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^.' y^ . ^ ,> 



-^ J ^ 6 -^ - . V 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



• * 



OF 



General Literature and Science. 



PUBLISHED BY THE PAULIST FATHERS. 



VOI,. I.XXVI. 
OCTOBER, 1902, TO MARCH, 1903. 



NEW YORK : 
THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, 

120 West 60th Street. 



1903- 




CONTENTS. 



Anarchist, The }^/okn A, Foote^ • • 59 

Anarchy and Government. — W, F, C. 

SckolasticuSy 44 

Apostolic Delegate, Our New, . . 569 

Apostolic Mission House, The Cere- 
monf of Turning ** the First Sod " 
(or the, {FtoHtispieee.) 

Bangkok : The Venice of the Far East* 

(Iilustraied.)^Framtis Mmry^ . 159 

Catholic Citizens and Public Educa- 
tion 4J0 

Catholic Novel, The Basis of SL,^Mase 

F.Bgan, J16 

Cecilian Art, The Evolution oi,— Marie 

Dotugan Walsk^ .... 794 

Church Building, A Practical Talk on. 
{lilustraUd.)— Charles D, Magin- 

niSf j68 

Columbian Reading Union, The, 140, 283, 

• 4aSi 5671 7<Oi 853 
Comment on Current Topics, i j6, 377, 433, 

^3» 7051 849 
Dante, Certain Characteristics of. (/^r- 

trait.)—A, C. Storer^ . , .173 

Easter Redemption of the Soul, The. — 

Etkel T, Drought 75a 

Educational Crisis in England, The. — 

Rev, Gilbert Simmons^ C.S.P,^ . 153 

Educational Struggle in England, The. 

— Rev. Gilbert Simmons^ C.S.P., . 724 

English Life, Pen Pictures of.— ff'iV/rViM 

Setoit, LLM.y 35 1 1 531. 636, 761 

Evictions in Brittanj, Recent. {Illus- 

traied.) — The Comtesse de Courscn^ 339 

Falconio, Mgr., {Frontispiece.) 

Farley, D.D., Most Rev. John Murphy, 

{Frontispiece.) 

George Eliot, The Ethics ot.—Georgi- 

nj Pell Curtis^ 317 

German Jerusalem, The. {^Illustrated.) 

—E. C. Vansittart, . . . .658 

German Life in Town and Country. — 

Rev. P. Farrelly^ .... 64 

Gotti, D.C., His Eminence Jerome, the 
new Cardinal Prefect of the Propa- 
ganda, {Frontispiece.) 

Great White Shepherd of Christendom, 

Ihe, 713 

Grottoes of Marmoutier, A Bicycle Trip 

to the. — Miss De La Fontaine^ . 614 

Guild of Artists, A Modern. — William 

Laurel Harris^ .... 436 

International Congress of Americanists, 
The. {Illustrated )-'Rev. Charles 
Warren Currier^ . . , .476 

Ireland, The Reawakening in. {Illus- 
trated.) — Seumas Mac M anus y . 17 

1274 



Joyce Josseijm, Smmtt,^ Mary Sarsfield 
Gilmore, . 90f M3. 3*51 517. 670, 823 

Knowing God, A Way ot.'^ Albert Rey- 
««*< 44J 

Leo XIII., His Enemies and Critics.— 
Rev. D. f.MmcMackin^ D,D.^ . 28^ 

Library Table, 131, 370, 417, 558, 699, 841 

Lost has been Found, The : A Christ- 
mas Story. ^Marion Ames Tog- 
g^rt, 45: 

Louvain : Zigiag Notes on a Belgian 
University Town. {Illustrated)— 
Rev. foseph Gordian DaUy^ . . 62( 

Magnien, S.S., D.D., Very Rev. Al- 
phonse. {Portrait.) — Rev. M. F. 
Poley^ ••••.. 81 

Modem Madonnas, Types of, {Front ts piece. 

Modern Poetry, The Religious Element 
in. — Frank Waters ^ . ix 

Montalembert and Lamennais. — Riv. 
William Sullivan, C.S. P. t . . 46 

Montluel, the Birthplace of Bishop 
Cr6tin. {Illustrated.) — Lorenzo /. 
Mar hoe ^ 72 

Mystery of Grace, A. {Illustrated.)— 
Richard Stearns, . . . .64 

Mystical Nuptials between our Lord and 
some ot the Saints, The. {Illus- 
trated.)^Georgina Pell Curt i% .' 

Nuremberg, When the Clock Stopped 
in. {Illustrated.) — Margaret F. 
Sullivan, !• 

One Midnight Mass. — fames M. Keat- 

''ng, 3 

Our Lady of Foreboding, {Front ispi^n 

Oxford >fovement, The Ebb and Flow 
of the. — Willoughby Braithwatte, . d 

Paintings of Hans Memling, The. ( //- 
lustrated.) — Mary F. Nixon-Roulef^ 7 

Passion ist Fathers, The Golden Jubik'ti^ 
of the. {Illustrated.) — A Pass/rn- 
ist Father, ... 

Photograph of a Ghost, The. — Grace I '. 
Christmas, ..... 

Pope Leo XIII., Two Portraits of, 

{Front i^pit'i . 

Propaganda, Cardinal Gotti and the. — 
James Murphy, .... 

Prosperity of Ireland, A Dawning;: Day 
for the, — fames Murphy, 

Religious Prop^ress in Porto Rico. ( Il- 
lustrated.) — Rev. Alonso-Alonuy, 

Ri{;hts of the People, Vindication of 
the, 

Saint Chantal : A Type of Chri-itian 
Womanhood. — Rev, foseph McSof - 

* ^ Vf W • kJ •<iy • • • • « 



5(> 



CONTEi^TS. 



m 



SU Frandp Xavier and Unitarianitnu.— 

/.^. " 

Saint of Lin<lisfanie, The. {lUms- 

traied.)^Mary /% Nixon^RouUt^ . 303 

Sister Marie da Sacr£ Ccrar^a Refonner 
in Education. — Suxtmmt d£ CastO' 

«»»•. 34 

Soul-Blindness.— ^/v. /csepk McSaruy^ 

Spiritual Hope for Ireland, A Vision of. 
-^Rev, Henry Edward O^Kteffe^ 

Studj of the Child, A.— .;. M. /., . . 579 

Symbolisms of God, Th/t.^Aibert Rey- 

naud^ 156 



Tasso and the Church of San Onof no. 
{lUMstraied.y—GeorgOim FtM C^r^ 

'". 5^ 

Theology, Progress in. — Rev, immtes /. 

Fox, D.D., 488 

Turning of the Firrt Sod, The.^JCVr. 

A. P. DoyU, C.S^,, . . . 3»7 

Unitarianism and Foreign Missions. — 

AS. a<S 

Unitarianism and Religion In Education. 

-A^M 396 

Utica Pioneers, Two Nouble. {///ms* 

/rated.) John C. Brogmn, 77 

Views and Reviews, ii«, 255, 404, 543, 

690,836 



POETRY. 



Bells of St. Mary, The.—^n^. /Miian B. 

Johnstone, 247 

Brother's Tritynte, K.—Rev. , 

^./-. 750 

Crucifix, The.— ^ii«« McCture Sholl, . 813 

Cynic, The,— Francis Waite^ . . 49 
Desolation of Babylon, The.— A^ /. 

Rett, 41 

YaXth.Sdward Doyle, . . . .158 
*' Gloria in Ezcelsis Deo."— ^a'. fohn 

W, Wolf, 461 

Indian, T\Mt,^Louist F, Murphy ^ . 669 
Joy of Mary, The. — Charles Hanson 

Toume, 516 

Lumen in Coelo, {Frontispiece,) 

Memories. — Francis /• Rohr, . • 254 



Moonlight Symphony, \,^ Louise F. 

Murphy, 781 

Mother's Foreboding, The.— 5iKMii L, 

Emery, 501 

My Mother Confessor.— Citfr/rj Wcod-^ 

ward Hutson, 16 

New Year's Prayer, A, . • . . 429 

Night.— /f/Vr/ Reynaud, . 635 

Resemblance, The. — Geortpe H, Tur- 

ner, ai6 

Resignation.— George H, Turner, . 193 

Sanctus Bell, The.— ^<nr. /utian E. 

Johnstone, 366 

Song of Praise, hi^Marie Rytman, . 315 

Sunshine and Rain. — Frauds /. Rohr, 350 

Voyageur's Story, The. — Thomas 

HTalsh, 328 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



Agap4 and the Eucharist in the Early 

Church, The, 406 

Altar Boy's Own Book, The, ... 263 
Althea, or the Children of Rosemont 

Plantation, 412 

Anglican Episcopate and the American 

Colonies, The, 409 

Arnold, Matthew, 553 

Babel and Bible, 255 

Between the Cubes; or. Some of the 
Lessons of the Mosaics in the Ancient 

Christian Churches in Rome, . . 696 

Boer Fight for Freedom. The, . 557 
Boy, The, How to Help Him to Sue* 

ceed, ....*.. 696 

Brother Hilarius, The Gathering of, . 836 
Canterbury to Rome, From, . . .129 

Catholic History of Our Country, A, . 125 
Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Unpub- 
lished Letters of, and of his father, 

Charles Carroll of Doughoregan, . 262 

Christian Apologetic, A, . . . 414 

Coast of Freedom, The. . . 134 

Comfort for the Faint* Hearted, . . 695 

Convents of Great Britain, The, . . 263 
Correspondance de Mgr. Gay : Lett res 
de Direction Spirituelle, . .412 



Day of an Invalid, The, .... 414 
De Deo Uno et Trino Disputationes 

Theologies, 840 

Discourses, Doctrinal and Moral, . 263 

Dogtown, 6q6 

Dolling, Father, 694 

Early Church, if onuments of the, . 126 
Education in the Philippine Islands, 

Statistics concerning, .... 124 

Education, Thoughts on, . . . 55a 

F.inleitung in das Neue Testament, . 404 

Elder Faiths of Ireland, Traces of the, 837 
Elementary Geography ; Complete 

Geography, 264 

Eliot, George, 127 

Essays, Historical and Literary, . . 555 
Etudes d'Hisioire et de Th^ologie Posi* 

tive, 406 

Experimental Psychology to Philoso- 
phy, The Relation of, . . . . 258 
Faith of Old England, The, . . .^65 
Four Feathers, The, , . . .841 
Friars and Filipinos, . . . .118 
Hearth to Cloister, From, . . .126 
Histoire des Croyances, Superstitions, 
Mtpurs, Usages, et Coutumes, selon le 
plan du Decalogue, • • , 267 



IV 



Contents. 



H0I7 Rosary in Presence of Jesus in the 

Blessed Sacrament, The, . - 5 '4 

Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, The, . . a6o 

How to Sin^, 697 

Instructions and Prayers for Catholic 

Youth, ..:.... 265 
Instructions on Preaching, Catechizing:, 
and Clerical Life, by Saints and Fath- 
ers of the Church, .... a66 
International Encyclopaedia, The, • 4x5 
James VI. and the Gowrie Mystery, • 6q8 
Jesus the Jew, and Other Addresses, . 221 
Jezebel : A Romance in the Days when 
Ahab was King of Israel, . . .127 

Julien I'Apostat, 415 

La Magie Moderne, .... 258 
La Questione Religiosa nei Popoli Latini, 838 
Laughter, An Essay on, .... 8j9 
Lee at Appomattox, and other Papers, 410 
Le Livre de la Pri^re Antique, . 690 

Le Mouvement Thtologique en France 
depuis ses origines jusqu'A nos jours . 
(IXe. au XXe. Sidcle), . . • 259 
Le ProbUme des Causes Finales, . • 410 
L*£vang6lisation des Hommes en 
France et Quelques R^formes Nices- 

saires, • . 41Z 

Lives of the Popes in the Early Middle 

Ages, The, . ' 413 

Manor Farm, The, ..... 549 

Marquette, Father, ... . . 357 

Mary*s Children, More Home Truths 
for, . . . . . . .263 

M6moires des Eveques de France sur la 
Conduite A tenir A regard des R6- 

formte, 840 

McRride Literatui:e and Art Readers, . 551 
Mystery of William Shakespeare, The, 543 

Oldfield . .842 

Our Lady and the Eucharist, . . . 137 
CBuvre du Saint Esprit ou La Sanctifi- 

cation des Ames 555 

Poems, Charades, Inscriptions of Pope 
Leo XIII., including the revised Com- 

f positions of his early life in chrono- 
ogical order, • . • • • 261 
Pharaoh and the Priest, The, • . 548 



Philozenus, Bishop of Mabbogh (485^ 
. S'9)f Three Letters of , . ^ . . 40R 
Religion, Agnosticism, and Education, 268 
Religious Life, The Harmony of the, . 697 
Repertoire Bibliographique des Auteurs 
et des Ouvrages Contemporains de 
Langue Fran^aise ou Latine, . lao 

Representative German Catholic NoveNj 

ists, A Round Table of, . . . 550 
Rome, ..••».. 547 
Sacrisun's Manual, The, • i^S 
St. Anthony of Padua, The Little Man- 
ual of, . 367 

St. Dominic and the Rosary, . . 264 

Sally Cavanagh ; or. The Untenanted 

Graves, 128 

Sancti Francisci Legends Veteris Frag- 

menta QuaKlam, 133 

Science of the Saints, First Lessons in, 555 
Science of the Saints, The, . . •257 
Sermons for all the Sundays of the Eccle- 
siastical Year, and the Principal Fes- 
tivals, 118 

Sermons from the Latins, • . . 545 
Shadows of an Ideal, The, . • .547 

Sons of Francis, 693 

Summula Philosophis Scholastioe in 
usum Seminarii Beatae Maris de Mon- 
te Melleario Concinnata, . . . 694 

Sunday, 842 

Synopsis Theologiae M oralis : De Poent- 

tentia, Matrimonio, Ordine, . . 693 
Ten Common Trees, . • • -135 
Texts for Children, .... 554 
Timothy ; or, Letters to a Young Theo- 
logian, 363 

Unto the End, . 4 . . • . 365 
Wesen und Principien der Bibelkritik 

auf Katholischer Grundlage, . .119 

With Napoleon at St. Helena, . . 550 

Wyndham Girb, The, ; . . . 550 

Young Christian Teacher Encouraged, 

The, • •. . . . . • 838 

Yourself, 413 

Youth and a tried Antidote, The Dan- 
ger of, .#••••• 126 




His Eminence: Jei 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



Vol. LXXVI. OCTOBER, 1902. No. 451. 




CARDINAL GOTTI AND THE PROPAGANDA. 

BY JAMES MURPHY. 

HE nomination of Cardinal Gotti to the head of 
the Sacred Congregation De Propaganda Fide is 
an incident in the administration of Leo XIII. 
that is likely to prove historically interesting. 
A modest Carmelite monk thus enters on the 
office that is practically second in importance to that of the 
Supreme Pontificate itself; becomes, in the phraseology of the 
Roman public, the " Red Pope " ; in the vulgar parlance in 
Rome the Holy Father is the " White Pope," and the superior- 
general of the Jesuit order the "Black Pope." This in itself is 
a noteworthy departure. 

The office is one that in recent times was regarded practi- 
cally as the appanage of one or other of the secular cardi- 
nals of the Roman Curia. For the filling of the vacancy made 
by the death of Cardinal Ledochowski Cardinals Satolli, 
Vincenzo Vannutelli, and RampoUa were mentioned. It seemed 
almost a certainty that one of the three would be chosen. 
Instead the Pope appointed a regular, who was not even a 
member of the Congregation of the Propaganda. 

Cardinal Gotti's appointment is being variously interpreted. 
Some see in it a tribute and an assurance of regard by the 
Pope to the religious orders ; others explain it by a desire of 
Leo Xni. to- fill^ an exceedingly important office with a man 
who has no affiliations, who cannot be accused of having 

The Missionary Socibty op St. Paul thb Apostle in the State 

OP New York, 190a. 

VOL. LXXVI. — I 



2 Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. [Oct., 

meddled in politics, who cannot be suspected of having friends 
to favor or enemies to punish. But in reality the explanation 
ought probably to bs sought in the man himself, and in the 
fact that Leo Xdl. has always shown a determination to select, 
and an accurate judgment in selecting, the right man for the 
right place. 

Cardinal Gotti is in his sixty-ninth year, as he was bom at 
Genoa on March 29, 18J4. His origin was of the most modest 
kind, his father being a humble dock laborer. In his boyhood 
the future cardinal joined the order of Discalced Carmelites. 
He developed a remarkable talent for physical science, and 
shortly after his ordination to the priesthood was made first 
professor of mathematics and natural philosophy in the College 
of St. Ann in Genoa. 

Even to this hour Cardinal Gotti shows the keenest interest 
in the progress of the world's thought on physics, and in all 
new mechanical inventions and devices, and his apartments at 
the Trajan Forum were almost congested with books and peri- 
odicals on these subjects, which kept pouring in from various 
quarters of the globe. It is believed that under Cardinal Gotti's 
influence the study of mechanical science will assume a much 
more important position than heretofore in the curriculum of the 
Propaganda College. 

Young Gotti rapidly rose in the ranks of his order until he 
obtained the position of provincial, which gave him the op- 
portunity of travelling. He became known at the Vatican for 
the keenness of his judgment, revealed as consultor of the 
Sacred Roman Congregations. His appointment as Delegate 
Apostolic for various special missions to South American repub- 
lics followed, and his success while administering this function 
in Brazil gave him prominent rank among the diplomats of the 
church. 

Pope Leo XIII. had long shown a special predilection for 
him, and in the Consistory of November 29, 1895, he created 
him cardinal, with Santa Maria della Scala as his titular church. 
Later he was appointed Prefect of the Congregation of Bishops 
and Regulars, and member of the Congregations of the Holy- 
Office, the Index, Rites, Indulgences, and Extraordinary Kc- 
clesiastical Affairs. He is also protector of the Archconfraternity 
of St. Anthony of Padua, of the Venerable Company of the 
Stigmata of St. Francis in Florence and in Filottrano. 



I902.] Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. 3 

Personally, Cardinal Gotti is of medium stature, has a small, 
oval face, a fresh complexion, and a bright, cheerful aspect that 
makes him look younger by three or four decades than he 
really is. 

The importance of the Sacred Congregation of the Propa- 
ganda in the admitiistration of the church, and particularly its 
direct hierarchical supremacy over the Church in America, will 
render a brief mention of its origin, character, and methods of 
operation not inopportune here. Pope Evaristus, the fifth suc- 
cessor of St. Peter, created the first " titles," or parishes, of 
Rome, the occupants of which were afterwards known as 
Cardinals. In the beginning of the third century twenty -five 
of these titles existed. Then they were increased to fifty, later 
to seventy, and at the present time there are seventy-four titles, 
although the number of cardinals in the Sacred College is 
limited to seventy. 

The functions of the members of this highest ecclesiastical 
dignity after the Papacy are vastly different to-day from what 
they were in the olden times when the cardinals were adminis- 
trators of parishes. The greater part of the administration of 
the church is under the charge of the cardinals who live at 
Rome — the cardinals in curia, as they are called — who are 
members of the Sacred Roman Congregations, which correspond 
in a certain measure to the political ministries in modern states. 

These congregations are established in Rome by the Sov- 
ereign Pontiff, and their objects are to inquire into, discuss, and 
decide the important affairs of the whole church and of the 
temporal dominions of the Holy See. The cardinals are as- 
sisted by consultors, by distinguished ecclesiastics both secular 
and regular, and by other officials appointed by the Pope. The 
head, or prefect, of a sacred congregation is a cardinal, except 
in the case of the four congregations of the Holy Office or In- 
quisition, the Consistory, the Apostolic Visit, and the Pontifical 
Commission for the Reunion of the Dissident Churches, of which 
the Pope himself is the Prefect. A cardinal is the secretary of 
the Holy Office. The acts, decrees, rescripts, and letters issued 
in the name of a congregation are subscribed generally by the 
prefect, and always by the secretary. These two officials chiefly 
regulate the affairs of the congregation, and submit to the 
Pope at periodical audiences the matters which require his ap- 
proval. 



4* Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. [Oct, 

HISTORY OF THE PROPAGANDA. 

Among the Sacred Roman Congregations the Propaganda 
Fide to-day is almost in a class by itself from the magnitude 
of the work entrusted to it, and from the importance of the 
field over which its administration extends. The earliest 
traces of the foundation of this congregation are brought back 
to Pope Gregory XIII., who during his reign, which extended 
from 1572 to 1585, appointed three cardinals — Medici, Caraffa, 
and Santorio — to superintend the propagation of the faith among 
the Slavs,* the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Ethiopians, etc., and 
to further this work he had several thousand books printed at 
his own expense in the various languages. 

Clement VIII., who was an Aldobrandini and came to the 
throne in 1592, decreed that the cardinals charged with the 
propagation of the faith should meet regularly in congregation 
every week. He himself presided over the first of these con- 
gregations, which was held on August 11, 1599. It was Clement 
VIII. who founded the Scotch College in Rome, and under 
whose pontificate occurred the conversion of the Ruthenian na- 
tion to the Catholic faith. 

The real founder of the Congregation De Propaganda Fide 
must, however, be recognized in the person of Gregory XV., 
who, on June 22, 1622, in the first year after his elevation to 
the Pontificate, issued the famous Bull Inscrutabili, by which 
the sacred congregation was formally instituted, and by which 
was reserved to it ** the business of the spreading of the faith 
and the sending of harvesters of souls to foreign parts.*' By 
a decree issued on the same day the P9pe assigned to the new 
congregation for all time the sum of 500 gold crowns, which 
each cardinal at the time of his promotion should pay for the 
cardinalatial ring. The sum was later reduced by Pius VII. to 
600 silver crowns. Many privileges and subsidies were accorded 
to the congregation by Gregory XV. and his successors. Inno- 
cent XII. donated. 150,000^ gold crowns, and Clement XII. gave 
70,000, and many conspicuous legacies have since been made 
by cardinals and by laymen. The first cardinal prefect of the 
Propaganda was Antonio Sauli. Other notable cardinal pre- 
fects have been Antonio Barberini, Stefano Borgia, Lorenzo 
Litta, and Alessandra Barnabo. 

The attributions of the Propaganda consist in the spiritual 



1902.] Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. s 

and temporal administration of the missions, the settlement of 
their points of contention^ the sending of missionaries into coun- 
tries that are to be evangelized, the nomination of bishops and 
of vicars-apostolic. The Propaganda is the ordinary tribunal for 
controversies and conflicts that arise among missionaries of 
various orders, or among superiors of missions and the local 
native clergy. It also solves questions of doubt submitted 
to it. 

The personnel of the congregation consists at this hour of 
twenty-five cardinals, one of whom is Prefect, Cardinal Gotti, 
and another of whom is Prefetto dell* Econotnia, or supervisor of 
the finance department. Cardinal Antonio Agliardi. Cardinal 
Gibbons is one of the members of the Congregation. The 
secretary is usually a titular bishop, at present Monsignor 
Luigi Veceia. He is aided sometimes by a substitute — the 
post is at present vacant — and by an Apostolic Protonotary, 
Monsignor Luigi Pericoli. It further comprises thirty-eight 
consultors, of whom fifteen are monks, four minutanti or high 
bureaucratic officials, and an archivist. The only American at 
present in the list of the consultors is the Most Rev. John 
Joseph Keane, Archbishop of Dubuque. 

For the temporal administration of the Propaganda there 
exist the following positions : a chief of administration, a comp- 
troller, a minutante, a cashier, an architect, a director of the 
Polyglot Press, a jurisconsult, and an attorney, all of whom are 
laymen. The general congregation is held once a month, on 
Mondays. It is held under the presidency of the Pope only 
on the occasion of the transaction of unusually important busi- 
ness. Every week a " congress " convenes, composed of the 
Cardinal Prefect, the Secretary, and the attaches. 

The work of the congregation is now supplemented by that 
of the Sacred Congregation of the Propaganda for Affairs of 
Oriental Rite. This subsidiary congregation owes its origin to 
Urban VIII., who in the early part of the seventeenth century 
formed it for the correction of books of Oriental rite. It was 
formally organized by Benedict XIV. one hundred and fifty 
years ago. In 1862 Pius IX. reconstructed it and extended its 
operations to all Oriental business. It is now composed of 
fourteen cardinals, with Cardinals Gotti and Agliardi at the 
head. Its secretary is Monsignor Antonio Savelli-Spinola. 
It has nineteen consultors, four minutanti, and four interpreters. 



6 Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. [Oct., 

all ecclesiastics. Several minor commissions for matters of de- 
tail exist within the Congregation of the Propaganda. 

METHODS OF ADMINISTRATION. 

As for the administrative methods of the Propaganda, it is 
to be noted that the church divides into three classes the ter- 
ritories over which it exercises its actibn: first, canonical coun- 
tries, those, namely, which are submitted completely to the 
rules of canon law; secondly, concordate countries, in which 
the rules have been modified by agreements between the Papacy 
and the temporal powers ; thirdly, mission countries, where 
Catholicism is either in process of establishment, as in pagan 
nations, or in the New World, or in process of re- establishment, 
as in nations which, like England, once were Catholic but had 
become heretical or schismatic. 

The Holy See deems it inopportune to impose definite 
canonical legislation in these mission countries. It proceeds . 
with the fostering care that the various situations demand. 
The missions depend directly on the Pope and are all placed 
under the charge of the Propaganda, which holds as an endur- 
ing tradition the custom of allowing them all the liberty com- 
patible with the peace, unity, and authority of the church. 
The mission countries are: In Europe, Great Britain and Ire- 
land, Norway and Sweden, Holland, Denmark, Russia, Northern 
Germany, Saxony, Anhalt, Schleswig-Holstein, part of the 
Grisons, the Balkan Peninsula, and Greece. In Asia, all except 
the Portuguese colonies. In Africa, all except Algeria, the 
Canaries, Ceuta, and Reunion, the bishop of which is a suf- 
fragan of the Archbishop of Bordeaux. In America, the United 
States, Guiana, Patagonia, the West Indies and the Antilles, 
with the exception of Cuba, Hayti, Guadeloupe, and Marti- 
nique. The bishops of these last two islands are also suffragans 
of the Archbishop of Bordeaux in France. In Oceania, all ex- 
cept the Philippines. It thus happens, somewhat anomalously, 
that the Philippines are in a higher administrative class than 
the United States. 

The official representatives of the Holy See in the mission 
countries are the apostolic delegates, the apostolic vicars, and 
the apostolic prefects. 

The apostolic delegation constitutes a more or less extended 
jurisdiction accorded by the Pope to a secular or reg^ular 



I902.] Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda, 7 

prelate over a certain number of dioceses, of apostoUc vicariates, 
or of prefectures, without distinction of rites. 

The apostolic vicariates are territories, or parts of territory, 
the spiritual administration of which is turned over by the 
Holy See to individual prelates. Ordinarily the vicars- apostolic 
are bishops and have a titular see. They are chosen by the 
Propaganda, which lays down specifically the limitations of their 
jurisdiction. It sometimes happens that vicariates are raised to 
the rank of bishoprics, without, however, ceasing to be part of 
the mission countries. This was the case in England when on 
September 29, 1850, Pope Pius IX. re-established the nation's 
hierarchy. 

Apostolic prefects are chiefs of missions who are not bishops. 
They are simple missionaries, seculars or monks, invested by 
the Propaganda with certain special powers. Apart from the 
faculty of conferring the major orders, priesthood, diaconate, 
and sub- diaconate, they often exercise all the powers of a 
bishop. They may give the tonsure and confer minor orders, 
move as they will their subordinate clergy, broaden or restrict 
the rights and privileges entrusted to the missionaries, inspect 
churches, address pastorals to the faithful, and administer the 
sacrament of confirmation. 

The United States and Canada are among the apostolic 
delegations; North Carolina, Arizona, and Indian Territory, 
in the United States, are apostolic vicariates. Alaska is a pre- 
fecture apostolic, the prefect apostolic being a Jesuit father. 

THE URBAN COLLEGE OF THE PROPAGANDA. 

The error is sometimes made of confusing the Sacred Roman 
Congregation De Propaganda Fide with one of the institutions 
which depend on that congregation, the word Propaganda being 
variously taken to mean the congregation, and the Urban Col- 
lege De Propaganda Fide, also called the Apostolic Seminary 
of all the nations. 

This renowned and exceedingly interesting establishment was 
instituted in 1627, by Pope Urban VIII., whence the name 
Urban College, in the palace and with the foundation donated 
by a Spanish prelate, Monseigneur John Baptist Vives. His 
plan for the college was "that there should be educated and 
instructed in the necessary sciences, in good discipline, and in 
the dogmas of Catholic truth the youths of the various foreign 



8 Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. [Oct., 

nations, in order that on returning to their own country, or sent 
elsewhere by the Congregation of the Propaganda, they should 
confirm Catholics in the faith and should promote or preach 
the doctrine of Jesus Christ where the Christian name was un- 
known ; and that. Anally, they should illuminate schismatics and 
heretics on the darkness of their errors." 

The seat of the college was and is the great palace, restored 
by Bernini, which on one side looks out on the Piazza di 
Spagna, and on the other faces Via della Mercede. Here are 
located the various offices of the congregation, the residence of 
the cardinal prefect, the archives, the library, and the famous 
printing plant. Alexander VII., who was Pope from 1655 to 
1667, not only increased the college but also built within its 
quadrangle the now famous Church of the Epiphany. 

At its origin the college was placed under a rector, and the 
administration was confided to three canons, one from each of 
the archbasilicas of St. Peter, St. John Lateran, and St. Mary 
Major. But Urban VIII. himself before his death nullified this 
arrangement, and formally incorporated the College of the 
Congregation of the Propaganda. 

When the French invaded Rome Napoleon Bonaparte, by a 
decree of 1809, suppressed the Urban College, as well as the 
celebrated printing establishment. He caused its type, its 
presses, and its almost priceless matrices for the alphabets of 
the Oriental tongues to be smashed to pieces. In 181 7 the 
college was reopened. The polyglot press has been re- 
established, and under the fostering care of Leo XIII. it has 
become the most marvellously varied printing-house in the 
world. 

One of the great celebrations of the year in Rome is the 
celebration of the feast of the Epiphany at the Propaganda 
College. The visit of the three Wise Men from the East is 
taken as the symbol of the first conversion of the Gentiles 
and the spread of the Gospel, and is fittingly the commemorative 
feast of the great missionary college. In the grand hall of the 
college on that day a public entertainment is held in which 
many of the students, who in all number about a hundred, take 
part. 

Among the most interesting features on the programme is 
the reading by the students of compositions in the native 
language of each. This forms a polyglot entertainment that 



I902.] Cardinal Gotti and the Propaganda. 9 

could hardly be duplicated in any part of the world. All the 
tongues of Europe are heard, as well as the Syriac, Chaldaic, 
Arabic, Turkish, Armenian, Persian, Copt, Ethiopian, Chinese, 
and even the unnamed tongues of cannibal tribes in the South- 
ern seas, for the students of the Propaganda are drawn from 
all the colors and varieties of the human species. 

On the first floor of the palace is the famous library, rich 
in polyglot Bibles, in catechisms in all languages, in dictionaries 
and grammars, and also in the book collections made by sev- 
eral Sovereign Pontiffs. Opposite the library is the Borgian 
Museum, named after Stefano Borgia, who was once cardinal 
prefect of the congregation. It has a priceless collection of 
manuscripts in Arabic, Syriac, Chaldaic, Hebrew, Indian — many 
of them on palm-leaves — Greek, Latin, Italian, etc. Some veri- 
table treasures are here in book-form and in parchment. Wor- 
thy of mention is the celebrated Mexican Code, of great an- 
tiquity, painted in hieroglyphics on deer-skin. Again, there is 
a Latin folio volume, a masterpiece of penmanship, which wa& 
made to serve as the Christmas- night missal of Pope Alexander 
VI. It contains an admirable portrait of that Pontiff. The 
famous map on which the same Pope, who had been chosen as 
arbitrator by Spain and Portugal, drew the historical line of de- 
marcation to divide their dominions in the New World, is also 
here to be found. There is also a wonderful collection of 
stained and painted glass discovered in the catacombs, and on 
the whole the Propaganda palace may be ranked as one of the 
conspicuous art and antiquity treasure-houses of the world. 

In Rome the new Propaganda Prefect, Cardinal Gotti, is re- 
garded as essentially a bureaucrat. Method, discipline, and or- 
der are points on which, at the offices of the Sacred Congrega- 
tion of Bishops and Regulars, he showed himself to be exacting 
in the extreme. His long life as a monk naturally gave him 
this turn of mind. 

No one among his entourage would dream of suspecting him 
of composing a Latin verse, or of foregathering with painters, 
sculptors, and musicians, characteristics which in Leo XIII., 
an entirely different man, are an element of additional charm. 
It is not that Cardinal Gotti is in any way narrow. His 
tastes, for all the world knows, may be artistic to an unusual 
point and his soul may long for association with the dainty 
and aesthetic side of life, but his long and severe schooling 



lO CARDINAL GOTTI AND THE PROPAGANDA. [Oct., 

has made him a man who devotes himself exclusively and 
scrupulously to the work which he conceives to be in his line 
of duty. It is said of bJm that no other cardinal in Rome 
can give such immense concentration to the handling of mat- 
ters of detail, that he has the infinite capacity for taking 
pains which is one of the marks of genius. This fact proba- 
bly explains in a great measure his remarkable success as a 
diplomat. 

His diplomacy has nothing of the crafty or pettifogging 
about it. It was the simplicity and lucidity of his work while 
at the Apostolic Legation in Brazil that won for him his first 
public triumphs. As a member of the Congregation of Extra- 
ordinary Ecclesiastical AtTairs his reports and judgments on all 
matters submitted to him were couched in a style of logic that 
had a mathematical precision about it, and which was limpid 
and convincing. Should it be within the decrees of Providence 
that Cardinal Gotti be called to the Chair of Peter there is little 
Yioubt that bis term of office would be marked by immense sys- 
tematic labor by all the departments of the church administra- 
tion, and by changes and innovations in these departments, from 
the bureaucrat's point of view. It would also be quite possible, 
on the same hypothesis, that Girolamo Maria Gotti might not 
be ranked by the public at large or remembered by posterity as 
among the great popes. But that the impress which the work 
and individuality of Cardinal Gotti, whether called to the Papacy 
or not, will leave on the church will be wholly good and last- 
ingly beneficial, those who know from within will even from this 
hour attest. 



I902.] ST. Francis Xavier and Unitarianism: ii 




ST FRANCIS XAVIER AND UNITARIANISM. 

BY J. S. 

lUR fellow- Christians of the Unitarian denomination 
are often in our minds as people who if con- 
verted would become excellent Catholics, and we 
never omit to pray for them. Catholics indeed 
are bound to wish for all men, and bound to 
strive by word and example to draw all men into the light, 
because our Saviour came, lived, and died for all of human 
kind ; yet a preference like ours is permitted, and we confess 
that we covet Unitarians for converts more than we do any 
other outsiders. We repeat that we think they would be signally 
valuable, as we know they would be blissfully happy, if mem- 
bers of the true church. Their defection from Congregational 
Orthodoxy, some seventy-five years ago, was a healthy move- 
ment towards intellectual and moral freedom, and although 
inveterate inherited prejudice has forbidden them to consider 
seriously the claim upon them, as upon all Christians, of the 
Catholic Church, yet the record they have since made may 
justly be termed progress — towards nothing, it is true, at which 
point they have happily arrived — but progress, nevertheless. 
Their emancipation from spiritual thraldom of any nature is 
complete, and no people were ever better circumstanced to 
exchange nothing for everything — the desert for Paradise — if 
they would but make the effort, bravely and in humble and 
sincere fashion. Their unrest and longing are hopeful signs, 
and it is not in human nature to be for ever spiritually satisfied 
with nothing; and, again, their protest against sham and pre- 
tence is an ingrained and an American trait, so that, if they 
may obtain a glimpse of the truth they will not rest satisfied 
with less than the whole of it; no fractional Christianity will 
content them. Let us Catholics, then, pray fervently for them, 
and, as far as may be in our power, urge and help them forward. 
We have been moved to these reflections by a sudden in- 
terest manifested in St. Francis Xavier, Apostle of India and 
Japan, by one who may be termed the very Nestor of the 
Unitarian Church, a sage whose words command attention 
throughout his own denomination and indeed far beyond it * 



12 St. Francis Xavier and Unitarianism, [Oct, 

we mean, the Reverend Dr. Edward Everett Hale, of Boston, 
and we augur much from his interest in Xavier, although we 
cannot feel sure that it has yet taken deep root ; but we trust 
the learned doctor may make a real study of the saint's life 
and works, that thus -the splendor and edification of Xavier's 
brilliant and glorious career may become better known to him- 
self and others. 

Dr. Hale's theme (in his Good News and the Christian 
Register, both of Boston) has been missions in general, and that 
of Xavier in particular. Gregarious rather than solitary missions 
commend themselves to his judgment, and he reproaches Xavier 
for having gone abroad alone instead of amid a crowd, and Dr. 
Hale demands to be told where now are Xavier's numerous 
converts or their descendants. This inquiry of his we will 
answer, though necessarily in a brief and sketchy manner, and we 
repeat our hope for a thorough and exhaustive study of Xavier 
by the Unitarians. 

St. Francis Xavier, then, born in 1506, youngest child of a 
noble Spanish family, was blessed with a pious mother, who 
bred in him a horror of sin. His brothers having become 
warriors, he was destined for the law, and pursued his studies 
awhile at Paris. High-spirited and ambitious, he had hoped to 
shine in the world, but, coming under the influence of Ignatius 
Loyola, he yielded to those supernatural graces which, indeed, 
are in some measure within the reach of all Catholics, but 
which not all of us are so ready to heed as was Francis. 
Ignatius befriended him, and in ways so generous and so deli- 
cate that Francis recognized the loftiness of his soul, became 
more and more drawn to him, and came in time to love him 
intensely, and this personal devotion to Ignatius lasted through 
Francis* whole life. The former lost no fit occasion to admonish 
his friend to save his soul rather than seek to gain the world 
(which counsel, we fear, must seem mighty foolish to President 
Eliot, of Harvard, who recently urged the 113 girl-graduates of 
Radcliffe not to try to save their souls), and Francis felt the 
rankling of these shafts of wisdom until he yielded to grace and 
gave himself wholly to the service of Jesus Christ. 

His mission to India and Japan lasted fourteen years, and 
he died, as he had lived, heroically, of exhaustion and fever, 
in his forty-seventh year, while longing and striving to spread 
the Gospel in China. His conversions had been numerous, often 
at the price of cruel martyrdom for his converts; but, though 



I902.] 5r. Francis Xavier and Unitarianism. 13 

himself fearless and quick to seek and face dangers, his own 
life was not thus sacrificed. 

In Japan he was at first received civilly by that brave and 
intelligent people, and was welcomed to gain as many converts 
as he could ; but, later, the native clergy and some of the 
courtiers denounced him and his religion to the government, 
and Christianity was thenceforward strictly tabooed. From 
161 7 to 1632 especially an anti- Christian persecution raged in 
Japan. In 16(2 the faithful had numbered nearly two millions 
of souls, with churches and chapels, schools and universities, 
and the noble qualities of the Japanese were favorable to the 
spread of the true religion; but now churches, crosses, all 
monuments of Christianity, were destroyed and many hundreds 
of the faithful were put to death, and these martyrs comprised 
not only priests and members of religious orders, but, as well, 
lay people of both sexes and of all conditions and ages. Father 
Braeckaert, S.J., says: "The Emperor Daifu-Sama's infernal 
plans were so ably combined, the torments so horribly pro- 
longed, the searches so thorough, that, finally, after thirty years 
of slaughter, not a victim was left, not a Christian was to be 
found, not a trace of Christianity remained." Indeed, the 
authentic records of the martyrdom of Catholic priests and 
people, native and foreign, in Japan must be characterized as at 
once hideous and sublime. 

Yet, although no public profession of Christianity was possi- 
ble, nor even, as far as it could be prevented, any private 
practice. Catholic traditions, being long-lived, survived through 
succeeding ages; and when the late gallant Commodore Perry, 
about the middle of the last century, in true American style — 
with bluff politeness and decent respect for the Japanese people * 
and government — " opened " Japan to the world, there were 
found to be many Catholics in scattered localities who, although 
deprived of priests and Mass and sacraments, had cherished and 
preserved much sacred truth, baptizing their children and teach- 
ing them the catechism of the true faith. Rev. Dr. Hale will 
be real glad to know that these faithful souls have been re- 
warded for their constancy by the re-establishment of Catholic 
missions and the reappearance among them of the glorious 
Jesuits and other orders, and that the cross and our holy reli- 
gion which it typifies flourish again in that splendid land. 

En passant, and merely as a notable historical fact, we add, 
certain nominal Christians indeed were allowed to live on and 



14 St. Francis Xavier and Unitarianism. [Oct., 

trade in Japan during the persecutions, viz., such of the Dutch 
and English as would forswear themselves or would hold their 
Christianity in a Pickwickian sense ; the test being the trampling 
on a cross. When real Christians were invited or required to 
commit this symbolic act they invariably refused. They con- 
sented readily to set their feet upon two straws if placed side 
by side; but when the same straws were placed crosswise it 
became quite another matter, and martyrdom was preferred and 
endured. 

Rev. Dr. Hale seems almost to scorn individual missionary 
efforts, and yet of these there have been successful instances. 
St. Patrick, by God's grace, and the single-heartedness of the 
race, converted the whole Irish people to Christianity, and that 
without the shedding of a drop of blood, and Dr. Hale must 
allow the Irish to have been pretty effectually converted, for 
they have *' stayed put " until our own day. 

We do not recall any Unitarian foreign mission that was 
not undertaken single-handed. There was Rev. Mr. Dall's effort 
to convert India to Unitarianism, and, later, Rev. Mr. McCau- 
ley's similar attempt on behalf of the Japanese people (and he 
had successors), and all these enterprises were maintained or 
aided by the A. U. A. Perhaps Rev. Dr. Hale was not con- 
sulted in either case. Our Lord's own Apostles, the first of all 
foreign missionaries, went forth singly or in pairs. However, 
the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and the world knows 
that all pagan peoples who have ever been Christianized, from 
the Apostles' time down to our own, have been converted by 
missionaries of the Catholic Church ; and this fact should have 
weight with our Unitarian friends. 

We have good hope that the alert Japanese and the inert 
Chinese alike may have a fair chance at being Christianized 
during this wonderful twentieth century of which so much is 
predicted, and our charity reaches also to the subtle Brahmins 
and the gentle Hindus. These various non-Christian races and 
peoples, often well disposed and (although not Anglo-Saxon) 
intelligent, say now in response to appeals for their conversion 
by Protestant missionaries, telling them half-truths or difTering 
and contradictory truths, "Go home and agree among your- 
selves; then come again, and we will listen to you.*' But 
Protestant propagandism, as far as it goes, is positive, and thus 
far respectable. What shall the heathen say in response to 
Unitarian appeals : the denial of all Christian truths that ever 



I902.] 57: Francis Xavier and Unitarianism. 15 

have been believed among men; a warning that every such 
truth is uncertain, questionable, not to be accepted until the 
last critic shall have said his say? Why, the heathen (who, 
fortunately, are generally polite to Christians) must reply : 
"Will you ask us to give up. our all for your nothing ? are you 
fooling? or do you take us for fools? Pray go away/' 

Why will not all denominations of Protestants reflect that as 
far as they are positive they are Catholic; only Protestant in 
denials ; therefore that . each sect would gain whatever it lacks, 
and lose nothing, by conversion ?. Then we Americans could 
go for the heathen hopefully and all the world would begin to 
be Christian. 

If God — the God of souls, as of nature and the constella- 
tions, who made us in his own image and likeness, and without 
whom our souls can never be satisfied, — if he have ever spoken 
to man, then the Catholic Church must be his representative. 
While, if he have not thus spoken to man, then Christendom 
has arisen and has lived under a delusion, the Jews are right in 
still awaiting their Messias, and Unitarians properly reject 
Rome's claim to their spiritual allegiance." But Unitarian Chris- 
tians will not embrace the latter alternative — at least, not all of 
them will do so — and these wiser ones we will remind that in 
missions only the Catholic Church produces fruit — non-Catholic 
missionary efforts being barren; that if Unitarians be converted 
they can. aid greatly in the conversion of others, while if, and 
60 long as, they remain unconverted, their utmost of success 
wtU be only in the impeding of others. 

If we have misconstrued Dr. Hale's study of Xavier's life 
and works (and this may be so) our appeal to Unitarians may 
seem to them to be an uncalled-for intrusion, and this we 
should regret, for no one likes to be de trop ; but, in fairness, 
is not our belief in their wish for the spread of Christianity a 
just inference from the profession and the lives of at least a 
good many Unitarians ? And, again, we protest, one cannot 
help longing for brotherhood of faith with people so excellent, 
so capable, and so intelligent too in all save the one thing essen- 
tial to be known and lived — supernatural faith, their lack ot which 
ts too pathetic to be forgotten or disregarded by true believers. 

We thank Rev. Dr. Hale for calling up the subject of mis- 
sions and conversions, and hope he may continue to apply his 
mind to them. 



1 6 My Mother Confessor. [Oct 




(Dy (Dowhbi^ ^onpbssoi^. 

|ES| always there was one 

To whom my feet would run, 
To whom I all would tell 
That e'er to me befell: 

The hurts that seemed so sore, 

The wrongs I brooded o'er, 

And — scared at them — the sins 

That loomed as large as Jins, 

Released from fished-up flasks. 

'Twas sweetest of her tasks, 

These heard, to soothe, deplore. 

With charge to sin no more. 

There never was a time 

My most enormous crime 

Could keep her pity back. 

Or paint me wholly black. 

The penances she laid 

Upon me never weighed 

So heavy as her sighs 

And sadness in her eyes. 

She had no special place 

To do to me this grace ; 

No time was set apart 

When I could reach her heart : 

What would she not contrive, 

My little soul to shrive ? 

When now I do what's wrong, 

For her how much I long ! 

No other would, I wiss. 

Absolve me with a kiss. 

Charles Woodv/ard Hutson. 



Irish Scholar, Port. Shanachy, nnd Pteiident of the Gaelic League. 

THE REAWAKENING IN IRELAND. 

BY SEUMAS MacMANUS. 

f^ IE spirit of unrest in Ireland has assumed a 

new phase, and an interesting one, and one 
that is fraught with big possibilities. 

Strange enough, this new phase has not sprung 
^ up, nor has it been fostered, in the political 

arena, in me western part of the land, political Ireland is, 
indeed, particularly restless. For there, though the judges on 
circuit find, and are unwillingly forced to declare, the country 
absolutely crimeless, still the bludgeon of coercion is laying 
about it both blindly and brutally. The right of free speech is 
denied; members of Parliament, addressing their constituents, 

VOL. LXXVI. — 2 



1 8 The Reawakening in Ireland. [Oct, 

have been forcibly dragged from the platform, dashed upon the 
ground, and kicked by an invading force of police, and their 
blood left distaining the stones of the public highway. And a 
touring coercion court is, week by week, sending men to jail, 
for two and three months, for having dared to insist upon the 
right of free meeting and free speech. And, as a sequence, 
public opinion, throughout the whole of Ireland, is once agdo 
shocked and revolted. 

This strange state of matters keeps the west in a ferment, 
and leaves the other three parts of the country dogged and 
sullen. If there was no other cause, this mood of the popular 
mind in Ireland would in itself be quite sufficient to cloud the 
rosy prospects for a royal visit, which English statesmen, look- 
ing through optimistic glasses, thought they saw. 

But politicians and the poor are always with us in Ireland; 
and likewise administrative tyranny ; and, consequently, the 
aggrieved and aggressive spirit. Kings may come and queens 
may go, but these things always remain. Independent of, and 
outside of politics, the new spirit has grown ; and even, with much 
truth I may add, in spite of politics it has sprung. This move- 
ment embraces alike people who are politicians, people who were 
politicians, and people who never were and never will be poli- 
ticians. Gradually and imperceptibly it has been growing for 
close upon ten years ; so imperceptibly, in fact, that it was 





Dr. Sigerson 




Irisli Bard, 
of Hie Gael 
denl of Ih 


author of  

anil Gall.' 

Ifiih N 


Bard, 



I902.] The Reawakening in Ireland. 



only the other day, as it were, we awakened to the fact that 
great new forces had come into existence in the midst of us, 
so imperceptibly that even yet an unthinking portion of the 
nation may well refuse to believe in its existence even though, 
against their inclination, it is driving them forward. It has 
been the natural outcome of the stranding, and great break- up, 
of the political ship after the collapse of Parnell. Until the 
days of that apparent catastrophe, while still the ship sailed 
smoothly, no man of the multitude took thought, — all believed 
that wiser heads, and surer hands, were at the helm. But when 
the unlooked-for break-up came, and the captain was lost, and 
each officer tempted the waters with a boat and crew of his 
own, there were a few thousands who, refusing to put trust in 
any officer, hurriedly bound together, each, a little raft for him- 



20 The reawakening in Irelasd, [Oct.» 

self, or even clung to a spar ; preferring to work his 9wn salva- 
tion, or sink in trustworthy company. Then these independent 
ones were put upon their mettle, and, willy-nilly, driven to do 
that which hitherto they had steadily neglected; that is, reflect 
and think for themselves. And during the stormy times that 
succeeded, drifting aimlessly as they were, they had both time 
and opportunity to follow this course. Now these who took to 
rafts and spars were, for the most part, young men ; men 
whose ideals had not yet faded, or whose sentiment had not 
departed from their. souls. And upon reflection they clearly saw 
that whilst people had for years been pursuing agrarian and 
political reform, they had been entirely unmindful of, if not 
quite blind to, the fact that, by the intentness of this material 
pursuit, we had been slowly starving out our national spirit; 
that our distinct nationality was passing, and the inherited Iri&h 
characteristics surely slipping away ; that we were, day by day, 
adopting the manners and modes of action and thought of the 
materialistic enemy whom we fought — swapping, for modern 
British shoddy, our own ancient spirituality. And though our 
politicians were yearly wresting further reforms from England, 
reforms which, though undeniably good and great from the 
worldly point of view, were yet — because the spiritual side of 
our nature was being let slip unheeded — but milestones on the 
road to a West Britain that was rising upon the ruins of Ire- 
land. The discovery startled them, and they wisely said, 
"What will it profit a people to gain the whole world if they 
thereby lose their national soul ? " And thereupon the new 
movement in Ireland first took form of life. 

These thinkers began in a modest way, but still firm and 
assertive, to exchange their opinions, and whilst far from ob- 
jecting to political reform, or to the work of the politicians, so 
far as this work made for good, they boldly said that it were 
far better for the Irish people to forego corporeal advantages 
than to lose the spiritual. They said it were better that Ireland 
should never gain her political independence, if, at the same 
time that she became a political entity, she was doomed to 
become a spiritual nonentity. They asserted that, whilst none 
more sincerely than they craved for those rights which had so 
long been denied to our country, still political reforms should 
move step for step with the regeneration of the Nation's soul. 
They said that politicians had unwittingly been pawning this 



1902.] The Reawakening in Ireland. 21 

for seventy years, that the people must be awakened, the 
Nation's eyes opened, and the tide of anglicization, which had 
been deluging the land, turned back, Irish ideals set up again, 
and Irish ideas and characteristics fostered. So that, despite 
England and the world, we would remake an Irish Nation, 



Arthur Griffith, Frank Pahv. Padraic MacMakus. 

Editor of (be '• Uniled President of the Gaelic Founder of the Gael!: 

Irishman." League of London. League of Argenlin.1. 

self respecting and respected of all — a Nation in ever}' essential 
characteristic save the minor one of form. This was the doc- 
trine preached by, at first, non-politicians, but it infected the 
young men in the political ranks ; they subscribed to its articles 
and took it up with enthusiasm. Strangely, though the general 
movement has accumulated astonishing force it is still without 
organization, without head, and without any one official mouth- 
piece. Thousands of young men who have created this force 
seem, still, to be upon the rafts that they took to some years 
ago. But they have, in great part, for safety and mutual sup- 
port, collected — to pursue the figure — into a number of fleets, 
all of which, however, as well as the single sails that still remain 
crawling over the waters, are moved by the same main impulse, 
and steering for the same harbor. 

There is one of these fleets, however, far greater, and more 
numerous, and more important than all the others combined. 
It is the Gaelic League, a now powerful association, whose 
direct object is the revival of the Irish language and its restora- 
tion to the place it should hold, and to the place it did hold 
seventy years ago (before the inception of the English school 



22 The Reawakening in Ireland. [Oct, 

system), as the household and commercial language of the Irish 
people. But in this, its main object, is comprehended the 
accomplishment of an Ireland from which we had fast been 
falling away — an Ireland that shall be Irish not merely in lan- 
guage but in manners, in customs, in modes of thought, in 
aspirations and ideals — a truly and genuinely Irish Ireland. 

The Gaelic League, though it existed before, is now the 
paramount symptom of the new movement. For years it had 
been a voice crying in the wilderness where no man might 
hear. It had been the voice of a small band of self- sacrificing 
idealists, few but noble, soulful, and determined men: seers of 
visions, and dreamers of dreams — ^so a sympathetic world re- 
garded them as it hurried by. But, to the world's surprise, 
their visions are rapidly becoming actualities, and their dreams 
taking palpable form and shape. Month by month during the 
past half- a dozen years their ranks were being recruited by the 
young men and young women of Ireland (for, to their credit 
be it said, the women are, in this case, little less active than 
the men) who have enthusiastically flocked to that standard 
upon which is inscribed Tir a*s Teanga — Country and Tongue. 
And they who, a few years since, were a pitiful, isolated poor 
handful uf dreamers, command now a multitude of laboring en- 
thusiasts who are to be reckoned by the ten thousand, and 
whose wonderfully successful work is only to be measured by a 
standard proportionately great. The wave of enthusiasm^ with 
which they have deluged the Island, has been practically irre- 
sistible, and has borne down all opposition. The strides they 
have already made, and the success they have already attained, 
is only less startling than the thorough and complete success 
that all penetrative minds which observe the movement see 
surely in store for them, ere the present decade shall have 
ended — an Ireland revolutionized, and ideal in the most vital 
essentials, being arisen to astonish the world. And this, remem- 
ber, is not a rhetorical flower of enthusiasm but the plain fruit 
of close and critical thought 

The wave of enthusiasm which has lifted the young men 
and women of our Island does not cease here, but has like^vise 
visited colonies of drifted Irish men and women where they 
have been cast in far quarters of the globe. That our exiled 
people in the United States and Canada should respond in keen 
sympathy with their brothers and sisters at home is in no ^va.jr 



I902.] The Reawakening in Ireland. 



Ethna Carbbrv {Mas. Skuhae MacManUS, recently deceased) and iRIS Olkvkk 
Poeu, Ediiors of " The Shan Van Vochi." the pioneer lileraiy orpra ol the new movement. 

surprising. But it is more striking to consider that this far- 
rolliog wave of Gaelic enthusiasm has even swept up the Rio 
de la Plata, and inundated the pampas of Buenos Ayres, where 
thousands of our countrymen, or sons of our countrymen, who, 
half a century ago, went thither to herd sheep, have not merely 
embraced the propaganda for their own sakes, having estab- 
lished a Gaelic League of Argentina, but are likewise, season 
after season, forwarding to the Old Land, to help the good 
work here, subscriptions whose generousness has amazed the 
multitude at home. The great colony of our countrymen, who, 
in the general exodus, amounting almost to a stampede, 
which swept out of our country after the famine years, had 
pitched their tents upon vast, lone plains over which glowtd 



24 The Reawakening in Ireland. [Oct, 

the strange Southern Cross — there pitched their tents and 
prospered. 

In Ireland itself the fruits of the Gaelic League are every 
day, and everywhere, evident. The number of day schools 
which some years ago taught the language of their own coun* 
try might have been reckoned on the fingers. To-day it is 
taught in some thousands of schools throughout the land, and, 
week by week, this number is increasing with astonishing 
rapidity — popular opinion having forced the hand of the West 
British Education Board, compelling it to grant special privi- 
leges and inducements to teachers of Irish? In hundreds of the 
towns and villages, and notably in the hitherto anglicized cities 
of Dublin, Belfast, and Cork, numerous night-schools sprang 
into being in which teachers, for the most part voluntary, are 
acquainting the many thousands of adults with a grammatical 
knowledge of their mother tongue. Three salaried chief organ- 
izers of the Gaelic League, and several sub- organizers, are tour- 
ing the various parts of the country, holding meetings, arousing 
enthusiasm, and establishing classes in every parish, and every 
school. Provincial and local festivals are the order of the day ; 
festivals at which competitions are held and prizes awarded — 
some being prizes specially offered by the Gaelic Leagues of 
America and Argentina — both for oral and literary aptitude in 
the language ; for original Gaelic poetry ; for Gaelic oratory, 
Gaelic songs, and Gaelic stories. And the poetic and oratorical 
powers displayed at these gatherings by illiterate old men and 
women, who may have trudged a dozen miles of moor and 
mountain to compete, are marvellous. One great annual festi- 
val, the Oireachtas, is held in Dublin in the month of May. 
It is looked forward to with enthusiastic interest, and prepared 
for during the whole of the preceding year, and attended by 
men and women of all ages from all parts of the island; some 
to compete for prizes which in the aggregate amount to several 
hundreds of pounds, and others to find food for renewed enthu- 
siasm. Thus are the people encouraged to foster old stories, 
old songs, old airs, old manners and amusements, and stimu* 
lated to create new literature. 

This great and important festival is now five years estab- 
lished, and is, each succeeding year, a far greater and far more 
important, and has now become fixed as far-and-away the chief, 
national event. Last season, also, for the first time, Gaelic 



1902.] THE Reawakening in Ireland. 



26 THE REAWAKENING IN IRELAND, [Oct., 

Summer- Schools, for the benefit of teachers on their holidays, 
were started at the seaside resorts. 

Not only has the wonderful progress of the Gaelic League 
called into existence an official weekly organ. An Cliaidhcamh 
Soluis (The Sword of Light), and a literary quarterly, Banba, 
as well as made more valuable its monthly magazine, IrisUabhar 
na Gaedhilge^ but the great body of the provincial press, as 
well as the leading Dublin dailies, have all been forced to lay 
in fonts of Gaelic type, and print columns of Gaelic notes, stories, 
songs, and speeches, from day to day, and from week to week. 
And in a press so conservative as is the Irish that was an 
achievement. Gaelic printing, in all its branches, has got a 
remarkable fillip ; and the Irish Text Society is busy publish- 
ing, in elaborate form, ancient Irish texts, that scholars sorrow- 
fully thought, a few years since, would surely pass into oblivion. 
And in the production of entirely new material both of prose 
and verse, song, story, and novel, Gaelic authors and Gaelic 
printers are rapidly at work. 

Though not the direct work of the Gaelic League, it is one 
result of it that an annual Feis Ceoil (Festival of Music), whose 
object is the development and fostering of Irish Music, is now 
well and firmly established, and popular. And an Irish Literary 
Theatre has come into existence, which this year, for the first 
time, put upon the boards, in the leading Dublin theatre, an 
Irish play, Casadh an t-Stigain (The Twisting of the Rope), the 
production of the distinguished Irish scholar and poet. Dr. 
Douglas Hyde, President of the Gaelic League. Elsewhere, at 
provincial Feisanna, several very successful Gaelic plays, written 
by two very earnest workers, scholars and litterateurs. Father 
Peadar O'Leary, and Peadar T. MacGinley, have been enacted. 

And, finally, Irish history which, since the inception of the 
'' National " School system (a system avowedly established for 
the purpose of anglicizing the Irish nation), was strictly forbid- 
den in the education of the youth, was, after strenuous efforts, 
placed upon the school programme last year. And the young 
boys and girls of Ireland are now, at the beginning of the 
twentieth century, for the first time permitted the dangerous 
privilege of an acquaintance with the history of their country. 

But, recognizing that, however much they might instil na- 
tional ideas into the youth of the country, it was only making 
ropes of sand if — as has long been the case — when these young 



I902.] 



The Reawakening in Ireland, 



27 



people grew to maturity, they took the watery western way 
over which our young people have been streaming for genera- 
tions, to seek for fortune in your ever-generous western Repub- 
lic. The patriotic workers see that the people must be kept in 
the country if we are to have a nation. And they acknowledge 
that in order to hold them industries, at which our people may 
earn a livelihood, must be established and enthusiastically sup- 
ported. Therefore the stoppage of emigration and the fostering 
of Irish industries have 
become two most essen- 
tial features of the new 
national programme. A 
strenuous, even bitter, 
fight against emigration 
is being carried on from 
press and platform. In 
some parts of the coun- 
try A nti- Emigration 
Leagues have been form- 
ed. And even as I write 
I lift a little provincial 
weekly paper which, after 
a piteous appeal to the 
thousands who have been 
thinking of quitting their 
country, earnestly calls 
for volunteers to further 
the anti* emigration pro- 
paganda, and offers gold 



FOR IRELAND'S SAKE. 

I, 

of , County 
have secured from 
of 



County 



the promise 



that although he (she) had fully made up 
his (her) mind to emigrate, he (she) will 
not leave Ireland until after Sept. 27th, 
1902 — if then. 

Dated 



The names of the patriotic boys and girls, 
men and women, who give their solemn word, 
shall be inscribed on the Roll of Honor to be 
afterwards prepared and published. The cer- 
tificates offered to the Volunteers and would- 
be emigrants will be works of art, suitable for 
framing. — Clipping from the AnglthCelt, 



and silver medals for patriotism to the twenty-one of its 
readers who will, within the next six months, succeed in keep- 
ing most people from emigrating, and a vellum certificate to 
every one of its readers who will succeed in keeping in the 
country even one individual who had been determined on 
leaving it. And every intending emigrant, who gives his or 
her solemn promise to stay in Ireland for at least twelve 
months, will be awarded a certificate, and have his or her 
name inscribed upon a Roll of Honor that is to be prepared 
and published. 

As it is an almost hereditary instinct for the eyes of our 
young men and women to turn to their Mecca in the West^ 



28 The Reawakening in Ireland. [Oct, 

those who have set out to fight the emigration problem have 
taken upon their hands a work that will certainly require all 
the buoyant resolution of optimists and grit of heroes to ac- 
complish. It is difficult to foretell the result, but I can readily 
see that pubhc opinion may be so prejudiced, and turned so 
antipathetic, that those who would still persist in leaving their 
country will slink off with shamed souls. 

The revival and support of Irish industries, by which means 
it is hoped that Irishmen may be enabled to live at home in 
Ireland, speaks not merely to the more thoughtful and more 
patriotic of our people, but it has a big advantage in appeal- 
ing to the class of tradesmen who are swayed more by material 
instincts, and, consequently, it has been enthusiastically, and 
instantly, taken up, and seems surely on the highroad to 
success. And already, amongst a vast body of our people, it 
is considered a shame not to wear Irish- spun clothes, Irish- 
made boots, Irish-made hats and caps, not to smoke Irish-made 
tobacco, not to use Irish blacking, Irish soap, and Irish starch. 
And woe to the unfortunate individual who, on foreign marked 



Poet. Dram.ili5l, and Chief Promoter of Aiiilior ui - LfEfniis of CuduiUiin.' etc. 

(he Irish I,ilerary Theatre. .\ promultT of the Iruh Ulcrary Tli, Mtre. 

paper, unthinkingly indites his Pro Bono Publico communica- 
tion to one or other of the more patriotic organs that preach 
the doctrine of the Irish industrial revival ; he will awake to 
find himself notorious ! The result of this campaign has 
naturally been that almost every branch of Irish industry has 
had a rapid and a forceful impetus, that many manufacturers 



1902.] THE REAWAKENING IN IRELAND. 29 

were, for a time, unable to cope with the orders that flooded 
them, and that some, whose fame, previously, had not carried 
further than the view from their own chimney-tops, have their 
g«ods now in demand at both ends of Ireland. Of all the 
industries none has got such a wonderful fillip as paper-making. 



J. J. DOVLB, PSADAH MaG FhCONK- D. V. MORAN. 

Author o(  Leabhar LAOtgH, Ejimr of ihe " Leader.- 

Caintc." etc. Gaelic League Propagandisl. Responsible for the great ' 

{Ancient Irish cosiume which industrial revival. 

, it is sought to restore.) 

And one other thing, that cannot be forgotten in enumerate 
ing the elements that are working in the regeneration of 
Ireland, is Horace Plunkett's Agricultural Board, and particu- 
larly the Co-operative system that Mr. Plunkett has established 
so successfully among the farmers. Both for the farmer and 
for shopkeepers, and for the country in general, things arc 
now very much brighter, and very much more prosperous, than 
they have been for a century, the people being better educated 
and more patriotic, industries being developed, farming carried 
on more scientifically : and altogether there being much more 
capital, and less poverty, in the country. And, notwithstand- 
ing our great and just antipathy to emigration, I have no 
hesitation in admitting that this last- mentioned condition is, in no 
small measure, due to America and to our poor boys and girls 
who have toiled and sweated there, and given, to you Americans, 
of their muscle, and brawn, and brain ; of their bodies, ay, 
and of their red heart's blood — this latter willingly and joy- 
ously. American wealth has undeniably, and undoubtedly, 
bettered the condition of Ireland ; but, if it has, Irish bones 



30 THE Reawakening in Ireland. [Oct., 

and red Irish blood have nurtured and watered the fields of 
America. You have got your equivalent 

While it is true, indeed, that our* love of England was 
never great, it is difficult to say whether, under the new state 
of feeling that pervades the island, our hatred of England or 
our love of Ireland predominates. The former would certainly 
be thought to be the case by a stranger who chanced to visit 
any even the most remote recesses of our mountains when, in 
exuberance of joy over the great Boer victories, which marked 
the early part of the present Anglo- Boer war, our people went 
frantic with delight, and our hills spoke to the heavens with 
tongues of fire. 

When, too, the household knelt at the nightly rosary, in the 
poor mountain cabin, the bhean-an-tighe^ good woman, led in 
fervent Pater and Ave, for the success of the Boers, ere she 
hung up her beads again. 

Elated as they were with the Boer successes, they were 
proportionately depressed over Boer defeats. The capture of 
Cronje was one of the sorest and most pitiful blows that our 
people received during the whole course of the war. And apropos 
thereof, I remember well how, some days after this capture, 
when a rumor — as strange and unaccountable as the many 
others that float in through our hills daily — got whispered around 
that Cronje had escaped, a poor shoemaker, a neighbor of mine, 
who lay on a sick bed almost in extremity, hearing the voice 
of an incomer, who, in the kitchen beneath him, breathlessly 
imparted the rumor to an excited household, instantly drew his 
clothes t^ him, got into them, and, ere he could be stopped or 
hindered, had dashed out, and was gone through the neighbor- 
ing houses to satisfy himself on the reliability of news that 
seemed to him too good to be true. To this earnest poor man, 
the fate of Cronje was of far more importance than his own. 
And in this he was no marked exception amongst his fellows. 

This state of anti-English feeling has become so aggravated 
and so general as to penetrate England's own army, even to a 
turbulent degree. The world knows how, as detachment after 
detachment of Irish soldiers were laid under orders for South 
Africa, they gave riotous proof of protest. Some of them had 
to be captured and brought forcibly on board ship, whilst, all 
the time, they confounded the echoes of the Cove of Cork with 
thunderous cheers for Kruger and the Boers. This state of dis- 



1902.] THE REAWAKENING IN IRELAND. 31 

affection in the British army has, in sympathy with the new 
feeling in Ireland, been growing for some years past, and is 
moit pronouncedly marked in the ranks of the county militias. 
The methods taken by some of these militia regiments to mark 
their disloyalty even two years ago, were the source of much 
local amusement in Ireland. At one military camp of three 



Padhaic O'Shea. Taig O'Uonochve. 

Gaelic Scholar. Writer, and Edilor of " Banba " (Gaelic Liiemry 

Propagandist. Quarler))'). 

such regiments in training, one regiment was loyal and two 
were disloyal, and, as may well be expected, there was little 
love lost between the loyal regiment and the disloyal ones. 
On an occasion, when the Commander of Forces in Ireland 
came to review them, a sham battle was elected to take place 
between the regiment that happened to be loyal and one of the 
disloyal ones. But the feelings of the latter regiment got 
wrought up so that, at the Jast moment, this event had to be 
foregone ; upon which the disloyal regiment waxed very wroth, 
for they protested that they had been deprived of a grand 
opportunity of paying off, in a very emphatic way, a long 
score. Afterwards, when " God save the Queen " was played 
by the bands, they stubbornly refused to uncover, and eventu- 
ally, when dismissed, marched back to camp to the music and 
words of such rebel tunes as "The Boys of Wexford" and 
" The Risin' of the Moon." 

Recruiting in Ireland, which for a long time was a flourish- 
ing business, gathering into the ranks of the English army two 
classes of Irish boys — unthinking ones and unworthy ones — has 



32 The Reawakening in Ireland, [Oct, 

within the last few years dwindled to insignificance. For the 
new spirit that pervades the country as well as (an outcome of 
it) a direct campaign against recruiting, has thrown so much 
obloquy upon the wearing of the English livery, that even when, 
still, some unworthy ones join the British army, they know that 
they are bringing shame upon themselves and disgrace upon 
their friends. 

This, then, is the present state of Ireland. And all these 
things are the symptoms and expressions of the strange, silent 
new movement, without head, form, or ofTicial mouthpiece. A 
movement which, because it doesn't answer the technical re- 
quirements of a modern movement, even the political journals 
of the country affect to ignore ; and the unwilling ones, who 
are driven before it, refuse to recognize — a movement that has 
confidently grappled with the monster of Anglicization that 
was, silently and surely, crushing out our national soul — a 
movement that has put this monster to its knees, and will as 
surely overcome and strangle it — 2, movement that has suc- 
ceeded in making " West Britain " a term of the most shameful 
and ignominious reproach which, to-day, can be cast upon an 
Irishman — a movement that has no toleration for English claims, 
and no room for English royalty — ^a movement that, more 
silently, but more surely and steadily, than any which preceded 
it, is infusing into our people the old soul and the old spirit, 
warning them from the material instincts that were threatening, 
giving them, instead, high and noble ideas, and, despite the 
technicalities of superimposed English laws, and English rule, 
truly and certainly making for Ireland a Nation. 

In the presence of the Canadian premier, and members of 
his cabinet, recently, John Redmond proclaimed that if Eng- 
land, in her generosity, only bestowed upon Ireland the same 
rights and privileges that Canada had taken to herself, she 
would make of Ireland a colony as true and loyal as Canada 
or Australia John Redmond in saying these words spoke, 
either as a politician or as one in complete ignorance of the feel- 
ings that were nearest the hearts of his countrymen. I think I 
know the Irish heart, and I know the spirit of independence 
that is ever warm there, and the feeling of scorn, for the slave- 
master, that actuates it ; and I know that, though our people 
struggle and will struggle for Home Rule, and Land Reform, 
and such, England, in no spasm of her utmost imaginable 



I902.] The Reawakening in Ireland. 33 

« 

generosity, could ever bestow on our people that bribe which 
would induce them to renounce the ennobling desire for inde- 
pendence that preserved our Nation a Nation in darker hours 
and darker times than these, and, as acknowledged slaves, for 
material advantage, consent, at length, to kiss their chains. 

At one period of our history we used to look to Spain for 
redemption; afterwards to France; and later still to America. 
But now, like sensible men, it has dawned upon us that we 
must work out our own salvation, and our motto nowadays is — 
what should be the motto of all people who would be free — 
the good Gaelic one of Sinn Fein, Sinn Fein, Amhain (Our- 
selves, Ourselves alone). 

In a pleasant hill in Donegal is a cave where a warrior of 
old time and his men, with hands upon their swords, sleep an' 
enchanted sleep upon enchanted steeds. A belated countryman 
once wandered by mistake into and through this cave, and acci- 
dentally sounded a gong that instantly woke up this band, who 
eagerly asked, with one voice, " Has the time come ? " But 
being answered by their chieftain, ** Not yet, not yet ! Sleep 
on,'* bowed their heads and resumed again their enchanted 
slumber. When the great hour comes, it is said, these ancient 
warriors will fight in the forefront of Ireland's ranks, and lead 
the way to victory. Then, released from their enchantment of 
centuries, they will go rejoicing to their final rest. Embodied 
in this tradition is the great' and grand lesson for Irishmen, 
that, if they will be free, it is the olden spirit that must battle 
for them, and cleave the way to Freedom. 

And it is this lesson which inspires the new movement in 
Ireland. 




VOL. LXXVI. — 3 



S/ST£/t Marie DU SACR£-C(Et/R. [Oct, 



SISTER MARIE DU SACRfi-CCEUR. A REFORMER IN 
EDUCATION. 

BY SUZANNE DE CA5TOMIR. 

N the 6th of July, 1901, in the small town of 
Mauriac in France, a great soul expired, and 
Adrienne Laroche — or, as she was called in re- 
ligious life, Marie du Sacr^-Coeur — found in death 
the peace she had in vain sought in this life. 
In Catholic Europe her name was well known, although her 
fame only lasted a few years; by some she was greeted as the 
dawn of a new day, to others she was an object of hatred and 
discord, for she embodied that word of which many have a 
holy horror — reform. The aim of her life was the improvement 
of woman's education, the forming of her personality, the in- 
tellectual culture both of soul and mind, so as to make the per- 
fect woman, equally fitted to lead her own simple life or to be 
the ornament of a family circle. 

Mire Marie was not what we call a Feminist ; she defends 
herself energetically against the name, although the definition of 
her opinions on that subject closely resembles the so-called 
movement. To us it seems so very simple and self-evident ; 
but one must know Catholic Europe, and especially France, 
nowadays, to be able to understand how great a courage is re- 
quired for a woman and a nun to undertake a reform of con- 
vent education, based upon those principles. 

Born in 1857, in a modest but well-to-do family, she was 
always passionately interested in girls and their education. Not 
wishing to marry, and still desiring to utilize the educational 
powers she felt in herself, she entered, when twenty-one years 
old, the teaching order of Notre Dame. 

In this order Mere Marie du Sacre-Cosur lived for twenty- 
years. She was devoted to her convent and to the religious life ; 
still she felt sadly that it did not suffice for the aim she had 
in view. The pupils diminished year by year ; the girls she 
had taken such pains to tit for life seemed, as soon as they- 



I902.] Sister Marie du Sacr£'C(eur. 35 

turned their backs upon convent walls, only to try to forget as 
quickly as possible their kind mistresses and their good advice. 
Evidently the education they received was not a sufficient 
foundation on which to build a Christian life; and seeing that 
the result answered so little to the work, Mere Marie con- 
cluded that something must be wrong. In a word, she wanted 
to bring back the old influence of the monastic orders on 
humanity by making existing agencies what they used to be. 
Her ideal was the grand old figures of monasticism, who did 
not try to serve both God and Mammon by concessions to 
the spirit of the world, and to whom intellectual life was as 
necessary to the soul as the daily food or- activity was to the body. 
She deplored the modern educational error of scission between 
Science and Religion, the two greatest powers of the world. 
" Why do absurd prejudices blind so many souls into such 
strange errors with regard to science? One would think that 
science was the greatest evil and a perpetual danger. Why 
should not a devout nun love study ? is there an insurmounta- 
ble incompatibility between science and the religious spirit? is 
sanctity the exclusive privilege of ignorance, or ignorance the 
principal characteristic of sanctity ? " (Les Religieuses Enseign- 
antes). Or again: "If a high-minded soul has thoughts of her 
own, why stifle them ? Why prevent the voice telling us what 
a noble heart has reflected? Do we calculate the deep im- 
pression and lasting good these simple ideas thrown among the 
tumultuous current of our impious literature might produce 
among souls that hunger for something higher ? Why should 
not every intelligence give out the highest measure it can pro- 
duce ? or are the children of darkness always to be cleverer 
than the sons of light ? " (Idem). 

These and other similar questions were the constant cry of 
her heart. One feels through them the craving for the intel- 
lectual and scientific light that was denied to her in her con- 
vent, and that she wanted to impart to others, to save them 
from moral starvation, and to open to women, whether as nuns 
or in the world, the full enjoyment of the gifts that God had 
given them. Her ironical description of the poor young nun 
who tried to obtain permission of her superiors to read some- 
thing besides dry school manuals or trashy pious books is pathetic, 
but it was destined to create for her many enemies among 
the ordinary nuns, who had never felt such wants, and who 



36 Sister Marie ^du Sacr^-Cceur. [Oct, 

considered this so-called innovation as a direct temptation and 
snare of the evil spirit. They had been accustomed generation 
after generation to continue in the same beaten track ; to try 
I to fill the girls with as much knowledge as was thought com- 

I ' patible with ordinary comme il faut education, which was all 

that was demanded for one destined for the duties of a wife 
and mother ; the parents did not care for more, and the future 
I husbands still less. Their religious duties were enforced on 

I them : a daily routine of pious exercises, good in themselves 

but scarcely sufficient to form a basis for the Christian life of 
girls when left to their own experiences, or with which to resist 
temptations that were sure to meet them when they had to 
live among people in the world away from the sheltering wings 
of the nuns. 

Now and then a former pupil would come back to visit the 
convent ; and the good sisters would look admiringly at the 
transformation of their child when she displayed the change 
both of mind and clothes, for her new milieu had given her 
that external varnish which to superficial minds so often means 
all the development required. And her simple-minded educators 
were proud of their work. But Mere Marie, with quicker 
perceptions, saw through the shallowness and vanity of such an 
education, and in the condescending ways of the young lady, 
who had done away with all their early influence, she detected 
a pitying contempt for the ignorance of her former mistresses. 
Mere Marie's heart smote her and she suffered intensely. 
Some other day would bring back a stray sheep, a sufferings 
woman who had shipwrecked faith and morals, and whose re- 
pentant cry : " Had I only known better ! " seemed a constant 
reproach to her. 

Years went by and nothing changed except that fewer and 
fewer pupils came, and there seemed no remedy for this deser- 
tion. Mere Marie had her own ideas about the matter; they 
ripened every year in her soul, and at last she felt that she 
must do something, were it only a cry in the desert : some- 
thing that might attract the attention of the Catholic world ; 
something that might bear fruit in future and put an end to 
this misery, even were it to cost her life and happiness — as it 
eventually did. 

And she became what she calls herself : the incarnation of 
an idea. 



1902.] Sist£/^ Marie du Sacr^-Cceur. 37 

Long before she had confided herself to her superiors, and 
now, with their permission, she devoted herself to the writing 
of two books in which she developed her ideas and the motives 
for the reform she wished. In the first book, called Les Reli- 
gieuses Enseignantes^ she draws a comparison between the in- 
struction given in the convent schools of France and that of 
the government schools, to the complete advantage of the latter, 
which she considers one could not do better than imitate, — of 
course on the condition of Christianizing them. She proposes 
to found a Normal School for Teachers, where the most gifted 
nuns of all teaching orders could pass some years in order to 
qualify themselves for their mission and obtain sufficient knowl- 
edge to be able to educate girls according to modern principles 
and fit them for life. 

This project raised a storm against her. Never had any oiie 
before dared to propose to unite, were it only for some years, 
the subjects of different religious orders under the same roof, 
and they judged that she herself must have very little of the 
spirit of her order, or understood that of others. Neither 
calumny nor unjust accusations were spared her. That she, on 
account of the printing and publishing of her books, had to 
live outside her convent, did not make matters better. Still 
she persevered, and obtained permission from the ecclesiastical 
authorities to open a normal school, if she could persuade others 
to join her. Some new and unknown religious orders, who had 
no traditions of a glorious past to which they clung, accepted. 
She hired and furnished a house, and was going to risk this 
first experiment, aided by several professors and teachers of 
great Catholic reputation, when on Good Friday, 1899, a week 
before the opening, a despatch arrived from Rome in which the 
Holy Congregation of Rites forbade her work and disapproved 
her books, not allowing them to be sold or spread among the 
public. 

All was over ; her enemies had triumphed, and for the first 
time Mere Marie lost courage. She telt the combat too un- 
equal ; she felt that her intentions, so pure and full of zeal and 
love of souls, had been considered only as a personal revolt, 
an ambitious overestimation of self. She was too good a 
Catholic not to submit immediately ; she gave up all, and only 
desired to return to her simple convent again, where, unknown 
froni the world, she could lead her life in peace and quiet. 



38 Sister Marie du Sacr^-Cceur, [Oct, 

But it was too late. She had left with the full perniission 
of her superiors on the understanding that it was only an ex- 
periment to be tried, an essay to be made ; but when she had 
failed, when her superiors saw she was disapproved by Rome 
and the object of hatred and persecution from all sides, they 
had not the courage to take her back, and henceforth all con- 
vents were shut to her. 

It was an unexpected and bitter trial. She writes in a 
private letter to a friend : " Yes, the Cross has struck me. The 
Lord be blessed I With all the rejoicings of my Christian soul, 
with all my Faith, I accept His will, only too happy, in paying 
this price, to show myself indeed a child of holy Church. 
Have I felt this blow ? have I suffered ? Much and very little, 
God has carried me along and I have not bargained the sacri- 
fices ; He has made them light. Still, in consequence of the 
fact, to me inexplicable and by my enemies joyously qualified 
as a condemnation, all the convents of my order have shut 
their doors upon me. How am I to live? wherewith can I 
pay the enormous expenses of printing, furnishing, etc., since 
the sale of my books has been forbidden ? All questions that 
only God can answer. I expect all from Him." 

This project was over, but another remained. Her second 
book, La formation Catholique de la Femme contemporaine^ had 
treated the subject of education directly : the education of the 
character of woman more than of her instruction, and it had 
created a sensation. 

Among Catholic families in France little is done for the 
formation of women into self-thinking individuals. On the con- 
trary everything is done to prevent the development of her 
personality, which old-fashioned prejudices suppose would spoil 
her " childish charm " and do harm to family life. They could 
not or would not see the immense advantage an educated 
woman would be to her surroundings; the influence a strongs 
character would have on the education of her children. It was 
all very well to say that piety is all that is required of a 
woman, but, to quote Mere Marie's words : ** St. Paul wrote 
that piety is useful in all things, but he did not add that it 
suffices for all things ; and it would indeed be an error to fancy- 
it ! '' 

To found a school in which she could exercise her influence 



I902.] Sister Marie du SacrA-Cceur. 39 

directly over young girls, who as future mothers might become 
a fruitful soil for spreading her ideas, now became the object of 
her life. But without the permission of Rome such an under- 
taking would be useless to try. She determined to risk an 
audacious step : to go to Rome, to throw herself before the 
feet of the Holy Father, and let him judge her case. Her 
child-like faith in the great Pope was not deceived. Through 
influential friends she obtained an audience on the i8th of May, 
1899, and there she opened her whole heart to him, persuading 
him of her perfect orthodoxy and good intentions. Leo XIH. 
listened to her with paternal interest, gave her his blessing, and 
encouraged her in the following words : " We know that your 
principles upon education are good; go back to Paris, continue 
teaching, and may our Apostolic Benediction remain with you." 

Thanks to this, the disapprovement was lifted and her books 
again allowed to be sold. She came back to Paris full of hope 
and energy, thinking all would now be easy. Kind and gener- 
ous friends helped her to open a school in Rue d'Assas, which 
she named Institut Ste. Paule. There all was to be different 
from- other colleges, which in France are still organized after 
the pattern of military schools, or still worse, penitential in- 
stitutions. She intended liberty and love of study to take the 
place of enforced discipline; confidence in the noble qualities of 
youth was to be the basis of a hitherto unknown independence. 
All was done to make the pupils feel that it was a home and 
not a locked prison; she tried to show it even in the arrange- 
ments of the house. " Our simple but comfortable installation 
pleases all visitors. The rooms are airy and spacious, full of 
sun; we have two large studies, four charming rooms for the 
pensionnaires. The whole aspect is so fresh and white that one 
sees immediately it is a house fitted out to suit young girls; 
nothing reminds them of a cage — the birds may come safely, 
they will not be smothered." 

The birds did come from all parts of the world, and to all 
Mere Marie was a motherly friend. She knew so well the 
nature of women, and no trouble found a deaf ear in her. So 
girls of different nationalities and religions began to group 
around her. Still the French kept back. It was a great trial 
to M^re Marie, for her feelings were bound up with those of 
her country. She had refused good offers in England and 
Switzerland because she wanted solely to devote herself to the 



40 Sister Marie Du SACR&-C<EUR. [Oct. 

regeneration of her countrywomen, and they seemed not to re- 
quire her. Strange to say, the French are generally most con- 
servative in their devotion to old habits, and keep away from 
what to them seem novelties. In time she would have been 
sure to gain them, but this final success was not granted her; 
her health could not stand the perpetual strain. 

" Life in Paris is killing," she wrote to a friend ; " it is ter- 
rible ; and although I feel a deadly fatigue, still I walk on and 
God seems to bless my work. Pray much for me. . . . " 

For a couple of years she struggled on ; God alone knows 
under how many difficulties, financial and moral, alone against 
powerful enemies, feeling her health daily breaking down from 
fatigue, overwork, and actual want, until God suddenly called 
her away. 

Her mission on earth was over. 

" Unless the seed falls into the earth and dies, it cannot 
bear fruit." 

Will her noble soul, her good intentions, be a seed found 
worthy to bear fruit ? A future generation may perhaps give 
us an answer. 




©HE DBSOLAITION OP BABYLON. 

" THE BURDEN OF BABYLON, WHICH ISAIAS THE SON OF 

AMOS SAW 

(Paraphrase of Chapter xiii.) 
BY N. J. BELL. 

jING, sacred Muse! May all the rage be thine, 
That thrilled Isaias with a warmth divine ; 
Whose haloed visions, and heroic strains, 
Of deathless joy, or everlasting pains, 

Fan faith to flame, and guide to rapture's goal, 

A whirlwind rising in the fevered soul : 

Oh ! like the prophet has rehearsed its fate, 

The impending doom of Babylon relate. 

On towering peaks a beck*ning standard blows, 
'Tis Heaven's dread signal for the birth of woes; 
A voice breaks forth, and speaks the Lord's command. 
To the far limits of the sinful land ; 
Let all thy people to that voice give ear. 
The peasant hearken, and the noble hear. 
Thy sons and daughters to the gates attend. 
And know their doom, nor scruple at their end. 

What mighty echoes from the mountains rise. 
And roll like thunder through the sounding skies ! 
From these deep murmurs fly on airy wings, 
Contending nations, or the clash of kings ? 
The vile, the vain, are come to kiss the rod, 
The loved and chosen meet an angered God ; 
The God of wrath the multitudes acclaim. 
With words of pity, but with hearts of blame ; 
Heaven's vengeful King commands his tribes obey. 
His hosts are forming for the hostile fray ; 
He speaks : Ye sinners howl, nor hope to gain 
The wondrous mercy that was shown in vain ; 
Ungrateful people ! every joy were thine, 
For none could love you with a love like Mine ; 
Slaves to your wickedness, to Reason foes. 
And guilty parents of your future woes, 
Lo 1 livid Fury leaps from out the skies. 
Shrink back your bodies, and avert your eyes ! 



42 The Desolation of Babylon. [Oct., 



It comes, Destruction ! o'er the land it sweeps, 
Doves flee before it, and a kingdom weeps; 
Oh ! pale-eyed mortals, who beneath their breath. 
Shall moan for courage at the blast of death ; 
All hands shall feel a swooning numbness grow, 
All hearts run melting like the mountain snow ; 
Their minds shall sicken with a deadly fear, 
Like flames their faces shall to each appear; 
Their helpless forms shall agony attain. 
And writhe like woman in her labor pain; 
Their mutual horror shall assault their eyes, 
With wild amazement, and with mad surprise ; 
A gloomy blackness shall be spread on high, 
^* The sun rise darkened through the ghostly sky. 

The constellations' light shall cease to flow, 
The stars to glitter, and the moon to glow : 
Then shrieks shall rise as feels the frantic race, 
The earth lunge madly from its wonted place ! 
Ill fated fools, whose arrogance and pride. 
Bewail the judgment of the Lord defied ; 
My curse shall teach them, as it smites them low, 
Heaven's love for Virtue which it yearns to show : 
Beside the man whom Virtue's arts refine. 
The gold of Ophir will be vain to shine. 
As sheep unherded, timorous of harm. 
Flee filled with panic at a wild alarm, 
Diverse they run, the flocks are scattered wide, 
No union bonds them, and no shepherds guide ; 
Thus they shall fly to scowling guilt's despair. 
And mad contrition shall pursue them there; 
As the swift legions press their panting flight, 
Toward native lands for succor in their plight, 
The sword shall swing, the backward hordes be slain. 
And fields be flooded with the crimson rain ; 
Striplings and sires shall glut the thirsty blade, 
And all be murdered who would give them aid ; 
O'er beauteous maids the sanguine streams shall ride, 
And slaughtered infants swell the gory tide ; 
Behold ! the Medes shall rise at My decree, 
And hurl new terrors at the throngs that flee, 
Nor gold nor silver dazzle with desire, 
But Heaven shall fill them with ferocious fire ; 



I902.] The Desolation of Babylon. 

Jehovah's wrath shall dart their arrows round. 
And strew pale corpses all along the ground. 
With mangled mothers, these to bits be torn. 
The dimpled nursling, and the babe unborn. 

Fallen from thy power, O Babylon the fair. 
The Chaldeans' glory, and their boastful care, 
Whose templed crimes God 'neath his sceptre brings. 
And lays them level with the pomp of kings ; 
Thus shall it meet its awful earthly hell, 
As Sodom toppled, and Gomorrah fell. 

Here none shall live, though countless ages roll. 
Here smile no refuge to a single soul, 
For weary shepherds shall avoid the spot. 
Nor wandering Arab form the tented cot ; 
But through the shapeless, shaggy, gruesome piles, 
The black recesses, and the shaded aisles. 
The startled winds shall halt in dumb dismay. 
As these dread echoes meet them on their way, 
Like horrid requiems at the throne of Doom, 
The lion roaring through the haunted gloom ; 
Here jackals cry, and howling wolves o'ertake. 
The lewd hyena, and the furtive snake ; 
Satyrs shall dance, and hungry vultures hide, 
In courts of pleasure, and in halls of pride ; 
Through waste and ruin baying dogs shall creep, 
And ghostly owls a ceaseless vigil keep. 



44 ANARCHY A\D GOVERNMEXT, [Oct., 



►I 

 



• 



. i 



ANARCHY AND GOVERNMENT. 

A DISCUSSION AFTER THE MANNER OF THE ''SC/MMA" OF 

ST THOMAS. 

• 

BY W. F. C. SCHOLASTIC L'S. 

Problem. — Whether there ought to be any Political Gov- 
ernment. 



Objection /. — All creatures are impelled to actions by their 
- own desires. Hence all the acts of men result from their own 

desires and wills. But desire cannot be compelled, although 
Political Government can exert no other power than physical 
force. Hence no government is necessary. 

Objection 2, — ^The harmony of a well-ordered society arises 
from the concord of the free and voluntary acts of its citizens, 
and this harmony becomes the more perfect the less coercion is 
exercised upon their wills. Therefore, without any government 
the harmony of society will be more perfect. 

Objection j. — The only lasting order is that which arises 
from the nature of things. But it is the nature of man to 
seek to do what he pleases, to gratify his desires with the 
least exertion. Therefore the only lasting order is anarchy. 

Objection 4.. — The strength of the coherence of any material 
substance is the aggregate or total attraction of the molecules 
of that substance. Thus, the firmness of steel is due to the 
cohesion of its parts. These parts are not held together by ex- 
terior restraints. But human society is such a substance, being 
composed of so many units, and the strength of its cohesion is 
the sum of the original and free inclinations of its citizens. 
But these inclinations or desires are stronger in proportion to 
the freedom with which they may be gratified, and vice versa. 
Hence society is strong or durable in proportion to the ab- 
sence of constraint upon its members; that is, it is strong in 
proportion to the absence of government. 

Objection 5. — Jefferson said : That government is best which 
governs least. But the least government would be none at all. 

Objection 6. — All governments err in compelling men to do 



I902.] Anarchy and Government, 45 

what they ought not to do, and b}'' restraining them from doing 
what they ought to be freely permitted to do, viz.: 

(i) They forbid the free use of vacant and unoccupied 
land. 

(2) They forbid or limit the natural right of trade by tariffs, 
embargoes, exports, licenses, indirect taxes, and special privi- 
leges. 

(3) They make wars for robbery and oppression, and excite 
in the people a spurious passion of " patriotism," and expend 
vast sums to gratify the love of military display and glory. 

(4) They intermeddle with the moral obligations and private 
life of adults ; with science, education, and religion ; and yet 
are not able to define what is right or true in any matter. 

Objection 7. — Finally, Government has failed ; on all sides 
it is the dead-weight of obsolete law that represses the growing 
life of society. Man cannot make law ; law as a rule of action 
suitable to any mode of society must always vary with every 
development of society. It is impossible to anticipate the future 
modes of society, and it is tyrannical to attempt to confine in 
the iron bands of inflexible rules the growing institutions of 
civilization. Just in proportion as Government ceases to tyran- 
nize, it ceases to govern, and it is inevitable that Government 
should fail as mankind approaches intellectual and moral ma- 
turity, for free men will have no one to govern them. 

Objection 8. — Moreover, Christ said : ** The kings of the 
nations lord it over them ; but among you be it not so, but let 
him that is first among you be the servant of all and as the 
younger brother." But the servant does not seek his own will 
but the will of the person served, and the younger brother 
does the will of the elder. Hence in the perfect human society 
there should be no government. 

But on the contrary : Government is primarily that authority 
which maintains physical order by physical force. And so long 
as there is a necessity for the exercise of physical force to 
maintain physical order — that is, to secure the personal freedom 
of locomotion and the rights of property — there must be rea- 
son, justice, and co-operation, constant and universal, in the 
application of that force. For in the beginning the earth is 
the common heritage of all mankind, and it is necessary that 
all should be secured in the right of equality of access to it. 



« 



• 



46 ANARCHY AND GOVERNMENT. [Oct., 

or it ceases to be the common heritage. Hence property in 
land must be made fixed and determined : permanent improve- 
ments secured to the use and enjoyment of those who have 
erected them, continuous routes of travel laid out, bridges and 
highways constructed and repaired. In all cities provisions 
must be made for the care of the public health. All these 
necessities cannot be left to chance or the isolated and fortui- 
tous co-operation of small groups. It is necessary that there 
should be exercised the power to compel obedience in these 
( things, and to watch over the public order thus established with 

incessant care. If all men were alike good and benevolent, it 
does not follow that they would be equally intelligent; and if 
they were equally intelligent, it is not possible for them even 
to know how to maintain the order which they would desire 
without unceasing concert of action to that end. But this is 
government. 

Again, every man has the natural right to resist by force 
the invasion of his rights, and hence all men have the right to 
co-operate with each other to resist the invasion of their rights. 
But as their rights may be continuously subject to invasion, 
and are in fact so invaded, it is necessary to maintain continu- 
ously a co-operation to protect them. But this is government. 

Conclusion. — It is necessary for the enjoyment of the largest 
measure of personal liberty that in a free society there should 
be instituted a permanent authority, by the consent of the 
majority, which shall, by the exercise of physical force in 
accord with the purpose and end of civilization, maintain and 
secure : 

(d) The peaceable possession of land and private property, 
with all its incidents. 

(*) The highways and routes of travel. 

{f) The public health and public peace in those matters 
which cannot be left to personal caprice or to purely voluntary- 
association. 

To the First Objection. — It may be replied that political gov- 
ernment does not and cannot deal with the entire problem of 
life; it is its business only to protect all against the physica.1 
invasion of the right to life and property. It can restore 
property to those entitled to the use or enjoyment of it, and it 
can restrain those who by force interfere with the freedom oF 



I 



I 



I902.] Anarchy and Government. 47 

others. The fact that the acts of men result from their desires, 
and that these desires cannot be controlled by physical force, 
only evidences that the intellectual and moral (suasive) authority 
of civilization cannot be lodged in the functions of political 
government, which can act by physical force only in accord 
with the prevailing intellectual and moral order of civilization. 
Hence this objection, which anarchists urge, really arises from 
a vague perception that it is impossible for the functions of 
service to be exercised by political government, and that the 
"glory" of civilization cannot be "forcibly seized." Hence it 
is true that the highest authority of civilization does not exer- 
cise physical force in its government, yet nevertheless prescribes 
by infallible utterances the laws of God. But these laws them- 
selves threaten and inflict physical injury upon those who vio- 
late them, and all men are governed by fear of injury as well 
as hope of good, these being converse aspects of the same 
passion. It is of little concern to the public whether the per- 
son restrained concurs voluntarily in the restraint — so long as 
the restraint is in accord with natural justice — ^but it is of great 
importance that obedience result. Disputes must come to an 
end finally. 

To the Second Objection, — It may be said that the perfect 
harmony of a well-ordered society arises from the concord of 
the free and voluntary acts of those who seek justice, and 
who respect the rights of others. But those who seek justice 
will establish a just order. 

To the Third Objection, — It may be replied that it is in the 
nature of things that man cannot accomplish results except by 
acting in accord with the physical, intellectual, and moral forces. 
Obedience to the force of nature, whether of man or of lesser 
things, is the necessary condition of power, and power is 
liberty. 

To the Fourth Objection, — It may be replied that the desires 
which hold men together in a well-ordered society are desires 
for all the gifts of civilization, spiritual, intellectual, and moral. 
These can only be obtained and conferred in a manner accord- 
ing to the character of civilization, which is the co-operation of 
nature, man, and God towards the attainment of beatitude. 
Hence justice or equality of right arising from equality of 
destiny must distribute the gifts of civilization. Hence the 
keener the desires for the gifts of civilization the more prompt 



48 ANARCHY AND GOVERNMENT. [Oct., 

will be the exercise of whatever force may be necessary to 
secure equality in their distribution. 

To the Fifth Objection, — It may be said that the proverb 
attributed to Jefferson is untrue and extravagant. ** That govern- 
ment is best which best attends exclusively to the business of 
government" would be a better proverb. 

To the Sixth Objection, — It may be said that the fact that 
evils are committed by governments is not a reason why 
political government per se should be abolished ; but it is a 
reason why a more intelligent interest should be taken in 
fundamental political problems, so as to finally cause the with- 
drawal of political governments from improper courses of 
• action. But it should be conceded to .the Sixth Objection that 
in the particulars enumerated all existing governments are 
justly indicted so far as these particular offences go ; but this 
concession does not establish that all government should be 
abolished, there being valid reasons why it should be maintained 
for certain purposes. 

To the Seventh Objection, — It may be said that the authority 
of government was never so great as it is now ; never in the 
history of our civilization was the force of law so far-reaching 
and effective. Government has grown stronger with the advance 
in culture and the extension of personal freedom, and it is more 
and more necessary to the freedom, happiness, and progress of 
society just in proportion as society places a higher value upon 
its liberties. But this very growth in the direction of a more 
perfect liberty and power in the individual life has brought out 
into greater contrast many ancient practices having the sanction 
and authority of the state which are inconsistent with the ex- 
ercise of the reasonable freedom of civilized life. Hence as 
mankind approaches to intellectual and moral maturity it will 
strengthen and intensify its authority, both as a negative re- 
straining power and as an affirmative executive power. 

To the Eighth Objection. — It may be said that the words of 
; Christ do not condemn the exercise of the limited dominion of 

! political authority, for that is necessary ; but they directed the 

I attention of the Apostles, who were to be the creators of the 

;, modern civilization, to the fact that they were called to the ex- 

ercise of a higher authority than the political authority, and 
j that their rule should be exercised according to the principle of 

j service. For they who preside over the moral and intellectual 

f 



I902.] The Cynic. 49 

nature of man must rule by moral and intellectual force alone; 
they must command voluntary obedience, and no other. 

Nevertheless, even in the exercise of the mere governmental 
po.ver of physical force, those acts only are consistent with the 
spirit of civilization which serve the interests of all, and which 
do not tend to compel men to form unnatural associations. 
For political government is the watch-dog of the material goods 
of civilization ; it has no right other than as a trustee of an 
express trust, and its function is to keep guard over the equal 
rights of all to opportunity in the physical order of things. 



©HE ^YNIG. 

BY FRANCIS WAITE. 

Sj^SR ITH sneering lip and evil glance, 
i £Mh ^^^ mocking laugh, and look askance, 
L%!BI»Ml H^ says, There is no God but chance. 

All virtue he proclaims a game, — 
A bid for fortune or for fame ; 
And honesty — only just a name. 

Chastity, merely temptation 'scaped ; 
Religion, — hypocrisy, draped : 
Heaven — Hell, — myths, long craped. 

His breath breeds moral pestilence ; 
His heart throbs with malevolence : 
His only creed a vain pretence. 

He 's sold himself unto himself ; 

His God is Pleasure ; his high-priest — Pelf: 

A worm-gnawn volume on an attic shelf \ 

A walking sepulchre of dead men's bones : 

Christ's grace alone for such atones ; 

Pray for his soul! as dead as sea- washed stonesi' 

VOL. LXXVI.— 4 



Mystical Mariiagb, bv Tin 



THE MYSTICAL NUPTIALS BETWEEN OUR LORD AND 
SOME OF THE SAINTS. 



BY GEORGINA PELL CURTIS. 



THE PREPARATION. 



My he«it is soUeni-.) 1 


k^ ivax 10 rec 


ive llie impriiil uf Christ. 




an, love cries ou< lo n 


e that it lives 


in me. My bean is r.^iit : 


s Ijv a sword. Host nol 


tM, my Lord, been wo 


tided by love 


"St. Francs JAnisi. 





iN the divine revelation that the Sacred Scriptures 
and our Lord, through his church, has made to 
us, few things stand out so clear and beautiful, 
and yet so hidden and mystical, as the spiritual 
espousals between Christ and some of his choosen 
saints. Seldom considered, or else regarded merely as an 
allegory, it has nevertheless existed, closely interwoven in tKe 
life of the church. 

Multitudes do not comprehend it, others there are who 



I902.J THE MYSTICAL NUPTIALS. 



form an entirely false conception as to what it is ; while still 
others openly scoff at the idea. There are not wanting men 
who give to this spiritual manifestation a modern name, and 
tell us that the saints had hysteria; that as a matter of fact 
none of them ever saw or held converse with our Lord, but 
that when they thought they did they were the victims of dis- 
ordered nerves. 

These decUrations of later-day science need not disturb 
the Catholic ; for in relation, to this there is a point that many 
miss; and that is, that as surely as a man can be born blind, 
or lose after birth his physical sight, so surely also is it true 
that thousands never have the gift of spiritual eyesight, or else 
lose it so completely that they are utterly incapable of judging 
of the things of the spirit. Just as hereafter we will be "sown 
' a natural body, but raised a spiritual body," so are some gifted 
with the power to see into the spirit world by faith, which 
others entirely lack. 

To attain to this spiritual union the soul has to pass through 
a special training. Our Lord cannot reveal himself, or claim as 
his own, the heart that is filled with worldliness or love of self. 
There must be perfect love, perfect humility, and an utter sur- 



52 THE MYSTICAL NUPTIALS BF.TWEES [Oct., 

render of the will, before he can enter in and take possession 
of his beloved for all eternity. What takes place in the soul 
when it is ready for this mystical union ? 

Fere Grou, in Ames Inleritures, beautifully expresses it. He 
says : 

" The celestial light and peace that overwhelm us prove how 
sweet it is to give ourselves to God, and how worthless is all 
that does not belong to him, and one is detached more and 
more from creatures and from one's self. One realizes, also, 
the sacrifice God demands of us — a life of love, of self-denial, 
a total holocaust. This peace that the soul tastes at the begin- 
ning of a life of love to God is nothing in comparison to what 
comes later, as the spiritual life deepens. It is even more than 
a union ; it is trdnsformation, unity. It is the illustration of the 
adorable unity existing between the three Divine Persons. It 
was for this union that our Lord prayed before His Passion: 
'That they all may be one in me. as I am in thee,' etc., and 
also in the Apocalypse the union is spoken of in the guise of 
common intercourse: 'I will come into him and sup with him' 



The Perfect St. Cathei 



(Apoc. iv. 20). There will be a species of equality between 
this soul and mine : my table will be his, and his will be mine, 
our nourishment will be in common. God passes into his 



I902.) OUR LORD AND SOME OF THE SAINTS. 



creature, and his creature passes into him. This is what vs 
promised, even here below, to the soul that is united with 
God," 

We read in the life of St. Catherine of Siena that this 
doctrine "is not acquired but infused," and St. Catherine her- 
self, in her Dialogues, says: 

" Proud ignorance remains blind to this light because its 
eye is clouded by self-love. Such souls can never penetrate 
beyond the letter of the Scriptures ; they may read much and 
turn over many books, but the pith and marrow they never 
taste. They wonder to see the simple and illiterate possessed 
of a clearer knowledge than they of spiritual things, but there 
is nothing to wonder at in it, because these humble souls are 
illuminated by grace, which is the true source of knowledge " 
(Life of St. Catherine, p. 49). Another preparation required in 
the soul is to be tried by temptation. This takes place in 



54 The Mystical Nuptials between [Oct., 

gfreatcr or less degree ; some being subject to the most fiery 
ordeals, and others again being for a time tormented by delu- 
sions. Nothing else so purifies the heart of self, making of it 
a fit dwelling place for that espousals which is founded on per- 
fect love. 

Union with Christ is something which all holy souls who 
are striving to live the higher life may attain to; but it has | 

only been to the few that God has manifested himself by cer- i 

tain visible signs, accompanied by formalities such as are used 
in ordinary marriages. 

I 

n. , 

I 

THE CONSUMMATION. i 

** I have espoused you as a chaste virgin to Jesus Christ." — //. Cor. xi, », \ 

1 

\ 

Of the great saints who have been granted this espousals 
we may name St. Catherine of Siena, St. Veronica Guiliani, St. 
Catherine of Alexandria, St. Teresa, St. Gertrude, and St. John 
of the Cross. It was after she had passed through a long 
period of seclusion, prayer, and lasting that our Blessed Lord 
appeared to St. Catherine of Siena, and in answer to her re- 
quest that he would bestow on her perfect faith, made reply : 

'' ' Because thou hast forsaken all the vanities of the world, 
and set thy love upon me, and because thou hast for my sake 
chosen to afflict thy body with fasting rather than to eat flesh with 
others, especially at this time, when all others that dwell round 
about thee, yea, and those also that dwell in the same house 
with thee, are banqueting and making good cheer, therefore I 
am determined, this day, to keep a solemn feast with thee, and 
with great joy and pomp to espouse thy soul to me in faith.* 

** As he was yet speaking there appeared in the same place 
the most glorious Virgin Mary, Mother of God. the beloved 
disciple St. John the Evangelist. St. Paul the Apostle, and the 
great patriarch and founder of her order, St. Dominic: and 
after these came the kingly prophet and poet David, with ^ 
musical psalter in his hand, on which he played a heavenly- 
song of inestimable sweetness. 

" Then our Blessed Lady came to her and took her by the 
hand, which she held towards her divine Son, and besought 
him that he would vouchsafe to espouse her to him in faith. 
To which he consented with a very sweet and lovely counts- 



I902.] OUR LORD AND SOME OF THE SAINTS. $5 

nance, and taking out a ring that was set about with four 
precious pearls and had in the other part a marvellous rich 
diamond, he put the same on the finger of her right hand, 
saying thus: 'Behold, I here espouse thee to me, thy Maker 
and Saviour, in faith, which 
shall continue in thee from 
this time forward, evermore 
unchanged, until the time 
shall come of a blissful con- 
summation in the joys of 
heaven. Now, then, act 
courageously; thou art arm- 
ed with faith and shalt 
triumph over all thine ene- 
mies,' 

" The vis'on disappear- 
ed,but the ring, invisible in- 
deed to other eyes than 
Catherine's, remained upon 
her finger ; mysterious token 
of a favor no less mysteri- 
ous, yet one the significa- 
tion of which is not obscure 
to the student of Holy 

Scripture. If every faithful , 

soul is knit to its Creator Mystical Marriacb. bv Paolo VEkoNcse, 
by the tie of a spiritual "^ Venice. 

espousal, what must have been the closeness of that union 
which Catherine contracted when she received as her dowry 
. ' the perfection of faith ' ? That precious ring was to her 
the token of her Divine Vocation ; the pledge of an indis- 
soluble union with her Beloved" {Life of St. Catheriut, pages 
60, 61). 

Observe that Christ says he has espoused her to him " in 
faith"; for the things of the unseen world are not material 
but spiritual. This union fills the soul wiih abiding joy and 
calm, although some of the saints have been subjected to 
farther tests. St. Veronica Guiliani, after her espousals, says: 
" Oh intolerable agony of the soul, to see herself stript of 
every support, and utterly separated to a distance from its 
Sovereign Good ! . . . She calls her Spouse, but he comes 



56 THE MYSTICAL NUPTIALS BETWEEX [Oct., 

not. She seeks him ; but he flies still farther oflf. I had no 
relief but in seeing the cup approach nearer. . . . God be 
praised ! . , . For his love all is little," 

After this trial she cries out : " My God, thou knowest that 
I am thy spouse. Grant, therefore, that I may never be 
separated from thee." God did not fail to strengthen her heart 
by saying; "Fear not, thou art mine." 

It is, however, the Princess Saint, Catherine of Alexandria, 
daughter of an Egyptian king, whose mystical marriage has 
been made most familiar to us in legend and art. Endowed 
with wealth, knowledge, beauty, and noble blood, she early 
said that "she would only marry him of such noble blood that 
all the world would worship him; so great as not to be in- 
debted to her for being made a king; richer than 'any other; 
so beautiful that angels 
would desire to see 
him; and so benign 
as to forgive all of- 
fences." 

From his throne on 
high God looked down, 
and seeing the pure 
heart of this heathen 
princess, he determin- 
ed to call her to him- 
self. There soon ap- 
peared at Alexandria 
a holy hermit sent 
hither by the Virgin 
Mother of Christ to 
tell Catherine that her 
Son was the husband 
she desired. The saint- 
ly recluse showed the 
maiden a picture of 
mlhili.o's usT I'AiNTrNG. ~ °"'' I^l^^sed Lord, and 

when she gazed on 
that face, so full of deathless beauty and love, her heart 
went out to him. That night she had a strange dream. 
In spirit she seemed to be with the hermit near a sanc- 
tuary on top of a lofty mountain. As she drew nearer angels 



I902.} Our Lord and some of the Saints. 



Jacer's Paint:no in Munich. 

came to meet her, and she fell on her face ; but an angel 
said : " Stand up, our dear sister Catherine ; for thee hath the 
King of glory delighted to honor." Then she arose and fol- 
lowed the angel to a lofty room where the blessed Mother was 
surrounded by angels, saints, and martyrs, Angels presented 
Catherine, and besought the Blessed Virgin to receive her as a 
-daughter. Our holy Queen bade her welcome and led her to 
our Lord ; but he turned away, saying one thing was lacking 
to make her his bride. Then Catherine awoke, and calling the 
hermit, asked him what could make her worthy of her celestial 
bridegroom, and the hermit answered "faith." She joyfully 
received instruction from him, and, with her mother, was shortly 
after baptized. The next night the Blessed Virgin and her Son 
appeared to her, and Mary again presented her to Jesus, say- 
ing: " Lo ! she hath been baptized, and I myself have been 
her godmother." Then Christ smiled on her, and plighted his 
troth to her, and put a ring on her finger; and from that day 
the holy maiden despised all earthly things. 

Her martyrdom took place in 307, under the Emperor 
Maxtmtn. In sacred art St. Catherine has been many times 
represented espoused to our Lord. Correggio, Titian, Van Dyck, 



S8 THE MYSTICAL NUPTIALS. [Oct., 

Ambn^io Bogognone, and Cola dell' Amatrice have all made 
this mystical nuptials the subject of beaatifnl patntm^ In all 
but one our Lord is rcpreaented an a child, sometimes tn his 
modher's anm, soaetimes standing on a pedestal while her 
arms encircle him. In the painting where our Saviour is a 
grown man, he stands on one side attended by a company of 
angels, while Catherine, with a train of virgin martyrs, stands 
opposite to him. The painting by Van Dyck is especially 
charming. The Blessed Virgin holds a wreath in her hand, 
ready to crown the saint, while Catherine's expression of reverent 
adoration is very beautiful. 

What are the fruits in the soul of this intimate union and 
communication between our Lord and his chosen ones ? Greater 
love of God, a more intimate knowledge and practice of the 
spirit and mind of Christ, and a growth in his likeness. Some 
after their celestial nuptials have lived a hidden life in the 
cloister. Others,' like St. Catherine of Siena, have had to go 
forth in the world to labor and suffer. But whether in the 
stir and tumult of life, or living behind an enclosure, always 
and at all times the souls thus called keep close to the Heavenly 
Bridegroom by means of mental and vocal prayer, through an 
ardent and sensible love for their spouse; and finally, above all, 
through the Divine Eucharist — that Sacrament the meeting place 
between the soul and Christ, and which gives us here on earth 
the nearest approach to perfect union in heaven. 



I902.] The Anarchist? 59 




THE ANARCHIST? 

BY JOHN A. FOOTE. 

|HREE sharp, piercing blasts came from the whistle 
of the shaft-house and reverberated through the 
silent, snow-covered valley. It was an inky- 
dark night, cold with a biting keenness, and few 
of the miners had left their cabins and their 
comparatively comfortable firesides. But even while the whistle 
was still sounding its hoarse warning, lights glimmered in the 
neighborhood of the black building that covered the shaft, ex- 
cited men with lanterns moved here and there, shouting to 
each other; and out in the village the light from many an 
opened door made ruddy patches on the snow. A few minutes 
later, and black groups of people, some bearing blazing mine- 
lamps on their hats, swarmed up the steep hill toward the 
scene of the disturbance. In a little while after the warning 
had sounded a crowd of several hundred men and women had 
gathered outside of the shaft-house, curious, excited, all asking 
questions, and no one being able to reply. 

The one man who knew the cause of the warning was Jif- 
kins, the mine foreman. He stood in the little office building 
near the fan-house, with his ear glued to the telephone receiver, 
pale as a ghost, his hair dishevelled, and his black eyes gleam- 
ing with suppressed excitement. 

** Hello \ " he said. " Give me J. C. Coughlan, of the 
Coughlan Coal Company. For God's sake hurry ! Hello I Is 
that Mr. Coughlan ? This is Jifkins ! There has been an acci- 
dent at the mine. Fans were running only half speed on ac- 
count of strike. Harry, your son, came over this afternoon and 
went down this evening without my knowledge. Some of the 
chambers had gas in them, and — well, there was an explosion 
and the inside of the shaft is on fire. Hello! Yes, sir! We 
will do our best ; have courage! Good-byl" He almost threw 
the receiver into its receptacle and dashed from the room. 
There was work for him to do. Meanwhile the crowd outside 
had grown to a mob of several hundred people. At intervals 



6o THE ANARCHIST? [Oct., 

vast volumes of pungent smoke shot up from the mouth of the 
pit, acrid and irritating with the odor of oil* soaked wood. 
Willing hands manned the huge hose which was brought out to 
flush the shaft, and a dozen sturdy arms pointed it down the 
black cavity. There was a babel of shouted suggestions as to 
what should be done ; the crowd packed closer and * closer 
around the shaft-building, and all seemed confusion. Suddenly 
out of the tumult rose a clear, shrill voice: 

" Men, we must have order here ! Push the crowd back, 
you in front ; we must have room to work, and we must have [ 

silence ! Let me give the orders. Now, everybody : bring 
around that other hose ! There, that *s it ! Now, down with 
it ! Good ! " 

It was Jifkins, the superintendent. His pale, steadfast face 
and commanding voice seemed to exercise a remarkable influ- 
ence over the crowd. The men worked with a new energy; 
out of confusion came order. Gradually the smoke became less 
dense, and Jifkins, noting every change, at last gave the signal 
to have the water shut off. The fire bad been extinguished. 

At almost the same moment a commotion, arose in the rear ! 

of the crowd. A carriage drawn by a team of steaming horses 
drove up, and a man and a woman alighted. Instinctively the ^ 

people pressed back and made way for them. 

" It 's Coughlan and his wife ! " was whispered from mouth 
to mouth. Formerly they had been accustomed to mention 
Coughlan*s name only with execration — Coughlan, the man who 
had forced them time and again to remain idle in order that 
coal prices might not fall from over-production; Coughlan, the 
man whose satrap bosses had practically made slaves of them. 
His wife — they knew little concerning her; that she was Cough- 
lan*s wife was sufficient. 

Jifkins met the mine-owner and his wife in front of the 
shaft-house, and a hurried colloquy ensued. 

** There is hope," said the superintendent ; '* but some one 
must go down in the shaft immediately. The smoke renders 
the attempt very dangerous, but we may get volunteers. My 
lungs won't stand it, or I 'd go myself. We need a strong 
man, and a true man." 

The flabby face of the mine- owner was crimson with excite- 
ment and nervous tension. His wife was softly weeping on his 
shoulder, and looked up as the superintendent ceased speaking. 



I902.] The Anarchist? 6i 

** Thank you, Jifkins," she said. ** We need — O God ! how 
we need a friend now — strong and true. James, can we ask 
these people to make such a sacrifice for us ? " 

Coughlan bowed his head. " Don't ! *' he whispered. " Don't 
talk that way now ! Be brave ! I *11 offer a reward ; we '11 find 
a way ! " The woman began to sob aloud, and clung to him 
more closely. 

In the meantime somebody had lighted a bundle of oil- 
s >aked cotton waste, placed in the fork of a near-by tree. As 
it blazed up the red glare, reflected by the snow, threw into 
relief the eager faces of the crowd, pressing now in increased 
numbers around the shaft- house, and the anxious little group 
in the centre of the circle. Behind showed the mountain, bleak 
and desolate, covered with blackened tree-stumps, with here 
and there a scraggy pine standing in dismal misery all alone. 
Around the radius of the circle the powdery snow glittered like 
a shower of diamond dust. 

Coughlan, as if nerved with a new determination, released 
his wife's hands from his neck, placed an arm around her waist, 
and, facing the assemblage, raised his hand to command silence. 

'/* Men ! " he said, in a voice trembling with emotion, " my 
son is down in that burning shaft, and some one must brave 
danger to find him, and to rescue him. We hope that he 's 
alive; but alive or dead, I am determined to help him. He is 
my only son, and he is dear to me. So listen now. I am an 
old man, and I call on you to do, not an act of justice but an 
act of heroism. I myself will go down into the shaft to find 
my son ; I ask for only one voluntieer to accompany me. Who 
will be my companion ? He will be rewarded ! " 

The crowd was silent for a moment. Then several men at- 
tempted to go forward. There were many brave hearts there ; 
but their wives or their sweethearts pulled them back. Why 
should they give their lives to this man ? They were as dear 
to their kindred as his son was to him. They were sorry in- 
deed, but they had given him everything else; why should he 
now demand their lives ? 

** Is there ho one to volunteer ? " cried Jifkins, searching the 
faces of the crowd. ** Then, men — " He paused. A burly, 
bewhiskered giant, wearing a red flannel shirt, open at the 
collar to display his brawny, hairy chest, was pressing to the 
front. His slouch hat was pulled far over his forehead, and his 



62 The Anarchist? [Oct, 

eyes glared from under their bushy brows with a gleam like a 
mad bear's. He reached the centre of the group, and for a 
moment confronted the mine- owner in silence. 

" The Anarchist ! " the crowd exclaimed in wonder. During 
the past two weeks of idleness the man had been given this 
title, however unmerited, on account of his fiery speeches against 
capital. He was counted one of the most desperate men, and 
the hardest drinker in town. Whether his nationality was Ger- ! 
man, Polish, or Slavonic no one could tell — he spoke all these 
languages indifferently well; but that he was a fanatic, with all 
of the fanatic's love of admiration, was admitted by all. i 

His burly frame towered over the stooped figure of the ! 
mine-owner, and there was an exultant ring in his voice when | 
he began to speak. 

" Master Coughlan," he said, " you haf coom to beg of the 
beggars; you haf asked us to go to maybe death to save your 
son. One little week ago we come to you ; we ask you for 
work. You say to us when we come, that you cannot afford 
to let us work. You tell us that, remember! You say you 
cannot afford — and you heard him, my people, — you cannot | 
afford to keep the starve away from us. Huh ! " There was ) 

biting sarcasm in the man's tones, and the mine- owner was in- 
furiated. He glared at his accuser, and attempted to step for- 
ward ; but the *' Anarchist " made a warning gesture with one 
hand, and with the other pointed toward the shaft. 

''You can talk later; now it is our time! Master Coughlan, 
you haf asked us to keep your son from death — you who 
would not risk the price of a loaf of bread to keep us alife ! 
And what do we answer ? Listen, then ! " He paused for a 
brief instant. "What do we say to you, the heartless man ? 
We say * Yes ! ' We say we will help you ; not because you 
are rich, or because of money, but to show you that riches haf 
not the power to buy courage or friends. We say no man is 
rich or poor in the bresence of death, and so we say : * Here is 
Alex. Birchoff — a poor man, an ignorant man — and he will go 
down in the mine and face death for you — alone — all alone ! 
You shall not go ; you are too old. Have I spoken well, my 
people ? " 

There was a cheer from the crowd, and the orator's eyes 
glittered with pleasure. The mine- owner, forgetful of all save 
that his son was to be rescued, tried to grasp Birchoff's hand. 



1002.1 The Anarchist? 63 

" I will pay you well ! " he repeated over and over again. 

Birchoff seemed not to notice him. ** Don't bother me now," 
he said. ** We will talk if I come back. Good-by, friends ! " he 
cried, and he stepped on the " carriage " ready to be lowered 
five hundred feet into the earth. His clothes were wetted and 
a damp sponge was placed over his nose. Then the bell clanked, 
and the carriage sank down, suddenly and noiselessly, into the 
tomb- like darkness. 

Then ensued tense moments of waiting that seemed hours. 
Suddenly the bell again clanked, the signal to ''hoist." The cable 
became taut, and there was a buzz of conversation, followed by 
a strange silence. Somewhere in the crowd a woman sobbed 
hysterically, and now all eyes were strained to see the uprising 
" carriage.!' 

When at last it came to view a dozen volunteers rushed 
forward to help the returned men. Birchoff, as erect as a 
soldier, stood on the platform supporting in his arms the un- 
conscious form of Henry Coughlan. Those who would assist 
him he waved back with a stern brusqueness. Blackened and 
burnt with the subterranean flames, his hair and beard singed 
to a crisp, there was yet a certain nobility in his mien as he 
walked erect with his burden and laid it at Coughlan's feet. 

Mrs. Coughlan took her son's head in her lap and kissed 
his pale and smoke- grimed face with rapture. 

** Thank God ! thank God ! " she exclaimed, " he is not 
dead ! Heaven will bless you for this noble act ! " And then, 
bending over her son, she smoothed his hair, matted with the 
singeing blaze, and wept with mingled joy and sympathy. 

"My man — " began the mine- owner, but Birchoff inter- 
rupted him with an imperious gesture. 

" It is a bresent," he said — " a holiday bresent, to you and 
to her — from the beople. We haf given you the life of your 
son ; we only ask that you give to us a little work — ^a little 
bread — a little — we ask — " 

He swayed and fell like a log. his fingers clutching at the 
feathery snow, and he muttered weakly : " It is a bresent — a 
little work — for the beople ! " 



GERMA.X life JN town ASD COISTRY. [Oc 



GERMAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY. 

BY REV. P. FARRKLLY. 

^ILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON'S volume > 
modern Germany is descriptive of the li: 
manners, and customs of its people, and is ve 
readable. It is the second in the series of pu 
lications by the same author on modern cou 
tries to appear, but it is vastly different in spirit from the o 
written on France by Hannah Lynch. The author kA the wc 
on France gave expression to the prejudices which she imbib 
in a biased English atmosphere; prejudices which have be 
handed down in English nurseries and ministerial circles I 
many scores of years. 

Mr. Dawson has approached his task with broader views a 
is entirely more equitable in his treatment of his subject. 1 
does not set up English customs and manners as the criteri 
by which everything is to be judged. Necessarily he canr 
wholly divest himself of his English views, but these are ma 
subservient to a thorough knowledge of his subject, which 
long residence in Germany has enabled him to acquire. Abe 
all, the absence of religious rancor is conspicuous; this m: 
perhaps, be due to the fact that Germany is classed as a Fn 
estant country. At all events this is a pleasing feature of t 
work, for nothing is more nauseating to fair-minded read 
than to Rnd authors making comments on the effect that l 
religion professed by a people has on their moral or matct 
success, when it is evident the writer is not speaking from p' 
sonal convictions, but is merely voicing the dictum of othe 
Surely Mr. Dawson avoids all such blunders, it may even s 
pear to some that he sins by leaning too nuch to the otl 
side. 



Germany plays a prominent role in the events of the peri( 
and yet withal comparatively little is known about it; it is son 
what of a sealed book. The German Empire formed after the Fn 



I902.] German Life in Town and Country, 65 

co-Prussian War is composed of twenty-five states ; Prussia is the 
principal one, primus inter pares. The real power belongs to 
the representative council of the federal governments (the 
Bundesrath) and to . the elected assembly of the empire (the 
Reichstag). Between these two it is divided — one being a coun- 
terpoise of the other. Prussia, because of its size, sends the 
larger number of representatives ; Prussia is the backbone of 
the empire There is a romantic story which relates how good 
old Henry the Fowler, as Carlyle styles him, took one thou- 
sand years ago the patch of sand between the. Elbe and the 
Havel from the Wends, which finally became the basis of the 
German Empire. In 141 5 this territory was given by Sigis- 
mund to Frederick IV., Burgrave of Nuremberg, a member of 
the Swabian family of HohenzoUern. When greater Germany 
was formed, in 187 1, Prussia did not absorb the other states, 
but left to them a certain amount of autonomy. Each state 
enjoys a distinct individuality ; for although there is a general 
cohesion and pride of empire, yet in travelling through Bavaria, 
Saxony, Wurtemberg one. cannot fail to be impressed with the 
state consciousness as opposed to the empire consciousness. The 
deep affection shown for the ** Landesvatcr'* is evident. The 
fortunes and interests of the governing house, however lowly its 
place in the rank of potentates, means infinitely more to them 
than the grandeur of the imperial fabric or the splendor of the 
imperial name. Notwithstanding this, the permanency of the 
empire is the innate desire of all. Disputes have arisen be- 
tween the empire and the federal states, but have been easily 
adjusted. The wonder is there have not been more of them. 

LOVE OF EMPIRE. 

All the states are loyal to the empire because they have en- 
joyed great prosperity since the union. Professor Rudolph von 
Geist said, just before his death : '' Discontent with the course 
of public affairs is the natural condition of the German, varied 
only by rare episodes of patriotic enthusiasm." There is some 
truth in this, but it. is more the result of newspaper talk than 
anything else. The journalist is apt to magnify his profession 
and position; but as years roll on the Cassandras of the press 
do not mean what they say. Greater latitude of expression 
and action is allowed in the criticism of men and affairs in 
Germany than is commonly supposed. The Socialists even are 

VOL. LXXVI. — 5 



66 German Life in Town and Country, [0( 

permitted to pay reverent tribute, in the form of ribbon, wrea 
and oration, to the memory of the insurrectionists of i8 
The German, stolid and phlegmatic, may be permitted great h 
tude ; for in the long run he will remain faithful to his traditio 
the best instincts of good government and the general weal. 
Bismarck said in his speech of retirement to his fellow- Prussia 
'' We Prussians, we Bavarians, we Saxons, we are Germa 
and we remain so; we must study Germany's interests. CI 
fast to the imperial idea, even in the Prussian Diet. Do 
forget that you are citizens of an empire, have duties towa 
the Empire and its Confederates. I beg you not to pursu 
Brandenburg or a Prussian national policy, but a German 
perial policy.'* This idea has made greater Germany ; it 
permeates all classes. Germany still desires to extend 
frontiers. There is a Pan- German Atlas (AUdeutscher Ati 
published, which places the limits of the German frontier at 
extremities of the lands inhabited by German stock — Aust 
Tyrol, Holland, Flanders. This corresponds with the proph 
uttered in one of Ernest Moritz Arndt's fervent songs, that C 
many would one day be the whole country speaking Gern 
The same is the hope and fond expectation of most of 
Germans of the Fatherland to-day. 

ERA OF MATERIAL PROSPERITY. 

The Germans are suffering from overweening vanity du< 
their great success, which is almost phenomenal. Still there 
many Germans out of sympathy with the spirit of this real 
age and the present material spirit of Germany. Trained 
the school of the idealists, these latter prefer to live in 
poetry of the past; would barter all the millionnaires of ( 
many for the brain and soul of another Fichte ; all its w 
shops for a Schiller. But these idealists form a small sc 
to-day; material prosperity appeals to the multitude. The 
perial government promotes industry and commerce to sup 
the army and keep the people at home. Modern progress 
made Germany a land of millionnaires in marks, has transfer 
the quiet, peaceful life of a generation ago into a life of hi 
bustle, and scramble for gain ; and this not only in the cap 
but in the smaller towns. The historical, archaeological 
turesqueness of other times has disappeared before this 
invader. There is still a mediaeval Germany which defiei 



I902.] German Life in Town and Country. 67 

this. The meistersinger, the cunning craftsman whose produc- 
tions in wood, in glass, in enduring metals, both precious and 
base, and decorative work, are so wonderful, are to be found in 
Nuremberg, Brunswick, and Augsburg. In many of the other 
towns the' Neustadt and Altstadt are to be found side by side ; the 
centuries of the Fuggers, of Durer, of Hans Sachs are preserved 
side by side with the products of the present century. In many 
a town the effect of this change is very marked ; the grassy mar- 
ket-place has disappeared, the low-eaved houses are replaced by 
those of more modern appearance. 

WHAT THE NOBILITY IS. 

Because of the intrusion of the possessors of weajth into 
society great jealousy exists. Caste, not wealth, had been the 
door of * entrance into society heretofore ; the former is ex- 
tremely envious of the rough intrusions of the latter. Incomes 
are not large viewed from our standard. Although Parliament 
decreed half a century ago that titles should be for ever 
abolished, nobility is still held in undiminished esteem. The 
democrat, even the socialist to a degree, loves his lord. There 
is what is known as the high and the low nobility. At the be- 
ginning of the past century, when the "Roman Empire of the 
German nation " was dissolved, many of the petty rulers were 
deprived of their independence and became " mediatized." They 
still belong to the high nobility (der hohe Adel), are exempted 
from military service, are members of the first chamber of the 
national legislature, of equal birth with the reigning families. 
The inferior nobility (der niedere Adel) was identical with 
knighthood, comprising those who received knightly rank from 
the emperor or their own princes. This nobility is now graded 
into counts, barons (Freiherren), and knights. There is a dis- 
tinction between what is known as the " personal nobility " and 
the hereditary nobility. Where titles are not enjoyed the coupling 
of " von " generally supplies the want. They are very proud 
of this bit of nobility, as Goethe — himself von Goethe by crea- 
tion — said. To claim nobility in the lower order it is only neces- 
sary that the father be of certain rank, but in case of high 
nobility there must be pure blood on both sides. Elevation to 
nobility is awarded as a mark of distinction to privy councillors, 
real privy councillors, famous painters or scientists. The names of 
Hermann Helmholz, Abraham Werner, and Werner Siemens are 



68 German Life in Town and Country, [Oct 

contemporary examples. Great importance is attached to title 
orders, degrees, etc., among the Germans. I wonder if any c 
them feel as Castlereagh wittily said, to be without any distinc 
tion, " This is also a distinction." The Germans, particularly th 
women, are very punctilious in exacting the full use of their titles 
so much so that great offence is frequently given by the oixiissioi 
of the full use of official titles.' Because of the number of the uni 
versities, the facilities afforded for frequenting them, the officiah 
are generally well educated, and in consequence of the numbei 
of these officials an educated circle is to be found even in the 
small towns; a circle somewhat different from anything^ we 
have. The army social circle is by all odds too narrow. The 
legal or medical man must prove his worth before he claims 
position; this is because all the professions are supervised b>' 
the state. The doctor is not free to make his charges ; his 
clients make them for him and send them to him New Year's 
day with their compliments, and so both live apart for a year; 
but the fees offered must be proportionate to the services 
rendered by the Hausarzt. Great confidence is reposed in the 
family physician, because he is the product of the state univer- 
sity. There is no room for quacks ; they are not even tolerated. 
Generally speaking literature is not remuneratively paid, though, 
as with ourselves, light literature, novels, and plays pay best. 
A lady but slightly known is addressed as Gnadiges Frau, 
Gnadiges Fraulein. Interchange of name is usually accepted as 
an introduction, instead of waiting for one, and thus many dis- 
agreeable moments are avoided. The old Christian forms of 
salutation are disappearing, except in the very Catholic portions 
of the empire ; but the weather is rarely if ever used as a greet- 
ing or salutation. 

CUSTOMS AMONG THE POOR. 

Side by side with the nobleman the workman {Arbeiter) is 
living in a low scale, is poorly paid and badly housed; he has 
little if any chance of improvement. In the cities rent is 
high and the accommodations scant ; whole families live in 
two rooms, living, cooking, and sleeping ; often one room serves 
for alL At times even^ in large cities, numbers of families live 
together in large barracks. Housing, too, in the farming dis- 
tricts is insufficient, but is undergoing a much-needed improve- 
ment. Latterly, many of the large employers, like the Krupps, 



1902.] German Life in Town and Country. 69 

have built model villages for their employees. Much still re- 
mains to be done in this line. 

The Germans are known to be great beer- drinkers, though 
there is very little drunkenness; but even this is increasing in 
later years since brandy (Schnapps) is much more freely imbibed 
than formerly, especially in the northern provinces of Prussia. 
Too much money is spent in beer. The working classes spend 
the greater part of the Sunday in the beer-gardens. The scene 
is very convivial-looking and wholly different from anything 
seen in English-speaking countries. It is no unusual thing to 
see the members of a family, father and mother, sons and 
daughters, seated around the same table, sipping out of the 
same mug. The young men bring their girls to these gardens, 
each couple often drinking out of the same stein. The dancing 
saloons, which are becoming common, are a source of immorality. 
I do not mean the more respectable ones, but the average 
haunts where delicacy and chastity in man and woman suffer 
irreparably. 

INDUSTRIAL LIFE. 

The development of the modern industrial customs is fast 
affecting the German family. In the days of the handicrafts the 
boys were dependent on their parents until they acquired steady 
habits; whereas to-day boys become practically independent at 
an early age on what they are able to earn in the factories. 
So it happens the Socialists are able to swell their ranks 
with the young and unthinking. The girls, too, suffer from the 
same causes ; but a strong effort is made to counteract these 
evil tendencies by giving more attention to domestic economy 
in the elementary schools. Free circulating libraries are also 
used to instruct the rising generations. Though the cities are 
growing enormously, the Germans still cling tenaciously to the 
soil. Even those who go to the towns remain landsmen to the 
end of their days, read the village paper every week, go back 
to their natal village to die. A country wedding in the home 
of a well-to-do farmer is a great event. At a particular one in 
the Weser the following preparations were made for the feast: 
1 fat sow, 7 pigs, 17 calves, 220 hens, 200 loaves and cakes, 
370 gallons of beer. The laborers are dissatisfied with the 
wages the farmer offers them and flee to the cities. The em- 
ployment system differs in the different countries. The manorial 



70 German Life in Town and Country. [O^^t 

system prevails east of the Elbe, in northern Germany, West- 
phalia, and Saxony. Besides working for wages on a large 
farm, the peasant laborer tills a small plot for himself. The 
mutual respect and regard which existed between employer and 
employee is fast disappearing; the common use of the ex- 
pressions Gesinde for employer and Leute for laborer is proof 
of this. The feeling that they are regarded and treated with 
contempt by those for whom they work weighs heavily on the 
rural population. " You should not fear me ; you should love 
me," said Frederick the Great to two Jews whom he was 
thrashing. The old feudal relations still exist in some places. 

THE SCHOOL LIFE OF THE COUNTRY. 

It is almost universally felt that the army has made Germany ; 
the army consequently is respected. Military service is obliga- 
tory; but it is not as difficult to escape military service as is 
commonly supposed. Sole bread-winners are excused, as are also 
all those tainted with slight physical blemishes. The general 
staff directs all military matters ; its efficiency is universally 
acknowledged. Germany is fully as much a land of public 
education as it is of militarism. It is very common to picture 
the German pedagogue with spectacles on his nose, a ferule 
hanging by his side. Besides the three R's, they teach grammar, 
geography, history, religion, geometry, drawing, singing, sew- 
ing, drill, and gymnastics. In some schools the natural sciences, 
chemistry, and stenography are taught. The schools are mostly 
confessional — that is, they represent the religion of the scholars 
attending them ; but there are also mixed schools. The re- 
ligious question in the schools exists here as elsewhere, the 
effect of the liberalism, nationalism, and materialism of the day. 
According to the Prussian common law — Landreckt — religious 
training must form part of the schooling. The old cbmmon law 
states that "children who are to be brought up in a different 
religion from that of the elementary school they attend must not 
be compelled to receive the religious instructipn of that school.'* 
Under such ministers as Falk and von Gossler the children of 
dissident parents were exempted from religious teaching, on 
promise of supplying it. In 1892 Minister von SidlTtz introduced 
a new reservation, making religious teaching dependent on 
adequate proof of its being supplied elsewhere. His successor. 
Dr. Bosse, followed in the same line, ingeniously holding that 



I902.] German Life in Town and Country. 71 

the conscience of parents could not be offended at their children 
receiving religious instruction, as .such instruction was a matter 
between the school and the child alone. The law did not 
recognize freedom of conscience on the part of school boys and 
girls; for if it did, the schools might be closed. The efficiency 
of the schools depends, in a great measure, on the thorough 
training of the teachers, though their salaries are generally in«- 
adequate. Free baths are commonly introduced into the schools. 
A free lunch is supplied the children of the poorer parents in 
winter, and a free doctor in most of the cities. There are seven 
grades between the elementary school and the university. The 
G3rninasium is the first door to the highest possibilities of state 
service and professional promotion; then there is the Pro- 
gymnasium, which lacks the highest form of the former; the 
Realgymnasium retains Latin, drops Greek, devotes more time 
to the modern languages ; the Realprog^mnasium does not 
carry the pupils as far as the preceding. The Oberschule and 
Realschule dispense with Latin and Greek, pay much attention 
to the living languages and commercial education. The higher 
Burgher schools are the bottom step of the ladder, and are of 
a purely mercantile character. The Gymnasium has forged 
ahead of all the others. Often its well-educated students have to 
wait long for the positions for which they have trained, not 
being good for anything else. A reaction, has set in, in favor 
of the modern school. The saying of the emperor was received 
with acclamation, when he said, a few years ago, '' We do not^ 
want to make Greeks and Romans, but Germans.'' Poor students 
are well cared for in the schools of Germany. All classes are 
well represented at the universities, although class and caste 
distinctions are rigorously maintained. There is no college life, 
because there are few if any internes. It is generally admitted 
that the thorough character of German education has immeasur- 
ably contributed to German success in later years, in every 
walk — science, discovery, geography, commerce, and the arts. 
But many a well-educated man has to wait a long time before 
being able to get a decent position. This state of affairs has 
swelled the army of ** Privatdoceten," who are willing to accept 
any position while waiting for an opening in their specialty. 
Here is a sample of an advertisement for one of these teachers : 
" He must be a doctor, and have passed his examinations suc- 
cessfully; compensation, free board and lodging." A wag 



*« 



72 German Life in Town and Country. [Oct, 

added: *'Will this private teacher be required to know music 
English, French, ventriloquism, and be able to play croquet ? ' 

THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. 

Germany is commonly classed as a Protestant nation, al 
though all religions are endowed by the state. Germany i 
far from being as irreligious as is commonly believed on the out 
side. The writings of a few atheists and the Kulturkampf (th 
echoes of which have not yet completely died out) have ha 
most to do with spreading this somewhat erroneous impressioi 
A strong religious feeling exists abroad in the land, and ev< 
those who profess to have cast off religion observe the festiva 
of the church. Christmas is. the national festival. Its celebr 
tion begins Christmas Eve, known as Hiliget Abend ; all gath 
round the Christmas-tree, embellished and bedecked with ligt 
and all sorts of toys, and the presents intended for the differe 
ifiembers of the family. Even the departed are not forgottc 
Passion week, Stille Woche or Charwocke^ is the principal churc 
going season. Todtenfest^ our All Souls, is well kept; pub 
atnusements are legally forbidden on this day and Good Frid s 
The Germans have more respect for religion than the Protestai 
of this country ; even the professed unbelievers and freethink 
greatly respect religion, the very class that boasts it follows l 
proverb, Thue retht und scheme nieinand ! — Do right; fear 
one. German Protestantism is almost just as Luther left it,- 
protest against Rome. German ' rationalism is different f r 
that of other countries, in that, it is not so irreligious. . Rati< 
alism is rife in the Gymnasia and the universities; the nai 
of Hegel, Strauss, Bauer, Ritschl, and Hase are commonly 
pealed to. There is a rationalism in the pulpit. How . did ; 
like the sermon ? Very well, but he cannot be a belie 
Why ? Because the church was full. The Germans are c; 
cal ; theirs is the classic land of metaphysical speculation 
unfettered scientific investigation. 

CATHOLICISM AND SOCIALISM. 

The Catholics of Germany form a little more than one-t 
of the population of the empire. They gave proof of iait 
constancy, unflinching devotion to duty and loyalty to t 
church, during the severe strain to which they were subje 
while the Kulturkampf hung over their heads. Their exai 



I902.] German Life in town and Country. 73 

of. unswerving loyalty is a shining lesson for all of us» espe- 
cially for their kith and: kin, in this land. The absence of 
worldly allurements and emoluments prevents the scions of 
wealth and nobility from finding an attraction in the clerical 
calling, whose forces are recruited from the sons of the poorer 
classes — a fortuitous coincidence, as they are better able to en- 
dure hardships and rebuffs. 

Much has been written about German Socialism in recent 

r 

years. Socialism is the religion of the average German work- 
ingman who adopts it, and for him it involves not merely the 
a^lvocacy of a new industrial order, but it is in his eyes the 
subversion of the present political, economic, and' religious sys- 
tems. Many of these refuse to take an oath, because of their 
unwillingness to say " So help me God ! " The Socialism of 
the laboring classes in Germany gives them an estimate of life 
and religion which cripples morality, makes it well-nigh impossi- 
ble. Its science is taken from Biichner, Haeckel, and Darwin; 
its philosophy from Schopenhauer, Feuerbach, and Hartmann ; 
Strauss and Bruno Bauer are its theological leaders. The hostility 
of Socialism, under such leaders, to jthe church is easily under- 
stood ;. but worse still, it has robbed the working classes of all 
respect for religion, all recognition of divine laws. Is it be- 
cause of the spread of these opinions that suicide is so common 
in Germany ? It may have something to do with it. The 
prevalence of suicide in Saxony remains unexplaihable. Some 
say it is due to the peculiar temperament, the result of the 
blending of Wendish with the German element, Wendishism being 
inclined to self-extermination. Some allege other reasons, such 
as excessive militarism, which is .scarcely conclusive; others 
again attribute it to poverty ; but perhaps the best reason is 
the predominancy of materialistic views. This is the direct result 
of the Protestant view of life which is now being entertained by so 
many. Some few years ago a picture was placed on exhibition 
which only a German could paint, Lebens Mude — ^Tired of Life. 
This picture represented two figures, a youth and a maiden, in 
the act of throwing themselves from a jetty into a lake. The 
expression on their faces reflected the emotions which the event 
occasioned. The attitude of the lovers was severely ** naturalis- 
tic.** To a non-German mind the picture was ludicrous, inas- 
much as all pathos was destroyed by the fact that the girl's 
hat was a conspicuous triumph of the milliner's art, and the rope 



74 GERMAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Oct.. 

used was prosaically new. Crowds studied and lingered before 
this picture while it was on exhibition ; and the scene was soon 

\ realized in a near by lake. Sense of honor, weariness of life; 

i and, in the case of women, remorse and shame are determining 

) factors of suicides. 



WOMEN AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 



German women do not enjoy the freedom or disttoction of 
their sisters in other countries. This was very annoying to the 
\ late Princess Frederick when she went to live in Germany as 

crown princess* Her proud spirit revolted at what she con- 
sidered the abject condition of German women. She earnestly 
set to work to ameliorate their condition; but was poorly 
seconded, nay, even was opposed, by the very women whom 
she strove to uplift. Thanks to her efforts, and other causes 
chiefly educational, there is an improvement in this line. 
The German woman makes a good housewife; she is usually 
to be seen with a bunch of keys hanging at her waist Sau- 
sage is the staple food prepared by the rich and sauerkraut 
by the poor. Tuchtigkeit (thoroughness and efRciency) is fully 
applicable to the German woman; she is self-sacrificing and 
wholly devoted to her work. Women in the lower grades of 
society have to work too hard; are employed very frequently 
in occupations which are both uncongenial and unbecoming, 
such as mowing, ploughing, digging, carrying the hod, carrying^ 
manure in baskets, dragging a hand- cart by the aid of a dog^ 
or alone. Women must not meddle in politics. The houses 
are usually well heated. Mark Twain humorously describes his 
first impression on seeing one of those large porcelain stoves 
commonly used for heating ; he felt, he tells us, as if he was in 
front of a family heirloom. The Germans prepare plain, simple 
food, which is usually served five times daily: a cup of coffee 
in the morning ; luncheon of sandwiches and sausages with beer 
about eleven o'clock ; the dinner is usually served with soup, 
hot dishes, vegetables, and fruit, but no sweets or pies; coffee 
again about four P. M. ; then later supper, which is more sub- 
stantial, consisting of cold meats and salads. The mistress of 
the house usually has the dishes carved at a side table, which 
she then hands round to those seated at table until it comes 
back to her again. These housewives have difficulties with their 
servants, as seems to be the fashion in all countries. 



I902.] German Life in Town and Country. 75 

The Berliner born and bred considers himself superior to all 
other Germans; he is fond of pleasure and amusement. The 
cafe plays a prominent part in his social life; it is clean and 
well kept; no profanity is indulged in there. Ladies may and 
do frequent it. The Berliner considers he is not as phlegmatic 
as the rest of his countrymen ; frequents the theatre more, but 
is scarcely as fond of out-door sports. The Germans have 
always frequented the home baths in the season ; in later years, 
having acquired more prosperity, they show a disposition to 
travel, and are met with in numbers in Switzerland, the Tyrol 
and Italy, Sweden and Norway, in the season. Berlin is con- 
sidered the best governed city in the world. 

THE ELECTORAL SYSTEM. 

Though the Germans are ruled by an autocratic dynasty, 
they are allowed great freedom of speech at election times, if 
not at other times. " My people and I," said Frederick the 
Great, ''have come to the mutually satisfactory agreement that 
they are to say what they please and I am to do what I 
please." German politics are complicated. Second elections 
are a peculiarity of German politics. The Ufwahler are first 
chosen, who in turn elect the Wahlmanner. Elections must be 
held until one of the candidates gets an absolute majority. 
Necessarily the existence of so many quasi- independent states 
affects more or less the general politics of the nation, because 
the people of each state are mostly ruled and affected by their 
own particular state. However, government and bureaucratic 
influence is felt in every direction. Thfs is hurtful ; it stifles 
public spirit, it has injected a strong tinge of unmanly forbear- 
ance and dependence in civil life. The paralyzing effects of 
'State patronage reach out in all directions. The prevailing idea 
is that the state is responsible for everybody's welfare, and 
what the state does not do cannot be done profitably at all. 
Undue respect is consequently paid to "officialdom." Many of 
the lower officials are inordinately inflated and pretentious, and 
even the deferential Germans are compelled to show them at 
times that their patience may be too far trifled with. A strong 
mutual dislike exists between the police and the common peo- 
ple. The police are entirely too meddlesome and autocratic. 
Even strangers who have passed through Germany can bear 
testimony to this; tourists passing through the country, if they 



76 GERMAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COVSTKY. [Oct 

happen to remain a few days in a hotel, are compelled to give 
a satisfactory account of themselves.  

Newspapers, it is said, reflect the status of the people they 
serve. The newspapers are what the people want, what the 
people make them. In Germany the papers have not a tithe 
of the influeoce wielded by leading journals in other lands; 
this too reflects the conditions existing there, inasmuch as it 
shows the wave of imperialism which sweeps over the country. 
Th€ police watch th<r newspapers very closely ; confiscate or 
suppress a whole issue for trivial causes at times. The editor 
must send the first copy of each issue to the censor. The 
newspapers are not well written ; but special contributions on 
the arts or sciences are usually well polished. The newspapers 
deal too freely in gossip and trivialities. There is a general 
provincialism about the German press — even the largest journals 
of Berlin. The notices uf births, deaths, and marriages read 
very comical to our mind, " A  manager of an old institutionr 
of pleasant exterior, seeks a pretty, presentable lady (widow), 
very strong, weight 75 to 85 kilogrammes, but of fine figure, 
as hielpmate." 



TWO NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS. 

BY JOHN C. BBOGAN. 

1HE closing years of the eighteenth century and 
the first decade of the nineteenth witnessed the 
advent in the United States of a class of Irish 
exiles different in some respects from the 
emigrants who begun to settle among us in such 
overwhelming numbers a generation later. They were often of 
gentle birth and rearing, sometimes even belonging to the hated 
landlord aristocracy ; but they were also men of singularly pure 
aspirations and disinterested patriotism. Many of them had 
wrecked their fortunes in the bloody convulsions of '98 or in 
Emmet's ill starred venture, and, after encountering perils of 
every sort, during which their footsteps were rarely out of touch 
with the headsman's shadow behind them, they managed to 
escape from the ruined island. Others reached our shores a 
short time before the explosion, and others a few years after 



78 Two NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS. [Oct., 






Emmet's gallant effort had failed. They all won honor in the 
land of their adoption, and played no unimportant part in the 
social and economic activities of the infant Republic. Their 
high-bred grace and courtliness had, besides, the effect of creat- 
ing a certain standard of refinement and elegance among the 
somewhat rough village communities that were destined to de- 
velop into mighty cities. While, unhappily, in some of the 
families they founded their descendants have degenerated from 

:. the noble ancestral type, in others the traditions of unspotted 

and reverent devotion to faith and country, pride in their race 
and a loving interest in the fortunes of the home of their fore- 
fathers, have remained bright and. vigorous. 

In none of these Irish emigrants have the finest qualities of 

) the national character been more vitally embodied than in two 

young brothers whose names are still well remembered in 
Central and Western New York, and familiar to the older genera- 
tions of Catholics in many parts of New England. John Corish 
Devereux and his brother Nicholas contributed immensely to 
the progress of Utica; their energy, public spirit, and com- 
mercial ability were weighty factors among the agencies which 
transformed the little town into a great centre of industry. 
But they did more than help to found a city. Their pres- 
ence was a tower of strength to the struggling Catholics of the 
district. Their fervid enthusiasm combined with their practical 
and lavishly generous service was a priceless boon to religion. 
How, in their case, heart and brain and open purse might 
always be relied on when needed for the creation of any noble 
institution or the accomplishment of any noble purpose will be 
seen in the course of this narrative. 

If to have sprung from a grand old race can confer any 
distinction in so democratic a land as ours, — and apparently it 
does, else why haye we Sons and Daughters of the Revolution, 
Colonial Dames, and many other societies whose members 
are wildly eager to convince a sceptical world that they had 
grandfathers ? — if such be the case, the Devereuxs may feel a 
not unnatural complacency in their high descent, which has at 
least the merit of being genuine. The first of them to come to 
England was Walter, feudal lord of Evereux, whence his name, 
Walter d'Evereux. The old Norman town still exists; but, un- 
like its rulers, not having expanded through the ages, has 
squeezed its name into Evreux. Walter proved himself a 



1902.] Two NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS, 79. 

doughty champion, spurred by William's side at Hastings, and 
was not more backward than another in following 

"The good old plan, 
That they should take who have the power. 
And they should keep who can." 

Walter did not feel any scruple in taking at least his fair 
share of the sixty thousand manors into which the Conqueror 
divided unfortunate England ; and with it his due portion of 
Anglo-Saxon serfs, adscripti gleb<E — a month ago freemen, now 
slaves to be kicked and lashed by their French masters for 
centuries afterwards. The degrading irfluence of the Norman 
Conquest is still prevalent, for the wealthiest British merchant 
will tell you with bated breath and whispering humbleness that 
So-and-so's, ancestor "came over with the Conqueror." 

How the Devereuxs waxed fat in the fertile lands they had 
wrested from the helpless natives, how they intermarried with 
royalty and grew to be famous statesmen and captains, how they 
helped to build cathedrals and founded abbeys and monasteries, 
need not be told here. A stout, fierce race, these French free- 
booters, doing with all their might whatever their mind set 
their hands to do, whether it were good or evil. They help 
Cardinal Langton to tear the charter which, many centuries 
later, was to form the basis of English liberty from the tena* 
cious grip of John, are foremost among the rebellious barons 
who try to reduce Henry III. to the condition of a royal 
figure-head, and one of them is slain at the battle of Evesham 
in 1265; then, when they cannot find an outlet for their super- 
abundant vitality in forays through France under the royal 
banner, they are making it hot for royalty in Parliament, or 
hammering the Welshmen on their borders. 

The first of the Devereuxs to seek his fortune in Ireland 
came in the train of John in 12 10. This Thomas Devereux, 
the fourth son of a Sir Walter Devereux, received large grants 
of lands in the district which had just been formed into the 
county of Wexford, and was the ancestor of the numerous 
Devereuxs still to be found in Wexford and the neighboring 
counties. It did not take long to make good Irishmen of his 
sons and grandsons. There must, after all, have been something 
strangely seductive in this Irish civilization to have melted these 
iron Norman barons and made them entirely undistinguishable 



\ 



80 Tpvo Notable Utica Pioxeers. - [Oct., 

from the Celtic chiefs around them a few years after they were 
settled iii the country. The " Celtic witchery " English writers 
have called it. It was a witchery which the Anglo Saxons 
never succeeded in practising on their French masters. Even 
1 as late as Edward III., who, like all these French kings of 

England, could not speak English, it was not unusual for a 
nobleman to protest against a dishonoring accusation in some 
such words as " Only an Englishman would be capable of 

« 

such a deed.*'* 

So the Devereuxs ranged themselves quickly alongside of 

the De Burgos^ and Fitzgeralds, intermarried with the daughters 

of the native chiefs, cultivated mustaches, rode bareback, sent 

their children out to fosterage, and became Hibemis ipsis Hiber- 

^ niores. They no doubt had their full share in the unhappy 

conflicts of the time — now in alliance with Celtic chief or Nor- 
man baron, now at bitter feud with one or the other. Yet 
under all their barbarous turbulence lay seeds which were to 
blossom into the flower of a higher life centuries later. They 
built churches and abbeys, and the foundations of a monastery 
erected by Sir John Devereux at Ross, Wexford, in 1290, may 
still be traced. A Devereux was Bishop of Kildare in the 
rei^n of Mary, and, after a stubborn resistance, was driven by 
Elizabeth from his see in 1560. 

Throughout all the vicissitudes of wars, rebellions, and re- 
ligious persecutions the ancestors of our American Devereuxs 
managed somehow or other to retain their hold on a consider- 
able slice of Wexford down to a comparatively recent period. 
Their father, Thomas, was the owner of an extensive and 
beiutiful estate called "The Leap," a few miles from Ennis- 
corthy, in the closing years of the eighteenth century. It is a 
picturesque and lovely region, sprinkled with farms and modest 
homesteads, with wide reaches of verdure dyed in that intense 
green to be found nowhere outside Ireland, with ponds that 
flash in the sunlight, and softly wooded glens and hollows. 

Although there were many of the survivors of the old 

* Lord Macaulay, who is sometimes capable of tHling the truth, especially if the truth be 
susceptible of a picturesque setting, says that it is as laughablf for I'.nglishinen :o pride then)- 
sehes on the victories of Cressy and Poitiers as it would be for iln* nrgroes of Hayti to fiiagup 
their caps on account of the French victory at Fontenoy because Hayti was then a French 
colony. There were small English, Welsh, and Irish contingents at these battles; but the 
bulk of Edward's army was made up of Frenchmen who rt^garded I'duard .is their lawful kin^. 
which he would seem to have been by hereditary right. 



I902.] Tpvo Notable Utica Pioneers, 8i 

Catholic aristocracy still in the county, the Devereuxs appear 
to have been willingly accepted as leaders in the political 
movements of the time. We are told in Hay's History of the 
Rebellion that at meetings of the Catholic gentry in 1792, as- 
sembled to protest against aspersions on their loyalty and to 
demand their rights, James Edward Devereux presided. He was 
selected in the following year by his co-religionists to voice 
their admiration for ** the virtuous and independent 45 " — forty- 
five Protestant gentlemen who had aroused the hostility of their 
fellow- Protestants of Wexford by the stand they took in favor 
of Catholic emancipation. 

As for John Corish's father and elder brothers, they threw 
themselves heart and soul into the '98 movement. One of the 
brothers was slain at Vinegar Hill ; another, noted for his 
height and manly beauty even among a stalwart and hand- 
some race, managed to escape in a vessel bound for Martinique, 
but was never heard of afterward. The father, flung into prison, 
did not survive long the cruelties inflicted on him by his 
English jailers. A letter to John from his mother, written about 
a year afterward, gives us some slight idea of the misery of 
the distressful land : 

"Leap, 14th Feb., 1800. 
" My Dear John : 

"I receiv'd yours of Oct. and Nov., which is the only com- 
fort I have, to know that you are alive and doing well. I 
wrote to you a long letter last July, letting you know all my 
troubles since the Rebellion, which is your father's death, and 
James's departure from the Battle of Ross. I never got an ac- 
count where he is since, but am still in hopes he is alive. 
Walter came from Dublin the above unfortunate time, was 
obliged to go off. He took shipping for Martinique from Liver- 
pool, hired as carpenter's mate, so am left quite helpless with 
the three little boys and Margaret and Catharine. We remain 
here, but do not know how long it may be a place of resi- 
dence, as the country is much disturbed by some unknown 
people that are robing and burning every night. Our chappels 
are burning and tearing down. Poor Mary and Frank lost their 
all in the Rebellion ; they have no children. This country is 
almost done away; our Parliament is going to England; if we 
don't get some relief the Catholics can't live here. So, my 
dear child, I intend going to you in the course of two years 

VOL. LXXVI. — 6 



82 TWO NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS. [Oct, 

if we don't get some change for the better. I should prepare 
to go now only on account of the Distress the country is in I 
could not dispose of land, &c.y to my satisfaction. I wrote to 
you in my last to come home, which I will leave to your 
better judgment. As you complain of not hearing from Ireland 
shall this day write two letters, one to be forwarded by Mr. 
Frank Codd, the other by your Uncle Nick, who is in a very 
low way and who met with various troubles. The children 
join me in wishing you Every Blessing. I remain your afft. 
Mother, CATHARINE DEVEREUX. 

"To Mr. John Corish Devereux, to be left at Postoffice, 
New York, till called for." 

Probably it was a prevision of the avalanche of misfortunes 
that was to overwhelm the family which induced the parents of 
John Corish, who was born at The Leap, August 5, 1774, to 
send him to France some years before the outbreak. There he 
became a proficient in music and dancing, accomplishments he 
was afterward to turn to good account in another land. 

He came to the United States about a year or so before 
the beginning of the Irish struggle, and at once advertised 
himself in several New England towns as a "dancing- master." 
Unlike the members of his class in Ireland, this young Irish 
aristocrat had no false pride about him. What shame was 
there in a Devereux doing in free America what the Mont- 
morencys and Cregins were doing in remote English hamlets 
at this very period ? He had soon plenty of pupils, and looked 
back fondly in his old age on the humble and honest occupa- 
tion which had started him on his prosperous career : " I 
danced a thousand dollars out of the Yankees," the old man 
used to repeat, gayly. 

After a couple of years* residence in Albany, where he was 
clerk in a store, and where he married his first wife. Miss 
Ellen Barry, he moved to Utica in 1802. There, with the 
money he had accumulated, he set up in business for himself, 
selling the miscellaneous articles of groceries, dry goods and 
wet goods, to be found in those days in country stores. His 
shrewdness and honesty were crowned with success, and he be- 
came one of the wealthiest and most respected of Utica's citir 
zens. He built a large and, for those days, somewhat imposing^ 
house, which is still standing on the north-east corner of Broad 



I902.] Tivo Notable Utica Pioneers. 



The First Catholic Church in L'tica— Old St. John's. 

and Second Streets. There was as yet no Catholic church in 
Ucica, and whenever a missionary priest happened to enter the 
village Mass was said in Mr. Devereux's residence in the 
presence of the members of the family and the few CathoHcs 
of the neighborhood. On Sundays, in the absence of a priest, 
it was his custom to read appropriate prayers and a sermou for 
the Catholics who assembled in his parlor, and this undoubtedly 
did much to keep alive the faith in many an Irish heart. He 
also taught the children their catechism, inducing them to come 
regularly to Sunday-school by treating them to gingerbread 
and milk. Simplicity is the basis of all noble living, and the 
sagacity and keen intelligence which were among his most 
salient characteristics were grounded on a grand and gracious 
simplicity of nature. Ever lavish in his generosity to the 
church and to the poor, he was especially liberal to old St. 
John's, the pioneer church in Utica and Central New York, at 
one time clearing off a debt with a check for $7,000. He 
and his brother Nicholas also personally undertook to give a 
site and erect a suitable building for an orphanage school, to 
be in charge of the Sisters of Charity from Emmilsburg, Mary- 
land, and in 1834 each subscribed $5,000 to this noble charity. 



84 TlVO NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS. [Oct., 

earning for themselves the lasting gratitude of the sisters and 
the prayers of the orphans, to whose support John C. Devereux 
was ever afterwards such a constant contributor that he was 
regarded as the real founder of the institution and was buried 
within its walls. 

But neither race nor creed could set any barrier to the 
large beneficence of this noble pair of brothers ; many a strug- 
gling Protestant church was also helped along by their gener- 
osity. They probably thought that in those days any and 
every church was a godsend to a village and should be wel- 
comed by all law-abiding citizens. 

To prove the high regard entertained for John C. Devereux 
by his fellow- citizens of all denominations, it is only necessary 
to state that they were anxious to honor him with every public 
position of trust and responsibility that it was within their 
power to bestow. He was their first elected mayor, and the 
first president of the Utica branch of the United States Bank. 
His generous and truly Irish hospitality, his courtly manners 
and distinguished bearing, and the general sense entertained of 
his great capacity as a man of affairs, were all factors that 
contributed to make him probably the most popular official 
that has ever been connected with Utica. Dr. M. M.>'Bagg, 
in his interesting work on The Pioneers of Utica^ becomes 
almost lyrical in his enthusiastic admiration for the virtues of 
this distinguished Irish- Ametican and of his brother Nicholas. 

Nicholas Devereux, the youngest son of Thomas and Catha- 
rine Corish Devereux, was born at the old seat of the family 
on June 7, 1791. He landed at New York in 1806, when he 
was just entering his sixteenth year. A touching incident that 
occurred the first Sunday after his arrival was in itself a reve- 
lation of the lad's fervent faith and Irish generosity. All his 
worldly wealth consisted of three sovereigns, one of which he 
placed on the collection plate while attending Mass in old St. 
Peter's, Barclay Street. The sexton thought the boy had made 
a mistake and returned him the gold- piece. ** It is not a mis- 
^[ take," said young Nicholas; ** it is a thank- ofFering for my safe 

voyage to America." 

Perhaps it was because of this gold sovereign given in 
charity that God subsequently blessed with such material pros- 
perity the career of the fine, open-hearted Wexford boy. But 
there is nothing wonderful in this ingenuous exhibition of sim- 



I902.] TlVO NOTABJLE UTICA PIONEERS. 85 

pie trust in God, for he was the product of one of those Irish 
homes the domestic purity and sanctity of which would be 
almost incomprehensible to those swallowed up in the rush and 
hurry of our American life. 

During the few years which Nicholas spent as a^ clerk in 
Albany and in his brother's store in Utica he developed such 
splendid business qualifications that he was admitted a partner 
into the firm conducted by John Corish. The Devereux brothers 
prospered rapidly, and amassed what was for those days a very 
large fortune, doing a business of $100,000 yearly. Like his 
eldest brother, Nicholas was invited to accept responsible pub- 
lic positions. Both of their names are found among the direc- 
tors of great public enterprises. They were both equally popu- 
lar with all classes and creeds of their fellow-citizens, and made 
ample returns for the public favor they enjoyed in the shape 
of the benefits they were instrumental in procuring for the 
growing city. To their initiative was due the creation of the 
Utica Savings- Bank, now one of the most important institutions 
in the United States, and of which John C. Devereux was the 
first president, and Nicholas one of the first directors. 

We wish we had space for a full account of Nicholas's 
courtship and marriage. It forms a charming and delicate little 
idyl. The young lady, an Episcopalian, was the daughter of 
Dr. Benjamin Butler, of 27 Wall Street. How Nicholas wooed 
and won her from the suspicious parent who wants to know 
" who and what " this young man is who *' pays more particular 
attention than a common visitor," that " I may regulate myself 
in case of his repeating his visits " ; and who, when he dis- 
covers that this ardent young Irishman has just the qualities 
desirable in a prospective son-in-law, will have no silly dawdling 
about the business — " Mary takes N. Devereux, for better or 
worse, on Friday next. She will start for Utica by Saturday's 
steamboat " — may all be read in the doctor's faded handwriting, 
and very pleasant reading these old letters of his make. 
Evidently, the old gentleman was one of those imperious fathers 
whose despotism roust seem delightful to an impatient bride- 
groom when exercised on the proper occasion. So Nicholas 
Devereux and Mary Dolbear Butler were duly wedded. Bishop 
Connolly tying the nuptial knot at Dr. Butler's residence on 
November 28, 181 7. 

This love-match between a Catholic Irishman and a Protest- 



*% 



86 TlVO NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS. [Oct, 

ant New York lady of New England ancestry was fraught with 
ineffable happiness to b^ide and bridegroom, for they remained 
lovers till the close of their lives. 

We regret exceedingly that the limits of our space prevent 
us from quoting in full some of the exquisitely beautiful letters 
which Mrs. Devereux was in the habit of writing to her rela- 
tives after her marriage. They are full of little touches which 
paint the society of the period to the life, contain some charm- 
ing descriptions of old-fashioned ways and bygone times, and, 
in this latter regard, have also a certain historical interest. The 
letters of the husband during his occasional absences from home 
are, in their own way, fully as fascinating. They are fairly 
quivering with life and passion informed by profound and 
genuine religious sentiment. " I never had so much anxiety to 
see home before," he says in one of them, " for, my dear Mary, 
my heart's blood is concentrated on you and my dear little 
children. May God protect and guard you." 

Mrs. Devereux remained a devout Episcopalian for many 
years after her marriage. In 1846 the light broke in upon her, 
and she hurried to meet it If it be true that it takes a good 
Protestant to make a good Catholic, then Mrs. Devereux's 
future life fully realized the truth of the old saying. There 
have been few more fervent converts. From the day of her 
conversion till her death, at the age of eighty-six, in Utica in 
1 88 1, her life was the life of a saint, and she was for many years 
a member of the Third Order of St. Francis. She was a zealous 
co-operator in the innumerable enterprises undertaken for the 
public good by her husband, and the leader in all organized 
works of charity and benevolence. Moreover, as one of the 
prominent society leaders of the State, a lady of magnificent 
presence and courtly manners, it was her pleasure to entertain 
in her hospitable home a great number of distinguished per- 
sonages of the old world as well as of the new. She was a 
woman also of brilliant accomplishments, a great reader, easy 
and agreeable in conversation ; in a word, one of those rare ideal 
women who see life as a whole and perform all its duties faith- 
fully and well until the end. 

Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Devereux had six children — two sons 
and four daughters — who grew up to maturity, and five of 
whom survived their parents. 

Like his wife, Mr. Devereux also took great pleasure in the 



I902.] TlVO NOTABLE UTICA PIONEERS. 



society and enjoyments of his family and friends, and was him- 
self a fine conversationalist. His large mansion in Chancellor 
Square, surrounded by an extensive old-fashioned garden, is still 
remembered by numbers of people as the scene of many a 
hospitable and elegant entertainment. For over seventy years 
it has been in the family, and is now occupied by Mr. Dever- 
eux's eldest daughter, Mrs. Francis Keman. It is a spot to 
which his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and the children of 
bis great-grandchildren make frequent pilgrimages. 

A few words with regard to the personal appearance and 
personal characteristics of Nicholas Devereux will not be out of 
place. He was a handsome old gentleman, who retained the 
auburn hair and fine complexion of his Irish ancestors. He 
also retained a little of their warmth of temper and impulsive- 
ness. But when anything occurred calculated to be trying to a 
hasty disposition, it was his custom to retire into the cellar 
under his store, and pray. Only after he had recovered his 
equanimity did he return to the upper world. He was very 
dainty in his habits, as was perhaps to be expected from the 



88 Tivo Notable Utica Pioneers. [Oct, 

associations of his youth; was very fond of fine linen, ruffled 
shirts, and good clothes, which was perhaps also natural for the 
same reason. Of two things he was especially proud, namely, 
that he was a Catholic and an Irishman. He was no respecter 
i of persons, said grace when dining in strange hotels, and 

blessed himself with a large sign of the cross. Perhaps it was 
these characteristics that contributed to his popularity among 
his non- Catholic fellow- citizens. The genuine American is too 
manly not to pay honor to sincerity and decorous self-respect, 
and there is probably no being in the world for whom he feels 
such contempt as for the Catholic or Irishman who is too 
cowardly to show his colors. 

In 1854 Mr. and Mrs. Devereux visited Europe accom- 
panied by their daughter Mary, who intended becoming a nun. 
They were received in audience by Pius IX. Miss Devereux, 
who became a Sister of Mercy on her return, died at Newburg, 
July 8, 1887, from the effects of a terrible accident. Her life 
was so singularly holy that jihe is regarded by many as a 
saint. 

During his stay at Rome, Mr. Devereux persuaded a num- 
ber of Franciscan Fathers of the brown habit to follow him to 
the United States, paying all their expenses, promising to give 
them land in Western New York, and to aid them in erect- 
ing a monastery. He made them a grant of a farm of three 
hundred acres, and left them $5,ocx) in his will. The fine 
seminary and college which the Franciscans have at Allegany, 
N. Y., are the fruits of his generosity. They hold his memory 
in grateful remembrance, and have erected a public testimonial 
; to him in their church as the founder of their seminary and 

college. A large oil painting hangs from the walls of the 
sanctuary, representing Nicholas Devereux and his wife in the 
attitude of prayer. 

Another great work which he did not live to see accom- 
plished, but which was entirely due to his initiative, was the 
founding of the American College at Rome. He authorized the 
editor of the Freeman's Joui'tial to state that he wished to be 
one of a hundred Catholics who should subscribe $1,000 each 
for this purpose. This would be a beginning ; he was con- 
fident that half a million could be raised afterward, not 
only to establish the college, but to create an endowment 
fund for its support. It is hardly necessary to say that his 



I902.] Tivo Notable Utica Pioneers. 89 

wishes were carried out by his widow and children after his 
death. 

Nicholas Devereux's influence in extending Catholicity was 
felt beyond the limits of New York. Such was the stupid 
fanaticism of the Protestants of Hartford in Know-nothing times 
that the Catholics found it impossible to secure a site for the 
erection of a church. By mere accident he became acquainted 
with the situation, and by the exercise of considerable tact and 
diplomacy he managed to purchase the old Episcopal church 
for $10,000, which be forthwith handed over to the Hartford 
Catholics. In a tetter written by the Right Rev. Thomas Gal- 
berry, Bishop of Hartford, many years afterward, he says : 
" That good act of Mr. Devereux was the planting of the grain 
of mustard-seed in Hartford, and in Connecticut I may say 
also." 

But to give details of all the noble deeds of this great 
Catholic and great Irishman would take up a volume. Those 
who may desire a fuller knowledge of them are referred to the 
excellent work of Dr. Bagg, already mentioned, for an eloquent 
and appreciative account of them from a Protestant source. 

Nicholas Devereux died in his sixty^fifth year, on Decem- 
ber 29, 1855, fortified by the holy sacraments of that Catholic 
Church which he had loved so well and served so faithfully ; 
like his distinguished brother, an illustrious example of what 
great things a fervid love for the Catholic faith, supported by 
energy, industry, and honor, will enable men to achieve in our 
glorious Republic. 



30Y6B ^OSSEIiYN, SlNNBJ^. 

BY MARY SARSFIELD GILHORE. 

Part II. — Continued. 

IN THE RAPIDS OF YOUTH. 

CHAPTER XV. 
THE SIN OF HIS YOUTH. 

IOYCE, in the meantime, was striding homewards 
with head down and hands deeply pocketed, ob- 
livious to the lures of a great city by ntght, 
which solicited him at every step. The beflow- 
ered, brilliantly- lighted "residences of the rich 
yielded little by little to the promiscuous settlements adjoining 
the business quarter. Then the glitter and rush of Market 
Street challenged his youth and love of pleasure, while side- 
streets lurked near, full of lurid enticements; but he walked on 
as blindly as a somnambulist. His usually mobile face was 
tense, his blue eyes looked baffled, as if he groped through 
darkness. A sense of blankness, of the hollowness of every- 
thing, overwhelmed him. The firm ground of his life seemed 
to slip beneath his feet: its social rock to crumble to sand. 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce JosselfTi, bom and broughl up unidit all Ihe nurowing nrstralnis of New England 
t>rm-me. conceiTet the idea o( goine to college. His father Hiram conilderx IhX college vu 
tntpnrlMl lor [he latu af the rich And that no son of his should waste his vouth In coUeire. and if 

nfan- 

... _ ..le lecalcitiant Jojrce, 

, and leaving home. Cbaptet 

tit. introduces Mand; Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In Ihe first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the Taiiout per- 
Moalities who make theii home in Carnithdale, the manor-house ol Centreville, and there 1« 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencemenl Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for Ihe first time since his own graduation. Dr. Caslleton, the president, 
awakens Into Ihe spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandv Johnson, by common eon- 
it their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts Ihe offer tendered to him to 



be lub-edilor on a Western paper, and in Ihis capacity, t 

- ^ -- "■- -' -[eiicWest. 

. „ _ fievf lakes place, iL _ _. . 

in of the world enters his life. On the jotimey to the West Joyce lias a long talk with Ray- 



enters Ihe vigorous, bustling Lfe of the energetic West. AI the moment of his departure he 
" " ' and a significant interview lakes place, in which the influence of a wo- 



mond. In which Ihe latter gives his views on various mailers, and stati-s Ihe terms on which h 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Joyce sends an esubprani telegram to his mother, 
Joyce enters social life and lakes part in a ball at the Golden Gale Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
inn at Inland Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
'n life. After Raymond s death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pentllng 
lenl of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Piamfr, has 
a stormy inlerview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to snil for F.urope ; Joyce, fall- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pionnr. Stephen proposes lo Uladf s. 
Joyce meets with the great templation. Pearl Ripley, a Gaiety Girl, cnien into his life. 



I902.] Joyce Joss el yn, Sinner. 91 

" They are — going to Europe," he told himself, boyishly, by 
way of explanation of the throb in his throat. ''Mam'selle 
and Stephen, and — Mrs. Raymond — and — Gladys ! All are go^ 
ing,—a///" 

He collided with a pedestrian, and looked up unintelligently. 
The rakish laugh of one of his club friends aroused him. He 
was a gay young fellow — Dick Dawson by name — already 
started on the pace that kills. His father was one of the rich 
men of California. His down-grade was paved with gold. 

**Well met, old man!" he exclaimed. "We've a jag on 
for to-night, in the Chinese quarter! I say, what's the row? 
You look down in the mouth. A dopy night of it 's just your 
bracer ! " 

Already Joyce had had his nights of initiation, and knew 
" the ropes " of local excess. The atmosphere of San Francisco 
is stimulating socially as well as naturally ; and its dashing 
youth of the gilded class live at appallingly high-pressure. 
But Joyce's feverish instincts were counterbalanced by his Cel- 
tic purity and Puritan calmness. From the shallows of revelry 
he had stepped back to sane pleasure. The depths had no hold 
upon him. 

"No, Dick," he said, lifting his hat and passing his hand 
across his eyes like one bewildered. "Thanks awfully, but you 
Western boys are too much for me. Don't paint the town red ! 
By-by ! " 

Even as he turned aside, Dick was already forgotten. His 
train of thought resumed its interrupted course. A// were go- 
ing to Europe, — Mam'selle and Stephen, — Mrs. Raymond, — and 
Gladys ! Yes, the throb in his throat was for — all ! 

But since the throb was becoming an aching sob, it be- 
hooved his pride to remind itself that he mourned not only these, 
but also the dear two from whom death divided him. How 
few months previously Raymond had been his prop and main- 
stay, — Mina's warm young love, even if not little Mina herself, 
a vital charm, a social challenge, a human magnet! Yes, it 
was only because Raymond and Mina were dead that the de- 
fault of the living now startled and depressed him ! His loss 
was collective, — in this was its bitterness! Therefore he must 
reconcile himself to it, — individually. This was philosophy, and 
logic ! 

Mam'selle! Dear, gentle Mam'selle, w:th the heart of a 



'J 



» 

• i 

? > 



92 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Oct, 

mother in the spiritual order, — ^a gentlewoman of ideal refine- 
ment, of stately reserve, of sensitive delicacy ; whose mere 
presence softened the rough edges of his social side, reproach- 
ing his crudeness and arousing the chivalry of his masculine 
nature. In her sorrow for Mina she had appealed doubly to 
his reverence and tenderness. Just to look at her, to speak to 
I her, was an ethical education, — an inspiration to soul and heart, 

as well as to gentle manners! Greuze- faced Mam'selle, — ^how 
he should miss her ! Yes, the throb in his throat was for — 
Mam'selle ! 

Stephen/ After Father Martin and Raymond, Stephen had 
been his ideal of manhood. Even at college, his alumnus-fame 
had awed Joyce; and later, Stephen had conquered at sight 
His unselfish, tireless service of Mina, — his able devotion to 
Raymond's interests, — his own independent yet subordinated am- 
bitions, — his social savotr faire ennobled by his exceptionally 
earnest life and reproachless habits, — his dignified courtesy to 
his cousin Imogen, who constantly tried his pride and patience, 
— his fine delicacy with Gladys, which was but the reflection of 
his chivalrous ideals and moral rectitude, — even his simple 
friendliness to Joyce himself, had evoked Joyce's hero-worship! 
-? When Stephen was gone, to whom should he live up? His 

club friends were dashing and reckless "good livers"; the boys 
'A on the staff, though clean-lived, ambitious, industrious young 

W fellows, lacked the principles and conservatism he had admired 

and reverenced in Stephen. Would his single strength stand 
against Dick Dawson and his kind? The throb in his throat 
i was for himself, — as well as for Stephen ! 

I Mrs, Raymond ! Joyce slowed in his walk, as his thoughts 

I reached Imogen. ** Queen Imogen," he had sometimes called 

I her, in secret ; and it was as a lost queen, rather than as an 

I absent woman, that he believed his heart missed her anticipa- 

tively. Her real effect upon him, the sentiments she aroused 
in him, he had never analyzed. In her presence he was con- 
scious only of a vague unrest, an undefined desire, which he had 
flattered himself was manly ambition, dashed with the poet's 
" divine discontent ! *' She had made much of him, made little 
of him ; distinguished him, ignored him ; allured him, and re- 
pulsed him, — until she had set his mind in a whirl. But in any 
mood, she was still his empress, — his beautiful, brilliant lady of high 
degree, who had opened her gates to him as a social wayfarer. 



 I 



. > 



k * 






1902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 93 

and commanded his life-long fealty. Her imperiousness thrilled^ 
even as her fickle favor bewildered him. The loss of such a 
fascinating social force from his life must necessarily leave a 
desolate vacuum. He would be heartless, ungrateful, if his 
throat had not throbbed ! But its sob^ — was not that for Gladys 
only ? 

Yet at Gladys' mere name he curbed his thoughts. Gladys, 
even as Mina had prophesied, was not for him, but for Stephen 
to think of ! Fair, fine Gladys ! He was glad — of course he 
was glad — ^that it was as it was, between her and Stephen ! 
Good and strong man, pure and tender woman, — surely these 
were destined for each other ! For him the girl Gladys Brode- 
rick never really had lived at all; but merely flitted across his 
life like a visible angel, — slow-winged and gracious, yet in- 
tangible, elusive, — a vision only, — even though a vision incar- 
nate ! 

Was the sob in his throat, — which was but the vibration of 
the sob in his heart, — the birth-pang of Joyce's self-knowledge? 
In any case, a first glimmer, — just the far, faint, apocalyptic 
glimmer of truth,— dawned upon him. 

Mina, dear and sweet and tender as her memory was to 
him, had been but a little alien, a fugitive usurper in his heart, 
whose true love- dreams palpitated between Mrs. Raymond and 
Gladys, like a bird between rose and bud ! Soon, both human 
flowers would be transplanted : even as tender little Mina, — 
love's forerunner, — had departed. His world was laid waste, — 
his youth was desolated. Nothing sweet, nothing beautiful, was 
left him ! 

With eyes blurred and throat pulsing, he dashed into the 
elevator running up to his newly-leased chambers. From mod- 
est accommodations in the house of a motherly Irishwoman 
with whom Raymond had placed him with an eye to his .all- 
round well-being, — he had changed to a more pretentious suite 
in a somewhat bohemian quarter, throbbing like a vagrant vein 
from the artery of the city. Here, bachelor- apartments and 
studios of the Muses abounded. A reception-room transformed 
by books and desk into a library, which also served as a 
dining-room when the public cafe lost its attractions, — a bed- 
room with bath- extension, — and the tiniest yet most convenient 
of pantries equipped for gas-stove and chafing-dish experiments, 
represented the suite which, up to this hour, had seemed to 



94 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Oct, 

Joyce supremely satisfying. But now, for the first time, he 
realized its mockery as a home, its human loneliness, its forlorn 
lack of the social and domestic element Upon his entrance, 
both the porter at the door and the boy in the elevator had 
addressed him apologetically ; but as be stared at them both 
in uncomprehending silence, they had exchanged behind his 
back an uncharitable wink, and relinquished him to his destiny. 
As the iron grating clanked behind him, over-shrilled by the 
boy's audaciously significant whistle, Joyce found himseif won- 
dering what had been said to him ? But the indifferent thought 
passed, for a blessed inspiration had rushed upon him. He 
would write to his mother, and invite her West for a visit I A 
letter, a check, — and love would be on its way to him I He 
would tell her that her boy was — lonely ! 

As his key rattled in the lock he remarked, without sur- 
prise, that the library door was already ajar. The engineer had 
a pass-key, and o{ten adjusted the radiators. Undoubtedly he 
was in the room now. But no, it was in darkness ! Probably 
he had forgotten to turn' the key behind him. Pressing on the 
lights, he sank into his desk-chair just beneath the electric 
bulbs branching, rose-like, from one decorative corner; and 
tossing off his hat, bowed his face on his arms. Yes, a visit 
from his mother would do both her and him worlds of goodl 
Even the expectation of welcoming her would stand between 
him and Dick Dawson and his kind, — till his life's new condi- 
tions were assimilated. 

A rippling laugh mocked his thought He glanced up with 
a start, his waking dreams still in his eyes. In his eyes ? 
Nay, in his brain, in his heart, in every young, pulsing vein of 
him ! Dreaming ? Of course he was dreaming '. 

Outlined against the background of the closed door was a 
girlish figure in an attitude he recognized, — head jauntily 
tilted, hands on hips, toe and heel alternately poising her lis- 
som, restless young body. Her chic automobile travelling-coat 
was open and thrown back, displaying a gray tweed suit with 
mannish shirt front, and tie with long ends dangling loosely. 
Her mottled gray eyes flashed him a contagious laugh ; her 
ruddy brown hair fluffed forward from under her dashing hat; 
her red mouth pouted towards him ; her artful dimples, like 
alluring coquettes, danced into full view, then retreated. 

"Well, Mr. Joyce Josselyn," she said, "I must say you're 



1902.] Joyce Josselvn, Sinner.. 95 

cool about meeting your friends all the way from Wyoming! 
I took a cabby to the Pioneer, first thing; and then drove 
right here; so I 've been waiting just horrid hours ! The crank 
downstairs did n't want to let me in ; but I told him I was 
your sister and your cousin and your aunt from the East, and 
the alUround relationship squelched him ! " 

He had risen slowly, inch by inch, his palms pressed down 
heavily against his desk. His blue eyes, — still fixed incredu- 
lously upon her glowing young face, — were a battle-ground of 
dread and desire. He realized that his lips were parched and 
stiff, his tones unnaturally harsh, as he answered. 

" Pearl," he said, — ** this is no place for you. Go, — for your 
own sake, — go ! " 

She took a saucily defiant step towards him. Her coat had 
deep pockets, and her hands were now in them ; which, with the 
toss of her head and her careless pose, gave her the look of a 
handsome boy. 

" Go ? Well, I guess not, after waiting all these hours, — 
not till I 've had a word with you ! You 're not tied to the 
apron-strings of any maiden-aunts, are you, that you're afraid 
to give a young lady-friend a chair ? " 

She seated herself, and regarded him curiously. The as- 
sumed boldness of her face was redeemed and made piquant by 
the real shyness blushing through it. 

" Sit down and make yourself comfortable," she suggested ; 
"for I 've lots and lots to tell you ! You 're a swell when 
you're at home, aren't you? Well, /'m a swell, too, you see; 
so you need n't be one bit ashamed of me ! Why don't you 
ask me how I raised the latest styles, — at the junction, — on 
the Wyoming prairie ? " 

Her ringing young voice had a minor note in it. Her 
bright face clouded, while her dimples deepened tremulously, 
She drew a long pin from her hat, and sat before him bare- 
headed, prodding the crown with the glittering gilt spike to 
which her eyes, of a sudden, were lowered. 

"The girls called me 'Dead Men's Shoes,'" she said, "till 
I showed I had live feet inside them ! I 've joined the pro- 
fession, — and my style 's from New York ! Do you want to 
hear the story ? " 

Leaning his elbow upon his desk, his cheek on his hand, 
Joyce sat tensely, defying his instinct to strain forward, — study- 



$6 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Oct, 

ing her, learning her, resisting her, yielding to her! Her sug- 
gestion of pathos was eloquent of purest womanliness. It 
seemed to redeem — all the rest. 

" I hope your story — is not a sad one. Pearl," he said, 
gently. 

Her eyes, as they lifted, showed unshed tears; but her 
voice fought its tremor bravely. 

"Sad?" she sighed. "Oh, I don't know! Maybe she's 
better off, — and maybe she isn't. She told me that this life — 
had been a hell to her ! I suppose she could n't go— to much 
worse ! " 

" She f " he questioned. 

She dropped her hat to the floor, and sat back with quick 
petulance, ignoring his puzzled inquiry. 

" Is n't it all a horrid muddle," she demanded, — " the here, 
— and the hereafter, — especially for us women ? Just because 
there 's no answer, what does anything matter ? That 's the 
way I*m going to take life!" 

She was serious now, as he had not thought she could be 
serious. In contrast with her coquetry, the change was be- 
wildering. She swung around lithely, resting arm and face on 
the back of her chair. Her profile lost its pertness in a sad 
little pout, as she told her human story. 

" It 's only just — that there 's a girl — in her grave on the 
prairie," she said: — "the girl who in life — would have come 
West in my place ! She got sick in Cheyenne — and the show 
sent her ahead — ^by the slow, cheap way! She got side-tracked 
at the junction, — and I looked out for her, — till she died there I 
I reckon that 's all about Aer / " 

"And about— your" 

She stripped off her gloves as she turned again to face him, 
and folded her hands on her projecting knee. They quivered 
on its edge, like birds seeking a nest. But Joyce's hands made 
no effort to meet them. 

"Oh! Me/*' she satirized. "Well, I'm not quite through 
with Aer yet, after all! She was a girl just like me, — with no 
j^.||j family, and no friends to count : so there was no one to send 

^ for — and I bought her trunks for the money — that buried her. 

'f^} She was my size and style, and her things seemed just made 

for me ! That was what first put her show in my head ! " 
Her smile was coming in sight again. 



1902.] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 97 

" I always did love the stage," she confessed. " Why not ? 
It's all lights, and music, and flowers. It's just lovely to look 
across the orchestra, and see the strange faces all smiling, 
smiling at you ! And the work has some fizz to it. One 
doesn't get stagnant. Oh, I'd thought of it often enough be- 
fore ! So when the show struck the junction, I went straight 
to the manager, and said, * What 's the matter with me f ' " 

"Yes! And he?" 

"Looked me over, and said — 'Not a little thing!' He's a 
daisy, and vows I was born for the stage. I 've signed for five 
years, for a tour of the world. We 're going from here to 
Australia ! " 

Her long story was finished, and she waited expectantly. 
But Joyce's silence* disappointed her. If she had understood 
its significance she would have been more than content; but in 
her uncertainty it embarrassed and hurt her. Since the day of 
their meeting she had thought much of her " beauty-boy," — far 
more than she had realized until this moment, when his lack of 
response discomfited her. The charm of his face, his respon- 
sively high spirits, his youth akin yet differentiated by sex and 
class, — his sympathy and championship, — all had made their 
effect; and she had dreamed girlish dreams, with him for their 
hero ! Were her dreams not coming true ? 

She had just turned nineteen, and by her orphaned youth's 
battle with it, knew the world superficially ; yet the ingenuous- 
ness of girlhood still survived in her. Her recklessness, if not 
ignorant, was still radically innocent. Religion and convention 
were but prudish names to her; yet her dashing rather than 
sentimental spirit, — her pride not yet softened by tender emo- 
tions, — her spirited nature and coquettish instincts, which, 
though inviting pursuit, leaned to independence rather than to 
surrender, — all had kept her feet in the path of honor, though 
the chasm of peril adjoined it. Hence there was a childlike 
innocence, an ethical ignorance about her present attitude 
towards Joyce, immortally redeeming in the spirit, yet sur- 
passingly touching in a human sense, since the social mistake 
entails a worldly penalty often spared the moral sin. Tradition- 
less, standardless, swayed by her heart, and as yet undistrustful 
of the impulses governing youth and affinity. Pearl faced in 
Joyce's silence something she did not understand, — an abstract, 
extraneous, arbitrary resistance to which neither his eyes, nor 

VOL. LXXVI.— 7 



98 Joyce josselyn. Sinner. [Oct, 

the subtle pulsations that reached her from his heart, offered 
her key or solution. 

She had had a long journey; she was tired and faint from 
excitement and long fasting ; above all, her warm young heart 
felt repulsed and lonely, — a^ much adrift in the human world 
as a rudderless boat at sea. To find herself only a stranger in 
a strange city, where she had been but too sure a " young 
gentleman- friend " awaited her, was a surprise so bitter as to 
seem a tragedy. Was even the girl in her grave on the prairie 
more desolate than she ? 

She stooped for her hat, and as she rose Joyce rose with 
her. This action seemed final, and humiliated as well as 
wounded her. She glanced up proudly to say good-by ; but as 
she met his eyes, her pride forsook her. ' Tears shimmered 
through her lashes; her lips trembled; her face drooped like 
the face of a child in sorrow. 

" O Joyce ! '* she cried impulsively, with a sob in her voices 
" are n't you glad, — just one little bit glad, — to see me ? " 

Was it in nature, — in human nature, in masculine nature, — 
not to comfort her? Whether he was glad or sorry, Joyce, in 
truth, did not know. He knew only that a winsome, piquant 
girl, — a distracting feminine incarnation of smiles and tears, — a 
pretty, arch face, flushing and drooping under his gaze, — 
solicited his favor. 

'* Glad, Pearl ? " he repeated. " Well, I guess / " 

And his young arm stole around her. 

The moment in which young souls first meet is at once 
eternal yet fleeting! A lingering pressure as her soft form 
yielded, — and Joyce, secretly reluctant but exteriorly resolute, 
stood back with a suddenly forbidding air, as if thrusting senti- 
ment behind him. Yet the transient tenderness had left its 
mark. The simplicity of self- unconsciousness no longer existed 
between them. They looked at each other with perplexed eyes, 
each wondering, each questioning, each suddenly fearful of self 
and of each other ! Of the two. Pearl's emotions were the 
more primitive and simple. In the comfort of Joyce's arm 
around her she had felt all that her girlish heart unconsciously 
longed for. — a sense of protection, an infusion of strength, a 
sympathy of youth and responsive attraction, — the natural 
woman's demand from the man : — and here her moral and 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 99 

social ignorance stopped contentedly* But Joyce, less a child 
of nature in cultured mind, though physical manhood remains 
unevoluted, knew, as all awakened souls know, the peril of the 
temptation to which he was yielding; and not only chivalrous 
self-reproach, but likewise a spiritual instinct of self-preserva- 
tion, warned him to retreat in time. In an instant of involun- 
tary introspection he realized that Pearl's invasion had startled 
and disturbed the masculine tenor of his life; that the trend of 
his recent resolutions was impeded, albeit not unpleasantly, — 
that his invitation to his mother was suddenly in abeyance,*— 
implying no noble good ! Then if evil to him, the man, was 
threatened, — what of her whose sex, morally, was more delicate 
and susceptible ? Poor Joyce struggled bravely ; and an inspira- 
tion rewarded him. He would consign this girl to woman-hands ! 

*' Look here, Pearl," he said, snatching up her bag, from 
which a brass bangle of trunk-checks jingled, '* better not be 
herded in with your show-crowd, in San Francisco. Will you 
trust yourself to me, for disposal ? " 

" Sure ! " she assented, radiantly ; smiling over her shoulder 
as she readjusted her hat before the mirror. '' That 's what I 
came for ! " 

"Then come along with me. Have you had your supper?" 

** No, I have n't ! I 'm simply starving." 

".Why, you poor little girl ! But there *s a cafe down stairs. 
We can't be long, though ; or Mrs. Murphy may refuse to let 



us in.!' 



" Mrs. Murphy ! Goodness ! Who 's Mrs. Murphy ? " 

" A dear Irishwoman, with whom I boarded before I came 
here." 

" Oh ! " 

Pearl felt decidedly crestfallen as she swept towards the 
cafe; though she revived enough to glare haughtily at the 
elevator-boy and porter who had resisted her invasion before 
Joyce's return. Her triumphant reappearance discomfited the 
two gossips, and coerced them, deeply to their disappointment, 
into giving Joyce's all-round relative the benefit of the doubt. 
Yet Pearl, for once, did not enjoy her victory. The unknown 
Mrs. Murphy was depressing her spirits. How did Mrs. Murphy 
fit in with Joyce's recent caress of her ? Was he going to 
withdraw just as he had seemed to prove himself the tender 
hero of her girlish dreams? 



I 



1 



r 



I 



loo Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Oct, 

In the brilliant caf^ with its gilding and mirrors, its flowers 
and fruits, across the dainty table, she faced Joyce almost 
sadly. The glitter of glass and silver and china and damask, — 
the deft attendance of the solicitous waiter, even the rich odors 
and luscious flavors of the feast, failed to satisfy her. In a 
mood more responsive to material spells, she would have ex- 
ulted in these, and in the chat and laughter about her, — in the 
frou-frou of silk on the tessellated marble floor, — in the gaze of 
gay youths whose full-dress somewhat awed her, — in every 
sight and sound and phase of an unfamiliar yet congenial scene 
of luxury ! 

But the hunger of her young human heart was now upper- 
most, and physical surfeit only mocked it. Sweeter than any 
delights of the palate, warmer than the glow of the lights, or the 
flame of the lamps under the nickel dishes, was her memory of 
Joyce's voice and eyes as his arm had stolen about her. Ex- 
ternals, of a sudden, were but husks and pottage. They seemed 
to intensify the hunger within her ! What was life worth, in 
loneliness ? What was youth, without love in it ? What was 
the world, when one's heart ached ? 

And why^ — oh ! why Mrs. Murphy ? 



CHAPTER XVI. 

MRS. MURPHY FORESEES THE TRAGEDY OF COMEDY. 

Joyce was not blind to the admiring glances attracted by 
his companion ; and his own admiration quickened, in mascu- 
line consequence. In her usual reckless spirits and coquettish 
mood, whose natural evidences would have been the ** eye- 
makings," smiles, and seductive head-tossings whereby flirtatious 
girlhood betrays pleased self-consciousness, Pearl's bold style of 
beauty and dashing dress would have challenged criticism, even 
in the public cafe whose patrons were by no means of the 
ultra-conservative social class. As it was, however, she was 
remarked as a handsome, strikingly stylish girl, whose travelling- 
bag suggested that Josselyn was doing the honors to a relative 
from the East: and women and men alike beamed graciously 
upon the attractive young couple. 

But Joyce, for once, left the room without halting to chat 



I902.J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. ioi 

at various tables; and disappointed youths who had lingered in 
hopes of a presentation to the *' stunning new girl/' exchanged 
glances, and confided to one another, when out of feminine 
hearing, that "Joss kept good things to himself." 

Joyce had been surprised and puzzled, as well as somewhat 
dangerously charmed, by Pearl's sudden demureness and dig- 
nity. He had no suspicion of the pain in her heart; and 
ascribed her reserve in public, which pleased his taste, to a 
refinement with which previously he had not accredited her. 
Had her depression endured, he might have discovered his mis- 
take.; but to the young and robust, fresh air is a stimulant more 
" heady " than any vintage ; and the exhilaration Pearl had 
resisted in an artificial environment conquered her melancholy 
as she faced the night. She insisted upon walking; and Joyce 
was nothing loath to indulge her: The moist chill of the air 
was as delicious to him as to her; and they breathed in deep 
breaths, taking long, buoyant steps in easy unison. Pearl 
had the rare grace of walking perfectly. With head carried 
high, and torso erect yet pliant, she swung along from the hips, 
like a young Greek athlete ; and many second ^looks were 
turned upon her. As they crossed the heart of the city, the 
crowds were just pouring from theatres and halls; and she 
breasted the human stream with a heart akin to it. The bur- 
den of the isolation of the prairie was lifted from her; and her 
youth effervesced like uncorked wine. 

" Oh, it 's great,'' she said, flinging back her coat, as her 
high young chest expanded. *' I got off life's main-road, side- 
tracked there on the prairie ; but now I 've struck the through- 
line, have n't I ? The city 's the place for us young ones, is n't 
it? The dash and fire of youth simply sit all over it. And 
this glittering night-life, — isn't it grand to be really ^ it? 
The human crowd 's so — alive / " 

" Why, Pearl ! " exclaimed Joyce, looking at her with new 
interest '* I did n't know you had all that in you ! " 

"All what, if you please?" 

" All that — feeling, — for things below surfaces ! " 

" Oh, no ! Gir/s don't feel, — of course, poor things ! They 
leave feelings and thoughts, and everything fine, to boys whose 
souls soar to — mustaches ! " 

Instinctively Joyce's hand lifted, to give his modest blond 
appendage a guilty pull. Then they laughed gaily together. 






'i 



• < 



, "» 



*•', V 




I02 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Oct, 



Passers-by, overhearing the ringing peal, were constrained to 

\ smile in sympathy. 

^ " You did n't know I felt ! " emphasized Pearl, with scath- 

ing scorn. " Why, what 's /i/e but feeling ? What 's art ? 
What 's love ? What 's anything ? " 

" Art ? " he repeated, turning frankly surprised eyes on her. 
" Oh, — ^you mean the dramatic art ! " 

" Yep ! And all its brothers and sisters, too : — music, pic- 
tures, and the rest, if there is any rest 1 Say, I know a sight 
more than you seem to think ! If you don't stop talking down 
to me from the top of a college-steeple, you '11 tumble off and 
hurt your brains ! " 

The clang of a passing car drowned Joyce's disavowals. As 
they crossed the great thoroughfare from one side, they were 
jostled by a crowd from the other. Heavy teams and swift 
carriages hastened in all directions. Shop-windows and en- 
trances were still brilliantly illuminated. From restaurants and 
theatres streamed floods of electric lights. Venders and news- 
boys out- called one another. Men and women of all types met 
in common contact. The air sparkled like the breath of the 
stars. 

A wave of vivid blood dyed Pearl's face with new beauty. 
Her gray eyes darkened lustrously. 

" It 's just 4ike the theatre ! " she cried ; '* and the stage is 
like this ! That 's its hold on the people, — and on me / " 

'* Oh, Pearl," Joyce said, impulsively thinking aloud ; " I 
wish you would drop this stage-business ! " 

" Drop it ? My gracious ! What for ? " 

*' Well, it — it is the very worst life for a girl, you know ! " 

" Oh, is it ? You know an awful lot about it, don't you, 
now ? And if it is the worst life, who makes it so ? The girl, — 
or swell Johnnies, like you ? " 

Joyce cleared his throat apologetically. 

" It makes me sick, — all this cant against the stage ! Why, 
I love it more and more every minute I think about it. Just 
to take it and stand there without saying one word, puts me 
into a perfect fever." 

Joyce swung her bag restlessly from hand to hand. He be- 
gan to feel that her fever was chronic ; and that its heat and 
delirium were contagious. 

** Of course our show 's low," she admitted. " Vou don't 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 103 

have to tell me that, thank you ! But the stage is just beauti- 
ful, even at the foot; and I couldn't begin at the top, could 
I ? I get life^ anyway ; concentrated, intensified human life ; 
and that 's what I needed to get the dead old prairie out of 
me ! One breathes in the lights, and the music, — and the tyts^ 
and the heart-beats ! Oh, it 's just grand, and glorious, and 
splendid ! '' 

" Why, Pearl," repeated Joyce, with a man's inaneness in 
the face of feminine surprises. " You have the dramatic in- 
stinct, — the artistic temperament. The soul of a real actress is 
in you." 

She sunk her hands in her coat- pockets, fingering their silk 
lining with the joy of sense that makes a cat purr as it pads 
soft textures, and flashed glad eyes on him, gratefully. 

"Have I?" she smiled. ''Why, that's jolly, isn't it? I 
just love to talk to you. You understand, — and draw out 
what 's in me ! That 's your — magnetism, I suppose. I 'm mag- 
netic, too. It gives one a lot of — power ! " 

Joyce strode straight ahead, his young heart trembling. 
Power ? Yes, Pearl had power ! He felt it in every tingling 
nerve, in every leaping vein, in every drop of riotous blood 
within him. It was a power he must resist, must defy, must 
conquer or flee. But no, — to flee would be cowardly ; he 
would conquer, of course ! He swayed closer to her, to prove 
his valor. 

They were nearing the South Park district. The streets 
were darker, unpretentious, deserted. The din of the traffic on 
the great thoroughfare rumbled monotonously in the distance. 
It undertoned, like an accompaniment, the exultant note of her 
voice. 

" Power*' she said ; — " that 's what a girl needs in this 
men's world, and I 'm going to use mine, you reckon ! And 
power is n't only beauty, though some paint-boxes think so ! 
Beauty can't hold a candle to — heart ! " 

His own heart beat so tumultuously that he dared not trust 
his voice to answer. She flashed him a side-glance, and curled 
her lip saucily. 

'* / wouldn't give a cent for a person without a heart," she 
assured him. " A heartless woman 's a doll, and a man *s a 
fish ; and of all things, I do detest fishes I " 

They had reached Mrs. Murphy's gate, and the dazed Joyce 






104 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Oct., 

turned in at it with reluctant footsteps. He was wondering 
what in hang he had wanted of Mrs. Murphy ? A third party 
is proverbially superfluous. 

Pearl approved the large, low house standing back from the 
modest street, and, as the door opened, smiled propitiatingly at 
Mrs. Murphy. But Mrs. Murphy's smile was for Joyce, who 
lagged in the rear, collecting his wits. At first sight, she knew 
Pearl for a " flibbertigibbet." 

She had been saying her beads, when the door-bell startled 
her ; and they jingled against the knob, now, as she clicked her 
tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head in 
protest against the lateness of the hour. But as Pearl followed 
her into the darkened parlor, which Joyce reilluminated, recklessly 
scraping his match along the panelling, — the girl's impression 
was strongly favorable; and, indeed, no man, woman or child, 
cat or dog, ever resisted Mrs. Murphy ! She was a comely 
woman of such gracious portliness as became her ripe years : — 
fresh- complexioned as a girl, and with dark hair still unsilvered. 
Her eyes, deeply set under a bland, broad forehead, were of 
bright Irish-blue, shadowed by long, heavy lashes, her full lips 
smooth and pink as a kissable baby's ; but the secret of her 
charm was her sweet, maternal expression, — loving, forgiving, 
renunciative, — selflessly tender to all the human world. 

She was dressed in neat black, ornamented by a bogwood 
brooch framing a daguerreotype of her deceased husband, upon 
which her soft chin doubled itself to rest caressingly. This 
brooch was as inseparable from her as her wedding-ring ; and 
was said to be a sign of her single-hearted allegiance to the 
departed. Flighty widows were Mrs. Murphy's detestation ; 
therefore the mischievous Joyce had "teased the life out of 
her," as she expressed it, on the subject of second husbands. 
Moreover, her delightfully musical intonations and idioms, sug- 
gesting ** the brogue " without really pronouncing it, had charmed 
Joyce's Celtic ear from the first, and tempted him to roguish 
mimicry, which in nowise offended the mimicked ! 

** Well, Mamma Murphy," announced Joyce, rushing to the 
point, "I just could not sleep nights, thinking of my room 
empty; so I've brought you a brand-new boarder. Miss Pearl 
Ripley, Mrs. Murphy ! " 

Then his old habit reasserted itself, and with a twinkle in 
his eyes, he struck an attitude before his hostess. 



1902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 105 

" Keep an eye on her for me, Pearl ! " he cried. " She 's 
the wildest widdy you ever heard of! Every man in the 
house is under the feet of her. What 's that you 're after say- 
ing, Widow Machree ? " 

"Tut, tut, tut," protested Mrs. Murphy, ignoring his non- 
sense in the desperate resolve to be censorious. " Sure and it *s 
not for the gay boy like you, Mr. Joyce, to be presenting 
young girls at this hour of the night! Not the length of her 
bag should she be after trusting you ! What call have you 
with her at all ? " 

On the altar of good taste, — Pearl being an alien, — Joyce 
sacrificed his lingual temptation; but the spirit of badinage 
survived. 

'• Now, Mrs. Murphy," he said, " don't take away the 
character of an Irish mother's son ; — and as good a Catholic as 
you are, — every bit of me ! " 

" It 's the heathen you are entirely, then," refuted Mrs. 
Murphy, — " sleeping over the holy Mass-time every blessed 
Sunday you stopped with me. Sure it went against my con- 
science to give you your dinner ! Which you were never 
known to miss that same ! " 

" But you forget my delicate health, Mrs. Murphy ; — which 
covers a multitude of sins ! " 

The excited Mrs. Murphy briskly fanned herself with her 
rosary. 

" Delicate, is it ? And the appetite of him — " 

" Delicate," explained Joyce, " in a peculiar, periodical, and 
characteristically masculine way ! From Monday to Saturday, 
inclusively, I am as strong as a horse; but on Sunday morning, 
regularly, the Sleeping Sickness prostrates me ! In Africa, it is 
fatal: but America has discovered a compound remedy; — the 
rest-cure, to be taken in bed till noon, — well mixed with the 
Sunday newspapers ! " 

Pearl laughed merrily, contentedly rocking herself in an old- 
fashioned chair, and taking an inventory of the room and its 
appointments. The invisible green rep furniture was plentifully 
cushioned; the faint green of the tinted walls was well covered 
by family portraits and devotional engravings: a piano, — the 
central feature, — spoke volumes for Mrs. Murphy's musical in- 
telligence, since it was neither laden with a job- lot of tone- 
muffling ornaments, nor fitted with painful tightness into an 



» Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Oct, 

[le of the wall I Flanking the hearth, as well as in the deep 
r-window, were great pots of trailing and climbing ivy, and 
brilliant geraniums, the scent of whose leaves was sweetly 
igeot on the air. A black-walnut bookcase at the lower 
1 of the room presented an assortment of prayer-books, 
ision- souvenirs, and devotional pamphlets, interspersed by 
ky volumes of Irish history and song, the family Bible, and 
lozen big illustrated works such as the dark ages of America 
ited upon a too open-handed race, as " Catholic publica- 
is." The lower shelves groaned beneath a collection of 
)er-covered literature which would have swelled the Index, 
ng the overflow from the rooms of divers masculine boarders 
iject to dissipated states of minds. On the marble mantel 
ced a self-respecting clock which, since it not only went, but 
:wise kept standard time, Joyce had nicknamed " The 
rphy Miracle ! " Lastly, the floor was not rugged, but com- 
tely carpeted in a monotone of darkest green, running to 
den arabesques for a border. Ear-rasping floors and feet- 
iping rugs were not Mrs. Murphy's idea of a cozy home-parlor. 
" Please let me stay, dear Mrs. Murphy," coaxed Pearl, with 
heart in her eyes. "I'll be ever so good, truly; though 
course you must let me have a latch-key, as the theatre 's 
: late nights ! " 
"The theatre, is it? And what call have yon at the thea- 

saving once in a way ? Sure it 's never a play-actress 
I 're after being, — a slip of a girl like you ! " 
" Not a real actress, yet ; — ^just in the ' pictures ' and chorus, 
after my first season. I'm one of the 'Comedy Girls!'" 
"It's better you'd be at some good man's cooking, then! 
'Comedy Girl,' — God bless us!'" 
Joyce detached the checks from Pearl's bag, 
"Good-night, Mamma Murphy," he said. " By this time 
morrow I '11 find you and Pearl turtle-doves. By the way, 

I mention that she is my friend from back East ? Of 
irse I knew any friend of mine would be sure of your wel- 
ne ! I '11 send up your trunks first thing in the morning, 
irl. Or is one of them for the theatre ? " 
" Nop ! I don't even know which theatre we 're to play at. 
: 've got a week off, for dress -rehearsals ; and I gave your 
Iress to the manager for my notice, so he 'd know I had a 
I with the press! " 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 107 

"Oh, did you, now?" gasped Joyce, staring at her with 
startled eyes. 

" Yes ! Good of me, was n't it ? Say, I '11 just go with you 
as far as the gate, while Mrs. Murphy makes up my room!" 

" Hear the impudence of her, — ^and never passing the ques- 
tion if I 'd a room in the house," smiled Mrs. Murphy, hospi- 
tality radiating from her, as she rose. 

But looking from the stairs, over her shoulder, through the 
open door, at the young couple sauntering down the path, her 
face became serious, and her kind eyes troubled. Her mother- 
heart feared for both. 

" It *s * friends ' they *re after thinking themselves, poor 
young creatures ! " she soliloquized. " But sure it *s the friend- 
ship called love that I see in the eyes of them, and their inno- 
cence never knowing it ! He 's the grand boy, entirely, — not 
for her, nor the likes of her, — a * Comedy Girl,' God save her ! 
Sure it's the comedies like her that make the tragedies of the 
world ! It 's with Father Tracy himself I '11 be consulting, be- 
fore ever she 's up in the morning ! " 

Yet the moon and the stars looking down through the pure, 
calm night — the winds listening at the gate, — saw and heard 
nothing evil ! The glow of life, the bliss of youth, the human 
heart- beats that sway the world, and glad young voices plan- 
ning innocent pleasures, — what possible harm in these ? Both 
swung on the gate, with interlaced arms folded on it. Smiling 
eyes and lips and soft young cheeks were near ; yet they parted 
unsentimentally, undemonstratively, with lightest words and 
gayest laughter. If Tragedy lurked near, it was with hidden 
face. It was Comedy's carnival hour. 

The gate clicked, the front door banged with a force that 
made the scandalized Mrs. Murphy drop the pillow she was 
shaking ; swift feet ran up the stairs ; and into the room danced 
Pearl, clapping her hands as she whirled about on the Oriental 
matting. 

*' Oh, what a pretty room ! " she exclaimed, taking in its 
spacious squareness with one observant glance. " I adore 
straw matting; it's so cool to the feet; — brass beds are just 
nobby, — and cretonne is as fresh as peach -blossoms ! It just 
looks as though my beauty-boy had lived here before me ! 
Is n't he the peacKi^st thing, Mrs. Murphy ? " 

She tossed off her hat, flung her coat after it, thumped her 



JOYCE JOSSELYN, SiNNEJt. [Oct, 

upon the toilette-table, and slipping her arm about Mrs. 
phy's ample waist, twirled her away from the bed she was 
:ing, towards each article of furniture, as she designated it 
"Just to think," she laughed, "that my beauty-boy pattered 
:g this matting, — stared out of these windows through these 
' lace curtains, — rocked in this comfy chair with his heels 
on that one, — looked at these pretty pictures of — O dear ! — 
; Samuel and all his relations, are n't they ? — dreamed on 

snuggly pillow, with his cheek just here, where this kissy 
: dent is, — and admired himself in this flattering mirror! 

the little bit of a crack that he stared it into, Mrs. Mur- 
-! Even a glass can't stand masculine vanity I " 
So the room which had been Joyce's, but which now was 
rl's, resounded, in spite of Mrs. Murphy's secret protests and 
pvings, with happy laughter; while the room which Pearl 

invaded, now re-entered by Joyce alone, seemed oppressively 

<ty and silent He stood looking about it, disconsolately — a 

ary figure — after turning on the lights. 

'Why, how lonely it looks without Pearl," he murmured. 

Lonely ? 

The spoken word, striking on his ear, wakened slumbering 

lory. Suddenly his thoughts reverted to all that the sur- 

e and fever of the evening had tempted him to forget, — 

the social loneliness indeed before him, when the Raymond 

3e should be closed, and his friends departed : when Mam'- 

: and Stephen no longer stimulated his soul and manliness, 

Mrs. Raymond and Gladys ceased to divide his thoughts 

heart 

A surge of anticipative regret momentarily overwhelmed 
1 — then, across the "glittering horseshoe's" foreground, the 
of Pearl Ripley outlined itself, in a tempting mental pic- 
All the youth in Joyce, — all its impulse of revolt against 
ude and heartache, all its passion for pleasure, all its heed- 
rashness, its recklessness of consequences, instinctively re- 
ided to the laughing, luring vision. He recalled the mo- 
it when his arm had encircled her, and contrasted with its 
=t human nearness his present Isolation. That she did not 
eal to him like his friends of finer type was an argument in 
rl's favor, rather than against her. With her he found re- 
,tion, refreshing freedom, and vent for impulse,— the com- 



I902.]. Joyce JossELYN, Sinner. 109 

plement of man's social side, whose demand is more vital than 
the gentleman's ! 

A glorious girl with whom to tread the plane of rational 
human association^ undevitalized by artificial social conventions^ — 
this was the light in which Joyce saw the Pearl of his future ; — 
and who shall cast a stone at his ingenuous vision ? 

But ah, for youth's ideals when they meet reality ! Ah, for 
the human pride that doubts not its own strength \ Ah, for the 
man and woman who trust to self and each other, — not to 
God I As the child and the fire, as the moth and the flame, — 
are such souls in the toils of the tempter. 

Joyce Josselyn, indeed, would miss the Raymond household ; 
— but Pearl Ripley's " beauty-boy " would not be lonely ! For 
the life of the greenroom laughs at solitude ; and lower bohemia, 
till the evanescent bubble of its pleasure is pricked, is a merry 
and witching country. The glamour of its footlights dazzles 
young eyes ; and in young hearts, its music blends love-songs 
with dance-tunes. 

The gloom and the silence that lie just beyond them, — for- 
give youth, that it foresees not these I 

End of Part II. 

(to be continued.) 



^^s|b^ 




s^ 



^^ 



TOUS ELEMENT IN MODERN POETRY. [Oct, 



LIGIOUS ELEMENT IN MODERN POETRY. 

BY FRANK WATERS. 

HERE is a certain class of persons who will tell 
you that the age of poetry is past. This, they 
say, is a practical age — scientific, commercial, 
industrial, co-operative ; an age which deals 
with the hard facts of things, and which has 
mpty imagining^ or subtle refinements of senti- 
that such persons are wrong all around it does 
>lomon, neither "a Daniel come to judgment," to 
y, they understand neither themselves nor others, 
God-scheme of things wherein they form so many 
lighty whole stretching beyond all parts or parti- 
one hand, they do not apprehend, and therefore 
;, the term "practical," which has a meaning im- 
der than that assigned it by them ; while as to 
essential fact they stand conspicuously blind, mis- 
For ends, and passing shows for solid fixed entities, 
hand, so far are they from being correct in their 
he presently- existent situation, that we need but 
ance at recent and current fields of literature to 
:lusively that while, it must be admitted, there 
)r the moment no one great and commanding 
le horizon of poetry, yet surely never before was 
which witnessed so large an output in this direc- 
lay claim to a body of minor poets in number 
and, in lyric verse, so felicitous of execution. 
:e of poetry is not past ; and it is entirely safe 
never will pass, " even to the consummation of 
i^or tbc raison d'etre of poetry lies in the very 
ngs — in the nature of God and man alike ; and, 
:, you must destroy a universe; you must wreck 
rom their foundation upward ; you must strike at 
rt of things, erase the true, the beautiful, and the 
uce all to one brute-level of universal degrada- 



I902.] RELIGIOUS ELEMENT IN MODERN POETRY. Ill 

For, what is poetry ? In its more restricted sense, it is the 
grandest, and the most . widely-reaching in its influence, of all 
the arts — as it were the foundation, at once, and the keystone, 
to them all: par excellence^ the Art Divine.* We may call 
music the poetry of sound ; sculpture, the poetry of moulded 
form ; painting, the poetry of color in harmonious grouping of 
tint and of design; and architecture, the poetry of building. 
But poetry itself is, in the wider meaning and manifestation, a 
power which works through them all, yet remains itself, and is 
in itself capable of moving men with something of the com- 
bined effect of all these. It can sway with the grand harmonies 
of music, being itself the living harmony of thought and emo- 
tion, whether merely felt within or linked to the appropriate 
external expression. It can call up before the mind's eye forms 
more living and breathing than those that spring to being on 
the painter's magic canvas, or take symmetry and feature be- 
neath the moulding hand of the sculptor. And what architect 
can group and mass, in long years, such heavenward piles as 
the poet may build up with adjusted words within the little 
compass of an hour ? 

A poet of to-day calls this great power 



i( 



. . . the essence of the Beautiful, 
The high interpreter 'twixt man and Love," 

and well exclaims : 

" O God, it is a glorious gift. 

That of the master-poet's art. 
Whereon Thy Spirit doth uplift 

The human mind and heart, 
And^ setting them in essence free 

From jurisdiction of the clay. 
Dost thrill with kiss of Deity 

The nature Love would sway." 

And herein he sums up for us the very real and practical 
utility of poetry ; for it is, in all noble manifestations of it, 
most genuinely the very voice of God to man — the native 
tongue of Him who is Himself the Master-Poet of the universe : 
the " Maker " whose mighty work is — Himself and His creation. 
For God is no mere scientist, nor is his work a mere soulless 



'•'It 



112 RELIGIOUS ELEMENT IN MODERN POETRY. [Oct., 

mechanism ; it is a living organic whole, wherein he expresses 
himself with divine glory and clearness for those who care to 
see, and in the framing and scheme of which he allots a high 
utilitarian value 'to Truth, and Beauty, and Good far beyond that 
of the so-called *' practical," when this is taken as meaning 
simply the physical, material, and work- day things of life. It 
being an integral part of his nature to thus express himself to 
himself and others, is a guarantee to us that the age of poetry 
can never pass while man is man and God is God. In short, 
the ** facts " of life are not solely the things which we can 
grasp and handle, nor are its "utilitarian" pursuits confined 
to mere money-getting, scientific cultivation of knowledge, or 
other such things. Away beyond these in even practical value 
to the world are the diligent conservation and cultivation of 
noble thought and sentiment issuing to noble action — things 
which are of the very soul and substance of poetry, their 
natural and true expression and efficient sustenance. 

Through the preacher and the religious writer God appeals 
to man by what we may call the didactic method. Through the 
artist — but most eminently through the poet — He, the Supreme 
Artist, the Arch-Poet, approaches his fallen creature by the 
great and moving power of the artistic. The preacher speaks 
direct of the moral or spiritual topic in hand. The poet, if he 
be a master in his art, does not: his first care must be to 
shape a perfect work of art — of adjusted symmetry and beauty ; 
but this (if he be God-minded) he will inform with a soul of 
spiritual meaning self-expounding. And here is where one of 
the great uses of poetry comes in ; for while there are count- 
less numbers whom neither preacher nor religious writer can in 
any way approach — because they will not be approached by 
these — yet the same persons may be facilely alive to impres- 
sion through their artistic side. True, again, the poet is by 
no means always God-minded, for man stands not alone ; he 
is a living centre open to the direct influence of Godhead 
on the one side and of the adversary on the other. And as 
there is a beauty clearly divine, and what the French well term 
a beauty of the devil : which is to say, a beauty good in es- 
sence but evil in 'act and effect, so there is no less a poetry 
which speaks aright and silver-tongued of things celestial, and 
a poetry inspired direct from the very pit of hell. 

This being so, we may congratulate ourselves that, in look- 



I902.] Religious Element in Modern Poetry. 113 

ing over the field of modern English poetry, we find its lead- 
ing exponents — and there have been great ones among us — so 
eminently spiritual and noble in aim and utterance ; so inwardly 
imbued with the spirit of Christian teaching ; true prophets and 
seers of God in their own way, and filled at times with the 
living breath of his quickening spirit. It is particularly to this 
notable phase of their work that I would herein direct atten- 
tion ; but before going further I must premise that when I 
speak of English poetry I mean poetry written in the English 
tongue ; and I use the word modern in a strictly limited sense, 
as applying to the just by past generation of poets, who have 
left a vacancy in this field the more striking because of the 
impressive figures who lived and wrought there, most of them, 
even well within our own day. 

In ruder ages poetry was the language of sentiment and 
emotion ; it dealt little with thought, in the severer acceptation 
of that term, being imaginative or passionate, but in nowise 
philosophical or purely intellectual. As time passed, and men 
grew in culture, the natural tendency was to introduce a soul 
of deeper meaning, as when we find Spenser trying to inculcate 
moral and spiritual truths under guise of his great allegory. 
But, on the whole, poetry remained as a language set apart to 
the things of the heart, and not meant for appeal in any direct 
way to the head, or thinking faculty. Yet the tendency to 
enlarge the sphere of the godlike art in this direction con- 
tinued, until it attained to an unhappy culmination in the so- 
called classic era — the age of Pope and Dryden — when the head 
thrust the heart aside from poetry, and practically killed the 
latter, reducing it from poetry to verse — verse penetrating, 
acute, philosophical, if you will, but unemotional, cold, rigid, 
and artificial: the very antithesis of poetry in its higher mean- 
ing and truer manifestation. Then came the reaction from dead 
verse to living poetry once more ; begun by Cowper, and car- 
ried to its splendid consummation in the days of Wordsworth, 
Byron, Shelley, Keats. Yet while these restored a lost art, 
they carried with them a good deal of the moralizing and 
philosophical strain of the classicists, though in very different 
manner. But it was reserved to their successors, the men of 
yesterday, Tennyson, Longfellow, Browning — and with them one 
most notable woman, the glorious poetess, Elizabeth Barrett 
Browning, " Shakspcre's daughter " — to handle poetry as a fit- 

VOL. LXXVI.— 8 



[ RELIGIOUS ELEMENT IN MODERN POETRY. [Oct., 

g vehicle for the most abstruse speculation, for expression of 
: subtlest and deepest metaphysical and theological truths, for 
>eal to head and heart together, of head to heart, moreover, 
I of heart to head ; and doing all this as perfect artists, who 
nd thought and emotion to a perfect artistic unison, so that 
ir poetry is truly the very highest and most artistic, as it is 
■> the subtlest, profoundest, and most suggestive, expression 

both intellect and emotion working at and to their loftiest 
1 grandest development. 

It would be an interesting and a nobly profitable study to 
Lmine into the religious and intellectual philosophy of these 
at and notable poets; for they were largely God-inspired, 
I sang with trained skill the things of God. But the object 
this article is not so much to attempt any analysis of this 
d as to point out the practical good we should derive from 

work of these, God's messengers to men, clothing his words 
noble guise, and worthy, sure, of at least a modest place in 
great temple of the utilitarian as raising men's souls to 
her levels, refining their hearts, and enlarging their lives — 
igs surely of some practical value. 

It is in furtherance of this special object that I have selected 

illustration that one among our modern singers whose work 
)eals to the largest audience, and whose words have become 
isehold words of cheering and sustaining power to countless 
usands, alike of the most cultured and the simplest readers, 
erever the English language is spoken : him who stands easily 
t of American poets and men of letters — the great and good 
nry Wadsworth Longfellow, Not philosophically so profound 
I searching as his compeers, he is to the full as true and 
juisite a poet ; and it is largely due to his very simplicity of 
1 and lucid clearness of expression that he makes so strong 
1 wide an appeal to the hearts of men, and through their 
irts to that moral intellect which takes cognizance of right 
1 wrong. In this respect he is a striking type of his class, 
ng a true preacher and teacher, yet a most artistic one, 
ose message, received at first for its consummate beauty of 
tion, sinks at unaware into the soul, and therein germinates 
growth of Godward thought and emotion. 

Perhaps the one most notable characteristic of Longfellow's 
rk, on its spiritual side, is the eminently Christian nature of 



I902.] Religious Element in Modern Poetry, 115 

it. And this shows the more remarkable and admirable when 
we remember that the man was not. himself formally a Chris- 
tian; to him, or at least to the creed in which he was brought 
up, " the white Christ " stands not forth as the Son of the liv- 
ing God, but merely, as the grandest and most perfect figure 
amid the sons of men. Yet you would never surmise this from 
Longfellow's poems ; and as a matter of fact I do believe that 
while, through force of early training and long association, the 
poet's intellect continued to give a kind of formal, perfunctory 
adherence to his Unitarian creed, the heart did more and more 
contradict this, making him a Christian of pure instinct — thor- 
oughly at one with the spirit of Christianity, though not for- 
mally of its body. Take, for instance, his poem, " Blind Bar- 
timeus " ; it is Christian to the core. Or again, in " The Golden 
Legend " turn to Elsie's prayer before the crucifix, or to the 
exquisite little story of the Bridegroom and the King's Daughter: 
it is no Unitarian who is thinking and feeling there, and ex- 
pressing himself right delicately and nobly. 

In truth, Longfellow was not only an instinctive Christian: 
he was in the widest way genuinely Catholic in sympathy with 
all that is true and good, and altogether free from anything 
like sectarian narrowness. And you will accordingly find him 
display a remarkable familiarity with the teachings and usages 
of the Roman Catholic Church, whose spiritual doctrines and 
splendid ceremonial had an evident and strong attraction for 
him, ks has happened with so many of his fellows in the tune- 
ful brotherhood. " The Golden Legend " illustrates this in 
many beautiful passiages; and while some too thin-skinned 
Roman Catholic critics have censured him because his pictures 
of monastic life in that poem are not all of its better side, I 
think he is the rather to be admired forasmuch as that, while 
not blind to the many abuses which from time to time grew 
into historic facts, he sees with as clear vision the true and 
noble side to a phase of life wherewith outsiders are as a rule 
so less than little in sympathy. 

In " Evangeline " you will find further exemplification of 
this same familiarity with things Roman Catholic. How well 
he touches- in the figure of the good pastor of Grand- Pre, and 
the affectionate reverence with which he is greeted by his 
flock : 



RELIGIOUS Element in Modern Poetry. [Oct., 

itnnly down the street came the parish priest, and the 

:hildren 

;d in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless 

them. 

rend walked he among them : and up rose matrons and 

maidens, 

ng his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome." 

ideed, as far as the religious tone of it goes, the poem 
t have been written by a Roman Catholic. And you will 
elsewhere the same intimate familiarity breaking out in 
hed phrases or figures; as when he says, in "King Olat's 
;tmas " — 

" Then over the waste of snows 
The noonday sun uprose, 

Through driving mists revealed, 
Like the lifting of the Host, 
By incense-clouds almost 
Concealed." 

figure is a remarkable one, and shows an inwardly Catho- 
ent of mind in him who could use it. 

Vant of space will not permit me to make a study, such 
could wish, of this great poet's work in his art. At most, 
article is meant to be merely suggestive — to turn the at- 
on of others to a field of study which will richly repay the 
nation. Those who may desire to look further into this 
: subject of the religious element in recent English poetry 
find food for investigation in Stopford Brooke's late publi- 
n, Religion in Literature, and in Bishop Carpenter's book, 
Religious Spirit in the Poets. But the best way is, to read 
poets themselves, and lay their living words to heart. Nor 
hese is there one more fruitful of practical good to the 
er than is he whose work I have picked and chosen for 
ial citation because of that very fact. He is a true Chris- 
teacher; and the whole bent of his life and writings is so 
summed up in that most characteristic poem of his, the 
e " Psalm of Life," that I cannot, perhaps, close my re- 
cs in any more fitting way than by quoting from the same, 
surely even Longfellow himself never wrote to better pur- 



I902.] RELIGIOUS Element in Modern poetry. 117 

pose, or more felicitously packed a whole philosophy of noble 
and Christian living into the modest compass of a few masterly 
lines, than when he said : 

"Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 
' Life is but an empty dream ! ' 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 

" Life is real I Life is earnest ! 
And the grave is not its goal : 
' Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 
Was not spoken of the soul. 

" Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. 
Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow ' 
Find us farther than to-day. 



" Let us, then, be up and doing. 
With a heart tor any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing. 
Learn to labor and to wait." 



<? 10? IDiews anb 'Reviews, if if 



I. 



Deshon : Sermons for cUl the Sundays of the Ecclesiastical Vear, and the f^nci- 
pal Festivals; 2. Ginnstt: Friars and Filipinos; 3. Hetzenauer: Wesem 
und Principiender Bibelkritik auf Kalholischer Grundlage ; 4. BUnc: Reper- 
toire Bibliographxqne des Auteurs et des Ouvrages Contemporains de Langue 
Franfaise ou Latine ; 5. Weinstock : fesus the few, and Othef Addresses ; 
6. Sabatier : Sancti Francisci Legenda Veteris Fragwenta Qucedam ; 7. 
Hedg^ei : Statistics concerning Education in the Philippine Islands ; S. Shaw : 
The Coast of Freedom ; 9. Kershaw: A Catholu History of Our Country ; 10. 
Dale: The Sacristan' s Manual; 11. Stokes: Ten Common Trees; 12. Jor- 
dans: The Danger of Youth and a tried Antidote ; 13. Jackson: From 
Hearth to Cloister ; 14. Lowrie: Monutnents of the Early Chuich; 15. Fitx- 
patrick: Our Lady and the Eucharist; 16. Mcl^mw% : fezebel : A Rotnance 
in the Days when Ahab was King of Israel; 17. Stephen : George Eliot ; 18. 
Sally Cavanagh ; or. The Untenanted Graves. 



1 — What makes Father Deshon's sermons* especially at- 
tractive is their direct and practical bearing on the life of 
souls. Father Deshon is an old missionary, and has had a 
life- long experience both in preaching and directing souls, and 
these sermons are the best flowering of his life's work. There 
is, moreover, about them a quaint mystical flavor that comes 
from an intimate acquaintance with the old writers of ascetical 
theology. 

Most priests And a sermon that stimulates their own thoughts 
the only one of value. To have this stimulating quality a ser- 
mon must have an original character, and there must be about 
it a certain attractive flavor of simplicity and directness. Father 
Deshon's sermons possess these qualities in a most eminent 
degree. 

2. — There does not appear to be any very good reason why 
Dr. Rizal's Tagalog novel f should not have been left to slum- 
ber in its original idiom. It is neither a well-written novel nor 
does it possess the merit of even fairly representing the condi- 
tion of aff"airs among the Tagalogs. Like novels of its kind, it 
purposely exaggerates certain degenerate traits of character, or 

* Sermons for all the Sundays of the Ecclesiastical Year, an J the Principal Festivals. For 
the use of Parish Priests and for Private Reading. By \'ery Kov. G<ur,L;e Deshon, of the 
Paulist Fathers. Cloth, 500 page^, $1.00. New Vurk : Cathdic Book Fxchange, 120 West 
6oth Street. 

\ Friars and Filipinos. An abridged translation of l)r. Jo^e Ri/aKs Tagalog novel, AWi 
Me Tan^ere. By Frank Krnest Gannett. New York : L«\\i^ Sciil>ncr \ Co. 1902. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 119 

twists out of all semblance to reality certain customs of the 
people. It is written by a man who had personally suffered at 
the hands of constituted authority, and whose motives of re- 
venge and antagonism are plainly evident. The original novel 
was so obscene in parts that the translator showed his good 
judgment in cutting these parts out. Novel- readers in English 
would not stomach the coarse immorality of Rizal's original 
chapters. Rizal is, moreover, a defamer of his own race and 
country when he- pretends that he gives a picture of the Fili- 
pino people. It has been constantly asserted that the Filipinos 
are sensitive, refined, lovers of music and of gentle home living. 
The most refined people under Rizal's pen are vulgar and 
coarse in their brutality. Dona Consolacion is the wife of the 
Alferez of the town. Her husband says to her, ** Oh, shut 
your mouth, or I '11 kick you till you do " ; " You want me to 
smash you," he said, clinching his fists ; " ' Open that door or 
I '11 break your skull ' ; he howled, pounded, and kicked the 
panels " ; and he proceeds to give his readers, with an abundance 
of such delectable phrases, an account of a little family brawl 
in high life which would not be witnessed in the lowest slums 
of any American city. And this is the best he has to say of 
his own people. 

There is a great deal of nonsense in talking about Rizal as 
the Washington of his people. Rizal may have been an edu- 
cated man, but his coarse vulgarity is constantly coming to the 
surface. When he is stripped of the little glamour of romance 
that surrounds his name, and one sees the real man, there is 
not much else found in him but a man of obscene speech, of 
low life, a contemner of things sacred. At least this is the im- 
pression his novel makes on the reader. We liked the hero 
Rizal, but his novel shows that his feet are of clay, and his 
heart, well, of just mud. 

3. — Pere Hetzenauer, who is known to Scripture students as 
the editor of a critical edition of the Greek New Testament, 
compresses into a small volume * the principles that at once 
guide and threaten the Catholic investigator into Biblical prob- 
lems. Naturally the author's arsenal is found in the Tridentine 
and Vatican decrees, and in Leo XIII.'s Providentissimus Deus, 
From these sources he lays down, with a great deal of precision 

• Wesen und PrincipUn der Bibdkritik auf Katholischer Grundlage. Von P. Michael Het- 
zenauer, O.C. Innspriick: Wagner'sche Universitats-Buchhandlung. 1900. 



:0 VIEWS AND REVIEWS. [Oct, 

d a not notably modest finality, the measure of freedom per- 
itted to Catholics who give themselves to the explaining of 
blical problems, whether in higher or in lower criticism. It is 
th this latter — that is to say, with textual criticism — that his 
>ok is especially concerned. Pere Hetzenauer is a rigid coa- 
rvative, and those who delight in the spectacle of advanced 
itholic scholars bleeding from the bludgeon of condemnation 
11 find in his pages many a reason for the hope that is in 
em. Others, who wish the field of open questions to be not 
rrowed but rather untrespassed by a zealous orthodoxy, will 
,d him sorrowful reading indeed. The last section of the vol- 
le is occupied with a discussion of the Joannine text of the 
iree Witnesses. P^re Hettenauer there leaves the question 
nost untouched upon critical grounds, but is very diffuse in 
oving that the memorable decree of the Inquisition in this 
Ltter is absolutely final and irrevocable, and literally binding. 

The book is written in a very clear and easy German style 
what there is of it not composed of Latin quotations from 
; Canones et Dtcreta — and would be a fit reference-book for 
: Scripture course of almost any Catholic seminary. In con- 
ision we cannot help observing that an author who gives a 
riptural bibliography which consists of exactly fifty-seven 
oks comes very near to achieving distinction for prodigious 
iiculousness. Nor is the diversion produced by the situation 

all composed by the naive remark that these were all the 
>rks in that department to be found in the library of the 
ithor's monastery at Innspriick. 

4. — A book of convenient size • giving the authors and the 
irks of the contemporary literature in French and Latin would 

a reference work which we might say no advanced student 
uld dispense with. But a condition absolutely necessary to 
: utility of such a bibliography is that it be complete, 
ithing is more irritating than to consult a work of an ency- 
ipxdic nature and find that it omits the very reference one 

seeking, though the compiler and publishers of the work 
ve given assurances that it exhausts the matter whereof one 
sires information. This deficiency is "a very grave one, and 
; regret to find it in this work of the Abbe Blanc. His de- 
n was so good, and the help he proposed to confer on stu- 

* R/ptrioirt Biiliogmpiigiit del Aiileun el .Its Oinr,igei Conlemporjim dr L.iagat Fraii(aiu 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 121 

dents so exceptionally valuable, that it is nothing else than a 
misfortune that he should have fallen short. Think of consult- 
ing the name of Louis Duchesne, and discovering among his 
writings no mention of the Liber Pontificalis ! Think of looking 
in vain under the Abb^ Loisy's name for any notice of his 
histories of the canon ! These are incredible oversights. We 
urge the Abb6 Blanc to revise his work at once. If it were 
but perfect in the field it aims to cover, it would be, as we 
have said, a desk-companion to every one whose studies take 
him into modern French or Latin literature. 

5 — Under the title of Jesus the Jew • Mr. Harris Wein- 
stock, of California, has published a series of addresses de- 
livered by him before the Stanford University. The general 
purpose of these addresses is to explain the attitude of the 
Jew in relation to the great religious questions with* which he 
is associated in the religious history of the world. David Starr 
Jordan, who writes the preface, while he says Mr. Weinstock 
is "a most worthy representative of the Jewish people in 
America," places him in the category of a "Jewish liberal." 
This is very evident from the tone of the addresses, many of 
which are a plea for a suppression of differences of a dogmatic 
sort and a recognition of what is good in both Christianity and 
Judaism. 

The theme of the first address is that it was Paul that 
broadened out Christianity and made it a world-wide religion 
for the Gentiles as well as the Jews. If Christ had his way, 
he would have preached only to the lost sheep of the fold of 
Israel. 

This thesis can scarcely be maintained in the face of the 
commission to the Apostles '* to preach the Gospel to every 
creature." The fact that the Son of God became Man to re- 
deem all mankind is written broad across the evangelistic writ- 
ings. He preached to the Jews and tried hard to call back 
the nation to the recognition of his Messiahship, but he was 
rejected. The official and authoritative statement of the high- 
priest, speaking for the nation, in the judgment hall of Pilate, 
when he said "We have no king but Caesar," was the final 
rejection of the Messias, and since then, as a nation, they have 
had no king nor any priesthood, and within a month after that 

• Jesui the Jetv, and Other Addresses, By Harris Weinstock. New York and London : 
Funk and Wagnalls Company. 



.i^ 



12a VIEWS AND Reviews, [Oct., 

rejection Jesus bade his followers to go out into the whole 
world and preach the Gospel to all mankind. His immediate 
foHowers were all Jews, and so Peter himself, and not Paul 
alone, went to Rome, the very seat of the Gentile power, and 
there preached Jesus and him crucified. " Had there been no 
Paul there would have been no Christianity," is just about as 
fictitious a statement as the one that closely follows it : " Had 
there been no Pilgrim Fathers there would have been no civil 
or religious liberty." Who persecuted so much for conscience' 
sake as the good old Pilgrim Fathers? 

As to the Messias, Mr. Weinstock says '' the educated and 
enlightened among the Jews who lived in the time of Jesus" 
looked not for a personal Messias but for " a Messianic age, 
for an ideal condition of society, a condition of universal pro- 
gress and peace." This impersonal Messianic thing hardly fits 
in with the words of the prophets, who tell of the Messias' 
birth from a Virgin, the circumstances of his life and death. 
The author hopes that the twentieth century will be the Mes- 
sias of the Jews, but the ordinary Jew is a too hard-headed, 
practical sort of an individual to believe that '' the ideal condi- 
tion of society, with universal progress and peace," will ever 
come. The entire book is interesting, thoughtful, and surely 
the product of a man of kindly heart and generous impulses. 

6. — We trust that the " Franciscan question " is not without 
students in the United States. As for Europe, what with 
magazines devoted to Franciscan research, the publication of 
critical editions of the Legenda VetuSy the Speculum Perfectionis^ 
and the Vita Prima of Thomas of Ceiano, and on top of these 
a ceaseless outpouring of books on the life and times of the 
Seraph of Assisi, the literature of the great founder promises to 
be as monumental as that upon his great countryman Dante. 
What is most astonishing is that this movement is the merest 
infant in years, despite its prodigious proportions. For after all 
is said, the neo-Franciscana begin with Paul Sabatier's ** Life," 
published only three or four, or perhaps half a dozen years 
ago. And since then the ** question " has become the laborious 
study of Da Capresi, Minocchi, Carmichael, Pulignani, Mandon- 
net, Ramorino, Barbi, Goetz, Da Civezza, Dominichelli, and 
who can say how many others ? The result has been that we 
now have a more full and accurate knowledge of St. Francis* 



I902.] Views and Revieivs. 123 

life than any others have hitherto possessed, since the death of 
the saint's own companions. From the point of view of historical 
criticism the great '' question " is to find the value as biographi- 
cal sources of the Legenda and of the Speculum Perfectionis. 
M. Sabatier has already published a critical study of the latter, 
and in the opusculum we are now reviewing he contributes a 
study of the former.* The " Legenda," as Franciscan students 
need not be informed, has been attributed from the beginning 
to three Companions of St. Francis, Brothers Leo, Rufinus, and 
Angelo. P^rc Van Ortroy denies this authorship out and out. 
He maintains that the " Legenda " is a pure fabrication of the 
Friars Minor, and dates from the end of the thirteenth century. 
Thus far no critical work has appeared in support of P. Van 
Ortroy, though many expressions of high praise and hearty 
welcome have been accorded it Paul Sabatier, however, has 
published an examination of this opinion in the Rpvue His* 
torique, which has dealt it some severe and perhaps fatal blows. 
Minocchi holds that the "Legenda" is not the work of the 
three Companions; but that nevertheless it is an historical 
source of the highest reliability. He says it is the work of one 
man and not a fragmentary compilation, and that its date must 
be assigned very close to St. Francis* time — in fact, as close as 
the " Vita Prima " of Thomas of Celano itself. Finally, M. 
Sabatier defends the position that the work is genuine but 
mutilated, and incorporated with many fragments which it is the 
office of criticism to search out. These fragments will be dis- 
covered, he declares, by an exhaustive comparative study of 
the *' Legenda " and the Speculum Perfectionis, For those 
whose scent is keen for historical mysteries, the great debate 
is of fascinating interest. Nowhere can one see the methods 
of modern scholarship working to greater advantage than in 
this apparently trifling matter. But to criticism nothing is 
trifling. And apart from criticism, these investigations into the 
least details of a great saint's life disclose much that is consoling 
in the temper of men's minds to-day. We feel like recommending 
to students of history this Franciscan literature as a very special 
object of study. To those who have engaged or will engage 
in such a study, the lately published pamphlet of M. Sabatier, 
which has been the occasion of this notice, will be indispensable. 

• Sancti Francisci Legends Veteris Fragmenta Queedam. Editit et notis illustravit Paul 
Sabatier. Paris : Librairie Fischbacker. 



124 Views and Reviews, [Oct, 

7. — Father Hedges' little pamphlet* of statistics concern- 
ing education in the Philippine Islands is very timely and 
welcome, and to those who have been led into believing the 
Filipinos to be hopelessly enveloped in mediaeval ignorance it 
will be very surprising as well. It is compiled from the Report 
of the United States Commissioner of Education 1899-19CX) and 
has been done with care and accuracy. It shows that education 
— higher, secondary, and elementary, in spite of its defects — 
was very well provided, and that the natives were not so much 
in need of the superior light of American intelligence as many 
would have us believe. Comparatively few Americans, perhaps, 
are aware that there is a university there, provided in 1887 
with a library of 12,000 volumes, and in which the views of 
such men as Kant, Comte, Taine, Wundt, Huxley, and Spencer 
are examined as well as those of Aristotle, Plato, and St. 
Thomas. Even more creditable is the showing made for second- 
ary education, and elementary education has received its own 
share of attention. In the latter a very important part is as- 
signed to that subject which seems to be of so little moment in 
the schools of our own country — morals. We wish that those who 
have depended for their information on press reports, private 
letters, and interviews would peruse Father Hedges' pamphlet, 
and it will be well for the cause of truth if it receive a wide 
circulation. 

8. — The Coast of Freedom f is a novel which contains much 
of fine writing, beautiful descriptions, and thrilling climaxes. 
The author is Adele M. Shaw, but in her preface she states 
that the book is equally the labor of her brother, Albert J. 
Shaw. There is sufficient merit in it for both to be satisfied 
with equal shares. Perhaps the best word of praise we can say 
in this short notice is that the Coast of Freedom is a thought- 
ful arid serious work, carrying with it a lesson of history and at 
the same time engaging even to the end the reader's attention 
by its atmosphere of love, romance, and tragedy. The plot is 
complex but not involved ; the dramatic situations are quite 
numerous but somewhat weakened by diffuseness. Captain 
Phips is pictured with historical accuracy. Roger Verring, the 

• Statistics concerning Education in the Philippine Islands. Co:ii])iled from the Repart of the 
United States ComTuissioner of Education 18^9-1903. By R'iv. S. Iledtjes. New York, Cin- 
cinnati, Chicago: Benzigcr Brothers. 

t The Coast of Freedom. By Adele Marie Shaw. New York : D«-)ubleday, Page & Co. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 125 

hero, is devoted and true, winning the reader's admiration by 
his fight against the '* narrowness of his people." The " Maid," 
portrayed without the wild exaggerations of the now popular 
heroine, is a strong, gracious, and delightful woman. Both are 
well chosen by the author as types of the early Americans who 
withstood even to death that ungodlike tyranny and religious 
bigotry of the early Puritans. 

9 — ^The character of this work • may be known from the 
fact that in a small volume of one hundred and twelve pages is 
compressed the history of England from the time of Julius Cssar 
to the reign of Edward VI. A general work of that kind, stat- 
ing the principal facts, would have its value for elementary 
schools. But we oannot commend the present one either for its 
accuracy or its judgment. No references are ever given. Minor 
details are inserted, important events omitted, and conclusions 
made that do not recommend the author as a great historian. 
The writing of condensed history, the summing up of an age in 
three hundred words, demands something akin to genius ; but 
the present endeavor gives no evidence of it. 

10. — Father Dale's manual f is well known to priests and 
others upon whom rests the care of the sanctuary. The fifth 
edition, enlarged and containing the latest decrees of the Con- 
gregation of Rites, has just been published. The manual is of 
particular value because, although small, it is based upon the 
most approved ceremonialists. Its advice to sacristans is very 
practical. 

11 — Ten Common Trees t is a little book which will be of 
service in stimulating the interest of children in the world of 
plant life. Anecdotes are mingled with the descriptions of a few 
of our common trees to awaken interest in a subject which is 
generally found very dry by children. Mainly intended for a 
supplementary school reader, it will also open the way to the 
study of botany. 

12. — Intemperance and impurity are the besetting sins of the 
race. To-day these vices rob thousands of their bodily vigor 

• A Catholic History of Our Country. Part I. By Mother Isabelle Kershaw. Retford : 
Apostoline Convent. 1901. 

t The Sacristan's Manual. By Rev. J. D. Hilarius Dale. New York : Benzigcr Brothers, 
t Ten Common Trees. By Susan Stokes. New York : American Book Company. 



126 Views and Reviews, [Oct, 

and spiritual life, often before the seal of manhood has been 
fully stamped upon the brow. Is there no hope for the help- 
less victims, no way to regain the strength and buoyancy of 
virtuous youth ? Father Jordans • finds succor for the afflicted at 
the shrine of Mary, the Help of Sinners, the Star of the Sea. 
He tells us of an efficacious prayer, taught by the Italian Father 
Nicholas Zucchi, S.J. (i 586-1670), offering, without reserve, tp 
our Queen and Mother our whole person, consecrating to her 
the organs of sense and the heart, and begging her to accept 
and defend us as her own property and possession. The book 
is filled with instances of the happy results of this devotion. 

13* — In From Hearth to Cloister ^ the author has admirably 
reproduced, from the work of an early biographer, the enter- 
taining narrative of Sir John and Lady Warner's conversion to 
the Catholic faith, and their entrance into religious life. 

Though short and simply told, the story is extremely in- 
teresting both for the light it throws on the divergence of 
belief which existed in the Anglican Church as far back as 
the reign of Charles II., and for its portrayal of the tenacity 
with which the English people clung to Catholic practices and 
traditions. The book will, we think, prove pleasant reading 
to the general reader, and particularly to those interested in 
English church history. 

14. — To those who are engaged in the study of history and 
theology, and to all who delight in entertaining and instructive 
reading, Mr. Walter Lowrie's volume { will be welcome. It is 
designed to give a general view of the monuments of the early 
church, comprising all branches of Christian art and archaeology. 
Sections are devoted to the Catacombs, Christian architecture, 
pictorial art, the minor arts (Eucharistic vessels, lamps, censers, 
etc.), and a chapter on Civil and Ecclesiastical Dress is added. 

Although the author is not a Catholic, he writes with sym- 
pathy and refers often to the works of Catholics — De Rossi, 
Wilpert, and others. His book is the best manual we have on 

• The Danger of Youth and a tried Antidote. By Rev. Joseph Jordans, S.J. [From the 
German). St. Louis : B. Herder. 

• t From Hearth to Cloister: A narrative of Sir John and Lady Warner's so-much-wondered- 
at resolution to leave the Anglican Church and to enter the religious life. By Frances Jack- 
son. New York : Benziger Brothers. 

X. Monuments of the Early Church, By Walter Lowrie. New York; The Macmillan 
Company. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 127 

the subject. Ecclesiastical students especially will find it of 
immense value. The volume is supplied with an extensive 
bibliography and an index. 

16. — ^The publication of selections from Father Faber's writ- 
ings is a good work, both because of the thought contained 
in the selections themselves and because they will be an incen- 
tive to forming a further and wider acquaintance with the 
works of that popular author. The selections in the present 
booklet* are concerned with Our Lady and the Eucharist, and 
are well made. 

16. — ^The lover of the novel built upon the Biblical ffistory 
of the Jewish people will find Miss McLaws' latest contribution 
to the literary world f not without interest. The plot is laid in 
the time of Elias the Prophet when Amri and Ahab were kings 
of Israel. The facts are taken from the Third Book of Kings 
and placed in a setting which bears witness to the fertility of 
the writer's imagination. The central figure of the tale is 
Jezebel, Ahab's queen, who, persisting in her determination to 
worship Baal and to rule the destinies of the Israelites, comes 
into conflict with Elias the Prophet. Ruth^ the daughter of 
Naboth, whom Jezebel fears as a possible rival to her throne, 
lends the romantic interest to the book, which, moreover, is 
replete with persecutions, intrigues, bloodshed, thunder of arms, 
and dramatic climaxes. The tale bears testimony of the drama- 
tic tendencies of the authoress, who at times writes rather in- 
volved sentences and is also inclined to be . too realistic in her 
descriptions. 

17. — A notable contribution to John Morley's ** English Men 
of Letters '' is this sketch of George Eliot by Leslie Stephen.^ 
Mr. Stephen's work is both critical and biographical. For the 
latter part he had but poor materials to work upon, and in 
fact George Eliot's life was, for the general public, rather un- 
interesting because it was uneventful. Mr. Stephen, however, 
gives us all its important points, and finds some noteworthy 
passages in her otherwise dull private letters. 

* Our Lady and the Eucharist. Selections from Father Faber. By the Rev. Jolin Fitzpat- 
rick. O.M.I. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benziger Brothers. 

\ Jezebel: A Romance in the Days when Ahab was Kin^ of Israel. By Lafayette McLaws. 
Boston : Lothrop Publishing Company. 

\ George Eliot, By Leslie Stephen. New York : The Macmillan Com])any. 



128 Views and Reviews. [Oct., 

As a literary critic Mr. Stephen is capable and impartial. In 
the analysis of George Eliot's characters and their presentation he 
does not hide, however, his personal tastes and predilections. We 
must always remember the old Latin proverb about the tastes of 
men. It applies to literature as well as to other matters. Mr. 
Stephen cannot be said to be an enthusiastic admirer of George 
Eliot, yet he gives her no small measure of praise. He writes that 
she possessed '' a singularly wide and reflective intellect, a union 
of keen sensibility with a thoroughly tolerant spirit, a desire to 
appreciate all the good hidden under the commonplace and the 
narrow, a lively sympathy with all the nobler aspirations, a vivid 
insight into the perplexities and delusions which beset even the 
strongest minds, a brilliant power of wit, at once playful and 
pleasant, and if we must add, a rather melancholy view of life 
in general, a melancholy which is not nursed for purposes of 
display but forced upon a fine understanding by the view of a 
state of things which we must admit does not altogether lend 
itself to a cheerful optimism/' The last statement, let us say, 
is somewhat beyond the office of a literary critic. 

About George Eliot's religion, Mr. Stephen says that she 
never denied God, but throughout her life practically ignored 
him. Mr. Stephen's estimate will be read with interest and with 
profit, and no doubt will give rise to further discussion as to 
George Eliot's place in literature. 

18. — Sally Cavanagh* is an interesting tale whose scene, as 
the subtitle tells, is laid in Tipperary. It is a simple story of 
poverty, sin, suffering, love, and loyalty, with here and there a 
dash of humor ; and though written by one who had every 
reason to hate the government which so unjustly ruled his 
country, the book is not at all incendiary in tone, but breathes 
a spirit of forbearance. The style of language, and the fidelity 
with which the scenes .are depicted and the characters portrayed, 
are quite worthy of the distinguished author. Nor could these 
pages have come from one unfamiliar with the Irish character. 
A not uninteresting personage is introduced to us as " Matt 
Hazlett, a staunch Protestant who used to quote Scripture 
against Father O'Gorman, and send him presents of vegetables." 
The reader's sense of humor will be satisfied by the glimpses 

• Sally Cavanagh ; or, The Unten.inted Graves. A Tale of Tippcriiry. New York : Ben- 
liger Brothers. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 129 

given of Shawn Gow's domicile ; while his credulity will be 
tested by the account of a fox-hunt which has its laughable 
side too. The book is filled with dialogues which, of course, 
will be recognized as "true to nature." 



DE COSTA'S " FROM CANTERBURY TO ROME." * 

There is no kind of writing that is so attractive as that 
which gives the inner life history of an earnest soul. The rea- 
son of this fact probably is, that inasmuch as our own intimate 
selves are our deepest concern, we are intensely interested when 
we find our own experiences duplicated in the lives of others. 
Dr. B. F. De Costa has given us something of an autobiogra- 
phy in his From Canterbury to Rome^ and yet it has none of 
the pretensions of an autobiography. It is the story of reli- 
gious yearnings simply told. It is the account of a life-long 
search for religious peace and rest plainly given. Herein lies 
its charm. The doctor has waited till he has had two full 
years of the Catholic Church, and has known her thoroughly 
from the inside, and he speaks of this experience as '' most 
satisfactory and happy." 

Dr. De Costa was born, of a Huguenot father, in Boston. 
His mother was a baptized Catholic, though when the doctor 
entered the Episcopal Church as a young man his mother fol- 
lowed him. He says "he owed everything to his mother," 
and among these things probably was his life- long leaning 
towards the Catholic Church. In early life he developed a 
fondness for the great fundamental truths of Christianity, and 
this was intensified by an inner protest against the sceptical 
spirit of Unitarianism that prevailed in Boston during his young 
manhood. He says: "As a preacher I was not more Ortho- 
dox than when almost an uninformed lad. And now as a 
Catholic I am no more zealous for sound doctrine than when a 
preacher, though well persuaded that there is a better under- 
standing to-day of what constitutes the form of sound words." 
It is very evident to any one who is at all acquainted with 
the variations of dogma in the Episcopal Church that a man 

^ From Canterbury to Rome. With notes of travel in Europe and the East, showing the 
gradual formation of Catholic belief and steps taken in passing out of the Protc.^stant com- 
munion into the Catholic Church. By B. F. De Costa. Pp.499. New York: Christian 
Press Publishing Company. 

VOL. LXXVI.— 9 



I30 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. [Oct 

who loved orthodoxy could find no peaceful resting place for 
his soul therein. That Dr. De Costa stayed so long in the 
city of confusion is only another evidence of the difficulty of 
freeing one's self from the trammels of one's education and 
life-long associations. A recent review of this same book — 
New York Times, Saturday, September 13 — speaks of the "spir- 
itual gyrations *' of this uneasy spirit. " Gyrations," in the 
dictionary sense of the word, means "to be constantly turn- 
ing." It is a tribute to Dr. De Costa's extraordinary steadfast- 
ness of purpose, that with the intimate knowledge of the mar- 
vellous diversity of doctrinal teaching among the leaders of 
Episcopalianism he was able to remain in full communion with 
them during a long life, and it is no mark of "an uneasy 
spirit" in a truth loving soul that when things were getting so 
extraordinarily confounded that he beat the dust off his feet 
and came where he hoped to find, and has found, peace and 
rest. An old man past his three scor-e years and ten does not 
break his life in two and cast behind him friends and salary 
and social position except he is impelled thereto by some pro- 
found conviction, and he deserves a better appellation from an 
honest reviewer than the flippantly passed word of "pervert." 
Moral courage is admirable wherever it is found, and when the 
truth is sought for and embraced at the cost of the best things 
that this life affords, it lifts a man into the atmosphere of the 
heroic and makes him akin to the knight of old in his search 
for the Holy Grail, who revered his conscience as his king. 

The spirit in which Dr. De Costa writes is kindly. The 
book is full of expressions of love and veneration for those 
who had been his life companions. In the preface he says 
that he "entertains only the kindliest feelings towards persons 
of different belief, and especially his former co-religionists, for 
whom he must ever cherish the most respectful regard." 

The book will serve as the measure of the man, and while 
there is not even a little bit of the " holier than thou " spirit 
of many autobiographies, there is abundant evidence of the 
genuine, straightforward, manly man, who has the courage of 
his convictions, and who is ready to sacrifice everything that 
the world values in order that his life may be an outward sig^n 
of an inward grace. 



9( 
4« 


9^ 


9( 


Xibtarie tTable. 


» 


» 


1 ' 

m ^ 

m ^ 



TAe Tablet (2 August) : Roman Correspondent speaks of the 
happy termination of the negotiations between the United 
States and the Holy See with regard to the Philippines. 
(9 August) : Mr. Arthur Moore gives a full account of 
the trial of the Greek assailants of the Franciscans in 
Jerusalem, and shows the grave nature of the diplomatic 
rebuff which has been inflicted on France by the action 
of Germany and Italy. 

(23 August) : Publishes a letter from Fr. Beale announc- 
ing that he has returned the brief which conferred on 
him the dignity of Protonotary Apostolic, and apologiz- 
ing for his previous refusal to do so. States that Mr. 
John W. Mackay received the consolations of religion 
before his death. 

The Critical Review (July) : Rev. H. R. Mackintosh, in an 
article entitled Lotze's Philosophy and its Theological In- 
fluence, maintains that Lotze has given a powerful and 
salutary impulse to philosophy in various departments, 
and has merited special praise for resuming the dis- 
credited problems of speculation in an age so decidedly 
adverse to metaphysics. His influence and theological 
thought, however, has been of a very different character. 
Some frankly declare it to have been pernicious and ob- 
scurantist. The reviewer offers reasons for the confidence 
and deference shown to Lotze by some theologians in 
recent years. 

Revue du Clerge Franfais (15 August): P. Turmel sketches the 
career of Thomassinus, and the character of his writings. 
His great work, nominally on Benefices, rendered him 
suspected of heresy because he recorded certain historical 
facts apparently inconsistent with papal prerogatives. His 
De Incarnatione, despite various defects and questionable 
assertions, won great praise and he was offered a cardi- 
nal's hat and a Roman residence, but Louis XIV. inter- 
fered. So he died a simple religious in the Congregation 
of the Oratory. 



132 Library Table. [Oct, 

P. Bricout laments that after having given promise of 
a conciliatory policy M. Loubet should have entrusted an 
important post to M. Combes, so little conciliatory and 
so determined to be extreme that he employs illegal 
and arbitrary means in his action against the religious 
schools. Far worse legislation is going to be enacted if 
popular opposition does not prevent it. Hence the need 
of united action. 

Apropos of Quo Vadisy H. Hemmer remarks that Pro- 
fessor Pascal, of Milan, has undertaken to relieve Nero of 
the charge of burning Rome and to fasten it upon the 
Christians ; an anonymous reply refutes Pascal and criti- 
cises Renan and the "critical school" generally. 

M. demurs to P. Gayraud's criticism of P. Durand's 
opinion concerning the inerrancy of Scripture, 
(i Sept.): P. Bricout writes upon the measures taken by 
thjB French government against the Catholic schools, and 
counsels immediate and stubborn resistance by means of 
a popular agitation which will be at the same time de- 
termined, loyal, and constitutional. 

Commenting upon the abuse of devotional practices by 
Catholics, P. Despreux praises the spirit of Fr. Tyrrell's 
External Religion (now translated into French) and men- 
tions a valuable little brochure {Abus dans la devotion ; 
Paris: Lethiellieux) containing many valuable documents 
and much precious information about current abuses. 
£tudes (5 Aug.): P. Brucker comments as follows upon M. 
Houtin's recent history of Scripture-study among French 
Catholics during the nineteenth century. M. Houtin 
gives no evidence of having worked personally and at 
length over the various Scriptural problems, nor of hav- 
ing read as much as he should have read. His book is 
neither complete enough, nor faithful enough, and too 
frequently it resembles a caricature. 

P. Andre Bremond says that while in England 
Shakspere is regarded as a classic, French opinion is 
all the other way. Yet it may be that in some respects 
the French are unjust to the great Will ; and " if we 
were less exclusively Latin, more familiar with the Greek 
wisdom which is liberty, while ours imposed by the hard 
discipline of Rome is constraint, then perchance this 



1902.] Library Table. 133 

old Saxon would appear to us less Saxon^ but more truly 
and profoundly human." 

(20 Aug.) : P. Brucker declares that upon reconsidera- 
tion he has come to the conclusion that Scriptural ex- 
egesis gives no ground for rejecting the claims of the 
Turin Winding Sheet to be considered genuine. P. 
Hamy advances reasons for believing Joliet and Mar- 
quette to have been the first discoverers of the Mis- 
sissippi. 

LUnivers (2 July): The Roman Correspondent in this and the 
two subsequent issues reports an interview with Bishop 
0*Gorman concerning the flourishing condition of Catholi- 
cism in America, and the nature and success of "the 
non-Catholic Missions." In treating of the prosperous 
condition of the American Church he speaks of its most 
satisfactory relations with the government of the United 
States, the mutual sympathy of the Catholic clergy and 
the whole American people, and the prominent part 
played by great Catholic prelates in the social and poli- 
tical movements of the country. He also quotes at 
length from the very remarkable leUer on the same sub- 
ject addressed by His Holiness Leo XHI. to Cardinal 
Gibbons last April. This is followed by a concise and ac- 
curate account of ** the non-Catholic Missions." 

Revue de Lille (July) : M. Delpierre gives the reasons for M. 
Copp^e's conversion to the Catholic Church. 

Studi Religiosi (July-August) : An article of momentous im- 
portance, signed simply X., discusses the " historical 
veracity of the Hexateuch." The author's position may 
be thus stated : It is a fact that the Bible is true. 
Veracity is inseparable from inspiration, as the ProvU 
dentissimus Deus declares. But a critical study of the 
Hexateuch makes it clear that these books are not 
throughout strictly and scientifically historical, as we 
now understand historical truth. It seems indisputable 
that about some great characters, like Abraham or Ismael, 
and Josue, a mass of historical matter is formed which 
properly is the record of a whole tribe and not of these 
individuals. Therefore the sacred history, while true, is 
not so in our rigid modern, critical meaning of the word. 
Now, just when the inspired writers themselves abso- 



134 LIBRARY Table. [Oct., 

lately vouch for a fact, or when they merely present it 
in all those circumstances which take away from its rigid 
accuracy, this is the business of criticism to determine. 
Theology and faith are respected by the general admission. 
The Bible is true. How it is true, in what sense, and 
under what conditions — this is the office of the critic to 
determine. 

Revue des Questions Scientifiques (20 July) : M. le Mis de Nadail- 
lac draws principally on the investigations, which are pro- 
gressing quietly, in the study of prehistoric man in America 
to show that beside the three generally known and accepted 
ages of stone, of bronze and of iron, there was, between 
the age of stone and that of bronze, an .ititervening age 
of copper. 

That before the time of Columbus, on the arrival of 
Irish missionaries, there were to be found among the 
natives of Yucatan and neighboring Central American 
countries crucifixes and other signs and emblems of 
Christian belief, is a fact which is brought out more 
clearly by the investigations of M. E. Beauvois. 

The Holy Shroud of Turin again comes up for dis- 
cussion in an article which takes the position of the 
French savants who performed and fathered the investiga- 
tions, namely, that all of the scientific data points to its 
authenticity. Dr. Paul Vignon is in hopes of obtaining 
the authorization, at the hands of the King of Italy, of 
an official commission to renew the study. 

La Revue Genirale (Aug.) : V. MuUer contributes a favorable re- 
view of the fourth French edition of Bishop Spalding's 
Opportunity, The article is comprised of commentaries on 
the leading thoughts contained in the essay Opportunity. 
The approbation of Cardinal Perraud and Abb^ Planus 
for Bishop Spalding's work is cited, and the following is 
quoted from the Bishop of Autun : " I particularly ap- 
preciate the two essays, 'The Vital Mission of the 
University ' and * The Higher Education of the Priest' " 

Civilta Cattolica (5 July) : Speaking of the coercive power of 
the church, says that it is de fide ; but that theologians 
differ as to whether or not that power includes the right 
to inflict capital punishment ; the writer advises that 
those who expose religion should abstain from treating 



I902.] Library Table. 135 

inopportune questions. Discussing Tolstoi's religion says 
it is a spurious Christianity which excludes God; yet 
nevertheless some comfort is to be taken from the fact 
that men like Tolstoi, Harnack, and RafTaele Mariano 
cling to the name of Christ. 

(16 Aug.): Discussing strikes, points out that sometimes 
they may be undertaken for altogether insufficient rea- 
sons, and remarks how closely the Socialists have been 
identified themselves with certain strikers. 
(6 Sept.): Notes how the little catechism of Bellarmine, 
used in Rome for three hundred years, has been restored 
to use again, experiment having shy>wn that no other 
catechism is better suited for the instruction of the 
young and unlettered. 

Rassegna NazionaU (i Aug.): O. Rudolph gives an account of 
Prof. Ehrhard's book "Catholicism and the Twentieth 
Century." The book traces the history of the church's 
-growth into mediaeval Catholicism, and advocates the 
getting rid of the remaining characteristics peculiar to 
mediae valism, and the alliance of Catholicism with mod- 
ern culture. So many criticisms of Prof, Ehrhard have 
appeared that he has made answer in a ne# book, Liberal 
Catholicism. O. Rudolph declares Prof. Ehrhard's spirit to 
be tranquil, noble, conciliatory, unprejudiced, and historical. 

Raz6n y Fe (Aug.) : In this and the subsequent number P. 
Murillo replies to the charge that since the birth of 
Protestantism the Latin nations have gone steadily down- 
wards, the Germans and Anglo-Saxons steadily upwards 
in the scale of civilization. He pays particular attention 
to the history of Spain. 

(Sept.): P. Casellas writes on the late Spanish- American 
war, dating his contribution New York, July 2, 1902, 
He expresses surprise that the Spanish press has main- 
tained silence about the important diplomatic messages 
made public in America in June, 1901, and which 
" reveal the perfidy of President McKinley." A resume 
follows taken from the St. Louis Review^ the Philadelphia 
Record^ and the New York Evening Post. 



The opening of the Apostolic Mission House 

The NewApoB- at Washington is an event of unusual im- 

tolio Mission portance in the ecclesiastical world. Its defi- 

nite purpose is the training of diocesan 
priests to be missionaries to n on- Catholics. The inauguration 
of this institution is the first flowering of the movement, now 
ten years did, which has had for its aim the preaching of 
Catholic truth to those who are outside the fold. It is not 
yet time to write history, or even to be reminiscent — inasmuch 
as this great movement is but at its inception. Twenty-five 
years from now, when a new generation of priests who have 
been trained under the influence of its ideas shall have come 
as laborers into the vineyard of the Lord, will be time enough 
to note the changes that have been wrought in the practical 
policies of church work. 

The great theological facts, that the Catholic Church is the 
ark of salvation for all mankind, that the commission that was 
given by the Divine Master to the Apostles and their suc- 
cessors was to preach the Gospel to every creature, are be- 
coming practical verities. The time was when the statement 
that *' we have enough to do to look out after our own " fell 
thoughtlessly from the lips of some of the leaders, and the 
work of the church was intentionally confined to those who 
were baptized into her fold. But now a broader policy pre- 
vails. The church is no longer confining her treasures to the 
children of the household, but she is opening wide her doors 
and bidding all that pass by the way to put on the wedding 
garment and to sit down at the great banquet of doctrine and 
devotion that is spread in the Master*s house. 

There is no manner of doubt concerning the great mission 
the church has placed before her in these United States. Prot- 
estantism is manifesting many signs of a rapid decadence. 
Evangelicalism is on the wane. It is absolutely necessary that 
there be in the hearts of the people some strong spirit of re- 
ligion if the institutions of the country are going to persist, 
and if America herself is going to do the great work that is 
allotted to her among the nations of the world. The Catholic 



I902.] Comment on Current Topics. 137 

Church, with her forceful life, her splendid organization, her 
wide-reaching influence, and her growing power, is well fitted 
to do the work of keeping alive the spirit of religion among all 
classes of the people. 

But apart from patriotic and national reasons, the mere fact 
of saving souls compels the church to address herself to the 
eagef crowds who are hungering for the Bread of life. The 
work, therefore, of preaching to non- Catholics is well started. 
It is organized on a broad, practical basis. It is placed at the 
door of the great body of workers in the Church — the diocesan 
clergy. If the bishop's priests as a body do not square them- 
selves to this great work, it will never succeed. They are both 
the rank and the file of the church's army ; the religious orders 
are the flying columns that may be utilized for special work. 
To make, therefore, the preaching of the Gospel to the Ameri- 
can people a church work, it must be undertaken by the dioce- 
san clergy. Herein lies the raison d'etre of the Apostolic Mis- 
sion House that is just opening its doors at the Catholic Uni- 
versity. It is to train the diocesan clergy to be missionaries to 
non- Catholics. 

Father Elliott has been selected to take charge for the 
opening year in order to start the work aright. He hopes by 
that time that the permanent rector, a representative of the 
diocesan clergy, will be found to take up the burden. Many 
of the Archbishops have personally urged the appointment of 
Father Elliott inasmuch as he has been the father of the mis- 
sions to non- Catholics, and he has had, moreover, many years 
of choice experience in this particular field of labor. 

There is no doubt concerning the future. The work has the 
fullest approbation of the Hierarchy. It has the approval of 
Rome. It has the commendation of the great Catholic body, 
for no sooner was the project launched than many donations 
were made to support it. It has, finally, the blessing of unusual 
success in its early efforts to secure results. 

The crusade that Father Wynne started and 

The Incident of carried on with so much vigor against the 

Appletons* Cy olo- ^ , , . , , 1 r 

psDdia. ^^'^^ statements of our standard books of 

reference, and particularly against Appletons' 
Universal Cyclopcedia and Atlas^ in his recent article on " Poisoning 
the Wells," has done a great deal to arouse Catholics to a 



138 Comment on Current Topics. [Oct., 

sense of the many injustices that they suffer at the hands of 
scholarly men who simply perpetuate opinions that they have 
formed without looking into their truthfulness. There is abun- 
dant evidence of the way in which the Catholic people have 
resented these injustices, and particularly have they been awak- 
ened in this present instance to the glaring faults of Appletons' 
Cyclopaedia. 

But in the very heat of the contest we have received word 
that the fight is off. Now, to be frank, we think that Father 
Wynne has capitulated too quickly. He publishes a letter from 
the head of the Appleton house which is in many ways un- 
satisfactory. We have great admiration for Father Wynne's 
earnestness, but it was a disappointment to find that, while 
bearing a standard as the leader of a very useful crusade, he 
has struck his flag so quickly. 

In the letter of William W. Appleton reference is made only to 
"Catholic articles." What Father Wynne complained of, and 
justly, were the non-Catholic articles. In his statements in 
" Poisoning the Wells " his contention is against an article on the 
"Reformation" by George P. Fisher, Professor of Ecclesiastical 
History in Yale ; various articles on historical subjects by Rev. S. 
M. Jackson, the editor^n- charge of the General Church History; 
the article on Humanism by A. R. Marsh, on the Middle Ages 
by John W. Burgess, on Monachism by Rev. A. C. McGiffert. 
Not one of these can strictly be called " Catholic articles." We 
venture to say that it never entered the mind of the editors of 
the Cyclopaedia to submit such articles to Archbishop Keane. 

There is a very graceless , and ungenerous effort made in the 
last paragraph of the aforesaid letter to shift the blame on to the 
shoulders of Archbishop Keane. We are quite sure that the 
Archbishop will not deign to answer the attack. But we have taken 
the pains to inquire into the relations of Archbishop Keane to 
the Cyclopaedia, and we are able to state authoritatively that they 
are just these : At times various batches of proofs were sent to 
the Archbishop on professedly Catholic subjects, like Indulgences, 
and these were revised and returned. The choice of articles 
sent to him was made by the editors, and it was within their 
competency to send or not send. Archbishop Keane is respon- 
sible for the aTticles that he has revised, and none other. 

The contention is, we repeat, against the anti- Catholic bias 
of the historical articles and of the other articles only remotely 



I902.] Comment on Current Topics. 139 

touching on Catholic things. It was on these Father Wynne 
based his strenuous crusade, and concerning these the Appletons 
profess no regrets and have made no promise of amendment. 

The situation that has been made by the 

The Strike inthe miners' strike calls for a leader who will re- ' 
Anthracite Coal 

Mines. present the public. It is now thoroughly 

understood in every great industrial difficulty 
that there are three parties — the employers, the employees, and 
the public. The last of these three is the least guilty of any 
injustice, and it is invariably the one who suffers the most. 
Because it is a huge impersonal thing, without any very well 
defined rights, there is no one to speak for it. It is only when 
it is thoroughly aroused that it speaks for itself at the ballot- 
box. When it does it voices its sentiments in no uncertain 
way. 

But while awaiting the day of the ballot-box there should 
be some tribunal that would speak for the public. 

The operators continue in a most complacent way to say 
there is nothing to arbitrate. The miners are with grim de- 
termination holding out. While they are enduring no end of 
privations, they are trying to keep the rasher spirits in check, 
so that no stigma of lawlessness may be cast on them. In the 
meantime the great American public looks on and is powerless 
to do anything. The schools in many places must be closed, 
for there is no coal ahead. The wheels of a considerable 
portion of the machinery must be stopped because of the ex- 
aggerated prices that must be paid for coal. The shopkeepers 
all through the coal region must go out of business because 
there is no money to spend. 

The long-suffering public is victimized, and there is no one 
to speak and no apparent way out of the difficulty. 

 

A. P. Doyle. 



140 The Columbian Reading Union. [Oct, 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

ONLY fifty years ago the first public tax-supported library in the United 
States was founded at Boston ; and less than a dozen years ago was 
opened the first children's room in a public library. Such is the statement 
made by Hiller C. Wellmann in the September Atlantic Monthly* According 
to the same writer systematic co-operation between the public library and the 
schools was begun in 1879 at Worcesteri Mass. 

It is not advisable to turn young people loose with unrestricted access to 
books many of which are entirely unsuited to childhood ; and to select a library 
with a view to giving children absolutely equal privileges with adults would re- 
sult in rendering it valueless to the latter. Indeed, due consideration for older 
readers should prevent the thronging of the delivery desk with the hordes of 
youngsters who sometimes compose from a third to a half of the library client- 
age. 

The far-reaching influence of books upon child-nature is hardly realized, in 
spite of all that has been written on the subject. Recently a boy of eleven ap- 
peared dull and uninterested in anything, and in school he was called stupid. 
One day, through his teacher, the boy got hold of Thompson- Seton's fascin- 
ating Wild Animals I Have Known, He read the book eagerly, and came to 
the library for others. So marked a change took place in the boy that his 
teachers expressed surprise at his sudden access of interest in lessons, and his 
mother came to the library for the express purpose of telling us of the great 
awakening which had come to her boy through books. 

Great as is their power in broadening and stimulating the young intellect, 
books have a still stronger influence on the moral nature. For to the child 
there are three sources of infallibility — parent, teacher, and printed book ; and 
the standards of right and wrong pervading the books read go far toward form- 
ing youthful ideals. Examples of moral courage strengthen the pliable nature ; 
even the time-worn rescue of the cat from the band of tormenting boys doubt- 
less helps to create an abhorrence of cruelty, and the prodigious deeds of valor 
performed by many a youthful hero may stouten the heart of the admiring 
reader. So, too, a boy may be quick to cry fie if in real life a playmate be 
guilty of meanness, but if in a book — as sometimes happens — trickiness and 
deceit are exhibited as excusable or smart, his ideal of honor is exposed to seri- 
ous injury. 

While opinions may differ as to censorship on the part of a library in deal- 
ing with adults, there can hardly be disagreement as to the importance of the 
utmost care in the choice of books purveyed to children. Too often the books 
owned by the average child, even in good circumstances, are acquired at Christ- 
mas, the gift of an undiscriminating uncle or aunt whose eye has been caught 
by the illustrations at a bargain counter ! The books frequently present 
neither good literature nor good morals. No such laxity can be charged to 
the conscientious children's librarian. She regards her work with due — the 
carping bibliographer says with undue — seriousness. For her the professional 
library schools have established a special course of training fitting her to work 
with children. Before admitting a book to the collection she examines it with 
scrupulous care, aiming to purchase for recreative reading only those which are 
entertaining, wholesome in tone, and decently well written. As to the inter- 
est of a book, she is not content with her own judgment solely, but often con- 
sults the opinions of the children themselves. So important is this matter of 
selection considered, that librarians are at work compiling a co-operative list of 
children's books which shall have the benefit of the criticism and experience of 



I902.] The Columbian Reading Union. 141 

many experts. Having gathered a suitable collection of books, the intelligent 
librarian studies her children individually, stimulates their interest, and by 
tactful suggestion and various devices strives to cultivate in them healthy tastes 
and the habit of systematic reading. 

It must not be supposed, however, that the somewhat elaborate provision 
for the needs of children commonly made by the larger libraries has in the 
least made unnecessary the use of the library by the schools. Rather has it 
intensified their community of interest. The importance of leading the chil- 
dren to the library itself is emphasized lest, if accustomed to receiving library 
books at the schools only, they cease their reading, as most of them drop all 
study by the end of the grammar-school course. But the librarian can employ 
no truant officer : he can reach directly only the children who enter his doors. 
He needs the active aid of the teachers to reach all the children of the com- 
munity, most of whom, once tasting books, make permanent readers. He 
needs also the aid of the wise teacher, who has perhaps the greatest opportun- 
ity to stimulate interest in the best books. 

For a distinctly different purpose the library most depends on the co- 
operation of the schools ; that is, for the prosecution of what, for lack of 
a better term, is called reference work with children. Much of the library 
activity described above is devoted to the single end of offering good books to 
children for the purpose of cultivating in them the so-called reading habit, — an 
offensive term suggestive of the opium habit or the alcohol habit, — let us 
rather say, of acquainting them with the pleasures of reading and fostering a 
refined taste. By reference work, on the other hand, is meant the effort 
to teach the use of books as sources of information. Thus, while in the former 
case we are concerned largely with the literature of power, in the latter we are 
dealing with the literature of knowledge ; and in this direction lies a wide and 
rich field to be developed. 

Unfortunately, not only to children, but to a large part of the adult com- 
munity, the library often represents merely a storehouse of entertaining books, 
as is evinced by the fact that commonly some three-fourths of the volumes bor- 
rowed are works of fiction. It is astonishing to discover what a trackless 
wilderness the library shelves beyond those containing fiction appear to some 
of the most frequent borrowers. 

One of the earliest experiments in giving systematic instruction to school 
children at the library was made in 1896 at Cardiff, Wales. There the pupils 
of all the elementary schools — that is, children from ten to fourteen years of 
age — were taken once a year to the library, in parties numbering about forty, 
to receive an illustrated lesson from the librarian upon some definite subject. 
The topic chosen the first year was The History of a Book, and the proceedings 
cannot be better described than by extracts from an account read before the 
Library Association of the United Kingdom by the librarian, Mr. John 
Ballinger : 

We didn't tell the children we were going to give them a lesson on the 
history of a book, or that we were going to give them a lesson at all. We 
started by saying that we were going to show them different kinds of books, 
and then beginning with a clay tablet, of which we had one genuine specimen 
(Babylonian) and one cast (Assyrian) made from an original in the British 
Museum, we proceeded to show how the book and the art of writing and read- 
ing had gradually developed. We explained to them the papyrus books of 
ancient Egypt, using as illustrations the beautiful reproductions of papyri pub- 
lished by the trustees of the British Museum. We explained to them also that 
there had been different kinds of letters used to denote sounds, showing them 
the difference between cuneiform writing and the picture writing of Egypt. 
We also dealt with books written upon vellum, using by way of illustration 
various MSS. and deeds belonging to the library. Passing from the written to 
the printed book, we explained a few elementary facts about the early history 
of printing and about early printing in England, using as illustrations four or 
five books printed before the year 1500. 



142 The Columbian Reading Union, [Oct., 1902.] 

Some time ago Everett T. Tomlinson published in the Atlantic Monthly 
an article on Reading for Boys and Girls. He stated that the receptive, rather 
than the perceptive, faculties are stronger in the youthful mind. Memory, 
unlike all other good things, seems to be at its best soon after it is born, 
although for some reason, which no one but the theologian is able to explain, 
the evil is retained somewhat more easily than the good. Fancy is at work 
preparing the way for the imagination, the emotional life is stronger than the 
will, and the moral faculties are vivid, though undisciplined and misleading. 
The youthful mind is not analytic, is receptive rather than perceptive, and 
seeks the reasonable more than the process of reasoning. 

In the attempts, conscious and unconscious, which have been made to 
meet these demands, much yet remains to be done, for literature for the young 
may be said to be still in its preliminary stages Its beginning dates back 
scarcely more than two generations. Before it is considered in detail, it may 
be well to note one change which has already become apparent, and that is the 
disappearance of the distinction between books for boys and those for girls. A 
few years ago this difference was marked, and books for girls were almost as 
numerous as those for boys. To-day the latter far outnumber the former, and 
there is every prospect that the distinction will almost, if not completely, dis- 
appear. And the explanation is not difficult to find. 

To day, while few boys can be found who will read books written especially 
for girls, the converse is markedly true, and the sisters read their brothers' 
books almost with the avidity of the boys themselves. And the cause is plain. 
The days when girls remained indoors and worked samplers and guarded their 
complexions have ceased to be. Over the golf links and on the tennis courts 
the boys and girls contend together. At every college game girls are present, 
and follow the contestants with an interest and understanding as keen as that of 
their brothers. In schools and colleges for girls, crews and basket-ball teams 
are common to-day. All this has had a marked effect upon the character of 
the books they read, as well as upon the lives they live, and as a natural con- 
sequence the literature which appeals to the one class is not without interest to 
the other. 

As an illustration of this fact, one of our most prominent librarians re- 
cently issued a list of the sixty-eight favorite books of a young maiden of 
twelve. In this list of sixty-eight titles, twenty-seven were of books written 
especially for boys, only eight were of books for girls, and all of the others 
were of works equally well adapted to either class. It is altogether probable 
that this girl instead of being an exception is fairly representative. 

A recent conference with several prominent librarians concerning the 
books most in demand by boys and girls reveals the fact that two classes 
appeal most strongly to them. Foremost in demand is the historical story, 
and this seems to combine most of the elements required by the American 
boy. Its basis is truth, and yet it appeals to his love of action, it stimulates 
his imagination ; in it his own unexpressed longings and desires find utterance, 
and it instructs without the appearance of talking down. It provides legitimate 
excitement, recounts adventures, and clothes the dry bones with flesh and 
blood. And the book appeals almost as strongly to hi$ sister as it does to him. 
Even the street boys are reading these books, and one librarian informed me 
that he had discovered that George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte 
were the most popular of the heroes of the bootblacks and newsboys in his 
own city. 

While children may gain much by reading for themselves, much de- 
pends also upon what may be read to them. Frequently, it is by this latter 
method that the best introduction to the higher literature is given. When to 
the beauty and uplifting power of the book is added the charm of the familiar 
voice, then boys and girls will listen to that which they might not read for 
themselves. For sometimes the pathways of literature require a guide to point 
the way as much as do the slopes of the mountain side we may be ascending. 

M. C, M. 



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PUBLISHER'S PAGE. 



THIS PAGE IS FOR MUTUAL BSSSFIT of Reader, Advertiser, and 
Publisher, i. To Reader by calling attention to meritorious articles adver- 
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DURIHG THE PAST TEAR a large number of SMITH PREMIER 
TYPEWRITERS have been sold in Cochin China, through the branch office 
of the company at Paris, France. These machines have been equipped with 
the French keyboard, and arc for use by the many French business houses in 
that part of China. One of the machines reached its destination with a type- 
bar broken in transit. The consignee turned it over to a Chinese mechanic, 
who, from a piece of crude metal, manufactured a type-bar in exact imitation 
of the broken one, which, when placed in the machine, worked perfectly. It 
took the Chinese mechanic two days to manufacture this small and simple 
piece of mechanism, which at the factory where Smith Premier Typewriters are 
made is only the work of a few minutes. 

BROTHER ADRIAN, O.F.M., of St. Louis, Mo., has awarded the con- 
tract for a large three-compartment cold storage for St. Elizabeth's Hospital, 
Lincoln, Neb., to the McCRAY REFRI6ERA10R COMPA^T of Kendallville, 
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and one for butter and milk, each having its separate ice chamber, and is to be 
of the most approved pattern. The awarding of this contract is still another 
proof of the recognition for superiority that the McCray refrigerators are 
receiving. 

COLONIST RATE $50.00.— New York to Arizona, California, New 
Mexico, £1 Paso, via Southern Railway, on sale daily, until October 30, 1902. 
Tourist sleeping car operated from Washington, D. C, on every Monday, 
Wednesday, and Friday, through to San Francisco without change. Berth 
rate, Washington to San Francisco, $7.00. For information and full particu- 
lars, address New York Office, 271 and 1185 Broadway. Alex. S. Thweatt, 
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Aost Hev. 5obn Autpbs failes, S>.S)., 

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Ihe laie A rohlji^hoj )._/',./,■ /,™ 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD, 



Vol. LXXVI. NOVEMBER, 1902. No. 452. 




VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. 

HE settlement of the strike of the United Mine 
Workers against the Anthracite Coal Operators 
is a notable vindication of the rights of the peo- 
ple. During the last six months the country 
has witnessed two great powers, the coal com- 
bine with wealth and influence and the mine-worker with pa- 
tience and stolid determination, set over against each other in 
hostile array; and while these two powers have contended for 
their rights, the people at large have suffered for a want of 
the real necessities of life. It is well known to any one who is 
in touch with the currents of present-day thought that there 
has been a good deal of thinking done over the strike situation, 
and some of it has been of a very pronounced radical character. 
Many people, instead of contenting themselves with a little 
pruning, which would remedy the evil, would fell the tree to the 
ground. 

In the midst of such social disturbances as occur but too 
commonly nowadays, we are accustomed to hear violent indict- 
ments of the existing order. Socialism — whatever that name 
may be taken to mean — at least g^ves evidence of its proximity 
and of its interest in events ; constantly it is speaking and 
writing and preaching to us. And what makes its message all 
the more significant is our own growing familiarity with and 
undisguised approval of various forms and institutions that have 
been advocated by Socialists, and that in the past were closely 
identified with the schools professing that name. In addition 

The MistiONASY Society of St. Paul thb Apostlb in thb State . 

OP New York.. 1903. 

TOL. LXXYI. — 10 



144 Vindication OF THE Rights OF THE PEOPLE. [Nov., 

to this we must recognize that the people are ever advancing 
in strength, intelligence, and ambition; that the popular stan- 
dard of comfort is steadily rising ; and that after having in many 
quarters completely or partially assumed the functions of gov- 
ernment, the multitude is now turning with lively interest to 
the solution of the problem how the earth and its fulness may 
most successfully be used to the best advantages of its original 
and rightful owners, the human race. 

Revolutions — even gradual revolutions — are not apt to be 
altogether calm and moderate either in word or action. Un- 
questionably the people, through its leaders, is frequently unrea- 
sonable and is sometimes guilty of violence and injustice. 
Patience, wisdom, breadth of view are demanded, however, for 
the lasting success of any policy. Study and assimilation of 
sound philosophical principles remain conditions of healthy 
thinking and sane action ; and assuredly these must not be 
wanting in the movement that aims at a reconstruction of 
society. No one with faith in human nature can doubt this. 
Equally true is it that there are in Catholic teaching the doc- 
trines taught by God, guarded by the church, and reasoned out 
into logical system by Catholic thinkers : in these will be found 
the means needed to guide society to salvation. 

It is because of the writer's unshaken faith in the convinc- 
ing appeal of Catholic principles to honest minds that the fol- 
lowing considerations are advanced. They are addressed to 
those concerned with the various grave problems, of ethical and 
social importance, uppermost just now in minds that watch the 
daily current of events. The problems are a very menace to 
the safety of our institutions, and they strain the heart-strings 
of those whose faith in our country's mission is as their nostrils' 
breath. Their importance impels all who are friends of liberty 
on to an attempt at finding the truth that will save us and 
set us free. 

THE LEGALITY OF LABOR UNIONS. 

In the first place, the chief contention in the strike was the 
right of the miners to unite into labor organizations not merely 
for self - protection against existing injustices, but for the attain- 
ment in the future of healthful living conditions that have been 
denied them. The operators denied the miners the right to or- 
ganize. In their interview with President Roosevelt they spoke 



1902.] VINDICA TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. 1 45 

of the " illegality *' • of the miners' organizations. They refused 
to arbitrate with any representative of the Unions. They would 
not see Mr. Mitchell nor any one who came in his name. The 
only terms that they would agree to at all were the individual 
settlement of grievances before the superintendent of each col- 
liery, or before the judges of the Court of Common Pleas. 

As to the legality of Trades- Unionism there can be no 
manner of doubt. It is admitted on all sides ; it is denied only 
by those whose purpose seems to be to reduce honest labor to 
galling slavery. Leo XIII., in his historical encyclical On the 
Condition of Labor^ not only teaches the right of labor to or- 
ganize, but he urges organization after the manner of the mediae- 
val guilds as a means of self- protection. It is only by combin- 
ing that the miner in Pennsylvania has secured even the shadow 
of a decent livelihood. Any one at all familiar with the ce>n- 
ditions in the mine regions knows what hardships labor there 
has been subjected to. The greed of capital has nowhere been 
so evident as in the anthracite coal mines. When it was found 
that the American coal miner would no longer submit to gall- 
ing conditions, the operator invited to the coal regions hordes 
of European peasants whom centuries of wrong had debased to 
the lowest stages of mental and physical squalor, and he fried 
to lower the scale of wages and break the power of the Unions 
by pitting these human slaves against honest labor. Labor 
Commissioner Wright saysf of this move on the part of the coal 
companies : 

" It was little short of an outrage that the operators had 
attached to their pay-roll, on the piece basis, almost twice as 
many men as they needed, from among the swarms of European 
immigrants. This redundance in the labor market was doubtless 
intended to avert labor troubles ; but instead of that, by reduc- 
ing the annual income far below what it might normally be, and 
by its invitation to idleness, had nursed the grievances. The 
low average of income from this system had also brought in a 
class of labor far inferior racially to that which had once operated 
the mines ; this has exhibited its native crudeness in the bru- 
tality and violence of the recent weeks." 

•The right of workingmcn to form unions for the protection of their interests has been 
established by legislation in England since 1871. It had been admitted in principle ever ^ince 
the R( form Act of 1832. 

\ Report to the President on the Anthracite Coal Strike. Bulletin of the Department of 
Labor. No. 43, November, Z903. 



146 VINDICA TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. [Nov., 

It did not take long for this species of deg^^aded labor in 
the atmosphere of American ideas to stand upright and assert 
its rights. By means of protective legislation the workingmen 
were secured some measure of decent conditions. Still there is 
much to be desired. 

The time is not far distant, it is hoped, that employers will 
find it to their advantage to cultivate Trades- Unionism. Un- 
doubtedly there have been many abuses connected with labor 
organizations, such as the leadership of rash men, interference 
with the liberty to work, and petty regulations impinging on 
the rights of ownership. In time, however, and. under intelli- 
gent management these abuses will be eliminated. 

In the meantime the employer may find it to his advantage 
to establish a community of interest with a trades union. He 
will get better work and more responsible service. Labor^ in the 
majority of cases, knows where its interest lies, and if the 
employer will make it the interest of the employee to serve 
him well he will find that he will get that kind of service. In 
the coal strike contention it was undoubtedly the influence of 
the labor organization that preserved the peace of the coal 
regions. We have witnessed the spectacle of 150,000 men» 
many of whom are of the rougher sort, thrown idle on a com- 
munity for six months, and during all this time there was not 
as much law- breaking as one would find in any of our large 
cities — reports of certain papers to the contrary, notwithstand- 
ing. Moreover there was every incentive to lawlessness: the 
presence of armed deputies, and the irritating parading of the 
soldiery, and the daily defamation of the good citizenship of 
the striking miners by the capitalistic press. It was only the 
splendid organization under good leadership that secured this 
state of affairs. All this is one of the best arguments for the 
labor organization. The militia could not have secured it, nor 
could the Federal troops, nor could any other power but the 
labor union. 

AN EXAGGERATED IDEA OK OWNERSHIP. 

The coal operators have continually asserted their ownership 
of the mines and their liberty to work them as they please. 
They will have no "foreign interference." They will not brook 
dictation from a man who comes from '' a rival industry." 
They will work the mines if *' they have the protection of the 



I902.] VINDICA TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. 147 

soldiery." "The Federal troops must be called out." It is 
their right to employ labor as and how they please. 

. If the strike has taught any particular lesson it has taught 
that there is no such thing as absolute ownership in such sense 
that a man can do as he pleases with his property irrespective 
of the rights of others. An exaggerated idea of ownership on 
the part of many has done more to breed Socialism than any 
other one thing. We shall probably hear no more of the claims 
of " the Christian men to whom God in His Infinite Wisdom has 
given control of the property interests of the country." 

In the exact sense of the word any ownership must of a 
necessity be limited in its nature. If a man is owner of a stick 
of dynamite, he cannot explode it in a public thoroughfare 
where the lives of others are endangered. If he owns a house, 
he cannot set it on fire to the detriment of his neighbors. If 
he owns a coal mine, he cannot grind the faces of his working- 
men. He must make such provision as is necessary for their 
physical safety. " There is a dictate of nature," says Leo XIII., 
" more imperious and more ancient than any bargain between 
man and man : that remuneration for labor must be enough 
to support the wage-earner in reasonable and frugal comfort." 
And again he writes : " If through necessity or fear of a worse 
evil the workingman accepts harder conditions because an em- 
ployer or contractor will give him no better, he is the victim 
of force and injustice." The laborer is not a piece of machin- 
ery to be purchased at the least possible cost, and thrown aside 
as worthless when it is of no further use. Nor is he a mere 
animal needing provision for bodily wants only. He is a man 
with God- given faculties, of high and noble dignity, having 
the most sacred relations and owing the most solemn duties to 
his Maker, and having spiritual and mental aspirations that 
require to be satisfied just as much as the wants of the body. 
It is not justice to enslave and degrade the laborer that the 
stockholder may have an added luxury. 

THE PRINCIPLE OF ARBITRATION. 

Then; again, as the legfitimate outcome of the coal strike, 
there has been affirmed the principle of arbitration. To have 
this principle affirmed by the Chief Magistrate of the nation in 
a practical way, by constituting an impartial court to which 
both parties to the contention have agreed to submit their diffi- 



148 VINDICA TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. [Nov., 

ctilties, is a tremendous gain. It is worth all the suffering that 
the strike has entailed. It has set up a precedent for all future 
strikes. It has exalted the principle of arbitration as the de- 
mand c^ the people at large, and this is very little short, if 
indeed it be at all short, of the vox Dei, Coming in the way 
it has, by appointment of the representative of the nation, the 
court of arbitration is clothed with supreme powers to define 
the limitation of private ownership It can say to the operator, 
You must pay a higher wage ; or to the miner, You must work 
a longer day. Its decisions are final and supreme, as the voice 
of the nation. 

Belief in the doctrine of creation implies that man is made 
in view of some certain end, and that his nature is proportioned 
to the end to be attained. That line of action which by the 
very essence of things best conduces to the attainment of man's 
end becomes obligatory as an imperative dictate of the natural 
law — or rather, as the natural law itself. The human reason, 
with more or less clearness, perceives the end ordained by God 
and the line of conduct that will lead to it; and the human 
will, necessarily and instinctively struggling for the satisfaction 
attainable only in the possession of its end, finds itself under 
moral constraint to follow that line of conduct. 

It follows, then, that man has divine sanction to exercise those 
activities which make for the perfect development of his nature 
in accord with the creative plan. Such sanction constitutes 
what is called a human right — a claim based upon nature and 
approved by God. 

SALUS POPULI SUPREMA LEX. 

Clearly there is bound up with this first simple idea of 
moral power a second notion, namely, a relation to other men. 
Man's right to attain his end by the due exercise of his human 
activities corresponds to a duty of non-interference on the part 
of others. When, then, society arises — not from voluntary choice 
but in virtue of instinct and natural demand — each individual, 
perceiving that the nature and destiny of other men are identi- 
cal with his own, understands that the same law dominates his 
activity and theirs. All other men like himself possess an in- 
alienable right to unimpeded self- development, to the pursuit 
of perfection. In the abstract, then, the rights of all men are 
equal. But once we begin to deal with concrete members of 



I902.] VINDICA TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. 1 49 

humanity, we discover the existence of an inevitable difference 
in their human powers and of a resultant inequality in their 
conditions. We discover also that unimpeded activity is a prac- 
tical impossibility, since each individual's attempt to appropriate 
the means of perfection limits similar attempts on the part of 
other individuals. 

Inequality of conditions is th erefore a necessity, being an 
unavoidable consequence of primary constitutional peculiarities 
bestowed upon individuals by nature herself. But how far may 
this inequality extend ? Has it no bound ? Will moral claim 
be measured by physical power,, right by might? And can it be 
that some one individual may be born into this world of concrete 
realities possessed of nothing but certain abstract rights incapa- 
ble of actuation because the owner is so late upon the field ? 
And may individuals in the concrete be crowded wholly out- 
side of the conditions necessary to life and liberty and happi- 
Aess? This can hardly be. What, then, is to prevent it? 
What shall determine the limit to be placed to the activity of 
the first-comers, or the stranger ? Evidently the limit must be 
set by a good outranking the good of unimpeded individual 
activity; and that higher good is the common welfare. The 
claims of mankind are previous to the claim of the individual 
man — the welfare, the progress, the perfectibility of the com- 
munity warn back the avaricious member who would glut him- 
self at humanity's expense. 

It is the office of the authority which obtains in a given 
society to provide that this limit be observed. It is the part 
of prudent, informed, enlightened, and religious common- sense to 
define when and where individual aggrandizement runs foul of the 
public good ; when the pressing of individual claims becomes an 
unjustifiable interference with the perfection of the community. 

The real crux of the question comes into view when 
we begin to ask about the power to define what is and 
what is not in accord with the general interest of the com- 
munity. But who can have a better claim validly to formulate 
such definition than the community itself — that is to say, the 
power which represents the community, the ordinary supreme 
authority that voices law and order to the individual members 
of the social body ? The precise limitations of private right are, 
therefore, to be determined by the verdict of the people's com- 
mon-sense, deliberate, prudent, enlightened, just, harmonious with 



1 50 VINDICA TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. [Nov., 

the principles of the natural law and the dictates of human ex- 
perience. Thus arrived at, the verdict of the people, issuing 
through the authorized channels, should be decisive and iinaL 

In this sense we shall await with lively interest and with 
profound respect for the findings of this Authorized Court. Its 
decisions should have • a certain sacredness about them, and 
should be accepted by the American citizen as though clothed 
with all the majesty of the law; for they are the voice of the 
American people demanding that two contestants shall go to 
work and provide coal — an absolute necessity of life. . 

And here let a final word be written concerning the norm in 
accord with which social authority is bound to decide and act 
"Particular" justice, or the justice which concerns the rights of 
individuals, is divided by St. Thomas and the School, following 
Aristotle, into two species, according as it regulates the mutual 
rights and duties of individuals, or the satisfaction of individual 
claims upon society. The first concerns the relation of the 
parts to one another; the second the relation of the parts to 
the whole. Society by its authority must preside over both 
sorts of relations and must see that the rule of justice is observed. 
But we are to observe that while the rule of justice calls for 
the observance of strict equality in transactions between man 
and man, it calls only for a proportion in the satisfying of in- 
dividual claims upon society. For distributive justice, as it is 
called, presides over the distribution of what is due to different 
men as members of the body social, and it makes an individual's 
share larger or smaller according as he is of greater or lesser 
importance to the whole. It belongs to distributive justice, there- 
fore, to see that the masses, that predominantly valuable ele- 
ment of society, shall receive a consideration proportionate to 
their importance ; and that the whole machinery of legislation 
be wisely set in motion to provide them with abundant chance 
to live humanly, and to advance toward that perfection of being 
which is their divinely appointed end. 

It becomes an inviting matter for speculation now, to de- 
termine what enlightened common-sense may have to say as to 
the expediency or inexpediency of various existing conditions. 
Wanton luxury, for instance, must stand at once condemned ; 
for nothing can justify a distinction that brings rational satis- 
faction to no one. The excuse that useless expenditure is good 
because it circulates money has been exploded long ago. That 



I902.] VI N Die A TION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE. 1 5 1 

excuse proves that luxury is not the worst possible form of 
evil, but is far from proving it a positive good. In the long 
run and in the widest sense the unethical can never be econo- 
mic ; and Bastiat has cleverly exposed the fallacious defence of 
luxury by his story of Jacques Bonhomm^s and his scapegrace 
son. Here then is the indication of a point to which the atten- 
tion, and if need be, the power of the community might well 
be directed. So, too, we venture to suggest the possibility of 
startling common-sense verdicts as to the housing ^ the poor, 
public education, practical ostracism of some of the best material 
in the whole race from social, intellectual, and moral cultivation. 
To some extent this verdict has already been pronounced, and 
its echo is discernible in the new tone that dominates modern 
legidation. What the people want they are learning to demand ; 
and what they demand they get, whether it be public parks, 
or heated cars, or low rates for freight and travel. That which 
is most encouraging in the whole situation, perhaps, is the fact 
that it is the sacred voice of the people which has insisted upon 
our most recent improvements, and that it is the strong arm of 
the law which has undertaken to enforce the people's dictates. 
After aUy it is the people who are nearest God ; it is upon the 
perfectibility of the people that the consummation of the divine 
plan depends; and it needs but the universal appreciation of 
their supreme worth to bring about the establishment of all 
that law can do to open man's path to progress. Slowly that 
appreciation is making its way, but surely; and at the same 
time the people, the great living, thinking, loving creature, the 
wonderful and favorite masterpiece of God, is becoming ac- 
quainted with its own mighty power, the power which the 
Creator bestowed upon it for the achievement of perfection. So 
we look over man's progress in the past with satisfaction and 
thankfulness, we look forward into the future with hearts full 
of hope. Human progress, the perfectibility of the race, man's 
inalienable right to all that God gave the human race — these 
are facts settled and assured. One cannot but regard them with 
a glad content ; one cannot but feel amid the clash of oppression 
and menace, in the stress of the social tumult, an inviolable 
trust that the same great Providence who created man is work- 
ing out, as it were, silently and unseen, that grand world-plan 
in which man is the central figure and humanity's ascent the 
chiefest interest. 



152 The educational Crisis in England. [Nov., 



THE EDUCATIONAL CRISIS IN ENGLAND. 

BY REV. GILBERT SIMMONS, C.S.P. 

KERE is going on at the present time in England 
a conflict on the Education , Question ^hich 
cannot fail to be of interest in this country, and 
this because the ultimate end sought by one of 
the two parties is the adoption by England of 
the American system, of secular education. 

As at present constituted the schools of Catholics and of 
the Established Church, and in fact of any denomination which 
is willing to butid a school-house and to open a school, are 
helped, subject to government inspection and approval, by the 
taxes, and this help amounts to nearly four-fifths in most cases 
of the whole expense of teaching. The remaining fifth has to 
be made up by voluntary contributions in all voluntary schooU; 
the Board schools have the power of levying rates on the 
locality for this deficiency. The attractive feature of the new 
Bill is that it relieves the supporters of religious voluntary 
schools and enables them too to levy rates. It, however, entails 
upon them the giving the use of the school-houses free of rent 
and the maintenance of them in ordinary repairs. 

In this battle Catholics and Churchmen are ranged together 
as allies, and they have for opponents the members of the Dis- 
senting Churches as well as the opponents of all religion ; although 
these latter do not come to the front. The spirit in which the 
battle is being carried on by the Dissenters is well indicated by 
the utterances of Dr. Clifford, a Baptist minister in London who 
has taken a very prominent part in the conflict In his opinion 
the fatal feature of the Bill is that it leaves each school under a 
board of managers the majority of which is to consist of mem- 
bers of the denomination to which the school belongs. This 
provision is to secure the religious character of school teaching; 
and is, in fact, the only security for such continuance. But Dr. 
Clifford finds that it puts into jeopardy their dearest and most 
cherished rights as English citizens. To quote his own words: 
"The chief jewel in the heritage bequeathed to us by the toil 
and suffering of our ancestors — that of self- government--~is about 



I902.] The Educational Crisis in England. 453 

to be stolen from us. The state is in danger — yes, that is 
the fact. ... If the state does not forbid this Bill to pass 
into law, it will doom this generation and the next to bitterness 
and to strife [and this because the opponents of the Bill openly 
profess their determination not to obey the law and to render 
it unworkable], to impoverished education and increased in- 
justice to the teaching profession, to commercial decay and to 
political retrogression." Nothing less, he asserts, is being as- 
saulted than the primary right of the British people to govern 
themselves. He makes an elaborate comparison between the 
provisions of the Bill and of the present government and the 
conduct of Charles I. and Laud. He concludes that it therefore 
is a duty to fight, and that the battle is for life. Pym and 
Hampden are invoked ; Thermopylae is referred to ; the hierarchy 
of priests is defied ; he feels the same constraint as did St. Paul : 
" We can do no other." The primary elementary rights of 
citizens must be defended against the arbitrary encroachments of 
an archaic clericalism that knows not the hour or the day or the 
real spirit of the times. 

Such is the spirit of the opposition to the Bill manifested in 
prose ; a brother minister, however, has felt the divine afflatus 
and has burst forth into song, and this for popular use. We 
quote two or three stanzas: 

"While our sons were over the sea. 
While the soldier fought, 
Priest and traitor sought to bring 
The People's schools to naught. 

Now the angel Peace returns, 

Guard thy flock at home. 
Let thy priestly spoilers hear 

Thy trampling millions come. 

Rally then from sea to sea, 

England, in thy might: 
Win for men — more Liberty, 

Win for the child — more Light." 

The desire of the opposition is to excite popular prejudice 
by appeals based on what look like wilful misrepresentations. 
The point on which Dr. Clifford dilates and which calls forth 



154 ^^^ Educational Crisis in England, [Nov., 

his most impassioned appeal is simply this: By the proposals 
of the Bill each school will be under three controlling bodies ; the 
first is its own managing body made up of local managers. Hither- 
to these have been non- elective, appointed by those who built the 
school. The bill adds to the number a proportion of one-third 
to two^thirds, and thereby increases instead of diminishing 
popular control. The one-third is appointed by the educa- 
tional authority of the district, which is to be the Education 
Committee of the Town or County Council; the two- thirds are 
to be appointed as before. Dr. Clifford wants the majority to 
be appointed by the Education Committee. But the Bill g^ves 
complete and absolute control of all secular teaching to the 
Education Committee. This Education Committee is appointed 
by an elected body and is subject to the Board of Education 
in London, itself subject to Parliament. So complete is the 
control of these two sets of authorities over the school mana- 
gers that all that is left to them is the care of buildings and 
the appointment (but not the dismissal) of the teachers. The 
power to appoint the teacher is necessary if the religious 
character ol the school is to be maintained. This Dr. Clifford 
sees, and wants to strip those who have built the school of 
this power. This barefaced robbery is worthy of the descen- 
dants of the Cromwell whom they affect to venerate, and of those 
who have for the past generation been taking the money of 
Catholics and Churchmen to teach that remnant of Christianity 
which they have left. This if the main point of contention : 
the Dissenters, too niggardly and faithless to build schools to 
teadi their various persuasions and opinions, want to seize upon 
the management of the schools of those who have made sacri- 
fices to build and keep up their own schools. 

By the provisions of the new Bill School Boards will be 
abolished. This is not in itself a real grievance to the oppo- 
nents of religious education, but a sentimental one ; for School 
Boards represented the principle of popular control and of the 
manufacture of a religion by that control. By the new Bill 
the powers of the School Boards will be transferred to the 
Education Committee, to be appointed by the Town or County 
Council of the district. This committee will not immediately 
depend upon the popular vote, and some of its members may 
be chosen by the committee from those who are not them- 
selves members of the respective councils ; but ultimately the 



I902.] The Educational Crisis in England, 155 

popular vote is the source of their power, for it is by it that 
the councils are elected. It is, however, a grievance to the 
opponents that there is no longer an election ad hoc^ as hither- 
to. It is no real grievance, however, for a small portion only 
of the electorate has ever voted. 

Under the provisions of the law as it stands, wherever there 
was in the opinion of education authorities an ample supply of 
school accommodation, no new school to receive government 
aid could be erected, so that where there was a Board School, 
a voluntary school could not come in and educate the children 
of a denomination, according to its tenets. The new Bill abol- 
ishes this monopoly, and provided parents erect a suitable 
school building, empowers the government to grant the usual 
aid to its support. This provision will, of course, work both 
ways, for it will enable schools to be built by Protestants in 
districts where the educational wants of the district were sup- 
plied by a Catholic school ; there were not, however, many of 
these districts. 

Other . provisions are more or less technical and not of 
general or controversial interest. There is one, however, of 
uncontroversial but general interest. The new Bill unifi.es the 
authority over all schools, both primary and secondary. It 
thus enables the son of a farm laborer to begin in his village 
school and rise, by means of intermediate schools, to the uni- 
versity itself; and so restores to the poor the privileges they 
enjoyed in Catholic times, but which have been wrested from 
them by the power and greed of those post- Reformation de- 
scendants — unworthy sons of the original benefactors. 

It is not the rights of the minority that this bill seeks to 
secure. It is the Dissenters who form the minority, although a 
shameless one. In the Voluntary Schools 3,043,006 children 
are enrolled, while in the Board Schools there are but 2,662,- 
669. By the aid of the Rates (which is now to be given to 
the Voluntary Schools), and partly at the cost of Catholics and 
Churchmen, the Board Schools have expended on each child 
£2 5J. 2^/., or nearly eleven dollars, while the Voluntary Schools 
have only been able to expend £\ 15^. 2d,, or about eight dollars 
and a half. Catholics and Churchmen are only contending for 
just treatment, not for privilege. Dissenters are contending for 
privilege, and, strange to say, for state payment of the religion 
which they themselves have made. 



156 The Symbolisms of God. [Nov., 



THE SYMBOLISMS OF GOD. 

BY ALBERT REYNAUD. 
" That they maj' have life, and have it more nbundantly." 

1HE symbolisms of God are facts. If we may- 
dare to image Him with human metaphors: 
He writes His poems for us in living hearts 
and with human lives. Prophecies, Psalms, — 
nay, from Genesis to the Machabecs, — are not 
only uttered truths but enacted for us in a chain of real exist* 
ences, actual people and occurrences. He expresses His philoso* 
phy to us, not in terms of speculation, but in terms of life and 
human history. His psychology is no inquest over extinct 
energies, — but the living soul, exemplifying in act and deed the 
abstract principles of its message. 

March back through the centuries to the times, seemingly 
all too short, used by Him to foreshadow and foretell the com* 
ing of His Christ Types, figures, promises, take the shapes of 
living men : patriarchs, prophets, judges, kings. Events, nay 
episodes, in that one central life- to-be, take up in forecast 
whole histories and vicissitudes of an actual people. 

Such is the intensity of the realism, of the realities of God ; 
even in the small view, the bare suggestion of lineament, which 
mortal eyes can adoringly and wonderingly — and only in adora- 
tion's wonderment — perceive and take in ; in order that we 
ourselves may be, in the strong words of the Apostle, merely 
"some beginning of His creature." 

Oh ! poor conceits of men, which we strive, after much 
labor, with great effort and amid many meaningless groanings, 
to bring forth simply to an utterance — mere words, mere wind — 
prsterea nihil; travails of a mind to result in mere lisping 
labials ; hazy tattle of faint memories of a dream : — Unrealities 
allt 

Does God live ? Behold, not only Sinai thunders, but a 
whole people and its history are a living holocaust and oracle 
of the fact. 

Does God hear us and bear us relation ? Behold the Incar- 



1902.] THE Symbolisms of Cod. 157 

nation flashes forth and imprints its ineffaceable record on 
human time and the life of humanity thenceforward ; — to spell 
 those glorious words : " And He dwelt amongst us." 

Does God love us ? Behold Calvary and the Cross. No, it 
were not enough. A life, even a divine life, is not enough to 
answer. For all time and all people, all inquiries and all needs, 
all sorrows and all joys, all doubts and all paeans of recogni- 
tion and of praise — for all hearts and all lives ; to the last pos- 
sible intensity of reality and actuality cognizable of men; — nay 
more, unto the satisfaction of God's own thirst to express, to 
manifest, to actualize, to communicate Himself up to the very 
brim of our own receptivity ! — Behold ! the Blessed Sacrament^ 
the Holy Eucharist — Holy Communion ; the living God with 
us, of us and for us; each individually; a divine Host for 
each soul; a special Incarnation, re-enacted, repeated, renewed 
for every single individual; all who will; now; and to the end 
of time and the consummation of the world. 

Oh ! blessed Reality 1 Oh ! Supreme Intensity ! Living and 
life-giving symbolism of the Infinite — utmost humanwise ex- 
pression of the Word of the Almighty: 

"That they may have life, and have it more abundantly." 



iS8 Faith. [Nov. 



FAITTH, 



BY EDWARD DOYLE. 




AITH, a child with angel sight, 
Leads the Soul through Nature's night. 
Winds are moths about her light. 



What the taper that she bears ? 
Reason that, raised Heavenward, flares. 
Whence the flame ? Ask stars whence theirs. 

Could the Hand that lights the Sun, 
Stars and planets, every one, 
Pass the soul and leave it dun ? 

In this light all mysteries 
Show their faces, terror flees, 
And the restless heart finds ease. 

Look ! Death comes ! How yellow, first ! 
Then, what darkness! What a burst 
Of Creation's powers, reversed! 

As the deafening storm draws near. 
Faith bids Life, aloud and clear : 
" Lie face down and have no fear ! " 

In the dark, awhirl with sand, 
Lone and smiling, see her stand 
With the taper in her hand ! 

Hark ! Can that be Gabriel's blast. 
Whirling like leaves, the mountains vast ? 
Yea, but Faith pales not aghast. 

No, for the truths, expected long. 
Come, and, with voices sweet and strong, 
Raise Creation's gasp to Song ! 



Thi Roval Palace. 



BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. 

BY FRANXIS MLRV. 

(Femur Marine Cemmitiitntr.) 

LL Europeans who have journeyed in the Far East 
are unanimous in pronouncing Bangkok the most 
unique and picturesque of all cities visited. 

In this place, which has been aptly named 
"The Venice of the Far East," almost all of the 
streets are traversed by canals and "arroyos," and three- 
quarters of the population dwell in house-boats on the Menatn, 
which forms the chief thoroughfare of the capital. The markets 
that are held every morning on this river present to the stranger 
an appearance very much like that of gardens suddenly spring- 
ing up from the water. Both buyers and sellers are in boats, 
and traffic is carried on with as great facility as in the best 
arranged shops. Indeed, the scene of this river-market is so 
animated that steamboats approaching the city are forced to 
diminish their speed in order to avoid cutting in two some 
"sampan" or canoe. Crowds of children of all ages, splashing 
in the water quite heedless of alligators, greet the incoming 
TOL. Lxxn. — It 



l6o BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST [Nov., 

Steamer with frantic shouts, while the native women appear at 
their doors, eager to see any stranger who may arrive. Slowly 
the features of the great city define themselves: the Church of 
the Assumption, Oriental Hotel, French consulate, Custom- 
House, Post-OflSce, English consulate, Calvary Church, and, 
finally, an old fort built by the engineers of Louis XIV. in the 
days when Bangkok belonged to France by authentic treaty. 
Next, the walls of the royal city come in view, enclosing num- 
berless pagodas, high pyramids with decorations of porcelain 
and enamels, and the palace of the king glittering with gold. 
The many-colored tiles that cover these graceful and fancifully 
shaped structures give a marvellous effect in the sunshine, and 
the fairy-like palace, surrounded by temples above which in- 
numerable towers and minarets pierce the air like golden arrows, 
produces an extraordinary effect. The clustered roofs give the 
impression of a verdant prairie or a field of rice ripening in 
the sun, and the whole scene is one of the most exquisite 
harmony, unmarred. by a single discordant note of form or 
color. 

Twenty years ago the only route leading into the city was 
by the river Menam. Roads were an unknown luxury in 
Bangkok as well as throughout the whole kingdom, and all 
travelling was done by water. When the king or any of the 
grand dignitaries of the realm left their boats they were carried 
in palanquins. To-day broad avenues lead from the suburbs 
into the royal city, which is entered through monumental gates 
surmounted by pyramids, the white silhouettes of which stand 
dazzlingly out against the blue of the sky. The palace, which 
is built in form of a rectangle, covers a large site. It faces the 
Barracks Square, where the royal festivals which the king pro- 
vides for his subjects are held each year, and where the Phra- 
Men, or monumental crematory, is built on the occasion of the 
death of a king. 

Two tall doors of teak wood give entrance to a vast court, 
in the centre of which is placed a tall flagstaff flying the colors 
of Siam. A few untidy militiamen, seated on tabourets or 
stretched on the ground, chat with each other as they smoke 
innumerable cigarettes and glance indifferently at the natives 
who enter the place. The appearance of a European visitor, 
however, rouses these sentinels from their torpor, and they all 
fall upon the stranger's permit, with one accord, to see if it 



I902.] BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. l6l 

bears the signature of " De-va-vong " — that is to say, the minister 
of foreign affairs. 

Upon this outer court of the palace — which is always 
crowded — open various public offices, the stalls of the sacred 
white elephants, and the huge royal pagoda, Vat Prakeo. The 



SUMHBR RESIDBNCB OP THt KlNC OF SlAH. 

Siamese bureaucrats, like their European colleagues, consider it 
very bad form to reach their offices on time. There is always 
a preliminary saunter along the Menam, with a breakfast of 
shark's fin or alligator steak at some ambulant Chinese cook- 
shop before beginning the day's work. 

The business of the day seems to consist, for the most part, 
in chewing betel and drinking tea from microscopic cups, 
although a few rare workers may be seen tearing their hair 
over documents in English or French, the words of which are 
scarcely understood by them. 

The court is thronged with pious natives who have come to 
prostrate themselves before the sacred white elephants and offer 
to these animals the sugar- canes that have often been brought 
from a long distance. Yellow clad talapoins, with shaven heads 
and eye-brows, move impassively through the court, on their 
way to the palace to beg their daily portion of fish and rice, 
which they place in the traditional kettle always carried about 
with them. These priests are privileged characters, being usually 



l62 BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. [Nov., 

sons of princes or mandarins of high rank, and they receive 
their daily bread from the hands of the King himself, or from 
those of his sons who, following the Siamese custom, spend a 
year or two of their adolescence in residence in the royal 
pagoda. 

These talapoins enter unchallenged the inner, granite- paved 
court, in which the royal palace proper — that is to say, the 
part of the palace actually occupied by the King — ^is situated. 
But the entrance of strangers is instantly barred by two Siamese 
officers, who require a second exhibition of the pass from the 
minister of foreign affairs and who examine this pass with an 
air of suspicion. These officers, who are called maha-leks, are 
the body-guards of the King. They are all men of noble birth, 
and are the recipients of so many royal favors that they are 
regarded with much disfavor by the other troops of his Majesty 
Chulalongkorn's army. These body-guards are easily recogniz- 
able by their magnificent uniforms and the black helmets which 
are rakishly poised over their beardless faces. 

Our swords seemed to cause the Siamese officers much dis- 
quietude, and we were invited to surrender them before enter- 
ing the palace ; but, following the example of an English officer 
who had preceded us, we refused emphatically to do so. 

The palace, which was, unfortunately, planned by a Euro- 
peaa, is not a pure example of Siamese architecture. This 
style, however, has been used exclusively in the roof, which is 
a masterpiece of the national architecture. Two flights of steps 
lead from the palace entrance to a large antechamber into 
which open several salons and the magnificent throne-room, 
where formal receptions are held. 

Upon the walls of this room are hung priceless yellow silk 
parasols embroidered in gold, and ancient armor studded with 
precious stones. The ceiling is of glass, that no one may walk 
above his Majesty's head, and from this glass ceiling is hung a 
huge crystal chandelier that figured prominently at the Exposi- 
tion of 1878. In the four corners are trees of gold and silver, 
a tribute from the people of Laos. At the end of the room, on 
a slightly elevated platform, stands a golden chair surmounted 
by the royal nine-story parasol. The King sits upon this 
throne wearing a sextuple crown, clad in a robe of rich brocade 
embroidered in jewels. Upon his feet are golden sandals spark- 
ling with priceless diamonds. Massive golden vases containing 



I902.] BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. 163 

red cabbage, areca and betel leaves, are placed on a table near 
the throne, and two cuspidors, also of gold, stand conveniently 
near. 

Formerly, it was required of visitors to approach the throne 
on hands and knees, and it was forbidden, on pain of death, to 
look upon the face of the King. An ambassador of Louis XIV. 
was the first to refuse to submit to such humiliation, and now 
foreigners and native mandarins are permitted to stand in the 
royal presence, but only representatives of other nations are 
allowed to retain their swords in the throne- room. When the 
reception is ended all visitors leave the room walking back- 
ward. 

Adjoining the throne- room are the private apartments of the 
King and the First Queen. No European has ever been ad- 
mitted to these rooms, and the descriptions of the Siamese, like 
those of other Orientals, require a liberal discount. But it 
would seem that these apartments contain a motley collection 
of furniture, and the costliest products of native art find them- 
selves on terms of intimacy with music boxes and fancy clocks 
imported from Germany. The upholstery and hangings of these 
rooms are of yellow silk, the sacred color reserved for the use 
of the King and the talapoins alone. 

Separate buildings are occupied by the Second Queen, the 
Third Queen, and the King's concubines and children. An 
attempt has been made to transform the beautiful gardens of 
the palace into a miniature universe containing objects from 
every quarter of the globe, and offering so many diversions as 
to make the wives and daughters of the King forget that they 
are, in reality, prisoners. A bazaar, presided over by women 
slaves, has also been provided, that the women of the seraglio 
may purchase anything desired without leaving the palace. 

His Majesty Chulalongkorn possesses at least five or six 
hundred wives. The Siamese consider it a great honor to have 
a daughter admitted to the King's harem, and openly boast of 
the distinction thus conferred upon them. The fate of the un- 
fortunate women who are thus honored is far from enviable, 
however. They are forbidden to see their parents and only the 
King has the right to speak to them. If, by any chance, a 
woman of the seraglio succeeds in bringing about some roman- 
tic adventure, she is sewed alive into a leather bag and 
thrown into the river the very day she is found out. If her 



l64 BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. [Nov., 

accomplice is of noble family, he ts beaten to death with a 
sandalwood rod ; a mandarin of low degree, or a man of the 
people, is instantly impaled. 

The chief diversion of Chulalongkorn's wives is to present 
their offerings to Buddha in the beautiful pagoda of the palace. 
Vat Maha Tat, where the golden urns containing the ashes of 
departed kings are preserved. This building, although rather 
small, is one of the finest examples of Siamese architecture. It 
is in form of a Greek cross, with 

— . a quintuple roof surmounted by 

a spire of indescribable delicacy. 
A foundation of white marble 
supports the gold -lacquered walls, 
the porch is upheld by wonder- 
ful enamelled pillars, and ver- 
milioned scrolls wreath the pedi- 
ment that flashes with gold and 
enamel. The doors, which are 
marvellously carved, have two 
panels, lacquered and encrusted 
with mother-of-pearl. Within 
the pagoda are magnificent paint- 
ings representing the Brahman 
heaven and other sacred scenes. 
Fbesco of Vat Maha Tat. The Steps to the altar are al- 

most hidden by candles, cakes 
of wax, statuettes, Chinese vases, little elephants made of ivory, 
and gold and silver paper. A Buddha, wonderfully carved from 
rock-crystal, occupies the place of honor, his neck encircled 
with 3 collar of .rubies and a crown of diamonds on his head. 

On leaving this temple one is confronted by two gigantic 
granite statues, measuring at least twenty-six feet in height, 
which guard the entrance to the huge pagoda Vat Prakeo. 
These sentinels have the most repulsive faces, well calculated to 
inspire horror and drive away the profane. 

It is impossible to imagine anything more magnificently 
beautiful than the buildings that compose the... Vat Prakeo : 
verandas, roofs, stairways, pylons, pyramids, all covered with 
gold and enamel. The temples are surrounded by superb ter- 
races adorned with kiosks, balustrades, vases of rare flowers, 
elephants and buffaloes hewn from granite, marble statuary, and 



I902.] BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. 165 



RtiVAL Pagoda op Vat Prakbo. 
fantastic bronze lions. In the resplendent Asiatic sunshine the 
eyes are completely dazzled by a display of color and magnifi- 
cence which exceeds the limits uf imagination and the maddest 
dreams. 

A great rectangular gallery which surrounds the pagoda 
contains a series of frescoes representing the principal events in 
the religious and secular history of the people of Siam. The 
whole story of Buddha's life has been depicted upon these walls 
by artists who have given a most realistic character to the 
various scenes. The king under whose supervision the work 
was executed was so welt pleased with the result that he had 
the artists immediately buried alive beneath the entrance to the 
pagoda, in order that their souls might go directly to Buddha 
and describe to him the magnificence of this temple built in 
his honor. 

In the centre of this group of temples is the principal build- 
ing, which is called the " Bot." This is surmounted by a triple 
roof made of tiles, so highly varnished as to be positively pain- 
ful to the sight. A monumental door of precious wood, with 
mother-of-pearl encrustation even more delicate than that on 



l66 BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. [Nov., 

the doors of the Vat Maha Tat, gives access to the Bot» in the 
dim recesses of which an immense altar is scarcely visible until 
the keepers of the pagoda open the blinds and flood with sun- 
light this treasury of incalculable riches. 

Antique porcelains, vases of cloisonne, delicately woven 
wreaths of artificial flowers, golden candlesticks, censers of 
carved silver and exquisitely modelled statuettes are found on 
the altar, mingled with cheap European trinkets. Above all 
this confusion of offerings towers the placid face of the famous 
statue of Buddha, carved upon an emerald which was taken 
from the people of Laos by the liberator of Siam, the Chinese 
Phaya-Tak. It is whispered by the sceptical that this so-called 
emerald is simply jasper, but the height of the altar is so great 
that it is impossible to verify the nature of the stone. 

Trees of gold and silver spread out their priceless leaves to 
form a unique background for the statues of Buddha, which are 
placed at either side of the altar. These statues are six feet in 
height, and the heads are adorned with the seven- fold hieratic 
crown, while the hands, which are turned, palms outward, to- 
ward the faithful, have their fingers literally covered with dia- 
mond rings. 

Everywhere in the temple one notices silver cuspidors, a 
very necessary precaution in this country where men, women, 
and even queens chew betel constantly. This habit is so strongly 
fixed upon the Siamese that a young native princess, who was 
educated in England and had returned to Siam as the wife of 
one of the King's ministers, was obliged, in spite of her repug- 
nance, to adopt this national custom, since the First Queen re- 
fused to receive a " pale mouthed " subject with teeth '' as white 
as a dog's." 

A stay of four or five hours is too short to see more than 
the beginning of the treasures of this enchanted palace. 

The visitor's sensation of utter amazement is emphasized by 
an unexpected sound that greets his ears on leaving the palace. 
In the square an excellent native band, under the direction of a 
European leader, is playing the familiar music of *' Faust." The 
cymbals, tomtoms, and horns of old Siam have been vanquished 
by Gounod, Massenet, and Saint-Saens, and it is a great sur- 
prise to find that the music of these composers is rendered 
more artistically in the band- stand at Bangkok than in many of 
our provincial theatres. 



I902.] BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. 1 67 

There is an interesting audience grouped in front of the 
palace. Native women, wearing a sort of tunic over which is 
draped a gorgeous scarf, elbow their compatriots and cast curi- 
ous glances at the Europeans who are listening religiously to 
the music. And Siamese officers, tightly encased in white 
jackets elaborately trimmed with gold lace, and wearing white 
stockings drawn smoothly up over their calves, strut up and 
down, visibly proud when they detect a glance of admiration. 
When the crowd grows weary of standing it disposes itself 
lazily on the lawn about the palace where the King's horses 
are usually pastured; but at the first notes of the Siamese 
national hymn, which was composed by LuUi at the request 
of one of the kings, all the natives rise to their feet, while the 
members of the band turn their faces toward the palace. Thus 
the concert is brought to a close in the midst of profound 
silence on the part of the audience. 

Near the palace is a long, narrow alley bordered by two 
rows of shops, the low roofs of which almost meet overhead. 
This alley, which is called the Talat, or market-place, was for- 
merly the only street in Bangkok. It is too narrow to admit 
of the passage of even a hand- cart, and the slippery pavement 
is covered with a viscous, black mud that has a most deplora- 
ble effect upon the white garments so universally worn. But, 
in spite of its filth, this quarter is well worth a visit from the 
traveller who wishes to see the native unspoiled by foreign 
contact. Here, at a distance of only a few hundred feet from 
the homes of Europeans, one finds one's self in the very heart 
of the Orient, surrounded by its theatres and opium- dens, and 
listening to the cries of coolies, the beating of tomtoms, and 
the sound of petards. Famished curs bark furiously and show 
a decided preference for European legs ; merchants hawk their 
wares ; lepers pass by unnoticed ; interminable processions block 
the way. 

In this narrow street Hindoo or Parsee merchants sell arms, 
mirrors encrusted with mother-of-pearl, and porcelain vases that 
they call antique. Malay merchants display valuable China 
plates, gold and silver trinkets, brass vases and bracelets of 
great value ; and the proprietors of restaurant carts set up their 
cooking- stoves in the midst of the thoroughfare. Adjoining an 
open-air theatre is a gambling house, and show-cases replete 
with Buddhas in all forms and sizes are everywhere, while 



l68 BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. [Nov., 

Chinese hair-dressers ply their trade in the street, artfully arrang- 
ing their compatriots' queues. 

Near Talat is the pagoda of Vat Xetuphon, famous for the 
gigantic statue of Buddha which it contains. This statue is one 
hundred and fifty feet in length and represents the god in a 
recumbent position, with his whole history carved upon the 
soles of his feet. Some too credulous travellers have asserted 
that the statue is of pure 
gold, but only a very 
slight examination is ne- 
cessary to prove that it 
is made of brick with 
only a very thin cover- 
ing of gold. One of the 
most beautiful of all the 
sacred edifices is the Vat 
Bovoranivet. It is to this- 
pagoda that all male chil- 
dren of the King are sent, 
when they are about 
twelve years of age, to- 
be vested in the yellow 
robe of the talapoins and 
to study the " pali," or sacred language of the Buddhists. 
This entrance to the pagoda is always attended with great 
pomp, and foreigners who were in Bangkok in 1891 will never 
forget the elaborate festivities that marked the admission of 
the Crown Prince to the Vat Bovoranivet. It is customary, 
in Siam, for all male children to spend a year or two in a 
pagoda under the instruction of the talapoins, but the children 
of the common people are practically employed as servants io 
the pagodas, where they learn few lessons save those of idle- 
ness and immorality. 

The palace of the " Vang-Na," or Second King, is also 
situated in the royal city, and was, twenty years ago, one of 
the most interesting sights at Bangkok. At the present time it 
is in ruins. Sun and rain beat in through the broken roof up- 
on tall golden chariots that once figured in all public cere- 
monies beside the chariot of the First King; and sumptuous 
boats, of great size, hewn from a single tree trunk, are moul- 
dering away among rusty mortars and unused cannon. A small 



I902.] BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. 1 69 

portion of the palace has been restored and converted into a 
museum by a French physician, and this alone remains to tell 
the tale of former glory. 

The last Second King of Siam, whose office was practically 
that of regent of the realm, revolted against the actual King of 
Siam, and took refuge at Singapore when he saw that defeat 
was certain. His followers were reduced to slavery, or con- 
demned to cut grass for the sacred elephants for the remainder 
of their lives, and a few of the leaders were put to death with 
the most cruel tortures. 

A few years later Chulalongkorn met his former colleague 
at the residence of the governor of Singapore and insisted upon 
the fugitive's return. The old differences were long ago for- 
gotten, his Majesty said, and the Second King's palace was 
waiting to welcome its master. But the Second King, good 
Siamese that he was, had his own suspicions about such fine 
protestations of forgiveness and friendship, and declined the 
invitation. His suspicions were verified four or five years after- 
ward when, in accordance with his dying request, his body was 
carried back to Siam to be there cremated, for the King refused 
to allow any funeral honors to be paid to the rebel and threw 
the bones into the Menam after first exposing them to the 
vultures. 

Besides the pagodas of the royal city there are innumerable 
other temples which the King must visit every year. Some of 
these pagodas are poor in possessions and quite lacking in in- 
terest, but the oldest and most original of them, Vat Cheng, is 
well worth a visit. The building is the highest in the city, and 
is especially imposing with its phra chedi — the gold of which is 
scarcely tarnished by time — its bold spires that seem almost to 
pierce the sky, and the multicolored windows of its pylons glit- 
tering in the sun. 

The pagoda was built more than a century ago by )^hya- 
Tak as a memorial of his victory over the Burmese, and it 
occupies a vast site in the centre of which towers a quadrangu- 
lar pyramid two hundred feet in height. 

Beneath this pyramid, which dominates the whole city, are 
buried precious relics of Buddha. Each one of its four faces is 
furnished with a stairway, by means of which it is possible to 
climb two-thirds of the distance to the top, and three circular 
galleries, placed at equal distances, offer a resting place where 



»70 BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. [Nov., 



the weary climber may pause to take breath and admire the 
magnilicent view which is -spread out before his eyes. 

From the ground to the first gallery one sees nothing but 
grinning genii and hideous granite gods. Mosaics of porcelain 
— quite remarkable considering the fact that they are made en- 
tirely of broken cups — adorn the second and third galleries, 
which are reached by almost perpendicular steps. Above the 
third gallery there is an enormous white elephant with three 
heads, a symbol of the triple incarnation of Buddha. 

From this point there is a marvellous view. The city with 
its pagodas and fairy palaces stretches out as far as eye can 
reach, while at one's feet flows the Menam, into which the 
numberless arroyos that play the part of sewers are seen to 
empty. The noises from the arsenal before which the royal 
fieet is anchored greet the ear, and, if the day is clear, one 
may just distinguish in the distance the beautiful pagoda and 
the strong fortifications of Paknam, which guard the mouth of 
the river. 

The descent of the Vat Cheng is not only difficult but 
dangerous, and it is wise to go down backwards, clinging to 
any projecting stone or shrub that offers. The pagoda is very 



I903.J BANGKOK: THE VENICE OF THE FAR EAST. \^\ 

much neglected and begins to show signs of the ruin which 
threatens it in the near future. This ruin will be an irreparable 
loss to the city, for the Vat Cheng is the only remaining ex- 
ample of the architecture of the ancient Kahmers, and its huge 
proportions and interesting features of construction inspire pro- 
found respect for the civilization and scientific knowledge 
attained by a race that has now almost entirely disappeared. 
Modern Siamese artists, despairing of rivalling their predeces- 
sors, content themselves with beautiful rather than grand, 
achievements 

The great city of Bangkok is full of the most violent con- 
trasts. Marvellous temples almost at the doors of which are 
miserable huts built of dried mud and palm-leaves ; unspeakably 
beautiful objects mingled with the most vulgar European brtc>a- 
brae; a majestic river in which muddy canals deposit rubbish 
of every kind. This very incoherence makes the city a faithful 
image of Oriental civilization, in which the king absorbs all the 
riches of the land, consenting to share them only with the 
god of whom he is, tn the eyes of his subjects, the living 
incarnation. 

Note —According to ihe lost compulaiion Ihe number of Roman Catholic churchei in 
Siam li 68. Five of Uicse ore in the cily of Bangkok and Ihe olhen are spread ihroughont 
the interior. Generally speaking, there is a school attached lo each station or church, and the 
(dial number of schools is 73. These schools contain 4,777 pupils. The principal educational 
Intlilutioni under the Roman Catholic Missioti are Assumpiion College (490 pupils), the 
Convent School (130 pupils), and the College of the Sacred Heart (6a pupils). The whole 
number of Roman Catholics in Siam is about 33,000. And these are under the direction 
of I Bishops, say 38 Fathers, 6 Sisters, and several Brothers of St. Gabllel. 

The number of Protestant Christian churches in Siam is 99. Five of these are in the city 
of Bangkok and the others are spread throughout the country. These churches comprise an 
actual strength of 1.945 active members. — Han. HamUtam Kuig, Vn'Uid Statu Atinaltrto Siam. 



Certain Characteristics of Dante. [No' 



CERTAIN CHARACTERISTICS OF DANTE. 

BY A. C. STORER. 

" Ah J from whal agonies of heart and bra<n, 
What exulUlions trampling on despair, 
What leDderneis, irhBl (ears, what hale of wrong, 
Whal pasilonale outcry of a soul in pain, 
Uprose thii poem of the earth and air, 
This medieval miracle of song I " 

— LeitgfiUea m tkt " Dniimi Ctmaudia."* 

iHE Student who would hope to even partially 
fathom the character of Dante Alighieri must 
study not merely the general conditions of the 
time wherein he lived, but the specific condi- 
tions which tended to form his intense and many- 
sided nature. These latter conditions, though but broadly out- 
lined for posterity by the poet himself and by contemporaneous 
testimony, are yet so clearly defined as to show with convinc- 
ing certainty the relations between his strangely contrasted dual 
life — outwardly marked by sorrow and strife, hopes baffled, 
ideals unrealized — inwardly " so crowned and mitred o'er him- 
self " t by the searching discipline that his influence for ever 
endures, showing unto other men how they too may attain 
with him 

"That perfect pardon which is perfect peace."! 
Born at Florence in May, 1265, of a noble family adhering 
to the Guelph party, Dante, when but a boy of nine, first be- 
held the child, Beatrice Portinari, 

". . . that youngest of God's angels," § 
whose coming into his life colored all its after course. 
"Already in my sight was she 
Who from the hearing of aught else had shut me ! " [| 

* The tfantlatkins of the Cemmtdia used are by Longfellow. 
i Par^altrie, xxvil. 143. t Longfellow, Ite. eit. $ yUa Ntaua. 

I . . . negli occhi m'era 
Quella chad allro 'nlender mavea chluso." 

— Ptirgvlerh. xxxii. 93, 
Cf, Paradiso, xxi. 1-3. 



I902.] Certain Characteristtcs of Dante. 



The elder Alighieri's death in the following year tended, as 
could no other event, to deepen the thoughtful lad's nature and 
develop at an early age those fundamental qualities of self-con- 
trol and self-reliance so strikingly evident throughout his varied 
life. Under the wise guidance of his mother. Donna Bella, he 
received the most liberal primary education obtainable in those 
days, and in due course of time passed on to the great univer- 
sities of Padua, Bologna, and Paris, there to master several lan- 
guages and acquire a range of learning justly styled by his 
biographers encyclopaedic. 

While Dante's great mental gifts were developed and disci- 
plined by study, undoubtedly the scholarly atmosphere sur- 
rounding him at Florence, whither he returned after his univer- 



174 Certain Characteristics OF Dante. [Nov., 

sity training, had quite as much influence on his intellectual 
development. In Florence, then as now Firenze la bellissima^ 
he became the friend and companion of the very master spirits 
of the age, — men of such varied attainments as Guido Caval- 
canti, the philosopher; Brunetto Latini, the poet; Casella, the 
musician ; and Giotto and Cimabue. There also was laid the 
foundation of that intimate knowledge of human character so 
strikingly evident throughout all his writings, for within her 
walls life's extremest contrasts met, — all that is noblest, all that 
is lowest, — no changing phase of the great city's life, the great 
city's Commedia, escaping the eagle eye and sensitive brain des- 
tined to fix their lineaments for all time in " the mystic un- 
fathomable song." 

As a " novice in arms " Dante fought at Campaldino,* and 
later assisted at the siege of Caprona.t Soon after his return 
to Florence from these military engagements Beatrice Portinari, 
who had become the wife of Simone dei Bardi, died, the passing 
of *' that most gentle one " — questa gentilissima \ — plunging the 
poet into the most profound grief. His subsequent marriage 
with Gemma dei Donati, though blessed with a large family, 
does not appear to have brought him happiness. With his 
marriage Dante's political career began. Boccaccio says: ''The 
care of a family drew him to that of the Republic, in which he 
was so soon enveloped by the vain honors which are conjoined 
with public office that, without perceiving whence he came or 
whither he went, he abandoned himself almost entirely to the 
occupations of government." In 1300, at the age of thirty-five, 
" in the midway of the journey of his life," — nel mezzo del cant- 
min di nostra (sua) vita^% — he was elected one of the six priori, 
or chief magistrates of Florence, an election from which, as he 
himself declares, " my ills and my troubles all had occasion and 
beginning, — an election of which, though I was not worthy in 
respect of wisdom, yet I was not unworthy in fidelity and age."|| 
Political factions ran high and fiercely at the time, and the con- 
test between the Neri under Corso Donati and the Bianchi un- 
der Vieri Cerchi finally reached such a climax of fury that His 
Holiness Pope Boniface VIII., finding his best efforts as peace- 
maker were unavailing and that strong measures were now 

• Aretino quotes a letter of Dante in which he says : " I felt much fear, but in the end the 
greatest pleasure from the various changes of the fight." 

\ inferno, xxi. 95. X Vita Nuova, xxix. ^Inferno, i. i. 

II From a letter cited by the historian, Leonardo Bruni. 



I902.] Certain Characteristics of Dante. 175 

necessary, called upon Charles of Valois to restore order in 
Florence. 

The Holy Father's intention being learned in Florence, Dante 
was at once sent to Rome by the Bianchi to protest against the 
threatened French interference. Although unable to dissuade 
Pope Boniface from his purpose, this first visit to the Eternal 
City, in the year of Jubilee 13CX), was not without mighty con- 
sequences. On Dante's return to Florence, bearing the Holy 
Father's unfavorable decision, the Bianchi were thrown into a 
state of absolute dismay, and, as pre-eminently their ablest repre- 
sentative, he was again sent, with two companions, on a sup- 
pliant mission to Rome. From this second embassy he was 
never to return to Florence. Immediately after the delegates' 
departure, Corso Donati forced his way into the city, threw open 
its gates to Valois, and the Neri seized the reins of government. 
One of their first acts was to accuse the absent Bianchi of 
pecuniary dishonesty while in office, and to sentence them to 
the payment of a heavy fine and perpetual exclusion from all 
offices of state. Dante scorned even to deny the baseless charge, 
and a second sentence was pronounced condemning the accused 
to be burned alive if taken within the boundaries of the Floren- 
tine republic. During the nineteen years of mortal life remain- 
ing to him, those sad yet fruitful years which gave the Commedia 
to posterity, Dante wandered from one petty Ghibelline court to 
another in Lombardy, Tuscany, and Romagna, learning by bitter 
experience how piteous a thing it is to 

** . . . abandon everything beloved 
Most tenderly: this the arrow is 
Which first the bow of banishment shoots forth. 

. . . how savoreth of salt 
The bread of others, and how hard a road 
The going up and down another's stairs."* 

His own words best describe the wandering, homeless life to 
which he was henceforth condemned. "After it had pleased 
the citizens of that most fair and favored daughter of Rome, 

* " Tu lascerai ogni cosa diletta 

Piii caramente : e questo e quelle strale, 
Che I'arco dell' esilio pria saetta. 
Tu proverai si come sa di sale 
Lo pane altrui, q com' h duro calle 

Lo scendere, e '1 salia per raltrui scale." — ParaiUso, xvii. 55-60. 
VOL. LXXVI.— 12 



176 Certain Characteristics OF Dante. [Nov., 

Florence, to cast me forth from her sweet bosom, where I was 
brought up to the prime of life, and where, with all peace to 
her, I long with all my heart to rest my weary soul and finish 
the time allotted to me, I have passed through almost all the 
regions to which this language extends, a wanderer, almost a 
beggar, displaying against my will the stroke of fortune, which 
is ofttimes wont unjustly to be imputed to the person stricken. 
Truly I have been a ship without sail or helm, carried about to 
divers harbors, gulfs, and shores, by that parching wind which 
sad poverty breathes." • Yet longing as he did with all the 
ardor of his impassioned soul to return to Florence, that 



<( 



fair sheep-fold where a lamb I slumbered," f 



yearning for the dear ties of home and friends and kindred, 
never once did this immovable Dante, this enduring oneX swerve 
from his high purpose to forego all flesh and blood count dear 
rather than be false to his soul's ideals. In 1316 he was offered 
a safe return to Florence on condition of paying a fine and 
publicly acknowledging his criminality. His spirited reply to 
this proposition, conveyed to the Florentine authorities through 
a religious, evidently a kinsman, is, as Mr. Lowell says, " still 
hot, after these five centuries, with indignant scorn." § ** Is this, 
then, the glorious fashion of Dante Alighieri's recall to his 
country after suffering exile for well-nigh three lustres ? (over 
fifteen years). Is this the due recompense of his innocence 
manifest to all ? This the fruit of his abundant sweat and toil 
endured in study ? . . . This, Father, is not the way to re- 
turn to my country; but if by you or by another there can be 
found another way that shall not derogate from Dante's fame 
and honor, readily will I thereto betake myself. But if by no 
honorable way can entrance be found into Florence there will I 
never enter. What ? Can I not from any corner of the earth 
behold the sun and the stars ? Can I not under every climate 
of heaven meditate the all sweet truths, except I first make 
myself a man of no glory, but rather of ignominy in the face 
of the people and city of Florence ? Nor shall I want for 
bread." || Thus nobly and immovably resolved, Dante lived on 
in exile till in September, 1321, being attacked by a grave 

* CoMvito, i. 3. t " Del bello ovile, ovio dormii aquello," Paradiso, xxv. 5. 

X A literal translation of the name Durante, of which Dante is a contraction. 

$ J. R. Lowell, Among my Books, second series, p. 15. 

II Rpls. Amico Florentine. Letter cited by Maria Trancesca Rossetti : The Shadow of Dante ^ 



I902.] Certain Characteristics of Dante. 177 

malady, he passed onward in such gentle, humble wise as he had 
himself said should be the manner of all great souls' departure 
hence. " Natural death is, as it were, a haven and rest to us 
after long navigation. And the noble soul is like a good 
mariner; for he, when he draws near the port, lowers his sails 
and enters it softly with feeble steerage." • Boccaccio relates 
that "after he had humbly and devoutly received all the last 
holy sacraments according to the rites of the church, and had 
made his peace with God, he gave back his weary soul to his 
Creator," to the unfailing, infinite Love Divine whereof he had 
sung so faithfully and to such high purpose, — " the Love which 
moves the sun and all the stars" — CAmor eke muove il Sole e 
raltre stelle,^ 

To attempt to analyze, however imperfectly, a human charac- 
ter is always a difficult task, and becomes all the more so when 
the nature under consideration is so many sided as that of 

** Dante stern 
And sweet, whose spirit wa$ an urn 
For wine and milk poured out in turn."} 

Still, the personality of the great poet is as indelibly reflected 
in the Commedia as are the events of his outward life, and 
turning to its pages we may hope to learn something at least 
of that nature's depth and earnestness. 

No one can enter into even the most superficial study of 
the Commedia without becoming immediately convinced that its 
author was an idealist in all things ; in his ideal love for 
Beatrice, in his Utopian dream of the Holy Roman Empire, — 
above all, in ever living as he did in a silent ideal world of 
his own even while engaged in the avocations of practical life. 
In so brief a paper it is impossible to even touch upon Dante's 
political ideals; but his ideal love for Beatrice must be con- 
sidered at length in order to understand how completely that 
exalted passion took possession of his life. From their very 
first meeting as children in her father's home, Beatrice is to him 
of a nature more than human, '* the glorious lady of his mind " 
as of his heart — la gloriosa donna del la miamente % — through 
whom he raises himself ** above the common herd," || and who, 
ever teaching him to love virtue, T[ leads him in the fullest sense 

• CoHvito, iv. a8, quoting Cicero. f Pamdiso, xxxiii. 145. 

t E B. Browning, A Vision of Poets. $ Vita Nuova, i. 

^/m/ento, ii. 105. \Ptirgatorio, xxx. 123. 



178 Certain Characteristics OF Dante, [Nov., 

from "slavery unto freedom/'* unto that freedom which is 
" the glorious liberty of the children of God."t Yet there are 
degrees in the spiritual development of this sublimated devotion. 
During her life the thought of " this most gentle one " — questa 
g;entilissima\ — is ever with him, shielding from evil, from 
temptation; but it is only after the death of Beatrice that the 
vision of her as ** the true praise of God " — loda di Dio vera % 
— comes to be life of his life, becomes the inspiration not merely 
to holiness but the inspiration of holiness itself, so completely 
does Dante's love for Beatrice become spiritualized, so wholly 
IS she to him **the brightness of eternal light, the unspotted 
mirror of God's majesty, and the image of his goodness." || 
" As St. Francis worshipped God in nature and called upon 
the sun, moon, and stars to give him honor, so Dante saw in 
Beatrice a creature of the Divine goodness and beauty, and gave 
glory to God in her." ^ How impossible for one thus mastered 
by an ideal love to find his soul's strength and inspiration in 
an uncongenial maA'iage ! Poor Gemma Donati ! We can well 
believe that in her practical eyes all that made life luminous 
for Dante was folly indeed ; the ideal world where Beatrice held 
sway, the world of the schools and philosophers for ever luring 
this mystic dreamer from the performance of his parental duties 
and from the administration of his property.** 

When Beatrice died, Dante in the first passion of his grief 
vowed '* to say of her that which never yet was said of any 
(woman)." tt Yet years passed and beseemed unmindful of his 
vow. He was attracted by the allurements of life; he married, 
held high offices ; he fought, argued, contended — outwardly his 
life was all of the world worldly. What crucial event was it 
which brought back the old high hopes and high resolves, 
which suddenly arrested his progress *' half way upon the road 

* Paradiso, xxxi. 85. f Romans viii. 21. % Vita Nuova, xxix. ^Inferno, ii. 103. 

Book of Wisdom, vii. 26, as quoted by Dante, ConvUo, iii. 15. 

^ F. Hettinger, Dante's Divina Commedia : Its Scope and Value, p. 16. 

•• The only woman's view of Dante's home-life known to the compiler may be quoted in 
this connection. Josef a von Hoffinger closes her loving and sympathetic tribute To Dante* s 
Wife with words many a student of the great idealist will fervently re-echo : 

" Yes, thou brave woman, mother of his sons, 
'Twas thine to know the weight of daily care ; 
'Twas thine to understand those piteous tones, 
Thine much to suffer, all in silence bear ; 
How great thy grief, thy woes how manifold, 
God only knows — of them no song hath told." 
\\ Vita Nuova, xliii. — Plumptres translation. 



I902.] Certain Characteristics of Dante, . 179 

of life," * and showed him to have lost the right path, to be 
drifting alike from Beatrice and from the Good Supreme she 
symbolized to him ? Six centuries have passed since the period 
of time we are considering, but we who have so recently lived 
through a century's culmination, a year of Jubilee, do not 
wonder that this turning point in Dante's career is found to 
correspond with the date of his first embassy to Rome, in the 
year of Jubilee 1300. Ever loving the Church of Christ so in- 
tensely as did this fiery and passionate soul, it was natural 
perhaps thai now and later he should cry out in unmeasured 
terms against the evils disgracing the lives of certain ones 
among her clergy. Still, we find in studying the Commedia, 
as in studying all the writings of Dante, ''when true to his 
higher instincts, the distinction between the Church, the holy 
and the pure, the Bride of the Eternal Bridegroom, and the ac- 
cidents of unworthy lives, hard, unfeeling lives — worse still, 
luxurious lives — comes out in verse and prose as clearly as it 
could be expressed by any Father of the church, or seen by 
the loyal heart of any child of the church then or now or 
ever." f Therefore it was that, as a faithful Catholic, Dante, 
while responding to the Jubilee's summons to repentance and 
renewal of life, was stirred to the very depths of his soul by 
the moving sights about him ; the great multitudes, one in the 
Faith with him as they are one with us to-day, pouring into 
the Eternal City from every country in Christendom, stirred by 
the eloquent associations of Rome's holy places, — her glorious 
churches, the tombs of the Apostles and the martyrs, the 
hallowed passages of her subterranean city where the early 
Christians lived their crucified, prayerful lives and fell asleep so 
joyfully in our Lord. All the blessed influences of the Jubilee 
time — outward and those of the spirit — worked mightily upon the 
sensitive soul of Dante and bore fruit not alone in his life, but 
in that great poem, truly **the precious life-blood of a master- 
spirit embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond 
life," X which, if written primarily to make the name of Beatrice 
immortal, nobly fulfils a far loftier purpose, that of showing 
unto all generations the "way by which that country far be- 
yond the stars may be reached, may become the habitual 

• Inferno^ f , i. 

fRcv. G. McDcnnot, C.S.P., " Dante's Theory of Papal Politics," Catholic World Ma^t^ 
»imi, June, 1897. 

I Milton's definition of enduring literature in the Areopa^itUa, 



i8o Certain Characteristics of Dante. [Nov., 

dwelling-place and fortress of our nature/' * Dante himself 
bears evidence to his peculiarly sensitive nature, which, in an 
unusual degree, was given to assimilating surrounding in- 
fluences. 

" What became I, who by my nature am 

Exceeding mutable in every guise." t 

Living as he did in the age of the Friars, when all men re- 
garded nature with the eyes of Faith, he proves himself on 
countless occasions not merely a lover of nature for its own 
isake, but a Franciscan nature- lover, or rather a Catholic nature- 
lover, who with enlightened spiritual discernment looks beneath 
her manifold outward loveliness and beholds so many witnesses 
to the "Goodness Divine that doth imprint the world," { — our 
Father Almighty, from whom cometh "every best gift, and 
every perfect gift" — '* Pleni sunt cwli et terra gloria ///^." 

" The glory of Him who moveth everything 
Doth penetrate the universe, and shine 
In one >part more and in another less." ^ 

Again, Dante*s wide classical knowledge bears the impress 
of the time wherein he lived. From the very first ages, but 
especially during the thirteenth century, the church encouraged 
the study of the classics, — " to show the truths which even 
heathen philosophy could discover, and what great deeds heathen 
heroes in the natural order could perform," || as she regarded 
antiquity "in its degree like the old dispensation, both by 
likeness and contrast, ' a schoolmaster ' leading to Christ, and 
as such it appears in the Commedia.'' If 

So, too, Dante's exalted conception of womankind, as shown 
by his reverence for thore "three blessed ladies," •• Beatrice, 
St. Lucy, and our Blessed Mother, may be mentioned as an- 
other trait in his character, due, no doubt, in great measure, to 
the formative tendencies of his particular age. 

The influence of Catholic teaching upon the poet is also 
seen in the special bent characterizing his love for the fine arts. 

• J. R. Lowell, essay on Dante, Among my Books, second series, p. 124. 

t " lo, chc pur di mia natura 

Trasmutabile son per tutte guise." — Paradise, v. 98. 
J " La divina bont«\, chc *1 mondo imprenta," Ibid., vii. 109. 

$ " La gloria di colui, chc tutto muove, 
Per I'universo penetra, e rispleade 
In una parte, pin, e meno altrove." — Ibid., i. I. 
H Hettinger, loc. at. H ibid. ** Inferno, n. 124. 



I902.] Certain Characteristics OF DANTE. i8i 

One of the most charming passages in the Vita Nuova describes 
his painting, on the first anniversary of Beatrice's death, an 
angel " from her image as stamped upon my memory " ;  the 
marvellous use of color introduced in the description of the 
triple stairs, — symbols of contrition, confession, and satisfaction, — 
leading to the first terrace of Purgatory,t and still more strik- 
ingly employed in celebrating the triumph of the church ; % 
the figures of Humility sculptured along the wall of the First 
Circle of Purgatory, — beginning with our sweetest, holiest ex- 
ample, the Virgin Mary wrapt in reverent adoration before the 
Angel's greeting, " Hail, full of grace ! " '^ the images of rebel- 
lious Pride on the pavement which the proud of heart, bowed 
beneath heavy burdens, are forced to gaze upon;|| these and 
countless other instances reveal an artist's power. 

No strain of music is heard in the Inferno^ but throughout 
the Purgatorio and the Paradise passages abound showing 
Dante's sensitive appreciation for the highest forms of music. 
He never wearies in dwelling in imagination on the Hosannas of 
the Angels. ^ In the Purgatorufs exquisite paraphrase of the 
Pater Master the angels sing Hosannas while they do God's will : 

" Even as thine own Angels of their will 

Make sacrifice to Thee, Hosannas singing, 
So may all men make sacrifice of theirs." ^ 

The frequent allusions to the hymns and psalms and offices of 
Mother Church show how dear they were to Dante's Catholic 
mind. One of the souls in the Ante Purgatory sings the Salve 
Regina and then joins in the Compline hymn : 

'' Te lucis ante so devoutly issued 

Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes 
It made me issue forth from my own mind. 
And then the others sweetly and devoutly 
Accompanied it through all the hymn entire 
Having their eyes on the supernal wheels." •♦ 

• VUa Nuova, xxxv. \ Purgatorio, ix. 94. Xlbid., xxix. %lhid., x. || Ibid., xii. 64. 

IT " Come del suo voler gli Angeli tuoi 

Fan sacrificio a te, cantando Osanna, 
Cos\ facciano gli uomini de' suoi." — Purgatorio, xi. 10. 
"TV lucis ante si divotamente 

Le uscl di bocca, e con si dolci note, 
Che fece me a me uscir di mente : 
E I'altre poi dolcemente e divote 

Seguitar lei per tutto I'inno intero, 

Avendo gli occhi alia superne ruote." — Ibid., viii. 13. 



1 82 Certain Characteristics of Dante. [Nov., 

Each beatitude of the Sermon on the Mount as a separate an- 
them greets the pilgrim in his passage from one circle to 
another of the Mount of Purification, and anthems and suppli- 
cations meet him at every point — the Agftus Dei, * the Gloria in 
Excelsis,\ the Labia mea, Domine^X the Venite, benedicti Patris 
mei. ^ In the passage of Lethe he hears the Asperses me, \\ 
a " delicious melody " heralds the Triumph of the Church,^ 
and, most beautiful tribute to music's ennobling power, it is 
the compassionate song of the angels chanting, In Te, Domine 
speravi, that at last moves his soul to perfect repentance as he 
stands sunk in shame before Beatrice. ** Through the ascent 
of Paradise the divine music grpws more and more glorious till 
finally, in the Heaven of the Fixed Stars, the harmonies culmin- 
ate in the music of that lyre 

"Wherewith was crowned the sapphire beautifuL"tt 

In considering Dante's marvellous range of knowledge, one 
of his most thoughtful critics writes as follows: 

" Our admiration is indefinitely increased when we remember 
the difficulties under which this surprising, amount of learning 
was amassed. When we reflect that it was in the days before 
the invention of printing, when books existed only in manu- 
script, and were consequently very rare and precious and diffi- 
cult of access, . . . when ... we add to . . . 
this the consideration of the circumstances of Dante's own life, — 
a turbulent, wandering, unsettled life, one of which we may 
truly say * without were fightings, within were fears ' ; one in- 
tensely preoccupied with fierce political struggles and anxieties, 
when ' politics ' (if we may use so misleading a term) were a 
question of life and death to those who engaged in them, and 
defeat meant, as in Dante*s own case, exile, confiscation, ruin, 
. . . Dante is a striking example of what Mr. A. J. But- 
ler has well termed 'the incredible diligence of the Middle 
Ages.' " %% 

That Dante, so thorough a universalist in knowledge, was 
possessed of an unusually retentive and exact memory is evi- 
dent. Apparently the details of what he saw and heard were 
stored away unconsciously, to be drawn upon at will. 

* Purgatorio, xvi. 19. \ Ibid., xx. 136. Xlbid., xxiii. 11. ^Ibid., xxvii. 58. 

|] Ibid., xxxi. 97. T Ibid., xxix. 22. ** Ibid., xxx. 92. 

ft " Onde si coronava il bel zaffiro," Paradiso, xxiii. loi. 

U Edward Moore, D.D., Studies in Dante, first series, p. 2. 



I902.] Certain Characteristics of Dante. 183 

" O memory, that didst write down what I saw, 
Here thy nobility shall be manifest." • 

"When I this invitation heard, deserving 
Of so much gratitude, it never fades 
Out of the book that chronicles the past. " f 

Only the divine sights and sounds of Paradise his memory can- 
not retain : 

'' But Beatrice so beautiful and smiling 

Appeared to me, that with the other sights 

That followed not my memory, I must leave her." f 

Thus, whatever Dante found in mankind and in life he appro- 
priated to himself, thereby proving, as Mgr. Hettinger says, his 
genius to consist " not so much in creating what was new, as 
in gathering up and recasting the dominant ideas of his time, 
and in giving them unity and form. . . . He is the imper- 
sonation of his age, a living mirror of all that filled the minds 
and stirred the hearts and wills of the nations."^ Carlyle ex- 
presses the same conviction: ''Dante is the spokesman of the 
Middle Ages. The Thought they lived by stands here (in the 
Divina Commedid) in everlasting music. These sublime ideas 
of his, terrible and beautiful, are the fruit of the Christian 
meditation of all the good men who had gone before him." || 

Throughout the Commedia, and indeed in all his writings, 
Dante reveals himself continually as fairly overflowing with 
sympathy and tenderness for his fellow-men. His love for 
Guido Cavalcanti, his " first friend," is repeatedly dwelt upon.^f 
In the Purgatorio he responds eagerly to the shade of "mine 
own Casella" coming to greet him with outstretched arms,** 
and in the presence of human suffering he is moved to tears. ff 
This side of Dante's nature is further revealed by his frequent 

• " O mente, che scrivesti ci6, ch* io vidi, 

Qui si parr^ la tua nobilitatc." — Inferno, ii. 8. 

t " Quando io udi' questa profferta, deg;na 

Di tanto grado, che mai non si stringue 
Del libro, che '1 preterite rassegna." — Paradiso, xxiii. 5a. 
Note the similarity to the opening words of the Vita Nuova. 

X " Ma Beatrice si bella e ridente 

Mi si mostrd, che tra 1' altre vedute 

Si vuol lasciar, che non seguir lamente." 

— Ibid., xiv. 79, 

$ Hettinger, loc, cit. || Thomas Carlyle, Heroes and Hero Worship: The Hero as Poet. 

If Vita Nticva, iii.; Ibid., xxiii.; Inferno, x. 58. ** Purgatorio, ii. 88. 

\\ Inferno, xx. 20. Cf, ibid., xiii. 8a; xxix. i ; Purgatorio, xiii. 52. 



1 84 Certain Characteristics of Dante. [Nov., 

allusions to children and the tender bond between mother and 
child. In his conception of the new-born soul he sings: 

" Forth from the hand of Him who fondles it 
Before it is, like to a little girl 
Weeping and laughing in her childish sport, 
Issues the simple soul, that nothing knows, 
Save that, proceeding from a joyous maker, 
Gladly it turns to that which gives it pleasure " ; * 

and in the presence of Beatrice, 

" Even as children silent in their shame 

Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, 
And conscious of their fault, and penitent ; 
So was I standing." f 

This gentleness of soul is still further emphasized by many 
references to the unnatural birthplace which had cast him forth 
an exile upon earth. Even while crying out upon the injustice 
done him by fair Florence, his words still breathe tenderness 
for Fiorenza mia^ still the "sweet sound of his native land" is 
dear to him. % 

Because Dante's love was all powerful, so, too, his scorn, 
severity, and even vindictiveness, when aroused, reached tran- 
scendent heights. He bears unutterable contempt and aversion 
for those who do not act a manly part, but are content to live 
as mere negations and cowards, "hateful to God and to the 
enemies of God" — a Dio spiacenti^ ed a'netnici sin\ — "we will 
not speak of them, but look and pass" — non ragionar di lor^ 
ma guarday e passa,\ 

That the great poet oftentimes yielded to extreme bitter- 

• " Esce di mano a lui, che la vagheggia, 
Prima che sia. a guisa di fanciuila, 
Che piangendo, e ridendo pargoleggia. 
L'anima semplicetta, che sa nulla, 
Salvo, che mossa da lieto fattore, 
Volentier torna a cio che la irastulla." 

— Purgatorio, xvi. 85-95. 

t " Quale i fanciulli, vergognando. muti 

Con gli occhi a terra stannosi ascoltando, 
E se riconoscendo, e ripentuli ; 
Tal mi stav* io." — Ibid,, xxxi. 64. 

Cf. Inftnto, xxiii. 37; Furgatorio, xxiv. 107; Ibid., xxx. 47, 79; Paradiso, i. loa; Ibid, xv, 
121 ; Ibid., xvi. 60 ; Ibid , xxii. 2 ; Ibid., xxiii. 121 ; Ibid., xxx. 83. 140. 

XPurgaiorio, vi. 127. ^Inferno, iii. 65. ^Ibid,, iii. 51. 



I902.] Certain Characteristics of Dante, 185 

ness in his political trials is but too apparent, and that he was 
held captive by pride, that "mighty lion of overmastering 
strength," * he himself confesses.! Still, these human frailties, 
serious though they are, serve but to bring out by sharper 
contrast the high lights in the character of this "scarred vet- 
eran of a life-long war." 

When all is said, Dante Alighieri "bequeathed unto the 
future peoples" the memory of one who, though outwardly he 
was as " a ship without a sail and without a rudder," % yet 
rose ever steadily heavenward upon the deep waters of adver- 
sity, and so came at last unto the desired haven, — the knowl- 
edge of God's will as 

" . . . our peace ; this is the sea 
To which is moving onward whatsoever 
It doth create, and all that nature makes." "^ 

Our most discriminating Dante critic, James Russell Lowell, 
says: "At the round table of King Arthur there was left 
always one seat empty for him who should accomplish the ad- 
venture of the Holy Grail. It was called the perilous seat be- 
cause of the dangers he must encounter who would win it. In 
the company of the epic poets there was a place left for who- 
ever should embody the Christian idea of a triumphant life, 
outwardly all defeat, inwardly victorious, who should make us 
partakers of that cup of sorrow in which all are communicants 
with Christ. He who should do this would indeed achieve the 
perilous Seat, . . . and Dante has done it. As he takes 
possession of it, we seem to bear the cry he himself heard 
when Virgil rejoined the company of great singers, 

" ' All honor to the loftiest of poets.' " || 

^ Inferno t i, 45. \ Furgatorio, xiii. 133. \ Convito, i. 3. 

$ " In la sua volontade k nostra pace : 
Ella h quel mare, al qual tutto si muove 
Ci6, ch'ella cria, o che natura face." 

— Paradise, iii. 85. 
Cf, ParadisOt'i. ii^\ Ibid., xxx. loa; and St. Augustine's Confessiones, " Fecisti nos ad 
Te, etinquietum est cor nostrum donee requiescat in Te." 

II Among My Books, second series, p. 124. 



The Photograph of a Ghost. [Nov., 



THE PHOTOGRAPH OF A GHOST. 

BY GRACE V. CHRISTMAS, 



ND do you mean to tell me that this house is really 
haunted ? " 

" So they say. We are not the original pos- 
sessors, you know. They were Catholics and 
could boast of a priestly apparition — a cowled 
monk, so I have heard — but I have never been fortunate enough 
to interview him. Not spiritual enough myself, I suppose^" 

And as he spoke Claude Loftus glanced at the girl beside 
him with a gleam of amusement in his blue eyes. 

She looked at him gravely. " Yes, I guess that is the rea- 
son." 

It was the first time Maisie Moore had ever found herself 
in the role of guest in an English country house ; the first 
time, indeed, that she had crossed the Atlantic, and her present 
existence was, as she expressed it, "just like a story book." 
Everything was so old in one sense and so new in another, and 
Buckley Manor, where she was staying with the parents of a 
school friend, was so emphatically a house "with a past" that 
it was a never-ceasing joy to her. 

It was five o'clock, and the whole party were assembled in 
what was known as the oak parlor for afternoon tea. Colonel 
and Mrs. Loftus, Claude, the only son. Rose and Cecily, the 
two daughters, Mrs. Beauclerc, the writer of a recent successful 
play, and Maisie Moore, the American girl. 

" Really a ghost," she was now murmuring ecstatically ; 
" how lovely ! " 

"But you do not believe in them?" 

It was Mrs. Beauclerc who put the question, her dark, ear- 
nest eyes fixed on the girl's flower-like face. Maisie was quite 
a new type to her, and she found her an interesting study. 



I902.] The Photograph of a Ghost 187 

" Of course I believe in them. We are so near the spirit 
world, just a thin veil dividing us, and sometimes there is a rent 
in the veil and we see those that are beyond." As the girl 
spoke her eyes brightened and a pink flush rose to her ethereal, 
almost transparent face. 

" If any one sees the monk in this house it will be you," 
remarked Claude with conviction. •* The rest of us are far too 
material." 

"That is a very sweeping assertion, Mr. Loftus," retorted 
Mrs. Beauclerc with a laugh. 

" I will tell you what, Maisie," put in Cecily eagerly ; " you 
shall take a photo of the haunted room to-morrow as a souve- 
nir of your visit, and, who knows, perhaps he may appear to 
you." 

" Very well," said Maisie. " That will be just lovely." 

" But, Miss Moore," interrupted Mrs. Beauclerc, " tell me — 
what possible object could a monk have in 'revisiting the 
glimpses of the moon ' in Buckley Manor ? It was never a 
monastery. What is your theory ? I can see you have one." 

Maisie raised her limpid eyes to the elder woman's face. 
She admired her with all an intelligent and cultured girl's en- 
thusiasm for talent and brilliancy, but there were moments when 
she suspected the existence of a flaw in the crystal. 

" I guess he wants prayers," she said simply. 

The author of A Woman's Passion raised her eyebrows with 
a little mocking laugh. 

" Prayers ! " she echoed. " He must be past praying for by 
now, I should imagine. What a fanciful idea ! " 

" It is not at all fanciful," replied Maisie calmly. An Eng- 
lish girl might have thought twice before embarking on an ar- 
gument with her present opponent, but the American's assur- 
ance, founded in this case on the solidity of her own religious 
convictions, stood to her in this emergency. 

" The monk who haunts this house," she went on in the 
explanatory manner with which one instructs a child, " is very 
possibly undergoing his Purgatory in this very spot. The church 
has never deflned exactly where Purgatory is, and sometimes, in 
order to obtain prayers, he is allowed to make his presence 
known and visible. He appeared, you see, to the first owners 
of this house, who were, as you say. Catholics, and very pos- 
sibly by this time their prayers have gained him his release from 



1 88 THE PHOTOGRAPH OF A GHOST. [Nov., 

suffering. That I expect is why none of you have ever seen him/* 
she continued, turning to Claude, who was leaning on the back 
of her chair, a tenderly reverential expression in his usually 
laughing eyes. 

" How nicely you say it all ! " exclaimed Mrs. Beauclerc, 
with just a touch of insolence in her languid tones. "I sup- 
pose they put you up to all that sort of thing in your convent 
school ? It is quite a pretty theory, and it does very well for 
the dear little nuns — ^just fits in with the whole environment — 
but it is a little out of date in the present century, and I 
imagined you Americans always prided yourselves on leading 
the van. We pay for our pleasures in this world sooner or 
later, at pretty high rates to some of us" — with a little shrug 
of her shoulders — " and when we die, well — there is an end of 
us altogether; 'the rest is silence.* That is the modern creed." 

*'Is that so?" inquired Maisie. ** Well it seems to me that 
it is not what one would call a satisfying one, and I prefer the 
ancient and authenticated version. I believe in the resurrection 
of the body and the life everlasting." 

" Bravo ! *' murmured Claude in an undertone. His own 
ideas concerning eternal truths were of the vaguest description, 
but he was, as he would have described it in his vocabulary, 
thoroughly " fetched " by his sister's friend, and when a man 
is in that condition of mind he is unusually open to conviction, 
and — which was also a factor in the case — there was very little 
love lost between himself and the successful playwright. 

*'We must agree to differ, then,*' said Mrs. Beauclerc, an 
expression of somewhat contemptuous amusement on her face. 
" The idea of that chit having an opinion of her own," she was 
saying to herself mentally. ** Actually the dressing bell ! How 
quickly time goes when one is interested ! " And with a 
slightly malicious smile on her lips she rose and left the room. 

"Routed, by Jove!" exclaimed Claude, gleefully; "horse, 
foot, and artillery. It was your text of Scripture that did the 
business. Miss Moore. It was Scripture, was it not ? I always 
mix the Bible up with Shakspere somehow." Then, as if 
struck by a sudden remembrance : *' I thought, by the way, 
that you Papists never read the Bible ? How is it you are so 
well up in the life everlasting and all the rest of it ? " 

"You know very little about us," said Maisie sagely; "and 
until you have learned a little more you had better refrain 



1902.J The Photograph of a Ghost. 189 

from discussing what you do not understand. You don't hear 
me laying down the law about wire fencing, or the best way 
of bringing up fox hound puppies." And with an irrepressible 
laugh at the sight of his bewildered countenance she left him 
to his own reflections. 

II. 

" Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the 
Lord hath touched me." — Job. 

When Maisie said her prayers that night she included in 
them a petition for Mrs. Beauclerc. A woman without faith: 
it seemed to her convent- bred ideas such an anomaly of nature, 
and then she found herself wishing that the monk would appear 
to Iier^ if only to prove that the suffering souls in Purgatory 
were really allowed to revisit the earth, and that there was in 
all reality a world beyond the grave. 

The next morning was bright and sunny, and after break- 
fast Rose and Cecily led the way to the haunted room. Claude 
had gone out shooting, and Mrs. Beauclerc was hard at work 
on a new play, which she intended should take the London 
world by storm in the coming season ; so the three girls were 
left to their own devices. 

" There ! " exclaimed Cecily, in a tone of triumph, as she 
opened the door ; " now you are inside the ghost's domain ; 
don't you feel creepy ? " 

For an instant Maisie made no reply. As she had said to 
Mrs. Beauclerc, the spirit world was very near to her, and now, 
as she stood gazing round her at the quaint, old-fashioned room, 
it seemed as though at any moment there might be a rent in 
the thin dividing veil. 

•' What has come to you ? " asked Rose with a laugh. 
" You look as if you saw him already. You have just the eyes 
of a ghost-seer, Maisie ! " 

Maisie roused herself from her reverie, and her gravity re- 
laxed into a smile. " What sort of eyes do they have ? Here, 
give me my camera. I shall take it from here so as to bring 
in the bed." 

"Oh, but why? It is not very ornamental." 

" Never mind ; I want it," replied Maisie decisively. 

" That was where the altar used to stand in the old days," 



1 88 The Photograph of a Ghost [Nov., 

suffering. That I expect is why none of you have ever seen him/* 
she continued, turning to Claude, who was leaning on the back 
of her chair, a tenderly reverential expression in his usually 
laughing eyes. 

** How nicely you say it all ! " exclaimed Mrs. Beauclerc, 
with just a touch of insolence in her languid tones. "I sup- 
pose they put you up to all that sort of thing in your convent 
school ? It is quite a pretty theory, and it does very well for 
the dear little nuns — ^just fits in with the whole environment — 
but it is a little out of date in the present century, and I 
imagined you Americans always prided yourselves on leading 
the van. We pay for our pleasures in this world sooner or 
later, at pretty high rates to some of us" — with a little shrug 
of her shoulders — " and when we die, well — there is an end of 
us altogether; 'the rest is silence.' That is the modern creed." 

" Is that so ? " inquired Maisie. " Well it seems to me that 
it is not what one would call a satisfying one, and I prefer the 
ancient and authenticated version. I believe in the resurrection 
of the body and the life everlasting." 

"Bravo!" murmured Claude in an undertone. His own 
ideas concerning eternal truths were of the vaguest description, 
but he was, as he would have described it in his vocabulary, 
thoroughly *' fetched " by his sister's friend, and when a man 
is in that condition of mind he is unusually open to conviction, 
and — which was also a factor in the case — there was very little 
love lost between himself and the successful playwright. 

"We must agree to differ, then," said Mrs. Beauclerc, an 
expression of somewhat contemptuous amusement on her face. 
** The idea of that chit having an opinion of her own," she was 
saying to herself mentally. ** Actually the dressing bell ! How 
quickly time goes when one is interested ! " And with a 
slightly malicious smile on her lips she rose and left the room. 

"Routed, by Jove!" exclaimed Claude, gleefully; "horse, 
foot, and artillery. It was your text of Scripture that did the 
business. Miss Moore. It was Scripture, was it not ? I always 
mix the Bible up with Shakspere somehow." Then, as if 
struck by a sudden remembrance : " I thought, by the way, 
that you Papists never read the Bible ? How is it you are so 
well up in the life everlasting and all the rest of it ? " 

"You know very little about us," said Maisie sagely; "and 
until you have learned a little more you had better refrain 



rgoa.] THE PHOTOGRAPH OF A GHOST, 189 

from discussing what you do not understand. You don't hear 
nu laying down the law about wire fencing, or the best way 
of bringing up fox hound puppies." And with an irrepressible 
laugh at the sight of his bewildered countenance she left him 
to his own reflections. 

II. 

" Hare pitr on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the 
Lord hath tooched me." — Job. 

When Maisie said her prayers that night she included in 
them a petition for Mrs. Beauclerc. A woman without faith: 
it seemed to her convent-bred ideas such an anomaly of nature, 
and then she found herself wishing that the monk would appear 
to ker^ if only to prove that the sufi'ering souls in Purgatory 
were reaUy allowed to revisit the earth, and that there was in 
all reality a world beyond the grave. 

The next morning was bright and sunny, and after break- 
fast Rose and Cecily led the way to the haunted room. Claude 
had gone out shooting, and Mrs. Beauclerc was hard at work 
on a new play, which she intended should take the London 
world by storm in the coming season; so the three girls were 
left to their own devices. 

"There!" exclaimed Cecily, in a tone of triumph, as she 
opened the door ; " now you are inside the ghost's domain ; 
don't you feel creepy?" 

For an instant Maisie made no reply. As she had said to 
Mrs. Beauclerc, the spirit world was very near to her, and now, 
as she stood gazing round her at the quaint, old-fashioned room, 
it seemed as though at any moment there might be a rent in 
the thin dividing veil. 

" What has come to you ? " asked Rose with a laugh. 
" Yoo look as if you saw him already. You have just the eyes 
of a ghost-seer, Maisie ! " 

Maisie roused herself from her reverie, and her gravity re- 
laxed into a smile. ** What sort of eyes do they have ? Here, 
give me my camera. I shall take it from here so as to brin 
in the bed." 

" Oh, but why ? It is not very ornamental." 
"Never mind; I want it," replied Maisie decisively. 
"That was where the altar used to stand in the old day . 



rr 
o 



1 88 The Photograph of a Ghost. [Nov., 

suffering. That I expect is why none of you have ever seen him," 
she continued, turning to Claude, who was leaning on the back 
of her chair, a tenderly reverential expression in his usually 
laughing eyes. 

** How nicely you say it all ! " exclaimed Mrs. Beauclerc, 
with just a touch of insolence in her languid tones. " I sup- 
pose they put you up to all that sort of thing in your convent 
school ? It is quite a pretty theory, and it does very well for 
the dear little nuns — ^just fits in with the whole environment — 
but it is a little out of date in the present century, and I 
imagined you Americans always prided yourselves on leading 
the van. We pay for our pleasures in this world sooner or 
later, at pretty high rates to some of us" — with a little shrug 
of her shoulders — " and when we die, well — there is an end of 
us altogether; 'the rest is silence.' That is the modern creed." 

*' Is that so ? " inquired Maisie. '* Well it seems to me that 
it is not what one would call a satisfying one, and I prefer the 
ancient and authenticated version. I believe in the resurrection 
of the body and the life everlasting." 

"Bravo!" murmured Claude in an undertone. His own 
ideas concerning eternal truths were of the vaguest description, 
but he was, as he would have described it in his vocabulary, 
thoroughly ** fetched " by his sister's friend, and when a man 
is in that condition of mind he is unusually open to conviction, 
and — which was also a factor in the case — there was very little 
love lost between himself and the successful playwright. 

"We must agree to differ, then," said Mrs. Beauclerc, an 
expression of somewhat contemptuous amusement on her face. 
** The idea of that chit having an opinion of her own," she was 
saying to herself mentally. ** Actually the dressing bell ! How 
quickly time goes when one is interested ! " And with a 
slightly malicious smile on her lips she rose and left the room. 

"Routed, by Jove!" exclaimed Claude, gleefully; "horse, 
foot, and artillery. It was your text of Scripture that did the 
business. Miss Moore. It was Scripture, was it not ? I always 
mix the Bible up with Shakspere somehow." Then, as if 
struck by a sudden remembrance : " I thought, by the way, 
that you Papists never read the Bible ? How is it you are so 
well up in the life everlasting and all the rest of it ? " 

"You know very little about us," said Maisie sagely; "and 
until you have learned a little more you had better refrain 



X902.J The Photograph of a Ghost. 189 

from discussing what you do not understand. You don't hear 
me laying down the law about wire fencing, or the best way 
of bringing up fox hound puppies." And with an irrepressible 
laugh at the sight of his bewildered countenance she left him 
to his own reflections. 

II. 

" Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the 
Lord hath touched me.'* — Job. 

When Maisie said her prayers that night she included in 
them a petition for Mrs. Beauclerc. A woman without faith : 
it seemed to her convent-bred ideas such an anomaly of nature, 
and then she found herself wishing that the monk would appear 
to her^ if only to prove that the suffering souls in Purgatory 
were really allowed to revisit the earth, and that there was in 
all reality a world beyond the grave. 

The next morning was bright and sunny, and after break- 
fast Rose and Cecily led the way to the haunted room. Claude 
had gone out shooting, and Mrs. Beauclerc was hard at work 
on a new play, which she intended should take the London 
world by storm in the coming season; so the three girls were 
left to their own devices. 

"There!" exclaimed Cecily, in a tone of triumph, as she 
opened the door ; " now you are inside the ghost's domain ; 
don't you feel creepy ? " 

For an instant Maisie made no reply. As she had said to 
Mrs. Beauclerc, the spirit world was very near to her, and now, 
as she stood gazing round her at the quaint, old-fashioned room, 
it seemed as though at any moment there might be a rent in 
the thin dividing veil. 

** What has come to you ? " asked Rose with a laugh. 
" You look as if you saw him already. You have just the eyes 
of a ghost-seer, Maisie I " 

Maisie roused herself from her reverie, and her gravity re- 
laxed into a smile. ** What sort of eyes do they have ? Here, 
give me my camera. I shall take it from here so as to bring 
in the bed." 

"Oh, but why? It is not very ornamental." 

" Never mind ; I want it," replied Maisie decisively. 

" That was where the altar used to stand in the old days," 



I90 THE PHOTOGRAPH OF A GHOST. [Nov., 

remarked Cecily. '' This used to be a chapel when the Lush- 
ingtons had it." 

'* Really ? " exclaimed Maisie eagerly. " Oh, then per- 
haps " — and she stopped abruptly. 

** Perhaps what ? " asked Rose curiously. 

** Oh ! nothing. I was only wondering. I shall take it from 
here." And she adjusted her camera. Just as she had com- 
pleted her operations the gong sounded for luncheon, and the 
three girls ran gaily down the broad oak staircase, leaving 
all the photographic apparatus behind them in the haunted 
room. 

*' I shall develop it to-morrow," announced Maisie as they 
reached the dining-room. " I am so longing to see how it has 
turned out" 

She was also longing for a little solitude, and after luncheon 
she escaped to her own room on the plea of writing letters. 
It had seemed to her while she was taking the photograph that 
an unseen' presence was there close beside her, — :the presence 
of one suffering. It was an impression which clung to her 
mind for the next twenty-four hours, and when she said her 
rosary that night she offered it for the souls of the forgotten 
dead. 

III. 

•• And some are saved yet so as by fire." 

** Rose 1 Cecily ! come here quickly ! " 

Maisie was standing before her kodak, her cheeks like white 
roses and her eyes dilated. 

'' Look ! " she said breathlessly, as the girls rushed into the 
room and she held out for their inspection the freshly developed 
photograph. 

** What — what an extraordinary thing ! " exclaimed Cecily 
excitedly. 

"Where? where? Let me see," clamored Rose, pushing 
her sister unceremoniously aside, and then she too broke out 
into vehement exclamations. 

There was the room just as it appeared every day, in a 
clear, well-developed photograph; but standing facing the bed, 
with his back to the rest of the apartment, stood the figure of 
a monk vested as if for saying Mass. 

"Maisie, you little wretch," suddenly exclaimed Rose, "you 



I902.] The Photograph OF A Ghost 191 

are trying to take us in ! You had that figure on one of your 
plates before and you have arranged it so that it shall come 
into the one of the room. I do call that playing it low 
down ! '* 

Maisie turned to confront her ffiend, her face flushed and 
her eyes sparkling. 

" You are talking absolute nonsense, Rose," she said. " I 
have never had a figure like that on any of my plates, and I 
am reiady to swear to it, if you like." 

" Oh rubbish ! " interposed Cecily with conviction. " If 
Maisie says so it is all right, but it is extraordinary I must say. 
What do you think about it yourself, Maisie ? " 

*' I thitik it is a poor suffering soul who is in want of pray- 
ers, and that he has been allowed to take this way of letting 
me know it, as I am the only person of his religion in the 
house." 

The two girls regarded her with a look of mingled curiosity 
and admiration. If any one else had made a similar remark 
they would, in their modern vocabulary, have termed it " utter 
rot" But Maisie was different. 

*' Let us show it to the others," exclaimed Rose ; and seiz- 
ing the photograph she ran down-stairs, followed by Cecily and, 
somewhat reluctantly, by Maisie Moore. 

Mrs. Beauclere and Claude were playing billiards, and the 
former raised her eyebrows superciliously at the girls' noisy 
entrance. 

" Look," said Rose breathlessly ; '' Maisie has photographed 
the ghost!" 

Claude Loftus threw down his cue and took the photograph 
in his hand. 

" By Jove ! " he remarked, " what an extraordinary thing. 
What do you make of it. Miss Moore ? " 

" Oh ! we know Miss Moore's theory," interposed Mrs. Beau- 
clere quickly, as the photograph was passed for her inspection. 
^* The monk is * undergoing his Purgatory ' in front of the bed, 
and has most obligingly stood for his portrait on this occasion." 

Maisie flushed crimson, but made no reply ; and Claude 
rushed gallantly to the rescue. 

'' And why not ? " he said coldly, his handsome face darken- 
ing with anger. '^ Why should not Miss Moore's theories, as 
you call them, be as correct as ours ? There are a jolly sight 

▼OL. LXXVI. — 13 



192 THE Photograph of a Ghost. [Nov., 

more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our shal- 
low philosophy." 

" Really, you are quite eloquent/' murmured Mrs. Beauclerc, 
with a somewhat forced smile. Her failure in attracting Claude 
Loftus was that which lay at the root of her dislike to him, 
and consequently to the American girl, whom she knew he ad- 
mired. 

"There are so many curious effects in photography nowa- 
days," she continued, turning to Maisie. '' But after our con- 
versation yesterday this shadowy figure — it is rather shadowy, 
by the way — is quite a coincidence, is it not ? " 

*' It appears so to you, probably," returned Maisie calmly. 
She had quite recovered her usual self-possession. " But, as I 
said before, I see no reason why it should not be a soul in 
Purgatory seeking prayers." 

And having given evidence of the faith that was in her she 
took up the photograph and left the room. And Claude fol- 
lowed her. 

" I believe it, Miss Moore," he said earnestly. " Never mind 
that woman. She has not an ounce of faith or religion in her 
whole composition, — or morality either, judging by her plays," 
he added in a lower tone. 

Maisie glanced up at him with a smile in her eyes, though 
her lips remained grave. " I am so sorry for her," she said sim- 
ply. *' But you — you do not believe in my poor soul either, 
really? You are only saying so because you think I was hurt 
by Mrs. Beauclerc's incredulity." 

" I swear I do," he said eagerly. *' All the more because 
she scoffed at it. I am not a religious chap myself, but — oh, 
well, anything you believe in is good enough for me ! " 

" Some day you will have a better motive," said Maisie. 
But as she said it she smiled at him again. 

Six months later Claude Loftus came into his wife's sitting- 
room with an open letter in his hand. 

*' Read this, Maisie," he said. *' It is a copy of an old 
document sent me by Lushington's grandson, which he says 
may throw some light on the photograph business. You see 
this is evidently an agreement on the part of a Father Cuthbert, 
O.S.B., to say a certain number of Masses before a given date, 
and—" 



I902.] Resignation. 193 

'' And he either omitted to say them or died before he could 
complete the number/' exclaimed Maisie excitedly, her eyes 
dilated in what her sisters-in-law described as the '' ghost-seer 
look. That is it, you may depend, Claude, and we must have 
the Masses said, must we not ? " 

" By all means. I owe him something in any case, as he 
was indirectly the means of my becoming a Catholic. Your in- 
fluence completed it, but he began it, at any rate — eh, Maisie ? " 

She looked at him tenderly, intense gratitude in her expres- 
sive face. "Yes, thank God!" she murmured softly. And 
then the corners of her mouth relaxed in a mischievous smile. 
" This is what Mrs. Beauclerc would call a ' coincidence,' Claude ; 
but you and I know better. Poor woman ! how I pity her." 




FJESIGNAIPION. 

BY GEORGE H. TURNER. 

HE turned to the cross and bowed her head 
Like a flower swayed in the morning sun; 
The anthem ceased, and the prayer was o'er, 
The light in the chancel grew cold and dun. 

But the world never knew that a woman's heart 

Was breaking then — not by word or look — 

That she 'd turned the page where her life stopped short 

And calmly and coldly sealed the book. 

There 's a flower still where the page was turned, 
And the dead rose tells of a day in June 
When a woman kneeled at the foot of the cross 
And crushed the rose with its rich perfume. 

There 's many a page in a woman's life 

That is never read in the public mart. 

There 's a dead rose crushed between the leaves 

Which ought to have bloomed in the life and heart 



WHKN THK CLOCK STOri'tP IS SCREMBERG. 



i> >Uii;^ltt(:T anil I «crf school fricDds. The 
V'.tcr of iiunviiiotion h,»il been iTcei\-ed m ad- 
\,i:u"r by hia:'. 

"' Vhf AtHciic-n wlio c;-;cr*i Nuremberg should 

iTi»o\r V.is M«.!,-,"s.," Vc s,(kl ix:;h urtone saluta- 

l;.>n \ \\.\\ ^o•,^^c\\^.i^ s;!iv.>r.'. a; s^* ■.::-,;:*;:*'. « tribute ex- 

*,!.-.» ^x ii A,-!-**-^' •'' "■^- ■••" ■^■■''- ^•""'s A:Stfr; rarer, and 



1902.] When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. 195 

Mein Herr was of more than average height, straight as an 
arrow to the shoulders, and thin without attenuation. A brilliant 
spring morning found him in broad-soled low shoes, daintily 
buckled. His long silk stockings were gathered at the knees 
with antique clasps secured to corduroy trousers. A corduroy 
jacket, closely buttoned, disclosed at the collar a buff silk waist- 
coat, whose enamelled studs were suggestive of tastes reflected 
in the apartment. The walls, which were of a soft blue green, 
afforded a natural background for a few water colors, a small 
Dutch landscape in oils, and Rembrandt's etching *' A Man on 
the Ground," famous as a technical study for artist artificers. 
A wood-cut by Diirer, a ** Saint Jerome," stood on the inlaid 
table upon which were polished instruments of precision, a small 
porcelain crucible, gold weighing scales, a mahlstick, a chisel, a 
burin and an etching needle. Mein Herr was busy for a 
moment with an apple- faced matron who apparently had charge 
of his menage, 

A red cloth cap, which he placed upon his head preparatory 
to a prearranged walk with us, formed a peak with sharply de- 
clining sides like a tiled Gothic roof. His thick, projecting 
eyebrows with their downward pointed finals carried out the 
illusion of Gothic eaves. His abundant stone- gray hair, follow-i> 
ing the middle parting handed down from before the time when 
side parting became a man fashion, fell on either side of his 
face in close natural curl, giving his cheeks the appearance of 
foliated mullions on Gothic windows. A temperate use of the 
native wine had inserted a ruddy venous arabesque in hi^ 
cheeks, which were slightly hollowed by the experiences of three 
score years and more. A bright neckkerchief bound about his 
white throat gave the effect of a heliotrope frieze upon a Gothic 
facade, familiar in the architecture of Nuremberg, which delights 
in external mural decoration. His eyes, emerald, luminous, and 
trustworthy, continually emitted gleams of jocund sentiment, like 
the flower- boxes which enliven every balustrade, cornice, and 
oriel in Nuremberg. 

Mein Herr was an embodiment of his town. He might have 
stepped out of a sixteenth century picture frame, and not been 
a surprise among the goldsmiths of Nuremberg in that age. Still 
more accurately, he might have been a model for Zeit Voss 
when he was carving ascetic but militant saints out of solid 
blocks of wood and applying to them an archaic chromatic 



196 WHEN THE CLOCK STOPPED IN NUREMBERG, [Nov., 

finish. May not a forebear of Mein Herr have stood for an 
apostolic figure when Peter Visscher and Adam Krafft wrought 
their bronze wonder works for the churches of St. Lawrence 
and St. Sebald ? 

Mein Herr*s long nose and palpitating nostrils were Hellenic 
rather than Roman. But his demeanor possessed that elusive 
distinction which has ever been peculiar to the Roman ; a pro- 
clamation to all mankind, " I am a Roman citizen " — civis 
Romanus sum. The recesses of reserve in Mein Herr's eyes 
were immeasurable. Somewhere in his pedigree there must be 
a strain of oriental blood; or is it still only Nuremberg? Was 
not the intimacy between Nuremberg and Italy so tender that 
the Teutonic stronghold was designated the ** Florence of 
Germany" on account of its social splendor, its world-wide 
commercial connections, and its aristocracy of arts, crafts, and 
letters? Was not Nuremberg the half-way house of intercourse 
between Venice and the Orient ? 

The perfect bow of Mein Herr's lips was marred at one 
side by a sword- touch scar, a relic, doubtless, of his university 
days, for I had caught a glimpse of his bookcase under its 
mediaeval Flemish tapestry which a sudden gust from the 
chimney- place had thrown back. The vellum bindings and 
hand-inked back titles confessed they were mostly Elzevirs, 
with here and there an Aldus, and then an Alopecius, chiefly 
Latin and Greek classics; and Vitruvius. 

It is a phenomenon of natural history that life takes on the 
forms and hues of its environment. Birds modify their plumage 
from sombre to gorgeous when transferred from northern forests 
to southern glades. Mineral clays are reflected from the moun- 
tains not only in swift argosies of clouds but in every animal 
or vegetable that makes a home in the crevices of inorganic 
nature. Military science, borrowing the hint, has recently re- 
commended that for the gaudy habiliments vanity admires on 
dress parade the neutral tones of brushwood shall be substituted 
to make the wearers of uniforms less conspicuous targets for an 
enemy's sharp-shooters. Here was environment transferred from 
town to citizen. Mein Herr was a transfiguration of a tall, 
angular, and embellished building typical of Nuremberg, blend- 
ing utility with grace, strength with repose, unity of line with 
variety and harmony of color. Were we to find him also a 
personification of the Nuremberg ideal ? 



I902.] W/f£N THE CLOCK STOPPED IN NUREMBERG. 197 

He was to unfold that ideal to us with a pride, a glory, and 
a grief of which I had no previous comprehension. 

As we arose Mein Herr tarried to place fresh flowers in the 

Dresden vase before a charming miniature on a cloisonn^ 

bracket. From a 

aint photograph 

my school -friend's 

am I recognized 

; face of her mo- 

;r, lost in child* 

hood. 

Mein Herr 
led the way to 
a little balcony 
which com- 
manded a wide 
view. On the 
one side of the 
river rose the 
towers of St. 
Lawrence. On 
the . other we 
dimly discern- 
ed the hoary 
mass of St. Se- 
bald. 

The apple- 
faced matron 
fetched his let- 
lopened on the ma- 



r St, Sbbald. 



ters to Mein Herr, who replaced them 
jolica tray. 

The vista was composed of a sky of almost Italian blue per- 
forated with domes and minarets, steep roofs, Gothic spires, 
byzantine pomegranates, ivied crotchets, flying buttresses, 
obelisks, monumental pillars and statues, and the grim caricature 
of grotesque gargoyles, jocular sculpture of mediaeval monastic 
recreation. Further off the line was lost in grove silhouettes of 
yellow ochre and spring green on the summits of the Franconian 
Mountains. The subdued swish of the Pegnitz was felt in the 
air rather than heard. What once was the deep moat of castel- 
lated fortifications seemed a narrow ribbon of many colors. 



1 88 THE PHOTOGRAPH OF A GHOST. [Nov., 

suffering. That I expect is why none of you have ever seen him/' 
she continued, turning to Claude, who was leaning on the back 
of her chair, a tenderly reverential expression in his usually 
laughing eyes. 

" How nicely you say it all ! " exclaimed Mrs. Beauclerc, 
with just a touch of insolence in her languid tones. ** I sup- 
pose they put you up to all that sort of thing in your convent 
school ? It is quite a pretty theory, and it does very well for 
the dear little nuns — ^just fits in with the whole environment — 
but it is a little out of date in the present century, and I 
imagined you Americans always prided yourselves on leading 
the van. We pay for our pleasures in this world sooner or 
later, at pretty high rates to some of us" — with a little shrug 
of her shoulders — ** and when we die, well — there is an end of 
us altogether; 'the rest is silence.' That is the modern creed.'* 

" Is that so ? " inquired Maisie. " Well it seems to me that 
it is not what one would call a satisfying one, and I prefer the 
ancient and authenticated version. I believe in the resurrection 
cf the body and the life everlasting." 

** Bravo ! " murmured Claude in an undertone. His own 
ideas concerning eternal truths were of the vaguest description, 
but he was, as he would have described it in his vocabulary, 
thoroughly *' fetched *' by his sister's friend, and when a man 
is in that condition of mind he is unusually open to conviction, 
and — which was also a factor in the case — there was very little 
love lost between himself and the successful playwright. 

*'We must agree to differ, then," said Mrs. Beauclerc, an 
expression of somewhat contemptuous amusement on her face. 
" The idea of that chit having an opinion of her own," she was 
saying to herself mentally. " Actually the dressing bell ! How 
quickly time goes when one is interested ! " And with a 
slightly malicious smile on her lips she rose and left the room. 

"Routed, by Jove!" exclaimed Claude, gleefully; '* horse, 
foot, and artillery. It was your text of Scripture that did the 
business, Miss Moore. It was Scripture, was it not ? I always 
mix the Bible up with Shakspere somehow." Then, as if 
struck by a sudden remembrance : " I thought, by the way, 
that you Papists never read the Bible ? How is it you are so 
well up in the life everlasting and all the rest of it ? " 

'*You know very little about us," said Maisie sagely; "and 
until you have learned a little more you had better refrain 



I902.J The Photograph of a Ghost. 189 

from discussing what you do not understand. You don't hear 
me laying down the law about wire fencing, or the best way 
of bringing up fox hound puppies." And with an irrepressible 
laugh at the sight of his bewildered countenance she left him 
to his own reflections. 

II. 

" Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the 
Lord bath touched me." — Job. 

When Maisie said her prayers that night she included in 
them a petition for Mrs. Beauclerc. A woman without faith : 
it seemed to her convent-bred ideas such an anomaly of nature, 
and then she found herself wishing that the monk would appear 
to her^ if only to prove that the suffering souls in Purgatory 
were really allowed to revisit the earth, and that there was in 
all reality a world beyond the grave. 

The next morning was bright and sunny, and after break- 
fast Rose and Cecily led the way to the haunted room. Claude 
had gone out shooting, and Mrs. Beauclerc was hard at work 
on a new play, which she intended should take the London 
world by storm in the coming season ; so the three girls were 
left to their own devices. 

"There!" exclaimed Cecily, in a tone of triumph, as she 
opened the door ; '* now you are inside the ghost's domain ; 
don't you feel creepy ? " 

For an instant Maisie made no reply. As she had said to 
Mrs. Beauclerc, the spirit world was very near to her, and now, 
as she stood gazing round her at the quaint, old-fashioned room, 
it seemed as though at any moment there might be a rent in 
the thin dividing veil. 

** What has come to you ? " asked Rose with a laugh. 
"You look as if you saw him already. You have just the eyes 
of a ghost-seer, Maisie ! " 

Maisie roused herself from her reverie, and her gravity re- 
laxed into a smile. " What sort of eyes do they have ? Here, 
give me my camera. I shall take it from here so as to bring 
in the bed." 

"Oh, but why? It is not very ornamental." 

" Never mind ; I want it," replied Maisie decisively. 

"That was where the altar used to stand in the old days," 



200 When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. [Nov., 

tific attainments of so many of its people and the multifarious 
productions of its looms and forges. It had a monopoly of 
compass-making. The guild which controlled that industry was 
one of the most erudite of the middle ages.** 

** Martin Behaim," Mein Herr resumed, " was intended for 
commercial life and, in common with such candidates, he mas- 
tered all the languages then known, and alternated scientific 
investigation with navigation and counting-room routine. Al- 
though Columbus had read the Itnago Mundi of Cardinal d'Ailly 
and the travels of Marco Polo, as well as everything else 
obtainable concerning the geography of the world and naviga- 
tion, he dare not attempt an ocean voyage in quest of the 
passage which cosmographers believed to exist in the far west 
constituting a speedier route to the Indies. This passage is 
indicated on Martin Behaim's globe. He dare not, because 
while the compass gave him the direction in which he should 
steer and the hour-glass furnished approximate^ of distance, he 
remained in ignorance of his latitude. Martin Behaim experi- 
mented with the astrolabe of the time of Ptolemy until he pro- 
duced the instrument by which Columbus was enabled to make 
his voyage of discovery. Behaim substituted brass for the 
coarse and perishable wood of the astrolabe, and instead of 
placing the instrument on a tripod, thus to be subjected to the 
ship*s motion, he attached it to the mast and by a simple de- 
vice made it maintain a vertical position. Behaim had experi- 
mented with nautical and astronomical instruments of this 
character in the workshop of Konigsberg, but until he improved 
his master*s model it was unavailable for maritime adventure. 
Columbus was not the only navigator to adopt Behaim's 'star 
seizer.' It was also adopted by Vasco Da Gama, Cabot, and 
Magellan." 

We watched a swallow quarrel in a broad gargoyle spout. 

** Very like humanity," said Mein Herr as the frenzy waxed. 
He smiled, showing perfect teeth tinctured with nicotine, as 
weather stains blur the white doorways of Nuremberg. 

One swallow was suffocated in the spout. 

** Pressure of population on subsistence," said Mein Herr 
with pity. ** Everywhere the struggle for existence." 

The twittering flock fled at sight of the catastrophe. They 
were relieved by elimination of an inefficient or redundant 
member. The dead swallow had broken a leg the previous day. 



I902.] When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg, 201 

Mein Herr had spliced it, as I now discovered, by his affec- 
tionate examination of the corpse and by replacement of a little 
surgical case in his pocket. 

" I love St. Francis for the birds and the birds for St. 
Francis," said Mein Herr. " But they cannot learn the Gospel 
which John Ruskin so finely expounds and which so large a 
share of humanity violates." 

What dictum of the caustic art critic was Mein Herr to 
quote ? 

" Straggle for existence and destruction of the weak is the 
law in the lower world. Ruskin says that the law in the moral 
order ought to be not struggle for existence but co operation 
•for existence, not destruction of the weak that more room may 
be had for the strong, but help by the strong for the weak 
that all shall have a fair chance. That is the Christian Gospel 
interpreted while in Italy by one who learned political economy 
in art." 

'' And sometimes we think in America that he learned art 
in political economy," I said. 

" Not so in Nuremberg," said Mein Herr. 

We returned to the globe. Mein Herr first found a trowel 
with which he dug a grave for the dead swallow under a rose- 
bush. 

" Martin Behaim, as every American knows," said Mein 
Herr, " and Columbus lived during the same years at Lisbon, 
where they became friends. After Columbus examined Behaim's 
astrolabe, he made his first proposal of Atlantic voyage to the 
Portuguese government. It was rejected because there was no 
man in the nautical commission of the king sufficiently educated 
to know that the project in the mind of Columbus was feasible. 
Behaim, although on terms of intimacy with the council, was 
not permitted to participate in the conference because his globe, 
then almost completed, indicated that Columbus was not a mere 
visionary. Behaim was excluded from the conference as one 
committed to the enterprise, and therefore not an impartial 
judge. Behaim's astrolabe filled Columbus, despite the rejec- 
tion of his offer to the Portuguese government, with inflexible 
determination to find another patron. Columbus and Behaim 
kept up a correspondence 'after the former left Portugal. In his 
application to the Spanish court for patronage Columbus refers 
to Behaim as his friend. He might truly have called him his 



202 When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. [Nov.^ 

first benefactor, for, without Behaim*s astrolabe, no court patron- 
age could have enabled Columbus to discover America. So* 
you see I am quite right in saying that the American who en- 
ters Nuremberg should remove his sandals/' 

We had not observed until now that a chain descended from 
the left shoulder of Mein Herr to his right side. It was of 
gold cable, accentuated with rare stones not too large for the 
modesty of a gentleman. Garnets, uncut diamonds, pearls, brown 
sapphires, amethysts, and turquoises lighted the way to the end 
of* the chain, which terminated in an ebon pipe-stem at least 
two feet long, joined to an ivory bowl exquisitely carved in tiny 
dragon shapes whose junctures glowed with jewels. Out of his 
jacket pocket he produced another 'pipe, whose amber stem wa& 
on microscopic secret hinges which unfolded into a solid tube. 
Its jade bowl prepared with a choice sample of the weed, he 
offered this rarity to one of us and began pulling at his own 
until he discovered that none of our little party wished ta 
smoke. 

" I have heard that you young Americans are strenuous to 
the limit of enervation," said Mein Herr compassionately. 

As we resumed our walk, ** we shall go,*' said Mein Herr, 
" to call upon some of my dearest friends. Nuremberg was once 
the capital also of the northern world of sculpture, architecture^ 
painting, and music. In my youth I was apprenticed to a gold- 
smith, not with a view to following the craft but as a basis of 
appreciation of all the arts. The goldsmith was then foremost 
of the artist artificers. Indeed, goldsmithing was the primary 
school of many who are ranked among the world's greatest ar- 
tists. I need but remind you of Diirer, Brunelleschi, Ghiberti,. 
and Donatello. The goldsmith was necessarily a modeller, using 
wax, clay, wood, and other suitable substances for his essays in 
the plastic. He had to become familiar with the mahl- stick,, 
the burin, the chisel, as well as with the crucible, the etching 
needle, delicate scales, and subtle mordants. He had to know 
in theory and practice the properties and adaptabilities of mar- 
bles and shells, and to be able to discriminate between the 
atones We call decorative and those the world deems precious, 
trim^ youth I breathed the full breath of the true Nurembergen 
It was the ozone of art. It was that indivisible union of the 
spiritual with the aesthetic which alone has inspired and 
effectuated the immortal in beauty made by the hand of man. 



I$02.] WHEN THE CLOCK STOPPED IN 'NiKEMBERG. ioj 



I come every day to the churches as I used to do before I 
went to my apprenticeship. In those days to labor was to 
pray — ' Labomre est orare' The ituly of form is the essential 
of the fine arts," he added. 

We had entered the church of St. Lawrence. Mein Herr, 
after we had made our duty in silence to the invisible Divine 



204 When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. [Nov., 

Master of the house and to its radiant Lady over the portal, 
and then to the demure custodian, reminded me that, as the 
Sacrament was not in the church, we could converse as if in a 
museum. 

" For direct, virile sculpture in stone you will find neither 
in Nuremberg nor elsewhere the challenge my old friend Adam 
Krafft gives here to nature," said Mein Herr, his face alight 
with enthusiasm. '' A supreme difficulty of art is to make in- 
organic substance successfully counterfeit vegetable freedom. 
Metal, however, may be chased and burnished, bent and un- 
bent, expanded, contracted. By succession of cameo and intag- 
lio, by an almost infinite shading of degrees of relief and reces- 
sion possible to the dextrous tool and hopefully ventured, even 
in the blaze, light and shade, and a certain margin of elasticity, 
are within the power of the sculptor in bronze. But stone is 
rigid. The chisel may not take a crumb too little or too much. 
If the grain be wavering or the texture friable, danger threatens 
at every stroke. You can repair a defect or supply an omission 
in bronze. Once hewn, the stone will not consent to reinstate- 
ment of any particle of its substance on the portions of its sur- 
face visible to the trained eye. Behold what faith and art en- 
abled Adam Krafft to achieve. Are not these clusters of lilies 
out of the Garden of Paradise ? " 

The apex rises to a height of sixty- four feet. Its countless 
curves have the spontaneity of nature, and there is not an in- 
stant of indecision from foundation to crown. It is known as 
the '' House of the Sacrament." On the sides, in breathing 
anguish, are the scenes of the Passion of Christ. The thrilling 
force of expression under accusation and scourge, the terror of 
the death and the miracles of resurrection and ascension, are 
unsurpassed in any canvas where the most dramatic of all the 
arts, painting, commands its complete resources. 

'' While the sculptor and his assistants wrought the details," 
said Mein Herr, '' as painstakingly as goldsmiths labor on gems, 
he kept in mind a pyramidal outline of singular solemnity and 
strength. The procession of sacred personalities halted for an 
instant before the pyx gives the composition the vibration and 
undulation of floral serenity. With what humbleness Krafft 
shaped a base for the work on these three kneeling figures, 
portraits of himself and his assistants, who devoted seven years 
to this perennial witness of German genius to Christianity 1 The 



I902.] When the Clock i>TOPPED in Nuremberg. 205 



Tn« HOVSB OF THB SKCtLKMKtlti—Aillm Kragt, 



< -s. 



206 When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. [Nov., 

pinnacle of the ornamentation reveals, you will discover on a 
second view, the curled curve of a bishop's crosier." 

We approached the pendent groups in wood by Zeit Voss. 
Mein Herr asked : " Why is it that we no longer have 
sculpture in wood ? We have wood and as good wood as Zeit 
Voss carved into these glorious creatures, but we no longer 
have sculptors in wood. This statue of the Madonna had been 
taken bodily out bf a block from a single tree. It did not re- 
quire unusual girth, but only inerrancy of grain and a hand 
which knew the secrets of the fibre. Thus the Greek sculptors 
wrought not only in the wood but in the quarries. A sculptor 
then did not make his model in one medium and hand it over, 
a derelict, to be cold bloodedly rescued by a hireliilg in an- 
&ther medium. Zeit Voss could not have produced these living 
beings in ligneous texture had he not with his own hand ex- 
tricated from the block the ideal that he had himself conceived. 

. When the image was completed in the round, he retulrn^d to 
the authentic school of Greek and Roman sculpture and finished 
his creations in polychrome." 

f We were aware that during many centuries the coloring of 
Sculpture had been condemned because authenticated exiamples 
^f antique polychrome were not found. In more recent times 

, archaeology has succeeded in collecting a convincing nutnber of 
undisputed fragments and the masters of Nuremberg are vin- 
dicated. 

• MeTn Herr drew us to the pedestal of the Angel of the 
Annunciation, whose pinions indicate that he is thinking of 

• flight. 

' ** Observe," said Mein Herr, " the unity of this design. The 

; inherent vitality of the angel, the fidelity to anatomy, the 
^decorative delicacy ; but observe, also, the integrity of the 

. block. It is a sincere work. In old Rome when a tricky 

! dealer wished to make a valuable table look sound, he had the 
cabinet maker fill the cracks with hot wax which had been 
subjected to great pressure. Then with pigment and varnish he 
touched the filler to correspond unsuspectedly to the texture 
and fibre of the wood. Forgery of this nature was not uncom- 
mon. Spurious furniture was surreptitiously sold on the Seven 
Hills almost as easily as in New York, Boston, or Chicago 
now. When a piece of Roman furniture was intact, it was, of 
course, without wax— yj;/^ tera — which in yoiir English Ian- 



I902.] When the Clock Stopped in Nurembehc. 207 

• 

guage you call ' sincere,' do you not ? Sculpture by Zeit 
Voss in wood is all sincere, my Americans. It is without wax 
not only in the wood but in the spirit." 

A sudden effulgence of myriad hues from a great stained 
glass window emerged from dun clouds caused us to turn our 
attention for a moment from Zeit Voss. 

" Wax in the spirit of art," resumed Mein Herr, '* is more 
deadly than in its body. Wax in wood may be melted or 
picked out, but wax in the spirit of art is a damnable offence, 
because no earthly power is competent for its extirpation." 

Another burst of prismatic shafts from. the rose window. 

" I hear that in America you make saints by machinery. I 
fear they are full of wax," said Mein Herr blithely. 

"We have many saints in America," I demurred; "brave 
men and* heroic women. Their spirit is • not yet reflected fully 
in the native religious art." 

" Is your native religious art veiy bad ? " inquired Mein 
Herr with deprecating inflection. , 

To deceive Mein Herr would be a deadly sin. 

" We import the worst," I confessed. 

" Rumor has it," said Mein Herr, " that for sculpture in 
America you screw a score of knives in a socket and with tre- 
mendous machinery loose them upon thin slices of wood, after- 
ward gluing or nailing the cuttings upon household articles. 
That is not sculpture. . It is the martyrdom of art. Were not 
some of our missionaries to the aborigines thus elevated into 
the calendar of saints?" 

I could not impugn the accuracy of Mein Herr's history. 

" I have been told that no artisan in America makes the 
whole of anything. Multitudinous machines dislocate a design 
»and each divisible section is assigned to a particular machine. 
yThis, I am assured, is true of shoes, stoves, coats, gowns, and 
saints. One man runs the machine knives to make saints' feet, 
another arms, another heads, another ears and eyes and noses, 
and then a machine like a dredge collects the disjecta membra 
and fastens them together. This appears to be a reversal of 
the natural method. It is not sculpture. It is hewing, hack- 
ing, and sticking. Thus saints are made in life, but in art the 
method is ill adapted for unity of design, scientific coherency, 
symmetry of proportion, or individuality. The process must be 
unfavorable to lifelike expression." 

VOL. LXXVI. — 14 



3o8 When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. [Nov., 



There was an irrepressible ray of raillery in Mein Herr's 
emerald eyes. 

" Is it true that for coloration on these statues you make a 
solution of dyes in a bucket and apply the liquid with a steam 
hose through a stencilled pattern, to effect not merely embroi- 
deries on drapery but accents of contemplation and intimation* 
of immortality ? " 



I902.] When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. 209 

We had heard of something like this in mural embellish- 
ment, exterior and interior, during the World's Columbian 
Exhibition at Chicago, but prefer to doubt its prevalence in 
hieratic art factories. 

"We hew and hack our saints, Mein Herr, as has always 
been the world's way. We are slowly elevating the standard 
of art in our churches." 

" I read in the annals of the Comacine guild," said Mein 
Herr soothingly, ** that even a proud apprentice who could not 
begin and complete his design in the block of wood or stone 
was dismissed from the guild as one who had missed his voca- 
tion, which in modern times is frequently, however, confounded 
with avocation." 

It was a pleasure to recall to Mein Herr our Longfellow's 
translation of Michael Angelo's lines : 

" Nothing the greatest artist can conceive 
That every marble block doth not confine 
Within itself; and only its design 
The hand that follows intellect can achieve." 

Longfellow is the only American poet well known in Ger- 
many. He is especially loved in Nuremberg. 

We passed the home of Hans Sachs on our way to St. 
Sebald's. There are no longer mastersinger laurels on its 
lintels. 

"The mastersingers quitted Nuremberg when the clock 
stopped," said Mein Herr in pensive abstraction, divining my 
disappointment on finding the once renowned home of song 
and shoemaking so neglected as scarcely to attract attention 
among even ale drinkers, to whom it has been long given 
over. 

The shrine of St. Sebald in the church inscribed with his 
name is the most wonderfi\) example of fine art in bronze in 
any part of the world. Peter Visscher (born in 1489, died in 
1529) and his five sons consecrated thirteen years to this monu- 
ment. Three rich baldachins canopy the shrine, which rises on 
eight slender pillars. The surfaces of the sarcophagus are 
adorned with reliefs representing incidents in the life of the 
saint. Commingling in a lyric strain the aspiration of the 
Gothic with the airiness of the Renaissance, in magnificent mass 



2IO When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg, [Nov. 

and lovely detail this masterpiece of the ages of faith, survives 
the banishment of the Sacrament from St. Sebald*s. The shrine 
rests upon twelve gigantic snails, which carry it on their backs. 
The base is a weird world composed from mythology and Scrip- 
ture, with allegorical concepts of the cardinal virtues for a har- 
monizing element. The cornice and triangular compartments 
are peopled with elfish creatures born of the master's fancy. 
The figures of the Apostles in the niches are modelled with 
astonishing liberty and vividness. The figure of St Sebald rises 
impressively on one side, and is balanced on the other with an 
effigy of Peter Visscher in cap and leathern apron. 

** What a democrat is art," said Mein Herr dreamily. " Only 
a freeman would have presumed thus to perpetuate his own 
memory co-ordinately with that of the Saint." 

I read the inscription : " For the praise of God Almighty 
alone and for the honor of St. Sebaldus, Prince of Heaven." 

" Peter Visscher would not thtis have disposed of his life for 
any prince of earth/' meditated Mein Herr aloud. 

The columns do not terminate in capitals but in statues of 
the twelve prophets. Prodigious invention, recondite ornamen- 
tation, elevated taste, and profound piety are equally manifest 
in a composition whose intricate but resplendent beauty* en- 
chants the beholder. At the four corners are light-bearers in 
the guise of mermaids. Nothing is lacking to a synthesis of 
antiquity and revelation, heathendom and Christianity. The 
atmosphere of the shrine architecturally and in decoratioli is 
joyous and triumphant. From socle to summit the tomb of St. 
Sebaldus fills the mind with rapture. 

"This is the only work of art," said Mein Herr, "to which 
we may apply justly the rarely associated terms of exaltation 
and elegance. It is at once awe-inspiring and exquisite. Like 
the Divine Comedy of Dante it demonstrates that in art as in 
literature there is no mutual repugnance between the fantastic 
and the sublime." • 

Not less overpowering is the charm of innumerable other 
examples of the sculpture of Nuremberg in St. Sebald's; but 
here, as in the church of St. Lawrence, there is a religious 
chill which even these works do not dispel. In neither fane 
did we see any one at prayer. There was no preaching, nor 
was there vocal or instrumental music. People, mostly strangers^ 
promenaded the aisles in curiosity or lingered in compulsory 



Tm "LiTTLB GoosB Man."— Thb Fountain in the Market Place. 



212 When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. [Nov., 

worship, not, apparently, of any deity other than that pan- 
theistic god of fine art whose presence is in shrines and sanc- 
tuaries once reserved for a holier rite. 

" It is not death," whispered Mein Herr. " It is only sus- 
pended animation." 

He added, in a lower voice, " It began when the clock of 
Nuremberg stopped." 

Reaching the street, Mein Herr comforted himself with a 
pull at his pipe. 

A motley crowd gossiped in stolid levity around the many 
fountains whose ancient caprices still lend dignity to the pav- 
ing stones, and whose usefulness the burghers practically as 
well as artistically value. The throng was thickest before the 
fountain of the ** Ganse Mannchen," a peasant carryirg a goose 
under each arm. A frugal mob vociferated in gutturals, tum- 
bling over one another, about the price of. goslings, eggs, gib- 
lets, wings, necks, and were frantic around the specially fatted 
geese fit to be sent to the pate de foie gras factories at Stras- 
bourg. 

'' Eating is more and thinking less in Nuremberg since the 
clock stopped," ejaculated Mein Herr. 

"But Albert Diirer," I replied. '*To us in America he is 
Nuremberg more than Martin Behaim." 

We were passing the unworthy monument of the cos- 
mographer. 

"We shall find Diirer at home only in the graveyard," said 
Mei-n Herr bitterly. " All his representative works were lost to 
Nuremberg after the clock stopped." 

We entered many churches and several museums on the 
way to the oldest " God's Acre." Wherever the place or 
whenever the subject was religious the spiritual gloom was im- 
penetrable. What was lacking ? Nuremberg is full of art, of 
libraries, of homes, of public and domestic monuments. Its in- 
habitants are energetic and thrifty. There is not a speck of 
dust anywhere. The floors are swept, the walls are garnished. 
Yet everywhere Mein Herr was lonely, and I began to share 
his loneliness by infection. The town took on the feeling one 
cannot shake off in an empty house. 

" This is not a Catholic cemetery ? " I inquired. 

Over graves centuries old children were strewing flowers 
while companions sang hymns. 



I902.] When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg. 213 

" No," answered Mein Herr, " but the ancient tradition 
lingers that 'it is a holy and wholesome thought to pray for 
the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins.' Perhaps 
you do not include the book of the Machabees in your Bible. 
The descendants of Christian martyrs daily can be found here 
cherishing the dust of their progenitors." 

Shining brass plates designate many njounds. 

"You saw the candles and candlesticks upon the altar of 
St Lawrence, the mass-book stand, the white altar cloth, now 
only a shroud for the original ritual. Nuremberg cannot be 
persuaded to banish these proofs that originally the Mass was 
offered up on that altar. Everything is guarded by Protestant 
hands, just as the celebrant uttered the last benediction. His 
' Ite, missa est ' — ' Go, Mass is finished ' — was literal. The can- 
dles are regularly lighted on the altar, and replaced when 
burned. The clock of Nuremberg stopped when ' Ite, missa 
est ' was spoken for the last time." 

This had not been in my thoughts as the explanation of 
Mein Herr's enigmatic references to time in Nuremberg. 

*' In the Church of St. Sebald you could not have failed to 
observe that a lamp is kept burning before the shrine of the 
Madonna. The niche is vacant. Protestant hands perpetually 
feed the lamp. The clock stopped in Nuremberg when the 
Madonna was exiled with the last ' Ite, missa est.' At that 
moment the decline of Nuremberg, political, commercial, indus- 
trial, musical, artistic, set in. Nuremberg is now only the 
capital of the world of toys." 

The tablet at Diirer's grave reads *' Whatever of Albert 
Diirer was mortal is buried in this grave. He went away 
(emigravit) April 6th, 1528." The Latin lettering is archaic. 

*' Emigravit " held the thought of Mein Herr like a spell. 

" Emigravit," he said, '^ must be applied also to the spirit of 
Nuremberg. It went forth when the clock stopped. There is 
not in Nuremberg a single masterpiece of art which was not 
commenced before the clock stopped." 

Could this be true ? 

Nuremberg had a golden age. It disappeared. But dis- 
covery of the Cape of Good Hope opened a sea path to the 
Orient, and the revolution of trade was coincident with the ex- 
pulsion of the old faith to promote the political aims of rulers 
who had found the new more expedient. Nuremberg lost her 



a 1.4 WHEN THE CLOCK STOPPED IN NUREMBERG, [Nov., 



coitiRtercial and industrial importance between Italy and the 
East through no fault of her rulers. But her fine art } 

Was Mein Herr right? or had he contemplated one panel of 
the triple coincidence so deeply that he failed to give com- 
mensurate significance to the other two panels of the most 
mysterious triptych in history ? 

"You have another great art critic in your English literature, 
my Americans. It is Hamerton, I know one passage by 
heart: 'One of the consequences of Protestantism has been 
the transference of sacred art from churches to public galleries, 
a change of destination quite in harmony with our habit o£ 



I902.] When the Clock Stopped in Nuremberg, 215 

valuing religious paintings father for their technical qualities, 
such as cplor and composition, than for their fidelity to the 
religious ideal.' " 

" Is this/' asked Mein Herr, '' quite enough, to account for 
the removal of Raphael's Sistine Madonna from a monastic 
cloister to the public museum of a Protestant city, where it is 
the talisman that continues to draw all mankind to Dresden ? 
Is it the color and composition or the sublime and eternal idea 
of spotless motherhood embodied in transcendent beauty ? " 

The majestic self-respect with which Mein Herr affirmed 
that his Protestant fellow citizens preserve the emblems of the 
earlier faith in the Church of St. Lawrence, and feed the 
Madonna lamp before the empty niche in St. Sebald's, depicted 
an urbanity of soul which matched the urbanity of Mein Herr*s 
manners. 

''Does Hamerton's explanation," he asked, "account for 
Goethe's admiration of Raphael?" 

The more I reflected upon what Mein Herr had said the 
more convincing became his conclusion. All historians agree 
that for five hundred years Nuremberg was the abode of the 
German emperors. It was the cradle of German art, the nursery 
of German poetry, the centre of German commerce, and the 
hearth of German freedom. All merchandise from the East was 
obliged to travel overland into Europe before circumnavigation 
of the Cape of Good Hope. The highway for continental dis- 
tribution was through Germany, and chiefly through Nuremberg. 
With the decline of its commerce declined the prosperity of the 
burghers. The government degenerated, the senate became en- 
feebled, the patricians corrupt, the people demoralized. The 
congress of 1649 ^^ settle the peace of Westphalia exhibited 
the last dying embers of Nuremberg's pomp and splendor. An 
age of inactivity, an increasing debt and lessened means of pay- 
ment, led to its dissolution as well as that of the empire of 
which it had formed so important a part. It became more and 
more impoverished, and its flnal bankruptcy involved the whole 
in one common ruin. Thus, I remembered, was the story of 
Nuremberg summed up half a century ago by an English com- 
mentator, a drastic opponent of Mein Herr's faith. 

"It was in 1522," said Mein Herr sadly, as our walk ap- 
proached its end, " that Adrian VI., through the mouth of his 
representative at the diet of Nuremberg, urged the city to be 



2i6 The Resemblance. [Nov., 

faithful to the apostolic faith; for, he said, 'the revolt now aimed 
at the spiritual' authority will shortly deal a blow at the tem- 
poral also. In 1530 Nuremberg formally abandoned her faith. 
The clock stopped. The guilds departed one after another to 
more thrifty centres of production. The mastersingers followed 
the guilds. Art became paralyzed. Reason ceased to think. 
It will not do to charge the decay of Nuremberg exclusively to 
the circumnavigation of the Cape of Good Hope. Vasco da 
Gama had doubled the cape in 1497, with the aid of Martin 
Behaim*s astrolabe." 

Thus we parted. 

A dainty basket of fruit and flowers awaited our ad.-nission 
to the railway compartment which bore us from Nuremberg. 
Mein Herr's card wished us a pleasant journey. 




She I^bsbmblangb. 

BY GEORGE H. TURNER. 

OMETIMES it's only a footstep heard, 

Sometimes it's the pose of a shapely head, 
A love tune hummed or an idle word. 

That brings to me one that is lost — not dead. 

Sometimes 'tis the hush of the starry night, 
Sometimes 'tis the wind in its dreary moan. 

And a falling tear brings back to my sight 
The loved and lost — that was once my own. 

In the crowded street, in the busy mart 

The same sweet smile I often see, 
And eyes that pierce to the soul and heart 

Gleam out of the years long passed — at me ! 

I wonder, when all the years are past. 
And together we stand before the throne, 

l( Heaven will right all the wrongs at last 
And give me back what was once my own ? 



I902.] The Ethics of George Eliot, 217 




THE ETHICS OF GEORGE ELIOT. 

BY GEORGINA PELL CURTIS. 

F you mean to act nobly and seek to know the 
best things God has put within reach of men, 
you must learn to fix your mind on that end, 
because of it. And, remember, if you were to 
choose something lower, and make it the rule of 
your life to seek your own pleasure and escape from what is 
disagreeable, calamity might come just the same, and it would 
be calamity falling on a base mind, which is the one form 
of sorrow that has no balm in it, and that may well make a 
man say : ' It would have been better for me if I had never 
been born/" 

So says Romola to the little son of Tito Melema, summing 
up in a few words the secret of her own noble and self-deny- 
ing life. A student of nineteenth century literature cannot fail 
to be struck by the beauty of many of George Eliot's creations, 
and the author's wonderful powers of introspection, as well as 
her fine analysis of human nature. 

And yet this woman believed nothing. Her creed was that 
God was a wanderer in " Erehwon " (No Where), and that 
death meant annihilation. How, then, could she understand 
the spiritual side of life ? It is a question that often teases 
thoughtful Catholics ; but perhaps if we look more closely into 
the matter it can be answered. 

George Eliot in her life, and the author in her books, 
offers many strange contrasts. Let us take the woman first, 
and see how environment affected her. 

The youngest child of Robert Evans, a land agent, she was 
born at Arbury, near Nuneaton, in Warwickshire, in 1820. 
Distant only twenty miles from Shakspere's country, the little 
Mary Ann Evans was early made acquainted with all the won- 
ders of the great poet's creations. The forest of Arden was 
her play- ground, and she was free to roam where she would. 
Religious and moral ponderings seem to have made the basis 
of her life, all the more because her mind was never subjected 



2 1 8 T/f£ ETH/CS, Of GEORGE EUO T. [Nov., 

to the discipline and training of regular study. Much of her 
education was self-acquired, as she had only a short period at 
school, first at Nuneaton and later at Coventry. But during 
that time, short as it was, she probably learned how to study. 
Fine and beautiful minds frequently develop better from just 
such conditions. One thing, however^ was wanting in George 
Eliot's case, and that was the right religious instruction. Such 
she never had. Her first literary work was a translation of 
Strauss's Life of Jesus ; this was followed by two other trans- 
lations, Feuerbach's Essence of Christianity and Spinoza's 
Ethics » After this we are told that " her mind had taken its 
ply, and while her nature, eminently constant and conservative^ 
retained always a deep reverence and affection for whatever 
names itself by the name of Christ, she never sought again the 
old means of grace, nor felt the old hope of glory." 

The pity of it ! For George Eliot had the faults as well as 
the virtues of great minds, and one of them was that she was: 
a law unto herself. During a sojourn in London she joined a 
literary circle where Comte's philosophy was universally adopted 
by the members of the coterie, and, as is usually the case, the 
adoption of atheistic views was followed by a total disregard for 
moral laws, if they interfered with the will and desire. It i» 
difiiQult to understand how a woman whose books contain such 
fine moral teaching, who never failed to uphold the right when 
her pen gave something to the world, could at the same time 
disregard all moral standards in private. Some of her biogra- 
phers, who were her friends, try to gloss this over. One of- 
them says : " A long tragedy unrolled itself before her ; her. 
pity, affection, gratitude, were subject to a strong appeal ; a 
path was chosen over which, amidst much happiness, a certain 
shadow hung." This "shadow" was her union with Mr. Lewes, 
a man who had a lawful wife living from whom he was not 
even divorced. To say that " pity, affection, gratitude, were 
subject to a strong appeal," can only be false and weak senti- 
ment. 

George Eliot was not a girl, but a woman of thirty-four, 
when she entered on this path, and she continued in it for 
twenty- four years until Mr. Lewes' death. By what subtle pro- 
cess of reasoning she excused it, and brought herself to believe 
that it was not sin but right, and a real marriage according to 
natural law, we cannot tell. She knew the standard of right 



tgoi.] The Ethics of George Eliot. 219 

and wrong in such mattefs^mmiStable and unchangeable, how- 
ever man^ may try to cheat his heart and conscience. The 
temptation George Eliot was subject to was in nowise different 
in fact from that which assails the frailest Magdalen, but Tier 
powerful mind, strong will, and subtle intellect refused to face 
it. So easy it is \ihen we let go our hold on God to drift in 
any direction. 

In the struggle of Maggie TuUiver, in the Mill on the Floss ^ 
a good example is given of what the author herself probably 
went through before her choice was made. She conveniently 
closes the scene by drowning Maggie ; to have made hier take 
the wrong course would have spoiled the book, and this George 
Eliot knew; indeed, she knew everything where the highest and 
best is concerned, but, like Portia in the " Merchant of Venice,^' 
she found it easier to teach others than to be one of the twenty 
to follow her own teiaching, so easy it is to see the right and 
wrong when one's own heart is not involved. 

In the Mill on the Floss Maggie says,^ remonstrating with 
Stephen : - . 

"Faithfulness and constancy mean something else besides 
doing what is easiest and pleasantest to ourselves. They mean 
renouncing whatever is opposed to the reliance others have in 
us; whatever would cause misery to those whom the course of 
our lives has made dependent on us." 

And again, Maggie 6ays to Philip, when they are in the 
^Woods: 

" Often, when I have been angry and discontented, it has 
seemed to me that I was not bound io give up anything ; and 
i have gone on thinking till it has seemed to me I could think 
away all my duty. But no good has ever come of that ; it was 
an evil state of mind. . . . Our life is determined for tis, 
and it makes the mind very free when we give up wishing, 
and only think of bearing what is laid upon us, and doing 
what is given us to do.'* 

Is this a picture of the author's life ? as the book is said 
most nearly to reproduce her own early character and strug- 
gles. Did she, by some long chain of reasoning, persuade her- 
self she was necessary to Mr. Lewes, and that she could sacri- 
fice her honor to him ? Perhaps only God knows. Be that as 
it may, his divine power, which is never entirely lost in great 
souls, even though tliey deny him iii word, comes out in all 



220 The Ethics of George Eliot. [Nov., 

George Eliot's writings. There are times when the pen of an 
author will seem to write what it will, and surel]r only divine 
intuitions could have guided some of the beautiful passages, 
found now here, now there in her books. 

Dorothea says to Will Ladislaw, in MiddUmarch : 

'' . . . By desiiing what is perfectly good, even when 
we don't quite know what it is, and cannot do what we would^ 
we are part of the divine power against evil, widening the skirts 
of light, and making the struggle with darkness narrower." 

'' That is a beautiful mysticism ; it is a — " 

" Please not to call it by any name," said Dorothea, putting 
out her hands entreatingly. 

" You will say it is Persian, or something else geographical. 
It is my life. I have found it out and cannot part with it 
• . . I try not to have desires merely for myself, because 
they may not be good for others, and I have too much al- 
ready," 

Turning to Adam Bcde^ we find the tenderest love, the most 
•ublime Christian faith, in Dinah's conduct toward Hetty ; and 
be h remembered the latter at that time held the heart of the 
man the other woman loved. Dinah says to Hetty, when visiting 
her in prison : 

" Some one who has been with you through all your hours 
of tin and trouble — who has known every thought you have 
had — has seen where you went, where you laid down and rose 
up again, and all the deeds that you have tried to hide vk 
darkness. And on Monday, when I can't follow you — when 
my arms can't reach you — when death has parted us — He who 
is with us now, and knows all, will be with you then. It 
makes no difference whether we live or die, we are in the 
presence of God." 

And then she pleads for Hetty's confession : 

" Saviour, it is yet time — time to snatch this poor soul from 
everlasting darkness. I believe, I believe in Thy infinite love. 
What is my love or my pleading ? It is quenched in Thine. 
. . . Thou, Thou wilt breathe on the dead soul, and it shall 
arise from the unanswering sleep of death." 

However distasteful the thought of a woman preaching or 
conducting church ser\*ices is to the Catholic, no one can ques- 
tion the earnestness, the deep piety, and spiritual insight of 
Dinah. In one of her sermons at Hayslope she says: 



I902.] The Ethics of George Eliot 221 

" We are in sad want of good news about God ; and what 
does other good news signify if we haven't that? For every- 
thing else comes to an end, and when we die we leave it all. 
But God lasts when everything else is gone. What shall we do 
if He is not our friend?" "... Jesus spent His time 
almost all in doing good to poor people: He preached out of 
doors to them, and He made friends of poor workmen, and 
taught them and took pains with them "... 

" Ah ! would n't you love such a man if you saw Him — if 
He was here in this village ? What a kind heart He must 
have ! What a friend He would be to go to in trouble ! How 
pleasant it must be to be taught by Him ! . . . Who was 
this man ? Was He only a good man ? . . . He was the 
Son of God." 

" But let us see a little more what Jesus came on earth for. 
He said : ' I come not to call the righteous but sinners to re- 
pentance.' The lost! Sinners! . does that mean you 
and me ? " (Then she describes the Crucifixion.) " All this 
He bore for you I For you — and you never think of Him; for 
you, and you turn your backs on Him ; you don't care what 
He has gone through for you. Yet He is not weary of toiling 
for you ; He has risen from the dead, He is praying for you 
at the right hand of God. * Father, forgive them, for they 
know not what they do.' And He is upon this earth too; He 
is among us; He is there close to you now; I see His wounded 
body and His look of love." 

Again, in Daniel Deronda we meet with a high standard 
of right and wrong, that dominates the whole book. The dark 
sin of Grandcourt's early years embitters both his and Gwendo- 
lin's married life, and the author has traced in a masterly 
manner how Gwendolin also sinned against her conscience in 
marrying Grandcourt, knowing all the while he should have 
married some one else, and have righted a great wrong by so 
doing. 

Strange that one who denied the existence of God should 
have made Dinah plead for Him with so much power ; that one 
who set morality aside in her own life should have been a rigid 
moralist in all her writings. Unquestionably she has been the 
greatest female writer of her century ; and undoubtedly — in the 
mind of Catholics — her life would have been in harmony with 
her literary work had she been a member of the true Church; 



222 The ETHfCS Of George Eliot. [Nov. 

for it ii safe to say that no Catholic adopting the life ^e did 
would be able to delude themselves into thinking that it could 
.be excused on any grounds. 

Even George Eliot's non-Gatholic biographers seem to feel 
that something was lacking in her character and life, though 
they do not know just what it is. One of them — Mr. Frederick 
W. H. Myers, an intimate friend — says r 

" For, as her aspect had greatness but not beauty, so, tod, 
her spirit had moral dignity but not saintly holiness. A loftier 
potency may sometimes have been given to some highly favored 
woman in whom the graces of heaven and earth have met ; 
moving through all life's seasons with a majesty which can feel 
no decay; affording by her very presence and benediction an 
earnest of the supernal world. And so, too, on that thought- 
worn brow there was visible the authority of sorrow, but 
■carcely its consecration. A deeper pathos may sometimes have 
breathed from the unconscious heroism of some child-like soul. 
It is perhaps by dwelling on the last touches which this high 
nature was divinely felt to lack — some aroma of hope, some 
felicity of virtue — that we can best recognite the greatness of 
her actual achievement." 



50Y6B ^OSSBLYN, SlNNBI^, 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part III. 

A T THE TURN OF MA TURITY. 




CHAPTER I. 

JOYCE GOES UP LIKE A ROCKET. 

HE great steam- whistle shrilled forth its piercing 
high-notes; the ship quivered and throbbed with 
impatient engines; the official order "All 
Ashore ! " at first patiently, now imperatively 
reiterated, was emphasized by a significant stir 
and creak of the slanting gangway. As chains clanked, and 
ropes strained and rasped about the capstan, a rush from the 
deck halved the dense human crowd, dividing it between the 
Australian steamer Oceanic and its pier. 

The Comedy Girls who with their attendant swains dotted 
the deck in brilliant, vivacious groups, simultaneously smiled 
and wept in the stress of .final leave-takings more or less tender, 
according to circumstances. They had toured and re-toured 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Josselyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
{ann-liie, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathiser in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carruth. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Camithdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Casdeton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic West. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Raymond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk vrith Ray- 
mond, in which the latter gives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Joyce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drovmed. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the setdement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fall- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life, and 
then comes the great struggle with temptation. 

TOL. LXXVI. — 15 



224 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [Nov., 

the West from north to south, since their initial appearance in 
San Francisco, eighteen months earlier ; but that amusement- 
loving city had been their headquarters, and supported them to 
the phenomenal extent of two one- hundred-night seasons, during 
which all the girls had established relations friendly or senti- 
mental, which they severed with natural regret. Australia, 
which in remote anticipation had been the land of their desire, 
seemed distant and strange and desolate now, in the hour of 
setting sail for it; and their pretty, painted faces, like rain- 
drenched roses, were stained with honest tears. A 

" Rosebud garden of girls " 

they represented, in truth, since all both wore and carried 
masses of flawers ; while bonbonnieres gay with ribbons, daintily 
bound novels, and glittering vinaigrettes were likewise conspicu- 
ous in almost every hand. 

Apart from the troupe, with her face towards the sea, and 
gray eyes darkened by introspection. Pearl Ripley leaned against 
the railing. In its splendid lines and poise her figure looked 
statuesque, — remote, and subtly lonely in spite of Joyce's prox- 
imity. She had flung her flowers and other tributes upon an 
adjacent settee, as if indifferent to or already tired of them ; and 
even her modish gown distinguished her from her professional 
associates, collectively brilliant in blue or white yachting-suits, 
with tinsel anchors much in evidence. Obviously not the baser, 
but the higher initiations of Pearl's stage-life, had appealed to 
her. Bad form had retreated as good taste advanced. Her 
style had attained distinction by loss of vulgar emphasis. Her 
physical points, once obtruded, now gained by repression the 
charm of delicacy. Time, experience, and dramatic training, 
which even at its lowliest approximates culture, had strengthened 
and refined her face to a nobler style of beauty than its im- 
maturity had predicted ; but the buoyant, sparkling charm 
formerly characterizing her, seemed outgrown. In truth, it still 
survived ; but the fire of her vitality smouldered rather than 
flamed, in the spiritual and artistic stress of evolving woman- 
hood. Of late she had been moody, discontented, even resent- 
ful, it seemed to Joyce, of all in which at first she had exulted 
so exuberantly : and his masculine simplicity grappled im- 
potently with the problem of feminine inconsistency and caprice. 

** Well, good-by, Pearl," he said at last, with embarrassed re- 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 225 

luctance. " You know I am awfully sorry to have you go ! 
Even now, it is not too late to change your mind ! " 

" Oh, isn't it too late ? " she demanded, with a refreshing 
touch of her old vivacity. " Isn't it too late, with all my 
trunks in the hold, and my name billed already in Sidney and 
Melbourne, second only to Violet Earle's ? I 'm reckoning to 
get where you '11 have to look up to me, before the Golden 
Gate sees me again ! " 

" O Pearl, Pearl ! Well, of course you will write to me ? " 

"I don't think! The enchantment of absence works better 
in silence. Just keep watch for a star out of sight ! " 

" Look out not to overleap yourself, my footlight-comet. 
Vaulting ambition should be made of sterner stuff than — woman ! " 

" Don't you worry about my womanhood I " 

'' I cannot help worrying. Fame is only stage-sawdust for a 
girl made for love — " 

" No, no 1 " she protested. The suggestion jarred upon a 
quivering chord, a sensitive nerve subtly torturing her since the 
dawn of moral responsibility in her mysteriously quickened 
.soul. An overwhelming weariness of the sentimental problem, 
a revulsion from the fever pf youthful emotion, a proud distaste 
for the whole subject of love as irreverence vulgarized and dis- 
honored it, — for the passional element complicating human 
affinity, — for the lax practices of bohemia, and the hypocritical 
codes of the social world intermingling with, even while osten- 
sibly repudiating it, — had taken recent possession of her, setting 
idealities against realities, and spiritualizing her views of life. 

" Oh, I 'm glad I am going away," she cried. " On the 
sea, — in strange lands, — I cah begin all over. I 'm tired of just 
the world's love and laughter. I want something splendid of 
life ! " 

"Well, you've got me^ haven't you?" 

" You ! " 

Into words suddenly flashed the dream of the actress born, 
of the artist maturing; the dream which all her strenuous 
thought, of late, had struggled in vain to formulate. | 

" The real stage," she panted : " the legitimate drama : — that 
is what I want, Joyce Josselyn ! " 

" Whew-*w ! No wonder I 've been treated to grand high 
tragedy! It's a long jump from variety to the classics, Pearl. 
Why not drop the whole thing, and be jolly ? " 



226 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Nov., 

" Jolly ! I want to be great ! " 

'* Great — Scott ! Behold me at your feet, Miss Rachel-Sid- 
dons-Bernhardt-Duse-Terry — " 

" Say, young man, are you good for the nice little cruise to 
Australia ? " jested the Comedy manager, in passing. 

" All Ashore ! The skip's off! " an irate officer shouted 
in Joyce's ear. 

He started at the stentorian tones ; — clasped Pearl's hands in 
a lingering pressure, as he looked rather than spoke his hasty 
farewell ; then, dashing down the stairs and through the saloon, 
leaped to the pier across a swiftly widening gap of sea. 

The Oceanic had started upon its long, lone voyage. Not 
until reaching Honolulu would it touch the land again. 

" Hi, there, Joss ! That was a close shave,'* cheered Dick 
Dawson, wriggling his way to the front of the pier, as the 
crowd pressed back to give Joyce foothold. In spite of good 
grooming, Dick looked flabby and florid, his youth and health 
and handsome face visibly marred by his reckless career. '' Too 
bad to see the girls go," he confided, gaining Joyce's side. 
'' Came near giving the parson the chance of his life to kiss 
one of 'em, 'pon honor ; but the pater put in his little veto. 
Call this a free country, where a man can't choose his own 
wife ? No sirree ! Shoot the American eagle ! " 

He was loud and loquacious, from wine and emotion. Joyce 
winced at the laughter about him. 

''That's jag-talk, Dick," he protested. "Shut up, like a 
good fellow." 

" Right you are," retorted Dick, to the delight of the by- 
standers. "The talk's mine, and the jag's yours 1 Anything 
to please You, Us, and Company ! Say, can't we crawl through 
this crowd and punish a bottle ? I 'm parched with briny 
tears ! " 

The OceaniCy like a sea-bird, was skimming rapidly out of 
sight ; and already the deck showed the effect of departure. 
The few non-professional feminine passengers, who had been 
drawing their skirts aside from the Comedy Girls' dashing gar- 
ments, turned down the stairs towards their staterooms, with an 
air of shaking the dust of the deck from their feet. The men, 
whose social spirit is always nobly democratic when pretty 
actresses are concerned, complacently discarded their hats for 
caps, turned up their coat- collars for no atmospheric reason, 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 227 

and pocketing their hands with a landsman's farcical conception 
of jaunty nautical effect, settled to the promenade with the 
swaggering gait of old sea-dogs, their eyes wavering from the 
stern-deck, upon which the Comedy Girls- still huddled forlornly, 
towards precincts restricted to the thirsty sex, whence the sound 
of sundry pops already emanated. Uniformed officers bustled 
hither and thither, conspicuously inconspicuous, as yet, for the 
superlative social graces to be displayed in the saloon, later. 
Sailors, with brown, impassive faces and compact physiques 
tense for endurance, crouched or clambered, submissive as beasts, 
to brutal- toned commands. 

From the pier, now blurred in the increasing distance, hats 
lifted and handkerchiefs waved. Masculine eyes strained sea- 
ward, as white hands responded from the deck of the Oceanic. 
Then a volley of good wishes echoed over the waters. 

" Fare well! " " Au Revoir ! " " Bon Voyage!'' " Come 
back to the Golden Gate again!'' ** Goodbyy — good-by, — good- 
by!" 

" Oh, hang it, I can't stand this, you know," choked Dick. 
Discounting the sentimental stage of vinous exhilaration, his 
tendnsse for his footlight-favorites really tugged at his heart- 
strings. " Say, boys, if you '11 clear the way, it 's my treat all 
round ! Just chalk the slate to the pater ! " 

Laughing at the sally, characteristic of Dick's genial spirit, 
the crowd parted to let the well-known couple pass. The junior 
Dawson was notorious; Joyce, more enviably popular. But as 
he turned for a last look at the receding Oceanic Joyce's face 
had none of the exultation of the public favorite. Within the 
last half-year it had lost its ingenuous, joyous youthfulness. 
The shadow of the Tree of Knowledge lay maturely upon it. 
His smile was no longer childishly sunny, nor his expression as 
simply candid as a fearless boy's. The insidious consciousness, 
the subtle constraint, of some experience alien to his allotted 
life, now tempered them. His eyes were the eyes of a man of 
the world, inscrutable beneath the superficial transparency of 
their purpled shallows. But in ^ecious refutation of the psy- 
chological significance of his more reserved face, his carriage 
and manner had gained in assertiveness. The stamp of pros- 
perity is external self-confidence: and Joyce had prospered 
notably. His shares in the " Shasta," — Raymond's legacy, — 
were fortune's nucleus: his weekly supplement was attaining 



228 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Nov., 

the dignity of an eclectic review unrivalled in Western journal- 
ism ; while the .daily Pioneer already felt his sub- editorial influence. 

" Deuced hard on a fellow, — seeing pretty girls off," whim- 
pered Dick, mopping his flushed blond face with a scented 
handkerchief, as they turned into the thronged main thorough- 
fare. " I say, quit dragging me past this oasis in the desert ! 
I *m good for a bottle on ice 1 " 

" No, Dick, come along ! You want to be straight for our 
date at the ' Palace ' ! Don't be primed while Bull and Price 
are laying for you, with the Rocket Mine in their pockets." 

" Oh, the deuce ! I forgot that brace of old scoundrels. 
But it's, your funeral to-night, little brother, not mine. Pvti 
inh^ttis over head, already." 

"Well, 7*11 go in head over heels, or not at all. They're a 
pair from Queer Street, — your Bull and Price ! I can't quite 
bring myself to trust them." 

" Oh, don't funk at the last minute, Joss. Hang it, / stand 
for them ! Bull 's an old forty-niner, and Price is the expert 
who flrst pronounced on the ' Shasta ' ; and his word is as good 
for its neighbor ! They 're a bit seedy now ; but ups and downs 
are coast-luck, and we all take our trips to the bow-wows! 
You just take my straight tip: — put your pot in the Rocket, 
and we '11 follow our girls to Australia." 

Joyce felt tempted to knock down the boy beside him. 
The implied classification of Pearl with Dick's flippant affinities 
seemed an injustice to her, and an insult to him. Yet how 
could he resent a natural inference for which he, and none 
other, was responsible? For Joyce alone had existed in Pearl's 
professional and private life ! In an atmosphere of insatiable 
vanity, flaunting fickleness, and sateless rapacity, her disinter- 
ested single-heartedness had distinguished her honorably. Joyce's 
own honor, was yet to be demonstrated. 

Yet in industry and success, the young Easterner compared 
more than favorably with the gilded youths socially " naturaliz- 
ing " him. True, rumors obtained of his stock-plungres on the 
street ; of occasional social games where stakes were' ni»t modest; 
of a few midtiight-banquetsi whose ** wine, woitien/iand song" 
were scathed anonymously in' the; society- columns X)f the Pio- 
neers rivals. Yet if all the world loves a lover, is it not an 
equally evident though less noble truth, that the sower of wild 
oats is the popular idol ? So Joyce lost small favor through 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 229 

scandal's whispers of moral laxity. At worst, he was indul- 
gently smiled upon as ** going the pace " of spirited youth, — 
whose break-neck gallop the children of the world admire. 

But in spite of its reckless social gait, the maddest race in 
the West is the race for millions. Mere competency is destitu- 
tion; modern liffluence, poverty in the social eye. The most 
colossal fortune is still too small ; and financial ambition knows 
no bounds or limits. Therefore the most inveterate pleasure- 
seeker of the West " buckles down to business " episodically ; 
and mines, railroads, the stock-market in general, know the 
vital if transient impetus of dashing young prodigals seeking to 
multiply their surplus riches. Dick Dawson was a type of this 
typical class. Already he had drawn Joyce into more than one 
lucrative venture ; and common intimacy with the Comedy Girls 
had transformed chance social and business association into a 
relation assumptive on Dick's side, at least, of congenial, and de- 
voted friendship. The present appointment at the Palace Hotel 
was solely for Joyce's benefit, Dick being already a heavy in- 
vestor in the BuU-and- Price Rocket Mine, — the reputable Shasta's 
next-door neighbor. 

In a private room of the Palace, Messrs. Bull and Price, like 
spiders in the traditional parlor, awaited their unwary flies. 

" Dinner before business," hospitably proclaimed Mr. Bull, 
crushing their hands in a grasp of adhesive iron. Joyce ob- 
jected, but Dick carried the day by his prompt assent. Dinner 
meant wine ; and the thirst of the libations of the luncheon-de- 
luxe, which had been his send-off to the Comedy Girls, was 
crying for homeopathic assuagement. 

Face to face with the partners representing the Rocket Mine, 
one was not • surprised that Joyce had be^n unpleasantly im- 
pressed. The sharp contrast they presented was startling to the 
sensitive. Although both were of the carelessly attired yet be- 
diamonded type of business " hustler " still familiar along the 
coast, their manners and methods were no less dissimilar than 
their physiques, which were grotesquely representative of *' the 
long and the short of it." Mr. Bull, a giantesque figure, was 
black-moustached and sallow ; while " sandy " Mr. Price's diminu- 
tive stature had won him the nickname of '' Bull's pocket edi- 
tion." He spoke softly and smiled perpetually in a suave and 
ingratiating manner; but Mr. Bull boasted that he lived up to 
his name, and wore a chronically sullen scowl. 



230 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [Nov., 

At the close of the dinner, — a man's meal, plain and hearty, 
yet extending to several courses and various wines, — the table 
was cleared of all but cigars and their liquid accompaniments. 
Mr. Bull dismissed the waiter after ordering in writing materials 
from the desk ; while Mr. Price solicitously insisted that his 
guests should take their ease in seductive loungiitg-chairs. Dick, 
satiated with creature-comforts, lolled back with closed eyes ; 
and Joyce, as he pulled at his good cigar, was conscious of 
similar languor. Spiritually, the exhaustion following stress of 
thought of Pearl, was upon him. Then he had been forced to 
dine superabundantly : and though a temperate drinker, felt his 
wine to the extent of physical and mental relaxation. His sus- 
picions were lulled, his usual keenness of intellect blunted. The 
strains of an orchestra floated in at the open windows, under* 
toning the hum of life always audible in a great hotel. The 
proximity of human activity that spared Joyce the effort of per* 
sonal part in it, suited a mood which, though indolent, yet 
dreaded the isolation wherein conscience speaks. The observant 
hosts exchanged sly winks of self- congratulation. The fates were 
playing into their hands. 

Of the Rocket Mine's partners, Mr. Bull was the spokesman. 
Preparatory to breaking the somnolent silence, he flung away 
his burned-out cigar, tilted back his chair, which creaked pro- 
testingly, slanted his head to one side, wriggled his thumbs in- 
to his vest-pockets, elevated his left foot to his right knee, and 
lost himself in admiration of the trouser-plaid thus brought into 
sudden prominence. 

"Price calls this my checker- suit," he remarked, taking the 
initiative as a critic of the loudness of his tweed. " I 'm too 
tall for stripes, and plain ground don't half suit me. / want it 
staked out every time. That 's me ! Now, Price will explain 
this thing technically." 

" In the late 'sixties," proceeded Mr. Price, ** the mine now 
known as the Shasta, — originally one with its better-half, the 
Rocket, — petered out under a set of bungling tenderfeet, and was 
dead stock for twenty years. Boyle Broderick stumbled across it, 
and bought it up on spec, but died before working it, which con- 
firmed its bad name; so Jim Raymond took it off the estate. 
When he struck ore, he formed his company ; and then made a 
private throw for the Rocket, which had been thrown out at the 
start by some chump- assay ers, as a tail-end of barren rock. As 



I902.J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 231 

the white men prospecting the Rocket for Raymond when he 
died. Bull and I bid it in for ourselves, with our bottom dollars. 
But what's the use of even a gold-mine, if we can't half work 
it ? We 're dead-broke, and must let in you capitalists ! " 

" That 's right ! We 're ' let in,' sure enough ! " mumbled 
Dick, with drowsy roguishness. 

Mr. Price benignly patted him on the head. '' Go to sleep, 
little boy," he said ; and Dick promptly obeyed him. Mr. 
Bull scowled morosely into space. 

"But if a man like Mr. Raymond stood for it," argued 
Joyce, " I should think there would be not the slightest difficulty — " 

"Difficulty?" bellowed Mr. Bull. "There ain't any diffi- 
culty ! When we spring this here thing on the public the 
bottom will fall out of half the paper-mines bluffing the street. 
But we want to start right, with name and influence to boost a 
daisy prospectus ; and Jim Raymond 's dead as a door-nail, 
ain't he ? Dead men's testimony don't count shucks ! " 

" Except in murder-cases," interposed Mr. Price, facetiously. 
" But Josselyn, I know you '11 like to hear that dear old Jim 
Raymond won't be out of it! As a solid gold monument to 
his memory, we 've re-christened the Rocket — the Pioneer ! " 

The partners eyed Joyce narrowly, to note the effect of this 
stroke of genius. It was open to all who ran, to read. Joyce 
responded as to a personal compliment. 

" The Pioneer ? " he repeated. " Oh, I say, now, have you ? 
Well, we have n't a patent on the title, I suppose ! That lets 
me in sure ! " he added, in earnest jest. " No Pioneer gets on 
without me f 

" That 's the talk ! " Mr. Bull's fist on the table imperilled 
the ink-bottle. "Don't sell out your Shasta, sonny; for the 
Shasta-combine is just what the Pioneer wants ! But put in 
every other red cent you can raise on your corpse ! I 'd sell 
my own coffin to control it! " 

" Well, you see I 've been living up pretty near to my limit. 
The best I can do is to put in a thousand — " 

" Haw much ? " roared Mr. Bull. 

" One — thousand — dollars ! " 

" One — copper — cent 1 " mimicked the disappointed fortune- 
hunter, in contemptuous disgust. 

As Joyce flushed resentfully, Mr. Price's small foot indulged 
in a feminine trick, under cover of the table. 



232 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Nov., 

"Of course petty figures mean almost nothing to us!" he 
explained, gently, wincing as his danger-signals evoked a vigor- 
ous reciprocal kick from his ung^rateful partner: "but as your 
name is editorially associated with the Pioneer^ it stands for 
Jim Raymond's with the local public. Therefore, considering 
its value, — its proxical value, — " 

" But hold on ! " cried Joyce. " In that light I should think 
that Colonel Pearson — " 

•* Well, / should n't ! " interrupted the irrepressible Mr. Bull. 
** You take my advice, youngster, and keep mum till we 're 
booming. What the public knows is good enough for old 
Pearson." 

*' As I was saying," resumed Mr. Price, resignedly, " influ- 
ence is the equivalent of cash, at our present crisis ; so on con- 
dition that you share his directorship, we '11 square you with 
Dawson, as a holder of preferred stock." 

"Say, I like that!" protested Dick, awakening inoppor- 
tunely. " You hold me up for full price, and run Josselyn in 
for his pretty face, do you ? Joss, look gift-horses in the 
mouth, when Bull and Price jockey 'em. They 're not in this 
dig- out for fun I " 

"Cuss that fellow," hissed Mr. Bull, behind clinched teeth. 

" Oh, hang business," yawned Dick, stretching himself in 
peaceful ignorance of the anathema. " I 'm due where the tum- 
tum music twangs. Who 's with me ? Not one ? Ta-ta, 
then ! " 

" Poor Dicky-boy," sighed the smaller villain, as he smiled 
and smiled after the swaggering, rakish, not quite steady young 
figure. " The only son of Dawson, and he is a multi-million- 
aire ! What a lesson that happiness is a pearl above price. 
Now, your father, my boy, — " 

"And his mother,'* bettered Mr. Bull, waving his bandanna 
in sympathy with proud maternal tears. 

Joyce disclaimed the implied compliment, yet, in secret, ap- 
propriated it. He was beginning to assume personal credit for 
his success, forgetting his debt to propitious circumstances. In 
attaining Centreville College, he had started himself, with thanks 
to nobody; and what save his college- record had impressed the 
Raymonds ? Therefore his own ability had secured his prosperity. 
Yes, his father and mother might well be proud of him I Natur- 
ally, no favor showered upon him by fortune could surprise his 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 233 

mother; but Joyce knew that practical and frugal Hiram Jos- 
selyn's valuation of his son was less flattering ; and his astounded 
incredulity on the subject of the legacy, — as depicted by Father 
Martin's and Stephen's letters, — was an amusing reminiscence. 
Ten thousand dollars ! Ten thousand dollars ! The paternal 
Josselyn had winked and blinked and ruminated and chuckled, 
and finally come as mear to tears as his dry old eyes found 
possible. Then, as Joyce, in concession to his mother's urgent 
wish, had contemplated a flying visit home, Hiram Josselyn had 
written with infinite pains, in a cramped, crabbed hand, smeared 
by blots and erasures, a characteristic letter: 

*' Don't you be too soft about mindin' your ma. A woman's 
as full of notions as a colt of high-jinks, an' as little sense at 
the bottom of 'em ! Stay West till you 've got a free pass here 
an' back, if you 've got a Josselyn head on you ! All the fools 
ain't dead yet, and it 's a good place to hang round, where 
money 's goin' beggin' for owners. Ain't there any men-kin 
out there to break that will, on the ground of ravin' insanity ? 
Ten thousand dollars, by gosh ! 7>« thousand dollars, — and 
your hand not turned over to make it ! Why, son, / slaved 
and scrimped for twenty year before I'd cleared one- half of 
it. If I 've been tight-fisted in my time, hard-earned is close- 
kept, but easy-got 's easy- gone; an' a fool an' his money's 
soon parted I No, I ain't wantin' one cent of your'n, nor your 
ma ain't, neither. If you 're my son, you '11 keep tight hold 
ofitr' 

Joyce never recalled this letter without a broad smile; and 
the smile now struck inward, vastly exhilarating his spirits. 

When the subject of the mine was resumed, he discussed it 
enthusiastically. They sat late, and Mr. Bull trifled with pen 
and paper. As they talked, Joyce scribbled his signature to a 
check, and also to a second paper witnessed by a waiter and 
bell-boy, opportunely summoned by Mr. Bull upon pretext of 
a "corky" bottle. 

Finally, the three took a last drink to the luck of the Pioneer, 
and then the new mine-director was ushered out, with pater- 
nal shoulder-pattings from Mr. Bull, which Mr. Price supple- 
mented on Joyce's elbow, as the highest feature within his 
reach. 

Too excited for sleep, and elated by his financial prospects, 
Joyce took a turn about the rotunda, his head high, his blue 
eyes shining. With its scintillating dome, its palmed galleries. 



234 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Nov., 

and the classical pillars of its pretentious architecture, the court 
of the Palace seemed a harmonious setting for his ambitious 
and exultant youth. Echoes of music still haunted the air; 
and behind the palms rustled feminine gowns, alluring in their 
invisibility. The tramp of feet and noise of chairs on the reso- 
nant pavement, — the busy desk with the loiterers before the 
cigar-lamps, — the men eminent in Western politics and finance, 
grouped in animated discussion of national issues, — the rushing 
reporters saluting Joyce respectfully, while rival editors nodded 
with the specious blandness not confined to the Heathen Chinee, 
— the pell-mell telegraph bdys, breathless and independent, col- 
liding with pompous ** buttons " hurrying to and from the bar, 
— even the high notes of the telephone-bell, and the more re- 
mote yet audible click of the telegraph, — mechanical voices in- 
sistent over the human huni, — all were instinct with the impetu- 
ous life to which the thrilled Joyce felt newly akin. Reviewing 
his evening's work, he felt sure that he had done a good thing 
for himself, — a thing splendidly in touch with the wo.rld about 
him, — ambitious, progressive, and prospectively triumphant as 
valor is, that challenges Fate. 

But Joyce would scarcely have congratulated himself so op- 
timistically had he oveiheard his late associates' discussion of him, 
above-stairs. They had restrained their glee until he was safely 
out of sight and sound ; then both, as if swayed by a single 
impulse, collapsed in their chairs, and roared lustily. 

" Say, I 'm for a brandy and soda," confessed Mr. Bull, 
rising in search of his hat, as he recovered. ''I never had 
such a start in my dog-goned life as when that little sot turned 
against us ! " 

" A tipsy fool 's sharper than a sober fool," grinned Mr. 
Price, drawing on his coat. ** Of all the fresh daisies I ever 
picked, — the innocent pigeons I ever plucked, — the gullible infants 
I ever gulled, that young Yank 's the freshest, the innocentest, 
and the guUible-est ! " 

"Oh, draw it mild, Price!" protested the partner, a shade 
of anxiety recalling the scowl to his face. ** I*m not gulling 
anybody. The mine 's there, ain't it ? There 's no warrant out 
against that ! " 

" Oh, yes, the mine 's there, O. K. But the * millions ' — " 

Like many physically small men, Mr. Price was more valiant 
in spirit than his overgrown fellow. Mr. Bull bluffed, but his 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 235 

pocket- edition was the pluckier staying- partner. Knowing that 
the mine was only a hope, — a forlorn hope, — few favorable in- 
dications having rewarded the prospecting that had ruined them 
financially, Mr. Price feigned no illusions, but Mr. Bull still 
shilly-shallied. The truth, all the truth, and nothing but the 
truth, was unpleasantly suggestive of legal inquiries! 

"The millions may be in the mine, mayn't they?" he in- 
sisted. ** You can't take oath that the vein stops short with the 
Shasta, can you ? " 

" Nary an oath, till we 've drilled that last ledge. But the 
indications are — " 

** Our outfit is all on the dead square, ain't it ? " 

" 5/^«^.dead ! " 

" Tarnation- blazes ! If the danged hole .in a rock gives out 
only gravel, are we to be responsible for Nature's vacuum ? 
Anyhow, our names won't be in the prospectus, — not muchee; 
and if Dawson and Josselyn get into trouble, we can vamoose 
on tracks greased at their expense ! " 

" That 's straight. Of course old Dawson will pull out 
Dicky—" 

** Yes, and Josselyn's swelled head will be the better for a 
crack in it. Say, that * father * and * mother ' touch was the 
one that did for him ! Nothing catches fools — ^young or old — 
like sentiment ! " 

" Except ' millions .^ ' Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! " 

" Ho 1 Ho ! Ho ! " 

''He/ He! He!'' 

The bar-door swung behind the two worthies. 



CHAPTER n. 

STEPHEN GOES AWAY SORROWING. 

"What in thunder is this, eh? What's this, I say?" 
demanded Pearson, examining the files upon his return from a 
rare vacation taken on Dolly's yacht, far out of reach of 
daily mails. His eagle-eye had alighted upon the identical 
paragraph which Joyce had hoped it might overlook, — a "puff" 
for the Pioneer Mine. 

" Oh, that 's all right, Colonel," Joyce assured him confi- 



236 Joyce Josselvn, Sinner, [Nov., 

dently. "We're bound to stand by the name, wherever we 
find it, and their ad. has to be encouraged. I staked my own 
mite, and the prospectus makes me a director. Dawson's name 
stands for gold, so I suppose the pfess tips the scales with 
mind against matter. The other names on the board I don't 
know ! " 

" Dawson ? " queried the mollified Colonel. " Oh, if old 
Richard Dawson is- in it, boom away! He stands for square 
returns, and no trickery." 

" Well — er — " stammered Joyce, with reluctant candor, 
''you see. Colonel, Dick junior chances to be the particular 
Dawson in this ! But what 's in a generation ? It 's all in the 
family ! Of course the old man is behind him." 

" Of course not, you mean," differed Pearson, wrathfuUy. " I 
have yet to see Dawson senior back any of his disreputable 
son's transactions. Look here, I '11 expose this thing if it 's a 
swindle. Anyway, you 're off the straight track to push schemes 
identified with you. tf Little was fool enough to let this pass 
his desk in my absence, Kauffmann ought to have known too 
much to set it up. Our unesteemed contemporaries will jump 
all over the Pioneer^ if you make it the cat's-paw of private 
enterprises ! " 

"Private? It is bidding its best for the public's funds, any- 
way ! If you want the straight tip. Colonel, just send in your 
own check.^ Even our boys, from Kauffmann way down to 
little Billy, are in it for all they 're worth." 

" Then they 're worth gilt-edged paper, and not a red cent 
over," growled the Colonel. Joyce retreated, gnawing his pencil 
savagely. Oh, that Dolly's yacht had stayed at sea ! 

As may be seen, Messrs. Bull and Price had struck while 
the iron was hot ; and shortly after Joyce's investment the 
Pioneer was a mine-stock established. The prospectus had been 
a masterpiece of attractive promise, and the Dawson and 
Josselyn names had floated it, locally. It had scarcely seen the 
light when Joyce's office was invaded by the Pioneer's foreman, 
in behalf of the* printing- room, whose force adored Joyce. The 
foreman was a handsome pink-and-white young German 
Americanized, — Hans Kauffmann by name, — a star of the Turn- 
Verein. But the heart in his athletic physique was the child- 
like heart of the romantic Teuton ; and Joyce had won it by 
his rollicking ways. 



1902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 237 

'' I just came in to say that we 're all going into this, sir, 
on your account," he said to Joyce, twisting the prospectus in 
his big, fair hands. '' Of course we know you would n't be 
standing for it, if it wasn't the dead square thing." 

Why was Joyce startled ? He could not account for the 
disquieting effect of Hans' words, since as yet no conscious 
doubt of the mine had troubled him. Bull and Price were on 
the ground, and every day's mail brought glowing reports : 
while Dick frequently buttonholed him to suggest Australia, on 
the strength of their lucky venture. Yet, looking at Hans' 
ingenuous, trustful face, a misgiving amounting to fear took 
sudden possession of the Pioneer's director. Presentiment 
warned him against an humble following. The game of chance 
favors the rich. 

** Hans," he said evasively, " you know what Western mines 
are ! / stake what I can lose, but you risk living- wages. Set 
your boys a good example not to speculate ! " 

''Oh, we don't as a rule, sir, — just small flyers on margins, 
when we get inside- tips. But every man of us would stake our 
bottom dollar on you ! " 

" Thank you, my friend ; but this is not on me ! It is on 
the ' soulless corporation ' which has made me one of its 
honorary figure-heads. Be a good boy, Hans, and storking 
your pennies. It is safer all round, in the end." 

'' But they don't increase and multiply, sir ! " Hans' flaxen 
brows met in depressed perplexity. The hurt of the poor man 
quivered in his embarrassed, mildly protesting face, as he stood 
in his shirt-sleeves before his well-turned- out young superior. 
Tradesman and gentleman, — yet no less man and man ! Why 
should one reap rich profits, and the other yield his chance ? " 
There was protest in Hans' saddened voice. 

" We poor chaps need to rake in winnings, now and then, 
more than those rich enough to play for fun," he stated, — not 
in complaint, but in frank expression of a melancholy truth. 
" If wages are good here, living is high, — and a man can't 
marry with nothing ahead, as conditions are now, in this country. 
Yet it sets a man wrong, sir, waiting, waiting ! And there 's 
many a boy in my box." 

His guileless blue eyes had moistened emotionally, his fair 
skin flushed like a bashful child's. In spite of his stature and 
strength, he looked young, — appealingly, immaturely young! 



238 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Nov., 

Joyce felt venerable beside the contemporary who had not out- 
lived simple sentiment. To chaff Hans was irresistible. 

"What!" he laughed. "Are you boys all bent upon com- 
mitting matrimony ? Am I in for silver mugs all round ? " 

Such spontaneous touches of nature made Joyce adored by 
his subordinates. Hans looked at him with the fond, faithful 
eyes of a dog. 

" My girl 's waiting at home with my widowed old mother," 
he confided; "and the girls here won't marry till their men 
have made their piles. They say that to begin down is to stay 
down, nowadays; and what with sickness and a family to look 
ahead for, they're not so far wrong. To be ailing, and hard- 
worked, and poor all together, is death in life for a decent wo- 
man, and my girl don't come to it ! There 's a small house in 
Oakland, — I want to manage that, sir! With his home clear, 
a man can get on ! " 

"Why didn't you speak out before, Hans? A pretty blue- 
eyed Fraulein in tears for you ? Shame upon you ! I '11 speak to 
some friends of mine in the real- estate gamble. Small property 
deals can always be put through ! " 

Hans' eyes smiled gratefully. He was too experienced in 
Western methods to run his head into the noose of easy mort- 
gage and usurious interest; but he loved Joyce for the kindly 
offer. 

" Oh, my case is only the crowd's," he said, waiving per- 
sonalities with manly dignity. "Every day makes it harder 
for the under-dog, — that 's all, sir ! This curse of monopoly 
is spoiling God's country. There 's trouble ahead, — bitter 
trouble ! " 

 

" Hans ! Hans ! Anarchy ? Socialism ? That 's the bad 
drop in your grand old blood, my friend. You Germans run 
too much to trade -unions." 

" Oh, no, sir ! The unions save both sides. There 'd be 
mob-law without them. But Labor is not the only class on 
strike now, Mr. Josselyn. Trusts have struck at the family, 
and the social commonwealth. We workingmen only represent 
the great American public. Democracy against plutocracy, — 
the cause of Humanity against gilt-edged Society, — that's the 
fight on in this country of class-contrasts, to-day, sir! But I 
mustn't take up your time ! " 

" You interest me vastly. Come round to my rooms with a 



1902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 239 

boy or two of your mind, and see if the burning questions 
don't go up in smoke ! Now, as to this mine- business, here is 
my idea! You boys bank your piles till the Colonel turns up, 
and be advised by a California 'Pioneer' in the flesh. Then 
your heads, — and my own, — will lie easy ! " 

" Oh, we don't stake much on the old man's cranks," re- 
torted Hans, disrespectfully. " He 's what you call a conserva- 
tive, — not like you, sir, with a heart for us boys ! No, we 've 
all chipped in, on the strength of your name. We just thought 
you 'd like to know it ! " 

But Joyce did not like to know it ! He liked it so little 
that he dashed off a long letter of ingenuous inquiry and arca- 
dian appeal, over which the managers in the Pioneer's new 
shaft-house grinned together. Smiles came easily, nowadays, 
even to the scowling Mr. Bull; for the Pioneer had "caught 
on " with the investing public. They were raking gold in, if 
not out of the mine: and prospecting still left hope open. 

To be just to the adventurers, it seemed not impossible that 
the Pioneer might prove a second Shasta. If not, by such 
underground sleight-of-hand manoeuvres as are not unrecorded 
in the history of mining engineering, the Shasta's lode might 
yet be made common property. But the Shasta watched its 
neighbor with vigilant eyes, and iio trespass had yet been com- 
mitted. 

Joyce's journalistic indiscretion worried the Colonel, who 
fumed intermittently through the first week of his return, rashly 
threatening an injunction against the mine, on the score of its 
pre-empted name. But the proud surprise of becoming the 
grandfather of a Dolly junior suddenly distracted his thoughts 
from insignificant bachelors and their follies, professional and 
otherwise ; and as the new enterprise was not again mentioned 
in the Pioneer, the small matter of one mine more in the West, 
not unnaturally, escaped his memory. But Hans, with bright 
face and eyes beautiful with tender dreams, waylaid Joyce 
almost daily^ to say ** Sure to be a bonanza, sir / " He had 
written home of his great prospects, and the old Mutter and 
the young Madchen were preparing to emigrate. Joyce's con- 
scientious rejoinder, '' Good time to sell out, Hans," was smiled 
aside, as a standard jest. 

Joyce, just at this period, was experimenting with life in an 
exclusively masculine atmosphere. For once, he was free from 

VOL. LXXVI.— 16 



240 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Nov., 

feminine associations; and the social novelty went to his head, 
causing him to feel, in the sense of pride of sex, much akin to a 
whooping school-boy. Although faithful to affections conceived, 
and idealizing his mother, Mrs. Raymond, and Gladys Broderick 
reminiscently, yet between them and him Pearl Ripley had 
passed, and her shadow lingered behind her. Mrs. Murphy, 
good, motherly Mrs. Murphy, had been called to her reward 
less than a year after Pearl had found sanctuary with her; and 
turning from her grave, youth had rebounded from restraint, 
and become its own law, thereafter. 

Intimacy with the inferior inevitably blights the finer asso- 
ciation ; and womanhood had lost something of spiritual beauty 
and charm for Joyce, which only when his dimmed and sullied 
vision had been chastened by repentant tears, would he recog- 
nize and reverence newly. Instinctively rather than deliberately 
during his transit of bohemia, he had set aside all voluntary 
thought of Gladys, not only because he believed her to be 
sacred to Stephen, but likewise in personal reverence. But 
Mrs. Raymond's image, vivified by occasional letters, sustained 
the social standards lax diversions had rivalled but transiently; 
and released from associations which only the riotous blood of 
youth had made congenial, he rebounded to the masculine 
level. 

Between the influences of love the holy, and unholy passion, 
the difference is this : — that while love broadens otit even as it 
intensifies natural tenderness, which it purifies from self and 
sense, — passion's flame sears the pure and delicate love-nature, 
and burning out, leaves the profaned heart a waste, — the superior 
sentiments in ashes. In Joyce's heart only a surface- flame, 
light and brief-lived, had flickered; but even such burns its 
scar upon youth and innocence. In the stress of such moral 
temptation as is man's virgin battle too often lost unfought, his 
simple-hearted and ingenuous^ youth, — prolonged into maturity 
because its original develo|iment had been belated, — had fallen, 
and not re- risen. He was stolid, now, where he had been 
over-tender. Complemental femininity no longer seemed essen- 
tial to his happiness. His loyalty to surviving ideals was a 
passive rather than an active sentiment. Transitional indiffer- 
ence was bound to pass ; but while it obtained, it wounded 
sensitive souls allied to him by natural love and spiritual charity. 
Mrs. Raymond, indeed, laughed significantly over his jaunty 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 241 

letters, and flattered him by congratulations upon his evolution 
as a man of the world; but Gladys^ to whom she read them, 
looked wistful and serious ; while far away in Maintown, mother- 
tears, scarce knowing why they fell, blotted Joyce's still fre- 
quent if less tender letters: and Father Mai'tin sighed more 
often than smiled, as he spoke of Joyce to Stephen. 

Stephen's informal descent upon the retired rectory, snowed- 
in by New England's white mid- winter, had been a vast sur- 
prise to the Maintown pastor; but like a good Samaritan, he 
was ever ready for hospitality, and heartily welcomed his guest. 
It had been Gladys' earnest wish to see Father Martin before 
sailing, but Imogen, dreading his cousinly inquisition into her 
plans and their motives, had contrived to render a meeting im- 
possible ; so Gladys was forced to content herself with a fare- 
well letter delivered by Stephen in person. Her first impulse 
had been to confide their understanding to her spiritual father; 
but later, she decided to leave the initiative to Stephen. Be- 
tween- line significances, however, are seldom missed by the 
intuitive and experienced; and what the insight of the priest 
failed to divine in Gladys' letter, Stephen communicated with 
a simplicity so boyish as to be touching in one of his reserved 
nature. Yet in this he was but true to a characteristic of his 
sex; since in the rose-strewn ways of* the^ world, all men are 
bom veterans; while the thorny ways of heart and spirit 
prove every man a child. Pain steals- like a profaner upon the 
complacent well-being of the masculine nature; and surprised 
by a foe that physical force fails to conquer,, it weakens, and 
leans, and craves consolation. Only heroic men stand the test 
of spiritual suffering. The many evade it at the cost of its 
reward ; — the sad secret of unfulfilled destinies ! 

On the night of Stephen's arrival, host and guest talked 
long and late; and when Stephen had retired at last, the 
priest knelt in the church, dark save for the ruddy flicker of 
the Tabernacle lamp, and thanked God that this struggling soul 
had been guided to him. Even in its happy hope, its virtual 
assurance of granted desire, Stephen's love for Gladys had not 
healed the wound of Mina's death ; and as again and again his 
heart-cry sobbed across the love-strain of his confidence re- 
garding his conditional betrothal. Father Martin could not but 
recognize the subordinateness of a sentiment which, even in its 
hour of birth, fraternal grief exceeded. But listening to all, he 



242 ' JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Nov., 

spoke but little ; leaving Stephen, even as Gladys had left him. 
to the apocalypse of the Spirit. 

Yet gently, insensibly, not by precept or. controversy, but 
by tender expression of his own thoughts of Mina, shorn of 
sadness by his joyous faith in the immortality of life and love, 
Father Martin won Stephen ;from his morbid mourning, trans- 
muting grief for the dead into spiritual communion with the 
deathless. Then, as his heart slowly yet surely rebounded from 
pain to peace, Stephen's thoughts naturally concentrated on 
Gladys. 

Analyzing his strange, sweet content in the unworldly at- 
mosphere of the rectory, he ascribed the delicate yet complex 
transformation within him to love, which as a new force in his 
life seemed the solution of all present problems. Like many 
men of unsquandered and unprofaned sentiment, he idealized 
love, once its white flame ignited him; reverencing Gladys as 
an angel-pure Sara, for whom human man must ser\*e! To 
exalt his soul to her heights, to refine his mind by commun- 
ings with the most spiritual thinkers, to cleanse his heart from 
the grime of the world, seemed the natural rather than the 
supernatural condition upon which he should dare to press bis 
suit. Therefore he welcomed his seclusion, as love's purifyirg 
probation. He forgot that love is twofold, — Divine and human : 
that above the love of- woman, ** God is Love!" 

God's methods, and man's, are at striking variance. The 
human work is impetuous, hurried,i and always conspicuous for 
the personal imprint. God's work is gradual, and not infre- 
quently screens itself behind its created instrument Not. until 
the shadows fled did Steplien recognize how, from first to last, 
the coercive Hand of God had rested upon his unconscious 
soul. At the outset, light and grace seemed to reach him 
through human and intellectual, rather than spiritual channels. 
Sharing Father Martin's round of calls, — which extended beyond 
parish boundaries 'and congregation, to his Maintown neighbors 
i!n general, — Stephen's human sympathies were broadened and 
his social conservati&m reproached as he recognized the spiritual 
and intellectual worth of a brotherhocd new to him : — that of 
the New England soil-tillers, justly representative of Nature's 
noblemen, — intelligent, earnest, heroically laborious and of Spar- 
tan fortitude, — earth-bound by the jstiuggle to wrest daily bread 
from a Mother too ofttn niggardly, yet with eagle- spirits royally 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 243 

contemptoous of effeminate luxury and snobbish codes mocking 
Christian precepts, satirizing common humanity, and devitaliz- 
ing sane simplicity of life. 

Passing on from general to particular observation, Stephen's 
intimate association with Father Martin's apostolic life inevita- 
bly impressed him spiritually. Early Ma^^s in the gloom and 
discomfort of New England's stinging morning-cold, — doubly 
sharp in comparison with California's soft winters, — heavy sleigh- 
ing in the face of drifting storms, when sick-calls summoned 
the physician of souls to the far borders of his parish : — heroic 
tramps to victims of accident or sudden visitation, on bluster- 
ing midnights when local trains were delayed, and continuous 
carriage-roads still imperfectly broken, — the whole sacrificial life 
of' the Martin Carruth who had been and might have remained 
a rich man of the world, — a life of plain fare, of ceaseless self- 
denial, of penitential duty, of humble obscurity, compelled 
Stephen's homage, and initiated his inquiry into the super- 
human reasons for such immolative human consecration ; thus 
leading him naturally within proxical hearmg of Christ's sweet, 
convincing Voice. 

'Then came the intellectual call, clarion-clear down the A. D. 
ages. Centreville College had grounded htm well in the pagan 
classics, and m the humanitarian science and literature of mod- 
ern centuries;, but it was left for the rectory -library to hold 
him the classics of Christianity in the works of the great theo- 
logians,— >-sublime poets, pure prosaists, profound philosophers, 
true logicians, supreme scientists, — the intellectual galaxy shin- 
ing immortally because celestially, beneath whose star-light the 
ignis-fatuus of godless intellect, flaring up fitfully, expires in 
eternal darkness. 

The library proved to Stephen the vestibule of the church. 
If his soul rather than his intellect led the way, as yet he did 
not know it. As a refuge in. mental weariness, a retreat for 
meditation undistracted and restful, he turned at first to the 
quiet altar. Then the mystic spell of the Tabernacle stole upon 
his quickened spirit like a kiss in the dark, gently, lingeringly, 
leaving sweet traces, — Faith's soft, silent kiss of peace ! 

Yet who save the recording angel, and the man himself in 
his personal confessions, shall depict the struggle of the mascu- 
line soul, choosing between the sacrificial obligations of faith 
victorious over doubt, and the agnostic way free and easy ? 



244 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Nov., 

Although godly by nature, Stephen had followed his world in 
ignoring religion in practice, while its advocate in theory : and 
pride, self-love, unpenitential habit, and nature's human dread 
of the spiritual life's demands and restrictions, retarded his 
ascent towards the Sacraments. 

But what God begins. He is fain to finish; and man's ill- 
will alone sta3's His perfecting Hand. Correspondence to grace 
was the germ in Stephen's soul, which slowly yet surely fructi- 
fied to vocation. 

Then, past him who had rejected it, to Stephen who dallied 
with it, rang the call of Christ to the rich young man of the 
gospels : 

" Go, sell what (hou hasty . . . and come, follow Me /'* 

The '* great possessions " of wealth were comparatively easy 
for Stephen to ssicflfic^ ; but man's love for a maid is a dearer 
possession. 

Stephen's human heart was at war with his soul. Like his 
prototype, he " becaifae sorrowful." 

There are heroic ' soiils to whom the call to perfection is a 
message of ecstasy ; but if sweet at all to the majority of the 
called, at best it is sWeetly terrible! However strong may be 
the spiritual instinct to respond, still stronger, in the natural 
sense, is the human impulse of' resistance. Stephen's resistance 
took the delusive form of a stubborn sense of honor to Gladys. 
He must await her return, and abide by her verdict. In the 
meantime, he craved oblivion. 

" I must back to the West ! Affairs of weight demand my 
personal attention," he announced to Father Martin; neither 
surprising nor deceiving that astute discerner of spirits. 

" Ah ? " queried the priest, his quizzical tone and mischiev- 
ous eyes causing Stephen to flush like a school-boy. *' Oppor- 
tune affairs are the providential resource of the righteous, eh ? 
Well, how soon may I expect your return ? " 

" I have imposed too long upon your hospiitality. Why 
take my return for granted ? " 

"Why not ? You are that sinner or saint — a man of leisure; 
and committed to the cause of my local youth ! The ' Young 
Men's Guild ' will ' combust ' spontaneously, if you desert it at 
this inflammable juncture ! " 

For Stephen's life at the rectory had not been self-centred. 



1902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 245 

The need of social missionary work among his young farmers 
and townsmen ' had troubled Father Martin not a little : and 
Joyce's windfall of fortune having stimulated local interest in 
the West« the enterprising pastor had seized the opportunity 
of a Parish Reunion to press his guest from the coast into 
speaking publicly upon "The Young Man in Modern Life." 
The success of the experiment suggested the prompt in'stitution 
of a Young Men's Guild, to meet weekly for mutual helpful- 
ness, under Stephen's temporary presidency. In his gratification 
at the result, Father Margin perpetrated a bull; assuring his 
Bishop, who had been pleased to confirm his favorite's kinsman, 
that " the best of all >curates for an up-to-date pastor is a vice- 
less young man of the world!" 

" The ' Ypiing Men's Guild,' then, shall justify my return, — 
if I c^turn," smiled Stephen. " But I shall feel such a drone 
in the masculine hive ! By what right do I withdraw from 
men's active concerns ? Modern life is a rush, with no respite." 

"Too rushing for remembrance of Christ's own bidding, — 
' Come apart into a desert place ^ and rest a little' Occasional 
withdrawal from the day's heat and burden is the secret of all 
well-poised life. The development of the worlding is inevitably 
inharmonious and one-sided. The soul, the heart, even the in- 
tellect in its highest sense, are denied their sustenance, which is 
contemplation. A man must enter his chamber and shut the 
door, if he would adjust his life to the Divine Standard 
within him. Externals are the volatile corks of life, compelling 
it to float on the surface- shallows. It is . only when we leave 
publicity for solitude, and convention for conviction and its 
courage, that we probe to our human depths." 

" But my place in the world — " 

" Are you certain that your place is in the world ? " ven- 
tured Father Martin, for the first time hinting the thought of 
his soul. "There are special vocations for the lone mountain- 
paths, though the many throng the main-travelled roads. St. 
Ignatius shall greet your return with the beacon- light of his 
* Election of States.' I must look up my Bellecio, who trans- 
mits the light purely, — the ' kindly light ' that has led many a 
wanderer home. Then Hecker's soul-struggle is our American 
religious classic. I would put it into the hands of every young 
American of ideals, irrespective of creed and vocation. The 
' measure of a man ' is in it." 



246 Joyce JOSSELYn, sinner. [Nov. 

" St Ignatius and Father Hecker have my thanks in ad- 
vance. But my 'election of state' is a case of 'place aux 
damts!' You know I consider myself engaged to Gladys." 

" My dear Stephen, until orange blossoms and white satin 
have been doffed for the travelling- gown, I believe the masculine 
point of view is proverbially inconsequent. Anyway, as / 
understand the matter, Gladys recognizes only your friendship. 
Do not resist her intuitions on any ground but your own flrm 
conviction that marriage alone is your call and choice. Your 
present liberty of spirit is an inestimable grace. Upon its use 
or abuse hangs your future." 

" I realize it. Frankly, my return-journey to the world is a 
test, an experiment. I think it but wise to prove the strength 
and permanency of — present attractions." 

" ' Here is wisdom !'...' He that winneth souls is 
wise.' . . . Beware of the wisdom of the world, my Stephen 1 
Yet there is nothing like a reversion, to convince u5 of pro- 
gress. Then since delay is enervating, and procrastination steals 
more than time, why not go at once, that you may return the 
sooner ? " 

" If I return at all ! " 

" All right. That goes ! Now, a leave-taking call on the 
Josselyns must be, your charity. There will be maternal mes- 
sages for Joyce." 

It was at this crisis that Hiram Josselyn's letter of sage if 
sordid advice, already quoted, counteracted the effect of mother- 
love's message : " Tell my son Joyce to come home, or I 'II go 
West to set htm ! " 

Poor mother! How little she foresaw the circumstances 
under which her tender threat would be fulfilled ! 
{to be continued.) 




She Bells op S^f. CQaf^y. 

BY REV. JULIAN E. JOHNSTONE. 

CHIMING bells, O rhyming bells, 
O silver bells of sweet St. Mary, 
O'er fells and dells your music swells, 
Celestial sweet, divinely airy ! 
Through cool air clear your anthems dear 

I hear across the river. 
And through my soul your psans roll, — 
O would It were for ever! 

O golden bells, and olden bells, 

The blessed bells of sweet St. Mary's,. 
How crystal clear upon the ear 

Your tinkling tones fall like a fairy's ! 
The linnet harks, and e'en the lark's 

Sweet song beside the river 
Grows sudden still, and on the hill 

With joy the aspens shiver! 

O singing bells, O ringing bells, 

O swinging bells of sweet St. Mary, 
What faith sublime your chiming tells, 

What golden truth, aad^^b^lfte. so .airy ! 
Ye-'smg of love, of Heaven above, 

Of God, the gift and giver, 
And bid us live for Christ, and give 

Our hearts to Him for ever ! 

O tinkling bells, O twinkling bells, 

O jingling bells of sweet St. Mary, 
How many a heart with feeling wells^ 

As o'er it swells your music airy! 
How many a tear and memory dear 

Rise up, by magic bidden. 
As o'er the soul your pxans roll, 

And waken faith long hidden ! 

O chiming bells, O rhyming bells, 

O silver bells of sweet St. Mary, 
Ring on, sing on, o'er hills and dells. 

And all the Saviour's praises vary I 
At vespers dim your golden hymn 

Ring out across the river. 
And let your chime, your song sublime. 

Win souls to God for ever ! 



248 UNITARIANISM AND FOREIGN MISSIONS. [Nov., 



UNITARIANISM AND FOREIGN MISSIONS. 

BY J. S. 

IN the October Catholic World Magazine we 
complied with the demand of the Reverend Dr. 
Edward Everett Hale, of Boston, for information 
about St. Francis Xavier, his converts and their 
descendants. The reverend doctor's exact words 
were : " Xavier's missions have been well ' written up ' by his 
fellows in the Society of Jesus. ' A nation in a day ' will be 
converted. There ts a well- authenticated account of great sue* 
cess, I think in Ceylon, where the number of converts was 
so great that it required a fire-engine to baptize the throng. 
But what became of these converts ? Where are they now, or 
their successors ? They have made a very perfect comment on 
the parable of Xavier's- master and leader; for 'the seed had 
no root; and because it had no root and was not attended to, 
it withered away.' " 

Rev. Dr. Hale must have had a purpose in calling up the 
subject of Christian missions to the heathen. He should be 
too earnest, and is considered too learned, to be frivolous and to 
display gross ignorance. But we have a right to take him 
seriously and we elect to do so. Having posted him about 
Xavier's missions, we will now tell him of another distinct and 
even more successful effort of the Catholic Church, in obedi- 
ence to her Founder's order to preach his gospel through all 
the world. 

Rev. Dr. Hale loves to keep alive in the hearts of young 
Americans, as sacred, knowledge of the Colonial, Revolutionary, 
and Union histories of their ancestors, and he does well; these 
are proud and noble memories. Yet there are sublimer records 
of faith and lives and acts than those that New-Englanders can 
look back upon. Our forebears fought for liberty, for homes, 
for happiness; but Catholic missionaries die to this world and 
spend themselves, to Christianize and elevate others, strangers 
to themselves though equally with themselves children of God. 
Young Americans know that North America was overrun 



I902.] Unitarianism and Foreign Missions. 249 

by Catholic missionaries a century before the Pilgrim Fathers 
landed at Plymouth ; that many successes in the conversion of 
the natives were effected, and that deep traces remain of these 
missionary efforts on this northern continent. Why should they 
be ignorant of the church's Blighty work and extraordinary 
success in converting South America from paganism to Chris- 
tianity ? We do not believe that one American boy out of 
hundreds knows anything about the matter. After refreshing 
our memory by recurrence to Tr W. M. Marshall's Christian 
Missions^ we will give them a glimpse of it 

The vast enterprise, begun three hundred and fifty-three 
years ago, of Christianizing and lifting to civilization the abo- 
rigines of South America: tribes, in various degrees of bar- 
barism, and peoples, so low as to be without tribal organiza- 
tion and living burrowed in the ground, has left a record of 
faith, zeal, fortitude, valor, charity, and fruitage, without any 
parallel since the triumph of the church under Constantine, 
A/ D. 312. In presence of its splendor of Christian heroism 
and charity the most brilliant military glory, nay, even patriotic 
glory, pales and shrinks. 

The conversion of South America from barbarism was the 
work at first of Jesuits, and later ^Iso of Franciscans and Do- 
minicans. The wild populations referred to were changed from 
cannibalism to Christianity, from bestiality to modesty ; they 
have reached various degrees of civilization and cultivation ; in- 
stead of being exterminated they have multiplied in numbers, 
and, through three hundred years, or twelve generations, they 
have clung with tenacity of love to their Catholic faith. 

Is it not well that American youth — constantly allured to 
infidelity and dazzled by a refined paganism — should be told 
of these triumphs of real religion ? 

The missionary fathers — men of gentle birth and cultivated 
tastes — fired by a holy zeal, after preparing for their great en- 
terprise, sought out these innumerable bodies of savages living 
in another continent on a level with brutes, and spent them- 
selves with intrepid valor and an inexhaustible patience, and 
with results that astounded Europe. Macaulay (in his essay on 
Ranke's history of the popes) says that the church's gain of 
souls in the New World more than offset her losses in the 
Old. Against innumerable obstacles and discouragements, their 
numbers constantly depleted by martyrdom, with incredible 



250 Unitarianism and Foreign Missions. [Nov., 

perseverance, these apostles fought on and laboriously changed 
these ferocious warriors — men of foul superstitions — into gentle, 
inddstfious, and believing Christians. 

The missionaries first learned the languages or dialects of 
the natives, living among them meanwhile on berries and roots, 
in rude cabins ; taught them the rudiments of faith and civil- 
ization, provided schools for their children, taught these their 
letters and the three R's (which they were proud to learn), and 
catechized them in their own tongues. From their system of 
beneficence the priests never deviated, and the native found in 
every forest and on the banks of every river a friend, a father, 
and a guide, come to save him from himself and from his 
oppressors, and come to teach him to love a religion that could 
move such men to abandon home, country, and kinsfolk, in 
order to make such as him a partaker of its promises, its joys, 
and its rewards. 

The methods used by the fathers were prayers, examples in 
holy living, explanations of the faith, use of th« crucifix, rosary, 
and other pious e^nblems; music, ritual, and worship. First 
came ft church, then a school, and around these a village was 
soon gatJi'fered. ~ TJie neophytes were taught to sow and reap, to 
plant and build, to read and sing. 

Our missionaries are ever light-hearted, and a letter from 
Brazil says : '* Our house is composed of a number of long 
pole^» the interstices filled with clay. Its principal apartment, 
I4f. X 10 f., is at once our school, infirmary, dormitory, refectory, 
kitchen, and store-room (with twenty-six inmates), yet all our 
brothers are delighted with it, nor would they exchange this 
hut for the most magnificent palace. They remember that the 
Son of God was born in a stable, where there was but little 
space, and died on the cross, where there was still less." 

The Fathers had to contend not only against the ignorance 
and ferocity of the natives, but also against the immoralities of 
reckless adventurers from Europe, self- banished and stained by 
crime; but, by uncompromising though gentle firmness, the na- 
tives, and many even of the missionaries' fallen fellow- Christians, 
were vanquished. 

These heroic men, zealous for souls, having severed all ties 
to life, were not only fearless of martyrdom but ambitious of it. 
They forced the savages from cannibalism and other gross crimes, 
by penances inflicted on themselves, continued until the natives 



I902.] Unitarianism and Foreign Missions, 251 

could not endure the sight and broke down before them and 
promised and undertook amendment. No Catholic missionary 
w^ill let a neophyte surpass him in self-denial and mortification. 
If, anywhere, natives be vegetarians, their missionary will never 
touch meat. He will always set an example in fortitude. When 
those poor savages, prone to indulgence and excesses, demanded, 
"Why do you seem to abhor what other men desire?" their 
mentor would reply, drawing from his. pocket a discipline, by 
good use of this scourge I keep my body in subjection. 

After a century of these devoted labors — at the beginning 
of the seventeenth century — as Ranke says, " We find the proud 
edifice of the Catholic Church reared in South America: five 
archbishoprics, twenty-seven bishoprics, four hundred monas- 
teries, and innumerable parish churches, also cathedrals, and- 
universities where the liberal arts and a complete system of 
theological discipline were taught." Of course, the number of 
missionaries was great, belonging to several of the Church's 
regular orders. Of Jesuits alone there were at one time seven- 
teen hundred, out of the thirteen thousand members of that 
Company then spreading the faith in every part of the globe. 

That numerous and marvellous miracles were vouchsafed to 
these men of God goes without saying. Even with all the 
personal efforts of missionaries, it. is greatly owing to such aid 
from Heaven that the Catholic Church owes her fecundity in 
missions, and to its entire absence that non-Catholic missions 
owe their sterility. Souls overawed by a heroism - beyond 
previous conception are as it were in touch with Divinity, and 
almost expect — at least are not surprised by — supernatural 
recognitioni and ready to trust the attestation of their senses 
when apparently such recognition is vouchsafed. Our Lord 
pointed to his miracles, and demanded faith in return. To the 
messengers from St. John the Baptist, demanding of Him who 
He was, He replied: **Tell John what you have seen and 
heard : the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are made clean, 
the deaf hear, the dead rise again, and the poor have the gos- 
pel preached to them." Nor do we forget His promise to 
His first missionaries: ** These things, and greater than these, 
shall ye do in My name." 

Unitarians cannot abide miracles; the very idea is to them 
almost uncanny. Having disposed of nearly all of those con- 
tained in the Bible, and being hot after the few that yet remain. 



252 UNITARIANISM AND FOREIGN MISSIONS, [Nov., 

of course they will scout the idea of modern ones. Yet, the 
many and wonderful miracles that accompanied the entrance in- 
to Christendom of South America were witnessed and attested 
by multitudes, by whole communities, by people from all ranks 
in life. Why, pray, need we doubt the possibility of miracles, 
provided we deserve them ? Marshall well exclaims : " What 
new god is this, who has neither the will nor the power to in- 
terfere in human affairs, and who is as hopelessly fettered by 
the laws of nature as a plant or an insect." 

If duly attested, a modern miracle should be as credible as 
an ancient one, and, as a scientist has cleverly said : '* If inde- 
pendent witnesses can be found, who speak truth more fre- 
quently than falsehood, it is always possible to assign a num- 
ber of independent witnesses, the improbability of the falsehood 
of whose concurring testimony shall be greater than that of the 
miracle itself." 

The late Mr. Parton once wrote : ** If a miracle happened 
to me while I stood surrounded by President and cabinet, the 
Supreme Court and both houses of Congress, I would not be- 
lieve it," which I presume to be good Unitarianism. I will 
suggest the only tolerable justification of such incredulity, which, 
indeed, I held to, when young! Behold the wonders of crea- 
tion ; the Wain, Orion's Belt, the Pleiades, Uranus, and equal 
wonders revealed by the microscope; come up to a height and 
look down at human beings, crawling like ants below us. Then 
ask, will God busy Himself in the affairs of men ! It is since 
those younger years that I have known men and women (pos- 
sibly Mr. Parton had never met such) that seemed to me truly 
worthy of the notice of God. Again, though our earth be 
relatively so small, it still is perhaps the tabernacle of all the 
worlds and the envied of all others ; the one world to which 
God Himself has come, in which He is, and in which He will 
remain until its end. 

If Unitarian^ would justly weigh the matter, they might see 
in the unquestioned transformation of South America from bar- 
barism to Christianity a miracle more stupendous and more 
difficult to credit than any other that has ever been proposed 
for their belief. 

It is for the information and edification of young Americans 
that we have glanced thus briefly at one of the many glorious 
episodes (covering a mere century) of the Catholic Church. 



I902.] Unitarianism and Foreign Missions. 253 

We need not contrast the two Americas : bright minds will do 
that without any hint from us. The peoples of South America 
are brave and intelligent, and poetry, music, art, literature, not 
less than does commerce, flourish among them. Our intercourse 
with them is growing, and visitors from our land, whether for 
business or pleasure, if they shall find there anything to oifend 
taste or judgment will also observe much that they will be glad 
to copy, and will not regret that those peoples were converted 
rather than exterminated. 

We think Rev. Dr. Hale will concede that in South America, 
as in Japan, the Catholic seeds sown by Jesuits and by other 
orders of the Church had roots, were well attended to, and did 
not wither away. We know perfectly well that Dr. Hale never 
in his life meant harm to any man, woman, or child-^nay, to 
any brute. He speaks according to his light ; according to such 
light as Unitarians have ; which if not utter darkness, is at best 
but dim twilight, causing them to grope and stumble and get 
nowhere. Will not he and they, please, seek more light, than 
they now *have, and, firstly, condescend to investigate and 
study Catholicity: the whole of Christianity, as distinct from 
fractional Christianity and no- Christianity ; weigh the induce- 
ments that the Church's enemies have had to misrepresent her, 
and recall the problems that interest them and that she only 
can help them solve? If they shall seriously consider the 
Roman Catholic Church, they will be doing what many other 
non-Catholic Americans are doing, and Unitarians should be of 
the humor to lead rather than to follow. We promise that they 
shall not be allowed to forget this matter. 



>sib^ 




[Nov. 



CQemoi^ies. 

BY FRANCIS J. ROHR. 

IS when the night is still and lonely 
I love to commune with the past, 
Where the forms of the bygone are wand'ring 
And the wrecks of my hopes 
Are laid low in life's blast. 

Sweet strains the burden of memories, 
Sweet songs of hours of bliss: 
My heart it is trembling with anguish 
At memory's burning sad kiss. 

Oh the gleam of the moon 

And the glint of the stars 

Are there and shining as ever; 

But the joys of those hours. 

Like sad faded flowers, 

Wilt blossom and cheer us oh rever! 

But their mem'ry so holy, 

So sacred and dear, 

It comes like a boon to my bosom, 

To soothe the lone heart, 

To wake a sweet tear 

That I and the past had to part. 



« 


« 


Dlews anb IRevicws. 


^ 


+ 



DtUtznch-McC^imtLClL : ^SaAel and Bidi^ ; 2, Thwaites : Father Marguetie \ 3. 
Pagasii: Sci^ce 0/ the Saints ; 4. Doraog^con: La Magie JModtme ; 5. Mer- 
cier-Wirth: Relation of Experimental Psychology to Phiiosophy ; 6. Torrcilles: 
LeMouvetnent Theologique en France ; 7. Gihr: The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass; 
8. Henry : Ibems, Charades, Inscriptions of P^pe Leo XIII, ; 9 Field : Lettets 
of Chat Us CafrollofCarrollton, and of his Father, Charles Carroll of Doughore- 
gan; 10. Hetttog^er-Stcpka : Timothy; 11. Cecelia: More Home Truths 
for Mary's Children; 12. Steele: Convents of Great Britain; 13. Smith: 
The Altar Boys Own Book; 14. MacE^illy: Discourses, Doctrinal and 
Moral; 15. Roddy: Elemefitary Geography; Complete Geography; 16. 
Letcher: St, Dominic and the Rosary; 17. Alden : Unto the End; 18. 
Hortiyold : 7 he faith of Old England; 19. Boyle : Instructions on Preach' 
ing, Catechizing, and Clertcal Life ; 20. Instructions and Prayers for Catho- 
lic Youth; Laaance: Little Manual of St. Anthony of Padua, 



1. — ^Whcn a professor in the University of Berlin undertakes 
to popularize his researches, it is safe to say that he will reach 
an innumerable body of readers and will profoundly influence 
the minds of his contemporaries. A little over a year ago 
Professor Harnack published, in a form accessible to every one 
his views on the essence of Christianity; and without doubt 
that work became one of the most influential productions of 
modern times. Now Dr. Friedrich Delitzsch has just brought out 
a little volume,* the power of which will be almost equally great. 

It is on the results of Assyriological research and explora- 
tion, as these results affect the Old Testament. The subject is 
full of difHculties, beset with uncertainties and wavering hy- 
potheses, and not by any means free from peril. For a long 
time it has been known that striking resemblances exist between 
certain stories of the Babylonian mythology and parts of the 
book of Genesis. It is certain too that the civilization of 
Babylon reached back to a much greater antiquity and attained 
a vastly greater splendor than that of the Hebrews. Conse- 
quently if there is a relation not only of similarity but also of 
dependence between the Genesiac records and the religious 
conceptions of the Babylonians, it would appear that the He- 
brew account drew upon Babylonian sources rather than that 
the Babylonian account drew upon Hebrew sources. The most 

* Babel mmd Bihlt : A LectL.e on the Significance of Assyriological Research for Religion. 
Delivered before the German Emperor by Dr. Friedrich Delitzsch, Professor of Assyriology 
in the University of Berlin. Translated by Thomas J. McCormack. Chicago : The Open 
Court PubHsbing Co. 

▼OU LXXVI.— 17 



256 Views and Reviews. [Nov., 

remarkable parallelisms are between : The Genesis creation- story 
and the Marduk creation- myth ; the serpent and the temptation 
in Eden, and representations on Babylonian tablets which sug- 
gest a similar ghostly narration ; and above all, the Mosaic 
account of the flood and the astonishing clay inscription found 
at El Amarna. These and some other resemblances Dr. De- 
litzsch enlarges upon with a view of maintaining that it is only 
by knowing ancient Babylon that we can know the less ancient 
book of Genesis. He writes with great calmness and modera- 
tion. From the beginning to the end of his lecture he displays 
a noble attitude of humility which lends an irresistible charm to 
his exhaustive scholarship. But what are we to think of his 
thesis ? In the first place, he has already been opposed by an- 
other German scholar. Dr. Konig, who contends that Dr. 
Delitzsch makes far too positive a position out of very insecure 
premisses. With regard both to the age and the meaning of 
important Assyriological texts, he declares that the venerable 
Berlin scholar has ventured on more than one interpretation 
which the present findings of science do not establish. Hence 
we still may say: 

Grammatici certant et adhuc sub judice lis est. 
In the second place, it is of the utmost moment to remem- 
ber that even in the closest similarities between Babel and 
Bible, the Hebrew account is always cleansed and purified from 
the wild fancies and the polytheistic errors of the Babylonian. 
This one consideration simply shatters into fragments the theory 
which would make the Hebrews dependent on their powerful 
neighbors for their religious beliefs. Dr. Delitzsch certainly 
deserves some adverse criticism for not making this aspect of 
his question more definite and clear. The Hebrews were mono- 
theistic, and despite a universal polytheistic surrounding, mono- 
theistic they remained. Now, with this supremely important 
consideration before the mind, some Catholic scholars, and those 
of our very best, have not hesitated to admit that the ancient 
Hebrews adapted for the expression of their own high and 
pure religious conceptions the prevalent speech and similes and 
allegories around them. The Biblical account of creation and of 
the fall of man remains not less true and noble because, in the 
expression of these truths, a pictorial language is employed 
which has borrowed colors from even pagan mythology. The 
mystery of Transubstantiation loses not one distinctively Chris- 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 257 

tiian note because, in explaining it, theologians use the language 
and the thought of Aristotle. Biblical scholars within the 
church are coming in increasing numbers to see that in dealing 
with the earlier chapters of Genesis, the central substance of 
religious truth is the important thing, and that the language 
which clothes this substance and the forms which embody it are 
of immeasurably less moment. We earnestly urge upon our 
readers, especially the priests among them, to keep in touch 
with the methods of Biblical study and Biblical apologetics now 
adopted by our foremost Catholic scholars. We ought to pos- 
sess and to study books like the Abbe Loisy's Les premieres 
cliapitres de la Genese et les mythes babyloniens ; Houtin's La 
Question Biblique ; and such eminently fine periodicals as, for 
example, the Revue Biblique^ edited by Pere Lagrange; the 
Studi Religiosi of Florence, and the Revue d'Histoire et de 
Littirature Religieuses of Paris. There is no danger that any 
established conclusion of modern learning will be refused ad- 
mittance to the halls of Catholic scholarship. 

2. — From the point of view of a scholarly acquaintance with 
the subject, it is doubtful if any other man is so well equipped 
for writing the life of Pere Marquette as Mr. Reuben Gold 
Thwaites.^ Mr. Thwaites has spent years of toil in editing the 
monumental " Jesuit Relations " ; and consequently the period 
covered by his hero's career is familiar to him in its least 
details. In a simple, noble style, with sympathy and reverence 
for the divinely beautiful life of Marquette, he has given us a 
biography which it will do every man good to read. The best 
apologetic for faith is not in metaphysics, but in self-sacrifice; 
not in the works of the academy and the school, but in the 
lowly fellowship with Christ in hard ways of great trial and 
manifold sufferings. Of this Christ-like character Marquette is a 
commanding example ; and out of his laborious journeyings, his 
wild exile and his besetting dangers, he to-day challenges the 
world's enthusiasm at once for himself and for the faith which 
sustained and ennobled him. To read the life of such a man is 
to have greater faith in humanity and deeper love for God. We 
thank Mr. Thwaites for the service he has done mankind in 
writing this book. 

3. — Pagani's Science of the Saints,^ of which the Messrs. 

* Father Marquette. Hy Reuben (iold Thwaitrs. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 
\ Tht Science of the Saints. H\ I^agani . 3 vob. New Yi»rk : Benzij,'t'r Brothers. 



2S8 V/EH^S AND REVIEWS. [Nov., 

Benziger have brought out a new edition, is well known to all 
readers of spiritual literature. The plan of the book, it will be 
remembered, consists in assigning one or more virtues to each 
month, and devout considerations on these virtues for every 
day of the month. Besides the theory of spirituality, there is 
an abundance of edifying anecdote and interesting incident. We 
can only wish success to so long- tried and so beneficent a work 
as The Science of the Saints, 

4. — In La Magie Moderne* we have a translation of the 
third Italian edition of Padre Rolfi's work on modern hypnotic 
and spiritualistic phenomena. The scope of the book is very 
extensive, including a discussion of the methods and effects of 
hypnotism and hypnotic suggestion ; of the marvellous physical 
achievements of sortie subjects while in the state of hypnosis; 
and finally of the moral judgment to be passed by a prudent 
Catholic Christian on this whole complicated and amazing affair. 
In his estimate the author takes a sensible and fairly liberal 
view. He scouts the idea which is still so shamefully current 
in text-books of Catholic philosophy, that hypnotic phenomena 
are most likely diabolic, and allows a legitimate field for the 
cautious employment of hypnosis. Taken as a whole the 
work is fairly thorough, very interesting, and modern enough to 
be creditable to the author and encouraging to all who have 
not lost hope in a revival of philosophy among Catholics. 

6. — Students of philosophy need not be urged to put them- 
selves in possession of any new work by Mgr. Mercier. His 
twenty years of labor at Louvain, his position at the fore- 
front of the neo-Thomistic movement which endeavors to hold 
fast to ancient principles while generously accepting new methods 
and new illuminations from later learning, and finally his pro- 
found philosophical writings, all conspire to assign him a place 
among the very leaders of contemporary thought. Accordingly, 
we look for hundreds of readers of his lecture on Experimental 
Psychology,t which has just been admirably translated by a 
professor in St. Bernard's, Rochester. To enlightened Catho- 
lics it has been a matter of great grief to read week after week 
and month after month, in publications supposed to reflect the 

^ La Magie Modeme ou I'Hypnotisme de nos jours traduit de I'ltalien de R. P. Pie- 
Michel Rolfi. O.F.M. Parl'Abbe H. Dorangeon. Paris: P. Ttfqui. 

t The Relation of Experimental Psychology to Philosophy. A lecture delivered before the 
Royal Belgian Academy l^ Mgr. Desire Mercier. Translated from the French by Rev. 
Kdmund J. Wirth, Ph.D., D.D. New York : Benziger Brothers, 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 259 

highest Catholic inteUigence, bitter attacks on physiological 
psychologry and all hapless students and teachers thereof. 
Who can recall without shame the headlong assault made 
against the Catholic University when it established a chair of 
this new science and invited an eminent young specialist to fill 
it ? It is indeed a relief to turn from these intemperate polemics 
to the words of a g^reat scholar like Mgr. Mercier. No sneers 
at modern learning from him; no outcry that the doctrine of 
the soul's immateriality is imperilled by a science which would 
submit the spiritual part of us to weights and measures, and 
would account for its activities in terms of physics, mechanics, 
and physiology. On the contrary, we have his reassuring 
declaration : " The researches of Experimental Psychology shake 
to their very foundations the claims of the English Association- 
istic school, and in this too it renders a great service to spirit- 
ualistic philosophy." We heartily recommend the little work. 
Never has the status of the new psychology been so clearly 
outlined; never has its relations to the world-old problems of 
all philosophy been more clearly indicated ; and never was some 
such essay more urgently needed in the Catholic class-room. 

6 — M. Torreilles has pubHshed within the compass of two 
hundred and eight pages a history of theology in France.* It 
is a vast subject indeed for so summary a treatment. From St. 
Anselm and Hugo of St. Victor to Lamennais and Olle- 
Laprune ; from the days of the University of Paris, when St. 
Thomas expounded the relations of reason and faith, to the 
little company at La Chenaie or in Pere Gratry's Oratory, who 
hoped to win back an erring age to the church, what a stretch 
of history and what a manifoldness of mighty events and sad 
vicissitudes ! The bitter contest between Aristotelianism and 
Platonism ; the turbulence of the Western Schism and of the 
• Lutheran revolt ; the fight over Gallicanism ; the unspeakably 
sad acrimoniousness of the controversy with Jansenism ; the 
glory of historical theology achieved by Petavius, Thomassinus, 
and the Benedictines of St. Maur; the eighteenth century con- 
flict with the encyclopediste and the rcvolutioiiaire ; and finally 
the present-day divisions in the schola theologorum as to proper 
methods in Scriptural, historical, philosophical, and theological 
studies — did a historian ever have for treatment a subject so 

^ Le Mowement Th^ologique en France drpuis scs ofigines Jusqua nos jours (IXe au A'Xe 
SiecU). Par Ph. Torreilles, profcsscur au Grand Seminairc de Perpignan. Paris: Letouzey 
et An^. 



26o Views and Reviews. [Nov., 

vast, so fascinating, and so difficult ? The very naming of these 
great problems and stirring epochs discloses the shortcomings 
inevitable in a manual like this of M. Torreilles. He has given 
us a very readable sketch. He has furnished us a stimulus to go 
deeper into the matter which he touches. He has even written 
a book which, so far as we know, is the very best of all intro- 
ductions to the history of theology in France. But the brevity 
of it has the danger of leaving readers who will study no fur- 
ther with an imperfect impression of men and of movements. 
And in history an imperfect impression is a false impression. 
Take M. Torreilles' treatment of Jansenism, for example. The 
idea left by the few pages given to this subject is simply that 
the Jansenists were semi- Protestants who covertly endeavored 
to destroy the Catholic religion ; who dishonestly tried to evade 
their condemnation by Rome ; who hounded maliciously the 
foremost champions of the church, and who consequently are 
deserving of universal execration. Now, we do not say that 
this is not true. But these few brusque statements are by no 
means adequate to express the history of that movement — a 
movement which was of amazing power; which threw the 
whole kingdom of France into turmoil ; and which was unhap- 
pily marked by acts of astounding meanness, deceit, and trick- 
ery — not all on the side of the Jansenists either, as witness the 
fabrications of the "false Arnauld," and of the "assembly at 
Bourgfontaine." Now, all these things have to be known, if we 
are to place in its proper light and to judge honestly this sad- 
dest spectacle, probably, in the domestic history of the Christian 
Church. So many half-views of this kind occur in this excel- 
lent manual that while we strongly advise our readers to peruse 
it, we nevertheless warn them that their notions will not be 
correct or true if they do not supplement the book with other 
treatises which are deeper and more complete. 

7. — Dr. Nicholas Gihr's Holy Sacrifice of the MasSy* which 
has just been translated into English, is a work of solid theo- 
logical erudition, and is rich in explanations of the holy sym- 
bolism surrounding the Central Mystery of our worship. We 
welcome the book heartily. It will do great good in bringing 
into the minds of the faithful a better understanding of the 
Real Presence — that August Source of love and praise which is 

* The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. By Dr. Nicholas Gihr. Translated from the sixth 
German Edition. St. Loui:^ : B. Herder. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 261 

so terribly unappreciated and so little known by the very wor- 
shippers at Its altar. Priests and people will be brought nearer 
to this Deus latitans from reading Dr. Gihr; for while it is of 
the theology and the liturgy of the Holy Sacrifice that he 
chiefly treats, and theology and liturgy are dry, nevertheless in 
no other mystery of religion are the conclusions of the doctors 
so near to the ardors of the saints. And consequently in its 
most scholastic pages there appears throughout this book a half- 
hidden stream of piety which makes the dry places fertile. 
However, despite this consideration, we cannot help expressing 
our regret that there are not more frequent gleams of imagina- 
tion and an occasional effort after elasticity and lightsomeness 
of style. Neither would we think it a loss if the immense size 
of the book had been reduced somewhat by judicious conden- 
sations. Still, our final verdict is that we have here a true, 
solid, spiritual work which will win new and more faithful wor- 
shippers to the altars of the Lord. 

8. — Father Henry has rendered a filial service to his spiritual 
Chief and conferred a benefit on elegant letters by his transla- 
tion of the poetical writings of Leo XHL* It is a book to 
fill with ecstasy the heart of the book-lover who has plighted 
his troth to the classic muse, and has kept his faith unshaken. 
In the first place, merely as a book, a thing of covers, leaves, 
and printed words, the volume is simply exquisite. Father 
Henry and all of us may feel glad and consider ourselves meri- 
torious of congratulation for being treated so royally by the 
Dolphin Press. May it do much of our printing ! In the second 
place, there are the poems of our marvellous Pope. Think of a 
collection of verse the first piece of which is dated 1822, and 
the last a reverie for Christmas Day a year ago ! Eighty 
years of graceful measures, most of them breathing out the 
prayers of a holy priest, the sadness of a great Pontiff who 
sees truth oppressed and virtue vanquished, and the reflections 
of a profound thinker confronted with the mysteries of life and 
death. In the third place are Father Henry's translations. 
These are of rare excellence. With a remarkable closeness 
both in form and in idea to the original, they possess a subtle 
ease, a graceful felicity, and an open freshness which are abso- 
lutely without a suggestion of the restraint 'and the toilsome- 

• Poems, Charades, Inscriptions of Pope Leo XI II. , including the revised Compositions of his 
early life in chronological order. With English translation and notes by H. T. Henry. New 
York and Philadelphia : The Dolphin Press. 



262 Views and reviews, [Nov., 

ness of a translation. See, for example, how difficult it appears 
to put these lines' into English verse : 

" Phantasia, Hlecebris effingens lubricamenti, 
Vere est tartarei, qui latet, anguis opus." 

Now observe how Father Henry has put music into them : 
" The flowery meads through which you pass 
In fancy, are but Hell's morass — 
A serpent hideth in the grass ! " 

Never we verily believe has a poetic version achieved more 
success than this English form of Leo's poems. Most heartily 
we commend it to the cultured. It is a thing of beauty and 
the flnest taste, and stirs in us an expectation of seeing work 
from Father Henry's pen which will win lasting renown. 

9. — The United States Catholic Historical Society is doing 
a good work in studying the history of the church in our 
country, and bringing to light the records of Catholics and the 
part they have played in the development of the nation. 

Charles Carroll of Carrollton has long been an object of 
the admiration of Catholics because of his staunch adherence 
to his religion and his devotion to the cause of independence. 

This volume* of his hitherto unpublished letters are of 
great interest and reveal the personality of the man. The let- 
ters of his father, Charles Carroll of Doughoregan, which are 
included in this volume, throw considerable light on the char- 
acter of his early training. 

The work is compiled and edited with a memoir by Thomas 
Meagher Field, and is embellished with a number of engravings. 

10. — We have reason to be grateful for the amount of litera- 
ture that is now at the command of ecclesiastical students and 
young priests dealing with subjects that must be of momentous 
interest to them. The scope of the present volume f has 
already been covered by Abbe Hogan's Clerical Studies, but 
the work of Dr. Franz Hettinger deserves to be read as well. 
The author was a priest of solid learning and piety, and conse- 
quently the Timotheus is full of suggestions of untold utility. 

There is reason to doubt the wisdom of the author in omit- 
ting a large part of the original. 

• Unpublished Letters of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, and of his Father, Charles Carroll 
of Doughoregan. Compiled and edited, wirli a memoir, by Thomas Meagher Field. New 
York: L'nited States Catholic Historical Society. 

t TimJthy ; or, Lctteis toa Yontij^ Thfolrg'.an. I3y Dr. Franz Hettinger. Translated and 
nri it»t*»ri i.y Rev. V^lcior Stcplca. St. Louis: B, Herder. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 263 

11. — Here is another volume* of Madajne Cecelia's confer- 
ences for girls. Like its predecessor, it is practical and dis- 
cusses such subjects as are necessary to the uplifting, socially 
and spiritually, of our girls. There are two parts, the first of 
which deals with Human Respect, Trifles, Correspondence, the 
Use of Money, the Care of Children, and other topics that concern 
the social side of a girl's life. The second is devoted to those 
things which aid in the development of the spiritual side — Self- 
denial, Occasions of Sin, Holiness, Piety, Purity of Intention, etc. 

The book is clearly written and is replete with examples and 
anecdotes. There is no one but will feel better for having read it. 

12. — The Convents of Great Britain \ is a hand-book to 
nearly one hundred different religious congregations of women 
in Great Britain. An interesting sketch is given of each ; so 
that, besides being a guide in the matter of vocation, the book 
possesses a considerable value as history. The perusal of the 
book leads us to hope that a similar directory for the con- 
vents of America will be compiled. 

13. — Canon Smith's book t is a spiritual guide for altar boys, 
and is intended to inspire in them a right appreciation of their 
privilege in serving at the altar of the Most High. It is meant 
also to offer the boys an incentive to persevere in after years in 
the spirit of devotion thus enkindled. Its simplicity of style is 
very suitable to the greater number of altar boys, who probably 
would have no relish for elaborately written books. It possesses 
spiritual value and altar boys will do well to profit by be- 
coming familiar with its contents. Directors of altar boys* so- 
cieties would do well to place Canon Smith's book in the hands 
of their boys. 

14. — Of late the church has been enriched by the publication 
of many valuable books of sermons, the Irish clergy being 
among the foremost contributors to this list. Dr. Sheehan's 
Corona Marice is now followed by a volume of discourses, doc- 
trinal and moral, delivered by the Most Rev. Archbishop of 
Tuarn.^ It consists of twenty- five sermons, covering the principal 
feasts and the Sundays of the year. The matter of these ser- 

^ More Homt Truths for Mary s Children, By Madame Cecelia. New York, Cincinnati, 
Chicago: Benziger Brothers. 

t Th€ Convents of Great Britain. By Francesca M. Steele. With a preface by Father 
Thurston, S.J. St. Louis : B. Herder. 

X The Altar Boy s Own Booh. By Rev. W. M. Smith. New York : Benziger Brothers. 

% Discourses^ Doctrinal and Moral. By the Most Rev. Dr. ^!acI^villy, .\rchbishop of Tuam 
DubliD ; M. H. Gill & Son ; New York : Benziger Brothers. 



264 Views and reviews. [Nov., 

mons ii of a high ojrder, accurate in statement and practical in 
application. One excellent feature about them is the apt and 
abundant quotations from Holy Scripture, adding strength and 
ornament. Besides being of inestimable value to the clergy, 
the book may well be used as spiritual reading by the Catho- 
lic laity. 

15. — ^Teachers in country schools who have found the geo- 
graphies too technical and too scientific on the physiographic 
side of the subject will welcome the two books • before us. The 
Elementary Geography offers sufficient pedagogical material to 
suit the needs of those grades in which the subject is first 
taught — and not too much. Its simplicity and brevity will prove 
attractive, while the adequacy of treatment of the elementary 
principles, and the volume of information, afford a complete 
introduction for more advanced work. 

The Complete Geography accords full recognition to the impor- 
tance of the commercial and business side of the subject, though 
this practical and useful information is united with enough of the 
new and scientific side to enlighten the whole study. The maps 
show the principal railroads and canals, as well as the head of 
navigation on all important rivers. The descriptions of the 
political, industrial, and social features of the various countries 
have been made very full. 

In each book the physical maps of the co-ordinate divisions 
are drawn on the same scale, thus enabling pupils to compare 
accurately the relative size of countries. The political and more 
detailed maps are full enough to serve all ordinary purposes 
for reference. After each map are given carefully prepared 
questions, directing the attention to the most important and 
essential features, so that power in map reading and map inter- 
pretation may be developed and alternated. 

16 — Father Lescher's volume t is a defence of the tradition 
which names St. Dominic as the founder of tlie Rosary, and 
which has been attacked publicly during the pontificate of Leo 
XIII. The matter has previously been published in large part, 
but the author feels justified in putting it before the public in 
view of the fact that no answer to the arguments advanced has 
been attempted, and although not all the evidence in favor of 

* Elementary Geo^^raphy ; Complete Geography. By H. Justin Roddy. New York, Cin- 
cinnati, Cliicat^o : American Book Company. 

\ St. Dominic and the Rosary, By Wilfrid Leschcr, O.P. New York, Cincinnati, and 
Cliica«;o : Hcnzigcr Brothers. 



I902.] Views and Reviews, 265 

the tradition is presented, he thinks that the objections raised 
have been answered so far as they are capable of being 
answered ; " that is, so far as they rest upon legitimate de- 
duction and upon fact, and not upon surmise and baseless 
conjecture." 

17. — Unto tlu End* is the story of a young woman, the 
daughter of a country parson, who marries a man intensely 
worldly, but whom the girl believes to be honest and sincere. 
The son of a morally weak and over-indulgent mother, he is 
utterly without conscience. Through the great flood of bills 
that come to the house the young wife finds that they have 
been living far beyond their means. To her remonstrances the 
husband answers : '' For a few weeks we might live as people 
of our cultivation would be expected to live." This husband, 
like Mr. Micawber, is always waiting for something to turn up. 
The something comes right side up in the shape of a legacy 
from a rich uncle. But the husband again finds himself in dif- 
ficulties when he plans the marriage of his daughter. He wants 
her to marry a rich young man. She determines to marry a 
'* poor but honorable " doctor. Her father then very foolishly 
but obligingly commits suicide. The widow, of course, opens a 
boarding-house and pays off all her debts. Her daughter mar- 
ries the doctor, and she herself a former admirer. The plot 
may interest some readers, but the tale lacks much in moral 
tone and literary freshness. 

18* — ^The Faith of Old England \ is a brief, logical, and 
convincing demonstration that the faith which existed in Eng- 
land prior to 1534 differed essentially from what is believed in 
the Church of England of the present day. The author cites 
abundant historical evidence that Englishmen preferred the 
*' Old Faith," and acknowledged the supremacy of the popes 
until the reign of Henry VHI. 

He shows " how it came about that England was forced in- 
to schism, and how, as a nation, she fell away from the truth." 
The Anglican " branch " theory is taken up, and shown to be 
untenable, and the schismatic nature of the Anglican Church — 
both High and Low— clearly established. The latter part of 
the book is devoted to a brief exposition of some of the prin- 

• Unto the End. By Mrs. R. G. Aldcn. Boston : Lothrop Publishing Company. 

t The Faith of Old England. A popular manual of instructions in the Catholic Faith from 
a doctrinal and historical stand-point. By the Rev. Vincent Hornyold, S.J. London ; Catho- 
lic Truth Society ; New York : Benziger Brothers. 



266 Views and Reviews. [Nov., 

cipal doctrines and practices of the Catholic Church. The great 
amount of historical evidence condensed in small space, together 
with the kindly spirit, should merit a large circulation for this 
really valuable little contribution to apologetic literature. 

19 — Of the sermons we hear to-day many treat of sub- 
jects theoretical rather than practical, civil rather than religious, 
and many are wanting in the unction of the Holy Spirit. It 
was this condition of things that led the Holy Father to issue 
his Encyclical Letter on Preaching, in which he says: "Several 
grave abuses have been introduced in the manner of announc- 
ing the Word of God, which frequently render preaching con- 
temptible, or at least sterile and unprofitable." It is for the 
same reason that we recommend Instructions on Preaching* to 
all those whose office and duty it is to preach the Word of God 
to the faithful and to instruct converts. This little volume con- 
tains thoughts on preaching and on the virtues of the clerical 
state penned by .men whose sanctity, learning, and practical 
experience entitled them to speak with authority. In the 
treatise by St. Francis Borgia the soundest principles of rhetoric 
are inculcated, and the sacred character of preaching is empha- 
sized. St. Francis de Sales and St. Vincent de Paul show how 
to collect matter, how to form a plan, and how to deliver a 
sermon. The hints contained in these two letters will bear care- 
ful attention and study. The letter of the Congregation of 
Bishops and Regulars on preaching, composed by order of His 
Holiness Pope Leo XIII., is also to be found here, and it con- 
tains principles capable of universal application. The latter half 
of the •' Instructions ** comprises a translation of St. Augustine's 
De Catechizandis Rudibus, in which the saint teaches how con- 
verts are to be received and instructed ; and a treatise of St. 
Jerome on The Virtues of the Clerical State. These instructions 
and letters make up a volume timely and deserving of a wide 
circle of friends among the English-speaking clergy and eccle- 
siastical students. 

20. — A very handy volume f particularly suited for the young, 
both boys and girls. Together with the usual prayers, there is 
much of practical instruction. It embraces prayers to those 
saints who particularly appeal to youth. 

* Instructions on Preachinir, Catechizing'-^ and Clerical Life, by Saints and Fathers of the 
Church. Translated by Rev. Patrick Hoyle, CM. New York: Hcnziger Brothers. 
\ Instructions and Prayers for Ctifholic Youth. New York : Bonziger Brothers. 



I902.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS, 267 

This hand-book • contains particular prayers for a novena, 
salutations, and a litany to St. Anthopy of Padua. At the end 
is a manner of hearing Mass in honor of the Holy Trinity. The 
Holy Trinity will be most pleased if we adhere, in as much as 
we can, to the ritual prayers. 



I. — A REMARKABLE ENCYCLOPEDIA. f 

The house of Retaux in Paris has recently brought out an 
encyclopaedic work which, even in an age of encyclopaedias, 
deserves a special recognition and achieves a unique distinction. 
It is a history of the religious beliefs and social customs, of the 
political peculiarities and moral standards, of the eccentric devo- 
tions and the devout eccentricities of nearly every people under 
the sun — both in past and present time. As a plan of con- 
struction it follows the Decalogue. Thus, under the first com- 
mandment it gives a history of belief in and worship of God, 
and an account of savage rites and Christian formularies. Under 
the fourth commandment it describes the various marriage 
ceremonies and domestic usages observed among men and re- 
corded by historians. In fact, whatever the commandments sug- 
gest in any way finds a place — duelling, human sacrifices, 
slavery, ordeals, suicide, drunkenness — these and literally a 
hundred other subjects are treated with a great wealth of out- 
of the-way learning and an immense fund of anecdote. Here 
and there, too, are little treatises in Christian apologetics which 
really are valuable. In this latter field the treatment is not 
exhaustive, as we hardly need to remark. Nevertheless it is 
good and practical and edifying. The style of the book is ex- 
cellent. The narratives are grouped in a way that recalls the 
studied effectiveness of a drama ; the anecdotes are served a la 
Frangaise — to say which is praise sufficient; and the historical 
portions are presented in a lively, energetic manner which 
arouses and sustains a keen interest throughout. We thoroughly 
enjoyed the book — the first time in our lives we have used such 
a phrase with regard to an encyclopaedia — and we promise any 
readers who will procure it many an hour of fruitful browsing 
and curious entertainment. 

• Tht Little Afanuai of St. Anthony of Padua. Compiled by Rev. F. X. Lasance. New 
York : Benziger Brothers. 

\HiHoin <Us CroyanteSt St^erstithns, Mcturs, Usages, et Coutumes, selon U plan du 

Decalogue. Par Fernand Nicolay. 3r&me Itdition. Paris : Victor Retaux. 3 vols. 



268 Views and Reviews. [Nov., 

2. — BISHOP SPALDING'S LATEST BOOK. 

The well-known characteristics of Bishop Spalding's writings 
are seen in their finest manner in his latest work.* His funda- 
mental doctrine of the supreme value of life, of knowledge, and 
of love; his clear tones of insistence upon the necessity of a 
God and a hereafter, if existence is to have any purpose and 
moral beauty any value; his energetic hopefulness that as 
" God 's in His Heaven, all 's right with the world " ; his en- 
thusiastic welcome to all that his age brings forward of pro- 
gress, of civilization, and of science; his high ideals of educa- 
tion and of the teacher's vocation ; his combination of high 
culture and impulsive sympathy; his sharp, pure, inspiriting 
style; all, in fact, that the whole world now knows as con- 
stitutive of the Bishop's thought and utterance is displayed 
in this volume in a degree of perfection which in our judg- 
ment is the highest he has yet attained. Certainly in no 
previous work of his have we felt ourselves carried higher in 
the region of fellowship with God than in the first essay of 
the present volume. '* Religion " is the title of this essay ; and 
there are passages in it which suggest a rare union of Jean 
Paul's mysticism, Cardinal Newman's preternatural insight, and 
Pascal's raisons du cceiir. Sentence follows sentence, paragraph 
succeeds paragraph in one great accumulation of terse, aphoris- 
tic pieces of eloquent writing on the necessity for God as our 
infinite Ground of morality and our eternal Destiny of knowl- 
edge and love, until one sees all haunting doubts as to the 
pricelessness of the human soul and the superintending Provi- 
dence of God vanish utterly away, and one stands confronted 
with ideals of mind and heart which glow with the splendors of 
divinity. A more persuasively eloquent essay we do not re- 
member ever to have read. 

In his two chapters on Agnosticism Bishop Spalding gives 
us a fine type of philosophical polemic. A spirit of candor 
and moderation pervades the criticisms passed on Herbert 
Spencer's philosophy and disarms the objection that as a bishop 
the author must sustain one side of the question perforce. The 
discussion bears all the marks of a thoughtful man's unprejudiced 
reflections; and this quality alone will win for this book many 
scores of readers. The main points of the Bishop's contention 

^ Religion, Agnostii ism, and F.ducatioti. By J. L. Si)alding, Bishop of Peoria. Chicago; 
A. C. McClurg & Co. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 269 

against Agnosticism are the grounds familiarly taken by our 
best apologists. In a rapid review of philosophy since Descartes 
it is shown how largely the position of Agnosticism rests 
ultimately in epistemology. The denial of our possibility to 
know God and the soul is only a step from the denial of our 
possibility to know things, as distinct from thoughts. Agnosti- 
cism, so far as it bears on religion, was already born into the 
world when the idealistic dictum was first proclaimed, that 
cognition is only of states of consciousness, and involves no 
implications of an objective real world. The Bishop is very 
keen in showing the historic inconsistency of Agnosticism in 
bringing back an objective real world as implied in knowledge, 
because physical science, that idol from which issue masterful 
commands, cannot possibly do without external reality ; but in 
refusing to bring back God, and the whole transcendental order 
of ultimate truths. For if we are forced to admit objective 
reality as a ground of our cognitive experiences, far more 
urgently are we forced to admit God as a ground of the whole 
sum of experiences, and very particularly as a ground of our 
spiritual experiences. We are impelled to an act of faith in 
God as logically and inevitably as to an act of faith in the ex- 
istence of things. Agnostics make the first and shrink from the 
second. How Mr. Spencer's Unknowable is also the Incredible, 
the vacant void of a great abstraction, and how this creed of 
nescience robs life of all that makes it worth living, the Bishop 
penetratingly prov(*s. In this latter point Bishop Spalding writes 
with unsurpassed felicity and force. He places our human 
dignity so high, he estimates our affections and aspirations as 
of so great a value, that his argument goes straight and strong 
to head and heart. This is apparent too in the last three 
essays of this volume ; essays concerned with education and 
that higher life about which the prelate of Peoria has already 
told us so much. On every thoughtful man this book is fitted 
to confer a great and sacred help. The educated laity will 
learn here much of the world's highest currents of thought ; 
and priests will find, as it were, a fresh breeze blown upon 
many withered pages of their books of theology, making arid 
places gladsome and inviting. 



ai 4^ ai Xibtatie tTable. » » » 



The Tablet (6 Sept.): Publishes a long extract from Sir Joshua 
Fitch's introduction to the report on American systems 
of instruction, presented to Parliament by the English 
Board of Education. Sir Joshua notes that there is no 
national system of education in America, and that 
although the Bureau of Education has great moral au- 
thority, it has not statutory power. In large cities, New 
York, Boston, Philadelphia, etc., there is generous pro- 
vision of public funds and institutions are often on a 
magnificent scale, but there are large districts where 
schools are inadequate and opened only for a short term 
during the year, and where the teachers' pay is mea- 
gre. He lays stress on the fact that although there is 
no uniformity in methods, local patriotism makes each 
community proud of its institutions and solicitous to 
produce such examples of good work as may prove 
worthy of imitation in other States and cities. The 
pioneers and leaders have been men of originally local 
reputation or influence. He says no feature is more re- 
markable than the large share of the work undertaken 
by women, and says further, that the topics discussed on 
this side, e,g,^ the place of Latin and Greek, and elective 
system in higher schools, are of grave importance to the 
English teacher who wishes to understand the work of 
the future and to have an honorable share in it. 
(13 Sept.): Gives an extract from the report before 
mentioned, indicating the relations between the school 
and the community. 

(27 Sept.): Publishes a verbatim report of the principal 
papers read at the Catholic Conference at Newport. The 
Inaugural Address by the Bishop of Newport was on 
Catholics and the Modern Press. In it the bishop says 
that the only way to neutralize the modern press is to 
work a rival press, utilizing Catholic talent, now either 
going to waste or already in the service of what on the 
whole must be called a hostile press. There are obsta- 
cles — e.g,y the Catholic press cannot be unscrupulous. 



I902.] Library Table. 271 

Again, if it is political, Catholics of opposite opinions 
will be apt to look on it with dislike and suspicion, 
while if it kept clear of politics it would sacrifice one of 
the features that always makes a paper interesting. The 
Catholic body is well organized ; therefore the Catholic 
press can be widely distributed. But the reading offered 
to the people must be good, and Catholics who aspire 
to guide the production of Catholic literature should 
cultivate an enlightened fastidiousness, and this implies a 
high degree of education. Catholics, even under present 
conditions, are not doing what might be done. Suppos- 
ing equality in literary power, news, and general con- 
tents with the secular press, a Catholic daily would num- 
ber among its advantages: a true statement of informa- 
tion touching things Catholic, a Catholic version of 
"scandals'' and histories tending to injure Catholicism, 
prompt refutation of lies and slanders, etc. The bishop 
thinks it strange that American Catholicism, to whom 
Englishmen are accustomed to look for lead in everything 
that requires pluck and skill, has not yet a daily paper. 
T/ic Month (Oct.) : Virginia M. Crawford, in an article on Some 
Aspects of Charity in Canada, writes on the excellent 
work done by the Gray Nuns. She says it is most re- 
markable that " neither differences of race, nor of creed, 
nor of language have been deep enough . to prevent the 
heterogeneous elements of which Canada is composed 
from welding into a homogeneous whole, at once loyal 
to England and intensely proud of its own national life." 
Mr. Britten, writing on Boy-Savers, says of the two pam- 
phlets of "The Boy-Savers" Series, from the pen of 
Rev. George E. Quin, S.J., of New York : *' So far as I 
know, we have nothing in Catholic literature so inform- 
ing, so full of practical suggestions, so wide in sympathy, 
. . . the first of which was recommended by Cardinal 
Vaughan to his clergy assembled in synod." G. J. 
Pfaehler inquires how it is that in Rome, the very cen- 
tre of the West, the institution of the chief feasts 
in honor of the Blessed Virgin is represented by 
Duchesne as probably not occurring until the seventh 
century, while the Eastern people were ahead of the West- 
ern in devotion to Our Lady ? Fr. John Rickaby criticises 

VOU LXXVI.— 18 



^72 Library Table, [Nov., 

the Symposium on the Atonement which appeared in 
tbe Christian World during the winter of 1 899-1 900. 

7Iu Critical Revitw (Sept.): Rev. C. H. Wheeler Robinson re- 
views Prof. James's Varieties of Religious Experience^ 
which, he says, is vastly superior to all similar attempts 
at an anthropological treatment of religious phenomena. 
This is due to the fact that the author treats only of 
acknowledged types of high personal piety, and dra^s 
his examples chiefly from Christian experience. "There 
is/' writes the reviewer, " undoubted philosophic signifi- 
cance in the volume, as the argument of a scientist 
claiming the freedom of faith from the tyranny of the 
conclusions of many present-day scientists." Its value as 
a philosophical contribution lies, he thinks, "in the attempt 
to meet a naturalistic empiricism by empiricist methods." 

International Journal of Ethics (July): Mr. John Martin con- 
tributes a timely article on the Social Value of Trades- 
Unionism. In the United States, the writer states, there 
are one million and a half of trades- unionists. He dis- 
cusses how loyalty to the union affects the morality of 
the members and the relation between trades- union 
principles and the well-being of the state. Mr. Alfred 
H. Lloyd contributes a most exceptional and praise- 
worthy paper in defence of the Cloister Schools and of 
Scholasticism. We would like to reprint it here in full. 
The principle of the schools was Credo ut intelligam. 
Study Scholasticism with an open mind and some sense 
of the conditions of its time, and you will find in it 
human life and passion, and expression of the freedom 
of the human spirit. Modern science grew up as a ful- 
filment of that "dark, church- ridden, phrase- bound " 
thinking of the Scholastics. 

(Oct.) : Mr. Waldo L. Cook writes on " Criticism of 
Public Men.** He contends that a double standard of 
morality — private and public — has been and is characteris- 
tic of statesmen. Critics should judge them fearlessly 
from the point of view of the higher and nobler standard. 
Mr» William Douglass Morrison writes on the treat- 
ment of the criminal in England. He takes exception to 
certain articles of a late assistant commissioner of police 
for London who demanded greater rigor and severity in 



I902.] Library Table. 273 

the treatment of criminals. Society, he maintains, is much 
less menaced by the habitual criminal now than it was 
three-quarters of a century ago. He discusses improve- 
ment in prison laws, wants juveniles prevented from mix- 
ing with professionals, and demands the complete indus- 
trialization of prison treatment. 

The Monist (July) : The editor, Dr. Paul Carus, in an article 
on theology as a science, gives his idea of " the new 
theology." It is a new science. Its roots lie partly in 
philosophy, partly in a scientific treatment of history, 
partly in ethics, partly in an application of art, and 
partly also in poetry and belles-lettres. 

Rivue du Clcrge Fran fats (i Sept.): P. Mallet traces the pre- 
vailing dispute about apologetical methods to the fact 
that one party is considering the theoretical reasons which 
justify belief, while the other party is considering the real 
causes of conversion. 

(15 Sept): P. Urbain extracts from the autobiographical 
notes of Jacques Benigne Winslow an interesting account 
of his conversion by Bossuet. P. Gazagnol analyzes Prof. 
Ehrhard's now famous book on Catholicism and the 
Twentieth Century^ and quotes many favorable notices 
of the volume, thus offsetting the attacks which are also 
mentioned. The reviewer believes that Ehrhard's book 
will do great good, and pleads for more sympathy with 
the modern world. " Let us not, like the elder son in the 
Gospel, obstinately refuse to enter into the house because 
the prodigal has returned there." 

Detnocratie Chretienne (Sept.) : Presents a plea from the Comte 
de Mun for an organized Catholic social movement by 
institutions and periodicals. Theologus describes St. 
Thomas's notion of the supernatural love of one's neigh- 
bor, and says that the sense of solidarity can never re- 
place supernatural charity. H. du Sart sketches the life 
and works of Karl Marx and exposes his system of eco- 
nomic materialism. S. writes that Spain, like France and 
Italy, has learned the beginning of wisdom by a whole- 
some fear of false Liberalism and Freemasonry. 

La Quinzaine (i Sept.) : P. Urbain contributes a review of Abbe 
Cagnac's late volume : Finelon^ Directeur de Conscience, 
He praises the work very highly and welcomes it as an 



2 74 Library Table. [Nov., 

excellent answer to Fenelon's critics. He suggests an ex- 
tension of the history of spiritual direction which M. 
Cagnac limited to the times of the early Fathers. He 
objects to M. Cagnac's statement that the religious at 
Port Royal went to Holy Communion but once a year; 
for the Constitutions prescribe Holy Communion for all 
Sundays and feast-days, and urged that at every Mass at 
least some of the religious should approach the Holy 
Table. He quotes instances of spiritual direction in the 
seventeenth century, and contributes a lengthy apology 
for Fenelon, founded on his correspondence. 
(i6 Sept): P. Ermoni contributes an article on the re- 
lations between philosophy and dogma, and after an open- 
ing word on the history of the discussion, shows that 
philosophy is the foundation of dogma, that it explains 
and systematizes dogma, as illustrated in Augustine's 
works ; thirdly, that it is the defender of dogma. Dog- 
ma, on the other hand, has contributed most important 
services to reason. It has not enslaved nor oppressed 
the rational faculties, but enlarged indefinitely the sphere of 
rational research and preserved right reasoning among men. 
£,ttides (5 Sept.) : P. Longhaye gives a review of P. Lecanult's 
Montalembert (vol. iii.) It includes the years 1850-1870, 
and deals particularly with Montalembert's relations to 
the political history of France during that period. 

Pj Brucker, in an article on the reform of seminary 
education, speaks particularly about biblical criticism and 
the science of history. He gives much praise to Abbe 
Hogan's volume. Clerical StudieSy but complains of its 
"indefiniteness." He takes exception to the programme 
given by Mgr. Le Camus, and favors the scholastic 
rather than the positive method of theological training. 
He maintains that the scholastic method is more com- 
prehensive, more efficacious, more educational. The 
author also makes a plea for reform in the teaching of 
morals, maintaining that it should not be lowered, as it is 
so often, to the level of mere casuistry. Here again excep- 
tion is taken to some points in Abbe Hogan*s book. 
(20 Sept.) : P. Brucker's paper concluded. Two years 
at least ought to be devoted to philosophy. The scho- 
lastic method should be followed. The professor should 



I902.] Library Table, 275 

give them the essential features of modern systems. As 
. regards Holy Scripture, that, in the eyes of the Society 
of Jesus, is the "soul of true theology." It should not 
be studied until one has begun his theology. Every 
Jesuit novice is required to read the entire Bible at least 
once. It is not all explained in class, however. Special 
importance should be given to the study of such pas- 
sages as support dogmas. The time in the seminary is 
best spent in the explanation and understanding of the 
literal sense, useful in preaching. Modern difficulties of 
criticism are too numerous and too varied to be con- 
sidered by young theologians. 

History is of secondary importance where the scho- 
lastic method is followed, and too much time ought not 
be given it. The same is true of Patristics, for students* 
minds are not unlimited. He makes an earnest plea for 
the teaching of natural sciences during the two years of 
philosophy, because of the special needs of the time. 
The reason of the non- advancement of the clergy, secu- 
lar and religious, has been in great measure the lack of 
funds. But at least they should now strive to hold an 
eminent place in the foremost ranks. This, however, is 
not to come from the introduction of scientific courses in 
seminaries. Catholic universities and analogous institu- 
tions are our hope in this matter. Scientific apology 
has its value, but it ought not to be exaggerated. 

Revue (VHistoire et de Litterature Religieuses (July-August) : P. 
Turmel discusses the history of the dogma of the Fall in 
the post-Augustinian period. Among the curious specula- 
tions of theologians he declares that all the doctors from 
the fifth century held to the physical existence of a Gar- 
den of Eden, but were at wide differences of view as to 
where to locate it. Peter Lombard said it lay where the 
earth touched the sky. Albert the Great and St. Bona- 
venture affirmed that it was situated at the equator. St. 
Thomas proclaimed that wherever the Garden might be, it 
was surrounded by a wall of fire shielding it from human 
sight. It is a striking chapter in the history of theological 
opinion — that which tells of the momentous effect of 
science and geographical discovery on ideas like these. 

Revue Ginerale (Sept.) : W. Jos. W^lot sketches the career of 



2 76 Library Table. [Nov. 

the Romans in Spain, from Scipio, the African, to Galba. 
We get a glimpse of the sites selected by the sturdy 
conquerors for their cities, traces of which still exist. 

W. H. Primbault in his reflections on "France at the 
Present Day " touches on political questions. The present 
form of government is made responsible for the material 
prosperity which France now enjoys. Yet the country 
is being depopulated, and Rousseau himself states that a 
marked decrease in population is the surest sign of a 
defective government. The writer laments the gross 
pessimism which is becoming apparent among all classes 
of society. " For the relief of our country we rely 
neither on an emperor, nor on a king, not even on the 
ideal republic, nor on collectivism." " Universal suffrage" 
is no great boon. At the last election only forty-five 
per cent, of the voters responded to the call. The 
** plural " and obligatory vote in vogue in Belgium is 
" more logical, more natural, and more scientific." Nelson 
and Wellington did less harm to France than did the 
false philosophy imported from England. 

Rassegna Nazionale (i6 Sept.): F. Vitelleschi, continuing his 
study of the religious history of the Latin peoples, comes 
to the sixteenth century and says that the needed reform 
neglected by those above was undertaken by those below, 
(i Oct.) : Anna Evangelisti contributes a study of Fetronius 
Arbiter and of his treatment in Quo Vadis, which *' lacks 
fineness and depth both from the psychological and the 
historical stand-point. G. Lanzalone protests against the 
invasion by pornography of the whole field of art, 
anthropology, criminology, hygiene, criticism, politics, and 
religion." Italy will end by becoming " a pornographic 
manifestation." Maxima dcbetur puris reverentia ; writers 
seem to forget this. 

Instritccion Primaria (Aug.) : This new fortnightly review, pub- 
lished by the Cuban Board of Public Instruction, and 
edited by Dr. Lincoln de Zayas, presents several useful 
and interesting features, including a description of edu- 
cation in Cuba during the sixteenth century, a discus- 
sion of the training of the memory, reports on teachers' 
examinations, and notes upon methods used in mathe- 
matics and linguistics. 



4 Comment on Current tlopics, 4 



It is to the credit of the President that he 
The FiouB Fxind was the first to put into operation the ma- 

of California. chinery of the International Court of Arbi- 
tration at The Hague, and it is a source of 
satisfaction to Catholics that the first dispute that was settled 
amicably was the contention concerning the Pious Fund be- 
tween the Republic of Mexico and a notable body of citizens 
in California, represented by Archbishop Riordan. Baron van 
Lijnden, the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Holland, presided 
over the court The case grew out of the seizure by Mexico 
of the fund that was set aside for the betterment of the people 
of California. The Mexican contention was that it being a 
private claim of the Archbishop of San Francisco against the 
Mexican government, it was not a fit matter for international 
arbitration. Moreover, the right of disposing of the claim be- 
longed to the King of Spain and not to the Archbishop, and 
whatever responsibility there was for this fund was terminated 
by the Treaty of Guadalupe in 1848. The reply of Mr. Gar- 
rett McEnerney, representing Archbishop Riordan, submitted 
that from 1679 until the cession of California by the Treaty of 
Guadalupe, Mexico recognized that the fund belonged to Cali- 
fornia, and that this practical recognition answered all the 
arguments offered by the counsel of Mexico. 

The latest telegraphic despatches indicate that the court has 
made its decision in favor of Archbishop Riordan, and has 
awarded $1,420,682 in Mexican money to the Archbishop, to- 
gether with an annual interest of $43,051. This sum will be 
divided among the three dioceses of California. 

The Friars have found one who is willing 

The Philippine to tell the whole truth concerning their life 

Friars. and administration of ecclesiastical affairs in 

the person of Stephen Bonsai, the well- 
known correspondent of the New York Herald in the East. 
Bonsai is not a Catholic, nor has he by birth, education, or 
training or profession, been led to be partial to the Catholic 
side. His testimony is for this reason all the more valuable. 
His article on " The Work of the Friars " is published in the 



278 Comment on Current Topics. [Nov., 

North American Review for October. The entire article de- 
serves attentive perusal. Bonsai says in regard to the genesis 
of the monastic estates that in teaching the nomadic native the 
art of husbandry it was necessary to establish a model farm. 
The original nucleus has since been increased by purchase and 
largely by bequest ; yet far from comprising the greater portion 
of the best lands in the islands, as has been asserted, the 
monastic estates amount to less than one-hundredth part of the 
land under cultivation, and less than one five- thousandth part 
of the land that might be cultivated. Moreover, the staple 
products of the islands to-day which are their most valuable 
assets were introduced by the Friars. The statement and statis- 
tics concerning education are particularly strong. The Manila 
University was founded in 1620, the year the Pilgrim Fathers 
landed at Plymouth Rock, and it has matriculated more students 
than have been entered at Harvard. In 1863 legislation un- 
favorable to the monastic control of primary education was en- 
acted, and since then a generation has grown up practically 
illiterate. 

Bonsai g^ves some quotations from the memorials left by re- 
tiring governor- generals for the guidance of their successors. 
These memorials were in the nature of suggestions and advice, 
the outcome of the experience acquired, and were not intended 
for publication. General Don Jos^ de la Gandara says: 
** Government would be impossible were it not for the twenty 
or thirty friars living in their respective parishes who educate 
the natives, guide, discipline, and control them. In the day 
of danger and emergency they are absolutely indispensable." 
It may come that the American government will find them use- 
ful and probably indispensable. Bonsai's article deserves care- 
ful perusal. 

At the opening of the new Protestant Epis- 
Dr. Christian's copal Church of St. Ignatius, in New York 

Bermozi a City, the sermon was preached by Rev. Dr. 

George M. Christian, the rector of the 
Church of St. Mary the Virgin, a gentleman of character, dig- 
nity, and position among his people. An extract from his ser- 
mon, evidently made public by himself, is as follows, referring 
to the opening of the wells by Isaac : 

"We are here to-day," he said, "to emphasize the fact that 
this church is a part of the Catholic -Church and not a part of 



igo2.] Comment on Current Topics, 279 

the Protestant sect, never intended to be and never to be. 
The priests of the church for the past fifty years have been 
cleaning out the wells. Do not let the wells fill up again with 
rubbish and prejudice. This is the church of the worshippers 
in the Catacombs and through the Middle Ages to to-day. It 
is the church authorized by Christ, through St. Peter. It is 
one of the wells of truth again open. 

"Another is the right of the priest to grant, through the 
confessional, absolution according to the warrant of the Gospels. 
There is no man who has not longed for this right, and no 
woman who has not equally longed for the forgiveness of sins 
through absolution. It is the penitential well that has been 
opened and cleared of prejudice, and therefore we have our 
confessionals. 

"Another well cleared and clean is the regard for the Holy 
Communion. We all know that it was thought proper to offer 
communion two or three times a year for our spiritual suste- 
nance, and it is not so long ago that once a month was an in- 
novation to many. Now the priest stands ready always to 
give communion to the repentant'* 

This statement is the best commentary on the Anglican 
position. How such a church, repudiating Protestantism, can 
afHliate with the sect whose official title is the Protestant 
Episcopal Church in the United States of America, is a mys- 
tery ; and, on the other hand, how such a church can be iden- 
tical with the church of the Catacombs and yet reject the 
supremacy of St. Peter and his successors, is equally mysterious. 

The President has rendered a signal service 
Judge James ^o good government in the Philippines by 

m?nVto\f iSup." ^*^® appointment of Judge Smith to the 
pine CommiBsion. place on the Philippine Commission made 

vacant by the resignation of Hon. Bernard 
Moses. Judge James Smith is an excellent lawyer, and is 
thoroughly conversant with the conditions that obtain in the 
islands. Leaving an enviable prospect in the law behind him 
in San Francisco, he went as colonel of the First California 
Volunteers to the Philippines when the war broke out. His 
career as a fighter was marked by bravery and courage. When 
the war was over and his regiment returned home, he stayed as 
governor of the Island of Negros, which he succeeded in 



28o Comment on Current Topics. [Nov., 

pacifying earlier than any of the other islands. He was called 
to Manila and made collector of the port. The responsibility 
of organizing the custom-house, and thus securing revenue for 
the management of the islands, fell to him. Later on, when the 
Supreme Court of the islands was instituted, he was called by 
Judge Taft to be one of the associate justices. When the Taft 
Commission was sent to Rome Judge Smith was selected to be 
one of its members, and now on his return to Manila he has 
been made one of the five Commissioners in whose hands is the 
welfare of the people of the Philippines. Judge Smith's sterl- 
ing qualities of manhood and intelligence have won for him 
this remarkable distinction. With all this he is a devout Catho- 
lic, a member of the church militant, and ready at all times to 
serve the highejt interests of his conscience, his church, and his 
country. 

By the appointment of Judge Smith to the Philippine Com- 
mission the President has shown his desire to meet the de- 
mands of the Catholic people. It is evidence also of his good 
judgment in selecting one who can understand the religious 
sentiments of a Catholic people where questions that vitally con- 
cern their religious status are constantly coming up for adju- 
dication. 

There are two deplorable evils which are so 
Divorce and prevalent in the United States that they 

give our country an unenviable notoncty. 
They are Divorce and Drunkenness. They are both so alarm- 
ing in their nature and in their direful results as to make all 
who are zealous for their country's welfare tremble for the 
future. They both assail with peculiar malignity the homes of 
the land, and so much of our progress and prosperity depend 
on a healthy home life that if it be weakened fatal results will 
follow. A concerted effort is being made just now by the 
ablest newspapers of the land to stimulate the public conscience 
in regard to both these evils and arouse the people to the 
danger that besets our commonwealth. It is peculiarly desira- 
ble in the discussion of both these topics to have the Catholic 
position affirmed. On the question of Temperance nothing has 
done so much to alienate the best sentiment of the country as 
the intemperate statements of its advocates; and so with Di- 
vorce. The only sane, conservative position on both these 
questions is the Catholic position. The makers of public opinion 



1 902 . ] Comment on Current Topics, 2 8 1 

among Catholics would do well to seek the opportunity to re- 
affirm Catholic sentiment on both these vital questions. 

There has been no report made public as 
Beligioua Census ^^ ^^^^ ^^it Census Bureau concerning the 

of 1900. ,. . . ^. r .1- X T5 l7 a.- 

religious statistics of the country. Bulletins 
have been sent out on every other conceivable topic, but noth- 
ing on so vital a topic as the comparative study of the growth 
of religious denominations. In this religious census, if accurate- 
ly done, the Catholic body will show a phenomenal growth. 
Perhaps at no time in the history of Catholicism in the United 
States has there been such signs of progress, not only in ex- 
ternal appearance as indicated by increasing numbers and grow- 
ing wealth, but in internal indication of better organization and 
more perfect equipment. We look eagerly for the Census re- 
ports, that will give an official statement of this progress. 

There is just now a very wide-spread move- 
Heform in BeU- ^^^^ j^^ ^^.^ ^^j^^lgg ^^ich has for its pur- 

giouB Art. , , - ,. . . t/i. 

pose the betterment of rehgious art. It has 

enlisted in its service the best artists and art critics and patrons 
not only in Europe but throughout the United States. A fruit 
of the movement is the organization of The Church Crafts' League 
in London and The Architectural League in New York. The 
chief object of both these organizations is to bring the clergy 
and others who are re^K>iiabie for the construction and decora- 
tion of churches into direct relation with artists, and to elimi- 
nate from art as much as possible its commercialism and to re- 
store to it its individual character. There is no more powerful 
preceptor in gospel truths than the permanent exemplification of 
true art, either in approved architecture or in mural decoration. 
" Sermons in stone " are not fictitious. It is a pity, then, not 
to utilize this teaching energy in the best way. An exhibit of 
the best specimens of artistic work is being gathered from all 
over the world, and after it has been presented in New York 
it will be taken to other large cities. The purpose of this ex- 
hibit is entirely educational. It will serve to set up standards 
of true art, and it is hoped that a highly cultivated public 
taste will banish many of the existing crudities now so much 
in evidence in our churches. 

A. P. Doyle. 



282 THE Columbian Reading Union. [Nov., 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

THE Teachings of Dante, by Charles Allen Dinsmore— Houghton, Mifflin & 
Co. — is a book that shows appreciation of a great Catholic poet. It has been 
praised by a writer in The Outlook who considers the value of Dante as a wit- 
ness of the ideas which underlie the interpretation of life, and the great facts of 
experience. In this age, with its vast expansion of interest, its deep humani- 
tarianism, its tendency to emphasize service rather than devotion as the ex- 
pression of the religious feeling, there is a peculiar need of a great witness to 
the deepest facts of experience. Such a witness was Dante. To the men of 
our time, confronted with vast commercial opportunities, and with immense 
material interests of every sort pressing on their hands, he stands a victorious 
and commanding witness to the reality of the spiritual basis of life. In the 
presence of such a genius combined with such a personality as his, that basis is 
seen to be the only enduring foundation, the one lasting reality. Into the very 
heart of the tumultuous material activity of the twentieth century this stern old 
teacher of the thirteenth century brings his indomitable idealism, his clarity of 
vision, in which all temporal things are seen in the searching light of eternity, 
and time itself appears but a fragment of eternity from which the veil has lifted. 
To our tendency to diffuse over a wide field of interests and activities 
Dante opposes his tremendous concentration ; the fixed purpose of an iron will 
solidified into twenty years of heroic toil ; a concentration which absorbed all 
the vital juices of the man's nature, trained his experience, and evoked the full 
'power of his genius in one magnificent and imperishable achievement. Our 
age needs little incentive to work, for no other age has worked harder; 
but it does need Dante's splendid example of work which was not only 
heroic, but held with unbending fidelity to one great end. 

In this age of tolerance, kindliness, and wide sympathy, Dante comes also 
with his intense hatred of every kind of wrong; a hatred which sometimes 
identified the sinner with the sin and punished the one through hatred of the 
other. The tendency of our time — the weakness of its strength — is the 
temptation to lose the old-time horror of sin ; to regard it in a certain sense as 
inevitable; as imperfection rather than moral offence; to condone it by too 
much familiarity ; to confuse the sinner with his sin, and in the endeavor to 
save one to compromise with the other. Dante's soul fairly flamed with 
hatred of sin. He saw it always as the antithesis of righteousness, as the 
enemy of God, as the destroyer of the soul, as the stain on the white gar- 
ments of humanity. He brushed aside every illusion, exposed every pre- 
tension, indignantly stripped off every beautiful mask, and made sin appear as 
hideous in its initial stages as it is seen to be when it has accomplished its 
work. In this attitude of unbending hostility and uncompromising animosity, 
Dante was the witness of a great truth which in our more tolerant and ex- 
pansive period is constantly overlooked. Hatred of sin grows out of any really 
deep and vital view of its significance ; and when men become indifferent or 
easy-going with regard to it, it is because they have lost their insight 
into its essential nature. To really see it as it is, behind all its disguises, 
is to recognize that it is the essence of all meanness, vulgarity, and crime. 



I902.] The Columbian Reading Union, 283 

In our age, with its immense multiplication of instruments and its expan- 
.sion of machinery, Dante comes as a witness to the truth that the greatness of 
man lies wholly in himself, and that what he makes with his hands, however 
impressive and marvellous, is valuable chiefly because it evidences the power 
of his mind and facilitates the higher working of his life. Machinery, how- 
ever adroit, exquisitely adapted to its ends, and marvellously elaborated, can 
never become alive : it is man only who lives; it is man only who is supremely 
important. It is the greatness of man, not his wealth, which is to be sought 
for ; it is the freedom of man, not his comfort, which is the supreme interest 
of society. In exile, without friends, in the bitterness of a great solitude, with 
no help from his kind, Dante performed a work which is perhaps the greatest 
achievement of an entire period, of more value than the material products of 
many centuries to human progress of the highest order. 

Every age presents a new point of view, and in every century the attitude 
of thinking men and women towards the problems of life is modified or 
changed. The fundamental questions which are presented in every field of 
thought and endeavor are not answered as th^e result of speculative processes ; 
they are thought out, but in a still deeper sense they are worked out. It is 
inevitable, therefore, that each age should concern itself with a group of speci- 
fic truths, and put its energy into the solution of specific problems. For this 
reason every age is somewhat one-sided ; it overvalues certain aspects of truth 
and undervalues others ; and it is, therefore, essential for balance and sym- 
metry that each age should keep itself in touch with the formative periods 
of the past. It is for this reason among others that the great creative works 
of literature possess a permanent interest for each successive period and 
present supreme claims upon the attention of every age. 

• • • 

In reply to a correspondent we would state that there were three remark- 
able articles on Philosophical Terminology published in vols, xvii.-xviii. of 
The Catholic World Magazine, beginning July, 1873. They were from 
the pen of the late Rev. Joseph Bayma, S.J., who was justly regarded as one 
of the ablest exponents of Catholic philosophy. He also contributed to this 
mag^ine a series of articles under the following titles : Principles of Real 
Being, Constitution of Matter, Discussions with an Infidel, as well as some 
erudite reviews of books and articles dealing with philosophical questions. 
We are informed that he also left in the care of his brethren some unpub- 
lished treatises bearing on the modern discussion of general metaphysics. 
His knowledge of mathematics was very extensive. The souvenir pamphlet 
published to commemorate the golden jubilee of Santa Clara College, Cali- 
fornia, contained a fitting tribute to his memory in these words : 

Joseph Bayma was born near Turin, Italy, November 9, 18 16; received 
his early education at the Jesuit College of Turin; passed to the Royal Univer- 
sity, to fit himself for one of the learned professions ; and was received into 
the Society of Jesus at Chieri, Italy, February 5, 1832. He taught at 
the age of seventeen in the College of Nobles; was ordained priest in 1843, 
and was shortly after appointed lecturer in the great Roman College. In 1845 
he was appointed rector of the Episcopal Seminary at Bertinoro, in Romagna, 
which he built and remodelled, and made one of the leading institutions of 
learning in Italy, a position it still holds. During his term of presidency he 



284 Tff^ Columbian Reading Union. [Nov., 

w^ also Scripture lecturer in Bertinoro. In 1848, the Revolutionists having 
secured the expulsion of the Jesuits, Father Bayma, with his fellow-religious, 
sought the hospitality of France, whence he was sent to England in 1857, 
as professor of mental philosophy, in the Jesuit College of Stonyhurst. He 
wrote here his course of philosophy, and taught it to successive classes, and 
composed also his Treatise on Molecular Mechanics^ which has been ^highly 
commended and much studied at Oxford and Cambridge. In 1869 Father 
Bayma set out for California, and on his arrival he was entrusted with 
the charge of St. Ignatius College, San Francisco, in which he greatly 
improved the school accommodations, the library and scientif:c cabinets. He 
taught, while president, higher mathematics, and wrote articles for the lead- 
ing magazines. In 1880 he was sent to Santa Clara College, where he con- 
tinued to teach until his death, 1892. Rev. Father Bayma was a man of the 
most varied attainments, an orator of surpassing power in his own native 
tongue, and a clever painter. As a poet he composed an epic poem of 
no mean merit on ' Christopher Columbus,' in the octava rima of Tasso. 
He was a Latin scholar of the most refined taste, and intimately acquainted 
with the chief writers of ancient times, long passages from whose works he 
could recite by the hour, even in his old age. 

• • • ' 

A few months ago a number of the Catholic ladies of Lawrence, Mass., or- 
ganized a new literary society under the name of the Aventine Club, with these 
ofScers : president, Mrs. Katharine A. O'Mahony ; vice-president, Mrs. Mau- 
rice Curran; recording secretary, Miss Elizabeth O'Leary; corresponding 
secretary, Miss Mary O'Mahony ; financial secretary, Mrs. Robert F. Sbee- 
han ; treasurer, Mrs. Walter Conlan ; executive committee — Mesdames M. 
O'Mahony, D. F. Conlon, John Joyce, Adelaide Cummiskey, and Miss Margaret 
Desmond. 

The ladies of the Aventine Club have numerously both the taste and the 
leisure for advanced literary studies, and the competence of their president to 
direct such studies is well proven. There is, moreover, much musical and 
some artistic ability among the members, and they have started their pro- 
gramme of work seriously and with excellent prospects. They meet once a 
week — for the present at one another's home, and the membership is restricted 
for a time to thirty-five active members. 

The Aventine Club had its first social event on the evening of Friday, June 
20, at the Franklin Hotel ; the guest of honor being Miss Katharine E. Con- 
way, of Boston. 

The parlors were artistically decorated with flowers and potted plants. A 
brief programme was given, consisting of two songs — words by Miss Conway; 
Loving and Having (music by C. F. Weber) and Nepenthe (music, Miss Belle 
Menard), both charmingly rendered respectively by Mrs. John J. Donovan 
and Mrs. Walter Conlan. Mrs. Adelaide Cummiskey playing the accompani- 
ments. 

Then Miss Julia Leader read with great taste and feeling a poem by the 
guest of the evening, A Dream of Lilies. 

Mrs. O'Mahony, after a word on the origin of the Aventine Club, gave an 
introduction of the guest of honor as associate editor of The Pilot, and author 
of Lalor's Maples and other popular books. 



I902.] THE Columbian Reading Union, 285 

Miss Conway's topic viras Literary Societies: Their Spiritual, Intellectual, 
and Social Influences. She said that as the Catholic Summer- School could 
trace its history back to St. Augustine, so can a Reading Union like the Aven- 
tine go back to St. Jerome and the group of noble and bright- minded Roman 
ladies who gathered about him in that famous house on the Aventine to study 
the Sacred Scriptures. 

The strengthening of our faith by a broader and deeper knowledge of the 
church's teachings and an intimate acquaintance with its heroes in every con- 
dition of life ; the disciplining of our intellect which inevitably comes with such 
study; the acquiring of high standards even in fiction; the development of a 
Catholic community spirit and decent self-respect by ke^ng in touch with the 
best and greatest of our own in contemporary life, and by working with our 
neighbors and co-religionists in our own city, were the chief points developed 
by Miss Conway. She deprecated the cheap and disloyal spirit which makes 
certain foolish Catholics esteem social intercourse with those outside the Church 
as a superior thing. 

Miss Conway's paper was very favorably received. An informal reception 
to her followed. Then came refreshments and dancing. 

The reception was in charge of the social committee : Mrs. M. O'Mahony, 
chairman; Mrs. John Joyce, and Mrs. D. F. Conlon. 

The young ladies who officiated as ushers were the Misses Theresa and 
Helen Farrell, Julia and Katharine Sheehan, Mary Mahony, Mary £. 
Mahony, Mary L. Ford, Susan O'Connor, and Margaret Desmond. 

Among those present at the evening's reception were : The Rev. James 
T. O'Reilly, O.S.A. ; Dr. and Mrs. William J. Sullivan, Mr. and Mrs. M. J. 
Curran, Mr. and Mrs. John J. Donovan, and many other distinguished patrons 
of the Aventive Club. 

• • • 

The following tribute to the Catholic clergy was drawn from the pen of a 
non-Catholic writer of some repute, Julian Hawthorne, upon the occasion of 
his witnessing the long procession of priests at the recent funeral of Archbishop 
Corrigan in New York : 

"It was a marvellous sight to see the profile of these priestly heads pass- 
ing successively one after another, bowed and serious. Endless was the variety 
of types ; inexhaustible the diversity of character ; they were old and young, 
high and low, noble and plain, dignified and awkward, stern and mild, humble 
and proud, strong and weak ; none was like another in all that multitude ; and 
yet adl had in common one look — the look of mingled authority and obedience. 
There is no other look that could be mistaken for it in the tribes of mortal 
men ; it told of such a training and discipline as no other men are called on to 
sustain. It was the look worn by those who spread the doctrines of the church 
over the face of the earth ; who worked and suffered and died to save souls in 
the primeval wilderness ; who have built up in their fellow-men this mighty 
fact of the Catholic Church. It allied them one with another and brought 
them into unity in one stupendous organism, the body of Christ. 

" They constitute one of the greatest forces created on earth ; quiet, 
subtle, omnipresent, well-nigh irresistible. Behind them lies a history of deeds 
unparalleled. And after two thousand years they seem as strong, as compact 
and purposeful as in the days of the early Fathers. 

** These are the men who overthrew paganism, and who rule to-day the 
larger part of the Christian world. From them emanated the holy army of 
martyrs and the company of the saints; from their ranks were chosen the 
popes who governed Europe and turned the tides of history. Their outward 
temporal power is no longer what it was; but the power of no temporal 
monarch equals theirs. Authority and obedience mingle in their aspect ; these 
are the virtues to which the world succumbs." M. C. M. 



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Vol. LXXVI. DECEMBER, 1902. No. 453. 




THE TURNING OF THE FIRST SOD. 

ERHAPS the most significant event of this year 
was the turning of the first sod of the APOS- 
TOLIC Mission House, oh the grounds of the 
Catholic University at Washington, on the after- 
noon of November 13. A photograph of this 
historic event is presented on the opposite page. The sod was 
turned by Cardinal Gibbons, in the presence of the archbishops, 
a number of bishops, and a large gathering of ecclesiastics! 
The significance of this event is the official recognition given 
by the Hierarchy to the movement which has for its purpose 
the preaching of Catholic doctrine to non- Catholics. The special 
purpose to which the Apostolic Mission House will be devoted 
will be the training of missionaries to do this work. The 
Catholic University has set aside a plot of ground 200 by 200 
on which the Mission House will be built. The project now be- 
longs to the Church in the United States. The hierarchy has taken 
hold of it and has placed this little plant of the missions in its 
own special nursery at the University, and there it will be fostered. 
The students at the Mission House will be diocesan priests, 
sent there by their bishops. After a year or more of special 
training in apologetics and methods of mission work, they will 
return to their dioceses in order to inaugurate, or continue 
where already inaugurated, Apostolate Bands for the work of 
giving missions to non- Catholics. In some dioceses, as for 
example New York, Cleveland, Providence, Hartford, and 
other places, these Apostolate bands are already doing success- 
ful work. It is hoped that in a few years they will be estab- 
lished in every diocese in the country. This will giye a body 
of three or four hundred diocesan missionaries under the imme- 

Thb Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State 

OF New York, 1^02, 
yOL. LXXVL — 19 



288 The turning of the First Sod. [Dec, 

diate direction of the bishops, to look after the rural districts 
and the smaller places, and for such other diocesan missionary 
work as the needs of the diocese may demand. 

The attitude of the church towards those outside the fold is 
changing. For fifty years or more, since the great stream of 
immigration has come to our shores, we have been home-building 
and looking out after " our own," and now ' the doors of 
our churches are thrown open to the stranger that is within 
the gates. The normal state of the church is missionary. 
The inauguration of the Apostolic Mission House means the 
perfecting of this new policy. It affirms the fact that, inasmuch 
as there is but one true church and that the Catholic Church, 
all sincere Christians should have the claims of the Catholic 
Church presented to them. It is necessary to have a corps of 
missionaries to carry on this work It is necessary that the 
bishop, whose responsibility is over every baptized soul in his 
diocese, should have at his command a body of light infantry who 
may be sent here and there as circumstances demand, and by this 
means he will be able to carry on the missionary work of the diocese. 

Moreover, it will not be many years before the Apostolic 
Mission House will be the nursery of vocations for the Foreign 
Mission field. America as a world power must contribute its 
quota to the missionary work of the world. Heretofore it has 
done very little outside the borders of our own country, but 
our unparalleled growth and our immense resources demand 
that we shall contribute no small amount to the Christianizing 
of heathen lands. It is hoped, therefore, that before long, 
along with the Home Missions, the Foreign Missions will be 
represented at this Apostolic House. 

The future is bright for this mission work. It is no longer 
an untried problem. For ten years the movement has gone 
forward by leaps and bounds. Thousands of converts have been 
received through its instrumentality, and no end of prejudices 
have been removed. The church is in a far more commanding 
position to-day than she was ten years ago before this work 
began, and during the next decade of years a still more re- 
markable change will take place in public sentiment. 

The people have recognized this and have given generously 
to this missionary project, and it is our serious hope that in a 
few years the work that was begun by Cardinal Gibbons will 
be completed and adequately endowed for all time to come. 

Rev. a. p. DOYLE. 



I902.] Leo XIII. : His Enemies and Critics. 289 




LEe>XIlI.: HIS ENEMIES AND CRITICS. 

By REV. D. J. MacMACKIN, d.d. 

^£0 XIII. more than once has ascribed the anti- 
religious movements simultaneously carried on 
in different European countries to an interna- 
tional Jewish-Socialist-Masonic coalition, whose 
existence and active propaganda are amply 
manifested by the chronicles of the past few years. The real 
significance of Leo*s warnings may be gathered without diffi- 
culty from current events in France, Spain, Italy, Portugal, 
Austria, and Germany. 

The French government, with its now famous " Loi des As- 
sociations," has inaugurated a new Kulturkampf worthy of the 
late Bismarck. Waldeck- Rousseau declared that society, hither- 
to founded on and directed by principles of Christianity, must 
henceforth rest on a rationalistic basis. Whatever differences 
the supporters of the Waldeck- Rousseau ministry may have had 
among themselves, they all unite in their hatred of Christ and 
His Holy Church. The ukase of the sect has gone forth: 
Christianity must give way to Rationalism ! 

The " Loi des Associations " has had one good effect. It 
has discovered the real designs of the enemies of the church 
and of France. The Masonic combine is well known and well 
defined in Europe. It courts no concealment; but gloats over 
its power and victories, especially in the Dreyfus affair, which 
almost drove France to national suicide; in the high-handed 
measures of General Andre against leading Catholic officials of 
the army, and in the present persecution of the religious orders, 
a persecution anti-patriotic as well as anti-religious. 

The religious children of France, bearing the seeds of 
Christian civilization to all quarters of the earth, bring with 
them that ardent, undying love of France which is one of their 
noblest characteristics. Even the political enemies of France 
confess that the religious orders have done as much, and per- 
haps more, for the welfare of the French Republic than its 
ambassadors and consuls. England and Germany look with a 
jealous eye on these ministers of French influence. A noble 
mission surely for enlightened statesmen ! — to hound monks and 



290 Leo XIIL /. Hm^ enemies AND^ X^JUTICS. [Dca, 

nuns who displayed such heroism and patriotism in the disas- 
trous war with Germany, and who at the summons of Leo 
were among the first to rally to the standard of the Republic. 
But the sect sans patrie is blind to patriotic as well as religious 
motives. 

We have had personally more than one experience of the 
liberal and tolerant spirit of the French Socialists. In 1896 we 
were present at the fourteenth centenary of the baptism of 
Clovis, celebrated in the magnificent Cathedral of Reims. The 
Socialists showed their appreciation of the past glories of 
France — ^*' Gesta Dei per Francos" — ^by making an, anti-religious 
" demonstration/' by smashing crosses and banners, and tearif^g 
the sacred garments from the shoulders of the ministers. 

We pas$ to Spain. The Kulturkampf in France has its 
sequel in Spain. The government of Madrid is much concerned 
over the probable immigration of monks and nuns consequent 
on the Waldeck-Rousseau-Combes persecution. Spanish Liber- 
alism could not tolerate such an infiux. Something must be 
done to rouse public opinion to the gravity of the impending 
danger. A comedy is produced in Madrid advocating the 
burning of convents, and the suggestion is hailed with rapturou)5 
applause by the hired minions of the sect. 

At Valencia, while the Jesuits are committing the horrible 
crime of consecrating children to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, 
tlie clients of the coalition create a demonstration before the 
church, and with shouts of " Abajo los Jesuitas ! " " Viva la 
libertad ! " proceed to show their love and respect for liberty 
by smashing the windows of St. Joseph's College. - No friars 
for Spain ! Liberal public opinion is against them. 

Padre Montana is deposed from his office of royal tutor be- 
cause he had the audacity to publish an article condemning 
the anti^-Christian tendencies of Liberalism. 

Princess Mercedes would marry the prince of her choice, 
but the Masonic ukase is against it — Que no se case! — and the 
cry is heralded through the streets of Madrid by the mouth- 
pieces of Liberal public opinion. " Viva la libertad ! *' The 
fiancd is a prince, a soldier who has fought bravely in defence 
of Spain and Cuba ; but a union between a Bourbon of Naples 
and a princess of the royal family of Spain was displeasing to 
Italian Masons, and therefore to the brethren of Madrid. For- 
tunately their plans were foiled. 

La Se^orita Ubao; a young lady twenty*four years old, de^ 



1.902:] Leo xiil : His Enemies and': cmztics.. 29 r 

fermined to become a ntrn, " Fuera ! " Willy-nilly she must 
leave the convent. Her Masonic father, aided by the sect, 
forced her to- abandon the place which she entered of her own 
accord, and where she would willingly remain. . 

In Italy the '* Roman Question " is a standing manifestation 
of the forces allied against the Church and the Papacy. The 
enemies of the Pope are the enemies of Italy. Some far-seeing 
statesmen of Rome are beginning to recognize that fact. United 
Italy to-day is on the high-road to financial ruin and political 
disaster. ^' Qui mange du Pape, en meurt ! " 

We pass over the frequent demonstrations in honor of 
Giordano Bruno in Campo Fiori, the comments of the Masonic 
press on the "Anno Santo fiasco" {sic), the efforts being made 
throughout Italy to drive the catechism and the crucifix from 
the schools, the insult to pure Catholic sentiment by the ad- 
dition of nude figures to the Fontana Termini, and the bitter 
contests in the Concilio Municipale of. Rome when the Catholic 
members who fought loyally for Catholic rights had to be 
escorted to their homes by gendarmes "Viva la liberta"! 

Portugal has received the password and stringent measures 
against the religious orders are already in process of formation. 

In Austria, to the Tacoli-Ledochowski incident we must now 
add the famous " Los von Rom " movement which is still going 
on, assisted by the money and the press of the Jewish and 
Pan-Germanic enemies of Austria. The " Evangelisches Bund '* 
has opened public subscriptions in Germany to help the " Los 
von Rom" campaign. 

Germany, too, has its demonstrations. The " Centre " formu- 
lated a law for the establishment of true religious liberty. 
What a howl goes up from the Protestant-Atheistic coalition 
against such an audacious blow at the constitution and traditions 
of the German States! 

. In Wiirtemberg the same coalition finds, to its great amaze* 
ment, that the throne will pass to the Catholic branch of the 
royal family, and worst of all, that the Catholics have a majority 
in the Senate. Such a state of affairs is intolerable. Hence the 
agitation already started in the House of Deputies and in the 
press to reform the constitution so as to undermine the Catho- 
lic majority. No liberty for Catholics to exercise their religion 
in peace according to the dictates of their conscience because 
the constitution and traditions are against it! But when the 
predominance of the sect is in jeopardy the constitution must 



292 Leo XIII. : His enemies and Critics. [Dec, 

be changed to meet the emergency, and traditions are confined 
to oblivion. Hoch ! Hoch ! Die Freiheit ! 

Despite the plausible conduct of the Kaiser towards Catholic 
Bavaria, there is an underhand, constant effort to supplant all 
Catholic officials in the public administration by Protestants 
and Atheists. The Bavarians were far too dilatory in detecting 
and resisting the insidious attack, and are now face to face with 
a difficult problem, especially after the insults offered to the 
popular and well-beloved Prince Alphonso. 

We may connect the case of Prince Alphonso with similar 
occurrences in other countries, such as the Tacoli-Ledochowski 
incident in Austria, and the anti-clerical policy of General Andr^ 
against leading Catholic officials of the French army, of whom 
some have preferred recently to undergo court-martial rather 
than persecute those consecrated women who in time of battle 
nurse the wounded soldier back to life and health. 

What does all this mean ? What does it signify ? The 
above-mentioned facts and many others too numerous to relate 
are tangible and indisputable. It requires no genius to find an 
explanation for them. English and German Masons do not 
sacrifice the interests of Germany and of England to those of 
France. The campaign against the clergy and Catholic men in 
public life is carried on in Catholic countries, and aims at the 
destruction of all social and political influence favorable to the 
church. The Jewish-Socialist-Masonic coalition is no conjured 
nightmare. It is an international sect, " sans patrie," leagued 
against God and Christ; "adversus Deum et Christum ejus." 

It is quite a la mode nowadays to criticise the Roman 
Curia. Pious and liberal Catholics like Richard Bagot, Verax, 
and other contributors to the London Times and to the Pilot 
seem to make a specialty of the Roman Curia. Healthy criti- 
cism is, I think, a saving element of all progress, and most help- 
ful in every profession, but such criticism is very rare because 
of the varied, difficult, almost contradictory qualities necessary 
in a capable critic. 

How easy it is to throw off sweeping generalities under a 
patriotic pseudonym! "The retrograde tendencies of the Roman 
Curia," ** Its foreign policy dictated by French Nationalists/' 
" Its mediaeval reaction," " Its ignorance and hatred of all 
liberal institutions "; " Cardinal Rampolla and Mery del Val in 
power while liberal prelates are snubbed." 

In our own country, " Roman Catholic," a recent corre- 



I902.] Leo XIIL : His enemies and Critics. 293 

spondent to the New York Sun^ makes the following declara- 
tion of principles: "The representatives of Catholic societies 
most assuredly assume the responsibility of being competent to 
instruct Cardinal RampoUa/' "The Catholics of the United 
States have a perfect right to tell even the Pope what they 
think, etc." " * An American Catholic ' argues as if he con- 
sidered the Pope and his Secretary of State infallible, and we 
are led to infer that the Pope's will must never be opposed or 
thwarted. . . ." "Bellarmin contends that there are times 
when it is lawful to resist the Pope, etc." 

After calling to order the Pope and his Secretary of State, 
"Roman Catholic" gives his instructions to the American 
Bishops. In other countries, bishops may content themselves 
with the spiritual welfare of their flocks, and give themselves 
to all kinds of sports and to frequent displays of ecclesiastical 
finery. " But in this great country we expect our bishops and 
priests to be interested not only in our eternal but in our tem- 
poral welfare. We do not want them to play ping-pong with 
us, or join in all our sports ; but we do expect that they will 
not move among us in a cloud of incense, dressed up in pur- 
ple and fine linen, in season and out of season. We expect 
our spiritual leaders to be our guides, our philosophers and 
friends; and all this will Federation do and more"! Such a 
statement coming from " an eloquent Trenton priest " is re- 
markable, and to the friends of the Federation idea it has been 
quite a revelation. 

To one familiar with Roman affairs, the accusation of these 
English and American critics have an amusing naivete. It 
would be interesting to know what these retrograde tendencies 
are ? What foreign policy has been dictated by French Nation- 
alists ? What is this mediaeval reaction ? What liberal institu- 
tions have incurred the hatred of the Roman Curia? 

Mgr. Mery del Val is a great favorite with Leo XIIL He 
is a young prelate of excellent qualities, but to say that he 
controls the ear and shapes the policy of the present Pontiff is 
to display gross ignorance concerning Leo and the Vatican. 

Here is another] oft-repeated accusation : " The shortsight- 
edness of the Vatican is, in recent years, scarcely conceivable." 
Do you know why ? Poor Vatican ! Instead of keeping both 
eyes on the almighty dollar, it threw in its lot with Spain, 
favored the cause of the Boers, and in consequence suffered a 
considerable diminution of Peter's pence. Looking at the policy 



^94 LEO XIII. : HIS ENEMIES AND CRITICS. [Dec, 

of Rome from a merely financial view-point, it is not only 
shortsighted ; it is blind and stupid. What foolishness, for in- 
stance, on the part of the Pope and Vatican not to accept the 
appropriation set aside by the Quirinal every year as compen« 
Nation (?) for the usurped temporal possessions and prerogatives 
of the Papacy ! 

The enemies of the church abroad love to dwell frequently 
on what they consider a .diminution of the church's prestige in 
social and political spheres, but they rarely have levelled their 
standards of appreciation so low as to accuse the Vatican of 
sacrificing principles to a sordid greed for filthy lucre. 

Catholics should not forget some recent leaders in the New 
York Times. "The United States has acted in the matter (of 
the Friars) with the utmost liberality. It was willing to pay 
far more for the friars' lands than they were commercially 
worth for the purpose of getting rid of the friars. . . . For 
the Vatican to accept the extravagant offer and at ' the same 
time to refuse to use its influence toward giving the main con- 
sideration in view of which we made it, is neither business- 
like nor honorable, as these terms are understood among men 
of the world." 

Exactly. The Vatican does not understand the terms " busi- 
ness** and ^^ honor*' as men of this world understand them. 
The expulsion of the friars is not a matter of ^* business** nor 
of mere ** policy.** All the money in America could not buy 
the expulsion of the friars. It is one thing to negotiate for the 
purchase of the friars' lands. That is business. To negotiate 
for the expulsion of the friars is quite a different matter. To 
make the purchase of the friars' lands and the expulsion of the 
friars correlative terms of a contract, and to consider such a 
contract as mtre\y^^ business** or ^^ policy ** is something con- 
ceivable only in the most unprincipled and unscrupulous men 
of the world. 

A solution of the vexed problem will be reached, and a 
solution honorable in the highest sense of the word. Rome is 
an incomparable vantage-ground. Its vision of the world is the 
widest, the truest, the best. The successor of St. Peter occu- 
pies the most conspicuous place in the world's affairs. ** He is 
no recluse, no solitary student, no dreamer about the past, no 
doter upon the dead and gone, no projector of the visionary. 
He for nineteen hundred years has lived in the world ; he has 
seen all fortunes, he has encountered all adversaries, he has 



I902.] Leo XIIL: His Enemies and Critics. 295 

shaped himself for all emergencies ; if ever there was a power 
on earth who had an eye for the times, who has confined him- 
self to the practicable, and has been happy in his anticipations, 
whose words have been facts, and whose commands prophecies, 
such is he in the history of the ages who sits from generation 
to generation in the chair of the apostles as the Vicar of Christ 
and the Doctor of His Church " (Newman, " Idea of Univ.," p. 13). 

These lines are strikingly true of the present .PontiflF, Leo 
XIIL, whom Providence raised up to govern the church in 
these perilous times. Justin McCarthy, a writer of rare discre- 
tion, who has had unusual opportunities for studying the influ- 
ence of the Papacy on the problems of the day, pays this 
tribute to the great shepherd of Christendom : " Pope Leo 
XIIL has been careful beyond almost any of his predecessors 
not to let anything escape him which concerns the interests of 
human beings all over the earth. . . . Philanthropy seems 
to be with him a passion. Some of the great social movements 
which came up during his time might well have intimidated a 
less heroic spirit." 

Despite his abnormal position in the city of the Peters, de- 
spite the anti- clerical persecutions so notorious in the declining 
years of the nineteenth century, Leo XIIL crossed the threshold 
of the new century with firm hope and unflinching courage, in- 
augurating the new era with- a universal jubilee wherein he 
gathered his millions of children around him and consecrated 
them to the Divine Redeemer. 

The paternal call for a reunion of Christendom, the impetus 
given to higher education in the colleges and universities of the 
world, the wonderful progress and consolidation of the Catholic 
Hierarchy, the magnificent encyclicals, ." Rerum Novarum," 
" Quod Apostolici muneris," " Graves de Communi," which, with 
various discourses to labor pilgrimages, form Leo's *' Summa 
Sociologica," the timely warning to different countries and 
fatherly appeals for peace and justice — all these are but a few 
of the great labors of Leo and his learned Curia, which com- 
mand the admiration of all those whose minds are not blinded 
by prejudices, whose eyes are not to the noon-day sun " sicut 
oculus vespertilionis." 

Well might Leo turn to his critics and say : *' If I have 
spoken evil, give testimony of the evil ; but if well, why strikest 
thou me ? " 



296 UN/TARIAfflSM AND RELIGION IN EDUCATION. [Dec., 



UNITARIANISM AND RELIGION IN EDUCATION. 

BY J. S. 

two matters of deeper concern to Catholics can 
be named than Religious Missions and Religion 
in Education, and to have them brought for- 
ward by two prominent and influential Unitarians 
is gratifying, for, ordinarily, Catholics and Uni- 
tarians are relatively polar. The Reverend Doctor Edward 
Everett Hale, of Boston, has elicited from us copious informa- 
tion about Catholic missions, for the benefit of his young friends, 
who, but for his thoughtfulness, might never have known aught 
of these glorious records. And now Mrs, Julia Ward Howe, 
also of Boston, utters an eloquent and powerful appeal for the 
Christian education of American children. Than this appeal 
nothing could be more apropos, and we will second her effort 
and give to her words the widest possible circulation. They 
should be generally read, for their force and candor and their 
appropriateness to the present conditions of American life. 

Regretting that we cannot give her paper' entire, we must 
brief it, thus: 

A century ago religion was still old>fashioned ; but it was 
time for a simple and child-lilce Christianity. The fight for this 
had to come; but, it being now over and the victory won, let 
us save from the debris whatever of value may remain. The 
necessary negations of the conflict alluded to lefl their impress 
in scepticism, and carefully educated families have been reared 
without habit of prayer, knowledge of Scripture, custom of 
public worship. But when, to young people thus reared, Hfe- 
trials shall come, when even prosperity may cause weariness 
and distaste of life itself, where then shall these dear ones seek 
comfort and spiritual guidance ? Why, either in the Catholic 
Church or in blank negation. It is painful to find church- 
attendance of no importance, and, still worse, ignorance of the 
Bible (of which Mrs. Howe regards portions as still valuable). 
Prophets, David, Solomon, and the later Gospel which has 
changed the face of the world. Faith, Hope, and Love are 
still as essential as when St. Paul commended them (and these 
are now freed from clouds), and aspiration and service, God's 
* BeitoK Chriitiati RtgUler, August a8, 1901. 



I902.1 Unitarianism and Religion in Education. 297 

love* and all men for all men, are added. The necessity for 
religrious institutions is deep ; only in reconstruction let us profit 
by experience, and make the Unitarian Church a temple towards 
which the hearts of all the world may turn with longing.' 

Although Mrs. Howe's plea is addressed ostensibly to Uni- 
tarians, her vision is national in scope ; she loves her whole 
country, and would gladly benefit every American in it. And 
all should welcome her and heed her advice, for Unitarians 
have no monopoly of contempt for religion, neglect for children, 
and deterioration from the high ideals of our forefathers. 

For American children the outlook may well cause anxiety. 
Germs of character should be implanted and fostered during 
their youth. "Train up a child," and "as the twig is bent," 
etc. Crimes of grown people multiply until they become 
commonplace and uninteresting, and the escapades and offences 
of young people, hardly out of their teens, grow more numer- 
ous and more grave. Young Americans seem unconscious of 
higher ideals than wealth, pleasure, and athletics. The press 
brings the world daily before us, and, together with much that 
is excellent and useful, carries into our families much that is 
baneful for our children. How best can we shield them ? How 
inculcate reverence, modesty, respect for parents ? By good 
example, of course ; but how, beside that ? 

Mrs. Howe thinks firstly, perhaps chiefly, of home-training, 
and no one will deny that a home of practical Christians may 
be the best field for rearing Christian young people. But for 
the vast majority of American children this favorable condition 
does not exist; home-training with religious influences is for them 
impracticable. Surely, Mrs. Howe must feel for the families of 
laboring people as well as for those of people in easy circumstances. 
In the great majority of American families the bread-winner toils 
daily (and his woman slaves to help him) to make both ends 
meet, and by night-time both parents have reached utter 
fatigue. What a blessing for such families to have their children 
daily cared for by teachers solicitous for their souls and characters 
as well as for their minds ! And children so trained often edify 
and improve their parents. Catholics maintain parochial schools, 
at great and onerous expense, because of their conviction of 
the absolute necessity of religion in education and of the wild 
absurdity of hoping to raise Christian citizens from infidel youths 
or youths ignorant of all religion. 



298 UNITARIANISM AND RELIGION IN EDUCATION. [Dec, 

Some people have an impression that Sunday-schools are of 
niodern invention and suffice for . the religious education of 
young people, while the simple truth is that the church is and 
has ever been solicitous about her children on all seven days 
of the week instead of on only one day. American children 
need training in reverence (almost a lost trait), in temperance, 
in love and fear of God, in purity, charity, truth, and fortitude, 
and for these symbol and example are often more efficacious than 
mere precept Wisdom would prescribe the- use of all means r 
no homes and no schools without their crucifixes, statues, and 
pictures. Virtues: purity, obedience, faith, and truth, kept con- 
stantly before the young gradually impress their minds and be- 
come bases of character. 

If one will say, time cannot be spared from secular studies 
for moral and religious themes, the answer, constantly backed 
by evidence, is, that scholars so taught will excel, even in studies 
wholly secular, others to whom religion is never mentioned. 
This fact has been demonstrated over and over again. 

Does hot this cry of Mrs. Howe's recall Jefferson's striking 
metaphor of a fire-bell in the night ? 

" Do we wish our children to enter this field of practical 
Hfe without religion ? What other power will guide them 
among the pitfalls of temptation ? What other agency will re- 
deem them after repeated offence and failure ? What will con-p 
sole them when the heart is bursting with sorrow? What will 
reconcile them to suffering, and even to death itself? If our 
children grow up with no habit of devout thought, with no re- 
liance on prayer, with no outlook toward immortality, what will 
be their attitude in view of the troubles of life?" 

To these searching questions we must respond: Why not 
consult the church that for so many centuries has directed the 
training of Christian children ? Has she not produced enough 
of holy men and women, of heroes and saints, of the great and 
good in every rank of life, to be able to give good counsel ? 
She would prescribe thus to Christian parents: Dedicate chil- 
dren while yet in the womb to faith and fidelity ; as soon as 
born make them Christians by baptism ; in adolescence familiarize 
them with the life of our Lord as babe, youth, and man ; also, of 
his saints; drill them in the catechism, habituate them to confes- 
sion, and let them approach Holy Communion and confirmation as 
early in life as they are judged to be duly prepared; have them, 
under pain of sin, assist at Mass on Sundays and holydays. 



I902.] Unitarianism and Religion in Education. ^299 

This mode of rearing Christians has long been tried and 
found to work well. Does Mrs. Howe think it. can be improved 
upon ? It is true that in later years these Christian children, 
then adults, may fall away and yield under temptation; hut 
Iheir parents will have done their duty by them, and the off- 
spring will always know how to repent and save their souls, 
and this will be knowing a very great deal. . 

Catholic children wear over their hearts scapulars of brown 
— Our Lady's color — like the crimson or blue worn by so 
many enthusiasts for Harvard or Yale. Also medals, effigies 
of the saints in glory, whom we ask to pray for us. They and 
we also make use of the rosary (an epitome of our Lord's iife 
and death), whose simplicity is such that it is the same, word 
for word, for the Pope and for the humblest laborer. If there 
be Philistines who look sourly upon the Catholic use of em^ 
blems, Mrs. Howe will not be. one, when we assure her upon 
honor that those symbols and practices are powerful in exer- 
cising our faith (chiefest of human treasures) and in strengthen- 
ing us against sin (the only thing that ever offends God). We 
are grateful to her for her aid in this most important matter 
of the Christian education of American children^, and hope she 
may continue her efforts in. the same direction. 

Mrs. Howe . points to the rapid decadence of Unitarians 
from all revealed truth during their . seventy-five years' record, 
and seems to feel some regret, though she does not exactly 
say so. As we have before remarked, Unitarians have arrived 
safely at nothing, and any indication of their spiritual discomfort, 
from whatever direction it may come, must be a welcome sign. 

Emerson and Parker in their day shocked their brethren by 
negations and bold free- thinking, yet both are considered anti- 
quated fossils by Unitarians of our time. The founders of Uni- 
tarianism chafed under Puritan orthodoxy and wanted more of 
religious freedom, yet clung affectionately to much of Christian 
revelation — professed it and lived by it — while their successors 
have discarded all of it and now believe actually in nothing, 
save themselves. 

Channing should ever remain the real representative of Uni- 
tarianism. We remember him well. He lifted us upon his knee 
and caressed us. We were bred to revere him, and we know 
his works, their devoutncss, their reverence, his loving friend- 
ship for Bishop Cheverus, and his decent respect and even ten- 
derness for the faith of all Christians. Although he lived amid 



300 Unitarianism and Reugion in Education. [Dec, 

transcendentalism and had some inkling and much dread of 
changes to come, the present status of Unitarianism would have 
beoen utterly beyond his power of belief ; and we doubt not, if 
he could have heard repeated the last Radcliife address of the 
president of Harvard (an institution then as now Unitarian) he 
would have been bitterly distressed and have hastened to Cam- 
bridge, spite of his delicate health, to express his shame and 
disgust. 

Yet, after all. President Eliot's advice to 113 New England 
young women (not to try to save their souls) should shock us 
less than their silence under it. Was there not one among 
them to rise and protest? This fact pains us more than the 
silly counsel itself. However, there will be other opportunities 
for resentment, if Radcliffe women shall choose. To the grad* 
uates of 1903 the President will probably say: "You have not 
got any souls. After this life, is simply oblivion." If that 
shall be calmly endured, we must wait again for the graduates 
of 1904, who will be told: "There is no God. The notion of 
God is an invention of theologians." We will not try to go 
any further into the future; but if such stuff suits American 
young women, then the outlook is dreadful for the coming 
generation of Americans, and Mrs. Howe's appeal has been 
made none too soon. 

As for her wish that a new church, of simple and child-like 
Christianity, and retaining portions of the Bible, may be built 
by Unitarians from the debris of their conflict with Orthodoxy 
and may draw all the world to itself, we can only say we wish 
we could second it. With us a lady's wish has the force of an 
imperial edict, and yet in the present case we cannot even be 
encouraging. Unitarians are skilled in the destruction of reli- 
gion, but they will find construction of it a diflFerent matter, 
and we do not believe they have forecasted all its difficulties. 
At the outset trouble will come, over a title for their world- 
church : Neo- Christian, Quasi-Buddhist, Pseudo-Hebraic, or some 
other conglomerate ; and other troubles will follow. Human 
beings are unreasonable. Some will retain a penchant for real 
Christianity, or real something or other. Some will want wor- 
ship of God, with affirmative and stable faith, while the Uni- 
tarian cult is self-worship and views. Unitarian doses of reli- 
gion are homeopathic, almost undiscernible, while by some 
people allopathic quantities will be preferred. Any faith more 
tangible than views should seem to Unitarians to savor of 



I902.] Unitarianism and Religion in Education. 301 

dogma; but as they hate miracles so they detest dogma. We 
cannot help them about miracles, for Catholic ones will provok- 
ingly continue to be authentic; but as for dogma, we can per- 
haps assuage their pain. For what, after all, is dogma ? Why, 
merely Amber. Unitarians have seen a fly in amber, its legs, 
wings, its eyes, its very down, distinctly preserved, and for 
ever ? Well, what amber is to the fly that dogma is to truth. 
Catholics, who have eternal, unchanging truths, are glad to 
have them embalmed in the amber of dogma, secure from the 
vagaries of the human intellect, and whenever Unitarians shall get 
beyond doubt and denial and shall attain to any truth they will 
no longer hate dogma, but will love it and use it as Catholics 
do. Of course amber would be wasted upon Unitarian reli- 
gious views; for these, indeed, soap-bubbles would be suffi- 
ciently preservative. 

The colossal Catholic and the tiny Unitarian Churches are 
antipodal, the former proflFering to mankind all revealed truth, 
the latter dissuading from every particle of it. Between these 
extremes stand the non-Catholic denominations, each professing 
or rejecting, as the case may be, whatever of revelation com- 
mends itself or fails to please. At the great political upheaval 
of the sixteenth century, miscalled the Reformation, some 
Christian truths were abandoned ^d some were retained, and 
of the former some have since been regained. The Catholic 
Church, receiving from God all revealed truth, has never added 
to it nor ever can do so, and has never abandoned any of it 
nor ever will do so. Religious confusion has reigned increas- 
ingly among non-Catholic Christians, and a majority has long 
regretted that reform of the church in the sixteenth century, if 
needed at all, was not effected from within rather than by an 
outside fracture of unity. 

Far from needing any new churches, Americans already 
have too many, and the wish is growing for a blending of 
several in one by uniting on their agreements and dropping 
their differences. The sum of Protestant affirmation includes 
nearly all of revealed truth, and the sum of Protestant denial 
rejects nearly all of it. Unitarians alone among Christians re- 
ject it in toto. 

Which principle is calculated to attract Americans ? — affirma- 
tion or denial? all of revealed truth, or the denial of all of 
faith that Christendom has ever prized ? We do not feel in 
doubt about the answer that time will bring, and we fear Uni- 



302 Unitarianism and Religion in Education. [Dec. 

« 

tarians must submit to consisting of .agreeable local coteries of 
real nice people, whose loftiest ideal is judicious prosperityi 
with intent to " make the most pf and the best of this life, fot 
itself."* To this end an income is essential; it may be conr 
sidered a sine qua non. What indeed could a man do without 
one? He might have to toil, to drudge, to sweat, instead of 
musing, dreaming, soaring after , new views. Just try once to 
Imagine a sweaty Unitarian ! The idea is simply absurd ; not 
less so than the idea of a Unitarian Catechism. Not one human 
being in a thousand has now, or ever will have, an income; 
then why talk of inviting the masses to become Unitarian ? 
Neither Unitarians, nor the masses if their neophytes, would be 
able to endure association. No, leave the masses their motive 
of faith, and their consolation, the church. 

A far better way for Unitarians, if they really wish tp 
accomplish anything, would be to cast in their lot with the 
church that Almighty God promised and founded, and in whicb 
He is ever Really Present; that, receiving all revealed truth, 
was commissioned to convey it to the whole world, and alon$ 
has * converted to Christianity all peoples that ever have beea 
converted at all, and that speaks from nineteen centuries of 
wisdom and practical experience. 

It is not as if Unitarians were asked to make an alarming 
sacrifice. Their only loss would be that of doubt. And is 
doubt, in their esteem, to be sedulously cultivated for its own 
inherent beauty, rather than the transient and passing phase of 
a soul unsettled and unhappy? Catholics, from their cradles to 
their graves, never know a doubt in religion. Why should 
they, indeed, when their faith is based' upon the word of Al- 
mighty God? And even if doubt be so cruel a loss to Uni- 
tarians, they might in time feel quite weaned from it, and come 
actually to prefer faith ! We wish they would consider this 
matter seriously. Much must be unlearned and prejudices must 
be overcome, but in pursuit of truth the most cherished preju- 
dices may well be sacrificed, and Americans should be willing 
to follow truth wherever she may lead. We repeat that the 
best of anything, even of religion, is none too good for Ameri- 
cans ; that many of them are looking in the Catholic direction, 
and that we had rather see Unitarians lead than form the tail- 
end of a procession. 

• Rev. Dr. James Freeman Clarke. 



BY MARY F. NIXON-ROULET. 

" A saint of genlleaess and kindaess, 

Clieerful in penance and in precept winning, 
Patiently healing o[ their pride and blindness 



'HEN the people of Northumberland, ruled by Os-, 
wald, had embraced Christianity, Bishop Saint 
Aidan founded two monasteries. The holy house 
of Mailros, on the river Tweed, is now but the 
ruined Melrose, beloved of all lovers of Sir Wal- 
ter Scott ;- but the other monastery was in the island of Lin- 
disfame, a small island four miles from the coast, where 

" King Ida's castle, huge and square, 
From its tall rock looks down, down 
Upon the swelling ocean's frown." 

This ancient abbey, in its pristine beauty, is the stately pile 
described in "Marmion": 

" In Saxon strength the Abbey frowned, 
With massive arches broad and round. 
That rose alternate row and row, 
And ponderous columns, short and low, 
Built ere the careful art was known. 
By pointed atsle and shafted stalk. 
The arcades of an alleyed walk 
To emulate in stone. 

" On the deep walls the heathen Dane 
Had poured his impious rage in vain; 
And needful was such strength to these. 
Exposed to the tempestuous seas, 

VOL. LXXTI.— 30 



304 THE Saint of Lindisfarne. [Dec., 

Scourged by the winds' eternal sway, 
Open to rovers fierce as they. 
Which could twelve hundred years withstand 
Winds, waves, and Northern pirate's hand." 

Strong as was the ancient abbey, it gave way before the 
inroads of the great leveller Time, and in the eleventh century 



Ths PiCTVREEQVE Ruin of Ltndisfaknb. 

was replaced by a beautiful building which is to-day but a pic- 
turesque ruin, moss-covered, lichen-grown, the trailing vines 
which hide its crumbling stones swaying in the breezes which 
sweep through shattered arch and whisper heaven's vespers 
where once was heard the chanting of the holy men of Lindis- 
farne. 

Both Melrose and Lindisfarne are closely linked with saintly 
lives, and lovely memories twine about them of Cuthbert, Saint 
of God, a gentle soul, yet great with all the valorous virtues 
which mark the truly great. 

A " Border-man " was Cuthbert, bom in 687, in a humble 
border cottage, son of a border shepherd, and upon the bracken, 
furze, and heather- cove red hills he kept his father's sheep. 
Here there was 



1962.] The Saint of Lindisfarne. 305 

*'A world at rest — 
Sky streaked with purple, grove and craggy bield, 
And the smooth green of many a pendent field " ; 

a scene wild, yet peaceful with the restfulness of Nature, un- 
trammelled by man's conventionalities. 

In the silence and the mighty stillness of the moorland fens, 
with their solemnity and grand aloofness, strange thoughts came 
to the shepherd boy, — thoughts akin to the pure heavens above 
which smiled down upon him in clear and cloudless azure. 

Impressed by the holy lives of the monks of Melrose, the 
boy prayed much and thought deeply, and when he watched 
his sheep one fair and starry night — fair as the silent night of 
Bethlehem, when other shepherds watched their flocks — he saw 
the soul of St. Aidan carried by angels to heaven. 

Much impressed by this vision, the impression was deepened 
when he learned that it was at that very time that St. Aidan 
had died at Lindisfarne, and the boy determined to seek the 
monastic habit at Mailros. In the simple habit of the monks 
of St. Columba he lived the quiet life of a novice, earnest, 
zealous, devoted, a favorite with all. Finally, his vows taken, 
he went with Abbot Eata, when .that good man went to govern 
the new monastery of Rippon. 

To Cuthbert the abbot entrusted the care of the strangers' 
who visited the priory; and no matter how poor the guest, the, 
saint saw in him our Lord. Remembering that "inasmuch as- 
you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,. 
ye have done it unto Me," he greeted each with loving words,' 
washing his feet, waiting upon him, and showing his love for 
the Creator by his care of the creature. 

A pretty legend of this time is told of him. One cold,;, 
frosty morning he saw outside the monastery the figure of a 
young man, cold and poorly clad. Hastening to greet him, 
Cuthbert brought him to the warm hearth of the guest hall, 
washed his hands and feet, and hastened to prepare for the 
stranger food and raiment. With a lovely smile the strange 
guest thanked his entertainer; but when Cuthbert returned with 
his own breakfast to give to his visitor, he had disappeared, 
leaving upon the table three loaves of bread, — "whyte as ye 
lilye faire, scented as ye rose of June, and sweet as ye honey 
of ye clover bloome." When Cuthbert hurried to the casement 



3o6 The Saint of lindisfarne. [Dec., 

he taw freih snow upon the pathway, but not a single footstep 
to mar its whiteness. 

As a monk Cuthbert was zealous, but when he was made 
prior of Mailros he was none the less a simple, earnest servant 
of God. Not content with the mere work of keeping in peace 
and piety his monastery, he went out in the country round 
about and instructed the people, who everywhere flocked to hear 
his words. The name Cuthbert is from Yuthbertus — meaning 
worthy of God — and an old chronicle says: "He excelled all 
others by a most persuasive eloquence, while such a brightness 
appeared in his angelical face in delivering the word of God to 
the people that none of them durst conceal from him any part 
of their misbehavior, but all laid their consciences open before 
him, and endeavored by his injunctions and counsels to expi- 
ate the sins they had confessed by worthy fruits of penance." 



Af^er the saint had lived in Mailros some years the abbot 
removed him to Lindisfarne, upon the Holy Isle, making him 
prior of the large monastery. Here, upon the fair, calm isle, 
he could spend long days in work, and longer nights in prayer; 
and he grew to seem more like an angel than a man. One 



I902.] THE SAINT OF LINDISFARNE. 



The Vision of St. Cuthbbrt.— From a Triptych in the Lipxbmbourc. 

day, bearing one complain that he had been aroused from 
sleep, Cuthbert replied; "I deem myself obliged to any one 
who awakes me out of sleep, that I may rise to sing the 
praises of my dear God and labor for his honor." This spirit 
he carried into everything, never tiring in his labors and never 
tiring in his devotions. A brother monk, hearing him leave the 
■monastery one night, stole after him and tound the saint upon' 
the sea-sbore calling upon the wind and waves to praise their 
Creator, and singing praises himself until the morning broke. 

" Never wearied, never fretted. 
Always gentle was the saint," 

and all the legends and tales anent him but bring him closer 
to our hearts. 

Once there came a storm of snow and wind fiercer than 
winter's fiercest blasts, and Cuthbert was in a boat beside the 
rocky cliffs of his island home. 

" By land the snow bars our way, by sea the wind," grum- 
bled a young monk. 

"But the way to Heaven is always open," cheerily laughed 



3o8 THE Saint of Lindisfarne. [Dec, 

the saint; and in this cheersome humor he met all the ills and 
trials of life. 

To such a soul as his special devotions seem necessary, and 
St. Cuthbert felt the need of a close union with his God. With 
the consent of his abbot, he retired to the tiny isle of Fame, 
nine miles from Lindisfarne, to lead the life of a hermit. Here 
he built for himself a little hut, into which miraculously gushed 
a spring of fresh water. He sowed barley and wheat, reaped a 
plentiful crop which even the birds of the air never destroyed, 
and spent his life in prayer and praise. Very precious was the 
stillness and the solitude of nature to the holy man*, for 

"There is in stillness oft a magic power. 
To calm the breast when struggling tempests lower ; 
Touched by its influence, in the soul arise 
Diviner feelings, kindred to the skies. 
For this the hermit seeks the thickest grove. 
To catch the inspiring glow of heavenly love. 
There is a spirit singing high in air 
That lifts us high above all mortal care; 
No mortal measure swells its mystic sound. 
No mortal minstrel breathes such tones around ; 
The Angels hymn — the sovereign harmony. 
That guides the rolling orbs along the sky." 

But the saint was not long to be left in his beloved solitude. 
The fame of his counsels had spread too far abroad, and people 
flocked to his cell from far and near. Even the holy abbess 
and royal virgin Elfreda, of Whitby, came to seek spiritual 
advice, and all found him one who could lead 

''By holy paths and pleasant. 
Innocent souls and sinful souls forgiven. 
Toward the bright palace where our God is present, 
Throned in high heaven." 

So useful a man could not be left in obscurity, and when 
the synod of bishops met at Twiford, on the Alne, presided over 
by St. Theodorus, the ecclesiastics offered Cuthbert the episco- 
pal see of Lindisfarne. But such a dignity was unwished for by 
the humble hermit of Fame. Neither letters nor messengers 



1902.] THE Saint of Lindisfarne. 309 

availed, for he refused the perferment, choosing rather the bard 
toil and solitude of his island home. At last, King Egfrid 
and Bishop Thumwin, with many other dignitaries, sailed over 
to Fame and besought him not to refuse an honor which 



Durham Cathbdbal, whkrb tub Relics of St. Cuthbeit lib. 

would so greatly aid in the work of God's kingdom. To this 
the saint yielded, though with reluctance, and was consecrated 
Bishop at York by St. Theodorus. 

01 his life as a bishop many wonderful things are related, 
but in spirit he remained as simple and child-like as the quiet 
monk of Lindisfarne. Miracles are attributed to him, and he is 
called the Thaumaturgus of Britain. 

When death approached he saw the strange visitor to be 
near, resigned his bishopric and retired to his old solitude at 
Fame. Here he fell ill and, attended by two monks from Lin- 
disfarne, and receiving the viaticum from Abbot Herefrid, at 
midnight March 20, 687, he died as calmly and sweetly as he 
had lived. 

He was buried in the monastery of Lindisfarne, and at his 
tomb the Venerable Bede says that many miracles were per- 



3IO THE Saint of LINDISFARNE. [Dec, 

formed. Eleven years after his death his devoted monks raised 
his body to give it a fairer shrine, and found it still uncorrupt. 
The joints were pliable, the clothes fresh, the Venerable Bede 
relates, and placing the body in a new coffin, they made a 
shrine which rapidly became the favorite place of pilgrimage 
for all the countryside. 

In 875 the Danes invaded Lindisfarne, and the monks, 
fearing that the saint's body might fall into the sacrilegious 
hands of the cruel barbarians, took it secretly away to the 
mainland. Here they concealed it first in one spot and thea 
another, until many were the saint's wanderings. 

" O'er northern mountains, marsh and moor. 
From sea to sea, from shore to shore, ' 
Seven years St. Cuthbert's corpse they bore. 
They rested them in fair Melrose ; 
But, though alive he loved it well, 
Not there his relics might repose; 
For, wondrous tale to tell ! 
In his stone coffin forth he rides, 
A ponderous bark for river tides, 
Yet light as gossamer it glides. 
Downward to Tilmouth cell. 
Nor long was his abiding there. 
For southward did the saint repair; 
Chester- le- Street and Rippon saw 
His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw 
Hailed him with joy and fear. 
And, after many wanderings past. 
He chose his lordly seat at last. 
Where his cathedral huge and vast 
Looks down upon the Wear ; 
There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade. 
His relics are in secret laid." 

An old narrative quaintly words an account of the interring 
of the uncorrupted body of St. Cuthbert in the present cathe- 
dral of Durham : 

" In 1 104 it was determined to remove his remains to a 
shrine within the new church. Some doubts had been inconti- 



I902.] The saint of lindisfarne. 



DUBHAH CaTHEDKAL (FKOM THE WALK). 

nently expressed as to the permanence of his incorruptibility ; 
and to silence all such misgivings, the clergy, having met in 
conclave beside the saint's coffin the night before its intended 
removal, resolved to satisfy themselves by an actual inspec- 
tion. 

"After preparing themselves for the task by prayer, they 
removed with trembling hands the external fastenings, and 
opened the first coffin, within which a second was found covered 
with rough hides, and enclosing a third box, enveloped in 
folds of linen. On removing the lid of this last receptacle a 
second lid appeared, which upon being raised, with much fear 
and agitation, the swathed body of the saint lay before them in 
a perfect state. The monks fell flat on the ground, awed, well- 
nigh appalled, repeating amid a deluge of tears the Seven 
Penitential Psalms, and prayed the Lord not to correct them in 
his anger nor chasten them in his displeasure." 

The shrine of St. Cuthbert was one of the most splendid in 
England. It blazed with gold, with silver and gems, and the 



312 The Saint of Lindisfarne. [Dec, 

corporal he had used was enclosed in a silken bani^er and car- 
ried to the wars by the kings of England. It turned the fate 
of the day at Neville's Cross, 1346, when King David of Scot- 
land was defeated, and it was displayed when Edward III. took 
Berwick. No sight so inspired the soldiery with courage as the 
silken banner of the Holy Man of Lindisfarne. The quaintly 
xarven golden cross found upon his breast when his coffin was 
opened was an object of great reverence, and is to-day preserved 
at Durham, a beautiful specimen of early British workmanship. 

The cathedral which contained the saint's shrine is one of 
the handsomest in England. The town was an ancient British 
station, but not prominent until the relics of St. Cuthbert were 
brought thither. Thereafter it was famous. Its Bishop, Wal- 
cher, was created Earl of Northumberland, and for four hun- 
dred years his successors exercised an almost independent 
sway, over the Palatinate of Durham, though later the town 
suffered severely from the raids of the Scotch Borderers. 

The cathedral, dedicated to St. Andrew, is still one of the 
most famous of England's architectural beauties. In proportion 
it is rather too long for its width, being five hundred feet in 
length by eighty feet in width, though this singularity of out- 
line is broken by the transepts. In situation the cathedral has 
every natural advantage. Upon the River Wear, its base 
shrouded in foliage, about it 

''The hawthorn and the chestnut fling 
Their willing arms of vernal blossoms, full 
And light green leaves " ; 

while above tower the walls of the old castle, famous for many a 
siege and fray. 

The building of the cathedral has been slow, and its Nor- 
man architecture is somewhat marred by restorations and addi- 
tions, from its inception in 1095 till its recent restoration by 
Scott. 

The interior is solemn and beautiful. Entering by a curious 
portal, upon which is the grotesque iron knocker sounded by 
fugitives seeking sanctuary at the shrine of St. Cuthbert, one 
fully realizes the grandeur of the building when viewing the 
spacious nave. 



I903.] THE Saint of Ltptdisfarne. 313 

Dr. Johnson says it gave him " an impression of rocky soli- 
darity and undeterminate duration," and the effect is one of 
solemnity and grandeur. The wonderful arches are upborne by 
massive circular piers with zigzag and lattice-work mouldings 



The Interior is host solemn and beautiful. 

and square piers in subordinate shafts. In the pavement, at 
one end, is set a blue marble cross which marked the point 
beyond which women were not allowed to pass. 

Many are the famous dead who rest within these sacred 
walla. Here He the remains of the Venerable Bede, and an in- 
scription reads: 

" Hac sunt in fossa Baedae, 
Venerabilis Ossae." 

The vandals of the so-called "Reformation" defaced the 
cathedral, but even these worthy descendants of the marauding 
Danes respected the body of the saint, for his coffin was left 
closed and buried beneath the ruined shrine. 

Tradition says that none knew the exact place of his burial ; 
the secret being entrusted to but three monks at a time, and 



314 The Saint of Lindisfarne. [Dec., 

by them transmitted to other trusty successors ; hence Scott's 

lines : 

" And none may know the place 
Save of his holiest servants three, 
Deep sworn to solemn secrecy, 
Who share the wondrous grace." 

Safe hidden, here lay the Holy Man of Lindisfarne for three 
hundred years, until in May, 1827, his remains were again ex- 
humed, in the presence of a number of dignitaries, and his 
skeleton found entire, wrapped in linen, his cross upon his 
breast. 

His shrine at Durham is a marvel of white marble carving 
and traceries, bas-relief and sculpture, and one of the gems of 
that fairest of cathedrals upon the wooded banks of the wind- 
ing River Wear. 



1902.] A Song of Praise. 315 




p Song op ^i^aisb. 

{For Noeltide.) 

BY MARIE RYLMAN. 

" All Thy works praise Thee, O LorcL" 

AM grateful {or the friendship 
Of a loyal-hearted friend ; 

I am grateful for the loving 
Of the Love which knows no end. 

I am grateful for the daisies 
Which ope their eyes at morn, 

And for Robin Redbreast's piping, 
And the springing of the com. 

I am grateful for the Summer 
With its perfume and its breeze, 

For the lilacs and the roses, 
And the oaks and linden trees. 

I am grateful to the Giver 
For the soft and shining grass. 

For the clover and the blossoms. 
Which give greeting as we pass. 

I am grateful for the . Autumn, 

With its many-tinted leaves, 
With its crimson fruit, and purple. 

And its garnered yellow sheaves. 

I am grateful for the Winter, 
With its pleasant Christmas cheer, 

And sweet words of consolation 

From the friends, both far and near. 

I am grateful for the loved ones 
Who have filled the vacant chairs; 

I am grateful for the angels, 
Who my joy and gladness share. 



316 THE Basis OF A Catholic Novel. [Dec, 



THE BASIS OF A CATHOLIC NOVEL 

BY ROSE F. EGAN. 

IUI bono ? Half despairing, half expectant is the 
tone of the Catholic literary critics asking the 
question concerning the anomaly known as the 
Catholic novel. There is small wonder that they, 
having arrived in our history at a period of 
criticism and destruction, and looking back upon a past that is 
well marked by utter artistic failures, should be tempted to 
thus cry out. 

The Catholic novel is of an origin slightly more recent than 
that of the class, and it has since pretty closely maintained its 
strict independence of spirit and individuality of thought. 
Brought into existence in the first half of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, in the days when, religious reaction having set in, many 
noble souls were finding true peace in the Catholic faith, it 
caught the polemical spirit of the age, and so transmitted it 
with increasing vigor as the promulgation of doctrines and the 
spread of religion added heat to the discussions. 

In England, the theme was most often the trials of the 
high-born convert; in Ireland, the misfortunes of the evicted 
Catholic tenant, and in America, either the same as the first 
or the struggles of the emigrant to keep his faith in the New 
World. But always present, in whatever form the story might 
take, was the evident aim of the writer to glorify his church 
as the Protector of Truth. Discussion after discussion filled the 
pages most monotonously, and the adventures of impossible 
heroes and heroines, who possessed but two qualities, those of 
noble purity and intense love of faith, drew copious tears. 
But who, whose youth has been nourished by such literary 
pabulum, has not felt in later years how vital and how abid- 
ing must be the power of that faith that led many of its sons 
and daughters to give up all prospects of national fame and 
pecuniary reward, that they might teach the truth and beauty 
of their holy church ? 

That this sort of novel, at present, utterly fails to satisfy 

our Catholic people is not surprising for many obvious reasons'', 

it the fact that several of our most, prominent litterateurs are 



I902.] The Basis of a Catholic Novel. 317 

questioning whether it be worth the while to spend our ener- 
gies on creating a Catholic school of fiction is, to say the 
least, worthy of our consideration. 

The production of an artistic novel, as of any other work of- 
fiction, however, can never depend solely on the will of man, 
whether critic or writer ; it must be the outcome of a long 
train of circumstances, which have inspired a genius, moulded his 
thought, and made ready an expectant and sympathetic world. 

Consequently it is our duty, first to find out not what 
should enter into a Catholic novel to make it artistic, but to 
see if such a work of fiction can be the outcome of conditions 
at present existent or probable in the near future. 

It is not difficult to discover the necessary conditions for 
the production of a literature that will live, — and that, let it be 
understood, is our concern at this time ; for the same funda- 
mental principles which underlay the making of the Iliad and 
the writing of Shaksperian drama will underlie the creation of 
a probable artistic work, which may loosely be called the 
Catholic novel. What sort of a novel the new one must be 
according to natural conditions we shall see as we progress. 

On two main factors is all literature, whether great or little, 
dependent, and these are the race and the age. Art is a 
result, not a cause, and consequently only a race that has had 
a history that abounds in life and color, and in great historic 
enterprise, can possess the sources of emotional power that im- 
pel its gifted to artistic work. Further than this: art is the 
product of years, of centuries mayhap, not the work of ah 
instant, and therefore it must be preceded by many tentative 
works that intrinsically are failures, but that historically are 
successes, in that they serve as models and sources of inspira- 
tion to the perfect genius. 

That the germ of Shaksperian drama is to be found in the 
mystery plays of Coventry and York is fully apparent to the 
student who has traced with absorbing interest the gradual 
production of a stable national dramatic literature, and that the 
Divina Commedia is simply the climax of a long line of 
mediaeval epics that carried the traveller through the super- 
natural regions is the evidence of literary history that no one 
dreams of. doubting. On the other hand, America has yet to 
produce its great literature, because its short national and liter- 
ary history has not hitherto offered to genius the essential 
basis of experience. 



3i8 The Basis of a Catholic Novel. [Dec, 

But the inspiration comes not only from the race, but from 
an age like that of Pericles, or that of Elizabeth, which throbs 
with life, which glows with high ideals, which is animated with 
something supernal, and which, in consequence of all these, is 
centred around some great idea for which men strive to live and die. 

When national enthusiasm has run high, we have had an 
i^schylus, a 'Sophocles, a Shakspere, and a Calderon to write 
immortal dramas ; and when religious feeling has waxed strong, 
a Homer, a Virgil, a Dante, and a Milton have given expres- 
sion in epic to the noblest aspirations of their souls. Nor do 
we have to go far to find the spirit that has produced the 
novel, the creation of the nineteenth century. For it is the 
spirit of a more self-centred age which regards man himself as 
the most fitting source of inspiration and object of glorification ; 
the spirit which has made the novel, the chief paradox of the 
centuries, in its noblest form, the expression of man as keenest 
egotist and keenest altruist And only such novels as manifest 
this deep, abiding interest in humanity have survived the storms 
of popularity and the abuse of critics. Les MiserabUs, Adam 
Bede, Henry Esmond^ and The Scarlet Letter deal with widely 
varying conditions in life, but none the less do they represent 
human beings acting and reacting upon each other, with all the 
elements of good and evil mingled in their nature, with man's 
proneness to sin and his ability to rise from the depths. 

But all great literature is the outcome of an age that not 
only centred itself around one great cause, but that also in its 
vision of power both felt the tremendous moral responsibility of 
life and was ever conscious of the existence of a supreme, 
guiding Power. 

Hence the novel, from the very fact that it is the result of 
man's interest in man and, therefore, a transcription of men in 
relation to each other, necessitates the presence and the influ- 
ence of these two factors in the form of a higher, determining 
Power and a basis or standard of morality. Even the flashiest 
dime novel requires these elements ; unconsciously present they 
may be, but the greatness of any work may be gauged by them. 

The novelist cannot mentally create either of these and 
make his work an artistic success, for in order that his ideas 
may be clearly understood, he must explain them and thus give 
to his 'writing the character of exposition rather than of artistic 
narration. Nor can he for like reason revive the bygone 
beliefs of the past, as many have done who have tried to make 



I902.] The Basis of a Catholic Novel. 319 

the Greek view of life predominant once ' more. To make his 
work one that ' will be universal, and therefore artistic in its 
scope, he must base it on beliefs that are within the reach of 
the understanding and the appreciation of his age. 

But this is not all ; the age gives to the novelist much, but 
he has the right and the power to give expression to that only 
which he recognizes with something akin to poetic vision as 
the absolute truth. Unlesls the underlying spiritual and moral 
principles be eternally true, his work lacks the second essential 
element of universality which will make it applicable to several 
centuries hence quite as forcibly as to the present. 

The dramas of Wycherly and Congreve are models of literary 
finish, but they are unnoticed by all save the student of literary 
history simply because they are the productions of an age in 
which the spiritual nature was crushed in order that the physical 
might reign undisturbed, and in which, therefore, no satisfying 
view of life was evolved. And, likewise, there are novels being 
written to-day which cannot exist, although actuated by the 
deepest and most passionate love of humanity. Tolstoi may 
cause the cultured of nations to shudder and weep, he may 
rouse men to a deeper sense of their duty, but his work, be- 
cause it is based upon principles which are abnormal, and there- 
fore not eternally true, cannot exist. 

The fallibility of man and the natural beht of an age will 
prevent us from ever expecting the whole truth in any one 
work, but artistic selection — a power that is given to every 
great genius — must at all times be clearly evidenced. The age 
may give false covering to the truth — as, for instance, the 
Greek Nemesis — but the foundation of fact must be there, in 
order that the work can arouse and satisfy the coming generations. 

And who is the genius but that man in whom are harmon- 
iously blended the radiating forces of the moment ? — but he 
who, because of unsurpassed, native capacities, largeness of in- 
tellect, greatness of heart and depth of soul, is able to grasp 
most securely the inspirations of his daily life, and who, because 
of the impelling influences of cultivated talent, is able to give 
noblest expression to the animating ideals of his race and age ? 
It is only he who can live in spirit the life of the race, and 
who is in keenest touch, with the ideals of his age, that can 
produce a great literary work. Many other things are neces- 
sary before he can write, but these are the indispensable forces 
without which he cannot create lasting work, 

TOL. LXXVI.— 21 



320 The Basis of a Catholic Novel. [Dec, 

Among many persons it is evident that a doubt exists con- 
cerning the continuance of the spirit which has produced the 
novel as an actuating force in our daily life. Man can no 
longer be the centre of interest, they say, in the midst of the 
present reaction from the extreme individualism of the past century. 

It certainly does not take an extraordinarily keen observer 
to note that increased centralization of power is the movement 
which is affecting nearly every phase of human life at present. 
The formation of huge industrial trusts, the efforts to promote 
religious unity, and the increasing power of the world's rulers 
are only a few of the many signs of the times. 

But let us look at the other side. The industries of the 
country are practically coming into the control of a few men, 
yet only a short time ago one of the largest of these trusts 
offered shares to all of its employees in order that they might 
be directly benefited by the accruing capital, and thereby set an 
example which, it is said, is expected to be followed soon by 
many others. 

It is quite apparent that governmental power is becoming 
strongly centralized, yet it is quite as evident that this power is 
becoming more than ever an influence in affairs which concern 
not the state but man most intimately, such as education, 
charities, and the like. And what cause is inducing so many 
brilliant men and women to centre all their energies in an 
attempt to bring about religious unity ? It is certainly not a 
unity of religious doctrines that they desire — they see only 
futility in that — but the unity of effort in the promotion of 
human good. 

A glance at every other phase of life reveals the same con- 
dition of affairs. Organization and combination are the cries 
of the age, whose manifest aim is to reach the individual most 
effectively by concentration of power, and in bringing about 
this change of point of view, the method is necessarily altered, 
although the spirit is still regnant. For this spirit, however, to 
inspire great artistic work it must, as we have seen, have in 
addition the propelling force of strong emotional power which 
is based upon what is most spiritual in life — the conceptions of 
Deity and of moral law. The institution from which this power 
must be originally derived must, therefore, be that one which 
works most beneficently for the spiritual uplifting of humanity. 
Then comes the question. Whence is this to be derived ? 

Certainly it cannot come from the industrial trust, which 



I902.] THE Basis of a Catholic Novel. 321 

endeavors solely to build man up materially ; neither can it come 
from the government, which is based upon the utilitarian princi* 
pie of the greatest good for the greatest number, nor from that 
modern education which seeks to divorce the spiritual and the 
intellectual man. 

But two other institutions, the social and religious, remain 
for our consideration, and in reaching them we have to come to 
the heart of the present conflict, which is the result of efforts to 
discover in one or the other of these institutions the means of 
social salvation. 

The thinkers of half a century ago hoped to save society 
by the scientific application of forces within itself which would 
conduce to man's material and intellectual uplifting. Fourierism 
and many other forms of communism are examples of this. 
The utter fruitlessness of these schemes soon became apparent, 
because in the moral nature of man lay forces which had not 
been taken deeply into account and which, therefore, made suc^ 
cess impossible. 

Mrs. Browning's protest in " Aurora Leigh " — " The soul de- 
velops from within " — was but the utterance of a feeling that 
was gradually taking hold of the more intelligent classes, and 
that soon manifested itself in the form of the Christian socialism 
of Kingsley and others. But even this union of social and 
religious forces failed to give desired results. There was still 
lacking one essential element, and man has been groping for it 
for several years. And, it seems good to say, according to 
present tendencies, that groping has not been in vain. For 
even this movement toward social salvation is gradually coming 
under the dominant influence of the age, centralization of 
power, and men are, in consequence, searching with all the force 
of their being for that law which shall make it possible for man 
to attain his ideal state. 

It is at once evident that such a law cannot be found in 
the sects of Protestantism, which, ever at war among themselves, 
seem only to have survived until the present day that the 
world might view their mighty failure with unimpaired vision. 
Nor can it be found among that devoted body of men and 
women who have learned from the bitter experiences of Protest- 
antism, during its nearly four centuries of existence, the stultify^ 
ing power of theological unrest, and who in consequence have 
cast aside all concern fo^ spiritual authority that they could de- 
vote their whole time to the promotion of human good. 



i 



322 The Basis of a Catholic Novel. [Dec, 

The only possible conclusion is so surprising that we shall 
quote it first in the words of Miss Scudder, a Protestant, who 
in her scholarly work, Social Ideals in English Letters^ has 
carefully traced present tendencies in social reform. In one 
place she says: 

" Consciously or unconsciously, men have been reverting from 
the revolutionary idea of freedom, which regards it as the 
natural birthright of humanity and each individual, to the Chris- 
tian ideal so magnificently set forth in Dante's Divina Com- 
media, which views it as the great gift to be won, either by 
society or by the man, as the result of long discipline and will- 
ing acceptance of righteous law." 

And to quote another passage, in which she discusses the 
Oxford Movement : " But looking back in the light of the 
striking social development in its recent phase, we can clearly 
see that it carried with it social implications of the most radi- 
cal order. The organism of which the Oxford leaders were 
supremely conscious was not society at large, but the Catholic 
Church; yet that church was dear to them only as the ideal 
expression of the human race, the fellowship which realized the 
will of God for all his children. Their belief in a church visi- 
ble, a mighty association of men actuated by unworldly motives 
and avowedly indifferent to fleshly good, had a deep social im- 
pressiveness, and the longing for coherence, for unity, for 
authority, which we have found so potently at work in the 
thought of all men of the future, was the chief intellectual fea- 
ture of the Oxford Movement." 

Although it must be understood, Miss Scudder does not say 
explicitly that the direction of modern thought is toward 
Catholicism per se, she does acknowledge that the movement is 
toward a condition of affairs, stability of authority, comprehen- 
siveness of aim and unity of spirit, that has been and can now 
be found in the Catholic Church. And we, in the spirit of 
faith, can logically go further, and say that in no other institu- 
tion can this condition ever be found, for it is the divinely 
endowed possession of our church. But further, these attributes 
are results, not causes, as many modern thinkers seem to be- 
lieve ; they are but the links between faith and action, the 
direct results alike of the Divine revelation of the truths of our 
Faith, and of the beneficence of the application of these beliefs 
in our daily life ; in many ways it is evident, the ideal aspects 
of our church are a potent factor in life. 



I902.] The Basis of a Catholic novel. 323 

It is not, however, in the nature of thought long to remain 
superficial. Now that the world is fast coming to a realization 
of the fact that it is searching for unity, comprehensiveness of 
aim, and authority, the thought must inevitably turn downward 
instead of onward, and " In what ? " become the vital question 
instead of " How ? " 

The process will more naturally be selective rather than 
progressive, and the view of life thus evolved be, in its highest 
form, the combination of conceptions and beliefs that have the 
strongest and most beneficent motive power in action because 
of their intimate connection with the problems in hand. 

That such a process has already a beginning in the minds 
of thought leaders is slowly becoming manifest, particularly in 
regard to the idea of that which has previously been called the 
higher determining Power. 

In the literature of the nineteenth century we may find 
expressed at least four distinct conceptions of this nature. 
One, that of a blind Chance determining the fate of man ; an- 
other, a fixed heredity and environment which unalternably 
shapes a man's career ; stlU another, which makes man's destiny 
lie in his own inborn power to rise to better things; and the 
last, that of a loving Providence which guides, which uplifts, and 
which punishes a humanity that in its strongest moments is most 
vulnerable. 

Of these blind Chance is, undoubtedly, the weakest, for it is 
the result of a narrow view of lif^, bred in the author by his 
not being pregnated with a feeling for and insight into the 
underlying laws of life. His work is merely a juxtaposition of 
events, arranged so as to bring all to a satisfactory conclusion. 
Strange to say, we may see this in many of the Catholic novels 
of the past to be the means of bringing about the conversion 
of one or more prominent characters. It is not, however, a 
result of beliefs, but of limited imagination and intellect. The 
second and third conceptions are at the antipodes of thought, 
one representing the overpowering influence of forces without, 
and the other of forces within man. But^ like the radii of a 
circle, they are directed to the one point, which is, undoubtedly, 
Atheism. Not that the chief expositors of these ideas, George 
Eliot or Victor Hugo, ever certainly reached that point, but 
they did much to vitalize the theories which had that tendency. 

And now, at the beginning of the twentieth century, noth- 
ing seems to be so clearly and so potently proved as that 



324 THE BASIS OF A CATHOLIC NOVEL. [Dec. 

Atheism is utterly [irrational and illogical. Multitudes, it is un- 
fortunately true, are taking refuge in the mazes of agnosticism, 
while other multitudes, it is wonderfully good to relate, un- 
daunted, are pushing forward impetuously, certain that truth 
will come. For scientists have been forced to declare the 
necessary existence of an Omnipotent First Cause, and the psy- 
chologists likewise, baffled in their search to locate materially 
the higher processes of the intellect, are gradually being com- 
pelled to admit the existence of an Infinite Governing and In- 
spiring Mind. Further than this, a third conception, that of 
the Fatherhood of God, is gaining a footing in the minds of 
the more religious men of all creeds. It is an idea that has 
been evolved in close connection with the other beliefs of the 
age, the brotherhood of man and the need of authority. Alto- 
gether, there seems little reason to doubt that the trend of 
thought is toward a reaffirmation of the truth of the God who 
has ever been the inspiring force of Catholicity. 

With these two facts as a basis, that the movement of 
thought is directed toward Catholic ideals and toward Catholic 
conception of the Infinite, we may be able to realize how potent 
must be the influence of Catholic belief in evolving the age's 
standard of morality. What this will be no one can accurately 
say, but it is certain that it will be determined both by the 
ideals of the age and by the duties of the time necessitated by 
the solution of the social problem. 

A few observations on tKe present tendency of moral ideas 
will therefore suffice. We have seen how the present dominant 
love of humanity is gradually arousing in men a deeper love 
for God, a more compelling recognition of their dependence 
upon him. It was in entire sympathy with this feeling that 
Tennyson penned that noble line, "Our wilk are ours to make 
them Thine," which is judged by many as one of the most 
potent expressions in nineteenth century poetry — an expression 
that touches the very keynote of Catholic morality, the nature 
of man's relations to his Maker. 

Secondly comes the question of man's relation to man, and 
we find thinkers from Carlyle and Ruskin down to the multi- 
tude of the present day, proclaiming the beneficent and saving 
influence of works, the very dogma of Catholic morality, to 
which the leaders of the Protestant revolution in the sixteenth 
century thought they had given the death-blow. And what 
need is there to reflect upon these and a hundred other facts 



I902.] The Basis of a Catholic Novel, 325 

of like nature ? The doubter may ask, as Luke Delmege, our 
newest hero in Catholic fiction, what shall be the saving force ? 
To which we can do no better than to give Father Cussen's 
answer, "The God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob 1" 
with but this slight reminder, " In His good time 1 " 

Such, then, being the bent of the age, it is next necessary 
for us to consider the questioa of race as a factor in the pro- 
duction of a great literature. But our treatment of this subject 
shall be limited, considering, for obvious reasons, only the Eng- 
lish-speaking peoples. 

At the outset it should be clear that it is not the longest 
lived race that produces literature, but that one which, with 
sufficient basis of experience, has reached the climax of its 
power and its influence. Decadence has not yet appeared, else 
literature cannot be produced. 

For this reason one is tempted to erase England from the 
list. It is undoubtedly most true that in this country social 
problems have been most widely discussed in masterly works 
that have indelibly impressed like thought in other nations, and 
particularly in our own. But it is further true that these large 
principles for the uplifting of humanity have not been put into 
active use by her government. The misrule of Ireland and the 
gradual destruction of the Boers are the most striking testimo- 
nies of this fact. 

On the other hand, the history of the last half- century in 
America shows a different state of affairs. The underlying 
cause of both Civil and Spanish- American wars, although hidden 
from sight at times, was the ever-present, onward urging motive 
of a great love for humanity — a motive that was eminently more 
characteristic of the race than of the individual. 

Also the national division, which, during the years following 
the Civil War, prevented the full glow of enthusiasm necessary 
to produce great literature, can now no longer be called a fact. 
For to-day North and South are at last united in spirit as they 
have never been before, and East and West are being gradually 
brought together by the ^consciousness of interests that lie be- 
yond them. 

As to the outlook in Ireland, one cannot speak with assur- 
ance. Deprived of Home Rule, she still maintains her national 
existence and her racial ideals. No longer broken up into fac- 
tions, her people, now united under the guidance of born lead- 
ers and noble men, are demanding not pleading for their natural, 



326 THE BASIS OF A CATHOLIC NOVEL. [Dec.. 

God-given rights. There is the strength of a master now in 
the Emerald Isle that bodes good; good to country, to reli- 
grion, and to art And even in the midst of her own tremen- 
dous labors, it is worthy to note, her people have not forgotten 
those suffering more terribly than they — a sure proof of true 
philanthropy. 

National enthusiasm and racial love of humanity, together 
with definite ideals and definite spiritual conceptions, are bound 
to produce, in time, the artistic novel, provided one thing more 
be at hand, and that concerns both the setting and the incidents 
which make up the work. 

There has been in all literature a marked difference in this 
regard between the average literary worker and the great artist. 
The energies of the former have been spent in fashioning the 
character, the setting, and the details, which united shall seem 
to him to produce the ideal novel. But the latter, eager to ex- 
press himself, has subserved to his uses all the rich lore of the 
past or the present, whether gathered from legend, from litera- 
ture, from history, or from life, selecting with one single thought 
only those materials which are in thorough accord with his own 
ideals. Where then, we may ask, can the coming genius find 
a richer mine whence to draw golden illustrations of his noble 
theme than in the resplendent history of our own Church — an 
institution divinely established and consecrated to the work of 
uplifting mankind?. Other than an affirmative answer seems 
impossible, when we consider that it was the church that nour- 
ished and inspired, among countless others, such men as Paul, 
as Hildebrand, as Bernard of Clairvaux, as Francis of Assisi, 
and as Ignatius of Loyola — men whose lives of self-sacrifice are 
replete with glowing incident, tragic sorrows, and transcendent 
hope. The mists of error and of ignorance which have long 
clouded these names are gradually being dispelled, with the 
happy result that we are now able to see them as men like 
ourselves, who raised themselves to God by means within the 
reach of us all. 

That this adaption of Catholic life is the trend of the present 
day novel is evidenced . by the avidity with which such works 
as Quo Vadis, The CardinaVs Snuff- Box ^ The Right of Way^ 
The Eternal City^ Eleanor, and many others, have been perused 
and accepted or rejected, it would seem, according to how far 
they gave sympathetic coloring to that life. And at this point 
-s the question which first interested us, " Is it worth our 



I902.] The Basis of a Catholic Novel. 327 

while to spend our energies on creating a Catholic school of 
fiction ? " On the other hand, the recently revived tendencies 
of thought and ideals force us to ask another question : " Is it 
worth while to think only of ourselves when those separated 
from us are working toward a point where they will soon re- 
ceive, not only sympathetically but eagerly, what we may have 
to say in illumination of the problem in hand ? " 

There can be no doubt that in our church resides in full 
those ideals and conceptions toward which the world is moving, 
and in the acceptance of which, sooner or later, man will find 
his social salvation. To vitalize these truths, to make them 
potent in influence, seems the duty of the moment. In his deep- 
reaching essays Bishop Spalding gives us a glimpse of the vast 
possibilities of an educated Catholic people. He is doing more 
to enliven the Catholic truth, and to show its application to 
modern life, than any writer since this era has begun. 

" We have a combat to sustain," once said St. Basil. " To 
prepare ourselves for it we must seek the company of the poets, 
the historians, and the orators." And, had he lived in our time, 
he might add the novelists, in whose hands seem largely to be 
the literary possibilities of the day. Granting that we do our 
duty, it seems inevitable that there will come the expression of 
our ideals in literature, growing more spontaneous and invigor- 
ating as the artistic feeling develops. 

Already two novels which have appeare4 give us assurance 
of what is to come. For in My New Curate and in Luke Del- 
mege, the works of an Irish priest, published in America, we 
can mark the beginning of new things in fiction. Father Shee- 
han has shown us Catholic life in such a manner as to touch 
the responsive chords in every human heart. He has portrayed 
our religion as a living, breathing, vital force, that searches in- 
to the very depths of life, that awakens man to a sense of 
good and evil, and that gives to him an explanation of all life's 
sorest trials and most galling temptations. They, are books 
that are the result of influences that have long been at work, 
but that likewise mark a turn in a new direction. They show 
us the power and far-reaching influence of novels based on Cath- 
olic truth, and illumined by Catholic ideals. They strengthen 
us with the sense of our present responsibilities, they rejoice 
us by giving rise to thoughts of what, in God's goodness, seems 
yet to come. 



328 The Voyageur's Story. [Dec, 



She Uoyageui^'s Stoi^y. 

BY THOMAS WALSH. 

IT was cold, ab, very cold, 
Wsieu; good Pere La Brosse was old 
And worn; and there beside his fire 
He told us that the mission bell 
At midnight would ring out his knell 
To Tadousac, from yonder spire. 

He was so calm, M'sieu, so bright of eye, 
We thought he spoke our hearts to try, 

And merely smiled at all he said ; 
But when the midnight brought the sound 
We hurried back, mon Dieu, and found 

That at the altar he was dead. 

Then we recalled each dying word : 
How we should let him lie unstirred 

Till when the break of day allowed 
We could to Isle-aux-Coudres away 
To fetch the Pere Campain to lay 

His body in the priestly shroud. 

We voyageurs knew little fear, 
M'sieu ; but not for many a year 

Such winds had swept St. Lawrence' shore ; 
The lightning raked the skies with fire, 
The mountains shook with echoes dire. 

As from the wave-lashed beach we bore. 

All day we battled ; round the boat, 
Like wolves upon a jaguar's throat. 

The waters lashed and curled; 
We tacked and tacked our battered skiff 
Past Poini-aU'Bouleau' s dismal cliff, 

Till darkness swallowed up the world. 



I902.] THE VOYAGEUR'S STORY. 

But God, APsieu, must win at last; 
By Mont Eboulements we got past 

With aid of many a vow and prayer; 
We saw on Isle-aux-Coudres stand 
The Pere Campain with book in hand 

At daylight, waiting for us there. 

And as we homeward bore again 
He told us how at midnight, when 

He slept, some ghostly hand had tolled 
His bell, and, visioned o'er his head. 
He saw that Pcre La Brosse was dead 

Within his lonely chapel old. 

Ah I it's a tale this many a year, 
ATsteu^ the whirlwind's mad career 

That swept our little vessel back ; 
For Fere La Brosse that very day 
We buried where his body lay, 

Before the shrine at Tadousac. 

Since then no voyageur would fare 
Past V Anse-a-r Eau without a prayer 

To bonne Sainte Anne ; or fail to say 
His Ave when he hears the bell 
Of Pere La Brosse like music swell 

Across the roads to Hudson Bay. 

M»anl ArKngten. N, J. 



One Midnight Mass. [Dec., 



ONE MIDNIGHT MASS. 

BY JAMES M. KEATING. 

I HAD been sitting for some time in the shelter of 
a dismantled fishing smack that was lying on the 
shore, its days of usefulness past, watching an 
old man who was trimming his boat and making 
ready for departure. I wondered how one so 
old could venture alone on the bay in such weather, for quite a 
gale was blowing. Out beyond the protected harbor the bil- 
lows rolled and tossed in a most threatening manner. Some- 
thing in the garb and movements of the old gentleman made 
me think that I had seen him before, and that he was not an 
ordinary fisherman, though he went about his work in quite a 
sailor-like fashion. 

When his sail was ready for hoisting be gave a tug at the 
halyards and then, without turning, called me by name and 
said, " If you are not too tired you might give an old friend a 
pull on this rope." I recognized the voice, and in less time 
than it takes to mention it I was in the boat giving and 
receiving in return a warm hand-clasp, not from a fisherman in 
the usual sense of the word but from Father Hoyle, who is 
known and revered from one end of the peninsula to the 
other. 

"Why, father, what in the world brought, you over here? 
I mistook you for a fisherman." 

" Young man," he said, " the Prince of Apostles was a 
fisherman. So also am I ; I hsh for souls, and it is just for 
that purpose I am here. My old friend Father Gardner is sick ; 
he is getting most too old for active duty anyway. He wrote 
me that if I had a foot under me to come and help him over 
the holidays. A young man lately from Rome, whom the 
bishop is breaking. in, will take care of my people while I am 
away. A passing boat left a message here this morning! ^^^ & 
priest was wanted at the old Mansell plantation across the 
bay. The Mansells were decent people. I said Mass in their 
house many a time twenty-five years ago. I hear it is sadly 



I902.] One Midnight Mass. 331 

altered since. Father Gardner is sick, so I arrived just in 
time. 

*' All the men of the village are off with the fishing fleet or 
in the lumber camps; otherwise some of them would accom- 
pany me. Not that I have any fear, as I am a pretty fair 
sailor. It is some one to be in the boat with me that I would 
like. Maybe you would come along ? " 

He looked at me quizzically. I looked out over the 
threatening waters. He saw my hesitation. " Never mind, my 
son ; I was only joking. Sure I have made many longer trips 
than this by myself." 

That decided me. " I am with you," I said. " How far 
is it?" 

" Well, it is not quite to Cuba, so you can compose your 
face and not look so frightened." 

I gave a tug at the halyards and said, '' Hoist away ; I am 
willing to follow Father Hoyle to Patagonia." 

"I thought you wouldn't let me go alone. To tell you the 
truth, I was very lonesome, and if the case was not really ur- 
gent I would hardly venture to make the trip by myself. It is 
now ten o'clock. I hope to reach Mansell's place by sundown. 
As for this breeze, it is nothing to be afraid of; it will only 
rush us through that much quicker. I saw the time that I 
liked nothing better than a day in a boat, and the stiffer'the 
breeze the better; but of late years — " Here he paused and 
looked wistfully out over the [bay ; looking back, perhaps, to 
the time when, full of the ardor of youth and zeal for religion, 
he volunteered for the then wild Florida mission ; and, truth to 
tell, parts of it are little better to-day. He roused himself 
with a " Well, well ! it is childish I am getting. I fear the 
bishop will soon be retiring me; though God knows when 
we are retired in this country it is generally in a wooden box 
we go." 

Poor Soggarth ! And there are many such among the blis- 
tering sands and malarious swamps of the South, and parching 
plains of the West, toiling along uncomplainingly in the cause 
of Christ for the souls of men. 

After hoisting the sail, and examining closely to see that 
everything was in good condition and working properly, he 
left me in the boat while he went back to see Father Gardner. 
When he returned I inferred from his actions and studious 



332 One Midnight Mass. [Dec, 

avoidance of conversation that he had fetched the Blessed Sac- 
rament. 

As he was about to shove off ]he paused and said : '* Have 
you still courage enough for the trip, my son ? It may be six 
o'clock to-morrow morning by the time we get back here 
again." 

I hesitated as I compared my comfortable room at the 
hotel, and the lazy loiterings about the sleepy little town which 
I had contemplated, with a day and night spent in an open 
boat on the treacherous gulf. Father Hoyle looked at me 
questioningly. I noted his gray hair and spare figure. Surely, 
I thought, if one so old and seemingly frail can make such 
a journey I can also. Then, could I refuse the offer of escort 
to the Sacred Presence that I knew was concealed in the pyx, 
the string of whose case I saw peeping above Father Hoyle's 
collar ? I answered, " I am with you, father." He smiled in a 
pleased way; thsn with a "Mind yourself!" gave the boat 
a vigorous push, leaping aboard at the same time. In another 
moment our boat was speeding across the white- capped waters 
of the bay on its errand of mercy. 

The trip had more of excitement than comfort in it. Many 
times I trembled for our safety, and once, when the deck was 
almost perpendicular and the lee rail under water, I suggested, 
in i voice whose anxiety I could not conceal, the advisability 
of shortening sail. Father Hoyle shook his head and replied: 
"There's some one dying across the bay; we can get there 
none too soon. I pray God we may arrive in time." 

It was exactly four o'clock when Father Hoyle dropped sail 
at the mouth of Rattlesnake Bayou, which, from its narrow and 
serpentine windings, well deserved its name. An hour's poling 
and rowing brought us to the Mansell place. An old colored 
man who all his life had been a faithful son of the church was 
dying. Father Hoyle immediately prepared him for the end. 
After administering the Sacraments he repeated the prayers for 
the dying. The faithful old black passed away a few minutes 
later, clasping the crucifix in one hand, the other held tenderly 
between the palms of Father Hoyle. 

When we again reached the mouth of the bayou it was so 
dark that we could see but a few rods ahead. The roar of the 
waters rushing up the bay and the wind through the pines, to 



I902.] One Midnight Mass. 333 

me, at least, was frightful. That, with the darkness, completely 
unnerved me. I turned to Father Hoyle and said : " Father, 
you surely will not attempt to cross the bay to-night?" 

He looked at the sky, which was overcast, then at me, and 
replied : '' I must go. To-morrow will be Christmas, and people 
will come for miles along the coast to hear Mass and receive 
the Sacraments. I also promised Father Gardner that I would 
surely be back in the morning to say Mass for him, as he is 
not able to leave his bed. God help usl I never thought I 
would see the time that a bit of wind like this would make me 
hesitate; and, while I am not really afraid, I can't deny feel- 
ing a strange quiver — old age, perhaps, running through me. 
A man going on seventy years has n't the heart he had at 
thirty." 

His large, beaming eyes, undimned by age, had now a very 
thoughtful expression. ''My son, I must make this trip alone, 
as there may be some danger, and I do not wish you to share 
it You can go back to Mansell's for the night. In the morn- 
ing make your way over to St. Andrew's. From there you will 
have no trouble in 'getting across, as there will be many leav- 
ing to spend Christmas in town. Help me to close reef the 
sail and I '11 be off." 

" I will not budge an inch, father ; nor you either, if I can 
prevent. The idea of our risking our lives for that bunch of 
dagoes over there 1" 

He was stooping over the tackle in the boat, and before I 
could say more he straightened like a flash. I thought he grew 
several inches taller, and his eyes shot a look at me I had 
never seen in them before — a look that a mother might have 
when her child was assailed. 

" Young man, I am ashamed of you ! I thought you were 
made of better stuff. I did not ask you to risk your life; and 
as for the people whom you designate as a 'bunch of dagoee,' 
there is not a better or braver or more Christian set of people 
in the country to-day than is contained in that village across 
the bay. They are plain fisher-folk, to be sure, but I would 
not give them, with their honest hearts and simple ways, for 
the riphest congregation of kid-glove Catholics in the country ; 
and, if God spares me, I will bring our Blessed Lord to them 
in the morning." 

He stooped again over the tackle. I was thoroughly abashed 



334 ONE MIDNIGHT MASS. [Dec, 

for my hasty words, as I well knew that he spoke truly, and 
knew also that had he so desired he could long ago have had 
his " kid-glove" congregation, and, perhaps, much higher honors ; 
but he preferred to spend his life on the mission among the 
simple, honest people who looked upon him as a saint, and 
who asked his advice on all matters, whether spiritual or other- 
wise. 

In a moment I was in the boat helping him with the sail. 
His rebuke had knocked all thought of fear out of my mind. 
I would face a much greater and more immediate danger to be 
reinstated in his good opinion. 

After fastening a small jibsail he reached his hand to me and 
said : " Jump out." Instead I threw off the fastening and poled 
the boat from the shore. 

" No, no, young man ! " he said. " You must not venture. 
You will be of little help except for company. I will not have 
you take the risk." 

"Well, father, I am going for company's sake, if you will 
forgive me for my hasty words." 

" You were forgiven before you asked ; but I would rather 
you 'd not go. If it blows no harder than now there is no 
fear ; but if it grows much worse, which it may at any moment, 
then I will have very grave fears." 

''Were it blowing a hurricane, father, I would not let you 
go alone." 

" Bless you, my son. We will put off in God's name." 

When we got beyond the shelter of the land we felt how 
really bad the storm was. A fierce gale was blowing from the 
west. At about ten o'clock it changed to the north-west, 
bringing with it lightning flashes and rumblings of thunder. 

This shift of wind was blowing us out of our course, as 
we could make no head against it. Father Hoyle lowered the 
mainsail, but with jib still up was running before the wind. It 
looked bad enough now, and if it grew any worse I felt noth- 
ing but a miracle would save us. Each wave that rushed upon 
us from out the darkness appeared a mountain in height and 
must inevitably send us to the bottom. There was a steady 
hand at the tiller, however, and at each flash of lightning a 
pair of watchful eyes could be seen peering anxiously ahead. 

The boat plunged and tossed through the heavy seas, one 
particularly large wave almost knocking me overboard. Father 



I902.] One Midnight Mass. 335 

Hoyle saw my fear and spoke encouragingly, telling me to hold 
fast ; that the boat was a staunch one and that God was in the 
storm as well as in the calm. He said that he thought we 
were heading towards Point San Bias, and that he would risk 
beaching the boat if he got a chance. A short time later, 
during a flash of lightning, I was startled by an alarmed cry 
from Father Hoyle to "Stand clear and be ready to jump!" 

" It is all up with us now," I thought. As I turned to 
look ahead a huge wave picked up the boat and tossed it high 
upon the shore. Father Hoyle landed safely, grasping his 
mission case containing his vestments and other articles neces- 
sary in the celebration of Mass, and which he had brought 
along in case something unforeseen should prevent his returning 
to Apalachicola Christmas morning. 

I was thrown on my head and partly stunned, but quickly 
recovered. After looking about, we found we were on a little 
island, or key, but a few acres in extent. We had escaped 
from the dangers of the deep. For so much we were thank- 
ful ; but it did not take us very long to realize that there were 
new dangers assailing us. The sea was slowly swallowing the 
bit of land upon which we were thrown. 

Father Hoyle returned to the boat and began taking every- 
thing movable out — pole, oars, a loose seat, and some strong 
fishing twine, remarking: "We may have to swim for it yet, 
and an oar or so will come in handy." Shortly after a tre- 
mendous wave rushed in, picked up the boat, then rushed back 
into the darkness with it. 

Father Hoyle made a trip around the small circle of sand, 
and returning, said : 

** This is very serious ; an hour from now this spot may be 
under water, and we battling for our lives. My son, I am now 
very sorry that I brought you on this trip." Here I tried to 
check him, but he continued : ** I expected it to be rough, but 
not dangerous ; and as it would be a long trip I wanted you 
to keep me company. If it comes to the worst will ye forgive 
me?" 

I grasped his hand and told him, as well as my emotion 
would allow — for I loved Father Hoyle very dearly ; as, indeed, 
who would n't ? — his kindly nature and heroic unselfishness en- 
dearing him to all — that had I let him go alone and anything had 
happened to him, I would all my life have felt myself a murderer. 

▼OL. LXXVI. — 22 



336 One Midnight Mass. [Dec, 

And now, let the end come as soon as it may, I thanked God 
that I was with him. A gentle pressure of my arm was his 
answer. 

He picked up the pole that he had taken from the boat 
and cut a notch about four feet below the smaller end. Into 
the notch he set an oar which he lashed fast with the fishing 
twine ; the oar and pole forming a cross. He then directed me 
to take the other oar and with the blade to dig a hole in the 
sand, which was soon accomplished, and into this he dropped 
the end of the pole.. I packed the sand tightly about it, and 
made it more secure by heaping it around the base. From the 
arms of the cross with several wrappings of twine he suspended, 
shelf-like, the boat-seat, forming as it were a table; above this 
he fastened a crucifix. The wind had ceased blowing, but over- 
head it was as dark and threatening as ever. The waters were 
steadily creeping nearer and spray from an occasional heavy 
sea fell about us. Father Hoyle lit the lantern which he always 
had on these watery journeys and hung it from an arm of the 
cross ; then turned to me and said : 

** It is now midnight. We have the privilege in this diocese 
of saying Mass at that hour on Christmas morning. In a short 
time the waves may be dashing over the spot where we are 
now standing. I am going to celebrate Mass — it may be for 
the last time. While I am getting ready you kneel down and 
prepare for confession and the reception of the Blessed Sacra- 
ment. If the end comes we will meet it as Christians should." 

Father Hoyle then proceeded to dress his impromptu altar. 
Taking the heavy oil-cloth from around the case he carefully 
laid it, wet side down, over the boat- seat, which it completely 
covered, forming at the same time a rude antependium ; next 
his altar linens were displayed, and before I was aware of it he 
had an altar *' dressed " for the celebration of the Holy Mys- 
teries. 

When through his preparations he heard my confession, and 
then, finishing vesting, began the Mass whose ending we might 
not live to see. After receiving Communion I felt strangely 
calm ; fear gave place to peace ; if it was. God's will that this 
should be the end, I was resigned. 

At the Elevation a succession of blinding flashes and terrific 
peals of thunder, followed by a dash of cold spray about my 
knees, made me think our time had come. I thought of Mass 



I902]. One Midnight Mass, 337 

at home: the well- trained choir, the incense and soft- toned 
bells warning the kneeling worshippers that the sacrificial 
moment was at hand. Here, the improvised altar on a speck 
of sand, midst a seething cauldron of angry waves ; the deafen- 
ing thunder and dazzling lightning ; an old, gray- haired priest 
with a look of profound exaltation upon his face, seemingly 
oblivious of his surroundings, reading Mass by the dim light of 
a lantern. 

When Father Hoyle turned to give his blessing at the con- 
clusion of the Mass a huge wave, that seemed a mountain in 
height, rushed towards us. Father Hoyle stood with hands out- 
stretched, his lips moving in prayer, looking toward but not 
seeming to see the avalanche of rushing water. Perhaps be- 
hind that wall of water he saw the reward of his years of 
faithful and uncomplaining ministrations. The wave paused an 
instant within a few yards of the altar, then sank back, leaving 
its crest to topple over at our feet. 

And who will say that that blessing, made so impressively 
over the warring elements, did not bring peace ? Yet so it 
was; the tremendous billows disappeared, the thunder rumbled 
faintly in the distance, and the sound of the waves died down 
into a solemn requiem at the blessing of that humble priest. 
Was it not the voice of God in his representative whispering 
to the mighty waves, ** Peace^ be still " ; and they, recogniz- 
ing the Authority, obeyed as on a former occasion ? 

The Mass was ended. Father Hoyle knelt in grateful 
thanksgiving. I joined him for a few minutes; then, being 
completely exhausted, I stretched myself upon the sand, and in 
a moment was sound asleep. 

When I awoke two hours later the scene was comparatively 
peaceful, only the great long swells of the sea giving evidence 
of the recent storm. Father Hoyle had placed his coat over 
me while I slept ; he was still kneeling before the cross, his 
gray head encircled in an aureole of moonlight, for the moon 
was now shining brightly and lending much beauty to the 
scene. As I watched him kneeling there with eyes fixed upon 
the crucifix, I could not but think that God's holy angels were 
not far away. 

He arose when he heard me moving. When I spoke of 
our escape and the likelihood of our spending this Christmas 
Day on earth after all, a look which I took to be resignation 



338 One Midnight Mass. [Dec. 

came upon bis face as he replied : " Well, my son, out work is 
not yet done." 

During the remaining hours of the ntght Fattier Hoyle 
spoke of his work on the mission, of his vexations through 
the bard-hearted ness of some who remained deaf to his call to 
come to the Sacraments, and his rewards in the shape of an 
occasional stray sheep brought back to the fold. He had am- . 
bitions once, he said ; he gave them up — that was his hardest 
trial — for his humble and scattered flock. 

At the first glint of the morning sun upon our bumble Cal- 
vary he began a Mass of thanksgiving. About ten o'clock 
boats were seen approaching from different points. Soon about 
two dozen men were gathered around Father Hoyle, offering 
such sincere expressions of joy at his safety as brought tears 
to the old priest's eyes. He thanked them for their interest 
and affection, and said: "It will be too late to say Mass when 
we get back to town. I have already said two Masses this 
morning ; but on this day we have the privilege of celebrating 
three, I will offer up this for the repose of the souls of those 
lost at sea." 

I will venture to say that throughout the broad land there 
were few more fervent worshippers than were these humble 
fishermen kneeling before Father Hoyle's simple altar that 
Christmas morning. And since then I never hear the bells at 
the Elevation but my thoughts involuntarily go back to one 
Miin'ght Mass on the Gulf coast some years ago. 



THE RECENT EVICTIONS IN BRITTANY. 

BY THE COMTESSE DE COL'RSON. 

URING the last weeks of August the inhabitants 
of Brittany proved themselves worthy of their 
ancient reputation. 

For days and weeks together, unmindful of 

their own interests, the true-hearted Breton 

peasants gave themselves up heart and soul to what was in 

their eyes a sacred duty : the defence of the nuns against 

whom the iniquitous French government is waging war. 

Our American readers have surely followed this disgraceful 
campaign. They know how, in defiance of all justice and 
legality, M. Combes, an ex- abbe, brutally closed over 150 
schools directed by nuns. Most of these schools were estab- 
lished in houses belonging to private individuals, whose rights 
were shamefully ignored. The most elementary rules of jus- 
tice have been trampled under foot, and the iniquity of the 
whole proceeding is aggravated by the fact that the situation 
of the evicted rehgious was, judicially and legally, perfectly 
regular; also that, as official statistics prove, the government 



^, THE RECENT EVICTIONS IN BRITTANY. [Dec, 

h'><->I» '" France are lull to overflowing; it is therefore 
at^rially impowible for them to receive the thousands of chil- 
<jf^n wh'-rte teachers have been thrown upon the world. 

'".- t/reat indeed is the injustice, brutality, and tyranny of 

fW? wh'-'lc proceeding tl*** even semi official papers like the 

'/ ifbt Mre obliged to reprove M. Combes' line of action. But, 

I . t thr dciliny of France is at the present moment in the 

ri* tit a handful of Freemasons and free-thinkers — men utter- 

1/' uf.nf nipiiloim, who have resolved to stamp out religion in 

the country. 

It would take 
us too long to ex- 
amine the causes 
that have, by slow 
degrees, led to this 
result. One of 
them is doubtless 
the lack of energy 
of the Catholic 
and Conservative 
party, its petty 
quarrels and un- 
worthy differ- 
ences, when acom- 
fflon peril should 
have banded to- 
gether the souls 
of all true be- 
lievers. Be the 
cause what it may, 
the result is only 
too clear and, in 
the eyes of even 
the most optimis- 
tic of her children, 

J'^AiA^Tb DESl.HTED THE FIELDS. r-  • _ 

r ranee is gomg 
.••j:Z" * political and religious crisis whose gravity it would 
[ rf.'J.'.ult to exaggerate. 

Hdjjjvily, however, the violent evictions that have taken 
\u^ tliis last summer seem to have moved a class of people 
■i.o, unk-ss their personal interests are at stake, are inclined to 



I902.] The Recent Evictions in Brittany. 341 

condone the worst acts of the govemment. In the Vosges, in 
Savoy, in the west and centre of France — nay, in Paris itself — 
an indignant protest has arisen from the peasantry and working 
classes, from those in fact who, absorbed by a dreary round of 
daily labor, have neither the leisure nor the desire to study 
politics. These igrorant but honest souls realized at last, per- 
haps for the first time, the sectarian tendencies of the men who 
govern the country, and their indignation was swift and deep. 

It was more particularly so in Brittany, where religion still 
keeps a firm hold over natures as rugged and as strong as their 
own rock- bound coast, and the scenes that have lately taken 
place in Breton villages are worth recording. For many weeks 
the country seemed in a state of siege ; the peasants deserted 
their fields and left the harvest to take care of itself. ** Our 
crops may be lost for all we care," they said ; " we have an- 
other and more important duty to perform." Armed with 
sticks, they stolidly kept guard, for days and weeks, night and 
day, round the schools, whose inmates were threatened with 
eviction at the hands of the government. 

The scheme of resistance was organized in a manner that 
proved the twentieth century Breton peasants to be the worthy 
descendants of the ** Chouans " of old ; scouts were sent in every 
direction to watch the movements of the police, and it was ar- 
ranged that, on the approach of the enemy, an alarm bell 
should ring from every village steeple to summon the defenders 
of the nuns to their post. The excitement was greatest in the 
" departement " of Finistere, at the very extremity of the Bre- 
ton peninsula, around Roscoff, a small sea-side place, where 
Mary Stuart, then a mere child, landed when she came to 
France to marry the Dauphin. In thanksgiving for her safe 
passage the young Scottish queen erected a chapel, which is 
now only a ruin, on the Roscoff coast. Here, nearly two cen- 
turies later, in 1746 her hapless descendant, Charles Edward 
Stuart, the young Pretender, landed on October 10, after his 
disastrous attempt to recover his ancestral throne. 

A few miles out at sea, in sight of RoscofT, is the island 
of Batz ; it has about eleven hundred inhabitants. The men 
being exclusively employed in fishing, the women cultivate the 
soil. 

For many weeks the good people of Roscoff had been in 
a state of violent excitement; for it was well known that the 



;-\f- r S'XT.wvs /.v Brittany. [Dec 



«''.c school where the children of 
!v> ■rvpe! the nuns. Count Albert 
KoswrT, was among them; using 
v;Kvnr;»i;e their just and legiti- 
•»-''c tin'.e endeavoring to prevent 
I!,* tAsk was no easy one; he 
a:uI disinterestedness that must 
'■' h>-\l by friends and foes. 



I902.] The Recent Evictions in Brittany. 343 

On the nth of August a grand demonstration took place 
before the convent; many strangers and visitors, who were 
staying at Roscoff for the bathing season, joined in it. It was 
generally felt that a crisis was at hand, a universal feeling of 
excitement prevailed, vague rumors were abroad, predicting that 
the authorities had decided that the eviction of the nuns should 
take place next day. 

On the evening of that memorable day the quaint Breton 
town presented an unusual appearance. A large number of 
women of all ranks and ages; ladies from the neighboring 
"chateaux"; peasants with the snow-white Roscoff "coiffe" 
framing their sunburnt faces, assembled near the convent. 
Some entered and spent the night on their knees with the nuns 
who the next day were to be turned out of their home ; 
others remained outside, sitting, standing, or kneeling, as the 
case might be, under the starlit sky. A number of young men, 
with their bicycles, kept guard in the neighborhood, carefully 
watching the roads where the enemy might appear. 

Towards three in the morning, oii the 12th, the Roscoff 
railway station was lighted up and the watchers learnt that a 
special train was expected to arrive, bringing a detachment of 
troops, while, at the same time, a number of '' gendarmes " ap- 
proached the convent by the country roads. 

Immediately the sound of trumpets, horns, whistles was 
heard in every direction ; at a given signal the islanders of 
Batz crossed the narrow strait that separates th(m frcm the 
mainland, and soon over three thousand persons, forming a com- 
pact mass, assembled in front of the convent school. 

The women were nearest the wall, pale, resolute, with a 
strange light in their blue eyes ; then the men, with bent brows 
and clinched hands ; in front stood Monsieur Albert de Mun, the 
champion of justice, his tricolor sash well in view; close to him 
the Comte de Gu^briant, a leading landowner of the district ; 
and behind them a few other friends. 

The enemy came forward : first two '* commissaires de 
police," by whose side walked a man with downcast eyes and 
the demeanor of a condemned criminal; it was the locksmith 
who was to force open the door. Behind these were the troops 
from Morlaix, under the command of two captains ; officers 
and men being evidently ill at ease, hating the work they were 
compelled to do; then followed the ** gendarmes." 



7ffh kECEST EVICTIOS'S IS BRITTANY. [Dec., 



Tlirrr wns som«thing ludicrous as well as tragic in this 
imposiim ilisjilay of {orccs arrayed against a few harmless 
women. 

\\\ « Kuid voice the Count de Mun protested against the 
iuiviuily ami iimisiioe of the pr*>ceedings ; the crowd behind him 
rtnswTfMn; by « loud cry : " Vive la libertc ! Vivent les Soeurs ! " 
U>.U vrtHj; thr\Mij;h the chill moiniiig air, 

I'he " vvminissAirc" then requested Monsieur de Mun to 
oivrn the dv'or o{ the school; this he refused to do. "We will 
o\»\' \ioUl to xioleuoc" 

t'Jiuv M*'*"*, A^vouli'.'j; tv^ the {Twisions ot French law, the 
»n-i»'(tv'm »,(i tviNNtu-xt, l>ut the *ri,-i«-er was an eloquent and 
vs'ii.'.vvw oi'o A* It Vv:>t t',o;v. the toy.*; l^reton he»rts; "Vi\-e 

',.».:» s'»iv? A !V,.> ■.■,,■■;: ot i;i:ir;!W suiL-^:'.**-. The crowd stood 
Ah.v . ;i\ '^s ■' "ot A si;'; o; >■*■•■ -3: o.--\i ^e detected on 
(■>.,> !\-.x> , u- !A,\-t o; ih,-.>\- !■ r;v-;> w->.vvs; :be "commis- 
vt V ' \s'-vvs' *; v-.uh o,''.-! >,".',->>'> , :>? sv-;,' irs^ X-ccd to 
v^.'-: ■-N■-^; ^v "• . ,1% li -.v  ',- e^ -■>■■■: ^ s\ ■.r-.-A:'*l«d with 



I902.] The Recent evictions in Brittany, 345 

Suddenly the *' sous prefet " of Morlaix made his appear- 
ance. He took in at a glance the gravity of the situation, and 
approached the Comte de Mun to entreat him to use his influ- 
ence to prevent a collision that might cause bloodshed and 
even loss of life. 

As Monsieur de Mun justly observed, when relating this 
episode, what respect can be felt for a government whose 
representative is reduced to implore the mediation of its own 
opponents ? 

The attitude of the crowd was such that the Catholic leader 
felt that his task was no easy one. He realized that a collision 
must take place should the situation be prolonged ; yet it hurt 
him to check the ardor of those whose cause, after all, was that 
of right and justice. 

From a sense of duty, however, he addressed the crowd 
and pointed out the terrible dilemma in which the soldiers 
would be placed if ordered to advance: "We will never move; 
we will resist to the end ; we want liberty, we want to keep 
the Sisters ! *' answered three thousand voices. Monsieur de 
Gu^briant spoke to enforce his friend's meaning. " We will not 
move," replied the crowd. 

At last the Comte de Mun persuaded the "sous prefet" to 
send away the "gendarmes,** whose presence had an irritating 
effect upon the people ; whereas the soldiers, as he well knew, 
would, even in this case, appeal to the sympathy of the crowd. 

When, instead of the objectionable " gendarmes," the peas- 
ants found themselves close to the pale, troubled faces of the 
soldiers, a cry of "Vive Tarinii!" arose. With sad eyes the 
soldiers, some of them mere lads^ watched the people whose 
feelings were one with theirs, although the stern necessities of 
military discipline brought them face to face as enemies. 

Monsieur de Mun afterwards confessed that the moment was 
one of extreme tension. The excitement of the crowd was on 
the increase ; the women, clinging frantically to the door, cried : 
"We will not open; we wish to die here, we are ready to 
die." 

At last he contrived to send a message to the superioress 
inside the convent, advising her to open, for the sake of the 
women whose lives were in peril, and also of the government 
agents, whose safety it became every moment more difficult to 
insure. 



346 THE Recent evictions in Brittany. [Dec, 

The good nun bowed to his advice, and, accompanied by 
Monsieur de Mun, the " commissaire " was permitted to enter. 
To the decree expelling her from her convent home the 
superioress replied by a dignified protest, stipulating that she 

yielded to vio- 
lence, and that 
neither she nor 
her nuns had ever 
in any way vio- 
lated the laws of 
the country. 

Then the con- 
vent door opened ; 
supported by the 
Comtesse de Gue- 
briant, the supe- 
rioress appeared, 
followed by her 
community and 
surrounded by her 
friends. The 
shriek that went 
up from the crowd 
was such that even 
the government 
official instinctive- 
ly bared his head : 
"Vivent les Soeurs! 
Vive la liberte ! " 
A peasant woman, 
TiiE LEANING Nave of the Cathedkal of Quemper. seizing a tricolor 

flag with a crepe 
streamer, led the way ; after her came the nuns, their de- 
fenders, their pupils, gentlemen and peasants, old people and 
little children, weeping and crying "Vive la liberte! Vivent les 
Soeurs." 

The procession passed along the quaint streets, in sight of 
the blue sea, under the glorious sunshine of that August day, 
rending the air with shouts of protestation against the tyranny 
of the God-hating government that is crushing the real heart of 
France. 



I902.] THE Recent Evictions in Brittany, 347 

On reaching the church the people sang the "Miserere" 
and the " Parce Domine " ; after which the Comte de Mun, 
standing on the cemetery wall, implored his hearers to keep the 
faith alive in spite of oppression and violence. His last words 
were words of hope as he bade the sisters, not adieu but ''Au 
revoir." 

Scenes no less stirring and impressive took place, a few days 
later, in the same departement of Finistere. Within a short dis- 
tance from each other are three localities: Le Folgoet, Plon- 
daniel, and St. Meen, each of which possesses a school directed 
by nuns. It was well known in the district that the authorities 
intended to expel the nuns; and here also, for many weeks, 
peasants armed with thick sticks kept watch night and day. 

Le Folgoet boasts of a fine church, to which is attached a 
touching legend. In mediaeval times a poor idiot named Salaun 
lived on the spot where the Gothic steeples now rise against 
the blue sky. He was a harmless, innocent-minded pian, who, 
says the old legend, "nevei* offended any one." During forty 
years he lived on alms ; the only words that were heard to 
pass his lips were those of the Ave Maria, which he recited 
day and night. He died close to the tree under which his life 
had been spent, and was buried there by his neighbors. A few 
days later an extraordinary piece of news spread through the 
country : a fair lily had grown upon the idiot's grave, and on 
its broad green leaves were written, in letters of gold, Ave 
Maria. 

Such was the origin of the famous pilgrimage Church of 
N6tre Dame du Folgoet, and, judging from the demeanor of 
the inhabitants during recent events. Our Lady's blessing rests 
in a special manner on her faithful Breton children. 

Like the peasants near Roscoff, those of Le Folgoet forgot 
their own interests in their desire to defend the sisters. Across 
the roads they built barricades, which were made of carts, at- 
tached together by wire work ; round the convent of Plondaniel 
they dug deep trenches filled with water. The fields were de- 
serted, the crops uncared for; at the entrance of every village 
. were men armed* with heavy sticks, whose iron spikes made 
them formidable weapons. Peasant boys acted as scouts, and 
either on horseback or on their bicycles kept a sharp lookout 
on the roads ; in some cases even the women were employed 
in the same wo«-k. 



.v^- .\£CE\r EiicTioxs /.v Brittany. [Dec, 



•\ o.-< ^Su-ivlpr, resembling a spy, a "gen- 
i ' I vl^j;;itse>, niaile his appearance, a cry of 
■. v..>oc^t lioni one village to another, and 
, s^v "~ i,\m iWscribe the weird effect of the 

V. <. '•. v».ci i,\'Iit ami wet, and at night the 
( ,,v^ it'v* in tht- open; around these they 
 ,v' ,«'!.( w,u ■.•}■.! Ill, but when the Angelus 

 ■. ^Sl'^'ii^tj; ihiirch it was touching to see 
^,(^i.. I'tiii iLtik faces suddenly softening as 

t ,,(",■, \'!> the i,"<th of August three hun- 



I903.] THE RECENT EVICTIONS IN BRITTANY. 349 

dred soldiers and twenty "gendarmes" laid siege to the con- 
vent school of Plondaatel. Over a thousand Breton Catholics 
were there. They had watched over the nuns during sixteen 
hours without a moment's rest ; it had rained heavily, and ail, 
delicate women, young girls, children, were drenched to the 
skin. After a brave defence the convent opened its doors, but 
not until the infuriated peasants had poured pails of muddy 
water upon the "gendarmes" and other officials. 

At Le Folgoet the door of the convent was broken to pieces ; 



The Water Front ok Landekneau. 

the Bretons were on their knees before it, and thus kneeling 
they formed an impenetrable wall ; the expulsion here lasted 
three hours. 

At St. Meen, a neighboring village, blood was shed. The 
women and children were clinging to the gateway, and to the 
summons addressed to them they replied by the cry: "Vivent 
Ics Sceurs ! Vive la liberie ! " The " sous prefet " seems to have 
lost all self-control, and ordered the mounted "gendarmes" to 
charge against the human barrier that opposed their progress. 
In the fray many young girls and women were roughly handled ; 
the peasants attacked the " gendarmes " with their pointed 
sticks; several fell to the ground and were trampled under 



350 Sunshine and Rain [Dec, 

foot. At last, a portion of the wall that enclosed the convent 
having been thrown down, an entrance was effected. 

Here, as elsewhere, the sisters were on their knees praying 
for their friends, and also for their foes ; when they, for the 
last time, crossed the threshold of their convent home. It was 
noticed that the superioress, perceiving a ** gendarme " whose 
hand was bleeding, promptly tore up her apron and bandaged 
the wounded limb — true to the last to her instincts of charity. 
Then, followed by the crowd, she and her sisters proceeded to 
the village church, the haven and home where the oppressed 
and afflicted find a safe shelter. 

Such are the events that, during the last weeks of August, 
made Brittany a battle-field, where the untaught peasants bravely 
fought for the helplesi victims of M. Combes' tyranny. 

In the end, as was inevitable, might triumphed over right ; 
but their generous effort is not wasted. In the evil days that 
have dawned for the church in France the protest of the faith- 
ful Bretons is a noble example, and who knows how far the in- 
fluence of this example may carry ? God*s ways are not our 
wayt ; in his sight there are defeats more precious than vic- 
ioTMf and who would venture to regard as useless the gen- 
^.fo\x% outburst of these true Catholics, whose war-cry, "Vive 
U liberty ! Vivent les Soeurs," may rouse in many hearts slum- 
bering feelings of loyalty to the church in her hour of 
peril ? 



SUNSHINE AND RAIN. 

WAS ever thus : on earth's green fields 
That flow'r the sweetest fragrance yields 
That is well dewed with rains. 



So with the heart : the fairest, best 
When 'tis not e'er with sunshine blest. 
But often tried with pains. 

Francis J. Rohr. 




I902.] A Pen Picture of English Life. 351 




A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE IN THE TWELFTH 

AND THIRTEENTH CENTURIES. 

BY WILLIAM SETON. LL.D. 

N Yorkshire, in the year 1166, there was an estate 
of five thousand acres which belonged to one 
Geoffry de Granville. This nobleman, who was 
styled Lord of the Manor, had inherited it from 
his grandfather, who had received it from King 
William I., better known as William the Conqueror, as a reward 
for his bravery at the battle of Hastings, at which battle, as we 
know, the Norman invaders were victorious over the Saxons 
under King Harold and succeeded in founding the Norman 
dynasty in England. Of these five thousand acres only about 
one- fifth was fit for the plough; the rest of the manor was 
primeval forest, the haunt of wild boars and wolves and deer 
without number. 

On the summit of a hill, which commanded a pretty good 
view of the domain, stood a dark stone building surrounded by 
a deep ditch, with the drawbridge nearly always up. Its walls 
were six feet thick; and there was a tower on the north end 
of it in which, by descending a number of winding steps, you 
came at length to a pitch-dark- chamber under ground, and 
those who were imprisoned in this chamber seldom again saw 
the sunshine. 

At the foot of the hill was a wooden edifice whose bell- 
tower and cross told you that it was a church, while the row 
of hovels on a line with yonder little river are the homes of 
the poor inhabitants of the manor, all of English descent, and 
if they have built close to the stream it is in order to be handy 
to the water-mill.* Their two-story dwellings are made of logs 
plastered with mud, the floors are of bare earth, and the upper 
stories are reached by a ladder. Not one of these hovels has a 
chimney (only the castle, or manor house, as it is called, lets 
out the smoke in this way) ; nor have they any windows, and 
in front of each doorway is what is called a mixen^ namely, a 
foul-smelling heap of various kinds of refuse ; and when it rains 

•Gibbins' Industrial History of England, pp. 19-21. 
VOL. LXXVI.— 23 



jja A PEN Picture of English Life. [Dec, 

A ^ood deal of this filth finds its way into the well water, for 
the mixens and the wells are not far apart. 

The villeins who occupy these abodes are, considering the 
A^c in which they live, not particularly unhappy. Outside the 
circle of land which surro.unds the manor house is a plot of 
about twelve acres allotted to each villein, which he may culti- 
vate for himself ; nor can his lord deny him these twelve acres; 
they are his by customary right, and on De Granville's estate 
there are thirty villeins. The rent they pay is not in money, 
but in labor ; each villein is bound to plough half an acre of 
his lord's land as well as to give him three days' work in har- 
vest time, and he must also supply him with eggs and chickens, 
and a little grain when De Granville's own supply falls short ; 
and the lord's bailiff — who, by the way, is sometimes a Jew — 
sees that the villeins do their duty in this respect. And let us 
add that a villein cannot leave the manor without permission ; 
for although he is not a serf, who is bound to a master, yet he 
is bound to the soil, and in order to get leave to go away and 
make another home for himself, he must pay down a pretty 
good sum of money. Nor may any of his sons become a 
priest unless the lord's permission be first obtained by a pay- 
ment of money ; although sometimes a younger son is allowed 
to wander off to some town without asking leave, and there, if 
he be ambitious and fond of work, he will become a member 
of a craft guild. But although, as we have said, a villein was 
bound to the soil, was looked upon as real property,* and was 
obliged to do a gt^^en amount of work for his lord, neverthe- 
less this obligation to work might be commuted into payment 
of a certain sum, and the villein might thus rise to become 
what was called a free tenant, who was not bound to the soil 
and whose labor had always to be paid for in money. And on 
many estates the bailiffs rather favored this tendency of the vil- 
leins to become free tenants, for when a laborer was hired his 
wage's worth of labor could more easily be reckoned and the 
work be gotten out of him. But then a free tenant might 
leave the manor if he pleased, although as long as he did not 
leave it he was bound — and mark this well — to do military service 
when his lord called for it, which service a villein did not owe, 
and in this respect the villein was better off than the free tenant. 

On the De Granville estate, at a little distance from the 

• Hallam. 



I903.] A Pen Picture of English Life. 353 

thirty hovels which belonged to the villeins, stood twelve other 
humble dwellings, and these were the homes of twelve cottars. 
Now, a cottar ranked lower than a villein ; he was allowed 
only half as much land to cultivate, and several cottars had to 
join together in order to have a plough and a pair of oxen 
between them. But lower even than the cottar was the serf or 
bondsoian, who, as we have said, was bound to his master. 
Baron de Granville had only three bondsmen, and these three 
were destined in a few years to disappear by becoming merged 
with the cottars. And here let us observe that under the early 
Norman kings, when the population of England was probably 
under 2,ooo,(XX5,* about 38 per cent, of the English were vil- 
leins, 32 per cent, were cottars, and 9 per cent, were bonds- 
men. But in the course of several generations all the bondsmen 
became cottars ; and this advance, although not great, was 
nevertheless a distinct betterment of their condition. 

No doubt the happiest spot on Baron de Granville's domain 
was the spot where the church stood; for although the noble- 
man looked on the building as his own property, his serfs, 
cottars, and villeins viewed it in a different light: it was God's 
sacred edifice, and here, when the day's work was ended, they 
loved to come and pray, and the patch of ground hard by, 
where the little wooden crosses marked a number of humble 
graves, was called God's acre. And the priest who here, as on 
many other estates, was of the same lowly origin as themselves, 
was the villeins' only friend, and he brightened their hard lives 
by telling them that there was a better world than this world 
where a good villein would go when he died. 

In one of the hovels, the one which had the biggest mixen 
in front of the door, there might have been seen of a winter's 
evening towards the end of the year 1166 an aged man named 
Godmund. He was blind and had only one foot, and on the 
same bench on which he sat were two little flaxen- haired boys, 
his grandchildren. Opposite to him, squatting on the earthen 
floor, were three shaggy, middle-aged villeins, who were warming 
their hands over a peat Are which was burning in a hole scooped 
out of the earth. Nobody seemed to mind the smoke which 
filled the room, and which made its way slowly up into the 
chamber overhead and from there out into the frosty air 
through a hole cut in the thatched roof. 

• Gibbins' Industrial History of Ertgland, p. 37. 



354 A Pen Picture of English Life. [Dec, 

" You have seen a good, deal in your day," spoke one of 
the villeins, addressing Godmund, "and I am never tired o{ 
hearing you tell about what you have seen." 

'* Ay, I atn ninety years old," said the old man, " and, by 
the help of what I can remember hearing my father tell, I am 
able to go back to that fatal day — a century ago — when our 
good King Harold was defeated and slain at Hastings. And as 
if to add to his grief, my father, along with many other Saxon 
bowmen, was forced to carry stones from a quarry near the 
battle-field and with these stones to build a monastery, which 
the Norman invader did name Battle Abbey." 

" To think that a monster like him should wish to build an 
abbey ! " ejaculated a second villein. 

** No doubt William, styled the Conqueror, did believe him- 
self a godly man ; they say he heard Mass every day," laughed 
a third villein. 

"Godly, indeed!" exclaimed Godmund. "Why, here in 
Yorkshire, where some of the towns did after a time rise up 
against his rule, he sent his foreign troopers, and they did so 
ravage the country with fire and sword that more than a 
hundred thousand men, women, and children perished, and to 
this very day, almost a hundred years afterwards, you may still 
see traces of their savagery." • 

"Well, at any rate, he was a wise man to count all our 
heads and our holdings, and to mark them down in a big 
book, as I have heard say he did," spoke the first villein. 

"Ay, I grant you he had wisdom," said Godmund, "and in 
that book he has marked down where every manor is situated 
which he gave to his Norman followers. There is written in it, 
too, just how much of the land is arable and how much is 
forest and fen ; even villeins like you and me are numbered in 
that wonderful book. No marvel that it took six years to com- 
plete, and it bears a good name — ^The Domesday, or Book of 
Judgment." Here Godmund paused a moment, then went on : 
" But when he died we villeins were no better off under his 
redheaded son — William Rufus, as the clerics do style him. Al- 
though William Rufus did possess already sixty- eight forests for 
his deer, he was not satisfied ; he did want more hunting ground, 
and he drove the inhabitants out of twenty- eight square miles of 
good country, and he turned this country into another forest, 
which he called New Forest." 

• Lingard. 



I902.] A Pen Picture of English Life, 355 

" Was n't it this King William Rufus who was killed by a 
chance shot of one of his own French knights when they were 
hunting together ? " inquired one of the villeins. 

" Ha ! ha ! a chance shot ! So runs the story/' laughed 
Godmund. "But I know better. 'Twas a good Saxon arrow 
sent from Robin Hood's bow that laid him low." 

** Well, his brother Henry, who took the crown after him, 
was a little better king, was he not ? " spoke another villein. 

"A little better, as kings go, a little better," answered 
Godmund. " He took to wife Matilda, a princess of Saxon 
descent, and never was worthier spouse than she ; much too 
good for him. His Norman knights were uncommonly bloody- 
handed, and my son did see one of them, the Earl of- Shrews- 
bury, with his own hawk-like fingers tear out the eyes of his 
godson, who had done him no wrong ; the earl punished the 
boy for his father's offence." • 

"And 'twas King Henry who blinded you, was it not?" 

" Nay, 'twas the father of our present lord of the manor 
who did that," replied Godmund. ** He pressed a hot copper 
plate over my eyes and I have never seen anything since. 
And 'twas- he too who cut off my right foot. Ay, just for 
shooting a roebuck I was blinded and lost one foot. And yet 
another villein, who was with me shooting roebucks, was made 
to suffer more than I suffered. He was impaled a few rods 
from the drawbridge, and Baron de Granville and his friends 
used to come out and look at him as he sat groaning upon the 
sharp stake ; and he did live three days on that stake before he 
died." 

At this moment the mother of the little boys sitting beside 
their grandfather suddenly paused at her work. She had been 
grinding barley in a hand-mill — an old-time contrivance, as old 
as the last Sa^on king. It consisted of two broad, flat stones 
which rested on a cloth ; and in the upper stone was a hole 
into which the grain was poured, and this upper stone had 
also a peg fastened to it by which to hold it up ; and while 
one hand poured in the grain, the other hand made this upper 
stone turn rapidly round upon the lower one, and the rye or 
barley, pretty well ground, rolled out at the sides upon the 
cloth. But as we have said, the woman suddenly stopped grind- 
ing and hid the hand-mill under a sheepskin, for there was a 

• Lingard, Henry I. 



356 A Pen Picture of English Life. [Dec, 

loud knock at the door. Presently the door opened and two 
men strode in. One had short-cropped, snow-white hair and a 
stooping back, and his long black habit betokened him a priest. 
His companion was young and tall and handsome; he stood 
straight as an arrow; over one shoulder was slung a crossbow, 
and on the other he carried the haunch of a deer. 

" Oh, you did gfive me such a fright when you knocked," 
exclaimed the housewife, whose hand was pressing down the 
sheepskin. 

" Ay," spoke the youthful huntsman, " you feared 'twas the 
bailiff who knocked, for I shrewdly guess what you *ve been 
doing : you 've been trying to cheat Lord de Granville by grind- 
ing your own meal instead of toting it to his water-mill and 
paying him toll for grinding it." 

" Shrewdly guessed," answered the woman, with a twinkle in 
her eye. ** But pray, what carry you on your right shoulder ? " 

"A Christmas gift from somebody who is not a villein, but 
who is as free and bold, and happier, too, I trow, than many a 
Baron in England," replied the youth, dropping the venison at 
her feet. 

" Oh, a thousand thanks," said the housewife. Then turning 
to the old priest : " And you, father — you shall say grace over 
it on that holy day." 

" My Christmas dinner is to be eaten at Lord de Granville's 
table. He has invited me and I must go," answered the priest 

" Well, you '11 hear him and two or three brother knights 
roundly cursing Robin Hood's son for thinning out his roe- 
bucks," said the youth. " But, by all that *s holy, I '11 con- 
tinue to make the wildwoods my home and to shoot his deer 
while I live." 

" Be not excited," spoke the priest, stroking him on the 
arm. " *Tis a venial fault you do be committing." 

" Ay, a fault so very venial that a fly's eye could n't spy it 
out," answered the youthful outlaw. " And Lord de Granville 
little dreams what fast friends you and I do be." 

"And friends we ought to be. Did I not more than once 
shrive Robin Hood, your father ? " continued the priest. " And 
at this holy season I hope that his son will come to my con- 
fession box." 

*' Might you not rather call it my confession box ? " returned 
the youth, laughing. 



I902.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 357 

"Well, well, if thus you please to style the hollow oak-tree 
by the ravine where you say a werewolf does sometimes howl ; 
two nights before Christmas come to me there to be shriven." 

"Agreed," said young Robin Hood. "At moonrise I'll be 
by the hollow oak-tree." 

" But hold, why not now ? A bird in the hand — " ex- 
claimed the priest, grasping his arm as he was about to open 
the door. 

" What ! tell all my tiny faults here, and like enough while 
on my knees be caught by the bailiff ? Have n't I run enough 
risk of my neck already ? Nay, nay, at moonrise by the hol- 
low oak-tree." And with this the youth flung open the door 
and vanished in the darkness. 

" Bring you any news from the manor house ? " inquired 
Godmund presently, when the priest had settled himself on a 
bench by the peat fire, and when the hand-mill was at work 
again cheating the lord of the manor out of his dues from the 
water-mill. 

" I have heard," answered the priest, " that the manorial 
courts are to be held at the manor house shortly after the New 
Year; and I am always glad when these courts are opened, for 
they do help to instruct the serfs, cottars, and villeins in the 
art of managing, in a certain degree, their own affairs." • 

"They do, indeed," said Godmund. "In our court-leet we 
villeins do form a jury in the minor criminal cases ; but when 
my grandsons get to manhood I hope they will become free 
tenants, and being free tenants they will take part in the higher 
court, the Court Baron, where civil matters are discussed." 

"Ay, and the lord of the manor, who presides over both 
courts, is able to learn a good deal from them ; his bondsmen, 
cottars, villeins, and free tenants can teach him something face 
to face by their looks and speech," said the priest. 

" But if my grandsons be wise men," pursued Godmund, 
" as soon as they are free tenants they will move away from 
the manor and go to dwell in some town." 

"I am of your mind," said the priest. "Let them move to 
York, . or Lincoln, or to Winchester. But methinks London 
might be the best town." 

" Oh, would that I were young and had my eyes back and 
could see London," ejaculated Godmund. Then after a pause: 

• Gibbins' Industrial History of England, note 4, page 227. 



358 A Pen Picture of English Life. [Dec, 

''But besides the holding of the manorial courts, what other 
news bring you from the manor house ? " 

"Well, I did hear Lord de Granville say that our good 
Archbishop Becket has been obliged to flee from the country 
and to take refuge in France. And, forsooth, is it not inter- 
esting to note the change that did come over the archbishop 
when he was elected to the See of Canterbury ? Before that 
time, when he was merely Archdeacon Thomas Becket, he was 
not a little given to vanity and high living, and he was a 
marked favorite at court. But from the day when he became 
archbishop he has not once stooped to flatter King Henry ; and 
this was the beginning of his troubles. And now the king 
cannot forgive him for maintaining that clerics who may be ac- 
cused of breaking the law must be tried by spiritual judges in 
ecclesiastical courts, instead of being tried in Royal or Baronial 
courts. And 'tis because he is firm as a rock on this point 
that the archbishop has had to flee from England." 

'* 'Twill not be wise in him to come back," said Godmund. 
" For if he do he may like enough meet a tragic end ; our Norman 
rulers are not much better than pagans in dealing with churchmen. 
Alas ! alas ! when will happier times come for poor England ? " 

" Well, our first hundred years of Norman rule have been 
years of uncommon trial for the English people," returned the 
priest, " and they are ending in a cloud. But we must be pa- 
tient, patient and pray." 

"Ay, and thank the good God for Robin Hood's son who, 
at the risk of hanging for killing a deer, did bring us meat for 
our Christmas dinner," put in the mother of the sleepy little 
boys. And with these words she pulled them off the bench 
and bade them hie to bed. 

" And 'tis through men of the Robin Hood stamp that 
barons and kings will by and by be taught that they are not 
our divinely appointed masters," continued Godmund. 

" That day may come, it may come," said the old priest 
with a sad smile. Then rising up he wished them good-night. 

" Good- night ! good-night!" cried the two pretty, flaxen- 
haired brats, as they clambered up the ladder to the smoky 
chamber overhead, there to sleep and to dream of a beautiful, 
far-away spot in the forest where they were hunting the deer 
with Robin Hood's son. 

END OF CENTURY. 



1902.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 359 

THE SUCCEEDING CENTURY— 1166 TO 1266. 

• 

A hundred years have passed by since the son of Robin 
Hood, the Saxon outlaw, bade good-night to Godmund that 
winter's evening, after giving him a haunch of venison for his 
Christmas dinner. And now we find one of Godmund's de-. 
scendants comfortably settled in London. For his grandfather, 
by paying a pretty good sum of money to Baron de Gran- 
ville — his lord of the manor — had risen from the condition of a 
villein bound to the soil to that of a free tenant, who might 
depart from the manor if he pleased; and being a free tenant, 
he had wisely journeyed to the biggest town in England, where 
he had become a member of the Weavers' Guild. 

It is rushlight, the day's work is ended, and seated by the 
side of old Godmund's descendant is a white-haired man, whose 
bare feet, habit of coarse serge, and the rope fastened about 
his waist show that he is a preaching friar, a new order 
founded by the Blessed Francis of Assisi, and which had only 
within a few years come into England. 

"Then you do maintain," spoke Godmund, "that although 
the past hundred years have witnessed many deeds of cruelty, 
the people on the whole are better off than they used to be." 

" I do," answered the friar, whose name was Roger Bacon. 
"I even hail the murder of Archbishop Becket, at the foot of 
St. Bennet's altar in Canterbury Cathedral, as a mark of pro- 
gress ; it did show to King Henry H. that sooner than give up 
his belief that clerics who broke the law should be tried not in 
a royal but in an ecclesiastical court, this prelate of the church 
— at one time so fond of the court and of luxury — was ready 
to defy his king and to give up his life. Our masters too have 
discovered that while all churchmen are hot what they ought 
to be, yet it is among them that the struggling English people 
have their best friends, their most outspoken defenders." 

"Well, no doubt King Henry H. was over- proud and 
imagined that he was greater than the church ; still we who 
dwell in London cannot forget that it is to him we owe our 
charter," said the weaver. "And among our other privileges a 
townsman may now be tried by his fellow-townsmen at the 
town hustings which are held once a week." 

" Ay, but what is your London charter compared with the 
Great Charter which a few years later, in the meadow called 



36o A PEN Picture of English Life. [Dec, 

Runnymede, King John was made to grant to his whole king- 
dom ? " said Friar Bacon. '' And it was his own barons with 
Norman blood in their veins, and spurred on mayhap by their 
English wives, who did make him grant it." 

"True enough," said Godmund. "I had forgotten about 
. Magna Charta, as the clerics do call it, for it was signed be- 
fore I was born. But it did not help the villeins on the 
manors. They are in about the same condition as in my great- 
grandfather's time, are they not?" 

" Let them be patient ; their day will come," answered Friar 
Bacon. " Only let more villeins follow the example of your 
family and rise to be free tenants and move into some town ; 
for it is in the towns that the tradition of our old-time Saxon 
liberty is kept alive. True, in towns you have not the same 
fresh air and sunshine as you do have when you live on a 
manor. But in your narrow, dark streets ye may work at your 
crafts unobserved by the great and powerful, and ye may do a 
deal of thinking aloud while ye work, with no baron and no 
king a-listening to what ye say. And although 't will not be in 
our generation, I have faith that a day is coming when the 
whole of England will be one great commonwealth of free 
towns like London." 

" There '11 be many a villein and craftsman hanged afore 
that commonwealth is born," laughed the weaver. 

" You may be right," continued Friar Bacon. " But what 
good thing did ever come into the world without tears and 
suffering? In sooth, except for the barons and kings being so 
given to quarrelling among themselves and to shedding blood, 
not many towns to-day would have gotten charters. You see 
the barons and kings did need money, ready money, to carry 
on their quarrelling and to pay their ransoms when they were 
made captive and thrust into dungeons; and ye did let them 
have the ready money, and in return for this money the towns 
which gave it were granted the right to assess themselves, to 
choose their own mayors, and to have their own tribunals."* 

** What you say is true," said Godmund, 

*' And you did wisely to join a craft guild," pursued Friar 
Bacon. ** Pray which one of the Brotherhoods may it be ? " 

"The Weavers." 

" Indeed 1 Well, that is the most important guild of any ; 

•Gibbins' Industrial History of England, pp. 3$, a6. 



igoz.] A Pen Picture of English Life, 361 

for whatever happens folk must have material 'for clothing. 
Moreover, in Western Europe the weavers have been the leaders 
in every struggle for the rights of the workingman against the 
governing bodies." • 

"And I have a brother in the Tanners* Guild and another 
one in the Bottle-makers', and a cousin in the Dyers' Guild/' 
continued Godmund. ** We craftsmen must pay something every 
year to the king for permission to exist as a guild. But we 
can well afford it. And no person, as you know, is allowed to 
follow a craft without he be a member of a guild. If we break 
a law we do have a court of our own to try us, and we do 
help one another in various ways ; if we be sick our fellow- 
craftsmen bring us wine and victuals, and our daughters when 
they wed do have a dowry given to them." 

'* And a saving craftsman may raise a pretty good crop of 
young ones," said Friar Bacon, smiling as he looked round at 
seven children rolling about on the floor, all of them with red 
hair except the youngest, whose hair had scarcely begun to 
sprout. 

" Well, being fairly well off, I have a mind to forswear 
my craft and to enter the Merchant Guild," said the weaver. 
" For traders do rank above craftsmen. In sooth the merchants 
are practically the governors of the town ; one must belong to 
their brotherhood in order to trade outside London. And the 
Merchant Guild has an alderman at its head, and the mer- 
chants do journey about and see more of the world than we 
craftsmen. And if a merchant does be put in jail, it matters 
not in what remote part of England, the alderman who is at 
the head of the guild must go, and with the guild's money 
have him set free if he can. " f 

"Well, I hear that the trade of London is growing apace," 
said Friar Bacon. " But I fear its merchants do overmuch 
trading in things of luxury." 

" Ay, our people to-day do number about thirty thousand, 
and we have a good trade with France in silks, gems, ivory, 
wine, and pigments," answered Godmund. "Ay, we are 
growing richer and richer and richer." Here he rubbed his 
hands and sighed because he was not yet a member of the 
Merchant Guild. 

•Ashley, English Economic History and Theory, p. 8i. 
Mbid., p. 75. 



362 A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. [Dec, 

" Auri sacra fantes^** murmured Friar Bacon, shaking his 
head. Then aloud he said: '* But when you rise to be a mer- 
chant and an alderman, be not ashamed because you were at 
one time a weaver and because your forefathers were villeins 
bound to the soil." 

'' I '11 tell nobody about that," said Godmund to himself and 
laughing inwardly. 

At this moment angry voices were heard out in the street, 
and presently there was a loud thump on the door and a be- 
seeching cry : ** Let me in ; let me in ! " 

" Nay, nay, don't open it ; it may cost us our lives," ex- 
claimed the weaver. But he spoke too late; Friar Bacon had 
already unbolted the massive oaken. door, and in rushed a ter- 
ror-stricken man with long, black beard and blood streaming 
down his face. Then in a trice the door was bolted again. 

" Alas ! " ejaculated Friar Bacon, " I fear 'tis another out- 
break against the Jews. Well, here is one of the unfortunates 
whom I'll hide from the silly populace"; and so saying he 
bade the quaking Israelite to go crouch in a corner of the 
room; then over him he flung a big bundle of cloth. 

" Ay, to be sure : they are being hunted for poisoning the 
wells," said Godmund. ** One family in every three is down 
with a fever; ay, the Jews have poisoned the wells." 

"Not the Jews but your own filthy selves have let horrible 
stuff get into your drinking water," answered Friar Bacon. 
'* Look at the heaps of refuse by your doorways. When it 
rains some of that refuse does trickle into your wells, and one 
of these days a fever ten times worse than this fever will carry 
ye all off to God's acre." 

" Nay, nay, the Jews have poisoned the wells, have poisoned 
the wells," murmured the weaver. Then aloud : ** And they 
do mock too at our religious processions whenever we walk 
past the Jewry: and 'tis a fact that at Oxford not long ago 
the Jews did even attack a Christian procession."* 

" 'Tis unhappily true that poor human nature does often 
make us hate the ones who do hate us," continued Friar Bacon. 
"But think, Godmund, what the Jews have had done to them. 
When King Richard I. was crowned the foolish people did get 
it into their heads that the king had granted permission to kill 
all the Jews ; and accordingly every Israelite who was caught 

• Green's History of the English People, 



I902.] A Pen Picture of English Life. 363 

in the streets of London was murdered. And at York five 
hundred of them, who had taken refuge in the governor's cas- 
tle, being afraid to surrender and believing that the castle would 
be carried by assault, did first cut the throats of their wives 
and children, and then cut their own throats."* 

"Well, the Jews do be overfond of money," pursued God- 
mund, clinching his fists. 

"They no doubt have uncommon wit for making it," an- 
swered Friar Bacon. " But be we not uncommon fond of ston- 
ing them ? Bear in mind that the Blessed Virgin Mary 
belonged to the race of Israel." 

" Well, I cannot gainsay what you tell me about our Blessed 
Mother," said the weaver, " and I do much like to hear you 
talk ; so do pray tarry under my roof this night, and to-mor- 
row we shall sally forth together and see the two witches 
burned on the market-place." 

" Alas ! alas ! In regard to witches the people are as child- 
ish as they ever were," said Friar Bacon. "Why, I have been 
to look at the two women of whom you speak, and who have 
been condemned for holding commerce with Beelzebub, and I 
am convinced they do be only sick in mind. I am told that 
they have known great sorrow in their lives and they are friend- 
less and poor, and now because they do jerk their limbs about 
and roll their eyes around ye do imagine they are in league 
with the Evil One." 

. " Ay, ay, they have commerce with Beelzebub," continued 
Godmund. "They do hear strange voices and they do act un- 
commonly' queer, and they ought to be burned." 

"Well, well, you shall go to the market-place without me; 
I will not witness the burning of these poor women," said 
Friar Bacon. 

"And the werewolves that do roam through the forests, 
and howl and chase the traders when these do be journeying 
from town to town — what call you the werewolves?" inquired 
Godmund. 

" They are certainly not wild beasts that have put on human 
shape," answered Friar Bacon. "They are human beings like 
me and you, who once had happy homes, but who have been 
made distracted and sick in mind by the cruelty of some master 
who, like enough, did tear out their eyes or impale a member 

• Lingard. 



364 A PEN Picture of English Life. [Dec, 

of their family — a child, a husband, a parent. Did not King 
John, when he could not lay his hands on the barons who 
were defying him in their strong stone castles, turn his for- 
eign mercenaries loose upon the helpless, defenceless villeins on 
the manors ; and, after slaughtering the men,*did not his lecher- 
ous troopers preserve the women for a fate worse than death ? 
But a few did escape, and these became what ye call were- 
wolves." 

" Well, I have indeed heard tell," said the weaver after a 
pause, "that one of my forefathers did have a foot cut off and 
his eyes put out because he shot a roebuck; and now what 
you do tell me about the werewolves and about these two 
poor women who are to be burned to-morrow may after all be 
true. Sorrow and the cruelty of their masters may have driven 
them distracted, and your wise words ought to be spoken aloud 
on the market-place." 

"Alas! my words would fall on deaf ears," answered Friar 
Bacon. " Nevertheless, I have hope that a day will come — it 
may be a hundred years from now — when the ailments of our 
bodies will be studied and be better understood, and then no 
more women sick in mind will be burned as witches. Oh, be- 
lieve me, Godmund, 'tis a woful mistake to neglect the study of 
nature ; for God is the father of nature and He did give it to 
man to study. But 'tis because of my zeal for making experi- 
ments and for wishing to fathom the natural causes of things 
that my brethren do look at me askance, and now they have 
taken away my ink and my parchment and I cannot study and 
experiment any more." 

"Well, what you have spoken to me this evening has set 
me a-thinking, and I do be wiser for listening to you," said 
Godmund. " In sooth, ye barefooted, preaching friars be a great 
boon to everybody — to the villeins on the manors as well as to 
the craftsmen who dwell in the towns. Ye be not haughty, 
but ye mingle with us as though ye were one of us, and we 
do wish ye might drive away the Italian clerics who are flock- 
ing hither. Do chase them back to Italy, if ye can." 

" Ay," said Friar Bacon, " the Italian clerics are getting good 
livings which should be given to Englishmen. 'Tis an abuse 
which is rousing loud complaint, and one day what our English 
ecclesiastics are saying will get to the Pope's ear. In truth, I 
know that Bishop Grosseteste, of Lincoln, did lately write a 



I902.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 365 

spirited letter on the subject to our Holy Father, Innocent IV. 
But 'tis a far way to Rome, and his letter will take many weeks 
to reach the Pope." • 

" And yet despite the invasion of foreign clerics, and de- 
spite the never-ending quarrels of our barons and kings, you 
do maintain that the country is better off than when my fore- 
bears were villeins on the manor of Lord de Granville?" said 
Godmund. 

" I do so maintain," replied Friar Bacon. *' More and more 
Normans are choosing Englishwomen to be their wives, and 
they are learning to speak our tongue, albeit mixing it with 
French words ; more and more towns are having charters granted 
to them ; and King John, as we know, was made to sign a Great 
Charter for his whole kingdom ; more and more villeins are 
getting to be free tenants, and the free tenants do be moving 
into the towns to become craftsmen like as you did; and the 
craftsmen are rising to be traders, and the traders in their 
journeys to the different parts of England do be crying out to 
have the old-time Roman roads put into good shape again, and 
there is a spirit abroad which did not exist when I was a boy. 
Ay, Godmund, while there be dark spots in the sky, I am hope- 
ful of the days to come. Only " — and here Friar Bacon pressed 
his hand on the weaver's shoulder, — " only bear in mind that 
you be valiant and ready to hold fast to the good things you 
have gained." 

** I do promise that for myself and for my children's children," 
answered Godmund. '* And if one of these days an over- 
stubborn king do stand up overstiffly against the people, we 
will teach that king a lesson ; we will teach him that he has a 
joint in his neck." 

" Nay, nay, use not such speech of one who wears the 
crown, albeit he wear it not by divine right," said Friar Bacon. 

" Well, forgive my tongue ; it does run away with me at 
times. But I do now swear that no man of Godmund the 
Weaver's blood will ever shrink from the fight to keep what he 
holds to be his right." 

• L'ngard, Henry III, 



366 THE SANCTUS BELL. [Dec, 



©HE Sangipus Bell. 



BY REV. JULIAN E. JOHNSTONE. 



1 




r 


•J 




L- 


.-" 


'— » .-- 


^•— » 



ARK!. the silver Sanctus Bell! 
Heavenly sound, I love so well^ 
Tinkling sweet and low to tell 
Christ is on the altar! 
Come from Heaven again to be 
Friend of poor humanity, 
Angel-food for you and me, 

As saith the Sacred Psalter. 

Hark I again the sweet bell rings ! 
All the choir of Heaven sings, 
Angels wave their golden wings. 

While the Lord Immortal, 
Veiling all His glory bright. 
Laying aside His awful might, 
Leaves the heavenly halls of light. 

For a lowly portal ! 

Every head is bended low, 
Every soul is pure as snow. 
Faint the pulses come and go. 

And the crowd is breathless : 
Scarce is heard a sound or sigh, 
Every heart is raised on high. 
Where its richest treasures lie, 

And where life is deathless. 

O the blessed Sanctus Bell ! 
Sacred bell we love so well, 
What a mystery it doth tell 
Of the Unbeholden ! 



I902.] The Sanctus Bell, 367 

Him, Who's hidden 'neath the sign 
Of the mystic Bread and Wine, 
Christ the Kingly, the Divine, 
God of Glory golden ! 

O my Saviour, meek and mild ! 
Let me be Thine humble child ! 
Keep my spirit undefiled. 

Pious, pure, and lowly! 
Give, O give me grace each day 
To pursue the chosen way ! 
Keep, O keep me. Lord, I pray. 

From all things unholy ! 

Gentle Jesus ! from my heart 
Let not faith in Thee depart ! 
Spite of sorrow, grief, and smart. 

Spite of scorn and laughter! 
But for ever let the bell 
Of Thy love and goodness tell ! — 
Tell that they who serve Thee well 

Dwell with Thee hereafter! 




VOL. LXX\I«— 34 



368 A P/tACTicAL Talk on Church Building. [Dec, 



A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. 

BY CHARLES D. MAGINN1S. 

I TRUCE to theorizing! Let us grapple with con- 
crete things. We have talked, perhaps, with all 
too vague abstraction on this vexed subject. 
Much has been said in disparagement of native 
endeavor, in extolment of the removed civilization, 
which has been very well. But let us for the nonce come 
down J to every-day and test the applicability of these high- 
sounding principles of ec- 
clesiastical architecture. 
While we indulge in glit- 
tering generalities, the 
pastors of every-day are 
building churches. And 
they do not build church- 
es every day. They very 
much want, therefore, to 
know how to build well 
and worthily, and they 
want to know this, not 
negatively out of the pes- 
simism of aesthetic top- 
loftiness, but directly and 
helpfully in simple prac- 
tical speech. Many beau- 
tiful ideas will have 
naught to do with practi- 
cal speech; which is a 
pity. But cant is barred 
for ever, and that 's a gain 
where art 's a topic. 

In the project of erect- 
ing a church, the judg- 
ment of the pastor is first 
called directly into exer- 



TOW.R OF ST- 


Leo's. Leominster, Mass. 


lample of a refine 


d and dignified Golhic eflecl in r 


brick 


and eray terra-cotla. 



I902.] A PRACTICAL TALK ON , CHURCH BUILDISC. 369 

cise in the selec- 
tion of the site, 
next in the em- 
ployment of the 
architect, and 
then successively 
upon such ques- 
tions as the arch- 
itectural style, 
the building ma- 
terials, the mural 
decoration, the 
ornamental glass 
and the church 
furniture. In the 
disposition of 
some' of these 
matters no doubt 
he will rely much 
on the opinion 
of his architect. 

Church of St. Mary of the Assumption. Brooklinb, Mags. . 

to have an ex- a fine example of Ihe Nonhern Gothic Briisticalljr adjusled 10 

change of views. ^"'^'' malenal*. 

No architect is an oracle and his ideas are always open to 
the discussion of his client, the more if the latter betrays a 
knowledge of his subject. And no architect can be indilTerent 
or lax in an enterprise in which his client takes a sympathetic 
and intelligent interest. 

Let us consider, then, the whole problem of the parish 
church under its salient heads. 

The selection of the site is the first thing to be accomplished. 
Every one knows, including the men who have them to sell, 
that comer-lots furnish the most unexceptional sites for build* 
ings of any kind. But they lend themselves with especial favor 
to the church building. The architectural interest of a church 
is not unusually confined to its facade, but ought to be more 
or less uniform and organic, so that the exposure on two streets 
is very desirable in the interests of perspective. There is the 
practical advantage of obtaining thereby a dignified secondary 
exit to the less important street from the sanctuary end of the 



370 A Practical Talk on Church Building. [D«c., 

auditorium, where the building laws of most cities and towns 
now demand one. If possible, the site should be on rising 
ground, as this will render the structure more imposing. Where 
a basement church is contemplated, this will be especially ad- 
vantageous, as it will be possible to so adjust the building as 
to give entrance to the upper and lower auditoriums from dif- 
ferent streets with comparatively few steps. 

A consideration which would seem to be a very important 
one in the selection of a church site is so generally ignored as 
to Herm a great pity. This is the desirability of providing for 
at leaft such kindred institutions as the rectory and the school 
so RN to form a group in some sort of architectural harmony. 
It i* very common to see these parish buildings distributed on 
■»)iAr«|e sites, with not even uniformity of architectural expres- 
■loll to confeM their relationship to one another. Yet it is 
mt *a«ily possible to arrange beforehand for the ultimate 

artistic group- 
ing of these sev- 
eral elements. 
Given a lot of 
the proper 
capacity, the 
architect should 
be required to 
dispose the in- 
itial building on 
the property 
with a precise 
regard for its 
prospective 
neighbors. In- 
deed, the entire 
>M i'Mi>i>h>, \viiiiiN>>viii.K. Mass. scheme ought 

I u,.,i ^.ni..., (iWNnr.l. luiiftn Gothic in th= jq j,e studied 

' to the extent at 

|„.i..| III il>-i»>iiiili)liiu Hpiiroximately the relation of the structures 
|„,ll, n- Ik |i1itll niitl rxtrrior. 

' J , •■.•.•mhi; (■/ //'«■ anhittct is the crucial point in the 

I i,l> H-ii'*', '•11)1 ili'iniiiiiU nice judgment. On the score of pro- 

|, ,t .i»il Hlillllr, t'lin Hri-liitcct is not necessarily as good as 

il,,, I i|it> niiv liovr excellent mechanical ability with no 



I902.] A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. 37 1 



artistic cultivation. Such an one can build a church according 
to rigid specifications, and the walls will not crack nor the roof 
leak {but this is exaggeration). He will apply the usual per- 
functory oroamentation in the usual perfunctory spots, but 
there will not be a square inch of fine art in the structure. 
How can there possibly be ? Buildings are not designed by 
mathematical formulas. An artistically successful building can- 
not be conceived in the mind of a mechanical architect. On 
the other hand, there is little to be said for the architect who 
has the art to design a graceful building but not the ingenuity 
to carry it into execution, though he has the rarer and higher 
gift, the art without which no architect may claim the right to 
build such a noble monument as a church. When we realize 
that a thousand people may be made habitable in a building 
costing ten thousand dollars, but that, instead, our parish 
churches of this capacity cost from fifty to ninety thousand 



372 A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. [Dec, 

dollars, it will be seen how much margin is devoted, and 
wisely devoted, to the end of making the church worthy of 
its religious destiny. These many thousands are to make for 
architectural grace and dignity. Manifestly, the mechanical 
architect can wisely control the expenditure of only a portion 
of his appropriation, and after this his influence, as a factor in 
the project, becomes pernicious. For he cannot have any 
reasonably true conception of grace and dignity. Thousands of 
dollars have then been given for Art, and there is no Art. The 
roof is tight and the walls are sound, and everything is done 
according to specifications, but those are doubtful virtues in an 
ugly building which make for its permanence. 

In an architect we ought to look first for integrity. He is 
to be entrusted with large responsibilities, and many opportuni- 
ties come to him which 
could readily be turn- 
ed to his personal ad- 
vantage. Let it be 
said, however, that as 
a class architects are 
most honorable men. 
The profession, how- 
ever, has its black 
sheep. He must be 
equipped by sound 
artistic training, and 
by a scholarly acquain- 
tance with ecclesiasti- 
cal art. That he has 
besides the necessary 
mechanical ability will 
be evident by bis pre- 
vious works. The 
best and final test of 
such a man is, after 
all, the judgment of 
his own profession, 
in his profession, let 



Bbnbdjctcne Arch-Abbbv op St, Vincent, We( 

MOBELANl) Co., PA. 

An elaborate example of Romanesque executed In 



And if we would know how he stands 
us question those who stand high in it. 

The atckiiectural style. — The architect having been selected, 
he will proceed to get the conditions of the problem, the 



I902.} A Practical Talk on Church Building. 375 

amount of money to be expended, the seating capacity required, 
the character of the site, and so forth. He is likely to inquire 
if the pastor have a bias in favor of the employment of a par- 
ticular style for 
the new building. 
And this will pro- 
bably develop an 
interesting discus- 
sion. Any one or 
several of the con- 
ditions may, in 
the opinion of the 
architect, render 
some one type, of 
a style which the 
pastor had not 
hitherto consider- 
ed, particularly 
adaptable. 

While we may 
not, therefore, un- 
qualifiedly recom- 
mend a particular ' 
style or type for 

universal employ- "^vix New cathedral at Westuinstbr. Ekgland. 

mpnf it i< nfm^i Illustrating a modem adaptation of Byzantine on a large scale. 

b}e to discuss in a general way the merits of the more available 
styles. It ought to be clearly understood that certain styles of 
architecture are congruous and admirable only amidst the con- 
ditions which evolved them. Climate is one of the great deter- 
mining conditions. Contrast the typical Spanish building wiih 
its small windows, its great wall- surfaces, its heavy eaves, and 
its flat roof with the buildings of northern Europe. Large win- 
dows in a warm climate would admit too much heat, and every 
traveller knows how cool are the interiors of Spain and Italyy 
Small openings, therefore, are characteristic of Spanish architec- 
ture, and consequently large exterior wall-surfaces, which are 
not frittered away with columns, but left to contrast with the 
great shadow from the overhanging eaves. No climatic nec<s- 
sity calls for a high roof, and so a gentte-sloped red tile cover- 
ing of doubtful impermeability generally makes the crowning. 



374 ^ Practical Talk on Church Building, [Dec., 

In a northern latitude, with the inconstant visitations of the 
suo, and the chronic pluviality, such a building would be an 
absurdity. There, instead, we observe the high-pitched roof 
which quickly sheds the water, the great windows which let in 
the sluggish gray light. Thus we can see how the decorative 
requirements of the big interior wall-spaces of southern Euro- 
pean churches developed the great schools of fresco, and, on the 
other hand, how the large window areas of the churches of 
England and France developed there the beautiful art of stained 

glass. 

The climate of the United States is so very diversified that 
a. style which may very properly be employed in the South 
would be something of an exotic if transported to the Northern 
States. It seems a pity, by the way, that the beautiful churches 
of Mexico and the missions of California have not inspired the 
architects of the South. The climate of the North is charac- 
terized by extremes of heat and cold which work the mischief 

with all sorts of 
building, for the 
continual expan- 
sion and contrac- 
tion of the metals 
employed, especi- 
ally in roofing, 
make it difficult to 
insure ' any fairly 
permanent de- 
fence against the 
assaults of the 
weather. The bril- 
liancy of our at- 
mosphere renders 
very lai^e win- 
dows,such as those 
in certain of the 
English .cathe- 
drals, quite un- 
necessary, while 
,. ^:„..„..« r.„.-r.„v m, v,r., ^^e extreme tem- 

icd and peratufes make 

them absolutely 



I902.] A Practical Talk on Church Building. 375 

objectionable. The larger the window, the less capacity has 
the structure for resisting the outdoor tem5>erature. 

The economic condition has an important bearing on the 
selection of style. No fabulous purse is available for the bui'd- 
ing of the average parish church. The exuberances of the 
Gothic cathedral 
ought, therefore, 
to be carefully 
eschewed, as they 
can only be had 
in a sort of scenic 
construct! on — 
mere meaningless 
things without vi- 
tality. It is a 
great but popular 
mistake, however, 
to assume that the 
Gothic style is not 
available when the 
means at hand 

are limited. The chapel of thk Holy Child, Shaboh Hill. Pa. 

charm of this a very pleasing example of vita] interior arcbitecture. 

beautiful style is not dependent on flying buttresses and 
elaborately- carved finials and richly- sculptured doorways. Its 
wonderful elasticity is evidenced by the grace with which it 
lends itself to the simplest expressions. Such picturesqueness 
as distinguishes the little church at Northampton, Mass., was 
achieved most inexpensively. There are no fripperies about it, 
but an air of refined simplicity. The tower is oblong in plan, 
permitting a gabled treatment of the top which suggests the 
quaint towers about Zurich. The church at Leominster (Fig. i) 
illustrates a more formal treatment of the Northern Gothic and, 
by reason of the great tower, of course a more costly one. 
But a simple treatment of this feature would have reduced the 
expense to a very moderate sum. Another excellent example 
is the Church of St. Mary of the Assumption, Brookline, Mass. 
(Fig. 2). 

A kindred style which deserves to be better known and 
more widely enployed in this country is the North Italian 
Gothic, because of its beautiful adaptability to brick, the material 



i-t. A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. [Dec., 

which we find best suited to our pockets. It is distinguished 
from the Northern Gothic by the absence of the projecting but- 
tresses, by the more heavily-accented cornices and the smaller 
window openings, as well as by the detached tower. It offers 
opportunity for interesting color effects by the employment of 
brick of dilTcrent shades. The Church of St. Patrick at Whitins- 
\il1e. MrtKii., in an example of this style (Fig. 3). A more ornate 
fyflHM*'^ '■^^ ^'''' ^^'"^ style, but less characteristic (in that it is 
t^toilirtcd by the introduction of some features of Northern 
\4<«lhlk'), is the excellent Church of All Saints' on Madison 
Avvittiv and 119th Street, New York (Fig. 4). But this latter 

type is not to be 
recommended for 
any but a pros- 
perous metropoli- 
tan parish. 

Of the round- 
arched styles, al- 
ways keeping in 
mind parochial 
conditions, the 
oldest are the 
worthiest The 
Roman Renais- 
sance never de- 
veloped a satis- 
factory ecclesias- 
tical model unless 
we except the 
very monumental 
type illustrated 
by St. Peter's of 
Rome, St. Paul's 
of London, and 

INIERIOB OF Sr^L^EO'S.^L^BO^U^lNST^.R, MASS., LOOK.SG jj,^ PanthcOn of 

eamL-rt by .he ^»x\i. The fafadcs 

loni- for of the smaller 

CO amns and .irthes, churcheS ofRome, 

however, with their great volutes somewhat unfrankly masking 
the aisle roofs, illustrate the immobility of this style when re- 
quired to adapt itself to the clerestory. Flanking towers over- 



I902.] A Practical Talk on Church Building. 377 



R OF Sant' Ahbbocio, Milan, 
An hisloric building which illuslrales a more elaborate inlerior use of masonry. 

come the technical difficulty, but this is a costly expedient. 
Flat aisle roofs furnish another solution, satisfying enough artis- 
tically, but ilat roofs are liable to cause anxiety. 

Some of the phases of the Romanesque period offer excel- 
lent types for our parish churches. Lombardy is particularly 
rich in such artistic material, ihe brick and terra-cotta architec- 
ture of this district being of striking beauty and refinement. 
Perhaps not many actual models could be selected as epitomiz- 
ing the excellence of which the style is fully capable, as most 
of the churches have been subjected to much alteration from 
time to time, but the intelligent architect can gain a great deal 
of inspiration from the beautiful detail which in some measure 
distinguishes all of therii. 

An unusually good building of this Romanesque style is the 
Church of the Blessed Sacrament in the suburbs of Providence, 
R. I., which is in course of completion, and therefore not yet 
available for illustration. Here the tower is placed in the same 
relation as that of Whitinsville, namely, back against the sacristy, 
thus permitting the facade to complete itself symmetrically. 
The large and imposing Benedictine Arch-abbey at St. Vincent, 
Pa. (Fig. 5), gives a very good idea of the possibilities of 



378 A Practical Talk on Church Building. [Dec, 

this brick Romanesque, though this particular design is more 
in sympathy with German models. 

The Byzantine is a style which has a large adaptability to 
ecclesiastical needs. In its fullest expression, of course, it is a 
most elaborate system, as illustrated in S. Sophia of Constanti- 
nople and in the new cathedral now building in Westmin- 
ster, England (Fig. 6). That it is capable, however, of very 
simple expressions may be observed in a charming little building 
recently erected in Germany, of which we give an illustration 
(Fig. 7). This style offers opportunities for beautiful effects 
of color pattern in brick and marble, as is well attested by 
the mosaics of the old churches of Ravenna and throughout 
Sicily. 

This will suffice for a general view of the ecclesiastical styles 
which offer most 
to our enterprise. 
The immediate 
conditions will, as 
we said before, as- 
sist much in the 
determination of 
the particular style 
to be adopted in 
a given case. 
These, however, 
are rarely so in- 
sistent as not to 
leave some room 
for personal bias. 
The Materials.—- 
The next ques- 
tion for considera- 
tion is the matter 
of materials. The 
character of these 
will often depend 
on the style which 
has been adopted 
for the structure. It is not commonly understood that there 
exists any particular relation between style and material. But 
when it is remembered how different are the properties of stone, 




PJTTSBUHC, Pa. 



It»02.] A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. 379 

of iron, and of wood, it will be easy to realize that a design 
which is appropriate in one must be more or less illogical 
when executed in any of the others. Take, for example, one 
of our wooden Gothic churches. The windows have the usual 
pointed arches, 
but the principle 
of the arch has 
no relation to 
wood. The aisle 
walls have the 
receding buttress- 
es, but these are 
hollow. If one be 
unmasked, it will 
be found to con- 
ceal a direct strut, 
entirely at vari- 
ance with the out- 
line of the pseudo- 
buttress. This is, 

of course, mean- " ^^ j^„^,^ ^^^,^^^ Philadelphia. 

ing less architec- 
ture. Wood must have forms of its own. Likewise, but in 
a less marked degree, brick, stone, and marble have each its 
differing expression. Without going too far into the con- 
sideration of such a technical point, let us take an illustration 
from the peculiar properties of veined marbles. Here is a 
material whose charm consists in the delicacy of its surface, in 
the decorative play of its pattern and the beauty of its color. 
Manifestly the more this surface is broken up by modelling, the 
lets effective become all these qualities. Plain unbroken areas 
are better. A very simple design in such a material may be 
extremely rich in effect which, executed in stone, would prove 
crude or insipid. 

For a building designed in the Gothic style stone is the 
most traditional material, although, as we said before, brick may 
be employed with splendid advantage when the design is logi- 
cally and artistically adjusted to it. It is very common, how- 
ever, to see Gothic churches executed in rock-face granite or 
marble, which is much too crude for such a style. Cut stone, 
laid in regular sizes, on the other hand (except in conjunction 



38o A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. [Dec, 

with the most formal types), is not at all appropriate. The 
most artistic results are obtained where the walls are built 
with irregular rubble — that is, with stone of split face and 
of random sizes. A very charming effect is had by using a 
granite known as "seam-face," which has an interesting rusty 
stain This stone may be employed, in districts where it can 
be procured conveniently, at a cost even less than the better 
grades of brick. The brick which appears to the best advan- 
tage in conjunction with Gothic is either an expensive gray 
terra- cotta brick, or else a common brick known as "water- 
struck," laid up in Flemish bond with light mortar. When the 
common brick is used in this manner, the trimmings should be 
of Indiana lime-stone or gray terra-cotta; never of granite. 

For buildings of Classic or Renaissance design stone is 
especially appropriate; but whether it be granite or marble or 
lime-stone, the surface ought invariably be tooled. This makes 
very expensive work. The 
gray brick makes an excellent 
substitute, however, having 
something af the stone quality 
in Tts effect. 

Romanesque churches ap- 
pear happily enough in con- 
junction with rock face stone, 
as may be noticed in Trinity 
Church, Boston. Indeed, al- 
most all of Richardson's de- 
signs were executed in a 
material of this character. It 
is a mistake, however, to as- 
sume that the style absolutely 
requires such a rude texture. 
On the contrary, it may be 
treated with as much refine- 
ment as the Classic styles. 

The Byzantine positively 

demands a refined surface, and 

ST. PATRICKS CATH.„«AL,NB«- YORK. ^^ile this may be readily 

contributed by cut stone. 

The greattsi work of Catholic archileelure in the . . ,  !.■ .  

United su.« bom in poi-t of .i.e and ^rick has an historic associa- 

anisiic nurii. tion with this Style, which is 



I902.] A Practical Talk on Church Building. 381 



Nbw Cathedral, Covjngton, Kt. 

explained by the facility with which the material lends itself to 
interesting effects of color and pattern. . . 

In the consideration of materials we ought to plead for their 
frankest and most logical employment. After what has been 
said already concerning the insincerities of certain expedients' 
commonly resorted to for the simulation of an elaborate archi- 
tecture, it will not be necessary to say more in this respect re- 
garding the external structure. The interiors of our churches, 
however, alTord much opportunity for criticism by virtue of the 
same striving after an effect of sumptuousness which is in- 
compatible with the financial means. Here the architect too ' 
often descends to the level of the scene-painter, representing 
his construction to be of rare marbles, while in reality merely 
plaster of paris, and in other and various ways making humble 
materials play pompous parts which at best create but the most 
temporary illusion. Both good taste and ethics revolt at these 
expedients when employed anywhere outside of the theatre. 
The architecture of the church, at least, ought to be kept free 
from such shams. If real marble cannot be had, let us not be ' 
aihamcd of using only that which we can afford. The use of 
genuine marble implies sacritice, but the use of false implies 
only the pretence of it. And it is questionable whether either is 
essential to devotional feeling. 



j8a A PRACTtCAZ. TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. [Dec., 

Our church interiors in America generally look loo flimsy 

when compared with the churches abroad. There is seldom 

itny masonry or any real confessioa of the structure. There is 

no vitality, no suggestion o£ muscle in our plaster arches and 

c\>lumrt». fla-«ter i* ^«''V "^'^ f*"" « wall -covering, but cut stone 

v»r iiray brick u»«t*-l in the vital lines of the architecture gives a 

splendid crt-N't ^ livinji or^'aotsm. Take the example of the 

iittW Ch*p«l *?( tf»« H^jly Child ai Sharon Hill, Pa. (Fig. 8). 

Otvtv-iv* h"-'* "a"'-'^** ^''' ^**^*?" **»'* serenity there is in this in- 

tcu-.'!* bv t««iS».HX ot" th* «o«e columns and arches, the paved 

rtvH't and th« ♦^l^-'^'f*-* *"*****• There is vitality everywhere. St. 

Iv^V I «fv'»""*t«<: <.fr~'«- 'J^ likewise illustrates this principle. 

»U««i W*"^*'- V'«^»^***^ ^"^"^ "^ different shades is employed, 

.u.»K *» •'*"*^"' ''^ "^^ "'^^'"I'^' ''**^'^^** suggestive of Sant* 

\ii.btvti'>.\ MiUii vt-S '"^'^ ^*"** *" enduring architectural ex- 

. xt .^t *x iMAi k-*- t^^*^ "^"^ ^*- Leo's may be had at an extra 

J. _^_ -■., vrf. .-• ^^-f *rvhitecture may easily be ruined 
by the decorator, 
and it is a prudent 
client who defers 
largely here to the 
judgment of his 
architect The aver- 
age commercial de- 
corator knows abso- 
lutely nothing about 
architecture, has no 
sympathy whatever 
with its lines, and 
consequently cannot 
have any reasonable 
conception of what 
they demand from 
him. Surfaces inter- 
est him only in so 
far as they afford 

^^^^^ opportunity for the 

play of his irre- 

iily tlir architect of the structure can say 

' -foration to the design so as to 



tlir 



1^2.] A Practical Talk on Church Building. 383 



Uksuline Convent, Cleveland, Ohio. 

Illustrating the picturesque character which ought lo distinguish conventual institutions, 

bring out its meaning intelligently and effectively. And here 
it ought to be said that even with this controlling influence, 
not much can be achieved unless the decorator is more than 
ordinarily artistic ; for while the architect may prevent bad 
work, he cannot exact good. The best advice here, as at all 
other stages of the enterprise, is to secure the most accom- 
plished service possible. Better to have a simple scheme of 
color, artistically applied, than an elaborate mess of unrestful 
ornament 

It is difficult to give any practical suggestions of a suffi- 
ciently general nature concerning appropriate schemes of color. 
Some structural material often gives the key, such as exposed 
masonry ; but for plaster interiors, it may be said that a mellow 
effect is the most pleasing. At the moment we recall an ex- 
cellent scheme which will serve for suggestion, as it fits most 
conditions: side and end walls of a color like Spanish leather, 
clerestories of olive green with decorative borders around arches, 
chancel (up to the window level) in rich deep red, with deep 
olive green and gold above ; the columns of old ivory done in 

TOL. LXXTt.— 35 



384 A PRACTICAL TALK ON CHURCH BUILDING. ^ [Dec. 

oH, with the capitals wiped off, allowing the sienna color to 
remain in the crevices of the ornament. The plaster moulds 
ings throughout the interior were treated in a manner similaf 
to the capitals. ^ I 

Glass Decoration, — ^The pastor has generally to decide be- 
tween the merits of two schools of glass design, the European and 
the American. There is much to be said on behalf of each. The 
foreign artist deals with glass which has a comparatively small 
ra-tig^ of color and not much natural decorative capacity except 
virben employed in small scale. Consequently his is largely a 
painter's art. The smoothness ' of the glass as well as the even- 
ness of tint give him an excellent field for that delicate draw- 
ing ^^^ elaborate detail which distinguish his art. The Ameri- 
^^o window, on the other hand, relies largely for its deCoi- 
rativc interest on the glass itself, which is of rich opalescent 
hues. No dependence is placed on painting except in the case 
of the heads and hands in figure work. The draperies, oma- 
menti and accessories are composed like a mosaic, the various 
pieces being selected from sheets, whose accidental effects off 
color and pattern and texture (derived in the manufacture) hold 
infinite possibilities. By virtue of the peculiar qualities of this 
mosaic glass, it does not lend itself to such delicate design as 
that which does so much to popularize the foreign glass. As a 
consequence of its dependence on the beauty of its color and 
texture, it has not developed so high a school of designers. 
There can be no question of the superiority of the foreign de- 
signs of ecclesiastical windows, which are distinguished by a 
scholarliness of conception which we have not reached in the 
art in this country. When all this is said, it must be admitted 
that decoratively the foreign windows are often distinctly fussy 
from a broad decorative stand-point. Much of their littleness 
of design is irrelevant and out of scale. It is to be hoped that 
ecclesiastical design will become a more serious study with 
American glass- workers in the future, so that less dependence 
will be placed on the merely sensuous appeal of beautiful color. 
Foreign glass will scarcely then have so large a market. 



(30Y6B JOSSBLYN, SlNNBI^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMQRE. 



Part III. 



A T THE TURN OF MA TURITY. 



CHAPTER III. 



a 



IN "A YEAR AND A DAY. 



»» 




^a^^a^QQ^ ^^ ^'^^^Z' exulted Joyce, indicating to Stephen 

a glaring advertisement representing Mr. Bull's 
latest and most ambitious bid for public invest- 
ment. " Are n't millions a dandy prospect, 
Morris? I tell you this West of yours is full 
American measure, running over! A man has his glorious 
chance in it ! " 

Stephen studied the assertive type with tantalizing delibera- 
tion. Resenting his silence as a lack of enthusiasm, Joyce mis- 
chievously remarked in audible aside, that " the Maintown 
rectory had taken the fizz out of Morris." 



SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

, Joyce Josselyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farin-lile. conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to suUc a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carruth. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, - 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a floggine with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Camithdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enlers the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic west. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Raymond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter ^ves his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived m San Francisco, Jovce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a bail at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer^ has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce,' fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Phneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life, and 
then comes the great struggle with temptation. Womanhood has lost something of its spiri- 
tual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into a scheme of stock gambling. 



386 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [Dec, 

'' A BOOMING BONANZA I 

THE 

PIONEER MINE, 

ORIGINALLY 

ONE WITH THE FAMOUS SHASTA, 

NEEDS ONLY THE INVESTING PUBLIC TO MAKE IT THE 

GREATEST MINE IN THE WORLD I 
The S HAST A* S glory has passed away ^ — 
The PIONEER takes the lead to-day / 

TO COVER THE COST OF NEW MILLS, CONVEYERS, CONCENTRATORS, ETC., THE 

PIONEER MINING CO. 

OFFER A LIMITED NUMBER OF SHARES TO THE PUBLIC, AT 

ONLY $io PER SHARE. 

Send for Prospectus, 

LOCAL CAPITAL AND PRESS ENDORSE OUR STATEMENT, 

THAT WHEN NEWLY EQUIPPED, THE OUTPUT OF THE PIONEER MiNE WILL BE 

MILLIONS PER YEAR. 
Mjike checks and drafts payable to Pioneer Mining Co., Goldfields, California, 

" Hum 1 *' grunted Stephen, thoughtfully refolding the paper. 
" How deeply are you in this thing, Joyce ? " 

" Only a thousand in cash ; but — " 

" A thousand to the' bad." 

*' Don't croak, you old raven ! Cash is the least of my 
stakes. But it*s a game on the square, so don't be uneasy. 
As director-in- chief after Dicky Dawson, I tell you my mine is 
all right!" 

" It is all wrong — for a novice like you, anyway. This is 
the sort of thing Mr. Raymond dreaded for you, Joyce. The 
West is bristling with just such bush-birds, but not one in ten 
thousand comes to hand." 

''Yet Mr. Raymond made his millions — " 

** Intelligently, not blindly ; and in experienced maturity, not 
in inexperienced youth. To stake your own surplus is your 
privilege; but to risk the little all of others — " 

'* There is next to no risk, Morris ; and in any case, / solicit 
no investors ! " 

" Your name on the board is a standing solicitation. 
Wrecked lives and violent deaths have saddened the West, be- 
fore this, through just such unscrupulous chances as you are 
assuming so lightly." 

Joyce squirmed uncomfortably. His thoughts flew to Hans 

J^auffman, handsome, hopeful, happy Hans, who in his implicit 

in Joyce had induced his mother and sweetheart to forward 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. $87 

their small savings to augment his own investment, and hasten 
the day when he should write the final " Come." Negotiations 
for the little house in Oakland were under way ; and every 
holiday Hans crossed the bay simply to look at the pretty 
cottage set in its own neat plot of ground. Already he had 
apportioned the land with the eye of a master. Here to. the 
rear should be the kitchen-garden, where it would please the 
old Mutter to plant and potter ; here, flowers for Katriua, — the 
brilliant, riotous roses and geraniums, and sweet heliotrope of 
California : with a bed for shoots transplanted from the native 
soil, and an arbor for grapes from the Rhine's fair vinelands. 
It was a hideous thing for Joyce to realize, that should Hans' 
simple hopes indeed be blasted, the guilt must lie at his door. 
But there was a strain of moral irresponsibility in him which 
gaily waived sense of duty to others; and, in truth, his optimiim 
covered his sins of hazard, since who could censure a young 
enthusiast for championing " dead-sure things " ? Yet Stephen, 
misjudging Joyce's fearless confidence as callousness to any ap- 
peal not touching personal interests, persisted in his attack, 
though changing his tactics. . Joyce smiled at the transparent 
manoeuvre. 

''You know that to be a director makes you legally liable, 
in case of disaster," he warned Joyce, solemnly. " Be advised 
in good time, and resign while the bubble floats. Then take a 
run home to your mother." 

But Joyce would not be advised, nor did his mother's loving 
summons, as transmitted by Stephen, command his filial response. 
Once upon a time, — and a time not so very long ago, — he 
could not have resisted it ; but the success that fans ambition 
had changed all that; and now, considering the matter practi- 
cally, he decided that his mining and journalistic affairs must 
be served at the cost of sentiment. 

Yet Stephen found Joyce far from indifferent to native news, 
even the flotsam and jetsam of Maintown's social gossip proving 
of touching interest to him. It amused him vastly to hear 
that his quondam rivals, Jim Blakely and Harrison Jones, were 
flourishing young townsmen now building bridal dove-cots; 
that Mandy Johnson, as Mrs. Lemuel Waters, was Maintown's 
social leader, as well as the proud young mother of bouncing 
twins; and that when the news of Joyce Josselyn's legacy ex- 
cited Main town, she had tossed her head and remarked depre- 



388 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Dec, 

ciatingly that " live men's earnings were more to her taste than 
legacies, any day ; and that she guessed ' Waters* Department 
Store,' taking up the best block on Main Street, was worth 
twice ten thousand, at least ! * ** 

But it was when Stephen described the Maintown farmhouse 
under its mildly transformed aspect, and the active old couple 
under bettered conditions, that Joyce's bright eyes grew tender, 
and his gay smile softened. That Hiram Josselyn still farmed, 
though now with adequate aid against which he protested upon 
principle, while his mother pursued her domestic routine with 
the transfiguring difference that she was now a practical Catho- 
lic, Joyce already knew through letters from his mother and 
•Father Martin ; but Stephen's verbatim account was more real- 
istic and intimate, and stimulated filial memories. 

To Joyce's affectionate inquiries for Father Martin, however, 
Stephen responded only perfunctorily, fearing to betray his own 
soul-struggle by free speech of one so intimately associated 
with it. But in his ignorance of its justification, this reserve 
baffled and pained Joyce, intensifying the mystery of Stephen's 
incomprehensible affinity for the Maintown rectory. It was in- 
credible, if Gladys had favored his suit, that Stephen could 
have submitted so patiently to her prolonged absence. The sur- 
prising possibility that Gladys was still free of heart and hand, — 

" A wontan, therefore to be wooed^ 
A woman ^ therefore to be won^ — 

thrilled him with youth's vague dreams. As Joyce, with all 
his sins, was nothing if not ingenuous, his face and voice, as 
he mentioned Gladys, betrayed to Stephen at least that her 
vision had abided with him : and even such superficial knowl- 
edge of a heart-deep truth startled the man of rigorous stand- 
ards, since the rapid conditions obtaining with the progressive 
Joyce had appalled him, upon arrival. 

"It seems to me that you look super- resplendent around 
here," was his first remark, as he entered Joyce's newly- 
appointed rooms. With the Maintown homestead fresh in his 
memory, the present environment of Hiram Josselyn's son sug- 
gested too sudden departure from the simplicity of natal traditions. 

"Well, the best foot foremost is the rule of ascent," ex- 
plained Joyce, uncandidly. "The world prospers the prosper- 
ous, and vice versa,** 



.1902.] Joyce Josselyn. Sinner. 389 

'' Nonsense ! " refuted Stephen, scanning the languorous 
divans aiid glowing hangings, the artistic statuettes and seduc- 
tive color*- bits of Joyce's transformed atmosphere, with * frank 
disapproval. ''Men. don't care a rap for purple and fine linen. 
They like sterling nature, — not veneer." 

Joyce's blue eyes clouded under a sense of injustice. He 
seemed to stand convicted of pretence and affectation, of snob- 
bish assumption and effeminate luxury, while, in fact, not de- 
moralization but redemptive aspiration had inspired his plunge 
into elegance. In his revulsion from bohemia, and his emanci- 
pation, — inevitable in one of his nature, — from^ the phase of in- 
difference to feminine society which had been the transitory 
after-gloom of Pearl Ripley's glowing day, he had confused 
superficial with intrinsic values, and straining towards Belgravia, 
adjusted himself materially, rather than spiritually, to the finer 
conditions of life. 

It was the natural mistake of the first generation, — of the 
social aspirant, — of the man young in success and new in for- 
tune ; and a& such, pathetic in its crude simplicity, and lovable 
for good-will, though the deed innocently failed it. But Ste- 
phen, when he divined the motive redeeming the material 
ostentation, was more dismayed in his wisdom than he had 
been in his ignorance; foreseeing complications, should the 
feminine trio realizing Joyce's " dreams of fair women " return 
to the Pacific Avenue house. Only recently, his whimsical 
cousin had renewed its lease by cable ; and now Stephen 
almost dreaded the announcement of Imogen's and Gladys' 
return to America. Reports rushing in upon him were not in 
Joyce's favor, even as evil news always " rides post." 

The Colonel, whose shining virtue was not long-suffering 
charity, exploded a whole volley of general complaint, which 
was less of definite blame of Joyce than of indefinite doubt of 
him. On the street, he found the Josselyn name already iden- 
tified with questionable speculations of the wild-cat order. At 
the Club, Joyce was popular as a brilliant young fellow whose 
audacities gave his beauty and talents dash and piquancy ; but 
in the more conservative social circles beyond them, his position 
was less assured, exaggerated accounts of his too intimate asso- 
ciation with the Comedy Girls having aroused conservative 
feminine prejudice. 

Formerly, the man of the world would have dismissed simi- 



390 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Dec, 

lar rumors,— ^not in light mood, indeed; yet with such cynical 
resignation to the inevitable, as is the prevailing sentiment of 
even the most fastidiously moral of merely natural men, when 
youth's springtime madness is mentioned. But the spiritual 
man cannot echo the too generally accepted sophism that 
" whatever is, is right" On the contrary, the piteous wrong 
of much that is, makes him mourn for the human world, even 
as Christ wept for Jerusalem; and the convert's quickened 
moral sense discovered in the too successful Joyce a brand to 
be plucked from the fire. Therefore, in conscientious and 
zealous charity, He affected Joyce's society with flattering per- 
sistency, haunting his rooms till Dick Dawson and his lively 
set retreated in resentful confusion from the grave, pale, silent 
censor, whom they nicknamed '' Banquo's ghost " ! 

Yet the last evening of Stephen's stay in the West came 
full quickly, for the spiritual attraction his return to temporal 
grooves had tested, had survived triumphantly; and the pride 
of life palled upon him, — the weariness and emptiness of world- 
ly vanity oppressed his vivified soul. There is no homesick- 
ness like the nostalgia of the spirit, — no yearning so intense 
and insatiable as the yearning to drain the cup of grace, once 
its sweets are tasted ; and since the problem of Joyce seemed 
a possible menace to his hopes for the future, his return to the 
rectory was impatiently anticipated. The present, at least, was 
his own ! 

His gray eyes were melancholy, his mood sorrowful and de- 
pressed; for he had spent a lonely afternoon pacing the sands 
of Golden Gate Ranch; and the pain of Mina's tragedy had 
revived acutely. Yet sadness failed to banish the new-bom 
strength and peace of his face, which were the outward signs 
of interior regeneration. Spiritual development and experience 
leave a subtly visible physiological impress, and Joyce, whose 
grace was not dead, but only resisted, was conscious of a wist- 
ful heart-pang as he realized that while Stephen had been liv- 
ing nobly, his own finer side had stagnated. 

" Are you going abroad, Morris ? " he insinuated, as time 
passed, and no confidence from the reticent Stephen seemed 
forthcoming. By beating about the bush, Joyce hoped to come 
upon his bird unawares. But Stephen eluded his cleverness. 

"My present Mecca is your native Maintown," he tempor- 
ized. " Once more, Joyce, pull out of the mine, beg the 



.I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 391 

Colonel for a furlough, and take the run back with me. Why 
not ? " 

" Maintown again, Morris ? What 's the attraction ? " 

"My Young Men's Guild," smiled Stephen. 

" Oh, pshaw ! Of course I know there is something invisi^ 
ble to the naked eye under all this Maintown business. Be 
friendly, and speak out to a fellow, can't you?" 

But Stephen not unnaturally found it hard to speak out 
There is a delicacy about the spiritual life, a reserve not always 
nobly simple about the masculine nature, which makes frank 
speech regarding the unseen things of faith almost impossible 
between man and man. 

They had dined in the cafe in which Joyce had entertained 
Pearl Ripley ; and now the glowing lights of the beautiful 
suite were turned on, and the smoking-table set sociably be- 
tween them. Outside, in the darkness, the forces of city- life 
groaned as they grappled; but within the lighted room the 
vital contest was silent, as the two men wrestled in spirit. 

Stephen was the capitulator, with large reserves. It had 
flashed upon him that to confide in Joyce was his last hope of 
influencing him spiritually. His experience must hold its les- 
son for Joyce, as that of a man of his own world and generation. 

''Joyce," he said, earnestly, as he leaned across the little 
table, '' I was a coward to evade your question as to 
Maintown's attraction for me. Frankly, it is the attraction of 
what Father Martin named to us both, at Carruthdale, as the 
' Divine Ideal.' I am absorbing as a man what you absorbed 
as a boy, — the atmosphere of the rectory ! " 

"Yes," mused Joyce, with sudden gentle gravity. "Father 
Martin did his best by me. Poor Father Martin ! " 

"Why 'poor,' Joyce?" 

"Because his best was wasted on me. Oh, I know it all 
better than you can tell me, — the. difference between his ideals 
for me, and my own realities! But, hangf it, a man's got to 
live his human life! We can't all be theological students." 

" No, but between the theological student and the soulless 
worldling there is the noble medium of Christian manhood. 
That is what I am learning at the Maintown rectory. Come 
and share the good lesson with me." 

" Oh, I lack your incentive," ventured Joyce, significantly. 
" My time to turn saint has not come." 



392 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Dec, 

" What do you mean ? " 

" That every fellow turns an ecstatic, in his time, — pro tent.*' 

The challenge was bold, but Joyce could not resist it. He 
had assured himself repeatedly that Gladys' engagement or non- 
engagement really mattered to him not at all ; yet deep in his 
heart, he knew that it might matter, — since maid and man are 
never negative poles. 

Stephen ignored the tender impeachment. As he pulled at 
his cigar in dignified silence, Joyce rose restlessly, and seating 
himself on the window's upholstered sill, betrayed his embarrass* 
ment by mistaking his broadcloth knee for the fire-proof ash-tray. 

" So you are going back to Father Martin," he remarked, 
at last; as Stephen's taciturnity became oppressive. ''Don't 
give me a bad reputation, Morris. It would only pain Father 
Martin ! " 

** Since you care for his pain, why not live up to his ideal 
for you ? " 

" Oh, ' life is real,' " quoted Joyce, though his eyes fell 
guiltily. "The rectory's ideals are for priests, women and men 
whose fortunes are not making, but made." 

" A false proposition, Joyce. Divine Philosophy asks, ' What 
shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world?* I think 
that man's own soul answers, — 'Nothing!'" 

" It profits this much/* differed Joyce, unconsciously reveal- 
ing hidden thoughts as he spoke from his heart, " that if one 
must needs love the highest when he sees it, — and love is a 
pretty big item of life, Morris, — he can count on a fair chance 
of reciprocation not so dissembled that he is kicked downstairs, 
if ' the gain of the world ' stands behind him ! Humble cir- 
cumstances limit a man to humble society ; and humble society 
means real women in a man's life; not the ideal women who 
redeem his materialism. It is one of life's discrepancies that 
its idealities are attained by material means." 

" More is behind what you have said, Joyce. Go on." 

Stephen was right. There was more in Joyce's heart than 
even out of its fulness he had spoken. With the unconscious 
pitilessness of young blood and sensitive temperament, he had 
developed, under the goad of memory, a resentful distaste, a 
proud disdain, for the woman evolved emotionally, rather than 
socially. Adam ate ; then accused the woman of tempting him. 
The first Father has many sons ! 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 393 

" All right," he said, hotly. " I '11 speak oat, since you say 
so, Morris. If you don't like it, just remember you asked me, 
will you ? Well, then, I 've had my fling with the style of girl 
whom wealth and position have not set apart from, — above us ; 
and I tell you, a fellow like me misses his heights with her, — 
though through no fault of hers! Soul and intellect are there, 
like diamonds in the rough ; but they have n't been refined and 
super- refined by generations of all-round culture, any more than 
I her womanly, — not gentlewomanly — physique and manners. She 

can't exhale the atmosphere that shames a fellow's clay, and 
makes him sprout wings, any more than the best- meaning holly- 
hock can impress us like a lily. Well, now, what stands be- 
tween any mother's son of us and the adorable women who 
can make, instead of mar us, at our best ? Money, my son ! 
Base, sordid money ! So you see it * dotk profit * me to gain it ! " 

"There is justice in your view," faltered Stephen, after a 

moment of silence. He was surprised by Joyce's earnestness, 

and perplexed by the social problem presented. " As the world 

is arranged, wealth may be the key to almost all things ; as 

I the soul-life of humanity is constituted, even the key to heaven ! 

But what you forget is, that the golden key to spiritual devel- 
opment and highest human evolution, is by no means their one 
and Qnly key. For instance, the truer the gentlewoman, the 
less she will value material credentials, in comparison with moral 
integrity and honor. I don't want* to preach, on the strength 
of my recent initiations, — but Joyce, my boy, Joyce, Joyce, — " 

•' Oh, forge ahead," flushed Joyce. " You were always a 
perfect fellow, Morris. Of course I know that yours is convic- 
tion made honorable by practice, — not hypocritical cant ! " 

'' I wish only to remind you that it is the man and his life 
that really count, even in the short run," said Stephen, speak- 
ing with diffidence. " Externals, at their best, only frame us 
transparently, for we are known for what we are at soul and 
heart, however fortune and fashion and fame may strive to 
transfigure us. Now your worldly ascent is all right enough in 
its way, but your nobler progression should have kept pace 
with it. There should have been no * fling ' with the lower type 
of woman, since you aspired to the higher. You have mocked 
and profaned your own aspirations, and proclaimed yourself un- 
worthy to attain the star of your desire. ' God's best gift, wo- 
man,' is a sacred trust to us men ; and our irreverence betrays. 



394 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Dcc.^ 

in desecrating it. A clean life, an open record, an undefiled 
heart, make up the equipment of the worthy lover. Lackini; 
these, what is his love but a profanation, — his plea of wealth 
and eminence but an insult implying that woman has her price ? 
While life lasts nothing is beyond redemption, and God forbid 
that I should brand your future with the mistakes of a repented 
past; but the man with a past, Joyce, carries the penalty with 
him. Love is only a dishonor, a torture to him, till the secret 
of his guilt is honorably unburdened ; — and then, he dooms the 
innocent to suffer for him ! " 

" Oh, woman forgives ! " asserted Joyce, with the conviction of 
vast experience. "Don't be too far-fetched, Morris. If her ideals 
knew no compromise, where under heaven would be all the wives?'' 

" She forgives ; but the punishment of the sin abides with 
her. Illusion is lost, and perfect faith blighted. The peace of 
innocence, too, is for ever over. Any day, any hour, the past 
may rise up — " 

'' Not a dead past, thank heaven ! " interrupted Joyce, with 
confidence. 

'' Even dead pasts have their ghosts : and, all too often, 
their resurrections ! Joyce, has a man the right to expose 
an innocent, tender woman, who loves him, to even the menace 
of these ? " 

It was Stephen's last word with Joyce, for he left the 
West on the following day ; and it haunted the wilful young 
heart which, in spite of its weakness, had the seed of future 
good in it. 

The vision of Father Martin and Stephen in congenial com- 
munion in the familiar rectory lingered with Joyce, and became 
his safeguard in hours of temptation. Even as individual memo- 
ries, each had been as a guardian angel to him ; and associated, 
their strength was increased and multiplied. Thoughts began 
to throng upon Joyce that made life more "earnest" even 
though less " real," in the sense of unspirituality : — vital thoughts 
of the life-within-Hfe which men forget, — of the immortality that 
puts on brief mortality for Divine, eternal ends. His face grew 
more serious, his manner graver. He was entering the Advent 
of unrest which precedes the birth of the spirit. Stephen's .re- 
turn to the West had had its providence for Joyce: — but for 
Stephen, — ah^ what for Stephen ? 

The peace of vocative conviction, yes;— nwhich.but intensif 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 395 

fied the pain of new obstacles to fulfilment; since distrust of 
Joyce was a new bond to Gladys, — a seeming call back to the 
world ! By grace of the inspired Exercises of St. .Ignatius, and 
the ' inspiring call-to-arms of the apostolically -zealous Father 
Hecker, his second noritiate under Father Martin, while dupli- 
cating his first, surpassed it alike in spiritual revelation and in 
the active good work without which faith is barren. Yet the 
problem which, since it involved Joyce's betrayal, he refrained 
from confiding to Father Martin, was as an overwhelming temp- 
tation, a seductive sophism, rifting the lute of his peaceful life. 
Never is Lucifer so speciously the angel of light, as when he 
sets up an illusion of human duty in opposition to th6 Divine 
call. It is a snare reserved for the souls of the godly, — a daz- 
zling vision of wings of light that conceal the cloven hoof! 

Little by little, however, the darkness lifted. It had been 
but the desolation counterbalancing spiritual sweetness, — the 
cross upon which the crown of vocative conviction was poised. 
Joyce's letters showed reformation ; Imogen's return to America 
was doubtful, considering her Continental predilections. Gladys 
was one for whom he need not fear, — God carried her in His 
Hand! Yet, as the second summer of her absence waned, a 
strong unrest, an impulsion towards irrevocable decision, pos- 
sessed Stephen. The spirit of autumn was in his pulses; — for 
Nature is Mother to Man. 

All the world has corroborated the poet's legend of spring- 
time; but it is equally true that the season of falling leaves 
spurs laggard maturity to resolution and deed. The presage of 
death makes brief life more precious. As summer mounts the 
colors that prove its shroud, the idler regrets lost time; the 
vacillator realizes that an overlong truce entails lost glory of 
battle; and the empty-handed gaze enviously at their thrifty 
neighbors' sheaves. Thus, it was in the glowing month of har- 
vest, nearly two years after his first coming to Maintown, that 
Stephen realized his long-tried patience to be on exhaustion's 
verge. ^^ How long^ O God^ how long?'* cried his soul, in its 
anguish. And God, who heard his cry, answered. 

The most momentous events of our lives are seldom those 
casting shadows before. While the soul is clad in the garments 
of fiesh, it is in more sensible touch with natural than super- 
natural ordinances; and direct interpositions of Providence less 
commonly grant forewarnings, than flash like lightning upon 



396 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Dec, 

humanity's way. Therefore Stephen felt no presentiment that 
his hour of destiny was come at last, when one evening, ruddy 
with the blended rays of lingering sunset and early moon, he 
quitted the rectory library with a restless sigh, and turned into 
the empty church. Still less did Father Martin, walking down 
to the Josselyn farm with a letter from Joyce open in his hand, 
anticipate the surprise speeding towards him in the shape of 
his cousin Imogen, with the audacious dash of Paris in her eyes. 
Of late, even Gladys' letters had been irregular, and her men- 
tion of return infrequent and indefinite. Meditatively pacing 
the familiar road, the conviction flashed upon Father Martin 
that Stephen's probation was prolonged unnecessarily, and that 
upon his return he must urge upon him his duty to join 
Gladys, rather than defer to her too slow pleasure. Even as he 
took his customary seat by the Josselyn window, the station 
carryall passed the farmhouse at a spirited pace; but his eyes 
did not glance through the pane towards it. He had no intui- 
tion that it was bound for the rectory ; nor of the trio of fair 
passengers in whose honor the proud driver had taken Main 
Street in dashing style. 

It had been Imogen's wilful and persistent whim to surprise 
her kinsmen by an unannounced return ; and she felt somewhat 
discomfited as the housekeeper opened the rectory door only to 
stand inhospitably in the gap, as she announced with due curt- 
ness that Father Martin was " down to the Josselyn farm, and 
like to be out all the evening." Later, relaxing from the ag- 
gressive attitude instinctively assumed towards feminine strangers 
by the guardians of bachelors in and out of the cloth, she 
admitted that " Mr. Morris might maybe in the library, or else-, 
ways, as like in the church"; whereupon Mam'selle, followed 
by Gladys, entered the rectory as a matter of course. Imogen, 
however, with a laughing word over her shoulder, flashed back 
to the carriage, and was driven to the Josselyn farm. The im- 
pulse inspiring her action was sudden, yet it seemed to her, as 
she yielded to it, that it was old as her widowhood. She had 
returned to America bent upon a daring experiment. Her 
mood was perilous to herself, doubly perilous to any one who 
should stand between her and the achievement of her desire; 
most perilous of all to unsuspecting Joyce Josselyn, with whose 
wheel of life Lachesis was toying mischievously, in mere wan- 
tonness of mood. 



I902.] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 397 

Stephen was not in the library, but his presence and Father 
Martin's pervaded the room for Gladys, for Stephen's vivid let- 
ters had made her a sharer of the rectory-life; and the library 
seemed as her own familiar and beloved retreat. The peaceful 
light of the student-lamp illumined the desk, and shone softly 
upon the tiers of books whose duplicates Gladys had studied 
in Europe, following Stephen spiritually and intellectually, as 
his letters recorded his reading. Through a mist of tender 
tears, she seemed to see priest and student in peaceful com- 
munion through the evening hours: Father Martin preparing 
his noble sermons, Stephen glancing up from his book to ques- 
tion and meditate ; earnest speech followed by long silence, 
reverent, contemplative, illuminating, while the bronze clock 
ticked and chimed on the mantel, and the light burned lower, 
with fitful flickerings, as spiritual vibrations thrilled the air, 
like the beat of invisible wings. A wave of exquisite warmth 
flooded her heart, — the indescribable glow that no es^rth- flame 
gives, but that is life's premonition of heaven. It pulsed in her 
throat and quivered on her lips, and shimmered lustrously in 
her eyes; yet. a ^chastened joy, a sweet awe akin to sorrow 
only in exterior sign, possessed her. Human response to the 
deep things, the grand things, the fine and beautiful things of 
life, verges upon sadness only because the exalted is never 
allied to laughter. The tender earnestness, the gentle gravity 
of " the Man Who never smiled," always characterizes the spir- 
itual atmosphere. 

''Shall we not hie to the chapel for our infallible first peti- 
tion, Mam'selle ? " smiled Gladys, referring to a pretty tradition 
obtaining with Mother Church's "little children," — the convent- 
bred women whom no years can age spiritually, because their 
souls, in youth, absorbed heaven. . . 

Mam'selle, with a tired smile, sank into the single easy- 
chair. " Go you, ckeriey* she said. " The young have always 
some dear desire at heart. I shall follow you, out ; but a lit- 
tle later, when I rest me from this first fatigue." 

The tactful half-truth was Mam'selle's little charity. Lack- 
ing absolute knowledge of any romantic relations between 
Gladys and Stephen, her tender intuitions yet suspected their 
existence ; and she felt that if Stephen indeed knelt in prayer, 
it was Gladys alone who should join him. 

The church was in semi-darkness, brightened only by the 



398 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Dec, 

moonbeams filtering through the pictorial windows, and the 
radiations of the lamp of vigil, pulsing like visible heart*beats. 
At the railing Stephen knelt in perfect stillness, his face 
screened by his hand. He did not know he was praying the 
rapt soul's prayer of quiet If questioned, he would have said 
that he was only thinking, — thinking. There was a suggestion 
of weariness not physical, but reacting physically. In truth, 
Stephen had entered the church tired almost unto death of 
conflicting convictions and crucial spiritual, suspense. Simulta- 
neously with Father Martin, by the telepathy of souls akiii, he 
too had determined that his wait by the wayside must give 
place to life on the road. 

At the sound of light footfalls, his startled eyes lifted ; and 
then, neither stirring nor speaking, he gazed stilly at the vision 
his soul-cry had summoned, — the Lord's handmaid, Gladys, 
gliding towards him through the shadows, with shy, sweet eyes 
fluttering, and parted lips trembling on the verge of speech. 

''Stephen," she whispered, as she reached him. Then her 
hand stole into his and she knelt by his side. The Tabernacle 
light flickered towards them. 

Man and woman, — perfect complements, — worthy in mind 
and soul of each other, — and between their human hearts, their 
mortal lives, only the Mystery of the Altar ! Nature, or 
grace, — which would be victor ? Between them, conflict must be ! 

Gladys' spiritual surrender of Stephen had been light enough 
originally, since at that time her love had not responded ; but 
now as she renewed sight and touch of him she realized that 
her heart had grown fonder in absence. The memory of his 
love- words had glowed in her girlish dreams; his letters had 
stimulated her intellect while satisfying her spiritually; and 
judging all new suitors by his splendid standard, she had dis- 
• missed them as mannikins rather than men, and returned as she 
went, — with the fateful feminine difference that she wad a year 
and a long day older 1 The free heart of girlhood is the void 
of maturity ; and Gladys' home-coming had seemed lonely and 
desolate in the human sense, until now when she knelt beside 
Stephen ! 

Under her lashes she stole a side-glance at him. How 
grave he was, how stern, how purely pale, how self- poised and 
manly 1 She liked his calm strength, his proud reserve, his 
passive power.' She felt at peace in his presence, — protectively 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 399 

cherished, reverently cared for ! She was tired of life without 
tenderness^ — without natural womanly dependence. She wearied 
to lean, as she had leaned on her father. The blank of the 
future dismayed and affrighted her. Oh, if Stephen might but 
retain her hand ! 

Her unconscious sob betrayed her. Stephen shrank as the 
soft sound smote his heart with the strength that only tender 
things wield. For an instant he was bewildered, — his thought, 
his impulse alike chaotic. Then, as the mist cleared, the most 
subtle of all temptations stole upon him, — the temptation of 
spiritual delusion. Once again the Divine was shadowed by 
the usurping human. Was not man's highest duty the duty 
nearest his hand ? Was it virtue, or criminal cruelty, to loose 
this white dove to the snares of the fowlers ? Was it doing by 
Gladys as he would have another do by his little Mina ? The 
Golden Rule was the creed of Christ; — and such a woman as 
Gladys was in direct need of his protection. Her mission of 
wealth was a vocative service. What save a false light could 
have decoyed him to desertion of the life-work he had volun- 
teered to share ? Of a sudden, renunciation of the world and 
its wearisome pomps, its satiating vanities, seemed no sacrificial 
response to the call to perfection, but only mere selfish in- 
dulgence of solitary and simple personal taste ! His keen sense 
of the soul-life was benumbed and blunted; his recent aspira- 
tions became in memory but vague, intangible, unreal things, — 
ideally high and pure, indeed, — satisfying self-esteem, and sus- 
taining vainglory ; — yet visions and dreams, ecstatical fancies, 
disproved by the challenge of life ! 

Then, as was inevitable, since the incarnate soul must be 
swayed by the human, the warmth of the woman-hand still 
nestling in his hold burned its way to his manly heart. Temp- 
tation grew less subtle, less spiritual, less impersonal. It sug- 
gested boldly that duty 'Divine and human, — chivalrous obliga- 
tion, — were much, but not all of masculine life : — that man's in- 
alienable right, his sacred privilege, was the life of his heart, — 
bis love- life! Tender courtship, sacramental marriage, — what 
human possibility could be more pure, more noble, since unsel- 
fish in service, and immortal in issue ? Suddenly he recognized 
long loneliness, long heart-hunger. The social apostolate, the 
philanthropical mission of great fortune, — marital honor, the 
sweet dignity of paternity, was vividly his vision. To stand 

VOL. LXXVI. — 26 



400 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Dec, 

aside from full and perfect life's opportunities and perpetuity 
no longer seemed holiness, but she^est fanaticism, — barren 
egoism ! True religion was the sane union of nature and 
grace; humble acceptance, not presumptuous selection, of God's 
ordinances ! 

Unnoticed by the two absorbed in self and each other, the 
door at the rear of the church had opened, and a woman 
mounted the choir- stairs. She turned on the gas, but its feeble 
light lost itself in the nave's deep gloom ; and she failed to 
discern the kneeling figures. She was the organist, who came 
almost nightly for practice ; but the service of song was her 
heart's desire, and her sweet but untrained voice often lifted its 
petition when she believed herself quite alone. 

Her fingers skimmed the keys in a haunting voluntary 
which floated on the silence like a ripple on still waters; then, 
improvising, modulating, preluding, she drifted into a free trans- 
lation, an impromptu rendering of the divine invocation, — 

"VENI, CREATOR SPIRITUS. 

" Holy Spirit ! Lord of Light, 
From Thy clear celestial height, 
Venif Sancte Spiritus ! 

Come with grace and heav'nly aid. 
Fill the hearts that Thou hast made, — 
Veni^ Sancte Spiritus / 

Paraclete, to Thee we cry. 
Highest Gift of God Most High, — 
Veni, Sancte Spiritus/ 

Light Immortal ! Light Divine ! 
Visit Thou these hearts of Thine, — 
Veni, Sancte Spiritus / " 

Above them, around them, the pleading notes pulsed like 
ecstatic sobs. The singer sang better than she knew. The 
Spirit had inspired her. 

Sometimes as the prayer for self ascends, its descending 
answer is the grace of others. Thus the Divine Light that the 
singer asked flashed clearly, then and there, upon Stephen. On 
the wings of the art echoing heaven's hosannas, the Dove sought 



I902.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 401 

the soul called to follow the Lamb, and set the white seal of 
choice tipon it! Doubt, desolation, temptation, fled before 
apocalypse, even as shadows flee before the morning. Stephen 
no longer knew that doubt had existed, — that temptation ever 
had been 1 

For even as the organ still thrilled with music, and the 
sweet voice lingered amid the echoes, Stephen *' heard a voice 
from heaven as the noise of many waters, and as the voice of 
great thunder, and the voice . . . was as the voice of harpers^ 
harping on their harps. And they sung as it were a new canti- 
cle, before the throne, . . . These are they who . . . 
were virgins. These follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. 
These are purchased from among men, the first-fruits to God 
and to the Lamb,** 

And Gladys? 

The woman's allotted part is renunciation. God, man, love, 
the world,— even her own nearest and dearest, — all, sooner or 
later, grind renunciation's sacrificial iron into her shrinking soul. 
But even as God claims. He consoles and substitutes; and 
knowing, as the message of the song reached her responsive 
spirit, that Stephen was called to the palms of victory, Gladys* 
surrender was sweet in its tender pain, and exultant beneath its 
sorrow. In the fluctuating life-flame of the faithful lamp, 
the white Christ of the Tabernacle faced the eyes of faith ; 
and in His patient captivity He looked so wistful, so lonely, 
that to yield Him the soul that could serve and comfort Him 
seemed the office of ministering love ! 

On common impulse both arose, and left the church to- 
gether. The library was empty. Mam'selle, at the first soft 
note of the organ, had stolen noiselessly into the church. 

By the gentle light of the student -lamp Stephen saw that 
time had strengthened and ennobled Gladys' beauty. Her eyes 
had a deeper light; she was more the woman, though no less 
maidenly ; her expression had matured from excessive mildness to 
a gentleness veiling latent resolution. Her dove-gray attire, per- 
haps, accounted for her luminous pallor. Yet, no ! The white 
flame of the soul is sui generis'. It is an inner, not an external 
radiance, — its virginal glory approximated by nothing in the hu- 
man order, and in the natural, only by the warm white bloom on 
the heart of an annunciation lily, steeped in the Springtime sun. 



402 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Dec, 

" You are altered," he said, softly ; '* and yet the same. 
Let my eyes look their fill, my Gladys ! " 

She did not remind him that her hand was still the cap<> 
tive of his strong, close clasp. She knew that it was for the 
last time. 

"You, too, are altered, — and vastly for the better, Stephen. 
My advice was good ? Father Martin has agreed with you ? 
You have been well, and peaceful, and — happy ? ** 

" I have been all that you wished, — all that you prayed I 
might be, Gladys ! And you ? " 

As he released her, she sunk into the' chair Mam'selle had 
deserted, unconsciously grasping its arms for support. She 
trembled emotionally as she glanced up at him, — standing be- 
fore her, towering above her, bending towards her, — a reverent, 
chivalrous man whose love and life-service were hers to claim 
even at this final hour. 

" All my news is old news," she reminded him. " My let- 
ters reserved only our date of return, which Mrs. Raymond 
wished to be a surprise to you. And yours- — yours were won- 
derful letters, Stephen ! You wrote — looking into your soul." 

" Yes," he admitted. " You sped me upon my soul-life, 
Gladys ; so I sent you my notes by the way." 

Then a silence fell between them, — a silence broken only by 
their audible heart-beats. The blood surged to Gladys' face, 
but Stephen's eyes did not leave it. Her soul must be his 
open book to-night! 

" So ' the year and a day,' — a long day, dear, — are ended," 
he murmured. " And after ? " 

" And after, for me," she forced her quivering lips to answer, 
" the active ministry of my wealth-in-trust, for which these 
passive years have been my probation." 

"Yes. And for me?" 

"That is not for you to ask me, but to tell me, Stephen," 
she protested, faintly. " But no I I am selfish, cruel. Words 
are unnecessary. Already, of course, I know ! " 

She had seen his face blanch, and with true woman-instinct, 
sought to spare and save him. That it was hard for him to 
fail her, she knew full well : even though her own prophecy 
was but verified. 

She was not conscious that her tears were falling, or that 
the man's touched heart ached and pleaded for her, even against 



I902.J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 403 

the Te Deum of his detached soul. She knew only that the 
Christ of the Tabernacle had deigned to appeal to her. Should 
she fail His need and trust ? Oh, no, no ! 

" For you, Stephen," she faltered, — " the grand heights and 
depths of life of which I once spoke to you, — where only my 
soul can follow you ! The vision I foresaw has beckoned you — 
above me. Then, you doubted my insight, my presentiment, 
my prophecy; but reading your letters, I knew that light was 
dawning for you ; and to-night — in the church — I think an 
angel sang to us both — the song of the Divine Will ! O Stephen, 
Stephen, yours is the perfect, the supreme destiny ! Gaining 
all, you lose nothing, — nothing ! " 

"And you, Gladys?" 

His tense face, his stern voice, told her that evasion was 
useless. He was not a man to . be deceived lightly. In her 
truth lay his chance of peace. 

" My Stephen," she said with a sob in her voice, " I am — 
only a woman — a young woman, — a lonely woman, and awed 
by the responsibility that lies before me. When we parted, I 
left you without one heart-pang. When we part to-night, I 
cannot say as much ; for I have learned day by day, letter by 
letter, experience by experience, all that your strong, good 
manhood might mean — to my woman-life. But what am I — 
beside Christ ? What is marriage — beside the priesthood ? 
Would I love you if I called you from the great to the lesser ? 
Could I be happy as the defrauder of the gentle Christ ? If a 
word of mine could turn you from your beautiful vocation, I 
would die rather than utter it. *The better part shall not be 
taken from you,* — God forbid ! And Stephen, do not suffer. 
He will not let me — miss you too sorely ! Your prayers for me 
shall be your better substitute, — enfolding me — all my life ! " 

For answer he lifted her hand to his lips. They trembled 
against it, forbidding utterance. That pure kiss was Stephen's 
farewell to the dove of woman. If the kiss was tear-wet, it was 
not his shame but his glory. Christ wept tears of love, and of 
pain of loss, — tears of tenderest human mourning! The most 
Christ-like hearts in the Christian priesthood are the hearts 
that have offered love's white sacrifice ; and Stephen lived to 
bless the day when human love came to him, — love, the key 
to humanity's heart ! 

(to be continued.) 



*! i" 


I9( 


lt)iew8 anb IReviews. 


if 


if 

 



I. Belser: Einleitung in das Neue lestament; 2. Keating: The Agapi and the 
Eucharist in the Early Church ; Batiffol : Etudes d^Hisioire et de Ihkologie 
Positive; 3. Vaschalde: Three Letters of Philoxenus^ Bishop of Mabbogh 
{485-519); 4. Cross: 1 he Anglican Episcopate and the Afnerican Colonies ; 
5. Adams: Lee at Appmnaitox^ and other Papers; 6. Prudhomme-Richet : 
Le Problhne des Causes Finales; 7. Forbes: D Avangklisation des Hommes 
en France et Quelques Rkformes NScessaires ; 8. Nirdlinger : Althea^ or the 
Children of Rosemont Plantation ; 9. Gay : Correspondance de Mgr, Gay ; 
10. Guerber: Yourself; 11. Mann: Lives of the Popes in the Early Middle 
Ages; 12. Robbins: A Christian Apologetic; Robinson: The Study of the 
Gospels ; Swete : Patristic Study ; 13. Bnineau : The Day of an Invalid. 



1, — Dr. Belser* of Tubingen has contributed to Biblical 
literature a work of profound importance. His Introduction to 
the New Testament is occupied with a range of investigations 
which bear upon matters of supreme concern not only to critical 
scholarship but also to the Christian religion. The genuineness, 
the authenticity, and the integrity of the New Testament writ- 
ings — for these three studies form the subject of the higher 
criticism of the Christian Scriptures — certainly are the most 
vital questions of modern apologetic. Even in the field of 
philosophy, in the discussions concerning a personal God, the 
freedom of the will and the immortality of the soul, it is doubt- 
ful whether there is anything to equal in practical and immediate 
importance the issue of the fierce debate which is agitated 
about the august Person of Christ as He is revealed to us in 
Matthew and "Mark, in Luke and John, in Paul and Peter, 
James and Jude. And in no field of inquiry are there names 
of more illustrious scholars : Michaelis, Eichhorn, Hilgenfeld, 
Mayer, Haltzmann ; and on the Catholic side, Richard Simon — 
greatest of all — Hug, Scholz, Langen, whose Introduction was 
written before the Vatican Council, and Kaulen form a corps of 
tireless students and brilliant investigators who have raised the 
science of New Testament introduction to a position of unsur- 
passed influence and dignity. To these great names Dr. 
Belser's is not unworthy of being added. His work is marked 
by the cautious judgment and deep scholarship which befit his 
theme. He has fully explored all the results of criticism, and 

^Einleitung in das Neue Testament. Von Dr. Johannes Belser, Professor der Theologie 
an der Universitiit zu Tubingen. Freiburg: Herdersche Verlagshandlung. 1901. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 405 

while his positions are nearly always conservative, he implicitly 
gives credit on every page to the eminent leaders from whom 
he is frequently obliged to differ. 

Some of the more important conclusions reached by Dr. 
Belser are as follows: i. St. Matthew wrote his Gospel origin- 
ally in the pure Hebrew, not in the popular Aramaic. The date 
of this Urevangelium is about the year 40. 2. St. Mark wrote 
a first draught of his Gospel in Rome in 44, but the work was 
gone over and placed in the public use of the faithful only in 
63 or 64. 3. St. Luke's Gospel was written between 44 and 
64. The Acts were composed before the year 70. 4. The 
fourth Gospel must be dated between 92-96. The Apocalypse 
goes back to 95. 5. As to the great Synoptic problem, the 
conclusions are: St. Matthew is the earliest of the Evangelists. 
St. Mark drew upon the Hebrew Matthew, and also upon St. 
Peter's oral account. St. Luke drew upon St. Matthew, both 
the Hebrew and the Greek; also upon St. Mark, and finally 
upon oral tradition. As to St. John's Gospel, it is entirely the 
composition of the beloved disciple, though the twenty-first 
chapter was written some time later than the rest, and the 
whole composition, as we now have it, was sent out from 
Ephesus by St. John himself, and was used even in his lifetime 
in the Christian Church. 

In upholding his opinions Dr. Belser, as we have said, takes 
into reckoning every achievement and nearly every main hypo- 
thesis of the modern critical school. His plan, too, is orderly, 
and he adopts the eminently useful method of summing up his 
conclusions at the end of each investigation. We must, how- 
ever, notice one or two defects which tend to lessen the utility 
of a great work. There is no account of the history of New 
Testament science — the Geschichte dcr Disciplin, Neither is 
there much of that indispensable auxiliary, an adequate biblio- 
graphy. We regret, too, that the author did not devote a few 
pages to textual criticism, a description of the chief manuscripts, 
etc. And as regards manner of treatment, it is surely a loss 
that Dr. Belser in treating the Synoptic problem did not place 
the parallel passages in a kind of table, so that the state of the 
question might be seen at a glance. Again, certain late hypo- 
theses are quite passed over which we should like to see noticed. 
If Heinrici's striking contribution to the Synoptic problem in 
his Bergpredigt is too recent, at least we should have some re- 



4o6 VIEWS AND REVIEIVS. [Dec, 

ference to Wendt's theory of the fourth Gospel, and to the 
Abbe Loisy's manner of accounting for the Johannine discourses 
Finally, we are sure a great many of Dr. Belser's readers will 
wonder at his treatment of the first epistle of St. John. Through- 
out the entire work the author shows himself especially thorough 
and especially conservative in questions of genuinity and integrity. 
The last twelve verses of St. Mark, for example, receive a very full 
treatment. But when we look for a similar attention given to 
the famous text of the Three Witnesses, in the fifth chapter of 
the first epistle of St. John, we find the controversy as to the 
genuineness or spuriousness of this text absolutely unnoticed. 
It will be remembered that five or six years ago the Holy 
Office issued a decree insisting on the genuineness of I. John v. 
7. Nearly all textual critics now reject the passage ; and so we 
naturally look for a defence of the traditional view in a book 
like the one we are reviewing. But neither for the disputed 
verse nor for the Holy Office has our learned author a single 
word. We repeat, many of his readers will find this more than 
mystifying. 

Still, taken as a whole, this work is profoundly learned, and 
a great credit to the Catholic faculty of Tubingen. 

As a piece of book-making the volume is a thing to delight 
the heart. The illustrious house of Herder is every day deserv- 
ing more grateful attention from every Catholic student and 
teacher. We earnestly hope for a wide circulation for these 
researches of Dr. Belser. And, in concluding, the occasion 
seems apropos for expressing the wish that the time is near at 
hand when no graduate of an American seminary will be 
ignorant of German — unquestionably the language of the world's 
most accurate and thorough learning. 

2 — Here is a pretty controversy. A year ago Mr. J. F. 
Keating presented as a dissertation for the doctorate in divin- 
ity, in Cambridge University, the greater part of the volume he 
has published under the title The Agape* and the Eucharist, 
And Mgr. BatiiTol, the well-known historian of dogma, and 
rector of the University of Toulouse, has taken the Cambridge 
doctor severely to task in the last of the four essays he has 
named Etudes d' Histoire.\ The subject under discussion, the 

• Thf Agapi and the Eucharist in the Early Church. Studies in the History of the Chris- 
tian Love-Feasts. By J. F. Keating, D.D. London: Methuen & Co. 1901. 

t ittudes d'Histoire et de The'jlogie Positive. Par Mgr. Pierre Batiffol. Paris : Librairie 
Victor Lecoffre. 1902. £tude 4, L Agapi, 



I902.] Views and Revieivs. 407 

Agape, may seem to most readers a rather recondite onie, and 
even the historians and antiquarians admit that the whole story 
of the primitive Christian love-feast is most obscure and mys- 
terious. The matter, of course, has been treated before; there 
is not a manual of church history or of archaeology that has 
not summarized the available information concerning the Agap^, 
but it remained for Mr. Keating to do " what has never been 
at all fully done before/' to bring together the sources, to 
examine the heathen and Jewish history for analogies and pos- 
sible precursors of the Christian feast, to give a full and sys- 
tematic exegesis of the texts of the Fathers on the matter, and 
in general to collect and to comment upon whatever testimonies 
are to be found concerning this somewhat enigmatical phenome- 
non of the Early Church. 

Needless to say, his work has been done thoroughly, and he 
has reached conclusions that most readers would think perfectly 
justified by his texts and discussions. He has determined that 
from the existence of religious repasts and "love-meals" among 
the pagans and Jews, there was an antecedent probability that 
the Christian religion, growing up in heathen and Hebraic en- 
vironment, would also have its love-feast; that this probability 
was strengthened and developed into a certainty by the custom 
of our Lord's eating and drinking with his disciples, his '' table- 
fellowship " with them, as Mr. Keating calls it ; that, as a mat- 
ter of fact the practice of assembling and sharing a common 
meal expressive of fraternal charity, did exist among the first 
Christians ; that this love-meal had in the beginning a direct 
connection with the Holy Eucharist (though by no means 
identical with It) ; that this quasi-liturgical custom of common 
entertainment lasted, among the Christians, with some vicissi- 
tudes and some variation of form and meaning and purpose, 
down through the fourth century, when, because of abuses, it 
was generally prohibited by the church. Yet these data are 
not, strictly speaking, " conclusions " of Mr. Keating. Rather 
these are the positions admitted by almost all who have written 
on the subject, and Mr. Keating's especial work has been to 
examine the relations between the Holy Eucharist and the 
Agape, the causes of the separation of the two, and a com- 
parison of documents with a view to elucidating the question 
generally, rather than to proving any historical thesis. 

But Mgr. Batiflol, in controverting Mr. Keating's work, has 



4o8 Views and Revieivs. [Dec, 

not at all confined himself to the minor discussions; he has 
made bold to deny in toto almost every conclusive statement of 
his opponent, to undermine every position taken by him, to 
question every reasoning urged by him, to contradict every 
exegesis suggested by him — in a word, to deny not only any 
liturgical character of the Agap^, not only its connection with 
the Eucharist, but its very existence. 

Evidently, in taking such a radical stand as this, Mgr. 
Batiffol Has opposed not only Mr. Keating, but all students of 
the subject — and even has felt himself impelled to retract much 
of what he himself had previously published on the Agap^. 
And, as we have said, the controvery is a notable one. 

We have neither time nor space in this department to fol- 
low the discussion, but we cannot close this notice without 
recording our firm conviction that Mr. Keating has all the bet- 
ter of the argument. The learned rector of. Toulouse has been 
too learned here, the critic has let his critical sense run wild 
with him, the historian has so far lost his historical temper as 
to argue like a dogmatist for a thesis, and the erudite archaeolo- 
gist has spent his erudition in a most profligate way attempt- 
ing to demonstrate the impossible. He has twisted and turned 
and wriggled away from plain texts, he has in a most unac- 
countable manner perverted the principles of historical criticism, 
he has directed all his energies, all his talents, all his undenia- 
ble skill to the accomplishment of a mere tour de force^ and he 
has failed. The work of M'r. Keating remains still to be over- 
thrown, and we see no reason why any one should try to over- 
throw it. Plainly Mgr. Batiffol considers himself obliged to 
combat a dissertation which he imagines has a secret insinuat- 
ing tendency to invalidate the Catholic conception of the sac- 
rifice of the Mass. In our judgment he is totally mistaken, 
Reading both Mr. Keating's book and Mgr. BatiffoFs criticism, 
we fail to understand how the latter could have suspected any 
such tendency in the work of the former. 

3 — ^The latest doctor of philosophy to come from the 
Catholic University of America has written a degree-disserta- 
tion* which will at once admit its author into the company 

• Three Letters of PhUoxenus, Bishop of Mabbogh (485-519). Edited from Syriac Manu- 
j scripts in the Vatican Library, with an English translation, an Introduction to the life, works, 

and doctrines of Philoxenus, a Theological Glossary, and an Appendix of Bible Quotations. 
' By Arthur Adolphe Vaschalde, member of the Society of the Priests of St. Basil. Roma : 

; Tipografia della R. Accademia dci Lincci. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 409 

of recognized Oriental scholars. Dr. Vaschalde, in this work, 
edits for the first time three letters of Philoxenus, the cele- 
brated champion of Jacobite Monophysitism in the latter part 
of the fifth and the first part of the sixth century. From the 
double point of view of Syriac literature and of the history of 
doctrine, it is of the highest importance that the extant un- 
published works of Philoxenus should be given to the world. 
It is acknowledged that this ancient bishop is one of the mas- 
ters of Syriac style, and it requires but a glance at the theo- 
logical history of his time to discern how great a figure he 
was in the bitter controversies regarding the nature and the 
personality of Christ. It is, therefore, not merely a work of 
ornate scholarship which Dr. Vaschalde has achieved, but one 
of great scientific utility. How well he has performed his labor 
any reader of his dissertation, even one unversed in Syriac, 
may readily discover.^ For not only have we here the original 
text, with a careful and graceful translation, of three doctrinal 
letters of Philoxenus — the " Letter to the Monks," the " First 
Letter to the Monks of Beth-Gangal," and the " Letter to the 
Emperor Zeno *' — but also a fine study of the life of Philoxe- 
nus, with a critical appreciation of sources, a clear exposition 
of the questions at stake in the ancient Christological disputes, 
and a glossary of the theological terms employed in the pres- 
ent docunlents. We commend to our readers who are inter- 
ested in real university work the name of Dr. Vaschalde — a 
name that will surely attract the attention of the erudite every- 
where; and we must add our congratulations also to Dr. 
Hyvernat, the eminent Orientalist who guided Dr. Vaschalde's 
studies at the university. 

4. — Dr. Arthur Lyon Cross has written a volume of the 
highest utility for the student of American ecclesiastical his- 
tory.* It is an extensive monograph on the relation of the 
American colonies to the Episcopalian bench of bishops in the 
mother country; on the vicissitudes attending the introduction 
of American bishops among the Anglicans of the colonies ; and 
incidentally on many an obscure chapter in the early annals of 
Virginia, Carolina, and Massachusetts. The book is admirably 
" documented," as the French put it, and is clearly the work 

* The Anglican BpiscopeUe and the American Colonies, By Arthur Lyon Cross, Ph.D. 
New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 



410 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [Dec, 

of a trained student of historical problems. Those whose studies 
take them into matters cognate with the author's subject will 
find him an invaluable reference. 

5. — Mr. Charles Francis Adams is a gentleman whose dis- 
tinguished culture and wide reading have brought new lustre to 
a celebrated name. The latest volume from his pen will not 
diminish this merited celebrity.* The work consists of five 
essays, the importance of which is indicated by their titles. 
They are: i. Lee at Appomattox; 2. The Treaty of Washing- 
ton; 3. The British Change of Heart; 4. An Undeveloped 
Function ; 5. A Plea for Military History. Of these papers 
the pne which appears to us decidedly the most interesting is 
that on '' An Undeveloped Function." It is a plea based on 
exhaustive examination of American history for the scholar in 
politics. It is a call to every student and teacher in the coun- 
try to present before the people, in the course of a presidential 
campaign, the historical aspect of the issues to be decided by 
popular vote. Such a presentation made in a spirit absolutely 
alien to partisanship would change our quadrennial canvasses, 
Mr. Adams legitimately maintains, from a contest of boisterous 
declamation to a dignified discussion of patriotic and non-par- 
tisan policies. This is a very noble essay, and we hope it will 
be widely read. And we trust that Mr. Adams will continue 
both by his personal action and by his erudite pen to fight for 
the recognition of the scholar and the supremacy of indepen- 
dent thinking in American politics. 

6. — The latest contribution to the immense philosophical 
question of final causes f is a little volume of boundless inter- 
est. M. Charles Richet, professor in the University of Paris, 
recently wrote an article on the subject in the Revue Scien-^ 
tifiqiie. His position is, that while we must beware of ridicu- 
lous excesses in laying down a doctrine of final causes — must 
avoid, for example, such notions as that the whole universe, 
from the oyster to Sirius, has been created just to be a kind of 
dining-hall and picture-gallery for man, — nevertheless, within 
proper limits a true philosophy is constrained to adopt some 

^ Lee at Appomattox ^cmd other Papers, By Charles Francis Adams. Boston: Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co. 

\ Le ProbUme des Causes Finales, Par Sully-Prudhomme et Charles Richet. Paris: 
Fdlix Alcan. 



I902.] VIEIVS AND REVIEIVS. 41I 

kind of finality- hypothesis. Biology and zoology simply thrust 
upon us data which clamor for this hypothesis. M. Richet, 
however, is very cautious in defining the scope which our final- 
cause doctrine should possess. He goes no farther than saying: 
There is in organic Nature a teleological effort — the effort to 
live, to create, and sustain life. Accordingly we may at least 
afErm that the course of things is just what we should expect 
if Nature designedly purposed animal life. ** Tout se passe 
cotntne si la Nature avait voulu la vie,** 

Even this cautious statement of final caiises will arouse ob- 
jections, of course, among all materialists, determinists, and 
extreme Darwinists. These objections are addressed to M. 
Richet in seven letters of M. Sully- Prudhomme. This gentle* 
man writes in a tone of admirable kindliness and candor, and 
with an extraordinary keenness for argument and analysis. He 
discusses anthropomorphism, the Darwinian theory of natural 
selection, the conclusions and methods of modern science, free 
will, and finally that effort of Nature to sustain life which is 
the foundation of M. Richet's position. Every philosopher 
will find the discussion fascinating. For an exercise in our 
philosophy class-rooms an examination of this little work would 
be of incalculable value. We only regret that M. Richet is 
given but little space in reply to his critic's animadversions. 

7. — To all who would learn, from a highly authoritative 
source, just what is the present state of the church in France, 
we urgently recommend a pamphlet* of James Forbes, which 
is now reprinted from the £tudes of last April. 

There can be no disguising of the horrors and the dangers 
now confronting Catholicity among the French. Both in cities 
and in the peasant districts defections, backslidings, apostasies, 
indifference, contempt for religion and disrespect for its minis- 
ters, disclose the nation as already trembling on the brink of 
universal infidelity. For this condition of things, says M. 
Forbes, some responsibility must be laid upon Catholics them- 
selves. They have held aloof from national life, from social 
work among workingmen, and from the intellectual activity of 
the times. The remedy, then, is in a course of action which 
is opposed to aloofness. They must take hold of the spirit of 

^ V £.vangilisatum da Hommes en France et Quelques Rifomus Nicessairts, Par James 
Forbes. Paris: P. Lethielleux. 



412 Views and Reviews. [Dec, 

the country; they must seek out the working- classes and deal 
with them by modern methods; and they must win for them- 
selves a place of honor in the nation's intellectual life. This is 
a summary of M. Forbes' position; but it is supported with 
statistics and the results of personal investigation, which we 
cannot even indicate here, but which g^ve to his observations 
the momentum of indubitable truth. We cannot too strongly 
recommend this little brochure to the Catholics of this country. 
We shall find in it much that will stimulate meditation upon 
our own conditions. 

8* — To the latest artist to busy herself with the entertain- 
ment of our children* we extend our congratulations and our 
welcome. Miss Nirdlinger displays in her first story many 
qualities which point to more than usual merit She is very 
happy in delineating the spirit of childhood; she is skilful in 
conducting the dialogue of the little ones; and she throws into 
her situations a dramatic element which will charm readers who 
have long left their early years. Then her narrative is inspir- 
ing and wholesome, without a suspicion of moral discoursing. 
Children could read few more enjoyable books than this, and 
we trust that the talented young author will rise rapidly to 
eminence. 

9. — ^Those who enjoy spiritual reading of a hopeful and 
encouraging tone — and who can enjoy any other kind ? — and 
those who would learn admirable principles of spiritual direc- 
tion, will be pleased with this volume of the correspondence of 
Mgfr. Gay.t The spirit that animates the great 'bishop's coun- 
sels to penitents is expressed in his own words : " Demandez 
tout ce qui vous manque ^ et agissez comme ne manquant rien** — 
*' Pray for everything you need, but work as though you needed 
nothing." Immense trust in God, but the fullest exertion of 
one's own will — this is his leading principle; and there could 
be none better for a soul that aspires to a life that shall lie 
near to Heaven. 

10. — Children should know something of the principles 
of physiology and* hygiene, it* is universally admitted, and 

* Allhea, or the Children of Rosemoni Plantation. By D. Ella Nirdlinger. St. Louis : 
*' 1904" Publishing Company, 

\ CorrespoTtdance de Mgr, Gay: Lettres de Direction Spirituelle, Paris: H. Oudin. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 413 

even something of the sacred secrets of Nature when 
they arrive at an appropriate age. The difficulty is to 
find books that will give this teaching in a plain and delicate 
manner. An effort in this direction is made in a recent book 
of H. A. Guerber.* In the hands of careful parents it will 
well serve this end. In the hands of parents, we say, for it is 
our opinion that it is solely from them that children should 
learn the mysteries that take place in the fleshly temple of the 
Spirit of God. Accordingly, as a guide-book to parents for the 
teaching of physical laws and processes to their children we 
recommend this book. 

11. — ^The purpose and extent of Father Mann's history have 
already been placed before the readers of The Catholic 
World Magazine. This latest publication f forms the second 
part of the first volume of the work. It treats of the lives of 
the Roman Pontiffs from Vitalian (657) to Hadrian I. (795). 
The pages of this second part are marked by the same careful, 
critical spirit, the same evidences of thorough research, the 
same smooth style that characterized Father Mann's hrst volume 
and caused us to pronounce it a classic of church history in its 
own particular field. Oftentimes events and men of whom the 
author writes have been much obscured, and have left little 
more than a name to posterity ; oftentimes the civil power, 
antagonistic to the Papacy, seems to have overshadowed and 
crushed it, but the Papacy has always endured with the powers 
of renewed, vigorous life and action when the church demanded 
them, and Father Mann's volume is a most telling proof that 
such was the case during those Dark Ages — dark in the sense 
that the world had by no means as yet entirely risen above the 
level of barbarism. 

The two most important Popes of the period under discus- 
sion were Gregory II. — a saint of the church — and Hadrian I. 
The former had to wage war against the Iconoclasts. The 
latter, to whose life the author devotes over one hundred pages, 
was the strong friend of Charlemagne. During his reign the 
temporal power of the Popes was placed upon a stronger 
foundation, and the power of the Lombards was broken for 
ever. Hadrian practically rebuilt Rome on the seven hills, and 

• Yourself, By H. A. Gucrbcr. New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. 

t The Lives of the Popes in the Early Middle Ages, By the Rev. Horace K. Mann. St. 
Louis : B. Herder. 



414 VIEWS AND REVIEWS. [Dec, 

by counselling and materially helping Charlemagne did much 
to extend education and learning for all classes throughout his 
dominions. 

12. — ^The three little volumes • thus far issued in the " Hand- 
books for the Clergy " series give us a high idea of the 
value of the undertaking. They summarize the latest results 
of critical scholarship in matters of theological and apologetic 
interest, and they suggest most admirable methods for the per- 
sonal study of such questions. They are not of Catholic 
authorship, though we remember scarcely anything in them 
which is seriously objectionable. Dr. Swete, however, would 
have done well to omit or modify such a sentence as this: 
" Leo I. composed no great dogmatic treatises, such as we owe 
to Hilary and Augustine; it is perhaps fortunate that no such 
work has ever proceeded from the chair which now claims in- 
fallibility." Dr. Robinson's treatise on Gospel- study is espe- 
cially good. He takes his reader, as it were, by the hand and 
introduces him with the utmost grace to the serious problems 
connected with New Testament study. Until hand-books as 
good as these come from a Catholic source, we think that 
a priest would do well to procure this helpful and scholarly 
series. 

13. — We thank Father Bruneau for his translation f of Henri 
Perreyve's Journie des Malades. Our English literature is en- 
riched by this work of a great soul — one of the greatest and 
the tenderest that has ever lived and suffered, the young Ora- 
torian whom Gratry loved, and with whom he hoped to labor 
for the conversion of France. It tells the sick how to pray, 
how to sanctify suffering, how even in their affliction to be 
glad. It has done great good in the original French, and now 
that it is accessible to a wider circle of readers, we trust that 
it will lie on the table of many a sick-chamber among us, 
whence it shall speak Christ's holy message to hearts in pain 
and souls in sorrow. 

^A Christian Apologetic. By Wilford L. Robbins, D.D. The Study of the Gospels, By 
J. Armitage Robinson, D.D. Patristic Study, By Henry Barclay Swete, D.D. New York: 
Longmans, Green & Co. 

t The Day of an Invalid. Translated from the French of Henri Perreyve, by Rev. Joseph 
Bruneau, S.S. New York : Christian Press Association. 



I902.] Views and Reviews. 415 

14, — If it were only to illustrate the perfection of the 
modern science of historiography, M. Paul AUard's work* on 
the Emperor Julian is worthy of unstinted recommendation. 
Whether or not our historical studies lie in the particular field 
wherein the distinguished author is now engaged, one could 
scarcely do better than to give this work a complete investiga- 
tion. 

A thorough mastery of the sources of his history, a con- 
sistent observance of the passionless method and style that befit 
the exponent of historical truth, and a real power of narrative 
are among the elements that contribute to the success of this 
study. 

The book is now completed by the publication of the second 
and third volumes, the first having been issued in 1900. The 
third volume closes with a chapter on the psychological analysis 
of the character of the Apostate, as evidenced by the pre- 
ceding history of his life. And finally there is an appendix of 
extreme value to the student, giving an enumeration and critical 
review of the sources used in this biography. 

It is needless to recommend further a work the first part of 
which has already introduced itself to the world of scholarship, 
and which has in its favor, furthermore, the prestige attaching 
to the name of M. Allard, once the worthy pupil, and now 
more and more becoming a master of perhaps the ablest his- 
torical school that modern scientific methods have created. 



THE NEW INTERNATIONAL ENCYCLOPAEDIA.* 

Standard books of reference at the present day occupy a 
place in our intellectual life of much greater importance than 
ever before. There was a contention once as to the relative 
influence in shaping the ideas and sentiments of a nation be- 
tween the one who made the laws for the people and the one 
who wrote their songs. In our modern world neither one of 
these persons exercises an influence that is at all comparable 
with the one who writes the reference books for the people. 
The spread of education and the consequent stores of knowl- 

•JuIUh VApostat. Par M. Paul Allard. Vols. II. and III. Paris: Librairie Victor 
Lecoffre. 1903. 

* The International Encyclop<Bdia. Editors: Daniel Coit Gilman. LL.D., President of 
Johns Hopkins University (1876-1901), President of Carnegie Institution ; Harry Thurston 
Peck, Ph.D., L.H.D.. Professor in Columbia University; Frank Moore Colby, M.A., late 
professor of Economics in New York University. . Vols. I., II., III. New York: Dodd* 
Mead & Co. 

VOL. LXXVL— 27 



4t6 V/Eivs AND Reviews. [Dec. 

edge one must possess, and the multiplicity of topics that an 
educated man must be conversant with, make an encyclopsdia 
a necessity for every family library. 

An encyclopaedia, to be of value at all, must be a deposi- 
tory of truth. In its preparation the most scrupulous care 
should be taken to get at facts. Its budget of information should 
be revised in accordance with the latest researches. Its statement 
of points disputed in history or of contentions between scholars 
should be so evenly balanced that the reader may get the 
benefit of both ' sides. When the utmost regard is had for 
strict impartiality then only can the work be commended as a 
book of reference. 

Concerning the New International Encyclopcedia we are not 
prepared to give a final verdict. Much may be said right here 
of the admirable arrangement of this new work. The very 
highest skill has been exercised by the makers in presenting a 
reference work that is handy, comprehensive, scientific, and in 
the presentation of its vast stores of knowledge a remarkable 
availability that renders the work peculiarly useful. The editors 
have done away with the signed article, and have thus made 
themselves responsible for the truth of the information that 
they afford. 

While, of course, we are interested in the creation of such 
a monumental work, we are particularly solicitous about its 
exactness in regard to things Catholic. The doctrines of the 
church and the topics that are peculiarly allied with Catholic 
teaching have not fared happily at the hands of English en- 
cyclopaedia makers. Some one has said that English history 
has been a conspiracy against the truth. The statement might 
be applied with special fitness in regard to things Catholic in 
our standard encyclopaedias. For this reason we are earnestly 
solicitous that this new work, which undoubtedly will be the 
storehouse of information for the coming generation, shall be 
absolutely impartial in its statement of truths concerning the 
Catholic Church. For this reason we shall return to the re- 
view of this encyclopaedia again. 

In this first criticism we are prepared to commend the 
work for its admirable lucidity of arrangement, for its wealth 
of illustration, for its exhaustive and yet comprehensive treat- 
ment of topics, and for the practical convenience with which it 
may be consulted. 



[Dec 

lat an 
psdia 



% It n libtari^ TTable. » » » 



jposi- 

care 7)1^ TabUi (4 Oct.): Apropos of a paper read, at the Catho- 

lould lie Truth Society meeting, mentions Canada as "the 

ment promised land of the little waifs rescued from the 

olars London streets by Catholic charity/' and points out its 

tlie material and spiritual advantages. "The deflection of 

for some of the currents of British emigration from the 

s a United States would serve at once the interests of the 

Empire and of the Catholic Church." 
not Roman Correspondent explains the action of the 

ere Sacred Congregation for Extraordinary Affairs in con- 

;ry demning the theories on ecclesiastical and social policy 

a of Don Romolo Murri — a very clever, eloquent, energetic, 

in and ambitious young priest — "who described Catholicism 

)je of to-day by the simile of a beautiful old building of 

rs the thirteenth century, covered all over with unsightly 

le stucco and incongruous additions — all of which must be 

li removed by Christian Deniocrats before the church could 

be seen in all its beauty. The stuccoes, etc., alluded to 
^ were : ' Semi-pagan customs rehashed, juridical concep- 

; tions based on Roman jurisprudence, philosophical and 

theological ideas elaborated in our schools, monastic in- 
stitutions grown fatally degenerate with the lapse of time 
and incapable of rejuvenation,' and so on. Murri also 
declared himself in favor of the principle of ' a free church 
in a free state.' " The condemnation has been promptly 
followed by the submission of Don Romolo Murri. " It 
will, moreover, be observed that the movement so hap- 
pily nipped in the bud has much in common with similar 
movements which have been condemned in recent years 
in England, France, and the United States." 
(25 Uct): Analyzes and comments on Canon Hunsley's 
paper on Home Reunion, read at the Church Con- 
gress recently held. Home Reunion excludes Roman 
Catholics, and is to embrace and weld together in unity 
Anglicans, Dissenters of all kinds, Scotch Presbyterians, 
and Welsh Calvinists, and the sects of each of these 
varieties which Ireland may contribute. TAe Tablet 



41 8 LIBRARY TABLE. [Dec, 

> remarks that the experience of Protestantism during the 
past three hundred years is that Protestantism and unity 
are self-contradictory. But Mr. Heuson does not mean 
the Catholic notion of unity, nor even the old Prot- 
estant notion. " Home reunion must mean such a mea- 
sure of mutual recognition by the denominations as 
will restrain the exasperation and practical folly of over- 
lapping, will enable the common organization of pastoral 
and evangelistic work, ^nd will terminate the disastrous 
suspicion which now degrades the religious life of Eng- 
land by permitting that fellowship of Christians, as such, 
which seems inseparable from the notion of discipleship." 
But, The Tablet comments, this is merely a modus vivendi 
and not unity, not " one mind in Christ." Conscientious 
men, believing different doctrines among themselves, 
would feel bound to preach what they believed and could 
not pocket their convictions, without doing which work- 
ing fellowship is unthinkable. The Tablet feels that it is 
laying itself open to the rejoinder that such fundamental 
and irreconcilable differences already do exist in the An- 
glican Church, and yet there is Anglican fellowship. If 
Canon Heuson's plea be based on these grounds it can- 
not see how the arguments addressed to his fellow- 
churchmen can well be refuted. But at the same time 
it is surely nothing less than a national calamity to 
debar the ideal of unity in the domain of religion from 
that true ideal : " That they may be one even as we 
also are one." 

The Month (Nov.) : Fr. Tyrrell contributes a philosophical dis- 
cussion of " mysteries," showing that the development 
of higher types of consciousness and personality implies 
a corresponding enlargement of the " mysterious " world, 
and that " the rationalism which would sweep away 
mysteries as mere cobwebs of the mind, would cut at 
the very roots of all progress spiritual and temporal." 

L. I. G. (a thin disguise) contributes a very beautiful 
appreciation of the late Lionel Johnson, poet and critic. 
Fanny L. Green writes on The Monastic Library, Fr. 
Gerard takes Mr. Walter Walsh to task for his method 
of making quotations, viz. : by quoting too little. Fr. 
Gerard illustrates his point from The British Jesuits of 



I902.] Library Table. 419 

the Protestant Popular Papers series by Mr. Walsh. Johi> 
Ty ve gives a sketch of Tom Steele, who was prominently 
associated with O'Connell, and whom he characterizes 
as " impulsive, eccentric, quixotic, with no sense of pro- 
portion to moderate his enthusiasm between things great 
and small; and suffering from a constitutional incapacity 
for dealing with money. . . .*' "He was a high- 
souled, chivalrous gentleman, of much culture and man y 
accomplishments, filled with a single-hearted patriotism, 
and ready at any moment to put his life to the hazard 
for his country or his friends." James Britten con- 
tributes a second paper on Boy -Savers^ and writes prin- 
cipally on the remarkable work set on foot in 1899 in 
Leghorn, and which was the subject of an article by 
Mr. Montgomery Carmichael in The Catholic World 
Magazine for last February. 

The Dublin Review (Oct.): In ''The Power behind the French 
Government" Mr. J. B. Milburn traces the present anti- 
Catholic campaign to the concerted action of Freema- 
sonry, whose illegal power and methods have been vainly 
exposed by the recent Parliamentary investigation. Mr. 
D. MoncriefF O'Connor compares the three dramas of 
" Iphigenia " — the Greek, the French, and the German — 
to illustrate the ennobling influence of Christian ideals. 
"The World Empires of Rome and Britain" — a com- 
parison of these two polities — is founded oh the recent 
works of Mr. James Bryce and Sir Henry Jenkyns. 
From many undesigned historical and geographical co- 
incidences in various parts of the Old Testament, Fr. 
Hugh Pope, O.P., builds an argument in favor of its 
authenticity. " Contemporary Picture of the Religious 
Troubles in England, 1642-3 " is drawn from the Sieur 
de Marsys' history of the trial and death of Charles I. 
Casartelli discusses the Gospel narrative of Matthew ii. 
to show that the Magi were Mazdean priests. Along 
with an account of the Si-ngan-Fu monument Mr. E. 
H. Parker offers his views on the early introduction of 
Christian influences into China. 

The Hibbert Journal (Oct.) : The first number of this new 
periodical opens with an editorial, proclaiming its scope, 
which is to offer a vehicle for all forms of live religious 



420 LIBRARY Table. [Dec. 

thought ''The Basis of Christian Doctrine/' by Profes- 
sor Percy Gardiner, advocates an analysis of Christian 
doctrine from the view*point of religious psychology in 
order to " reconstruct " Christianity. Professor Royce 
discusses from a logical stand-point the concept of the 
infinite, as that of a collection of exactly determinate 
elements. The outstanding controversy between science 
and religion arises, contends Sir Oliver Lodge, from two 
opposite and hitherto unreconciled views of the universe. 
" Matthew Arnold " is an essay from Rev. Stopford Brooks, 
in which he examines Arnold's early poetry to show 
that Arnold missed being a great poet because he was 
so deeply influenced by the religious unrest of his day. 
Principal Drummond contributes a critical paper main- 
taining that the terms " righteous " and " righteousness," 
in both Testaments, are not to be reduced to a forensic 
meaning. "Catastrophes and the Moral Order'' is a 
symposium, on the occasion of the Martinique and St. 
Vincent horrors, concerning the bearing of such events 
on belief in a benevolent Providence. "Three Early 
Doctrinal Modifications of the Texts of the Gospel," 
from the pen of F. C. Conybeare, is a critical examina* 
tion into the authenticity of Matthew ch. i. v. i6; 
chap, xxviii. v. 19; and Matthew xix. 17, Mark x. 18, 
Luke xviii. 19. The journal contains lengthy reviews of 
several recent publications. 
The Church Quarterly Review (Oct.) : A long article on the 
religious conditions of Italy gives warm praise to the 
native piety of the Italian people and the simple good- 
ness of a great number of the Italian clergy. It is 
stated, as a thing to astonish Anglicans, that in a little 
town of 5,000 inhabitants 3,000 people made their 
Easter Communion. The sense of the Lord's sacramen- 
tal Presence indeed is the greatest ground for hope that 
Italy will for all time be a profoundly religion-loving 
nation. Nevertheless there are things to shock one's 
reverence in the popular habits. Spitting on the floor 
of churches, a listless attendance at Mass, blasphemous 
imprecations against a saint who has not granted a pe- 
tition, and a style of devotion which seems to be de- 
rived from sources like "The Glories of Mary," some- 



I902.] Library Table, 421 

times give a hint of latent paganism. The religion of 
Italy^ despite all trials and vicissitudes, shows little like- 
lihood of imdeffpoitig much influence from Protestantism. 

Annales de Pkilasophie Chretienne (Oct.) : P. Turmel concludes a 
study of the book of Daniel with the affirmation that 
recent criticism has definitely destroyed the immemorial 
claim of this book to go back to the time of Cyrus. It 
cannot be assigned to a much earlier date than 168 B. c, 
and Catholic exegetes who refuse all acknowledgment to 
the higher criticism of Daniel simply take up arms 
against an impregnable position and invite one more de- 
feat for the already sadly-battered traditional position 
in biblical criticism. 

Civilta Cattolica (18 Oct.) : Apropos of a recent letter directed 
by Cardinal RampoUa to the Archbishop of Milan, in 
which it is said that some Catholics have been using 
such expressions as " national unity " and the " Italian 
Fatherland " without enough recognition of the temporal 
power of the Papacy, and that this style of expression is 
dangerous and not to be countenanced, this magazine 
declares that unless the Roman See is granted temporal 
independence, it would became in the eyes of the world 
a mere department of the Italian government : and that 
no guarantees short of this temporal independence can be 
considered by the Pope. The case for the temporal 
power lies very close to dogma, since, morally speaking, 
it is only an untrammeled Papacy that can hold in per- 
fect security the divine oneness of Catholicity, 
(i Nov.): An article on "Triumphant Immorality " takes 
occasion of the death of Zola to point out the criminal 
deeds and tendencies which are alarming students of 
modern society. Assassination, anarchy, and peculiarly 
deadly forms of immorality are spreading everywhere, 
overstepping even the bounds of rank and education. 
There must be a return to the simple wisdom of the 
catechism, a greater zeal in teaching, and a greater alacrity 
in learning the first principles of morality, and by con- 
sequence the first principles of faith. 



4 Comment on Current XEopics, 4 



» m ' • m 



Universities are not created in a year or a 

The Catholic dozen of years. They are often the growth 
University and its . /. t -.u u ^ r j 

Future. ^^ generations. In the haste of our modern 

life the thoughtless get impatient with great 
institutions because they do not grow to full maturity over 
night. It is not necessary, however, to say to those who have 
read history aright that universities particularly are institutions 
of slow and steady growth. They are not created by money 
nor are they made by magnificent buildings, but the glory of a 
university is in the scholarly alumni who have achieved dis- 
tinction in the world of intellect. To secure notable achieve- 
ments in the world of intellect it takes decades of years. 

In the dozen years that the Catholic University has cast be- 
hind her she has made wonderful progress. It is a delight to 
come out of the noise and bustle of a restless mercantile world 
and enter the classic shades of university life, with its thought- 
ful dignity and its serious study. The institution at Washing- 
ton is already the pride of the church in the United States. 
In the upbuilding of an intellectual centre everything has been 
planned on deep, broad lines. The mother institution is at- 
tracting to and locating about her seat of learning the most 
progressive elements in the religious life in the United States. 
The Franciscans, the Marists, the Sulpicians, the Faulists, and 
the members of the Holy Cross are already domiciled in their 
respective colleges. The Dominican Studentate and the Apostolic 
Mission House will be built during the coming year, and other 
religious orders are contemplating removing their scholasticates 
to Washington so as to be in touch with the intellectual life at 
the University. 

It is no small compliment to the wise administration of the 
present Rector to say that there is abundant evidence of healthy 
growth in the present life of the University, and that from an 
intellectual, spiritual, and financial point of view the future is 
very bright for this renowned seat of learning. 

The recent country-wide discussion of the 
Catholics and the Divorce evil has focused a great deal of 

public sentiment on the disastrous evils of 
this social plague. It is a great pity that the Catholic posi- 



I902.] Comment on Current Topics. 423 

tion was not better represented. It is a difficult, but it may 
not be considered a hopeless task to bring matters back to the 
proper standard. With most moral reforms it is usually said 
that things must get worse before they can be bettered. It 
often takes the vivid spectacle of disaster and social ruin to 
awaken the consciences of the masses of the people, or to 
arouse them from their lethargy. The deleterious influence of 
the Divorce abomination is that of a poisonous gas which 
stifles and chokes. It benumbs tJie moral sense. It makes the 
head sick and the heart faint, and it dries up at its root all 
love for chastity and virtue. 

Again, it may be likened to a zymotic disease, the poison 
of which fastens on the particles of animal tissue or the primary 
cell of the organism, and by corrupting it corrupts the whole 
mass. Divorce destroys the primary unit of the social organ- 
ism, and by destroying it corrupts society at large. The great 
need before any legislation is attempted is to brrng the people 
to the recognition of the evil. As it is now, there is very lit- 
tle sentiment antagonistic to the lax divorce practices, except 
it be among those who still tenaciously cling to Scriptural 
standards. No better work can be undertaken by a lover of 
his country, or by any public-spirited paper, than to cry out 
and not cease until the American people are awakened to the 
social disaster that befronts them in the prevalent Divorce evil. 

At the recent meeting of the Archbishops 

The Arohbiahops g^^jj ^j^^^i questions as a universal catechism 
and the New _ 

Catechism. ^^^ ^^^ status of the Greek Catholics were 

discussed. There were a number of other 
topics discussed, only to be put aside for further considera- 
tion, or to be referred to the Holy See for settlement — as, for 
example, the difficulties arising from the interpretation of the 
Lenten dispensations, and the prohibition against the use of 
fish and flesh at the same meal, and the practice of celebrating 
Patronal Feasts on the following Sunday. 

The Catechism question, however, referred to above, is of 
most serious importance. It is admitted pretty generally, by 
those who have the care of instructing children, that the gene- 
ration that has grown up under the present Baltimore Cate- 
chism know less of their religion than the previous generation. 
If this be true, it is a terrible indictment against the availa- 



424 Comment on Current Topics. [Dec, 

btlity of the present Catechism. There is another evil now 
menacing us, traceable to the inferior quality of the Baltimore 
Catechism, and that is the multiplicity of catechisms. Not 
being able to use the present Catechism, educators have made 
catechisms of their own, so that there are at least a dozen or 
more catechisms clamoring for public recognition. In the mean- 
time the faith of the children is suffering. In the midst of the 
vagaries of error it is needful that the minds of the children 
be gradually and yet fully unfolded to the knowledge of their 
religion. A good system of catechetical instruction will be the 
most useful means to this desirable end. 

There is some talk of Rome itself preparing a Universal 
Catechism to be translated into all languages. Such a universal 
catechism would be of eminent service, and perhaps there is no 
better solution of the difficulty in this country. A universal 
catechism would possess many' advantages. In all probability it 
would be prepared by the most capable men — that is, men who 
are not only theologians, but who have had years of training ia 
the best methods of imparting knowledge. Such a catechism 
moreover, would be a bond of union between the various counr 
tries of the world. It would do more than any one other thing 
to perpetuate the unity of the faith. The marvel is, when one 
thinks of the advantages of a universal catechism and remembers 
the wisdom of Rome, that this idea has not been put into effect 
before this. The Roman Catechism did such service in the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but it is rather a hand- 
book of primary knowledge than a catechism, and it probably 
will be used as the basis of the universal catechism when the 
idea is made effective. What is wanted is a series of catechisms 
beginning with the most elementary, and finally merging into 
the text books of theology that are used in the seminary, each 
succeeding but enlarging and developing its predecessor. If 
this is done by capable men, with the sanction of Rome, it will 
be a great monument of usefulness. It should be done quickly. 
It cannot be done too quickly to meet the needs of the church 
in this country. A. P. DOYLE. 



1902.] THE Columbian Reading Union. 425 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

IN the presence of a distinguished gathering Mayor Low presided on Novem- 
ber 1 1 at the laying of the corner-stone of the new Public Library, Astor, 
Tilden, and Lenox foundations, on one of New York's old landmarks, the for- 
mer site of the reservoir adjoining Byrant Park, Forty-second Street and Fifth 
Avenue. The ceremony began with an invocation by the Rev. Dr. W. R. 
Huntington, rector of Grace Church, who in the course of his prayer referred 
to the library as "wisdom's house," and invoked the Almighty to strengthen 
its seven pillars and to give sound. discretion to those who will govern its affairs,, 
and asked that the benefactors of the new library be gratefully remembered 
for their munificence. 

John Bigelow, president of the Board of Trustees of the library, read 
from manuscript, and in his opening remarks said that it was fully eighteen 
years since the death of Samuel J. Tilden, the last of the three famous 
philanthropists to whom the city is indebted for the grand institution the 
laying of the corner-stone of which the guests were to witness. 

Mayor Low was then presented for the purpose of laying the comer-stone. 
He received a silver trowel purchased by the architects, who stood beside the 
Mayor as he performed the interesting ceremony. The trowel on its face 
bore an inscription setting forth its purpose, and on its rear it had inscribed 
the fact that it was presented to the Mayor by the architects. Just before the 
laying of the corner-stone a large bronze box was placed in position under 
the big white block of marble. The box contained the usual collection of 
newspapers, coins, and documents and reports pertaining to the present 
and past history of the library. 

Mayor Low then ascended the platform and read an address, in the 
course of which he gave a history of the development of the New York 
Public Library from the Astor, Lenox, and Tilden foundations. He explained 
how the city itself was developing the Brooklyn Public Library with suitable 
branches throughout that borough. But still the prospects of obtaining 
circulating libraries upon an adequate scale for all parts of the city in 
any future that could be foreseen were faint enough until Andrew Carnegie 
offered to supply the necessary buildings, if the city would supply the 
sites for them and make itself responsible for the running expenses. Mr. 
Carnegie's contribution for the buildings will amount to $5,200,000, the 
city's contribution of sites, when complete, is likely to represent more 
than $1,000,000; and when all the branches are in full operation the city 
probably will contribute about $1,000,000 a year for their support. 

So far as the New York Public Library is concerned, the city's obliga- 
tions and expenditures, apart from the erection of this building, are entirely in 
the interest of its circulating department. The Astor, Lenox, and Tilden 
foundations both provide and support the reference library. 

It* may safely be predicted, therefore, that in the near future the city 
of New York will enjoy the most adequate and effective system of free circu- 
lating libraries to be found in any city of the world ; and a reference library of 
the very highest rank. 



426 The Columbian READING Union. [Dec, 

The library system of the City of New York, when completely de- 
reloped upon the lines that have been begun, will be as nearly an ideal 
system as any city could wish. At the centre, in the superb building to be 
erected here, there will be the treasure house of the world's learning. In 
every quarter of the great city there will be a circulating library that will de- 
velop in many a home the taste for scholarship and learning that will result in 
blessing the world in ways not to be measured. 

At the end of the Mayor's address President Wilcox, of the Park 
Department, who presided at the ceremonies, presented Archbishop Farley, 
who was attired in his purple episcopal cassock and beretta. To the Arch- 
bishop was reserved the honor of closing the ceremonies with a brief prayer, 
after which his Grace gave the benediction. 

From the statement here g^iven it appears that the taxpayers of New York 
will be obliged to give a much larger amount of money than the gift of 
Andrew Carnegie. His money will supply only the buildings. Another bene- 
factor should contribute a fund to enable the city to secure the co-operation of 
all parish libraries, which have done so much to foster the love of good reading. 
Under the limited conditions of Mr. Carnegie's gift, philanthropists and 
church-workers can get no recognition or financial aid in their efforts to 
cultivate a love of serious reading. The volunteer service of these altruistic 
workers is worth more to the diffusion of good reading than the millions of any 
individual. It remains for the directors of the New York Public Library to for- 
mulate a plan of co-operation very much broader in its scope than the one 

proposed by Mr. Carnegie. 

• • • 

Francisco J. Montoya Lorenzano, Director of the Catechists, Council of 
St. Vincent de Paul, at Bogota, has sent an appeal for books, pamphlets, and 
other suitable publications for distribution in hospitals and prisons. A read- 
ing room has been started, where a pleasant hour may be spent by those 
seeking moral, religious, and intellectual improvement. Second-hand books 
will be acceptable, and may be sent to the director of the library, in the 

Carrera 9a. No. 188, Bogota, S. A. 

• • • 

The following communications have been received in relation to the edu- 
cational work of the Catholic Summer-School, from Charles F. Wheelock, 
B.S., head inspector of the College and High School Departments of the Uni- 
versity of the State New York: 

Regents' Office, Albany, N. Y., 

September 17, 1902. 
Mr, Warren E, Mosher^ Secretary Catholic Summer-School. 

Dear Sir : Our Dr. Lyttle has filed a report of his visit of inspection to 
the Catholic Summer-School at Clif! Haven, August 11-18. I feel that it is 
only just to you that you should know what impression your school has made 
on our inspector. I am therefore sending you the enclosed copy of his report, 
which is complete except as to a few matters of statistics. I beg to congratu- 
late you on the success which is attending your efforts. 

Very truly yours, Chas. F. Wheelock. 
Following is the report of Eugene W. Lyttle, M.A., Ph.D., Inspector: 
I find that the Catholic Summer-School at Cliff Haven is experiencing a 
steady growth. Somewhere from 600 to 800 people were on the grounds dur- 



I902.] The Columbian Reading Union. 42.7 

ing the time of my inspection. The daily attendance on lectures averaged 

about 400. On August 4 this attendance was thus divided: 

Philosophy, ... 35 Dramatic Art, . . 156 
French Literature, 88 Principles & Methods, 31 
English " 60 Psychology, ... 18 

Total, 382 

r attended most carefully the lectures on psychology, methods, and Eng- 
lish literature, visited with officers, instructors, and teachers, and addressed the 
audience gathered for the Sunday evening concert. I thus had full opportun- 
ity for seeing the whole life and work of the school. 

First, I can commend the school for its thoroughly democratic character 
and the wholesome influences that seem to dominate the place as an educa- 
tional and recreational centre. The students and visitors are free from petty 
vexatious restrictions of all kinds ; yet I saw no abuse of the liberty enjoyed. 
There were abundant material evidences of good management, but the man- 
agement was out of sight. 

The courses of Educational Methods and Principles, of Psychology, and of 
English Literature, which I particularly inspected, were very strong and help- 
ful to teachers, and were true university courses of a high order of merit. The 
courses of psychology and of methods both required much daily reading, study, 
and writing from students. These courses will be accepted as the full equiva- 
lents of university courses in the same subjects by the school authorities of 
New York City. 

Rev. Father Henry's lectures on English Literature were remarkable for 
their clearness, literary appreciation, and breadth. I regret that such excellent 
lectures should not have been arranged with an idea to directly helping 
the teachers of English in New York State. 

I believe that the school will greatly strengthen its good work if, in addi- 
tion to the courses of psychology and methods, other courses on a similar plan 
should be inaugurated as follows: (i) A course of Advanced English Gram- 
mar and Theme Writing ; (2) A course of Advanced History, using sources 
and themes; (3) A course of English Literature for those who desire it, requir- 
ing reading, discussion, and seminars, with special reference to helping the 
English teachers of this State and other States in teaching the college en- 
trance English. These courses should be planned and announced before the 
first of February and thoroughly advertised. 

Something in the way of formal exercises on the presentation of certificates 
at the close of the session would be a proper encouragement to labor. It is 
evident that this school has a probable future of wide and ever-widening 
influence. 

This message of approval will be appreciated by the patrons of the Sum- 
mer-School on Lake Champlain. Teachers and members of Reading Circles 
have rendered most effective service in the work of establishing this intellectual 
centre on Lake Champlain, and the Trustees are now preparing to act on the 

suggestions of Dr. Lyttle for the coming session. Some of our wealthy Catho- 
lics could do a noble service by contributing generously to a fund for the en- 
dowment of the studies approved by the Regents. Donations may be sent to 
the treasurer. Rev. John F. MuUany, Syracuse, N. Y.; or to the president. 
Rev. M. J. Lavelle, 460 Madison Avenue, New York City. M. C. M. 



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>i'K I.Aiiv OF FORHBODIKG {Page 501). 
"My Love, my Dove, my little Son, 

rilyiiiK. held out liis hand to me, 

Anil to ! tliere lay thereon 

A Utile, roBni'White, wounded dove," 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD 



Vol. LXXVI. JANUARY, 1903. No. 454- 



ji new ye,mt'$ prhkr. 

£oip at tiK tbresDoid or fbls iddiu new pear 
I kneel In praper: 
£ord» map It te 
H Cempie unto CiKe ; 
WDereIn eacb rounded dap map stand 
M column grand: 
6rant tbat tl^e walls map be 
or work ror Cbee* 
Witb 7altD ror buttress nrm : 
Hnd ror tbe sDadowIng arcD aDope 
OD, root It wltD Cbp lope» 
Hnd on tbe spire or 6ope 
Cbe cross or Courage set. 
£ord» tbis were pet 
Jin emptp temple and a barren pear- 
Ob, be Cbou present on tbe altar tbere, 
Mnd map tbe Incense or unceasing praper 
make sweet tbe air. 

Cbou» £ord. tbe builder and tbe Inmate be» 
I but tbe mason under Cbee. 
mp bours tbe blocks to raise 
M Cempie to Cbp praise. 

Trb Missionaky Socibtt o» St. Paul the ApostLs in the Stats 

or New YOKK, 1900. 
TOL. UCXTI. — 28 



430 Catholic Citizens and public Education. [Jan., 



CATHOLIC CITIZENS AND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 

A BRIEF STATEMENT GIVING REPORT OF ATTENDANCE AND 
EXPENSES OF PARISH SCHOOLS IN THE CITV OF NEW 
YORK. 

E PARISH SCHOOL is a factor in the public 
educational work of the United States and should 
not be classified under the heading of Private 
Schools, in which large tuition fees are charged 
and social distinctions recognized to favor the 
children of the wealthy. No such limitations are met with in 
the Parish Schools, founded and supported, with few excep- 
tions, by representatives of the common people. 

According to existing laws in New York State, citizens 
hivd the unquestionable right as parents and guardians to pro- 
vide for the religious and secular education of their children. 
This right is exercised by the educational associations, formed 
within pirish boundaries, to establish and perpetuate Parish 
Schools chiefly for kindei^arten training and elementary instruc- 
tion. The citizens who form these societies are sincerely de- 
voted to the public welfare, and would quickly resent any 
inputation a=;ainst -their patriotism. They demand for their 
children definite and dogmatic religious instruction, according 
to the faith professed by at least two hundred and fifty millions 
of Catholics throughout the world. It is well understood that 
the teaching of religion is not within the power of the State: 
neither can the public funds be used in aid or in maintenance 
of any particular form of religious belief. 

At the present time, in New York State, the patrons of 
Christian Education are paying from their own hard-earned 
money the cost of educating about one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand children in the Catholic Parish Schools. For the defence 
of their conscientious convictions, they have erected in many 
places commodious fire-proof buildings, thus relieving their fel- 
low citizens of a large amouat of local taxation. Another 
i.nportant claim is in the fact, that this arduous work of train- 



1903.] Ca thouc Citizens and Public Educa tion. 43 1 

ing the young in Christian virtue is an immense advantage to 
the State. It leads to the highest type of citizenship and sup- 
plies a most effective antidote to false socialistic theories. 
Surely, a pnbfic recognition of the voluntary efiPorts of parents 
to educate their own children would not demand a union of 
Church and State. It would require only an act of long-delayed 
justice to indicate grateful appreciation of the loyal citizens 
whose millions of dollars are spent in the support of Parish 
Schools. Public thanks are given to other citizens for g^fts 
representing much less total expenditure, and of much less value 
to the public welfare. From the statistics given in this 
article, the calculation can be easily made as to the total 
expense on the basis of twenty-five dollars a year, as the cost 
of each pupil. By adding the cost of buildings and property, 
the figures for New York State are to be found high up in the 
millions. 

In presenting our claim to fair-minded citizens, it is assumed 
as a starting point that the Parish Schools can and ought 
willingly to provide for the entire expense of imparting religious 
instruction. Among reasonable people a basis of agreement can 
also be made on equitable terms by which these Parish Schools 
—without losing their autonomy — may co-operate with any 
board of education in the teaching of the secular studies pre- 
scribed for citizenship. The managers, according to this plan, 
legally transfer the control of the secular studies to a board, 
authorized by the State, when they consent to accept the public 
standard of examination and inspection. Between Church and 
State the present relations could be continued without friction, 
by granting this equitable demand for recognition, together with 
payment for results, strictly limited to the teaching of the 
secular studies. To pay for the teaching of arithmetic or other 
similar studies does not bring the State outside of its bounden 
duty to provide for representation as well as for taxation. 
Phantom objections, from bygone bigots, may be placed in 
evidence, but it is to be hoped that sound thinkers will now 
give serious consideration to the real facts of the case. The 
American principle of fair play and no favor can be applied to 
remove, in part at least, the unjust burden imposed upon "the 
patrons of Parish Schools. 

The members of the undersigned Committee represent the 



432 Ca tholic Citizens and Public Educa tion. [Jan., 

City of New York, which is the largest centre of Catholic 
population in the United States, and is under the patronage of 
the glorious Saint Patrick. We venture to express the hope 
that this appeal will have a wide circulation among Catholics 
and non- Catholics. It contains a frank statement of a grievance 
that should appeal to all who wish to advance the welfare of 
our beloved country, and to make the American flag a symbol 
of justice to all God-fearing men. The leaders in Catholic 
organizations seeking to promote religious zeal, civic virtue and 
fraternity among their members, may safely be trusted to spread 
abroad the figures herein given, and to insist that the editors 
of papers, supported by their patronage, shall give some space 
to discussions of their cherished convictions. A similar policy 
should be adopted towards every public official, responsible for 
the publication of educational statistics. In the past there has 
been evidence of a conspiracy of silence in regard to Catholic 
education. 

During fifty years or more in New York City, large numbers 
were taught in the Parish Schools lessons of Christian virtue 
and patriotism. Thousands of these graduates are now voters, 
able and willing to give proof of their capacity for citizenship 
and success in business. To them especially it will be a labor 
of love to assist in the movement to remove false impressions 
and bring about a better understanding of the gigantic work 
that has been done in Catholic Schools for God and our 
Country. 



Committee of 
New York 
Catfiolic School 
Board. 



Right Rev. MONSIGNOR MOONEY, LL.D., V.G., 

Director of the Sacred Heart School, 
Very Rev. DENIS PAUL O'Flynn, 

Director of St. Joseph's School, 
Rev. Michael J. Lavelle, LL.D., 

Director of St. Patrick's Cathedral School. 
Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., 

Director of Schools of Paulist Fathers, 



1903.] Ca tholic Citizens and Public Educa tion. 433 



ARCHDIOCESE OF NEW YORK. 

Report of the cost of maintenance^ number of fupils^ number of Teachers^ 
and the valuation of Parish School Property in the Boroughs of Manhattan^ 
Bronx f and Richmond, New York Cityy for the year ending December ji, igoi. 



Manhattan Borough. 



Nawu, 



Cathedral, . 
St. Agnes, . 
St. Alphonsus, 
Annunciation, 
St. Ann, . . 
St. Anthony, 
Assumption, 
St. Bonifaqe, 
St. Brigid, . 
St. Cecilia, . 
St. Columba, 
Epiphany, . 
St. Francis, . 
St. Fr. Xavier, 
St. Gabriel, . 
Holy Cross, . 
H'ly Innocents, 
Holy Trinity, 
St. Ignatius, 
Imm. Concep., 
St. James, 
St. Jean Bap't, 
St. John Bap't, 
St. Joseph, . 
St. Joseph, . 
St. Joseph, . 
St. Margaret, 
St. Mary, 
St. Mary 

Magdalen, 
St. Michael, 
St. Monica, . 
H'ly Redeemer, 
St. Nicholas, 
Our Lady of 

Loretto, . 
Our Lady of 

Mt. Carmel, 
Our Lady of 

Perp. Help, 
Our Lady of 

Angels, . 
Our Lady of 

Sorrows, . 



Location, 



111-113 E. 50th St., 
152-156 £. 44th St., 
328 W. Broadway, 
West 131st St., 
115-117 E. nth St., 
60 McDougal St., 
West 49th St., 
312-314 E. 47th St., 
302-304 E. 8th St., 
2 1 8-224 E. io6thSt., 
331 West 25th St., 
234-238 E. 22d St., 
146 West 32d St., 
122-126 W. 17th St., 
307-321 E. 36th St., 
332-336 W. 43d St., 
130-132 W. 37th St., 
212 West 83d St., 
46 East 84th St., 
511-513 E. 14th St., 
27-31 James St., 
1 87 East 76th St. , 
206-208 W. 31st St., 
1 1 1 Washington PI., 
420-422 E. 87th St., 
1348 Columbus Ave., 
Riverdale, 
262-268 Madison St., 

523 East 17th St., 
377-381 Ninth Ave., 
406-416 E. 8oth St., 
222-224 £. 4th St., 
121-135 E. 2d St., 

299-301 Elizabeth St., 

443-445 E. 115th St., 

321 East 6ist St., 

229-239 E. 1 1 2th St., 

Pitt and Stanton Sts., 



Pupils. 


Teach- 




ers. 


1,485 


35 


785 


17 


706 


13 


590 


12 


lOI 


3 


887 


15 


537 


II 


261 


5 


742 


16 


1,182 


20 


467 


7 


73'^ 


17 


154 


5 


1,101 


20 


1,694 


31 


1,025 


22 


329 


9 


610 


16 


1,893 


37 


1,008 


16 


345 


8 


337 


8 


1,017 


25 


953 


16 


550 


10 


80 


2 


640 


16 


195 


4 


1,540 


33 


1,020 


21 


829 


13 


420 


9 


723 


10 


848 


12 


35« 


6 


367 


II 


335 


7 



Cost of 
Maintenance. 



$19,689.84 

6,17346 
4,914.05 

979.03 

702.44 

950.09 

1,054.26 

126.50 

6,953.09 

8,452.49 

2,549-35 
6,361.60 

1,093.11 

10,456.21 

12,927.71 

10,865.62 

5,838-99 

4,779-48 

18,658.98 

9,801.41 

2,872.65 

1,793-25 
17,060.69 

13,205.90 
4,905-13 

5,699-43 

1,000.00 
12,912.58 
6,631.39 
4,924.05 
5,368.64 

2,476.99 

3,138.44 
2,012.48 

3,791-97 
6,111.00 



Property and 

Building. 

Value. 



$200,000 

125,000 

125,000 

25,000 

100,000 

30,000 

50,000 

40,000 

39»ooo 
160,000 

75,000 
100,000 

30,000 
180,000 
150,000 
125,000 
125,000 

60,000 

75,000 
150,000 
125,000 

75,000 

60,000 
150,000 
100,000 

75,000 

100,000 

40,000 
160,000 
160,000 
100,000 

75,000 

60,000 
80,000 
50,000 
50,000 
50,000 



434 Ca tholic Citizens and Public Educa tion. [Jan., 



Name* 



St. Patrick, . 
St. Paul, . . 
St Paul the 

Apostle, . 
St. Peter, . 
Sacred Heart, 
St. Stephen, 
St. Stanislaus, 
St. Teresa, . 
Transfigurat'n, 
St. Veronica, 
St. Vincent 

Ferrer, 
St. Vincent 

de Paul, . 



LocaHoH. 



Prince St., 

I20-I22E. IlSthSt., 

124 West 60th St., 
98-102 Trinity PL, 
450-456 W. 51st St., 
141-147 E. 28th St., 
103-107 7th St., 
6-8 Rutgers St., 
29 Mott St., 
116-118 Le Roy St., 
Lexington Ave. and 
65th St., 

116 West 24th St., 



Pupils. 


Teach- 




ers, 
33 


2,100 


575 


10 


1,125 


22 


844 


21 


2,350 


39 


957 


29 


95 


2 


343 


8 


320 


6 


480 


10 


875 


15 


550 


14 


37,453 


747 



Cost of 
Maintenance. 



15,708.48 
3,252.30 

12,006.92 

13,975- 13 
23,819.46 

9,427.20 

207.90 

2,837.49 
982.36 

4,552.14 
8,730.76 
6,257.45 



328,989.89 



Property and 

Buildings. 

Value. 



150,000 
75,000 

130,000 

150,000 

125,000 

150,000 

10,000 

80,000 

20,000 

60,000 

140,000 

75,000 
4,639,000 



Manhattan Borough, 
Bronx Borough, . . 
Richmond Borough, . 

Grand Total, . 



Recapitulation. 



37,453 
2,409 

1,287 


747 
42 

22 


41,149 


811 



$328,989.89 

9,469.73 
5,824.98 



$4,639,000 

200,000 
60,000 



$344,284.60 $4,899,000 



The figures here given indicate only the attendance at Par- 
ish Schools in the boroughs mentioned, excluding colleges, 
academies, and institutions containing children not living at 
home with their parents. It is important to make the distinc- 
tion that the Parish School is in direct communication with 
the home influences, and is to be differentiated from institu- 
tions for destitute and homeless children. In the whole Arch- 
diocese of New York, which extends up the Hudson River as 
far as Newburgh, there is a total of 49,752 pupils in the Par- 
ish Schools. This number, taken in conjunction with the re- 
ports from asylums and institutions, shows about 71,000 under 
Catholic care and instruction. 

By a peculiar juggling of the figures in the official reports 
of education in New York State there has been as yet no satis- 
factory statement concerning the Catholic Schools, no distinct 
mention of the large number of volunteer workers for the up- 
lifting of the masses. Among these workers who have been 
thus deprived of honorable mention are to be found represen- 
tatives of many prominent families enrolled in philanthropic 



1903.] Ca tholic Citizens and Public Educa tion. 43 5 

and religious organizations. ' A census that misrepresents the 
work done by the people of New York State for education, or 
which presents only in a partial way the evidence of their gen- 
erous zeal, deserves severe condemnation. It is to the glory 
of the Empire State that so many of its citizens do not need 
any compulsory law to enforce attendance at school. They 
take the initiative in promoting the standard of intelligent citi- 
zenship. It is to be hoped, therefore, that public officials will 
give adequate consideration to the following summary of at- 
tendance in the Parish Schools of New York State, and the 
estimate of Catholic population according to the dioceses repre- 
senting all the counties: 

Pupils. Catholic Population, 

New York, 49i752 i,2cx>,ooo 

Brooklyn,* 34ii6i 500,000 

Buffalo, . . . 22,712 171,000 

Rochester, . . . I5»734 105,000 

Albany, 15,000 145,000 

Syracuse, 4f943 70,000 

Ogdensburg, .... 3,400 79,000 

* Parish schools of diocese of Brooklyn are chiefly located in boroughs of Brooklyn and 
Queens. 




A 



436 A Modern Guild of artists. [Jan., 



A MODERN GUILD OF ARTISTS. 

BY WILLIAM LAUREL HARRIS. 

'HE agitation that has been carried on during the 
past year for the purpose of elevating the 
standards of religious art has met with a ready 
response among the many artists who are de- 
voted to their profession. The exposure of 
the baneful commercial methods that have pervaded the world 
of art has stirred the professional men to do something practi- 
cal to bring art back from the open street, where its virtue 
has been sold to the loudest bidder, to the studios where it is 
truly at home. The practical scheme that has been inaugu- 
rated is a Guild of church builders and decorators. Thus, with 
the object of advancing religious art there are gathered together 
the most eminent artists of the country. The assistance of this 
group of men is at the disposal of the clergy and of the laity 
who propose to erect public buildings for the use of church 
or society, and their judgment is calculated to create positive 
standards of artistic merit that may be relied on. 

Necessarily the clergy, especially such as live in the coun- 
try, have little opportunity to become acquainted with artists 
of good standing. As a result the general aspect of the 
churches particularly is far from pleasing, and in many instances 
it is so positively hideous as to repel people of refined taste. 
Not only does art suffer thereby, but what is of far greater 
import. Religion loses one of her most powerful agencies, and 
the religious spirit receives a decided set back. It is a fact no 
longer to be winked at, that the situation of church-butlders is 
decidedly unsatisfactory, particularly in the United States. 

The harsh commercial spirit of our time stalks through the 
land, and it does so unchallenged. Following after it we see 
vulgarity, ostentation, and the gaudy tinsel of ignoble pride. 
The nouveau-riche, the parvenu, show their spiritual squalor in 
aimless expenditures for garish pretence or tawdry sham. The 
spiritualty minded Catholic longs for that condition suggested 
by the words of the Second Council of Nicffia: "The Word 
spoken in the churches may vanish; but when fixed upon the 



1903.] A Modern Guild of artists. 437 

wall it remains teaching us the Gospel morning, noon, and 
evening." What religious art might be, is indicated by the 
words cut in stone above the door of the Artists' Guild at 
Sienna : " We are they who make manifest to the ignorant the 
miraculous things done by virtue and in virtue of the Holy 
Faith." 

It is no wonder that in the light of the history .of Catholic 
Art there now comes from every part of Christendom mur- 
murs against the modern commercial standard in church build- 
ing. We have before us the words of Mgr. Paiilmier, Arch- 
bishop of Besan9on, in a letter on the subject of relig^ious art: 
'* Neglecting the fine arts the church is exposed to a double 
peril." These perils are immediate. His Grace the Archbishop 
of Munich has sent to his priests an eloquent warning in this 
matter. He says "that unscrupulous trading in religious art is 
drying up the very well-spring of pious devotion, and is cor- 
rupting a whole nation." So at this moment in all the centres 
of our civilization societies are being formed " to prevent our 
churches from being filled with machine-made goods whose 
ostensible cheapness is their one recommendation." There is, on 
the part of some, a perpetual argument against such societies — 
the argument of expediency. "I cannot," says the prudent pastor, 
" afford to employ a great artist." True be may not be able to 
employ one of the few men who after a hard struggle have con- 
quered fame. But in our large cities are many younger or less 
fortunate men, artists of good standing, whose talents are rust- 
ing out in inactivity. Or if they are working it is for some big 
commercial house which is conducted on sweat-shop principles. 
The poor artist, if he. is thus forced into commercial lines, 
works in some great caravansary, and he works that a presi- 
dent, a secretary, a treasurer, and all their relations may live 
in affluence. He works that a band of travelling men may 
harry the country-side and drive hard bargains with a confid- 
ing clergy. 

Nor is it possible for the artist to be interested in his 
work, under the circumstances in which he is obliged to labor, 
for one thing passes through many hands, and there is no op- 
portunity for individual excellence. One man makes the sketch, 
another man makes the drawing, still another fills in the color, 
and so on, the work being subdivided with the one idea of 
the greatest possible speed, and consequent profit. 



438 A Modern Guild of Artists. [Jan,^ 

The difficulties and commercial obligations that weigh upon 
the most humble artist weigh also upon the most distinguished. 
The painter, the sculptor, and the architect are all victims of 
commercial competition. When art becomes a business, the 
question is not. Can I do more for the church, but can I do 
less ? In the struggle for " success," tricks and subterfuges 
are employed to make a profit when there is no profit in 
honesty. 

Church building, which should be the most noble of the arts, 
often becomes the very meanest. This status of a great art re- 
flects on the artist himself; and he is looked upon, and often 
justly so, as a rascal and a vagabond. And yet in the fine 
periods of church history architecture, sculpture, and painting 
were handmaidens to religion. At the present time a com- 
mercial world prevents the artist from offering his talents di- 
rectly to the church. He is held far off, and is oppressed by 
many a petty tradesman and middleman. Thus the artist, 
deprived of his natural position, has turned as it were to make 
for himself the Golden Calf. Secular art has flourished, while 
religious art has withered away. The decoration of our 
churches has in no way responded to the high aspirations of 
the American people. 

The new movement has been modelled after the ancient 
Guild of Artists. The Architectural League of New York was 
organized February i8, 1881. Its purpose was the promotion 
of architecture and the allied fine arts. It recognized the es- 
sential alliance of architecture, painting, and sculpture by pro- 
viding that the president shall be an architect, and that of its 
two vice-presidents one shall be a mural painter and the other 
a sculptor. For many years the annual exhibition of the 
League has been an important event in the artistic world and 
has enjoyed an ever- increasing popularity. Many important 
movements in New York have originated in the activity of the 
Architectural League. So great has been its success that similar 
organizations, with constitutions modelled after that of the New 
York League, have sprung into existence in nearly all the large 
cities of the United States and Canada. These organizations 
are now combined under the name of the Architectural League 
of America. So it is with every prospect of success that the 
Architectural League of America now begins a propaganda for 
the betterment of Church Building and Decoration. 



1903] A Modern Guild of Artists. 439 

A special committee has been appointecf, consisting of men 
who are eminent in their respective professions. Mr. Charles C. 
Haight, Mr. George L. Heins, Mr. William Laurel Harris make 
up the personnel of this committee. They have been instructed 
by the Executive Committee of the League to inquire into the 
present status of church building and church decoration. The 
object of this committee in New York is equally well set forth 
as the object of the Church Crafts' League, London, England, 
a society organized on similar lines. It is " to bring the clergy 
and others responsible for the construction and decoration of 
churches into direct relation with artists and craftsmen engaged 
upon work of the kind." " By this means to restore individual 
character to art in churches, and to remedy the evil results of 
commercialism in the matter." If this new movement inau- 
gurated by the Architectural League is successful, fresh vigor 
may be expected in church building and decoration. And 
the clergy, who are in a measure responsible for the growth 
of religious art, will be able to come into direct contact with 
artists of assured merit. 

The present plans of the Architectural League are very 
easy to explain. First, they intend to make an exposition of 
modern conditions regarding the erecting and the embellishing 
of churches. As the annual exhibitions of the League are of a 
miscellaneous character, the committee considered it wise to hold 
a special exhibition of religious art. On the evening before the 
opening of the galleries to the public there was a banquet given 
by the artists, at which some of the most eminent of the 
clergy were present. The exhibition of photographs promises to 
be the most extensive that has ever been gathered together. Not 
only will there be photographs from all parts of the United 
States and Canada but selections will be sent from various art 
centres of Europe. Among others Monsieur Fuga, one of the most 
distinguished architects of Lyons, is collecting photographs from 
the centre and the south of France. At Paris the Soci^t^ de 
rSacre has charged itself with the duty of collecting a representa- 
tive exhibit. Such names as Count Guy de la Rochefoucauld, 
Prince d'Arrenberg, Luc Oliver Merson, John Paul Laurens, 
and Gustave de Jaer assure us that the exhibit will be full of 
interest. In London the Church Crafts' League has taken the 
matter up and will send a characteristic collection of works by 
English artists. The names of great artists such as G. F. 



440 A MODERN Guild of Artists. [Jan., 

Watts, R.A., and Sir W. B. Richmond, R.A., guarantee the 
high standard of art that will be maintained. 

After the exhibition in New York is over the collection will 
be shown in all the larger cities of the United States, and in 
Toronto, Canada. - This has been made possible by an arrange- 
ment with the Circuit Committee of the Architectural League 
of America. In each city the photographs will be shown in 
conjunction with the annual exhibition of the local architectural 
clubs; thus wide publicity is assured. 

Evidently a great deal has been accomplished by this band- 
ing together of over a thousand artists; the strength of the 
organization promises well for future work. 

But in regard to church building lasting results cannot be 
obtained without the hearty co-operation of the clergy. There 
must be a process of education, and it must be well directed 
and constant. In France this educational movement is an 
established fact through the co-operation of his Eminence 
Cardinal Richard and the Soci^t^ de TSacre. A school has 
been established under the direction of Luc Oliver Merson, and 
a certain number of young priests are sent to this school each 
year. After the course of studies prescribed for them is finished 
these priests will be called as instructors in the various seminaries 
throughout France. A separate school such as the one in Paris 
might not be practicable in America. In our seminaries and 
colleges here we have chairs established to teach botany, 
chemistry, and kindred sciences, but only remotely connected 
with the priestly calling. A priest once out of the seminary 
may never have great questions in chemistry to decide, but he 
is sure to constantly make decisions in church building and 
decoration. The history of the church, nay the church itself, 
has established principles of religious art that are constantly 
violated here in America. 

For the artist the decorations of the catacombs are a well- 
spring of artistic sincerity ; for the priest these same decorations 
are strong arguments in his missionary work. One might say 
of the early persecutions that the saints paused on their road 
to martyrdom painting pictures and drawing symbols of their 
faith. And through succeeding ages religious art rose and fell 
with the rise and fall of spiritual life in the church. When 
saints fired the world with impassioned eloquence there was 
always a Giotto or a Fra Angelico who decorated the walls of 



I903-] A Modern Guild of Artists. 441 

the churches with glorious lessons of beauty and wisdom. The 
lives of saints were pictured from beginning to end. The very 
supports of the roof blossomed, as it were, with piety and de- 
votion. Thousands of statues taught the people, and are left 
''by a former age commissioned as apostles to our own.-' 
Have we heeded the lessons taught us ? These beautiful pro- 
ductions of spiritual ages stand out in startling contrast with 
the bad art of materialistic times. For there were periods when 
vulgarity and ostentation filled the churches with tawdry orna- 
mentation. These periods are lamented by artists as periods of 
bad art. By the historian they are lamented as times full of dis- 
asters, and periods when discontent and revolution were rife 
among a miserable people. The common people, deprived of the 
spiritual consolation of storied windows and lofty arcades peopled 
with saints, were filled with envy of the vulgar rich. In the 
churches, instead of spiritual lessons, they saw hundreds of plas- 
ter curlycues of the latest style. There was a taste among 
ecclesiastics for costly marbles curiously handled and deftly 
wrought; but the real purpose of church decoration was lost 
Marbles were brought from Nubia, and vast sums were spent 
for onyx and alabaster brought by the commercial houses of 
the day from distant lands. All this rich display but added fuel 
to the dull fires of social discontent. 

And now America with its glorious possibilities can profit 
by these lessons in the history of Europe. Every man who 
loves his church, every man who loves his country, will be 
deeply interested in this awakening of the real spirit of church 
art To quote from a recent letter written by a great prelate: 
"Whoever has a right notion of Art, and a right love for 
Art, must have had many a sorrowful hour in contemplating 
the conditions and tendencies of art, in the world at large, 
during recent times." Thus is voiced the lament of Catholics 
in all civilized countries — a lament that Religious Art has not 
flourished. So throughout the world a common state of mind 
has brought about a common endeavor for something better in 
church building and church decoration. 

Everywhere are seen societies starting up for the advance- 
ment of Religious Art But it is needless to dwell on the 
vicissitudes of each struggling society of enthusiasts. While 
they are animated with the best of intentions, yet each society 
has suffered from isolation and the lack of organization. Here 



443 A MODERN GUILD OF ARTISTS, [Jan., 

ia America we fortunately have a strong artistic society acting 
as a centre of organization. 

The Architectural League of New York, strengthened by the 
experience of twenty-one years of artistic endeavor, has ap- 
pointed a committee and established an exhibition devoted 
exclusively to Church Building and Church Decoration. It is 
the hope of the League to crystallize public sentiment on this 
important subject By its constitution the Architectural League 
is prevented from entering into any business enterprises. The 
position of the League being thus defined, it is enabled to 
stand as a safeguard between the church-builder and the com- 
mercial spirit of the time. And its members hope that the 
clei^y will avail themselves of the friendly support offered 
them. 

In planning a church three questions must be answered: 
[St. How large a church is needed ? 2d. How much the 
church will cost ? 3d. What the general aspect of the church 
shall be when finished P The right answers to these questions 
are dictated by modesty and honesty of purpose. Church-build- 
ers through ages of experience have formulated principles that 
are now the very canons of good art. All other forms of art 
tend to tawdriness and sham. The church-builder who disregards 
the artistic experience of ages will probably build a monument to 
his own ignorance, a monument that will be a laughing-stock 
for coming generations. To priests who ask it the League 
will gladly give advice, though it will do nothing that savors 
of "business." 



1903.] A Way OF Knowing God. 443 




A WAY OF KNOWING GOD. 

BY ALBERT REYNAUD. 

|HE Saint seems to have short-cuts to knowledge 
which almost extort admiration ; yet we often 
remain stolid at revelations of that knowledge, 
perhaps because it seems to us natural that he 
should have it. Take away the S from his 
name, ascribe the statement to a Confucius, a Plato, a Bacon — 
nay, to some modern philosopher or poet, and we would go 
into ecstasies over it. Societies would be formed to interpret 
it and find new meanings and mysteries in it. Schools and 
systems would be built around it. — But he is only a saint. 
Let him alone. 

This thought occurs amid the sense of delight provoked, if that 
be the proper expression, by passages encountered here and there 
in the writings of so many of the great unknowns of the Church. 

But this leads to a wholly different reflection. God works 
by general laws. His dealings with us are not whimsical. We 
may not always understand those laws. Their application, the 
reasons for them, may escape us. But Infinite Wisdom pre- 
cludes the notion of caprice. If we may emphasize our mean- 
ing by a phrase, with all reverence, there seems to us a mis- 
taken way of presenting His Providence, His conduct towards 
any part of His creation, merely as "5iV volo, sic jubeo,** Thus 
/ will, hence thus I command. 

There are texts from Scripture which lend color to such a 
method of presentation. But is not their purpose and meaning 
to bring out the sense of our dependence, and at times the in- 
scrutability of God's counsels? — not their non- reasonableness. 
The truth, the whole truth, is to be learnt from conjunction 
with all the passages which assert His judgments to be sover- 
eignly wise. His counsels to be supremely right — that He doeth 
all things well. 

To formulate it again with reverence in a counter- phrase : 
that He is a God of *^ adequate reason.** 



444 A Way OF Knowing God, [Jan. 

And is not that a more alluring aspect of His infinite per- 
fection to attract the modern mind than too great an emphasis 
on what seems to us an aspect of mere arbitrariness and power ? 

But to return. As by ordinary laws the development of 
our physical powers is in relation to their exercise, so there 
is a natural and reasonable development of our intellectual 
powers and faculties in any special direction from our own use 
and exercise of them. The mind in that respect is like a 
muscle or a physical organ. 

It is true that in moral things — and thought cannot escape 
moral quality — the problem is more complex. There comes in 
the rightness and wrongness, and not merely the correctness or 
incorrectness of the thing, — of the purpose presiding over that 
exercise. 

Hence the profound truth that the pure of heart shall see God. 

Still, on the whole, do we not in fact note that the use of 
our mind in the quest of various truths has its legitimate re- 
ward in proficiency ? And so in a measure must it be with the 
highest truths. 

The saints know most about God, at least in part because 
they most diligently apply themselves to the study of God. 

The moral of all this, if it possess any, is the error of shut- 
ting our mind off from thinking of God and the beauties of His 
truth, from the knowledge of God, from study and inquiry into 
these divine truths — under a belief that they are beyond us, 
that they are only miraculously made known to the saints : a 
mock excuse of incapacity and unworthiness on our part. We 
won't try. We debar ourselves even from the intellectual de- 
lights which these truths enclose, and yet yield so readily, so 
variously, so plentifully, to honest and diligent inquiry. 

And, much worse, under pretext perhaps that the "Spirit 
breathes where it listeth," under ban of miraculous agencies 
acting for the saint alone — infused lights, what not — we shut 
the doors and windows of our soul, the very crevices of heart 
and conscience, to the slightest breath — to the divine agitations 
within us, which seek entrance into a moment's impulse, wel- 
come in a passing wish or effort on our side — some habitation 
with us; — while we loudly proclaim as an excuse, the mystery 
and arbitrariness of God's ways, of His truth and of His grace. 



Right Rbv. J. H. Bi.ekk, Bishop o? Porto Rico. 

RELIGIOUS PROGRESS IN PORTO RICO. 

BY REV. A. ALONSO-ALONSO (Porto Ricoj. 

IUFFICIENT time may not as yet have elapsed 
since the introduction of the new system of non- 
interference of the State with the affairs of the 
Church in the Island of Porto Rico to make a 
comprehensive judgment of the future of religion, 
but one can readily review the events of the past few 
years and note the contracts, and see wherein many advantages 
have come to the people in the point oT view of their religious 
VOL. LXXVI. — 29 



446 RELIGIOUS PROGRESS IN PORTO RiCO. [Jan., 

condition from the new regime. Of course we readily affirm 
that the ideal condition is that harmonious union of Church and 
State in which the acts of the civil power, informed and regu- 
lated by the wisdom of the spiritual authorities, conduce to the 
best administration of the commonwealth, and the temporal and 
spiritual betterment of the people. We believe in such a union 
of Church and State. It is practically impossible to so sepa- 
rate Church and State that the moral principles of the one will 
not be the guide for the administration of the other. The 
principles of justice, morality, and wisdom are eternal and im- 
mutable, and as they inform and mould the lives of churchmen, 
they too must inform and mould the lives of statesmen. The 
same standards of right and wrong must obtain in the spiritual 
order as well as in the civil order. What is right in the 
Church cannot be wrong in the State. The most earnest de- 
votee of the separation of the State from the Church must 
admit the necessity of a moral union in which the same stan-» 
dards are upheld, and in which the same line of policy is pur- 
sued. Still, he claims that the spheres of administration are 
different, and it is healthier for both that each be kept to its 
own sphere of activity. It is always good in every common- 
wealth that there be two independent forces working for the 
same end, so that they may be a check on each other. Un- 
limited powef tends to despotism and generates scandals and 
abuses. 

In any review of the present-day condition of the church in 
Porto Rico the contrast with the past, of a necessity, forces 
itself on one. For more than three centuries, since the discov- 
ery of the island, Porto Rico has been Catholic, and no other 
religion has gained even so much as a foothold on the island. 
Officially and in private the Catholic religion was the religion 
of the people and of the state. And on this account the church 
did enjoy many privileges. The state contributed to her sup- 
port. Her decrees were enforced by the strong arm of the civil 
power, whenever it was found necessary. In the beginning the 
people contributed to the support of religion and the sustenance 
of the clergy by means of tithes. In the year 1779 this offering 
amounted to $69,720. A third part of this sum was set apart 
for the necessities of public worship and for the support of the 
clergy. But later on the Spanish government confiscated the 
property that belonged* to the church, and in the settlement 



ipoj.] ' Religious progress in Porto Rico. 447 

that came later by concordat 
with the Holy See a certain 
budget was set aside every 
year from the revenues for 
public worship. This money 
was paid regularly by the 
state to the church till the 
island came into the posses- 
sion of the United States in 
1 898. The present regime 
was then inaugurated, in which 
is affirmed the non-interfer- 
ence of the state in matters x 
of religion. The payment of o 
the budget of public worship = 
has ceased, and the church z 
controls her own affairs with- ^ 
out the assistance and with- z 
out the obstructive interfer- " 
ence of the civil authorities, i^ 

Now, after four years of > 
the new system, what is the " 
condition of affairs ? ^ 

In the first place, the peo- S 
pie are Catholic. They be- Z 
lieve to-day, as their ances- ^ 
tors did, that the Catholic S 
Church is the only true 
church, and they treasure the 
mysteries of their faith as 
earnestly as their forefathers 
did. But because the church 
is denied any external support 
from the civil power, the peo- 
ple have rallied to her assis- 
tance, so that it might be 
truly said that the people of 
Porto Rico to-day work for 
the support and extension of 

the faith in a way that they have never worked before. 
The most encouraging part of the situation is the fact that 



448 RELIGIOUS PROGRESS IN PORTO RiCO. [Jan., 

the most enlightened people of the island have volunteered 
to assist in the work of the church. Without any recompense 
other than the satisfaction of working for the defence of the 
church, gentlemen of education and of good social position leave 

their homes 
and go from 
town to town 
preaching and 
teaching the 
doctrines of the 
' church among 
the simple coun- 
try people. The 
religious situa- 
tion among the 
country folk ts 
peculiar, and it 
is difficult for 
Americans to 
understand it. 
Some of the 
simple people 
have associated 
the Catholic re- 
ligion with the 
-Spanish lan- 
guage. In their 
minds by im- 
memorial tradi- 
tion it was the 
, . FikST COMMUNICANT. rcHgionpeculiar 

to the Spanish 
nation, and in the throwing aside of the Spanish sovereignty they 
considered' that no longer was it needful to cling to the religion 
of their ancestors. In this state of affairs it was necessary that 
the better class of the lay people should come to the help of 
the church. The clergy were comparatively few, the people 
were scattered in the remote country places, and there was no 
wide-spread dissemination of the newspaper as exists now in 
the United States. There was no other resource but to organ- 
ize the bands of preaching and teaching laymen, and send them 



1903.] RELIGIOUS PROGRESS IN PORTO RiCO. 



Students at the College of San Pablo. 
up and down the island into the remote districts, to instruct 
the people in the rudiments of their faith, to teach them that 
the church was the universal one, above all nationality, race, 
and language, and that even if Spanish sovereignty is gone 
for ever from the island, the church remains. It is as much at 
home under the 'stars and stripes as it was under the flag of 
Spain, and the only thing to be feared were the ravening 
wolves of error and heresy, who come in the clothing of sheep 
to snatch the unwary from the ancient faith. The immediate 
effect of this new propaganda is to stir up all classes to a re- 
newed activity. There is nothing that makes a man a good 
Catholic like the necessity of fighting for his faith. As soon as . 
the church Is put on the aggressive she becomes an irresistible 
force. As soon as the activities of priest and people are thor- 
oughly aroused, she becomes a conquering army. The church 
has no worse enemy than stagnation. Stagnant waters breed 
malaria and generate noisome reptiles, while running waters are 
always sweet. The new regime in Porto Rico has awakr^ned all 



4SO Religious progress in Porto Rico. [Jan., 

classes of people to the necessity of knowing their religion bet- 
ter, that they may be able to defend it with greater effective- 
ness. It has generated a healthy spirit of offence and of de- 
fence. 

' On the other hand, the people have found valiant leaders 
in the newly consecrated bishop, Right Rev. J. H. Blenk, and 
his clergy. Of course the Protestant sects have looked on 
Porto Rico as a desirable field, and the missionary societies 
have sent their able men and have poured in abundant resources 
to pervert the people from their ancient faith. They have re- 
sorted to every artifice to delude the simple people and lead 
them into heresy. But in Bishop Blenk they have found one 
acquainted with their ways, and resourceful enough to check- 
mate them in their schemes. The bishop and his clergy have 
had to work with slender resources. What the church has here- 
tofore depended on has been denied them, and while the peo- 

* 

pie have given to their support, yet they had not much to 
give, and they had not been trained to giving. Still, with the 
handicap of poverty, intensified by the destitution consequent 
on the recent hurricane which devastated a portion of the is- 
lands, they have successfully defended the church against attack. 
All the fighting blood of the people has been aroused. They 
have organized parishes, instituted colleges, and have got the 
work of the church well in hand. 

What has been the result ? In former times occasionally the 
churches' were crowded. It was on special festivals when, by 
immemorial custom as well as by legal enactment, the civil offi- 
cials as well as the dignitaries of the church gathered to cele- 
brate with pomp and ceremony some special 'event ; but ordi- 
narily the people were sunk in indifference. They had not 
much love for the church and little respect for the priesthood, 
and it mattered little whether they practised their religion 
or not. Now there is a change. Although the new regime 
gives the men all kinds of liberties, and the civil authorities no 
longer lend their approbation to church-going, still the churches 
are more frequented. The sleep of indifference has been cast 
aside, and the men have aroused themselves to a public pro- 
fession of their faith by church-going and church-defending. 
Bishop Blenk, whose discretion in handling the delicate problems 
of administration is admirable, has earned the loyalty of priests 
and people alike. He has instituted the Association of Ladies, 



I903-] RELIGIOUS PROGRESS IN PORTO RlCO. 



who are actively engaged in all good works: teaching the chil- 
dren their catechism, distributing relief to the destitute. He has 
formed the Association of Catholic Gentlemen, and on the rolls 
of its membership are found the names of the most influential 
men in the island: the eminent orator and jurist, Don Antonio 
Alvarez Nava; the distinguished lawyer, Don Juan H, Lopez; 
the popular physician, Don Esteban Saldaiia, an M.D. of the 
University of Brussels; the eminent statesman. Dr. Julian Blan- 
co ; the learned lawyer, Don Angel Acosta Quintero, and many 
others too numerous to mention. These gentlemen give tone 
and dignity to this Catholic Association, and enable the mem- 
bers to more effectively carry out the purposes of the society 
in assisting in church work. 

Bishop Blenk has instituted the College of San Pablo, where 
the young men can acquire a thorough education under reli- 
gious auspices, and it is patronized by the children of the best 
families. These young men of to-day, thoroughly instructed in 
their religion and sympathetic with its purposes, will be the 
public men of to-morrow. It is hoped, as the Porto Rico 



452 RELIGIOUS Progress in Porto Rico. [Jan., 

Herald said, that the Col- 
lege or San Pablo will be- 
come the Catholic Uni- 
versity ot the island. 

It is apparent, then, 
that the new regime in 
Porto Rico has thrown the 
church back on her own 
resources, aiid has de- 
veloped thereby a healthy 
enei^y. It has cut away 
from the practice of reli- 
gion all motives of human 
respect and hypocrisy, and 
has placed it on its own . 
basis,the attainmentof the 
soul's welfare. It has de- 
veloped a type of Catholic 
who loves his religion bet- 
ter, and who practises it 
devoutly. 

It is hoped that there 
will be a speedy settle- 
ment of the claims of the 
church now pending be- 
fore the American govern- 
ment. The church pro- 
perty that the Spanish 
government confiscated is 
now held by the Ameri- 
can government. It was 
on account of the pos- 
session of this property 
by the civil authorities 
that the government in 
A Type of REi.tcmus. Spanish times paid the 

budget of worship. The 
American government should either yield up possession of the 
property or settle for it. When this settlement is made the 
church will be better equipped to do its work. 



1903.] The Lost has been Found. 453 




THE LOST HAS BEEN FOUND: A CHRISTMAS STORY. 

BY MARION AMES TACpART. 

|H£ bare boughs of the syringa and lilac bushes 
rapped sadly against the windows of the old 
homestead in the cold December wind. The 
house shone in its immaculate white paint, and its 
green blinds were as speckless of dust as if it had 
not a heavy heart beneath its clapboard ribs ; yet if ever a house 
were heavy-hearted that one was so. It had been built before 
the Revolution, and had sent its sons to fight loyally for inde- 
pendence, and now, in the close of 1862, its oldest son, bright, 
brave Bob Philips, was away carrying out the traditions and 
faith he had learned within its walls, and risking his young life 
to preserve the Union his forefathers had founded. 

The solemn tidings of Antietam had come North three months 
before, and Bob had been with McClellan on that hard-fought 
field ; but beyond this certainty nothing was known of him, and 
whether his sunny yellow head lay among the unrecognized 
dead, or whether he was a prisoner in a pest-hole prison, no 
one knew, and it was now December, and Christmas was com- 
ing on. 

The younger children sometimes forgot their anxiety to 
laugh, as young folk must ; but their mother never smiled, ris- 
ing hollow-eyed from sleepless nights to drag through the tense 
longing and watching of the day. Not a step came up the 
gravelled walk, not a mail came into the little town, that Mrs. 
Philips did not go to meet it with the. ever frustrate hope that 
at last there was news of Bob. 

And now, on this bleak winter day, when the lilacs and 
syringas were scraping the window-panes, and the wind cried 
down the chimney like a banshee, though it foretold no greater 
evil than the coming north-east snow-storm, a halting, uncertain 
step fell on the ear that was always strained to catch each 
sound. 

"What is it?" cried her mother, as Alice, the oldest girl, 
sprang forward forestalling her at the window. 

'' It is an old colored woman ; O mamma, she looks so ill ! " 



454 THE LOST HAS BEEN FOUND : [Jan., 

Alice cried, running to open the big front door. It proved 
refractory, and by the time she had drawn back the bolt her 
mother had joined her, and as the door swung open the old 
colored woman fell in a collapsed heap of ragged gringham and 
misery at their feet. 

" Call Dan," said Mrs. Philips briefly, bending to lift the 
thin face from the mat, and gently set straight the faded tur- 
ban. Dan was the big factotum, used to rendering all sorts of 
service, from weeding flower beds to administering his mis- 
tress' charities. The old house had its place in the '' under- 
ground railroad " scheme, and though Dan had by nature no 
liking for ''people of color," it was no new thing for him. to 
help them, and he was too kind-hearted not to like the work. 

He lifted the emaciated body tenderly in his brawny arms, 
and carried it up to the sunny little room which Mrs. Philips 
kept for such emergencies. 

" Well, ma'am, she don't look to me what you 'd call ro- 
bust," said Dan, surveying his recent burden dubiously as it 
lay on the bright chintz counterpane. " She 's a pretty slim 
specimen of what General Butler called contraband goods." 
The old negress stirred feebly ; they had thought that she was 
unconscious, but she opened her eyes and said in a weak voice : 
"No'm, sir, I > ain't contraband. Dey tells me in de Souf I 
cayn't get ofl''n any such 'scuse. Gen'el Butler ner any gen'el 
cayn't use me fer de purp'ses of wah. So I wuz mighty 
skeered comin' off"." 

" Have you run away ? " asked Mrs. Philips in astonish- 
ment. 

" 'M ! Well, I 'd know 'bout de runnin' / I kin'er lef my 
ole plantation long in August, an' I reckon 't was runnin' off 
's well as my po' ole legs could run," 

"Where was the old plantation, and where have you been 
ever since August ? " asked Mrs. Philips, beginning to under- 
stand this curious person's emaciated condition. 

" Laws, honey, I cayn't rightly tell you where 't was ! 'T was 
way down tow'd the bottom of Virginyah, and 't wan't easy 
gettin' up No'f, 'cause dey 's a powe'ful lot of de Souf'en army 
round 'bout, an' I'se had de mis'ry in my back, an* a kin'er 
gen'el discommodatin'ess in my legs dese pas' yeahs. But I'se 
boun' to fin' de Yankee army, an' I kin'er slipped 'long, an' I 
got up tow'ds Mahylan' time for de Antietam battle." 



1903.] A Christmas Story. 45s 

" Ah ! " Mrs. Philips caught her breath in spite of herself, 
for the battle of Antietam had come to mean to her only the 
last clue she had to Bob's whereabouts. 

" Yaas 'm ; I wuz right near dere, an' I kin tell you 't wus a 
most disglubrious fight. I could n't stay round, 'cause I wuz 
skeered de Yankees wuz beaten, so I went 'long, kin'er creepin' 
on de aidge o' Mahylan', an' I got tuk in in a fahmhouse where 
dey wuz mighty kin', an' when I got a chance I come 'long 
up No'f." 

The quavering voice ceased at these words, and the poor 
old head in the faded turban dropped down on the still more 
faded calico shoulder. Mrs. Philips was recalled to her duty by 
these signs of weakness, and hastened down to the kitchen to 
prepare some of the good chicken soup which fortunately was 
simmering on the fire. She returned with a brimming bowl- 
ful of the savory broth, and with her three little girls in her 
train, all anxious for a peep at a real runaway slave, for so far 
their labors as zealous abolitionists had not brought any of the 
race for which they were sacrificing so much to their own 
gates. 

"Take this, aunty," said Mrs. Philips, gently arousing the 
old woman, while Alice lifted her head on her arm and 
arranged the pillows. As she did so the rosary that hung over 
the picture at the head of the bed rattled, and their guest 
raised her eyes towards it. " Bress de Lawd ! " she said fer- 
vently. " You 's Cath'lics ; an' dey done tole me all de folks 
No'f wuz as down on Cath'lics as dey wuz up on niggers. I 's 
raised Cath'lic myse'f ; I ain't none dese yere shoutin' Mef'dist 
niggers, an' I bress de Lawd I 's got into de ark." 

" She 's more like the raven than the dove, she 's so black," 
whispered Jack, the only boy of the family except Bob, to his 
youngest sister Kitty ; Jack was studying Bible history, and 
felt he had proved his acquaintance with it rather neatly. 

Kitty giggled, as Kitty always did, and slipped forward 
from her hiding place behind the taller g^irls to get a peep 
at the stranger. As she did so the old woman gratefully 
accepted a wishbone which Mrs. Philips offered her on the tip 
of the spoon. 

" I 's mighty obligated to you, ma'am," she said. " Some- 
how I feels kin'er cur'us, like I wuz gettin' obfusticated in my 
min*, an' did n't rightly know myse'f. Dis yere 's de bone what 



456 The Lost has been found : [Jan., 

troubles de chicken trabblin', ma'am/' she added dreamily. 
"Where dis bone kin go he mos' in gen'ally gets de rest of 
hisseT. Laws-a-massy, honey, how much you does resemble to 
my po' Massa Bob ! " And so saying she fainted. 

Now these last words had been spoken as her eyes rested 
for the first time on Kitty pressing forward to get a glimpse 
of her, and they fell like a bomb on the ears of the little group 
around her, for to them there was but one Bob in all the world. 
More than that, Kitty actually did look like her lost brother, 
the only one of the children who in the least resembled him, 
and the entire family waited with feverish impatience for their 
protigie to recover consciousness and explain the meaning of 
her words. 

When the poor wanderer's fit of fainting had passed, how- 
ever, she was delirious, and for a week raved of her terror of 
capture, her weariness, and sometimes of her Virginia home, 
and a certain " ole Miss " whom she had loved, and who evi- 
dently was dead. 

Mrs. Philips sat by the bedside, soothing and caring for 
the poor old creature as tenderly as she could have cared for 
the son for whom she longed ; and all the time her eyes sought 
the thin and wrinkled black face as if they would force the dis- 
ordered brain to sanity, and make the feverish lips tell her if 
they had ever spoken to Bob — her Bob. Thanksgiving in the 
old house had been a dreary day, on which it was hard to be 
grateful for the many good things left. December set in, and 
the old woman had not spoken one coherent word since the 
exclamation which had driven back the blood on the hearts of 
her hearers, and had left them to increased anxiety. 

At last there came a day when the fever was conquered, 
and the patient lay weak and emaciated, but conscious. It took 
several days' nursing to get old aunty to a point when it would 
not be sheer selfish cruelty to ask her a question ; but when the 
doctor, who had taken care of Bob when he was teething, and 
was scarcely less impatient than his family to solve the mystery, 
said that he thought the experiment might be tried, Mrs. Philips, 
with shaking hands and her heart full of unuttered prayers, 
brought Bob's picture and stood it on the bed. 

Photography was not in those days what it has since 
become, but it was a fair likeness of the handsome, frank 
young face, and the mother might be pardoned for think- 



1903.] A Christmas Story. 457 

ing the picture more beautiful than any portrait by an old 
master. 

For a few moments the old woman did not notice the pho- 
tograph ; when finally her eyes did fall upon it she raised her- 
self on one elbow and, pointing one thin finger at it, cried: 
" Massa Bob ! How come he yere ? " 

" Do you know him ? " asked Mrs. Philips faintly. " Tell 
me where you have seen him?" 

"He come wanting along to dat fahmhouse down Mahylan' 
whar I wuz after de Antietam fight. He wuz out er his head, 
an' his unifo'm wuz so to'ed you could n't tole his reg'ment ; 
but we knowed he wuz fo'm de Yankee a'my, an' de folks dere 
tuk him in an' nu'sed him like a baby. He nevah come to 
while I wuz dere, an' dey could n't fin' out a livin' thing 'bout 
whar he come f'om, but jest bis name. 'Bob' he said he wuz, 
an' wen I come off No'f he wuz still crazy like ; brain fevah, 
de doctah say he got." 

" O my son, my son ! " cried Mrs. Philips. " O my Bob ! '* 

''You' son?" screamed the old woman shrilly, sitting up in 
bed, forgetful of weakness. 

Mrs. Philips nodded. "Tell me where that house is; tell 
us where to find him," she gasped. 

The old woman fell back and began to sob into the pillow. 
" Aftah all you done fo' me," she moaned, " I done fergit whar 
dat house is, an' de name of de folks what live dere." 

" Can't you tell us how to get there ? . For the love of heaven 
don't say you can't tell us where to find Bob; or 'his grave," 
Mrs. Philips added, breaking down completely at the end. 

The old woman moved her head miserably in the pillow as 
if she were shaking it in dissent " Lawd fo'give me for an ole 
sinner," she moaned. " It 's clean gone." 

The sun set on a house that was plunged deeper in gloom 
that night than it had been before this hope of finding Bob had 
been held out, only to. disappear like a will-o'-the-wisp, leading 
to nothing. And in the morning the old colored woman, 
in spite of her weakness and friendlessness, had disappeared 
also. 

" She 's ungrateful, and probably a humbug," cried fourteen- 
year-old Annie Philips with the impatience and rash judging of 
her age. "She was too ill to go before, and after all mamma's 
nursing and kindness she runs away the very first day she 



4S8 The Lost has been Found : [Jan., 

can — ^and before she is fit, for that matter. You 'd better count 
your spoons, mamma." 

But the spoons were safe, and the doctor, dropping in on 
his morning rounds, lifted up his voice in protest against too 
quick a condemnation of the wanderer. "Wait and see,'' he 
said. " I would stake my reputation on that old soul yet ; 
you will find her whiter in heart than in body, or I am not 
Doctor Strange." 

" You 're not ; you 're only Doctor for strangers, old contra- 
band strangers," said Jack with affectionate impertinence and 
trying to be bright, for he was the doctor's pet, and privileged. 

Three weeks rolled by, and it was two days before Christ^ 
mas. Mrs. Philips had written to her brother in New York, and 
he had sent detectives through the "aidge of Mahylan'," along 
which the old colored woman had said she had wandered after 
Antietam ; but though they had worked hard to find the house 
where Bob was supposed to have lain ill, they had thus far 
worked in vain ; his name was still in that awful list of " miss- 
ing " from the great battle. Nor had the Philipses ever had the 
smallest sign of existence from the poor old creature they had 
befriended. 

There was little thought of Christmas happiness in that 
household, and no preparations for . its celebration beyond the 
doll Kitty perennially wanted, and clothing for the poor and the 
army, for those were days when the women left behind sewed 
their love and prayers into shirts, and knit them into socks for 
their heroes. 

It was then two days before Christmas, and Kitty was flat- 
tening her slightly uptilted nose against the window-pane, 
looking out at a dreary landscape of uniform gray in sky and 
earth, and wishing something nice and merry might happen, for 
Christmas with no merriness in it was hard to face. 

She saw a bent figure coming up the walk, and went to 
open the door without recognizing it. The broad old hall 
echoed to her shrill cry of surprise when it dropped her a 
curtesy, and she screamed : " Oh, mamma, Alice, come ! It 's 
our old woman come back ! " 

"Dat what I have, chile," she said, dropping on the hall 
settle, and unwinding a long worsted muffler from her head, 
only to rise and drop a succession of curtsies as Mrs. Philips 
and Alice ran down the stairs at Kitty's summons. 



1903.] A Christmas Story. 459. 

" Wish you a ve'y Mcriry Christmus, honey," she said, taking 
Mrs. Philips' hand and kissing it. There was a suppressed ex- 
citement in her voice and manner that set that lady trembling, 
hoping she scarcely dared think what. 

''I am glad to see that you are safe; we did not know 
what could have befallen you," she said. 

'' Lawd bress you, you dea' soul, I wuz all right ! " she 
said beamingly, her manner getting almost triumphant, and her 
eyes dancing with joy. '"Twuz a hard pull gettin' off, but I 
reckoned I'd have de strenf given me, conside'in' what I wuz 
goin' fo'. Didn't dat bressed doctah drop a wo'd?" 

Mrs. Philips shook her head. '' I don't know what you 
mean," she said faintly. 

"Set right down dar, honey; don't you git flustehated. I 
reckon mebbe you wa'n't lookin' fo' any speshul good times 
dis yere Christmus ? " said old aunty, putting her arm around 
Mrs. Philips as though she had been a child. 

" How could I ? " Mrs. Philips whispered. " Where have 
you been ? Tell me ; did you go — " 

"Yaas*m I did," nodded aunty emphatically. "I went down 
to Mahylan' lookin' — " 

" For Bob, oh, for Bob ! " shrieked Alice. " You found him ; 
I see it ! Oh, Bob, mamma, she 's found — " 

Mrs. Philips clasped her hands, and looked speechlessly at 
the woman, her lips moving without a sound. 

" Now don't you hu't you' maw," said aunty, tears rolling 
down her black cheeks. '' You try to be ca'm ; but I reckon 
the doctah 's comin' right along — he *s out yon'er now — ^an' I 
reckon mebbe he 's got a Christmus present fo' you." 

Some one got the door open, no one knew who, and sure 
enough the doctor was coming slowly up the walk. And a 
tall young figure leaned on his arm, a figure muffled in a cloak, 
but not so muffled that they did not know it. 

" Bob, Bob, Bob ! " All the voices rose in chorus, and in 
a moment the tall young figure, bending down, was enveloped 
in arms that hid it; but clinging around his neck, and press- 
ed close to his heart, was Bob's mother, half swooning with 
joy. 

It was hours before any one could fully understand just 
what had happened; indeed it was only on Christmas Eve, 
when the doctor was there, and Bob seated in the arm-chair 



46o THE LOST HAS BEEN FOUND. [Jan., 

on the right of the fire in the rSle of invalid, and aunty on the 
left as the heroine of the tale, that it was fully told. 

Then the doctor confessed that he had been in the secret 
from the first, and had furnished aunty .with the money that 
took her by train to Maryland, after which she had to depend 
on her instinct to guide her to the kind people, the remem- 
brance of whose name illness had driven from her brain. And 
the faithful soul took up the tale at this point, and told how 
at last she found them, and Bob was still alive but with his 
reason not yet restored,^ and how it had been her whispering 
his name, and the familiar name of his home, and the pet 
names of the children, that had awakened the dormant train of 
association, and had brought back the poor sick brain to health 
once more. And Bob himself told how they had started, and 
how every revolution of the car wheels seemed to make him 
stronger as they travelled toward home. 

"And I tell you our friend here is a heroine, for she was 
afraid of her life in venturing South again, afraid as she could 
be of getting caught and sent back to slavery in Virginia, and 
terrified though she was she went, none the less risking it for 
the sake of paying her debt of gratitude to Bob's mother." 

*^ May God in heaven bless her ! " ejaculated Mrs. Philips 
fervently. "Dear aunty, has no one told you that the Presi- 
dent has proclaimed that all slaves in the seceding States shall 
be free on -New Year's Day ? " 

" Free ! What, me free ! " cried aunty, springing to her feet 
'* Glory allelulia, an' de bressin' of de Lawd on dat great, good 
Linkum ! Oh, laws-a-love an' glory, ain't dis yere a bressed 
Christmus ? " 

" It is indeed," said Mrs. Philips, rising to kneel by her son's 
chair and clasp him in her arms, as if she could not trust the 
evidence of her eyes alone that he was actually there. " Let us 
sing the Christmas hymn as we used to. Bob; oh, as we used 
to, Bob, before you went away, and as I thought we never 
should again, my dear, while you were missing." 

The doctor took off his spectacles to wipe them, and then, 
Alice seated at the organ playing and the others gathered 
around Bob's chair, sang the Adeste Fideles, old aunty's voice 
rising above all the others with the clear sweetness of her 
race. 

"I guess the raven was better than the dove in this ark, 



1903.] " Gloria in Excelsis Deo:' 461 

Jack/' whispered Kitty. " Do you remember how you called 
her the raven the day she first came ? " 

"Don't I just! And she's going to stay in this ark till I 
grow up and get married, and then I 'm going to have her live 
with me," said Jack, planning a little prematurely. 

" No, I want her," cried Kitty. 

"And I shall have her, for she is niy especial property," 
said Bob, overhearing, and laughing. " In any case, dear ' Aunty 
Raven' is provided for, and between us she shall never want 
for anything that we can give her." 

The promise was more than kept; "Aunty Raven" not 
only lived to see the war ended, but to take Bob's children on 
her knee and tell them of how she had found their father in 
" Mahylan', endurin' the wah." And all the children loved her, 
keeping Christmas Day as her name day, and she was "Aunty 
Raven " to the end. 



if 




GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO." 

BY JOHN W. WOLFE. 



LORIA in excelsis Deo, 

Lord of hosts the angels pealed ; 
Saviour of Thy Father's fold, . 
Loving heart of God revealed. 



Gloria in excelsis Deo, 

To the new-born Christ we sing; 

Gloria in excelsis Deo, 

Through the world the chorus rings. 

Gloria in excelsis Deo, 
Loudly with the rest of men. 
Sing the praises by angels told, 
Of the Babe in Bethlehem. 



VOL. LXXVI— 30 



MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. [Jan., 



MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS.' 

BY REV. WILLIAM L. SULLIVAN. C.3.P. 

1HE fathers of the Oratory in France deserve the 
gratitude of every Catholic in the world for two 
biographical works which have recently come 
from their community. P^re Chauvtn's life of 
P^re Gratry this magazine welcomed some 
months ago as a great classic in its department of history — one 
of the greatest indeed which we possess. The honors since 
given to that work by the French Academy, and the wide sale 
it is happily having in France, confirm this eulogistic estimate. 
And P^re Lecanuet's Life of MontaUmbtrt, which furnishes the 
occasion for the present article, merits an equally cordial wel- 
come. Indeed, there are striking reasons why one book should 
recall the other. Both are studies which excellently combine a 
noble enthusiasm for their subjects with a fine sense of histori- 
cal criticism; both achieve that distinction so difficult to bio- 
graphers, of presenting a living sketch of contemporaneous 
kistory neither so jejune as to let us imagine that the man 
written about had no relations with his age, nor so filled up 
with impertinent details as to give us a distorted impression of 
the influence which he exercised upon it ; both works finally 
have a feadessly expressed love for our modern times and 
modern progress: imagine a biographer of Gratry and Monta- 
lembert who bad not! The two subjects also naturally suggest 
each other. Gratry and Montalembert were contemporary in 
life, one in ambition, similar in principles, and pathetically alike 
in the disappointments which fell upon their early hopes and in 
the sorrows which darkened their declining days. They had to 
undergo the singularly painful trial of seeing themselves suspected, 
persecuted, and denounced by their brethren in that faith to 
which they had unreservedly consecrated their lives. And both, 
after the third of a century had cast the shadow of suspicion on 
their illustrious names, have had to come tardily and laboriously 
into the possession of the just renown which their supreme 

* .UoHlalimberi. Par R. P. Lecanuel. 3 vols. Pari 5 : Librairie Ch. Poussielguc. 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. 463 

services deserve. To this vindication the biographies of Pere 
Chauvin and Pere Lecanuet have greatly contributed. These 
volumes, if they belong in form and matter to the literature of 
history, belong in spirit and influence to the literature of justice. 
Though not departing from their proper province, they are 
flne apologies for great and holy and misestimated men ; they 
are a consolation to all who deem it equitable to ask a victim 
what he has to say for himself before joining in the cry of the 
multitude, a fuoco; and they are a dignified rebuke to that 
spirit of persecution to which no motive is in itself sacred and 
no mistake forgivable. 

Still, despite our gratification at the vindication, there still 
remains the sadness of the former misunderstanding. The thought 
of a Montalembert departed enjoying a secure and splendid 
fame, does not remove from our vision the Montalembert of 
flesh and blood whose whole life was spent in alternate suffer- 
ing between the attacks of those without the church and th$ 
shafts of those within. We are justified, therefore, in selecting 
from his life in this brief review such incidents as show him 
to us stricken and disappointed. Never is he grander. Never 
is his character seen to be loftier than when he submits his 
courtly spirit to chastisement and* correction. Never is his life- 
long and life-sustaining devotion to Catholicity proved more 
unselfish and divine than when the church appears to have 
thrown him aside as a discredited and useless aspirant to be 
her champion. To those that can bear the lesson, Montalembert 
is a supreme teacher of loyalty. And who shall say how many 
wavering souls in the several unhappy events and passionate 
periods since his death, may not have been enabled to hold 
fast to faith and conscience by his example ? 

LAMENNAIS AND THE REVOLUTION. 

In the month of July, 1830, a revolution burst from the 
streets of Paris and hurled Charles X. from the throne of the 
Bourbons. With the royalty, the church too seemed to be 
flung for ever from the soil of France, Irreligion and impiety 
swept through the country as in the days of Mirabeau and 
Robespierre. Notre Dame de Paris was once more desecrated 
by a horde of despoilers. The Archbishop of Paris had to hide 
from the fury of the mob. Priests who appeared in soutane 
were set upon without mercy. Seminaries were closed and 



464 MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS, [Jan., 

churches barred. M. Janin declared: "The Church was already 
an invalid, but the revolution of July has killed it quite." 
" The old religion/' said Heinrich Heine, " has already fallen 
into decay. The majority of Frenchmen wish to avoid speak- 
ing of its corpse, and hold handkerchiefs to their noses when 
anyone mentions the church." If a. man openly professed him- 
self a Christian, he was pointed out in the street with Votla un 
homme qui fait ses pdques / " There goes a fellow who makes 
his Easter-duty " ! In the face of this tempest Catholics lay 
prostrate and unresisting. " The bishops," wrote Louis Veuillot, 
"are overwhelmed, intimidated, and silent." It was the hour 
of liberalism and libertarianism, thought the devout followers of 
the ancienne £glise and the ancien regimey and we must wait 
until the rabble are put down beneath the traditional sceptre of 
France. As the Bishop of Belley put it at the time : '* We 
must remain in a kind of patient nonentity." 

With these conditions face to face with the church of 
France, there appeared a mighty prophet of a new era — a 
tempestuous soul who threw himself fervently and furiously into 
any cause that won his heart. He spoke dauntlessly and in 
open court for Christianity that was going to the scaffold with- 
out an advocate. He flung * forth the inspiration and the 
challenge of a great message where others held the finger of 
caution to their lips. And his message to the church of France 
was to accept the situation of things and sanctify it ; to make a 
friend of popular liberty and consecrate it ; to go out and meet 
triumphant liberalism and correct, guide, and bless it. This 
man was Lamennais. Let us be just to him. Let us remember 
how noble he then was, how apostolic and how fearless. Let 
us remember his thrilling ambition to give his life and his 
genius for the conversion of his country. Let us remember 
that he gathered about him, and inspired and taught and loved 
a noble company of select souls whom he hoped to send out 
into the intellectual battle-fields of France to work, to suffer, 
and to die for God. Let us thus remember Lamennais. And 
for the rest, for the excesses of his incontrollable spirit, for his 
obstinacy, for his disobedience, for that last scene — the mourn- 
fulest in human history — where the outcast priest lies dying 
in old age and poverty, and refuses to be reconciled even at 
the end, let us leave all this in the dark region of inexplicable 
Providence. It is said that when he had drawn his last breath 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. 46S 

a great tear rolled from his eye and rested on the wan and 
withered cheek. It was a symbol of his piteous life's vicissi- 
tudes ; let us incline to regard it as also a sign of his great 
heart's contrition. 

Lamennais determined to Christianize the thought and life 
of France. His plan of campaign was to welcome liberty in 
whatever form he found it, and to strike down infidelity wher- 
ever it showed its head. To accomplish his purpose he founded 
the daily paper LAvenir, The first number appeared on the 
i6th of October, 1830, bearing the glorious motto, "God and 
Liberty ! " Associated with Lamennais in his apostolic enter- 
prise were the Abbes Lacordaire, Gerbet, and Rohrbaqher — 
illustrious names! — and of laymen, M. de Coux, M. Harel du 
Tancrel, the Baron Eckstein, and several others. The paper 
Instantly became a great power in the public life of France. 
The infidels feared it as their chief adversary ; the progressive 
spirits among French Catholics hailed it as a sign of deliver- 
ance; while the strongly conservative Catholics who regarded 
all compromise with modernity as diabolic, shrugged their 
shoulders in cautious disapprobation. Only a few numbers had 
lippeared when Lamennais received a letter from a young man, 
then travelling in Ireland, who bore one of the proudest names 
of France — de Montalembert. This letter contained the words : 
•* All that I know, all that I can do, I lay at your feet. 
Lamennais answered : " I shall be happy to be associated with 
you in defence of the fairest cause for which a man can fight 
— God and Liberty. Whatever subject you choose to discuss, 
Monsieur, the columns of the Avenir are always open to you." 
Within a fortnight Montalembert was working heart and soul 
by the side of Lamennais. 

MONTALEMBERT*S EARLY IDEALS. 

Charles Forbes Rene de Montalembert was at that time 
twenty years of age. On his father's side he was descended 
from a line of heroes who had fought, since the days of the 
Crusades, on nearly every battle-field where the standard of 
France was raised. St. Louis, Duguesclin, the Comte de 
Nevers, and Bayard had witnessed, and on certain historic occa- 
sions had publicly praised, the courage of one or other of the 
intrepid race. Montalembert's mother was a Miss Forbes, born 
a Protestant, but when her afterwards famous son was twelve 



466 MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS, [Jan., 

years of age converted to Catholicity, and came of an old and 
honorable family of Scotland. The boy's early years were 
blameless and pure. An affectionate disposition, a fearless 
courage, and a lofty appreciation of truth and virtue developed 
in him at an extraordinarily youthful age, and seemed to mark 
him as a predestined champion of some high and holy cause. 
Growing to manhood, he saw that this cause was the church 
and liberty, and into it he threw himself with the full fervor 
of his generous spirit. Already as a boy he had stood up 
valiantly for religion in the school of Sainte-Barbe, which at 
that time was a very nest of precocious infidels. The spirit 
prevalent there is indicated in an astounding incident. One 
day the class of philosophy drove their instructor from the 
room, and put to a vote the question : Does God exist ? The 
affirmatives carried the day by a majority of one ! It was a 
momentous day when the young nobleman first opened the 
pages of the Avenir, At last a way seemed thrown open to 
him for serving his chosen standards. Here was the work of 
his life already begun. His journal of the period discloses his 
sentiments : '' A glorious destiny is at last appearing for Catho- 
licity. Freed from alliance with the civil power, the church 
will possess once again its ancient strength, and liberty and 
energfy. For myself, cut off from a political career, I am re- 
solved to consecrate my life and my studies to the defence of 
this sacred cause." 

THREE VALIANT WARRIORS. 

Lamennais, Lacordaire, and Montalembert worked harmoni- 
ously together. They encouraged, inspired, and counselled one 
another; and in a short time those three great hearts were 
bound together in one of the fairest friendships of Christian 
history. Under their leadership the Aventr grew in vigor and 
influence. " Absolutism," it declared, " is vanishing from the 
face of Europe. The reign of the people is here to remain for 
ever. Catholics, accept liberty ! Give up your idle sighs for 
the ancien regime. Take to yourselves the spirit of modern 
civilization. Adopt and help to establish freedom of conscience 
and freedom of the press. Break off all unions of Church and 
State. The church is feeble and of no influence with the 
masses, because her clergy have been too long the gendarmes 
de la royaute, the policemen of the monarchy. Go to the 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. 467 

people! Go to the age; mingle with it; welcome it; conquer 
it ! " But the valiant crusaders were not satisfied with mere 
wordsy however eloquent. They acted, and roused a nation to 
act with them. They founded an Agence generaU for banding 
together and inspiriting the disorganized and discouraged Catho- 
lics of France. They strove to arouse an enthusiasm which 
should be as universal as the church. M. de Coux put himself 
in communication with the United States, and received from 
several American cities expressions of support and sympathy. 
Montalembert collected eighty thousand francs for the cause of 
Ireland. He helped to his .utmost " martyr Poland/' whose 
struggle against Russian tyranny the Avenir had ardently sup- 
ported from the first. Germany, Belgium, and even distant 
Sweden, felt and responded to the new spirit that spread 
abroad from La Chenaie. In the propaganda to be carried on 
in France Montalembert was assigned the twenty-two depart- 
ments of the South. This region he traversed thoroughly, 
speaking, exhorting, and organizing everywhere. Already a 
masterful orator, his fame went before him, and his tour was a 
consolation and a triumph. Returning to Lyons after his holy 
labors he wrote: "These days will be for ever graven in my 
memory along with the recollection of the Catholic people who 
have lavished their affection on me. It is the most splendid 
and beautiful period of my life." 

A day or two after his arrival at Lyons letters reached him 
from Lamennais and Lacordaire. They brought the crushing 
news that the Avenir had suspended publication. Lamennais' 
noble words were these : " Let us see and adore in what has 
happened the holy will of God. Let us strive to serve Him in 
some other way in the place of refuge which His goodness 
will provide for us." Montalembert's own expressions in his 
journal reveal both the filial child of the Most High, and the 
scion of ancient warriors : " The will of God be done. I give 
thanks to Heaven that I have nothing to regret in what I have 
done : I have gained a precious friend ; I have gained a mas- 
ter; I have gained above all a mission, a great idea which 
must dominate and quicken my whole life. To that mission 
and that idea I swear I shall be faithful." 

MISTAKES OF THE "AVENIR." 

Every one now knows why the Avenir^ after thirteen months 



468 MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. [Jan., 

of magnificent battle with the enemies of the church, had to 
leave the field just when the world was listening to catch its 
cry of triumph. The bishops of France were of opinion that 
the paper was revolutionary. It encouraged democracy, and 
democracy was evil. It called for the separation of church and 
state, and such a separation would be disastrous. It flung aside 
the past too unceremoniously ; it welcomed modern civilization 
too boisterously ; for the past is sacrosanct, and modern civil- 
ization is unsound and possibly diabolic. So they denounced 
the journal in public; they forbade their priests to read it; 
they removed pastors and professors who looked favorably upon 
it ; they refused Holy Orders to young clerics who sympathized 
with it; they deluged Rome with petitions to condemn it. 

If we are tempted to be impatient with these men, we shall 
do well not to overlook one or two points in their behalf In 
the first place, the Avenir was certainly imprudent more than 
once in cutting loose from old moorings, and unwise in its 
language of laudation respecting the new order. The conserva- 
tive spirit may be broadened, but only by the use of com- 
promise and patience. Ridicule but embitters it; haste makes 
it suspicious. Now, the Avenir took little pains to be either 
compromising or patient. Too often it tried to drive by the 
lash those whom it should have humored by kindness; and 
rarely did it treat with deference the prejudices of a thousand 
years. And in the second place, the events we are speaking of 
took place seventy years ago — and the world has changed vastly 

» 

in seventy years. To-day, it seems certain, the Avenir and its 
directors would be better appreciated. To-day, it is likely, the 
bishops of France would give thanks to God if there should 
arise in behalf of their stricken church, three leaders like Mon- 
talembert, Lacordaire, and the unfallen Lamennais. 

CONDEMNED BY ROME. 

The rest of the story of the Avenir must be briefly told. 
Lamennais, Lacordaire, and Montalembert set out for Rome to 
vindicate themselves in the very presence of the Father of the 
faithful. Their Roman experience was disheartening indeed. 
They were treated by several of the great churchmen of the 
Curia with coldness, and by some with disdain. Even when 
they were listened to, the passionless diplomacy of the Italian 
prelates fell like ice upon their earnest zeal and Gallic fervor. 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. 469 

Gregory XVL received them, but, to their bitter disappoint- 
ment, spoke only of commonplaces, avoiding the slightest refer- 
ence to their mission or their fate. On the twenty-fifth of 
February, 1832, Cardinal Pacca handed them a note which in- 
formed them that while the Holy Father recognized their good 
intentions, he looked with displeasure upon their stirring up of 
certain controversies which were at least dangerous; that their 
views would be examined, but that as this examination would 
take a long time, the Pope desired them to return to France. 
" It is the ruin of our hopes," wrote Montalembert, " but we 
must be resigned and wait for justification at the hands of God. 
Our conscience is without reproach, our hearts without the 
least remorse." On the thirtieth of the following August the 
three friends were at Munich, where an elaborate banquet was 
given them before their departure from the city. Their hosts 
were Schelling, Baader, Gorres, DoUinger, and other men of 
learning and reputation. In the midst of the feast Lamennais, 
apparently called by some one, left the room. He returned in 
a few minutes with a happy face and calm demeanor. Cour- 
teously he asked if the singer who had been entertaining the 
company would not favor him with a repetition of the verses 
sung in his absence. Then turning quietly to Lacordaire he 
whispered : " I have just received a Papal encyclical which is 
against us. We must submit at once." That night the three 
confreres in sorrow sent to Rome a written submission to the 
Mirari vos, Lamennais spent a great part of the night in 
prayer. 

When a man has been publicly humiliated by ecclesiastical 
authority, there is greater need than in perhaps any other crisis 
of a soul to deal with his broken spirit tenderly. For greater 
than all other men's sufferings are his sufferings, and most ter- 
rible his temptations. To acknowledge before the world that 
one's life principles are pernicious ; that one's highest ideals are 
not worthy of the love, but are deserving of the hatred of 
mankind; to come out wearing the badge of shame while a uni- 
verse looks on, and ask that none should follow in one's foot- 
steps or give heed to one's words; by one's own voluntary act 
to hand down one's name to posterity, that it may stand in 
history for ever as a sign of something erroneous, hateful, 
reprobate ; — this beyond question is the most profound and pain- 
ful exercise of self-humiliation possible to man. And it is the 



470 MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. [Jan., 

harder according as the victim's genius is more splendid and 
his spirit more independent. It would not astonish us indeed 
to find that proportionately fewer men have submitted for reli- 
gion's sake to such a trial, than have gone in the same cause 
to the galleys or the stake. It would seem that thus to slay a 
human being need be but an infrequent thing; it is certain 
that it should ever be done as mercifully as possible. It is 
certain that to one so struck there should be shown the most 
generous sympathy, the most compassionate kindness. In no 
other ministration of mercy could men more resemble Him who 
would not break the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. 
It is sad, and in view of the awful issue, it is terrifying to 
reflect that Lamennais was denied by many the sympathy that 
would make his cross less grievous. Scarcely had he written 
his submission to the Pope, when the Archbishop of Toulouse 
set to work upon the flies of the Avenir^ and extracted from 
them flfty-six propositions which he sent to Rome for con- 
demnation. Gregory XVI. refused to pronounce the condemna- 
tion, but in a private letter to the archbishop, never intended 
for publication, he complained that Lamennais had not been 
loyal to his submission. The Pope had reason for this com- 
plaint, as Lamennais, while never retracting his acceptance of 
the Mirari Vos^ had used bitter and imprudent expressions in 
certain letters to his friends. Unhappily Gregory's letter was 
published. Lamennais was exasperated thus to see another 
weapon put into the hands of his enemies. Nevertheless he 
wrote at once to the Pope a renewal of his profound submis- 
sion to all decisions on faith, morals, and general discipline. 
He added the unfortunate words, that he would never again 
concern himself in any matter of ecclesiastical interest. The 
Pope's response was a brief to the Bishop of Rennes, dated the 
flfth of October, 1833. In this he calls upon Lamennais to 
follow absolutely the teaching of the late encyclical, and to 
write and approve nothing that would not conform to it. The 
Pontiff then went on to declare that the most grievous of his 
many afflictions was a book just then circulating widely in 
Europe: Le Livre des Pelerins Polonais. The preface to this 
book, said the brief, was especially violent and dangerous. The 
Livfe des Pelerins Polonais was written by a Polish exile in 
France, Adam Mi^ki^wicz, and was a passionate narrative of 
the sufferings inflicted by Russia on the Poles. The book con- 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. 47 1 

tained, besides, views on European politics which are said to 
have been overwrought The work was put into French, and 
the preface . improbated by the Pope was from the pen of Mon- 
talembert. The noble youth — he was but twenty -three — was 
dazed by the terrible blow of this official censure. His journal 
contains these reflections on the calamity : /' And this is the 
first mark of public attention which I have received from the 
head of the church, after having consecrated my entire young 
manhood to his defence. Behold me denounced to Catholics 
for their reprobation — me who am every day detaching myself 
from all that is not Catholic, and who have taken the resolu- 
tion to live only for the church ! " But Montalembert's submis- 
sion was complete. He gave orders to buy up the whole 
edition of Les Pelerins^ and professed his sorrow at whatever 
excessive and harmful phrases his preface had employed. 

LAMENNAIS' REBELLION AND FALL. 

When Lamennais received this brief of Gregory's, he set 
out at once for Paris to g^ve into the hands of the nuncio 
himself his response to the Pope's propositions. The Bishop of 
Rennes interpreted his departure as an act of contumacious re- 
bellion, and suspended him without giving him an opportunity 
for a definite pronouncement or for an explanation. At 
about the same time the Bishop of Seez declared, in a dis- 
course preached at a clerical retreat, that the editors of the 
late Avenir were inspired by avarice, that they were extreme 
Jacobinists, and that they were guilty of many evil deeds, that 
of violating the Sabbath among the number. In addition to all 
this, ugly rumors were prevalent that the schools in charge of 
Lamennais' brother, the Abb^ Jean, were about to be forbid- 
den to Catholic children, and perhaps permanently dissolved. 
This accumulation of onslaughts both stunned and maddened 
the hunted victim who stood at bay. Nevertheless on the 5th 
of November he sent still another declaration to Rome. He 
affirmed once more his submission to whatever of doctrine or 
of discipline the encyclical contained; but in what concerned 
the purely temporal order, he said he should retain perfect free- 
dom in opinion, utterance, and action. A month later he re- 
ceived a letter from Cardinal Pacca, which was kindly in tone, 
though rigid in requirement. It blamed Lamennais' distinction 
in terms, and demanded an absolute, unlimited adhesion to the 



472 MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. [Jan., 

Mirari Vos, Lamennais sent the following answer on the 
next day : " I declare that in the very terms contained in the 
brief of the Sovereign Pontiff Gregory XVI., of the fifth of 
October, 1833, I shall follow solely and sovereignly the teach- 
ing expressed in the encyclical of the same Pope, and I promise 
that I shall write nothing and approve nothing which is not 
conformable to this teaching.'' On the same day he sent to 
Montalembert a letter full of terrible forebodings. It ended 
with the words: "We shall be together on high, I trust; but 
on earth we must henceforth walk in divergent paths." Full of 
anxiety, Montalembert asked his beloved master what was 
meant by this deliberate sundering of their holy friendship. In 
a letter dated Christmas Day, 1833, Lamennais answered that 
he could not in conscience accept the position recently taken 
by the Pope, and that, over and above this, he had come to 
question some of the fundamental teiachings of the church. He 
had sent in his last submission, he continued, in order to avoid 
a new tempest of hatred against him. This declaration was 
Montalembert's crowning sorrow. For several days he was like 
a man distracted, taking long and lonely walks, and refusing to 
see visitors or friends. And this was the end of the little com- 
pany and of the mighty hopes that had been sheltered but a 
few months before beneath the roof of La Chenaie. Those 
hopes broken and ground into the earth, those fellow-workers 
in a great cause dispersed and shamed ; the master, friend, 
and father, an apostate ! We may in some way imagine Mon- 
talembert's weight of sadness, when even to ourselves of another 
race and country, and after an interval of three-quarters of a 
century, the incident is sorrowful inexpressibly. 

But meanwhile the report of Lamennais' complete submis- 
sion was published, and great was the rejoicing of Catholics. 
Montalembert perceived at once that if Lamennais, despite his 
threatened break with the church, would but remain in silence 
for a time, his bitterness might disappear, and his faith fully 
return. Accordingly he wrote a long letter to his friend, be- 
seeching him to say nothing and to publish nothing till the 
coming of calmer days. But Lamennais had in his desk a 
manuscript which he obstinately determined to put in print. 
Despite the counsel and the pleadings of his best friends, he 
gave this manuscript to Sainte-Beuve, and requested him to find 
a publisher. On the 26th of April appeared Les Paroles d'nn 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS, 473 

Croyant. Europe was stunned by the work. In the language 
now of ecstasy, now of fury, with startling figures, amazing 
metaphors, and apocalyptic visions, Lamennais in its pages is 
beside himself with zeal and the spirit of prophecy. The 
downfall of tyrants, the breaking of sceptres, the sway of the 
people, the shattering of the might of oppressors, the fulfilling 
of the cries and curses of the oppressed — these things roll 
through this unearthly book like alternate detonations of a bat- 
tle-field or like the antiphonal blessings and maledictions of 
Garizim and Hebal. " The devil has come into the world," 
said the Augsburg Gazette^ "holding this book in his hand." 
This was the opinion of all adherents of the old order. They 
regarded the work as the Bible of revolutionary democracy, as 
the charter of a universe of anarchy. On the 7th of July the 
encyclical, " Singulari Nos^' was issued in condemnation of the 
book, and this we may say is the final incident in the Catholic 
life of Lamennais. 

THE LIFE-WORK OF MONTALEMBERT. 

As for Montalembert, it is familiar history how he emerged 
from these storms of his early life and became the greatest 
layman of the church in his generation. His constant defence 
of the clergy ; his efforts to protect and purify Christian art ; 
his labors for the independence of Catholic schools against 
Hugo; his vindication of the Jesuits against Cousin; his man- 
agement of Le Correspondant^ which he made one of the most 
powerful organs of Catholic thought in Europe ; his advocacy 
of Pius IX. against Lord Palmerston ; his orations, which re- 
called the golden age of French eloquence ; his academic, 
political, and ecclesiastical distinctions; his entrance into the 
French Academy ; his reception of the doctor's degree from 
Oxford; the repeated encomiums passed upon him by Pius 
IX., at whose instance he was given the title Civis Romanus ; 
all this filled his life with honor, and placed him before the 
gaze of history as one of the most devoted, accomplished, and 
irreproachable cavaliers that ever brought into the lists the 
cause of his sovereign, the Church. 

But as he had entered his manhood accompanied with 
sorrow, so with sorrow was he to go down to the grave. In 
August, 1863, a Congress of Catholics was held at Malines, to 
which Montalembert was urgently invited After long hesitation 



474 MONTALEMBERT AND LAMENNAIS. [Jan., 

he accepted the invitation and promised to speak on the pres- 
ent relations and the future adjustment of modern society and 
the church. His two speeches on this subject before the con- 
gress are probably the masterpieces of his genius. The three 
thousand delegates who listened to him acclaimed him rapturously. 
In the person of these representatives, the Catholics of all 
Europe stood before him and shouted out their gratitude for 
his inestimable services, their pride in his supreme ability, and 
their support of his life-long principles. The Cardinal-Arch- 
bishop of Malines publicly felicitated him. M. Deschamps, 
minister of state, declared that the two addresses would live 
in history. King Leopold added his expressions of good-will. 
But there were those who said that Montalembert had gone too 
far in his advocacy of liberty of worship and of the press. 
Soon denunciations began to arrive iti Rome. The Bishop of 
Poitiers was urgent in petitioning for Montalembert's condemna- 
tion, and sent his vicar-general to Rome to promote the cause. 
Other bishops of France, Belgium, England, and Ireland — Ireland 
which Montalembert's great heart had so loved ! — demanded 
that the Pope should smite the orator of Malines with public 
reprobation. At Rome itself, Mgr. Talbot, Cardinal Pitra, and 
other powerful influences worked furiously and fast to loosen 
the thunderbolts of the Papacy. Montalembert's most indignant 
and energetic friends were Cardinal Stercks of Malines, Arch- 
bishop Guibert of Tours, the young Bishop of Nancy, Mgr. 
Lavigerie, and above all others the brilliant prelaite of Orleans, 
Mgr. Dupanloup. Bishop Dupanloup, in fourteen audiences with 
the Pope, urged the Pontiff to resist the importunities of the 
opponents and enemies of Montalembert, and demanded as his 
right as a bishop of France that if the Malines speeches should 
be referred to the Index for examination, he himself should be 
permitted to go before that congregation to defend them. 
These noble efforts availed little. Early in the March of 1864 
Montalembert received a private letter from Cardinal Antonelli 
containing Pius IX. 's condemnation of his discourses before the 
congress. Montalembert immediately sent to Rome a declara- 
tion of his unalterable submission to the church. But his heart 
was broken ; his sorrow was never to be consoled. A month 
later he wrote an article in the Correspondant eulogizing Pius 
IX. 's recent allocution in behalf of Poland. This article he 
dedicated to the Pope, but to his deep chagrin he received no 



1903.] MONTALEMBERT AND LAAfENNAlS. 475 

word of acknowledgment, though shortly afterward a nameless 
Belgian, one M. du Val de Beaulieu, obtained an ofBcial letter 
of approbation for a sophomonc refutation of Montalembert's 
discourses at Malines. 

Montalembert died on the thirteenth of March, 1870. When 
the news of his death reached Rome, his brother-in-law, Mgr. 
Merode, arranged for a Requiem Mass for the departed soul, 
in the Franciscan Church of Ara Cmli. The Cardinal-Vicar 
' peremptorily forbade the service to be held ! 

Few lives ever given to the, serwce of the Catholic Church 
are so noble and so inspiring as Montalembert's. It was his 
misfortune to be at times and in some of his opinions in 
advance of his generation. We are approaching a happier 
period when men with his great spirit will achieve his successes 
without experiencing his sorrows. 



Group op Dglsgat&s to thb Cohcrbss. 

Pkalegrapk latn m Iht tttfi aflAt AmtrUaii Mustum of Natural History' Neayerk. 



THE INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF AMERICANISTS. 



BY REV. CHARLES WARREN CURRIER. 



'HE progress made within the past century, at 
least from a material stand-point, is enormous 
and unprecedented in the history of the world. 
The nineteenth century outstripped all its prede- 
cessors, and the present one promises to utilize 
to their full extent the materials left to it by its immediate 
ancestor. When the nineteenth century began, the world was 
not very far in advance of the ptitht where the beginning 
of the fifteenth century found it. Wind, water, and human 
strength were the only motive powers that men knew, at least 
practicilly, and though iinprovements had been made, they were 
more in detail than in substance. Still, the germs had been 
produced from which nineteenth century progress was to re- 
sult. It was a long time since the old a priori, or deductive. 



I903-] Congress of Americanists. 477 

method of the Scholastics, had yielded to the a posteriori^ in- 
ductive, or experimental method which has since guided the ex- 
plorer in the realm of science. The deductive method was cer- 
tainly admirable, both in principle and in consequences, while 
the neglect of it cannot fail to prove fatal in scientific investi- 
gations. It stands to reason, that once certain principles are 
known, the conclusions deduced from them must be also certain, 
when drawn according to the rules that govern human thought. 
The syllogism has its root in the nature of the human intellect. 
Yet it was liable to abuse, and, in fact, it was abused. If it 
is scientifically wrong to neglect the deductive process of the 
mind, it is no less an abuse to despise the observation of phe- 
nomena, and to seek for truth exclusively within the intellect 
itself. It must be admitted that many philosophers in antiquity, 
and the Middle Ages generally, were too much given to build- 
ing up scientific systems upon a priori principles, following an 
analytic method, and ignoring facts. This was due partly to the 
traditional systems in vogue, systems that had been handed down 
from ancient Babylonia and Eg^pt through the philosophy of 
Greece; but, also, to the want of those instruments which have 
been so beneficial, and have become so indispensable in modem 
science. It is to the observation of phenomena that modern, ' 
positive science owes its enormous progress, and though it fails, 
again and again, yet plodding onward patiently, it has «been 
gathering the richest materials for the philosophy of the future. 
Our museums are filled with such materials, that are only await- 
ing a modern Aristotle, or Albertus Magnus, to reduce all 
the human knowledge of to-day to one grand, magnificent 
system* 

In the meantime we must rest content with laboring each 
in his special field, until that genius comes who will grasp all 
the materials we have collected, and give us a complete Summa 
Philosophica. 

The importance of the New World in the progress that 
humanity has made since the fifteenth century can scarcely be 
exaggerated. New vistas were opened before the eyes of aston- 
ished mankind, old notions were corrected, and numerous prob- 
lems presented themselves for solution. Men, seeking for truth, 
were not slow to perceive the advantages that the discovery of 
Columbus offered them, and, from the end of the fifteenth cen- 
tury down, they have devoted themselves with untiring zeal to 

VOL. LXXVI.— 31 



47* Congress of Americanists, [Jan., 

the study of matters connected with the new world, such as 
its geology, natural history, ethnology, philology, and history. 
Von Humboldt, Agassiz, Darwin, Audubon, St. Vincent, Vater, 
Brasseur de Bourbourg, are only a few of the more illustrious 
names of those who have occupied themselves with America 
from a scientific stand- point. 

For all branches of human activity there has always been a 
•tendency toward concerted action, for man is characteristically 
a social being. His limited sphere of action renders him de- 
pendent upon other men, and what he does not find in himself 
he seeks in others. This interdependence of man upon man is 
the basis of trade and commerce among individuals and na- 
tions. It is, also, the reason for scientific associations. Proud 
indeed, and self-reliant even to temerity, must he be who, con- 
-centrated within himself and isolated from others, feels self- 
sufficient, and disdains the aid that others can offer him. Be- 
sides, there is that within the human heart that craves for sym- 
pathy. Men of similar ideas, tastes, views, and pursuits gravi- 
tate quite naturally and spontaneously to each other, and truly 
noble is that friendship which is based upon intellectual ac- 
tivity. Plato in his academy, Aristotle in his walks, Cicero in 
'Tusculum, and Augustine at Cassiacum loved to surround them- 
selves with kindred spirits to discuss the great questions of the 
mind. These noble reunions were the forerunners in a remote 
pxst of the modern scientific associations and congresses, both 
national and international, in which learned men meet to dis- 
cuss, as of old, subjects of the gravest interest, and to rise 
above the petty trifles of the passing day. In these gatherings, 
especially in the international congresses, scholars from different 
countries of the globe become personally acquainted with each 
other, and with each other's work. Their horizon is widened, 
erroneous ideas are corrected, and by the interchange of views 
in private conversation, as well as in public debate, new interest 
is awakened, and a fresh impetus given to scientific research. 
Moreover, concerted action is produced, and the scientist finds 
himself no longer isolated, but working in fellowship with hun- 
dreds of kindred spirits who are laboring on similar fields all 
. over the world. 

Such congresses are now on the order of the day. Medical, 

charitable, reform, scientific congresses are constantly meeting 

> in one city or another, and the results of their deliberations 



^903-] Congress of Americanists. 479 

are given to the world in learned publications that contribute 
greatly toward the diffusion of knowledge. 

About a quarter of a century ago, or more, scholars inter- 
ested in the New World first came together in the city of 
Nancy in France, and thus originated the International Con- 
gress of Americanists, which has been held every two years 
since. Among the originators of the movement were M. Adam, 
and that well-known ethnologist, the colaborer and successor of 
the celebrated De Quatrefages at the Trocadero, M. Hamy. 

The International Congress of Americanists has as its scope 
the discussion and elucidation of scientific matters appertaining 
to the Western Hemisphere, such as geography, ethnology, 
archaeology, philology, and history. Ten years ago, on the 
occasion of the fourth centenary of the discovery of America, 
the ninth International Americanist Congress met at Huelva, in 
the south of Spain. 

The occasion was one not easily forgotten, and the ties formed 
there have been strengthened by time. The Congress at Huelva 
was, perhaps, the largest gathering of Americanists ever seen. 
It was opened in the early part of October, 1892, in the his- 
toric convent of La Rabida, where four hundred years pre- 
viously Columbus had enjoyed the hospitality of the Franciscan 
guardian of the convent, Fray Juan Perez. The men assembled 
within that Gothic courtyard, on that memorable tnorning, were 
among the distinguished scientists of the world. Canovas del 
Castillo, who so soon, alas! was to fall under an assassin's 
hand, opened the session. On the one side of him sat Saenz 
de Uturi, then Bishop of Badajoz, and, later, Archbishop of San- 
tiago de Cuba, and on the other, the President of the Congress, 
Antonio Maria Fabie, formerly minister of the colonies, and a 
distinguished writer. Two illustrious members of the Congress 
lay at that moment in their coffins, Don Pedro, ex-£mperor of 
Brazil, and Ernest Renan, the Orientalist. Among the names 
of the distinguished scholars present that morning I recall 
those of Jules Oppert, the well-known Assyriologist ; Dr. Hamy, 
of the Trocadero in Paris; M. Dimitrios Bikelas of Athens, a 
litterateur known to fame, not only in his own country but 
also in France, England, and here; the Duke, then Count, de 
Loubat, that great patron of learning ; and the late Baron Nor- 
denskjold, the arctic explorer. Others of the Huelva Congress 
were also present ~at the New York session, and I shall speak 



Congress of Americanists. [Jan., 



The Duke de Loubat. Honorary Pkescdknt of the Congress. 

of them later. The sessions which began at La Rabida, 
continued at the Hotel Colon in the neighboring town of 
Huelva. The Congress was solemnly closed by her Majesty 
Maria Christina, the Queen Regent, in person, the venerable 
Baron Nordenskjold delivering the address to her Majesty. 

Since that period sessions of the International Congress of 
Vmericanists have been held in Berlin, Mexico, Stockholm, and 



1903.] Congress of Americanists. 481 

Paris. The Congress just closed in New York ranks as the 
thirteenth. A word as to its work, and the personnel that 
composed it, is now in order. Its sessions were held, from 
October 20th to the 25th, in the American Museum of Natural 
History, under the presidency of Mr. Morris Ketchum Jesup of 
New York, who is also president of the museum, and whose 
benefactions to science are well known. Besides donating to 
the museum a $( 00,000 collection of native woods, he sent an 
expedition to the North Pacific, the results of which may be 
seen in one o£ the large halls of the building. 

The honorary President of the Congress was the Duke de 
Loubat, who, as I have said, was also present at the sessions 
held in Huelva, ten years ago. Joseph Florimond, Duke de 
Loubat, was born in New York in 1831 of French ancestry. 
He graduated as Bachelier es Lettres at the University of France, 
and, some years later, we find him attached to the embassy of 
Wiirtemberg at Paris. The large fortune to which he had 
fallen heir enabled him to promote admirably the cause of 
higher education. He has especially devoted himself, however, 
to such studies as lie within the scope of the Americanist Con* 
gress, and he has donated numerous prizes for the best works 
and essays on such subjects. Many are the institutions of 
learning, both here and abroad, that have been the objects of 
the liberality of the Duke de Loubat. The Columbia Univer- 
sity has been richly endowed by him, and, among those that 
have been benefited by his munificence, I may mention the 
Acad^mi^ des Inscriptions et Belles- Lettres of Paris, the New 
York Historical Society, the Royal Academy of Sciences at 
Berlin, the Royal Academy of Belles-Lettres, History, and 
Antiquities of Stockholm, the Catholic University of Washing- 
ton, the Church of Perugia, etc. 

The Duke de Loubat is a member of several learned soci- 
eties, a doctor of the University of Jena, and he has been 
decorated by many crowned heads of Europe. He is a knight 
of the Order of Frederick of Wurtemberg, of the Order of 
the Crown of Wurtemberg with a title of nobility and the right 
to appear at court, of the Imperial Order of the Legion of 
Honor of France, Commander of the Order of Saint Stanis- 
laus of Russia, Commander of the Order of Wasa of Sweden, 
Commander of the Order of the Crown of Prussia, Knight of 
the Order of Albert of Saxon* ' '^at of Zaehringen of 



482 Congress of Americanists. [Jan., 

Baden, and Prince Danilo I. of Montenegro, Knight of the 
Order of Dannebrog of Denmark, of that of Merit of the Crown 
of Bavaria, Commander of the Order of Isabella the Catholic 
of Spain and of the Order of the Bust of the Liberator of 
Venezuela, Knight of the Order of the Saviour of Greece, 
besides other honors that have been conferred upon him. 
There are few men, I think, who have enjoyed such distinction. 
His fidelity to and filial affection for the head of the Church 
have been rewarded with the highest honors that the Sovereign. 
Pontiff is accustomed to bestow upon a layman. .At first Papal 
Count with the right of a coat- of- arms, and the dignity made 
hereditary in his family, in 1893 the Holy Father conferred up- 
on him the dignity of Pontifical Duke, to which, a short time 
later, a ducal coat-of- arms was added. 

The Duke de Loubat is the greatest patron of Americanist 
studies, and he has been a familiar figure at the Americanist 
Congress. At least two chairs of American ethnology and 
archaeology were established by him : one at Berlin, in charge 
of Dr. Seler, and the other at the College de France, presided 
over by Dr. Lejeal. 

We would be carried too far were we to attempt an enumera- 
tion of the various distinguished persons who composed the 
Congress, and must therefore content ourselves with the mention 
of merely a few names. The two officers of the Congress upon 
whom a great deal of the practical work developed were Messrs* 
Marshall N. Saville and Harlan L. Smith, both connected with 
the American Museum of Natural History, and both eminent in 
their special fields. The former has carried on extensive work 
among the ruins of Central America and Mexico, and the latter, 
besides his explorations of the North American mounds, was. 
the archaeologist on the Jesup North Pacific Expedition. Mr. 
Saville was secretary, and Mr. Smith treasurer of the Congress. 
Among other distinguished Americans present I will mention 
the names of Starr of Chicago, Holmes, Hodge, and McGee of 
Washington, Culin of Philadelphia, Thompson of Yucatan, 
Putnam of Cambridge, Mass., and Gilman of Baltimore. Dr. 
Daniel Coit Gilman, until recently president of the Johns 
Hopkins University, is at present at the head of the Carnegie 
Institution. Dr. F. W. Putnam is professor of American archae- 
ology and ethnology at Harvard, and curator of the Peabody 
Museum of Cambridge. Dr. Frederick Starr, of the University 



J 903] Congress of Americanists. 483 



PROMtKENT MeUBEBS OF THE CONGRESS. 

of Chicago, has done much work in Mexico, greatly at his own 
expense, and he is an authority on the ethnology of Mexican 
Indians. Stewart CuUn, of the University of Pennsylvania, has 
written much on anthropology, and devoted special attention to 
the practices of prehistoric races. He was a distinguished 
member of the Ameridanist Congress in Spain ten years aj^o. 
Professor Holmes has recently been appointed chief oi itie 
Bureau of Ethnology at Washington, to succeed the late Miijor 
Powell. He is also the head curator of the department of 
anthropology at the National Museum, and known as the author 
of a number of works. Dr. W. L. McGce, also of the Burtau 
of Ethnology, is hardly less known as a geologist, and he ranks 
highly among American ethnologists. Mr. Thompson, Unitfd 
States consul in Yucatan, has for many years been devoting 
himself unostentatiously to patient labor^ among the Maya 
Indians, and to the ethnology and archaeology of the country 
in which he lives. Finally, Mr. F. W. Hodge is a young and 
energetic man of English birth, who came to this country when 
a child, a worker at the Smithsonian Institution, and the 
managing editor of the American Anthropologist. He is well 



484 Congress of Americanists. [Jan., 

' known as an Americanist, and as the author of a cyclopsedia 
of Indian tribes. These are a few names of those American 
gentlemen who are helping to build up the ethnology and 
archaeology of the New World. 

The work has, however, not been limited to men. I might 
mention Mrs. Virginia McClurg, who, with her associates, has 
labored to preserve the Colorado Cliff Dwellings from destruc- 
tion; Miss Alice Fletcher, of the Peabody Museum of Harvard 
University and a resident of Washington, who, besides her 
scientific work, had also been laboring practically for the 
amelioration of the condition of the Indians. 

Foremost among the women workers on the Americanist 
^eld stands Mrs. Zelia Nuttall, a native of California, and con- 
nected with the university of her State. At the Congress of 
Huelva her paper was one of the best, if not the best, read. 
She was one of the very few Americans present, and she was 
honorably mentioned to the Queen Regent, to whom she was 
presented. At the International Congress of Stockholm, a few 
years later, she read a paper in the presence of King Oscar 
of Sweden. She speaks about seven languages, and she has 
travelled through many countries. She has devoted herself 
especially to Mexican antiquities and hieroglyphics. ' Space is 
not permitted to dilate much on her extensive works, but suf- 
fice it to say that she has been very fortunate in unearthing 
several important Mexican relics in the libraries and museums 
of Europe. Her most recent and, perhaps, most valuable dis- 
covery is that of a superb ancient Mexican codex, which she 
found in private possession in England. It has been named 
after her "Codex Nuttall." It has been reproduced in this 
country, and it is the first important publication of the kind 
mide in the United States. Copies of it were presented by her 
to President Diaz of Mexico and to President Roosevelt. Mrs. 
Nuttall has recently purchased an old building in Mexico, 
erected hundreds of years ago by the conqueror Alvarado, and 
here she intends to take up her residence, in order to prose- 
cute her studies in company with her daughter, whose tastes 
are similar to those of her mother. One of Mrs. Nuttall's 
largest works is a study of comparative civilizations. 

The foreigners present in New York were all men of note and 
distinguished in their several fields. There was Dr. Lejeal of the 
'College de France, who occupies the Loubat chair in that 



1903.] Congress of Americanists. 485 



FOBEHOST AMONG THE WOUBM WORKKRS IS MRS. ZELIA NUTTALL. 

institution; Dr. Seler of Berlin and Mrs. Seler, who shares his 
labors, and in whose company he has made archxologtcal re- 
searches in Guatemala, under the auspices of the Duke de Loubat; 
Dr. Ambrosetti, of the Argentine Republic; Mr. Hjlmar Stoipe, 
representing the government of Sweden, and his fellow-country- 
min, Hartmann of the Swedish Anthropological Society, and a 
winner of one of the Loubat prizes ; Baron van Panhuys, the 
representative of the Dutch government, besides a number of 
others. I should also mention that learned man, Juan F. Ferraz 
of Costa Rica, distinguished as a linguist, orientalist, and 
Americanist. 



486 Congress of Americanists, [Jan., 

These are a few of the names of those who attended the 
Thirteenth International Congress of Americanists. Those ac- 
quainted with them and their work will easily acknowledge the 
excellence of the body they composed. It truly deserved the 
name of a most learned gathering. 

I sincerely regret that our own Catholic learning was not 
represented. This was not the fault of the Congress, I am sure. 
Its work belongs pre-eminently to the Catholic Church, whose 
children discovered and first coloniztd America. One of the 
best writers to whom Americanists look .up was a Catholic 
priest, the renowned Bfasseur de Bourbourg. There is no 
reason why the present generation of Catholics, especially 
American Catholics, should not take a greater interest in a 
work that is eliciting the sympathy of learned men all over the 
world. It seems to me that there ought to be a centre of 
Catholic Americanist studies in Rome itself, or at Washington^ 
which might serve as a guide for similar studies in other portions 
of the globe. The field is vast, and a cursory glance at the 
papers presented at our congress suffices to show how much 
has been done, and how much remains to be done. 

Subjects such as the antiquity of man, the unity of the 
human race, myths and traditions of races, the relationship of 
languages, chronology and the calendar of the semi- civilized 
races of America, and the religions of the New World, may 
not be lightly dismissed. They are of the deepest interest to 
the Catholic philosopher and theologian, nor can they be 
studied exclusively in the seclusion of the cloister. To under- 
stand them thoroughly the inductive method of reasonings 
observation, and exploration are absolutely required, and one 
must come into close touch with men whose life-work runs 
along these lines. Moreover, there is the arena of history. 
How many errors are not allowed to pass unnoticed ! It is the 
duty of Catholics to keep a vigilant eye upon history and 
historians, at least for the love of truth, if for nothing else. 
It is much to be desired, I think, that for these reasons Catho-. 
lies should be awakened to an interest in Americanist studies. 

After the close of the Congress, the foreign delegates, by 
courtesy of the Pennsylvania Railroad, visited Washington, 
where they were presented to the President of the United 
States. A pleasant day was spent in the national capital. The 
Rector of the Catholic University honored us with his presence 



1903.] Congress of Americanists. 48 j 

at luncheon and dinner, and, in the evening, the Americanists 
continued their journey to Chicago. 

Thus passed the" Thirteenth Americanist Congress into 
history. When it meets again, two years hence, it will be at 
Stuttgart, the capital of Wiirtemberg, the king of which is in- 
terested in Americanist studies. 

The kindly spirit manifested toward each other by the 
members has, I am sure, left the most salutary impression, and 
many a friendship begun here will last through life. 

Among our pleasant recollections incidents of the American- 
ist Congress will not stand in the background. The first sessions 
were held in a hall of the executive apartments of the museum, 
but the growing numbers rendered it necessary to remove to 
the large lecture hall. The second afternoon session in the 
former place comes back to me like a pleasant dream. Far 
beneath us was the busy city of New York, teeming with activ- 
ity, with its vast population whirled hither and thither by a 
million cares, and occupied with the ever- changing present. 
Far above them were united a few scholars, gathered from many 
lands, whose thoughts arose above the passions of the multitude 
and wandered away to a remote past, to the great discoverers 
of America, to the prehistoric races of the New World, and to 
those subjects with which the busy, money-seeking throng has 
little to do. Out in the distance, through a window, one might 
catch a glimpse of nature in its purity, where, like a picture 
set in a frame, the waving trees in Central Park, with their 
autumn leaves turning to gold, nodded to the breeze. The 
shadows were lengthening on the earth, and the declining day 
added a sweet touch of autumnal sadness to the scene, while 
the tongue discoursed and the mind dwelt on other scenes far 
distant, and on other days that had passed away for ever. 

It was with regret that the Americanists parted from each 
other, to return to their respective fields of labor, giving one 
another rendezvous at Stuttgart, or, at least, expressing the, 
hope that they would meet again. 



488 PROGRESS IN THEOLOGY. [Jan., 



PROGRESS IN THEOLOGY." 

BY REV. JAMES J. FOX, D.D. 

I. 

THEOLOGY ADAPTABLE, 

I the ecclesiastical student surveys the vast field of 

the sacred sciences with which he is supposed to 

become acquainted, he can hardly help a feeling 

of dismay, and a conviction of the impossibility 

of accomplishing the task in the space of half a 

dozen years. And if this conviction does not deepen upon htm 

in the course of his studies, it may be doubted whether he has 

grasped the character of his work at all. 

Yet, however strongly he may feel his inadequacy during 
his seminary years, it is only later on that he awakens to the 
immensity of the field of modern thought through which the 
religious problem is interwoven. Only as he comes in contact 
with unbelief, arrayed tn the security of scientific prestige, does 
he fully realrze how complete is the equipment required for the 
priest who is desirous — as every priest ought to be — of being 
able worthily to represent the church among men of education 
and culture, and of giving to all comers a reason for the faith 
that is in him. The future professor may solve the difficulty 
for himself by specialization. But what is to be done for the 
greater number who are destined to pass at once from the 
seminary to the ministry 7 Evidently utility ought to be the 
standard by which a selection is to be made of branches, sub- 
jects, and questions, when it is impossible to attend to all. 

Now, utility means adaptation to a specific end. In select- 
ing his toots, the workman is guided by the nature of the 
material on which he is to work. When preparing his plans 
and providing for his equipment, the engineer carefully calcu- 
lates the obstacles to be overcome, the medium in which he is 
to operate, the forces to be extinguished or made subservient 
to his purpose. Similarly, if the student wishes to get the best 
results, his years of preparation must be shaped to the condi- 

• Delivered before Ihe Literary Society of Si. Joseph's Seminary, Dunvfoodie, New York, 



1903.] Progress in Theology. 489 

tions in which his lot is cast The first duty of a general is 
to make himself acquainted with the strength and position of 
the enemy, and the character of the ground on which the im- 
pending struggle is to be fought After mastering the knowl- 
edge necessary to him as the minister of the sacraments and 
the dispenser of the Word to the flock confided to him, the 
priest ought to devote his time to equipping himself as a de- 
fender of the faith. 

Now, our philosophy and theology are the results accumu- 
lated from the church's life of two thousand years, her internal 
growth, her adaptation to the transient as well as the perma- 
nent needs of mankind, her struggles, and her victory over the 
ever-changing forms of error. By the expert eye the phases of 
her history may be read in the development of our philosophy 
and theology. 

We find in the accumulations of theological lore, with its 
deposits from various ages, traces of the different phases through 
which the mind has passed ; just as the geologist reads in the 
strata of the earth the history of its development 

' Mingled with the valuable minerals which we dig up to sustain 
the activities of commerce or the graces of civilization, and to 
sustain our vital heat, are to be found detritus of the past, 
and fossil remains which serve to entertain the speculations of 
scientific leisure, or to adorn the museum of the antiquarian. 
Or, perhaps, one might more appropriately liken the sacred 
sciences to a vast armory in which are stored the weapons of 
all ages — the pebble and sling of the divinely accredited cham- 
pion of God, the sword and shield of the Middle Ages, charts 
of ancient battles, plans of campaigns fought and won by the 
church in days long gone by, artillery coeval with the inven- 
tion of gunpowder, and, if we know where to look for them, 
arguments as effective as the sling of David, to bring down the 
Goliath of modern unbelief. But on entering this store-house 
to equip ourselves for the fight we must know how to choose 
what is needed for our age in order not to make the blunder 
of arraying ourselves in the panoply of a crusader to go forth 
against a foe armed with high explosives and long-range guns. 

ERROR CHANGES. 

But, you will say, let us abandon metaphor. Is not truth 
unchanging and unchangeable — the same yesterday, to-day, and 



490 Progress in Theology. [Jan., 

for ever ? Error, indeed, is shifting, variable, and multiple ; 
but truth is permanent, consistent, one. The demonstrations of 
our fundamental doctrines, for example, have an objective value 
depending not on any particular phase of mind. The magnifi- 
cent system of Catholic theology, worked out by the master- 
minds of past ages, resting on the basis of infallible teaching, 
is in its splendid unity adapted to every age, and efficient 
against every adversary. True, I reply. Truth does not 
change ; but, as you say, error does. And it is not from the en- 
during character of truth, but through the Protean character of 
error that there arises a variation in the efficacy of certain demon- 
strations or reasons for belief, and a diminution in the actual 
importance of this or that theological treatise. The dogmas of 
the church, like the truths of Revelation, are immutable. Nor 
can the theological conclusions rigorously drawn from them 
vary any. more than the premisses; though, of course, it oc- 
casionally happens that the views of some learned theologian, 
once supposed to be bound to a dogma by a chain of irrefraga- 
ble logic, when subjected to longer scrutiny, shrink to their 
proper dimensions as very questionable human opinions. 

If, however, we are to make Catholic truth prevail, we must 
.present it under that aspect through which it will appeal most 
strongly to those whom we seek to convince. Not merely the 
•objective' value of an argument is to be considered, but also 
the force with which it appeals to a particular mental attitude. 
The Gospels themselves, though delivering the same doctrine, 
-vary in character according to the mentality of the people to 
whom they were first severally addressed. St. Matthew, writing 
for the Jews, invokes a kind of evidence neglected by St. Mark. 
To convey the same doctrine, Paul on the Areopagus speaks a 
different language from that which he uses when addressing his 
fellow-Hebrews. The Apology of St. Justin differs as much 
from the Summa of St. Thomas as the latter does from the 
controversial tomes of Bellarmin. The glorious successes of 
Fathers Jogues and Marquette were won by methods very dif- 
ferent from those employed by their fellow-Jesuits with equal 
effect in China, or the pulpit of Notre Dame. Even the classic 
proofs for the existence of God, the objective value of which is 
unquestioned, have had but little subjective weight with some 
most reverent minds. We need scarcely recall as an illustration 
of this statement the testimony of Cardinal Newman. Our 



I903-] PROGRESS IN Theology. '491 

argument from the moral government of the world ttieant' noth- 
ing to him. He declared that he might be a pantheist or a 
polytheist or an atheist for all the evidence to the contrary 
that he could see in the universe. 

In the words of a man whose name is never to be men- 
tioned without the profoundest respect, by the clergy of 
America — the late Abbe Hogan — "Men's minds are ever mov- 
ing, and it is simply wonderful what little hold 'certain argu- 
ments have on one generation which, to the preceding genera- 
tion, seemed unanswerable. New facts of history come to light 
and alter the views of things. Statements and principles uni- 
versally accepted in the past gradually make room for others, 
so a new presentation of the credentials of Christianity becomes 
a practical necessity for each generation." That magnificent 
synthesis of reason and Revelation, the Scholastic Theology, 
took for granted as fundamental certain postulates and first 
principles which are simply denied by the outsider to-day. 
Hence, as Father Tyrrell remarks, relatively to the needs of the 
modem mind, no point disputed in the Summa oi St. Thomas 
is of much consequence as compared with the assumptions on 
which it rests. Of course we may reply, so much the worse 
for the modern mind. If it rejects these bases, it condemns 
itself to a false start, with the result that the more rigorous 
and logical its methods the further must it diverge from truth. 
But are we to content ourselves with taking this hedge-hog 
attitude? Is not such a position equivalent to an unworthy 
admission that truth is no longer able to manifest itself effectu- 
ally; or, at least, that we are not the men able to hold up the 
divine lamp to shine in the darkness which does not compre- 
hend it? We cannot bring the modern mind back to the posi- 
tion which much of the philosophy of five hundred years ago 
supposed. If we are to have any influence on hostile thought, 
we must seek for some ground common to it and to ourselves. 
For, as Newman says, " I cannot convert men by means of 
assumptions which they refuse to grant; and without assump- 
tions I cannot prove anything about anything." 

JUDICIOUS CONSERVATISM. 

Now, the church by her very constitution is conservative, 
holding fast to the doctrine delivered to her in the beginning, 
guarding it against diminution or amalgamation with extraneous 



492 Progress in Theology. [Jan., 

material. Consequently the first duty of the theologian is con- 
servatism. He hears St. Paul addressing him in the person of 
Timothy : " Keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoid- 
ing the profane novelties of words, and oppositions of knowl- 
edge falsely so called." In case of doubt he recurs to the 
touchstone, Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus. 

But exaggeration is ever the danger besetting the human 
mind. Of all- the virtues charity alone is the one against which 
we cannot sin by contrary excess. In everything else, an ex- 
clusive preoccupation about avoiding one extreme may easily 
conduct us into the other. Divine truth is a living principle; 
the church is not an organism whose cycle of development and 
growth has already terminated in the rigidity and torpor of old 
age. Her mission is for all time. And the doctrine of which 
she is the custodian is capable of adapting itself to every con- 
dition and phase of human thought, yet, because it is infinite, 
it can be adequately and exhaustively apprehended by none. 
Shining on the generations of men, as the sun upon the cur- 
rent of a mighty river, it remains the same though its reflection 
varies with the changing moods of the passing waters. 

The spirit of conservatism would be carried too far, if it 
assumed that Divine truth was exhausted by the feeble and 
inadequate idea formed of it at a particular epoch. Some 
theologians, if we may believe our text books, have come very 
near the mistake of failing sufficiently to distinguish between 
the element which is all important, universal, unchangeable, 
and the other one — the forms which have been employed to 
adapt the transcendent, supernatural doctrine to special mental 
conditions. 

NEEDS OF THE DAY TO BE KEPT IN VIEW. 

Much of our theological or philosophical Apologetics has 
been formulated when the church reigned supreme over the 
European mind ; when great principles which are now con- 
troverted were accepted as indisputable. And the reverence for 
tradition has tended to stereotype the methods, programmes, 
and authors used in the teaching of theology. A rigid ad- 
herence to exemplars has tended to antagonize flexibility, and a 
due regard for proportion. Subjects which, at some past time, 
had special importance, on account of the position occupied by 
a then dominant error, still receive the same measure of atten- 



1903.] Progress in Theology, 493 

txon although the point of attack has shifted. This very de- 
votion to the past, when not intelligently regulated, defeats 
itself in one important point. The great masters of other days 
were careful to keep their eye on the needs of their times ; 
they spoke to their own age, in its own language, and therein 
chiefly lay the secret of their success. If we are to take them 
for our guides, we must imitate their method in this point, and 
neglecting what had but an occasional value, translate the en- 
during doctrine into language understood of our own times. 
Without disparagement to the objective value belonging to some 
subjects of theological thought around which centred the chief 
interest of other centuries, we, . painfully conscious of the short- 
ness of time, shall first study the subjects more important for 
our world. For every single follower of Paul of Samosata or^ 
Berengarius that we shall encounter, we shall meet with at least 
twenty disciples of Huxley and Spencer. To know accurately 
what the Church teaches with regard to the doctrines of Social- 
isni will be of much more practical value to you than the most 
profound mastery of the question : De Angelorum cognitione 
matutina et vespertina. To know what precisely St. Thomas 
held as to the distinction between essence and existence is of 
much less actual value than is an acquaintance with the exact 
position of modern Determinism. 

II. 

THE MODERN PHASE. 

The world in which we live is a world very different from 
those which have preceded it. The intellectual classes are 
largely hostile, or, what is perhaps worse, contemptuously in- 
different to Catholicism. Protestantism, Cartesianism and Kan- 
tianism, in strict logical as well as historical succession, have 
risen up, first against the authority of the church, next against 
the authority of Revelation, and the revolt has culminated 
in a distrust of reason itself. The rising tide of scepticism 
and rationalism has completely covered extensive tracts which 
till lately had been occupied by some form or another of 
dogmatic Christianity. Protestantism has been gradually empty- 
ing itself of all supernatural content. Various bodies are 
engaged in modifying their traditional confessions. And modifi- 

VOL. LXXVI. — 32 



494 Progress in Theology. [Jan., 

cation, here, is but a plausible word to cover surrender to in- 
fidelity. The atmosphere of unbelief, and the confusion of 
tongues which prevail around them, is not without effect on 
many of our own people. With increasing frequency the priest 
finds himself called upon, especially by- the* more educated of 
his flock, to clear up obscurities, and to remove the misgivings 
suggested by the literature of the day. 

Hence it becomes necessary for him to know what are these 
difficulties, and whence they arise. To understand them we 
must explore, with due discretion, and providing ourselves with 
the necessary antiseptics, the writers and schools that are the 
fountain-head of current unbelief. If we are to answer the 
arguments of the rationalist, we must know just what these 
arguments are, wherein lies their apparent strength and their 
innate weakness. Now, the system of Comte, for example, is 
not to be summed up in two or three lines of a text-book; 
Darwinism cannot be overwhelmed by a syllogism. An ac- 
quaintance with the position of the modern mind soon makes 
plain to us the fact that, however invincible our philosophy, 
many of its demonstrations, starting from postulates which the 
modern mind refuses to grant, are ineffectual as weapons against 
it. Again, how often, for example, in the Evolution contro- 
versy, — how often have the friends of religion brought ridicule 
on themselves by displaying a woful misapprehension of the 
Evolutionists* position ? The spectacle of a champion delivering 
crushing blows against a man of straw set up by himself is 
calculated to excuse the merriment of the real adversary who 
witnesses the exhibition. 

In a day when fundamentals are attacked the student who 
takes utility for his guide will wisely devote himself to those 
parts of theology — using the term broadly — which bear upon 
the living issues. He must, as Father Tyrrell says, enter into 
the intellectual life of his time, acquire the knowledge and 
understand the thoughts of his day, appropriate them to the 
illustration and expression of the faith, and address the intelli- 
gence of his time in its own language and its own presup- 
positions. 

SOME FAVORABLE ASPECTS. 

Although there are many deplorable features in modern life, 
it would argue but narrow judgment, and hardly a very strong 



1903.] Progress in Theology, 495 

confidence in God, to assume that all is unmitigated evil. 
Hand -in-hand with characteristics unfavorable to faith there are 
others which make for goodness. Great minds, like Bossuet, 
have analyzed the march d hum^ events in the past to 
show that underneath the superficial currents, the cross pur- 
poses, and the conscious efforts of nations and individuals, there 
lies a force, superior to man, a higher principle of co-ordina- 
tion steering the world to better things. The scientist like Mr. 
Kidd may terminate his investigations of this great fact by 
formulating a principle of ** Projected Efficiency." We go 
further, and recognize beyond the formula the presence of Divine 
Providence guiding all things wisely and inevitably to the end 
which his wisdom has fixed from the beginning. 

The devotion of the age to the physical sciences has fos- 
tered a bent of mind, inductive and positivist, which, unfriendly 
to the supernatural, and impatient of authority, has made the 
task of apologetics more difficult. Yet the same root which 
produces the poison, provides also an efficient antidote — Fas 
est et ab hoste doceri. The inductive and historical methods, 
which hold the place of honor in the intellectual world now, 
may be very fruitfully employed to correct and balance the 
one-sidedness of exclusively analytical procedures — and, to bor- 
row again from one whom I have already cited, the analyti- 
cal habit too exclusively cultivated helped to generate those 
abuses of Scholasticism which promoted not a little the coming 
of Protestantism, with modern unbelief in its train. Science has, 
unfortunately, been wrested to the propagation of infidelity. 
But we shall only aggravate the evil, if we on that account 
are indiscreet enough to treat Science with implacable hostility, 
or hold it up to the reprobation of the faithful. We shall 
make a great mistake if we hurl against it an undiscriminating 
anathema which confuses the uncontrovertible knowledge won 
by men who have scorned delights and lived laborious days, 
with the theories, speculations, and conjectures which alone are 
pernicious, and pernicious because they have been able, chiefly 
through the indiscreet zeal of orthodox writers, to invoke the 
prestige of Science in their favor. To be able to separate 
scientific knowledge from the speculations of the scientist de- 
mands an acquaintance with the writers in whose works both 
elements are mingled in perplexing confusion. 



496 Progress in Theology. [Jan., 

EXAMPLE OF ST. THOMAS. 

The example of St. Thomas ought to be our inspiration. 
When, in the hands of the church's enemies, Greek philosophy 
was turned against faith, narrower minds than those of Aquinas 
advocated the rejection of Aristotle altogether, as a foe to 
divine truth. Thomas, with a surer judgment, perceived that 
the rational truth won for mankind by the matchless genius of 
Greece could not but be a powerful help to faith, if it were 
brought to the support of Revelation. Since the days of St. 
Thomas the human mind has made immense progress in knowl- 
edge of every department of the physical universe. If St. 
Thomas could be born again, can anybody suppose that he would 
close his eyes to all the magnificent conquests of the intellect 
since the thirteenth century, and devote himself exclusively to 
the volumes which he pored over in the halls of Paris or the 
cloisters of Monte Cassino ? Would he not, on the contrary, 
surveying with enthusiastic delight the new realms of human 
knowledge, geology, archaeology, the reconstructions of the 
vanished civilizations, which, in hi$ time, were but so many 
hollow names, the secrets wrung by paleontology from Ibe 
dark backward and abysm of time, the mysteries of the ovum 
and the life cell, which the microscope has exposed to our 
astonished eye — would he not, thrilling with the love of God, 
plunge into all these realms, in order that he might once more 
synthesize the two streams of truth — Science and Revelation — 
and be able to interpret faith in the language of the age ? 

REACTION AGAINST UNBELIEF. 

While the influence of Kant has begotten in the modern 
mind a distrust of our objective demonstrations of the great 
basic truths of religion, it has proportionately exalted the great 
moral argument. And the very excesses of Agnosticism have 
brought men to see more clearly that unless we take the Chris- 
tian valuation, the dignity and importance of man disappear 
from a life that is no longer worth living. The exaltation of 
Positivism has already generated a reaction. The conviction is 
becoming general that, after all, man liveth not by science 
alone; that he is something more than an inductive logical 
machine; that the intellectual faculty is not commensurate with 
the human soul; that what is best and noblest in us are the 



1903.] Progress in Theology. 497 

aspirations after a good about which science knows nothing; 
and that to refuse to make an act of belief in certain truths 
which we can neither support by mathematical demonstration 
nor verify by experimental proof is at once intellectual suicide 
and the demolition of morality. Now« this frame of mind is 
one which offers an easy approach to Faith. 

Thousands of minds, distressed in the weary waste to which 
scepticism would condemn them, are not far from the dis- 
positions necessary to surrender to an infallible guide that, in 
place of an ever-changing maybe and perhaps, will speak to 
the tired and despondent inquirer in the tone of conscious 
authority. 

As Protestants see their ancient hulks crumbling into cureless 
decay they cling with desperation to the ethical element of 
Christ's teaching. Looking with wistful eyes towards the light- 
house on the everlasting rock, they only await the appearance 
of some kindly pilot to rescue them • and assure them that 
within the gates of the city of peace they will find no human 
tyranny interposing between them and God. To a generation 
which pays but little attention to dialectics, but which in its 
estimate of various religions is to a great extent guided by the 
principle Ex fructibus eorum cognoscetis eoSy we must be able 
to show the church in all her ethical beauty and her prolific 
holiness, yielding to none in her recognition of human brother- 
hood, and in her endeavors to abolish or mitigate the burdens 
that press so cruelly upon the masses of humanity. To become 
efficient representatives of the church we must have the intel- 
lectual equipment, and the sympathy necessary to put ourselves 
in touch with the world in which we live. We shall do but 
little if we spend our days in weeping by the waters of Baby- 
lon for glories and conditions that, in the providence of God, 
have suffered the doom of all things human. The Laudator 
tetnporis acti is usually a negligible quantity in the forces of his 
environment. The church needs, to-day, men who know, as 
knew all her apostles and defenders, how to interpret her to 
the world, men who, in the words of Father Tyrrell, "have at 
once a comprehensive grasp of the ' idea ' of Catholicism, and 
are possessed with its spirit, and who are, no less, in touch with 
the spirit of their own country and age, its strength and its 
weakness; who can understand and speak both languages, and 
recognizing unity of thought under diversity of expression can 



498 Progress in Theology. [Jan., 

translate from one into the other, interpreting the age to the 
church and the church to the age." 

THE FUTURE PROMISING. 

In no country more than in our own is there need for men 
of this stamp. In none so much as in our own do such men 
behold the future beckoning to them to enter upon a land of 
fair promise and splendid possibilities. 

It is scarcely exaggeration to say that to the great mass of 
outsiders the church is as much of an enigma as she was to 
the Rome of Nero. If there is one theological subject which 
more than another the priest is here called upon to be familiar 
with, in order to dissipate the clouds of prejudice, it is the re- 
lation of conscience and authority. For in that false concep- 
tion of Catholicity, the notion which above all others is 
most fruitful of distrust is that religious authority is the foe 
and oppressor of the individual conscience. And let me recom- 
mend you to reflect whether in any of your text books of 
moral theology you will find this matter treated exhaustively 
and comprehensively. 

A kindred prejudice that is to be removed is that the 
Catholic Church is an alien institution. To a people intensely 
conscious of national individuality, the church is misrepresented 
as a foreign monarchy, her fate inextricably linked with the 
fortunes of races whose political ideals are in conflict with 
the triumphant spirit of democracy symbolized by the country's 
flag. This false impression is to be met by insisting that the 
Catholic Church is the Catholic Church, universal in her spirit^ 
the appanage of no class, of no race; that she is desig^ned not 
for some particular place or transitory environment, but for all 
time and every place. How often have we found her oppo- 
nents seeking comfort in the fiction that the decadence of the 
Latin races marks the approaching downfall of Catholicism. 
Recent events, indeed, have helped to shake confidence in this 
opinion. Still it is wide-spread. But, as Mgr. Lorinzelli said, 
when, a few weeks ago, in France, he was addressing an audi* 
ence similar in character to the one which has done me the 
honor of listening so patiently this evening: "We must not 
nationalize the spirit of Christ, for Christ is come for all ; . . . 
it is not race, it. is not blood which makes the sons of God." 

It is true that at different epochs God has honored different 



1903.] Progress iN Theology, 499 

races and peoples by choosing them to be instruments in his 
hands for the spread and protection of the church. The Roman 
Empire was her pioneer; the rSles of Constantine and Charle- 
magne stand out in history so that he who runs may read. 
The Gesta Dei per Francos is one of the most splendid pages 
in the volume which records the church's struggles and triumphs. 
But God is not dependent on the tools which he uses. From 
the stones he can raise up children unto Abraham. When in 
the succession of human events new conditions came about, 
when ancient polities had fulfilled their functions and exchanged 
the vigor of youth for the decrepitude of age, He who said to 
Cyrus, Thou art my shepherd, knew how to make the rising 
influences serve His purpose not less efficaciously than those 
whose star had set. 

We are told, to-day, that the axis of the political, social, 
and economic forces of the world is shifting with unexampled 
rapidity. Statesmen, financiers, soldiers, publicists of every 
type, are discussing, some in consternation, others with hopeful 
confidence, the sudden spring of America into the vanguard of 
the nations. In this juncture are we to believe that the rule of 
universal history shall not hold, and that for the first time a 
new phase of the world's development means nothing for reli- 
gfion ? Are we not rather prompted by the present prospect to 
exercise a little retrospection upon the rise of Catholicism in this 
land ? And that retrospection leads us to the conviction " Digitus 
Dei est hie." The finger of God has been here, as is His wont, 
preparing His instruments from afar for events and crises, long 
before these events had . entered- the field* of human - vision. The 
older nations have given of their best, both natural and super- 
natural, to create a young and vigorous people inheriting the 
promise of the future. The Puritan, with all his narrowness, 
contributed the principles of democracy in which an intense love 
of liberty is blended with a profound respect for law. Spain 
and France sent their early missionaries. With the Catholic 
spirit of France and Spain, the intolerance of Protestant England 
depopulating Ireland, worked hand-and-hand to build up here 
a strong, devout Catholicism, yielding to none in its devotion 
to the faith. France again increased America's debt of gratitude 
by sending her, for the training of her priests, the sons of St. 
Sulpice who, to all the virtues which it is needless to enumer- 
ate, know how to join an unimpeachable conservatism with 



500 PROGRESS IN THEOLOGY. [Jan., 

enlightened appreciation of contemporary needs. Who can ex- 
amine the past and look out upon the future without being 
convinced that the influence of America in the coming years is 
to be of vast moment for the entire church 7 Already we have 
an earnest of the things that are to come. America has lately 
taken possession of lands that for ages were in the complete 
con trol of a Catholic state. The condition of affairs in these 
regions bore eloquent witness to the truth that, owing to the 
imperfections of our common humanity, the most beautiful of 
ideals, when reduced to practice, do not always realize the per- 
fection of their theory. Now, where the influence of America 
was able to be promptly established — I mean in Porto Rico — a 
new vigor has sprung up in the religious life of the people, 
who bless the day which presented to them their priests of 
God unshackled by the livery of Cxsar. And there is every 
ground for confidence that what has occurred here is but the 
first-fruits of a wider harvest to ripen in God's good time. 

These reflections, however meagrely iidicated, are, for every 
serious- mind in the ranks of the American clergy, fraught with 
suggestion ; powerful as stimulants to our zeal and industry ; 
serious from the light in which they show us our responsibility 
to our country, to our Church, and to God. 



1903.] THE MOTHER'S FOREBODING. 



©HE CQOIPHBI^'S For^BBODING. 

BY SUSAN L. EMERY. 
I. 

N my Galilean home 
>in and pray, and pray and spin : 
pretty doves, as white as foam, 
day fly out and in. 

II. 
He came and stood beside my knee, — 
My Love, my Dove, my little Son ; 
Pitying, held out His hand to me. 

And lo ! there lay thereon 

III. 
A little, foam-white, wounded dove. 

Ah ! swiftly sprang my burning tears ! 
I tried to stay my grief, dear Love ! 

To quell my anguished fears. 

IV. 
But suddenly I seemed to see. 

Against the far Judean sky, 
Stand, stark and tall, a dreadful tree, 

Whereon my Dove must die. 



"Weep not!" He said. "It is not dead. 
For thy sweet sake its wounds I heal," 

It soared and sang. Uncomforted, 
I wept beside my wheel. 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE OF THE PASSIONIST FATHERS. 

FIFTY YEARS IN THE UNITED STATES. 
BV A PASSIONIST FATHER. 

LIST at this time the PassionJst Fathers are cele- 
brating the Golden Jubilee of the Order in Ameri- 
ca. The festivities commemorative of the event 
are being held in the Church of St Paul of the 
Cross, Pittsburg, S.S., Pa., on the spot where the 
work of the Order in this country began fifty years ago. The 
Jubilee suggests the following notice of the Order and of its 
work in America. 

The Order was founded by Paul Francis Danei, or St. Paul 
of the Cross. He was born of noble parentage at Ovada, 
Piedmont, Italy, on January 3, 1694. From childhood he had 
but one thought, and that was of our Lord's sacred Passion. 



«903 ] Golden Jubilee of the Passionists. 503 

In early youth this led him to serve in the Venetian army 
against the Turks — the g^eat enemies of the Cross. But a silent 
whisper came from above^ that left behind it an undefined 
longing for something higher and holier. For him greater ene- 
mies of the Cross and nobler conquests were in reserve. He 
left the army. With his brother, John Baptist Danei, he retired 
to a small sanctuary of Our Lady on Monte Argentaro, over- 
looking the blue Mediterranean, near by the little City of Orbi- 
tello, and there in prayer and penance he prepared for his 
mission in the church. In vision, he had once beheld Our 
Blessed Lady clothed in the garb now worn by the Passionists — 
a black robe, with a heart attached. The heart is white, and 
in the centre the name of Jesus and the characters of the Pas- 
sion are inscribed. Paul was told that the garment was one of 
mourning for the death of our Lord, and that the white heart 
indicated how pure the heart should be to have written upon 
it the name of Jesus and the characters of his sacred Passion. 

Now he trusted that the time had come when, with the 
approval of the highest authority on earth, he might begin his 
life-work of enkindling and reviving in the hearts of others the 
devotion that burned so brightly in his own. He left his soli- 
tude and journeyed to Rome in order to throw himself at the 
feet of the Vicar of Christ, and beg his blessing and approba- 
tion. With naive simplicity he approached the portals of the 
Vatican and asked to see the Holy Father. The official whom 
he chanced to meet looked at him in his strange garb and said : 
Sapete qtuinti birbi capitatw tutto gUrno f Andate^ Andate ! '* Do 
you know how many rogues come around here every day ? Be 
off with you ! " He made no answer, but meekly went his way. 
He then reflected upon what had transpired, and thought he 
had been treated as he deserved, and he remembered One who 
on earth was ** despised and the most abject of men," and he 
felt strangely happy. God' s time was not yet. So Paul re- 
turned to the holy mount whence he had come. 

In the sixteenth century, under the plea of reformation, 
certain restless spirits sought to destroy the church by attack- 
ing the divine element in her. They set up private opinion 
against the authority of the Holy Ghost. But they were beaten 
back by St. Ignatius and his illustrious society. Now the 
Reformers sought to gain their ends by glossing a faith which 
they could not destroy. They took down the image of the 



504 



Golden jubilee of the Passionists, 



[Jan., 

Crucified from the cross; they- concealed his eloquent wounds; 
they hid the thorns that hedge the narrow way which leads to 
life; they strewed with flowers a new path of their own. 
"Christ," they said, "hath died, the Just for the unjust; and 

that is enough ! 
He has done all, 
and nothing is 
left for us but to 
enjoy the liberty 
of the sons of God I 
Pecca fortiter : sed 
crede forliui / No 
more abasement, 
no more penance ; 
no more crucifix- 
ion of the flesh. 
Away with the 
Cross ! It is all 
folly ! Christ suf- 
fered for us, not 
leaving us an ex- 
ample ; there is no 
need that we fol- 
low in his foot- 
steps ; only be- 
lieve ! " This se- 
ductive doctrine 
spread like wild- 
fire. But as Igna- 
tius and his sons 
met the first at- 
tack, so did Paul 
- and his sons stem 
Father Authony. the First Superior of Pittsbubg Hoose. the onward cur- 
rent. 
TTie gloss of the Reformation gave place to the £crases 
I'infame of the Revolution. But the church, divine in her re- 
sources, was prepared for this too. Paul of the Cross was born 
the same year as Voltaire. Their lives for nearly eighty years 
ran parallel. Voltaire's aim was derision of the Cross ; Paul's 
exaltation of the Cross. To one the Cross was folly ; to the 



1903.] Golden Jubilee of the Passionists. 505 

other it was the power and the wisdom of God. The one 
hated the sacred Humanity of Christ; the other loved it to in- 
tensity. Paul was a saint; Voltaire, a demon incarnate. The 
one led his followers to materialism ; the other to a life of faith 4 
and purity. In his mountain solitude Paul was silently prepar- • 
ing for his mission in the church. 

Well, thirty years have passed. He returns one morning to 
the Vatican, Now a- priest and missionary-apostolic, he carries 
next his heart the rules which he had written. This time he 
is graciously received. The rules are. approved, and again and 
again confirmed by the occupant of the Chair of Peter. Thirty 
years more have come and goae. The reigning Pope leaves the 
Vatican and proceeds to the Basilica of Sts. John and Paul on 
the Coelian Hill. He mounts the stairs, and enters the little room, 
hard by with the old bell towers overhead. The Pope has 
come to see Father Paul of the Cross — that poor youth long 
ago driven away from the Vatican, but now old and feeble, 
revered and loved by all Rome as a saint. St. Paul of the Cross, 
the first Passionist Father 1 Simple as a child, loving as a 
mother ; uniting in his tharacter the sweetness of St. Francis 
de Sales and the austerity of St. Francis of Assisi. The rebuke 
of his life is like a flaming scourge in our age. Still, he makes 
virtue charmingly attractive and wins the hearts of men to God 
and the Church. 

Through a strange inspiration, during fifty years he had 
prayed for the conversion of England ; and he declared that, if 
he would, he could not help doing so; for as soon as he com- 
menced his prayer that unhappy country came before him. 
" For fifty years," he exclaimed, " I have prayed for England's 
conversion. Every morning in the Holy Mass I do this. 
What may be God's designs concerning the unfortunate country 
I know not. Perhaps, he may yet have mercy on it, and the 
" day may come when he, in his goodness, will bring it to the 
true faith." God consoled his servant by lifting the veil of the 
future, and allowing him to see his sons in benighted England 
giving missions to non- Catholics. One morning, after Mass, he 
said, with radiant countenance : '' Oh, what have I seen ? My 
children in England ! " Yes, they have labored in England and 
they have reconciled hundreds of thousands to the church. 
Among the number was one whose secession was afterwards 
described by Lord Beaconsfield as ^'a blow under which the 



5o6 Golden Jubilee of the passionists. [Jan., 



IMTEKIOR Of St. Paul's Church, Pittsburg. 

Church of England still reels." It was the great Newman ; and 

the souls who owe their conversion to his influence throw an 

I additional lustre on the work of St. Paul of the Cross. 

I Providence had been preparing the way for the extension of 

' this work. In 1839 the Most Rev. Father Anthony of St. 

I Jatnss was elected General of the Order. He was a man of 

t broad and comprehensive views, and no less remarkable for his 

[ wisdom than for his extensive scholarship. He was revered for 

I his holy life, and the cardinals in Rome called him "the 

I second Founder"; for it was he who carried out the designs 

of St. Paul of the Cross in extending the usefulness of the 

order in the church, thus accomplishing its mission. By Papal 

dispensation, he was elected general for four consecutive terms. 

He was one of the spiritual directors to the conclave that 

, elected Pius IX., and the close friendship of the Pontiff and 

the General dated from this epoch. 

'< John Mastai Ferretti, when a youth, had applied to a former 

general of the Passionists for admission into the order. Owing 

'■ to delicate health at the time, it was not deemed prudent to 

accede to his request. Providence destined him to fill the 



1903] Golden Jubilee of the passionists. 507 

Papal chair and to canoAize St. Paul of the Cross. It was he 
who blessed and seconded the plans of Father Anthony of 
St. James. He it was who presented the Scala Sancta to the 
Passionists, and erected beside it, at his own expense, an inter- 
national college for the order, wherein its yotmg men may re- 
ceive a most thorough training for their apostolate in the church. 

The general had been lector of theology. He had formed 
the characters of many of the youths of the order and equipped 
them for their work. He knew his men. In 1840 he called 
Father Dominic of the Mother of God to Rome, and told him 
to proceed to Belgium, there to found a house of the order. 
It had been revealed to the latter that he would go to England 
and labor for its return to the church, and now, after long years 
of prayer and waiting, he felt that the prophetic intimation he 
had received froiQ Our Blessed Lady was about to be realized. 
This extraordinary man at first was not among the fathers 
chosen for the Belgian mission. But at the last moment the 
leader of the little band was assigned to another post, and 
Father Dominic was chosen to replace him. Before leaving the 
Eternal City, he knelt at the shrine of St. Paul of the Cross 
and, with tears, begged that he might bring about the Saint's 
prophetic vision — of his children laboring for the conversion of 
England. His prayer was granted. Belgium became the base 
of operations for England. 

Catholic Emancipation had been wrung from England by 
the dauntless O'Connell. A marvellous awakening of Catholic 
life in that country had followed, and concurrently came the 
Oxford Movement. About this time Cardinal Wiseman, then 
Vicar- Apostolic of London, asked for a colony of Passionists 
for England, and in 1842 Father Dominic made a beginning at 
Aston Hall, in Staffordshire. It was here, on September 29, 
1845, that he received into the church Mr. Dalgairns, the first 
of the little community at Littlemore. They had corresponded 
before Father Dominic left Belgium. The occasion of this was 
a reply of Father Dominic's to a letter of Mr. Dalgairns which 
had appeared in the Univers. Besides, Father Dominic had 
once visited Dalgairns at Littlemore. Now, on one of his mis- 
sionary tours, at the invitation of Dr. Newman, he made a 
second visit. He arrived at Oxford late on October 9, 1845. 
He had ridden outside on a crowded coach, and was drenched 
with rain. Mr. Dalgairns and another member of the community 



5o8 Golden Jubilee of the Passionists. [Jan., 

met him and conducted him to Littlemore. He reached his 
destination at 1 1 o'clock at night, and went to the fire to dry 
his clothes. While doing so. Dr. Newman, Messrs. Bowels and 
Stanton, entered. They knelt to receive Father Dominic's 
blessing, and then asked him to admit them into the One, 
Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. They confessed to him, 

and twohoursaf^er 
midnight they 
were received into 
the church. In 
the morning 
Father Dominic 
offered Mass for 
them and gave 
them Holy Com- 
munion. In a let- 
ter, dated October 
9, Dr. Newm'an 
wrote: "I am this 
night expecting 
Father Dominic, 
the Passionist. He 
is a simple, holy 
man, and. withal 
gifted with re- 
markable powers. 
He does not know 
my intention; but 
I mean to ask of 
himadmissioninto 
the one fold of 

' Christ." Verily 

Father Stanislaus Pebf.kki. SuPF.nrojt o? St. ... .. . 

MICHAELS, P.TTSBURO. ^^'^ ^^s the bcgm- 

ning of the exo* 
dus from Anglicanism to "the one fold of Christ"; the vision 
of St. Paul of the Cross was realized and his prayer of fifty 
years was heard ! The next year Dr. Newman was ordained in 
Rome, and he celebrated a Mass of thanksgiving at the tomb 
of St. Paul of the Cross, in the Basilica of Sts. John and Paul. 
" England's eldest daughter beyond the sea " came within 
the range of the prayer and of the charity of St. Paul of the 



190J.] Golden Jubilee of the Passionists. 



HoLV Ckoss Monastery, Cincinnati. 
Crosi. So thought Pius IX. and Father Anthony of St. James, 
the General of the Order. The work of the fathers in England 
had been closely watched by Rome, and their success had 
paved the way for a venture in America. Here, too, they were 
destined to bring many souls to " the one fold of Christ." 
This was brought about by the Right Rev. Michael O'Connor, 
first Bishop of Pittsbui^, Pa. He did for the New World what 
Cardinal Wiseman had done for England. 

Dr. O'Connor was educated at the Propaganda in Rome. 
He was one of the brightest of a galaxy of bright men then at 
the Propaganda. Among them were Paul Cullen, Francis Patrick 
Kenrick, Martin John Spalding, John MacHale, and Hassoun. 
After nine years on the mission in his native land, Ireland, Dr. 
O'Connor returned to Rome to become a Jesuit. Gregory 
XVI. said to him : " You will be a Bishop first and a Jesuit 
afterward " ; and this Pontiff appointed him Bishop of Pitts- 
burg. 

In 1852 Bishop O'Connor again visited Rome. He asked 

VOL, LXXVl, — 33 



5IO Golden jubilee of the Passionists, [Jan., 

. the Father General of the Passionists to give him a colony to 
establish a house of the order in his far-off diocese. The gen- 
eral readily acceded to his request, and selected Fathers Anthony 
Calandri, Albinus Magno, Stanislaus Perezki, and Brother Law- 
rence for this mission. The bishop most kindly offered to de- 
fray the expenses of the expedition, and to keep the fathers in 
his own home till they had learned the language and become 
acquainted with the genius of the American. people. Further- 
more, he proffered them every assistance in erecting a house 
and church in his diocese, as their rule required. 

On their side, the fathers bound themselves to assist the 
bishop to the utmost of their power in advancing the interests 
of religion in his diocese, and while not confining their aposto- 
late to Pittsburg, they were always to give the bishop preference 

. in their work. The day on which this agreement was negotiated 

. between Bishop O'Connor and the Father General, .Pius IX., in 
the Sixtine Chapel, declared Father Paul of the Cross blessed. 

. The bishop and his little band were received most graciously 
by the Holy Father, who addressed them in words of great 
kindness, and from his heart blessed the undertaking. They 
left Rome on October lo. At Lyons and Paris the fathers re- 
ceived generous hospitality from the Christian Brothers. In 
London they were met by Father Ignatius of St. Paul — the 
Honorable George Spencer; and while the bishop crossed over 
to Dublin in order to confer the pallium on Archbishop Cullen, 
the fathers remained with their own brethren. On October 27 
they sailed from Liverpool on the City of Glasgow, They 
landed in Philadelphia on November 14, and reached Pittsburg 
on the 19th of the same month in the year 1852. 

Father Stanislaus, though a Pole, spoke German well, and 
the bishop placed him at once in charge of St. Michael's con- 
gregation, in the South Side, or Birmingham, as it was then 
called. The other fathers he kept with himself. On the hill- 
top, high above St. Michael's Church, the bishop gave the 
fathers the site on Which their monastery and church are 
built The corner-stone of the new monastery was laid August 
7, 1853, and the monastery dedicated June 4 of the following 
year. The bishop's hopes were at last fulfilled. He had brought 
the Passionists to America; he had taught them the language 
and ways of the country ; he had given them the ground on 
which to build; he had blessed and furnished their new home; 



1903.] Golden jubilee of the passionists. 511 

he had been their friend and adviser; and the grateful tribute 
of Father Anthony, the first superior, to the bishop on this 
occasion was touchingly beautiful. The fathers labored not only 
in conducting missions and retreats, but in every department 
of priestly work and in every portion of the diocese, to prove 
their profound appreciation of the kindness of their great friend 
and benefactor, the bishop. 

A few weeks after the opening of the new monastery. 
Fathers' Dominic Tarlatini and Luke BaudJnelli, with Brother 
Jerome, arrived from the Eternal City and joined the little 
band. Their coming was most opportune, as cholera had broken 
out in the city of 
Pittsburg and the 
services of the 
fathers were much 
needed in attend- 
ing the plague- 
stricken. Father 
Dominic replaced 
Father Anthony 
as superior, and 
the latter now de- 
voted all his time 
and energy to the 
poor who were 
taken down with 
the dreaded 
scourge. In less 
than a year Father 
Luke had master- 
ed the German 
language and was 
made assistant to 
Father Stanislaus. ^ 
In 185s Father 

Gaudentius Rossi Fathi« Albinus, a not«d Passionist Missionary. 

came from England, where he had labored for fourteen years. 
He was a notable accession to the Pittsburg community, as he 
spoke English fluently. From this date the fathers began to 
give missions and retreats throughout the country. The monas- 
tery was enlarged by Father Dominic, and in 1858 a diocesan 



GOLDEN JUBILEE OF THE PASSIONISTS. [Jan., 



St. Joseph's Monasterv, Baltihokb. 

synod was held, and two retreats to the clergy ot the diocese 
given within its walls. The corner-stone of the Church of St. 
Paul of the Cross was laid this year and the church was dedi- 
cated December 13, 1859. About this time Father James 
Hoffznott Welch, and somewhat later on Fathers John Thomas 
Steffanini and John Baptist Baudinelli, arrived from Rome. 
They may be said to have completed the band of associate 
founders in America, though subsequently other accessions of 
good men came from Italy ; such as, Father Victor, Fathers 
Guido Matassi and John Philip Baudinelli, who did noble work 
in the United States. But the order was well established when 
they came. Several Americans had been professed in the order. 
A number of bright young men were preparing for the priest- 
hood ; some in Rome, others in this country. In i860, just 
before the resigning of his sec, Bishop O'Connor ordained the 
first Passionists in America. The bond of affection and friend- 
ship between the bishop and the fathers had been growing closer 
and closer ; and had his health permitted, he would have be- 
come a Passionist himself. As Father Dominic would not hear 



I903-] Golden Jubilee of the passionists. 513 

of this, the bishop returned to his first love and became a Jesuit' 
thus verifying the prediction of Gregory XVI. : " You will be- 
come a bishop first and a Jesuit afterward." 

The founders of the order in America had been formed by 
a master-hand. They were men of God; they were intensely 
devoted to their blessed Father, Paul of the Cross. Like him, 
they blended in their characters the sweetness of St. Francis 
de Sales with much of the austerity of St. Francis of Assisi. 
They awakened in the American heart a passion of enthusiasm 
for their saintly Founder and his work. They held to his rule 
and spirit with uncompromising firmness, and yet they were all 
things to all men. They identified themselves with the coun- 
try ; they were one with its people; and with rare humility 
and kindly grace, they chose for themselves the last place> 
when they had trained good men to fill the first. 

The order grew 
with astonishing 
rapidity, and peo- 
ple marvelled at 
this foreign plant 
attaining to native 
growth in Ameri- 
can soil. But this 
simply verified the 
saying of Benedict 
XIV, in giving it 
his sovereign ap- 
proval: "It is the 
last order in the 
church, but it 
might have been 
the first" ; for its 
rule and spirit are 
adapted to all 
times and to every 
clime. These men 
enshrined them- 
selves in the hearts 
of all. Tliey have 
left after them 
sacred memories fathkk jouh baudinelu. 



5 14 Golden Jubilee of the Passionists. [Jan., 

which endear them to us, and now, with grateful hearts, we re- 
call them and declare them blessed. Two alone remain, Father 
Guido and the Very Rev. Father John Baptist Baudinelli. 
In 1899 the latter was recalled to Rome to represent the 
American Province as second consultor general. He returned 
to America to preside, in the father general's name, at the 
chapter held last August in Pittsburg, and he is still in the 
country to be present at the Golden Jubilee of the Order in 
America. 

Since the foundation made in Pittsburg, fifty years ago, 
houses have been established in Dunkirk, N. Y.; West Ho- 
boken, N. J.; Baltimore, Md.; Cincinnati, Ohio ; Louisville, 
Ky.; St. Louis, Mo.; St. Paul, Kas.; and recently in Scranton, 
Pa. In these houses the rule is observed as strictly as in 
Rome itself, and this is done notwithstanding the great demand 
for the services of the fathers. That little band of men from 
Italy, without friends, without funds, and without influence, 
save that of the illustrious bishop who brought them hither; 
these men entirely unacquainted with the language and ways 
of the country, but with magnificent faith and boundless trust 
in the good providence of God ; these simple, kindly, unassum- 
ing men, began their work fifty years ago, — and how well and 
wisely they builded, fifty years of achievement bears ample 
testimony. To be sure, they were highly favored by the ex- 
cellent prelates who invited them to locate in their dioceses; 
such as the venerable Bishop Timon, Bishop Bayley, Arch- 
bishop Spalding, Archbishop Purcell, Bishop McCloskey, Arch- 
bishop Peter Richard Kenrick, Bishop Fink, Bishop Hennessy, 
and Bishop Hoban. Special mention must be made of the 
present Cardinal- Archbishop of Baltimore, through whose un- 
failing kindness they were enabled, when St. Joseph's Retreat 
was destroyed by fire, to erect the superb buildings which now 
are an ornament to the Monumental City. But still what these 
men accomplished is simply astounding. 

It may be said that these fathers began the work of ** home 
missions " in America ; and what is more remarkable, missions 
to non-Catholics. In Boston, for instance, as early as 1862, 
after a mission to the Catholic people of St. Joseph's parish, a 
week's mission was given by Father Gaudentius to non- 
Catholics. Hence, when the Paulist Fathers inaugurated this 
good work on its present lines, the Passionists were in full 



1903.] Golden jubilee of the Passionists. 



sympathy with them. Devotion to our Lord's Sacred Passion 
is the great feature of the work of the order, and the secret 
of its success in the missionary field. Not as a mere senti- 
ment, but in its practical application to the duties and relations 
of every-day life, its lessons for the mind, for the heart, for the 
whole career of man. Through the prayer of their sainted 
Founder, the Fassionist Fathers seem to have a special bless- 
ing attached to their missionary work, not only in England 
but in our own beloved land. May this work go on increasing 
to the end, ever assuming proportions more magnificent to the 
glory of God and the honor of his church, proving ever more 
the efficacy of the prayer of St. Paul of the Cross ! 



5i6 The Joy of Mary. [Jan. 




She gJoy op (Qaf^y. 

BY CHARLES HANSON TOWNE. 

HIS was your joy, O Mary ! — 
To suffer for your little Son, 
To falter through the Bethlehem street, 
And, travail-worn, press on 
Toward that far inn where you might win 
Rest till the distant dawn. 

This was your joy, O Mother ! — 

To sorrow for His little sake. 
To linger ever at His side. 

Though He should sleep or wake, 
And in the dim, dark days, for Him 

Bid your sweet heart to break ! 

This was your joy, O Mary ! — 

To hover o'er His little bed. 
And with your mother- eyes look down 

Upon His pillowed head, 
And softly kiss with tender bliss 

His tiny lips of red. 

This was your joy, O Mother ! — 

To bear the bitter part, 
That you with Him might share His days 

And feel such sad tears start; 
That you might go His way and know 

The anguish of His heart ! 



&•» 








<50Y6B qIOSSBLYN, SINNEF^, 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part III. 

A T THE TURN OF MA TURITY. 




CHAPTER IV. 

WOMAN, — AND MOTHER. 

lEANTIME, the invasion of the Josselyn domicile 
by the fashionable young widow, effective in the 
latest French creation of black and white, was as 
the flash of a meteor to prosaic earth. To Mrs. 
Josselyn, who had answered Imogen's knock, the 
unexpected vision of chic feminine beauty was naturally less 
bewildering than to her husband; yet Hiram Josselyn's stare 
was not admiring only, though admiration of "a fine figure of 
a woman " was amusingly evident in it. It recognized the relict 
of James Raymond of Carruthdale and California, who had left 
his son Joyce ten thousand dollars ; it was suspicious of mer- 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Josselyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
(ann-Ufe, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubT)om fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carruth. 

Chapter H. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
in. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Carruthdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. CasUeton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic west. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Raymond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter g;ives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived m San Francisco, Jovce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pending 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Phneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life, and 
then comes the great strus^gle with temptation. Womanhood has lost something of its spiri- 
tual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into a scheme of stock gambling. Stephen en- 
gages in social work, and tastes some of the higher things of life. He meets Gladys after the 
promised year's delay. 



Si8 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Jan., 

cenary reasons for her appearance in Maintown ; and with the 
habit of soliloquy often developed by morose natures, it be- 
trayed itself by audible expression ! 

" It *s the widow," he exclaimed, unconsciously. " She 's on 
the track' of that ten thousand dollars ! Well, there ain't one 
cent of it here ! " 

" Hiram Josselyn^^ interposed Joyce's mother, in a voice of 
doom, "/ want to speak to you in the other rootn^ this very 
minute ! " 

More than ordinarily meek and submissive in his present 
uneasy doubt as to the financial invulnerability of a father 
whose son might be sued for ten thousand dollars, Hiram 
allowed himself to be inveigled into a matrimonial tite-a-tete^ to 
which he contributed wrath, and Mrs. Josselyn, warning! 

" To antagonize Mrs. Raymond by the crude introduction of 
a delicate subject, meant dire disaster to their son Joyce \ 
Would Hiram Josselyn be advised, and wise in the generation 
of his better- half?" 

The indignant Hiram, uncertain as to whether he would or 
not, sulked and growled, yet submitted to divers becoming 
changes in his careless toilette. A widow worth millions must 
be conciliated. Yet, oh what fools these women be! 

•' Is it Imogen in the flesh ? " Father Martin, meanwhile, was 
demanding incredulously. He could not believe the testimony 
of his eyes. He thought her a wraith — an illusion. 

Imogen glanced about for a straight- backed chair, the deep 
rocker pressed upon her by masculine ignorance being a rack 
for her fashion-plate figure. 

" I deny the flesh," she pouted ; sensitive on the point of 
increasing avoirdupois. '' But Gladys and Mam'selle are at the 
rectory, yes! How cruel of you to spoil my surprise." 

'' /am as pleasantly surprised as you could wish; and at the 
rectory, I fancy the surprise of Gladys suffices for Stephen. 
Be seated, Imogen, and leave our young friends to themselves* 
Mam'selle will be at peace in my church ! " 

" Sans doute,'' mimicked Imogen, with a derisive moue at 
which Father Martin failed to smile. " The good Mam'selle's 
affinity for church has been intensified by protracted Roman 
fever ! " 

As the glow of forced vivacity faded out of her face, the 
priest's keen eyes noted that, in spite of her effect of brilliant 



I903-] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 519 

beauty, Imogen was looking, in truth, neither her brightest nor 
happiest. Restlessness and discontent marked her face and 
manner. Fine lines prematurely traced above her feverishly 
lustrous eyes, shadows semicircling both them and her petulant 
mouth, a pallor inevident save as suggested by too evident 
high- lights of delicately applied rouge, indicated either dimin- 
ished vitality, or the strain of an unpeaceful spirit. In fact, an 
unhygienic habit contracted in the stress of her uncongenial 
marriage, was marring her young beauty with its inevitable 
traces. In her husband's life-time as well as in his death, nar- 
cotics had been her Lethe for unwelcome night- thought; and 
only her maid Marie knew how significantly, in the stress of 
her widowhood, the insidious habit of opiates had gained upon 
her. 

"Well, Martin, and how have you been, — you, and the as- 
piring Stephen ? " she inquired, ill at ease under his piercing 
scrutiny. 

" Happy. And you ? " 

"Not happy enough to be unhappy; the deadly middle- 
state, you know; the monotonous level. Yet we have had our 
little experiences, we three ; ah, yes ! Mam'selle's wings, of 
course, grew apace in the atmosphere of the Vatican. Gladys 
returns as she went, — an untitled American. As for me, the 
incomprehensible, the incredible has happened ! I tired, actually 
tired, of Europe ! " 

" Ah ? Has Gladys* Americanism, then, proved contagious ? '* 

" No ; but the habit of ennui proves ineradicable. I am 
tired of all things, — tired, — tired ! By the way, how considerate 
of our host and hostess to efface themselves, that I may make 
my confession in private." 

" Shall I recall them ? " 

" As you love me, no ! Let me enjoy the brief respite the 
kind gods grant. It is a sensation to talk to you, — and sensa- 
tion is everything. The familiar, the monotonous, was the stain 
on the foreign 'scutcheon for me. Fancy the mood seducing a 
good American into criticism and resistance of — Europe ! " 

" Better late than never a patriot, my cousin ! " 

*' Patriotism ? Pooh ! Patriotism is only an acquired virtue. 
The primeval vice of naturalism explains me better ! I craved 
something old royalty, old nobility, old society, could not give 
me. You would be shocked if I told you — what ! " 



S20 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Jan., 

"Yet tell me, Imogen." 

"The young laughter I have never laughed, — ^the young 
love I have never known, — love in April's light mood, full of 
sunshine and shadows: — the thrill of young ambition, unattained 
and therefore unsatiated; the spell of young dreams, — not ma- 
ture realities ! Did you ever realize that I had no youth, 
Martin ? My mother was old, — Carruthdale was old, — Uncle 
Martin was old, — and you — you had only the youth of years ! 
You censured my young soul, — ^and repulsed my young heart! 
My husband was old,— old and heavy and solemn. And youth 
in all save the letter is an anachronism in the smart set. Yet 
social life once distracted me, — ^but I have outgrown distrac* 
tions I They, like all seasoned sweets, have palled." 

" What has inspired your revolt ! " 

" The despairing realization that I had exhausted the woman's 
gamut. The girl anticipates wifehood, — the wife has her career, 
her advancing ambitions. But the widow has drained the last 
drop of all things. When I realized that nothing new, nothing 
untried, lay before me, I looked back — to the cup of youth, — 
missed by my girlhood ! Then Joyce Josselyn's letters suggested 
that the divine elixir still obtains in America! They were so 
inspiringly, so immortally — young ! " 

" Imogen ! " exclaimed Father Martin, startled by a sudden 
vision of danger. 

" Do not exhort me to-night ! I am in a mood to defy 
you ! To come late into one's own is a reckless experience ! 
The New World, the young West, are hereafter my destiny \ 
Martin, speed my search for the Fountain of Youth, Columbia's 
'Nuova Vita!''' 

With an apologetic " Ahem ! " Mrs. Josselyn re-entered the 
room, hospitably laden with a tray displaying cake and cider. 
Her husband limped after her, empty-handed and frowning. 
Caudle-lectures did not harmonize with his autocratic convictions ; 
yet to-night inferior woman was in the ascendant, by grace of 
the widow's jointure. Mrs. Raymond averted her fastidious 
eyes from his impossible personality ; but Joyce's mother, even 
though she was passing a plate of home-made cookies, and had 
composedly retained her ample white apron, was not a person 
to be ignored, as Imogen " sensed " in every feminine fibre. 
The woman of the world, insolent, disdainful, coldly haughty, 
yet cowered under the faded blue eye to which maternity had 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 521 

given insight. In truth, Mrs. Josselyn was thinking many 
thoughts not revealed. This young widow, when a wife, had 
been Joyce's patron at Centreville college;, his friend at Car- 
ruthdale ! She had lost a modest fortune by him without a 
protest; had written to him from Europe, — and now was on 
the way to rejoin him, via his own home! The mother- heart 
recognized an influx of pulsations magnetically suggestive of 
Joyce ! 

They sat in the winter-kitchen, at present masquerading as 
a sitting-room, by grace of the summer-exodus of its culinary 
features to an adjoining shed. Its humble standing, however, 
was betrayed by a single vulnerable point which Mrs. Raymond 
noted, — an immovable range screened by a home-made con- 
trivance of cretonne, framed more artistically than Mrs. Josselyn 
knew, -in gnarled and twisted branches. Since Joyce's day the 
kitchen had evoluted in more ways than one, yet its transforma- 
tion was so superficial that original crudity was still in evidence. 
The floor, — centre -pieced by a rag-rug braided by the house- 
wife's industrious fingers, — was now painted a dull, deep brown, 
brightening to a varnished border. The windows were muslin- 
curtained, the wooden rockers and settees upholstered by home- 
made cushions ; and a couple of devotional books as well as all 
the current magazines, and a pile of '' Pioneer Supplements " 
ostentatiously overshadowing the modest local paper, surrounded 
Mrs. Josselyn's work-basket, on the table. A crayon of Joyce, 
enlarged from his latest photograph by an itinerant " artist,'' 
hung in solitary glory, relieving the monotony of the amber- 
tinted wall ; while a cluster of poppies glowed vividly against 
the original photograph, sharing the mantel with an antique 
clock, and remnants of Colonial china. The old blue pitcher 
and cake- dish that would have rejoiced the heart of a collector, 
gave a genial touch to a domestic development exclusively 
feminine in its significance. Hiram Josselyn -had no part in the 
family progression, save of protest upon general principles. He 
anathematized the screen, which stood between him and his 
use of the range as an elevated footstool ; sniffed disdain at the 
pious books, though examining with interest the pictorial pages 
of the magazines sent free and post-paid from his son Joyce's 
exchanges; twitched back the muslin curtains as hurts to the 
eye-sight, and punched the goose-feather cushions with con- 
temptuous fists and elbows, even while he condescended to ac- 



522 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Jan., 

cumulate the entire assortment behind his bent old back. But 
with recently developed independence, Mrs. Josselyn kept her 
womanly way. As Hiram's wife, she had been a nonentity ; but 
Joyce's mother had taken her belated maternal stand ; and her 
son's financial generosity sustained her late assertion of individual 
rights and privileges. The too common wifely yoke of financial 
dependence demoralizes the woman, and brutalizes her master. 
Joyce's cash- enclosure in every letter to his mother had made 
of Hiram Josselyn's wife an emancipated woman; but with 
feminine fidelity, she compelled her husband to profit, not lose, 
by her gain. 

Dreaming, far away in Europe, of the beautiful, ardent, 
ambitious young American in the gilded setting of Western 
prosperity, Imogen had forgotten to realize, as she realized now, 
the social chasm between them. Even as she entered his home 
her pride and taste had been chilled and jarred. His father 
repelled her, his another vaguely constrained and disturbed 
her, — yet the picturesque novelty of his native heath almost 
compensated for its primitiveness and humility. She felt a 
fascinating desire to explore Joyce's past, — to probe its surface 
and fathom its depths. But her train of thought was inter- 
rupted by the direct address of her mumbling host, of whose 
words she caught only the concluding, phrase, ** Ten thousand 
dollars / " 

" ' Ten thousand dollars,' " she repeated, remotely. " Really, 
I—" 

" Ain't ten thousand dollars worth mentionin' to you, eh ? " 
demanded the irritated financier. " That 's jest like you women- 
folks ; jest like, I swanny ! You think money grows, an' I 
guess it does, out West ! If I leave a widow, — which I ain't 
countin' on doin', leastways not at present, — her money '11 be 
tied up so she can't salt all earth with it! Greased lightnin' 
ain't in it with a man's hard-earned money, onct a woman gits 
the handlin' of it, — specially when she's his widow ! — ^Ten thous* 
and dollars, by gosh ! " 

" Now, Hiram ! " Mrs. Josselyn's reproachful voice reminded 
him. 

" What 's the matter with you f " inquired the rebellious 
Hiram. " What you peckin' again for ? By gum, this house is 
a regular hen-coop! I*nt goin' West to my son Joyce!" 

"Ah, yes; — ^Joyce ! " murmured Imogen, rising. "What a 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 523 

charming photograph of your son I notice here, by the way. — 
I left him a boy, — ^this suggests a man in his youth. I wonder, 
now, what has developed him ? " 

Mrs. Josselyn's hands quivered as she replaced the photograph. 
" I have other pictures," she said, " but they are all upstairs. 
I keep them in his room, — where I go alone — to think of him ! 
Would you like — will you come — " 

" Oh, thank you, Mrs. Josselyn. With the greatest pleas- 
ure! To tell Joyce how his old room looks — " 

" Imogen, it is getting late," objected Father Martin, rising 
hastily. But Imogen's laugh pealed mischievously from the 
stairway. She was suddenly a gay girl, quick of foot, free of 
motion, swayed by exuberant, leaping pulses. Oh, what quaint 
old halls ! Oh, what dear old stairs ! Oh, — ^but this was not 
Joyce's room, — not this ? 

She hesitated on the threshold, vacillating in mind no less 
than in body. Was it picturesque ? Was it sordid ? — Was she 
repelled? Was she touched? Both or neither, — she did not know. 

Even as the June moon had flickered through the open 
window on the night when Joyce had taken his farewell of his 
youthful setting, so the harvest-moon flooded the garret now, 
as Imogen's proud eyes scanned it. Its aspect, as Luna ideal- 
ized it, was lost upon her. From sloping rafters to uncarpeted 
floor, she gazed about her haughtily, incredulously. She could 
not associate Joyce with it, — perfect-faced, dashing, insouciant 
Joyce, framed fitly by Carruthdale, — at home at Golden Gate 
Ranch, — as one of the family, in the Pacific Avenue palace ! 
Her brilliant eyes were sightless beneath mere surfaces. The 
spiritual influence of ascetic simplicity, — the intellectual stimu- 
lation of plain living subordinating matter to mind, — the purifi- 
cation of the human heart sharing the stars' vigil and the 
matins of the sunrise, were to Imogen as things that are not! 
As Mrs. Josselyn turned up her kerosene lamp, the illusion of 
the transfiguring moonlight was banished; and the rude floor, 
the shabby bureau, the coarse white ware of the washstand, 
the wooden chair, the small, hard bed and distorting mirror 
were revealed in all their poverty, their austere discomfort, 
their uncompromising ugliness. Imogen, glancing into the glass, 
made a face at its libellous reflection ; and then, as she wheeled 
about, pointed to the bed with a laugh that approached the 
hysterical. 



524 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Jan., 

"Why, Joyce's splendid height could not get into it, now,"^ 
she said. " Was he really such a child when he left you ? " 

" N — o ! " admitted his mother. " Joyce had outgrown this 
a little, I guess. But he said it was a good thing to keep him 
from growing. And when Hiram was sick, and he came back 
home, for the most part he slept down-stairs." 

She had opened the upper drawer, — the drawer in which 
Joyce had found her present of money, under his handker- 
chiefs, on the night of his High School graduation, and abrupt 
progression towards college. The neat little package of treas- 
ured pictures was folded in tissue-paper. 

" Here 's the first picture he ever had taken," she said, 
seating herself on his bed after patting it lovingly, as she dis- 
played the daguerreotype of an infant prodigy appealing only 
to Mrs. Raymond's humor. " He was just three months old, 
then, and the loveliest baby ! Hiram thought it all nonsense to 
go to the expense ; but I 'd set my heart on it, when I was 
sick almost to death; and made him promise right there that 
if I lived, I could have it taken. I knew he could n't refuse 
me, then /** 

Imogen shuddered softly. The peril, the pain, of a young 
mother ! The incredible humiliation of a penniless wife's de- 
pendence upon the masculine despot in power! Her own in- 
dulged destiny as a beauty and belle, an idolized wife, a social 
princess whom no. crumpled rose-leaf had been suffered to an- 
noy, upon whom no wind of fate had blown rudely, accentu- 
ated by contrast the suffering and hardships of Mrs. Josselyn's 
cramped and untender life. And this was Joyce's mother! 
These were his memories ! This was the atmosphere recalled 
by the name of '' home " I With a thrill of exaltation she real- 
ized what a dream of beauty, of fineness, of exquisiteness, her 
type of womanhood must seem to him, — what a rapturous 
vision the world of wealth and pleasure must reveal to his 
beautiful eyes ! Instead of revulsion from his type, as reflec- 
tive of primitive conditions, she felt, of a sudden, an intensified 
attraction, — an impassioned graciousness, an imperial generosity 
of spirit, an ecstasy of beneficent pride ! Here was something 
new-born, something fresh, something young, alike in years and 
experience, — in knowledge of life, and lessons of the world, — 
in the lore of love and the pride of money, — young with all 
youth, — for her experiment ! Her passionate craving to drain 



I903-] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. $25 

of youth's cup was the maternal instinct distorted, though Imo- 
gen did not know it. A flippant and worldly girl, an unloving 
wife, a supremely selfish woman, — yet the psychological heri- 
tage of motherhood was in her, and maturity reached out for 
its nursling ! At this perilous period, a child of her own would 
have been her salvation; but deliberate lack of motherhood is 
a sin surely punished. The penalty of Imogen's immunity was 
upon her. 

" This is a tin- type taken when Joyce was going on five," 
Mrs. Josselyn explained, beaming upon a long-curled child in a 
staring plaid frock, at which Imogen raised her eyebrows. " I 
sold a year's rags to a pedlar to get that taken; and Hiram 
was mad as a hatter, because he wanted a rug braided for un- 
der his shaving- glass, straw- matting being cold to the feet. But 
I guess I wanted my boy's picture more than he wanted an- 
other rug, and I told him he could bring up the hall-mat to 
stand on, seeing he only shaved once a week. He said he 
wouldn't please me to do it, — that I could just watch my own 
husband stand there and shiver. But he did n't shiver much 
more, once he 'd cut himself shaking after he 'd taken the razor I 
— ^Was n't Joyce big for five, almost as tall as most boys at 
ten ? And those curls were just for all the world like sun- 
shine ! " 

" They are — yet ! " murmured Imogen, in a stifled voice. 
Joyce's mother eyed her bowed face mutely. 

" He did n't have another taken till this one, on the day he 
wore his first long trousers," she resumed, after a little. '' I 
cut an old pair of Hiram's off short, and trimmed them up the 
seams with braid. If Joyce was n't the proudest ! He went 
straight into town and smoked his first cigarette. He said he 
thought that was the thing to do, being a grown-up man. But 
it went to his head so he came home and told of it; and Hiram 
whipped him for wasteful extravagance. He said he did n't 
mind the cigarette, so that it did n't burn up any good money 
of his; but it just went to his heart that a son of Hiram 
Josselyn's should n't have waited till some fool treated 
him ! " 

The array of likenesses was getting low. Besides the Cen- 
treville photograph already familiar to Mrs. Raymond, only one 
more ante-dated those taken in California. This one was Mrs. 
Josselyn's favorite, as the last representative of Joyce's boy- 

TOU LXXYI. — ^34 



526 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SiNNER. [Jan., 

hood. She retained her hold upon one comer of it. Even 
for Imogen's transient scrutiny, she could not quite let it go. 

''This was taken the week he was a High School graduate, 
and never finished till after he 'd run away to college. You 
see what a manly boy he was, though so child-like in all his 
ways. They 've been real big comforts to me, — ^Joyce's pictures 
have ! I steal up here nights, after Hiram 's asleep, and sit in 
his chair — with his photographs in my hand — looking out of 
the window he used to look out of, — just thinking — thinking — 
thinking! A mother has thoughts only God understands, — and 
I guess just to think them — is a real prayer — for mothers ! But 
it don't seem yet — as if He was answering them. Sometimes I 
feel wild, just waiting, — waiting — " 

As her lip trembled, she ceased to speak ; and re-wrapping 
the pictures, tenderly replaced them in the drawer, in which 
she turned the key. As the lamp light flared in her face, it 
threw out pitilessly t\^ry incipient sign of age. Her fair hair 
had developed soft streaks of gray : her face, although time- 
worn, showed more pathetic traces of wear and worry than of 
years ; her trim figure in its obviously home-made waist and 
skirt, looked tired of homely burdens. Her hands were seamed 
by toil ; and now, like her lips, twitched nervously. When she 
had drawn out the key and secreted it under the towel that 
served for a bureau-cover, she lowered the lamp till only the 
moonlight betrayed her. She was screening her rare, slow 
tears. 

 

Imogen, dreading a scene, rose abruptly. 

" I must go," she said. " Thank you so much for your 
charming hospitality, Mrs. Josselyn. After a short stay at Car- 
ruthdale, I shall go to San Francisco. From his mother, I am 
to tell Joyce — what ? " 

**Tell him — tell him — But no; I must tell him myself! 
Tell him just to come home to his mother!" 

Imogen's face hardened as she objected. 

*' Bat it is a long journey, Mrs. Josselyn, and Joyce is very 
much occupied. His editor, Colonel Pearson, is exacting, you 
know; and now, Joyce is interested in mines!" 

•' But that 's just it ! " Mrs. Josselyn had sunk back to the 
bed, her face wan with the anguish of maternal travail of 
spirit. ** He 's too occupied, too interested, about just making 
money, and it's borne in upon me, — hanging over me night 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 527 

and day, — that he'll come to some dreadful harm by it! If 
he does, it will be my fault, — mine and Hiram's ! Before he 
was born, I just thought of nothing but money, money, I did 
so want to buy him — pretty clothes ! " 

She had covered her face with her hands, and was rocking 
to and fro, in helpless misery. Imogen gazed at her in silence. 
She understood the maternal soul but dimly. Yet the keynote 
of sympathy vibrated between them, — both women were think- 
ing of Joyce ! 

•* Oh, I want him back East I " Mrs. Josselyn was sobbing. 
" The West is too rich for him. I 've showed you his room, — 
and told you shameful things, just on purpose to make you 
see — that his place — is n't in it ! Look at me ! Look at his 
father ! We 're plain, humble people. Joyce is getting — too 
high up — for his good ! " 

*' Why, Mrs. Josselyn, what an un-American spirit ! All our 
great men have come from the soil." 

" * Great ? ' — I want my son Joyce to be the greatest there 
is ! But the greatest men are not the rich men, Mrs. Raymond. 
It isn't in Joyce through his father — it isn't in him through 
any Christian teaching of mine,— to make godly and noble use 
of over-much money! He'll spend it in ways that are worse 
than his father's saving ! And it 's all his own mother's fault ! " 

** I never taught him a prayer," she reproached herself. " I 
never taught him to do for others ! I was n't even soft and 
loving to him, to teach him to be unselfish and tender, — once 
he grew into pants, and stopped being a baby 1 My soul was 
about dead, and I guess my heart matched it. All the teach- 
ing I ever gave him, was ' to be a good boy.' — ' A good boy ! ' 
Oh, Mrs. Raymond!" 

" Well," consoled Imogen, densely, " I know my husband 
thought Joyce quite a model, as men go ! " 

** As men go ! " The mother rose, almost a tragical figure. 
Her eyes, level with the upper pane of the low window, turned 
appealingly to the moonlight. She spoke as if rtading earth's 
judgment in heaven. Imogen felt a strange thrill, as of awe. 

" As men go ! " she repeated. " Oh, you poor young, 
heedless, innocent creature, haven't even wifehood and widow- 
hood taught you that the way that men go is the way their 
mothers must save them from, — before birth, and in their inno- 
cent youth ? What is it but the way of greed first, — and then 



528 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Jan., 

the way of wine, or of women, or of both together, — or of 
other things just as sure death to the soul? Mrs. Raymond, 
were you ever a mother ? " 

"//" — italicised the startled Imogen. / a mother f Oh, 
no, no, no ! " 

" But you will be ! You '11 marry again, — you, young, and 
rich, and handsome. And it 's women like you that can be 
such perfect mothers ! Rest, and leisure, and the beautiful 
things of life are so helpful — to motherhood. Yet they 're not 
all ! They 're the smallest part — " 

Her dry lips failed utterance. She moistened them apolo- 
getically. " A woman," she ' faltered, " to be a good mother, — 
a woman must have GOD in her life!*' 

Silence in the humble room, — ^the silence of the moonlight^ 
of the night-time, — of the remorseful maternal soul self-arraigned 
and self- convicted; and the heavier dumbness of Imogen's un- 
developed spirit, dismayed and hesitant in the face of verities 
beyond its ken! 

" God^' repeated Mrs. Josselyn. A rapt smile suddenly illu- 
mined, — transfigured her face, — the smile of the seer of visions. 
'' To think how easily a mother can make great men, — great 
saints ! Just the prayer, and the thought, — and the Christ- 
Child within her. Why, if I could renew my youth, Mrs. Ray- 
mond, I 'd step softly and speak in whispers — in aw:e and 
reverence — of my own wifehood. What matter if Hiram Josselyn 
wasn't all he might be? / counted, — ^just I ! It's the mother, 
not the father, that rules beforehand, however things are after 
birth ! Oh, the power, — for good or evil, — of nascent mother- 
hood ! To call us the inferior sex, — ^and we the makers or 
marrers of all the men-children born into the world ! And oh, 
the childless wives are the guiltiest of all ! To deprive God — 
of the worship and service — of immortal souls ! O, Mrs. Ray- 
mond, to think of the brothers and sisters — my Joyce might 
have had— only Hiram Josselyn — didn't want — an expensive 
family ! " 

Once again Mrs. Raymond shuddered softly. 

" I must go," she repeated, turning away resolutely. " What 
a bijou you have in this dear old homestead, Mrs. Josselyn. 
Our West is so modern, — so new!" 

" Really," she confided to Father Martin, when her suddenly 
haughty farewells were taken, '' to-night has initiated me into 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 529 

the incredible possibilities of the maternal emotion. Its attitude 
mental, spiritual, sentimental, seems to me not quite normally 
sane ! " 

'' It is the sanest streak in the feminine brain, my dear 
Imogen," answered Father Martin, uncompromisingly ; " with- 
out which in the spirit, — if by God's Will not in the letter, — 
the intellectual gray matter runs to chaos ! " 

'' Kindly drop me at the hotel," retorted Imogen, in a dead- 
and-alive voice. "I can survive until to-morrow without greet- 
ing Stephen, — Stephen the saint ! Is he more, or less of a 
bore, than Stephen the prig, I wonder? Good-night, Reverend 
cousin ! What an ideal hospice this grand Hotel de ville of 
your Maintown is ! My excuses to Mam'selle aiid Gladys. I 
shall not wait up for them. I am tired — tired in more than 
the body." 

She swept by the gaping employees, among whom Marie's 
unheard-of requirements already had occasioned despair. The 
French maid met her mistress with petulant tears in her pretty 
dark eyes. 

** Mais, Madame** she protested, dismissing the "best suite," 
which was the pride of the Maintown House, with a single 
comprehensively disdainful gesture, " c*est impossible, — vraiment 
impossible! It is the abomination, — the desolation — of hotels." 

" Of course it is," agreed Imogen. " Therefore do not re- 
mind me of it, Marie. Rather, help me to forget it To-morrow, 
we shall find ourselves at Carruthdale. To-night, my lotus- 
dup, my dream- draught. No, the bromide is too gentle. 
Chloral, — Marie, — chloral ! " 

"But Madame's heart — " 

"Needs must find peace in sleep, if not in waking. I have 
been ennuied intolerably, — unendurably annoyed ! Chloral to- 
night, if you love me ! " 

Imogen's hauteur antagonized, but her humility was resist- 
less. Marie mixed the draught recently forbidden by the famous 
heart-specialist in Paris, — the draught which was to drown the 
challenge of motheijiood still echoing in Mrs. Josselyn's voice I 

" The childless wives are the guiltiest ! " 

Why did the simple words haunt and torture Imogen? 
Moral sensitiveness was a startling proof of the state of transi- 
tion betrayed to Father Martin by his cousin's sudden passion 
for youth. What would be its result ? Who would force its 



530 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Jan., 

issue? Father Martin thought of Joyce's glorious youth, and 
feared ! Then he called himself to account, scrupling riotous 
fancy ! Joyce and Imogen, — what an incredible association ! 
Yet how persistent the suggestion, — how appalling! 

At the rectory, Mam'selle and Gladys still lingered. But 
the hour was late, and they waited but for a word of greeting 
to Father Martin, postponing real reunion until the morrow. 
Stephen escorted them to the hotel ; then dismissed the carriage, 
and returned to the rectory on foot. As he expected. Father 
Martin was awaiting him. 

" Well, my boy ? " he questioned, and his strong voice 
trembled. Stephen had grown into his soul, his heart. 

Stephen strode to the mantel, propping his elbow upon it. 
His pallor was intense, his grave lips set rigidly ; yet his eyes 
were luminous with the joy of victory, surpassing thie wounds 
of strife ! Little by little, however, their light misted over. 
Youthfully, — like a proud boy fighting a hurt in secret, he 
shielded his face with his arm. 

Father Martin crossed to the quiet figure. " So it is well," 
he said, with an arm on Stephen's shoulder. '* Stephen, the 
greater the conquest, the sorer its cost; but the after-peace 
compensates, — it compensates ! " 

" Yes ! " 

The priest's arm pressed closer. The need of man's human 
heart, — he knew it, ah,, he knew it ! But he had learned, too, 
that Divine Love satisfies it ! 

"You are thinking of Gladys as a sweetheart surrendered," 
he said, gently. ** Stephen, make no mistake ! She was never 
your sweetheart. She was your visible angel of message ! " 

Stephen's face, as he lifted it, was a face transfigured. 

"Oh, you have said the right thing!" he cried. "You 
have exorcised the human memory, and invoked the spirit. Yes, 
it is well with me, Martin, — well, and better, and best ! Under 
God, you — and Gladys — have crowned me ! " 

" A crown of thorns, Stephen," reminded Father Martin, 
gravely. 

"The crown of Christ," Stephen answered, with tender 
reverence. 

And then there was silence in the rectory- library, — a silence 
fulfilling the word of Zacharias the prophet: 

" Let all flesh be silent at the presence of the Lord ! " 



1903.] A Pen Picture of English Life. 531 




A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE IN THE FOURTEENTH 

CENTURY. 

BY WILLIAM SETON, LL.D. 

[T is a morning in May in the year of our Lord 
1366 ; the very morning for a ride in the country, 
and two horses are pawing the ground in front 
of a merchant's house on Cheapside Street, 
London, for they are impatient to be unhitched 
from the post around which a herd of swine has gathered and 
are rooting and grunting about their heels. Cheapside is the 
principal street of the town, and Godmund's abode, although it 
is of wood — 6ven its two chimneys are of this material — is one 
of the best private dwellings. It has a high-pitched, red- tiled 
roof, and a court-yard, which is reached by a passage-way from 
the street, and in the court- yard is a stable. On the ground 
floor to the left as we enter we find a commodious hall, to the 
right is a large chamber connecting with the kitchen, while 
there are three rooms on the second story, and above these 
rooms is a garret. Nor is Godmund's home wanting in comfort 
within. It is true the loosely fitting doors do make plenty of 
draughts, but fresh air is hot unhealthy, and the fireplaces are 
somewhat smoky. But the hall is hung with tapestry em- 
broidered with scenes taken from ballads of the time, and the 
broadest of its five or six stools has a good back to it (this 
is kept for the favored guest), while the two narrow windows 
of the hall, although they have no glass, are closed with oiled 
paper through which, at this hour, the sunbeams are streaming. 
The merchant's bedroom on the second floor has a small 
oratory where hangs an immense rosary ; near the rosary is a 
prettily illuminated book containing the seven penitential psalms 
— of course in manuscript; and as Godmund was once a happy 
married man, there is also, as we might expect, a mirror in his 
bed-chamber; but it is a hand mirror of polished metal — a wed- 
ding gift to his late wife; what we call a looking-glass has not 
yet come into use. Nor do we see any hair-brush. But there 
is a good stout comb, and the bed is covered with a canopy 



532 A PEN Picture of English Life. [Jan., 

of silken curtains ; but there is no pillow : only the sick have 
pillows.* And now, before we close our brief description of 
Godmund's home, let us add that the servants take their meals 
with the family, and that the dinner hour — mark this well — is 
eleven in the forenoon and the supper hour is five in the after- 
noon; nor when it grows dark do we find any more rush- 
lights, for now they burn candles. This spring morning, seated 
on the broad stool with a back to it, is a man of about thirty 
years of age, with a neatly parted forked beard ; his habit is of 
dark-colored cloth to which a hood is attached, and in his girdle 
is fastened a knife and a pencascf His name is Geoffrey 
Chaucer; a somewhat silent individual, who is fond of books, 
and Godmund, the merchant, is one of the few persons whom 
he cares to visit. But here he often comes and is always wel« 
come, for he has visited Italy, has conversed with Dante, and 
he has many interesting things to tell about that far-away 
country. He has not yet begun to write The Canterbury Tales ; 
but the idea of this inimitable picture of English life in the 
fourteenth century is coming to him little by little, and the old 
merchant has just been encouraging him to write it. 

" Pray how came you by this ? " inquired Chaucer, taking up 
a beautiful glass bowl from the little table at his elbow. '' This 
gem was surely wrought in Italy — Italy, the home of everything 
that is beautiful?" 

" Ay, I bought it yesterday of a trader from Antwerp who 
had come from Milan," answered Godmund. 

" How transparent it is ! " exclaimed Chaucer. " And how 
much brighter and cheerful this hall would be were this material 
put in the windows instead of oiled paper." 

" Well, I doubt not but one of these days we shall use 
glass; oiled paper does not let in half the light," answered 
Godmund. 

" And when I last visited you I did not see this either," 
continued Chaucer, setting down the bowl and picking up a 
toy-like image of a man rudely carved in wood; it looked to 
be a pretty old carving, and the man had only one foot. 

" Ah, that is an heirloom," said Godmund. '' Years ago my 
father bade me to take good care of it, for he did get it from his 
father, and I was told that it represented one of my long dead 
kinsmen. I know not which one ; but the story runs that he did 

• Loftie, London Afternoons. \ Green, History of the English People. 



1903.] A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 533 

have a foot chopped off by a cruel baron in whose forest he 
had killed deer, and now that I am quite an old man I fished 
it out this week from among my duds, and I have begged my 
grandson to cherish it after I am carried off to God's acre." 

" And pray what have you there ? 'Tis something new to 
me too/' said Chaucer, pointing to a piece of parchment which 
was hanging in a frame on the wall above the fireplace. 

" 'Tis another heirloom that I have told my grandson to 
keep safe and to be proud of, for it shows how we have gotten 
up in the world," replied the merchant. " It is a copy of the 
sheriff's order summoning my father to Parliament in the year 

1295." 

** Why, so it is," said Chaucer, rising from his seat and read- 
ing aloud what was written on the parchment: "The King to 
the Sheriff of (London). Since we intend to have a consulta- 
tion and meeting with the earls, barons, and other principal 
men of our kingdom with regard to providing remedies against 
the dangers which are in these days threatening the same 
kingdom, and on that account have commanded them to be 
with us on the Lord's day next after the feast of St Martin in 
the approaching winter, at Westminster, to consider, ordain, and 
do as may be necessary for the avoidance of these dangers; 
we strictly require you to cause . . . two citizens from 
(London) ... of those who ^ are especially discreet and 
capable of laboring, to be elected without delay and to cause 
them to come to us at the aforesaid time and place. . . . 
And you shall have there the names of the knights, citizens, 
and burgesses, and this writ. Witness the King at Canterbury 
on this third day of October.* 

"This summons to Parliament," said Chaucer when he had 
finished reading, " is interesting, for it shows that our kings do 
see the danger of raising money without the consent of barons 
and burgesses." 

" Ay," spoke Godmund. " And this summons was a good 
while ago, in the reign of Edward L, he who conquered Wales, 
and who, when his wife Eleanor did give birth to a son in that 
wild country, did set the natives mad with joy to have the 
child called Prince of Wales, a name that may like enough 
stick to the eldest son of our kings for ever." 

• Translations from the original sources of European History, Vol. I., No. 6. Edited by 
E. T. Cheney, A.M. 



534 ^ P^N PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. [Jan., 

Here the loud neighing of the horses outside reminded them 
that it was high time to be off; for they were going to Cam- 
bridge, a good fifty miles, where Chaucer had friends, and 
where they intended to pass the night. In a couple of minutes 
more Godmund and Chaucer had mounted into the saddle, and 
as they rode away they met within a few rods of the I}ouse a 
knight cased in plate armor, and his steed, which jogged 
heavily along, was almost as much concealed under iron trap- 
pings as the knight himself; only the knight's head was un- 
covered, while behind him rode a squire carrying his helmet, 
and following the squire came a score of shaggy, fierce-looking 
troopers, some of whom had fought under the Black Prince at 
Cressy and Poitiers, and they were riding in single file owing 
to the narrowness of the street. Not far behind the soldiers 
walked two barefooted Franciscan friars and a number of 
market-women carrying baskets on their heads. But your ear 
caught no rumbling of carts and carriages ; only laughter and 
merry voices were heard in the London streets, which were 
alive with merry people, and pigs and dogs too were out in 
great numbers, squealing and yelping, on this sunny May morn- 
ing, Anno Domini 1366. 

'* How some folks do get over their misfortunes," spoke 
Godmund presently. " But, alas ! I cannot get over mine. AH 
my family except my poor old self and one grandson have 
been carried off by the pestilence. Only think of it ! " 

." Ay," answered Chaucer, ** that was indeed an awful visita- 
tion. But 'tis now seventeen years since the Black Death dis- 
appeared, and we may hope and pray that that mysterious sick- 
ness will not come again ; for out of England's 4,000,000 of peo- 
ple it did destroy 2,000,000, and had it lasted a few more years 
not a soul might have been left to tell about it." As Chaucer 
spoke tears ran down the old merchant's wrinkled cheeks; he 
had lost so many whom he loved ; he could not forget his dear 
wife. ** And yet," continued his friend, " awful as the Black 
Death was, it did do some good. For by killing about half 
the population, a good number of those who remained to till 
the soil have been able to get three times as much for their 
labor. The villeins have been shrewd enough to see their 
advantage, and in many cases the great lords have been obliged 
to yield to them, or else to let their manors go completely to 
waste." 



1903.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 535 

" True," said Godmund. " And no doubt the Statute of 
Laborers which Parliament did pass, and which was meant to pre* 
vent the villeins from getting more for their work than they 
got before the pestilence, has been a failure." 

'' Not altogether a failure," said Chaucer, shaking his head. 
'' Higher wages have not been granted to all. I am told that 
in some parts of the country where the villeins have run away 
rather than submit to work for the old wages, they have been 
declared outlaws ; they are chased like wild beasts, and when 
they are caught they are flogged and put into prison, and 
'twould not surprise me if before very many years there was an 
uprising of the poor people to maintain their God-given rights, 
— an uprising which will startle the whole kingdom." 

"Well, I do hope the uprising may not come in my life- 
time," said , Godmund. "For I have witnessed over-much 
fighting and bloodshed. Indeed, there seems to be no end of 
it. When we have not been warring with the French our 
barons have put their hired retainers to an evil work at home. 
I have known them to seize and hold rich traders to ransom, 
and they do even carry off young women to their castles and 
marry them there by force." 

" Ay, ay, you must have witnessed many inhuman deeds in 
your long life," said Chaucer, patting his horse's neck as they 
jogged along. 

" I have indeed," answered Godmund. " Why, I can re- 
member — I was quite a little boy — when my father did tell my 
mother a great piece of news: the king — 'twas Edward I. — 
had commanded all the Jews to leave the kingdom for ever 
under penalty of death; and after confiscating everything they 
possessed for the benefit of the Crown, he did drive sixteen 
thousand of them into exile." * 

** Well, that king did one thing," said Chaucer, " for which 
peaceful, law-abiding folk like you and me must be devoutly 
thankful: he did order all the bushes and underwood on both 
sides of the high-roads which lead from town to town to be cut 
down for the space of two hundred feet, so that robbers may 
not so easily hide themselves from view, and now when we do 
venture beyond the walls of London we are comparatively safe 
from a surprise." 

"Ay, ay," said the merchant, "let us be thankful to him 

• Lingard, Edward I. 



536 A PEN Picture of English Life. [Jan., 

for that. But what may we think of his son, Edward II., 
passing twenty-three years of his life warring against the 
Scotch, a people as thin and hard and good for nothing as their 
own hills?" 

" Ay, 't was indeed a foolish game to be pounding his head 
against them for twenty-three years," answered Chaucer. "But 
those wild folks did give us one sound drubbing at Bannock- 
burn, and 'tis well for us they have not many leaders like 
Bruce." 

"And what a painful ending King Edward II. did come 
to ! " continued Godmund. " To have his own adulterous wife 
plotting against him, and then to be murdered in prison by 
having a red-hot iron shoved into his bowels. Alas! what a 
vile example do our nobles and our kings give to their poor 
people." 

"Well, we cannot but be proud of our spearmen and our 
bowmen under his successor, our present sovereign, Edward 
III.," said Chaucer. "Look what glory we have won under 
our king's son, who from the color of his armor has been 
christened the Black Prince. Look how we did wallop the 
French at Cressy and Poitiers ! Although they were a good 
five to one against us, look how we did wallop them ! " 

" Alas ! poor France," said the merchant, heaving a sigh. 
" And I do wonder me, friend Chaucer, that a scholar so fond 
of books as you are, should make so much of military glory. 
Think of the blood which has been spilt and of the number- 
less villages our soldiers have burned as they marched up and 
down beautiful, sunny France: and all that killing and burning 
did spring from the foolish ambition of King Edward to hold 
fast to his possessions across the water. Is not our own Eng- 
land a big enough country for him ? " 

"Well, methinks 'tis because I have been a soldier myself 
that I do feel proud of our spearmen and bowmen," answered 
Chaucer. "Ay, although the Frenchmen were a good five to 
one against us, we did wallop them well at Cressy and Poitiers." 

" But only think what the Black Prince did to the people 
of Limoges," continued Godmund. " After he was master of 
that town he did let his soldiers loose upon the people, and 
his soldiers did kill in cold blood three thousand men, women, 
and children."* 

• Froissart. 



1903.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 537 

We do not know what reply Chaucer might have made to 
this — perhaps the only dark blot on the name of the Black 
Prince — ^for they had now arrived at the wall which surrounded 
London, and while they were crossing the drawbridge Chaucer 
held his nose tightly pinched between his fingers, for the stag- 
nant water in the moat was giving out a foul stench, and we 
cannot wonder that the Black Death had made so many vic- 
tims. But Chaucer did not altogether change the subject, for 
when they had passed over the drawbridge he said : " Well, 
you do allow that one good thing has come from our never- 
ending wars: it has put our king in sore need of money, and 
this need of money has made him more dependent on the peo- 
ple. There are more frequent parliaments, and while we may 
complain of • burdensome taxes, our parliaments, which consist 
of Commons as well as Lords, and which are assembled by the 
king's command to consult with him, do hold the purse- 
strings." 

'* Ay, true enough. Good may sometimes come out of evil," 
answered Godmund. " And, moreover, friend Chaucer, we have 
shown the Lords, who are styled in the Rolls 'The Great Men 
of the Land,' that we, who are styled in the Rolls 'The Little 
Men of the Commons,' are quite as important as they are." 

" And the Commons is composed of knights and merchants, 
is it not ? " inquired Chaucer. 

" Ay, each county sends two knights, who are chosen by 
the Court of the County, while the merchants who represent 
the towns are chosen by their fellow- citizens. And we mer- 
chants have had the wit to make common cause with the 
knights, and to-day these two subdivisions of the Commons are so 
blended together that we find little or no distinction between 
them." 

" What you tell me is very interesting," said Chaucer. 

" And the Lords and Commons do deliberate separately," pur- 
sued Godmund. " And to every unjust imposition of the king 
the Commons, 'The Little Men,' as we are called, are not 
backward to declare that our assent is necessary to make it 
legal. I well remember not very many years ago, 'twas in 1346, 
our king by proclamation did call on every land-owner to fur- 
nish horsemen and bowmen in proportion to the number of his 
acres, and he also demanded a certain sum of money from 
every town. Well, the Commons held that this call for money 



538 A Pen Picture of English life, [Jan., 

was issued without their assent, and so stoutly did they stand 
their ground that in the end it was enacted that this demand 
was against the liberties of the kingdom, and the king did 
yield, albeit with a very bad grace." 

" Good ! good ! " exclaimed Chaucer, dropping the reins and 
clapping his hands. 

" And on one occasion," continued Godmund, " when our 
king could not get enough money out of us to carry on his 
war against the French, he did actually pawn the jewels of the 
crown, and we let him pawn them. We did indeed." Here the 
old merchant laughed aloud. 

** What a good road we are on," said Chaucer presently, 
after a hearty laugh too. "A pity every road is not like this 



one. 



"Ah, this highway was made by the Romans over a thous- 
and years ago," said Godmund. ** But for many generations 
after they withdrew from our island it was utterly neglected. 
It is only within my own life-time that it has been put in re- 
pair. And as you perceive, by yonder villein who is at work 
cutting away the bushes and brambles, every obstacle which 
might obstruct the view for a space of two hundred feet on 
either side of the road is removed, so that a robber cannot 
now so easily spring upon a traveller unawares ; and for this, 
as you remarked awhile ago, we must be thankful to King 
Edward I." 

** How I should like to have known the old Romans, who 
made this highway," said Chaucer ; " for they were indeed a 
wonderful people. And after their legions departed methinks a 
few Roman families may have stayed behind ; I doubt if they 
all went away together, and I do wonder what may have been 
the fate of those few families." 

•' Like enough intermarried with our wolfish forefathers and 
imparted to them a little of their brains," replied Godmund. 
" For we were a thick-headed, savage lot. Why, even to-day 
we cannot abide long at peace among ourselves nor with our 
neighbors." 

" Well, think you not, friend Godmund, that we are slowly 
growing more peace-loving and civilized ? " 

" Ay, but very, very slowly," answered the merchant. 

" I fear you be still depressed by the shadow of the Black 
Death," said Chaucer. " Pray do not brood so much over your 



i903] A PEN Picture of English Life. 539 

loss. Look to the future. Your grandson is a bright boy, who 
may like enough one of these days sit in Parliament, even as 
his great-grandfather did." 

"Ay, to be sure, so he may. And thanks be to God the 
Black Death did spare him," said Godmund, a smile lighting 
up his visage. 

And during the rest of the day the old merchant was more 
cheerful; and when by and by they arrived at a broad, open 
space he and Chaucer drew rein a few minuted and watched a 
gay party of knights and ladies on horseback, who were looking 
intently at some object far up in the sky: 'twas a falcon pur- 
suing a heron. And far off as the falcon was — almost out of 
sight — you still could hear the tinkling of the two little bells 
attached to its legs. Presently the sound of the bells became 
a little more distinct ; then more and more distinct the tinkling 
grew; and now all the knights and the ladies began to clap 
their hands, and while they were in this flutter of excitement — 
even their neighing, prancing horses seemed to know what was 
coming — down the well-trained falcon dropped from its dizzy 
height and, perching itself upon a fair damsel's wrist, it let fall 
at the feet of her palfry the torn and dying heron. 

" Verily, falconry is a fine sport," said Chaucer as they rode 
on. "And 'tis the only pastime our great folk do have when 
they are not busy with their battle-axes. But what did pleasure 
me most was to hear the merry party talking in our own Eng- 
lish tongue, and not in French as they used. And I rejoice 
that now in many of our grammar schools the children are 
learning to construe in their mother tongue." 

" Ay, ay," said Godmund. " And I do hope you may live 
to write a book, mayhap that poem of which you are dream- 
ing, with nearly all the words in it English words. Do not 
bury your talents ; you have visited Italy ; think how much 
you know, how much more of the world you have seen than I, 
who have never been further than the town of Oxford." 

" Well, in Oxford you did behold a most wonderful com- 
munity," said Chaucer. " 'Tis a world in itself ; as proud and 
free and turbulent a world as you can find anywhere else under 
the sun. Many of the undergraduates of its University do have 
to beg for bread they are so poor; and they do live in squalid 
houses, and they do carry swords and they do fight among 
themselves. I had two friends, both subtle in metaphysics, who 



S40 A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. [Jan., 

did slash each other's noses off, and then by mistake picking 
up the wrong nose to sew on again, did fight a second time to 
get back the right nose ; and 'twixt the scholars and townsfolk 
the quarrels do be at times deadly affairs.* But despite its tur- 
bulence Oxford is a glorious town where every man does hun- 
ger and thirst for knowledge ; 'tis the very atmosphere for a 
bookworm, and you may judge what Oxford is when it has 
given to the world the monk Roger Bacon, the friend of the 
physical sciences ; Grosseteste, the great Bishop of Lincoln, and 
Duns Scotus; nor is there anything I am so proud of as to be 
able to say I did study in the house of the Grey Friars at Ox- 
ford : and let me add that the friars do be strongly on the side 
of English liberty."! 

It was in such pleasant conversation that Godmund and 
Chaucer continued their way to Cambridge, where they arrived 
a couple of hours after sundown, hungry and tired and thank- 
ful to find one spare room at the Peacock Inn ; for the* town 
was overcrowded with people of all degrees from far and near, 
who had come to attend the greatest fair of the kingdom, which 
was held twice a year at Stourbridge, near by.} Here let us 
observe that as few towns at this period had more than five 
thousand inhabitants, it was not possible for the ordinary trader 
to find in his home community enough customers for his wares, 
and hence th^ great importance of fairs for commercial inter- 
course ; they form an important economic feature of the Middle 
Ages: and, as we have said, the most popular fair in England 
during the fourteenth century and long afterwards was the one 
at Stourbridge, very near to Cambridge. 

It resembled nothing so much as a diminutive city of tents, 
which was thronged during the daytime with nobles and monks 
and men of lesser degree, many of them with their wives and 
daughters, and all in a jovial mood. The streets of this little 
city were admirably laid out, and their names told you what 
kind of goods were to be found in them. One was called 
''The Spicery," another "The Drapery," another "The Pot- 
tery," and so on. But people did not come to the fair merely 
to buy and to sell; they came too for a frolic. And many a 
maiden would ride back on her father's pack-horse to her 

• Trevelyan, England in thi Age of Wycliffe, p. 296. 

t Green, History of the English People, 

\ Gibbins, Industrial History of England, p. 63. 



1903.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 541 

lonesome home by the Yorkshire moors, thinking of the dance 
she had enjoyed with the potter's son from the far-off town of 
Canterbury,, and happy in the thought that he had promised 
to meet her here again in a twelvemonth. 

"Stourbridge fair," said Godmund to Chaucer the next 
morning, as they strolled out of the Peacock Inn accompanied 
by a number of foreigners, who seemed to be all speaking at 
the same time and with many gesticulations, — " Stourbridge 
fair gets its importance from being within easy reach of the 
East coast. These French folk and Spanish folk who are 
chattering around us, have brought here their delicious wines 
from the South ; ^ and those tall, long-bearded men ahead of us 
are no doubt traders from Norway, who have come with car- 
goes of tar and pitch; and I can tell by the flag on yonder 
little vessel sailing up the Ouse that it has sailed all the way 
from Antwerp, laden with fine cloths from Bruges, and Ghent 
and Li^ge. Now, we English folk do give these traders, in 
return for their wares, lead from the mines of Derbyshire, tin 
from Cornwall, iron from Sussex, plenty of barley for the 
Flemish breweries, and also horses and cattle." 

In about half an hour they were at the fair ground ; and 
let us say that of the many things which engaged their atten- 
tion during the day two objects did especially interest them. 
One of these objects was a cannon, the first one ever seen in 
this part of England, and the powder to put into it had been 
manufactured in the Tower of London. And when at high 
noon the cannon was fired off the excitement was indescribable, 
and a score of panic-stricken donkeys, all braying at once, 
broke loose from the posts to which they were hitched and 
dashed frantically through the tents of 'Spicery Street,' nor 
did they halt at ' Burgundy Lane,' but after smashing a num- 
ber of casks of wine and almost killing a trader from Bor- 
deaux, on they galloped, and they did not pause in their mad 
career until they ran up against the wall of St. Edmund's 
monastery. 

But more amusing than the flight of these panic-stricken 
asses were the antics of a dwarf in a big tent, which was 
thronged the whole day long by a laughing, gaping crowd. 
This little man was Jerry, the celebrated Court Fool of King 
Edward III. He had only one eye and a huge wart on the 
end of his nose, and he had been brought to the fair By the 

VOL. LXXVI.— 35 



542 A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. [Jan. 

Duke of Lancaster. Jerry's jokes and grimaces did really seem 
to have no end, and when at length the sun dipped htfaw the 
horizon and curfew sounded, and he was carried away whist- 
ling and snapping his fingers in an empty wine cask, to sleep 
at the duke's castle, Godmund declared to Chaucer that he 
feared he might be ill for so much laughing. 

'' Well, a court fool does play an important part in court 
life," answered Chaucer. "For when the king does become 
weary of fighting and returns to his palace, his fool does keep 
up his spirits, and 'tis said that Jerry does speak things to 
King Edward which would cost you and me our heads." 

"Think you," said Godmund, "that a time' may come when 
our kings will not want buffoons to entertain them, and when 
they will like peace better than war ? " 

"I believe that time will come," answered Chaucer, "but 
not until all men of high and low degree do prefer books to 
battle-axes and cross-bows. To-day men do undoubtedly love 
to fight, and our nobles do have no trouble in hiring small 
armies of retainers, who do wear their livery, and the king, 
who has no regular army at his command, is obliged to hire 
these soldiers from his nobles, and these soldiers do be willing 
enough to come to him, and 'tis with these spearmen and 
bowmen that we have won so much glory in France. Never- 
theless, friend Godmund, I do believe a more peaceful age will 
come by and by : 't will come when more folks are able to 
read and to write ; and surely our monasteries are doing a 
good work by their grammar schools : 't will come when all 
the old Roman roads are put in good shape, so that folks may 
take pleasure in visiting distant parts of the kingdom and in 
becoming better acquainted with one another: 'twill come when 
an honest merchant like yourself is as much esteemed as a 
knight clad in armor, who is impatient to fight another knight 
But when that happy time does come, friend Godmund, you 
and I will have lain many a year in God's acre." 





^ 


^ 


Diews anb IReviews. 


• 


+ 

— — + 



X. Web^: The Mystery of William Shakespeare ; 2, Baxter: Sermons frofn the 
Latins ; 3. Wey: Rome; 4. Logne: The Shadows of an Ideal; 5. Glovmtaki: 
Thenaraoh and tkg Priest; 6. Francis: The Manor Farm; 7. Taggart: 

The Wyndham Girls ; 8. A Round Table of Representative German 

Catholic Novelists ; 9. Stokoe: With Napoleon at St. Helena; 10. Mo' 

Bride Literature and Art Readers ; 11. Creighton : Thoughts on Education ; 
12. Panl: Matthew Arnold; 13. Ward-Beccoro : Texts for Children; The 
Holy Rosary in Presence of fesus in the Blessed Sacrament ; 14. Meyer: 
First Lessons in the Science of the Saints ; 15. BelleTiie : CEuvre du Saint 
Esprit ou la Sanctification des Ames; 16. Fiske: Essays, Historical and 
Literary \ 17. Davitt: The Boer Fight for Freedom. 



1 — ^The fashion is not yet outgrown of smiling pitifully 
when Bacon is maintained to be the author of the Shake- 
spearian plays. Yet there has been distinguished talent enlisted 
for the Baconian hypothesis; and in this age of criticism that 
fact alone ought to win respect for the contention. Now, we 
make no pretence of supporting the new hypothesis, but we 
assure our readers that if they peruse carefully Judge Webb's • 
captivating presentation of the question they will at least ad- 
mit, with him, that "at the present moment there is much 
doubt and misgiving on the subject among serious men, and its 
discussion can no longer be tabooed as fit only for the lunatic, 
the faddist, and the fool." For apart from unwise attempts, as 
they seem to be, to read the riddle by ingenious cryptograms, 
there certainly is a striking mass of evidence in favor of the 
Lord of Verulam as the greatest dramatist of all times, and 
apparently there is as large a number of difficulties connected 
with a Shakespearian as with a Baconian authorship. 

A few sentences from Judge Webb's concluding chapter will 
give an idea, necessarily imperfect of course, of the arguments 
used by the "higher critics" of the great plays: "The num- 
ber and importance of the parallelisms which have been de- 
tected between the plays of Shakespeare and the acknowledged 
works of Bacon cannot be denied or disregarded. It has been 
shown that the plays are pervaded with the language of the 
Law Tracts; that they are saturated with the Wisdom 

• The Mystery of William Shakespeare : A Summary of Evidence. By his Honor Judge 
Webb, Regius Professor of Laws and Public Orator in the University of Dublin. London 
and New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 



544 Views and Reviews, [Jan., 

of the Ancients ; that they are alternately ennobled and de- 
based by the science and, the pseudo-science of the Natural 
History; and. that they are decorated by the learning and 
by the philosophy of the De Augmentis, Shakespeare, like 
Bacon, adopts the theory of pneumaticals and the theory of 
spontaneous generation; like Bacon, he anticipates the most 
remarkable conclusions of modern science with regard to the 
transmutation of species and the origin of storms ; and like 
Bacon, he repudiates the conclusions of Copernicus and Kepler, 
and obstinately maintains the doctrine of the Stoics that the 
stars are fires, and the doctrine of the Ptolemaics that the sun 
revolves around the earth. In spite of the natural diversities 
that exist between poetry and prose, the style of the Baconian 
prose and that of the Shakespearian poetry is fundamentally the 
same. They parade the same deracinated Latin, they affect 
the same triplicities and triads, they indulge in the same effer- 
vescence of expression, they adopt the same peculiar phrases, 
and they are guilty of the same solecisms in point of grammar. 
In their style, in their scholarship, in their scientific conclu- 
sions, in their philosophical opinions, in their political preju- 
dices, in their very blunders they are one." And the entire 
case is again summed up between the rivals thus: ''Two men 
are presented to us as claiming to be Shakespeare — the one the 
young man who came up from Stratford and became a Lon- 
don player; the other the son of a Lord Keeper, the nephew 
of a Lord Treasurer, the companion of nobles and the favorite 
of princes ; the one a man of obscure origin, of defective edu- 
cation, of degrading associations, and of mean employments — a 
man of whose personality we know next to nothing ; the other 
a man of the world, a master of all the learning of his time, a 
scholar, a law3^er, and a man of science, a wit, a philosopher, 
and a poet, a man of acknowledged genius, and by universal 
admission one of the greatest of the sons of men. In the one 
case there is a startling contrast between the man as we know 
him and the works as we possess them; in the other, the 
works as we possess them and the man as we know him are in 
strict accord." How all these conclusions are derived and sup- 
ported, one must go through Judge Webb's volume to discover. 
But he certainly does support them in a very able, and some- 
times in a very startling manner. We promise any reader of 
this work many an hour filled with surprises and with abun- 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 545 

dant material for a singularly attractive course of speculation. 
For ourselves, we are so taken with admiration for , modern 
critical methods, that we confess we should be rejoiced at such 
a , triumph of analytic scholarship as would be won if the world 
actually should be convinced that Bacon and not Shakespeare is 
the author of the greatest work of human literature. 

2. — It is hard to understand why Dr. Baxter disclaims the 
real authorship of these sermons.* He says, with evident hu- 
mility, that he has taken the *' matter " of them mostly from 
the " Condones " of Bellarmin, but he has evidently so added to 
the ideas he obtained from his sources, and has so transformed 

• 

the original material, that he is surely entitled as much as most 
authors of sermon books to the credit of their composition. 

And in general, it is fair to say, no little credit is due to 
Dr. Baxter for this volume. It contains a multitude of good 
things. It puts many of the doctrines of Holy Church in an 
attractive setting, illustrates them with vigorous, simple, pictur- 
esque language ; it contains many a passage of no ordinary 
beauty and strength, and it surely avoids the usual defect of 
sermon-books — unreadableness. The sermons are all interesting, 
all thoughtful. 

But we should hardly dare say that there are no faults in 
the work. Perhaps a mention of a few we have noticed, given 
in a spirit of thorough sympathy, may not be unwelcome to 
the reverend author, and may help towards the perfection of a 
future volume of his sermons — a volume we shall be glad to see. 

Let us say then: Dr. Baxter has the gift of graphic lan- 
guage, picture language ; but he occasionally fails to restrain 
it; he allows himself some words and phrases that rather 
wound one's sense of fitness; for instance, to speak of the 
church as a " Great Spiritual Insurance Company," or of 
Lazarus as "resembling the roasted apple." Another matter 
that does violence to a nice sense of taste is the incorporation 
of a secular poem (though it be the noble " Recessional " of 
Kipling) in a sacred discourse. Secondly : it strikes us some 
things might better be left unsaid for fear of being misinter- 
preted by the popular, untrained mind; for instance, the ex- 
planation of the justice of occult compensation, as set forth on 
page 297 ; or again, the rather risky* argument from natural 

* Sermons from the Latins. Adapted from Bellarmin, Segneri, and other sources by Rev, 
James J. Baxter, D.D. New York: Benziger Brothers. 



546 VIEWS AND REVIEWS. [Jan., 

impulse, in proof of a thesis at best dubious, the superiority of 
capital 4>unishment over life imprisonment ; or again, the ap- 
parently (mind, we say apparent^ having in view the simple 
reader) indiscriminate heaping together of all labor leaders. as 
"irresponsible men," "whose only work is to preach the doc- 
trine of murder and robbery," page 295. Not all strikers or 
strike agitators are anarchists or socialists, and it is dangerous 
to use language that could even be interpreted as indicating 
that the contrary is the author's opinion ; and again, we think 
it rather an extreme concession to say that it is " no wonder 
the poor man gets desperate and rebels," even after the church 
has held up to his eyes the cross, the symbol of patient en- 
durance of wrong; and the concession surely is extreme, if 
we are to claim in the next breath that " the church alone can 
hope to stand between the poor and rich," etc., page 293. 

Little things like these — faults of judgment and of taste — 
occasionally mar an otherwise excellent work. To make a 
larger comment. The whole treatment of the sermons on 
Socialism, Capital Punishment, the Catholic Church and Salva- 
tion, and the Divinity of Christ, have satisfied us less than the 
other sermons, for reasons that we scarcely have space to de- 
velop. Suffice it to say here, that on many of the doctrinal 
and controversial points in the sermons mentioned, the proofs 
alleged, especially when they are texts of Holy Scripture, are 
quite inadequate ; sometimes, it seems to us, lamentably so. 

But we could as easily enumerate, and more readily com- 
ment upon, the things that have pleased us in the perusal of 
this volume, and we repeat the hope that Dr. Baxter will pub- 
lish again, avoiding the defects of which we have spoken. 

3. — Many causes contribute to make Rome "The Eternal 
City," but not the least of them is the everlasting interest which 
Rome, the city, is capable of maintaining in the minds of men. 
Those writers who make it a point to watch the popular fancy 
and cater to it, teach us this, if nothing else : that Rome and 
things Roman are as potent now as ever as stimulants of the 
imagination and curiosity, the wonderment and admiration even 
of the millions, who have never felt the charm of a personal 
ac:}uaintance with the city that, in one way or another, has 
been the capital of the world since long before the days of the 
Caesars. 



1903] VIEWS AND REVIEWS. 547 

Consequently we have no dearth of books on Rome, be 
they histories, novels, descriptions. Zola, Hall Caine, Marie 
Corelli, have profited by their shrewd knowledge of the likings 
of the crowd, and to mention more respectable authors, 
Sienkiewicz and Marion Crawford have given to the reading 
public volumes of entrancing interest, half- history, half- romance, 
in their Quo Vadis and Ave Roma Immortalis. 

Before the appearance of any of these late works, there was 
one which had won success enough to. warrant its republication, 
years after its first issue. This was Francis Wey's Rome,^ the 
book in hand. At this late date it is worthy of recommenda- 
tion principally because of its abundance of popular description 
of the art- treasures of Rome, ancient and modern. For this 
reason it has an independent value, in spite of it being super- 
seded in many other respects. 

As usual (from experience we might almost say, " as inevi- 
table"), we have to notice here and there a word or two 
objectionable to Catholic readers. Had we the editing of this 
new edition, we would have stricken out all the note from Hare, 
on p. 108, because Catholics are not ''Romanists," nor is the 
Immaculate Conception a "dogma of .1870." And once more, 
though the reiteration is wearisome, we submit that to talk 
about "the sale of indulgences" under Leo X. is to evidence 
one's ignorance of the fact that this falsehood has died out of 
history as well as out of reputable controversy. 

With such exception, now and then, the book is fair, and 
not only fair but generous in its recognition of the good work 
of the Church at Rome. Finally, the volume is handsome and 
well supplied with beautiful illustrations of some of the master- 
pieces of painting that the Eternal City can boast. 

4. — ^There is something very dainty about the latest vol- 
ume f of Emily R. Logue's poems. There is the light fairy 
touch of the shadows that chase each other across the summer 
landscape, and there is a bit of the dream world as the artist, 
sitting in the soft evening light, with exquisite touch, elicits the 
pianissimo notes from the delicately- tuned instrument. The 
temper of all these poems is just a degree above the realistic 

* Rome, By Francis Wey. New edition, revised and compared with the latest authorities, 
by Maria Homer Lansdale. Philadelphia : Henry T. Coates &- Co. 1898. 

t The Shadows of an Ideal, By Emily R. Logue. New York : Columbus Press, 120 West 
60th Street. 



548 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [Jan., 

world of thought about us, thus verifying their name — The 
Shadows of an Ideal. Many of them are perfectly chiselled in 
measure and elevated in thought. The " Ideal " who has evi- 
dently been the mentor of the poet's spirit is a white-souled 
nun : 

" She is so pure, so holy, that there lies 
Upon her life's most fair virginity 

The wondrous light of God. 

• ••■••• 

To those whom she has chosen to call friends 
There is a beauty not of earth around 
Her gentle ways, her spirit's steadfast might 
And grace divine, the dower of heaven, attends 
The stainless life whose three-fold vow has bound 
Her heart's deep love unto the Infinite " ; 

and it is for this reason that the range of topics is largely re- 
ligious. 

There is one little poem, evidently born of a trip to the 
sea-shore, that calls up visions of the " Summer Girl " ; " My 
beating heart " is like unto the stormy restlessness of the sea ; 
" My waking spirit love's unrest " was caused by some one who 
called her '' His nut-brown maid." But, alas ! for the fickleness 
of the human heart, he passed away with the summer. A long- 
drawn sigh and a spirit of resignation comes over the poet'^ 
spirit, and she prays that " the endless struggle " will some day 
make her worthy to be, 

*' Where sin and sorrow fade. 
His nut-brown maid." 

5. — Certainly the Polish author, Alexander Glovatski, has 
given us a remarkable book in The Pharaoh and the Priest.^ It 
is an historical novel of Ancient Egypt The scene of action 
takes place in the eleventh century before Christ, at the be- 
ginning of the decadence of Egypt. Even imagination cannot 
truly tell the wonderful historic position of Ancient Egypt. 
The very soil from which was drawn the heart of material life 
grew everything needed for the food and clothing of man and 
the nourishment of the beast. From its mud was constructed 
the brick which made Egyptian buildings withstand the ravages 

• Th€ Pharaoh and the Priest, By Alexander Glovatski. Boston : Little, Brown & Co. 



igos] Views and Reviews. 549 

of long processes of time. This vast material organism of Egypt 
was ruled and directed by two powerful social elements — the 
priesthood and the Pharaohs. At this time it furnished the 
markets of the then civilized world. However, Egypt's great- 
ness was not alone in its commercialism. There was created 
within it the disciplined energy which reared those monuments 
of stone which have preserved its language, religion, history, 
and life. It is probable that from the Egyptians have come 
those first beginnings of writing and those earliest historic ex* 
pressions of the religious instinct. Egypt was great too in her 
ideas. There arose, however, a day of decline. With power 
and wealth there came the inevitable tendency to pleasure — the 
moral standard of the priesthood and the Pharaohs was lowered 
— action was relaxed, and then began the epoch of foreign 
bondage and finally national ruin. Around this large area of 
life has Mr. Glovatski placed his picturesque work. The 
vehement struggle between the priesthood and the Pharaohs 
could not be more powerfully written. The book ends with 
the tremendous climax of the destruction of both forces and the 
consummation of Egypt's doom, beginning with the accession of 
powerful tyrants from Assyria and Persia. The tale is inter- 
woven with the tragic pictures of popular passion, — the glory 
of triumph, the fierceness of war, the ecstasy of love. There is 
characteristically depicted for us the racial conflicts and tempera- 
mental peculiarities of Jews, Greeks, Assyrians, Phoenicians, and 
Libyans in their varied relationships with Egypt. The scenic 
effects of T/ie Pharaoh and the Priest are in every manner 
splendid. Music, ritual, drama, poetry, sentiment, joy, melan- 
choly, all meet and mingle according as the development of the 
plot demands it. It is in every sense an interesting and 
thorough piece of work. Perhaps it lacks too much the strain 
of romance to fully gratify the ordinary modern reader, but 
this takes away nothing from the objective value and strength 
of the book. 

6. — The Manor Farm^ is a novel by M. E. Francis (Mrs. 
Francis Blundell). The author has given us several other books, 
principally dealing with pastoral life in England. William 
Barnes, the poet, has demonstrated how much of romance and 
beauty there is in the simple duties of the English peasant folk. 

• The Manor Farm, By M. E. Francis. New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 



S50 VIEWS AND Reviews. [Jan., 

The love story before us is another picture of the same truth. 
Like the breath of an Engttsh meadow in early spring, it is 
sweet, pure, and wholesome. In these days such a production 
ought to be commended. 

7.-^We do not remember to have seen a purer and more 
wholesome story than The Wyndham Girls.* And this dtstiiic- 
tion it achieves without the copious admixture of piety so 
common to most books for the young written by Catholic 
authors, and which, however good in itself, often proves dis- 
tasteful Besides, The Wyndham Girls is bright and sprightly, 
often keen and humorous, always noble — in a word altogether 
delightful. The courage and single-heartedness of the three 
charming girls in their struggle against the comparative poverty 
to which they were reduced by the dishonesty of the trustee 
of their inheritance, will be an inspiration to any girl. 

This is Miss Taggart's most ambitious work, and it is 
eminently successful. It will make an excellent holiday gift to 
girls. 

8. — ^The latest volume of >(essrs. Benziger's *' Round 
Table " series is this collection f of short stories by representa- 
tive German Catholic novelists. They are twelve in number, 
and each is preceded by a biographical sketch, bibliography, 
and each but one by a portrait of its author. Among the 
stories is one by Father Spillman, S.J., whose novel, Lucius 
Flavus^ appeared recently in this country. 

9, — These memoirs { of Dr. John Stokoe give further testi- 
mony to the brutal treatment received by Napoleon at the 
hands of the British government while he was a prisoner on 
St. Helena. The writings of O'Meara, Las Cases, Antom- 
marchi, and Montholon, all eye-witnesses, were the first to tell 
of it, and they held popular credence antil the publication of 
Dr. Forsyth's History of Napoleon's Captivity^ in which use was 
made of papers of Sir Hudson Lowe, Napoleon's custodian at 

* The Wyptdham Girls. By Marion Ames Taggart. With illustrations by C. M. Relyea. 
New York : The Century Company. 

t A Round Table of Representative German Catholic Novelists. With Portraits, Biographi- 
cal Sketches, and Bibliography. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benziger Brothers. 

X With Napoleon at St. Helena, Being the Memoirs of Dr. John Stokoe, Naval Surgeon. 
Translated from the French of Paul Frdmeaux by Edith S. Stokoe. London and New York : 
John Lane. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 551 

Longwood. Forsyth made it appear that Lowe, not Napoleon, 
was the outraged person, and public opinion followed him. 
Dr. Stokoe's memoirs discredit Forsyth and corroborate 
O'Meara and the rest. Dr. Stokoe was at St. Helena from 
June, 181 7, to September, 18 19, and relates what he saw dur- 
ing that interval. His way was not strewn with roses, and he 
was called back to England to be returned to St. Helena and 
there court-martialed. 

He was not a skilful narrator^ and his memoirs have not 
been given as they left his pen. The present writer has told 
the story in his own words, and explained it as he went along. 
It is an interesting but melancholy story. One can get no bet- 
ter idea of the indignities Napoleon suffered than from his own 
words to Stokoe: "I should have lived to the age of eighty 
if they had not brought me to this vile place." The simplest 
family communications were denied him, and he, before whom 
Europe had trembled, was a captive on a pestilential island 
and compelled to suffer the intolerable persecution of a narrow- 
minded, suspicious governor. 

10. — In the McBride Literature and Art Readers • the au- 
thor, Mrs. B. Ellen Burke, has rendered a genuine service to 
the teachers and children of this country. While a wave of 
art " talk " has swept over the land, there has been nothing 
until these books appeared to help either child or teacher to a 
true interpretation of the artist's meaning. We had a surfeit 
of the terms "tints," "tone," "depth," "color," "light," and 
'' shade " ; but of the great truth that the artist had to tell 
not a word had been said, nor in many cases could be said, 
because, forsooth, the artist had a religious truth to portray, 
and religious truths have become* unpopular and unknown, or 
else must not be mentioned because they would interfere with 
the sale of the text-book. 

The pictures are admirably selected. In the first books are 
placed those that relate to the infancy and childhood of the 
Saviour or that tell of his love for children. There are, also, 
pictures of child life and of animal life, but in each case the 
picture is a copy of a masterpiece, so that from the beginning 
the child sees only the best in art as well as in literature. 

The Teachers' Manuals accompanying the series give the 

• McBride Literature and Art Readers, New York : D. H. McBride & Co. 



552 Views and Reviews. [Jan.^ 

most improved methods of teaching reading, and explain so 
much about the pictures that they are most valuable, not only 
to the inexperienced but to the experienced teacher. 

A charming unity and variety run through the series. The 
Fourth Book gives historical pictures; the Fifth, reproductions 
of famous marbles; in the Sixth and Seventh the works of 
Raphael, Da Vinci, Murillo, and other great artists stand side 
by side with selections from the great literary lights, Newman^ 
Manning, Browning, and others. 

Pictures and brief biographical sketches of the authors give 
the children some knowledge of their Catholic heritage. These 
books would be valuable for this reason alone. 

In artistic arrangement, in selection of material that is new 
and excellent as well as of that which is old and classic, in all 
that appeals to a child's sense of beauty and interest, in sug* 
gestions that are most valuable to the teacher — this, new series 
of readers holds a unique and valuable place among the text- 
books for Catholic schools. 

11, — :The late Anglican bishop Creighton's Thoughts on Edu- 
cation • is a fine contribution to that great present need, a whole- 
some pedagogy. Unfortunately the little work is very fragmen- 
tary, consisting mainly of half- reported discourses, scattered 
notes, and occasional addresses. But a unifying principle binds 
them together nevertheless; and this is the great and noble 
principle that a child's soul must grow in the knowledge of 
divine as well as profane science, and that consequently the 
teacher but continues the creative work of God and assists the 
uplifting inspirations of grace. Let the following sentences speak 
for the work : " Religious teaching, it must be remembered, 
cannot be differentiated from all other instruction and taught by 
itself at certain hours of the day. Religion must influence all 
the teaching given in the school. A child is just the creature 
who ought to be taught the most dogmatic religion possible. 
The object of education, after all, is character. We wish our 
children to grow in love, that their love may abound in knowl- 
edge. What we are engaged on in education is the formation 
of character, not the formation of certain aptitudes for reading, 
writing, and doing sums. I would remind you that it is not suc- 
cess that makes the man, but his power of enduring for righteous- 

^ Thoughts on Education, By Mandell Crcighton, D.D. Edited by Louise Creighton. 
New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 553 

ness' sake. Every teacher is engaged in a great process of crea- 
tion ; he is liberating human character from the inertness which 
surrounds it, and is striving to call it to a consciousness of true 
life. Remember this, that after all the g^eat object of education is 
not knowledge but the formation of that capacity for judgment for 
which we have been praying as the special gift of the Holy Ghost." 
Whether the book contains a complete theory of education or 
not, and we have said that it does not, such sentiments as 
these, coming from one of the most erudite historians of our 
age, give to it a rare value which will commend it to all lovers 
of the spiritual as opposed to the mechanical theory of edu-- 
cation. 

12. — We have come upon a study of Matthew Arnold • by 
Mr. Herbert W. Paul. The author has given very thorough 
attention to his subject. That his judgments concerning the 
great English critic are always accurate must be left to the 
wisdom of the reader to express. Literature concerning the 
position of Matthew Arnold is constantly increasing. This is 
proof enough that hb. has- made an impression on the ' literary 
thought of the iage. The book before us is lively and inter- 
esting. The author's conclusions are valuable ; their correctness 
can be the better judged when more is said and written concern- 
ing Mr. Arnold. In three or four chapters Mr. Paul has given 
a most serious analysis of the poetry of Matthew Arnold. He 
likewise discusses his prose-writings, philosophy, politics, and 
his views of education. The chapter on his theology is especially 
clear. As Mr. Frederick Harrison saw nothing coherent in 
Mr. Arnold's principles of philosophy, so Mr. Gladstone charged 
faim with presenting the Christian religion in such a form as to 
be recognizable neither by friend nor foe. Mr. Russell and 
Professor Saintsbury never regarded Arnold's religious essays 
seriously. Mr. Arnold's Biblical criticism was taken for the 
most part from Ewald, Gesenius, and Kuenen. His Saint 
Paul and Protestantism and Literature and Dogma are not 
accurate theological works. He rejected not merely miracles but 
the personality of God. He thought it a very mischievous 
statement that "the God of the Universe is a Person." God 
was the Eternal, and the Eternal was " the enduring power, not 
ourselves,, which mikes for righteousness." It was quite within 

^ Matthew Arnold, By Herbert W. Paul. New York: The Macmillan Company. 



554 VIEWS AND REVIEWS. [Ji 



the method of Matthew Arnold to substitute sometimes his own 
words for the sacredly constituted and traditional words of the 
New Testament, and to interpret for himself disputed passages. 
To all of this the author, Mr. Herbert Paul, concludes wisely — 
Christ's teaching must be taken as a whole or as we have it; 
we cannot pick and choose. Mr. Paul's position is, that we 
must take all or nothing of the Scriptural record. His criticism 
of Mr. Arnold's position would have been more complete if he 
had studied the argument for the necessity of an authoritative 
body to interpret the Sacred Books. Perforce we must differ 
from Mr. Herbert Paul in many of his theological opinions. 
The book is his own, as. his judgments of Matthew Arnold are 
his own, and he honestly and seriously presents them to us. 
In discussing his religious thought it would be fair to add that 
in Mr. Arnold's address to the London clergy at Sion College 
he gravely argues that the state should adopt "some form of 
religion or other — that which seems best suited to the majority." 
His highest conception of the Established Church is found on 
page thirty- seven of his work, Last Essays on Church and 
Religion^ where he says that it ''is to be considered as a 
national Christian society for the promotion of goodness, to 
which a man cannot but wish well and in which he might re- 
joice to minister." 

In all things pertaining to Mr. Arnold the work of Mr. 
Herbert W. Paul is well worthy of consideration. It is a real 
contribution to the study of a distinguished English critic and 
poet. 

13. — A unique volume* is that prepared by "a friend of 
little children," M. A. Ward, for the purpose of aiding mothers 
to impart to the very young a slight knowledge of Sacred 
Scripture. In a small volume of 140 pages he presents for 
each day of the year some few lines quoted either from the 
Old or the New Testament and serviceable both as spiritual 
nourishment and as aids to religious knowledge. 

Another small volume f recently issued is made up of a 
series of fifteen highly-colored pictures and prayers, one for 
each decade of the Rosary. 

• Texts for Children. Arranged for every day in the year. By M. A. Ward. With a 
Preface by Rev. Father Gallwey, S.J. London : Burns & Oates, Ltd. 

t The Holy Rosary in Presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. By Fr. Gerard Beccoro. 
New York: Benziger Brothers. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 555 

14 — In his First Lessons in the Science of the Saints • Father 
Meyer presents the reader with a sound and simple resumi of 
Catholic ascetical teaching upon certain first principles of 
spiritual development. There is abundant common sense in 
these pages as well as profound wisdom; the author's instruc- 
tions are imparted in kindly, earnest, encouraging spirit; the 
authenticity of his teaching is vindicated by his wide experi- 
ence and by a familiarity with the authorities on his subject 
matter which none could doubt who peruse these pages. The 
book serves to remind us that time and space are as naught 
before the truth of good, and that the first steps in the spiritual 
life are what they have always been — self-knowledge, self-con- 
trol, and energy. 

15 — ^The Abb^ de Belleviie has chosen a striking subject 
for his recent volume ; f he discusses the work of the Holy Spirit 
in the sanctification of souls. Being a professor of dogmatic 
theology, the author very naturally treats his question in a 
strictly scientific way, and clings closely to the technical side 
of the numerous points that come up for consideration. His 
erudition and his wide reading on the matter in hand are ap- 
patent at every step. The book can scarcely fail to suggest 
many wonderful things to the thoughtful reader; yet the sub- 
ject it treats will not be effectively grasped by a great number 
until translated from its rather rigid theological f6rm into 
language more easily understood and more deeply sympathized 
with by the unprofessional reader. 

16. — ^The recently published volumes of essays and ad- 
dresses ( by the late John Fiske deal with the two studies 
which have been long and honorably associated with his name — 
American history and the Spencerian philosophy. In these 
papers the merits and the shortcomings characteristic of their 
author are very conspicuous. The evidences of wide reading 
are here, the generally reverent spirit, and the luminous style, 
sometimes, however, disfigured by colloquialisms and Yankeeisms 
which hurt one in the writings of a scholar. On the less 

* First Lessons in the Science of the Saints. By R. J. Meyer, S.J. St. Louis : B. Herder. 

t CEuvre du Saint Esprit ou La Sanctification des Ames, Par Abb^ de Bellevue. Paris : 
Victor Retaux. 

X Essays, Historical ani Literary, By John Fiske, 2 vols. New York: The Macmillan 
Company. 



S56 Views and Reviews. [Jan., 

favorable side, John Fiske appears here as that which he will 
doubtless be in the estimate of posterity, not an original 
thinker nor a profound, and independent investigator, but as a 
rapporteur, an organ of utterance and interpretation for greater 
and deeper men. When he ventures on a broad generalization 
of his own, one feels an instinctive insecurity in the ground 
chosen for the position ; for Fiske's mind lacked the patience, 
the ripeness, the caution, and the freedom from preconceptions 
by which great intellectual leaders attract hosts to follow them. 
His judgment could be even grotesque. For example, in the 
essay on New France he declares that the Inquisition actually 
depleted the Spanish people, so deadly was its work in cutting 
off "the brightest and boldest," leaving only "the dullest and 
weakest " ; " and accordingly the Spaniard of the nineteenth 
century is, as compared with his contemporaries, a less in- 
telligent and less enterprising person than the Spaniard of 
the sixteenth century." Now, we have absolutely no inten- 
tion and no desire of defending the Spanish Inquisition. 
Nevertheless we deem it a highly fantastic and utterly un- 
scholarly thing to say that the Inquisition had much the 
same effect in Spain as the Napoleonic campaigns had in 
France; that is, that it was so colossal an engine of de- 
struction as to bring deterioration to the Spanish character 
and disaster to the nation's career. The Inquisition was not so 
huge an agency as this by any means, and the decline in 
Spanish power must be sought in other and far deeper sources. 
Another instance of our author's unwholesomeness of imagina- 
tion occurs in the same essay. Speaking of the celebrated 
Indian raid on Haverhill in 1697, in which Mrs. Dustin was 
taken prisoner, he says : " These bloodthirsty savages were de- 
vout Catholics, brought into the Christian fold by Jesuit elo- 
quence, and daily they counted over their rosaries and mumbled 
their guttural Pater Nosters. To the natural delight which the 
Indian felt in roasting a captive, they could add the keener 
zest which thrilled the soul of the follower of Loyola in deliver- 
ing up a heretic unto Satan." We can only say of this 
unhappy sentence that, apart from the bitterness and narrow- 
ness it displays, and judged solely by its absurdity in making 
a gang of savage cutthroats conscientious in their daily rosary, 
and by its violation of historical truth in implying that the 
followers of Loyola ever handed heretics over to capital pun- 



1903.1 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. 557 

ishment, it does little credit to Mr. Fiske. From such exhibi- 
tions of a quality worse than mediocrity, we gladly turn to the 
really fine work in these volumes, which is best seen in the 
essays on United States history. There are several good mono- 
grraphs on our great statesmen and a notably fine paper in 
vindication of the Boston Tea Party. We may add to these a 
lively account of the author's personal relations with Huxley as 
one of the best essays in the group. In summary we would 
pass the judgment that Mr. Fiske's reputation as a thinker, a 
cautious scholar, and a literary critic suffers from this posthu- 
mous publication, but that his past fame as a student of 
American history is quite sustained by it. 

17. — Michael Davitt's book on the Boer War* is both a 
vivid account of the South African campaigns and an ardent 
arraignment of the British government and army. Mr. Davitt 
is a trained writer; he was on the scene of conflict, and his 
Celtic sympathies are deeply moved by his theme. Conse- 
quently he gives us a stirring history with many eminently 
well wrought descriptions, and presents us above all with a 
first-hand narrative of the pathetic struggle which closed the 
national life of a free people. The war is minutely described 
up to the month of May, 1900. As Mr. Davitt left South 
Africa at that time, his account of the guerrilla warfare of the 
last months of Boer resistance is more condensed and rapid. 
All through the book run that fierce resistance to power as 
oppressive of weakness, and that fiery sympathy with a people 
in the field for freedom, which spring so spontaneously from 
an Irish heart. Those whose convictions as to the war are one 
with the author's will find this history inspiring reading indeed. 

• Th£ Botr Fight for Frtedom. By Michael Davitt. New York: Funk & Wagnalls Co. 



VOL. LZXVI.— 36 



ai^ ai^ ai library XTable. » » » 



The Tablet (8 Nov.): The Bishop of Southwark, in his sermon 
at the funeral of Dr. Butler, mentions that the deceased 
was in a most true sense a theologian alive to the needs 
of the time, having been a most receptive pupil of his 
illustrious master, W. G. Ward. The best- known charac- 
teristic of his devotional life was his devotion to the Holy 
Spirit. He was moreover in the fullest sense a priest. " He 
could not conceive a higher call to sanctity than vocation to 
the priesthood, and he could not understand how any work 
for God, be it the preaching of missions or retreats, or 
the direction of souls, or the great work of education, 
could be regarded as unsuitable for a priest unless he 
took upon himself other obligations in addition to his 
priesthood. For this we owe him a great debt of grati- 
tude, both for his example and for his teaching. Both 
alike they warn us against those theories of the relative 
perfection of states of life which may have their place 
for academical discussion in the schools, but which, when 
translated into the practice of daily life, may easily be- 
come a snare and stumbling-block in the path to per- 
fection of individual souls." 

(22 Nov.): Mentions some of the theses defended by 
Father Holzapfel, O.F.M., in his candidacy for his Doc- 
tor's Degree at the University of Munich : No writer 
earlier than the eleventh century holds that St. Lazarus 
and his sisters came to France. Arguments most weighty 
can be adduced against the opinion that the marriage of 
St. Henry H. was virginal. The Rosary was neither in- 
stituted nor propagated by St. Dominic. From Papal 
Bulls it can clearly be proven that the translation of the 
Holy House of Loretto is not a historical fact. The 
simoniacal election of the Supreme Pontiff from the year 
1x79 to the year 1506 appears to have been valid. That 
the historical lessons of the Breviary are in great need 
of correction was openly declared both by Benedict XIV. 
and by the Fathers of the Vatican Council. Civil offi- 
cials are not to be disturbed if bona fide they legislate 



1903.] ' Library Table. 559 

against the rights of the church. The Bull of John 
XXII. which is claimed to allow the Sabbatine privilege 
is spurious. 
Revue du Clerge Frangais (i Oct.): P. Dubois writes that though 
the nature of the fire of purgatory has never been de- 
fined by the church, the people, and the majority of the 
people, know only "the theory of material fire." But 
modern apologists have enough to do in defending 
authentic dogmas, and sometimes cannot afford to go out 
of their way to defend a simple " thesis of the schola," 
The theory of the material fire of purgatory has not 
always been taught unanimously in the church, and the 
theory of figurative fire is not without a basis in tradi- 
tion. 

(15 Oct.): P. Dunand discusses a doctrine quite preva- 
lent in Catholic schools, that the pains of purgatory 
differ from those of hell only in point of duration. But 
this teaching is worth just what the reasons ihat support 
it are worth, namely, very little. 

(i Nov.): Reviewing M. Houtin's History of Scriptural 
Studies during the Nineteenth Century, P. Venard finds 
that, though not perfectly dispassionate, it is a valuable 
book and teaches, among other useful lessons, that the in- 
feriority, of the Catholic clergy in Biblical studies has 
had disastrous consequences. 

(15 Nov.): P. Bricout (the editor of the Revue) applauds 
the establishment of the Biblical Commission, and in 
proclaiming his loyalty says : ** Every one can realize 
how much it cost me to close our broad and hospitable 
Revue to my old professor, the learned Abbe Loisy ; but 
I did it in obedience to the honored Cardinal Richard." 
P. Delfour presents an interesting critique of Zola, "who 
escapes all literary classification for the decisive reason 
that he is a ' barbarian,' by his own admission." P. 
Godet comments upon the noble soul and splendid talent 
of the late F. X. Kraus, "a profound and learned histor- 
ian, ranking with Moehler and Dollinger — and even sur- 
passing them in the variety of his knowledge and the 
suppleness of his mind — and standing in a glorious posi- 
tion beside M. de Rossi, among the Christian apologists of 
the nineteenth century. A sincere and devout priest, his 



56o Library Table. [Jan., 

character was graced with virtue and with genius." 
It is noteworthy that when a youth he entered the 
Jesuit novitiate, but had to obtain an indefinite leave of 
absence for his health's sake. As he never formally with- 
drew, he remained until death, as he was wont to say, 
"a prospective Jesuit." 

(i Dec): In reply to M. Gayraud, P. Durand, S.J., 
contends that the Holy Father's teaching upon Scripture 
is not opposed by the view that in historical matters, 
which are but a secondary object of the inspired writer, 
we can look for only a relative exactness — many details 
remain within the field of opinion. This has been often 
proclaimed before, by Loisy, Lagrange, O.P., L^vesque, 
S.S., Dr. Clarke, Lucas, S.J., Gigot, S.S., Prat, S.J. It 
would be a grave error to suppose that once the Pope 
has declared the inerrancy of the Bible, Catholics have 
but to accept that pronouncement without troubling them- 
selves as to its precise meaning and scope. Like every 
formula it has to be explained.. 

P. Maissonneuve gives a most interesting resume of a 
course of Biblical lectures delivered by P. Lagrange at 
Toulouse to an audience composed of ecclesiastics, both 
regular and secular, journalists, university professors, and 
a limited number of ladies whose zeal recalled that of 
Paula and Marcella and Eustochium. 
Le Correspondant (lo Oct.): In the light of the recently pub- 
lished " Letters from the Seminary " of Ernest Renan 
and of the proposal to erect .a statue in his honor, M. 
L. De Lauzac De Laborie discusses .the crisis in Renan*s 
soul. 

(lo November): M. Brunetiere, in a paper on the progress 
of Catholicity, gives the following signs of a great future 
for the church: i. The utter downfall of materialism, 
and the precarious tenure of the agnosticism which has 
succeeded it. 2. The prodigious growth of Catholicity 
in the United States; a growth so wonderful that Pobe- 
donostseff, the Procurator of the Russian Holy Synod, 
confesses himself terrified at it. 3. The conversion of 
types of men so diverse as Newman, Manning, and 
Hecker proves that every aspiration of the age will find 
its satisfaction in the ancient faith. 



1 903.] Library Table, 561 

Annates de Philosophie Chretienne (Nov.) : A writer comments 
on the remarkable change of view regarding the Mosaic 
authorship of the Pentateuch. Formerly when certain 
conscientious exegetes timidly and most moderately ven- 
tured upon a discussion of this question, they suffered 
violent assaults — Les Etudes, as always, marching along 
bravely with its trumpet : Heresy was being encouraged, 
the faithful were being troubled. Such audacity should 
be denounced in the name of orthodoxy and principle. 
But at present P. Hummelauer, S.J., teaches unequivo- 
cally and without interference, that Moses wrote but 
part of the Pentateuch; and Rome, instead of being 
troubled at his ideas, summons him to a place on the 
Biblical Commission. 

A. Baumann reviews Mile. Camille Bos' recent study of 
the Psychology of Belief, a subject nowadays quite a la 
mode. After praising the book highly, the critic com- 
ments upon the lack of scientific sincerity which char- 
acterizes the majority of apologetical works, and which 
makes it seem as if for many Catholics, especially priests, 
there must exist two kinds of truth — that which the 
church is sent to teach and to conserve at all costs, 
and that which the scrupulous think it well, to hide 
for ever lest the faithful be scandalized. Now, since, 
particularly in exegetics, a great many erroneous beliefs 
are mixed in with religious truth, it is almost impossible 
to take a step forward without striking against some 
cherished notion, hence our apologetical works are de- 
prived of almost all scientific value. He then recalls the 
suppression of M. de S^gur's History of the Council of 
Trent and the condemnation by the Index of the famous 
book on St. Theresa by Fr. Hahn, S.J. How joyfully 
proud Catholics would be if their religious society were 
marching at the head of progress in religious science ! 
It is a depressing thought, however, that the now pre- 
vailing attitude inhibits progress, and that no advance is 
made until some insurgent rises and begins to discuss 
what otherwise would have lain hidden in the mind of 
learned men who keep silent out of respect for the simple. 

£tudes (5 Nov.) : Fr. Prat contributes an article on progress 
and tradition in exegesis. He praises Leo XIII. for 



562 Library Table. [Jan. 

establishing the Biblical Commission, which will furnish 
authoritative explanation for many questions now clamor- 
ing for solution. 

Science Catholiqiie (Nov.) : Discussing the question of St. 
Joseph's freedom from venial sin, Dom Lajat, O.S.B., 
holds, that we may be permitted to believe that St. 
Joseph was exempt from all venial sin after the time 
of his marriage with our Blessed Lady. 

Revue Generate (Nov.) : Eugene Gilbert in a review of Paul 
Bourget's much discussed work, L£tape^ speaks in terms 
of highest praise of the author, and says his book will 
rank among the foremost artistic works of our age. 

Democratic Chretienne (Nov.) : H. Du Sart continues his expo- 
sition of the economic materialism of Karl Marx. £. 
Depene reviews, and comments favorably on, "The 
Workingman's Apostolate," an article by Father Cuth- 
bert which appeared in the June number of THE 
Catholic World Magazine. Jerome Zimmermann 
discusses the plan to establish throughout France circles 
for the study of social questions ; he advocates immedi- 
ate action and endorses the programme of La Sillon. 
Mgr. Bande, Bishop of Tortone, explains the relation 
that the social problem has to the work of the sacred 
ministry ; he urges his priests to study deeply the social 
questions of to-day. 

Rassegna Nazionate (i Nov.): A. Gherardi undertakes the ex- 
amination and refutal of Dr. Portigliotti, who in a recent 
volume has attempted to prove that Savonarola was men- 
tally unbalanced. S. di P. R., commenting upon Femin- 
ism, notices two recent articles in the North American 
Review and proclaims the Duchess of Sutherland's con- 
tribution to be fair and temperate, but Vernon Lee's ar- 
ticle to be one of the kind which render the movement 
ridiculous by exaggeration. Deep religious sense and 
thorough Christian training, both practical and intellec- 
tual, are indispensable for the ideal woman. 

Stimmen aus Maria-Laack (Nov.) : P. Bessmer contrasts heart- 
rsading by the saints with the phenomenon of spiritism, 
etc. He collects instances from the life of St. Philip 
Neri to show how different that saint's power was from 
the alleged abilities of somnambulists, mind-readers, Indian 
fakirs, and the like. 



The report of Father Ketcham, the Director 

Authentic State- of the Bureau of Catholic Indian Missions, to 

SiTconditton 5the *^^ Archbishops is a model of clear, concise 

Indian Question, statement, and it puts into the hands of the 

people an authoritative statement of the re- 
lations between the government and the Catholic Indians. 

The first thing that impresses one on reading the report 
is the evident desire on the part of the present adminis- 
tration to give to the Catholic Indians their long denied 
rights. The first step in this direction was the revocation 
of the "Browning Ruling." On September 30, 1896, Hon. 
D. M. Browning, then Commissioner of Indian Affairs, in 
answer to the question ''whether parents of Indian children 
have a right to decide where their children shall attend school," 
said : ** It is your duty first to build up and maintain the 
government day schools as indicated in your letter, and the 
Indian parents have no right to designate which school their 
children shall attend." This iniquitous ruling, on account of 
which Indian parents were outraged in their natural rights, 
prevailed until it was revoked by President McKinley at the 
solicitation of Archbishop Ireland. Before the revocation 
was carried out the President was shot, and the real abrogation 
was not given effect until eight months later, January 17, 1902, 
through the practical desire of President Roosevelt to yield to 
Catholics their full rights. 

The second step was the appointment of Archbishop Ryan 
and Charles J. Bonaparte on the Board of Indian Commission- 
ers. The Board is a body of ten citizens eminent for intelli- 
gence and philanthropy, appointed "by the President solely" 
and serving " without pecuniary compensation." A request was 
made that Archbishop Ryan be appointed to the place made 
vacant by the death of Bishop Whipple, P. E. Bishop of Min- 
nesota; it was answered by the appointment of two Catholics, 
Archbishop Ryan and Charles J. Bonaparte. Inasmuch as over 
one-third of the Indians are Catholics the fairness of these 
appointments is evident. As the report says : " The courage 
and justice displayed by President Roosevelt in these two ap- 
pointments entitle him to the highest commendation of his 
Catholic fellow countrymen." 



564 Comment on Current topics. [Jan., 

In the matter, however, of the withdrawal of rations the 
Catholic schools have sustained a loss of not less than $25,000 
a year, while hundreds of Indian children are deprived of food 
and clothing guaranteed them by treaty, after most earnest 
efforts to prevent it. This was finally made effective by an 
interpretation given to the law by Attorney- General Knox. It 
is a matter of consoling comment, however, that the Indians 
were never more anxious to patronize Catholic schools, although 
in doing so they suffer a loss of many of the material comforts 
that are gained by attendance on the government schools. 

Finally, it is important to state that the Indian Bureau, while 
acknowledging a certain utility in the " Carlisle plan," which 
establishes a sympathetic co-operation with the church in culti- 
vating the religious beliefs and fostering morality among the 
Indian children, still it does not believe that this compromise 
can be a basis of permanent and effective settlement. For this 
reason it is absolutely necessary for the Catholic people to sup- 
port, and thus make permanent, the mission schools. 

The statement presented in this issue of the 
The Question of present financial condition of the Parish 
SohoolB. Schools in the City of New York is valua- 

ble, not only on account of its authoritative 
character but and especially on account of the full and com- 
plete statement it furnishes of the efforts the Catholic parents 
are making to safeguard the religious belief of their children. 

These efforts are not measured by what is given to support 
the parish school system, though this is considerable. In the 
Borough of Manhattan alone the cost of maintenance is $328,989, 
which, added to the interest on the investment, makes easily 
over $500,000 a year, and for the whole State this would amount 
to a million and a half. The sincerity of the Catholic belief in the 
necessity of the parish school is measured just as well by what 
Catholic parents yield up of the superior facilities of the public 
school system. As citizens of the State they are entitled to enjoy 
their share of the $49,331,957 expended for public instruction, 
and there is no class of citizens that would profit so much by 
the unequalled facilities the State affords in educational lines. 
But because of their profound conviction that the conscience 
must be trained as well as the mind, and that a dogmatic reli- 
gion must be taught in childhood's years, they freely cast the 
•^"^^•'^ educational facilities aside and spontaneously pay out a 



1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 565 

million and a half of dollars each year, in order that, their 
children may be imbued with a sense of religion. 

« 
The figures just issued from the office of 

^o^^TSfY^eis'' ^"^^ Superintendent of Public Instruction in- 

dicate that during the last school year 
$49*33 If 95 7 were paid for the support of education in the 
State of New York. The average cost per pupil was $41.14. 
If there were added to the 1,268,830 pupils on register in the 
public schools the 150,000 in the parish schools, six millions 
more would be added to the burdens of the taxpayers. It is 
very interesting to know that a poor . Catholic laborer on 
Avenue A is educating Mr. Waldorf Astoria's child on Madison 
Avenue, and by his devotion to an ideal he is lightening the 
citizens* burden by $6,000,000 every year. 

The late Dr. Alphonse L. Magnien, S.S., 
Death of AbM president emeritus of St. Mary's Seminary, 
Magnien. Baltimore, was one of the most widely- 

known priests in America. Born in Lizere, 
France, 1837, and called to America some years after his ordi- 
nation, he was appointed to the presidency of St. Mary's in 
1878, which office he held till a year ago. Under his adminis- 
tration three new houses were founded and the work of the 
Sulpicians widely extended through the country. All of which 
is an evidence of Abbe Magnien's executive ability and com- 
mendable foresight. His influence over the very large number 
of priests who were trained under his care ever endured for 
good, and Cardinal Gibbons looked to him for many years as 
his intimate adviser and counsellor. Prudent, judicious, possess- 
ing rare tact, wise in the affairs of men, sympathetic with the 
needs and hopes of the American people, zealous for the ad- 
vancement and progress of the Catholic Church, his death marks 
the passing of a most notable figure in American ecclesiastical 
history. 

The St. Vincent de Paul Society of New 

Methods of St. York City is just getting some measure of 

inoent e Paul ^j^^ public recognition that it deserves for 

nised. ^^ charitable work it has done among the 

needy poor. The report that has been re- 
cently issued indicates that there are 1,179 active workers, and 



566 Comment on Current Topics. [Jan., 

that during the year ending September, 1902, 46,578 visits 
were made. 

The methods of charitable relief in. vogue in the St. Vin- 
cent de Paul Society have frequently been commended by 
philanthropists, because the visitors do not go as detectives to 
spy out fraud but in a spirit of religion to bring relief. They 
look upon the poor as the needy ones of the flock, and while 
every reasonable care is taken to prevent deception, still the 
spirit of brotherhood animates the workers. In most cases the 
visitor is one of refined instincts, and certainly of religious 
spirit, and while he gives the necessary corporal relief with one 
hand he tries with the other to minister to the spiritual neces- 
sities of the poor. 

Mr. Thomas M. Mulry, the president of tlie St. Vincent de 
Paul Society, has been selected to be the chairman of the next 
annual convention of the State Board of Charities. 

The question that, perhaps, presents most 

The Biblical Com- difficulties on the matter of religion to-day 

misBion. is that of the Bible. Nine years ago Leo 

XIII. issued his encyclical " Providentissi- 
mus Deus," in which he sought to anticipate and to forewarn. 
His latest act, the appointment of a Biblical Commission, is a 
striking evidence of his intimate knowledge of the needs of the 
time, and his unceasing care for the welfare of Christianity. 
Outside the church the true notion of a divinely inspired Bible 
is all but dead. Within the church, while there is ever a voice 
that speaks unerringly in cases of necessity, human knowl- 
edge and learning ever have their play. Criticism, begotten of 
fresh discoveries and new theories, has assumed large and at 
times serious proportions. The naming of this commission is a 
happy recognition of the grave questions which Biblical study 
presents, an emphatic encouragement to Catholics to keep abreast 
of modern science, and a guarantee that scholarship, prudence, 
and kindness are to mark the solution of Scriptural difficulties. 
The commission is to consist of a number of Cardinals, assisted 
by distinguished men of different nationalities noted for their 
Biblical knowledge. A part of the Vatican library has been 
assigned and every assistance promised them by the Holy 
Father. A. P. Doyle. 



»903] The Columbian Reading Union. 567 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

DURING the eighth annual convention of the Federation of Women's Clubs, 
recently held in New York City, there were some stormy scenes and much 
need of parliamentary rules to keep the speakers within the limits of decorum. 
At one stage of the proceedings it was moved that representatives of the press 
be excluded, and the vote was carried. Some who were qualified delegates as 
well as writers for the papers were filled with conflicting emotions, and de- 
parted with the expelled journalists. It was charged also that one of the candi- 
dates for the highest office was defeated by only a few votes on account of her 
religion, after the most hotly contested election on record. The delegates re- 
sponsible for such doings should not be allowed on any future occasion to mis- 
represent the organizations for advancing the true interests of women. 

Ethical culture is often very intangible. The following statement from one 
of its advocates should precipitate a speedy downfall of masculine supremacy : 

**It is woman's own fault that her position in the .world to-day is not so 
high and so privileged as it should be/' said Miss Zona Vallance in the course 
of her lecture on " Women and the Ethical Movement " before the woman's 
conference of the Society for Ethical Culture at Tuxedo Hall, New York City. 

<< As a matter of fact, women, by reason of their sex and the social and 
economic demands its possession entails, have been the heaven-designed 
founders of the ethical culture movement since the days of Eden. But they 
have been disloyal to their prerogatives. They have lagged in the march of 
progress, spiritual and economic. They have been content with the presenta- 
tion of a masculine God, masculine priests and rulers. The idea of power has 
been inalienable from that of brute force. Now that the world is coming 
gradually to some realization of the greatness of intangible things, we may 
hope for a dawn of justice. But it behooves women, all self-respecting women, 
to be found in the vanguard of self-assertion to-day. And this position is not 
unwomanly, but most truly the contrary, because never before has the hand of 
woman been so sorely needed as now in the affairs of the world. 

** So far we have been content with the field of philanthropy. We will be 
untrue to our God-given mission if we halt at the boundaries of the political 
arena. The worship of a high sexless ideal instead of a masculine personality 
cannot fail to elevate and enlarge the whole tone of woman's thought. A non- 
theological view of conduct would strike at the root of the evils in the existing 
economic construction of society." 

In the discussion that followed it was asked if the conception of woman as 
a citizen, in the broadest interpretation of the word, was not the highest that 
could be held. To this Miss Vallance warmly assented, and, in reply to other 
inquiries, said that in addition to her place in the home and the recognition 
accorded to her as a factor in the political world, the woman of ethical culture 
persuasion should bend her energies to the enlightenment of and industrial 
emancipation of women in the busier walks of life. The women*s trade unions 
of England were suggested as worthy of imitation. 



568 THE Columbian Reading Union. [Jan., 1903.] 

The condition of Catholics in the Middle Ages is often misrepresented in 
popular manuals of history. Some very important matters were discussed 
and settled before the sixteenth century. The following brief summary shows 
that it was the Catholic Church by her teaching and legislation which abolished 
slavery in Europe. She began early her labors toward the ultimate extinction 
of slavery, and never let up the constant pressure of her influence till it ceased 
to exist. Evidence of this is found in the canons of the Council of Elvira, in 
305; that of St. Patrick, celebrated in Ireland in 450; that of Agde, in 506; 
of Aries, in 549; of Macon, in 585 ; of Paris, in 614; those of Toledo in 589, 
633, and 675. The second Council of Lyons excommunicated those who en- 
slaved others. A council in 922 declared that he who sold another into slav- 
ery was guilty of homicide. A council in London in 1102 forbade the selling 
of men, and called it an infamous traffic. Pope Gregory XVL published 
apostolic letters against the slave trade. Other councils and legislation might 
be mentioned, but enough has been given to show that the power of the 
church was always exerted against slavery. She was alone in the work in the 

early and Middle Ages. 

» . • • 

Sir Francis Cruise, a distinguished physician of Dublin, has devoted much 
time to the investigation of the authorship of the Imitation of Christ, a book 
written by one who had absorbed the wisdom of Holy Scripture. 

Year after year the holiday excursions of Sir Francis Cruise were directed, 
not to the favorite watering-places and other health resorts in which the pros- 
perous citizen spends his allotted days of retirement from the usual routine of 
his habitual labors, but to the interesting neighborhood in which lived and died 
one of the purest and -noblest sons of the Catholic Church, Thomas a Kempis. 

Some fourteen years ago he collected the results of his investigations in a 
volume which is allowed by even the secular authorities of the press to contain 
all that is likely to be ever known of the career of St. Thomas h Kempis and 
the authorship of the Imitation of Christ. 

It is well known to the reading section of the public that a great deal of 
doubt was attached to this authorship ever since its first appearance. The first 
edition of the collected works of St. Thomas k Kempis was printed, without 
date or name of printer or place of publication, at Utrecht, in the year 
1473, by the famous typographers, Nic. Ketelaer et Ger. de Leempt, and pre- 
sents the very exceptional peculiarity of owing its great attraction to the 
bibliophile to an item which it does not contain — the celebrated De Imitatione 
Christi. There were several editions and translations of the Imitation 
brought out within the next few years with the prefixed name of the famous 
chancellor of the University of Paris, Joannes Gerson. It is, accordingly, no 
wonder that the authorship was a subject of contention. 

But the fallacies have all been clearly' exposed by Sir Francis Cruise; and 
the inhabitants of Kempen, the native town of the true author, have paid the 
Dublin physician the high compliment of calling one of their streets by his 
name. The immediate cause of the conferring of this most exceptional 
honor was the stimulus given to the patriotism of the inhabitants of Kempen by 
the appearance in a German translation of a pamphlet on The Authorship of 
the Imitation of Christ, which was published for Sir Francis Cruise by the 
Catholic Truth Society in 1898. This pamphlet has also appeared in a 
French dress. 



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PUBLISHER'S PAGE. 



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There is not in all America the superior of our advertising pages for 
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Take, for example, some of the advertisers in this present number. The 
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Did Pearline ever fail to do all that James Pyle & Sons claim that it would, or 
is there anything better made for its purpose than Pearline ? What priest or 
layman, young or old, tall or short, lean or stout, but always obtained a good 
fit, and good goods at a reasonable price, from the old and reliable house of 
Rogers, Peet & Co. ? Is there any Typewriter made that is in any manner 
better than the Smith Premier ? Was it evec known that a Packard Piano 
failed to give entire satisfaction? Has Holler's Cod Liver Oil any superior ? 
What woman was ever dissatisfied with Boulevard Velvet, whose wear is guar- 
anteed by the best house in their line? Who has failed to be benefited by the 
use of Hitman's Charcoal Tablets? What railroad superior to the Kew York 
Central ? What schools surpass those mentioned in our pages ? 

The closer the scrutiny, the stricter the investigation, the more firmly is 
our claim for the cleanliness and reliability of our advertising pages demon- 
strated and established. WE THEREFORE REQUEST that each and all of 
you aid us, when in need of anything advertised in our pages, by making inquiry 
of Jour advertisers, and buying from them, for THEY ARE, AS YOU ARE, 
OUR FRIEKDS. 

KEW ADVERTISERS beginning with the number for February: 
Messrs. G. S. Blakeslee & Co. will make their bow to our readers. The 
Dominican Sisters of Saint Clara College, Sinsinawa, Wis., say of this firm's 
goods: "Our Dishwashing Machines are giving satisfaction, and we daily ap- 
preciate more and* more the great saving of labor that is gained by these 
machines. We hope that they may be placed in all the large institutions where 
the washing of dishes is so great a labor." This testimony by those who have 
made the test indicates that it will be well for many of our readers to at least 
make further inquiry regarding this firm's goods. 



J 



Mgr. Falconio, 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



Vol. LXXVI. FEBRUARY, 1903. No. 455. 




OUR NEW APOSTOLIC DELEGATE. 

[IS Excellency Mgr. Diomede Falconio, the newly 
appointed Papal legate to the Church in the 
United States, was bom at Pescocostanzo, in the 
diocese of Monte Cassino, Italy, on the twentieth 
day of September, 1842. Just before his eighteenth 
birthday, on September 2, i860, he entered the Order of Friars 
Minor, or, as they are commonly called, the Franciscans. Having 
been ordained a deacon, he came to America in the month of 
November, 1865, where eventually he was to see many years 
of labor. In January, 1866, he was ordained priest by the 
Right Rev. John Timon, CM., the first Bishop of Buffalo. 
The administrative abilities of the young priest were immediately 
recognized, and the same year he was appointed vice-president 
of Allegany College, of which institution shortly afterwards he 
became president. From that time he successfully occupied 
positions of dignity and responsibility. In response to the invita- 
tion of Bishop Garfug^ini, he accepted the office of Vicar-General 
of the diocese of Harbor Grace, Newfoundland. Shortly after- 
wards, on leaving this country, Mgr. Falconio was made Provincial 
of his own order in Italy, and again, in October, 1889, General 
Procurator of the order. On the 2d of February, 1893, Leo 
XIII. honored him with the Bishopric of Lacedonia, and on 
November 29, 1895, raised him to the archiepiscopal see of 
Acerrenza and Matera. In all these positions Mgr. Falconio, by 
his personal holiness, his practical wisdom and ability to govern, 

Thk Missionary Society op St. Paul the Apostle in the Statb 

OP New York, 1903. 
YOls. LXXVI.— 37 



570 Our New Apostolic Delegate, [Feb., 

showed himself worthy and capable. The Supreme Pontiff, on 
the 22d of August, 1899, appointed him as Apostolic Delegate 
to the church in Canada. He held that office until last year, 
giving additional proof of his fitness as an administrator and a 
representative of the Holy Father, endearing himself to all with 
whom be came in contact, and advancing the welfare of the 
Catholic Church throughout the Dominion. Just before he left 
Ottawa a public reception was tendered him by the Knights of 
Columbus. His departure from Canada elicited from the whole 
city sentiments of regret as well as of appreciation of his good 
work. 

Last year he was appointed Apostolic Delegate to the Church 
in our own country. He is not a stranger among us, as the 
record of his life shows. His many years of experience in this 
country, where he began his priestly labors, have given him the 
most thorough knowledge of its people, their aims and their 
hopes. His work has included both the academic sphere of the 
school and the practical sphere of the public ministry. His 
knowledge, therefore, has the value then of being not alone 
theoretical but also experimental. For one who is to govern 
successfully and to the best advantage the church in the 
United States as an Apostolic Delegate there are needed an inti- 
mate knowledge and the sympathetic insight. And because Mgr. 
Falconio has had peculiar advantages in obtaining both, we feel 
that his work will be a potent factor in the continued progress 
of the Catholic Church in the United States. From the first 
years of his residence he gave evidence of his sincere love for 
our country. He is indeed a citizen of the United States, and 
his appointment is considered a mark of the highest esteem for 
our government, since he is perhaps the only churchman in the 
diplomatic service of the Pope who is an American citizen. He 
was naturalized in 1864, voted for General Grant in 1872, and 
received from that President a photograph which he still 
treasures. 

The repeated evidences of his ability in the past in posts 
that were difficult to fill give us every warrant for his success 
here. The best wishes of the American Catholics are with him 
that his efforts may be crowned with all success, and that his 
work may advance the honor and glory of the church which he 
represents. 



1903.] Saint Chantal. 571 




SAINT CHANTAL: A TYPE OF CHRISTIAN WOMANHOOD.* 

BY REV. JOSEPH McSORLEY, C.S.P. 

^MID the difficulties weighing heavily upon us now- 
adays we receive comfort and inspiration from 
the remembrance of those great renewals which 
have sometimes come to arouse souls from slum- 
ber and to save religion from decay. One such 
is that of three centuries ago, — perhaps the most significant in 
history, — when the stirring of God's spirit awakened so vast a 
host of saints and heroes that the age which had set in hope- 
less gloom under the menace of a general European apostasy 
gave place to the rising of a splendid dawn in whose brightness 
the church stepped forth to combat with renewed strength, to 
resist, to check, and to beat back the destroying hordes that 
had swept in upon her with a violence as much more dreadful 
than the barbarians' as the treachery of unnatural children is 
more fearful than the invasion of foreign foes. 

A famous essayht has indicated with what astonishment 
the student comes upon this story of rejuvenescence; the 
Catholic sees in it but another record of God's careful dealing 
with his church, something quite in accord with what faith has 
learned to anticipate. To-day that memory lends us heart and 
hope to look for greater things still, to believe that the epoch 
we are now confronting is to be inundated with the inflow of 
God's infinite love, is to be succeeded by a period of triumph 
more glorious than the ages of faith, as these in turn were 
better than the timid days when Christianity hesitated, with a 
first trembling step, upon the threshold of the pagan world. 
It nerves us thus to look back over the course of history and 
to number the miracles of grace strewn along the centuries — so 
many evidences of divine favor — and to see how God's touch 

transforms threatening shadows into luminous veils, helping to 

» 

reveal His care and love. 

The dark places in our way are illumined even to-day by 
the great light sprung up from holy men and women and noble 

* St. Chantal and the Foundation of the Visitation, By Monseigneur Bougaud, Bishop of 
Laval. Translated from the eleventh Fiench edition by a Visitandine. With a preface by his 
Eminence Cardinal Gibbons. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benziger Brothers. 2 
vols. Pp. 477 — 460, 



572 Saint Chantal: [Feb., 

deeds in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. St. Charles 
and St. Philip, St. Ignatius and St. Teresa, St. Francis, St. 
Chantal, and St. Vincent, yet speak to us, and teach us to trust 
in the God who can, if he will, raise up their equals from the 
very stones. And anxious to see our own age quickened with 
the same divine breath of faith and goodness, we turn feverishly 
to study the past and to discover what means Heaven then 
made use of to renew the face of the earth. 

A long study it must be, if completed, for it has to cany 
us over the whole range of Christian virtues, into every condi- 
tion and every need of Christian life. Schools and missions and 
monasteries; great preachers, great penitents, great catechists, 
and great confessors ; saints who dwell in cloisters, and saints 
who visit the poor, and saints who nurse the sick ; nobles and 
peasants, young and old, men and maids and widows, clerics, 
religious, and layfolk, — it is a surging sea of love and sacrifice. 
Over against the kingdom of evil is set the kingdom of Christ, 
the undaunted fellowship of the Cross, if not to conquer finally, 
at least to face the mad onrush of sin, to stop and stay and 
turn the leaping tide that bears down upon the world as if to 
engulf it pitilessly and for ever. 

There are many types to choose from if we seek a patron 
or a model in the persons who graced the church within the 
hundred years following the birth of Protestantism. The present 
moment seems opportune for a mention of one of them — St 
Jane Francis de Chantal, for as we read her life precious les- 
sons unfold before us like odorous blossoms on their native 
stem. Very recently there has been published a new edition of 
Mgr. Bougaud's St, Chantal — a book which for literary grace, 
scholarly finish, honest, judicious, and thorough revelation of 
fact, seems to be all that readers could desire. It is a volume 
alive with inspiration, one to encourage the weak and to stimu- 
late the strong, one that instructs and uplifts and edifies ; while 
at the same time it is a work of art pleasing eye and mind and 
heart alike, satisfying as few books have done both our longing 
for spiritual refreshment and our sense of the fitness of things. 
No better excuse for a comment upon it would be needed than 
the hope of increasing the number of those who are indebted 
to it for a renewal of light and strength. 

For another reason, too, attention may fittingly be directed 
to St. Chantal at this present hour. Never before, even in the 
ages of chivalry, has woman occupied so great a place in the 



I903-] A Type of Christian Womanhood. 573 

public eye or appropriated so large a share of public concerq 
as now, when, without relinquishing her traditional titles to 
esteem, she has acquired many new ones. Scientifically, academi- 
cally, commercially, socially — as maid, as wife, as mother — be- 
fore university faculties and before courts of law, everywhere 
and in every way she is engaging thought and presenting cre- 
dentials that force acknowledgment of her importance. If in- 
deed we stand upon the threshold of a new civilization wherein 
man's boldest and holiest hopes are to find a larger measure of 
realization ; and if religion is still to assert its claim powerfully 
to mould and sway the general mind and will; and if nowhere 
better than in woman's soul are humanity's ideals safely en- 
shrined, then truly is it of supreme importance that there should 
never fade from memory the vision of those valiant women of his- 
tory in whom the perfect Christian character stands forth personified. 

If religion is to grow young again, it must be with woman's 
aid. If ages yet unborn are to reveal new mysteries of de- 
votedness and fidelity, and deeper knowledge and purer love 
are to be g^ven to God by a future race welded together in 
unity of belief and service; if man's upward growth is to con- 
tinue itself in the things of the spirit too, and God's dear- 
est plan to be fully realized; if all this is more than a sense- 
less dream, then, as a necessary condition to its fulfilment, 
must woman thrill to her inmost being with an appreciation of 
the spiritual significance of Christianity to her. To her, more 
than to any other, must religious frivolousness seem intolerable. 
A deep, heart-quaking sense of God ; an intimate and affec- 
tionate personal acquaintance with Jesus Christ, his character 
and his thoughts; a vital grasp upon the truths he came to 
tell and to die for ; a sublimely heroic practice of those virtues 
which Christianity has ever extolled and cultivated with pecu- 
liar care, — these, if the world is to be saved, must be infused 
into the mothers and teachers and sisters and wives of the 
generations to come. In the souls of their women do we find 
the measure of a people's moral nobleness ; make them truly 
spiritual, and real degradation remains unknown. 

As a type of Christian womanhood, St. Chantal challenges 
our attention most. That she embraced the religious state and 
organized a community ; that she drew up rules and founded 
convents and governed provinces ; that during long years she 
commanded and obeyed with equal distinction ; that miracles 
were wrought through her; that her fame spread abroad, and 



574 Saint Chantal: [Feb., 

that at last her name was graven on the Calendar of Saints, — 
these are special manifestations of momentous significance in- 
deed, but of less world-wide interest by far than the more 
fundamental characteristics which span the broadest intervals of 
space and time and link her with each of those who tread the 
way of the perfect, and make her a model for all whose lives 
flower in one great effort to realize the noblest feminine possi- 
bilities. She passed her days in varied fields of activity, and 
in each of them shone brilliantly. By turns she was maid, 
wife, widow, and religious — an image of the Christian ideal of 
each. Few, therefore, can excuse themselves from concern or 
imitation on the plea of lacking the bond of any common voca- 
tion or responsibilities. As a young girl in society, as mistress of 
a household, as a wife, as a nun, St. Chantal rises before us the 
vision of what women should ever be under pain of abandoning 
for ever that crown of glory prepared for them by the Creator 
when he made the thirst for perfection so peculiarly their own. 

St. Chantal is a lesson to her sisters of all time, because 
what the Kingdom of Christ will ever be calling for is women 
who are clear in judgment and strong in will; who fix their 
ambition immovably upon lofty ideals and yet are never un- 
faithful to daily routine; whose meekness is thorough, whose 
penance is practical and docile, whose generosity with Jesus 
Christ can be surpassed by no sacrifice a woman has ever made 
for the sake of one she loved. 

The first convent of the Visitation presents a scene of 
peculiar and impressive beauty. It is not because of having 
abandoned home and friends that these nuns remain graven for 
ever in the memory of Christian women, for most of these lat- 
ter have been destined for a station within the arena of human 
interests and cares and strifes. What impresses us as we read 
is the display of that same singleness of purpose and generos- 
ity of spirit which must penetrate the maidens and wives of 
this modern world if, under Christ's magic touch, it is some day 
to blossom like the rose. This is why we look so reverently 
upon the vision that rises out of the shadowy history of seven- 
teenth century France when we reach the story of the Visita- 
tion. We behold young women of noble birth, the petted chil- 
dren of fond parents, spoiled favorites of society, hurrying at 
the divine invitation to exchange luxury and honors for the 
poverty and obscurity of the cloister. It is no new scene of 
course, for never have beauty, wealth, and noble names been 



1903.] A Type of Christian Womanhood. 575 

absent from the offerings laid upon the altar of Christ's love. 
Yet these sacrifices seem to recur with unusual persistence in 
pages which tell of the epoch when France was expiating in- 
glorious weakness by the surrender of its best and fairest, and 
nurturing with its .very heart's blood the rising homes of 
Visitandines, Carmelites, Ursulines, and Poor Clares. Among 
the first fruits of St. Chantal's mission we find many a notable 
instance: Marie- Aim^e de Blonay, daughter of one of the 
patriarchal families of France, intellectual, brilliant, studious, 
gifted with rare business ability; Marie- Jacqueline Favre, beau- 
tiful, high-spirited, intelligent, a charming dancer and devoted 
to amusement; Marie-Peronne de Chatel, young, handsome, 
skilful at music and verse-making, a fine conversationalist, an 
exquisite singer of her own ballads and roundels, and the fian- 
cee of a most estimable young nobleman. There were many 
like these among the first Visitandines, and near them others of 
very different origin, such as Anne-Jacqueline Coste, first a 
shepherdess and then a domestic, and Sister Simplicienne, a 
peasant girl who could neither read nor write. Here are white- 
haired widows beside young maidens scarcely more than chil- 
dren; innocently ignorant souls alongside those who have felt 
and shrunk away from the fierce blast of temptation. Gathered 
together into a group possessed of but a single mind and heart, 
and devoted to the pursuit of perfection, these women form a 
picture typically Catholic, visible nowhere else except in that 
church whose mission it is to spread the teachings of Christ 
and to keep his spirit alive in all places and ranks until the end 
of time. One and all have felt their souls flame up in holy 
resolve. They are valiant women, with a temper such as 
heroes have, and only in the permanence of their spirit lies the 
hope of the Christian Church. 

Led by the dauntless St. Chantal, the band of elect souls 
began that splendid history whose sequence is the life of the 
Visitation. Their galaxy shone with its own bright peculiar glow 
even in the star-studded firmament that hung over the world 
in the age when they first arose. Under the moulding hands of 
two saints the new institute grew and developed, and finally 
took on those characteristics which mark its special place in 
the ranks of religious congregations. Less stern, yet no less 
devoted than other rules, the Visitandine observance called for 
exactly that combination of meekness and strength which those 
who first drew to it were so conspicuously capable of offering; 



576 SAINT CHANTAL: [Feb., 

their rule seemed to be made for them and they seemed to be 
made for it. 

Yet we should misinterpret them if we presumed that their 
significance began and ended with their fidelity to the particu- 
lar details of their personal vocations. Assuredly, had they been 
called to other stations in life they would have displayed the 
same earnestness, the same unselfishness, the same quenchless 
yearning for high and holy things, — though altered in form and 
expression. Otherwise they would not be speaking so effectively 
now to the hearts of later generations. But as it is, readers 
who are in religion may imitate St. Chantal's observance of rule ; 
readers who are in the world may act as she would act in a 
like position. It would not be unprofitable, indeed, were each 
reader of this biography to attempt to study out the hypotheti- 
cal conduct of the saint if transferred to the present day and to 
the condition of a normal Christian woman in the world. Cer- 
tainly she would be punctual at Holy Mass and frequent at the 
Sacraments, well versed by meditative study in the story of 
Christ's life and in the secrets of his teaching, kindly and meek 
in thought, unselfish, considerate, beneficent in deed — or at 
least striving for all this, and quickly rising from each failure to 
renew with eagerness the struggle for that perfect knowledge 
and love which bind the human soul to its divine Spouse. 
There are more possibilities in a great character than can be 
realized in the few years of a mortal life, and the reader who 
learns something of the character of St. Chantal from this book 
will be able to interpret her mind successfully and to be en- 
lightened upon questions which the saint herself perhaps never 
actually faced. 

What an inspiration, then, is the life of this valiant woman ! 
— an inspiration far broader in its reach than the suggestion to 
embrace a particular state of life or to observe a special form 
of religious rule, an inspiration impelling souls to strive for 
perfection in whatever conditions they find themselves to be, 
and to believe that no detail of existence — poverty or wealth, 
leisure or occupation, social prominence or obscurity, a disposi- 
tion studious, or gay, or artistic — can be a real obstacle to a 
soul set on fire by the contact of the Holy Spirit and consumed 
with ardent love for Christ. 

Probably few religious-minded women grow to maturity 
without at some moment or other entering into debate as to 
the possibility of their being destined for the habit of a nun; 



1903.] A TYPE OF Christian Womanhood. $77 

yet in the providence of God the vast majority are to serve 
Him best and to attain their fullest perfection outside the con- 
vent's shelter. It would be a serious mischance, therefore, were 
the significance of St Chantal's life so unduly narrowed as to 
be limited in application to those who are summoned to 
abandon home and friends and go into the desert As re- 
ligious the first Visitandines will remain models for ever; but 
they have further value too, because they, and in particular 
their foundress, seem to appeal with unusual directness to 
Christian women in the world, whether meek or spirited, 
whether fired with great ambitions or bowed under discourage- 
ment, whether active, impulsive, and practical in bent, or 
dreamy, poetical, and mystic. For what all of them need is a 
persistent stimulus to dare spiritual achievement, an incentive 
to direct Godward that great surging tide of love which sweeps 
in and bears them away from the things of self and rolls 
on furiously until it encounters some object on which to expend 
its mighty force. They want to be taught to join strength 
with sweetness, to set constancy above emotion, to wait and 
suffer and die in the interests of a divine, as they know so well 
how to do in the interests of a human affection. Compara- 
tively it is a trifling thing whether God be worshipped in 
this state of life or in that, so long as He is worshipped as He 
Himself wishes. It is all- important to appreciate this, other- 
wise the call to be perfect may come to be regarded as an ex- 
clusive attribute of one single sphere of Christian life ; whereas, 
in truth, the vocation to love and serve God unto perfection is 
the prerogative of every soul born into the world, and its surest 
way of answering that call is to sanctify those duties which 
spring from the providential circumstances of its state. Some- 
how, St Chantal seems like one apt to understand and sympathize 
with those cravings for perfection so often experienced, and so 
often, alas ! misunderstood or distrusted by those whose lot is 
cast in the great tumult of the world. Long before dreaming 
of her own vocation to the convent she had yielded to the 
torment of this soul- hunger, and begun to shape her conduct so 
as to develop spiritual faculties and make herself more capable 
of receiving God. Meanwhile, she remained always practical, 
always energetic, always firm, ever attentive to minor domestic 
duties, ever devoted to the care of her children. Would not 
such a one be quick to perceive and to foster the first timid 
yearning of a soul for the sacred privileges of divine intimacy ? 



578 Saint Chantal. [Feb., 

Could she be aught but solicitous to nurse the faint stirrings of 
flame in the smoking flax ? or other than wise to direct by- 
practicable and reasonable suggestions those souls whose aspira- 
tions for perfection must be fulfilled, if at all, only in the way 
that is possible for dwellers in the world ? 

Why it happens that St. Chantal appears under this aspect 
it would not be easy to say. Perhaps because she was so true 
a reflex of that saint whose broad conception of piety has 
wrought the perfecting of a multitude of souls, and whose en- 
couraging doctrine on the spiritual possibilities of women in the 
world was the burden of many a discourse and many a letter. 
Or perhaps because her skilled biographer has seized this point 
and quietly impressed it upon the reader's mind without mani- 
festing his purpose. However it has come about, assuredly it 
is providential in its aptness. Religious have so many books, 
so much encouragement and incentive, so many models; where- 
as those outside are in an almost acute need of being fre- 
quently and emphatically reminded of their splendid possibili- 
ties. And in some sort the present biography appears like a 
heavenly message to this effect, proclaiming that whatever their 
circumstances may be they are under the stress of a divine 
vocation and summoned to tread the paths of the perfect. St. 
Chantal is revealed as a character so sensible, so human, so 
experienced ; her views of devotion are shown to be at once 
so broad and so fervent, so stable and so flexible; her meek- 
ness is so constant, her sympathy so deep, her friendship so 
true and tender, that none with a truly human spirit can feel 
alien to her. 

The republishing of this book, therefore, is a deed worthy of 
profound gratitude; and a well-grounded hope bids us expect 
from it a mighty inspiration to Christian women, that, feeling 
the gentle breathing of the Spirit, they may awaken to a new 
sense of their divinely given rights and privileges, and bending 
in good earnest to the cultivation of these, may help to set the 
gleaming crown of a spirit made perfect on the brow of a race 
reborn. Then shall we understand the divine mission of the 
gracious figure that started forth from the shadows of heathen- 
dom at Christ's word to move above and before humanity's 
onward march — the Christian woman, a visioned pledge of all 
things lovely and sacred and of good report that man may 
hope for while the invisible Kingdom of God is still unwon. 



1903.] A Study of the Child. 579 




A STUDY OF THE CHILD.* 

BY S. M. J. 

i£)RE Bremond has undertaken to plead a cause, 
and he opens the case by marshalling to the 
front a series of illustrious witnesses : a French 
archbishop and an English cardinal ; a famous 
Frenchwoman, queen in all but name, and a 
famous Englishwoman, the acknowledged queen of poets ; noveU 
ists and philosophers; idealists and realists; men and women 
of the most varied character and condition in life, dissimilar in 
many ways but at one in the cause which Fere Bremond has at 
heart. In the face of such testimony the judgment of the 
court of public opinion, in which the case is even now being 
tried, is a foregone conclusion. 

L'Enfant et la Vie! The child and its preparation for life! 
On whom does the chief responsibility rest? How is the work 
to be successfully carried out ? Many a pamphlet, many a book, 
has already gone forth in answer to these vital questions. 
Many a life has been devoted to the solution of this problem. 
Has it been satisfactorily solved ? Or does it remain for the 
twentieth century to grasp the true principle underlying its 
solution, and carefully, patiently to work it out ? ** Yes," and 
" No." From the days of the sainted monk of Jarrow to those 
of Brother Azarias, there have been men and women thoroughly 
imbued with the true spirit of Christian education, and to-day 
they are not found wanting. But not less is it true that to- 
day, as in past ages, the young are but too frequently the vic- 
tims of culpable ignorance, or misguided zeal^ on the part of 
parent or professor, or both. 

Fere Bremond has certainly made a singularly original and 
powerful appeal on behalf of the child. He has done more : 
he has thrown open the vast portals of human intelligence, and 
brought his readers face to face with great minds. As we turn 
over the leaves of his book, we are at first perplexed, then 
fascinated, then astonished, then convinced, and lastly filled 

* L Enfant et la VU. By Henri Bremond. Paris : Victor Retaux, 82 Rue Bonaparte. 



58o A Study of the Child. [Feb., 

with enthusiasm. We lay the book down and take it up again ; 
not lightly, carelessly, but thoughtfully, reverently; not as a 
thing, but as a person, a friend ; nay, it is to us as many 
friends; some we have long known and loved; others are in- 
troduced to us by P^re Bremond, and they come with the 
charm of those in whom at the first glance we recognize the 
gift of God — Madame Julie Lavergne, for example. P^re Bre- 
mond pronounces her name with an unmistakably warm accent. 
We at once divine her exceptional worth, and gradually per- 
ceive in her the realization of an ideal wife and mother. *' Her 
children rose up and called her blessed; her husband, and he 
praised her." We are resolved to become better acquainted 
with her. 

From the story of Madame Lavergne's life and works, the 
author passes to the general consideration of the mother's influ- 
ence on the literary formation of the child. There is no deny- 
ing his proofs positive that the mother gives the bent to the 
child's literary tastes, and that, in a certain sense, no professor 
can supply what she may have failed to bestow. Not all 
mothers, however, can read their babes to sleep to the musical 
numbers of a great poet, as did Madame de Maistre, whose 
famous son thence came to style Racine " sa sublime mere." 
But P^re Bremond would have all mothers so penetrated with 
the love of things beautiful as to transmit this taste to their 
children. " II suffit d'etre penetre du gout de belles choses, 
pour imprimer le meme gout a vos enfants par une douce et 
irresistible contagion" (p. 103). 

An admirable chapter on the Priest as Professor of Litera- 
ture closes the first part of the book, leaving on the reader's 
mind an impression of the truth of St. Jerome's saying: "Car- 
men pertinet ad sanctos." Part Second deals with the develop- 
ment in children of the " Religious sense." An entire chapter 
is devoted to the preaching of Arnold of Rugby; another to 
M. Louis Dimier's Romance of a Collegian — La Souriciere. The 
pictures painted, whether at Rugby or in Paris, are well worth 
attention. Pere Bremond's notes and comments on them are 
even more suggestive. 

The main body of the book thus consists of two parts, with 
three chapters in each. But not a word of the Avant-propos, 
or of the Preface, or of the Introduction should be passed over 
lightly. The Appendix shows how familiar the author is with 



1903.] A Study of the Child. 581 

the cream of educational literature, secular as well as religious, 
Protestant as well as Catholic. It is a long step from the 
young monk of Bee, whose abb^ was " lectioni deditus, tem- 
poris parcissimus, rigidus disciplini zelator,'' and, worse still 
(as the old chronicler puts it), "puerorum adolescentium plane 
incuriosus" (p. 143), to the Anglican minister who so dearly 
loved children that the thought of them '' ne le quittait pas 
quand il ^crivait, ni quand il pr^chait," even giving " une 
couleur sp^ciale a ses prieres" (p. 259). But the same funda- 
mental thought which, in the opening chapters, serves to con- 
nect so many apparently diverse ideas, preserves throughout its 
unifying and harmonizing power, and keeps us to the very end 
of the book under the sway of the author's brilliant conception 
and admirable execution. 

As to adverse criticism: Some Frenchmen may point out 
that overmuch space is allowed to English views; some Catho- 
lics, that overmuch weight is attached to the opinions of the 
heterodox. But in the cause of education are not Arnold of 
Rugby and Ihring of Uppingham names to conjure with ? And 
now, as in the Master's day, are not the children of this world 
at times " wiser in their generation than the children of light " ? 
Do not the beautiful books of Mother Loyola of York enjoy 
too solitary a distinction among Catholic works for children? 
At the same time the fact is to be emphasized that no mental 
-or moral gifts, however great, can supply the lack of the true 
-faith; no religious exercises, however attractive or well organ- 
ized, take the place of the Sacraments and Sacrifice of the 
Catholic Church ; no merely human influence, however high and 
holy, be for one moment comparable to the grace and love of 
•our Lord Jesus Christ. Pere Bremond insists on these facts. 

"God speed," then, to V Enfant et la Vie! Let the book 
:go on its way, and find a home in every library. We extend 
our regrets to those whose imperfect knowledge of French will 
not permit them to appreciate and enjoy the author's singularly 
-clear and flowing idiom; and we trust that, for their sakes, a 
judicious translation, or, better still, what Pere Bremond him- 
self styles '' Un travail de libre imitation et d'adaptation per- 
sonelle" (p. 278), maybe undertaken by competent hands. As 
a specimen of such a work, we subjoin a free translation and 
adaptation of some notable passages : 

"There is a certain quality of the imagination which pro- 



582 A Study of the Child. [Feb., 

perly belongs to childhood. One ought never to lose it." This 
saying of Doudan's is applicable to all classes of persons; it is 
more especially true of those devoted to the education of chil- 
dren. — A vanUpropos, 

What, then, is education? It is the breathing in by the 
child of the moral atmosphere surrounding him ; not the formal 
lesson, or the official counsel of his elders; but the unthinking 
word, the involuntary gesture, by which they unconsciously re- 
veal to him their innermost thoughts. — Preface. 

"To my mind," says Boudrillart, "the home is the only 
school in which to learn the existence of the golden mean be> 
tween the false ideals and barren realities of life; there only is 
acquired that practical view of life which is sometimes lacking 
to a younger generation brought up in the midst of pleasures 
and satisfactions of every kind, without at the same time ex- 
periencing the trials and disappointments which counterpoise 
them" (p. xxiii.) 

"It is no doubt the professor's function to develop the 
mathematician, the chemist; but the man, that is the moral life 
in man, is perhaps formed before ten years of age; and if this 
life has not acquired its form at his mother's knee, it will be a 
great misfortune. If, however, the mother, as is her duty, has 
stamped on the forehead of her child a divine character, it is 
almost, certain that the touch of vice can never wholly efface it. 
The youth may, without doubt, slip aside from the straight 
path ; but he will describe, so to speak, a curve which will 
eventually bring him back to the starting point." — Joseph de 
Maistre^ quoted on /. xxxvi. 

St. Francis of Sales is the patron of story-tellers. " He 
used to compose little stories for recreation," as St. Jane 
Frances de Chantal testified during the process of his beatifica- 
tion. A little story ! Do you know of anything more charm- 
ing ? Is there in all literature a more fascinating career than 
that of the maker of stories ? To clothe one's cherished ideas, 
forgotten or opposed by others, in flesh and blood; to bring 
them forward through the development of a simple plot; to 
lead them by mysterious paths to the very gates of the unsus- 
pecting, and perhaps rebellious, human mind ; or, without a hint 
of motive or of purpose, to confide our dearest memories to a 
personage of our own creation, and thus cause admirers of him, 
or her, to fall in love with our own ideals ; to amuse little chil- 



1903.] A Study of the Child. 583 

dren by the story of strange adventures; to distract the mind, 
calm the feelings, or console the heart of the grown-up children 
which, thanks to the spiritual transformation brought about by 
the sorrows and banalities of life, we all remain ; these are the 
privileges of the maker of stories (p. 36). 

Madame Lavergne was an incomparable mother. In her 
maidenhood she had been impressed by the words of St. Paul : 
^' The mother shall be saved by the children she brings into the 
world." So, after the birth of her eighth child, she could write : 
''The number of these little pensioners of the good God does 
not alarm us. He is rich enough to provide for them, wise and 
good enough to keep them in the right path ; moreover, who 
knows but that He may do us the honor to choose one or 
other of them for his special service?" (p. 43). 

Madame Lavergne passed the first seven and twenty years of 
married life in the ordinary occupations of a good, sensible 
wife and mother. Many a young girl, no doubt, whose head has 
been filled with romantic notions, will find such a life very com- 
monplace, very far from her ideal. Now I think that, on the 
contrary, those uneventful days of household accounts, business 
letters, and the care of children, were steeped in the truest 
poetry and laid the foundations of a literary work which would 
have been less exquisite if it had not clung with the deepest of 
roots to those early days of simple devotion to duty, of labor 
and of prayer (p. 45). 

Many look upon poetry as a luxurious sort of occupation, the 
charm, or the pride, of hours of sentittientality and reverie. 
Misunderstanding it thus, and disfiguring it, they either laud it 
to the skies in the simplicity of their enthusiasm, or drag it to 
the ground in the name of common sense. True poetry is 
something more solid. With feet always firmly fixed on the 
earth, its glance is upward and inward ; it is always in touch 
with the real; nay, more, it is itself the real, not as viewed 
with disdain by an indifferent or careless passer-by, but trans- 
figured in the heart of a lover. Bending over the real with a 
tender and benevolent curiosity, the poet perceives what there 
is profoundly human beneath the thick, rough outer covering of 
things ; and, at the same time, divines and pays homage to the 
invisible presence of God, so good, who has chosen every crea- 
ture as the temple and the symbol of his own beauty. To 
interest one's self thus in all things which lie in our path ; to 



584 A STUDY OF THE CHILD. [Feb. 

see first, and - through all, the soul, always attractive in its 
essence; to read in that scut God's tender ways, — this is the 
secret of poetry, above all of that poetry in action, the most 
beautiful of all, which we name "Charity." While artists are 
translating into verse, or on canvas, the impressions they receive 
from the realities of life thus transformed, there are charming 
souls who express an emotion analogous, but purer and more 
sincere, by the smile on thetr lip, the gentleness of their glance, 
the tender forethought of their daily acts (p. 46). 

" There is one thing wanting to you, my child," said the 
priest, " and up to this time it has not entered into your reli- 
gion. It is the understanding of the friendship of Jesus 
Christ. . . . Jesus Christ is man, just as you yourself are; 
you have a right to speak to Him, to unburden your mind to 
Him, to talk with Him at length, importunately, on trivial mat- 
ters even, just as you would talk with other men. . . . For 
all that He is really God, He has lost nothing of His manhood. 
Everything that, in any human being, would reassure you, win 
your affection, dispel your fears, encourage your confidence, 
you will find in Jesus ; and you will find it in so exquisite and 
perfect a manner, that the mere thought of it id enough to 
bring tears to the eyes. What is there human that is not in 
Him, except sin — the only thing that one never has wanted to 
share with one's friends, the only utterly useless evil, which 
adds nothing to human nature P . . . No, Alex, you have 
no conception who Jesus is, for you think to possess Him only 
in heaven. It rests with you, my child, to draw close to Him 
on earth" (p. 237). 

Triiaty Catltgt, WaskMgiait, D. C. 



The Tasso Oak at San Onofrio. 

TASSO AND THE CHURCH OF SAN ONOFRIO. 

BY GEORGINA PELL CURTIS. 

IN the region of Trastevere, on the Janiculum hill, 
to the right of the Lungara, stands the Hterony- 
mite Monastery of San Onofrio. Its exterior is 
small and plain, and the garden is now neglected, 
damp, and marshy. Seventy-five years after 
Raphael's death it was the scene of the last illness and demise 
of one of Italy's greatest poets. 

Then, as now, it was chiefly celebrated for its magnificent 
view of Rome and the surrounding country. Standing on its 
terrace you can see the enormous dome of the Vatican, and the 
city bounded by the Pincian Hill and the Capitol. The Tiber, in 
its deep bed, is plainly visible flowing under its bridges ; while 
here and there are ruins on its banks, and spreading out on 
either side of the river is the Palatine Mount. Further east the 
white convent walls, dark cypress-trees, and pale green olive 
orchards, with over all the blue Italian sky, make a charming 
VOL. LXXVI. — 38 



586 Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio. [Feb., 

picture, especially when the rising sun mantles everything in 
robes of flame-color and gold. 

In the garden still stands the oak-tree planted by the poet, 
and the whole place breathes of quiet and peace. Inside the 
monastery there is a fresco, the only one in Rome painted 
by Leonardo da Vinci, and in its portico are paintings by 
Domenichino and Pinturicchio. The convent also has many 
memories of St. Philip Neri, who frequently came there. 

In olden times it was far from the streets and thoroughfares, 
and many cardinals and princes sought it for rest and repose 
when wearied by the cares of the world. In his later days, the 
poet with whose memory San Onofrio will ever be associated 
says — speaking of his first Communion — " I now feel confident 
that I then received into this earthly body of mine the Son of 
God, who deigned to show me the marvels of His working be- 
cause He beheld me receive them, i. ^., the Elements, into a 
dwelling place yet uncontaminated, simple and pure." 

Throughout his whole subsequent career, when sorrow, disap- 
pointment, and human sin darkened his life, this faith remained 
triumphant. It shines forth in his poetry and in his conversa- 
tion, perhaps at times less clear than at others, but in the end 
the flame burned with renewed purity and truth, illuminating 
the last days of one whose poetry was as united and harmonious 
as his life was broken and incomplete. 

Torquato Tasso was born in Sorrento on the nth of March, 
1544. He was educated at Naples and Rome, and later at 
Bologna and Padua ; but he always regarded Bergamo as his 
real country, as his father was born there and the elder branches 
of the family lived there. 

The records of his ancestors reach back to the twelfth cen- 
tury, and his father before him was a poet of considerable 
talent. Italy at that period was made up of a number of smalt 
Italian courts that vied with each other in splendor and cultiva- 
tion. Each prince endeavored to have the wittiest and cleverest 
men attached to his court. Conspicuous among these princes 
were the Dukes of Urbino and Ferrara. The d'Este of Ferrara 
were the most powerful family in Italy, and of the noblest 
blood in Europe. They owned territory that stretched from 
the Adriatic to the Gulf of Genoa, and at that time were at 
the height of their grandeur and renown. In later years these 
two courts exercised a dominant influence over Tasso's life. 



1903.] TAS50 AND THE CHURCH OF SAJV ONOFRIO. 587 



Cloistbis op the 

The scholars and literary characters who filled Rome under 
Pope Leo X. were scattered by the invasion of the imperial 
army under Bourbon. They gradually rettirned, until in the 
time of Paul III. and Julius III. schools of painting, sculpture, 
philosophy, and classic and polite literature, were reopened. 
Tasso, then twelve years old, was instructed by Maurice Cataneo, 
an eminent scholar, soldier, and gentleman. St. Charles Bor- 
romeo at the same time was laboring to reawaken religion in 
Italy, and there is no doubt that the young Torquato heard 
his sermons and was influenced by them. 

His father tried unsuccessfully to make him a lawyer, and 
sent him to Padua, supposedly to study law. After being there 
a year he produced an epic poem, the " Rinaldo." Of this 
poem Serassi says that " the ' Odyssey ' is called by Longinus 
the production of age, but of the age of Homer," and that "the 
' Rinaldo ' is the production of youth, but that youth Tasso's." 
He was only eighteen when this poem was written. 

In 1562 he went to the University of Bologna. Two years 
before, Bologna, which had fallen into decay, was restored by 



S88 Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio. [Feb . 

Cesi, Bishop of Narni, who was appointed governor by Pope 
Pius IV. The schools and college buildings were rebuilt on 
a magnificent scale, and the best teachers and professors were 
engaged. Here Tasso formed many friendships, among others 
with Francesco Maria, son of the Duke of Urbino, who always 
remained loyal to him, and later did most to aid Tasso in his 
misfortunes. 

While at Bologna Tasso commenced his beautiful epic poem, 
''Jerusalem Delivered." Even at this early age there are 
traces in Tasso of his realization of the emptiness of life ; he 
speaks of his soul as being '' sent to sojourn as a pilgrim in 
his body." 

At twenty he is described as being " tall, strong, and active ; 
of stately carriage ; a little near-sighted ; but of. a grave and 
melancholy beauty. He excelled in warlike and knightly exer- 
cises ; and knew all the learning of his age. At times he was 
taciturn and gloomy, and of an absent mind; but he. could 
also be brilliant and charming both in manner and eloquence. 
He early acquired a high reputation for honor and genius. By 
birth he was noble, and in person most fascinating." 

In 1565 Tasso went to the court of Ferrara to enter the 
service of the Cardinal Luigi d'Este. Here he met with his 
unrivalled success as a poet, as well as his greatest oppression 
and affliction as a man. 

From this time began his courtier life and dependence on 
princes. It is no reflection on Tasso's character that it was so. 
The custom of the age was for the great princes to have a 
train of men attached to their court of varied accomplishments 
and wit. They were supported by the favor and gifts of these 
princes, and in return contributed to the splendor and amuse- 
ment of their courts. 

There was less individual independence in those days than 
now, and perhaps, also, as a rule, less poverty among people 
of refined birth. Tasso, who was industrious, truthful, sincere, 
and charitable, was also courteous, obliging, and kind-hearted 
to all. He was always graceful and particular in his dress, and 
excelled in sport and knightly exercises. He sang well, and 
was simple and humble in discussion ; of deep religious faith, 
and open to correction. With such a character and personality, 
and with his gifts, he should have been a successful man; but 
it was only for a time that fortune shone on him. Instead of 



1903.] Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio. 589 

success his life was one long tale of disappointment, imprison- 
ment, and suffering. Most writers are agreed that this was 
because of his unfortunate love for Leonora d*Este, daughter of 
Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, with whom he had lately taken 
service. 

He says of her : " On this> the first day that the beauteous 
serenity of her countenance met mine eyes, and I beheld love 
walk there, if reverence and wonder had not turned my heart 
to stone I would have perished with a double death." 

At that time Tasso was twenty- one ; Leonora thirty, and 
her sister Lucrezia thirty- one. From the first the sisters showed 
the poet every favor. He read and sang to them, talked with 
them, and they procured for him the privilege of dining at the 
" tavola ordinaria," or daily table of the princes. This was 
considered a high distinction, for which Tasso was very grate- 
ful. 

In 1570 Lucrezia was married to Francesco, son of the 
Duke of Urbino, which threw Leonora more into Tasso's society. 
He read to her portions of his ** Jerusalem Delivered," and it is 
supposed that in the episode of Sofronia and Olindo he cele- 
brated his own and Leonora's love. All this could not fail to 
arouse jealousy in the rest of the court, and displease the Duke 
d'Este, whose pride took offence at his daughter looking with 
favor on a man so much her inferior in rank. 

About this time Tasso made a journey to Paris with the 
Cardinal d*Este, where he became a great favorite with Charles 
IX., who would have heaped presents on him had not Tasso 
refused. This was the more praiseworthy as he was in reality 
very poor. His patrons were far from liberal, and although 
Tasso was never wasteful or extravagant, and was very par- 
ticular not to run into debt, he was constantly in need of 
money for actual necessities. 

He has been said by a modern writer to have been in his 
later career a mixture of Odysseus and Hamlet. Certain it is 
that the clouds were gathering around him. Leonora never 
married ; but how far she returned his love is not known. That 
she exercised some strange power over him, and that he broke 
away from her only to return when he could have been more 
successful elsewhere, history has fully recorded. 

It was a custom of men of the age to ask advice on their 
works. Such men as Raphael, Michael Angelo, and Ariosto 



590 Tasso aad the Chlrch of San osofsio [Feb., 



sought criticism from their friends. This was a mark of high 
genius, and a fashion which Tasso followed. The poet was not 
proud or vain of his talent ; but he was high-spirited and 
longed for earthly distinction and renown. His language in the 
" Jerusalem Delivered " is full of novelty and majesty. He 
originated and became the champion of the epic unity against 
Ariosto, who believed in diversity as a fundamental principle of 
the epic. It is a proof of Tasso's power that he gained glory 
against the long-standing supremacy of Ariosto in the same 
half century, and living at the same court. While at Ferrara 
he wrote his pastoral lyric drama of " Aminta," whose melan- 
':holy verse suited the music of Palestrina, which was then be- 



1903.] Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio, 591 

coming fashionable. This drama was acted at the Ferrarese 
court. Another of his poems, ** Rinaldo," combined the regu- 
larity of the Virgilian with the attraction of the Romantic epic. 
It was a new thing in the sixteenth century to make much of 
women in poetry, and this Tasso has done. His Armida, sent 
forth by the infernal Senate to sow discord in the Chris- 
tian camps, is converted by her love for a crusader. Clorinda 
donned armor and fought in a duel with her lover, receiving 
baptism from his hands in death. Another heroine, Erminia, 
seeks refuge in a shepherd's hut. These three pagan women 
are most beautiful creations. 

Tasso had many enemies, particularly the private secretary 
of the Duke of Ferrara. This caused his great friend Scipio 
Gonzaga, afterwards cardinal, to urge him to quit Ferrara; and 
made Tasso think of going to the Medici in Florence. Much 
of this ill-will remains a mystery ; but it seems to have had 
something to do with some private papers which Tasso men- 
tioned in his will, made just before his trip to France, and 
which he wished destroyed. It is a pity he did not destroy 
them himself, as he was watched and spied on, and his rooms 
entered in his absence. 

Sorrow, discipline, and desolation moulded and formed his 
character, correcting his faults of pride, and saving him from 
unbelief. He had for a short time been tinged with doubt, 
questioning the immortality of the soul, eternal punishment, 
God's particular providence, and the Incarnation. These doubts 
he had resisted ; but it was not until he had endured to the 
full the discipline of sorrow that his faith became strong and 
unwavering. He says : " Now in great part I smiled at my 
past doubts, not because I knew how to solve them, or could 
explain what Thou art, O my God, or because I fully under- 
stood Thy nature and Thy essence ; but because I compre- 
hended that Thou art incomprehensible ; and that it was folly 
to think of containing Thee, who art infinite, in the narrow 
limits of our human understanding, and of measuring by the 
measures of human reason Thy goodness. Thy justice. Thy im- 
measurable omnipotence.'' 

Many princes offered Tasso an asylum ; but he declined all 
their overtures. The petty sovereigns of Italy were among the 
most jealous of mankind, and their records are full of fearful 
tragedies. Alfonso accused Tasso of madness, and harassed and 



592 Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio. [Feb., 

tormented him in numerous ways. He did not want to ruin 
Tasso openly and drive him away, thus losing the prestige of 
being his patron; and his conduct can only be accounted for 
by supposing he had been made aware of the love between his 
daughter and the poet. 

Tasso was arrested one evening in the room of the Duchess 
of Urbino and accused of drawing a knife on a servant of the 
duke. It was given out that he was insane. He was taken to 
the duke's country place at Bel-riguardo, where he underwent 
moral torture from the duke and was shut up in a tower — a 
great punishment for a man who hated solitude. As he would 
reveal nothing he was taken back to Ferrara. Here he was 
treated like a madman; given physicians, and immured in the 
Convent of San Francesco, where he was constantly watched. 
He says he foresaw the plans for him long before they were 
carried out. 

From the convent he wrote to Scipio Gonzaga : '* Either I 
am of melancholy fancy and almost mad, or else I am too 
fiercely persecuted. This only way I see which can lead to 
peace, or quiet my anxieties." 

The watch on him must have been relaxed, for he escaped 
to his sister Cornelia at Sorrento, going to her in the guise of 
a shepherd. Here he stayed a year, and might have been sub- 
sequently happy and free; but, against the advice of his friends, 
he returned to Ferrara in 1578. His persecution recommenced 
two days after his return, and again he fled and tried to enter 
the service of other princes. By this time, however, his repu- 
tation as a supposed madman had got abroad, and every one 
shunned him until the Duke of Urbino took pity on him. 

Tasso went to Turin, where he was most kindly received 
by Prince Charles Emmanuel and Girolamo della Rovere, Arch- 
bishop of Turin. All the nobility vied with each other in at- 
tention to him, and not a whisper was breathed of his being 
insane. His friends tried to get his books and some pecuniary 
assistance from Alfonso. The duke wrote that he was ready to 
receive Tasso back, and, in spite of the entreaties of his friends, 
back Tasso went. About this time Alfonso was on the eve of 
making a third marriage with Margherita Gonzaga, daughter of 
the Duke of Mantua. On Tasso's arrival in Ferrara the duke 
and princesses closed their doors to him, and no one noticed 
him. He tried to get his books and writings, and failed. All 



1903.] Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio. 59$ 



T St. Onofrio. 



promises made to him were broken. He was insulted, irritated, 
and inhumanly treated, until at last he broke out in reproach 
of the duke. It was enough; he was seized by the duke's 
order, and sent to Santa Anna, a hospital for lunatics of the 
lowest class. He says : " Nor do I now so much fear the 
greatness of my anguish as its continuance." 

For fourteen months he was kept in close seclusion, nearly 
all the time with no one to speak to: a fastidious, sensitive, re- 
fined man, doomed to hear all the noises of a mad-house. It 
was only by the mercy of God that he did not go mad in 
reality. 

He employed his time in writing sonnets and dialogues. 
One can but wonder at his fortitude, his industry and con- 
stancy under his trials and suffering. He says: "I think and 
then rethink, and thinking, madden." 

His friends used every effort to obtain his release, but 
unsuccessfully. 

About this time Tasso had first a letter and then a visit 
from Father Angelo Grillo, a monk of Monte Cassino, a not 
inconsiderable poet, philosopher, and theologian: He came to 



594 TASSO and the CHURCH OF SAN ONOFRIO, [Feb., 

Tasso's assistance just in time, and gave him sensible and affec- 
tionate help. It is probable that Tasso would have sunk under 
his prolonged afflictions but for this monk. Tasso was also at 
a later period indebted to him for more serious benefits, and in 
a great measure to his help for his final release. He sent 
Father Grillo a sonnet which runs: 

« 
" I sowed, another reaps. I water, lo ! 
A noble plant, a not unworthy swain ; 
Others the fruit receive, and me disdain, 
And in my heart, for fear, I hide the woe, 
I bear the load ; the watery deep I plough ; 
The profits others gather." 

In his prison Tasso was visited by many learned and noble 
men, and received presents of his own works beautifully printed 
and bound. He was released from prison July 6, 1586, after an 
incarceration of seven years. He went at once to Mantua to 
Duke William ; and the following year he made a pilgrimage to 
Loreto in the Marches of Ancona. He affirmed he had constant 
communings with a spirit, an idea probably the result of his 
long imprisonment. In his fits of abstraction he imagined he 
was conversing with another person, when he was really talking 
to and answering himself. From Loreto, in November, 1587, he 
went to the papal court at Rome, and hearing there that the 
Duke of Ferrara objected to his freedom, he fled to the Bene- 
dictine Monastery of Mount Olivet, at Naples. This religious 
house, which stands on a hill above the Bay of Naples, had a 
lovely garden and was rich in beautiful trees — pines, cypresses, 
firs, and olives. There was a deep glen in the woods above 
the monastery, and the building itself was large and roomy. 
It formed an ideal retreat for the world-weary and heart-sick 
man, and here he remained four or five months, treated with 
kindness and distinction by the brothers as well as by all 
Naples. His mind and health revived, and here he wrote a 
poem called "II Principio di Monte Oliveto." It relates that in 
13 12 John Tolomei of Siena, having become blind, recovered by 
prayer, and resolved to devote himself to a religious life, and 
withdrew with two companions, Patrizio Patrizi and Ambrogio 
Piccolomini, to a retreat in the mountains. The poem describes 
the visions of angels, the flaming stairs in heaven, the appari- 



1903] Tasso andjthe Church of San onofsio. 595 

tions he received of the Blessed Virgin, and the superaatural 
charges given to him. It goes on to speak of the building 
of the house, and the spread of the Benedictine Order. Most 
of this poem is very7fine, and Tasso seems to unburden his 
own sorrow in John Tolo- 
mei's solemn and pathetic 
denunciations of the an- 
guish and unrest of an 
earthly life. This feeling 
grew and strengthened in 
Tasso with time. 

Among his friends at 
Naples was Manso, Mar- 
quis della Villa, who later 
became his biographer. 
Manso invited him to his 
castle at Bisaccio, a small 
town in the Abruzzi Moun- 
tains. Here Tasso joined 
in the sports of field and 
hunt, and chased the wild 
boar. For these out- door 
pastimes he had always, 
as an accomplished cavalier, 
a great aptitude. With 
Manso, a poet and author 
as well as a nobleman, he 
held pleasant commune. 
Manso was also a great 
friend of Milton's, and the 
English poet visited htm dur- 
ing his Italian tour. Many 
writers think that the " Para- 
dise Lost," and Milton's re- 
ligious subjects, and his pre- 
dilection for epic poetry, a FASTmious, Sknsithh. Repined Man. 
were inspired by Tasso. 

From Naples the poet returned to Rome and went to the 
Hospital of the Bergamaschi, where he was rescued in great 
poverty by his] cousin Alexander, and taken back to Naples. 



S96 Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio. [Fcb.^ 

An effort was made to recover for him his mother's inheritance, 
which had been lost during his father's life-time, and which 
had passed into the hands of the Prince of Avellino, heir of 
Scipio de Rossi, his mother's last surviving brother. The 
prince agreed to pay him an annuity of two hundred ducats, as 
well as a considerable sum in addition. The rest of Tasso's 
life was passed between Rome, Naples, and Florence, and he 
wrote and composed to the last. 

In 1594 Pope Clement VIII. and his nephew. Cardinal Al- 
dobrandini, wanted to crown Tasso poet laureate of Italy; so 
he went to Rome in November, but the ceremony had to be 
deferred owing to the illness of the cardinal. 

Independence and comfort, with honor and renown, came, 
however, too late. Tasso himself, whose health had been more 
or less broken since his long imprisonment, became seriously 
ill. He was sent by Cardinal Cintio in his private chariot to 
San Onofrio. On April i, 1595, he ascended the Trasteverine 
Hill in a severe storm. Seeing a cardinal's coach coming up 
the hill, the prior and brothers hastened to welcome him. 
Here the poet began, as he says, his "conversation in Heaven"; 
he received the Sacraments and passed his time in prayer, 
meditation, and in the society of the good fathers. 

He died on the 25th of April, 1595, chanting the verse, 
"Into Thy hands, O Lord." The day before his death he re- 
ceived Holy Communion, and exclaimed as it was brought to 
him, ** Expectans, expectavi Dominum ! " 

He was borne from the monastery where he died arrayed 
in a splendid gown, with the laurel wreath that he never re- 
ceived in life encircling his brow. The funeral car passed 
through Bargo and the piazza of St. Peter's, and back to San 
Onofrio, with a great company of monks, courtiers, professors, 
men of letters, nobles, and scholars in its train. 

His burial took place at San Onofrio ; many orations, epi 
taphs, and sonnets were composed in his honor; but no monu- 
ment was erected over his grave until two years after his 
death, when the monks put up. a small marble slab. Cardinal 
Cintio wished to erect a memorial, but failed to do so. 

Teh years after Tasso's death Cardinal Bonifanzio Bevilacqua 
of Fferrara, whose parents had been great friends of Tasso's, 
reared a stately monument in the church with the poet's por- 



<903-] Tasso and the Church of San Onofrio, 597 



Tub Monument to the Pokt in the Church of San Onofrio. 

trait in relief; and a life-sized statue of him was placed on the 
principal piazza in Bergamo. It represents him in flowing 
robes, with the laurel crown on his head and a book in his 
hand. 

A similar one was erected in Padua by students of the uni- 
versity; but the most interesting and accurate representation 
of him is the cast in San Onofrio taken from his death mask. 
The slab over his grave was placed there at the instigation of 
his friend the Marquis Manso. It reads: 



y^ Tasso and the Church of Sax onofrio. [Feb, 

D. O. M. 

ToRQUATo Tasso 

OSSA 

HiC JACENT 

Hoc NE NESCIUS 

Esse Hospes 

Tres Hujus Eccl 

P. P. 

M. D. C. T. 

Obit Anno MDXCV. 

A modem writer says of Tasso : " His chief fault in verse, 
and more so in prose, was one of the age — an over-indulgence 
in words and recondite allusions. His style, in a word, was too 
redundant. Of his favorite books we may name Plato, Virgil, 
and Dante, St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine. On being 
asked by a young Sorrentine what was most needful for stu- 
dents, he replied : Perseverance ; and what next ? Perseverance ; 
and what in the third place? Perseverance. It formed in him 
the grace of constancy, which he said at Sl Anna's was 
'his one only rock of refuge.' It strengthened in him habits 
of resolution, energy, constancy, and study, which, joined to 
what was the tight of his later life— continual meditation on the 
Incarnation and Passion of Christ — made of him the noble and 
purified character he became, sanctiBed in fortitude."  



1903.] Prosperity of Ireland. 599 




A DAWNING DAY FOR THE PROSPERITY OF IRELAND. 

BY JAMES MURPHY. 

HE development of affairs in Ireland during the 
past few months has been of a momentous kind, 
and in the eyes of many of the best judges 
they portend an outcome that will in the near 
future give vastly beneficial results to the gen- 
eral body of the people of that country. 

Counties, cities, and towns have been proclaimed. Members 
of Parliament and other leaders of the national agitation have 
been thrown into jail by the removable magistrates. But every 
time that Ireland passes through a period of particular distress 
like this, one may look out for good substantial progress as a 
result of the reaction. 

Then again, for the first time in the history of the Irish 
land fight, the landlords have begun to hang out signals of dis- 
tress. They have formed a Landlords' Trust, and they are at 
intervals holding conventions and conferences, and discussing 
projects for the relinquishment of their properties. They have 
even taken under advisement the question of meeting repre- 
sentatives of the tenants in a body with a view to solving the 
huge problem that confronts them. It would seem as if they 
recognize that the hour of their departure is drawing nigh. And 
no event, it is admitted on all sides, would conduce so potently- ^ 
and effectively to the ending of Ireland's troubles as the 
coming of the day when the tillers of the soil will.JA the 
owners of the soil. J<^^^ 



. *^ 



REDMOND'S REVIEW OF THE SITUAJl^. 

Mr. John £. Redmond, the leader of the Irish Parliamentary 
party, has made the. following interesting statement on this 
subject : 

'' I am convinced that we are near the settlement of the 
agrarian question. We see it in the continual proposals for 
conferences between landlord representatives and tenant repre- 
sentatives, and in the revolt on the part of a great number of 



6oo A Da wning Da y for [Feb., 

the landlords against the few leading and wealthy politicians 
who have been guiding them to ruin and destruction. I be- 
lieve that by a comparatively short struggle, carried on with 
courage and determination and a spirit of self-sacrihce by the 
people, we will reach the end of this question, and then there 
will be no obstacle in the way of Home Rule, and all the Irish 
people will be able to meet together and make a demand for 
an Irish Parliament, and when that Irish Parliament is assembled, 
as I believe it will be in our own life-time, then a new era of 
prosperity will arise for Ireland. 

"For the moment, however, things seem to have assumed a 
gloomy and painful aspect in Ireland, and yet every day that 
passes we have more cause for joy and self- congratulation. 
The Coercion Act is being widely applied, the constitution is 
being suspended and men are being arbitrarily deprived of their 
liberty. This is a monstrous state of affairs, but it is entirely 
motived by the cheering fact that the national movenient is 
making giant progress. Not for one hour during the past 
twelve months has our cause stood still. On the contrary, there 
has occurred in that time an extraordinary spread of the United 
Irish League and an extraordinary increase in its power. To- 
day there are more branches of the United Irish League than 
there ever were of the Land League or of the National League. 
And these are real working branches in the fullest sense of the 
term. There is a palpable increase in the spirit, the hope, and 
the determination of the people, and friend and foe alike 
recognize that there is at the present time a movement more 
real, more alive, and more formidable to Ireland's enemies than 
ever in the past. 

"As long as the English government remains on the defen- 
sive in Ireland, it is difficult to arouse the people, but the 
moment that Dublin Castle takes the offensive the spirit of the 
nation is stirred. A year ago there was on the statute book an 
Irish Coercion Act, but it was not in operation. Now the 
British government has discarded the mask of constitutionalism 
and is applying its system of martial law. We rejoice in this 
fact, for it is a confession to the world that England cannot 
rule Ireland except by suspending the constitution, and it is 
the best means of organizing the national movement. In itself, 
however, it is a monstrous state of affairs, and one that would 
justify any resistance, even an armed revolution, and for my 



I903-] THE PROSPERITY OF IRELAND. 6oi 

part I would despair of ever obtaining any real l;)enefit for the 
people of Ireland if this action was not resented. Coercion 
would be a very powerful weapon against Ireland if the people 
exhibited a craven spirit ; but if they exhibit an attitude of 
determination, self-sacrifice, and contempt, then coercion as a 
weapon will break in the hands of those who try to use it and 
can be picked up, so to speak, from the ground and used by 
the people themselves. For the. moment there is only one way 
to meet coercion, and that is by contempt, concrete practical 
contempt. The Irish members of Parliament recently arrested 
are showing the spirit that will break this coercion in their 
supreme contempt for the alleged tribunals of justice before 
which they are dragged. The penalties which they can inflict — 
after all, what are they ? Why, we all of us have had our 
turn on the plank bed and at the skilly, and are any of us the 
worse for it, and is England any the better? And then we 
can use coercion for coercion. The Irish party and the Irish 
question to-day dominate the English Parliament, and though 
the 'English government have a large majority, we are able to 
keep the parliamentary machine from doing effective work. 
Similarly in connection with our struggle against the landlords, 
coercion must be our plan of campaign. The landlords are 
beginning to talk compromise, but the only way to obtain a 
useful compromise is by relentless and remorseless fighting 
against those who are striving to crush the tenantry of Ireland. 
We are now making that fight and winning that fight, and the 
settlement will come soon." 

HOPE IN ENGLAND'S CONFUSION. 

Mr. Michael Davitt on the same subject said : 
*' I think the situation, as far as the political future of the 
Irish national movement is concerned, is most satisfactory and 
hopeful. Ireland is again to the front with English parties 
owing to coercion and other causes, and this, together with the 
prominence again assumed by the land question, is a moral 
guarantee that the question will be faced for final solution in 
an early Parliament. The fight on the Education Bill gives 
distinct prominence to the matter of Irish government. This 
fight for the control of England's schools is an English, not an 
Irish, question, and yet the issue may be finally determined by 
Ireland's representatives. It is the result of the Act of Union 

VOL. LXXVI. — 39 



6o2 A Da wnjng Da y for [Feb., 

to make Ireland a determining factor in England's domestic 
politics. The enemies of Home Rule are really in a humiliating 
position. They are sending Irish members to prison for advo- 
cating ' picketing ' against land-grabbers, and are coercing the 
country in order to put down the League, and yet on the other 
hand they are appealing to Cardinal Vaughan to bring religious 
pressure to bear on the Irish party itself to save the govern- 
ment. All this is good and hopeful for the Irish cause. The 
anomaly will ultimately be remedied and justice will be done 
at an early date, — and whether the British Parliament likes it 
or not, to the suffering people of Ireland." 

STOP EMIGRATION. 

In Ireland itself there is in progress active discussion of the 
ways and means of bettering, in a practical manner, the condi- 
tion of the country. Particularly interesting is the unanimity 
with which on all sides it is asserted that the first and most 
necessary step for the alleviation of the nation's woes is to stop 
emigration. Dr. T. S. McArdle, the noted surgeon, recently 
lecturing in Dublin, said: 

''There is urgent necessity for immediate and persistent 
efforts on the part of every educated person in Ireland to stem 
the torrent of emigration which is draining away the very life- 
blood of the country. Each of us should put the question to 
himself, ' What have I done to check this hemorrhage ? ' We 
cannot rebuild a nation by an act of Parliament. Its growth 
must come from the root, and every individual in Ireland has 
the power, if he has the will, to aid in the regeneration of his 
country. I have often thought that a nation is like an indi- 
vidual in being inclined to look back to the halcyon days of 
its youth. When we grow old we are ever willing to recount 
the feats performed when fear had no place in our vocabulary. 
This is not as it should be. A nation can no more live on 
memories than we can grow young on the retelling of our juve- 
nile prowess. A nation should know no autumn. Between 
spring and summer the pendulum of its life should oscillate. 
The type of a nation's life is the beautiful evergreen plant, 
budding in spring, flowering in summer, but defying alike the 
chills of autumn and the snows of winter. Of all the nations 
this should be true of Ireland. With a race as prolific as the 
soil it should own, the ^ '^ught to teem with vigorous 



1903] ^^-^ PROSPERITY OF IRELAND, 603 

life, instead of being the harbor of the old and necessitous. 
In studying the problem of life here we should eliminate ex- 
aggeration, and instead of proclaiming that Ireland is the first 
flower of the earth and first gem of the sea, we must make 
some sacrifice so that the country we profess to love may not 
become one vast workhouse, from which the light of heaven 
and the joys of earth are rigorously excluded." 
Mr. John Redmond on the same subject says: 
"The real danger that Ireland has to face is a continua- 
tion of emigration. Should it continue at the present rate for 
a few decades more, where will be the Irish nation that we de- 
sire to emancipate? Why, the Irish race will have left the 
shores of Ireland. People are tempted to go to America by 
the extravagant accounts of the wealth and opportunities of that 
country. I tell you the poorest agricultural laborer living in 
his hovel by the roadside in Ireland is a happier man than the 
artisan or laborer who in America earns three or four times 
his wages." 

MAKE THE PEOPLE CONTENTED AT HOME. 

With remarkable unanimity, also, those who have set them- 
selves to find the solution of this problem contend that a pri- 
mary point is to make life more cheerful and agreeable in Ire- 
land. " I believe," says Mr. Redmond, " that the emigration 
evil will never be stopped until the land question is settled ; 
but in the meantime it may be mitigated by the generous 
efforts to revive industries all over Ireland, and also, what some 
may deem a minor matter, by endeavoring to bring back some 
life into the daily existence of the people. I know of nothing 
more terrible than the deadly dulness in some of the rural parts 
of Ireland, and it is not strange that men living under these 
conditions should be lured away by the reports which they get 
of the kind of life in America, the brightness, the energy, and 
the strife there. It seems to me that if the amusements of the 
people were more promoted than they are at present it would 
be well. It seems a pity that the old Irish crossroad music 
and dance have disappeared. And it would be well if reading- 
rooms and libraries, and all sorts of athletic exercises and 
games, were promoted throughout the country. And if, in ad- 
dition, an endeavor was made to improve the material condition 
of individuals in Ireland, and do something to further the light- 



6o4 A Da wning Da y for [Feb., 

ness and happiness of the every-day life of people, I am con- 
vinced we would be doing a great deal to stop emigration." 

The Right Hon. Horace Plunkett, who although a Unionist 
in politics is admittedly a whole-souled and patriotic Irishman, 
has this to say on the same topic : " A vital question is how to 
make it not only possible but also pleasant and desirable for 
our countrymen to remain at home. Emigration is as much 
due to the dulness and sterility of our rural life as to its abso- 
lute necessities. With regard to the purely economic problem 
we have to face not only the Irish land question but also the 
great rural problem of the exodus away from the country dis- 
tricts. We have not only to thoroughly reorganize our agricul- 
tural industry on its purely economic side, but in some way or 
other to provide some offset for the ever-growing attractions of 
foreign, countries and even of our own towns. The Gaelic 
movement is an important factor in the right direction, and I 
believe none except those connected with it can realize its great 
potentiality for dealing with the social and intellectual side of 
our country life." 

QUESTION OF LAND TENURE. 

But most salient and most urgent of solution of all the 
grievances of Ireland is the question of land tenure. As the 
systematic ill-treatment of the tenants, and the systematic dis- 
couragement of their tendency to make improvements on their 
holdings, had brought the agricultural districts down to a point 
of misery and wretchedness beneath which it is practically im- 
possible to descend, and as the landlords had blusteringly flung 
out a challenge of defiance and non-compromise, the matter of 
the compulsory expropriation of the landlords was for the past 
few years ever finding a wider and more serious consideration. 
Men of the position and importance of Colonial Secretary 
Chamberlain put themselves on record as advocating some plan 
of compulsory purchase. The question has now reached a 
point where action seems so near that the landlords are in 
alarm. A scission has occurred in their ranks. 

There are those of them who would willingly listen to com- 
promise, and, while there is yet time, make the best terms they 
can in getting rid of their properties. The leaders among 
them, however, the more wealthy and stiflF-necked, haughtily 
refuse to listen to reason. At the Irish Landowners* Con- 



I903-] THE PROSPERITY OF IRELAND. 605 

vention held in Dublin in the end of August, under the chair- 
manship of the Duke of Abercorn, a resolution suggesting a 
conference between landlords and tenants with a view to a 
settlement of the land question was withdrawn, and resolutions 
approving of the new Landlords' Trust and of a scheme of 
government compensation to landlords for all damage wrought 
to their property were adopted. 

The resolution approving of the trust was moved by the 
new Irish peer, Lord Barry more, who, as Mr. Smith- Barry, 
had a certain notoriety as a rack- renter and a ruthless evictor, 
and it is interesting enough to merit reproduction : '' Resolved, 
that we highly approve of the action of our Executive Com- 
mittee in having made arrangements for the formation of 
the Irish Land Trust, 1902, as a permanent organization to 
assist landowners and others to defend their Iqgal rights and 
liberties against hostile combinations; and we hope that this 
important movement will be liberally supported by all persons 
who have a common interest in defending the rights of property 
and the free enjoyment of the liberty to which every British 
subject is entitled." In an accompanying speech the noble lord 
said they should take joy unto themselves for the fact that the 
Landlords' Trust had secured the approval of the better part of 
the press in England, and had provoked the entire disapproval 
of the national press and of the national parliamentary party in 
Ireland. These landlords' conventions are always held.^privately, 
with the newspaper representatives excluded, and the fact that 
in this case the official public announcement contained- mention 
of an abortive resolution on the question of a conference with 
the tenants was taken as a warning to the ''small fry" land- 
lords that such a line of action would not be countenanced. 

And yet a growing number of the minor landlords are 
unquestionably in favor of extending a small fragment of olive 
branch towards the tenants. They are eager to part with their 
estates if they can get adequate. value for them. They believe 
that at the present juncture the British government could be 
induced not only to assist purchasing tenants by lending them 
money, but should make up the difference between what the 
tenant wishes to pay and what the landlord is prepared to 
accept. They point to the possibility of considerably reducing 
the police force throughout the country, and they foresee a 
perfectly peaceable country, and freedom ,from unrest, with a 



6o6 A DA WNJNG DA Y FOR [Feb., 

consequent saving of large sums to the state. They believe 
that the Englishman knows little about Ireland, and cares less. 
He is aware that it is a place that is periodically in the throes 
of -agitation, which sometimes causes him to feel uneasy, and 
to get rid of this state of things, to purchase peace, he ivould 
not be against the statesman who offered to expend a few mil- 
lion pounds. 

CONFERENCE BETWEEN LANDLORD AND TENANT. 

One of these landlords — Captain John Shawe-Taylor — pub- 
lished a letter suggesting a round table conference in Dublin, 
to bring together men who, by general consent, are best en- 
titled to speak for the landlords and the tenants. ^'An honest, 
simple, and practical solution," he adds, ^'will be submitted, 
and I am confident that a settlement alike satisfactory to land- 
lord and tenant will be arrived at." Another landlord, Mr. 
Villiers Stuart, declared that "our greatest need at present is 
for both sides to be able to meet and talk business pure and 
simple, eliminating the passion, prejudice, cant, and bitter feel- 
ing which unfortunately surround our Land Question at the 
present moment." The idea was widely taken up. Even Mr. 
Wyndham, the Chief Secretary for Ireland, expressed his ap- 
proval. "No government," he said, "can settle the Irish Land 
Question. It must be settled by the parties interested. The 
extent of useful action on the part of any government is limited 
to providing facilities, in so far as that may be possible, for 
giving effect to any settlement arrived at by the parties. It is 
not for the government to express an opinion, either on the 
opportuneness of the moment chosen for holding a conference, 
or on the selection of persons invited to attend. Those who 
come together will do so on their own initiative and responsi- 
bility. Any conference is a step in the right direction, if it 
bring the prospect of a settlement between the parties nearer, 
and in so far as it enlarges the possible scope of operations 
under such a settlement." 

The Nationalist members of Parliament seemed to be some- 
what at odds on the subject. A Dublin newspaper, that is 
regarded as accurately expressing the sentiments of Mr. Timothy 
M. Healy, M. P., wek ^ " a conference com- 

posed of capable lav d by some prac- 

tical-minded and ex nts," and holds 



k_^ 



1903.] THE PROSPERITY OF IRELAND, 607 

that such a conference would ''secure to our gentry that which 
they are absolutely entitled to receive — the full value of their 
properties." Mr. William O'Brien, on the other hand, does 
not like the idea of the conference. He says: "I can scarcely 
imagine a greater misfortune for the country than that we 
should be kept all the winter dangling over these proposals of 
conferences, or that the people's attention should be turned 
away by these vague hopes of conferences with persons un- 
known, turned away from that policy of relentless and remorse- 
less fighting which can alone force the government to proffer 
us a really great Land Purchase Bill next session." 

PROPOSED LAND PURCHASE ACT. 

An excellent sign of progress is seen in the fact that at a 
landlords' convention held in Dublin in the middle of October, 
with the Duke of Abercorn and a multitude of belted earls 
attending, the question of the conference was debated. Lord 
Mayo proposed the resolution, "that it is desirable a conference 
of representatives of landlords and representatives of tenants 
should take place to consider and deal with the Irish Land 
Question." This resolution was voted down by ^^ to 14. An 
amendment to this effect was adopted: ''That, inasmuch as we 
have indicated, in the resolutions which we have agreed to to- 
day, the nature of the settlement which we believe the majority 
of the landowners of Ireland would be willing to accept on the 
question of Land Purchase, we cannot see that any good could 
result from any conference such as has been suggested." This 
amendment was meant inferentially to pledge the Irish land- 
lords not to accept less than thirty years purchase of their 
nominal rent, combined with a number of other substantial 
financial advantages. The convention, possibly as a counter- 
proposal for the conference, accepted the following resolution : 
'' That, having published a statement on the Irish Land Ques- 
tion, setting forth our views on the matter, we would welcome 
a similar statement on the part of the tenants, with a view to 
assist the government towards a solution of the existing diffi- 
culties of the situation." 

The point was later raised that the landlords who had 
managed the convention were not the legitimate spokesmen of 
the majority of their brethren in the country. A Dublin news- 
paper started a canvass of the lord- lieutenants and the deputy- 



6o8 A Da WNING Da Y for [Feb,, 

lieutenants of the various counties, to know if they were for or 
against the conference, and the majority of answers returned 
were favorable to the affirmative side of the proposal. Then a 
poll was opened to investigate the sentiment of the county 
councillors on the same subject. And so conference or no-con- 
ference is, for the hour, one of the burning subjects of debate in 
Ireland. That the conference will come and will be of a prac- 

r 

tical kind is believed by many, and even preparations are being 
made for it. Schemes of land purchase have been drawn up, 
and of these one is so important that it is attracting wide at* 
tention and commendation. It is the work of Mr. T. W. Rus- 
sell, M. P., the noted Ulster Unionist, who is working heart 
and soul for the betterment of the Irish tenant throughout the 
country. 

MR. T. W. RUSSELL'S SCHEME. 

His scheme proposes to give the landlords twenty-three years' 
purchase of the rents as fixed by government commissioners. 
The government, he proposes, shall advance the money — 
$500,000,000 is his calculation — half in cash, with which they can 
pay off the mortgages, and half in/ a four per cent, stock. The 
tenants are to pay two and three-quarters per cent, and the ad- 
vantage to them in reduction of rent will depend on the length of 
the period of repayment. If it is forty-nine years, their reduc- 
tion will be about fourteen per cent. ; if seventy-three years, 
then the reduction will be about twenty-six per cent.., on the 
rents. The effect of the proposals on the incomes of the land- 
lords is worked out in detail by Mr. Russell, and his figures go 
to show that the plan would be one to which np reasonable 
landlord would take exception. The unreasonable landlords may 
take it that these proposals indicate : the high-water mark of 
any offers that are likely to be made from the tenants'* side. 
Nobody is likely tb offer them more. The government also 
gets well out of it, and the annual loss under any of the 
schemes of bonus suggested by Mr. Russell is one which they 
might well face with unconcern. 

A symptom of the new spirit of courage and determination 
that is now animating the public in Ireland was manifested in 
a very energetic way during the past couple of months. In the 
early part of September the capital of Ireland was proclaimed 
under the provisions of the Coercion Act. This was regarded 



1903.] THE PROSPERITY OF IRELAND. 609 

more in the nature of an insult than an injury, and far from 
passing unresented, the act has been made the subject of so 
much agitation in-doors and out-of-doors that Chief Secre- 
tary Wyndham, who had early been regarded with a spirit of 
toleration from the fact that he is the great-grandson of the 
patriotic Lord Edward Fitzgerald, must have rued the day that 
he thought of interfering with the constitutional privileges of 
the City of Dublin. 

The only explanation that seemed to offer itself of the ac- 
tion of the English government was that, seeing that the popu* 
lar agitation was spreading fast, they thought it would be ad- 
visable to do something to ''strike terror." The idea was 
hardly worthy of statesmen. The proclaiming of a commercial 
centre like Dublin without visible justification was calculated to 
produce indignation rather than terror, and it did, in reality, 
arouse the wrath not only of the Nationalists, but of a great 
many of the Unionist party in the metropolitan area. And 
that justification was lacking seems clear from the recent public 
pronouncement of Justice Wright, a strenuous Unionist, and a 
strong supporter of the government. Judge Wright, opening 
the commission for the city and county of Dublin, congratulated 
both grand juries on the condition of the calendar. ** The 
cases in Dublin," he said, '' are exceptionally light considering 
the extent of the city and its population." Regarding the county 
of Dublin he said : " Apart from these cases, few in number 
and light in character, according to the police returns, the cases 
of undetected crimes — that is to say, crimes known to have 
been committed, but for which no one has been made amenable 
— are very few. In addition to the cases specially reported, 
there are the usual statistics of cases not specially reported — 
minor offences or crimes — and they show, as compared with 
last year, no increase, but rather a falling off. Taking all these 
classes of cases, the condition of the county is in a very satis- 
factory condition of peace and order and, on the whole, crime- 
less." 

In indignant protest against the proclamation of Dublin 
meetings were held in the Mansion House under the presidency 
of the lord mayor, public demonstrations took place in Phoenix 
Park, and week after week orators systematically harangued 
gatherings of Dublin people in various quarters of the city. 
The proclamation had the effect of stirring up agitation, of in- 



6io A Dawning Day FOR [Feb., 

creasing the membership of the United Irish League, and of 
swelling the fund for the waging of Ireland's battle. 

ARCHBISHOP WALSH'S PROTEST. 

Typical of the feeling at this juncture the foUowing^ letter 
from Archbishop Walsh, dated October 3, and addressed to the 
Lord Mayor of Dublin, is worth recording: 

"My dear Lord Mayor: A diocesan engagement hinders 
me from being present at the Mansion House meeting to-day, 
but I feel that I should be unworthy of the position which I 
hold if I did not, at least by letter, take part in the protest 
that will go forth from that meeting against the action of the 
Irish Executive in putting our peaceful city under the operation 
of the Coercion Act. 

"Fourteen years ago, as your lordship no doubt well re- 
members, I took it upon myself to suggest the holding of a 
conference between leading representatives of the landlords and 
leading representatives of the tenants of Ireland. I was not 
without hope that by means of such a conference a basis of 
agreement could be arrived at for an equitable settlement of 
the land question. My suggestion was favorably received by 
not a few landlords, who manfully gave public expression to 
their approval of it. But the good example thus set was not 
at all generally followed, and the only result was the addition 
of one more to the lamentably long list of what Mr. William 
O'Brien at the time described as the 'lost opportunities of the 
Irish gentry.' 

"Just now, a not dissimilar proposal has come from the 
landlords' side, and has been received in a spirit of true states- 
manship by Mr. Redmond and others of our public men, ac- 
credited representatives of the interests of the tenants. We 
have in consequence been witnessing many indications of the 
growth of a spirit of conciliation between landlords and tenants 
throughout the country. Allow me to express the hope that — 
vigorous as our protest must be against the insulting procla- 
mation of our city — xipthing wiJ^be said or done at to-day's 
meeting that cc lent of that better feel- 

ing which, but ction of the Irish Ex- 

ecutive, wouldj y this time extended 

its beneficent ?Id of public life in 

Ireland. 



1903] THE PROSPERITY OF IRELAND. 611 

'' In spite of all the trouble that has arisen there is, I ven- 
ture to think, much that gives ground for hope that the time 
is at hand for the removal, at length, of two long outstanding 
Irish grievances, for the settlement of our land question oh the 
only basis upon which it ever can be settled — the abolition of 
the present harassing system of dual ownership in Ireland — 
and for the settlement also of our education question on the 
only basis upon which that question ever can be settled, the 
unqualified recognition of the right of the Catholics of Ireland 
to absolute equality of treatment in their own land. 

" I cannot but think that if the statesmen who are responsi- 
ble for the good government of this country had realized the 
extent to which they were jeopardizing the settlement of those 
two great questions, they never would have taken the unfortu- 
nate step which has of necessity g^ven rise to so much angry 
feeling. 

"In response to the appeal that has been made to the 
country by the Bishop of Raphoe and his co-trustees of the 
National Defence Fund, I enclose a check for ;£'20, and beg to 
remain, my dear Lord Mayor, your lordship's faithful servant, 

t William J. Walsh, 

Archbishop of Dublin.'* 

IMMEDIATE OUTLOOK IS BRIGHT. 

Although there continues to be grievous suffering among 
the peasants in the West of Ireland, and particularly in the so- 
called Congested Districts, the present condition of the entire 
country is more encouraging than at any time for many years 
past, and the immediate outlook is bright. 

A summing up of the situation has been made in a concise, 
interesting, and authoritative way by Cardinal Moran, who went 
from Ireland to Australia in 1884, and who left Ireland last 
month after a three months' visit, which comprised a tour 
through a large part of the four provinces. 

" The first thing," says Cardinal Moran, " that strikes a 
visitor after being away from Ireland for several years is the 
wonderful absence of crime, as reported both in the official an- 
nouncements and declared by the judges and magistrates from 
the bench. I do not think there is any country in the 
world that presents so striking a record of complete exemption 
from serious crime. Another feature that cannot fail to impress 



6 12 A Dawning Day FOR [Feb.^ 

a pilgrim from Australia is the present administration as com- 
pared with the late administration of the country under the 
grand jury laws. The present administration is in the hands of 
the urban and county councils, and they have shown great 
wisdom and prudence, and in my opinion have fully justified 
the departure of the government in placing the administration 
in the hands of the people. The moneys of the towns and 
counties have never been more faithfully or more economically 
administered. Everything is carried on to the greatest possible 
advantage of the people as regards roads and institutions and 
all matters connected with local administration. 

" A third feature which struck me is the remarkable develop* 
ment of industries throughout the country under the technical 
board, and also in connection with the National schools. New 
schools seem to have arisen on every side, and the people 
seem more anxious than ever to avail themselves of the edu- 
cational advantages presented. In some branches of technical 
education Ireland seems to have outstripped all competitors, as^ 
for instance, in connection with the lace- making industry, and 
also in the matter of illumination. I do not believe that the 
Irish schools in these are surpassed by any in the world. 

''The autonomy granted to the urban and county councils 
may be, I earnestly hope, a preparation for the full and com- 
plete autonomy which alone will restore harmony and satisfy 
the just aspirations of the people. 

''On the question of compulsory sale I would say that, at 
least as far as small holdings are concerned, it would be the 
greatest possible boon to the tenants and to the landlords them- 
selves. I have seen in several parts of the country, side by 
side, the small holdings of which the tenants are proprietors 
under the various land acts, and the small holdings of those 
whose tenancies are precarious. There could not be a stronger 
contrast. The contentment and prosperity of the small tenants 
who had become proprietors cannot fail to impress the most 
careless, as compared with the discontent and insecurity of their 
fellows, which discontent and insecurity lead to discomfort and 
dissension in many ways. 

" It is said that the fear of Home Rule by the governing 
party in England is inspired by the belief that Home Rule 
would lead to separation. The idea, however, is entirely wrong. 
No sensible man in the whole of Ireland would dream of 



>903] . THE Prosperity of Ireland. 613 

separation. In the first place, it is impossible ; and in the 
second place, even it were possible, the interest of Ireland 
would be entirely opposed to separation. Just as in the case 
of the colonies at the present time the whole world has recog- 
nized that the colonies do not desire separation, and the whole 
world has witnessed the earnestness shown- by the colonies in 
the late South African war, The same would be the result in 
Ireland if the government were administered in accordance with 
the wishes and aspirations of the Irish people." 

The bogie of separation, alluded to by the cardinal, seems at 
last and somewhat unexpectedly to be losing its terrors for the 
British Unionists. It sounds rather strange to be informed that 
the Conservative leaders are actually studying the question of 
forestalling the Liberals in conceding to Ireland a form of 
Home Rule, or in "creating a subordinate national Legislative 
and Executive," to use the phrase which they prefer. Yet such, 
it is affirmed on excellent authority, is the case. Articles 
on the subject in leading conservative reviews are attracting 
much attention, as they are from the pen of conservatives who 
speak always with authority and sometimes as inspired by those 
in higher places. The fact is alluded to here, not for discussion 
but as the most remarkable and significant indication of a 
brighter outlook for Ireland. 



The Grottoes of Marmouties. [Feb.. 



A BICYCLE TRIP TO THE GROTTOES OF MARMOUTIER. 

BY MISS DE LA FONTAINE, 

HE traveller who follows the right bank of the 
river Loire can fiad no better road, nor one 
more interesting, than the twenty miles which 
stretch from the "Chateau of Langea^s " to 
Vouvray, a village situated on a hill, five miles 
further up the river than Tours. Leaving the castle of the 
Valois kings behind us, we wheeled steadily up the valley un- 
til the quaint old pagan tower called the " Pile de Cinq Mars " 
rose up on our left, with a cluster of neat little houses gathered 
around its base. It was here at Cinq Mars that we first made 
a closer inspection of those dwellings in the rock for which 
Touraine is famous, and which recall, in the beginning of the 
twentieth century, the manner of living in the days when 
" Gaul " had not yet changed its name into " France." 

Formed of a yielding, calcareous substance, these rocks .are 
made use of by the Tourangeaux as cellars, store-rooms, green- 
houses, and habitations. Most of these latter have only one 
story, but in some cases they have two, and the interior is 
remarkably comfortable and roomy. The staircase is cut out of 
the rock, and the traveller strolling among the vineyards on the 
cliff above is astonished to find smoke emerging from chimneys 
at his feet. 

To the passer-by these cliffs, as seen from the banks of the 
Loire, are extremely fascinating. In some places the ivy, allowed 
to grow wild, overhangs the brow of the rock with its luxuri- 
ant foliage, while tufts of wild flowers, wallflowers and valerian, 
spring out from every crack or ledge, relieving the dull back- 
ground with bright patches of color. In other parts, where 
man has interfered, terraces, rich with trees and flowers, succeed 
each other, half way up the cliff. Especially is this the case 
when we have passed the town of Tours, with its fine bridge 
and old cathedral, and are on ^^ road to Vouvray. But we 
have not gone {■ more, before the most 

ancient of the cf 'ottoes of Marmoutier. 

It was in tl Romans first came 



1903] The Grottoes of Marmoutier. 615 

across a tribe of Celts, the Turons, established on the banks of 
the Loire. These they civilized ; making a road, building an 
aqueduct, and founding a town, which they called, first Csesaro- 
dunum, then " Urbs Turones," or city of the Turons, whence 
the modern name of Tours. With the coming of the Romans 
dates also the entrance of Christianity into that part of Gaul ; 
and St. Gatian, one of the pioneers of the faith, became the 
first Bishop of Tours, in the third century. His life was any- 
thing but peaceful, however; persecutions were frequent and 
severe, and the shepherd and his flock were often obliged to. 
seek places of concealment, in the line of rocks which we have 
mentioned above, and which extends for many miles along the 
right bank of the Loire. 

At that time the cliffs were not exposed to the public gaze 
as they are to-day. The road from Orleans to Angers followed 
the heights above the river ; while down in the valley thick 
woods and impenetrable brushwood masked the entrance to the 
caves in which these early Christians hid. These cells, hollowed 
out in the irock, partly by nature but mostly by the hand of 
man, were the first places of worship used in Touraine. In one 
of them St. Gatian was accustomed to say his Mass. But the 
saint whose fame has attracted pilgrims for sixteen hundred 
years to the grottoes of Marmoutier is the glorious Martin, the 
Apostle of Gaul. St. Martin was a native of Hungary. His 
father having moved with his family to the north of Italy, 
the son was obliged to serve in the Roman army, and was 
sent with the troops into Gaul. The parents were pagans, 
but Martin himself had early been instructed in the faith of 
Christ, although, according to the custom in those days, he re- 
mained a catechumen for several years. 

During his stay at Amiens he was remarkable for the purity 
of his life, and the following anecdote is a striking illustration 
of his great charity to the poor. It was in the midst of a 
severe winter, says the historian Sulpicius Severus, that Martin, 
marching with some of the troops out of the gate of Amiens, 
met a poor man scantily clad and trembling with the cold. 
The passers-by took no heed of the wretched creature's appeals 
to their charity, seeing which the young soldier, touched with 
compassion, drew his sword and divided his cloak into two 
halves, one of which he gave to the beggar. 

In the following night Martin saw, in his sleep, Jesus Christ 
wrapped in that portion of the cloak which had been given 



6i6 The Grottoes of Marmoutier. [Feb., 

away, and he heard our Lord say to the angels who accom- 
panied him : '' Martin, who is yet a catechumen, clad me with 
this garment" This vision encouraged our saint to leave the 
army of Caesar and to dedicate himself entirely to the service 
of God. He was baptized by St. Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers, 
and throughout the remainder of his long life St. Martin labored 
incessantly for the conversion of souls. But it would take us 
too far from our subject if we followed his career during the 
seventeen years which elapsed before the inhabitants of Tours 
elected him as their bishop, on the death of St. Litorius. Lured 
from the monastery at Liguge by a stratagem, and carried in 
triumph to Tours, St. Martin dreaded the effects of a close contact 
with the world, and bethought himself of the almost impene- 
trable woods in which St. Gatian and his companions had lived, 
and in which the broad, sandy Loire in front and the steep 
rock behind would effectually guard him from intruders. 

He took up his abode in a hole in the rock, not far from 
the cell of St. Gatian, and there the report of his sanctity at- 
tracted so many disciples that cells were built in the woods 
outside the rocks. This was the origin of St. Martin's monas- 
tery, or *' Marmoutier." 

Alas! a few towers and a splendid old doorway alone re- 
main to bear witness to the size and beauty of the abbey, built 
on the spot by St. Perpeta, one of the successors of St. Martin. 
The pilgrim, however, may yet visit St. Gatian's cell and kneel 
on the rock where St. Martin was wont to pray, and even to 
entertain heavenly visitors. Now it was St. Peter and St. Paul 
who visited him in his cell; and several times Our Lady her- 
self, accompanied by St. Agnes and St. Thecla, favored him with 
visions. The father of lies, however, enraged at the holy 
bishop's zeal and piety, laid a snare for his humility, and ap- 
peared to the saint, passing himself off as our Lord Jesus Christ, 
and wearing a royal mantle and a golden crown. But St. Mar- 
tin was not deceived. He put the devil to flight by these 
words, full of faith : " I will believe it to be my Lord," he 
said to the apparition, '* when I shall see him, not clad in 
purple and wearing a diadem but bearing on his body the 
marks of his Passion." 

Meanwhile the fame of St. Martin spread abroad, so that 
even from the most distant countries of Europe visitors came 
to Marmoutier. Among these was St. Patrick, who spent four 
yea«-e '« <-*^is monastery before undertaking the great work of 



1903.] The Grottoes OF Marmoutier. 617 

his life, the conversion of Ireland. Nor has this saint been for- 
gotten in Touraine, for in a village on the Loire (St. Patrice) 
is still shown a hawthorn bush, which has blossomed miracu- 
lously every winter since the day on which St. Patrick rested 
under its shelter, on his way to Marmoutier. Another visitor 
to the monastery was Sulpicius Severus, who wrote St. Martin's 
life. This young man gave up rank and a good position at the 
bar in order to retire to a monastery in Aquitaine. His venera- 
tion for St. Martin, whose eloquence and zeal had turned him 
from his worldly ways, was unbounded, and he never failed, at 
least once a year, to spend some days at Marmoutier. St. 
Martin, on his part, cherished a great affection for the his- 
torian, and confided to him his difficulties, the visions he had 
been favored with, and the many trials he had to endure 
through the malice of the evil one. After the death of the 
holy bishop, Sulpicius Severus, inconsolable for his loss, left his 
monastery in Aquitaine, and spent the last years of his life in 
St. Martin's cell at Marmoutier. 

The successor of St. Martin in the See of Tours wais St. 
Brice. Brice had been taken care of by our saint from his 
earliest childhood, but as he grew up vanity, sloth, and the 
love of riches stifled all his good qualities. Even after he had 
received Holy Orders this unruly disciple continued to lead 
the same manner of life, and he more than once repaid St. 
Martin's unfailing kindness by rude and mocking words. 

The following anecdote is related by Sulpicius Severus : One 
day a sick man came to the monastery, who, meeting Brice, 
asked him where he could find the holy bishop. " If you are 
looking for that madman," answered Brice, '' there he is yonder, 
gazing up to heaven like a lunatic." 

The sick man made no rejoinder to this gibe, but hastening 
to St. Martin, was immediately restored by him to health. 
Then said our saint to Brice, "Now do I look like a mad- 
man ? " And as the young man endeavored to deny his words, 
St. Martin added : " I have prayed for thee, Brice, that thou 
shouldst be converted from thy ways. Know that after my 
death thou shalt be elected Bishop of Tours, but thou shalt 
have much to suffer in thy episcopate." 

Brice laughed at this prophecy and went from bad to worse, 
but our saint's admirable patience won at length the victory, 
and the disciple improved so much in his conduct that he was 

VOL. LXXVI.— 40 



6i8 The Grottoes of Marmoutier. [Feb., 

chosen by the inhabitants of Tours for their bishop, after the 
death of St Martin. Then it was, however, that the second 
part of the prophecy came true, for the errors of his past 
life rose up against Brice, and the slanders spread by his 
enemies obliged him to leave Tours and go into exile for several 
years. This trial, however, only purified his heart and added 
to his merits, and after his return to his diocese he kept for 
himself a place of retirement in a hollow, dug out of the rock 
which is known as the '' Grotto of Brice." 

It was when St. Brice was still alive that the wonderful 
death occurred of the seven cousins of St Martin — ^three 
brothers of one family and four of another. These seven 
cousins had left Hungary in their youth, and had sought out 
their illustrious relative in his solitude of Marmoutier. They 
were received by St. Martin with open arms, and lodged in a 
grotto adjoining the cell in which St Gatian had lived a century 
before. Here they remained for forty years, their love for each 
other being so ^reat that the knowledge that death would one 
day separate them, alone troubled their happiness. St. Martin, 
however, who had watched over the cousins during his life, 
never ceased to intercede for them after his death, and twenty- 
five years later, on the eve of his feast, he appeared to them 
in their cell and bade them confess their sins, for at break 
of day they would all appear before God. The cousins rejoiced 
exceedingly at these tidings, and having sent for a priest, they 
spent the night in preparing for death. When morning came 
the priest said Mass, and when the seven had devoutly received 
Holy Communion, they laid themselves down at the foot of the 
altar and their souls passed away while they were at their prayers. 
Thus peacefully did they die, and so fresh and lifelike was their 
appearance after death that the people who came in thousands, 
attracted by this miracle, exclaimed on seeing them : " Truly 
these men are not dead, but are asleep ! " And thus it is that 
the oratory in which the seven cousins had lived and died, and 
where their holy bodies were laid, has been called by the voice 
of posterity "The Chapel of the Seven Sleepers." 

St Martin did not die in his cell in the rock, but at Candes, 
a little village some miles further down the river. After his 
death several towns wished to possess his remains; but the 
superior claims of Tours being admitted, the whole population 
"■ * to meet the body of their beloved bishop and a 



1903.] THE Grottoes of Marmoutier. 619 

splendid basilica was erected over his tomb in the heart of the 
city. The pilgrims, however, who pray at his shrine never 
fail to cross the river, in order to visit the cell in which the 
saint had lived, and to drink from the fountain dug out of the 
rock by St Martin himself. This spring of fresh water exists 
to the present day. But one more grotto is mentioned by 
historians. This was the cell of St. Leobard, dug out of the 
rock, just above that of the Seven Sleepers, and reached by a 
staircase cut in the rock. 

St. Leobard was a nobleman of Auvergne, and had been 
at one time chancellor to Theodebert, King of Austrasia. Out 
of devotion to St. Martin, he came to Marmoutier and took up 
his abode in a cell, outside the monastery. There he lived for 
twenty-two years, giving himself up to meditation and prayer, 
and employing the remainder of his time in copying the manu- 
scripts of the Fathers of the church, and in excavating the 
rock, in order to increase the size of his grotto. St. Leobard is 
the last mentioned of the hermits in the rock. But the cliff 
was used once again as a hiding place by the last of the monks 
of St. Martin's when, in the time of the Normans, RoUo swept 
down on the banks of the Loire, destroying the monastery and 
putting its inhabitants to the sword. Rebuilt by Eudes de Blois 
in the tenth century, Marmoutier was restored by the Bene- 
dictines to its ancient splendor. But in 1791 the great Revolu- 
tion spread throughout the land, and the monks were dispersed, 
never to return. The beautiful abbey was sacked and pillaged; 
and the grottoes, desecrated and profaned, were left to crumble 
to pieces. 

Yet when I entered St. Martin's cell the other day not a 
stone was out of place, and the afternoon sun, shining through 
a stained glass window, lit up a little altar before which I knelt 
and prayed. The nuns of the Sacred Heart have bought up 
the ruins, and by their care the cells of these early saints have 
been rescued from oblivion. May St. Martin bless them for the 
good deed and save them in these days of persecution from the 
fate of so many other religious orders ! Monastery bells are 
silent, convents are empty, the Jesuits and Carmelites have led 
the way into exile. O St. Martin ! do not abandon the land 
you evangelized^ but obtain from God that once more Touraine 
may be the " garden and delight " of what may it no longer be 
irony to call '* Catholic France " ! 



LouyAiN: Zigzag notes on [Feb., 



LOIVAIN: ZIGZAG NOTES ON A BELGIAN UNIVERSITY 
TOWN. 

BV REV. JOSEPH GORDIAN DALEY. 

UAINTNESS seems to be the traditional preroga- 
tive of every city of Belgium. To speak of 
quaint Antwerp, quaint Bruges, quaint Mechlin 
is like predicating that the rose is red and the 
violet blue. Were we therefore to state that 
Louvain is a quaint old town, the natural ejaculation might be 
echoed back: "Of course it is; Louvain is a city in King 
Leopold's dominion." 

The city is not without its modern aspect. The majestic 
railway station is as iine a building as a tourist would exact ; 
and the entire neighborhood of the station is redolent of 
modernity. Stately railway stations are of frequent recurrence 
in Belgium. Their size and elegance speak well for the genius 
of the native architects. Many hundreds of thousands of francs 
have been expended to erect them ; yet, in spite of the lavish 
cost, the little country seems all the richer for these elaborate 
stations. Travelling itself is no more comfortable in Belgium 
than it ought to be. On the subject of such comforts, how- 
ever, I do not set myself up as an authority ; for most of my 
travelling was done in student days, and generally too in stu- 
dent fashion ; that is to say, in the third-class compartments. 
Our custom of usually travelling in third-class was jocularly 
attributed to the fact that there wasn't any fourth; it was also 
maintained that the third>class compartments were not a whit 
slower than the others. In these third-class compartments we 
sat in two rows, knee to knee, facing each other. There was 
no cushion whatsoever on the seat, and the plank seat itself 
was really not quite wide enough for comfortable seating. 
Still, we did not mind these petty trifles, as long as we were 
whirling through some historic region ; we did not care what 
we were sitting on, for our young heads at least were aloft in 
the clouds. 

Just in front of the depot, adorning a spacious open square, 



1903.] A Belgian University Town. 



Thb City Hall in Louvain, 

is the towering bronze figure of Van der Wcyer, a native of 
Louvatn, and one of the men to whom the country owes its 
freedom. The Declaration of Independence dates in Belgium 
from the year 1830; and Van der Weyer was one of the 
signers. The greedy Dutch, to whom the Allies had allotted 
Belgium in 1814, simply did nothing but plunder Belgium for 
the next sixteen years; taxation became extortionate, and then 
the intermeddling with religion finally determined the people 
to rise. The Flemings of the north, constituting the Germanic 
element in Belgian citizenship, and the Walloons of the south. 



622 LOUVAIN : ZIGZAG NOTES ON [Feb., 

constituting its Latin element, joined hands for once, in all sin- 
cerity and drove the avaricious Lutherans back home to the 
dikes of the Zuyder Zee. In this attaining of national inde- 
pendence the Belgians were backed up by the armies of France, 
much the same as the American Colonials had been in the days 
of Yorktown. Van der Weyer of Louvain was ever afterwards 
conspicuous in Belgian politics until his death in 1874, remain- 
ing always a Liberal and fighting hard against the influence of 
the clergy. The tenets of laicization, schools with the religious 
element eliminated, civil marriage, divorce, and unlimited suf- 
frage, were hfe life- long contentions. The " Catholics "—em- 
ploying ' the name here merely in its political sense — argued 
that to erect a statue to Van der Weyer at ^ouvain, the seat 
of a great Catholic university, was an affront- to the religious 
sentiment of the country. The Liberals retorted that the man's 
distingtlished patriotism was everything, and that while differing 
from tlie church authorities in. political principiles, he was yet 
after all a co-religionist with them in point of creed. 

In. Belgium a man's religion is taken for granted; so that 
to say a . man i^. a Catholic * means simply that he belongs to 
the conservative party in^ politics. In the same way un bon 
journal or un journal catholigue means, not necessarily a good 
newspaper nor a religious gazette, but merely an organ which 
in politics favors the 'Catholic or clerical party. The responsi- 
ble cause for such political alignment is the intimate relations 
between church and state. Individually the t:lergy, good, strong, 
clean, well-educated men, and still possessing immense influence 
over the people, deprecate the necessity which drags them into 
the maelstrom of politics. Much, however, as they love retire- 
ment, the religious and mof^l interests of the country are 
paramount in their consideration, and to defend these against 
the attacks of ever aggressive radicalism becomes to them a 
conscientious duty, and one from which, be it said, to their 
credit, they never attempt to retreat. To the Liberals, therefore, 
the clergy are decidedly opposed, regarding them as men of 
destructive principles, menacing the nation with ominous forces, 
impiety, irreligion, and secret-societyism. 

Elections take place on Sunday. It is the only day ever 
chosen for this purpose. No laborer would think of "taking a 
day off " merely to vote ; time is too valuable for that. At the 
churches, particularly in the rural parts, the hours of the Masses 



1903.] A BELGIAN UNIVERSITY TOWN. 



on electioii-days are set earlier than usual and the services are 
shortened ; in the country districts, too, the clergy bestir them- 
selves energetically to "get out the vote." There is no doubt 
but that their campaigning has telling effects; for it is always 
outside the cities that the Catholic ticket polls its heavy major- 
ities, the farmers voting like a single man. The cities them- 
selves are Liberal ; wherever there are mines or factories the 
working hands are solidly Liberal, and during the heat of elec- 
tion campaigning the latter show themselves very insulting and 
very hostile to any one wearing the soutane. The city of 
Louvain, despite its long succession of religious traditions, is 
rarely able to poll much of a Catholic vote. The mayor whom 
it returned successively for several years was an out-and-out 
Liberal, although it must be confessed that he proved an ex- 
cellent executive. This mayor was known to be fanatically 
devoted to Freemasonry; indeed, I have seen the Masonic 
emblems sculptured in stone upon the facade of bis beautiful 
house. Nevertheless he was a regular attendant every Sunday 
at High Mass in the Church of St. Pierre, Louvain's historic* 



624 Lou VAIN: ZIGZAG NOTES ON [Feb., 

temple. Of course he never went to confession; still, it w?is 
very evident to my mind that the man bad at one time made 
his First Communion, and it looked very much as if some day 
he intended to make his last. 

Louvain has all the appearance of an overgrown country 
town; one might call it Sleepy Hollow, notwithstanding t^e 
fact that the latest census credits it with a population of forty- 
two thousand. In many things it is decidedly backward. There 
is not a single steam fire-engine in the town. If there were,^ it 
would be a question where to turn for water. There are great, 
clumsy, picturesque pumps at nearly every corner, and arotinid 
them one sees buxom figures gossiping, for all the world like^a 
picture from Va^n Ost^de or Jan Steen; bijt hydrants, as. we 
understand them, are unknown. There are no sewers. Electric 
lights are still future possibilities. A narrow-gauge tramway, 
operated by steam, now runs from the railway station along the 
southern boundary of the city, and turning thence at right 
angles passes the Porte de Namur into Heverld and the subur- 
ban villages. This accommodation is a concession to the Zeit- 
geist ; but the running schedule is limited to five trips per day. 
Within the city proper the nearest approach to rapid transit is 
a primitive horse- car which runs up the Rue de la Station as 
far as the Hotel de Ville. The distance is merely a step. You 
are hardly inside and have handed your ten centimes of fare to 
the conductor when the journey ends. The line really accom- 
modates no one ; it makes no attempt to traverse the city, but 
sets you down at quite a considerable ways from the univer- 
sity ; and more remote still are the American College, the 
church of the Jesuits, and the B^guinage. Up and down that 
single track the car goes rumbling from morning till night, un- 
hampered by a single siding. You could stand at one end of 
the line and throw a stone to the other end. 

The stores at Louvain are really sights. I do not know 
anything prettier • than the window displays. The entire stock 
of the establishment may be concentrated in the limits of that 
display; but no matter, the arrangement is sure to be tasteful. 
I have paused often, even in some dingy back alley, to admire 
the beauty of the window arrays. The queerest combinations 
are sometimes met. One store- keeper, for instance, will deal 
exclusively in kettles and hats, another in stationery and 
clothes-lines; where the connection lies between the two arti- 



1903-] ^ BELGIAN UNIVERSITY TOWN. 625 



A FLIUtSH PBASANT GtRL IH THE MARKI-r-FLACB. 

cles of merchandise is a mystery unsolved. I remember a 
beautiful store in the Rue de Namur : one of its two front 
windows contained .an elaborate display of lanterns — every form, 
every q^uality ; the other window contained every description 
of lace caps and Tinen caps for old women. A store in the 
Rue de Malines had one window fitted up with a stock of 
umbrellas; the other window was filled with boots and shoes. 
Another store in the same street had one window filled with 
crockery and table ware; the other window was filled- with 



626 LOUVAIN: ZIGZAG NOTES ON [Feb., 

medical paraphernalia, artificial limbs, and, strange, lugubrious 
sight, an assortment of glass eyes ! 

The sight-seer at Louvain has certainly one treasure to be- 
hold which is not duplicated the world over, and that is the 
Hotel de Ville. In size it is not as pretentious as Ghent, 
Bruges, or Brussels, but in the richness of detail it goes far 
beyond any of these ; and in that wealth of detail it reaches to 
a limit which is nothing short of marvellous. The elegance, 
the harmony, the beauty, the purity of its architectural lines 
go aboye anything which a writer might say in its praise. The 
exterior ornamentation simply abounds with exquisitely sculp- 
.tured figures, 'set into the walls at graceful intervals. When 
Napoleoji beheld that H6tel de Ville he H exclaimed :" Ah, 
that 's perfect." Then, shaking his head despairingly, he added : 
" I 'm afi-aid it's a little bit too heavy to cart off to Paris ; but 
that is. where it belongs — in Paris, the heart of the world, the 
centre of all , thai is art and civilization.'- One who sees the 
Hotel de VtUe at Louvain will always see it; because he will 
never forget it. Louvain is as unique among the city- halls of 
Europe as Milan is among cathedrals. 

The dominating fame of Louvain attaches to its university. 
Founded early in the fifteenth century, it has ever since been 
a factor in the world's history. . For quite a period it could 
number an annual attendance of 6,000. We must remember 
that in days long gone by, Flanders and Lombardy vied for the 
world's commercial supremacy. Antwerp was neck-and-neck 
with Venice ; and Louvain itself, once a city of 200,000 inhabi- 
tants, was all astir with prosperous weavers, toiling for the mar- 
ket of Antwerp. • To-day the university can boast about 1,800 
students. In the course of its career it has encountered signal 
opposition. The chief of the soi-disant Holy Roman Empire, 
Joseph II., who from his palace in Vienna carried on such a 
disastrous flirtation with the Jansenists, was first to suppress 
Louvain ; and when Doumouriez, after his cannonade of Valmy, 
pushed on eastward and overran the Belgian lowlands with his 
horde of victorious revolutionaries, the squelching of the uni- 
versity was effectively continued. It was like an entirely new 
institution when the Dutch resurrected it in 181 7. Since then 
it has gone ahead again to prosperous fortunes, and at the 
present hour it ranks with the first universities of the world. 
Hebbelyncky the president, is a man of brilliant reputation as 



>903.] A Belgian university Town. 



MCR. HEBBBLYNCK, RtCTOB OF THE UNIVEBSITV. 

an Egyptologist, deeply versed in Coptic researches and an 
authority on the hieroglyphics. A tireless worker himself, his 
go^el is ever one of hard labor. In a recent address to the 
School of Electro-Technology his one great injunction was : 
"Shun idleness; multam maJitiatn docuit otiositas." 

Thoroughness seems to be the characteristic. The students 
take the long way around to reach their sheepskins; and the 
consequence is that where you find a professional man in Bel- 
gium, you find an individual of very superior education. In 
addttion to the old-time branches of law, medicine, and di- 
vinity, there is at Louvain a School of Diplomacy and Con- 



628 LOUVAIN: ZIGZAG NOTES ON [Feb., 

sular Studies, which is fast becoming popular, and provides a 
class of instruction long needed. Then, too, there are a Col- 
lege of Brewing (Brasserie) and a College of Farming (Agrono- 
mie). There is an ever- increasing demand for these scientific 
farmers, I am told. They receive immense salaries; but their 
sphere of employment is often in distant regions, constant calls 
comipg from Russia, India, and South America, requesting such 
graduates to take charge of vast plantations. 

The presence of the College of Brewing is entirely apropos; 
for in industrial circles Louvain is catalogued as one of the 
beer cities of the world, ranking with Munich and Pilsen. The 
sign, " Louvain," therefore, which may be seen in so many 
caf^s between Paris and Cologne, is significant of Louvain 's 
white beer. Baedecker's page styles it **a sickly drink"; and 
though I have never tasted of it myself, I have met with in- 
formants who coincided thoroughly with the Guide Book. One 
student told me that it tasted like the soap-suds which used to 
get into his mouth long ago whtn blowing bubbles as a child. 
Another characterized it as " harmless, but poisonous : not fit 
to drink." Still another studctnt, an embryo physician, more 
syllogistically inclined, when I asked him if the white beer of 
Louvain was a beverage of much virtue, replied : 

** Distinguo : for utilitarian purposes concedo. It is a first- 
class thing on a hot day to assuage the thirst of a hard-work- 
ing laborer — v.g,, a ploughman or a stone-cutter. 

" For recreative purposes, nego. For instance, if I, a studi- 
ous collegian hailing from that unequalled city of which your 
own Longfellow wrote, and of which some other lesser poet 
very correctly exclaims: * Formosis Bruga puellis gaudetl* — if 
I were to lift a toast to the fair ones of Bruges, it would never 
be with a beaker of Louvain's bleached fermentation!" 

The students of Louvain are little given to athletics. Occa- 
sionally a few of the bloods take a saddle horse and go for an 
afternoon spin on the boulevard. The old ramparts which at 
one time encircled the city are now turned into peaceful boule- 
vards, delightfully adapted for a drive or a stroll. There is a 
Club nautique^ with a fair-sized boat-house on the pleasant ship- 
canal which connects Louvain with the sea ; here too one meets 
with collegians whose fai^cy favors the oar. In winter there is 
skating, in which also a great many of the university men seem 
to indulge .with great ardor. They are very fleet skaters^ and 



1903.] A BELGIAN UNIVERStTY TOWN. 629 

race well on thin-bladed, long-projecting skates. Figure-skating 
is a foreign art to them, however. Sometimes an American 
seminarian or an English boy from the swell college of the 
Josephites would give an exhibition of figure-skating on the ice. 
His skill would soon be sure to bring around him a spell-bound 
multitude of admiring beholders. I knew a young American 
priest, at that time a post-graduate at the university, who was 
at once lionized whenever he appeared on the ice. 

On half-holidays in spring the students used to go out bc< 
casionally to the park of the 
Duchesse d'Arembei^ for 
an afternoon of archery. 
The sight was well worth 
seeing. With their bows 
slung over their shoulders, 
everybody gaily chatting 
and smoking, they would 
crowd along through the 
middle of the street, pre- 
ceded by a band of must- , 
cians. Such an occasion 
was sure to be a gala event 
for every little lassie and 
every tiny urchin in the 
neighborhood. Bareheaded 
— barefooted too when not 
in clattering wooden shoes 
— they would pour into the 
street by hundreds and go 
capering giddily along in a 

simple happy dance ahead mgk. castowbls. vtce-rbctor. 

of the band. It was a scene 

from the Pied Piper of Hamelin in real life. In pretty little 
lines of nine or ten they would join hands, girls with girls and 
boys with boys, all frisking along to the music, like a battalion 
of intoxicated brownies. The throng of dancing midgets would 
increase tn number as they went tripping merrily on. At the 
gate of the city their carnival would dissolve ; and the little 
ones, contented and perhaps out of breath, would scatter back 
into the by-lanes to their homes of squalor. 

The strength of Louvaia as a school of Catholic theology 



630 LOUVAIN: ZIGZAG NOTES ON [Feb., 

cannot be exaggerated. Its equal is to be found at Rome per- 
haps, but its superior is nowhere. There are at Rome, of course, 
advantages which a seminarian does not get in the Belgian 
university: such as the city itself; the multitude of public 
monuments, libraries, galleries, and museums; the eminent dig- 
nitaries whom the ' student sees or maybe comes in contact with ; 
the thorough spirit of ecclesiasticism, the intimate acquaintance 
with church forms and traditions, the familiarization with splen- 
did ecclesiastical ceremonies. In these things Lou vain can make 
no superior vaunt; her distinction means merely the thorough- 
ness of her course, the excellence of her professorships, and the 
generally earnest application of her student-body, men devoted 
to books as I have never seen them elsewhere. At Louvain 
the test for degrees is extreme in its rigor. The public defend- 
ing of theses enters largely into this test. It always seemed to 
me that in open disputations of this kind the possession of that 
quality which the Irish call "the gift of the gab" was an at- 
tainment much to be prized, and that the easy handling of the 
Latin speech might be set down as another very fortunate gift ; 
yet I have seen good, fluent Latinists go utterly to pieces in 
these disputations; and I have, on the other hand, seen Irish 
lads — Irish Jesuits from the novitiate classes in particular, men 
whose stock of Latin was sparse and defective, — I have seen 
these Irish scholastics cover themselves with glory. No matter 
who the defender was at» these public theses, he invariably got 
my sympathy ; and I must say too that he always reminded 
me' of the " African dodger " at a country fair — everybody 
crowding anxiously up, only too eager for that brutal opportu-- 
nity to seize the projectiles and " hit him on the head." 

The advantages derived from being in close association with 
a great university have caused most of the religious orders, at 
one time or another, to erect special houses of their own at^ 
Louvain ; in much the same manner, the Catholic University 
established in recent years near Washington, and now under 
the presidency of the well-known Mgr. Conaty, seems to be in- 
ducing several of the religious orders to settle and erect estab- 
lishments near our own Capitol. The Jesuits and the Domini- 
cans were especially in evidence at Louvain, and added no in- 
considerable amount to that city's scholarship. I cannot say that 
the young scholastics belonging to these orders really took de- 
grees, nor that the rules of their particular societies would per- 



1903.] A Belgian University Town. 631 



mit them such a vain gewgaw as the attaching of titles to their 
names ; but I do know that on occasions they were called upon 
to attempt tests which, if successful, would have entitled them 
to degrees. Whenever a Jesuit held public defence, there was 
sure to be a whtte-robed Dominican in sight with a bundle 
of handy objections. It meant Thomist vtrsus Molinist, and it 
was bound to be a first- class duel, sans trevt ni mtrei. All who 



632 LOUVAIN: ZIGZAG NOTES ON [Feb., 

enjoyed good sparring crowded eagerly to these contests; and 
a spirit and rivalry showed itself such as one sees at a Yale- 
Harvard match game. The logicians were trained to do battle 
royal,. On particular occasions the hall would be jammed with 
people of distinguished quality. Erudite country cur^s would 
leave their accustomed seclusion ; abb^s of literary note would 
pour, in; bigwigs' from the city pastorates would attend, and 
professors with many scholarly initials tagged to their names 
would watch and listen ; there might be half a dozen bishops 
in the front chairs, and behind them a row of canons wearing 

capes of honor. The Papal Nuncio from Brussels sometimes 

- ' ' ' 
came, clad always in the full insignia of his office. At times 

there were visitors from great distances. Learned guests and 

Kit ^ • ^ . 

doughty objectors might generally be expected from Blynbeck, 
Holland, where riiany of the German Jesuits, expelled from their 
own' country during the Kulturkampf, were living in retirement. 
It was sure to be an event of great interest and magnitude. 

The American College of Lpuvain, now presided over by 
Canon Jules De Becker, D.D., Ph.D., is a conspicuous institution. 
Its student membership, aggregating about a hundred picked 
men, is made up for the most part of young Europeans whose 
purpose it 'is to fit themselves there for the missionary dioceses 
of the United States. There is always a minority sprinkling of 
American-born young men along with them. The course of 
studies used to embrace certain classes at the Jesuits', others at 
the university, and still more at the college itself; at present 
nearly all the classes tend to the university. Mgr. De Neve, a 
fine; old gentleman who prided himself on his blunt roughness^ 
but who was merely straightforward and outspoken, held long 
the presidency of this eminent college, and engineered a great 
deal of its success. Mgr. De Neve had spent years in Michigan, 
serving a considerable time as vicar-general of Detroit. He 
understood the American character thoroughly ; and his heart 
and soul were wrapt up in the well-being of the American 
missions. Despite Some few provoking absurdities, he was yet 
a very excellent man ; born and schooled a diplomat, keen in 
perception, versatile in epigram, and a fluent master of several 
languages. It was his practice to disguise English with a con- 
firmed Down-East accent, the cleverest of counterfeits. He was 
wont to term himself "an educated peasant,** though indeed 
there was about him an ease and gentility of manners speaking 



1903.] A Belgian University Town. 633 

more of the feudal patrician. In the chiteaux of the nobles he 
was a welcome visitor ; and sometimes when dining out he 
would bring an American lad along with him in order to 
stimulate inquiries concerning the interesting topic uppermost 
in his thoughts His friends of the nobility were good con- 
tributors to his wortc ; - aad of that work he was as proud as a 



SOHB Relics or Spanish Abckitictdbe. 

monarch. "The main purpose of my college," he once ssid to 
me, " is to educate young men for the American episcopate " ; 
and when I searched the Hst and counted up the startling 
number of his alumni who had become prelates, I agreed that 
the " Old Man," as his students fondly called him and as he 
liked to be called, was entirely correct in his statement. The 
only establishment surpassing it as a nursery of bishops is the 
famous American College in the Via del' Umilta at Rome ; even 
that is but slightly ahead. 

The annals of Louvain enumerate many masters. It has 
belonged to the nondescript dukes of Brabant, and successively 
to the nations of Spain, Austria, France, and Holland. The 
celebrated Irish Brigade, which knocked about Europe for over 
fifty years and made Fontenoy possible, helped to defend 
Tou LXXTi.— 41 



634 LOUVAIN : NOTES ON A UNIVERSITY TOWN. [Feb- 

Louvain once against the Dutch. One of the city's minor 
streets still bears the strange appellative, i?i/^ des Dominicains 
IrlandaiSf although at present there are no Irish Dominicans in 
any part of the Belgian kingdom. During the days of trial and 
exile which succeeded Cromwell, many Irish were sent to 
Louvain to be educated; and one of these exiles, Thomas 
Stapleton by name, became Rector Magnificus of the university, 
a dignity which rendered him of national prominence. His term 
of office was very successful, and a handsome memorial was 
erected to him and still bears public commemoration of his 
services. 

The princes of the Spanish domination were very partial to 
Louvain. The Emperor Charles V. spent much of his youth 
there. His boyhood tutor was that Adrian Dedel — Adrian of 
Utrecht, as he is called from his birthplace — whose father, 
emigrating to Flanders and becoming a burgher of Louvain 
shortly after his son's birth, reared the latter a thorough Flem- 
ing. Dignities followed fast in that son's life; university dis- 
tinction, the tutelage of the prince, a chancellorship, a city 
vicariate, a prelacy in a Spanish archdiocese, and then finally, 
to crown his life's honors, the tiara of the Papacy. He lives in 
history as Pope Adrian VI. ; and the epitaph upon his tomb at 
Rome states that he considered his being called to reign his 
greatest misfortune. 

On the four sides of the market-place at Louvain are yet 
to be observed many houses of graceful Spanish architecture. 
Their antique fa9ades rim in that paved quadrangle with a very 
picturesque framing. That crowded picture, too, is well worth 
seeing on almost any randon forenoon. The plump, simple face 
which inspired the Madonna of Peter Paul Rubens is numerously 
in evidence ; and the men, with their dull blue cambric blouses, 
look very important as they haggle over beets and cabbages. 
Ouida's " Dog of Flanders " is there too, no insignificant part of 
that spirited scene. Truly the canine has more than a dog's 
life of it in Louvain. He is a beast of burden first and a 
domestic custodian afterwards. Early morning always sees 
hundreds of these poor dogs harnessed to small carts and 
headed for the city market-place with a load of fresh vege- 
tables. I have often wondered which they merited the more — 
admiration or pity. 




HlGHT. 

BY ALBERT REYNAUD. 

ELL me, Night, if but in whisper, 
The great secret that you own. 
Many a time we *ve sat together, 
You and I alone. 
Will it ever be unspoken 

While we two our watches keep — 
Die with silence still unbroken 

Far away from sister, Sleep ? 
I have loved you in lone hours. 

When no other one would stay ; 
To your vigils gave the powers 

That, beseems, I owed the Day, 
Uncomplaining, still remaining, 

I watched every mood you know ; 
Searching still your glances waning 

Just afore the morning's glow. 
Still with anxious eyes beseeching 

For the answer unexprest — 
For the answer overreaching — 

That one word to make me blest. 
That one word, you. Night, seem hiding 

From our leaden, mortal eyes; 
That one word thro' all abiding 

Veils from us, Night — Paradise. 
For it is a single word. Night, 

Which you must conceal from view ; 
And with such dark silent might 

Hide your dearest secret too. 
For it must be but a word. Night, 

But a magic, wondrous word. 
While you darken lovers' sight. 

Holds expectant, though unheard. 
Word it is to wait a life for. 

And to watch till your lips part; 
Word that will allay all strife for 

Other loves of human heart. 
Oh ! to those who *ve k^pt the tryst, 

Yoa will say it at the last ; 
With Death's troth in morning mist: — 

Love is here though life has passed. 



636 A Pen picture of English Life. [Feb., 



A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE IN THE FOURTEENTH 
AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES. 

BV WILLIAM SETON, LL.D. 

THE SUCCEEDING CENTURY— 1366 to 1466. 

E have come now to the year of our Lord 1466, 
when the nobles of England are destroying one 
another in what is known as the War of the 
Roses — the merciless civil war between the Houses 
of York and Lancaster — and, disgusted by so 
much bloodshed, let us enter the Benedictine Abbey of Durham 
and pass a peaceful day with the monks. The bell that is ringing 
tells that midnight is passed, and the footsteps which echo along 
the corridor leading from the cells to the chapel are the foot- 
steps of the monks going to Matins — the night office — which 
marks the beginning of another day of prayer and of labor. 
Matins ended, we see them returning to their cells to have 
another sleep until the hour of five, when the bell will ring 
again for the office of Prime. After Prime the community as- 
sembles for a little while around the sub-prior, and now is held 
what is called the Daily Chapter, when faults are corrected, 
when affairs which interest the monastery are talked over, and 
when each monk is told what is to be his work through the day. 
And the day passes quickly enough. And when, after High 
Mass, we enter the refectory at ten o'clock — the hour for the 
principal meal — our appetite is more than keen, for our lungs 
have been pretty well exercised at Matins and at Prime. Nor 
do the monks get overmuch to eat, and they wait on one 
another by turns. Peasant's son and baron, gentleman and no- 
gentleman, are distinctions unknown within the abbey walls, 
and yonder tall, lean individual, whose deep-set, hungry eyes 
are fastened upon the platter of radishes coming towards him, 
is Father Godmund, while the one who is handing him the 
radishes is the eldest son of a nobleman named De Granville, 
whose ancestor came to England with William the Conqueror, 
Here let us observe that these two Benedictines — both gray- 
haired men — are great friends; their study doors adjoin, and 



1903.] A Pen Picture of English Life. 637 

in the big cupboards full of old manuscripts they often choose 
the same Doctors of the Church and the same profane authors 
to study; and they, and other monks like them, had more to 
do than we imagine with the revival of letters in the Middle 
Ages.* 

One stormy winter's day, in the year 1466, these two friends 
were seated side by side in what was called the Common 
House» which opened out of the cloister; and as they sat 
warming themselves at a wood fire their conversation was inter- 
rupted now and again by the violent blasts of wind which made 
everything rattle. But before we repeat any of their conversa- 
tion let us observe that Father Gbdmund was widely known as 
the parish doctor, and he had many patients among the poor 
people who flocked daily to the abbey for treatment ; while 
Father Granville, as he was familiarly known, had a magnifi- 
cent voice and gave singing lessons to the young men of the 
singing school, which was supported by the monastery. 

"Truly, the Black Death was a gigantic calamity," spoke 
Father Godmund. " Although 'tis more than a century since it 
disappeared the nation is still suffering from its effects." 

" Ay, the pestilence swept away half the population of the 
kingdom," said Father Granville. " And in our own community 
here everybody died except the abbot" 

"And it has had far-reaching effects," continued Father 
Godmund. "It has everywhere changed .the system of farm- 
ing; so many villeins perished that t^e nobles, as well as our 
own communities, have not been able to work their land on 
the same principles, and they have been obliged to give a good 
part of it up to sheep-grazing." 

" Ay ; and what is worse," said Father Granville, " the loss 
of so very many of the clergy by the Black Death has forced 
the bishops to give the vacant livings to young and half-edu- 
cated clerics, while our own monastic houses, by the diminution 
of our numbers, have found it hard to maintain the old disci- 
pline and to perform our religious duties as well as we did 
before the pestilence." f 

"Too true," sighed Father Godmund. "And to make mat- 
ters still worse, we have now this bitter feud between the 
houses of York and Lancaster, which has already lasted mofe 

*F. A. Gasquet, O.S.B., Henry VIII. and tht English Monasteriis. 
Mbid. 



638 A PEN Picture of English Life. [Feb., 

than ten years and which is making men so uncommonly fero- 
cious; nor does it show any sign of coming to an end." 

"Ay, this war among ourselves," said Father Granville, "is 
completing the work of the Black Death, for by sweeping 
away the pride and flower of our noble families it is surely 
tending to exalt the kingly power." 

"And the new nobility which the king will create," said 
Father Godmund, " will be nothing but political adventurers 
who, like enough, will have a covetous eye on church property." 

" Ay, nothing but political adventurers," repeated Father 
Granville, shaking his head. Then after a pause he added : 
"But besides the far-reaching effects of the Black Death and 
this interminable civil strife, there are to-day a good many 
people who still hold to the teaching of John Wycliffe, who 
declared, among other things, that the king should distribute 
ecclesiastical property among the laity. And although *tis 
almost a hundred years since that remarkable man did cease to 
preach, Wycliffism is by no means dead." 

" Ay," said Father Godmund, " Wycliffe did seize on weak 
points. He harped on certain abuses which have no doubt 
harmed religion in our country. Wily, money-loving counsellors 
did obtain the ear and- did' abuse the confidence of the Popej 
and they were given ecclesiastical benefices here, although those 
Italian clerics neither spoke our tongue nor lived among us, 
and I do fear lest it may have tended to weaken the ties which 
bind our people to the Head of the Church." • 

"Happily for his soul, WycKffe submitted in the end," 
said Father Granville. " He made a confession of faith before 
he died; and *tis said that he was a man of exemplary 
morals." f 

" I believe he was," said Father Godmund. " But is it not 
a thousand pities that the exahed rank which the Sovereign 
Pontiff holds as the spiritual ruler of almost the whole civilized 
world should be threatened by WyclifHsm ? And I do fear at 
times lest the evil which Wycliffe did in this kingdom may 
spread into France and Germany ; 'tis worse than the poison of 
a snake, which kills only the body." 

" Well, come what may," said Father Granville, " we have 
the Divine promise that the church will not perish." Here 
they both lajpsed into ^Itence for a few moments ; and while 

•Lingard, Edward III. fLingard. 



1903.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 639 

they were silent the tempest increased in fury; perhaps each 
one was striving to penetrate with his mind's eye the years 
which were coming — years of desolation for religion in England ; 
when this very monastery of Durham, grand even in its ruins, 
would be tenanted only by iooks. 

"Well, to speak of something more cheerful," said Father 
Godmund' presently, "I. have this day finished printing a dozen 
copies of The Canterbury Tales^ a poem composed by one 
Geoffrey Chaucer. Oh, what a useful invention printing is ! " 

" It is indeed," said Father Granville. " And how strange 
that we did have to wait until Anno Domini 1440 to see the 
first book printed." 

*' And now, if you like," continued Father Godmund, " I 
shall read you something else which I have put into print: 'tis 
a brief account of the uprising of the peasants in the last 
century." 

"Yes, do read it to me," said Father Granville, "for I 
consider that uprising a very interesting episode in our history." 

Here Father Godmund opened a little book and began to 
read as follows : " The revolt of the villeins in many parts of 
the kingdom of England in the year 1381, during the reign of 
Richard II., is worthy of note as being a wide- spread effort of 
the poor people to shake off the fetters in which they were 
bound by a warlike and haughty aristocracy. It may be 
broadly viewed as a movement — no doubt before its time — in 
the direction of a Christian commonwealth ; and more than one 
priest might have been seen marching at the h^ad of his congre- 
gation, while it is a noteworthy fact that in East Anglia several 
gentlemen of ancient family, and of their own free will, were 
leaders of the rebels. 

" Nor can this sudden outburst of energy on the part of the 
latter be understood unless we take into account the humble 
preachers of the Order of St. Francis, whose lives and sermons 
did proclaim the Brotherhood of Man in Christ. In the early 
summer of this year, 1381, the villeins in different parts of the 
kingdom were summoned by mysterious messengers to come 
together with such weapons as they were able to procure and 
to march upon London. And before many days thousands of 
them might have been seen carrying scythes and spears and 
long bows and cross-bows, some of which had done good ser- 
vice under the Black Prince, wending their way through the 



i >.k 



A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. [Feb.^ 



U'«v>«U unci along the sheep paths, and all of them as the3r 
\uul^tt(l towards the capital kept singing: 

" ' When Adam delved, and Eve span, 
Who was theii the gentleman ? * 

'' Every nobleman, the moment he got tidings of their ap- 
proach, fled in haste to his castle, and having raised the draw- 
bridge, he watched them with rage in his heart as they tramped 
by, singing as they went along: 

*' ' When Adam delved, and Eve span, 
Who was then the gentleman ? * 

But some nobles were caught unawares. Very few of these, 
however, were put to death ; only the most unpopular ones 
were beheaded. And among the first to suffer was Sir John 
Cavendish, Chief-Justice of England. He was a marked man, 
for it had been his duty to enforce the oppressive ' Statute of 
Laborers,' which compelled artisans and others to work for the 
same wages as they had received before the Black Death ; and 
the Chief-Justice's head was carried many miles on a pike. 
Here let us observe that many of the peasants believed that if 
they only could get possession of their young king — he was- 
not yet out of his teens — they could persuade him to grant 
them all they desired. And as they drew near to London their 
watchword became ' King Richard and the true Commons.' 
And when at last the different divisions of this great army, 
which numbered not ledi> than a hundred thMi«md| came to* 
gether at the end of their long march, it was the king's banner 
that they unfurled on Blackheath, a broad open space on the 
outskirts of the capital. Two banners of St. George marked 
their headquarters, and the principal leaders of the multitude 
were a priest, named John Ball, and a laboring man of more 
than common wit, named Wat Tyler. Within an hour after the 
army had assembled on Blackheath every road which led into 
the city was closely blocked, and the young king, his mother, 
and all the ministers hastened for safety to the Tower. But 
Walworth, the mayor, who alone kept his head during the panic,, 
deemed it the part of wisdom to come to an understanding: 
with the rebel chiefs, and after a brief parley with Wat Tyler, 
he consented to let down the drawbridge and allow the villeins- 
to enter the city, on condition that they would do no harm to- 



1903.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 641 

anybody or anything and that they would pay for whatever 
they took. And now across London Bridge poured a seemingly 
endless stream of human beings from the moors and forests 
and fens, and all gaping with wonder and awe, for never . in 
their wildest dreams had they dreamt of a city so grand as 
this city. 

" And now for three whole days the revolted peasants were 
blasters of the capital of the kingdom. And unhappily, poor 
human nature being what it is, and mindful too of what they had 
been made to suffer, the spirit of vengeance did at length 
awaken in their breasts, and many fine mansions were put to 
the torch, and many a gentleman, who was suspected of being 
connected with the government, was speared or beheaded, while 
around the base of the Tower angry mobs did surge and shout 
for the heads of the ministers who were hidden within its 
strong stone walls. At length it was proposed to storm the 
Tower and get possession of young King Richard by force, for 
in him the too-confiding, maddened villeins still .placed their 
hopes. It was at this critical hour that Richard, who had been 
watching from a high turret the burning houses and the heads 
carried on pikes, threw down a message in which he promised 
to meet the rebel leaders on the following day at a spot called 
Mile End, two miles from the Tower. Accordingly, on the 
following day at the appointed place the rebel leaders came, 
accompanied by sixty thousand of their follower^, and here 
they were met by King Richard and several of the. highest 
nobles, not one of whom felt sure that he was not going to his 
doom. And now four things were asked of the young king: 
'''First: A complete abolition of villeinage. Secondly: 
That laborers should pay no higher rent than four pence an 
acre. Thirdly : Liberty to buy and sell at all fairs in the 
kingdom. Fourthly : Pardon for the offences which had been 
committed.' Now, these four demands were willingly granted, 
and the villeins, wild with delight, turned back towards the 
city, impatient to tell their comrades that henceforth tbey were 
all to be free men. But, most unfortunately, just as they 
were entering London, the Tower was surrendered by its garri- 
son, and immediately the mob poured in, and Leg, the farmer 
of the- .hated poll, tax, was quickly beheaded, together with 
Archbishop Sudbury, whose head was placed high on London 
Bridge. Here be it said that this prelate suffered not because 



642 A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LlFK. [Feb., 

he was archbishop, but because, holding the post of chancellcNr, 
it was he who had introduced the poll tax. He was a kind, 
good man, and there is little doubt that had Archbishop Sud- 
bury's life been ^ared he would have warned King Richard 
and his nobles to take to heart the lesson of this great up- 
rising of the villeins, and in future to treat the poor people in 
a more Christian-like way. But, strange to tell, all did not 
meet the fate of Leg and the archbishop ; a few managed td 
escape out of the Tower, and among them was the Queen 
Mother, who met her son as he was coming back from Mile 
End. And they both found a safe retreat in a big, fortified 
building, where they passed an anxious day; for although a 
good number of the rebels had already turned their faces 
homeward, feeling sure that their young king would keep his 
word and that they were no longer to be villeins^ many still 
remained in the ciCy, burning and plundering. On the morrow 
King Richard — who certainly did not lack bravery — sallied 
forth a second time to meet his unruly subjects, accompanied 
by half a dozen faithful knights and a few men-at-arms. He 
found Wat Tyler, who, as we have said, was one of their 
leaders, at a market-place called Smithfield, not far beyond the 
city walls ; and now precisely what words passed between them 
we do not know. But it is said that Tyler, who appeared to 
be nowise abashed in the king's presence and whose manner 
was perhaps unduly familiar, was presently struck from his 
horse by Walworth, the mayor, who wore a suit of armor 
under his official robes, and the moment he fell to the ground 
he was stabbed to death. Immediately a thousand bows were 
bent and a thousand arrows were ready to let fly towards the 
king and his small party; and who can say what might have 
happened had a single arrow been discharged ? But at this 
crisis in the fate of the kingdom, young Richard struck his 
horse with the spurs and galloped towards the excited villeins, 
who were between him and the city gate, crying out, ' I am 
your leader; trust in me.' And strange to relate, so very 
childlike was their faith in him that without a murmur they let 
him conduct them several miles out into the country, where, 
after making them a brief but affectionate address, he bade 
them return to their homes, telling them again that their 
wrongs would all be righted. And the villeins believed what 
Richard told them and they went homeward. 



1903.] A p£j^ J^JCTURE OF English Life. 643 

''But not many daye after they had departed the king be- 
gan what has been called his Bloody Assize : and Tressilian, 
the new Chief* Justicie, was hid zealous tool in the work of 
vengeance. He heard Richard say to a band of unamied 
peasants, wh6 had come to greet him as their best friend, 
' Villeins ye are and villeins ye shall remain/ and to show his 
zeal Tressilian had all these poor people brought before him 
for trial, and he* spared >none: he disembowelled every one; 
and disembowelling was a very painful death.* In fact, the new 
Chief-Justice, as he journeyed from manor to manor and vil- 
lage to village, with his executioner armed with rope and razor, 
did hang and disembowel so many villeins that at length even 
the friends of order thought him too severe, f And while it 
may be plausibly argued that the villeins needed a severe les- 
son, the king undoubtedly erred on the side of severity. He 
might have tempered justice with mercy, for he had pledged 
his word to the peasants that he would be their friend. But 
although the work of blood went on for several months, let it 
be said to the credit of the poor people that King Richard's 
vengeance did not tame them; a spirit of resistance has con- 
tinued to smoulder in their breasts; those who hold them in 
vHleinage have learned to fear them, and through this fear, no 
doubt, the lowly ones in the end will wring from nobles and 
king the rights which have not been granted to them through 
love." 

Here ended Father Godmund's short account of the great 
uprising of the peasants in the fourteenth century. Then, after 
a moment's silence. Father Godmund said: ''Truly 1381 was a 
terrible year for the kingdom. But good may come out of that 
upheaval ; indeed nothing good is to be got without pain." 

" Ay, if the people of England only keep true to their reli- 
gion," said Father Granville ; " if Wycliffism does not continue 
to spread, as alas ! I fear it may ; if covetous men do not seize 
the property of the church and destroy our monasteries, it is 
not unreasonable to hope that one of these days, with more 
schooling and with increased intelligence, we may be able to 
found a Christian commonwealth." 

"Yes, yes," said Father Godmund, "a Christian common- 
wealth. It may be a long way off ; we may have to go through 

*Lingard, Henry IV., Disembowelling' of Sir TAomas Blount. 
t Trevelyan, England in the Days of Wycliffe^ p. 247. 



644 4 PEN Picture of English life. [Feb. 

many tribulations before it comes, but for that blessed day let 
us wait and hope and pray." 

Just as he finished these words the room became very much 
darker, the wind outside blew more furiously than ever, and 
what must surely have been an earthquake shook the building. 
It startled Father Godmund and Father Granville, and as they 
were looking at each other and wondering what was going to 
happen an immense stone from one of the towers of the monas- 
tery crashed through the roof and fell right between them 
without touching them. It was indeed a most miraculous escape 
from death, and dropping upon their knees they offered to God 
a prayer of thanks for their deUverance. They were still upon 
their knees when, strange to tell, the wind all at once subsided, 
then the clouds broke apart, and the sunbeams streaming in 
through the shattered roof lit up every nook and corner of the 
room. 

" Gloria in excelsis Deo ! " cried Father Godmund, clasping 
his friend's hand, who was trembling with emotion. " And so 
may it be with dear Durham Abbey: Gloria in excelsis Deo!" 
answered Father Granville. " Evil days may be coming, but in 
the end our dear Lord will give to us again sunshine and 
peace." 



BY RICHARD STEARNS. 



Chapter I. 



r had been sultry all day, and the low rumble of 

distant thunder was ominous. From a veranda 

which overlooked the Potomac, Captain John 

Carlton was watching the fast approaching shower, 

and the lowering clouds that folded themselves 

about the neighboring hills. Soon large drops began to fall, 

and the stately row of hemlocks that guarded the way from the 

mansion to the road waved wildly, and shook the wet from 

their limbs, as the gusts of wind passed down the line. 

The house was one of those good old-fashioned manors found 
scattered all through Virginia and the South. It was low and 
long, with the servants' quarters at the extreme right, while at 
the left might .be seen the family chapel, a picturesque old 
building of Gothic architecture, completely clothed with a rich 
growth of ivy. The granaries, once so well stored with golden 
corn and undoubtedly the scene of many an animated husking- 
bee, were now empty and passing into decay. It was a grand 
place for pondering over the past, for dreaming of the future. 

President Lincoln had just issued his first call for volunteers, 
and Captain Carlton, favoting the cause of the North, had been 
among the foremost to respond. He was going to leave his 
mother and little sister Lucy that very night, and a gloom was 
over everybody and everything. When evening came the storm 
had spent itself, and the captain, after bidding his mother and 
sister an affectionate farewell, departed. Little Lucy could not 
realize what it all meant, and in after years all she remembered 
of her brother's departure was his gay uniform as he went 
dashing away on horseback into the night. 



646 A MYSTERY OF GRACE. [Feb., 

Years rolled by and Lucy grew to womanhood. A fairer 
creature there never was in all the country round ; always cheer- 
fuly always bright, and possessing one of the happiest of natures. 
Having received her education at home, she had been well 
instructed in the teachings of the Episcopal belief, and it was a 
joy to her mother, and a source of consternation to her many 
friends and admirers, when she one day announced her wish to 
join the Episcopal sisterhood. Not many months after, her 
desire was fulfilled. 

Her first year in the community was a happy one. It 
seemed a foretaste of Heaven, and as the delicate flower is 
warmed and strengthened by the sun's rays, so was she warmed 
and strengthened by the fire of Divine Love. But a time came 
when there seemed to be something wanting to make her 
happiness complete. An indescribable something, she knew not 
what; but the ways of God are great, unspeakably great, and 
He knew, and it was pleasing to Him that after a year of un- 
rest she should again return to her own. 

Again she entered society and mingled with her friends, 
many of whom openly told her that they knew she would re- 
turn, while others said that they were glad she " had not lost 
all her good sense," as they expressed it. But Lucy was yet 
to give them a greater surprise, though at that time she her- 
self knew it not. 

Among her many friends the one who was most dear to her 
was Agnes Raymond, a Catholic. They had grown up together 
from childhood, and though near neighbors, their mutual friend- 
ship and sympathy led them to visit each other, for days at a 
time. They were together very often after her return home, 
and on one of her visits to Agnes, Lucy opened at random a 
volume of Cardinal Newman's works, the Apologia pro Vita .Sua^ 
and read these words : " From the time I became a Catholic, 
of course I have no further history of my religious opinions to 
narrate, for I have had no variations to record, and have had 
no anxiety of heart whatever." Can this be true ? she thought, 
and read on : "I have been in perfect peace and never had one 
doubt. I had not more fervor, but it was like coming into port 
after a rough sea; and my happiness remains to this day with- 
out interruption." 

On her way home Lucy turned these words over and over 
in her mind : " no anxiety of heart," *' perfect peace," " never 



I903-] -^ Mystery of Grace. 647 

had one doubt/' and wondered if there could be such "happi- 
ness" in this life. Had Newman found in the Catholic Church 
that something, that indescribable something, which was wanting 
in her life as a sister? Could she find it? The seed of in- 
quiry had fallen on good ground and had taken root deep 
down in her heart. 



Chapter II. 

One beautiful sunny morning in May, when Father Harkins 
was in the garden among his flowers, which he himself cared 
for and dearly loved, he heard " Miss Lu," as old Uncle 'Ras- 
mus called her, speaking to him from the road. This did not 
surprise him, however, for they were old friends ; in fact, he 
had known her from her infancy, and many a kindly word had 
passed between them. He had been gathering a bunch of early 
roses for the Blessed Virgin's altar, and placing them carefully 
on an old rustic bench, he approached the gate with his usual 
greeting, " God bless you, my child ; what has brought you 
here so *early this morning ? " 

What was his surprise, while struggling with the latch, which 
had become swollen with the rain, when he heard Lucy say: 
" Father Harkins, I want to be a Catholic, and have come to 
be instructed." 

" But, my child — " Father Harkins began. 

"There is no but about it, father; I am in earnest and 
want to learn the great truths of your faith, and — " 

"But tell me," broke in the astonished priest, "what has 
been the cause of this most sudden and unexpected change in 
your ideas ? " 

" Unexpected it is, I admit," Lucy replied, " but it is not 
sudden. For two years past I have been turning this question 
over in my mind as a result of my having read by chance a 
passage from Newman. After that I read all his works, and at 
last am convinced that I have been only an imitator, and wish 
to embrace the truth." 

Rarely did Lucy ever make such a lengthy speech, and 
Father Harkins in his confusion began to mumble something 
about Captain John Carlton, but remembering a promise made 
many years before he checked himself; the time for disclosing 
his secret had not yet come. "All right, my little catechu- 



648 A Mystery of Grace. [Feb., 

men," he added; "God's holy will be done. Let us have our 
first lesson this morning." 

From that day forth the instructions went on regularly, and 
often the old priest was surprised how readily his young pupil 
accepted the teachings of Holy Mother Church. "Surely," he 
would say to himself after Lucy had left him, — "surely it is the work 
of the Holy Spirit." In due time the sunshine- of God's grace 
dispersed all clouds, penetrated the very depths of her soul, 
and warmed her heart ; and on the feast of our Blessed Mother's 
Nativity she became a member of the true fold of Christ and 
made her first Communion. 

Although her mother had given her consent, still it was a 
shock to her, for she had become a great invalid; but seeing 
her daughter's happiness she was resigned, and even began to 
question within herself what it was that made her child so 
completely happy. It may have been her daughter's prayers 
and example, or it may have been the voice of God speaking 
directly to her soul; or again, the prayers of another gqne be- 
fore, that led her on ; for when told that she was dying, Mrs. 
Carlton asked for Father Harkins. The good man came to her 
bedside, and having heard from her own lips that she desired 
to die a Catholic, he prepared her for death. When she had 
made her confession Mrs. Carlton sent for Lucy, for she wished 
to tell her something of importance ; but all Lucy could catch 
from her mother's words were, " Your brother Jphn "— " the 
war " — " Catholic," for Mrs. Carlton died almost immediately 
after Father Harkins had left her. 

Now Lucy was alone. Many valuable documents relative to 
her mother's estate were brought to her by the family lawyer, 
a promising young man from Richmond ; and among other 
things a package of letters, many of which had been written 
during the Civil War, twenty years before. She found one 
from her brother, Captain Carlton, written to his mother just 
two weeks after his departure in the spring of 1861. What a 
revelation was in store for her ! Now she was to learn Father 
Harkins' secret, and what it was that her mother had wished 
to make known to her. It was a loving letter, and stated 
briefly that should anything befall him he wished her to know 
that only a month before leaving home he had been received 
by Father Harkins into the Roman Catholic Church. He wrote 
that it was his earnest prayer that some day she and his little 



1903.] A Mystery of Grace. 649 



"One was moH hbb bkothib." 

sister Lucy would also become members of the one true fold 
of Jcaus Christ. What a mystery of grace! God in His mercy 
had watched over them, and in His own way had led them 
step by step to the threshold of His sanctuary. Lucy now 
possessed the graces of her brother's prayers, and no doubt he 
had long been praying for her in heaven. He was killed in 
the battle of Gettysburg. 

Just as Lucy finished reading her brother's letter. Father 
Harkins was announced. She ran to the veranda to meet him, 
and before he had time to speak Lucy put the letter into his 
hands, saying: "O Father! read this, read this; are not the 

VOL. LXXVI. — 42 



^5o A Mystery of Grace. [Feb., 

ways of God wonderful ? As Father Harkins read the letter 
the tears began to roll- down his wrinkled cheeks. When he 
had finished it he exclaimed : " My call this morning is use- 
less; it was to tell you what you have read here that I came." 

"Not useless, father," Lucy replied, "for you are just in 
time to rejoice with me; but tell me, why did you not let me 
know about my brother's conversion before?" 

The old priest took the chair which Lucy had brought for 
him, and then told her that at the time of her brother's con- 
version Mrs. Carlton was bitterly opposed to Catholicism, and 
that he had promised Captain Carlton not to say anything 
about his conversion to his mother or sister unless they entered 
the church. 

"It is but a week since your good mother became a Catho- 
lic,** he added; "and this is the first opportunity I have had 
since, of speaking with you. I did not know of this letter 
before ; now you know all." 

Five years later, on just such a day as that when Captain 
Carlton went away, old Uncle 'Rasmus was heard talking half 
to himself and half to "Miss Lu's" little boy. "Why, bless 
yo* soul,'* the old man was saying, "when dat las' clap come 
an' de lightnin' flew roun' like it was off de track, I was sho 
de crack o' doom was right yer at de back do', an' ma hair 
stood up on en'." 

"I don't see how that could be. Uncle 'Rasmus,** the little 
fellow remarked, " because you have n't got any." 

Just then the dinner horn sounded, and the old man, turn- 
ing to the little boy, exclaimed: "Go 'way, honey; I reckon 
it 's 'bout time yo' was gettin' hungry " ; and Francis, wonder- 
ing what kind of a thing the " crack o* doom " was, ran to his 
father on the veranda, who long since had given up bis trust 
as family lawyer to Carlton Manor. 



1 903: ] Ebb and Flo w of the Oxford Mo vement. 65 1 




THE EBB AND FLOW OF THE OXFORD MOVEMENT. 

BY WILLOUGHBY BRAITHWAITE. 

HEN a convert, coming from England, who has 
spent many years in the Anglican ministry, first 
arrives in America, one of the first questions he 
is asked is: "Why does not the great move- 
ment that has now been going on in the Angli* 
can Church for upwards of sixty years bear greater fruits ? 
Surely those who imitate so closely in their worship and doc- 
trine the Catholic Church must begin to feel and know by this 
time that they are outside the one fold. And yet, though we 
hear of isolated and frequent conversions, we do not see that 
general conversion of large numbers which characterized the 
earlier years of the Tractarian Revival. Why is this?" 

As an Englishman who has ministered for several years in 
the Anglican Church, and who has known most of the leaders 
of the modern Ritualistic party, I know of the numerous causes 
-which combine to prevent any great secession such as the ones 
which characterized the years 1840^1851. It is well known that 
every great movement has a tendency, when its original leaders 
have passed away, to somewhat change its course, and after a 
time to lose the enthusiasm and vigor which marked its origin. 
If it cannot win all along the line, it settles down into a dull 
respectability or a sullen defiance of authority. If I were asked 
if the Oxford Movement had spent its force, I should say that 
its original aim, namely, the restoration of the Catholic authority 
of the episcopate, and the frank study of the Catholic Fathers 
with a view to the discovery of the truth, and not to clever special 
pleading, has been turned aside. However, it still continues 
to raise the ritual and worship of the Established Church in the 
direction of Catholicity, and therefore it removes prejudice from 
the minds of thousands who never dream of listening to the 
voice of the Catholic Church, thereby indirectly substituting 
Catholic truth. 

In the first place, it must be remembered that the whole 
attitude of the modern Ritualistic party towards the Catholic 
Church is entirely different from what it was forty or fifty years 
ago. The first Tractarians turned to Rome with deep reverj^nte 



652 Ebb and Flow of the Oxford Movement. [Feb., 

and regard; they were conscious that while the English Church 
had largely lost or overlooked Apostolic truths, here was the 
greatest and grandest portion of the church still adhering to the 
whole counsel of God, still witnessing boldly through good re- 
port and evil report for the truth of those doctrines which they 
were striving to impress on the mind of the English people. 
They admired and tried to imitate the lives of her saints, they 
studied with a single-hearted purpose of discovering the truth 
in the works of her doctors and of the Catholic Fathers, they 
reverenced authority, and never did they permit themselves to 
speak harshly of what they considered her faults. And the re- 
sult of such devout, careful study is known : under the providence 
of God it led them into their true home, the Catholic Church. 

But a new school was springing up, a school possessing per- 
haps far more worldly wisdom, more love of notoriety, but much 
less self-denial and learning than the early Tractarians. And 
the new Ritualistic school declared that these conversions to 
the faith must be stopped, a different line must be taken, the 
old gentleness and courtesy must be laid aside. From this 
period we can date the rise of the school of controversialists 
such as Littledale, men whose work it was to keep possible 
converts out of the Catholic Church at any cost. Ridicule the 
church, shower mud on her priests, insult her saints, garble snd 
falsify quotations, and make a mockery of many sacred thin^ s ; 
this was the method used, and how fearfully it recoiled on its 
authors, when those who had learned to deride the church, 
through the instrumentality of " Plain Reasons," carried princi- 
ples to their logical conclusion, and derided supernatural religion 
altogether. There have been, and still are, men in the Anglican 
communion who with a single-hearted devotion work for the 
good of souls, firmly believing they are working for a portion 
of God's Church ; but in too many cases bitterness and hatred 
have supplanted the quiet, prayerful, loving attitude of the men 
of 1844. 

The early reverence for the authority of the bishops has 
disappeared as well. No one who reads the writings of Dr. 
Newman, while still an Anglican, can fail to be struck by the 
deference and respect which he and his friends show to their 
fathers in God. "A Bishop's lightest words," he says, "are 
heavy." To them he is the successor of the Apostles, the 
divinely ordained pastor of the flock of Christ, the source of all 
jurisdiction in his diocese. And so, when the Bishop of Oxford 



1903.] Ebb and Flow of the Oxford Movement. 653 

expresses doubts as to the wisdom of Tract 98, Newman at 
once hastens to assure him of his obedience. But all that was 
changed by the new school. Finding that the bishops hesitated 
to approve of all the new Ritual developments and doctrinal 
teaching which were being introduced ; and that their innate 
conservatism and their knowledge of the English Prayer Book 
and its history prevented their sanctioning the alterations 
that were being made in the services, a new tone towards them 
was adopted. Any one who reads the early files of the Church 
Times or Church Review will see, over and over again, the 
Right Rev. Fathers in God bullied, hectored, told that they 
were antiquated old fossils, traitors, and enemies to Catholic 
truth. I have heard a well-known Ritualist say that the bishops 
ought to be shut up, and only let out to ordain and confirm ! 
That this attitude has to a slight extent changed lately, is due 
not to an increasing respect for the bishops, but to the fact 
that Lord Salisbury and Mr. Gladstone have largely replaced 
the old Low-Church bishops with prelates of a more High- 
Church school, who have donned cope and mitre, and occa- 
sionally take part in quite advanced functions. Woe betide 
one of these prelates, though, if he chance to offend the Ritu- 
alists in any way ; he is at once reminded that the spirit of 
abuse is still alive, and that if he does not comply with their 
requirements, the showers of newspaper venom will again be 
hurled at his devoted head. 

But there are now signs of a further change still. It will 
be fresh in our readers' memory that a few years ago, on an 
appeal being made to the Archbishop of Canterbury as to the 
legality of incense and processional lights in Divine Service, he 
held a court, heard arguments for and against their use, and 
finally decided that incense, used ceremonially, and processional 
lights were both illegal in the Established Church. The ad- 
vanced clergy, hurriedly summoned together by the English 
Church Union and the Society of the Holy Cross, had held a 
meeting at which they declared their intention to adhere, at all 
costs, to the use of the condemned ceremonial ; and remem- 
bering how they had fought the bishops about vestments, lights, 
and the eastward position, everybody expected another great 
struggle. But this time the bishops were wiser men, and with 
singular discretion adopted the maxim, ''Divide et impera." 
They let it become known that they would harry no cleric 
about such details of ceremonial as vestments, lights, or 



654 Ebb and Flow of the Oxford Movement. [Feb., 

the eastward position; nay, they would consider them loyal 
sons of the Establishment and visit their churches to preach 
and confirm. But should any Anglican minister continue to 
use incense ceremonially or to carry lights in procession, he 
would be ostracized, and the light of his diocesan's countenance 
would cease to shine on him At once a division began: 
many. thought that, having gained so much, why struggle for 
more ? Many professed a zeal for episcopal control which con- 
veniently hid a dislike for personal inconvenience, and many 
earnest men felt that an opportunity for peace had come. 
With but few exceptions the condemned points were given up 
in every diocese, some bishops sanctioning a method of using 
incense which was certainly not ceremonial because it was a 
method no one had ever heard of before. Some stalwarts, how- 
ever, all over the country, have sturdily refused to pay any defer- 
ence whatever to their bishop's orders, and reap a due reward ; 
the bishop will not confirm in their churches, nor will he allow 
them any curates; they are episcopally boycotted. 

It is interesting, in this connection, to notice that Dr. Ingram, 
the Protestant Bishop of London, has just sanctioned a prose- 
cution against an incumbent in his diocese who goes to extremes 
and makes use in his church of the Rosary, Benediction, votive 
candles, devotions to the Sacred Heart, and. other portions of 
Catholic worship, which, however beautiful and appropriate in the 
Catholic Church, can hardly be said to be provided for by the Book 
of Common Prayer. This prosecution seems to mark a further 
step in the bishops' clever move to separate the sheep from the 
goats, the very advanced men from their more moderate breth- 
ren; and to prevent the great bulk of the powerful High- 
Church party from coming to the support of the attacked ex- 
tremists, as they did in days gone by, when a less extravagant 
ritual was attacked. The cry now raised will be " Stick to the 
Prayer Book ; we grant you that the Ornaments Rubric allows 
the use of lights, vestments, wafer bread, and the eastward 
position of the celebrant; but the Rosary, Benediction, votive 
candles, you cannot defend them; they are frankly Romish, 
and as such you must aid us in suppressing them." 

It is this tendency in the English Church which I wish to 
emphasize as marking, to my mind, a complete change in the 
trend of the modern Ritualistic movement. The Anglican 
bishops are wisely doing now what they should have done years 
ago, and are seeking to lead the movement themselves and thus 



1903.] Ebb and Flow of the Oxford Movement, 655 

to consolidate the Establishment. People in America have no 
idea of the strength of the idea of Establishment in the mind 
of the leading and governing clergy of the English Church, 
and the strong tinge of Erastianism it gives to their religion. 
If I were asked what has kept together in our National Church 
men of four or five different religions, what has prevented the 
split which, over and over again, has seemed on the point of 
taking place, I should reply, "The Establishment." It is like 
an iron band round a weak body welding all into one. Ever 
since the days of " Good Queen Bess " the Anglican bishops, 
with few exceptions, have been Erastian to the core, always 
ready to support the state, always demanding the support of 
the state in return. Their cry has ever been, " The Church 
in danger " ; the Establishment must be saved at all costs. 
This feeling, amongst others, has tended very largely to retain 
even the extreme men within her ranks. " Who, if we go, will 
get those glorious cathedrals, those numerous beautiful churches 
which stud the land ? They will be desecrated, or devoted to 
heretical ' worship. The endowments of our pious Catholic 
ancestors will be alienated to secular purposes." Such are the 
inducements which, inter alia^ make men feel it is their duty to 
remain where they are, and to convert the English nation to a 
stately and Catholic National Church, in which they shall be 
free to teach the whole faith, 

"Spartam nactus es, banc oma." 

The Englishman, too, loves compromise; you have only to 
read history to see that. Here is a great national church, 
reformed by Englishmen, he will tell you, yet retaining in her 
beautiful Prayer Book the essentials of the Catholic Faith. Her 
bishops have the old titles, they trace their unbroken line from 
St. Augustine, they minister in their old cathedrals, and the 
English liturgy is dear to thousands of Englishmen who, Sunday 
after Sunday, worship within the walls of their venerable fanes. 
It is a system which suits English people, it has a certain 
amount of respectable antiquity, and yet it conforms to the new 
ideas in many ways. Tell your Englishman to study history, 
to read who were the fathers of the Anglican Establishment, 
to investigate the changes of Elizabeth's reign ; point out to 
him that no one else in the world allows his claims; that the 
Catholic Church rejects his orders, and questions his jurisdiction ; 



656 Ebb and Flow of the Oxford Movement. [Feb,, 

that his fellow- Protestants ridicule his belief of an Apostolic 
succession or a visible church on earth, — still, like the ostrich, he 
buries his head in the sand and refuses to look up. 

We Catholics, then, must not be surprised if, for the reasons 
I have advanced, conversions from the Establishment in Eng- 
land should continue for the present to be few in number. 
God has done great things for us in Jthe past, whereat we 
rejoice. He has worked, and is still working, in the great 
movement which, beginning with a few men in Oxford, has 
revolutionized the whole face of the Anglican Church. But I 
cannot help feeling that the movement has reached its high- 
water mark, and that it will now tend to settle down and con- 
solidate into a respectable uniformity. What will become of 
the very advanced men of the Establishment remains to be 
seen. Either they must conform to the new ritual standard the 
bishops have set up, or deserted as they will now be by the 
old-fashioned High-Church party, they must leave the church, 
to set up a new small schism, or, which God grant, to become 
Catholics. It may be, however, that the bold profession of open 
unbelief in the fundamental doctrines of Christianity which not 
a few of its highly placed clergy are now making, will lead 
many a devout soul to see that his home cannot be in such a 
city of confusion, and that God is not the author of discord, 
but of unity. 

But if this seems to be true of the immediate future, another 
aspect of the horizon is full of hope. There is no longer the 
tendency to Agnosticism and infidelity, covert or open, that ex- 
isted some twenty years ago. It has been said by an eminent 
authority that Darwinism is on its death-bed. I am assured 
that this great phenomenon is as manifest in America as in 
England, and that on all sides people are throwing away the 
unsatisfactory theory of a Divinity who, having poised this 
world in space and set it revolving, troubles not himself with 
mundane affairs. The day of Colonel Ingersoll is at an end 
here, as the day of Agnosticism is finished in England. Twenty- 
five years ago Infidelity and Agnosticism were far stronger in 
England than they are now ; their influence has been steadily 
declining. The signs of the times are full of hope, and the 
twentieth century dawns on a people which knows and feels 
its need for a personal Saviour, a God who loves each one and 
is the Father of all mankind. Even the very popularity of the 



1903.] Ebb and Flow of the Oxford Mo vement. 65 7 

religious play in our theatres, trivial though it may seem to 
some, is a straw which shows the way the wind blows. Works 
which deal with the life and personality of our Lord have a 
ready sale, and not only the larger and costlier ones are in 
demand, but cheap editions for the masses are disposed of as 
fast as they are produced. The increased zeal for foreign mis- 
sions and the eager desire to hear more about their working 
and methods, the gathering of large missionary conventions, are 
all signs of a renewed and deeper faith. 

But if this new century is to see the rise and growth of a 
greater and more living Faith, it is perfectly certain that such 
a movement cannot stop there. It must go on, growing in 
volume and force as it proceeds; and herein lies the hope for 
the future. The earnest inquirer who has learned the beauty 
and personality of God will not long be content with the mani- 
fold contradictions and inconsistencies of popular Protestantism. 
He will be led on to inquire further, and he will find himself 
^ confronted by the spectacle of a great, unvarying Catholic 
Church, always the same throughout all ages, ever claiming to 
be the teacher and repository of Divine Truth, and always sur- 
viving shocks which would long ago have destroyed any merely 
human institution. Ephemeral forms of religion pass and have 
their day; she alone stands and hands down the truth un- 
changed — "guod semper, qtwd ubique, et quod ab omnibus,^' 

So we may boldly look forward to the future, and feel that 
in the reviving faith of humanity lies the germ of a vast ac- 
cession to the ranks of the church in the future. Even if for 
the immediate present we must cease to expect the great flow 
of converts which marked the early years of the Oxford move- 
ment, we can confidently look forward to the time when a 
new generation, full of faith in a personal Christ, shall be led 
on calmly and dispassionately to examine the claims of the 
Catholic Church as their forefathers did some fifty years ago. 
Such an attitude of mind can only have the same result as it 
had then, namely, the submission of devout souls to the One, 
Catholic, and Apostolic Church. This, I firmly believe, will 
be the outcome of the great religious movement on which we 
are now entering, the movement through which God, who has 
already wrought so great things for us, intends to bring an 
ever increasing number of our separated brethren to the one 
true fold. 



Bridgb leading to Rothbnbubg. 

THE GERMAN JERUSALEM. 

BY E. C. VANSITTART. 

' VERY hot, airless afternoon found two weary 
travellers trying to keep coot under the flickering 
shade of the vine-covered summer-house behind 
Steinach railway station, on the line from Ansbach 

I to Nuremberg, for, fired with tales of the won- 
deri of Rothenburg-an-der-Tauber, we had determined to judge 
for ourselves whether the German Jerusalem merited the lavish 
praiie heaped upon it. At last the sleepy little train, which 
connect! the main line with Rothenburg, got up its steam, and 
we proceeded to creep slowly uphill through an undulating and 
richly wooded country, where, under the burning July sun, 
({olilcn wheat-fields were ripening between patches of beech, oak, 
Hiiil firwoods, with here and there a village nestling in the hol- 
low. At the end of an hour and a half we were landed at the 
Miiitlon of Rothenburg; no sign of the town could we see, but 
iiflftr ten minutes' drive in a stuffy little omnibus, passing under 
nil (j|(l Nlone gateway, the Roderthor, we suddenly found our- 
•nlvcN within a walled city with massive bastions, moat, and forts 
hII iiiiiict. 

An ftr back as (M3 Rothenburg is spoken of as a town, and 
liiiiii iJM 1" '^o.t i^ w^^ ^ 'i*^^ city '^^ t^^ Empire, but after 
(lull 'lair bri'jknic the property of Bavaria. During the Thirty 



1903^] The GERAfAN JERUSALEM, 659 

Years' War it was constantly besieged and taken, and its streets 
ran^ith blood. In 1543 the inhabitants embraced the Reformed 
faith, and of its many churches at the present day only two belong 
to Rome. The name of Rothenburg is derived from Rotinburc^ 
meaning " the Red City," or " Fortress within Forest clearings,'* 
and is singularly appropriate to its red*tiled houses and sand- 
stone buildings. Situated two thousand feet above sea-level, it 
stands two hundred feet above the bed of the River Tauber, as 
it winds in the green valley below; the town wall to the west 
runs along its edge, and far away beyond the river low hills 
rise against the horizon. 

The whole place is in keeping ; everything is harmonious, 
everything in this wonderful little town seems to make a pic- 
ture of some middle-age date transposed to the opening days of 
the twentieth century ; weeks might be spent discovering hidden 
beauties and fresh surprises in the quaint old houses (1400 or 
15CX)), with their gable ends, dormer windows, sloping red roofs, 
richly wrought iron balconies, and gratings as delicate as filigree 
work, affording glimpses into dusky interiors with beautiful old 
doorways leading to oaken staircases, groined ceilings, or grassy 
courtyards shaded by magnificent lime-trees which, at the time 
of our visit, filled the air with the sweet scent of their blossom^. 
In the open spaces stand fountains surmounted by mailed war- 
riors, griffins, or mermaids; little gardens gay with flowers oc- 
cupy every available corner in the most unlikely places, while 
brilliant geraniums and carnations enliven many a window. It 
requires no stretch of imagination to people these roughly paved 
streets and old houses with the burghers of six hundred years 
ago, and to fancy knights and high-born ladies moving about 
to the clang of steel and stamping of horses. The towns-people 
of the present day take a touching and honest pride in their 
beautiful town, and such inscriptions as the following may be 
read on many of the more modern houses: 

" Der Stadt zur Wiirde ; Dem Platz zur Zierde, 
Und mir zur Freude, — Steht dies Gebaude." 

New buildings are all erected in keeping with the old style, 
and repairs, when needful, are executed in such a manner as to 
carry on the past ; there is not a jarring nineteenth century 
note to mar the harmony of this mediaeval German town, and 
as we wandered through its streets, we almost wondered whether 



66o THE German Jerusalem, [Feb., 

the reverse of Rip Van Winkle's experience had been ours, and 
we had awoke six centuries earlier than our last conscious mo- 
ment, so perfect was the illusion. It is not that there are a 
few picturesque buildings and beautiful churches, as at Nurem- 
berg, but here each one is perfect and unique of its kind. The 
streets have fresh, breezy names, such as: Rosmarin Gasse, 
Erbsen-gasschen, Forstergasse, etc., suggesting visions of country 
sights and sounds within city walls; signboards of old-world 
design hang out from the inns : Zum Rothin Hahn, Zum Baron, 
Zum Goldenen Lamm, caught our eye, and on the last is re- 
corded that shepherds used to meet here to dance and feast on 
their annual festival! 

One curious fact strikes the wanderer: all the churches are 
built in the Gothic style, while the secular buildings follow that 
of the Renaissance. Encircled by fortified walls, Rothenburg 
boasts of six gateways and thirty-three towers, each perfect and 
differing from all the others; round or square, lantern- crowned 
or turreted, these many towers break the sky-line, and form one 
of the most characteristic features of the place. 

Coming from the station, the town is entered by the Roder- 
thor, with its double moat and walls, from which jut out strange 
little lodges and turrets ; crossing a wooden bridge, and passing 
under another gateway (the " innerer Roderthor "), we find 
ourselves in a wide street, where the houses all have richly or- 
namented gabliss and roofs sloping at many diverse angles ; this 
leads us to the Marktplatz, a fine open square in which stands 
the magnificent Rathhaus, the older Gothic portion dating from 
1 240, with a splendid square tower one hundred and eighty feet 
high, surmounted by four colossal stone figures, and a charming 
bell cupola. This tower is said to have been set on fire by 
storks in 1501 out of revenge for the act of one of the watchers, 
who threw down their nest with the young birds ; the chronicle 
relates how '' the parent storks returned with a lighted straw, 
and the tower was burnt throughout internally, though the 
massive walls resisted." One of the watchers and his wife 
perished in the flames ; the other saved himself by crawling out 
onto one of the stone figures, and then jumping down onto 
heaped- up bedding in the street below. Each Sunday, Tues- 
day, and Friday a chorale is played on the top platform of this 
tower, a verse to each quarter of the compass, and watchers 
keep guard both day and night. Inside the Rathhaus is a 



1903.] THE German Jerusalem. 



magnificent hall, one hundred feet long, lit by windows on one 
side; it has an oak ceiling, and battle-pieces decorate the walls. 
In a press of Renaissance design, standing against the north end 
of the hall, rest the six original keys of the outer city gates, 
till on such occasion as the visit of any sovereign to Rothen- 
burg, they are laid on a cushion, with an ancient crown, and 
carried in solemn state before the kingly visitor. At the 
opposite south end is preserved a presentment of the Last 
Judgment, carved in stone, in Gothic style and colored ; it 
dates from 1200, and was originally in the Franciskanerkirche, 
whence it was removed to its present position as being an ap- 
propriate decoration to the Hall of Justice, and before which 
jurors had to swear that they would administer justice faithfully 
and without prejudice. 

Later in the sixteenth century an addition was made to the 
Rathhaus in the Renaissance style, with a fine, porticoed door- 



662 THE German Jerusalem. [Feb., 

way, now moss-grown and decaying, an oriel window, and a 
spiral staircase of good design ; but this was thrown out to the 
back, and divided by a courtyard from the older work. To 
connect the two a bridge was thrown across part of the court, 
and the whole offers a curious case of the silent protest of 
the older construction against the presence of its younger 
rival. 

Other lovely old houses bound the square. The Herren 
Trinkstube, dating from 1406, is now the post-office; here, in 
olden days, many a knotty point, left undecided in the council 
chamber at the forenoon meeting, was amicably settled over a 
foaming tankard in the evening. Another is the original Rath- 
haus, which, after serving successively as a dancing-hall and a 
slaughter-house, has now been converted into a museum, where 
are displayed a miscellaneous collection of old Bibles, pottery, 
ancient furniture, prints, pewterware, for which Rothenburg is 
renowned, mediaeval costumes, etc. In front of this antiquated 
building stands a lovely Gothic fountain, the Herterich Brun- 
nen, over which St. George and the Dragon mount guard. 
Wandering on we come to the Weisser Turm, adjoining which 
is the "Juden Tanzhaus," now a private residence richly 
adorned with gables and oriels; here another fountain breaks 
the stillness of the midsummer day, and for the moment seems 
to cool our temperatures, as we pause to examine the female 
figore with a mirror in hand who presides over the sparkling 
spring. A sharp turn down another [street lands us in the 
square of the Jacobskirche, one of the finest Gothic churches of 
Bavaria. Raised on the site of an earlier sanctuary, the exist- 
ing building was of slow growth, its foundation stone being laid 
on St. James' Day, 1373, though not completed till 147 1. The 
delay is attributable to the fact that the whole cost of its erec- 
tion was defrayed by subscriptions of one heller (1-16 of a 
penny), from the peasants and burghers, which habit would 
seem to have become second nature to the inhabitants, who at 
the present day all drop the equivalent of that sum into the 
building and repair-fund collecting box as they enter the church. 
Two square sandstone towers rise at the west end, differing 
from each other in style and height, though both surmounted 
by pierced steeples, and adorned with flying buttresses. The 
lack of symmetry is thus explained by tradition: the architect, 
whose name history ignores, built the one on the south side. 



1903'] ^-^^ GERMAN Jerusalem. 665 

his pupil that on the north ; but when completed, the latter 
was so much the finer and more graceful, that the unhappy 
master, in a fit of jealous frenzy, threw himself from the top, a 
ghastly record of which is the effigy of a man sliding from the 
roof, still to be seen from the south-east side of the building. 



Access to the church is by a strangely small and insigni- 
ficant door, but is accounted for by the fact that in olden days 
when churches were surrounded by cemeteries, and protected 
by high walls, there were only one or two narrow entrances 
provided, however imposing the structure might otherwise be. 
The interior is simple, but very striking ; there is no transept, 
and the lofty nave rs separated from the side aisles by twelve 
massive columns; these columns — from which springs the groined 
roof — are decorated with statues of saints and apostles. The 
stained glass windows, dating from the fourteenth century, 
represent the fall of manna in the wilderness. The reredos of 
the high altar is a wondrous specimen of wood-carving by 
Wohlgemuth, the master of Albert Durer, representing the 
twelve Apostles, St. Peter being distinguished by what would 
seem to be a pince nez ! On one of the wings of the predella 



664 THE German Jerusalem. [Feb., 

is a very ancient representation of Rothenburg on a gold 
ground. Against the wall on the gospel side is the '' Sacra- 
ment House/' or Tabernacle; it is carved in stone in high 
relief and painted; originally in the older church, it was pre- 
served and set up in its present position. Very curious is its 
representation of the Trinity: God the Father pointing to His 
Crucified Son, to whom He is united by the Holy Ghost in 
semblance of a dove "proceeding from the mouth or beard of 
the Father and resting on the head of the Son." The altar 
dedicated to the Virgin in the north aisle was formerly in the 
Spitalkirche ; it portrays scenes from her life, and is held to 
be the work of the celebrated Wtirzburger sculptor Riemen- 
schneider, the undoubted author of the Heiliges Blut altar, the 
bill for its costs having been discovered a few years ago. This 
ahar is of the most exquisite delicacy and workmanship, and 
represents the entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, and a 
scene on the Mount of Olives; it will bear the most minute 
examination, every trifling detail being perfect. A drop of the 
Most Precious Blood is preserved in the crystal ball which 
surmounts it, and in former days, when the church still be- 
longed to the Catholics, this relic attracted crowds of pilgrims 
from all parts of Germany. 

Under the organ loft is the bust of the Baroness von 
Seldeneck, the ruins of whose castle may still be seen on a hill 
an hour's drive from Rothenburg. She endowed the west choir, 
and seems to have been a dame of imperious character, as 
chronicles relate that she used to ride to church with her sis- 
ter; "when they were seen from the church tower to leave 
Seldeneck, the bell began to ring, and continued until they 
entered the church." 

A number of old pictures and figures which used to stand 
at the entrance of the church are now preserved in the Chapel 
of the Precious Blood, with a " wonderful pulpit hour-glass 
that until recently was used in the church; its four glasses 
were timed for a quarter of an hour, half an hour, three-quar- 
ters of an hour, and an hour." A legend relates that once up- 
on a time when a peasant, on a holyday, was driving his team 
with terrible oaths under the arch adjoining this chapel, the 
devil suddenly shot out of the gate, seized the man, and threw 
him up against the arch ; the corpse fell to the ground, but the 
poor soul remained hanging against the wall, where it may still 



I903-] THE GERMAN JERUSALEM. 665 

be «een at the present day, in the shape of a large, dark, yel- 
low stain. 

Near the church, with a picturesque flight of stone steps, is 
a lovely old house att covered by flowers and creepers, inhabited 
by the sexton, and adjoining are the remains of the Chapel of 
St Michael, which was the most beautiful Gothic structure in 
Bavaria, built in 1440; it was pulled down in 1814. Within 
Its walls the university students had to preach their first ser- 
mon on approval. Turning south, down a lane, we reach the 



EVBBV BV-WAY TBBHS WITH HiSTOBICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

Herren Gasse, a magnificent broad street shaded on either side 
by a row of lime-trees, and with yet another picturesque foun- 
tain half way down its length. Formerly all the houses here 
were inhabited by patricians and nobles, and mural tablets on 
several record the fact that their walls once sheltered distin- 
guished or royal f^uests, such as the Archbishop of Mainz in 
1474, the Emperor Frederick III. in 1475, King Ferdinand in 
1540, etc. Where all are lovely it is hard to particularize, 
but perhaps the most beautiful of these houses are the so-called 
Brodhaus, and that belonging to the family of Von Staudt 

VOU LXXVI. — 43 



666 THE German Jerusalem. [Feb., 

The latter, dating from 1400, has the most enchanting old-world 
court and tangled garden, with a well in the centre, grass- grown 
seats, lichen- covered statues half hidden by clambering ivy, and 
a vine- covered pergola throwing flickering shade onto the 
sward below; it is like a scene in a fairy tale. . Here, indeed, 
might " Dornroschen '^ of the old German saga lie asleep in the 
green, sunlit solitude, waiting for the prince to come and wake 
her. Nearly opposite this house is the Franciskanerkirche, in 
which are buried all the great men of Rothenburg. The church 
is early Gothic, and was built in the thirteenth century. The 
interior consists of ^' three aisles and a flat roof, which is 
divided from the lower aisles by ten heavy stone pillars with- 
out capitals." The floor is entirely composed of tombstones 
bearing the coats-of-arms of the noblest families, and the whole 
church is full of curious monuments, grave- stones, and figures 
propped up against the pillars ; one of these is that of Dietrich 
von Berlichingen, grandfather of the famous Gotz. Very quaint 
are the figures of Hans von Beubndorf and his wife, and the 
^'monument of a Swedish officer, who fell in the storming of 
Rothenburg by Tilly, and whose doublet, found in the grave, is 
in the Chapel of the Precious Blood." The altar, painted by 
Wohlgemuth, represents scenes from the life of St, Francis. 

At the end of the Herren Gasse stands the Burgthor which 
leads into the lovely Burg garden, whence, under the dense 
shade of fine old trees, there is a glorious view down over the 
Tauber, with the village of Dettwang in the distance, the hill 
of Engelsburg opposite, and the picturesque little house known 
as the Topplerschlosschen below. The name of Toppler, the 
great burgermaster, who lived in the fourteenth century, and 
did more for Rothenburg than any of her sons, meets one at 
every turn. His house, now the " Goldener Greif," is in the 
Schmied Gasse, and is one of the most beautiful in the town, 
while the Topplerschlosschen down in the valley was his coun- 
try-house, where he received his friend the Emperor Wenzel. 
Toppler fell a victim to the envy of his fellow-statesmen, who, 
falsely accusing him of treason, threw him into one of the sub- 
terranean dungeons of the Rathhaus, where he died a despised 
captive, after having spent his whole life in devotion to the 
welfare of his native town. 

Returning through the Burgthor, and passing down the 
Klingen Gasse, we come to another grand gateway, the Klin- 



I903O ^-^^ GERMAN JERUSALEM. 667 



THB T0WN[ still PRISBBVES ITS QUAINT MbDI^VAL Am, 

genthor, just outside which stands the littfe church of St 
Wolfgang, commonly known as the Shepherds' Church, because 
once a year a special service is held here for the shepherds 
and the blessing of their flocks. Inside is a fine groined roof 
and an exquisite bit of iron screen of the most delicate work- 
manship. Close by are three of the city's towers: the Todten- 
graberthurm, the Klosterthurm, and the Straftburm, in which 
burghers used to be imprisoned for minor ofTences. 

This completes the tour of the northern portion of the 
town. If we retrace our steps, and make for the opposite 
southern end, we come to the Spitalhof, quite a domain in 
itself. The Church of the Holy Ghost stands at the entrance 
of the immense grassy court, which is enclosed by its own 
walls and contains several separate buildings; the large hospi- 
tal, with brilliant flowers adorning each window-box; the alms- 



668 THE German Jerusalem. [Feb., 

houses ; an old granary known as the Ochsenbau, with high- 
pitched roof and tier upon tier of dormer windows with ceil de 
bceuf panes ; the bjsautiful little structure called the Hegen- 
bereiter's Haus (the mounted watchmen whose duty in medi- 
aeval days was to watch the b6undaries of the hospital), with 
a pointed octagon roof, round belfry, and clock- tower, and a 
long black and white building formerly used as a brewery. 
Magnificent lime-trees stand in the court, one of which, over 
five hundred years old, is a giant among trees, and the seats 
under their shade must indeed be grateful resting places for 
the hospital patients when convalescent. Originally founded in 
1280 for pilgrims on their way to or from Rome or the Holy 
Land, the Spitalhof formed a little self-contained village; even 
now its vicar has nothing to do .with the other clergy of the 
place, and is considered extra muros. Hours might be spent 
exploring this domain, which is one of the most fascinating 
spots in Rothenburg, where everything is beautiful. 

Just outside the court, but within the Spital boundary, is 
the Ross Muhle, or horse-mill, a very massive building with 
powerful buttresses; it was built in those troublous times when 
it was advisable to have a mill inside the town walls, lest in 
case of siege the twenty mills on the Tauber had fallen into 
the enemy's hands. 

Passing through the Spitalthor, guarded by one of the 
magnificent bastions from whose mouth cannon still look out 
over the tops of ancient walnut and lime-trees, we step out 
into an open, breezy space whence we look down on the river 
winding its way southwards between rows of poplars. To the 
left rises the Essigkrug, or vinegar flask, an isolated tower con- 
nected by an arch with the extreme angle of the city walls, 
one of the remnants of a stronghold of Duke Pharamond, who 
built it in the ninth century, saying : '' I shall give the Suabes 
such a dose of vinegar as will set their teeth on edge when 
they come to it." The fortress, however, was entirely destroyed 
by an earthquake in 1556, but near by is the fine Hundsturm 
(dog-tower) with its four little turrets. 

But to grasp the entirely unique position of the town it is 
necessary to descend into the valley and view it from beneath; 
therefore, passing under the quaint Cobolzellerthor, the steep 
road lands us in ten minutes at the river level close to the 
fourteenth century bridge, with its double tier of arches; then 



1903.] 



The Indian. 



669 



comes the Liebfrauenkirche, opposite which is a peculiarly 
shaped field known as the Herzacker, and a few steps further 
rises the Siech Haus (Leper's house), of the same date as the 
bridge, but now serving as an orphanage. Seen thus from 
below, outlined against the sky, Rothenburg presents all the 
appearance of a strongly fortified mediseval town, its walls 
pierced by loopholes, diversified by towers, bastions, and gate- 
ways, all perfect and intact, recalling one of those little walled 
towns which form the background of many a painting of the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. 




She Indian. 



BY LOUISE F. MURPHY. 




ONE are the solitudes; his race no more 
Shall triumph o'er that wild and vast domain 
Of forest, river, lake, and boundless plain, 
The heritage of centuries before. 
His tribes have vanished from each distant shore. 
Where the blue lakes they loved in beauty chain; 
A few sad children of his race remain 
Like shadows ling'ring when the day is o'er. 
An outcast in his own, his father's home; 
A beggar in his kingdom forced to roam! 
Ay, as the forest wild-flow'rs fade away 
When trees are felled, and flames the light of day. 
So dies a race when civ'lization's light 
Burns with its glory, but with blinding blight. 



^OYGB ^OSSBIiYN, SlNNBI^. 

BY UARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part III. 
AT THE TURX OF MATURITY. 



CHAPTER V. 

PRIPE C.OES BEFORE JOYCE'S FALL. 

■KS- RAYMOND'S dream-draught acted well, and 
reacted Uly, During her journey from Maintown 
ber heairt palpitated, pained acutely, then pulsated 
siowly and heavily, after a fashion it had affected 
more «nd more frequently, of late. The Paris 
j;f»ev-;jui*s had banished narcotics in favor of gentle sedatives, 
;,=:LS«*i *tituu'.aaes to an oc<-a»onal glass of dry champ^ne, or a 
s-j^ *s ii«t«Ai ot' line Cognac, and urged Madame to live, at least 
ior » 5--'Jt»<'. "tlw litf simple, the Ufe reposeful!" Dr. Castleton, 
»^;^it!;<-i><^ tx> C^rruthdale on the morning foUowing the arrival 
^v tt* •-«» -tr***. w^rrv^oratevi his Continental confrere. 



s\xvn>sis or PREVIOUS chapters. 

't^iT J^^''^''' "^ *^-'-**»* "H ihe DUTOwini resmdnti ot New Engbnd 
-, , ,. ,.,*^ 'f ^' ■■■^■^**»- His f&thei Hinm cmnlas thu caQege ni 
sTwiX v .■■■■*?***■■* «''"Sili<»W"»5»e his jnnlh in ooOeKe. •D'l «1 
._, , " .J""", V *»* tilt best cure for the jasngstcT'i nubbom (ui- 
., ",. .'^ . \ * -"a» *>» •carniDg in FUber UiniB Camth. 

th« ime Hinm aad the recakatmit Tojce, 

and kJ i iu g bCMsc Chapta 

meeo u be is tnirung bis 



. . ' , » ^1 , ,, 1 ,^,, ... ,^, ."^^ ^"' * "•♦«t:<«n. wh«n he 



■^ CeumOle. ami thae b 

' /^"'■^'ri. CommeiKcnient D«T " tonege. Falber 
' * '■•»o fr*Jii»a>B. Dr. C>ale(oa. the pnsiiiait, 
-"■~S cctjTvwn MuhIt jobasoD. breoBimoo eoo- 
'■~" -""f '■'.'(-v.. He »cvrpa ihe ofier tendered lo bim U> 
■' ' '•'■•» vji;m.-:;t. oo ie mocm o( bii gndaatioa, he 
**^"«T^.>; \V>*L .Ai ie nKHHoii ol his deputniT be 
" ■"-"'> ■■-■» !*!,« r:i,-*. :n n^.ich rfie infliience ol a wo- 
-.' -v-^.-v-. ^■ -^r West Joree bus « tooK talk with R»- 
' ^'^^ **"'-' -is ^-'Av.tr^. ±rJ iiAirs the Wnnsoo whi<ii he 



. a and Ra]VM»d. 

.'> »<« i^.m. uil naiTOwIy eieues 
recwies ;o &ui Fiucisco. pCDCfing 
LS,--.-.-^eJ eoETTo; ot the finite, hu 
.- ies a? all fcir Eorope; Jo]Pce. tai>- 
jv. ^trben proposes to liUdr*. 
t=^v G'.rl. eoms into his life, and 
■hX-c ?jl* >^"4; Kircetliuif of its spin- 
f o: s:A-k CMttlinj Stephen e». 
,-; ;e. Kc rreeis utad^s after the 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 671 

"Effects, my dear Mrs. Raymond, inevitably follow causes/' 
he reminded her ; " and Nature's penalties are impossible to 
evade. Our strenuous life is so hard upon no one as upon the 
woman pressed to the social pace. There is no nerve- rest for 
her, no recuperating solitude and repose, no mental passivity. 
And the worst and most fateful phase of present conditions is 
Nature's spurt under the spur of artificial stimulation, in re- 
sponse to irrational demands. Human > life at sustained ^hfgh- 
pressure is a false and fatal life. What wonder that even 
young hearts fail, and vitality ebbs at its source ? Mrs. Ray- 
mond, call a halt. The forced pace kills, eventually 1 " 

Imogen, languid in an Oriental lounging-robe of lustreless 
white, pouted wilfully as she trifled with a starred-and-crescented 
case filled with Turkish cigarettes; at which Mam'selle, who 
was chaperoning the quasi-invalid, shook her head reproach- 
fully. 

"Lady Nicotine must go, I suppose," yielded Imogen, dis- 
carding the case. " But after all, doctor, your theoriels seem 
exclusively for feminine practice. Moderate stimulant and narco- 
tic are man's elixir of life. Why deny it to the frailer sex ? " 

" Precisely because of its frailty, Mrs. Raymond. The strain 
and stress that ruder man stands with impunity strike at a wo- 
man's nerve-centres. In this age of feminine unrest, the vital 
forces already are sapped by ambition's consuming fever. 
Multiply external incentives to abnormal progression, and the 
increase of fashionable sanitariums is the pathetic, — the tragic 
result I The wreck of a woman is the fall of a star. Only God 
knows the souls that miss their home- way, because one woman- 
light sets prematurely." 

" By * abnormal progression * you mean — ? " 

" Deviation from natural feminine spheres ; — the mistaken 
holocaust of the soul-life and heart-life which are the saving 
and immortal leaven of the human world, and committed to 
woman in trust for mankind, — upon the altar of activity in- 
dustrial, social, or coldly intellectual. ' In other words, the 
sacrifice of the greater for the less ! " 

"What a prejudiced conservative! You believe only in the 
vocation of wives and. mothers, — not in the independent woman- 
life, — not in the feminine career, whether social or professional, — 
not in sexless genius, even, and the ' divine right ' of the artist 
born by chance a woman ! Now, doctor, doctor ! " 



672 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Feb., 

''I believe in the highest and broadest feminine evolution, 
Mrs. Raymond, — up to the line where the health and supreme 
prerogatives of womanhood are sacrificed, to the world's loss as 
well as to Eve's own I The industrial competition is modern 
woman's misfortune rather than her fault; yet voluntarily and 
most mistakenly she is discarding the tender womanliness whose 
preservation would idealize the realities of life. As for sexless 
genius, there is no such thing. The artist feminine steeps pen 
or brush in the heart- blood of her sex, or never creates the 
masterpiece that takes humanity by storm. But it is the social 
question only that applies to you, and both as physician and 
friend I would warn you against the fevered career whose 
means and end alike devitalize you. The social life of the 
gentlewoman has become the antithesis of the real life of the 
woman. Mrs. Raymond, disown the first, and try the second, 
if only by way of experiment. Believe me that it is the spe- 
cific to which the woman-heart responds con amore. The ab- 
normal' life is a mere fancy, — a mistake. When the natural is 
reinstated, woman is herself again I " 

Imogen, listening with an air of disdainful sufferance, calmly 
repossessed herself of the Turkish case, and daintily lighted a 
cigarette. She did not taste it. The audacity was simply her 
little defiance, — her riot-act, — her flaunt of feminine inde- 
pendence. 

"After all," she evaded, with eyes on the fragrant flame, 
" my heart was but my excuse for a chat with you, doctor. A 
convert paying the penalty of his conversion suggests a spec- 
tacle of interest. One wonders if the spiritual game can prove 
worthy of the material candle, in this very material world !" 

The convert laughed joyously. 

" It does in my case, at least, Mrs. Raymond," he assured 
her. "Take the word of the struggling Catholic doctor before 
you, that he is a thousand times more enviable a man than 
Centreville's convictionless president ! " 

"Ah? And the struggling doctor's wife, Mrs. Castleton?" 

"Religious conviction alone excepted, Ruth and I are one." 

" Arcadians astray in this modern world ! And your 
children ? " 

" My girls and boys, after the manner of unpoised and 
tempted youth, hunger now and then for the flesh-pots behind 
them; but my battle on home-ground is their spiritual provi- 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 673 

dence. Already the paternal cause enlists their sympathy, and 
souls follow where hearts lead the way." 

'' Then you acknowledge a battle ? " « 

"I thank God that I have not been spared the martial test 
which is the glory of the great Church Militant." 

The handsome doctor looked every inch a gallant soldier of 
the Cross, which he bore on erect shoulders. The intellectual 
fire of his eyes, at once deepened and softened by spirituality, 
now had its tender as well as its immortal message for human- 
ity of all classes. His splendid head, whose mass of iron- gray 
hair had seemed to blanch visibly on the night when his con- 
version had been confessed to his wife, carried itself with 
gracious dignity rather than with its former proud imperious- 
ness; and facial freshness, transiently blighted by mental strug- 
gle, was restored by long peace of spirit. Doctor Castleton's 
temporal way had resigned its roses, but his real self, his soul, 
had come into their own; and externals were but petty values. 

Mrs. Raymond and Centreville's president never had been 
congenial; yet the doctor's face glowed at the reopening of 
Carruthdale. The familiar interior recalled dear memories, now 
the sweeter for their chastening sadness. Raymond's presence 
seemed sensible, if not visible to his friend; the spiritual call 
of his alumnist Stephen *was joyful news to him ; and reunion 
with Mam'selle and his favorite Gladys was a social delight. 
But pain predominated as his handsome boy, Joyce, was dis- 
cussed. For the result of godless education under his rule, he, 
the man who had. resisted God, felt all- responsible. Joyce's 
valedictory, and after-words in his library, had recurred to him 
persistently. Now he knew that he had reason for regret. 

** How could I be answerable for souls, — -for confiding, living 
souls, with the convictions which I had upon me ? " 

The quotation once haunting him with its immortal chal- 
lenge, was recalled by the jaunty sketch Imogen drew of 
Joyce, — soulless and worldly, it was easy to infer, — yet brilliant 
and successful, — a coming man in the West ! The doctor's re- 
morse for his dalliance smote him newly. For even this one 
living soul confided to him, how could he answer, — how ? '* 

" Stay with us,"- he suggested to Imogen, earnestly. ** Our 
bracing air and simple life will turn you out 'a new woman,' 
in a sense surpassing Eve's most up-to-date desire; and Ste- 
phen and Joyce will rally round you to the ber -^^ 



674 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

cerned. The students are in need of object-lessons.- Centre- 
ville loses caste in losing Carruthdale. The college is not — 
what it was ! ^ 

" Blame its president's defection for that/' taunted Imogen, 
rising. " My regards to Mrs. Castleton, — " 

"She will call—" 

"I regret that I must postpone the pleasure. Trains wait 
for no woman. We leave for the West, — to-night." 

"Not to-night?" exclaimed the surprised Mam'selle, impul- 
sively. "But this morning, it was to be the little stay of a 
week, — a month, — " 

" To-night'' repeated Imogen, with a flash of impatience. 
" But of course I speak only for myself, Mam'selle ! You are 
welcome to remain as Carruthdale's chatelaine. You and Gladys 
must not discommode yourselves for me ! " 

" Mais impossible^ murmured Mam'selle, making her exit 
with the doctor. She alluded not only to departure, but to 
Imogen's implied independence. The doctor smiled down at 
her roguishly. 

" Few things are impossible to our young friend Mrs. Ray- 
mond," he said. "And there is one most probable possibility 
which above all others I hope soon to see fulfilled. A settled 
domestic life is the s61e specific for Mrs. Raymond's heart. 
Artificial atmospheres blight a woman, soul and body, quite as 
surely as they blight a flower." 

" But the good Monsieur Raymond her husband," objected 
Mam'selle, with a reproachful protest in her voice. In her 
virginal soul was a delicate loyalty, hurt by the suggestion of 
a successor to the departed. " She loved him at the last, — the 
poor child has told me. And, doctor, — woman-love implies 
faith ! " 

"Faith to love, yes, Mam'selle," smiled the doctor; "but 
in exceptional cases, love replaces the lover. To find love 
only to lose it is a crucial experience, and explains Mrs. Ray- 
mond's condition. Only when love substitutes love, will her 
heart be at peace. Ah, dear Mam'selle, these poor human 
hearts of ours ! " 

Imogen smiled astutely as the vocal murmur reached her. 
She suspected that she was the subject of discussion, but was 
far from imagining the doctor's sagacious conclusion. As yet 
she resisted clear self-knowledge, and had even less desire to 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 675 

reveal herself to odMca* But as Carruthdale memories thronged 
upon her, escape from herself was impossible. 

She arose, — her cruel little teeth visible against her under- 
lip as she bit it in proud impatience of her womanly weakness, — 
and flinging her loosely sleeved arms over her head, paced the 
noble room in petulant restlessness.. Carruthdale's library, — how 
it recalled scenes significant . of t^xe destiny facing her ! The 
rugs she trod, and the tapestries she brushed against, — the shin- 
ing marbles and bronze busts smiling or frowning at her from 
alcoves and corners, the subtle fragrance of the profusion of 
leather-bound books, — above all, the antique mirror reflective of 
significant soliloquy, revived memories which the present proved 
full of prophecy. As fulfilment neared, Imogen, like a woman, 
hesitated; foreknowing herself lost! 

** To-night you might be my Lady Buckingham or the Coun^ 
tess de Castlevieux — " 

Resistless memory forced her back to thoughts and words 
following Raymond's last exit from Carruthdale, when she had 
turned up the lights, as the cart flashed past the window, and 
mocked her beauty with reminders of its squandered chances 
of fortune. 

Yet only recently, when despairing of Gladys, both the 
Count and Lord Buckingham, with others of their sort, had sued 
for the rich young widow's favor, they had been less surprised 
than Imogen herself to discover their titled suit vain. Why? 
She strove to evade the answer, but memory is a tyrant. She 
recalled her soliloquy to its end. 

** Or if love surpassed pride ^ at least the wife of some dash^ 
ing young American Ccesar — 

The dashing young American Caesar, — who was he? For 
whom, for what, had she put the ocean between her and her 
noble suitors? Over her shoulder, as on that remembered 
night, it seemed as if Joyce Josselyn's face smiled her answer. 
Again she heard his voice, panting, appealing, — boyishly shy, 
yet manfully audacious : ** Mrs. Raymond^ I am going so far, 
— so far away / May I — might I— Just kiss your hand ? " 

She had been a wife then, and her hand had been denied 
his warm young lips, grateful and innocent as they were. But 
now, toward the vision, her white hand wavered ! Then she re- 
sumed her seat, thinking — thinking. 

Why had she tired of Europe, — Europe 'y had 



676 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

she returned to America ? Why was she homesick, heartsick for 
the West she had despised in Raymond's life- time ? To advance 
paradoxically towards the truth, by means of even more remote 
memory, — why had her late-bom love for her husband, blighted 
even in its seed, and the secret of the self-reproach torturing 
her widowhood, — ^found solace alone and only in thought or 
presence of Joyce Josselyn ? Not, as she had fancied in her 
bewilderment, because his faith to Raymond compensated for 
her unfaith — his devotion for her indifference ; — ^but, as she 
knew now, for the more simple, more womanly, more natural 
and intimate reason that love blighted in one bud had fructi- 
fied in another; — that her heart once love-kindled, shrined a 
flame defying extinction: in short, that her suddenly softened 
womanhood, craving its complement of human youth, had re- 
bounded from her husband's grave, revolted from the husks 
of the world that mocked it, and imperatively claimed its affinity. 

It was new to Imogen to think deeply, to feel strongly; 
new to her to be introspective save in a superficial and selfish 
way : newest of all for her pride to be subordinated to more 
tender and selfless sentiment; and her heart resumed its pain- 
ful palpitations as she wrestled with woman's sweet foe, love ! 
In Europe, even in Maintown, her attraction towards Joyce had 
seemed but a fancy to indulge, an experiment to dare, an ex- 
perience to test in sheer revulsion from monotony of conven- 
tion, and emptiness of life. But now at Carruthdale, with sig- 
nificant memory vividly recalled to her, she realized for the 
first time that her thought of Joyce was no jest, but earnest; 
and that her life was on .the verge of its momentous crisis, to 
be made or marred irrevocably to its end. 

It was bitter for the cold woman to acknowledge love at 
all ; — still more bitter for the proud woman to stoop to love, as 
the world would consider it. Joyce's father, his mother, the 
home of his youth rose before her. Her short lip curled 
superciliously, her jewelled hands clenched ; she bowed her pale 
face to them as her foot tapped the rug impatiently. All in 
vain her resistance. Human heart, woman* sex, imperious love 
had spoken. With the audacity accepting the inevitable in dis- 
dain of futile resistance, she rose and pressed the electric bell. 

" Tell Marie to pack at once," she commanded, when the 
summons was answered. " We shall leave Carruthdale to-night, 
for the West ! " 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 677 

"You may kiss my hand/' she said, gaily greeting Joyce a 
week later, — a Joyce dazed by the surprise of a summonis to 
the suddenly reopened Pacific Avenue house. '' It is the re- 
ward I promised you for making your mark beyond the obscure 
rut of local journalism 1 I have crossed the ocean to congratu- 
late you upon the Pioneer Mine 1 You have more than fulfilled 
my hopes, of you ! " 

Joyce's lips pressed the gracious white hand extended. 

And that was the beginning! 

The first caress between man and woman marks a milestone 
from which emotional relations go either forward or back. If a 
retreat is not beaten, intimacy develops at seven-leagued speed. 
A standstill at this intermediate point is impossible. Therefore, 
as was inevitable concerning Imogen's subtle provocation, Joyce 
pressed forward almost involuntarily. 

Yet the significance of his pace was slow to evince itself. 
Imogen would not have been Imogen, had she allowed him to 
recognize his trend prematurely. To Joyce, her attraction still 
seemed composite rather than individual. Not as h(\stess, but 
only as the least and last of three hostesses, did she assert her- 
self, as yet. In truth, Mam'selle and Gladys were the foils of 
her attack. In due time, of course, her thrust and parry would 
be evident; but at the start, feminine foils were expedient. 

With the consummate tact born of natural finesse and social 
experience, Imogen contrived that the friendship of Gladys 
should give Joyce his first social distinction. Then she utilized 
the gallant Colonel's chivalrous attendance upon the dead 
Raymond's feminine household ; and by public association be- 
trayed him into the position of his professional subordinate's 
social sponsor. It was a sponsorship which the obstreperous 
Colonel would have disowned from the housetops, had not 
feminine cleverness kept him in ignorance of it ; but manipulated 
by Imogen, even his daughter Breezy, — now Mrs. DoUard 
Pemberton, — resuming the gaieties the inauguration of a Pem- 
berton nursery had interrupted, socially championed Joyce, 
and stood for the Pearson name, when the Colonel himself 
proved unruly. As the social intimate of the Pearson-Pember- 
ton powers, and a recognized fixture upon the Raymond- 
Broderick hearthstone, Joyce arrived in a flash. Imogen's end 
was achieved. His position was a thing accomplished! 



678 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb , 

Acquisition |is nothing if not assimilative. Possession may 
not minimise values, but at least it naturalizes them ; and the 
glamour of the unknown, the marvel of the unattained, are lost, 
once for all, in the process. Therefore Joyce accepted his 
honors simply, by natural law of adaptation. Moreover, just at 
present, collective society but gilded his lily. Mam'selle, Mrs. 
Raymond, Gladys, — completely satisfied him. At least ui\til the 
charm of reunion had lost its novelty, his consciousness of 
women could not go beyond them. But Imogen urged upon 
him the duty of social reciprocity. For her own ends she 
wished him to make his mark in his first season, as a meteor 
trails its fire along the sky. 

" We are aching to investigate your ' Liberty Hall,' " she 
confided to him, as he lingered one night after an informal little 
dinner. " But no less than fifty decorous dowagers can chaperone 
this trio ! — In Paris and New York, bachelors are the most 
charming of hosts. It is always in good taste to imitate men 
of the world. Send out cards for a Sunday tea ! " 

"Sunday?" protested Gladys, who loved her Sunday- 
afternoon Benediction. " Since Mr. Josselyn is engaged through 
the week, why not wait for the coming holidays ? " 

" Because holidays are for — the others ! " retorted Imogen, 
with a disdainful grimace. " Sundays are new and naughty, — 
and above all things, naughty novelties insure success. 
Mam'selle, you will not scruple to pour eau sucre for your favor- 
ite Joyce ? " 

" As our young friend desires," smiled Mam'selle, indulgently. 
"The Sunday of the Continent, of my France, — is the Holy 
Mass first, and then the fete-day. I see no wrong in the 
hospitality to the friends, petite Gladys ! " 

" Oh, no wrong, of course," admitted Gladys. " Pray ex- 
cuse me. My lack of sympathy with the man of society be- 
trayed me into intrusive speech." 

" Is she snubbing my tea ? " inquired Joyce, in disappoint- 
ment. The suggestion of the function had gratified him. 

"No, Mr. Josselyn. I was merely thinking aloud — that a 
man's life — is an earnest thing." 

" But surely you would not deny him all social pleasures ? " 

" No, but I would urge him not to sacrifice real for fictitious 
pleasure. The young man once committed to the social whirl, 
seems to me to lose the greater joys outside it ! " 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 679 

" Oh, Gladys is a social heretic/' scoffed Imogen petulantly. 
**The greater joys are things to be demonstrated." 

" Challenged, Miss Broderick/' laughed Joyce, in earnest jest 
He desired the girl to explain herself. 

" I accept/' said Gladys, with a resolute look at Imogen. 
She liked Joyce so well that she had ideals for him. They 
were not of the social order. 

"True social pleasure/' she asserted, gently, "surely con- 
sists in intimate intercourse with the congenial spirits whom we 
complement, and who complement us ; yet society sacrifices 
these to a host of smart acquaintance. Then, the arts, for 
instance, which are among our highest enjoyments, are subor- 
dinated to the chat of the boxes. Eclectic development stand- 
ing first of purely personal pleasures, is surrendered necessarily, 
because the worldling cannot serve two masters. Even the 
delight of travel has been marred by convention, since Nature 
becomes only a scenic spectacle, when the pomp and purple of 
an artificial existence glitter between the great Mother and 
human hearts. As for pleasure's rarest regions of soul and in- 
tellect, society, as it is, has neither leisure nor thought for 
them. Do its pretty, superfluous, frivolous functions compensate ? 
Not to all women ; and surely to fewer men ! " 

** / confess to a weakness for gentlem^n^** — distinguished 
Imogen. "The best and most brilliant of men falls short of his 
possibilities, undeveloped on his social side." 

Joyce's perplexed eyes turned wistfully from face to face. 
Which was wiser, — worldly woman, or unworldly girl? Subtler 
than the spell of Imogen's more magnetic beauty, was Gladys' 
fine charm, for him. He liked her pure eyes and fair face, her 
earnest . thoughts and serious tastes ; her soul that impressed 
him as the gentler reflection of the souls of Father Martin and 
Stephen. But Imogen's theories appealed resistlessly to his 
ambition and vanity. The advice that flatters self-love is rarely 
rejected. Needless to say that Imogen gained her. point. 

So on one eventful Sunday, still remembered on the Pacific 
coast, Joyce, son of Anne Joyce and Hiram Josselyn, born and 
bred in the Maintown farm-house, served the elite of San Fran- 
cisco with Russian tea and other beverages more characteristic 
of jovial bachelorhood. On a week-day, the rapid masculine 
set would have laughed suc^ entertainment as a " tea " 

to scorn ; but as. Sunday yawning their heads 



68o Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

off, they presented themselves to a man, with the single excep- 
tion of Dick Dawson, whom a new automobile detained in the 
suburbs. He had lost control of it and its chaffeur simultane- 
ously, in his devotion to its superfluous hamper of champagne 
sec. 

Mam'selle seniorized Mrs. Dolly Pemberton's nominal hostess- 
ship. Imogen contrived to be inevident until the last hour. 
Then she drove on with her luncheon-guests, in the pose of 
one persuaded. In an armor of jet over lustreless white silk, 
she was of dashing yet subdued distinction, and Joyce exulted 
to welcome her. Gladys had arrived with Mam'selle, but soon 
retreated to the music-room, where her host was not free to 
follow her. 

Originally modest in scope, Joyce's suite had been extended 
at the time of Stephen's criticism of it, by the inclusion at 
either end of an adjoining studio, previously locked off and 
rented separately. Equipped as music and billiard rooms, these 
now gave character as well as spaciousness to the apartment as 
a whole, and suggested an artistic rather than a pretentious 
atmosphere. Such appointments as lacked value, like Joyce 
himself, achieved effect. The correct florist and caterer had 
evinced tact and taste, in their modest service, and no ostenta- 
tion offended. The dainty frozen fruits, punches glacis^ and 
flower- shaped ices in evidence, proffered ideal rather than 
material refreshment : and the floral decorations were confined 
to clusters of roses serving to conceal the electric bulbs, poeti- 
cally substituted by shaded candles. Swaying measures from 
Mexican harps and guitars floated from the outer staircase, lin- 
gering along the air as tenderly as tremulous sighs of love. 

Handsome, well-turned- out, in highest spirits, and enjoying 
himself as irresponsibly as his gayest guest, Joyce passed from 
group to group, his contagious smile winning the world's smile 
for him. 



a 



Laugh, and the world laughs with you,** 



is a truism, — and the triumph of Joyce exemplified it. Super- 
cilious matrons, high-colored and portly in heavy velvets and 
satins, lowered their critical lorgnons inch by inch, conceding 
resistless approval. Conservative spinsters, whom curiosity alone 
had tempted to risk their orthodox reputations by unorthodox 
dissipation on the Seventh Day, fell blushing victims to Joyce's 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 681 

impartial gallantries, and forgave him his reputed wild-oats. 
Splendidly set-up men, whose grooming could give points to the 
most correct Easterner, over punches frozen and otherwise (but 
chiefly otherwise), voted Joyce a good fellow who did n't poison 
his friends I The gay, glowing, overdressed girls flirting simul- 
taneously with host and guests as they sipped frothed chocolate 
and nibbled ices, pronounced *' bachelor-teas just too sweet for 
anything,'' and challenged each and every unfortunate bachelor 
present to follow the Josselyn example. Even the Colonel, as 
he vacillated with the regularity of a pendulum between Mam'- 
selle and the smoking-room's mysteriously attractive sideboard, 
was soothed to a state of lamb-like meekness, though at first he 
had pooh-poohed with scathing scorn his associate's social 
splurge. 

*' Is n't our evolved Joyce adorable ? " whispered Imogen to 
Gladys, as in the thinning crowd they drifted together. " He 
is no longer a boy, but a man — to be reckoned with ! " 

" Ye — es," admitted Gladys, lifting her muff to inhale its 
mass of natural violets. She was a study in unrelieved violet 
velvet, to which Imogen ascribed her delicate pallor. But 
Gladys' color was a barometer visibly registering her emotions. 
The unsolved problem of social life was depressing her. 

" What an enthusiastic assent," laughed Imogen, satirically. 
■" ' Faint praise,' you know. Why so grudging to Joyce's change 
for the better ? " 

" Mais ouif* beamed Mam'selle, overhearing the words as the 
Colonel escorted her through the rooms. " Our beau garfon has 
found himself. He is no longer gauche. He is tris comme il 
fautf — Monsieur Josselyn ! " 

As the Colonel's gray head bent devotedly towards Mam'- 
selle's coiffure, Imogen's lips curled in scornful amusement. 

" How unspeakably absurd," she murmured ; — *' and yet — 
what an idyl ! But love- idyls, alas, are for youth ! " 

" But love renews youth, Mrs. Raymond ! " 

Imogen suggested refreshments, and the men surrounding 
them sped away in her service. She had decided upon a word 
here and now to Gladys. Environment would lend its effect. 

"Love is a new word on your lips, my vestal," she said 
significantly. "Who is reconciling you to the human senti- 
ment? As to the legend of love's immortal youth, consider 
the paradox, — since love is the maturer of lovers ! " 

VOL. LXXYI. — 44 



682 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

Her face, as she smiled at Gladys, had a dangerous beauty. 
Beneath the smile glittered a menace. 

" Our host, for instance,'' she confided in a lower voice. 
" Who runs, reads the change even you admit in him. Expe* 
rience alone matures boyhood's crudity to magnetic manhood. 
In our absence, my child, Joyce has lived ! " 

" Lived ? But of course he has lived ! " 

" Lived in the emotional sense, you incorrigible innocent. 
The ' eternal feminine,' you know, and all that 1 " 

" No, Mrs. Raymond, I do not know," refuted Gladys, with 
sudden hauteur. Before the proud purity of her gaze, Imogen's 
eyes sank. With a laugh of derision to cover her discomfiture, 
she awaited her returning knights of the table. 

" Hot chocolate, or punch a la anything, — but no ices," she 
shivered, as they reached her. " I find the altitude of Miss 
Broderick's social ideals sufficiently freezing 1 Stimulate my 
depressed temperature with' the latest gossip of the Clubs ! " 

She sauntered away with the Clubs' gayest spirits. Gladys, 
demolishing a blush-rose ice frozen petal by petal, smiled and 
chatted mechanically, with her thoughts on Imogen's words. 
Their innuendo was unmistakable, and Imogen never spoke idly. 
Of what had Joyce been guilty, — what ? 

Gladys was not ignorant of the sin of the world ; but in 
pure natures, — a divine truth incomprehensible to the coarse and 
evil-minded, — such abstract knowledge but intensifies personal 
innocence ; and as yet she had failed to realize that moral 
laxity was not as remote from the individual man with whom 
she came in social contact, as from her own chaste and immuned 
soul. Scandalous gossip had been as impossible to Raymond as 
it was to Mam'selle; and Imogen was both too proud and too 
fastidious to offend the spiritually delicate ; so Gladys had pre- 
served in the world the inviolate atmosphere characterizing the 
convent ; and that desecration should approach her first through 
Joyce, seemed to the girl the refinement of cruelty. Ever since 
the evening at Carruthdale when Dr. Castleton had related the 
pathetic story of Joyce's boyish ambition, her sympathies had 
been with its humble hero : and recognizing that spiritual fail- 
ure tragedizes temporal success, she had prayed much for the 
quickening of his soul-life. If mere natural pity is akin to love, 
the prayer of spiritual pity and zeal sows the seed of tender 
thought and memory. In Europe, Gladys had remembered 



^903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 683 

Joyce. Reassociated with him just as the irrevocable loss of 
Stephen tempted her girlish Heart to loneliness, though her soul 
still exulted in its holy sacrifice, she had found the impetuous 
young American a refreshing relief from Old World blaseism 
and foreign diplomacy, and unconsciously had played into Imo- 
gen's hands, by promoting him from acquaintance to intimacy* 
Of the good faith and perfect truth of Imogen's words, she had 
a vague distrust ; yet partial justification, at least, she knew they 
must possess, and the suggestion of a flaw in Joyce's moral 
life burned between her and him like an angel's sword of 
flame. 

The soft strain from the stairway seemed to sob afar and 
faintly ; the flowers blurred before her eyes ; the lights flickered 
and dimmed, and the murmur and clink and light laughter pre- 
vailing, confused her like an undispelled dream. The hurt of 
her first disillusion bewildered her, wounding her soul even 
more deeply than her human heart. She revolted with the 
fierceness of a virginal nature aroused, from the whited sepul- 
chre of masculine life, into w'hich her first glance was taken; 
All the infinite pain and pity of the pride of life, of the sin of 
the flesh, of the evil that men do, seemed disclosed to her in 
one overwhelmingly sudden revelation. From the spurious civil- 
ization, the superficial morality, the surface- culture beneath which 
unshriven spirits lurk like mocking ghosts, that go to make up 
human life as it is lived, the world's glory as it reigns, the 
ethics of society obtaining under seal of Mammon, she shrank 
with a distaste first and chiefly spiritual. Her thoughts sped to 
the tender Christ,-— to the proximate church where even now 
the beautiful service of Benediction was concluding. How 
wounded the Sacred Heart must be with it all ! How it seemed 
to profane the white, white Eucharist ! As the fickle crowd dis- 
persed, keen in quest of new interest, now that curiosity as to 
the Josselyn tea was satisfied, her eyes, with pathetic eagerness, 
sought for Mam'selle and Imogen. She felt a feverish desire to 
escape from Joyce's rooms. But already her host had joined 
her. 

*• At last," he sighed, sinking into a seat beside her. " How 
inhospitable to speed the departing guest! But Mrs. Raymond 
forbade me to indulge myself till the rest of the world had gone 
its way, and it was hard to be so near and yet so far from 
you ! May I make up, now, for lost time ? " 



684 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

He was radiant with excitement, and looked exultant and 
happy. The laughing, mischievous spirit always uppermost in 
his bright moods, was in full possession of him. He leaned 
towards her confidently. The impulse to express himself, — per- 
haps still more to mpress himself, was upon him ! The lights 
glowed in his eyes, and on his flushed face the glow of the 
flowers seemed reflected. But the blight of darkness and frost 
was in Gladys' reserved manner. Never before had she failed 
ko meet his overtures half-way, — never before denied him the 
most cordial response and sympathy. Was it his Sunday function 
that had displeased and disappointed her? With the exultant 
glow fading out of his face, he gazed at her in helpless dis- 
ttiay. 

"We are indebted to you for a charming afternoon," she 
said, with crushing formality. "Will you be kind enough to 
tell Mrs. Raymond that I am waiting for her? We, too, must 
be taking leave." 

"But you are forgetting my little supper," he protested. 
" I have ordered it up for just us Pioneers, you know. Are 
you sure you have made the grand tour of my rooms ? I have 
been anticipating the pleasure of showing you — " 

" Thank you, but I have an engagement — " 

"You shall be released in time for the evening, truly. Just 
excuse me while I dispense with the orchestra — " 

The final serenade was da capo-ing itself plaintively. The 
dark-eyed Mexicans had played on and on in hopeful patience, 
awaiting a word of appreciation, as well as of dismissal. They 
were tired, athirst, and perhaps more than all, a bit heart-sick 
for natural human kinship with the fellow- creatures about them. 
Young and hot-blooded, passionate at heart and romantic of 
temperament, their profession was not a cold matter of business 
to them, but a minstrelsy surviving the romantic age. 

As Joyce's friendly smile flashed upon their horizon, their 
tragical eyes brightened; and with supple fingers still caress- 
ing the resonant strings, they gazed at his bright face expec- 
tantly. 

" Say, you boys," he praised, " you 've done splendidly ! 
Music Mexicana tiptop, — beats the world, and all that ! Now, 
there's a spread for you ready and waiting below-stairs. And 
here 's a nugget apiece to remember me by ! " 

With graceful bows, and gestures of courteous protest, the 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 685 



Mexicans rose to their gold-pieces, — a sextette transfigured. 
They responded perfervidly, like the children of tropical nature 
and passionate song that they were. The Seiior their host 
was '' a fair god " of immortal beauty and youth. His home was 
a palace, and the music of Mexico sung its song for him only 1 
When he made his laughing way back to Gladys, seated within 
sight and sound of the little scene, her reserve had softened 
perceptibly. He was kind, he was tender, and if he had erred, 
it was not for her to judge and sentence, but to regenerate 
himl As her spirits rebounded, unconsciously she coquetted 
with her muff, as in presence of the animate, a girl instinctively 
coquettes with inanimate things. Its purple velvet shimmered 
elusively, — its cream lace fluffed seductively, — and the scent of 
its violets floated to him. Their blue shades matched her eyes, 
— their darker purple shades, his! The similitude seemed to 
give him a claim upon them. Discarding his boutonniere, — a 
single chrysanthemum, — he broke off a violet cluster. 

" May I wear your colors, Miss Broderick ? " he asked, and 
adjusted them before her answer. 

Gladys was nothing if not conscientious. Youth's irrespon- 
sible point of view had been shut from her alike by her mother* 
lessness, by her father's companionship, and by the sweet dignity 
of the religious, her girlhood's teachers, whose gentle joy of the 
Holy Ghost has no touch in common with flippancy. It seemed 
to her that Joyce trod the verge of a crisis. The social tempta- 
tion is a peril to the unspiritual. She must ignore his past, 
and think only of his future. A true friend's word was in 
season. 

" My colors," she warned him, " are not the carnival- colors 
of the world of pleasure, Mr. Josselyn." 

Below-stairs the feasting Mexicans gaily twanged their gui- 
tars. From the adjoining room, clicking billiard-balls and light 
laughter sounded. But the candles and roses framed the main 
suite like a sanctuary, where girl and man, soul and soul, faced 
each other. 

" The world," repeated Joyce, stepping closer, bending lower 
towards her. "You have a grievance against the world. Miss 
Broderick. What is it?" 

Her clear eyes lifted, looking into his steadfastly. 

*' What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world?'' 
she asked him, in answer. 



686 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

He stared at her wonderingly, in startled silence. Father 
Martin, Stephen, had put the same question. Why was this 
one text for ever rising against him, on the lips of those he 
loved best ? An intuition, a presentiment, of fateful significance 
disturbed him. But his human hurt and disappointment ex- 
ceeded his spiritual unrest. So Gladys did not like him as a 
society- man, a worldling; — and he had been exulting that she 
was a witness of his success! 

^' If the world profits less than its face- value promises, still 
its gain seems worth while ! " he insisted, resentfully. ** Is your 
ideal for others quite fair. Miss Broderick, considering that you 
— that you — " 

Her soft laugh answered him. She liked the impulsive candor 
that was valorous rather than discreet. His judgment had its 
justice, and policy was refreshingly lacking. Her eyes, smiling 
up at him, looked like bluebells steeped in sunshine. Joyce 
thought he had never seen her quite so approachable. 

"Considering that I preach ideals I fail to practise?" she 
finished for him, mischievously. '' I admit that appearances are 
strongly against me; but grant the benefit of the doubt to my 
jconvictions, Mr. Josselyn, till I begin to live my own life ! I 
share Mrs. Raymond's until the New Year, that her social re- 
turn may be made easy. As Advent is near, my dissipations 
already are ending. I may call this my farewell* appearance ! " 

" You propose to withdraw altogether from society ? " he 
questioned, incredulously. 

"No, but I shall be no longer a slave to society. There is 
work, — work of duty, — to be done by day ; and personal tastes 
to indulge in my free time, quite aside from the social routine. 
These conventional functions have lost their charm for me. 
They play at humanities, but do not live them. I wish to live 
life at its full high-tide; — not to waste my youth in its shal- 
lows." 

"Then all this — this brilliance and beauty, — really have no 
fascination for you ? " he asked, with a dazzled glance about 
him. 

"Atmospheres of beauty are fascinating to us all. Lights 
and flowers and music, men and women at their gayest and 
fairest if not at their best, are magnetic influences, and the 
human side responds to them. But our spiritual, our intellectual, 
our heart-sides, too, have their claims." 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 687 

" Oh, as to the heart-side, I 'm with you," hastened Joyce, 
jumping at his chance. '*You know, now. Miss Broderick that 
I— er— " 

From the billiard-table sounded the click of balls, as Dolly, 
now the room's solitary occupant, idly toyed with the cue, 
while smoking. At the opposite end of the suite, Imogen was 
trying Joyce's new upright with a hard, cold, brilliant touch, 
her arpeggios covering Breezy's baby-talk to Mam'selle, while 
the Colonel beamed upon both, and admitted that Dolly junior 
did due credit to his grandfather! But in the main suite, 
Gladys and Joyce stood alone ; their eyes seeking and hiding, 
their hearts responding yet resisting, their faces flushing and 
paling, after the fashion of young eyes and young hearts and 
young faces the world over. Gladys found herself listening 
breathlessly for Joyce's next words, — and Joyce's heart throbbed 
violently, as if to silence him. What was he tempted to say, 
by the spell of the hour, in the presumption of success ? To 
betray his lurking sentiment for Gladys had never been his 
conscious expectation ; it was Imogen who thrilled and daunted 
ancT allured him; but as the girl stood before him fair and 
sweet and gracious, yet provocatingly remote even in her near- 
ness, not only the primeval impulse of Adam to claim Eve 
asserted itself, but all that was best and highest in Joyce in- 
stinctively cried out for what seemed its complement. 

" Miss Broderick," he stammered, " the social side is n't 
in it with the heart-side, of course ! You must know that I — 
I—" 

But whatever words were upon Joyce's lips, they were 
destined not to be spoken. At the door which he had closed 
upon the grateful Mexicans sounded a sudden knock, followed 
by the abrupt entrance of Hans Kauffmann. Disdaining the 
elevator, and mounting the stairs two at a time, at the Sunday- 
hour when Joyce, on general principles, had asserted that he 
was always alone, it had not occurred to Hans to associate the 
decorated hall and festive lights with the Pioneer's sub- editor. 
Jollifications in the different studios were of frequent occur- 
rence, and he had ascribed the palms and candelabra of the 
hall to one of these. His haste to rectify his mistake was by 
no means lessened as the Colonel's familiar growl betrayed his 
proximity. 

" Oh, I beg pardon, — excuse me," he stammered, backing 



688 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Feb., 

and advancing alternately in distressed indecision. '^ I just ran 
up as you told me, sir, — '* 

" Fly, Hans, or the terrible Colonel will fall foul of you ! '* 
laughed Joyce, concealing his annoyance. 

But the Colonel was already upon them, a sudden quest for 
Gladys having been instituted by Imogen, who decided that the 
tite-a^tite in session had been of sufficient duration. Editor and 
foreman stared at each other with startled eyes. The Colonel, 
who knew nothing of Joyce's friendship for Hans, was the more 
aghast of the two. 

'' Nothing the matter at the Pioneer^ is there ? " he de- 
manded, curtly. 

" Oh, no, sir ! I just stopped in with a message to Mr. 
Josselyn — " 

*^ What is it ? " inquired Imogen, flashing imperiously to the 
front. '' Do give us the latest specials I " 

" It is n't about my baby, is it ? " suggested Breezy, ner- 
vously. " Oh Dolly, do let 's go home ! " 

'' Sensible woman ! " agreed the Colonel, who was beginning 
to long for his newspapers and slippers. ''The hearthstone, — 
with a congenial and sympathetic companion to share it," he 
added, casting sheeps'-eyes at the flushing Mam'selle, '* is the 
true social setting for man and woman. Home-life, not this 
gadabouting — " 

But for once the Colonel's eloquence was rudely interrupted. 
Suddenly, up from the street rose a news-boy's insistent cry. 

" Extra i Extra ! Extra ! " 

" W — w — what ? " stammered the Colonel, purple to the 
verge of apoplexy, with surprise and rage. " What Extra? 
Whose Extra?—" 

Without an apology even to Mam'selle, he tore down the 
stairs bareheaded, as lithely as any youth. 

" Has some one got a beat, and we not in it ? " demanded 
Joyce, excitedly. " By Jove, Hans, if the Pioneer is left — " 

" Extra ! Extra I Extra ! — Extra Daily Scout. Full ac^ 
count of the Pioneer Mine Disaster I Extra ! Extra I Extra ! ** 

As Hans dashed from the room, Joyce stood paling and 
silent. A disaster in the mine meant the slump of values. His 
thought went no further than this.' 

"Supper, sir!" announced the waiter, flinging open the por- 
tieres screening the ante-room table. It was set out with can- 



I903-J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 689 

dies and flowers and fancy-pieces in fruits and bonbons. Wine 
glowed, carafes glistened, the damask cloth was fluted and 
crimped into a fine fern pattern, the napkins opened like bloom- 
ing lilies, each calyxed by a golden roll. An odor of rich 
viands floated towards them. 

" Extra ! Extra ! " 

''Supper is served, sir," reiterated the waiter, reproachfully. 

Supper 1 Oh, the satire, the mockery of it! Joyce hissed 
an anathema through his teeth. 

" Sit down. Joss,'' urged Dolly, pushing a chair towards 
Joyce. '' Don't look like a ghost, man ! It 's bound to be a 
hoax, — the mere dodge of a rival paper ! " 

" No I " murmured Joyce, with white lips. " It is not a 
fake, Dolly* The Scout is against us, but it 's methods are 
straight. There's something wrong with the Pioneer!" 

''Oh, an explosion or two establishes a mine," consoled 
Imogen flippantly. " A disaster is the best of advertisements ! " 

"Ah, but the sudden and unprovided death of the poor 
miners, — " cried Gladys, pitifully. 

" Le bon Dieu grant repose to their souls," murmured Mam'- 
selle. 

" Dolly Pemberton," whispered Breezy, audible in her mater- 
nal excitement, " I want to go home to my baby this very 
minute — " 

'^ Extra ! Extra! — The Pioneer Mine the Biggest Fraud on 
Record! Full Account of the Swindle. Owners off to Canada. — 
Extra ! Extra ! " 

" My God ! " gasped Joyce, wildly. 

They stared at him in impotent silence. Even Imogen was 
appalled by the tragic announcement. 

If Joyce's mine was a fraud, — what of Joyce f 

(to be continued.) 



1 • 
1 1 


^ 


lt)iew8 anb IReviews. 


^ 


^ 



I Cabrol : Le Livre de la fVikre Antique ; 3. Tanquerey : Synopsis Tkeoloig^ia 
Moralis : De Fxniieniia^ Matrimonio Ordine ; 3. Macdonnell : Sons ofFroH" 

cis ; 4. Summtda Philosophice Sckolastica in usum Seminarii B€at€e 

Marice de Monte Melleario Concinnata; 5. Clayton: Father Dolling; 6. 
Blosias: Comfort /or the Faint-Hearted; 7. Morgan-Morgan: Between the 
Cubes ; 8. Wright : Dogtown ; 9. Fowler : The Boy, How to Help Him to 
Succeed; 10. Lehmann: How to Sing ; 11. Henaer: The Hoftnony of the 
Religious Life ; 12. Lang : fames VI, and the Gowrie Mystery, 



1. — ^The English Benedictines and the French Benedictines 
resident in England are doing noble •work in many of the eccle- 
siastical sciences, but there is a science especially dear to them 
— as indeed to all the sons of St. Benedict — the science of the 
Liturgy. The classic work on the subject is, of course, the 
Liturgical Year of Dom Gueranger. But that famous book 
labors under the disadvantage — we dare not call it a fault — of 
trying to serve two distinct purposes, viz., to provide solid litur- 
gical learning for the student, and to beget the knowledge and 
diffuse the love of the prayer of the church among the people. 
And Dom Gueranger, if we may express a private opinion, has 
not so skilfully concealed the evidences of technical learning as 
to enable his work to be thoroughly popular. 

But here is a delightful volume * by Dom Cabrol, brother 
Benedictine and worthy compeer of Dom Gueranger, which, in- 
stead of covering the whole litui^cal year and treating it ex- 
haustively, has selected the general features of the public prayer 
of the church, has illustrated them by accurate — indeed pro- 
found — historical and antiquarian knowledge, and has, withal, so 
elaborated and decorated the learning it contains as to secure 
not only the interest of the scholar, but that of all the intelli- 
gent Catholic people. 

No work could be more edifying than such as this. Every 
Catholic who can read French ought to procure, read, and 
meditate over L^ Livre de la Priere Antique^ and some able 
translator who has leisure ought to give the English- reading 
Catholics the benefit of this magnificent treatise. 

Dom Cabrol has an idea that is eminently correct: that the 
Catholic people do not know the beauty and the profundity of 
the prayers, the Mass, and the general liturgical service of the 

* Lt Livre dt la Priire Antique, Par Dom Fernand Cabrol, Benedictine. Paris : Oudin. 
1900. 



1903.] Views and revieivs, 691 

church, but that nothing could give them greater stimulus in 
their spiritual life than to know this inheritance that is theirs 
as children of Holy Mother Church. 

In his preface the author narrates a ludicrous but very in- 
structive anecdote concerning La Fontaine. It seem the gentle 
and ingenuous fable-philosopher had attended some service in 
which a selection was read from the book of Baruch the prophet. 
In a burst of. astonishment and delight at the beauty of the 
reading, he left the church and saluted every one he met with 
the exclamation, " Have you read Baruch ? " Now Dom Cabrol 
takes occasion to ask the people, " Have you read the missal ? " 
** Do you know anything of the prayers of the breviary ? " 

In the missal is preserved, crystallized in prayer, the sweet- 
est, strongest spirit that ever breathed in Holy Church, the 
spirit of uncontaminated primitive Christianity. No creation of 
the human imaginative genius can compare with this marvellous 
epic of the Christian year written through the days and the 
seasons of the missal and the breviary ; no poem or drama ever 
composed can equal in depth .and sublimity, in sweetness, in 
power, the ineffable poem of the Mass, or the moving drama 
of the divine office. "The greatest prayer-book in the world," 
said Newman of the breviary ; yet who among the Catholic peo- 
ple knows anything of it ? And as for the Holy Mass, who is 
there among the laity that knows the least of its historical 
suggestions, who is there that can transport himself in spirit to 
the Christian antiquity recalled by the vestments of the priest, 
pictured in his every movement at the altar, sbunded in every 
tone of the verbal accompaniment of the sublime sacrifice ? 

Cardinal Manning in his classic. The Eternal Priesthood^ com- 
ing to the points where he might be expected to speak of the 
priest's Communion, refrains, remarking only : '^ If I do not 
speak of Communion it is only because every priest knows what 
cannot be told in words." Those who realize the significance, 
and feel the unction of the sacred liturgy, might likewise say : 
" If we do not attempt to describe the power and the beauty of 
the prayer of the church, it is because those who know it feel 
more than can be told, and those who know it not cannot be 
told." And here is the service that Dom Cabrol's book will do 
for those who take it up. It will introduce them to an intelli- 
gent appreciation of the divine liturgy, and it will, through the 
understanding, bind and affect the hearts of the people as they 
assist at the ancient Sacrifice of the Spouse of the Church and 



692 VIEIVS AND REVIEIVS. [Feb., 

listen to the words in which she, who has been with Him and 
has known Him from antiquity, tells the moving story of His 
life and death. 

Students of the Liturgy will be glad to know that the present 
volume from Dom Cabrol's pen is only a forerunner of a com- 
plete scientific work on the liturgy, now in the hands of the 
learned Benedictines of the Famborough monastery. 

2* — ^We trust that all the priests in the country will procure 
for themselves Father Tanquerey's Synopsis Theologia Motalis^^ 
the first volume of a complete course in Moral, which is to 
supplement the author's well-known cursus in Dogmatic Theol- 
ogy. The present volume deals with Penance, Matrimony, and 
Holy Orders; the first two being the subjects, as every priest 
knows, which one finds occasion to look up most frequently. 
Father Tanquerey, after the manner of Lehmkuhl, makes an 
effort to combine the summary method of manuals with that 
deeper discussion of principles which characterizes special and 
elaborate treatises. In the application of principles he has ever 
before his mind, and upon his page, our domestic American 
conditions. This alone gives his work a great value, for he is 
very full upon this most important point He has gone to 
great pains also in collecting the moral decisions of the Roman 
Congregations. Frequently, too, one comes upon a passage 
which furnishes excellent material for private direction or for 
public instruction; for example, the author's admirable remarks 
on mixed marriages. Typographically the book is a delight to 
the eye. A full index is the final finish to a volume whose 
excellent qualities are almost beyond number. 

8* — ^We are glad to have so early an opportunity of welcom- 
ing a book t which does much toward fulfilling a desire recently 
expressed that our English literature would be enriched with 
studies in the life of St. Francis and the early Franciscans 
which would place at the disposal of English and American 
readers the great stores of inspiring erudition recently ac-. 
cumulated by the extraordinary " Franciscan movement " in 
Europe. The scope of Miss Macdonnell's work takes in the. 
history, presented in the form of biographical sketches, of 
the companions and of the most eminent successors in the. 

* Synopsis TheologitB Moralis: De Paaiitentia, Matrimonio, Ordiue. Auctore Ad. Tan- 
querey, S.S. New York: Benziger Brothers. 1902. 

i Sons of Francis, By Anne Macdonnell. London: J. M. Dent & Co. ; New York: G. 
P. Putnam's Sons. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 693 

order, of the great founder himself. Giles the Ecstatic, 
Brother Leo, Frate Elias, John of Parma, Pope Celestine 
v., and Jacopone da Todi are the chief characters thus 
written about; and the very mention of these celebrated names 
will disclose to the Franciscan student how important a task 
this work sets itself to achieve. And it achieves it in a highly 
creditable manner. The author is familiar with the recent 
studies in early Franciscanism, and she employs this technical 
knowledge of her subject not in writing an exhaustive treatise 
of interest only to the specialist, but rather in presenting an 
earnest and attractive narration to the ordinary reader. Those 
marvellous days of the young order fresh from the- last sad 
blessing of the holy founder seem to have taken hold of our 
author's historical imagination and quite engaged her sympa- 
thies. But we regret that the same absorption into her subject 
does not appear in her style. Her language has not the so- 
briety, the impressiveness, and the dignity that we look for in 
one who has thoroughly undergone the influence of the times 
and the men she portrays. Too often the expression suggests 
the smartness of a twentieth century critic gazing curiously at 
the thirteenth. Too often we are reminded that if the picture 
on the canvas is mediaeval, the frame in which it is set, the 
light through which we see it, and the guide «who describes its 
details, are modern, and very modern. Take this sentence for 
example : '' Peter was not one of those hermits who continually 
pay themselves for their austerities by shining pictures of plea- 
sures in the world, alternating to and fro between voluptuous 
excess and voluptuous deprivation." Or this flippant remark on 
the killing of a friar by his jailer : ** The occurrence caused no 
end of annoyance to Elias. There are. so many inquiries made 
when you happen to kill a saint, even unintentionally." And 
this expression from the Introduction : " True Pantheist, how- 
ever good a Catholic — and indeed where 's the contradiction?" 
This distance between style and theme is unhappily a charac- 
teristic of this work, and greatly lessens its value. The spell of 
the early Franciscan days is not here; or if it is present at 
times, it is broken soon by the intrusion of a later spirit, which 
is noisy when we would be still. Nevertheless this book is 
fascinating. It has not a dry page. Incidents are thrown to- 
gether with a fine sense of historical proportion and carried 
along with a dramatic rapidity which make stimulating reading 
indeed. No student of Franciscan origins will neglect to read it. 



694 Views and Reviews. [Feb., 

4. — With the existing plethora of Latin text- books of Scho* 
lastic philosophy, a new one needs to possess some proper ex- 
cellence to justify its appearance. The characteristics which 
the volume* just issued for the use of students in Mount Mel- 
leray Seminary might adduces as its raison d'etre are copious 
and well chosen notes from modern writers, many of them 
English, and a very satisfactory typographical arrangement. 
The volume covers logic and ontology. It is strictly scholastic 
in doctrine and form. The author, in his text, proceeds almost 
step by step in company with Rev. Charles Frick, S.J., in his 
two volumes issued in Freiburg. In the treatment of some 
questions, however, unlike Father Frick, he is not burdened 
with the necessity of justifying the Thomism of domestic doc* 
trine, and consequently the reader is relieved of several so.ne- 
what tedious discussions on points of very secondary interest to 
the general run of students. There is, too, some, though not 
enough, practical recognition of the necessity of supplying the 
student with some adequate information concerning the views 
and arguments of modern philosophy. On finishing his philo- 
sophic course the Catholic student really knows but little of 
either the strength or weakness of modern theories which he 
has disposed of in half a dozen lines, and by an argument 
ex absurdo. Nor is he sufficiently equipped to defend his own 
doctrines against an able opponent who takes his stand upon 
modern principles. We trust that the effort made to remedy 
this want by the author of this volume will be still more con- 
spicuous in the next one, in which he will deal with the re- 
maining divisions of his subject. If he does so his work will 
deserve and will certainly meet with a hearty welcome from 
teachers and students. 

5. — The life of Father Dolling f is the life of an apostle. 
Never have we read the history of a man more consecrated to 
God and to abandoned souls. He was an Anglican, but so 
Christ-like were his interior life and his external labors, that 
we hesitate not to call him a very prince in that communion 
of just souls which is the invisible kingdom of God's Holy 
Spirit For almost twenty years he worked in the slums of 
Portsmouth and London. Despising conventionalities, irritated 

* Summula Pkilosophia Scholastics in usum Seminarii Beatce Maria de Monti MeUearia 
Concinnata. Vol. I.: Logica et Ontologia. Dublinii : apud Browne & Nolan. 

t Father Dolling : A Memoir. By Joseph Clayton. London : Wells, Gardner, Darton 
& Co. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 695 

with officialism, but all absorbed in zeal and tenderness, he 
gave himself body and mind and heart and soul to the salva- 
tion of little children, the reformation of the criminal, the re- 
claiming of the outcast. Every day at his table from ten to 
forty of the poor and the unfortunate broke bread with him, 
and in this ''sacrament of a common meal," as his striking 
phrase is, took heart of hope from his inspiring presence, his 
paternal kindness. Until he could preach no more, until his 
toil-broken body lay down in final rest last May, he begged 
and sweated for his poor. God give him sweet repose ! No 
man whose vocation is to work for souls can read this sketch 
of his glorious life without feeling lifted up to purer love for 
the world's Redeemer and to more vehement zeal for those 
unhappy multitudes who know not yet what it is to have been 
redeemed. 

6. — Some twenty-five years ago Father Bowden, of the 
London Oratory, edited a small English translation of several 
of the spiritual works written by Blosius, that famous monk of 
whom Lady Lovat has written a biography, entitled An English 
Benedictine of the Sixteenth Century, That translation, after at 
least three editions, went out of print; and with the possible 
exception of The Mirror for Monks^ translated by the late 
Bishop Coffin (C.SS.R.), Blosius was rapidly sinking into 
oblivion when Father Wilberforce, the English Dominican, came 
to the rescue. In quick succession he has presented us with 
translations of two very valuable works. The Spiritual Instruct 
tion and Comfort for the Faint- Hearted,^ In addition, a new 
and cheap publication of two smaller works, Mirror for Monks 
and Oratory of the Faithful Soul, has been undertaken by the 
same house, the London Art and Book Company, which brought 
out Father Wilberforce's translations. 

To few books has it been given to meet with such en- 
couraging success as that attained by the English version of 
Blosius' Spiritual Instruction, The translator's choice was a 
wise one; the impression made by his work has been simply 
profound: to numerous souls it has brought inspiration, com- 
fort, and guidance in the paths that lead toward perfection.^ 
For the new companion volume we look for almost equal suc- 
cess, fulfilling as it does a kindred purpose. The first book 

* Comfort for the FainUHeartecL By Ludovicus Blosius, O.S.B. (Louis de Blois). 
Translated from the Latin by Bertrand A. Wilberforce, of the Order o( St. Dominic. London i 
Art and Book Company. 



696 Views and Revieivs. [Feb., 

called upon souls to look away from self and toward God ; this 
second bids them to abandon anxiety and depression and fear, and 
to confide unendingly in the divine Goodness. Much of the 
text is not Blosius' own, but is composed of extracts from 
Tauler, Suso, Florentius, and various of the Fathers; yet it has 
our good old abbot's stamp upon it and is redolent of his spirit, 
and will teach souls the truths he loved to dwell upon. If you 
are ever tempted to doubt, discouragement, faint-heartedness, 
timorousness, or scruples, read this book and be comforted ; and 
pray for the man who has so graciously introduced to the 
notice of our century the precious teachings of Louis of Blois. 

7. — As the excavations in Pompeii have given the modem 
world a glimpse into the domestic and social life of the ancient 
pagan world, so the excavations in the catacombs have re- 
vealed a great deal of the religious life of the early Christians. 
The earliest form of Christian history are the paintings on the 
'walls in the catacombs, and it is a most interesting study to 
trace out the identity between the teachings of the church in 
the early ages and the teachings of the church to-day. Later 
on, when the art of mosaics developed, the method of the 
little cubes was used. The ninth century is the famous era of 
mosaics. Mrs. Morgan-Morgan* has given in her published 
lectures a most interesting statement of the results obtainable 
from the study of the mosaics in the ancient Christian churches. 

8. — Mabel Osgood Wright f has given us a new book all 
abput dogs and the children who love them. It may be taken 
as a curious bit of psychological study, why it is that people 
who love dogs do not love cats. The author differentiates the 
two classes. She ranks among the cat-lovers ''ladies who pre- 
fer indoors to outdoors." She has given with the text of an 
entertaining lot of gossip about dogs a collection of pictures 
of dogs, with all kinds of expression in their faces and in all 
kinds of funny attitudes. 

9, — Mr. Nathaniel C. Fowler j: has achieved success in busi- 

* Between the Cubes ; or. Some of the Lessons of the Mosaics in the Ancient Christian Church^ 
in Rome^ By Mrs. Morgan-Morgan. Trastevere, Rome : St. Anthony's Press. 

t Dogtown, Being some chapters from the Annals of the Waddles Family, set down in tka 
language of house people. By Mabel Osgood Wright, author of Tommy Anne, The Friendship 
9f Nature, Birdcrafl, etc. Illustrated by Portraits from life by the Author. New York : The 
Macmillan Company. 

t The Boy, How to Help Him to Succeed, A Symposium of Successful Experiences. By 
Nathaniel C. Fowler, Jr., assisted by three hundred and nineteen American Men of marked 
ccomplishment. Boston : Oakwood Publishing Company, 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 697 

ness life, and has been in close touch with many other men 
who have secured eminent success in business life. In his 
book be not only tells the best way for a boy to climb the 
rungs of the ladder to the heights of prosperity, but he gets a 
brilliant galaxy of profit- makers to do likewise. There is much 
that is wise between the covers of this volume. If we were 
so inclined, we might find fault with his ideals. After all, the 
best thing in life is not to get money or to be a successful busi- 
ness man. Such books as Mr. Fowler's do contribute a good 
deal to the uplifting of life by bettering the desire for higher 
social conditions. Much of crime and immorality is due to 
poverty and straitened circumstances, but it is well to guard 
against the other extreme — that poverty is always vicious or 
that wealth is always virtuous. Many men are honored in the 
community because they are prosperous, but in the scales of 
divine justice the poor woman with tattered shawl that begs 
the crust of bread at the basement door of the prosperous 
merchant goes as precious metal, while the merchant's morality 
is that of counterfeit or of base alloy. Such advice as Mr. 
Fowler gives in '* How to help the boy to succeed " is sound 
and healthy. 

10. — Madame Lehmann achieved marvellous success on the 
operatic stage, and she did it largely by hard work and by dint 
of perseverance. She has given the fruit of her life's study in 
a volume * which will be of most practical benefit to aspiring 
singers. The art of singing, the use of the voice, the method 
of breathing, the manipulation of throat and teeth and lips, and 
the vocal organs that are brought into play to produce and 
color the tone and to form the various registers, — all these re- 
ceive adequate treatment from one who knows whereof she 
speaks. Added to her practical treatises there is an unusual 
wealth of illustration showing the practical workings of the 
vocal organs while in use. The treatises on " How to Sing " 
represent the results of the author's life endeavor, and there 
is infused into them much of her own personality as well as no 
end of incident and anecdote of her experiences. 

U. — Father Heuser's curiously constructed book f is, taken 

* How to Sin^. By Lilli Lehmann. Illustrated with portrait and diagrams. Translated 
by Richard Aldrich. New York : The Macmillan Company. 

t Tke Harmony of the Religious Life. By Herman J. Heuser. New York : Benziger 
Brothers. 

VOL. LXXVI.— 45 



698 Views and Reviews, [Feb. 

as a whole, a strong stimulus to practical piety. By the means 
of an elaborate allegory in which the soul is fancied as an 
organ, and all the varieties of religious experience some part or 
function thereof, he teaches many a clear and energetic lesson 
to religious, and especially to those religious whose vocation 
places them in the class* room. The book would serve excel- 
lently as a guide to examination of conscience; it would hard- 
ly do as a manual of the higher science of the interior life. 
The latter pages give principles and counsels in pedagogy, 
which we think the best part of the work. Undoubtedly it 
will guide and inspire many souls struggling to be faithful to 
their great consecration to God and to the young. 

12 — That incredibly productive maker of books, Mr. An- 
drew Lang, presents us with one proof more of his infinite 
reading and his dextrous versatility. James VI, and the Gow^ 
rie Mystery^ is the name of this volume — we dare not say his 
latest, for in the three months since its publication something in 
literature, a new fairy book, a Christmas legend, or a study in 
the philosophy of religion, has most probably been added to 
the works of " Merry Andrew " — and it deals with one of those 
mysteries of history about which the ordinary reader knows 
little, but specialists in curious research have written a great 
deal. In the year 1600 James VI. of Scotland called at the 
castle of Lord Gowrie and took luncheon. Before the king left 
the house his host and his host's brother were slain by the 
royal attendants. What was the cause and motive of the mur- 
der ? There lies the problem, and a very vexing one it has 
ever been. Mr. Lang's explanation is that Lord Gowrie and 
his brother had laid a trap for the undoing of James, and were 
the victims of their own device. He supports this view with 
acute interpretations of such evidence as we already possessed 
in the case, and with powerful arguments drawn from new 
sources which he now publishes for the first time. It is, all 
told, an interesting chapter in Scottish history, and never was 
it made so interesting as when touched with the magical pen 
of Lang. 

^ James VI. and the Gowrie Mystery. By Andrew Lang. New York: Longmans, Green 
& Co. 



+ + 

n n « Xibtans XTable* » » » 



The Month (Dec.) : Apropos of the completion of its hundredth 
volume, gives a sketch of the changes it has undergone 
since its first appearance in July, 1864, and mentions 
how some of Newman's early contributions were travestied 
by Punch, Fr. Tyrrell, continuing a paper on Mysteries, 
shows that the unseen world beyond the world of science 
cannot be known, even partially, except under the veil 
of mysteries, which are therefore necessary to progress, 
since it implies a straining after adjustment to the whole 
of things. James Britten, writing on Catholics and the 
Press, mentions the suspicions that obsess Protestant 
minds to the effect that the press is largely manned by 
Catholfcs and conducted in their interest; and shows the 
real state of affairs by citing instances to prove that 
Catholics have been refused the courtesy of the pages of 
representative papers in London, in which to correct 
calumnious statements made by anti-Catholics. 
(Jan.): Pubiishes some hitherto unpublished letters of 
Cardinal Newman to The Month concerning the proper 
character for a Catholic periodical. Fr. Thurston, apro- 
pos of the publication of M. Vignon's St, Linceul du 
Christy examines the historical evidence concerning the 
Holy Shroud, which M. Vignon touched upon very in- 
adequately. From his examination Fr. Thurston con- 
cludes that the shroud is not authentic but a forgery, 
and was believed to be only a representation of what 
the real shroud of our Saviour is supposed to have been. 
Fr. Pollen, writing on the Irish Insurrection of 1579, 
under Sir James Fitzmaurice Fitzgerald and Dr. Nicho- 
las Sander, says that whatever way we look at it, it 
"comes before us as a sad and calamitous blunder, com- 
menced without good purpose, carried out without suffi- 
cient skill or energy, foredoomed to ruin, and bringing 
with it a long, long series of disasters." 

The Critical Review (Nov., 1902): Contains a brief notice of 
Davidson's Evolution and its Bearing on Religions^ a work 
devoted to a review of the creeds of the past and the 



700 Library Table. [Feb., 

effect which the growth of scientific knowledge has had 
upon them. This effect, the author contends, has been 
to disclose their erroneous and unsubstantial character, 
to eliminate superstition and supernaturalism, and thus 
aid in a very great measure healthy intellectual activity 
and growth. The greater part of the work is devoted to 
a consideration of civilization from the fall of Rome to 
the time of Luther, and to a discussion of modern Chris- 
tianity. All churches are criticised adversely, especially 
the Catholic Church, whose history is styled a "sad 
satire on human intelligence." The author is convinced 
that every conception which man may form of his rela- 
tion to God, and every explanation of it which he may 
offer, will prove erroneous and in time will die. " God 
is inconceivable." Yet religion will live because "Her- 
bert Spencer's view will live for ever, as long, at least, 
as man is a tenant of this planet." 
The Monisi (Jan.) : Lucien Arreat has an experimental study ol 
religion in France. From inquiries addressed to people 
in various walks of life these conclusions are drawn : 
The Christians of France may be divided into four classes. 
The first includes the routine devotees, whose religion 
often borders on idolatry or fetichism. The second em- 
braces the enlightened believers, who observe their reli- 
gion in simplicity and honesty. To the third belong 
more intellectual church- folk, who think and reason 
much upon their faith. The fourth consists of the 
doubters, whose hold on Christianity is feeble and who 
seem always on the point of letting go completely. 
Taking all things together, it would be hazardous to 
affirm that the relig^ious sentiment is weakening ; and 
hazardous, on the other hand, to maintain that it is pre- 
serving its full vitality in society. There is a great deal 
of modification introduced by the more educated into 
the traditional dogmas, though the dogmas themselves be 
nominally professed in their ancient sense. The French 
Catholic's attitude toward God is one of profound and 
prostrate submission, in distinction to the Anglo-Saxon's 
attitude, which is one of easy freedom with the Deity, 
sometimes even almost equality. A grave danger, how- 
ever, both to society and religion, lies in the persistent 



1903.] Library Table. 701 

attempts of a certain school of philosophy in France to 
remove the divine sanctions and the Intrinsic holiness of 
morality. These attempts are an ominous sign of de- 
terioration and decay. 

International Journal of Ethics (Jan.) : Ira W. Howerth offers a 
new definition of religion which shall avoid both the 
limitations and the dangers of nearly all previous defini- 
tions. For we have had as yet no notion of religion 
which includes all the content of that most complex 
idea; and none which provides the religious activity 
with a foundation impregnable to the assaults of science. 
We have been defining religion as belief, as feeling, or 
as ethical action. No one of these is comprehensive 
enough, neither can any one of them withstand the con- 
clusions and discoveries of philosophy and psychology. 
The only definition that can be safely stated in this 
stage of human thought, must be one that will avoid 
any precise determinations as to a Supreme Being, as to 
the nature of the religious emotion, as to the function of 
the ethical sense. Something like the following must 
suffice us until the race has more light upon this ulti- 
mate mystery: Religion is the effective desire to be in 
right relations to the power manifesting itself in the uni- 
verse. This understanding of religion puts together the 
three elements of belief, feeling, and morality, and it is 
loose enough to admit without discomfiture all possible 
revelations of science. 

Revue du Clergi Frangais (i Dec): P. Vacandard writes that 
when a Catholic fails to be tolerant it is always through 
inconsistency, or better still, through lack of social edu- 
cation. Going on to speak of the church's idea of toler- 
ance, he writes : " The liberty of worships, abhorred by 
Pius IX. as hurtful to souls, is something more useful to 
the public good than constraint used to procure unity of 
belief; and then it becomes an obligation both for the 
church and for the state." P. Gayraud intimates that 
the articles of P. Durand, S.J., on Scripture lead to the 
following conclusions : Inspiration is compatible with in- 
accuracies of detail. Inspiration gives no better guaran- 
tee than that given by the acquired knowledge of the 
sacred writer. Possibly the Book of Genesis, composed 



702 Library Table. [Feb., 

of citations or resumes of documents older than Moses, 
possesses no divine guarantee of exactness and truth. 
The Second Book of Machabees has not, perhaps, a 
greater historical authority than that of Jason of Cyrene. 

Le Carrespondant (23 Nov.): Reviewing the history of the 
Kulturkampf, M. Ren^ LavoU^ concludes that it was the 
admirable loyalty of the German people and its leaders, 
as well as their thorough organization, which obliged 
Bismarck, after fifteen years' struggle, to take the road to 
Canossa. Apropos of the recently published life of the 
Princess Christine Trivulzio de Belgiojoso, who was so 
closely connected with the Italian revolution, Count 
Joseph Grabinski begins a sketch of her career. Le Hi^ 
vorce dans le roman et au thidtre is a rejoinder from 
M. Henry Bourdeaux to M. Paul Hervieux and the two 
MM. Marguerite, who are endeavoring to enlist the 
theatre in their campaign for the further extension of 
divorce. 

(10 Dec): Cardinal Mathieu, continuing his account of 
the Concordat of 1801, relates the circumstances under 
which, to avoid an imminent rupture. Cardinal Consalvi 
went to Paris to see Napoleon. In La Greve et Varbi^ 
trage M. L^on de Seilhac maintains that strikes have 
most usually resulted in favor of the workman. Some 
unpublished letters of Xavier de Maistre are edited and 
commented upon by P. Felix Klein. 

La Quinzaine (i Dec): Under the caption Comment Fairef 
an anonymous author, after reviewing the present es- 
trangement between the clergy and the people in France, 
recommends as a remedy a broader education of semi« 
narists and a more active interest on the part of the 
parochial clergy in the temporal well-being of their peo- 
ple. M. George Fonsegrive (Mariage Union Libre) at- 
tacks the arguments advanced by MM. Paul and Victor 
Marguerite in favor of allowing divorce on the persis- 
tent application of one of the parties without any other 
grounds being alleged. 

(16 Dec): M. Louis Arnould attempts to fix the place 
of Renan in the general evolution of the study of Chris- 
tian literature in France. In a second contribution the 
writer of Comment Faire? finds in the principles advo- 



1903.] Library Table. 703 

cated by Pope Leo XIII., in Rerum Novarutn^ the solu- 
tion of contemporary social troubles. On the occasion 
of the three hundredth anniversary of the establishment 
of the manufacture of Gobelins M. Dimier gives an in- 
teresting appreciation of the value of tapestry in art. 

Democratie Chritienne (Dec): This number gives a synopsis of 
the different courses in the social and political sciences 
offered during the last two years in the University of 
Lille. C. Calippe continues from the October number 
his very interesting record of the daily experiences of a 
priest who, with the approbation of his bishop, for the 
purpose of coming into closer contact with the working- 
men, is devoting part of each day to physical labor in a 
large manufacturing establishment. Chanoine Krekelberg 
presents a carefully prepared description of the associa- 
tion of German workingmen known as the *' Volksve- 
reine." He gives the plan of organization, the principles 
and aims of the society, and then shows the amount of 
work that it has actually accomplished. 

Revue Benedictine (Oct.): Dom Chapman, writing on St. Cypri- 
an's De Unitate Ecclesise, says that the interpolations in 
the original manuscripts were made after the author's 
death, as shown by a codex existing about the fourth 
century, which codex was used by Pope St. Gelasius, 
St. Damasus, and St. Optatus. St. Cyprian taught that 
to be a member of the true church it was necessary to 
be in communion with the Roman See, but on account 
of the Novatian schism then existing, Cyprian's writings 
are in some points vague, and this occasions passages 
which Puller and Benson interpret as teaching that to be 
in the true church it was necessary only to be in com- 
munion with some see, ' not particularly that of Rome. 

Rivista Intemazionale (Oct.) : E. Vercesi gives a sketch of the 
English Catholic Truth Society. 

(Dec.) : Prof Toniolo describes the origin and purpose 
of the International Union of Social Studies in Freiburg. , 

Rassegna Nazionale (i Dec): G. Parravicino, discussing the 
mezzadria (a Tuscan usage of dividing profits between 
capitalist and laborer), says that it suggests a way of 
solving all industrial difficulties ; and he finds it very 
significant that the chief organ of socialism in Italy, the 



704 Library Table. [Feb. 

Avanti^ rejects this plan for the sake of maintaining a 
policy of opposition between capital and labor. L. 
Ferriani writes upon the unintelligent and ruinous habit 
of training children by a mere alternation of chocolates 
and whippings — far too prevalent among parents pre- 
sumably sensible. E. S. Kingswan writes in praise of 
Kraus' sketch of Cavour, which, having had great success 
in German, has been translated into Italian. The same 
writer sketches Mgr. Seton's history of his own family 
lately published in this country. • 

(i6 Dec): E. di Parravicino, after praising Mr. Roosevelt 
for his share in the establishing of the International 
Board of Arbitration, describes the history of the Pious 
Fund case, and speaks of Archbishop Riordan in glow- 
ing terms. 

Civilta Cattolica (20 Dec): Speaks with praise of LArt et 
VAutel^ a magazine of Abbon, France, devoted to the 
diffusion of just views on Christian and ecclesiastical art, 
and which has now completed two years of useful exist- 
tence. 

Razon y Fe (Jan.): P. Murillo, continuing to discuss the decadence 
of the Latin races, considers the intellectual history of 
Europe in the years succeeding the Reformation. The 
first steps in the physics, mathematical sciences, and the 
first investigations and grand discoveries of modern 
Europe, all took place in the southern countries, or are 
due to savants who professed the* Catholic religion. 
Leonardo da Vinci, Colon, Benedetti, Galileo, Descartes, 
Pascal, Torricelli, Mariotte, Volta, Galvani, were neither 
Anglo-Saxons nor Protestants; and Gutenberg and 
Copernicus were Catholics. Father Young's Catholic and 
Protestant Countries Compared is cited in evidence. P. 
Villada gives the resume of a book recently published by 
the Bishop of Adrianopolis on the teachings of the 
church with regard to liberalism, — defining what liberalism 
means, showing what are its principal errors, and present- 
ing its absolute and irrevocable condemnation '' in various 
documents of infallible authority, among which must be 
mentioned the Syllabus." 






4 Comment on Current XTopics. 4 

M4 — »(4 



It has been frequently said that in this 
Political Attitude country the safety of the church lies in 

of Catholics. having Catholics evenly divided between the 

great political parties. Up to this moment 
in our political history there is no good reason why a Catholic 
as such should be identified with one party more than with 
another. It is a good thing to know that a Catholic is equally 
at home in the councils of either party. 

While our profound sympathy goes out to the persecuted 
congregations in France, still in their sad plight there is a 
practical lesson for the Catholics in the United States. The 
French Catholics as a body ranged themselves with the monarchy. 
There were undoubtedly very many circumstances that conspired 
to bring about this peculiar political attitude. Not the least 
of these circumstances are the traditional conservatism of Catho- 
lic peoples, their adherence to rooted institutions, and their 
suspicions of the new and the untried, especially when it points 
to such progenitors as had the Republic in France. Another 
reason may be found in the attitude of the Republic towards 
the church; to say the least, it was not friendly. But in spite 
of it all, it would have been wisdom on the part of the 
French Catholics to have accepted loyally the existing govern- 
ment. The Holy Father, with a far-seeing wisdom that has 
characterized his administration, has over and over again urged 
the French Catholics to accept the Republic. But in spite of 
his admonitions and exhortations, they continued to be mon- 
archists to a very great extent, and in this fact lay one great 
reason why they are persecuted by the Republic to-day. It 
.may readily be seen that if the French Religious Orders as a 
body had become earnest supporters of the present regime in- 
stead of crowding it into the position of extreme antagonism to 
the church, there would have been awakened a friendliness 
towards things Catholic. If the masses of the French people, 
who are still at heart loyal to the church, had thrown the 
weight of their influence in favor of the Republic, the govern- 
ment would have been eager to please them and the edge of 
opposition would have been turned. What has been said of 
the condition of Catholics in France in a similar sense may be 



7o6 Comment on Current Topics. [Feb., 

said of the best Catholic energies in the Philippines. They 
were utilized in behalf of the Spanish domination, and when 
Spain went down they went down with her. 

The Catholic Church is above all parties, and it should not 
be made the tail to any party's kite. In order to hold this 
even balance in this country it is the greatest wisdom to divide 
the Catholic forces between the great political parties, and at 
the same time not so to attach them to either that in any 
emergency they may be closely identified with any party. 

The last yearly report of the St. Vincent 
TheWorkolOatho-de Paul Society of Brooklyn is an extra- 

ordinary evidence of Catholic charitable 
work, and its recognition by the daily papers another evi- 
dence of the public interest which is being shown in the labors 
and methods of this society. During the past year this society has 
assisted and visited some 3,000 families, comprising almost 
15,000 people. In all 34,000 visits were made and some 
$5 5,000 distributed. The public institutions for the poor, the 
prisons and hospitals, have been visited every Sunday. The 
Ozanam Home has sheltered and provided for the welfare of 
some eight hundred women. A central office that will direct 
and systematize the general work of the society has been 
established. 

We point out these facts that the work of the St. Vincent 
de Paul Society may be known more jvidely and its methods 
studied. The great result of this success is that work is un- 
dertaken in the most voluntary spirit of religious charity. Their 
extended and constant labors are more than a sufficient answer 
to the shallow argument, at times so speciously advanced, that 
religion regards man's welfare only in the world to come and 
allows him to suffer in this. 

And meanwhile also we extend a word of congratulation to 
the St. Vincent de Paul Society of Brooklyn, and to its presi- 
dent, Commissioner Thomas W. Hynes, for their many suc- 
cessful labors in the cause of Catholic charity. 

There does not appear to be any grow- 

Twanty-flve Years j^ sentiment in favor of Woman's Suf- 
of Woman's 

Suffrage. frage after a generation of free discussion. 

Many conservative publicists have expressed 



1903] Comment on Current Topics. 707 

a desire to give women the power to vote, but only when 
questions affecting the home were at stake, believing that wo- 
man's unerring instinct for right would be a heavy makeweight 
against man's subserviency to party affiliation, and a number of 
strong-minded women have worked unceasingly to secure the 
right to vote on the grounds that armed with the ballot woman 
would be better able to protect herself in the race of life ; but 
the agitation seems to be losing its momentum. 

It has come to be a demonstrated fact that women do not 
want the right to vote. Outside the small coterie of agitators 
the rank and file of the women have never betrayed a burning 
desire to rush to the polls. When the Kelsey Bill was enacted 
by the New York Legislature, giving women taxpayers the 
right to vote on questions of appropriations at special elections, 
only a very small proportion of the women availed themselves 
of the privilege. The Woman Suffrage Amendment was de- 
feated in Massachusetts by a vote of 137 to 47. In the Con- 
necticut Constitutional Convention there were but three votes in 
favor of giving the suffragists a hearing on a Woman's Suffrage 
Amendment. In Iowa, where the great battle was fought, the 
waning power of the suffragists is indicated by the following 
figures: in 1898 the Legislature voted 49 to 47 against a 
Woman's Suffrage movement; in 1900 it voted 55 to 43, and in 
1902 when the roll was called the vote stood 51 to 38. In 
New York State there is an organization forceful in numbers, but 
more particularly forceful in the character of its membership, 
which has for its avowed purpose the making of a persistent 
protest against laying on woman's shoulders the burden of the 
ballot. In the face of this dignified protest men will not be 
overeager to impose on woman a privilege which she prefers 
not to possess. 

The best sentiment nowadays is in favor of solidifying the 
family as the unit of society. Husband and wife make one • 
before the world. The right of voting in the hand of woman 
is a wedge to pry asunder what God has joined together. 

The article on '' Catholic Citizens and Public 

Catholic CitizenB Education" in the January issue has been 
and Public 

Bduoatlon. ^"*^^ ^ revelation to the many who are in- 
terested in educational matters that it is 
now affirmed by some who have not been heretofore sympa- 



7o8 Comment on Current Topics. [Feb., 

thetic with the Parish-School system that this branch of eda- 
cational work is no longer ''a negligible quantity." The frank 
as well as authoritative statement of our position, that we ask 
no subvention for religious teaching, has cleared the atmosphere 
of a good deal of misunderstanding, and has taken from many 
opponents the vital reason for their antagonism, and the facts 
that there are neariy five million dollars of capital invested, 
and that we are educating 41,149 children at an annual cost of 
$344,284.60 in our Parish Schools in New York alone, is a 
manifestation of our sincerity of purpose. Heretofore the policy 
followed in official reports has been to ig^nore, but the publica- 
tion of these figures will bring about official recognition. 

There are many other reasons besides the mere magnitude 
of the Parish-School system that will make official recog^nition 
the best policy. Not the least of these is the fact that when 
educators come to study our Parish Schools they will find that 
if there be any side on which they are weak it is the patriotic 
side. We have been compelled for the sake of conscience to 
educate our children outside of the channels where the highest 
patriotism is largely taught. Yet Catholics do love their 
country and are eager to absorb all that is best in its national 
life. It is a crime against the nation for the ultra-American 
to steel his face against the children of the nationalities who 
do not speak English, and compel them to seek their education 
outside those agencies that will accelerate his absorption by 
and his assimilation with the civic body. How much better it 
would be to come to them with the olive branch and say to 
them: ''You are children of this commonwealth, and it is our 
desire that you shall enjoy all that contributes to good citizen- 
ship. For this reason we shall make some arrangement where- 
by you may participate in the advantages that the Public- 
School system enjoys." 

The strongest claim that is made for the Public-School 
system is that it is a great hopper into which all nationalities 
are thrown and there comes forth the American citizen. To 
get these results now the Parish School must be reckoned with. 

The article referred to has been published in pamphlet form, 
and an edition of fifty thousand has been printed, and not only 
are pastors distributing these pamphlets among their people, 
but the various Catholic fraternal societies are taking up the 
matter and are likewise disseminating the pamphlet. 



1903] Comment on Current Topics. 709 

The most important and suggestive fact just 

The English ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ those who are interested in the 
Lioensing Aot. liquor question, and we might say with equal 

truth for all who are interested in the cause 
of good public morality, is the new .Licensing Act of England 
which went into operation on January i of this year. It is a 
novel and decidedly drastic step on the part of the government 
to put a stop to the evil of intemperance. The law affects 
principally the habitual drunkard. In its eyes an habitual 
drunkard is one who may be convicted of drunkenness three 
times within a year. The law is also retroactive. Until the 
passage of this law the police could not arrest a man or woman, 
thoroughly drunk though they might be, unless he was also 
disorderly. Under this new law any one found drunk in any 
public place may be arrested, prosecuted, and punished. 

The law also looks to the welfare of the child. Any one found 
drunk while in charge of a child is liable to a fine of two pounds 
or a month's imprisonment. The law also lays its strong hand 
upon the bogus clubs that heretofore, by payment of a small 
fine, evaded the payment of license. Now not only is there a 
fine but also imprisonment, and the clubs are breaking up. 

Perhaps the most novel and best feature of the Act is that 
the habitual drunkard is blacklisted, his photograph taken, and 
a copy sent to all license- holders of the district. Any publi- 
can serving that man with drink during the next three years is 
liable to a heavy fine. 

The consumption of alcoholic drinks had been greatly on the 
increase, particularly among the upper classes, in Great Britain 
during recent years. The present law is a happy and emphatic 
evidence that public sentiment is being aroused to a sense of 
the danger of intemperance, and that effective means ought to 
be taken to check it. The law is very searching indeed in its 
efforts to be effective. As we have said, all lovers of the cause 
of temperance will watch its working with keen anxiety, and 
we have no doubt that in England, where there is such a 
respect for the law, it will be rigidly enforced. Let us hope, 
also, that it will go a long way towards solving the question 
that most practically affects society to-day — that is, the liquor 
question. 



710 The Columbian reading union. [Feb., 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

THE Church Times^ a non-Catholic paper in England representing the High- 
Church party in the Established Church, has a trenchant editorial on the 
subject of Clericalism, With a skilful pen it lays bare the weakness of the 
Nonconformists. It is good reading for some of our brethren of the Evangeli- 
cal churches in this country. It is as follows : 

One feature of the anti-church agitation against the Education Bill has 
been a ferocious attack upon Clericalism. Mr. Perks, who is a well-known 
member of a communion which is legally governed by a conclave of ministers, 
solemnly declared the other day that ''wherever the hand of clericalism was 
found gripping the life of a nation there would be found commercial retrogres- 
sion and moral stag^nation." It is a fine, rolling sentence. It is, nevertheless, 
a very ordinary sentence. It expresses a rough synthesis of views which seem 
to be widespread, and which are as lacking in truthfulness as they are in 
thoughtfulness. To begin with, it is a novel view of religion to urge that com- 
mercial progress is one of its aims. We have heard of a kingdom which is not 
of this world : we have heard of One who had not where to lay His head. We 
can readily believe it possible that a country might produce men who followed 
the Saviour closely, and yet fail to produce a millionnaire, or a Black Country, 
or a Spitalfields. Commercial progress is not quite all that Mr. Perks and 
those who think with him seem to regard it. There is a readiness in advanced 
commercial countries to put everything in the market of salable things, from 
the chastity of women to the honor of politicians. If the present commercial 
success of England is all that English religion can boast of, there is something 
to be said for Belgium and French Canada ; and if moral stagnation is to be 
sought, it may be found nearer home than the three countries we have men- 
tioned. 

Now, for ourselves, we have no regard for Clericalism — that is, for the 
Clericalism of the popular imagination. The insidious power of the priest 
over the layman's body and soul ; the intriguing of the cleric in politics ; the 
thirst for legacies and endowments which, i|i turn, tempts the priest to acts 
which are morally indefensible, — these mediaeval bogies do not seem to us 
to be possible to-day ; but if they were possible, we should be the first to resent 
them. The very existence of the Church Times is a protest against Clerical- 
ism. We express our own views, and our readers need not be assured that we 
do not consult the Bench of Bishops on each occasion. In fact the opponents 
of the bill at one time attack Clericalism and at another time attack the 
Church Times, The positions are flatly contradictory. The Clericalism 
of which certain worthy Englishmen are so much in terror at the present time 
is quite incompatible with a brisk and fearless church journalism, keenly alive to 
the defects of the church, and ready to point out and to condemn any irregu- 
larity. We hesitate to say that our columns, open as they always are to intel- 
^ent contributions, are in themselves an absolute safeguard against dominant 



1903] The Columbian Reading Union, 711 

Clericalism, but we do say that the freedom of expression of opinion which 
characterizes this age renders quite ludicrous any fear of a dominant Cleri- 
calism. 

There is, however, something more to be said. Nowadays, the theory 
seems to be that every man is his own theologian. If he wishes a gas*pipe 
mended he sends for a plumber ; if he be sick bodily he sends for a medical 
man ; for legal advice he consults a lawyer. He is not afraid of the dominion 
of the plumber, the doctor, or the lawyer. He regards them as specialists, who 
know all that he can never know on a certain subject affecting human life In 
addition to this, in particular cases he specializes in more detail ; for he employs, 
say, an electric light engineer, an aurist, a chancery lawyer. He knows his 
own ignorance of subjects which it takes specialists a life-time to grasp. But 
he does not know nor comprehend his ignorance of theology. Indeed, he re- 
gards himself as competent to judge all theological questions for himself. 
Where St. Augustine defined tremblingly, he puts all into a rough-and-ready 
sentence ; Hooker's deliberate phraseology he throws aside and issues ex-cathe- 
dra pronouncements of his own. When he is told that his knowledge is insuf- 
ficient he cries Clericalism, and is not averse to hiding his ignorance be- 
hind a vague fear that the commercial prosperity of his race will be endangered 
by trusting to the intimate knowledge of specialists. 

The most valuable portion of a recent work by Bishop Welldon — who is 
certainly not a Clericalist — on the Revelation of the Holy Spirit, is a 
defence of the authority of specialists in theology. The bishop shows most 
clearly that there must be a body of learning to which the outer world may 
appeal ; to which, indeed, the outer world must necessarily appeal. It is not at 
all necessary that a dominant mastery over the minds of men shall be given to 
the body of authority, nor to the individuals which comprise that body. Such 
a theory is, as we have already described it, a bo^y. But it is necessary 
that those who regard the church as a church should also believe that she is 
the holder, in her corporate capacity, of vital truth. Herein lies the blunder 
of those who are so hysterical on the subject of Clericalism. What we 
claim for the church, they claim for individuals, or at least they ascribe to us 
that we claim for individuals. Curiously enough, an instance of revolt against 
individual domination is ready to hand. The Archbishop of Canterbury has 
recently expressed an opinion as to certain ritual usages. Because the 
clergy do not accept that opinion as law, the opponents of Clericalism raise 
the cry of disloyalty, overlooking the central fact that those same clergy who 
demand, not the opinion of Dr. Temple but the decision of the church, are 
fighting the real battle against Clericalism. It is our opponents, not our- 
selves, who entertain exaggerated notions respecting episcopal jurisdiction. 
They, not we, believe in his personal authority. They, not we, believe in 
Clericalism. We believe in the church, voicing her will through channels 
authoritatively recognized, and arriving at her opinion through the proper 
courts. The individual speaks with his own authority only, whether bishop or 
priest or layman. 

We might carry this line of thought even further. What could be more 
clerical than the Wesleyan Legal Hundred? Who could be more domi- 
nant than Dr. Clifford ? What could be more inquisitorial than the Congrega- 
tional system, with its secret inquiries into the fitness of would-be members. 



712 THE Columbian reading Union. [Feb., 1903.] 

What could be more insolently dogmatic than the Evangelical preacher, so- 
called, who knows not only all theology, but can proscribe the bounds of eter- 
nal bliss or eternal woe for each of all his hearers ? It is true that there is a 
Clericalism which enchains, which narrows liberty, which claims domina- 
tion, which hurls anathema, which despitefuUy uses others. We know where 
this Clericalism is to be found nowadays. It is on political platforms up 
and down the country. It manifests itself often through the utterances of such 
politicians as Mr. Perks. It seeks to use the arm of the state — as did the In- 
quisition before it — to enforce its own views,' and all, forsooth, in the name of 
liberty ! But we are mistaken if the English people have not had enough of 
the Clericalism of the Cromwellian era. The modern Cromwellians, who 
are not, after all, averse to the Cromwellian methods, may bluster and fiercely 
declaim, but the common-sense of England is against them and against the 
Clericalism which they represent. 



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rHB MOST RKCBSr PAINTING OP THK HOLY FaTHKI 

Madamr I, a Marqcjisb Chcile db Wbntworti 
Naw York. 




1878. liUMBN IN (9OBLO. 1903. 

I. 

HE night is dark, abysmal dark ; 

The tempest shrieks o*er writhing sea, 
The billows 'whelm our struggling bark: 
What hope of safety may there be ? 

II. 

The whistling winds dash high the spray, 
That shrouds our crew in misty death ; 

The great deep yawns to seize its prey. 
And hope and life hang on a breath. 

III. 

" O Pilot ! tell, is there no light 

On earth or in the sky 
To help us steer our course aright. 

Or shelter find till storm roll by?" 

IV. 

Just as their hearts sink in despair 

A gleam of light shoots high and wide, 

Then sinks, and thus, with fitful glare, 
It gleams and fades on every side. 

V. 

'Mid tempest's blasts a voice rings out: 
** Of treacherous lights, beware ! beware ! 

False science feeds their flame with doubt, 
Then shun as death the fatal snare: 

VI. 

*'And trust that He whose * Fiat Lux' 
From ancient chaos morning drew, 

That wonder writ in sacred books 
But bides His time to work anew. 

VII. 

*' The light from Peter's Rock is faint 
And drifting clouds its glimmer veil, 

But trust none other, though it paint 

With dawn's own hues our struggling sail." 



Lumen in Ccelo. 
VIII. 

With strengthened soul the storm- tossed pray : 
** O God, our God ! behold our plight ; 

On this deep gloom shed but one ray: 
O Saviour Christ! give light, give light. 

IX. 

** The Bride of Christ still lives, we know. 

Though Peter's rights are but a span, 
The light- house on the Rock will glow, 

If for the place Thou send the man." 

X. 

From out the gloom of narrowed skies 
The Father's voice sounds loud and clear: 

" Lumen in CoeJo soon shall rise, 
Mine hour of mercy draweth near. 

XI. 

" Ye weak of faith, behold afar 
The radiant promise of fair days. 

My Leo riseth as a star 

To rule the depths and guide your ways." 

XII. 

4 

The light-house on the Rock once more 
Sends steady beam throughout the world; 

The darkness of the storm is o'er. 
And Satan from his throne is hurled. 



^11% 




T. •■ ' 



An actual Photograph op thh Holv Father- 

Snid lo be Mic only one taken during hi; Pontificale. 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



Vol. LXXVI. MARCH, 1903. No. 456. 



THE GREAT WHITE SHEPHERD OF CHRISTENDOM. 



^ VT \"^^ '^z "\»y> 



:^ w iiy 



'li 



:.-iiJ 



the third of March of this year the whole 
Catholic world will celebrate one of the most 
glorious dates in the history of the Catholic 
Church. On that day Leo XIII. will complete, 
as second in the long series of Roman Pontiffs 
of nineteen centuries, the 25th year of his glorious Pontificate. 
We might use the word "world" without limitation whatso- 
ever; for if there be one fact more remarkable than any other 
connected with Leo the Thirteenth's reign and character, it is 
the universal respect and admiration in which he is held. Dur- 
ing the twenty- five years that he has sat upon the throne of 
Peter there is not a serious thinker, a religious man, a social 
reformer, an earnest student, a ruler of peoples who has not, 
either in body or in spirit, made pilgrimage to bis throne. 

The passing of the twenty-five years of his Pontificate is a 
special cause of great rejoicing to us Catholics — a^ would be 
the extended life of a father upon earth to his children. 
But we also claim the privilege of paying our tribute to him as 
Americans. Time and again has Leo repeated that America 
had a special abiding place of love in his heart. Only last 
year did he take occasion to congratulate America on its loy- 
alty: "Most particularly do we praise you for the earnestness 
with which you have cultivated in the past, and do now culti- 
vate, your union with this chief Church and the Vicar of Christ 
on earth. We have gladly seized every suitable occasion to 
bear witness to our constant solicitude for you and the welfare 
of religion among you, and our daily experience compels us to 
make known that we have ever found your minds and hearts 
filled with docility, good will, and all desirable responsiveness." 

Thk Missionary Socibty of St. Paul thb Apostlb in thb Statb 

oy Nbw York, 1900. 

VOL. LXXVI. — 46 



714 THE Great White Shepherd. [Man, 

His word has gone forth to champion our republicanism in 
government, and to look upon it as a political condition most 
favorable to the advancement and growth of our church: 
"•Hence it is that while the attitude and temper of nearly all 
the old-time Catholic nations cause us grief, your churches, 
with their first bloom and glow of youth, do delight our heart 
and fill it with an intimate joy. There is, it is true, no favor 
from the civil constitution and government ; but the rulers of 
the commonwealth are rightly to be praised, since in nowise do 
they interfere with your just liberty." . 

The untiring zeal and abundant love, with which he worked 
for and desired the reunion of Christendom have caused him 
time and again to turn to America, where he sees the ripeness 
of the harvest and spurs on the laborers: 

*' We are not ignorant of the zeal with which every one of 
you, venerable brethren, labor for the establishment and per- 
fection of schools and colleges for the correct formation of 
youth. So too your solicitude for ecclesiastical seminaries - con- 
tributes to the increase of the clergy both in number' and 
worthiness. What more can we add ? You have exhibited a 
wise zeal in setting apart learned and reliable clergymen for 
the purpose of instructing those who differ from us and draw- 
ing them to the knowledge of the truth. These clergymen go 
fVom place to place; both in chutches and in other buildings 
they make public addresses in the language of familiar conver- 
sation, and refute whatever objections are placed before them. 
This is an excellent institution, and we know that you have 
iiready profited much by it." 

But beyond these expressions of our reverence and our joy 
at this exceptional time — expressions that bring no news to 
Leo's ears, but only the again repeated outpourings of loving 
hearts — we wish to record the extraordinary manner in which 
Leo has met the wants and gained the sympathy of the entire 
world. 

When he ascended the throne there were not wanting those 
who, Cassandra-like, foretold the speedy downfall — or the decay, 
at least — of the Catholic Church of the ages. To the mind 
who gauges things without the measure of the ever-present 
pivine Spirit, such signs were not wanting. . The church was 
persecuted by many nations, and her children were calling 
catastrophes upon themselves by opposing their governments ; 



I903-] The Great White SHEPfiERD. 715 

much of the intellectual world of science, of bistqry, of scrip-t 
tural study was. against her ; men were dete^minsQd ^ to throw 
off the '' intellectual shackles " of papal infallibility, an4 give 
liberty to reason; social unrest — graye problems of the masses 
— were looming up like dread spectres that threatened to spread 
the plague of anarchy over Europe. And within the phurch 
there were not wanting dangers both from those who would 
narrow her power of activity and shut her up in the repellant 
armor of conservatism, restraining the apostolic office to the 
teaching of a Sunday-school class, and from those who would 
have her sacrifice her divinely given truth, and thus welcome 
suicide. 

Leo handled the problems before him with the skill pf a 
Hildebrand, and his continued years have but given additional 
evidence of his power and ability as an interpreter of events 
and a ruler of hearts. 

He has, first of all, shown that the Church of Christ is in- 
dependent of human government or human forms of govern- 
ment. Its welfare is not necessarily one with either monarch- 
ism or republicanism. Leo XIII. has been foreign to no coun- 
try, and has been the friend and supporter of every legitimate 
form of government But he has gone further, and positively 
advised those who opposed their legal government at home to 
support it heart and soul, and make it work for the welfare of 
the church. 

He has championed the rights of the state; and fearlessly 
against the same state has he stood for the rights of the indi- 
vidual and of the people. 

Liberty and authority, one impossible without the otheri 
in perfect sympathy are to work out the perfection of the in- 
dividual and of the nation. 

Leo XIII. has done a greater work still. He has proved to 
the world, which obstinately refused to believe it, that Catho- 
licity is an intellectual religion; not alone intellectual, but that 
the speculative reason, dwelling upon the positive, revealed 
truths, may find more than ample exercise for every one of its 
powers. Science has prospered under his encouragement, but 
he has always shown that science — restricted to the material 
and the sensible — is but a narrowing of the scope of human 
reason and a debasing of the soul. 

As the basis of CathnliV ohilosophy he has plftce^ ; St 



7i6 The Great White Shepherd. [Mar.^ 

Thomas. Always a favorite student of the Angelic Doctor, this 
was one of the first acts of his Pontificate. Had he reigned 
but a few years, it would probably have been overthrown after 
he passed away ; but he has lived long enough to see that it is 
taught in all colleges, and that the generation to-day and the 
generation • to come are and will be fundamentally Thomists, 
re-echoing the philosophy of Aristotle — linking the human with 
the divine, combining reason with revelation, and again creating 
that synthesis which makes for harmony and perfection. 

Again, in Scriptural study, which was causing havoc with- 
out the church and uneasiness within, which has not yet been 
altogether arrested, Leo recog^nized the gravity of the questions 
which modern Biblical study presents; the legitimate side to 
higher criticism ; encouraged Catholics to keep abreast of modern 
science and scholarship ; and yet he stands to-day as the re- 
presentative of the church that alone champions the Divine 
authorship and inspiration of the entire Scripture. 

Likewise in history: Leo threw open the archives of the 
Vatican, welcomed investigators and students : and encouraged 
all his subjects to write [history that is history ; " make the 
Popes known " was his brief but emphatic remark lately to 
the English historian. 

In the matter that is perhaps most practical for us all, and 
for the whole world just now, in the social problems of labor 
and of capital Leo has stood particularly as a most prominent, 
heroic figure, with kindness and love in his eyes for all, with 
words of wisdom on his lips, warning the rich and the power- 
ful that '' he who deprives a laborer of his just wages commits 
a sin that cries to Heaven for vengeance " ; warning the 
laborer, again, not to preach anarchy nor to rob his employers ; 
with prudence, with a sagacity that has won for him the ad- 
miration of all, giving to the world the solution of the problem 
that vexes it most and is big now with evil portent for the 
future. So by becoming all things to all men Leo would draw 
all to Christ. His appeal has gone forth to the world calling 
the nations to Christ. And let us trust that his years to come 
may continue to be crowned with that which has been the 
greatest glory of his years past — that he has made known to 
the world Christ and His Gospel, and through his own person, 
in a secondary way, led thousands to accept and to follow both. 

The following is a timely memorial written by the Rev. 



.1903.] The Great White Shepherd. 717 

Henry E. O'Keeffe, C.S.P., on the words which Leo spoke to 
him during a late visit to the Vatican: 

my remembrance of the pope's two words — "courage, 

courage!" 

I. 

Out from the American Republic should go a thousand thanks 
to Leo the Thirteenth. He has pointed out to us the nature 
and the number of those in Europe who do not understand us. 
Amid the noise and smoke of human strife, he has clarified the 
intellectual atmosphere for us. He has forced us to. make our 
distinctions more defined, to quell the fears of those who 
suspect us of impugning the known truth. He has compelled 
us to construct our terminology according to the minds of the 
thinkers of the old world, so that they will see that we are not 
innovators of doctrine. 

" Amen, amen I say to you, unless the grain of wheat fall- 
ing into the ground, die ; itself remaineth alone. But if it die, it 
bringeth forth much fruit." 

It is Rome's divine, historic destiny to centralize wayward 
social forces, to conserve conflicting germs of life, to direct un- 
toward currents of thought, and even to bury the seed of truth 
that it may develop and be rendered intelligible by the bloom 
and the fruit of its doctrine. 

IL 

It may be that the subtlety of the French language alone 
can express the thought that there are triumphant defeats which 
•even victory herself might be jealous of. This has been^ more 
-pr less, the history of the relationship of prophet, saint, and 
genius to the See of Christendom. Who has a fuller right than 
the servant of servants to place the burning coal upon the 
prophet's tongue and crown the forehead of the anointed with 
th^ fillet of divine misfortune ? To the philosopher of history, 
aided only by the light of reason, such episodes seem like the 
quenching of the torches of truth and the shackling of the 
liberties of the leaders of men. Yet the confusioq of history 
cannot even be partially adjusted unless we measure it by this 
norm of Providence. Moods of impatience that are often con- 
genital with rare intellectual power, have provoked intimacies 
of tragic pathos because of the self-possession of the Throne of 
the Fisherman. 



7i8 The Great White Shepherd. [Man, 

III. 

I saw the Pope twice — once intimately. I was presented to 
him as a Paulist, and at the word ''Paolista" he brightened 
his dark eyes and said : " Indeed I have heard of the work of 
your community in that great Republic of the West, and 
especially do I remember reports of your efforts, through 
preaching and the printed word — per prcedicationem et typo^ 
graphiam — ^to reach those who are not of the household of the 
faith." Then drawing himself up as if his spirit looked across 
the world, he pronounced the text: "Behold I say to you, 
lift up your eyes and see the countries, for they are white 
already to harvest." Then he bade me bestow the apostolic 
benediction on my brethren and to all those who helped them 
in their special vocation. Then, taking me to himself, he 
pressed his cheek to mine (as a father might to a child), 
uttering at the same time the gracious words : " Son, be not 
of little faith." Then he dismissed me with the Italian word, 
** Corraggio " — spoken twice and with some intensity. 

IV. 

We may be swayed at times by the impulse of sentiment 
or of imagination, but as I went out from the gates of the 
Vatican, I felt how men's hearts could be led captive by the 
Church of our fathers — the holy Church of Rome. Because it 
is the mother of liberty in authority, the hour is past and 
there is no longer any place to incite a Babel of contradicting 
voices. There is no need to prove in how much we agree 
and how in nothing we differ. It is for others to say, that our 
differences may be along the lines of method and of manner. 
It is the divine instinct of all the faithful citizens, in the 
universal commonwealth of Christendom, to guard jealously th6 
•constitution — the treasure-house of the essentials. 

" Now there were certain Gentiles among them, who camfe 
up to adore on the festival day. These, therefore, came t6 
Philip, who was of Bethsaida of Galilee, and desired him, say- 
ing : Sir, we would see Jesus. Philip cometh ' and telleth 
Andrew. Again, Andrew and Philip told Jesus. But Jesus 
answered them saying: The hour is come that the Son of 
Man should be glorified. 

" Amen, amen I say to you, unless the grain of wheat falling 



1903.] The Great White Shepherd. 71.9 

into the ground, die; itself remaineth alone. But if it die, it 
bringeth forth much fruit." 

Dr. William J. Kerby, who was given his degree of Doctor 
of Philosophy at the University of Louvain, for some years past 
has occupied the chair of Sociology at the Catholic University 
of America. He needs no recommendation as an authority in 
questions sociological. The following is his tribute on the 
occasion of Leo's Jubilee: 

LEO XIII. AND SOCIAL STUDIES. 

The influence of Leo XIII. in the sphere of the social 
movement and social studies has been manifold. 

Personally he has met, welcomed, encouraged, and rewarded 
Catholic leaders who devoted energy and talent to social 
reform. Pilgrimages and delegations of laboring men have had 
as easy access to the Vatican as princes. This sympathy, 
interest, and encouragement placed a high and — to Catholics — 
holy premium on practical social reform effort 

Officially, Leo XIII. has taught a harmonious Christian 
social philosophy in recorded conversations, allocutions, and 
letters — which philosophy meets the problems of modern life 
directly and, one may say, adequately. The culmination of 
Leo's teaching is found in Return Novarum, the " Magna 
Charta of laborers." In it is synopsized, confirmed, and taught, 
as in a code, the Catholic reform thought that had become 
vital in Germany, Switzerland, France, and Austria, as well as 
his own personal convictions. All in Catholic thought and 
action before the encyclical leads to it ; all subsequent, proceeds 
from it. The great activity in thought and organization for the 
past twelve years may justly be called the fruit of that encyc- 
lical. 

Leo XIII., by thus endorsing and affirming social reform 
thought and action, adjuisted in anticipation the thought and 
temper of the church's intellect and organisation to the needs 
of modern life. He cared for the adjustment, in fact, by 
encouraging the study of social sciences in our seminaries and 
universities. His approval has given to such studies the dignity 
and strength that our traditions might have led us to refuse. 

Leo's influence on the social — ^-'•"*" on social philosophy 

and social studies, has already h in clo^e touch 



720 THE Great White Shepherd. [Man, 

with the next half century. When th« wisest and best in 
modern nations shall have reached a satisfying readjustment of 
thought and life, the principles of that adjustment will not be 
unlike those elaborated in the teaching of our Holy Father. The 
nations may recoil from his leadership ; they shall yet accept 
his teaching or fail to meet the problem of our civilization. 

The Honorable Carroll D. Wright, who has occupied the 
responsible position of United States Commissioner of Labor 
under different political administrations, has written to The 
Catholic World Magazine his regrets that, owing to the 
pressure of other work, he could not write a long appreciation, 
as he would be glad to do, but states: 

"I think the encyclical of Leo XHI. on the labor question 
gives the foundation for social science in this century. It is a 
vade mecum with me, and I know that it has had an immense 
influence in steadying the public mind/' 

Mr. John Mitchell, the President of the United Mine Workers 
of America, also writes: 

'' It gives me much pleasure to join in paying my humble 
tribute to His Holiness Leo XIII., whose broad-minded, liberal 
views have won for him the respect of all classes of society, 
regardless of their religious beliefs." 

A further evidence of that respect in which the Holy Father 
is held throughout the world is given in a circular published in 
Rome, which speaks of the monument to be erected to him as 
Father of the Workingmen, 

The noted President of Cornell University, Jacob Gould 
Schurman, who has long been known to the American public 
not alone as an educator but also as a prominent writer and 
adviser in matters of national import, has also sent his kind 
appreciation to The Catholic World Magazine: 

I appreciate the privilege afforded me of joining in celebrat- 
ing the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Pontificate of Leo XIII. 
I have never had the honor of seeing His Holiness, but his 
photographs present the picture of a countenance radiant with 
goodness, intelligence, and wisdom. The revered head of the 
greatest spiritual organization in the world. Christians of all 
denominations delight to recall his potent and exalted service 
in the promotion of justice, virtue, and piety among all peoples. 



.1903.] The Great White Shepherd. 721 

I have always been greatly impressed, too, with the high and 
wise statesmanship which Leo XIII. has exhibited in dealing with 
the fundamental problems of the modern state — the relations of 
capital to labor, of weaker classes and peoples to stronger, and 
.the everlasting but still unsettled rights of man. And it is 
peculiarly appropriate that His Holiness, as servant of the 
Prince of Peace, should have been a constant champion of 
Arbitration for the settlement of international disputes. My 
earnest desire is that a man so good and great may for years 
to come still be spared to the Catholic Church, to Christendom, 
and to the world. Jacob Gould Schurman. 

The Rev. Lyman Abbott, of the Outlook^ perhaps the most 
influential religious paper in this country, although differing 
from us in faith, sends the following tribute to Leo, which is 
an evidence of how his work has been regarded by those who 
are apt oftentimes to look upon us with hostile eyes: 

It gives me great pleasure to furnish a brief appreciation of 
.Leo XIII. Your readers must remember that this comes from 
me as from a non* Catholic. 

While all broad-minded Protestants will recognize the piety 
and the theological scholarship of Leo XIII., it is his service 
as a statesman and a diplomat that will most call forth their 
appreciation. For we Protestants have been accustomed to 
identify the Roman Catholic Church with the monarchical form 
of government, and to regard that church as on the one hand 
necessarily a support of monarchy, and on the other hand, 
laaturally, if not necessarily, inimical to democratic or popular 
institutions. 

It is not necessary here to point out the causes which haye 
led to this very general opinion in Protestant circles, npr to 
^consider whether there is historical or philosophical justification 
for it. It is enough to note that it has also been entertained 
by some eminent Roman Catholic ecclesiastics. Thus, it canpot 
be doubted that the Carlists in Spain and the Royalists in 
'France have sought to support their cause by endeavoring to 
^identify the Church of Rome with Carlism in the one kingdom 
and with the Monarchy in the other. Pope Leo XIII. has 
rendered, in my judgment, an incalculable service, not only to 
•the Roman Catholic Church but to Europe, and indeed to 
iiumanity at large, by what he has done to. dissipate this im- 



722 The Great White Shepherd. [Mar.^ 

pres^ion that the Church and DesMcracy are inimical to each 
other, and 'to make it clear that one can be a loyal and faith- 
ful son of the Church and a loyal and faithfnl citizen of a free 
Republican government. No man in any other position, what- 
ever his ability, could possibly have done what Pope Leo 
XIIL has done to accomplish this result, and no man in the 
Papal Chair could have accomplished this result if he had not 
possessed the eminent abilities of Pope Leo XIIL 

Lyman Abbott. 

V 

Last of all we add an appreciation of Leo's work in that 
line which as the Shepherd of souls he loves best to labor: 

THE DEVOTIONAL INFLUENCE OF LEO XIII. 

The Vicar of Christ holds his office that God may reign in 
men's lives through the indwelling Holy Spirit which is given 
to us. Such has ever been the purpose of Leo XIII. The 
whole world has awarded him, in his international activity, the 
apostolate of universal charity ; and for men individually his 
constant endeavor has been to arouse our fidelity to the im- 
pressions of divine grace and loyalty to Jesus Christ. 

How sincerely should we thank God for the Papacy, the 
whole tenor of whose government has been to claim the entire 
world for God. This has been done most efficaciously by Leo's 
greatest encyclicals, on the Sovereignty of Jesus Christ, on His 
Real Presence in the Eucharist, and on the Interior Guidance 
of the Holy Spirit. Catholics do not believe that their Pope 
is inspired. But only the influence of Christ's Gospel could be 
greater than that of these majestic epistles of the father of 
Christendom to all the churches. 

And what a consolation this must be to him, so much in 
need of comfort. He has had heart-scaldings enough in his 
dealings with secular rulers. But when he has addressed us 
all, the prelates and priests and people of God's Church, every 
true Catholic has become an apostolic nuncio to his own soul 
and to all his brethren^ — even to the sheep of Christ outside 
the true fold. When the Pope's plea for Christ is thus 'made 
it does not fail. In the field of the church's political relations, 
sterile and over-cultivated as it is, the Pope has striven hard 
for the public rights of the truth, and too often with- only 
meagre results. Not so with hid messages to the people. As 



,1903.] THE Great white shepherd. 723 

the chief ambassador of Christ his appeals for a deeper absorp- 
tion in divine things, a quicker advertence to the dictates of 
an enlightened conscience, and fidelity to the leadings of the 
Spirit of God, have been marvellously successful. Under Leo's 
devotional teachings the entire race of mankind have greatly 
advanced in the knowledge and love of God, and especially 
through his encyclicals on Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. 

Whenever Leo's theme has been the maxims of the Gospel, 
that is to say, the denial of self-interest for the sake of Christ 
and our brethren, instantly the world has beheld the most 
powerful argument for the papal claims — the identity of our 
obedience to the successor of the Fisherman with obedience to 
the dictates of Christian love. The highest prerogative of the 
Vicar of Christ — well does our beloved Leo know it — is to fire 
men's souls with the love of God ; obedience to the Pope leads 
to that or it is not welcome to him, nor is it in anywise a reliable 
trait of Catholic character. Never, therefore, was the papal 
power more convincingly advocated than when Leo urged the 
fervent use of the standard means of acquiring virtue, such as 
the sacraments and prayer; when he put new life into such 
devotions as the Rosary and the Sacred Heart; and above all 
in making religion more intensely personal by inculcating a 
closer union in the interior life with the Holy Spirit, the divine 
spouse of our souls. 

Under Leo's instructions faith has thus become both firmer 
and more intelligent ; under his exhortations to the love of Jesus 
Christ, motives of conduct in every order of life have become 
more upright; our communication with God more immediate, 
more conscious, more fruitful of the virtues called for by divine 
Providence in our day, such as the sanctification of learning 
and the conversion of souls. 

Fidelity to the interior influences of grace, safeguarded by 
the external order of God in Holy Church, is the whole of 
relig^ion. And our beloved Pontiff, as he looks back at his very 
long career as visible head of God's Church, has his sweetest, 
perhaps his only unalloyed consolation, in the remembrance of 
his unvarying success as a strictly religious teacher, inspiring 
souls with those individual qualities which alone can be the 
salvation of either men or nations, and whose combination and 
sequence, to use the expression of St. Francis de Sales, is the 
crowning grace of final perseverance. 



724 THE EDUCATIONAL STRUGGLE IN ENGLAND. [Mar., 



THE EDUCATIONAL STRUGGLE IN ENGLAND. 

BY REV. GILBERT SIMMONS, C.S.P. 

I HE Education Bill, over which there has waged 
so long and bitter a struggle, has now become 
law. It will not, however, so far as can be 
seen, form a permanent or final settlement. Ab, 
however, it is a phase in the struggle going on 
over most of the civilized world between religious and irre- 
ligious training, it is important to form an estimate, so far as 
may be possible, not only of the result of the struggle but of 
the spirit, character, and power of the combatants, in view of 
the next, as it would seem not very distant, campaign. 

It may be well, in the first place, to explain as briefly as 
possible a few terms which are constantly recurring in any dis- 
cussion of the school question. Schools are divided into Board 
and Voluntary Schools. Although by virtue of the new law 
School Boards disappear. Board Schools will remain. The act 
calls them provided schools; because for them the whole ex- 
pense not only of teaching but also of buildings, their erection 
and maintenance, is provided by taxes and by rates. Those 
provided, or Board Schools, are under the exclusive and com- 
plete control and management of the Educational Committees 
of the local authorities set up by the act. The Voluntary, or 
non-provided schools, are the schools which hitherto have had 
no assistance from the rates, although their expenses up to 
about four-fifths or five-sixths of the whole amount have been 
provided out of the taxes. Taxes, it may be worth while to 
mention, are the money derived under immediate authority of 
Parliament from the national products of industry and com- 
merce, and are collected and distributed by the Imperial au- 
thorities. Rates are levied by Town and County Councils for 
definite and defined local purposes. The Voluntary, or non- 
provided, schools are to share in those rates for the future; 
but their managers have to provide out of their own funds the 
buildings, and to keep those buildings in repair, and to make 
such additions and alterations as the local educational authority 



1903.] The Educational Struggle in England. 725: 

may deem reasonable. These non*provided or religious schools 
are under the control first of their own managers (although' 
very little actual power is left to these managers), and second, 
of the local educational committee. Both classes of schools are 
under the supreme control of the Education Board in London 
for administrative purpose; Parliament being, of course, the 
only legislative authority. 

All the schools, whether provided or non-provided, are 
subject to a Conscience Clause; that is to say, it is within the 
power of the parents of children to remove them from the 
religious instruction given in the school. Catholic children, 
therefore, need riot attend the religious instruction given in a 
Protestant school, and vice versa. Another provision often 
confused with the Conscience Clause is the Cowper-Temple 
Clause. This applies only to the provided schools, and forbids 
these schools to give religious instruction according to the' 
definite lines of church catechism or creed. It is to the opera- 
tion of this clause that the latest form of Protestant opinion 
is due — Undenominational ism. Its formation was derived from 
the necessity of catering to the various religions of the rate- 
payers. The dissident sects were not willing to exclude all 
religious teaching from the schools; and are too jealous of one 
another to allow any particular form of opinion to be taught; 
and too stingy to build and pay for schools for teaching 
each its own form; and so they have manufactured a common 
Christianity which should be the religion of all in general, and 
that of none in particular. The Nonconformist conscience is 
thus appeased ; their sacred money is not applied to the up- 
building of any particular dissident sect. No scruples, how- 
ever, trouble it about using Cardinal Vaughan's money and 
that of Catholics for teaching a religion they abhor; these 
are in a minority, and their duty is to accept what pleases the 
majority. 

Proceeding now to the consideration of affairs consequent 
upon the passage of the act. On its way through the House 
of Commons many changes were made in the bill. A few 
were improvements; the greater part were not. As intro- 
duced, the transfer of the Board Schools from the control of 
School Boards to that of a committee of the Town or County 
Council was left to each local district. All parties soon came to 
see that this would only perpetuate strife for an indefinite period^ 



726 The Educational Struggle in England. [Man^ 

and the change is. now compulsory. School Boards have be- 
come a thing of the past. Board Schools, however, with the 
Cowper-Temple clause,. which. forbids definite religious instruction, 
still survive with the right they have and always had to levy 
rates and to share in the endowment derived from taxation. 
The place of School Boards is taken by a committee chosen by 
the Town or County Council. Hitherto a special election was 
held and educational policy came directly under the considera- 
tion of the electors ; in future these questions can only be 
voted upon by the electors indirectly ; that is, by voting for the 
Town or County Council which will elect the Education Com- 
mittee ; and as many other questions will be involved in a town 
or county election, educational affairs are now. only brought re- 
motely under popular control. It remains to be seen whether 
the opponents of the measure will be able to excite interest 
enough in the elections to secure for their party the dominat- 
ing control of the Education Committees. In this event it will 
be in their power to give great trouble to the voluntary re- 
ligious schools. For the powers of the Local Educational Com- 
mittee are extensive. Over the secular education, even as first 
proposed by the bill, their control is complete, fixing school 
hours, appointing books ; all expenditure is under their control, 
the number of teachers to be employed and their qualifications ; 
the dismissal of teachers on educational grounds belongs to these 
committees; their consent is required to the appointment of 
teachers — a consent, however, which is not to be refused except 
on educational grounds. And above all, they have the power 
to appoint one-third of the managers of every school. To the 
managers is left the power to dismiss and to appoint teachers, 
subject to the recogpiition by the Education Committee of their 
fitness in secular matters. It is thus easy to see that a com- 
mittee opposed to religious schools may cause a great deal of 
trouble if so minded, and it is not easy to see what powers are 
left to the managers of the schools. Duties and burdens indeed 
remain to them ; they have to maintain the school buildings in 
good repair, and to make such alterations and improvements as 
may be reasonably required by the local educational authority, 
out of funds provided by themselves. 

All these conditions seem to be sufficiently unfair to religious 
schools, but a crowning injustice was introduced in the course 
of the bill through the House of Commons. This was the 



1903] THE Educational Struggle m England. ^2^ 

famous Keny,on-Slaney clause. This . clause gives the control 
of religious instruction in the denonvinatioaal schools to the 
Board of Manager^ as a body, and takes Jt out of the hands of 
the priest or clergyman. It is now no longer of right, th^t the 
priest controls the religious instruction in his own schools; if 
he does so it is only because he is able by tact, by superior 
intelligeiice, by popularity, or what not, to hpld his own.. 
High- Churchmen see in. this a denial of the divine right of 
the minister to be the authorized Imparter of religious instrucr, 
tion l^y succession from the Apostles. If la the schools he is 
under the control of a committee of laymen^ spnue of. whom 
are dissenters, and this in virtue, of an act of Parliament, \\, is 
to be feared that it will not be long before the ^me claim is 
^ade for the power to control t(ie religious , teaching in the 
church. In fact, the Bishop of Southwell welcomes this as 
the first step for the enlarging of the powers. of the laity, which 
the advocates of Church Reform. have at heart. 

This prov.isOj by which the managers are given control of 
the religious instruction, although in the highest degree objec- 
tionable in principle, will not in allprobability work badly in 
practice in Catholic schools, for the Catholi.c Church knows her 
own mind, and knows who is a Catholic and who is not ; and 
the four Catholic foundation managers out of the six which 
constitute the board will secure Catholic teaching. In the 
Anglican Church, however, as no one knows what is and what 
is not Anglican teaching, so no one knows who is a bona fide 
Anglican and who is not; and this is rendered the more diffi- 
cult on account of the claim which every Englishman may 
piake, even though a dissenter or a Jew, to be of right a 
member of the National Church, and to exercise those rights 
when so it pleases him. 

To sum up the objections involved in. the act as finally 
passed: It renders religious teaching insecure by contravening 
the right of the clergy to teach, and making the managers 
judges of what shall be taught, within, of course, the, limits of 
the trust de^ds, and with an appe^ to the chiefs • of denom- 
inations. It makes, however, these trvLSt deeds insecure by 
giving the Board of Education power to vary them. It renders 
the property of buildings insecure inasmuch as it gives the 
right to the local authority to call upon the managers to make 



728. The Educational Struggle in England. [Man- 
improvements. These improvements are to be reasonable, 
indeed ; but who is the judge of that reasonableness ? 

A great object which the friends of religious education 
hoped to secure by the act was that the schools would retain 
their religious atmosphere. The act as altered, while it leaves 
the appointment of the head- master to the managers, who will, of 
course, appoint a teacher of the same denomination as those to 
which the school belongs, enables the local authority to appoint 
assistant teachers who may be of any or of no religion. 

If, then, the law involves all these hardships and entails 
upon denominational schools expenses from which undenomina- 
tional schools are free, why, it may be asked, should it be 
accepted, and of what advantage is it ? About acceptance 
there can be no question; for, if not accepted, no help at all 
will be given to the schools from either rates or taxes. As to 
the advantage of it, this seems to consist only and solely in 
this: That the state takes upon itself the entire support of 
the school — paying the salaries of teachers, and placing them 
upon a level with the teachers of the provided schools. In 
consideration of this the Catholic bishops of England are willing 
to work loyally under the act, and to contribute to its success ; ' 
they have never accepted it as good ideally, but only as the 
best which is practically attainable. The sentiment of the 
Anglican bishops, and even of the English Church Union, is 
in agreement with this — ^all urge upon the clergy the duty of 
making the best of a bad position. The hope for the future is 
in the characteristically illogical Anglo-Saxon way of making 
things work well, however bad they may appear. If a revival 
of religious' feeling should take place, the present act may last^ 
or be modified in a way favorable to religious; schools. The 
dissenters hoped when the Education Act of 1870 was passed 
that the death-knell of denominational schools had been sounded. 
They have since by the use of public money been trying to 
starve them out ; they have not succeeded, and their bitterness 
and disappointment are evidenced by the opposition which they, 
offered to the passing of even such an act as the presents 
What will they do now ? 



MGR i. CRETIN. 



MONTLUEL, THE BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CRETIN.' 

 BY LORENZO J. MARKOE. 

I ROM Bishop Cretin's memorial stone, over his 
grave in Calvary Cemetery in St. Paul, Minnesota, 
we learn that he was " born in Montluel, France, 
A. D. 1799." The little work mentioned below 
reveals such a remarkable history, and shows 
Montluel to have been a place of such importance in earlier 
French annals, that an outline sketch of the quaint mediaeval 
town can scarcely fail to interest one. 

To reach our destination we must take the railway from 
Lyons to Geneva, as it winds along the right bank of the river 
Rhone. After thus travelling for several kilometres our course 
changes at Miribel, whence we follow to the left a beautiful 
ridge of hills, crowned with woods, and planted with vineyards 
which overlook well-cultivated fields and prairies. We pass in 

'Eifuiiit HitlerigHt !ur MonllMtt. P" .... '"den Cur< de la Paroiise. Imprimerie J 
Durfuil, Bourg. 1897. 

VOL. uxxvi.— 47 



730 MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CR£TIN, [Mar.^ 

rapid succession several charming villages, cross the Sereine — a 
small river bed usually dry — and alight at the seventh station in 
the Department of Ain. We are at Montluel. 

Before us stretches a beautiful old avenue of linden-trees, 
planted, if tradition be correct, in the eighteenth century, and 
which must be seen to appreciate its full beauty and fascination 
for the wearied traveller. Beyond the avenue the little town 
nestles cozily at the foot of the hill. Raising our eyes higher, 
we behold houses and vineyards which seem to cling to the 
side of the hill as it rises above the village; and over all, at 
the very summit, a fine large statue of the Blessed Virgin looks 
forth upon the surrounding country for miles distant. Near 
this statue is the old dhurch of St. Barthelemy, amidst ancient 
grave-stones and monuments; and close by are the crumbling 
walls which still mark the site of the ancestral castle of 
Montluel. If we climb to the summit and seat ourselves near 
these old ruins, we may look forth upon one of those beautiful 
panoramas for which " La Belle France " is so justly celebrated. 
Again descending to the town, we may visit the churches, 
hospice, town-hall, and trace the remains of the ancient fortifi- 
cations which once protected this old feudal town from the 
inroads of its enemies. 

Montluel, to-day the principal town of a little French 
canton, was formerly the seat of one of the seigniories of 
Bresse. An ancient Roman highway branched off here. The 
great tower, upon the foundations of which now rests the 
statue of the Blessed Virgin already mentioned, served as a 
watch-tower, overlooking this road in the times of the Romans. 
The plains near Montluel constitute a part of Valbonne. In a 
map of the second century, in Montfalcon's History of Lyons, 
we find the names of Valli Bona, Mons Lupelli, between the 
Rhone and the Saone, below the confluence of the river Ain. 
In Charlemagne's division of his vast empire, Valbonne, included 
in Burgundy, formed a part of Germany. Our author tells us 
that there were certain churches and chapels there from the 
first centuries of Christianity. Towards the year 450, St. Domi- 
tian lived there for a time as a hermit. In 680 one of the 
grandsons of Clovis, King Gontram, founded in the Forest of 
Bresse a monastery for the monks of St. Benedict. We know 
with what zeal Charlemagne sought to advance religion in all 
the provinces of his empire. The French savant. Ampere, in 



1903.] MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CR&TIN. 731 

an address before 
the Institute of 
France, in 1837, 
said : "Charle- 
magne probably 
established more 
primary schools 
than exist to-day. 
. , . He pre- 
scribed that every 
priest should have „ 
a free school in § 
his presbytery for g 
all those children r 
who should de- 7 
sire instruction." J? 
It is probable that '^ 
it was at this S 
period that was ^ 
founded the an- S 
cient priory of %■ 
Montluel \anti- ^ 
quissimus priora- "Z. 
tus Montis Lupel- \ 
lis), which is men- ' 
tioned by the old w 
chroniclers. ^ 

The construc- 
tion of the castle 
of Montluel — the 
fortress of the 
town and the resi- 
dence of its sove- 
reign lords— dates 
from the period 
of the incursions 
of the Normans, 
Saracens, and 

Hungarians, when the inhabitants would retire in terror with 
their wives and children to the fortresses, and there await the 
arrival of the imperial troops, which but too often failed to 



732 MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CRETIN, [Mar., 

come to their rescue. This state of affairs gave rise to the 
feudal system, under which the lords built their castles along 
the borders and came to the relief of the oppressed and per- 
secuted people. In the eleventh century disorders existed 
throughout the empire, and wars were desolating the country. 
Under these circumstances the principal governors of the more 
distant provinces, with the encouragement of the people them- 
selves, assumed the position of independent sovereigns. Thus 
Bresse was partitioned amongst themselves by the sires of 
Beauge, Chatillon, Montluel, Villars, and Thoire in Bugey. In 
1 1 52 the Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, legalized all these 
usurpations by the golden bull in which he reserved to himself 
the right of suzerainty. The seigniory of Montluel included all 
the country of Valbonne, comprising a territory nine or ten 
leagues in circumference. The lords of Montluel were frequently 
called in as arbiters or sureties to settle disputes between 
prominent persons of the period. Our author mentions many 
of these cases. Thus the principle of arbitration was fully 
recognized and applied by many persons of distinction in the 
Middle Ages. 

On March 6, 1276, Humbert IV. of Montluel granted to the 
seigniory its liberties and franchises as a commune of France. 
These franchises are set forth at length in the learned work of ^ 
Valentine Smith (Bibliotheca Dumbensis). Humbert engaged, 
in substance, to impose no arbitrary impost ; to leave each one 
at liberty to bequeath or to sell; to assess contributions on 
immovable property, excepting church property ; to protect his 
subjects in their persons and goods ; to exercise hospitality to- 
wards strangers ; to use moderation towards poor debtors ; to 
be severe only for crimes of a certain gravity ; to exact only 
a restricted military service; to administer justice in the town, 
and without a delay of more than one year at most ; to pro- 
tect the burgesses and the inferior classes against the superior; 
to grant them the right to administer their own affairs ; to 
cause the personal dignity of each to be respected ; to repress 
fraud and evil manners ; to encourage general recourse to the 
markets of the town; to protect his subjects against bad faith 
on the part of foreign debtors and against the excessive severity 
of creditors; to facilitate trade and the establishment of stran- 
gers upon his domains ; to repress quarrels and dilapidations ; 
to prevent monopoly and excessive charges for merchandise ; to 



1903.] MoNTLUEL. Birthplace of Bishop Cretin. 733 



The Chukch of NOtrb Daub dbs Mabais. 
take the advice of the burgesses and to respect their rights ; to 
choose intendants, judges, or overseers worthy of consideration. 
The inhabitants on their side assumed certain reciprocal duties 
towards the lord. This document is well worthy of notice in 
these days of boasted liberty and civilization. How many 
countries to-day enjoy all the privileges thus guaranteed to 
the inhabitants of Montluel in the so-called "Dark Ages"? 

For three centuries, under the rule of the reigning family 
of the Lords of Montluel, the seigniory was almost entirely free 
from war and its attendant horrors, and the inhabitants lived 
in a state of peace and prosperity. In 1442 embattled towers, 
connected by thick walls, encircled the town, six gates giving 
access to the place. A tower was constructed at one of the 
gates ; also a triple circuit of walls around the castle, a draw- 



734 MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CR&TIN. [Mar., 

bridge, and a glacis or parapet, with loop-holes, around the 
great Roman tower, to make of it the principal defence of the 
old castle or citadel. One can to-day still verify the existence 
of several of these fortifications. 

The Church of St. fitienne was given, in 1080, by the 
Archbishop of Lyons, St. Geboin, to the religious of St. Ruf, 
or Rufus, a congregation which at that time accomplished much 
for religion in France, Spain, and Italy. St. Rufus was Bishop 
of Avignon in the third century. The chapel of the castle was 
under the patronage of St. Barth^lemy, or Bartholomew, the 
Apostle. In 1289 Humbert IV. of Montluel built a new church 
outside the castle, upon the panel of the door of which may 
still be deciphered this inscription : " In the year of the Lord 
1289 this church was founded by Humbert of Montluel and 
Aloyse his wife, in honor of the Blessed Bartholomew, Apostle,'* 
This church now serves as the mortuary chapel, with the ceme- 
tery of the commune close to its walls. It is in the Roman 
style. Behind the main altar is still to be seen a masterpiece 
representing the martyrdom of St. Bartholomew, and attributed 
to Ribeira, who was called the Little Spaniard (rEspagnolet). 
He was a pupil of Michael Angelo, and died in 1656. It 
has been injured in an attempt to retouch it; but the prin- 
cipal subject remains intact, and is perfect in expression and 
reality. 

Some Augustinian Fathers were established in Montluel about 
1 39 1. In 1 4 10 they received donations and purchased property 
on Rue Neuve, where the convent was built. Meanwhile the 
inhabitants restored and enlarged their church of St. Etienne as 
we see it at the present day. The church once restored and 
enlarged, Pope Leo X. erected a congregation of ten priests for 
its service. These priests were to reside in the parish, and to 
assist at all the offices, under penalty of being deprived of theif 
revenues. To be admitted into this congregation it was neces- 
sary to be a grammarian, rhetorician, and theologian, or at 
least to be able to read in order to learn canon law. 

The site now occupied by the beautiful Church of Notre 
Dame was formerly but a wet, marshy soil. A well-established 
tradition, transmitted from generation to generation, assures us 
that at a remote epoch there was found in this marsh a statue 
of the Blessed Virgin, holding in her arms the little Infant 
Jesus. It is also said that this statue, being carried several 



1903.] MoNTLUEL, Birthplace of Bishop Cr&tin. 735 

times into a church of the town, was always found the next 
morning upon the edge of the marsh. The inhabitants built a 
chapel to shelter the statue, and venerated it. It was called 
Notre Dame des Mares, or Marais {Our Lady of the Marshes). 



Prodigies and miracles took place there, and a great concourse 
of the faithful came thither to pray, especially on the feasts of 
the Blessed Virgin. During the fifteenth century some six or 
seven priests formed the design of living in community in order 
to conduct their devotional exercises in common, and to cele- 
brate the divine office with more solemnity in the chapel of 
Notre Dame des Marais. Thanks to their zeal and to the gifts 
of the inhabitants, there soon arose the beautiful Gothic church 
that we admire at the present day. In 1530 Pope Clement VII. 
erected a chapter under the name of Nutre Dame des Marais, 
composed of an archdeacon, a chorister, and thirteen canons. 
The dean was to be named by the Roman court. In 1605 more 
than forty thousand persons, to gain the jubilee indulgence, 
visited the church of Notre Dame during the three days of 
Pentecost ; and upon this occasion a Capuchin father preached 
thirty-three times to this crowd of pilgrims. 



736 MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CR&TIN. [Mar., 

There was formerly at Montluel a hospice, said to date from 
the thirteenth century, for lodging the pilgrims who repaired to 
St. James of Conipostella, in Spain, a pilgrimage much frequented 
in the Middle Ages from all parts of Europe. Alongside this 
hospice had arisen a chapel dedicated to St. James the Greater. 

• In the sixteenth century a confraternity of White Penitents of 
Notre Dame du Gonfalon used this chapel for the celebration 
of their religious offices. This society had been founded by St. 

• Bonaventure in Lyons, and was composed of the most fervent 
Ghristians — workmen, burgesses, magistrates, advocates, nobles, 
and priests. In certain years pestilence caused terrible ravages 
in Montluel and the vicinity. To ward off this infliction, the 
magistrates and burgesses made a solem vow to celebrate each 
year the Feast of St. Mark the Evangelist by having on that 
day a procession of the Blessed Sacrament. This procession is 
still a great event each year in Montluel, and is participated in 
with genuine devotion by the inhabitants. 

There was a printing establishment in Montluel in 1536, 
and a college in 1584. The studies extended to rhetoric; the 
school was well equipped ; the classes were full. This institu- 
tion was still in existence in 1788. There was also at one 
time a famous lodging-house called La Gouronne, at which the 
greatest lords of France and of foreign countries deemed it a 
pleasure to sojourn before entering Lyons. In the eighteenth 
century Montluel carried on a good commerce in grain and 
hemp. There were numerous presses of walnut and colza or 
coleseed oil, several dyers' shops, bleaching-yards for thread, 
and for awhile a spinning factory for cotton. There existed 
guilds for dyers, hemp-combers, and bakers. 

In 1620 the body of St. Francis de Sales, when it was 
being carried from Lyons, where he died, to Annecy, rested for 
one night in the Ghurch of St. fitienne, where the entire popu- 
lation came in crowds to venerate it. In 1640 some Sisters of 
the Visitation were established at Montluel; but, later, their 
extreme poverty led the Archbishop of Lyons to dissolve the 
community. While these Visitandines were in Montluel, in 
1 64 1, during her last journey to Moulins, St. Jane Frances de 
Ghantal visited them. Some months later her body was carried 
back from Moulins to Annecy. It rested one night at Montluel, 
where the people again hastened in crowds to venerate it, 
whilst the Sisters kept watch over it through the night. The 



1903.] MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CR&TIN. 737 



IVEHT, NEAR THE CHURCH OF N6TRE DAME. 

present community of the Visitation at Montluel dates from 
some two centuries later, in 1820. In the chapel of this con- 
vent are venerated the relics of Ste. Pkcidie, Virgin and Mar- 
tyr, which were brought thither from Rome by Mgr. Cretin, 
who became Bishop of St. Paul, Minnesota In this chapel, in 
I S69, was received into the church from Episcopalianism a lady 
from St. Paul, who was residing here temporarily with her 
married sister. From the same convent had gone forth some 
years before Sister Anastasie Martin, to found a house of the 
order in the United States, at Keokuk, Iowa. These sisters 
were finally transferred to Wilmington, Delaware, where they 
now possess a fine convent, and have embraced the strict primi- 
tive observance of their order. The same American lady who 
abjured Protestantism in the chapel at Montluel is now a mem- 
ber of the community in Wilmington, where she was for a 
time Mother Superior. 

M. Bazin, at one time a vicar in Montluel, became mis- 
sionary apostolic in Mobile, Alabama, vicar- general to the 
bishop of that diocese, and afterwards was himself Bishop of 
Vincennes, Indiana. Bishop Cretin and Father L^don, who also 
labored in St. Paul as a missionary for several years, were both 



7^8 MONTLUEL, BIRTHPLACE OF BISHOP CR&TIN. [Mar., 

born at Montluel. Fathers Goiffon, Robert, and Genis, all three 
still laboring in the diocese of St. Paul, are natives of Mexi- 
mieux, a portion of the ancient seigniory of Montluel. Arch- 
bishop Ireland and Bishop O'Gorman made their preparatory 
studies for the priesthood at Meximieux, where they were sent 
by Bishop Cretin. The following priests were also born in 
Montluel : Martine, missionary in America ; Janin, Marist, mis- 
sionary in New Caledonia; Gouchon, Dominican, missionary in 
Trinidad. 

A description of the brilliant gatherings and solemnities at 
the old castle of Montluel we must reluctantly omit. The 
Emperors Sigis;nund and Frederick III. of Germany, King 
Francis I. of France, Catherine de Medicis, Henry IV., and 
Louis XIII. — all were entertained there. The ancient glory of 
Montluel departed with the terrible days of the French Revolu- 
tion; but the people have retained the faith, and are as a 
whole faithful to their religious duties. With this very imper- 
fect sketch we must bid an affectionate farewell to our lovely 
little village, nestling snugly against the beautiful hills of Bresse, 
and seemingly giving but little thought to its ancient glories 
and privileges of past centuries, now well-nigh lost to view in 
the mists of time. 

Whitt Bear, Mmnesola. 



1903.] A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland. 739 




A VISION OF SPIRITUAL HOPE FOR IRELAND. 

BY REV. HENRY EDWARD OKEEFFE, C.S.P. 

OW can I ever forget the feeling that came over 
my spirit when, after a journey of many days at 
sea, I saw in the distance and for the first time 
the green Irish coast looming up like some sad 
spectre upon the horizon. Who can explain the 
subtle sentiment which will creep over the heart and stir the 
blood at the mere sight of some certain object? It was there 
in that mysterious country that my fathers slept. There they 
had sorrowed, fought, and died. From there came my own 
flesh and blood — my own kith and kin. The fresh imaginings 
of my boyhood were heightened by traditions of valor in war 
and fidelity in love as lived and felt in that romantic isle. 
Small wonder, then, that such a keen mood of emotion should 
fall upon me like a pall and move my eyes to tears — my soul 
to pity. All this would be personal did I not wish to provoke 
in you the belief that although I did not spring from the loins 
of Irish soil but was born in the new Republic of the West, I 
had nevertheless an Irishwoman for a mother, and I may, there- 
fore, by the right of heredity, speak of Ireland with some 
authority and even with some affection. 

DIVINE PROVIDENCB AND THE JEWISH PEOPLE. 

It was while tending his flock of sheep at the foot of Mount 
Horeb that God appeared to Moses in a burning bush. The divine 
voice said to him : '* Behold the cry of the children of Israel is 
come unto Me : and I have seen their affliction wherewith they are 
oppressed by the Egyptians. But come and I will send thee to 
Pharao, that thou mayst bring forth My people, the children of 
Israel, out of Egypt." 

Pharao met the appeal of Moses by oppressing the Israelites 
with a yoke still more heavy. Nine times did plague fall upon 
the land of Egypt, but the king remained obdurate against the 
heavenly dictate of Moses. There came a tenth plague. In 
one night the angel of death smote the first-born of the king 
on his throne to the first-born of every slave, and even the 



740 A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland. [Mar., 

first-born of the cattle, until there rose up throughout all 
Egypt a universal wail. On that very night the Israelites, 
having their loins girded and shoes on their feet and a staff in 
the hand, ate the flesh of a lamb with unleavened bread and 
bitter herbs. They ate in haste and as pilgrims and travellers. 
The King of Egypt feared them and wished that they might 
leave his domain, and so they wandered on and on to the shore 
of the Red Sea, led in the night by a light of fire and in the 
day by a pillar of cloud. Those forty years in the desert be- 
tween Sinai on the south and Elim on the north prepared them 
for sorrows yet to come and even within sight of the Promised 
Land. With each morning, before the rising of the sun, manna 
came to them from heaven as a food and water gushed from 
the rocks to slake their thirst. To this day they have wan- 
dered over the face of the earth. But there is, in spite of their 
historic misfortunes, a disposition of Providence which, I cannot 
but believe, is watching over them even now. It was on the 
feast of the Passover, the fourteenth of April, in or about the 
year of our Lord seventy-nine, that the Jews out of sheer 
desperation strove to defend the Holy City of Jerusalem. 

MODERN MOVEMENT OF ZIONISM. 

But Jerusalem is gone, and of the Temple of the Jews there re- 
mains, as was foretold, not a stone upon a stone. But who shall 
say that from that destruction and dispersion, or that because of the 
few scattered remnants of Jews, strewn over the earth, that the 
Jews are dead and do not affect modern history ? Does not 
the modern movement of Zionism among the choice spirits of 
the Hebrew race rather betoken a sign of their preternatural 
vigor ? It is still their dream and glorious hope that they will 
once again take up the golden thread of their history ; that the 
hour may yet come when they will rehabilitate themselves 
within the walls of Zion. Indeed, there are a few vague Scrip- 
tural foreshadowings which would seem to intimate that the 
olive-tree will again naturally thrive, for, we are, after all, only 
a branch of the wild-olive which has been grafted in on the 
original tree. So that the dispersion of a race to the four 
winds of the heavens is no proof that it has lost its primeval 
strength or historic destiny. Rather, sometimes, the pressure of 
its untoward and tragic history may be the very condition of 
the fulfilment of its mission. For nations and races, as well as 



1903.] A VISION OF Spiritual Hope for Ireland. 741 

men, have vocations and are constructed, under God, to com- 
plete some special purpose in the vast scheme of the workings 
of history. Moreover, it would seem that different historical 
issues are brought . about by the very dissimilar characteristics 
of different races. Each race would seem to fill its economy in 
the explicit exposition of God's direction over the life of his- 
tory. " Let the nations be glad and rejoice : for Thou judges! 
the people with justice and directe^t the nations upon earth.** 
In a discussion of the peculiar gifts of different races it were 
wise to look at the subject calmly and not to overestimate the 
virtues or to magnify the vices of any particular race. 

DIVINE VOCATION OF THE IRISH RACE. 

The racial question is always a difHcult one and must be 
treated with prudence, else we may violate the sensibilities of 
men and accordingly impede our progress towards the possession 
of truth. We must, moreover, be careful to aver that God does 
not need any nation or race to complete his beneficent designs 
towards humanity. Stranger still it would appear that the 
seeming defects of a race may be distorted into instruments of 
good for the salvation of the world. It was said of the ancient 
Romans that they lusted for dominion ; be that as it may, St. 
Augustine thought that Heaven rewarded them for their civic 
virtues by giving them the empire of the world. The craving 
for conquest which was in their hearts, indirectly wrought the 
fact that their colonies were converted into world-wide gardens 
of Christian civilization. I trust it is not overzealous for me 
to venture the opinion that the modern British Empire, in some 
faint manner, reflects the fortunes of the Roman Empire of the 
past. Neither can .it be amiss, nor out of good taste, nor a 
commonplace to see in the tragic history and newer testament 
of the Irish race some faint reflection of the divine vocation of 
the Israelites of old. 

ERIN'S SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE. 

The races in modern Europe, as likewise in America, have 
been and are being so intermingled, that only certain general 
characteristics can be attributed to each of the greater ones — 
such as the Latins, the Saxons, or the Celts. 

But in writing of the Irish race I wish to combine all the 
conflicting racial elements of Irish nationality under one head. 



742 A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland. [Mar., 

I would direct my words to the one type which represents 
all the races of Ireland — the Celtic, the Gaelic, the Norman, 
and even the Saxon. Moreover, concerning the nation itself, 
I would think of it, not so much as a land which drew — 
as rivers to the sea — different streams of European races, but 
as a country which had or has its own peculiar complexion 
of civilization. If it be true that the elect among men are 
chosen by God to bear the sins of the people and to effect 
His work through heroism and self-sacrifice, may we not say 
the same of nations, and especially of the beloved country of 
Erin? Around the great martyred Hero of a seeming lost 
cause there kneel the goodly company of the just nations — the 
weepers and the worriers — they who wane sad ; they who sit 
by the city gates or by the deep sea and look out toward the 
west. '' Behold ! how the just one dieth and there is none that 
taketh it to heart: just men are taken away and no one con- 
sidereth it: the Just One is taken away because of iniquity 
and His memory shall be in peace." 

THAT SPIRIT ALONE EXPLAINS HER HISTORY. 

He does not read history aright who sees in the Irish mar* 
tyrdom of seven hundred years nothing but the outcome of 
human events. These circumstances forced by men are divinely 
permitted to complete some providential historic development. 
The day must come when this long cycle of suffering will close. 
When Erin shall bind up the dishevelled tresses of her hair 
and put on the habiliments of life and of love. There she sits, 
easily graceful, on the bleak rocks lashed by the waves of the 
cruel sea. "Weeping she hath wept in the night and her tears 
are on her cheeks." The drops of glistening dew on her wan- 
ton tresses are the only helmet she wears. Her soft raiment is 
woven from the gold and the green of the moss in her valleys 
and the purple of the heather on her hills. She is lovable even 
in her melancholy, but she would be lovelier still if the light 
of hope came to her eyes and. the winged step of freedom to 
her feet. In forecasting her destiny we are confronted with a 
problem — we stand between the hopes and the fears of the 
Irish nation. 

THE DANGER TO HER IN MATERIAL PROGRESS. 

The fear is that that small island cannot withstand the tide 



1903.] A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland. 743 

of modern material and commercial splendor which is sweeping 
over all the world. The fear is that with the loss of her 
ancient traditions and language and music and population she 
may lose her individual life as a nation and become a prosperous 
neighboring shire — merely an English colony. When her 
majesty the late Queen ascended the throne there were ten 
millions of souls in Ireland — to-day there are less than five. 
The population was depleted by one- half during her majesty's 
reign. Indeed, I almost confess to a state verging on pessimism 
when I look upon the almost hopeless external state of Irish 
politics to-day. Modern Ireland is still to modern England 
what the English poet believes her to be: 

" — the lovely and the lonely bride, 
That we have wedded but have never won." 

On the other hand, there are clever men of an optimistic 
temper who see in the recent transference to Ireland of minor 
departments of government, a* faint foreshadowing of the fuller 
national liberty which is to come. There are patriots and acute 
thinkers who find in the recent federation of the conflicting 
political elements, a portent of the future national reconstruc- 
tion, — may the God of nations grant that this will come ! 

If, however, the former state should eventually assert itself, 
the race of itself would not necessarily lose its enduring charac- 
teristics. As I have said before, a race does not need its own 
country to complete its mission. Of old the Jews went out 
from the homes of their fathers into a strange country, and by 
their very migrations they taught to the world the lessons they 
were divinely appointed to teach. So too, think you, would 
such thorough and far-reaching phases of Christianity have been 
transplanted to America, India, Australia, or even England, if 
the Irish had remained in their own desolate, blighted country 
wandering about broken-spirited, hungry, and poor? It is sad 
reading the exodus of any people from the hills of home and 
from their hearths made festive by minstrelsy, love, and wit ; 
but to a people teeming with sentiment and highly-strung the 
melancholy is all the profounder. 

IRELAND'S SPIRITUAL GREATNESS. 

It is peculiar sometimes to great spiritual events that they 
are wrought by the materially weak and by the simple. If we 



744 A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland, [Mar., 

are to believe history, Ireland's greatness is not to be found in 
the external facts of history but rather in that more subtle 
region of the spirit. Her better life has not been public. She 
has moved rather under the clefts of the rocks — within the 
region of emotion and thought and interior grace. Hence, she 
has never once strewn fleets of ships across the seas or planted 
armies in foreign fields. Her glory is of the soul. " The 
beauty of the King's daughter is from within." Who knows 
but that if Ireland had historically and materially prospered 
she might have fallen from the state of grace, and then we could 
no longer speak of the purity of her Christianity or the cl^astity 
of her life. Amid her hopes and her fears and in the fact of 
diverging opinions as to her future, there is one practical hope 
towards which her ardent lovers (no matter what their political 
creed) may bend all their energies. It is the golden mean 
ivhich will procure a mode of civilization conserving all the 
supernatural aspirations and ancient ideals, and yet at the same 
time licitly adjusting itself to the benefits of modern progress. 
The quick intuition, the mystical tendencies, and even the very 
passions of the people are religious. There is little executive 
or mechanical genius in them if we balance these qualities with 
their spiritual sense. They are rather the feminine element in 
the races. They work best in perpetuating the life of a nation 
when in relationship with a more dominating race. They are 
emotional, susceptible, assimilative, and tender as women. They 
produce best under the influence of a more masterful external 
environment. Their wit, imagination, melancholy, and fluency 
of speech are tokens of the artistic nature rather than those of 
men of action. As woman by her subtlety and charm influ- 
ences the world for good or evil, so Erin by her tears and her 
smiles and endurance of sorrow and spirituality has played her 
delicate career on the stage of the world's drama. Beautiful 
and holy Ireland, comely as the daughter of Lir, but rich only 
in the treasure of a pure conscience, has ever been the fruitful 
mother of saints and heroes, dreamers and poets. When the 
vision dies, the people perish. It is in the providence of God 
that some nations should suffer, by way of atonement, for the 
sins of others; that some nations should be refused material 
contentment, that the sacred love of country and national ideals 
may not perish from the hearts of the people. It were better 
for a nation to suffer undignified dissolution and die from off 



1903.] A VISION OF Spiritual Hope for Ireland. 745 

the face of the earth than that, in spite of God's inspiration, it 
should sin against the light and prostitute the gift of a holy 
mission. It were better that fever and plague, coercion and 
famine, pillage and slaughter should drain away the life-blood 
of some and exile the others, if by such crises God should 
multiply his people out of Egypt. Alas ! Clpnard, Lismore, 
and Armagh are no longer nooks of sacred lore, but the vir- 
ginal ardor for spiritual science and morality glows as brightly 
as it did in the burning hearts of Saint Malachi or of Dublin's 
bishop. Saint Laurence O'Toole. How can I marshal to my lips 
the serried troops of Irish saints who joined knowledge and 
learning to purity and love ? How dare I tell it to you who 
know it so well, the golden period of Ireland's history ? How 
can I be gracious enough to speak of the beauty and inno- 
cence of the women and the little children ? How bring to 
your minds the gleam and the scent of the wild flowers — the 
sunshine and cloud — the tears and the smiles of the skies — the 
notes of the lark, the linnet, and the thrush — the wonder of 
the dark woods — the music in the leaping of the rivers and the 
streams. And least of all should I say a word, lest I provoke 
bitterness, of those rude and ruthless ages of sword and flame, ' 
of hunger and thirst. Least of all should I revivify corpses 
long since buried — faded pictures at the mere sight of which 
the heart grows sick. Rather do I linger looking towards the 
west, where " the course of empire takes i^3 way " — to the 
high hopes and to the skies more golden than a stretch of 
harvest in the yellow veil of Tipperary. 

'' A terrible and splendid trust 
Heartens the host of Innisfail : 
Their dream is of the swift sword- thrust, 
A lightning glory of the Gael. 

" Croagh Patrick is the place of prayers. 
And Tara the assembling place : 
But each sweet wind of Ireland bears 
The trump of battle on its race. 

** From Dursey Isle to Donegal, 

From Howth to Achill, the glad noise 
Rings : and the heirs of glory fall 
Or victory crowns their fighting joys. 

VOL. LXXVI. — 48 



746 A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland. [Mar., 

" A dream ! a dream ! an ancient dream ! 
Yet, ere peace comes to Innisfail, 
Some weapons on some field must gleam, 
Some burning glory fire the Gael. 

"That field may He beneath the sun 
Fair for the treading of an host : 
That field in realms of thought be won, 
And armed minds do their uttermost. 

" Some way to faithful Innisfail 

Shall come the majesty and awe 
Of martial truth, that must prevail 
To lay on all the eternal law." 

MATERIAL PROSPERITY A CONDITION OF LIFE. 

The last hope of the modern Irish poet is rather the better 
one, that in this eternal struggle with the crown some policy of 
arbitration will yet be reached by which the truth will prevail 
and the individual character of Ireland saved to the world of 
history. With the revival of industry and agriculture and of 
labor such as the flax and linen in the large cities, with the 
rehabilitation of trade so long paralyzed by manifold influences, 
with a hopeful, commercial spirit compassing the hearts of the 
people, there would come a national regeneration. They who 
love Ireland wisely tell us to beware, however, of lowering the 
mind of the entire nation to the ordinary standard of merely 
natural ambition — merely materialistic or commercial success. 
The effort to bring Ireland into the arena of the modern utili- 
tarian idea, will destroy the specific genius of the Irish people 
unless efforts are made to have them retain at the same time 
their own spiritual ideals. To save the Irish race from extinc- 
tion in its own country, material prosperity is not the only 
means needed. The language with all its mystery and weird 
enchantment must be kept in the heart and on the lips. Those 
stacks of ancient manuscripts in monastery and museum must 
be unearthed and submitted to translation and modern scientific 
research. The wild music with its plaintive minor chants must 
resound in the valleys of song, until fire, mist, dew, and water 
will be touched again with preternatural awe. The holy wells 
must dispense sweet water as of old. The torches of learning 
must be rekindled upon the mountains. The green ivy must 



igoj.] A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland. 747 

fall from the crumbling walls and the stones of the ancient 
abbeys spring to life again. All this is compatible with the 
admission of what is best in those words of music and of 
magic: "liberty," "progress." Material prosperity, however, is 
not the end but the condition of Ireland's future life. She was 
made for a higher purpose. The fear is that she will lose her 
ancient identity in the march of the modern spirit. The hope 
is, that selecting what is best in the new, she will still harbor all 
the glory of the old. "The wise householder bringeth forth 
treasures new and old." 

IRELAND'S HIGH CALLING AMONG THE NATIONS. 

Never so much as now do we need a nation of renunciation 
and vicarious suffering. Nations, as well as men, carry their 
crosses to the gloom of Calvary and atone for the crimes of 
other nations. "It is meet that one man should die for the 
people." " By his stripes we are healed." For twice three 
hundred years have the hands of the Irish people been lifted 
up in the attitude of prayer. Where if not in Ireland is there 
the historic perpetuation of the bloody atonement ? Where if 
not in Ireland is there the passion for martyrdom and retribu- 
tion for the sins of history ? Is not Christ's sublime philosophy 
of self-sacrifice best reflected in the shadow and gloom of her 
mournful career ? The very contradictions and follies of her 
people have become conditions out of which God has wrought 
His own spiritual purpose. 

"Every valley shall be filled and the rough places shall be 
made smooth, and that which is crooked shall be made straight, 
for all flesh shall see the salvation of God." 

THE GATHERING OF HER EXILES. 

Is it unreasoning optimism even to dream of that blessed 
country gathering to her wings her exiled sons and daughters ? 
"The Lord thy God will bring back again thy captivity, and 
will have mercy on thee and gather thee again out of all the 
nations into which He scattered thee before." From the days 
of the Babylonian captivity to this very hour the Jews have 
hoped and dreamed of taking up their national history at the 
point where they left it in the Holy City of Jerusalem. The 
inspired visions of the Hebrew prophets, the wail of the harp- 
ists in their exile, the sincerest music in the sublimest psalms 
are tinged with this secret thought. I am told by the learned 
that the ancient bardic music of the Irish is full of similar melan- 



748 A VISION OF Spiritual Hope for Ireland. [Mar., 

choly and vague yearning. There is some parallelism between 
the people which God chose in the older dispensation and in 
the new. All down through history have these two races kept 
through blood and sweat, Are and water, their high hopes. In 
spite of centuries of persecution there is still alive, in both 
races, the small flame that may relight " the altars " that have 
been " dug down," and the Hand not shortened may pile up the 
stones — those stones that have not been left one upon another. 
Ah ! were it foolish to hail these natural impulses of hope as 
an unconscious awakening of grace to the realization of the 
mission of God's chosen people ? Surely great mercies may be 
in store for races which have suffered so much. " If thou be 
driven as far as the poles of heaven, the Lord thy God will 
fetch thee back from thence. And will take thee to Himself 
and bring thee into the land which thy fathers possessed, and 
thou shalt possess it: and blessing thee. He will make thee 
more numerous than were thy fathers." 

THE SPIRITUAL AND THE MATERIAL. 

With all their genius for worry, such hopeful ideas are the 
heritage of the Irish people. Ireland bound with the fillet of 
divine misfortune on her brow looks from Calvary to the glim- 
mer of the dawning of the resurrection. In the face of such 
high hopes, however, the principle must not be forgotten that 
nations under God complete their own destinies through human 
means and along human lines, just as grace presupposes nature 
in the formation of character. Recognizing, of course, the prin- 
ciple of Providence, Ireland will be what Irishmen will make 
her. Again I repeat what seems to me the momentous problem 
for her, that of creating a civilization which will conserve the 
Irish race with its ancient ideals and at the same time will 
accept the licit possibilities of the modern inventive genius and 
material prosperity into that financially depressed country. Ah ! 
this is a vision and a theme for the neo-Celtic poet to behold 
and eternally sing of. This is the practical reason for the ex- 
istence of the neo-Celtic movement of to-day. This is a cause 
for which youth, beauty, love, and patriotism might die once 
again upon verdant fields and in the echoing valleys. Oh ! 
what a tremendous mission for a holy country — what a mission, 
for Ireland to hold fast to all the vivifying strength of her 
ancient spirituality and yet seize every opportunity for modern 
material advancement. This ought not to be difficult, for even 



1903.] A Vision of Spiritual Hope for Ireland, 749 

from the days when the fire of the Druids burned on the altars 
there was in this strange, distracted race a passion for the 
mystical and supernatural. Then, with the message of the new 
era of prosperity of modern progress, will come the inspiration 
of new life — thrift, temperance, and practical acumen. 

This, then, is the great hope among the hopes of the Irish 
nation. They are hopes so lively that they overshadow the 
fears — the fears we dare not think of, but dismiss as we would 
an unseemly thought. 

** Shall mine eyes behold thy glory, O my country ? 
Shall mine eyes behold thy glory, 

Or shall the darkness close around them, ere the sun^blaze 
Break at last upon thy story ? 

*' When the nations ope for thee their queenly circle, 
As a sweet new. sister hail thee, 

Shall those lips be sealed in callous death and silence 
That have known but to bewail thee ? 

" Shall the ear be deaf that only loved thy praises 
When all men their tribute bring thee ? 
Shall the mouth be clay that sang thee in thy squalor 
When all poets' mouths shall sing thee? 

" Ah ! the harpings and the salvos and the shoutings 
Of thy exiled sons returning 
I should hear though dead and mouldered, and the grave 

damps 
Should not chill my bosom's burning. 

** Ah ! the tramp of feet victorious ! I should hear them 
'Mid the shamrocks and the mosses. 
And my heart should toss within the shroud and quiver 
As a captive dreamer tosses. 

'' I should turn and rend the cerecloths, round me 
Giant-sinews I should borrow. 
Crying, * O my brothers, I have also loved her. 
In her lowliness and sorrow. 

" * Let me join with you the jubilant procession, 
Let me chant with you her story ; 
Then contented I shall go back to the shamrocks, 
Now mine eyes have seen her glory.' 



» »i 



750 



A Brother's Tribute, 



[Mar, 




fl Bl^OJItHBI^'S ©F^IBUTB.* 

VALIANT woman, rarely found ! 
Thy priceless worth to God alone 
And to the friends of Christ is known 

Where sorrow, pain, and want abound. 

How oft thy smile made glad Christ's poor, 
When fell disease and want were feared. 
How oft thy gentle voice has cheered 

The home from want through thee secure. 

Christ's poor had tears to weep fc>r thee, 
When death had stilled thy busy hand 
And labor, loved at Love's command, 

Had wrought the raiment fair to see. 

Sweetness and strength were thine to guide 
The falt'ring steps of childhood's years. • 
Th)' simple heart could feel youth's tears. 

Thy prudent mind the wanton chide. 

Thy work is done. Thy blessed days, 
So full of prayer, and work and pain 
For Christ, are ended, as I fain 

Would have mine end, in Christ's sweet praise. 



Go, Spouse of Christ, receive the crown 
For aye thy Lord prepared for thee. 
Thy work is done ! There's left for me 

Thy love from heaven looking down. 

O sister heart ! so true to me 

Through ev'ry change my years have brought: 

So loyal e'er in word and thought. 
When faintest hope there seemed to be 

•In memory of Sister Mary Syra, of the Sisters of Charity, who died December 12, 1900 » 
Principal of the Grammar School of St. Patricks Parish, New York City. 



1903.] A BROTHER'S Tribute. 

That prayer would win to better life 
My heart on worldly honor bent: 
Sister, thou wert my angel, sent 

To guard me, save me in the strife. 

A sister's love could Lazarus call 

Back from the mould'ring realms of death ; 
Could give his lifeless corse life's breath 

And make the tears of Christ to fall. 

Thou art with Christ, amid the throng 
That follow Him where'er He goes, 
Thtf throng that sing, as no one knows 

Save them that sing the virgin-song. 

And love for me has stronger grown. 
Thou knowest now how much I've cost 
The Heart of Him thou lovest most. 

Thou knowest now, as I am known. 

Then hope I still to have from thee 

A sister's loving, loyal care, 

A sister's never-failing prayer, 
To lift to heaven even me. 

O Child of Grace I for me thrice blest, 
I would not have thee back again. 
My joy, — thou hast nor grief nor pain; 

My hope, — to share with thee Christ's rest. 

Rev. , S.J. 



The Easter Redemption of a Soul. [Mar., 



THE EASTER REDEMPTION OF A SOUL. 

BY ETHEL T. DROUGHT. 

T was Palm Sunday in the City of Mexico. Out 
of the great cathedral poured the people as the 
deep-toned bell in the tower was ringing the 
hour of the midday Angelus. The ladies of high 
degree, followed by attendants . carrying their 
cushions, wore over their heads beautiful shawls of lace; the 
women of the poorer class covered head and shoulders with 
their many-colored rebozos; the men carried heavy silver- 
trimmed sombreros. Whatever a Mexican, man or woman, 
wears over the head, be it silk or cotton, even rags, it is 
always worn gracefully. Of all the vast congregation each car- 
ried a piece of palm. Among the faithful, it would be kept 
until the following Ash Wednesday ; by the many strangers 
who were there from curiosity, it was either thrown away, or 
kept as any other souvenir would be. One, a pretty Ameri- 
can, who stood near me during the last gospel, dropped hers 
and I picked it up. 

As the crowd emerged from the church, where the air was 
heavy with incense, and came into the bright, fresh siinshine, a 
sigh of relief was breathed. No story ever written from the 
beginning of time until now is more heart-breaking than the 
gospel read on Palm Sunday. To whatever land we go, in 
whatever church we are, it is always the same, and each year 
one's soul is stirred by Christ's agony. Beginning with that 
dreadful night on Gethsemani, when of all who loved Him not 
one would watch with Him for one hour — there for the first 
time His heart faltered and He prayed that the cup might pass 
from Him ; the next day betrayed with a kiss by one whom 
He loved and trusted; then at His trial, when He was struck, 
spat upon and mocked, a robber's life spared instead of His, — on 
the gospel goes, telling of His carrying the cross, being nailed 
to it, crowned with thorns, until at the ninth hour, so great 
was His suffering, that even His heart cried out for once against 
it: "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" But 



1903] The Easter Redemption of a Soul. 753 

soon that wonderful peace entered into His soul, He bowed 
His head, "Thy will be done." 

I knelt at one of the side altars, praying for the souls of 
those who would not pray for themselves, during the week that 
ends so gloriously in Easter. A few others lingered, busy with 
their beads; but nearly all had gone. As I walked through 
the Zocola and turned into the Calle de Plateros I saw, stand- 
ing, her back against a wall — despair in every line — a woman ; 
her long, jet-black hair hanging dishevelled over her shoulders, 
her skin of that wonderful whiteness seen so often in Ireland, 
her eyes almost black with their deep blueness. Her clothes, 
which had been fine and were of this country, were worn with 
a grace that even their threadbareness could not destroy. 
There she stood with all the despair and grace of Mary Mag- 
dalen before was said to her, "Arise, thy sins are forgiven 
thee." In her eyes was a look that stopped me; it was half 
defiant, half appealing, as if her very soul was starving. She 
looked first into my eyes, then at the palm in my hand. Fol- 
lowing an impulse, I stopped. "Would you like a piece of my 
palm ? " I asked. " I have enough for two." In the sweetest, 
richest voice, after a minute's hesitation, she said " Thank 
you," and took it as though in spite of herself. With an ache 
in my heart I passed on, returning to the house where I was 
staying. 

To any one with an impressionable, artistic temperament, 
even though they are not in sympathy with the beliefs of 
the Catholic Church, the ceremonies of Holy Week must 
appeal strongly. In Mexico there are many quaint old cus- 
toms, now rapidly disappearing before the march of progress, 
which will be sadly missed by those who care, for the old 
rather than the new. On Holy Thursday the Sacrament is 
carried from the main altar and put on another, where it is to 
remain until Good Friday morning, when it is taken from the 
church altogether, and the little lamp that always burns before 
it, is put out. It is from the decoration of the altars at this 
time that one can know the class of people who worship there ; 
and it is the poorer ones that appeal to me most, with their 
crude paper flowers, the little toy animals, pieces of needle- 
work ; their dressing of the statues in impossible clothes, all very 
poor in a way but with a deep pathos, for it is their best, 
given with the deepest devotion ; and who can give more ? 



754 The Easter Redemption of a Soul. [Mar.^ 

Even St Peter's with its wonderful mosaics cannot be more 
acceptable in the sight of God. It is the custom on Thursday 
for all classes, arrayed in all the bright colors they possess, ta 
go on foot from church to church, making an offering in each; 
praying with hearts full of joys or sorrows, asking for help in 
this world or grace to gain the next; each bearing its o^w^n 
burden ; many with aching hearts, thinking of the last Holy 
Thursday, of the sins and sorrows that have come into their 
lives ; some with hope for the coming year, some with only 
despair. Then comes Good Friday, with the solemnity and awe 
of that day. Again go the faithful, dressed in deepest black, 
the women wearing veils over their faces, to kiss the cross. 
The feeling of being in the actual presence of death takes pos- 
session of one. The altars are draped in black, the lights are 
out, no bell or organ is heard during the whole day. 

On Thursday morning as I passed through the Calle de 
Plateros, on my way to the cathedral, I met the same woman 
going in the opposite direction. She recognized me immedi- 
ately ; I knew by the look in her eyes. " You are going the 
wrong way this morning," I said; "do come with me." Her 
eyelids quivered, the lines about her mouth became hard, she 
shook her head and passed on. All day long I walked from 
one church to another; with all my heart did I pray for her, 
hoping to see her. 

Good Friday afternoon I went again to the cathedral to 
spend those three hours in prayer, trying to realize what they 
must have been on that terrible day so many centuries ago. 
As the clock in the tower tolled three, every one knelt in abso- 
lute silence, for at that hour, on that day, do we ask for the 
three things most desired. Then the Stations of the Cross, 
which tell the story of the journey to Mount Calvary, were 
said. After that men and women came and went, kneeling 
awhile, but still I prayed on, for my heart was full of trouble, 
and my burdens seemed greater than I could bear. 

It was nearly four o'clock ; I raised my eyes, my heart 
beat fast, for kneeling near me was the woman I had first seen 
on Palm Sunday. Her hands were clasped in front of her, woe 
was in every line, in her eyes agony; not the suffering that 
has softened, that has repented, that has said "Thy will be 
done." In her heart never once came the thought that the 
bitterest drop in Christ's cup of bitterness was, that Judas died, 



1903.] THE EASTER REDEMPTION OF A SOUL. 755 

repentant, but fearing to ask forgiveness. On she prayed 
through the second hour ; in* her heart rebellion, with every 
beat fighting fiercely against all on earth and in heaven. She 
grew paler and paler, her eyes grew darker, her nails were 
pressed into the flesh. The end of the second hour came. 
Still she prayed on, her eyes dry and bright, perfectly uncon- 
scious of the moving mass around her, dead to all the world, 
alone with her God. It was the beginning of the third hour. 
The sky began to darken, from far off came the sound of the 
coming storm ; but not once did her head move, or her eyes 
cease to look towards the tall black cross on which hung the 
figure of the dying Christ. The air grew heavy, weariness 
almost overcame me, I had pains in every limb ; still I would 
not move, would not leave her until she had fought out her 
fight, and the end had .come. Nearer and nearer came the 
storm ; many left the church, but still we knelt there ; she un- 
conscious of me, my whole being wrought up to the highest, 
my whole soul crying out in prayer for her. Would she never 
yield ? Would she ever rebel against the justice of God ? 
Would she still refuse His love and tenderness ? 

The clock tolled again, the last hour was half gone. White as 
the marble altar, her mouth set, her eyes still dry and defiant 
— would she fight on to the very last ? The earth became 
wrapped in darkness, peal after peal of thunder rolled. Those 
of us who had remained felt indeed in the presence of the 
greatest tragedy that ever happened, or can ever happen. The 
cold perspiration stood on her forehead, her body was almost 
exhausted, but her strong spirit had not yielded one inch ; re- 
bellion was in every curve of her beautiful face and form. The 
storm increased, it was nearly six o'clock, and the church was 
so dark that all was indistinct, even the cross ; then for one mo- 
ment, just as the clock tolled that the end of the last hour had 
come, the sun burst through a cloud, through a window, and 
shone full for an instant on the figure on the cross. Worn as 
all were who had watched with Him during those three hours 
of agony, strained as was our every nerve, a thrill swept through 
us from head to foot, as the figure stood out as if in life, and 
one almost heard the words ring through the church, " It is 
finished ! " 

I had taken my eyes for that brief instant from the face of 
the woman ; as I turned her body swayed, a wild look of pain 



7s6 The Easter Redemption of a Soul. [Mar., 

came into her eyes, her hands went quickly to her heart — a 
long, dry sob — the sun on the 'cross was gone, all was black 
again ; she sank on her face to the floor in a deep, deep swroon. 
I sprang to her as quickly as I could, but not before two men 
had reached her. With the tenderness of women they lifted 
her up. " Follow me," I said, and led the way out of the 
dark church. Calling a carriage, they put her into it; I sup- 
ported her as best I could, gave my street and number, and 
was driven there. She was still unconscious when we arrived, 
and I began to be seriously alarmed. Calling for assistance, I 
had her carried to my apartments and laid on my bed. 

The Mexicans are the kindest, gentlest people I have ever 
known. A doctor was summoned for me, and after some time 
she opened her glorious eyes; into them came a look of fear, 
then she looked into mine for an instant ; I smiled and put my 
hand gently on hers ; her eyelids quivered, a faint smile, a long^, 
deep breath, and she slept. 

" She will be all right now," said the doctor. *' She has a 
serious heart trouble; here is some medicine to give her when 
she awakes; if she has another attack, send for me again." 
He stopped at the door: "By the way, madame, how did you 
happen to know her ? " 

" I don't ; she fainted in church ; I did not know what else 
to do, so brought her here." It seemed almost disloyal when I 
added : ** Do you know who she is ? " 

** Well, yes ; did you ever hear of , the old scoundrel ? 

Poor thing ! " With a few more instructions he left me, and I 
returned to the bed. 

She was sleeping heavily; so I lighted a candle, arranged 
the room, and settled myself to watch by her through the night. 
Toward morning I fell into a light sleep. When I awoke her 
eyes were open and looking at me in the same hungry, appeal- 
ing way that attracted me the first time I saw her. I moved 
nearer and took her hand. " You fainted in church, so I 
brought you to my rooms to take care of you until you are 
well." 

" Why should you care ? No one has cared for so long "; her 
lips quivered. 

*' God put it into my heart to help you, for I am sure you 
need a woman's sympathy." 

She caught my hand in a strong, firm grasp, a grasp that 



1903.] The Easter Redemption of a Soul. 757 

satisfied me that caring for her was worth while, were there 
never any other proof of it. She went to sleep again, was 
more quiet this time, and did not awaken until morning. I 
then coaxed her to take some nourishment, and she again 
slept 

All day Saturday I remained with her until nearly dark, 
when I went again to the church. " Here is a little prayer- 
book I will leave by you until I return ; let it keep you com- 
pany ; it is a book that I love dearly, and it has been a help 
and comfort to me in my days of hardest trial. Keep it if 
you care to, and may it bring you the peace it has brought to 
me. 

She had only spoken a few times during the day ; now she 
shook her head and sighed. "There can never be any peace 
for me," she said. 

" I will at least pray for you," I answered as I went out. 
On my return a tenderer, gentler light than I had yet seen was 
in her eyes, and her lips smiled a welcome. The night passed 
quietly and we both slept. 

The next day was Easter, and a glorious Easter it was ! In 
spite of the heavy fine imposed by the government for the ring- 
ing of church bells, every bell in the city rang out the triumph, 
" Christ is risen ! " The sun was bright, and from earliest morn- 
ing the streets were full of people in gayest holiday attire. My 
patient seemed entirely over her attack, and ate some breakfast. 
I asked her to go to church with me, but she shook her head. 
" There is no Easter in my heart, will never be ; I cannot 

go- 

" You went on Good Friday." 

** Yes, but that is different ; for me Calvary has no Easter." 
I tried to talk to her of Christ's love and tenderness and 
forgiveness, if she would only accept it. The same hard, de- 
fiant look came into her eyes, her lips became set, her hand 
went to her heart ; for a moment she was silent, then was 
wrung from her the cry of the suffering, struggling soul : " O 
God, if I only could ! if I only could ! Sometimes I could ; then 
comes the thought of my child. O my child ! my poor deformed 
child ! How can God's justice visit the sins of the parents on 
the children ? Never, never will I say, * Thy will be done ! ' 
Oh ! that I had never been born. Why did no one help me in 
that terrible hour? — in all the world there was not one to tell 



7S8 THE EASTER REDEMPTION OF A SOUL. [Mar., 

me, no one to help me ; and I did not understand, and for all 
eternity will suffering be. No, no ! don't talk to me of resigna- 
tion. Repent ! yes, I have repented ; in the bitterness of death 
have I repented. Who does not, when all temptation is over 
and only suffering left ? " 

I saw that the excitement was making her worse, so tried 
to soothe and quiet her, sorry that I had spoken. Putting^ a 
little worn rosary into her hand, the prayer-book beside her» I 
pressed my lips to her forehead and left her. The Mass ^vas 
very long; but my thoughts were much more with her than 
with the grand ceremonies of the day, though the music -was 
beautiful enough to uplift one beyond the sins and sorrows of 
the world. 

As soon as possible I hurried home. Opening the door 
softly, for fear she might be asleep, I stood a minute on the 
threshold ; an iron band tightened around my heart. I could 
not breathe. She was gone ! The fatigue and strain of the 
week was too much for me. I sat down and cried bitterly. 
Looking up, I saw on the cushion pinned a note; opening it 
eagerly, I read; 

'' Please do not think me ungrateful. Indeed, indeed I am 
not. Your kindness has been as food to a starving man. God 
will reward you. I could not stay. You knew not what you 
did, in trying to keep me; it was impossible. I have taken 
the prayer-book and rosary. I thought you would not mind, 
and they mean so much to me. I will keep them while I live, 
which will not be long I know. I leave the city to-day. For- 
give me for all and pray for me. — Madelaine." 

About six miles from the City of Mexico stands the old 
Monastery of Carmel of the Angels. Since the confiscation of 
church property by the government it has become the beauti- 
ful estate of Don Mariano Galvez. On the estate are many 
picturesque Indians and peons who have kept some of their 
quaint customs and ceremonies, which, while they are not 
recognized by the church, have not, as yet, been forbidden. 
Here is still the beautiful church of the monastery, dedicated 
to Mary Magdalen. On the Thursday after Easter, which is 
her feast day, great basketsful of red poppies are gathered by 
the natives and carried in a procession through the grounds 
and into the church, then up to the choir loft and the gallery 



t903.] THE Easter Redemption of a Soul. 759 

that is built around the walls of the church. During the Mass, 
at the elevation of the Host, these poppies are dropped slowly 
down to the floor below. For the three days following Easter, 
I remained at home tired and sick at heart, for never in all 
my life had any human creature appealed to me as strongly as 
did Madelaine; and to think she was alone, rebellious in heart 
and soul, with only a short time between her and that day 
which must come to all of us, that day when we stand face to 
face with God ! 

Very early Thursday morning I left the city to go to the 
Church of Mary Magdalen, anxious to see this quaint custom 
of dropping the poppies, and to study this type of Indians and 
Mexicans in their gentle simplicity. In came the women 
dressed in skirt and chemise, rebozos gracefully covering head 
and shoulders; little children with their straight brown limbs 
and soft dark eyes, wearing one scant garment ; men with 
serapes hanging from their shoulders, and large sombreros on 
their heads — all carrying various- sized baskets full of the most 
beautiful red poppies, to be taken to the galleries. Many with- 
out flowers knelt on the floor of the church near the altar. 

Then the Mass began. The priest was an old man, a 
Spaniard, his life of devotion to his work written in every line 
of his face, as with the loveliest, softest voice he intoned the 
Mass. I knelt rather to one side, where I could watch the 
faces of those above me. One attracted me strongly. It was 
a tall man of seventy. His hair snow-white, in his eyes more 
intelligence than is usually seen in one of his class; poorly 
dressed, yet wearing his clothes with the air and grace of a 
prince. The expression of the mouth and eyes — yes, and nose 
also — told his story, which was certainly one of wrongs; but 
he had endured long and well, and peace had come in the sun- 
set of life. It would soon be his time to lay down all burdens ; 
but they had been borne so long, life would seem empty with- 
out them. His lips moved in prayer, his eyes never left the 
altar, his strong, Arm hands rested on a tall basket full to the 
brim of the flowers he must have spent hours in gathering. 

The priest chanted on, the Gloria was sung, the prayer 
" Cleanse my heart and my lips, O God ! " was said, the gos- 
pel was read, also the preface, and the preparation for the sac- 
rifice of the Mass was begun. Then through the church 
sounded the bell, full and soft, telling that now was the bless- 



76o THE EASTER REDEMPTION OF A SOUL. [Mar., 

ing of the bread. Those in the galleries put their hands in 
their baskets, gathered them full of poppies, and at the second 
bell, slowly, gently floated down, through the soft, dim light, 
through the air full of incense, these beautiful red poppies. 

I watched the face of my old man as he dropped his, and 
instinctively my eyes followed the flowers as they fell. My 
heart stopped ! Surely that woman in deepest black, covering 
head, face, all with a soft black shawl, — surely I knew it, yet 
it seemed impossible, until a white hand drew the covering 
closer; then I knew. My whole thought and attention was 
now given to this old man and this young, beautiful woman. 
She was kneeling just under him, so that all his flowers must 
fall on her. The bell rang again, he let fall more poppies ; they 
settled gently all over, around her. More and more fell ; the 
Host was elevated, we all bowed low; the shawl fell from her 
head, off her shoulders, but she knew it not ; her hands covered 
her face, her glorious black hair became loose, and hid her like 
a veil, and still the old man, unconscious of what he did, un- 
conscious of all but the Divine Presence, praying with heart 
and soul for some one, something, dropped his flowers, now 
with both hands, down, down on this woman. Her body was 
convulsed with sobs, the tears trickling through her fingers, 
abandonment in her whole being, weeping out her inmost soul; 
the tenseness which grief without tears always brings was gone. 
Over her head, shoulders, arms, her entire body lay these 
crimson poppies, brilliant against the black, she not even know- 
ing they were there. 

The Mass went on, time for Holy Communion came ; the 
bell rang three times, " Lord, I am not worthy to enter under 
thy roof: say but the word, and my soul shall be healed." A 
long, long breath, a quivering of a soul leaving a tired, weary 
body, her head sank down, and she was still. 

The Mass was soon over and the people left. The old man 
still prayed on. I watched them both. Finally, as with a 
peaceful sigh he crossed himself, he looked down on this kneel- 
ing woman. I motioned him to come to me, which he did, 
and without a word we together went to her. I knew before I 
touched her that it was death. In one hand was my little 
worn rosary; in the other, crumpled and wet, was a leaf from 
the prayer-book ; on it a little prayer ending " Thy will be 
done ! " 



1903.] A PEN Picture of English Life. 761 




A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE IN THE SIXTEENTH 

CENTURY. 

BY WILLIAM SETON, LL.D. 

T was a winter's evening near the end of the 
year 1566, and gathered around a fire which 
was burning on the stone floor of a large, roof- 
less building were about a dozen men and women 
whose tattered garments and pinched faces told 
that they knew what it was to be cold and hungry. 

'' Grandpa, did you really know this place when it was not 
a ruin ? " spoke a young woman, who was clasping a baby to 
her breast. 

At this question a shrivelled-up human being — you might 
have taken him for a mummy, and who was crouching almost 
in the fire — lifted his bald head and said : '* Ay, Lizzie, I did 
know Durham Abbey when 'twas as fine a building as there 
was in the whole kingdom. Why, was n't I born within bow- 
shot of its towers ? And did n't our forebears work a holding 
of ten acres which belonged to the monks for more genera- 
tions than I can tell ? " 

" And where be all the monks now ? " continued Lizzie as 
she drew her cloak tighter around the baby. Before her grand- 
father could answer another voice — 't was the cracked voice of 
a very old woman — cried out : " Look ! Look ! There they go. 
Those flying, whirling leaves be the monks, and the wind is 
King Harry blowing them away." 

" Grandma is dreaming again. She does be always dream- 
ing of King Harry the Eighth. And mayhap you remember 
him too as well as Durham Abbey ? " said Lizzie. 

" I do indeed, and his six wives too," answered the old man. 
" 'Tis scarce twenty years since he died. But let 's rouse 
crazy Dick, as you call him, and make him tell us the story of 
the past hundred years. Richard Godmund is a scholar, and 
what he says will help to keep us warm in this cold wind." 

So saying her grandfather tossed a little stick at a person 
sleeping a few feet away, and then Richard Godmund drew 

VOL. LXXVI. — 49 



762 A PEN Picture of English Life. [Mar., 

the hood from off his head and asked what they wanted of 
him. It did not take much coaxing to get Richard to speak. 
Misfortune had affected his mind somewhat, but his memory 
was pretty good ; he was fond of books, and he had opinions 
of his own about men and things which he was not backward 
in expressing. 

" Well, a good deal of what I know of past times," he be- 
gan, " did come to me from my father, who did get it from an 
old great- uncle who was a monk and who lived to be over a 
hundred, and my father did repeat the story to me when I was 
a boy on his knee. And you must know that my father, who 
had travelled in other lands, did have odd notions which he 
did put into my own head, and there they '11 stick while I live. 
But the day will come when folks will say my father's notions 
were right notions. Men's troubles do be mostly of their own 
making. God did give us eyes, but we do not see with them ; 
and He did give us hands, but we do not use them ; and 
when I behold a flock of sheep driven this way and that way 
by a dog, I do say to myself, 'Verily, that is what most men 
are — sheep.*" 

" Ha ! ha ! you do make me laugh. But go on," said 
Lizzie. 

•* Well, instead of laughing you 'd better be crying. For ye 
do all have crooked views about the high-born and low- bom, 
the workers and the idlers. And the rights which the good 
God did give to ye, ye do not hold fast to. Look at ye here 
this winter's evening shivering among the ruins of Durham 
Abbey. What brought ye to this bleak spot? Isn't it be- 
cause Sir William Cecil — one of the brand-new families, who 
did never win his title by a battle-axe — did drive ye away from 
what he calls his manor ? His manor, forsooth ! And ye de- 
parted like so many sheep. He wanted to turn the little hold- 
ings, which ye had tilled for years and years and years, into 
grazing land.* And indeed the sheep that '11 soon be grazing 
on your little farms will be just as heroic animals as ye be." 

Here Lizzie laughed louder than before and declared that 
he made her warm by his talking. 

'* Well, another notion which ye call odd and which I did 
get from my father, and like enough he did get it from his 
great- uncle, the monk, — another odd notion is that one of these 

•Gibbons, Industrial History of England, Period IV. chap. i. 



1903.] A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 763 

days a Pope will appear who will preach to the world a new 
crusade, the crusade for a Christian Commonwealth. He will 
preach that the poor folks are not to be used like sheep. And 
then monarchs like King Harry the Eighth, who did overturn 
our shrines and our monasteries, and who did give away the 
best land in the kingdom to upstarts, to new nobles — monarchs 
like him, I say, and other monarchs too, will take off their golden 
crowns and become members of the great Christian Common- 
wealth at whose head will be the Pope." 

" Good ! good ! May that day soon come," exclaimed several 
voices. 

" It will come one of these days," went on Richard Godmund. 
" For I believe in visions, and my father a week before he died 
did behold in his sleep a Pope whom all the kings had aban- 
doned. Yet the Pope was stronger than the kings because he 
did put his trust in the people. But my father did not tell me 
the name of this great Pope, so I cannot tell it to you." 

*' Very, very interesting," said Lizzie, who half believed the 
dream might not be all a dream. " But now tell us how far 
back your father's story did go." 

"Well, thanks to what his great-uncle did relate to him, my 
father was able to tell me something about King Edward IV., 
whose mother-in-law, the Duchess of Bedford, was accused of 
being a witch.* Bloody times those were — battles and behead- 
ings without end — for there was civil strife 'tween the families 
of York and Lancaster, and my father's great- uncle did say 
that King Edward IV. being jealous of his own brother, the 
Duke of Clarence, did have him drowned in a cask of Malmsey 
wine." 

At this Lizzie's grandfather laughed, and declared that he 
wished he had some of that wine to drink. 

** But as it always happens," went on Richard Godmund, 
*' it did matter not a jot to the poor folks of the kingdom 
which side might win in the strife ; they were plundered alike 
by Yorkists and Lancastrians. But bad as those times were 
and bad as these times are, my father, who was a scholar and 
who had travelled, did tell me that we English folk were in 
some ways better off than the people of other countries ; for 
we do have trial by jury, and stiff-necked as our kings do be, 
yet their grip on us is not absolute, and our upper folk do 

• Lingard, Kdward IV., note. 






764 A Pen Picture of English Life. [Mar., 

have something to say in making the laws.* And my father 
did tell me too that the monks were just landlords, and that a 
poor man might be sure of a gentle word and something to 
eat when he knocked at the monastery gate. But when Henry 
VIII. became king, which was a little more than fifty years 
ago, there came a change for the worse in every part of the 
kingdom. This king did marry six wives, and two of them did 
have their heads chopped off." 

" Oh, I wonder me how any woman did dare to take him 
In wedlock ! " exclaimed Lizzie. 

"Well, Harry VIII. did rule his wives with a switch," con- 
tinued Richard Godmund. " But a Cardinal did rule him. Ay, 
Cardinal Wolsey was a minister the like of whom England had 
never seen before. Why, foreign princes did settle annuities 
on him in order to gain his good will, and the Pope, 'twas 
Leo X., did grant to him the revenues of two bishoprics in 
Spain.f Yet we must be just and confess that this Cardinal 
Wolsey was a good patron of literature, and he did often save 
the poor folk from being wronged. But his ambition was with- 
out bounds, and be did crave to be elected Pope, and the 
Emperor Charles V. — he who was also King of Spain — did 
promise to use all his influence at the conclave to have him 
chosen Pope when Leo X. died. But if Cardinal Wolsey's am- 
bition was as broad as the earth, so was the king's ambition. 
King Harry VIII. did crave to become a renowned warrior. 
But to wage war he must have money ; and where was the 
money to come from ? Well, a bright idea did enter the king's 
head ; and this bright idea was to seize all the land which be- 
longed to the monks — and the monks did hold ab9ut one-fifth 
of the land in the kingdom. And this plan he did carry out ; 
and a great deal of the money from the sale of the monks' 
lands he did give to courtiers and favorites, who did gamble it 
away like fools." 

" And did the people have nothing to say when King 
Harry VIII. took away the monks' land ? '' said Lizzie. 

'* Oh, in more places than one they did rise up ; J and 
when Cardinal Wolsey's agents did turn the monks out of the 
Abbey of Beigham, a multitude of poor folk did assemble with 
painted faces and did bring the monks back to the abbey, and 

•Lingard, Edward IV.. note. t Lingard, Henry VIII. 

t Green, History of the English People, vol. i. p. 426. 



1903.] A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 765 

they did tell them that if they were molested a second time to 
ring their big bell and then they would come again to the 
rescue.* But what made matters worse was that Cardinal Wol- 
sey's agents in Rome had told the Pope — 't was Clement VII. — 
downright lies about our English monks. Now, some of them 
may have been bad; and among so many this is not to be 
wondered at. But most of our monks were good monks and 
were very friendly to the poor folk, and my father saidi 't was 
a pity the Pope did not come to England to see with his own 
eyes and to hear with his own ears what was being done 
against the old religion, instead of staying always in Rome and 
having lies told to him." 

" But did the Parliament do nothing to oppose Cardinal 
Wolsey and the king ? " said Lizzie. 

"Alas! the Parliament did have very little will of its 
own," .answered Richard Godmund. " And even the representa- 
tives of our old-time families did uphold the king in what he 
did, for King Harry had adroitly won them over by gifts of 
money gotten from the sale of the monks' lands. But after a 
time this great minister, Cardinal Wolsey, did fall from grace, 
and in his place did come a much worse man, Lord Crom- 
well, a man with nothing noble in his nature, but most crafty, 
and who did play on the king's vanity — for as King Harry 
waxed in years his vanity did grow like his body, big and 
barrel- like. And now. there were more beheadings than ever, 
and many poor folk — like a kinsman of mine — who did use 
their tongues against this Cromwell, were put in the stocks in 
midwinter.f And I do remember my father telling me that 
while my kinsman was shivering in the stocks, a stranger did 
approach and make him laugh by telling how the queen — 
*t was Queen Anne Boleyn — had flown into a high rage because 
she had discovered one of her maids, a young woman named 
Jane Seymour, sitting on the king's knee.J Now, the king not 
long afterwards did have Queen Anne Boleyn's head chopped 
off, and he did then wed this Jane Seymour, who had been 
sitting on his knee. But, as you know, we all must die in the 
end, and so did King Harry VIII. die. And then his son, 
Edward VI., became king. Now, during this king's reign — and 
some of ye must remember it well, for *t was only about fifteen 

• Dom Gasquet, Henry VIII. and the linglhh Monasteries, 
t Ibid. \ Lin.sTard, Henry VIII. 



766 A PEN Picture of English Life, [Mar., 

years ago — the poor people did again rise up against the new land- 
owners, who were making them pay more rent for their hold- 
ings than the monks had made them pay. And an army of 
twenty thousand of them, led by a tanner named Ket, whom I 
knew, did make a good stiff fight against the king's soldiers, 
who were mostly foreign mercenaries, Italians and Germans. 
But despite their hard fighting they were cut down by the 
German horsemen, and then in a short space there was a gibbet 
in almost every hamlet and more hangings than you could 
count. Ay, the poor folk did rue it for daring to go against 
their new landlords. But one of these days we shall get the 
better of the landlords and the kings, and then the earth which 
the good God did create will — ." 

Here his words were cut short by a voice saying: "Come, 
come, my poor people, 'tis a chilly spot this to be sitting and 
chatting ; come with me, and Fll give ye a snug resting place 
for the night." Lizzie was the first of the hungry group to rise 
up and follow the strange gentleman, who carried an arquebuse 
on his shoulder, and there was a powder-horn dangling from his 
waist. Nor were they long in reaching Sir Robert de Granville's 
abode; a house the like of which they had never been in be- 
fore, it was so spacious and elegant. It was built of bricks in 
place of stone, and it had four chimneys and glass windows, 
and the floors were covered not with rushes but with carpets, 
and in the chamber where Sir Robert told Lizzie that she and 
her child might rest there was an immense feather bed with a 
big feather pillow, and she had never yet placed her head on 
a pillow. 

Hare let us observe that carpets, glass windows, and pillows 
marked a distinct improvement over the old-time homes of even 
the richest families, and almost the only thing in Sir Robert de 
Granville's house that was not new was a suit of armor which 
hung in the hallway But this might be called old, for it had 
been worn by his forefathers at Cressy and Poitiers, and also 
at Agincourt. But perhaps quite as interesting as the armor 
was a painting opposite, which represented Durham Abbey in 
its prime. And when Lizzie's grandfather saw this painting he 
exclaimed: "As I live! 'Tis Durham Abbey just as I knew 
it when I was a boy." 

" Well, a distant kinsman of mine was one of the last monks 
who lived there," said Sir Robert. 



1903] A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. ^6^ 

"And when will the monks come back to us?" inquired 
Lizzie. At this question the gentleman shook his head, but 
made no reply. 

** Well, I have n't laid eyes on a priest in ten years," spoke 
Lizzie's grandfather. 

"And I haven't heard Mass in all my life," said Lizzie. 

" Well, to-morrow morning you shall see a priest and hear 
Mass too," said Sir Robert, "for I have a chapel in my house, 
and once a month a priest comes here; he comes to bring me 
a load of wood." Here the gentleman smiled. "Yes, a load 
of wood ; and his disguise is so perfect that none of Queen 
Elizabeth's priest-hunters have been able to tell him from a 
wagoner." 

" Well, one of these days our churches will be given back to 
us and the priests will not go about in disguise," put in crazy 
Richard Godmund. " For did n't my father have a dream — " 

" Oh, hush ! Talk none of your foolishness to this fine 
gentleman, who is so good to us," interrupted Lizzie. 

"But it isn't foolishness," persisted Richard. "Kings and 
queens will one of these days take off their golden crowns, and 
then they will belong, like every man and woman, to the 
Christian Commonwealth which a great Pope is gomg to preach. 
And then the old religion will come back to us, and — " 

" Now, you must stop your foolish talk," said Lizzie, press- 
ing her hand over his mouth. Then turning to Sir Robert de 
Granville, " I do fear," she said, " that some day this poor fellow 
will hang on a gibbet for his wild speeches." 

"Well, in these times 'tis dangerous to be too outspoken," 
answered Sir Robert. " But I do admire his bold tongue, and 
come what may we must have courage for the sake of the old 
religion." Then dropping his voice he added: "But are all 
these people who are with you of the same mind as yourself 
about religion ? " 

" Not one of my friends will betray you," answered Lizzie. 

" Well, I put faith in what you tell me," said Sir Robert. 
And with this he flung open a door which led into the largest 
room in the house, and in this room was a table with many 
good dishes upon it, and Lizzie's eyes opened never so wide as 
she looked at the dishes and at the numberless candles, and to 
her innocent eyes the scene appeared to her like fairyland. 

When the repast was finished Sir Robert was again ap- 



768 A PEN Picture of English Life, [Mar., 

proached by Richard Godmund, who had something more to 
say to him about nobles and kings. But Sir Robert was the 
first to speak. " My good friend," he began, as he placed his 
hand on Richard's shoulder, ''bad as things may be to-day in 
the Kingdom of England, good will come out of it all, for 
humanity is not going backward ; it may seem to be, but it is 
not. I believe as you do, that one of these days the old re- 
ligion will return and we shall be none the worse for a little 
persecution ; to make a penny bright you must rub it. Only 
let us be brave and willing to suffer. And now I shall tell 
you something which mayhap you do not know. About two 
centuries ago the poor people in many parts of England did 
rise up to assert their God- given rights, and one of my fore- 
fathers, I am happy to say, did espouse their cause. Well, the 
uprising of 1381 was put down; nevertheless, it did bear good 
fruit. It was a sign of self-respect and independence on the 
part of the toilers — of the ones who earn their bread by the 
sweat of their brows — and the spirit which prompted the peas- 
ants to rise is not dead, 'tis only smouldering. Our Parlia- 
ment may not be what it ought to be; still it is a Parliament 
in which the people's voice does at times make itself heard, 
albeit the voice is not overloud. But the day will come when 
'twill speak louder, and then our kings will find that they are 
not our divinely appointed rulers. Moreover, 't is only by com- 
parison that we may know what things truly are. 

"Now, I have visited other countries, and I am convinced 
that we are better off than the 'people of France and of Spain. 
In France the people have been more harassed than we have 
been by bloody wars. Did we not ourselves harry them for a 
good hundred years*? We remember only our victories and 
forget the numberless villages we burned and the thousands of 
widows and orphans we made during those hundred years. 
Well, thanks a good deal to the miseries which we, or rather I 
should say our kings, did inflict on the peasants of France, 
their spirit of independence, their Christian aspirations, appear 
to be utterly crushed, and they do wear on their faces the look 
of dumb animals. In Spain, too, the spirit of national sover- 
eignty, which at one time animated the people, has disap- 
peared; their town meetings are no longer held, and the Par- 
liaments of Castile and of Aragon have been destroyed. 
Now, the decadence of the Spanish folk did begin with the 



1903.] A PEN PICTURE OF ENGLISH LIFE. . 769 

one-man-power of the Emperor Charles V. and of his son, 
King Philip II. If in our country the state is trying to absorb 
the churchy the state in Spain is aiming to do the same thing. 
There they have what is called a Grand Inquisitor, who does 
stalk about in the name of our holy religion ; but 't is in truth 
the kings who do back him up in his baneful work, for he 
does the police work for royalty. Now, nearly all the woes of 
Spain and of France do come from this one- man- power of the 
kings; and this one-man- power must at all hazards be de- 
stroyed, for 't is petrifying the very soul of the people. But I 
do believe we English folk have something in our natures 
which will not bend very long to the yoke which the kings 
are hanging round our neck; and let me tell you, Richard 
Godmund, that in my inmost heart I do be of the same mind 
as yourself about the coming of a Christian Commonwealth. 
And in that Commonwealth the diflFerent nations, while govern- 
ing themselves, will all be gathered into one religious fold — 
the fold of the old religion of our forefathers. I am the last 
of my name ; no De Granville will ever see the Christian Com- 
monwealth ; but — " 

Here his words were interrupted by a loud knocking on 
the main door and you heard the sound of many voices out- 
side. Presently the door opened and Sir Robert de Granville 
found himself a prisoner. We need not describe the grief and 
confusion which followed his arrest ; it was a not uncommon 
scene in those days. We merely add that Sir Robert was 
shortly afterwards confined in the Tower of London and his 
trial was brief. He was declared guilty of having had masses 
celebrated under his roof and of harboring priests, and as he 
stubbornly refused to acknowledge the ecclesiastical supremacy 
of Queen Elizabeth, he was beheaded. Let us, who are living 
in happier days, not forget the ones who died that the old re- 
ligion might live. 




"IXON-ROLLKT. 



IN the ancient town of Bruges, 
In the queer old Flemish city," 
lived the Netherlandish painter, where 
" The belfry old and brown — 
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded — 
Ever watches o'er the town." 

Little is told us of the life of Hans Memling but that, be- 
tween the years of 1425 and 1495, he lived and died in 
Bruges — 

" Quaint old town of toil and traffic. 

Quaint old town of art and song. 

Memories haunt thy pointed gables 

Like the rooks that round them throng." 

He was a pupil of Roger Van der Weyden, the Tournai 
painter who was so thoroughly a realist. Van der Weyden's 
art is entirely religious and full of a passionate sulTering. He 
is said never to have painted a smile, and his treatment of 
shadow appears to have come from a close study of sculptured 
bas-reliefs. Memling, though his pupil, does not seem to have 
copied him in subjects, however much his style may have re- 
sembled that of his master. Figures better drawn, more natu- 
ral hands and feet, more careful attention to ckiarooscuro and 
perspective, softer outlines and truer light and shade, give 
Memling the palm over Van der Weyden, though the former 
is inferior to his master in the painting of draperies and in 
brilliancy of gold work. 

In spirit, however, is felt the greatest dissimilarity between 
the two painters, for in the paintings of Hans Memling is found 



1903] The Paintings of Hans memling. 



Tke Belfbv of Bkuces. 
the greatest sweetness of expression, especially in his Madonnas, 
and his feeling for grace and refinement is far greater than is 
common with the Flemish artists. 

Vasari mentions him under the name " Ausse " or " Havesse " 
— Italian perversions of his Flemish name — and he is one of 
the most noteworthy of the fifteenth century Netherlandish 
painters. 

His subjects are varied, and all are endowed strongly with 
his own peculiar characteristics. Among the best known of 
Memling's works are "The Adoration of the Kings," "The 
Crucifixion," and " King David and Bathsheba " ; but perhaps 



772 The Paintings of Hans Memling. [Mar., 

the most interesting, though not the most beautiful, is a large 
altar-piece in the Church of Our Lady at Dantzig, portraying 
the " Last Judgment." 

The composition of Memling's picture on this subject is 
finer than that of Van der Weyden, and the severity of the 
subject is in parts tempered by the refinement of Memling*s 
handling. The strong point of the picture is its contrast, and 
this is admirably executed. 

In the central portion of the triptych is enthroned our 

Lord — 

" With calm aspect and clear, 

Lightning divine, ineffable, serene," 



calmly grave of expression, seated on a radiant rainbow, a 
great golden ball for his footstool. Behind him is the flaming 
sword of Divine Justice, while four lovely angel- figures, float- 
ing aloft, bear the instruments of his passion. The Blessed 
Virgin kneels at one side, St. John Baptist at the other, and 
the twelve Apostles are grouped about, stately figures with 
fine heads, their flowing robes well painted. Below stands St. 
Michael, a glorious knight- militant in golden armor, his wings 
beautiful with peacock feathers. 

" In stature, motion, arms, 
Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven," 

he holds the scales, weighing the good and the bad. At one 
side of the triptych is the way of the Blessed, where St. Peter 
welcomes them, and 

" A glorious company, men and boys. 
The matron and the maid, 
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice. 
In robes of light arrayed." 

Radiant is the sight of those redeemed souls as with floating 
garments they sweep up the golden stairs toward the Gate 
Beautiful. Wonderful is the contrast to that other side, where 
the lost souls, finding not a blessed future, are tortured accord- 
ing to the vigorous mediaeval ideas of hell, a place of physi- 
cal torture so intense as to well-nigh work madness. 

The work is supposed to have been painted in 1467, from 
the number 67 painted upon a tombstone in one corner. It 
formed part of the lading of a ship chartered by Signor 



1903.] THE Paintings of Hans memling. 



Tomaso Portanari of Bruges, and captured by a privateer of 
Dantzig in 1473. It is not only one of the most important 
works of Memling still extant, but it is considered one of the 
chefs-d'auvre of the Flemish school. 

Scarcely less in importance is a picture, now in the Munich 
gallery, painted for Pierre Bultynck, a currier of Bruges, who 
presented it to the chapel of his guild in 1479. It was for- 
merly in the Boisseree collection, and is painted in the manner 
of the "Adoration" at Turin, that small but perfect piece of 
altar painting, which represents the passion of our Lord from 
Palm Sunday to the meeting with the disciples at Emmaus. 



774 THE PAINTINGS OF HANS MEMLING. [Mar, 

The Munich picture is long in form, and represents the 
principal events in the life of the Blessed Virgin. Not sepa- 
rated into compartments, as the stiff old Flemings loved to 
paint their altar-pieces, this picture is one soft, continuous 
landscape, all the events united into a harmonious whole, exe- 
cuted with great elegance and beauty. The Annunciation, 
Visitation, Incarnation, and Adoration are all blended in a 
scene of rare beauty. The picture combines religious feeling, 
natural beauty, and a certain quaintness indicative of the age. 
Our Lady is portrayed in every detail with the grace and 
beauty that characterize Memling's women. 

Very different from these huge canvases, with their multi- 
tudinous figures, is a picture at Bruges — the portrait of a young 
man. Curious is the costume of rich dark Flemish cloth marked 
out in Genoese velvet, with huge collar, a vest and laced 
sleeves after the fashion of the day. The head is slightly bent 
forward, the dark hair parted and waving lightly on the shoul- 
ders, framing a strong, ugly face with deep eyes and heavy 
nose and mouth. An open book lies before him — one judges 
it to be a breviary — and the hands are folded in a prayerful 
attitude. Through an open window one catches a glimpse of a 
beautiful landscape, with a silvery stream cutting the green 
sward like a sword ; a fine tower is standing guard against the 
sky. A stained-glass window shows a delicate bit of work. 
Upon a noble charger sits good St. Martin of Tours, clad in a 
splendid scarlet cloak which, according to the legend, he is 
cutting in two to share it with the beggar at his feet. From 
this we conclude that the " Jeune Homme," of whom Memling 
painted so strong a portrait, was named Martin in memory of 
the saint who looks down upon him so bravely from the ex- 
quisitely painted window. 

Not less interesting is a portrait in the Antwerp Museum 
of *' A Canon of the Order of St. Norbert." Nothing could 
exceed the charm of this painting. The straight lines of the 
habit and the severe simplicity of the figure but serve to 
heighten the interest of the face, so full of earnestness and in- 
tense devotion, and asceticism not at variance with its great 
sweetness. Few of Memling's works are more admirably exe- 
cuted, and none but his Madonnas breathe a more religious 
spirit. 

The galleries of Ber'lin, Munich, Turin, the Uffizi, _the 



1903] THE PAINTINGS OF HANS MEMLING. 



Louvre, the National Gallery, Brussels, and Antwerp boastTpic- 
tures of Memling, but none are quainter than those in St. 
John's Hospital at Bruges. Here is the famous shrine of St. 
Ursula, a Gothic chest four feet long, made as a reliquary for 
an arm of the saint and martyr, famous with her eleven thou- 
sand virgins. The c/iasse is elegantly wrought and the exterior 
is covered with miniatures in oil by Memling. Enclosed in a 
Gothic arcade is painted the history of St. Ursula, the pictures 
portraying her landing at Cologne, her embarkation at Basle, 
her arrival in Rome, where she is received by Pope Cyriacus, 
her second arrival at Basle, and her martyrdom. 

These small pictures are among the best of the Flemish 



776 THE Paintings of Hans Memling: [Mar., 



s Rbckpiion a 



school. The drawing is excellent, there is no Dutch stiffness 
or angularity, no Flemish grossness ; the movement is free, the 
coloring soft but powerful, the expression lofty. Perhaps the 
best of the St. Ursula series is the painting portraying her at 
Rome. The Holy Father receives her standing, surrounded by 
his priests and bishops, in the portico of a church. In the 
distance are the columns, pillars, and noble arches of ancient 
Rome, while still further distant one catches a glimpse against 
the blue Italian sky of where 



.1903.1 THE Paintings of Hans Memling. "m 

'' The mournful pines of the Campagna wave 
A solemn requiem o'er some forgotten grave." 

Surrounded by her maidens, the little saint^ serene in youth- 
ful beauty, kneels upon the marble steps arrayed in rich, 
princely robes, a filmy veil over her floating, dark hair. Her 
figure is slender and maidenly, her face almost childish in its 
sweet simplicity and earnestness. The pictures ^are painted with 
that close attention to detail which marks the best of Mem- 

. ling's work. The chiaro-oscuro is marvellous, and the painter has 
grouped his figures with especial skill, seeming- to know in- 
stinctively where the white cowl of a monk should interpose 

. against the dark robes of the soldiers. 

But excellent as is most of Memling*s Work it is as a 
painter of the Blessed Virgin that he excels. His Madonnas 
have none of the fleshy beauty of Rubehs; nor the grosser 

* hues of many of the Fleniish school. They are natural, sim- 
ple, sweet; influenced by no school, for Memling seems to 
have painted from a holy, simple heart, attuned to reverence 

* and devotion. 

In the Louvre, '* The Madonna in the Garden " is a sweet, 
gentle maiden^ with flowing hair framing a lovely face. She 
holds an open Bible; the Christ Child is on her lap, with St. 
Michael standing guard. Near by is a friar kneeling reverently, 
and a lovely kneeling angel playing a mandolin. The back- 
ground is peculiarly ' Memlingesque, with blooming flowers, a 
verdant meadow, the silvery thread of a winding stream, and 
in the distance a Dutch galleon with all sails set. 

Somewhat similar in style and composition, though different 
in detail, is the '' Madonna and Child " at Darmstadt. The 
Blessed Virgin, holding our Lord and a book, is seated on a 
throne-like chair, her draperies rich and graceful, her sweet, 
modest face framed in soft, dark hair with rays of light radiat- 
ing from it. The Baby Christ is a charming little figure, with 
wisdom and grace in his lofty features, with their unchild-like 
gaze as if he saw visions beyond earthly ken. At one side 
the throne are tall, willowy angel forms, while, half-hidden by 
a rich curtain, a shadowy figure of St. Cecilia plays the organ 
in an attitude of exceeding grace. 

Another painting similar in design is the " Madonna and 

Child *' in the Uffizi in Florence. This picture is more elabo* 
VOL. Lxxvi.— 50 



THE Paintings of Hans Memling. [Mar., 



rate in detail, and it is worked out with a carefulness of finish 
equal to some of the lovely paintings of Fra Angelico. The 
Blessed Virgin is enthroned on a dais, a rich carpet beneath 
her feet, her head resting against an embroidered curtaiti, above 
which six charming cherubs drape festoons of flowers. Through 
the open windows one sees the usual Memling landscape — 
meadow'land, a superb castle, a hamlet half-hidden in trees, 
while in the far distance gleams a small stream. At one side 
of the Blessed Virgin kneels a stately angel form, the lines of 



1903.] The Paintings^ of Hans Memling. 779 

the draperies wonderfully graceful, the hands touchiag the 
strings of a golden harp. Uppn the farther side another angel, 
violin in hand, holds an apple to the Christ Chil^, who 
stretches out his baby fingers to it in a most natural, cliild-like 
manner. He sits upon his mother's lap, a very sweet, innocent 
baby, though not with the wisdom of some of Memling's por- 
trayals of the Child God. Our Lady clasps Him close within 
the shelter of her gentle arms, and though not the most beau- 
tiful of Memling's Madonnas, she is one of the most graceful. 
Her figure is almost hidden under the heavy velvet robe draped 
around her, yet there is much of graceful dignity in her mien,^ 
and a sweet gentle sadness in her face, as if 

"The certainty of Grief is in her eyes. 
And that she once was glad, she scarce believes." 

In Bruges there is a Madonna enshrined in a Gothic arch, 
her form outlined against rich stained -glass windows, which is 
very beautiful after the gentle type of Memljngesque beauty. 
At her side are two snowy-clad nuns, Dominicans. The picture 
is remarkable for the unusually well-handled light and shade, as 
well as the sweetly wise expression of the Christ Child^s face. 

Sweetest of all Memling's Madonnas is the one at Genoa, one 
of the most charming pictures ever painted, pregnant with a 
certain sweet naturalness and home- likeness which appeals 
strongly to the heart. As the Virgin Enthroned, or in her 
Assumption, Our Lady is all glorious, even " more than paint- 
ing can express," but in the simple scenes of ' the daily life 
there is a pathos which seems .to bring nearer to our hearts 
this lovely flower of Galilee. She is seated in her own home 
beside a deal table, where are all the simple implements of her 
daily life — a book, a work-basket, a vase of flowers. Holding 
her little Son upon her knee, she is in the act of feeding him 
his morning porridge, while a spoon, a knife, an apple, and a 
crust of bread lie upon the plate. The Baby Christ is very 
child-like, yet the halo is about his curly head, and his face 
wears an expression of earnest thoughtfulness, as of pondering 
upon things not known of men. Our Lady is most sweet and 
graceful, very touching in a sort of girlishness: Her hair, soft 
and light, floats about her shoulders, modestly covered with a 
coif, Flemish fashion. Her brow is broad and open, the eyes 
downcast under snowy lids, the lips exquisitely curved, the nose 



78o The paintings of Hans memung. [Mar., 



straight, the chin fQund and dimpled. The figure is slight and 
lightly garbed in a dark frock of simple texture ; the hand and 
arm are exquisitely moulded, with delicate, tapering fingers. 
The expression is full of a wistful sadness as if, through all the 
mother's joy, in serving her first born, there is the overhanging 
cloud of that beloved One's grqat and awful destiny, and 

" In her heart, 
Knife-edged, the Seven Sorrows 
Wake and start." 

This picture is by far the most expressive of Memling's paint- 
ings of Our I^dy, and evinces the hand of one who painted 



1903.] A Moonlight Symphony. 781 

" When Art was still religion, 
With a simple, reverent heart." 

This painting of Our Lady seems to stand alone. 

"Time with stealthy hand has put to shame 
The tints of many a canvas rich of yore," 

but this picture is as bright to-day as when Memling's artist 
hand lingered lovingly upon it. Following no school, it shows 
no traces of Memling's master, nor the influence of any of his 
contemporaries ; rather is it the sudden stroke of genius attuned 
to holy, heavenly spirit, and unique in his day and land for 
purity, gentleness, and highest nobility of soul. 




A MOONLIGHT SYMPHONY. 

(On Lake Huron.) 
BY LOUISE F. MURPHY. 

HRO' tall, dark pines the pale moon drifts her light 
Into the forest's depths, where timid deer 
May rest in quiet with no startling fear 
Of dread pursuit. On Huron's waters white 
The moonbeams tread a waving pathway bright 
To unseen wooded islands. Soft and clear 
The low, sweet murmurs echo far and near 
The rhythmic cadences of dreamy night. 
Now gently glides upon the gleaming foam 
An Indian sail-boat to some shadowy home; 
Bright show'rs of diamonds break upon the shore. 
And from the moon- lit lake comes o'er and o'er 
A strange wild song in changeless minor key, 
The strains of some weird Indian melody. 



782 Soul- BLINDNESS. [Mar., 



SOUL-BLINDNESS. 

BY REV. JOSEPH McSORLEY. C.S.P. 

IHYSIOLOGISTS, in reporting their experiments, 
tell of a curious phenomenon called psychic 
blindness, which occurs when a certain portion 
of a living animal's brain [has been extirpated. 
The animal in this condition, although it sees, 
walks, or swims with perfect mechanical precision, appears to 
have lost its normal power of discernment. It will make no 
attempt to seize food placed within easy reach and, if con- 
fronted by one of its natural enemies, will manifest not a sign of 
fear — a pigeon, for instance, walks into the very jaws of a cat 
without the slightest hesitation. In short, the activity displayed 
is merely reflex and unintelligent. The animal, although a good 
automaton, is nothing more. While it can see, it is utterly unable 
to recognize or interpret ; for the objects within its field of 
vision present no familiar aspect and hence convey no significance 
to its dulled intelligence. 

Now, something analogous to this phenomenon may be 
observed in human beings. The facts which suggest the analogy 
are all the more remarkable, moreover, because not induced by 
external interference with normal faculties, but occurring in 
persons whose senses have been perfectly intact from birth. In 
other words, many of us are lamentably deficient in the power 
of intelligently interpreting objects thrust upon our notice quite 
closely; and further, the very sense-powers we do possess are, 
to a considerable extent, deadened by disuse. What the human 
eye and ear are capable of, the red Indian has taught us ; and 
the blind daily give us a wonderful object-lesson on the powers 
latent in our fingers. Nay, without going to any alien or ab- 
normal type, we may obtain as strong a contrast as we need by 
merely comparing an average citizen with one whose capabilities 
have been highly developed by training — with a watchmaker, 
for instance, or a gardener, or a pianist. There is no reason 
whatever for doubting — indeed, there is every possible reason 
for believing — that ordinary every-day persons are perfectly 



1903.] SOUL'BLINDNESS. 783 

capable of acquiring what we have grown acdustomed to con- 
sider the remarkable skill peculiar to the classics named. Yet 
this, if we stop to reflect upon it, will be found to imply such 
mortifying admissions that, for very shame's sake, we feel inclined 
to declare either that the gardener is more than normal or that 
we are less. 

For, from the undeniable truth that the average boy can be- 
come an average craftsman, we draw the evident implication of 
amazing dulness and idleness on the part of persons who are help- 
less as babes the moment there is question of fine observation or 
dexterous work. Universal possibility of sense-development, if 
it be true, declares the common man to be fairly saturated with 
unrealized potencies and inert faculties ; and, though this may 
not appeal to us with any great force while we are adverting 
only to the question of manual skill, we are likely to experience 
considerable regret when we go on to reflect that probably we are 
perceiving but half of what God gave us power to see, and under- 
standing only a trivial portion of what He wished us to know. 
If the eye was made for seeing and the mind for understand- 
ing, then certain faculties must have atrophied in the case of 
the many who go through life so unfamiliar with the beauty 
and truth and goodness that God created in order to lead men 
nearer to himself. And shall we escape all penalty if we spend 
our days blinking out upon life, like great stupid owls that 
stare sleepily at things of deepest import to themselves? 
Evidently not; since even though we are not forced to answer 
for all our ignorance as for an avoidable and therefore imput- 
able defect, yet we shall at least be punished thus far, that our 
souls will ever remain less perfect than God planned them to be. 

True, it would be unreasonable to contend that a lesser 
good may not be forsaken in the interest of a greater; nor can 
it be reckoned a fault if beings of limited capacity pick out 
and choose from among many possible activities certain ones 
which are to be cultivated at the expense of others. Forest- 
rambling on gay spring mornings and meditation beside a 
starlit mountain-lake may become impossible exercises for in- 
numerable souls enmeshed in the complexities of civilization. 
Yet even though their choice has been wisely made; and even 
though a greater has been substituted for a less; it still holds 
true that a lesser good has been foregone and that some 
unrealized possibility has to be lamented. More symmetrical 



784 Soul-Blindness. [Mar., 

development would have fulfilled the 'divine purpose more 
thoroughly, and would more truly have resembled the type 
eternally abiding in the Creator's mind ; since other things 
being equal, the man whose faculties are most perfectly culti- 
vated must be the man most pleasing to God. 

That this may be the more evident, let us direct our atten- 
tion to activities intimately connected with the attainment of 
human nature's noblest aim, the knowing and loving of God. 
So many of us drift along the current, unconscious of the scenes 
we pass, that at least some measure of soul-blindness may be 
anticipated in almost every one. Few, if any, use senses, mind, 
and will in the way and to the extent intended by the Divine 
Artificer when, creating the human soul to know and to love 
Himself, He gave it a body and an earthly life as helps in 
the fulfilment of this supreme commission. The world around 
us was made, be it remembered, to display the glory of God. 
In the shining of the stars, He showed forth the light of His 
countenance, and hinted at the ardor of His love through the 
blazing noonday sun. Far out in the dark abyss of endless 
space the testimonies of His omnipotence were fiung ; and His 
thought realized itself in the ordered movement of the myriad 
spheres. Light and color, harmony and form issued from Him 
as rumors and shadowings of things beyond man's power to un- 
derstand. In morning's sweet approach and evening's solemn 
close, in the glad return of spring-time and the saddening 
change of autumn, men learned something about their Maker. 
The radiant woods of October, the livelier plumaged birds of 
May, and the giant roses of June, each caught and reflected a single 
ray of His surpassing beauty. " Flock and herd and human face 
divine," clothed with mystery since first life stirred upon the face 
of the deep, in all the intervening ages have discoursed marvel- 
lously of God to those who care to listen. Yet how few consider 
the birds of the air or the grass of the field; how few inquire 
of these concerning Him who made them ! How few, like St. 
Francis, praise God to the dumb creatures, or commune, like 
St. Augustine, with the stars of midnight while they speak of 
God ! Who runs with weary feet and panting bosom in quest 
of holy truth, examining, sifting, comparing, striving to see if 
haply he may find more of God ? And where is the constant 
soul that exercises heart and will in loving, as God loves, both 
man and bird and beast ? Yet : 



1903.] Soul-Blindness. 785 

He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things both great and small, 
For the dear God who loveth us 
He made and loveth all. 

Let us confess it; soul-blindness hangs over us like an im- 
penetrable cloud ; andy because we are blind, much of the time 
we are unthinking and unloving too^-dull, cold creatures with 
the flame of life trimmed low and the waters ever at an ebb. 

A walk through the fields with a botanist would perhaps 
arouse any one of us to a painful consciousness of limitation 
and ignorance. He sees so many things, where we see so 
few ; and in each of them he finds so much more than we 
could find. Myrtle and honeysuckle whisper shy confidences 
to him in a tongue unintelligible to us; sweet fragrance is 
breathed into his very soul and wafts him away to the land of 
dreams and poetry where the flowers unfold life- histories before 
him like chapters from a creation-old romance. Meanwhile we 
ordinary mortals feel strangely awkward at the proximity of the 
new world thus suddenly brought to mind; and we begin vainly to 
lament that our eyes have been so poorly trained and that our 
soul is so helpless to see or to praise these wonderful works of 
God. In another way, the same truth comes home again, 
when we stand beside the astronomer as his telescope sweeps 
the jewelled night revealing a whole universe of beauty and 
mystery unfamiliar to us ; and again, when for the first time we 
look at the myriad life in the water-drop mounted beneath the 
biologist's magic lens. Over and over we are borne down by 
the sense of our narrowness — being irresistibly impelled to con- 
trast our own apathy with the keen delight of the artist before 
a line of paintings, the violinist listening to the symphony, the 
poet as he threads the forest or stands at the water's edge, 
lifted up in spirit by the amber beauty of the evening sky; 
Manifestly these lives are nobler than ours. 

A far deeper reverence is awakened when we encounter 
souls who are sensitive not only to the beauty of Nature but 
to the personal presence of Nature's God. Such lives as these 
persons lead appear to be passed outside the limits of our 
world, up on the heights where essential goodness and truth 
and beauty dwell. For them, though called by many names, 
the great Reality underlying each partial manifestation, each 



786 Soul-Blindness. [Mar., 

individual appearance, is God and only God. His and His 
alone is the peace- compelling dawn and the blaze of sunset 
glory, the softened colors of twilight and the throbbing evening^ 
star; the tones of His voice echo in the wood-bird's song, in 
the river's chanting, in the music of ocean wave; the dew is 
from Him, like the early and the later rain, like the snow en- 
shrouding the lifeless fields, like the darker green upon the 
winter cedars, like the budding leaves that obey the impulse of 
returning spring ; from Him are life and strength and love and 
length of days ; from Him come penitence and hope and holi- 
ness and the glad assurance of eternal rest. There are some 
who keep mindful of all this; who are steadily sensitive to the 
sights and sounds that recall it ; who go about through the 
livelong day without ever losing their consciousness of a divine 
presence, or forgetting the relationship of God to man. " Deus 
meus et omnia" rings in these souls like a ceaseless refrain 
chiming in harmony with the rhythm of heart-beat and respira- 
tion. Heaven's choirs are nearly audible to them ; the glory of 
God is shining round about them; they are loving with a 
mighty love strong as death and deep as hell. Each created 
thing they meet brings them some new message concerning its 
source ; brook and flower and star and stone and soul of man 
seem to have burst into this existence fresh from an upper 
world, not in utter nakedness, but "trailing clouds of glory." 
Meanwhile, within is a constant touch, like the reassuring pres- 
sure of a gentle hand, telling of One Friend who will never 
leave nor forsake His own. It is His mind that has planned. 
His will that has fashioned all. The senses perceive the moon's 
chaste light and the violet's fragrance, the falling waters and 
the lark that soars and sings ; and at once the mind recalls how 
each of these shows forth the measureless goodness and love of 
God ; for patient effort has succeeded in linking the thought 
of Him with every common object and every experience of 
daily life. By this means has the curse of blindness been 
charmed away ; God has been brought again to reign visibly in 
His heaven ; and all has been made right with the world. 

In the secular branches of knowledge called science and art, 
progress is insured the moment men learn that their defects are 
remediable. It remains to be proven that they will display similar 
energy in regard to matters spiritual. One fears lest those who 
are striving so diligently to perfect their powers of observation 



1903.] SOUL'BLINDNESS. 787 

and appreciation, may be less enthusiastic about the correspond- 
ing development of spiritual sense and religious feeling; or, to 
take another point of view, lest cultured minds — even if Catho- 
lic — that have been trained to fine mental accuracy may be content 
to remain very dull indeed, with regard to things of divine im- 
port. The varying lessons of the liturgy may continue to pass 
unheeded; Prayer and Gospel and Introit with their heart- stir- 
ring messages of resistless inspiration may remain unfamiliar 
still ; the majestic harmonies in which during long centuries the 
Church has chanted forth to God the strains of human plaint 
and human praise may swell and sink unnoticed. Perfect 
methods of training will possibly obtain for generations before 
attention will be turned to the spiritual aspect of life's oppor- 
tunities. Only the few will know the suggestive symbolism of 
rite and ceremony; only the few will remember the history of 
God's saints; only the few will thrill with a sense of the deep 
meaning of the Morning Sacrifice — although in very truth a 
vigilant soul might mount heavenward up these steps like the 
visioned angels upon Jacob's ladder. But the " blind " never 
see the rays of glory that are streaming in through sanctuary 
pane ; nor watch the flickering altar-light rise and fall as it 
sighs out its life there in the dusk so near to God ; nor read 
the divine romance writ on the faces beside the entrance of the 
dim confessional ; nor feel hot tears well up as the white-robed 
little ones pass by on their way to learn for the first time how 
truly and tenderly Jesus Christ has loved them. ' 

Life would be so infinitely richer to us did we but cultivate 
a keener sense of spiritual and religious beauty. Like the cease- 
less play of solar light upon a planet, like the ever heaving 
central sea, God's love is pressing steadily on mind and heart 
and will at every moment, could we but realize it. Around us 
lies a whole world of creatures clothed with divine suggestive- 
ness, appealing to us constantly, yet almost in vain, to draw 
from their measureless stores of love and wisdom and enrich 
our own. How different our days would be were we thus made 
wise, were God's ennobling shadow thus thrown across the swift- 
flowing current of thoughts and sensations on whose surface we 
are floating our lives away. As to the difficulty of so living, we 
may be sure it is not insuperable; a mind might embrace all 
this varied content and yet reserve amply sufficient energ^y for 
necessary practical affairs. The skilled pianist achieves a far 



788 Soul-Blindness. [Mar., 

more remarkable feat in his faultless execiM!(<Tn of a thousand me- 
chanical niceties while attention is tttiXxti exclu^vely upon 
expression and technique. At the beginning of spiritual growth 
we cannot measure the extent of our poS9ibiI»tte» any more 
than the pianist could during the scald- practising period of 
development; yet we may very reasonably bdicre that our 
minds are going to prove equal to the task of performing what 
they were originally destined for and are now invited to win. 
Though not, like Adam, in possession of all the powers and 
privileges of integral humanity, still we are essentially sound 
and nothing needed for the attainment of spiritual excellence 
will be wanting to us. 

But apart from the question of acquiring ^n adequate g^asp 
upon the supreme realities, at least some sort of attention to 
the invisible world is as indispensable to spiritural fulness of 
stature as food is to bodily health. Life, in whatever form, 
must always be nou/ishing and renewing itself. When we have 
trained our senses to observe and our minds to interpret the 
thousand gleaming fragments that reflect God into our lives so 
frequently, then only shall we be capable of keeping the divine 
fires aglow within us. This purpose the whole world of matter 
has been created to subserve ; and the whole wide realm of 
scientific truth as well ; and the fruits of speculation and the con- 
clusions of experience also ; and the teachings of religion likewise, 
— these last, of course, being by far the most proper and necessary 
nourishment of aspiring souls. Thus alone shall we grow adequately 
in eternal life, in the knowledge of God and of His Christ — having 
learned loving sympathy for all things made, having acquired a 
habit of spontaneous and unselfish affection for whatever approaches 
within range of our observation as related to God. Thus we 
shall come to employ an entirely new scale of values, to inter- 
pret appearances as sensual men can never interpret them, to 
know the world to some extent as God knows it. And, at 
least in part, we shall finally thus win back man's primeval power, 
and set creation rig' t again by putting it beneath the feet of 
Him who hath restored it all. 

Why should such a habit of mind seem too much to be 
asked or hoped for? Surely faculties were given to be de- 
veloped and exercised, and in their exercise to lead us God- 
ward; surely truth is given to be made fruitful and not to be 
hidden in a napkin ; and the very fact that our souls respond 



1903.] Soul-Blindness. 789 

to this Kiibfime ideal is suf&cient proof that the means to attain 
it will «o1; be wanting, that its pursuit is an obligation rather 
than an impossibility. 

Inspiring hope ! Pas3ed through this magic change, all 
things become stepping-stones to God, as from the beginning, 
indeed, they were intended to be. For the ultimate end of all 
the various elements of this great universe is the same. Through 
all the world, from worm to star- dust, one controlling purpose 
runs. The "flower in the crannied wall" holds the secrets of 
God and furthers His ends no less truly than the storm of 
light which whirls across the heavens to lose itself in extra- 
stellar space ; and the deepest significance of each is in the 
message it bears concerning its source, that infinitely fertile 
Bosom from Whom every being, created or uncreated, sprang. 
All truth again, whether imparted by the simplest statement 
of the smaller Catechism or by the sublimest doctrine of the 
Summa Theologica or The Ascent of Mount Carmel, has the 
same generic end — it is a means of divine union and it is in- 
tended to be studied, pondered, lived. For never will creatures 
fully effect their ultimate purpose until, swinging the soul of man 
out beyond the stress of finite longings into the calm haven of 
rest, they- bring it to safe anchorage at last in the deep, peace- 
ful truth of God. 

It may be noted here that most of us should attend far 
more than we do to the spiritual significance of revealed doctrine. 
On our mind*s portals beat steadily the great dogmatic teach- 
ings of the Faith — the Eucharistic presence, the Commemora- 
tion of Calvary, the Communion of Saints, the Indwelling of the 
Holy Spirit — and what do they not suggest ? Yet commonly 
we give little heed while they cry out ; and see naught though 
they flash wonderful visions before our eyes. Why, almost at 
any point we could strike away from the common walks into 
these thick clustered truths, with the certainty of coming upon 
paths that lead to rich and pleasant pastures. Once this fact 
has been brought . to our attention, once the stimulus that 
dogma gives has been carried up over the threshold of con- 
sciousness, a new world will be revealed, and there, according 
to individual taste and need and ability, each man can 
wander at will. 

An instance of these precious opportunities is our chance 
to become familiar with the person of our Blessed Saviour by 



>-- 



790 Soul-Blindness. [Mar., 

means of painstaking study of His life. Ordinarily verse and 
chapter that have been falling on our ears since childhood 
remain quite empty of significance for us ; - or recall only hazy 
allusions to far away and faintly pictured events. A relatively 
trifling amount of care would change this state of things altog^ether 
and put us in possession of a spiritual treasure. Had we an 
accurate idea of the general sequence of the life of Christ and 
a little knowledge of Judea and Galilee, so that at will we could 
reproduce the Gospel story in a rich and suggestive setting, 
the words and things encountered from hour to hour would 
then recall sacredest memories; white-walled town and blue 
lake-water, grassy plain and stony wilderness and roadside- 
well, palm and fig-tree and thorn-bush and field of com, 
would bring holy thoughts to mind. Imagination would leap 
up at the very mention of Thabor or Genesareth, Capharnaum, 
Bethsa'ida, or the Mountain of Temptation. When dull at times 
of prayer, we could retrace the steps of Christ's pilgrimag^e, 
going over again in spirit whatever has been recorded concern- 
ing Him. So, for example, we could spend a fruitful hour 
musing upon the first year of His ministry : how in January He 
was baptized, and after the Temptation returned to Galilee to 
do " great things " at Capbarnaum and to change water into 
wine at Cana ; how at Jerusalem, during the Passover, He drove 
the hucksters from the Temple, and comforted Nicodemus, and 
preached in the southland for many months ; how, later, He jour- 
neyed north, meeting the Samaritan woman at Jacob's Well, and 
after His repulse from Nazareth went to Capharnaum to live near 
the ruler's son He had raised up ; and then, how in the months 
preceding the Pasch, He travelled about, calling disciples, freeing 
the possessed, healing the fever-stricken woman, aiding the dis- 
heartened fishermen, curing the sick man, the paralytic, the leper. 
Fill in these rough outlines, and how gloriously suggestive a 
series of pictures we obtain ! Similarly the two following years 
provide a store of spiritual nourishment for a life-tifne. 

If we have never yet attempted any exercise of this sort, 
then we lack a very precious aid to holy living. On our lips 
the blind-man's prayer might find fitting resting-place — Domine, 
ut videam ! Lord, that I may see, — that my senses may be- 
come keen, my mind open, my heart aflame ; that I may be 
alive to the deep meaning of all that comes from God ; that 
Christ may be a familiar figure to my imagination; that I may 



1903.] SOUL-BLlNDNESS, 791 

live over again with Him the scenes of His earthly life; that 
His consoling words may re-echo in my ears and His teachings 
penetrate my soul ! • 

After all, what is " meditation " but just such an intent 
study of Christ's life and teaching carried on methodically and 
directed to the immediate awakening of the soul's deepest emo- 
tions? What is "affection" but the steady upward flight to 
God of fire-tipped arrows of human longing ? What is ** con- 
templation " but the absorbed attention of a lover who has for- 
gotten self in the vision of the Beloved ? If in the natural 
order fatuities can be developed by persistent striving, why not 
likewise in the spiritual? Truly there is no bar to our indulg- 
ing in such' an aspiration. Beyond a doubt we can grow deli- 
cately sensitive to the ' impact of God's being upon ours ; we 
can thrill with a lasting consciousness of the indwelling Holy 
Ghost ; we can nourish eyes and soul upon' this wondrous 
world that the Father has created and the Son of Man recon- 
secrated by His bodily presence. The glowing rainbow and the 
sheen of starry waters, the gorgeous skies of summer and the 
neutral tints of autumn, the field of fragrant blossoms and the 
blue above the trees can move us to prayerful mood; the 
swelling of ocean-tide and the menacing rush of angry storm- 
clouds can recall' the majesty of God; the sfniling lips of 
innocent childhood and the graver beauty of maturer age alike, 
can arouse within us new reverence for the great Unseen that 
we have learned to look upon as very close and very dear. 
" Domine ut et ego videam " ; for then will life resemble what it 
might have been had not the first man sinned and cast away 
his race's splendid birthright. 

If it be given the pure of heart to see God, conversely it is 
true that those who «ee God ofteo, will be pure of sooL 
Fineness of spiritual discernment and nobility of conduct are 
reagents. The spirit always throbbing with love and faith and 
admiration, can scarcely stray far from the heights where alone 
a satisfying view of beauty and truth and holiness is obtained. 
So, too, the contrite soul, swept by consuming fires of shame, is 

* The making of such a prayer necessitates, of course, serious co-operation on our part. 
That co-operation might take form of ^ study of the Gospels in connection with a book, like 
Fouard's Christ, tJU Son of (^^cf (Longmans), Gigot's New Testawunt History (Benzigers), or 
Elliott's Life of Christ (Columbus Press). We might go over the sacred narrative and the 
commentary again and again, studying maps, marking sites of villages and routes of travel, 
getting the approximafiC date and proper setting of our LoFd-'s miracles and sermons. 



792 Soul-Blindness. [Mar., 

likely to discover that its once commonplace world has become 
radiant with hitherto unsuspected splendor, and to be moved to 
cry out: " This only I know, that whereas I wa* blind, now I see." 
So again in the desolation of an awful grief the suffering soul per- 
ceives — with more than natural clearness-Mhat the pain is but " the 
shade of His hand outstretched caressingly " ; and understands 
the comforting words that have been spoken by a voice from 
heaven^ though to the bystanders it seems only to have thun- 
dered. For whosoever is used to the sight of God is enabled to 
dispense in part with the tedious processes of logic and to ex- 
change cumbersome demonstration for intuitive perceptions which 
distinguish easily between good and evil, truth and falsehood, light 
and darkness. Amid the saddest gloom such a mind discerns 
that the hand which strikes is a divine one, and that the words 
of chiding have been uttered by the dear voice of God. There- 
fore he presses on unerringly while others pursue their devious 
ways unenlightened, having heard a noise indeed, but having 
comprehended nothing and seen no man. And if paradoxically 
it happens that the pure of heart themselves do sometimes turn 
away from God's revelation, we have only to investigate and we 
shall surely find that the truth from which they shrink has in 
some way been distorted or made unlovely, or shorn of those 
accompaniments of graciousness and holiness which belong to it 
by right divine. 

Since the possibility of sense cultivation has been realized 
whole races of men are rising up, trained to <Jo what hitherto 
only genius could attempt. Mayhap in the spiritual order like- 
wise, education is destined to achieve startling results. People 
are coming to appreciate so truly and to regret so keenly the 
missed opportunities of life, and educators especially are growing 
so vehement in their denunciation of neglect, that a general 
reawakening seems not far off; and when it comes, conditions 
may be so largely amended that only in rare cases here and 
there will it be true that human lives are but half lived. With 
the application of scientific methods, individuals will be studied 
more accurately and latent powers developed more carefully, so 
that the child — thus runs the hope — will develop abilities far 
beyond what has been possible in the past. In the coming age, 
therefore, the race should be more capable and more worthy of 
lifting its song of praise to God ; for surely, acquaintance with 
visible things must draw men on to thought and knowledge of 



1903-] SOUL- BLINDNESS. 793 

invisible things; and surely, other conditions being equal, none 
can be so pleasing to God as the man of perfect culture. 

This gleaming prospect, however, shows an attendant shadow 
of regret in souls who seem to have learned the lesson vainly 
because too late. Yet indeed to none is it utterly useless, since 
for none is improvement altogether impossible. Although in 
youth we have not been trained as we now wish ; although age 
or other circumstances make it at present impossible to recover 
faculties long withered away ; still undoubtedly all of us can profit 
by the discovery of truth, no matter how tardily discovered. In 
some measure we can live our lives more fully ; to some slight 
degree we can develop sensitiveness to God's Self-manifestation 
in created beauty, in the reign of changeless law, in the good- 
ness ennobling all who look upon it. We can learn to con- 
template Nature more reverently, and with livelier memory of its 
divine significance. We can pay worship — as to the things of 
God — to all that the genius of man has made, to all the gracious 
forms that vest crude matter with loveliness, to all the coloring that 
dazzles and the sounds that enrapture us — for all are, as it were, 
but so many aspects of God toned down to the measure of our 
capacity, their wondrous fairness revealing but a faint sugges- 
tion of that ravishing Beauty whose inmost essence even for 
our own sakes, it would seem, must remain for all time wrapped 
round with light inaccessible. 



VOL. LXXVI.- 



THE EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN Art. [Mar., 



THE EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN ART. 

{Illustrated by aneuHt and modem examples. ) 
BV MARIE DONEGAN WALSH, 

IECILIA, sweetest singer, saint and martyr. So she 
is crowned throughout the ages. From the early- 
century days when the Christians bore her 
martyred body to the Catacombs even down to 
the present times the name of St. Cecilia is as a 
household word in many lands. Few of the long roll of 
Roman saints and martyrs have met with such renown outside 
the Catholic Church ; though much of this external interest is 
poetic and fanciful, perhaps, rather than devotional. Quite of 
another character is the real and substantial devotion to St. 
Cecilia existing in the Eternal City to-day, nineteen centuries 
after her death — a devotion befitting the birthplace of the 
martyred daughter of the noble house of Cecilii. Rome has 
changed the outward features of her face — or rather, the growth 
of centuritfs, the inevitable human law of mutability, has changed 
them for her ; but no changes can affect her saints. From the 
gray old walls and roof-trees which were their dwellings, and 
the Catacombs, their tombs, come the echoes of that one 
supreme sacrifice of love which alone makes human memory 
immortal. The present universal materiality of thought and 
sentiment has destroyed much that was beautiful and touching 
■in life ; but it cannot destroy real devotion. The same devotion 
which led the early church to pray in the Catacombs, laying 
garlands upon those primitive sepulchres, leads the Romans 
and strangers of to-day to a fair, still garden out on the 
" Queen of Highways " near Cecilia Metella's round tower; 
where rough-carved steps, leading down into the depths of 
the earth, are carpeted with box-leaves, myrtle, and pale pink 
petals ; showing the way to the Catacombs of St. Calixtus — in 
which St. Cecilia's relics were laid after her cruel martyrdom. 

This same devotion prompted Pope St. Urban I. to build a 
church in the second century over the saint's dwelling-house; 
and later on, in the ninth century, caused another Pontiff, St. 



1903.] The Evolution of Cecilian art. 



St. Cbcima. 1 



Paschal I., to found it as a bamlica, bringing the relics of the 
saint here from the Catacombs. Once again, in the sixteenth 
century, a cardinal-titular of St Cecilia's basilica restored the 
ancient place of worship. Now in the dawn of the twentieth 
century, when materialism reigns supreme, crushing tradition, 
pious sentiment, and even faith under her sordid rule, a prince 
of the church, faithful to the traditions of the Church of the 
Martyrs, has laid his homage at the feet of a saint of the 
Catacombs, who is yet a saint of to-day. Nor is devotion to 
a Roman martyr the only thing embodied in Cardinal Rampolla's 
splendid restoration of the Crypt of St. Cecilia's basilica, for his 
Eminence has rendered a signal service to Christian archxology 
in discovering another ancient Roman dwelling-house. The 



796 THE EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN ART. [Mar., 

practical needs of the day are not neglected either in this 
restoration ; for during the considerable period in which the 
work has been proceeding, employment has been given to 
hundreds of art- workers. For three years it has been impossible 
on account of the excavations to throw open the basilica on the 
feast of its titular saint, and the festival (perhaps the most 
beautiful of Rome's religious celebrations) has been held ex- 
clusively in the Catacombs. 

Last year, however, the 22d of November was marked by 
the reopening of the church and the solemn consecration of the 
Crypt, by his Eminence Cardinal Rampolla; when all Rome 
thronged to Trastevere, to honor the memory of "Rome's 
sweetest singer," and to gaze on the splendors of the bril- 
liantly-lighted Crypt, which is a veritable dream of modern 
ecclesiastical art. This completion of an historic Roman basilica, 
which does honor alike to Roman devotion and modern Roman 
art, naturally calls up comparison with the art which has 
embellished the shrines of the saint since the time of. her 
martyrdom ; for even more than St. Agnes, St. Cecilia has been 
the dream of artists throughout the centuries. Every spot in 
Rome hallowed by her memory shows the tributes of art to a 
purity realized, even if but imperfectly, by the artist- soul. 

To go back to the first portrait of St. Cecilia ever painted, 
we must turn from the threshold of even her early dwelling; 
back to the Catacombs where her body reposed for seven cen- 
turies; where a Christian artist of the seventh century painted 
a fresco of the martyr over her sepulchre. Few spots are more 
lovely in the old Rome and the new than this garden leading 
to the cemetery of St. Calixtus, so redolent of the flowers of 
martyrdom. For along its quiet garden pathways, above the 
stones of the Via Appia, martyred pontiffs were carried to their 
rest in the Catacombs below. No wonder that the roses bloom 
so thickly here, where the faint green of the trees frames a 
distant picture of the city; and all around the soft perfumes of 
the Campagna are wafted across from the Sabine Mountains, 
beautiful as a dream of the hills of God. One reluctantly leaves 
this characteristically Roman garden to descend the stairway 
leading to the Catacombs. Formerly in visiting the Catacomb 
of St Calixtus one groped one's way, in the early Christian 
manner, with the feeble light of torch and taper, which scarcely 
dissipated the gloom. But progress has penetrated even to the 



^903.] The Evolution of Cecilian Art. 797 

Catacombs; and there the electric light holds sway, to the 
damage, it must be confessed, of the sentiment and associations 
of the early Christian burial-places; but considerably facilitating 
the inspection of the Catacombs, their conformation, mural 
paintings, inscriptions, and tombs. Even electricity is dim, 
however, compared with the sunlit splendor of a Roman day ; 
and the sealed niches in the long, narrow galleries are solemnly 
impressive always; so full are the old tufa walls of the peace 
and silence of the ages gone. 

" In pace " was the epitaph of the Catacombs ; " In pace " 
the high destiny of those who sleep beneath these stones, leav- 
ing it as a heritage here behind them. On the festival the 
box-leaves strew the pathway of the martyr's triumph; and 
following them one comes to the shrine, where wreaths and 
garlands make a flower-garden of the spot in which St. Cecilia's 
body was found. Near it an altar is erected, and masses are 
continually said ; and the Society of the " Cultorum Martyrum," 
with its beautiful ceremonial, makes the Church of the Catacombs 
live again at the shrine of her martyr- saint. 

The history of St. Cecilia is too well known to dwell upon, 
as every phase in the " Acts of the Martyr " has been faith- 
fully illustrated in art; so that each picture in this Cecilian 
pilgrimage tells its eloquent story. St. Cecilia was martyred 
during a persecution under Marcus Aurelius; and her body was 
laid in this catacomb near the Crypt of the Popes, in the 
second century, by the St. Urban who had won her to the 
faith ; the Christians venerating her relics here till their trans- 
ferment to the basilica in Trastevere. Few altars possess an 
altar-piece like this of the Catacombs — the earliest presentment 
of St. Cecilia in the world, dating probably from the seventh 
century. Beautiful, in the strict sense of the word, this early 
picture certainly is not ; but interesting from its great antiquity, 
and as embodying the first ideal of St. Cecilia in the evolution 
of Christian art which we can follow down to the present day. 
It is an altogether Byzantine style of art, roughly frescoed in 
the tufa wall, but standing out life-like still in its coloring from 
the dull gray background. The saint is represented, in the 
beautifully-reverent attitude of the catacombs, as an '' Orante," 
or one who prays. Full of stately serenity is the flgure, with 
hands outstretched in prayer ; her richly- gemmed tunic and 
jewels denoting her high rank. An aureole surrounds the head; 



798 THE EVOLUTION OF CeciLIAN ART. [Mar., 

and flowers (perhaps symbolizing the flowers of the garden of 
Paradise) spring up from the painted background. AH the By- 
zantine rigidity is shown in the drawing, with its exaggeration 
of outlines ; but the face is pleasing, and the dignity of the 
figure adds much to the value of the fresco. 

And now to the basilica memories of St. Cecilia. When 



the saint lay dying after the executioner had given her the 
fatal third blow of the axe, she bequeathed her dwelling-house 
and belongings to the church ; the former to be made into a 
place of worship, the latter to be distributed among the most 
needy. This church was built accordingly after her death; but 
not until its conversion into a basilica, in the ninth century, was 
it adorned with the splendid mosaic- pictures of the martyr- 
saints in whose honor it was dedicated. The early basilica was 
in form much as it is to-day, with portico, columns, a "Con- 
fession " (under which was the saint's body), and a long nave, 
divided into aisles by columns long since covered over with 
plaster and stucco. The beautiful raised tribune is rich with 
gold mosaics ; and amid the group of her companions in mar- 
tyrdom, one sees the next picture of St. Cecilia known to art. 



I903-] THE EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN AUT. 799 

executed in the ninth century, when St. Paschal brought her 
body here. It was never lost sight . of in these early repre- 
sentations that St Cecilia was a noble Roman lady. The saint 
is clad in long, flowing draperies, with rich embroidery, with 
necklace and bracelets ; and a jewelled fillet in the braided 
hair which crowns the grave yet gentle face. Looking at this 
stately patrician portrait, one can scarcely realize that this is 
the portrait of a young girl of sixteen. Still another portrait 
decorates the mosaic frieze which runs across the portico of the 
basilica — a round medallion with SL Cecilia's head; and in 
similar medallions the heads of St. Valerian, her husband, and 
St. Tiburtius, her brother-in-law; for in nearly every picture 
dealing with the history of the saint, both in ancient and 
modern art, these martyr- saints are represented in her com- 
pany. Little by little, as the centuries passed, the walls of 
this roof- tree of the martyrs became a shrine of sacred art 
Artists of succeeding centuries have worked upon it, in fresco, 
painting, marble, and metal; but we of the latest generation 
have laid the touch of completion to the finished whole. In 
the twelfth century the portico of the ancient basilica was 
covered with frescoes (as is the basilica of '' San Lorenzo fuori 
le Mura" to this day) telling the history of St Cecilia. Only 
one now remains, and it is placed in the church. It represents 
the origin of the founding of this church — the vision of St. 
Cecilia seen by the saintly Paschal, which led him to search 
for her relics in the Catacombs and bring them here. It is a 
small oblong fresco, in the Giottesque style and coloring, tepre- 
senting the slumbering pontiff in pontifical garments, before 
whom stands the apparition of the martyr pointing out the 
place of her sepulture, and still depicted as wearing the rich 
bejewelled robe of all her earlier portraits. The fresco is stiff 
and rigid in its drawing, but bright in color; wonderfully 
realistic as the only twelfth century specimen of art in the 
Cecilian Basilica. One hundred years later, in 1268, another 
link in the chain of art was added to our inheritance; another 
feature of fairest beauty to St Cecilia's shrine. The grand old 
Florentine, Arnolfo del Cambio, was called to Rome, under the 
pontificate of Pope Honorius IV., to raise a marble canopy 
over the " Confession " in the basilica ; and well did he do his 
work. Fortunately for posterity, it was executed in marble and 
mosaic, and Arnolfo's slender pinnacles and perfect traceries 



8oo The Evolution of Cecilian Art. [Mar., 

still raise their matchless architecture above the martyr's rest- 
ing-place. Once more St. Cecilia's portrait appears here (for 
the first time in existing art in the form of a statue) ; for the 
four corners of the marble canopy are decorated with small 
statues of St. Cecilia and her companions. Throughout the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries no especial additions seem to 
have been made in the saint's basilica in Rome ; but in the 
sixteenth century the noblest artists of the period immortalized 
St. Cecilia in art elsewhere. In the grand old city of Bolog^na 
there is a tiny oratory, unknown and unnoticed by the generality 
of strangers, even by many of those who love to seek out the 
treasures of Italian art. Nevertheless, within its narrow limits 
it contains a veritable art gallery, having for theme the life of 
St. Cecilia, painted by a group of artists of the Bologna school 
of painting, headed by that master of pure ideals and loveliest 
color — Francesco Francia. It seems as if Francia had been an 
artist somewhat overlooked and forgotten ; but those who have 
seen these Cecilian frescoes, and his glorious masterpiece in the 
Church of San Giacomo Maggiore in Bologna, cannot fail to 
pay him the meed of appreciation to which he is so justly en- 
titled. When one has found one's way into this disused ora- 
tory (defaced in the seventeenth century by French soldiers 
who had their barracks here), it is a positive revelation to see 
the walls of the deserted sanctuary covered with truly exquisite 
frescoes, which show the Bolognese masters in so reverent and 
devotional a character! Their arrangement (divided into com- 
partments) is somewhat similar to the style of the frescoes in 
the Sistine Chapel, which its form resembles in miniature; and 
in ten pictures the whole life-story of St. Cecilia is graphically 
depicted, from her " Espousals to St. Valerian " to her " Burial." 
In the first and last of these frescoes (the gems of the whole 
series) the master, Francia, wrought with tender loving touches, 
in a perfection of gracefulness of form which even Raifaelle 
could not equal. To many minds, indeed, Francia surpassed 
Raifaelle — always in one respect, the quality of reverence and 
deep devotional feeling! These frescoes took two years to 
accomplish — from 1504 to 1506 — but their completion laid a 
noble homage at St Cecilia's feet, while the work of portraying 
the life of the pure young martyr must have been indeed con- 
genial to an idealist like Francia, who has shown himself so 
spiritual- minded in all his paintings. It is sad to see them 



1903.] THE EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN ART. 



Tki Espousals of St. Ocilia, by Fbancia, Bologha. Sixteenth Ckwtust. 
now, however, hidden away in this forgotten corner; waiting, 
in art's patient timelessness, for a renaissance which shall bring 
them once more before the notice of the world. 

Francia's Cecilian frescoes paved the way for another cele- 
brated presentment of the saint — perhaps the most famous 
which art has ever given the world ; Bologna's treasured mas- 



8o2 The Evolution of Cecilian Art [Mar., 

terpiece — the " St. Cecilia *' of Raffaelle, It is a peerlessly 
noble work ; an idyl of loveliest mellow coloring, touched witli 
the ineffable genius of the angelic painter's hand. Living, the 
sweet patroness of music stands there before us, with the sur- 
rounding group of saints — embodied music flushed with color, 
incomparable beauty, inimitable grace! Yet with all this in- 
spiration of genius, this supreme perfection of studied beauty, 
there is something wanting of idealism, something of devotion, 
which make far meaner works appeal more tenderly to the 
heart. Perhaps I do it injustice in missing some of its inspira- 
tion ; but turning from Raffaelle's " St. Cecilia," after long ad- 
miring its perfect art, does one ever think of the Saint of the 
Catacombs crowned with the martyr's thorny crown ; or feel 
inclined to murmur, "St. Cecilia, Virgin and Martyr, pray for 
us"? No; it rather leaves us prayerless, touched not in o«r 
devotion but in our aesthetic sense of beauty ; with a lasting 
ideal of. the heavenly patroness of music, which no after- picture 
can ever lessen or efface. This picture, painted in the zenith 
of the Renaissance, formed the crown of Cecilian art in the 
sixteenth century ; but in the first year of the seventeenth there 
arose a rival (if it can be called rivalry to compare sculpture 
to painting) to dispute its precedence — a rival which outdis- 
tanced it in pure devotion and true religious feeling. 

In 1599, during some important restorations made to the 
basilica by its titular. Cardinal Sfondrato, the body of St. 
Cecilia, enclosed in the marble sarcophagus where Pope St. 
Paschal had placed it,' was unearthed and opened in presence 
of the cardinal. Then occurred the beautiful miracle, which 
inspired the sublimest representation of deathless purity ever 
carved by human hands! For they found the martyr's body 
pure and incorrupt, fourteen centuries after her death, clad in 
a fine woven garment with embroideries; lying on her side, 
with the cruel wound in her slender throat and blood-stained 
cloths of martyrdom lying about her feet. All the world knows 
the famous reclining statue of St. Cecilia. It has been the joy 
of generations ; and no traveller to Rome but visits Trastevere, 
to gaze upon the work of art which lies there under the altar — 
the living saint whom centuries of repose have hardened into 
marble. Its sovereign beauty lies in the fact that the statue is 
no idealized vision, but the PORTRAIT of the martyr as the 
sculptor Maderno saw her, before they closed the tomb. 



I903-] THE EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN ART. Soj 

Through this ardent young spirit, then, full of the artist's 
striving after the ideal, St. Cecilia's faithful portrait has come 
down to posterity ; true even to the actual measurement of the 
saint's body. This statue is one of the highest triumphs of 
sculpture, for not an unnecessary touch of the chisel mars the 
simplicity of its noble repose. Still more is it remarkable, for 



Status of St. Cecilia, by Stbfano Madbrno, undbr the Altar in the Basilica. 

at the period of its execution simplicity was giving place to 
mannerism; and the glory of the Renaissance was impercepti- 
bly waning into the decadent period of the Baroque. This 
work, however, was worthy of the high tide of its ideality, 
imperceptibly raising the standard of all the decorations around 
it. Marbles, precious stones, and costly bronze-work enriched 
the " Martyr's Confession " under Arnolfo's canopy, so that the 
pure white vision of the Vii^in-Martyr lay enthroned in a 
niche of richest surroundings. Nor was this homage of art con- 
fined alone to the immediate environment of the saint's tomb 
during the century which saw the rediscovery of her relics. 
No part of the roof and walls of this venerable Roman basilica 
but shows the handiwork of able artists, all of whom labored 
(more or less successfully) to depict the heavenly beauty of the 
saint so dear to them. 

Two great rivals worked in peaceful rivalry here, in this 
sanctuary full of the atmosphere of eternal peace. In the tri- 



8o4 The Evolution of Cecil/an Art. [Mar., 

bune behind the altar of the Confession, and below the mosaic- 
pictures of the early ages, Guido Rcni painted " Si, Cecilia* s 
Martyrdom " in a great panel oil-painting, which shows him in 
his most devotional manner, and with great ability. From the 
dark, almost Rembrandt- like shadows of the background the 
saint stands out serenely beautiful; kneeling before the execu- 
tioner's uplifted sword, steadfast, nay, longing for the blow 
which is to bring her into the "Presence" already dawning on 
that blissful gaze. None of the human fear of death and suf- 
fering clouds the serenity of the features; for human doubt of 
the unknown is obliterated by the martyr's perfect faith. It is 
strange to note in this picture the strong resemblance to 
Raffaelle's St. Cecilia, in the features, the attitude of the head, 
and even the attire of the saint. 

To another master — Guido's great rival, Domenichino (who 
must have had a great devotion to the Roman martyr from the 
frequency with which he depicted the scenes of her life) — was 
left the task of decorating another part of the basilica of St. 
Cecilia — a side-chapel somewhat apart from the rest of the 
church, and once the bath-room of the patrician dwelling. It 
will be remembered in the early history of St. Cecilia that the 
original church was incorporated with the saint's abode, of 
which the traces still remain ; for to this day can be seen in 
this beautiful little frescoed chapel and the corridor leading to 
it the hot-water pipes and the copper furnace used for heating 
the bath — one of the most interesting and best preserved re- 
mains of a Roman dwelling-house ever discovered. It was in 
this bath-room the executioners first attempted to g^ve St. 
Cecilia her crown of martyrdom, by enclosing her in it and 
heating the furnace to a fiery heat ; finding her at the end of 
three days alive and unhurt. A replica of Guido Reni's mar- 
tyrdom-picture hangs over the altar of this chapel; but love- 
liest of all its decorations is the new conception in which 
Domenichino immortalized the saint — showing, as it were, a 
vision of approaching martyrdom — the martyr receiving the 
crown in company with her husband^ St. Valerian. It is of 
that shape seldom met with in art — a circular picture, which 
gives it a character not soon forgotten. The chaste spouses 
are represented as kneeling in prayer in their dwelling; while 
between them, in a flood of light, an angel descends with out- 
spread wings, bearing in either hand the rose-crown of martyr- 



I903-] Tfi^ EVOLUTION OF CECILIAN ART. 805 



Thb Crowning o 



dotn. The figures of the martyrs are spiritual and full of in> 
finite grace — the artist's conception of saintly youth; for both 
saints are depicted as singularly young and pure and innocent. 
Gracious too is the descending angel, with just a touch of 
sorrow about it ; a tender, half-wistful expression, as if he 
were envious of the destiny of the martyrs, worthy to suffer 
for their Lord. The picture hangs on the wall directly facing 
the altar, — singularly appropriate on the walls of the very spot 
where St. Cecilia suffered her double martyrdom by fire and 
sword. 

These were the last paintings by celebrated masters placed 
in the Cecilian Basilica, for the fresco of the " Triumph of St. 
Cecilia" on the vaulting is (though florid and grandiose) un- 
worthy of its surroundings, and only shows the decadence of 



8o6 The Evolution of Cecilian Art. [Mar. 

art. Thus the grand old temple was left untouched througho::: 
the period of two more centuries — a hallowed shrine for bott- 
pilgrim and artist. Its art-work seemed complete ; and the 
nineteenth century Renaissance of Christian archaeologT* (already 
much occupied in other directions) had not yet been able to 
give attention to excavating the Crypt of St. Cecilia. 

In 1898, however, his Eminence Cardinal Rampolla (Cardi- 
nal Secretary of State and Titular of St. Cecilia's) determincc 
to record the Jubilee Year of 1900 by the complete restoration 
and art decoration of the " Crypt of the Martyrs " under the 
'' Confession " ; and also by extensive excavations, comprehend- 
ing the entire area of the church, to discover all existing 
traces of St. Cecilia's dwelling. With splendid munificence his 
Eminence has carried out his design, even down to the mi- 
nutest detail ; thereby supplying the one thing needed to ren- 
der this Roman shrine of St. Cecilia perfect, and carry on the 
sequence of its. art. Several^ alterations and improvements ^rere 
also made in the upper church. On the Sunday previous to 
the feast of St. Cecilia, after a solemn vig^l of prayer and 
watching, the new Crypt was solemnly consecrated by Cardinal 
Rampolla, accompanied by a number of archbishops and bishops. 
The pontifical first Vespers is always sung on the eve of the 
feast by the chosen singers of Rome's basilica choirs, and 
Cardinal Rampolla, in his character of titular, pontificates. But 
this year the ceremonial assumed an even more imposing aspect 
His Eminence was attended by a long train of archbishops, 
bishops, pontifical masters- of -ceremonies and dignitaries, w^ho, 
after proceeding in procession to bless the new statue of the 
saint erected in the Crypt, declared it open to public devotion. 

It was a memorable pilgrimage; besides providing another 
phase of Cecilian art — the most ancient yet the last discovered* 
We have read the story of a life-time now, in painting and in 
sculpture. We have seen the humble " Orante " of the Cata- 
combs, the sainted patrician lady of the later basilica, the mar- 
tyr suffering a cruel death, the heavenly patroness of music, 
and finally her everlasting rest and glorious crowning, each pic- 
ture in some way reflecting the tendencies of the age in which 
it was executed. There appeared to be nothing which a later 
generation could add to this splendid evolution of Christian 
art; and no modern painter or sculptor could be blamed for 
discouragement, if when standing before the art of a Mademo 



1903.] The Evolution of Cecilian Art, 807 

or a Raifaelle, he felt overwhelmed at the prospect of emulating 
such perfection. But eternal art is good to her children, though 
they so often hide, deface, or crush her with their materialism. 
The well-spring of idealism has not yet run dry; and though 
it may appear to be modern egotism, still there is truth in the 
statement that the twentieth century contribution to the cult 
of St. Cecilia is by no means inferior in merit to its prede- 
cessors. Even more; I venture to think that even if not in 
conception and execution (in which also they favorably com- 
pare), at least in ideality and pure religious feeling, we have 
struck the keynote of the Cecilian symphony of art. The 
secret lies in the inscription from the Holy Scriptures which 
has inspired the art of the new ^Cecilian Crypt : " They were 
as the angels of God." Could there be a higher conception of 
the martyrs, or one more calculated to produce spiritual- minded 
work? The intrinsic beauty of this inspiration seems to have 
pervaded every portion of the decorations, rendering them most 
noble and elevated in character. 

By the entrance outside the basilica (which was the only 
one open on the festival) one must first pass through the exca- 
vations of the Roman dwelling-house before gaining the " Mar- 
tyr's Crypt." These excavations have been most extensive ; 
covering one- half of the area of the whole basilica from portico 
to tribune ; so that the various chambers of the ancient dwell- 
ing have been discovered. Only the smaller portion, under the 
tribune and confession, forms the crypt proper of the martyr ; 
the only part which has been decorated as a subterranean 
church. After descending a low double flight of stairs one 
comes into a kind of ante-chamber, filled with inscriptions, 
architectural remains, and detached fragments of sculpture, both 
of pagan and Christian times ; all found here on the spot. 
The conformation of this subterranean Crypt is something like 
that of the lower church of San Clemente and the house of 
Sts. John and Paul on the Coelian hill. 

A succession of chambers open one out of the other, 
arranged in exquisite order, and decorated with these interest- 
ing remains of antiquity: parts of once massive pilasters can 
be seen ; columns with their sculptured capitals still beside 
them, and portions of a solid wall, recognized as of the period 
of the emperors. Here is a portion of a sculptured frieze, 
with graceful acanthus leaves; there a lettered inscription or a 



THE Evolution of Cecilian art. 



I THE NIHTB CBN- 

bird or beast of symbolic meaning ; or, perhaps, a terra cotta 
vase of exquisite Greek form, filled for to-day's ceremony with 
paltn-Ieaves, symbolizing the martyr's triumph. la many of 
these subterranean chambers the mosaic pavement of St. 
Cecilia's time is uncovered — a small black-and-white mosaic in 
geometrical designs like those of Hadrian's Villa at Tivoli. 
The strong electric light, so well placed, shows up to great 
perfection every fragment and detail of all these architectural 
remains of the once magnificent Roman dwelling. In the 
largest central chamber one of the most interesting discoveries 
of the Crypt has been found — a sarcophagus of the second 
century, with a fine figure in bas-relief of the Good Shepherd. 
Other sarcophagi and sculptural remains also decorate this 
chamber ; but opening out of it is another smaller chamber, 
revealing a characteristic feature of an old Roman dwelling 
most precious for its antiquity — a survival of the period of this 
dwelling anterior to St. Cecilia's conversion to Christianity. 
This is the household shrine of the "Lares and Penates" — a 
tiny niche in the wall decorated with terra-cotta bas-reliefs. 



1903.] The Evolution of Cecilian Art. 809 

The central figure represents Minerva, flanked by two other 
small bas-reliefs ; and so perfect is the preservation and carv- 
ing of the tiny figures that each line stands out clearly — distinct 
as if carved in the twentieth century instead of the first. 

At the end of a narrow gallery lined with inscriptions there 
is an open doorway from which the light pours forth in silvery 
floods. Passing the threshold into this Martyr-Crypt of St. 
Cecilia, one seems to have entered into the midst of a splendid 
dream of mysticism — a glorified vision of the Catacombs such 
as they might be pictured could the martyrs' resting-places 
have been transformed for an instant into the ** atrium " of 
heaven — an atmosphere worthy of "those who have passed 
through the great tribulation" wrapped in the light of glorious 
immortality. Dazzling, almost blinding, after the sombre tufa 
walls of the outer crypt, the gold, mosaic, and marbles seem 
to cast shafts of light from their glittering surface. Vaulting, 
walls, and pavement alike show a surpassing richness of decora- 
tion, yet most harmonious in the scheme of coloring, so that 
the effect of even so much gold and color is chaste in the 
extreme and in exquisite taste. At first the wealth of fine 
work and detail bestowed on a comparatively small area of 
space is almost bewildering. One must have time to realize 
and enjoy the color- harmonies before descending to details, each 
one of which merits a separate study. 

The soft streams of radiance which flood the Crypt come 
from globes of electric- light in the vaulted roof, surrounded by 
a setting of studded jewels which flash and glitter. It falls upon 
point after point of richness — on the lines of beautiful per- 
spective formed by the slender marble columns which support 
the roof; on the raised stucco decorations of the vaulting in 
their soft, delicate coloring; but fullest, clearest, and steadiest 
of all on the Martyr's Tomb. 

The front of the shrine (after the manner of an ancient 
basilica) shows a marble screen like a window, of exquisite open- 
work, separated by a delicately-slender marble column. Inside 
one distinctly sees the three stone " sarcophagi " containing the 
relics of SS. Cecilia, Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus. Above 
the screen is the exquisite arched altar-piece of mosaic, "The 
Apotheosis of St. Cecilia " ; the figure of the martyr standing 
out in color from a background of purest gold. The saint is 

represented above a garden of blossoms, rising slowly through 
VOL, Lxxvi. — 52 



8io THE Evolution of Cecil/an Art. [Man, 

the clouds and supported by two attendant angels. In this — as 
in all the mosaic-pictures of the Crypt — in order to harmonize 
with the period of the Catacombs, the art is the modern 
Byzantine style ; with conventionality and slight rigidity of the 
figures, though the expression of the faces is strikingly beauti- 
ful and spiritual. This modernized Byzantine style, with its 
intense refinement and purity of form, greatly enhances the 
ecclesiastical character of the Crypt of St. Cecilia. It is ex- 
ceedingly difficult in a modern religious picture to combine 
realism with devotionality of . feeling ; but this style of mosaics 
has completely surmounted the difficulty. The altar of marble 
and mosaic work, gemmed with precious stones and marble 
columns, harmonizes perfectly with the mosaic pictures, two 
more of which flank the shrine of St. Cecilia on either side of the 
wall. One represents the " Angelic Marriage of SS. Cecilia and 
Valerian " ; where (as in Domenichino's picture in the church 
above) an angel separates them with a white lily of purity in his 
hand. In the companion-picture St. Cecilia is represented in 
prayer, while the glorified spirits of Valerian and Tiburtius hover 
near, bearing the crown of martyrdom. At the other side of the 
curved recess at the back of the Confession there is another 
altar with a marble grating, through which the back of the 
" sarcophagi " are seen ; the wall above being decorated on the 
arch by mosaic medallion portraits of the martyrs buried there. 
Two arched side-chapels opening out on either side of the 
martyr's tomb are dedicated respectively to St. Agatha and St. 
Agnes. Most appropriate is this homage to their memory here 
by the shrine of their companion-martyr ; and purely lovely the 
mosaic pictures over the altars, representing the young virgin- 
saints. Most striking of the two is the almost child-like figure 
of St. Agnes standing amid a field of virgin lilies, whiter than 
the white robe she wears or the snowy lamb at her feet, her 
long fair hair falling over her shoulders. All around the walls 
runs a noble frieze of Roman mosaic in colored marbles, show- 
ing the symbolic imagery of the Catacombs; the dove, the 
peacocks (symbol of immortality), and the harts panting after 
the fountains of water. 

The crown, however, of all the mural decorations (forming 
the pure note of contrast which only serves to throw out more 
perfectly the prevailing mass of gold and colors) is the new 
statue of St. Cecilia, placed in an atched niche in the wall im- 



1903.] The Evolution of Cecilian Art. 811 

mediately facing the sepulchre. It was the triumph of architect 
and sculptor to place it here; for could there have been one 
touch wanting to complete the Apotheosis of St. Cecilia, it was 
this pure unsullied image of the martyr-saint — the guardian 
genius of the spot. It is a full-length standing figure of a fair 
young girl with head uplifted. Is it the distant song of angels 
or the call to martyrdom which brings that dreamily rapt ex- 
pression over the perfect features ? No ; the answer lies in the 
inscription graven at the base of the niche. " Fiat cor meum 
immaculatum" — the pure cry of a virgin heart to the Infinite 
Purity of the Virgin's Crown. Straight and tall and slender 
she stands carved before us, in the home whence her soul 
winged its flight to God more than eighteen centuries ago. 
There is no pose or exaggeration of gesture here; only the 
image of a pure and innocent maiden, such as was that fair 
young Roman saint of long ago, whose virtues made the name 
of martyrdom sweet even in unbelieving ears. Parted and lying 
in soft waves around the low, broad forehead, the hair falls 
lightly over the shoulders; one perfect hand is laid across the 
breast with ineffable modesty; the other holds the scroll, on 
which is written '* Erunt sicut angeli Dei." A short mantle 
of Greek design covers with graceful draperies the slight young 
form ; while the severely-classical lines of the robe beneath fall 
with unstudied grace to the sandalled feet. Truly a white lily 
of the Garden of Paradise, embodied into earth's marble, so 
that poor weary earth may not forget the land from whence 
she came ! 

In this conception of St. Cecilia the usual formula of de- 
picting her with a musical instrument has been departed from. 
Possibly some might be inclined to regret the omisision; but 
not after gazing on this ideal work. No symbol of earth clings 
to the statue, to mar its angelic purity; for remember, "They 
were as the angels of God." Earth's instruments are not for 
one who listened to the angels' symphonies. None of the 
ghastly adjuncts of martyrdom are here; not even the martyr's 
palm — symbol of the victory of the spirit — is laid in the hand 
of the saint who walked ever with the angels ! 

It was by the express desire of the generous cardinal who 
has donated this work of art to his titular church that St. 
Cecilia was thus represented, without any musical instrument 
For though it is a pious tradition to connect this Roman mar- 



8i2 The Evolution of Cecil/an Art. [Mar., 

tyr with the spirit of music, there is absolutely no historical 
foundation in her Acts for asserting that the saint actually 
played any musical instrument. Hence, Cardinal RampoUa 
wished to have the titular saint embodied, not as the half- 
fanciful poetic patroness of music ; not even as the glorious 
martyr; but as the spotless Virgin who has listened to the 
Voice of the Bridegroom, in heaven's eternal spring-time of 
youth and purity. The ideal is indeed a high one — the very 
highest that Christian art could have for inspiration ; but it 
needed a master of the art of sculpture as well as a devotional 
mind to carry it out. No one could have more perfectly ful- 
filled these conditions or more fully carried out the ideal than 
the eminent sculptor who has executed the work ; so Greek in 
its perfect simplicity of outline, yet with the Christian soul 
shining through the grace of the material form. To combine 
grace with repose in a standing figure is a difficult task with- 
out perceptible rigidity of the lines; but the Roman sculptor 
of St Cecilia, Professor Cesare Aureli, has most successfully 
accomplished it. In a few broad, masterly outlines he has pro- 
duced a form of complete reposefulness and perfect g^ace, 
owing nothing of its value to gesture or pose, of which there 
is literally none. As for the inefifable purity of the conception 
the statue speaks for itself, as the sculptor's realization : " They 
were as the angels of God ! " 

It was an interesting study to stand for awhile in the 
Crypt watching the effect of its art on the crowds who come 
and go. At first they are dazzled by the almost sunlit burst 
of splendor; then, as their eyes g^ow accustomed, they begin 
to drink in its beauty with appreciative eyes, while constant 
kneeling groups succeed each other by the martyr- shrine. But 
with almost loving pleasure they linger by the statue, gazing 
up at the sweet seraphic face ; and it causes no astonishment, 
even no notice, when now and again some one bends, after the 
sweet Italian custom, to press their lips to the feet of this liv- 
ing ideal of a martyr- saint. The majority realize little of its 
art- value, but its pure beauty touches that chord hidden in the 
hearts of us all for true beauty and purity. 

Vespers were going on in the church above ; and the sounds 
of chanting came surging down to the quiet CrypL But for 
some seconds there had been a lull — ^the triumphant chorus had 
ceased. Just as the hush became oppressive the soft ripplings of 



1903.] The Crucifix. 813 

a harp broke the silence ; and a single voice began the 
Antiphon of St Cecilia, " Cantantibus organis." First in full 
sweet measures, then changing into a plaintive minor, the 
Virgin's prayer transcribed into music arose, as if from that 
sculptured semblance of the saint : '' Fiat cor meum immacu- 
latum ! " Rising and soaring the beautiful words of the solo 
ring out; again and again on the breathless stillness, till the 
chorus joins the infinite pathos of supplication : " Fiat, fiat, cor 
meum, immaculatum ! " The antiphon is at an end. 

Long after the voices have died away the echoes linger 
around the Crypt, where art has imprisoned them in letters of 
stone. We read in them the deathless secret of the ages, before 
whom earth's greatness and power stand rebuked — the main- 
spring of all this spiritual beauty ; poured out through centuries 
with loving prodigality at St. Cecilia's feet : " Fiat cor meum 
immaculatum ut non confundar." 




THE CRUCIFIX. 

BY ANNA McCLURE SHOLL. 

LACE not this Image only in my cell, 
Above the little shrine where morn and eve 
I bow and for my soul's transgressions grieve; 
This hidden spot whose silence the soft knell 
Of Angelus alone disturbs, or swell 

Of distant organ. Here the world I leave, 
. And think of Him who suffered to reprieve 
Me miserable from doom of judgment fell. 

But set this Image also where in proud 
Array my Plato and my Horace grace 
The books of earthly knowledge, held too dear; 

That when my foolish heart these pageants crowd, 
I may turn from the page in holy fear. 
And see all truth and wisdom in His Face. 



8l4 VExy Rev. ALPHQNSE L. MAGNIEN, S.S., D.D. [Mar., 



VERY REV. ALPHONSE L. MAGNIEN. S.S.. D.D. 

A CHARACTER SKETCH. 

BY REV. M. F. FOLEY. 

j N Sunday morning, December 21, 1902, spent 
with labors rather than with years, there passed 
from earth Very Rev. Alphonse L. Magnien, 
S.S., D.D., Rector emeritus of St Mary's Sem- 
inary, Baltimore. For a quarter of a century 
he had governed the oldest Catholic seminary in this country, 
and inside and out its walls had become a mighty power 
influencing and shaping many minds — a power hardly seen or 
heard, yet felt throughout the length and breadth of the land. 
The telling of the story of such a life must be left to 
other pens. Father Magnien's was truly a many-sided char- 
acter, and, taken from any point of view, worthy of careful study. 
This paper can only touch upon a few characteristics which 
seem to the writer to stand out with striking prominence in 
that well-rounded career. 

Alphonse L. Magnien was born in the diocese of Mende 
on June 7, 1837. This diocese, situated in the heart of 
France, was remarkable for the sterling faith and piety of its 
people, and gave many of its sons and daughters to God in the 
religious state. We may be sure that in Alphonse Magnien 
the child was truly " father of the man," and that when he 
heard the divine Voice calling him to exchange the world for 
the sanctuary, there was the prompt hearkening and the ready 
response of the boy Samuel of the olden time: "Speak, Lord, 
for thy servant heareth." To God's first call there soon suc- 
ceeded a second, bidding him give up fond hopes of living and 
laboring among his own. Bishop Dupanloup, of Orleans, 
was badly in need of priests. Responding to his appeal for 
help, the young seminarian affiliated himself to the diocese of 
Orleans, a diocese poor indeed in earthly promise, but rich in 
glorious memories and in its illustrious bishop. 

In Orleans, on June 15, 1862, Father Magnien was raised 
to the sacred priesthood, and in that city taught the classics 
'nr some years with much success. At this period of his life 



■903-] y£JtyR£y. ALPHONSE L. MaGNIEN, S.S., D.D. 815 



Veiy Rbv. Alphonsk L. Macnien. S.S., D.D. 
he came under the influence of the great Dupanloup, for whom 
he was ever after to entertain the greatest reverence and 
devotion. One could not long know Father M^nien without 
feeling that between him and the Bishop of Orleans, widely 
different as their life's ways bad run, there was much in common 
of high resolve, of strong faith, of unfaltering course, and of 
single-hearted devotion to principle. 

In Orieans, too, Father Magnieo came into contact with the 
Sulptcian Fathers, the men whose influence chiefly was to give 



8l6 Very REV, ALPHONSE L, MAGNIEN, S,S,, D.D. .[Mar., 

I 

clear-cut shape and purpose to all his after life. Impressed 
with the piety and zeal of these followers of the saintly Olier^ 
Father Magnien determined to cast his lot with theirs, and in 
1864 became a member of the Society of Saint Sulpice. He 
was at the seminary of Rodez teaching philosophy when there 
came to that house, seeking colaborers, the venerable Dr. 
Dubreul, superior of the Baltimore seminary. Yielding to the 
prayers of this servant of God, Father Magnien, td the great 
sorrow of his confreres, resolved to leave the land of his fathers 
and go to the land of the stranger^ across the western sea. 

In 1869, in St. Mary's Seminary, he began his work in the 
United States. There for nine years he taught philosophy, 
theology, and Holy Scripture. As a professor he was eminently 
successful. A born teacher, possessing a vast fund of knowl- 
edge, he was never happier than when imparting it to others. 
He had a magnetic power in teaching which seemed to compel 
the attention of his listeners, and a happy faculty of investing 
the dryest topics with a charm that rendered them interesting 
and attractive. 

From the very beginning of his American career Father 
Magnien was a favorite with his reverend associates, with the 
others of the clergy who eame to know him, and with the 
seminarians; and the influence of his strong character began 
early to be felt. In the summer of 1878 there came t<^ him 
the command, " Go up higher." In the Lent of that year the 
pious and learned Dubreul had passed away, and a few months 
later Father Magnien was appointed his successor. The fitness 
of this choice, recognized at once by all, became more and more 
apparent as time went on. Father Magnien rose grandly to 
every new requirement of his high position. None knew better 
than this son of old France the meaning of ** noblesse oblige.** 

The government of any theological seminary is a difficult 
and responsible task. It involves the bearing of burdens and 
the performing of duties of vital import to religion, but of 
which the average man has little or no conception. The gov- 
ernment of St. Mary's was a work of peculiar difficulty and re- 
sponsibility. From its inception this seminary was not a merely 
local institution, which trained young men who lived within 
sight of its walls to labor at the doors of their own homes. 
The first seminary, and for some years the only one in the 
land, it always had a cosmopolitan character, but never so 
much so as during Father Magnien's administration. Men were 



.J903.] VERY REK ALPHONSE L. MAGNIEN. S.S., D.D, 817 

there from many foreign lands, and from many parts of our 

o'wii land,— men sprung from many races and imbued with 

racial characteristics and prejudices. They were all preparing, 

't is true, for the same priesthood ; but for a priesthood to be 

exercised under widely different influences and amid widely 

different surroundings. To form of so many diverse elements a 

harmonious whole was no easy task. Yet with no apparent 

effort Father Magnien did this very thing. A few years ago, 

when in some quarters brass and wind instruments made the 

vrelkin ring with the so-called " race question," the atmosphere 

of St. Mary's was undisturbed. It had no American party, or 

German party, or Irish party, or French party, or any other 

kind or style of " party." It knew only one party — that which 

sought, Auspice Maria^ the things which were Christ's. 

Catholic in faith. Father Magnien knew only one centre of 
spiritual truth and life — Rome. To uncompromising Joyalty to 
the See of Peter he joined intense affection and devotion to 
the person of the Sovereign Pontiff. He esteemed no man a 
Catholic who was less Catholic than the Pope ; nor did he hold 
in higher regard him who would fain be more so. 

Catholic in charity, as well, was Father Magnien. His zeal 
for God's glory was confined within no narrow bounds. Real* 
izing well the imperative and growing need of higher educa- 
tion among Catholics, he was the promoter and staunch friend 
of the Catholic University of America. He was Delegate for 
the United States of the Society for the Propagation of the 
Faith, and left no means untried to advance the interests of 
that apostolic organization. The work among our Indians and 
Negproes was dear to his heart, and he gave it practical en- 
couragement and support The bishops and priests laboring 
among the Indians of the West owe much to him ; while St. 
Joseph's Seminary for Negro Missions ranks him among its 
best friends and benefactors. He ever laid the strongest stress 
upon the obligations of priests towards their non- Catholic 
brethren. His interest in the work of non- Catholic Missions 
was keen and intelligent, and he watched with intense delight 
the steady growth of that apostolate. A child of fair France, 
Father Magnien had in common with every true man a deep, 
tender, and abiding love for the land that gave him birth. He 
shared her joys and sorrows ; he was proud of her glories, and he 
blushed for her shame. For the country of his adoption, too, his 
love was warm and earnest. For America and her free institutions 



8i8 VERY REV. ALPHONSE L. MAGNIEN, 5.5., D.D, [Mar., 

he found no words of praise too strong, and he would have 
every priest in the land the most loyal and devoted of patriots. 

Mention has been made of Father Magnien's success in 
teaching whilst a professor. As superior of the seminary he 
presided at the spiritual conferences held each evening. To the 
students these exercises were a veritable mental and moral 
treat eagerly looked for. Taking as the groundwork of his re- 
marks the utterances of some approved authority on the spir- 
itual life, he drew explanation and application from the treasury 
of his well-stored and well-ordered mind, marshalling in array 
to support his position the Holy Scriptures, the Fathers, and 
the other shining lights of the Church of God. No one could 
listen unmoved to these flights of heart-bom eloquence. In the 
received acceptation of the term, Father Magnien could not be 
called an '' orator." But from a logical mind his thoughts 
came forth in perfect order, and they were expressed in clear- 
cut, sententious, captivating phrase. His fluency in Latin and 
in English was remarkable. One could tell from the use of 
certain expressions, from the structure of his sentences, and 
from some of his inflections, that Father Magnien in speaking 
English was using an acquired tongue; but he rarely hesitated, 
the right words were ready in the right place. 

While striving to lead men into the higher ways of the 
spiritual life, Father Magnien kept a marvellous grasp upon 
plain matter-of-fact truth. He taught well how to combine 
theory and practice, how to use God's gifts of every order to 
advance the interests of the Giver, how to draw men to God 
by all the cords of Adam. He was fond of bidding students 
remember that " to those who love God all things work to- 
gether unto good " — " even their very sins " ; and he often 
held up for imitation the example of Peter and Magdalen and 
Augustine, and bade his hearers, like these earnest penitents, 
''rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things." 

In the retreats preparatory to ordinations. Father Magnien 
frequently gave instructions on the Pontifical. None privileged 
to hear these outpourings of his mind and heart will ever for- 
get them. Step by step, from the moment when the young 
cleric at the reception of the holy tonsure expressed his desire 
to have the Lord as his portion for ever, Father Magnien led 
his auditors onward and upward, in ever- increasing awe and 
reverence, in ever-increasing fear and love, until the vision of 
the priesthood's glorious splendor burst upon them. 



1903.] Very Rev. Alphonse L. Magnien, S.S., D.D. 819 

Called of God to be a trainer of priests, fitted for his high 
vocation and corresponding to it, Father Magnien believed that 
the end and purpose of his calling was to form not simply 
priests, but saintly priests, and this belief sounded in all his 
teachings as the dominant note. He believed and taught that 
the priesthood — including in this term, of course, the episcopate, 
its highest form and development — was the first religious order 
instituted by our Lord himself, with St. Peter as its first 
superior, and that all those who are called to the priesthood, 
the priesthood of Jesus Christ, the Great High-Priest, are called 
to the highest office on earth ; that theirs is the greatest power, 
the highest responsibility, that ever fell to the lot of poor weak 
creatures. This great truth Father Magnien would have steadily 
go before his hearers during all their after lives as the cloud 
and the fire went before God's elect in the desert of old, guid- 
ing, warning, and encouraging them, making their ministry 
honorable in their own eyes and in the eyes of the world, and 
fruitful in good for many souls. 

Father Magnien ever called upon aspirants for the diocesan 
priesthood to aim at the highest ideals ; and he warned them 
that they could not safely rest content to be less holy than the 
holiest of God's anointed, less self-sacrificing or less unworldly. 
He sternly resented any written or spoken word that seemed to 
place before them a lower standard; and he denounced as un- 
worthy their calling and their Master, those of the diocesan 
clergy who acted as if they were content to be relegated to a 
lower place of spiritual life and energy, and who excused them- 
selves from being in all things what they should be by the 
pitiful, cowardly pleading of the baby-act — " I am only a secular 
priest." Many times did this splendid type of the secular 
priest bring out the true significance of the oft- misunderstood 
and oft-abused term ''secular." With Cardinal Manning, he 
reiterated that " the diocesan clergy are called ' seculars ' be- 
cause they live and labor and suffer in the world for the sancti- 
fication of the world, that they are in the world for the world's 
sake, not of it but at war with it, of all men the least secular 
unless they become worldly and the salt lose its savor. Then 
they deserve the title in all its extent and are seculars indeed." 

In his All for Jesus Father Faber says : " There is not a 
thing which has not two sides; and one side belongs to Jesus, 
and the other side is against Him. The devil has other interests 
besides sheer sin. He can fight against Jesus with low views 



820 Very Rev, Alphonse L. Magnien, S.S., D.d. [Mar.^ 

almost as successfully as with mortal sins. The slow poison of 
souls sometimes does his work better than the quick.'' Xhis 
thought, couched in other terms, was often on the lips oi 
Father Magnien. Naturally high-minded, he had an innate con- 
tempt for all that was mean and low. He readily, perhaps 
sometimes too readily, forgave the downright sinner professing 
repentance ; but he looked upon the " mean fellow," to use his 
own phrase, as well-nigh beyond redemption, and " meanness " 
he deemed not far removed from the unpardonable sin. 

Sursum Corda was ever his motto and his own guiding^ 
principle. In word or in deed, in dealing with men of high 
degree or low, he never struck a low note or a false one. He 
was honesty personified, brave too, and chivalrous. In his 
estimation a cause must be either right or wrong ; if he thought 
it right, he was for it; if he thought it wrong, he was against 
it, with all his heart and soul. He was not a diplomat. He 
was not even politic. Sometimes in his rugged honesty he 
lacked what men call '' tact." He could not, if he would, tem- 
porize; still less could he compromise. He could not stand on 
both sides of any question. Strong in his likes, he was equally 
so in dislikes. Like every strong man he had his enemies. 
They always found him in the open. He was faithful in his 
friendships. No man ever lost the friendship of Father Magnien 
unless he deserved to lose it. If his friend's glory was setting, 
he was willing to share his darkness; he was no worshipper of 
the rising sun. He had a judicial temperament, and in serious 
matters did not jump at conclusions ; but once he had taken his 
stand he was not afraid to say, with his heroic soldier country- 
men, Jy suis et fy resie. 

It has been said that Father Magnien had the happy faculty 
of winning hearts. The youngest student saw in him not only 
a superior, but a friend, a confidant, and a father. The very 
name commonly given him, the abbe, was not a title given him 
as it often is to French ecclesiastics; it was an affectionate 
nickname put upon him by the students when he was a pro- 
fessor of Holy Scripture in St. Mary's. There was only one 
abbe. The kindly relations between him and the students con- 
tinued in after days. With keen interest aiid surprising success, 
he kept himself informed concerning his ** boys " after they 
passed out into the world. With some he corresponded, many 
visited him ; many again came within the sphere of his benign 
influence in the clerical retreats given in various parts of the 



«903.] V£i^y REV. ALPHONSE L. MAGNIEN, S.S., D.D. 82 1 

■country, and which of late years occupied much of his summer 
vacation time. 

So, in these and in other ways beside, his knowledge of our 
country and its needs grew year by year, and he became more 
thoroughly acquainted, perhaps, with our clergy and their sur- 
roundings than any other ecclesiastic in the land. When these 
things are remembered, and it is remembered, too, that he kept 
in close touch with happenings in the church of other lands, and 
kept his finger upon the pulse of mighty Rome, some idea may 
i>e had of the power and influence such a man must have 
Welded. 

This sketch, imperfect as it is, would be much more so, if 
the part taken by Father Magnien in the work of the Third 
Plenary Council were forgotten. Of the vast preliminary labor 
undergone in preparation for the assembling of that august 
body Father Magnien bore a goodly share. During the Coun- 
cil he was theologian to the Archbishop of Baltimore, who 
presided over its deliberations as Delegate of the Holy See. 
Father Magnien was, moreover, a member of the special com- 
mission on cferical education, and as such had much to do in 
shaping the action of the Council in founding the Catholic* 
University, and in placing that institution, not in the hands of 
any religious body but under the immediate care and control of 
the American hierarchy. 

When Father Magnien became superior of St. Mary's Sem- 
inary, that house and St. Charles' College were the only Sul- 
pician houses in the United States. He aided in the founda- 
tion of St. John's Seminary, at Boston; St. Joseph's Seminary, 
at Dunwoodie, New York; St. Patrick's Seminary, at Menlo 
Park, California; and St. Austin's College, affiliated to the 
Catholic University, at Washington. In addition to these works. 
Father Magnien was also instrumental in the establishment of 
the Fathers of Saint Sulpice in the Divinity College at the 
Catholic University. 

Chateaubriand says : " A mighty genius speedily wears out 
the body which it animates; great souls, like great rivers, are 
liable to lay waste their banks." These words may well be 
applied to Father Magnien. Blessed with a splendid constitu- 
tion and endowed with a marvellous capacity for work, he went 
on, thinking only of others, forgetful of himself, getting no 
rest and seeking none, until nature, already prodigal in her 



822 Very REV. ALPHONSE L. Magnien, S.S., D.D. [Mar. 

bounty, refused to honor further overdrafts, and the collapse 
came. Even then he was the same brave, cheerful soldier. In- 
clined always to look on the bright side of things, he never 
fretted or faltered even when he knew full well that, humanly 
speaking, there was no bright side to his case, and that death 
was near at hand. Thankful to God for the graces and bless- 
ings of sixty-five years, patient and resigned, he was read}' to 
live and labor, ready to live and suffer, or ready to die, just as 
God willed. During his last sickness, whether in the hospital 
or in the seminary, he was with all around him, priests and 
students and physicians and nurses, patient and courteous, 
most grateful for the smallest services, most thoughtful and 
considerate. 

As he lived, so he died — a faithful priest. Fortified with 
the last Sacraments of Holy Church, amid the prayers and 
tears of his beloved brethren and children, and in the 
seminary where he had so long labored, Father Magnien's soul 
passed from earth. In Baltimore's venerable Cathedral, with all 
the stately magnificence of the Roman Ritual, amid the great 
organ's swelling strains and the solemn chant of *the surpliced 
host, the obsequies of this humble priest were celebrated. His 
faithful and devoted friend, his Eminence the Cardinal-Arch- 
bishop, sang Pontifical High Mass, and his beloved son in 
Christ, the Right Reverend Bishop of Wheeling, delivered an 
eloquent and touching eulogy. Other prelates, too, were 
present, and the throngs of priests and seminarians overflowed 
the great sanctuary and mingled with the vast concourse of 
the laity. Thence was borne all that was mortal of this soldier 
of Christ away from this scene of splendid mourning, back to 
the home of his heart. And there they laid him in the bare, 
simple graveyard of St. Mary's, where his dust shall mingle 
with that of his holy predecessors — the men who have honored 
the name of Saint Sulpice and blessed this land for more than 
a hundred years. 

Though dead. Father Magnien lives. He lives in the 
priestly sons whom he has led up to the altar of God, and in 
them this tireless worker labors still. He lives, too, in the 
hearts of all who knew and loved him. " To live in the hearts 
we leave behind is not to die." Last of all and best, he lives 
in Christ. 



50Y6B (^OSSBLYN, SlNNBF^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part III. 

A T THE TURN OF MA TURITY. 




CHAPTER VI. 

JOYCE COMES DOWN LIKE A STICK. 

ITH the ghastly face of a dead man, Hans re- 
turned, Extra Scout in hand. Without a word 
he passed it to Joyce, whose eager eyes blurred 
as he scanned it. 

"A COLOSSAL SWINDLE. 

THE PIONEER MINE 

Discovered to be the great Fake of the Season. 

Owners flee from exposure. 
Mine Deserted, Miners Unpaid. 
Authentic Details from the Scout's Special Corre- 
spondent. 
SCANDALOUS REVELATIONS PROBABLE. 

synopsis of previous chapters. 

Joyce Josselyn, bom and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farm-life, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carruth. 

Chapter IL is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Cnapter 
HI. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is tiuning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Camithdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic west. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Ravmond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter gives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which ne 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Joyce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mioa and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly, escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the FUmeer^ has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer, Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Tovce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life. 
Womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
a scheme of stock gambling. Stephen engages in social wo|-k, and tastes some of the higher 
things of life. He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
restless woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mine swindle. 



824 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Afar., 

"For some time, suspicions unfavorable to the Pioneer Mine 
have existed. The Scout, ever foremost in protecting the in- 
terests of the people, despatched its special correspondent for 
investigation on the ground. The result is the following ap- 
palling report, which the Scout feels it a painful duty to print 
verbatim. Perusal cannot but arouse general and justified in- 
dignation. No mpre cold-blooded scheme for the ruin of credu- 
lous investors is recorded ^in the tragic history of the bogus 
speculations of the West. Well-known names standing locally 
for wealth and influence, are dishonored by assdciation with 
this gigantic swindle. Let the public protest against Judases 
in the seats of the mighty. The Scout now and always cham- 
pions the cause of the people ! * Vox populi, vox Dei^ is the 
motto dictating the unswerving policy of the Scout / " 

Then followed a long and detailed account of the disguise 
of a Scout correspondent as a non-union miner, and his experi* 
ence as one of the night-shift of the Pioneer Mine. He had 
found the miners on the brink of a strike, their long-smoulder- 
ing doubt and distrust both of the Pioneer's evasive lode, and 
the good faith of its boastful owners, fanned to flame by the 
injustice of unpaid wages. The employment of scabs was like- 
wise a grievance ; and in the face of the brewing trouble, 
Messrs. Bull and Price had beaten a sudden retreat. As a 
director of the fraudulent mine, Dick Dawson was denounced 
as an unscrupulous rake; while Josselyn, as fair quarry for a 
rival journal, was condemned even more scathingly, though in 
an insidious way. Professional courtesy was preserved speciously, 
and libel nicely avoided; yet by subtle attack from safe 
ambush, the honorable Pioneer was accused of dishonorable 
methods, and its policy convicted of selfish rather than popular 
ends. It was intimated that with the passing of Jim Raymond, 
had passed, too, bis politically neutral organ. Under the guise 
of neutrality, public interests were being betrayed, and the 
cause of the great American democracy deserted at the nod of 
Republican . trusts and corporations! This was a hit at Colonel 
Pearson, who was a howling Republican in his proper person; 
but editorially, he had followed Raymond's neutral policy, and 
the aspersion was undeserved. 

As Joyce's eyes skimmed the malignant lines, a thousand 
and one reminiscences flashed upon his sub-consciousness. He 
recalled the Colonel's warnings against the mine, and his 
righteous wrath when the Pioneer had puffed it: he remem- 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 825 

bered Stephen's intelligent caution, and even his own instinctive 
distrust of Bull and Price, and his misgivings when Hans had 
invested. — Hans! His startled eyes lifted to the blond face 
before him, in an instant so changed as to be almost unrecog- 
nizable. The child-like blue eyes stared ahead in a horror of 
hopelessness; the weakly sweet, fresh- lipped mouth was parched 
and contracted : the fair, flushed skin was ashen and shrivelled 
in texture, as though the blighting hand of death already had 
touched it. And this was but the first-fruit of his reckless 
sowing ! Beyond Hans, he saw the old mother, the young 
sweetheart in Germany, — dreaming happily of the humble home 
now lost to them for ever ! And these were but types of hun- 
dreds and thousands of toilers who had trusted him, — sweat- 
soiled men and pain- racked women, struggling heroically to 
support their little families 1 With a stifled groan he cast down 
the paper, just as the Colonel reappeared in the doorway. His 
face was apoplectic, his rage defiant even of the presence of 
Mam'selle. He strode to Joyce's side, his clenched hand beat- 
ing the air as he stormed in anger's guttural utterance. 

" You scamp, you fool, you knave, you adventurer,^-did n't 
I tell you this mine was a fake ? Did n't I warn you that the 
Pioneer would be made your scapegoat? Out with you to the 
streets, and see the bulletins all San Francisco is reading ! Jim 
Raymond and I are dishonored by your dishonor. You have 
ruined the record of the Pioneer, It and I repudiate you, you 
Yankee upstart ! Out you go, — you hear me ? Out ! " 

" O Colonel ! " protested the women, closing about the in- 
furiate editor. But their intercession was gratuitous. Joyce did 
not stay to profit by it. Even as the Colonel was still abusing 
him, he was on his headlong way to the street. 

Hans followed him, in blankest silence. The simplicity of 
his nature made his despair utter. His hopes had been so 
bright, — and their blight so sudden ! Under the blow he stag- 
gered dumbly. Yet his resentful heart was straining to find its 
voice ! The Scout office was not far from Joyce's quarters. An 
increasing crowd was massing before the bulletins. In the blaze 
of the electric lights illuminating the lingering twilight, Joyce 
read the posters while still nearly half a block away: 

"THE PIONEER MINE DISCOVERED TO BE A FRAUD. 
Western Investors the Victims of Clever Swindlers. 

vol. lxxvi. — 53 



826 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [Mar. 

Happy Homes and Humble Hopes go down in the Wreck. 
Names to Conjure with, pail the Public Trust. 
Richard Dawson, Jr., and Joyce Josselyn, of our esteemed Con- 
temporary THE Pioneer, Responsible for Local Losses." 

" My God ! " repeated Joyce, halting on the outskirts of the 
crowd. Like many a man of godless life, he was facing the 
truth that in crucial hours God alone is humanity's refuge. 

But Hans, with the unhappy atheism of the German social- 
ist misled by Haeckel, Schopenhauer, and Strauss, echoed the 
Divine Name with irreverent bitterness. 

" Gott ! he cried, with a fierce oath. " You call on your 
God, you f Then * Unser Gott^ — the God of the men you 
ruin, — where is He ? " 

'' Hans I " cried Joyce, in incredulous pain. It was the 
heart-cry of Caesar, — " Et tu Brute I " 

Attracted by the voices, a few men at the rear of the crowd 
turned to glance at the speakers. Then the news of Joyce's 
presence spread like wild- fire through the ranks. With the 
murmur characteristic alike of humanity and nature — of an angry 
mob and a sullen sea — the living mass quivered, surged back, 
and engulfed him. It swept Hans along with him, so that 
master and man, tempter and victim, stood shoulder to shoulder 
like fellow- soldiers, and the martial suggestion that fired Joyce 
physically, challenged Hans' moral heroism ! Better than Joyce, 
he knew the dangerous temper of the masses ; and, waiving 
his own grievance, championed him whom odds were against 
Towering and handsome as a Wagnerian demigod, he clasped 
his hand protectingly on Joyce's shoulder. 

" Boys, he meant all right," he cried, appealingly. Yet his 
voice choked tragically. The difference between Joyce's in- 
tention and his deed was the difference between Hans' life and 
death, not only figuratively, but in Hans' godlessly pessimistic 
outlook, literally. 

Joyce fought his way by force through the crowd to the 
front. His charge was so sudden and fierce that it conquered 
by its courage. A sudden rage against his position burned in 
his heart. He to be the scapegoat of Bull and Price, in public 
opinion ? He to be contemned by the Colonel ? He to be 
accursed by Hans and his kind, as their heartless miner? He 
to be threatened by this brutal mob ? He to be championed by 
the man who, but a moment before, had accused him most 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 827 

bitterly ? All the pride, all the success, all the self- love and 
confidence, all the hauteur potential in the conscious superior, 
that had been sown and fostered in Joyce by his years of pros- 
perity, asserted their supremacy in the face of defeat. The 
exultation of the afternoon was still upon him. The glow of 
the lights and the perfume of the flowers, the passionate music 
still echoing in his ears, the triumph of the favor of fair women 
and men of wealth and eminence, inspired him to resist and 
defy his downfall. Was he to be flung from honor to dishonor 
by mischance of fate, at the word of this rabble — hef Reach* 
ing the Scout building, he mounted its steps at a leap, and 
faced about fearlessly. The crowd swaying after him paused, 
then fell back uncertainly. The man had been in peril ; but for 
the moment, at least, the gentleman was safe ! The grand air, 
the air noble, has its ethical uses. It quells the wild beast that 
rages in the breast of the unconstrained multitude, and bids it 
slink back to its lair. 

'' You know me," he said ; and at the sound of his voice 
stillness fell upon the crowd. *'/'m the Josselyn mentioned 
in this lying bulletin. Yes, boys, it's a damnable lie!" 

" That 's a libel," called a wag from overhead, where the 
windows were opening; but the sullen-faced crowd was in no 
humor to jest. It growled dissent to Joyce's statement, and 
surged forward threateningly. 

"It is a lie," he repeated, "inasmuch as it implies that 
Dawson and I have floated a swindle. I don't say the Pioneer 
Mine may not have petered out! I don't say that Bull and 
Price have not absconded. But I do say that Dawson and I 
are as clean- banded as you are, and that if you lose, we lose 
with you!" 

"Oh, that's too thin, young feller," cried a voice from the 
rear. " It was you swells got us poor cnaps into it ! " 

" That it was ! " 

" Right you are ! " 

" Curse them for it I " a deep voice added. 

Joyce paled, not with fear, but with remorse. 

" I am sorry to hear you say that," he answered, " but 
since you say it, I believe you. Well, then, so far as ' I can 
see things, your losses are on my own and Dawson's shoulders. 
I can't promise to make them good till I know their extent 
and learn his spirit ; but to my utmost power, I '11 do the 



•828 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Mar., 

square thing by you. Boys," he cried, with a pathetic break 
in his voice, — " Boys, on honor, / believed in this mine! " 

Cries of "Rats!" "Taffy!" and "Tommy- rot! " emphasized 
by hoots and hisses, commingled with murmurs of sympathy. 
The sentiment of the crowd was divided, and therefore more 
dangerous than when unanimous, since on the ragged edg^e of 
counter assertion and conflict! But Joyce's temper was up 
and his spirit undaunted. Moreover, the Colonel's arraignment 
was rankling fiercely. Coals of fire should be his noble 
revenge! He had vital words still to say. 

"You may believe me or doubt me. That's your funeral, 
not mine," he cried, wrathfuUy. " I stand on my truth, and 
no lies can down me! Take me at my own valuation, or 
leave me, as you like ; but by taking me, I promise you '11 not 
be the losers ! Send your middlemen to my rooms, with my 
friend and yours, Hans Kauffmann, and through them I '11 do 
the decent thing by you, up to the last dollar I've got in the 
world ! As I can't do beyond that — this closes the subject ! 
Now I've something on another point to say to you!" 

The crowd was conciliated. The brusque, curt, imperious 
address pleased and subjugated it. Renewed faith in Joyce 
waxed with new-born respect for his spirit and courage. 

" It 's just this," he continued, and his voice rang out 
clearly, with a new note of dignity, of fine moral strength in 
it; "I'm no longer on the staff of the Pioneer! On the 
ground of this report, I 'm kicked out of my job ; and perhaps 
that will show you that the Pioneer stands by your interests. 
You all know what 'green-eyed jealousy' is — 'cruel as the 
grave'! I put it to the honor and justice of you level-headed 
fellows : Was it a square deal for the Scout to spring this thing on 
the public and the Pioneer simultaneously ? Would not an 
honest spirit have challenged us openly, and not worked against 
us like a coward in the dark ? Would not a generous rival 
have given us the benefit of the doubt — at least till it heard our 
side ? Is it a fair thing to visit on the Pioneer and Colonel 
Pearson the mistake that is mine solely, and against which the 
Colonel solemnly warned me ? Boys, you all loved Jim Ray- 
mond, and knew that he stood by you ! Who was his trusted 
partner in life ? To whom did he bequeath his Pioneer in death ? 
Who, though well-known individually as a loyal Republican, has 
buried the political hatchet, and stood journalistically as a non- 



1903] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 829 

partisan champion of the greatest good for the greatest number? 
What local paper, through the temptations of the fiercest cam- 
paigrn, has challenged the politicians in the interests of the* 
populace? Who but Jim Raymond's successor^ COLONEL * 
PEARSON ! What but Raymond's voice that survives him^ 
THE PIONEER ! Boys, judge between the mean and under- 
hand methods bulletined against itself by the short-sighted 
Scout^ and the glorious spirit of the Pioneer^ serving no private 
ends, opening its arena to both sides of every public question, 
and standing always for the cause of the Western people! 
Three cheers for THE PIONEER ! Thtee cheers for COLONEL 
PEARSON ! And as for Dawson and Josselyn — you '11 find 
we're all right!*' 

The crowd took up the cheers, with the veering mood of' 
the masses swayed by a master. From the windows overhead 
the Scout staff had been observing the effect of their bulletins- 
with complacent interest ; but as Joyce turned the tide of public 
opinion against them, excitement of less complacent order was' 
evident, and as he continued, they rang up the police. A squad 
both mounted and on foot responded, but only a chaffing inter- 
change of sallies between officers and civilians resulted. The* 
crowd was now in good nature ; and with the official command 
to disperse expressed in the trenchant slang, '' Now, boys, get a 
gait on!" the mounted police "loped" away in peace, leaving 
the fray to their unmounted brethren. As they began to en- 
force the captain's order, the boom around the corner of a- 
handsome automobile caused a diversion, sustained by the 
general recognition of Dick Dawson, who, reducing his reckless 
pace as the sight of the bulletins and crowd surprised him, 
beamed downward in tipsy joviality. The liveried footman in 
charge of the hamper leaped down to terra firma with an 
alacrity betraying unvalorous relief. The trial-trip of Dick's 
auto had been a delight to its chaffeur, but an agony to its 
lacky. Champagne had inspired Dick to break all records; 
and the auto's speed had increased with each cork popped. 

"W — w'at's the r-row?" he stuttered, as he halted.- 
** W-w'at* s matter with Pioneer Mine ? Pioneer Mine 's all 
right ! " His leer at the tragic faces upturned to him was madden- 
ing. When in wine, life was a colossal jest to Dick. But his 
laugh at it, now, was solitary. 

The sullen boom of the sea again resounded in the crowd's 



Sjo Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Mar., 

low menace. From the first, feeling had been stronger against 
Dick than Joyce, and the public mood rebounded to ugliness. 
Joyce, at worst, was a worker — a sober server for daily bread; 
—Dick was a dissipated youth of leisure; and the undevitalized 
Westerner of the hustling type has small sympathy with such. 
All the guilt of the failure of the Pioneer Mine was suddenly 
laid at Dick's door. 

" There 's the cock that swindled us ! " 
" It 's our cash that pays for his fizz and carriages ! " 
" Knock him off his fine perch ! " 
" Give the dude a taste of our street-mud, boys." 
" Hell to him and his kind ! They 're the ruin of us ! " 
Recognizing that trouble was brewing, the police formed a 
cordon, and charged with clubs; but neither they, nor Hans 
and Joyce, forcing their way to the rescue, were in time to 
save Dick from the onslaught of the crowd, which with no de- 
fined malicious purpose, but on mere brutal impulse, mobbed 
the car, representative in its costly luxury of the Juggernaut, 
Monopoly I Dick, no coward out of his cups, and a reckless 
swaggerer in them, defiantly started the auto at full speed, and 
in his excitement, and, alas ! his unsteadiness of foot, was pitched 
forward by the initial jerk, and over the side, simultaneously! 
Striking heavily, he rolled half-way under the car just as the 
rear wheels, with their awful weight, crushed over him. The 
sickening jolt of the carriage told the story. Strong hands 
stopped it short, and its invaders descended with suddenly 
blanched faces, and lost themselves in the crowd. None in 
particular had caused the accident, — no individual was responsi- 
ble for it Dick's slip had been his own; his fatal fall, the 
chance of destiny. None had forced it, none could have saved 
him from it. It was Kismet, as all things are! 

" O Dick ! " cried Joyce, beating back the crowd with un- 
conscious fury, and dropping on his knee by his side. "Are 
you hurt, boy ? Have these brutes killed you ? " 

Quite sobered by the shock and pain of his fall, Dick lay 
on his side, ghastly-faced but smiling. What was it all about, 
— this fume and fuss, anyway ? Why not leave him to lie in 
this delicious languor ? The air was cool on his face, and he 
felt — like — sleeping. Just for a moment it had been terrible— 
the headlong pitch downward, — the thud and twist, — and then 
the awful crunch and agony, as the auto passed over him. But 



1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 831 

now it was all so calm, so painless I Not to move— -just to 
stay where he was, — 

A gong clanged in the distance, and the crowd parted and 
fell back towards the curbstone, as the ambulance which the 
police had summoned drew up and slanted down its litter. 
The ambulance-surgeon displacing Joyce authoritatively, made 
an examination, and then rose palely. 

" He 's a goner t " he whispered. " The poor chap's back is 
broken. And there are fatal internal injuries," 

But Dick smiled on peacefully. His fevered head, his 
nervous young frame, at last knew utter repose, — the rest of 
the lotus-eater. When the litter was slipped under him, it did 
not hurt him. The doctor shook his head. The numbness of 
paralysis was the presage of death. It was a hopeless, a fatal 
sign. 

"Where to?" he asked gently. 

"Pacific Ave — " began Joyce, but Dick's voice interrupted 
him. It had the pathos of childhood in it. 

" Home's too far — and too — lonely I Let me go— to Joss' 
rooms ! " 

As Joyce, with quivering face, followed him into the 
ambulance, a dozen remorseful voices proffered service. 

" His father I " 

"Where's old Dawson?" 

" Send for the old man I " 

" He 's his only son ! " 

" Fetch him, you, Hans," chose Joyce. " Dick, where can 
we rtach your father?" 

" He 's due — ^by the Overland. I was on my way — to meet 
him," gasped Dick; and then the slow tears welled into his 
eyes. Death's approach is the signal for tender regrets. Never 
again would Dick meet the Overland train, never again cry 
" Hullo, pater ! Thought a spin behind my mare would shake 
off the car-dust ! " 

They had been but fitful companions, — the rough old man 
engrossed in vast financial affairs, and the idle young son whose 
birthright of wealth had been his ruin ; — never friends, in the 
true sense of congeniality and comradeship ; yet in their own 
way, they had loved each other, though with love unwise on 
one side, and selfish on the other. Unassociated by home-life, 
since wife and mother had been long years in her grave, and 



832 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Mar,, 

Dick had neither sister nor brother, yet the idle young spend- 
thrift had had the grace never to be ashamed of the '' g^xand 
old pater" who turned rock into gold, and Dawson senior, a 
rough man of lowly origin, had been weak enough to be proud 
of his son's " swell " habits, though deploring his wilder ex- 
cesses. 

From Joyce's suite, all save Mam'selle and Dolly had de- 
parted. Breezy had found it impossible to resist her baby; 
and Imogen and Gladys, in concession to convention, had pre- 
ferred the privileged Mam'selle to represent them upon Joyce's 
uncertain return. On the decorated table the festive supper 
still waited untouched. The scandalized waiter had fed the 
fires of the alcohol lamps, and renewed the ice at patient in- 
tervals, until passing from forlorn hope to utter despair, he had 
fled from the banquet-hall deserted, to storm in the nether 
kitchen ! Now, the ice melted desolately, and the alcohol- 
flames flickered and went out. The candles already burned 
low, and the roses drooped on brink of dissolution. The 
pathetic side of human festivity was uppermost as poor Dick 
was carried in. 

Upon the divan in the smoking-room they laid him, by his 
expressed desire. The room's fragrant smoke, its fumes of 
wine, its familiar billiard-table, made up his accustomed ele- 
ment. He clung to it now, with pathetic impotence. Some- 
thing in his heart warned him of coming transition. He had 
kept his heart through it all, poor Dick ! Perhaps this was the 
reason that his soul was not dead in him. It spoke to him 
now, with strange awe, fear, remorse. The tears in his eyes 
welled over. 

"Ah, le pauvre/*' sobbed Mam'selle, when they told her of 
his destiny. Then the specialists and surgeons summoned for 
consultation took possession of the room, in a body. For a 
few moments there was suspense; then they fell back help- 
lessly, and all save the family physician departed. Dick, smil- 
ing no longer, knew the significance of the departure. His 
eyes glanced about the room appealingly. 

In an instant Mam'selle was on her knees by his side. 

" O mon filSf tnon pauvre Jils, God bless you ! " she mur- 
mured, with a caress on his hair. 

"I never — ^knew my mother, — " he panted, and his lips 
quivered. Perhaps he was thinking that had his life indeed 



1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 833 

been mothered, his death might have beeoT-with a differ- 
ence! 

In an ice-pail in the supper- room champagne was cooling. 
The doctor seized it, and held a brimming glass to Dick's lips. 
But after the first sip, Dick shut his ty^s in revulsion. In the 
face of death, champagne lost savor. 

There was a clock on the mantel, and it chimed the eighth 
hour. His eyes sought the door. They were glazing slowly. 
The pater — must come quickly,— or — or — 

But suddenly, with life's final flicker, the dying eyes bright- 
ened luminously. A noisy clang of the elevator, a ponderous 
tread in the hall, and big, grizzly- haired, rugged-featured Rich- 
ard Dawson, in bearskin-overcoat and Kossuth hat, with a gold 
cord round it, stood on the threshold. At the sight of the wan 
face turned toward him eagerly, yet upoji which the seal of 
Death was hopelessly evident, he sprang forwaid with a groan 
of grief. 

" O my boy ! O my Dick ! " he cried, in incredulous 
anguish. Was immunity from the common fate something that 
even his millions could not buy? 

'' Poor pater ! " sobbed Dick, and pressed his hand convul- 
sively. 

Poor pater ! How much lay in that simple adjective ! Filial 
confession, contrition, too late longing to make amends I 
Earthly and heavenly fathers alike understood it! Dick's 
death-bed was to set his life right. 

The film on his eyes was deepening rapidly. Only the 
physician knew the heroic effort by which he sustained con- 
sciousness. Against the oblivion gaining upon him, he set the 
will of his life. He must die true to Joss, who had trusted 
him. 

"Pater, promise me — to square Joss — with the — Pioneers," 
he panted. " Don't leave him — in the hole — / forced him into ! 
Do by him — as you would have done — ^by me ! " 

" As by you, Dick, even to my bottom dollar ! Oh, my 
boy, my boy ! what use are my millions to me now ? " 

Was it the tremor of a sob, or the shadow of a smile, that 
flitted over Dick's face, in answer ? Mam'selle, on her knees, 
murmured a prayer for the dying. Upon impulse, she flashed 
back to his side. 

** Enfanty* she said, making the sign of the cross on his* 



*34 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Man, 

'orehetd, "die not without one prayer to your Saviour! You 
»re baptited? Yes? Then you have only to believe, — to 
fa ope,— to love,— -to repent! The Blood, the Cross of Christ, 
^W'ill do the rest. — Speak His Name, pauvre enfant, speak ! " 
•• Chritt ! •* 

It was the inchoate, child-like sobbing cry of the ignorant, 
yet believing and good-willed soul. It was enough. The grace 
^liat sanctifies Mswered. 

Ai If by miracle. Dick's spiritual sight was illumined. He 
w hit young, manly, wealth-entrusted life as it should have 
^ sen, at it might hav« been, — and alas, as in hideous contrast, 
i t had been I Krom the brink of eternal sUence he called back 
«:o hii father the "iWaW of the penitent soul. 

O pater, — " he murmured, — and all confession, all repen- 
**"^/ ^"^ '" ***" <J««th.cry,— " O pater, it-^id n' t—pay ! " 

Then, with remorae unutterable in his boyish eyes, they 
cloned un hia earth-Ufe for ever! 

" h i/iii n*t fmy f •• 

, /'[ * ***** utterance, O prodigal Dick, to echo through the 

^' I 1 1- .'!*"* *'"^'' *»««th.bed ! Not a bad thing for Dolly, Joyce, 

«« i M.ii... *i ^**'^'^®n,— -your testimony that the wine, women, 

t#%«iMi«t^iiliiil a«u"*4 ? ^^ ^^'''''^ ""* feasting,— the ribald 
t l««* III Mil M I "^®^ng, — ^the idle days and revelrous nights, — 

• l^Mlh iUhuf!!l tu^^ ^' y^^^ ^""^"^ life,— did not pay, when 
•W<^.7j;;^;^^<^'^<>ning! 

f ^«««i«lMM U III i| j ^P«^ for you, dead Dick, since contrite con- 

ltff«^« ^'^^ i«llp *i ^^^ your last breath defended your prodigal 

^t%»t hIiUmI \{\^ }^ •elfish, the wasteful and wasted, the godless 

^ •« %'»*»! Ilvnit ^ ^^nton sensual existence, — then had you died 

^. %♦!•• I'rtlhMi'J I ^* ^ *^P««itant and unregenerate, an outcast from 

^ ^1 iiiMlny I ||i||* ^^*^» ^o which, beyond the grave, there were no 

^^ ^ ♦^'M/ /f.^^fvv **^^ ^^^ ^' ^^^ prodigal,— " /a/A^, / kme sinned 

\ .^ * ^ t^\ m^ Z!,^*' ^</;w Tkft. I am not now wartJ^ to be 

^-1 • • '" Hihl n^^* *obbed anew in your death-cry, "// didn^t 

1^ |. \ lnui\ ui^ , ^"^'^ ^hat was lost upon sinful earth, God found, 

^^» in heaven! 

|li4Mi Hiw W^m^i '^^^me too •* lonely •• to shrine his young life 

^^^ tuvUiv^naire*s son was borne in deadi; then, 



1903-] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 835 

father and son, — living age and dead youth, — were left for the 
night together, Maoi'selle, still weeping softly as she re-entered 
her carriage, gestured Joyce to follow her, whispering, between ' 
her sobs, the inspirative message that Mrs. Raymond musf 
speak to him to-night, — however late the hoUr ! " 

•' But Joyce, glancing from Mam'selle to Dolly, and back to 
the deserted steps of the stately Dawson mansion, of a sudden 
missed Hans, who had disappeared mysteriously, even as Dick's 
redeemed spirit had departed ! Why had he stolen away with- 
out a word, — where had he fled, — Hans with the blasted hopes, 
Hans with the anguished face, Hans with the despair in his 
soul of the agnostics of his race, when temporal blights over- 
whelm them ? Like a vision before Joyce's eyes, rose the little 
cottage in Oakland I Yes, Hans would be there, — taking his 
farewell-look at his house of dreams, — bidding good-by to 
love's little home, — then, perhaps, gazing hopelessly, recklessly, 
into the blue waters of the bay, — the waters of death, of ob- 
livion, — of rest for the weary, and peace for the ache of love. 

" Dolly, see Mam'selle home for me 1 " he cried, excitedly. 
" I cannot go to Mrs. Raymond now. I must catch the next 
boat for Oakland 1 " 

" Hans ! " his guilty soul cried fearfully, distracting htm 
from psychical consciousness of Imogen's heart-cry, as she 
watched the red flames of her boudoir's Are, — 

" TAfs is my hour, — my hour and his ! — Come to me, Joyce, — 
Joyce, Joyce, come ! " 

(TO BE CONTINUED.) 



+ 


ie( 


IDiews anb IReviews. 


« 


^ 



z. FiirleM: The Gathering of Brother Hilarius ; 2. Wood-Martin: Tracts of the 
Elder Faiths of Ireland; 3. B. C. G. : The Young Christian Teacher En- 
couraged; or^ Objections to Teaching Answered ; 4. Vitelleschi : Lfi Quesiioue 
Religiosanei Pbpoli Laiini ; 5. Sully: An Essay on Laughter ; 6. Picdrelli : 
De Deo Una et Irino Disputationes Iheologicce; 7. Lcmotne : Mhnoifes des 
^viques de France sur la ConduitedL tenir d I *igarddes Riformis ; 8. 
7 he Four Feathers ; 9. Bunks: Oldfield ; 10. Trerelyan: Sunday, 



1, — The Gathering of Brother Hilarius^ is a book that is 
given forth publicly to the greater honor and glory of God. The 
volume is another evidence of the increasing literary interest in 
the writings of pre- Reformation times. The growing popularity 
of such bpoks is a proof that the world, like the individual 
oftentimes, hankers after that which it does not possess, and 
surely the restful, retired, monastic atmosphere which the 
volume breathes is very foreign to our modern life. 

Brother Hilarius is from infancy educated within the walls of 
the monastery. Once, before his profession, he gets a glimpse 
of real life, as the modern world puts it, through the talk and 
actions of a dancing-girl whom he meets in the forest. Then 
comes the doubt of bis vocation, and Prior Stephen sends him 
forth to travel and to learn, to hunger and to love. After 
some years he comes back, unscathed, and ends his life as a 
monk in heroic sacrifice for his fellow- men. 

We may say that the book is written in an unusually charm- 
ing style. The author grasps in some measure the spirit of 
monasticism, but it had stronger food to live upon than the 
numerous visions and dreams which play so frequent and im- 
portant a part in the narrative. But the basic principle of the 
theme, namely, that one must know the world and sin and 
temptation to prove himself faithful, is utterly false. Heroic 
strength and saintly virtue may be attained by the soul that is 
ever alone with God within the quiet walls of the convent, and 
it may realize perfectly the hunger and thirst of souls in the 
world without seeking for a temptation like unto St. Anthony's. 
More than this, the contemplative life is a life efficacious for 
others as well as for one's self. This is what the author fails 
to realize fully. He feels that he must compromise between 

• The GatAirin^ of Brother Hilarius. By Michael Fairless. New York : E. P. Dutton ft 
Co. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 837 

modern realism and ancient idealism, and so introduces a scene 
which is quite " spicy " and which many a morbid mind will 
read because of its very morbidness. To show forth the beauty 
of virtue, it is not necessary to depict vice. Virtue has a 
beauty besides that of contrasts. 

That is the only objection we have against this otherwise 
most wholesome, beautiful story. Otherwise it is elevating, 
deeply religious, sincere, strong, and healthy — a most acceptable 
volume to which we would accord a very high measure of 
praise. Perhaps if one reads between the lines he will find it 
to be an allegory with a present-day application, namely, that 
there are numbers of souls in the world to-day who hunger for 
the lov^ of God and to whom the ministers of religion should 
carry food and drink. If such was the author's meaning, the 
volume is still more acceptable. 

2. — Two beautiful volumes • have come to us, dealing with 
the folk-lore and pre-Christian traditions of Ireland. They are 
full of interest to the archaeologist and the historian ; for never 
was any land so rich in tender legend, in fearsome tradition, 
and in charming myth as the home of the mystical Celt. What 
with their holy wells and their sacred trees, their cursing- 
stones and their hags'- chairs, their children overlooked and 
their cattle bewitched, their charms and amulets and omens, 
their imps and fairies and leprauchauns, the ancient Irish lived 
in the very borderland of sense and spirit, of this world and 
the next. And besides, in this traditional history of Ireland 
there occur questions which, though somewhat outside a folk* 
lore study, possess a keen interest for those who like their 
archaeology enlivened with a dash of controversy. Such ques- 
tions Mr. Wood- Martin discusses now and then in a brief but 
interesting manner. For example : Were the ancient Irish can- 
nibals ? Our author says they were ; but rather inconclusive; we 
think, is the testimony of his principal witness, St. Jerome, 
whose account of the Irish, by the way, is certainly terrifying. 
They live like beasts, he says, with a community of wives 
and the civilization of a sheep-pen. Other debatable issues 
are raised about which our one regret is that the presentation 
of proofs is too often curt and unsatisfying. Still, we wish to 
give credit to the industry and skill of Mr. Wood- Martin in his 

• Trcues ojtht Elder Faiths of Ireland: A Folk-Lore Sketch. By W. G. Wood-Martin, 
M.R.I.A. New York: Loogmans, Green ft Co. 1903. 



838 ViEivs AND Reviews. [Mar.^ 

compilation of Irish folk-lore, and to the ardor of his archaeo- 
logical sense. One thing, however, positively disfigures his 
work. On the slightest provocation, or whenever the mood 
strikes him, and without any provocation, he drags in sarcastic 
flings at theology and the obscurantism of theologians. He re- 
peats over and over again the venerable taunt that science has 
disconcerted faith, and says, we know not how many weary 
times, that the modern man of learning must withdraw from 
the superstitions of ancient beliefs. This is most unscientific, 
since the relation of religion to science is in no way his theme ; 
and it gives one the impression that Mr. Wood- Martin is iterat- 
ing a catch- word which has taken his fancy, rather than utter- 
ing conclusions which are the product of long and solemn 
thought. It should have occurred to him that people who wish 
to read a folk-lore study may not wish to peruse simultane- 
ously a polemic against Christianity. 

8. — Here is a rare book * in a lamentably neglected province 
of pedagogry. How many books there are which aim at the 
mental training of children ; how few which attempt the spirit- 
ual consolation of teachers I Yet the problem of problems lies 
in the teacher, not in the child. If she is spiritless and dis- 
pleased in her vocation, if she is troubled by her class and 
discouraged at her failure, of what use are all the theories in the 
world ? Her own heart and soul are sick ; how can she g^ve 
health to others ? The book under review is an effort and a 
noble one to sustain the teacher in these crises of her life. It 
-is primarily a spiritual book, and is directly written for religious 
who teach, but its wise and gentle counsels, its comforting and 
encouraging tone, its spirit of resignation and of zeal, will 
uplift the heart of any teacher and prepare it for prayer and 
grace from on high. We cordially wish this work success. It 
deserves supreme success, since its purpose is to confirm in 
their great vocation those who are doing, often with but scanty 
thanks, a mighty work for God in this country — a work of vast 
consequences both for time and eternity. 

4. — It is a perplexing and distressing question, that con- 
cerning the present religious condition of Latin Europe. The 
brochure t at hand offers some valuable considerations for 

*The Youn^ Christian Teacher Encouraged; or, Objections to Teaching Answered. By 
B. C. G. With an Introduction by Bishop Spalding. St. Louis : B. Herder. 

\ La Questione Religiosa net Popoli Latini, Per II Marchcse F. Nobile Vitelleschi. Firenze: 
Uflicio della " Rassegna Nazionale." 1902. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 839 

coming to definite conclusions about it — conclusions, however, 
from which one would wish to escape. The development of 
history, says the Marchese Vitelleschi, has left these peoples in 
the iron grip of the ancient Roman civilization. Customs of 
their own, a national spirit of their own, they do not possess. 
Their career has been a process of riveting the tighter the 
harness of past centuries, instead of a process of achieving an 
ever distincter national individuality. And in the develop- 
.ment of practical religion among these nations, too often they 
have distorted the idea of divine Providence to signify a 
capricious Deity attending to their prayers and ex votas, and have 
thereby lost the sense of self-reliance and of the necessity for 
spontaneous effort which so eminently characterizes the pro- 
gressive races of the world. Whatever be said' of these con- 
tentions, it is obvious that the present condition of the Latin 
races is, from a religious point of view, most lamentable. The 
cause ? The cause lies very deep down in history, and we are 
far from saying that the present pamphlet has not hit very 
close to it. 

5. — We confess that of all the psychological treatises which 
we ever heard of or read. Dr. James Sully's Essay on Laughter^ 
is the fullest of fascination and of genuine and genial human 
interest. It is, of course, a technical study in experimental 
psychology. The name of the author is enough to show that. 
But to a remarkable degree the book is pervaded with the 
spirit of the subject it treats of, and leads even an unlearned 
reader by glad and lightsome ways into an understanding of the 
scientific problems involved. The phenomena presented by the 
misogelast, or laughter-hater; the agelast, or non-laugher; the 
gelast, who is the laugher himself, and the hypergelast, who is 
the laugher gone intemperate, are looked into, and as far as 
possible accounted for, by Dr. Sully. Smiles, tickling, play, 
humor, the laugh in its origin and its varieties, in the savage 
and in the infant, and finally a good study on the uses and 
benefits of laughter, are the principal topics of this valuable 
work. Dr. Sully himself is a pronounced laughter- lover. He 
quotes approvingly Carlyle's saying : " No man who has once 
heartily and wholly laughed can be altogether irreclaimably 
bad." Stevenson still more loftily speaks in behalf of hilarity. 

* An Essay OH Laughter, By James Sully, M. A., LL.D. New York: Longmans, Green 
& Co. 1903. 



840 Views and Reviews, [Mar., 

" As laborarif* he says, " so joculari est orare,** We heartily 
endorse what Dr. Sully says on the moral and social good 
effects of laughter, and wish well to his book as both a study 
and a promoter of the jovial in human life. 

6. — ^Joseph Piccirelli, S.J., who is known to philosophical 
and theological students as the author of De Deo Disfiutationes 
Metaphysicce, has brought out a volume, De Deo Disputationes 
Theologicce,* It is a gigantic work of fourteen hundred pages. 
It contains in extenso all the questions and controversies eie 
Deo which have from immemorial time engaged or agitated the 
schola theologorum. Of his treatment of these matters we must 
be summary in our criticism. The author displays a wide 
knowledge of patrology and a masterly acquaintance with theo- 
logical speculation. One regret we have to express. It is that 
in handling the few questions which have a modern and prac- 
tical as distinguished from a technical and speculative interest, 
Father Piccirelli has been far too brief. In treating of the 
proofs for God's existence, of Divine Providence, and of the 
Divinity of Christ, there is too little heed given to the new 
face put upon such questions by modern learning and modem 
thought. It involves a good deal of risk in these days to 
quote the Messianic psalms and the Isaian prophecies, as prov- 
ing our Lord's divinity, without a pretty careful defence of 
these proofs from modern attacks. Still in the field of specula- 
tion, which after all is the one most familiar to scholastic theo- 
logians, our author is profound, erudite, and tenacious of the 
traditional positions of his school and order. 

7. — ^The volume edited by M. Jean Lemoine f is indispensable 
to every scientific student of European history. It is known even 
to the man in the street, that we are in our days arriving at a truer 
and fuller knowledge of history than any previous age has been able 
to acquire ; and that the chief reason of our good fortune is the 
publication of original documents which are only now appearing 
before the world. History is no longer a department of polemics ; 
historians have ceased to be party pamphleteers. Nowadays the 
genuine man of research goes straight to the ultimate sources — 

* De Deo Uno et Trino Disputationes Theologica. Auctore Josepho Piccirelli, S.J. 
Neapoli : Typis Michaelis d'Auria. 1902. 

t Mimoires des Aviques de France sur la Conduite i tenir a Vigard des Riformis (1698). 
Publics _avec une Introduction par Jean Lemoine. Paris : Alphonse Picard et Fils. 1908. 



1903.] Views and Reviews. 841 

state papers, chartularies, archives, and literary museums — and, 
heedless of any prepossessions of schools or systems, gives to 
the reader the facts as they are. Sometimes, it is true, this 
method means plain speaking where before there had been 
cautious reserve or disingenuous apology ; frequently, too, it 
means the upsetting of many venerable prejudices; but greater 
than these slight discomfitures is the power of truth. It is a 
pleasure to reflect that Catholics have a glorious share in this 
new and splendid development of historic science. We have 
illustrious names in the catalogue of modern scholars to prove 
that we have no shrinking from painful faicts, and no fear of 
downright frankness. Theiner, Duchesne, Pastor, Janssens, Dr. 
Barry, stand for scientific scholarship and an intrepid devotion 
to truth. The volume now under review is a really great 
contribution to the achievements of this school. It deals with 
an important epoch in human affairs. One conclusion is forced 
upon one from the documents reviewed, and it is that the em- 
ployment of state authority for the enforcing of any religious 
scheme is futile for the purpose intended for it, and charged 
with disaster for its promoters. M. Lemoine's compilation, we 
repeat, is a valuable historical source, and as such it must be 
highly recommended. 

8. — Mr. Mason's novel* is, in the first place, a fascinating 
story of adventure, and, in the second place, a curious inter- 
pretation of character. The hero first shows himself to be a 
dowiiright coward by resigning from his regiment just when it 
is about to be ordered to the front. Yet later, in order to 
remove from his name the stain of dishoiior, or rather in order 
to regain the love of the woman who cast him off when his 
pusillanimity was revealed, this same coward, pictured to us as 
having cowardice deep in his blood, performs acts of prodigious 
heroism, and of course wins back the lady. We confess we 
think the contradiction a violence to verisimilitude. But as a 
book of adventure this is a superb story ; and it is as a book of 
adventure that the author most likely intended it to rank. 

9. — A new "Kentucky tale of the last century" turns out 
to be a quiet story f of humble village-life in the South of 

•The Four Feathers. By A. E. W. Mason. New York : The Macmillan Co. 190a. 
t Oldfield, By Nancy Huston Banks. New York : The Macmillan Company. 1902. 
VOL. LXXVI. — 54 



842 V/EIVS AND REVIEIVS. [Mar. 

fifty years ago or less. It is a plain, sedately- moving narra- 
tion, attempting no heroics, and free from the least leaning 
towards the brazen strenuosity of our late historical novels. 
Only the folk of a Kentucky township, their narrow interests, 
their quaint peculiarities, their simple prejudices, and their un- 
obtrusive tragedies, are written down in this book. And they 
are written charmingly. All who prefer to look on the things 
of life through the glass of shnple, moderate, and chaste ex- 
pression, rather than through a whirling kaleidoscope of fren- 
zied situations and swollen style, will enjoy this novel. It is 
full of a quiet dignity and a strange atmosphere of Southern 
peace. It is an outlooking upon life, not an inlooking upon 
psychological states. It is a story of gentle beings and of 
their good, pure homes, not a materia medica of giddy brains 
and unhealthy nerves. We enjoyed it, and we commend it. 

10. — Sunday* is the title of one of the volumes in the 
Oxford Library of Practical Theology. The book is divided 
into two chief studies : one, the Sunday in histofy ; the other, 
the . Sunday in practical observance. There is an extensive 
consideration of the change in the Apostelic Church from the 
Jewish Sabbath to the Christian Sunday, and a good presenta- 
tion of the arguments which now and then one would wish to 
have at hand when in discussion with modern Sabbatarians or 
Seventh- day Adventists. The later history of Sunday- worship 
is treated very summarily indeed; until the author comes down 
to our own times, iK^en he accumulates a mass of evidence to 
show the melancholy decadence of veneration for the Lord's 
day. In the practical portion of the work suggestions are given 
by which clergymen and laity may devoutly and without too 
much burden sanctify the Sunday. These suggestions are all 
from an Anglican point of view, though some of them contain 
useful hints for the Catholic pastor of souls. 

^Sunday, By the Rev. W. B. Trevelyan, M.A.* New York: Longmans, Green & Co. 1902. 



mtm^ 



j$t ^c ^ library XTable. # # # 



7%^ Tablet {lo Jan.): Father Thurston criticises Mr. W. H. 
Mallock's arguments in the Pall Mall Magazine to prove 
that Lord Bacon wrote Montaigne's Essays. 
(17 Jan.): Tells of the lively correspondence in French 
religious reviews and papers aroused by the Abbe 
Loisy's latest book, L*j£vangile et r£glise, which is in- 
tended as a reply to Dr. Harnack. On the one hand it 
is welcomed as a triumphant answer which makes no 
needless concessions and knows nothing of minimizing. 
On the other hand it has been decried as giving away 
the cause of Catholic Christianity, or at least as an in- 
sufficient guarding of the substantial identity of Catholi- 
cism with the teaching of Jesus. The Cardinal-Arch- 
bishop of Paris has condemned the book because it was 
published without an imprimatur and is of a nature 
seriously to disturb the faith of the people on the funda- 
mental dogmas of Catholic teaching. 
(31 Jan.): Publishes a letter to Cardinal Vaughan 
from* General Agcarraga denying the statement made in 
the Contemporary Review, in an article " Catholicism v. 
Ultramontanism/* signed by *' Voces Cattiolicce^^ that the 
general as prime minister of Spain refused '' to meet his 
church- censured colleague until his confessor allowed him 
to do 50, on condition that, the meeting over, he would 
have the apartment blessed by a priest, sprinkled with 
holy water, and fumigated with incense." 

The Church Quarterly Review (Jan.) : ** The Three Churches in 
Ireland " is a surety of the history and present condi- 
tions of the Catholic, the Protestant, and the Presby- 
terian Church in Ireland. The space allotted to the 
consideration of present conditions is disappointingly small. 
The wide support given now by Presbyterian ministers 
to the movement for a settlement of the land question is 
unfavorably noticed. The object of "The Church after 
the Restoration" is "to collect scattered instances, from 
the documents and histories of the time, of the social 



844 Library Table. [M 

position of the church and the clergy, and of the nature 
of church customs and usages and the outward expres- 
sion of spiritual and devotional life." " Confession and 
Absolution " discusses the doctrine and practice of the 
early church regarding the sacrament of penance, and 
offers some suggestions for the efficacious use of confes- 
sion in the English Church. (The writer's remark that 
" the Roman Church allows her children to come to 
Holy Communion frequently without previous confes- 
sion " is misleading. Without confession immediately be- 
fore — yes; without previous confession — no^' 

The " Historical Inquiry " into the tenets of the English 
Church concerning the Holy Eucharist is continued. 
This fourth part deals chiefly with the works of Grindal, 
Edwin Sandys, Jewell, and Hooker. "The Life and 
Times of Giraldus Cambrensis" is a sympathetic sketch 
dealing with the man rather than the historian. In 
Contentio Veritatis the views of the six contributors to 
that volume receive a good deal of dissentient criticism 
mixed with occasional words of praise. Mr. Carlyle's 
essay meets with particularly unflattering notice. "The 
Credibility of the Acts of the Apostles " studies this ques- 
tion in the light of several recent works, notably those 
of the Rev. W. Rackham, Dr. Chase, Dr. Selwyn, Arch- 
bishop Benson, and the 5/. Margaret Lectures for ipo2. 
This last- mentioned volume is also the subject of a 
special article. The writer of "The Study of Greek" 
strongly deprecates any movement towards depriving that 
language . of its present dominant position in university 
education. 
Revue Benedictine (Jan.): The opening article is Dom Laurent 
Janssens* tribute to the late Dr. Bouquillon. It was at 
the Benedictine Abbey of Maredsons (the home of the 
Revue) that the great theologian spent the years devoted 
to the perfecting of his Theologia Fundamentalist While 
there he contributed many articles to the Revue over the 
signature T. B. ; and the modest cell of this " Benedic- 
tine sans cowl " was the frequent resort of monks like 
Baiimer, Berliere, Morin, and Janssens, who appreciated 
the "living library" that Providence had put at their 
disposal. He also gave lessons in apologetic at the abbey 



1903] ' Library Table. 845 

school, and always attended examinations, musjcales, and 
literary seances ; and in later life always revisited Mared- 
soiis at his frequent returns to Europe. Dom Janssens 
recalls the controversy about Dr. Bouquillon's pamphlet 
on Education, and the criticisms so little in accord with 
the soberness of the work attacked. His answers were 
calm even in the bitterness of misunderstanding and mal- 
treatment, and summed up the psychological aspect of 
the controversy when in eloquent indignation he declared : 
"There are rules of justice from which the most praise- 
worthy zeal dispenses no one." D. Janssens informs us 
that he himself was called upon in the name of prudence 
to suppress an article of his own on the pamphlet of 
Dr. Bouquillon, but hopes to publish it some day. 
La Quinzaine (16 Jan.): M. Renaudin relates in an entertain* 
ing manner how, when a child, in watching the methods 
of his mother in her charitable ministration to the poor he 
found an introduction to the social question. In his final 
instalment of "Comment Faire?" the author, analyzing 
the interplay of European politics for the last decade, 
finds Jewish-Masonic and Socialistic influences every- 
where moving towards a grand struggle in which the op- 
ponent must be a Christian Democracy called into being 
by His Holiness, Leo XHL — M. Fonsegrive (Le Mariage 
et Union Libre), after demonstrating that divorce is es- 
sentially contrary to the nature of marriage, points out 
how the excessive sway accorded to parental and marital 
authority, of both social custom and civil legislation, has 
played into the hands of the advocates of divorce. The 
writer of *' Irreligion Contemporaine et Jansenisme " con- 
siders that, in France, the Jansenistic teaching against 
frequentation of the sacraments has powerfully contributed 
to bring about the irreligion of to-day. 
(l Feb.): The author of "Comment Faire?" publishes 
some of the correspondence elicited by his invitation to 
his readers. One letter declares, " no self-respecting 
journal would print such an article." Another says, 
" La Quinzaine is full of Americanisms ; let those who like 
its policy go to their darling America, the land of Anglo- 
Saxon supremacy and vagabond «priests." A third writes : 
"I do not understand this mania to bring things up to 



846 Library Table. [Mar., 

date, since we have the words of eternal life we shall be 
good enough if we resemble our predecessors." 

Le Correspondant (10 Jan.): "La Politique fitrangere du Direc- 
toire " (M. De Lanzac de Laborie) is inspired by the 
recently published fifth volume ("Bonaparte et le Direc- 
toire ") of M. Sorel's great work, L Europe et la Revolution 
Franfaise^ M. de Lacombe brings to a close his brilliant 
sketch of Cardinal Guibert In " La vie economique et le 
mouvement social '' the author reviews the socialist op- 
position to the modern army; the recent laws touching 
the workman's liberty of contract; the socialistic con- 
ception of education ; and the abuse of the national credit 
by French statesmen in their borrowings for the past 
decade or more. There is a pretty account of a pilgrim- 
age to Rome by the Princess Louis- Ferdinand of Bavaria, 
Infanta of Spain. 

(23 Jan.) : In a characteristic article M. Alfred Baudrillart 
traces the rise and development of the intellectual re- 
awaking in France, which has resulted in replacing the 
deplorable mental torpor of the French clergy in the 
beginning of the last century, by the comparative anima- 
tion of to-day. The credit of the initiative in effecting 
this change is due, he considers, to De Lammenais and 
his disciples, to Pere Gratry and the Oratory. The 
success of the movement was imperilled, remarks M. 
Baudrillart by an intransigeant party, qui parlait tres haut 
et qui^ fort de la sympathie incontestable du tres respecte 
pontif€y Pie IX, ^ semblait souvent parler au nom de 
r£glise elle-meme. The establishment of the universities 
of Paris, Angers, Lille, Lyons, and Toulouse secured the 
gains already made and immensely extended the field of 
influence. 

In " Le Socialisme contemporain et le monde ouvrier " M, 
Jean Steens discusses the mutual action and reaction 
which Socialism and Labor Federations have had upon 
each other. M. G. Mollat brings forward some recently 
discovered bulls of Clement VII. touching the holy 
shroud of Turin, the authenticity of which has provoked 
so much debate. 

Revue dti Monde Catholique (15 Jan.): Mgr. F^vre, in a severe 
attack upon Dupanloup, devotes considerable space to 



1903.] Library Table. 847 

the reiterated statement that the Bishop of Orleans was 
not really another Arius, but — . In fact, on the whole, 
Dupanloup's career more resembled that of Eusebius, and 
this likeness is insisted upon by Mgr. F^vre. The writer 
goes on to say that he is not accusing but exculpating 
Dupanloup. Dupanloup's biographer, Lagrange, comes in 
for some attention because of his '' three volumes of odes 
in bad French, on the unheard-of splendors of his master." 
He further tells u& that the policy advocated by Dupan- 
loup, Montalembert, Broglie, and Darboy was a plan of 
entire destruction — implying that both church and state 
would be given over to anarchy. 

£iudes (5 Jan.) : P. Suau, writing on the failures of liberty, says 
that this ' modern idol has fallen prostrate from its 
pedestal. Only a return to an absolute truth and an 
absolute morality can restore to men the true liberty for 
which they are destined. 

(20 Jan.): P. de Grandmaison, in reviewing the Abb6 
Loisy's celebrated L*£vangile et Vj£glise says it is a 
work of the highest intellectual power, of great value 
against many rationalistic attacks, though it is also 
marked by dangerous and disquieting concessions to 
criticism. 

Annales de Philosopkie Chretienne (Dec.) : Gabriel Prevost 
undertakes to examine the causes underlying the 
present sad condition of religion in France. The church 
should be aroused to one great fact — namely, that the 
church is face to face with an apostolate of reconverting 
her perverted children. Not to realize this is a fatal error ; 
to be alive to it, is to give us hope that once again Catho- 
licity will flourish gloriously on the soil of Europe. 

La Democratie Chritienne (Jan.) : The Abbif Paul Six presents 
a history of the apostolic movement in America for the 
conversion of non- Catholics; he explains the object and 
methods of the Catholic Missionary Union and gives an 
account of the Winchester Convention, which resulted in 
the establishment of the new Apostolic Mission House 
zX Washington, D. C. The abb^ recommends that a 
similar movement be inaugurated in France. C. Calippe 
continues the very interesting letters of a priest who is 
engaged in the investigation of questions in practical 



848 Library Table. [Mar. 

sociology. Prof. Amando Castroviejo contributes a letter 
on the social and political developments in Spain since 
the congress of Santiago. 

Science Catholique (Jan.): Dr. Surbled discusses the nature of 
hysteria and disputes the statements made by Dr. Babinski 
in a recent lecture at the Salpetri^re published under the 
title Hypnotisme et Hysterie. 

Rassegna Nazionale (i Jan.): G. Prato gives twenty-five pages 
to an Italian translation of Italy To-day^ by Thonias Okey 
and Bolton King. E. S. Kingswan concludes, from a 
reading of the North American Review*s symposium of 
opinions about Mr. Roosevelt, that '' he is the right 
man in the right place.'' The same writer welcomes a 
second edition of Houtin's Question Biblique. 
(16 Jan.) E. S. Kingswan comments upon a recent 
article of La Revue of Paris concerning the great crisis 
of the Church of France ; and marvels that at the 
present day any one should define Americanism to be 
"a doctrine which vindicates and affirms .against the 
authority of pope and bishops, and all the teachers of 
the church, the rights of individual conscience, the inde- 
pendence and personal autonomy of the Christian." The 
writer notes that the word Americanism was first pro- 
nounced officis^lly in the Freiburg Congress (20 Aug., 
1897) by Mgr. D. J. O'Connell, who in noticing the 
famous life of Father Hecker said : " Americanism, justly 
regarded, is simply the loyal devotion of American 
Catholics to. the principles on which their government 
is built, and the conscientious conviction that these prin- 
ciples offer them a favorable opportunity to promote the 
glory of God, the progress of the church, and the sal- 
vation of souls." To this is added Archbishop Ireland's 
statement : ^' There is an Americanism in America to 
which we hold, and there is an Americanism preached in 
Paris which none of us know and which we repudiate as 
an insult to our country." With regard to Cardinal 
Gibbons' alleged terrible answer to the Letter on Amer- 
icanism, E. S. K. comments thus: "One must never 
have heard of this American prelate, so prudent, in order 
to attribute to him such ferocious conduct toward the Pope." 



^ ^ 

4 Comment on Current lopiiis. 4 

•i"  4" 

The clash between the Regents and the 

Preserve the ogjcg ^f the Superintendent of Public In- 
Regents. 

struction in the State of New York was in- 
evitable, and it has not come a bit too soon. With over^ 
lapping jurisdiction and with a distinctly different spirit con- 
trolling each department, the marvel is that they have been 
able to keep the peace so long. Now that they have crossed 
swords one or the other must go down. If we may measure 
the sentiment in the State, there is no second choice as to 
which the people will stand by. Mr. Skinner and his depart- 
ment has been an offence to a great body of the citizens. It 
is merely a political office controlling the schools for political 
effect, while the Regents have constituted a body of learned 
and dignified educationists who have administered the preroga- 
tives of their office with a broad wisdom and according to the 
lines of a liberal and farseeing policy. 

Mr. Skinner has been the assailant of nuns because they pre- 
ferred to wear a grave and modest dress becoming their calling. 
The Regents have encouraged every educational agency in the 
State, and have utilized the powers invested in them for the bene- 
fit of all the people. Mr. Skinner and his deputies are modern 
political upstarts with all the bumptiousness of the beggar who 
for the first time mounts a horse. The Regents have a century 
long prescription and with the wisdom and discretion of years. 
Governor Odell at the University Convocation last July 
used this language : " I hope to see a system inaugurated soon 
whereby such pupils as desire these (high, school) advantages, 
may receive them without entailing on their parents additional 
expense. This perhaps might be met by a law which would 
enable the Regents to reimburse those districts on which 
responsibility might be placed for this additional burden." 
Governor Roosevelt too trie^ to unify the educational forces 
of the State. There is but one way to do it. It is to 
merge the office of Superintendent of Public Instruction into 
the Board of Regents. The Republican party, now in the 
majority, has the power to do a thing which will please thou- 
sands of voters in this State. If they do so, they will lift the 
educational agencies of the State out of politics, and place them 
where they will serve all the people and not antagonize any. 



8 so Comment on Current Topics. [Mar., 

True patriotism consists not so mtich in 

Patriotism and the Fourth of July celebrations and flag-raistitgs 

Parish Sohool. j^ jjj ^^i^ enunciation of those principles for 

which the American ideals stand. The fun- 
damental principles of the American government are equal 
rights and equal opportunities for all, civil and religious liberty 
guaranteed by the Constitution, whereby there can be no inter- 
ference with the rights of conscience, nor any prohibition of 
the free exercise of religious practices, the sovereignty of the 
law guarded by the affections of the people — the reverence for 
constituted authority. A partisan or sectional policy which de- 
nies to any class the full rights of citizenship, and particularly 
that policy that excludes from public utilities a certain class of 
citizens because they cannot for conscience sake accept them, 
is grossly unpatriotic. Looked at from this point of view, the 
parish schools are far more patriotic and more in accord with 
American ideals than the public schools. 

It cannot be denied that the original American model of 
education is the religious school, for while the stability of the 
government depends on the intelligence of the citizen, his 
moral education cannot be disregarded. When virtue is com- 
bined with intelligence there is constituted a basis of citizen- 
ship which possesses stability and permanence. Our institutions 
will never last unless there is reverence for authority and obe- 
dience to law. There will be no enduring hope that America 
uili perform her mission — that of giving a higher happiness 
and a broader liberty to all classes — unless the religious basis of 
civic well-being is thoroughly established. There can be no 
honesty in commercial relations, nor will there be any sanctity 
in the oath administerecji in courts of law, nor will there be 
any sweetness in those higher relations of the domestic hearth, 
unless religion is the cement that holds, together the stones of our 
social fabric. If religion were entirely eradicated from the hearts 
of the people, social disruption and disaster would be near at hand. 

The institutions, therefore, th^t cultivate the great deep 
principles of religion do contribute more to the enduring nature 
of our American institutions than any other, and the school 
that teaches the child these same principles is the great saving 
factor in our American life. In point of view, therefore, of the 
highest, patriotism the parish schools are away beyond the 
school that teaches no religion and brings up the child withotrt 
a knowledge of his God or his duty to his fellow-man. 



1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 851 

If rapacious greed had its way men would 

T^e Attack on the house their fellow-men in dwellings that are 
Tenement House 

Laws. ^^^^ habitable than the original caves in 

which their ancestors dwelt, for the story of 
man's inhumanity to man is as old as creation. This statement 
is apropos of the desperate attempt that is now being made in 
the New York Legislature to break down the wholesome Tene- 
ment House Laws that were recently enacted as the result of the 
work of an expert commission. No less than seven bills have 
been introduced from one quarter or another, but all inspired 
by an effort, not to ameliorate the condition of the poor but to 
get more money out of building investments, regardless of the 
moral and physical welfare of the necessitous classes. Studies 
into the causes of tuberculosis in New York City have demon- 
strated with all the precision of an exact science that certain 
houses are just as sure to produce consumption as the pest- 
house is to cause small-pox. Consumption has attained the 
prominence of a plague in most large cities. The records show 
that thousands die every year from the fatal disease. 

There is little wonder that people are carried away by this 
dread disease when they are compelled to live in houses where 
the most unsanitary conditions exist and are forced to sleep in 
rooms where there is no access to light and pure air. The 
new Tenement House Law condemns the old air-shaft, which 
often was a hole of pestilence and only ventilated the apart- 
ments of one family into those of another, and in its stead put 
the open court, which is open from the bottom up, so that a 
free access to fresh air is always possible. The new law in- 
sisted, moreover, that every room shall open to the outside air, 
so that good ventilation may be secured. 

These two requirements seem to be downright necessities of 
life, and yet they interfered with tenement-house property as a 
gilt-edged investment. Hence the attempt to reverse the con- 
ditions of the law. The common people never got anything 
unless they fought desperately for it. It is, good, therefore, to 
mark the legislators who are anxious to revert to the old con- 
ditions, and to let them feel the heavy hand of popular power 
if they continue to do the behests of rapacious greed as against 
the people's welfare. 

The most noteworthy clause of the Papal 

"^^IJ^^^.?^ ^?^^ Letter to the church in the Philippines is the 
in the PnilippineB , 

requirement embodied in the following words : 



852 Comment on Current Topics. [Mar., 

" Concern'ing the secular clergy experience has amply proved 
that a native clerg^y is everywhere of the greatest utility, and 
bishops will, therefore, use every care to increase the nunaber 
of native priests in their dioceses, taking at the same time the 
greatest pains to assure themselves that they to whom ecclesi- 
astical offices are entrusted, are known to them and fit for 
those offices, and previously formed to piety and discipline." 
Those who have shown themselves by practice and experience 
to be superior men are to be gradually promoted to the more 
important offices. 

It is Rome's purpose, and it has always been the tradi- 
tional policy of Rome, to insist on the cultivation of a native 
clergy. Over and over again has the Propaganda insisted on 
the open-door policy for the native priests to even the highest 
responsibilities. There never has been any race which as a race 
have been debarred from the priesthood or even the hierarchy. 
If any people has been called to the Catholic Church it has 
also been called to the responsibilities and dignities of the 
clerical state. 

In the history of the Catholic missions this policy has not 
always been followed by some of the missionaries. An olig- 
archic form of spiritual government has been institute<f and the 
native has been kept in tutelage. In the history of the ill- 
fated Church of Japan the Propaganda was obliged to command 
certain bishops to admit such Japanese as were found fit to 
sacred orders. In the early missions in California the Indians 
were always treated as children. And in both these cases when 
the storm of persecution came, the fruit of years of labor and 
sacrifice was swept away so that scarcely a vestige remained. 

The reason probably was the Church never struck its roots 
deep into the soil. On May 10, 1775, Pius VII., in a letter 
to the Vicars-Apostolic of the Far East, urges the establish- 
ment of colleges where the natives may be trained : '' In this 
way will the increase and safeguard of the clergy be provided 
for, and if persecution assails a mission there will be no danger 
of the apostolic ministry suddenly ceasing, as unfortunately 
happened in the Japanese mission." Hereafter in the Philip- 
pines the native clergy must be given opportunity to advance 
themselves in learning and in sanctity, and consequently in 
places of dignity and responsibility in the church. 



I903-] The Columbian Reading Union. 853 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

SOME time ago in this department the new plans of the New York Public 
Library were discussed with the admonition that a broad policy should be 
adopted in securing and retaining the effective co-operation of parish libraries, 
which can do valuable service in promoting the circulation of the best books. 
At a recent meeting in the Hotel Majestic, New York City, Archbishop Farley 
delivered an address on the same topic, pointing out in emphatic words the 
danger of departing from the plan hitherto legally recognized, of allowing a 
small appropriation to local societies engaged in promoting good reading mat- 
ter for the people. The report of the Catholic Library Association shows a 
work of considerable magnitude from the date of its beginning, January, 1888, 
in the Cathedral School Hall. It contained then 500 volumes purchased and 
gathered from the libraries of church societies. At first it was opened three 
times a week; later, in 1892, five times weekly, and in 1896 it was found 
necessary to open for seventy-four hours in a week, which was twelve hours for 
six days in the week and two hours on Sundays. By complying with the con- 
ditions of the State Library Law, a charter was given from the University of 
the State of New York, October 15, 1896, and by the work during that year it 
became entitled to receive from the State a grant of $200 and from the city a 
grant of $500. Since then the appropriation has been increased in proportion 
to the amount of circulation, and last year from the city $17,000 was received 
of the moneys appropriated for the support of public libraries. This year, 
although the circulation was very much larger than last, the Board of Estimate 
and Apportionment saw fit to allow the appropriation to remain as it was last 
year, thereby preventing the carryingout of plans for development and crippling 
activity in many directions. Comptroller Grout in a public announcement in 
the newspapers, whether speaking with authority or not, announced that 
libraries such as this would in future receive no appropriation or subsidy from 
the city. A few statistics will show how great would be the work that would 
have to be suspended if this determination became the decision of the author- 
ized Board. 

This library has grown from 500 to 64,000 volumes, with five libraries that 
are open seventy- four hours weekly, one that is open thirty-six hours, and 
eleven smaller branches which are practically delivery stations, open a few 
hours each week. The circulation in 1888 was 8,393 volumes, and in ^892 it 
was 408,948 plus 35^969 issued in the smaller branches, or a total of 444,917. 
This enormous increase in circulation and capacity has been the result of the 
generous application of the provisions of the Library Law of this State by the 
action of the Board of Estimate and Apportionment since 1897, and it is easily 
seen that a curtailment or suppression of this appropriation would bring about 
a weakened condition, as it would not be fair to expect from private enterprise 
sufficient funds to make up the deficiencies thus caused. ' 

It seems that the gift of Mr. Carnegie has induced some of the managers 
of the New York Public Library to think that they can now cast aside some of 
the workers who have rendered splendid service in the past by the aid of phil- 
anthropic and religious societies. A letter written January 28, 1903, and pub- 
lished in the Evening Post, is here given as worthy of profound consideration : 



854 THE Columbian Reading Union [Mar., 

Mr. Carnegie, by his many gifts for libraries, seems to have established a 
reputation for great liberality, and is referred to as a philanthropist. Consid- 
eration of his methods shows that, on the contrary, he is doing a vast deal of 
harm, and legislation is urgently needed to put a stop to his practices. His 
methods on the surface seem so generous and so ingenuous that his victims 
readily succumb, and should be protected by law. 

His gifts for libraries are always made conditional upon the recipient run- 
ning into debt, and while the sums he gives ends the matter as far as he is con- 
cerned, the unfortunate victim of his wiles is obliged to tax himself or itself for 
all time thereafter. As an instance, take the city of New York, to whom he 

g^ives $5,000,000, but in accepting the city agrees to squeeze from the poor tax- 
payers the sum of $500,000 a year for ever; that is, they must raise by taxa- 
tion every year 10 per cent, of the amount he gives. In a few years the city 
has paid more than he gives, and is besides saddled with a debt of $500,000 a 
year for ever after. 

I do not see why the citizens should have such an additional burden cast 
upon them to keep up libraries for which Carnegie receives the credit. Our 
legislators should not possess the power to thus sacrifice the best interest of the 
city, and the same thing applies to all the other towns and villages which have 
been thoughtless enough to accept the offers of Mr. Carnegie. If he made 
these gifts through any genuine spirit of philanthropy, he would in each case 
give a sum for endowment, so the library would be self-supporting ; but as it 
is, he does incalculable harm in inducing and encouraging so many cities, 
towns, and villages to run into debt, and not a debt to be paid off at any time 
either, but a perpetual tax upon the people ; and a tax, I think, the people as 
a whcjje obtain the least benefit from ; and they that pay the taxes, that is 
property, scarcely any at all. A Taxpayer. 



• 



The Public Library at Utica, N. Y., has now for the first time admitted, as 
a gift of Mrs. Kernan, wife of the late United States Senator, a set of bound 
volumes of The Catholic World Magazine. Some of the missing num- 
bers were given by a non-Catholic to whom honor is due for sharing in a good 
work. It is now to be hoped that the Catholic patrons of the library will make 
use of these volumes frequently. Nearly all the important public questions 
affecting the welfare of the United States will be found ably treated by compe- 
tent writers in the back numbers of this magazine. Much of this information 
is not available elsewhere. Since the year 1865 to the present time The 
Catholic World Magazine has endeavored to voice the convictions of 
intelligent Catholics, and to advance the cause of enlightened patriotism. 

Right Reverend Monsignor Lynch, D.D., when notified by Mr. John E. 
Brandegee that a favorable decision had been rendered, sent the following letter 
in reply: 

You are quite right in assuming that I am glad to be informed that you 
have fiow a file of The Catholic World in the Public Library. 

I am quite sure that you agree with me, that a public library, like many 
other useful things in this world, is not an unmixed good. It is unfortunate 
that in the books provided at the public expense for the development of the 
mind there are — ^necessarily, perhaps — to use the words of St. Peter, speaking 
of Scripture itself, ''some things hard to be understood, which the unlearned 
and unstable wrest to their own perdition." 

On the other hand, much of the light reading provided for our young 
people to while away the passing hour, is more harmful than helpful in the 
cultivation of that purity of heart that makes so much for good citizenship. 

With all good citizens, then, I rejoice whenever I hear that those bur- 
dened with the responsibility in this important matter are taking pains to pro- 
vide, even if it be necessary to take advantage of private benefactions, some 
antidotes for the unwholesome and poisonous literature of our day, for which, 
unfortunately, our young folks seem to have such an abnormal craving. 



1903] 



The Columbian Reading Union. 855 



Hoping that The Catholic World may prove beneficial in this respect 
to a large class of readers, and thanking you again for the information so 
courteously given/ I remain, Yours very sincerely, J. S. M. Lynch. 

We hope that other friends of this Magazine will get the suggestion from 
the letter of Mgr. Lynch that it is a good investment for private funds to be 
employed in giving a subscription for a copy to be sent to the nearest public 
library, since public funds may not be used for any volume or periodical repre- 
senting distinctive reUgioirs teaehiBg^ The non- sectarians oblige the State 
officials to endorse the vagaries d^'Undenominationalis&i, which has been 
recently set forth in these strong words by the Rev. R. C. Moberly, D.D., of 
Oxford University: 

It cannot be too ofteri or too strongly insisted that there is no such thing 
as purely negative teaching. Every negative contains an affirmation, and 
every omission implies a positive precept. You cannot, by any possibility, for- 
bid the teaching of what is distinctive . . . without thereby necessarily 
teaching that insistence on these things may be amiable but must be untrue. 
. . . It is only by a serious revolt against the whole principle of their own 
•education that pupils will ever escape from its practical influence. 

The fact is, that undenominationalism, so far f(om being unsectarian in 
character, is itself an instance of the sectarian spirit in its most exclusive and 
aggressive form. It is really itself of the nature of an attempt at a new 
•denomination, more latitudinarian and rationalistic in basis, more illiberal and 
persecuting in method, than any that before exists. It sins so flagrantly 
against the first principles of liberalism as actually to attempt the suppression 
by force of the liberty of every denomination other than itself. ... It 
does direct injustice, whether more or less, to every one who has serious con- 
victions upon theological subjects. — From famphUt on Undenominationalism ^ 
published igo2 by John Murray^ Albemarle Street^ London, M. C. M. 



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Government Printing Office, Washington: 

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Vol. :X VII I. Pp. 1127. 



.PUBLISHER'S PAGE. 



THIS PAGS IS FOR MUTUAL BENEFIT of Reader, Advertiser, and 
Publisher, i. To Reader by calling attention to meritorious articles adver- 
tised. 2. To Advertiser by, FREE OF CHAROE, directing the reader's atten- 
tion. 3. To Publisher by reason of service rendered reader and advertiser. 

PEOPLE who wear alternately one pair of eyeglasses for long distance 

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THE SMITH PREMIER TYPEWRITER COMPAHY has begun the new 
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