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OCTOBER, 1897, TO MARCH, 1898. 



120 WEST 6oth STREET. 




Allen, Right Rev. Edward P., D.D., 

Bishop of Mobile, (Frontispiece.} 

America as seen from Abroad. Most 
Rev. John J. Keane, Archbishop of 
Damascus, . . . . .721 

American Artists in Paris. (Illus- 
trated.^) E. L. Good, . , . 453 

Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Reli- 
gion. Rev. George McDermot, 
C.S.P., 20 

Ancient Rome, The Ruins and Excava- 
tions of. Rev. George McDermot, 
C.S.P., 465 

Anglican Orders, Since the Condemna- 
tion of. Rev. Luke Rivington, 
D.D., 367 

Aubrey de Vere, The Recollections of. 

(Portrait.) I. A. Taylor, . . 621 

Be ye Cultured. Anthony Yorke, . . 188 

Bible Student came to be a Catholic, 

How a. Rev. R. Richardson, . 82 

Bonhomme, Pledges made at. Sallie 

Margaret O'Malley, .... 548 

Books Triumphant and Books Militant. 

Carina B. C. Eaglesfield, . . 340 

Bosnian Moslem at Prayer, A, 

(Frontispiece. } 

Catholic Authors, Authentic Sketches 

of Living, 135, 281, 421, 571 

Catholic Exiles in Siberia, The Hard- 
ships of. (Illustrated.} A. M. 
Clarke, 528 

Catholic Men of Science, Living, 714, 856 

Catholicity in the West. Lelia Hardin 

Bugg, 302 

Catholic Life in Washington. (Illus- 
trated.} Mary T. Waggaman, 

Child-Study Congress, The. 

Christmas Eves, Three. (Illustrated.} 
Agnes St. Clair, .... 

Christmas Day in Dungar. Dorothy 
Gresham, ...... 

Christmas Eve, (Frontispiece.} 

Christmas at St. Dunstan's. (Illus- 
trated.} Marion Ames Taggart, . 

Church and Social Work, The. (Illus- 

Church in Britain before the Coming of 
St. Augustine, The. (Illustrated.} 
T. Arthur Floyd, .... 

Citizenship, Practical. Robert J. Ma- 

hon, 434, 680 

Colored People in Baltimore, Md., 
Twenty Years' Growth of the. 
Very Rev. John R. Slattery, . . 519 

Columbian Reading Union, The, 141, 284, 

427, 575, 7i9, 860 

Customs, Races, and Religions in the 
Balkans. (Illustrated.} E. M. 

"Democracy and Liberty" Reviewed. 
Hilaire Belloc, .... 

Deshon, Very Rev. George, Superior- 
General of the Paulists, (Frontispiece.) 

Disease in Modern Fiction. -J.J. Mor- 

rissey A.M., M.D., . . 240 

Editorial Notes, 134, 279, 420, 570, 713, 855 

Eliza Allen Starr, Poet, Artist, and 
Teacher of Christian Art. (Por- 
trait.} Walter S. Clarke, . . 254 

Evolution, The Hypothesis of. (Por- 
traits.} William Set on, LL.D., . 198 







Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year, 205 

Father Salvator's Christmas. Marga- 
ret Kenna, 364 

Fiction against the Church, The Wea- 
pon of. Walter Lecky, . . . 755 

Flying Squad, The. A Priest, . .119 

French Expedition to Ireland in 1798, 
The. Rev. George McDermot, 
C.S.P., 94 

Fribourg Congress, The. Rev. Edward 

A. Pace, D.D., Ph.D., . . .261 

Friendship, A Fatal. Grace Christmas, 156 

Henryk Sienkiewicz, .... 652 

"I come," the New Year saith, "un- 

bid by Man," (Frontispiece.} 

Indian Government and Silver, The, . 510 

Infidelity, The " Cui Bono?" of. A. 

Oakey Hall, 505 

Irish Cathedral, The True History of 

an. (Illustrated}, . . . .636 

Judgment Lilies, The. (Illustrated.} 

Margaret Kenna, . . . . 195 

Lettice Lancaster's Son. Charles A. L. 

Morse, ...... 662 

Lying, The Art of. Lelia H. Bugg, 109 

Master William Silence," "The Diary 
of. Rev. George McDermot, 
C.S.P., 810 

Napoleon, Unpublished Letters of. 

Rev. George McDermot, C.S.P., . 380 

New-Englander, How shall we win the ? 

Rev. Arthur M. Clark, C.S.P., . 231 

Noted Persons, Happy Marriages of. 

Frances Albert Doughty, . . . 587 

Old Portsmouth, A Romance of. 

Charles A. L. Morse, . . . i 

Padre Filippo's Madonna. Margaret 

Kenna, . 748 

Parisian Socialism, A Phase of. (Illus- 
trated.} A. I. Butter-worth, . . 64 

"Patrick's Day in the Morning " Doro- 
thy Gresham, ... . . . 766 

Primacy of Jurisdiction, Dr. Benson 
on the. Rev. George McDermot, 
C.S.P., 146 

Remanded. Rev. P. A. Sheehan, . . 437 

Roman Sculptor and his Work : Cesare 
Aureli, A. (Illustrated.} Marie 
Donegan Walsh, .... 731 

Savonarola Monk, Patriot, Martyr. 

(Portrait.} F. M. Edselas, . . 487 

Scourging and the Crowning with 
Thorns in Art, The. (Illustrated.} 
Eliza Allen Starr, . . . 79 5 

" Seeing the Editor." Rev. Francis B. 

Doherty, 249 

Shakespeare, Early Critics of. Wil- 
liam Henry S her an, ... 74 

Socialism, Altruism, and the Labor 
Question. Rev. George McDermot, 
C.S.P., 608 

Spiritual Development vs. Materialism 
and Socialism. Rev. Morgan M. 
Sheedy, 577 

Station Mass, The. Dorothy Gresham, 615' 

Sunday-School, Work of the Laity in a. 

Montgomery Forbes, . . . 355 

Superior-General of the Paulists. The 

New, ...... 139 

Talk about New Books, 122, 267, 406, 556, 

699, 839 

Teachers' Institutes, National Catholic. 

(Illustrated}, 389 



Temperance Question, A Study of 
the American Rev. A. P. Doyle, 
C.S.P., 786 

" The Old Mountain." (Illustrated.} 

John Jerome Rooney, . . .212 

Theosophy : Its Leaders and its Lead- 
ings. (Illustrated.} A. A. McGin- 
ley, 34 

Truth, A Lay Sermon on. A Lawyer, 29 
Un Pretre Manque. Rev. P. A. Shee- 

han, ....... 52 

Ursulines, Leaves from the Annals of 

the. (Illustrated.) Lydta Sterling 

Flint ham, ..... 319 

Visitandine of the Nineteenth Century, 

A. (Portrait}, . . . .773 


Art. (Illustrated.} Mary T. Wagga- 

man, 634 

Autumn, The Miracle of. (Illustrated.} 

Charles Hanson Towne, . . 33 
Ave, Leo Pontifex ! (Portrait.) 

Teresa, 619 

Century Plant in Bloom, To a. Rev 

William P. Canlwell, . . 607 

Christ in the Temple. (Illustrated.} 

John Joseph Ma lion, . . 464 

Epiphany. Jessie Willis Brodhead, 509 

Gethsemani. Bert Martel, . . 782 

Immaculate Conception, The. (Illus 

trated.}Rev. William P. Cantwell 378 
Ireland, Pictures of. Joseph I. C 


Judgment. James Buckham, 
Memento, Homo, guia Pulvis es, 


New Year Prayer, A. (Illustrated.} 

F. W. Grey, 518 

New Year's Day. Eleanor C. Donnelly, 474 
Ordination, An. Mary Isabel Cramsie, 104 
Passion-Tree, The. (Illustrated), . 783 
Pure Soul, A. Harrison Conrard, . 747 

Purple Aster, 108 

Quid Sunt Plagae istae in medio 
Manuum Tuarum ? (Illustrated.) 

F. W. Grey 808 

Robert Emmet. (Portrait.} fohn Je- 
rome Rooney, 92 

Royal Messenger, The. Charles Han- 
son Towne, 433 

Virgin's Robe, The. Claude M. Girar- 

deau, 405 

Vis Amoris. (Illustrated.} Bert Mar- 
tel, 301 


Abbe Demore's Treatise on True Polite- 
ness, 418 

Angels of the Battle-field, . . . 705 
Anglican Orders, Ten Years in, . . 129 
Barbara Blomberg, .... 271 
Benedictine Martyr in England, A : be- 
ing the Life and Times of the Venera- 
ble Servant of God, Dom John Rob- 
erts, O.S.B., 708 

Beth Book, The, 560 

Blessed Virgin, Illustrated Life of the, 710 
Book of Books, The ; or, Divine Reve- 
lation from Three Stand-points, . 419 
Brother Azarias : The Life Story of an 

American Monk, 126 

Buddhism and its Christian Critics, . 702 
Canonical Procedure in Disciplinary 

and Criminal Cases of Clerics, . . 712 
Carmel : Its History and Spirit, . . 568 
Catholic Church, A Short History of 

the, 710 

Chatelaine of the Roses, The, . . 844 

Christian, The, 122 

Christian Mission to the Great Mogul, 

The First, 556 

Church History, Studies in, . . . 699 
Convent School, A Famous, . . . 273 
Conversions, and God's Ways and 

Means in Them, ..... 565 
Commandments Explained according 
to the Teaching and Doctrine of the 
Catholic Church, The, . . . 275 
Commentarium in Facultates Apostoli- 
cas concinnatum ab Antonio Konings, 

C.SS.R., 133 

Cbrleone, ...... 562 

Crimea, Memoirs of the, . . . 272 
Eucharistic Christ, The, . . . 274 
Fugitives and other Poems, The, . .411 
History of England, .... 412 

Iliad, Some Scenes from the, . . 841 

India : Sketch of the Madura Mission, . 851 

Ireland, Beauties and Antiquities of, . 267 

Isaiah : a Study of Chapters I.-XIL, . 565 

Jesus Christ, The Story of, . . . 564 
Jewish History from Abraham to Our 

Lord, Outlines of, .... 567 
Mary Aikenhead, Foundress of the Irish 

Sisters of Charity, The Story of, . 276 

Memoir of General Thomas Kilby Smith, 853 

Monks of St. Benedict, English Black, 406 

Moral Principles and Medical Practice, 410 

Mosaics, 711 

Notes on the Baptistery, . . . 851 
Novelists, A Round Table of the Repre- 
sentative Irish and English Catholic, 416 
Obligation of Hearing Mass on Sundays 

and Holydays, The, .... 276 

Our Country's History, First Lessons in, 273 

Our Lady of America, .... 845 

Our Own Will, 852 

Passion Flowers, ..... 850 

Patrins, 268 

Pessimist in Spain, With a, ... 852 

Pink Fairy Book, 415 

Princess of the Moon, The, . . . 707 
Sermons for the Holydays and Feasts of 
Our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, and the 

Saints, 278 

St. Anthony, 854 

St. Augustine of Canterbury and his 

Companions, 416 

St. Ives, .706 

Thomas Ruffin, 268 

Thoughts and Theories of Life and 

Education, 839 

Varia, . . . . . . . 413 

Wayfaring Men, 847 

Woman of Moods, A, . . . . 270 

Woman, The Power of, ... 414 

Elected Superior-General of the Paulists, September 9, 1897. 




OCTOBER, 1897. 

No. 391. 



OUNG Lattice Jaffrey was descend- 
ing the broad staircase of her 
father's mansion in Pleasant 
Street, in the city of Portsmouth, 
of his Britannic Majesty's New 
England Colonies, one February 
afternoon, in the year 1717, when 
the sudden clang of a bell, buffeted 
by the wind into strange muffled 
bursts of sound, struck on her 
ears. She paused upon the upper 
landing of the stairs and listened, a finger pressed against her 
red lips, her blue eyes widened in anxious questioning. The 
alarm-bell might bear tidings of calamity on land or sea, and 
the young girl listened with hushed breath to count the strokes. 
But the wild wind so played with the bell's notes, now deaden- 
ing them into silence, and again throwing them out crashingly 
over the roofs of the towns in one long, jangling scream, that 
the listening girl could make naught of their message. The 
great wood-panelled hall was peculiarly sombre, in the pale 
wintry light that filtered reluctantly through the small diamond- 
shaped panes of greenish-hued glass filling the narrow windows 
on each side of the oak entrance door, and Lettice tripped 
swiftly down the stairs and across the polished, gleaming floor 
with a little shudder. Pausing before a closed door midway of 
the hall, she rapped gently. No response greeted her summons. 

Copyright. VERY REV. A. F. HEWIT. 1897. 


She pressed the heavy brass latch and opened the door. The 
room she entered was a long, high-ceiled apartment with broad, 
low windows opening towards the south. The walls were 
wainscoted with oak, and a huge mantel-shelf of wood stretched 
its carved and fretted length above the fire-place. Two sides 
of the room were lined with glazed book-cases full of thick 
volumes bound in calf-skin, while from another wall looked 
down the painted portraits of three generations of the house of 
Jaffrey. Rigid gentlemen in wigs and ruffles were those dead- 
and-gone Jaffreys, their painted effigies posing pompously before 
a dull red curtain, or seated beside an open window through 
which one glimpsed a view of Portsmouth harbor and ships at 
anchor reminders of the India trade in which the Jaffrey 
wealth had been accumulated. Before the blazing logs in the 
fire-place, an open book upon his knees, a decanter of good old 
port by his side, dozed George Jaffrey the third, a thick-set, full- 
lipped old gentleman, with a tendency towards excessive cor- 
pulence, and the purplish red marks of a too great indulgence 
in the pleasures of the table upon his face. His stout legs 
were encased in black silk stockings and fine cloth knee-breeches. 
His shoe-buckles were of silver, richly chased, and the ruffles 
adorning his shirt-front and wrist-bands were of starched lace. 
On his left hand was a ponderous signet-ring of beryl, en- 
graved with the Jaffrey crest. 

Lettice closed the door and stole across the quiet, fire-lit 
room to her father's side. She looked down at him a moment 
and then laid a slim white hand upon his shoulder. Her touch 
aroused him and he opened his eyes sleepily, saying : 

" Hey ? what ? Oh ! it is you, child. I must have lost myself 
for a moment over my book. Hum ! " 

He shook himself together and took a swallow of the wine. 
It was one of Mr. Jaffrey's notions that he never fell asleep 
over his book of an afternoon he might possibly "lose him- 
self " for an instant, but that was quite a distinct thing from 
falling asleep. Lettice was entirely too familiar with the quick 
Jaffrey temper to express her doubts as to the difference 
between sleeping and " losing " one's self. So she only smiled a 
little behind his back as she answered : 

11 Yes. The fire makes one a bit drowsy " 

" Not drowsy, child ! " interrupted her father. " I was lost in 
in thought over my book." 

"Ah! and that was it," replied the girl, with a saucy 
puckering of her lips. " I am sorry, sir, that I broke in so rude- 


ly upon your thoughts. But the town-bell tolls right loudly 
and I fear some evil menaces the place." 

" So, so ! " exclaimed the man, leaning forward in his chair 
and listening. " I hear nothing, Letty your ears deceive you." 

" No, father. The wind plays such mad pranks with the 
bell that one can hear its sound but sadly in the hall and in 
this room not at all." 

" Is't of evil on land or water?" 

"That -I cannot tell, sir the wind's so fierce." 

" Well, well. Whate'er it be, we need not fret. If 'twas 
fire threatening my warehouse in the town, word of it would 
be brought quickly enough to me ; and if 'tis a ship in distress 
off Kittery Point, 'tis none of mine." With which comforting 
reflection Mr. Jaffrey settled himself again in his chair and took 
another sip of wine. 

" But, father," persisted Lettice, " others may be in dire 
distress even if your property is safe." 

"Then let the lusty young men of Portsmouth to the rescue. 
I'd do no good amongst them." 

" But, sir, you have lusty men in your service ; and in truth 
'twill look ill if our townsmen are in trouble on land or sea, and 
the house of Jaffrey does naught to aid them." 

"God bless my soul! but you've a glib tongue in your 
head, child. Mayhap you're in the. right, though. At any rate, 
'twill not harm the lazy vagabonds who drowse in my kitchen 
to bestir themselves a bit. Though, in truth, I think 'tis your 
womanish curiosity prompts your pleading more than your love 
for your fellows or your concern for the good repute of the 
Jaffreys," cried her father, wagging his head knowingly. " How- 
ever, have your will, child, and bid some of the men go learn 
the cause for the alarm." 

With a smile and a courtesy Lettice sped to give her orders, 
and soon thereafter two grumbling, well-wrapped-up serving- 
men were shuffling through the snow to the town-house. 

The short winter afternoon dragged irritatingly for Lettice. 
She strummed now and again upon her harpsichord (the only 
one of those quavering instruments in Portsmouth save that 
belonging to Lieutenant-governor Wentworth's daughter), and 
worked fitfully at her tambour-frame, and wandered repeated- 
ly to the windows to look out upon the white, silent street. 
The alarm-bell ceased to toll shortly after the men's departure, 
but the twilight settled down upon the town and had deepened 
into darkness ere they returned. George Jaffrey and his 


daughter were at supper, with the heavy Jaffrey plate making 
a brave show in the mellow candle-light, when the men came 
back. Mr. Jaffrey had been fretting at their delay, as one of 
them was accustomed to wait upon his master at table, and his 
absence nettled the old man, as in fact did any change in the 
solemnly correct routine of his daily life. A great stickler for 
routine was George Jaffrey, as too had been his father and 
grandfather before him, the latter of whom was the first George 
of the name and one of the original settlers of old " Strawberry 
Bank." Orderliness had been worshipped by this worthy man 
and his descendants as a sort of god a fact which had had no 
little to do with the steady growth of the Jaffrey fortune and 
the Jaffrey name in the snug little, aristocratic, royalistic 
colony. In the midst of her father's complainings, Lettice's 
qukk ears caught the crunch of feet upon the snow outside, 
and then the house resounded with the thumping of the huge 
iron knocker upon the outer door. Slipping from her chair, 
the girl ran to the dining-room door and opened it. The sound 
of men's voices in eager expostulation reached her, and then 
she heard old Deborah, who had opened the hall door, say: 

" But I tell ye, ye can't come in. Whatever would the 
master say? The impudence of you, to be sure! Get your big 
foot away and let me shut the door," 

Then a voice which Lettice recognized as that of good Dr. 
Aldrich, the town's famous physician, answered : " Stand aside, 
wench, and cease your talk. I'll answer for the consequences 
with your master. Where is he, then ? " 

" Quick, father !" cried Lettice, hurrying into the hall, where 
she spied Dr. Aldrich in his cloak trying to force his way past 
the stout Deborah, who guarded the open door with a deter- 
mined clutch on both jambs, while behind the doctor huddled 
a group of men supporting among them a muffled, tottering 

" For the love of heaven," called Dr. Aldrich's deep bass, 
as he caught sight of the girl's startled face " for the love of 
heaven, Lettice, call this grim vixen away and let us come in 
out of the cold. In truth, we've got a precious burden here 
that needs warmth right sorely. Where's your father, lass ? " 

"Here," replied George Jaffrey, bustling out of the dining- 
room, napkin in hand. " By the gods, doctor, a pretty row 
you're raising at my door! Don't you know, man, this is a 
gentleman's supper hour? Get your great back out of the door, 
Deborah, and let me see what 'tis they have." 


Thus admonished, the stubborn Deborah drew to one side 
and the doctor came stamping in. 

" A poor fellow half-frozen by wind and brine, Master Jaf- 
frey that's what we have." 

" Stop ! stop!" shouted the master of the house. " This is 
no inn. Take your patient to the Sign of the Earl of Halifax, 
doctor. This is no vagrant's lodging-house, I tell you." 

Master Jaffrey's word was law with a great number of the good 
people of Portsmouth, and the men halted upon the threshold. 

" Hoity-toity !" quoth Dr. Aldrich. " The Earl's Inn is 
full; and even if 'twere not I'd not risk this poor fellow's life 
carrying him so far. He's near to death as 'tis, and unless you've 
enough of the milk of human kindness in your old veins to 
succor him he may die in your door-yard. A pretty thing that 
would be, to be sure ! " 

" Stuff and nonsense ! " retorted Jaffrey, growing purple. 
" I'm not to be frightened by your old wives' tales, Aldrich. 
Take him away take him to your own house if the inn's full. 
I'll have none of him here." 

Lettice, who had been a wide-eyed spectator of this scene, 
stole to her father's side and clasped his arm with one hand while 
with the other she pointed to the wan, white face of the stranger. 

" Look, father," she whispered, " surely that pale face gives 
truth to the doctor's words. And, too, if I know aught of such 
things, 'tis the face of a gentleman and no vagabond." 

The old man glanced contemptuously at the muffled figure 
in the doorway, and shook the girl's hand from his arm. 

" Gentleman or no gentleman, he doesn't cross my threshold ! " 
he cried. 

But just then, the men in their confusion having separated 
a little and loosened their hold upon him, the stranger swayed 
suddenly and then lurched forward, falling prone upon the hall 
floor and quite across the threshold. With a pitying cry Let- 
tice sprang forward and knelt beside the fallen man, while even 
her father was frightened into acquiescence, as the men lifted the 
stranger from the floor to the hall settle and Deborah, at Dr. 
Aldrich's command, hastened to light a fire and warm the 
sheets in one of the bed-rooms of the house. 

Two hours later the doctor descended from the second floor 
and entered the library, where Lettice and her father sat wait- 
ing for him. After sipping, with many an approving sigh of 
contentment, the steaming rum-punch which the girl had brewed, 
he proceeded to relate to George Jaffrey the incidents of the 


afternoon. It was the not uncommon story of a ship wrecked 
off the Isles of Shoals, and of the heroic efforts of the fisher- 
men, aided by such of the Portsmouth men as could reach the 
Isles in the heavy sea that was running, to rescue the ship's 
men. So far as known they had rescued all of them, and they 
were being housed by the fishermen at Newcastle a little set- 
tlement opposite Kittery Point, at the mouth of the Piscataqua 
all, that is, save the young man who now lay in George 
Jaffrey's house. He being, according to Dr. Aldrich's notion, 
in a more exhausted condition than the others and, more- 
over, of evidently gentle blood and more delicate nature than 
they, the doctor had feared to leave him to the rough hospi- 
tality of the fishermen's cottages and had started to carry him 
to his the doctor's home in Portsmouth. But the stranger 
had grown weaker so rapidly that he dared not take him so 
far as his own home, and had stopped at the Jaffrey mansion, 
which was nearer the scene of the accident. " Knowing," con- 
cluded the doctor, with a sly twinkle in his deep-set eyes, " that 
George Jaffrey's door was quick to open to the sick and suffer- 
ing, and emboldened to seek an entrance by the fact that two 
of the Jaffrey serving-men had arrived at the beach with the 
information that their master had sent them forth to offer that 
aid which the house of Jaffrey had ever been glad to extend 
to those in need." 

At mention of the serving-men Mr. Jaffrey looked accusing- 
ly at his daughter, as if to say, " This is your doing ! " and 
Lettice had smiled back the answer that she was not conscious- 
stricken if it was. Then, with directions for the care of the 
sick man and prophesying that he would be all right in a day 
or two, Dr. Aldrich stamped away into the night. 

The doctor's prophecy, however, proved false, and for two 
months the stranger lay ill of a fever in George Jaffrey's house. 
Mr. Jaffrey, in spite of his selfishness and choler, was by birth 
and breeding a gentleman, and once his unwelcome guest was 
actually lodged under his roof, he was treated with kindest con- 
siderationa bit grumblingly for a time, but later with pom- 
pous good will. This change in the host's temper was caused 
by the discovery that Dr. Aldrich and Lettice had done wisely 
in judging the stranger to be of gentle blood, a fact proved 
easily enough by sundry papers which, with a considerable 
amount of money and a fat little leather-covered book, had 
been enclosed in a stout wallet fastened to his belt. His 
name was Gerrard Lancaster, of the good old Lancashire family 


of that name long settled in Maryland. He had been the only 
passenger on the ship Albatross, sailing from Boston to England, 
and, driven out of its course, wrecked off Kittery Point. What 
the nature of his mission might be in England, and why he 
was travelling thither from Maryland by way of Boston, the 
young man refrained from stating, until one day when he was 
growing stronger and his host, in the course of conversation, 
had recited with much solemn verbosity his own political creed. 
Upon which Lancaster confessed that he had been involved, 
on the loth of June preceding, in a demonstration at Annapo- 
lis by some hot-headed youths in favor of the exiled House of 
Stuart. It was the birthday of " James the Third " (as he called 
the Pretender), and he and his companions had gained posses- 
sion of the cannon of Annapolis and fired a salute in their 
" rightful king's honor." Whereupon they were promptly ar- 
rested by the Maryland authorities and thrown into prison. 
Among his companions was a nephew of Charles Carroll, Lord 
Baltimore's agent, and thanks to that gentleman's authority in 
the colony they were released from confinement after a few 
months, but he, as a supposed leader in the movement, was 
advised to withdraw from Maryland for a time. So he had 
shipped from St. Mary's with the friendly captain of a coasting 
bark, and in due season had landed in Boston, whence he had 
attempted to proceed to England, with the dire consequences 
which his present kind host so well knew. All of which raised 
the young man mightily in George Jaffrey's estimation, that 
gentleman being a stout Jacobite and not at all, as he was 
fond of saying, " one of your psalm-whining Puritan hypocrites 
and regicides ; no, by the gods, sir ! the Jaflreys had always 
been sound Church-of-England men and loyal subjects of the 
legitimate King of England, and "with a round oath " so 
was George Jaffrey the third." 

All of this conversation was duly reported to Lettice. A 
vehement little aristocrat was Miss Lettice, with extravagant 
ideas of loyalty and a gentle pity for persons who were obliged 
to struggle through life without the blessing of " family " and 
with the burden of vulgar Nonconformist religious views. De- 
lighted that her instinctive opinion that Lancaster was a gen- 
tleman should have proved a correct judgment and regarding 
him as a martyr to the " sacred " cause of the Stuarts, the girl 
awaited with impatience his recovery ; paying, meantime, deli- 
cate attention to his presence under her father's roof by daily 
inquiries at his bed-room door of the now devoted Deborah 


concerning her patient's health, and leaving with that grimly 
faithful attendant sundry dainty dishes concocted by her own 
deft hands, together with such stray volumes of poetry and old- 
fashioned romance from her father's library as she fancied might 
interest a sick and loyal subject of " King " James the Third. 

At last, one fair April day, Dr. Aldrich pronounced his 
patient able to descend to the lower floor and enjoy the society 
of Mr. Jaffrey and his daughter for a few hours. Great, indeed, 
was the polishing of mirror-like floors, the scouring of already 
shining brass, and the keen-eyed hunting of imaginary dust-specks 
that went on that morning under Lettice's imperious supervision. 
It was afternoon when Lancaster descended the stairs, sup- 
ported carefully by the watchful Deborah, and was settled in 
a great hooded chair in Mr. Jaffrey's library, smiling gratefully 
at that gentleman's prodigious bustle of a welcome. The young 
man noted with keen disappointment the absence of his host's 
daughter, whose soft voice he had listened for right longingly 
at his chamber door each morning of the past month. He was 
asking anxiously for her when the door opened and she stood 
before him. 

A pretty picture was Lettice, in the doorway with the dark 
hall looming at her back a dainty figure in crimson padesoy, 
the long, pointed bodice quite too snug and stiff, I fear, for 
comfort, but giving its wearer a strangely trim and jaunty air, 
while the full, wide-distended petticoat was short enough to 
display two little feet encased in French shoes with preposter- 
ously high heels and glittering paste buckles. Her fair hair, 
piled high over a cushion, with a rebellious curl or two on either 
temple, was partly covered by a large hood, like a Capuchin 
monk's in shape, of blue cloth lined with crimson, from 
the loose folds of which her young face looked out brightly, 
with welcoming eyes and a tint of rose in her cheeks caused 
by the fresh spring air of the out-door world from which she 
was just come. In her hands she carried a bunch of trailing 
arbutus, and to Lancaster its tender fragrance seemed to drift 
about her like incense. In an instant the young man was upon 
his feet, bowing low, while Lettice courtesied to the ground as 
her father pronounced her, name. 

As the girl removed her hood and placed the flowers in 
water she studied the invalid out of the corner of her eye, and 
gave a little sigh of contentment when she decided he was all 
such a hero should be in appearance a dark, well-made 
young fellow, with thick black hair rolled back over his fine 


head, and tied with a ribbon above his collar. He was clad 
in a suit of dark blue cloth, fashioned for him by a Portsmouth 
tailor an up-to-date tailor who produced the latest fashions for 
the Portsmouth gentry only six months after their first ap- 
pearance in London. The waistcoat of figured velvet reached 
nearly to his knees, while the square-cut skirts of his coat dis- 
played a reckless waste of material. His lace ruffles were full 
and deep, and his buckles big and bright. Two points in par- 
ticular Lettice noted ; that his eyes, which in her hurried view 
the night of his arrival she had taken to be black, were in 
fact dark blue and as clear as a child's, and that his brown 
hands were the hands of a gentleman, strong and supple. 

Afterwards, each afternoon found Lancaster snugly ensconced 
by the library hearthstone with Lettice and her father, and 
the latter gradually relapsed into his old habit and fell placid- 
ly asleep in his chair, lulled, perhaps, to deeper slumber by the 
soft murmur of the young people's voices. They talked of 
many things, and often the young man spoke of his Southern 
home on the west shore of the beautiful Chesapeake Bay, and 
of the neighboring planters and the gay doings of the gentry 
thereabout; and of his sister Hilda, who was being educated in 
the " old country," and whom he expected to bring home with 
him when he should return to Maryland from England ; and 
of his dear old father, Humphrey Lancaster, and of his mother 
of whom he spoke with hushed voice, for she had died five 
years before. And Lettice, bending low over her tambour- 
frame, listened eloquently. Once she spoke of his imprison- 
ment, and, turning her bright eyes to his, expressed her 
admiration for his devotion to the " holy " cause of the Stuarts. 
Lancaster laughed a little at her notion that he was a hero, 
and had confessed quite frankly that he feared the firing of 
the salute had been but the silly prank of hot-headed young 
men a bit inflamed with wine, an act that could have done no 
good to the Stuarts and which had brought needless trouble 
and sorrow to his dear old father. And George Jaffrey, awaken- 
ing just then, had loudly affirmed his belief that it was a noble 
thing always and under all circumstances to protest against the 
miserable German usurper whom a set of rascally Whigs had 
thrust upon the English throne ; and as for him, he only 
wished he was young enough to offer his sword and life to 
his majesty, King James the Third even though they did say 
that gentleman was a Papist, a sad thing to say of an English 
king. Upon which Lancaster glanced quickly at Lettice and 
her father, and then took to studying the fire with troubled 


eyes. Finally, one day in May, Lancaster was strong enough 
to venture out of doors, and, with Lettice by his side, wan- 
dered away from the old gambrel-roofed house towards the 
sea. They stood at length upon a little hillock and looked 
eastward. Sky and water were serenely blue under the pale 
Northern sun ; far away towards the east the blanched rocks 
of the Isles of Shoals gleamed pearly white, and beyond 
was the faint, ghostlike hint of a ship's sails outward bound. 
They watched it with their hands shading their eyes until it 
dropped from sight beneath the sea's rim. Then the young 
man said : 

" It reminds me that I too must soon be going. I have 
already taxed too sorely your father's hospitality. I have been 
very happy in your home, and I wish that I could thank you 
both as I desire." 

"We too have been happy," replied the girl. "We wish 
no thanks. I I shall be sorry when you go." Her voice 
trembled a little, and Lancaster stooped and looked into her 
face. Their eyes met for a moment, and the old story had 
been told once more. 

That night the girl slipped away and left Lancaster and 
her father alone together. The young man told of his love 
for Lettice, and asked her hand in marriage. George Jaffrey 
was strenuous in declarations of astonishment and in objec- 
tions, but in his talk there was, to the suitor's eager ears, an 
undertone of something other than displeasure. 

"Of course, sir," he replied to the old gentleman's remon- 
strances, "my family is unknown to you, but there are many 
of the first quality, of both birth and station, in my own colony 
to vouch for me. And the Lancasters are no paupers, sir. 
Your child's comfort will be assured in that way. We have 
lands in plenty although," he added with a sudden shadow in 
his frank eyes, " we have been burdened these thirty years 
with double taxes and divers unjust penalties." 

"And why, pray?" demanded Jaffrey in amazement. "Law- 
abiding folk are not used to such treatment." 

" Not if the laws be just men's laws, sir," said Lancaster. 
" But in my unhappy home, alas ! there's but little justice for 
those of my faith." 

"Your faith?" quoth the old man. "Surely, young man, 
you are no dissenter you, a gentleman born, and a loyal ad- 
herent of King James the Third ? " 

"No, sir; I am no dissenter. My religion is the old reli- 
gion of Englishmen the religion of our rightful king." 


"A Papist?" cried George Jaffrey, starting to his feet. 

" A Catholic," replied Lancaster with set lips. 

"And you dare ask my daughter's hand? You, a wander- 
ing vagabond of a Papist, marry a Jaffrey?" shouted the now 
enraged old man. " Out upon you! Marry her? No! I'd see 
her in perdition first." 

" I am no wandering vagabond, as you well know," replied 
the young man, striving to speak calmly ; " as for my religion 
the Lancasters have been Catholics always, and with God's 
help I'll not be the first apostate of the race. But I promise 
you upon the honor of a gentleman that Lettice shall never 
suffer from me or mine for religion's sake." 

" That she shall not ; for by heaven she never will be 
yours ! " cried Jaffrey. Then he broke forth into loud denuncia- 
tions of his guest, calling him a liar and a deceiver and such 
like names, and ordering him forthwith to leave his house. 
And as Lancaster listened, with clenched hands and scornful 
eyes, Lettice glided suddenly between him and her father. 

" Father ! " she said, " you forget that he is your guest. I 
pray you speak less cruelly." 

" Do you know, girl, what he is ? A two-faced Papist, who 
has crawled into my house to deceive you and me ! " 

" I did not know it until your loud words reached me in 
the hall," replied the girl, growing whiter and trembling a 
little. " 'Tis a sad thing, I know. But I think we should not 
judge him fiercely for it ; remember, sir, he has been so bred. 
And he has not deceived us, for when the time came he 
acknowledged his religion frankly." 

" Hold your wheedling woman's tongue, so quick to make 
excuses ! Would you be pleased to marry this fine gentleman 
of yours ? Speak up and let us know ; for by the Lord, if 'tis 
so, then you and he go out from my roof to-night, and my 
curse goes with you ! " 

For a moment Lettice stood with her hands clasped tight 
upon her bosom, looking with frightened eyes from one man 
to the other ; and then she turned toward her father, sobbing 

That night Lancaster left the Jaffrey house and went to 
the Sign of the Earl of Halifax in the town, while Lettice cried 
the brightness out of her young eyes, her head pillowed on old 
Deborah's sympathetic breast. A week dragged slowly by, and 
then one day to the young girl, listlessly dreaming in her 
room, came Deborah, bustling mightily and saying, with much 
mysterious wagging of her old head, that the wild-flowers in 


the grove behind the house were simply crying for some one 
to pluck them, and Lettice, looking at the woman's significant 
eyes, guessed her meaning and fled swiftly from the house. 

Lancaster stood waiting for her in the grove. The place 
was very still a place of soft, violet shadows, streaked with 
cool, green shafts of light from the sunbeams piercing the first 
tender leaves of spring. Quickly the young man told her of 
ineffectual efforts on his part the past week to weaken her 
father's prejudice against him. His efforts proving fruitless, he 
had at last begged Deborah to arrange a meeting for them. 
Then with eager words he begged the girl to brave her father's 
wrath and marry him. But Lettice, with white face and 
mourning eyes, said " No ! " A girl's first duty was to obey 
her father. She dared not brave his curse ; 'twould be an aw- 
ful thing to do, and worse than awful when that curse was 
brought down upon one in the name of religion. 

"If only," she murmured wistfully, "your faith were other 
than it is." 

" Ah, dear one," he replied, " you would not have me deny 
what I know is the truth ? " 

And Lettice, shuddering, sighed " No." 

"But you do love me, Lettice?" 

" You know that, sir," she returned, flushing rosy red. 

" Then promise me that you will wait until I return. For I 
will return it may be many months, but I shall come back. 
I will return with proofs of my identity and of my family's 
worth. Your father's objection must grow less if he knows 
you are true to me. In the end we must conquer. Will you 
promise ? " 

"Yes, I promise." 

Suddenly the young man knelt and kissed her hand rever- 
ently. Then rising, he gave to her the little book which he 
had brought with him from the wreck. 

"It was my mother's," he whispered; "keep it for her sake 
and mine, and sometimes read in it, I pray." 

Another moment, and he was gone. That night Lettice 
opened the book, and read upon the fly-leaf, in delicate, old- 
fashioned writing, the words : " Barbara Gerrard, Saint Inigoes, 
Maryland." She turned the leaf and looked curiously at the 
title-page, upon which, in heavy, antique type, was printed 
" The Imitation of Christ. Translated out of the Latin, and 
printed at Douai, Anno Domini MDCLVI." 

The months that followed were dreary months for the deso- 
late girl, grown suddenly into a woman with grave eyes and 


drooping mouth. But as the summer drifted into autumn a 
subtile change came over her. At first her sorrow had been 
demonstrative and she had wandered restlessly, aimlessly about 
the old house, but now she was become strangely calm, and 
her eyes had grown thoughtful, but with a questioning, half- 
puzzled note in their depths. George Jaffrey viewed with com- 
placency his daughter's calmness of manner ; her eyes he did 
not notice, and was too dense to see their new look even if he 
had. Her changed manner, he thought, could mean nothing 
but a gradual forgetting of her insane infatuation for the 
Maryland " Papist," and he set himself to arranging a plan for 
her future with a smug security which would have suffered a 
rude shock could he have guessed the true cause of the girl's 
growing calmness. The truth was that the old monk of St. 
Agnes had spoken across the centuries to Lettice's torn heart 
and brought peace to her soul. Day after day she had pored 
over the words of a Kempis, until the divine message to tired 
souls of the Imitation had entered her heart and strengthened 
her spirit. But as she drank in the teachings of the marvellous 
book, there gradually came to her the question that if such 
were the books which "Papists" wrote and loved, then could 
it be possible that their religion was the horrible thing she had 
been taught to think it ? This thought half terrified her, and 
she strove to put it away, but could not, and the questioning 
look in her clear eyes deepened and remained. 

In November, when the bleak New England winter was 
beginning to close in upon the old house and its silent inmates, 
two incidents ruffled the sad monotony of Lettice's life. The 
first was a letter to her from Lancaster under cover to Deborah. 
It was written from Brussels, where, he wrote, he had gone to 
get his sister, who had been there in the convent school of the 
English Dominican nuns a Catholic education in England 
being impossible on account of the penal laws against the old 
faith in force in that country. They were about leaving for 
England, where they would be the guests of kinsmen in Lan- 
cashire until such time as he could safely return to Maryland ; 
a time, he hoped, which would be short, as he had heard from 
his father that the feeling against the Jacobites was cooling, and 
Governor Hart had himself hinted that by spring the excite- 
ment would be blown over entirely and the ringleaders in the 
foolish outbreak on the Pretender's birthday might return in 
safety to the colony. Meantime he begged Lettice to be brave, 
saying that by the end of the summer he would come again and 
in due form demand her hand in marriage from her father once 


more. Letters, he knew, were dangerous things for her to 
receive, even under Deborah's name, and they must both be 
brave and hold their hearts in such peace as the good God 
might grant them until he came. This letter, I suspect, Let- 
tice cried over and kissed, and kept constantly about her 

The second incident followed quickly upon the heels of 
this first one. It was nothing less than the announcement 
by George Jaffrey that he had arranged a marriage for his 
daughter. Lettice listened with fear and horror as her father, 
with much pompous dignity and loudness of voice, detailed 
his plan. The man chosen by him was his sister's only son, 
George Jaffrey Jeffries, a shifty-eyed, thin-lipped personage 
for whom his uncle had hitherto expressed the profoundest 
contempt and dislike, and the girl's horror was blended with 
bewilderment at her father's choice. But the matter was, 
in truth, easily explained. Mr. Jaffrey, like most fathers, had 
remained blind to the fact that his child was grown into 
young womanhood until the Marylander's suit had awakened 
him to the knowledge of that fact. Fearing a repetition 
of that, to him, unpleasant episode, and resolved at all hazards 
to for ever block the way to a renewal of the " papist's" de- 
mand for his daughter's hand, he had cast about for a suit- 
able husband for her among their friends. With happy thought 
he hit upon Jeffries, a young fellow half Jaffrey by blood, 
possessed of a fair fortune, just graduated from Harvard College, 
and above all a weak-willed creature who was safe to submit 
unquestioningly to his father-in-law's dictation. One of the 
crosses of George Jaffrey's life had been the fact that he was 
the last male of his name, and when, upon questioning Jeffries, 
he learned that that gentleman would have no manner of 
objection to dropping his patronymic and becoming George 
Jaffrey the fourth (in consideration of Lettice's hand and the 
Jaffrey fortune), the old man mentally patted himself on the 
back as a person of shrewdness and fine judgment, and lost no 
time in acquainting his daughter of her sentence. That Lettice 
forthwith refused flatly to accept that sentence as final, declar- 
ing absolutely that she would not marry her cousin, disturbed 
him not a whit. He was her father ; a father's word was law ; 
she was a sentimental, undutiful child, but willy-nilly she was 
to be the wife of George Jaffrey the fourth. The winter 
dragged on without bringing to the unhappy Jaffrey household 
any hint of a peaceable solution of the problem which con- 
fronted them. Lettice remained firm in her refusal to recognize 


her cousin as a prospective husband, while her father main- 
tained doggedly his assumption that the marriage was to be 
celebrated before another year was lapsed. Meantime the 
object of their disagreement, divided between a wholesome fear 
of Lettice's scornful eyes and a very decided hankering for the 
Jaffrey estate, sustained as best he might the somewhat difficult 
role of an affianced man whose bride-to-be recognized the fact 
of his existence only to ignore it unyieldingly. At length, when 
another spring was breaking into warmth and life, George 
Jaffrey, thinking the proper time was at hand, announced to 
his daughter that she might make up her mind to wed her 
cousin in St. John's Church within the month. Whereupon the 
girl, grown white and stern, replied that while he might take 
her by force to that sanctuary of the Church of England, no 
power on earth could make her wed her cousin ; for at the 
place in the ceremony where the clergyman should ask her if 
she took George Jaffrey Jeffries to be her wedded husband she 
would cry out a " no " so long and loud that the old rector 
would dare not pronounce them man and wife. And her father, 
looking into her wan young face, believed her words and said no 
more, but grew sulkily severe towards her as the days lengthened, 
while the girl, withdrawing more and more into the silent com- 
panionship of a Kempis, prayed constantly that with the sum- 
mer Lancaster might come and that with his coming strength 
might be given her to do what should be right and just to all. 
But before the summer came another cloud darkened her life 
and set her plans adrift. Her father, called to England upon 
urgent business, commanded her to get ready to accompany 
him. In vain she plead to be left at home with faithful 
Deborah. Mr. Jaffrey had a new plan for compassing his ends 
with which the voyage to England promised to work well ;* 
besides, he suspected old Deborah's tacit approval of his 
daughter's course and was glad enough to separate them, a 
thing he would have accomplished by turning the old woman 
from his door had he not realized how essential her services 
were to his well-ordered establishment. So with many tears 
and with reiterated petitions to Deborah to explain to Lancaster 
(should he appear in Portsmouth during the summer) how help- 
less she had been to do otherwise, and penning a brief little 
letter for delivery to him, Lettice prepared to do her father's 
bidding. And one peaceful June day she left the old house 
which had been the home of so much happiness and so much 
trouble, and, clinging to Deborah's strong arm, went down to 
her father's good ship Princess Anne, lying to at Portsmouth dock. 


George Jaffrey was waiting for them, and beside him stood his 
nephew. The startled, questioning look that passed between 
the girl and her companion did not escape him. " Your cousin 
goes with us," he said, frowning darkly. " Tis a long voyage 
and he'll be good company for us both." And old Deborah 
glared at him in reply over Lettice's shoulder as she folded 
the girl in her arms in fond farewell, whispering to her to be 
of good cheer and advising her, with sad vindictiveness I fear, 
14 to shove that ugly, cringing Jeffries overboard if he gave her 
any of his impudence." 

For us, to whom a journey across the Atlantic is but a mat- 
ter of six days of luxury and rest, it is difficult to realize what 
that voyage meant to our great-grandfathers. Weeks of confine- 
ment in narrow and uncomfortable quarters, at the mercy of 
wind and wave, the dreary monotony of the journey was re- 
lieved only by the sense of ever-present and unavoidable danger. 
And to Lettice's fate was added the burden of the close and 
never-to-be-avoided companionship of a sullen and estranged 
father and of a distasteful and mercenary suitor. Intolerable 
as was her position on shipboard, the girl dreaded with some- 
thing akin to terror their arrival in England. Well-nigh before 
they had lost sight of the American coast she had guessed her 
father's intention in bringing Jeffries with them, and, having 
little hope that Lancaster had not already returned to Mary- 
land, her future was indeed dark to her young eyes. 

At length one night, near the end of their journey, her father 
dropped all disguise and told her plainly that with their land- 
ing upon English soil the long-deferred wedding would take 
place. He pictured in strong language her undutifulness and 
his patience, dwelling long upon the advantages and suitable- 
ness of a marriage with her cousin, and ending with the threat, 
if she .again defied his authority, to disown her and set her 
adrift among strangers in a strange land. Lettice listened in 
terror-stricken silence, too crushed to reply to him, and when 
he had finished she stole away to the ship's stern and stood 
there silent, with dry eyes and cold, still hands. The night 
was very calm ; the spangled, dark-blue vault of the sky above 
her seemed strangely vast and awesome ; the black, writhing 
waters beneath her, stretching away in the pale starlight 
until lost in the mysterious shadows of the night, at once fas- 
cinated and terrified her ; the intense silence of a night at sea, 
broken only by the stealthy wash of the water against the 
ship's sides and the mournful creak of the rigging high above 
her head, enfolded her like a soft, thick, stifling veil. For one 


wild, wretched moment she dreamed of slipping quietly over the 
ship's rail into the beckoning sea, and then with sudden tears 
she hid her face within her now hot hands and prayed. 

A drizzling, drifting rain was falling when at last the Prin- 
cess Anne completed her long journey and moored in the Avon 
River just off Trail's wharf, in the old town of Bristol. Her 
three passengers were soon taken on board a rowboat and de- 
posited safely upon the wharf, whence they passed to " The Mer- 
maid," the famous water-side tavern of the place. The house 
of Jaffrey was well known among the wharf-masters and impor- 
ters of Bristol, and a word from Mr. Trail to the rubicund 
landlord of " The Mermaid " secured for George Jaffrey and 
his companions an amount of obsequious attention wonderful 
to behold. After a tremendous banging of doors and stamp- 
ing of clattering pattens across the glistening flag-stones of the 
inn-yard, the distinguished Americans were duly installed in the 
best rooms of the house rooms distinguished, after the fashion 
of the day, by such fantastic titles as the " Lily " or the " Dol- 
phin." George Jaffrey had business to transact with some of 
the importers of the town, and, after informing his daughter 
that next day they would proceed on their way to London, 
where a certain event of great interest to her was to occur, 
he went majestically forth, with his nephew in tow, deeming it 
proper that that prospective inheritor of the Jaffrey fortune 
should learn something of the Jaffrey business. 

Left alone in the dark old inn, Lettice's forebodings of the 
coming struggle in London quickly merged into absolute panic, 
and she paced her room excitedly. Knowing only too well the 
uselessness of appealing to her father to spare her the dishonor 
of such a marriage as he proposed ; realizing that her cousin, 
with all the cruelty of a petty soul intent upon accomplishing 
its own selfish ends, would stoop to any infamy to gain pos- 
session of the Jaffrey fortune, and fearing that Lancaster her 
only friend in all England was already on the other side of 
the Atlantic, her plight indeed seemed hopeless. As the long 
English twilight began to steal into her room the feeling of 
helpless isolation became unbearable to the young girl, and re- 
membering the landlady's cozy nook off the public room down- 
stairs, in which she had rested while her father had examined 
critically the quarters assigned to his party by their loquacious 
host, she resolved to go thither, desperate as she was for some 
human companionship in her desolate mood. The low-ceiled, 
oak-panelled room was empty when she opened the door and 



peered into its shadowy depths, save for the presence of a man 
who loitered by one of the open windows looking out at the 
sunset. His back was towards her, and she slipped quietly 
across the silent room to the glass-enclosed corner which she 
sought. That, too, was empty, and she heard the sharp chatter 
of the landlady's voice in the kitchen at the rear, where, with 
much berating of flurried maids, she superintended the prepara- 
tion of the evening meal. The rain had ceased falling, and 
Lettice's eyes travelled listlessly across the still wet and glisten- 
ing cobble-stones of the street, passing thence to the shining 
water of the Avon River, and then to the red western sky. She 
wondered if perchance any other eyes looked out at that sun- 
set splendor so full of fear as her's if possibly any other soul 
in Bristol dreaded the morrow, and in truth all future days, as 
she dreaded them. 

The solitary watcher in the outer room had seemed to her 
to wear a melancholy air, and her weary mind went back to 
him. She turned and looked towards his window, and as she 
did so the man left his place and passed to the inn door. As 
he lifted the latch he turned and looked idly back into the 
room, the sunset light falling full upon his face, and suddenly 
a strange, low cry half sob, half articulate speech startled the 

In a moment the man had crossed the dim room and was 
standing with bewildered eyes beside the half-fainting girl, 
crying softly : " Lettice, Lettice, speak to me ! It is I Ger- 

Quickly then she told him of her coming to England, and 
of the marriage which her father so stubbornly persisted in 
forcing upon her, and of her terror and helplessness. And 
Lancaster, listening with hushed breath, grew white and stern, 
but with a glad light in his face as he guessed her constancy 
to him. With rapid words he told her that he was just quitting 
England for his home ; that already his sister was on shipboard, 
and that he, led by some kind providence, had accompanied 
the ship's captain to land for an hour or two before they sailed, 
and had been loitering idly in the inn until the hour was come 
for their return to the ship. Then eagerly he begged her to 
go with them, saying that already Hilda knew of her and loved 
her, and would be a sister to her during the long voyage, and 
when at last they were come to Maryland they would be mar- 
ried in his father's house and with his father's blessing, adding 
gently, "And, Lettice, fear naught for religion's sake. I and 


mine are Catholics, but never, never shall you be made unhap- 
py by that. And, dear one, when you know more of our faith, 
you may, with God's help, see its truth." 

And Lettice, looking up at him with her pure eyes, replied 
simply : " I have read your mother's little book right diligently, 
and, Gerrard, I would I knew more of the old faith." 

" Then you will come ? " he whispered. 

For what seemed to him like long, slow minutes the girl 
stood silent, with her look fixed upon the fading sunset light. 
He saw her lips move as though she prayed. And then she 
turned and looked intently into his anxious eyes. With a sigh 
like a tired child she held her hands towards him. 

"May God have mercy on me if I am doing wrong!" she 
whispered. " Yes, I will go." 

The next morning a sullenly furious man and his silent 
companion journeyed eastward through the placid English coun- 
tryside towards London. George Jaffrey had found, upon his 
return to the inn, a little tear-stained, beseeching note from his 
daughter, telling him that she was gone with Lancaster, beg- 
ging for forgiveness, and praying him to write to her in Mary- 
land. For a time the tavern had rung with the old man's 
wrath. He had cursed everybody and everything, from Jeffries 
to the landlady, and had declared by all the powers that he 
would charter a ship and overtake the Maryland-bound vessel, 
if he had to follow it across the Atlantic. But finally his rage 
had worn him out and quiet had descended upon the Bristol 
tavern. In the morning, however, his ill-humor again vented 
itself, and his nephew was the victim of much abuse as they 
journeyed Londonwards abuse which that young man was able 
to bear with considerable equanimity, since he shrewdly sur- 
mised that by her flight his cousin had for ever forfeited all 
claim upon her father's estate, and that he, George Jaffrey 
Jeffries, was destined to succeed to that rich heritage as George 
Jaffrey the fourth ; and he chuckled a little to himself in his 
corner of their travelling-carriage at the thought of Lettice's 
vain regret when she should realize that she was a pauper. 

But, standing on the deck of the good ship Calvert, with 
her hand tight clasped in Hilda Lancaster's, Lettice, looking 
towards the west and towards Maryland, dreamed of better 
things than the money and lands and the rich India trade of 
the house of Jaffrey. 




its social side religion has been treated as a 
branch of the science of anthropology ; and we 
opine with very unsatisfactory results. We 
share the objections of religious men to the 
handling of man's relations with his Creator in 
the same manner as the connection of physical phenomena or 
the laws that govern the development of society would be 
dealt with ; but, fortunately or unfortunately, nothing is sacred 
in our time from the application of what are called scien- 
tific methods. We think, then, that a word or two examining, 
according to their own methods, the views of leading men 
of science on the origin of religion may show that their views 
cannot be deemed satisfactory. 

In all that we purpose saying we put aside revelation as an 
authority. We mean to treat the subject on the natural plane, 
and if we refer to revelation at all, it will be only as an his- 
torical fact, as an incident like a war, or the promulgation 
of a code, or any other influence that has affected the fortunes 
of the race. In taking this course we are not prepared to 
concede that an assumption is an established fact or an inviola- 
ble law. We do not intend to concede that Christianity is only 
fetichism professed by white men not yet intellectually free. 
Until this is proved, we intend to retain our own opinion of 
the origin and meaning of Christianity. The mere statement that 
religion is a fungus grown on the old stem of ancestor-worship 
has to be made clear before we acknowledge that millions of 
men bore incredible hardships, faced dangers of every kind to 
propagate their opinions, sealed their belief in them in their 
blood, and did all this for a delusion. 

The theory just mentioned has a plausible appearance. 
Men have an affection for the memory of their dead. They 
bury them with circumstances of respect. Time purifies and 
elevates the sentiment into a worship. The grandfather becomes 
a tutelary deity ; later on, he is a national god wielding the 
powers of nature, or delegating the control of them to subor- 
dinates whom he has created for the purpose or raised from 
humanity for the purpose. In this evolution we have four 


stages: first, the ancestor reverenced from affection; second, 
made awful by time to the poor savages, helpless amid the forces 
of nature and confronted by the great beasts of the early 
earth ; third, fetichism developing in the savage's employing 
him to counteract the agencies of nature and the might of the 
brutes ; fourth, animism, in the spirits created or elevated to 
the tasks imposed upon them by the dead ancestor for his 
naked descendant's benefit. 

This is the evolution of religion presented by the intellec- 
tual Titans of the nineteenth century. A vast collection of 
experiences drawn from savage and semi-civilized peoples has 
led them to this conclusion. We are not pressing our suspicion 
that the old exploded theory, that the religion of civilized na- 
tions was the product of priestcraft, helped them to reach this 
conclusion. It is for the present sufficient to point out that 
this genesis of religion effaces God as a reality while incon- 
sistently making a belief in him a fundamental principle of 
human nature. This extraordinary contradiction in the mem- 
bers of the theory is obvious to every one except the philoso- 
phers who propound it. It is not our business to reconcile a 
universal belief in the existence of God with the denial of his 
existence. Nothing will convince us that the external world 
does not exist, even though Hume and Mill give very ingenious 
reasons for denying its existence ; and, in a somewhat similar 
manner, though Haeckel, Herbert Spencer, Huxley, Romanes,* 
and, last and least, Mr. Grant Allen pooh-pooh religion as un- 
worthy of an enlightened mind; still the mind insists upon be- 
lieving in the Object of religion. This, we think, is very impor- 
tant and justifies us in assuming the attitude that, as religion 
is in possession, it must be conclusively shown that there is no 
warrant for it, that the reason revolts at it, that it degrades man 
to the level of the savage, that it makes intellect sterile, that 
owing to it the world has advanced with slow and difficult 
steps, and that there will be no real progress until religion is 
effaced from the life and the memory of mankind; all this, we 
say, must be proved before we are called upon to surrender 
God to the enemies of man. 

No ; we are not going to be deluded by clap-trap, under the 
titles of freedom of opinion, boldness of inquiry, emancipated 
thought and intellectual liberty, into accepting the dreary 

* Romanes returned to a belief in God in his later years ; though at one time he stated his 
disbelief with the passionate air of a zealot. We are not by any means sure that his disbelief 
was genuine. Notwithstanding the recent admiration expressed for this gentleman's charac- 
ter, we think he was not quite fair in his reports of the result of his observations. 


negation which annihilates hope of immortal life in the world 
to come and destroys social obligation, the very essence, 
the bone and marrow, of our life on earth. It is singular, the 
flippancy of those savants when they refer all the worships of 
the world since the earliest times to ancestor-worship as their 
source ! Various as the worships are in ceremony, inspiration, 
moral content and history, our men of science, with a wave 
of the hand and a supercilious lifting of the lip and eyebrow, 
fling them back to the naked savage of ages ago, jabbering and 
howling over the hole into which he has put his father. Chris- 
tianity and fetichism have their common origin in this ; the only 
difference is the stage of evolution each has reached. The 
Christianity of the elect is the anthropoidal stage from which 
the bathed, perfumed, sartorized, and barberized biped of no 
feathers save his wife's, looks to heaven or to hell for the 
call to become anthropical, to become a worshipper in the 
temple of nature which is to be set up by the religion of 

As we have been saying, we require proof that Christianity 
is a development of Mumbo-Jumboism, or Indian devil-worship, 
or any kind of fetichism. We must again lay down, pace the 
evolutionists, the position that in social forms evolution may 
mean change and not progress. We express no opinion con- 
cerning physiological types ; they are not in question. What we 
say is, that when evolution is predicated of a social or intel- 
lectual type, it may even express retrogression. It matters 
nothing that the etymology of the word seems against this ; we 
have not invented it ; the unrolling or unfolding of a social 
type is often in the direction of decadence. The Roman Empire 
was an evolution from the republic, the polytheism of Virgil is 
not a higher religious fact than Homer's a thousand years be- 
fore, but the continuum of evolution is found in the political 
and religious facts named, all the same.* 

We require proof of the hypothesis that Christianity is such 
a development as that mentioned above. Objections to the 
divinity of its Founder and the practical attainment of the 
morality of the Gospel are not in point. The phenomenon is : 
a creed and a worship such as that described in the Sacred 
Books and the history of the Jewish people, culminating in the 
world-wide Christian Church and its revolted sects, springing 
from the clouded brain of a savage drawn in some unexplained 

* We owe these two illustrations to Dr. Jevons's Introduction to the History of Religion, 
but a multitude may be supplied by the reader himself. 


way to believe his grandfather was a god. We are in the do- 
main of nature now. We stand on the same level as our ad- 
versaries ; we say nothing of revelation ; we confine ourselves 
to facts of the individual mind and facts of society. We have 
the fact of the Christian Church and the antagonistic sects. 
We have the hypothesis of the savage adoring his grandfather. 
The hypothesis must explain all the facts of the development. 
We must know how the savage came to worship his ancestor, 
and why it was the ancestor was an atheist ; how the descen- 
dant's positive belief in the supernatural came from the negative 
of the non-belief of his ancestor. This is the evolution we 
want accounted for ; of something from nothing, an evolution, 
to use the jargon of Agnosticism, simply unthinkable, or, as 
we should say, in defiance of the laws of thought. We must 
have every step of the evolution explained. We must know 
how the ancestor came upon the stage, and whence ; what were 
his physical, mental, and moral qualities. We are not to be 
deluded by an assumption of the infinitely potential influence 
of time. 

We state, in broader terms than we have yet used, the 
method by which, according to our adversaries, a belief in the 
supernatural has been evolved. In some way, as they explain 
it, the first death in the family caused terror. Pathetic stories 
are told of the effect produced on infant apes when they find 
they can no longer arouse the attention of their mother. A 
change which they cannot comprehend, and which at the same 
time frightens them, has taken place. The primitive man, for 
the first time face to face with death, experienced something 
more than the fear of the infant ape ; he had the germs of the 
mysterious, until then latent, and they unfolded themselves into 
awe of the dead as of something that went beyond him, in the 
case of one who had hitherto been most closely associated with 
his life. So extreme a change in a familiar object, a newness 
of aspect so extreme, a condition at the opposite pole from his 
experience, must have affected him as nothing had done before. 
Whatever he did with the body whether he ate it, after apply- 
ing the comparative method, by which he arrived at the conclusion 
that its lifelessness was like that of the animals he had killed, or 
whether he buried it the recollection of his previous terror was 
a fact stored away in his consciousness to be recalled in some 
emergency. The first injury which after this he experienced 
from conflict with an animal, or sustained from the action of 
some force of nature, he attributed to the influence of his dead 


father. It became necessary to propitiate this malignant spirit by 
some kind of offerings and rites. In the next generation it seems 
there was an advance, for not only was the dead man prayed 
not to interrupt his descendant's action, but to aid it. He is 
now a fetich that can work miracles by controlling the powers 
of nature, so that we have the magic of rain-making, sunshine- 
making. As the number of men increase, family invocation of 
this spirit gives way to professional, and so the sorcerer appears 
upon the scene. But at this stage primitive man began to con- 
ceive all activity that affected him as endowed with a will like 
his own ; so the world became peopled by spirits like his, but 
with greater powers. The sorcerer gives way to the priest, the 
fetich becomes an idol that is, the dead ancestor becomes a 
god and at length the worship of the house becomes the reli- 
gion of the district and the state. We omit totemism from 
the stages of evolution, because it has been introduced by the 
theorists very much as an after-thought. We shall consider it 
in another article, where we hope to show that whatever it 
may mean in a theory of religious evolution, it is apart from 
and independent of ancestor-worship. We should like to have 
some theory of the selection of crests : why had the proudest 
house that ever lived a twig of broom as its cognizance, while 
another house, not remarkable for reckless courage, has a lion ? 
The humility of the Plantagenets and the boldness of the How- 
ards, as represented by their crests, strike us as the most refined 
irony. What totemistic mystery is hidden in them in relation 
to either family the savants should tell. 

This is the account we have. We do not mean to trouble 
ourselves with an analysis of the evolution as here stated, 
though it can be distinctly proved that the fetich is a decadent 
idol, and that the priest preceded the sorcerer, or, in other words, 
that religion preceded magic. We are simply dealing with our 
adversaries on their own ground, and combating them with 
their own materials. We are not satisfied with the theory that 
the process originated in fear. The experience of mankind is 
in favor of the existence of family affection in savages, and 
undoubtedly all the cults of which we have any knowledge ex- 
hibit a veneration of the family dead. We should like to know 
why love of the dead should not be as manifest in the savage 
standing by his parent's corpse as the dim sense of loss ex- 
pressed in the lamentation of the infant ape. However, we 
pass this by and examine the history of ancestor-worship as it 
is presented by our opponents. 


If the ancestor stepped out from an inferior type of life, he 
was at one time an infant and must have differed from his 
brothers and his cousins. How did he escape their jealousy in 
his weaker infancy, his less hardy and resourceful childhood, 
with his greater susceptibility to physical pain superadded to a 
monopoly of mental pain ? Where did he get his mate, as- 
suming that he passed through these dangers ? Suppose she 
was an accidental differentiation, like himself passing through 
the like ordeal, and that natural selection brought them to- 
gether. Were they driven out from their simian tribe as out- 
laws, to combat with the great beasts of the night of time, ages 
and ages before the dawn of history ? What is their story? They 
must have multiplied with rapidity in spite of everything, for 
their descendants, whether savants or savages, are in every 
quarter of the globe ; but we would fain know how the first 
two guarded their offspring, what sent into the offspring a ten- 
dency to worship their parents, what fashioned in the third 
generation a cult out of this tendency, why the cult was 
directed to the degraded grandfather rather than to the son, 
who was an improved type ; and why at all to beings more 
degraded than themselves ? These questions being hypotheti- 
cally answered, we wish to know why four thousand years have 
not developed a similar cult among our simi-an cousins ? Until 
all this is satisfactorily shown, we shall hold the opinion that 
the theory of accidental veneration is physically improbable ; 
and that this genesis of worship, this evolution of the idea of 
God and our relations to him expressed by worship, is the 
most absurd of all the stupidities of science. 

It will appear from the foregoing that we could have rested 
content with the suggestion that the assaults on religion im- 
plied in the accounts of its origin criticised above are of no 
solid character, only that we fear certain hypotheses of our ad- 
versaries on the nature of religion in general, and inferences 
from the rites and customs connected with worship to be found 
at present in various parts of the globe, have made some kind 
of lodgment in the minds of a considerable circle of readers to 
whom novelty and a spurious science are attractions. On the 
threshold such readers would reject the idea that religion in 
some aspect is a fundamental principle of human nature, because 
we are told that there are peoples or tribes so degraded as to 
have no conception of a God ; that there are peoples or tribes 
who have an idea of something outside visible nature which 
possesses a malignant power, the exercise of which is to be 


deprecated. We do not think it is material to the argument 
whether this is true or not. It must be borne in mind that 
what our adversaries profess to do is to explain the origin of 
religion, and this presupposes the existence of a fact called 
religion. We are aware that there are religions of various 
kinds over the globe; and of no people of whom we have 
read, in history or works of travel and discovery, has it been 
said that they had no relation of any kind with the unseen 
world of spirits exercising an influence on this. Devil- 
worshippers, if there have been any such persons, suit our 
purpose as well as any others when they are taken along 
with the worship of piety so universally found in time and 

But the truth is, the notion that any people exists which 
is without some idea of God and some mode of expressing 
it, has been for some time exploded. It would not advance 
the theory of our adversaries one hair's-breadth if such a 
people were found, but such a people has not been found ; 
and the contrary notion is grounded on one of those so-called 
facts directed against belief in the principles and sanctions that 
have done so much to mitigate the lot of mankind ; facts which 
owe their authority to incomplete observation. In other words, 
settled convictions, based on principles which have held the 
moral elements of the world together since the earliest recorded 
time, are expected to give way to data that fuller examination 
may pronounce valueless. This has been the case so often 
that we are justified, when we hear of a new theory that seems 
to strike against some moral law or some fact of revelation, in 
inquiring whether discovery has said the last word concerning 
the material on which the theory rests. Now, if it happened 
that a tribe existed which had no idea of a God and of religion, 
it would seem that it had descended to a lower grade, the low- 
est probably, instead of being on the road of ascent. At least 
such a theory is the sounder one tried by the test of intelligible 

Any one can conceive that an isolated troop of nomad sav- 
ages, degenerating from generation to generation, might lose all 
recollection of the customs of a higher life. No one can un- 
derstand how, if the whole of mankind were at one time in 
the lowest scale, the idea of religion should spontaneously 
spring up in all except that one. If the idea of religion has 
not found its way from an external source, there is no con- 
ceivable reason why such a troop should not possess it as well 


as the rest of the world. The quality of the religion is beside 
the question. It is quite immaterial whether it was monotheism 
or polytheism at first ; whether it was God conceived by the 
pure intellect or an anthropomorphous deity, alone or with a 
legion of subordinates to whom worship was offered through 
the motives of hope and fear. The fact of such an idea of reli- 
gion is the material thing. Does the idea exist practically in 
the whole human race, and what is its source ? If the source 
be external, one sees how it could be lost ; if it be not exter- 
nal, one cannot understand how it could remain unevolved 
at this advanced stage of the life of the race among the men 
forming any social unit, however low in the scale of civiliza- 

We are expressing no opinion concerning the source of 
religion. We are told that it has been formed from within, 
that it revealed itself in ancestor-worship, in animism, and what 
not. If so, why are the degraded savages we suppose without 
it? It will not do to say that they stand in the exact .position 
of the ancestor first worshipped or of Mr. Spencer's fetich- 
worshipper who chastises his god for not obeying him. There 
must be some limit to the gestation of mental products ; we 
cannot be for ever feeding on hypotheses. The evolution of 
the capacity for god-creating, if there be such a mental 
growth at all, must have done something, in the long time 
between the present godless savage we are supposing and 
that ancestor who issued from an anthropoidal womb. But on 
our assumption nothing has been done ; then has evolution 
become sterile in this social unit? That cannot be, however, 
for evolution is an inexorable law under which there is 
no rest. The intellect can conceive a void, despite Mr. 
Spencer's dogmatic decree that it is unthinkable ; but we admit 
that the moment we fill it with the universe and its activities, 
the mind refuses to believe in rest. Change is on everything, 
and this is the same as to say there is nothing which is not 
subject to the law of evolution. We are so far at one with our 
adversaries, but that does not free them from the necessity of 
accounting for the failure of the evolution of religion among 
any section of the human race. As long as it could be main- 
tained that ^there was such a section, they pointed to it as a 
proof of their theory of the origin of religion. This theory, so 
far as it is not a begging of the question, stands or falls with 
the statement of the so-called fact ; while, on the other hand, 
our position is unaffected by such casualties. 


We have no theory on the subject ; we believe in divine 
revelation, and deem the knowledge of our destiny derived from 
it not only sufficient for the demands of our intellectual and 
moral nature, but the only knowledge able to save from despair 
in the future of the human race. The value of our opponents' 
theory of moral and religious evolution may be easily tested by 
a little introspection, coupled with our knowledge of societies in 
the highest conditions of civilization and much that we know 
of in the life of our age. The most a Roman plutocrat could 
hope for in the first century after our Lord's coming was an 
intimation that the emperor permitted him to die. Let men 
look into themselves and truly answer what stays their hand 
when the bare bodkin is so near. Certainly, no phantasy of an 
indefinite advancement of humanity, whose primal root is the 
unconscious altruism of a savage barely distinguishable from the 
ape he so much resembled in face and figure, and the wolf he 
so much resembled in disposition. But, of course, the savage, 
with his germinal altruism, is a hypothesis whose predicate, if 
not by the very force of the words the direct denial of the 
subject, is at least the denial of it, if there be one shred, one 
particle of value in the experience of mankind. We hope to 
return to this subject in a future number. 




N the course of the study and pursuit of truth, 
and when we deem ourselves, perhaps, to have 
entrenched our convictions by hard and patient 
labor upon a solid ground-work of logic, learning, 
and reflection, there comes at times such a sense 
of utter inadequacy, imperfection, and indefiniteness in our con- 
ception of the truth so long pursued, that we feel brought 
back to the very starting-point no more informed after all 
than the least of our fellows; as though we had been merely 
juggling with words all the time, and following an ignis fatuus 
which mocks us at the last almost to scepticism and despair. 

Courage, O lover of truth ! philosopher under whatever 
designation you may otherwise be called. Truth is no deceiver, 
and man is made for truth. Suddenly there will come a 
moment when, quietly perhaps and silently, an overwhelming 
realization will in turn seize upon you that you stand in 
the very presence of the cherished truth. 

The mind is quickened to a new faculty ; no longer a mere 
ratiocination, but an intuition, so to speak, midway between 
sight and faith ; a realization of a knowledge no more to be 
eradicated, by which the exulting spirit exclaims : Invent te 
at last I have found thee ; Scio cui credidi now I know in what 
I have believed. 

Who can describe the intellectual joy of the experience 
the mental view, as from afar, of various results and conse- 
quences of the truth acquired, its fitting place in the harmonies 
and consistencies of other truths, its beauty and the admiration 
and the love which it inspires ? 

But if this be true in mere intellectual pursuits and re- 
searches, as it has indeed been so repeatedly felt and expressed 
by the investigators of the things of physical nature, what must 
be the rapture and the consolation of a like sincerity and per- 
severance in spiritual things, religious truths, the primary inter- 
ests of the eternal and infinite Divinity? 

Such an experience in physical matters has echoed down 
the ages in the famous " Eureka ! " of Archimedes. We seem 
to hear it now in all its exultation. In intellectual ones we are 


familiar with the rhapsodies of Plato ; and the illuminations of 
St. Augustine treading the sea-shore come promptly to the mind. 
Indeed, all searchers in one department or another of human 
endeavor have become acquainted with phases of the fact which 
it is sought here to imperfectly portray. God has not excluded 
any steadfast inquirer after truth from the operation and the con- 
solation of this inducing and loving dispensation of his provi- 
dence. How many of us but could relate examples of such a feel- 
ing in all sorts of directions, and such a realization of some truths 

" Which we cannot all express, yet cannot all conceal." 

If, then, we reflect upon this assured and easily demonstrated 
fact, how cavil at the relation of experiences so similar in 
intrinsic principle, however higher or intenser in degree, which 
we are told of by those spiritual searchers after truth the 
saints? Truly, so far from wondering at their ecstasies and rap- 
tures, one can almost at the mention feel the necessity and 
certainty of the result, and long, like Lazarus, for even the 
crumbs that may fall from mere perusal. Here are searchers of 
most honest purpose, of most persevering effort, with the utmost 
singleness of will and purity of intention, seeking after the 
noblest truths not seeking only with the mind but with the 
will ; not simply in thought but in deed. All the thaumaturgies 
recited of them are not equal to the thaumaturgy of their life 
itself. What revelations of eternal truth, what apprehensions of 
spiritual harmonies, what intuitions of the Divinity itself, must 
necessarily have rewarded their aspirations and contemplations ! 

But, leaving this aside and returning to the more ordinary 
and natural course of human experience, a lesson which im- 
presses itself is the law and promise of intellectual endeavor 
in the pursuit of truth ; the fact that we are born with fa- 
culties inherently made to seek the truth ; and sincerely seek- 
ing, to acquire it : homo capax veritatis. There is a natural re- 
ward of intellectual exercise, a growth, power, and fruition, as 
certain as that which comes from the exercise of the physical 
faculties, cheering us on to its contests and its delights- 
pleasure in the attempt, satisfaction in the outcome, if we be 
both sincere and persevering. 

Again, all of us, however humble, are called to the perform- 
ance of this search ; and all, however modest, can realize some 
of its sweets. Let, then, our homage be that of rational beings 
obsequium rationabile ; seeking in t all humility doctrine in de- 
votion, in practice, and perseverance. 


Lastly, we shall find that the distance between faith and 
scepticism, under all its names and shades, is only a step ; 
but what a chasm between ! the abyss between everything 
and naught ; between the whole order of existence, life, light, 
and love on the one hand, and primordial chaos, death, dark- 
ness, and despair on the other; between reason and unreason; 
between faith and its negation. And this step depends in part 
upon the honest}' of the will and the exercise of faculties divine- 
ly implanted in us, working from a native capacity of truth to 
a natural result of faith, knowledge, and possession. To deny 
it logically implies a negation not only of the Divinity, but of 
ourselves, our nature, and everything else besides. 

How wonderful, and yet how natural, are the effects of this 
willing search of truth; what horizons it opens up and spans; 
what fitnesses and coherencies it discloses ; how it confirms, 
comforts, and consoles ; and how it satisfies and reconciles the 
littlenesses we may know with the great things we conceive! 
And pursued to its complement and completion, how it brings 
home solace to the heart as well as conviction to the mind, 
rounding up every faculty, answering every need, and filling us 
with the certainty of faith, the ardor of love, the joy of antici- 
pated possession ! What more, O man ! wilt thou have in any 
order of thy devising ? And with what counsel readvise the 
Creator in " laying the foundation of things that are " ? 

What matter, then, the inadequacy, imperfectness, and in- 
definiteness of human apprehensions and capacities ? Poor glow- 
worms ! Are things less true, that we know not more of them 
than we do ; or less sure our knowledge that they are, because 
in the darkness we do not see all they are? Thankful in 
the wondrous gift that we do see, happy in the sight as it is 
given us to see ; assured that we shall see more as we strive ; 
rather should we exclaim, with the same faith which brought 
its sure reward : Domine ut videam Lord, that I may see ; 
Noverim te would that I may know thee more and more. 

Let us, then, use the gifts made unto us, instead of cavilling 
at their limitation and rejecting the testimony which they im- 
port. Let us employ the talents that we possess. Freely and 
confidently let us use and trust the sight by which we see and 
the mind by which we know; and through all the faculties 
which we have received let in the light, and seek the truth and 
deny it not. Seeking the truth and believing, we shall know 
the truth, and the truth shall make us free. 







HEN earth awoke in Spring-time and 

the leaves 
Came one by one upon the naked 

I said unto my heart, " Hush, and 

be still ; 
Winter hath fled, and lo ! a spirit 

A wondrous change." Now, when 

the Autumn grieves, 
And hushed is every woodland 

stream and rill, 

I marvel once again. The daffodil 
Has vanished, leaving death and wasted sheaves. 

The same high power that wrought the change of Spring 

Bids us behold this miracle. 'Tvvas Love 
That roused the world af, April's wakening, 

And Love through Autumn's sorrow still doth move. 
Yea, He who gave the earth its springtide breath, 
Gave also this the mystery of death. 





UR age has proved itself 
an adept in many things 
though coming centur- 
ies may prove it but a 
tyro but it does not seem 
credible that it could be sur- 
passed in its " way of saying 
things." It is not with us 
as it was with our fore- 
fathers when a heresy was to 
be refuted or a policy con- 
demned ; that out from their 
musty storehouse must come 
the ponderous tomes- of the 
ancients, and forthwith must 
/>' be summoned a convocation 
of scholars and sages to dis- 
cuss and write out at length 
the impeachment that the mul- 
titude were waiting to accept 
with respectful faith. In our 
day the rise or fall of a creed, 
the success or failure of a 
party religious, political, or social may hang on some face- 
tious phrase which has in an instant caught in crystallized form 
the thoughts and feelings of millions ; while the origin of the 
phrase may not so much as be asked about. It may have been 
evolved from the fertile brain of a news-reporter, or caught in 
a crowd from the lips of a street urchin. 

And so it has come to be in this language-loving age that 
the thing which "sounds well" need make no other effort to 
get a hearing from the multitude ; only let it be careful that it 
learn to manipulate the phraseology of the multitude cleverly 
and pleasingly, and its success is assured, its standard is planted, 
it gains followers that will swear themselves to rise or fall with 
its cause. 



Knowing with their highly developed intuitions this very 
actual fact peculiar to our time, the astuteness of the modern 
Theosophists in selecting the texts for the standard which they 
carry might receive the same invidious compliment that the 
Lord of the vineyard bestowed on the unjust steward for his 
wisdom in making friends of the mammon of iniquity. 

It would not do for the propagandist of the teachings of 
Theosophy to put before the eyes of the uninitiated world some 
of the astounding assertions that are made to those who, hav- 
ing accepted its first plausible theories, are lured to penetrate 
beyond into the inner circle of a teaching which may be termed 
the accumulated sophistry of all the ages. So it joins its 
voice in the paean that altruistic humanity is sending forth to- 
day, and sings loud and long the refrain of the hymn which 
has for its chorus " Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity," or 
" Truth, Light, and Liberation for Discouraged Humanity." The 
only conceivable object in life is to learn how to live. It picks 
up the cant and the threadbare platitudes with which socialis- 
tic madmen have fired the brain of the insensate multitude and 
clothes them anew in the flowery garb of rhetoric, and sets 
them up on high as messages of the deliverance it promises to 
the race. With high-sounding words and bombastic expressions 
it has paraphrased the sweet and simple language of the Ser- 
mon on the Mount into the grandiloquent language of the nine- 
teenth century altruist, and now proclaims that it has found, 
or resuscitated, a doctrine far greater, better, and more divine 
than that of the meek Nazarene, to whom it concedes an alle- 
giance and respect no greater than it does to one of its made- 
up Mahatmas. 


And yet it is winning followers. Steadily and confidently 
its advance guard is marching forward, and at every proclama- 
tion of its pretentious claims is gathering recruits to its stand- 
ard, promising anything, everything that may tempt onward 
aspiring humanity ; stealing from them the image of their Re- 
deemer and pretending to offer themselves as redeemers in his 
stead and redeemers not for their souls alone, but for their 
bodies and every ill which flesh is heir to. "They would give 
their very lives," they declare, " if life might serve as redemption 
for the poor, the outcast, and the vile. Into the blackness of 


darkness wherein humanity is submerged steps Theosophy once 
more with word of hope, nay, of certainty of cure. It explains 
the evils while it points the sure way of escape. With the 
glorious truth of Reincarnation the good of every effort up- 
ward stands unchallengeable, for every effort means one step 
upward on the ladder up which our race is climbing. Theoso- 
phy lifts the hopelessness from social conditions ; it shows the 
way to perfect self-sacrifice ; it teaches Reincarnation, Karma, 
Brotherhood. These are some of the reasons why you should 
be a Theosophist." 


And what would the practical acceptation of its Reincarna- 
tion, Karma, Brotherhood, mean to the world if Theosophy 
realized its ambitions and persuaded humanity into this modern 
fetichism ? There is not a vagary that the human mind can 
conceive but it is possible to capture other human minds by 
it. And so it is with this belief in reincarnation, conceived by 
the vague fancies of man's intellect when the race was in its 
primal stage and nature was so near to man that he endowed 
it with his own life, thinking that in the clod of earth and the 
brute that crouched at his feet, he recognized the same force 
that stirred within himself, and not realizing in his yet unen- 
lightened intellect the soul that made him master of creation. 
How could humanity to-day accept a doctrine from which the 
heart and mind revolts by every instinct of nature ? Think 
of the mother bending for the first time over the babe of her 
bosom, with her heart full of the sweet consciousness that it 
is all her own, bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh, and 
that its infant soul came as a fresh and pure breath of God, 
and then remembering that it is, after all, only the Ego 
of some soul that has been reborn again for the millionth 
millionth time, perhaps ; doomed once more to the travail of 
the flesh ; stained with the sins and scarred by the errors of 
numberless previous existences ; that though it is now clothed 
in all the exquisite beauty of infantine nature, it had once per- 
haps been encased in the form of a hideous monster or trodden 
under foot as a reptile of the earth. And this is one of the 
three truths with which Theosophy would redeem the world, and 
the greatest of the three! 

And Karma ? What meaning does that word hold to the 
Theosophist? a word which literally signifies action. It means 
the power through which he manipulates hidden forces in na- 


ture and works his way outside the veil that hides the invisible, 
and ventures into the unhallowed regions where man should 
tremble to tread unless the Angel of God lead him by the 
hand ; and sees visions and dreams dreams that sound, heal- 
thy, normal human nature shrinks back from aghast. 

These are the things which one finds within the veiled 


inner tabernacles of the temples of this " Hidden Wisdom/' 
when he has passed beyond the allurements of its outer courts. 
No wonder the faces of its high-priestesses and ministers grow 
dark and their eyes wear the look of those whose inner vision 
is troubled by sights that are unwelcome to human kind. 

Such are the pretensions of Theosophy, however. So much 
has it assumed and assimilated to itself of the teachings and 
principles of Christianity, that it might seem at first sight im- 
possible to find a flaw in the stronghold behind which it has 
entrenched itself. It has soared far above and away from the 
reach of the arrows of controversy by accepting everything and 
denying nothing, by having no dogmas to be attacked, no be- 
liefs to profess, no church to defend, no party to support. "It 


takes no sides in the endless quarrels that rend society, and 
embitter national, social, and personal life. It seeks to draw 
no man away from his religion, but rather impels him to seek 
in the depths of his own religion for the spiritual nourishment 
he needs."* Thus does it address itself to the uninitiated, thus 
does it make concessions to the liberalism of the day, and by 
such pretensions does it win adherents to its theories. So colos- 
sal is its belief in its own tremendous assertions that honest ar- 
gument retreats in scorn and leaves as unanswerable a spiritual 
egoism which is unimaginable to a practical mind. 

Most theories that are born or " reincarnated " into our 
modern world are, some time or other, put upon the witness 
stand and made to suffer the quizzing of a curious public. 
But Theosophy has so loftily pursued its way onward through 
the crowd, and has played so much the will-o'-the-wisp among 
the religions, that only those who have long since forsaken the 
beaten paths of common sense in their religious beliefs find 
time or pleasure to pursue its preternatural wanderings into 
the domain beyond the material world. 


Modern or reincarnated Theosophy, as it is taught to-day by 
the Theosophical Society, was born in New York in 1875. 
Previous to that time its disciples or its teachers were almost 
unknown to the Western world, or what is almost the same, 
were not talked about either in the press or lecture-hall. Its 
teaching had, of course, some secret followers among European 
nations the absurdly mystical society of the Rosicrucians in the 
seventeenth century were followers of this teaching but its un- 
popular practices and extraordinary beliefs could not find a com- 
fortable home within the pale of European civilization until the 
last quarter of this century, which has, perhaps, witnessed more 
incredible and widespread manifestations of the versatility of the 
human mind in its acceptance and rejection of religious beliefs 
than any century in the Christian era. However, in order to be 
presentable to the practical modern mind, it would not do to 
bring forward this " Wisdom Religion " in its unfamiliar and un- 
couth Eastern dress. It would not do to import in all his 
native excellences one of its veiled prophets from the valleys 
of Thibet. Its rebirth in Western form was realized through 
the medium of Madame Helena Blavatsky, who, though repul- 
sive to both the popular mind and the popular eye from her 

* Introduction to Theosophy. By Annie Besant. 



very unattractive personality and unlovely appearance, is de- 
clared by her followers the high-priestess of Theosophy, and 
described by them as one of " clean life, of open mind, a pure 
heart, an eager intellect, an unveiled spiritual perception, a 
brotherliness for all, a constant eye to the ideal of human 
progress and perfection." The devotion and zeal of her fol- 
lowers was, however, unable to shield her from the jibes of the 
popular, materialistic mind. The enterprising modern reporter 
found too good capital in her extraordinary manifestations of 
the spirit world to let her escape from his clutches. Through 


such a medium her philosophy, a strayling from the Orient, 
would never have thriven in the hardy atmosphere of Western 
civilization had not this unwieldy and ill-tempered Russian 
mystic found a successor on whom to drop the mantle of 
her esoteric wisdom ; one who had sufficient apprehension of 
the religious characteristics of our day to present her phil- 
osophy in a form that would be pleasing and welcome to the 
popular mind. Such a disciple did Mme. Blavatsky find in 
Mrs. Annie Besant " one of the most remarkable English- 
women of the apostolic type of this generation," some one has 
said of her. She who was called at the time of her conversion 
to Theosophy " the Saul of the materialistic platform " became 
the leader, and has continued to be the exponent, of a spiritual 
philosophy incomprehensible in its conceptions to a materialis- 
tic mind. 


The success of Theosophy, at least in our time, it does not 
seem too much to say, is so centred around this one woman 
that a study of her character and the peculiarity of her men- 
tal and spiritual gifts and tendencies may in itself be a suffi- 
cient index in tracing the causes which have led to the 
development of Theosophic philosophy a philosophy which has 
so leaped over the barriers of orthodox Christian belief that 
none of the ordinary methods of refutation of the latter seem 
able to compass it or explain it. 

Annie Besant is the living embodiment of that spirit which 
broods over the face of the non-Catholic world to-day. The 
history of her soul is an allegory of the birth, the develop- 
ment, and the maturity of nineteenth-century Protestantism. 

She once declared that "the deepest craving of her nature 
was a longing to serve as a ransom for the race." Her life 
may, indeed, prove a prophecy that will point the way to a 
world gone astray and wandering from the fold of Christ. The 
annals of religious biography do not contain a life-story more 
touching, more full of heart-penetrating pathos, than hers. 

She had a happy, healthy girlhood, spent in companionship 
with her kind in an ideal home in Devonshire, England. No 
morbid influences, no unhealthy associations either in childhood 
or youth, can be discovered as responsible for the development 
of her extraordinary tendencies towards occultism in her later 
life. She had a nature so religious, a mind so orthodox in its 
habits of thought, that those who knew her even in her days 


of professed atheism, said that "it was the religiousness of her 
irreligion that alone made the latter formidable." Her tem- 
perament, although versatile, seemed well balanced and nor- 
mal, there being blended in her nature the staidness of the 
British on her father's side and an Irish emotionalism inherited 
from her mother's side. 

The perversion of her nature from Christianity may not be 
accountable to any of the ordinary causes that first lead scep- 
tical minds away from orthodox faith. She followed no calm, 
logical course of reasoning in her progress from evangelical 
Protestantism to infidelity. She had none of the traits of the 
sceptic in her nature ; her mind and heart and soul were too 
wide and deep for irreligiousness to fetter them within its nar- 
row limits. There was not the pride of intellect in her which 
made her scorn to conform to the outward religious symbolism 
which she believed expressed an inward grace. She tried to 
find satisfaction, and she did find some pleasure, though it was 
short lived, in an adherence to and a practice of Anglicanism. 
Before she had been led on thus far, she had sifted out for 
herself the untenable teachings of her early evangelicanism from 
the writings of the Fathers, and wrote that "the contrast be- 
tween these and the doctrines of the primitive Christian Church 
would have driven me over to Rome had it not been for the 
proofs afforded by Pusey and his co-workers that the English 
Church might be Catholic, although non-Roman. But for them 
I should certainly have joined the Papal communion ; for, if 
the church of the early centuries be compared with that of 
Rome and Geneva, there is no doubt that Rome shows marks 
of primitive Christianity of which Geneva is entirely devoid." 
What comfort this anchorage to Pusey and his pseudo-Catholi- 
cism proved to her in the supreme moment before she took 
the final plunge into the blackness of unbelief and atheism is 
recounted in a sketch of her at that time. " There are few 
pages in contemporaneous annals," says the writer, " more 
touching, more simple, and more dramatic than those in which 
Mrs. Besant tells of her pilgrimage to Oxford to Dr. Pusey, to 
see whether, as a last forlorn hope, the eminent leader of the 
High-Church party might happily be able to save her from the 
abyss. She recounts the comfortless interview, and adds : 
1 Slowly and sadly I took my way back to the railway station, 
knowing that my last chance of escape had failed me.'"* 

They were rather natural than supernatural causes which 

* Would that her visit had been to Newman instead of to Pusey ! 


were obviously the occasion of this unhappy condition of 
her religious state. Out of loyalty to her church, and thinking 
that through it she might satisfy her aspirations to devote her 
life to the service of her Master and the poor whom he loved, 
she consented to become the wife of one of the ministers of that 
church, believing that in such a relation she would realize her 
religious dreams more fully. "She could not be the Bride of 
Heaven," as one of her biographers remarks laconically, and 
therefore she became the wife of Rev. Frank Besant. " If she 
had been a Catholic," this same writer declares, " she would 
have become a nun and spent the rest of her days in ecstatic 
devotion, finding all the consolation that worldly women find 
in husband and lover in the mystic figure of the Crucified." 

It seems that the mistake of her life was a proneness to 
invest human nature with the divinity of the Christian ideal as 
she conceived it, and towards which she herself aspired, and 
then, after having deified human nature, to find that her idols 
had feet of clay. She felt within herself the capacity for 
illimitable ambition towards the attainment of this ideal, and a 
burning desire to sacrifice herself and all things for it, and with 
the humility of a great soul could not conceive that she was 
singular among her fellows in the nobility of her purposes and 
aims ; that they were satisfied with a lower standard and she 
was not ; that the erroneousness of their interpretation of the 
Christian teaching was not manifest to their less spiritual and 
less truth-loving natures as it was to hers. 

The revolt of her intellect, heart, and soul against what 
was incapable of satisfying them came at last, worked out 
through a series of human experiences little short of a pro- 
longed moral martyrdom. 


Suppressing the almost uncontrollable aspirations within her 
for a spiritual food of which her narrow Protestantism was 
barren, she fettered herself with the duties entailed upon her 
by her position as wife of a vicar of a small Anglican commu- 
nity, and struggled along with secret doubt and craving for the 
light torturing her inmost soul. Down into the deepest depths 
of spiritual darkness and horror was her spirit led, with no 
hand stretched out to draw her back again to the Way, the 
Truth, and the Life. Like one to whom a stone is cast when 
hunger is gnawing at his vitals, they offered her the dry bones 
of their false doctrines to nourish her starving soul. 


Her physical strength at last broke under the mighty stress 
of her spirit in its vain struggles, and she was prostrated for 
weeks in helpless sickness caused by the suffering of brain and 
nerves for which no solace seemed to be had from human skill. 
When nature struggled back again, and rest and sleep came to 
her, she set herself to work once more in search of a way by 
which to refute and conquer the temptation to unbelief that 
was working such havoc in her soul. Hither and thither 
she went, reading, conversing, searching for proofs upon which 
to rebuild the basis of her faith, but came no nearer to the 
central point than before. She tried to disengage her mind 
from the ceaseless strife within her by occupying herself more 
and more with the external works of charity which she found 
at hand to do in her husband's parish. Once again her health 
gave way. During a visit to London she met an exponent of 
Theism who attracted her for awhile to that belief, which, how- 
ever, gave her only temporary satisfaction. This led her to the 
next step, the rejection of the beliefs of the Christian faith, 
"all but one," says her biographer. "Not all her reading of 
Theodore Parker and Francis Newman and Miss Cobbe had 
been able to rob her of her faith in the Deity of Christ. She 
clung to it all the more closely because it was the last, and to 
her the dearest of all. She at first shrank from beginning an 
inquiry the result of which might entail upon her, the wife of 
a clergyman, the necessity of repudiating all pretence of be- 
longing to the Christian Church. Hitherto her warfare had 
been in secret, her suffering solely mental. But if this last doc- 
trine were to go, * to the inner would be added the outer war- 
fare, and who could say how far this would carry me.' She 
shivered for a moment on the brink and then took the plunge."* 


Then came the time of her real crucifixion of spirit. She 
was given the choice between a life of professed hypocrisy by 
remaining a member of the church of her husband and follow- 
ing, externally at least, its formula and creed, or banishment 
from home and children and friends. Could she accept the 
latter, when to be even present at the administration of the 
" Holy Communion overcame her with a deadly sickness," so 
that she could not remain in the church? Though at this time 
but twenty-six, and inexperienced in any lines of professional 
work through which she might earn a respectable living for 

* William T. Stead in Review of Reviews, December, 1891. 





herself, she did 
not hesitate to 
face the world 
alone with her 
baby daughter, 
whom the law had 
permitted her the 
custody of on her 
separation from 
her husband. She 
took refuge with 
her mother, be- 
tween whom and 
herself was a deep 
and tender attach- 
ment ; but the 
former dying soon 
after this, she was 
left again alone, 
severed from all 
human ties, with 
a woman's heart full of a woman's yearning for trust and sym- 
pathy and love with her fellow-creatures ; seeking and finding 
no way through which to give expression to this yearning and 
to satisfy the aspirations of her nature. It was during this 
period of struggle 
against actual poverty, 
and even deprivation of 
the necessaries of ex- 
istence, that she learn- 
ed her first lessons in 
the Socialistic doctrine 
of which she afterwards 
became such a fierce 
exponent. The cause 
of humanity, as ex- 
pounded by Socialism, 
got into her he#d and 
affected her like new 
wine. From one phase 
of it to another she 
was hurried on, until 
an expressed advocacy ANNIE BESANT TO-DAY. 


of neo-Malthusian principles brought upon her a storm of pub- 
lic censure which thrust her again outside the pale of popular 
sympathy. She had got as far as Atheism, and had like- 
wise become associated with Charles Bradlaugh in the "sacred 
cause " of free thought, as a lecturer and also as a writer on the 
National Reformer. She had reached the farthermost limit of 
unbelief ; the last vestige of faith in the supernatural had been 
wrested from her. And yet, as she has since written of her- 
self, at this time she did not say "There is no God," but she 
felt that she herself was " without God." She could not con- 
ceive him as the being whom she had to accept as manifested 
in the doctrine and lives of those who had presented re- 
ligion to her. She could not pray to such a one, as she would 
not profess what her heart denied. But she said sadly of this 
loss of faith in prayer : " God fades gradually out of the daily 
life of those who never pray ; a God who is not a providence 
is a superfluity. When from the heavens do not smile a lis- 
tening Father it soon becomes an empty space, whence resounds 
no echo of man's cry." 

No wonder that a God-loving soul such as hers should be 
thrown back again, as with the force of desperation, into a be- 
lief in the supernatural which, though false and non-Christian 
in its character, yet promulgates a philosophy which to her 
seemed the full and sufficient answer to the materialism of the 
day from which her intellect so strongly reacted, and which 
teaches so zealously that love for her fellow-creature which 
burned so strongly in her own heart. 

In this new philosophy she seems to have reached the ulti- 
matum of all her aspirations. She has brought into what was 
nothing more than an esoteric system of belief, cultivated by a 
few students of Eastern occultism, a spirit that has developed 
in this system a life and a power which have produced, in a 
decade of years, results that at most stand as evidence of the 
natural tendency of the human heart towards belief in ' the 


It is, however, not because of the extraordinary gifts with 
which she seems to be endowed, according to the belief of her 
followers, in acting as a medium between them and the " Great 
Masters " whose teaching she imparts, that Annie Besant is to- 
day the leader of this altogether too widespread religion. It is 
because she has still innate within her the same desire to realize 


the ideal for which she sought in vain in those first days of 
her striving for the truth, and she has clothed the bare bones 
of the old Theosophic teaching, which is no more than Bud- 
dhism modernized, with the beauty of Christian truth and Chris- 
tian ideals. It is not from the indefinable and unimaginable 
spirits of the Theosophic heaven that she has learned those 
lofty sentiments regarding the welfare of the human race. It is 
because her life, as the life of every child of Adam who in 
the darkness of its earthly pilgrimage cries out for the light, 
has been touched by that " light that enlighteneth every man 
who cometh into the world." It is the Christian soul within her 
that speaks ; her ideals are but the reflections caught from the 
Christ ideal, her teachings but the borrowed sentiments of the 
Gospel truths. 

It would not have been possible for Annie Besant to have 
diverged so far from Christianity if she had learned the alpha- 
bet of its teachings more correctly in the beginning. What she 
knows and has experienced of it, seems to have been made 
up of a most incongruous mixture of Calvinistic and of Angli- 
can doctrines. She affirms that "the theory of popular and 
ecclesiastical Christianity (now being so rapidly outgrown) re- 
gards mankind as a race essentially corrupt, cursed at its fall by 
its incensed Creator, and thenceforth lying under the wrath of 
God. In order that some of this race may be saved, God be- 
comes incarnate, and, suffering in the place of man, redeems 
him from the consequences of the fall." 

It is easy to understand how the revulsion from such doc- 
trines as total depravity and its corollaries would so react upon 
such a nature as to bring her to the extreme view of the 
Theosophic teaching, which regards " every man as a potential 
Christ," that the " divine in man is an essential property, not an 
external gift." 

She goes on to argue that Theosophic teaching comes into 
conflict with Christianity, because " if man's heart be naturally 
corrupt, if that which is deepest in him be evil and not right- 
eous, if he turn naturally towards the bad, and can with diffi- 
culty only be turned towards the good, it seems reasonable to 
allure him to the distasteful good with promises of future hap- 
piness, and to scare him from fascinating bad with threats of 
future pain. Whereas, if man's nature be essentially noble, and 
even in its darkness seeks for light, and in its bondage yearns 
for liberty, then all this coaxing with heaven and threatening 
with hell becomes an irrelevant impertinence, for man's inner- 


most longing is then for purity and not for heavenly pleasure, 
his innermost shrinking is from foulness and not from hellish 
pain."* Herein has she defined the true Catholic doctrine, as in 
the former definition she has given the perverted one as for- 
mulated by Calvinism. " Well done, Luther," Father Hecker 
used to say, " well and consistently done ; when you have pro- 
claimed man totally depraved, you have properly made his reli- 
gion a Cain-like flight from the face of his Maker and his kin- 
dred by your doctrine of predestination." 

" Existence cannot be conceived otherwise than as good, 
without outraging the divine perfections of the Creator," Father 
Hecker wrote in his Aspirations of Nature. " To think of the 
essence of our being, or existence, as wholly corrupt or evil, 
or evil at all, is to make God the author of that which is 
contrary to his nature." Man is, and can but be, essentially 
good ; and the doctrine of essential or total depravity, taught 
by Protestantism, makes God the author of evil. 

"The corruption of human nature," says Bellarmine, "does 
not come from the want of any natural gift, or from the acces- 
sion of any evil quality, but simply from the loss of a super- 
natural gift on account of Adam's sin." All of which is the 
drawing out of the teaching affirmed as de fide by the Council 
of Trent, that the nature of man, body and soul, was not 
poisoned, corrupted, depraved ; but was simply changed from 
something better to something worse. " Secundum corpus et 
animam in deterius commutatum fuisse." Deprived, to be sure, 
of the gifts of original justice which were gratuitously super- 
added to man's nature by a generous Creator, and in no sense 
essential to it, so that in the fall man's nature was not left 
totally depraved, but essentially good. 

Oh ! the pity of it, that human souls so yearning for the 
truth and essence of Christianity should try and try in vain to 
slake their thirst at those streams from the fountain head which 
have been fouled by the taint of heresy, and that they should 
have drunk poison where they sought the waters of life ! 


Whatever is admirable in Theosophy can easily be paralleled 
by something more admirable in Christianity. In fact, its most 
attractive dress and its most winning ways are but the garb 
and teachings of the lowly Nazarene. 

In Mrs. Besant's definition of virtue the keynote of the 

* Theosophy and Christianity. By Annie Besant. 


Catholic spirit has been struck : " It is not a blind submission 
to an external law imposed upon man by an extra-cosmic 
Deity ; it is the glad unfolding of the inner life in conscious 
obedience to an internal impulse, which seeks expression in 
the external life." 

In the words of a Hindu, in his death agony, she thinks 
she has found the highest expression of heroic virtue : " Virtue 
is a service man owes himself ; and though there were no heaven 
nor any God to rule the world, it were not less the binding 
law of life. It is man's privilege to know the right and to follow 
it. Betray and persecute me, brother men ! Pour out your 
rage on me, O malignant devils ! Smile or watch my agony 
with cold disdain, ye blissful gods ! Earth, hell, heaven, com- 
bine your might to crush me ! I will still hold fast by this 

" There," she exclaims, " speaks the heroic soul ! and what 
need has such a soul of promise of happiness in heaven, since 
it seeks to do the right and not to enjoy ?" And has the 
Christian struck no higher note than this in spiritual heroism ? 

" O Deus, ego amo Te ; 
Nee amo Te ut salves me, 
Aut quia non amantem Te 
^Eterno punis igne. 

" Non ut in ccelo salves me, 
Aut ne aeternum damnes me, 
Nee praemii ullius spe, 
Sed sicut Tu amasti me." 

cried St. Francis Xavier; and in his cry he has uttered the 
deepest, truest sentiments of the Christian heart : " My God, I 
love thee ; not because I hope for heaven thereby, nor yet 
because who love thee not are lost eternally ; not for the sake 
of winning heaven, nor of escaping hell ; not for the hope of 
gaining aught, nor seeking a reward ; but as thyself has loved 
me, O ever-loving Lord ! " 


Theosophy tries to prove the antiquity of its moral and 
spiritual teaching, and to show that Christianity is but a new 
expression of what long antedated Christianity and was mani- 
fested in other religions as in Buddhism and Hinduism. 

It is but a fresh form of an old heresy, a new weapon that 

* Theosophy and Christianity. By Annie Besant. 


Satan has employed to work against the spreading of the 
kingdom of Christ and belief in his divinity. If the disciples 
of Buddha or of Krishna realized in their lives the same teach- 
ings which animate the Christian and lead him to heavenly 
things, it was not because of Buddha or of Krishna but because 
of Christ ! The Incarnation of the Son of God began in its 
effect not on Calvary but in the soul of Adam, and the 
merits of his Precious Blood belonged no less to the countless 
millions who lived before his coming than to those who stood 
beneath his cross. 

The Buddhist in his devotion to ideals of purity and self- 
sacrifice, the Hindu in his passion for heroism and suffering, 
were but the manifestations of the essential good in man's 
nature which was one day to be shown forth in full perfection 
in the Christian ideal. 

Theosophy has planted itself at the outposts, and as the 
fragments from the wreck of Christian beliefs work their way 
outside, it allures them within its exoteric temples with prom- 
ises of making them disciples, and who knows but in time 
Mahatmas, even the Great Teachers of its esoteric wisdom ? 


When it shall have led those who have sought refuge from 
Protestant Christianity through its devious ways ; when it shall 
have made them believe that they have passed through a 
series of re-births for myriads of years ; that they have reached 
a state beyond all desire; " have entered and passed, by the 
Path of Knowledge, to that lofty state wherein a soul serene 
in its own strength, calm in its own wisdom, has stilled every 
impulse of the senses, is absolutely master over every move- 
ment of the mind, dwelling within the nine-gated city of its 
abode, neither acting nor causing to act a state of isola- 
tion great in its power and its wisdom, great in its abso- 
lute detachment from all that is transitory, and ready to 
enter into Brahman ; when even beyond this the soul passes, 
by the Path of Devotion or of love, to the realization of 
Brotherhood, above the state of isolation, to that of renun- 
ciation wherein it has become even free from Karma free 
because it desires nothing save to serve, save to help, save 
to reach onward to union with its Lord, and outward to union 
with men." * Ah ! at the end of it all, note how the climax 
reaches again, though led by false and unfamiliar ways, to 

* Devotion and the Spiritual Life. By Annie Besant. 
VOL. LXV. 4 


nothing less and nothing more than that supreme aspiration of 
the human heart " union with its Lord " ; how naturally, how 
almost inadvertently, do the very terms and common expres- 
sions of the Christian lend themselves to voice the soul-yearning 
of the creature for the Creator, of union with him. Yes ; but 
not by the unnatural exercise of his faculties as taught by 
Theosophy, not by the wrenching from their places in the 
natural order of things the forces of nature to produce phe- 
nomena revolting to the normal state of man. 

From all this these perverted human souls will react, and 
return again to tread the Christian road to God, when the mes- 
sage of the world's salvation ET INCARNATUS EST ET HOMO 
FACTUS EST shall once more be accepted by them in the full 
sense that the Catholic Church alone accepts it ; and in which 
no creed, no church, no philosophy to-day accepts it ; that 
truth which means no less than the bridging over of the 
chasm between the Creator and the creature, the Infinite and 
the finite, the hypostatic union of the Divine with the human ; 
that union which had been in the view and purpose of God 
from all eternity, and to effect which the Incarnation would 
have taken place even had there been no fall of man, for 
Christ would have come to us as our Brother, even had he not 
come as our Redeemer. 

Against belief in this, and to pervert and blind and deafen 
man's consciousness of this, has Satan striven from the day 
when the scoffing Jew passed under the cross and mockingly 
bade Christ, if he be the Son of God, descend and save him- 
self, unto these days of polished heresies under whose high- 
sounding and pretentious praise of " the Christ " is no less hid- 
den the scoff of Satan at Him who came to destroy his reign 
over men's hearts and to therein establish his own kingdom. 

But surely the malice of Christ's enemy has aimed a blow 
more cutting than the buffet of the soldier's hand in the court 
of Annas, when he has used woman's heart and brain to con- 
ceive and propagate teachings which have as their conclusion 
only another affront to the august divinity of the Son of God, 
by presenting him merely as one among the leaders or founders 
or exponents of the " Hidden Wisdom," which was conceived 
as well by Krishna, Osiris, Confucius, or Buddha. Thus does 
it give expression to its blasphemy against the Son of God. 
Buddha reposing in his harem, and the hideous idol of the 
Hindu god, presents to the Theosophic mind objects as worthy 
of esteem as the majestic form of the thorn-crowned Man of 


Sorrows. Surely Satan has accomplished the last insult which 
in that day he failed to fling at Christ. He could not, so the 
Gospel story proves, turn the heart and hand of woman against 
Jesus from his cradle to his tomb. 

' Not she with traitorous kiss her Saviour stung, 
Not she denied him with unholy tongue ; 
She, when Apostles shrank, could danger brave- 
Last at his cross and earliest at his grave." 

52 UN PRTRE MANQU. [Oct., 



E kept his school in a large town in the County 
Waterford. His range of attainments was 
limited ; but what he knew he knew well, and 
could impart it to his pupils. He did his duty 
conscientiously by constant, unremitting care, and 
he emphasized his teachings by frequent appeals to the ferule. 
However, on one day in midsummer it would be clearly seen 
that all hostilities were suspended and a truce proclaimed. 
This one day in each year was eagerly looked forward to by 
the boys. The master would come in dressed in his Sunday 
suit, with a white rose in his button-hole, and a. smile a deep, 
broad, benevolent smile on his lips, which, to preserve his 
dignity, he would vainly try to conceal. No implement of 
torture was visible on that day ; and the lessons were repeated, 
not with the usual rigid formalism but in a perfunctory manner, 
ad tempus terendum. Twelve o'clock struck, the master struck 
the desk and cried : 

" Donovan, take the wheelbarrow and bring down Master 
Kevin's portmanteau from the station." 

Then there was anarchy. Forms were upset, desks over- 
turned, caps flung high as the rafters, and a yell, such as might 
be given by Comanches around the stake, broke from three hun- 
dred boys as they rushed pell-mell from the school. The master 
would make a feeble effort at restoring order, but his pride in 
his boy, coming home from Maynooth, stifled the habitual 
tyranny which brooked no disobedience nor disorder. In two 
long lines the boys, under the command of some natural leader, 
would be drawn up in front of the school. In half an hour the 
wheelbarrow and trunk would be rolled up the gravelled walk ; 
then the expected hero would appear. One tremendous salvo 
of cheers, and then a glorious holiday ! 

* There is no word in the English language to express the failure of a student who has 
just put his foot within the precincts of the sanctuary, and been rejected. Up to quite a 
recent period such an ill-fated youth was regarded by the Irish peasantry with a certain 
amount of scorn, not unmingled with superstition. Happily, larger ideas are being developed 
even on this subject ; and not many now believe that no good fortune can ever be the lot of 
him who has made the gravest initial mistake of his life. 

1897.] UN PRETRE MANQUE. 53 


There was, however, amongst these young lads one to whom 
the home-coming of the Maynooth student was of special 
interest. He was a fair-haired, delicate boy, with large, wistful 
blue eyes, that looked at you as if they saw something behind 
and beyond you. He was a bit of a dreamer, too ; and when 
the other lads were shouting at play, he went alone to some 
copse or thicket, and with a book, or more often without one, 
would sit and think, and look dreamily at floating clouds or 
running stream, and then, with a sigh, go back to the weary 
desk again. Now, he had one idol enshrined in the most sacred 
recesses of his heart, and that was Kevin O'Donnell. It is 
quite probable his worship commenced when he heard his 
sisters at home discussing the merits of this young student in 
that shy, half-affectionate, half-reverential manner in which 
Irish girls were wont to speak of candidates for the priesthood. 
And when he heard, around the winter fireside, stories of the 
intellectual prowess of his hero, in that exaggerated fashion 
which the imagination of the Irish people so much affects, he 
worshipped in secret this " Star of the South," and made 
desperate vows on sleepless nights to emulate and imitate him. 
What, then, was his delight when, on one of these glorious 
summer holidays, the tall, pale-faced student, " lean," like Dante, 
" from much thought," came and invited all his friends to the 
tea and music that were dispensed at the school-house on 
Sunday evenings ; and when he turned round and, placing his 
hand on the flaxen curl's of the boy, said : 

" And this little man must come too ; I insist on it." 
Oh ! these glorious summer evenings, when the long yellow 
streamers of the sun lit up the dingy school-house, and the 
master, no longer the Rhadamanthus of the ruler and rattan, 
but the magician and conjurer, drew the sweetest sounds from 
the old violin, and the girls, in their Sunday dresses, swept 
round in dizzy circles ; when the tea and lemonade, and 
such fairy cakes went round, and the hero, in his long black 
coat, came over and asked the child how he enjoyed him- 
self, and the boy thought it was heaven, or at least the vestibule 
and atrium thereof ! But even this fairy-land was nothing to 
the home-coming, when the great tall student lifted the 
sleepy boy on his shoulders, and wrapped him round against 
the night air with the folds of his great Maynooth cloak, that 
was clasped with brass chains that ran through lions' heads, 

54 UN PRTRE MANQU. [Oct., 

and took him out under the stars, and the warm summer air 
played around them ; and in a delicious half-dream they went 
home, and the child dreamt of fairy princesses and celestial 
music, and all was incense and adulation before his idol and 
prodigy. Ah ! the dreams of childhood. What a heaven they 
would make this world, if only children could speak, and if only 
their elders would listen ! 

So two or three years sped by, and then came a rude shock. 
For one day in the early summer, the day on which the stu- 
dents were expected home, and the boys were on the tiptoe 
of expectation for their glorious holiday, a quiet, almost inau- 
dible whisper went round that there was something wrong. 
The master came into school in his ordinary dress ; there was no 
rose in his button-hole ; he was quiet, painfully, pitifully quiet ; 
he looked aged, and there were a few wrinkles round his mouth 
never seen before. A feeling of awe crept over the faces of the 
boys. They feared to speak. The sight of the old man going 
around listlessly, without a trace of the old fury, touched them 
deeply. They would have preferred one of his furious explo- 
sions of passion. Once in the morning he lifted the rattan to 
a turbulent young ruffian, but, after swishing it in the air, he let 
it fall, like one paralyzed, to the ground, and then he broke 
the stick across his knees, and flung the fragments from the 
window. The boys could have cried for him. He dismissed 
them at twelve o'clock, and they dispersed without a cheer. 
What was it all ? Was Kevin dead ? 

By-and-by, in whispers around the hearth, he heard that 
Kevin was coming home no more. Some one whispered : " He 
was expelled "; but this supposition was rejected, angrily. " He 
would never be priested," said another. 


" No one knows. The professors won't tell." 

And some said they expected it all along ; " these great 
stars fall sometimes ; he was too proud and stuck-up, he wouldn't 
spake to the common people the ould neighbors." But in 
most hearts there was genuine regret, and the deepest sympathy 
for the poor father and mother, to whom this calamity meant 
the deepest disgrace. They would never lift their heads again. 
Often, for hours together, Kevin's mother would linger around 
the fireside, receiving such sympathy as only Irish hearts can 
give. Her moans sank deep into the soul of the listening 

" Sure I thought that next Sunday I would see my poor 

1897-] UN PR&TRE MANQUE, 55 

boy in vestments at the altar of God, and then I could die 
happy. Oh, wirra, wirra ! oh, Kevin ! Kevin ! what did you do ? 
what did you at all, at all? When he was a little weeshy fel- 
low he used to be playing at saying Mass ' Dominus vobis- 
cum,' and his little sisters used to be serving. Once his father 
beat him because he thought it wasn't right. And I said : 
' Let the boy alone, James ; sure you don't know what God has 
in store for him. Who knows but one day we'll be getting his 
blessing.' Oh, my God, thy will be done ! " 

" How do you know yet ? " the friends would say ; " perhaps 
he's only gone to Dublin, and may be home to-morrow." 

" Thank you kindly, ma'am, but no. Sure his father read 
the letter for me. * Good-by, father,' it said, ' good-by, mother ; 
you'll never see me again. But I've done nothing to dis- 
grace ye. Would father let me see his face once more ? 
I'll be passing by on the mail to-morrow on my way to 
America.' " 

"And did he go to see him?" 

" Oh, no ! he wouldn't. His heart was that black against 
his son he swore he should never see his face again." 

" Wisha, then," the women would say, " how proud he is ! 
What did the poor boy do ? I suppose he never made a mis- 
take himself, indeed ! " 

But the young girls kept silent. They had mutely taken 
down the idol from their shrine, or rather drawn the dark veil 
of pitying forgetfulness over it. A student refused orders was 
something too, terrible. The star had fallen in the sea. 

His little friend, however, was loyal to the heart's core. 
He knew that his hero had done no wrong. He was content 
to wait and see him justified. He would have given anything 
to have been able to say a parting word. If he had known 
Kevin was passing by, shrouded in shame, he would have made 
his way to the station and braved even the hissing engine, that 
was always such a terror to him, to touch the hand of his 
friend once more and assure him of his loyalty. He thought 
with tears in his eyes of the lonely figure crossing the dread 
Atlantic ; and his nurse was sure he was in for a fit of illness, 
for the boy moaned in his sleep, and there were tears on his 
cheeks at midnight. 

But from that day his son's name never passed his father's 
lips. He had passed in his own mind the cold, iron sentence : 
" Non ragionam di lor." 



The years sped on relentlessly. Never a word came from 
the exiled student. In a few months the heart-broken mother 
died. The great school passed into the hands of monks, 
and the master, in his old age, had to open a little school in 
the suburbs of the town. Families had been broken up and 
dispersed, and event after event had obliterated every vestige 
of the little tragedy, even to the names of the chief actors or 
sufferers. But in the heart of the little boy, Kevin O'Donnell's 
name was written in letters of fire and gold. His grateful mem- 
ory held fast its hero. Then he, too, had to go to college 
and for the priesthood. On his very entrance into his diocesan 
seminary he was asked his name and birthplace. When he 
mentioned the latter a young professor exclaimed : 

" Why, Kevin O'Donnell was from there ! " 

The boy nearly choked. A few weeks after, his heart in 
his mouth, he timidly approached the professor, and asked : 

" Did you know Kevin O'Donnell?" 

" Why, of course," said the priest ; u he was a class-fellow 
of mine." 

" What was was thought of him in Maynooth ? " 

" Why, that he was the cleverest, ablest, jolliest, dearest 
fellow that ever lived. You couldn't help loving him. He 
swept the two soluses in his logic year, led his class up to the 
second year's divinity, then fell away, but again came to the 
front easily in his fourth. We used to say that he ' thought 
in Greek.' ' 

" And why did he leave ? Why wasn't he ordained ? " 

" Ah ! there's the mystery ; and it is a clever man that could 
answer it. No one knows." 

They became great friends by reason of this common love 
for the disgraced student, and one evening in the early sum- 
mer the professor told the boy all he knew. He had an atten- 
tive listener. The conversation came around in this way. 
Something in the air, or the glance of the. sun, or some faint 
perfume of hyacinth or early rose, awoke remembrances in the 
mind of the boy, and he said, as they sat under some dwarfed 
elms : 

"This reminds me of Kevin and his holidays at home. The 
same summer evening, the same sunlight only a little faded 
to me the old school-room lighted up by the sunset, the little 
musical parties, the young ladies in their white dresses, my 

1 897.] UN PRETRE MANQUE. 57 

head swimming round as they danced by in polka and schot- 

"Ha!"said the professor. But, recovering himself, he 
said hastily : 

"Well, -go on! " 

" Oh, nothing more ! " said the boy ; " but my homeward 
rides on Kevin's shoulders, and the long folds of his cloak 
wrapped around me, and and how I worshipped him ! " 

There was a pause, the professor looking very solemn and 

"But, father," said the boy, "you never told me. How did 
it all happen ?" 

"This way," said the professor, shaking himself from his 
reverie. "You must know, at least you will know some time, 
that there is in Maynooth one day a day of general judgment, 
a 'Dies irae, dies ilia' before which the terrors of Jehosaphat, 
far away as they are, pale into utter insignificance. It is the 
day of the ' Order list ' or, in plainer language, it is the dread 
morning when those who are deemed worthy are called to Or- 
ders, and those who are deemed unworthy are rejected. It 
is a serious ordeal to all. Even the young logician, who is 
going to be called to tonsure only, looks with fearful uncer- 
tainty to his chances. It is always a stinging disgrace to be 
set aside or, in college slang, ' to be clipped.' But for 
the fourth year's divine, who is finishing his course, it is the 
last chance : and woe to him if he fails ! He goes out into the 
world with the brand of shame upon him, and men augur no 
good of his future. Now, our friend Kevin had been unmerci- 
fully ' clipped ' up to the last day. Why, we could not ascer- 
tain. He was clever, too clever ; he had no great faults of 
character ; he was a little careful, perhaps foppish, in his dress ; 
he affected a good deal of culture and politeness ; but, so far as 
we could see, and students are the best judges, there was noth- 
ing in his conduct or character to unfit him for the sacred of- 
fice. But we don't know. There are no mistakes made in that 
matter. Students who are unfit sometimes steal into the sanc- 
tuary, but really fit and worthy students are never rejected. 
There may be mistakes in selection ; there are none in rejection. 
Well, the fateful morning came. We were all praying for poor 
Kevin. The most impenetrable silence is kept by the profes- 
sors on this matter. Neither by word nor sign could we guess 
what chances he had ; and this added to our dread interest in 
him. In fact, nothing else was talked of but Kevin's chances ; 


and I remember how many and how diverse were the opinions 
entertained about them. The bell rang, and we all trooped into 
the Senior Prayer-Hall. We faced the altar three hundred 
and fifty anxious students, if I except the deacons and sub- 
deacons, who, with their books that is, their breviaries under 
their arms, looked jaunty enough. I was one of them, for I 
was ordained deacon the previous year, and I was certain of 
my call to priesthood ; but my heart was like lead. Kevin 
walked in with me. 

"' Cheer up, old man,' I said; 'I tell you it will be all 
right. Come sit near me.' His face was ashen, his hands 
cold and trembling. He picked up the end of his soutane, and 
began to open and close the buttons nervously. The superi- 
ors four deans, the vice-president, and president came in and 
took their places in the gallery behind us, and at the end of 
the hall. An awful silence filled the place. Then the presi- 
dent began, after a brief formula, to call out rapidly in Latin 
the names of those who were selected " ad primam tonsuram." 
He passed on to the porters, lectors, the acolytes, the exorcists. 
Then came the higher orders, and hearts beat anxiously. But 
this was rapidly over. Then came the solemn words: 'Ad 
Presbyteratum.' Poor Kevin dropped his soutane, and closed 
his hands tightly. My name was read out first in alphabetical 
order. Kevin's name should come in between the names O'Con- 
nor and Quinn. The president read rapidly down the list, 
called : 

Gulielmus O'Connor, Dunensis ; 
Matthaeus Quinn, Midensis ; 

and thus sentence was passed. Kevin was rejected ! I heard 
him start, and draw in his breath rapidly two or three times. 
I was afraid to look at him. The list was closed. The superiors 
departed, apparently heedless of the dread desolation they had 
caused ; for nothing is so remarkable in our colleges as the 
apparent utter indifference of professors and superiors to the 
feelings or interests of the students. I said ' apparent,' be- 
cause, as a matter of fact, the keenest interest is felt in every 
student from his entrance to his departure. He is not only 
constantly under surveillance, but he is spoken of, canvassed, 
his character, talents, habits, passed under survey by those 
grave, solemn men, who preserve, in their intercourse with the 
students, a sphinx-like silence and indifference, which to many 
is painful and inexplicable. Well, the ordeal was over ; and we 

1897-] UN PR&TRE MANQUE. 59 

rose to depart. Then Kevin turned round and looked at me. 
He smiled in a ghastly way, and said: 'This little tragedy is 
over.' I said nothing. Words would have been mockery 
under such a stunning blow. Nothing else was talked of in 
the house for the remaining days. There was infinite sym- 
pathy for poor Kevin, and even the superiors dropped the veil 
of reserve and spoke kindly to him. It is customary to ask 
some one of the superiors the cause of rejection. To keep 
away from them savors of pride. Kevin went to the vice- 
president, a kindly old man, and asked why he was deemed 
unfit for orders. The old priest placed his hands on Kevin's 
shoulders and said, through his tears : 

" Nothing in particular, my dear, but some general want of 
the ecclesiastical manner and spirit." 

"I haven't been a hypocrite," replied Kevin; "I wore my 
heart on my sleeve. Perhaps if " he said no more. 

The examinations were over. The day for the distribution 
of prizes came on. The bishops assembled in the prayer-hall. 
The list of prize-men was called. Kevin was first in theology, 
first in Scripture, second in ecclesiastical history, first in 
Hebrew. It was a ghastly farce. Kevin, of course, was not 
there. Later in the day a deputation of the students of the 
diocese waited on their bishop. It was a most unusual pro- 
ceeding. They asked the bishop to ordain Kevin, in spite of 
the adverse decision of the college authorities. They met under 
the president's apartments. The bishop, grave and dignified, 
listened with sympathy, and when their representations had 
been made, he said he would consult the president. It was a 
faint gleam of hope. They waited, Kevin in their midst, for 
three-quarters of an hour, hoping, despairing, anxious. The 
bishop came down. With infinite pity he looked at Kevin, 
and said : " I am sorry, Mr. O'Donnell, I can do nothing for 
you. I cannot contravene the will of the superiors." Then 
the last hope fled. Next day Kevin was on his way to 
America. That is all. You'll understand it better when you 
go to Maynooth." 

He did go in due time, and he understood the story better. 
Like a careful dramatist, he went over scene after scene in the 
college-life of Kevin. He found his desk, his cell; he sought 
out every tradition in the college concerning him ; and that 
college, completely sequestrated from the outer world as it is, 
is very rich in traditions, and tenacious of them. He stood in 
the wide porch under the president's apartments and pictured 


the scene of Kevin's final dismissal from the sacred ministry. 
And the first time he sat in the prayer-hall, at the calling of 
the Order list, although he himself was concerned, he forgot 
everything but the picture of his hero, unnerved, despairing, 
and saw his ghastly smile, and heard : " This little tragedy is 
over." Once or twice he ventured to ask one of the deans 
whether he had ever heard of Kevin O'Donnell, and what was 
the secret of his rejection. 

"Ah! yes, he knew him well. Clever, ambitious, rather 
worldly-minded. Why was he finally thought unfit for orders? 
Well, there were various opinions. But no one knew." 

It happened that one of the old men-servants knew Kevin 

" Mr. O'Donnell, of C ? A real gentleman. Wouldn't 

ask you to clean his boots without giving you half-a-crown. 
Heard he was a doctor, doing well ; was married, and had a 
large family." 

" You heard a lie," said the student, the strongest expres- 
sion he had ever used. But the thing rankled in his heart. 
Was his hero dethroned ? or was the veil drawn across the 
shrine ? No ; but he had seen the feet of clay, under the 
drapery of the beautiful statue. The Irish instinct cannot un- 
derstand a married hero. 


The years rolled by. Ah, those years, leaden-footed to the 
hot wishes of youth, how swiftly, with all their clouds and 
shadows, and all their misty, nimble radiances, they roll by 
and break and dissolve into airy nothings against the azure of 
eternity ! Our little hero-worshipper was a priest, and, after 
some years, was appointed temporarily to a curacy in his native 
parish. I am afraid he was sentimental, for he loved every 
stone and tree and bush in the neighborhood. He lived in the 
past. Here was the wall against which he had played ball 
the identical smooth stone, which he had to be so careful to 
pick out ; here was the rough crease, where they had played 
cricket ; here the little valleys where they rolled their marbles ; 
here the tiny trout-stream, where they had fished. How small 
it seems now ! What a broad, terrible river it was to the child 
of thirty years ago ! But he loved to linger most of all around 
the old school-house, to sit amongst the trees again, and to 
call up all the radiant dreams that float through the " moon- 
light of memory." Alas ! all, or nearly all, the companions of 

1897.] UN PRETRE MANQUE. 61 

his childhood had fallen or fled. The few that remained he 
interrogated often about the past. This, too, with them, was 
fading into a soft dream. Their children were around their 
knees, and life was terribly real to them. 

One night, again in the soft summer, he was suddenly called 
to the sick-bed of a dying woman. He hastily dressed and 
went. The doctor was before him, but reverently made way. 

" It will be slow, sir," he said, " and I must wait." 

The young priest performed his sacred duties to the dying 
woman, and then, out of sheer sympathy, he remained sitting 
by the fire, chatting with the husband of the patient. It ap- 
peared that the dispensary doctor was away on another call, 
and they had taken the liberty to call in this strange doctor, 
who had been only a few months in the country, and had 
taken Rock Cottage for a few years. He was a tall, angular 
man, his face almost concealed under a long, black beard, 
streaked with white. He was a silent man, it appeared, but 
very clever. The " head doctors " in Cork couldn't hold a 
candle to him. He would take no money. He was very good 
to the poor. His name was Dr. Everard. 

The young priest had seen him from time to time, but had 
never spoken to him. Perhaps his curiosity was piqued to know 
a little more of him ; perhaps he liked him for his kindness to 
the poor. At any rate, he would remain and walk home with 
him. Late in the summer night, or rather, early in the summer 
dawn, the doctor came out from the sick-room and asked for 
water to wash his hands. He started at seeing the young priest 
waiting ; and the latter passed into the sick woman, who, now 
relieved, looked pleased and thankful. He said a few kind words 
and came out quickly. The doctor was just swinging on his 
broad shoulders a heavy military cloak ; and the priest, lifting 
his eyes, saw the same old lions' heads and the brass chain clasps 
that he remembered so well in Kevin's cloak so many years ago. 

" Our roads lead in the same direction," said the priest. 
" May I accompany you ? " 

" Certainly," said the doctor. 

It was a lovely summer morning, dawn just breaking roseate 
and clear, preluding a warm day. The birds were up and alert, 
trying to get out all the day's programme of song and anthem 
before the dread heat should drive them to shelter and silence. 
The river rolled sluggishly along, thin and slow and underfed, 
for the mountains were dry and barren and the fruitful clouds 
were afar. No men were stirring. The shops were closely shut- 


tered ; but here and there a lamp, left lighted, looked sickly 
in the clear dawn-light. Their footsteps rang hollow with 
echoes along the street, and one or two dogs barked in muf- 
fled anger as the steps smote on their ears. They had been 
talking about many things, and the young priest had men- 
tioned casually that this was his native place. 

" And there's the very house I was born in." The doctor 
stopped, and looked curiously at the shuttered house, as if re- 
calling some memories. But he said nothing. At last they left 
the town ; and the priest, rambling on about his reminiscences, 
and the other listening attentively, they came at last opposite 
the old school-house, and by some spontaneous impulse they 
rested their arms on a rude gate and gazed towards it. Then 
the young priest broke out into his old rhapsody about the 
summer twilights, and the violin, and" the merry dances of 
the girls, and all those things round which, commonplace 
though they may be, memory flings a nimbus of light that 
spiritualizes and beautifies them. And then his own secret 
hero-worship for the great Kevin, and the ride on his shoul- 
ders home from the dance and the supper, and the great cloak 
that enveloped him 

" Just like yours, with the same brass clasps and chains, that 
jingled, oh ! such music in my memory." 

The doctor listened gravely and attentively; then asked: 

"And what became of this wonderful Kevin?" 

And he was told his history. And how the heart of one 
faithful friend yearned after him in his shame, and believed in 
him, and knew, by a secret but infallible instinct, that he was 
true and good and faithful, although thrust from the sanctu- 
ary in shame. 

" We may meet yet," continued the young priest ; " of course 
he could not remember me. But it was all sad, pitifully sad; 
and I am sure he had grave trials and difficulties to overcome. 
You know it is in moments of depression, rather than of exal- 
tation, that the great temptations come." 

" Good-night, or rather good-morning," said the doctor. 
"What did you say your hero's name was? Kevin I think " 

"Yes; Kevin O'Donnell," said the priest. 


A few weeks after the doctor disappeared, and Rock Cot- 
tage was closed again. Twelve months later the young priest 
was dining with his bishop, and the latter asked him : 

1897-] UN PR&TRE MANQUE. 63 

" Did you ever hear of a Kevin O'Donnell, from your 
town ? " 

" Yes, of course, my lord. He was a Maynooth student 
many years ago." 

"Well, here is a letter from him, from Florence, asking his 
exeat, in order that he may be ordained priest." 

A rush of tumultuous delight flushed the cheeks of the 
young priest, but he only said : " I knew 'twould come all right 
in the end." 

He went home. There was a letter on his desk. Florence 
was the post-mark. With trembling fingers he read : 

CERTOSA, FIRENZE, July 12, 187-. 

FRIEND AND CHILD : You have saved a soul ! And it is 
the soul of your early friend, Kevin. Embittered and disap- 
pointed, I left Ireland many years ago. Not one kindly word 
nor friendly grasp was with me in my farewell. I came back 
to Ireland, successful as to worldly affairs, but bitter and angry 
towards God and man. I had but one faith left to do good 
in a world where I had received naught but evil. Your faith 
in me has revived my faith in God. I see now that we are in 
his hands. If a little child could retain the memory of small 
kindnesses for thirty years, can we think that the great All- 
Father has forgotten ? You are puzzled ; you do not know me. 
Well, I am the doctor with the great cloak, who accompanied 
you from a sick-call some months ago. I did not know you. 
I had forgotten your name. But while you spoke, and showed 
me how great was your fidelity and love, my heart thawed out 
towards God and man. I left hurriedly and hastened here. I 
am, thank God, a professed Carthusian, and the orders denied 
me in Maynooth prayer-hall thirty years ago I shall receive 
in a few days. Farewell, and thank God for a gentle heart. 
You never know where its dews may fall, and bring to life the 
withered grass or the faded flower. 

Yours in Christ, KEVIN O'DONNELL, 

{late Dr. Everard.) 





THERE are two sides to this beautiful city which many know 
only as bright, sunny Paris ! The one I wish to show you, wfren 
once opened to our view, proves deeply interesting. 
I wonder whether one-half of the visitors to this 
cosmopolitan city ever stop to think of the misery 
and suffering which abound there ? Thank God ! 
much is done to alleviate it, and I wish to give you 
a glimpse at one of the many 
charities that abound here. 
There are a number to choose 
from, notwithstanding the pre- 
vailing idea that Paris 
is given over entirely 
to pleasure. Let me 
begin with the Hos- 
pitalite du Travail. 

It is said that in 
this city fifty or sixty 


1 897-] 


thousand individuals awake in the morning without knowing 
how they are to find food, nor where they are to sleep at night. 
Men and women flock here from the provinces, as well as from 
other countries and how soon their little all is spent ! Then 
follows despair. Day after day work is sought in vain, and 
many fall so low, especially the women, that nothing remains 
for them but the prison of St. Lazare. Wishing to help these 
poor creatures, some ladies conceived the idea of a home where 
all women who applied would 
be received, and allowed to 
remain, if well behaved, for 
three months, thus giving 
them time to recuperate their 

A subscription was raised, 
a house hired, and the good 
work put under the direction 
of the nuns of Notre Dame 
du Calvaire, an order of re- 
cent date founded by the 
Abb Bonhomme, at Gramat, 
in 1833. Many hundreds of 
outcasts come, either of their 
own accord or sent by the 
police, who daily find women 
in the streets completely over- v , 
come by hardship and fatigue. 
All receive a welcome from f 
the superior of the house at H| 
Auteuil, and there 
find a refuge until 
a place is secured 
for each, either as 
servant, shop-girl, or 
in whatever position 
it is thought the per- 
son in question can 
best fill. Five hun- 
dred is the usual 
number of inmates 
(not counting the 
nuns), and of these 
many have seen bet- 






ter days. Teachers form no small proportion of those who ap- 
ply for admittance, for they find it as difficult as any other class 
to get employment. Young girls who have passed the higher ex- 
aminations of the Hotel de Ville, and obtained their certificate, 
after trying in vain for pupils either in schools or families, are of- 
ten at last discouraged, and glad to find a shelter at the Hos- 
pitalite. All of the women are expected to work. Those able 
to sew are put in the work-rooms. But the greater number of 
those who come are good only for the roughest work. These 
are employed in the wash-house, and in a short time become 
capable laundresses. Linen is sent to this laundry from colleges, 
convent schools, and private families. This is one of the sources 
whence money is derived for the support of the house. A sub- 

1 8 9 7-] 



sidy from the minister of the interior, another from the pre- 
fecture of police, together with private contributions, help the 
Hospitality to provide nourishing food for its inmates. 

Upon entering the building you find on the right the wait- 
ing-room, communicating with the parlor. On the table is the 
book in which is registered the name, date of entrance, pro- 
fession, and age of each person who comes to live in the 
house. Every day this book is examined by an inspector sent 




from the prefec- 
ture of police. 
This formality is 
necessary, because 
the institution 
comes under the 
same heading as 
hotels, lodging- 
houses, etc. At 
first the Hospitalit^ 
was obliged to pay 
for a license, but 
it has long been 
exempt from that 
tax, as the city 
authorities soon 
realized the great 

service that it was rendering to the poorer population of Paris. 
On looking over the registry one sees that the greater part 
of those received are not Parisiennes. They, come from the 
provinces and from all parts of the world. Upon entering, the 
women are required, after giving their names, etc. (it frequently 
happens that they know only their "petit nom" and in many 
cases are surprised when asked for their family name, never 
having known one), to pass into an adjoining room where one 
perceives a strong smell of sulphur. Here every article is dis- 


1 397-] 



infected, and every new-comer obliged to take a bath. This 
is strongly objected to by many, but the rule is enforced. 

Four meals a day are always given. For breakfast, soup 
and bread are furnished ; for dinner, soup, meat, and vegetables ; 
bread is given at four o'clock in the afternoon, and for supper, 
soup and vegetables. The food is all well cooked and an 
abundance is given to each. 

, The dormitories are thoroughly comfortable, well ventilated, 
and spotlessly clean. In one of the dormitories are some small 
beds beside the larger ones. Often a woman applies for ad- 
mittance holding in her arms an infant. As the sister said to 
me, "We must have a place for the little ones, for frequently 
the mother comes to us direct from the Maternity Hospital, 
so feeble that she is unfit for work. We cannot turn such away." 

A touching precaution is taken. All of the women who are 
admitted are addressed as madame, and to the mothers who 



have no wedding-ring the superior gives a brass ring, thus 
assuring them respect among their comrades. 

Sister Antoine, the superior of the order, is a remarkably 
clever woman, and under her skilful direction the Hospitality 
has been awarded the prize "Audoud" by the French 
Academy. She is not satisfied with helping only the inmates 
of the house. Within the past three years she has organized 
two new works that she thinks will tend to raise the morals 
of the poorer class, one of them being " L'CEuvre du Travail a 
Domicile" which furnishes work to the mother of a family to 
be done in her own home, and for which she is paid more than 
double the price given by the large shops. The superior told 
me how the idea of this new " work " occurred to her. I trans- 
late her words as nearly as possible : 

" One day I by chance met a manufacturer of linens, 
from Armentieres, with whom I had dealt at times. He 
asked whether I wished for some work for my poor people, 
adding that he had just received an order from one of the 
large shops for twelve thousand towels. He could send them 
to me to be hemmed, if I cared to undertake it, for the 
same price he would pay elsewhere thirty-five centimes a 
dozen (seven cents). I had no time to think it over, so 
accepted the offer. The linen arrived; the lengths had to be 
measured off and cut. All this, which took time, was included 
in the price paid. But it was the dead season, so that when 
the poor women applied for work I could at least offer it to 
them, to take or leave as they saw fit, as, had they not accepted 
it, the hemming could have been done in the institution. I 
assure you I blushed when I told these poor creatures the 
small sum that I was authorized to pay them. But all of them 
said, ' Oh, ma soeur ! the few sous will at least buy milk for 
our little ones.' The thought came to me then, Why should 
not I become a ' commer^ant ' ? I wrote to several wholesale 
linen houses for samples of towelling, etc.; then visited various 
large shops and became acquainted with the prices of sheets, 
pillow-cases, aprons, etc. I found that by buying at wholesale 
prices in large quantities I could afford to sell the same goods 
at the market price, and pay the women for hemming from 
fourteen to twenty-four cents a dozen for towels, twenty-five 
cents for sheets, etc., thus doubling, and in some cases more 
than doubling, the pay given by the shops." 

And in this way originated L'CEuvre du Travail a Domi- 
cile, which has proved a great success. In addition to the 
shop at r Hospitality where one sees the linen piled up to the 



ceiling 'on all sides, a depot has been opened by the sis- 
ters in .the Rue des Saints-Peres, where samples are to be 
found, and prices given to buyers not wishing to go out to 
Auteuil. Large orders are taken for supplying colleges and 
hotels with household linen. At the end of the first year five 
hundred and thirty-three mothers of families had been given 
work that they could do at home. This Sister Antoine con- 
siders a very important point, as it enables them to look after 
their children, cook the meals, and keep their room in order, 
at the same time earning enough money to help them through 




the dead season, when 
it is almost impossible 
to find work elsewhere. 
It is not always sew- 
ing that is given. Many 
of the poor women are 
by trade " chair-men- 
ders " (reseating rush- 
bottom chairs) and 
some mattress-makers. 
So the hotels, colleges, 
indeed all the custom- 
ers of the laundry, have 

been asked to send any chairs or mattresses that require repair 
to the Hospitalite. The vans that take home the fresh linen bring 
back anything that is given them, and the poor women fetch them 
in turn to their own homes. I must add that great precaution is 
taken against infection. Everything which could carry microbes 
is thoroughly disinfected after leaving the women's hands. 

The third " oeuvre " that has been lately added is the 
" Maison de Travail" for men, known as the " Fondation Lau- 
bispin" A magnificent donation permitted the purchase of an 
adjoining piece of land, and subscriptions soon enabled Sister 
Antoine to open a carpenter's shop, where men without work 
find employment for the space of twenty days. They are paid 


two francs (forty cents) a day, and buy their food at a sort of 
food-depot connected with the "ceuvre," which is one of the 
largest and cleanest kitchens I have ever visited. The breakfast 
and dinner cost, the sister tells me, about eighteen cents a day. 
The men pay seven cents more for a coupon that entitles 
them to a bed in a neighboring lodging-house, where arrange- 
ments have been made to receive them. By the time their 
twenty days are up nearly every man has saved and put aside 
a small sum of money, and feels himself no longer a beggar. 
Their stay in the Maison de Travail has also given them the 
habit of work, and nearly all succeed in finding steady employ- 
ment. In 1893 eleven hundred and fifty-six men passed through 
the work-rooms. It takes them but a short time to learn to 
handle the tools, under the direction of a skilled workman. 
They make all kinds of kitchen furniture, also school-benches, 
pries-dieu, etc. During the first year the sale of articles made 
by the men and delivered to large shops brought in 72,539 
francs. The total expenditure, including salaries, the cost of 
material, and general expenses, amounted to 90,963 francs. 
This past year the deficit was not so great, but I am unable 
to quote the exact figures. 

In the women's Hospitalite, though a longer term is allowed 
than is granted to the men, it often happens that when an in- 
mate's three months are up she begs to remain longer, and 
exceptions to the rule are frequently made, in cases where the 
superior thinks a longer sojourn under her care would prove 
beneficial. But generally positions are found for those whose 
time is up, and the reverend mother sees them off with many 
parting words of advice. 

How many souls these good nuns save it is impossible to 
know, but they have every reason to feel that they accomplish 
much permanent benefit. A proof of this is the fact that rarely 
does one of their women fail to return from time to time to 
see the superior, and thus show appreciation of, and gratitude 
for, the help given them. 

Space compels me to leave other charities that I wish to 
speak of, but I long to bring to light in America the amount 
of thought and attention paid to the suffering poor in Paris, as 
I know that much ignorance exists on this point. Let us give 
credit where it is well deserved, and acknowledge that in other 
countries, as well as in our own, many people are making a 
study of the ways and means best calculated to relieve the 
misery that surrounds us ! 



Oxford, England. 

HE history of Shakespearean criticism begins with 
the literary career of the great dramatist ; for, 
from his first appearance as an author, con- 
temporary writers freely expressed their opinions 
about the man and about his work. Obviously, a 
playwright of his merit "whose deeds so took Eliza" could 
not long grace the English stage without winning critical at- 
tention as well as public applause. That men of his genius 
should quickly provoke criticism, both friendly and unfriendly, 
is not to be wondered at ; for there were other playwrights 
giants in those days who sought the highest honors, and, we 
may believe, heartily hated any successful rival. Along with ful- 
some praise have come down to us some of this jealous hatred, 
some unequivocal expressions of envy ; and thus we may account 
for these lines from the pen of Robert Greene written at the 
close of the sixteenth century and at the beginning of Shake- 
speare's dramatic career : " There is an upstart Crow, beautified 
with our feathers, that with his Tygers heart wrapt in a Players 
hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blanke 
verse as the best of you ; and being an absolute Johannes Fac- 
totum, is in his owne conceit the onely Shake-scene in a 
countrie." Here are choice arrows from the quiver of literary 
jealousy: "plagiarism," "sham," "presumption" and the one 
drawing the long bow is * none other than a rival play- 

But without a liberal interpretation of the term criticism, 
we cannot include under this term many early Shakespearean 
references ; for as a rule this early opinion is crude, at times 
offensively partial, and always superficial and incomplete. 
Shakespeare seems to have impressed contemporary minds as 
nature impressed the primitive man. In either case there was 
awe, wonder, and spontaneous expression of delight, but the 
critical faculty came not into play ; there was no insight, no 
analysis, no looking behind the veil for causes of delight or 


surprise. The wonderful magician called up a dead world 
and made it live and speak before their astonished eyes ; yet 
they caught not a glimpse of his wand, they could appreciate 
neither the artist nor his art. Like Miranda, they simply 
looked on and exclaimed : " O brave new world ! that hath such 
people in it." 

Some instances we will cite, as showing the feeble apprecia- 
tion of the great master in early times. In 1592 Henry 
Chettle combined personal and literary qualities of Shakespeare 
in the following profound observation : " My selfe have seen 
his demeanor no lesse civill than he exelent in the qualities he 
professes: divers of worship have reported his uprightness of 
dealing and his facetious grace in writing." Gabriel Harvey, 
six years later, made an observation equally valuable from a 
critical point of view: "The younger sort take much delight 
in Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis ; but his Lucrece, and his 
tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke, have it in them to 
please the wiser sort." Ab uno disce omnes. The same feeble 
note runs through Drayton and Weever and Marston and 
Meres ; they utter glittering generalities ; they say Shakespeare 
is wise or witty or honey-tongued or great, but they do not 
cite any proofs of his being so ; they give no reasons for the 
faith that is in them. It is difficult, therefore, to allow such a 
liberal interpretation of the term " criticism " as will embrace 
their crude estimates of the man and of his work; yet a part 
may fittingly find place here, as showing the attitude of the 
English mind toward Shakespeare at the rise of the seventeenth 
century, and as throwing some light on that vexed question 
why the great dramatist was for so long unappreciated by 
critics in his own country. 

For it is a strange though undeniable fact that from the 
date of the production of his plays to the time of Dryden fully 
half a century Shakespeare received no adequate appreciation 
from any critic, however much the public may have applauded 
during his life-time and during the half-century that immediately 
followed. The fault lay not so much with the public, for 
English audiences, as a rule, welcomed the plays of Shakespeare. 
It lay with the writers and savants who professed to sit in 
critical judgment on the literary productions of their time. 
How hopelessly inadequate their critical judgment was, becomes 
clear in the following opinions taken from their writings. 
Richard Barnfield in 1598, praising Spenser, Daniel, and Drayton, 
has this to say of Shakespeare : 


"And Shakespeare, thou whose honey-flowing Vaine 
Pleasing the world thy Praises doth obtain, 
Live ever you, at least in Fame live ever." 

In 1610, John Davies of Hereford composed the following 
lines, dedicating them to " our English Terence, Mr. Will 
Shakespeare " : 

" Thou hast no rayling, but a raigning wit : 
And honesty thou sow'st which others reap ; 
So to increase their stock which they do keepe." 

Just five years earlier, William Camden, in his " Remaines 
concerning Britaine," classifies William Shakespeare with 
Sidney, Daniel, Drayton, Jonson, Holland, Chapman, as "the 
most pregnant wits of these our times." Thomas Freeman 
wrote in 1614 a much-quoted passage concerning Master 
William Shakespeare : 

" Shakespeare, that nimble Mercury thy braine, 
Lulls many hundred Argus-eyes asleepe 
So fit, for so thou fashionest thy vaine, 
Virtue or vice the theame to thee all one is ; 
But to praise thee aright I want thy store : 
Then let thine owne works thine own worth upraise 
And help t* adorn thee with deserved Baies." 

In a preface signed by John Heminge and Henrie Condell, 
and affixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, is this 
bright observation, strange for the time : ' He (Shakespeare) 
was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expressor 
of it." Of the same date, 1623, and in the same edition, a re- 
markable poem by Ben Jonson appears, and heralds the dawn 
of criticism properly so-called. This poem is so refreshing as 
compared with the mass of contemporary critical verbiage that 
an extensive quotation will be easily pardoned : 

" Soul of the Age ! 

The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage ! 
My Shakespeare, rise ! I will not lodge thee by 
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye 
A little further, to make thee a roome : 
Thou art a Monument, without a tombe, 
And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live 
And we have wits to read and praise to give. 


For, if I thought my judgment were of yeeres, 

I should commit thee surely with thy peeres, 

And tell how fame thou didst our Lily outshine 

Or sporting Kid or Marlowes mighty line. 

And though thou hadst small Latine and lesse Greeke, 

From thence to honour thee I would not seeke 

For names ; but call forth thundring Aeschilus, 

Euripides, and Sophocles to us, 

Pavius, Aceius, him of Cordova dead, 

To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread 

And shake a Stage : Or, when thy Sockes were on, 

Leave thee alone, for the comparison 

Of all that insolent Greece, or haughtier Rome 

Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. 

Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe 

To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe. 

He was not of an age, but for all time. 

And all the Muses still were in their prime 

When like Apollo he came forth to warme 

Our ears, or like a Mercury to charme ! 

Nature herself was proud of his designs, 

And joy'd to weave the dressing of his lines ! 

Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit 

As since she will vouchsafe no other wit. 

Yet must I not give Nature all : thy Art, 

My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. 

For though the poets matter Nature be, 

His Art doth give the fashion. 

Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were 

To see thee in our waters yet appear, 

And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames 

That so did take Eliza and our James ! 

But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere 

Advanced, and made a Constellation there ! 

Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage 

Or influence, chide or cheer the drooping stage ; 

Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourned like night, 

And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light." 

In a choice bit of prose written two years later, Jonson 
pushes his critical inquiry still further : " Is it an honour to 
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he 
never blotted out a line ? My answer hathe beene, would he 


had blotted a thousand." Again : " He (Shakespeare) was in- 
deed honest, and of an open and free nature ; had an excel- 
lent Phantasie, brave notions, and gentle expressions ; were-in 
he glowed with that facility, that sometime it was necessary 
he should be stopped. His wit was in his owne power; would 
the rule of it had beene so too. But he redeemed his vices 
with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praysed 
than to be pardoned." Jonson could have given to posterity 
a better critical estimate than these lines contain ; but he has 
written enough to justify the claim that appreciation for the 
Sweet Bard was growing. It was a step in advance to recog- 
nize Shakespeare's art ; it was a further step to see that 
Shakespeare was not for his own age but for all time ; then, 
too, an acknowledgment of his superiority over all classical 
predecessors whether Greek or Roman, along with an admis- 
sion that he had vices as well as virtues, plainly indicates the 
working of the critical faculty, however inadequate and incom- 
plete the results as yet attained may be. Obviously, Jonson 
caught the real outline of his towering grandeur amid the 
mists and shadows which concealed him from other critical 

Milton follows Jonson with his meed of praise, and his 
Epitaph on the "admirable Dramaticke Poet " is valuable in 
this .connection, as showing how poorly Shakespeare was esti- 
mated in the period now under consideration. "The leaves of 
thy unvalued Booke," is a sad commentary on the immediate 
heirs of Shakespeare's literary wealth. But they might defend 
themselves in the style of Cicero : Culpa non est nostra sed tem- 
porum. Yet Milton realized that Shakespeare " had built him- 
self a lasting monument," " that kings would wish to die for 
such a Tombe," and, moreover, he pays as high compliment to 
the facility of the poet whose " easy numbers flow to the shame 
of slow-endeavoring Art," as he does to the natural grace of 
" Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, warbling wildly his 
native woodnotes." 

Like Milton, Sir John Suckling (1642) subscribes to the 
opinion that Shakespeare wrote with wonderful ease : 

" The sweat of learned Jonson's brain 
And gentle Shakespeare's easier strain 
A hackney coach conveys you to." 

Here, the contrast between Jonson's laboring art and Shake- 


speare's easy warbling is emphasized. Doubtless the audience 
often helped the critic to decide : the houses drawn by the 
lumbering classical plays of Jonson must have been small, 
and the critic naturally sought for the cause ! In his time 
Shirley notices the waning popularity of Shakespeare: "many 
used to come to enjoy his mirth, but he hath few friends 
lately." His statement harmonizes with Milton's observation 
concerning "thy unvalued Booke." In a poem prefixed to the 
first edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, Denham is disposed to 
rank the art of Fletcher above that of Shakespeare : " In 
Shakespeare one could easily see where Nature ended and 
where Art began; but Fletcher's Art mixed with Nature 'like 
the elements ' and one could not be distinguished from the 
other." In 1647 Sir George Buck gushes forth : 

" Let Shakespeare, Chapman and applauded Ben 
Weare the eternall merit of their pen." 

His preference is still for Fletcher, and James Howell, another" 
critic, his contemporary, shares the same opinion. At our dis- 
tant day, when Beaumont' and Fletcher are seldom opened 
save by savants, the preferences of Buck and Howell are diffi- 
cult to understand. Birkenhead had a like preference : 

" Brave Shakespeare flowed, yet had his Ebbings too, 
Often above himselfe, sometimes below, 
But Fletcher ever kept the golden mean." 

A redeeming note is found in Samuel Sheppard's beautiful 
lyric on Shakespeare, part of which may be quoted : 

"Thou wert truly Priest Elect, 
Chosen darling to the Muses nine, 
Such a Trophey to erect 
By thy wit and skill Divine. 

" Where thy honored bones do lie 
(As Statius once to Maro's urne) 
Thither every year will I 
Slowly tread, and sadly mourn." 

Sir Ashton Cokaine (1660) asks Honeyman "to lessen the 
loss of Shakespeare's death by thy successful Pen and fortun- 
ate fantasie " ! Posterity is not aware that Honeyman succeeded 
to any appreciable extent. More critical than Cokaine, Fleck- 


noe discriminates between Jonson, Shakespeare, and Fletcher : 
" Shakespeare excelled in a natural vein, Fletcher in wit, and 
Jonson in gravity. Comparing Jonson with Shakespeare, 
you shall see the difference between Nature and Art ; and 
with Fletcher, the difference between Wit and Judgment." 
Still more substantial and savoring of the modern critical 
spirit are the views expressed by Margret Cavendish, 1664. In 
her "sociable letters to the Dutchess of Newcastle'* she made 
frequent incursions into the field of dramatic literature, and 
her observations on Shakespeare are worth recording, for as a 
critical estimate they are superior to anything yet produced, 
and as a critic their author is a worthy precursor of John 
Dryden. The following letter (No. 26) contains in part her 
appreciation of the distinguished author : 

" I wonder how that person you mention in your letter 
could either have the conscience or the confidence to dispraise 
Shakespeare's plays, as to say they were made up onely with 
clowns, fools, watchmen, and the like ; but to answer that per- 
son, though Shakespeare's wit will answer for himself, I say, 
that it seems by his judging, or censuring, he understands not 
playes, or wit ; for to express properly, rightly, usually, and 
naturally a clown's or fool's humor, expressions, phrases, garbs, 
manners, actions, words, and course of life, are as witty, wise, 
judicious, ingenious, and observing, as to write and express the 
phrases, actions, garbs, manners, and course of life, of kings and 
princes. It declares a greater wit, to express and deliver to 
posterity, the extravagances of madness, the subtility of knaves, 
the ignorance of clowns, and the simplicity of naturals or the 
craft of feigned fools, than to express regularities, plain honesty, 
courtly garbs, or sensible discourses, for 'tis harder to express 
nonsense than sense, and ordinary conversations, than that 
which is unusual; and 'tis harder, and requires more wit to 
express a jester, than a grave statesman ; yet Shakespeare did 
not want wit to express to the life all sorts of persons, of what 
quality, possession, degree, breeding or birth soever ; nor did 
he want wit to express the divers and different humors, or 
natures, or several passions in mankind ; and so well he hath 
expressed in his plays all sorts of persons, as one would think 
he had been transformed into every one of those persons he 
hath described ; and as sometimes one would think he was 
really the clown or jester he feigns, so one would think he 
was also the king and privy councillor ; also one would think 
he was the coward and the most valiant ; for example, Falstaff 


or Caesar. Antonio and Brutus did not speak better to the 
people than he (Shakespeare) feigned them. One would think 
he had been a woman, for who could describe Cleopatra bet- 
ter, or Nan Page or Mrs. Ford or Quickly, Doll Fearsheet ? 
And so on for the others. Shakespeare had a clear judgment, 
a quick wit, a spreading fancy, a subtile observation, a deep 
apprehension, and a most eloquent elocution ; truly he was a 
natural orator as well as a natural poet. Unlike lawyers who 
can talk eloquently on one subject and on none other, Shake- 
speare rather wanted subjects for his wit and eloquence to 
work on, for which he was forced to take some of his plots 
out of history, where he only took the bare designs, the wit 
and language being all his own." 

So much for the scope and character of early Shakespearean 
criticism. Not all has been adduced here, but enough is quoted 
in illustration of the first half-century ; and from these extracts 
one may learn how feeble and unpromising were the origins of 
that appreciation which began with Greene and Chettle and 
struggled for existence during the following fifty years. It 
seemed as if Shakespeare's work was doomed to oblivion. The 
seed buried in the soil gave no promise of life. The winter of 
Puritanism was over the land, and Art fled from his icy em- 
brace. Church ahd school and stage became bleak and deso- 
late. The voices of music and of song were changed to an 
agony of lamentation, 

" Like a wind that shrills 

All night in a waste land where no one comes 
Or hath come since the making of the world." 

But the winter, however long and cold, finally gave place to 
spring. The drama blossomed once more. English audiences 
wept again over the misfortunes of Desdemona and laughed at 
the follies of Falstaff. There was a Renaissance Shakespeare 
appeared again, to remain, let us hope for ever, the pride and 
glory of the English stage. For his reappearance the English 
world is indebted, most of all, to John Dryden. 







*T the age of seventeen I found myself a regular 
attendant at an Independent, or Congregational, 
chapel in Manchester. I did not know why I 
was a member of that congregation ; in fact, I 
had never reflected. I had always been brought 
up an attendant at a dissenting place of worship, though I had 
occasionally gone to the Church of England. My father's rela- 
tions were all Baptists, my mother was brought up a Unitarian, 
but somehow the family as a rule attended an Independent 
chapel. For aught I knew, I belonged to the true religion ; I 
had, however, to learn why I was " Nonconformist." 

I believed the Bible to be the word of God, and read it 
diligently every night with Scott and Henry's Commentary, in 
which I often saw quotations from the Fathers, St. Augustine, 
St. Jerome, and others ; but I knew nothing about the Fathers, 
and took their opinion for what it was worth. 

I attended chapel regularly, listening attentively to the minis- 
ter, the Rev. Mr. Griffin, who was a clever speaker, and I should 
say a fairly well-read man. I was actively engaged in the Sun- 
day-school, and had charge of the upper class, consisting of 
young men, who would sometimes ask puzzling questions. I had, 
therefore, carefully to read up and prepare my Bible lesson 
every week. 

I had also charge of the congregational library and large 
tract cupboard, where the distributers came to change their 
tracts every Sunday. I was myself also a tract-distributer and 
had a regular district, where I made the acquaintance of the 
different families. I remember I used to call at one house where 
they were Catholics, who used to bang the door in my face 
and exclaim, " Be off ! We want none of your rubbish here ! " 
After that I would push the weekly tract under the door, and 


hope and pray for these poor benighted souls. I learned after- 
wards that these people had taken an interest in my salvation, 
and had expected my conversion, though theirs was certainly a 
queer way of showing it. 

In my district I also found a young man in the last stage 
of consumption, bed-ridden so long that his bones had worn 
through his skin. I saw that he could not last long. Accord- 
ingly I called upon one of the deacons, who was known for his 
conduct of a prayer-meeting, and was considered a really pious 
man, asking him to come and help the sick youth to die well; 
but he replied that he did not believe in attending death-beds, 
for as a man lived so would he die. So, sore at heart, I called 
again and again, to see and try to comfort the poor dying 
youth and his sorrowing mother, telling her to call me any 
hour, day or night, when she thought he was going. At an 
early hour one morning, according to agreement, she threw 
some small pebbles at my window, and I got up and went to 
visit the dying youth. But what could I do, who had never 
seen any one die in my life? The youth was breathing hard, 
still conscious, but unable to attend to the reading of the 
Scriptures or to prayer. What was to be done ? Well, to tell 
you the truth, after exhorting him to take courage and trust 
in his Saviour, I stood and watched him dying like a poor ani- 
mal, saying afterwards to myself : " Surely, there must be a 
better religion and one supplying more help at the hour of 

I had not then read the account of the death of Martin 
Luther's mother, who, when she saw her last end near, asked 
her son to fetch the priest that she might make her confession, 
receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, and be anointed, 
that her sins might be forgiven her, according to St. James 
v. 14. In reply to which Martin said : " I thought, mother, 
that we had done away with all that long ago." It is nar- 
rated that his mother answered: "Yes, the new religion may 
be very well to live by, but the old one is the best for the 
hour of death." 

Thus it came about that this death-bed scene of the young 
man made an impression on me, just imperceptibly, shaking 
my confidence in the religion in which I had been brought up. 

It was about this time that I asked to be admitted as a 
regular member of the church, and was for the first time 
baptized. I was then about twenty-one. It is, however, worthy 
of remark that the minister, who baptized me, though he pub- 


licly poured the water upon my head and said the words, " I 
baptize thee, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and 
of the Holy Ghost," added his own words : " Now, remember, 
I have not done anything to your soul ; I have only done 
what our Lord commanded as an external act for admitting 
you into church-membership," thereby implying that he did 
not believe baptism to be a sacrament, of which our Lord had 
said, " Except a man be born again of water and of the Holy 
Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven " ; or as when 
again, sending his apostles and their successors to preach until 
the consummation of the world, he also said, " He that be- 
lieveth and is baptized shall be saved." 

So I went away with a confused idea of that last command 
which our Lord had given to his apostles. 

Amongst other books, I came across one called The Spiri- 
tual Combat, an ascetic treatise on the conduct of the soul in 
her conflict with the world, the flesh, and the devil. Here, to 
my surprise, I found this holy warfare reduced to a real 
science ; things that had puzzled my mind, questions about the 
conduct of the soul, were all treated of and handled as by one 
who understood the science of salvation. I 'used to read pas- 
sages of this book at our prayer-meetings, without mentioning 
the author or the title of the book. 

At length came the question, not why was I a member of 
a Congregational chapel, but why was I Protestant ? I wished 
to be an honest Protestant. Accordingly I spoke to my 
brother, who was a Catholic and with whom I had often 
argued, endeavoring to show him that the Catholic religion 
was simply a religion of poetry, music, and painting, sculpture 
and architecture, having nothing in it but what the devil or 
the world might supply, and probably had supplied. 

I asked him to lend me a book which stated the doctrines 
of his church plainly and clearly, my purpose being that I 
might know against what I was protesting and thus become a 
sincere Protestant, D'Aubign's History of the Protestant Refor- 
mation having sufficiently shown the folly and the wickedness 
of popery. He accordingly lent me Mllner's End of Contro- 
versy, and, with much prayer for light, I began seriously to 
put down in a book I kept in my pocket all that I could see 
against popery, and, to be honest, all that I thought in its 
favor. But I clung to my Bible, and I imagined I was follow- 
ing the teaching of the Bible when searching for texts to con- 
firm me in the religion in which I had been brought up. 


When, however, I came to look seriously into the question, I 
found that almost all Protestants followed tradition, and not 
Scripture alone : I had received the Bible on tradition ; I 
had kept Sunday instead of the Bible Sabbath on tradition ; I 
had believed in infant baptism, without a single text in support 
of it, on tradition ; and also held the manner of baptizing by 
pouring or sprinkling (although the Scripture seemed in favor 
of immersion), on tradition. I had rejected the anointing 
with oil for the forgiveness of sin prescribed by St. James as 
a Christian duty, still on tradition. 

Thus, in the end, when I came carefully to look at the 
question, I found that parents brought up their children in 
their own creed, and according to the tradition of their sect. 
The Baptist taught his children not to be baptized until they 
had arrived at an age to understand what they were doing ; 
the Unitarian told his that Jesus Christ was not God, but 
only a divine man ; all confirming their doctrines by reference 
to the Bible. 

What was I to do ? The Anglican assured me that his 
doctrine was according to the Bible ; the Methodist taught me 
that his view was quite scriptural, and the Swedenborgian, that 
his were the only people who understood the Scripture pro- 

Here, then, I saw a great difficulty, for unless I understood 
the Scripture rightly how was I to know that I had the word 
of .God ; but where was I to find a trustworthy authority for 
the true interpretation of the Bible ? Where was I to find a 
correct translation of Scripture? I saw that there were various 
translations Trinitarian, Unitarian, Lutheran, and even Catholic. 
In .my own family, besides my parents, who had been brought 
up in different religions, one brother was an Independent, 
another a Swedenborgian, another a Catholic, and my sister a 
member of the Church of England. Was I to read Scrip- 
ture with my mother or my father, with my sister or my three 
brothers, all differing very widely ? 

There was nothing for it but prayer, and, though I did not 
know it then, my Catholic brother was not only praying for 
me himself, but had got hundreds of his fellow-Catholics to pray 
for me. 

At last I saw clearly that I had been cheated into suppos- 
ing the written word of God, the Bible by itself, was a suffi- 
cient guide, and I felt convinced that our Lord, who came on 
earth to teach truth till the end of time, must have provided 


some means by which his truth should continue to be taught, 
as clearly and as certainly as if he himself spoke. 

This simplified the question. I had not to take upon my- 
self to try to understand the true meaning of Scripture, but 
to find that body of men whom our Lord sent to teach. He 
did not send them to distribute Bibles but to teach, saying : 
"He that heareth you heareth me." " Going, therefore, teach 
all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of 
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." And calling together his 
apostles, he sent them to teach " all things whatsoever he hajl 
commanded," and added, " Behold I am with you all days, even 
to the consummation of the world " (Matt, xxviii.) 

I saw then that the path of safety and of truth was to be 
found only in a living, speaking, visible teaching body of men 
sent by Christ, with whom alone our Lord promised to remain ; 
not anybody, but those only coming down by direct mission 
and authority from men chosen, and as he had himself been 
sent by the Father (John xx. 21). 

These were to teach, not as the scribes and pharisees, by 
arguing and wrangling, but with authority, like to Christ 
himself (Matt. vii. 29). 

Evidently there must be such a body of teachers in the 
world, because our Lord had said : " I am with you always to 
the consummation of the world." Now, I found that the ancient 
Catholic Church was the only church that actually professed 
to teach with such dogmatic authority ; the only church that 
everywhere taught the same meaning of Scripture ; the only 
church that had come down from the time of the apostles ; 
and so I began to think that this might be the true way to 
learn what to believe and what to do to save my soul. 

I was assured from history that though in the beginning, 
when there was no New Testament written and the Old was 
very difficult to get at, such a teaching church did really exist, 
it had overlaid the doctrine of truth and had failed long ago. 

It was, however, quite clear that if the body of teachers 
sent by Christ, having a regular organization, such as he made 
it, had failed, then the promises of Christ must have failed 
also ; which is impossible. 

And now, having advanced so far, I had to contend with 
my " Bible Christian " friends, who asserted that the Church of 
Christ consisted of those souls who believed in Jesus and whose 
outward life bore testimony that they were his disciples. This 
theory at first sight appeared very plausible, and calculated to 


relieve one of a thousand difficulties, leaving each one to follow 
his own ideas, believing himself to be enlightened and guided 
by God. But in such a case, I asked, who is to teach with 
authority and who is to be the guardian of truth as revealed 
by Jesus Christ ? How am I to know for certain what our 
Lord taught to his apostles, which he commanded them to 
teach until the consummation of the world (Matt, xxviii. 20). 

This theory of a purely spiritual church, without teachers, 
having none of the authority that the apostles and their suc- 
cessors were to have, was certainly not the church theory by 
which St. Paul speaks when he writes to Timothy, saying: 
" Stir up the gift that is within thee by the imposition of 
my hands : preach the word, be instant in season and out of 
season ; reprove, exhort, rebuke in all patience and doctrine ; 
for there shall come a time when they will not ' t endure sound 
doctrine; let no man despise thy youth" (I. Tim. iv. 12). 

And we find, in reading the history of the early church, 
these visible teachers, the bishops, had authority and taught like 
our Lord ; because the promise was with them that they should 
be guided by the Holy Ghost. 

Here my friends opened out another question. " What," 
they asked, "was a bishop, and what were his duties and how 
was he made a bishop ? " But these questions were not for me 
to answer. I had to find a church which I had learned 
historically was sent by Christ, who was God, and having found 
that body of men, that organization call it by what name you 
will it was from that church I was to learn the whole teach- 
ing of Christ ; she alone could tell me who were her ministers, 
she alone could stand forth and forbid false teachers, because 
that was her office. 

When I came to read the history of heresies, I saw that, 
but for the protection and preservation of truth by the Catholic 
Church, all the doctrines of Christianity would have been lost 
long ago, especially my much valued, my much revered Bible. 

Thus I began to look with reverence on the church against 
which I had so long fought. 


At the age of twenty-one, then, after fighting vigorously 
against what I regarded as popish errors, I found myself read- 
ing and studying the question, What Rule of Faith was safe 


and reasonable to follow ? I had seen that the Protestant rule 
of deciding for yourself what doctrines were true was neither 
safe nor reasonable, because those who thus acted indepen- 
dently came to every possible variety of creed. 

Up to this time I had always held it as certain that the 
Bible and the Bible only, with such help as I could get from 
others as fallible as myself, was the right rule of faith ; and 
when I came to consider the Catholic Church as possibly the 
true Teacher, sent by Christ, I said to myself: "If I should 
ever become a Catholic, I shall always stick to my Bible, and 
no one shall prevent me reading the word of God "; repeating 
my favorite words : 

" Holy Bible, book divine, 
Precious treasure, thou art mine, for ever mine." 

This was still my sheet-anchor the Bible and the meaning 
that seemed to me right. 

When, however, I came to look seriously at it, and ask my- 
self the question, Whence did I get my Bible, which I read daily 
with so much devotion and reverence ? Where was my guaran- 
tee that I had the right copy of the Sacred Scripture? Here 
was quite new ground for me: Was my text the very word 
of God? The Old Testament, originally written in Hebrew, 
had been lost and rewritten by Esdras, and this copy had again 
been translated into Greek by seventy learned scholars. As for 
the New Testament, some of it was originally written in Syro- 
Chaldaic and Greek, and probably the Acts of the Apostles 
was written in Latin, and the originals of these were most of 
them lost or the MSS. doubtful, and these had been translated 
and retranslated, revised and corrected again and again, during 
eighteen hundred years, copied and recopied with interpolations. 
What security had I that I had got in my English translation 
the pure word of God ? 

How was I to be sure that I had all the books of Scripture? 
In some old copies of the Scriptures, still to be found in old 
country churches, there is at the end what was called apocryphal 
writings, and these were accepted by the Catholic Church as 
inspired, and rejected by the publishers of the Protestant 

How, then, was I to be certain which was the inspired word 
of God, and which was the correct translation ? 

During all these eighteen hundred years who had watched 


over and guarded this Holy Bible of mine ? To my surprise, I 
learned that this had been done by the Catholic Church alone. 
" Surely," I said to myself, " those old monks were not such 
bad fellows after all," though I had always been taught that 
they were an idle lot of ignorant people. 

But here was evidence of two things their great love for 
the Bible and their wonderful plodding industry in multiplying 
copies of the word of God. 

The English edition which I had was published by " the 
authority of his dread Majesty King James," and was translated 
by the Reformers, and altered here and there to make it fit in 
with the new religion. Still I clung to my Bible. But here 
arose another difficulty: How was I sure that I understood the 
text according to the mind of the writer guided by the Holy 
Ghost, even supposing I had a faultless translation? And un- 
til I did, I had not the pure, unadulterated word of God ; be- 
sides, there were so many texts which I had, with others, 
passed over and left aside as having nothing to do with me or 
my salvation ; such, for example, as : "I give unto thee the 
keys of the Kingdom of Heaven." " Whatsoever thou shalt 
bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou 
shalt loose upon earth shall be loosed in heaven.". "There is 
a sin that is not unto death, and there is a sin that is unto 
death." " Receive ye the Holy Ghost : whose sins you shall 
remit, they are remitted ; whose sins you shall retain, they are 

Thus text after text which I had read so often now stood 
before me asking to be understood. In the Acts of the Apos- 
tles we read that when Philip overtook the eunuch reading the 
prophets in his chariot, he asked him, " Understandest thou 
what thou readest ? " who replied, "How should I unless some 
one show me." 

I found myself, after reading the Scripture, in somewhat 
the same position as the eunuch, feeling that I too required a 
teacher in the study of Holy Writ. 

Of course I had been brought up a thorough-going opponent 
of the Visible Church idea, and had no idea of a living, speak- 
ing, teaching church. My idea was, that each congregation was 
a church in itself, and that all such different churches, what- 
ever their creed, constituted Christianity ; that there were good 
and bad in all the different churches, and that none was infal- 
lible. But this did not help me at all. I wanted to know for 
certain what I was to believe as true beyond a doubt, and what 


I was to do to save my soul. I was sure that Jesus Christ 
came on earth to teach me these things, and I was now anxious 
to learn all that he had taught. 

I had really nothing to go by but history. I had learned 
to be afraid of interpreting the Bible for myself ; so I took 
the history as given in the Gospels, and there we learn that 
Christ sent a body of men, an organization which he called 
his church, giving them power to teach truth with such pre- 
cision that whoever heard them heard him, and with power also 
to forgive sin. This body of teachers I had to find. 

I could not find this in the Anglican Church, because it did 
not profess to teach with authority that is, with dogmatic cer- 
tainty as the infallible teacher sent by Christ ; and, moreover, 
I saw that the bishops and the clergy of the Anglican Church, 
far from teaching with any kind of certainty, differed amongst 
themselves upon the most important doctrines, and that the 
members of that church chose which minister they would sit 
under, somewhat like the dissenters, who, according to their 
own desires, heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears 
(II. Tim. iv. 3), and who I knew, when they wanted a minister, 
had men sent for inspection to see if they liked their doctrine 
and preaching. 

It was not, therefore, ritual that brought me into the 
church, but a sincere desire to know the truth taught by Jesus 
Christ when upon earth. You may, therefore, imagine my con- 
fusion when I went to Mass for the first time ! I had not 
been trained to ceremonies and music. My whole feelings 
rebelled against it all, and I began to think of retreat. But 
unto whom should I go ? Here was the church sent by Jesus 
Christ, and I could only say, in the words of St. Peter when 
our Lord asked his apostles if they would go back : " Lord, 
unto whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." 
To go back was impossible, for there was nowhere to go. 
There was nothing for it but to go on, and I must at that time 
have realized what Mr. Gladstone since then said of the church: 
" Our Redeemer founded upon earth a visible and perma- 
nent society, cohering, and intended always to cohere, by means 
not only of a common profession of faith, but also of common 
and public ordinances, which by their outward form constituted 
and sealed the visible union of all believers ; while by the in- 
ward spiritual grace attached to them, they were also destined 
to regenerate man in Christ and to build them up in him. 

" If a society founded by Christ, does not this imply the 


foundation of a government? If ordinances of grace were 
established, did they not require to be entrusted to the hands 
of persons constituting that government for their permanent 
conservation ? " 

And every day since then, when for a moment I looked 
back, I have been studying and admiring the wonderful unity 
of the teaching of the Catholic Church, bringing peace to mind 
and heart. 

This is the one wonderful miracle placed daily before the 
eyes of the outside world : that in all ages and all places 
wherever there is a Catholic priest, he invariably teaches the 
same truth as every other priest or bishop in the world, no 
matter to what nation he may belong or what language he 
may use. No flaw can be found in the authority and doctrine 
of the church which is thus perfectly one. 

By this all men may know that Christ, her divine Founder, 
was sent by the Eternal Father (John xvii. 21). 

These, then> are some of the reasons why I sought admis- 
sion into the Catholic Church, of which it is said " And the 
Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved." 


On seeing John Mulvany's portrait of the Irish patriot, now in the possession 
of Dr. Thomas Addis Emmet. 


EE ! how the lightning flashes from his eye, 
And hark ! the rolling thunder of his tone. 
There there he stands, defiant and alone, 
Fronting his fate and unafraid to die ! 
Behind him Life's enchanted pathways lie, 
Before the noose the cap the fall the groan- 
Death's bitter agony the spirit flown, 
To pass, perchance, unwept, without a sigh ! 

Say, doth he shirk his destiny forlorn ? 

Hath Terror claimed a heart subdued and awed, 
Or bade a quiver steal across those lips ? 

See, how he wings the arrows of his scorn ! 
See, how he smites the tyrant's ermined fraud 
With words that crash like volley-thundering ships ! 

NOTE. Mr. John Mulvany, the artist who painted the large historical picture of " Sheri- 
dan's Ride," has recently produced for the writer a portrait of Robert Emmet which in all 
probability will be accepted in the future as the most truthful representation of Emmet's gen- 
eral appearance now to be obtained. This portrait is made from a study of the death-mask 
and from a combination of Comerford's and Petrie's sketch. This plan has been undertaken in 
the past by others, but each effort heretofore proved unsatisfactory and was abandoned. The 
artist has followed chiefly Petrie's sketch, as it indicated the most character. The expression 
exhibited by it was undoubtedly caught by Petrie at the moment while Emmet had been 
speaking, and in one of the pauses when the judge is insinuating that he had made his terms 
with the French for his own personal advantage. The supreme degree of contempt which 
Robert Emmet felt for the course pursued in conducting the trial, which was but a libel on 
justice, and his righteous indignation at the charge made by the judge, is shown in the 

It is true that the expression is not one which would be selected as a prominent feature in 
the likeness of a friend. But this represents a special incident in an historical scene which 
will be held ever dear in the memory of the Irish people ; moreover, Mr. Emmet was not only 
vindicating himself at this moment, but also the action of the Irish people themselves, who 
were in sympathy with his cause, and from this stand-point the likeness will probably be ac- 


The above picture of ROBERT EMMET, by Mulvany, has been copied in the History of 
the Emmet Family, and is described by Dr. Thomas Addis Emmet in the words of the note on 
the opposite page. 




*UR attention has just been called to an article in 
the Dublin Review on the expedition sent to 
Ireland in 1798 by the French Republic. We 
opened it in the expectation of finding a tem- 
perate dissertation on the system which then 
governed the relations of France to other countries. We can- 
not call it a policy, any more than we can call the irruptions 
of the barbarians a policy. It was a system of aggression, born 
of necessity and pursued without respect for the past, without 
thought for the future. We had hoped to find in the article 
some instructive suggestion concerning this particular instance 
of the universal assault on the monarchies of Europe instruc- 
tive in the special circumstances of Ireland. We have nothing 
of the kind. We have, instead, a fragmentary account of Hum- 
bert's descent at Killala Bay in August, an allusion to the de- 
scent on the English coast by " the second legion of Franks" 
in February, 1797, the entrance of a French fleet into Bantry 
Bay on the coast of Ireland in the previous December, the 
second appearance of a few French ships in Killala Bay in 
October, and the expedition in the same month which was 
defeated off Lough Swilly. This last is interesting because 
Wolfe Tone, the founder of the United Irishmen, was taken 
prisoner while fighting desperately on board the flag-ship 

W r e have in the article nineteen pages of matter purporting 
to be the essence of six works the first published in 1800, the 
last the republished Autobiography of Tone. The meaning of 
the insurrection could be gathered from the last-named book, 
as the origin and hopes of the United Irishmen are there fully 
stated ; but the writer in the Dublin Review brushes them away 
as of no moment in comparison with his own theory that the 
insurrection was an insensate revolt of shoeless, ignorant, and 
ferocious peasants of hideous aspect, fomented by the Direc- 
tory of the French Republic. 

^-Dublin Review, July. 



We say nothing just now concerning the justice of a rising 
against the government of Ireland at that time. We can only 
express astonishment that an article calculated to cause national 
exasperation should appear in a review founded to assert Irish 
and Catholic claims. We deprecate efforts to perpetuate the 
old hostility between the people of Ireland and of England. 
Whatever may be said against Mr. Gladstone's policy of Home 
Rule as a conception of the relations between the countries, it 
cannot be denied that he succeeded in conciliating the vast 
majority of the Irish people. It has been said that the Irish 
lack gall to make oppression bitter ; no matter how they are 
treated, they will only clamor a little or whine, in which moods 
enough of the " stick " can always secure silence, or, in case of 
any real danger, a sop of some kind may be thrown to them 
until the next period for the stick. 

This is not our interpretation of the moods of ministers. 
The word " stick " has been insolently used in the English press 
and on the platform ; men highly thought of in Ireland, and by 
personal friends out of Ireland, have been libelled in the Eng- 
lish papers, without regard to decency, because they espoused 
the interests of their country ; the comic journals have exhibited 
Irishmen in their cartoons as gorillas armed for assassination, 
and the whole press has held them up time and again as men- 
dicants begging for what brave men would have taken or died 
in the attempt to take. It would be a mistake to suppose this 
scorn was reserved for the poorer classes or the disloyal classes. 
No class in Ireland was safe from the malignity of the scribe 
who ate this bread of infamy, or the limner who spread his 
meaningless caricature on a page of Punch, or Judy, or the 
Tomahawk, or some evangelical paper more funny than the 
comic journals. We wish Irish gentlemen who are now flattered 
as the garrison to remember how, in their young days, they 
were described as fortune-hunters of swaggering gait, brutal eyes 
and brazen forehead, haunting English watering-places. The 
poor imbecile Costigan or the truculent ruffian Barry Lyndon 
represents one or other of Mr. Thackeray's types of the well- 
born Irishman. Now, it is in the interest of these Protestant 
gentlemen that the great Catholic review, the Dublin, holds up 
the poor peasants who joined Humbert as filthy savages, the 
predecessors in manners, means, and intelligence of the Parlia- 
mentary Party. In a word, the article from beginning to end 


is a covert attack on the policy inaugurated in the Disestablish- 
ment Act, intended to be expressed in the Land Code beginning 
with the great act of 1870, and which we think would have 
been a security for the empire if it had been completed by the 
passage of the Home-Rule Bill. 

We see no reason for the article as it stands. As we have 
hinted, there could have been written a valuable paper exam- 
ining the action of the French Directory in a country circum- 
stanced as Ireland then was, with a Catholic population inclined 
to be loyal if it had any encouragement ; a numerous body of 
Presbyterians alert, almost unbelieving, sharp and enterprising, 
determined to rebel ; an Established Church whose members 
were strangely divided between theoretical traitors and loyalists 
secured by bribes theoretical traitors to-day who would be 
practical loyalists to-morrow for a consideration, while handy- 
dandy the practical loyalists would embrace the theoretical trea- 
son in their turn. Of course we have nothing of this ; nothing 
but a partial, distorted, and almost unintelligible jotting down 
of selections from prejudiced authorities of the events in a 
campaign which of itself has no lesson to teach a campaign 
barely above a marauding expedition. Newspaper correspon- 
dence made to order is severe history when compared with the 
review of matters given in this article. 


Yet, we doubt, is there anywhere to be found more valua- 
ble material for a chapter in the philosophy of history than the 
rebellion of 1798. If rulers sow the wind, they must expect to 
reap the whirlwind. No phenomenon of society is without a 
cause, and if we find a disturbance it must have had its source 
in men's passions, in unalterable conditions of their nature. At 
this time of day we do not value even an accurate account of 
events a century old, unless the events give us some guide to 
the perplexities of the present. The marching of the King of 
France and his twenty thousand men is as profitable a perform- 
ance in the development of society as the invasion of Humbert 
in our essayist's hands, and quite as exact history. We regret 
to open the old story. The seven centuries of wrong was be- 
coming a phrase, practical men had become tired of it ; the 
younger men were beginning to relegate the old cruelties to 
the adornment of a tale, the fierce conflicts were, in the better 
day, to serve no purpose but that of a theme for the poet, the 
playwright, or the novelist. In Ireland, as a part of the em- 


pire, they would serve as a subtle reminiscence of her nationality, 
like the songs of Scotland, and, like them, an influence of at- 
tachment to the power that so far respected the national senti- 
ment. It is astonishing to find how little knowledge or talent 
is needed to injure a great work of any kind. A child can 
blow up a powder magazine in a beleaguered city, a Dublin 
reviewer defeat the policy of the greatest statesman. 


We presume the writer of -the article is a Catholic, for no 
Protestant would select a Catholic organ in which to ventilate 
his contempt for the poor peasants who told Humbert that 
they came " to fight for God and the Blessed Virgin " ; no Protest- 
ant would venture to say in such a publication that they fought 
" with the crucifix at their head," and that their " chief object 
was the extirpation of heretics." We ourselves fail to see the 
iniquity of Catholics claiming the protection of Our Lady if 
they think they are fighting for a good cause. It is not neces- 
sary now to maintain that the cause in question was a good 
one we may offer considerations before we are done to show 
that the " peasants " might have reasonably thought they were 
fighting for a good cause but the point is that Irish peasants 
in 1798 had as good a right to rush to death with the name of 
our Blessed Lady on their lips as Irish gentlemen in the 
Great Civil War of 1641-53, and as those who fought against 
the Protestant League of Europe, headed by the Prince of 
Orange, in 1689-91. The fact that the Pope was a member 
of the Protestant League does not affect the matter. We 
respectfully submit that Lord Lucan, Sir Neal O'Neil, Lord 
Mountcashel, and the other gentlemen who fought for Holy 
Church were as good Catholics as His Holiness the Pope, as 
good Catholics as the Crusaders, to whom the name of our 
Blessed Lady was a prayer and inspiration, as good Catholics 
as Simon de Montfort and Don John of Austria, who in their 
need found her the Help of Christians. 

We speak in this manner because it is obvious that the 
writer in the Dublin Review has tried, in a small way, to 
play the role of Mr. James Anthony Froude. Froude in 
his effort to excite American prejudice against the Irish 
cause spoke from Protestant platforms and under Protest- 
ant auspices. He was clearly within his rights in doing 
so. We have no objection to fair discussion ; anything that 
knowledge fairly presented would have enabled Mr. Froude to 
VOL. LXV. 7 


urge against the hopes of the Irish people should command 
attention. We think he was unfair, that his authorities were 
selected, that his extracts were garbled ; but he did not attack 
the stronghold from within, he was not in charge of the de- 
fences, he did not betray the garrison. It may be thought 
good policy for the Dublin Review to heap contumely on the 
peasants of 1798, the predecessors of the Land League peas- 
ants, of the Plan-of-Campaign peasants, and, by rhetorical im- 
plication, of the entire National party. The filthy savages who 
robbed and murdered all the loyalists that fell into their hands 
in the short term of success that Humbert enjoyed, acted ac- 
cording to their Irish nature ; the same that shoots landlords 
from behind hedges, drowns bailiffs in bog-holes, intimidates 
foreigners entering into possession of evicted holdings, stones 
the police when breaking up a public meeting, refuses to pay 
exorbitant rents, and is guilty of the incredible wickedness of 
lodging originating notices* in the Court of Land Commission. 
We fear that Mr. Gladstone was mistaken when he denied that 
the Irish had received a double dose of original sin. 


Nothing else, to our mind, can account for the fact that 
Irish influence guarded the interests of English Catholics with 
unswerving fidelity and zeal during the entire of the present 
century. When the cowardly Shrewsbury showed his loyalty to 
the Ecclesiastical Titles Act by insulting the most beloved of 
the Irish prelates, Irish members of Parliament were working 
to secure the rights of English Catholics to a share or an 
equivalent in the educational, charitable, and social endowment 
of their country. When the father of the present Duke of 
Norfolk could not find a seat in England, he was elected one 
of the members for the most national of Irish cities. When 
Lord Robert Montagu was hunted from an English constitu- 
ency because he became a Catholic, Mr. Butt, an Irish Protest- 
ant, representing the noble liberality of his Catholic followers, se- 
cured his election for an Irish county. To express our belief in 
the inheritance of the double dose of original sin in the shortest 
form we say that English Catholics were emancipated by Irish 
sacrifices as fully as were the Irish themselves, although they did 
what they could to defeat the broad scheme which O'Connell 

* The originating notice is the first proceeding either by landlord or tenant to have a fair 
rent fixed. We do not hear that the landlord is condemned for trying to have the rent 


maintained to be the least concession that could be* accepted. 
We owe to the intrigues of English Catholics that the religious 
bodies are illegal societies, that a bequest or devise for Masses 
for the dead is a popish and superstitious use, and that but 
for O'Connell the paltry measure of emancipation the English 
Catholics wanted would be the insidious and gratuitous slavery 
of a state-appointed episcopate without an endowment. We 
could understand these English Catholics agreeing that the 
bishops should be appointed, say by Palmerston, the friend of 
Italian revolutionists, or by Russell, the author of the Ecclesias- 
tical Titles Act, if a state endowment had been secured to 
them. A price would then have been paid by a Protestant 
nation for the sinister services of Catholic bishops, but the 
gratuitous betrayal of their flocks was, we think, an excessive 
demand on those English shepherds of the people. Yet it 
would be compensated for if the few Catholic peers could once 
more take their place in the House of Lords doubtless in 
order that a few of them might rebel with more authority 
against a dogma of the church. We should like to know what 
the writer of this article thinks of the appearance and manners, 
the hopes and aspirations of the Gordon rioters who sacked 
London in 1780 because there was a possibility of some little 
repeal of Catholic disabilities? Does this writer think that such 
a repeal sprang from the liberality of his own countrymen, or 
from some dread of the Irish Volunteers? He refers to the 
expedition in which Napper Tandy bore a part, that of the 
single ship Anacreon, to which the desperate Irishman had 
committed his fortunes and those of the exiled friends with 
him, sick of the imbecility and fraud of the Directory's coun- 
sels ; does he not think that his English predecessors owed some 
emancipation to the menacing motto affixed to his guns by the 
same Napper Tandy as they galloped through the streets of 
Dublin in 1779? We think these same guns and their motto 
fluttered them in their dove-cotes of the Castle ; and talk about 
them crossed the Channel, so that even a Dublin reviewer of 
the future inherited some citizenship owing to their suggestive- 


We care nothing about this writer's misrepresentations of 
the campaign. As an Englishman he can hardly relish the 
Races of Castlebar ; what we object to is the view he tries to 
present that there were no grievances under which the Irish 


Catholics suffered, that those Mayo peasants joined the French 
in order to enjoy the license of their savage disposition uncon- 
trolled, and that the present movement in Ireland, in its two 
branches of social and political, is a recrudescence of the old 
madness. We have the testimony of an Irish Protestant gen- 
tleman* to the fact that at the time of the Gordon riots the 
Catholic clergy of Ireland possessed unlimited influence over 
their people, and were at the same time " cheerfully submis- 
sive " to the laws, penal though they were. If a change took 
place in the attitude of the clergy and the people, or if the 
first lost their influence upon the people in the succeeding 
years, there must have been a cause. We are not justifying 
the submission of the clergy and people under the penal laws ; 
we are only stating a fact. But if that spirit of submission 
passed away, there must have been some power at work through 
the whole population. An armed descent of a few Frenchmen 
on the coast of Mayo would not have attracted the lower 
classes of the people, if these lived on friendly terms with 
those above them. There was, no doubt, a revolutionary spirit 
over Europe, and England had not escaped its influence. To 
what extent the English people were pervaded by the doc- 
trines of the French Revolution it is somewhat difficult to 
decide, because there is a wide difference between theoretical 
acceptance and practical adoption. That the Directory relied 
upon support in England, is plain from the expedition to which 
we have referred in the beginning of this paper. There were 
men belonging to both houses of Parliament deeply implicated 
in relations with the French, the mass of the Dissenters was 
fully leavened by Paine's Age of Reason^ the agricultural interest 
below the great owners of property was discontented. The 
commercial and banking interest and the followers of the court, 
with their spiritual and economic adjuncts of the church and 
the bar, formed the loyal classes. We have the same social 
phenomena to-day ; we are glad that the gentleman of the 
Dublin Review has compelled us to speak plainly, and say that, 
as then happened to be the case, a plutocracy ruled the 
empire for its own purposes and was loyal to the throne. The 
money-brokers were then as now an integral part of the adminis- 
tration, though a new part ; they are now not merely an integral 
part, but the controlling influence. The rise of this power be- 
gan with the expenses of the American war, which every day 
made demand upon the resources of the people ; it has been an 

* Sir Jonah Harrington, Rise and Fall of the Irish Nation. 


instrument of every minister since, or rather a familiar, which 
can only be appeased by concessions at the expense of every 
other interest. For it black men are slaughtered in Africa, 
starved to death in India, weak nations invaded and plun- 
dered ; its influence is seen in a Jameson raid, an Afghan ex- 
pedition, a Venezuelan treaty, an Irish coercion act. The 
landed interest in England is upheld by its contemptuous aid 
in the shape of subsidies to sons-in-law, and even Princes of 
the Blood or their connections are its servants. 


It is idle to suppose that the American war had no influence 
on Irish sentiment. We know .that it had, but even without 
that knowledge we should have been of the opinion a priori. 
We are, therefore, unable to understand how any man could 
suppose that the insurrection of 1798, as a whole or any part 
of it, was due solely and exclusively to French influence. An 
Irish judge whose duty it is to assign a wrong cause for 
every social phenomenon that threatens to disturb the solitude 
of his country must find an external source French influence 
it used to be, American it has become but in the Dublin 
Review we look for light and leading, for something to encour- 
age the Catholic people, who have been so faithful in their 
struggle for education, for guarded public charities, for equal 
laws, for economic opportunity ; and if the only way to obtain 
these advantages be autonomy, to encourage ;their efforts to 
obtain it. Instead, we have an article full of bitterness and 
scorn published without perceptible cause at least we know of 
nothing which has occurred these few years past, if ever, to arouse 
the jealousy or alarm of English Catholics and published at a 
time when it was calculated to stop the progress of reconcilia- 
tion among the sections of the Irish party. 

The whole of the eighteenth century was a period of ter- 
rible oppression and suffering in Ireland. The writer of the 
article cannot efface the penal laws, of which Hussy Burgh, a 
Protestant and a friend of the -English connection, said to the 
ministers of his day : You have sown them and, like dragon's 
teeth, they have sprung up armed men. The story of that 
century is crystallized in Olympiads of famine, in evictions, in 
exactions of tithe, in rents " squeezed from the vitals " of the 
people. The evidence is to be found in the writings of humane 
men who told what they had witnessed, in state papers which 
set down those calamities in the language of official extenuation. 


There can be no question of it ; consequently we may find 
without seeking far a cause for the sympathy of the Mayo 
peasants with the expedition of Humbert. 


The fact is, that the rebellion was produced by Mr. Pitt's 
measures of repression, following a great breach of faith 
towards the Catholics ; and it is provable, with the intention 
of forcing the Act of Union on the dismayed country. We 
say that the Catholic priests all along exercised their influence 
in favor of submission, and if the government had any concern 
for law and order it would have found support in that influence. 
But what could be done when torture was inflicted on their 
flocks for any cause or no cause? Everything included in the 
meaning of free quarters enjoyed by a licentious soldiery 
placed among a hated and despised population was suf- 
fered. So far as we can understand, in the county of Wex- 
ford the only disloyal men in 1797-8 were the gentry. We 
know of a dinner in which a dozen gentlemen of the fore- 
most rank in the county expressed their hopes and dis- 
cussed their plans in the presence of a British officer in the 
confidence of after-dinner wine. This gentleman, a Captain 
Keogh, was related to some of them. He communicated to 
the Castle what he had heard ; we do not suggest that he should 
have concealed the treason, but we think that he ought to 
have stopped the speakers and informed them that his duty 
would not permit him to overlook the matter. The military 
were let loose upon the people, Catholic churches were 
burned, villages set on fire and the flying inhabitants slaughtered, 
women outraged as in Armenia the other day. Then rose such 
characters as the Walking Gallows, that giant who placidly 
strangled by means of a rope over his shoulder the wretches 
he came across ; Captain Armstrong, who dandled on his knee 
the children of the man whose blood he was selling ; Sir Judkin 
Fitzgerald, who flogged those whom he thought fit over a large 
area of Munster until the entrails would protrude ; that host of 
petty officials who possessed the right to try at the drum-head 
whoever displeased them and hang him from the nearest bough. 
It was boasted of by a regiment in the County Wexford that 
not a woman through the whole of one barony escaped violation. 
It was no wonder that the people seized their pitchforks and 
scythes, and we do not wonder that there were some priests to 
head them. Why should the recollection of such horrors be 


forced upon us ? We could have no difficulty in referring to 
the rising of 1798 as an episode in the history of misgovernment, 
to be regretted as such, but also to be taken as a warning to 
governments and subjects. We could have shown that when the 
Fitzwilliam administration entered office in Ireland, in 1795, 
the Catholics were full of hope and loyalty, that the Presbyter- 
ians alone plotted in irreconcilable hostility to overthrow English 
authority. We condemn or blame neither Catholic nor Presby- 
terian. It may be as Wolfe Tone suggested, that the Presbyter- 
ian religion is calculated to make men ardent republicans, and 
that nothing could reconcile them to the inferiority included in 
an episcopal established church whose head was a king. This 
is an interesting subject and we may consider it at another 
time. For the loyalty of the Catholics we have no praise, no 
censure. If they were loyal because they knew from experience 
how hopeless rebellion was, we can only regard their inactivity 
as proof that government had a good corporal security for the 
peace ; but there was no merit in that loyalty. On the other 
hand, if they were loyal, as every authority of the time says 
they were, because they had promises of emancipation and 
parliamentary reform, we can only ask our readers to judge 
what credit must be given to a writer in a great Catholic 
quarterly who would have us believe that they were ferocious 
savages whose occupation, when it could be pursued safely, con- 
sisted of robbery, arson, and murder ; and that as for loyalty, 
they had no conception of it? 



VOICE through heaven's arches rang, 

" Rejoice !"' 
Responsive, myriad angels sang, 

Rejoice ! 

The burst of song, with rapturous swell, 
Divine, ecstatic, rose and fell; 
Fell softly through the listening space 
To find on earth a dwelling-place. 

Before God's altar, bending low, 
With heart of fire and soul of snow, 

A priest ; 

So freshly crowned, the spirit's glow 
In circling radiance seemed to flow. 
His soul the wandering echoes find, 
Nor miss the heaven they left behind. 

O heavy years ! O thorny way ! 

Your shadows reach him not to-day. 

His hand within the clasp divine, 

His wordless prayer, " Thy will be mine." 

While sweet and clear the echoing voice 

Thrills through his soul, " Rejoice, rejoice ! " 




NGLAND has had the honor of producing a 
school of writers who have, throughout the 
century, adopted a new method of historical 
inquiry. That method was to some extent a 
reaction against the idealism of the revolution- 
ary period which preceded it. Possibly it also came into promi- 
nence on account of the purely material developments through 
which the nation successfully passed, at the epochs immediately 
preceding and succeeding the Reform Bill. Presumably it was 
also brought into existence to a considerable degree by the 
growth of those great and novel theories which Darwin, by a 
purely material method, ultimately imposed upon the meta- 
physics of our time. 

Mr, Lecky has ever been among the most prominent of 
this school of writers ; Buckle's is another name that, in a 
somewhat different connection, will occur at once to the reader. 
Sir Henry Maine in the domain of political science, Herbert 
Spencer in the domain of philosophical inquiry, represent the 
same school. 

Its methods are almost purely inductive. It proceeds to 
collect a mass of facts under the explicit declaration that the 
writer has no particular bias. When this mass has been once 
collected, he proceeds to examine it in what he calls the most 
impartial spirit. Then and only then the writer determines 
upon some theory which he is now in a position to say ex- 
plains these various phenomena. 

To the younger men of the present day, the chief interest 
of this melancholy episode in the history of intellectual effort 
is to watch its obvious decay and the ludicrous final attempts 
to bolster it up in our modern literature. The books of a 
type which at one time were capable of profoundly moving 
the thoughts of the universities, have been succeeded by books 
of a similar type, which merely produce weariness and a demand 
for definite ideal and for clear principle. 

It might have been supposed a priori that a method so 
different from the actual workings of the human mind would 
never have a permanent success. It might have been imagined 


(without waiting for time to give the proof) that it was convicr 
tion, faith, principle what you will which really formed with 
these writers, as with all others, the motive of inquiry; and that 
the facts they collected, for all their protestations of an unbiased 
mind, were nothing but the carefully edited proofs of a pre- 
viously conceived theory. 

The- fact' which might, we say, have been imagined in any 
case has been most convincingly proved in the last efforts of 
this school, and in none more convincingly than in Mr. Lecky's 
book on " Democracy and Liberty." 

Just as Sir Henry Maine shows his hand in the " Demo- 
cracy " after his careful attempts to veil it in the " Ancient 
Law"; just as Mr. Herbert Spencer has appeared as a militant 
and not over-rational materialist in political science, after the 
many protestations of an open mind in the "Sociology," so 
Mr. Lecky follows up the " open mind " of his history of the 
eighteenth century with the unhappy exposition of prejudice, 
and of facts carefully edited to exhibit that prejudice, in the 
" Democracy and Liberty." 

What is the meaning of the democratic movement of our 
century ? Is it a revival of the old states of the Mediterran- 
ean basin in the pre-Christian time? Is it a reaction towards 
the sublime ideals of self-government based upon high indi- 
vidual character, which formed the glory of the thirteenth cen- 
tury ? Is it a natural and blind evolution of the economic 
circumstances of to-day? Is it the mere result of the immense 
increase of population swamping the older traditions of the 
nations? To all of these fundamental questions Mr. Lecky 
offers no reply. That prime factor in the evolution of the 
modern state, the Industrial Revolution, passes through the 
whole of Mr. Lecky's book without one clear acknowledgment. 

Some light as to the character of the men who led the re- 
form, some analysis of a Charles James Fox, of a Jefferson, of 
a Danton; some guide, however paltry and insufficient, to the 
determination of the quality of the revolutionary ideal, might 
surely have been afforded ! It is simply omitted ; and we have 
in its place, running throughout the work, a querulous complaint 
against democracy as it is, without any appreciation of its 
transitional quality, without any forecast of the stupendous 
effects which the centralization of capital, on the one hand, or 
its better repartition, on the other, might effect. 

We are given the impression that Mr. Lecky personally does 
not like to see men of education or of material interests less 

1 897.] " DEMOCRA c Y AND LIBER T Y " RE VIE WED. 107 

than that of his own class possessed of any political power; and 
a huge volume of more or less disconnected facts, and even of 
contradictory interpretations, is arraigned as the basis of his 

In an article so short as the present review it is impossible to 
do more than give a few characteristic instances of this, but these 
should be sufficient to prove the main contention of our thesis. 

First, let us take the passage in which Mr. Lecky deplores 
the attack upon the English landed aristocracy. What is one 
of his main arguments in favor of its continuance ? Is it the 
statesman-like appreciation of the importance of a continuous 
body of men bound up with local government and dispersing 
the already sadly concentrated populations of our time ? Is it 
something based upon the strong argument of the immorality 
of touching private property ? These certainly enter into his 
arguments, but side by side with them, and of equal importance, 
is the ridiculous plea for a class "which can be early trained 
in the exercise of hospitality " ! Could anything be more hope- 
lessly the result of a personal bias ? Does Mr. Lecky imagine 
that the slipshod and not over well-bred hospitality of an Eng- 
lish country-house is the best type of good feeling to be found 
in modern England ? Does he know nothing of the home of a 
cultured merchant, of professional and non-territorial houses? 
He should, for no small part of his advancement was due to 
the fact that he, an Irish landlord, was taken up by the middle 
class Liberal leaders of the '40*3 and '5o's. 

Again, Mr. Lecky tells us that the votes exercised by the 
ignorant mass of a newly enfranchised electorate do not repre- 
sent the national feeling, but are merely the chance action of 
a whim or of some petty material interest ; and then he tells us 
in another place that the great heart of England rose in a re- 
cent election and swept away the Home-Rule Bill ! 

Again, Mr. Lecky characterizes, with full bias, the efforts. to 
destroy the unjust and the unhistorical power of the landed 
classes in Ireland. He talks of their property as though it had 
the absolute quality of uncontested personal property. He 
must surely know that such a presentation of the Irish village 
community is a wilfully false one. The writer of England in 
the Eighteenth Century cannot be ignorant of the fact that there 
has been, during the short time that this unjust aggression upon 
national rights has existed, a continuous protest against its 
continued exercise, and that a man might as well talk of his 
absolute immunity from an old debt that had constantly been 




pressed, as of the absolute property of a Smith Barry or a 
Clanricard in his land. 

In fine, though the name is great and the authority attach- 
ing to it is enormous ; though the man is of the highest culture, 
and possesses the most profound knowledge of the details of 
recent history, we may surely borrow from the methods of 
his own school a sufficient contempt for authority and a suffi- 
cient independence of judgment to conclude that this book is 
rather the proof of the failure of his methods than a work 
from which the younger minds, and the justly eager minds, of 
our time can draw any definite conclusions as to what our 
modern state is, will be, or should be. 


now to earth the wintry shadows near, 
Thy purple tints reflect the doleful light 
That flickers soft above the spot where blight 
Hath carved queenly Autumn's sepulchre. 
Thou ! last of blooms below, sweet Aster dear, 
In vain I plead with roses, lilies white 

Those blossomed sympathies to glad thy sight 

So wooed of Solitude's unfettered tear. 

As coppice violets immerse the shore 

Of Spring in petal-waves of limpid blue, 

So let thy crests of color o'er me flow. 

Oh, what a prophecy of light before 

The dawn art thou ! For, lo ! thy sombre hue 

Forestalls the fairer blossoming of snow. 

1897-] THE ART OF LYING. 109 



'NE of the strongest feelings of my childish heart 
was a love of truth. With me it was not a virtue 
but an inborn characteristic, reflecting no more cre- 
dit than would the talent for sculpture or languages 
with which some highly gifted children are en- 
dowed by the good angels at their entrance on the stage called life. 
The very word falsehood I never said lie even in thought, 
for that represented the abyss of vulgarity as well as depravity 
conveyed depths of horror simply unfathomable. It was the 
one thing of which no absolution could ever make one entirely 
free, because it was a stain on the honor as well as on the soul. 
I thought one might be very naughty, and by repentance and 
a firm though fragile resolution to sin no more, be forgiven ; 
but a falsehood ! One might get well of the fever and be the 
same as ever, but of the small-pox the marks would remain no 
matter what one did. 

" The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," 
was an article of my youthful creed as firm, I believed, as the 
pyramids. As I grew older this was modified to " the truth 
always, but not always the whole truth." I was gradually ini- 
tiated into the mysteries of conventional "taradiddles" a 
phrase adapted probably from the Sanscrit. I learned that 
" not at home " meant simply not at home to the person call- 
ing ; that pleasure expressed at a visit or delight over a pre- 
sent, when the present was not wanted and the visit a nuisance, 
was only " politeness," and of course everybody, and especially 
little girls, must be polite. Then, when I passed into long 
frocks and the possession of real hair-pins, the mysteries of 
ethics were unfolded to me, and I learned all about mental 
reservations, natural secrets, secrets of trust, and the keeping 
of one's own affairs to one's self, till it seemed to me that one 
might be on the borderland of falsehood every day and still be 
literally truthful. The most dreadful and blood-curdling ethical 
problems presented themselves to my imagination. I heard all 
about the monk, pursued on the heinous charge of being a 
Christian, who turned and walked towards his pursuers, and 
when interrogated about the object of their quest declared, with 
perfect truth, " I have never seen his face." 

i io THE ART OF LYING. [Oct., 

In reading of the penal days in England, when it was treason, 
and therefore death, to harbor a priest, I puzzled over the 
problem whether one could not deny the presence of a clergy- 
man in the house, and if it would not be a secret of trust, and 
I decided that one could say she did not know. Humanly 
speaking, it was reasonable to suppose that the priest was in 
the underground chamber or the secret vault ; but he might 
have been stricken with heart-disease within the last ten min- 
utes and be then in heaven, so I fell asleep with the comfort- 
ing conviction that had I been in the place of Edith Howard, 
the heroine of a very thrilling tale of those times, I could have 
saved my conscience and the head of my dear old confessor as well. 

Of course, George Washington and his hatchet were old 
friends. It never occurred to my childish imagination to doubt 
that if he had prevaricated about the cherry-tree he never would 
have been the Father of his Country, nor have had his picture 
taken in powdered cue and a white apron, to adorn the par- 
lors in the rural districts and to fire the ambition of good lit- 
tle boys and girls to save their country. The discovery was 
reserved for later years that the path of rectitude was not al- 
ways the path of glory, and that Washington, a hundred years 
more modern, might have been asked to sacrifice truth, not for 
his country but for his party and his party's spoils. Then 
natural secrets and mental reservations were twisted into all 
sorts of fantastic tales ; and when I got the opportunity to put 
my hypothetical cases to a clerical friend, I was assured that 
my conclusions were generally ethically correct, so that it really 
did not seem such a very difficult matter to tell the truth. 
And yet the conviction grew, as I reached slowly but surely 
those years supposed to be years of discretion, that truth 
as a virtue, or even a sentiment, was fast getting to be, with 
hoop-skirts and Quaker bonnets and stage-coaches, out of date. 

I see falsehood to the right and to the left, in high places 
and in low, in Arcadian regions and the market-place, until I 
am tempted to wonder if it will not be discovered to us, through 
some highly stupid and eminently proper novel of the class to 
which we are invited to go for ethical food, that falsehood is, 
under certain conditions, not a vice but rather the highest kind 
of virtue. To be sure, the reviewers have not informed a wait- 
ing and patient public of the discovery, but that may be merely 
an oversight. 

Another illusion of my innocent youth was the belief that 
anything put in a book was true, and history especially the 
essence of truth. It no more occurred to me to doubt the 

1 897.] THE ART OF LYING. in 

thrilling anecdotes of Caesar and Napoleon and Cleopatra and 
Washington and Braddock than it did to doubt that I wanted 
my dinner to-day and should probably want it to-morrow. His- 
tory, according to the dictionary to which, in the absence of 
an American Cambridge or Oxford, we appeal in matters of 
doubt, is a narration of facts, and simple-minded ones, among 
us believe the dictionary ; but the documents in the case prove 
the definition to be wrong. History is the narration of theories 
materialized into facts by the art of certain writers, called his- 
torians. Mr. James Anthony Froude is not alone in the dis- 
tinction of writing fiction in the guise of acceptable history ; 
he is only following a very common example. 

Recently we have been given a most interesting book, called 
Some Lies and Errors of History. We expect errors in the 
work of fallible men, but lies in history seem like a phenome- 
non. At the hands of the learned author certain current tales 
which have long passed for history are demolished. 

Tourists have for ages spent reverent moments in the grim 
prison of Tasso, and poets, from Byron to college freshmen, 
have immortalized the narrow cell. Now we learn that Tasso 
was never there at all. Alexander VI. and the Borgias have 
furnished the most lurid pages of history, and after regretting 
human weakness and growing hot with indignation over such 
awful depravity, we now find that our sentiments have all been 
wasted; the tales are for the most part a fabrication which 
rests on a journal of a master of ceremonies of the Papal court 
a most wonderful journal, begun the year of his appointment 
to office and continued a year after his death. Even poor little 
Marie Bashkirtseff, of our own times, with her candid and volu- 
minous diary, could not match this post-mortem creation ! 
The Inquisition and Galileo are current coin ; the horrors nar- 
rated thereof are not true, but a little thing like that does not 
affect their circulation or their value. It was Tasso himself 
who said that men's minds are ice for truth but fire for falsehood. 

We pick up one book and find that Elizabeth, the " virgin " 
monarch of England, was a wise, prudent, virtuous sovereign ; 
we read in another of her intrigues and jealousies, her perse- 
cutions and vindictiveness, and can only conclude that one or 
other of her biographers is jesting. We read of the awful do- 
ings of " Bloody Mary," and expect every moment to see the 
very ink turn red ; and then when we timidly ask for proofs, 
we find that she was only eminently human, with conflicting 
currents of good and ill. One historian (?) lashes himself into 
a fury over the Bourbons, till we wonder that the horrors of 

ii2 THE ART OF LYING. [Oct., 

the French Revolution were not redoubled and precipitated a 
century sooner ; we meet with another gentleman enthroned in 
a musty corner of our libraries who tells us that they were, on 
the whole, fairly able and Christian men. We have shuddered 
over a most dramatic description- given us of King Charles 
firing on the Huguenots from a part of the Louvre not built 
until thirty years after the massacre. In the midst of our mag- 
nificent preparations to honor Columbus, the man who, we were 
taught as children, gave a new world to humanity and a haven 
to the oppressed of all nations the man who set out on his peril- 
ous voyage with a prayer in his heart and God on his lips he 
was " shown up," to borrow an odious newspaper expression, 
in one of our leading magazines as a buccaneer, a slave-dealer, 
a pirate, a tyrant, and a miser. 

Some day a writer will prove that our own Washington 
was not a hero at all, but only an unscrupulous diplomat, a 
cowardly soldier, a traitor in thought, and that will be the 
last historic straw our national heart will break. 

Sadly, and almost with tears, we are tempted to paraphrase the 
famous question of the Areopagus : " What is truth, and where ? " 

We can easily imagine in this progressive age, which never 
stops and generally gets what it wants, and when we have 
bureaus for the supplying of everything from a cook or a 
grandfather to a congressman's speeches, the establishment of 
a historical bureau where history will be made to order. We 
can picture a school committee going in to leave an order for 
school history : " We want the French Revolution made very 
strong. Give Louis XIV. as an example of vice and weakness, 
devote a whole chapter to the profligacy at Versailles, make 
Elizabeth a representative character and suppress Dudley ; give 
a dramatic setting to the Huguenots, and throw a red light on 
the orgies of the Borgias. And, by the way, leave the years 
following the Civil War in the United States blank ; it is not 
well for children to know too much." 

We can fancy further this same committee returning in a few 
days or weeks to examine the proofs as we commoner mortals do 
our negatives at photographers : " Well, on the whole the work is 
tolerably satisfactory. We want Mary Stuart retouched ; you 
seem to have missed the malignity which we want to go with 
her character. Rub out the spots in Voltaire and put a back- 
ground all black for the Bourbons. In posing the group of 
representative men, put Marcus Aurelius more to the front, 
holding a torch to light St. Paul on his way ; give a full page 
illustration to the murder of Hypatia ; and oh ! the chapter on 

i897-j THE ART OF LYING. 113 

the beginnings of Christianity you might suppress altogether. 
It is so hard to please every one in this matter, and we want 
to avoid all cause of offence." And then, with a bland smile 
and a learned remark about the weather, we picture the com- 
mittee filing out of the bureau and stopping for interior irriga- 
tion at the first corner. 

That men in the heat of party strife, personal ambition, or 
temporal gain are tempted to do many things which cannot be 
tested by the golden rule, we understand soon enough in our 
education ; but to find lies bold and persistent is a horror 
which dawns on us at a later stage. To carry a point by mis- 
representing the other side and traducing an adversary, seems 
worse than the practice, in pagan warfare, of poisoning the 

I began first to read the newspapers intelligibly and with 
any degree of interest during a presidential campaign. It 
seemed strange and perplexing to me that the greatest villain 
the country afforded outside the penitentiaries should be 
allowed by respectable people to be put up by a set of vil- 
lains, only differing in degree from the candidate, for the high- 
est office in the land. But a love of fair play made me read 
the organs of the opposition, only to find that the leaders on 
the other side were the rogues and the scoundrels, and the 
parties of the first part Solons for wisdom and Pericles for 
justice, Washington and Adams and all the early Revolution- 
ary fathers together for patriotism. After the election it was 
admitted that both candidates were very worthy and able 

Since no one's reputation is safe who ventures out of the 
obscurity of private life, 1 would like to suggest another tri- 
bunal, officially founded at Washington as a sort of supreme 
court, composed of men of the highest ability and most unim- 
peachable integrity, before which any one could have the privi- 
lege of presenting himself for a certificate of character, this 
certificate to be left in the archives of the tribunal and care- 
fully guarded night and day. Our presidents after a campaign 
might show that their past lives had been honest, upright, and 
pure, their deeds noble, their patriotism unquestioned, their 
statesmanship of a high order. 

It seems like a paradox to imagine men lying in the cause 
of truth, but facts speak louder than theories; a history of re- 
ligious controversies will reveal to the most cursory student a 
regular tournament of lying. 

ii4 THE ART OF LYING. [Oct., 

" Maria Monk," the escaped nun, still lingers in the rural 
districts of certain sections ; a high-school professor, supposed 
to be learned, recently informed the youth of his city that 
confessions were from a dollar up, according to the sins of the 
penitent ; still more recently a popular newspaper correspon- 
dent, who signs himself " Gath," told the hundred thousand 
more or less intelligent people who read his letters, that in 
Spain indulgences are sold, and that the sacrament of matri- 
mony comes so high that poor people are compelled to dis- 
pense with it altogether as a prelude to the joining of young 
hearts and scant fortunes. 

Grave ministers in certain sections still warn their congre- 
gations of the encroachments of a foreign potentate, and in 
glowing words and mixed metaphors, punctuated with the deep 
amens from pious old deacons, thunder anathemas at the foe 
"in our midst." When by chance we pick up a denominational 
paper containing these tirades, we are tempted to wonder if 
we really are living in the age of the telephone and the tele- 
graph, the limited express and the elevated car, and the Asso- 
ciated Press ; the age of Ibsen and Browning Clubs and Uni- 
versity Extension and Christian Endeavor Societies ; yet when 
we see these moss-grown slanders so fresh and so full of vital- 
ity, we are forced to conclude that as they flourish now, so will 
they continue to flourish when some lone Briton takes his stand 
on a broken arch of the Women's Building to sketch the ruins 
of Chicago ! 

Lies in every-day life are too common to excite much 
notice. We are accustomed to bankrupt sales, to goods never 
before so cheap, or given away at half price ; to women made 
beautiful by Madame Fraude's preparations, and the old made 
young by Doctor Quack's elixir. Only the innocent or the 
very stupid are deceived in the spacious verandas, the shady 
lawns, the beautiful view, and the rich cream of the average 
farm-house where city boarders are wanted for the summer. 
Even the boarding-school prospectuses, with their full corps of 
experienced teachers, their modern improvements, and the un- 
surpassed advantages of their art departments, are accepted 
with a full allowance of salt. No one expects a woman to 
tell the truth about her age, a hunter about his game, or a 
returning tourist about his adventures. Well-to-do women with 
a penchant for appropriating other people's goods are called 
kleptomaniacs; I do not know what euphemistic title has been 
coined for natural liars. Modifications of this same trait, pre- 

1897.] THE ART OF LYING. 115 

tending to be what one is not, extends through many upward 
ramifications of the social strata. In its higher forms it is 
pathetic, and in all absurd. Miss Jewett's old maids bravely 
pressing their dainties on their guest, with the effect of having 
plenty more in reserve, come very near our tears ; the brass 
logs painted to look like wood, with concealed gas-jets, em- 
balmed in Mr. Warner's pages, call forth a smile. 

I have always admired the little girl who, upon being asked 
by a young lady how she liked her gown, the gown being 
ugliness unrelieved, replied that the buttons were very pretty ; 
her desire to be truthful and her desire to be polite were very 
evenly balanced and the compromise most ingenious. More 
blunt and more material, as might be expected, was the boy's 
answer to the visitor at whom he had stared longer than good 
breeding would permit. "Well, my little man, what do you 
think of me?" No answer being given, the question was 
pressed: " And so you won't tell me; and why not?" "'Cause 
I'd be spanked if I did." 

Some well-meaning but tactless people seem to have an 
idea that perfect truthfulness and perfect breeding cannot 
flourish in the same soil. As a matter of fact, the people who 
are the most truthful and sincere are generally the people 
with the most beautiful manners. It is not necessary to be 
always projecting disagreeable truths, like so many pin-thrusts, 
at a helpless victim. You may not admire my gowns, or my 
temper, or my ideas, but it is not your place to tell me so. I 
may not care for you or your opinions, but I am not going 
out of my way to inform you of the fact. There are self- 
constituted mentors in the world who take a melancholy pleasure, 
or at least it ought to be melancholy, in telling one all the 
disagreeable things she knows and repeating ill-natured remarks ; 
she never gossips ; oh, no ! She only warns from the highest 
motives of course. 

A real friend will sometimes speak unpleasant truths ; but 
the pill is gilded with so much love, and compounded so 
daintily by gentle fingers, and made so small by admiring- eyes, 
and given with such a mass of the sweets of appreciation and 
tenderness that we hardly recognize it as a pill at all. 

Talleyrand's epigram, " Words are given us to conceal our 
thoughts," has taken its place in a dozen languages, and yet 
words are capable of such delicate manipulations that thoughts 
may be concealed and still no falsehood told. A prudent man 
will keep his secrets by dissembling. He acts as if there were 

n6 THE ART OF LYING. [Oct., 

no secrets to keep ; an imprudent one will simulate. The one 
shuns notice, the other courts it ; the one merely conceals the 
truth, the other acts a lie. One learns generally through per- 
sonal experience that candor and prudence may really be 

Only a supremely stupid person will find a falsehood lurk- 
ing in the conventional phrases : " The prisoner pleads not 
guilty "not guilty in the eyes of the law until proven so; 
41 glad to see you " planting one's self on the gospel precept to 
love one's neighbor ; " dear Sir, or Madam " dear in the 
sense that we are all members of that universal brotherhood 
of man which includes women also. " His Most Christian 
Majesty," to the greatest profligate who ever wore a crown, is 
only an arbitrary title, and " Defender of the Faith " is now, 
of course, purely Pickwickian. We are all familiar with im- 
promptu speeches prepared a month in advance with the un- 
expected honor, sought for night and day. 

Imagine the racket that would be made in the world if an 
automatic electrically charged cock were to crow every time an 
untruth was uttered ! Bedlam would sink to a second place 
immediately. A book has recently been issued dealing with 
the fortunes of a group of men who pledged themselves to 
absolute truthfulness for only one day. The results were high- 
ly disastrous. 

It would be interesting to study the mental operations by 
which prevarications are justified the mental reservations by 
which they are hedged. Fortunes have been spent on Arctic 
explorations, and explorations in other regions natural and 
scientific, which proved of no great benefit .to the world. I 
should like to suggest to some ten-millionaire we all have a 
weakness for playing philanthropist with other people's fortunes 
the desirability of a fund for the investigation of secrets, 
mental reservations, and lies. To find out, in a word, how lies 
are justified to the consciences of liars. A whole psychological 
vista might be opened before us. 

We all know people who are naturally secretive, just as 
others are naturally quick-tempered ; only in the one case the 
trait is recognized as a fault and in the other it is nursed as a 
virtue. The secretive man considers himself a model of pru- 
dence and discretion ; he makes a mystery of his most ordinary 
acts, conceals his likes and his dislikes, never ventures on a decided 
opinion unless sure of sympathizers and supporters, and is not 
above employing spies ; he is given to signing articles for the 

1 897.] THE ART OF LYING. 117 

press with a fictitious name, or better still, to having some one 
else, less important than he thinks himself to be, bear the 

Serious indeed has been the effect of the spirit of falsehood 
on certain phases of our social life. Our papers teem with 
broken engagements, breach of promise suits, squabbles over 
technicalities. Promises are lightly given and lightly kept. No 
one is greatly surprised when a new cook fails to come, a gown 
not sent home on time, a bill left unpaid, an appointment 
broken. As a reaction against such universal mendacity in real 
life, fiction is going to the other extreme. The all-compre- 
hensive canon of literary art is: " The truthful treatment of 
material." The old-fashioned romanticism has gone out, except- 
ing with certain gentle old ladies who cling to the idols of 
their youth, and some very young girls who live quite beyond 
the charmed radius whose poles are Doctor Ibsen and Mr. 
Howells. Unfortunately, it does not seem to occur to some of 
our realists that intelligence, while not so plentiful, is just as 
real as stupidity, companionable people as commonplace. It 
must be a perversion of mind which associates realism only 
with something ugly, if not positively wicked. "A rose is as 
real as a potato," some modern sage has remarked ; but he is 
probably not a writer of novels. 

It is a question whether lies are really increasing as the 
world grows older, or whether they are only found out more 
readily. Solomon's testimony was not flattering to his own age, 
and that takes us back three thousand years ; while certain little 
transactions which Biblical and profane history bring to light 
do not square at all with our ethical ideas. It would be inter- 
esting to know whether Marcus Aurelius ever encountered 
what in modern times is know as a " confidence man "; whether 
papyrus-rolls posted on the Roman Forum advertised corner 
lots or boomed an Apian suburb ; whether small boys were 
stationed by the Athenian portico to cry in the ears of the 
philosophers the merits of somebody's hair-dye. If all the evil 
that has been wrought in the world by lies could materialize 
in one long procession, what an array of tragedies would pass 
before our sorrowful eyes ! Desdemona dying, and the Indian 
of our own times, stung into frenzy by broken treaties and 
barefaced lies, would not be the least pathetic of figures in 
the vast array. The procession of liars would be too long to be 
reviewed at one sitting. 

It is not given to every liar to attain the unenviable immor- 




tality which overtook the Rev. Mr. Kingsley in the trenchant 
pages of the great Cardinal Newman. The impugning of his 
veracity was cause grave enough to goad the gentlest of men 
into one of the finest bits of sarcasm in the English tongue. 
Would that unwarranted attacks on another always met the 
same fate ! 

The American love of fair play, when not blinded by preju- 
dice, usually acts on the motto 4< Hear the other side." For 
myself, a perverse desire to know what the accused has to say 
in defence, whether men or measures are at the bar, has led 
to the discovery, which doubtless every one makes for himself, 
that most questions have not only two sides, but sometimes a 
dozen besides the right and the wrong side. 

I have sometimes longed for a transparency motto, " He 
who proves too much proves nothing," to flash before certain 
impassioned orators. We are living in an age of progress, as 
college valedictorians annually tell us ; we are even informed 
that the march of mind is commensurate with the march of 
matter ; so surely it is not an optimistic dream to look to the 
promising Twentieth century to inaugurate an era of truth and 
honor and honesty, when Damon will find another Pythias, and 
that highest of tributes be deserved by men " His word is as 
good as his bond." 

1897-] THE FLYING SQUAD. 119 



HIS summer I was walking one day along a 
lonely road, near a small village in the moun- 
tains, when I was overtaken by a boy driving a 
fast horse attached to a dusty buggy. He drove 
furiously towards me and cried out " Father, 
father! will you come and see my father, who is dying?" 
"Yes,'' I replied, leaping into his wagon and riding off at a 
tearing pace till we reached a white, comfortable-looking farm- 
house, shining in the fields. I entered and heard the man's 
confession, but I could give him neither Communion nor Ex- 
treme Unction, because I was only a visitor in the neighbor- 
hood, and the church and the parish priest were seven miles 
away. After I had done what I could, I said to the sick 
man's wife and son : 

"Now you must send for your pastor to give Holy Com- 
munion and Extreme Unction." 

"Oh ! " said the boy, with tears rolling down his cheeks, " can't 
you give them, father, for I think we have them in the house?" 
None of these people had been to church in years. 
A few days after, while taking another stroll, I found a 
family of fourteen children white-haired, bare-legged, dirty- 
faced urchins, the eldest of whom was a boy of sixteen. The 
father was a French Canadian and the mother a Swede. Both 
were still young and strong. But they, as well as the children, 
were grossly ignorant of the very elements of Christianity. 
The father, originally a Catholic, had forgotten the lessons and 
given up the practice of his religion. The mother had none ; 
and the children were only a degree removed from the condi- 
tion of the young pigs which I saw wallowing in the yard 
near the stable. Knowing that there were many Catholics 
scattered through the hills and valleys of the vicinity, I sought 
out the most prominent of them. He was a Canadian of Irish 
descent, born and brought up among French Canadians, so that 
his accent when he spoke English was a comical cross between 
a Cork brogue and a Quebec patois. His wife was a French 
Canadian, who had taught school in her early days, and who 
told me that she could sing the whole choir-part of the Mass 
through, from Kyrie Eleison to Agnus Dei inclusively, if I would 


gather the people in a hall which she named, and agree to 
sing the Mass for the farmers. I declined her offer, but did 
gather the people and say a Low Mass for them on three 
Sundays. To the astonishment of every one, we had a con- 
gregation of two hundred souls the first, and of three hundred 
and fifty the second Sunday. They came from the hill-tops 
and from the deep valleys. They were Irish, Canadians, and 
Americans, some of very old stock. The Protestant community 
was astonished, and the Catholics themselves were surprised at 
their own numbers. But how ignorant they were ! There were 
farmers' sons of eighteen who had never made their First Com- 
munion, farmers and their wives who had not gone to Mass in 
years. There were young people who, by constantly frequenting 
services in non-Catholic churches, had learned the hymns and 
forms of worship, and had lost the knowledge of their own reli- 
gion. They had no Catholic books, no Catholic pictures, no 
Catholic newspapers. Their life was without true religious influ- 
ence, and they grew up like animals. Some of them had intermar- 
ried with Protestants and become bad Protestants, as they had 
been bad Catholics. These are our pagani, stupid, ignorant, but 
not through their fault. There is no one to enlighten them, for 
the task is a hard one ; and no one yet seems to have a 
vocation for this work. 

Can we help them these masses of our own people, scat- 
tered in remote and secluded parts of, the whole country, and 
condemned to involuntary deprivation of priest, church, instruc- 
tion, and sacraments? Simple, good-natured, grateful souls they 
are, if some one would only come and instruct and serve them. 
It is among these that good books should be scattered. How 
I longed for a thousand of Father Searle's Plain Facts or of 
Cardinal Gibbons's Faith of our Fathers, or of some of the old 
tracts that zealous Father Hecker wrote in his early days, as I 
looked at the upturned faces of these unsophisticated rustics 
while I preached ! After a few days, I taught the boy whose 
dying father I had attended to serve Mass. No city boy in 
the end could do it better, and none could be more fervent. 
On the first Friday of the month I said Mass in a farm-house, 
and although it was known only to a few that there would be 
Mass, a dozen went to confession and Holy Communion. I 
have said Mass in cathedrals in Europe, and sung it when the 
harmonies of Gounod and of Haydn filled the aisles of the city 
church, but I have never said it so devoutly as in that shanty. 

Meeting the pastor of the place a short time before I re- 
turned home, I asked him how these people could be helped. 

1897.] THE FLYING SQUAD. 121 

"Send us books," said he, "and we can distribute them. 
Catechisms, prayer-books, little works explaining the doctrines of 
the church, small volumes of lives of the saints ; send us these. 
We shall give them to the farmers, and they and their families 
can and will read them." When he told me this I promised 
to help him, and at the same time I thought how good it 
would be if some of the young priests who ride bicycles and 
are fond of mountain tramping would form a " Flying Squad " 
of missionaries ; of men not satisfied with merely evangelizing 
the towns, but desirous of evangelizing the isolated farmers, the 
log-rollers of the remote rivers, the hewers of trees and the 
workers in saw-mills in the wooded mountains. Besides an in- 
crease of faith and piety, I promise those who may form such 
a " Flying Squad " great pleasure and good health. 

And as I have begun my screed by a sad story of ignorance, 
let me close with one of enlightenment. Rambling among the 
woods one morning towards the end of my vacation, I thought 
I would increase the strength of my lungs by singing the 
gamut in the open air. Neither human being nor house 
was visible ; but suddenly, in answer to my top note, I heard 
the tune of a familiar hymn floating through the trees. I 
stopped to listen, and there distinctly in the solitude two ex- 
cellent voices, evidently of young girls, sang the " Regina 
Cceli " as it is sung in many of our parish schools. I hastened 
in the direction whence the sound proceeded and soon saw a 
farm-house, from which the voices came. One voice was a so- 
prano, the other an alto, and they sang the whole hymn through 
in Latin without missing a word. When they had finished it, 
they began the "Adeste Fideles." It was strange to hear them 
sing a Christmas hymn in midsummer. But they thought it 
appropriate for all times. They did not know that any one 
was listening, and they did not care. They were singing to 
please God and themselves. The reader can imagine the holy 
thoughts that filled my mind, standing in that silent wood 
and listening to hymns that bring back all the associations of 
Christmas and Easter. Here was the Grand Old Church assert- 
ing her doctrines in the very forest ; here was the dogma of 
the divinity of Christ and of the veneration of his blessed 
Mother proclaimed to the very birds and beasts. I went to 
the farm-house, where I found the two sweet singers, ex-gradu- 
ates of a German Catholic parochial school, and refreshed 
myself with a glass of good milk. " The Flying Squad " would 
meet with such pleasant incidents of travel all over the country. 

The Christian, by Hall Caine,* is a novel which 
the author has heavily handicapped. The only 
justification a novel-writer can plead for offering a 
work which adds nothing to exact knowledge, nay, 
which imparts no information whatever, because it 
can impart no information to be relied upon, is that it pos- 
sesses elements of fancy, pathos, humor, and -power to purify 
the heart by sympathy with the moods, and strengthen the will 
by the exercise of judgment on the whole life and conduct of 
the fictitious characters that play before the reader. Some 
such view of his mission Mr. Hall Caine has taken : he gives a 
note at the beginning to fix the period of his drama and to 
define the time of action spent in the books, and he gives a 
note at the end to inform us that he has sometimes used "the 
diaries, letters, memoirs, sermons, and speeches of recognizable 
persons, living and dead." His object is plain enough : he 
asks the public to take his novel not as a work of fiction at 
all in the ordinary sense, but as a study of social problems 
from the higher view of individual responsibility to God. When 
in the note at the end he mentions that he has " frequently 
employed fact for the purposes of fiction," his teachings must 
be recommended by such fact. That is, he distinctly puts his 
novel forward as a reflex of the "last quarter of the nine- 
teenth century." Mr. Hall Caine has collected a good deal of 
information from the seamy side of London life, and we think, 
though general, it is offered with as much regard to reality as 
a newspaper report. But there is no enthralling interest in his 
experiences of the low streets and the music halls, and why 
we have them we are at a loss to discover. They serve as the 
stage and scene for the young clergyman, Mr. Storm, and the 
girl, Glory, to rant or speak naturally, to play their parts or 
to live according as the author's histrionic pulse rises or falls. 
It may be that in some dim way Mr. Hall Caine caught hold 
of a fragment of truth that the lifelessness of religious institu- 

* New York : D. Appleton & Co. 


tions, supposed to sway the mind and conscience of great masses 
of men, kills faith in the institutions first and in all religion 
afterwards, unless in some few hearts unless in five good men 
like those asked for in the Cities of the Plain, or the seven 
thousand that worshipped God amid the backsliding of Israel. 

It is on such a fragment of truth suspended in the air, 
isolated as a lonely cloud and for practical speculation just as 
solid, that the author erects his work. Still, if the characters 
were drawn with force and fidelity, and if there were some 
sort of proportion between motive and action, an artistic rela- 
tion between character and setting that is, between each life 
and the world of the book, we might have a work of fiction as 
well as an illustrated philosophy. We have neither. 

The book opens with the sailing of the steamship that plied 
between Douglas, the capital of the Isle of Man, and Liver- 
pool. Mr. Hall Caine, it may be interposed, lives in the Isle 
of Man, and dates the note from a place in it,*Gruba Castle. 
There are three persons, two of whom are Mr. Storm and 
Glory, on the deck of the Tynwald, the steamer about to sail ; 
the third, Parson Quayle, Glory's grandfather, seeing them off. 
Mr. Storm or, as he should be presented, the Honorable and 
Rev. John Storm, is the son of Lord Storm, who is a peer in 
his own right, whatever that may mean, and the nephew of 
the Earl of Erin, Prime Minister. The earl is the elder brother 
of the lord, and one way or another we are rather reminded 
of Victor Hugo's curious titles and confusions of English no- 
bility in the Man who Laughs, but indeed we are reminded of 
nothing else in that wonderful work. The opening scene is 
not ineffective, and probably owes the successful mounting to 
the fact that the writer had often witnessed a similar one, when 
the vessel was about to start on its trip to Liverpool. Here 
we have Glory for the first time. She is sixteen years of age, 
somewhat developed in secular wisdom and physique, and may 
represent a product of the Isle of Man ; but we can only put 
her down at this interview as a forward, vulgar young person, 
and not a clever girl with audacious wit, as Mr. Hall Caine 
intends her to be. Parson Quayle bids his grandchild and her 
young and reverend protector good-by, goes on shore, and the 
steamer throbs away from the white water that seems to fly 
from her. We may dismiss the grandfather, who has not a 
touch of interest in him he is a mawkish old dotard ; but Mr. 
Hall Caine would try and make us believe him a man whose 
advanced years typified all that was dignified, amiable, and 


wise in age. Mr. Storm we cannot dispose of so lightly, for 
he is the wizard and the spirit, both in one, by which the 
author works his wonders. 

With the utter improbability of Lord Storm's life since the 
birth of John, as springing from the motives found for him by 
the author, we need not deal it is bizarre, grotesque, anything 
but natural and in this life and its counsels we have the 
moulding of John's character and the explanation of his life. 
It cannot be too strongly insisted upon that the improbable 
has no place in fiction. We mean in fiction written according 
to the rules of art which have their foundation in immutable 
principles of human nature. The paradox, which we understand 
newspaper-men, mantua-makers, and medical students who read 
novels are so fond of expressing " Truth is stranger than 
fiction " is a testimony to the soundness of the principle as a 
canon of taste. Now, there is no explanation of John's life 
in his father's life of selfish isolation, any more than in the 
maxims which he propounded for the guidance of the young man. 

We pass by the early relations between him and Glory 
those during her childhood and the dawn of girlhood which 
are told with some vigor, and shall go at once to Storm in 
his first curacy in London. He has undertaken the charge of 
Glory, who, young as she is, is accepted as a probationer for 
the office of hospital nurse. She loves him and he loves her ; 
but at a critical period for her amid the snares and temptations 
of London, he enters an Anglican monastery and leaves her un- 
protected. This is the cold statement of the manner in which 
he fulfils the trust reposed in him by the girl's grandfather, 
and realizes his own ideals of the sacredness of love, the 
claims of a soul dependent on his counsel and protection, 
the demands of duty on the heart and intellect. It is in vain 
that Mr. Hall Caine views him as a man pure, lofty, and single- 
minded ; he shows himself an ill-tempered, shallow, conceited 
egotist, and not the less so that he proves himself a fool. We 
can understand the rector Canon Wealthy name too sugges- 
tive of an abstraction to whom riches and society and a com- 
fortable religion fill the measure of life. He does not want to 
mend the age, he does not trouble himself about the hideous 
facts of a dissolving society; he is content to go to heaven in 
a coach and four, and possibly regards his place there as a kind 
of bishopric to compensate him for the mitre he failed to 
obtain on earth. But Storm is a Boanerges without thunder, a 
prophet who mistakes hysterics for zeal. He pours himself out 

1 897.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 125 

on London sin and misery with the passion of Jonas, he reads 
the great city's doom, but the citizens are unappalled. They 
cannot see what is so plain to him, and we rather sympathize 
with them in their blindness, as we hold that men are not 
required by any law of the emotions to take bathos for inspira- 
tion. For instance, when he informs Mrs. Calendar that he 
intends- "to tell Society over again, it is an organized hypocrisy 
for the pursuit and demoralization of woman, and the Church 
that bachelorhood is not celibacy, and polygamy is against the 
laws of God ; to look and search for the beaten and broken 
who lie scattered and astray in our bewildered cities, and 
to protect them and shelter them whatever they are, how- 
ever low they have fallen, because they are my sisters and I 
love them," we give him credit for good motives, but we can- 
not help thinking him windy and boastful ; that he is all words ; 
though the good old Scotchwoman seems to believe he is as 
the voice crying in the wilderness that drew all to hear, and 
not a voice listened to by a man out of employment, three 
idle women, and five small boys, in a corner like a place aside 
from the traffic. 

We cannot deny there are flashes of true manhood and 
womanhood here and there from the badly-jointed and not 
"all-compact" characters he furnishes. Storm's jealousy is 
truthful, and the impulse to kill Glory under the idea that he 
would thereby save her soul, has genius in it. " I thought it 
was God's voice; it was the devil's" as if throwing off a 
madness that had been gradually working its way into his 
brain. But where we have Mr. Hall Caine in his most signal 
instance of unfitness for work such as he has attempted is in 
his report of John Storm's message on the Derby Day. We 
know how Nineveh was affected by the prophet's iteration of 
the few words of doom, the refrain of a denunciation sounding 
through the infinitudes and irreversible for ever; and when 
we contrast with that cry the minutes-from-the-last-meeting- 
like commencement of Storm's message to the wicked, we 
can only wonder that men of intelligence should try their hand 
on the working out of conceptions so certain to suggest com- 
parison with the unapproachable. 

We are sure that the novel will interest many, and we con- 
sider that the author possesses remarkable powers of description, 
apart from the relation of scene to character. Glory's letters, 
as we have already hinted, are dull and flippant, though intended 
to be witty and graceful, elaborated obviously where their pur- 


pose is to flash out the splendid audacity of the writer; and in 
truth Glory has this audacity in the artistic sense, for she is a 
real woman, wild, attractive, and eminently natural at times. 

The life story of Brother Azarias* could not be better told 
than it is by Dr. Smith. He possessed special qualifications 
for the task. A personal friend of Azarias, he was nearer to him 
than the writer who ordinarily executes this class of work ; a 
literary man and a priest, he should know something of the 
actions and reactions that fill so large and trying a part of the 
life of the religious who is a literary man, and, finally, his mind 
is cast in that somewhat critical mould in which the bump of 
veneration is not abnormally developed, although a rich spirit of 
appreciation may be found in it at the same time. He very 
clearly shows love of the memory of his dead friend, but the 
attitude inseparable from the critical turn we speak of does 
not permit him to say more than he would take from another 
without some objection. Throughout the book there is this 
tone of reserve, and it makes the volume one to be relied upon 
to the extent of the writer's knowledge. 

Azarias' life is of value as evidence of what simple strength 
and earnestness can accomplish in the removal of prejudice. 
This is a great step towards the instruction of our age. Men 
seek truth, but it is hard to find it by the light of reason when 
so many influences are present to obscure it. We have it 
abiding in the world in the Catholic Church ; yet in this 
country the vast majority look upon the church as its enemy, 
the best among them believe that the church only possesses 
that amount of it inseparable from any system which has, 
even for an hour, won acceptance from bodies of men, and that 
the good lives of Catholics are to be explained to a large 
extent by a theory of natural virtue operating in opposition 
to the tenets of the church. They are good men, not because 
they are Catholics, but in spite of their being Catholics. Such 
a man as Azarias, whose life and writings are the expression 
of the practical thought of the church, helps to correct such a 
view ; because he himself, with a clear hold of sound philosophy, 
lived and wrote in accordance with that philosophy, which in 
its turn is the church's interpretation in secular language of the 
problem of life and of society. 

The reasonableness of morality can only be understood as 
something eternal and immutable that is, something prior to 

* Brother Azarias : The Life Story of an American Monk. By Rev. John Talbot Smith, 
LL.D. New York : William H. Young & Co. 


society and independent of it a rule of life to be followed by 
Robinson Crusoe on a desert island, where he has no social 
obligations, as strictly as the rule which attaches obligation to 
his fellows the moment he returns to his place among them. 
This is the Catholic attitude which the Founder of the Church 
directed in and by his life, and which she is bound to insist 
upon, because she is the continuing instrument of his life on 
earth. He still lives on earth in his church, and the philosophy 
of life which she consecrates is his philosophy. It seems very 
plain that it is the only sound one ; and with a simple truth 
like this realized by a man with Azarias' power of exposition, 
and underlying all that he says, we are not surprised at what 
Dr. Smith tells us about the effect that his ways produced on 
men who met him, and his essays on those who fairly read them. 

He thought clearly because the fundamental principle was 
clear, he spoke and wrote so as to convince because his wide 
and accurate knowledge enabled him to see where the errors 
of others' reasonings lay, and he did both with such a spirit of 
charity that it was obvious he did not aim at victory but per- 
suasion. So we have a very beautiful character amid the 
aesthetics which are only lovely by convention. We have a 
testimony to the beauty of the soul, which is a beauty apart 
from the external garb, which owes nothing necessarily to 
material conceptions of harmony, though these are the chief, if 
not the sole, sources of the modern science of the beautiful. 
From the conception of beauty within him, Azarias found in 
poetry such as Browning's a grace and depth where others dis- 
covered obscurity and want of harmony. It is more than 
likely in such passages Browning himself did not take in the 
full suggestion of his own thought, that he had only the 
partial discernment of the truth he preached a degree of it 
which every poet must possess if he stirs one heart or arrests 
one intellect ; but to Azarias they seemed so clear through their 
inter-relations that he thought all should see them as well. 

The reader will be delighted with this biography. Even if 
Brother Azarias were not as successful in literature as he proved 
himself, we should be thankful for the affection which caused 
Dr. Smith to give us this biography. We see a good deal of 
his own frank character in the performance not obtrusively, 
'not unconsciously either, for he very distinctly knows the effect 
of every sentence and this gives it a great charm almost like 
that of a conversation with the subject of the memoir him- 
self. The effect produced upon Dr. Smith by his intimacy 


with the man is reflected throughout ; so that we have a pic- 
ture of him as real as Boswell's Johnson or Fitzpatrick's Life 
of Dr. Doyle. Our impression is that Mr. Fitzpatrick never met 
Dr. Doyle could not have met him, in fact but by the marvel- 
lous power of assimilating materials for biography he was gifted 
with, he produced a work hardly second to Boswell's. Dr. 
Smith enjoyed the advantage of close contact with his subject, 
and we think he can handle materials left as skilfully as Fitz- 
patrick. We have in the result a most agreeable, and in some 
respects a very instructive work. 

Just to slightly indicate our meaning, we refer to the chap- 
ter entitled "Table-Talk." In this Dr. Smith tells what Azarias 
thought would be the great epic that should leave Homer, Vir- 
gil, Dante, and Milton " far behind." The editor and the sub- 
ject of the biography were only discussing the possibilities for 
such an epic. Azarias gave the opinion that the great epic of 
human history would be a summary of the spiritual life: " a 
soul carried through the purgative, illuminative, and unitive 
conditions, and closing its career in heaven, whose splendid ac- 
tivities would find some description in the poem." 

There is a revelation of the man, with regard to his age, in 
this observation, which could only be transmitted in the casual 
utterances of acquaintance. No man would say a thing like 
this in a work for publication ; the scoffer of all things is abroad 
as well as the school-master, and so ridicule would kill it. But 
it has a profound meaning. He thought that such a poem would 
be the manifestation of the triumph of Christianity over a god- 
less and material world ; in it he heard the song of the heart 
so long imprisoned in formulas whose sanction was an irresisti- 
ble force of social wrong that quenched the spirit of the just 
and humane, and compelled them to close their ears to blas- 
phemies against God and shut their eyes on inhumanity to 
man. In bringing about such a consummation Azarias has done 
a man's part, though great quarterlies have not thundered about 
him, or learned societies of the old world and the new admit- 
ted him to their honorary freemasonry. Indeed, it is because 
he sought that consummation he was not noticed by them no 
more than, as he well pointed out, the whole circle of Catholic 
thought was noticed by them. He saw how the men of science 
and the literary men of great cities, the lights of the world 
who knew so much, missed the great fact of the Church among 
them ; one hand resting on the vanished civilizations of the 
remote past, the other on the little child born in poverty and 


carried to the baptismal font amid the curses, the thefts, the 
loud lies, the profligacy, and the race for wealth which con- 
stitute the civilization of to-day. With wonder and pity he saw 
these guides of a moribund world leading it down the primrose- 
path with their sophisms of convenient morality, interested jus- 
tice, complacent virtue, with their theories of legislative might 
constituting right, their creed of free competition being the rob- 
bery of the poor, with their apotheosis of wealth, their false 
aesthetics, with all that renders that which is tangible to the eye 
and hand the only beauty and truth. 

We recommend Dr. Smith's work with confidence to our 
readers. Those who had the good fortune of knowing Azarias 
will meet him again in these pages with his wise smile, his charity 
that spoke no evil, his rare conversational powers that delight- 
ed ear and mind, and to others as well as to these will come 
the ripe scholar, the sage and ,saint of his writings. 

The preface to this book * is by Father Rivington, who say 
he has no hesitation in introducing it to the public. Coming 
recommended by such an authority, the book must be a safe 
one, and, moreover, it must have value of some kind as the tran- 
script of experiences in the evolution of thought and the action 
of grace, the combined influence of which led a minister of ten 
years standing in the Established Church of England to the 
Catholic Church. Historical conversion is, of course, a most im- 
portant study from the ecclesiastical and political points of view; 
but its utility to the inquirer, bewildered in the midst of contend- 
ing claims, is not so obvious. There are minds so constituted 
that they would be led into the church by the history of great 
movements ; but there are not many such minds, precisely for 
this reason, that as the basis for faith any useful inference from the 
conversion of masses of men, surrounded by different conditions 
from one's own, requires the most exact knowledge of the events 
of the time and the power of seeing their relations to each other. 

But there is one class of evidence which he who runs may 
read ; and that is the honest account of mental experiences, the 
unfolding of one's struggles, of his troubles of all kinds from 
the contact of the spirit within with the facts without, or, as 
our friends the evolutionists would say in their jargon, often so 
unmeaning, the adjustment of 'the individual to his environ- 
ment. How is an honest man to become adjusted to a great 
injustice ? a truthful man to an established lie, even though it has 

* Ten Years in Anglican Orders. By "Viator." London: Catholic Truth Society; 
Catholic Book Exchange, 120 West 6oth St., New York. 


its worship in the high places, and priests who eat of the fat 
of the land and drink of the sweet and strong, even the sweet 
wine upon the lees? We believe there are honest and truthful 
men in the English Establishment, men who have no doubt of 
their position; but when doubt begins and grows into certainty 
with one, that one is in the wrong place, we should like 
to know how a weak man's life is to react upon and mould the 
huge mass of a fabric whose prestige is great and whose wealth 
immense? He must escape from it, or surrender his soul to 
formulas cold and cruel to himself because of their falsehood, and 
to the crime of insisting upon them as the guides to others in the 
one matter which is the supreme concern of existence. The 
writer of the little book before us is a witness to such a conflict. 

There is a terrible, a tragic interest in this story of strug- 
gle, the most valuable years of a life apparently blighted as by 
some malignant power, but in reality controlled by God, until 
the difficulties and trials ended in the land promised to all who 
are obedient to his calls. The rest that descended upon him 
when he found the truth is the reward below, and the presage of 
the reward in the world to come if he be faithful to his grace. 

In his first chapter, which tells of his ordination to the 
ministry by the Established Church, he states that he was older 
than men usually are when they seek ordination in it, that his 
mind was open in the matter of doctrinal religion and the sys- 
tematic definitions of revealed truth ; but that he was anxious to 
gain a real insight into the system and principles of the church 
whose minister he was about to become. We have his word for 
an early tendency to think seriously of life and death and of in- 
dividual moral responsibility. He was fortunate in clearly re- 
cognizing facts of moral consciousness involving primary truths 
for which the rationalistic philosophies of life failed to account. 

This mental attitude, we think, is important in dealing with 
his testimony concerning the processes by which his conversion 
was wrought under the operation of God's grace. So far as 
the naked facts testify to the quality and condition of his 
mind, we see no reason, in the light of experience of other 
minds, why he was not led to atheism, or why he did not find 
in the Establishment the contentment of a respectable exist- 
ence. Given the limited and rudimentary knowledge of God 
and our relation to him which the facts of the inner conscious- 
ness bring to the mind, this knowledge is only logically con- 
sistent with a fuller revelation than the facts of consciousness 
can supply. But men are not always logically consistent, and 
there are some who, strangely enough, would find in so small a 

1 897-] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 131 

degree of knowledge the pessimistic conclusion that life is a 
tangled affair at the best, so hopeless a puzzle that there is 
nothing to be relied upon except science ; and there are others 
who would rest content with making the best of what they 
had, treading in their father's footsteps to the extent of imita- 
tion, even though they had secretly abandoned their father's 
belief, and leaving to death the solution of the problem. 

We have said so much to help our readers in coming to our 
conclusion that " Viator " is a valuable witness to the truth 
that God has revealed himself, and guides his church in the 
preservation and definition of what he has revealed. If there 
be problems involved in the facts of the consciousness, if there 
be a knowledge of divine things carried by them to the intel- 
lect, and this knowledge only leaves a hunger in the sgul, a 
yearning for fuller and more explicit knowledge, it would seem 
that God must have provided some means to supply such 
knowledge. This, we hold, is the way to argue the matter; 
and this is what our author has evidently done, although he 
does not give, he has no need to give, us all the steps of the 
process. The moment we get from the facts within the con- 
sciousness, the knowledge of certain relations to them, we have 
some law that condemns one class of acts and approves of 
another, and the responsibility of the individual for his acts. 
Where is the account to be demanded ? It is only for known 
acts that responsibility to the external forum attaches; it is 
more than conceivable that for acts condemned by conscience, 
but only known to it, or at least not provable in the external 
forum, a man may escape punishment in this life. But respon- 
sibility attaches to his acts ; consequently it must be exacted 
in the life to come. Now we are face to face with the mys- 
teries of life and death, and the relation of man to God, who 
governs these mysteries man's relation to a Power that sways 
all that is folded in them ; but we want more light, and we 
think such a Power should, from the law of his being, give it. 
He must be just ; that much we have in the fundamental prin- 
ciples of morality. We have it in the sense ^i duty we all 
possess and from which we know there is no escape ; in that 
spirit of justice to which we appeal in others, though we so 
often violate it ourselves ; we have it in our admiration of vir- 
tues entailing sacrifice, though we may not practise them ; in 
our reverence for great souls, though we cannot or we will not 
imitate their heroism. But we are groping in the dark; why 
does not such Power give light ? The pale beam of reason 
within me only makes the misery, the sin and crime, the suffer- 


ing and sorrow darker still. Better the blind life within the 
brutes, because not vexed by such problems of despair. 

Consequently, it is to be expected that such light would be 
given by God ; and we think that the system which says he 
has given it is the only rational philosophy, and that having 
given the light, it should be seen. We say that this is the true 
Light that enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world ; 
and taking this fact of the coming of the Light and the history 
of the church, with the revelations inherited by her from the 
primal world, the philosophical test of a sound theory is satis- 
fied, namely : Does it account for the phenomena we want to 
have explained ? 

Our author in this early time had, as he informs us, become 
convinced that Christianity was the one power in human life to 
ease the pain, to fill the void which lay at the root of all the 
evils by which it is beset. The reader may perceive that the 
temper of his mind was rationalistic, though he was no mere 
Rationalist, and that to such a temper a narrow view of the 
scope of revelation and of the direct continuous action of God 
on the church would commend itself. To such a mind the 
severe outlines of Evangelical practice would be preferable to 
the stately ceremonial which seems best placed in "the dim 
religious light " of Gothic windows, the forest-like gloom of 
upper spaces, the long vistas of the columns, the solemn gran- 
deur of a thousand years. Therefore he comes out with the 
superadded credit of a hostile witness anxious to believe an- 
other thing and tell it ; and for this and the other considera- 
tions mentioned we accept him as a capable witness to facts 
of an intellect under the action of God's grace. These facts 
themselves are very consoling when we see in society so much 
to foster the despair of the pessimist and afford food for the 
mockery of the sceptic. 

We are sure our readers have not come across for some 
time anything more likely to interest and instruct them than 
Ten Years in Anglican Orders. We have a chapter telling the 
difficulties of his second curacy, another with the title, almost 
pathetic " Drifting." Here we find him on the right track, 
having become convinced that in a religion so distinctly histori- 
cal as the Anglo-Catholic it should be possible to ascertain, 
by an historical method of research, what the early undivided 
church had taught ; and he enters on such a method to obtain 
the requisite information. 

The remaining chapters are : " My Incumbency," " Almost 
Persuaded," "On the Threshold of the Church," " At Peace," 

1 897.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 133 

and we ask our readers of all classes to obtain this little work, 
which we have no hesitation in saying will be found a very 
valuable manual of Catholic as distinct from Protestant doc- 
trine, without purporting to be such, and a very entertaining 
autobiography of ten years of a life torn by conflicts of the 
mind and heart conflicts that made for him a very confessor's 
robe of pain and fidelity. 

Of the value and importance of this work, now in its fourth 
edition, there can, of course, be no doubt. It is by no means 
something merely of use to those who are learned and spe- 
cially interested in canon law ; but it is eminently practical, and 
we may say necessary, at any rate as a work of reference, for 
all who have occasion to use the faculties of which it treats ; 
that is, to the great majority of the clergy of this country. 
The cases in which these faculties are to be used are often 
necessarily very complicated, and even in the simpler ones grave 
mistakes may easily be made by those merely familiar with the 
treatment of these subjects found in the ordinary manuals. 

Numerous improvements and additions have been made in 
this edition over those which have previously appeared, and 
the work is probably as perfect and satisfactory as anything 
which could have been prepared on the important subject with 
which it is concerned. 

To give some idea of how very practical this manual is to the 
priest engaged in active ministerial work, a cursory view of the 
subjects treated may be useful. There are very fully discussed 
the intricate questions of matrimonial dispensations questions 
that are now growing more and more important owing to the num- 
ber of converts received into the church as well as to the in- 
creasing laxity of. the marriage obligations of those outside the 
church ; the important question of dispensation from interpella- 
tion ; and there are also chapters referring to the establishment 
of confraternities and the aggregation of the same. All these 
important questions come more or less frequently into the lives 
of clergy who have even an ordinary parochial charge, and to 
those with the most limited cure of souls these questions are 
often up for discussion in the conferences of the clergy. For 
these and for many other reasons this Commentary on the Apos- 
tolic Faculties is extremely useful to the priests of the country. 

* Comment arium in Facilitates Abostolicas concinnatum ab Antonio Konings^ C.SS.R. 
Editio quarta curante, Joseph Putzer, C.SS.R. New York : Benziger Brothers. 

THEOSOPHY bids fair to be one of the fads 
this winter. It shines with a good deal of the re- 
flected light of Christianity, and will attract, there- 
fore, many of the intellectual moths. But all is dark within 
and the other side is scarred with the burnt-out fires of passion. 
We commend the thoughtful article published in this number. 

The recent Catholic Scientific Congress at Fribourg, in 
Switzerland, is commanding international attention. The rev- 
erent spirit which animated the members of the congress in 
their discussion of the religious problems which lie on the bor- 
derland of science, as well as the profound up-to-date and ex- 
haustive knowledge manifested in the discussion of purely sci- 
entific subjects, show that the Catholic scholars of Europe are 
fully awake to the great questions of the day. Social ques- 
tions came in for a very large share of attention. It is in such 
gatherings as these, when one studies the broad and progressive 
spirit displayed, that one sees to what extent the master-mind 
of Leo has dominated the intellectual life of the age. For the 
first time American scholars took a large part in the discus- 
sions. The University at Washington, young as it is, is making 
itself felt in the intellectual and scientific world. 

We shall publish in the near future a masterly review of 
the religious situation in England from the pen of Rev. 
Luke Rivington. The movement towards ecclesiasticism, in- 
volving a clearer idea of sacrifice and the need of a con- 
secrated and consecrating priesthood, has been going on with 
ever-increasing momentum during the last fifty years. It has 
intellectually and spiritually changed four-fifths of the Anglican 
ministry. While rushing on with all the height and strength of 
a tidal wave, it has met with a rockfaced barrier in the Papal 
Encyclical condemning Anglican orders. What will be the 
outcome ? Father Rivington, and there is none more capable, 
will discuss this burning question in an early number of this 




HENRY AUSTIN ADAMS was born in Santiago de Cuba on 
September 20, 1861, and baptized on the Feast of the Circum- 
cision next following, in the cathedral of that ancient Spanish 
city. His father was William Newton Adams, of the firm of 
Moses Taylor & Co., of New York, whose interests were 
largely in the West Indies. His mother was Maria del Carmen 
Michelena, of the old and powerful family of that name in 
Venezuela. She lived and died a Catholic. After the death of 
his parents Henry Austin Adams was sent to school in Balti- 
more, and there received his first external impressions of Catho- 
licism. He was educated by private tutors after leaving school, 
until ready to enter the General Theological Seminary (Epis- 
copalian) in New York. He was graduated with honors from 
this college in 1892, and was soon after ordained to the minis- 
try of the Episcopalian Church. He was successively rector of 
churches in Wethersfield, Conn., and Great Barrington, Mass. 
After being a few months in charge of All Saints' Cathedral, 
Albany, he was appointed preacher at " Old Trinity," New York 
City, where he remained over three years. He then became 
rector of St. Paul's Cathedral, Buffalo, which he left to come 
to his last charge, the Church of the Redeemer, New York. 

While connected with this parish Mr. Adams became con- 
vinced of the divine claims of the Catholic Church, and resigned 
his position in July, 1893, in order to seek admission to the 
one fold. 

Mr. Adams married, in 1883, Miss Flora Carleton Butler, of 
Brooklyn, and a son and two daughters have blessed their 
union. He had the happiness of seeing his wife become a 
whole-souled Catholic at the time of his conversion, and, need- 
less to say, the children are being educated under Catholic in- 
fluences. Mr. Adams is now lecturing professionally. 

Miss LILIAN A. B. TAYLOR began to compose at the age 
of seven. She " lisped in numbers" before she was able to 
commit the "lispings" to paper. It was as wondrous as it was 
interesting to see her in those early years, when called 
from playing " horsey" or " pussy," stand up and deliver, 





"trippingly on the tongue," her last composition. If there 
should happen any defect in rhythm or metre, she was the 
first to detect the fault, and she alone was permitted to make 
the correction. 

Her mother generally com- 
mitted to paper her lines, after 
she (Lilian) had composed and 
polished them. These com- 
positions had so accumulated 
that it was thought well by her 
friends to preserve them. So 
in her fourteenth year a col- 
lection was made of these verses, 
and they were published by G. 
P. Putnam's Sons, in a neat lit- 
tle volume, under the appro- 
priate title of May Blossoms, by 
" Lilian." 

While the child's most ar- 
dent admirers would not claim 
for these pieces anything 
bordering on perfection, and while some, as might be ex- 
pected, betrayed the simplicity and inexperience of the mere 
child, yet others, even of those written before her twelfth 
year, are truly remarkable, and lead one to believe that the 
genius of Poesy must have been present with her guardian 
angel at her entrance into this world of prose. Although 
not yet out of her "teens," some really beautiful pieces from 
her pen have appeared in our leading Catholic magazines 

Miss Lilian is of good descent, her mother being a daughter 
of the distinguished Commodore Bullus, of the United States 
Navy; and her father, Dr. Taylor, also of the Navy, being a 
cousin of the poet, Bayard Taylor. 

In consequence of a delicate constitution and highly nervous 
temperament, in her earlier years Miss Lilian could not, with- 
out injury to her health, be sent to school. Her first rudi- 
ments were received at home, at first under the care of a loving 
mother, and later under the tuition of a governess. 

At the age of thirteen she entered the Academy of Mount 
de Chantal, Wheeling, West Virginia, conducted by the Sisters 
of the Visitation. After a distinguished course of four years at 
this institution, Miss Taylor was graduated with the highest 

1 897.] 


honors of the academy on June 13, 1894, when but seventeen 
years old, having been born September 4, 1876. 

Since her return to her home in New York Miss Taylor has 
written some, chiefly for her own amusement, or for the pleas- 
ure of the earlier admirers of her genius. She is now, how- 
ever, naturally ambitious to occupy a place among the writers 
of the day. She has all the necessary ability, and with a little 
encouragement we doubt not that she will succeed in attaining 
that eminence for which she is so well fitted by her natural 
genius and acquirements. 

E. M. LYNCH describes herself, in a recent racy letter, as 
"an object-lesson in Irish history." In the diary of her great- 
uncle, Warren Johnson, an en- 
try explains the anglicizing of 
" MacShane " into " Johnson," 
and the previous arbitrary sup- 
pression by English policy of all 
historic, patriotic names which 
had forced his ancestor son of 
that O'Neill who fought against 
Elizabeth and was murdered by 
Scots at Dungannon to call 
himself simply Mac (son of) 
Shane (John). It is not com 
monly known that at one period 
England forbade the use of all 
such patronymics as had historic 
or martial associations for the 
Irish. In pursuance of this sys- 
tem, the dwellers in one Irish 
district were ordered, one and 
Green ; in another, Black ; in 

Warrenstown, County Meath, Ireland. 

all, to assume the name of 
part of Ulster, White. The 
statute took no account of former appellations. 

"Thus," says Mrs. Lynch, " I was born Johnson by the power 
of England, but O'Neill I am by favor of Heaven ! " 

Another great-uncle was Sir William Johnson, known in 
American-Indian warfare, and the " Sir William " of Robert 
Louis Stevenson's Master of Ballantrae. 

Mrs. Lynch has delighted in writing from her childhood. 
At thirteen she was busily writing a novel which a merry-hearted 
governess used to extract piecemeal from her school-room desk 
and read aloud to the family, when the juvenile aspirant was safe 


in bed. Later on she began to write successfully for monthly 
magazines, but the final stamp was perhaps given to the char- 
acter of her work by an interview with the then editor of a 
great London daily, whose identity will easily be guessed by 
our readers. Mrs. Lynch having written an article for his 
paper which had been accepted, presented herself with the 
proof and was sent for by the editor, with the explanation that 
he liked to know his contributors personally. He delivered 
" a most eloquent sermon " to her on the aims and duties of a 
journalist, winding up with the query, " Is it for mere vanity 
you wish to write? Or why do you want to be a journalist?" 
She replied that she wished to be a journalist because she 
would thus be able to "help every cause she cared about," and 
that she especially looked towards his paper because it was 
always fighting for justice to women and justice to Ireland, 
and she, in her humble way, was also fighting for both. 
Whereat the great man bade her go on and prosper, and so 
long as he edited a daily paper made her free of its columns 
occasionally. She wrote for the same journal under his suc- 
cessor and for other newspapers. 

Mrs. Lynch published her first book, The Boygod, Trouble- 
some and Vengeful, three years ago. She has also adapted 
A Parish Providence from a novel of Balzac's for the " New 
Library of Ireland," and a third work, Killboylan Bank ah ac- 
count of how some Irish peasants and other characters con- 
cerned themselves about " co-operative credit " has just been 
published in the " Village Library." 

Mrs. Lynch's permanent residence is in Warrenstown, Coun- 
ty Meath, Ireland ; but she is at present staying in Italy and 
writing steadily for the periodical press. 


REV. GEORGE DESHON was elected Superior-General of the Paulists during 
the sessions of the General Chapter which closed Thursday morning, September 9. 
At the close of the last session the affecting ceremony of " installation "took place. 
The newly-elected Superior, seated, received the members of the Community one 
by one, each one as he stood before him kissing his hand in token of obedience 
and receiving from him the fraternal embrace in token of the bond of brother- 
hood existing in the Community. 

Father Deshon is the last surviving member of the original founders of the 
Paulist Community, and the superiorship fell to him by natural lot. Although a 
man of seventy-five years of age, he wears his years well, and is as active in mind 
and as vigorous in step as men twenty-five years his junior. He was born in 
New London, Conn., of Huguenot stock. In his adolescence he was sent to the 
West Point Military Academy, entered the same class with General Grant and 
others of military fame, was graduated with distinction, and for five years was 
professor at the Academy. About this time, as happened with so many of his 
generation, the deeper thoughts of the religious life entered his soul ; he sought 
for the truth and found it in the teachings of the Catholic Church. Desiring a 
more perfect life, he entered the novitiate of the Redemptorist Fathers, and was 
ordained a priest among them in 1855. After his ordination he immediately en- 
tered on the work of giving missions, and continued to be exclusively so occupied 
until the separation from the Redemptorists of the five missionaries who or- 
ganized themselves into what is now the Congregation of St. Paul, or the Paulist 
Fathers. t 

As a Paulist, Father Deshon 's life-work began in reality. He continued as a 
missionary his efficient work begun as a Redemptorist, and became known from 
one part of the country to the other as a preacher and instructor of exceptional 
ability. The work of giving the early morning instruction fell to him on account 
of his peculiar talents and his general adaptability, and thousands throughout the 
country will recall with interest the sturdy form and high, strong voice giving the 
five o'clock instruction, and remember the many touching and interesting stories 
told by him, from " the man overboard " to the serving girl who struck the impru- 
dent suitor with the fire-tongs. 

Besides his career as a missionary, Father Deshon was always the matter-of- 
fact man of affairs about the Paulist establishment at Fifth-ninth Street. He was 
gifted very largely with the constructive faculty, and the big stone church of the 
Paulist Fathers, as well as the surrounding buildings, have all been built under 
his immediate superintendence. It was a familiar sight fifteen or twenty years 
ago, when the church was' in course of erection, to see Father Deshon in and 
out among the working-men, directing here and advising there ; and if the people 
of the Paulist parish can point with pride to a massive church and splendid school 
and printing-house, it is because Father Deshon has had a very large share in the 
management of things. His practical turn of mind very largely supplemented 
Father Hecker's original views and Father Hewit's scholarly talents. What is 


said of Father Deshon's talent as a builder may also be said of his economical 
and prudent management as a financier. 

Father Deshon's military training at West Point seemed to be so inbred in 
his bones that it has become a marked feature, both of his physical bearing and 
his mental make-up. The cognomen of " soldier priest " has had a peculiar fit- 
ness in its application to him. The strict discipline of his early life has given him 
a hardy nature, a brusque manner, an austere exterior, but under all this there is 
the warmth and affection of a generous and devoted heart. To many, on first 
acquaintanceship, he seems cold and severe, but once the external reserve is 
penetrated, one finds within a cordiality and friendliness that are very attractive. 

During the last years of Father Hewit's superiorship, what with a disinclina- 
tion to interest himself in practical affairs, a residence at the University at Wash- 
ington, and later on, the declining years of feeble health, the immediate manage- 
ment of the affairs of the Paulists was delegated to Father Deshon, and his 
election as Superior-General means in no sense the inauguration of any new 
policy, but the carrying on with greater vigor of the special works that have been 
already initiated by the Paulists. The parochial works, with their large element 
of social betterment and their endeavor to bring to the masses the blessings of 
the religious life ; the temperance work, which has in it the possibilities of the 
social uplifting of the people, and other features of social reform so absolutely 
necessary in this city if we would save it for God, and the people to a Christian 
life all these will be continued with greater practical effectiveness. Besides 
these home works, the work of the non-Catholic missions, which have met with 
such marvellous success during the last few years, will be pushed with the same 
energy as in the past, and the work of the Apostolate of the Press carried out 
through the printing-house, which was started under Father Deshon's direction, 
will claim more and more the endeavors of the ones who have it immediately 
under their superintendence. 

If Father Deshon could indulge a little vanity, he might look back with pride 
to the special works that have been started under his direction during the last 
few years. An article in the September number of the American Ecclesiastical 
Review says that " the activity of the Paulist Fathers in the fulfilment of their 
external vocation has radiated chiefly in eight directions," and mentions these 
eight avenues of work to be ist, The preaching of missions to the faithful; 2d, 
The splendor and exactness in carrying out the church's ceremonial ; 3d, In the 
reform of church music ; 4th, In opposition to intemperance and the liquor-traffic ; 
5th, In the elevation of sermonic standards and the encouragement of Catholic 
literature ; 6th, The Apostolate of the Press, represented by their printing-house, 
which during the last year sent out over a million books, pamphlets, etc. yth, 
The preaching of missions to non-Catholics ; 8th, The formation of the Catholic 
Missionary Union and the publication of The Missionary, its official organ. It is 
not claimed in any sense that Father Deshon originated all these special move- 
ments, but under his broad, liberal, and approving administration they have 
grown of themselves and are calculated in the years to come to work out their 
best results. 

The aforementioned article in the Ecclesiastical Review concludes by say- 
ing : " The Paulist Congregation is not stagnant. Not in purpose, in numbers, 
nor in good works is it quiescent. It is steadily moving forward, according to its 
means, its opportunities, and the co-operation of the rest of the Church in the 
United States, towards the consummation of its apostolic vocation the conver- 
sion of non-Catholic America." 



READING Circle Day at the Champlain Assembly was celebrated on August 
20. Short addresses bearing on the reports presented by the representa- 
tives of Reading Circles were delivered by the President of the Summer-School, 
Rev. M. J. Lavelle, LL.D. ; Rev. John Talbot Smith, LL.D., and the Rev. Thomas 
McMillan, C.S.P., representing the Columbian Reading Union. Fourteen Read- 
ing Circles were reported from New York City, while Philadelphia showed 
twenty-three, with a membership of over six hundred. Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy, 
of Altoona, gave an instructive statement of the assistance rendered by the 
Reading Circle under his charge in the work of university extension lectures. 
Mr. Warren E. Mosher, in his annual report, announced the gratifying news that 
four hundred and thirty-six Reading Circles had been formed. His statement 
opened an animated discussion on the best ways and means to extend the 
movement. The fact was developed that in many family groups the Reading- 
Circle plans are followed ; the same is true of numerous individuals living in 
small towns and rural districts where the formation of a circle is impossible. 
It was announced that the following subjects would be outlined in the pages of 
the Reading Circle Review during the coming year : 

Poetical Epochs, 

Practical Art Studies, 

English Literature, 

Controverted Points in Church History, 

Current Social Problems, 

Scientific Studies, 

French Language and Literature. 

Any one desiring more information regarding the plan to be followed in 
starting a Reading Circle, or in getting suggestions on new lines of study for 
self-improvement, should enclose at least ten cents in postage and write at once 
to Mr. Warren E. Mosher, Youngstown, Ohio. From him also may be obtained 
sample copies of the Reading Circle Review, and the official report of the 
Summer-School Lectures. 

* * * 

One of the most - interesting reports was presented by Miss Anna M. 
Mitchell, representing the Fenelon Reading Circle of Brooklyn, N. Y. It is here 
given to aid others in forming plans for the coming year : 

The work that the Fenelon Reading Circle has accomplished during the past 
year shows no retrogradation, but a continuous movement onward and upward. 
The membership at present is three hundred and twenty-five, two hundred and 
seventy-five associate and fifty active members, with a waiting list occasioned 
by the fact that our active membership is limited. The subject which received 
careful attention from the members during the past year was Buddhism, con- 
sidered chiefly from the stand-point of its relation to Christianity. Ten carefully 
prepared papers were read by the members at the business meetings during the 
year. They comprised such subjects as reviews of Schlachtenweit's work on 
Buddhism, and Father Clarke's Essay on Theosophy, and the Abbe Huck's 


Journey in Thibet. We closed our year's work with a study of Edwin Arnold's 
two poems, " The Light of Asia" and "The Light of the World," on which a 
critical essay was written. We had six lectures during the year, which were 
given by prominent laymen and clerics of Brooklyn and New York, and two 
distinctly social entertainments, one of the latter being a reception to the Rev. 
M. J. Lavelle, LL.D., president of the Catholic Summer-School, and the other 
was a reception to the Right Rev. Charles McDonnell, D.D., Bishop of Brooklyn. 
During the past year we became affiliated with the New York State Federa- 
tion of Women's Clubs. We are the only distinctly Catholic society in this organ- 
ization and joined it at the earnest solicitation of the officers of the Federation. 
This indicates that the F6nelon has a well-recognized position among the leading 
women's societies of the State. We endeavor to always keep in mind that as a 
representative body of Catholic women we should preserve somewhat of a con- 
servative position among women's clubs ; and while showing at all times a ready 
and willing spirit to engage in any movement that will tend to enlarge the 
sympathy of women, and call into play the noblest instincts for the uplifting of 
our sex, we systematically frown down the blatant element, which makes 
woman a spectacle for public ridicule rather than a refined and quiet influence 
for good in the community. In this respect we hope to prove an object-lesson to 
some of our sister societies of non-Catholic women. The Fenelon is fast 
assuming proportions that will make it, in the very near future, far too un- 
wieldy. We were, therefore, pleased to observe during the past year the birth of 
new Reading Circles in Brooklyn which were offshoots of the parent stem. There 
is abundant material in our city for many circles, and if the Fenelon succeeds in 
generating leaders who will take up the good work and form local branches in 
different parishes, we shall regard these circles with a spirit of parental pride and 
at all times extend to them the assistance which our greater experience, rather 
than our greater wisdom, has enabled us to dispense to others. The Fenelon 
stands out somewhat conspicuously among the Reading Circles for its' rather 
unique plan of organization, and its vitality is largely, if not entirely, due to this 
system of organization. Under it each member feels that she has a governing 
voice in the proceedings of the society. Individual hobbies must be kept sub- 
servient to the will of the majority, and it is only by giving every member an 
opportunity to voice her sentiments in executive session and seal it by a yea and 
nay vote that this can be accomplished. Parliamentary tactics, if judiciously 
used, cannot fail to facilitate the transaction of business. Like every other good 
thing it may be abused, and it then behooves the members to bring into use the 
leaven of common sense and administer the check that will adjust the pendulum 
if it has swung too far in one direction. Organization is looked at askance by 
some promoters of Reading Circles, because they fear it will cause the develop- 
ment of what is labelled the " strong-minded woman." In this age of the higher 
education of women, when even our Catholic University is throwing open her 
doors to us and urging us to come in, surely no woman worthy of the name of 
Catholic desires to be considered feeble-minded. Between the blatant woman of 
the public platform, who keeps up a constant clamor for her rights, and the super- 
ficial society woman there is a happy medium which might be designated the 
common-sense woman. It has been said that " common sense is a most un- 
common thing"; but there is nothing that will develop this desirable quality 
more effectively among our women than a judicious method of organization and 
legislation in our Reading Circles. The assignment of different matters pertain- 


ing to the interests of the society to small committees divides up the labor and 
enables more ground to be covered than could possibly be compassed by one 
person. When the chairman of a committee makes a report, she is obliged to 
formulate the information received in concise language, and this is of as much 
educational value as the writing of an essay. She learns the value of promptness 
when she is obliged to have this report ready at a specified time. Methodical 
discipline of this nature is sadly needed among our women. The Fenelon not 
only aspires to develop literary taste among its members but to develop all the 
best faculties in the possession of women for the transaction of business matters. 
The term of office is limited by our constitution to one year, and no officer can 
hold the same office more than two consecutive terms. This necessitates the 
development of new leaders who will be ready to take the reins of government 
in hand at the expiration of each term. In this way we act somewhat in the 
capacity of a training-school, not only utilizing for ourselves the talent we have 
developed, but sending out from our midst zealous workers to found other circles 
on the same plan. If the foundation of Reading Circles were solidly laid in this 
manner they would be able to withstand the storms of adversity. 

That is what the Fenelon has showed itself able to do ; and it has grown from 
a little band of wavering women five years ago to a powerful phalanx of three 
hundred and twenty-five women to-day, who stand ever ready to do earnest 
battle in the interest of Mother Church. 

* * * 

The Ozanam Reading Circle of New York City was represented by Miss 
Mary Burke. She read the following report for the season of 1896-97 : 

Addison says, " Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body." To 
determine how much of this intellectual exercise to take is one of the duties of 
the directors of Reading Circles. 

In the selection and guidance of its studies during the past year the Ozanam 
Reading Circle has had these points kept constantly before it by its worthy 
Reverend Director. Some of the principles that have been inculcated might be 
stated as follows : 

Read something every day. Think deeply while reading. 

" Learn to read slow ; all other graces 
Will follow in their proper places." 

Read so as to be able to reproduce what has been read. Do not read to kill 
time. Mr. Henry Austin Adams remarked in one of his lectures that some peo- 
ple are so astonished at having an hour of leisure that they immediately proceed 
to kill it. 

The plan of holding a public meeting each month, to which were invited the 
honorary and associate members, has been carried out during the past year. 
The circle has been entertained and' instructed at these meetings by many able 
speakers and lecturers, among whom were : Miss Helena T. Goessman, Ph.B., 
who chose as her subject " My Impressions of the Summer-School " ; Rev. Fran- 
cis W. Howard on " The Development of Industries " ; Henry J. Heidenis, Ph.B. 
read a paper on " The Periodical Press " ; Mr. Alfred Young gave a masterful 
interpretation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream"; and Thomas S. O'Brien^ 
Ph.D., at the closing meeting on June 7, gave an appreciative exposition of the 
books and selections in a vast literary field which [would be most profitable 


As heretofore, the social gathering was held on Washington's Birthday, 
February 22, when jyijj- John Malone recited an original poem. 

The regular meetings were held every Monday evening, beginning at eight 
o'clock and la%ji% v ''one hour. At these meetings the members have become 
familiar with $bgie of the works of John B. Tabb, Richard Malcolm Johnston, 
James M. Bame/-^frs. A. Craven, George Meredith, Dante, Keats, Bryant, and 
Hawthorne. ' The severer work of critically examining the book or selection 
assigned for an evening's discussion was given to three members. The lighter 
task of selecting passages for quoting was left to the remaining members. In 
some cases a copy of the questions to be asked about an author's life and works 
was presented to each member, so that if the appointed member failed to give a 
correct answer, the others would be prepared. 

The amount of time given during the previous year to the reading of Church 
History was this year devoted to the book by Brother Azarias, Phases of Thought 
and Criticism. Five minutes each meeting were assigned to the actual reading, 
and the following five minutes were for the reproduction and individual com- 
ments on the selection read. A clear conception of the purpose and scope of this 
collection of essays is awakened by the fascinating pen of Rev. John Talbot 
Smith, LL.D., in his recently published book on the life of Brother Azarias. 

Dr. Smith holds that " ' The criticism that busies itself solely with the literary 
form is superficial. For food it gives husks.' . . . What a contrast to this 
spirit and method does the Phases of Thought and Criticism offer ! Topics 
which usually awaken the hidden prejudices of writers aroused in this monk no 
display of feeling. The spiritual sense, its nature and use, being his theme, he 
lays down his principles in the opening chapter. He devotes the second chapter 
to the reason, and gives suggestive paragraphs on thinking ; but he seems most 
concerned with hearty denunciation of mental lethargy as displayed in routine 
thinking, teaching, and studying. The chapter on habits of thought is one ot the 
best in the book. With the essay on the spiritual sense the constructive part of 
the book comes to an end. Brother Azarias next proceeds to illustrate his princi- 
ples by seeking out the spiritual significance of three master-pieces the Imita- 
tion of Christ, the Divina Commedia, and In Memoriam." 

All who would know the early social environment of Brother Azarias, its 
effect upon his character, his tenacious adherence to intellectual work and his 
love of study, and how accurately he prepared his criticisms of books, should read 
Dr. Smith's keen and scholarly presentation of the life and works of that great 
American monk, as he is called in this volume. 

Aside from the regular work on Monday evenings, the circle held a section 
for the reading of works on pedagogy. Those of the members and their friends 
who were interested in this study met Friday afternoon, twice a month, for six 
consecutive months. The meetings were presided over by Rev. Thomas McMillan, 
Director of the circle. The aim was to encourage the thorough study of four 
books, and by a close examination to select the most practical and profitable 

The good that has accrued to each individual member from the many advan- 
tages which the circle has enjoyed during the past season cannot be measured in 
a report. Emerson wisely says : " 'Tis the good reader that makes the good 
book. A good head cannot read amiss. In every book he finds passages which 
seem confidences, or asides, hidden from all else, and unmistakably meant for 
his ear." *** 



V r 


Bishop of Mobile, 
Sometime President of Mount St. Mary's College. 



VOL*. LXVI. NOVEMBER, 1897. No. 392. 

J\|o (^judgment lijay? <Af] (god, the dole 
f endless sinning of a soul! 

I o-day, to-morroW, for evermore, 

<A starless deep and an unseen sh,ore. 

Repentance rjone ; 

ilust a new sin when the old one's done. 

(yod Wit!] averted face 

(yod's sh,adoW on the race. 

1 errible is judgment yea, 

But more terrible no ^Judgment ||)ay ! 

If 1 be judged, 'tis Well ; 

1 he hea\?en 1 Wrought, 1 Wrought the hell. 

But if no judgment on me fall, 

Worse hell for qe, and Worse for all. 

I he kludge shall be the sinner's friend, 
Who of his sinning makes an, end. 

1 errible is judgment yea, 

But more terrible no ^Judgment l^ay ! 


Copyright. VERY REV. A. F. HEWIT. 1897. 



HE late Archbishop of Canterbury at the close 
of thirty years of labor finished his life of St. 
Cyprian.* He did not live to see it through 
the press, so it comes with a certain melancholy 
interest to the public, but spoiled, we fear, to 
candid minds by frequent touches of polemic bitterness. In 
the Introduction, which is an essay separated from the body of 
the book, he shows himself at home in that Proconsular Africa 
of which the Latin African was as proud as a Roman citizen 
of the Urbs, which he truly regarded as the centre of power and 

If we had a fair history of St. Cyprian's life the work would 
interest scholars as an account of the contact of a command- 
ing intellect with the political and social influences about him. 
Benson, however, uses Cyprian to assail the primacy of juris- 
diction of the Roman See, and he founds his arguments on 
some words which, he maintains, were interpolated into the 
text and used by the advisers of the Holy See at the Council 
of Trent. He illustrates his argument by a reference to the 
ancient Gallican liberties, but the connection of St. Cyprian 
with " the ancient Gallican liberties "f that is, the so-called liber- 
ties of the Church of France seems as close as the union between 
Nabuchodonosor and Columbus, which Max Adler weaves in 
one of his amusing papers. But people animated by religious 
prejudice will fail to see the absurdity, while the view Dr. Ben- 
son takes of the principles enunciated in Cyprian's writings in 
respect to a particular discussion at the last sitting of the 
Council of Trent owes all its controversial value to his blind 
or deliberate selection of an unscrupulous guide.;}: But we see 
nothing of the formative influence of St. Cyprian on the Church 
of Africa, though we are told of its power upon the universal 
Church ; and we are bid to believe that it survives in the epis- 
copate of the Church of England. Yet, we think, if that influ- 

*St. Cyprian: His Life, Times, and Work. By Edward White Benson, D.D., D.C.L., 
some time Archbishop of Canterbury. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 

t This matter, though irrelevant, is most unfairly stated. \ Sarpi. 


ence were powerful anywhere it would have been so in Africa; 
but the morality of its masses was hardly touched, so that 
when the Moslems came such Christianity as existed became 
easily their prey. 

Of course the church had done work in that proconsulate. 
The " unknown people " were among the population as in the 
city of Rome under the twelve Caesars. They were in some 
way recognizable before the time of St. Cyprian, in Carthage 
and the surrounding country. They were peaceful and law- 
abiding, but they stood in tranquil hostility to pagan rites and 
observances. Be/ore the public they were free from reproach, 
yet the public believed them guilty of secret crimes and abomi- 
nations. But coming to St. Cyprian's time, among the Latin 
stock, men of wealth and learning were beginning to be caught 
hold of. He himself is an instance of the kind. Among the 
lower ranks of the Latins the faith was spreading ; no house 
without a Christian son or a Christian slave, until at length 
we find traces of the faith even among the descendants of the 
Phoenicians and other races of which that population was com- 


The most brilliant lawyer of Africa, "nursery of pleaders," 
became a Christian and Bishop of Carthage. There is one for- 
mative influence which cannot be denied to the great convert : 
the power to define accurately according to the time and its 
needs, and a mastery of argument in support of doctrine and 
ecclesiastical policy which has not often been surpassed. In his 
tract on the Unity of the Church and in the letters of which this 
subject forms the burden we see two things very clearly great 
insight and great clearness of exposition. We recognize the 
evolution of doctrine in the sense of unfolding as distinguished 
from that of innovating ; we see that the views expressed are 
the fuller statement, according to the time and subject, of what 
had been always held, and not the note of novelty. If St. 
Cyprian be right in his views, Dr. Benson was wrong in his 
whole life as a clergyman and a bishop of the Church of Eng- 
land. If the episcopate begins with the successor of St. Peter, 
resting upon him as the foundation and the corner-stone, both 
together binding the undivided body into one,* what part of 
the edifice is occupied by the living stone that now wears the 
mitre of St. Augustine and St. Thomas of Canterbury? 

* This is St. Cyprian's view. 


In the treatise on Unity St. Cyprian finds the cause of heresy 
and discord in this, that men do not go to the successor of 
him to whom it was said : "Thou art Peter; and upon this rock 
I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail 
against it. And I will give to thee the Keys of the Kingdom of 
Heaven." " Upon one he builds His Church," * says St. Cyprian, 
and to this proposition is mentally linked this other as the mo- 
tive, " in order to exhibit f unity." To gather the meaning of 
the passage, the words " and although^ he gives to all the Apos- 
tles after his resurrection equal power, yet," are not in point. 
They express a divine truth rather than an opinion of St. 
Cyprian, but they are irrelevant to the matter in hand, and are 
simply introduced by way of parenthesis, lest an inference 
should be drawn that Cyprian meant the other Apostles had 
no authority save what they derived mediately through Peter 
from our Lord, instead of immediately from our Lord. We dis- 
cern something of the lawyer's reserved habit of mind here, a 
habit often calculated to suggest inferences of a kind foreign 
to the question. That is, in his desire not to overstate, the 
lawyer so fences round his propositions by safeguards that the 
mind of the opponent may go off at a tangent. So much the 
worse for the latter if he have a purpose to serve in treating 
irrelevancies as chains in the reasoning. The forensic victory 
is gained on the real point at issue. However, we have no hesita- 
tion in saying ours is the true interpretation of the text, the cor- 
rect mode of handling it. Consequently we wonder, with the pro- 
ceedings of the Council of Chalcedon before him, that Dr. Ben- 
son did not see this. In fact, he lost sight of a great question, 
a great truth, owing to his intense desire to prove forgery, fraud, 
and tyranny against the Holy See and its advisers in 1563 be- 
cause they decided to retain a text deemed authentic in 581, 
and which has not even yet been shown to be an interpolated 
one. But suppose he established his allegations of forgery, 

* " Upon one he builds his church " is a disputed reading, but Benson admits it as gen- 
uine. Clearly it belongs to the text. There is another reading : " Upon that one he builds his 
church." He disputes the authenticity of the demonstrative "that." In another note we 
show that the thought expressed in the line is simply a cardinal principle of Cyprian's teach- 
ings. The undisputed text seems somewhat pointless. The edition of Erasmus leaves out 
the words ; another Protestant, Fell, follows Erasmus. They are contained in Rigault's 
(Paris, 1648), an edition carefully compared with ancient manuscripts ; in Pamelius and other 
editors. Another disputed line is " The primacy is given to Peter, that the Church of Christ 
may be shown to be one and the chair ore." These words are quoted by Pope St. Pelagius in 
his second letter to the bishops of Istria, in 581 and neither pope nor bishops questioned 
their authenticity ; this being so, they could not have been manufactured for use in 1563, but 
to establish this is mainly the purpose for which Benson compiled his volume. 
f Manifest. 


fraud, and tyranny in bringing out that text in 1563, he would 
have gained nothing, for the supremacy of Peter's successors is 
a divine institution which cannot be effaced by crooked methods 
of policy adopted by individual pontiffs or their counsellors, any 
more than by lives badly lived by them. However, he has 
failed in his proofs ; but more than that, he has used them 
dishonestly in every way that unfairness could enter into the 
presentation of proofs. 


We shall see the grounds for the hard things he says about 
the Holy See and its advisers with reference to a passage in 
the tract on Unity. This passage he regards as having exer- 
cised overwhelming influence in forcing the decision of the 
Council of Trent on the question whether bishops possess their 
powers as of divine right or of papal right. He informs us that 
to secure a decision that they were of papal right, certain words 
not found in the best manuscripts were retained, against the 
advice of scholars employed by the Holy See to bring out the 
edition of 1563. Now, the disputed words could only be of 
value if the question were as to the nature of the origin of the 
episcopate, namely, whether it was papal or divine. This is 
what Dr. Benson tries to make out the question to have been. 
But he is quite mistaken. The question was one not of the or- 
der of bishops at all ; it was a question of the source of their 
jurisdiction. The divine origin of the order was never in dis- 
pute ; it was assumed by all as the basis of debate on the 
source of jurisdiction, and if St. Cyprian's writings could come 
in at all as an authority and we doubt that they did they 
only came in as such on what was largely a dispute about 
words at most a speculative point of no practical utility. It 
would seem to any sensible man that it is of no consequence 
whether it is said the jurisdiction of bishops is directly from 
the Lord or mediately from Him through His Vicar, pro- 
vided that unity is secured by beginning with and resting on 
the Vicar, who is Peter still, though called Pius, " the rock," 
" the one." As we said, it is a question of phraseology, or at 
the most a speculative one, though we may admit that the 
debate on the point was warm ; but bishops in a council 
are still men and are liable to excitement in the course of 
controversy. It is a mistake to suppose that men will not 
become heated on a purely speculative question. Dr. Benson 
himself, critically examining manuscripts alone in his study, is 


not free from that fever of partisanship ; no, so far from that, 
he permits himself language that might have been heard in 
Exeter Hall when fools ranted about the Pope and the Scarlet 
Woman, her seat upon the seven hills and the cup of her 
abominations ! 


Now, why does Dr. Benson lay such stress on this warmth ? 
Clearly that it might be inferred that there was a party in the 
council who felt that the existence of the episcopate was at 
stake, and that it was right in thinking so. There was no dan- 
ger to the episcopate ; nothing but crass stupidity or a pro- 
found regard for the temporalities of sees would say so. The 
sovereigns were at that time, as well as at all times, desirous 
that the livery of sees, the investiture, should spring from 
themselves. The Holy See all along had waged a war against 
the princes on the right. It was in maintenance of it that 
Gregory VII. endured years of anguish and died in exile, 
and that the great St. Thomas was assassinated murdered 
for defending the rights of the very see the temporalities and 
privileges of which gave an enormous income to Dr. Benson 
and placed him first of the peerage after the royal dukes. 
There was no party which felt the existence of the divine insti- 
tution was in danger, but there were men who desired to 
please their sovereigns, and they may have thought, or have 
tried to think, that their verbal independence of the Pope in the 
origin of jurisdiction was consistent with their union with and 
dependence on him in the matter of doctrine. For this view 
no countenance can be found in St. Cyprian, although very 
plainly this is the position which Dr. Benson's monumental 
work endeavors to assign him. He quotes a passage without 
grasping its significance when read with " the church was built 
on one," a passage which he declares is the position concern- 
ing the episcopate maintained in all the writings of that 
Father: "The episcopate is one, of which a part is held by 
each, in one undivided whole";* but if it be the position of 

*This is best interpreted by such passages as "There speaketh Peter, on whom the 
church was built " (Cyprian, Ep. 69). This is the thought running through St. Cyprian's 
writings. In the letter to Antonianus he uses the expression " place of Fabian," meaning a 
recently deceased pope, and explains it by the words, " the place of Peter and the rank of the 
sacerdotal chair." In the same letter he makes communion with Saint Cornelius, the pope, 
communion with the Catholic Church (Ep. 52). In Ep. 55, to St. Cornelius, he warns him 
against schismatics " who dare to cross the sea " " with letters from schismatical men to the 
chair of Peter, and to the governing church, the source of sacerdotal unity." Writing of the 
lapsed (Ep. xxx. in) he says : " Our Lord, whose precepts and warnings we ought to observe, 


St. Cyprian, it is no wonder that Protestant divines and scholars 
of distinction find the Cyprianic doctrine irresistibly leading to 
Roman supremacy. This passage describes a moral entity resem- 
bling the legal one called by lawyers "joint-tenancy," meaning 
that as the title in the latter case was one, so the origin in the 
former ; as the possession was undivided in the latter, so the 
corporate existence in the former was shared by each. Read in 
this way we understand the meaning of the words in the same 
passage: "Yet there is one head," which is intended to be 
the common origin of the episcopate, a title springing from 
the "one" who sits in the "one chair" which the Lord estab- 
lished to be " the origin of the same unity." That Dr. Benson 
had some uneasy sense that there might be an interpretation 
leading by another route to the conclusion we have just ex- 
pressed is probable, for he laments that St. Cyprian failed to 
see the " invisible church," the "invisible unity."* Of course 
he did, for there is no such thing as an "invisible unity" in a 
society of men, there is no such thing as an " invisible church," 
eccjesia, assembly on earth, any more than there is an invisible 
Congress, an honest thief or a chaste prostitute. If the dictum, 
" The episcopate is one, of which a part is held by each in one 
undivided whole," were taken to heart by a predecessor of Dr. 
Benson, he would not have allowed himself to be ordained arch- 
bishop while the imprisoned bishops of the province were pro- 
testing against the authority that ordained him. Then Canter- 
bury was separated from its suffragan sees, from the world-wide 
episcopate ; and it was separated because its occupant chose to 
build upon a king, or rather to receive power from a king, than 
to build " upon the rock,"f "upon the one," or to receive his 
authority from the "governing church whence episcopal unity 
has taken its rise.";}: Now, this governing church is the equiva- 
lent, in the same sentence, for " the chair of Peter." 

determining the honor of a bishop and the ordering (ratio, Oxford translation) of his own 
church, speaks in the Gospel and says to Peter, ' I say unto thee, thou art Peter, and upon 
this rock, etc.' " To this point he is always returning, and when he asks Peter's successor to 
excommunicate Marcian, Bishop of Aries, he must have believed that "the rock" meant, 
among other things, a primacy of jurisdiction, because deposition would necessarily follow 

*This is not intended to be a gibe, but the distinct effect of Dr. Benson's observation. If 
the reader prefers " grasp," he may put it in place of "see." 

t St. Cyprian's words. 

I " Principalis " means governing, and not "mother" or "ancient," very distinctly, 
according to the use of the word by Tertullian, Cyprian's " master." We are breaking a fly 
upon the wheel. 



The fact is, Dr. Benson ruled in Canterbury on the term, 
among other conditions, of accepting the first four councils of 
the church. We have no choice but to say that the authority 
of Chalcedon bound him to recognize in St. Peter's successors 
a primacy of jurisdiction as well as of honor and precedence. 
To another man the objection might be open that Leo's asser- 
tion of authority and its unquestioned acceptance by the coun- 
cil were based upon a straining of St. Cyprian's teachings, or 
on an undue development of power not morally different from 
usurpation or on any other principle of action, or from accident, 
or from some mysterious source, or from any influence whatever 
under which institutions come into being in this chance-ruled or 
demon-ruled world ; but the objection does not lie in the mouth of 
him who has taken the authority of that council as springing from 
the Holy Ghost, and in consequence of that belief has filled a 
great place in the social and religious life of his country. If Dr. 
Benson on entering orders in the Church of England swallowed 
this article while he did not believe it, he cannot be considered 
a man of stern, inflexible morality ; if he enjoyed good things 
for many years in important though subordinate positions in 
the Establishment because he could only do so by pretending 
to believe that article, it would seem that he could for a per- 
sonal interest bend essentials to the standard of the indifferent, 
and if when, at the end, he was called to the place of a high 
priest and judge in Israel, he could reconcile the irreconcilable 
in doctrine, we think he ought to have practised towards the 
memory of Pius IV. and those about him some measure of 
charity in construing their acts at a time of great anxiety 
about and of peril to the countless souls depending upon their 

What has he done instead ? He has taken up a passage in 
one of the writings of St. Cyprian,* a passage from which we 
have quoted one or two dicta already, and has put forward 
the charge that the text was corrupted by the interpolation of 
statements, and this was done by "princes" and "dukes" and 
" cardinals " and " Roman advocates " against the protests of 
" broken-hearted scholars." Now, the portions we have cited 
are part of the text that he admits to be genuine, so the 
alleged fraud cannot affect what we have said. But something 
more remains: we deny that there has been any fraud in the ' 

*On Unity. 


matter ; and we have already stated if there had been, it could 
have been only to decide an academical question as to the 
origin of episcopal jurisdiction, and not the profoundly practi- 
cal and the divine one of the primacy of the Pope. 


There can be no question but that St. Charles Borromeo 
was the principal influence on Pius IV. in his cares for and 
watchfulness over the deliberations of the council at this its 
closing session, and when all its work had been accomplished 
except the small matter of declaring the source of a bishop's juris- 
diction. The Holy Father's health had given way under the 
strain of great anxieties. If he should die before the acts of the 
council were ratified, all its labor would have been in vain. In 
the condition of Europe then it was impossible to predict 
when another council could be summoned ; the Protestants were 
everywhere fierce, aggressive, desperate, unscrupulous. Eliza- 
beth a few years before had said to her own Bishop of Peter- 
borough, protesting against the granting of the demesnes of 
his see to Cecil: " Proud prelate, you know what you were 
before I made you what you are ! If you do not immediately 
comply with my request, by God I will unfrock you ! " Scot- 
land had trampled the Church under its feet, France was drift- 
ing to Protestantism, almost the middle and the south having 
practically gone over. Northern Germany was lost, so were 
almost all the Swiss cantons ; and everywhere disorder, licen- 
tiousness, spoliation marked the triumph of the new doctrines. 
Dr. Benson gives St. Charles Borromeo credit for desiring to 
restore what he is pleased to call the genuine text of Cyprian 
by, we suppose, the exclusion of the disputed words. It is 
as plain as daylight that St. Charles could not be a party to 
an intrigue for any purpose ; he could not be a party to a con- 
spiracy to foist upon a general council, sitting under the 
guidance of the Holy Ghost, a false text to secure a particular 
declaration. No doubt the matter in question was not dogma- 
tic ; as the Cardinal of Lorraine truly said in his noble address, 
it was only a speculative point on which opinion was divided ; 
but there would have been an impiety nothing short of sacri- 
legious to attempt what Dr. Benson insists Pius IV. and his 
advisers accomplished, even though the point was only specula- 

The truth is that the passage appeared in manuscripts with 
the words which Dr. Benson would have omitted. It appeared 


in manuscripts without them. St. Charles may have been of 
opinion that the latter contained the more genuine text, but 
he would not have been guilty of the folly and presumption 
of requiring the Holy Father to decree that words coming 
from antiquity, as these words came, did not belong to that 
text. As reasonably might it be asked, on Dr. Benson's 
principle, that the words describing Josue's command to the 
sun should be expunged from his book on scientific grounds. 
Now, if the " broken-hearted scholars," Paulus Manutius and 
Latino Latini, arrived at the conclusion that certain words did 
not belong to the text of Cyprian, they had doubtless good 
critical grounds; but they were in the service of the Holy See, 
they were treated with great distinction and liberality, as all 
scholars have ever been by that most munificent patron of 
learning, unchangeable in this whatever changes in the men who* 
held the place, and their duty was to edit an edition for their 
employer and not for themselves. 

Dr. Benson thinks he makes a good point by telling us that 
Charles Borromeo " procured " "the Verona manuscript " " for the 
restoration of the text of Cyprian to its primitive integrity," and 
the inference must then be that his uncle, Pius IV., was a crafty 
politician who waived aside the honest counsel of his nephew. 
St. Charles would be entitled to have the edition he thought 
purest published, as any private scholar might ; he was not 
weighted by an awful responsibility such as then pressed on 
the shoulders of his uncle ; but for the Pope to subordinate 
his great place in the church to the pettishness, capriciousness, 
and overweening vanity of thankless servants, and that merely 
on an open question of text, would be as fatuous as mischiev- 
ous. The very technical and querulous disposition of these 
scholars can be judged by their complaint that some of the 
manuscripts of St. Cyprian had been so copied as to give the 
words of the Vulgate in the commission to Peter rather than 
the words found in the older manuscripts ; that is, to say, because 
some copyist preferred the best Latin version of our Lord's 
words to the Latin of the earlier manuscripts, the text had 
been tampered with ! Latino refused to take the Vulgate 
words, and in doing this he showed the spirit of a con- 
ceited and insolent pedant ; but of course Dr. Benson weeps 
tears of ink over his broken heart. We think any honest man 
will say the Pope and his advisers would have been criminal if 
they published an edition calculated to protract a debate on a 
point of no practical value at a time when it was of vital im- 


portance the council should conclude its work. But will it be 
believed that the edition had no particle of influence on the 
debate, that many of the bishops had seen no texts except 
from manuscripts without the words, that most of the bishops, 
probably all of them, were aware that there was a dispute as 
to their genuineness, and that the debate dropped by the adop- 
tion of the view of the Cardinal of Lorraine ? 


For the intrigue in bringing out this so-called corrupt edition 
of Cyprian, Dr. Benson's authority is Sarpi's History of the 
Council of Trent. He seems fond of dishonest witnesses. He 
tells us nothing about Sarpi, nothing about the auspices under 
which, or the place where, his work was published. The 
work was published in London and dedicated to James I., who 
claimed to be the head of the Church of England. Long be- 
fore this time Sarpi had been excommunicated. He had 
manifested from his early days, when a Servite friar, a rebel- 
lious and intractable disposition ; later on he won the praise of 
being " the Hater of the Papacy and the Popes." Dr. Benson 
introduces with a flourish of trumpets the edition of Baluze 
because it appears without the disputed words. We need say 
no more of Baluze than that Dr. Benson thinks it necessary on 
his behalf to perform the office of compurgator; we therefore 
decline to receive him as an untainted witness. 

The doctrine of the supremacy of the pope is in no way 
affected, because it in no way depends on the words which are 
questioned. A primacy of order or bare dignity is asserted by 
Dr. Benson, and by many Anglicans far more Catholic in 
thought than he is. But this is beating the air. From Tertul- 
lian, whom St. Cyprian calls " Master " ; from Cyprian himself, 
who speaks of the pope as sitting in the place of Peter ; from 
St. Irenaeus, seventy years before Cyprian, through all the Fathers 
witnesses to the primacy of jurisdiction, down to to-day, when 
men of every race and tongue acknowledge it, the doctrine 
stands clear in its exercise of authority and clear in its definition. 
We shall waste no time in discussing it ; we shall conclude by 
expressing our amazement that the greatest dignitary of the 
English Church, a scholar, a man charged with grave responsi- 
bilities, should devote thirty years of his life to prove what is 
of interest to no one, and even if it were of interest would be 
of value to no one. 





" The more thou knowest, and the better, so much the heavier will thy judgment be, 
unless thy life be also more holy." Imitation of Christ. 

ONSTANCE NEVILLE was one of the cleverest 

girls at the Convent of the Sacred Heart at B . 

She was one of the handsomest too, but her 
talents were of far more account to her than her 
beauty; perhaps because she had not as yet real- 
ized her possession of the latter gift. 

For eight years she had carried of! all the prizes, acted as 
ringleader in various escapades, laughed, romped, studied, and 
occasionally wept, in that gray old building with its high stone 
walls and cool, green gardens ; and now it was time to bid its 
inmates farewell, to " put away childish things " and become a 

The idea was distinctly displeasing to her. The path of 
knowledge, which many of her companions found so rough and 
objectionable, was to her a pure delight, and every fresh ob- 
stacle she greeted with joy, for here was something to be mas- 
tered and eventually overcome by the force of her intellect. 

In addition to her dislike of abandoning her studies, the 
future, so far as she could see, held nothing especially attrac- 
tive for her in its outstretched arms. Her parents, who were 
converts, had both died when she was very young ; she was an 
only child and possessed no Catholic relations, and her life 
was to be spent under the roof of a Protestant aunt, a woman 
in whose estimation this world was the only one worth think- 
ing about, and whose ambitions were limited to giving smart 
receptions, wearing Paris frocks, and shining as a social suc- 

Attractive or not, however, the unknown future had to be 
faced. The last few weeks of her school-girl's existence fled 
by with lightning-like rapidity and now it was the eve of her 

" Constance," said one of her companions, coming up to 
where she sat listlessly on a bench in the rose-garden," " Rev- 

1897-] <d FATAL FRIENDSHIP. 157 

erend Mother wants to see you in her room. A farewell con- 
ference, I expect," she added with a laugh. *' How she will im- 
press on you to avoid the pomps and vanities of this wicked 
world, etc." 

There was no answering smile on the girl's finely-cut lips 
as she rose to obey the summons. In her present mood the 
" pomps and vanities " which she saw looming in the near dis- 
tance were eminently distasteful to her ; and she felt, for that 
reason, that no virtue would lie in their avoidance. 

"Come in," said a sweet voice in answer to her knock, and 
entering a plainly-furnished room, which looked out upon the 
sunny garden, she found herself in the presence of the superior 
of the convent. Sister Mary Francis was a woman of a marked 
personality, which impressed itself upon all with whom she came 
in contact. Her governing powers were of no mean order, 
her bump of organization was strongly developed, and at the 
age of forty she ruled over the community, many of whom were 
her seniors, both wisely and well. Like her namesake of Assisi, 
she was thorough to the core. There were no half- measures 
about this calm-faced nun, with her ethereal beauty and her 
speaking eyes. She lived up to her own standard, which was a 
lofty one, and though she could sympathize with those whose 
aim was lower, and whose efforts at perfection more feeble, there 
was, perhaps, underlying the sympathy just a touch of contemp- 
tuous pity for those who were cast in a weaker mould than 

" So you are going to leave us, Connie?" she said, stroking 
the girl's golden brown hair as she knelt beside her. " Going to 
take your place in the world and make it all the better for 
your presence in it, eh?" 

" I don't know, mother," was the somewhat dubious reply. 
" I do not want to have anything to do with it at all. I would 
far rather go on with my studies and not be bothered with 
society and all that kind of rubbish." 

The nun smiled. She had heard this phrase so often from 
girlish lips, and knew by experience how effervescent are the 
ideas and moods of youth. 

" So you think now," she returned quietly, " but I fancy 
by this time next year you will have a very different story to 
tell. You are placed in the world, so far as we can judge at 
present, and you must fulfil your social duties and live accord- 
ing to your position, always bearing in mind that God and 
your religious observances must come first." 


"I didn't mean I wanted to be a nun, mother," said Con- 
stance naively. " I meant I would rather go on studying by 
myself, instead of being bothered by balls and dinner-parties." 

" Your love of study is a little inordinate, my child, and you 
are far too much inclined to neglect more absolutely essential 
matters on its account. A brilliant intellect is an immense 
gift, but you must always remember that it is a gift, and that 
none of its merit is due to yourself. Beware how you use your 
talents, Connie, and never lose sight of the fact that the clev- 
erest men and women are invariably the most humble also. 
Above all, remember that your life, at any rate for the next 
few years, will be passed in an heretical atmosphere, and live 
up to the high standard of your religion. Let the world see 
that a Catholic woman may be bright and clever and attractive 
and play her part gracefully in society, and at the same time be 
absolutely uncompromising where her religious principles are 
concerned. You need not go about with a puritanical expression 
and a dowdy gown, as is the mistaken custom of some pious 
souls. Catholics should be as well dressed as any one else. There 
is no reason why they should hide themselves in the background, 
and every gift of mind and person should be developed to its 
farthest extent for the greater glory of God. More is always 
expected of those who belong to the one true faith, and " with 
a smile " it must be your part to see that the supply is equal 
to the demand." 

There was a brief silence while the speaker's words sank deep 
into her listener's heart. This was an entirely new theory to 
her. Her mother, on becoming a Catholic, had acted in the 
injudicious manner affected by a certain class of converts, and 
had tabooed dances, theatres, and well-fitting frocks from the 
hour of her conversion. She spent the greater part of the day 
in church, to the utter neglect of both her social and domestic 
duties, and was never entirely happy except in the society of 
priests or friars. This had been Constance Neville's first child- 
ish idea of Catholicity, and now here was a cloistered nun ad- 
vocating dinner-parties and encouraging the wearing of pretty 
gowns ! 

"With regard to your studies," continued the superior, "a 
girl's education in many cases only begins when she is sup- 
posed to be ' finished off,' and a course of serious reading will 
increase your stock of knowledge enormously, and besides, you 
must keep up your languages and accomplishments. But, my 
child, again I say beware of your choice of books, and never 

1 897.] A FATAL FRIENDSHIP. 159 

under any circumstances allow any one to induce you to dabble 
in the pernicious free-thinking literature of the present day 
and the scientific treatises which profess so glibly to explain 
away everything in heaven and earth. I will pray each day 
that you may live the life of an earnest, fervent Catholic, in 
the world and conforming to its usages, but not of it, and do 
you, child, pray also for help and strength, for if you fall, it will 
be through your intellect ! " 

Then, after a few more tender, motherly words of counsel 
and advice, Constance was dismissed, and returned to the school- 
room with the nun's warning ringing in her ears : " If you fall, 
it will be through your intellect." 

" Well, Connie, how about the pomps and vanities ? " 
inquired her special chum, Agnes Lisle, whom she met in the 
long corridor. " Did you promise never to ride a ' bike ' or 
dance a waltz, when you go out into the wicked world ? " 

" Not I," was the unexpected rejoinder. " The mother says 
I am to go to balls and dinner-parties, and have a 'good 
time ' all round ; at least she implied the latter part of it." 
And, with an amused gleam in her hazel eyes at her friend's 
mystified expression, she disappeared through the swing door. 


4 ' If it seem to thee that thou knowest many things and understandest them well enough, 
yet know that there are many more things of which thou art ignorant." Imitation. 

It was six months later, and Constance Neville had made 
her curtsy to Her Majesty and been formally launched on 
society, under the auspices of her mother's sister, Lady 
Langton. So far the reality exceeded her anticipations, which 
had never been of a very lively nature so far as social dissipa- 
tions were concerned. The never-ending discussions on " chif- 
fons," as well as the interminable hours spent with her aunt's 
dressmaker, bored her excessively, and the daily visits and after- 
noon " at homes," the salient features of which consisted in 
weak tea and strong scandal, proved a distinct weariness of the 
flesh to the young debutante, whose heart was still in her 
studies. On the other hand, she was not too learned to enjoy 
a good waltz with a skilful partner, his other claims to attrac- 
tion being for the present immaterial, and she was thoroughly in 
her element seated beside a leading scientific light or an 
eloquent, long-haired professor at one of her aunt's dinner- 

With the golden youth of the day Miss Neville was not 


altogether a success. The " Berties " and " Algys " whom she 
met at dances and receptions, with their hair parted in the 
same way and all wearing "the latest thing" in collars, ap- 
peared to her to be formed on the identical pattern of a score 
of others, and, what was fatal to her chance of attracting them, 
she made no efforts to conceal her weariness in their society. 
By degrees she learned to know exactly what they would say 
to her on a given occasion, and the effect which her remarks 
would produce upon them, until she grew to regard them in 
the light of so many musical boxes warranted to play a limited 
number of tunes when you pressed the spring. There was one 
man, however, amongst those she met who appealed to her in 
a distinctly different manner. 

Hugh Radcliffe was an atheist and a free-thinker, a brilliant 
conversationalist, and magnetic to his finger-tips. Just the type 
of man to interest a clever, impressionable girl in her teens, 
who valued her . acquaintances according to their intellectual 
powers. The inherent refinement of his nature, rather than any 
lofty motives, restrained him from indulging in ordinary mascu- 
line vices, and it may have been this exemption which caused 
him to consider himself in only a microscopic degree "lower 
than the angels," and to look down upon the common herd 
from a pedestal of calm superiority. He had lately retired 
from the army, where he had commanded a smart cavalry regi- 
ment, finding the life uncongenial to his tastes and ideas, and 
was now living by himself in an artistically furnished flat in 
Kensington, dabbling a little in literature, and leading the 
somewhat desultory existence which he preferred to any other. 
It was at one of the little dinners for which Lady Langton 
was so famous that he first met Constance Neville, and some- 
thing in the girl's proud, fearless expression and bright, racy talk 
attracted him even more than her undeniable beauty of feature 
and coloring. She was an anomaly in that Hyde Park menage, 
where materialism was apt to shunt spirituality into a very 
remote place in the background, and a pretty girl who neither 
flirted, smoked cigarettes, nor talked slang was a distinct novelty 
to this blase man of the world, and appreciated accordingly. 
Before very long they had struck up a tremendous friendship, 
rather to Lady Langton's dismay, for Colonel Radcliffe, though 
fairly well off, was by no means eligible from her point of view, 
and his attentions would, she argued, " spoil Connie's chances 
in other directions." Matrimony, however, was very far from 
Hugh Radcliffe's thoughts, and it had certainly not entered into 


Constance Neville's calculations so far as he was concerned. 
This " episode " was over long since in the days of his hot- 
headed youth, and all that remained was a handful of dead 
embers, which not even the many charms and talents of this 
convent-bred girl had the power to rekindle. They were 
friends, therefore, without a particle of sentiment on either side ; 
for such a condition of affairs, though rare between two persons 
of different sexes, is still perfectly possible under exceptional 
circumstances. Lady Langton, however, was dubious. Platonics 
did not enter into that volatile lady's scheme of existence, and 
her fixed idea at present was to bring about a brilliant marriage 
for her handsome niece. The fact that this would be no easy 
task had already dawned upon her. Constance had lost no time 
in informing her that she would never consent to marry a 
Protestant, and six months' daily intercourse with the girl had 
taught her that what she said she invariably carried out. Rich 
unmarried Catholics were few and far between ; indeed she 
could only number one amongst her acquaintances, and he was 
a confirmed bachelor, with, it was said, strong leanings towards 
the priesthood. Her only hope was that Constance herself 
would lose her heart to some eligible heretic to an extent 
which would render her willing to renounce her principles on 
the subject, or else that she might meet with some wealthy and 
accommodating young lordling whom it would be possible for 
her to convert to her own ideas. With regard to Lady Lang- 
ton's own religion, her beliefs were many and varied, according 
to the views of her last pet preacher. She had even been 
known to speak in approving terms of the Catholic faith 
" Such a pretty, poetical religion, don't you know, especially in 
dear Italy, where they have such charming festas of the 
Madonna " but lately she had sat at the feet of a celebrated 
theosophist, and sang the praises of esoteric Buddhism to any 
one who would listen to her. 

"What are you reading, Connie?" she inquired one hot, 
drowsy afternoon in July, when she and her niece were, for a 
wonder, alone together in the former's dainty boudoir. 

A faint flush rose to Constance's face as she glanced up 
from the pages of her book. 

" It is one Colonel RadclifTe lent me, The Downfall of the 

Lady Langton held up her white, jewelled hands in affected 

, " What a title ! " she murmured. "I thought you Papists 
VOL. LXV. ii 


were so particular about what you read. It is as bad as that 
fearful pamphlet The Triumph of Materialism, or some such 
name, which you and he were so excited about, the other day, 
at Mrs. Blake's 'at home."' 

" Oh ! but I did not agree with that at all," put in her 
niece quickly. " This is very different, and takes a much wider 
view of things." 

" Well, my dear, I suppose you know best. Of course it is 
very nice to see you take such a liberal view of things Roman 
Catholics are so one-sided usually." 

As she spoke, a picture from the but recently vanished 
past rose up before Constance Neville, and, as in a vision, she 
saw the sweet, grave face of the mother superior, and listened 
to her prophetic words, "If you fall, it will be through your 
intellect." Her childhood's guide had warned her with regard 
to the so-called " liberality " of this end of the century, which 
like a false beacon flickers before the eyes of even good, prac 
tising Catholics, leading them on to the rocks of unbelief. 
And now she, a girl brought up in a convent, was accused of 
this vice by the lips of a Protestant ! For the past month or 
so Hugh Radcliffe had, as he expressed it, " taken her educa- 
tion in hand." The sight of so much faith was as obnoxious 
to him as was that of the other angels to Lucifer when he 
fell from heaven, and by dint of delicately administered doses 
of flattery concerning the present waste of her intellectual 
powers her most vulnerable point he had succeeded in in- 
stilling into her mind a longing to eat of the fruit of the tree 
of knowledge of good and evil. It is undoubtedly only the 
first step which costs. The whispers of conscience, which had 
assailed her ears while she read the first book Hugh gave her, 
were becoming fainter and more stifled every day. Now she had 
the tenets of the " New Rationalism " at her fingers' ends, and 
there had been moments when she wondered whether, after all, 
it was possible that the Sacred Scriptures were merely a pret- 
tily invented fable. So many of the events mentioned therein, 
so Colonel Radcliffe told her, tallied exactly with the legend 
of Buddha ; and she had a very exalted opinion of her men- 
tor's discriminating powers. Another fact which was against 
her, at this critical period of her spiritual existence, was the 
total lack of intercourse with members of her own religion. 
With the exception of her confessor, with whom she was 
on slightly reserved terms, she never spoke to a Catholic 
from one week's end to another, and the " heretical atmos- 


phere " spoken of by Sister Mary Francis was beginning to 

"What a bore it is, having to go to this dance to-night," 
remarked Lady Langton suddenly. 

Constance roused herself with a start from the reverie into 
which she had fallen. 

"What dance? Oh, the Darners'? Must we really go?" 

"Why of course," returned her aunt briskly, slightly irritated 
at being taken at the foot of the letter. " Besides," she added 
a trifle maliciously, " your dear Colonel Radcliffe is going." 

The girl's eyes lit up with pleasure. 

"Is he really? He said he had another engagement, when 
I asked him yesterday." 

" Well, I had the fact from his own lips this morning in 
the park, while you were talking to young Fortescue ; that is 
all I can tell you. And I do hope, my dear" with a sudden 
change of tone "that you will not make yourself as conspicu- 
ous with him as you did the other evening at Blair House." 

" Conspicuous ! What do you mean, aunt ? He is my friend" 
was the indignant rejoinder. 

" Nonsense, child ! Friendship is a fable in most cases, but 
especially so between a man and a woman. Mark my words, 
Connie one of these days you will regret your friendship, as 
you call it, with Hugh Radcliffe." 

And it was with this warning ringing in her ears that Con- 
stance Neville left the room to dress for Mrs. Darner's dance. 


" I am He that in an instant elevateth the humble mind to comprehend more reasons of 
the Eternal Truth than if any one had studied ten years in the schools." Imitation. 

Three years had gone by since Constance Neville had left 
her convent home, and now it was early autumn, and she and 
Lady Langton were revelling in the gorgeous tints of an Um- 
brian landscape, and enjoying the delights of a sauntering tour 
through the fairest province of beautiful Italy. 

It was principally upon Constance's account that they had 
come abroad. For some time she had been looking pale and 
drooping, and out of sorts generally, and her aunt's medical 
adviser a bland, pompous person, with a silky manner which 
constituted a little fortune in itself had pronounced her to be 
" wanting in tone," and recommended " immediate change of 
air and scene." It was Lady Langton's private opinion, however, 


that mental trouble, and not physical ills, was at the root of 
her niece's altered looks and listless demeanor ; and for once 
that sprightly little lady was correct in her estimate. Constance's 
friendship with Hugh Radcliffe, the avowed atheist, had indeed 
proved a fatal one, and her eager and prolonged study of 
works which breathed rationalism and open infidelity in every 
line had finally culminated in her soul's shipwreck. Her doubts 
had, under his skilful tuition, resolved themselves into a cer- 
tainty that religion was a mockery and faith a delusion, and 
at one-and-twenty this girl, brought up and educated by pious 
and devout women whose lives were one long " Credo," had 
arrived at the conclusion that man's reason and intellect were 
his only reliable guides, and that in her scheme of existence 
there was no place for an Almighty and Creative power. She 
had abandoned God and cut herself adrift from his church, 
and she no longer feared, because she had lost all belief in an 
eternity when he in his turn would abandon her. She had 
fallen, and it was through that intellect which she magnified 
into something abnormal in its grandeur; but the warning words 
of her childhood's counsellor had long since ceased to haunt 
her, for she had severed herself from all connection with her 
old associations. 

Lady Langton was anything but pleased with this alteration 
in her niece. In common with a great many Protestants, she 
had a lurking respect for genuine Catholics, and felt that, as 
their standard was a more lofty one than that of other people, 
it was only fitting that their lives should correspond. As we 
have said, her own convictions were in a highly unsettled con- 
dition, but it went quite against her ideas of respectability that 
a woman should be without any religion whatsoever. 

" If Connie was determined to leave the Romish Church," 
she would complain pathetically to her dozen or so of dearest 
friends, " why could she not have come with me to St. Mary 
Magdalen's, where they have such dear little boys in white sur- 
plices and burn such delicious incense? But no; she calls that 
'humbug/ and says that when the age of reason comes there 
will be no church services anywhere. I am sure, according to 
her theories, that it will be a very uncomfortable time when it 
does come." 

Then there would ensue a sympathetic murmur from the 
tea-drinking circle, and the conversation would veer round to 
" chiffons " and the merits of the last new tenor. 

Constance was still Miss Neville. She had been admired by 

1 897.] A FATAL FRIENDSHIP. 165 

a certain class of men who had grown a little weary of the 
yielding feminine type of womanhood, but on the whole she 
was not popular with the other sex. She had refused one offer, 
greatly to her aunt's chagrin, and had lately announced her 
intention of retaining her own name to the end of the chap- 
ter. Contrary to society's expectations, Hugh Radcliffe had re- 
mained contented with his position as friend and mentor, with- 
out making any attempt to exchange it for a nearer and dearer 
tie. Lady Langton averred that his perpetual presence pre- 
vented aspiring suitors from declaring themselves ; and as men 
usually "fight shy" of " platonic friendships," it is possible that 
there may have been some foundation for this belief. 

For the last week the two travellers had been indulging in 
a " feast of frescoes," as the elder lady put it, in the quaint old 
town of Spello ; and now their thoughts were turning towards 
the Birthplace of the Friars, which would be new ground to 
both of them. 

" You would like to see Assisi, I suppose, wouldn't you, 
Connie?" inquired Lady Langton one morning, when they had 
been gazing for the twentieth time at Pinturicchio's lovely 
frescoes in the ancient church of San Lorenzo. 

" Oh, yes ! as we are so near it we may as well," ^replied 
her niece in the listless manner which had become habitual 
to her. 

"But you used to be so enthusiastic about St. Francis, and 
his roses, and his little birds, and all that ! " exclaimed her 
aunt volubly ; and then, as recollection came to her " Oh ! of 
course, that was when you were a Roman Catholic. Now, I 
suppose, you disapprove of him ! " 

Constance Neville's already ivory pale face grew perceptibly 
paler. Her conscience was not as yet so entirely deadened 
but that a chance allusion to her former faith had still the 
power to stab her. 

" I admire St. Francis now," she said quietly. " He was in 
earnest, if mistaken in his convictions, and he was intensely 
thorough." As she spoke, there flashed across her a sudden 
memory of the saint's namesake and her fervent devotion to 
her glorious patron. Sister Mary Francis was an eminently 
clever woman that was an undeniable fact how was it, then, 
that she possessed such blind, unreasoning confidence in what 
she called " divine revelation " ? It was a problem which baf- 
fled even the intellectual powers of this newly avowed young 
atheist ! 


" How dull you are, Connie," remarked Lady Langton im- 
patiently. Thought of any kind was abhorrent to her lively, 
superficial nature, and gloomy reflections, which prohibited the 
exchange of small chatter, especially so. With an effort Con- 
stance roused herself, and, as she mentally expressed it, " talked 
down to her aunt's level " until it was time to return to their 
apartment for lunch. 

Two days later they were established at a picturesque little 
hotel within a stone's throw of the tomb of St. Francis, and 
the nameless, undefinable charm of Assisi had enfolded them 
in its magical embrace. Even Constance felt its influence. 
Something of the spirit of the Seraphic Friar lingers still to- 
day in the steep, cobble-paved streets, and dim old churches, 
where the exquisitely tinted frescoes, painted by the mighty 
masters of old, gleam from the sombre walls. To Catholics 
every inch of the ground is hallowed by countless associations 
and tender memories, and those outside the church are insen- 
sibly impressed with sentiments of veneration hitherto undreamt 
of in " their philosophy." 

It was at the " Angeli," the afternoon after their arrival, that 
Constance encountered a "ghost from the past" in the person 
of her former school friend, Agnes Lisle, now developed into 
a fair-faced young woman with a quantity of fluffy hair and a 
bright, winning manner. 

" Connie, how delightful ! " was her enthusiastic exclamation 
as they met. "What luck! Fancy meeting you here! What 
have you been doing all these ages since we last saw each 
other? Tell me directly." 

" That is a large order," replied Miss Neville calmly. She 
was by no means charmed at this unexpected meeting. 

" Isn't this place too utterly sweet ? " went on the girl, her 
blue eyes sparkling with delight. "And what a lot of prayers 
you must have said there," pointing to the Portiuncula Chapel, 
" for your dear Sister Mary Francis!" 

For a moment Constance hesitated. Should she allow her 
friend to remain in ignorance of what had befallen her since 
they parted, or would it be more honest to boldly proclaim 
the change which had taken place within her? Perhaps it 

The happy smiles faded from Agnes Lisle's face and were 
replaced by a half incredulous look of horror and bewilderment 
as she listened. 

"Is it possible, Connie? You to renounce your faith? You 


must be mad." Then in a softer tone, " God help you, you 
poor foolish girl ; how I pity you ! " 

Constance drew herself up proudly. She was accustomed to 
the commendation of Hugh Radcliffe, and others of his ilk, for 
having " freed herself from the degrading shackles of religion," 
and this was the first occasion on which she had met with any- 
thing that savored of reproof. " Foolish ! " this girl had called 
her. The idea of Agnes Lisle, whose prizes had been few and 
far between, and whose intelligence was on a distinctly low 
level, daring to "pity" her, the brilliant student and the inde- 
pendent free-thinker ! She listened in scornful silence to a 
few earnest, pleading words, uttered from the depths of her old 
school-fellow's trusting heart, and, seizing the first opportunity, 
bade her a hasty farewell. 

The drive home was a very silent one, and it was only when 
they reached the hotel that Constance volunteered a remark: 
" Colonel Radcliffe talks of joining us here. I heard from him 
this morning ; he is at Rome." 

"Oh, does he?" answered Lady Langton carelessly. She 
had learned wisdom where her niece was concerned, and con- 
sequently refrained from any further .comments on the informa- 
tion imparted to her. 


: " And the fool says in his heart, ' There is no God.' " 

That same evening Hugh Radcliffe made his appearance on 
the scene. He professed to be weary of sight-seeing and long- 
ing for purer air, and absolutely declined to crane his neck 
gazing at Giotto's frescoes, or to go into raptures over any- 
body's Madonnas. He had taken up his quarters at the small 
hotel midway between the town of Assisi and the Church of 
the Angeli, but the greater part of his day was spent with 
Lady Langton and her niece or, to put it more accurately, with 
her niece alone. 

" I wash my hands of you, Connie," said her aunt plain- 
tively, when the girl had announced her intention of going for 
a long, rambling walk with her newly arrived friend. " It seems 
to me you will soon throw propriety overboard as well as reli- 
gion. What the poor natives will think I don't know. I sup- 
pose you must have your own way, as you always do, and one 
consolation is that all the English are considered more or less 
mad ! " 


Which speech, freely translated, signified that Lady Langton 
did not at all relish the prospect of acting chaperone on a hot 
sunny morning, and was rather relieved than otherwise at her 
niece's openly expressed contempt of Mrs. Grundy. 

" You are not looking well, Constance," remarked Colonel 
Radcliffe, as they began to ascend the hill leading to the Poor 
Clare Convent of San Damiano. 

He had adopted the habit of dropping the formal prefix when 
there were no strangers present. 

" I might return the compliment," she answered playfully, 
glancing up at the pale, powerful face, with its clearly cut, 
strongly marked features, which impressed her afresh each time 
she saw it. " Have you been ill, or worried, or what ? " 

" I have had a pretty sharp touch of my old malady, the 
heart," was the careless reply. " It is quite on the cards, you 
know, that I may ' solve the great problem,' as they call it, at 
any moment. As if there were any problems left to solve," he 
added musingly. 

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" exclaimed Constance, 
with a reproachful look in her hazel eyes. " You ought not to 
be going up hill at all ! Oh, do be careful of yourself ! " 

Hugh Radclirle laughed lightly. "Don't look so concerned, 
child," he said caressingly ; " we old fellows must move on to 
make room for the younger generation." 

" Old ! at forty-five ? " she exclaimed indignantly. " What 
nonsense clever men can talk sometimes ! " 

"Besides," he went on, "why should you grudge me my 
well-earned rest ? I have been buffeted about the world long 
enough, and am of no use to any one in it ; why not be anni- 
hilated then, and sink into a restful nothingness, an intermina- 
ble sleep, which shall know no waking?" 

" To sleep ? Perchance to dream ! " murmured the girl half 
to herself. 

"What heresy are you muttering, Constance?" asked her 
mentor sharply. "After death's icy finger has once touched us 
there will be neither dreams nor awakening. I hope the ro- 
mantic associations of this place and all its saintly legends have 
not been putting foolish ideas into your head." 

"No, Hugh, I think not," she answered simply. "The 
quotation only happened to come into my mind at that mo- 

" It was not a particularly apt one," he remarked with a 
slight trace of irritation in his manner. 


Colonel Radcliffe felt that in robbing Constance Neville of 
her early illusions, and destroying her faith, he had achieved 
a distinct triumph, and he was therefore proportionately fear- 
ful of any backsliding on the part of his pet pupil. 

The remainder of their walk was spent in a discussion on 
the respective merits of Kant and Hegel's doctrines, but an 
indefinable shadow had clouded the brightness of that autumn 
morning as far as Constance was concerned, and the thought 
that her friend's days on earth were numbered weighed heavily 
upon her spirit. It sounded so dreary as he put it to end in 
nothingness ! Of course she believed it too, but there was no 
denying that it was an unpleasant theory to hold. Then came 
the reflection, if, on the other hand, immortality should prove 
to be no fable, what would be the eternal fate of herself, and 
Hugh Radcliffe, and the thousands of men and women in the 
world who daily denied their Creator ? 

She gave a little shiver in the sunshine and turned her 
thoughts to other subjects ; but the idea, once presented, kept 
perpetually recurring to her mind during the days which fol- 
lowed. Notwithstanding Colonel Radcliffe's objection to sight- 
seeing, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and consented to 
admire the stately Church of San Francesco, to gaze incredu- 
lously upon the blood-stained rose-bushes in the friar's garden, 
and to visit the stable where the Seraphic founder of the Fran- 
ciscan Order first saw the light, and the little cell whence his 
pure spirit winged its flight to heaven. 

" There was something distinctly impressive about Francis 
of Assisi," he said one evening, as he and Constance stood on 
the balcony of Lady Langton's sitting-room, watching the dying 
sun sinking to its rest in a glory of gold and crimson. "There 
were no half-measures about his Christianity. I do not won- 
der that superstitious, impressionable people are taken with the 
Catholic religion. After all, it is the only logical one." 

Constance gazed at him in bewilderment. " Are you defend- 
ing it ? " she inquired. 

"Not I, child," he answered lightly. "I defend no religion, 
for I have learned the shallowness and unreality of every creed. 
I only mean to say that of all the many forms of superstition 
clung to by the human race, which Carlyle describes as 'mostly 
fools,' it is the most venerable, and the only one which will 
hold water. It is more ingeniously invented than the others, 
that is all." 

Constance remained silent, her eyes fixed on the purple 


mountain tops and drinking in the exquisite beauty of the 
scene before her. Assisi had impressed her, as well as her com- 
panion, though she would have died rather than acknowledge 
the fact, especially to him. In her school-days St. Francis had 
always been the object of her particular devotion, contrary 
though the whole spirit of his life was to her self-willed nature, 
with its reckless impulses and pride of intellect ; and every 
step in the quaint little town sanctified by his presence, and 
every incident recorded of his words and actions, were familiar 
to her as household words. According to Colonel Radcliffe's 
theory, and yes, of course hers too, the Friar of Assisi no 
longer existed. He had died several centuries ago, and been 
annihilated, for there was no life beyond the grave that ended 
everything ! 

" Why are you so silent, Hugh ? " she asked suddenly, wish- 
ing to be directed from her own thoughts, and turning to look 
at him as he leant beside her with his arms folded on the 
railing of the little balcony. Then, as she noticed the ashy 
grayness of his face, she gave a horrified exclamation, which 
immediately brought Lady Langton upon the scene. 

" Ring the bell, aunt, quickly ! " she said hurriedly as she 
half led, half supported him into the sitting-room. "Tell them 
to bring some brandy. He is fearfully ill ! " 

Hugh turned towards her with a faint attempt at a smile on 
his agonized features. " I am dying, Connie," he murmured. 
" Going to nothingness, sinking sinking ah ! " and with one 
long-drawn breath his head fell back on the sofa-cushions, and 
the soul of Hugh Radcliffe, the atheist, went before the judg- 
ment seat of God. 

A second resounding peal of the bell brought a group of 
agitated waiters, who bore the lifeless body to another room 
to await the arrival of the doctor, and Lady Langton and her 
niece were left alone, stupefied by the events of the last few 
minutes, and feeling as though they were the victims of some 
hideous nightmare. Constance stood motionless, gazing before 
her with unseeing eyes, her thoughts rendered almost stag- 
nant by the sudden shock. A moment ago her friend was here 
by her side, avowing his unbelief in God and religion, and now 
where was he ? 

" He has gone to nothingness," she murmured at last" in the 
manner of one talking in her sleep. 

'"He has gone to hell more likely," said her aunt, her over- 
strung nerves finding sudden relief in decisive speech. " For 


1 897.] A FATAL FRIENDSHIP. 171 

goodness' sake rouse yourself, Constance ! The doctor and 
those odious municipality people will be coming presently to 
ask us all sorts of disagreeable questions. It is a most 
tragical affair altogether, and so horrid for us to be mixed up 
in it ! " 

Her niece still continued to stare blankly in front of her, 
with the perplexed air of one striving to understand the drift 
of what was said, and then, as nature suddenly reasserted its 
sway, she sank down on the sofa where her friend had died 
and burst into an agony of tears. 

A year had passed away since that glowing October evening 
when Hugh Radcliffe and Constance Neville had watched the 
sun set behind the Angeli, and the superior of the Convent of 
the Sacred Heart at B - was kneeling in the little chapel 
where the sanctuary lamp gleamed redly through the gathering 
gloom. Presently one of the sisters interrupted her at her de- 
votions. " A lady is waiting for you in the parlor, Reverend 
Mother," she said. " She wishes to speak to you in private." 
It was past the usual hour for receiving visitors, but some un- 
definable impulse prompted the superior to accede to the re- 
quest. As she entered the room the slight, graceful figure of 
a woman dressed in black rose to her feet and stood before 

" Have you forgotten me, mother? " she said in a voice which 
trembled with an uncontrollable emotion. 

" Forgotten you, child ? No, indeed ! " was the nun's reply, 
as she clasped both Constance Neville's hands within her own 
and drew her towards her. Then all at once a sudden chill 
crept into her manner. " What brings you here ? Agnes Lisle 
told me you had renounced your religion and denied your 

The quiet tears started to the hazel eyes, whose beauty had 
become somewhat dimmed with much weeping. 

" What she told you was true, mother," she faltered, " but 
since then God, in his marvellous mercy, has opened my eyes 
and given me back my faith." 

Then she briefly told the story of the past five years: of her 
doubts and waverings, her friendship with the atheist and. his 
fatal influence upon her life ; of her visit to Umbria, and of how 
the holy associations of Assisi had worked in her behalf ; of 
Hugh Radcliffe's sudden death at sunset, and her own long 
and dangerous illness, which followed closely on the heels of 




that tragical event, and resulted in her conversion, brought 
about through the intercession of the Mother of Mercy. 

"When I was so ill," she said, " my aunt insisted upon my see- 
ing a priest she never approved of my unbelief and though I 
was too proud to ask for one, it was what I had secretly been 
longing for. He came, a pious, learned Dominican, one of the 
cleverest men I have ever met, but simple and holy as a little 
child, and I told him everything without reserve. The devil 
still had some amount of possession over me, however, for my 
ideas had been so deeply rooted, and a foolish feeling of loyalty 
to Hugh Radcliffe's memory stood in my way. Then Father 

- began a novena to our Lady of Mercy, and persuaded 
several pious people to join in it, and before the ninth day 
she had brought me back again to her Divine Son. Now I feel 
that a lifetime will not be long enough in which to atone for 
my sin." 

f< God be thanked ! " murmured the nun as she folded the 
penitent in her arms. "There are two roads to heaven, my 
child Innocence and Penance. The latter path is still yours 
to follow, and, with Mary's help, it will lead you safely on to 
the glorious end." 




HIRTEEN hundred years have passed since St. 
Augustine and his companions landed in Eng- 
land, and sending to its pagan Bretwalda 
Ethelbert of Kent "signified that they were 
come from Rome, and brought a joyful mes- 
sage, which most undoubtedly assured to all that took advan- 
tage of it everlasting joys in heaven, and a kingdom that would 
never end, with the true and living God." It was essentially 
an " Italian Mission," due in its inception to Pope St. Gregory 
the Great, and brought to a successful issue by the Papal mis- 
sionary, St. Augustine. 

The land thus benefited by the great Pontiff's vigilance lay 
without the then bounds of civilization, wrapt in that environ- 
ment of mystery and awe with which the deeds of its Saxon 
conquerors had invested it. Ages before, its people had been 
subjected to Roman rule, and the Roman policy of draughting 
the pick of the nation's manhood into the legions entrusted 


with the protection of the distant provinces of the empire had 
drained the island of its chief means of defence. The day 
came when the imperial eagles were withdrawn, and "the south 
part of Britain, destitute of armed soldiers, of martial stores, 
and of all its active youth, which had been led away never to 
return, was wholly exposed to rapine, as being totally ignorant 
of the use of weapons." Thrown on their own resources, the 
Britons fell an easy prey before the pagan tribes the " sea- 
wolves," as they were called who swarmed over from the 
Low-German lands on the Frisian shore and the mouth of the 
Elbe. The culture and refinement introduced by the Romans 
soon became a thing of the past, and the worship of Woden 
and Thor supplanted the teaching of the Cross. A desire to 
recover for the church the land thus wrenched from its bosom 
had long filled the mind and heart of St. Gregory. At last it 
found practical expression in the mission of St. Augustine, and 
the recently celebrated thirteen hundredth anniversary of its 
arrival renders not inopportune some account of the earlier 
British Church which had existed from time immemorial, and 
which in St. Augustine's days still flourished in Wales and 
those parts* of Britain in possession of its ancient inhabitants. 

No documentary evidence contemporary with the dawn of 
the early period of which we write is extant to tell us when, 
and by whom, Christianity was first introduced into Britain. 
About the year 547 the native writer Gildas breaks the long 
silence ; Nennius writes in the seventh century, and in the 
eighth Venerable Bede composes his Ecclesiastical History and 
other works. Our information is, in the main, derived from 
the above writers, from certain ancient Welsh MSS., and a 
series of mediaeval legends expressing the belief of ages much 
nearer the events they record than our own, the accuracy of 
which the chroniclers could test by reference to documents 
which have since disappeared. Whilst subjecting such, legend- 
ary information to a critical examination, it is well to bear in 
mind the dictum of the Protestant historian, Dean Milman. 
" History, to be true," he says, " must condescend to speak the 
language of legend," for " the belief of the times is part of 
the history of the times." 

Certain such legendary accounts of missions said to have 
been conducted to Britain by one or other of the Apostles are, 
both by Lingard and the Anglican authorities Haddon and 
Stubbs, discarded as incapable of proof. " It is, however, cer- 
tain," says Lingard, "that at a very early period there were 

1 897.] 



Christians in Britain," and that "before the close of the second 
century it (Christianity) had penetrated among the independent 
tribes of the north." " From the beginning," Gildas tells us, 


" the Christian faith did entirely remain in Britain till Diocle- 
tian's persecution." Commenting on our Lord's words, " I will 
build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against 
it," St. Chrysostom tells his readers: "The British Islands, 
situated beyod the sea, and in the very ocean, have experi- 
enced the force of the promise, since churches and altars are 
there erected." We have also the interesting testimony of cer- 
tain documents of Syriac origin now preserved in the British 
Museum ; by competent authorities they are said to date back 
earlier than the year 325. "The City of Rome . . , and 
Britain," so they record, " received the Apostle's ordination to 
the priesthood from Simon Cephas." 

It is probable that the earliest introduction of Christianity 
into Britain was in a great measure a result of the Roman 
conquest, for where the Roman soldiers marched the priests of 


the church followed, and thus by their hands Britain may 
have received "the Apostle's ordination from Simon Cephas." 
A consideration of the intimate relations between the British 
provinces and the imperial city supports this view. "Whilst," 
says Camden, " I treat of the Roman Empire in Britain . . . 
it comes into my mind how many colonies of Romans must 
have been transplanted hither in so long a time ; what num- 
bers of soldiers were continually sent from Rome for garrisons ; 
how many persons were despatched hither, to negotiate affairs, 
public or private; and that these, intermarrying with the 
Britons, seated themselves here, and multiplied into families." 
They civilized the Britons, introduced their laws, customs, 
and arts, and without doubt spread abroad that holy faith to 
which an ever-increasing number had become zealous converts. 
The Roman stamp on the church of the period is indeed so 
unmistakable that a recent writer has broached the theory 
untenable on other grounds that the church of the fourth-cen- 
tury Britain was " the church of the resident Roman popula- 
tion, not of the people of Britain," and that on the departure 
of the Romans, in 410, a new Christian church, that of the 
Celts, arose and developed so rapidly that it was already 
flourishing in 450. 

The imperial authorities allowed many of the subject British 
chiefs to retain the title of king, as well as part of their terri- 
tories, but under conditions that rendered them well-nigh power- 
less. Of one of these native princes " it is related in annals of 
good credit," says William of Malmesbury, " that Lucius, King of 
the Britons, sent to Pope Eleutherius, thirteenth in succession 
from St. Peter, to entreat that he would dispel the darkness 
of Britain by the light of Christian instruction. ... In con- 
sequence, preachers sent by Eleutherius came into Briton." 
" Eleutherius was raised to the apostolic seat at Rome," says 
Fabius Ethelwerd, " and for fifteen years he constantly perse- 
vered in his glorious preaching to the Christian people, and his 
holy doctrine went forth, not only through the cities subject to 
him, but from the rising to the setting sun. For the same 
most blessed servant of Christ visited even Lucius, king of this 
island, both by message and by letter ; instructing in the faith 
and in Catholic baptism." The incident, substantially the same 
as related in the earlier history of Bede, is accepted as an his- 
torical fact by Dr. Guest, late master of Caius College, Cam- 
bridge, whom as an archaeologist Professor Freeman placed 
foremost of his time, although Abbe" Duchesne treats it as an 

1 897.] 



interpolation, which subsequent chroniclers are supposed to have 
copied. Anyway, the chronicle of Ethelwerd so far as the 
period in question is concerned is pretty certainly known to 
represent a recension of the Saxon Chronicle no longer extant, 
which, when Ethelwerd wrote (between 975 and ion), could 
claim such high antiquity that it may be taken as embodying 
the living tradition of the Anglo-Saxon Church in its earliest 
age. The interpolation in Bede if such it be must have found 
its way into his pages almost before the ink was dry on the 
vellum on which his amanuensis had been engaged up to within 
a few hours of Bede's death, in 735. It certainly did not give 
birth to the tradition, for long before the days of the venerable 
monk of Jarrow, in the Liber Pontificalis, dating back to about 
527, we find that Eleutherius " received a letter from Lucius, King 
of Britain, that he might be made a Christian by his orders." 

Lucius was prince or king of Morganwg, a dominion co- 
extensive with the diocese of Llandaff, and his appeal to Rome 
resulted in the sending thence of two bishops, St. Faganus 
and St. Duvianus, and with them returned the messengers 
who had been sent out by Lucius Elvan and Medwy. Elvan 
is said to have received episcopal consecration in Rome, and 
succeeded Theanus as second Bishop of London. These early 
missionaries acquainted Lucius "with the great joy caused at 
Rome by his happy conversion, and how in compliance with 
his desire they were sent by the holy Pope Eleutherius to ad- 
minister the Rites of Christianity. And hereupon both the 
king and his whole family, with many others, received Baptism 
according to the course and ceremony of the Roman Church." 
In a lecture recently delivered by Mr. Francis King before the 
Historical Research Society of London, it has been pointed 
out that " Lucius was the first Christian sovereign in the whole 
world, and was, therefore, the eldest son of the church." He 
ultimately laid aside his crown, and setting out as a missionary 
to Germany ended his life by martyrdom at Augsburg. 

The teachers sent from Rome " dedicated to the honor of 
one God arid his saints those temples which had been founded 
to the worship of many false gods, filling them with assemblies 
of lawful pastors." Bede tells us that " the island was formerly 
embellished with twenty-eight noble cities"; in ancient times 
they had been the seats of as many Druidical Flamens, or 
chief priests, to counteract whose false teaching the Roman 
missionaries decreed that they should be made episcopal cities. 
In process of time this is said to have been done, and the 
VOL. LXVI. 12 


Bishops of London, York, and Caerleon seem to have been in- 
vested with what afterwards became known as archiepiscopal 
jurisdiction in their several provinces. Ralph de Diceto, ap- 
pointed Dean of London in 1181, informs us as to the extent 
of the three provinces. " In the time of the Britons," he tells 
us in his History of the Archbishops of Canterbury, " there 
were three archbishoprics in England : one in the City of Lon- 
don, to which Loegria and Cornubia were subject ; another in 
York, to which Deira and Albania were subject ; the third in 
the City of Legions, that is Caerleon, which is now called St. 
David's, to which Cambria was subject." The River Humber 
divided Loegria and Cornubia from Deira and Albania, and 
Cambria embraced Wales and that part of England west of the 
Severn and Wye. In the province of York there were seven 
sees, the same number in St. David's, and fourteen in London. 
Evidence pointing to the very earl) 7 establishment of these archi- 
episcopal sees is afforded by the decrees of the celebrated coun- 
cil held in 314 at Aries, in France. Three British representa- 
tives were present and signed the decrees : Eborius of York, 
Restitutus of London, and the third, Adelphius, was probably 
Bishop of Caerleon. 

Amongst the remains of the church of the period of the 
Roman occupation the ruined church of St. Mary-le-Castro at 
Dover may well claim first attention. By some authorities it 
is said to have been built by the Romans themselves, others 
suppose it is the work of native converts. Built of Roman 
brick, probably in the fourth century, its foundations are in 
the form so venerated by Catholics that of a cross. It is 
probably the most ancient piece of Christian architecture in 
England. A church of somewhat later date was that of St. 
Pirian (friend and contemporary of St. Patrick), which was 
built on the coast, near St. Ives, in Cornwall. The building 
was 29 feet in length, 16^ feet in width, and 19 feet in height. 
It consisted of a nave and chancel, was furnished with a stone 
altar, and was erected earlier than the sixth century, since St. 
Pirian was buried within its walls before the year 500. The 
remains of this church were for long buried beneath an accumu- 
lation of sand and shingle, and thus preserved till brought to 
light some sixty years since. 

On the site of the ancient Roman city of Calleva, some 
eight miles from Reading, there have been discovered what the 
Society of Antiquaries recognize as the foundations of a church 
which may date from about 350. " Its extreme length was 42 





feet. It had a semi-circular ending (apse). It was divided 
into a small nave and two aisles. It had a very large porch at 
the east end. The church stood east and west, the altar being 
at the western end, not at the eastern end, as is usual now. 
The floor was laid with brick tesserae an inch square. The 
position of the altar is marked by a large square of mosaic. 
The colors in this mosaic are quite fresh, and are black, white, 
red, and greenish gray. The red is of the usual brick, the 
greenish gray is Purbeck marble, the white hardened chalk, and 
the black is limestone. . . . The plan of the building is 


perfectly marked by the foundations. To the east of the 
church is a little tiled platform, believed to have been a 
receptacle for water with which those who were about to enter 
the building might perform the usual ablutions." 

Speaking of the Church of Glastonbury, from its antiquity 
called by the Angles, by way of distinction, " Ealde Chirche " 
that is, the Old Church William of Malmesbury says: "It is 
certainly the oldest I am acquainted with in England, and from 
this circumstance derives its name. In it are preserved the 
mortal remains of many saints. . . . The very floor, inlaid 
with polished stones, and the sides of the altar itself, above and 
beneath, are laden with the multitude of relics." It is said to 
have been built of " wattle-work " and roofed with dried rushes. 
It was 60 feet long, 26 feet broad ; had a window at the west 
end, one at the east, three on each side, and two doors. A 
drawing of this old church may be seen in a document pre- 
served in the British Museum, and is said to have been 
copied from a still more ancient brass engraving from the 
abbey church of mediaeval times. 

The traditional account of the association of St. Joseph of 
Arimathaea with Glastonbury is thus recorded by a recent writer : 

The life of St. Joseph was in imminent danger from the 
Jewish priests on account of his attention to the body of our 
Lord after the crucifixion. In the same number of persecuted 
ones were St. Philip, Lazarus, St. Mary Magdalen, Martha 
her sister, and Marcella their servant. Banished from the Holy 
Land by the Jews, they reached Marseilles in France; and here 
Philip remained preaching the Gospel, but sent Joseph of 
Arimathaea, -his son, and ten other faithful companions into 
Britain to convert its pagan inhabitants. On the spot where 
they landed St. Joseph planted his staff ; it took root, and ever 
afterwards blossomed at Christmas-time ; and near at hand the 
first church at Glastonbury was erected and dedicated to Our Lady. 

The year 449 saw the landing of the Jutes, under Hengist 
and Horsa, in Britain. Saxons and Angles followed in their 
wake in ever-increasing numbers, and soon these pagan allies 
developed into terrible foes. "They plundered all the neigh- 
boring cities and country, spread the conflagration from the 
eastern to the western sea, and covered almost every part of 
the devoted island. Public as well as private structures were 
overturned, the priests were everywhere slain before the altars; 
the prelates and people, without any respect of persons, were 
destroyed with fire and sword ; nor was there any to bury those 

1 897.] 



who had been thus cruelly slaughtered." At length, towards 
the end of the sixth century, the archbishops of London and 
York, seeing all the churches which had been subject to them 
destroyed, with many other ecclesiastics, retired into Wales, 
carrying with them the sacred relics of the saints ; and England 
relapsed into paganism. 

The Welsh province of Caerleon subsequently known 'as 
St. David's, or Menevia is thus invested with peculiar honor, 
since it alone never lost its faith down to the time of the so- 
called Reformation. During the three centuries following that 
calamity the Welsh sees remained vacant. Then, in 1850, at 
the command of Pope Pius IX., the hierarchy was restored, and 
again a successor to St. David occupied the throne of Menevia 
by favor of the Apostolic See. By the authority of Peter's 
voice that see was first established in Caerleon when the mar- 
tial tramp of the Roman legions resounded within its walls, 
and by the authority of that same voice its authority has been 
finally merged in the newly-created Welsh vicariate. 

In ancient times there were in Caerleon two other churches 
in addition to the metropolitan church of the province : one 
dedicated to St. Julius, to which was attached a community of 
nuns ; the other, served by an order of canons, was dedicated 
to St. Aaron. The lives of these two tutelar saints bear wit- 
ness to the influence of the See of Peter on the church of 
early Britain. The authority of that see drew them on, and, 
journeying over land and sea, they " applied themselves to 
sacred studies" at the foot of the Apostolic throne. On their 
return to their native land the Diocletian persecution broke out. 
They were seized as adherents of the proscribed faith, and, 
" when they had endured sundry torments, and their limbs had 
been torn after an unheard-of manner, yielded their souls up, 
to enjoy in the Heavenly City a reward for the sufferings which 
they had passed through." After St. Alban and St. Amphi- 
balus they have ever been esteemed the chief of the proto- 
martyrs of Britain. 

The storm of the Diocletian persecution ceased. Then " the 
faithful Christians, who, during the time of danger, had hidden 
themselves in woods and deserts and secret caves, appearing 
in public, rebuilt the churches which had been levelled with 
the ground ; founded, erected, and finished the temples of the 
holy martyrs, and, as it were, displayed their conquering en- 
signs in all places." The churches erected to commemorate 
.the sufferings of St. Alban, St. Julius, and St. Aaron were 


doubtless amongst those referred to in the above passage from 
Bede, and within their walls, associated with the cross, the 
emblems of their martyrdom may well have been depicted in 
characters of gold as amongst the " conquering ensigns " of 
the faith of early Britain. 

Very interesting, too, is the history of the cathedral church 
of Llandaff. From an ancient list of the bishops of this see, 
published as an appendix to the Book of Llandaff, we find 
that the earliest rulers of the diocese were the Roman mis- 
sionaries, St. Duvianus and St. Faganus. St. Dubricius, its 
earliest bishop of whom we can speak with historical certainty, 
is. thought by Cardinal Moran to have been consecrated by 
St. Germanus of Amiens a martyr bishop, of Irish nationality, 
not to be confounded with his spiritual father, St. Germanus 
of Auxerre. About the year 490 St. Dubricius succeeded to 
the archbishopric of' Caerleon. For some time the district had 
been troubled by the spread of the errors of the Welsh heresi- 
arch, Pelagius ; then St. Germanus of Auxerre, commissioned 
by Pope Celestine, had come over from France, accompanied 
by St. Lupus of Troyes, in order that, after having confuted 
the heretics, he might direct the Britons aright in Catholic 
faith. For a time peace was restored to the church ; but now, 
when the episcopate of the venerable archbishop was drawing 
to a close, the old trouble again cropped up and threatened 
to pervert the land. A council of bishops, abbots, and reli- 
gious men of several orders, together with certain of the laity, 
met a Breyi in Cardiganshire. Exhortations were made and 
sermons preached, but "the people were so deeply and in- 
curably poisoned that no reason or persuasion could reduce 
them to the right path of Catholic faith." 

In this emergency the council turned to St. David, who 
was not present, but whose eloquence, learning, and sanctity 
were known to all, and who had but recently been raised to 
the episcopate. To him St. Dubricius first sent messengers, 
then went in person, filled with confidence in his power to 
refute the heretics and restore peace. St. David perhaps fore- 
saw how the matter would eventuate, and that Dubricius would 
endeavor to transfer to his own shoulders the weighty archi- 
episcopal cares which had become too great a burden for his 
own advanced years. There could, however, be but one path 
to follow when duty marked out the way, and so St. David 
sacrificed his desire to spend his days in the cloister and set 
out for the council. His power to sway the minds of his 

1 8 9 7-] 



countrymen fully justified all anticipations, and his matchless 
eloquence was assisted by the far more eloquent appeal of a 
pure and holy life. The Divine grace co-operated with his 


exposure of the errors of Pelagius, and " the said heresy van- 
ished almost at once and was extinguished." A second council 
followed, which ratified the decrees of the first ; those decrees 
" became the guide and rule of all the churches of Wales," and 
St. David took care to procure for them the " approbation of 
the Roman pontiff." 

With the concurrence of St. Dubricius, by the general elec- 
tion and acclamation both of clergy and people, St. David was 
elected archbishop of the province, and Dubricius ended his 
days in a monastery that had been long established in the 
island of Bardsey. "As his survivors had venerated him, so they 
afterwards applied to him as an intercessor with God, and the 
defender of all the saints of the whole island and of the whole 
country." So great was this veneration that the old British 
kings and princes associated his name with that of St. Peter in 
their bequests to the church. " I grant," so such bequests read, 
11 to Almighty God, to St. Peter, to holy Dubricius acres of 


land, that the holy Sacrifice of the Mass may be offered up for 
my soul and the souls of my wife, children, and forefathers." 

The desire to shut himself off from worldly ambition and 
unnecessary distractions induced St. David to make it a con- 
dition of his acceptance of the primacy of the Cambrian Church 
that he should be allowed to translate the metropolitan see 
from Caerleon to Menevia, "a place which, from its remote- 
ness, solitude, and neighborhood of many saints and religious 
persons in the islands and territories adjoining, was most ac- 
ceptable to him." There the archiepiscopal residence was placed. 
At once it developed into a monastic establishment of the great- 
est service in carrying on the work of the diocese, and the life 
of its founder invested it with such sanctity that in after ages, 
" when any one had a desire to go in devotion to Rome, and 
was hindered either by the difficulties or dangers of the jour- 
ney, he might equal the merit of such a pilgrimage by twice 
visiting the church of St. David's." 

Another monastic house, that of Bangor-Iscoed, in Flint- 
shire which place must not be confounded with the cathedral 
city of Bangor, in Carnarvonshire is spoken of by Bede as the 
" most noble monastery of the Britons." According to report, 
he says, " there was so great a number of monks that the 
monastery, being divided into seven parts, with a ruler over 
each, none of those parts contained less than three hundred 
men, who all lived by the labor of their hands." The monks 
"were their own masons, carpenters, and blacksmiths. Their 
life consisted of a round of prayer, work, and study. True to 
their Celtic instincts, they spent much time in singing and at the 
Holy Sacrifice, and in the evening, when they returned from 
the work-shop or the field, a loud burst of harmony broke forth 
from their humble chapel, often attracting numbers of the 
country people from the hamlets scattered around. Thus every 
monastery became a centre of civilization, religious and material. 
The monks, too, were the constant referees in disputes, and many 
a fierce feud was brought to a peaceful conclusion by their 
gentle arbitration." The Rule of St. David provided that they 
should refuse all gifts or possessions offered by unjust men, 
that they should live by the labor of their hands, should re- 
veal every temptation and evil thought to their superior, and 
should ask his permission in all that they did. 

It is not difficult to understand that the poor recruited the 
monasteries in large numbers, for poverty and obedience were 
their ordinary lot. But that the grace of God led many of the 


nobles to deny themselves the comforts and pleasures of their 
position, in order to humble themselves to the will of another, 
is a testimony to the beneficent influence of the church com- 
mon to every age of its existence. Great indeed must have 
been the benefit to the district at large when a religious vo- 
cation called its warrior chief from his ordinary pursuits to the 
cloister, and when, clothed in the monastic habit, he dispensed 
to the poor and the sick the necessaries which his wealth pro- 
cured. We read, for instance, of St. Cadocus, son of the British 
prince Gundleus, that when he became Abbot of Llancarvon 
"he reserved a portion of his father's principality to be charita- 
bly distributed to such as had need." " He daily maintained 
a hundred ecclesiastical persons, as many widows, and as many 
other poor people, besides strangers who frequently visited him." 

In the monastery of St. Asaph, founded soon after 543 by 
St. Kentigern, Bishop of Glasgow, the divine praises were kept 
up without intermission. The community consisted of 965 monks. 
" The care of the land, cattle, and of other temporalities, occu- 
pied 600. The remaining 365 were divided into companies, so 
arranged as to preserve in the church a succession of the Divine 
praises all the day and all the night." St. Kentigern was suc- 
ceeded in the abbacy by his pupil, St. Asaph, and from him 
the town of St. Asaph, with its episcopal see, takes its name. 

In the monastic school of Llantwit the Welsh university 
of the period St. Patrick is said to have spent some years of 
his life. For some time prior to 398 he had been living with 
his uncle, St. Martin of Tours, and at his death returned to 
Britain. " At this time Sen Patrick enjoyed a great reputation 
as a learned priest in South Wales, and on arriving at Llant- 
wit his more illustrious namesake placed himself under his care. 
Of Sen Patrick Cardinal Moran writes (Dublin Review, January, 
1880) : " He was a native of Wales, and he adorned the schools 
and monasteries of that country by his learning and virtues. 
He was even for a time the tutor of our great Apostle ; he 
was associated with him in evangelizing our people, but towards 
the close of his life returned to his native land, Wales. A por- 
tion of his relics were in after times enshrined at Glastonbury, 
another portion being preserved at Armagh." To South Wales 
St. Patrick turned for help when Pope St. Celestine commis- 
sioned him to preach the Gospel to the Irish, and "the boys 
who had reverenced him as a master now gladly gathered about 
the standard of the Cross, which he raised in 433, and became 
his devoted and indefatigable co-laborers." Right nobly Ireland 


repaid this her indebtedness to the British Church when, in 
the sixth century, she sent St. Columba to lona, and thus 
founded the venerable monastery there that did so much to 
evangelize our Saxon forefathers. 

Throughout the countries of Europe the footsteps of the chil- 


dren of the British Church may be traced in all directions. Mon- 
talembert gladly acknowledges that Armorica Brittany, Lower 
Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Touraine was " converted and 
repeopled by British emigrants." St. Sampson, born in Wales 
in 496, was educated in one of the schools in his native land 
established by St. Germanus of Auxerre, and raised to the 
episcopate by St. Dubricius. Having passed over to France he 
founded a monastery at Dole, and on the death of the bishop 
of that city was elected in his stead, and in turn was himself 
succeeded by another Briton, St. Magloire, who had been his 
companion in exile; and the relics of both were preserved and 
venerated for ages in the land of their adoption. St. Gildas, 
too, is said to have led the life of a hermit for some time in 
France, till, yielding to the wishes of the people, he founded 
a monastery at Rhuys, in which he is supposed to have written 
his History of the Britons. 

Towards the close of the sixth century the last of the 
British Christians seem to have fled from England, some " to 
the mountains of Cambria, others into Cornwall, and great 
numbers beyond the sea into Brittany and other Christian 


regions." Theonus and Thadioc archbishops respectively of 
London and York did the same in 586. They must have been 
about the last o'f the old hierarchy, since St. Gregory writes to 
St. Augustine soon after the landing of the latter. "As for all 
the bishops in Britain (Wales) we commit them to your care," 
but in the Church of England " you are as yet the only bishop." 

In Canterbury alone the ancient faith was practised by 
Queen Bertha, daughter of Charibert, King of Paris, who in 
590 had married Ethelbert of Kent, " upon condition that she 
should be permitted to practise her religion with Luidhard, 
Bishop of Senlis, who was sent with her to preserve her faith." 
In the Church of St. Martin at Canterbury, which had been 
restored for her use, she and her Christian attendants- heard 
Mass and received the Sacraments at the hands of St. Luid- 
hard. St. Martin's Church still stands, and the long, thin 
Roman bricks in its wall carry us back far beyond the days 
of Queen Bertha. It is, however, not the same building in 
which she worshipped, but was reconstructed from the old 
materials in the. thirteenth century. 

"Authorities, unquestionable and unquestioned, demonstrate 
the existence in the British Church of auricular confession, the 
invocation of saints, the celebration of the Mass, the real 
presence in the Eucharist, ecclesiastical celibacy, fasts and 
abstinence, prayers for the dead, the sign of the cross," venera- 
tion of relics, and the supremacy of the pope. The Britons, 
however, " followed uncertain rules in the observance of the 
great festival." Why ? Because, as Bede tells us, they had 
" none to bring the synodal decrees for the observance of 
Easter," for they were surrounded by their foes, and for a 
time communication with Rome was suspended. 

By the end of the sixth century the Saxon conquest was 
practically complete ; Christianity had been driven out of 
England, but still flourished in Wales. A heroic act of virtue 
was required of the Welsh Christians : that they should preach 
the Gospel to the terrible enemies who had wrenched from 
them the larger part of their lands and possessions. This they 
would not do. They could not rise above the intense animosity 
with which the wrongs inflicted on them had filled their hearts, 
and, as a consequence, they " never preached the faith to the 
Saxons, or English, who dwelt with them in Britain." The 
watchful eye of the Chief Shepherd of Christendom saw all 
this ; his heart was filled with compassion for the pagan Saxons, 
and the " Italian Mission " of St. Augustine was the result. 

1 88 BE YE CULTURED. [Nov., 



ROM the time that Matthew Arnold cried down 
from his watch-tower of culture the message of 
" sweetness and light," a self-conscious genera- 
tion set about, seriously it would seem, to follow 
his gospel and become cultured. Many in Eng- 
land, feeling the truth of the witty French saying that the 
English are a nation of shopkeepers, were awakened into a 
new life by the magic wand of the great high-priest of culture. 
The truths of revelation, Mr. Arnold contends, are not suf- 
ficiently credible, and he would therefore dismiss religion and 
a future life and bend all his energy to making men cultured, 
according to his idea of the word. Culture becomes with him 
the " unum necessarium " the one thing by which the world 
will be saved. Cease to be of the earth, earthy ! Rise above 
the sordid majority ! Get the trick of culture, and then you 
will be supremely happy ! Then you will be " segregatus a 
populo." You will be as gods feeding on ambrosia ! 

To understand this kind of culture one must travel back 
twenty-two centuries, to the time of Plato. He is the great 
founder of Hellenic culture, and it is to him that the moderns 
look. I merely mention Plato in passing, as he is the founda- 
tion stone ; and following the good advice given the novice 
who in his sermon was lingering on the Creation, "to pass on 
to the Deluge," I come to more recent times. 


According to Mr. Walter Pater, who is an authority in the mat- 
ter, Johann Joachim Winckelmann was the first of the moderns to 
understand and rightly interpret Hellenic culture. Growing tired 
of Germany, and feeling within himself an attraction for the south, 

" To the glory that was Greece 
And the grandeur that was Rome," 

he became anxious to find a means by which his ambition 
would be attained. Luckily for him, the papal nuncio, Ar- 
chinto, heard of him and suggested Rome as the proper theatre 
of his work. Winckelmann was converted to Catholicism and 
a place was given to him in the Vatican Library. Goethe, who 

1 897.] BE YE CULTURED. 189 

followed in the footsteps of Winckelmann, says that he cannot 
be excused from an act of insincerity in going over to Rome, 
as he still remained a pagan at heart. Mr. Pater ventures an- 
other solution to free Winckelmann from the charge of insin- 
cerity. He says : " On the other hand, he (Winckelmann) may 
have had a sense of a certain antique and, as. it were, pagan 
grandeur in the Roman Catholic religion. Turning from the 
crabbed Protestantism which had been the weariness of his 
youth, he might reflect that, while Rome had reconciled itself 
to the Renaissance, the Protestant principle in art had cut off 
Germany from the supreme tradition of beauty." 

Whether or not Winckelmann remained a pagan at heart to 
the end, does not concern us in the present writing. He was 
murdered at Trieste for the sake of a few gold medals he had 
won, and before he died he received the last Sacraments. 

In the study of culture the name of Winckelmann is one 
to conjure with. He is to Greek culture, according to one writer, 
what Columbus is to navigation. As Columbus was at fault in 
his science, but had a way of estimating at once the slightest 
indication of land in a floating weed or passing bird, so that he 
seemed to come nearer to nature than other men, so too, in 
the world of culture, where others moved with embarrassment 
Winckelmann was by nature at ease. He was in touch with it. 
It penetrated him and became part of his temperament. 


After Winckelmann, but far surpassing him, came Goethe, 
who was in his day the great apostle of culture. Winckelmann, 
we are told, was so enraptured with Greek culture that he be- 
came a Greek of the olden times. Goethe thought to go fur- 
ther than this and to apply Hellenic culture to modern life. 

In our own day Mr. Walter Pater is the one whose name is 
most closely associated with Greek culture. In his " Conclu- 
sion " to the volume called The Renaissance he sums up for us 
his own ideas in regard to culture : " Well ! we are all condamne's j 
as Victor Hugo says ; we are all under sentence of death, but 
with a sort of indefinite reprieve : Les hommes sont tous con- 
damnes a mort avec des sursis indefmis We have an interval, 
and then our place knows us no more. Some spend this inter- 
val in listlessness, some in high passions ; the wisest, at least 
among ' the children of this world,' in art and song. For our 
one chance lies in expanding that interval, in getting as many 
pulsations as possible into the given time. Great passions may 
give us this quickened sense of life, ecstasy and sorrow of love, 

190 BE YE CULTURED. [Nov., 

the various forms of enthusiastic activity, disinterested or 
otherwise, which come naturally to many of us. Only be sure 
it is passion that it does yield you this fruit of a quickened, 
multiplied consciousness. Of this wisdom, the poetic passion, 
the desire of beauty, the love of art for art's sake, has most ; 
for art comes to you professing frankly to give nothing but the 
highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for 
those moments' sake." 

Such is the culture which comes down to us from the 
Greeks. It is pagan to the end of the chapter. It means 
nothing more than the dedicating one's life to the attainment 
of the highest kind of pleasure which love of art brings with it. 
" L'art pour Tart ! " To live for the sake of, and merely for 
the sake of, the ecstasy which devotion to art produces. What 
a little thing to feed an immortal soul on ! 

Culture, as Mr. Pater understands it, is altogether opposed 
to the Christian spirit. It is at best an empty, vanishing 
thing a crown, if you will, but a perishable one, the attain- 
ment of which can never satisfy a Christian heart. We know 
of sweeter and better things than these false prophets tell us 
of. So we dismiss culture as they understand it. We are not 
pagans, to be suckled on a creed outworn. We have a com- 
mandment : " Seek ye, therefore, first the kingdom of God and 
his justice ; and all these things shall be added unto you." 


Come we now to that other modern prophet of culture 
Mr. Matthew Arnold the apostle of the vague and shadowy 
" Sweetness and Light." Mr. Arnold, in his introduction to 
the anthology entitled The English Poets, after expatiating on 
the great things which poetry will do in the future for the 
English race how it will interpret life for us, console and 
sustain us goes on to make this wonderful statement : " Our 
religion, parading evidences such as those on which the popu- 
lar mind relies now; our philosophy, pluming itself on its 
reasonings about causation and finite and infinite being; what 
are they but the shadows and dreams and false shows of 
knowledge ? The day will come when we will wonder at our- 
selves for having trusted to them, for having taken them 
seriously ; and the more we perceive their hollowness the more 
we shall prize 'the breath and finer spirit of knowledge* 
offered to us by poetry." In this exaggerated passage we 
have Mr. Arnold's doctrine of culture. 

These few phrases give us a very complete idea of his 

1 897.] BE YE CULTURED. 191 

position in regard to religion, and the wonderful effects which 
he thinks will be wrought in the world by poetic culture, when 
"the higher classes will become less material, the middle 
classes less vulgarized> and the lower classes less brutalized." 
Mr. Arnold sets aside religion as something with which we 
have nothing to do a thing not proven. We find ourselves 
in this world, and we must by using the things of this world 
attain our end. Creeds are shaken, dogmas are discredited, 
traditions are fast dissolving, and men if they would be saved 
must place their hopes for the future in what Wordsworth calls 
" the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge," which is poetry. 

Such are the sentiments of Matthew Arnold. He might 
very appropriately have stolen a title from Charles Dickens 
and labelled them " Great Expectations." I do not know what 
course others may take, but as for me this is all fine talk. 
" Words ! words ! words ! " " Such stuff as dreams are made 
of." A Roman candle shot into the air ; pretty coruscations of 
pink and blue lights, and then a stick falls to the earth and 
so falls Mr. Arnold's doctrine of culture. 

One thing which may be noted in passing is, that both 
Mr. Pater and Mr. Arnold agree that Protestantism "in se " is 
a direct enemy of culture. Mr. Pater explains Winckelmann's 
desire to leave Germany for Rome because he was sick unto 
death of " crabbed Protestantism." Mr. Arnold seems to have 
felt in the same way about it. He is credited by Augustine 
Birrell with having made a complete diagnosis of dissent. He 
is said, to have been able, after a few moments' conversation 
with any individual Nonconformist, to unerringly assign him 
to his particular chapel, Independent, Baptist, Primitive Metho- 
dist, Unitarian, or whatever else it might be, and this though 
they had only been talking about the weather. 


I have stated that as Catholics we start in the pursuit of 
culture with the well-defined principle that it is our duty to 
seek first the Kingdom of God. We are fully convinced that 
culture alone will never save a man's soul. It comes, if you 
will, after religion, but a long way after it. We consider cul- 
ture a beautiful thing, but we are not to be fooled by Mr. 
Arnold or Mr. Pater into believing that it is the one thing to 
live and strive for. 

Culture to give a definition "is the formation of the mind 
by which the judgment is able to discern real excellence in 
works of the imagination and the elegant arts." 


192 BE YE CULTURED. [Nov., 

In the present writing I wish to speak of culture only in so 
far as it is concerned with literature. Thus the subject is 
narrowed down to literary culture. In this age-end there seems 
to be a strong desire in the hearts of many to attain to liter- 
ary culture. The winds that blow over the earth carry every- 
where this message, " Be ye cultured ! " 

It was not always thus. In other times men busied them- 
selves rather in tilling the fields and improving the face of 'the 
earth; in " seeking the bubble reputation even at the cannon's 
mouth/' and in fighting for love and dying like the Spanish 
cavalier. But the old order changeth. In these days Univer- 
sity Extension, Summer-Schools, and psychology classes for 
young ladies seem to be necessary in order to satisfy the crav- 
ing for intellectual things. 

In our own country more than in any other, perhaps, is 
this necessity of culture thrust upon us. All over the land 
universities are springing up like mushrooms. Prizes of thou- 
sands of dollars are offered as incentives to writers of fiction. 
Small towns vie with big cities in establishing free libraries. 
In crowded tenement districts, wives of rich men oft remind us 
we can make our lives sublime by attending their free read- 
ings from famous English poets. You enter a car on the ele- 
vated road during business hours and note that nearly every 
young woman has a book. It is weariness of the flesh to add 
further statistics. 

Some time ago an English critic had the hardihood to give 
as his opinion that there were not in England more than two 
thousand persons capable of the spontaneous enjoyment of 
poetry. Taking this opinion as a basis of conjecture, one hopes 
it is not unpatriotic to say that when there is question of this 
side of the water, the number is beautifully less. 

The anonymous author of America and the Americans, after 
noting the fact that in Chicago he found the air surcharged 
with Plato and Browning, waxes angry because of the incessant 
talk about culture when there is so little of the real thing in 
existence there. " I know men and women in France, in Russia, 
in Italy," he indignantly exclaims, " who speak and read half a 
dozen languages, who have travelled over all Europe and much 
of the East, who know and have learned much from distinguished 
people all over the world, who have gone through the hard con- 
tinental school and university training, and who do not dream 
that any one thinks them men and women of pre-eminent culture. 

" But here, God bless you ! these women, who only just 
know how to write their notes of invitation and their letters 

1897-] BE YE CULTURED. 193 

properly, talk of culture. It reminds me of Boston, of Con- 
cord again, and of Plymouth, where, as here, the side issues of 
life, the fringe, the beads, the ornaments of the intellectual 
life, are worn tricked out on the cheap and shabby stuff of an 
utterly inadequate preliminary mental drill." 

The charge made in the above passage is no new one, and I 
must confess that I believe there is a great deal of truth in it. 
. We talk a great deal about culture, but one fancies there is not 
so much of it current among us. The country is young yet and 
time will do a great deal. For the present it would be well 
to free our minds from cant and learn not to parade as great 
knowledge what is merely its passementerie. 


In a recent essay Mr. Augustine Birrell points out the 
special mental exercise which, to his mind, will most likely cul- 
tivate a good taste. First, " a careful study of the great models 
of perfection existing in the subject you are dealing with." 

\ And he considers Homer, Virgil, and Dante better models of 
style and diction than Shakspere and Milton, because the diffi- 
culties attending the study of the former give a better training 
to the mind. Second, " Next to the accurate study of some of 
the great models of perfection I place an easy, friendly, and not 
necessarily a very accurate acquaintance with at least one other 
modern European language, and if it is to be but one, let it 
be French." Third, " I would urge upon the young people I 
see before me to form the habit of reading books of sound 
and sensible reputation." Fourth, "There is, of course, another 
kind of mental exercise necessary for the formation of taste, 
but it needs no time spent upon it. I mean the actual pro- 
cess of making comparisons ! " " By labor and thought, by 
humility, docility, and attention, it is within the power of each 
one of us to acquire a fair share of good taste." 

The opinion Mr. Birrell expresses in this last sentence is an 
encouraging one. Culture is not an impossible thing to attain. 
Patient study, with a few little virtues like humility and docil- 

' ity thrown in, will do the thing for us. Let us then be up 
and doing ! 

It is a race that must be run in the dust and the heat, but 
it is well worth the running. It will not do for us all that 
Mr. Arnold imagined, but it will save us from Philistinism and 
prepare the way for our doing great things for the church in 
this country. 

VOL. LXVI. 13 




HEY had not been watered these ten years, and 
yet they bloomed on, the imperishable lilies ! 
Jeanne knelt and gazed at them, as a woman 
gazes at a child she has parted from and sees 
only once in a sad while. The dew fell, wring- 
ing the fragrance from their deep hearts. A cobweb stretched 
from one blossom to another with a trail of tears across the 
distance. The perfume peopled the night with pleading faces. 
She lifted her eyes to the white wings of her cap, then she 
looked over her shoulder to her wooden shoes and, clasping her 
gnarled hands fiercely, tried to assure herself that she was 
neither masking nor dreaming. It was Jeanne in the flesh 
Jeanne Marie Marteau, one-time wife of Pierre Marteau, net- 
maker. Suddenly she felt there was some one on the steps. She 
looked. She could not mistake the figure there. It was Pierre, 
come over the hills, as she had come, to look at the house which 
they had left ten years ago to travel separate ways. A sus- 
picion, scorn, and then the long, long silence ! He was ten 
years older, in the actual shining of the sun or the wash of 
the waves twice ten years older in his wan look. Over his 
once rosy face a shadow, as black as a crow's wing, hung. 
Moth and rust had not respected him in his grief. Jeanne 
saw it with sad eyes. 

With a pitiful care, she had kept herself as fresh as a rose, 
but to-night her hair was seen to be silvering and she bent 
her face wearily over the lilies, blessing herself with quivering 
fingers. The old love was waking for Pierre. In her heart 
she felt it fluttering for speech and song. 

When she could bear it no longer she crossed the garden 
to touch his sleeve. He was not there. It was his wraith, 
summoned by the lilies. 

A man went by, one man among many in the dusk, for he 
stopped by the garden gate to smell the lilies, and Jeanne had 
never known a man to smell a flower save Pierre. She scoffed 
at herself for thinking the foot-fall was like his. 
The lilies were like living souls in the stillness. 
" We go on blooming whatever comes," they said to her. 
"We do not toil or spin. We cannot set the world aright. 


The world rolls on, in the providence of God, but we wear the 
little garment of silver and snow which He gave us and we 
spend the passion of perfume in our hearts for His sake. 
That is all ! " 

" That is much," said Jeanne, trembling. 

A sweet dreaminess fell upon her. She fancied herself in 
church. It was long since she had knelt in that little stall. 
The Communion-cloth was spread. She heard the delicate 
music of the children's voices ; she saw the sunlight choosing 
the curb's white head to shine on. His blessing fell upon her 
in the crowd, while the candles glowed in the silver sticks on 
the altar, and the incense dimmed the morning lights. The 
sad past, the sadder present, took on a desolate vividness in 
this holy atmosphere. 

With her heart in her throat, she rose from the grass and 
ran across the street to the cure's door. 

" Yes, M'sieur le Cure" will soon be here ; yes, a gentleman 
waits to see him," said the placid housekeeper, and she led 
Jeanne into the parlor. The vision which the lilies had wrought 
had come before her Pierre! She gazed, unabashed. Pierre 
glanced at her. Her blue eyes were filled with a silver light 
which blinded him. 

The cur came at last. It was ten years since he had seen these 
two. Either he did not know them or he feigned forgetfulness. 

" As you came first, I will hear you first, my good man," he 
said to Pierre. 

She saw the wraith arise. 

" I have been parted with my wife these ten years, mon 
pere. I want to make my peace with her." 

" And I ' Jeanne cried, " I want to make my peace with 
my husband." 

They fell on their knees and the cur blessed them. 


Jeanne was many years younger now, as she sat at her 
spinning. Her little boy lay at her feet, watching the black 
shadows of the grape-vine on the lattice. Jeanne herself was 
looking out over the meadow. In the blue distance she saw 
the hay-maker spring from his load and kneel a moment at the 
wayside cross. 

" Your father is coming home," she murmured to the child, 
and he left her and toddled down the road, falling and getting 
to his feet and falling again, until Pierre snatched him up, 
white with dust. 


"What did papa bring you?" asked Jeanne, when Pierre 
flung him into her arms. 

" A boat ! " 

"What did he bring mamma?" said Pierre. 

" Himself ! " whispered Jeanne, all softness. 

"No," said Pierre; but he said no more as he went off to 
unload the hay. 

Jeanne came to the door when she had tucked little Jacques 
in bed. The stars were scattered like wayward clusters of mar- 
guerites over the sky. She saw the moon strike Pierre's huge 
fork, with a bunch of hay in its teeth. She heard the bleating 
of lambs in the meadow. Peasant as she was, she knew the 
beauties of a night at home in Brittany. 

Soon Pierre came back to her, singing. 

"What did you bring me, Pierre?" . 


"Yes; but, Pierre?" 

"Well, then, news a sweet piece of news. You remember" 
his deep voice changed as if for a softer phrase in music " that 
I told you it was the fragrance of the lilies in our old garden 
that sent me to the cure" that night ? " 

" Yes ; and I told you it was the lilies sent me ! " 

" And we thought the lilies bloomed on, with only heaven 
to water them ? " 


"To-day the housekeeper told me that all those long years 
the cure went out every night after dark to water them." 

Jeanne caught her breath, then slowly, reverently made the 
sign of the cross. 

"I remember that the cure once told me, when I was a 
little child, that God often worked a miracle through the fra- 
grance of a flower. I remember that I dreamed of it that 
night. Pierre " Jeanne looked out over the hills " I wonder 
if he is asleep yet? Let us say a prayer for him." 

She knelt and he followed. They lifted their pure faces to 
the skies. 

"May the cure's people love him better," murmured the 
sweet, sweet voice of Jeanne, " may his bird sing sweeter, may 
his big dog guard his slee*p to-night and always may Pierre 
and Jeanne and little Jacques be as lilies before the Tabernacle 
for him, living for him, dying for him " The voice of the man 
took up the prayer " And may Pierre and Jeanne and little 
Jacques know the cure in heaven ! " 




" J'ai toujours pense qu'on avait tort de prendre vis-a-vis de ('Evolution une 
attitude irrevocablement agressive. . . . II y a des idees aux quelles il faut 
que Ton s'accoutume, parcequ'il semble que 1'avenir leur appartienne." (Albert 
de Lapparent, professor of geology at the Institut Catholique, Paris. Letter of 
February 9, 1886, to the learned Dominican, M. D. Leroy.*) 

" The doctrine of Evolution has thus come to be an acceptable and accepted 
doctrine to the general bulk of the men of science of either hemisphere. For my 
own part, I continue, as I have done for so many years, cordially to accept it, etc." 
(" Evolution and Christianity," by St. George Mivart, The Cosmopolitan, June, 


! N discussing the doctrine of evolution one fact 
strikes us at the outset, namely, that those who 
do not accept the doctrine are those whose lives 
have been devoted to the study of the classics, 
whereas those who do accept it have given their 
best years to natural science. Without asking which are the 
more likely to have formed the better opinion the classical 
scholars, or men like Mivart, De Lapparent, Cope, Marsh, Wal- 
lace, and a host of other world-known scientists we propose to 
say a few words in behalf of evolution, or the doctrine which 
teaches that the numberless plants and animals which we see 
around us, instead of being separately created, have been slowly 
developed from a few original forms created by God in the be- 

And let us first appeal to classification, which all the best 
authorities look upon as telling in favor of evolution. Long 
before our day naturalists had observed that there were un- 
doubted facts of structural resemblances in plants and animals, 
extending through groups subordinate to groups, and in order 
to represent these facts in a systematic manner the old-time 
naturalists established a tree-like system of classification. Now, 
the very fact that the natural affinities of countless organisms 
could lend themselves to such a tree-like arrangement of natural 
groups, pretty plainly suggested a genetic affinity between all 
species. In this arrangement the lowest part of the tree of 

* Author of L 1 Evolution restreinte aux especes orgam'ques. 

1 897.] 




life may be taken to represent the lowest organisms so low 
down in the series that we may say, " no complete separation 
exists between the two kingdoms"*; that is to say, between 
the vegetable kingdom and the animal kingdom. But when we 
mount a little higher the trunk divides into two trunks, one of 
which plainly stands for the animal and the other for the 
vegetable kingdom. Then mounting still a little higher, these 
two trunks throw out limbs which represent classes ; and these 
limbs in turn throw out other and smaller limbs or branches 
which represent orders, and these smallei branches again branch 
off into yet smaller and smaller branches representing families 
and genera, until at length we come to twigs, which we may 

* Chalmers Mitchell, Outlines of Biology, p. 100. 


take to represent species. But, although this tree-like arrange- 
ment of organisms undoubtedly suggested that the successively 
arising forms are linked together by ties of genetic affinity, the 
old-time naturalists were so imbued with the idea of separate 
creations that they either remained silent when asked to ex- 
plain their tree, or got out of their quandary by saying that 
the trunks, limbs, branches, and twigs on it represented so 
many separate acts of the Creator. It was not until about the 
middle of the present century that a change came over the 
scientific world, and it was then recognized that the long and 
tortuous chain with so many links, which wound up and around 
the tree of life, and which had so puzzled the old naturalists, 
was nothing else than heredity as expressed in family resem- 
blance. Hereditary characters had been gradually modified 
through the geological ages to suit changing conditions of life 
imposed by a changing environment. The fact that the earlier 
forms of life were, as a general rule, simpler in organization, 
or, as naturalists would say, more generalized than the forms 
which came after them, and that these succeeding forms con- 
tinued, as a general rule, to grow progressively more and more 
unlike larger groups shading off into smaller groups, and these 
successively diminishing in size until at length we come to 
Species received a natural and intelligible explanation through 
the doctrine of evolution.* And let us say that among the 
first to accept evolution was the distinguished Catholic scien- 
tist, St. George Mivart, while not long afterwards his example 
was followed by Albert de Lapparent, the eminent French 
geologist, who is to-day professor of geology at the Institut 
Catholique, in Paris. 

From what we may call the Classification Tree let us now 
turn to the Palaeontological Tree, which in the opinion of the 
highest authorities tells also in favor of evolution. And here 
we come to the testimony of the rocks. But let us say at 
once that while geologists have been able to make a tolerably 
complete record of the several geological formations, the 
record of the fossils which may be contained in these forma- 
tions is by no means complete ; only a small portion of 
the earth has been geologically explored. Not only are the 
vast majority of fossil deposits hidden from sight in sedimentary 
rocks, but three-quarters of the earth is to-day buried under 
the sea. But in order to better appreciate the imperfection of 
the geological record we ask the reader to read chapter x. of 

* The original idea of evolution we owe to the Greeks. 


Darwin's Origin of Species. It is one of the most interesting 
chapters in the book, and St. George Mivart probably had it 
in mind when he wrote (referring to the absence of inter- 
mediate forms) : " This difficulty was, however, met by Dar- 
win, and we think satisfactorily met, by a recognition of the 
great and necessary imperfection of the geological record. Of 
the myriads of animals which die daily, how few leave traces 
of their existence behind them ! Only under exceptional cir- 
cumstances do the remains become fossilized at all, and how 
small a part of the earth's whole surface has been geologically 
explored in a satisfactory manner! "* Nevertheless, the palaeon- 
tological tree throws not a little light on the history of the 
life system. The trained eye recognizes in the vast majority of 
diverging branches of ever-multiplying fossil forms, from the 
lowest on the tree up to the highest, a gradual advance from 
the simple to the complex, from the general to the special ; 
and this progressive change from the low to the high, from 
the simple to the complex, receives a natural explanation 
through evolution. An excellent example of generalized 
characters is to be seen in the earliest bird, Archaeopteryx, 
whose fossil remains were discovered in the Jurassic strata of 
Bavaria. Its teeth, the unreduced, scale-covered digits of its 
wings, its long, vertebrated reptilian tail, composed of twenty- 
one joints, point not dimly to an ancestral form from which 
reptiles and birds diverged. Indeed, a few authorities, despite 
the feathers, consider archaeopteryx a bird-like reptile, instead 
of a reptilian bird. Mounting a little higher in the strata 
(cretaceous) we come to Marsh's toothed birds, which are some- 
what more like modern birds. Hesperornis regalis has only 
twelve joints in its tail ; but it still has a comparatively small 
brain, while its biconcave vertebrae resemble the vertebrae of 
fishes and many of the ancient reptiles. And now turning 
from birds to mammals, we find the argument from the 
palaeontological tree strengthened by Marsh's discovery of 
thirty-seven intermediate fossil forms of the horse family. 

The eocene horse \ Eohippus whose remains were found 
in strata belonging almost to the dawn of the mammal age, is 
only sixteen inches high ; on its fore foot we see four toes and 
a rudimentary one, and on its hind foot are three toes, and it is 
hard to believe that this well-nigh five-toed pigmy is the ancestor 
of our horse. In somewhat higher strata appears an animal, 

*" Evolution and Christianity," The Cosmopolitan, June, 1892. 
f American Museum of Natural History, New York City. 


still very small, yet plainly more horse-like than eohippus ; and 
so on and on, as we ascend higher and higher in the strata, we 
discover other fossil remains which look more and more like 
the horse as we know it, until at last, in the quaternary, 
Equus appears. Now, of course, these thirty-seven intermediate 
forms extending through more than a million years may 
represent thirty-seven separate, special creations : the Almighty 
may have seen fit to make the horse little by little. But if a 
natural explanation of these many changing forms is given to 
us by the doctrine of development, we surely need not accept 
a supernatural explanation of the phenomena. But it would 
require too much space to cite the whole body of evidence 
derived from palaeontology in support of evolution ; we there- 
fore beg the reader to read Cope's Primary Factors of Organic 

And now, turning from the palaeontological tree to the em- 
bryological tree, we find a striking correspondence between 
them ; and their evidence likewise corresponds with the classifi- 
cation tree. The science of comparative embryology founded 
by Von Baer in a number of cases gives the family history 
repeated in the individual history. By this we mean that the 
life history of the individual is a recapitulation of the various 
forms which the individual has passed through in its long 
descent. Now, if we accept the doctrine of evolution, the 
transformations of the embryo become intelligible ; otherwise 
they are unintelligible. For example, in all gill-breathing 
vertebrates the gill-slits and gill-arches are permanent, whereas 
in the air-breathing vertebrates the gill-slits on the sides of 
the neck and the gill-arches of the large blood-vessels are 
found as transitory stages of development ; and observe well 
that at the very time when the embryo of an air-breathing 
vertebrate possesses these gill-slits and gill-arches, its heart 
has two chambers, like the heart of a fish. But when the 
embryo has developed a little further its heart becomes the 
heart of an amphibian ; while developing still further, it has 
four chambers, which belong to the double circulation of birds 
and mammals. Moreover, the lungs of an air-breathing verte- 
brate which finally take the place of gills become during 
embryonic life modified from the swim-bladder of a fish. 

Do not these progressive modifications suggest a descent 
from a far-off aquatic ancestor? To quote again St. George 
Mivart :* " . . . each individual animal in the process of 

* ' Evolution and Christianity," The Cosmopolitan, June, 1892. 

1 897.] 




its individual development goes through a series of stages in 
which it successively presents a series of general resemblance 
to other animals of lower kinds. Thus, a very young dog is 
(long before its birth) in many respects like a fish, etc." Now, 
as these various changes displayed in the developing embryo 
of this vertebrate have no relation to the dog's ultimate mode 
of life, it seems not unreasonable to see in them different 
stages of its ancestral history. And let us add that in the 
other great branches of the tree of life, embryology furnishes, in 
many cases, the same evidence as in the case of the verte- 
brates evidence of continuous descent with adaptive modifica- 


But if we are to believe that species were separately and 
directly created, then it does seem passing strange that dur- 
ing embryonic life there should appear such indications yet 
such misleading indications of development from lower forms. 
Here we quote again from Professor . Mivart : " If we assume 
that new species of animals have been evolved by natural 
generation from individuals of other kinds, all the various indi- 
cations of affinity just enumerated thereby simultaneously 
acquire one natural and satisfactory explanation ; while we can 
think of no other possible explanation of the enigma." * 

If we were asked why we have written these few pages in 
behalf of evolution, we could truthfully answer that it is be- 
cause we ardently desire those who belong to the Qld Church 
the church which is to live and spread when the other forms 
of Christian worship have melted away into agnosticism to 
lay aside their aggressive attitude towards this doctrine. Evo- 
lution is to-day very generally accepted by the men' of science 
of America, England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Russia ; 
and since the church does not forbid Catholics to accept it 
provided we believe in God and in immortality it were well 
and wise for many of us to devote more time than we do to 
natural history ; for it is only by a deeper study of animated 
nature, as well as by more enthusiasm for palaeontology and 
geology, that we shall be able to justly weigh and appre- 
ciate the converging evidence in favor of evolution, and then 
with our increased knowledge will come greater charity towards 
those who reject the old-time theory of the special creation of 
species. Here we give another and a last quotation from St. 
George Mivart ; it is taken from a very significant letter writ- 
ten a few months ago to the London Tablet : " In my conten- 
tion with Professor Huxley, as in my subsequent contentions 
with others, I have always had two objects in view : the first 
of these was to show non-Catholics to be mistaken in thinking 
the church condemned what to them were evident scientific 
truths. My second and far more important object was to hin- 
der those who (with a want of charity to me appalling) would 
close the portals of the church against all who in science, his- 
tory, or criticism were less ignorant than themselves. We often 
hear warnings against scandalizing the weak ; is no charity 
due to the strong?" 

* " Evolution and Christianity," The Cosmopolitan, June, 1892. 




HE Viceroy of Ireland has directed the Under 
Secretary to send to the correspondent of the 
New York World a message to the effect that 
the predictions of an approaching famine " are 
unjustifiable." He may be officially correct in 
denying that anything so disastrous could happen in the year 
in which the Diamond Jubilee of Her Majesty's reign has been 
happily celebrated. It is social shrewdness to lock the closet 
that contains the skeleton. Whether it is sound policy to con- 
ceal a national calamity is another question. It may be oppor- 
tunism, but it is not statesmanship. We do not know whether 
the festivities of the Jubilee were clouded by an occasional 
thought of plague and famine in India. To all appearance 
the crowds that lined the road of the procession were in 
holiday humor. A procession through the streets of Rome at- 
tending the triumphal car of Nero could not have been more 
successful than the march of the army, the colonial cohorts, 
the mercenaries of the subject races through the streets of 
London on that day. We are ready to believe that the cheers 
along the Appian, the Vicus Appolinaris, or the Via Sacra, which 
thundered at the sight of Nero, could not exceed in volume 
those that expressed the enthusiasm of London, the United 
Kingdom, the colonies, the dependencies, at sight of the car- 
riage in which sat the plain, motherly woman who rules so 
many lands by the Bill of Rights. 

And that Bill of Rights secures to Irishmen the privilege of 
dying of famine amid the matchless pasture lands of their 
country; to Indians, that of starving in the granary of India; 
to Africans, the joy of dying in mines to make the fortunes of 
speculators, stock-jobbers, dukes, and royal princes. From bal- 
cony and window Irish landlords and their families, dressed in 
the height of fashion, gazed on the spectacle. Who, seeing 
them, could think fair rents had ruined them, or unpaid rents 
had made them beggars? They should have kept up the farce 
of living in poor lodgings, wearing threadbare clothes, if they 
hoped that the Scotch hotel-keeper who represented them in 
Parliament should win a hearing for their tale of woe. They 
are still asking for alms from the state, as they have been since 
1876, when competition from America and Australia threatened 


their rentals. The only difference is in the tone ; the whine of 
mendicancy has been changed to the highway robber's demand, 
"Your money or your life!" The government of the Crimes 
Act is again in power, and so they have thrown away the mask 
of humble and unmerited misfortune and brazen out their claims 
upon the public purse with all the effrontery of sturdy beggars. 

They are the disgrace of Ireland, as they were always the 
cause of her misfortunes. In their heyday their insolence and 
swagger were the theme of English satirists and pressmen. 
Buffoons in comic papers and buffoons in society ridiculed 
them. The private secretaries and body-servants of ministers 
regarded them with horror. They haunted the back-stairs by 
day and night, asking for appointments for sons, for cousins to 
thirty degrees, for namesakes. It would not do to treat them 
rudely, for they had one redeeming quality. They could fight. 
But so could a highwayman or a sturdy beggar. They gave 
Englishmen the excuse for saying that Ireland was the blot 
upon the fair shield of England. They now draw great rents 
when rent cannot be raised in England. They have no mercy, 
no thought for their tenants, in a worse condition than negroes 
under the West Indian planters. For them the tenants worked 
without sufficient food through hopeless lives. They did noth- 
ing but squeeze rents until they went beyond the capacity of 
the tenants' credit to produce them. Then followed eviction 
with its consequences, a page of social misery which no pen 
can write, no mind conceive. 

How Lord Cadogan and the landlords behind him can deny 
the gravity of the present crisis is inexplicable, when the Irish 
Tory papers are unanimous in the opinion that the people are 
face to face with the worst year since 1848. These organs can- 
not be accused of undue sympathy with the masses of the 
population. They have hitherto done the work of the govern- 
ment and the ruling class with unswerving fidelity ; but it 
seems that there is a limit to the servility or corruption of 
Irish Tory journalism, and the limit has been reached, at least 
in this matter. The deaths in cabins where the creatures hid 
themselves from the dishonor of the poor-house, deaths on the 
wayside, in the fields amid half-devoured herbs, deaths at the 
poor-house door to which so many dragged themselves, yielding 
up their decent pride in the struggle with that calamity which 
abases the greatest to the level of the least, must have come 
across the editors of those papers with a force that would 
not permit them to remain silent when such things were 
about to occur again. Here we have the explanation of the 


language of the official or semi-official organs in direct contra- 
diction to the message sent by the head of the Irish govern- 
ment to the people of America through the New York World. 
He has flung down his gage ; we take it up, and so God de- 
fend the right ! as men used to say in trial by wager of battle. 
The lord lieutenant denies the reports of a disastrous harvest 
and pronounces the " predictions " of an imminent famine 
"unjustifiable." This means that government will not step in 
to save the poorer classes among the farmers and the laborers ; 
in other words, that their only dependence must rest on private 
charity and such efforts as, within the limits of their powers, 
may be made by the Poor Law Unions. Practically, the unions 
can accomplish very little more than private charity. The 
persons to be relieved are bound to pay a portion of the poor- 
rate ; many of those not likely to be reduced to the necessity 
of obtaining relief will be taxed beyond what they can bear; 
those who stand in the most favorable circumstances will feel 
the burden an oppressive one ; finally, if the destitution should 
be anything in proportion to what the Tory papers maintain, 
the whole resources of the unions will be miserably inadequate 
to the occasion. In 1848 the poor-rate exceeded twenty shillings 
in the pound ; at the present time in a number of unions it ex- 
ceeds one-third of the valuation; in a few unions, for some time, 
crying out for relief, the rates could not be levied because there 
were no assets or insufficient assets. This last statement is im- 
portant, because Lord Cadogan ought not to be ignorant of the 
fact. Why is it ? Because the Irish Local Government Board 
dissolved the boards of guardians in the bankrupt unions, and 
appointed in their place paid guardians from its own officials. 
These are now administering the affairs of those unions, in the 
same way as liquidators of an estate in bankruptcy or assignees 
of a bankrupt would administer his estate. The sealed order of 
the Local Government Board is sufficient to dissolve the boards 
elected by the rate-payers. This cannot have been done through 
economy, because the paid guardians receive large salaries, while 
the elected guardians serve gratuitously ; it cannot have been 
through solicitude for the destitute, because these jacks-in- 
office are strangers, and not so accessible as the elected 
guardians, who are the neighbors of those needing relief, men 
who know all about them and their families, and who must 
possess the sympathy of ancient neighborhood. Then why have 
these boards been dissolved? To punish them for not ac- 
complishing the impossible. It is one out of a thousand 
instances of the insolent disregard for public opinion exhibited 


by the bureaus which govern Ireland. These things can hardly 
have been unknown to the lord lieutenant, since Mr. Gerald 
Balfour, the chief secretary, is president of the Local Govern- 
ment Board, and is supposed to inform the head of the ex- 
ecutive of all acts of administration. If he has not done so, 
Lord Cadogan may be officially ignorant of the bankrupt circum- 
stances of those unions ; but he is not an authority to satisfy us 
that the reports concerning the disastrous condition of the people 
and the gloomy forebodings it portends are " unjustifiable." 

Official denial of destitution is by no means a new expedient. 
When Mr. Arthur Balfour was chief secretary, a few years 
ago, he treated similar representations with contempt. They 
came from every quarter and from classes worthy of credit; 
but he knew better than corporations, boards of guardians, 
town commissioners, clergymen. The only thing needed was 
a firm administration of the Crimes Act. He is a humane and 
honorable man, but he was in the hands of the official class, 
the landlords and their entourage. The most favorable judg- 
ment to be pronounced on his brother, the present chief 
secretary, is that he too is in their hands. It is likely we shall 
witness the same round. Some public men and some news- 
papers will use language of a wild sort, but natural under the 
circumstances. The first will be sent to jail, the papers will be 
prosecuted for seditious libel, thousands of the people will be 
allowed to die, if the charity of an impoverished country and of 
foreign nations will not save them. These few cold words tell 
the policy of government in Ireland. Is it not condemned on 
the bare recital ? 

It may seem invidious to say that the policy of the present 
government is due to the divisions among the Irish members 
of Parliament. It is an extraordinary policy, one about which 
it is hard to say whether it is more remarkable for contemptu- 
ous disregard of the interests of the people at large, or un- 
wise concern for the privileges of a discredited section of the 
people. In no country except India would a small body of 
men be maintained in affluence at the expense of the rest of 
the population. But the partiality which saves from suffering 
the official class in India is based on the knowledge that it dis- 
charges functions of justice and administration. For these it is 
supported, but the Irish landlords are upheld in wealth and 
power for no services ; so much are they the favorites of gov- 
ernment that economic laws which affect all the world are 
blotted from the code of Providence in their regard. 

Mr. Herbert Spencer once complained that particular legis- 


lation was attempting to repeal a law of nature, and therefore 
could not be successful. But he knew nothing of the defiant 
cynicism which informs the protecting spirit that presides over 
the fortunes of Irish landlords. At their pleasure the opera- 
tions of nature are superseded. Harvests may fail, famine and 
pestilence may walk over the land, the competition of foreign 
products destroy the markets, but their rents must remain un- 
touched. Men speak of the omnipotence of Parliament. It has 
passed laws to import some measure of equity into the rela- 
tions of Irish landlords with their tenants. On the statute book 
the Irish tenant is now a favored being in comparison with his 
father, who dared not call his soul his own. But it is all a 
show, it is baseless as a dream, refreshing as dead-sea fruits 
that turn to ashes on the lips. One seeks in vain for words to 
tell his wonder at the influence and fortune that rise superior 
to all elements of the physical and of the moral worlds. 

We are not exaggerating; up to this point we have been 
underrating the matter. The land laws are a dead-letter. Eco- 
nomic causes have deeply affected rents in England, they have 
no force in Ireland ; but because land laws have been enacted 
which if fairly administered would lower rents, and because 
economic causes are spoken of as rendering land of little value, 
the state is about to compensate the Irish landlords as though 
the economic laws were really operative. In other words, they 
are to be compensated under this heading as if they sustained 
loss in fact instead of in theory. This need surprise no one, 
for Irish landlords possess a talent for making " commodity," as 
Falstaff would say, out of everything. If they meet with acci- 
dents in the hunting-field or attending petty sessions, they will 
demand police guards to protect them. The guards are found 
useful at the dinner-table, in the stables, in the garden, and 
the services of a butler, a groom, or a gardener can be dis- 
pensed with. However, all these privileges and advantages pale 
when placed side by side with the last scheme for endowing 
them for an imaginary loss of income. 

It is difficult for strangers to take in the full meaning of 
the Irish landlord's position in relation to the state and to his 
tenants. If Parliament proposed to do for English landlords 
any of the things done for Irish ones, there would be a revo- 
lution. Still, the English landlord has at least an incomparably 
better claim to come on the public purse for loss of income 
owing to foreign competition than the other has. He has let 
his farm to the tenant fully equipped as a going concern. If 
VOL. LXVI. 14 


free trade has been the means of reducing his income one-half, 
and this it is pretty generally stated has been the effect in the 
long run, he could only receive rent for the expenditure on 
the farm and not for the land. On the contrary, in Ireland 
all the expenditure has been made by the tenant ; on this ex- 
penditure of his own he has been paying fines in the shape of 
increased rent, so that a possession of forty years under such 
conditions must have purchased the fee simple at least twice 
over. Now, this means that Irish landlords, instead of hav- 
ing an interest in their estates, are debtors to their tenants, 
taking the limitation of forty years for the entire fee simple 
that is the entire value of the estate. 

This is a view which, so far as we know, has not been pre- 
sented. It was dimly hinted in Mr. Parnell's famous declara- 
tion that the landlord's rent should be measured at the prairie- 
value, but, as the reader may perceive, the present statement is 
fundamentally different, because it not only extinguishes all 
equitable title to rent, but gives the tenant a lien on the in- 
heritance up to its full value.* But while running up this debt to 
their tenants they were incurring debt in all directions. In the 
year 1880 the mortgages on Irish estates amounted to i6o t - 
000,000. At that time, exclusive of the cities of Cork and Dub- 
lin, the valuation of the country for taxation was a little over 
.12,000,000 a year. Deducting cities and towns, under improve- 
ment acts the agricultural valuation would be less than ll,- 
000,000 a year. Allowing "1,000,000 a year as the rental of 
unencumbered estates, it would leave the valuation of the en- 
cumbered estates at the figure of "10,000,000, the capitalized 
value of which, when land still stood high in 1880, would be 
200,000,000. Even at that time, before the Land Law Act of 
1 88 1 was passed, before there was a court created for the fix- 
ing of fair rents, the Irish landlords had not a scintilla of in- 
terest in their estates. On our figures it would seem they had 
an interest of .40,000,000. No such thing ; for the interest on 
that sum would be 2,000,000 a year, but they paid "500,000 
a year to their agents, solicitors, and bailiffs for the collection 
of rents, 500,000 a year for poor-rate, 60,000 a year for quit 
rent and crown rent, and about 300,000 a year for tithe-rent 
charge. f This would leave them, assuming the highly favorable 
circumstance of full and promptly paid rent, a margin of 18,800,- 
ooo, but the familiar fact of non-payment of rent in a percen- 

*Of course we do not use the word "equitable" in the legal-equitable meaning; 
that is, we do not mean an equity that could be enforced by a court of equity, 
t It may have been a little more. 


tage of cases removes this ; so that the whole value of the 
landlords' interest in the land disappears. Now, it is for these 
bankrupts that the people have been plagued by every kind of 
legislative, administrative, and judicial visitation since the year 
1692. The skill of lawyers in Parliament was employed in de- 
vising enactments that would deprive them of any vestige of 
right under the ancient relation of tenure. The student of 
feudal law will remember that the policy of that system was 
to give protection by status connected with a manor or other 
lordship. This was gradually eaten away by acts of the Irish 
Parliament, an assembly more than two-thirds of which were 
owners of pocket-boroughs. The landed interest consequently 
was absolute. In the courts the same lawyers maintained 
at the bar and on the bench the policy of the enactments, in 
the executive the same lawyers and the landlords imprisoned, 
banished, executed the tenants into a proper state of submis- 
sion to their will, which stood for the state, for all things hu- 
man and divine. 

What we have been saying is very capable of proof. Up to 
1845 there was a local or general famine, on an average, every 
four years. We have elsewhere said, that the history of the 
country for a century and a half can be measured by Olympiads 
of famine. From 1845 until 1849 famine swept off the inhabi- 
tants in myriads, and yet during these years the yield of the 
harvests was immense. It was sent to England and the pro- 
ceeds went to the landlords. Almost every year since 1852 
there has been great destitution in some parts of the country, 
and actual famine has reaped its harvest of death in some dis- 
tricts at intervals of three or four years. The population is, 
we think, very little above four millions and a half ; it is still 
decreasing, but the poor-rate is rising and so are the other 
taxes, not relatively but absolutely rising. Those who pay 
taxes this year will probably be on the rates themselves next 
year, and so, blindfolded, the country is driven to some unim- 
aginable doom. We write as if oppressed by a horror from 
which there is no escape. We cannot see light ; everything seems 
governed by a capricious and malignant power whose acts no 
one can forecast and which nothing can resist. But, despite 
our despair, we hope there is among Irishmen in America and 
Irish-Americans a spirit that will send back to Lord Cadogan 
an answer to his message which shall be remembered as long 
as the British Empire grows great by the oppression, rich by 
the robbery of subject peoples. 





HE story of " The Old Mountain "Mount St. 
Mary's College, Emmitsburg, Md. may almost 
be said to be the history of the rise and 
growth of Catholic education in the United 
States ; nay, more a prouder title still may be 
justly claimed for " The Nursery of Bishops," for out of her 
venerable halls, in her nearly ninety years of existence, have 
gone forth men who have been pioneers of the Faith, founders 
of great dioceses and noble institutions of learning in every 
part of our country, and who, with a long roll of distinguished 
laymen, have shed lustre upon the name of their Alma Mater. 
In July, 1791, a young priest, flying from the fury of the 
French Revolution, landed at Norfolk, Va. Unable to take 
the oaths prescribed by the infidels then ruling France, he 
obtained a letter of commendation and passports from Lafay- 
ette, with whom he was acquainted. The young man was 
John Dubois, the founder of "The Mountain" and in after 
years the first Bishop of New York. He was born in Paris, 
August 24, 1764, and was educated in the College of Louis le 

1 897.] 



Grand the Alma Mater of the great Charles Carroll of Car- 
rollton. Bearing the letters of the friend of America, he was 
warmly welcomed by the Randolphs, the Lees, the Beverleys, 
by Monroe and Patrick Henry, and as a special mark of es- 
teem was given permission to celebrate Mass in the State- 
house at Richmond, a hitherto unheard-of concession from the 
religious intolerance of the time. 

Removing in 1794 to Frederick, Md., some twenty miles 
from the present col- 
lege, Father Dubois 
attended a vast mis- 
sionary field, for at 
this time he and the 
Rev. Mr. Badin, in 
Kentucky, were the 
only priests between 
Frederick and St. 
Louis. During this 
period the deep 
needs of the church 
and the almost total 
lack of Catholic edu- 
cation deeply im- 
pressed his mind. 
At length, selecting 
a spot midway on the 
mountain-side the 
Blue Ridge Moun- 
tains he erected a 
little church as a 

beacon-light to the entire valley and dedicated it to Mary, 
under the title of the Church of Mount St. Mary's. Bid- 
ding farewell to Frederick in 1808, he took possession of a 
log house near the site of the future college. Here were now 
erected the row of log buildings which served as the first sub- 
stantial home of the little school. 

Mr. Dubois' original intention was to confine his work ex- 
clusively to the preparation of candidates for the priesthood, 
and his first large accession of students came with sixteen 
young men who, in 1809, were transferred to him by the Sul- 
picians of the College and Seminary of St. Mary's in Balti- 
more, from a school founded by that order in Pennsylvania. 
In five years the number of students had risen to eighty, the 





course had been enlarged to embrace the chief branches of a 
collegiate education, and the seminary and the academical 
school, as yet without a charter as a college, became firmly 
established each supplementing the other in the great work 


designed by the founder. In June, 1809, Mother Seton, the 
foundress of the Sisterhood of Charity, removed from Balti- 
more with a portion of her community, and took up land in 
the valley about two miles from the Mountain and near the 
then little hamlet of Emmitsburg. While the dwelling was 
being erected on this land, the little community occupied the 
log house on the mountain-side first used by Mr. Dubois, which 
he had left for the log buildings below. Out of the valley 
community grew the great institution of St. Joseph's Academy, 
the mother-house of the Sisters of Charity, that beautiful and 
ever-flowing spring of all good works. 

But the labors of the seminary, college, and missionary 
work becoming too great, Mr. Dubois was relieved, in 1812, as 
spiritual superior of St. Joseph's, by Father Simon Brut 
justly called " the guardian angel of the Mount " who in after 
years became the first Bishop of Vincennes. He, too, was a 
son of France. The honors of the new Empire were freely 





offered him, but his heart was set upon apostolic labors in the 
new world. Elected to the presidency of St. Mary's College, 
Baltimore, in 1815, he resigned after three years, and again 
sought his beloved Mountain. The log houses becoming too 
small, Mr. Dubois and Mr. Brute" set resolutely to work to 
erect a stone building. They labored with their own hands, 
helped dig the foundations, gathered the materials from the 
mountain-side, and at last, on June 6, 1824, finished the work. 
That very night a fire swept the new building with all its con- 
tents into ruins. 

Standing beside the burning structure, Mr. Brute, his face 
lit up by the flames, said: " The Lord gave, and the Lord 
hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." Then he 
added : " There were defects in this ; I will remedy them in 
the next." This was the spirit which glowed then in the breasts 
of the Mountaineers the spirit that has lit, in the long years 
since, the flame of religion and learning on a thousand hills. 

Within a year, so great was the growing strength of the 
institution, a new and larger building was erected, and became 
the centre of the group that was to spring up about it. This 
structure, so endeared to all generations of " Mountaineers," is 
known as " The Old White House." It is now occupied by 

216 " THE OLD MOUNTAIN:' [Nov., 

the commercial department of the college. Soon after the 
opening of the new building Mr. Dubois was appointed first 
Bishop of New York, and it is a remarkable fact that each 
succeeding occupant of that see, including Archbishop Hughes, 


Cardinal McCloskey, and his Grace Archbishop Corrigan, has 
been a " Mountaineer." When Mr. Dubois opened his college- 
seminary there were only sixty-eight priests in the one diocese 
from Maine to Georgia, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Dur- 
ing the years of his work alone he sent out forty missionary 
priests, equipped hundreds of young men with a sound education, 
and inflamed them with lively faith and love of Mother Church. 
The first charter of the college was obtained from the State 
of Maryland in the session of 1830, under the presidency of 
the Rev. John B. Purcell, the late Archbishop of Cincinnati. 
In the succeeding years addition after addition was made to 
the college buildings, and the academical course of the institu- 
tion was broadened and strengthened through the services of 
distinguished professors, cleric and lay. No story of " The 
Mountain " would be complete without a more than passing 
mention of Father John McCaffrey. This truly great man was a 
genuine product of " The Mountain," receiving there his earliest 

1 897.] 




education and preferring before all honors, even the mitre which 
could, many times, have been his, the home upon the mountain- 
side and the work which he held as his peculiar vocation. Dr. 
McCaffrey was president of the college from 1838 to 1872, and 
president emeritus from that year until 1882, the time of his 
death. During the period of his strength and activity he was 
famous throughout the country for his learning, his Christian 
zeal, and his eloquence. He was the golden link between "The 
Mountain " of the pioneer, heroic past and the present the 
very incarnation of the spirit and traditions of the old place. 
Only second to him in this respect was Dr. John McCloskey 
" Father John " president from 1872 to 1877, and again in 1880 
a true son of " The Mountain " from his youth to old age. 
Like Dr. McCaffrey, nothing could induce him to part from the 
love of his youth, and both these builders of heavenly things 
lie buried to-day in the little churchyard on the mountain- 
side. Nor would this period be complete without a mention 
of Dr. McMurdie. Born in London and reared in the Church 
of England, he followed Newman and Manning into the 
Catholic Church. During many years he taught theology, 
philosophy, and metaphysics at the college, and the fame of his 
learning became truly national. Likewise among the great 
men of this period, whose lives were linked with the " Mountain," 




was George H. Miles, the poet. He was professor of English 
literature. His tragedy " Mahomet " won the prize of $1,000 
for the best drama written in America, and was produced by 
Edwin Forrest. Dr. Henry Diehlmann, the distinguished musi- 
cal composer, was for many years, during this time, professor 
of music at the college, and among its staff was Father John 


O'Brien, the distinguished author of The History of the Mass. 
But before mentioning other noted sons of "The Mountain" 
we will briefly trace her story to the present. 

The outbreak of the war was a great blow to the institution. 
From its foundation it had been largely attended by Southern 
students, and at this period the chief attendance was from the 
Southern States. The ruin of the South's resources as a result 
of the war was, therefore, a heavy blow to the college ; and, 
moreover, many of the Southern students remained at the 
college during the entire conflict, and, at the close, their home 
support had been swept away. This was a source of deep 
embarrassment to the institution, which had, from the beginning, 
waged a heavy struggle, without endowments of any kind. 
Now the college was loaded with a heavy debt and found, 
during the years immediately succeeding the war, its sources 
of ordinary income cut to a minimum. In 1877 the Rev. John 
A. Watterson became president, succeeding Dr. McCloskey. He 

1 897.] " THE OLD MOUNTAIN." 219 


added greatly to the prestige and equipment of the institution 
under trying circumstances, and remained in charge until 1880, 
when he was elevated to the Bishopric of Columbus, Ohio his 
present see. Like the typical " Mountaineer/' amid the cares 
and labors of his episcopal charge he has never forgotten his 
Alma Mater and he has remained one of her staunchest sons 
and supporters. Dr. John McCloskey again took the presidency; 
but, worn by the labors of years and, doubtless, depressed by 
the growing difficulties of the situation, he died within the year. 
The Rev. William J. Hill, of Brooklyn, a " Mountaineer," suc- 
ceeded to the presidency early in 1881, but already so great had 
grown the burden of the debt and the embarrassment accom- 
panying it that the college was placed for a time in the deep- 
est difficulty. At this crisis the Very Rev. William Byrne, 
D.D., vicar-general of the Archdiocese of Boston, a " Moun- 
taineer " of the mould of the heroic founder, accepted the 
herculean task of saving the institution. He went to the 





Mountain and at once rallied to his support the sons and 
friends of the old college throughout the country. Among the 
first to respond were the Cardinal-Archbishop of Baltimore and 
Archbishop William Henry Elder of Cincinnati. The Rev. 
Father Mackey, a " Mountain " priest of the latter diocese, 
through the permission of Archbishop Elder, gave all his time 
to the work of uniting the friends of the college everywhere. 
In this he was singularly successful. The sentiment was uni- 
versal that the college should not be allowed to go down, and 
through heroic efforts, under the direction of Dr. Byrne, the 
crisis was ended and the imminent peril of destruction averted. 
Nor can we who know the noble record of the old Mountain 
believe that, in her hour of danger, the prayers of her sainted 

1 897.] 




founders and sons were withheld or were unavailing for the 
intercession of the patron Mother whose church looked down 
from the mountain slope. Dr. Byrne retained the presidency 
until 1884, when he was succeeded by the Rev. Edward P. Allen. 




Dr. Allen was born in Lowell, Mass., in 1853. He entered 
Mount St. Mary's College and was graduated June 26, 1878. 
In December of 1884 he was ordained priest in the Mountain 
Church by Bishop Becker. Remaining until the following spring 
as professor, he was called to the mission by Archbishop Williams 
of Boston, and became assistant at Framingham. Two years 
later, through the efforts of Dr. Byrne, Father Allen was permit- 
ted to go to Mount St. Mary's to assist in the work of reconstruc- 
tion. The college had been saved from immediate destruction, 
but it was still heavily loaded with debt and in need of many 

things. To the task of re- 

^fj^ moving the debt of many 

thousands of dollars and the 
extension of material facili- 
ties Dr. Allen addressed him- 
self. He had gone through 
all departments of the college, 
as a student, then as a semi- 
narian, and was therefore 
thoroughly conversant with its 
needs. Joining to these quali- 
fications the ability of an able 
financier, a close student of 
educational needs and the 
quality of a leader of men, 
he soon had the college far 
advanced on the road of pros- 
perity and progress. The 
buildings and the grounds 
assumed a new aspect, im- 
provements were noted everywhere, and the teaching staff of 
the college and seminary was strengthened by the addition 
of a number of learned professors. Among those who have 
for years been pillars of strength to the institution through 
their learning and devotion are Professor Ernest Lagarde, of 
English literature and modern languages, and Professor Charles 
H. Jourdan, noted throughout the country as a mathematician. 
Among the faculty is the Rev. Edward F. X. McSweeny, 
S.T.D., the distinguished Professor of Ecclesiastical History 
and Canon Law, and the Rev. John J. Tierney, D.D., Profes- 
sor of Dogmatic Theology, Sacred Scripture, and Hebrew. Dr. 
Tierney has studied and travelled much in the Holy Land. He 
has thus pursued a course of intimate practical knowledge, 


I 897.] 




similar somewhat to that adopted by his friend the Rev. Daniel 
Quinn, of the Greek department of the Catholic University. 
Dr. Quinn, an ardent " Mountaineer," has acquired, by long 
residence and study in Greece, a perfect mastery of the Greek 
language and literature, and has won a place among the great 
Hellenists of the world. 

The Rev. Dr. Grannan, another " Mountaineer," is also high 
in the corps of professors of the university. 

Through the indefatigable energy of Dr. Allen and his co- 
adjutors the debt of the college has finally been removed, the 
attendance has greatly increased, and a new period of useful- 
ness inaugurated. Nor were the qualities of Dr. Allen that ac- 
complished this great result unnoticed, for on May 16, this 
year, he was raised to the Bishopric of Mobile, and was con- 
secrated in the cathedral at Baltimore by his Eminence Cardi- 
nal Gibbons. 

During this period of reconstruction Dr. Allen's right arm 
in the work was the Very Rev. William L. O'Hara, the Vice- 
President and Professor of Moral Theology and Philosophy. It 
was most natural and fitting, therefore, that, upon the elevation 
of Dr. Allen, to Father O'Hara should fall the duty and the 
honor of the presidency of Mount St. Mary's. He was accord- 
ingly unanimously elected, last June, by the council and has 
now entered upon his office. Father O'Hara is a native of 

22 4 



Brooklyn, New York, and entered the college as a student in 
1879 and was graduated in 1883. Entering the seminary, he was 
ordained in 1887. For a short time he was connected with St. 
Charles Borromeo's Church in Brooklyn, but soon after was 


recalled to " The Mountain " to act as Professor of Logic and 
Metaphysics. In 1891 he was elected Treasurer; in 1894, Vice- 

He is therefore, as was Dr. Allen, intimately acquainted 
with every phase of the college life. He is a typical " Moun- 
taineer," devoted to the old place, steeped in her noblest tradi- 
tions, and at the same time alive with all the ideas of the living 
present. As he can truly say of the present prosperous condi- 
tion of the college " quorum magna pars fui," he can, with every 
hope for an unexampled growth of the institution, take up the 
great work so far advanced by the Bishop of Mobile. 

The promotion of Dr. Allen to the episcopate has led to 
many changes in the Faculty, and the new arrangement, that 
will conduce very largely to the intellectual advancement of 
both college and seminary, places Dr. McSweeny Director of 
the Seminary; Father Dominic Brown, Vice-President ; Father 
Bradley, Treasurer, while Dr. Tierney holds his old chair. 
Fathers Coad and McGovern cultivate the classics. Professor 
Mitchell has the chair of Geology, Natural Philosophy, and 

1 8 9 7-] 



VOL. LXV. 15 




Mechanics; Professor Edmund J. Ryan, of English and 
Rhetoric ; Professor Frederick W. Iseler, of Music ; Professor 
John J. Crumlish, A.M., of Commercial Law and Bookkeep- 
ing. There are also many assistant instructors. 

Among the students are a number of societies, literary, dra- 
matic, and athletic. The Mountaineer is the college paper, 
edited by a staff of students, which last year comprised : 

William E. Kennedy, '97, Editor-in-chief ; Edward B. Kenna, 
'98, Exchange Editor; Leo A. McTighe, '97, Business Manager; 
Associate Editors : James Gibbons, '97 ; Michael P. Kirby, '97 ; 

John J. McEvoy, '98; J. 
B. W. Gardiner, '98 ; 
Daniel J. Murphy, '98; 
Bernard J. Mahoney, '99 ; 
William M. McCormick, 
'99 ; Leo H. Joyce, 1900. 
It is a noteworthy fact 
in the history of Mount 
St. Mary's that all who 
have ever come within 
her influence, either as 
students or professors, 
have ever afterward been 
devoted " Mountaineers." 
The loyalty of the sons 
of the Mountain to their 
Alma Mater is a never- 
f ailing characteristic. 
This fact has almost 
passed into a proverb : it 
is equally as true of the 
veteran of many years, 
whose college days date back to the early years of Dr. McCaf- 
frey, as of the graduates of the latest scholastic term. Nor 
has graduation alone been a test ; some of her most loyal fol- 
lowers did not complete their terms, but nevertheless took 
their degrees in devotion to the old college. This feeling, 
which is universal and persistent, is the foundation of the 
Alumni Association of Mount St. Mary's. Much of the vigor 
that now characterizes the association is due to the efforts 
and devotion of A. V. D. Watterson, Esq., a distinguished 
lawyer of Pittsburg and brother of Bishop Watterson, and 
Thomas J. McTighe, of New York, the well-known elec- 





trician, pillars of the " Mountain " among the laymen. Each 
has been president of the association, and no commencement 
appears complete without these staunch friends of the college. 
The association holds an annual banquet on a grand scale, 
which serves as an occasion for the glorification of Alma Ma- 
ter and reunion of all generations of her sons. At these din- 
ners, which are held in the leading cities by turn and occasion- 
ally at the college, bishops and archbishops, priests, judges, 
doctors, lawyers, and literary men of distinction sit side by 
side, on terms of perfect equality, with the latest graduate or 
student who has finished his studies. That is the charm of 
the assemblages. The old days are revived and the glories of 
the " Mountain " sung once more. The present officers of the 
Alumni Association are : President, John Jerome Rooney ; Vice- 
Presidents, Thomas J. McTighe, A. V. D. Watterson, John 
W. McFadden, William T. Cashman, Haldeman O'Connor, Rev. 
James Callaghan, C. A. Grasselli, C. B. Ernst, Joseph Butler, 
John D. Lagarde, Rev. T. A. Doran, Rev. P. L. Duffy: Sec- 

228 " THE OLD MOUNTAIN" [Nov. 

retary, Rev. B. J. Bradley; Treasurer, Very Rev. William L. 
O'Hara (ex-officio). 

The Mountaineer is naturally proud of the list of distin 
guished men, in every walk of life, who have owed their alle- 
giance to his Alma Mater. And first in this connection may 
be given the names of the Presidents. These are: Right Rev. 
John Dubois, Very Rev. Michael Duborg Egan, Very Rev. 
John Gerry, Very Rev. John B. Purcell, Very Rev. James B. 
Jamison, Very Rev. Thomas L. Butler, Very Rev. John Mc- 
Caffrey, Very Rev. John McCloskey, Very Rev. John A. 
Watterson, Very Rev. William J. Hill, Very Rev. William 
Byrne, Very Rev. Edward P. Allen, Very Rev. William L. 

That the title " The Nursery of Bishops " is not undeserved 
let this list of " Mountain " prelates prove : 

His Eminence John Cardinal McCloskey, Archbishop of 
New York ; Most Rev. John Hughes, Archbishop of New York ; 
Most Rev. Michael A. Corrigan, Archbishop of New York ; 
Most Rev. John B. Purcell, Archbishop of Cincinnati ; Most 
Rev. John Henry Elder, Archbishop of Cincinnati ; Right Rev. 
Simon Gabriel Brut6, Bishop of Vincennes, Ind.; Right Rev. 
Francis Silas Chatard, Bishop of Vincennes ; Right Rev. John 
Dubois, Bishop of New York ; Right Rev. John Conroy, Bishop 
of Albany ; Right Rev. George A. Carrell, Bishop of Covington, 
Ky.; Right Rev. Edward Fitzgerald, Bishop of Little Rock; 
Right Rev. Francis X. Gartland, Bishop of Savannah ; Right 
Rev. T. A. Becker, Bishop of Savannah; Right Rev. Richard Gil- 
mour, Bishop of Cleveland ; Right Rev. John Loughlin, Bishop 
of Brooklyn ; Right Rev. F. P. McFarland, Bishop of Hart- 
ford, Conn.; Right Rev. William G. McCloskey, Bishop of 
Louisville, Ky.; Right Rev. William Quarter, Bishop of Chi- 
cago ; Right Rev. John Quinlan, Bishop of Mobile, Ala.; Right 
Rev. John L. Spalding, Bishop of Peoria, 111.; Right Rev. 
Richard V. Whelan, Wheeling, W. Va.; Right Rev. John A, 
Watterson, Bishop of Columbus, O.; Right Rev. J. M, Young, 
Bishop of Erie, Pa.; Right Rev. Henry P. Northrop, Bishop 
of Charleston, S. C.; Right Rev. Thomas McGovern, Bishop of 
Harrisburg, Pa.; Right Rev. Edward P. Allen, Bishop of Mo- 
bile, Ala.; Monsignor Robert Seton, Jersey City ; Monsignor 
Daniel Quigley, Charleston, S. C.; Monsignor Thomas D. Gam- 
bon, Louisville, Ky. Fifteen other " Mountaineers " have been 
vicars-general. The Rev. E'dward Sourin, S.J., a priest of the 
greatest learning, was a " Mountaineer," as was also the Rev. 




Charles C. Pise, D.D., the only Catholic chaplain of Congress. 
It might also be said that the colleges of St. John's, Fordham, 
N. Y.; St. Mary's College, Ky., and Seton Hall, N. J., owe 
their founding to " Mountaineers." 

The Mountain likewise is proud of a distinguished list of 
lay alumni, among whom are : Jerome Bonaparte, Baltimore ; 
George Miles, poet and author ; Charles J. Bonaparte ; the late 
Honorable Carroll D. Spence, Minister to Turkey ; John La- 
farge, the great artist and critic; General James M. Cole, of 
Md.; Governor John Lee Carroll, Md.; Judge William McSher- 
ry, the historian of Maryland ; Justice White, of the Supreme 
Court ; Judge N. Charles Burke, of Towson, Md.; Dr. Joseph 
Meredith Tonor and Mr. Lawrence Gardner, of Washington ; 
Dr. Gunning S. Bedford, the great gynecologist of New York ; 
Dr. Charles Carroll Lee, of New York. Many other names 
distinguished in the professions and in business could be men- 
tioned, but these will show what manner of men some of the 
Mountain's sons have been and are. 

230 " THE OLD MOUNTAIN." [Nov., 

The story of " The Mountain " would lack an essential touch 
if allusion were not made to the scene of natural beauty in 
which the old college is set. Overlooking the entire valley and 
visible for many miles, the Church of Mount St. Mary's rests 
upon the mountain-side. Its white walls and cross shine in the 
sun and serve as a beacon for returning " Mountaineers." The 
college buildings are on the slope a little farther down, the struc- 
tures being of gray granite, hewn from the surrounding hills. 
Nothing can surpass the charm of the place, with its woods, 
streams, orchards of apple and peach trees, the near-by garden 
and vineyard, and in early spring and autumn these charms 
are heightened a hundred-fold. 

Upon the mountain-side above the college is the beautiful 
Grotto a shrine to the Virgin Mother under whose name and 
protection Mount St. Mary's has lived and worked. The top- 
most point of the mountain upon which the college stands or 
rather of a twin mountain making two in one has been named, 
from time immemorial, " Indian Lookout." From this rock a 
sweeping view of the valley may be obtained. The prospect 
is largely toward Pennsylvania, and the field of Gettysburg. 
Little Round Top and the historic road leading from Emmits- 
burg (" The Emmitsburg road " of the war reports) are plainly 
visible. It is a tradition that from this point some of the 
" Mountaineers " of the war period watched the movement of 
the troops and heard the booming of the guns during the 
great battle. Large bodies of troops passed the college before 
and after the fight. 

Have you ever heard of the Mountain water? Old Dr. Mc- 
Caffrey held, as one of the principles of his life, the duty of 
praising the truly crystal springs that bubble up on the " rear 
terrace " of the college grounds. And truly this water is su- 
perb. Many good bishops and learned judges have declared 
that they have come miles out of their way to taste the " Moun- 
tain " water and no doubt, too, the " Mountain " hospitality, 
which flows as perennially as the springs. 

Founded in a wilderness, with no apparent aid from fortune, 
by men poor in purse but rich in every noble quality and burn- 
ing with the love of God and man, Mount St. Mary's College 
has grown and survived as by a special providence. To-day 
she stands on an unassailable foundation, strong in a new 
youth for the work before her, doubly strong and hopeful in 
the love of her sons and the admiration and support of all 
friends of higher Catholic education. 



JILL Catholic New England hold the place which 
Puritan New England has maintained in the 
intellectual, social, and political life of our 
country?" This question was asked lately in 
an article on New England. 
Those of us who are so fortunate as to possess the inspiring 
hopes, the expectations of the late Very Rev. Isaac T. Hecker, 
are of the opinion that not New England only, but America 
will be dominated largely by Catholic sentiment, and that from 
New England will go forth a stream of Catholicity that shall 
influence religious opinion in the rest of the country, as politi- 
cal opinion from the same source has made its mark wherever 
the New-Englander has carried it. We are of the opinion that 
the winning of this land to Christ will be the greatest conquest 
which the church has ever made in the world, and we look- 
with confidence for the day when it shall be accomplished. It 
is our hope now, but as we watch the trend of affairs that 
hope is being rapidly merged into conviction ; and priests are 
now ordained who before they shall be called to their reward 
will stand at the doors of the church welcoming the multi- 
tude of seekers after truth and the searchers after God who 
will come to the portals of the edifice of faith. 

Almighty God has not placed the church of his building in 
this last of the great empires of the world for naught. It is 
little short of blasphemy to suppose that his church is to shine 
here for a century or two, and then become lost in the dark- 
ness of irreligion ; or to sound her voice for twenty decades, 
and then to allow the echoes to die away amid the clangor of 
a thousand voices that rave of anarchy, agnosticism, free- 
thought, and rationalism. No; "a city that is set upon a hill 
cannot be hid." " Shake thyself from the dust, arise, sit up, O 
Jerusalem : loose thy bands from off thy neck, O captive 
daughter of Sion. O poor little one, tossed with tempest, with- 
out all comfort, behold I will lay thy stones in order, and will 
lay thy foundations with sapphires." If ever there were in the 
world an opportunity to see the fulfilment of these wondrous 
prophecies of Isaias, it is in this our well-beloved country, and 
in the twentieth century upon which we are entering. 


Taking New England as the type of this land of ours, how 
shall we go to work to win it to the truth? The question is 
answered partly by the momentous events which have come to 
pass during the past four years. Single-handed and alone, but 
full of the Spirit of the Lord, a priest went before the non- 
Catholic people and preached the Word of Life. People thought 
lightly of the probability of success when they measured the 
herculean task he had before him. A year went by, and the 
authorities of the church gave their approval to his work. 
Another year, and the Supreme Pontiff commended the mis- 
sions to non-Catholics to all the bishops of the country. And 
now in sixteen dioceses the work has been started, and with- 
out presumption we can say, surely the finger of God is here. 

Shortly the work will be begun in an organized way among 
the homes in the mountains of New England. How it makes 
my heart leap within me to think that there, among the peo- 
ple of. my forefathers, the Gospel is to be preached by mis- 
sionaries specially deputed for the work ! There is no work 
dearer to the heart of a convert than the conversion- of his 
own people. That ought to be for him the object of his 
.prayers, and all his thoughts should be centred on the problem 
of the work and how to do it best. 

New England is the home of learning and education, and of 
high development in religious thought. The missionary, there- 
fore, to such a class should be a man of broad learning, and 
should know not only his own religion well, but he should have 
also the best information that he can obtain concerning the 
tenets of the sects. He should have studied them not from the 
destructive stand-point, but rather with a purpose of discover- 
ing the points of similarity with his own, of finding out what 
amount of truth is held in common, and then make himself 
the master of the synthesis. To start from the same stand- 
point will conduce to the attainment of the truth more quickly 
than to follow the old method of attacking and trying to 
build anew on the ruins. The New England priests know the 
New England character well, and know better than I can tell 
how to deal with it, from long experience. They know from 
the lips of these people what they profess to believe ; and 
from daily contact they know the best methods of leading 
them into the church. These priests have been the pioneers 
who have laid the foundation-stone of the work about to be 
carried to completion. Not only have they been skilful in 
argument, but they have been kindly in their manner of ap- 
proach and treatment of the Yankee with whom they have 


come in contact. This last quality of soul is a necessary 
requisite for every non-Catholic missionary, whether he be sent 
to America or to China. It is the one great virtue in which, 
we are told by 'the Apostle of the Nations, all other virtues 
are bound up. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and 
of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding 
brass or a tinkling cymbal." It is the charity of our Divine 
Redeemer, who did not hesitate to go to the despised Samari- 
tans and preach to them. It will be well for us to cultivate 
this virtue in their regard daily. I do not know how better to 
do this than to say the prayer for "the Conversion of Unbe- 
lievers " every day. This practice will keep the non-Catholic 
missions before our mind at all times. Many conversions are 
taking place in Old England, and I know that it is a custom 
for many priests and lay-people to say a Hail Mary whenever 
they pass or see one of the pre-Reformation churches. This 
they do for the intention of the conversion of England, and in 
honor of the desecrated altar that once stood in the church. So 
might we, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, lift up our hearts 
to God for every non-Catholic soul with whom we come in contact. 

Our missionary in New England will be quick to recognize 
the natural goodness that abides among these people. He will 
see with joy that there is a large class of people among whom 
natural virtues have always been cultivated, and he will enter 
on the delightful task of showing them how to supernaturalize 
these goodly natural traits. And who is there who better 
knows that these virtues are alive and flourishing than the 
New England priest, who has had the best opportunities of 
observing the true type of New England families ? 

But the mere recognition of what is good among them will 
not be enough ; zeal to carry this goodness to perfection is 
necessary as well. Not the zeal which is the impetuosity of 
youth, full of impulses which are often evanescent ; but that 
zeal which is born of conviction and sound judgment, and 
which, perchance, has been tempered by the fire of adverse 
criticism. A zeal which is not aroused by the preaching of a 
sermon or the eloquence of an orator, but a zeal which arises 
from the conviction borne in on the soul by the Spirit of God, 
that this is the work of the age and of the church in this country. 

The great motive which will lend wings to the zeal of the 
non-Catholic missionary in New England is the divine love 
which dwells in him. As Christ loved sinners, so must we. 
Christ's love for sinners enabled him to die for them ; what 
will ours do ? God has not called us into this world to shed 


our blood for the faith ; but we are called to do something 
for those who are struggling for the light and are being driven 
hither and thither by every wind of doctrine. 

Let us suppose that we were living without any hope of a 
future life except a shadowy, vague suspicion of its probabili- 
ty ; the little belief that we inherited from our parents almost 
shattered by sophisms of the infidel preachers, on the one hand, 
and an evil life on the other. How the world and all its plea- 
sures would appeal to the senses, and how keen would be the 
enjoyment that we would take in them ! But after a time, 
pleasure palling, discontent would become the ruling trait of 
the soul. With no belief in anything definite after death, what 
is there to live for ? And yet the human heart longs to know 
of what is beyond the veil. Can we bear to think of going 
forth from this world " into the blank nothingness from which 
we came " ? Would not such a belief cloud all our declining 
days with melancholy and unrest? 

And yet there are many in this part of the world who are 
just such as I have described. Our love for them in their mis- 
ery, a love which is born of the Love of Christ on the Cross, 
should stir the zeal that is in us to do great things for God 
and his church in this grand old land of the Puritans. The 
thought that there are so many who are in danger of falling 
into the abyss of destruction should rouse us to the rescue. 
This thought has raised a Salvation Army, and half a dozen 
similar organizations, to try to rescue men who are sunk in 
sin. But we are the captains and soldiers of the army of 
Christ, the Catholic Church ; and we have that which these 
others can rarely have, the certainty of forgiveness. With what 
zeal, then, shall not our hearts be fired when we contem- 
plate the church that is behind us in our holy campaign. Our 
zeal will be animated also by the sight of the hosts of people 
who will come to hear us. To stand as St. Paul did before 
the Athenians Agrippa, Festus, and at last before the Roman 
people to see the modern pagans listening with rapt atten- 
tion, to have them coming to talk in private, to distribute to 
them literature and witness the eagerness with which they 
read it ; these things will give us the will born of desire to do 
our duty towards these New England Puritans. 

We shall win New England by our activity as well as by our 
knowledge and our zeal. New England has been in the van of 
the active life of the Republic for over a century, and she has not 
fallen behind in any respect as yet. From her rugged hills have 
gone forth the farmers, the artisans, and the statesmen who rule 


the Union to-day. She has been the cradle of the people and 
the training-school of the leaders of this great nation who have 
been foremost in the sacred cause of freedom. Shall it be said 
of her, then, that she has lost or cast away the greatest prize that 
has ever been held out to her, namely, the gift of the true faith? 

And if the Puritan people are aroused to know what truth 
is, no less are the priests of New England eager to tell them, 
and to tell them through the medium of the non-Catholic mis- 
sion. A mission to non-Catholics is the first sign of activity, 
but there are other methods and means by which we can com- 
pel our separated non-Catholic brethren to enter the wide-open 
doors of the old church in which their forefathers once wor- 
shipped. We must meet these people in their daily life, be with 
them at every opportunity, converse with them on the street, 
in the shop, in the stores, and wherever we chance to meet 
them. The traditional estimate of the character of the Catho- 
lic priesthood is rapidly changing among the New-Englanders. 
They have been taught from childhood to look upon him as a 
dangerous character in the community. He was supposed to 
be conspiring to sell this country to the Pope. These notions, 
impressed as they were upon the Yankee from the days of in- 
fancy, are with difficulty removed and blotted out. They have 
had their minds poisoned in the schools with text-books which 
maliciously malign the church and her fair name throughout 
the centuries that have passed. Intimate acquaintance with 
a priest in daily matters will soon wear off a great deal of this 
prejudice. It is a matter of duty to be on good terms with 
these people, when we know that it will result in the teaching 
of the truth? We have abundant opportunity to do this 
sort of work, and we shall find that it pays only too well if we 
hasten to engage in it. 

Where is the place in my town that the gossips of the 
village meet and discuss the weather, politics, and religion ? 
It is in the post-office, in the grocery store, at the blacksmith- 
shop or no matter where the place, it is my place. That is 
the place for me to be, and there I can find an excellent non- 
Catholic audience ready to listen to what I have to say. St. 
Paul found his audiences in the market-place, and he quietly 
addressed them in the place where they were. There is another 
place where a priest should not fail to put himself in evi- 
dence. That is the " town meeting." We have an interest 
in the town in which we live, its welfare, its beauty and im- 
provement. The good order of the community is near to our 
heart, and we are as anxious as any one to see that just laws 


prevail and that we are not over-burdened with taxes. Why 
should we not be at every public rejoicing. Invite the Grand 
Army to our churches ; there is no reason why denominational 
ministers should have a monopoly of the religious celebration 
of Decoration Day. It will delight and surprise us to see what 
a greeting we shall receive from the old soldiers when they 
come to us to listen to a sermon. We go to the town library 
and find there not one Catholic book, but plenty which calum- 
niate and deride us. Here is our work to see that the church 
is represented, not by her enemies' works but by those of fair 
and true historians. In all the communication with these peo- 
ple, in the ways that I have just suggested, we shall find ample 
occasion for spreading the knowledge of the doctrines and prac- 
tices of the church. 

Let us not be afraid that the strength of our religion will 
be weakened by contact with these poor people. We go 
willingly to attend the most disgusting cases of contagious 
physical disease; there are many among us who have the spirit 
of a Francis Xavier, thinking nothing of risking life to aid our 
fellow-men in their spiritual adversity. But are there not other 
spiritual works of mercy besides the administration of the 
Sacraments, and is not " the instruction of the ignorant" one 
of them ? 

Perhaps the work that we have had less in mind than any 
other is the work of the Apostolate of the Press. The press is 
such a mighty means for good that we are not able to esti- 
mate its value and power. It reaches an audience that we can- 
not reach. Not one, but many a man has found in a news- 
paper the words that first brought to his attention the things 
of the world to come. A few years ago some one left in an 
elevated train in New York a copy of De Harbes Catechism. 
It was picked up by a gentleman who knew nothing about the 
doctrines of the church. He is now a Catholic. If we would 
Sunday by Sunday get five hundred words into the daily or 
weekly paper in the town or city where we live, we would soon 
become the friends of the editor and reporter. And with them 
on our side we could publish when and what we would. A 
whole system of Christian doctrine can with ease be placed be- 
fore the non-Catholic people if we go about it in the right way. 
And in the world to come what a joy it will be to meet those 
who can trace their conversion to the faith to some words of 
ours which came to them through such sources as these. 

I am of the opinion that it is no longer necessary to wait 
for Catholics to settle in a place before a priest can build up 


a parish there. I do not think that I am enthusiastic when I 
say that he can build himself a good parish out of the material 
right at hand, namely, from the Yankees themselves. If we 
advertise our services and sermons, and let them know what is 
going on, and when the hours of services are, many a soul will 
be attracted out of curiosity, and many be led to investigate 
what they had long thought not worth the trouble of inquiring 
into. Many a soul has been won to the church who was first 
attracted by seeing an advertisement of Catholic services in 
the columns of a daily paper. 

Lastly, and this is the most important consideration of all, 
without which our work will be a feeble one and will have but 
little fruit, there is the means of prayer. A priest who engages 
in this work must be a man of prayer. In the silent hours of 
the early morning he will offer himself and all that he has to 
God for the work of the day. 

It has been said, and said with truth, that the cleverest 
enemies of the church are not the ones who vilify her, but they 
are the ones who ignore her. A movement of vilification 
pushes before it and draws after it the rich fruitage of conver- 
sions. Justin-Fultonism may for the time being stir up a good 
deal of bad blood and set one race over against the other, but 
by how much fury the storm rages by such a measure will be 
the throng of converts when the calm has come again. But 
the astute policy is to say nothing, to keep all mention of the 
church out of the paper, to make no public recognition of her 
contribution to. good citizenship. Unfortunately, the practice 
of some very good but very ancient Catholics is unconsciously 
to fall in with this policy. The time was when a priest built 
the church in a back street, when he closed the door on the 
innocent reporter who came for news, when the high-water 
mark of priestly virtue was to keep one's name out of the 
papers ; but this policy is fast being reversed. The Catholic 
Church in New England cannot be ignored. The divorce 
abomination has attained such mighty proportions, social and 
domestic vices are so rampant, socialistic and anarchistic ideas 
so wide-spread, that like the rock-ribbed coast that places a 
bound to the on-rushing ocean, the church builds a barrier 
to vice and socialism. She must be reckoned with, and the 
more we contribute to the public recognition of her power, the 
more we foil the astute enemy, and the more we hasten the 
day of her triumph. 

New England Catholic will be New England saved. 




you ever hear the blackbird in the 


Or the skylark rising warbling in the morn, 
With the white mists o'er the meadows, 
Or the cattle in the shadows 
Of the willows by the borders of the stream ? 
Do you ever see Old Ireland in a dream? 
A many a time, a many a time. 

Can you see the hillsides 
touched with sunset gold, 
And eve slow darkling down 

o'er field and fold, 
With the aspen-trees a- 


And the waters of the river 
Running lonesome -sounding 

down the dusky glen? 
Do you think of Irish twi- 
lights now and then ? 
A many a time, a many 
a time. 

Have you seen green Ireland lifting from the sea 
Her pebbled strands that join the grassy lea ? 

Seen her rocky headlands rise, 

With their shoulders in the skies, 

And the mad waves breaking foam-spent at their feet ? 
Do her brimming tides on Mem'ry's shoreland beat? 
A many a time, a many a time. 

Do you ever, think of night-time round the fire, 
The rosy little children, their mother and their sire : 

The cross-roads and the fiddle, 

With the dancers in the middle, 
While the lovers woo by moonlight in the lane ? 
For Irish love has e'er your heart been fain? 
A many a time, a many a time. 


Have you ever seen a weenshee leprachaun, 
Or the fairies dance by starlight on the lawn ? 

Have you seen your fetch go by ? 

Have you heard the banshee cry 
In the darkness " ululu ! " and "ulagone!"? 
Have you ever back on fairy pinions flown ? 
A many a time, a many a time. 

Did you ever lift a hurl in lusty joy? 

Did you ever toss the handball, man or boy ? 

Light bonfires at John's eve, 

Or the holly branches weave, 

When Christmas brought the robins and the frost ? 
Has Irish laughter cheered hearts trouble-crossed ? 
A many a time, a many a time. 

Did your mother by your cradle ever croon 
For lullaby some sweet old Irish tune ? 

Did an Irish love-song's art 

Ever steal into your heart, 
Or Irish war-chant make your pulses thrill? 
Do haunting harps yet sound from Tara's hill ? 
A many a time, a many a time. 

Do you ever hear the war-cry of the Gael 
As O'Donnell led his kernes against the Pale ; 

The trumpet of Red Hugh, 

Or the shout of " Crom Aboo ! " 
As they rushed to die for Ireland long ago ? 
Do their sword-blades from the ages flash and glow? 
A many a time, a many a time. 

'Tis not written that the Irish race forget, 

Though the tossing seas between them roll and fret ; 

Yea, the children of the Gael 

Turn to far-off Innisfail 

And remember her, and hope for her, and pray 
That her long, long night may blossom into day, 
A many a time, a many a time. 




'HERE are critical periods in the development of 
a novel when, for the sake of continuity as well 
as coherency, it becomes necessary for the 
writer to introduce either a well-known disease 
or offer a number of symptoms which are to be 
interpreted as indicative of some passing indisposition. It is a 
serious matter of taste, as well as expediency, for the author to 
select a disease which will not offend by its grossness, nor 
repel by its unattractiveness. In this respect, as in many 
others, fiction has markedly changed in the past generation. 
There was a time, and that not so far distant, when consump- 
tion and typhus fever, were regarded as standard diseases, to 
be called upon without offence whenever the necessities of 
the plot demanded their introduction. But owing to the great 
advances made in sanitation, and also to the fact that typhus 
fever in particular is most intimately associated with uncleanli- 
ness and filth, it has ceased to be available. Moreover, typhus 
is seen very infrequently in our day ; as a matter of fact, 
many physicians have been in active practice for a score of 
years without meeting the disease. So far as consumption is 
concerned, it, too, has lost the conspicuous position it once 
held in fiction. The public is too well acquainted with the 
details of its development to find entertainment in its descrip- 
tion. Though it would appear from one or two examples 
which we give of its introduction into recent fiction, that it has 
not altogether died out. But it is too commonplace and too 
prosaic an ailment to be rehabilitated so far as to hold the promi- 
nent position it once occupied. Fiction keeps pace with the 
discoveries made in art and science, and in order to instruct as 
well as amuse, the novelist must not permit himself to display 
a lack of knowledge in discussing scientific questions with 
which the reading public have at least a passing acquaintance. 
New fields of discovery are constantly coming to the fore. 
The theories of yesterday are becoming the facts of to-day, 
and this being more particularly true of medicine, the accurate 
writer should be en rapport with scientific advance. It is on 


this account that, in many modern novels the abstruse questions 
which deal with the functions of the brain, and of injury to the 
latter organ, are dealt with in a manner most confidently se- 
cure. The same assertion may be applied to diseases of the 
spine. The aggrieved hero may rescue ; the obstinate heroine 
from some grave danger and sustain a temporary paralysis 
from having his spine injured in performing the heroic deed. 
We know that the effects of the injury will soon pass away, 
and in the meantime the repentant maiden will have every 
opportunity of demonstrating her gratitude and affection for 
the unfortunate sufferer. On the other hand, it would never 
do to introduce a condition of paralysis caused by an enlarged 
growth pressing upon the spinal nerves, for it would remind us 
of the harrowing tales of the dime museums. 

Diseases are frequently made use of "to point a moral and 
adorn a tale, "though the style of adornment is not of such a 
character as to render it attractive to the select reader. Thus, 
in an unmentionable modern novel, a- description is given of a 
disease of whose existence it would be far better for the youth- 
ful mind to remain in ignorance. It stands as an example of 
the degeneracy of human nature, but what purpose can be 
subserved by giving the description is known alone to the 
author. We have a strong suspicion that such descriptions are 
introduced, not so much to fulfil the demands of the plot as 
to create discussion and thus advertise the book, which with- 
out such factitious aid would undoubtedly prove "stale and 

The prevalence of cholera once furnished a fruitful means 
to the novelist of inculcating lessons of sanitation. Thus, 
Charles Kingsley, in his Two Years Ago, gives an account of a 
cholera epidemic which is not surpassed in accuracy of descrip- 
tion by any medical work. That disease, too, has been rele- 
gated to the obscurity which typhus, has so long occupied, for, 
though now and then in this country it may be met with, it is 
conspicuous on account of its rarity. 

The consideration of more prevalent diseases now demands 
the serious attention of the novelist, though the same types of 
morbid phenomena existed in the past under different names. 

In Yolande, for example, William Black has given a fairly 
good description of pneumonia. Yolande's mother, with her 
constitution undermined from long indulgence in narcotics, 
stands upon the balcony watching the snow-flakes, thoughtless 
of the cold, stinging air which is sapping her vitality. The 
VOL. LXVI. 16 


following day she is very ill and prostrated. The doctor is 
summoned, and gravely shakes his head. Why do all doctors 
in novels " gravely shake " their heads ? The fever rises 
higher, the patient grows gradually weaker. But there is no 
word of a cough or the classic " stitch in the side," or of the 
delirium generally accompanying the disease. "As the days 
passed the fever seemed to abate somewhat, but an alarming 
prostration supervened." That is not like a typical case, but 
at times pneumonia does terminate by what is technically 
called lysis, a gradual defervescence of the temperature in 
which the patient's powers of recuperation appear to be at the 
lowest ebb, the process of reconstruction being generally long 
and tedious, and phthisis very frequently supervening. The 
novelist does not mention the length of the sickness, but it 
certainly cannot be typhoid. The exposure to the chilly atmos- 
phere, the sudden onset of the fever, the prescription of 
aconite, the delayed convalescence, with exacerbations of tem- 
perature, point rather to some inflammatory affection of the 
lungs. Moreover, pneumonia is a much more aristocratic 
disease than typhoid, and savors less of foul-smelling trenches, 
brackish water, and infected wells. But when the doctor called 
the following day " he would say nothing definite." Wise man! 
In pneumonia it is better to deal in glittering generalities. 


But a greater novelist than Black, and one evidently more 
favorably inclined toward the medical profession, has given us 
symptoms of a disease pointing unmistakably to a diagnosis of 
typhoid fever. Thackeray, in describing the illness of Arthur 
Pendennis in his rooms in the Temple, says he was sick for a 
week, not well enough to be around, nor ill enough to be 
in bed, but manifesting an absolute incapacity for work. " One 
night he went to bed ill, and the next day awoke worse ; 
his exertions to complete his work rendered his fever greater"; 
then for two days there is a gradual increase, Captain Costi- 
gan finding the patient " in a very fevered state," with rapid 
beating of the pulse, hot and haggard-looking face, and eyes 
bloodshot. After a few days more, the fever mounts higher, the 
patient becomes delirious, and is bled. Antiphlogistic remedies 
are applied, and after a few weeks the fever has disappeared, 
or " only returned at intervals of feeble remittence." The 
novelist describes the return of consciousness, the attenuated 
condition of the hands, the sunken eyes, the hollow voice, and 


the generally enfeebled condition of the patient. At last, how- 
ever, Arthur " sank into a fine sleep, which lasted for about 
sixteen hours, at the end of which time he awoke, calling out 
that he was hungry." Any of bur readers who have ever had 
the misfortune to contract typhoid can appreciate the patient's 
feelings when he awoke from his refreshing slumber. Then 
comes the gradual convalescence of about two weeks in-doors, 
when Arthur is taken out of town, and later goes abroad. 
Here is a description embodying the most salient symptoms of 
typhoid, given with a master-hand, no detail being lost which 
adds exactness to the diagnosis, and which at the same time 
displays the marvellous artistic power possessed by the incom- 
parable novelist. 

We may question the practicability of Dr. Goodenough's 
treatment with blisters and bleeding, for in this enlightened 
and scientific age we should put him into a bath, and, if we 
knew no better, administer antipyretics; but Arthur got well, 
and after all that is the main thing, though even in these practical 
days some people would rather die scientifically, under the care 
of their chosen physicians, than b$ cured unscientifically by 


In Dickens we find many of the young people passing to 
the " eternal bourne " unaccompanied by scientific nomencla- 
ture. It is difficult, for example, to assign a definite name 
for the disease of which the schoolmaster's little pupil, in the 
Old Curiosity Shop died. He becomes delirious, probably from 
the effects of too intense application in a naturally delicate 
child, coupled with a predisposition toward the development of 
phthisis ; but instead of sinking into a comatose condition, as 
do the majority of children who are afflicted with tubercular 
meningitis, he recovers sufficiently to impart useful instructions 
and utter touching death-bed platitudes. 

Many of Dickens's youthful characters, around whose heads 
the halo of a serene future appears to circle even in this life, 
die of consumption at least that is the nearest approach to a 
diagnosis offered by the vague symptoms of their diseases. 
Certainly in Little Nell's case no other conclusion can be drawn, 
and the same assurance may be give for Little Dombey's de- 
parture. Dickens was a master of character delineation, and 
possessed a marvellous knowledge of the varied phases of hu- 
man nature, but his acquaintance with the symptomatology of 


disease must have been limited, for it would be impossible 
to accurately classify the causes of the many deaths which oc- 
cur in his writings. As a contrast to the clear-cut description 
of typhoid fever in Arthur Pendennis, let us for a moment 
turn to the illness of Dick Swiveller in the Old Curiosity Shop, 
which bears many of the characteristic symptoms of the same 
disease. Dick had undergone considerable strain within a 
fortnight, and it working upon a system affected in no slight 
degree by the spirituous excitement of some years, proved a 
little too much for him.*" This might explain an acute ex- 
acerbation of chronic inebriety, but what follows will not 
bear out this explanation. "That very night Mr. Richard 
was seized with an alarming illness, and in twenty-four hours 
was stricken with a raging fever," followed by a period 
of unrest, then "fierce thirst," "eternal weariness," "wandei- 
ings of his mind," " wasting and consuming inch by inch," and 
finally came " a deep sleep, and he awoke with a sensation of 
most blissful rest." A description of that character would suf- 
fice for pneumonia, particularly when accompanied by the "spir- 
ituous excitement" mentioned above; but we learn from the 
Marchioness that he has been ill "three weeks to-morrow," that 
the fever has abated, his mind is clear, and he is fed with that 
concentration of the hygienic wisdom of the ages tea and 
toast. After that Mr. Richard's appetite becomes "perfectly 
ravenous," and he is permitted to indulge in " two oranges 
and a little jelly." His convalescence is very slow, but we hear 
of no relapse such as should occur if oranges formed a part of 
his daily diet, and the disease proved to be typhoid. 

" Brain fever," an indefinite term indiscriminately applied to~ 
a large and varied number of symptoms supposed to form an 
integral portion of diseases within the cranial cavity, is a 
favorite combination with many writers of fiction. During the 
period of unconsciousness and delirium declarations of unknown 
passions, either of hate, of fear, or of love, have been made, 
and the incoherent expressions of the patient have in many 
cases cleared the stage, to use a theatrical phrase, for further 
action. So many complications may arise during this period 
when the mind alone is active, favorable to the hero and heroine, 
that it is a favorite resort for novelists when the mass of de- 
tail becomes too weighty for explanation. An example of this 
disease is found in the illness of Lewsome in Martin Chuz- 
zlewit. After the death of Anthony Chuzzlewit, caused, as 
Lewsome supposes, by drugs furnished by himself to Jonas, 


he falls ill, and in the height of his delirium he furnishes to 
his attendant, Sairy Gamp, several clues which that talkative 
and ubiquitous individual makes good use of in a subsequent 
chapter. The description of the sickness is rather vague, but 
apparently the author intended to delineate some disease such 
as meningitis. He evidently possessed an excellent constitu- 
tion to have coped successfully with the many agencies com- 
bined to retard his recovery. "Talk of constitooshun ! " Mrs. 
Gamp observed. " A person's constitooshun need be made of 
Bricks to stand it." " He was so wasted that it seemed as if 
his bones would rattle when they moved him. His cheeks were 
sunken, and his eyes unnaturally large. He lay back in the 
easy chair like one more dead than living, and rolled his lan- 
guid eyes towards the door, when Mrs. Gamp appeared, as 
painfully as if their weight alone were burdensome to move." 
This description of convalescence would accurately fit a large 
number of diseases, but if we take the sum total of the symp- 
toms in various chapters, we are led to the diagnosis of some 
acute affection of the brain, superinduced by the horror of his 
participation in the supposed murder of old Chuzzlewit. 

Dickens was evidently not particularly fond of the medical 
profession, and his caricatures of its members show a bitter- 
ness not apparent when dealing with other avocations. Excep- 
tions may be noted in favor of Allan Woodcourt, the some- 
what irascible Mr. Lasberne in Oliver Tivist, and the mild 
and sympathetic Mr. Chillip, who had the honor of superin- 
tending the advent of David Copperfield, and who so meekly 
endured Betsey Trotwood's wrath. His descriptions of va- 
rious diseases would have improved had there been some men- 
tor near by to point out his inaccuracies. 


The domain of mental affections has been a favorite field 
for the novelist's observations. Thus, George Eliot has given 
us a wonderful description of catalepsy in the great character 
of Silas Marner, true in detail, accurate in finish, the whole 
drawn by a master-hand. No alienist could have described the 
comparatively rare affection with better effect. 

In Middlemarch she has produced, with equal attention to 
detail, a striking picture of delirium tremens in the illness and 
death of Raffles, and thought the case to be of sufficient 
interest to enter into some details as to its proper treatment 
in the hands of Dr. Lydgate. And once more, in The Lifted 


Veil, the autobiographical sketch of an Englishman who, suf- 
fering from angina pectoris, commonly known as " neuralgia of 
the heart," in which the combined agonies of a hundred deaths 
are concentrated in a single seizure, and possessing the power 
of "second sight," whatever that vague term means, is a revela- 
tion of the strength possessed by George Eliot in dealing with 
the marvellous. Incidentally, peritonitis and the efficacy of 
transfusion are dealt with. Of peritonitis she writes : " In this 
disease the mind often remains singularly clear to the last," an 
assertion which is supported by medical authority. 

There is something charmingly attractive to the medical 
mind in the writings of George Eliot, aside from the masterful 
power she possessed in understanding and awakening the sen- 
sibilities that lie at the very root of our nature. Indeed, it is 
this power of entering into the heart the sanctum sanctorum 
of her characters that makes her so intensely interesting. 
Her delineations of physicians are exquisite, and at the same 
time accurate, as to the period- she describes. In Janet's Repen- 
tance she has given us as fine a piece of characterization in the 
persons of Mr. Pratt and Mri Pilgrim physicians of the old 
English school as can be found in the whole range of litera- 
ture. "Pratt was middle-sized, insinuating, and silvery-voiced; 
Pilgrim was tall, heavy, rough-mannered, and spluttering. ... 
Pratt elegantly referred all diseases to debility, and with a 
proper contempt for symptomatic treatment, went to the root 
of the matter with port wine and bark ; Pilgrim was persuaded 
that the evil principle in the human system was plethora, and 
he made war against it with cupping, blistering, and cathartics. 
. . . There was no very malignant rivalry between them ; 
on the contrary, they had that sort of friendly contempt for 
each other which is always conducive to a good understanding 
between professional men. . . . The doctor's estimate, even 
of a confiding patient, was apt to rise and fall with the entries 
in the day-book ; and I have known Mr. Pilgrim discover the 
most unexpected virtues in a patient seized with a promising 
illness. ... A good inflammation fired his enthusiasm, and a 
lingering dropsy dissolved him into charity." Again, in the same 
novel there is presented, in Dempster's illness, as well-written a 
description of delirium tremens, supervening upon a fracture of 
the leg, as can be found outside of a medical work. If the 
sickness had developed into pneumonia, as is frequently the 
case in those who are habitually addicted to liquor, after an in- 
jury of that character, the picture would have been complete. 



Novelists are rather chary of dealing with such a hackneyed 
and ubiquitous disease as consumption. The picturesque 
effects which may surround other diseases are here dissolved 
in the blank reality of its contagious character and prolonged 
suffering. There is certainly nothing attractive in viewing the 
thread of mortality unwinding itself in a series of hacking 
coughs and unconquered sweats. Yet one of our most dis- 
tinguished modern novelists, W. D. Howells, has given us in 
his latest work, The Landlord of Lion Head's Inn, the history 
of a family all of whose members save one are afflicted with 
the "white blight." So vivid is the description that we can 
almost hear the successive coughs issuing from the 1 pulmonary 
tract of the afflicted, and on many pages the reader experi- 
ences an almost irrepressible irritation in his throat, producing 
a desire to join in the discordant sounds. To add to the 
general air of depression, we are told that the family were in 
the habit of sitting in the parlor instead of the kitchen, from 
having it open so much for funerals. This is certainly the 
height of realism as regards disease in fiction ! There are very 
few novelists who have the courage possessed by Mr. Howells 
in dealing so openly with such an unattractive phase of suffer- 
ing humanity, although Beatrice Haarden, in Ships that Pass in 
the Night, has presented us with several ' descriptions of the 
disease, not of so depressing a character. 

The indefiniteness of authors in offering a complication of 
symptoms without apparently describing a particular disease, is 
clearly shown by Hawthorne. The death of Dimmesdale, 
in The Scarlet Letter, is open to this objection. Poetically, we 
might venture to say that he died of a broken heart. The long 
years of restraint and repression, the constant feeling ever 
dominating his mind that he was acting a part, coupled with a 
temperament sensitive to an exalted degree, would be suffi- 
cient to develop in another acute melancholia, but to the last 
moment he retains his senses, and we are inclined to hold our 
diagnosis in reserve. In Cloverdale's illness, in Mosses from 
an Old Manse, Hawthorne has been more definite. The sharp 
cold, the intense fever, a " furnace in the head and heart," the 
delirium, the limited length of the attack, " a fortnight," and 
rapid convalescence, unmistakably point to pneumonia. "A 
doctor was sent for, who, being homoeopathic, gave me as much 
medicine in the course of a fortnight as would have lain on 


the point of a needle. The homoeopathic gentleman was wise 
beyond his generation, and, with Hippocrates, found that nature 
alone terminates diseases and works a cure with a few simple 
medicines, and often ^enough with no medicine at all." 

It would appear, from the numerous citations we have made 
from many authors, as if an acute inflammatory affection of the 
Iiing9, .. g., pneumonia, was far in the forefront of favorite dis- 
eases. ;The ease with: which it may be produced, the rapid on- 
-sefc of. the delirium permitting considerable latitude in dissipat- 
iiig the::: various; ma&und erst and in gs ; that may have arisen, the 
convalescence with its .opportunities for delightful tete~a-tetes, 
the -slight technical knowledge required, combine to make pneu- 
monia -an attractive i caiftping-ground. 

In Mariftri Crawford's latest novel, A Rose of Yesterday, a 
striking description is given of the effects of fast living, with 
all that the term impilies, and the superadded influence of opium 
when Henry Harmon had become blase' to other attractions. 
"Then had come strange lapses of memory, disconnected 
speech, even hysterical tears, following senseless anger, and 
then he had ceased to 'recognize any one, and had almost 
killed one of the men who took care of him, so that it was 
necessary to take him to an asylum, struggling. like a wild beast." 
After a period, the exact length of which is not- given, he is 
declared sane, and .writes a coherent letter to his wife, begging 
forgiveness for the past and promising amends for the future. 
A week or so after writing the letter he dies, but his death 
is a .mere incident in the history of the novel, and no details 
are given. The requirements of the story demand his death, 
but; '.no informatiomas to the manner of his departure is granted. 

The son of Henry Harmon is described as being intellectu- 
ally backward in his development, though physically all that 
a man should be. Evidently the lack of mental strength, the 
author would have us-, imply, is a result of the repeated blows 
which the father, in his " senseless anger," poured forth upon 
the head of the son* But it would be undesirable and tedious 
to the general reader to follow out the successive stages of 
reasoning upon the author's part that led him to this conclu- 
sion. The idea is rather a novel one to advance, and conspicu- 
ous for its originality, though we believe that the fact of a 
man's entire moral nature being changed by an operation on 
the brain has been utilized in current fiction. 




HE torch of to-day's civilization is the press. 
Little did the inventors of printing imagine 
what a great fire their little spark would kin- 
dle. Little did the protege of the Archbishop 
of Mainz, John Gutenberg, as he perceived the 
first impression made from movable metal blocks, realize the 
impress that he had put upon the world's future. Then a new 
power sprang into being, when public opinion moved on at 
the, resistless stroke of that engine whose peaceful revolutions 
turn the world onward in its career of progress. 
,-.. The Church of Truth, ever ancient and ever new, is a wise 
householder, bringing forth old things and new, keeping apace 
with every age, and employing the means best suited to the 
needs of all times. "Time was," says Montalembert, "when, 
in the hands of the monk, the hoe was the timely implement 
of early European civilization." "Time is now," declares Fa- 
ther Hecker, "when the instrument is no longer the hoe but 
the press." History, in a prank, has somewhat repeated itself, 
for the engine of our noontide civilization is still the hoe the 
latest, compound, rotary Hoe printing-press. This is the hoe 
which clears the ground of error; but, like the combined en- 
gines of modern husbandry, the press is also a cultivator, which 
not only prepares the ground, but also sows the seed for the 
great Harvester which will follow. The sower goes forth to 
sow ; and, in order to compete with the latest appliances and 
thus secure those best results, which alone are good enough, 
it is of course necessary to make the best use of the best 
means, materially as well as spiritually; and among the means 
the press is paramount. The church has recognized this, and 
printing has become an important factor in the work of the 
clergy. The old orders and the new congregations are pub- 
lishers, and now, instead of the slow transcribing of the patient 
monks, the white-winged messengers of truth are multiplied by 
the power press. Thus is the Dominican Rosary recited, the 
Jesuit Messenger sent abroad, and the Paulist publications 
scattered far and wide ; while numerous instances of typogra- 
phical enterprise appear in the religious journals, under the 

250 "SEEING THE EDITOR." [Nov., 

direction of the secular clergy and the laity. But a wider 
range of employment is possible in the more extended circula- 
tion of the secular press ; and it is of this medium, the sole 
text-book of the masses, that this article would treat as a phase 
of the Apostolate of the Press. 

Father Hecker was once impressed by observing a coach- 
man upon the sidewalk reading a Sunday paper while his em- 
ployer worshipped within the church. How many of the masses 
get their religion of vice from the daily sheet as it recounts 
its litany of crime ? How many others have not felt from an 
inspection of some of the lurid pages of what Jeffrey Roche 
keenly characterizes as " the new or rather nude journalism," 
that much of the secular press has been given over to Satan, 
and that the torch of truth reeks of brimstone ? Yet this murky 
light, which is the sole guide to many, may be employed to 
the extent of the good that is in it, may be purified also to 
the limit of our power if we realize that at all events, like a 
smoky lamp, the press will not improve from inattention. 

Archbishop Ireland, at the Catholic University a few years 
ago, advised the student priests to cultivate the press. He re- 
ferred particularly to the magazines and reviews, but the high light 
which shines in that rare atmosphere hardly reaches the multitude. 

Some years ago, at least, there stood forth in Boston an old 
landmark among ministers, the Rev. Cyrus Bartol, an amiable 
and venerable figure who remained at his post in the old West 
Church long after the congregation had drifted away fashion- 
wards. By some of the unregenerate ones of his flock, Dr. 
Bartol was playfully known as " St. Cyrus the Vague," but 
this was not on account of his once declaring : " I have still 
the largest congregation in the city, for my sermons appear in 
the morning papers." 

The evident application of this remark may incite someone 
to declaim against ministers in general, and ministerial news- 
paper notoriety in particular ; but it must be acknowledged 
that publicity is inseparable from the life of an active priest, 
and that, although relying as much as every one must upon 
the all-powerful operation of Grace, and while desiring for one's 
self that seclusion which brings tranquillity to the soul, yet 
the impelling needs of the people, and the command of our 
Lord to preach the Gospel to every creature, must urge him 
not to bury the coin in the napkin, nor to neglect the em- 
ployment of any good means to the end of bringing in the 
other sheep which are not of this fold. Neither is this end en- 

1897.] " SEEING . THE EDITOR:' 251 

tirely accomplished by co-operation with the religious press, 
the influence of which, though powerful, is necessarily restricted. 

In San Francisco there is the able Catholic journal aptly 
called The Monitor. In hydraulic mining the pressure of an 
immense reservoir of water is concentrated, by a pipe of di- 
minishing diameter, into a powerful nozzle bearing this name. 
The monitor, in the hands of the miner, directs the giant stream 
against the mass of earth ; the sand is carried down by the 
flood, while the fine particles of gold are caught in the riffles. 
So with the Monitor newspaper, in its recent campaign against 
intolerance. It tore into the mountain of bigotry towering 
threateningly against the church. It washed away the very 
earthy matter of which the mass was composed. It sent the 
old moss-covered boulders hurling down to their own destruc- 
tion, while the priests of the Coast know the number of noise- 
less conversions, the grains of pure gold, which were gained 
in consequence to the church. All this was the glorious work 
of the editor of the Monitor, Rev. Peter C. Yorke, the young 
David of the Pacific ; but David did not slay his tens-of-thou- 
sands until, in the open arena of public controversy, he com- 
manded the respectful attention of the entire people through 
the secular press. Then did Father Yorke become the power 
in the land that he is to-day. 

The priest should be a power among the entire people, by 
virtue of his office. Even non-Catholics recognize this, and re- 
gard a priest in the same light as militiamen do an officer in 
the regular army. In small towns and cities the pastor is the 
recognized leading citizen, if by a spirited advocacy of what 
should constitute the public, moral and spiritual good, he chooses 
to take the position, and his greatest opportunities come through 
the press. An energetic pastor in the South told me that he 
proposed to build up his little parish, if he had to convert the 
rest of the town in order to do so. 

" How do you stand among the non-Catholics?" I asked. 

" Splendidly ! " he replied. " The editors of both daily papers 
are personal friends of mine, and print all that I can give them." 

The value of this position appeared on the occasion of the 
mission, when it seemed as if the entire population of the 
town was present. 

In fact, in missionary work among Catholics, as well as 
among non-Catholics, a prominent place must be given to the 
press notices and reports of the mission ; and regularly a cere- 
mony, sometimes a solemn one, takes place that of " seeing 

252 " SEEING THE EDITOR." [Nov., 

the editor." Easy indeed and pleasant is the visitation when 
the great man is introduced to the missionary as " my friend." 
He is always glad to get copy, and will promise as much space 
daily as is desired, stipulating solely that the same matter 
must not be given to " the other paper." This necessitates 
as many aspects of the subject as there are papers, but the re- 
sults repay the labor. At first, one is modestly inclined to yield 
to the kind invitation to "just give him the points," but, after 
reading the article, bristling with condemned propositions, a 
catalogue of nearly every theological note of error from merely 
"offensive to pious ears" down to downright heresy, one 
essays to write one's own articles, thus escaping the old stereo- 
typed platitudes about " powerful and eloquent efforts," and 
instead presenting the doctrine in its own simple strength, 
dignity, and beauty. One will not neglect to give the article 
an attractive title also, lest he should read with consternation, 
as a certain one has done, the subject of Purgatory headed 
the " Half-Way House," and defined to be the place where 
"an 'esteemed contemporary' (the rival editor) may expect to 
spend, in the future life, his summer vacations." One will like- 
wise employ some careful and emphatic punctuation, or the 
article may look like the celebrated Life of Lord Timothy 
Dexter, with all the punctuation-marks in a heap together and 
all sense at sea. 

Sometimes these cautions are entirely unnecessary, and an 
encyclopaedic surprise awaits one in most modest surroundings. 
I remember, once, in company with the pastor, calling upon 
the editor of a paper published in one of the busiest mining 
camps in Arizona. We wanted, primarily, to get some dodgers 
printed for the lectures to non-Catholics, and so entered the 
little hut on the side of a hill where, amidst the gloom, we 
could discern all the disorder of a well-regulated frontier 
"sanctum." Stepping over a couple of dogs, and almost onto 
a primitive printing-press, the automatic-inking-attachment ap- 
peared, in the shape of a small boy, very black but with ink, 
for the devil was not as black as he was painted. A glance 
about the apartment disclosed, among other furnishings, a mass 
of copy, transfixed to the rude table with a bowie-knife. This 
feature was not in the real Western spirit, which is averse to 
such ostentatious display, and I was not surprised when the 
editor, upon whom I had called to compliment incidentally 
upon a leader denouncing prurient literature, proved to be an 
Eastern man, a graduate of the Springfield Republican, and one 

1897.] "SEEING THE EDITOR." 253 

who could write an editorial like the famous Sam Bowles him- 
self. He was a newspaper man out of pure love for his pro- 
fession ; and if dropped upon the desert, with a font of type, 
I fancy that he would soon start "a journal of civilization" 
and circulate it upon the wind. 

That pastors are successfully cultivating the editor, is evinced 
again by the copy before me of a country newspaper, pub- 
lished in the diocese of Sacramento, which contains no less 
than three references to the work of the Catholic pastor, in- 
cluding a grateful acknowledgment of the receipt from him of 
a copy of Father Searle's Plain Facts ; and, also, the editor's 
own touching comment upon the funeral of a convert. 

This event took place in an out-mission town, where there 
are no Catholics to mention, and, consequently, no church ; so, 
in deference to the wishes of the friends of the deceased, and 
with the permission of the Right Rev. Bishop, the Catholic 
services were held in the Methodist church, the choir of which 
sang the beautiful Catholic funeral music, while the congrega- 
tion, supplied with copies of the Mass Book for non-Catholics, 
responded to the English translation of the burial-service, re- 
cited by the priest. Picture to yourself these good Protestants 
answering the verse, " From the gate of hell," with " Deliver 
her soul, O Lord." V. " Eternal rest grant to her, O Lord." 
R. "And let perpetual light shine upon her." V. "May her 
soul, and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the 
mercy of God, rest in peace." R. "Amen" while the im- 
pressive service of the Old Church went on before them. " Lex 
orandi lex credendi" says the theologian, and, as prayer is a 
way as well as a test of belief, this zealous pastor of souls, in- 
stead of building a chapel, some day, may need to make a few 
alterations, merely, in the matter of altars, and to put a big 
gilt cross over the present congregation. 

So, in one way or another, the priest who cultivates the 
press gets at the people, and this without the sacrifice of 
aught which is sacred. Contact is necessary to overcome their 
prejudice, to win their confidence. The work is more than be- 
gun. The battle is well under way, and the great army of the 
church is moving upon her inveterate enemies, Ignorance and 
Error. As the majestic array of the great order of Melchisedec, 
the secular clergy, moves on in serried ranks, we skirmishers 
may soon stand aside, with hats in hand, cheering the charge, 
while we shout the signal message of victory, " We have met 
the editor, and he is ours ! " 






OVERS of art and poetry in New York are not, 
perhaps, as well acquainted with Eliza Allen 
Starr and her work as denizens of the West, 
and South. Chicago, which has been her home 
for many years, is proud of her, and its people 
testify their pride and appreciation every week at her pictur- 
esque home, where ladies and gentlemen meet, during her lec- 
ture course, to drink in the streams of wisdom and culture that 
flow from her gifted intellect, with the accumulated freightage 
of a life blessed with lofty experiences. 

For the last nineteen years Miss Starr has lectured on 
Christian art in this city. A prolonged stay in Europe, com- 
menced in 1875, enabled her to study the great originals of 
the masters, and she brought back with her a large collection 
of good-sized photographs of these works, to which she has 
added every year fresh prints. These are displayed, during her 
yearly course of ten or twenty lectures, upon the walls of her 
lecture-room, and with these she illustrates the beauty of the 
masters. The photographs are large and clear, and enable the 
art student to study detail more readily than even the con- 
templation of the tall and often distant originals would. One 
can study the beautiful groups on Giotto's Tower in this way, 
while the height of the actual tower in Florence would prevent 
so close and instructive an inspection. 

The personality and history of Miss Starr are full of in- 
terest. She was born in Deerfield, Mass., in 1824. Dr. Com- 
fort Starr, of Ashford, County Kent,> England, the founder of 
the family, came to Cambridge, Mass., in 1634. A son of his, 
Rev. Comfort Starr, D.D., was graduated from Harvard; Uni- 
versity in 1647, and was one of the five original Fellows named 
in the college charter, dated May 10, 1650. 

On the maternal side, Miss Starr is descended from the 
"Aliens of the Bars" originally of Chelmford, Essex who 
distinguished themselves in field and council during the colonial 
history of Deerfield from the time of King Philip's wan 

The atmosphere of Deerfield was cultured, scholarly, and 

1 897.] 



artistic, and the old Deerfield Academy, where Miss Starr re- 
ceived her early education, was the representative of a society 
well read in literature, science, and art. George Fuller, in 
Deerfield, was a contemporary of hers, and Greenough and 
Henry K. Brown, and also Washington Allston, through her 
intimate knowledge of his sketches as well as his finished pic- 
tures, influenced and guided her early education in art. Be- 
sides this, she breathed an atmosphere elevated and inspired 
by Bryant, Dana, Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, and 
Lowell. Indeed, from her earliest girlhood she drank in an intel- 
lectual and artistic inspiration which prepared her for future work. 
Although born and bred in the Unitarian faith, a sermon 

by Theodore 
Hall, Boston, in 
the foundations 
faith, and a sub- 
to Philadelphia, 
and was influ- 
fessor George 
University of 
relative of hers 
and also the re- 
bishop Kenrick, 
her towards Ca- 
result was, that 
Boston she was 
ceived into the 
by Bishop Fitz- 
made her First 
Christmas morn- 


Parker, at Music 
1845, disturbed 
of her religious 
sequent visit 
when she met 
enced by Pro- 
Allen, of the 
Pennsylvania, a 
and a Catholic, 
nowned Arch- 
tended to urge 
tholicity. The 
on her return to 
eventually re- 
Catholic Church 
p a t r i c k, and 
Communion on 

ing, 1854. 

Two years later she went to Chicago and began her life- 
work as a teacher and writer on art and artists. 

In the Chicago fire of 1871 Miss Starr lost a great many 
valuable art treasures in the destruction of her home. 

Another result of her visit to Rome and the principal cities 
of Italy, in 1875, was ner beautiful book Pilgrims and Shrines. 
It was, however, not till 1877 that she began the course of 
lectures on Christian art with which her name and fame have 
become associated, and which have won her a place among her 
contemporaries as one of the most enthusiastic expounders and 
teachers of the beauties of Christian art. 

The object of this article is more particularly to emphasize 
the authority and position attained by Miss Starr in this line, 


and to show what she is doing for the education of the people, in 
Christian art. A synopsis of her course of lectures, or rather a few 
words on her method of treatment, with occasional quotations, 
will be necessary. Her first lectures are on the Roman Catacombs. 

She calls the Roman Campagna, " that prairie with a story 
of more than 2,000 years." How interesting her description of 
the crypt under the Vatican Hill, where the remains of St. 
Peter were interred by devoted brethren, and of the spot on the 
Campagna called the " Three Fountains," from the* fact of three 
fountains leaping forth, as the head of St. Paul is said to have 
leaped thrice as it fell from the axe of the pagan headsman ! 
And how kind of Lucina, a woman of senatorial rank, to have 
given a spot in her vineyard where his companions buried the 
martyr now the site of the basilica of St. Paul ! Miss Starr 
says : " Around the narrow bed of St. Paul, in the vineyard of 
Santa Lucina, the faithful gathered in their days of persecu- 
tion, sending out fossors, as we now send out engineers; not, 
like us, to bring distant places nearer, but to elude the search 
of the persecutor." 

" A drive along the famous Roman vias, or ways, in the 
first century of the Christian era, would have disclosed hand- 
some tombs, their entrances ornamented with pictures like 
those of Pompeii, but turned by Nero's persecution into resting 
places for a patrician martyr like Agnes, an imperial Domitilla, 
a majestic Bibiana, a princely Cecilia, or a noble Sebastian, and 
heroic Lawrence, whose grandeur of faith had laughed at death 
and earned for them the wreaths of a sanctified immortality." 

From Miss Starr's lectures it seems indisputable that these 
Christian cemeteries grew from the germ of a family tomb, as 
the catacomb of St. Priscilla. The walls of this famous cata- 
comb are as an illuminated manuscript from which to learn the 
belief and practices of the first ages of Christianity. 

On leaving the scene of the catacombs, Miss Starr sums up 
her feeling in these beautiful words : 

u And as we stand a moment at the head of the long stair- 
way and cull a few rose-buds, even in January, from the bushes 
that overhang the opening, we look around us to realize, for 
the moment at least, that under this fair campagna, under these 
smiling vineyards, lie, in their narrow beds, an army of the 
living God, whose resting places, as Leo the Great so beautifully 
said: 'Encircle the Eternal City with a halo of martyrdom.'" 

Another of Miss Starr's most interesting lectures is " The 
Likeness of our Lord." 


Miss Starr thinks it highly probable that one of the one 
hundred and twenty disciples of our Lord (possibly the gifted 
St. Luke) may have limned the Divine features. She states 
that Abgar Uscomo, King of Edessa, according to tradition, 
through a messenger, actually did procure a likeness. "And 
what need," she asks, " is there for the captious to account un- 
authentic that likeness which Veronica of Jerusalem received 
upon the many-folded mantle which, in her sublime p'ity, she 
pressed upon the blood-stained countenance of the Saviour?" 

Miss Starr's chain of evidence for a true and uniform like- 
ness of our Lord, as known and accepted by Christians from 
the first century down, is indissoluble and most convincing. It 
embraces proofs from the very walls of the catacombs to the 
pictures of Christian- artists of later centuries, representing our 
Lord, all of them, after the approved model. The wine-colored 
hair flowing off into curls on his shoulders, the pointed beard, 
the beautiful oval face, and the deep, tenderly sad blue eyes, 
that had so much effect upon Peter when our Lord looked at 
him all these points are clearly established in all the pictures 
of our Lord. The picture said to have been sketched by St. 
Peter for friends, and the Edessa likeness, those traced to St. 
Luke, and the wonderful mosaics containing pictures of our 
Lord, even down to the figure of our Saviour in " The Last 
Supper " all these are woven into a complete piece of evidence 
for an authorized and traditional likeness by Miss Starr's treat- 
ment of this interesting topic. 

The late Bishop Ryan, of Buffalo, after hearing this lecture 
on the Holy Face, said to Miss Starr : " Not one link is lack- 
ing in your chain of testimony." 

Her next step in the course of lectures is in a valuable pa- 
per on the Byzantine period, called the Decline of Art, in which 
Miss Starr bridges naturally and easily the lapse between the 
earliest ages of Christian art and its revival by Cimabue, Duc- 
cio, and Giotto, with others. For it was Duccio and others of 
the Siena school, and Cimabue and Giotto, of the Florentine 
school, who first broke away from the severe and formal treat- 
ment of the Byzantine period, and this under the all-powerful 
and inspiring influence upon life, morals, and especially art, 
caused by the heroic and holy life of St. Francis of Assisi. 

Giotto had been deeply fascinated by the life of St. Fran- 
cis ; it impregnated his imagination and influenced all his work. 
His pictures of Holy Obedience, Holy Poverty, and Holy 
Chastity, painted on three arches over the tomb of St. Francis ; 
VOL. LXVI. 17 


his work at Padua, at Assisi, and especially in the Bardi Chapel 
in Florence, are all fine specimens of his skill. 

But Miss Starr's treatment of Giotto as an architect, in his 
design for the Campanile of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del 
Fiore, is a most fascinating example of her work. 

How beautifully she describes the details of this wonderful 
Tower in Florence! Listening to her glowing words, you see 
story rising upon story, each telling its own part of the history 
of the world in sculptured design or brilliant mosaic ; for Giotto 
was the painter guiding the hand of the sculptor, and in every 
premeditated cut of the chisel he saw and pointed out the 
effect in blended colors, blending and softened to the eye of 
future ages by distance and atmosphere. With its figures of 
patriarchs and prophets, its symbols of all learning, sciences 
and arts, and virtues, it may be called the alpha and omega of 
the history of man, natural and supernatural, cut in enduring 
stone. The Very Rev. Edward Sorin, late superior-general of 
the Order of the Holy Cross, of Notre Dame, Indiana, when 
this lecture on Giotto's Tower was given there by Miss Starr, 
expressed its value to the world in his characteristic way : 

'* I have passed through Florence thirty-eight times and 
every time I visited Giotto's Tower, but until I heard this lec- 
ture I never knew anything about it." 

From the dedication of his genius to sacred art by Giotto 
to the celestial and highly spiritualized art of Guido of Mu- 
gello, known to us as Fra Angelico, is but a natural step. As 
Miss Starr says, in the light of his great after-fame, " there is 
no one now who would say, ' What a pity Fra Angelico became 
a monk ! ' He and his brother entered the Dominican Order 
to save souls. As Miss. Starr said once to the writer: <c Fra 
Angelico painted for nothing in the world but to save souls." 
He thus painted with the spiritual touch of the seraph, his be- 
ings were as if translated to another plane of glorified humanity, 
to another degree in the order of grace. The walls of the 
cloister of San Marco, the superb Tabernacle, painted for the 
Guild of Joiners, the walls and ceiling of the Capella San Briz- 
zio, all attest the beautiful spiritual art and the gifted touch 
of the Angelican Friar." 

From Fra Angelico, Miss Starr proceeds to tell the story of 
the "Three Rivals of the Year 1400" Ghiberti, Brunelleschi, 
and Donatello. Ghiberti won the contest for the gate of the 
famous Baptistery ; Brunelleschi, after a profound study of the 
great Pantheon, planned the dome of the cathedral, which seems 
to rise before the very eyes of the listener as she goes on with 


her description ; and Donatello fills up the niches on Giotto's 
Tower with figures hardly less grand than their resting place. 

In describing the beautiful details of Brunelleschi's dome 
Miss Starr is very interesting. Oh ! how well she has studied 
and shown to the people the grandeur and beauty of these fine 
cathedrals, has explained the symbolical meaning, the artistic 
trend, the blended and harmonious suggestiveness contained 
in Gothic arch, groined ceiling, or massiolated turret, in niche 
rising over niche, and dome encircling dome ! 

The works of architects and sculptors like these we are 
speaking of the bronze of Ghiberti, the rare glass-work of 
Donatello, and the mingling in endless beauty of design of Bru^ 
nelleschi's stone and brick might still be unappreciated by a 
preoccupied age but for interpreters like Miss Starr. 

How many of us would have thoroughly appreciated Turner 
but for a Ruskin ? How many have gazed on Giotto's Tower or 
II Duomo and not understood them until interpreted by the 
gentle, spiritualized woman who has studied them with the 
breadth of a life's culture and the purity of a mind refined by 
faith and prayer ? 

Then the third rival, -Donatello, so gentle, so sunny, so lova^ 
ble, is treated in a lecture; the beauty of his Magdalen and 
other statues, and his fine reliefs, she says, rivalling the Greek art 
in its fidelity to life, and surpassing it from having in addition 
the spiritual touch of the Christian artist. 

After Luca della Robbia, of a great Florentine family, is 
treated. Ghiberti trained him. His bas-reliefs, his groups for 
the grand organ, his panels on Giotto's Tower, are all instinct 
with life and motion. And his magnificently designed great 
bronze door leading into the sacristy of Santa Maria del Fiore 
what a superb piece of work ! 

Next come the two great masters, Michael Angelo and Ra- 
phael. Michael Angelo is efficiently treated from his first work, 
the " Pieta," in St. Peter's Basilica, to his famous " Last Judg- 
ment," in the Sistine Chapel ; while Raphael is portrayed from 
the very earliest artistic influences at Urbino, under the gui- 
dance of his father, Giovanni Sanzio, all through his famous 
Florentine work, to the frescoes, putting the climax to his fame, 
in the Camera della Segnatura of the Vatican, and, as Miss 
Starr regards it, "the inspired Sistine Madonna at Dresden." 

Then the course brings us to a study of modern artists who are 
pervaded by the Christian spirit to Overbeck and Millet, and the 
school of great German artists, almost unknown in this country 
but for the series of artistic Dusseldorf prints recently issued. 


Following next comes the Beuron school of art, thoroughly 
treated by Miss Starr, which found its full blossoming at Monte 
Casino and a fitting commemoration in the celebration of the 
fourteenth anniversary of the Benedictine Order. 

Finally she treats, with a sisterly hand, the American ideal 
school of art, represented by Washington Ailston, William 
Story; W. K. Brown, the famous sculptor whose work New- 
Yorkers daily gaze on with admiration ; George Fuller, who 
drew a fine crayon of Miss Starr when she was a maiden of 
twenty summers only, now in Miss Starr's home in Chicago ; 
Harriet G. Hosmer, still using her gifted hand and mind in 
sculpture, besides Sarah Freeman Clark, and others. 

In conclusion, it should be stated that Miss Starr's course 
contains eighty lectures and is most efficient and exhaustive, 
covering the whole history of Christian art. 

It is in vain to exclude from the mind the importance and 
beauty of the Christian art heritage, as it is the most precious 
possession of civilization extant. 

Imbued with deep knowledge of it from the first century to 
the present, with enthusiastic love of it and veneration for its 
spiritual lessons, learned in the motives of sanctity that inspired 
the brush and guided the chisel of Christian artists, devoting 
her life to research for new materials, Miss Starr is pre- 
eminently a teacher, an expounder and interpreter of the 
masters, whose authority cannot be questioned nor position 
assailed. In addition, her beautiful lyrics, and especially her 
well-known works, Pilgrims and Shrines and The Three Keys, 
have already found a high place in contemporary literature. 
We cannot help saying that all through her lectures is noted 
the charm of treatment, the inspiration of the subject, caught 
and mirrored in her own person to the audience itself. Listen- 
ing to her lecture on Giotto's Tower, one is riveted by the 
deep, spiritual magnetism of her countenance, the kindling of 
her eyes over the beauty of the subject, and becomes in his 
turn aglow with the exalted spirit of the lecturer. 

It is said night-belated pedestrians, passing her residence in 
the wee small hours, have seen the steady glow of the night- 
lamp in her studio, as she continued far into the morning the 
researches on her beloved theme. 

She is yet vigorous in her voice and gesture, and her face 
shows only the deepening lines of thought and meditation, and 
as the years come and go, they seem to add only mellowing 
touches to a career which has long since attained full ripeness. 



Ca th olic Un iversity of A m erica . 

HE Fourth International Congress of Catholic 
Scientists was held at Fribourg, Switzerland, 
during the week August 15-21. Three years 
had elapsed since the third congress, and the 
interval had been devoted to earnest prepara- 
tion by the Central Committee. Still, with memories of Paris 
and Brussels in mind, one could not be blamed for taking 
thought as to the prospects in a town which boasts a popula- 
tion of fourteen thousand. These or similar reflections may 
have hastened the arrival of many who sought knowledge in 
comfort ; at all events, the little city was in a bustle of wel- 
come when I reached it, August 13. Early and late the Bureau 
wars thronged with visitors in quest of information, but so well 
had the arrangements been made that every new-comer was 
speedily provided with lodgings, cards of admission, and official 
programmes. One had then ample time to make acquaintance 
with the environment. A pleasant task, for, in spite of all the 
vicissitudes that mark its political history, Fribourg has retained 
its traditional hospitality. It was Maitre Lescarbot, the chroni- 
cles say, who wrote of the Fribourgeoises in 1620: 

" Et comme le parler du Suisse et du Frangais 
Leur est familier, elles prennent le choix 
Au son du violon, de suivre la cadence 
Tantot de I'Allemand, tantot de notre France." 

Light-heartedness is still a characteristic of the people ; but 
on this particular occasion the two familiar languages were 
constantly crossed by strange accents from every country of 
Europe, whereat the home-folk shook their heads dubiously, 
while the visitors strolled on through the narrow up-and-down 
streets out across the great suspension bridge to the neighbor- 
ing heights, whence the view sweeps from Fribourg and its 
setting of green hills, threaded by the greener Sarine, to the 
snowy peaks of the Oberland. 

Some of the changes wrought by time have bettered the 
town. It is no longer as Cornelius Agrippa described it in 
J 534) "altogether lacking in scientific culture." As the site of 
a flourishing university, it has become the centre of Catholic 


activity in Switzerland ; and when, on this account, it was chosen 
for the Congress of 1897, Dr. Sturm, the rector of the univer- 
sity, courageously undertook the work of organization. His 
success in educational lines inspired him with confidence. The 
growth of the university has been rapid. Though six older in- 
stitutions were already in the field, the Swiss Catholics gave 
Fribourg their loyal support. The students who come up from 
the colleges have received a thorough training ; and as the 
university can be reached in a few hours from any part of the 
country, distance i3 no hindrance. Other lands also have con- 
tributed their quota of students, so that now the attendance 
has reached a respectable figure. The catalogue for the spring 
term, or Sommersemester, of this year places the total at 348, 
of whom 301 are matriculated. Switzerland has 127 on the 
register, and the remaining 174 are foreigners, who come chiefly 
from Germany. Instruction is given by 63 teachers of various 
academic grades professors, docents, and assistants. The pro- 
portion, which lovers of long division may determine, is not 
immeasurably far from that which exists in our own Catholic 
University, with 157 students and 29 instructors. 

The term had closed at Fribourg before the Congress as- 
sembled, and the lecture-halls were thrown open to a larger 
class of older students. The university thus became the centre 
of attraction, and its professors spared no pains in securing 
the convenience of their guests. The daily schedule included 
sessions for each division of the Congress, public sessions in 
which matters of general interest were discussed, and social 
events which brought the members together informally. 

The report submitted at the first public session by the Sec- 
retary, Monsignor Kirsch, showed a total membership of 2,600, 
of whom nearly 700 were present and followed the proceedings. 
Making due allowance for corrections that may appear in 
the Compte Rendu, we cannot say that there has been a de- 
cided gain during the past three years. It was gratifying, how- 
ever, to note a larger representation from English-speaking 
countries than at any previous congress. America was repre- 
sented by Professors Grannan, Hyvernat, Pace, De Saussure, 
and Shahan, of the Catholic University ; Dr. Zahm, Procurator- 
General of the Holy Cross Congregation, and Monsignor 
O'Connell, formerly rector of the American College in Rome. 
The deputation from the British Isles was more numerous, and 
included professors from various, institutions of learning. 

In another respect, and that of prime importance, the pro- 


gress was encouraging. At Fribourg 302 papers were pre- 
sented as against 170 at Brussels. The obvious inference is 
that active participation in the work is growing, and that many 
who formerly were content to appear merely as subscribers or 
listeners had been stimulated to scientific effort. 

This result alone amply justifies the movement ; its full sig- 
nificance appears when we consider the character of the gather- 
ing, which was, in many senses, cosmopolitan. Prelates of the 
church, leaders in state affairs, and men who stand high in the 
scientific world represented the three gre?t influences by which 
human thought and human action are moulded. Their pres- 
ence and co-operation was a new proof of the old truth that rule, 
to be successful, must count upon intelligence and knowledge. 

It was indeed hopeful and inspiring to see men from all 
parts of the civilized world united in the one purpose of learn- 
ing and declaring the truth. Before a clear perception of the 
highest interests of religion, and of the relations which subsist 
between Catholic doctrine and progressive science, prejudice 
and national Idola Specus vanish as mists. On the map of such 
a congress no frontiers are drawn save those that divide truth 
from error. And the only passport required is intelligence 
sealed by broad sympathy. 

In this frame of mind, also, the genuine savant widens out 
his scientific interest beyond the limits of his specialty. He is 
brought for the time into contact with other lines of thought 
and into warmer appreciation of other thinkers. At Fribourg 
exceptional opportunities were offered to those who desired in- 
formation concerning the latest developments in all departments 
of knowledge. Ten " sections " barely sufficed for the wide 
range of subjects assigned in the official list as follows : Reli- 
gious Sciences, 28; Biblical, 30; Philosophical, 51; Economic 
and Social, 41 ; Historical, 54; Philological, 24; Mathematical 
and Physical, 30 ; Biological and Medical, 9 ; Anthropological, 
16; Archaeological, 19. The distribution is by no means even,, 
and it is particufarly to be regretted that so few papers dealt 
with the biological problems which occupy a central position in 
both the scientific and the philosophic discussions of our day. 
It is, however, worthy of note that Philosophy and History 
were in the lead, and it is doubtless more than a coincidence 
that these two branches have been specially favored by the 
fostering care of Leo XIII. Their influence, in fact, was felt 
in nearly all the sections, and if any method of treatment pre- 
dominated it was the historical. This does not, of course, im- 
ply that the Congress shirked actual questions or set its ban 


upon living issues. On the contrary, the most enthusiastic au- 
diences were to be found wherever, in any section, these topics 
came up for discussion. The general conviction seemed to be 
that it is. advisable to look facts in the face, and that it is 
just as well to help on truth by helping on science. 

The long list of papers was in one way a drawback. One 
could not be present in all the sections, and it was difficult to 
make a choice. The next Congress might facilitate matters by 
preparing abstracts that would show the drift and gist of each 
paper, or at least the point of view from which each subject 
is handled. This plan, also, would put more life into the dis- 
cussions than they can possibly have when they depend on the 
spur of the moment. Besides the economy of time, one's nerves 
would be spared the trouble of listening to well-meant remarks 
that are occasionally extra formam and extra rem. 

As a full account of the proceedings will be published in 
due course, there is no need of anticipating by going into de- 
tails. After all, what chiefly concerns us is the tone of the 
Congress and not the individual notes except, perhaps, the 
key-note. This was frankly struck by the Coadjutor Bishop of 
Cologne, when he claimed for Catholic scientists "freedom in 
scientific research, freedom to lift questions of every sort out 
of the ruts and sift them, yet along with this freedom proper 
respect for the authority of the church, which is no hindrance, 
but rather a safeguard, to liberty." Weighty as they are, these 
words will surprise those only who imagine that the church 
blocks the way to investigation, or that she is best served by 
the blockers. Let us hope that the plain statement of Mon- 
signor Schmitz will silence such misrepresentations by showing 
to those who are outside of the church what her real attitude 
is and what the duties of Catholics are in respect to the use 
of their intelligence. That he was literally understood no one 
could doubt who attended the Congress. Every subject on the 
list was freely discussed and divergence of opinion was rather 
expected. But as a rule each disputant or critic seemed to take 
for granted that the thinker whom he opposed was quite as 
anxious as himself to uphold the integrity of Catholic belief. 
Some even ventured the remark that a man who looks, at all 
sides of a question and thinks for himself, as St. Thomas did, 
is not so easily trapped by error in disguise. 

There is a popular belief on this side of the Atlantic that 
America leads the world, and it is, in large measure, correct. 
Our free institutions give a scope to individual effort that else- 


where is hedged about with restrictions. In all that depends 
upon mechanical inventions, or quickens the transaction of busi- 
ness, or ministers to comfort, we can certainly teach the Old 
World some lessons. Likewise, in a higher sphere, the work 
of our scholars commands and receives acknowledgment abroad. 
But we would not be Americans, in the best sense of the term, 
if we failed to give credit to the intellectual achievements of 
Europe. Complain as we may "about their slowness in some 
things, we cannot deny their scientific advance. 

The form of government does not affect this progress. It 
is as vigorous in imperial Germany as in republican France, in 
Catholic Belgium as in Protestant England. Its chief sources 
are the universities, which cultivate science as much for the 
sake of science as for the purpose of practical application ; 
and the temper of the universities goes far towards shaping 
public opinion. Hence even in countries whose political regime 
is more stringent than ours, there is a tolerance for advanced 
thought and personal views a scientific freedom which obviates 
such difficulties as have recently furnished food for comment 
in the circle of American universities. It may be that we 
have yet somewhat to learn. 

At Fribourg the leading spirits were naturally university 
professors. Many of them came from countries where the action 
of the church is unfortunately hampered, and to such men the 
freedom which the church enjoys in America was matter for envy. 

Clearer notions as to our condition were furnished by Mon- 
signor O'Connell's lucid exposition of " A New Idea in the 
Life of Father Hecker." The Founder of the Congregation of 
St. Paul belonged to the class of men whose works live after 
them ; and his works have been made known to the world 
through his biography and its French translation. In devel- 
oping this " new idea," Monsignor O'Connell laid particular 
stress on the contrast between the spirit of pagan Rome and 
that of the American Constitution, as regards the source and 
character of human rights and human authority. Under 
Caesar man as man had no rights, and such as the state granted 
him in his character of citizen were by no means sacred. 
According to our Constitution, all men are endowed by their 
Creator with certain inalienable rights, and among these are life, 
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. In pagan Rome the em- 
peror was not only above all law ; it was his will that made law. 
In America no man is superior to the law ; for above all indi- 
viduals and all changes of officials, the majesty of law is supreme. 


Theoretically, the relations between church and state in 
this country are not altogether perfect, but practically the 
church is untrammelled in the exercise of her rights. Had 
the founders of our government established a state church, it 
would have been that of the majority. All things considered, 
the church seems to thrive at least as well in the United 
States as in any other country. 

Such views influenced the life of Father Hecker and were 
the secret of his success. He was filled with that loyal devo- 
tion which Catholics in America bear to the principles on 
which their government is founded, and the conviction that 
these principles afford Catholics favorable opportunities for 
promoting the glory of God, the growth of the Church, and 
the salvation of souls in America. 

Looking over the work of the Congress and its various 
features, one may ask, What, then, is the main utility of such 
gatherings ? So far as communicating the outcome of research 
is concerned, special congresses serve the purpose. And even 
as regards the matters discussed at Fribourg, more definite in- 
formation can be gotten from the printed papers. When all 
this and more has been said, it seems to me that one great 
benefit remains which can be procured by no other means. 
Catholic thinkers are scattered throughout the world, each 
doing his share in the cause of science and religion. In their 
isolation they are not aware of their strength they act with- 
out co-operating. To unite these forces, to instil into each 
mind the consciousness of that union and thereby to infuse 
new vigor into their individual efforts such, I take it, is the 
chief result of these triennial assemblies. There can be no 
doubt that the men who were at Fribourg went away with a 
better appreciation of their opportunities and with a firmer 
resolution to profit by them. 

Predictions in such cases are unseemly ; but one may con- 
fidently hope that the Congress at Munich in 1900 will be 
even richer in results. It is certainly desirable that America 
should have a larger representation. With the present trend of 
thought in Europe, it is not hard to correct the false impres- 
sions that are circulated in regard to our national institutions. 
And with the further development of our educational system, 
it will be easy to show our transatlantic friends that we have 
heeded the words of Leo XIII.: Anteire decet Catholicos 
homines, non subsequi. 

WE have a book on the Beauties and Antiqui- 
ties of Ireland* by Mr. T. O. Russell, who has made 
his mark as a writer of fiction. The frontispiece 
is a view of the ruins of Cong, that monastery in 
which Roderick O'Conor, the last Ard Righ, or 
King Paramount, of Ireland closed the troubles of life and 
reign ; and turning to the chapter which describes it, we have 
some interesting bits of history. The abbey, whose ruins we 
have in the picture, is not the establishment of St. Fechin, 
which may have been like the others of the sixth century - 
a few stone churches surrounded by wooden cells for monks 
and scholars, great wooden halls, refectories, and chapter-house 
for general purposes but it must have been, judging from the 
remains, one of the most beautiful specimens of the tiansition 
Gothic of the twelfth century to be found in Western Europe. 
It was completed under the father of Roderick, in the year 
1128, and, as we have said, Roderick himself ended his days 
there. Mr. Russell takes Moore's view of the qualities of the 
unhappy monarch, but Thomas Moore was an impulsive, not a 
philosophical historian, and we question his ability to gauge 
the difficulties that environed him. From this book persons of 
Irish descent may learn something of the land of their fathers, 
and the degree of their civilization as stone and metal work 
will reveal them. It has been observed with truth that no- 
where else is there found such a perfect fitting of antiquities 
to scenery, as though those ingrained artists were inspired at 
their work of building by the character of the scenery. Imag- 
ination expanded or revelled, became weird or awful in connec- 
tion with the sky, the woods and mountains, the plains, lakes, 
or stretches of moorland desert, so as to become under the 
plastic genius of those Celts an interpreter of nature in her 
moods. It was poetry expressing itself in the arch, the window, 
the involutions of carving infinitely various. Mr. Russell has 
performed his work well. 

* London : Kegan Paul, Trench & Co. 


Dr. E. W. Gilliam in Thomas Ruffin * offers a view of 
Southern society before the war for the truth of which his 
Eminence Cardinal Gibbons vouches. The story is an interest- 
ing one, well worked out, and the characters life-like. There 
is a good deal of clever comedy in the scene between the 
negroes of the plantation and their master; and if we accept 
it as an accurate picture, Sambo must have been a pleasant 
creature before liberty and Northern refinement made him fit 
for a short time to say his prayers and the nearest tree. 
But this is not all that may be said of the book ; the struggles 
of Thomas Ruffin, after the ruin of his father through foolish 
trust in a bank owned by friends, are very skilfully presented 
as a formative influence on his character. The Peales are good 
specimens of Quakers, reminding one of the portraiture of 
English Quakers in the last century of which we hear so much, 
and more like the rest of the world than were these in their 
anxiety to bend to everybody, while at the same time doing 
what they could to escape intercourse, except that of their own 
sect. They are honest people, those Peales, whereas Quakers 
on the other side of the Atlantic used to be considered some- 
what wily. There is an Irish street-ballad of the time which 
puts their honesty in a questionable light : 

" My father was a Quaker, 
Although an honest man." 

The reader ought to make the acquaintance of Dr. Gilliam's 
Quakers, for all that. 

Patrins,^ by Louise Imogen Guiney. Miss Guiney is the 
most fascinating of Bohemians, because her wild world is in 
the fancy. She lives in it with great zest, but with sound re- 
gard for the other worlds, viz., the one called county society, 
that old-fashioned, immensely respectable, and somewhat good- 
natured institution, and that known as London plutocratic 
society, which is rather " rapid," mixed, entertaining, and ill- 
natured, but bowed down to collections of diamonds and crush 
hats, Jews and chartered company men. She leads us away 
out of the beaten tracks ; the leaves she drops to guide those 
who come after are the Patrins each one glittering with dia- 
monds as if the dew were made for ever radiant by the sun 
instead of taken up by his hot kiss. They are various as the 
shades of green in woodland undergrowth and brake ; there are 
browns too, and the red leaves of the early fall. 

* Baltimore : The Friedenwald Company. f Boston : Copeland & Day. 

1 897.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 269 

Diving into the volume, we have caught a thing of beauty 
impossible to be described. She calls it " An Open Letter to 
the Moon"; and writing to the moon as a lover, she is all 
sighs, all raptures, all vows, all jealousies- wayward herself as 
the object of her idolatry, but charming in every mood. We 
are more pleased with her jealousy of the " Man in the Moon" 
than with anything since that wanderer Odysseus so sold Poly- 
pheme. We do not care what any one says, the jealousy of 
this sweetest lunatic is unsurpassable for airy grace and fun. 
It must be hard to see in possession of the premises, as if he 
had a right to lean on the window-sill and look down to earth, 
that , Falstaffian, Toby Belchian person, and this trial is not 
diminished by the thought that the lady is Diana. For Diana 
has seen a good deal of badness in her time, so she may not 
be quite so innocent as she looks. Smooth water runs pro- 
verbially deep. We dismiss her and her translated lover we 
mean translated in the sense " Oh, Bottom, how thou art trans- 
lated!" to the reader. They are too much for us, we cannot 
support the burden of so much pleasure at hearing the divine 
rant of the translated one ; and how worthy of it is the 

" Orbed maiden, with white fire laden," 

" Goddess excellently bright " ; 

the charmer at whose looking in 

" The oldest shade midst oldest trees 
Feels palpitations." 

There is a leaf of the autumn on which she has inscribed 
the cabalistic formula, " On Teaching One's Grandmother how 
to Suck Eggs." How old she is, in writing her experiences 
on this red leaf ! She is, too, as sceptical as an agnostic ; for 
who except herself or an agnostic would decide upon the question 
as to the priority between the bird and the egg? One must take 
Mr. Herbert Spencer as an authority, since we know he stood 
at the cradle of heterogeneous homogeneity, and she claims to 
know all about it, doubtless because some spirit has led her 
along the stony road of the struggling ages, as well as to woods 
and lakes and mountains where the beauty of the earth is 
seated, and up to the interstellar spaces round which, like 
snow-flakes in the infinite, fall the myriad stars. 

She has a dialogue on that clever cynic Charles II., in which 
she makes out Old Rowley not to be a bad sort by any means. 
It is excellent for its humor, appreciation of facts, shrewdness 


and courageous disregard for Whig stupidities. We have sel- 
dom seen a dialogue as well brought out : not a bit of labor 
about it. And when we say this, she has accomplished what 
few have done to make the old-fashioned didactic vehicle, a 
conversation, natural, easy, and well-informed, as if one sat 
with Alcibiades when no ambition moved him, or with Byron 
when the cruel demon of egotism was for a moment charmed, 
and the freshness and fun and buoyancy, the strength and rich- 
ness and grace of his noble but perverted disposition poured 
themselves out without restraint. 

A Woman of Moods* by Mrs. Charlton Anne (Ellam Fen- 
wicke-Allan), is a set of scenes through which the principal 
character moves. She says she does not write in the ortho- 
dox style ; by which, we suppose, she means there is nothing 
of a plot, according to the rule prevailing at present in that 
class of composition. We can, at least, say that if her aim 
was to draw pictures of life connected with the fortunes of a 
particular character, Valeria Sabestri, she has succeeded in giv- 
ing an interesting book. She has made one beautiful and 
noble person in Clare, a young woman externally placid, al- 
most colorless apparently, but with force of will under her 
gentleness and equal to the demand of a great sacrifice at the 
call of an enlightened conscience. Valeria, who may be re- 
garded as the heroine, is considered by the writer " a rare type, 
perhaps owing to her English-Italian parentage." She is in 
reality a well-bred, clever woman, impulsive enough perhaps, 
but capable of taking advantage, for her own settlement in life, 
of the self-sacrifice of Clare. - 

There is a good bit of satire in an opinion expressed by 
Hope Dorrien to Valeria at the pleasant country house in 
which Valeria that is, Mrs. Villiers, for she is married to a 
considerable squire, Ambrose Villiers dispenses hospitality as 
one of the powers in county society. Hope Dorrien is a 
" young authoress " whose books are criticised unfavorably by 
the goody-goody people ; and she takes up the theme in this 
way : " It has been my study lately watching and finding out 
about these less well-bred women, who outwardly have such 
spotless characters, and who take it upon themselves to censure 
their better-born sisters and my books! I have discovered that 
in the majority of cases they are just as bad as their more 
aristocratic sisters, only they do not break that commandment 
which forbids them to be found out." 

* London : Burns & Gates ; New York : Benziger Bros. 


There are some passages of tragic interest, but we prefer 
the brighter ones, such as when Madame Sabestri, Valeria's 
mother, performs the operation she describes as "pulling a 
lady's leg." The lady was an Anglican, rather ignorant, pre- 
tentious, and under-bred notwithstanding the handle to her 
name, for she is a Lady Maud, and Madame, who is a Catholic, 
11 roasts her " with the softest voice and most exquisite manners. 
We like the Madame ; she is a bit odd, but always a thorough 
lady. The book is very pleasant reading. 

Barbara Blomberg* by Georg Ebers, translated from the Ger- 
man by Mary J. Safford. This is an historical romance of the 
reign of Charles V. by Georg Ebers, a man whose historical 
costume can always be relied upon, and it is translated by a judi- 
cious use of the language of the time which evinces an acquain- 
tance with Elizabethan literature beyond the common. We, 
however, think the work marred by misrepresentation of the tone 
of Catholic thought concerning purity of life in a way that 
must be inexcusable in one who understands so much of the 
enthusiasm of the Catholic mind in obedience to the claims of 
duty. He has taken his estimate of Catholic morality from 
Goethe, forgetting that the creator of " Faust " is more cynical 
even than the author of " Don Juan." The gross scenes of the 
latter work are not its main evil, shameless though they are, 
but it is the disposition which Byron manifests to kill in him- 
self, the moment he discovers it, every generous and virtuous 
sentiment and impulse. In " Faust " the problem seems to be 
the hopelessness of resistance to the powers, whatever they 
are, that beset conscientious life apart from the exercise of 
the intellectual faculties. It is a hideous philosophy, bearing 
fruit in the political and social fires that are active in Germany 
under the crust of a militarism whose end is rapidly approach- 
ing. The order that reigns there is that of Rome before the 
revolt of pretorians. When the socialists and anarchists invade 
the camp, as they will do hand-in-hand, the empire of blood 
and iron will pass like a vision of the night, or rather Europe 
will be relieved from the nightmare that now oppresses it. Men 
like Ebers are so tainted with the idea that religion is only 
a sort of police, they are so convinced that morality has no 
higher sanction than that of social utility, and that even reli- 
gion itself is only an expression of social order, that they poison 
minds more effectually than the grosser panders to depraved 

* New York : D. Appleton & Company. 


taste can do it. The very foulness of the latter may act as an 
antidote in the case of fairly healthy minds. We hope we 
shall see no more of such German estimates of Catholic purity 
for the future, no more than we shall be subjected to the in- 
fluence of German manners and German absolutism. 

Memoirs of the Crimea* by Sister Mary Aloysius, is a nar- 
rative of the services rendered by the Sisters of Mercy to the 
sick and wounded soldiers during the Crimean War. Two of 
the nuns sleep on the heights of Balaklava; the writer of the 
little book before us is the sole survivor of the band that went 
out from Ireland. She is now a very aged woman, but not- 
withstanding the infirmities of age, she has yielded to the soli- 
citations of friends and given her experiences in hospital nurs- 
ing and ministrations to the wounded during a campaign in 
which great battles were fought, and which was marked by ex- 
ceptional sickness and loss of life, owing to the incompetency 
and corruption of the British commissariat. Sister Aloysius, 
in her gentle and graphic picture of the work done by the 
sisters, makes no reference to the disgraceful system, or want 
of system, which caused such havoc among the troops; but we 
are bound to refer to it, bound also to refer to the convenient 
policy which applied for the services of the nuns and the thank- 
less bigotry that afterwards ignored them. However, we are 
delighted to say that her Majesty the Queen has been pleased 
to confer the Red Cross on Sister Mary Aloysius, and that too 
without requiring her to travel all the way from the Convent of 
Mercy, Gort, County Galway, to Windsor to receive it. Most 
touching indeed is this recognition after forty years. Most 
gracious is the consideration that sent the Red Cross when it 
was quite impossible Sister Mary Aloysius could travel to re- 
ceive it. A journey from Gort to Dublin even, much less to 
London and Windsor, would tax the strength of a man in the 
prime of life. All is well that ends well. 

This volume is very interesting indeed; and not the least 
interesting impression is that forced upon one by the uncon- 
scious testimony to Protestant prejudice and ignorance it dis- 
plays. It may be, however, that special knowledge enables us 
not merely to read between but below the lines. But this we 
can say, all that we know from the time and since, Dr. Man- 
ning, afterwards the great cardinal, predicted to the sisters in 
his beautiful letter. He prepared them for much of what they 
would have to bear, but even his sagacity could not foresee 

* New York : Benziger Brothers. 


the contrast in treatment given to Miss Florence Nightingale 
and the incessant praise lavished upon her, and the contempt 
shown or grudging acknowledgment yielded to the nuns at the 
time, and the dead silence in regard to their services since, un- 
til the other day. 

First Lessons in Our Country's History* comes before us as 
a revised edition. The compiler is Mr. William Swinton, the 
"author of School (sic) History of the United States, Outlines of 
the World's History, History of the Army of the Potomac." The 
book was suggested by " the extension of the study of United 
States history into the lower grades of our schools." The 
labor of compiling a history for the use of the very young, if 
conscientiously pursued, is no slight one. Matters of fact must 
be stated in a way to catch the attention, judgments upon them 
must be candid as well as sound. We cannot quite approve of 
his treatment of the period before the Revolutionary War, but 
we think, with the exception of a gratuitously offensive estimate 
of the character of the unfortunate James II., he has shown, upon 
the whole, a desire to be impartial, but has not quite succeeded. 
The reference to religious liberty in Maryland before it was 
dreamt of anywhere else is cold. Of course we could hardly 
expect the views on the conflicts between the early settlers and 
the Indians would be quite just. Unconsciously men think that 
savage races have no rights against civilized spoilers ; they would 
deny that they think so, but the notion is an unconscious pre- 
mise governing their views. The illustrations throughout the 
little work are helpful. 

Marion J. Brunowe's daintily bound brochure, A Famous Con- 
vent School, published by the Meany Co., New York, has escaped 
our previous mention. It is impossible within the necessary 
limitations of the history of such an institution to do more 
than shadow forth the spirit which has endeared Mount St. 
Vincent to so many noble women of our day. But we are glad 
to know that the merest summary of names and events which 
cluster around this foundation will, by that subtle law of asso- 
ciation which is even more powerful for good than for evil, 
bring a breath of mental and moral fresh air into the crowded 
lives of many who owe to the teaching there received the pur- 
pose and the hope, the "faith in something and enthusiasm for 
something," which has made them "worth looking at." 

* New York : American Book Company. 
VOL. LXVI. 18 



The Eiicharistic Christ* by Rev. A. Tesniere, priest of the 
Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, has been admirably 
translated by Mrs. Anne R. Bennett-Gladstone. It is impossi 
ble to praise too highly this work, in which we have a history 
of the foundation and progress of the congregation of priests 
formed by Father Eymard for diffusing and maintaining an 
intelligent devotion to this sublime mystery. As one would 
expect, the advancement of the society in the thirty years 
since it was founded is marvellous. There are two branches 
in the institute, the Confraternity of Priest-Adorers and the 
Aggregation of Lay-Adorers. The first have the duty of spend- 
ing at least an hour weekly in adoration before the Blessed 
Sacrament, that they may draw that fervor which should be 
manifested in their works of zeal. The members of the Aggre- 
gation of Lay-Adorers spend one hour monthly in adoration. 

The book before us is the first of the many works pub- 
lished in the interest of the confraternity that has been trans- 
lated into English. As we have said, it has been well done. 
The Introduction contains practical considerations upon the 
adoration of the Most Holy Sacrament, divided under headings 
that express various relations of the devotion with a depth 
and beauty which reveal Father Tesniere's spiritual insight 
with remarkable clearness. In this part we have his interpreter 
rendering him into clear and forcible English. The first relation 
we meet with is that to our Lord Himself, the next is that of 
the adoration in relation to ourselves, and the third in rela- 
tion to our neighbor. These relations form the first part of 
the Introduction, and we next have the second part, which 
tells the method of adoration by means of the four ends of the 
Sacrifice. Under the title " The Object and the End of the 
Adoration," these practical considerations are grouped ; so we 
possess at once a logical relation of the divisions, both to the 
Lord Himself and to mankind, beautifully illustrating .the great 
truth that the operations of God in the supernatural order are 
parallel with his operations in the moral and physical orders. 

The conception of self-effacement on which the Congrega- 
tion is framed may have been the idea which caused Pius IX. 
of happy memory to say in answer to the founder's petition, 
" I am convinced that this thought comes from God. The 
church has need of it. Let every means be taken to spread 
a knowledge of the Holy Eucharist." The priests who consti- 

* New York : Benziger Brothers. 


tute the Society of the Blessed Sacrament enter it to immo- 
late their personality to the service of the Lord, to procure for 
him the greatest possible glory by the homage of a love, says 
Father Eymard, " which will reach as readily to the heroism 
of sacrifice as to the simplest and most natural act of duty." 
That is, the priest does not become a member of the society 
"in order to become virtuous." But this language, though 
strange, means that if he did so, he himself would be the first 
object of his service. It is not to obtain a higher glory in 
heaven that he joins it, but that the praise and merit shall go 
to his Master. As Father Eymard finely says: "The soldier 
gains the victory and dies ; the king alone triumphs and obtains 
the glory." This is the spirit of the association, a protest 
against the materialism of the age, against the ambition which 
is found even in religious bodies a spirit tender, strong, brave, 
and loyal as the spirit of the Ages of Faith. 


The issuing of two interesting and practical explanations of 
the Commandments indicates a demand for more minute direc- 
tions in regard to conduct. The enlightened conscience requires 
minute specifications in regard to its duties. In daily life, no 
matter in what sphere one moves, whether it be simply in the 
limited round of home duties or out in the activities of the 
business world, numerous questions arise almost every hour in 
regard to the proper thing to do. These questions are not 
merely questions of etiquette, but deep ethical questions of 
right and wrong, often involving the observance of grave obli- 
gations. A tender conscience, unless it be enlightened and be 
quick in its decisions, will often be worried as to what to do. A 
demand for more minute instruction on the practical rules of 
life indicates a development of conscience that is one of the 
most hopeful signs of the future. 

We have had no complete manuals of moral theology in 
English, and the explanation of ethical principles has been left 
very largely to the pulpit. It is quite true that the clergy are 
becoming more and more alive to the fact that the spiritual 
food the people crave is not given to them in the grand ser- 

* The Commandments Explained, according to the Teaching and Doctrine of the Catholic 
Church. By Rev. Arthur Devine, Passionist, author of The Creed Explained, Convent Life, 
etc. Illustrated Explanation of the Commandments. A thorough Exposition of the Com- 
mandments of God and of the Church. Adapted from the original of H. Rolfus, D.D. With 
numerous examples from Scripture, the Holy Fathers, etc., and a Practice and Reflection on 
each Commandment, by Very Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. With full-page illustrations. New 
York : Benziger Brothers. 


mon after the French method, but rather in homely catechetical 
instructions where the explanation of conduct can be entered 
into discreetly and thoroughly. Father Devine's book is the 
more complete of these two volumes, and therefore the more 
valuable. Certainly it is such for priests, and we scarcely see 
how a priest who does a great deal of catechetical instruction 
on moral duties can be without some such exhaustive manual 
in the vernacular, and at the same time one so eminently up 
to date and practical that it quotes as authorities the latest in- 
structions to bishops and discusses such modern questions as 
hypnotism and the many difficult problems of justice created 
by our modern life. 

While Father Devine's book is written for the laity as well 
as the clergy, Father Girardey's seems to have the people prin- 
cipally in view, and as a popular manual is of special value. 


In the face of the open irreligion that characterizes the 
lives of many in this country the observance of the Sunday 
has become more than merely the keeping of the law of the 
church ; it amounts very often to a practical profession of one's 
faith. Where the Sunday is observed with strictness, opportu- 
nity is given for the fostering of the religious sentiment. This 
strictness, however, must be a rational strictness, coming from 
a true understanding of the nature of Sunday, the character of 
the day, and whence the obligation arises. No other question 
of practical ethics, the temperance question perchance excepted, 
has been placed before the American public with more diverse 
interpretations than the observance of Sunday. And because 
the setting aside of one day in seven for the worship of God 
is so eminently practical, a correct understanding of the obli- 
gation of the observance of Sunday is exceedingly important. 
Father Roche's little book is a handy manual, vouched for 
in its theological accuracy by Father Dissez, of St. Mary's 
Seminary, Baltimore. 


A unique book in the way of a religious biography is the 
Story of Mary Aikenhead. 

Time was when one of the commonest objections to the 

* The Obligation of Hearing Mass on Sundays and Holydays. By Rev. J. T. Roche, au- 
thor of Month of St. Joseph for People in the World. Baltimore, Md. : John Murphy & Co. 

t The Story of Mary Aikenhead, Foundress of the Irish Sisters of Charity. By Maria 
Nethercott. New York : Benziger Brothers. 

1 897.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 277 

reading of the lives of saints and holy people was, that they 
were too dry and that there was too much of a sameness 
about them. Catholic biographers of saints' lives in these days, 
however, can no longer have such a criticism made upon their 
work. There is a naturalness and genuineness about their 
books now that make the reading of them far more pleasing 
than that of the unrealities of fiction and romance. 

This little book of Maria Nethercott's is a bright specimen 
of its kind. Her story of a very holy "and useful life is told 
with charming freshness of style and fascination of description. 

Mary Aikenhead's life was spent in Ireland, during the 
period when the fierce oppression of the penal days had 
dwindled down to the petty persecutions and annoying, trivial 
harassments of Protestant prejudice and hatred of things 
Catholic. She was brought up in the midst of this in her 
native town of Cork, but was able to rise above it and escape 
unharmed from its influence only by the sterling qualities of 
her nature assisted by grace. According to the custom of her 
time, she was placed as an infant in charge of a peasant 
woman, and allowed to grow up with her until her sixth year. 
It was due to this early training that she was a Catholic, for 
her father, a doctor of some repute in that part of the coun- 
try, belonged to the Established Church. Mary's nurse had 
her surreptitiously baptized a Catholic in her infancy, and in- 
stilled the early lessons of her religion into her young mind 
so deeply that in her eighteenth year, in spite of the powerful 
influences of her Protestant relatives, Mary's inward conviction 
of the truth of these early teachings asserted itself and she 
sought of her own accord admission into the church and 
was confirmed a Catholic. Her life from this time on is a 
sweet story of womanly virtue and heroism. She felt attracted 
to the religious life, but could not find sufficient active charity 
in the orders then existing in Ireland to satisfy her desires. 
The idea of establishing the daughters of St. Vincent de Paul, 
to supply such a need of helping the poor and the sick as 
she recognized, grew up in her own mind and in that of the 
good Bishop of Cork, Dr. Moylan, almost simultaneously, and 
it needed but a favorable opportunity to bring it to fruition. 
It was not Mary's choice, however, that made her the organizer 
of such a plan, but it was due to the express wish of the 
bishop that a foundation was actually begun and successfully 
carried on within a short time. 

Her life as a foundress and a superior is a delightful story, 
so much of her native charm and versatility shows through it 


under all the deep religiousness a religiousness that never 
verged into mere cant or sentimentality. " Those who did 
careless or stupid things, with the idea that they were cultivat- 
ing piety, were her special aversion," says her biographer. 
" ' We want young women who have sense and know how to 
use it/ she used to say. ' I don't like people who always 
look down/ she said on one occasion to a lay sister who had 
charge of the halls and parlors. ' Look up, child/ pointing to 
the ceiling, from which a large cobweb hung. 'And now, my 
child/ added the reverend mother, 'if you looked up more to 
the heavens, you would do your work in a more perfect way 
for God.' ' The quick, witty sally of the Irish tongue was never 
wanting in her as a medium of giving an advice or administer- 
ing a reproof which might under other language have contained 
a sting. " You would carry a doctor about in one pocket and 
a priest in another," she said once to a fussy, nervous sister 
whom she wished to reprove for over-anxiety and worry about 
her patients. 

An interesting fact about the life of these first Sisters of 
Charity in Ireland is that among their number was the sister 
o'f Gerald Griffin, who was, it is said, the occasion of his 
world-famed poem on " The Sister of Charity." 


Father McGowan, while stationed at St. Augustine's Church, 
Philadelphia, attained quite a reputation as a preacher. For 
this reason we are led naturally to expect in these two 
volumes a very choice selection of sermon matter. The trans- 
lated sermons are from Billot, Perrin, and St. Thomas of 
Villanova, and many of the clergy will esteem it no small advan- 
tage to have the best discourses of such masters of pulpit 
eloquence put in near-at-hand volumes so they may be adapted 
to present-day needs. 

The best sermon books are not the ones which contain 
sermons that are completely and rhetorically written out from 
text to peroration, but rather the ones which are suggestive of 
ideas and provocative of thought. The luminous sermons of 
the masters or the deep discourses of the saints are the ones 
which will be most thoroughly studied as models, and most 
generally used as aids to practical preaching. 

* Sermons for the Holy days and Feasts of Our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, and the Saints. 
With Discourses for Particular Devotions, and a Short Retreat for a Young Men's Sodality. 
Edited, and in part written, by Rev. Francis X. McGowan, O.S.A. 2 vols. New York and 
Cincinnati : Fr. Pustet. 

THE investiture of Monsignor Conaty, Rector 
of the Catholic University, with the dignity and 
title of Domestic Prelate of the Papal Household, 
is a new mark of the Holy Father's interest in the work of 
the University, and a distinct approbation of the character of 
Dr. Conaty's priestly work. Had Dr. Conaty been merely a 
time-server or a dinner-giver or a sail-trimmer, he would have 
been unworthy of his distinguished position ; but he was a man 
of principle, doing the right as he conceived it, and courageous 
in following out a positive policy which he had defined for 
himself. Because of this he grew in moral and intellectual sta- 
ture, and when a man was needed to fill an important place 
he was the unanimous choice. His future successes as Rector 
of the University wil further demonstrate the wisdom of his 

All who have had any experience in teaching catechism 
strongly urge the revision of the present hastily prepared and 
too quickly approved manual for use in Sunday-schools. A 
model catechism should be simple, adapted to the minds of 
children, logical, so that it may expand into larger manuals 
and still retain its unbroken symmetry. It should, moreover, be 
profuse in its use of and reference to Scripture texts. 

It has been said that the astutest enemy of , the church is 
not the one who vilifies her, but the one who ignores her. 
This was strikingly manifested at the St. Augustine celebration 
at Ebbs-Fleet, in England. The reporter, with pencil and note- 
book in hand, was notably in evidence at the celebration, but 
there was scarcely anything published. It would be too strong 
an argument in favor of the Roman origin of the Anglican 
Church to put such an event too plainly before the people. 
The shrewder policy was to ignore, hence the waste-basket and 
not the public got the accounts. 

The Rosary is the greatest missionary weapon. The Holy 
Father, with a persistency born of an unbounded conviction in 


its efficacy, again urges us to make use of it. To prayer, as 
well as to missionary zeal, is due the wonderful success attained 
by the non-Catholic mission movement in this country. Bishop 
Maes, in a late pastoral, places the number of conversions from 
Protestantism to the church in this country at 7co,cco, and 
Cardinal Gibbons estimates the yearly influx at 30,000. The 
Rosary is doing its work among modern irreligionists as effectu- 
ally as it did among the ancient Albigensians. 

Among other things, the Fribourg Scientific Congress 
affirmed the need of a reverent freedom in scientific research. 
The following statement from the Coadjutor Bishop of Cologne 
was the key-note of the gathering. He claimed for the mem- 
bers " freedom in scientific research, freedom to lift questions 
of every sort out of the ruts and sift them, yet along with this 
freedom proper respect for the authority of the church, which 
is no hindrance, but rather a safeguard, to liberty." This 
claim was literally interpreted, showing that Catholic scientific 
men understand thoroughly their liberty in scientific matters. 
In this is found the best answer to the statements of the 

There seems to be a general stirring among church-workers 
in regard to organizations for boys. Father Heffernan sounded 
the note of awakening by his article on "Our Boys" in the 
August number of this magazine. The article attracted a great 
deal of attention. 

The Messenger of the Sacred Heart is now adding a new de- 
partment, which will be edited exclusively in the interest of 
boys, and the National Temperance organization, as the result 
of the deliberations of the Convention at Scranton last sum- 
mer, is organizing Juvenile Total Abstinence societies through- 
out various dioceses. There is no movement which has in it 
so much hope for the future as this one. 

1897.] LIVING C A 7' HO LIC AUTHORS. 281 



JOHN JEROME ROONEY is one of the more brilliant of our 
young American writers, gifted to an unusual degree with both 
the poetic fire and a high literary taste. He was born thirty- 
two years ago in Binghamton, N. Y., but his early home life 
was associated with the Quaker City on the Delaware. His 
father dying while he was quite young, his education was di 
rected by his uncle, Bishop Shanahan, of Harrisburg. At the 
age of twelve he was sent to Mount St. Mary's College and 
there grew up amid healthful surroundings and in a scholarly 
atmosphere. Though naturally very bright, he did not disdain to 
perfect his talents by assiduity to study. He won many class 
honors, including the Dr. McSweeny Special Gold Prize for 

Still his particular aptitude was for poetry and literary pur- 
suits, and he did not a little in this line while at college, and after 
he was graduated he accepted a position on the staff of the 
Philadelphia Record* and for five years did newspaper work of 
all kinds. He is now at the head of a large customs broker- 
age in New York. 

Though the exactions of business life in New York are 
severe, yet Mr. Rooney has found time to cultivate the muse, and 
has contributed to our leading periodicals many stirring poems 
as occasion has called them forth, and not only is it the patriotic 
sentiment that inspires his genius, but the sweet, the quiet, 
the beautiful in nature and art have stirred his heart and given 
being to some of his best poems. 

Mr. Rooney is content to wait till the passing years bring 
their ripest fruit before he publishes in collected form his many 
fugitive verses. Still, what he has already done has brought 
to him an enviable name and a literary reputation that any 
young man might well be proud of. 

Miss J. GERTRUDE MENARD is a resident of Woburn, Mass., 
in which town she was born and received her education. Her 
early literary attempts were, like so many youthful writers, in 
the poetic strain, her first production appearing when she was 
a school-girl in the Boston Weekly Traveller, then a paper of 




high literary standing, its literary department being under the 
supervision of Miss Lillian Whiting. Since then she has writ- 
ten prose stories and sketches for numerous magazines and 
papers, and was connected for a time with a daily local publi- 

Miss Menard is of Irish and Canadian parentage, her father 
being a native of the picturesque town of Chambly Basin, 
P. Q. Frequent visits to Canada interested her in the country, 
and perhaps her best work has been her stories and descrip- 
tions of this northern land. 

In conjunction with her sister, who has become known as 

a musical composer, she 
published some time ago 
a little book of songs for 
kindergarten schools, and 
has also written the 
words of several songs 
which have been set to 
music by the same lady, 
and which are produced 
by the Boston house of 
Oliver Ditson & Co. 

Miss Menard is one 
of the contributors to 
the volume called Im- 
mortelles of Catholic Col- 
umbian Literature recent- 
ly published by Mother 
M. Seraphine, of the or- 
der of Ursuline Nuns of 
New York City, in which appear a poem entitled " The Bells 
of St. Anne " and a sketch descriptive of a Canadian market- 
day. She is still engaged in literary pursuits, is a member of 
the New England Woman's Press Association, and looks for- 
ward to the future for the realization of higher aims in her 
chosen field of work. 


MARGARET M. HALVEY is of Irish birth, though her best 
work has been done in this country. She now claims Philadel- 
phia as her home and the sphere of her labors. 

Her mother took care of her early education, and, unlike 
so many others who are permitted to drop into the great 
modern educational machine to be turned out a manufactured 

1 897.] 



and labelled mediocrity, she was trained in particular lines and 
her literary talents developed. At a singularly early age she 
developed a taste for rhyming, and these early effusions found 
their way into print ; but later on in life she utilized these 
talents to some purpose by penning some stirring national 
poems which breathe all the traditional Irish hatred of English 

Her work apart from its literary side has been largely so- 
cialistic in the best sense the 
development of the home idea ^ 

among the laboring classes, the ^ ^ 
amelioration of the condition of 
the masses. In furtherance of j 
these purposes she accepted a ^ 
place on the Board of Lady 
Managers of the World's Colum- I 
bian Exhibition for the State of 
Pennsylvania, and was enabled \ 
to place before the public many 
excellent models which did not 
a little to uplift standards. The 
Philadelphia Working-mans Home 
at - the World's Fair was her sug- 
gestion, and as an object lesson of 
thrift, economy, industry, seclu- 
sion, and privacy of home life, as opposed to the paying rents, 
owning nothing, and casting aside of home virtue system of 
the modern great city, it had a wonderfully powerful effect on 
the visiting throngs. 

Mrs. Halvey does not permit her able pen to be inactive. 
Amid the cares of a busy life she is constantly publishing, and 
much of her work ranks very high from a literary point of 




THE Champlain Assembly has given inspiration to many progressive ideas, but 
none seems to offer greater scope of activity than the latest plan of forming 
an Alumna? Auxiliary Association. 

Friends of the Summer-School, realizing the interest taken in it by the Catho- 
lic Women of America, felt that the proverb " In unity there is strength" could 
find a most powerful application among them. During the last week of the recent 
session the announcement was made that there would be a meeting of all those 
interested in the inauguration of such an association. The number that respond- 
ed to the invitation was most encouraging. 

Rev. M. J. Lavelle, President of the Summer-School, presided and stated the 
object of the organization. Rev. Thomas McMillan, Chairman of the Board of 
Studies, and Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy, of Altoona, Pa., assured those present of 
their co-operation in such a movement. Miss K. G. Broderick, of New York 
City, Miss Cronyn, of Buffalo, and many others also gave assurance of their hearty 
support. Mr. W. E. Mosher, of Youngstown, O., showed the practical way by 
which the association could be an auxiliary to the work. He suggested that the 
funds raised be devoted to the endowment of lecture courses to be given annual- 
ly at Cliff Haven, the home of the Summer-School. This suggestion met the 
approval of all. Rev. J. P. Kiernan, of Rochester, voiced the sentiment of those 
present by his enthusiastic address in favor of Mr. Mosher's plan. 

A committee was at once appointed to draw up a short constitution. The 
following were appointed on this committee : 

Miss Helena T. Goessmann, Amherst, Mass.; Miss Elizabeth Cronyn, Buf- 
falo ; Miss Olivia J. Hall, New York City ; Miss Agnes Wallace, New York City ; 
Miss Fannie Lynch, New Haven, Conn.; Miss Gertrude Mclntyre, Philadelphia. 
At the next meeting the committee submitted the following report for adoption 

Resolved: i. That the Alumnae Auxiliary Association of the Catholic Sum- 
mer-School of America be composed of the graduates of convent schools, col- 
leges, academies, high and normal schools ; also all professional teachers, and 
such persons as the Executive Board shall approve. 

2. That the initiation fee be one dollar. This fee to form the basis of a fund 
for the endowment of chairs at the Champlain Summer-School. 

3. That the yearly dues be fifty cents. 

4. That there be six officers: a president, three vice-presidents, a general 
secretary, and a treasurer. Also, that there be for the current year seven direc- 
tors. All to form a body to be known as the Executive Board of the Alumnae 
Auxiliary Association. 

5. That the Board of Officers and Directors meet twice a year : the last week 
of December, and at Cliff Haven during the first week of August. 

Letters inviting the co-operation of those interested in Catholic education 
are shortly to be issued, and delegates have been appointed in various cities 
whose duty it will be to further the object of the association. Application for 
membership or for further information should be addressed to the secretary, Miss 
Mary Burke, Ozanam Reading Circle, 415 West 59th Street, New York City, 
or to the treasurer, Miss Gertrude Mclntyre, 1811 Thompson Street, Philadel- 
phia, Pa. 


The officers elected were as follows: Moderator, Rev. James P. Kiernan, 
Rochester, N. Y. ; President, Miss Helena T. Goessmann, Amherst, Mass. ; 
ist Vice-President, Miss Elizabeth Cronyn, Buffalo, N. Y. ; 2d Vice-President, 
Miss Ella McMahon, Boston, Mass.; 3d Vice-President, Miss Mary Rourke, New 
York City ; Secretary, Miss Mary Burke, New York City ; Treasurer, Miss 
Gertrude Mclntyre, Philadelphia, Pa. Directors Miss Agnes Wallace, New 
York City; Mrs. C. H. Bonesteel, Pittsburgh, N. Y. ; Miss Cecilia Yawman, 
Rochester, N. Y. ; Miss Anna Murray, New York City; Miss Mary C. .Clare, 
Philadelphia, Pa.; Miss Anna Mitchell, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Miss Fannie Lynch, 
New Haven, Conn. 

* * * 

The adjourned annual meeting of the trustees of the Champlain Summer- 
School was held on Thursday, September 23, in the board-room of the Catholic 

The reports of the session were all presented and discussed. It was found 
that the results of this year had been satisfactory in every way, except that the 
finances are not yet in perfect condition. It is necessary to devise some plan 
which will provide revenue sufficient to pay all the current expenses of each year. 
When this has been accomplished, the work of constructing, so to speak, the 
Summer-School will be at an end. The general interest is now well aroused, 
the attendance is secure, and the comfort of the people is also well provided for. 

The president's report was received with marked attention, and its provisions 
and recommendations were unanimously agreed to. Monsignor Conaty and 
Major Byrne were appointed a committee to devise, in conjunction with the chair, 
the financial scheme which will complete the work of organization. 

The officers for the ensuing year are : The Rev. M. J. Lavelle, President ; the 
Rev. T. F. Loughlin, Vice-President ; Major John Byrne, Second Vice-President ; 
Warren E. Mosher, Secretary; the Rev. John F. Mullany, Treasurer. 

The president strongly urged the plan of getting members in large numbers 
who would agree to pay ten dollars annually in advance for a ticket that would 
entitle the holder to attend the entire course of lectures at the session of 1898. 
By payment of this money at once the friends of the Summer-School could re- 
move the anxiety regarding the financial problem. 

* * * 

Even during her vacation-time Mrs. Margaret F. Sullivan felt obliged to 
assist in spreading correct information. Her rank in journalism is second to none 
in the broad and accurate range of her knowledge. In the following letter, sent to 
the New York Sun, she mentions some topics that might be profitably discussed 
at length by members of Reading Circles : 

A Washington telegram announced recently that ground would soon be 
broken near the Roman Catholic University, Washington, for the first Catholic 
college for women. It is to be managed by the Sisters of Notre Dame, under the 
auspices of the univef sity. The first building will accommodate one hundred board- 
ers. Students must be at least eighteen years of age and have completed an 
academic course. They will be required to present satisfactory evidence of good 
character and good health. The new institution is to be known as Trinity Col- 
lege, and it will be opened, it is said, next year. 

" This departure," runs the dispatch, " from the usual conservative methods 
of Roman Catholic education is expected to cause unfavorable comment in some 
quarters." In what quarters ? Why speak of the new Trinity College as " a de- 
parture from conservative methods of Roman Catholic education ? " Is that " a 


departure " which is a return to the rule under the church in Italy from the thir- 
teenth century until the universities ceased to be in its exclusive control ? 

It is a common error to suppose that the comparatively recent opening of 
some universities to women is a nineteenth century innovation. Mrs. Browning 
writes in " Aurora Leigh " : 

" In the first onrush of life's chariot wheels 
We know not if the forests move or we." 

Sdme years ago I had the honor to write for THE CATHOLIC WORLD magazine 
a sketch of the higher opportunities afforded women in earlier times in older coun- 
tries than ours. Subsequently there appeared elsewhere a circumstantial account 
of learned women of Bologna, by an Italian writer, who recited with consider- 
able fulness the story of women's connection with the departments of law, science, 
medicine, and philosophy in that ancient and famous university, prior and subse- 
quent to the Reformation. It would give me great pleasure to quote particularly 
the picturesque description of the dazzling scene of the public crowning of Laura 
Bassi, when the degree of doctor of laws was conferred upon her by the ecclesi- 
astical and civic authorities after she had completed the customary examinations 
and withstood the severest tests. The citizens combined with the university gov- 
ernment to render the occasion one of beauty and splendor heightened by south- 
ern enthusiasm. The after- career of Laura Bassi, Doctor of Laws, is not of a 
kind to make the conservative timid about the domestic effects of the higher edu- 
cation of women. Nor was Bologna the only university city of the middle ages 
to confer degrees upon women. Shakspere's Portia need not be deemed merely 
the figment of a poet's imagination. It would be easy to cite testimony ; but I 
am writing away from home, at a sea-shore summer village, without access to 
books or other materials, relying on unaided memory for a few suggestive refer- 

A correct clue to learned women of Bologna may be found in Poole's Index 
to Periodical Literature, under " Women in the Middle Ages." Copious informa- 
tion against the idea that the new Trinity College is " a departure " is presented 
in Christian Schools and Scholars, by Mother Drane, of Stone, Staffordshire, Eng- 
land. The French historian and critic, Demogeot, in his estimate of Italian 
literature, is another witness to the breadth of women's education under, the con- 
servative methods of the church in mediseval Italy. 

The life, education, aims, and precepts of venerable Spphie Madeleine Barat, 
of France, foundress of the Community of the Sacred Heart, refute the error that 
the New Trinity College is " a departure " from conservative Catholic ideas. 

Those ideas were superbly set forth by Sir Thomas More, when he employed 
the eminent Dutch classical scholar, Erasmus, to teach in his household, the mem- 
bers thereof and some companions of both sexes receiving identical instruction. 
How great the contrast between the unnatural conduct of the untaught daughters 
of John Milton, the flower of Puritanism, and the noble womanliness of the thor- 
oughly taught daughter of the martyred chancellor ! 

A number of the collegiate foundations at Oxford and Cambridge were made 
by Englishwomen of wealth, who were at least passively accessory to the exclu- 
sion of women from the universities of England when those of Italy were freely 
opened to all qualified candidates. Victoria, regina, imperatrix, for sixty years 
has reigned, but Parliament has governed. As abolition of sect-tests for admis- 
sion to the universities is one of the parliamentary glories of her era, thanks chiefly 
to Mr. Gladstone ; a word from her lips at this supreme hour would insert aboli- 
tion of sex-tests in the statutes of the realm as a monumental jewel of the dia- 


mond jubilee, assuring her in history a sovereign distinction above any belonging 
to her queenly predecessors. 

Judging by the cogent and lucid contribution by his Eminence Cardinal 
Gibbons, in the Century Magazine several years ago, on the subject of women 
physicians, we ought to expect the early opening of a medical department in the 
new Trinity, which, in all its departments, will be cordially and effectually sup- 
ported by the American hierarchy and clergy, a collective body whose renown for 
aspiration and achievement is coextensive with 'civilization in the Old as in the 
New World. 

That body has devoted itself hitherto, with the co-operation of thousands of 
trained men and women, a heroic army of voluntary teachers, mainly to the in- 
dispensable for the many primary and secondary instruction, waiting in forti- 
tude and hope for the means and the time to arrive for higher education, which, 
in all countries, in every age, has necessarily been the privilege of the compara- 
tively few. Fortunately for all, Gwendolen Caldwell, foundress of the Catholic 
University of America, has not perpetuated an English precedent on American 
soil. The new Trinity will inspire and reward the magnificent work being done 
all over the country by numerous admirable conventual academies. 

In affiliating a woman's college the Catholic University of America, founded 
by a woman, commits no " departure." It restores the too-long suspended rights 
of Catholic women, according to the ancient ideals and the most conservative and 
authentic standard. The new Trinity only emphasizes a trend approved by ex- 
perience and sanctioned by the most advanced thought in higher education in all 
advancing countries that academic and collegiate training for youth should be 
-co-ordinate, but, for greater convenience and prudence, in separate institutions, 
when so preferred by parents ; and that university privileges, honors and emolu- 
ment, direct and indirect, should be open/in secular culture, to men and women 
on equal conditions. 

Women will continue to go to Vassar, to Barnard, to Radcliffe, to the various 
State colleges open to them, as they will commence next year to go to the new 
Trinity ; but the university to be approved by the head and heart of the future 
will be of the type of one of the oldest, Bologna, and of the youngest young but 
.already valiant Chicago, whose President, Dr. William R. Harper, has said to 
.me that he will never consent to a rule discriminating prejudicially between men 
and women in its administration. 

May the new Trinity flourish from its birth, and add another to the glories of 
jour country ! * * * 


WHEN it is stated (see page 155, line 24) that we decline to accept Baluze 
as an untainted witness, it is meant that we decline to accept him on the recom- 
mendation of Dr. Benson. The inference might be that we regard him as a dis- 
honest witness in the -same sense as Sarpi. That we do not ; nor is such a view 
necessary to our argument. The learning of Baluze cannot be questioned, but 
he has not always used his learning with discretion. The History of the House 
of Auvergne maintains a principle which an educated Englishman could hardly 
accept, having regard to important legislation at an early period of English his- 
tory. In this work Baluze argues that a king de facto, and most probably de 
jure, as Louis XIV. was, has no title to the allegiance of a subject who may be 
a pretender de jure to the throne.' 

288 NEW BOOKS. [Nov., 1897. 



The Little Path to Heaven. A prayer-book with very large print. Our 
Favorite Novenas. A companion volume to Our Favorite Devotions. By 
Very Rev. Dean A. A. Ling's. The Little Child of Mary. A complete 
little prayer-book. Letters on True Politeness. A little Treatise ad- 
dressed to Religious. By the Abbe Demore. From the French by a Visi- 
tandine of Baltimore. Mission Book for the Married. By Very Rev. 
Ferreol Girardey, C.SS.R. Mission Book for the Single. By Very Rev. 
Ferreol Girardey, C.SS.R. That Football Game, and What Came of It. 
By F. J. Finn, S.J. Illustrated Prayer-Book for Children. With many 
fine half-tone illustrations. The Gospel of St. 'John. With notes, critical 
and explanatory. By Rev. Joseph MacRory, D.D., Professor of Sacred 
Scripture and Hebrew, Maynooth College. The Commandments Ex- 
plained. By Rev. Arthur Devine, C.P. In the Days of Good Queen Bess. 
By Robert Haynes Cave. The Story of Mary Aikenhead. By Maria 


Varia. By Agnes Repplier. 
CATHOLIC BOOK EXCHANGE, 120 West 6oth Street, New York : 

Saint Wilfrid, Archbishop of York. By A. Streeter. With Introductory 

Essay by Rev. Luke Rivington, D.D. (Catholic Truth Society.) 
D. H. McBRiDE & Co., Chicago, Akron, and New York: 

Tales of Good Fortune. Adapted from Canon Schmid by Rev. Thomas J. 


The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents. The original French, Latin, 
and Italian Texts, with English translations and notes ; illustrated by por- 
traits, maps, and fac-similes. Edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites. Vol. 
VIII., 1634-1636. 
MACMILLAN COMPANY, London and New York: 

A Political Primer of New York State and City. By Adele M. Field. Cou- 
sin Betty. By H. de Balzac. Translated by Clara Bell, with preface by 
George Saintsbury. 

St. Ives. By Robert Louis Stevenson. 
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY, New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : 

Gems of School Song. By Carl Betz. 'Round the Year in Myth and Song. 

By Florence Holbrook. 

Darwin and after Darwin. By the late George Romanes, M.A., LL.D., 

SILVER, BURDETT & Co., New York, Boston, and Chicago : 

The Plant Baby and Its Friends. By Kate Louise Brown. 
LONGMANS, GREEN & Co., New York: 

The Water of the Wondrous Isles. By William Morris. 

Cyparissus : A Romance of the Isles of Greece. By Ernst Eckstein. Trans- 
lated from the German by Mary J. Safford. 

Tenth Annual Report Commissioner of Labor. Vols I. and II. Eleventh 
Annual Report Commissioner of Labor. Eighth Special Report Commis- 
sioner of Labor. Fifteenth Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology. Six- 
teenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology to the Secre- 
tary of the Smithsonian Institution, 1894-95. By I. W. Powell, Director. 




DECEMBER, 1897. 

No. 393. 



IIMES were hard in the parish 
qf St. Dunstan's. Perhaps the 
statement is superfluous, for 
times were never easy there, and the 
very mention of the parish was enough 
to call forth a groan of sympathy for 
its pastor from his brothers in the dio- 
cese. Hence it was not a place much 
sought for by candidates for vacant par- 
ishes, and when the bishop sent young 
Father Francis there, just after his ordi- 
nation, he had plenty to pity but none to 
envy him. 

St. Dunstan's lay at the poorest end 
of a small town made up of manufac- 
tories and their workmen's houses, ex- 
cept the few better places at the west 
end of the town where the superintendents' and owners' 
families lived. There was never quite enough to eat in these 
little houses huddled together, for there was an average of at 
least five children in each of them, and money was scarce, 
and saloons plenty where the poor, tired, dull men found 
the only pleasure they knew in forgetting the hard day by the 
help of fiery adulterations of bad whisky. They were a mus- 


VOL. LXVI. -19 


cular, brawny, hopeless lot, begrimed by the iron and the 
smoke of the furnaces, made up of various nationalities, 
with a preponderance of the Irish, whose native fun was 
nearly eliminated by the conditions of their lives. And it 
was into such a parish that Father Francis came, a slender, 
pale youth of twenty-three, with deep-set, fervent eyes, and 
such an experience of men and life as a guarded boyhood and 
study in the seminary would be likely to give him. 

The women listened to his sermons, clasping pale babies to 
thin breasts, and looking up at him with patient eyes, whose 
sadness had been drawn from the gaunt breasts of their 
mothers before them, and they accepted his words, although 
not especially applicable to the needs of their lot, as good in 
themselves, and felt a vague, far-off desire to help him, born 
of the maternal instinct of their womanhood, and his youth, 
and a dim perception that he had much to learn. 

But the men gave scant attention to the boyish priest, and 
when he exhorted them to keep away from the saloon, dis- 
cussed his advice around the bar afterwards, smiling grimly at 
the impracticability of offering men the distant hope of heaven 
in exchange for the present bliss of the fiery stuff in their 
gnawing stomachs. 

But as time went on the young priest took on a dignity in 
their eyes apart from, and far more effectual than, the mere 
fact of his ordination. He was quick to learn, and quick to 
feel the tragic needs of their life, and he ceased to exhort 
them for very shame of the difference between his past and 
theirs, stung with the bitterness of the lot that had made them 
what they were from their cradle, and farther back still. He 
worked for them and with them, spending every penny of the 
little salary they gave him for them, reserving for himself 
barely enough to feed himself poorly, and going about among 
them with coat and shoes already, at the end of the first year, 
getting very glossy and white about the seams and rusty and 
cracked in the vamps. 

And with such garments thus worn he needed less to ex- 
hort, for the shabby coat preached for him ; and when he went 
in shoes yawning at the side to beg the men to help him estab- 
lish a coffee-house, where they could meet and substitute 
honest hot coffee for the foe to which they were delivering 
themselves, many responded, and the coffee-house was a success 
where every one predicted failure. 

Tender sympathy, love, and a ^thirst for their souls that 




made his people realize dimly for the first time what God 
might be this Father Francis showed to his flock, and his 
youth and delicate frame made him dearer to them, calling out 
a tenderness in the rough men and coarse-fibred women that 



supplemented their reverence, and perfected the relation be- 
tween them. 

" Father Francis " became a name to conjure by, even with 
the big Englishmen and Welshmen who were not Catholics 
and the castaways of St. Dunstan's who never entered the 
church ; and since his family name was also a familiar Christian 
name, nearly every child he baptized after he had been in the 
parish a year was called Francis, with only the variation in the 
last syllable required by differences of sex. 

"And Father Francis's a real gentleman born," the people 
would say proudly, till the oldest woman in the parish gave a 
more spiritual turn to their pride in him by saying : " Ay, that 
he is, of the rale nobility, for he's one of the saints of God." 

The chief mill of Pyritesville was owned by a man named 
Denhard, whose splendid house on the outskirts of the town 
was built of the sinews of men, and cemented by their blood. 
There were many hard, close employers in the district ; there 

292 CHRISTMAS A-T ST. DUN STAN' 's. [Dec., 

was none other with such a black record as Denhard's, whose 
name suffered appropriate and obvious profane corruptions on 
the lips of his men. 

It was Father Francis' second summer at St. Dunstan's, 
and it had been a hard one, although the warmth and 
nature's provision of fruits lightened the expenses of each 
household, and the mill had been running at full hours and 
with a heavy amount of work. But the amount of work was 
too great ; the mill was turning out more than could possibly 
be required, and those who thought shook their heads, foresee- 
ing one of " Denhard's dirty tricks." No warnings could get 
the majority of the men to provide for the troublous times thus 
predicted, for they spent as they went ; nor, indeed, at the best 
was there very much to lay by against a rainy day out of the 
wages of a man who had not less than seven mouths to fill 
and backs to clothe. 

In September came the fulfilment of the prophecies of the 
thoughtful. Wages were not reduced because the union stood 
between Denhard and that possibility, but the announcement 
was made that the mill would run but four days in the week, 
because it could not afford to do more owing to an over- 
stocked market. "Over-stocked Denhard!" said the knowing 
ones. " We told you. He worked us hard for five months at 
regular rates, and now he shuts down because he's got the 
stuff ahead to fill orders." But what was the use of talking? 
There was no redress for the misfortune ; the union could not 
interfere to make a man run his mill when he said that he 
could not afford it, and on the four days of the week which 
they worked the men were paid at schedule rates. But how 
could they live with two days' earnings cut off from their 
already scant means? That was the problem to be met, the 
solving of which fell heaviest on the patient women, whom the 
saloons did not help but rather fatally hindered. 

There was sullen endurance through the glorious days of 
October, debt rolling up while the mountains clothed them- 
selves in gold and crimson, and the leaves fell, making a 
Persian carpet under the heavy feet of the iron-workers. 

Matters had been going from bad to worse in the parish since 
late autumn had come, and the winds were blowing cold from 
the mountains, bringing scurries of snow with them. Thanks- 
giving brought very little gratitude to the hearts of the people 
of St. Dunstan's, looking in the face a long winter in a severe 
region, with no hope of better days till spring, and then such 


a load of debt incurred as would prevent the improvement 
affecting their condition. And Mr. Denhard's famjly went to 
Europe just before the end of November ; all but his crippled 
son, whom people said was .the one thing he loved, and who 
stayed with his father in the big house. 


Father Francis went about with a heavy hqart and anxious 
brow that took from him. the youthfulness as mere : years 
could not take it. He had had no experience with the troiubles 
among which he had been placed, but any one capable of re- 
flection could see that desperate men, to whom the present; was 
bitterly hard and the future more menacing still, could not be 
held in check, and he dared not speculate on the possible 
events of the winter. He redoubled his prayers and labor, and. 
he could not help knowing that his people loved him as they 
had never loved him before, for he passionately resented their 
wrongs; but he realized how impotent was human pity, and 
felt like a straw on the great ocean of human suffering and 
passion, struggling with the agony of youth in its first en- 
counter with the injustice it feels most keenly and > cannot 

The men began gathering in knots around the saloons and 
corners, and the air was full of muttered threats. Father Fran- 
cis went from one to another of these groups warning, implor-, 
ing. ' Don't strike, men ; for the love of your poor wives and 
babies, don't strike !" he begged. " You are helpless; Denhard 
has the whole thing in his own hands. He has worked up 


enough stock to last till spring, and he would rather shut down 
than not. And where would you be ? Half a loaf is better 
than none. As it is, you can* keep along; badly it is true, but 
somehow. But with no work you would have no credit, and 
you'd starve. Don't strike I pray you trust me, and don't 

The men listened respectfully, sullenly, tolerantly, according 
to their dispositions ; but they hated Denhard and they longed 
to get at him, and the only means they knew for this was to 
refuse to work for him. Their leader was a man who had a 
grudge of long standing against Denhard, and he was a fellow 
whose leadership was not won by fitness for the office, nor real 
sympathy with his comrades. He was a labor leader for what 
there was in it ; and just now there was before his eyes but 
his power to call out the men, and force Denhard to close or 
make terms. That these men were to be the sufferers in the 
plan was not a matter that he considered in the least. And so 
the strike was ordered, and three weeks before Christmas the 
poor fellows, wronged by their employer and by their own 
leader, went out, and the mill was declared closed. 

Denhard issued a sort of manifesto, in which he set forth 
the fact that he had fulfilled his contracts with the union and 
paid full wages, but that a man had an inalienable right to 
take care of his own interests. So, since he could not run his 
mill more than four days in the week without loss to himself, 
and was so well stocked that suspension was welcome to him, 
the mill would shut down until the men should see the folly 
of their position and beg for work on the old terms. 

Angry mutterings, swelling to open threats, hailed this dec- 
laration. Father Francis did his best to meet the cruel situa- 
tion which he had been powerless to avert. Even one week of 
idleness brought sharp suffering to. the families who had made 
no preparation for it, and to make it harder, the winter set in 
early with old-fashioned vigor and severity. 

It was known that there was no htfpe of Denhard's yielding, 
but that rather he had foreseen and desired this enforced idle- 
ness, and in many of the shops the men were refused a credit 
which would probably be too long to ever be discharged. 

In ten days' time the suffering became severe, though it was 
accompanied with the acts of beautiful self-sacrifice of the poor 
for one another and the selfish cruelty which such times 
always bring forth. 

Father Francis spent every cent he possessed fof food for 


his people, and when this was done, which did not take long, 
he pledged himself to discharge the debt if the grocer and 
butcher would give him the credit which they refused to the 
laborers. He got it, but his credit was limited, as was his sal- 
ary, and all that he could do was to lighten a very little the aw- 
ful gloom in the parish of St. Dunstan. 

Sickness came, and the babies died not many, for the chil- 
dren of the poor have a strong hold on life, but the weaker 
and, looking down on the little pinched, waxen faces, Father 
Francis thought the wiser died. Worse than this, pretty, 
flighty Nellie Byrnes, whom he had been trying to save from a 
flashy, prosperous admirer and her own love of ribbons, went 
away deliberately to the city, saying that she could not stand 
her father's barren home any longer. 

And Denhard drove in his big, fur-lined coat down to the 
station and through the town, stout, red-faced from over-dining, 
absolutely impervious to the agony around him. 

Father Francis' pale face grew grimmer at the sight, and he 
could hardly wonder at the muttered curses that followed Den- 
hard from the gaunt men on the corners. 

Thus the days dragged on, one like another, the situation 
unchanged except as every day heightened and accumulated 
the misery, and the men grew more restless under a burden 
too heavy to bear. 

Father Francis feared all sorts of nameless horrors, for he 
knew the people were getting desperate, and he knew that 
though justice was on their side, the power was all on the 

He seemed never to sleep ; all his moments and hours were 
spent among his people, and in the midst of their bitterness 
and torture they loved him with a love that knew no bounds. 

Two days before Christmas Father Francis commissioned 
some of the larger boys and girls to gather evergreens to trim 
the church, hoping in his aching heart that something of the 
sweetness of the feast might fall on the poor souls for whom 
Heaven and its peace toward earth were sorely hidden by the 
bad will of man. He saw the deepening gloom on the faces 
around him, caught the echo of menaces that frightened him, 
but he hoped against hope, never dreaming that the end was 
so near. 

It was Christmas eve, and the church was trimmed for the 
feast, and Father Francis rose from long and passionate prayer 
among the fragments of cedar heaped on the altar-steps, and 


gave a parting look around the plain and tasteful little church 
before he locked the door for the night. He stood a few mo- 
ments under the quiet stars, looking upward and wondering at 
their silent watchfulness of a world so full of wrong. He was 
too young not to feel that nature should show some pity for 
the life of man. 

The night was still, the air clear and cold. Every sound 
could be heard for long distances, and the young priest dis- 
tinctly heard the tramp of many feet going in the opposite 
direction. As he listened, in fear of he knew not what, one of 
his boys came toward him, running at top speed. 

" Oh, father, come ; mother sent me ! " he gasped. " Father 
and the men have gone to burn old Denhard's house. He's 
away and the cripple's there. She said you'd stop 'em!" 

Father Francis did not pause for hat; he wore his great- 
coat over his cassock, and gathering up the skirts, he ran with 
all his best speed, by a shorter and more direct way than the 
mob had taken, to the big house which they were to attack. 

He had been living on two meals a day during the trouble, 
and he feared his own weakness, but nerves did .more than 
muscles could have done, and the boy at his side had hard 
work to keep pace with him. 

He reached Denhard's house before the men, but, only a few 
moments before, and when the crowd came up the hill they 
halted an instant in amazement, for there on the steps, his 
pale face standing out in the moonlight, bare-headed and erect, 
stood their young priest facing -them. While they hesitated at 
the sight of him, he hastened to use the advantage their sur- 
prise gave him. 

" My men," he said, and his voice was strong and clear, 
"thank God I'm here to save you! Go back! * Vengeance is 
mine,' saith the Lord. Your cause is just ; you shall not spoil 
it by wrong. Trust me I would gladly die for you! No one 
could hurt you as you would have hurt yourselves had you 
done this thing." 

"We're going to make that devil sizzle for what he's done 
to us," spoke up a burly fellow at the front. "You go. away, 
Father Francis. You're a good man, and you're our friend, 
and we know- it; but you 're a priest, and we don't want any 
forgiveness in ours. We'll get a little square on our account. 
We couldn't pay him back, not if we was to cut him into inch 

A murmur of applause followed. Father Francis was quick 


to catch a clue, and he answered at once : " I'm not preaching 
forgiveness like a priest. I couldn't blame you if you weren't 
ready to see that side. But I'm talking to you as your best 
friend, a man who loves you, and I say don't make bad worse. 
Go back ! for you're bringing awful suffering on your children 
by this night's work." 

" We'll go back by the light of Denhard's house!" cried a 
voice in the crowd, and instantly a shout arose : " Burn it ! 
burn it! Kill the cripple in there! Take the priest away!" 

Father Francis stood firmly against the door, his white, 
boyish face outlined on the background of the dark wood. 
The torches, which had been lighted from hand to hand in the 
last few moments, blazed up illuming the brawny chests, the 
grim faces, the muscular arms of the men who held them, in 
sharp contrast to the frail, slender figure facing them alone. : 

Father Francis raised his hand, and even then his voice had 
power to make itself , heard. "I forbid you this sin," he said. 
"I command you to go back! I beg you to spare yourselves 
this new trouble. I love you, oh! my people; remember what 
night this is, and go back!" 

For a moment the men looked at one another as if they 
might yield, but a voice called out : " We're not all your people. 
Some of us bez no Catholics." 

" There's no Catholic or Protestant to me if a man's hun- 
gry you know that," retorted Father Francis quickly; " You're 
all mine." 

"Don't stand talking" said big Jim, the Welshman. " Take 
the priest off. What's a boy like that know of starving men? 
Take him off, or he'll get hurt. Now : Curse Denhard ! Al- 
together, three times- Damn him!" 

Three times the curse . arose like a cheer, and in the shout 
Father Francis knew his influence was lost. 

" Stop !" her cried. "I'll stay here. If you burn the house, 
you burn me ! " 

But his words were checked by the first man who sprang 
forward to thrust his torch through the glass of the front door, 
and by its light Father Francis caught a glimpse of the white 
face of the cripple boy cowering on the stairs. . 

Father Francis seized the man's arm and stayed him, but 
as he held him at arm's length by his upraised hands, a shot 
whistled through the air, and the priest staggered and fell face 
downward on the marble, steps. What his life could not ac- 
complish his death instantly purchased ! 



Deep in the heart of every man there, except the few who 

were present for pure delight in violence, was the love for this 
devoted priest, and the groan that burst forth as he fell was 
the knell of the hopes of those who longed for vengeance. 
The torches were thrown down, and trampled out by the feet 
pressing forward to see if the motionless figure, in its long black 
cassock, on the white stone was dead. 

And as they raised him the police were heard coming up 
the street at double quick, and Denhard was with them. 

They carried Father Francis into the house which he had 
defended, and many of the terror-stricken men rushed back to 
the town for a physician. The priest was not dead more than 
that no one could say till the doctor came. The ball was 
probed for and found ; the patient made as comfortable as pos- 
sible, and he opened his eyes and bade the doctor tell him 
the truth. 

" By morning you will be in heaven, and God only knows 
what we shall do without you," answered the old doctor with 
tear-wet cheeks, for he and the young priest had often met in 
scenes of misery which both were powerless to relieve, and he 
loved him well. 

Father Francis half arose. "Take me back to the town; I 
could not die in this house," he said. 

" Is my house so accursed ? " asked Denhard. 

" So accursed," assented Father Francis. " You, rather than 
the man who fired that shot, are my murderer in God's eyes ; 
and not mine alone, but the murderer of the innocent little 
children and the bodies and souls of men ! " 

Denhard shrank ; he was trembling. 

" Father Francis, I owe you the life of my son, my poor 
crippled son ! You will die for him and me." 

" I would gladly have saved him at any price," replied the 
priest. " I die for my people to save them from sin and the 
consequences of that desperation to which you have driven 

" Can I do anything ? " asked Denhard. 

The light of hope flashed across the dying man's face. 

"Justice," he said. "Pay the debts I owe to the grocer 
and butcher for food for these people." 

" I will gladly carry out your charity," replied Denhard. 

" Not charity from you to them," said the priest. " Pay 
the debt which you owe for their food, and which I incurred 
for you." 


" So be it," answered the man humbly. " I am sorry for 
the wrong ; I will obey you in anything." 

Father Francis looked at him, and his eyes were moist. 
"You seem sincere," he murmured. 

"I love my son," said Denhard. "I am grateful." 

" Open the mill at full time swear to me by the God I 
am going to that you will never oppress the laborer again ! " 
cried Father Francis, excitedly. 

" I do not believe in your God," said Denhard, " but I swear 
to you solemnly that I will treat these men while I live as you 
would have me treat them, for your sake ! " 

Father Francis smiled, a bright, boyish smile. " Now, if 
they did not love me so dearly, what a merry Christmas they 
would have ! " he said. " But they'll be happy anyway after 
awhile. I'll take your promise to God, Mr. Denhard, and ask 
Him in return to show you Himself. Now carry me down to 
the town, for I want to die among my people." 

Mr. Denhard clasped the hand outstretched to him, speech- 
less with emotion. 

"Never mind; I'm very glad. I never could have done for 
my parish in years what these short moments of dying have 
done," said Father Francis. "Good-by." 

The men were waiting silent, grief-stricken, outside the gates, 
and women and children were with them sobbing in suppressed 
anguish, for the news of the tragedy had been carried to the 

" The doctor says I'm going to keep Christmas in heaven," 
said Father Francis as they pressed around his litter. " But 
the mill is to open at full hours and pay, and Denhard has 
sworn to be good to you for ever. Give three cheers for Den 
hard, especially you who cursed him ! " 

There was profound silence. 

" For my sake, dear friends," added Father Francis ; and 
the cheers arose, broken by sobs. " And now we will go home," 
said Father Francis. And with the people following, weeping, 
the procession went down the hill it had ascended so differ- 

It was past midnight when they paused at the church door, 
and creeping up to look in the face so boyish and peaceful 
under the wintry sky, they saw that Father Francis had gently 
gone on his long journey beneath the Christmas stars. 



e- Whispered, wF|en the World Was young, 
In Aden's listening ear 
I he fat of the | riune tongue: 
! nothingness did hear. 

e planted, when the World Was old, 
Of ^Jesse's stem the rod, 
Which blossomed in the crib. Behold 
I he floWer, ( hrist our (yod ! 





'NCE upon a time there lived a poet who, during 
his life, was often too poor to buy enough to 
eat. After he was dead his countrymen, awaken- 
ing to a knowledge that a great genius had gone 
from among them, erected an imposing monu- 
ment to his memory. Sydney Smith or was it some one else 
with a kindred soul? upon hearing of this monument, said: 
" Poor fellow ! you asked for bread and they gave you a 

We Catholics are very kind to our heroes who are dead. 
We are proud to contribute our mites to erect monuments, or 
to pay for memorial windows for our Marquettes and Menards 
and De Smets and Rosatis and Sorins and Kenricks. We 
thrill over the lives of the early American bishops and mis- 
sionaries, and the ardent, if sometimes fiery, confessors of the 
faith ; and we are generously sorry that our lines were not 
cast in those stirring epochs, that our souls could not have 
borne something of the heat and burden of heroic days, when 
the seed of the faith was planted in new soil. How glorious it 
would have been to sacrifice jewels, and teach Indians, and 
shelter missionaries ! We contrast the past with our own age 
of accomplished work the age of gorgeous cathedrals lighted 
by electricity ; of Catholic schools, teaching everything from the 
art of moulding nice little mud-pies to solving a problem by 
logarithms ; of organized charity, whereby our sick poor are 
taken to antiseptic wards in a pneumatic elevator. We think 
complacently of all this prosperity, and sink luxuriously on a 
divan to scan the syllabus for next year's Summer-School, or 
to jot down an engagement at the Reading Circle to discuss 
Browning's place in Modern Thought. 

The Eastern Catholic, who thinks he knows all about the 
West because he has been to the World's Fair at Chicago, and 
who is vaguely conscious that there are regions beyond that 
arrogantly beautiful city, where the habitants embody the old 
geographical distinctions civilized, half-civilized, and savage- 


really knows nothing about the vast territory, or the changed 
conditions into which a Pullman car will whirl him in three 
short days. 

And until he is familiar with these conditions he will not 
understand why writing about the Church in America is very 
much like writing about things in general. Although the same 
flag waves over us all, the same Constitution guarantees us life, 
liberty, and as much happiness as original sin and uncertain 
crops permit, yet Catholicity in the West is as unlike Catholi- 
city in the East, in relation to material conditions, as life in a 
Newport palace is unlike life in an Adirondack hunting camp. 

We Catholics in the West stand, in regard to our pros- 
perous brethren in the East, very much in the attitude of the 
typical poor relation. We rejoice in their splendid prosperity, 
in their churches and hospitals and asylums, in their great men 
the Catholic lawyers, and statesmen, and poets, and finan- 
ciers, whose names and fame belong to their country and, per- 
haps, to the world ; we read eagerly of their celebrations, 
dedications, and ceremonials, and fill our scrap-books with their 
pictures ; we remember them with fond pride, but it is quite 
possible that they forget all about us. They live in such an 
atmosphere of Catholicity triumphant that they do not realize 
how very militant indeed is Catholicity in another section of 
our common country. 

Westward the course of empire takes its way, and on its 
course it repeats the hardships of its earlier migrations. 

This paragraph of statistics may recall to mind and explain 
some of the conditions of the West statistics compiled with 
much weariness and vexation of spirit, for this sort of writing 
is not easy when one has not Mulhall's tables at hand and is 
seven hundred miles away from Father Hugh McShane. 

If the Eastern Catholic will take a map of his country and 
spread it before him, he will see that the centre of the State 
of Kansas is the geographical centre of the United States. 
The eastern boundaries of the States parallel to Kansas and 
north and south of it divide the country commercially into 
eastern and western divisions, although the geographical divi- 
sion extends through the centre of those States. It will thus 
be seen that the area of the western division is greater by the 
half of six States than the eastern. Some may claim that com- 
mercially another tier of States belongs to the West, but a 
closer study will show that they approach more nearly to the 




conditions of the East ; especially is this true of Iowa and 
Missouri. We have, then, here in the West a vast area of 
territory, enough to make a half-dozen fair-sized European 

The political divisions are (Census of 1890): 




North Dakota, . 

- 70,795 


South Dakota, . 

. 77,650 


Nebraska, . 

. 76,855 





Indian Territory and 

>T^ / 9^"^^7 

Oklahoma, . 

. 64,690 



. 265,780 


Montana, . 

. 146,080 


Wyoming, . 

. 97,890 


Colorado, . 

. 103,925 


New Mexico, 

. 122,580 



. 84,800 


Utah, .... 

. 84,900 



. 113,020 



. 69,180 



. 96,030 



. 110,700 


California, . . . 

. 157,801 





20 per cent, increase, 




Counting the increase in population for five years at 20 per 
cent., we have for the West a population of 7,555,221. 

United States, 



(about) 65,000,000 



An elementary problem in arithmetic will show that there 
is in the western division an excess in area over the eastern of 
67,512 miles; and an excess in population of the eastern over 
the western of 49,889,558. 

The ecclesiastical divisions are (Directory of 1895): 

1 897-] 




Jamestown (North Dakota), 40 
Sioux Falls (South Dakota), 62 

Omaha (Nebraska), . . 101 

Lincoln (Nebraska), . . 54 

Kansas City (Kansas), . 124 

Wichita-Concordia (Kansas), 41 
Indian Territory (Vicariate 

Apostolic), . .. . 23 
Dallas (Texas), . . . 40 
Galveston (Texas), . . 39 
San Antonio (Texas), . 55 
Brownsville, V. A. (Texas), 22 
Helena (Montana), . . 32 
Cheyenne (Wyoming), . 8 
Denver (Colorado), . , > 76 
Santa Fe (New Mexico), . 54 
Boise City (Idaho), . . 19 
Salt Lake City (Utah), . 19 
Arizona, V. A., . . . 36 
Nesqually (Washington), . 60 
Oregon City (Oregon), . 50 
San Francisco (California), 192 
Monterey and Los Ange- 
les (California), . . 76 
Sacramento (California), . 43 

Churches and 
Priests. Mission Stations. 



1 30 








1,265 2,715 











(Nevada is divided between the dioceses of Salt Lake and 

There are in the United States 15 Archbishops, 74 Bishops, 
9,754 Priests, and (about) 12,000,000 Catholic people. 

Therefore, there are in the eastern division of the country 
66 Bishops, 8,489 Priests, and about 11,000,000 people. 

The average area of the territory over which a Western bishop 
has jurisdiction is 79,772 square miles, some dioceses being 
larger, others much smaller. 

The diocese of Dallas has an area of 110,000 square miles, 
the largest in the country. 

Leaving out of consideration the larger cities and towns, 
and the well-to-do parishes (the number is not large) where 
the pastors lead lives similar to those of their confreres in the 
East, we have left a body of priests doing heroic mission work 
in the West with all the ardor which characterized their proto- 
types in pioneer days. 
VOL. LXVI. 20 




If one remembers the sparsely settled districts over 'which 
the Western missionary must travel, the poverty of the people, 
the absence of the comforts which an older civilization de- 
mands, it will readily be conceded that their work is really 

The life of a Catholic priest is not exactly a life of sybaritic 
ease anywhere. In the terse vernacular of the West, it is not 
the " Vestibuled Limited" to heaven. But the clergyman in 
the East, however poor his parish, has at least the comfortable 
certainty of sleeping some three hundred nights of the year in 
his own bed, of getting three meals a day and in one place, 
of knowing that when his frock coat or Sunday cassock be- 
comes too shabby he can replace it out of his meagre but 
assured salary. The poor missionary in the West hardly knows 
where his home is. His parish is often as large as an Eastern 
diocese, and the diocese may include a whole State, with 
scarcely people enough to make one average city congregation. 
It not infrequently happens that he has as many as eight 
missions to attend, going to a different one every Sunday, and 
saying Mass at convenient points in farm-houses or lonely 
little chapels during the week. And his salary is one of the 
things to be accepted on faith, with good intentions and will- 
ing hearts as non-negotiable collaterals. 

Priests destined for the Western missions are generally more 
or less prepared in college for the life they are to expect. 
They find that it means poverty, hard work, constant travel on 
horseback or in freight cars, facing at all hours the bitter cold 
and piercing winds and biting sleet of winter, the stifling heat 
of summer, with the sun beating down in untempered ferocity 
on treeless, thirsty, alkali plains, and mosquitoes and flies to 
work their will ; that it means no home for many of them, 
only a stopping-place for a day or two out of each week, poor 
food wretchedly cooked, a habitation where bath-rooms are un- 
known and ice is merely a tradition ; few books except the 
well-thumbed text-books of the seminary, and no society. The 
loneliness is .perhaps one of the greatest trials of the mission- 
ary's life when he goes West, fresh from college, with his 
classics and his philosophy and his theology, after years of asso- 
ciation with great D.D.s and scholarly professors and hundreds 
of fellow-students, some of them brilliant and all of them 

"ned. The change must be striking, indeed, when one who 


has been living with Aristotle and St. Thomas, and all the 
great Fathers of the Church, in an atmosphere of cloistral piety 
and scholasticism, is placed in a mission where he must explain 
the Ten Commandments and the Creed in words of two 
syllables, and show an interest he cannot always .feel in the 
crops and the selling price of pork! 


Some of the missionary experiences in the West read much 
like the annals of an earlier day, when the new-born Republic 
was still in long clothes, and devoted apostles from St. Sulpice 
or Maynooth came over to carry on and extend the work be- 
gun in an age yet earlier. 

Not long ago a priest of western Kansas went two hundred 
miles on a sick-call through a region where railroads are un- 
known, going on horseback or in a wagon, travelling almost 
constantly day and night, snatching a bit to eat on the way, 
and saying his office as he speeded along. He beat death by 
just six hours, arriving whilst the poor woman still retained 
her faculties, and administered the last Sacraments. Had he 
tarried for needed rest and repose, he would have been too 

There is a young priest attached to a Western parish who 
rises at four o'clock on Sunday morning, goes three miles 
into the country to say Mass at a convent, takes the train at 
seven for a town twenty miles away, where he says another Mass 
at half-past ten and preaches a sermon, breaking his fast at 
about one o'clock. In the afternoon he gives an instruction, 
baptizes the new babies, and ends the day with Vespers and 
Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. 

An amusing illustration of the adage that all roads lead to 
Rome is given by the experiences of a missionary in Texas 
who has since been made an archbishop. He was on his way 
to his mission astride a mule, when the mule, after the charac- 
teristic crankiness of its kind, decided to stop and view the 
scenery. Blows had no effect, and the priest could not adopt 
the remedy usual under the circumstances he could not swear 
at it so he dismounted and tried diplomacy. It worked like 
a charm. A cowboy, who had been an admiring witness of the 
contest, came up to the reverend victor and said : 

"See here, Mister Priest, I ain't never keered for parsons 
of your stripe, but a preacher that can get ahead of a mule 
has got grit, and I want to hear you preach ! " 


The sturdy frontiersman heard the future prelate preach, 
not only once but many times, asked for instruction, was 
baptized, and lived a staunch, albeit a pugnacious, Catholic. 

But how lightly these priests take their hardships and their 
poverty ! Their spirit would puzzle a worldling who is a 
stranger to the supernatural motive which can inspire and 
make easy their work. 

A clever young priest, who made his theological studies in 
France and was sent West to a country mission, comes into 
civilization occasionally, as he puts it, and is the guest of a 
woman of culture who tries to keep up with current events. 
On one of these occasions she chatted to her visitor about 
the crops, the indications of rain in his section, and the families 
of his parish, thinking to be sympathetically interesting, until 
he said impulsively : " Please talk to me about your sewing 
society, or the Shakspere club, or , base-ball anything except 
corn and silver ! " 

It was this same clergyman who kept moving nervously 
in his chair as he talked, until his entertainer said kindly : 
" Father, won't you have this rocking-chair ? I am afraid that 
one is not comfortable." 

The young man blushed, and, with the frank smile which 
had won him friends at school, replied : 

" Thank you, the chair is comfortable very; but I have an 
uneasy consciousness that the sun is striking the shiny spot in 
the back of my coat. Putting your best foot forward is not a 
circumstance to keeping the shabby part of a coat in the 

Here is a realistic little sketch which one might call "A. 
Tale of a Missionary," after the fashion of the Sunday-school 
story books : 

" We reached Blank City at eleven o'clock at night, the 
train having been delayed two hours by a wrecked freight car. 
I asked the lone hackman to take me to a good hotel where 
one could get a comfortable bed and some supper. He said : 
'Well, there's the Continental and there's the Palace, and 
there ain't a toss-up between 'em ; but the Palace is nearer to 
the Catholic meetin'-house, and Miz Johnson's first husband 
she runs the Palace was a member of that persuasion.' So 
to the Palace I went. A small lamp, which smelled horribly 
of coal-oil, made manifest the pitch darkness of the long, 
narrow hall where I waited until Mr. Johnson, wrapped in his 
wife's shawl, emerged from an uncanny corridor. To my timid 


suggestion that a bit of supper would not be considered ill- 
timed by a man who had been fasting since noon, he replied : 
' This ain't an all-night bar, and my wife's asleep ; and there ain't 
nothin' cooked, nohow. But you can git breakfast at seven in 
the morning, if you want it.' This was merely a piece of irre- 
levant information to the priest who was going to celebrate 
Mass, by the grace of God, at eight o'clock. But I said 
nothing, and was shown to my room. It was on the north 
side of the house, and in it there was a stove but no fire. A 
window had parted with two of its panes, regardless of the 
pains of another sort it might inflict, and the wind came in 
like a toy cyclone. The bed had one blanket and a top cover 
made out of a lot of red and green rags sewed on a sheet, or 
something white ; I suppose it was intended to be pretty ; it 
certainly was not warm. I got into bed, put my overcoat over 
my feet, but the marrow in my bones was more chilled than 
Hamlet's, and my teeth chattered so much that I was afraid 
the filling would fall out of one of them. I remembered that 
I had a newspaper in my valise, and paper, you know, is one. 
of the warmest things in the world keeps the cold out and 
the heat in so I made a blanket of the paper Sunday edition 
it was, and big ; I had not properly appreciated before the 
blessings of the Sunday press. In three minutes I was as 
warm as a prince tucked in under eider down. I went to sleep 
and slept delightfully until six. But during the night it had 
snowed, and the snow had drifted in on the paper and covered 
the bed." 

This bit of realism provoked a sympathetic murmur, but 
the priest said : 

" Oh, the snow ! I didn't mind about the snow didn't know 
anything about it, in fact, until I awoke the next morning. It 
was the newspaper I was thinking of. The snow had turned 
it into pulp. I hadn't read it, and it had Archbishop Ireland's 
sermon on Patriotism in the supplement. A thing like that 
tries a man's patience when he hasn't the Astor Library around, 
and counts newspapers among the luxuries." 

On another occasion this genial apostle had an appointment to 
say Mass in a certain church on the following morning. He 
was then between two railroads equally distant, about seven 
miles from either ; one train would leave at seven in the 
evening, the other at ten. The priest consulted the driver, 
who assured him that they could make the seven o'clock train 
without any difficulty, so, supperless but hopeful, the young 


cleric started for the station, only to reach it ten minutes after 
the train had pulled out. There was only one thing to be 
done, and that was to hasten back over the fourteen miles to 
the other railroad. 

" Weren't you angry ? " asked some one sympathetically. 

" Angry? I couldn't afford to be ! I should have had to 
go fifty miles to confession ! " 

A venerable old man who had given forty years of his life 
to the service of Indians and pioneers, and had gained chronic 
bronchitis and accumulated at least two hundred dollars, con- 
tributed an account of one of his experiences with " hotels." 
Foot-sore and weary, he had stopped for a night's rest. Upon 
asking to be shown to his room, the landlord took up a 
lantern this tale was related as a sober fact and conducted 
the priest to a back yard enclosed by an adobe fence, where a 
score of cots were placed, some of them already occupied by 
cowboys and ranchmen, and told the poor tired priest to help 
himself to a bed. This was in New Mexico, where' the phe- 
nomenally pure air renders such Spartan treatment compara- 
tively harmless; but it will readily be conceded that for civilized 
man this was really not the most agreeable entertainment to 
be expected. 

Another priest lives in a mud house, when he is not travel- 
ling, a house which cost just fifty dollars to build, and even 
this sum the people were too poor to give, so it was contri- 
buted by the bishop of the diocese. Nor are the bishops 
themselves in some of the Western sees exempt from the 
hardships of their priests. Looking at the matter from a 
worldly point of view, the priest who/ gives up a good parish 
to become a bishop in certain parts of the West has made a 

There is a little story current among clerics of a lazy 
Irishman who was employed as watchman for a gentleman's 
house. A crony of his, less comfortably placed, said enviously : 
"You seem to be havin' a soft time of it, wid nothin' to do 
but smoke your pipe and watch us poor divils go by ye ! " "I 
ain't a complainin'," said Pat, knocking the ashes from his pipe; 
" but I tell ye what, Mike, for a good aisy job, I'd like to be 
a bishop." 

It is possible that some of the friends of a new bishop 
may share Patrick's conception of his " aisy job." 



When a priest whose scholarly attainments and sterling vir- 
tue have commended him to the powers that be, and he is 
selected for the ranks of the prelacy, there is great rejoicing 
among his friends and his old parishioners ; congratulations 
pour in, and presents vestments, and a chalice, and a cross 
and rings. There is a banquet at which everybody says nice 
things of everybody else, the new bishop's fellow-priests present 
him with beautifully engrossed resolutions, tied with ribbons, 
expressive of their regrets at his departure from among them, 
their joy at the honor which has come to him, and their good 
wishes for his success ; a purse probably accompanies the reso- 
lutions a purse which neither the givers nor the gifted dream 
how sorely will be needed ! There is a farewell reception, then 
a railroad magnate places his private car at the disposal of the 
prelate and his friends, and the distinguished party are whirled 
away the bishop from a good parish, a settled income, a de- 
voted people, the friends of years. Upon reaching his new 
field of labor there are more rejoicings and receptions and 
processions it is not necessary to refer here to the religious 
ceremonies which are inseparable from the consecration and in- 
stallation of a newly-appointed bishop the visitors take their 
departure, and the prelate is left to his fate. He finds debts 
and difficulties, hard work and arduous travel, controversies, 
cranks, and criticism. 

A friend of a popular Chicago rector said to him : " I hear 
it whispered that we are soon to have the pleasure of congratu- 
lating you as the new Bishop of Westoria." 

" I the Bishop of Westoria ! " said the priest. " Why, what 
have I done that I should be so punished ? " 

Some of our Western bishops could, if they would, match the 
stories of the pioneer prelates. It was the companion of a 
bishop on a confirmation tour who tells this o'er true tale. 

The bishop and his companion started from the station to 
go to a church ten miles away from the railroad, in a barouche 
considered the star turnout of the neighborhood, which had 
been sent for them. The weather was very dry and the vehicle 
had not been used for some time, so that when the party 
essayed to cross a creek the wheels parted company, and one 
sank into the water for a rather inopportune bath. The bishop 
had played ball in the days of his youth, so he gave the valise 
containing his vestments a dextrous toss, and landed it in 


safety on the bank. The driver unhitched the horses and rode 
to the nearest farm-house, where he procured a wagon. It was 
a commodious affair, painted green with red arabesques on 
the sides, and the name of the maker in big letters on one 
end. The bishop sat with the driver in the seat, perched loftily 
on two stiff springs, and the priest folded his legs under him 
and settled himself on some straw. And in this dignified way 
they made their entrance into the parish, where the pastor and 
the people, the school-girls in white frocks and wreaths and 
veils, and the local band had assembled to welcome the bishop, 
all heroically sweet-tempered after their long hours of waiting 
and wondering what had happened. 

Priests and people love their church and do its work heroic- 
ally. When they succeed in building a little chapel with un- 
painted pews, and placing on its walls chromo stations of the 
cross in vivid reds and blues, the sight of which would be a 
mental hair-shirt for an artist, they feel the same sort of ela- 
tion which thrills the popular rector and his prosperous con- 
gregation when an architect's dream in stately stone and gleam- 
ing marble is dedicated by an archbishop, with the splendid 
ceremonies of Mother Church. 

A stranger to the policy and discipline of the Catholic 
clergy would be astonished, and ought to be truly edified, at 
the class of men to which our missionaries belong. It is safe 
to say that no Protestant denomination ever sends university 
graduates and doctors of divinity to minister to struggling col- 
onies of poor peasants, and to endure the hardships of frontier 
life. Among these hard-worked missionaries is a brilliant mathe- 
matician whose gifts have long been considered wonderful by 
the few who know anything about them ; another is an expert 
astronomer ; another is a profound canonist. One priest and 
there may be many like him has Irish, Germans, Bohemians, 
and Italians in his parish, and he hears the confessions in the 
native tongues of all. 

In charge of a country parish in Kansas is a saintly man 
who was once the Episcopalian Bishop of Rome, with all the 
dignity and power and state the title implies a man with 
noble blood in his veins, and related to a dozen titled families 
in England, who had a career before him that offered the 
prizes of life, but who gave up everything for the One Thing. 
Every one has heard of Father Gallitzin, the prince-priest of 
Pennsylvania, but hardly any one has heard of this noblest 
nobleman who has exchanged a palace for a cottage, a carriage 


and pair for a caboose, the place of honor at a ducal table for 
a solitary repast of bread and hominy, and coffee made of rye. 
Ah, the consolation of that celestial book-keeping which lets 
not the smallest fraction of a sacrifice pass unrecorded ! 

The rules of the Catholic Church make scholars of her 
priests how severe the requirements are, Protestants perhaps do 
not know. The candidate for holy orders spends years, never 
less than five, and sometimes more than twelve, in hard study 
after completing his collegiate course. 

That is, after the youth intended for a secular career has 
taken his diploma and bidden good-by to college halls, his 
companion destined for the church has years of hard study 
ahead of him. Before a young man can be admitted to holy 
orders he must know Latin as a second mother-tongue all 
his studies in philosophy and theology are made in this lan- 
guage he must be conversant with Greek, and one or more of 
the modern languages. Not infrequently he knows Hebrew 
and Sanskrit, and many of the great languages of Europe. 
Three years must be devoted to theology, and two to philoso- 
phy, and, in the case of especially gifted students, often an 
opportunity is afforded of pursuing a longer course. Nor is 
the student permitted to begin his course in philosophy until 
he has been thoroughly grounded in the regular collegiate 

It is putting the term low to say that the average priest 
at his ordination has spent seventeen years in hard study. It 
is not an unheard-of proceeding for a Methodist or Baptist 
minister to start out to preach the Gospel to more ignorant 
rustics after a six months' study of the Scriptures and the life 
of the founder of his sect, following a rudimentary course in 
the public schools, and an examination before a board of men 
perhaps more ignorant than the candidate. 

Sometimes, not often, one meets a Catholic priest whose 
manners and speech are not just what Chesterfield would call 
polished ; but this is hardly surprising when one considers his 
life among poor farmers or miners or cowboys, away from all 
refining associations, and too poor to buy the books and peri- 
odicals which might keep him in touch with the world of men 
pulsating beyond the alkali plains or the rock-crowned moun- 

In reading of these sparsely settled districts, with churches 
and priests far away, one may be tempted to ask, But why do 
Catholics go to these places? Why don't they settle where 


there is a Catholic population, and where a church and priest 
can be supported in their own locality ? To answer these ques- 
tions, even if one could, would really do no particular good, 
for one must accept the fact as it is ; and the fact is, that Catho- 
lics are scattered all through the Western States, a family 
here, another ten miles away, and one church in an area of 
perhaps forty miles. The beguiling immigration agent has 
something to do with their presence, and the prospect of get- 
ting land land representing a great and very decided value to 
the Eastern mind for a few dollars an acre is alluring. And 
the agent for these lands usually has a charming colony on 
paper to show them : here is a lot set apart for a Catholic 
church, there are so many acres for a school, or perhaps the 
church is already built. It is not deemed necessary to say 
that there is no Catholic priest to attend it, and no Catholic 
congregation to support it, and that the sparrows are left to 
build their nests in peace above its closed door. Again, the 
optimistic temperament readily accepts church and school as 
among the things that will speedily follow actual settlement, 
and the adventurous element goes into an unknown country in 
a spirit of daring, on a hazard of new fortunes. 

This is, perhaps, a typical case of a pioneer: A young girl, 
a mere child of sixteen, brought up in a fairly well-to-do home, 
in the degree of comfort represented by carpets on the floors, 
some books, silver-plated spoons, and a step-mother, married 
the nephew of a prosperous farmer, and spent the first months 
of married life with the uncle. The young husband had saved 
a few hundred dollars, and he thought that he would like a 
farm of his own. The couple went to Oklahoma and bought 
a claim from a man who had entered it and tired of it, and 
thought themselves in great luck. They have their farm, but 
they live in a log-cabin, the railroad is forty miles away, the 
post-office six, and the nearest neighbor is two miles from them. 
And they now have a baby a baby son who may one day 
represent his district in Congress, or appear at a friendly back 
door begging for cold victuals. The vicissitudes of Western 
life remind one of Monte Carlo or would if one had ever been 
there ! 

There is always the tendency, perhaps unconscious, to omit 
the other side in describing anything in which one is inter- 
ested. An ex-citizen of the great West was dilating on the 
prosperity and the possibilities of that section of our country. 
" Why," said he, " corn is only a dime a bushel. People 


burn it for fuel ; it is actually cheaper than coal." When some 
one asked him why he had left such a land of plenty there 
is usually some one around to spoil a good story with these 
inconvenient questions he answered, " Because it is so ever- 
lasting hard to get the dimes ! " 

As every one knows, the great problem in the West is irri- 
gation ; the one bar to prosperity, the lack of rain. Whether 
this obstacle will ever be overcome scientists have not yet ven- 
tured to say, but it is quite certain that for many years the 
Western missionary will have a difficult struggle. And whilst 
there is no Aladdin's lamp to smooth his way, there is the all- 
potent magic of money. The people, outside of the large 
towns and older settlements, are not able to support their 
pastors ; for the greater proportion of them are poor, and 
many of them are in actual want. Yet if the priests are taken 
away it means the falling from the faith of the children of 
Catholics and their children's children. Everywhere through 
the West one meets with such names as Patrick Walsh, 
Michael Conor, and Joseph Cummiskey, and their owners know 
no more about the old church, the church of their fathers, 
than do the John Wesley Smiths and the Luther Browns, their 
neighbors and associates. 

Catholics contribute generously and gladly to the support 
of missionaries for heathens in foreign countries. Would they 
not contribute just as gladly to the support of missionaries in 
their own? Is the soul of a Chinaman more worthy of salva- 
tion than the soul of an Irishman, or a German, or a Bohe- 
mian, or even of a plain Yankee, who has sought to better his 
fortunes in the great West ? France has its society for the 
propagation of the faith, and Americans contribute to it ; we 
have a fund for negroes and Indians. Does any one imagine 
that if there was a society for the support of the Western 
missions* (one need not be particular about the name) Ameri- 
can Catholics would let it lack for ample funds? 

In addition to the work of giving spiritual succor to Catho- 
lics, priests might be put in the field to teach our well-mean- 
ing Protestant neighbors. The missions to non-Catholics so 
successfully begun by the zealous Paulist Fathers in the East 
might be multiplied with wonderful results in the West. 

The venomous A. P. A. Society is doing its work with dia- 
bolical success. Eastern Catholics may sometimes read in their 

*Such a society is already organized. It is called THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARY UNION. 
Its office is at 120 West 6oth Street, New York. 


papers of the machinations of this organization, but it is only 
in the West that one sees its aims in all their bald malignity. 

The most ignorant and lurid sermons with which a dema- 
gogue ever sought to inflame the hatred and prejudice of a 
blinded, bigoted rabble in the old Know-nothing days are 
matched, if not surpassed, in our own. 

In cultured and enlightened communities in the East, even 
where solidly Protestant, the Catholic clergy are respected 
as Christian gentlemen, and Catholics are received and recog- 
nized as Americans and Christians, and quite likely to be 
charming people well worth knowing. In the West it seems 
very absurd to say it in this century of electricity and books 
and university extension, when liberality and culture are our 
shibboleth and shield this Asinine Political Aggregation of 
Orangemen and unnaturalized Americans, and their agents, 
gravely formulate and scatter broadcast the most heinous 
charges against Catholics. The public has been told at vari- 
ous times that Catholic bishops had filled their cathedrals with 
fire-arms, and that Catholics were to rise on a certain night 
(usually the feast-day of a famous Jesuit is named) to massacre 
their innocent, unprotected Protestant fellow-citizens. The 
A. P. A. give credit to Catholics for being at least very brave, 
for they are only one to ten in the contest. Ministers calling 
themselves Christians stand up in their pulpits, and, in the 
name of the God of truth, assert that Catholics pay for the 
forgiveness of their sins, and that they can purchase a license 
to break the whole decalogue provided their purses are ple- 
thoric enough and their father-confessors not too high-priced 
in their spiritual wares. Not long ago there was put in circu- 
lation a formidable-looking document resembling parchment, 
emblazoned with a flaming cross, a huge tiara, and a bunch of 
keys (with which the Pope is supposed to open the gates of 
heaven), and signed by the Christian names of the American 
bishops, each name preceded by a cross, in which Catholics 
were warned against the public schools, and commanded to 
band together for the destruction of American liberties, etc., 
etc. It was supposed to be a Papal Bull which had acciden- 
tally and providentially fallen into the hands of a true 
American. Its author was really very imaginative, for the con- 
tents and the style and the grammar were most original. 

The effect can be conceived of such a devilish forgery on 
the minds of an ignorant populace, already inflamed with lurid 
visions of a foreign potentate, in the venerable person of our 


Pope, marching at the head of his legions to crush and kill 
Protestants, and to revel in a carnival of crime, their license 
tucked away securely in their pockets. 

We Catholics have been very patient under our load of 
calumnies, but when abandoned and degraded wretches get up 
before a public audience to vilify all that we hold dear, and 
brand our priests and nuns as human demons, and are upheld 
in their course in the name of free speech, we feel, to alter a 
trite phrase, that patience is not the virtue suitable to the oc- 

Even Protestants who are too enlightened to attribute to 
us the horrors invented by the A. P. A. still regard us with a 
sort of lofty pity as beings steeped in a childish belief, and 
fettered by a slavish obedience to a mere man. We are not 
one with them and cannot be, because of our creed in pro- 
gress and sweetness and light ! 

It is doubtless known by this time, at least to every intelli- 
gent Catholic, that each A. P. A. takes a solemn oath not to 
employ Catholics if he can help it, not to vote for them, and 
to do all that he can against their getting office or acquiring 
any influence in the community. It is true that they try to 
keep this oath secret, that they have changed the P from 
Protestant to Protective, and that they publicly clothe their 
phrases in a beguiling circumlocution, and prate of American 
institutions and public schools ; but their real aim, their real 
venom, have been unmasked by fair-minded Protestants as well 
as by Catholics. Dr. Washington Gladden exposed them fear- 
lessly in the pages of the Century Magazine, and copies of their 
infamous oath the oath which brands them as traitors to the 
Constitution of the United States have been long before the 

Among the difficulties which make thorny the path of the 
Western missionary, this A. P. A. society is not the least. 

To sum up the situation of the church in the West, we 
have a vast region, sparsely settled ; Catholics few in numbers, 
and living far apart ; few priests, and each priest with several 
missions and a parish large in area, necessitating travel and 
privations for himself, and inadequate spiritual ministrations for 
the Catholic people ; poor little churches with the scantiest 
supply of cheap vestments, loaded with debt, and a mortgage 
hanging like a veritable sword of Damocles over the pastor's 
head. Children are growing up, and they must have schools; 
orphans are homeless, and asylums are required ; people fall 



ill, and hospitals are needed. The State may step in with ap- 
propriations for non-sectarian institutions non-sectarian can 
usually be translated " anti-Catholic " but an institution in 
charge of sisters cannot be helped because it is sectarian, 
although it is expected, quite as a matter of course, that these 
same sisters receive into their hospitals and asylums the sick 
and the poor without question of creed or compensation. And, 
lastly, like a poisonous fungus spreading over the land and 
killing out the growth of life-giving plants, is the A. P. A. 

Who will be the St. Vincent de Paul of needy souls, and 
crown the passing century with commensurate aid to the organ- 
ized society for the help of the Western missions ? 

Another little problem in arithmetic will show that if one 
Catholic out of every twelve in the United States will con- 
tribute annually twenty-five cents, or one out of every forty- 
eight one dollar, there would be a fund of a quarter of a 
million of dollars, and this sum distributed among the twenty- 
three dioceses of the West, in proportion to their needs, 
would but who can foretell, even in words, the wonderful 
work it would do ? 

The men are not wanting, the tried soldiers are in the field. 
We can safely leave to future generations the task of writing 
their biographies and giving them stones let us, their contem- 
poraries, give them bread. 




COUNTRY'S greatest pride should be its women. 
To standing armies it may point with exultation, 
but each and every man along the ranks is but 
the embodiment of woman's prerogative to rule 
the destinies of nations. The statesman on the 
rostrum, sending forth in glowing accents the words destined, 
perhaps, to wake a slumbering people, has heard at a wo- 
man's knee the first sweet lessons of patriotism and devotion 


to right. Thus the world looks to woman for all that is no- 
blest, and it has been rightly said that though man educates 
the people, yet woman educates man. 

Considered in her various relations as maiden or matron, or 
in her holier capacity of the self-sacrificing religious, woman 
has ever been an object of interest, and the story of her vary- 
ing missions never fails to rouse the attention of the most in- 
different. In her work as the nun we shall consider her to-day, 
and particularly as a member of the vast body of Ursulines 
that great society which in the old world was the first to 
bind itself by vow to the instruction of young girls, the first to 
cross the seas and, in the new world, to hold out its hand to the 
down-trodden Indian, and, tearing aside the veil of ignorance, 
show him the path to knowledge and morality. 

In 1535 St. Angela Merici, an Italian lady of noble extrac- 
tion, founded at Brescia the Ursuline Order for the instruction 
of young girls, placing it under the protection of St. Ursula, 
virgin and martyr. Until St. Angela's time no religious order 
had existed founded for this end. To her, therefore, belongs 
the honor of having first traced out to woman the career of 
the apostleship. 

The widespread influence and personal magnetism which 
had already won for St. Angela the titles of " Holy Maiden " 
and "Little Saint of Paradise," enabled her to gather the fair- 
est flowers among the Brescian maidens. With twelve of 
these she began the work for which she had longed, and the 
rapid spread of the order through Italy, and into Germany 
and France, testifies to its immediate and increasing popularity. 

Ursulines observe the cloister, and each house is indepen- 
dent of the other upon its secure establishment. In some 
cases, when necessity requires, the cloister can be dispensed 
with. Thus the plastic character of the order accommodates 
itself to all countries and all times. In France, the house of 
Paris furnished the examples of highest perfection. Its mem- 
bers added to the three usual vows of religious, a fourth the 
instruction of young girls. From it sprang Boulogne-sur-mer, 
which has given to our own country so many of her zealous 

Not in Europe alone do the Ursulines claim the privilege 
of being pioneers of the modern education of woman, but they 
were the first to plant the germ in America. 

During, the reign of Louis XIV. Mother Mary of the 
Incarnation, whose name is spoken with reverence by every 


Ursuline, crossed the Atlantic in 1639, just nineteen years after 
the Mayflower had touched our shores and began in Quebec 
the instruction of the French settlers and the Indians. 

A coincidence lies in the fact that in 1638, when Rev. John 


Harvard, in the infant colony of Massachusetts, endowed the 
institution which is New England's pride, Mother Mary 
was cherishing in her convent at Tours the project of educat- 
ing the French colonists. So we may consider Harvard and the 
Ursuline schools of Quebec as contemporary, as well as the 
first institutions of learning on the continent, north of Mexico. 
The first task of the new arrivals in Quebec was to learn the 
Indian dialects. This they did with such success that in two 
months they were enabled to teach the natives in their own tongue. 

Under a spreading ash-tree, tradition relates, Mary of the 
Incarnation sat, day after day, teaching the Indian children. 
When small-pox broke out in the colony, she gathered into 
their humble convent the sick and dying, and cared for them 
with the tenderness of a mother. 

The Ursulines had chosen a favorable moment to enter 
Canada. The field in which the missionaries had long labored, 
with little success, began now to yield fruit. But their diffi- 
culties were many, their expenses great. Not only the Indian 
children, but often their families, had to be clothed and fed 
gratis ; not only must the " bread of instruction be broken," 
but the food of the body as well. It would have been an in- 
sult, according to Indian ideas of hospitality, not to have 
offered food to their guests, so it happened that the " pot of 
sagamite " rarely left the fire. Five Ursulines to attend to 
these calls of both body and spirit were few indeed, and the 

VOL. LXVI. 21 


demands on the larder were continually increasing. But, as 
Mother Mary remarked, "the pot of sagamite was never empty." 

We may imagine the task of taming the graceful gazelles of 
the forest the wild Indian maiden, to whom brush and comb 
were hitherto unknown, whose bed was the ground, and whose 
feet knew covering only in winter ! But the gentle Ursulines 
won the hearts of the dusky children, and conquered through 
them the rough warriors of the forest. 

Mother Mary ranks among America's heroines, and by the 
Indians she was regarded as an angel. Her great heart has 
left its influence upon succeeding generations of religious, and 
the sisterly spirit of the Ursulines displayed itself to those of 
New Orleans in an hour of need, and threw open their doors 
to the inmates of the Charlestown convent, destroyed by a 
fanatical mob in 1839. 

The second foundation of Ursulines on the Western continent, 
and the first in the United States, was at New Orleans, in 1727. 

De Bienville, governor of the Louisiana colony, understand- 
ing the needs of his people, endeavored to obtain religious 
teachers for their children. Placing the cause in the hands of 
Father de Beaubois, S.J., superior of the Jesuit missions, 
he ere long beheld the happy consummation of his hopes. 
Father de Beaubois journeyed to France, where he obtained 
from the Ursulines of Rouen a community of ten professed 
religious, headed by Mother St. Augustin Tranchepain. There 
was also a novice, who had the honor of being the first reli- 
gious to pronounce sacred vows in the United States. The 
project was placed under the auspices of Louis XV., who is- 
sued an edict in their favor. The voyage was long and tedi- 
ous and beset with many perils, so that it was fully six 
months ere the zealous nuns beheld their destination. 

Their arrival was hailed with gladness, and as soon as 
practicable they began their labors, instructing rich and poor, 
whites, Indians, and negroes. After the Natchez Massacre, the 
poor orphans thus left desolate were warmly welcomed by 
the gentle Ursulines, and one of the community dying, and 
two having returned to France, the many duties fell heavily 
upon the seven religious left at the convent. Yet, in spite of 
all, they never regretted their native land, and their unfailing 
zeal won all hearts. 

An Indian chief who came to offer sympathy to the French 
after the massacre remarked, upon seeing some of the nuns 
with a group of orphans : " You are like the Black Robes ; you 



work for others ! Oh, if we had two or three of you yonder, 
our women would have more sense ! " 

Most of the ladies of the colony were educated by the 
Ursulines, whilst girls of humbler rank crowded their day- 
schools. Their evenings and Sundays were devoted to instruct- 
ing Indian and negro women and girls. Later these noble wo- 
men received under their protection large numbers of the ex- 
iled women and children of the unhappy Acadians. 

The great regard in which the nuns were held by both 


France and Spain is testified by numerous writings from the 
authorities of those countries, whilst there are also in their 
possession letters from our early and most popular presidents, 
expressive of the highest esteem. 

The retrocession of Louisiana to France caused consterna- 
tion in the community, some of whom, fearing a repetition of the 
horrors of the French Revolution, favored selling their property 
and founding a convent in Havana. In this they were fortu- 
nately opposed by Very Rev. Thomas Hassett, who encour- 
aged the less timid in their resolution of remaining. Some, 
however, could not be induced to stay, and sixteen sisters, in- 
cluding the superior, left for Havana, where they founded the 
convent which still exists. The arrival of other sisters from 
France served to revive the drooping spirits of those remain- 
ing, who had continued their labors as before. 

Keeping ever in touch with the times, the Ursulines of 
New Orleans bear to-day the same reputation as teachers that 
they enjoyed in early days. At the World's Fair the committees 
of judges, both Catholic and secular, awarded their schools diplomas 
for art, class, and needle-work, and for French and fancy work. 

A few years ago the sisters mourned the death of Mother 
Augustine O'Keefe, who spent many years in the community. 
She was one of those unfortunate Ursulines who was turned 
out in the night with her sisters and helpless charges from 
their peaceful convent in Charlestown, Mass., and beheld their 
home burn to ashes beneath the flames, not more greedy than 
the fanatical mob which started them. A book is extant, en- 
titled The Burning of the Convent, which Mother Augustine 
(known as Mother Austin before her transfer to New Orleans) 
declared to be a series of falsehoods. Her own account, which is 
common history in the New Orleans community, is a thrilling one. 

These ruthless fanatics, with the cry of " Down with the 
Pope ! Down with the convent ! " on their lips, spared no 
one not the helpless living, not the dead in the coffins, whose 
bones they scattered to the winds ! The sisters, dreading sac- 
rilege to the Lord of Hosts, lifted the movable tabernacle, 
and hurrying into the garden deposited it in a bed of aspara- 
gus which had run to seed. Their efforts were fruitless, as it 
was discovered by the miscreants, one of whom pocketed the 
sacred species. As he entered his home, however, he fell dead 
on the very threshold. A swift judgment indeed! 

To the Ursulines of New Orleans belongs the honor of in- 
stituting the ^devotion to Our Lady of Prompt Succor, now 


devoutly practised by the people of Louisiana, who attribute 
many blessings to her intercession. 

From the venerable institution of New Orleans sprang the 
famous St. Ursula's in Galveston, Texas. She has reached the 



" Golden Milestone," but wears on her brow no trace of the 
struggles which marked her infant existence. To the wise ad- 
ministration of Mother St. Pierre the school owes its secure 
establishment on the road to success. The Civil War, which 
checked for a time its progress, could not hinder its advance- 
ment, once the conflict was over. In 1861 its class-rooms, that 
echoed to the sounds of girlish laughter, were converted into 
hospital wards, and sick and dying soldiers were nursed with 
tender charity, irrespective of creed, nationality, race, or party. 

In grateful memory of these services to God and country, 
the cloistered portals of the Ursuline Convent are thrown open 
twice each year to delegates commissioned, respectively, by the 
Confederates and G. A. R., to decorate the humble grave 
wherein rest the mortal remains of Mother St. Pierre, the 
" Soldier's Friend and Ministering Angel." 

The academy is empowered to confer diplomas and degrees, 


and of the efficiency of its teachers many a bright home affords 
unquestionable testimony. Situated near the beach, it is one 
of the most imposing school edifices in the Union, and, with 
its splendid galleries and towering spires, reminds one of the 
baronial castles of Europe. 

At the instigation of Bishop Dubois, of Galveston, a branch 
of these Ursulines was planted in Dallas, Texas, and the little 
band beheld as their first abode a dwelling 12x20 feet in 
dimensions ! 

Half amused, the sisters wondered what they were to do 
with their pupils. With only their talents and a system of 
training that has withstood the test of centuries, united to the 
ready tact which could adapt itself to the needs of a new 
country, they bravely set their brains and hands to work to de- 
vise ways and means to prosecute their mission. 

From the first the sisters met with a cordial sympathy from 
the people of Dallas, and this bond has grown with the growth 
of the place into an identification of interests. From seven pu- 
pils in the February term the number grew to fifty before its 
close, and since that every scholastic year has shown an im- 
provement on the last. 

Among the noble women who stand out in bold relief as 
founders of Ursuline convents in this country, the name of 
Mother Julia Chatfield is prominent. In 1845, under the pro- 
tection of the Right Rev. John Baptist Purcell, D.D., of Cin- 
cinnati, she founded the famous Academy of St. Martin's, Ohio. 
To Father Machebceuf, the zealous pastor of several counties in 
Ohio, is due the immediate foundation of the order in that State, 

A visit to Europe was necessary to settle important busi- 
ness there, and he was commissioned by his bishop to obtain 
religious from Europe to open an academy in his diocese. 
Two fine locations for such an institution had lately been donated. 

Father Rappe, then pastor of Toledo, who was to act as 
substitute in Father Machebceuf's absence, gave to the latter 
letters to Mother St. Ursula, superior of the Ursulines in Bou- 
logne-sur-mer, where he had for several years been chaplain. 

To this superior Father Macheboeuf, as soon as possible, 
made his application. 

Meanwhile, in Beaulieu, there had been re-established since 
the Revolution a house of the Ursulines, which, however, met 
with such reverses that, saddened and discouraged, its members 
were upon the point of disbanding. But God had other de- 
signs for them. The superior heard through friends of Father 


Machebceuf that he was negotiating for sisters from Boulogne- 
sur-mer. She wrote to the mother in Boulogne, asking that 
several sisters from her convent might be permitted to join 
those from Boulogne in their new venture. Whilst this corre- 


spondence was progressing, Father Machebceuf in person visited 
Beaulieu, and after a conference with the superior, proceeded 
to obtain the bishop's consent to their departure. But the rela- 
tives and friends of the sisters, learning of their intention, 
rose in arms, and the convent was thronged with relatives and 
former pupils, who implored them, tearfully, not to leave. 
Others, more importunate, had recourse to the civil law, and 
one morning the sisters found before their doors the mayor 
and the municipal council, who, upon being courteously invited 
to enter, earnestly endeavored to shake their resolution. 

At the height of these grievous trials a letter from Bou- 
logne came like a ray of sunlight into their troubled hearts. 
It stated that Mother Julia Chatfield would join them as 
superior and, with a novice and a young postulant, would ac- 
company them to their new field of labor in the West. 

How to get certain sisters out of the city without rousing 
too much feeling on the part of their relatives, was a problem 
that next engaged their attention. 


A novel solution was found. Knowing that Mother Stanis- 
laus* family would strenuously oppose her going, it was arranged 
that she and a lay sister should steal away at night disguised 
as market-women, and, proceeding on foot to St. Cere, pass the 
night with an aunt of one of the nuns, who was in the plot 
thence to Paris, where the others, leaving a week later, would 
meet them. Then journeying to Havre, they would join the 
three from Boulogne. Accordingly, with dress retrousse", as was 
the custom, her feet encased in sabots now preserved as a 
relic of this historic episode Mother Stanislaus set forth on 
foot to St. Cere accompanied by the lay sister. 

Their amusing yet trying adventures whilst assuming this 
strange attire are quaintly set forth in a beautiful volume, 
Fifty Years in Brown County Convent, which was published by 
these Ursulines in commemoration of their golden jubilee. 

Who can fathom the emotions of these zealous religious, 
who, as they set sail from Havre, severed with one stroke the 
ties of friends and country ? With faces turned towards the 
land of promise, they mourned not for the things of the past, 
but "reached out their hands to the things which were to 
come." Every detail of that perilous voyage is set down in the 
volume 'mentioned above, and we may follow them step by 
step in their tedious journey from New York to Cincinnati, and 
thence to St. Martin's, Brown County. Arriving at the lat- 
ter place late one night, they were entertained by the genial 
Fathers Cheymol and Gacon, whose generous devotion to the 
community later won undying gratitude. After supper they 
were domiciled in a little out-building used by two domestics. 
Finding neither locks nor bolts to the door, they proceeded, 
woman-like, to form a barricade of the beds and washstand. 

In the night they were aroused by heavy footfalls, and most 
peculiar sounds. Visions of wild Western Indians rushed into 
their minds ! But the sound of familiar voices stilled their ter- 
ror, and later they discovered that the savages they had pic- 
tured were the horses that, breaking from the stable, had wan- 
dered into the passage of their dwelling! 

These circumstances were not calculated to happily impress 
the beauties of Western life upon these polished European 
ladies, but they who had broken the ties of friends and home 
were not to be daunted by even greater trials, and with cheer- 
ful hearts they began the foundation of their new abode. 

Brown County Convent ! The pen loves to linger upon the 
pages which tell its history. So widely is it now known, that 


Brown County and the Ursuline Convent at St. Martin's, Ohio, 
have become synonymous terms. " Brown County " has gath- 
ered her pupils from nearly every State in the Union and be- 
yond seas. Hundreds of Christian wives and mothers are dis- 
seminating the seeds of the fruit of Brown County training, 
whilst, hidden away 
in various convents, 
she is proud to num- 
ber Ursulines, Car- 
melites, Ladies of 
the Sacred Heart, 
Visitandines, Bene- 
dictines, Domini- 
cans, Sisters of 
Mercy, of the Good 
Shepherd, of Chari- 
ty, and of St. Joseph, 
all working for the 
one end God's 
greater glory. How 
many women whose 
names are household 
words, whose songs 
in the hearts of men, 
whose pens have 
been wielded in the 
cause of truth and 
justice, look back upon their happy school days at Brown 
County Convent ! And never was theme sweeter or dearer than 
"that which recorded the praises of such an Alma Mater! 

With smiles over which arises the mist of tears they re- 
call the beloved foundresses, Mother Julia and Mother Stan- 
islaus, called by the loving titles of Notre Mere and Ma Mere. 
Of these two no praise could be an exaggeration. The holi- 
ness of their lives, the result of their patient labors, are in- 
scribed in enduring characters on the convent walls, and are 
written on the souls of Brown County's many children. 

Last summer the Brown County Institute held its annual 
meeting near St. Martin's. Besides being called upon to show 
their building and entertain bands of from four to twenty, the 
sisters invited all the teachers and their friends to spend a 
half day at the convent. Numbers of them had never come in 



contact with Catholics, not to speak of being in total ignorance 
of the religious life, and their visit was like a ray of sunlight 
dispelling the gloom of prejudice. 

A worthy daughter of " Old Brown County " is the flourish- 
ing Academy of St. Ursula's, in Santa Rosa, Cal., which since 
its establishment in 1880 has claimed an increasing patronage. 
Apart from the academy, the sisters also conduct many of the 
city's parochial schools. 

Another is the Ursuline Academy in Columbia, S. C., which 
was founded under the auspices of Right Rev. P. N. Lynch, by 
six nuns from Brown County, with the bishop's sister as superior. 

From its beginning their foundation flourished, though trials 
were not wanting to test their virtues and to increase their merits. 

Some miscreants, resenting the appearance of nuns in the 
city, began a series of petty persecutions, such as hurling stones 
at the windows, shouting opprobrious epithets, and on one oc- 
casion firing a pistol-shot into the house presumably at a sta- 
tue of Our Lady. Though the shot narrowly missed the mo- 
ther superior, yet the only damage done was the shattering of 
the window-pane and the shooting off of the shooter's thumb ! 
The sisters finally appealed for protection to the mayor, who 
placed a guard around the convent, and at one time even acted 
as patrol himself. This state of affairs roused the righteous 
indignation of the best Protestant gentlemen of Columbia, who 
called a meeting and put to shame the rioters, who " returned 
to their homes so quietly as not to disturb the nuns by their 

But their peace was now disturbed by the strife of Civil 
War, and the closing year of the struggle marked the darkest 
hour in the history of these devoted nuns. Their convent and 
academy were pillaged and destroyed by the Federal troops 
under General Sherman, in spite of the positive promise of 
protection given by the commanding general. On the night 
of February 17, 1865, the pitying people of Columbia beheld 
a sad spectacle on their streets a procession of cloistered 
nuns, together with their pupils, leaving their loved convent 
to the flames, and themselves seeking safety in the Catholic 
church-yard, where they remained all night. A temporary asy- 
lum was found for them at the Methodist College, which had 
lately been used as a Confederate hospital. 

The nuns lost, at one fell blow, everything they possessed. 
Yet no feeling of revenge entered their hearts ; instead it re- 
mained a custom for twenty years after to offer a general Com- 



munion on the anniversary of the firing for those who had 
shared in that wicked deed. Thus do God's chosen ones re- 
venge their wrongs ! 

The Ursulines remained several months at the college, dur- 
ing which time they endeavored as far as possible to carry on 
the work to which they were vowed teaching their pupils 
orally and from any chance books they found at the college. 
There followed five wretched months of privation, during 
which time one of the sisters succumbed to the exposure and 
poor fare and died " a victim of circumstances." At the end 
of that time a home was provided for them on a farm belong- 
ing to Bishop Lynch, three miles from the city. 

Dark days followed; but finally brighter ones dawned, and 
the labors of the Ursulines have been crowned by the posses- 
sion of a handsome convent and academy, situated in a beauti- 
ful section of Columbia, and where many of America's best and 
noblest women have been trained. 

The Ursulines of Cleveland boast of the oldest Catholic insti- 
tution of learning in that diocese. It was founded in 1850 by 
Bishop Rappe, and the nuns came, like those of Brown County, 
from Boulogne-sur-mer. To-day Cleveland is a city of magnifi- 
cence, but on that far-away August day the eyes of those gen- 


tie strangers fell upon a comparative wilderness. Undaunted, 
however, they set to work and in a short time opened day, 
boarding, and parochial schools, all on the grounds of the small 
domain they had purchased. So marked was their success that 
very soon these daughters of St. Angela perceived that there 
was no more room for the little ones of the parochial schools. 
Then new schools were built upon the convent grounds. It 
was not long, however, before these too were more than 
crowded, and in 1853 Bishop Rappe was obliged to obtain 
from Rome permission for the Ursulines to go out to the differ- 
ent parts of the city and take charge of the parochial schools. 

When, in the days of St. Charles Borromeo, the Ursulines 
of Milan threw open their cloistered doors, and going forth 
cared for the plague-stricken inhabitants, that deed was written 
in golden letters upon the pages of history. Can we not draw 
a parallel between those and the nuns of Cleveland who, at 
duty's call, leave their cherished cloister and go forth like those 
of old not to nurse the physically sick indeed, but to crush 
the poisonous germs of vice and ignorance and to sow those 
of piety and knowledge? 

In 1872 the academy became a collegiate institute. The 
course of learning comprises the preparatory and collegiate, 
and many successful teachers in Cleveland and elsewhere who 
are graduates of this institution testify to its educational worth. 

Feeling the need of even greater space, it was deemed ad- 
visable to purchase a property near Nottingham for a board- 
ing school. This they named Villa Angela, and it was not a 
new foundation, but merely a separation of the boarding and 
day schools. The same courses of study are adhered to as in 
Cleveland ; in both places not only are the fine arts and the 
sciences carefully inculcated, but great attention is paid to 
those " homely duties " which often make or mar the comfort 
of a household. Each year a gold medal for domestic economy 
is awarded to the young lady who excels in the household arts. 

At Villa Angela the nuns, kneeling in their peaceful chapel 
and looking out over the waters of Lake Erie which lap the 
shores of the domain, must be reminded of their beautiful 
Boulogne-sur-mer, which they left long years ago. Surely that 
mother's benediction has tarried with them ! 

The Ursuline Convent in Cleveland established new founda- 
tions in Toledo and in Tiffin, Ohio. 

The former was begun in 1854 by a colony of five religious, 
and more closely identified with the early history of Toledo 



than any other institution is the Ursuline Convent of the Sacred 
Heart. It is now passing the twenty-fifth year of its existence 
as an incorporated college. Its curriculum embraces a thorough 
classical course, the graduates in which receive a diploma and 
the degree of bachelor of arts, and the commercial course, 
which is completed in two years, and includes book-keeping, 
stenography, type-writing, etc. The latter has been taken by 
a large number of young ladies who now fill responsible and 
lucrative positions as secretaries, book-keepers, stenographers, 
and other places of trust in Toledo and elsewhere. The student 
in this course receives a commercial certificate and the degree 
of master of accounts. 

The kindergarten department is also a feature, and its con- 
tribution to the World's Fair was especially noted. Object- 
teaching was explained by illustration. Thus, the figure of a 
miss with a skipping-rope executed in water-colors, and ac- 
companying ones of the hemp, cotton, and flax plants, with 
those of a cow and a sheep, told in unmistakable words of the 
origin of the rope, linen, cloth, leather, and wool of which the 
clothing was made. 


The students of the different grades contributed to the 
same exhibition several elegantly bound volumes showing the 
regular class-work. The title-pages were handsomely illuminated 
by exquisite designs of flowers, mottoes, etc., done in water- 
colors, India-ink, and in etchings. The literary work comprised 
poems, essays, and papers of the highest merit, whilst the 
altar linens, china, and oil painting will not soon be forgotten 
by those who saw them. 

The handsome prospectus of the Toledo Academy is issued 
from the sisters* own press, and at the recent alumnae reunion 
each guest was presented with a dainty card of ivory and 
silver from the same source. 

As publishers, indeed, the Ursulines have much to be proud 
of, if we may be permitted to use such an expression in their 
regard. The beautiful volume recently published, descriptive of 
the work of women at the World's Fair, was compiled by the 
Ursulines. Brown County Convent has issued two handsome 
books, Fifty Years in Brown County Convent and Golden Jubilee 
of Brown County. Who has not read the Ursuline Manual, with 
its rich combination of prayer, meditation, and instruction ? 

Six religious from Cleveland began the foundation at Tiffin, 
Ohio. As the unfamiliar figures passed through the streets 
some one exclaimed: " They are Catholic nuns." Little did 
the people think that their prejudice would thaw under the in- 
fluence of those same nuns, nor could they foresee how, in 
after years, one of their ministers would sacrifice his pastorate 
in a neighboring town rather than yield to his parishioners 
by withdrawing his daughter from the . Ursuline Academy of 
Tiffin, where she was a pupil. 

When the same bigotry, in the guise of A.-P.-A.-ism, showed 
itself in the presence of one of Tiffin's most prominent mer- 
chants, he met it with the rebuke : " Yes, my clerks are Catho- 
lics, and we all feel better for it. My daughters were edu- 
cated by the Ursulines, and if I had a dozen they should go 
nowhere else." 

Even before the academy began to confer collegiate honors, 
the superintendents of the public schools were eager to select 
teachers from its graduates. Some of these now lead their pro- 
fession without being obliged to show either diploma or certificate. 

In 1855 the Ursulines came to New York, and have con- 
ducted flourishing schools in the Archdiocese of New York ever 
since. Their institutions at Bedford Park arid New Rochelle 
are doing their share in the educational work of New York. 


The daughters of St. An- 
gela are also located in Pitts- 
burg, Pa., whence they came 
in 1870 from Havre, France, 
at the breaking out of the 
Franco-Prussian war. Bi- 
shop Domenec kindly re- 
ceived them, and their pre- 
sent academy on Winebiddle 
Avenue occupies one of the 
most beautiful locations in 
the eastern section. Like 
so many institutions con- 
ducted by the Ursulines, it 
has been granted all the 
rights of a college, and num- 
bers of Pittsburgh most 
prominent and wealthy citi- 
zens send their daughters 
here, realizing the value of 
that training which educates 
both mind and heart. They 
are taught to be not " fash- 
ion's gilded ladies, but 
brave, whole-soul, true wo- 
men," elegant ornaments of 
society indeed, but jewels 
of the home circle as well. 
They are urged not to court 
publicity, but to " let their 
light shine before men " by 
good example and the prac- 
tice of those virtues which 
make a woman what God 
intended her to be "but a 
little lower than the angels." 

The Ursuline Order is 
rightly noted for its mother- 
ly spirit, for deeply does it 
drink of that great fountain 
of love gushing from ithe 
heart of their mother, St. 
Angela. And whilst they 


look with kindly, affectionate eyes upon the countless other 
sisterhoods since founded to work in God's field, they yet glory 
in the distinction of being the first to break the furrow. 

From stately buildings, where children of wealth enjoy every 
convenience that modern progress knows, we turn to a spot in 
Montana where women of this same noble order are working 
for the little ones of those who first trod our soil the true 
Americans the down-trodden Indian, who, like Ishmael of old, 
feels that " his hand is against every man, and every man's 
hand against him." 

Tell me, wise statesman, noble philanthropist, have you 
solved the Indian question yet? No! But out there, among 
hardships impossible to picture, devoted women are solving it 
for you ! 

In the beautiful Yellowstone Valley, Miles City lies sweet 
and smiling among its swelling hills and rolling plains. Often 
has the iron horse puffed into the busy " cow-boy " city in 
quest of the black diamonds from the mountain side, but on 
a certain day in January, 1884, it bore a more precious freight 
than its accustomed one ; nor was the wealth of the moun- 
tains its goal. It carried a tiny band of apostolic women 
Ursulines from Toledo, who had come to face with unwavering 
faith and courage the contrast between the old life and the 
new. Behind them the peaceful seclusion of convent silence ; 
before them what ? Only God could tell. At the bidding of 
two noted prelates, the late Bishop Gilmour of Cleveland and 
Bishop Brondel of Montana, they had prepared to face all the 
labor and poverty of a mission in the far West, and now went 
forward like children leaning on a father's arm. 

From his episcopal city, Helena, four hundred miles dis- 
tant, Bishop Brondel had come to meet them. For years had 
this man of God labored among the abandoned Indian tribes 
and had given an example of self-sacrifice so sublime as to 
defy all words of praise. That day there stood by his side 
Father Lindesmith, chaplain at Fort Keogh, the great " Rus- 
tler," with whom right and rule were law and patriotism next 
to fidelity to God. 

We read the records of the Ursulines in the far West with 
mingled smiles and tears. 

The first night they were installed in the log-cabin of Mrs. 
McCama, a lodging-house for ranchmen and cow-boys ! The 
next day their first thought was to secure a little home of their 
own. This they did, but at what a sacrifice ! Father Linde- 


smith was absent, and the strange shyness of Miles City Catho- 
lics left them entirely unaided. Alone they trod the streets, 
seeking a house alone they sought the plumber, the tinsmith, 
the coal-dealer, and grocer. No one came to assist them, and 


they spent the day in the roughest household labor, and when 
at last with frozen hands they succeeded in building a fire, 
they left their toil to watch the smoke that went curling up 
from the first Ursuline Convent in the Rocky Mountains. 

Where volumes might be written, it is difficult to condense 
within present limits the story of the trying labors and destitu- 
tion of those weary days. 

Father Lindesmith, with characteristic humor, had written 
to Toledo that " there was no use coming to Montana unless 
they could rustle," and they did not disappoint his hopes. 

The various missions were opened in the following order : 
Miles City, St. Labre's, St. Peter's Mission^ novitiate and mother 
house, in 1884; St. Paul's and St. Xavier's, 1887; St. Ignatius' 
and Holy Family, 1890; St. Charles' and St. Berchman's, 1892. 

At all of these are taught various tribes of Indians. Until 
July, 1896, the sisters received insufficient but regular support 
from the government. Now, the mission schools still receive 



forty per cent, of their contracts for 1895, but the supply has 
been entirely cut off from St. Peter's, where there are the 
mother house, novitiate, and a hundred Indian girls. Around 
this mother house the sisters' tenderest memories dwell. For 
seven years St. Peter's consisted of a row of log-cabins con- 
nected by a porch. One snowy day the ranchers sought the 
nuns in vain. They were buried in snow and had to cut their 
way out with axes into the daylight. Day after day the sisters 
lighted the lamps at ten in the morning, because the snow 
had curtained off the windows, and the most convenient way 
they found of going from the back of the house to the front 
was to cross the roof on the huge snow-drifts. When the snow 
melted in the spring and the summer rains came on, then their 
sufferings were greatest, for the poor little roof leaked, and the 
sister who did the cooking often waded knee-deep in water 
to get the meals, and was compelled to fasten an umbrella 
over the frying-pan ! 

In the winter of '90 the sisters sheltered a thousand children. 
Last winter many were exposed in their camps to frightful 
sickness and hunger. This was the fate of the little ones. 
But the larger girls ah ! their guardian angels alone knew their 
misery ! These poor children flock to the sisters. They wash, 
comb, clothe, feed, shelter, educate them, and they have not 
a cent on earth save what comes to them in sweet Charity's 
hand. Oh ! you whom God has blessed with abundance, and in 
whose heart he has poured the oil of his charity, turn to those 
noble women whose pleading voices are lifted in behalf of the 
outcast Indians. Your charity may save countless souls, and 
hedge around with banks of lilies the endangered innocence of 
the Indian girl ! 

One word about Mother Amadeus, foundress and superior- 
general of the Ursuline missions a woman of magnetic power, 
whose labors and privations stamp her face with that indescrib- 
able charm which recalls the poet's lines : 

'"If an artist paint her, he would paint her, unaware, 
With a halo round her hair." 

Once when Mother Amadeus was on her way to the Crow 
Mission she was caught in a huge snow-drift. The sleigh could 
not cut through, and she and her companion lay in the snow all 
night when the thermometer registered forty degrees below zero. 
Again, she and three companions were nearly an hour in the 


frozen waters of Blue Creek. A cloud-burst had dug the bed 
of the stream, and the horses, mistaking the ford, stood motion- 
less on the chasm's verge. The driver fainted in horror, and 
Mother alone guided the terrified animals until help came. 

At another 
time this remark- 
able woman was 
beset by a pack 
of wolves. Kneel- 
ing down, she re- 
cited the " Memo- 
rare," and the 
hungry fiends 
swooped around 
the mountain side 
and left the nuns 

But they con- 
sider none of 
these perils like 
unto the one which 
threatens them 
now. Penniless, 
unaided, is it not 
with the faith that 
works miracles 
that they throw 
open their doors 
to the thronging 
Indian children, 
and invite them 
to the arms which, 
alas! may soon drop powerless at the side? Oh! that the 
day may soon dawn when they who make the laws in our 
beloved land may lay aside the bigotry and hatred which too 
often curse our legislation, and right these wrongs. May they 
come to understand the great heart of the self-immolating Ur- 
suline, who labors against every drawback for the unhappy sav- 
age, and who teaches him through his children to be a Chris- 
tian and a true citizen ! 





HERE seem as many ways of dividing literature 
as there are departments in it, and it may ap- 
pear superfluous to suggest another ; but, if we 
look beyond the mere contents of books, be- 
yond the dividing lines which separate poetry 
from prose, science from fiction, etc., etc., we may discover 
that literature naturally divides itself into two classes and per- 
forms two distinct offices. In the one class are the books 
we cannot live without, and in the other the books we ca 
dispense with. I have chosen to call the first " books tri- 
umphant " and the second "books militant," and the develop- 
ment of this paper will, I trust, make my idea plain. 

These divisions may, and often do, blend into each other, 
yet each is, after all, distinct and independent of the other. 
A triumphant book is a book of power an immortal book ; 
and a book militant, which word seems not so plain, is one of 
knowledge, of use, a provisional work, a book on trial and 
sufferance. It may be compared to a soldier, for it marches 
in and takes its place upon the stage of life, like a soldier on 
duty. Fighting its way for existence, with colors gaily flying, 
it is used by the powers that be, and then, when the battle is 
over and we have gleaned from it all we need of knowledge or 
pleasure, it marches out again, not so boldly and confidently, 
perchance, as it came in. 

New discoveries in the scientific world make the book of 
use old in ten years, new fashions in novels make us smile at 
the books our grandmothers wept over, and new schools of 
poetry make us yawn over the poems our grandfathers declared 
perfect of their kind. The fight of the book militant is over, 
its mission ended; we build upon the foundations once deemed 
ultimate new facts, new theories, and these in turn pass out 
into oblivion and decay. But a book triumphant knows neither 
decay nor death, as long as the language exists in which it 
speaks. To amend or revise a militant book is a praiseworthy 
thing. The living power in the book is bound to remain, while 
the form or teachable facts are ever being re-clothed in new 
and more acceptable garments. But to attempt to vary or 


improve a book triumphant is to plagiarize. The soul of the 
work is incarnated, and to dissever it from the lovely body 
would be to mutilate. The difference between a mortal and an 
immortal book is as deep as life, for in the one we have life 
embodied, in the other kaleidoscopic pictures, perhaps lacking 
in every vital quality, or a presentation of long strings of mere 
working facts and theories. An immortal book is the soul of 
the man looking forth from its illumined pages ; and as no two 
men ever read the open page of life with the same eyes, so 
no two triumphant books can be alike. Literature cannot sur- 
pass what is greatest and deepest in life, therefore the immor- 
tal books must touch an answering chord in our natures before 
we understand them or make them our own. It has been said 
that it takes a great man to criticise a great book, and this 
truth underlies the apparent extravagance of the statement 
that the spirit of the book and the spirit of the critic must be 
in sympathy, else the message is broken and the book speaks 
to deaf ears. With all Dr. Johnson's greatness and he was a 
great and good man, more lovable and human than Milton 
by many degrees he could not justly estimate Milton's work, for 
his mind was out of sympathy, because lacking those qualities 
which are demanded of the critic of Paradise Lost. 

We all like to keep good company, and I have some sym- 
pathy for those unlucky wights who are so honestly ashamed 
of their inability to read certain immortal works Paradise Lost, 
for instance that they maintain a discreet silence. Honesty 
keeps them from pretending to admiration, and frankness from 
their point of view would accomplish nothing except a com- 
fortable easement of conscience, which they are quite willing 
to forego. Occasionally one of the world's immortals discloses 
curious limitations of spiritual vision. . One would naturally 
conclude that the message would be of far deeper import to 
them than to men of smaller mould, but this does not always 
hold good, and we have some rather startling examples of this 
lack of literary insight. Emerson could see nothing in Shelley, 
Don Quixote, Aristophanes, Miss Austen, or Dickens. He 
rarely read a novel, and thought Hawthorne's books not worthy 
of him. His opinion on Dante fills us with dismay, it is so 
contrary to what the majority would conclude ought to be the 
inevitable effect of the most spiritual mind of the middle ages 
upon the most spiritual mind of modern times. Emerson's 
judgment is delightfully frank, if inscrutable. He says: "Dante 
is a man to put into a museum, but not into your house ; 


another Zelah Colburn ; a prodigy of imaginative function, exe- 
cutive rather than contemplative or wise." Is this what we 
would expect from the author of Society and Solitude ? 

It is consoling to feel that the scope of a book militant is 
narrowed to its own short day of fame ; its agencies work not 
beneath the surface. It teaches, amuses for a brief span only, 
while the influence of a triumphant book fills the mind with 
awe, so limitless, so infinite are its possibilities. Its mission is 
to uplift the s^ul, and its' foundations are buried in the deepest 
parts of our natures, while its spirit carries us into the loftiest 
regions attained by mortal intellect. A book triumphant often 
touches the soul with such swift, unerring aim that the shock 
throws the mind out of its usual balance. Alfieri, in the 
strange story of his life, tells of the powerful effect which the 
first reading of Plutarch's Lives had upon him. "I flew into a 
transport of joy and rapture, and could my wild, unbridled 
satisfaction have been witnessed by any one, I should have 
been taken for a maniac. Cries and groans and inarticulate 
exclamations were all I could express at the treasures unfolded 
before me." 

Plutarch has had an influence which bids fair to become 
immortal, and his devotees, though not all so unbridled as 
Alfieri, are many and faithful. Emerson says that " Plutarch 
cannot be spared from the smallest library ; first, because he is 
so readable, which is much ; then, that he is so medicinal and 
invigorating." The genial Montaigne read his Plutarch loving- 
ly, but our confidence in his judgment is slightly shaken when 
he calmly informs us that he can see nothing in Cicero but 
"wind"! Long generations of school-boys will probably be the 
only ones to endorse this opinion. 

What a difference -there is between our books ! We are 
trained by the books militant, the books of use; we grow 
through yielding ourselves to the triumphant books. No 
education is rounded which leaves out of consideration the 
moulding influence of the great poems of the world. No 
purely technical school can succeed in sending forth a bal- 
anced man. When allegiance is given too exclusively to the 
militant books, which are tools, stock in trade, the spiritual 
nature is left to starve and the balance distorted. It is the 
soul, not the skill, which survives in a book ; and the main 
difference between a triumphant and a militant book is the 
difference between genius and talent. We fondly call trium- 
phant books "the kinsmen of the soul," all others being mere 


acquaintances, touching the outer circles of our lives only. 
Emerson said that he used his books as an intellectual stimu- 
lus " to set his top spinning," but the true books are as the 
men and women who, flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood, 
stand so close to us that we almost tremble at the thought of 
criticising them. It is not the militant, passing books which 
educate us; we must have them, but always, bear in mind, in 
their subordinate place. Andrew Lang says that the best 
training for life is found in the three immortals of the world, 
the Bible, Shakspere, and Homer, and Emerson asks why the 
young men of the race cannot be educated on Plato. Do not 
criticise your great books ; let them pass beyond the " outer 
portal of criticism " into the heart, and then read them with 
your heart. A great book must touch us before it can teach 
us ; therefore let its beauty sink deep into your soul, and after 
you love it and cannot live without it, you may wisely begin 
to criticise. 

There seems to be a time to read books, and a season for 
each one, and it is well to study our moods and find out just 
what book fits into each particular mood ; but read, read, read, 
and you are sure to come into your kingdom. Dr. Johnson 
thought we should always read according to inclination, and 
the sage of Concord agrees with him, though limiting the choice 
to famous books and never a one less than twelve months old. 
What the reader with strong natural leanings towards new and 
not famous books is to do, Mr. Emerson saith not. Probably 
such benighted density did not occur to him as having any ex- 
istence. I would beg leave to differ with both learned doctor 
and sage, and suggest that we qualify and temper our natural 
inclination with a large humility. If we fondly hug our taste 
and conceitedly fancy it to be the highest or the right taste, 
because our very own, we shall never grow, and growth should 
be the ambition of every lover of books. Taste, dip into, and 
persistently try to enjoy the' best books, and you will very 
probably do so in time. Yet a book, if it speak at all, ought 
to be part of our lives, as it was once bone and marrow of 
the man who created it. There is a subtle connection between 
triumphant books and the progress of the world. The steady 
trend of the former is towards the light, and our real growth 
could be measured by our appreciation of them. A great book 
is always optimistic, and our highest moods see amelioration 
and improvement in the advancing centuries. Dogmatism in 
matters of literature is peculiarly obnoxious, and no one can 


say the final word on even so open a subject as the number 
of immortal books. There is no final judgment in letters, as 
there are no final books. The greatest book is only the finite 
speech of the soul, and " the soul of man is ever growing and 
striving upwards through endless experiences into larger knowl- 
edge of itself." 

Yet the consensus of the world's opinion gives not more 
than a score of immortal books, and of these I will only take 
four as immortal in their entirety : the Bible, Homer, Dante, 
and Shakspere. There are happily many triumphant books, 
which are immortal in those parts that have been breathed up- 
on by the genius of their creator. Of these individual taste 
goes a good way towards selection. We are apt to look upon 
our favorites among books somewhat as we do upon our own 
kith and kin, being marvellously touchy if any one dares to 
make invidious remarks about them, but using large liberty in 
criticising them ourselves. Their foibles and idiosyncrasies are 
ours also, and woe be to the friend who ventures to smile at 
our family ways ! Among the crowned kings of the intellect 
most of us count Plato, Milton, Cervantes, Goethe, Wordsworth, 
and Emerson, and certain gems of Hafiz, Heine, Shelley, Lowell, 
Hugo, and Sand are perfect in their way ; their sway is, how- 
ever, not over the entire world, and there are some to eagerly 
dispute their claim. But the supremacy of the four great ones 
is beyond doubt ; all pay glad allegiance to them. It is but 
recently that the literary value of the Bible has aroused the 
interest of scholars, and every expression of opinion in this 
new field claims earnest attention. Professor Hunger, in speak- 
ing of the literary form of the Bible, says : 

" It is not necessary in literature that it spring from the 
literary motive. Christ himself uttered much that is in the truest 
sense literary. It does not matter how it comes about, if it is 
the genuine thing. Christ was without the literary purpose, 
but that does not forbid us from- counting the ' Parable of the 
Prodigal Son ' as a consummate and powerful piece of litera- 
ture. The great master-pieces do not primarily spring from the 
literary sense or motive, but from human depths of feeling and 
duty, their absence leaving the inspiration if anything more 
free. Out of such unconsciousness came Hamlet, the Imitation 
of Christ, the Pilgrim s Progress, the Gettysburg Oration, and 
many others." In common with all immortal books, the Bible 
is a growth, a creation. Its structure and its style are a part 
of it, and cannot be separated from it. A work of mere talent 


can be divorced from its style, but in the master-piece the style 
is the incarnation. To many devout natures this may appear 
almost sacrilegious, yet I believe there will be no loss of spirit- 
ual insight, and a large gain in intellectual pleasure, by looking 
upon the Bible as a great literary work, made up of separate 
and distinct parts. The stupendous task which the editors of 
the Polychrome Bible have undertaken will eventually give us 
the Bible in all its pristine beauty, and the work will glorify 
this century by its breadth, liberality, and scholarship. Poets 
have the birthright of spiritual vision, and surely Dante is the 
most spiritual poet the world has ever seen. He is a contrast 
in almost everything to Homer, the other immortal poet. 
Homer appeals to the entire world, Dante to the elect few ; 
yet both are for all time, and therein lies the mystery. There 
is something sacred, inaccessible, and intangible about genius, 
and the creator, least of all, understands the mystery. Goethe 
was not posing, I think, when he disclaimed his ability to ex- 
plain his treatment of Faust ; the inspiration seized possession 
of his soul and he wrote because he had to write. Mrs. Stowe 
once told a friend that she had no idea how Uncle Tom's Cabin 
was going to end. It simply unfolded itself before her, and 
her hand penned the lines which her genius dictated. Each 
age compares itself with the immortals, and holds up its own 
fairest types to the mirror of the past, hoping to find kinship 
with them. Are we not always translating our master-pieces ? 
Does not every tragedy recall the divine trio of Greeks ? Does 
not every lyric date back to Hafiz ? These pictures from the 
childhood of the world exert a perennial fascination over us, 
and we feel that no such sane, fresh, and natural views will 
ever again prevail. Carlyle called Dante "the spokesman of 
ten silent centuries," and the phrase is grandly expressive. 
There is but one Divine Comedy, one poem so comprehensive 
in scope, so deep in feeling. But these books are not easy 
reading, and we too readily neglect them to skim over the 
ephemeral froth of the hour, not once recognizing that they 
should be our daily and perpetual food. 

To pass to our next Immortal. It would be a superfluous 
task, and one far beyond talent or inclination, to criticise 
Shakspere ; Henry James says that every new critic of Shak- 
spere makes it a matter of principle to differ with every other 
critic ; and as I have no new views to offer, it becomes me to 
confine myself to the bald statement that Shakspere is the 
greatest of the immortal men the world has seen. 


There is a little book which comes so near to being one of 
the immortals that I have a mind to put on my list the Imi- 
tation of Christ, by Thomas a Kempis. It is a slender book, 
but teems with knowledge of humanity. The soul of its writer 
speaks directly to the soul of the reader, and the truth, simplicity, 
and charity of it have made it a guide to the greatest and purest 
of minds. Surviving all the philosophy and science of its age, 
it is read and revered in many languages, and time seems pow- 
erless to diminish its influence. 

Books may be triumphant in many ways. Though lack- 
ing perfection of form, they may have a certain spiritual qual- 
ity which is so fine and true that it appeals directly to us, 
and its moulding influence extends beyond its own day in- 
definitely down the ages. John Halifax, Gentleman, is such 
a book, and I doubt not that it will continue to awaken the 
same noble yearning, the same pure, high ambition in young 
men for many generations to come. There are such books 
in every language, and their mission is a very noble one. 
They are like the influence which a quiet nature, strong, 
sweet, and unspoiled by the world, often exerts upon all who 
come in contact with it. We may also compare them to a seed 
which is sown, grows, and sows itself again and again, till it 
can be said to obtain everlasting life. Who reaps the crop ? 
How many are sustained by its succulent food? How many 
grow to noble stature who, without it, would have lived worth- 
less, stunted lives? These influences which breathe forth from 
a book are so pervasive, so incapable of analysis, that we scarce- 
ly take note of them. They are like light and the air we breathe, 
giving sustenance and vigor in a subtle, noiseless fashion, im- 
perceptible to the finest senses. The analogy becomes too 
tempting ; we shall soon be comparing books with every prize 
within man's reach, for there is no lover of books who does 
not dote on extolling his idol's charms, and surely nothing 
arouses such warmth of feeling as to find that some familiar 
author has loved the same books that we cherish. Who is not 
pleased that Alexander Dumas loved Goethe, Shakspere, Virgil, 
and Scott? that Goethe once said that the reading of Sir 
Walter made an epoch in his life ? And who does not confess 
to a sinking of heart at hearing that pure, sweet-minded Emer- 
son and the womanly, gifted George Eliot enjoyed positively 
enjoyed reading Rousseau? I confess to finding Rousseau dis- 
gusting, though all the while recognizing the genius of the man 
and the high literary quality of his horrible Confessions. 


The line separating triumphant from militant books is a very 
irregular one, at times so slight as scarcely to be perceived, 
and we are in doubt on which side the book stands. Matthew 
Arnold's three estimates may aid us somewhat in fixing the status 
of a book the first being the measure of strength and joy we de- 
rive from the book, the second the historical, and the third the 
personal estimate. Yet one thing is certain no book is immortal 
to us if it does not triumph serenely over the first estimate. We 
must derive some positive pleasure, some good from the book, 
must be uplifted and cheered by it. Dr. Johnson put the mat- 
ter in a nutshell when he said : *' A book should teach us either 
to enjoy life or endure it." 

The office of literature, broadly stated, is enjoyment, and to 
insure this laudable end there must be, alas ! too frequently, 
forgetfulness of self. It is such a good thing to forget our- 
selves, our duties, our wasted lives, our petty ambitions, the 
hurry and rush of things, and live in the satisfying realm of a 
book ! This is the function, above all others, of the novel, and 
the sole reason for its being. The novel which for the time 
makes us banish sorrow, disappointment, and failure does a very 
gracious thing, and its influence on our lives, at least, is 
supreme. George Eliot wields this magical charm over some, 
myself among the number, while others, whose lives touch 
mine at many vital points, derive nothing at all of pleasure 
from the books which so uplift and cheer me. There are, alas ! 
so many boundaries set on every life, the groove in which we 
all tread our destiny is so narrow, the limits of our activity so 
confined, the walls which shut us out from the Elysian Fields 
so high and rough, that I wonder we do not more clearly ap- 
preciate the gifts which books spread before us. Consider how 
free and limitless is their world compared with ours! When 
we enter into their kingdom we are granted converse with the 
deathless ones ; our souls sing and soar, unfettered by any 
bound, and we may, for the time, forget that we are but aliens 
and guests in a larger sphere. Seldom is duty so closely allied 
to pleasure as in the duty, which devolves upon every one, of 
reading. I have noticed a tendency in many men and women to 
look upon all reading which did not touch their particular 
vocation in the light of a luxury, and I think the measure of 
their content would be greatly enlarged if they could heartily 
agree with the opinion of two famous men, Cardinal Newman 
and Bishop Baxter. The saintly prelate cites among our duties 
" the duty of living among books," and Baxter goes so far as 


to exclaim: " Do not our hearts hug our books? Do we not 
quiet ourselves in them far more even than in God?" Sir 
John Herschel also looked upon reading in the light of a duty, 
clothed in the garb of a legitimate pleasure. He says: "If I 
were to pray for a taste which should stand me in stead under 
every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness 
and cheerfulness to me through life and a shield against its 
ills, it would be a taste for reading." Therefore fill yourselves 
with the books of use, the militant books, that you may live 
with the triumphant ones. It is absolutely sure to enlarge 
your horizon. No man ever grew narrow through over-much 
reading, and the deeper insight into truth which the genius 
puts into his book enables us common mortals to more truly 
understand life. The greatest gift the gods can bestow is, 
after all, knowledge of life ; not of mere externals, of the crude 
facts of the militant books, but a knowledge of motives and 
springs of action. There are some rare natures who get along 
with profit to themselves and uncriticised by the world with- 
out much reading, but they are too rare even for an example, 
and it is safer to worship than imitate them. Abraham Lincoln 
was such a man. His power and influence over men could not 
have been greater, it would not have been amplified by read- 
ing, and might even have diminished somewhat, for he read 
the book of nature at first hand, needing no interpreter, no 
external aid. What he needed only were the facts and dates 
and accounts of things, which the books of use gave him. The 
insight, the transfusing power were there in the man-, for he 
was all genius, the very man to write immortal books had cir- 
cumstances turned him in that direction. I count my time 
far better spent in reading than in writing. We do not need 
the little thoughts of little men and that is all the most of 
us can offer as much as insight into one immortal man, and 
years, nay, a lifetime of study are not too long for it. Study 
and worship the triumphant books till you understand them ; 
it will be the measure of a well-spent life. But there is an 
order to be noted, failure to observe which makes us mere 
book-worms and intellectual gluttons. We must study life first 
and afterwards books, from our knowledge of life. The connection 
between literature and life is vital, but we can never get our 
knowledge of humanity from books alone. Neither Shakspere 
nor Goethe can teach us humanity; but if we become patient in- 
vestigators on a small scale, we can derive much light and 
strength from the study of the largest results of the largest minds. 

"Ah, thou rare Rose! a shelter all unmeet 

Was Thine a rude shed open to the sky ! 
Came on the gray wind's wings the snow and sleet 
When Mary's heart leaped up with sudden beat 
To hear a new-born Baby's first weak cry.' 1 ' 1 




HRISTMAS EVE, long looked for, much talked 
of, has come at last. It has been snowing all 
the morning in soft, gentle, fleecy showers. The 
branches are bending under the white burden, 
the robins are flying for shelter and shyly drop 
on the window-sills for a feast of crumbs. I throw up my 
window and revel in this home-like scene. The park looks 
strange in its bridal array, the mountains are gloomy under 
the dark clouds, and sulkily retire from view. The air is life- 
giving, and I long to be out and away. There is much to do 
before the day is over, and, snow or sunshine, Kitty and I 
have a long drive on our programme. As I stand admiring, 
she comes galloping up from the lodge, her hat and cape bor- 
dered with snow-flakes, her eyes and cheeks glowing. She sees 
me above with the robins and, waving her whip, cries : 

"The compliments of the season! It is glorious! Come 
along; we shall have a charming day for our spin." 

I am down in the hall and with her before she has 
finished. Aunt Eva and Nell, according to the old family cus- 
tom, remain at home to give the Christmas-boxes in person to 
the people in the neighborhood, while to those at a distance the 
provisions are sent, Kitty and I being the Mercurys this year. 

We were to have driven, but as we must be out in the 
cold all day, it has been thought wiser that we should ride, tak- 
ing Barney, one of the Dungar stable-boys, and the pony-cart 
for the presents. The air is bracing if chilly, but we trot and 
gallop when we feel the sting ; the roads are hard, and the 
snow melts as it falls. At the cross-roads, in the wood, through 
the village street, beyond the bog, and far into the mountains, 
we call, and leave greetings and gifts from Crusheen and 
Dungar, galloping away 'mid a shower of blessings for "the 
auld and young misthress," and a share for ourselves, such as 
" May the light of heaven be about ye ! " " May the world 
wonder at your riches, Miss Kitty!" "May the heavens be 
your bed, Miss Dolly, and the Lord send you safe home ! " 

But the funniest benediction comes from blind Biddy, who, 
after a long supplication for our spiritual and temporal welfare, 
winds up, " An' may we always have ye whin we want ye ! " 


Barney's salutation at each door is " God save all here," and 
is answered from within with a warm " God save ye kindly." 
It is growing dark by the time we get through all our calls, 
and, returning by the chapel, we find the priests still in the 
confessionals, where they have been since morning, surrounded 
by old and young. The chapel is icy ! No fire, of course, 
and the fathers must needs take a brisk turn, wrapt in their 
great-coats, to keep their feet warm. We are so heated with 
our exercise that we do not feel it much Kitty not at all 
and when I express surprise, she is much amazed. She says 
every one is so accustomed to the cold that they do not mind 
an occasional severe day like this, ending with her usual joke 
at America: "Of course your people expect to climb to hea- 
ven in down and purple velvet." 

We get home full of fun and adventure, to find Nell rather 
weary after all her interviews. We help with the remainder ; 
Kitty, with long familiarity, sending them off with merry words 
and extra speed. 

I am worn out when all is over; Kitty rides away to Cru- 
sheen with as much zest as if she had been luxuriating all day. 
We gather round the fire, joyous if weary, feeling we have 
done a good day's work in making so many happy. Kevin has 
been out on the mountains all the week shooting, and has just 
returned. We tell him our experiences, and he is full of indig- 
nation, tempered by admiration for Father Gerald. 

Whenever he can, on his mountain expeditions, he spends 
the night with the sweet friend of his boyhood, when Judy airs 
all her injuries against his reverence, that Kevin might " spake 
to him " his early rising, his long hours in the confessional, his 
hard life, etc., etc. This time she is in tears over Father 
Gerald's latest, being almost consoled by Kevin's unqualified 
sympathy. The fact is, Mrs. Riordan was so miserable that when 
his reverence found her lying on straw, he sent down his own bed 
to her, taking the cot for himself until better days should come. 

" I tell you," added Kevin, full of wrath, " I gave it to old 
Gerald this time ; but he is not a bit afraid of me. I put on 
my hat and made for the door, declaring I was not going to 
stay where there was even no bed for me. With a stride he 
collared me, and then he had his say, which had a calming 
effect on me ; his one question being, * Now, Fortescue, I know 
you pretty well by this time, and, answer me, could you rest at 
night in comfort with a picture of a young mother' a delicate, 
suffering woman lying on straw? if 't were a man 't were bad 
enough, but a woman ! ' I did not answer him, of course too 


much encouragement for worse things but I rang for Judy to 
let us have dinner, and wrote an order for a bed. Coming 
away this morning I told her when it came it was to be put 
in Father Gerald's room, and that it was mine, so that if any 
one should ever come for that, she could kindly say I should 
send the bailiff after it. Her face was smiles from her cap 
down, and I have settled that matter satisfactorily, I think." 

I go to bed to dream of home and long dead scenes of 
childhood, to be aroused in the dusk of the Christmas morning 
by Jane's low-voiced " Merry Christmas, Miss Dolly ! We are all 
waiting for you ; we shall be late for Mass." I promise to be 
with them in a quarter of an hour, and hurry down stairs. The 
servants are all coming to Crusheen for the early Mass, Father 
Tom saying every year one of his three Masses for Uncle and 
Aunt Eva. Down the avenue through the white world, the 
light of the lanterns falling on the snow, we make a goodly 
cavalcade, leaving Kevin and Nell alone in Dungar. This 
Crusheen Mass has been for years a great Christmas feature, 
and is talked of for months after. This is the first time for 
generations that a relative of the Protestant Fortescues has 
gone with the family retainers to the Christmas Mass, and much 
comment and prophecy are the result on the road. 

I am on Princess Maud to keep myself warm, Barney, on 
his pony, leading the way through the darkness. Uncle Des- 
mond is standing in the lighted hall to meet us, and silently 
they all file into the oratory. Some one touches my arm, and 
i a wheedling tone a voice says : " Miss Dolly, will you tell 
the masther I want to receive this morning, and if he will spake 
a couple of words to Father Tom ? " 

It's that rogue Thade Darcy, and I am prepared for him. 
The women spoke of it coming. He never will go to confes- 
sion like every one else, but appears on Christmas morning at 
Crusheen, with a childlike air, begging to be "heard." Each 
year Father Tom vows and declares that never again shall he 
listen to that rascal if he does not come to the station, and 
just as regularly Thade arrives and conquers. I turn on him 
now, intending to wither him ; but his bland, witty answers 
are ready to quell every onslaught. I have a frightful strug- 
gle to keep solemn during the encounter, and in sheer despair 
hand him over to Uncle Desmond. He must have won again 
this time, for half an hour later he marches up to Holy Com- 
munion with the rest of us, with the most venerable, sanctified 
look, as if he were a veritable pillar of the church. Father 
Tom drives away for his second Mass in the chapel, and after 


breakfast we go in to the last Mass at eleven o'clock. The 
altar looks very plain and poor to my New York eyes no 
crib, but the atmosphere of peace and good will among the 
congregation has, after all, the true Christmas glow. We are 
overwhelmed with good wishes coming home, the whole parish 
wanting to offer them in person. We get Aunt Eva away by 
main force, as Nell and Kevin will be awaiting us at Crusheen, 
coming straight from church to meet us on our return. We 
have much amusement over our mutual surprises and presents. 
Uncle reads the names, and Kevin, with a characteristic speech 
and a bow that embraces all the room, presents them in a 
most ludicrous manner. 

We dine late, as the priests breakfast for the most part at 
one o'clock, and the evening is on the wane when they begin 
to gather ; Father Gerald arriving at the last moment, when 
we had given him up. He looks very tired, but brightens up 
as Kevin escorts him into the room, introducing him with deep 
solemnity to Rev. Fathers, Ladies, and Gentlemen as "his Lord- 
ship the Bishop of Crusheen," and taking his arm, leads in the 
procession to the dining-room. We take our places, old Father 
O'Connor and Kevin by mutual request being seated side by 
side, and then indeed we all shiver in our shoes, for now we 
know that for the rest of the night there will be no peace for 
the wicked, still less for the innocent. I open fire in a low 
tone on Father Gerald, giving him Kevin's account of his 
kindness to Mrs. Riordan. He is much amused as he de- 
scribes Judy's and Kevin's wrathful countenances and the lat- 
ter's denunciations, adding : " Fortescue is so indignant always 
at anything I do ; but we never hear of his acts. He does 
more hidden works of benevolence among the poor moun- 
taineers than ever any one dreams." 

"Father Gerald," I asked somewhat later, " do you never 
feel lonely away in your mountains without a congenial soul 
for months together ? " 

He looks at me with amused surprise. 

"Lonely?" he says. " I have never known what the feeling 
means. I have no time, in the first place, and in the second, 
I would not exchange my lot with any man living." 

"Yes," I respond, "but do you never long for some one 
to talk to you ? " 

" Talk ? Why I hear plenty of that all through the day. I 
have my own delightful self for miles in the saddle at morn- 
ing, and at night the most charming friends in my few books 
VOL. LXVI. 23 


only, unfortunately," with a wistful smile, " I get so little time 
to see them." 

"How do your days go so quickly? You at least ought to 
have time to read, I should think." 

" Well, here is a specimen of my days, and see what you 
can do with it: I had a sleep this morning till six, made my 
meditation, said my first Mass, read my office, heard confes- 
sions of the workmen who could not come yesterday ; then 
the parish Mass, baptisms, and several interviews on mixed 
questions ; rode six miles to the second chapel, confessions and 
Mass at eleven o'clock, and when all was over breakfast at one 
o'clock. Three sick-calls in different directions the last four 
miles from here and you saw what hour I arrived ; that is the 
ordinary Sunday's work many times out at night as well." 

While he speaks I look at his thin, worn face, and hair 
fast growing white, and then at Kevin's smooth, fresh, boyish 
one, and wonder no longer why Father Gerald looks ten instead 
of one year older than his lively friend. 

"But," I continue, "do you never weary of it all? The 
confessional now two whole days each week given up to it ! " 

" The confessional," with a far-off, ecstatic look, " is the 
greatest joy in my life. I never feel tired no matter how 
long I sit there. The wonder of being a medium of reconcili- 
ation between the Creator and creature is a daily and hourly 
consolation. I so often think, did we priests fully realize the 
power of the confessional the whole world would be converted. 
There is no life so even, so naturally happy as a priest's, were 
you " 

But Father O'Connor breaks in : " Father Gerald, I was in 
town yesterday and saw the vicar. As I was leaving he said, in 
a dry sort of tone: 'When have you seen Father Gerald? A 
promising young man that ; I am thinking of asking the bishop 
to send in his name to the university for the chair of Beg- 

Kevin is jubilant at this announcement, and the two wags 
come down on the crushed candidate of the unexpected honors. 
Aunt Eva joins forces with her nephew, and we all take up 
the gauntlet with spirit. The wit and banter are replaced later 
on, in the old drawing-room, by entrancing harmony ; Moore's 
Melodies ringing cheerily in duos, trios, and quartettes. Every 
one in Ireland has a musical soul, and we wind up the memor- 
able Christmas night with a grand chorus of " Auld Lang 




FTER fourteen a boy turns with set purpose away 
from childish things ; yet not to those of man- 
hood, for their significance is not yet grasped by 
him. What the innocent child cannot compre- 
hend, what the busy man drives from his mind, 
floods aimless youth with all the fascinations of novelty and 
seductions of unchallenged promise. Youth is the impressiona- 
ble period ; youth is the assimilative period ; youth stores up 
the physical, mental, and moral resources of a life-time, and if 
a man is to be reached from without at all it must be while 
he is still a youth. 

This is not a new doctrine. The first conqueror under- 
stood it when he put to death all his grown-up enemies and 
reserved the youth for future subjects. But the doctrine has 
lately obtained new prominence, because never before was the 
world in general so thoroughly aroused to the duty of uplift- 
ing humanity. This has been the business of the church all 
along; now it has become especially the business of those out- 
side the church, with the one distinction, that the church is 
seeking first the Kingdom of Heaven, while those who are 
merely strangers to her are bent upon the improvement of the 
world. Perhaps it would be aside from the point to ask 
whether their beneficent activity is one of those " great signs 
and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect," but this 
much is apparent, here as elsewhere : " the children of this 
world are wiser in their generation than the children of light." 
The watchword has been given all along the line of 
humanistic philanthropy : " Save the youth ; the youth saved 
is the man saved ; if the youth is neglected, the man is usually 
past saving." 

The word has been like seed sown in good soil, and the 
Kindergarten system, the University Settlement system, the 
Public Education system, the Protestant Sunday-School sys- 
tem, the Epworth League, the Society of Christian Endeavor, 
the Young Men's Christian Association, are some of the grand 
divisions in that mighty army whose marchings and counter- 
marchings fill the land with their reverberations, whose litera- 
ture has penetrated into every home, whose permanent and 


costly buildings adorn every city, whose acts are the concern 
of legislators, the food of popular discussion, the hope of 
fifty million hearts. The generation developed under these 
influences and firmly established in the principles of these 
organizations, is even now receiving into its hands the reins of 
government, the balance of social, political, and religious power. 
It is an essentially mundane and unspiritual generation. It 
takes off its hat to the school-house and remains covered when 
it passes the cross ; but its worldliness is kind. The situation 
is at once the most baffling and the most promising with which 
the church has had yet to deal. This noble, industrious, and 
true people seems ready for the perfection of a supernatural 
religion, yet refers to its good works and asks in all sincerity 
how it can be justified in exchanging them for the contrasting 
conditions to be found in the Catholic fold. 

" The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts," was 
Longfellow's refrain, but they proceed without logic and satisfy 
without conclusiveness. Youth sits like an idler in the city 
gate, welcoming every one and concerned with none. His 
reason is not active, critical, afrown with duty, but passive, 
nonchalant, emotional. Every Telemachus needs a Mentor, 
not to dominate his reason, never to force it, but to keep it 
awake, to supply the sense of accountability which youth lacks, 
to provide an antidote of truth for the sophistries of evil and 
a motive of loftiness against the suggestions of nature. In the 
attempts of non-Catholic humanitarians to meet this need the 
weakness of their position has been most evident, for not all 
the sciences and the arts, not all the fraternities and charities, 
not all the false philosophies and heretical theologies of human 
invention can satisfy the blind cravings of a soul whose ulti- 
mate destiny is that God who founded one church to be his 
witness and representative. 

So far has the deficiency been compensated by zeal, how- 
ever, that non-Catholic youth of fair breeding in America to- 
day are comparatively free from the grosser vices. Philanthro- 
pists have sought also to reform the vicious and depraved by 
high ideals of excellence. Social consciousness, proceeding 
with princely self-assurance from the American home and fos- 
tered by every variety of social organization, has been the chief 
instrument in their hands. Next to the supernatural, it is the 
most powerful defender of public morals, but in the vocabulary 
of the church such words as " classes " and " masses" are not to 
be found. She is admitted even by her enemies to be the loving 
mother of the poor, the ignorant, the social pariahs; her mater- 


nal anxiety does not deny responsibility for children whose 
betrayals of her are past expression, and she is so far removed 
from a system of class distinctions that she derives little aid 
from the influence of social consciousness. She is a supernatural 
society, sustained by the bond of faith. When this bond is 
properly conserved, no society can compare with her in unity 
and consciousness of unity. Catholics now, as when the Epis- 
tle to Diognetus was written eighteen hundred years ago, " are 
not distinguished from other men either by country or by lan- 
guage or by customs. They dwell both in Greek and barbar- 
ous cities, as the lot of each may be, following local customs 
as to raiment and food, but exhibiting withal a polity of their 
own, marvellous and truly incredible. They dwell in their own 
country, but as sojourners ; they share in everything as citizens, 
yet suffer everything as strangers. Every foreign land is to 
them a country, and every country a foreign land." 

A bad Catholic often becomes a worldling in the most pro- 
nounced degree, an Ishmaelite*, his hand against all men and 
all men's hands against him. From such are corrupt politicians 
recruited, and saloon-keepers, and the outlaws that walk the 
streets, and those who deal dishonestly in trade. To such, non- 
Catholics, decorous, law-abiding, punctilious of honor and self- 
respect, are always pointing with their query, " If for these you 
are responsible, how can you claim our allegiance?" But it is 
cheap invective to accuse the Church in America with default 
towards any af her subjects, when the field of her duties is so 
broad and the efforts of her teachers are so strenuous. 

A number of priests and laymen have come to feel it on 
their consciences of late to undertake something in behalf of 
youth between the ages of First Communion and mature young 
manhood. First Communion is itself a guarantee of the child's 
previous good training, and young men of established character 
find inspiration to high endeavor in their Lyceums, Institutes, 
Reading Circles, and the Summer-Schools. But one of those agi- 
tating the subject says that from the class of thirty in which he 
was prepared for First Communion, only thirteen have grown to 
be devoted Catholics, the others are more or less indifferent, and 
two or three are commonly reputed desperadoes. Each reader 
must decide how far this instance can be taken as representative. 
American church statistics are most unsatisfactory ; estimates of 
lapses from the faith vary, and the number of those who have 
received scarcely more than elementary religious instruction is 
equally past determination, although of supreme importance in a 
discussion of lapses, since the majority of them are due to lack 


of instruction. The private authority quoted above insists upon 
this truth : his fellow-communicants were left, like himself, to 
develop under non-Catholic and even non-Christian influences. 

Among remedies, catechetical instruction is as old as the 
church; its continuous use is proof of its value, and since the 
days when a heathen populace was diverted from its feverish 
amusements by the brilliancy of young Origen's teaching, the 
art has had many illustrious masters. It remains for America, 
which has taught the world in so many ways, to supplement 
past experience with new inventions for popularizing the truths 
of faith. The music and social charm of a Protestant Sunday- 
School, combined with the grading and discipline of a public 
secular school, afford the material which Catholic doctrine in- 
forms with a spiritual value, truly elevating it to a higher or- 
der of being. That this ideal is seldom realized in the religious 
education of Catholic children before First Communion, is a 
matter of regret; but a like system, strengthened and perfected 
with a view to the advanced religious education of Catholic 
youth, could be established in many places. A notable exam- 
ple is the Paulist Sunday-School, in New York City. The in- 
stitution was founded in 1859 by the Very Rev. A. F. Hewit, 
late Superior of the Paulist Fathers. It was in its beginning 
of such primitive character that the pupils were in need of 
guides along the rocky, goat-infested paths of that rugged 
island which is now so populous. To-day St. Michael's Chapel, 
occupying a space equal to that of the huge church above, con- 
taining a handsomely appointed sanctuary, a large pipe-organ, 
and the various mechanical devices necessary for the comfort 
of large numbers in class at the same time, adorned with paint- 
ings and tapestries and memorial windows, presents that com- 
bination which Father Hecker desired " to give the child's pic- 
ture-loving mind a better and more sublime idea of religion 
than years of reading and preaching can do." This chapel for 
the children is peopled, not one hour or one day but several 
times in the week, by an army varying from 1, 800 to 2,000. It 
is an imposing example of what the Catholic Sunday-School 
can be and should everywhere become for the sake of en- 
lightened, God-directed youth, and of patriotic, God-fearing 

The attractions of the Sunday-School, the thoroughness and 
scientific gradation of studies and the advanced classes in 
Christian doctrine, are its most notable features. Chief among 
the sources of attraction is the Children's Mass, with which 
Sunday exercises always begin. Books have been specially 


prepared which enable them to accompany with vocal prayer 
and song each step of the Divine Sacrifice. A recent convert 
to Catholicity has written of the scene : 

" I had been told beforehand that I would find there 1,800 
children, and therefore when I stood in a corner of St. Michael's 
Chapel and saw its vast space crowded, stretching so far away 
that children's faces were indistinct in the distance, I was not 
surprised, but I was awed. One single child is a mystery of 
love, and when 1,800 children are gathered in one broad room, 
and when all the saints and angels and mothers and fathers and 
other relatives who love those children have their hearts turned 
thither, then beyond any question the place is awe-inspiring. 
I was annoyed to think how often I had seen children in Pro- 
testant Sunday-Schools without being thus impressed with the 
majesty of childhood. I explained to myself that here were 
unity and peace such as I had never seen before, and I set 
about to inquire their origin. When the services began the 
great difference between this and Protestant Sunday-Schools 
possessed me in a warm flood of emotion: HE was there! In 
the Children's Mass, obedient to the call of the children's 
priest, the Blessed Son of God came down to be in company 
with the children He loves. Now all the clean clothes and bright 
faces, the quiet and order of the crowded Sunday-School, had 
a reason for being. Ungenerous indeed is the child who does 
not desire to become more pleasant and well-behaved for the 
sake of this Guest ! " 

That the children appreciate their privilege is attested by 
every visitor. Another, writing in the New York Sun, says : 
" Never have I assisted at Mass with such attention and recol- 
lection as the morning on which I first heard that service for 
the children in the Paulist Sunday-School." 

First Communion also, the event to which more than half 
of these children are still looking forward, is emphasized m its 
solemnity by the numbers participating. Rank after rank of 
boys in white military sashes, and of girls in appropriate bridal 
costumes, advance to the altar-rail or fall back to make room 
for others, and here, in their post-communion hymn, is perhaps 
the culmination of their devotional training, the perfected 
flower of the Sunday-School, as their limpid voices fill the lofty 
church with the triumphant song of a consecrated multitude. 
To one looking on from without, therefore, the religious 
features of the Sunday-School appear to constitute its most 
irresistible charm. Yet it is likely that in the imaginations 
of the first communicants their annual voyage to some wood- 


bound shore of the sea has a mighty sway ; it is for many the 
happiest day of their lives. Others are interested in the 
bountiful distributions of prizes from time to time, and the 
fortnightly issue of The Young Catholic, a magazine extensively 
used in this Sunday-School. The 'more advanced students have 
free use of a library of almost 2,000 volumes, including the 
latest and most popular literature of a wholesome nature which 
each year's market affords. They also find encouragement in 
the public honor roll, the promised diploma of graduation, and 
the possible gold medal of supreme merit. Consequently one 
is not so greatly surprised to learn that a place in the Sunday- 
School is eagerly coveted, and that graduates, far from out- 
growing the Sunday-School, are constantly making application 
for service as teachers, ready to come any distance or to make 
any sacrifice in order to fulfil the arduous duties of the posi- 
tion. Yet the lasting attraction must always be the thorough- 
ness of instruction which is made possible by the very numbers 
it calls forth. Children between six and ten years of age are 
put in the fourth grade, where they are taught to pray and are 
prepared for first confession. They meet on Sunday morning 
and Monday afternoon. The third grade is a year's course of 
two days each week, specially employed in preparation for First 
Communion and Confirmation. The second and first grades, 
with three classes each week, one of which is at night for the 
advantage of those who work, take children at an age when 
Catholic Sunday-Schools have been accustomed to drop them, 
and, for six years during the most critical period of life, absorb 
a large proportion of their leisure in the study of Catholic teach- 
ing, supplemented by doctrinal lectures, occasional exercise in 
composition, and the study of Scripture references. Besides the 
requisite age, fourteen years, entrance into the first grade is 
dependent also upon an examination whose problematic out- 
con\e supplies an effectual incentive to good work in the 
second grade. Exceptions are few to the rule that the best 
application of the entire course is expended upon the closing 
three years of advanced work. 

By this time all have learned to prize graduation as the 
highest honor of their youth, and their thoughts are taken from 
other channels not alone by study, but also by ardent antici- 
pation of the coming reward. To this general motive is added 
the special excitement of contest for the gold medals. Former- 
ly one medal was of silver, and markedly second to the first of 
gold, but the latter went so invariably to the girls that the 
boys lost ambition and interest. Now the first and second 


medals are both gold, almost of equal value, and the boys, 
with renewed hopes, have been able to take the first more 
than once since the change. So eager are these contests that 
many try each of the three years, with a view to insure final 
success. The voluntary examinations for medals are the most 
severe of all, for the questions are devised to afford tests of 
judgment as well as memory, and are based, not verbally but 
substantially, upon the text-books that have been used. The 
questions given during the term that closed in June last, both 
for the medals and for graduation, are appended : 


For what purpose were the feasts of our Lord instituted ? 

Can the church suppress holydays ? 

Why does the church command fasting ? 

Why has the church commanded that the Blessed Sacrament 
should be received at Easter time ? 

Does the Fifth Commandment forbid only the actual crime 
of taking away the life of our neighbor ? 

What are we commanded by the Fifth Commandment ? 

What does the Seventh Commandment forbid? 

Who is bound to make restitution or reparation? 

What does the Eighth Commandment forbid? 

How may we best guard against the sins of the tongue ? 

In how many ways may we sin ? 

When do we commit mortal sin ? 

In what does the malice of sin principally consist ? 

Is the good done in mortal sin useless ? 

In what does Christian virtue consist? 

Can people in the world lead a perfect life ? 

What means must a Christian use, let his condition be what 
it may, in order to obtain perfection ? 

What do we understand by the grace of God ? 

Does God give his grace to all men ? 

How long does sanctifying grace remain in the soul ? 

What is a good intention ? 

What means must we particularly use in order to obtain 
grace ? 

When did Christ give the commandment to baptize? 

Who can validly baptize ? 

What is the baptism of desire ? 


Is it ever lawful to destroy human life? 
When do we injure ourselves as to the life of our body? 
Give a statement of the dangerous vices which young peo- 
ple are obliged to guard against while attaining their growth ? 
When may we expose our life or our health to danger? 
State the duties required by the Fifth Commandment ? 


What is the distinction between theft and cheating ? 

Who has the obligation of making restitution for ill-gotten 
goods ? 

Give two examples showing the duty of restitution when 
there has been no robbery committed. 

Mention the sins forbidden by the Eighth Commandment. 

How can a Christian be contented, even in poverty ? 

When is an offence against the law of God not quite vol. 
untary ? 

What is meant by -infused virtue? 

Name the four principal moral virtues, and give an explan- 
ation of each one. 

Why should every Christian strive after perfection ? 

Which good works should be performed before all others ? 

For each contest the rule is enforced that full reasons must 
be given for every answer. " Yes " or " No " will not suffice. 
The schedule of credits extend to 1,500 for each paper, and 
over 1,400 has been frequently reached by zealous students. 
In ordinary class-work every lesson is limited to five questions, 
the answers to which must be known in sense as well as ver- 
bally. All in each grade have the same lesson at the same 
time, and the marking is uniform throughout two for each 
perfect answer, ten for attendance, and ten for good conduct. 
Each grade has a special examiner, who passes from class to 
class and requires a review of all the work done since the last 
visit. In the first grade monthly written examinations are re- 

One of the Paulist Fathers is the Director. Under him are 
grade superintendents, examiners, and various officers who 
meet the clerical and administrative demands of so extensive 
an organization. All these are representatives of the laity, and 
many are graduates of the Sunday-School. Consequently the 
success of the institution, in its length and breadth, is mainly 
due to lay co-operation, beginning with the parents at home, 
who teach the children their lessons and see that they attend 
all classes punctually, and ending with the grade superinten- 
dents, whose multiplex duties call for a high order of judg- 
ment, tact, and experience. 

Although the Paulist Sunday-School has been the subject 
of unremitting efforts towards perfection during the past thirty- 
seven years, its officers and teachers find new problems arise 
at every upward step ; these, also, have been reduced to sys- 
tematic treatment, and supplied fruitful topics for several con- 
ferences at the Champlain Summer-School. 

The Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., who has been for 


almost fifteen years Director of the Paulist Sunday-School, is 
well known for his distinguished services to both secular and 
religious education. He anticipates with enthusiasm a bright 
future for Sunday-Schools in the Church of America, and is 
always ready to give cordial aid to those interested in the 

It is expected that a series of conferences on Sunday- 
Schools and kindred means of safeguarding Catholic youth 
will be held in the Columbian Summer-School at Madison, 
Wisconsin, next year; the subject will also be treated in the 
Catholic press as occasion permits, and strong hopes are enter- 
tained that in the near future the good accomplished by such 
foundations as the Paulist Sunday-School will no longer be 
confined to a few isolated parishes, but will be included in the 
general plans of American Catholic education and philanthropy. 
The tens of millions who pray with the League of the Sacred 
Heart admire the wisdom which guides Pope Leo's world-wide 
solicitude in the selection of monthly general intentions. That 
for October was " Religious Instruction in our Schools," and 
American Catholics, who must pay a double education tax 
or else have their children taught in schools where God is ig- 
nored, are accustomed to offer prayers for the October inten- 
tion all the year round. For them, therefore, a special inter- 
est attaches to a Sunday-School which provides, on two or 
three days of the week, day and night classes for the full reli- 
gious education of its pupils, powerfully influencing education 
between the ages of six and seventeen, and generously equipping 
them for the fierce intellectual contests which lie in wait for 
every Catholic in a land where moderate education, with all 
the superficiality it implies, is the universal rule. 

Foes of the church still exist, inveterate as ever and active 
as ever, and as laymen supported the first ages of the church 
by their blood, becoming martyrs for Christ, so must the church 
be supported in this latter age by laymen with their intellects, 
becoming catechists for the salvation of their fellow-men. Thus 
alone, it seems, will America be converted to the faith. Mar- 
tyrs were not of the moment. Their preparation was long, 
studious, and prayerful. How much more should intellectual 
confessors study diligently and long in order to present them- 
selves "a living sacrifice to God," doing a " reasonable ser- 
vice," "sanctifying the Lord Christ in their hearts, being ready 
always to satisfy every one that asks a reason of that hope 
which is in them " ! 




BEGGAR at the door! 
"Come in," said Father Salvator. 
It was almost dark and the snow was falling. 
Only a moment before he had looked out upon 
the world, and through his mind had flashed those 
words of Faber : " There are good angels around us, graces are 
raining down upon us, great and small, and inspirations are fall- 
ing upon us as swiftly and silently as snow-flakes " and as he 
looked he saw the beggar. 

The man came in and, glancing calmly at his rags, said : 
"Could you give me an old coat?" 

" Could / give you an old Coat ? " 

When a question was asked him Father Salvator always 
repeated it, twisting his lips to one side and blinking his black 
eyes. He did it just for fun. It was so comical to watch 
* the face of the questioner, who could not guess what the an- 
swer would be. But this time the question echoed itself on his 
lips and the blinking of his eyes was involuntary. 

" I guess not," said the beggar. 

" Yes, I can," murmured Father Salvator. " I've got a coat 
a very nice coat. See, it hangs there." 

It did hang there, just home from the tailor's. Little Tom- 
my, Father Salvator's joy and sorrow, mischievous little red- 
headed boy, had just been hurried off to the shop to bring it 
home. Had Mr. Bonway, the tailor, known that Father Salva- 
tor was invited out to dine, that he had mended it so nicely, 
making a new coat out of an old one ? He could not efface 
the marks of age and weather on the shoulders of the coat, 
but he had put on a new collar of gros-grain silk and brushed the 
bread-crumbs and marshmallow powder from the deep pockets. 

"Tell Father Salvator I want no more candy and crumbs," 
he had said gruffly to little Tommy. And little Tommy had 
given the message. " Oh," said Father Salvator, " I must feed 
my birds and my babies ! " 

He walked over now and took the coat down. 

" I'd rather not take it," said the man, moved by something 
in the touch of the priest's hands upon the coat, 

" You must take it, my good man. To-morrow will be 


Christmas, and I could not bear to think that any one was 
wandering around our little town in need, as the Mother of 
my Lord wandered about Bethlehem." 

"What will you do?" 

Father Salvator smiled. In his long experience he had 
given many coats. It was the first time a beggar had asked 
him what he would do. He pointed to the fire. 

" I can sit here and toast my toes, and when the goose lays 
her golden egg I can buy a new one." 

He drew the coat well over the man's cold shoulders. 

"Good-night, sir; thank you," he said as he went out. 

Father Salvator watched him from the window. It was dark, 
but he could see the black figure in the snow. Then looking up, 
he saw the stars. To him there was a new wonder to-night in 
their silent shining. They seemed the trembling notes of the 
Gloria the angels were waiting to sing. As each note rang out 
in heaven a star would flash and fall in the twilight of dawn, 
and there would be " peace on earth to men of good will " ! 

At the last moment, Christmas afternoon, Father Salvator 
sent little Tommy with a note to Mrs. Kendrick, to say he 
could not come to dinner. 

Then he stood in his room, looking at the smoky walls, the 
frosted window-panes, the dusty books. He was disappointed 
that was a secret that, at least, he could not keep from him- 
self. He wondered if he could go without an overcoat. No ; 
he remembered that his teeth had chattered just crossing the 
street to the church, and now he saw the snow blowing along 
the garden like sheets on wash-day. On a little table stood his 
Christmas gifts. Purely ornamental they were the parish knew 
he always gave the useful ones away. There were books of 
poems and bottles of perfume and flowers. A bunch of red 
roses from one, and a branch of lilies from another ; and they 
were very sweet to him when one considered that Mrs. Ken- 
drick was the one and Agnes la Garde the other ! He took a 
lily in his chilly fingers, and peered at it through dusty spectacles. 

" A lily is not an overcoat," he said sadly. 

"Be sure to bring your flute," Mrs. Kendrick had written. 
" The major is coming, and we shall have some music." And 
he had even gone so far .as to take the flute down yesterday 
and dust it with an old silk handkerchief. He took it up now 
and put it to his lips, but the Christmas anthem which shiv- 
ered out upon the silence was dolorous indeed. 

"You poor little flute, I am sorry for you," murmured 


Father Salvator. " You love gay tunes and light hearts at 
Christmas. You are used to the yule log and holly, and you 
have not been wont to scorn a little drink of eggnog and 
to think that to-night you will not see your dear old friend 
the major's flute. What a jolly little thing the major's flute is ! 
You would almost think it had white curls and red cheeks and 
a well-rounded waistcoat, like the major ! Well, is not imita- 
tion the subtlest flattery ? 

" Are you like me ? Do you play my wrinkles, and my 
fierce black curls, and my heart-ache sometimes ? Poor little 
flute!" He laid it down and rubbed his eyes. 

The door was thrown open and Mrs. Kendrick appeared, 
with an army of invaders behind her. In self-defence, Father 
Salvator had to rub his eyes a little more. Mrs. Kendrick 
shook her finger playfully. 

"Which was it, your shoes or your coat?" she asked. 

" My coat," he answered, startled out of his usual reserve. 

Mr. McCaffrey appeared, holding up a coat and a pair of shoes. 

" We knew it was one or the other," said Mrs. McCaffrey. 

For a moment, then, they all stood silent. It was an in- 
vincible little regiment Mrs. Kendrick, with her lovely brown 
eyes bent reproachfully on the guilty one ; Mrs. McCaffrey, 
smiling her happy smile, which seemed never to have known a 
refusal ; Mr. McCaffrey, who was very grave when he felt gay 
and very gay when others felt grave ; and Rory McCarthy and 
Agnes la Garde, " seen and not heard," but always to be found 
in the face of the fire ! 

"The major is waiting," said Mrs. McCaffrey, as Rory held 
the coat for Father Salvator. 

" Follow the Little Corporal," said Mrs. Kendrick ; and Mrs. 
McCaffrey was proud of Mr. McCaffrey's resemblance to Napo- 
leon, if he was not. 

So Father Salvator, dazed and happy, was carried away like a 
king. He marched along the snowy streets with his noble guard. 

"Merry Christmas, father!" the ladies said as they passed. 

" Christmas gift, boss ! " said the darkies. 

Little children in sleighs shook branches of holly at him. 

"Now aren't you glad you came?" said Napoleon, twinkling 
his mischievous gray eyes. 

"Yes," said Father Salvator very softly, "but it is not the 
coat which warms me." 

"Is it the love?" murmured Mrs. McCaffrey. 

And Father Salvator only smiled. 





T order to appreciate rightly the effect of the Bull 
Apostolicce Cures in England, we ought to consider 

\\ the state of things into which it fell as a bolt 

8 from the blue. 

It must be remembered that the attitude of 
" English Churchmen " (it is difficult to know what expression 
to use, but this conveys what is meant fairly well) towards 
the subject of Orders has been very peculiar. It had been in- 
grained into generation upon generation of English Protestants, 
as they delighted to call themselves until of late, that their 
clergy differed altogether from the " Roman Priest." Those 
of us who are old enough, like the present writer, to remem- 
ber the religious education even of the " fifties," know how 
the notion of the clergyman was, at its highest (and it was 
with this that I was myself most familiar), that of a person who 
shared in what we called "the Apostolical Succession." But 
what that meant was a further and more difficult matter to de- 
cide. The one thing that men were careful to emphasize was 
that there was a " great difference " between an Anglican and 
a Roman priest. Most High-Church clergymen found it neces- 
sary to fall back on this fact, lest their people should turn 
round upon them and say, " Oh ! then you are leading us on 
towards Rome." As late as the " eighties " I remember hearing 
an Anglican bishop, considered to be as High as any in the 
whole Anglican community, preach in South Africa on the 
Priesthood, and lay tremendous emphasis on the assertion " not 
like the Roman priest, coming between man and his Maker." A 
fellow-clergyman remarked to me afterwards that he had thought 
that at any rate there was no difference between Rome and 
ourselves on the subject of the priesthood, however we might 
differ on other subjects. Probably the bishop would have 
agreed to some extent in private, but have pleaded that it was 
necessary to soften things down in public. 


Now the High Churchmen have fought this battle of the 


sacerdotal character of the ministry of the Church of England, 
and have fought it well, so far as fighting goes. They have been 
instilling it into their flocks from childhood upwards, that that 
ministry is a sacrificing priesthood. None but those who have 
taken part in the fray can form an adequate conception of the 
obloquy through which they have fought their way, and the 
patience and zeal which they have displayed. Their whole lives 
have, in many instances, been given up to this desire to in- 
troduce the conception of a sacrificial priesthood amongst their 
people. I am speaking not so much of the present generation 
as of a past. The present generation is, I am persuaded, en- 
tering upon a new, dangerous, and probably successful descent 
towards an agreement to be more tolerant. We, of the last 
generation, were not tolerant ; we had a faith for which to 
work and die, and we deliberately laid aside all chances of pre- 
ferment for the sweet sense of sacrifice on behalf of some 
great dogmatic truths. 

The result of this conflict for the maintenance of belief in 
a sacerdotal ministry is that the new generation have entered 
into the reward of past labors, and at the same time into spe- 
cial dangers. The burden of the priesthood has its dangers as 
well as its graces ; and where the graces of the true priest- 
hood are wanting, the dangers besetting those who suppose 
themselves to possess it are insurmountable. The idea of the 
" haughty prelate " is taken from real life ; and not less so the 
idea of the proud priest. But what are to be thought of the 
dangers of the idea of priesthood, where there is no system, no 
thought, of obedience such as exists in the Catholic Church? 
When vestments and all the accoutrements of the priest are 
assumed, and the whole thing is tolerated, and, since the Lin- 
coln judgment, excused as meaning nothing except to those 
who choose to attach a meaning to these trappings other 
than that of prettiness when there is not the same call 
for heart-searchings as to the responsibilities incurred, as 
was once the case when the enterprise was a new one any one 
can see that there is not the same likelihood of attention be- 
ing paid to a decision from the rest of Western Christendom 
(to put it gently) as when the whole enterprise was connected 
more closely with a consciousness that all eyes were upon the 
initiators and that corresponding conduct was expected.. This 
latter situation is apt to create a softer soil for the gentle but 
firm speech of such a Pontiff as Leo XIII. 


Further, it must be remembered that the whole idea of 
authority has suffered depravation during the last quarter of a 
century. There are few who have not heard such utterances 
as one that the present writer himself heard from the lips of 
an Oxford undergraduate, who was confronted with the fact 
that no bishop agreed with certain of his Ritualistic notions. 
" Oh, bother the bishops ! " was his only reply. This simply 
and really expresses the general attitude of the leading spirits 
among the forward party. Probably, with some, contempt has 
never enthroned itself in their hearts more imperiously than 
since the encyclical of the Lambeth Conference, when one 
hundred and ninety-four bishops, who profess to be the teach- 
ers of the Anglican communion, succeeded in wrapping up 
their thoughts on the subjects that are trying members of the 
Church of England so successfully that one is irresistibly re- 
minded of the " stone" for the " bread." But the whole life 
of the High-Church clergymen of the Church of England is 
perfectly unique in this matter of authority. Where in the 
whole of Christendom have the clergy such power to order 
the services of the church as they please ? A Catholic priest 
could only stare with amazement at the liberty these clergy- 
men possess to pursue their own way. I do not mean that 
they can always get their way, as the laity have at least the 
power of the purse. But there are many things in which the 
High-Church laity feel they have no right to interfere, and the 
bishop is the last person whom the clergy would think of con- 
sulting. As, for instance, as to whether what they believe to be 
the Blessed Sacrament shall be reserved, and when and where 
matters such as these are actually left to the individual clergyman ! 

Now, all this proceeds from, and at the same time en- 
courages, a tone of thought, a habit of mind, which would 
naturally unfit its possessor to listen with any ordinary docil- 
ity to such an utterance as the Bull Apostolica Curce. Yet 
these are the people who, if any, would naturally lead the 
way in giving fitting attention to such an utterance. The 
rest of the English people either quite agree with the Holy 
Father that Anglican clergymen are not sacrificing priests, 
because they consider there is nothing of the sort under the 
New Covenant, or else they view the matter with profound in- 
difference because they have in their own judgment got beyond 
the religion of ceremonies and sacrificial conceptions into the re- 
VOL. LXVI. 24 


ligion of the spirit, or because they see no sufficient evidence of 
the existence of a personal God, to whom sacrifice need be offered. 


Another point to be borne in mind is this, viz., that Angli- 
can clergymen have no treatises on such, subjects as De Sacra- 
mentis in genere, or concerning Holy Orders, to which they can 
turn as containing the authorized teaching of their church. 
Many of the highest churchmen amongst them know well the 
Catholic arguments for a sacrificial priesthood and (certainly in 
the last generation) have taught their people well on this sub- 
ject. They are themselves thoroughly and deeply convinced 
that there is a sacrificial priesthood in the New Covenant ; but 
as to the point where that priesthood is to be found, they 
are not nearly as well grounded in the very preliminaries of 
this question. They have not really studied it ; they have 
no settled principles on which to proceed ; they do not even, 
as a rule, concern themselves with it. Yet it is strange that 
they should not. For theirs is not the position of a Catholic. 
They cannot say they have Orders because they are in the 
church. They have always, of late years, set to work to prove 
that they are in the church because they have Orders. A few, 
of late, have attempted the Catholic argument. But the proof 
that the Church of England possesses the four marks of the 
Catholic Church does not really " catch on " ; you find people 
really falling back on the false theology of the consolation, 
"Well, we are sure we have Orders, and that is enough." The 
historical question, therefore, as to their Orders is vital to their 
case ; and it is therefore strange that they are not better 
posted up in that question. Moreover, it is necessary for them 
to maintain the utterly un-Catholic and illogical position that 
they can be as sure of a particular sacrament having been 
rightly consummated as that there are sacraments at all. For 
they cannot fall back on the Divine protection afforded to the 
church, since this would be to assume the point at issue, viz., 
that they are in the church. 

Again, and in this I can only speak of what was the case 
until a few years ago, with any certainty but recent events 
seem to show that the state of things is still the same noth- 
ing has been so iterated and reiterated as the assertion, " I 
know I am a priest, for I feel it. I experience the effects. My 
people feel that the sacraments I administer are realities "- 
which is simply the logic of the Methodist applied to the 
subject of the sacraments. 



Such was the state of things when the question of reunion 
made a fresh start. From circumstances which need not be 
entered into here, the subject of Anglican Orders came to the 
front in connection with that of Reunion. It was not the logi- 
cal order, but it became a matter of importance to settle the 
question, both because it had been pressed on Rome by cer- 
tain Anglicans and because the matter had awakened a special 
interest in France. Some French writers of conspicuous ability 
were (not unnaturally, as it seems to the present writer) misled 
into thinking that the question had not been authoritatively 
settled before, and, which was still more natural, they had no 
adequate conception of the real hatred for the Holy Mass 
which characterized the " Reformers" of the sixteenth century. 
I have before me a letter from one of these distinguished 
persons, which shows how he considers that a truer realization 
of this last fact would have supplied them with a key to the 
solution of the question, which only came into their hands 
when the Bull Apostolicce Curce was promulgated. One has only 
to compare the Sarum Missal with the Book of Common 
Prayer, and the animus of the compilers of this latter must be 
evident at once. 

Into this confused state of things came the Bull Apostoliccz 
Cur<z. It showed that the question of Anglican Orders had 
already been irrevocably decided with a care that left nothing 
to be desired. It reiterated the simple principle that a sacra- 
ment must signify what it effects. It laid down the law that 
the " form," or words closely connected with the matter, must 
contain the signification of that which is effected by the Sacra- 
ment of Orders, and that this signification could only be ac- 
complished by the mention of either the Order itself or the 
grace and power of the particular Order conferred. The An- 
glican Prayer-book, that is to say, the "form" in the Ordinal, 
did not comply with this condition ergo, the Orders conferred 
by it were null and void. 


No sooner was the Bull published than the Archbishop of 
Canterbury hastened to Hawarden, Mr. Gladstone's seat, hav- 
ing at once published a short critique of the Bull, in which 
he claimed for the Church of England all that Orders could 
procure for the Church of Rome, without, however, mentioning 
what those Orders do effect. As no one was ever able to dis- 
cover what the archbishop believed the Church of England did 


teach as to the. power and grace of Holy Orders, this was not 
calculated to advance matters, or to clear the atmosphere. A 
clergyman of the Church of England, who knows that communion 
through and through, told the present writer last year that 
Archbishop Benson believed in the Sacrifice of the Mass, but 
he thought it right and due to truth to withdraw his statement 
on the following day. However, the archbishop had struck 
the key-note which was to be followed, and having done this, 
owing in part (it is thought) to the excitement produced by 
the Bull, he breathed his last at the very moment when, ac- 
cording to some, he was receiving the absolution of the Church 
of England. It was in the public service, and many Anglicans 
have considered that the power of the keys is then exercised 
over the congregation in general and appropriated by those 
who have faith so to do. We may well believe that the good 
archbishop was making his act of contrition, and thus fortified 
passed happily to his particular judgment. 


The Archbishop of York soon took up the note struck by 
his brother of Canterbury. At the Church Congress at Shrews- 
bury nothing less than scorn was poured on all sides upon 
the " absurd" Bull. The archbishop, in the opening sermon, 
spoke of the present hierarchy of the Church of England as 
the successors even of St. Thomas of Canterbury and St. An- 
selm of the saint who in dying refused to say that he owed 
the spiritualities of his see to the king, and of the saint who 
braved another king's displeasure to obtain the Pall from Rome, 
and said that to " abjure the Vicar of Christ " speaking of the 
successor of Peter "is to abjure Christ." This tone of high and 
mighty contempt, resembling too much the shrill shriek of felt 
weakness, has been adopted on a large scale by the most ad- 
vanced section. " Absurd ! " " What ignorance ! " " The whole 
thing is folly." " What a pity the Pope allowed himself to be so 
misled ! " And not a few a fact I desire to emphasize as show- 
ing the lack of steady thought on the subject, not a few have 
said, " Well, whatever uncertainty I had before about the posi- 
tion of the Church of England has now gone. It is plain that 
Rome is not to be trusted." You hear it also said, " Every 
one knows that the Pope himself was favorably inclined towards 
Anglican Orders ; but his advisers were too many for him." 
A Catholic hardly knows how to contain himself at these ab- 
surdities. It is useless to protest; he knows nothing. "We 
are the people, we who are behind the scenes, we who have 


spent our fortnight or month in Rome we know all about the 
influences brought to bear." Yes, " influences " is a good word ; 
it settles everything, and the more so as it is impossible to de- 
fine, and still more impossible to substantiate the "influence." 

The Archbishop of York also started another line of de- 
fence, which has been adopted by every High-Church writer, 
without exception, who has dealt with the Bull. There is a 
logical trick, whereby we carefully prove what has never been 
denied, or disprove what has never been stated. I call it a 
trick, but I do not thereby mean to impute motives. It is, 
however, a positive fact that each Anglican writer, one after 
the other, has fallen into this same confusion of thought. 

The Archbishop of York spoke of Rome condemning her 
own Orders unintentionally, cutting off the branch on which 
she sat herself. For there are Ordinals in which one of the 
two " Papal" conditions of an adequate " form " is lacking 
one of the two. If we ask, is there any one in which both 
conditions are lacking, there is silence no instance has been 
given, and therefore no answer has been made to the Bull. One 
would have imagined that such contemptuous dealing with a 
document of such vast importance, which irrevocably deter- 
mines the attitude of Western Christendom, to say the least, 
towards Anglican Orders, I say, one would have thought that 
this high and mighty talk would have some careful argument 
at its back. But no ; this one fatal flaw, to speak of "no others, 
runs through all the High-Church answers so far. I will men- 
tion only the Guardian, the Church Times, Rev. F. W. Puller's 
tract, A Treatise on the Bull (Church Historical Society), the 
Church Quarterly Review (whose article is supposed to be by the 
Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Oxford), a published lec- 
ture by the Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Cambridge, a 
tract by Mr. Hall with Mr. Puller's imprimatur, and last, but 
not least, the "Answer of the Archbishops" to the Bull; these, 
one and all, split on the rock of ignoratio elenchi. The arch- 
bishops' pamphlet is certainly a remarkable little work remark- 
able both because it is probably the first time that the two 
archbishops have sent out a document of this kind at all, and 
because their graces have managed to mystify everybody, their 
own co-religionists included, on the all-important fact of the 
subject, viz., their teaching as to the Sacrifice of the Eucharist. 
The only thing that is quite clear is, that they do not teach the 
doctrine of the Council of Trent. The Church of England, so 
far as she is represented by her archbishops, is on the subject 
of Sacrifice in manifest heresy. 



But the reception of this document is not less striking than 
the document itself. A blank, significant silence concerning it 
was observed by the Lambeth Conference. That conference, it 
has been loudly asserted, is not a synod, nor a council; it is 
only a meeting of nearly two hundred bishops in conference. 
In a report of the conference, the fact that the archbishops had 
issued a document in answer to the Bull is stated, but no word 
of praise, acceptance, or welcome is allowed to pass the por- 
tals of that conference. The archbishops are not even thanked 
for a document which is addressed to the Catholic bishops 
throughout the globe, including, we suppose, the " Catholic 
bishops in communion with the Church of England," as the 
members of the Lambeth Conference call themselves, and 
which they have distributed all over the earth. It is a sin- 
gular situation. The efforts of the archbishops to " make 
clear for all time " the doctrine of the Church of England are 
not enthusiastically welcomed by those in communion therewith, 
not even seconded by one word of gratitude! And it is an open 
secret that some of the most leading divines of the High-Church 
party demurred to some statements in the MS. which seemed 
to exclude the doctrine of the Objective Presence, and that 
some phrases were in consequence rendered more vague and 
more comprehensive. 


Meanwhile the Bull has had the result of bringing many of 
the extreme section, most in sympathy with Rome, into closer 
amity with those less advanced than themselves. They will 
henceforth pretend to be at one, and possibly at length 
succeed: I use the word "pretend" advisedly, but rather from 
a Catholic point of view than from their own. For it is a 
mere pretence, that those who teach that our Lord is to be 
adored immediately on consecration and as long as the conse- 
crated elements remain, and those who teach that there is a 
Virtual Presence, but that too precise definitions as to the effect 
of consecration even to the extent under consideration are to 
be avoided, it is, I say, a mere pretence to say that these 
people are one in their faith. They are only proceeding to 
deprave the meaning of another sacred word, viz., unity. It is 
a healthier sign when there are men, as there used to be, who 
will suffer all rather than not proclaim the truth, and risk all 
possible disturbance sooner than let it be thought that such 


matters are relegated to the region of opinion, which is what 
this new platform of unity really means. Those who were at 
Oxford in the "sixties" will remember how Dr. Pusey wrote 
to Professor Stanley (as he was then), saying that he and those 
who symbolized with him had never worked for mere tolerance; 
and those who have read Newman's wonderful lecture, in his 
" Difficulties felt by Anglicans," on " The Church movement not 
in the direction of a party/' will feel that the old moorings 
are being forsaken. Dr. Pusey himself once called on 
Archbishop Tait and pointed out to him what disturbance his 
grace was fomenting by his policy in regard to the Athanasian 
Creed, which the archbishop would have liked to see disused. 
The archbishop replied that it was Dr. Pusey who made the 
disturbance by his resistance. If he would only make for 
peace, the thing would be done ; the Creed would disappear. 
But Dr. Pusey publicly proclaimed that his friendship with the 
Bishop of Salisbury (Moberley) was at an end after the line 
taken by the bishop on the Athanasian Creed ; and some of 
us were privileged to hear Canon Liddon's fine sermon from 
the university pulpit in which he announced that he should be 
obliged, so to speak, to cut the painter, if that Creed were 
touched. In like manner, some of us can remember how, when 
the same eloquent preacher was appointed Canon of St. Paul's, 
he let his friends know that on some ritual matters he was 
prepared for give and take, but that if the doctrine of the Objec- 
tive Presence in the Eucharist seemed to be assailed or obscured, 
no thought of peace or false unity must stand in the way of 
open resistance and real practical protest. 


But the Bull Apostolicce Curcz has supervened on an already 
debilitated system in the Church of England, and there is a 
tremendous rally round her for the moment. What wonder? 
The apologetics of the Church of England have, of late, taken 
.a turn which might well prepare us for such a phenomenon. 
In the beginning of the "Church Movement," as it is called, 
men had not cleared their minds as to the meaning of the 
Primacy of the See of Peter. There was hardly need to do so. 
Of late, the apologists have become more definite. Take, for 
instance, the literary career of the foremost apologist in one 
line, Dr. Bright of Oxford. Compare his first edition of his 
Church History with his recent writings. There was in that 
earlier writing a certain deference, a reverence, something 


almost approaching an enthusiasm for the See of Peter. Now 
he has thrown in his lot with those who trace the very term 
to an early copy (not forthcoming, nor ever mentioned by any 
contemporary writer) of a romance. Compare, again, his edition 
of the sermon of St. Leo the Great with the deliberate charges 
of intentional dishonesty which he now brings against the same 
saint. Or compare the tone of Mr. Puller's apologetic writings 
with those of earlier Oxford writers belonging to the more ad- 
vanced section of High Churchmen. It is as different as the poles 
are asunder from the tone of these latter. Although indulging 
in a ritual which Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest of that crew 
overthrew as incompatible with true Christianity, he is yet en- 
gaged in rehabilitating these hopeless Protestants. The old 
respect and reverence and love for Rome is fast evaporating, 
and instead, the critical spirit has entered in and taken pos- 
session not the spirit of criticism in which every Catholic 
feels himself at home, but that venturesome, rash, and over- 
bold mind which has no living authority in prospect, to whom 
conclusions are by anticipation submitted and sometimes even 
rudely checked. 

What wonder, I repeat, that the Bull should bring out the 
disease that lurks within ? It is a priceless boon that false 
notions of unity can no longer be encouraged. It is well, too r 
on our side, that we should not be working on the ground of 
false hopes. Whilst playing with friendly expressions, we 
might have failed to bring our fellow-countrymen one inch 
nearer the goal. We can now still use friendly expressions 
why should we not ? but their bearing will not be mistaken. 
We can now bear with misconceptions what else could we 
expect, when we consider the circumstances that preceded the 
Bull? but we can also do our best to remove them. 


There is one other move on the part of the Church of Eng- 
land which may have to play itself out, before the Bull will 
have had its full effects. The way in which some of the au- 
thorities have turned to the Russian Church is part and parcel 
of the subject on which I have undertaken to write. The Rus- 
sian authorities have been careful not to commit themselves,, 
but when an Archbishop of York arrives in their country with 
a commendatory letter from the Prince of Wales to the Czar 
of all the Russias, courtesies bordering on recognition are a 
natural sequel. Nothing, however, was done, as a Russian. 


priest occupying an important position informed me, which in 
any way compromises the Russian Church on the question of 
Anglican Orders. Some marks of respect, which in the West, 
at any rate amongst Catholics, would be taken for something 
approaching a recognition of a person's orders, can be indulged 
in by a Russian ecclesiastic without meaning anything of the 
kind. Indeed, the idea that what passed between the Archbishop 
of York and certain ecclesiastics in Russia amounted to any 
sort of judgment on the validity of Anglican Orders, was 
treated by a person in responsible position in Russia as noth- 
ing less than an absurdity. 

Nevertheless, the hopes of many an Anglican have undoubt- 
edly been raised ; and since it is not unlikely that the political 
atmosphere may favor seeming advances in the immediate 
future, such hopes must be taken into account in our estimate 
of the situation. The judgment passed upon the Church of 
England by a Russian who has had the best means of forming 
a judgment, was expressed to the present writer in the follow- 
ing words : " The Church of England does not present the 
features of a church ; she has no one, and no corporate body, 
that can expound her teaching ; she is a heap of heresies." 
And this she certainly would be found to be, if ever questions 
of doctrine came to be discussed. But, at present, one result 
of the Bull has been that the eyes of the Anglicans have been 
turned more steadily than ever away from Rome and towards 
the East. 


Does, then, all this mean that England is further from 
Rome since the promulgation of the Bull on Anglican Orders ? 
Will the distance between them go on widening and still 
widening? Why should it? The question of Orders touches a 
point in the Anglican system on which its supporters are 
naturally sensitive to the last degree, In the case of those 
who are so wedded to the system that it has become their all, 
of course it acts as a throw-back to all hopes of reunion. But 
in the case of those whose minds were, in any real sense, kept 
open to the truth, the Bull only clears the air. And whether 
these will be drawn into the fold, will depend, under God, on 
the energy and loving kindness with which we explain its prin- 
ciples, which they have so widely misunderstood, and above all, 
on the extent to which we succeed in leading them to study 
the question of authority. 


\ he bronzed pool lay seething in the sun, 
<And o'er it as a mantle, stained foul, 
Empoisoned slime its oily qet-Worl^ spun, 
The s^adoWs round dark deeperjirjg lil^e a coWl 

Breaking its slimy fetters, bursting, lo ! 

Prom out the thraldom of t\\e inl^y deep, 
<A stainless lily, white as driven snoW 

dream, of beauty from a troubled sleep. 


Who is she that comet h forth as the morning rising, fair as the moon, bright as the sun ?" 





HE recent appearance of what are called the 
''unpublished"* letters of Napoleon, covering 
the period from the Consulate to the final close 
of the Empire, has revived the interest in him 
which idolaters will not let sleep. It is said 
he reveals himself in these letters in a manner that places his 
genius beyond what his greatest admirers had imagined, and 
shows his character worse than his most bitter enemies could 
have made it. So many and various estimates have been writ- 
ten of his ability and disposition that these letters really en- 
able one to form a fair judgment of both ; not so much by 
what they actually disclose as from the fact that they can be 
read into his published despatches and his acts, that in these 
he is more in undress than in his published letters and his 
acts. The acts could be softened down by explanations, while 
the published letters were written with a regard for appearances. 
In these and in his acts France was his object France alone 
and her glory. Whatever ill-disposed persons might say about 
his ambition, it was all calumny. He was fond of using the 
word "calumny," he was also fond of using the word "out- 
rage " ; he was so sensitive this embodied will, so affectionately 
simple this inexorable intellect. 


What appeared to be ambition was the knowledge that 
he could do more for the power and glory of France than any 
other man. It was not his fault that he was so gifted. Destiny 
had a work for him. By him were to be realized the ideas 
of Caesar and of Charlemagne. To do this was his mission, and 
all antecedent history only led to this as its culminating point. 
What would be crimes in another were duties with him. 
The moralities that are necessary to others were but expedi- 
encies in his case. It is good for men to be guided by con- 
science, because stupidity is the inheritance of mankind. Their 
stupidity is so great that if there were no individual con- 
science men would run headlong into all kinds of folly. 

* Inedites. 


Society would be impossible. But for him, the reformer of 
society and the organizer of universal peace, there could be 
no such faculty it would only be a fatal embarrassment. 
" Ney knows as much about my affairs as the youngest drum- 
mer-boy in my army," expressed what he thought of the mar- 
shals and generals who could handle masses of men with a skill 
only less than h;s own. This self-confidence, this profound ego- 
tism, is not exaggerated. It appears in these letters, or rather in 
the history of his life seen in the strong light they cast upon it. 


Such an estimate as we have outlined here could not be 
gathered from the opinions of writers. No two of them agree. 
With some he is a domestic man of strong affections, possessing 
ordinary talent for affairs, but military talents of the highest 
order. With others he has no affections except such as inter- 
est approves, he is an intriguer without a particle of political 
talent, and his successful campaigns were due to the frenzy of 
his troops and the ability of his lieutenants. The Revolution 
made France an army, and he got hold of the army in the 
field when other men had made it accustomed to victory. The 
unenrolled army which was the nation was in a fever of 
anxiety to march to glory and plunder, and the army under 
arms was the best training depot for those enthusiasts. Re- 
cently he has figured as a devoted child of the church whom 
circumstances forced into opposition to her authority. The op- 
position was more apparent than real, we are informed, for he 
restored religion in France and died in the faith. He was hon- 
est to bluntness or a great dissimulator, according to the point 
of view ; he is a man of genius and a silly child combined ; he 
writes with the terse clearness of Caesar, he writes like a puffer 
of quack medicines. 

It is clear, however, that an obscure foreigner, educated at 
the king's expense, led her armies at an age when most men 
are still in college, obtained supreme power as the magistrate 
of the people before the earliest prime, seized supreme power 
as the master of the people in the first years of his prime, and 
that he held in this power an empire which, if you count the 
tributary kings and nations, was bounded by the English Chan- 
nel and the Mediterranean, the Atlantic and the inhospitable 
regions of eastern Europe. All the unflattering estimates of 
his ability may be put aside in the face of these facts. Noth- 
ing can account for them in a man who began without one of 


those aids which favor the rise of men in life nothing but the 
greatest genius. The quality of that genius is another thing, 
and so is his character. 


There are undoubtedly what appear to be great inconsis- 
tencies in his character. We have letters to his brothers when 
they sat on thrones, tragic in their pathos ; we have cruel- 
ties to young and old, the great and the mean, directed and 
sustained with a cold ferocity which shows that policy, not 
passion, inspired every one of them. This devoted child of the 
church had more of her prelates and priests in prison at one 
time than there have been under any European sovereign since 
the Tenth Persecution. He lied like a Cretan, and only told the 
truth, if it can be called the truth, when he intended to de- 
ceive. He had no more notion of personal honor than a pick- 
pocket, and yet he had the hardihood to write to Fouche, 
" Shut up Doctor Mayer, to teach him not to preach sentiments 
against honor." He had no more morals than a monkey. " In- 
vite Madame Talleyrand," he writes to her husband, " with 
four or five women, to meet him." This is the plan to enmesh 
the Prince of the Asturias one as old as Cataline, one as old 
as Pandar, one fully illustrated in the pages of Gil Bias. This 
ally of oppressed nations made the proposal to Pitt that he 
would send him the United Irishmen then in France, if Pitt 
would expel the emigre's from England. 

For all that he is a very 'interesting study. All the incon- 
sistencies may be referred to one root in his moral nature, his 
over-mastering egotism. He spoke of the old aristocracy with 
a furious scorn, but he was most anxious to have them about 
him in the Consular court, and later in the Imperial court. 
Fame was the breath of his nostrils ; everything he did and 
said was said and done with an eye to effect. He was an 
actor like the Richard III. of Shakspere, and one naturally 
wonders that the unpublished letters did not preserve more of 
the actor's perpetual consciousness of an audience. Still, as he 
saw things so clearly, like flashes of intuition, and since with 
him to see was to execute, to perceive to order, it may be that 
the rapidity of resolve hurried him out of the consciousness 
that the grand tier of posterity looked down upon the foot- 
lights. An actor may, to some extent, lose himself in his part 
though the audience is before him. 



We have in these letters a cynicism of active judgment that 
realizes and goes beyond the conception of Machiavelli. There 
is a good deal of disquisition in the " Prince." The atrocious 
policy by which an incarnate intelligence is to make a state 
prosperous pays morality the compliment of recognizing and 
even debating with it. It maybe contrary to morality to mur- 
der one's rivals in order to secure the throne, to make away 
not only with every opponent who has shown himself, but with 
any one that may possibly be an opponent ; yet it is the only 
way that the prince who has acquired power can preserve it. 
This is Machiavelli ; but Napoleon writes to General Clarke : 
" Shoot the burgomaster." He hears that an actor is dan- 
gerous ; he tells Fouch to have him whipped, "as all this 
riffraff deserves when it meddles with serious things." It 
did not do for an actor to engage in politics, and it would be 
waste of time to argue with a " difficult " burgomaster. 

IT 'Vv^'J /?t .!i:*v?,.-j>)O oj 'b ?;:: -."b '('::.' I ','- 

He grows upon us in some fascinating way with that fore- 
head of his, which recalls Cleopatra's "broad-fronted Caesar." 
He was in authority always. When, an unattached lieutenant 
of artillery, he sees the rabble before the Tuileries, he would 
sweep them away with grape-shot. Then the king; comes out 
on a balcony with a red cap and the canaille are frantic with 
enthusiasm. " That man is lost!" says the young lieutenant 
unattached, at sight of the red cap. It makes him oblivious of 
every memory, of the sixty kings, " that man's "predecessors, the 
procession so grand and mournful that passes through the 
vicissitudes of France : the long-haired Merovingians going back 
to Rome, the house of Pepin building again the Roman Empire, 
the keen Hugh Capet fashioned in the iron of the feudal age, 
the magnificent royalty of Valois, the soldierly qualities of the 
fourth Henry, the pride and splendor of the Great King. That 
man is lost, and so the young Corsican turns on his heel with 
no pity. Louis should have seen across the foul heads that 
yelled their enthusiasm to the man who could save him and 
the monarchy, but because, poor king ! he lacked a gift like 
omniscience he was lost, and with the epitaphic comment to be 
written " He deserves to be lost." 

This habit of authority ingrained we have in his attack on 
the Directory on the i8th Brumaire An VII., "fogarious " month 


of the new era, or, in Christian language, 9th of October, 1799. 
He was their officer, their servant, this General Bonaparte, but 
in the midst of his staff, when Bottot, the secretary of Barras, 
comes in, he fulminates against the triumvirate, privately sig- 
nalling to Bottot that the fires were not intended for his mas- 
ter. Fancy this man of thirty years of age, hatched in a Medi- 
terranean island a day or two after it came into the possession 
of France, brought up as a pensioner of the murdered king, de- 
livering himself in this way to his employers, even though they 
were only Directors of the Rousseauian republic, of the unclothed 
goddess of reason and the bedlam rout that worshipped her or 
it ; fancy this high comedy : "What have you done with that 
France which I left to you prosperous and glorious?" And so 
on in anticipative Bulwer-Lyttonese. 

We have some excellent fooling some five weeks later when 
he walks to the bar of the Councils at St. Cloud and tells 
them they are treading on a volcano, but that he and his 
brothers-in-arms will assist them. But a grand transition : " I am 
calumniated, I am compared to Cromwell, to Caesar." This is 
said in a rambling, broken manner ; he poses as the honest sol- 
dier, a plain, blunt man, "not accustomed to public speaking," 
as the great bores sublimely say at English dinners, as if this 
excused them for ruining men's digestions. It may be that he 
had a difficulty in speaking, for we give him the benefit of the 
possibility, since there were like exhibitions of a halting de- 
livery and disjointed rhetoric in the stormy scenes that pre- 
ceded the Consulate ; but allowing for the possibility, we observe 
that on this very occasion he could storm away, if not like the 
Titan Mirabeau, still like the Napoleon of later days, whose 
tantrums make his staff and his court look like whipped school- 
boys. Some one asked him, would he swear to the Constitution 
of the year III. " The Constitution !" he cries; "you violated 
it. ... All parties by turns have appealed to the Constitu- 
tion, and all parties by turns have violated it. As we cannot 
preserve the Constitution, let us, at least, preserve liberty and 
equality." It reminds one of Cromwell's retort when Sir Harry 
Vane appealed to Magna Charta : " Sir Harry Vane ! Sir Harry 
Vane! may the Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane!" All 
this rhodomontade is quoted by historians as proof of superla- 
tive resource, but the best part of their argument was in 
Cromwell's army and the devotion of Napoleon's soldiers to 
their general. 



It seems idle to suppose, as some writers do, that on such 
occasions Napoleon was taken by surprise ; for if one looks at 
this particular occasion itself, we have proof of the direct con- 
trary. All his friends feared he had ruined himself, that the 
Directory was too strong; he was quite confident that before 
the day was out they would see he had not. He was right, 
for on that night the Directory was at an end, and he presi- 
dent of the three consuls ; but we are slightly running before 
the hare. His accesses of fury were not necessarily simula- 
tions of passion, but there might have been something stagey 
in them. Probably the difference between him and the poten- 
tates and the great aristocracy of France, about whose bearing 
in all fortunes memoirs of the time tell so much, is that he 
lacked their "grand manner." He undoubtedly admired the 
manner and insisted on the observance of it in the relations 
of the sovereigns to himself. If they failed in one point of it, 
the occupation of a capital and the plunder of ;picture-galleries 
and pawn-offices would follow.* How he abused the aristocracy 
when it boycotted his court after its return under the Empire ! 
The ingrates, the paupers, the traitors ! It does not seem he 
feared those splendid nobles who had fled from the Revolution, 
but he knew as a body they had done cruel things with the 
grace that accompanied their kindest acts, and that any one 
of them would have bowed his neck under the guillotine as if 
he were bending before his queen. 

The conspiracy of the Consulate shows we were right in not 
attributing the rambling speech of Napoleon to confusion. 
Cromwell, when not mouthing from the Old Testament, splut- 
tered like a player who forgets his cue and rants the wrong 
part ; but he always found the cue before his close in some 
slaying of the Chanaanite, or in a picture of the " Man," that is, 
Charles I., as a wicked king to be cut off. Napoleon had forced 
an issue notwithstanding the broken speech, and as if he said 
with Marc Antony : Let it work. The evening of the day saw 
the Council of Elders decreeing that the Directory was at an 
end, and a provisional government of three consuls should be 
appointed. So far so good, but the Council of Five Hundred 
had the initiative and it was opposed to Napoleon, though its 
president was his brother Lucien. Lucien had stood loyally to 

* We think this infamous system of robbery, which did not spare the deposits of the poor, 
began under Napoleon with the Monte di Pietd of Milan. This may be the revolutionary 
meaning of equality for rich and poor. 
VOL. LXV1. 25 


his brother in the angry scene of that day, when deputies 
from every part of the house shouted " We will have no dicta- 
tor, no soldiers in the sanctuary of the laws." When Napoleon 
looked uncertain, his soldiers from the door cried out : " Let us 
save our general ! " He was rescued, of course, and the defeated 
council clamorously demanded that a vote of outlawry should 
be passed against him. Lucien refused to put the vote: "I 
cannot outlaw my own brother." It would seem that, although 
classic models were favored in those days, they were not always 
followed. Lucien, however, had the patriotic virtue to summon 
the council for that evening. He invited thirty members, all 
supporters of Napoleon, and so the act of the Council of 
Elders was ratified, and another constitution came to light. Is 
it apologetic wit that describes the thirty members as a minority 
of the Five Hundred ? 

When the three consuls met, Sieyes said they should have 
a president. " Who but the general should take the chair?" re- 
plied Ducos. In a moment Sieyes learned he had not a particle 
of influence. Napoleon stated his views of administration with 
the authority of a master. It is from this year VIII. of the 
new era, of the Romme Calendar, that the unpublished letters 


Caesar Borgia in the flesh may have been the Prince that 
took a disquisitive shape in the pages of Machiavelli ; but 
neither shadow nor substance, in our poor opinion, approaches 
within leagues the imperious will and fell intellect that in- 
formed the short, somewhat clumsy-looking person called 
Napoleon Bonaparte, or Buonaparte. If we find any more 
marked difference between him and other great and wicked 
men it is in his creed that mankind was stupid to idiocy. 
Whatever ability any one possessed was instrumental and de- 
partmental. This cold intelligence acted the opinion that the 
mind of man was a nervous force more active or more useful 
in some than others. The automata were only good when he 
pulled the strings. Yet this unsympathetic genius possessed an 
influence over his soldiers that Wolsey's word " magnetic " fails 
to convey. He was their god, in him France was an irresisti- 
ble might to which coalitions of kings and the powers of 
nature opposed themselves in vain. In his turn he cared for 
their wants, but not for their lives. 

They are nothing, no one is anything to him ; success is 


everything. As we have said, these letters remove obscurities 
from his acts, and send a new meaning into grandiloquent pas- 
sages of addresses and despatches. " I judge by my judg- 
ment and reason/' he wrote, " and not by the opinion of 
others"; and so strong and constant this confidence in his 
judgment that he trusted no one with his policy or his military 
plans. He directed his ministers in everything, from the prose- 
cution of a murderer to the details of a treaty with a great 
power. He directed the press, composed articles, invented 
news, inspired libels, criticised the opera, and sang his own 
praises. Yet he suspected independent praise as though it were 
irony. He boasted he could teach the whole College of Car- 
dinals theology. We need not be surprised, for the French of 
that day had a better guide to truth than Revelation, just as 
every Protestant plough-boy can expound you the Scriptures 
with more precision than the church. This one consul of 
three had the post-office as open as a book. If a general 
entertains at dinner a guest that he ought not, he learns that 
the consul knows it. A correspondent of some foreign prince 
receives letters, he is described in the choice vocabulary of the 
consul pending measures for change of air or residence. If a 
good-for-nothing printer visits Paris instead of publishing his 
folly at Marseilles, he becomes aware that he can neither 
sneeze, eat, nor drink without the consul's knowledge. Better 
the white glare of Marseilles than the stifling atmosphere of 


The emperor had little to learn from the consul. His reach 
was wider, but his tactics were the same as in France. No 
king could say a word that was not reported, and what "pigs" 
and " dastards" fell on the imperial paper when he wrote about 
them ! His spy system all over Europe was as perfect as in 
France ; and on his campaigns he held the thread of every 
movement as if he sat by the side of Fouche. Nay, he could 
send from half way across Europe information to that minis- 
ter. These argus eyes were everywhere. At the same time 
his police system was not to blunder over unnecessary things, 
for he wrote : "The art of the police is not to see that which 
is useless for it to see." He could also write, " Arrest so and so, 
and imprison him for so long " ; this, of course, when the police 
thought it was "useless" "to see" so and so. What men of 
constitutional experiences must admire about all this, was its 


indifference to forms. It was a step in advance or backward 
from the formalism of the Revolution. The patriots of that 
time took away your life under careful forms. It was as 
tenacious of them as Tiberius in his respect for the methods 
of the senate. Both attained their end as effectually as if they 
violated them. 

It was for centuries in Europe the practice to consider the 
Grand Turk was above the usages which guided the intercourse 
of nations. Ambassadors went to Constantinople very much 
as policemen go into a burglars' haunt, with life in their 
hands. The privileges of an ambassador were nothing in the 
eyes of Napoleon. " I am master in my own house." A recent 
writer describes this as magnificent ; we have heard the same 
about the seizure of the Duke d'Enghien in a friendly terri- 
tory and his assassination at Vincennes, but he makes a cor- 
rect criticism of these recently collected letters when he 
describes their style as that of command. They at times pos- 
sess a severe eloquence which may show the influence of 
Caesar's notes " from the seat of war," that most admirable 
combination of the official despatch for the present informa- 
tion of the Roman war office, as it were, with the military 
report to guide those who were to succeed him in the com- 

He gives an idea of how a despatch to a minister should 
be written by any official, from an ambassador down to an ex- 
aminer ; that it "should try to seize the minister's intention 
and not to make epigrams." His abuse of every one, from 
the pope to a wretched spy, is unsparing, and sometimes comi- 
cal enough, as when he says that Pouche* has "a spoiled head," 
and that General Morio "is a kind of ass that I despise." His 
brother Lucien is " nothing but a fool," Madame de Stael is 
"a - " the worst meaning that can be put upon coquine, 
in fact. There is another word for her that even the French 
editor suppresses. The next compliment that we shall refer to 
is not amusing: " The pope is a furious madman, and he must 
be shut up." And the pope was shut up ; but he went back to 
Rome, and Napoleon went to Elba and thence to St. Helena, 
from whose eyrie he could look out into the waters that had 
no shore-line, and reflect that beyond them the world went on 
as if he had never come to disturb the reverence for religion, 
the laws by which " stupid " men express their belief in the 
supremacy of conscience. 




'HE National Catholic Institute movement has had 
a marvellous growth during the two years of 
its existence. The regular vacation institutes 
of the second year were more than double in 
number the ones held the first year. The 
number of teachers in attendance was greater, and, in several 
cases, they were representatives from remote missions. The 
assistance and encouragement given by archbishops, bishops, 
and priests indicated the attitude of the church toward such 
work, and the Masses offered for it, the novenas said, all told 
that the movement had taken deep hold of the hearts of the 
teachers, and had received the approbation and blessing of the 
hierarchy of the church. 

The first vacation institute for 1897 began June 28, in 
Burlington, Vt., in the assembly room of St. Mary's Academy. 
Four orders of nuns were in attendance, two of which were 
from Canada. Right Rev. J. S. Michaud, D.D., began with an 
address outlining the work for the week, the relation of the 
institute to the teacher, and of both to the child and to God, 
and closed by welcoming the visiting sisters, the institute, and 
the instructors to the Burlington diocese. The aged bishop, 
Right Rev. L. De Goesbriand, D.D., visited the institute twice 
during the week and addressed the teachers on both occa- 

The Burlington institute was followed by others in Beatty, 
Wilkes-Barre, Scranton, Pa., New York, Rochester, Springfield, 
Fitchburg, Providence, Hartford, Putnam, Willimantic, and 
Chicago. At each institute the opening address, given by a 
bishop or a priest, was of sufficient worth to compensate the sis- 
ters for the toil and trouble incurred in being present. Another 
prominent feature of the work of each week was the Christian 
doctrine lesson, not on what to teach, but how to teach the 
children the great truths contained in the little catechism. It 
was a revelation to many to see a priest at the black-board, 
illustrating methods of teaching and making the application to 
lessons in the catechism. How to correlate the Christian 
doctrine work with all the other work of school and home, how 
to utilize nature study, literature, art, music, and history, in 


making stronger and better the work in the catechism classes, 
was brought out clearly in this department of the work. 

Rochester and. Chicago were graded institutes. In the 
Rochester institute, besides the Christian doctrine work, special 
attention was given to English, drawing, and nature study. 
There were thVee instructors for the department of English, 
three for drawing, and three for nature study. Primary work, 
geography, mathematics, and music will be given special atten- 
tion in 1898. In the Chicago institute the departments made 
prominent were Christian doctrine, primary work, drawing, 
nature study, geography, and history. Mathematics, English, 
and music will receive special attention next year. In the 
other institutes, where single sessions were held, certain groups 
of subjects were made prominent, as in the graded institutes. 

The body of teachers now organized into an institute faculty 
for the purpose of establishing and conducting institutes for 
the teachers in our Catholic schools, is second to no other such 
organization in the country. The worth of their work has 
been tested and the results are sufficient evidence of their 
fitness. Engagements are now made for institutes for 1898 in 
Wilkes-Barre, Beatty, Rochester, New York, Chicago, St. Louis, 
Providence, Ogdensburg, Burlington, Springfield, Fitchburg, 
Hartford, Scranton, and several other cities. 

The educational value of having members of different 
orders meet together as teachers is recognized by all, and by 
none more so than by the teachers themselves. They earnestly 
desire union and unity in their work. The kindly telegrams 
sent from institute to institute, carrying heartfelt greetings 
from one meeting to another, were evidences of the interest they 
take in each other's work, and of the desire that in educational 
matters they should all be one. 

Expressions voicing desires were often heard during the 
last days of an institute, such as that we might all meet again, 
that teachers coming from different schools and different sec- 
tions of country brought to such meetings the trend of educa- 
tional thought from their own localities, and thus each contri- 
buted to the common good and gained for herself new ideas 
from others. Another lesson plainly exemplified by these great 
educational meetings is that the one who receives the most 
benefit is the one who comes with the intention of contributing 
from her treasures something of educational wealth to others, 
giving freely and generously for God and humanity. The spirit 
of the movement has permeated our teachers in such a manner 





S" s *> 





that it can never die ; nay, the spirit has always lived in the 
hearts of true teachers ; this marvellous growth would not, nor 
could not have taken place in so short a time only that the 
teachers were ready and responsive. It is a mistaken idea that 
the mission of the institute is to waken the dead ; its work is 
to aid the living, and it has found a welcome and an abiding 
place only in the minds and souls of those who are real 
teachers, who are active, progressive, growing educators. 

One reverend mother, who is a far-seeing woman and has 
had years of experience in governing and guiding, said, at 
the close of one of the largest institutes last summer: "'f'he 
institute is as necessary to the teacher as the retreat is to the 
religious." The National Catholic Institute movement is 
destined to live and become a power in the educational life of 
the nation. Not alone because it is well organized and well 
planned, and the workers are earnest, capable, and zealous, but 
for the reason that the times demand the work and God wills it. 
It is a grand sight to see the teachers assembled at one of 
these institutes, to have the privilege of looking into the faces 
of hundreds of women who have consecrated their lives to the 
work of teaching. When many are brought together, all work- 
ing for a common cause with a common motive, what enthu- 
siasm is aroused, what power is engendered, and how far- 
reaching the consequences ! Last year the movement knocked 
at school-room doors for admittance ; to-day it is within the 
walls and working. 



might appear from the title of this paper that 
we intend to offer a few moral platitudes on 
the relations between the clergy and the working 
classes. Men looking merely at the surface are 
ready to think that the Church consists of the 
clergy, and perhaps some pious and charitable laymen who work 
with the clergy. We mean a good deal more by the word 
Church, even as a social fact and instrument of social reforma- 
tion ; we mean that divine society which manifests itself in an 
organization of men, priests and laymen that society the 
reason of whose being is holiness and love, and whose ac- 
tivity is exercised in the promotion of them. Consequently if 
we offer one or two suggestions concerning social work that 
may be done under the guidance of the clergy, we are doing no 
more than reminding both clergy and laity of their obligations. 
We do no more than show them fields where zeal and charity 
will find room for exercise without adding to the burdens of 
life, but an exercise which will be good for themselves as in- 
dividuals and of advantage to all within the sphere of their 

That our view cannot be deemed sectarian may be inferred 
from the fact that this article has been, to some extent, sug- 
gested by a visit to what is known as the Mills Hotel, in this 
city. We inferred from that visit that it was not so much the 
amount of money as the judicious expenditure of it that was 
needed for the work of social improvement. For instance, if a 
commercial speculation could succeed by bringing within the 
reach of poor people conveniences and comforts which ordinarily 
would be deemed unattainable, then voluntary associations 
could handle resources at their disposal with a success not 
previously considered practicable. As we said, we are not 
sectarian. We sympathize with everything that is wisely done 
for the benefit of the poor and industrial classes. The work of 
social improvement emanating from any honest source may 
demand the active assistance of the clergy and laitj because 
of their obligation to promote love and holiness among man- 
kind. They are the Church in its manifestation ; but we 
desire it to be not a half-paralyzed body, but one working 





from the impulse of the life within, which is the Spirit of God. 
In saying this we are stating what may be regarded as empty 
sound, or a sonorous mouthing of what is within the knowledge 
of every little child of Holy Church. This may be superficially 
correct, but it is only superficially correct ; the Church is 


charged with indifference to the welfare of the working classes. 
It is to this charge our mouthing, if critics so please, is directed. 
We deny that the Church was ever unmindful of the less pros- 
perous elements of society ; we deny, too, that her awakened 
interest in the working classes springs from the fear that her 
influence is seriously endangered. She is no respecter of per- 
sons ; she emancipated the slave directly where she had the 
power, she wrought out his emancipation, sometimes by great 
sacrifice, where her power was only a moral one. In her hands 
the serf of the soil became a freeman, priest, and pope, when 
great men would have kept him for ever on the soil. The 
sharpest conflicts of the Church with the temporal power every- 
where over Europe were on the claim advanced by her that a 
serf or a serf's son, by becoming a cleric, became a free man. 
No doubt writers opposed to the Church charge her with 
aggression, spiritual tyranny, and violence to conscience for 
putting forth such claims, and they praise the spirit which 
caused king and lord to resist them. Now we, as friends of 
personal as well as political liberty, think it was a good 
thing that the peasant escaped from the knife of the porter's 
lodge, the scourge, from the manorial justice of pit and gal- 
lows to the monastery hard by, where he became a student, a 
monk, a ruler of men in some great see or in the supreme see 
of all. We prefer such a life as that developed for him to 
the recovery of him by his lord, whether obtained by the sh'arp 
scent of blood-hounds or by surrender from a violated sanc- 
tuary. We beg, with the greatest submission, to differ from our 
non-Catholic friends on this point. 

If there has been apathy on the part of the clergy and well- 
to-do among the laity we do not believe there has been,- if 
there has been what appears to be that, it may be accounted 
for by the Church's struggle for existence in this country. That 
is decided in her favor ; she has attained a vigorous life. But 
she is the Church of the poor, and the work of all who have 
the means and leisure should be to lift the poor to a religious 
life. This can be effectually done by supplying the motives 
through the uses of an improved social life. This will be the 
best refutation of the charge of indifference to their welfare. 
Certain leaders of the industrial classes regard religion as the 
antagonist of the rights of labor. An appeal to historical 
testimony does not avail with them. They ask for results 
now and here, and shrug their shoulders at proofs from the 
past. Socialist leaders are not without a following, and be- 


yond their following their opinions go out that religious work is 
in conflict with social work. They point to the sects, a large 
part of whose activity seems to be expended in unsympathetic 
charity and the promulgation of theories that are implicitly 
based upon the inferiority of labor as a status compared with 
capital. The rights of wealth are so prominent in the utter- 
ances of ministers that labor appears to be without rights. But, 
with a delicate flattery, it is insinuated that capital has religious 
duties springing from the law of charity. It is graceful for the 
rich to be considerate and compassionate, something like the 
principle noblesse oblige, but there is no moral claim upon them. 
Now, clearly this explains the notion that religious work is an- 
tagonistic to social work, because there is no morality in the 
religion which takes this attitude. 

But if the Church, which sanctifies morality, which expresses 
the character of every moral principle in unmistakable language, 
which takes moral principles out of the natural plane, elevates 
and sanctifies them, and declares that they are the advocates or 
accusers of each man, where no interested formulas of depen- 
dent preachers shall be allowed to obscure the eternal issue- if 
she holds aloof from the work of social improvement, no one 
can blame the socialist for his opinions, and no one need be sur- 
prised that they find a lodgment in so many minds. There is 
one field, however, where her efforts must have fair play : that 
is, among her own children wavering between the blind theories 
of socialism, the temptations springing from a dwarfed exist- 
ence, and a belief in her teachings. It is so hard to reconcile 
with the goodness of God, as presented in the Church's teach- 
ings, the manifold facts which make up a maimed, distorted life. 
The spirit of the age, as we have it in books and platform pro- 
nouncements, demands the largest measure of life for the in- 
dividual. The demand is not a restricted one. It is not con- 
fined to a favored class. Every one is entitled to an equal 
measure of political rights, and equally to pursue the way to 
happiness. The Church is an organization of infinite strength 
and flexibility. Her opponents admit that she is a great moral 
force working in the interests of order. That is admitted here, 
it is admitted in France and Germany by her most malignant 
enemies. We do not care a straw for the inconsistency of those 
who admit her conserving power, but try to destroy it. Their 
testimony is enough. Now, we say that she has a great field 
among her own children, whether they are loyal or discontented, 
whether they bow to her words or sulk in the byways a 

1 897.] 




great field for activity along those lines of amelioration which 
the spirit of the age demands. 

It is not ours to quarrel with that spirit. We cannot 
quarrel with it. The way that spirit is described reads 
like inflated rhetoric, but it expresses, in a vague way no 
doubt, but in some sense, a law long hidden, but written in 
men's hearts from the begin- 
ning. Servitude covered it 
up, the freaks of ambition and 
power ignored it ; but when 
the Lord Christ preached the 
brotherhood of man and sealed 
the doctrine with his blood, 
those who heard it recognized 
it as something that they had 
within them, but which was il- 
legible, or it may be inarticu- 
late, till then. With this 
teaching what we have called 
the demand of the age, when 
properly explained, -is consis- 
tent, and is the only consis- 
tent demand. There must be 
moral equality among breth- 
ren, there must be universal 
rights and duties among them ; 
it cannot be that the rich alone 
have the rights, and that the poor are to be dependent on their 
consideration, their good feeling. Consideration a scornful mood ! 
good feeling an accident of weather ! The spirit of the age, 
restricted by our meaning, speaks the moral and material needs 
of men. Even in the unrestricted shape of the socialist or the 
anarchist, the principle, though it be of the earth earthy, 
it is still the cry of the oppressed to Heaven. Men may 
assail the Church, they may confound her with their enemies 
and hers, they may say that her doctrines paralyze the brain 
and rob the hands of half their strength. What of it ? Who 
heeds the ravings of despair ? Lawless opinions, wild theories, 
blasphemies in the form of formulas of justice, are like the in- 
articulate cries of wounded beasts. Those who have no com- 
passion for them, who invoke the resources of civilization, as 
the phrase is, to cope with them, are pharisees. This is not the 
way the Church's Founder looks at them ; she cannot look at 



them in this way. Then those who represent her in the work 
of life, her priests, her faithful laymen, cannot, dare not be 
without a great pity for those unhappy souls whom the condi- 
tions of existence have so maddened. 

The resources of religion are derived from the poor. The 
few Catholics of wealth, together with the Catholics that are 
in easy circumstances, could not have supplied a twentieth of 
the wealth which is fixed in church buildings, religious houses, 
institutions. We wish it to be understood that the wealthiest 
Catholic in this country possesses only what would be counted 
a mere percentage on the means of thousands of non-Catholics, 
that among well-to-do people Catholics are only an infinitesi- 
mal number, and that well-to-do Catholics are only a recogniz- 
able fragment of their own creed. This is no doubt known to 
themselves ; this is, we think, why a good deal of philanthropy 
among Catholics aims at a fashionable advertisement, as some 
of it most unquestionably is a business advertisement. This 
we do not want ; but at the same time we do want Catholic 
philanthropy to manifest itself with conspicuous success, and we 
believe it can be done. 

The motive is the impelling power. In proportion to the 
purity of the motives will be the work accomplished in helping 
those to whom help at this moment means the value of a life, 
in helping those who have fallen to recover their feet, in 
taking out of the dark places of cities the thousands who live 
in death while waiting death ; in finding out the other thousands 
who lie on door-steps, on quays, or hide in blind alleys, or 
prowl about seeking some one they may rob those, the 
socially lost, the worst of all the classes, whose existence is a 
blot upon the sunshine, a danger in the atmosphere, and which 
will be a load upon the earth until they lie beneath it. The 
problem is not insoluble. 

Its solution has been attempted in London with encourag- 
ing results. The awakening of England to the condition of the 
London poor has displayed itself in several independent move- 
ments. The Establishment has entered into the work with com- 
mendable zeal ; but besides the efforts of her ministers, there is 
the movement from the universities, there are the movements 
to diffuse sound political and economic knowledge by means of 
lectures, the movement to establish labor clubs, reading rooms, 
and a variety of other methods to develop and increase taste 
and technical skill among the industrial classes. All this tends 
to elevate their condition. 


The fitness of the priests for work of this kind we hold to 
be assured. They are not inferior in capacity and knowledge 
to the graduates of Oxford and Cambridge. Their parochial 
duties come first, and these, no doubt, are exacting, but there 
must be some spare time that can be devoted to social work. 
Take an instance of what energy may accomplish. The work 
of the Establishment in East London had been neglected in a 
way that cannot be sufficiently condemned. The activity which 
took its rise from the Oxford movement, in 1840, had to face 
difficulties as great as those that would confront the priests and 
charitable laity of New York at the present moment. If the 
American church enters on the work of social improvement, 
she does so with advantages that no other influence possesses, 
because she is a part of that living body we call the Church. 
What she may do in this path is done by a perfect machinery, 
and not by spasmodic flashes of enthusiasm. We are not under- 
rating the labor of others, we give credit to the young men 
whom the Oxford movement inspired with a zeal in the cause of 
humanity, we readily acknowledge the exertions of the Dissent- 
ing bodies, but we doubt the abundance of the spring from which 
their activity proceeds. It seems to us that the co-operation of 
these men in social work is held together by the frail tie of 
voluntary alliance. In the case of the Oxford men the union 
is based on somewhat approximate views of doctrine and duty ; 
it is the elastic band of common memories and training. As 
we have said, they had difficulties. They began with the sense 
of all that was selfish, old-fashioned, and traditionally Protestant 
in the Establishment against them. They were distrusted as 
innovators by every vicar and perpetual curate who droned 
away the lessons once a week to empty churches, and to 
whom the poor were as great an offence as the Dissenting 
ministers, to hear whose attacks upon the Establishment they 
went as they might go to hear an ultra Radical or a Chartist 

But the work of these young enthusiasts was productive. It 
did good in all directions among Protestants. It forced the 
Broad Church party in the Establishment to put in practice 
their opinion that doctrine was not of so much consequence as 
godly life, or at least externally respectable life. It stimu- 
lated the Dissenting ministers to exertion to vindicate the reason 
of their existence. We say, when they accomplished so much 
the Church in the great cities of the United States in this great 
city of New York, can do more. 


We insist that it must be borne in mind that the Church is 
a perfect society, a body all whose parts are bound together 
in union of life ; so that if she gives her approval through her 
constituted authorities to work of this kind, the spirit which 
so often changed the world will change the face of cities now. 
It is only comparing with the work of accidental aggregates of 
individuals her work when we speak of her in the same breath 
with the non-Catholic bodies. We do not possess the wealth 
of these, but that is counterbalanced by the fact of an organ- 
ization behind us that can do anything, a zeal that is more 
than enthusiasm the moment it is called into play. We are not 
preaching, we are stating sociological facts, aspects of the 
Church's relation as a perfect society to the political society in 
which we live. 

Hence we presume that our younger clergy, at least, are 
pervaded with the conviction that the social obligations issuing 
out of the Christian dispensation are meant for life and not 
for speculation. Duties annexed to humanity might afford a 
Greek philosopher a subject on which to exercise his dialectic 
skill before his school ; or to Cicero, supping with Lucullus, it 
might be olives to the Falernian to spout about the humanity 
which his host's slaves shared with that fortunate proconsul. 
But it would bear no seed, it would harm nobody, and so his 
splendid host could pass it by with the thought that if his 
guest were not insane, he was only worshipping Bacchus under 
his name of Liber. 

There is a moral equality springing of necessity from our 
holy religion ; but in its social aspect it must be regarded with 
judicious mind and not travestied into theories that violate, in 
the name of justice, the rights of society and of our fellow- 
men. But all men have rights against society and against each 
other. A contract between employer and workmen does not 
terminate the relations between them. No class of the people 
is made for the dire poverty that entails the misery and degra- 
dation from which alarming consequences to society must follow 
sooner or later. All classes are entitled as of right to some 
degree of comfort, of education, of moral and religious train- 
ing. We are speaking of social e4ements now ; we are not 
speaking of the thief, the drunkard, the libertine, or the des- 
perate criminal who has no regard for the sanctity of life. 

For the social elements down each level there are moral 
and economic means of elevation available in the Church. 
Wealth is not so necessary as organization that will wisely em- 





ploy the resources at hand. In time a healthy public opinion 
will be formed in which the dignity of labor will be recognized, 
in which virtue alone will be deemed aristocracy, in which an 
honest man who supports his family by his work in factory, or 
railway, or mine will be looked upon as better than the master 
who has grown rich by grinding the faces of his factory hands, 
better than the railway directors who have cleared out 
small share-holders by their fraud, better than the mine-owner 
who has amassed a fortune, not out of the coal only but out 
of the lives of his employees. 

As we have already said, in dealing with these classes the 
Church possesses in her organization advantages incomparably 
greater than the sects. The success of the Oxford men referred 
to above is useful as an instance of what zealous and united 
work can effect. It was due in large part to their fearlessness ; 
they attacked selfishness and cruelty with the courage belong- 
ing to their class. But the Church is no respecter of persons, 
and because of this there is not a young priest who, if he saw 
VOL. LXVI. 26 


his way to do good, would spare effort out of consideration for 
wealth or social prestige or influence of any kind. If there be 
any such, he is a hireling who has entered the fold by scaling 
the wall. With him we have nothing to do. 

Persons outside the Church, as we have already said, are 
beginning to respect her power as a great social instrument. 
Of this there is no doubt. We learn that the Catholic clergy 
are esteemed by all non-Catholics who come across them. We 
are not bidding for support outside the Church, but it is well 
to have in this country a body of men who dare not condone 
plunder or polygamy ; who are bound by their order to main- 
tain that honesty can in no way be violated without sin, and 
that pardon for such sin cannot be had until restitution shall 
have been made ; who are bound by their order to uphold the 
purity of married life and what follows from this, the preserva- 
tion of the family, that unit which Aristotle calls the basis of 
the state. Let polygamy be called divorce and legalized ten 
thousand times, no priest can countenance it ; let robbery build 
palaces and hospitals, no priest can pronounce absolution for 
it until justice has been satisfied. So we cannot have amongst 
us pharisees giving an alms out of the spoils of the poor, nor 
fraudulent philanthropists sitting in the first places in the syna- 
gogue, not even a frail beauty masquerading among decent 
women with the third man she calls her husband. We may be 
poor. Ours is the Church of the poor ; but it is the Church of 
the Lord Christ too, and inspired by something of His love for 
mankind, she should be able to do great things for the benefit of 
man even apart from the religious work which is her proper 

That fearlessness which the priest must possess, and which 
he can infuse into laymen working with him for social purposes, 
is one great factor in producing success. Organized work, 
where labor is well divided, is another ; the funds are another 
still. This last must be within reach. The Church in the United 
States has not risen, like Ilion, from the sound of music. No 
witches' withered leaves could have paid for cathedrals, semi- 
naries, colleges, convents, orphanages, asylums of all kinds. 
The society of St. Vincent de Paul expends a large amount 
annually in this city. Between clothing, cash, and food ten 
thousand dollars have been expended in one year in the parish 
of St. Paul. We are, therefore, very clearly of opinion that the 
liberality of our people will supply every fair call upon it ; 
but we hope that the call shall be fair. 

1 897.] 



This fairness will be secured by the co-operation of the laity 
as trustees to some extent and workers to the entire extent. 
The priest can, after all, be no more than a counsellor in the 
different kinds of social work. But the work itself, whether it 
concerns itself in planning a man's club or a woman's club, a 
library, a debating society, 
a reading-room ; whether it 
engages in building enter- 
prises to secure sanitary 
homes at reasonable rents 
and under conditions in 
which life may broaden out 
healthily, must be done by 
well-to-do and leisured lay- 

We may enter into this 
subject in greater detail in 
another issue. For the pre- 
sent we shall be content 
with giving the instance of 
the parish of St. George, 
Camberwell, London. We, 
of course, are speaking of 
the parish of the Establish- 
ment, but as it in its 
general features resembles 
the larger parishes of this 
city, it is an instance im- 
mediately in point. At one 
time its religious needs 
were attended to by the vicar and three curates, until two 
missioners from the College Missions (Trinity, Cambridge) 
joined them. They set up centres for service on Sundays ; 
we are not emphasizing this, because we are not convinced 
of its necessity among Catholics even in the largest parishes, 
but these centres brought religion nearer to homes from which 
it had been excluded. The social work done, however, is con- 
nected with those centres in many respects, and at each centre 
there is a list of guilds, clubs, and societies which are to be 
joined by those who wish to participate in the religious and 
social life of the parish. All over the parish there is a system 
of district visitors, in connection with which there are trained 
nurses, some of whom belong to a sisterhood. The registration 





of visits is minute in its exactness so that, as we understand 
it, the whole parish, through its social and religious activities, 
is bound together as a family. 

We have exceeded our space. We cannot now suggest 
the political reforms, the social improvements through legisla- 
tion, the means of bringing within reach of the industrious 
poor all the advantages of the highest artistic, scientific, techni- 
cal, and literary education which may grow out of such social 
work as we are speaking of. All that is wanted is energy. 
We ask, what are the well-to-do laity contributing to the ad- 
vancement of their brethren ? Do the priests, regular and 
secular, do all in their power? It will not do for the laity to 
say they contribute out of their purses to all charities. The 
contribution we want is participation in the life of their hum- 
bler co-religionists. We want them to join in clubs with them, in 
literary associations, help them in obtaining lecturers from time 
to time, as similar working-men's associations in London obtain 
gratuitously lecturers who stand in the front rank of literature 
and science. Association with their poorer brethren will be of 
incalculable benefit to both. The well-to-do will have the con- 
sciousness" that they are doing humane and noble work in ele- 
vating and comforting lives that had little to rejoice and raise 
them ; their poorer brethren will repay them with affection and 
respect, than which we know of no higher prize on earth. 



UTSPREAD around the world on high 

I see the Virgin's glorious robe, 
By foolish mortals called the sky, 
Or roof of this aerial globe. 

But we, the children of the Light, 
Know that about us is a place 

The deep and caverned womb of Night 
A vast immeasurable space, 

Thick sown with suns, a silent gloom 
Filled with a shuddering mystery 

Those feeble lamps cannot i'Vume, 
For it is God's Eternity. 

Could we but see its fearful deep, 
Our souls appalled would sink away, 

As sometimes, dreaming in our sleep, 
We shriek like children for the day. 

So, round our apprehensive sight, 
Our Blessed Mother hangs the blue 

Of her translucent veil of light 

That only lets God's Splendor through. 

Color divine ! Our hearts we steep 

In that soft radiance, for it lies 
About us as we wake or sleep, 

The atmosphere of Paradise, 

Tinting our wan souls with its hue 
Celestial. And when stars arise 

Spangling the amplitude of blue, 
We see the Blessed Virgin's eyes. 

Twelve stars around her lovely head, 
The horned moon beneath her feet, 

Their bright interpretation shed 
Upon her face divinely sweet. 

At her fair feet, our wearied sense 
In her veiled shadow rests awhile, 

Secure in God's dear recompense, 
The benediction of her smile. 

THE Rev. Ethelred L. Taunton gives in two 
considerable volumes a history of the English Black 
Monks of St. Benedict* from the coming of St. 
Augustine to the present day. We regret we can- 
not do the semblance of justice to this work in a 
paragraph or two, such v as we have at our disposal in this gos- 
sipy paper about bookjs", but we can say this much, that a great 
deal of information, hitherto not accessible to more than a few, 
is brought within the reach of all. The task he set himself 
was a difficult one. Even this information would stop short at 
the dissolution of the monasteries ; for the subsequent history, 
of the "black monks'* has not been written with the care and 
from . materials possessing the authority of the older history. 
Recognizing the somewhat legendary accretions that obscure 
the facts of their later life, he has endeavored to subject them 
to the test of research, and we think successfully. We consider 
the work before us sketches with force and fidelity the history, 
ancient and modern, of the English Benedictines. It is an im- 
portant contribution to the study of society as well as a good 
book in what it tells the individual and its moral effect on him. 
We cannot get rid of the monks by a brutal taunt, as the Earl 
of Pembroke did with the mother abbess when seizing the 
foundation of which she was the head. " Go spin, you jade ! " 
was the retort of that useful member of society to the poor old 
woman who asked how she and her sisters were to live. 

We are in a position to do some justice to the monks, be- 
cause fair-minded and well-read persons outside the church will 
listen to us. We could not say much before. It was well that 
the Monasticon and works of that class were compiled at great 
cost of time and labor. We can draw upon them now, and 
their authors have the reward in good effects after life, if not 
in appreciation during life. It tries our patience a little when 
we hear empty-pated Catholics, with Protestant-magazine knowl- 
edge, newspaper knowledge, popular-lecture knowledge, histori- 

* New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 


cal-novel knowledge, say that the monks were drones for the 
most part, and that such relief as the monasteries extended to the 
poor created and perpetuated pauperism. We hear that Catho- 
lic workmen are fond of quoting the blasphemies of a lectur- 
ing lawyer. Now, it is in the same way that Catholics, with 
some pretensions to culture, act in the matter of Catholic poli- 
tical and social history. The work before us, unless it comes 
under the disability of having been written by a priest, ought 
to remove from such Catholics the errors which they have 
gathered with interested good feeling from the maligners of 
their religion. 

Even such Catholics might see that self-denial has its uses. 
We are not going to recommend it on 'the authority of pagan 
schools, however considerable the weight such authority would 
have with them, but we suggest that if they possess anything, 
or if the non-Catholics whom they flatter by imitation possess 
anything of learning, of comfort, of convenience, of the man- 
ners that make intercourse a pleasure, they owe it to the monks 
they owe them all to the monks. The new world the monks 
created amid the ruins of Roman civilization rose so silently 
that one may excuse the Protestant and recreant Catholic for 
not seeing their hands in it. But their hands were there all 
the same digging, draining, road-making, clearing away forests, 
building while others of them, hidden in cold cells not too 
well lighted, blinded themselves over the manuscripts they 
had saved from the wreck of fallen empires, in deciphering, 
copying, and recopying. They did this without newspaper 
paragraphs paid in cash or mutual admiration ; consequently, 
though the " woody swamp became a hermitage, a religious 
house, a farm, an abbey, a village, a seminary, a school of learn- 
ing, and a city," it was not known that they had anything to 
do with the gradual transformation. 

Bearing in mind such growth from desolation to order and 
fertility in ten thousand landscapes, we transcribe the routine 
life of the Benedictines, which only differed from that of other 
rules in their liberality or indulgence. These lazy, dirty, selfish, 
conscienceless men, who lived on the superstitions of the poor 
wretches in the vicinity, rose at 2 A. M. and spent until 8 P. M. 
in the work appointed to each. This is how roads came to be 
made. Work, incessant work, could construct cities under East- 
ern, pile up pyramids and temples under Egyptian kings ; and 
the armies of workmen, generation after generation, die under 
the hands of overseers. This we know, because there is noth- 


ing connected with the Catholic Church to obscure our judg- 
ment. At the same time it may be submitted, that the silent 
monks could transform Europe by incessant work, and be in- 
spired by love in doing it. Only that they are monks, the evi- 
dence in their favor is immeasurably stronger than for the 
gigantic enterprises of antiquity. We have abundance for these, 
but for the labors of the monks every monument, bookish or 
other, that tells of a Roman civilization, of Barbarian irruptions, 
of political and social births across Europe from Britain to 
Greece, tells of the work done by the men who rose in the 
night to work. We then may admit that roads and villages 
connected abbey and abbey, city and city, 'and, as Cardinal 
Newman put it in his matchless way, " what the haughty Alaric 
or fierce Attila had broken to pieces these patient, meditative 
men have brought together and made to live again." We can 
also accept the proofs which ruined buildings, changed politi- 
cal conditions, lost and acquired trade, reflecting contemporary 
records, afford, that the labor of these meditative men in mak- 
ing wildernesses smiling landscapes was often undone by fire 
and sword. New invaders could undo in an hour what a cen- 
tury had constructed, and nothing was left to them but to be- 
gin all over again. 

It is almost a pity ungrateful Europe, and the ungrateful 
world, were not left to their fate. This work of reparation going 
on, as it were, through the force of an overpowering instinct in 
these communities of monks. Invaders possessing the " stern, 
manly qualities" our writers admire trampled in the dust 
churches, colleges, cloisters, libraries, which the "monkish" ene- 
mies of personal labor and civilization had supplied with their 
own brains and hands. What harm is it that they arranged their 
lives in this way that, for instance, they recited the divine office 
divided as to its hours instead of not reciting it at all or re- 
citing it all at once ? Such a waste of time and energy ! but 
really we should have no steam-engines, electricity, stock ex- 
changes, monster warehouses, printing-presses only for them. 
Certainly, if a man considers it is a better employment of time 
and energy to defraud others by means of company promotion 
and manipulation than to practise devotion, we have nothing 
to say to him ; but he has no right to compel others to prefer 
swindling to piety. Suppose we take the little hours at the 
normal time of 6 for prime, 9 for tierce, which was followed 
by Mass, 12 for sext, 2 or 3 for none, 4 or 6 for Vespers, and 
7 for compline, it may be conceded that the intervals were 

1 897-] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 409 

well spent. They were filled up with reading, that was the rule. 
What has been left behind by them shows that the reading was 
work, hard work, not glancing over newspapers, shallow maga- 
zine articles, compendiums of popular science, and thinking that 
in the badly assimilated heap of rubbish all knowledge is pos- 
sessed nothing of the kind, but hard work. Even their intel- 
lectual recreations display a subtlety which must have had at 
least one value as a practice, that they kept the mind prompt 
and penetrating. 

The fitness of Father Taunton for the task of a philosophical 
historian is evinced by his fairness, independence, and industry. 
In judging the administrative qualities of men he shows him- 
self no respecter of persons. For instance, in the dispute of St. 
Edmund with the Canterbury monks he does not overlook the 
fact that great personal sanctity does not necessarily imply the 
possession of the qualities that are essential to wise govern- 
ment. We express no opinion on the controversy itself, we 
only draw it forth as an illustration of our author's indepen- 
dence. Again, we have an instance of like courage in his 
estimate of Wolsey, and we should be glad at some future 
time to receive from him a monograph on that statesman and 
his times. 

The second volume opens with a very interesting chapter 
telling the views that took shape in the minds of men fired by 
zeal for the reconversion of England. There was a difficulty 
in the way, owing to the opinion, in ruling and Protestant 
circles, that Catholics were more interested in promoting the 
designs of Catholic princes abroad than in the salvation of souls. 
The priests sent to England for missionary purposes repudiated 
the political designs of Allen at Rheims or Agazzari at Rome; 
to some extent their professions were accepted, but the best 
test of sincerity would be a movement away from Jesuit in- 
fluences. This naturally went in the direction of the Benedic- 
tines, whose history was so interwoven with the pre-Reformation 
history of England. It was led by Robert Sayer, a Cambridge 
man and a convert, but he died at Venice without having had 
an opportunity of entering on the work in his own country. 
But from that time the stream flowed to Monte Cassino and 
other Benedictine houses, and from these the missionaries went 
back to England equipped for their labors. It may be 
observed that Cardinal Allen had become distrustful of the 
previous methods and that now he favored the new movement. 
For this change he is criticised in no halting language by 


Agazzari, rector of the English college at Rome, writing to 

There can be no doubt of the purity of Allen's motives in 
either policy. If he favored the views of Catholic princes 
abroad, it is only fair to say that he did so only within tke 
limits of an alliance which would secure the liberty of England. 
The majority of Englishmen called in the aid of a foreigner 
against their lawful king when they invited William of Orange 
to invade England with his mercenaries, drawn from every 
country in Europe. The sufferings of the Catholics under 
Elizabeth might fairly be deemed a reason to rise against her 
government, but to rise against it without sufficient support 
would be a blunder and a crime. Sufficient support could only 
be had, it may have been supposed, by courting alliance with 
the Catholic princes abroad. Theoretically this seems tenable; 
but we are glad that Allen, towards the end, came to realize 
that missionary work is not to be done by the sword, that 
Christ's soldiers are not the spearmen of Philip. We regret 
our space does not permit us to say more about the valuable 
work Father Taunton has given us. 

The Rev. Charles Coppens, S.J., is the author of a book 
whose title is Moral Principles and Medical Practice* Father 
Coppens is professor of Medical Jurisprudence in the John A. 
Creighton Medical College, Omaha. The book contains nine 
lectures delivered to his class on leading subjects of medical 
jurisprudence, among which he treats on craniotomy, abortion, 
insanity, and others. He falls into the view which has been for 
some time gaining ground, that the name medical jurisprudence 
very imperfectly indeed describes the subject matter which 
forms the contents of all the older treatises, not excepting the 
admirable works of Taylor and Guy. The latter writer is 
admirable in the information he gives of the forms of mental 
alienation, but his is a collection of notes of- observation rather 
than a scientific tract even in this part. All experts looked 
to Taylor's handling .of gunshot wounds as leaving nothing to 
be desired. He was used not alone by the lawyer ; the prac- 
tising surgeon went to him as to an avowed tract on the sub- 
ject for the suggestions on probing and the statement of 
characteristics of color, which Taylor presents so exhaustively. 
But in this too the treatment was not that of medical juris- 
prudence, it was rather that of medical practice. One can see 

*New York': Benziger Brothers. 


how the earlier writers were landed into the use of an incorrect 

Ordinarily one would suppose that medical jurisprudence 
should mean the science of the principles on which the laws 
regarding medical practice are founded. As jurisprudence may 
be defined the science of the law that is to say, the science 
which examines and states the principles on which law is 
founded so the branch of it called medical jurisprudence 
should state and examine the laws controlling medical practice, 
the principles that underlie them, and their relation to con- 
science. But in the older works this view was not taken. 
Facts innumerable were collected under various heads in order 
that the medical man might fortify himself before entering a 
witness-box to give his testimony. There was no thought of 
medical law in the sense of a system which explained the 
points at which medical practice came in contact with the laws 
of the land and the courts that administered them. Still less 
could it be expected that medical jurisprudence would con- 
cern itself about the study of the principles on which these 
laws rest and their binding power on conscience. This latter 
department of a true medical jurisprudence is what our author 
offers in his clearly stated outlines ; and we think that he has 
in this work, though necessarily a somewhat elementary one, 
made a valuable contribution to the study of forensic medicine, 
valuable in the curiosity it will excite and the hints it affords 
for its gratification. 

The Fugitives and other Poems* by John E. Barrett, form a 
creditable volume. The title poem, as we may call the first in 
the book, is a tale of slavery. It is told in blank verse. This, 
we think, was not quite so judicious a vehicle for him to have 
selected as rhyme would be. The severe majesty of blank 
verse demands the highest exercise of the imagination and an 
exceptional command of poetic diction. This is obvious, for 
there is great danger that the verse, in any one but a poet of 
the finest artistic sense, becomes prose measured in lines of 
ten syllables or whatever the counting may run to. The third 
paragraph or section of the poem is very fine, and reminds one 
of the melody of Tennyson's shorter poems. It tells of the 
mental characteristics of the slave, Adam Sage, who under a kind 
master had ample opportunities for study, and also the moral 
qualities which the religion of the Lord Christ developed in 

* Buffalo, N. Y. : The Peter Paul Book Co. 


him notwithstanding the social irony of his lot. He is a hero 
in his resignation to it, and a hero in his dreadful death, which 
is described with a strong, simple pathos that ought to put 
Mr. Barrett in a good place among the minor poets. The 
other poems, which are rhymed, are in various metres, the long 
ballad being that which he seems to handle most easily. At 
the same time there is nothing to find fault with in the rhythm 
of the one called "A Tree," or that entitled "The Magda- 
lene," the latter in decasyllabic quatrains, the other in octo- 
syllabic stanzas. 

We have a History of England* for the use of schools, by 
M. E. Thalheimer. The compiler, who if not a German by 
birth is at least one by descent, puts himself forward as an 
exponent of the principles established by the Revolution of 
1688. But he misunderstands them as he misunderstands the con- 
stitutional questions involved in the conflict between Charles I. 
and his Parliaments. Yet, with a confidence which no one ex- 
cept a German could display, he decides offhand upon issues 
of the time concerning which the greatest constitutional law- 
yers were at variance, and on which constitutional lawyers are 
at variance to-day. If there be one particle of value apart 
from force in the argument from the Parliament side, it is 
that the king was violating the privileges of the people secured 
by charters, by royal assents to acts of Parliament, by the 
promises of the Conqueror and the Norman kings, that they 
would maintain the laws of Edward the Confessor, based as these 
were said to be on the ancient " dooms," or on immemorial 
popular rights. But those who take this line of argument are 
bound to concede the whole claim for asserting which St. 
Thomas of Canterbury was assassinated ; but this German can 
see nothing in St. Thomas except an unscrupulous churchman 
who tried to make a foreign power predominant in England. 
Is it possible that no one except a German can be found in 
the United States to write the history of the mother country 
for the use of schools? That foreigners can write good books 
concerning profound political and social questions of English 
history we know. We think that Thierry's Norman Conquest of 
England is a fairly good book, mistaken in certain theories, no 
doubt, but affording the materials to control the theories. 
Guizot's History of the English Revolution is a good book, but 
written from a citizen-king point of view. Others could be 

* New York : American Book Co. 

1 897.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 413 

named, but they are not the works of Germans. Possibly in 
history, as in criticism, the savants of that nationality dive down 
deepest, stay down longest, and come up muddiest of all man- 

Varia, by Agnes Repplier,* is a collection of essays, humor- 
ous and literary, that we can recommend as calculated to while 
away an hour or two in an enjoyable and a not unprofitable 
manner. The first is called the " Eternal Feminine," and goes 
to show that what is known as the " new woman " is a per- 
son to be met with in all periods of which we have any 
records. There is some clever writing about that demonstra- 
tive female ; and particularly good are the references to the 
variety, "the platform woman." The account of Mary Manley 
and her libels in the " New Atalantis " is keenly appreciative, 
and we have a good bit of description in the ladies' attempt to 
storm the gallery of the House of Lords in 1739. We are not 
quite sure of her conclusion ; we hope it is not expressed in 
the following lines : 

" Cora's riding, and Lilian's rowing,' 

Celia's novels are books one buys, 
Julia's lecturing, Phillis is mowing, 

Sue is a dealer in oils and dyes ; 
Flora and Dora poetize, 

Jane is a bore, and Bee is a blue, 
Sylvia lives to anatomize ; 

Nothing is left for the men to do." 

In the paper "Little Pharisees in Fiction" there is scath- 
ing contempt for the unnatural little boys and girls that figure 
in correct stories for children. It would be lamentable if such 
baby prodigies or baby prigs should ever reach man's and 
woman's estate ; we are reassured at finding that one infant at 
the age of two years and seven months "made a most edify- 
ing end in praise and prayer," as he happened not to have 
been so much an infant of fiction as of paternal enthusiasm. 
We must reprehend Miss Repplier for her curiosity in desiring 
to know what the "nameless" gentleman said to Mrs. Sher- 
wood, author of the Fair child Family, when that excellent lady 
was not quite "four years of age." These good books cannot 
have had the proper effect upon our author when she forgets 
the awful example of her grandmother Eve. "The Fete de 

* Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 


Gayant " is a lively account of the festival in Douai, which 
commemorates what no one knows, though its origin is not 
lost in the twilight of fable, for, if we are not mistaken, it 
began in 1479. " Cakes and Ale," a title by the way, if we are 
not mistaken, of a book by Douglas Jerrold, which deals with 
topics somewhat akin to those adventured on by Miss Repplier, 
is oh, shocking to tell ! a plea for drinking songs. The line 
of defence she takes is what lawyers call confession and avoid- 
ance. It will not do. The "avoidance" is not proved by 
Peacock's songs, though they used to be sung by men in fault- 
less evening dress ; and still less by the suggestion of the 
Saturday Review, that the late Lord Tennyson's " Hands all 
Round!" praying "God the traitor's hope confound!" did not 
exclude mineral waters. 

Indeed, it seems that the fair author has essayed an uncon- 
genial task in advocating the cause of those song-writers whose 
claim to a place among poets is that they have supplied some 
good numbers to those who love to disturb the slumber of 
their neighbors by awaking the echoes of the night. It reflects, 
credit on her training and the sobriety of her ordinary thought 
when she employs this new mode of thought without the 
brightness and spontaneity which mark her other efforts. In 
the land of Bohemia she remains cold and severe as the Lady 
of Comus among the wild throng that follow her, but unlike 
the Lady of Comus, Miss Repplier tries to adapt herself to the 
feelings and customs of the rout. 

Mr. Archibald Clavering Gunter gives us The Power of 
Woman * in a novel a field to which, if its exercise had been 
confined for the last six thousand odd years or so, the race of 
Adam would have escaped a vast number of complications; 
but whether history would be as stirring in that event, is quite 
another thing. We should have had nothing about "the top- 
lesse towers of Ilion," as Marlowe calls them, if women were 
not " to do " and not " to love " what they should not, but as, 
according to the uncle of Clarissa Harlowe, they take very 
good care of having their own way in doing and loving, we 
suppose the history of the future will not become monotonous. 
Mr. Gunter presents us with an astonishing character called 
Ballyho Bey : we explain him by recalling a Christmas panto- 
mime in which figured a tragi-comic adventurer styled Pat 
O'Mustapha. Ballyho Bey is described by the author as a 

* New York : Home Publishing Co. 


scalawag we consider him a by no means diverting renegade 
though he seems intended to amuse by his brogue and turban 
and to shock by his utter want of principle. The events of 
the tale begin with an English boarding-school in 1769, and 
Mr. Gunter has fairly well "made up" the life and manners of 
the time for the mounting of his piece. One of the girls, 
Sarah Turnbull, who becomes in time, and a very short time 
too, the person to manifest " the power of woman," is carry- 
ing on a love affair with the captain of a privateer, while an- 
other of the girls, a Greek with the Hellenic name of Irene 
Vannos, has given her youthful enthusiasms to the keeping of 
the turbaned Irishman. This gentleman cajoles the privateer 
captain into trusting him with the arrangements for the elope- 
ment of Sarah from the school, while he is to carry off the 
Greek maiden himself. But Ballyho, who is nothing if not 
a Turk with regard to ladies, intends to carry off both girls 
kimself. This pretty little plot is unsuccessful owing to the 
unexpected turning up of the privateer captain. From this 
moment Sarah's character, which had a secret fund of malig- 
nity and craft, becomes abnormally developed in these engaging 
qualities. She revenges herself on every one. The whole 
family of the Vannos are kidnapped to the early settlement of 
Florida and Ballyho himself. When we admit the possibility 
that the favorite study of a boarding-school miss in the middle 
of the eighteenth century was the " Principe," we are prepared 
for the purposes of the author to accept the tragic conse- 
quences that flowed from her disappointment in the love affairs. 
But this also requires us to suppose that the subtle power of 
calculating chances, the guile, the preternatural treachery, the 
diabolical hatred possessed by Italian statesmen that all these 
qualities, natural and acquired, belonged to this vulgar, half- 
educated, middle-class English girl of 1/67. 

We shall say nothing about the Pink Fairy Book* edited by 
Andrew Lang, except to recommend our young friends to get 
it and read it. The tales, old as the hills and belonging to dif- 
ferent peoples, are charmingly told." We can say this lore, in 
which peoples at the opposite poles of civilization exhibit the 
same hopes and fears, lights and shadows of life, forms not the 
least important page in the science of anthropology, viewed in 
its social aspect. The virtues are there and obtain victory in 
all of them. Courage, kindness, love encounter trials, but the 

* New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 


evil influences, represented by witches, giants, and oppressors, 
in the end give way. " The Merry Wives," from the Danish, 
is not merely a nursery tale, though it would amuse the nur- 
sery as well as the paterfamilias. "The Wounded Lion," 
which is a true fairy tale from the Catalan, is delightful and 
admirably illustrated. "The Troll's Daughter" possesses that 
odd, matter-of-fact quality of precision which gives a natural 
character to Scandinavian stories of enchantment, and is well 
helped by its pictures. By the way, in this illustration the 
Troll is depicted as a potentate of more than human height. 
This we think is not correct, but we admit his power over 
pasture, forest, and river, and all the creatures in them/ and 

over the human form divine. 


A Round Table of the Representative Irish and English Catho- 
lic Novelists* gives a list of Irish and English Catholic novel- 
ists, with short biographical notes prefixed to the selections 
from their stories. The list includes the two Mulhollands, 
Clara and Rosa ; R. B. Sheridan Knowles, M. E. Frances (Mrs. 
Frances Blundell), and others, and is a neatly got up volume. 

St. Augustine of Canterbury and his Companions^ by Father 
Brou, S.J. This is a translation of a small book from the 
French, but by whom done the title-page does not tell us. 
We can say, however, that the translation has been executed 
with great spirit ; and renders into English a careful mono- 
graph of the most momentous event in the history of the An- 
glo-Saxon people, as we call the marauding tribes who sailed 
from North Germany in continuous expeditions until they 
conquered the greater part of Britain. Montalembert has told 
the same story in The Monks of the West, a thing borne in mind 
by Father Brou, who modestly questions his own fitness to go 
over the ground traversed by the great publicist. We do not 
think he is at all deficient in the gifts of the orator, so that 
he need not dread comparison with any one. But apart from 
the literary execution of the work, he has a title to be heard 
on the score that the critical value of Montalembert's treat- 
ment of the epoch and the men who informed it is denied. 
He brings to the consideration of the subject the most copious 
and recent research, and in consequence supplies us with a 
work which, though small, is of great value. There are three 
illustrations of the monuments of Canterbury, a plan of the 
cathedral in Saxon times, and a list of the principal works con- 

*New York : Benziger Brothers. f London : Art and Book Company. 

1 897.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 417 

The work is divided into ten headings, the first of which, 
" Celts and Saxons," presents a correct outline as far as it goes 
of the condition of the two races that were brought together 
by the descent of Hengist and his Jutes on the shores of the 
Isle of Thanet in 449. It is unnecessary to say anything about 
the struggle that ensued ; its general features are well known. 
It was the descent on a somewhat civilized country of three 
Teutonic tribes, hardly above negroes in their condition, but 
possessing higher powers of intellect, and consequently a greater 
capacity for civilization, than the negroes. The struggle was an 
obstinate one. From 449 until 607 the Celts slowly gave way, 
disputing every inch of ground, sometimes arresting the in- 
vaders' progress by a victory, sometimes by a drawn battle, 
but inevitably yielding to superior fortune, to the advantages 
of greater union of forces, and the barbarian ferocity and dis- 
cipline which ages of piracy and war had rendered perfect for 
attack. The monk Gildas is right in saying that it was God's 
just vengeance for that people's former sins that gave them up to 
the will of a furious, debauched, gluttonous, drunken, and unlet- 
tered race. The invaders were semi-savages, and the pretence of 
English writers that they brought with them a polity in which 
justice and administration were exact, cannot bear the test of ex- 
amination. The fact is, that the naked coasts, swamps, or forests 
of that region from which Saxon, Jute, and Angle sailed out to 
rob upon the seas would have killed a civilization, if they had 
it already. The inference is irresistible, that the intense hatred 
of the two races, Celts and Saxons, arose as much from abso- 
lute inability to find one point of sympathy which prevails be- 
tween civilized and uncivilized peoples, both of whom are war- 
like, as from the sense of the injustice of invasion on the one 
side, the rage at desperate resistance on the other. Indeed, we 
know of no people whom the Saxon invaders so much resembled 
as the Turcoman hordes at whose advance fields were blasted, 
cities and temples given to the flames, age antl childhood with- 
out distinction of sex put to the sword or reserved for slavery. 
.Numbers of the Britons fled over the sea ; and in Armorica, 
three centuries after they landed there the tradition of their 
wrongs was then so strong upon their descendants, that we may 
conclude that those cruelties have not been surpassed by any- 
thing in the experience of mankind. This may help, to some 
extent, to explain the difficulty that it was said St. Augustine 
found in obtaining assistance from the Welsh in his work of 
converting the conquerors. It was hard to suppose that men 
VOL. LXVI. 27 


whose hands were still red with the blood of priests and monks, 
who had only recently destroyed or defiled church and shrine 
all over the land, could be vessels of election. What imagination 
could conceive that those barbarians, who had only a few years 
before turned cities into wildernesses, would be brought to bow 
their necks to the soft collar of social esteem ? To say the least 
of it, the greatest tact, the utmost delicacy, were needed to win 
the co-operation of those poor Britons to serve a people who 
had inflicted upon them wrongs the memory of which was still 
burning in brain and heart with a fire that grace alone could 
extinguish. Even great saints cannot be just, ^unless they know 
and feel the difficulties which environ men. We do not think 
that St. Augustine and his companions did appreciate the diffi- 
culties with which they were in contact in this particular mat- 

The reader will find in the little work before us the story 
of the foundation of that Saxon Church which became the 
miraculous instrument of humanizing a race so intractable that 
no one need despair of the conversion of mankind. At least 
even the sceptic must admit there is nothing in the nature of 
man which opposes an insurmountable barrier to the operation 
of grace when '.he thinks of what the Anglo-Saxon was 
before St. Augustine came, and what change before the 
invasion of the Danes was wrought in him by the Church of 
Christ. Whatever England owns to-day of power, of repute 
for justice and for law, for the hold of influences which have 
advanced civilization over so large a part of the world, she 
owes to Gregory the Great and the missionaries, whose ex- 
ertions are the theme of the little book before us a book 
which we have read with great profit and pleasure, though at 
times with a spirit of reserve, but which, despite our reserve, we 
can recommend to our readers with unbounded confidence. 

Several critiques on the translation of the Abbe Demore's 
Treatise on True Politeness have deprecated its publication for 
general circulation, their writers opining that as it was written, 
for religious, it should have been kept for their exclusive bene- 
fit. We cannot agree with them. Although the abbess simple 
frankness reminds one occasionally of the instructions of the 
old New England. Primer, and although the phraseology of his 
counsels to novices and superiors may sometimes demand from 
ordinary folk a process of mental sifting, we can but be glad 
of the production,- in our hurried age and among our brusque 

1 897-] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 419 

people, of a manual of etiquette based on axioms such as the 
following : 

"It is only a person of culture, one graced by education or 
possessed of the spirit of God, that can be truly polite, y *!Vi 
All voluntary incivility committed by a servant of Jesus springs 
from some evil principle." 


The Book of Books, by Rev. J. W. Book, R.D., is a power- 
ful attempt to condense and popularize those arguments for the 
divine authority of Christianity which are based on a study of 
comparative religions, and to defend the Bible against the on- 
slaughts of infidelity and the perversions of Protestantism. 
Since everybody nowadays knows a little and talks a good 
deal about Buddhism and Mohammedanism, the first few chap- 
ters deal unsparingly with the cheap encomiums which have 
been so largely displayed on our conversational market since 
the Parliament of Religions, pointing out the philosophical con- 
tradictions of the exponents of those Oriental creeds and the 
practical results of their working out in national and political life. 
Vivacity is given to a line of thought which demands rather 
close attention, by the use of the dialogue form, the actors be- 
ing a Catholic priest, a "liberal" Methodist preacher, and a 
" Latitudinarian " yclept Ingersoll. Judaism, Miracles and Pro- 
phecy, Tradition, the Authenticity of the Pentateuch and the 
New Testament, are successively treated, and the concluding 
chapter is devoted to a discussion of Catholic and non-Catholic 
Rules of Faith. The strong point of the book is the clearness 
with which it brings out the indisputable fact that Protestant- 
ism has no arguments capable of convincing the infidel of logi- 
cally trained mind, and that such an one sees unmistakably 
that his choice is between Rationalism and Rome. The plac- 
ing of so much and such good matter in a handy form is the 
greatest merit of the volume. 

* The Book of Books ; or, Divine Revelation from Three Standpoints. By Rev. J. W. 
Book, R.D. Indianapolis: 'Catholic Record Print. 

THE old standards of this magazine, represented 
bv the motto ABLE > ADVANCED, AGGRESSIVE, will 
be more than ever attained by the work we have 
mapped out for it during the year to come. 

It is pleasing to see how actively Cardinal Vaughan is in- 
teresting himself in non-Catholic mission work. He went down 
to Halstead a short time ago and himself gave two of the 
lectures in the town hall during the course of a mission to 
the non-Catholics. In England this means a great deal more 
than it does here because of what is known politically as 
" heckling." Any one in the audience is privileged to resist 
the speaker to his face, and at Halstead some of the ministers 
mounted the chairs and controverted the statements of his 

It is refreshing to see a prelate of the church, especially 
one who surrounds himself with such pomp and dignity as Car- 
dinal Vaughan is reputed to do, it is refreshing to see him 
descend into the arena and cross swords with the local minister. 
If it demonstrates nothing else, it shows how much he has at 
heart the missionary work of the church among non-Catholics. 

The social awakening in France is assuming wonderful pro- 
portions, and what is particularly striking about it is the fre- 
quent congresses assembled under Catholic auspices, in which 
the laity are associated with the clergy and a large freedom 
of discussion is participated in and enjoyed by both. 

The splendid prospectus of the work we propose to do dur- 
ing the next year is worthy of your special attention. A mag- 
azine with merely respectable features, without any decided 
policy, is a nondescript sort of thing. It reminds one of the 
" thou-shalt-not " sort of Christians, who never do very wrong 
because they are never inclined that way, but who never do any- 
thing positively good, who have no decided traits of character, 
and who pass aimlessly through the world, and the world is 
not a whit better -for their living. 

1 8 9 7.] 





REV. LUKE RIVINGTON, D.D., whose fascinating article on 
the mental attitude of the Church of England, " Since the Con- 
demnation of Anglican Orders," appears elsewhere in this 
magazine, is perhaps the best qualified of living writers to deal 


with such a subject. Although his age places his Anglican 
career some twenty years later than those of Newman and 
Manning, he was still upon the stage before the curtain fell on 
the last scene in the drama of expiring Tractarianism. A 
High Churchman from conviction and from sentiment, he was 
thoroughly grounded in the arguments for " English Catholi- 
cism/' while his early connection with the Anglican congrega- 



tion of " Mission Priests of St. John the Evangelist " (generally 
known as the Cowley Fathers), and his brilliant missionary 
career in India and in the United States, as well as in Eng- 
land, gave him scope and opportunity for testing to the full, 
in practical grappling with sin and sorrow and suffering, the 
tenets in which he had been so carefully trained. He was 
no mere theorist or doctrinaire he was no theologian pure 
and simple this man who, in the full ripeness of his intel- 
lectual powers, with half a century of active and of fruitful 
life behind him, stepped out, some dozen years ago, from 
the ranks of the Anglican clergy and sought admission to 
the Catholic Church as to the one true fold of Christ. His 
very action was a startling sermon to English non-Catholics, 
whose position he understands so fully and so sympathetically, 
and to whose conversion he has ever since dedicated his voice 
and pen. Dr. Rivington's powers of oratory are unusual, while 
the delicacy and persuasiveness of his manner, and the charm 
of his marvellously modulated voice lend such aid to his keen 
logic and his complete mastery of the science of ecclesiastical 
history, that one does not wonder when those who know him 
best avow that in these twelve short years he has made more 
converts than any other priest in London. Although possibly 
most at home in the pulpit, he is well known to the Public 
Hall Apostolate, as carried on in England under the auspices 
of the Guild of Our Lady of Ransom. 

His contributions to religious journalism in England and 
America, as well as his weightier works, are chiefly in the line 
of Anglican controversy, as will be judged from the titles of 
his books : Authority, or a Plain Reason for joining the Church 
of Rome ; Dust ; A Letter to Rev. C. Gore, M.A . ; Dependence, 
or the Insecurity of the Anglican Position ; Our Separated Breth- 
ren; Primitive and Roman; Rome and England, or Ecclesiasti- 
cal Continuity. 

Miss MARGARET KENNA (daughter of the late Senator John 
Edward Kenna, who died January 7, 1893, while serving his 
second term in the Senate) is one of the [youngest of our 
Catholic writers, but bids fair to take a high rank among 
short-story writers, at least. What she may do towards the 
"great American novel" it is yet too soon to prophesy; but 
her series of sketches, " In the Parish of the Sacred Heart," 
now appearing in this magazine, manifest a forcefulness and 
originality as character studies which show that Miss Kenna is 






laying the most solid of foundations for her possible future work 
as a novelist. 

She has " always loved writing." Indeed, her efforts date 
so far back into her almost childhood, that she is unable to 
recall precisely what were her " baby beginnings." They com- 
prise, however, newspaper sketches, written and published while 
she was a student at Mount de Chantal, the Visitation Convent 
near Wheeling, Miss Kenna's home being in Charleston, 
Kanawha County, W. Va. 

As yet she has published but one book, The Madonna of the 
Snowflakes, a dainty brochure whose chapters, while as delicately 
drawn, are hardly as strong as her later work. Our author's 
stories never pass unnoticed, and the criticism which they have 
drawn upon themselves in some quarters is, possibly, quite as 
much to their credit as is the praise which has been showered 
on them in others. 

It is worthy of note that the warmest encomiums on the 
fidelity to life and on the beauty of Miss Kenna's priestly heroes 
come from the clergy themselves who certainly ought to know 
when "the Priest in Fiction" is well drawn! 


ERNEST LAGARDE, LL.D., the well-known Professor of Eng- 
lish Literature and Modern Languages in Mount Saint Mary's 
College, Emmitsburg, Md., holds a prominent place in the his- 
tory of Catholic American literature. Though his services have 
been especially rendered in directing the students of the " Moun- 
tain " for the past twenty-eight years, yet he has contributed 
not a few articles to our standard magazines, etc. 

Dr. Lagarde is a native of Louisiana and was born Septem- 
ber 4, 1836. His education was conducted almost entirely by his 
uncles, Michael Dracos and Alexander Dimitry, both " George- 
tonians " and well known as educators in the South before the 
war. The latter was minister to Costa Rica and Nicaragua 
under President Buchanan. After spending several years at 
the military institute of College Hill, near Raymond, Miss., 
Dr. Lagarde returned to his native city, New Orleans, and be- 
gan the study of law ; however, finding Blackstone uncongenial, 
he turned to medicine, which he also abandoned to enter the 
ranks of journalism. 

He became literary editor of The Magnet, a paper established 
by Denis Corcoran, at one time American reporter for the 
Dublin Nation, and author of Court Scenes. Later, when the 
paper changed hands and became known as The Mirror, under 
'the management of Mark Bigney, the Nova Scotian poet, and his 
colaborer, Felix McManus, .Dr. Lagarde was retained as liter- 
ary editor. During the Secession convention he was connected 
with The Delta, under the management of Joseph Brennan, the 
Irish patriot. He afterwards became one of the editors of the 
Louisiana Courier and of the New Orleans Bee. He then pub- 
lished a paper of his own, The Sentinel, which came out in the 
Crescent City during the presidential campaign of 1860. 

After the secession of Louisiana he enlisted among the fol- 
lowers of the stars and bars, and went out a private in Com- 
pany D (Louisiana Guards) of the Crescent Regiment. He 
afterwards became a clerk in the ordnance bureau at the Con- 
federate capital, and while so connected contributed frequently 
to the Richmond Whig, besides publishing a monthly magazine 
called The Age, and immediately after the war was one of the 
editors of the Richmond Bulletin. 

When the war ended, Mr. Lagarde began his long and hon- 
orable career as college professor. In 1866 he took charge of 
the modern language classes in Randolph-Macon College, Boyd- 
ton, Va., where he remained until 1868. While here he re- 
ceived the degrees of A.B. (1866) and A.M. (1868) from George- 




town University. In 1869 he was appointed to the chair which 
he now holds in Mount St. Mary's College that of professor of 
English literature and modern languages, of which incumbency 
it may be said briefly that it has been of great value to the 
college and to the students who, for over a quarter century, 
have attended the professor's lectures. Dr. Lagarde in taking 
his charge had no easy duty to perform, for he was to suc- 
ceed such accomplished educators as Very Rev. Charles C. 
Pise, D.D., pulpit orator, historian, novelist, and poet ; and 
George H. Miles, whom Brownso-n styled " the greatest Ameri- 
can dramatist." 

During his connection with Mount St. Mary's he has pub- 
lished his French Verb-Book and a translation of Quinton's 
Nobleman of 'p, a romance of the days of the French Revolu- 
tion. True to his first love, journalism, he assisted his sons in 
the publication of the first printed college paper at the college, 
The Mount Echo. From his lectures he selected one on 


Shakspere, which he brought out several years since, under the 
patronage of Very Rev. William Byrne, D.D., V.G. of Boston ; 
while he has now in preparation others on Milton and a 
series on the English language, delivered before the graduating 
classes in years 

Professor Lagarde's latest venture was a series of Readers, 
which he has placed in the hands of an extensive Western 
publishing house and which will soon issue from the press. 

As a lecturer he has met with much success. Attendants at 
the first session of the Catholic Summer-School, in New London,, 
will remember with pleasure the two able lectures given by him 
on "The Bard of Avon." 

Mr. Lagarde was this year highly honored by St. Francis 
Xavier College of New York, which conferred upon him the 
degree of Doctor of Laws. 

Heretofore Mr. Lagarde's professorial labors have been so- 
arduous as to interfere greatly with his literary work, but now 
he hopes to devote more of his time and attention to such 
matters, since his collegiate duties have become less onerous. 

The professor's home, " Inglewood," a mile south of the 
college, evokes pleasant memories to his pupils both from the 
States and the sister Republic of Mexico. 




BY S. M. C. 

BUT these with their loveless tissue of fair weaving ; 

These with the joyless musical refrain ; 
These letting life go blind and unbelieving; 

These looking earthward only and in vain ; 

These that have lain in the poppy-flowers waving, 
Grown where the fields turn wilderness and bare ; 

These with the look-back and lotus-craving ; 
These with the thin self-echo of despair ; 

These ever straining after days that were not ; 

These with their reckless abandonment of youth ; 
These that restrain not, wonder not, revere not, 

These are no poets or there is no truth. 


Dante, the Homer of scholastic philosophy, the doctor who has given us the 
literary and philosophical Summa of the middle ages, is a poet who knows of Truth, 
He restrains, he wonders, he reveres, and compels restraint, wonder, and reverence 
in all who> come to him to learn the Truth. He, like the poets he saw discoursing 
in " flowery glades," tells us of all things high and noble. 

Frederic Ozanam has given us " another book on Dante," and one available 
to Catholics; a book which must help us to come nearer to the problem of 
Dante's power. In this book we see clearly that the personal interest is not what 
holds us in thrall, first by fear, then by wonder, then by sympathy, at last by an 
awe-stricken love. 

It is not our purpose in studying Dante, under Ozanam's guidance, to spend 
much time settling the question of Dante's politics. Was heGuelph or Ghibelline 
matters little now. There are many valuable books written with a view to un- 
tangling the very tangled threads of Italian factions in the thirteenth century. Nor 
shall we try to clear up the Papal, Florentine, and German scandals of the four- 

Suffice it for us, who look to Dante for philosophical and religious enlight- 
enment, to be content with Ozanam's chapters on the unlovely political wrangling 
of those difficult times. What concerns us most in connection with those disputes 
is that they led to Dante's exile, and it was during this exile the great Dream was 
embodied in the Divina Commedia. 

It was Hell and Purgatory, no doubt, for Dante to leave his beautiful city, to 
learn " how salt is the bread of strangers, how hard are the stairs of other men." 

excellent English translation of Frederic Ozanam's great work on Dante was 
recently published by tihe Cathedral Library Association, 123 East soth Street, New York 


Ozanam does not seem particularly anxious to prove the personal sanctity of 
Dante ; rather to show that the Divina Commedia is the poetic Summa, the illus- 
tration of the great theological Summa ; to show us how the " divine Plato '' 
dwindles beside the seer who saw the remotest consequences of evil and the end- 
less beatitude of those who choose good for their portion. 

We cannot conceive Dante otherwise than happy while composing his great 
works, though in exile. Instead of eating his heart out, why not draw out his ideal 
of a perfect government, picturing that good time coming when every one could 
sit at ease and perfect himself in prudence and wisdom ? fancying that 
good time when, as St. Paul puts it, " Man comes to the measure of the stature 
of the fulness of Christ ? " The treatise on Monarchy was Indexed. The Vita 
Nuova is a youthful attitude of mind towards God and nature. The Convito 
may be called the rationalistic phase of Dante's mental wanderings, where he 
makes reason seem, if not all-sufficient, very nearly so. The Divina Commedia 
represents Dante, having gone through the age of doubt and speculation, returned 
to full faith. Ozanam has served us well as to the judgment we are to pass on 
Dante's collective works. It is pleasant to think that the twenty years of exile 
were shortened by these labors. Would twenty years of study on our part justify 
us in setting ourselves up as Dantean expositors? Perhaps yea, more likely 
nay ; meanwhile, all the time we can devote to Ozanam's exposition of Dante as 
the greatest philosophical and theological poet will be profitably and pleasantly 
spent. With Ozanam's book and the noble essay by the lamented Brother 
Azarias as to the spiritual meaning of the Divina Commedia, we may take up the 
great poem again and read it, first, as a mere narrative, and we shall find the 
difficulties attendant on our first reading considerably diminished. Then we may 
begin to feel the aesthetic delight that every great work of art should awaken. 
As for the philosophical and theological reading of Dante, most of us women must 
do that under guidance. Ozanam has done us particularly a signal service ; when 
we have read Ozanam carefully, we may read our own Dante the poet Dante, 
who, no less than Hamlet, had the painful conviction that his times were out of 
joint, but who did not go mad in his endeavor to set them right. 

We cannot for a moment hesitate as to the propriety of alluding to Shak- 
spere in connection with Dante, for both are poets of all times ; though we can- 
not conceive Shakspere's attitude towards the stage of this world as exactly the 
same as Dante's " other times, other morals," but it is always the same humanity. 
Shakspere in his " brief abstracts and chronicles of time " is the calmer looker-on. 
We don't go to him for philosophical nor theological answers as such, but who is 
ready to deny that Shakspere has done as much if not more than Dante to edu- 
cate the world ? and the more we come to know Dante, the surer we feel he would 
have owned to Shakspere's greater hold on- the world as a teacher. 

What an interesting study would this be on the comparative merits of the 
two great poets ! Both believed in Hell and pointed out how it may be reached, 
even before Death puts out our little candle here. Both believed and taught that 
the toilsome ascent of Purgatory leads to Heaven at last, and both believed and 
asserted that beatitude can be reached only through faith and atonement. We 
feel thankful that we are so sure hisDivtna Commedia is not a futile expression of 
mediaeval fancies, no more than Shakspere's plays are mere pictures of the spe- 
cial times and men and women they represent. 

Those who have read the Divina Commedia two or three times may not care 
ever again to lose sight of the " Blessed Stairs " in the Inferno, but we must all 


come again and again to the dim, though peaceful, shades of Purgatorio. The 
Second Canto of Purgatorio is too beautiful for analysis ; in all literature there is 
nothing sweeter, more soothing. We cannot read it too often. It is a lovely 
picture no tears, no bitterness in Purgatorio, though there is intense pain. 
And who that has been once in Dante's Paradiso can resist the desire to return 
again and again ? Perhaps the absence of exact system is not the least of our de- 
light in this last section of the poem. The symbolism of the " Cross of luminous 
Spirits," " The Eagle," ." The wonderful Rose," are trying to our dim under- 
standings, but they make pleasanter reading than Milton's Battalions, so sugges- 
tive of a British military review. 

St. Bernard's intimation to Dante that his slumbers are soon to be broken is 
our final authority as to the Dream form of the poem. Perhaps, too, no part of 
the poem better illustrates the incongruous blending of beauty and triviality, s 
marked a feature of all mediaeval art, than the commonplace figure of speech with 
which the intimation is given, " We must, like a good tailor, cut our coat accord- 
ing to our cloth." That from a saint in heaven goes with the gargoyles, etc., 
used in Gothic decoration. We have, doubtless, much to learn of Gothic art. 
Some criticism vulgarizes great things ; our chief debt to Ozanam perhaps lies 
just here, that he has endeavored to popularize Dante and has not vulgarized 
him. The great poet is more and more for us as we learn to know him the 
great, the perfect Voice of many silent centuries. 

Canon Farrar says the Divina Commedia is an autobiography like St. Augus- 
tine's Confessions-, a soul-history like Faust, but attaining a far loftier level of 
faith and thoughtfulness and moral meaning ; of much wider range and intenser 
utterance than Paradise Lost. Yet we are told Voltaire could see no beauty in 
this poem ; he thought the Inferno revolting, the Purgatorio dull, and the 
Paradiso unreadable ! 

Farrar says the Hell of Dante is the hell of self ; the hell of a soul that has 
not God in his thoughts, the hell of final impenitence, of sin cursed by the ex- 
clusive possession of sin ; a hell which exists no less in this world than in the next ; 
just as his Purgatorio reflects the mingled joy and anguish of true repentance, 
and his Paradiso is the eternal peace of God, which we can possess now and 
which the world cannot give and cannot take away. 


Ozanam and Farrar, and all serious students of Dante, are of one opinion as 
to the Divina Commedia containing the eternal elements of all true religion in the 
life-history of a soul redeemed from sin and error, from lust and wrath and greed, 
and restored to the right path of the reason and the grace which ennoble, to see 
" the things that are as they are." With all due recognition of the claims of the most 
worthy Dantean commentators on our gratitude, we are blest in the possession of 
Ozanam's study ; he is our greatest Catholic guide in the reading of the Divina 
Commedia, as to its philosophical and religious meaning, and how worthily he takes 
his place among all the noblest students of the great poem who have chiefly con- 
fined their studies to the Commedia as a great aesthetic work. A great poem is a 
Revelation, and Ozanam echoes the assertion of Lecky, who, with his singular elo- 
quence, calls the Divina Commedia " the lost Apocalypse." 

Ozanam is particularly anxious to impress upon us the dogmatic value of the 
great vision, though we may be quite sure that Ozanam would be one with Canon 
Farrar, for example, in this interpretation of the Inferno : Hell is the history of 


a soul descending through lower and lower stages of self-will, till it sinks, at last, 
into the icy depths of that Cocytus wherein the soul is utterly emptied of God and 
utterly filled with the loathly emptiness, and so would Ozanam, the dogmatist, 
we feel sure, say that the Paradiso is the soul entirely filled with the fulness of 

If Ozanam 's work can rouse the studiously-inclined young men and women 
f our day to a careful study of the great poetic expositor of the Summa of St. 
Thomas, what a noble work has he achieved ! 

There is so much flippancy in most of the popular literature, even the best- 
minded run some risks as to false judgments on the great achievements of other 
ages. When we realize the space so much of this latter-day flippancy occupies in 
our reviews, we are justified in falling back on the great master-pieces. 

Fancy such books as Marie Corelli's Sorrows of Satan and Bar abbas stand- 
ing as long on the book-sellers' lists as any of the best works of the past three 
years ! Can we be.too deeply indebted to a gently-severe teacher who takes us as 
Virgil took Dante through the Inferno, and shows us that Satan is not a flickering, 
gentlemanly, philosophic man of the world, like Marie Corelli's conception ; no, 
nor like Faust's Mephistopheles ; nor even like Milton's " fallen Cherub," but a 
real three-headed monster, with faces yellow with envy, crimson with rage, and 
black with ignorance ; not haughty, splendid, defiant, but foul and loathly as sin 

Would it not be well to read Newman's Dream of Gerontius in connection 
with Ozanam's chapter on Good, and collaterally with the Purgatorio f Ozanam, 
Newman, Dante, and St. Thomas are all one as to this one great dogma. God 
is our sole peace and joy. . . . As to the Commedia's claim on our admiration, 
from a purely poetic point of view, who can set any limits to all that may yet be 
said over and above all that has been said ? Andrew Lang may find many to 
agree with him as to the direful effects of much of our so-called education, not 
the least of which is the lowering of our standard of " critical consciousness " and 
of our " critical learning." It does look as if we were paying the penalty of de- 
mocracy telegrams, newspapers, " popular education," and short-cuts generally. 
It is for such organizations as the Reading Circles and Summer-Schools to work 
with the great universities (as Newman conceived a university) to maintain the 
great principles of education and criticism, and Ozanam is one with our erudite 
Pontiff, Leo XIII. , in evoking the great teachers of the great ages of faith ; and 
who to-day, who claims a place among scholars, dares speak of the mouldy mid- 
dle ages? We need not fear, after reading the famous encyclical exhorting all 
Catholic schools to return to the scholastics, to speak of Dante as the poet of 
Christendom. The power of Dante is a problem Ozanam helps us to solve. The 
fitness of Dante for all ages needs no other evidence than his undying hold on the 
minds and hearts of men even of the minds and hearts of men at the end of this 
century, whose proud, but unfounded, boast it is to have outlived mediaeval sub- 
tleties and rigid interpretations, and to have lost all reverence for scholastic nice- 
ties of distinction. 

Ozanam has not reached such growth ; he has all of Dante's and Pope Leo's 
reverence for St. Thomas, "from whom nature withheld nothing the Master of 
those who know." It is from St. Thomas Dante learns in Paradise most of what 
he tells us, and like his master, Dante holds that moral truths take precedence of 
all others. We learn from him that to reach truth we must be docile, simple, pure, 
-" like unto little children " said the Divine Master, who was pleased to say to the 


greatest of his interpreters : " Thomas, thou hast written well of me." Dante 
holds, like his teacher, that genius itself cannot reach the inner meaning of certain 
truths save through the cleansing fires of divine love. Is it surprising that so 
much of our modern literature is incomprehensible ? How can an agnostic, self- 
sufficient mind form an "equation with truth " ? Can we be too grateful for the 
help Ozanam holds out to us ? In all his works he aims at showing the close 
relation between religion and science. He makes the middle ages his centre of 
observation. The French knew only the Inferno before Ozanam translated the 
Purgatorio, and^all they seemed to know of the Inferno was the hope- dispelling 
inscription over the dark gates. They seemingly, also, found a ceaseless pleasure 
in telling the dismal story of Francesca and Ugolino. Ozanam studies the life and 
genius of Dante, gives us the general plan of the Divina Commedia as in a superb 
tableau ; points out its historical meaning, its political, philosophical, and theolo- 
gical value ; shows the Divina Commedia to be a grand panorama of general 
history as seen by the light of science, justice, and love. No careful reader of 
Ozanam will hesitate to say that he wrought to the utmost of his strength for the 
glory of God and of his Christ. 

Those who have ever been bewildered as to some of Dante's bitter utter- 
ances against some of the undeniable abuses of his time and have been perplexed 
as to Dante's orthodoxy, should read with especial care the fifth chapter of 
Ozanam 's work. Nor would it be amiss tojook into the church history as to the 
evils of the last half of the thirteenth century and all of the fourteenth and fifteenth, 
to realize what led to the Council of Florence, what marred the orthodoxy of some 
sessions of that memorable council. A dareful study of those troubled times will 
make it easy enough to understand Dante's harsh treatment of certain churchmen. 
Considering the Divina Commedia as an In Memoriam, it is not hard to show 
how superior it is to Petrarch's Sonnets to Laura, to Milton's dirge Lycidas, to 
Shelley's Adonais, and Tennyson's noble lament for Arthur Hallam. All these 
are beautiful because not merely dirges, but the Divina Commedia transcends them, 
not perhaps in expressed love for the lost loved one, but in the well-sustained 
symbolism from the first starting out in that " dark forest " to the final full vision, 
face to face, in Paradise. And we too ask ourselves, is disaster, then, what it 
seems something malign, the crash of fate, or but a specially magnificent scene in 
that great, ever-renewed world tragedy, which it is our human business to play 
out within the eager cognizance of the spheres ? We are, indeed, given in specta- 
cle to God and his angels, ay, and to one another ! 

232 NEW BOOKS. [Dec., 1897. 


B. HERDER, St. Louis: 

The Catholic School Record of Attendance, Deportment, and Daily Lessons. 
Prince Arumugan, the Steadfast Indian Convert. Translated from the 
German by Helena Long. Autobiography of Madame Guyon. Translated 
in full by Thomas Taylor Allen, Bengal Civil Service (Retired). In two 

Illustrated Explanation of the Prayers and Ceremonies of the Mass. By 
Rev. D. I. Lanslots, O.S.B., with preface by Most Rev..F. Janssens.D.D., 
Archbishop of New Orleans. The Mission Book of the Redemptorist 
Fathers : A Manual of Instructions and Prayers. A History of the Prot- 
estant Reformation in England and Ireland. By William Cobbett ; with 
notes and preface by Francis Aidan Gasquet, D.D., O.S.B. Moral 
Principles and Medical Practice. By Rev. Charles Coppens, S.J., Profes- 
sor of Medical Jurisprudence in the John A. Creighton Medical College. 
A Round Table of the Representative Irish and English Catholic Novel- 
ists. Blossoms of the Cross. By Emmy Giehrl. 
PETER PAUL BOOK Co., Buffalo, New York: 

The Fugitives and Other Poems. By John E. Barrett. 
ART AND BOOK Co., London and Leamington: 

St. Augustine and His Companions. Illustrated. From the French of 

Father Brou, S.J. 

Karma: A Story of Early Buddhism. By Paul Carus. Illustrated and' 

printed by T. Hasegawa, Tokyo, Japan. 

Susan Turnbull, Bally ho Bey. Both by Archibald Clavering Gunter. 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & Co., Boston : 

The Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. By Rodolfo Lanciani, D.C.L. r 

Oxford, LL.D., Harvard. 
LONGMANS, GREEN & Co., New York: 

Stories on the Rosary. Part I. By Louisa Emily Dobree. 

Wayside Tales. By Lady Herbert. Third Series. New edition. Paper 
boards and paper. Our Angel Guardian. By Rev. H. Schomberg 
Kerr, S.J. 

Laying the Hero to Rest. By Edward Doyle. 
JOHN KEHOE, New York : 

Columbus System of Vertical Writing. Books 1-6. 
CHARLES H. KERR & Co., Chicago : 

Dan the Tramp. By Laura Hunsaker Abbott. 
D. APPLETON & Co., New York : 

The Scholar and the State. By Henry Codman Potter, D.D., LL.D. 

Corleone. By F. Marion Crawtord. In two volumes. 
AMERICAN BOOK Co., New York, Boston, Chicago : 

A School History of the United States. By John Bach McMaster. 
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York : 

The Man of the Family. By Christian Reid. 

Losses in Boiling Vegetables, etc. 
LONGMANS, GREEN & Co., New York: 

The Pink Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. The English Black 
Monks of St. Benedict. By Rev. Ethelred L. Taunton. Two volumes. 
The Diary of Master William Silence : A Study of Shakespeare and of 
Elizabethan Sport. By the Right Hon. D. H. Madden, Vice-Chancellor of 
the University of Dublin. 




VOL. LXVI. JANUARY, 1898. No. 394. 

' come 


," the J\|eW Year saith, u unbid by man, 
<And all the World must look upon n\y face; 

<Aqd some thro' sorrow's tears my Visage scan, 
Striving to see thereon one touch of grace. 

come, and marvel at tFje crouching fear 
Which souls display when I in silence take 

1 he Id Year gently frorr| F|is darkened bier, 
'And bid the World to joy aqd rapture Wake. 

" Weary hearts! thiql^ ye | come alone, 
Clnaided, and a wanderer from some clime? 

1 hink ye that in my soul no lo\?e is soWn, 
1 Fjat I, unguided, Winged tF|e aisles of I ime? 

"J\lay, for a Tiand Supreme to me Was 

& eJ I 

<And I Was led adoWn the shadowy land ; 

am the gift of naught sa\?e F|ope and F|ea\?en, 
IDidden by (yod to speal^ jHis higl] command." 






No. I. 


*NE hears so much of spoken patriotism in politi- 
cal discussion of the better sort, that we may 
fairly assume it has much to do with political 
measures. If the fact be otherwise, we are 
clearly in a famished state of public life ; a con- 
dition of pessimism that no American will openly admit. 
National instinct rebels against the menace and grasps at the 
tokens of past valor for country. In time of national peril we 
have been intense patriots, and a glory to independent nations. 
The late Civil War showed that patriotism was a general vir- 
tue, common to every race, creed, or class that formed the 
American people. In time of peace patriotism has been allowed 
to become, at times, a glorious sentiment, well used in the past, 
and capable of great use in the future ; but a sentiment only 
for the present. Yet the need for continuous and unremitting 
exercise of patriotism clearly exists. The nation, state, or city 
is still the creature of those who compose the body politic. 
Those who have the sovereign power of suffrage may within 
certain limits mould the commonwealth according to their de- 
sire. With this power resting in the suffrage, and that so uni- 
versal and unrestricted, the active components in the body 
politic become the real rulers. 

If a large class or body do, of choice or habit, abstain from 
participation in the political measures of the day, they remove 
themselves from their place of control, and resign their abso- 
lute right into the hands of those who remain active. In 
effect this aloofness from political activity gives a greater power 
to those remaining in the field than was intended. When we 
consider the question of public control by the majority, we 
not seldom find that control is really held by an actual minor- 
ity. While this paradox in a republic of unrestricted suffrage 
may seem astounding, it is not the less actual, and it is made 
possible by a false conception of the duties of citizenship. It 
is almost axiomatic, that where one has power, duty also is 


imposed. Yet thousands, in our very city, regularly abstain 
from the mere use of the suffrage without the slightest ap- 
parent sense of harm done or duty omitted. When in theory 
our government rests on the suffrage and other political action 
by all the citizens, and the contrary is the fact, there is some- 
thing substantially wrong in the working of the theory. Yet the 
result is but the natural sequence of a well-known and pitia- 
ble cause : the miserable inaction and total surrender by thou- 
sands of their political rights. The men of average intelligence 
who believe that all political duty is fulfilled by registry and 
voting, present the most pathetic picture of innocence betrayed. 
Year after year they manfully vote for the candidate offered 
them, though having quite as much to do with his selection 
as a candidate as the men of Borneo. 

If the source of political power were in theory delegated to 
a body of twenty men, and if five of them resolved, for reasons 
of their own, to remain inactive, eight of the political body 
would have actual control, although a minority. There would, 
of course, be much condemnation of the five who, by omission of 
duty, made this minority control a reality. The political critic 
would have a full opportunity for philippics until the offending 
five were brought back to duty or shorn of the power they pur- 
posely abused. Turning the eye on actual political conditions 
in our country, we find a precisely similar situation in many 
communities. Not only do a minority of suffragists hold a 
seeming control in many places, but actual rule is maintained 
by a very sma