Full text of "The Catholic world"

See other formats

THE

*. ltt««|! ,§

CA!fHt>LIC WORLD.

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

GENERAL LITERATURE AND SCIENCE?

PUBLISHED BY THE PAUUST FATHERS.

VOL. LXXXVIII.
OCTOBER, 1908, TO MARCH, 1909.

(j!) H t ti i

NEW YORK :

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD,
120 WEST 6oth STREET.

Good Reading for Children

Is To-Day an Absolute Necessity.
THE BEST PROOF OF WORTH

APPRECIATION.

Subscriptions to THE LEADER,

Our Monthly for Boys and Girls,

INCREASE IMMENSELY FROM MONTH TO MONTH,

"THE LEADER is the Best, the Most Interest-
ing, the Most Instructive Periodical for Catholic
Boys and Girls.

Subscription Price, $1.00 per Year.

Liberal Discount when Ordered in Quantities
for the Sunday or the Parochial School.

122 West 6ot

ork City,

CONTENTS.

Arnoul the Englishman. — Francis Ave-

ling, D.D., 25

Babylon, By the Waters of. — Jeanie

Drake, 735

Between the Sandhills and the Sea.— A.

Dease, 634

Bosnia, The Fate oi.—Ben Hurst, . 513
Catania.— Joseph McSorley, C.S. P., . 810
Catholic Women in Italy To-Day. —

Virginia M. Crawford, i

Chesterton, G. K.— JV. E. Campbell, . 769

Columbian Reading Union, The, 142, 286,

430, 573, 717, 862

Constantinople, Impressions of Islam in.

— Maiste Ward, .... 759
Coppee, Francois. — Virginia M. Craw-
ford, 182

Current Events, 132, 277, 423, 564, 709, 853
Eucharistic Congress, Some Lessons of

the. — Francis Aveling, D.D. , . 172

Foreign Periodicals, 120, 266, 412, 555,

698, 841
Four Celebrities — Brothers by Marriage.

— Wilfrid Wilbtrjorce, 203, 290, 480,

721
Grafton, Bishop, and Pro-Romanism. —

Lewis Jerome CPHern, C.S.P., . 622
Holcombe, The Legend of (West-Coun-
try Idylls).— .#. E. P., . 800
Hopkins, Gerard. — Katherine Brtgy, . 433
Irish History, New Light on.— A. Hil-

liard Atteridge, . . . .671
Irish University System, The. — Bertram

C. A. Windle, LL.D., F.R.S., . 57-7
Is it the Turn of the Tide ? — Cornelius

Clifford, . ' . . . . .783
Joan of Arc," Anatole France's " Life

of.—/. Bricout, 234, 341, 523

Lavergne, Madame Julie. — Mary E.

Mannix, . . . . . .74

Literature and Morality. — R. L. Man-

gan, S.J., . . . . .745

Manning, Henry Edward. — Wilfrid

Wilberforce, 203

Messina.— Joseph McSorley, C.S. P., . 652

Monachism. — Cdrnelius Clifford, . 90

Nearest Place to Heaven, The.— Alfred

Young, C.S, P., . . . . 378

Neighbors in Modern Society. — William

/. Kerby, Ph.D., . . . 323, 607

New Books, 99, 249, 392, 538, 679, 820

Old Forge, The (West-Country Idylls.)—

H E. P., 500

Penance of Richard Luff, The (West-
Country Idylls) — H. E. P., . . 330

Rider, George Dudley.— Wilfrid Wil-
berforce, . . . . . . 480

Scepticism the Philosophy of Lord

Bacon. — Michael Hogan, S.J., . 52

Secret of Roland York, The.— H. A.

Hinkson, ..... 221

Sequestrated French Convent, A. —

Katharine Tynan, .... 660

Shelley, The Mysticism of. — Edmund

G. Gardner, . . . .145

Shell House (West-Country Idylls).—

H.E.P. 193

Sicily, In.— Joseph McSorley, C.S. P.,

652, 8 10

Sierra Madre, In the.— Christian Reid, 156,

309, 448, 590

Tauler's Sermons in English, . . 641

Temperance Movement in Ireland, The

" Pioneer," . . . . 466

To Men of Good-Will. — Jeanie Drake, 356

Village School, The (West-Country

Idylls).—^. E. P., . . . .65

West Country Idylls.—^. E. P., 65, 193,

330, 500, 800

Who is My Neighbor ? — William J.

Kerby, Ph.D., ' . . 323, 607

Wilberforce, Henry William.— Wilfrid

Wilberforce, . - . . . 290

Wilberforce, Samuel. — Wilfrid Wilber-
force, 721

Wisdom, The Habit and Gift of.—

Thomas J. Gerrard, . • . 363

With a White Stone. — Jeanie Drake, . 13

POETRY.

Carol of Gifts, A. — LJUISC Imogen

Guincy, 289

Divine Friend,
Guiney

The.— Lou ise Im ogen

CONTENTS.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Alabama and the Floradas, A Catholic

History of, .

Allen, Cardinal William, the Founder

of the Seminaries, ....

Ambroise, St , ,

American as He Is, The,

394

823
in
542

205

American Student in France, An,
Angleterre Chretienne Avant les Nor-

mands, La, 692

Apocalypse, Essays on the, . . . 2.49

Atlas Biblicus, 265

Bible Studies, 254

Bible, The Old English; and Other

Essays, "5

Buddhism and Immortality, . . . 693
Campion, Father Edmund, and His

Companions, A Brief History of

Twelve Reverend Priests, . . 399

Carrington's, Sydney, Contumacy, . 551

Catechism in Examples, 1 he, . . 838

Cathedrals of Northern Italy, The, . 410
Catholic Encyclopedia, The, . . 99, 546
Catholic Life ; or, '1 he Feasts, Fasts,

and Devotions of the Ecclesiastical

Year, ..'.... 553

Christ Crucified, We Preach, . . 115
Christian Science Before the Bar of

Reason, ...... 263

Coming Harvest, The, . . .258
Conventionalists, The, . . . 684
Conversion and a Vocation, A, . . 252
Cruzada de la Buena Prensa, La, . 840
Discourses and Sermons for the Sun-
days and Principal Feasts of the Year, 820
Discourses, Short, for All the Sundays

of the Year, 821

Economics, History of, . . . 263
Eglise de France, La, et les Catholiques

Francais, ...... 833

Kspousales y el Matrimonio, Los, . 697

Fate's a Fiddler, ..... 407

Feltre, Vittorino da : A Prince of

Teachers, ..... 392

Flowers of the Dusk, .... 550

Freemasonry, American, A Study in, . 108

Greece and the /Egean Islands, . . qcg

Greek Fathers, The, .... 553
Happy Half-Century, A; and Other

Essays, 256

He Can Who Thinks He Can ; and Other

Papers on Success in Life, . . 824

Helladian Vistas, ..... 693
Histoire des Commandements de 1'Eg-

lise, 554

Holy Eucharist in Great Britian, A

History of the, ..... 393
Holy Scripture, A Textual Concordance

of. ....... 397

How I Came to Do it ; or, The Celibacy

of the Clergy, ..... 683

Ideals of Charity, , 395
Iglesia y el Obrero, La : The Church

and the Workman, .... 695
Immortality, New Light on, . . ; 687
Immortal Soul, An, .... 681;
Inner Life of the United States, The, . 688
Jeanne d'Arc, The Maid of France. Be-
ing the Story of the Life and Death of, 826

Lendemains d'Encyclique,

Lepers of Molokai, The,

Little Land and a Living, A,

Long Odds, ......

Lord's Prayer, The, and the Hail Mary,
Lourdes, A History of its Apparitions

and Cure?,

McLoughlin, Dr. John, the Father of

Oregon,

Maiden Up-to-Date, A, ...

Manning, Henry Edward. The Car-
dinal Democrat, ....

Mannister, The Long Arm of,

Man's Hands, The ; and Other Stories,

Man Who Ended War, The,

Mariage, Discours du, ....

Marotz, .......

Meditations for the Use of Seminarians

and Priests, .....

Messianic Philosophy, ....

Missioner, The,

Modern Spiritualism, Sermons on,
Moral Instruction and Training in

Schools

Moral Theology for English-Speaking

Countries, A Manual of, .
Moreno, Gabriel Garcia, Regenerator

of Ecuador, ,

Naval Administration and Warfare,
Nizra, the Flower of Parsa,
OZuvres Sociales desFemmes,
Old Mr. Davenant's Money,
Orthodoxy, ......

Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land,
Paschal of Baylon, St , Life of, the

Saint of the Eucharist,
Patrology, ......

Pilgrim Walks in Franciscan Italy,

Pitman, Sir Isaac, The Life of,

Poe, Edgar Allan, ....

Power Supreme^The, ....

Presse Centre 1'Eglise, La,
Priestly Vocation and Tonsure
Princes and Princesses, The Book of, .
Principles of Logic, ....

Provence Mystique au XVIIe. Siecle, La,

Psychologie de PIncroyant,

Rand, Lewis, .....

Religion, A Short Defense of,
Religiosas, Las, ComentariosCanonico-

Morales, ......

Religious and Monastic Life Explained,

Republic, Ideals of the,

Roads to Rome, .....

See of Peter, The, and the Voice of

Antiquity

Spain, Sun and Shadow in,
Spiritual Life, A Treatise of,
Ten Personal Studies, ....
Thomas of Canterbury, St , The Holy
Blissful Martyr, ....

Thompson, Francis, Selected Poems of,
Trial of Jesus, The. From a Lawyer's

Standpoint,

Untrodden English Ways,
Van Rensselaer, Henry, S.J., Life and
Letters of,

822
nz

409

411

254

102
262

835
408

392
55^
114
III

411

261

839
250

401
401

406
39&
551

53»
831

400
829

837

III
408
690
117
407
830

691

259
264

696
410
405
694

694

549
411
679

392"
54*

545

826

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD,

VOL. LXXXVIII. OCTOBER, 1908. No. 523.

CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY.

BY VIRGINIA M. CRAWFORD.

#HEN the Women's International Council held its
quinquennial congress in Berlin some years ago,
it came as a surprise to all the foreign delegates,
and perhaps most of all to the English and Amer-
icans, to observe how high a level of activity and
organization prevailed among the women of Germany. The old
idea of the German hausfrau, absorbed in domesticity, held
firmly in marital subjection and wholly cut off from intellectual
pursuits, had to be abandoned forthwith, and a fresh conception
of our Teutonic sisters in closer conformity with the reality had
to be evolved. It seems probable that were the International
Council to hold its congress next year in Rome or Milan in-
stead of in Toronto a somewhat similar process of enlighten-
ment in reference to Italian women would be necessary for
many who have not been in touch with the recent growth
of feminism in the peninsula. They would once again be
filled with admiration for the activity and resourcefulness of
which an ever- increasing number of women in Northern Italy
are showing themselves capable. They would be amazed at
discovering the extent to which all the social and economic

IN THE STATE OP NEW YORK.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — I

$
2 CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY [Oct.,

problems in which the position of women is involved are dis-
cussed and understood, how extensive a feminist literature is
in existence, how keenly alive many Italian women are to the
importance of the questions involved. And they would find
this interest, not confined to a few cultivated women of the
upper classes, but spreading downwards among the wage-earners
of the nation and crystallizing into a national and popular de-
mand, if not as yet for women's suffrage, at least for greater
equality before the law, wider facilities for self-education, and
for a recognized means of making known the aspirations and
claims of their sex in the councils of the nation.

Something of all this has been made manifest to observers
by the national congress of Italian women that assembled in
Rome in the last week of April. The attendance was unex-
pectedly large and representative, the Queen graced the open-
ing meeting with her presence, and the popular Queen- mother
gave a garden party in honor of the delegates. Judging from
the Italian newspapers and magazines which devoted many col-
umns to describing the proceedings, the level of speaking was
remarkably good, and the discussions practical and to the point.
They covered a very wide field, over two hundred written pa-
pers being submitted to the congress; and the women discussed
subjects as diverse as illiteracy and the white slave traffic, the
means of fighting tuberculosis and the need of improved hy-
giene. They demanded the recherche de la paternite, the right
of married women to their own earnings, and various reforms
for teachers and post-office employees and telephone clerks.
They passed resolutions in favor of inculcating thrift in schools
and of improved technical training. They expressed the opin-
ion that feminine literature should be chaste and moral, that
women writers should be inspired by high and serious aims,
and that more books should be written for young people. In
short, it might well have been said, in spite of some exaggera-
tion of thought and of language, that the congress proved a
triumph for the women of Italy, had it not been for one inci-
dent as surprising as it was unfortunate. This was the vote on
religious education. On the proposition of Linda Malnati, a
well-known Socialist leader from Milan, the congress, by a large
majority, after a hasty and excited debate, declared itself in
favor of a system of purely secular education in the elementary
schools of the country, " out of respect for the liberty to which

1908.] CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY 3

a child's conscience is entitled." And this but a few weeks
after the Italian Chamber, as the outcome of a prolonged con-
troversy and a ten days' debate, gave a decisive vote in favor
of teaching the catechism wherever the parents desired it.

Needless to say this lamentable expression of opinion pro-
duced much excitement throughout the country. The Catholic
women delegates were loud in their protests, so much so that
the President of the congress, Countess Spalletti Rasponi, and
some others tried to explain away their vote as being less anti-
Christian in its intention than people assumed. Others have
attributed their protest against religious teaching in the schools
to the extremely unsatisfactory manner in which apparently it
is often imparted in Italy by state teachers, who have little or
no faith themselves. These explanations, however, do not carry
one very far, and many of the best friends of the feminist
movement in the peninsula, such as the well-known Rassegna
Nazionale, have hastened to dissociate themselves from a vote
which may go far to discredit the whole agitation. The Civilta
Cattolica, which has always been an unsympathetic critic of
emancipated womanhood, drew up and issued a vigorous and
effective protest against the Malnati resolution, as being "anti-
Christian, anti-patriotic, and anti-educational," and was enabled
to publish in its next issue (May 16) a long list of signatories
containing an imposing array of Roman patrician names. As
far as I have been able to ascertain, the vote, the outcome of
skillful engineering rather than of any widely spread convic-
tion, has met with openly expressed disapproval in all save
Socialist and definitely anti-clerical organs.

Personally the moral I draw from this regrettable incident
is the urgent need for the active participation of Catholic women
in all that concerns women's life and interests. It is a familiar
spectacle to see deliberate absentees wringing their hands over
what has been done in their absence. They usually forget that
they are responsible for what occurs only in a less degree than
the actual participants. Why were they not present to oppose
it? The days are gone by in Italy as elsewhere when women
could be content to be mere onlookers of contemporary poli-
tics; and if Catholics are not prepared to organize and educate
themselves for the defence of their ideals and beliefs, they will
undoubtedly witness the triumph of doctrines they detest. It
is at least a hopeful sign of the times that a magazine so con-

4 CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY [Oct.,

servative and orthodox as the Civilta Cattolica should, at this
juncture, have published an article from the pen of Pere Pavis-
sich, SJ. (June 6), emphasizing just this aspect of the problem.
No one will accuse the learned Jesuit of minimizing the impor-
tance of those very points on which the utterances of some of
the ladies assembled in Rome gave cause for alarm. But brush-
ing aside mere exuberance of language, and making allowances
for an occasional violence of denunciation due in part to the
excitement of the occasion, he has discerned the real importance
of the congress, and the value of much of the work accom-
plished by it. He has the courage to welcome what is, to
Italians, the innovation of a women's congress, and acknowl-
edges freely the need for women's co-operation in the solving
of social problems and their entire competency to pronounce
on many of the topics under discussion. He applauds all that
women have to say concerning thrift and co-operation, the need
for labor legislation and the special dangers of emigration for
women and children. He has nothing but praise for their treat-
ment of all subjects connected with maternity, with domestic
hygiene, with infant mortality, with the prevention of alcohol-
ism and of the spread of tuberculosis. Even on the more de-
batable ground of legal rights, he acknowledges that modern
Italian legislation has unfortunately adopted some of the worst
features of the Code Napoleon where women are concerned.
He admits the justice of the demand for the recherche de la
paternitc, for a single moral standard for men and women, for
a woman's right to her own earnings, and for a mother's right
to the guardianship of her children.

In a word, Pere Pavissich admits the essential reasonable-
ness of a feminist movement in all its fundamental claims, al-
though he doubtless differs from women as to the best manner
of enforcing necessary reforms. Where he rejects utterly the
views so widely expressed at the congress is in regard both to
religious education and to certain so-called moral teaching as-
sociated with the name of Ellen Key, the Swedish feminist
leader, to be imparted to young people. These are the very
subjects, he considers, on which Catholic women are bound to
make themselves heard, not only privately and in their indi-
vidual capacities, but publicly and collectively ; to oppose, as
Pere Pavissich expresses it, "action by action and congress
by congress," in order to demonstrate that Christian faith and

1908.] CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY 5

Christian morality can alone secure to woman her rightful po-
sition and inspire her to the heroic fulfilment of her mission to
the home and to society. The congress, then, in spite of its
regrettable features, has served the useful purpose of accentu-
ating the situation as far as Catholic women are concerned, and
making it plain just why and how their collective action is
needful. It has excited so much controversy in the Italian
press that the questions at issue can no longer be ignored by
any one, and there are already signs — apart from the article
quoted above — that Catholic women are being roused to a ful-
'ler sense of their national responsibilities. I am, however, far
from wishing to imply that hitherto they have wholly neglected
the wider religious interests of their country, or are lacking
competent leaders. Those who have followed at all closely the
development of events in Italy will testify to the very marked
increase in recent years of social and religious activity, more
especially in the cities of the north. A vast number of new
ceuvres of every kind have been established; a great impetus
has been given by women of the upper classes to the revival
of the peasant industries for which Italy in the past has been
so famous, such as lace-making, straw-plaiting, and the beau-
tiful drawn linen thread work ; much has been done to open
up new careers for girls as well as to improve their domestic
and industrial training; an effort is at length being made to
provide skilled nursing for the sick, and, in a general way, a
more intellectual appreciation is being shown of both the moral
and material needs of the working classes. The splendid work
due to the initiative of Mgr. Bonomelli, Bishop of Cremona,
on behalf of Italian emigrants of the navvy class, for whose
spiritual and educational welfare no one had labored, and in
which women have taken their share, is but one example of
the new progressive spirit that is informing Italian philanthropic
endeavor. Another is afforded by the growing importance of
the Italian sections of the international federations for the
abolition of state-aided vice, and the infamous white slave
traffic. Indeed, one has only to look through the pages of the
new illustrated magazine for women, the Vita Femminile Ital-
iana, which, in spite of certain tendencies one must deplore,
possesses many admirable and useful features, to realize with
how much vitality women's work is endowed and how varied

6 CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY [Oct.,

and numerous are the fresh departures that every month seems

to bring forth.

At the present time, too, a new Circolo Femmimle di Col-
tura or study-circle is being organized by Catholic women in
Rome with the express sanction of the Holy Father. To quote
from the preliminary programme, it is being started "in re-
sponse to the wishes of many Catholic women who have re-
mained hitherto outside the social feminist movement, but who
now realize the duty of taking part in it in an effective man-
ner. The Circtlo aims at unitiag all the sober energies of those
women who wish to defend and support the principles of Chris-
tian faith and morality and to participate on an intellectual
basis in the social movement of our day." The organizing
committee includes many well-known Roman patrician names,
and it is hoped that the Circolo will open its doors next Novem-
ber with a full course of lectures divided under three sections,
the religious, the social, and the legal.

The Roman ladies are clearly beginning in the right way,
by educating themselves, and this new organization, should it
prove successful, may exert a very real influence over the des-
tinies of the women of Italy.

Another hopeful sign is the improvement in girls' educa-
tion. It seems strange that in Italy it should ever have fallen
upon evil days and have grown both cramped and superficial,
when it is remembered that in the past the women of Italy
have been the most learned in Europe, and that lecture halls
and university honors and professorial chairs were open to
them long before their sisters of northern Europe had even
dreamt of knocking at college doors. Moreover some of the
most learned women that Italy has been delighted to honor
have also been the most devout: witness Elena Lucrezia Cor-
naro Piscopia, who conversed in seven languages and took her
degree at Padua in philosophy and theology and followed the
rule of St. Benedict in her father's house; or the later Maria
Gaetana Agnesi, who was urged by Pope Benedict XIV. to ac-
cept a mathematical professorship at Bologna, but who relin-
quished her public career in order to devote herself to the
poor of Milan. No one in their day ventured to assert that
learning in a woman was incompatible with true piety, or that
public lecturing was in any way destructive of feminine mod-
esty. It was the sinister influence of the French Revolution,

1908.] CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY To- DAY 7

with its reversion to the theories and ideals of ancient Rome —
always inimical to the high status of woman — that is the root
cause of the inferior education and restricted sphere of activity
accorded to the women of Italy from the close of the eight-
eenth century. It is only at the dawn of the twentieth cen-
tury that any real educational progress was achieved. To-day
the " gymnasiums " in various large towns, notably Rome and
Florence, throw open their classes to young people of both
sexes and are widely frequented by the girls of the middle
classes, while lycees and professional schools for older girls have
been opened in several cities. Year by year girl graduates are
more frequently met with, and if professional careers are still
difficult of access, an ever- increasing number of women are
studying medicine and surgery and even jurisprudence. Indeed
it would seem as though they were already taking possession
once more of those professorial chairs they once filled with so
much distinction, for quite recently Signora Rina Monti was
appointed professor of zoology at Sassari, after holding impor-
tant appointments both at Pavia and at Siena.

A natural outcome of the growing desire for educational
efficiency for girls is the revolt of some mothers against the
hitherto universal custom of consigning girls of the upper classes
to convent boarding schools for the whole of their education,
often allowing them home but once a year. It is hardly neces-
sary to emphasize for American readers the ill- effects of a sys-
tem that makes brothers and sisters strangers to one another,
and that keeps children for so many years away from the
parental roof, that when at length they return to it, they come
to no rightful place, no natural duties. Among those who are
taking the lead in this movement may be mentioned Countess
Sabina di Parravicino, one of the most distinguished women in
Milan to-day, herself the mother of daughters and an active
apostle of Christian feminism. She rightly holds that, however
admirable convent schools may be as aids to Christian education,
they cannot fulfil, and were never intended to fulfil, the whole
of a mother's duty towards her children. It is pleasant to
know that Pius X. has expressed himself strongly in favor of
home education under suitable circumstances. It must not be
forgotten that it is the worldly mothers who are the most de-
sirous of ridding themselves, in what is apparently an edifying
manner, of the responsibilities of motherhood, for children may

« CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY [Oct.,

be highly inconvenient witnesses of what happens in an ill-
regulated household. It is thoughtful, conscientious women
who want their little daughters under their own eye, and this
new tendency, far from springing from any indifference to re-
ligious education, is really an index of a purer and more whole-
some home life.

These, it may be said, are but side issues, and do not take
us very far in the direction of that active, independent career
that a Scandinavian or Anglo- Saxon woman can achieve for
herself. It is true that in Southern Italy, and more especially in
the smaller provincial towns, women of the upper and middle
classes still lead what to American and English women would
appear lives of almost oriental seclusion, scarcely venturing in
the streets unaccompanied by their husbands, and with inter-
ests limited to the most trivial subjects outside a purely do-
mestic range. Social conventions such as these are hard to
break down. Yet in all the great towns of the North much
has been accomplished, and ladies in Milan, Turin, and Genoa
are at least as free as their Parisian sisters. It is precisely in
these towns that there has been of recent years so remarkable
an outburst of philanthropic activity, so much real social effort
based on an understanding of actual economic conditions. And
it is too among the women of these cities that we find the be-
ginnings of a definite Christian feminist movement. They have
come in contact with the women workers in the Socialist camp,
they know the special dangers to faith that await the inex-
perienced novice in her first plunge into the controversies of
the day, and they have realized the need of providing a sound
platform from which Catholic women can speak out boldly to
the world. Some are developing practical social work on thor-
oughly Catholic lines; others, more tentatively, are pleading
with their pens for a fuller recognition of women's powers and
formulating the principles of women's activity in the social
and economic sphere. I have already mentioned the name of
Countess Sabina di Parravicino, who presided at the first con-
gress of Italian women held in Milan last year, and whose pen
does valiant service in the feminist cause. This congress was
organized in the main by an energetic group of Catholic women
in Milan, who issue a fortnightly publication, Pensieto e Azione,
and who seek to promote the co-operation of women in all
that bears upon their moral and economic progress. They

1908.] CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY 9

carry on an admirable educative propaganda among working
women on definitely Catholic lines, their most able spokes-
woman being perhaps Signora Adelaide Coari, who moved an
amendment in favor of religious instruction at the Rome con-
gress. Another name frequently to be met with in magazines
at the end of thoughtful articles on the woman question is that
of Teresita Friedmann-Coduri. The woman, however, who more
than any other is responsible for the rery existence of a fern
inist movement on Catholic lines, and whose name, well-known
to her countrymen, commands universal respect, is Luisa An
zoletti, a poetess of much charm, the biographer of Maria
Gaetana Agnesi, and the author of numerous books and pam-
phlets dealing with various phases of women's progress.

Luisa Anzoletti takes her stand boldly on her dignity as a
Christian woman, on her equality with man in the sight of
God, on the teachings and examples of Holy Scripture. If
she is a feminist it is because of, not in spite of, her creed,
and she advocates nothing that cannot be brought into har-
mony with orthodox Catholicism. Her devotion to the Church
is fully as intense as her devotion to the progress of her own
sex. Her teaching is reiterated through a vast number of con-
tributions to the newspaper press during the last fifteen years,
but in its main features it is summarized for us in a little
volume La Donna net Progresso Cristiano, first published in
1895 and since translated into French. At once penetrated
with Christian sentiment, and keenly sympathetic to the vary-
ing needs and aspirations of women to-day, the book aims at
showing that within the boundaries of Christian doctrine there
is ample scope for the intellectual and social emancipation of
women, whilst the assumed dangers of immorality, of neglect
of family duties, of scorn for the old-fashioned virtues of re-
nunciation and unselfishness sink into insignificance wherever
Christian teaching is firmly grasped, and devotion to our Lord
in the Holy Eucharist remains the active center of worship.
It is a mere agitation for rights, carried on in a materialistic
spirit, that is to be feared, not the insistence on a wider recog-
nition of women's duties and responsibilities, with a demand for
greater facilities to fit herself for them. In this book, written
some thirteen years ago, Signora Anzoletti notes the active
and intelligent propaganda carried on even then by women of
the Socialist party, and chronicles with grief the disorganized

10 CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY [Oct.,

condition of Catholic women in comparison, their lack of any
coherent policy, of any wide progressive spirit. Happily in the
eloquent address, published under the title " Le Finalita Civili e

11 Femminismo," that Signora Anzoletti delivered before the
Milan congress last year, she is able to adopt a more buoyant
tone. She rejoices in the marked change that has come over
not only the position of women in Italy, but of public opinion
towards women, and is able to claim that both the power of
ideas and the power of practical experience are on the side of
her sex in their striving for freedom and equality. I have
seldom read a more ably reasoned plea for the emancipation of
woman, or one more impregnated with the idealism that reli-
gion alone can inspire. To possess a leader such as Luisa
Anzoletti is a source of incalculable strength to the cause of
Christian feminism in Italy.

What first brought her name prominently before the pub-
lic was her action in reference to the reiterated attempts of
the Government, some six or seven years ago, to impose a
Divorce Act on the country. It is difficult for American or
English women to realize how much courage was needed for
an Italian lady to fling herself into a political agitation of that
character. But religious feeling throughout the peninsula was
profoundly stirred, and women felt that their home life was
imperiled and that it was their duty to defend it. Signora
Anzoletti placed herself at the head of the women's protest,
and held a series of conferences against divorce in many of
the chief towns of Northern Italy — Milan, Florence, Bergamo,
Pisa, Lucca, and others — conferences that were subsequently
summarized in a pamphlet that had a very wide circulation.
This pamphlet is an appeal not only to sentiment and religious
belief, but to justice and common sense, and sums up at once
with eloquence and moderation the whole Christian position.
The author is profoundly convinced of the practical evils that
a relaxation of the marriage-tie would entail, of the social
demoralization that would ensue, and the special hardships it
would inflict on women and children. One feels, as one reads,
that she flung herself into the controversy in much the same
spirit as that which urged Mrs. Josephine Butler, forty years
ago, to inaugurate her campaign against the state- regulation of
vice. There is the same shrinking from the subject to be
overcome only by a deep sense of the necessity for fighting a

1908.] CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY n

gigantic social evil. " It is," she writes, " the voice of religion
and of patriotism that summons us imperatively from the
peaceful domestic hearth, and an irresistible impulse which
springs from the depth of our hearts and fills us with a burn-
ing zeal." The Divorce bill was dropped at the time, and the
success of the agitation against it may be gauged from the
fact that not only has the proposal never been seriously re-
vived by the Government, but that although every conceivable
reform, desirable and undesirable, was urged at the recent con-
gress, not one woman ventured to lift up her voice in an at-
tack on the existing marriage-laws.

In administrative matters also, Luisa Anzoletti has set an
example that her Catholic countrywomen will do well to fol-
low. At Milan the Municipality is responsible for three large
historic institutions, an orphanage for boys, another for girls,
and the Pio Albergo Trivulzio, a hospice for old people, to
which Maria Agnesi devoted her declining years. These were
managed by a committee composed wholly of men, and it was
only when the Socialists some years ago obtained a majority
on the Town Council, that it was decided to place a woman
on the committee of management. The Socialist choice fell on
Signora Malnati, whose name has recently been so prominently
before the public in connection with religious education. No
regular religious instruction was given at that time to the
orphans, and certainly Signora Malnati did nothing to encour-
age it. When, some three years ago the Catholics returned to
power, they resolved to continue the presence of a woman on
the committee, but to select one from their own party, and
their choice fell on Signora Anzoletti. She accepted at once,
in spite of a natural shrinking from a post that requires much
tact and hard work, and frequent contact with councillors and
officials with whom she could have little in common. It was
an opportunity for work at once religious and civic, for it
gave her a controlling influence over the education of hun-
dreds of children. Since her election not only has she been
able to introduce regular religious teaching under the supervi-
sion of a priest, but she has carried on much-needed reforms
in the food and clothing of the orphans as well as in their in-
dustrial training. It is administrative positions such as this
that Catholic women should aim at filling, if they would save

12 CATHOLIC WOMEN IN ITALY TO-DAY [Oct.

the rising generation from materialism and religious indiffer-
ence. But they can only be filled by women of recognized
experience and a thorough understanding of municipal affairs.

Concerning the whole position of women, much to Ameri-
can readers will appear obvious and elementary that still
strikes the Italian as daring and even perilous. To judge of
the religious and social conditions of a country one must, for
the time, try to see things from that country's standpoint.
Catholic women in Italy have, in a measure, been brought by
recent events to the parting of the ways. Are they going to
form an active party of progress and strive by all lawful and
peaceable means for the triumph of their ideals and their faith,
as the women in the Socialist ranks are striving for theirs; or
are they going to stand aside, timid and helpless, as in a back-
water, while the stream of life flows irresistibly onwards? I
believe they are choosing the nobler alternative, and that they
will be cheered and helped by knowing that their efforts are
followed with sympathy by the women of other nations whose
easier lot is only to reap where their mothers have sown.

WITH A WHITE STONE.

BY JEANIE DRAKE.

[HERE was at least an elevator of sorts in the
Eyrie, so that tread-mill climbing of ten mys-
terious and musty staircases need not lay the
last straw to a wearisome day. " It is a mercy
to be thankful for," breathed the young man
who at his own landing slipped out of the little cage which
had crawled with him aloft; and he waved his hand in friendly
acknowledgment to a mostly unappreciated elevator boy.

This hireling of indifferent and discouraged aspect yet mut-
tered on his upward way with a trace of feeling: "That there
Mr. de Longy, now, he's kind o* sunshiny in this here black
old pit."

The subject of his eulogy had stopped before reaching his
especial doorway. A rapid survey ascertained that the length
of the dingy corridor was quite deserted and he leaned wearily
against the wall, closing for a moment his bright dark eyes
and stretching his slight figure to the extent of its inconsider-
able height. Then he went through a few physical culture
exercises, bending his lithe frame backward and forward, waving
his arms up and down, breathing deeply, his hands at his waist.
"Ha, that refreshes! I am myself again — once more elastic,"
he said in French; and with buoyant step and smile he en-
tered the door.

Within was a studio, well lighted enough but chillingly
bare. The occupant, a tall, squarely built man, stood near an
easel, and as he stepped backward to regard his work, waved
a hand holding palette and mahl-stick towards the newcomer
without looking at him.

" How goes it ? " asked the latter cheerily. " Well ? Su-
perbly ? A merveille ? "

"Marvelously enough," said the artist grimly. "The jani-
tor's robustious wife, whom you wheedled into ordering this
portrait, gave me her last sitting to-day. You may observe
the addition of three rows of gilt beads, the pendant ear-rings,
some extra green in the gown, some extra red in the cheeks,

I4 WITH A WHITE STONE [Oct.,

with a fatuous smile such as you and I have never seen her

wear."

"Ah well, the poor woman! We are rather slow pay.
But-except the smile-it is Rosanna herself, her very counter-
feit. She looks for once benignantly upon us, as who should
say : ' Be easy, mes beaux gaillards, when Michael announces
that the rent is long overdue, this gorgeous picture shall plead

for you/ "

"Gorgeous, indeed," agreed the painter, with disgust,
it not sickening to have to degrade one's art ? I beg your
pardon, old fellow. I'm none the less grateful for a way to
meet the rent; but let's cover the thing. I'll feel better when
it's out of my sight."

"Forget it," advised his friend airily, "and recuperate
yourself with that delicious little landscape, or that admirable
full-length of the great Anatole de Longy as Mercutio ; in
short, with any of the treasures for which one day art-collect-
ors will scramble. Meanwhile your gloom, if not due to Puritan
ancestry, is, perhaps, from hunger. Have you lunched ? "

"Not consciously."

"And it is late afternoon!"

" Luncheon is not an everyday affair with yourself."

"You have not reckoned, my good fellow, with the new
play. Our manager is a realist of realists. There is a sump-
tuous banquet in the third act to which no guest did greater
justice than your Anatole. If the manager's eagle eye was
upon me, I fancy he was appalled. But what would you after
no supper and a breakfast of caviare and hope ! The perish-
able props were 'perishable' and 'props 'in every sense. You
shall try for yourself." Whereupon, with gravity, he pro-
duced, from this inner pocket and that, some cold pate and a
broken yard, more or less, of crisp bread-stick. " There is
still a bottle of beer left in the cabinet — and there you are."

" Upon my word, de Longy," said the artist, relaxing into
an unwilling grin. " What sort of prank is this for a gentle-
man ? I wonder what your picture gallery of ancestors down
in New Orleans would say to such a tramp affair."

" Since they left their sole and graceless survivor to build
the family fortunes anew," said the ©ther unconcernedly, " the
gallery may frown. I smile, myself, to know that their illus-
trious name is regarded by the dear public as too obviously a

1908.] WITH A WHITE STONE 15

nom de theatre. Meanwhile, I wear what is my own, worthily,
I hope, if work may count."

"Nothing better yet?" Joyce stopped in his pacing to ask
with interest.

" Not yet," Anatole admitted. " If the leading man had
his appetite sharpened by my frequent fasts he might contract
in its satisfaction a gout which would be his understudy's
chance. But he is exasperatingly moderate and drinks water
only; and mine continues to be largely a thinking part."

"It can hardly be said," commented the painter, with
abrupt bitterness, " that things go very well with either of us,
waifs and strays from South and North, in the great city's howl-
ing wilderness. This monstrosity of a portrait — my one sale
within the month — pays something on account; but the bill to
the color-man swells, and your salary goes mainly for cos-
tumes in a high-flown, absurd drama, which gives you no
opening for talent or hard work. To-day is nearly over.
Even you cannot call it fortunate." He crossed the room to
where a bronze vase stood upon a table and dropped into it
a black pebble taken from a bowl beside it.

Anatole followed him, deliberately abstracted the black
pebble and calmly substituted a white one. "When we made
that agreement," he observed with serenity, " so to mark our
days as black or white in classic manner, it was certainly not
to be without duly remembering such mercies as came. To-
day, for instance, you finished Rosanna's picture, smile and all ;
and, it being your eyesore, it will be removed — and, inciden-
tally, paid for. As for me, I heard the great critic remark of
my lines: 'Not so rotten bad — considering the stuff.' Also I
lunched royally; and shall again to-night, God willing, sup
with Lucullus," he waved his hand dramatically at the bread
and pate.

"Optimist!"

"Pessimist! I hurl the epithet at you!"

" Hurl away; but we cannot live on air."

" Admitted. Therefore let us try the beer."

The heavy-browed , serious-faced young painter grinned
again, laying an affectionate hand on his companion's shoulder.
" One mercy I freely acknowledge. That to a sober-souled
fellow like me is granted a comrade with his forebears' Pro-
ven9al sunshine in his veins."

I6 WITH A WHITE STONE [Oct.,

"'A merry heart goes all the day,
A sad one tires in a mile — a,"

chanted Anatole, overcoming the last of such fatigue and dis-
piriting as his friend had not guessed. " I drink to better
times, when the jade Fortune shall pipe to our dancing. Mean-
while we laugh at her, work hard, and drink beer — when we
can get it. Come in," he added, as the clink of their glasses
chimed with a tap on the door.

A lady, young, graceful, gracious, was framed there hesita-
ting. Inconspicuous in dark street attire, the only points swiftly
to attract were the waving mass of chestnut hair snooded with a
black velvet ribbon, and the frank appeal of wide blue eyes.

" Mr. Joyce's room ? " she asked.

And " Miss Tredway ! " de Longy exclaimed at the same
moment. "You know Mr. Joyce?"

"Oh, a long, long time," she smiled; and Joyce already re-
alized that to have met a risen star behind the scenes where
she had been courteous, preoccupied, inaccessible, was quite
another thing from seeing Veronica Tredway in his own sur-
roundings— such as they were. He regretted the bareness and
bleakness as never before; he was internally conscious of the
crumbs and glasses; he deplored the fact that the cover had
slipped from the janitor's wife's picture. Yet both men received
her and her companion with entire simplicity and absence of
excuse.

"I am not sure," she said, "that it is permissible to in-
trude on a genuine work-room. But a fellow-worker, like my-
self, of scant leisure, cannot defer too much to straight-laced
convention."

" Except in the matter of a venerable chaperon," Anatole
jested, bowing to the silent, veiled figure beside her. "Shine
forth, little Isabel, from that matronly disguise and be an in-
genue once more."

The laughter of the two girls— Miss Tredway was but twenty-
four—made pleasant music through the rooms. " She would in-
sist, the baby, upon dressing the part in my interest," declared
Veronica, looking kindly at the pretty, childish face and form,
now relieved of cumbrous veil and wrap.

The ice so broken, she turned to Joyce, delightfully at ease.
"Mr. de Longy has said so much to me of your work that I

i9o8.] WITH A WHITE STONE 17

am impatient to see it. You have not yet exhibited ? No, it
takes time in a swarming city for recognition of gifts. You
will show me what you have here — -but especially his portrait,
will you not ? He says it is a masterpiece."

"Allow for friendly prejudice," said Joyce. "Though if I
am to attain at all, it will be in portraiture. You know your-
self, in another way, of the fascination of studying and depicting
human nature as one sees it through outward manifestations."

Her glance fell on Rosanna's picture and she repressed a
smile. She went murmuring and admiring though the room ;
but before de Longy's portrait she stood long and absorbed.
"It seems almost alive," she said at last. "What a delight-
ful Mercutio ! Some day, Monsieur de Longy, some day."
The young men watched her as she wound her boa about the
firm white throat which carried her head so finely. " Your art,
Mr. Joyce — ah, that endures. You leave proofs of greatness;
but we play-actors shall bequeath nothing but an ever-fading
tradition; and must have present cheers and hand- claps to keep
us in heart. Come, little Isabel, it is time to dress and dine and
prepare for the evening's mumming. We have had our treat
here — thanks to Monsieur Anatole." The great, lucent eyes
of quick sympathy which held her audiences, had divined the
meaning of their scanty belongings, of the flamboyant Rosanna's
portrait, of even the thin, sallow, distinguished woman's photo-
graph, with its cheap knot ot violets in front, glimpsed before
Anatole closed the inner door. And now they met Joyce's
gaze intent upon her in a long, unfathomable instant. Then
she had laughingly drawn Isabel with her in a backward curt-
sey through the doorway, reciting:

" ' Ce sont des marionettes qui font, qui font
Trois petits tours, et qui s'en vont.' '

" Fresh justification for to-day's white stone," exulted Anatole.

"Your kind contrivance once more, my dear fellow," said
the artist quietly. He was carefully re-covering Rosanna's ear-
rings. " If your star were a capitalist, now — "

" She is better. She is an artist and a charming woman ;
and, above all, a lady. It was an accident — the stage — for her ;
a happy one, since she has success. But how she works ; and
for the sake of a paralyzed father whose home, after bank-
ruptcy and illness, is now assured. That is the household —

VOL. LXXXVIIL — 2

1 8 WITH A WHITE STONE [Oct.,

simple, quiet, almost bourgeois. Lately she has included Isa-
bel, that she may keep an eye on a thoughtless, unprotected
girl in her teens, subject to much dangerous dalliance. I hear
that the gilded youth, when not of Miss Tredway's adorers,
call her ' The Fair Dragon/ on account of Isabel. "

" It does her honor/' said Joyce after a pause ; but de
Longy within was already preparing for the theater while he
whistled: " Sur le pont d* Avignon"

To one of them the memory of this visit, to the other daily
association with the visitant, were for long the only reasons for
the white stone which Anatole ceremoniously deposited in their
urn each evening, to the accompaniment of the painter's scoffs.
Obstinate cheerfulness disclaimed need for discouragement in
lack of histrionic opportunity, in scarcity of picture-buyers, in
accumulating debt, in precarious dependence on " perishable
props," in the janitor's returning unfriendliness. The grayer
the skies, the more debonairly he whistled : " Sur le pont
d' Avignon"

" I am of Democritus' school," he explained. " Thus one
creates an enlivening atmosphere. Does not the primer of my
childhood say :

" * Quand un gend'arme rit
Dans la gendarmerie.
Tons les gend'armes rient
Dans la gendarmerie, '

"Kindly laugh, mon gros gendarme"

Now and then he triumphed in bringing some modest order
to his friend, the purchaser anonymous. " I only exact as
commission that you come and see me in this ridiculous play,
which Miss Tredway has made the vogue."

Joyce, acceding to this, was amazed that he had not oftener
availed himself of the passes at his service. "You should
mount high in your art," he told de Longy later. "With your
star as inspiration, a man could do— almost anything."

"Avail yourself of her rays, then, when you will/' said de
Longy, but he spoke abstractedly; and it seemed an echo of
his thought when the painter presently inquired:

" Who was the stout, florid man that claimed Miss Tred-
way's every moment between the acts. Since when has she
been so smilingly tolerant of distraction from her part?"

1908.] WITH A WHITE STONE 19

" You must know Percy Chadwell — man about town, pluto-
crat, art-collector."

" By reputation only."

"Oh, well," in answer to the unexpressed, "one cannot tell
a woman everything. She only knows that his Barye bronzes
are the finest in the world, and that he refused twenty thou-
sand last week for a Mir- Saraband rug. But" — a sudden red
mounting to his fine temples — " he is likewise an animal whose
presence in the same room is profanation to her. Yet he has
been all over the world, is immensely clever, and has a tongue
to wile the birds off the bushes. Also he is intently pursuing
her, and would even marry her. It would be only to get a di-
vorce on one pretext or other in a year or two ; and, voila, he is
free again. But what about her who has no place in her
maidenly thoughts for indiscriminate marrying and unmarrying
and re-marrying ? Do you know, Joyce, that — that lovely child
is as devout as was my venerated mother. Because work hours
interfere with attendance at the early morning Mass at our
church, she slips in unobtrusively for daily devotions in the
quiet afternoon — which I know by merest chance. You may
fancy that when he speaks of ' la belle Veronique ' to me and
others, with just the faintest suggestion, how I long to strike
him across the face."

" Why not do it then ? " Joyce asked very softly and with
downcast eyes.

" Because I should put myself hopelessly in the wrong,
even with her."

"Yes"; the artist agreed after a pause. Then he straight-
ened his shoulders and threw back his head. "See here, de
Longy, you disquiet yourself without cause — you may believe
me. She being what she is, and of fine and delicate percep-
tions, is perfectly safe in virtue of — what shall we call it — a
heaven-born instinct which will divine him vaguely but suffi-
ciently. In proof of which conviction, I deposit the stone to-
night."

He was at work alone a few days later when Miss Tred-
way once more illuminated his studio. " We are fortunate to
find you, Mr. Joyce. You have, perhaps, met Mr. Chadwell.
Isabel, I am sure you have. I very much want Mr. Chadwell
to see your work. He is, you know, one of the directors; as
well as a noted connaisseur"

20 WITH A WHITE STONE [Oct.,

Joyce saluted gravely and placed chairs; but the art- col-
lector chose to roam about the room, peering at this or that
picture or portfolio, with small, half-shut eyes, while he tapped
his silk hat with a glove. Meanwhile Isabel yawned a little,
caring nothing at all about art for art's sake ; and Veronica,
after a few words with Chadwell under de Longy's portrait,
spoke to Joyce with soft precision, that he might not know
how her heart was beating.

" Since I have seen your Mercutio, Mr. Joyce, I have
dreamed of being immortalized in the same way ? Would you
care to undertake it? Should I be a troublesome subject?
Would it need many sittings ? "

He answered the last question first, and very slowly, that
she might not guess how his heart — in its turn — had leaped.
" One cannot say decidedly how many sittings a subject will
need. It depends upon a variety of things. But, no; you
would not be — troublesome." He could not keep a change out
of his tone. "It would be a wonderful chance for me."

Chadwell at this turned and joined them. He said in an
uninterested, monotonous way, which, curiously, held attention :
" Your Mercutio, Mr. Joyce, convinces me that Miss Tred-
way's design is excellent. In fact" — he peered again at the
portrait — " if it should prove equal to that, I have some in-
fluence with the Committee and can insure its being hung on
the line, perhaps; but we shall see. For the present, I should
like to know your price for this marine."

Joyce stepped apart with him, discussed, made courteous
acknowledgment, while an inner voice warned of the Greeks
bearing gifts.

"I know the great news, you need not tell me," said de
Longy, after the visitors' departure. He was a little pale,
even while he heartily congratulated.

I owe this chance to you, too. I wish it was your own."

" All in good time," with cheerful confidence, " that will
come. But what sticks in my throat is that he was advising
her, when I passed them— and masterfully — in which role she
might best be painted."

" He need not trouble," said the painter drily, " I will at-
tend to matters of detail, myself. It was her own arrange-
ment, however, that the sittings shall be at her home. The
light is good— a certain high-backed chair, effects of costume

1908.] WITH A WHITE STONE 21

easily accessible, and so on. But you may like to know my
belief that it was intended to exclude that man."

" Her inflexible rule," assented de Longy thoughtfully, " is
to receive no one there. Yet I heard her say that she wished
the portrait's perfection to be a surprise to him."

The painter said no more, but he pondered silently on the
connection between her recent marked graciousness to the mil-
lionaire, the munificent price she had casually mentioned for
the picture, and the place promised for it to an artist yet un-
known by the collector and probable purchaser. He was daily
troubled during these sittings, where her beauty and charm
fed his growing passion. " It would not be fair, it would not
be right, it would be monstrous ! " he thought. " If I had but
the ghost of a chance — but who am I ! I could even give her
up to de Longy — but this creature ! A brute ! " He spoiled a
bit of drapery and had it to do over.

De Longy had long ago, with Gallic quickness, leaped to a
conclusion — and he could have kissed the fairy princess* hem ;
yet he was disquieted, not knowing into what ensnaring in-
debtedness generous intention might lead. Between the friends
nothing was exchanged on the subject but an occasional : " How
goes it?" and its answer: "Well enough."

" You will come, Monsieur Anatole," at last Miss Tred-
way commanded, " to the Very Exclusive View which precedes
the Private View. And you must find my picture delightful.
For it is to make your friend's fortune." It was a shadow
of his thought when she added : " Mr. Chadwell desired very
much to see me pictured en grande tenue — even offered the
loan of his world-famous rubies; but I am sure Mr. Joyce's
choice was wiser."

The artist's choice, indeed, had been simplicity itself; yet
it was a wonderful study which gazed at them standing under
where it was to hang on the Academy's wall. In compelling
beauty of tint and line she confronted them, clad in filmy,
clinging white against the high-backed chair, with no ornament
but the roses she held, these being also white. The little group
gazed silently, isolated almost, amid bustle and din of hurrying
artists and their intimates and workmen hammering. If Percy
Chadwell had been irritated at opposition to him in the matter
of costuming he showed nothing now but an almost arrogant
satisfaction. It was he who spoke first.

WITH A WHITE STONE [Oct.,

"Admirable, admirable, quite admirable!" He stepped
backward and forward, contracted his eyes and narrowed their
vision with hollowed palm. " I thought it wonderful when I
saw it last week; but it has reached absolute perfection since
then. I congratulate you, Miss Tredway, and you, Mr. Joyce,

and myself, .above all, for you have, of course, known me for

the owner. The public should know it, too — in your interest;
a certain prestige — I am supposed," raising his eyebrows, " to
be something of a judge of such work." He took the green
ticket already in the frame and added some words, returning it.

Veronica read in large and clear letters: "Sold — to Mr.
Percy Chadwell." She was very still for a moment or so, then
raising her eyes they encountered those of Joyce, and he, like
herself, had paled and was breathing quickly.

The millionaire, exulting in his acquisition, descanted in lei-
surely manner on line and color, on background, light and sha-
dow to Anatole de Longy, who watched Veronica. She was
in pale spring costume and carried a fluffy parasol of the same
delicate tint. She used it now to point to a Dutch interior
being hung just above where her picture leaned; and her move-
ments struck him as unusually abrupt. She made now a sud-
den turn, wheeling, and: "Take care !" he cried; but too late,
for the sharp ferule had gone through the portrait, gashing the
canvas across the face.

"Oh! Oh!" shrilled Isabel; and " Ah— h ! " said Chad-
well very slowly.

The young actress went straight to Joyce. "Will you for-
give me? Can you forgive me? Do you forgive me?" she
pleaded with outstretched hands.

" I will— I can— I do," he assured her firmly.

Chadwell had set his teeth savagely for the moment; but
already his stolid composure was the same and he continued
to tap his hat with his glove. " It was a most unfortunate-
accident," he then said deliberately, "by which I am the chief
loser. Though Mr. Joyce "—with slow significance— " might
also be so to a very considerable extent. But to prove to the
fair subject that I am assez bon diable, as you might say, Mr.
de Longy— in other words, a good loser— we need not with-
draw Mr. Joyce's name or give his space to some one else. We
can substitute your picture as Mercutio. If you will excuse
me, I will see some of the Committee now here about it." He

i9o8.] WITH A WHITE STONE 23

went off heavily, but undoubtedly with some of the honors of
war.

While de Longy led Isabel on a perfunctory tour of the
rooms, the artist and Veronica had opportunity for sentences
together, few, low, disconnected even, yet such as sent him
home with an uplift of the heart and a light in the eye which
he fancied to be unobserved.

" It is curious," said Anatole, speaking heavily, " how little
a woman counts the cost where she sacrifices for some cher-
ished interest. But she will not always pay the price ; no, she
will not always pay the price, in the end. All the better for
you, my fine fellow," and he kissed his hand with a factitious
gayety to the Mercutio, which was to be moved in the
morning.

It had hung on exhibition some days before the original ran
into his manager among a discerning crowd beneath it. "I see
you are gloating upon the beauty of one of your troupe," ob-
served Anatole.

" I am admiring the workmanship," said the manager, who
knew something of art himself; " also, the green ticket. I hear
it has brought a fine price, and much talk about the artist.
He has, probably, arrived." He drew de Longy to one side.
"The costume becomes you sufficiently well, and it has sug-
gested— " He did not mention that Caustic, the great journal's
dramatic critic had just left him. "What should you say to
trying the part in a revival before long ? Now, don't go too
fast and imagine the part a stepping-stone to Romeo's. The
gifts that make Mercutio do not belong to great passions."

"You really think so," said de Longy lightly — " that a sense
of humor cannot consort with a deeply-buried, hopeless, unre-
lenting pain about the heart ? Perhaps you are right ; yet there
be men — I have known them — who laugh at everything, even
themselves."

He ran fleetly down the Academy steps, humming: " Sur
le pont d* Avignon." Obstinate hopefulness was justified. His
name identified with this noted picture should be so with the
part, if work could do it. And he knew himself capable of
fine work; had heard that Caustic said so pertinaciously and
sometimes aggressively. What a horizon of opportunity recog-
nition of good work would open up. His olive cheek warmed,
his dark eyes glowed. "For these and all Thy mercies," he

24 WITH A WHITE STONE [Oct.

murmured, in a long-forgotten memory of childhood ; and he
started to cross the mid-street babel.

And then a huge, clanging automobile bore down upon him.
He could have escaped, perhaps, but in its direct path faltered
a tiny, ragged, bewildered child, and in seizing and throwing
her to one side he was struck down and crushed. When once
more conscious, he was lying inert and bandaged upon a hos-
pital bed, and Joyce was near him.

"They found your address on a card," the artist explained
with effort, " and I was, luckily, at home."

" I remember," whispered Anatole, " but — the mother's pic-
ture there, on the table — and all those violets?"

"Veronica's thought," said Joyce. "She is below."

He did not know he had said "Veronica," but the injured
man was silent for a space. " It is serious, then," he said.
" How long have I ?"

"They — they cannot say. Not very long. She — she also
thought — there is a priest with her — a Frenchman."

" Yes, I will see him." Afterwards he slept, and when he
waked asked for Veronica. He called her that himself now, quite
assuredly and very tenderly. " It was a little girl, I think ? "

"Yes"; she said softly.

" I should like to believe — that she had been saved for
something good."

" It shall be so if I can — " her voice broke.

" Why "—unconquerable cheeriness still in the faint tone —
" it is well worth it, then. Did you know I was to have a fine
part soon — my chance ? "

" Arrington has been to inquire," said Joyce, not trusting
himself further.

" No more perishable props, eh, old boy ? It was great fun,
though."

He wandered for awhile, muttering: "A pity, too, that
cut across the sweet face — not so deep as a well nor so wide
as a church-door, but it served."

When himself again, he smiled upon Joyce : " Promise, prom-
ise me faithfully, that to-night of all nights a white stone is
put in."

His comrade nodded. "With faith, hope, and some love,"
murmured Anatole, "the passage is not hard— the readiness is
all. Remember, Joyce, a white stone."

ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.*
BY FRANCIS AVELING, D.D.

CHAPTER XXXV.

JHREE mounted travelers were slowly making their
way towards the old port at Houlgate, from which
their Norman ancestors, two hundred years be-
fore, had set sail to the conquest of England.
They were traveling slowly, apparently because
one of their party was infirm ; for, though all three rode armed,
his hood was unstrapped and lay back upon his neck. Also,
he leaned forward painfully in his saddle, as though unable to
sit erect upon his horse. Two rode together behind, the sick
man, and another, whose nasal helmet hid what otherwise might
have been seen of his visage through the opening in his hood.
At his saddle-bow hung the helmet of the other. The man
who rode ahead was clothed in a leathern jerkin over which hung
a loose vest with arms, made of rough hempen stuff diapered
all over with stout twine knots. His hood was of padded cloth
under the low cylindrical headpiece. This was Roger equipped
for travel. The two who rode behind him were the knight,
Sir Sigar, and his squire, de Valletort.

They had journeyed through France and Normandy from
Paris, and were drawing near to their journey's end. Only a
few leagues lay between them and the sea; for already they
had left Evreux in the rear and were making towards Caen.

All along the route they traversed they had found the
castles being fortified, as if for war. This, they learnt, was by
order of the King of France. Masons and armorers and vic-
tuallers they had met in plenty, together with bodies of soldiers
on the march. But, avoiding for the most part castles and
fortresses, they had lodged where possible in the guest-houses
of the monasteries and friaries they had passed. Everywhere

* Copyright in United States, Great Britain, and Ireland. The Missionary Society of St.
Paul the Apostle in the State of New

26 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

they had been well and kindly received, with the ready hos-
pitality that made the religious establishments of the time so
famous. And indeed, but for the guest-house and the hos-
pitable cloister, traveling would have been almost as generally
uncomfortable as it was often dangerous. Besides, what with
the bustle and activity of the army of workmen at every cas-
tle, village, and town, accommodation of even the poorest kind
would have been scant. The old knight preferred the quiet and
peace of a Franciscan or Dominican house, or the more stately
lodging of some great monastic establishment, to the precari-
ous chance of an honest landlord and a sober crowd in an inn.

Many of the monks or friars at the religious houses where
they stopped had heard of Vipont and his pilgrimage to Rome,
for there was an almost constant stream of people crossing be-
tween England and France, and news of all sorts passed rap-
idly from place to place. Doubtless those who had heard ot
the murder or remembered it, had expected to see a murderer
of a very different type from that which Sir Sigar presented ;
and many were the glances of pity and commiseration bent
upon the aged and feeble old man as, having thanked his good
hosts for their hospitality, he rode away, bowed and dejected,
from the convent door.

Now they had reached a desolate tract of country. There
seemed to be no building of any kind in sight, and the sky
lowered threateningly. The road, too, was deserted and the
beams of the sun, filtering through the murky, piled-up clouds,
warned them to press on if they would find lodging within walls
either sacred or secular before the threatening storm broke
upon them.

Arnoul was doing his best to animate the flagging spirits of
the sick knight and urge him onwards towards some place of
shelter ; while Roger, faithful scout as he was, forged ahead
to discover some sign of habitation where they might find re-
freshment and a bed for the night. In less than an hour the
sun would have set, and the road was not altogether a safe one,
even for three armed travelers. A peasant, who had pointed
the way out to them a few leagues back, had warned them of
the danger. Marauding bands of robbers were not infrequently
to be met with on the way to the coast. In particular he bade
them be on their guard when they reached a certain wood, the
features of which he described minutely to them. For here

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 27

the road passed near the castle of a lord who found it more
profitable to waylay and rob small parties of travelers than to
grind the faces of his own unfortunate serfs and tenants. The
peasant had spoken bitterly — doubtless with reason — and had
repeated his warning when their paths sundered.

By Amours computation they should not reach the wood
in question at the rate they were traveling for a good two
hours ; and he hoped to find shelter long before that. Roger
was on the lookout in advance. So his chief preoccupation was
to cheer his companion, and to draw his mind from the mel-
ancholy brooding that had settled upon it.

" Hasten ! We must hasten, my lord, if we would find a
harbor from the night and the weather," the young squire was
saying, as he tried to stir the jaded spirits of his companion.

The knight looked up vacantly. " Aye ; we must make
speed," he said. But his horse jogged ahead as before, and he
made no effort to spur it on. Then he fell to musing aloud.

"Bethink you, de Valletort, are we right, thou and I, thus
riding together side by side — I who slew thy brother and thou ?
Have I not done thee a further wrong, joining thee thus in
the company of one who is blood-guilty?"

" Peace, peace, I pray you, Sir Sigar ! " pleaded the young
man. " Have I not forgiven thee ? Has not the Holy Father
loosed the bonds of thy sin ? Did not Brother Thomas bid
me take service with thee as thy squire ? "

"Yea; yea and nay. Oh, accursed sinner that I am ! I
repent me of my evil deed. God wot, I would wipe it out in
my own blood — my own blood ! But hither ride we together,
thou and I — thou the victim and I the slayer; and the price
of thy service is my daughter Sibilla. Oh, de Valletort, re-
lease me of my promise ! I cannot, I dare not buy thy recon-
ciliation thus ! "

" Release thee ? That will not I ! " said Arnoul through
set teeth. " I have forgiven thee — fully and from my heart.
But thou hast promised, my lord. Thou hast promised upon
thy knightly word. I hold thee to it. I serve thee for thy
daughter's hand. For a year will I serve thee — for two, three
years if thou wilt, and until I have found a lord to make me
knight. But I shall not go back. Thou would'st not have me
go back upon my resolve. Nay, lord; thou thyself would'st
not break thy engagement, cost what it may ! "

J
28 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

"True words! True words!" the knight murmured as if in
pain. "I have pledged my knightly word. I, who am an out-
cast and an accursed being, have given my promise. I will

hold to it."

" Then away with these sick fancies, my lord ! Set spurs
and let us ride apace ! There is Roger hurrying back towards
us. Doubtless he has discovered a place of refuge for the
night. And the storm is on the point of breaking. See, yon-
der, how the tongues of lightning flash ! Even an outhouse or
a cavern were something in this waste ! "

The knight lurched yet further forward in his seat, silent
and brooding. He took no interest, so it seemed, in the find-
ing of shelter. During all the time that de Valletort had been
his squire he had not seen him so depressed. So he rallied
him with cheering words as they jogged forward to meet the
returning Roger.

It was soon apparent that he brought other news than the
discovery of a building where they might take refuge. He
sat low and rode hard, galloping up to them through the
gathering storm-darkness.

"Master Arnoul ! Master Arnoul ! " he shouted along the
road. " For the love of God make speed forward, an you
wish to win your spurs ! Travelers in distress. And two of
them mere lads ! Set upon by a band of ruffians ! "

He drew a short sword as he panted out the words and
turned his horse in the direction from which he had just
come.

"What is that you say, Roger?" cried Arnoul sharply, un-
hooking, as he spoke, Sir Sigar's helm from his saddle bow
and passing it over to the knight.

Vipont sat up in his saddle with a strange glare in his
sunken eyes, and commenced fumbling at the strap of his
hood in preparation to putting it on. The lightnings were
playing fast now, and great, sparse drops of rain fell heavily
upon the frightened horses and their riders.

"What is it, Roger? Who are these travelers? How far
off? How know you they be attacked by villains?"

"Parley not, good master, for the love of Christ, but
come!" cried the man, with difficulty reigning in his panting,
trembling steed. "Or, ere you can reach them, they are
done ! I saw the party riding, as we, for shelter. A band of

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 29

armed cutthroats sprang sudden from the thick wood by the
roadway. They are close at hand. The spur, Master Arnoul !
The spur, for God's love; and to the rescue!"

Even Sir Sigar was stirred. He shook off the melancholy
that possessed him and urged de Valletort on.

"Go! I shall follow; and if any fight be left in these old
bones—"

But at the word Arnoul was off and at full gallop down
the road. The lambent flashes flickered on his drawn blade
and seemed to ripple like water up and down the bright steel
rings of his mail.

"England!" he shouted, "and Vipont ! " whirling the
sword above his head and changing his buckler from its sling
to his left arm. Roger, shouting out advice, lumbered heavily
at his' side.

" There are four of them, master — two sturdy knaves and
two striplings."

"How many against them?" Arnoul shouted back.

"I could not count. Six or seven, they seemed. The
knaves had reined in and drawn sword. I saw no blazon."

" They were hard pressed ? "

"The assailants — some mounted, one or two on foot — bore
iron maces, glaives, and daggers. A felled trunk blocked the
passage."

"Forward then!" cried Arnoul. "Press forward!"

A sh'arp turn in the road brought them suddenly in sight
of the attack. One of the men was dismounted — his horse fly-
ing riderless down the road. Setting spurs, Arnoul took the
low barrier and was at once in the thick of the unequal com-
bat, Roger still at his side. The assailants turned, with fierce
oaths, to the newcomers. Now the fight was closer matched —
six armed men to nine, two of whom were on foot. One of
these had closed with the unhorsed knave. The leader of the
attack, a huge man clad in rusty black armor, wheeled sud-
denly and made for de ValJetort, whirling a spiked iron club
high above his head as he came at him. An unsheathed dag-
ger glinted at his waist-strap as he sawed with his left hand
at the shortened reins. Arnoul raised his buckler to intercept
the descending blow, his arm bent at the elbow to lessen the
shock. A sharp clang of metal upon metal and the arm fell
limp and powerless at his side. The edge of the buckler had

J
3o ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

turned the heavy mace aside, but it was bent and crumpled
like a piece of paper.

But the squire had not only been on the defence. As his
opponent swung the heavy weapon up for a second blow, he
stood up in his stirrups and brought his sword down with a
sickening crunch upon the other's arm. The good steel quiv-
ered with the force he put into it, and the mace fell harmless.
Again the arm was raised to strike, and a second time the
sword descended on it, this time breaking off short in Arnoul's
hand with the violence of the impact. The man, with a yell
of pain, dropped the mace from his nerveless fingers. It hung
dragging by its rawhide thong from his wrist.

In the meantime, a second man had crept up, knife in hand,
and crouched near the prancing horses. He was awaiting an
opportunity of hamstringing de Valletort's charger. But Roger,
seeing him, shook himself free from his assailant and, leaning
over, drove the point of his sword into the back of the scoun-
drel's neck. There was a wrench, a jerk, and the body fell
forward under the hoof-beats, the head nearly severed from its
trunk.

" One ! " shouted Roger grimly, wheeling back upon his
former combatant with dripping sword. But the two men of
the original party had already accounted for another, while a
third, catching sight of Vipont riding up, made off into the
thick tangle of the woods.

De Valletort and his assailant were now both crippled.
Only, the life was coming back again now into the younger
man's arm. The other shook himself clear of the useless mace
and, dropping rein, caught at the dagger and lifted his left
arm to strike; but, as Arnoul reached for the short, pointed
sword that hung at his saddle bow, the great horse slipped and
he found his opponent fighting on the ground.

Quick as thought he saw his danger. He could never cope
with it as long as he was mounted. So, with a glance to see
that all were occupied in a hand to hand fight, he slipped from
the saddle and rushed at him. The point of his weapon glanced
harmlessly off the other's armor as he cut and thrust. Both
men slipped and slid in the rain-beaten clay. It was as much
as he could do to keep his footing, and parry the lightning-
like strokes of the gleaming dagger upon his shield. The man
in rusty armor seemed to possess the strength of ten. He was,

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 31

for all his huge bulk, as agile as a cat, springing hither and
thither over the greasy clay and directing a perfect rain of
blows upon the squire's shield and mail. Arnoul pressed for-
ward and drew back again warily, his breath coming sharp and
quick as he summed up his chances. There was one at least,
he thought, that might bring the struggle to a speedy end if
he could but make it serve him. The man wore a helmet with
a nose piece of bars shaped something like an open fan. At
all other points he was invulnerable to a dagger thrust. Here,
at least, he might be wounded. Drawing back for an instant
he let his adversary press on, holding his round shield the
while before his face and evading, rather than parrying, the
stabbing weapon. Then, with a hiss of indrawn breath, he
lifted his short steel blade to the level of the man's head and,
heedless of blows, rushed at him. The dagger struck the steel
bars of the nose piece, glanced off, and found an entry. The
man screamed with pain ; but Arnoul, getting his shield up
close against his breast so that his adversary was powerless to
strike other than sideways at him, thrust his dagger again and
again between the bars. Twice — thrice it struck steel; but
something warm trickling down its blade and soaking through
his gauntlet, warned him that his enemy was wounded. At
last the point pierced deep. With a shriek the man fell, tear-
ing the dagger, wedged tight between the bars, from Arnoul's
hand. The point had gouged the eye and entered his brain.
He was dead.

De Valletort was unarmed. His sword was broken, his
dagger wedged by the hilt between the bars of the dead man's
helmet. And the fight was not yet done. In the struggle he
had worked his way to the side of the road ; but Roger, he
could see and hear, was giving battle yet manfully to two as-
sailants, and the strangers were still hard pressed man to man.
He stumbled across the roadway. On a sudden he caught
sight of the fallen mace. Seizing it, he hurried up to Roger's
assistance and, coming behind one of the two men, brought it
down with a crash on the back of his steel cap. He rolled off
his horse and fell like a log.

"Two! Well struck, my master!" shouted Roger. "Go
you now to the rescue of the others. God's blood! but I can
settle a score here. Get your horse, though, first; or else
mount this one."

32 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

The man's words came in gasps. He had been fighting hard,
and blood was running down his face.

But Arnoul remained on foot. The rain had ceased now,
and the lightnings came fewer and fewer. The roadway was
aplash with greasy mire. It was safer on foot.

Before him he saw the dismounted man throw up his arms
and fall with a groan. His assailants made off to help his
fellows. They were five now — two on foot and three mounted
—against three. De Valletort pressed on towards them, whirl-
ing the mace. A high pitched shriek rang out as one of the
riders went down ; and a muttered oath was cut short by the
heavy thud of his ponderous weapon. Four to three! No;
four to four, for there was Vipont himself riding with his
sword drawn. Before the knight could come to close quarters
Arnoul had disabled another man who was in the act of drag-
ging the unhorsed rider towards the woods at the side of the
road. He stooped down and laid his hand over the man's
heart, but the armed hauberk effectually prevented his feeling
the beats.

"Saints!" he exclaimed, astonished, as he perceived the
loose set of the mail upon the figure. "'Tis a child, at most,
they have wounded. The brutes! To set upon children in
this guise ! " And, picking up the inert body in his arms, he
bore it away from the plunging horses to a place of safety
near the barrier. Then, without more ado, he turned to re-
join his companions.

But the fight was finished. Of the sixteen who had en-
gaged in it five were lying stretched upon the ground. Roger
had his steel cap off and was wiping the blood and sweat from
his face. Sir Sigar sat proudly in his saddle as he thrust his
sword — there was a stain on it, too — into its sheath. A man
sat stupidly in the roadway rubbing his head. All the assail-
ants who were not wounded or dead had run away.

"Here is a fine thing!" said Vipont with a smile. "We
set out to make our way peaceably to England and we meet
with the adventures of the knights errant ! Bravely done !
Nobly fought, my son! I watched your blade make pretty
work of yonder carcass. Would to God I could have come to
your assistance ! Nay ; glad am I that my horse would not
take the barrier, since you have thus knightly acquitted your-
self alone ! For this deed you shall have your golden spurs.

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 33

It is worthy of knighthood. Though, indeed, even I worked
one small work. That man " — he pointed to the fellow sitting
in the middle of the road and grinning stupidly — " will have
cause to remember my sword. Come, scoundrel, who are you
and who are these gentlefolks that you have attacked ? "

The man rubbed his head, getting his scattered wits to-
gether. His had been a shrewd blow. He gave no very in-
telligible answers at first, but Arnoul and Vipont gathered
that they had fallen upon the very lord — Fuld his name was —
against whom the peasant had warned them, in the act of at-
tacking another band of travelers. Fortunate for them was it
that they had come upon him and his murderous retainers al-
ready occupied. Otherwise, thought Arnoul, the issue would
have probably been quite other than it was.

The man sat in the road, answering Vipont's questions.

"And this Fuld— where is he?"

" There/' the man made answer, pointing at the same time
to the body in the rusted armor, the haft of the dagger still
protruding from the helmet.

"Hell's curse upon him!'* began Vipont shrilly. And then
lowering his voice almost to a whisper: "Nay, nay, Sigar;
those days are over, please God ! God rest him ! God assoil
him ! Arnoul, methinks thou hast killed the man ! "

" Aye ; he is dead right enough," grunted Roger, awkwardly
undoing his jerkin, so that he might get at his wound.

"Where lies his castle? Is it near by?" pursued the
knight judicially.

" A half league through the woods," the man muttered.

*' These for his soul — though he deserve it not ! " Vipont
threw a handful of coins before the dazed man. "See that
Masses be read for him, fellow. It sickeneth me to see dead
men. Come away, Arnoul ! Come away ! Not but that it was
in fair fight and a brave deed, lad," he added.

But de Valletort was attending to Roger's wound. He
stayed where he was as the knight turned away, and ques-
tioned in his stead.

" Is there shelter to be had nearer than thy master's cas-
tle?" he asked.

Nay; nought closer than Houlgate."

Who are these, then, with whom you fought ? Are they
ring towards the coast?"

VOL. LXXXVIII. — 3

34 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

"Nay, lord; they ride inlands from Caen."
"We cannot leave them here in this plight, master," said
Roger. "Either must we remain here, er they turn back

with us.'1

"We shall see. We shall see. How is that, Roger? Is it

more easy now ? "

"Thanks to you, Master Arnoul. For a day or two I shall
be stiff, doubtless. I am not used to steel thrusts. But 'twill
be no more than a scratch."

As they spoke together to the man, de Valletort attending
to Roger's wound, a sound — half groan, half sigh — came from
the barricade. Then they noticed that one of the rescued had
slipped from his horse and gone to the rider whom Arnoul
had carried senseless from the fight. They went over to the
pair. One was on his knees unlacing the other's headpiece.

"My father! My father! I shall never reach him !" came
from beneath the mail in a childish voice.

" Yes, mistress ; indeed you will. See ! we are rescued and
the villains put to flight," whispered the kneeling figure.

" Mistress ! " echoed Arnoul. " Then it is a woman ! Sir
Sigar, methought these two were children. The one I carried
weighed light as feathers. They are women we have rescued."

And then, as the unlaced hood fell back and the dark hair
escaped on each side of the pale face, he started in amaze-
ment, seizing Vipont's arm.

"What is it?" asked the knight, laying his hand upon his
sword hilt. " Are there more thieves to destroy ? I would I
were but young again, and I should pursue those cutthroat
villains to the death ! "

" Look ! Look ! " gasped Arnoul. " 'Tis your own daughter,
Sibilla, we have saved from capture. That is Sibilla lying on
the roadside !-~Sibilla, I tell you, Sibilla ! "

His voice came high and hysterical. What with the sud-
den action of the fight and this discovery, he was excited and
unnerved. Vipont turned his horse's head, and then slowly
climbed from the saddle. He moved over to the prostrate fig-
ure, not realizing at once what Arnoul had said. But de Val-
letort was before him and, kneeling, passed his mailed arm
under the girl's head.

" Sibilla ! Sibilla ! " he cried in a rapture, as he gazed down
upon her beautiful, pallid face. " It is I, Arnoul, Arnoul de

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 35

Valletort. Do not fear ! We have put your assailants to flight.
Look up ! Look up, my beloved ! 'Tis I, Arnoul, and your
own father, Sir Sigar, who have come to you ! "

He pushed his helmet back from his head as he spoke and
discovered his features.

The girl lifted her eyes to his face with a sigh of content.
She put her arm, covered with its unwieldy chain armor, up
towards him in a gesture of trust and abandonment; and then
quietly fainted. Sir Sigar stood, looking down upon the two
of them, Roger staring, eyes and mouth open, over his shoulder.

"Sibilla!" exclaimed the knight in wonder. "Sibilla! And
here ? Thank God we were in time ! And this — ? This is
Blanche in man's attire. Loosen the strappings of her armor
and give her air ! Thank God ! Thank God ! "

Then kneeling too and uncovering his head he addressed
the squire and the unconscious girl.

" My son de Valletort, worthy to be a knight, worthy of
my daughter Sibilla ! What said the friar ? ' Let him win the
maid/ And, forsooth — it is indeed a providence ! — he has won
her, won her at the sword's point ! A valiant fight ! A noble
prowess ! Daughter, you hearken ? This is my son — my son,
I tell you, de Valletort. He makes suit for your hand, Sibilla.
He loves you ; and, by God's grace, he has rescued you from
these dogs of robbers. I give my consent, my full consent.
What say you? What — ?"

But Arnoul interposed. " Sir, your daughter is in a swoon.
She hears you not. Neither can we stay here all the night.
The darkness grows apace. We must forge ahead and find
some shelter, or else push on to the harbor. Roger, get the
horses and the men together. One poor fellow is dead — or
wounded. If he be dead we must perforce leave him where
he lies; but, wounded, you must make shift to take him on
your mount. My lord, to horse ! I shall carry the maid. To
horse all, and forward ! "

He pressed his lips upon the brow of the unconscious girl
and lifting her in his arms, approached the horse that Roger
led forward by the bridle rein. Quickly he swung himself
into the saddle ; and bent his arm around the motionless form.

Then, with Sir Sigar at his side, and the others following, he
rode forward, in the fast gathering gloom, towards Houlgate.

36 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

CHAPTER XXXVI.

It had all happened in this wise. The Franciscan friars
had brought it all about when they trudged, begging, to Exe-
ter and made their way to the convent. There were many
comings and goings at the Benedictine house of Exeter. The
Lady Abbess was something of a celebrity in the land and a
power, certainly, to be reckoned with in things ecclesiastical.
And so, not only the grave Cistercians who journeyed to and
fro between England and France, but Premonstratensians and
Cordeliers and Blackfriars as well, sometimes found that their
business compelled them to take this same good lady into their
counsels.

So it was that one, a Franciscan friar, Elias by name, who
had, though he did not mention it, been some four months in
voyaging from his convent in France into Devon, bore her
tidings of her brother, Sigar Vipont.

He was a doleful man, this friar Elias, with a woebegone
countenance and a lachrymose voice. His ungloved ringers, as
well as his bare feet, were swollen and blue with cold and ex-
posure, for he had come on foot with his companion, as beg-
ging Minors should, on a quest for his convent and order.

Of the two, he ought assuredly to have been the compan-
ion, for his fellow was plump aud well-favored, with a ruddy
face and a twinkling eye, to whose fingers and toes the cold
weather brought no chilblains, and from whose jovial counte-
nance no amount of hardship or care could smooth out the
perpetual smile.

Still, Brother Elias was the superior, and it was for him to
address the Lady Abbess. He did so without so much as
raising his eyes to her face— Brother Leo the while letting his
gaze range about the apartment and taking good stock of
the sister at the same time. The business that had led this
strangely assorted couple to the Exeter nunnery completed,
Brother Elias hummed and ha'ed.

'There is one other thing I ought, perchance, to tell your
ladyship. I am lately come from Paris and— That is to say,
Brother Leo here and I have crossed the ocean— Good Saints !
how the barque rocked in the crossing. We happened upon a
certain knight— in the convent of St. Jacques, it was— sorely
afflicted, forsooth— the hand of the Lord lies heavy upon him,

I908.J ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 37

for he has slain a priest of God — one Sigar, Lord of More-
leigh. This same lord," the friar continued, not noticing, since
his eyes were fixed upon the oaken planks of the floor, the
Abbess' change of color, "this same knight, his name is
Vipont — is not your name, Lady Abbess, Vipont? — he lay sick
of an incurable disease. He — "

" For heaven's sake, man, speak your mind if you have
anything to say ! " the impatient lady broke in upon him.
"What of my brother? Is he dead, too?"

"Dead? The good saints send not! I did not say that he
was dead, did I?" the Minor whined and drawled. "I said,
forsooth, that I — that my Brother Leo here and I — had seen
the knight in Paris, ill and — "

"And what said he?"

"Said? I did not say that we had spoken with him. We
saw him only, in the convent of St. Jacques."

"What news have you of him, then?" snapped the abbess,
losing patience.

" That he is ill."

" Of what ? A podagra or a melancholy humor ? Is he
choleric or has he been stricken with the leprosy ? Speak,
friar, and tell me what you know ! "

" I know naught, Lady Abbess. I did not say that I knew
aught. But he assuredly looked ill — as one nigh to death's
door. Did he not look ill, my Brother Leo ? "

Thus addressed, the rubicund friar let loose the flood gates
of his pent-up eloquence, and poured out, without once stop-
ping to take breath, a circumstantial account of the appear-
ance of Sir Sigar. As Brother Elias was painfully accurate
and kept to his facts, so Brother Leo, ignoring fact, put his own
interpretation upon what he had seen, and gave the good Lady
Abbess so detailed and harrowing a picture of her brother's
state, that even that self-possessed lady lost countenance.

"So he is indeed nigh to death?" she questioned sadly,
when a pause came in the torrent of words. " Poor Sigar ! "

" Nigh to death ! " exclaimed the friar, wreathed in smiles
and rubbing one plump hand comfortably over the other. " Nigh
to death, of a surety, if he be not already dead. At the least,
from his appearance, he must be stricken with the fevers of
Italy, with phthisic and with rheumatic caught in the moun-
tains, with — " The sentence finished in a catalogue of maladies.

38 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

"Good St. Scholastica ! " The Lady Abbess was much
moved. " What a calamity ! "

The intentions of the abbess were of the best, and she only
told the prioress what she had heard. She did this merely to
ease her own feelings. The prioress gave it, in strict confi-
dence, to the cellarer. The cellarer kept her counsel and said
nothing. But in convents, sometimes, notwithstanding the mani-
fold rules and regulations, of which the practice of silence is
one and not the least, news seems in an inexplicable manner
and with incredible swiftness to get abroad. Before vespers
even the lay sisters had heard that Sir Sigar was in extremis,
as a result of falling over a precipice in the Alps. When com-
pline was over Sibilla had learnt that her father was -lying
seriously ill in Paris. She went straight to her aunt the ab-
bess.

"Well, child," said the good lady, catching sight of the
girl's pallid face, " what is the matter that you seek me after
compline ? This is not the time for breaking the silence of a
religious house with idle chatter.*'

"Dear aunt," Sibilla said piteously, "they tell me that fa-
ther is dying."

"Tut, tut, child; nothing of the kind! Who has been tell-
ing you such nonsense ? "

"Who has told me? I don't know. I don't remember.
Every one seems to know all about it. But it is not nonsense,
Aunt Matilda. I see in your face that it is true. Dear aunt,"
she pleaded, " tell me the truth. What ails my father ? Is he—?
Is he—?"

The brown eyes brimmed over with tears.

"No, he is not"; the Lady Abbess was emphatic. She
drew Sibilla towards her and put her arm about the girl's slight
form. " He suffers from an ague, child, or a chill, or a twinge
of the gout, perhaps. Take my word for it, it can't be any-
thing serious, or I should have been advised of it."

'Still, he is ill, and alone in Paris?"

" Unwell, possibly ; but hardly alone. He will be in some
-house or lodging where he will be well attended to.
The leeches of France are as good and better than those of
England. Do not fear for him, Sibilla. Come, weep not, child !
Tut tut ! a Vipont and tears ! Blessed St. Scholastica, what
a sight ! "

9o8.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 39

The good lady's own eyes looked suspiciously bright as she
spoke, comforting and mothering the weeping girl.

At last Sibilla dried her eyes. " I am going to him," she
said simply.

"Are you out of your mind, girl, to think of such a thing ? "
her aunt asked almost roughly.

" No, aunt, I am not mad, but I go to Paris to my father."

"You shall do nothing of the kind. You are in my care;
and I forbid anything so foolish and so absurd. The idea ! A
slip of a girl like you to talk of crossing into France and mak-
ing your way to Paris alone ! "

"Yet I shall certainly go."

" I forbid you to dream of such madness ! It is prepos-
terous— impossible! Come Sibilla, I am truly sorry for you,
but you must see that you can do nothing. Say your prayers
and be off to bed ! Poor Sigar will come back safe and sound
never you fear. That's a good child, now ! "

The abbess kissed the girl upon her brow, and dismissed her
with cheering words. Then she 'sat back in her chair and
wrinkled her old forehead and thought how much easier it was
to manage a whole abbeyful of sisters than one Vipont, and
that a girl.

Sibilla, meanwhile, went to her room. But she did not obey
her aunt's advice. She, too, sat far into the night thinking.
At last she rose and went into the adjoining room.

" Blanche ! " she whispered, shaking her sleeping maid.
" Wake up, Blanche, and listen to me ! "

" What is the matter, mistress ? " asked the woman sleepily,
rubbing her eyes.

Without the dawn was just beginning to stir in the sky.

"Hush! Do not speak so loud, Blanche ! Someone might
hear! Are you ready to do me a great service? Listen ! My
father is ill in France ; and I am going to him. You will help
me, Blanche, won't you ? "

" Help you, mistress ! of course that will I. But why all
this suddenness and secrecy ? "

" Hush, Blanche ; do not speak so loud ! My aunt prevents
my going ; so I must steal away. I want you to slip out and
make your way over to Moreleigh. See Pigot and tell him my
plan. You will get money from him and two of the castle
men. Also, we shall need four horses — for you will come with

40 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

me. Then go yourself and find one of the page's suits— one
that will fit me— and a jack or a light suit of mail from the
guard-room. If Pigot makes any objections tell him that it is
my will. You must get arms, too, and man's clothing for your-
self. And to-morrow, by nightfall, be you with the two men
at the mouth of the river. We are sure to find a ship sailing
for France. They come and go every day. Pigot had better
come with you— or go to-night to see about the ship—"

"But, mistress," broke in the bewildered maid; "how can
all this be done in the time? And what will Pigot have to
say to it all?"

"Hush, Blanche! Hush! it must be done, as I say. And
Pigot must do as I tell- him. Say nothing about this to any
one — not to a living soul — in the convent ; but as soon as ever
you can, get away and make for Moreleigh. Do everything as
I have told you. Pigot must hand over to you enough money
for any emergency. Show him this ring if he questions or re-
fuses; and tell him that it is my bidding. And, Blanche — ?"

"Yes, mistress?"

"You are a faithful creature. You love me, Blanche?"

"And have I not loved you ever since I held you in my
arms as a baby ? "

"And you would do much for me?"

" All I might do, dear mistress. There is nothing I would
not do for you."

" Then see you fail me not to-morrow at dark. Make all
the preparations for the journey. See that Pigot gives you
two strong men and used to arms — both of them mounted on
good horses and with provision. They will both ride armed.
Find yourself a light hauberk, too; and we had both better
have large hoods to them to hide our hair. But fail me not,
Blanche ! As you love me — and I know you do love me — do
not fail me."

" I shall not fail you, Mistress Sibilla. Upon my life, all
shall be done as you have said. And if that cross-grained
Pigot refuses— Ah ! So much the worse for Pigot ! " she
concluded.

The impulsive girl threw her arms about the serving woman
and hugged her. She knew that her plan would not miscarry.
With what results it was carried out the reader is already ac-
quainted.

1908,] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 41

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Moreleigh Church was nearly built. The old knight saw
the walls rising with a great satisfaction and content, knowing
that his penance was all but accomplished. With his own
hands he labored at the growing pile of masonry, carrying the
rough blocks of stone and setting them in their places, bearing
the mortar to the masons on the scaffolding, trying, even, with
his unskilled hands to chisel the squared stones that were to
serve as corner-pieces for the angles of the building.

From the late springtime, when he had come back to Devon,
and on through the summer months until the russet of early
autumn took the place of the soft greens and the flowers began
to fall from the yellow gorse, he had hardly missed a day at
Moreleigh Church. He had grown to love it as a part of him-
self. It was no longer as a penance that he built. Rather was
it in fulfilment of a vow, but a vow, none the less, that spelt
his release.

And so, as the days shortened and the walls ever grew
higher from the greensward, his tall, bent form could be seen
going in and out among the workmen, to whom his kindly words
and sad, sweet smile had endeared him no less than his pa-
thetic story. He was no more the fiery Sir Sigar of More-
leigh Castle, with a harsh word or a blow for all who crossed
him, but a patient, broken old man, with bowed head and
gentle speech and kindly smile, ready to undertake the rough-
est and the meanest work beside his own servants.

And so Moreleigh Church was built — a body waiting for its
soul, for as yet it had not been consecrated nor had Mass
been offered within its walls. It was a little church. A man
could measure it from end to end in twenty paces. But surely
never church was built with so great love and care. The short,
square tower rising sheer and solid amid the surrounding trees
towards the blue sky, the tiny sanctuary carrying on the lines
of the narrow nave, the south aisle — all were planned and exe-
cuted with a minute detail of proportion and decoration that
made the church, small as it was, a perfect example of art and
skill. The south wall was pierced by an archway giving ac-
cess to a chantry chapel. "That," said Vipont to himself, "I
shall provide for my own soul. When I am gone and for-
gotten a priest shall read the holy Mass there for me too.1'
And he smiled his sad smile as he thought of his prudence.

42 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

Truly a wondrous change was wrought in the heart of the
Lord of Moreleigh.

The lovers, too, Arnoul and Sibilla, were frequent pilgrims
to the spot. He had come back with his golden spurs, for
Vipont had insisted upon going straightway to the royal court
at St. Alban's upon their landing in England and craving the
boon of knighthood for his squire. He himself had stood
sponsor for the lad with no less a person than Baldwin de
Redvers, the Earl of Devon. Together they had kept vigil in
the great abbey church through the long silence of the night,
broken only by the chanting of matins in the far-off choir.
Sir Sigar had insisted on keeping the fast with Arnoul, and,
shriven and houselled also, had led him to the king. The
abbot of St. Alban's had blessed the sword that hung about
the lad's neck. And King Henry, always ready to honor
bravery, had repeated the formula of knighthood and the ad-
monition with a merry smile lurking in his eyes.

" To what end do you desire to enter into this order ? If
it is that you may be rich, repose yourself, and be honored
without doing honor to knighthood, then you are unworthy of
it, and would be to the knighthood you should receive what
the simoniacal priest is to the sacerdotal office. But we know,1'
he added, glancing towards Sibilla, "what your purpose is, and
we have heard of your valor and chivalry. Clothe him, sirs
and ladies, for the accolade ! "

The knights and the ladies brought his knightly dress and
put it on him in place of the white tunic, the red robe, and
the black doublet that he wore. The golden spurs were tied
on at his heels with scarlet leather thongs. The chausses were
strapped in place at waist and knee. The shining hauberk was
slipped over his head and girt about his middle, and the brace-
lets were fastened at his wrist to hold the gauntlets in place.
Then, last of all, the sword was girded on, and he knelt be-
fore the king.

" In the name of God," spoke the monarch, rising to his
feet and touching him lightly with his drawn sword. "In the
name of God, St. Michael, and St. George, I make thee knight.
Be thou brave and loyal." Then the king struck him gently
with the hand upon the cheek and raised him from his knees.

Thus was Arnoul the Englishman, sometime clerk of Paris,
dubbed a knight by Henry III. of England at the Benedictine
House of St. Alban's.

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 43

But there was more than this. The king had other ways
of honoring bravery than conferring knighthood ; and Vipont
and Redvers had doubtless arranged it beforehand. Before he
left St. Alban's, de Valletort had the title deeds of the king's
grant of the manor of Harberton in his possession. He was a
lord as well as a knight.

So Sir Arnoul and the Lady Sibilla were frequent visitors
at Moreleigh Church. They were hardly less interested in the
building than Vipont himself ; and many were the gray stones
that Arnoul set in place in the walls and tower, Sibilla watch-
ing him with her great, dark eyes.

But what he loved the best was to sit beneath the trees on
the rising ground behind the church and watch, through the
leafy screen, the steadily rising courses and the busy workmen
at their toil, with the bowed figure of Sir Sigar moving to and
fro among them. There they would sit like happy children,
playing with the woodland flowers, whispering words of love
into each other's ears, and looking into each other's eyes. Or
they would wander through the woods, by the banks of the
stream, listening to the singing of the birds, drinking in the soft
scents of summer, telling each other the wonder of their love.

So went their wooing ; for Vipont had given his consent,
and Arnoul was a knight. And the violets and yellow prim-
roses faded and gave place to wild hyacinth and daisies in the
woods and hedgerows, while they spoke ever the self-same
words. Sir Arnoul would ride from Buckfast, straight and
strong on his great bay horse and doff his plumed cap as he
threw a kiss to her before dismounting. Or he would come
up on foot from Avon Mouth, striding along, clean-limbed and
vigorous, in a simple dress of homespun from Cistercian looms.
But his greeting was ever the same: " Hey, sweetheart! and
how fares the building?" as he took her in his arms. And
she would make answer, her heart beating against his bosom,
her blushing face turned up towards his : " It grows apace, my
beloved. It will soon be done."

For the consecration of Moreleigh Church was the term
towards which all things seemed to move. Vipont yearned for
the fulfilment of his penance and his freedom. Arnoul 'and
Sibilla were to be united once the church was built and blessed.

And so at last, when the cornflowers were paling before
the upstart Michaelmas daisies, one early morning Arnoul rode
to Moreleigh. He wore a light chain mail of Saracen make

44 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

under his surcoat of rich sendal. The long golden spurs of his
knighthood shone at his heels. His cheeks were flushed under
their healthy tan, and his eyes sparkled as he thought of the
purpose of his riding. A squire followed him bearing his shield
— vert, with three mullets, gules, upon a bend, argent.

By all the roads, from all the villages, the peasants flocked
to Moreleigh. The Bishop of Exeter, accompanied by his es-
cort of dignitaries, was already there in the castle with the
Abbot of Buckfast and his monks. His Lordship of Exeter
was fasting since the day before, for he was going to perform
the ceremony of the consecration of a church.

Vipont was talking earnestly with the abbot as Arnoul
rode into the courtyard and dismounted. He flung his bridle
rein to a page standing by and, with greetings right and left
to all, hurried across to the hall. He had caught a glimpse of
Sibilla standing at the head of the steps — waiting for him where
she had so often waited for her father in the old days.

"Beloved!" he cried. "The day has dawned at last!
The church is finished. The penance is done. And you are
mine, Sibilla, mine until death and beyond it ! In a few short
hours the bishop will have consecrated Moreleigh Church to
God, and you will be my wife, sweetheart."

" My beloved! " the girl murmured, yielding to his embrace.

"Think how the knots have been cut away, sweetheart.
Think how the tangled skein has been straightened," he said,
smoothing her hair back from her brow and kissing her upon
the lips. " The poor clerk of Paris mating with a Vipont ! It
is passing strange ! "

" Hush, Arnoul ! Where is there in all the world a knight
such as thou ? Oh, beloved, my beloved ! 'Tis I who should
thank God and wonder! When I think of poor Sir Guy — "

The knight raised her downcast face to his and kissed her
again upon the brow. " My brother is with God," he said sim-
ply. "Brother Thomas of Aquin comforted me with that word.
He watches us in spirit, dear heart, from beside the throne."
And Brother Thomas—" faltered Sibilla.

' Yes, heart of my heart, Brother Thomas told me I should
win you. But for him— but for your sweet image in my heart
-I should- See, Sibilla, all these years have I worn thy
relic in my bosom. Do you remember the day you placed it
there, sweetheart ? " He drew out the golden case with its faded
ribbon from beneath his mail and raised it to his lips reverently.

i9o8.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 45

" My beloved ! " the girl murmured again, nestling yet
closer to, his side.

" Come, sweetheart, they are moving in the courtyard. The
bishop is making for the church. We must go now with the
rest. Bravely, my own beloved, bravely ! In one short hour
we shall come back hither man and wife."

As Sir Arnoul and Sibilla appeared together at the head of
the low steps leading to the courtyard, a cheer went up from
the crowd of retainers aud guests. They had been bidden for
the consecration, but they divined that it was not for that
alone, and that the day's ceremony was to end with the wed-
ding of de Valletort and the heiress of Sir Sigar. Every head
was turned towards where they stood side by side, at the en-
trance to the hall. Old Bishop Blondy, still rubicund and port-
ly, though his age was beginning to tell hardly upon him,
smiled his approval of the pair and waved his bejewelled hand
in cordial blessings from the castle gate. The abbot raised his
eyes and smiled too, while Vipont straightened himself and,
walking over towards them, joined their two hands and held
them for an instant in his own. It was a graceful act, and
shouts of approval burst from the assembly.

There they stood, the three of them, framed in the gray
stone doorway of the great hall. The old lord, smiling his
pathetic, yet supremely happy smile, as he looked proudly from
the one to the other, the young knight, the sunlight playing
on the rich colors of his silken surcoat and glinting from the
close- woven links of his mail. Bareheaded he stood, the short
locks of his recent knighthood crisping on his brow, his mien
noble, his visage determined, yet lit with the light of a great love.
He had no eyes save for Sibilla, as he clasped her little hand
in his great brown one, looking down upon her as though to
proclaim his worship to the whole wide world. And she, clad
in some clinging, flowing stuff of simple white, shaped to the
contour of her form by every breath of the breeze, the hood
thrown back and her wondrous hair held by a plain golden
fillet such as — he remembered it — she had first worn at Buck-
fast for Abbot Benet's feast, the color coming and going in her
face and bosom, tears of sheer happiness and love trembling
upon the long lashes that veiled her downcast eyes, she drew
closer, to him and her little hand trembled in his as she heard
the shouts of joy and welcome uprising from the packed court-
yard of the castle.

46 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

" Long live Sir Arnoul de Valletort and the Lady Sibilla ! "
A stentorian voice made itself heard above the rest; .and Ar-
noul, turning for an instant, caught sight tof Roger hurling his
headgear high above the throng.

As the crowd took up the acclamation, good Bishop Blondy
waved his plump hands above his head and turned to pass
through the gate towards the church.

But at the moment there was a stir under the archway and
confusion. The bishop was shot violently to one side, as a
white mule trotted through, followed in a moment by four
others ambling more decorously. On the foremost beast sat —
or rather, hung — the Abbess Matilda, puffing and panting, her
veil awry, her rosy cheeks redder than ever, her eyes rolling
wildly and closing alternately. When she managed to get
breath and saw the devastation her beast had wrought, she cried
aloud, speaking with great rapidity and gesticulating violently:
" Don't stand staring there, you dolts! Blessed saints! have
you never seen a nun before, or a mule, that you look as
though I were a ghost ? Hold this beast, some one, and get
me down. Oh, St. Scholastica ! the brute is possessed by seven
devils!"

"My Lady Abbess!" the bishop exclaimed, regaining his
countenance with his equilibrium as the nun slid to the ground.
"My Lady Abbess! This is hardly—"

" Oh, my Lord Bishop ! My lord ! Think you that I — ?
But you ! I am covered with confusion ! You are not injured,
my Lord Bishop ? Blessed saints ! What a calamity ! Where
is Sir Sigar? Where is Sibilla? My lord, it was in this
wise. Purposing to come to the consecration, I bade them sad-
dle the mule — the sedatest of mules, my lord, a very paragon
of mules! But to-day it is of a surety possessed by the evil
one. Scarce could I urge it from our cell hither. It crawled
at a snail's pace. When I beat it with my wand it turned its
head to look at me, wagging its ears. Methought the sacring
would have been done ere I reached Moreleigh."

" Natheless, you are here, my Lady Abbess," the bishop
remarked, smiling.

" Here ! " she panted. " I had near been in purgatory by
now ! At the top of the hill I heard shouting. Straightway
the devil entered into the mule. I could not hold him. My
arms cracked with the strain. And ere I could breathe a prayer
to my patron, St. Scholastica, I had jeopardized the life of your

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 47

lordship as well as my own. I crave your forgiveness, my
good lord; but it was the mule's fault."

"There is naught to forgive, my Lady Abbess. But see to
it that you ride not a mule possessed, or we shall soon be hav-
ing an election at the Abbey of Exeter. But come ! We
must to the consecration! I had like to faint with hunger."

The bishop gave his blessing to the abbess and her nuns
and passed on, followed by the crowd, to the church ; and the
good lady, catching sight of the group standing upon the steps
of the hall, crossed the courtyard and joined them. Last of
all, they passed out of the now deserted castle.

And so the church was consecrated. A tent had been pitched
for the holy relics near by the western door, and in this tent
vigil had been kept all the previous night, for the consecration
of a church is the burial of a martyr, and on the bier within,
surrounded by burning tapers, lay the tiny splinters of bone
from a martyr's tomb.

The bishop entered the building. Fixed at intervals upon
the walls were twelve crosses before which were stuck twelve
unlighted tapers. He gave orders that these should be lighted
and then, accompanied by his clergy, retired to the tent where
the first part of the service was to take place. After the
penitential psalms had been recited, the bishop meanwhile
vesting in his pontificals, the procession returned to the
church. All round it they circled thrice, sprinkling the walls
with holy water, before they entered. Then, as the deacon
who had been left alone in the empty church opened the door
to them, the Pax ceterna was sung and bishop and clergy
went in. The crowd gathered in a group about the door,
waiting until the alphabets, Greek and Latin, had been traced
upon the ashes with which the floor was strewn in the form of
a cross, from corner to corner. The salt and the water, the
ashes and the wine were exorcised and blessed. The altar, the
walls, the pavement, were aspersed ; and all was made ready
for the entombment of the relics. Even the mortar that was
to seal up the cavity in the altar that represents the tomb was
mixed by the bishop. And then, once more, the church was
left empty, as they went to bear the relics to their final rest-
ing place. The procession came back, with lighted tapers and
incense, and wound round the church. The voices of the
priests repeated again and again the words Kyrie eleison!
Kyrie eleison ! as the relics, almost hidden in a cloud of in-

48 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

cense, were borne, shoulder high, immediately before the
bishop. When they had once more reached the main door his
lordship took his seat upon a faldstool and addressed the Lord
of Moreleigh, founder of the church, according to the ap-
pointed custom.

"'You are aware, dearly beloved brother, that the Sacred
Canons do not allow the consecration of churches that are
destitute of endowment and ministers. We would therefore
know, dearest brother, the number of priests and clerks, and
the appointments you purpose allowing them, and what en-
dowment you intend to settle on the church.'"

Sir Sigar hung back. Surely, in this case, when the work
was a penance imposed by the Lord Pope, the usual formula
of address was unnecessary. But the bishop continued, re-
counting the priviliges and claims of founders in a monotonous
tone. The day was wearing. It was already becoming hot.
The bishop wore full pontificals and a heavy miter. Besides,
he was fasting, so there was some excuse for his reading with-
out over-much eloquence this purely legal part of the cere-
mony. A notary stood ready, waiting with the deed of gift.
Vipont hung back; but Arnoul, who stood near him, whis-
pered in his ear : " It is only a formality, my lord. You
must acquaint the bishop with the nature of the provision you
have made."

The old knight cleared his throat nervously. " My lord
bishop," he said, " I have done that which our lord the Pope
has commanded me. I do hereby give the church that I
have built to Holy Church, craving the prayers of the faithful
that it may indeed be an acceptable penance in the sight of
God for my great wrongdoing. I have provided for the main-
tenance of three priests — one to read Mass, day by day, for
the eternal repose of the soul of Sir Guy de Valletort; an-
other to minister to the good people living hereabout; the
third, my lord, I purposed — I desire that he should read the
Holy Mass for me. Your lordship has said that the founders
of churches have the first place of honor in the processions on
the anniversary of the dedication. My lord, it is an honor
that I shall never claim. This church is a penance for a sin.
I give it, my lord, and I give it freely. But I cannot forget
the occasion of its building, and I could not— I— You have
said also, my lord, that if a founder of a church should come
to want, the Church gives proof of her grateful remembrance

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 49

of the founder's liberality. So be it. But, my lord, it is a
penance and not a liberality. Besides, there is little I shall
want. I am an old man, my lord. The days of my pilgrim-
age are nearly done. I crave of the Church — of all good,
faithful people — the boon of their prayers." The knight's
voice faltered. He drew humbly to one side, scarce hearing
the bishop's gruff: "Sir Sigar! Sir Sigar! You have done
well. I' faith, more than our lord the Pope has commanded
you. And as to prayers, methinks we could now ask you to
pray for us ! "

The words are set down in no known variation of the rite
for the consecration of a church, but the good bishop, moved
beyond his wont, used them none the less. The service of the
hallowing continued. The sacred relics were borne to their
temporary resting place within the building, while the altar
tomb was prepared for them by the unction with the chrism.
Then they were reverently laid within it, and solemnly in-
censed by the bishop. The tomb was closed and sealed. The
unctions of the altar, with the oil of the catechumens and the
oil of chrism, of the walls, where the twelve crosses marked
the places of anointing, with the chrism alone, were completed;
and the five litttle fires of wax and incense were lighted at
the four corners and in the middle of the altar. Lastly came
the cleansing of the holy table and its adorning with fair linen
for the celebration of the sacred mysteries. The church was
consecrated. Vipont's penance was accomplished.

And then the Mass began, old Bishop Blondy himself sing-
ing it, with the monks from Buckfast for a choir.

And when the Mass was over Sir Arnoul and the Lady
Sibilla were married. They knelt before the newly hallowed
altar while the good old bishop blessed the ring and pro-
nounced them man and wife. The monks craned their necks
the better to see Sir Arnoul ; and Abbot Benet, leaning back
in his stall, shut his eyes and let his mind run back to the
day when the handsome, stalwart knight had first come, a little
lad, holding his brother's hand, to the Abbey of Buckfast.

So it was done. A great shout rent the air when Sir Ar-
noul and his bride came forth once more into the sunlight.
Roger was beside himself with joy as he helped the peas-
ants to strew the path to the castle with autumn leaves and
flowers. So bereft was he of his senses that when he found

VOL. LXXXVIII.— 4

50 ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN [Oct.,

himself beside Blanche he even whispered to her that an-
other wedding might be arranged in which he and she should
play the leading part. He got a box on the ear for his pains,
but her blush and giggle paid him well for his venture.

At the castle there was feasting to follow. Sir Sigar sat in
the great hall at the head of the board with Sibilla and Ar-
noul beside him. He was at peace with all the world and
smiled gently to himself as the guests enjoyed the good cheer
he had provided.

And in the courtyard below the retainers and peasants
feasted and made merry in honor of the bride and groom, un-
til once more Sir Arnoul stood before them upon the steps
with Sibilla hanging upon his arm, Vipont and his guests
pressing forward behind them. The slant sun wrapped them
both in its glory, flashing back from the golden reliquary up-
on his breast and the fillet in her hair. Together they stood
before the retainers of the house and the peasants from its
broad lands, acknowledging their joyous greetings, smiling back
upon the throng of happy, smiling faces.

Then Sir Arnoul took the Lady Sibilla's both hands in his
and drawing her towards him, kissed her sweet face before
them all.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

The bells of the Abbey of St. Mary at Buckfast were ring-
ing for Solemn Mass. On the high altar of our Lady the tall
tapers were lighted. The monks, choir brethren and lay, were
slowly filling up the choir, four ranks of them, two on each
side, of white-cowled figures and brown-cloaked forms, kneel-
ing motionless in the stalls. The abbot was in his place facing
the altar, and away from him, on either hand and then at
right angles in lines towards the altar, knelt the brethren. At
the far end the ragged thatch of Brother Peter struggled out
from under the hood of his habit. His little, wizened face was
bent down. His eyes were closed, and his weather-beaten,
knotted hands folded in prayer. He had come from the moors
to the abbey to prepare himself for the last great day of shep-
herding. On the other side of the choir, opposite him, knelt a
solitary form, clothed in a plain tunic of white wool, girt with
a leathern girdle. It was time for the Mass to begin.

In the body of the church few people were gathered — a

1908.] ARNOUL THE ENGLISHMAN 51

knight and his lady, a little knot of the dependants of the
abbey, a handful of neighboring peasants. They were all watch-
ing, close as might be to the choir, for the sacred ministrants
to approach the altar.

But before they came from the sacristy, and the brethren
set to singing the introit of the Mass, the abbot rose in his
stall and moved to the middle of the choir. The white-robed
figure rose, too, and approached him. What words were spoken
the watchers could not hear, but they saw the postulant fall
upon his knees and they caught the rapt look of utter peace
that shone in his face, as with hands meekly folded, and eyes
uplifted, he received the black scapulary at the hands of the
Lord Abbot. It was the sign of his reception into the Cis-
tercian family.

With tears streaming from his eyes he took his place,
among the youngest of the novices, and the abbot went back
to his stall.

Sir Sigar Vipont, Lord of Moreleigh, was a Cistercian novice
of the house of St. Mary of Buckfast.

The Mass began. The monks chanted the strange old melo-
dies of Gloria and Credo. The incense clouds rose aloft before
the altar, and drifted back into the nave. Sibilla's eyes were
brimming as she knelt beside Arnoul ; and he, as he let his
glance stray from the altar and the new novice to the dear
one at his side, felt a tear start unbidden to his own.

" My own beloved," he whispered to her as, Mass finished,
the abbot came out into the nave, leading the novice towards
them to take his farewell. " Sweetheart, Brother Thomas bade
me know how wonderful are the ways of God. Meseems 'tis
He who has had us all within His keeping. And He has
given thee to me, even as Brother Thomas said."

" Aye, dearest " ; and Sibilla lifted her dewy eyes to his.
" God has given thee to me and me to thee."

" And to St. Mary of Buckfast has He given a most worthy
son " ; added the abbot, overhearing her words. " All are
blessed by Him; and may His blessings rest upon us all!"

" All but Sir Guy ! " the novice murmured sadly.

" To His priest, Sir Guy, has He given the paradise of His
eternal love," said the abbot.

(THE END.)

SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BACON.

BY MICHAEL HOGAN, SJ.

fE have already examined some of Lord Bacon's
\ assertions about the science of psychology, and
! have found them to be equivalently an unquali-
fied denial of the existence, and even of the
possibility, of such a science.* There can be
no doubt about his meaning when he tells us that " no knowl-
edge of the nature of the rational soul can be had from phil-
osophy," and that all speculations regarding its origin, or its
final destiny, are " subject to deceit and delusion." We have
but to put faith in these assertions of the Lord Chancellor
(and if we accept them at all it must be on faith, for he gives
no reason for them), and we are already in hopeless scepticism
in all that pertains to the world of the soul.

But he has told us, moreover, that it is not alone in en-
deavoring to give itself a satisfactory account of its own na-
ture, its origin, and its ultimate destiny, that the human soul
is helpless. He has assured us that, apart from Revelation, it
cannot know anything of the origin of the created universe,
or of Him Who called it out of nothing — another assertion as
untrue as it is unwarranted, and leading once more into the
maze of scepticism with regard to the existence of God, His
attributes, and the Providence which He exercises over the
works of His hands. Finally, he has told us that " the doc-
trine of religion, as well moral as mystical, is not to be attained
except by inspiration and revelation from God." ^And thus he
would again bring us out into the dark night of scepticism about
man's duties to his Maker, to his fellow-man, and to himself.
There is now left for man's cognitive faculties, very little
material to work upon, save physical nature — the fair child of
the Lord Chancellor's adoption. And this, at least, we might
expect him to pronounce the one grand object of the mind's
unaided, infallible, and irresistible conquest. Not so, however.
Such a background would not suffer his " method " to stand
out in bold relief, nor show how much it was needed, and

* Cf. The Irish Ecclesiastical Record, for February, 1908 : ' ' The Psychology of Lord
Bacon."

1908.] SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BACON 53

how well adapted to the emergency. He must represent the
human intellect as drowning in the ocean of universal dark-
ness, with that " method " as the last plank after shipwreck.

And first he tells of the shipwreck. " The doctrines," he
says, " of the human understanding and of the human will are
like twins; for the purity of illumination and the freedom of
will began and fell together" (Adv. of Learning, Book V.
Chapter I.) It is plain that Bac»n is here giving us a part of
the doctrine of the Reformers concerning the condition of fal-
len man. " Profundissima corruptio," says Luther, " totius
naturae et omnium, imprimis vero superiorum animae faculta-
tum." And Quesnel : " Voluntas quam gratia non praevenit
nihil habet luminis nisi ad aberrandum, virium, nisi ad se vul-
nerandum." That the Lord Chancellor, like the Reformers,
attributed this imagined wreck of man's -faculties to the fall
from original justice, is placed beyond all doubt when he as-
sures us that the purity of illumination and the freedom of
will " began and fell together.*1 Moreover we find him a mo-
ment later bent on "restoring the senses to their former rank."

He next proceeds to recount the sad consequences of that
shipwreck of man's faculties of cognition, even in their rela-
tions to physical nature. On the very first page of the Novum
Organum — the work in which his so-called method is ex-
pounded— he says : " The subtlety of nature is beyond that of
sense or of the understanding, so that the specious meditations,
speculations, and theories of mankind, are but a kind of insanity,
only there is no one to observe them* This assertion differs in
nothing from the fundamental tenet of the philosophy of
Pyrrho, the most thorough-going sceptic the world has ever
seen. " Things are inaccessible and incomprehensible to our
knowledge," says Pyrrho, " and it is our duty to abstain from
all judgment regarding them." Again Lord Bacon says: "The
testimony and information of the senses bears always a relation
to the man and not to the universe, and it is altogether a great
mistake to assert that our senses are the measure of things.
We attribute but little, then, to their immediate perceptions"
Compare this passage with the following from Sextus Empiri-
cus, one of the later sceptics: "There is a relativity in all
our notions, since the object appears different according to the
consitution of the individual perceiving it, and according to its
relations to other objects."

* The italics occurring in the citations from Lord Bacon's works, are the present writer's.

54 SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON [Oct.,

These and many other similar expressions of the Lord
Chancellor are not very hopeful beginnings, nor likely to end
in a reformed philosophy in the best sense. And yet he pro-
poses, in the face of these difficulties and many others with
which we shall afterwards meet, to put the old philosophy on
the anvil and hammer it into a system that will insure cer-
tainty in everything pertaining to external nature. " Our
method of discovering the sciences," he says, "achieves every-
thing by the most certain rules and demonstrations."

But, as we have already said, the difficulties are all of his
own making. After the manner of a juggler, he weaves about
him the web of scepticism, until he is completely enveloped in
its folds, and then by a pretended application of his "method,"
appears to shake it off in an instant as if by magic. " Our
method," he says, " and that of the sceptics agree in some
respects at first setting out, but differ most widely and are com-
pletely opposed to each other in their conclusions. For they
roundly assert that nothing can be known ; we, that but a
small part of nature can be known by the present method.
Their next step however is to destroy the authority of the
senses and understanding, while we invent and supply them
with assistance" (Novum Organum Book I. Aph. 37). In say-
ing that his method and that of the sceptics "agree at first
setting out," he speaks the truth. In saying that they "differ
most widely and are completely opposed to each other in their
conclusions," he also says what is true. But there is some
truth still left about which he says nothing. The "conclu-
sions" of the sceptics — if, indeed, they can be said to draw
conclusions — are in harmony with their premises; his conclu-
sions are not. The sceptics are consistent, at least to the ex-
tent of remaining sceptics; Bacon starts out from scepticism,
and at the end of his traveling, finds himself in dogmatism.
But he does not give and cannot give any reasonable account
of the journey. It is certain that he did not travel over the
road of logic. Between scepticism and dogmatism there lies an
unfathomable chasm, and he does not tell us how he bridged
it over. He simply says that he began on one side of it and
made his ground good to the other side. Dr. Jekyll tells you
that he is now Mr. Hyde. But he has already undergone
before your very eyes, the violent convulsions necessary to
effect the transformation. Bacon says: "I was a sceptic, and
by a method all my own I passed over to dogmatism." But

i9o8.] SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BACON 55

the method all his own was in operation behind the scene.
None of his hearers saw or understood how the transition was
effected. They were told simply that it was an accomplished
fact and that ended it. No one, however, is bound to make an
act of faith in the story. That system of philosophy which
starts out and journeys part of the way in company with
scepticism, and then suddenly takes leave of every form of
doubting, is a real curiosity, at least from a logical standpoint.
The experiences of Descartes must be a warning for all time
to those who would dally with scepticism, believing that they
may part company with it whenever they choose. With rare
gifts of genius and a sincere disposition in his search after the
truth, he was yet unable to disengage himself from the iron
grasp of his "Methodic Doubt," as long as he was encumbered
by the laws of inference. If he wished to be logical, he had
either to dismiss his doubt at the outset, or stand still for the
remainder of his days. To go forward was impossible with
that " Doubt " blocking the way.

But the Novum Organum abounds in absolutely sceptical
assertions about our unaided cognitions, though, in almost
every instance, the author of these assertions is careful to ap-
pend an assurance that all reasonable grounds for doubting are
removed, when once his method has come to the assistance of
the faculty concerned. In the preface we find the following :
" Logicians rest contented with the mere information of the
senses if well directed. We, on the contrary, have many ways
of sifting the information of the senses, for the senses assuredly
deceive" However harmless this statement may appear at first
sight, in ultimate analysis it is unadulterated scepticism. For
if the information of the senses be not reliable, then man has
no reliable knowledge, for he has no knowledge save that
which he receives in some way or other through his senses.
" Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensu." This
is sufficiently proved by the significant fact that persons blind
from their birth have no idea of color except that which they
get from one who has had the power of seeing ; those born
deaf have no idea of sound except such as they get from one
who has had the power of hearing, and so of the ideas corres-
ponding to each of the other senses. If, then, we have no
knowledge that is not derived from the senses, and if at the
same time our senses " assuredly deceive," our position is plain
enough. If the fountain itself be poisoned, the stream is not

56 SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON [Oct.,

likely to be very wholesome at any point of its course. A
flaw in the first link diminishes, if it does not entirely destroy,
the straining capacity of the whole chain.

Here, however, as in many another storm raised by Lord
Bacon and those of his school, ancient philosophy comes to
our rescue. That philosophy denies that "subtlety of nature
is beyond that of sense or of the understanding'*; that "the
testimony and information of the senses bears always a rela-
tion to the man and not to the universe." It denies that
man's natural knowledge of the moral law is merely "sufficient
to check vice," but not sufficient "to inform duty"; or that
such knowledge is had through an "inward instinct," a faculty
distinct from reason. It denies that our senses deceive, that
their information has any need of being sifted, or that such a
sifting process is even possible. That philosophy starts with
the supposition which neither requires nor admits of proof —
for it is sufficiently recommended by common sense — namely,
that many truths can be known with certainty by unaided
reason, and this supposition implies the veracity of our senses,
just as the bringing about of any other result implies the
placing of all the indispensable conditions. The boy of twelve,
for instance, has very little doubt that the father who is whip-
ping him, and the instrument of torture with which the whip-
ping is administered, are stern realities. That there are such
people as Russians and such people as Japanese, and that they
met not long since in a place called Manchuria, seems to have
some truth in it. It is a little more than highly probable that
there was a presidential campaign in the United States in the
fall of nineteen hundred and four, and that, as a result, Theo-
dore Roosevelt and not Judge Parker, is the present incum-
bent of the White House. The man who wagers that San
Francisco was on fire some time ago cannot be said to be
taking a very great risk.

And so there are thousands of other truths connected with
the affairs of everyday life, of which we are certain beyond
the shadow of a doubt. Now such certainty would be impos-
sible if the testimony of our senses were open to deception.
If while listening to an account of the fall of Port Arthur, re-
lated by an eye-witness, my ears failed to give me a correct
report of his words, or if when I read the account of it in the
newspaper my eyes did not receive a true impression of the
printed record, how could I have become aware at all of the

1908.] SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BACON 5 7

fact that was narrated, much less be certain of it ? And if it
be true, as Bacon claims, that " the testimony and information
of the senses bears always a relation to the man and not to
the universe," how comes it to pass that all who read tke
same paper, and all who listened to the same account, went
away with exactly the same conviction ; namely, that Port
Arthur had capitulated ? Why do the senses of all deceive
them in just the same way, and why do the different senses of
the same individual deceive him in exactly the same way ?
Why or how is it that what he hears does but confirm the
deception of what he has seen ? Besides, to doubt about the
veracity of your senses would be to render the first step
towards reasoning impossible. If you doubt about your height
you may measure yourself with a rule, and if you doubt about
the correctness of the rule, you may have recourse to the gov-
ernment standard. But if you doubt about the correctness of
the government standard, you had better stop the investiga-
tion then and there. There is no measure in existence that
can give you a reliable account of yourself in feet and inches.
Ancient philosophy, then, does well to begin by supposing
that some truths may be known with certainty. The fact suf-
ficiently establishes the possibility. It does well, too, when it
supposes that our senses do not deceive us. It is a necessary
condition of our certainty, and our certainty proves that the
condition has been realized. To Lord Bacon is due the credit
of reviving the philosophic quackery, which, by doubting the
testimony of the senses and the judgments following immedi-
ately upon them, would make of our simplest and most rudi-
mentary notions, monstrosities more at variance with reason
and common sense than the story of Aladdin's wonderful lamp
or the legend of the Golden Fleece. As a result of such doubt-
ing we have Fichte rejecting everything but the ego, which for
the sake of becoming conscious of itself, by its own uncon-
scious activity posits the non-ego ; we have Schelling deriving
the ege and the non-ego from a superior principle, which is not
the one and not the other, but yet a fusion of both, and
which he calls " the absolute " ; and we have Hegel making
thought the essence of all things, and arriving at external na-
ture by a simple process which he calls " the heterization of
the idea."

Nor is it the senses alone that Bacon would inoculate with
the infection of error. The human intellect too must go.

I
58 SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON [Oct.,

"There are innate prejudices," he says, "inherent to the very
nature of the understanding which appears to be much more
prone to error than the senses." Senses that assuredly deceive,
and an understanding still more deceptive, and that by its very
nature ! Behold the sad plight to which the " Father of Phy-
sical Science" has reduced the cognitive faculties of him who
was made to the image of his Creator, and who retains the
resemblance even in the fallen state ! But listen, meanwhile,
to some of the reforms he proposes to work in senses that are
deceptive and an intellect that is, by its inherent nature, even
more deceptive. "Our method," he says, "consists in determin-
ing the degrees of certainty, whilst we, as it were, restore the
senses to their former rank, and open and establish a new and
certain course for the mind." One is curious to know what
the process might have been by which he was to "restore the
senses to their former rank." A pair of spectacles is the
nearest approach that has yet been made to such restoration.
And if the understanding has, "inherent in its very nature,"
a proneness to error, how is he or any one else to "open and
establish a new and certain course " for it, unless by going to
the root of the evil and changing that nature. Nothing short
of this will rid it of its inherent proneness to error. Was
Lord Bacon aware of the task he was undertaking when he
set about restoring the senses to their former rank and open-
ing " a new and certain course " for a faculty prone to error
by its nature ? One can hardly think so. The philosopher of
poetry — who, strangely enough, has come to be regarded by
many as no other than Lord Bacon himself — tells us that it
were "wasteful and ridiculous excess"

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,

To throw a perfume on the violet,

To smooth the ice, or add another hue

Unto the rainbow, or with taper light,

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish.

And yet the gold, the lily, the violet, the ice, the rainbow,
and even the orb of day itself, shall all return to the nothing-
ness out of which their Creator called them. Perfect with a
perfection that mocks at human skill, they are wanting in the
image and likeness of Him Who made them, and therefore in
that enduring destiny which is an attribute of the human soul.
That soul— the nobler and more perfect specimen of the Cie-

1908.] SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON 59

ator's handiwork — is destined, together with all its faculties, to
be one day ravished with the brightness of the beatific vision.
The senses too, through which the soul operates, shall enjoy
each its own peculiar object, and to the full measure of its
capacity. And yet these are the senses which this sophist is
going to " restore to their former rank " ; this the intellect for
which he proposes to "open a new and certain course." The
fabled giants of old attempted to scale heaven, and the mighty
Caesar proposed to drain the Pontine marshes and change the
course of the Tiber. But never, until the time of Lord Bacon,
did any one conceive the grand project of procuring such as-
sistance for the senses and intellect, that truth and certainty,
hitherto impossible, may henceforward be easy of access, with-
out any room for doubt or error. The sceptics of the Gre-
cian Academy doubted the testimony of their senses and all
the operations of their intellects, as well as he. But they did
not set about supplying the deficiency with the same apparent
seriousness that he does. "That which you think you see," he
would say, " you really see not, and that which you think you
hear or feel, you really do not hear or feel. Moreover, things
about which you regard it as absurd to doubt, nevertheless de-
serve to be doubted of, for the faculty by which you judge is,
of its nature, erroneous. But I, Francis Bacon, will furnish
you with an instrument, by the right use of which you can al-
ways be sure that you do really and actually see and hear and
feel that which you think you see and hear and feel, and that
you judge correctly, despite the erroneous character of your
understanding."

And this is the precise result which Bacon persistently claims
as the fruit of what he repeatedly calls his "method." It is
surprising that he should have been ignorant of the absurdity
of the claim. For what would be his answer if asked about
his own senses and understanding? Before he had yet evolved
that magic method from his inner consciousness, did his own
senses assuredly deceive him, and was his own understand-
ing by its very nature " prone to error " ? If so, how did he
construct the Novum Organum, that wonderful machine which
was to " level all capacities " and " achieve everything by the
most certain rules and demonstrations " ? He had no innate
nor infused knowledge wherewith to correct the deceptive re-
ports of his senses or the errors of his understanding, any more
than any other human being. As one of the race, he was

6o SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON [Oct.,

bound by a law of man's nature, to acquire even the begin-
nings of knowledge through his senses, just like other men.
What happened then when he awoke from the unconsciousness
of infancy and became aware for the first time that he saw or
felt or heard something ? Did his senses or his understanding
deceive him? If they did, he must remain deceived for the
present, for he has as yet acquired no knowledge with which
to correct the error. Did his senses or his understanding again
deceive him the second time that something acted upon them ?
If they did, he is again in the same difficulty as before. He
is still without any knowledge wherewith to judge whether his
senses or his understanding are deceiving him or not. And
the same will happen the third time that he received a sensa-
tion and formed a judgment, and the fourth time it will be
still the same. It will be the same with regard to every sen-
sation and every judgment of his life, until one is reached
which was not deceptive. His knowledge can begin only when
he has had a sensation and formed a judgment which were
not a deception, and his " method," if it is to be of any
value, must be founded on knowledge previously acquired.
Previous knowledge, then, is indispensable for such a method,
and a sensation and a corresponding judgment which were
not deceptive, are equally necessary for such previous knowl-
edge. Did the Lord Chancellor experience such a sensation
or form such a judgment previous to the formation of his
" method " ? If he did not, his method was impossible. He who
is lost in the labyrinth himself, is unable to furnish another
with the thread wherewith to effect his escape. If he did, his
method was unnecessary. A true sensation was experienced prior
to and independently of the sifting process of that method. His
unaided faculties of sensation were not deceptive. Neither was
his intellect in the judgment that immediately followed.

Coming now to some of the operations of the intellect he
says: "There is the same licentiousness in forming axioms and
in abstracting ideas. The syllogism consists of propositions,
propositions of words, and words are the signs of ideas. If,
therefore, the ideas which form the basis of the whole, be con-
fused and carelessly abstracted from things, there is no solidity
in the superstructure," Now for any one who understands what
an idea is, and how it is derived from an object, an idea " care-
lessly abstracted " has just about as much meaning as a sleep
carelessly taken. Care is as unnecessary in the one case as it

1908.] SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BACON 61

is in the other, and equally impossible in both. Any ideas ab-
stracted from an object, must have a corresponding reality in
that object, for otherwise how could they be abstracted from it ?
Hence the idea, as such, cannot be false. The abstracting pro-
cess may be repeated, and additional characteristics noted in
the object, but the idea thus obtained is a new one, nor is it
any truer than the former, though it is more comprehensive,
and therefore a more adequate representation of the object.
My idea is equally verified in the man about whom I am think-
ing, whether I think of him as a rational animal or merely as
a living being. Moreover if the process of abstracting ideas
were subject to error, we should have to face once again the
same insuperable barrier to knowledge, that would follow from
the deception of the senses, since a true idea of the object is
as necessary a condition of the beginning of knowledge as a
true impression upon the senses. Nor must Bacon be inter-
preted as meaning by " ideas carelessly abstracted " judgments
carelessly formed, for he distinctly says that "propositions are
made up of words, and words are the signs of ideas.1* The
idea therefore, according to Bacon, must share the fate of the
sensation and the judgment. It may be deceptive.

But the havoc is not yet complete. Though man's senses
" assuredly deceive," though his intellect has error " inherent
in its nature,1' and a " carelessness in abstracting ideas," his
faculties must be dwarfed still further. His soul has yet one
grand characteristic left, in which above all others it resembles
its Creator — the power of self-consciousness — and this, too, Ba-
con is resolved to destroy. Indeed we have already witnessed
one of his efforts to destroy it. We have already heard him
declare that " no knowledge of the nature of the rational soul
can be had from philosophy." This is the same as saying that
no knowledge of the operations of the human soul can be had
from philosophy, for it is a principle confirmed by experience,
that as are the operations, such is the nature. To say then
that the soul cannot know its own nature is to say that it can-
not know its own operations. But lest we should fail to draw
this conclusion for ourselves, and thus be ignorant of his teach-
ing on this all- important point of doctrine, he is careful to
leave us an explicit statement to the same effect. " It is solely
in the interpretation of external nature" he says, "that the hu-
man soul shows its strength, but when it returns upon itself and
seeks to apprehend itself, it is like a spider, that can merely

62 SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON [Oct.,

draw from itself fine, delicate threads, which, however, have no
solidity or user This is as near as he dares come to saying
what he wants to say. But the implication is evident. If he
were to admit that the human soul is a spiritual and not a
material substance, how could he deny either solidity or use-
fulness to the act of self-consciousness ? Notice he does not
say "when it apprehends itself," but "when it seeks to appre-
hend itself." He would make it appear, a little while ago, that
he was going only half way with scepticism, by telling us that
his method and that of the sceptics " agree at first setting out,
but differ most widely in their conclusions." We have seen
however, that logically he went, and had to go, the whole way.
Theoretically he now goes only half way with materialism and
the consequent scepticism regarding the truths of consciousness.
But in practice he goes the whole way as before. He would
have the soul avoid seeking to apprehend itself, since the re-
sults are neither solid nor useful. The act of self-consciousness,
too, is a deception — one more added to the many deceptions
we have had to contend with ! Man is capable of knowing ex-
ternal nature, but such knowledge cannot itself become an ob-
ject of thought. Man knows, but he is not capable of knowing
that he knows, or of knowing what he knows.

Locke, who was born six years after Bacon's death, finding
in this philosophy only the shadow of a spiritual soul — the
semblance without the reality — reduced intellectual cognition to
a mere operation of the senses. He constructed the Philoso-
phy of Sensation out of the raw materials which he found in
Bacon's workshop. Then by the application of the so-called
"critical method" to the philosophy of Locke, there sprang
into existence a host of new systems, all equally grotesque, yet
all retaining the name of philosophy. Some of them admitted
the subjective element in cognition, but denied the reality of
the object ; others denied the reality of object and mind alike ;
while not a few identified the one with the other, making the
human mind a mere phase or function of matter. And thus
we have the sensism of Locke, the idealism of Berkeley, the
scepticism of Hume, and the materialism and atheism of Dide-
rot, Voltaire, and Rousseau, all the legitimate offspring of the
philosophy of Bacon, the philosophy that was to "open a new
and certain course for the mind " and decrease the number of
" wanderings and wanderers."

But is not such a doctrine of self-consciousness refuted by

1908.] SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BACON 63

the self-conscious act which Bacon endeavors to disprove?
Are we not sometimes self-conscious and at the same time con-
scious that we are self-conscious ? What prevents one from
thinking about himself, and while he thus thinks, becoming
aware that he is doing so ? Once more, the possibility of self-
consciousness is proved by the self-conscious act. Moreover,
if the act whereby the soul "seeks to apprehend itself," has
no solidity, how is it ever going to become aware of its own
errors? No amount of investigation of external nature can
make it aware that it is or is not conformed to its object. If
it be capable of no solid introspective act, how is it to distin-
guish the " idols of the tribe " — those errors which it has in
common with the rest of men — from the "idols of the den," or
those which are peculiar to itself ? Furthermore, what becomes
of moral obligation if the act of self-consciousness be once ad-
mitted to be unreliable ? How can every man be " a law unto
himself" (Rom. ii. 14) if his intellect has no "solidity or use"
except in investigating external nature ? Why should the law
have been written by the Creator in the hearts of the Gentiles,
if they were unable to look within and read it, and how could
their consciences "bear witness to them" (Ibid. ii. 15) if they
were incapable of listening to their dictates? "If our immedi-
ate internal experience could possibly deceive us," says Leib-
nitz, " there could be no longer for us any truth of fact nor
any truth of reason."

And now we are come to the end of Lord Bacon's scepti-
cism. He does not mention any other deception, but it is only
because no other deception is even thinkable. He has doubted
every report of every sensitive faculty ; he has doubted the
truth of every idea abstracted from every object by the act of
simple apprehension ; he has doubted the reliability of every
judgment and every process of reasoning; he has doubted the
" solidity " of every act of self-consciousness. There is one
thing, however, about which he has no doubt, namely that the
human soul is incapable of acquiring any knowledge of its own
nature, origin, or destiny, of the God Who created it, of crea-
tion itself, or of the moral law; nor is it even capable of ac-
quiring any knowledge of physical nature independently of his
" method." The incapability is for him beyond all doubt.

And if we suppose him to have been sincerely convinced
lat all this was so, does he not deserve our pity rather than

64 SCEPTICISM THE PHILOSOPHY OF LORD BA CON [Oct.

our ridicule, when we find him cherishing, throughout the
greater part of a long lifetime, the deluded hope that he
should succeed in changing it all by the magic influence of his
"method"? That "method " is to sift the information of the
senses and restore them to their former rank ; it is to open and
establish a new and certain course for the mind ; it is to level
men's wit and genius, and leave but little to their superiority;
it is to " establish forever the real and legitimate union of the
empirical and rational faculties, whose sullen and inauspicious
divorces and repudiations have disturbed everything in the
great family of mankind " (Preface Novum Otganum). But
whatever may have been his convictions, and whatever may
have been his purpose, the influence of his philosophy has
been strikingly at variance with the project he has here set
forth. He has led many others to doubt as he did. He has
disestablished forever, in the minds of many, the real and legiti-
mate union of the empirical and rational faculties.*

Of what avail is his solicitude that " reason yield to faith
the tribute due to faith," when his philosophy would wreck
the foundations of all reason and of all faith ? To what pur-
pose do his pages teem with pity for the bodily ills of man-
kind, when he would plant in their souls the deeper and
deadlier maladies of materialism and scepticism and atheism ?
Anxious that " what is human should not prejudice what is
divine," he would do away with every reality both human and
divine. He would destroy human nature, by denying to man
everything that raises him above the brute. He would destroy
all belief in the existence of the Divinity, by making Him un-
known and unknowable to the world which He created.

" I trust in Nature for the stable laws
Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant,
And Autumn garner, to the end of time.
I trust in God — the right shall be the right,
And other than the wrong, while He endures.
I trust in my own soul, that can perceive
The outward and the inward — Nature's good
And God's."

* " It has been," says Cardinal Newman, " and is to this day, the tendency of Bacon's
philosophy to depreciate and trample on theology." And Lecky speaks in the same strain.
"It was from the writings of Bacon and Locke," he says, " that Voltaire and his followers
drew the principles that shattered the proudest ecclesiastical fabrics of Europe."

WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS.

BY H. E. P.

VI.

THE VILLAGE SCHOOL.

YEW-TREE with a pond beneath it, and beyond
the tree a low, straggling house with a thatched
roof — a wide, hospitable door protected by a porch
containing seats, a stretch of gravel which leads
from the door to the garden gate, skirting the
pond on its way — such is the old schoolhouse. Built for a farm,
perhaps two centuries earlier, the farm in time was swallowed
up by some greater landlord, and the house — too big for a cot-
tage, and too inconvenient for anything better — seventy years
ago became the only school in the village.

The chief room during the Jays the place was a farm, was
just as useful when the house was a school. The flag-stoned
kitchen, with its great fireplace, not only held all the children,
but teaching went on while the dinner was being cooked. The
teaching in those days was scanty and expensive. Twopence
for each subject was a price that sadly limited the learning,
when wages were eight or ten shillings a week, and the
children at home about as numerous as the shillings. Boys
learnt addition and reading, girls sewing and writing or read-
ing, rarely the two latter together. When one of these arts
was acquired, the other might be begun, but not till then, for
the school-fees were generally limited to fourpence. It was
only the better class, such as farmers' sons and daughters, who
could indulge in the luxury of three subjects at once, and bring
a silver sixpence Saturdays.

The children sat on forms or chairs according to their size
in the kitchen. There were no classes with titles, and the
word " standard " was not born till forty years after the time
of which I write. The teaching was of a domestic nature, be-
ing mixed up with the housework and cookery, and sometimes
even with the baby, when the schoolmistress happened to pos-
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 5

66 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Oct.,

sess one. The idea that the teaching of cookery or washing,
or housewifery in school, is a modern development, is a com-
plete mistake, for these subjects were taught in a most practi-
cal, if not a very scientific, manner seventy or eighty years ago.
The fireplace in the great kitchen was a continual source
of wonder and mystery to the children. It went back deep
into the wall, so deep that on either hand was a seat built
in the masonry, wide enough to let two persons sit side by
side and warm themselves. The fire itself was down on the
hearthstone, and two roughly made iron " dogs," something like
door-scrapers, stood out from the back, and supported the
ends of the wood logs, which sent their blaze up into the great
black cavern above. Down the middle of the chimney there
came — but hanging from what was a mystery — a huge sooty
iron chain, ending in a hook, which held the kettle or pot in
the flames. But the thing of all others that delighted the boys
was the "smoke-jack." Somewhere far up the huge old chim-
ney was a fan that revolved with the draught. In the kitchen,
near the ceiling, a wonderful piece of machinery protruded from
the wall above the fireplace. Now and then, on account of old
age or want of oil, it would utter dismal sounds. Some of the
squeaks came down the chimney, and then the children thought
that the Old Man up there — for his existence was firmly be-
lieved in — was tired, or else the smoke or heat were too much
tor his feelings. Old Mrs. Luff, the teacher, would on these
occasions make the scholars get out of their places, and when
they had moved their forms and chairs to one side of the kit-
chen, call them to assist at moving the great table across to
the chimney place. Then a chair was put on the table, and
the old lady, taking a wooden skewer with a dab of lard on
the end of it, would mount on the chair, and insert the skewer
deftly in some vital part of the machine, when the groans would
get easier, and finally cease.

The climax of joy was reached, when there was really
something to roast with the smoke-jack. This didn't happen
often, for in those days persons of the working class rarely -or
never ate meat, with the exception of bacon. But when the
parents of one of the children sent the teacher a chicken, that
was the chance. "Will he be roasted or biled ?" was a ques-
tion debated with suppressed excitement ; and the child who
was privileged to pluck the feathers off instead of doing sums,

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 67

was the one who generally conveyed to the rest the final fate
of the fowl. If the operation was roasting, an apparatus was
set down before the fire which consisted of a long steel spit,
having a wheel at one end, and a sharp point at the other.
Everything had to be spitted so that it would balance, and
this was an art. With a fowl it was comparatively easy,
but with a leg of mutton, or a lop-sided piece of beef, it was
often difficult to secure a balance that was perfectly true.
The spit, when in use, was fixed between two heavy iron
blocks which stood on the hearth before the fire. From the
big wheel hung a curious and rather greasy black leather
strap. On roasting days this strap was taken down, and Mrs.
Luff, with many twists and jerks and shakes, would throw it
up until she got it over the big wheel, and well into the
groove that ran round it for that purpose. The other end of
the strap would be placed round the wheel or the spit, and
when tightness was secured by forcing the spit down into the
blocks, the chicken would begin to revolve in front of the
flames.

Before these final preparations were made for the day's
dinner, the children were arriving for school. It is a damp
morning perhaps — one of those days when, without exactly
raining, a "Mendip mist" wets everything through and through
in the gentlest and most unsuspecting manner. The children,
damp with the " misk," as they call it, stand inside the old
fireplace. Three or four make a group on either side, some
of the bigger ones standing on the stone seats at the back,
and the girls spreading out their "pinneys" with both hands,
hold them to the blazing wood to dry. When a sufficient
number of children has arrived, Mrs. Luff, with a great swing-
ing motion of her arms, drives the children from the fireplace
to their forms, much as if they were a flock of hens. The
girls get their needlework, the boys their slates, and teaching
begins. A certain amount of poetry has to be learnt by
heart, but this is reserved till later in the morning. Many in-
terruptions of the work take place, and they have the merit of
preventing it from becoming monotonous. Mr. Luff puts his
head in at the door, and requires help with a new sack of
meal for the pigs, and Charlie Moon, one of the biggest boys,
is told off to give the necessary assistance. Ten minutes later
a tramp knocks and asks for food. Mrs. Luff hands him out

68 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Oct.,

the solid bottom crust of a home-baked loaf, and shuts the
door with a suddenness which shows she is not pleased. Then
the class goes on.

The teacher looks at the clock, and decides that it is time
"to put the fowl down," as the roasting operation is described.
That being determined on, the children are set to learn poetry,
which always meant that for a while household cares were
about to occupy the teacher's attention. Then the fowl, hav-
ing been previously spitted, is set before the fire to roast, in
the manner already described. As soon as it begins to turn
in a satisfactory way, Mrs. Luff comes back to hear the
poetry. Most of it has been learnt for some time, and only
the final verses need to be got by heart. " Lucy Burge, begin
the 'Farmer's Son/" says the teacher. The child stands straight
and prim. Closing her eyes, and having her hands joined be-
hind her, she begins to recite without the least shade of into-
nation :

"A farmer's son so sweet,
A keeping of his sheep,
So careless fell asleep
While his lambs were playing.*

" A fair young lady gay
By chance she came that way
And found asleep he lay,
Whom she loved so dear."

" Go on, Polly Watts— and don't say it like the last."
The girl appealed to stands up, folds her hands, and in a
subdued voice continues:

" She kissed his lips so sweet,
As he lay fast asleep.
I fear my heart will break
For you, my dear.

" She said, Awake, I pray,
The sun is on the hay :
Your flocks will — "

" Please, mum, he be stopped," calls out one of the boys,
alluding to the fowl, which had ceased to revolve.

* Somerset Folk-Song;

1908.] WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS 69

" Go and start 'un again, then, and watch what do make
'un drug [catch]. Take thee slate over there the while," says
Mrs. Luff; and adds, addressing the poetry class: "Now go
on, Lizzie Stock."

"Your flocks will go astray
From you, my dear.

"He woke with great surprise,
And saw her handsome eyes;
An angel from the skies
She did appear." \

" He be too heavy underside, mum," is the verdict of the
boy who had been set to watch the failings of the chicken.
"Wants a bit t'other side."

Mrs. Luff appears not to hear. " Now say the two new
verses, and don't spile 'um. Next maid."

" For your sweet sake alone
I wandered from my home.
My friends are dead and gone;
I am missed by none.

" His flock he laid aside,
Made her his gentle bride:
In wedlock she was tied
To the farmer's son."

Having started the last two verses, the teacher goes to the
larder and returns with a lump of bacon, which she pins with
a skewer where the boy suggests, and then waits to see the
effect. Yes, the balance is right, and the fowl revolves without
further hesitation.

Things being thus happily settled, the scholars can do more
serious work. Mary Ann James has her sampler and Mrs.
Luff gives directions. The sampler is an extraordinary work
of art, beginning at the top with all the capital letters. These
are followed by the humbler forms in cross-stitch, and the use
of the two kinds, combined, is illustrated by a verse which says :

Mary Ann James, aged Eleven,

Is a good girl And hopes for Heaven.

70 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Oct.,

On either side of the verse is a tree in a pot. The branches
grow with wonderful regularity, this result being caused more
by the requirements of the canvas than any desire to improve
on nature. Below the verse is an array of fancy stitches, and
these are followed by the Doxology. Some final flourishes
bring the piece to a close. The sampler had been in hand
many weeks, perhaps months, and it was looked on as one of
the greatest works ever produced in the school, or, perhaps, as
some of the children imagined, in any other school. It had
cost many tears, and much red and black marking cotton, and
was to be framed when finished, and hung up at home as a
trophy for all time. This was not the only sampler in the
school, for Susan Jones was working one as well. But hers
was very ordinary. There were no flowers and no fancy stitches,
only the letters great and small, and no poetry. Her father
was a farm laborer at ten shillings a week, and the wages
would not run to red and black marking cotton. So Susan's
sampler was a humble affair and excited no attention.

It is not easy, after a lapse of sixty or seventy years, to
find out exactly what the children, particularly the boys, really
did learn. Some boyish prank seems to stick in the memory
better than lessons. " I do mind she, she beat I shameful,"
said an old man to me one day, when I was trying to restore
some early memories, and had asked him about Mrs. Luff.
" But I paid she out," he added, " least in a sart of way.
You see, Father, she'd locked I up in the cupboard under the
stairs, for summat I'd ha' done, and there wur a little keg o'
porter there, and I thought I'd turn the tap and let 'un run
a bit, and there wouldn't be so much in he next time she
corned to drar her supper's beer. It wur martal dark under
them stair, but the light corned in through the cracks betwix
the boards, and presently I could see enough for me mischief.
Back beside the keg wur a jar, mabbe he'd hold two gallon or
so. ' Wonder what she keeps in thic 'un,' I says to mysel',
and I pulls he up to the door. You see, Father, there wur
more light come through under the door, and I could see a
bit plainer there. I outs wi' the cark, and spills some of the
stuff on the floor, and I'm blessed if it ain't porter agen.
'The old girl's fond o' porter,' I says, 'but she won't see thic
lot agen.' The jar wur only half full, so I puts 'un under the tap
in the keg, and fills 'un up to the cark. Then I ha' got to

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 71

get out. The kay corned through the door, and I tries to
turn the end of 'un wi' me fingers, but he wur too shart.
Well, Father, I weren't a gwoin' to bide there, so I pushes
the kay out, and he falls on the floor t'other side. I get me
fingers under the door, and I soon has hold of that there kay,
and it ain't a minute afore the door's onlocked. I gets me jar,
locks the door agen after me, and goes out tiptoe, so she
shouldn't hear I from the kitchen, and I crumps down when I
passes under the winder, and puts the jar in the lavendar bush,
just by the teacher's gate. Afternoon school comes, and I wur
there along wi' the rest. Teacher wants to know who let I
out o' jail, and I says I turned the kay from the inside — which
wur true enough — and she says as how I'll live to be hanged,
and that ain't happened yet, Father, and I be seventy. Even-
ing comes, and the chaps wur all stood top of the lane talking.
I goes up to them, and asks them if they wants a couple o'
gallon o' porter, for I know'd for some. They didn't want
much asking neither, and one of 'um goes in home and gets a
mug, and we takes the jar to the conqueror tree [horse-chest-
nut] in Farmer John's paddock. The chap as had the mug
held 'un up, and we filled 'un out o' the jar, and blowed the
froth arf and filled 'un up agen, so he wur full. 'Twur Charlie
Dark drank 'un arf — him as I told you as come wi' we when
we got them rabbit wires from the old manor house — and you
should ha' zeed he ! He was up on his legs in a minit, roar-
in* and shoutin' and hollerin', and saying he wur pisin'd and
wur agwoin' to die, and then he'd throw hisself down on the
grass and roll over and over, and hold hisself, and then start
roarin' and hollerin' agen. The rest of the chaps wur about
scared, and we wur all asking what wur the matter, when we
sees old Parson Torley — you do mind he, Father, he wur very
old when he died — coming across the paddock from his house.
I 'spect he'd ha' zeed we wi' thic jar under the tree, and wur
acoming to stop we. When we zeed the parson, we all runned
out of the paddock 'cept the chap as a ha' had the porter, and
he wur too rough [ill]. What do you think I ha' done,
Father ? I ha' drar'd a gallon o' porter on top of a gallon o'
the school ink, and Charlie Dark ha' had a pint o' the mixture,
and next day he wern't none the worse, neither."

Other memories crowd in, and one by one the details of
hose simple school days live again, and I learn of the diffi-

72 WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS [Oct.,

culties of' the much-enduring Mrs. Luff. Her mathematical
powers seem to have been limited, and as boys were apt to
be unruly if over pressed, sums occupied but a small place in
the educational system.

Mrs. Luff had a husband who took a useful, if somewhat
secondary part in the teaching work of the establishment.
When some boy had become more than ordinarily out of hand,
it was Mr. Luff who was called in to meet the emergency.
The correction took various forms, for it depended on what
the old gentleman was doing at the time. If he was working
in the garden — worst of all, if he was putting sticks to the
peas or beans — he generally had something to hand that would
meet the requirements of the situation. If he was sweeping
the stable, he arrived with the broom or the whip at the
school door, in response to Mrs. Luff's call of " Richard ! " in
a tone of voice that neither he nor the culprit ever misunder-
stood. Strangest of all was when he was in his little bake-
house across the yard at the back — he baked bread for others
besides himself, for the neighbors thought no oven so good
as the one in the old farmhouse — and was sent for suddenly
to quell a riot that had taken place among these bigger boys.
The heads of a couple of the most deserving — chosen more by
reputation than from actual guilt — would show marks of floury
fingers, and then the baking was resumed. Sometimes, when
unforeseen difficulties arose in the boys' sums, and Mrs. Luff
was not equal to them — she was not intended to be — the slate
was ordered to the bakehouse for solution. If the visit was
well-timed, and the hot loaves were just out of the oven,
there were steaming pieces of soft crust to be deftly picked off,
while Mr. Luff, slate in hand, was busy explaining the rules
of subtraction.

Such was this old-world school, and such its simple ways
and teaching.

I am sorry the history of Mrs. Luff's teaching establishment
has to end in a cloud, but some fifty years ago, the disappear-
ance of her husband was one of our village tragedies. Richard
Luff had set out on a December morning, with his old pony
and cart, to go to Coleford. I am not going to tell the story
now — it will do for another time — but towards four o'clock,
when it was getting dark, the pony and trap came slowly into
the yard at the back of the house, and it was some half-hour

I908.J

WES T- CO UNTR Y ID YLLS

or more afterwards, that Mrs. Luff discovered that they had
come alone. From that December day Richard Luff disappeared
totally and entirely. His wife tried to keep up the school, for
she had nothing else for her support, but it slowly failed. The
numbers grew less and less, as the teaching became poorer and
poorer, and at last the four or five children that remained did
not return when the school opened again after the following
summer. Mrs. Luff had never recovered the loss of her hus-
band, and she was mentally unfit to teach, or indeed to look
after herself, as her health and strength were failing. When
the great landlord found that she no longer paid her rent — in
the forty years she had lived in the farmhouse she had paid
for the old place over and over again — he gave her a month's
notice, and Mrs. Luff had to give up her home. The pigs and
the cow had long ago been sold, and neighbors had bought
odd pieces of furniture from time to time, and on the proceeds
the poor old lady had managed to live up to the present.
Now with the home gone, and everything of value sold off,
there was only the workhouse left. Thither they carted Mrs.
Luff in an open cart, one November morning, with her box
containing the salvage from the wreck and her feather-bed
rolled in a bundle. The beech-trees shed great brown leaves
on her like tears, as she passed down the dear old familiar
Green Lane, out on to the Bath road, on her way to exile for
the crime of being lonely and poor and old.

Under the strain of workhouse life her mind gradually grew
more feeble, and amid the poor creatures clustered there, she
lived her few remaining years in childishness. Sometimes, when
she happened to see half a dozen old cronies sitting in a row
knitting or talking, Mrs. Luff would think she was back at
her school, and had a class of little village maids before her.
Sitting in front, she would bid them say their poetry, and when
some aged dame had mumbled out a verse or two she had
learnt as a child, Mrs. Luff would say: "Next," in the same
tone of voice as of old. And when these pupils were tired of
playing school, or the mistress thought them idle, she would
hobble across the room, and opening the door, put her head
out, and shout : " Richard ! "

MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE.

BY MARY E. MANNIX.
I.

|T. FRANCIS DE SALES is the patron of story-
tellers. It was his delight during recreation
hours to amuse those about him with charm-
ing little anecdotes and sprightly narrations, each
of which — a gem in itself — bore, like a sparkle
of light, a moral concealed within its bosom. Many, and of
infinite variety, are the stories which have been told and are
still in the telling since his day ; but, alas ! the right kind of
stories are rare. Stories that are short yet to the point — dra-
matic, yet wholesome — full of the little tragedies and ironies oi
life, yet lacking the luridness which French writers, especially,
seem to consider necessary to success.

Stories like those of St. Francis, while sparkling with
vivacity and brilliant with color, carry a moral which lin-
gers as long as their delicate tracery lasts. Stories in which
each line and each word count for much ; a simple phrase
which fixes the background in our minds — two or three strokes
of a practised pen, and the characters seem like old friends;
then, lo! with a step, a word, a gesture, the story is finished.
To be able to write thus is a fine art; it is also a gift. If
it has not been granted us, no study, no apprenticeship, no
labor can teach what must be inborn. Such a gift was given
to Julie Lavergne.

Cecile Josephine Julie Ozaneaux was born at Paris, Decem-
ber 19, 1823. Her father, Jean Georges Ozaneaux, was Pro-
fessor of Philosophy in the College Royal Charlemagne, and
also a native of Paris, while her mother, Catherine Lucie Sproit,
was born at Lille. M. Ozaneaux took entire charge of the
education of the children. The system which he followed con-
sisted in addressing himself to the reason of the child and, un-
like that usually followed, trusting in the least possible degree
to memory. Grammar or history lessons were never learned

1908.] MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE 75

by heart. They were related by the master, and the pupil was
obliged to show by her observations and responses how atten-
tive she had been to the recital and how much of it she had
understood.

He desired his daughter to pay special attention to com-
position; style being the object of his particular care. Having
been appointed Inspector General of Schools, M. Ozaneaux was
often obliged to be absent from home. On these occasions
Julie wrote to him every day, giving an account of what she
had seen and done. When her letter was especially good the
father, who had wonderful talent with the pencil, would make
a picture of the scene of the recital, which was placed in her
album by the delighted child — thus recompensed for her liter-
ary talent and success.

The religious instruction was also given by the father, who
composed and had printed at Toulouse a small book entitled
Religious Instructions and Prayers for My Children. The dedi-
cation is as follows:

Julie, Clotilde, Lucien.

This little book has been made for you. Preserve it with
care as a souvenir of your parents — meditate upon it as the
most important among the lessons you will have to learn.
And if some day you should have children, put it into their
hands. God grant that they may profit by it, as I desire that
you will also.

Be good, my children, and you will be happy.

G. O.

This little book comprises in seven chapters the principal
doctrines of the Catholic Church. It also contains morning,
evening, and Mass prayers; to the latter explanatory notes are
added. It is worthy of re-publication. It has at least, unlike
many others of the same kind, the merit of being easily learned
and intelligible to childish minds.

- It was in such an atmosphere, sheltered by the love and
solicitude of her parents, that Julie passed the first period
of her life. After many years of strenuous mental labor M.
Ozaneaux, whose advancing age relegated him to duties less
arduous, securing leisure for him during the greater part of the
year, finally installed himself at Versailles. He lived there from
1838 to 1844, occupying himself with the education of his chil-

76 MADAME JULIE LA VERGNE [Oct.,

dren and the composition of several important works, such as the
History of France in two volumes — which was crowned by the
Academy — and a French-Greek Dictionary. The distinguished
author, Casimir Delavigne, was his intimate friend, and both
found amid the splendors and historic interest of Versailles
sources of unfailing inspiration.

His daughter Julie shared in his appreciation of the place
and its legends. She knew and admired Versailles so intimately
that she embodied her feelings and her knowledge in the cele-
brated Legends of Trianon. Life in the Rue Mademoiselle,
Versailles, was the simplest possible. M. Ozaneaux went alone
to the State balls and ceremonial functions of the Court or the
Ministry. Occasionally in the evenings a few friends would
drop in, or they would go abroad, where the amusement con-
sisted of dancing and charades. These were the only distrac-
tions of the family.

At home [writes Julie Ozaneaux in 1843] every one is
occupied with his or her duties — my father in his office, en-
trenched in a double rampart of books and papers, Lucien at
school, Clotilde and I with Mamma. In the evening the
whole family gather around the brightly lighted table ; we
read, work, and chat — happier than if the time were passed at
the noisy soirees. Nevertheless an invitation came last week
to disturb the uniformity. We were bidden to the Royal play
at Trianon. My father went with Clotilde and on their re-
turn, they delighted us with an account of the ravishing
beauty and wonderful toilettes of the young princesses.

We may have some idea of the intellectual progress of
Julie by the following extract from a letter written to her be-
loved father, when she was little more than seventeen :

I love to vary my occupations. It multiplies my pleasures,
and — thanks to this habit of changing from one thing to an-
other— I listen with delight, now to a serious conversation,
now to a foolish one.

After having reasoned and exchanged opinions with my
elders, I run around with the children and play with the cats
and dogs. I look with admiration on a beautiful picture, I
listen to a musical composition with the greatest pleasure,
and that does not hinder me from being delighted with a toy
flute and laughing with all my heart. I can accommodate

1908.] MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE 77

myself to circumstances; having serious books on hand I
study them — with those of lighter vein I laugh — happy even
when alone. However I will confess, that I like to mend
stockings better than to read some of those musty, dull old
books. Still, wherever I may be, I am always able to occupy
myself.

There is only one thing which I cannot endure — the society
of stupid and ignorant persons. What I like best in all the
world is to be in the company ol thoughtful, intelligent, edu-
cated people. This privilege has thus far been accorded me,
and, in as far as in me lies, I resolve always to possess it.

Julie had the intellect of a man with the heart of a
woman. In all things essentially feminine — gay, lively, amia-
ble, and attractive — at the same time, she had resources within
herself which were not shared by other girls, who, as she ap-
proached womanhood, were her acquaintances and occasional
companions. Society could never fascinate her, nor its multi-
farious claims and exigencies ever hold her in thrall. Her
spirit was an independent one, as we shall learn through the
following extract from a letter, written in 1817 to her father:

. I am going to tell you of the disappointment of my
life — the only lasting and irremediable regret I have ever had.
I am a girl (there it is) and I can never be a boy. Alas! if
I were, my studies would now be completed, and I assure you
they would have been honorably finished. Proud of the suc-
cess of my examinations, proud of the name I bear, I should
have seen a hundred careers open before me. I would have
chosen yours, my father. I would have been a professor and
perhaps gone to Colmor, as you did, to begin my new life.

But as I am only a girl — what have I done since ? What is
there for me to do? I have been happy, I am so still; but
I have done nothing to earn happiness. As a boy I would
have been a scholar — I would have attained an honorable
position, where you would have been prond of me.

As a girl I pass my time in various trifling occupations. I
know nothing thoroughly. Latin and the sciences I loved
have been laid aside ; I have renounced them, yet feeling all
the time I must resume them. But I am a girl, and I have a
dislike to " blue-stockings." . . .

I^ove me always, my dear father, even though I am only
that stupid and inconvenient person denominated a "mar-
riageable daughter." If I cannot find a husband such as I

78 MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE [Oct.,

•

desire, I shall remain single. I shall never leave you, and
with the passage of time, I shall study — I shall learn, and
when I am old I shall be a savantc! That is a consolation.

Greet beautiful Alsace for me. Tell your friends that I
love them because they love you. Write to me, I beg, and
love me always as well as if I could sign myself

Jui/ES OZANKAUX.

But Julie was not destined to comb St. Catherine's tresses.
Shortly after the preceding letter was written, the family be-
came acquainted with M. Claudius Lavergne, a young artist of
Lyons who had come to Paris to reside, after having spent
some time in Italy. He was a friend of the illustrious Abbe
Lacordaire, and for a time had serious thoughts of entering
the Dominican Order. The future husband and wife were at
once attracted to each other, and only a short time elapsed
until, with the hearty consent of Julie's parents, the couple
were engaged. At this period Claudius Lavergne was more
pious than his future wife and, on the threshold of marriage,
instead of pouring forth protestations of love and admiration,
we find him writing to her in terms which drew forth the fol-
lowing ingenuous response :

Blushingly I confess to you, that though short has been the
time I have passed in the world, it has enfeebled the pure
faith and trust ol my earlier youth.

But in loving you I have renewed them, and nothing can
better explain the happiness I feel in having found them
again than to tell you that all at once I feel myself worthy to
pray, and to pray for you. Be my guide, my friend; make
me good and pious like yourself; and, above all, never doubt
that I love you.

Serious and reserved though the young artist was by na-
ture, he unfolded his soul when among his friends. Hand-
some, amiable, a good conversationalist and a fine singer, his
presence in the Ozaneaux household served to increase the
peace and joy that always reigned there. Travel and inter-
course with the world had broadened his mind without injur-
ing the faith of his soul. Julie. could not understand what had
attracted him to her. But he could very easily have ex.
plained that. It was the charm of her manner, as well as the
simplicity and transparency of her soul. They were married

i9o8.J MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE 79

on the ninth of November, 1844, in the parish church of St.
Louis-en-1'Isle, where Julie Ozaneaux had been baptized. The
Abbe Lacordaire performed the ceremony, and finding himself
in the presence of a large assembly — composed for the most
part of university men who did not often hear a sermon — he
profited by the occasion to give a masterly explanation of the
Catholic religion.

Ten months after their marriage their first child, Lucie, was
born. She was baptized by Father Lacordaire in the same
church where her mother had been baptized and married. Mme.
Lavergne writes of the joyful event as follows:

The moment the child was born the mother made the sign
of the cross on her forehead. Then her father placed a medal
of the Blessed Virgin around her neck. It was four o'clock
in the morning — a brilliant star glittered above Notre Dame,
which can be seen from our windows. Stella Matutina !
Dawn of joys maternal, first prelude of sacrifice, the child
whom Thou gavest me was later to bear Thy name !

Seventeen years later this child became a religious, and a
most saintly one. Her star still watched over her — she was
given the name of Sister Marie Stella.

II.

From her youth Julie Lavergne was impressed by the say-
ing of St. Paul : " The mother shall be saved by the children
she brings into the world." She had nine in the maternal nest
and the last was as welcome as the first. On the occasion of
the birth of the ninth she wrote :

This dear child was welcomed as joyfully as would have
been a first-born son — his brothers and sisters surrounding
his cradle with a joyousness of expression worthy the shep-
herds of Bethlehem. The number of these pensioners of the
good God does not affright us. He is rich enough to take
care of them, good enough to lead them in the right way, and
who knows but He may honor us by reserving one entirely
for Himself.

And finally, I love them all too well not to be persuaded
that they will grow up to be respectable men and women —
something greatly needed in our day.

8o MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE [Oct.

In 1 86 1 she wrote to her sister:

How I wish I could show you my children ! You cannot
imagine how glad I am to have seven, and how deeply I
mourn the void that my two angels in heaven have left
behind. Claudius would have been thirteen — Marie-Rose
twelve. I am always seeing the places where their dear
heads would have lain. How a mother suffers in losing a
child ! They had hardly drawn a breath and yet I shall
never forget them.

As long as her children were small they were taught at
home by their mother, or under the maternal eye. Later, at
convent or college they completed their education. Then came
the time when, having sheltered them as long as possible under
her wing, she was obliged to see them face alone the realities
of life.

In 1873 a new military law obliged the eldest son, Noel^
artist and painter like his father, to serve for a year in a regi-
ment of the line. Of the most intense artistic temperament,
eminently sensible, and pure as an angel, Noel Lavergne was
singularly disinclined to, and unfitted for, military life. The
contrast between the home and associations he had left and
the surroundings in which he found himself caused him a good
deal of discouragement. In this moral distress he had re-
course to that never-failing friend and sympathizer, his mother,
who was not, however, a weak mother in any sense of the
word. Two extracts from letters written by her at this time
will be sufficient to indicate the character of the advice she
gave her son, to part from whom had been a veritable cruci-
fixion :

You say the soldiers are vicious brutes. Alas ! my son, are
civilians any better ? You do not know the world, my child ;
you believe, perhaps, that all vice is centered in the regiment.
In civil life it is even worse — there hypocrisy and an elegant
exterior often conceal crimes the most hideous. All that is
not Christian is almost diabolical. L,et us thank God He has
preserved us from the like ; thank Him and tremble, for He
will demand from each one according to what he has received.
In the place of these evil-doers we would, probably, have been
as wicked as they. We should learn to admire that which is
superior, and compassionate that which is beneath us — but
before God let us never be satisfied with ourselves.

1908.] MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE Si

Well, my dear boy, Sursum Corda ! St. Francis de Sales
says that in imagination we combat and conquer the monsters
of Africa, while in reality we permit ourselves to be van-
quished by the little beasts we meet on the roadside.

Keep yourself unspotted, first of all ; and that done, take
care that your piety be of the kind that bears fruit. Put ob-
stacles, trials, and sufferings under your feet, and sing the
song of the hussars. For, after all, that is the real French
gaiety — the true song of France.

These innumerable regulations are very wise. It is neces-
sary to be arbitrary in order to command sustained attention
and obedience. You see all that disgusts you in one quick
glance, as it were; curses and blasphemies revolt you — and
you judge everything accordingly. Apparently nothing
could be more absurd than the following counsel given by
St. Pacomius to his disciple, but mark the sequel :

Said the saint : " Plant this dry stick, go and draw some
water from the Jordan a league from here, and water it. To-
morrow do the same, and so on, till the stick blooms and blos-
soms." The little novice obeyed, and at the end of three
years the dry twig was covered with flowers — but the novice
had become a saint.

It is likely your corporal no more resembles St. Pacomius
than your broom resembles the palm of the desert ; you must
water the twig of grace and good humor, and, raising your
eyes, acknowledge that all which oppresses and wounds us
in this world has been ordained by the will of God.

Such lessons were not long without fruit. The young sol-
dier took courage and was advanced to the rank of corporal,
and later that of sergeant and lieutenant. Death came early
to this ardent, faithful soul, and his comrades often bore wit-
ness to the joyous enthusiasm and military spirit of the artist,
poet and soldier, Noel Lavergne.

Mme. Lavergne was called upon to give up five of her
children. Her eldest daughter became a religious at the age
of seventeen, dying at twenty-seven. Although she had been
parted from her loving mother for ten years, the affection
which existed between them had never diminished, as will be
seen by the following extract to Dom Jehan Solesmes. She
wrote :

I am going to ask you to pray for me, that I may be en-
abled to carry my cross courageously. My daughter, Sister
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 6

82 MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE [Oct.,

Marie Stella, was the eldest— the only one of my children
whom my mother had known. She left me for God only, and
since her entrance into religion it appeared that our mutual
affection was greater than before. I was proud and happy to
see her so good a religious, beloved and appreciated by all
who knew her.

She was as beautiful as she was good, and I have seen her
die in the flower of her age. My tears will not cease falling.
I see her constantly before my eyes, and it is very hard for
me to submit to the will of God. I must try, nevertheless, to
be worthy of rejoining her in heaven.

My other children are all with me, caressing, embracing,
trying to console me. I am a happy mother — I know it, I
feel it — and yet I can do naught but weep.

Still later she wrote :

Lucie is constantly before my eyes ; I cannot accustom my-
self to the dreadiul thought " She is dead ! She is dead ! "
I spend hours weeping in the chapel of Sion (the convent
where her daughter had been a religious) .

Mtne. Lavergne had scarcely begun to recover from the death
of her daughter when a new trial awaited her. Marie Lavergne
had been with her sister during her illness; she had seen her
suffer and die, and as the pure soul of one sister took flight
into paradise, the mantle of earthly sacrifice and sanctity that
had enveloped it fluttered to the shoulders of the weeping
survivor. At that dying bed she resolved to take the place
and name of Sister Marie Stella — "to live and to die as she
had lived and died." Thus germinate the flowers of the tomb.
The sorrowing mother wrote :

Marie is about to leave us. She will enter Sion as a postu-
lant, on the eighth of September. She obtained her father's
consent before asking mine. I would have liked her to wait
until Noel had returned from his regiment, and she had
reached the age of twenty. I wanted to keep her a little
while longer — this sweet and lovely child. But she is de-
termined to go. No ; I cannot tell you the pain I feel, but I
ought not to complain — she has chosen the better part.

Sister Stella has left so sweet a memory at Sion that all the
house regards the arrival of her sister as a blessing from God.
If she perseveres, Marie will take the veil the sixth of Janu-
ary and will have her sister's name. She will be Sister Marie

1908.] MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE 83

Stella II. She will be twenty on that day. She is radiant
with joy, making all her little preparations — like Lucie. Her
good health makes me believe that the double sacrifice will
not be asked of me, and that God will take me out of this
world before giving me the sorrow of surviving her.

Alas ! such was not to be the case. Nine years later the
second Star rejoined the other — in heaven.

In the spring of 1882 Sister Marie Stella, teacher of draw-
ing and painting in the convent, was sent by her Superior to
the house at Royan for much needed rest, where she died on
the second of June of that year.

Warned of her danger, her mother and younger brother
hastened to her side, where they remained during the last
fourteen days of her life. Days of inexpressible anguish they
were for the mother who, watching the least sign of hope or
improvement, was yet to follow the inevitable progress of the
malady that was destroying her daughter.

The dear child herself had but one complaint; from time to
time she would say to her companions : " Poor mamma ! How
long is her martyrdom ! " But the heart of the mother, though
tortured beyond description, was still strong and courageous
enough to hide the tears that welled up from her bosom. Poor
mother! she had no illusions. She wrote from Royan:

My child is dying. You know how I love her — how worthy
she is of being loved. God gives us wonderful strength. I
cannot understand the peace I feel in the midst of such
anguish. It all comes trom her example. She is resigned,
patient, always smiling, entirely abandoned to God, without
a murmur, without a regret. As she lies there, surrounded
by her family and her companions, she assures us that she
does not suffer, but her sweet face, formerly so beautiful to
look upon, is no longer recognizable as hers.

Pray for the poor child, dear friends, and ask for us also
entire submission to the will of God.

After all was over she wrote to a friend :

Last Friday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, within the
shelter of the Royan she loved so dearly, my dear angel began
to enjoy the vision of heaven. She thought she saw the
angels, the Blessed Virgin, and her sister, Lucie, awaiting
her and she said: "How happy I ieel! I am going to

84 MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE [Oct.,

heaven! As soon as I am gone, sisters, begin to sing the
Magnificat."

God has plucked this flower in all its beauty, and in doing
so has ordained for us another sacrifice. May His Name be
blessed !

My husband is wonderful in his faith and resignation. I
was with her during the last fortnight of her life, and I can
affirm that she bore her intense suffering and long agony
without a murmur — always praying, always blessing God,
and endeavoring to console the mother who was watching
her die, and who could hardly say " Amen " to her constant
"Fiat."

I did not want her to die. She had so often and so joyously
said to me : " I am going to heaven," and yet I would have
retained her in this miserable world. Finally, on the First
Friday of the Month of the Sacred Heart, at Holy Communion,
I understood what our L,ord desired of me, and I said to Him :
"Lord, take her ! To-day, at three o'clock!" And He
did it — the Lord Jesus, infinitely kind ! I cannot understand
how I had the strength to say that. All Sion weeps with us ;
but no one doubts her happiness. That is what we must
think of.

This morning at the Mass which was sung for her, her poor
father recited the Magnificat \ then he silently passed me the
book. I read it, but could not pronounce the words with my
lips. That will come later.

Our old friend, Mgr. Mermillod, who is in Rome, tele-
graphed us at once : " The Holy Father blesses you in your
sorrow. My heart is with you." Sursum Corda !

III.

Mme. Lavergne, whose graceful and prolific pen has left
France a legacy of stories that may well be called literature,
had long been a wife and mother before she put her thoughts
to paper to be given to the world.

It was not until she had passed middle-age — had lived,
loved, sorrowed, and suffered, had experienced all the horrors
of the Revolution of '48, and those ot the Commune many
years later — that she began to follow what had always been
her dearest inclination. After the events of the Franco-Prus-
sian war had altered the face of Paris and changed the old
conditions, and the success of her husband accorded her leis-

1908.] MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE 85

wre, she permitted herself the luxury of perpetuating the
thoughts and fancies which had occupied her mind from her
earliest youth. Born and educated in a very intellectual at-
mosphere, her natural gifts were fostered and encouraged by a
wise father — himself learned and unusually talented. As a
child she possessed the art of inventing and relating little
stories; her style is sufficient indication of the ease with which
she handled her pen.

Apropos of the beginnings of her literary work she wrote
to a friend in 1871 :

My heart is so full of anger against the enemy, of shame
and regret lor our unfortunate country, that I cannot read,
coolly, a single line which tells of our disasters. The very
word " Alsace " makes me weep ! I leave that cruel past to
the mercy of God, and the dreadful future to Providence, and,
tired of hearing and reading frightful things, I am like the
old mariners, who, between times, employ their leisure in the
recital of fantastic tales.

She writes thus to her daughter of some of her stories:

I hope these tales will amuse you as 'well as worldlings.

M. X is scandalized because, out of the ten stories, there

are five that end in marriage. He would wish, he says, that
I did not mention it. I took his critique in good part and re-
plied, laughingly, that the Holy Ghost was not of his opinion,
because He had admirably related to us the histories of Re-
becca, of Rachel, of Tobias, of Esther, and Ruth — matri-
monial histories — But the good man is so fearful his daugh-
ters will marry that he will not permit the wicked sacrament
to be mentioned in their presence !

Later she writes to Mme. Laporte, the only daughter of
Frederick Ozaneaux :

You ask me, my dear Marie, where I find those stories
which you love to read. Where do I find them ? Wherever
I can get them, my child ; in a song, in a cloud, in a flower.
The one I intend to dedicate to you — Henriette de Laubespine
— I plucked at Versailles, in that clump of white anemones
which bloom in your garden.

That day I had been at Chesnay, and in going through the
village at the golden hour when the setting sun empurples the
woods, my husband had bought an old fauteuil of the style of
Louis XV. of a most elegant design, the back finished with a

85 MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE [Oct.,

carved bouquet of anemones. . . . And after that, when I had
spent several hours with you, Marie — with your two mothers,
your husband, and the dear little child — and the image ever
present of Frederick Ozaneaux — everything around me
breathed of affection, devotion, passionate love of duty, and
of precious memories. It all formed a harmony, and even as
a single note is reechoed without the touching of an instru-
ment, the imagination of the story-teller spreads its wings
and is lost in the world ideal.

In that world, as through a mist, you see passing the dim
uncertain shades of other beings who have preceded us in this
life — knowing, as we know, fugitive joys and lingering sor-
rows, lyittle by little those phantoms are endowed with vi-
tality, their voices grow distinct, a light more and more vivid
discloses their features, and after that the story they whisper
to us fixes their images in our mind and endows them with a
misty immortality.

Prophets have the second sight of the future ; story-tellers
the second sight of the past. It is a gift — but do not envy it,
Marie. It is rarely accorded to youth. It is an aftermath of
autumn, like the flowers that spring up in August among the
garnered fields — like the last smile of the fading day as the
cart rattles slowly homeward.

During a period of five years Mme. Lavergne wrote only
for the distraction and amusement of her children, of the
things which interested her most. In a letter in which she
avows her intention of publication Mme. Lavergne formulates
her profession of literary faith:

I shall never write a line which I might not read to my
daughter, who is a religious, but I shall write no more for
children. It is to grown persons that I shall address myself
in future, and though a moral lesson may often be found in
my writings, I never preach and never shall.

I write to amuse, and possibly divert, people of refined
taste, and I do not intend to make my stories excuses for
sermons. I do not pose as a teacher, but on the whole I shall
strive to make my romances antidotes to those which are
fashionable at present.

I hope to make them as touching and interesting as possi-
ble. . . . And I wish that the French language could
always be as simply and purely written as I hope to write it.
I detest the involutions, the languors, and the horrors of ro-

1908.] MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE S;

mancers. I would like to be able to write like St. Luke. He
is my model. The story of 7 he Disciples of Emmaus, for in-
stance, is perfection ; and I am persuaded that the reading
of the Gospel is the best lesson in literature that can be given
to children. When persons advise me to lengthen my stories
I reply: "On the contrary, the more I retouch them, the
more I abridge them."

Once fairly launched on the sea of literature, Mme. La-
vergne's work was wonderfully prolific. Having chosen her sub-
ject and, when necessary, consulted authorities (for she was very
particular to be accurate in everything historical), she sat down
to her sketch or story and wrote, one might say, without lift-
ing her pen from paper, until her task was accomplished.
Thoughts flowed as rapidly as she could write them ; there was
no hesitation, no lagging, no searching after ideas — they were
all there, at the point of her magic pen. At the same time
she did not neglect any of her domestic duties. She writes in
one of her letters :

I never have an hour to myself, and I write like a wind-
mill— called away twenty times a day, but always taking up
the last word without the least trouble. Seated at my little
table, I forget the Republic, the devil and his train, and set
out for the land ideal. It is good for me to have some house-
hold cares ; I would write too much if I had more than three
hours a day at my disposal.

It was under the trees in her garden in Paris, that Mme.
Lavergne wrote the greater portion of her books. It was there
that she brought from the storehouse of her memory — for any-
thing once read she never forgot — those charming souvenirs of
Mme. de Lafayette, Madeline de la Vergne, Mme de Sevigne,
La Rochefaucauld, Mme. Scarron, and others that have so de-
lighted her readers. She had formulated various plans in her
mind — the portrayal of various historical events and characters
of certain types, and in the main she had completed them, when
death stayed her busy hand and brain.

Her French readers know and acknowledge the debt they
owe her, but among the English and Americans who have read
in translation innumerable sketches and stories of Mme. La-
vergne, more or less faithfully translated or adapted, few are
aware of their authorship. Enough to say, however, that no

88 MADAME JULIE LAVERGNE [Oct.

•

one ever read anything that came from her graceful, facile, and
accurate pen, without being charmed and fascinated — without
longing to make her further acquaintance.

Her writings number between twenty and thirty volumes,
comprising more than two hundred stories and narratives, many
of them quite long — little books in themselves. And each is a
gem.

In 1882 her health began to fail. In 1884 she was obliged
to submit to an operation, which gave only temporary relief to
her sufferings. In the grasp of a cruel malady she continued
to work as long as she was able, and preserved the wonderful
patience, resignation, and entire cheerfulness which had always
characterized her. During the long, sleepless nights when her
suffering was almost intolerable, she passed hours in composing
verses, which were so beautiful that there is no doubt, had
she given her attention to poetry — or one might better say
rhyming — she would have excelled in the art. In a broad sense,
every work of hers was a poem.

She died March 16, 1886, at the age of sixty-three. Her
whole life had been a consecration to the comfort, education,
and welfare of others. For others — not only her immediate
family but all who came within her sphere of love and useful-
ness— she lived and worked, giving of her substance, her time,
and her spirit to any or all who would ask or receive. And in
the midst of her practical, everyday existence there blossomed
thoughts so sweet, so pure, so holy, such flowers of poesy as
are seldom generated in the garden of this humdrum world.

There have been other story-tellers and other poets who
have delighted the world with their dreams, yet few with a
grace so modest, so persuasive, as that of this noble woman
whose books show what was the ruling spirit of her life — piety,
purity, charity — love of all things beautiful and good, replete
with sentiment the most delicate and the most ideal.

The poetry of her books but images that of her heart, the
goodness of her life, the charm of her personality, winning, se-
rene, indescribably attractive. Hers was a mission, the mem-
ory and influence of which shall long endure.

It is to be hoped that some one capable of the task, and
loving it, may give to the world an English edition of her col-
lected works. Such a one would confer a blessing on litera-
ture, religion, and the English-speaking Catholic world.

THE DIVINE FRIEND.*

BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINET.

I aaid : " Though death or life would stay me,

My thoughts pursue Thee, and adore.
If self and folly still betray me,

Towards Thee I only sigh the more.
Thou hast me captive in Thy power

When far I stray and long forget,
And when there comes the lonely hour,

Through secret tears I know Thee yet.
The flash that probes the midnight ocean

Can thrill not like one look from Thee ;
Nor Nature, in her whole bright motion,

Doth so caress and compass me ;
No dove's note in the wood-recesses,

While dark and dreams are over all,
Had ever half such tendernesses

As, deep within my soul, Thy call."

And then Thou saidst : "I love thee. listen.

Thou shalt in Me full joy regain.
Why flee away? Is doubt uprisen ?

Who else to save thee were so fain ?
I am the more than brother-hearted

Whose Name and home thou knows't. O break
Whatever bond would keep us parted,

Nor when I plead, let ' No ' awake !
Fear nothing : pledge Me faith securely :

I walk beside, unweariable.
But strain thy wing to reach Me surely,

For in Eternity I dwell."

* From the Preach of C. Oliti«r.

MONACHISM.

BY CORNELIUS CLIFFORD.

iHE feeling of Catholicism for the cenobitical life,
which it has done so much to promote in the
pursuit of its own spiritual ideals, is not an easy
thing to describe. On the one hand, there is
the sum of its transmitted teaching, supplemented
and reduced to definite practice by a sacramental system in
which both laity and pastorate meet in the historic fullness of
the Mystical Body of Christ for the work of sanctification in
every legitimate walk of life ; and, on the other, there is the
cloistered world of its " counsels " where the relatively few
seem to labor austerely apart from the many whom Baptism,
Penance, and the Eucharist, and, it might be added, Matri-
mony and Orders, too, as the case may be, have already made
holy to the Lord, Is there any real opposition — for so the
question might conceivably be put — between the sanctification
which the ordinary layman must achieve if he submits to any
least obedience of the Church at all, and the perfection which
the monk works out at such expense of spirit in the enjoined
renunciations of his often heroic Rule ?

That a difficulty of a very serious kind exists for many
honest souls in this apparent anomaly of Catholicism will scarce-
ly be denied by those who have had experience of current pre-
judices in the matter — prejudices, it might be noted, not always
restricted to the Protestant mind. Yet if Catholics have some-
times been found among that great cloud of hostile witnesses
who have looked askance upon the monastic state in every age,
their temper of mind will be discovered on analysis to be very
different from the more elusive and yet more radical mistrust
of Protestantism. They have stood out against the monk in
the concrete rather than against his more sacrosanct state.
Their opposition has been inspired by the chance urgency of
issues peculiar to their own eccentric personality or local to
their immediate environment. They have been scandalized by
his tonsure, forsooth ; they have been irritated by the cut
or color of his garment ; they have mourned over the novel

1908.] MO N A CHIS M 91

accent of his psalmody. If they have sometimes found quarrel
in straws more considerable than these, again, it has been the
man rather than the ideal that has given substance to their
grief. They have resented the spiritual disturbance in the ac-
cepted order of things which the monk's advent seems inevi-
tably to involve, whether he fix his abode in a wilderness or
in a populous town ; they have felt obliged to withstand him
because of certain supposed encroachments on long- established
custom or right ; they have denounced him, Gospel-creature
that he is, and pledged by the soul, if not by the letter, of
his Rule to all the higher obediences of Catholicism, with re-
sistance to episcopal authority, and Paul has been sometimes
flouted out of humor, that Peter, possibly by way of time's re-
venges, might all the more abound. The graver attacks of
which he has been the object at various critical periods of ec-
clesiastical reform, as in the lampoons of the orthodox Mid-
dle Age, or in the unfriendly legislation of certain remote
synods, have really tended to emphasize the religious value of
the ideals aimed at in his vows; and few, even among the Gallic
and Spanish bishops who accused him of a Manichaean bias
while he was struggling for recognition in the West during the
harassed years of the fifth century, ever seriously thought of
challenging his claim to embody, in the substance of his pro-
fession, at least, nearly all that was noblest and most difficult
in evangelical teaching.

Nor can the case of Cardinal Manning in our own times be
said to furnish a more classic instance of mistrust that points
vaguely the other way. Manning's contention, as we know
now, was for the inherent holiness of the priestly state as such.
For him the sanctity of Orders was indissolubly bound up with
the sanctity of the Eucharist. His quarrel was not with mona-
chism ; but with secularism. He denounced the false standards
and the essentially un-Tridentine point of view which could
look upon the Christian priesthood as belonging in any true
sense even to that portion of the world which essays to live
on easy terms with the Church. The instinct which led him to
protest against the curiously inappropriate term by which the
diocesan clergy are distinguished from their religious fellows
who live under vows was neither as unsound nor as quixotic
as some have too hastily supposed. No priest could rightly
be called secular, the great churchman seemed to argue in effect,
who came forth from God with the election of Apostolicity

92 MONACHISM [Oct.,

upon him and the mark of our Lord's own priesthood stamped
indelibly upon his soul. Such a man belonged to the Church ;
he belonged to his bishop and to the faithful to whom his
bishop sent him to minister; he could not belong to the world;
and it was only by a pedantic and most uncatholic perver-
sion of technicalities that the obediences of such a life could
be accounted less precious in the sight of heaven than the
monk's, seeing that they were so radically sacramentalized by
the mystery of its Orders, and set irretrievably apart for ser-
vice in a series of self-immolations that could hardly be dis-
tinguished on analysis from so many vows. Whether the Car-
dinal's expression of his views was always above criticism is a
matter which need not greatly worry us now ; but so far was
he from being out of sympathy with the deeper instincts of
Catholicism on this score that he might easily have been ac-
cused of confounding in practice the responsibilities of an
archbishop with those of a superior in a religious order. In
spite of his noble bias for ideals, he was a great stickler for
diocesan statutes and rules.

Now it is this very idea of Rule, with its twin notion of
aloofness, as implying a hard and somewhat too supra-hu-
man reading of the Gospel message, which has furnished the
inspiration of much that has been written on the subject of
monachism by the better- informed modern mind. That there
is, on the whole, a lack of sympathy between that mind and
the more conservative exponents of Catholic opinion in these
days, hardly needs proving at the present stage of our argu-
ment ; and it ought scarcely to be matter for surprise that the
monk should be called upon to bear a portion of the general
misunderstanding consequent on this overcast condition of things.
It is not so much that he has become an inconvenient and
most tell-tale anachronism in a generation which is determined
at all hazards to let the dead past bury its dead ; it is rather
because he is discovered to be a scandal and a portent in a
sense that has little to do with those private Corals of his
which were once fondly alleged to supply the disedifying data
wherewith he could be pelted out of the society of decent Evan-
gelical folk in the old plain-spoken and undiscriminating days.
If the claim which his apologists have invariably made for him,
and the position which he has come to occupy in Catholicism
after fourteen centuries of development, be any sure index of
his religious value to the Church of which he now forms more

1 908. ] MONA CHISM 93

than an integral part, then we Catholics are driven upon the
horns of this most uncatholic, most cruel dilemma: either that
the best of our Lord's religion was not offered to the multi-
tudes in the beginning; or that the communities calling them-
selves Evangelical and Protestant during the past three hun-
dred years have entered with a surer instinct into the real
secret of the Gospel than the old historic body that calls itself
Roman and magisterial and hierarchical.

Is a monk, however sincere or self-denying his daily obedi-
ence to his Rule may be, the highest type of character that
Christ has to offer to mankind? Are we all called to be celi-
bates ? And must we, as the condition of sharing, supremely
and without any thought of after-rapine, the mystery and
holocaust of that Life, surrender, not the ties of kinship and
country merely, but our own rights and responsibilities of sex,
and our powers of individual initiative as well. Must we,
indeed, hand ourselves over unreservedly to the keeping of a
Rule as interpreted by a mortal endowed with no special
charisma of infallibility, if we wish to find Christ as uniquely,
say, as a man is thought to find his own soul in the unstint-
ing self- dedications of honorable conjugal love? That is how
the difficulty formulates itself to-day to the more educated
Evangelical mind. No doubt there is a sense in which it may
be said to betray a monotonous and too familiar note. The
objection is not new, as the jaded student of an ti- monastic
literature only too well knows. What is new, however, is the
controversial courtesy — or shall we call it charitableness ? —
which waves the old irrelevant and sweeping charges about
monkish degeneracy and fastens its attention upon what is of
good report in the institution itself. Not for his hypocrisies
and misdemeanors, but for his very virtues and often heroisms
is the monk to be condemned. His religion may be good
Stoicism or good Manichseism ; but it is not aboriginal Catho-
licity, and most certainly it is not the ideal set before us in
the New Testament.

Such in substance is the view taken by Professor Harnack
in that most popular, yet most seriously analytical, of his minor
historical studies, the lecture known to us as Das Monchtum,
in which the genius of Latin Christianity is boldly inter-
preted in the light of its own consistent treatment of the re-
ligious orders. "If we ask either the Roman or the Greek
Church," he writes, "wherein the most perfect Christian life

94 MONACHISM [Oct.,

consists, both alike reply: In the service of God, to the abne-
gation of all the good things of this life— property, marriage,
personal will, and honor; in a word, in the religious renuncia-
tion of the world; that is, in monasticism. The true monk is
the true and most perfect Christian. "*

With Professor Harnack's theories on the extraordinary
and diversified development of Latin, as contrasted with Greek
or Oriental, monasticism, we have no immediate concern in the
present article. His positions are in many respects helpful
and stimulating in what they affirm; though often enough
misleading, or worse, in what they ignore. If his reading of
events is wide and profound, if his sense of causality is sure,
his outlook, we feel, is slightly vitiated by the jaundiced eye
of the Evangelical. This man, in spite of his great weight of
learning, is an apriorist. He sees, moreover, too many things,
Latin, ecclesiastical, and especially Papal, from the peculiar angle
of Berlin ; and he is entirely out of sympathy with what may
be called the Catholic or full-orbed aspect of history. His con-
tention that " the true monk is the true and most perfect Chris-
tian," is one that no Catholic, Latin or Greek, we imagine, will
be disposed to quarrel with. It is true as far as it goes. Re-
membering the unsavory, not to say ungenerous, connotations
which have been added to the word monk in past controver-
sies, however, some of us might prefer to state the truism in
more abstract terms.

Charity, as distinguished from the unlovely thing that we
call Pharisaism, is the true note of the Gospel. It is the bur-
den of our Lord's religion ; His persona] note, so to say. It
is also the theme of St. Paul's theology, the under-song of St.
John's divine iteration of "the things that his eyes had seen
and his hands touched," the very Alpha and Omega of the
Word of Life. And what Scripture so unmistakably affirms,
Catholicism reaffirms. For on its loftier and more affirmative
side it has ever claimed to be Scripture and history in one.
The charitable life has always been the goal of its effort, even
of its political and secular effort, scandalous as the saying may
seem ; and in the writings of its saints, and more especially in
the various machinery it has employed throughout the centu-
ries to emphasize the note of her children's saintship and give
it canonicity as it were, it has taught the self-same lesson.

* Monasticism : Its Ideals and History. [Kellett & Marseille's translation.] London :
Williams & Norgate, 1901, p. 10.

1908.] MONACHISM 95

From the very beginning the "way of the counsels" has been
set, if not over against, at least above, far above, the "way of
the commandments.1' If the story of the " rich young man "
proves anything, it proves that. Indeed, one might safely say
that, in practice, Catholicism has staked much, if not all, on
that incident, and discovered in it a way of life which is be-
yond life. And of what other religion of the West, claiming
to be Evangelical or Catholic or historic, can so glorious a
boast be uttered ? There is, then, a religion of the command-
ments; and there is also religion of the vows; and the New
Testament in its fullness furnishes both the philosophy and the
instance upon which the hard dichotomy stands.

Nor can it be objected that an argument of this character
presupposes altogether the essential validity of the traditional
or Catholic view of our Lord's consciousness of His divine
Personality and of His divine mission. Even if we take the very
small nucleus,* of authentic "doctrine" that Professor Hainack
and his school will allow us, there will still be a remarkable
group f of "sayings" which will be intelligible on no other
hypothesis than that implied in the old-fashioned Catholic dis-
tinction between the few who aspire to "perfection" through
the graces of intimate discipleship by a complete renunciation
of the good things of the world, and the " many " who are
content to inherit "eternal life" by a sincere, but not essen-
tially heroic obedience to the "commandments." One may
decline with Professor Harnack, if he will, to describe either of
these admitted alternatives as proofs of a "message of world-
denial" preached by our Lord to His hearers; but they em-
body none the less two very different varieties of "followers,"
to each of which the kingdom of heaven is open under certain
conditions of self-abnegation. Whether we are to discover the
vestiges of a true askesis in so broadly graduated a scale of
religious character, would seem to be a negligible issue. The
point that matters most is that we have here two unmistakable
presentments of just that portion of our Lord's teaching which
the professor concedes to be "of permanent validity"; and it
coincides appositely enough — in the sense, at least, that we
have claimed — with the traditional grounds for the Church's
encouragement of the monastic ideal, early and late, in her
various contact with an unheroic world.

It would, surely, be too large — not to say, too unfair — a

* Das Wesen des Christentums, s. 8 ; ss. 50-56. t v. g. Luke xviii. 18, etc.

96 MONACHISM [Oct.,

contention to hazard, however, were one to suggest, as the
Berlin professor and certain writers of the extremer Evangeli-
cal wing seem disposed from time to time to maintain, that the
" perfection " towards which the monk struggles up, through
the elaborate and wearing discipline of his daily Rule, were, in
the Catholic view of it, a thing to be sought nowhere else but
in the cloister. The Latin Church has never countenanced any
such narrowing doctrine ; as witness, for instance, her immiti-
gable claim about the " perfection " of the episcopate and the
sacramental holiness which she has invariably attached to her
conception of the priesthood. St. Thomas, whose explanation
of this often obscured point will scarcely be open to the charge
of seeking covertly to rebuke the undoubted prejudices, so to
call them, of every good Catholic for the heroisms of the clois-
ter, has outlined the whole matter for us in a series of arti-
cles* in his incomparable Summat\\\ which the least analytical
mind, Lutheran, Evangelical, or crudely Anglo-Saxon, will be
enabled to apprehend as in a kind of inchoate Porphyrian tree,
what may be called a true hierarchy of Catholic notions on the
subject. Charity, or the love of God for His own sake and of
all mankind for God's sake, is, he tells us, in effect, the su-
preme goal of the "perfect life." To love with a supreme
love God, our Father, whom we do not see, and to devote our-
selves unselfishly to His children, whom we do see, that, in
the intention of our Lord, ought to be the master end of all
Christian endeavor. Everything else is a question of means.
Even the "counsels" themselves are but certain obvious in-
struments indicated in the New Testament for the realization-
of this highest of prepossessions; and we must be careful not
to think of them as ends in themselves. f

These "counsels" are, in the ordinary providence of Christ,
and so far as the "perfection of the religious state" is con-
cerned— a phrase not quite convertible, be it observed, with
that other phrase, the religion of the perfect state — poverty,
or the renunciation of one's rights and hopes in the matter of
earthly goods; chastity, or the renunciation of one's rights and
hopes in the more difficult business of wedded love; and obe-
dience, or the renunciation of one's proper will for the sake of

* 2a 2ae, QQ. 184-188.

t Per se, quidem, et essentialiter consistit perfectio Christianae vitse in charitate. . .
Secundario, autem, et instrumentaliter, perfectio consistit in consiliis : etc. aa 2X, 184, 5
in corp. art.

1908.] MONACHISM 97

Christ, who did not His own will, but shaped His course through
every day of His hard human life in obedience to the behests
of His Father. These are the appointed instruments of the
higher evangelicalism of the cloister according to St. Thomas;
and it is from their habitual and confluent efficiency in the
inner life of the heart, especially when panoplied by a minute
discipline and made still more holy and lasting by dedicated
vows, that the monk furnishes the best guarantee to his own
conscience and to the Church at large that he is walking in
the more excellent way. That there are other ways, indeed,
more perilous, if you will, not so carefully charted but true
ways, none the less, the saint distinctly affirms when he tells
us * that there is no anomaly in finding perfect souls outside
of the state of perfection ; just as there is none in meeting
with the imperfect within its borders. He is dealing with estates
and conditions of men on their permanently visible and objec-
tive side ; with the machinery, ecclesiastical, cenobitical, or
quasi-secular, by which our Lord's followers habitually seek
entrance into the kingdom of heaven through the doorways of
this world. He is not discussing the spiritual worth of the
individual will, or the ultimate value that God sets upon the
secret sacrifices of the heart. His point of view is, if we may
so style it, a purely human or critical one: secundum ea qua
exterius aguntur . . . sic nunc de statibus loquimur, he
writes. Pope, or bishop, or priest, solitary, or friar, or nun,
devout secular or unabashed worlding, we are what we are, in
the last resource, as the divine eyes behold us. Our several
" states " may help or hinder ; they cannot save or damn us,
when all is said and done.

These considerations ought to help one to formulate, at
least in outline, something like a real metaphysic for that un-
grudging cult which Catholicism has paid to the monk from
the beginning. Like the undying priesthood to which he is
linked to-day in a score of ways, he is more than a symbol;
he is an instrument, an institution, a spirit made palpable,
whose victories only the purest and most robust faith in our
Lord's Incarnation can hope adequately to understand. That
is why, in spite of the comparatively meager bulk of scandal
in his otherwise inspiring history, it has ever been a note of

* Et ideo nihil prohibet, aliquos esse perfectos, qui non sunt in statu perfectionis, et
aliquos esse in statu perfectionis, qui tamen non sunt perf ecti. aa ase, 184, 4 in corp. att. '•

VOL. LXXXVIII. — 7

98 MONACH1SM [Oct.

orthodoxy to think well of him and, what is often difficult
enough in the inevitable clash of supernatural interests in a
misjudging world, live well with him, for the true peace of the
Church. Of the theology of his vows this is not the place to
speak. The details of these grave and intricate matters may
safely be left to the canonist; but, surely, their essential de-
cency— or should we not say sanctity, rather ? — can give no
offence to the God-fearing. St. Ignatius of Loyola laid his
finger on a deep truth when he reminded the men of the six-
teenth century that the habit of speaking well of a monk's
vows engendered in the soul a kind of noble loyalty towards
the hierarchic Church. And the argument that inspired that
fine utterance is not less profound for being so magnifi-
cently, so humanly, simple and everyday-like. Vows clothe
us with a divine seriousness; they purge us of futility and
prove to our halting wills that God and His Godhead are,
indeed, all in all. Why, then, should we, especially when they
are to be pronounced under due safeguards, start at the thought
of them, or, through a spurious reverence, which may turn out
on analysis to be Pelagianism after all, speak as though a nig-
gardly and cheese- paring will were the best offering to make
to Him whose every word and gift are alike without repent-
ance? The lover's oath, the bridegroom's troth, the friend's
serene assurance of his unchangeableness — are these things not
parables in their order of a loyalty which bravely reaches up
to God in a very human way and proves itself of one mind
with what we know now to have been the " mind of Christ
Jesus Himselt " ? Why should the monk's conscience, then, be
thought to be of sorrier fiber for trusting so unselfishly to in-
stincts which the sense of healthy human nature has approved
in every age, and which the fellowship of saints has twice blessed
as being big with Scriptural promises that give them almost a
Sacramental grace ?

If this represents, however crudely, the true theory and
sense of the cenobitical life as Catholicism has fostered it
throughout its long life-story, it ought not to be difficult to
see how in its manifold development through the centuries a
fresh note and evidence have been created, so to speak, which
prove it to be of one piece with the Way which leads back
through Christ to God.

Seton Hall, South Orange, N. J.

Bew Boohs.

The second and third volumes of

THE CATHOLIC ENCYCLO- the Catholic Encyclopedia* are
PEDIA. Of a quality to sustain the expec-

tation created by the first, that the

work when completed will be a valuable asset of the Church
throughout the English-speaking world. The unexpected ra-
pidity with which these three have followed one another offers
the pleasing prospect that we shall have the entire series at
our service within a much shorter period than was usually as-
signed to the undertaking.

The recent volumes, on the whole, are, in point of scholar-
ship, on the high level set by the first. They improve upon
it in respect to the conformity of the contents to the professed
scope of the work. A more systematic selection of subjects,
and a juster appreciation of their claims, has prevented the
appearance of any articles on extraneous matters. No topics,
generally speaking, have been assigned more than their fair
share of space. This is especially apparent in the biblical de-
partment, where the first volume sometimes assumed the char-
acter of a Biblical Dictionary, by dwelling in extenso on names
and things that have but little bearing on the constitution,
doctrine, discipline, or history of the Catholic Church.

In these volumes, however, biblical matters of moment have
received due attention; one of the most interesting articles is
that on Biblical Chronology.

Among the many fine articles which appear in these volumes,
it would be invidious to single out a list for special commenda-
tion; and there is no single one standing out in pride of place
above its fellows. Guided rather by the interest of the subject
than by any comparison of the merit of the writers, one might
mention a few of the more prominent. They are : Athanasius ;
Augustine; Benedictines; Babylonia; Assyria; Buddhism; Cal-
vin, and Calvinism ; and some of the group under the caption,
Byzantine. Among the philosophical articles we have Cause;

* The Catholic Encyclopedia. An International Work of Reference on the Constitution,
Doctrine, Discipline, and History of the Catholic Church. Edited by Chas. G. Herbermann,
Ph.D.; Ed. A. Pace, Ph.D.,D.D.; Conde" B. Fallen, Ph.D.; Thomas J. Shahan, D.D.; John
J. Wynne, S.J. Assisted by numerous collaborators. In Fifteen Volumes. Vol. II., Assize-
Bro; Vol. III., Brow-Clancy.

IOO

NEW BOOKS

[Oct.,

Certitude; Association of Ideas; Categorical Imperative; and
an excellent brief one on Biology. We venture to add a com-
mendatory note to this one, because we must say that another
from the same pen on the important question of Biogenesis is
very imperfect, inasmuch as it contains no appreciation of the
history of the question.

The information supplied concerning countries, cities, and
towns of ecclesiastical importance is remarkably full, both on
what regards the past, and the actual religious conditions.
Of this class, China might be cited as a splendid specimen. The
article on the Calendar places a great deal of technical, useful
information within the grasp of the popular reader. Another
from the same learned pen, on Celibacy prompts a regret that
the writer has not composed a refutation such as he could give
us of the baneful work of Dr. Lea on that subject. Among
the hagiological biographies that of St. Charles Borromeo is of
conspicuous excellence.

A few more articles, which for one reason or another have
suggested the taking of a note or two as one perused them,
may be referred to. The name of Las Casas has fared very
badly at the hands of his biographer, who passes a decidedly
depreciatory judgment on the man and his achievements. In-
deed the writer roundly asserts that Las Casas did nothing to
deserve the title of " Apostle of the Indies/' which posterity
has conferred upon him. We have a strong picture of a vio-
lent, self-willed visionary, a truculent agitator, unjust towards
his opponents and ungrateful towards his friends. A man who,
having failed egregiously everywhere, grew more rancorous with
advancing age, and used his pen to perpetuate, after his death,
his unjust judgments and pernicious activity. Is not this a
too severe arraignment of the man who, with many faults, is
the one to whom we must point when Catholicism is re-
proached for the merciless and cruel treatment meted out to
the Indians by Spanish conquistadors, adventurers, and their
descendants ?

Speaking of Spanish cruelty recalls the article on Bullfights.
It is marred by a misplaced, feeble attempt to absolve the
sport from the charge of cruelty. The reason for this charge
is, says the writer, " utter ignorance of a game in which man
with his reason and dexterity overcomes the brutal strength
and ferocity of the bull." " Foreigners, as a rule," continues

i9o8.] NEW BOOKS 101

the writer, " think that the Spanish populace go to the bull-
fight to witness the shedding of human blood. This is false.
Generally there are no casualties ; and when an accident oc-
curs no one derives any pleasure from it; on the contrary, all
deplore it." "The sport," triumphantly concludes the writer,
" is less brutal than prize-fighting; and, unlike the modern the-
ater, does not stir up anti-social or immoral passions." Not a
word about the goading and torturing of the bull with barbed
darts! Not a word about the wretched "old and otherwise
incapacitated horses " that are gored by the bull till their en-
trails fall out ! The tenor of this defence is an eloquent argu-
ment to prove that some Spanish minds possess no idea corre-
sponding to that which we express by the term cruelty to
animals.

Owing to the peculiar scope of their work, and the lack of
any precedents, it must be a continual problem for the au-
thors to decide on what is to be admitted and what excluded.
One sees evidence here and there of the omission of what seems
to us an important subject. For example, if Betting and
Bankruptcy receive recognition, why not the equally live ques-
tion of Boycott? Brown — to illustrate from another depart-
ment— Bedford, and Cavanagh were fighting men whose claim
to a place here rests purely on the fact that they were Cath-
olics. Why, then, omit Sir William Butler? "But they are
dead ! " Yet many living people are included.

The host of small biographical notices, if it is open to criti-
cism at all, is so because it is too large. Yet there are some
strange omissions; for example — Shades of Chivalry! — Bayard,
the knight without fear and without reproach. Then, too, it
seems the irony of fate that the prince of booklovers and col-
lectors, Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, Chancellor of Eng-
land, author of the Philobiblion, is left out. The name of
Cauchon ought to have been recorded in order to dissociate
the Catholic Church from the infamy that clings to his memory.

A question that might be worth the consideration of the
editorial board is whether there are not too many biographical
notices of obscure and insignificant persons, whose names will
never be of any interest except to the scholar, or the student
engaged in historical research — and he will have other resources
than the Encyclopedia. The space that might be saved in this
direction could be usefully employed in another, where the En-

102 j NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

cyclopedia is weak. That weakness is in the matter of places
and persons that have been concerned in events in modern his-
tory which have had a grave bearing on the interests of Catho-
lics and Catholicism even up to our own day. The Encyclo-
pedia will be consulted for the correct history of these mat-
ters by both Catholics and outsiders. For example, though
the insignificant little town of Athenry is noticed, because of
its ancient ecclesiastical importance, Aughrim is passed over.
Yet the battle of Aughrim served to bring about the reign of
the penal laws in Ireland. Again, Charlemagne, Charles Martel,
and Charles V. rightly receive long notices. But there is noth-
ing about Charles II. of England, around whose name clusters
a number of points intensely interesting to English-speaking
Catholics.

Four names renowned in literature have been fortunate in
the assignments made for them — Chaucer, Cervantes, Calderon,
and Bossuet. The last mentioned is one of the best written in
the volume ; though, singularly enough, it fails to refer to that
episode in Bossuet's career which has the most vital interest
for the intellectual world to-day. There is a touch ot pathos
in the fact that the next volume records the death of the bril-
liant author of this article — Brunetiere. The carefully composed
article on Betrothals, which is already out of date, is an elo-
quent warning of how quickly the most carefully prepared en-
cyclopedia may become obsolete in some respects. We cannot
take leave of these two volumes without mentioning two arti-
cles on account of the special importance of the subjects and
of the special merit of the treatment. The one is on the Church,
which is a model of lucidity and condensation. The other is
that on Charity and Chanties, which presents an admirable state-
ment of the Catholic principle of benevolence and its develop-
ment throughout the ages. THE CATHOLIC WORLD sincerely
congratulates the management of the Encyclopedia on the qual-
ity of its work and hopes soon to welcome another volume.

The name of McLoughlin is as

THE FATHER OF OREGON, closely associated with the rise of

the State of Oregon as are the

names of Boone and Houston with the States of Texas and
Kentucky. During the Lewis and Clark Exposition, in 1905, a
day was set apart as "McLoughlin Day" to honor a memory

1908.] NEW BOOKS 103

which deserves to be preserved as that of a noble man who
has merited all the praise, though it is somewhat rhetorically
expressed, lavished on him by his biographer : *

Like many others of the world's great men, Dr. John Mc-
I/oughlin had many characteristics, apparently conflicting,
but making in the aggregate a wonderful and harmonious
whole. He was the autocrat of the early Oregon country, yet
all his feelings and political sympathies were for a republican
form of government, for rule by the people, and for personal
liberty ; he was a trader with the training of a trader, yet he
gave credit without security to the early pioneers, because he
was a humanitarian ; he was quick-tempered and impulsive,
yet he was courteous and kind ; a strict disciplinarian, yet he
had a sympathy like that of a woman and a heart as tender
and susceptible as that of a little child.

As his name indicates, McLoughlin, born in 1784, was of
Irish blood. His father settled in Canada and married a daugh-
ter of Malcom Fraser, an officer in the famous Scotch Fraser
regiment. Both parents were Catholics, and their son was
brought up in their faith. That he drifted from it in the course
of his active life is evident from the fact that, prior to 1842,
when he was governor of Fort Vancouver, it was his custom to
read the services of the Church of England on Sundays to a
congregation of officers and employees. About 1842, however,
a copy of Milner's End of Controversy fell into his hands, with
the result that, although no step could have been more im-
politic at the time from a worldly point of view, he returned
to the faith of his baptism. McLoughlin's first association with
Oregon took place when in 1824, as a factor of the Hudson
Bay Company, he arrived at Fort Vancouver as its chief super-
intendent or governor. Immediately he began to display in
his dealings with the motley population, rival traders, white
adventurers, hostile and friendly Indians, the qualities of a
leader of men, whose dominant motive was the welfare of all
who fell within his sphere of influence.

When he first came to Oregon it was not safe for the com-
pany's parties to travel except in parties heavily armed. In

* Dr. John McLtughlin, the Father of Oregon. By Frederick V. Holman, Director of the
Oregon Pioneer Association and of the Oregon Historical Society. Cleyeland, Ohio : The
A. H. Clark Publishing Company.

io4 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

a few years there was practically no danger. A single boat
loaded with goods or furs was as safe as a great flotilla had
been when he arrived on the Columbia River in 1824. It was
Dr. John Mcl/oughlin who did this by his personality, by his
example, and by his influence.

When McLoughlin came to Oregon the country was, in
virtue of the Conventions of 1818 and 1827, under the joint
occupancy of the United States and Great Britain. About 1840,
however, there began a steady movement of Americans towards
it. This influx of Americans was viewed with disfavor by the
British officials and occupants. The Indians, too, were intensely
hostile to the " Bostons," as they called the American immi-
grants. But McLoughlin used all his power to see that the
newcomers were not molested ; and, besides, he actively assisted
many of them by lending or bestowing on them necessaries
and supplies, without which they would have perished. When
the anti-American feeling had become acute, McLoughlin was
accused before the Company and the British Government of favor-
ing the American invasion. He repudiated the charge, declar-
ing that he had acted solely from the dictates of humanity.
When his superiors issued orders that he should cease to assist
the immigrants, his answer was that he would serve them no
longer — and he resigned his post with its salary of twelve
thousand dollars a year.

Meanwhile there had arisen the question of McLoughlin's
land claim, a question which, unfortunately, besides developing
deplorable religious bigotry, illustrates the unscrupulous methods
by which American adventures, through the help of Congress,
have, in numerous cases, cheated and robbed the owners of
lands whose titles antedated the establishment of American
sovereignty. About 1829, McLoughlin took up a land claim
according to the established forms of the settlement at the
time. Some Methodist ministers, in 1840, disputed McLoughlin's
claim.

The Methodist Mission, as a mission, did not officially at-
tempt to deprive Dr. McLoughlin of any of his land. There
were some of the missionaries who opposed any such action.
But others of them said that if the mission obtained any of
Mclaughlin's land claim, it would belong to the mission or
the church ; so they readily proceeded, as individuals, for
their own private gain.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 105

Legal proceedings were begun, characterized by misrepre-
sentations, falsification of documents, charges that McLoughlin
was a British subject, after he had declared his intention of
becoming an American citizen, and all kinds of legal chicanery.
Legislation was enacted whose direct purpose was to wipe out
McLoughlin's claim. The matter dragged on with varying suc-
cess until 1849, when Governor Lane took possession of the
territory for the United States. In 1850 Congress passed the
Oregon Donation Law, granting to every adult American, on
condition of occupancy, one thousand acres of Oregon land ;
and McLoughlin's land was declared to be public property.
A chief figure in the promotion of this bill was one Thurston,
a member of the House of Representatives. His methods and
character may be understood from a brief quotation from one
of his congressional speeches: "This company (Hudson Bay
Company) has been warring against our government for forty
years. Dr. McLoughlin has been their chief fugleman, first to
cheat our government out of the whole country, and next to
prevent its settlement. He has driven men from claims and
from the country, to stifle efforts at settlement." Yet it was
proven on indisputable evidence that McLoughlin's generosity
towards a great number of Americans, including the Methodist
missions, had been princely. The Donation Act, passed through
Thurston's influence, was received with great satisfaction, and
Thurston was regarded as a hero; for, as the biographer re-
marks, man is selfish, and this law converted every settler's
squatter title into a legal title, except McLoughlin's — " Every
settler except Dr. McLoughlin could now have his land claim
for which he had waited so long. A great university was to
be built, without cost to any one except to Dr. McLoughlin
and his heirs." Later on, however, the public changed its
verdict and admitted both the injustice with which McLoughlin
had been treated and the claims of McLaughlin to public
gratitude. It is pleasing to find that, in 1862, the Legislative
Assembly of the State of Oregon passed a bill restoring the
greater part of McLoughlin's lands to his legal heirs.

This biography is not, perhaps, a fine specimen of smooth
or systematic narration; and it makes no pretention to literary
finish. But it possesses the first quality of a biography — it
places the living man before us, just as he must have appeared
to those who knew him. And Mr. Holman's enthusiasm for

106 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

•

his hero, as well as his severe condemnation of the doctor's
enemies, are beyond the suspicion of being colored by relig-
ious prejudice; for he is not a Catholic. He says:

All my ancestors have been Protestants. I was brought up
under the auspices of the Old School Presbyterian Church,
of which my parents were members from my earliest child-
hood until their death at an advanced age. I have never been
a member of any church, but my feelings and sympathies are
Protestant.

Worn out by a long persecution of " robbery, mendacity,
and ingratitude," Dr. McLoughlin died as a good Catholic dies,
in 1857, and was buried in the churchyard of the Catholic
Church in Oregon City. He deserves to be enrolled among
our distinguished Americans, and can claim the higher honor
of being remembered as a strong, noble, Christian man. We
may close this somewhat lengthy notice of this interesting bi-
ography by quoting a suggestion of the author which is nota-
ble rather for his naivete and feeling than for its practical
character :

Under the canons of the Roman Catholic Church no one
can be canonized until he or she has been dead at least fifty
years. If I may do so with propriety, I suggest that when
the fifty years have passed, those in proper authority in that
Church cause Dr. John McL,oughlin to be canonized if it be
possible to do so. But the people of Oregon as a people are
not bound by this canon. Already the memory of this grand
old man is enshrined in their hearts. To them he is now the
patron saint of Oregon, without regard to canon or rules, re-
ligion or sect.

The biography of Poe,* written by
EDGAR ALLAN POE. Mr. John Macy for the " Beacon

Series," is true to the aim of that

collection, which is "to furnish a series of brief, readable, arid
authoritative accounts of the lives of those Americans who have
impressed their personality most deeply on the history of their
country or the character of their countrymen.'* Brief enough
it is; for it is packed into one hundred small pages. Yet
it contains everything that the busy man or woman wants to
know about the author of "The Raven" and "The Bells."
From the preface the reader may gather that he is going to

* Edgar Allan Poe. By John Macy. Boston : Small, Maynard & Co,

igoS.] NEW BOOKS 107

be spared any long-drawn disquisitions on the private character
of Poe, and that he will not be vexed with any tedious indi-
cations that Mr. Macy holds a brief on one side or the other,
in the long-standing literary suit of Virginia versus New Eng-
land. "Poe," he remarks, "paid a posthumous penalty for his
sins by furnishing a moral issue in biography over which there
is, even to this day, unprofitable conflict." And he somewhat
sarcastically accuses New England with attempting to discredit
the rival of her own poetical lights by asking whether a bad
man can be a good poet. "But," to this attitude Mr. Macy
replies, " if the starker ethical theories will not retreat from
biography, certainly geographical considerations may be per-
suaded to do so."

The present biographer offers no new information on the
poet and his works; and it is not very probable that anything
of importance concerning Poe will see the light till the papers
of John P. Kennedy, Poe's benefactor, which by Kennedy's will
are sealed till 1920, shall be made public. One letter of Poe's
is given which is not to be found in earlier biographies, as it
was first published only five years ago. It was written to
Colonel Thayer, the Superintendent of the Academy, a few days
after Poe's dismissal from West Point : " Having no longer any
tie which binds me to my native country — no prospects nor
any friends — I intend by the first opportunity to proceed to
Paris, with the view of obtaining, through the interest of the
Marquis de la Fayette, an appointment, if possible, in the
Polish army." A certificate of standing in his class was, Poe
said very correctly, all that he had any right to expect.

Mr. Macy dissents from the view common to Poe's admirers,
which presents him as a brilliant youth going gradually down
to ruin and an early death: "We more fairly discern him as
plunged by ill- luck and faults of temper into a bad hole at the
beginning of his manhood, and fighting his way out of it, with
considerable pluck, towards renewed social recognition and suc-
cessful industry." Poe, he believes, had fallen, in 1831 and 1832,
as low as he ever did in fortune and habits.

The book contains some brief occasional criticisms on Poe's
work which are worth reading. Too much importance is at-
tached to the metaphysical essay " Eureka," which is very crude
metaphysics indeed, and depends for its value much more on
the beauty of its language than on its philosophy. The mys-

io8 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

tery that hangs over the poet's doings in the last days of his
life Mr. Macy does not attempt to solve :

He took steamer from Richmond the last of September.
The possibility that he had money may account for the dis-
aster in Baltimore. On October 3 he was found in one of the
ward polls by a printer who wrote to Dr. E. J. Snodgrass
that Poe was "the worse for wear," and " in need of imme-
diate assistance." He may have been robbed — all trace of
his baggage had been lost — or he may have come to the end
of his strength or suffered from exposure after drinking. It
may be that he was a victim of the political habit of the
time to " coop " strangers on the eve of election, drug them,
and then send them obediently dazed to the polls to vote.
If he was thus treated his captors had tampered with a deli-
cate subject, a body at the end of its slender power to resist
drugs. He was taken to the Washington Hospital in Balti-
more, and there died on Sunday, the yth of October, 1849.

Mr. Macy recounts with an even pen, nothing extenuating
nor aught setting down in malice, this story, in which pathos,
glory, and sordid vice, brilliant intellectual gifts and mean, as
well as grave, moral weakness are so tragically mingled.

The substance of this somewhat

FREEMASONRY. bulky volume* has already ap-

peared in the author's magazine.

A more liberal exercise of compression, pruning, and elimina-
tion would have made the book more compact and, therefore,
more readable. Mr. Preuss draws up an indictment, not against
freemasonry in general, but against American freemasonry in
particular. He challenges its claim to be essentially different
from the atheistical, anti-religious freemasonry of France and
Italy. There are, so his thesis runs, masons who, because they
have never reached the arcanum of the brotherhood, see in the
organization but a means for furthering good fellowship and
fraternal charity — parrot masons, knife-and-fork masons — who
are only adepts in the exoteric. There is, however, despite
the honest assertions of such men, an esoteric masonry, to which
only the elect are admitted, which has for its sole object the
subversion of Christian faith and Christian morals. The exis-

* A Study in American Freemasonry. Edited by Arthur Preuss, Editor of the Catholic
Fortnightly Review. St. Louis : B. Herder.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 109

tence of this distinction in the bosom of masonry Mr. Preuss
establishes by quotations from an eminent masonic notable, Dr.
Mackey, author of a work on freemasonry of recognized au-
thority among the brethren. Dr. Mackey says :

A mason who commits to memory the questions and an-
swers of the catechetical lectures, and the formulas of the
ritual, but pays no attention to the history and philosophy of
the institution, is commonly called a parrot mason, because
he is supposed to repeat what he has learned without any
conception of its true meaning. In former times such super-
ficial masons were held by many in high repute, because of
the facility with which they passed through the ceremonies
of a reception, and they were generally designated as " bright
masons." But the progress of masonry as a science now re-
quires something more than a mere knowledge of the lectures
to constitute a masonic scholar.

On this passage, combined with some others, Mr. Preuss
comments as follows :

A parrot mason is, therefore, one of the exoteric brethren,
never of the esoteric. He is talkative, they are secretive.
He is ready to tell us all about masonry, all that he knows,
so he says ; and we are willing to believe him sincere. Per-
haps like the bird, his namesake, he is proud of his knowl-
edge, and is ever ready to display it. But, like a parrot, he
is merely repeating what he has heard " without any concep-
tion of its true meaning " ; he is the possessor of exoteric,
not of esoteric knowledge ; the heart, the inner mysteries of
masonry, are shrouded from his eyes. Dr. Mackey waxes
indignant that such brethren should be satisfied with the
shell and not feast on the kernel.

Elsewhere Mr. Preuss quotes another eminent masonic au-
thority, Albert Pike, as stating that the esoteric fraternity de-
ceive their brothers of the outer circle to make the latter be-
lieve that they have the key to the secret of the masonic sym-
bolism, while, in fact, they are entirely ignorant of it. These
two accounts of masonic policy are scarcely compatible.

It is on the authentic works of the two above-mentioned
lights of masonry, Dr. Mackey and Albert Pike, that Mr. Preuss
relies to draw up his exposition of the inner secrets of the or-
ganization. His method is to cite from some of their works

i io NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

•

and then, by reading between the lines, by interpretation, by
inference, to reach his conclusions as to the real, carefully con-
cealed, nature and aims of freemasonry. One of his strongest
chapters is that which handles the masonic claim that the re-
ligious views which the organization officially professes is com-
patible with Catholicity. This claim is easily and peremptorily
disposed of. Elsewhere Dr. Preuss seems to weaken his case
now and again by unduly pressing some inference based upon
some passing remark from a masonic source ; and he does not
sufficiently refute the claim of many American masons that Al-
bert Pike, whose works he so frequently had recourse to as
authoritative, was a firm believer in the God of the Old Testa-
ment. Again, it may be observed, that he has not sufficiently
protected himself from a taunt which masons have frequently
addressed to writers who undertook to expose the inner secrets
of the brotherhood. "You declare," they have said, "that we
exercise a diabolical and successful ingenuity in concealing our
secrets from, not merely the world at large, but also from even
a great number of our own members, who are misled and blind-
folded so that they never come to know our real meaning and
purpose. Yet, through the help of books which masons, deep
in the inner circle, devoted heart and soul to the order, and
men of consummate astuteness, have issued for public circula-
tion, you profess to have found, writ so large that he who runs
may read, our innermost secrets ! "

Mr. Preuss argues, very forcibly, that American and Euro-
pean masonry is at bottom one; and the fact that the masons
of other countries have disowned the Grand Orient of France
on account of its atheistical professions, does not, he warns
us, carry much weight as proof that American masonry is not
anti-religious. He concludes with a note of warning against
a possibility which, it is to be hoped, never shall be realized :

As for us Catholics, if we remain longer in ignorance of the
true character and aims of American esoteric freemasonry,
and neglect to take the proper precautions, in obedience to
the oiten repeated warnings of our Holy Mother the Church,
it will serve us right if the masons succeed in obtaining the
balance of power in the United States, as they hold it to-day
in France, and treat us in America as our poor brethren are
treated in that beautiful but unfortunate land.

1 908. ] NEW BOOKS \ \ i

This novel,* in the life and sur-

MAROTZ. foundings with which it deals, re-

By Ayscough. calls those of Marion Crawford ;

though there is little similarity

between the style or methods of the two authors. Marotz is
the beautiful daughter of a noble Sicilian family, of which no
fewer than four generations are represented in this drama. She
makes a trial of conventual life; but soon, finding that she has
no vocation, returns home and marries — then Rome, the Vatican,
Leo XIII. ; discovery that her husband is a rascal; annulment
of her marriage ; return to her home ; and — but we must not
disclose the climax.

The book is rich in characters of high and low degree, and
the author knows the Italians intimately. It is, besides, to use
a phrase from the publishers' notice, " steeped in Catholicism."
Indeed the insight into some things with which few educated
lay Catholics are familiar is remarkable. For example, he sets
forth the superiority of the contemplative life over the life of
the active religious in a way that would do credit to a theolo-
gian ; and, with just a little twinkle of malice, he allows us to
learn how the active sister and the contemplative sister regard
each other; also, how the sister with solemn vows from which
only the Pope can dispense, feels that, not herself but her order
is incomparably grander than the communities with simple vows
from which any mere bishop can dispense.

Marotz herself is a noble character, drawn with life and in-
dividuality, and her story is one that will fascinate. The novel
is strong and striking, with one structural fault — it is poorly
knit together; containing many incidents and people that,
though interesting in themselves, contribute little or nothing to
the development and rounding-out of the story. But, even with
this fault, it stands high above the average of the year's fiction.

The study on St. Ambrose,! by
ST. AMBROSE. P. de Labriolle in the " Pensee

Chretienne " series, is worthy of the

high academic reputation of the Fribourg professor. In his
introductory sketch the author outlines with a few firm strokes
the chief characteristics of the great archbishop of Milan ; and
to emphasize their distinctiveness sets them in contrast with

* Marotz. By John Ayscough. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons,
t St. Ambtoise. Par le Pere de Labriolle. Paris : Bloud et Cie.

ii2 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

the spiritual and intellectual physiognomy of St. Augustine
and St. Jerome. In his selections from the writings of Ambrose
he is guided by the fact that Ambrose was a man of action
rather than a speaker, or writer; that the chief interest and
influence of his life are to be found in the part he played in
political affairs under the emperors Gratian, Valentinian, and
Theodosius during the period when Christianity, triumphant in
the Empire, was making its decisive struggle for the extinction
of paganism. The greater number of the pieces selected for
embodiment in this volume fall under the caption, Political. A
sufficient number of other extracts, grouped under the heads,
Exegesis, Moral, and Dogmatic, are included to represent very
fairly the individuality of the saint, and his standing as an au-
thority and guide in these various lines of Christian thought.

Besides the luminous critical guidance which he gives us
in the biographical sketch, Father de Labriolle accompanies
each excerpt with copious notes and a preliminary commentary
which puts the reader in possession of the information required
to understand the question at issue ; and he then leaves the
saint to speak for himself. The space allotted to specimens
of the work of St. Ambrose in exegesis seems at first sight
scarcely in proportion to the renown and authority which the
saint enjoyed as an expounder of the Scriptures during his
own lifetime and in the succeeding centuries. But as one in-
spects the pieces chosen for reproduction, he perceives that
the editor's purpose, which is amply achieved, has been to draw
attention to the high consideration which St. Ambrose has as-
signed to the allegorical interpretation.

In days when few, even among ecclesiastics, are willing to
pay the price in time and labor required for a first-hand knowl-
edge of patrology, the editors of this series are conferring a
genuine benefit on religion by the publication of such excellent
volumes as this one, which presents, with scholarly apparatus
and in attractive form, the best thoughts of the great doctors
of the Church.

To many a weary toiler in the

A LITTLE LAND AND A city factory or the store, the pros-
LIVING. pect unrolled by Mr. Bolton Hall

By Bolton Hall. will seem a perfect elysium,

" Leave the crowded street, the

fetid tenement; come and enjoy the fresh air and the blue

i9o8.] NEW BOOKS 113

sky ; be your own master ; and by a fair portion of industrious
labor, in the most healthful of occupations, earn a decent, com-
fortable livelihood for yourself and your family." This is the
invitation of Mr. Hall's latest book,* which is, we hasten to
say, in order to disarm prejudice, entirely unrelated to any of
the economic or social theories which that gentleman has ad-
vocated elsewhere.

A good living, Mr. Hall maintains with a strong show of
statistics and examples, may be made by the cultivation, on
the intensive plan, of a small piece of land in a favorable situa-
tion. He urges workingmen and employees living on meager
wages, to obtain a small piece of land near a good city market.
Then, if they proceed according to his instructions, they will
find that they have improved their position; not alone finan-
cially but also from the social, hygienic, and moral point of
view. Another class to whom he addresses himself is that of
farmers who till more acres than they are able to cultivate
properly ; thirty acres well farmed are more profitable than
three hundred cultivated on the miserable, slipshod plan which
is everywhere so common. Some of the statements are likely
to excite a little scepticism. Yet there are figures in plenty to
back them up, drawn from divers parts of the country, from
New York City lots and from Florida lettuce farms where, be-
tween September 23 and the first of January following, the
profits of half an acre amounted to $295. The effort to turn
towards the land the superfluous population of the cities — of
which this interesting and persuasive book is an outcome — is
one that deserves all encouragement not alone for economic
but also for higher interests.

In the lives of these two Proven-

TWO SEVENTEENTH CEN- 9als, Antoine Yvan and Madeline
TURY FOUNDERS. Martin, M. Bremond has found a

subject that responds to his special

aptitudes and literary qualifications^ They were mystics, they
were saints, one of them was the most unconventional of saints ;
and the atmosphere which clings to both of them is redolent
of Proven9al idibsyncracy which no writer can appreciate, or
do justice to more thoroughly than Henri Bremond.

* A Little Land and a Lwing. By Bolton Hall. With a Letter as an Introduction by
William Bordosi. New York : The Arcadia Press.

t La Provence Mystique au XVIIe. Siecle. Antoine Yvan et Madeline Martin. Par Henri
Brdmond. Paris : Plon-Nourrit et Cie.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 8

114 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

Antoine Yvan was born in the same year as St. Vincent
de Paul, 1576. At an early age he was ordained priest, and
soon became noted for his lofty piety, for the brusqueness of his
manners, and for a tendency to break out into bizarreries, that
might well be called eccentricity. When considerably advanced
in years he became acquainted with Madeline Martin, a young
woman who, under his direction, rose to high levels of the re-
ligious and spiritual life. Together they founded the order of
the Sisters of Mercy, which, after an initial period of external
opposition and internal dissension that recall early Franciscan
fortunes, attained to a flourishing life in France.

A French critic has said of this biography that were it not
for the documentary and other testimony which the author in-
vokes, one might easily believe that the adventures of Antoine
Yvan and Madeline Martin no more belong to history properly
speaking than does George Eliot's Scenes of Clerical Life, or the
romances of Ferdinand Fabre. It is not that these adventures
contain anything extraordinary ; but they seem to be invented
and put together for the purpose of illustrating some of the
most interesting chapters in religious psychology. The humor-
ous character of Pere Yvan, his unconventional ways, and his
peculiar methods of directing Madeline, whose character pro-
vides a foil for his, suffers nothing at the hands of a writer so
accomplished and a psychologist so acute as M. Bremond. But
there is no indication anywhere that he tampers with facts or
overstrains a situation to make an incident more picturesque
or an antithesis more striking. Needless to say, though M.
Bremond does not disdain to entertain, and, sometimes, even
to amuse, his dominant aim is edification.

That firm believer in the aposto-

DISCOURSES ON MAR- late of the press, Abbe Klein, has
RIAGE. collected a number of discourses

which he has delivered at mar-
riages of friends and acquaintances in France. In them, taken
collectively,* is set forth the ideal of Christian marriage, and
the home, with exhortations suitable to the newly married
to prepare them to meet the trials of the married life.
The serious instruction, as befitted the occasions on which it
was delivered, is wrapped in liberal allowance of poetic senti-

• Discours du Mariage. Par Abbe" Felix Klein. Paris : Bloud et Cie.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 115

ment and oratorical flowers. What an exquisite touch,' for ex-
ample, to entitle a discourse delivered at the marriage of a
widow : " An Autumn Rose ! " All the pieces show signs of
having been carefully polished to meet the exacting standards
of good French society. If we may believe the sighs and
groans and other manifestations of distress emitted by some of
those who find themselves called upon to speak at a wedding,
this function must be one of the most trying of all that fall with-
in the scope of the pastoral office. To any unfortunate contem-
plating with dismay the approach of an occasion when he will
be called upon to discharge this trying role, we recommend
Abbe Klein's present volume as a treasury of excellent models
and useful suggestion.

The instructions, about forty in

SERMONS FOR BOYS. number, which compose this vol-
ume,* were delivered to students

of Stonyhurst College. They are pitched in the note proper
to the conference and lecture chair rather than in that of the
pulpit. They are not arranged in any systematic order of
topics; but they form, nevertheless, a correlated group; and
there is not a single one that is not direct and practical in its
aim, carefully thought out, and couched in language to please
an intelligent audience. Though professedly for boys, they
are, both in matter and form, well suited to the needs of others
who have long left the immaturities of boyhood behind them.

At length we have a new edition
THE OLD ENGLISH BIBLE, of Dom Gasquet's book of essays

in English religious history which

has become celebrated under the very inadequate, truncated
title of The Old English Bible^ Although scarcely more than
a decade old the first edition was exhausted long ago. The
new edition contains no new material. One regrets that the
author was not persuaded to carry out a design which he at
one time entertained " of adding a third essay to the two on
The Pre- Re formation English Bible, which were much discussed
at the time they first appeared, and the conclusions embodied
in them were challenged in various quarters."

* We Preach Christ Crucified. Considerations and Meditations for Boys. By Herbert
Lucas, SJ. St. Louis : B. Herder.

t The Old English Bible; and Other Essays. By Francis Aidan Gasquet, D.D., Lon-
don : G. Bell & Sons.

116 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

It might seem somewhat belated to offer to our readers, at
this date, any information on the nature of this well-known
work. Yet one may question whether it is as general a con-
stituent of our Catholic libraries as it ought to be; and cer-
tainly it is far from having among Catholics the wide circula-
tion it deserves. This may be due in part to the fact that its
title, borrowed from two of the most important essays, has led
many to presume that it is exclusively devoted to a topic
which makes but a slight popular appeal. Its scope, however,
is not confined to the question of the authorship of the ver-
sion known as Wycliffe's Bible. By the way, we may observe,
Dom Gasquet tells us that further study of the subject has re-
sulted in bringing to his hand material which, he believes,
strengthens his contention as to the Catholic origin of this
Version. Besides the essays on this topic, there are a number
of others which depict some of the characteristics of religious
mediaeval life among the people, and within the monastery, and
one carries us down to the spacious days of Queen Elizabeth.

Dom Gasquet does not belong to the- Dryasdusts; he is not
content to exhibit only the dry bones which he has disinterred
from ancient records — notebooks, parish sermons, parochial rolls,
monastic chronicles ; he clothes them with living flesh and blood ;
and has the knack of rendering his pages realistic by the fre-
quent introduction of some homely detail, or incident that, more
than the most eloquent dissertation, makes the past live again
for us. The abbot, in a passage of the essay entitled "The
Notebooks of William ot Worcester," takes us into his confi-
dence, and allows us to see him at his loved work of extract-
ing his material from the old time-stained leaves in which it
lies mixed with much that is worthless :

Above all, there is much pleasurable excitement to be got
out ot an old notebook. There is something of the nature of
a " lucky-bag " about it. You may thrust your hand in and
bring to light very little worth the trouble ; but it may come
out with some item of precious information which will repay
with interest the time spent in turning over its pages. If you
get nothing else for your pains you will have at least got
some insight into the period covered by the notebook, and
into the manners and customs of the people living when the
original owner made his jottings.

We are prepared to learn that:

1908.] NEW BOOKS 117

To get this, however, out of the book requires a good por-
tion of patience and perseverance. No scribble must be ac-
counted too insignificant to be read, no scrap of paper too
small to be regarded. It is wonderful how much a little
scratchy scribble may tell one ; and how great a tendency
precious letters and memoranda have to hide themselves
away in the leaves of notebooks, and sulk away there until
some one has proved himself to possess patience enough to
seek them.

Thus, by attending to every little scratchy scribble no less
than to more pretentious and generous sources, and by "liv-
ing wisdom with each studious year," this Benedictine, loyal
to the traditions of his order, has done wonders towards rec-
tifying slanderous misrepresentations which Protestant prejudice
had thrown upon the Church of Pre- Reformation days in Eng-
land.

This little book * has no rival in
PRIESTLY VOCATION. our language. It is written for as

pirants to the priesthood, to im-
press them with a proper sense of the dignity they aim at, a
proper understanding of the clerical state, and of the first step
which they take to it in the reception of the tonsure. Two
chapters are devoted to "The Spirit of the Priesthood and the
Sanctification of the Seminary Life." Of the practical charac-
ter of the work it suffices to say that it was written by a dis-
tinguished Sulpician of long experience in the Sulpician work
of forming the clergy ; and, besides, its value has long been
tested favorably in its original tongue. The writer of the Fore-
word, which is dated from Brighton Seminary, so justly indi-
cates the particular need which there is for this book here in
America that we cannot do better than repeat his words :

In our country, where aspirants to the priesthood make a
goodly part of their training in colleges where the influence
is rather worldly than ecclesiastical, it is the exception that
he has anything but a hazy notion of his calling. In fact, it
is not of rare occurrence that the student learns of tonsure
and the character of the clerical state for the first time only
after entering the seminary. The development of a true
clerical spirit is, however, of absolute necessity ; and oiten
this means a radical change.

* Priestly Vocation and Tonsure. By L. Bacuez, S.S. New York: The Cathedral Libra-
ry Association.

n8 NEW BOOKS [Oct.,

Certainly no aspirant to the priesthood can read this little
volume without understanding clearly what is expected of him
when in sortem Domini vocatus.

A curious little pamphlet of 123 small pages,* written by
one who obviously prides himself upon being a Modernist of
the deepest dye, yet who does not let his enthusiasm for his
cause betray him to write over his own name — or, should it
be said rather that, after the fashion of Modernist productions,
it is issued anonymously ? The pen-name " Catholici " sug-
gests something of a puzzle, one that becomes the more ob-
scure as the pages of his (or is it their? — " quelques-uns de
leurs humbles freres," he calls himself, though later he uses the
first person singular) lucubration are read. Is he a Modernist,
after all; or one of those dreadful, orthodox " intellectuals " at
his old game of "falsifying" history in order to show up the
Modernist heresy in more than its most brazen and shameless
nakedness? Or is he a Protestant trying to make a large
capital out of a regrettable schism that, for all its bluster and
noise, is really a very small one ? Or an agnostic ? a ration-
alist ? a sceptic ? Any one, from Anglican to Universalist,
seems to claim the right to call himself Catholic now-a- days ;
why not these ?

There are, to help on the argument of Catholici, quotations
from writers of all these " Catholic" persuasions. The author
of the brochure, writing from Paris to " all the best people,"
begins by informing his readers that Pius X. is really very
frightened and very angry, though (he takes care to add) to
no purpose, on account of the intellectual progress of the
world which he is powerless to stop. The usual reflections,
familiar to readers of Modernist productions, are made and re-
iterated: the colossal ignorance of the Pope: "La foi agreste.
et toute pratique de celui dont la volonte de TAllemagne a
fait le successeur de Leon XIII., son ignorance tranquille et
fiere des ' etudes profanes,' sa confiance de vicaire de cam-
pagne," etc. : the backstairs authorship of the Encyclical Pas-
cendi, the discrepancy of " Papal " Modernism and that of the
Modernists, with others of the same tenor. Even the phrases
and terminology of the document are carped at, in one place,
with a brilliant scintillation of caustic wit: " Trente ans durant,

* Lcndemains d' Ency clique. Par Catholici. Paris : Nourry.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 119

Toeijvre etincelante de Renan n'avait pas trouble le bon som-
meil du clerge superieur ni non plus celui du ' clerge inferieur '
comme ecrit apostoliquement Rex."

The very bad- faith bracketing of orthodox and questionable
names, a favorite trick of writers of the stamp of " Catholici,"
occurs more than once — Duchesne and Loisy, Newman and
Tyrrell, for example. But what betrays the character of Len-
demains d* Ency clique is the treatment of the dogmatic magis-
terium of the Church. "Dogma and a dogmatic Church are the
logical outcome of the history of Catholicity. But it was not
always so. There was a time when Jesus preached the coming
of the kingdom and the necessity of preparing oneself for it
by living aright and repenting of wrongdoing." This, as drawn
out in the pamphlet, sounds like Protestantism pure and sim-
ple. It certainly is not Catholic. Renan is quoted : " Un seul
dogme abandonne . . . c'est la negation de 1'Eglise et de
la revelation." Can not Modernists see that Renan is right in
this point at least? Or is the Constitution De Fide of the Vati-
can Council dogmatic — and therefore to be cast aside. After
all, the main issue is clear and distinct, no matter how Mod-
ernists of the stamp of " Catholici " distort it. Either the Catho-
lic Church is the divinely appointed guardian of an external,
God-given revelation or not. If so, perish Modernism with all
the other private-judgment .heresies that have ever convulsed
and distracted the religious world. If we do not accept such
a truth, then let us be honest and say so. Let us leave a
church that has no claim on our allegiance, that can speak with
no certain voice on things of the spirit, that by necessity, of
its very nature, must condemn all that Modernists hold most
dear, since its first preoccupation must be to keep and teach
inviolate "the faith once delivered to the saints."

Of course " Catholici " has fears as to the effects of the
Pope's legislation. It will result in " un clerge inculte, presque
un clerge illettre— un clerge negre ou papou — un clerge de popes
et de sacristains." We shall see. Such prophecies have been
heard before; and, somehow, the Catholic Church manages to
survive them.

periobicals<

The Tablet (25 July): Deals with "The Quebec Pageant,"
showing that though Quebec is still essentially French,
it is still essentially Catholic, its people having little in
common with the spirit of the France of Voltaire and

M. Combes. The second part of the article on "The

Pan- Anglican Congress " is called a case of Episcopal
Inflation. Why, the writer asks, should the Episcopal
Church in the United States, which does not include
more than a million souls, have eighty- three bishops,
being one-third of the whole episcopate of the Anglican
Communion? "The Catholic Settlements Associa-
tion," gives an exhaustive account of the work of this
society, its aims and objects, special reference being
made to the retreats which have been instituted recently
for workingmen.

(i August): "The Irish Universities Bill" has passed its
third reading. Owing to the parsimony of the govern-
ment, the new University in Dublin is not to be a resi-
dential University ; its students are to be scattered about
in lodgings. The Catholic Church in touch with so-
cial life is depicted in the description of the Vie Nou-
velle, a paper published in France devoted to farming,
industrial enterprises, and all questions touching upon
labor. The purport of the paper is to keep Catholics
abreast of the social life of their time and actually lead

in it. Under the heading "The Roman Courts," is

given the gist of the matter contained in the recent Bull
Sapienti Concilio, which redistributes the business of the
Roman Spiritual Courts and simplifies their procedure.
(8 August): "Parliament and the Establishment," deals
with the recent conflict between the civil and religious
authorities over the Act known as "The Deceased Wife's
Sister Bill." The Church of England has long claimed
that such marriages are incestuous, and repelled the
parties contracting them from the Communion Table.
Recently, however, Sir Lewis Dibdin, Dean of Arches,
has decided that they are legal by act of Parliament,

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 121

and the contracting parties entitled to receive Commun-
ion. It is but another proof that the Establishment is a
creation of Parliament, and that the latter may dictate in

matters of faith and morals. " Utrecht and Canter-

bury," recalls a fact but little known in the present day,
that in 1890 the Anglican Bishop of Salisbury wrote the
Archbishop of Utrecht asking for a recognition of An-
glican Orders. The Jansenist Church, however, refused
(as did afterwards Leo XIII.) to accept the Anglican

Ordinal. Among reviews is that of the recent volume

of The History of the German People, by Janssen. It
touches upon the baneful influence of the Reformation
on art. Architecture, sculpture, painting, church music,
became mirrors of the lowered and debased standard of
the life of the times.

(15 August): Reports a " Great Falling Off in the Foreign
Trade of England/' amounting, according to the Board
of Trade returns, to many millions of pounds. Atten-
tion is drawn to the utter lack of anything like doctri-
nal pronouncement in " The Lambeth Encyclical." The
Anglican bishops have assumed an attitude of deplorable
compromise in dealing with the marriage question in its
various aspects. Permission has been given Anglican
missionaries to have a wineless Communion, in what are
called cases of necessity. One of them, it appears, had

already used cocoanut milk. " The Abuse of School

Neutrality," shows how that neutrality is being observed.
Cases are given where the teachers have denied the ex-
istence of God. One case is cited where a certificate of
study was refused to any child who should attend Mass.
The Government in every case has upheld the teacher.
"Religious Equality," says the President of the Board
of Education, "is the only basis for the settlement of
the Education difficulty." If this be true, then the pres-
ent Bill will have to be altered beyond all recognition.
The Month (August): Opens with a double article on "The
Pan-Anglican Congress," accentuating the good deeds
done and the wise words uttered ; lamenting, on the
other hand, the almost entire exclusion of the super-
natural from any of its deliberations. " Catholics and

the Italian Universities " tells of the work of the Church

122 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Oct.,

•

in the building of the Pensione Universitaria at Padua.

" A Bogus Biography," from the pen of Father

Thurston, is mainly occupied by the exposure of a par-
ticular piece of imaginative history. He begins by re-
ferring to an article which appeared in the Rosary Maga-
zine on "A Typical Tertiary — the Blessed Euphemia,
Daughter of Edward III., King of England," who, he
says, is utterly unknown to any English historian. He
then passes on to the story of the Scottish missionary,
Father Archangel, commonly known as George Leslie,
which appeared in The American Catholic Quarterly for
January, 1908. This he denounces as a bogus biog-
raphy, and urges that in such cases we should adhere
to a scrupulous accuracy of historical statement.
The National Review (Sept.) : Following " Episodes of the
Month," an appreciation of the important part played by
Lord Lansdowne in the House of Lords is presented by

"A Peer." "The Cult of Cant," by J. L. Garvin, is

a charge and protest against the pharisaical arguments
put forth by the Free Traders at the recent Free
Trade Congress at Caxton Hall. In his article "Bel-
gium in the Grip of Germany," R. H. Feibelmann re-
views circumstances which indicate that sooner or later
Germany will acquire a free hand in Belgium. The
writer asks whether or not the other Powers, who guar-
antee the independence of Belgium, will, through neglect
and ignorance of facts, permit themselves to be the in-
voluntary accomplices of those who are working for the

slow Germanization of Belgium. " Motor Traffic on

the King's Highway," discusses the great evils arising
from the inconsiderate driving of motor cars, and how

such evils may be mitigated. "The London Season,"

by Domino, is a discussion of social life in the great
capital, and a consideration of the moral lessons which

the question of entertaining provides. The writer of

" The Country Parson and the Village School " advo-
cates Church of England teaching to the children of

village schools. Thomas Bayne, in his article "Mr.

Andrew Lang and Robert Burns," takes exception to
the trustworthiness of the guidance afforded by Mr.
Andrew Lang in his editorship of Burns poems.

i9o8.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 123

'The Hindu Conception of Man/' by Mme. Jean De-

laire. "The Future of Japan," is a second study of

the Far East from the pen of W. T. R. Preston.

The International ^August): A new industrial condition is out-
lined by the editor in his article "The Technical Age."
Some countries lend themselves to an unlimited indus-
trial development as, for example, the United States,
which are a world in themselves. In the struggle the
older countries must of necessity fall behind, among

them being France and England. That the time is

near when aerial navigation will have become a general
means of locomotion is maintained by the writer of

"The Present and Future of Aerial Navigation."

" The Progress of Polar Exploration " deals with the
attempts to reach the North Pole, from the date of
the first expedition, in 1553, up to the present year.
The palm of merit so far belongs to the Americans, and
the race now lies between Peary and Amundsen, the

Swede. " Railroad Regulation in America " suggests

four ways of dealing with a much- vexed question. Gov-
ernment ownership would appear to be the logical con-
clusion. Among other articles are " Old Age Pen-
sions in Australia." And " Present-Day Slavery in

Mexico." " The Aims of Indian Art " goes to show

that the philosophy of the subject is contained in the
one word — meditation.

The Seven Hills Magazine (Sept.): M. O'R. writes on "The

New Constitution of the Roman Curia." " Scenes

and Shrines in Palestine " are described by Rev. Regi-
nald Walsh, O.P. The celebrated Rev. Charles O'Con-

or, D*D. (Columbanus) is the subject of a sketch by M.

O'R. An article of particularly timely interest is "The

Blessed Eucharist in England in the Days of King
Henry VIII.," by the Rev. D. F. McCrea.

The Irish Ecclesiastical Record (August): Contains several con-
tinued articles. The first by Rev. P. Coffey, Ph.D.,
" 'Appearance* and * Reality/" deals with the half-truths
of Modern Philosophy, among others that we can only
know the Phenomenon and that the Noumenon is un-
knowable. "The Causality of Creatures and Divine

Co-operation," by Rev. D. Coghlan, D.D., reviews ad-

124 POREIGN PERIODICALS [Oct.,

versely the theory of an essay entitled, " The Flow of
Motion," which claims that motion is a "form" which
can pass from subject to subject without losing its indi-
viduality, and that creatures do not originate action
with God's concurrence. The reviewer disproves this
theory by arguments based on the sanctity of God, ac-
tion of Free-will, and the causality of the Sacraments.

" Steps Towards Bethlehem/' by T. Frederick Willis,

gives reasons for leaving the Anglican Communion;
among them being the impossibility of believing in the
reality of their sacraments. At best, he says, it is only

an opinion; and opinion is not faith. " Dialogues on

the Pentateuch " is concluded in this number.

Le Correspondant (10 August): Cardinal Mathieu, in "A Dip-
lomatic Success of the Holy See," tells of the intelli-
gence, moderation, and allowance for human weaknesses
shown by the Papal Court in dealing with involved po-
litical questions. The case cited is that of Mgr. Sala-
mon, in the troublous period following upon the down-
fall of Napoleon and the accession of Louis XVIII.

Under the caption "The Origin of the Port of Bizerte"
is given an account of the building of a modern arsenal

in Northern Africa. "The Parisian Domestics" deals

with the vexed question "The Servant Problem." In-
crease in wages, indifferent service, tipping, are among
the difficulties discussed. Various societies have been
established for the protection and benefit of servants,
having as honorary members some of the most promi-
nent men in public life. A descriptive account of

"The Franco-English Exposition," tells how it resulted
from a visit to London of the Parisian Chamber of
Commerce in 1905. It touches upon the Olympic games
and gives some causes for the great dissatisfaction felt.

"The Stage," by Paul Acker, shows the place the

theater has in the life of the people. "What excites
Paris?" he asks; and answers, "the stage."

Etudes (5 August): "The Action of Catholics in Public Life"
is concluded. The first thing to establish is that there
is a code of Christian principles which should govern
politics, and the business of Catholics is to uphold this
code. Chanoine Dunand writes on " The Sanctity of

i9o8.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 125

Joan of Arc." As it appears in history, it is, he says,
unique. Her condemnation is spoken of as a scandal to
the English. Twenty years afterwards the proceedings
were declared null and void and her character fully reha-
bilitated. "The Herzog-Dupin Question," as reviewed

by Eugene Pertalie, is a statement of the charge made
by M. Saltet that the lucubrations of Dupin, Herzog,
and also Lenain, are nothing but shameless plagiarisms
from the same source, and that source the manuscripts

of the Abbe Turmel. Lucien Rouri, in " Mysticism,"

selects three representative mystics, taken from different
epochs and under different circumstances. St. Theresa,
Mme. Guyon, and Suso. The Blessed Marguerite-Marie
is not selected, as she is not persona grata to profane
psychologists.

La Democratie Chretienne (August) : Gives a full account of
"The Social Week at Marseilles," and the various ad-
dresses dealing with religion and social life. The week
has proved an enormous success for both organizers

and lecturers. "The Spanish Letter" records the

foundation in that country of the Institute for Social
Reform in 1903, its aims and objects, also the success
obtained by the Catholic Socialists in the election of
their members.

Revue des Questions Scientifiques, Vol. XIV. (July) : Opens
with a biographical sketch of the late Albert de Lap-
parent. He was a learned man and a splendid Chris-
tian, the greatest authority on geology in France, and

the champion and supporter of all generous works.

" Responsibility, Normal and Abnormal " is a continued
article by L. Bouli. It distinguishes between the various
grades of mental weakness. Cases bearing upon each
phase of the disease are presented ; while erotic impulses,
dipsomania, epilepsy, hysteria, are shown to be fruitful

causes. " Ports and their Economic Function " takes

a survey of some of the most important seaport towns
and harbors in the world. Valuable charts and statistics

accompany the article In "The Unity of Matter,"

Georges Lemoine describes it as one of the most im-
portant and most difficult questions in chemistry. Is it
absolutely certain that what to-day are called simple

126 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Oct.,

bodies are different entities? On the other hand, all
that can be said from a strictly experimental point of
view is that it is not impossible that all matter may be
one.

Revue Pratique d* Apologetique (i August) : In his essay on
" Systematic Apologetic " J. V. Bainvel deals with the
subject under four heads — subjective, pragmatic, moral,
and as affecting faith. The teaching of the Modernists
on Immanence and the appeal to conscience is vigorously

assailed. " The Esthetic Sentiment in the Education of

Children " — the work of education is a work of elevation,
and all that is esthetic tends to uplift the nature of the
child. Beauty of form suggests interior beauty and pre-
pares the way for the child's acceptance of a higher life,

moral and spiritual. "The Teachers without Faith*

Family, or Country." A review of the secular schools
by Fenelon Gibon. The teaching given, he says, often
aims at the overthrow of the Catholic religion. Parents
are called upon to resign the care of their children into
the hands of the masters ; while under the name of in-
ternationalism, love of country is destroyed.
(15 August): A. Moulard writes on "The Catholic and
the Coercive Power of the Church/' a subject much un-
der discussion at the present moment, and one always
misunderstood by the enemies of the Church. We might
expect the Church to have the power of self-protection,
this must necessarily involve the right of correction, the
power to judge and to punish. "The Esthetic Senti-
ment in the Education of Children " is concluded in this

number. A. Durand, S.J., has a continued article on

" Loisy and the Synoptic Gospels." He mentions the
two schools of criticism, the Historical, at the head of
which is Harnack, and the Higher Critics, represented
by Loisy, Wellhausen, and Cheyne. So far as the re-
sults arrived at by Loisy are concerned, namely, the
denial of the supernatural, they differ in no essential
from those put forth by the leaders of radical criticism
in Germany for the past thirty years.

Revue du Monde Catholique (i August): The first chapters of
a continued article on " Modernism " treats of the Bible
stripped of all authority and regarded merely as a human

I908.J FOREIGN PERIODICALS 127

document. The Pentateuch and the Gospels occupy po-
sitions of first importance as revealing to us the begin-
nings of the Jewish and Christian religions. These are
just the parts of the Bible Modernists refuse to accept
and empty of all authority. " Studies on the Revolu-
tion " is brought to a close. The works of the Abbe of
Bonneval show him to have been a determined enemy

of Napoleon and a wise counsellor of the Bourbons.

Under Science and Romance " The Empire of Man " is
considered. Man has a power which he cannot acquire,
it is just this power which enables him to gain the mas-
tery over nature. We call it intelligence. Evolution
may be the process of this development, but it is cer-
tainly not the cause. "The Historical Sketch of Works

Executed by the Grave-Digging Christians of the Cata-
combs" Jis still continued. As is also "The Apoc-
alypse Interpreted by Holy Scripture."
(15 August): "The Secret of the Woman Question" is
a continued article by Theo Joran, who regards it as a
new apple of discord, affecting the national character,
utterly opposed to the true relationship existing between
the sexes, ending in divorce and free- love, with a con-
sequent degradation of the woman. "Science or Ro

mance," by J. d'Oryle, is a review of M. Clodd's The
Story of Creation, which professes to be an accurate state-
ment of the theory of evolution. " Modernism," a

continued article by Ch. Beaurredon, points out the vi-
ciousness of the system and the false hypotheses on which
it is conducted. The writer takes the Gospels one by
one and illustrates the Modernistic method of proving

them untrue. Among other continued articles is the

"Princess Louise of Conde," by Dom Rabory.
Revue Thomiste (July-August): Fr. Reg. Garrigon-Lagrange,
O.P., writes a continued article on " Common Sense, the
Philosophy of Being, and Dogmatic Formulas." The
theory discussed is that of the Conceptualist-Realist
School. Common sense, as distinguished from the good
sense, is common to all. It perceives in the light of
" Being " the truth of the principle of the reason of Be-
ing. By it we arrive at the principles of causality and
finality, and by the aid of these the common sense rises

128 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Oct.,

•

to God. "The Nature and Value of Induction," by

T. Richard. The ancients, he tells us, say very little
about induction. Aristotle dwells much upon the syl-
logism, but we search in vain for any course on induc-
tion and his commentators have followed their master's
example. " The Twenty-Fourth Question in the Sum-
mary of Theology," by Fr. Th.-M. Pegues, O.P., treats
of the procession of creatures, and God as the pri-
mary cause of all being. Four articles are discussed :
I. Is it necessary that all being should be caused by
God ? II. If original matter is caused by God ; III. If
the cause is something outside God ; IV. If God is the
final cause of all things.

Stimmen aus Maria-Laach (7 August) : O. Zimmermann, S.J.,
writes on "Experiencing Religion." The writer shows
how illogical and absurd are the assertions of the theos-
ophists. Man desires to experience religion, but only on
the basis of sound Christian and Catholic doctrine, then
will he be able to " taste and see that the Lord is sweet."

A. Breitung, S.J., ends his article on " Evolution

and Monism " by giving a survey of the discussion on
this subject by P. Wasmann and Prof. Plate in Berlin.

St. Beissel, S.J., gives a short history of the origin

and development of the crosier. The present serpentine
shape of the crosier originated probably in Ireland, where
snakes and dragons played a conspicuous part in almost

all ornaments. K. Schlitz, S.J., in the conclusion to

his paper on " The Panama Canal," thinks this canal
will exceed that of Suez in natural beauty, grandeur, and
importance, and will give to the United States the po-
litical and commercial supremacy of the world.

Die Kultur (III.) : Albert Wimmer writes on "The Modern
Knowledge of Natural Sciences and its Relation to Chris-
tian Apologetic" — an epilogue to the lectures of P.
Wasmann, S.J. The writer contends that the natural
sciences are destined to become a powerful support for

the belief in God. P. Reginald Schultes, O.P., in an

article on " Thomism and Modernism," treats of the
theological value of St. Thomas' philosophy and of the

relation between theology and philosophy in general.-

Dr. Jos. Brzobohaty contributes a biographical sketch on

1908.]

FOREIGN PERIODICALS

129

"Sebastian Brunner," the brave champion of God, who
began in Austria, in the middle of the last century, the
fight for the freedom of the Church from political servi-
tude. Articles on "The Fall of Vienna in 1809"

" Prince- Archbishop of Vienna " " Count Hohenwart's

Conduct " and " The Marriage of Archduchess Marie

Louise to Napoleon " relate, in a lively manner, the

events and concerns of Vienna of a century ago.

La Civilta Cattolica (i August): "The Criticism of the Modern-
ist/' its gospel is agnosticism, immanence, and evolution,
as opposed to the supernatural, miraculous, and divine.

The continued article on " Liberty of Instruction "

is brought to a close. After all, the Church, so often
accused of intolerance and tyranny, furnishes the best
teaching, reading, writing, arithmetic, and religion ; and
the most necessary of all is religion. Reference is made
to the enormous sum spent by the Catholic Church in

the United States on the education of her children.

" Christian Conditions in China,'* gives an account of the
various revolts and rebellions since the war of 1840, and
the treaties which followed, noting their effects upon the
status of Christianity among the people.
(15 August): " National Character and Catechism," defines
a nation as a true political union of a varied population
associated naturally by geographical situation and arti-
ficially by language, custom, tradition, law, morals.
These varied interests go to form national character, and
to these education must address itself. The article is to be

continued. A new study in the matter of Pope Li-

berius is brought to a close. "Athens and Rome,"

contrasts the old classical education with the modern
scientific and technical one which has helped so much

to commercialize life and destroy high ideals. " The

False Notion as to the Narrowness of Aristotle and the
Scholastics." It is so often charged that the study of
scholastic philosophy tends to narrowness, but the ques-
tion is, Wherein does true liberality consist ? Not in
the free-thinking of the day.

Revista Internet zionale (July) : " The Improvement of the Eco-
nomic Social Conditions of the People," by Dante Mune-
rati. To love the worker, and not to hold him in a state
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 9

i3o FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Oct.,

•

of bondage, but to lift him to higher things, is the true
solution of the social question. " The Mutual Co-
operative Society and the National Society for the Pro-
viding of Pensions for Sick and Infirm Workmen/' shows
how far this somewhat socialistic plan has worked in
Italy. The first is a private association, providing pen-
sions for its own members, while the latter is a State

institution. "The Parliamentary Record of Insurance

for Unfortunate and Sick Workingmen in Switzerland,"
is another instance of changed social conditions, and the
recognition by the State of its duty to protect its work-
ing people.

La Scuola Cattolica (July): "Our Enthusiasm for the Pope" is
a glowing tribute of affection prompted by the approach-
ing Jubilee. "The Marvelous Cures at Lourdes as

Viewed by Science." An illustrated article, giving diag-
noses of cases treated, with an analysis of the water,
and furnishing instances of cures which cannot possibly
be accounted for on the theory of suggestion. Physicians
are unable to afford an explanation. Why not regard
it as a part of the magnificent Catholic revival which

has marked the end of the nineteenth century ?

" Modernists and the Fact of the Resurrection of Jesus
Christ." A criticism of the views put forward by M.
Edward Le Roy and Abbe Loisy considered theologic-
ally and philosophically. " The Apologetic Value of

the Christian Martyrs." Rationalists have endeavored
to destroy the argument for the divinity of the Church
built upon the testimony of the martyrs. The writer
shows the objective value of their deaths and how they
demonstrate the divine revelation working through Jesus
Christ.

Razon y Fe (August) : According to L. Murillo, Moses wrote
his cosmogony, primarily, to give an historical sketch of
the Creation ; incidentally, to enlighten the Hebrew peo-
ple as to the divine attributes. " From Neutrality to

Atheism in the School," by R. Ruiz Amado. The au-
thor contends that in Spain the school which does not
teach Catholicity is practically identical with an openly

atheistical school. " Christian Morality in the Spanish

Constitution," by P. Villada. "Rivalry Between the

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 131

Spaniards and Portuguese in the Far East during the

Sixteenth Century," by P. Pastells. " Strikes/1 by N.

Noguer ; a few facts about strikes and lockouts in vari-
ous countries.

Espana y America (15 July): "A Comparative Study of St.
Thomas and Lally on the Science of Universals," by

Father P. M. Velez. "Chinese Teachings on Heaven

and Hell, by Father J. Hospital. " The Philosophy

of the Verb," by F. Robles. Father De Mugica con-

tinues in this and the following number his articles on

the Spanish theater. Father A. Blanco writes again

in this and the mid- August number, about " Weights
and Measures."

(i August): "Godoy and His Age," by Father B. Mar-
tinez. " Modernistic and Traditional Theology," by

FatherS. Garcia. "Venezuela and the Great Powers,"

by F. Pedrosa.

(15 August): " Chinese Ancestor- Worship," by Father J.

Hospital. " The Popularity of Gregorgian Chant," by

F. Olmeda. "The Philosophy of the Verb," by F.

Robles.

Current Events.

The people of France have been
France. occupied mainly in holiday-mak-

ing. Parliament is not sitting, and

the ministers have dispersed to various places. The Premier,
M. Clemenceau, went to Bohemia, and there he met King
Edward and the Russian Foreign Minister, M. Isvolsky. What
they said in the course of their conversation the papers have
not reported, but it is thought that everything possible was
done to promote the maintenance of peace. King Edward had
previously met the Kaiser and the Emperor of Austria, to the
latter of whom he had paid a visit in celebration of his Dia-
mond Jubilee.

The Ministry, however, has not been without its anxieties.
Various strikes have taken place, and it was found necessary
to have recourse to the help of the military ; in one case the
soldiers found it impossible to avoid the use of their arms, and
four men were killed and some fifteen wounded. There exists
in France an association called the Confederation Generale du
Travail, a body of affiliated Trade Unions. While nominally it
has for its object the benefit of workingmen in their relations
with their employers, in reality it is a hotbed of revolutionary
Socialism, and a laboratory for the cultivation of strikes. To
the activity of this body the recent labor disturbances were
due, and the motives for suppressing this pernicious organiza-
tion were strong. It had, however, a legal right to exist, al-
though it had not made a good use of its rights. The govern-
ment, wisely wishing to avoid even the appearance of arbitrary
action, has refrained from taking so strong a measure as the
suppression would have been, and has sought to put a curb
upon the confederation, without proceeding to the last ex-
tremity, by arresting most of the leaders and proceeding against
them in the Courts of Law. In revenge the Confederation
called a general strike, but no response was made to this call.

As in England so also in France many Socialists and
representatives of the interests of labor are opposed to holding
any intercourse with the Tsar on account of the oppression
which is carried on in his name and the blood shed to enforce

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 133

that oppression. But policy is policy, and the basis of French
international action is the alliance with Russia. The interests
of France and the interests of peace require co-operation, and
a blind eye must be turned to internal affairs. The visit of
M. Faliieres to Reval was accordingly made, with the consent
and approbation of all the established parties. The visit was
marked by extreme cordiality ; the Foreign Ministers of France
and of Russia held a prolonged conference, the result of which,
we are told, was to bring about a great improvement in the
international situation. We are not told what the Kaiser really
thinks of its effect. The correspondents of the German Press,
however, who were present at Reval, returned home profoundly
impressed with the conciliatory character of the meeting and
at the entire absence of anything calculated in the least to
offend German susceptibilities. They could not find any signs
of an attempt to hem Germany in ; in fact, Prince Biilow has
recognized that he was mistaken in saying that the Powers
had ever had such an object in view.

The affairs of Morocco have again attracted attention. For
some time the two brothers who are claiming the Sultanate
stood apart and seemed to decline the one way of settling the
question which remained open to them — a decisive battle. At
length Abdul Aziz set his army in motion to return to Mara-
kesh. But on the way tribes that had accepted the rule of
Mulai Hafid fell upon the invaders and in an instant Abdul
Aziz was deserted by the tribesmen who had only a few days
before sworn unalterable fidelity. He fled with a few followers
to a place under the control of the French. His defeat was
regarded as decisive by the Powers, although it would seem
that the late Sultan has not even yet given up all hope.
France has maintained, so it is claimed, complete neutrality
between the rival claimants, although it seems as if she had
leaned rather to the actual holder of the throne, while Ger-
many leaned to Mulai Hafid.

On the defeat of Abdul Aziz the duty fell to France and
Spain as the organizers of the police force under the Act of
Algeciras of learning from the new Sultan what attitude to-
wards that act he intended to assume, and not to recognize him
unless he accepted its provisions. In the event of such recog-
nition, his own recognition by the Powers would be given.
This was considered to be the normal procedure, and consid-

i34 CURRENT EVENTS [Oct.,

arable criticism and even some apprehension followed upon the
action Germany took in sending its Consul to Fez, to Mulai
Hafid, before any steps had been taken by France or Spain
and before the new Sultan had accepted the Act.

The powers that be in Germany
Germany. had not called forth much comment

by any word spoken or deed done

for some little time, until the Kaiser addressed his soldiers at
Strassburg at the beginning of September. It is well under-
stood that Ministers are either taking " cures " or preparing the
scheme of new taxation which has been rendered necessary by
the increase of the Navy recently decided upon. The news-
papers, however, have been discussing the possibility of a re-
duction of armaments, taking as their text the remarks made
by the British Premier at the recent Peace Congress held in
London. So much was written upon the subject that hopes
were beginning to be entertained that serious proposals were
being made by responsible parties for this so-much-to-be-de-
sired reduction. The speech of the Kaiser at Strassburg has
dashed these hopes to the ground, for it indicated that, how-
ever much he desired the maintenance of peace, there was no
intention to discontinue or to diminish the provision of ade-
quate strength for war both by sea and on land. In other re-
spects, however, the speech of the Kaiser was reassuring ; for
he affirmed his deep and sincere conviction that peace was
secure. The princes and sovereigns of Europe had too keen
a sense of the awful responsibility they would incur if they
provoked war, except under the conviction of an imperious
moral necessity.

Airships, aeroplanes, and dirigible balloons fill many col-
umns in the papers, but afford in themselves nothing appro-
priate for these notes. The destruction of Count Zeppelin's
airship, however, called forth a demonstration which was of a
political character and afforded such an indication of the atti-
tude of large numbers of Germans towards one of their neighbors,
that it deserves being mentioned. Messages of condolence were
sent to him by the Kaiser, the Chancellor of the Empire, and
others too numerous to mention ; and a subscription list was at
once opened to reimburse the Count and to enable him to make

1 908. ] CURRENT EVENTS \ 3 5

a new ship, while a large grant of money was given out of the
public funds. There was nothing less than a national demon-
stration of sympathy. Doubtless to some extent this was
largely personal; but there is no less doubt that it sprang from
the hope, which had been entertained and publicly avowed, that
by Count Zeppelin's airship a death-blow would have been given
to Great Britain's supremacy on the ocean, and that a whole fleet
of Dreadnoughts had been rendered useless. The Crown Prince
declared the object of the subscription to be that Germany
might maintain the lead in the fight for the command of the
aerial seas.

Among the minor items of news must be included the re-
lease, after serving twenty months of the sentence of four years'
imprisonment, of the "Captain of Kopenick," Wilhelm Voigt,
the hero of the ever- to-be-remembered exploit in the outskirts
of Berlin. So great has been the sympathy excited by the
comical audacity of this misdeed, that he has not only found
employment but to him has been granted also out of subscriptions
a monthly allowance.

The Orthodox State Church of

Russia. Russia is generally supposed to be

entirely amenable to the control of

its Head, the Tsar. At the Missionary Congress recently held
at Kieff, however, it has proved refractory. It was summoned
for the purpose of making regulations enabling the Church to
adapt itself to the new conditions established by the Ukase, on
freedom of conscience, of April, 1906. It had been, heretofore,
a criminal offence for a member of the Orthodox Church to leave
its fold. The Congress has refused to recognize the freedom
which the Tsar has ordered, and it still declares to be unlawful
that which its Head declares to be lawful. Most of the Russian
prelates, it is said, have taken part with the most violent of
the organizations in support of the reactionary regime of the
past. With influences such as these on the wrong side, it can-
not be wondered at that there should be many who despair of the
future prospects of the Russian people. On the other hand,
this fact is a ground of hope to the more sanguine; if, not-
withstanding these influences, real progress has been made, then
there is hope for greater progress in the future. But has real
progress been made ? Mr. W. T. Stead, who has a fair knowl-

136 j CURRENT EVENTS [Oct.,

edge of Russian affairs, declares that, after an absence of three
years, the change for the better is almost incredible. Russia
has found the man her circumstances demand. M. Stoly-
pin is trusted by all, and is worthy of the confidence both of
the Tsar and of the nation. He is honest, conscientious, has
ideals, is incapable of intrigue. By the reactionary he is looked
upon as a revolutionist, by the revolutionist as a reactionist.
He recognizes that absolutism has utterly failed, and wishes to
save the country from anarchy, whether in high or in low
places. The Cabinet system of Great Britain he looks upon as
the means of effecting this salvation.

The progress already made, however, disappointing as it may
be, seems substantial. On the one hand the revolutionary fever
has gone, most likely, for good; hopes are, therefore, entertained
that the extraordinary measures for the maintenance of order,
which have been in force so long, may be abrogated altogether,
as has already been done in part. A Bill has been prepared
with the object of reforming the whole system and of limiting
the authority exercised by the police and military, and this
Bill will be laid before the next session of the Duma.

Progress has been made in the settlement of the agrarian
question. The communal ownership of land, known as the
Mir, is being abolished, and the peasants are being converted
into freeholders. Those who are interested in projects for the
nationalization of land should study the lessons which Russia
can afford them of its practical results. The substitution of
private for public ownership of land is the foundation stone
of the present agrarian policy of the Ministry. Great quantities
of land, that formerly belonged to the government, have been
transferred to the peasants, as well as much that was part of
the Imperial appanages. The Land Bank is making large ad-
vances, and sometimes the whole amount is repayable by small
annual installments. By these measures the agitation of the
peasants has been brought to an end. The young people have
gone back to school and college and are now studying their
lessons instead of making revolutionary speeches. Notwith-
standing the manifold abuses which still exist, there is reason
to rejoice that so much has been done, and to hope that much
more will be done in the near future. In particular the Duma,
limited though its powers may be, seems to have become an
established institution.

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS

After seemingly interminable de-
Belgium, bates the Belgian Chamber unex-
pectedly voted the Treaty of an-
nexation of the Congo and the Colonial Law under which it is
to be administered. Should the Senate concur — and there is
no reason to think it will not — Belgium, one of the smallest
of European States, will become possessed of an extent of ter-
ritory as large as the whole of Europe, and, it is to be hoped,
an end will have been put to a most dismal career of mis-
government. Started as a philanthropic attempt, under the
auspices of the chief Powers, it soon eventuated into a sordid
oppression. It will have served one good purpose if it affords
yet another demonstration of the impotence for good of auto-
cratic methods of government. The Powers who signed the
Berlin Treaty, under the provisions of which the Free State
was inaugurated, will have to pass upon the annexation before
it can be brought into effect, and, if necessary, may require
such modification and securities as may be essential for secur-
ing the rights of the natives.

Not the least of the many note-
The Near East. worthy features of the revolution

which is taking place in Turkey is

the startling suddenness with which it was brought about, and
the complete ignorance which had existed in the European
Press as to the likelihood of such an event. Although for a
score of years every class of people and every nationality had
been groaning beneath the oppressive yoke of the Sultan, yet
the bonds which he had so skillfully riveted showed no signs
of breaking. All power had become concentrated in his hands,
hosts of spies and informers were in his pay throughout the
Empire, no man dared to call his soul his own, the usual min-
istrants to an autocrat — a gang of unscrupulous dependents
upon his bounty — seemed destined to rule unchecked for no
one knew how long; for the rest of the people were complete-
ly at the mercy of the palace camarilla.

But the very success of the Hamidian policy was its own
undoing. Those who rally round the throne of a despot are, as
a rule, inefficient and incapable, for no self-respecting man of
character and capability would accept such a position. At all

138 CURRENT EVENTS [Oct.,

events, it so happened in this case. The world has been ac-
customed to hear of the sufferings to which the various races
professing to be Christian have been exposed. These races had,
however, protectors among the various Powers of Europe, not
very efficient indeed, but in a measure sufficient to screen them
from the full exercise of the tyrant's power. But the Turks
themselves had no protector, and they felt the full weight of
his arm. Excessive taxation, the arbitrary rule of the Sultan
and his favorites, corruption of every kind; these they had to
endure, and there was no one to whom they could appeal. The
soldiers had to bear even more, for they were called away from
their homes, and had to serve without pay, and oftentimes al-
most without clothes. From patriotic motives they had hither-
to been willing to endure all this; but recent events have made
their patriotism the very reason for shaking off the tyrant's
yoke. The concessions which the Sultan has been forced to
make in Macedonia to the Powers, and the expectation that he
was on the point of being forced to make even greater con-
cessions, made clear his impotence as the defender of the Em-
pire; the last bond which held them to him was broken. Hence
it was that in secret for several years, and especially during the
past three, the Committee of Union and Progress, made up of
young Turks, has been at work. Its organization had spread
far and wide in every part of the Empire, and had won over
to its side the only support upon which tyranny can rest — the
army. The whole country was prepared; but, it is said, the
Committee was not quite ready to act, and that the revolution
was precipitated by the fact that the Sultan's spies had revealed
their plans to the officials at headquarters. A commission was
being sent from Constantinople to make arrests. It was neces-
sary to act at once and word was, thereupon, sent to the Sul-
tan that it the Constitution which had been granted in 1876,
and which had been arbitrarily suspended within a year or two
of that promulgation, were not restored, the Third Army Corps,
made up chiefly of Albanians, would march upon Constanti-
nople. The Sultan, rinding that the rest of the army insisted
upon the same demands, had no choice but to yield. The res-
toration of Midhat's constitution was not, nor could it be ex-
pected to be, spontaneous, and we may be quite sure it will
not continue in existence should power to overturn it be re-
gained by the Sultan.

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 139

A question arose as to whether he should be deposed ; but
the Committee which is now the controlling power seem to
have come to the conclusion that he would be more danger-
ous in the position of a pretender to the throne than as a
monarch under the control of law, and that his experience
might be even beneficial to the nation.

The Sultan has taken his oath to abide by the Constitu-
tion. A ministry was formed, with a man of great experience
at its head, Said Pasha. But in the very formation of the
ministry, a violation of the Constitution, as well as of the re-
sponsibility of the Cabinet as a whole, was committed : the
Sultan had been allowed to reserve to himself the appointment
of the Ministers of War and of Marine in derogation of the
rights of the Head of the Ministry. This led to the fall of
Said Pasha after a few days of office, and a new ministry,
under Kiamil Pasha, a more advanced Liberal, has been formed.
Elections have been ordered which are to take place in time
for the meeting of Parliament in October. The cumbersome
method of indirect election has been adopted. That is to say,
those entitled to vote are to elect what is called a college of
electors, and this college is to choose those who are to make
up the actual Parliament. The Turks will dominate the new
Parliament, having by far the largest majority ; the Bulgarians
will have only seven representatives, while the Greeks will
have some fourteen or sixteen.

The Parliament, when it meets, will have questions of the
utmost difficulty to solve. Absolute rule has resulted in bank-
ruptcy and impoverishment, and money must be found by
some means or other. A still greater difficulty will be the re-
lations of the various nationalities to the governing power, and
to one another. As is well known these nationalities hate each
other more than they hate the Turk, and although in the
moment of joy, after the Constitution had been proclaimed,
they fraternized, their mutual jealousies have broken out again
and conflicting demands are being made. Moreover, it must
be remembered that the revolution has been made by Turks
in the interests of Turkey, and not for the benefit of Christians,
except in so far as Turks may consider fair treatment of
Christians of advantage to Turkey. The young Turks aim at
a strong Turkey, and the demands for autonomy and Home
Rule, which have already been formulated by both Greeks and

140 CURRENT EVENTS [Oct.,

Bulgarians, may not in their judgment be compatible with the
aims which have animated the Committee of Union and Prog-
ress. Education too, the character which it is to have and
the language in which it is to be given, is another question,
the solution of which will present many and great difficulties.

That the revolution should have taken place at this pre-
cise time seems almost providential. If Austria and Russia
had been acting together so exclusively and whole-heartedly
at the time when it broke out as for some years they have
been acting, and had not the rapprochement between Great
Britain and Russia been brought about, there seems good
reason to think that intervention might have taken place ; for
their mutual interests and long-cherished ambitions have been
seriously affected, and there is a wondrous sympathy between
autocrats. A " holy " alliance might have been formed be-
tween the Emperor, the Tsar, and the Sultan. But Russia
and Great Britain, in consequence of the recent rapprochement,
had just taken the lead in making proposals for reform in
Macedonia, to which proposals Austria was barely acquiescent;
and for very shame Russia could not go back in the course
upon which she had just entered.

The carrying into execution of these proposals has, indeed,
been suspended, but all the Powers have agreed not to inter-
vene, and to wait to see whether the Parliament about to as-
semble will carry out the reforms that are necessary. The
young Turks would, it is true, like to see the departure of the
European officers whose efforts for improving the country have,
for the past few years, met with so little success; and if the
revolution continues to have the peace-making effects which
have for a short time resulted from it, it is possible their wish
may be gratified. But they must make the presence of those
officers unnecessary, by themselves effecting the reforms which
are essential to peace and good order. A great deal will have
to be done before such an event takes place. But so much
has been done already in so short a time, with so little blood-
shed and so much moderation, that there is reason to hope
that light has permanently arisen upon one of the darkest re-
gions of the earth, and that the absolute domination of one
of the worst of tyrants with his parasitic crew has definitely
come to its end. Even the strikes at Constantinople, which
followed so quickly upon the establishment of the new methods,

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS

141

may be taken as an indication how quickly and completely
Western ideas are being assimilated.

It is worthy of note that the young Turkish movement,
while it found in the army its instrument, derived its impulse
and its ideas from civilians, and that the Committee of Union
and Progress, which is its organ, does not aspire to mastery
and control. It acts, indeed, as a board of advice to the min-
istry, but only until Parliament meets. At least, such are its
sentiments at present.

At the present time there is pre-

The Middle East. sented to view a series of politi-

cal permutations and combina-
tions which is, to say the least, interesting. Last year Persia
obtained a constitution, while Turkey still groaned under its
master's yoke ; this year it is Persia that is groaning under
the yoke, while Turkey has a constitution. The Shah, oblivi-
ous of his solemn oath, declared that what his fathers had
won by the sword, he would keep by the sword, and pro-
ceeded to batter down the house in which the Parliament was
assembled. He promised indeed to call a new Parliament ; but
he has deferred issuing the summons for so long a time — a
promise being less binding than an oath — and the disorder in
consequence has become so great, especially in the important
city of Tabriz, that Russia, of all countries in the world, to-
gether with Great Britain has called upon him to keep fidelity
towards his subjects. It is suggested that he should issue with-
out delay the promised proclamation ordering new elections.
The date even for the meeting of Parliament is indicated.
Times have, indeed, changed when the Autocrat of all the
Russias sends to admonish the King of Kings to keep his
plighted word and to submit to the reign of law — and that a
law dictated to him by his subjects.

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

DURING eleven weeks, ending September u, the Catholic Summer-
School, at Cliff Haven, N. Y., presented a varied programme of lec-
tures. Many forms of self-improvement were discussed, and plans arranged
for winter reading in the home circle. In conjunction with some of the lead-
ing subjects, a bibliography is given to encourage mature study. Members of
Reading Circles were stimulated to persevere in their efforts ; and the practi-
cal instructions for Catechists, arranged by B. Ellen Burke, have never been
surpassed at any gathering in the United States. The crowning joy of the
session came with the blessing sent by Pope Pius X., through Cardinal Merry
del Val, in a special letter to Bishop Gabriels. Financial aid for a broader
development is now the most urgent need of this intellectual center for
Catholics on Lake Champlain.

* * *

The Ozanam Association was organized with the object in view of bet-
tering the social and physical conditions of Catholic boys and young men, as
well as inculcating the moral and religious teachings of the Roman Catholic
Church in a manner that is thorough in method and permanent in result.

Mr. Thomas M. Mulry, the founder of the Association, is the president
of the Irish Emigrant's Bank, and has for over a decade been actively inter-
ested in philanthropic and benevolent works in Roman Catholic circles ; he
is the originator of the plan for establishing a chain ot boys' clubs located in
New York City, which would be sufficiently attractive to the rising generation
to draw them into the club rooms from the streets and more unattractive sur-
roundings. Gymnasia and baths are to be installed at every club room.
Competent physical directors to be in charge and every effort made to bring
the Roman Catholic youth of the city to the higher standard of physical,
moral, and spiritual well-being.

The spiritual director of the association is Mgr. James H. McGean, rector
of St. Peter's Church in Barclay Street. This movement, which is fostered
by the Roman Catholic clergy of the city, was greatly strengthened by the in-
creasing influence of some of the college settlements, which are believed by
Catholics to be weaning their growing boys away from the faith of their fa-
thers, the Roman Catholic Church.

Mr. Mulry, who is at the head of this movement, is a man who has lived
a full life. He was for years a successful contractor, and is thoroughly fa-
miliar with the labor situation in its every aspect, and the assisting of the
boy who works for his living is one of the main objects of the association.
Mr. Mulry is also the head of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul in New
York, whose central organization is at Paris, France.

Archbishop Farley, who is in full accord with the movement, sent the
following letter to the meeting at which the Ozanam Association was organ-
ized:

1908.] THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION 143

ARCHBISHOP'S HOUSE, 452 MADISON <AVE.,
NEW YORK CITY, July 15, 1908.

MY DEAR MR. MULRY : I heartily approve of the suggestions made by
you in the matter of caring for the Catholic boys of the city. The formation
of a society such as you have in mind under the patronage of the exemplary
and the saintly Ozanam is bound to accomplish much good, and will carry
with it God's choicest benedictions.

Under the special supervision of the Rt. Rev. Mgr. James H. McGean,
who is appointed spiritual director, this association will make strongly for the
spiritual welfare of our Catholic youth, and will by its very nature tend to
counteract the many baneful influences that constantly surround them and
will shield them from the dangers that await them in a great city like ours.

Praying for the society every success and blessing, I am faithfully yours
in Christ. JOHN M. FARLEY, Archbishop of New York.

The Association has acquired the Club House, which was founded by the
priests of Father Drumgoole's Mission, in West 56th Street, between Ninth
and Tenth Avenues, and there are buildings in Sullivan Street, and in i6th
Street, near Eighth Avenue, which are to be made over by the Association
into model and attractive club rooms for the boys. All this, however, is
only the beginning of what should prove one of the greatest movements ever
undertaken for the uplifting of the youth of the Catholic Church, and the
co-operation of the entire clergy of the city will be asked, although it is
probable it will not be necessary to install a club house in each parish.

The Ozanam Association requires the co-operation and support of all
good Roman Catholics in the city, and believes it is entitled to it, for the
future of the Church in New York depends upon the boys who are growing
up to-day, and who later on will be the power that moves for good or evil.

Although the Association is still in its infancy, it is apparent, that it will
receive the hearty support of the Catholic laity. One man of wealth has
volunteered to support at his own expense one of the boy's clubs, and many
other offers of assistance have been made. The Society of St. Vincent de
Paul has pledged itself to supply any deficit which may arise until such time
as the Ozanam Association shall be self-supporting.

To join the Association it is not necessary to be a member of any society,
as any one who is interested in the welfare and progress of the Roman Catho-
lic boys (our future men) will be welcomed. The annual dues are $5.00,
and those who wish to extend their support, but do not wish to be active
members, may become contributing members.

The officers of the Ozanam Association are: E. J. Cornellis, President;
Joseph P. Grace, First Vice-President; J. D. Underbill, Second Vice-Presi-
dent; John E. O'Brien, Secretary, and John G. O'Keefe, Treasurer.

Those composing the Board of Directors are: Patrick H. Bird, Edmond
J. Butler, Tenement House Commissioner, E. J. Cornellis, J. J. Deerey,
John J. Falahee, J. J. Fitzgerald, Joseph P. Grace, of Grace & Co., Henry
Heide, a well-known manufacturer, Thomas H. Kelly, George B. McGinnis,
James McGovern, Thomas M. Mulry, John E. O'Brien, Harold O'Connor,
Richard O'Gorman, John G. O'Keefe, Edward H. Peuguet, John J. Pullcjr,
J. Delmar Underbill, and John B. White.

144 BOOKS RECEIVED [Oct., 1908.]

The forwarders of this Association are bending every effort to make
these boys' clubs finally the finest organization of its kind and are studying
the various associations of like character, such as the Young Men's Christian
Association, et al, with the intention of adopting the best features of these
clubs and associations that would be of value to the Ozanam Association.

This Association really means so much for the Catholic youth of this
city, and will be such a powerful factor in maintaining the strength and
purity of the Roman Catholic Church, that it should receive the support of
all good Catholics, and every one who has the means should become a con-
tributing member at least, thus helping in a work that will strengthen the
very foundation of their religion. The address of the Secretary, Mr. John

E. O'Brien, is 375 Lafayette Street.

M. C. M.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York:

The Coming Harvest. By Rene Bazin. Translated by Edna K. Hoyt. Pp. 347. Price

$1.25.
ISAAC PITMAN & SONS, New York .

A Practical Course in Touch Typewriting. Oliver Edition. A Scientific Method of
Mastering the Keyboard by the Sense of Touch. By Charles E. Smith. Price 75 cents.
BENZIGER BROTHERS, New York :

Essays on the Apocalypse. By James J. L. Ratton. Pp. 177. Price $i net. Vittorino da
Feltre. A Prince of Teachers. By a Sister of Notre Dame. The St. Nicholas Series.
Illustrated. Pp. 173. Price 80 cents.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York :

Flower of the Dusk. By Myrtle Reed. Pp. iv.-34i. Price $1.50 net.
FR. PUSTET & Co., New York:

A Treatise of the Spiritual Life. Translated from the Latin. By the Rev. D. A. Dono-
van, O.C. Second Edition. Pp. x.-sis. Price $i.
P. J. KENEDY & SONS, New York :

A Catholic Historv of Alabama and the Floridas. By a Member of the Order of Mercy.

Vol.1. Pp.373.
J. SCHAEFER, New York:

Little Manual of St. John Berchmans' Altar-Boys' Society. Pp. 48. Paper. Price 10 cents

per copy ; 50 cents per dozen.
CATHOLIC LIBRARY ASSOCIATION, New York:

The Teachings of the Fathers on the Real Presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist. By the

Rev. P. Pourrat. Pp. 48. Paper. Price 15 cents.
FORDHAM UNIVERSITY PRESS, Fordham, New York:

The Catholic Mind. April 8 : Science and Her Counterfeit. July 22 : Status and Prop-
erty Rights of the Roman Catholic Church. Published Fortnightly. Price $i per
year ; 5 cents per copy.
ITALIAN-AMERICAN PRINTING COMPANY, NEW YORK:

What the Settlement Clubs Stand For. By the Rev. James B. Curry. Pamphlet. Pp. 12.
INTERNATIONAL CATHOLIC TRUTH SOCIETY, Brooklyn, N. Y.:

Religious Unrest: The Way Out. Pp.48. Paper. Price 10 cents.
GOVERNMENT PRINYING OFFICE, Washington, D. C.

Education in F< rmosa. Pamphlet. Bibliography of Education for 1907 . Pamphlet.
HENRY PHIPPS INSTITUTE, Philadelphia, Pa.:

Fourth Annnal Report of the Henry Phipps Institute for the Study, Treatment, and Preven-
tion of Tuberculosis— 1906-1907. Edited by Joseph Walsh. Pp. 430.
CATHOLIC UNIVERSE PUBLISHING COMPANY, Cleveland, Ohio:

Prayers at Mass for School Children. Pp. 30. Paper. Price $3 per 100.

A. PlCARD ET FlLS, PARIS:

Pie VI.— Sa Vie— son Pontifical (1717-1799). Par Jules Gendry. Tomes I. & II. Price
15 francs.

THE

s CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. LXXXVIII. NOVEMBER, 1908. No. 524.

THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY.

BY EDMUND G. GARDNER.

JTUDENTS of English poetry have been profoundly
interested in the recent publication, in the Dub-
lin Review, of an essay by Francis Thompson on
Shelley. It was indeed fitting that the author
of "The Hound of Heaven " and the "Ode to
the Setting Sun " should have paid so eloquent a tribute to the
poet of "Prometheus Unbound" and "Hellas." Nor was he
the first Catholic poet to do this. An exquisite critique of
Shelley by Aubrey de Vere is too little known. And even
the theologians have not left him unnoticed, as we may see in
the little volume De Dante a Verlaine, in which the French
Jesuit, Pere Pacheu, ably vindicates for the poet his place
among the idealists and mystics.

To me Shelley has always stood as the supreme [representa-
tive of pure poetry, and as something more. Robert Browning
well defined Shelley's " noblest and predominating characteris-
tic " to be "his simultaneous perception of Power and Love in
the absolute, and of Beauty and Good in the concrete." For
him Shelley's poetry was " a sublime fragmentary essay towards
a presentment of the correspondency of the universe to Deity,
of the natural to the spiritual, and of the actual to the ideal."
I have always read Shelley in the light of Browning's essay.
The juvenile atheism of " Queen Mab " may well be ignored.
What Professor Dowden says of the " Revolt of Islam " is
of far wider application : " Shelley's illusions were such as

IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 10

146 THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY [Nov.,

•
could now deceive no thinking mind. His generous ardors,

the quivering music of his verse, the quick and flamelike beauty
of his imagery still bear gifts for the spirits of men." Let it
be granted that his "passion for reforming the world" led
Shelley into many errors of theory and of practice ; that a cer-
tain crudeness and immaturity, inevitable, perhaps, from the
circumstances of his life, a remoteness and ethical impracticabil-
ity in his work, made him fall below that supreme height to
which in modern times only Dante and Shakespeare have at-
tained. The fact remains that, apart from the merely artistic
value of his poetry, Shelley was essentially a mystic; working
on a different plane from that upon which Dante habitually
moved in spirit, he gave expression to certain tendencies and
aspirations, which present striking analogies with those of many
of the mystics of the Catholic Church.

In his prose essay, " A Defence of Poetry," Shelley speaks
of "evanescent visitations of thought and feeling, sometimes as-
sociated with place or person, sometimes regarding our own
mind alone, and always arising unforeseen and departing un-
bidden." " It is," he says, " as it were the interpenetration
of a diviner nature through our own ; but its footsteps are like
those of a wind over the sea, which the coming calm erases,
and whose traces remain only as on the wrinkled sand which
paves it." His own shorter poems are the records of such
moods, such " evanescent visitations of thought and feeling," in
verse. Two of them, the "Ode to the West Wind*' and "To
a Skylark," are probably the most beautiful and most perfect
lyrics in the English language. They are not transcripts from
nature, but mystical interpretations of her phenomena. Wind
and bird alike become one with the poet's own yearnings. The
wind sounds " to unawakened earth the trumpet of a prophe-
cy " ; the lark, "like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun,"
is an unconscious symbol of the soaring of the human spirit
from the fetters of material things to gain the liberty of eternity.

There are two lines in the " Epipsychidion " which give the
key to Shelley's philosophy, and, indeed, to all mysticism :

" The spirit of the worm beneath the sod
In love and worship blends itself with God."

"Tell me, my soul," says Hugh of St. Victor in his " So-
liloquium," "what is it that thou lovest above all things? I

1908.] THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY 147

know that thy life is love, and I know that without love thou
canst not exist." Love, for the mystics, is the guide in their
quest of absolute truth and absolute beauty, to a state in which
the soul is permeated with the divine. Mysticism is the love-
illumined quest of the union of the soul with the suprasensible
— with the absolute — with that which is. The Christian mystic
finds the ultimate goal of this quest in the possession of the
Beatific Vision of the Divine Essence in eternity ; he attains
temporarily to an anticipation of it, in rare moments of spirit-
ual exaltation and ecstatic contemplation, in that half hour
during which there is silence in heaven ; in a foretaste of that
vision of God (such as came to St. Augustine and St. Monica
when, leaning in the window which looked into the garden of
the house at Ostia, they spoke together of the joys of the
blessed, or to Dante as he approached the end of all desires
at the close of the " Paradiso ") ; or in the spiritual espousals
of the soul with Christ, which St. Catherine of Siena and St.
Teresa experienced. The pantheistic mystic strives to reach
an analogous goal in the union of the human mind with the in-
forming spirit of love and beauty which he recognizes in na-
ture; when (in Wordsworth's phrase) the "discerning intellect
of man " is " wedded to this goodly universe in love and holy
passion."

Dante tells us in the " Convivio" (III. 2) that " Love, taken
truly and subtly considered, is nought else save spiritual union
of the soul with the thing loved ; to which union, of her own
nature, the soul runs swiftly or tardily according as she is free
or impeded. And because it is in the excellences of nature
that the divine principle reveals itself, it comes that the human
soul naturally unites herself with these in spiritual fashion, the
more swiftly and the more strongly in proportion as they ap-
pear more perfect."

Now these " excellences of nature " are united, as it were,
to form the deity of Shelley's creed. He conceives of a power
in nature, external to man, a power which is spirit, and which
he identifies with love and beauty, with light and benediction :

" That Light whose smile kindles the Universe,
That Beauty in which all things work and move,
That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse
Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love

148 THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY [Nov.,

•

Which through the web of being blindly wove
By man and beast and earth and air and sea,
Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of
The fire for which all thirst."

This " awful Loveliness," whose shadow " floats though un-
seen among us," Shelley formally invokes in the " Hymn to
Intellectual Beauty," the poem which marks the great spiritual
crisis of his early life, and which indicates his conversion from
the crude materialism and cruder pseudo-spiritualism of his
youth. As ideal beauty and divine love, she is given anthro-
pomorphic form in the great allegorical poems of his maturity,
from "Alastor" to "The Triumph of Life." It is to her,
personified in Asia, that the wonderful hymn of mystical long-
ing is addressed in "Prometheus Unbound":

" Life of Life ! thy lips enkindle

With their love the breath between them ;
And thy smiles before they dwindle

Make the cold air fire ; then screen them
In those looks, where whoso gazes
Faints, entangled in their mazes.

" Child of Light ! thy limbs are burning

Through the vest which seems to hide them;
As the radiant lines of morning

Through the clouds ere they divide them ;
And this atmosphere divinest
Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.

"Fair are others; none beholds thee,

But thy voice sounds low and tender
Like the fairest, for it folds thee

From the sight, that liquid splendour,
And all feel, yet see thee never,
As I feel now, lost forever !

" Lamp of Earth ! where'er thou movest
Its dim shapes are clad with brightness,

And the souls of whom thou lovest
Walk upon the winds with lightness,

Till they fail, as I am failing,

Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing ! "

I9Q8.J THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY i49

It is only after death that man can be perfectly " made one
with Nature," and become (like Keats in "Adonais") "a por-
tion of the loveliness":

"The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die,
If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek !
Follow where all is fled."

Yet man apparently can anticipate this even in life. The
whole fourth act of " Prometheus Unbound " shows us the
earth and the moon and all creation united to celebrate the
marriage of Prometheus and Asia, the union of man's soul
with this spirit of love and beauty in nature, as a state that
can actually be attained when evil is expelled from the uni-
verse— as Shelley believed that, theoretically at least, it could
be by the power of the human will — and " Love untainted by
any evil becomes the law of the world":

" Love, from its awful throne of patient power
In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour

Of dread endurance, from the slippery, steep,
And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs
And folds over the world its healing wings."

Certainly, there is much in such a creed that would need
but a slight modification to transmute it to the phraseology of
Catholic mysticism. But I would not attempt to minimize the
vast difference between a mysticism of which the goal is prac-
tically the annihilation of individual personality, or at least of
self-consciousness, and the mysticism according to which, when
the end is attained, consciousness of self is absorbed in the
vision of God, in which individuality is not destroyed, but
rendered perfect in the full realization of all its capacity of
knowing and loving.* It is true, of course, that in " Adonais,"
though the soul becomes "a portion of the Eternal" and "is
made one with Nature," the poet assures us that " the splendours
of the firmament of time" are not extinguished, and the per-

* Catholic readers need not be reminded of the classical treatment of this theme in St.
Bernard's " De Diligendo Deo."

150 THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY [Nov.,

sonalities of "the inheritors of unfulfilled renown" are pre-
served on their thrones, " far in the Unapparent " ; but Francis
Thompson, not unjustly, remarks on Shelley's " inexpressibly
sad exposition of pantheistic immortality," even though the
closing stanzas are " implicitly assuming the personal immortal-
ity which the poem explicitly denies."

We know how Dante found the divine love and the divine
beauty mirrored in the love and beauty of Beatrice; and how,
at the last, her spirit led his purified soul up through the nine
successive stages of illumination until he found the end of all
desires in union with the Divine Essence. Shelley wrote of
his " Epipsychidion " : " It is an idealized history of my life
and feelings. I think one is always in love with something or
other ; the error, and I confess it is not easy for spirits cased
in flesh and blood to avoid it, consists in seeking in a mortal
image the likeness of what is, perhaps, eternal." The "Epi-
psychidion," avowedly based in part upon Dante's philosoph-
ical love-poetry, is an attempt to put Shelley's mysticism into
practice; to identify the spirit of ideal beauty, which the high-
est part of his soul loved, with a living woman as its most
perfect earthly symbol, and ascend through her to the pos-
session of that spirit itself:

" There was a Being whom my spirit oft
Met on its visioned wanderings, far aloft,
In the clear golden prime of my youth's dawn,
Upon the fairy isles of sunny lawn,
Amid the enchanted mountains, and the caves
Of divine sleep, and on the air-like waves
Of wonder-level dream, whose tremulous floor
Paved her light steps ; — on an imagined shore,
Under the gray beak of some promontory,
She met me, robed in such exceeding glory
That I beheld her not. In solitudes
Her voice came to me through the whispering woods,
And from the fountains, and the odours deep
Of flowers, which, like lips murmuring in their sleep
Of the sweet kisses which had lulled them there,
Breathed but of her to the enamoured air;
And from the breezes whether low or loud,
And from the rain of every passing cloud,

i9o8.] THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY 151

And from the singing of the summer-birds,
And from all sounds, all silence. In the words
Of antique verse and high romance, — in form,
Sound, colour — in whatever checks that Storm
Which with the shattered present chokes the past;
And in that best philosophy, whose taste
Makes this cold common hell, our life, a doom
As glorious as a fiery martyrdom;
Her Spirit was the harmony of truth."

The result is one of the most beautiful love-poems ever
written ; but, as mysticism, the attempt breaks down, and the
poet acknowledges himself baffled :

" The winged words on which my soul would pierce
Into the height of Love's rare Universe,
Are chains of lead around its flight of fire —
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire ! "

Herein Shelley failed, however nobly, where Dante had —
albeit not unscathed — succeeded. No man may attain to the
last mystical heights of the paradise of Love who has not first
passed in spirit through hell and purgatory. And of the sym-
bolical purgatory, in the ecstatic pilgrimage of the soul through
time to eternity, Shelley never recognized the need.

It is, indeed, obvious that the spiritual ideal expressed in
the noble lines with which the "Prometheus" closes, setting
forth the "spells" whereby man is to retain the freedom that
he has won by the annihilation of evil in love's victory, com-
bines the passive virtues of Christianity with a perceptible
element of the pride of a Lucifer:

"To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night ;

To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;

Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory."

i$2 THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY [Nov

We can trace the development of Shelley's views on Chris-
tianity from " Queen Mab," the first of his philosophical poems
(which was, to some extent, repudiated by him in later years),
to " Hellas," the last of his poems published in his lifetime.
In " Queen Mab," the worship of the God of the Christian
creed is represented as the chief cause of the evil in the world.
We are given a parody of biblical history and teaching, cul-
minating in what can only be described as a blasphemous
caricature of the most sacred event in history. Shelley's whole
conception of Christ has altered in " Prometheus Unbound," in
which the Crucifixion is treated with all the reverence of which
the poet was capable. Christianity, "the faith He kindled," is
denounced because it has apostatized from the spirit of its
Founder, and the chief agony suffered by Him upon the Cross
is the knowledge of the evil deeds that Christians will perpe-
trate in His name.* In the " Ode to Liberty," written early
in 1820, Christianity is still "the Galilean serpent." f But in
"Hellas," which was composed in the latter part of 1821, the
poet's attitude has undergone a complete transformation. In
the wonderful unfinished prologue, Christ is triumphing over
Satan and Mahomet alike ; and in the famous chorus of the
Greek Captive Women, " Worlds on worlds are rolling ever,"
hymning the "Promethean conqueror" and "the folding-star
of Bethlehem," the poet bids us note that " the popular notions
of Christianity are represented as true in their relation to the
worship they superseded, and that which in all probability they
will supersede, without considering their merits in a relation
more universal":

" A power from the unknown God,
A Promethean conqueror, came ;
Like a triumphal path he trod
The thorns of death and shame.
A mortal shape to him
Was like the vapour dim

Which the orient planet animates with light ;
Hell, Sin, and Slavery came,
Like bloodhounds mild and tame,

* Cj. Act I., 546-555. 597-6i5.

t There is, however, no shadow of foundation for Mr. Swinburne's conjecture that in line
212 Shelley originally wrote " Christ," where the Boscombe MS. reads : " Oh, that the free
would stamp the impious name of KING into the dust ! "

i9o8.] THE MYSTICISM OP SHELLEY 153

Nor preyed, until their Lord had taken flight;

The moon of Mahomet

Arose, and it shall set:
While blazoned as on Heaven's immortal noon

The cross leads generations on.

" Swift as the radiant shapes of sleep

From one whose dreams are Paradise
Fly, when the fond wretch wakes to weep,
And Day peers forth with her blank eyes;
So fleet, so faint, so fair,
The Powers of earth and air
Fled from the folding-star of Bethlehem !
Apollo, Pan, and Love,
And even Olympian Jove

Grew weak, for killing Truth had glared on them;
Our hills and seas and streams,
Dispeopled of their dreams,

Their waters turned to blood, their dew to tears,
Wailed for the golden years."

Yet, even in "Hellas," we have but to turn to the conclud-
ing chorus, anticipating a period of regeneration for humanity
in a new golden age, and read the poet's own note upon it,
concerning "the sublime human character of Jesus Christ,"
"this most just, wise, and benevolent of men," to see that he
was still a long way from a full intellectual appreciation of
the religion of Christ :

"Saturn and Love their long repose

Shall burst, more bright and good
Than all who fell, than One who rose,

Than many unsubdued:
Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,
But votive tears and symbol flowers."

No doubt, there were many things in Shelley's somewhat
nebulous creed that separated him from Christianity ; but
among them, more particularly, was his conviction that evil
was something purely external to man, "a mere accident that
might be expelled," that he could do away with by the sim-
ple exercise of his own will. As Mary Shelley puts it:

154 THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY [Nov.,

•
"Shelley believed that mankind had only to will that there

should be no evil, and there would be none." All attempts to
fetter the free impulses of the human spirit were thus tyranny
or superstition. There could be no such thing as sin (in the
Catholic sense of the word); and, therefore, theoretically at
least, "neither to change, nor falter, nor repent," was a duty.
The soul unaided could reach her natural state of perfect liberty
and innocence — the state to which Dante only attains at the
end of the "Purgatorio," after he has passed through the purg-
ing fire of the last terrace of the mountain.

There is always a certain temptation to a student of letters
to find the influence of one of his two favorite poets reflected
in the work of the other. It has, indeed, been not unreason-
ably suggested that the reading of the " Divina Commedia"
(in which Shelley must have come into contact with Catholic
philosophy for the first time) had the chief part in modifying
his earlier views of Christianity; his admirable criticism of the
" Paradiso," alike in the "Defence of Poetry" and in the
" Triumph of Life/' shows how well he had comprehended the
spirit of Dante's divinest work. The "Triumph of Life," the
sublime poem upon which Shelley was engaged at the time of
his death, though modeled upon the "Trionfi" of Petrarch, is
far more Dantesque than Petrarchan in tone, and its abrupt
ending opens many questions as to the possible ultimate de-
velopment of the poet's views on man and his destiny.

Like the "Divina Commedia" itself, the "Triumph of
Life " is an allegory in the form of a vision. It describes how
Life — a terrible and mysterious figure throned in the car of
which blinded Destiny urges on the winged steeds — triumphs
over man when overcome by passion or by error. Not only
have the slaves ef carnal vice become subject to its cruel yoke,
but even "the wise, the great, the unforgotten," are chained to
the car, men mighty once in thought or in action, whose "lore
taught them not this, to know themselves." In vain does the
mystical spirit of the poet's creed, that personification of ideal
love and ideal beauty, appear to man "in the April prime";
she is obscured in life's pageant, eclipsed by the icy coldness
of its tempestuous splendor, when he has drunken of her cup
and yet turned away from her. A vast cloud of phantoms and
shadows, symbolizing the conceptions of men's minds, darkens
all the grove wherein the pageant is enacted, quenching hopes

J9o8.] THE MYSTICISM OF SHELLEY 155

and aspirations, working misery in young and old, and becom-
ing ever more terribly distorted as the course of time proceeds
— until joy dies away and the victim, grown weary of the
struggle, falls exhausted by the wayside. And upon this pic-
ture the poem abruptly closes: "Then, what is life? I cried."
It is but a fragment; but its magnificent music, its lofty
thought, and the beauty and splendor of its imagery, make it
one of the greatest fragments in all literature. And, with this
question on his lips, the poet passed into the other world.

Two diametrically different interpretations have been given
of the "Triumph of Life." According to the one, Shelley's
opinions were quite unchanged, and his philosophy of man un-
shaken; it is "a recognition of the price that even the great-
est idealist must pay to reality; it is the cost, not the failure,
of the ideal philosophy that is here allegorically represented."*
According to the other (with which I find myself in general
agreement), the poem represents a complete, albeit it might
have proved but temporary, abandonment of the poet's former
philosophical position. It is a poem of disillusion. Experience
has taught him that man cannot get rid of evil by the simple
exercise of will; unaided, he falls, and has to acknowledge
defeat, not through the mere agency of external circumstances,
but by deeper defects within himself : f " I was overcome by
my own heart alone."

For the first time in Shelley's poetry, we find in this, his
last work, a recognition of the possibility of something analo-
gous to the Catholic conception of personal sin, and a place
seems left in his philosophy for the need of a Redeemer.
Speculations, like those of Browning and Matthew Arnold, as
to the direction in which his thoughts on religion might ulti-
mately have tended, are, after all, very bootless. "The Spirit
breatheth where he will." Yet those of us who have fallen
under the spell of the unique fascination of Shelley's poetry,
who have felt our sense of the spiritual no less than the ma-
terial beauty of the universe quickened by his words, may,
perhaps, be pardoned for the attempt to bring it and them
into some sort of harmony with la verita che tanto ci sublima.\

*H. S. Salt, Percy Bysshe Shelley: Poet and Pioneer, pp. 119-120.

tC/. Dr. J. Todhunter's essay on the "Triumph of Life," and his excellent Study of
Shelley.

t Dante, " Par." XXII. 42 : "The truth that doth so much exalt us."

IN THE SIERRA MADRE.

BY CHRISTIAN REID.
I.

N the western side of Mexico, in the midst of the
great dominating mountain range, which stretches
its lordly length in an unbroken chain from north
to south, lies one of the few regions of primeval
wildness and grandeur still remaining on the face
of the earth. High uplifted in crystal air, and bathed in mists
from the bosom of the vast Pacific, it is a marvelous world of
greenness, freshness, and delight, of hanging woods and singing
waters, where no wheel has ever rolled, where the traveler
journeys on horseback or muleback along precipitous mountain
sides, with verdure-filled gulfs far below, across great highland
plateaus, covered with majestic forest, level and open as a royal
park, or down rock-strewn quebradas, where the tumultuous
rivers rush from their birthplace in the clouds. And through
these scenes he may journey from sunrise to sunset without
encountering any one save perhaps an occasional horseman, or
a few trains of pack- mules with their arrieros — dark, sinewy,
Arab-like men, who follow the laden animals on foot, and whose
whistles, admonitions, and cries alone break the silence of the
mighty hills.

Such a traveler was a man who had been riding in the Si-
erra for three days, exchanging only the salutations of the road
with these occasional wayfarers. By his dress he appeared to
belong to the country, but by his face to another nationality,
and the farther he plunged into the wonderful wilds, the more
a certain somber shadow lifted from his countenance and his
aspect became that of one at peace with himself, as if the great
peace of nature which encompassed him, soothed some inward
sore and hurt, and calmed his spirit. He was mounted on a
fine mule, and his equipment would have indicated a person of
importance, but for the fact that in Mexico persons of impor-
tance do not ride on long journeys without attendants, and he
was entirely alone.

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 157

This loneliness evidently caused him no concern, however,
not even on the third day, when having turned from the trails
which lead between the cities and towns of the east, and the
villages and mining camps on the western side of the great
range, he found himself in a region where not even pack-trains
and arrieros were to be met, where no sight or sound of man
broke the deep spell of the solitudes which encompassed him.
Through the long day he had ridden, with an ever deepening
content in the Sierra, in its ineffable remoteness, its austere
majesty, its high upliftedness; and the approach of sunset found
him in an arroyo between great heights, where the trail led
along a narrow shelf of granite across the face of a towering
cliff. Sheer and steep the mountain dropped hundreds of feet
below, and in the dark green depths, which no ray of sunlight
ever pierced, a cataract poured its unseen waters, filling the
mighty chasm with a sound like thunder. A single misstep on
the perilous path would have sent mule and rider crashing down,
never to be seen or heard of again. But if the latter gave a
thought to this possibility, there was no sign of it in his in-
different glance at the tops of the tall pines far below, which
hid even so much as a glimpse of the thunderous waters. Pres-
ently he spoke aloud to his mule :

" If it were not for thee, amigo, I should halt for the night
as soon as we reach the end of this arroyo ; but I know thy
stomach craves something more than grass to fill it, and, un-
less I have missed my way, the house I am in search of must
be near here."

The mule, planting his feet with great care on the narrow
ledge, pricked up his ears, as if to indicate that he understood,
and when he finally found himself on safer ground, stepped out
with a quickness which for once was not due to the spur.

And then, turning around the great flank of the mountain,
the traveler saw opening before him a small valley, surrounded
by steep heights densely clothed with forest. Here was a lit-
tle cultivated land, and here also stood a house that he had
little doubt was the one of which he was in search. It was a
rough structure, built of logs, as all houses are in the Sierra,
with a ramada thatched with pine boughs in front, under which
a woman was milking a cow.

As he rode up, she rose and stood before him, draped in
the picturesque folds of her reboso. She was young, tall, vig-

158 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

orous, supple yet straight as an arrow, a true daughter of the
native races, undiluted by a drop of white blood. Her com-
plexion was of a soft olive-brown tint, her features were clear-
cut, her eyes dark and lustrous, and her whole expression of
blended gentleness and dignity. The man who looked at her
was familiar with the fine type of the Mayas, who are the orig-
inal race still inhabiting this region ; but he thought that he
had never before seen a human creature whose appearance
seemed so perfectly in harmony with her surroundings, as that
of this daughter of the Sierra. It was as if the scenes through
which he had been passing, with their freshness, their remote-
ness, their ineffable sylvan charm, all found expression in this
woman with the form of a Greek goddess and the eyes of a
woodland fawn.

" Buenos dias, senorita," he said. " Is this the house of
Miguel Lopez ? "

"Si, senor"; she replied in a voice the softness of which
matched the softness of her eyes.

"And you are — "

"His daughter, Ramona Lopez — at your service, senor."

" My name is Trescott, senorita. I met your father some
time ago at San Andres, and it was arranged that when I
came into this part of the Sierra I should stop at his house.
Is he at home ? "

"Not now, senor. But he will be here in a short time, and
meanwhile his house is yours."

Trescott, who had had many houses presented to him in
Mexico, murmured his thanks, dismounted, placed his blankets
under the ramada and then proceeded to unsaddle his mule,
the tall girl showing him where to find some of the dry fod-
der which serves for the food of animals. Several other women
— mother, sisters, sisters-in-law — now appeared, attended by a
number of children ; and presently Miguel Lopez and his stal-
wart sons arrived from the hills beyond, where they had been
cutting timber. The old Mexican greeted the stranger with
cordial hospitality, and made him welcome to the family tor-
tillas and frijoles, as well as to a corner wherein to spread his
blankets on the floor.

"Who is he?" Miguel said when questioned concerning
him. " How should I know more than that he is one of the
Americanos who are in the Sierra looking for metal ? When I

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 159

met him in San Andres — thou knowest, Pedrito, it was when
we took in the madera for the Santa Catalina Mine — he asked
me if in my work I had ever seen any traces of gold. I told
him that I knew of a ledge rich in gold, which no one but
myself had seen, and no man had yet touched. He wanted
muestras from it, and I sent him some by Jose Chavero when
he went to San Andres. They were fine muestras, and so he
has come to see the mine for himself."

" But if thou hast really found gold, why shouldst thou show
the mine to him?" asked Pedro, the eldest son. " Thou know-
est what gringos are. If it is of value, he will go and denounce
it, and we will have nothing."

"Pedrito, thou art a fool!" returned the father. "Even if
I have found a mine, what can I do with it ? Only eyes are
needed to see the metal in the rocks, but to tell its value one
must know much, and to find the money with which to take
it out — that is a task too hard for a poor woodman of the
Sierra. I have carried muestras to San Andres, to Topia, and
to Canelas, but no one has thought enough of them to come
here to seek the mine. Now at last this Americano has come,
so I will show him the ledge and will only ask a half interest
in what he finds."

" He will not give it to thee," observed another son.
" We shall see," Miguel replied. " But whatever he gives
will be more than we can make without him. For they love
gold much, these gringos, and they work hard to get it."

This being an incontestable general truth, there seemed no
reason to doubt its accuracy in the present particular applica-
tion, so even Pedro the sceptical, was silenced, and Miguel was
left to conduct his negotiations with the newcomer as he thought
fit.

But in the course of a few days the old Mexican became
aware that fate had sent him a very strange gringo indeed.
With the usual variety of the species — alert, sharp men who
possess no manners worth speaking of, who exhibit a rough
contempt for all habits and standards which differ from their
own, and who search with fierce intensity for the precious
metal which they hold at a value far transcending that of their
souls — he was familiar. It is a variety very well known in
Mexico, and considered to be representative of the genus
Americano. But here was a man of a totally different type —

160 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

quiet, gentle, courteous as any Mexican, with a singular air of
indifference towards everything, even the gold which he had
come so far to seek. He agreed without chaffering to the
terms which Miguel advanced, and when the latter conducted
him to the ledge of rock from which he had broken the speci-
mens of ore, and where signs of free gold were plain to a
practised eye, there was none of the excitement about him
which such finds usually produce, even in those most accus-
tomed to them.

" It will do," he said. " It is a good prospect. I will open
it, and if it proves to be what it promises, we will take out a
title."

" It is rich metal," said Miguel, holding out on his brown,
toil-worn palm some fragments of the disintegrated quartz. "I,
too, have been in the mines ; I worked in the patio of the
Santa Catalina when I was a boy, and I know good metal when
I see it."

" I believe that every Mexican is a born miner," Trescott
said. " If you and your sons can do some work here under
my direction, there is no need to bring any one else into the
matter."

" There is no need at all," replied Miguel. "We will do
the work ourselves. Have I not known of this ledge for two
years, and have I not waited for some one who could help me
to open it, telling no man, not even my sons, where it was ?
And now that I have found you, senor, shall I risk the loss
of the mine by letting anybody know of it, until it is de-
nounced ? No ; tell us what to do, and we will do it, my sons
and I."

" Very good," said Trescott. " We can go to work at
once."

But he said it without eagerness, and indeed his listener
almost fancied there was a tone of disappointment in his voice.
He directed the work, however, as one who knew thoroughly
what he was about, and in a short time the result fully justi-
fied his judgment. The vein laid bare was wide and promis-
ing and carried free gold in large quantities. But if the pros-
pect thus opened elated him in any degree there was no sign
of such elation. While old Miguel and his sons worked with
what, for Mexicans, was feverish energy, he looked quietly on,
or strolled away for hours into the Sierra, or else remained

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 161

near the house, stretched out under a tree smoking, while his
gaze followed Ramona as she moved about her tasks, or sat
at work under the pine-thatched ramada.

Yet in this persistent gaze there was not only nothing im-
pertinent or bold, but little of what is usually termed admira-
tion. The tired eyes simply rested on her as on a sight full
of infinite suggestions of repose. Her noble beauty, at once
gentle and stately, and the naturalness which in its perfection
is only found in very young children and primitive races, made
her aspect as soothing as the wild freshness of nature itself to
the world-weary man. Now and again her fawn-like eyes met
his own with a wondering regard ; but for the most part she
seemed either unaware of, or perfectly indifferent to, his scru-
tiny. And this unconsciousness was in itself a charm. As he
watched her, some lines, long dormant in memory, ran through
his mind like a haunting melody :

" And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute, insensate things."

It was perhaps because he feared to break the spell of this
"breathing balm "that he made no effort to converse with her,
for he knew, or supposed he knew, that the pleasure which her
appearance gave him was not likely to be increased by anything
she might say. And on her side, Ramona did not manifest the
least desire to say anything at all. But one day when he came
in from the mine, she brought him a cup of agua fresca — a
general name for many refreshing drinks which Mexican wo-
men prepare — and as he drank this while she stood before him,
he felt a sudden desire to hear the soft tones of her voice.

"You are very kind," he said. "I am afraid that I give
you much trouble."

" No, senor " ; she answered simply, " you give us no trou-
ble. I am only sorry that we can do so little for your com-
fort. I know that you are not used to live as we live here in
the Sierra."

"Don't be sorry," he said, "for it is what I like, to live
as you live. I am never so well satisfied as when I am out in
the Sierra, sleeping under a tree, with my saddle for a pillow
and my mule picketed beside me."

Ramona looked at him for a moment without replying, and

VOL. UCXXVUI. — II

1 62 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

then, with the same grave simplicity, she said : " The sefior has
perhaps some great sorrow."

He glanced at her surprised. " Why do you say that ? "
he asked.

As her eyes met his own, he saw in them the best of all
intelligence, that which springs from pure compassion.

" Because," she answered, " the sefior seems sad and to care
little for anything. It is so, I know, with those who have had
great trouble."

" I have brought trouble on myself," he said ; " and when
a man has done that, he has no right to complain."

"You do not complain, senor; but one can see that you
are sad."

" More bitter than sad," he replied. " And yet less bitter
now than for many a long day before. The Sierra has done
much for me — and you are a part of the Sierra."

" I wish," she said with wistful gentleness, " that I could
do more."

He smiled at her gratefully.

" You have done more than any one else," he said. " And
you are doing it still. You are still breathing balm into my
wounds, although you know nothing about them and it is not
necessary that you should know."

" I have no wish to know," she said earnestly. "What I
should like would be to help you to forget them."

" And so you do — you and the Sierra," he said. " Here
among the mountains and the forest, the world of my old ex-
istence seems far away, and I feel as if it were possible that
life might be again something besides a curse. But I must not
talk in this way to you/' he added, as he saw the gathering
wonder in her eyes. "You don't understand, and God forbid
that you ever should. Yet, to make you understand a little —
don't you think that if a soul from hell could come and wander
in these cool, green, silent woods it would be glad, and even
forget somewhat the flames in which it had lain?"

"Yes, senor "; she whispered fearfully, crossing herself — for
truly this was dreadful talk — "I am sure it would."

" I know it — for I am that soul," he said. " Hell itself has
no flames worse than some memories. But here I forget — a
little. Here nature soothes me with her great peace ; and you,
Ramona, speak with her voice and look at me with her eyes.

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 163

Have you anything to do just now? No? Then sit down and
talk to me. It has been long since I have had the least desire
to talk to any one before."

II.

In this manner was laid the foundation of an association
which, strange and incongruous as it appeared, had in it the
only vital principle which can cause any association to endure,
and that is sympathetic comprehension. Ramona did not talk
very much, habitually indeed she inclined to a silence which
Trescott found as restful as everything else about her, but when
she spoke it was always with simplicity and good sense, and
sometimes she startled him by an altogether unconscious poetry
of feeling and expression. He on his part, who had long been
so silent that his countrymen spoke of him as " morose/1 while
the Mexicans called him El Mudito (the dumb one), now as-
tonished himself by talking much, and if it was in a strain and,
frequently, on subjects which Ramona only partially under-
stood, her interest, at least, never varied and her sympathy
never failed. The last her dark eyes always spoke eloquently,
and the man who thought he had outgrown the need, as he
had lost the hope, of this divine solace, was like one who find-
ing a crystal spring after long, thirsty journeying can scarcely
be satisfied with drinking of it. He knew that she compre-
hended only a portion of all that he expressed, and that there
was unexpressed within him a whole world of thought and
emotion which she could not comprehend at all; but this con-
sciousness did not lessen his pleasure in her companionship.
What he longed for was, as far as possible, to forget every-
thing complex, and bathing his spirit in the great peace of
nature and, in this association with one who knew only what
nature had taught, to become himself the primitive man, living
only in simple, primitive things, instead of the uneasy heir of
a worn-out civilization.

So the days went on, as days go on in the Sierra, marked
only by the rising and setting of the sun behind the great,
forest-clad heights, until it was two months since Trescott had
ridden up to the door of the mountain dwelling and Ramona
had risen from her milking to greet him. During this time the
work on the mine had been carried on by Miguel and his sons,
and the vein so increased in width and richness as they opened

1 64 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

it that there was no longer any excuse for deferring that pro-
cess of acquiring title which is called " denouncing.'1 Trescott
acknowledged this with reluctance, for the rinding of such a
mine had been far from his expectation when he made Miguel's
muestras an excuse for plunging into the remote wilds of the
Sierra. But the unexpected had happened, that which he had
ceased to desire had fallen into his indifferent grasp, and now
the steps to be taken in regard to it rendered it necessary for
him to return to those haunts of men which his soul abhorred.
There was, however, no alternative to doing so, for his delays
and procrastinations at last roused the suspicion of Miguel, who
plainly demanded the fulfilment of their agreement.

" You are right, amigo" Trescott admitted. " You have
worked hard, and it is time that you should have the reward
of your labor. I will denounce the mine and then see what
can be done with it. But I am sorry to leave the Sierra."

"There is no reason why you should not return to the
Sierra, senor," returned the other, " but with the vein exposed
as it is now there is great danger of losing the mine if it is
not denounced."

" It lies in a place so remote that there is hardly a possi-
bility of any one rinding it," Trescott remarked.

The Mexican shook his head. "Who can tell?" he said.
" Some arriero searching for a stray mule might any day come
across it."

" But there are few trails, and therefore few pack-trains
passing in this part of the Sierra."

" You are mistaken, senor. There are trails, known only to
the arrieros, which shorten the way between Santiago Papas-
quiero and San Andres or Topio, and some of them pass very
near us. Often when I am out in the Sierra I meet the trains,
and there is one arriero who seldom fails to spend the night
with us when he is on the road. That is Cruz Sanchez. He
comes to seek my daughter, Ramona."

"Ah!" said Trescott. "He comes to seek Ramona?"

"He has sought her long," Miguel went on, "but she is a
fool and will have nothing to say to him."

" A woman is not always a fool because she will have
nothing to say to a man," Trescott observed. " It is best to
leave her to decide for herself."

He spoke carelessly enough, but as he walked away he was

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 165

astonished at the indignation with which he recalled the words,
"He comes to seek my daughter, Ramona." And yet he knew
well that there was no reason for indignation. It was not only
natural that any one should seek Ramona, but it was also en-
tirely suitable that the daughter of a woodman of the Sierra
should be sought by an arriero. But when he thought of the
girl as he knew her, of her beauty of form which was but an
index to the beauty of spirit which, he felt sure, he alone had
ever discerned, it seemed a thing little short of sacrilege that
there should be even a question of her passing into the pos-
session of such a one as he knew the man spoken of must be.
"A common peon!" he said to himself angrily, and then gave
a short laugh at his own folly. For what prospect was there
for Ramona Lopez but to become the wife of a common peon,
either this man or another?

It was one of the coincidences of life that when Trescott
returned somewhat later than usual from the mine that even-
ing he found a pack-train camped near the house, and leaning
against one of the rough supports of the shed, talking to
Ramona, as she knelt grinding the meal for tortillas^ was a
man whom it was not difficult to identify as the suitor to
whom, according to her father, she would have nothing to say.

At present certainly she was in a literal sense saying noth-
ing, but, with her rafostf-covered head bent, was apparently
intent on her task. To make amends for her silence the man
was talking vehemently, but as Trescott drew near he suddenly
ceased speaking, cast a look of animosity towards him, and
stalked away to his mules.

Trescott sat down on the section of a tree-trunk which
served for a chair, and looked at the kneeling figure, grinding
corn on the metate as the Aztec women were grinding it when
the first white man entered the land. Presently he saw the
end of the blue rebozo used to wipe away a tear.

"Ramona," he said, "what is the matter?"

She lifted her face towards him, but shook her head instead
of answering, and then resumed her work.

"Tell me," he said, after waiting a moment. "You know I
am your friend, and that I will do anything in my power to
help you."

"Yes, senor"; she answered, speaking very low, "but there
is nothing you can do — nothing at all."

1 66 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

"Let me judge of that/1 he returned. "Only tell me what
troubles you." He paused again for an instant, but she kept
silence, so he went on: "I can guess what it is. The man
who was talking to you when I came has been annoying

She glanced up quickly now, with a frightened expression.

"Be careful, senor," she whispered. "If he heard you he
would be very angry, and he is a dangerous man, one whom
it is ill to anger."

"I can well believe that," Trescott replied. "But because
he is a man of the kind is all the more reason that he should
not be allowed to trouble you. Tell me," he repeated a little
impatiently now, "is it that he urges on you a suit for which
you do not care?"

" Yes " ; she answered sadly, " and it is more than that.
My father says that I must marry him."

Trescott was conscious of a shock. "Why does your father
say that?" he asked. "Have you ever promised to marry him?"

"Never"; she answered with the same air of sadness. "I
have always refused, and for that my father has often told me
that I was a fool. But now he says that he will have no
more of such folly, that it is time for me to be married, and
that I must take Cruz — it is Cruz Sanchez, the arriero, sefior —
at once."

"Your father — " Trescott paused abruptly. "Well, we
won't talk of him ! Only tell me — do you care for this man
at all?"

She looked at him again, and he read absolute truth and
sincerity in her eyes.

"No, senor"; she answered earnestly. "I have never loved
him — and now I would rather die than be his wife."

" Then, by God, you shall not be ! " said Trescott — and the
words were less an oath than a solemn affirmation uttered in
the highest of all names. " I will speak to your father."

"No, senor"; she cried quickly. "You must not do that.
It will be of no use. My father will not change, and if Cruz
knew—"

But Trescott was already gone. He had caught sight of
Miguel on the farther side of the house, and striding up to
him plunged at once into the subject of the compulsion he was
exercising towards his daughter. "There might have been some

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 167

excuse for it some time ago," he said, " but you know that in
the mine out yonder there is gold enough to provide for all
your family, and that your daughter can do much better than
to marry this arriero"

"That may be true, senor"; Miguel replied, "but it will
be a Jong time before we handle any of the gold of the mine,
while Cruz has been seeking my daughter for many months;
and she is foolish and does not know her own niind — "

"On the contrary/' Trescott interrupted, "she knows her
own mind perfectly, and it was only to-day that you told me
she would have nothing to say to the man. Yet now you want
to compel her to marry him."

" And why not ? " returned the other quietly. " After a
woman is married it is all the same, one man or another.
And there are reasons why I must do as Cruz wishes."

" Ah, now we come to it ! " said Trescott. " And pray
what are those reasons ? For there are pretty strong reasons
why you should do as / wish, and I certainly do not wish,
and do not intend, that your daughter shall be treated in this
manner."

The masterful tone made Miguel for the first time show
signs of irritation. He looked at the speaker from under bent
brows.

" And what is my daughter to you, sefior ? " he asked
significantly.

" Nothing," Trescott answered. " But she has been kind to
me, and I am determined that she shall not be forced against
her will to marry that man yonder."

Miguel was silent for a moment, looking at the blazing
camp-fire a hundred or so yards distant and at the figures
moving around it, busy with the packs and mules. Then his
glance returned to the American.

" If you must know the truth, senor," he said, what I feared
has happened. Cruz has seen the mine."

" How do you know ? " Trescott asked.

" From himself," the other answered. " When he came this
evening he spoke to me again about my daughter, and I told
him that he must talk to her, for that I had nothing to do
with a woman's whims, so he grew angry and said that I was
putting him off because I was expecting to be rich and look
higher for her. Then I laughed at him, and he said I need

1 68 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

not laugh for he had seen where I was at work at something
beside cutting trees out in the Sierra, and that he had taken
muestras to Topia and showed them to the senor who assays
for the Madrugada Mine, and that he said they were rich in
gold."

"Your friend Cruz is very much the rascal which I judged
him to be from his face. And then — ?"

" Then he said plainly that if I did not let him have Ra-
mona, he would give information to the authorities that I was
working a mine in the Sierra without denouncement. I did
not wish to have trouble, and there is no reason why Ramona
should not marry him, so I told her that she must do so."

" You are a contemptible coward," said Trescott, " to let
yourself be bullied by a scoundrel, in the first place ; and to
be willing to sell your daughter to keep him quiet, in the
second. Well, he shall not have the girl; and as for the mine,
I will start for San Andres to-morrow and file my application
for title at once. Meanwhile you understand that it is very
much to your interest to keep me for your friend, and if you
wish to do so you must tell him that you will not force your
daughter to marry him."

Miguel looked as if he did not at all relish complying with
this imperative command.

"Cruz is an ill man to cross, senor," he said slowly. "It
will be well to wait — "

" And leave your daughter to be annoyed by him ?" Tres-
cott interrupted. "No; you must send him about his business
immediately. I insist upon it."

" Miguel shrugged his shoulders. "It is to make an enemy,"
he said, " but I will do as you wish."

No more than this was said, but Trescott was not long left
in doubt how much of an enemy he, at least, had made. It
was an hour or so later that, as he sat outside the house smok-
ing, the arriero approached him. There was a certain insolence
and also a certain dignity — the dignity which his race seldom
lacks — in the man's manner as he paused before the American,
who, on his part, did not stir as he looked up at the dark, an-
gry face.

" I am told, senor," Cruz said, " that you have forbidden
Miguel to give his daughter to me, and I want to know what
right you have to interfere in the matter ? "

i9o8.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 169

"That is a question easily answered," Trescott replied cool-
ly. " I have the right which every man possesses of protecting
a woman from a brute."

"A brute, senor?"

" A brute undoubtedly. What else can one call a man who
tries to force a woman to marry him when he knows that she
is unwilling to do so?"

The anger on the arriero's face deepened.

" She was not unwilling before you came," he said.

" That is a lie," Trescott returned with unmoved coolness.
"You know that she was always unwilling; and because you
could not win her like a man, you have tried to gain your end
by working on her father with threats, which are those of a
fool as well as those of a scoundrel."

There was a moment's silence. It was doubtful in that mo-
ment whether or not the knife for which Trescott was looking
would appear. Although he did not move a muscle, he was
ready for it had it appeared ; and the Mexican was probably
aware of this. Therefore he contented himself with saying sig-
nificantly :

" I am not so much of a fool as to be unable to fulfil any
threat I make. Miguel shall know what it is to break his word
to me at the bidding of a gringo — and others shall know, too."

Trescott rose.

"If Miguel is no more afraid of your threats than I am,"
he said, " he will sleep soundly. Go back to your mules, horn-
bre, and know your place. This is simply insolence and folly."

He turned and walked away, disdainfully careless of the blade
which might have found its way so readily into that fatal spot
between the shoulders which the Mexican peon knows so well.

But he had not gone far — while Cruz, with a curse sincere
and deep, returned to his mules — when a figure emerged from
the darkness in the immediate neighborhood of the house and
laid a hand on his arm.

"Senor," Ramona whispered, "I have heard what you said
to Cruz. " It is good of you to try to save me; but if in sav-
ing me you go into danger, it is more than I can bear. And
there is danger, senor, in angering him. He would put his
knife into you as soon as not."

" He must be very quick with his knife if I am not quicker
with a bullet," Trescott answered lightly. "There is no dan-

1 70 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Nov.,

ger of anything of the kind, Ramona. I have spoken to your
father, and he has told this man that he must take your an-
swer. He will trouble you no more."

" I would rather he troubled me than that he was your
enemy, senor," she returned earnestly. " To marry him is not
what I desire, but I would sooner marry him than that he
should perhaps kill you — "

" Bah ! " Trescott interposed with a laugh, which did not
spring entirely from his desire to reassure her. He was hon-
estly scornful of a peon's enmity, when directed against him-
self. " He will not kill me, and you shall not be driven by
threats to marry him. You are far too good for him, or any
one like him."

" It is you, senor, who are good to think so well of me,"
she said. " But no one else ever thought such things, and if
you had not come I must have married Cruz at last, so why
should I not marry him now, rather than that you should put
yourself in danger for one so humble as I ? "

" There is no possible reason why you shouldn't marry him
to-morrow if you want to do so," Trescott answered shortly ;
"but why on earth you couldn't have said so at first, instead of
making .me believe that you were averse to him, I don't see ! "

" Senor ! " The girl's voice had a frightened note in it, for
he had never spoken in the least degree roughly to her before,
and that he should do so now seemed more than she could
bear. " I would sooner die than marry him, but it would be
better for me even to die than that he should murder you."

"But I don't intend that he shall murder me," Trescott
repeated. " Set your mind at rest about that. And if he
should try by means of such threats to work upon you after
I am gone — "

She drew back as from a blow.

" Senor ! — you are going away ? "

" Only to San Andres to denounce the mine. But re-
member that I shall come back soon; and if they attempt to
force you, don't give way."

Ramona did not seem to hear the last words. "You will
ride to San Andres — alone through the Sierra?" she gasped.
" Oh, if you do, you will never come back. Think of the
crosses along the way, to tell where men have been killed !
And Cruz knows every path and short cut through the hills — "

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 171

" Cruz also knows very well that if I did not shoot him,
he would be shot by the rurales within ten days, if he mur-
dered me," Trescott said coolly. " Have no fear, I shall come
back safely enough."

" No, no " ; she cried, and she suddenly sank on her knees
at his feet. " Oh, senor, do not go — do not go ! You will be
killed— and for me ! "

"And if I were, I could not be killed in a better cause,"
he said, as he bent down to raise her. " Come, Ramona, this
will not do ! " — for she resisted, and he heard her weeping as
if her heart were breaking — "you must listen to me. See
now, you are the only person in the world who cares in the
least whether I live or die, so do you think I will go away
and die and leave you to Cruz — ? "

" Let me go to him ! " she whispered between her sobs.
" Let me go to him, and tell him that I will marry him ! It
is the only hope. For else he will kill you — I am sure of it."

" No " ; said Trescott, deeply touched, " you shall not go
to him. It is only after I am dead that he can have you.
For I want you myself. I understand that now. I will not
give you up, either to this man or to any one else. You are
what I need and what I want. Will you come to me, querida ? "

She looked up at him, and he was startled by the flood of
amazement and rapture which shone in her widely-distended
eyes.

" Senor ! " she grasped. " You do not mean that you want
—me f "

" You and no one else," he answered. " If you are willing
to come to me, I will be faithful and true to you, and nobody
can ever threaten to take you away again."

" Oh ! " she cried, " there is nothing I could ask better on
earth than to be your servant as long as you live. But you
cannot stay in the Sierra always, and when you go away what
will you do with poor Ramona, who knows nothing ? "

" She knows all that I desire," he said tenderly. " It is
because she has learned only what nature and God have taught
that I want her. And for myself, I have no more part in the
world out yonder. It has done its worst to me, and I have
found all that I now seek, here in the Sierra with you, Ra-
mona."

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

SOME LESSONS OF THE EUCHAR1STIC CONGRESS.

BY FRANCIS AVELING, D.D.

|F Lord Macaulay were still alive, and had been
present in London during the week of Septem-
ber 6-13, he would have been privileged to see,
not only his solitary traveler from New Zealand,
but pilgrims from nearly every one of the British
Colonies, to say nothing of the vast numbers gathered together
from the nations of Europe, Asia, America, and Australia, met
with one accord to celebrate one of the greatest religious
triumphs of the twentieth century — the International Euchar-
istic Congress held at Westminster. His pilgrim — one out of
these many thousands — would not have gazed upon ruined edi-
fices and empty fanes; though in a sense even this might be
considered true, for he would certainly have been struck by
the absence in more than one historic abbey or cathedral of
that divine Guest and Master for whom in the ages of faith
its walls were raised. He would have had the other side of
the prophecy more strongly borne in upon his mind. For the
first time in over three hundred and fifty years has a Legate,
a latere of our Holy Father the Pope, been seen in England.
For the first time since the memorable days of Tudor perse-
cution have the gray streets of Westminster glowed with the
colors of the Roman Curia. Never in the history of the ancient
Church in this country — not even in the palmy days when it
merited its proud title of Our Lady's Dowry — has so noble,
so magnificent, so stirring a series of religious ceremonies been
held in this Island. Our New Zealander would have noted
this — and, as a matter of fact, he did — and marked how quickly,
after all, the best and truest part of Macaulay's rhetorical fore-
cast has been realized. The seeds of the second spring, wakened
by the tears and blood of persecution and strengthened by the
prayers of the remnant of English Catholics in the dreary
years of penal law, have born flower and fruit. The Church
in England may point with a justifiable and holy pride to the
fact that, of the nineteen International Eucharistic Congresses
already held, none has been so notable as that of Westminster.

i9o8.] THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 173

To speak fully of only the gorgeous external ceremonies
that drew the eyes of all England, Protestant and Catholic
alike, upon the Eucharistic Congress would require more space
than is usually allotted to an article in THE CATHOLIC WORLD.
The secular press of London devoted columns, day by day, to
descriptions of the religious functions and to reports of the
various papers read, in French and English, at the sectional
meetings. To attempt to sum up the spiritual effect that the
Congress has produced would be impossible. It has drawn our
fellow- Catholics from all quarters of the globe to unite with
us in a solemn act of homage, worship, and reparation to Jesus
Christ in the Sacrament of His Love. It has knit the hearts
of many thousands together in one mind and one will. It has
brought out the hospitality and the tolerance of the great ma-
jority of our non-Catholic fellow-countrymen, and made evi-
dent to what a large extent the old spirit of ignorance and
bigotry is giving way before at least the beginnings of a knowl-
edge of what Catholic Truth is, and a consequent respect for
the faith of Catholics. Even the incident that led to the
abandoning of the especially Eucharistic character of the great
procession — unfortunate and regrettable as, in a way, it was —
has only served to enhance and intensify the already very
general good feeling. By far the greatest number of the " letters
to the editor " on the subject that have lately occupied so prom-
inent a place in the newspapers have been in favor of an ample
liberty for Catholics and against the narrow-minded bigotry
and intolerance of fanatical sectarians.

Six cardinals, nearly one hundred archbishops, bishops,
mitered abbots, canons, provincials, and heads of religious houses,
in the robes and insignia of their high dignities and orders,
made the sanctuary of the Metropolitan Cathedral and the
route of the procession, as a mere pageant, indescribably mag-
nificent. Never before, perhaps not even in that home of regal
splendor, the Eternal City, had any of those who were for-
tunate enough to find a place in the Cathedral or in the densely
thronged streets, gazed upon such a scene. Few, certainly, of
the two millions (for at this enormous figure it was estimated)
who lined the roadways had ever witnessed a demonstration,
of any kind whatsoever, to equal it. Within the stark walls
of the great, unfinished Cathedral of Westminster the throngs
that gazed upon the High Altar, with its noble baldachino

174 THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS [Nov.,

and the rich marbles of the sanctuary, the cardinals seated
upon their thrones under a dais upon the Epistle side, the
long lines of bishops in the stalls of the presbytery, as the
Holy Sacrifice was being offered, or the Monstrance raised in
Benediction, felt the outgoing and uplifting of their hearts to
Almighty God, there present, to Whose greater honor and glory
all the beauty and majesty of the Church's ceremonial con-
spired.

Many were the lessons that the religious exercises of the
Eucharistic Congress — without one accessory word of explana-
tion— brought home to those who assisted at them. It would
have been impossible for any one member to look upon the
vast assemblies and not to recognize the Catholicity of the
Church of God. There were men representative of many na-
tions and tongues met together in one common faith, for one
common aim and purpose; bishops, priests, and people joined
in one great and solemn common act of religion. The Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass was celebrated according to both the
Latin and the Byzantine Rite — a circumstance that furnished
a singularly striking reminder of the universality of the Church.
On the first day his Grace Monseigneur Amette, Archbishop
of Paris, was the celebrant; on Friday the Archbishop of
Utrecht; on Saturday the Archimandrite, with his concelebrants,
and assisted by Greek Assumptionists from Constantinople;
on Sunday the Papal Legate, Cardinal Vincenzo Vannutelli.
The unfamiliar nature of the " Greek Mass " — Dr. Adrian For-
tescue has reminded us that the term is wrongly used for the
" Byzantine Liturgy," that of St. John Chrysostom — to us who
are accustomed to that of Rome served to emphasize the note
of Catholicity that was dominant throughout all the proceed-
ings of the Congress. The curious dresses and headgear of the
celebrants, the weird music of the chant, the melody rising and
falling over a single, long- sustained note, the mysterious sepa-
ration of the altar from the faithful by the iconostasis, the
elaborate ceremonial processions, the loudly intoned Words of
Consecration: " Touto esti to Soma Mou" — " Touto gar esti to
Aima Mou " — all these things intensified the feeling of universal
brotherhood ; and, far from laying stress on the division of
East and West, the diversity of rite seemed to bridge over the
centuries and bring both together. But, while Catholicity was
both obvious to eye and ear — Westminster, for the week, was

1908.] THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 175

truly cosmopolitan — a no less valuable object lesson was that
of the essential Unity of the Catholic body. There was no
mistaking this any more than the Catholicity. It was promi-
nent in the religious services and in the conferences alike.

Notwithstanding the variety of nationality, character, lan-
guage, and custom, that stamped it, the Congress, as one man,
was united in faith and practice. Its primary aim, of course,
was publicly to pay homage to our Divine Lord, and to " dis-
cuss all that appertains to the cultus of the Holy Eucharist and
endeavor to find out or improve the best means to promote
an intelligent devotion to our Lord immolated on our altars
and ever abiding with us in the Sacrament of His Love."
(Abbot Gaudens, C.R.P.) It goes without saying that there
was nothing like " opinion " in the mind of any one of the
members of the Congress as to the doctrine of the Church
concerning the Holy Sacrament. The Real Presence, Transub-
stantiation — these are among the commonplaces of Catholic
faith, sublime commonplaces that condition all Catholic cer-
tainty and color all Catholic action. The Blessed Sacrament
is the sun and the center of all Christian worship, just as the
truth touching it is the sun and center of all Christian dogma.
But the Unity that the Eucharistic Congress manifested was
not merely a unity with regard to one specific doctrine nor a
concerted testimony of love and worship of one — though that
the supreme — object of religion. It is conceivable that we
might gather about our altars, in a unity of such a kind, even
those alien to our holy faith as a whole.

The Catholic Truth is incapable of division or piecemeal
separation into truths. Take one dogma away from the teach-
ing of the Church, and all falls into confusion. The fact is
one which differentiates faith from opinion. Moreover, what
is not infrequently forgotten, each dogma and each devotion
of the Church is interrelated with all the rest. Our separated
brethren are slow to realize this. They may take up a book
treating of the invocation of saints or of prayers for the
dead, they may hear a sermon upon devotion to our Lady, and
come to the conclusion that we Catholics teach an exaggerated
and false doctrine with regard to one or other of these things.
It is their lack of perspective that is at fault. They are un-
able to correlate — not being in possession of the whole of Cath-
olic belief— the one doctrine isolated from the rest. And in-

i ;6 THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS [Nov.,

•

deed, from their point of view, doubtless it is exaggerated, ap-
pearing even monstrous, as it is distorted by their unavailing
efforts to relate it to what they themselves know. For it is
only, and can only be, in strict conjunction with the Catholic
belief and teaching as to Almighty God Himself, the Blessed
Trinity, and the Incarnation, that the other truths of our holy
religion have any meaning at all. It has been said that the
non-Catholic has rarely the Catholic idea of God, to begin
with ; and, to judge by the controversial statements that we
sometimes hear, there is probably some truth in it. We are
often accused of worshipping the Blessed Virgin, of giving to
our Lady the honor that should be paid to God alone. And
if a tender and childlike devotion, a great trust in the efficacy
of her prayers, and a reverence towards her as to the highest and
purest in the whole universe, that is not God, be worship due
to the Creator and to none else, of course we are open to the
accusation. But, what is far more probable and at times quite
obviously the fact, it is not we but our separated brethren who
are blameworthy. Their worship of God seems to stop short
at a devotion, a trust, and a reverence, that may be paid to a
creature of God. Our idea of God, without which our devo-
tion to the Blessed Virgin or the saints would be meaningless,
is infinitely more than this ; and doubtless, if they worship
God anthropomorphically, and fail to grasp what Catholics
really mean by their worship of Him, they will have but a
distorted and wrong conception of our other doctrines.

But here, in the Eucharistic Congress, there was no separ-
ating even the supreme worship of God Himself in the Blessed
Sacrament, no entire isolation of the doctrine — a thing that
non-Catholics might be fairly presumed to understand — from
the entirety of Catholic faith and practice. The two great
meetings held at the Albert Hall, the second of which was at-
tended by men alone to the number of some 15,000, pledged
themselves in the resolutions that were passed to affirming and
propagating the cult of the Blessed Eucharist and to stanch
allegiance to the authority of the Holy See. It was indeed an
inspiring sight in these days of general religious indifference
and apathy to witness the earnest enthusiasm of such repre-
sentative gatherings, and to hear the thunders of applause with
which they welcomed the addresses of the distinguished speak-
ers. Among these were his Eminence the Legate, and his

1908.] THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 177

Grace the Archbishop, as well as Cardinal Mercier of Mechlin,
the Archbishops of Melbourne, Glasgow, and Montreal, the Duke
of Norfolk, Sir Charles Santley, and Mr. Hilaire Belloc, M. P.
Only one disturbing element interrupted the spirit of the
men's meeting, though even this accentuated its perfect unanim-
ity. It had been arranged, counsel having been taken of the
civil authorities, to carry the Blessed Sacrament in the great
procession at the end of the Congress. The route by which
the Cardinal Legate was to pass was carefully chosen, and lay
in that part of the City of Westminster which is mainly Catho-
lic and altogether away from the principal thoroughfares. All
English Catholics, and with them, no doubt, all the Catholic
world, was anticipating with joy the day on which it would be
seen, once and for all, that the ages of intolerant bigotry had
passed, that the penal clauses of the Act of Emancipation had
fallen into desuetude, that Catholics could practise their religion,
without let or hindrance, in the capital of a country that boasts
its religious large-mindedness and fairness. At the beginning
of the proceedings on Saturday night, a sudden hush, premoni-
torily anticipant, fell upon the crowd as Archbishop Bourne rose
to make a statement. He told the meeting how he had re-
ceived an unofficial and private letter from Mr. Asquith, the
head of his Majesty's liberal government, asking him to abandon
the procession in honor of our Divine Lord in the Eucharist.
There is no doubt that Mr. Asquith was prompted to action by
the extraordinary narrow-mindedness of the Protestant Alliance
and kindred bigoted bodies. But the manner of his attempt
was neither dignified nor honest. The Archbishop replied that
he could take no action upon a communication of the kind,
that many thousands would be prevented from taking part in
the Congress if the procession were abandoned, since no church
or hall in London could possibly accommodate them. He
argued the lapse of the law which had been invoked against
the procession, and claimed the same rights to public demon-
strations of this kind as are allowed to the Salvation Army or
to Anarchists. He also warned Mr. Asquith of the extreme deli-
cacy and gravity of the position, and put it upon him to con-
sider seriously the points involved. The reply was a communi-
cation expressing the opinion of "his Majesty's Government "
that the ceremonial of the procession — "the legality of which
was questioned " — should be abandoned.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 12

1 78 THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS [Nov.,

All this was at the eleventh hour. The procession was to
take place on the following day. During his statement, his
Grace was frequently interrupted by the angry cries of those
present ; and it was only at his personal request as their bishop
that their intense and righteous indignation could be kept in
hand. But Mgr. Bourne, with that great tact and wisdom in a
difficult situation for which he is distinguished, had already
answered the government The Blessed Sacrament should not
be carried by the Legate, neither should the " Mass Vestments "
be used. These were the points "the legality of which is ques-
tioned." The procession should, none the less, take place ; and
he asked their Eminences and the bishops to return to the
cathedral on the following day by the route through which the
original procession was to have passed, in their court dress.
As a matter of fact, the arrangement thus made by his Grace
brought about a far greater demonstration than could ever have
been allowed had the Blessed Sacrament been present. The
route was lined ten and twelve deep with people, who kept up
one continuous cheering as the clergy, religious and secular, the
abbots, bishops, and archbishops, the cardinals and the Legate
passed, clothed in the gorgeous violets and scarlet of the Ponti-
fical Court. As a mere pageant, it was far more splendid than
it could have been in any other way ; and it loosened the tongues of
two millions of people. It was a veritable triumph, not only for
that Lord, in Whose honor it took place, Whom the bigoted
invocation of an iniquitous and half-forgotten law prevented
from being borne in it, but also for the dignity and authority
of the Roman Pontiff, whose Legate walked through the throng
receiving the plaudits of the multitudes. It was a manifesta-
tion of a Catholicity as virile as it was enthusiastic.

Moreover the action of the Archbishop of Westminster, in
deference to the expressed wishes of the Government, while
it brought out the fine sentiment and noble ardor of English-
speaking Catholics, while it braced them up to remember that
their Church alone, in this land of liberty, is not yet free, and
to resolve that their labors should be strenuously devoted to its
complete emancipation (as witness Mr. Belloc's address in the
Albert Hall, in which a member of Parliament and a Liberal
does not scruple to say what he, with all Catholics, feels in this
matter), also provided a most admirable occasion for the prac-
tice of that eminently Catholic virtue, obedience. Surely ii

1908.] THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 179

nothing but this had been the result of the Eucharistic Con-
gress, it would have been amply justified ! For it has given us
an opportunity of self-control and repression to which we have
risen. It has shown our fellow- citizens that the Church of God
has not allowed the "Fear God; honor the King" to become
a dead letter ; that she stands always for law and order, even
when she herself has to suffer for it. What a striking object
lesson to disabuse our non- Catholic friends of the hoary preju-
dice and ancient libel that Rome is against the powers of Civil
Government.

The regrettable action of Mr. Asquith, and the admirable
tact and courage of the Archbishop, have gone far to bring
out the sentiment of right-thinking people in this country.
The columns of the press have been full of communications con-
demning the hopeless bigotry and illiberal intolerance that have
been the occasion of both. But, it may be asked, apart from
the immediate inferences that are drawn from the affair, what
does this mean ? Is it that the writers are learning to respect
what they are beginning to understand ? No doubt some —
perhaps many — of them are. Is it the expression of a sympa-
thy for the doctrines and practices of Catholicism ? A sympathy
certainly — but neither for our doctrine nor for our worship. It
is the spirit, I fear, of fair play and no more. The same sym-
pathetic tolerance and urbanity would equally well be advocated
and meted out to Buddhists or Atheists. These men have a
right to think and act as they see fit, provided they do not
inconvenience their neighbors. So have Catholics. This is a
free country. Let us see that it is free for all.

It is a religious indifference that is at the bottom of the
sympathy. England, from all the signs that lie open to be
read, is no longer a believing land. It is tolerant, in so far as
it is tolerant, because it no longer cares. It is sympathetic,
to the point that its sympathy reaches, because it is civil, cor-
rect, " the right thing," not to worry about what any one be-
lieves. The Protestant Associations, notwithstanding the fact
that they are chiefly political, at least make profession of be-
lieving something. Their belief, it is true, goes little further
than to deny all that Catholics hold. The people at large, be-
lieving nothing, and caring less than nothing for the faith of
others, are tolerant. It is a sad spectacle; but one to which
we are daily becoming more accustomed. The Protestant Ref-

i8o THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS LNov->

•

ormation — " The Glorious Reformation " — has almost run its
course. It began by denying, and protesting against, Rome.
It is coming to an end by denying, and protesting against, it-
self. Its original doctrines — if doctrines they may be called —
are abandoned : all save one — the doctrine of hatred of Cathol-
icism. It is split up into almost innumerable jarring and con-
tradictory sects. There is no unity, cohesion, or purpose left
in it. It has done its evil work; and, having weaned people
from the Church, it is weaning them from Christianity as a
natural consequence.

In happy contrast to such a sad state of religion as is shown
by non Catholic bodies, and indeed made more apparent by this
last exhibition of the unsavory nature of their much vaunted
liberal Protestant principles, is the unanimity of the Catholic
Church. Would Catholics have been tolerant, asks one of the
writers to a London daily paper, were it a question of a
Protestant manifestation in a Catholic country ? Would a Prot-
estant Alliance procession, for example, have been permitted
in Rome ? Tolerance, as has been pointed out, is in such a
connection no more than an equivalent for indifference. What-
ever the conditions that obtain at Rome may be at present, no
Catholic worthy of the name would wish to see the public
celebration of what he considers to be error at the expense of
truth. But the case is not altogether a parallel one. The
Catholic has a higher notion of the meaning of religion, and
sets a higher value upon truth than — seemingly — does his non-
Catholic brother. The most fundamental position of Protestant-
ism is undoubtedly that of private — and, therefore, fallible —
judgment. That Protestantism has become hidebound in vari-
ous dogmatisms, as a matter of fact, can never alter its pro-
fessed Magna Charta of individualism in religious belief. And
if the Catholic Faith, God-given, and God-guarded as it be-
lieves itself to be, is suspicious and intolerant of falsehood,
Protestantism, on its own confession, must respect the convic-
tions of Catholics. The Catholic has a right, upon the most
Protestant of Protestant principles, to believe what his private
conscience dictates ; and, even it that be the doctrine of the
Pope of Rome, Protestantism, to save its face, must in all logic
allow it.

Truly the Church is a monument of unity. As Mr. Belloc
said in the Albert Hall, there is no other contemporary insti-

I908.J THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 181

tution that has survived the tooth of time — no one of those
great powers of antiquity to which the infant Church must
once have seemed a puny affair and one of no promise. If
any human cause for so august a history as it has had were
to be assigned, what better could be found than that intensely
corporate spirit of union that animates its members ? In a
notorious passage of his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,
the historian Gibbon brings together what he considers to be
the reasons for the triumph of the Catholic Church over the
pagan civilization of old Rome, and from the infinitesimal be-
ginnings of its swift aggrandizement to the unparalleled posi-
tion it occupied in the Middle Ages. The Eucharistic Con-
gress furnishes a far better reason than any advanced by Gib-
bon. It is the unity of the Church that is its strength, and
the secret, humanly speaking, of its success, a unity that gives
a true meaning to Catholicity, a unity that has its root in the
intensest convictions of which human nature is capable.

More even than this the unity of faith is no mere product
of the purely natural ; it is a something divine, superhuman,
just as the faith that calls it into being is divine and super-
human. What else could have made the Eucharistic Congress
at Westminster the extraordinary event it was ? Nothing but
faith in the Blessed Sacrament, the Catholic Faith, unchanging,
unwavering, as it has always been. The same faith that gave
the Early Church its martyrs, and passing through its baptism
of blood, raised its temples upon the ruins in which its perse-
cutors worshipped. The same faith that has withstood through-
out the centuries the onslaughts of the powers of evil — error,
hatred, violence. The faith whose great practical object of
worship is Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, whose touchstone of
truth and right is the word of Jesus Christ, perennially living
in the Church indefectible — that is the faith, and no other, of
which the Eucharistic Congress was at the same time the effect
and the manifestation. That it has shown so marvelous a vital-
ity in this twentieth century is a proof that it is yet unchanged,
that it is able to accomplish now, and in the future, what it
has been accomplishing for the past nineteen hundred years.
Indeed, how could it be otherwise, when God Who gave it
said : " Behold, I am with you all days, even to the consum-
mation of the world " ?

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

BY VIRGINIA M. CRAWFORD.

attractive and much-loved personality in literary
France passed away last May with the death of
Fran9ois Coppee. Years of ill-health, combined
with membership of the Ligue de la Patrie
Franfaise, and his sudden participation during
the affaire Dreyfus in bitter political strife for which he had
few qualifications, brought him in his last years out of touch
with the mass of his fellow-countrymen; but for thirty years
he had been perhaps the most popular man of letters of his
day. As poet, as dramatist, as story-teller, he had captivated
the great French public, and possibly he had captivated it still
more by his character, by his simple goodness of heart, and
his intuitive understanding of the sorrows of the poor and the
humble. An undaunted idealist when the world around him
was steeped in nationalism, a psychologist quick to discern the
purer impulses of human nature even at its lowest, his unsought
influence on the life of his generation was always a refining
and a wholesome influence, sometimes even an ennobling one.
And when it is remembered that in his later years he bore
open testimony to the faith that had long remained dormant in
his soul, and that flamed up afresh with a sudden brightness as
he lay on a bed of sickness, so that he too had a share in that
spiritual revival that is one of the most noteworthy character-
istics of contemporary French literature, it would seem fitting
not to allow his death to pass without some tribute of rever-
ence and affection.

Coppee had no history apart from his writing. A Parisian
born and bred, he rarely left the capital; he never married and
lived a quiet life, first with his parents at Montmartre in some-
what straitened circumstances, and later with his unmarried
sister in a pavilion of the rue Oudinot. As a boy his fragile
health, and afterwards his absorbtion in literary labors, cut him
off from the more robust joys of life. Like many other French
men of letters, he began his career as a clerk in a government

1908.] FRANCOIS COPPER 183

office — in Coppee's case it was at the Ministry of War, where
his father had served before him — but after 1870 he resolved
to trust his fortunes wholly to his pen, though for a time he
also filled the posts of assistant-librarian to the Senate, and
librarian to the Comedie-Frangaise.

Very early in his career the delicate boy with literary
tastes was received as a welcome recruit in that select cenacle
known to fame as the Parnassc, which included much of the
brilliant literary talent of the Third Empire. Here the shy
clerk from the War- Office fraternized, among his more imme-
diate contemporaries, with Verlaine, Anatole France, Sully Prud-
homme, Villiers de L'Isle-Adam, and Heredia, and sat at the
feet of Leconte de Lisle, Baudelaire, Theodore de Banville,and
Theophile Gautier, the revered leaders of the younger men.
Catulle Mendes, the original founder of the Parnassians, at whose
rooms in the rue de Douai the frequent gatherings took place,
himself described Coppee at this period as "very young, thin
and pale, with a refined air and timid eyes, something gentle
and a little sad in his appearance, and wholly Parisian." The
meetings of the coterie continued until the fall of the Empire
and the horrors of the siege of Paris dispersed the brilliant
friends and, for Coppee, brought to a close the first tentative
period of his literary activity.

That Coppee, living among poets, should have made his
debut with a volume of verse, goes without saying. It was
natural too that his early poems should be largely influenced
by the ideals prevalent among his Parnassian friends. It was
due in part to them that from the first his verse possessed such
perfection of form, such exquisite flexibility, as to enable the
young poet to take at once a foremost place even among his
highly-endowed contemporaries. In his choice of themes his
Catholic readers at least will think him less happy. The ten-
der singer of humble joys and sorrows first came before the
public as the writer of verses at once sceptical and pessimistic.
Le Rehquaire, a slim volume dedicated to " my dear master
Leconte de Lisle," professes to contain the thoughts of one
who, having suffered much through woman, renounces life
"without hope and without faith." Among the poems is a
sonnet "Solitude," admirable in form, in which the poet com-
pares his own soul, filled with remorse, to a desecrated and de-
serted chapel, closed to worship since the suicide of a priest

1 84 FRANCOIS COPPEE [Nov.,

within its walls. In the light of La Bonne Souffrance, published
just thirty years later, the sonnet is significant of much. Two
years later followed Intimites, a cycle of love-songs, rich in ex-
quisite harmonious lines and prefaced by a poem of languorous
and morbid beauty. If these early lyrics delight by their high
poetic promise, and M. Jules Lemaitre, one of the sanest and
most trustworthy of contemporary critics, speaks of their tech-
nique in enthusiastic terms, the mood of the poet, blase, self-
complacent, scornful, certainly fails to attract. Only here and
there, in " Une Sainte," a poem dedicated to his mother and
revealing some dawning appreciation of the beauty of a life of
renunciation and prayer, and again in " Les Aieules," some
charming lines on the pathos of old age among the French
peasantry, do we find some promise of what was to follow.

It is often said that it is only poetry of the highest order
that appeals to any but its own generation, and in looking
through the many volumes of Fran9ois Coppee's collected works
— and seldom was there a more prolific writer both in prose
and verse — one is compelled to realize that some at least of
the poems are already out of touch with the aspirations of our
twentieth century. A good deal of the narrative poetry is what
we in England should term early-Victorian in sentiment, a sen-
timent that has affinities in some of Tennyson's narrative poems
— such as " Dora " or " The Lord of Burleigh " ; or, to name
a still greater poet, the sentiment of Coventry Patmore's " Angel
of the House." One chief reason of this is that the ideal of
womanhood presented by Coppee is always of the angelic, cling-
ing, maternal type, a type that never breathed in youth the
bracing atmosphere of the modern high-school, that knows
nothing of games and athletics, and has no legitimate interests
outside the home. Coppee's children too, both in his poems
and his prose tales, are apt to be somewhat sickly and morbid
little creatures, the single sons of widows, as in " Un Fils,"
" Le Defile," and the little patriotic play " Fais ce que dois,"
written just after the war; or orphans left to the care of old
people — as in the " Marchande de Journaux," or in that really
exquisite little idyl " En Province" — never the healthy, normal
offspring of large and noisy families. They are all somewhat
of the type of the " Enfants Trouvees " he describes so charm-
ingly in their black frocks and big white collars :

1908.] FRANCOIS COPPER 185

" De loin on croit des hirondelles ;
Robes sombres et grands cols blancs ;
Et le vent met des frissons d'ailes
Dans les legers camails tremblants.

" Mais quand, plus pres des ecolieres,
On les voit se parler plus bas,
On songe aux etroites volieres
Ou les oiseaux ne chantent pas."

Even the well-known and much-praised "Angelus," telling
of the love of the aged cure and the aged sexton for the lit-
tle foundling boy who pines away and dies of one of those
vague, nameless maladies so dear to romantic writers in pre-
scientific days, will be held deficient in robustness by most
readers of to-day, and possibly indeed slightly grotesque. Le-
maitre writes in one of his essays of the poet's " subtle sensi-
bility " ; and indeed one feels that it is a hyper-sensibility un-
related to the facts of real life that inspired this pathetic fan-
tasy of a child dying of the love of two pious old men.

What saves the whole series of poems published under the
title of Les Humbles, and others of the same class, from a sim-
ilar reproach is the permanent human charity that inspires them.
The poet's love for the poor, his intuitive understanding of the
beauty and the pathos of their lives, even under apparently
prosaic circumstances, knows no limitation of age or nationality.
His pictures are true for all time; they are, in a very actual
sense, realistic representations of popular life, all the more true
that their moral significance is never ignored. No one in France
before Coppee dared to bring august poetry to the service of
humble domestic themes; no one introduced into it so much
picturesque simplicity. That Coppee approaches at times per-
ilously near to the trite and the obvious cannot be gainsaid,
or that here and there he lends himself to caricature. It is cer-
tain that without his marvelous lightness of touch, his unfail-
ing dexterity of language, success in so hazardous an experi-
ment had been unattainable. As it is, he has enriched the
French language with a whole series of vivid word-pictures :
emigrants starting for America, motherless children on the way
to school, the retired tradesman pottering in his garden, the
cheerful coffin-maker whistling over his work, the impoverished
old maid of good family, whose only romance is her life-long

1 86 FRANCOIS COPPER [Nov.,

friendship with the humbly-born village priest, the nourrice who
returns home to find her baby dead, and, last but not least,
the tout petit epicier de Montrouge who, childless himself, finds
his only happiness in serving little children with ha'porths of
sweets across the counter:

"II donne le bonbon et refuse le sou."

It is his treatment of themes such as these that has endeared
Coppee to the many. Yet it would be doing the poet and
academician a grave injustice to assume that his poems appeal
only to an undiscriminating audience. Among poets and critics
of his own day he was held in very high estimation. Verlaine
declares, in " Les Hommes d'aujourd'hui," that his three early
works are of themselves sufficient to place their author in the
first rank, " works for which he ought to be forgiven every-
thing, if indeed there were anything to forgive." A. Albalat,
discussing Coppee's position as the poetic successor of Victor
Hugo, Nouvelle Revue, September i, 1897, asserts that " Prom-
enades et Interieurs" would alone suffice to establish his claim
to be a great poet. Jules Lemaitre, always discriminating and
judicial, does not hesitate to extol his friend as an impeccable
virtuose, a delicate dreamer, a writer of verses of crystalline
limpidity.

Assuredly, if Francois Coppee is scarcely the inspired
prophet, carried away by his own gifts of the imagination, he
is, in a very high degree, the poet-artist, endowed not only
with an indefinable power of touching men's hearts and of ap-
pealing successfully to their spiritual consciousness, but pos-
sessed of a supreme talent for versification, an exquisite ear
for rhyme and rhythm. As a poet he has followed in the
footsteps of Victor Hugo in his free treatment of hexameters,
ridding his lines of some of the pedantic restrictions of French
classicism, while displaying an amazing skill in the construction
of long and harmonious periods, and in the discovery of new
and unexpected rhymes. Nor is it only in tender lyric verse
and in simple narrative poems that he excels. Quite early in
his career the young author showed that he had a strong dra-
matic sense, and was capable of sounding a virile note, by his
well-known poem " La Benediction," telling of a ghastly episode
of the Peninsular war, and again in the still more celebrated
" Greve des Forgerons." Both incidents are told with a fine

1908.] FRANCOIS COPPEE 187

terseness of language and a vigorous rhythm that conveys ad-
mirably the sense of swiftly passing events.

A little latter the poet made his first bid for dramatic suc-
cess with a one-act comedy in verse " Le Passant." It may
well be that his ultimate fame will rest largely on this little
chef d'ceuvre. Produced at the Odeon, in 1869, with Sarah
Bernhardt in the role of Zanetto, the play enjoyed one of those
instantaneous successes that make a man's reputation. Since then
it has been acted all over France and in many foreign capitals,
and for readers at least has lost nothing of its beauty. In
brilliant, graceful verse the little incident is unfolded of the ar-
rival at night of the young troubadour on the terrace of the
villa of the Lady Sylvia, outside Florence, and of how, touched
for once by boyish innocence, she resists his pleading and sends
him gently and firmly on his way, " du cote de Vaurore" before
he should have fallen beneath the dire spell of her beauty.
Only Sylvia and Zanetto appear upon the scene, and the dia-
logue between the two, rapid and incisive in phrasing, has yet
an undercurrent of sadness and poetry. Both the wanderer
and the great lady — the play takes place in the days of the
Renaissance — crave for something that life, with all its beauty,
fails to give them. And the chaste denouement, with its pathe-
tic farewells, coming so unexpectedly, confers a rare distinction
on the little romance.

Fran9ois CoppeVs collected plays fill a large octavo volume,
but I do not think he ever repeated this first success. Of his
more ambitious five-act plays " Severo Torelli," an historical
drama founded on the rivalry between Florence and Pisa, alone
enjoyed a permanent popularity. It is a fine play of the Victor
Hugo school, admirably written and rich in dramatic scenes,
but lacking in that tender poetic atmosphere that one has come
to expect in everything that bears Coppee's signature. A
patriotic play in one act, " Le Pater," belonging to the author's
more Catholic days, and having as its central incident the shoot-
ing of the priests in the rue Haxo during the Commune, has
been much admired, but I confess to finding it somewhat melo-
dramatic. He found a theme far more suited to his talents in
his little one-act comedy in verse, " Le Luthier de Cremone."
With less languorous beauty than " Le Passant," it is yet full of
charm and gaiety; and has, in addition, an unexceptionable
moral. Filippo, the talented but hunchbacked apprentice of a

1 88 FRANCOIS COPPER [Nov.,

Cremona musical instrument maker, wins the prize offered by
the podesta of the city for the finest violin, and thereby be-
comes entitled to the hand of the fair Giannina, his master's
daughter. But Giannina loves Sandro, his handsome fellow-
apprentice, and Filippo's one thought is to make Giannina
happy. In this romantic little play all vie with one another in
generosity, and the self-sacrifice of Filippo supplies a happy
solution of the dilemma. In charm and simplicity of treatment
the comedy recalls in various ways the earlier plays of Alfred
de Musset, and it still enjoys a well- deserved popularity.

I have written so far of Fran£ois Coppee only as poet and
dramatist, and must not forget that by foreign readers he is
probably better known as a novelist. He shared to the full
the characteristically French talent for writing the perfect short
story, and his contes, collected under various titles, fill several
volumes. Even his few longer novels, such as Henriette and
Une Idylle Pendant le Siege, are rather expanded short stories
than solid novels in the English or American sense. Whether
long or short, however, the contes all partake of the distinctive
qualities of the narrative poems: tenderness, optimism, and a
sense of the poetry and pathos of life. To some readers they
may appear over-sentimental; but I think they are saved from
the charge by the style, so limpid and vivacious, so entirely
free from pomposity or over-emphasis.

A number of the stories deal with popular life, and many
of them contain charming and lifelike studies of the French
work-girl. Indeed on this point Coppee has affinities with M.
Rene Bazin, though he usually selected for his heroines frailer
types of feminine nature than those of his younger confrere.
They are drawn, however, as a rule, without either coarseness
or cynicism, and with a very real sense of pity. Coppee's
most frail women are all good-hearted and affectionate, driven
by an inexorable fate rather than by any vicious propensities.
Even Melie, in the Vitrioleuse, is led to plan her sinful revenge
through heartless desertion, and is turned from it by the sight
of a child. A typical example is the heroine of Henriette tell-
ing of the boyish passion of a carefully guarded only son for
a little work-girl employed by his mother. There is no trace
in Henriette of the scheming intrigante ; under the author's
skillful, sympathetic treatment the vulgar intrigue becomes at
least partially purified, and the sufferings that Henriette brings

1908.] FRANCOIS COPPER 189

upon herself are even more poignant than those of the widowed
mother robbed of her son.

Those who do not read French have the opportunity of
making acquaintance with one of Coppee's most delightful and
characteristic prose works in an English translation published
some years ago by Messrs. Heinemann, with a preface by Mr.
T. P. O'Connor, M.P. Les Vrais Riches, which has been ren-
dered as Blessed are the Poor, contains two separate stories,
both of which are intended to preach the blessings of poverty.
The first one, " Restitution," might almost be described as a
Christmas carol. By a highly improbable supposition a wealthy
ex-convict returns from America on Christmas Eve, and re-
quests an aged priest, the Abbe Moulin — himself a delightful
creation — to repay forthwith certain large sums that are still
owing to four of his principal victims. The old abbe starts off
in his cab through the snow, and, very deftly, the reader is in-
troduced in turn to the four households, celebrating Christmas
in varying ways, to whom the good news is conveyed.

The intention in each case is to, show how loss of fortune
has been a blessing in disguise, and this is done so lightly and
so humorously that the moral never becomes obtrusive. Quite
charming is the sketch of the old maid, Mile. Latournure, whom
her despoiler had described as a selfish malade imaginaire, but
whom the abbe finds energetically dispensing roast turkey to
a merry throng of children from her little day-school. The
second story, "The Poverty- Cure," is less distinguished, dealing
as it does with an impecunious young man who grows suddenly
rich and misspends his wealth. It contains, however, a sugges-
tive picture of a penniless youth brought up on the classics
and left to starve as a bachelor of letters, a type with which
the author was doubtless familiar on the streets of Paris. And
in the menage of Zoe Bouquet and her mother he has given
one of his photographic impressions of Paris working-class life,
drawn with an exquisite tenderness and with the fullest appre-
ciation of the beauty of the girl's life of toil and self-sacrifice.

Les Vrais Riches was published in 1892, some half dozen
years before La Bonne Souffrance, and yet in the light of later
events it is not too much to say that, unknown to himself, the
author's feet were already set — to borrow Brunetiere's phrase —
" sur le chemin de la croyance" To be so near Christianity in
feeling and sympathy, and yet to reject all dogmatic expression

190 FRANCOIS COPPER [Nov.,

of Christian faith, was an anomaly that could scarcely continue
indefinitely, more especially in the case of a Frenchman, for
whom there usually appears to exist no half-way house between
a full acceptance of Catholic teaching and a creed of unrelieved
materialism. Coppee never was a materialist, never even in
any serious sense a scoffer, much less a blasphemer. Yet he
had lived outside all practices of religion for some thirty- five
years, partly from indifference, partly from reluctance to sub-
mit to the Christian yoke in matters of conduct. How he came
to a different frame of mind is told by himself in the preface
to La Bonne Souffrance with all his wonted lucidity and direct-
ness. The story would be banal, if sincerity of soul could ever
be banal : faith not renounced but neglected for years, a severe
illness, the fear of death, a time for reflection and prayer, and
a gradual re-acceptance of the dogmas and observances of the
Church, Coppee was no more able than Huysmans was to
analyze the process of his soul's growth. He could but testify
to the change wrought in himself by grace.

" How should I not believe henceforth in miracles and mys-
teries/' he wrote, "when so profound and mysterious a transfor-
mation has just taken place in myself? For my soul was blind
to the light of faith and now beholds it in all its splendor ;
it was deaf to the word of God and now listens to it in all its
persuasive sweetness ; it was bound down by indifference, and
now stretches heavenwards with all its strength, while the im-
pure spirits that possessed and tormented it are driven out
forever."

Good health was never again to be the poet's portion, but
we know from his own pen that his soul was resigned and
calm, and that sickness and old age had ceased to have any
terrors for him. All through his long illness he had continued
to write week by week his accustomed causerie in the Journal,
an article in which he was allowed a free hand, both as to
subject and opinions. It is a selection of these articles, in
which his change of religious attitude is touched upon with a
candor a little surprising to the more reserved Anglo-Saxon,
that appeared under the title La Bonne Souftrance, and one
can trace a continual growth in his spiritual perceptions even
in his running commentary on events of the day, and can note
the serenity of mind with which his sufferings were borne.
There is a charming episode recently related in detail in

1908.] FRANCOIS COPPER

191

the pages of the Revue General* (July, 1908) by Armand
Praviel, which, it is pleasant to think, was not without its in-
fluence in preparing the way towards the poet's conversion.
In May, 1896, shortly before his dangerous illness, he was the
honored guest at the quaint and brilliant Jeux-Floraux of
Toulouse, an annual celebration dating from the fourteenth
century, at which the Academy of Gay-Scavoir bestows guer-
dons on local poets, and the half -mythical Clemence Isaure,
the restorer of the games, is solemnly eulogized by a distin-
guished Maitre-es-Jeux, nominated for the occasion. Coppee
had been invited many years previously to preside at a func-
tion at which some of his most celebrated literary confreres
had been proud to officiate; but it was not till 1696 that he
found himself in the ancient home of the Langue d'Oc. Cop-
pee, so Lemaitre has declared, was the only poet of his day
who could be relied on to write really good verse to order ;
and on this historic occasion the poem was not only charming
in itself but was faultlessly recited by the poet, resplendent in
green academic coat and all his orders. He carried by storm
the hearts of the impressionable meridionaux. Among the
many men of letters whose acquaintance he made on this fes-
tive occasion was the Abbe Jean Barthes, priest and poet, a
man of much talent and charm. Before returning to Paris an
afternoon was spent by Coppee, who still at that date pro-
fessed agnostic opinions, with his new friend in his village
presbytery, and the outcome was a touching poem addressed
by the priest to the celebrated poet, appealing to his higher
nature, and promising his daily prayer to Christ :

" Qu'il vous rende Chretien, lui qui vous fit poete."

So we know that during all the months of illness and hesi-
tation and mental travail that followed closely on the visit to
Toulouse, the Abbe Barthes was praying for his friend from
his distant presbytery in the Haute- Garonne. Later he had
the happiness of adding an epilogue to his poem in which,
while rejoicing in the poet's conversion, he implored him to
use his high gifts on behalf of his faith:

" Toi que Dieu visite dans sa misericorde
Dis-nous tout haut ce que vous vous dites tous bas
Et fais a ton luth d'or, sous tes doigts delicats
Vibrer une nouvelle corde."

i92 FRANCOIS COPPER [Nov.

The titles of some of Coppee's later volumes of verse, Dans
une Eglise de Village ; Dans la Priere et dans la Lutte ; and Priere
pour la France ; demonstrate sufficiently that the Abbe Barthes
did not make his appeal in vain.

Coppee's closing years were, indeed, darkened by public
events, first by the bitter scandal of the Dreyfus case, then by
the scattering of the religious orders, the rupture of the Con-
cordat, and the gradual and deliberate dechristianization of the
official State. His hatred of politicians, as a class, and his
deep distrust of all democratic movements, so curious in one
whose sympathies for the poor were both keen and true, un-
fitted him for the role of nationalist leader which, for a mo-
ment, he aspired to fill. The intensity of his patriotism was
only second to the ardor of his faith ; and to see his beloved
France governed by a Combes and a Clemenceau was bitter
indeed. Yet he had at least the consolation of knowing that
literature had not bowed her head before the ruling powers,
and that if France was to be saved at all from materialism
and irreligion she would be saved by her men of letters.

His own reconciliation to the Church had closely coincided
with those of Ferdinand Brunetiere and of Huysmans, both of
whom he survived by but a few months. That men of talents
and character so diverse should have been moved almost sim-
ultaneously to declare themselves on the side of Christian
dogma and Christian ethics could not fail at such a period to
make a profound impression on the country. Brunetiere, au-
stere, aloof, philosophic, his whole life regulated by his intel-
lectual conceptions — " no one can accuse him," wrote Coppee,
"of being a neurotic poet"; Huysmans, learned, misanthropic,
at once mystic and materialist, drawn as it were in spite of
himself from a veritable slough of despond ; and finally Cop-
pee, the brilliant, versatile, popular poet, with his quick emo-
tions and warm human sympathies, following in the path that
Verlaine had trod some years earlier. No three men could
offer more marked contrasts to each other, yet together they
were largely responsible for the recrudescence of the Christian
ideal which has been the most striking characteristic of French
literature at the dawn of the twentieth century.

WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS.

BY H. E. P.

VII.

SHELL HOUSE.

parish does not boast of many who belong to
the " quality." When the railway line was made
from our neighboring city through these parts,
it passed wide of the village. Hence its devel-
opment, which had progressed but slowly since
the Norman Conquest, was finally arrested. As a consequence,
the two or three good houses the village possessed were split
up inside, and given over to cottage folk. The Manor House,
of which I have already told the story, was one of these. A
place, however, which escaped this fate, was that locally known
as Shell House, on account of a great stucco shell over the
door, which formed at once an ornament and a porch. It was
not a large house originally, and hence the temptation to get
a bigger rent by a ruthless internal subdivision, was not so
strong. Then, too, it had been tenanted for the last sixty years
by the same family, and they had paid the rent so regularly,
that the landlord had let the place alone. Some iron railings,
painted white, divided the little lawn from the highroad, and a
flagstone path, with moss in all its joints, led to the front door.
The knocker belonged to a bygone age, and unless it was used
with care, roused the quiet street. The entrance hall was low,
with black beams in the ceiling. There was nothing, perhaps,
of much interest in the house, for it was only one of the old
places you could find in any village in Somerset, but it was
picturesque and comfortable.

The two ladies who lived in it were much more interesting.
When I first knew them they were the last of the gentry whom
the village contained and were as old-world as their house, as
homely, and the pride of the place. The Misses Stocker had
seen much better days, and so they were always spoken of
VOL. LXXXVIII.-— 13

194 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Nov.,

0
locally as "the ladies." There was a space of nearly ten years

between them, the younger being well over sixty.

On the afternoon of which I write, Miss Joan had seen me
come up the little flagstone path, and had opened the door be-
fore I could get hold of the great knocker.

" Good afternoon, Father, I am so glad to see you — we
want cheering up; prithee, come in," and she opened the door
on my left, which is that of the chief room of the house. Miss
Betty is sitting at the far end of the table. In front of her,
and piled up like a mountain of snow, is a huge heap of calico,
on the edge of which she is hemming. All I can see of the
old lady is a cherry-colored bow, obviously the summit of a
cap, nodding this way and that. I round the pile of stuff and
shake hands with the elder sister. " Sit thou over there, my
dear Father," she says, waving a fresh needleful of cotton
which she had just taken, in the direction of the armchair.
" I'm as busy as usual, and you won't mind if I don't stop
working while we talk." The little nimble old lady, who is
always busy, so busy that she seems in a perpetual hurry,
threads her needle with the cotton she had waved at me, and
begins her task again.

The two sisters are a great contrast. Miss Joan is a huge
woman, and looks more than her size by the side of her sister,
who is so small. But although Miss Joan is well-nigh a giant-
ess, she is in the most perfect proportion, and there is some-
thing so staid and stately in her carriage, that were it not for
the sweetness of her manner, she would be a rather terrifying
personage. But the smallest child in the village loves Miss
Joan, and, far from fearing her, knows that she is a friend to
be trusted in every need. Her head is adorned with a wealth
of beautiful gray hair, which is brushed up high in front, quite
in the old style, and makes the lady look even taller than she
really is. The dark brown eyes, beneath the gray eyebrows,
give the face that strangely kind look that makes you feel at
home with her at once, and as if you had known her for years.
Her dress is perhaps eccentric, and yet it suits her. The day
when I am calling is in July, and the afternoon is hot. Miss
Joan's gown may have been one of her mother's, for their very
reduced means made the ladies careful of every penny which they
spent. The gown is a ripple of little flounces in a gaily
flowered muslin, and it has great puffed sleeves. Round her

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 195

neck is some charming old lace, which is crossed in front
and kept in place by a brooch that I had often noticed,
but which I never liked to inquire about. It held one per-
fect golden- red curl of hair, and the hair was coarse like a
man's.

Miss Joan struck a match with which to light the spirit
lamp beneath the little copper kettle, for all things were pre-
pared for tea before I came, as the ladies cannot afford a maid.
The first match goes out, and is followed by the second. Miss
Betty jumped suddenly round in her chair, for her back was
towards the fireplace where these experiments were proceeding,
and then as suddenly turned back again, and went on with her
sewing.

" Now, Granny darling " — Miss Joan always called her sister
by this name, and it seemed a term of endearment when she
used it. " Now, Granny darling, I won't waste the matches,
and really they are cheap enough if I do"; she added.

" I suppose they are, my dear, but it is difficult to believe.
You know, Father," said Miss Betty, addressing me, " I never
can remember that I am a very old woman. It seems only
yesterday that we used a tinder box and a flint and steel,
when we wanted a light, and when we engaged a maid we
always asked if she was handy at getting a light. Some girls
were so stupid, you know," she continued, " they would strike
and strike, and let the sparks fall anywhere but on the tinder.
On a dark winter's morning they would forget where they had
put the flint and steel over night, and would upset everything
in the kitchen feeling about for them, waking up the whole
house with the noise. If you complained about it, they had
the same excuse always — that their hands were so cold they
couldn't get a light, try how they would."

Miss Joan, who has lit the spirit lamp by this time, now
joined in relating these old-time memories. " Do you remem-
ber the maid we had, Granny darling, who always got the
light so quickly we could never make out how she did it ? "

" I do," the elder lady replied, "the wicked young hussy.
You see Father, in those days we made our own candles, as
every one did who had a house of any size. They were not
the best candles, but those wanted for the servants' use. When
enough material had been saved up from the cooking, there was
a grand melting day, and the candles were made. This par-

196 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Nov.,

•

ticular girl was fond of staying in bed in the morning as long
as she could ; so she stole a quantity of tallow and put it in
a flower-pot, with a rush wick in the middle. This she hid in
the coal cellar, and kept it burning night and day for weeks;
and whenever she wanted a light there was one ready to hand
— and all to give herself a few minutes more in bed."

I ventured to say that I wondered so simple a plan was
not more often adopted, but it seems I had evidently not un-
derstood the whole situation.

" In those days/' the old lady continued, " we never went
to bed without being sure every light in the place was out.
The fire grates were raked, and every candle and the few lamps
we had were all carefully extinguished, because we were so
afraid of fire. This is why we thought it wicked of the girl
to keep a light hidden away like that. I'm sure it was a mercy
we were not all burned in our beds every night," added Miss
Betty.

" My dearest, how could we be burned every night ? Why,
if we had been burned one night, that would have been the
end of us, wouldn't it ? " asked her sister, laughing at the de-
scription of the problematical calamity.

" My dear Joan, the light was there every night for weeks,
and so every night we might have been burnt in our beds";
and the stitches were put into the hem with increasing vehe-
mence.

The kettle was boiling by this time and the tea was made
in the old silver teapot. " Granny, come and have thy tea —
the work must wait a little"; and the busy needle stopped in
deference to Miss Joan's call. We sit at the table and Miss
Betty does most of the talking, for when her fingers are not
busy, her tongue is. Miss Joan, quiet and reserved, puts in a
word now and then.

" Talking about the tinder-box, my dear, reminds me of the
first box of lucifers I ever saw. It had been bought at the
chemists for half-a~crown, and the lucifers had long wax stems
like church tapers. They were considered such a curiosity that
if any one called to see us, we used to strike one, to show them
the new way of getting a light. They had a horrible smell, and
they didn't always go off — put some more hot water in my
tea, my dear — and the tin box they came in was painted
green."

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS i97

"I don't remember that they cost as much as half-a- crown.
I thought the first we bought were about sixpence a box," Miss
Joan remarked to me.

" Half-a-crown, my dear, and it was paying so much that
caused Mrs. Dredge's husband to be transported; for didn't
they discover he had set fire to the farmer's mows at Neigh-
bourne, by the fact of his paying two and six at the chemist's
for the matches?" The old lady rattled on, and I gathered
that the man had been mixed up in the machine riots that took
place in the district, when the farmers gave up threshing by
hand and began to use the threshing machine.

" I've often wondered about that Mrs. Dredge," I said, " she
seems such a silent and morose woman. I suppose the losing
of her husband in that way told on her spirits. Had she any
children ? " I wasn't speaking to either of the ladies in par-
ticular when I asked the question.

" And don't you know that story, either, Father ? " said
Miss Joan, looking me full in the face, and with the nearest
approach to anger in her voice that I had ever heard. " Have
you known us all these years and never heard that?"

Miss Betty was back at her needlework, and I could see the
cherry-colored bow jerk up and down above the snowy moun-
tain at a rate that showed she was sewing swiftly. She, too,
was angry.

Then we talked across the tea tray and the empty cups, and
this is what Miss Joan told me. She had had a half-brother,
Raymond, twenty years younger than herself; for her father
had married again in his old age. By the time the child was
six both his parents were dead, and Joan took his mother's
place. The village school, and old Father Hurder — one of my
predecessors — managed his education, and when he was sixteen
he was the handsomest and liveliest youth in the village. His
head of red-brown curly hair earned for him the name which
every one called him ; his winning ways made him the spoilt
darling of his sister Joan, who devoted her life and her little
all to his happiness. He had said from the time he was a child
that he wanted to go to sea, and Joan was too wise and too
fond of him to offer any objection. So Curly enlisted in the
Royal Navy.

He came home for his first leave, and Joan was enraptured
with the change. His bluejacket's rig made him look ten times

'flth&d; • Sranchi
"I* 123 twi:^ Street,

198 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Nov.,

more handsome than before, and he seemed just as simple and
as joyous and as winning. His second leave came, and his third.
Each time he made more friends and broke more hearts before
he went to sea again. His fourth leave came. He had written
to Joan to say his ship was going abroad for five or six years
and he was coming home for some weeks. His holiday passed
quickly enough. The boy at first was the same as ever, but
a week or so before the leave ended a cloud seemed to settle
on his spirits. The last day but one came, and Curly was
sadder than ever.

" Come, Joan, I want you," he said, " come into the gar-
den for a bit." He wished, it seemed, to be away from Miss
Betty. Joan came, and, taking his sister's hand in his accus-
tomed way, the two began to walk up and down the box-
edged path in the old-world garden. "Oh, Joan, Joan, I've
done something for which you will never forgive me. I'm
afraid it will break your heart — and after all you have done
for me ! " He laid his curly head on his sister's shoulder as
he spoke and burst into tears.

" My darling boy, what matters about me, as long as it is
nothing that hurts you ? But only tell me what it is," she
said, and her kind and gentle voice, her self-forgetfulness,
quieted and soothed him.

" Joan " — and he paused, till they were half-way along the
path again — " I am married."

" Father, we walked up and down till the September even-
ing closed in, and he told me all," said Miss Joan, and at times
I could hear her voice was not quite firm. " He had married
Mrs. Dredge's daughter, Keziah, a week before. She was ser-
vant at the village inn — a white-faced, coarse creature, and her
family anything but respectable. I don't know if it was right,
but I tried to make my boy think that his act was not such
a very terrible one, and that I did not feel it as bitterly as he
thought I would. You see I did not want him to go away in
sadness, and so I made the best I could of it. Then Ray told
me that the girl insisted on coming to live here with us, as
he could not provide her with a home.

" Father, I was proud, very proud I suppose, and the thought
of being linked with that Keziah Dredge crushed the life out
of me, but I would not let my brother see how much I felt.
The next morning early Ray left us. He had not been gone

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS i99

half an hour before a great knock at the door told me Keziah
had come.

'"I'm corned, Joan, to bide wi' thee, till me 'usband's a cap-
tain and can take a better 'ouse nor this for we.'

" I suppose I must have stood somewhat on my dignity,
but the girl was rude, and I'm afraid she meant to be.

'"Oh, you needn't be giving yourself none of your airs
wi' me, we be sisters-in-law now, and I be as good as thou.
Where's t'other?'

"She pushed past me and came in here where my sister
was at work. There was a scene, of course, for Betty could
not put up with the girl's insolence. We calmed things down
after a time, and when I took Keziah upstairs and showed her
a room that she could have, she became somewhat gentler in
her manner. I said I would do what I could to make her com-
fortable, and I hoped she would be happy. She only stared at
me, and said she didn't want to be taught to be a lady by
me, for she knew as much about that as I did. Father, I can-
not tell you what we suffered during the next three or four
months. No kindness seemed to have any effect on Keziah's
character — and God knows I was kind to her — nor would she
try in the least to mend her coarse manners and speech. Im-
agine what it was to sit at table with her — to have her in the
room constantly. And added to all this, we had to entertain
her friends as well. At first every one she knew came to see
her. She would watch them come up the path outside, and
then go to the door and show them in. We did not mind her
mother coming, but some of her friends were terrible. There
was the son of the landlord of the ' Feathers,' the place where
Keziah had been servant. He was constantly hanging round
the place. He would get into the garden of an evening, over
the side gate, and whistle till the girl joined him there. When
we wanted to go to bed, and told her so, she would give some
impudent answer — she would ' come when she was a mind.'

"Months passed in this way. It was getting near Christ-
mas, and the wet days and long evenings gave us a great deal
of Keziah's company; and at times I wondered how much
longer I could endure it. One day, towards the end of Decem-
ber, Keziah spent the greater part of the afternoon in her
room. When she came down to tea I could get no answer to
any remark I made, no matter how kindly I spoke. About

200 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Nov.,

seven o'clock, when my sister and I were alone, we heard a
man's step in the passage outside. I threw the door wide
open, and there was Keziah in the hall with her outdoor things
on, and there, too, was the landlord's son from the ' Feathers/
and they were carrying a box between them.

" ' Good-bye, Joan, I be going away ; don't ye break thee
heart for I,' she exclaimed, seeing she was caught.

'"And where are you going, Keziah?' I asked as quietly
as I could.

" ' She be coming along wi' I, mum/ said the man, answer-
ing for her. ' That there curly-headed brother o' thine never
wur no husband to she ; and as he be garn arf, she be gwoin'
to bide wi' I. Come along, Keziah/ he said, as he pulled
box and girl through the front door, out into the night.

"By the next mail I wrote and told Ray what had hap-
pened.

" And now, Father, this is the most dreadful part of it all.
I never had an answer to that letter, and I never saw my boy
again! His ship was in Australia, and when I wrote for
official information, I had the one word back: 'Deserted/ and
the date. No, I will never believe it, I will never believe it/'
Miss Joan exclaimed, and tears she could not keep back were
in her great brown eyes. " The man who was with Ray,
his friend," she continued, " when they went up country to-
gether on this leave, never came back either, and his people
say that he was not the kind of man to desert ; so something
must have happened to them both, and my boy must be dead."
Miss Joan buried her face in her hands and sobbed aloud.

" This is foolish of me, Father, but I had looked forward,
selfish woman that I was, to this boy and I living together
through all the years when I should be growing old. I did
not see that I was loving him only for my own sake — I
thought only of the sacrifices I had made for him when he
was a child, how I had spent the little money that I had, and
often gone without, that he might have what he wished. I
spent my life for him, and now he is gone, he is gone — my
boy is dead ! "

It is a year and a half since Miss Joan told me the story
of her sailor brother. It is winter time, and she has been
very seriously ill. The day before I had given her the last
Sacraments, and an hour later she had died.

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 201

I am coming out of my house into the quiet village street,
that I may inquire how Miss Betty does to-day. At this mo-
ment Mrs. Box, a kind-hearted, motherly creature, rushes up
to me and says: "Father, did you hear what poor old Miss
Betty done to-night [last night] bless her poor soul?"

I had to plead ignorance. Miss Betty was capable of any-
thing queer, for her mind, which had always been flighty, was
considerably shaken by her sister's death. "Why, Father, Mrs.
Tucker come to I after she had laid out Miss Joan, and she
says : ' Mrs. Box, do ye come in now Miss Joan be laid out,
she be a pictur'.' So I went in, and she did look lovely. She
wur as white as white, and she looked like a very grand lady
asleep. You mind how upstanding she was, and you mind her
white hair. Mrs. Tucker, she took ever so much time over
that there hair. Miss Betty stood by and made she. And when
'twere done, Miss Betty, she did cry bitter. 'Twere the fust
time she cried, for she said as how Miss Joan minded she of
her mother, when she wur laid out, when she were a little
maid. She put one snowdrop in her gret [great] hand, wi' a
leaf, 'cause her mother had one too, so she told Mrs. Tucker,
and she told I. An* her ol* rosary — that one wi' the green
card [cord] runnin' through — Miss Betty, she puts that down
by she, and her hand on it, as nat'ral as nat'ral. Many's the
time, Father, when I wur little, I've watched Miss Joan in
church wi' them big beads. She'd take 'em one by one, so
reverent, wi' her long white fingers, and drop 'em down the
string so slow — she wur a real lady in everything she did.
Do you mind them long black lace wails [veils] she used to
wear? They corned down all round her shoulders, and wur
beautiful lace, they wur. When I wur a little maid about twelve,
she wur talking to I very kind like one day, so I made bold
and I says to she, I says: 'Please, Miss, why do you wear
them long black wails al'ays — volk don't wear 'em now.' 'For
modesty, my dear,' she says, so gentle and so sarft — oh, she
wur a real lady in everything she said. But, Father, I wur
going to tell you about to-night [last night]. At one o'clock
poor Miss Betty goes over to Mrs. Tucker's and knocks she up.
It's a wonder if Miss Betty don't catch her death, for she had
nothing on but her old silk gown, and he be warn pretty thin
b' now. ' Mrs. Tucker,' says she, ' Miss Joan ain't comfortable,
come thou over at onst.' 'Ain't comfortable,' says Mrs. Tucker,

202 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Nov.

'why she be dead, rest her soul; please God, she be com-
fortable enough b' now, for she wur good enough.1 'Do thou
come, and come at onst,' says Miss Betty, like ordering Mrs.
Tucker. So Mrs. Tucker she goes over — not that she wanted
to look at a carpse at one o'clock in the night, but she zeed
Miss Betty 'ouldn't take no, and so up they goes to the room
a top o' the stair, whur Miss Joan wur laid out. Miss Betty
holds the candle, and points to Miss Joan ; and when Mrs.
Tucker zeed she, she gave a gret screech as you could 'a
heard here. 'She bain't dead, she bain't dead at arl,' says
Mrs. Tucker, when she corned to herself a bit, for she was
main scared, 'she have moved,' says she. 'No, she hav'n't';
says Miss Betty, ' I moved she, for she do al'ays sleep thic
way nights, and I put she so afore I went to bed.' What do
you think she had a' done, Father ? She had put Miss Joan's
left arm under her head, and had a' opened one eye. 'T'other
won't keep open,' says Miss Betty, ' I've tried and tried. She's
been long enough thic way, too/ says the old lady, ' and I
wants to put her arm down agen, or she'll be tired if he bides
like that, but he be that stiff I can't ply [bend] 'un noways ;
do ye come and help.' Mrs. Tucker, she had to farce poor
Miss Joan's arm back to whur he wur afore, but she can't shut
that there eye nohow," said Mrs. Box, lowering her voice,
" and she'll have to be buried wi' un open — ain't it dreadful,
Father ? "

FOUR CELEBRITIES-BROTHERS BY MARRIAGE.

BY WILFRID WILBERFORCE.

this series of articles it is proposed to present a
short sketch of four brothers-in-law, the men
who married the four daughters of the Rev. John
Sargent, Rector of Lavington, Sussex. Two of
these men had distinguished careers, hence only the
early part of their lives will be dealt with here. The public
history of Cardinal Manning and Bishop Wilberforce is so
familiar, or at least so readily accessible, that no good' end
would be served by a repetition of it. On the other hand, the
after lives of Henry William Wilberforce and George Dudley
Ryder are known for the most part to few beyond their im-
mediate circle (though a short memoir of Henry Wilberforce
appeared soon after his death from the pen of his great friend,
Cardinal Newman). To Catholics especially, three of these lives
will appeal, as those of notable men who gave up lands, fortune,
home, and dear friends for conscience1 sake.

I.— HENRY EDWARD MANNING.

On the 3d of January, 1833, Henry Edward Manning be-
came curate to|the Rev. John Sargent, Rector of Lavington and
Graffham. Henry Wilberforce, Mr. Sargent's favorite pupil,
who was very shortly afterwards engaged to marry his daughter
Mary, had been promised the curacy. He was expecting to be
ordained at the following Easter or midsummer, and to fill the
place during his absence he had suggested to his future father-
in-law the name of his Oxford friend, Henry Manning. The
present writer well remembers hearing how the Sargent sisters
peeped through the blind to catch a first glimpse of the new
curate as he walked up the drive at Lavington, a thin, ascetic
figure, with pale face and small brown, mousey whiskers. This
was the future Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster and one of
the Fathers of the Vatican Council.

Golden days those must have been, in one of the loveliest
spots in Sussex, with everything that could contribute to happi-

204 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

ness, a united home-circle, of which by the rector's special re-
quest Manning became an inmate, intellectual society, broad
acres, and, above all, religious earnestness and peace. In such
pleasant conditions the new curate could scarcely have found
time hang heavily on his hands. Besides his Lavington curacy
he held a similar office at Upwaltham, a small town on the
Sussex Downs about two miles away. Here his flock numbered
some hundred souls, chiefly shepherds and agricultural laborers,
of whom about a dozen were accustomed to assemble to listen
to the polished but earnest preaching of the young Oxford
graduate.

The little church of Upwaltham was a twelfth- century build-
ing, interesting enough to attract visitors. Among them were
the Lavington sisters, who used to be glad enough to walk
over the Downs with Henry Wilberforce on his frequent visits
to the family of his future wife, and the little party used to
listen to Manning as he enlarged upon the beauties of mediaeval
architecture.

The happiness of the Lavington home was in that very year
rudely broken by the illness and death of the father, Mr. John
Sargent. The influenza had visited England in 1833, much in
the same way that it now appears annually in nearly every
country, and the rector of Lavington was one of those who
succumbed to it.

He had been in many ways a man of mark in his time ;
intensely earnest and religious, having come under the influence
of Charles Simeon at Cambridge. He had originally been in-
tended for the Bar, and his undoubted talents would probably
have secured for him success in that profession. It was Simeon
who persuaded him to take Orders, just as some twenty years
later Newman persuaded Henry Wilberforce to sacrifice a bar-
rister's career for the life of a clergyman.

Thus, in 1806, to John Sargent was given in succession the
family preferments, in his mother's gift, of Graffham and Lav-
ington, which he retained till the end of his life.

Among the Evangelicals to whose school Sargent belonged,
the family of a clergyman was expected to observe a higher
standard of life than others. This was the somewhat pathetic
and surely blameless survival of the belief in the sacred charac-
ter of priesthood, from which all idea of sacrifice and absolving
power, except in articulo mortis, had long ago disappeared. An

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 205

essential feature of the Evangelical creed, the saving leaven
which raised it above the narrow groove of fanaticism, and res-
cued it from the grim sourness of Puritanism, was the intense,
vivid, and personal love of our Lord. In this love, and in the
hope that i Drought that their sins were blotted out by His
atoning Blood, was centered the joy and peace of those men
who, so long the scorn of the world, became by the very reason
that they believed and practised this truly Catholic doctrine,
the spiritual progenitors of those who, in the next generation,
cast aside wealth and position for the sake of belonging to the
one true Church. Mr. Sargent himself was asked on one oc-
casion what he would say to our Lord, if He were to appear to
him. " Can you doubt for a moment ? " was the reply. " I
should instantly implore Him to tell me whether He had for-
given my sins." So far removed were the sentiments of these
God-fearing men from the odious cocksureness of "predestined"
Calvinism. The quasi-sacred view of a clergyman's position,
caused the Sargents to look upon themselves as debarred from
certain amusements which the daughters of a layman might in-
nocently enjoy. This way of regarding life by no means les-
sened the cheerfulness and merriment of the Lavington home-
circle, but it checked anything in the way of purely worldly
distractions, such as theater- going and the like.

Manning was precisely a curate after Sargent's own heart.
His early training, indeed, had been of the usual "high and
dry " description ; " strictly Church of England of the old high
school of Dr. Wordsworth, Mant, and D'Oyly. The first and
last were rectors of Sundridge; and behold they were very dry,"
to quote Manning's own words. But by the time of his coming
to Lavington he had undergone a great change. He had be-
come Evangelical.

He had left Oxford too early to be influenced by the preach-
ing with which Newman was just beginning to electrify the
university; and before he had in any way fallen under the spell
of that mighty personality, his "conversion," as he called it,
was wrought by the influence of a devout Evangelical lady,
Miss Bevan, whose brother was one of his intimate friends.

At Trent Park, the home of the Bevans, Manning used to
spend the greater part of his vacations, and such was Miss
Bevan's influence over him that he always spoke of her with
reverence as his "spiritual mother."

206 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

•

Her guidance indeed came at a time when it was sorely
needed. Manning's overmastering ambition had been to enter
Parliament and to rise by its means to the highest positions in
the State. Nor was this ambition ill-grounded. His experi-
ence at the Union Debating Society at Oxford had proved that
he was gifted with that indefinable faculty, that subtle magnet-
ism transcending mere oratorical power, which moves audi-
ences, quells opponents, and crowns its happy possessor as a
leader of men. The dullest and most unpromising themes flamed
up into subjects of burning interest under his potent spell.
Like Gladstone, who could breathe life into the dreariest fig-
ures and entrance the House of Commons with financial details
which any other speaker would have expounded to empty
benches, Manning could turn into burnished gold the most hope-
less matters of dull, sordid routine, investing them with color,
brightness, and life. This, of course, is mere truism to those
who knew him in later times, but even in those early days it
came to be recognized and fully acknowledged by the critical
audience of the Union.

Mozley has told us of a striking occasion when Manning's
powers as an orator shone out in a way which placed him at
once over the heads of all competitors. The subject of debate
was as dreary as the speaker was brilliant. It was simply a
question of reducing the number of the American newspapers
taken in at the Union. To almost any other man this would
have seemed a mere dry matter of business detail, to be settled
by some hard-headed, practical member of the committee. But
to Manning the subject opened out a wide vista of politics,
learning, history, and racial, nay even religious, considerations.
" Do we know too much about the United States ? " he asked.
"Do we care too much for them? It is the order of Provi-
dence that we should all be as one. If we cannot be under
the same Government, yet we have a common blood, a common
faith, and common institutions. America is running a race with
us in literature, in science, and in art. Some day we shall find
ourselves behindhand." And thus he raised a mere question of
club management into regions of lofty thought. As Mozley tells
us, "his hearers were bewitched," with the polished periods
which were poured forth by this " very nice-looking, rather
boyish freshman."

It is natural, in weighing his influence at the Union, to com-

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 207

pare it with that exercised by Gladstone. But the comparison,
attractive as it is, is really impossible to make. True it is that
when the genius of Gladstone dawned upon the Union, Man-
ning's star was on the wane, but these facts, though coincident
in point of time, were not related to each other as cause to
effect, for at the time of Gladstone's first appearance at the
Union, Manning was just going into the Schools, and necessa-
rily took but scanty part in the debates.

However this may be, we may confidently affirm that Man-
ning's ambition to run a brilliant political career was justified
to the very full, and that, immensely as the Catholic ' Church
was enriched by his Episcopate, England lost in him a great
minister. It was the will of God that the fond dreams of these
earlier days should come to naught, and in the very winter of
1830, in which he gained his bachelor's degree, all hope of a
Parliamentary career came to a sudden end.

His father, for many years one of the Directors of the Bank
of England, and highly respected in the city, became bankrupt.
His son, Henry Edward, was with him in New Bank Buildings
when the fatal announcement of financial failure was made. " I
heard him say to one of the correspondents of the house who
came for business that, 'the house had suspended payments,"1
Manning tells us. "After that," he continues, "all went into
bankruptcy, and I went with my father to Guildhall, before a
Commissioner in Bankruptcy, and saw him surrender his last
possession in the world, his gold watch, chain and seals, which
he laid down on the table. It was returned to him as the cus-
tom is. After that I took him away leaning on my arm. I
remember some time before his saying to me with much feel-
ing : ' I have belonged to men with whom bankruptcy was sy-
nonymous with death.' It was so to him ... he declined
from that time. Combe Bank was sold. He lived for a while
at 12 Gower Street; after that at a little cottage at Tillington,
near Petworth; but in the year 1835 he died in Gower Street."

Manning clearly recognized that " public life without a penny
is," to use his own words, " a hopeless trade," and his father
could no longer provide an income for his youngest son. An
appointment in the Colonial Office was, therefore, obtained for
him through Lord Goderich (the father of the present Marquis
of Ripon), who was at that time Secretary to the Colonies.
But the salary of this office was slender enough to make its

2o8 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

•

holder anxious to increase it, and Manning accordingly spent
his spare time in Oxford, in order to canvass for a fellowship
then vacant at Merton. He found at once that his being a lay-
man was a serious, though not a fatal, obstacle to his success.
And his friends began to urge him to take Orders.

Now, this idea was most distasteful to him. In those days,
indeed, he hated the prospect of a parson's life, partly for its
own sake no doubt, but chiefly, perhaps, because it put a sum-
mary end to his great ambition — a Parliamentary career. Much
has been written about this critical juncture in Manning's life,
and a certain amount of scorn has been thrown upon Man-
ning himself, because he regarded his resignation of a subor-
dinate position in the Colonial Office, as a renouncement of a
political career. Even the great name of Gladstone has been
invoked, and his testimony quoted, to prove that a clerkship
in the Colonial Office was no stepping-stone to Parliament.
Not by any means a necessary one certainly. A rich patron
with a pocket-borough was a far better one, as no one knew
better than Gladstone. But the real kernel of the matter is
that Manning, with his intense desire for public life, hoped
against hope that he would somehow be able to accomplish it.
The clerkship indeed was in itself no step to it, neither was
the resignation of the clerkship an obstacle to it. But a resigna-
tion of the clerkship for the purpose of taking Orders, was the
creation of an impedimentum dirimens, and Manning was there-
fore abundantly justified in claiming that his abandonment of
the Colonial Office was the equivalent to the sacrifice for the
service of God of his heart's desire. His own words are con-
clusive. " I was met," he tells us, " at the moment of my as-
pirations, with the ruin of my father's fortunes. Public life
without a penny is a hopeless trade. I do not think that this
in any way slackened my desire for public life. It was the
only thing I longed for. I shrunk from everything else — es-
pecially from the life of a clergyman. . . . Nevertheless,
there was growing up in me a feeling or a thought that I must
save my own soul, and that I ought to try to save others. I
would have willingly preached in the open air. . . . This
feeling that God was calling me worked continually. I spoke
of it to no one. I could not lay it. Every day it grew upon
me and I found myself face to face with this choice. To
leave all that I was attracted to, and to take all that I shrunk

i9o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 209

from. If I ever made a choice in my life in which my su-
perior will controlled my inferior will, it was when I gave up
all the desires, hopes, aspirations after public life at the die-
tate of my reason and my conscience."

In face of a declaration so clear and so solemn, where is
there room for doubting that Manning's acceptance of a cler-
ical career was the result of a conscientious desire to serve
God and his neighbor?

The life of a clergyman indeed was no longer for him a
career but a vocation, "a call from God, as all that He has
given me since. It was a call ad veritatem et ad Se Ipsum"
to quote his own words, and he resolved " not to be a clergy-
man in the sense of my old destiny, but to give up the world
and to live for God and for souls. I had been praying much,
and going much to churches. It was a turning point in my life."

This change, or " conversion," was due, as we have seen,
to Miss Bevan's influence. She found him in a state of ex-
treme depression, his ideals shattered, the ambition of his life
at an end. With the avenue to public life barred by his father's
bankruptcy, there seemed to him nothing left to live for. It
was the hand of her whom he came to regard as his " spirit-
ual mother " that pointed to that higher life which was ever
after to be Manning's ideal and goal. " The Kingdom of
Heaven is still left," she told him, and then she and her equally
religious brother joined with Manning in those spiritual exercises
and Scripture studies which were to make that Kingdom his own.

To an Evangelical so devout as John Sargent, a curate
such as Manning was exceedingly welcome. At the Union he
had left the reputation of an orator, in the Schools he had
gained an Honors degree, but his heart nevertheless was fixed
upon the Eternal World. It was most natural that Sargent
should recognize in him not only an efficient curate but an
acceptable son-in-law as well. By the time that Henry Wilber-
force was ordained Manning was engaged to Caroline Sargent
and his residence at Lavington, which had originally been
temporary, became permanent. "You old cuckoo ! " was Henry
Wilberforce's laughing reproach to his friend; and this was the
hardest word spoken between them.

If self-effacement had not been, as it assuredly was, one of
the prominent notes of Henry Wilberforce's character, the in-
cident might well have occasioned some heart-burning, for the
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 14

210 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

jp
curacy was but the stepping-stone to the living. When Mr.

Sargent died the patroness of Lavington was glad enough to
appoint Manning as rector, and thus, at the age of twenty-
five, he found himself in possession of an important living such
as many hundreds of first-class Oxford men never attain to,
with an ample and settled income, a well equipped home in a
country of idyllic beauty, with work dear to his heart among
people who loved and revered him.

Never surely has life opened more brightly upon any young
clergyman.

The death of Mr. Sargent postponed Manning's marriage
with Caroline Sargent for a time, but it took place neverthe-
less in this very year, 1833, and that the center and source
of his happiness were in her whom he had chosen as his wife
is clearly shown by the allusions, rare and few, which he made
to her. The very fact that on the subject of his married life
he preserved an almost Sphinx-like reticence invests the very
few words to which he did give utterance with paramount and
convincing weight.

A few of these references were given by the present writer
in THE CATHOLIC WORLD of July, 1907, and they need not there-
fore be repeated here. They were references, clear and evident,
to his wife and her beloved memory, written in private letters
to her only surviving sister; and, few as they are, they testify,
in their extreme reticence and tenderness, to the intense affec-
tion which united Manning to his wife, and to the sorrow, too
fresh and sacred to allow of many words, in which he held
her memory. Happily, too, we have the testimony of one eye-
witness who was a frequent visitor to that happy home. This
is Richmond, the celebrated artist, whose pencil has left for us
the features of so many of the giants of those massive days —
of Newman, Keble, Marriott, Pusey, and Manning himself.
Of Newman's portrait Richmond used to say that, were his
house on fire, that was what he would first save. It was
Henry Wilberforce who got Newman to sit for it and Rich-
mond to draw it. For some reason the artist omitted to
sign his work, and many years afterwards, when Richmond
was an old man, the picture was taken to his house that he
might supply the omission. It was touching to see Richmond's
joy at once more beholding his beloved work. He begged the
owner to leave it for a few days in his studio, that he might

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 211

feast his eyes upon that glorious head, and those noble feat-
ures, with that strange blending of tenderness and iron strength
which taxed the genius of Millais when he depicted it in later
years.*

Richmond and Manning were friends in the thirties. The
artist describes Lavington as a model parish. "The gentle
influence of the rector was everywhere felt," writes Purcell,
giving his summary of Richmond's words. " His administrative
skill was apparent in every detail in the management of the
parish as in the order and arrangement of the church. His
kindness of heart and sympathy drew, by degrees, almost the
whole parish to the little church." This eye-witness, who, in
those far-off days, was a frequent visitor at the rectory, speaks
with high appreciation of the aid offered to the rector of La-
vington by his wife in tending to the wants, spiritual and tem-
poral, of the villagers and shepherds, in visiting and comfort-
ing the sick or the afflicted, and in looking after the village
school. Daily morning prayers were the rule in the little church.
" It was a picturesque sight/' says this friend of Manning in
his Lavington days, " to watch the zealous and stately rector,
vested in surplice, himself tolling the bell, whilst in the gray
of a winter's morning the straggling villagers hurried to morn-
ing prayer before going out to their daily toil in the fields."
Richmond actually began a portrait of Manning's wife. She
gave him one sitting, but died before she could give him an-
other. This was in the spring of 1837. Richmond tells us that
he could easily have completed the sketch from memory, so
well had he studied her features, but the picture disappeared
mysteriously. Can it be that Manning himself destroyed it?
We know what his attitude was towards great sorrow. "Bury
it," he would say, "and mark it with a stone." And it is
quite likely that a picture of that lost face would be more than
he could endure to look upon.

"His grief," as Richmond tells us, "was great and abiding
— too great for words ; he never spoke of her. I was a fre-
quent visitor at Lavington in those days of sorrow, and often
found Manning seated by the graveside of his wife, composirg
his sermons."f " The great thought," wrote Manning himself

* " I have painted strength and I have painted gentleness, but I never saw these qualities
combined in such a degree as in the Cardinal's face. It makes it a very difficult portrait to
paint." This is the substance of Millais' words.

t Life of Cardinal Manning. By E. S. Purcell. Vol. I., p. 123.

2i2 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

to Newman, a month or two after his wife's death, "is before
me night and day, but I have long since become unable either
to speak or write of it. ... All I can do now is to keep at
work. There is a sort of rush into my mind when unoccupied,
I can hardly bear." " A sort of grapple with what was crush-
ing me," was another description he gave of this heavy sorrow.*

The sermon which Manning preached in the church at Lav-
ington, on the occasion of his wife's death, contains passages
relating to the proper attitude of those who mourn which I
cannot refrain from quoting, as they seem to supply substantial
means of comfort for the sorrowful.

" Had you not rather bear yourself all the affliction of anx-
iety and grief which clouds a season of death ?

" The hopes, fears, blights, faintings, and recoils of cold
blood on the overwhelmed heart, the quick step, sudden mes-
sage, hasty summons, the agony of lingering expectation, some-
body must bear, for it is appointed unto all men once to die,
and you must die too at the last. Would you not that they
should be spared all you suffer ?

"Is the solitude of bereavement afflicting? Would you not
rather endure it and let them enter into the fellowship of
saints and angels? The heavy days, long evenings, leisure
changed into loneliness. The sad nights and sadder days when
the reality of our bereavement breaks in upon us. Sleep, much
more dreaming, puts us back where we were, but waking
thrusts us again into the present, f

" Is death terrible and its avenues rough ? Will you not
rejoice for them that they have got their trial well over, and
that now there remains for them no more suffering and sick-
ness, because no more sin ; that the spirit is now enfranchised,
the body laid up for renewal? They shall be restored, not
with the hollow eyes and sharp, severe crisis of distress, but
in a transfigured perfection of all that they once were. Death
has dominion only while we are dying. They are born to a
new life when the spirit passes forth.

" Is it blessed to enter rest ? Then do you not rejoice that
they have entered, aye, so soon ? Would you not give way to
them, and yield any greater blessing to them ? And will you

not rejoice that they have entered into that rest at the cost of

* ibid.

t We are reminded of Milton's lines describing how, in his dreams, he was no longer
blind : " And then I woke, and day brought back my night."

i9o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES

213

your sorrow and solitude ? This is only the greatest act of
self-denial you have ever been called to for their sakes."

The time of Manning's widowhood must have been a cruel
contrast to the brightness of his short married life. On her
deathbed, indeed, Caroline Manning had besought her mother
to " take care of Henry," and Mrs. Sargent was faithful in ful-
filling her daughter's request, until Samuel Wilberforce's wid-
owed home and motherless children called even more urgently
for her help.

Manning, when left alone, was almost ludicrously unable to
attend to the comforts of a home, absorbed as he was with
his parish and his books ; and many were the stories told by
Mary Wilberforce, his sister-in-law, of the funny incidents in
the widower's household.

"Roast the leg," was the utmost that he troubled himself
to say by way of ordering dinner. At last the housekeeper
suggested that perhaps some other joint might be substituted,
upon which her master seemed surprised, exclaiming: "By all
means ! I did not know we could have another ! " No doubt
there was a playful pretence of ignorance in this, but there
was a foundation of truth as well. Fate had given him a
housekeeper, oddly enough, named Mrs. Mannings. She had,
of course, grown used to the final S, and used to put it on her
master's bills. " Is your name spelt with an S at the end ? "
asked the rector one day, as he sat at his table, pen in hand,
with the weekly books before him. "Yes, sir"; replied the
housekeeper. " Mine is NOT," retorted Manning, drawing his
pen through the offending letter.

When Henry Wilberforce and his wife paid him a visit they
were confronted daily with a dish of rice-pudding. Mary one
day mentioned that she had seen some jam in the pantry, and
that she was willing, if her brother-in-law liked, to try her
hand at making a roly-poly pudding. Manning took some that
day and was delighted. " Mary," he said, " if I had tried for
forty years I should never have thought of this."

Manning, in the peace and quiet of his Sussex home, was
for a long time outside the arena of controversy. He was in
no sense a Tractarian, though of course his ultimate conversion
was due to the Oxford Movement. " I was a pietist until I
accepted the Tridentine decrees," he said of himself, and the
sentence illustrates the case very fairly.

214 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

Another witness of Manning's Lavington life is Mr. Glad-
stone. He was, of course, one of Manning's early friends, and
until he thought fit to attack the Catholic Church in such un-
chastened and intemperate language, in 1874, the friendship
remained, on Manning's side at least, unimpaired, though of
course Gladstone was grieved at what he termed the loss of
his two eyes, the conversion of Manning and Hope Scott in
1851.* In the peaceful Lavington days, before the shadows of
controversy fell between them, the affectionate intimacy which
united the two men was darkened by no cloud. The future
Prime Minister noticed that " Manning's devotion to his pastor-
al work had the most successful results. The population of the
parish was small, but Manning on one occasion told me that
almost every parishioner was a communicant. " That," added
Mr. Gladstone, "was as it ought to be."f

Manning's own account of his religious views, at the time
when Newman and Hurrell Froude were beginning the Oxford
Movement, is worth quoting. It seem to describe, in part at
least, with sufficient accuracy, the belief which the Evangelical
school at that time professed.

"The state of my religious belief in 1833 was profound
faith in the Holy Trinity and the Incarnation, in the Redemp-
tion by the Passion of our Lord, and in the work of the Holy
Spirit, and the conversion of the soul. I believed in baptismal
regeneration, and in a spiritual, but real, receiving of our Lord
in Hoty Communion. As to the Church, I had no definite
conception. I had rejected the whole idea of the Established
Church. Erastianism was hateful to me. The royal Supremacy
was, in my mind, an invasion of the Headship of our Lord.
In truth, I had thought and read myself out of contact with
every system known to me. Anglicanism was formal and dry,
Evangelicalism illogical, and at variance with the New Testa-
ment. Nonconformity was to me mere disorder. Of the Catho-
lic Church I knew nothing. I was completely isolated. But I
held intensely to the 'Word of God/ and the work of souls.
In this state I began preaching to the poor in church, and in
their homes."

The curious inconsistency of this profession of faith becomes
clear at once if we analyze it. It opens with the expression
of a belief (borrowed of course from the Catholic Church),

* Life of Cardinal Manning. By E. S. Purcell. Vol. I., p. in. \ Ibid.

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 215

which I suppose would have been endorsed by every member
of the Evangelical school. And yet, a few lines further on,
the writer finds Evangelicalism illogical and contrary to Scrip-
ture. Further, he belongs to the Established Church, while at
the same time, "rejecting the whole idea.'1 And yet Noncon-
formity was " mere disorder."

No wonder that, in a mind so sincere and logical, the ques-
tion arose : " What right have you to be teaching, admonish-
ing, reforming, rebuking others? By what authority do you
lift the latch of a poor man's door and enter and sit down and
begin to instruct or to correct him ? This train of thought forced
me to see that no culture or knowledge of Greek or Latin
would suffice for this. That if I was not a messenger sent from
God, I was an intruder and impertinent."

Side by side with Manning's opinion as to Evangelicalism
being illogical, we must record the curious fact that he came
to London in 1835, two years later, for the express purpose of
supporting it against Archbishop Howley and his friends.

A meeting had been called to rescue the management of the
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge from the influence
of the extreme party among the Evangelicals. Gladstone was
on his way to the meeting with Lord Cholmondeley (a leading
man among the Evangelicals, but not a factionist), intending to
support the archbishop. In the street they ran against Manning.

"What brings you to London?" asked Gladstone. "To
defend the Evangelical Cause against the attempts of the arch-
bishop," was Manning's reply. " This shows," added Mr. Glad-
stone, " that Manning belonged at that time to the section of
the extreme Evangelicals." And Mr. Purcell suggests that
Caroline Manning, on whom the shadow of death was even
then falling, had pleaded with her husband to defend the cause
and traditions so dear to her heart*

But the progress of events at Oxford could not fail to bring
about a change in Manning's views. When 1839 came, he had
begun to hear confessions, and at the very outset he was dis-
turbed by penitents who were tempted to " go over to Rome."
From that time forth, and for some years afterwards, till 1851,
he was engaged in the task of keeping people back from the
Catholic Church. As Newman admitted in a letter written to
Manning in 1839, the High Church party were "raising long-

* Ibid. Pp. 115-116.

216 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

ings anci tastes which they were not allowed to supply," and
that until the " bishops and others give scope to the develop-
ment of Catholicism externally and wisely, we do tend to make
impatient minds seek it where it has ever been, in Rome." f

The year 1841 opened brightly for Manning. In the pre-
vious summer the See of Chichester had become vacant by the
death of Bishop Otter, with whom the rector of Lavington had
been on terms of friendship. To the dismay of the Tractarians,
and to Manning's well-wishers among them, the Government had
appointed Shuttleworth, the Low Church, anti-Tractarian War-
den of New College, Oxford, to fill the vacant see. It was con-
fidently expected that under such a diocesan no promotion could
be looked for by Manning. Nay, many doubted whether he would
be able to retain his position in the diocese with any comfort.

Great, therefore, was the surprise of all his friends at learn-
ing that, on the resignation of Dr. Webber, the Archdeaconry
of Chichester had been bestowed upon him. It was said at
the time that in making this appointment Bishop Shuttle-
worth was prompted by a desire of adding balance to Man-
ning's mind, which was probably understood to mean that it
was to counter-balance his Tractariau tendencies.

The new post naturally extended Manning's circle of friends.
The extraordinary fascination of his manner, his refined and
graceful bearing, his well-stored mind, made him everywhere
a welcome guest. He renewed acquaintance with the leading
Oxford men, and more than once occupied the University
pulpit. As Archdeacon, too, he had to pay many visits to
London, leaving his parish to the care of his curate, Laprim-
audaye, a zealous and efficient substitute. On these visits
Manning was the guest of his sister, Mrs. Carey, who lived at
44 Cadogan Place, Chelsea. This house was the scene of cer-
tain curious events which will be spoken of in their place.
His appointment to the post of Archdeacon made a difference
also in Manning's Lavington life. Up to that time his guests
had been very few. Even his great friend S. F. Wood seems
never to have visited the rectory, and a letter from Gladstone
is still extant, written within a few months of Mrs. Manning's
death, remarking that he had never met her. But in these
later days we read of "a carriageful of people from London
just arrived "; and how, "last week I had a houseful. Among

t Ibid. Pp. 232-233. .

i4o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 217

others the present Master of Trinity (Cambridge) and Mrs.
Whewell." Keble too visited Manning, as well as Carter of
Clewer, Frederick Denison, Maurice, and Trench. Besides this,
Manning's mother-in-law, Mrs. Sargent, frequently received
visitors at the Manor House, among them of course her mar-
ried daughters, Mary Wilberforce and Sophia Ryder, of whom
we shall hear more in a subsequent article.

It was in 1844 that Manning sat to Richmond for the head-
and shoulder portrait which has since become so well known
in engravings. "The sittings were most delightful," Richmond
has recorded, " for Manning was always full of charming talk,
and had always ready at hand an appropriate anecdote or
legend. I remember once complaining of being much annoyed
by a terrible hammering that was going on outside my studio.
Manning thereupon related a charming legend about angels
beating out gold for the purpose of making saddles of gold
and golden stirrups. I think it was — but I really quite forget
now, for it is nearly fifty years ago — yet I think it was for
the horses which were to bear Elias in the chariot of fire to
heaven. At any rate for years afterwards, whenever I was dis-
turbed by the noise of hammering, I always remembered Man-
ning's legend, and my nerves were soothed."*

It seems curious to read that Manning, whose mind was so
much taken up with spiritual and theological matters, was
nevertheless a very good judge of horses. In those days a
horse was an almost indispensable adjunct to a country par-
sonage, and for a dignitary whose jurisdiction extended over a
large tract of country, and whose office necessitated constant
interviews with his bishop, the possession of a good strong
roadster was nothing short of a necessity. It must have amused
as well as somewhat flattered Manning to overhear, as he once
did, a discussion carried on between two hostlers in the court-
yard of a Chichester hotel where he was a passing guest. The
dispute concerned the merits of a certain horse. At last one
of the hostlers exclaimed : " Go upstairs and ask the archdeacon.
He be the best judge of horseflesh in the county."

During his sojourn at Lavington, Manning had to witness
the departure of many whom he loved from the Church of
England into the Catholic Church. Among the earliest of
these were his wife's sister, Sophia Ryder, and her husband,

* Ibid. Pp. 443-444-

218 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.,

•

who were received in Rome. The conversion of Mrs. Lock-
hart, too, seems to have grieved him. She was the mother of
William Lockhart, whose reception caused Newman to resign
his preferments and to cease teaching in the Church of Eng-
land, on the ground that he was unable any longer to claim
that his teaching did not lead people to Rome. William Lock-
hart was afterwards well known in London as one of the Fathers
of Charity. Very shortly before his death, which occurred in
the same year as Manning's, he published some interesting
memorials of the cardinal when he was still Archdeacon ol Chi-
chester. He gives us a graphic description of Manning's per-
sonal appearance as it struck him when he saw it for the first
time. He notes " his grand head, bald even then, his digni-
fied figure in his long white surplice, occupying the arch-
deacon's stall in the cathedral. . . . His face was to me
some first dim revelation of the supernatural in man. I have
never forgotten it. I see him as vividly now in my mind's
eye as when I first beheld him. ... I at once connected
his face with those of the old churchmen of Catholic times
that I had seen in stained glass windows, and in the portraits
of the whole line of Catholic bishops painted in long order on
the walls of the south transept of the cathedral. They began,
I think, with St. Richard of Chichester, and ended with the
last Catholic bishop in the reign of Mary Tudor."*

It would be out of place in an article of this sort to ana-
lyze the various processes of thought and study which at last
brought Manning to the portals of the Catholic Church. The
last months of his Anglican life were spent in the home of his
sister, Mrs. Carey, who, though much attached to her brother,
was in no way in agreement with his religious views.

It needed all the tact and delicacy of which Manning was
a past master to avoid any friction with his kind hostess. In
his state of anxiety, perplexity, and doubt, it necessarily hap-
pened that many visitors, among them priests, came to the
house to consult with him, and Manning was naturally careful
not to confront such visitors with his sister. Now it happened
that a man-servant ot Mrs. Carey, Peter Murphy by name,
was possessed with a certain diablerie and love of teasing, and
in the person of his mistress he found a ready means of in-

* " Personal Reminiscences of Cardinal Manning." By William Lockhart, Dublin Rt-
view, April, 1892.

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 219

dulging his whim. "The Archdeacon had a visitor to-day,
ma'am," he would say. " And what of that, Peter ? " Mrs. Carey
would ask. " Well, ma'am, I think it was a priest." " What,
Peter? A priest, did you say?" "Yes, ma'am; and," in a
subdued whisper, "I rather imagine it was a Jesuit!" "A
Jesuit?" exclaimed the horrified lady. "A Jesuit, in my house ?"

But, by a curious irony of fate, Peter himself was the unwill-
ing occasion of the visit of yet another priest, and probably a
Jesuit. He was taken very ill one day, and the chance remark
of a fellow-servant made him fear that he was about to die.
He sent an urgent message to Manning, begging him to visit
his room. The kind-hearted archdeacon immediately went and
took his seat at the bedside. " I want to tell you," said Peter,
"that I believe those people are right after all." "What peo-
ple do you mean, Peter ? " " The Roman Catholics, sir."

Now Manning was very nearly convinced by this time that
they were right, but with his habitual caution and dread of pre-
cipitate acts he warned Peter against haste. " Peter," he said,
"don't be in a hurry."

"But, sir," replied the man, "I am a Catholic, and I want
to see a priest!" Here was, indeed, a dilemma. There was
nothing for it but to send for a priest, who reconciled Peter
to the Church. The sick man recovered and for many years
was in Manning's service in his house at Bayswater. " Peter,
don't be in a hurry," became a stock phrase among Manning's
intimate friends, who used playfully to remind him in later years
that he had once warned a sick Irishman not to be in a " hur-
ry " to send for a priest!

When the winter of 1850 came, many a clergyman had re-
signed his benefice and entered the Church, but Manning still
hesitated. Each convert of course has to go through his spe-
cial and personal trial. With some it is loss of home and friends,
with others it is poverty. To Manning, one of the sorrows,
though not of course the greatest, of his great sacrifice was his
turning his back upon Lavington. It had been his home for
many years, the scene of his happy married life, the vineyard,
as he loved to regard it, which God had given him to till and
cultivate. In 1838 he had written: "Till the last six months
I have never known what it is to have irresistible local affec-
tion. Once a little self-denial would make all places alike ; for
all that makes one place differ from another would have fol-

220 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Nov.

•

lowed me like a shadow. Now, there is only one place unlike
all others, and that is unchangeable."

To the last day of his long life he never lost his affection
for Lavington and its people. And now this, among many
other things, had to be given up.

But the call of Qod was urgent, and no consideration of
earth could withstand it. Never, I verily believe, did Manning
do any act which he knew to be contrary to God's Will. In
the spring of 1851 it became clear to him that it was God's Will
that he should be received into the Catholic Church.

He has himself recorded the last occasion on which he wor-
shipped in the Church of England. There was at that time,
close to the Buckingham Palace Road, a small chapel which was
dear to the hearts of Tractarians. Here it was that Manning
performed his last devotions as an Anglican. " I was kneeling
by the side of Mr. Gladstone," he records. " Just before the
Communion Service commenced I said to him : ' I can no longer
take the Communion in the Church of England/ I rose up —
fSt. Paul is standing by his side' — and laying my hand on Mr.
Gladstone's shoulder, said : 'Come.' It was the parting of the
ways. Mr. Gladstone remained ; and I went my way. Mr.
Gladstone still remains where I left him."

In March he resigned his office before a notary, according
to law. This was in the city. He returned over Blackfriars
Bridge, went to St. George's, the Cathedral of Southwark, and
knelt before the Blessed Sacrament. " It was then and there,"
he tells us, " that I said my first Hail Mary."

On the 6th of April, 1851, he and Hope-Scott (one of the
leading lawyers of the day) were received into the Church by
Father Brownbill, SJ. " So ended one life," wrote Manning,
" and I thought my life was over. I fully believed that I should
never do more than become a priest; about which I never
doubted nor ever wavered. But I looked forward to live and
die in a priest's life, out of sight." *

" I feel as if I had no desire unfulfilled," he writes to Hope-
Scott, on the day after their reception, " but to persevere in
what God has given me for His Son's sake."

How well he persevered, and how little, happily, his expec-
tation of living " out of sight," was fulfilled, is written in the
Church's history for all men to read.

* Life of Cardinal Manning. By E. S. Purcell. Vol. I., p. 628.

THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK.

BY H. A. HINKSON.

|F any of those who knew him had been asked to
name the luckiest man in the world they would
unhesitatingly have answered Roland York. It is
better to be born lucky than rich, since wealth
is only an incident of luck; and that Roland
York's luck should need nothing to perfect it, a distant admir-
ing relative left him a coal mine which developed into a very
satisfactory gold mine.

Roland York's luck began in his cradle, because he was
such an admirable, good-tempered, and good looking baby that
his nurse instantly loved him, and did not cease to love him
when he attained to a dignity exceeding that represented by
long clothes and short petticoats.

His luck followed him to school, where he was too big to
be bullied, too amiable to be disliked, too clever to be despised.
His physical strength made his gentleness respected as a strange
and uncommon thing amongst schoolboys, and though he had
never been known to fight, his reputation for potentialities suf-
fered no diminution thereby; rather was it enhanced.

As a senior boy he excelled as an arbitrator, and few com-
batants could resist his suave advice. "What's the good of
fighting, boys, let's talk it over." Generally they did talk it
over and peace was the result. When he went to Oxford with
a scholarship, for he had brains as well as good looks, he left
behind him a tradition of which Burland's House is still proud.
"One of the best influences the School has ever been fortunate
enough to know," was a well remembered sentence in the Head's
parting speech.

At Oxford he was known as "Handsome York." He got
his Blue for batting and in the long field he was a certain
catch. He rowed, too, in his college eight and won several
prizes for swimming. His friends complained that he would not
exert himself sufficiently, and his college grumbled when he left
with his cricket Blue and a First in Classics, which were deemed
far below his capacities.

222 THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK [Nov.,

He was a good though somewhat nervous speaker, and he
took to the law naturally, since he came of a family of lawyers.

" He'll lose his case unless he loses his temper," said old
Morehead, K. C.f in whose chambers York read. " I never knew
a man so incorrigibly good-tempered in my life, and the fel-
low has so much brains, too. I never knew brains and good-
temper to go together before."

" He'll do no good, I believe," remarked Jerry Rideout, a
hard-worked junior, " until he loses his money, is sued by a
creditor, and sees his sweetheart carried off by a rival. Then
maybe he'll turn."

But, without being absolutely brilliant, York was successful
enough as a lawyer. His personal charm counted for a good
deal both with judge and jury, and he impressed his colleagues
with a sense of latent, undeveloped power.

But Lady Treston, Roland York's aunt, was frankly dissat-
isfied with her nephew. She was a childless widow and had
lavished on Roland all her unsatisfied maternal longings. When
a girl of twenty she had married Sir Wilfred Treston, because
all the world was talking of his splendid diplomatic achieve-
ments. When he appeared before her young eyes at the Rus-
sian Ambassador's ball, resplendent with decorations, she forgot
his sixty years and only remembered his handsome face and
distinguished bearing, and the quick smile which rewarded her
girl's homage.

The world still rang with his name when he carried her off
and mdiried her. But before Lady Treston recovered from her
bewilderment, and before there was any possibility of disillu-
sionment on her part, Sir Wilfred was carried home to her
from a public banquet, given in his honor, dead, and with all
his orders on his breast. They remained to her sacred relics
of a personality which, as time passed, became more and more
mythical ; and as it became more mythical, so it became more
superhuman, until it became a divine inspiration.

The good looks of her sister's boy attracted her as they
attracted others. Her personal ambition had been long buried
in the grave, now it sprang to life. The boy might become
something, if not all, of what her husband had been. Hence-
forth her hopes and ambitions were centered on the boy.

Up to a certain point she was satisfied, even abundantly
satisfied. But when it came to a point appreciably near the

1908.] THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK 223

standard of her ideal she experienced a slight chill of disap-
pointment. As a schoolboy Roland York was perfect. She had
had no misgivings during that period. At the University he
had done only a little less well than she had hoped, but she
was satisfied with his tutor's assurance that bigger things were
to come. After five years' practice at the Bar, she became un-
easy at the delay in the coming of the bigger things.

Once or twice she had attempted delicately to suggest to
him the things that he might have done and might do. But
the result of such attempts had deterred her from rashly taking
the same risk again. Into the face, which seemed formed to
resist all the hostile forces of the world, had suddenly flashed
a look of abject, hunted fear.

It was she, not he, who changed the subject of conversa-
tion, and then she was left wondering why she found so much
satisfaction in the society of little Larminie.

Larminie, clever, well-nigh briefless, and humanly envying
his better circumstanced friend, instanced the case of the vol-
canoes concealing latent energy. But the reference made Lady
Treston angry.

" The latent force of a volcano is only ascertained after it
has burst forth," she exclaimed; "no one would believe in it
otherwise."

" I think people believe more implicitly when there is no
evidence than when there is conclusive evidence," rejoined
Larminie, "the lay mind so often discounts the importance of
evidence. York has so much at his back that he need not
care much what is in front of him. The past is a great enemy
of the future, whatever way you take it."

He spoke with a certain suggestion of bitterness which was
not lost on his hearer. She looked with a newly awakened in-
terest at the thin, sallow face and the dark, eager eyes of
Larminie. She knew little of him but just enough to know
that what he had achieved he had achieved of himself. His
words implied a criticism of her nephew, and she was vaguely
angered by them.

"The past is beyond our reach, but the future is in our
own hands to make or mar," she answered somewhat coldly.

Larminie's face twitched, his lips parted an instant as though
he would reply, then they closed suddenly in a kind of proud
silence. Lady Treston remembered and did not forgive his

224 IHE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK [Nov.,

criticism of his friend and her nephew, and since she did not
forgive she remembered the better.

Roland was endowed with all the qualities essential to suc-
cess, except the will to grasp it. An incentive must be found
to stimulate him, and what incentive so great, so impelling as
the incentive of a woman.

By a flash of inspiration she remembered Helen Brewster,
a distant cousin of her husband — poor, proud, handsome, am-
bitious, and discontented — Lady Treston rapidly summed up her
qualifications and found them all satisfactory, including her pov-
erty, for Lady Treston was not a worldly woman in the sense
of overvaluing riches, and after all Roland would have enough,
if things turned out as she meant them to do.

To make things easy for Cupid a house- party was arranged
at Foxford Manor, to take place in the middle of August when
Roland York would be free. The meeting between Miss Brewster
and York was auspicious enough and Lady Treston was satisfied.
They had met some years before at a garden party at Oxford.
They came together naturally of themselves by reason of that
first meeting, when York was leaving the University and Helen
was a girl of twenty with her head filled with what she after-
wards characterized as rubbish.

She was now twenty-five — an age when a woman begins to
be differentiated more clearly from the others of her sex and to
reveal her own proper character free from the haze of convention.

"Do you find me changed since that stupid garden-party,
ever so many years ago ? " she asked as they stood together
on the lawn facing the old Manor House.

He looked down at her face, carefully noting the broad,
narrow brow, with the thick cluster of dark hair lying low above
it, the well-shaped nose with its delicate, sensitive nostrils, the
rich, olive-tinted coloring of her cheeks, and the full pouting
lips, rebellious and expressive of hardly concealed discontent.

" Yes, you are changed " ; he answered slowly and judici-
ally. " And, if I may say so, I think you seemed happier five
years ago."

" If to be ignorant was to be happy, perhaps I was," she
returned, " as you remember it was five years ago, and I am
now twenty-five, that makes a difference."

" There is no essential reason why twenty-five should be
less happy than twenty," he said with a smile.

1908.] THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK 225

"There is no essential reason for anything/' she broke out
impetuously, " but yet you have guessed or discerned the
truth — I am less happy ; or, say, less satisfied now than I was
at twenty. I suppose to be happy a woman must have her
heart set upon a man or a child, unless she become a propa-
gandist of some sort; and I am mediaeval enough to hate wo-
men in men's garments."

" I think I understand — at least partly," he said. " Last
winter I was at Oxford — at my old college, and if I had not
been a man, I should have wept, because the place was the
same and yet so different. But you see I am older than you."

She laughed a little bitterly.

" I am obliged for the reminder, but it is too soon for
either of us to choose our coffins or compose our epitaphs."

A peal of childish laughter came from behind the shrubbery,
which lay between them and the tennis court.

" They are the little Fosbrookes," she said. " Come and let
us renew our youth in their company."

As they emerged on the greensward, a dog suddenly yelped,
and one of the players, throwing down her racket, ran and
picked up a little King Charles spaniel, which had been struck
by the ball.

" Sweet, sweet/* she cried, in a high-pitched, piping voice, put-
ting the dog's head against her neck, " and was my darling hurt ? "

Two little girls and a boy followed her, calling out "Sweet,
sweet, and was he hurt ? "

" That's Marjory — Marjory Mayhew, the daughter of one of
the county families," Miss Brewster explained to York. " She
comes to play with the children, and she's the biggest baby
of them all herself."

Having consoled Rufino — the absurd name given to the
dog — Marjory, still holding him against her neck, came up to
Miss Brewster.

41 Oh, isn't he sweet?" and she held out the dog to have
his head patted.

"Miss Mayhew finds everything sweet from a chicken's heart
to a full-grown pig," said Miss Brewster. "She even finds
children sweet at all times and under all circumstances. She is
to be envied, is she not ? "

" Much, indeed," York answered watching, with more than
a casual interest, the girl holding the spaniel against her neck.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 15

226 THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK [Nov.,

She was uncommonly tall and generously proportioned, but she
moved with an easy, springing gait. The hand which lay
upon the spaniel's back was large, even disproportionately large,
but her feet were, to York's relief, small and shapely. Her
features were regular, her lips mobile, with a somewhat full
curve under the chin, ominous for the future, her hair abundant
and fair with a streak of red in it. Standing between the other
two, Miss Brewster appeared dwarfed almost to insignificance,
as Lady Treston emerging upon the tennis lawn noticed, and
was grateful to the young Fosbrookes when they dragged Miss
Mayhew away, shouting: "Come back and play, Margy."

" She is twenty four, though but for her size she might be
only fifteen," explained Miss Brewster. " I doubt her head
will ever develop any more, though there's no saying where
her bodily development will end. She has a wonderful influ-
ence on children."

In this wise Helen Brewster created about herself an atmos-
phere the direct opposite to that diffused by Marjory Mayhew.

During York's stay at Foxford Manor, he came but little
into personal contact with Marjory. When he did, he was
conscious of her charm, not a subtle charm, indeed, but a
charm sweet, restful, and in a degree unaccountable. She was
still a child, she spoke to York with the same frankness as
she spoke to Dicky Fosbrooke, and with the same unconscious-
ness of the quickly awakened interest which lurked in his dark,
wistful eyes.

As he drove to the station he contrasted the two farewells
— the conventional expression of hope that he would have
good sport, accompanied by the almost negligent pressure of
three fingers, and the large, warm, generous handgrasp with
which Marjory accompanied the reminder that he should not
forget Dicky Fosbrooke's peg-top.

Her lack of appreciation of him irritated him, it even hurt
him. Had she in some mysterious way seen into his heart, and
unconsciously appraised him at his true value ; or was she, as
people said, an undeveloped baby interested solely in peg-tops
and content with children's kisses ?

For the moment he felt angry enough to prefer the self-
conscious Helen Brewster ; but swiftly following upon his anger
came the desire to kindle in Marjory's heart a love for himself.

Early in December York received a letter from Lady Tres-

1908.] THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK 227

ton reminding him of his promise to spend Christmas with
her. The hunting was very good and though the nights were
frosty the scent was excellent. She added incidentally that she
was recovering from an attack of influenza and the dear, sweet
creature Marjory Mayhew had nursed her through it, " just as if
I had been her own mother and not an ill-tempered old harri-
dan. She makes an ideal nurse, and I know no other profession
for women in which there is so much honor to be gained."

At Victoria station he met Larminie, who had also been
invited ; and the two traveled down together. Larminie was
anxious to know who the rest of the house party were, but
York could tell him nothing except what Larminie only cared
to know, that Miss Brewster was to be of the party. On re-
ceiving that information Larminie's rather careworn features
brightened visibly. York wished that he could be equally as-
sured of Marjory's presence.

When the two men were ushered into the drawing-room at
Foxford Manor Lady Treston was seated before a huge log
fire and Marjory sprawled not ungracefully on the hearth.

44 This child has been so good to me/' explained Lady
Treston, "that I have begged a further loan of her. Dear
Roland, how kind but how extravagant of you," as York pre-
sented his hostess with a great bunch of lilies of the valley.
" What Egyptian have you been spoiling for these ? "

" Oh, sweet, sweet," piped Marjory, bending over the flowers.

" Does the thrush sing here so soon ? " asked York laughing.

"No; but the jackdaw does, because he has only one note
to his voice and that he cannot spoil," Marjory answered, show-
ing her white teeth.

Her face was flushed with the heat of the fire and the
dimple under her chin was a trifle deeper than York had re-
membered it. Helen was perhaps right technically — Marjory's
beauty was more of to day than of to-morrow.

Helen was the last to appear and she made a strikingly hand-
some figure. She was beautifully dressed and jewels sparkled on
her white, slender neck. Beside her Marjory looked a simple
country girl, and even York confessed that she looked best on
the green turf amidst trees and flowers.

Larminie was enraptured ; his pale, eager face was flushed
with pleasure, for he had the honor of taking Miss Brewster
in to dinner. Yet though she talked with him, and talked well,

228 THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK [Nov.,

he was cfonscious that her eyes watched York ; and the con-
sciousness aroused some bitterness in him, especially as he was
only too conscious of his own physical defects in comparison
with York's splendid endowments.

He watched York and noticed that his eye turned often to
the obscure corner of the table where Marjory Mayhew sat.
With a certain jealous anger he perceived that Miss Brewster's
eyes followed the direction of his own.

"A life without ambitious effort is absolutely ignoble," he
said to his companion. " I had rather be dead than a drone
or a sleeper."

" I cannot fancy you as either/' Miss Brewster answered,
looking with a certain sympathy at the restless, impetuous face.
" Then, neither am I a drone or a sleeper — at least, not willingly."

" We have at least that bond of union," he returned with
a laugh. " It is something to begin with. Perhaps later we
shall find others."

"I hope we shall," Helen returned as her hostess rose from
the table, "but at least it is a good beginning."

The evening ended in the usual way of house parties with
music in the drawing-room, bridge in the card-room, and pool
and billiards in the billiard-room.

Helen was a devoted bridge-player, and played well; so
did Larminie, who continued to be her partner.

York and Marjory joined a party of pool players. He
watched the girl play with a sense of physical pleasure. De-
spite her height, she was as graceful as a fawn and her light-
hearted gaiety caused a positive atmosphere of buoyancy.

York was away all the next da sn did not meet

him till the dinner gong rang. After dinner the guests were
distributed much as on the preceding evening. But after the
first rubber Helen complained of a recurrence of her familiar
headache and retired to her room.

A few minutes later she entered the billiard- room, her face
white and her eyes very wide. As though she saw no one
else, she went straight to York.

"Mr. York," she said, putting her hand on his sleeve and
looking up into his eyes, "just now I went to my bedroom.
At the door I heard a noise and, peeping in, I saw a man
trying to open one of my boxes ; there was the shadow of
another too. I am sure they are burglars."

1908.] THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK 229

The color fled suddenly from York's face and a look of des-
perate and hunted fear came into his eyes.

" Burglars ! " he repeated.

"Yes"; she replied impatiently. "Come quickly or I shall
lose my jewels."

But York stood motionless, a figure of mute and abject ter-
ror. At last he moistened his dry lips. " The police — " he
began in a stammering voice.

Helen had watched his face with a terror almost equal to
that revealed there.

"Police," she exclaimed, her eyes riveted upon his with a
horrible fascination.

A contemptuous laugh roused her.

" Come along, Miss Brewster," exclaimed Larminie, snatch-
ing up a poker from the hearth; "if the burglars get away
with your jewel case there will be little use in crying police."

Helen turned a last appealing glance at York ; then, with a
sigh that was almost a moan, she followed Larminie from the
room, the others crowding behind. York stood staring blankly
before him, the billiard cue still in his hand.

Suddenly he felt soft, strong fingers grip his wrist.

" Mr. York, Miss Brewster's window looks on the shrubbery,"
whispered Marjory, " let us be quick and cut off their escape."

He would have resisted, but she drew him firmly with her.
The cue fell to the floor and he followed her. The dull fear
left his eyes, giving place to a sudden light. With her hand
on his arm he must go, and so together they went out into the
darkness.

Half an hour later the party again assembled in the billiard -
room, most of them filled with pleasurable excitement. The
burglar had shown little fight, when he was surprised on his
knees, and that little was quelled by a timely blow from Lar-
minie's poker. When he was bound hand and foot, he was
carried to the kitchen to await the arrival of the police. But
through the open window his mate had escaped.

As they were discussing the situation Marjory entered. Her
hair was disheveled and there was a dark bruise under her left
eye.

Lady Treston rushed to her.

" What has happened you, my darling ? " she inquired.

" Oh, nothing," the girl answered. " Mr. York and I tried to

230 THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK [Nov.,

catch the man, but he was too quick for us. Mr. York has
gone in pursuit of him."

" But your eye, dearest ? "

Marjory put her hand to her eye.

"I must have knocked it against a tree," she said, " but it
is nothing."

But Marjory was not clever at evasion, and no one believed
that York had tried to capture the burglar any more than that
he was now in pursuit of him. Larminie smiled indulgently.
He could be indulgent now since he was the hero of a thrill-
ing adventure.

When the lights were out, two women sat together miser-
ably regarding one another. Helen's face was stained with
tears of shame, anger, and disappointment.

" He is a coward, a craven coward," she said bitterly, "and
every one knows it."

Lady Treston thought of her dead husband with the orders
on his breast and her ambitions for Roland York. She suffered
more than Helen, since for years her hopes had been centered
on York. That such physical strength and beauty should
harbor the heart of a coward was almost beyond the power of
belief. And he had fled out into the night and sent the girl
to lie for him. He should never come to Foxford Manor again,
never again.

The next day being Christmas Day most of the party went
to church. In York's presence nothing was said of the events
of the preceding night, though in his absence nothing else was
spoken of. If he noticed the coldness of his hostess and the
furtive looks of Miss Brewster he did not show any sign of
recognition. He appeared to be affected by a kind of sup-
pressed excitement, as if some latent energy had been sudden-
ly called into activity.

The ice on the lake was reported to be in good condition
and a skating carnival was arranged for the afternoon. The
trees were hung with Chinese lanterns and torches were sup-
plied to the skaters. Dancing and races on the ice went on
merrily, the sounds of laughter echoing sweetly on the frosty
air. But York, though the most accomplished skater, took no
part in them. He skated by himself, his eyes fixed on one
figure, which came and went brandishing a torch, and with
frequent cries of delight.

1908.] THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK 231

It was now Marjory's turn to race Larminie, the goal being
a willow tree on the south side of the lake. They started level
and for a time kept together, then Marjory went swiftly ahead,
amidst shouts of laughter and encouraging cheers. The noise
was followed by a sharp silence. The leading torch wavered
amid an ominous crackling and sank. Larminie had only just
time to skirt the hole through which Marjory had disappeared.
Behind the suddenly terrified crowd of watchers broke a heart-
rending cry of " Marjory," and past them with lightning speed
went York towards the dark place, near which Larminie's
torch blazed fitfully. Straight to the hole he went, whilst the
watchers held their breath, then, with the raucous sound of
breaking ice, he too disappeared into the darkness.

The awful silence was broken by the voice of Larminie
calling for ropes and ladders. Torch holders surrounded the
hole, at a safe distance, and from it emerged the head of York,
one hand gripping the unbroken ice while with the other he
clutched Marjory. Again and again the ice broke beneath his
weight and he sank with his burden. His strength was failing,
his fingers numbed with cold; his brain began to reel, there
was no thought any longer of rescue, only one thing was clear
to him, that he loved Marjory and that unless he could save
her, it was best to die together.

When at last by means of ladders and ropes they drew them
out York was only half conscious. With some difficulty they
disengaged his arm from about Marjory's waist. His limbs
were so numbed that he could hardly stand, and he watched
with wistful eyes Marjory being carried away to the house.

A servant brought him a glass of hot brandy and water,
and when he had drunk it the numbness passed sufficiently to
allow him to walk back. All the while he seemed like one in
a dream.

"I shall be all right when I have had a hot bath," he said
smiling. " One ought not to mind a ducking."

When he reached the house they told him that Miss May-
hew was quite comfortable and had almost recovered from the
shock. A hot bath and a change of clothes completely restored
him and he came downstairs laughing at his hostess' anxious face.

There was a strange air of mystery and bewilderment about
them all; but in the faces of Lady Treston and Miss Brewster
a certain remorseful surprise.

232 THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK [Nov.,

" I am very proud of you, Roland/1 Lady Treston said tremu-
lously. " Marjory owes her life to you."

" And I," he said, " owe her more than I can ever repay.
How much that is I will tell you to-night if you can find time
to hear me."

"You shall command my time and anything else," the lady
answered with grateful relief.

"He risked his life to save her," said Helen bitterly, "for
me he would not even risk a scar."

That evening after dinner, when most of the party were dis-
cussing the strange events of the two nights as they affected
York's character, York sat in Lady Treston's boudoir and made
his confession.

" All my life since I was a boy I feared pain and tried to
avoid it. I never fought because fighting implied pain. Be-
cause I was strong, I was able to escape fighting and conse-
quent pain. I became a man without ever having fought or
struggled as a boy; so I grew to fear the idea of fighting more
and more. The possession of physical strength gave me no
consolation, beyond the fact that it deterred people from quar-
reling with and hurting me.

" Last night, as you all saw, I was terror-stricken at the
suggestion that I should face a burglar. Marjory drew me out
into the shrubbery to waylay the men if they should escape
from the window. One of them did escape whilst I cowered
in the shrubbery. When Marjory tried to hold him he struck
her. It was then I forgot my fears. I sprang after him and
caught him in the snipe bottoms about a mile off. I vented all
my fury on him and until I heard from the police this morning I
thought that I had killed him. Since last summer I have always
been thinking of Marjory. Last night when every one deserted
me, as they were justified in doing, Marjory understood and
came to me and stood by me. It is no boastful thing to say
that for Marjory I would face all the dangers of the world.
To her I owe the manhood that has been so long in abeyanofe.
I love her, but of love she herself knows nothing. Help me
to win her so that I may keep my manhood; for without her
I shall be in even worse case than when I was a coward."

Lady Treston stroked his hair affectionately.

" I will confess, Roland, that you have disappointed me by
your want of ambition as well as other things, and I never

i9o8.J THE SECRET OF ROLAND YORK 233

thought of Marjory as your wife. She is a dear, sweet child
and very gentle and good. Whether she knows anything of
love I cannot tell. Yesterday I should have said she did not.
To-night I am not so sure. She is triumphant because she
has proved all the rest of us wrong, and for the moment you
are her hero. To-morrow it may be otherwise. Come, I will
take you to her. Ask her to love and marry you, and if she
consents give her this — she loves pretty things."

Lady Treston drew a handsome sapphire and diamond ring
from her ringer and gave it to York.

Marjory was lying on a couch in her room, swathed in a
handsome dressing gown and her long, fair hair hanging about
her shoulder.

The color rose in her cheeks when she saw York. He knelt
and kissed the large, shapely hand.

"How are you now?" he asked.

" Oh, ever so well, and more grateful than I can tell," she
answered. " You have saved my life."

" I come to ask my reward ? " he whispered.

" What reward would you have ? " she asked, turning her
head away.

" I want you to love me and be my wife," he said passion-
ately. "You know all my faults, my weakness — "

" There are none, and I knew it somehow always," she
whispered.

He buried his face in the tangled masses of her hair.

"Then you will love me and marry me, and we shall face
the world together ? " he said.

" I will love you and marry you and we shall face the world
together," she repeated, laughing joyously.

"Then this is a pledge of our love," he went on, slipping
the ring upon her finger.

And Lady Treston, returning after a discreet absence, heard
Marjory's voice piping: " Sweet, sweet," and knew that Roland
York had pleaded his cause and won it.

"It's a pity for Helen," she said to herself, "but she was
too ready to join in condemning him."

In this way Lady Treston salved her own conscience ; and
when Helen Brewster married Larminie she expressed the opin-
ion that it was a most suitable match in every respect, since
they both were admirable bridge players.

ANATOLE FRANCE'S " LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC."

BY J. BRICOUT.

|HIS is not the first time that Joan of Arc has been
the subject of extremely sharp debate. Men have
been quarreling about her for a long while. Men-
tioning a few out of many, we have such well-
known names as Richer, Voltaire, Quicherat,
Michelet, Wallon, and Marius Sepet. Still it is no exaggera-
tion to say that Joan has been discussed more ardently in our
own days than at any other time since those thirty years of
the fifteenth century in which she stirred the souls of men so
deeply and roused in them such diverse feelings. Above all,
ever since Pope Pius X. proclaimed her virtues heroic, and the
Church began active preparations to raise her to the altar,
militant freethinkers have redoubled their hatred for her mem-
ory, her life, her personality, and her acts. Many journalists
and many professors of the University of France have won an
unenviable distinction by heaping insults on her; and the Free-
masons, no longer hoping to suppress, have dreamed for a mo-
ment of "laicizing " her. How vain their efforts ! Joan is more
popular than ever. Those for whom religion and native land
remain always worthy of their greatest love; those also who
are neither Catholic nor French, but whose hearts are stirred
at the sight of heroism joined to youth and misfortune — in a
word, all those who are not blinded nor perverted by hatred
of religion — are more and more filled with admiration for the
young girl who died unhesitatingly at the stake to save her
country and to accomplish her mission. Will Joan of Arc be-
come the patron saint of patriotism ? Will the Church regain,
through her, some of its lost popularity ?

It is chiefly to retard the triumph of the Church that Ana-
tole France has published his Life of Joan of Arc, and our
enemies have worked to secure for it the noisy, widespread sale
we know it has enjoyed. The excitement has already died
out to a considerable extent in France, but not elsewhere. It
is opportune, therefore, to prove that this new life of Joan of
Arc has no scientific value. Moreover, there is nothing to keep

i9o8.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 235

us from profiting by this examination to remind our Catholic
and non-Catholic readers of some doctrinal truths that are too
commonly overlooked. There will be three parts to this essay.

In the first, we will tell what the Church was to Joan of
Arc; and, in turn, what Joan was and is to the Church — in
opposition to what France asserts or insinuates.

In the second, we will show that our author does not set
a right value on the documents we have at hand for writing a
life of Joan.

After that it will be easy to prove, in the third part, that
Anatole France's Joan of Arc is decidedly nothing but a cari-
cature.

"Voltaire," so France writes,* "makes fun of knavish monks
and their dupes, because of their dealings with Joan." In this,
France is Voltaire's faithful disciple. It is not too much to say
that his chief desire is to have his readers believe that the
Church has always used Joan for her own interests. She used
the Maid once to end a war that was ruining her; she uses her
now to regain prestige. What makes matters worse is that the
Church basely condemned Joan during life while the English
had the upper hand, and restored her good name after death
when the French had gained the victory. f Worse yet, the
Church stubbornly misrepresents her, and sets before us an un-
real Joan, in the hope of profiting thereby. Joan often and
unhesitatingly declared on solemn occasions that she trusted
her own conscience rather than the heads of the Church ; yet
she is pictured as a very humble, docile Catholic, a believer
in the Papal claims, an Ultramontane. Joan gave no proof of
military talent; she was very weak during her last days; she
was never anything but a wretched victim of hallucinations ;
yet people speak highly of the part she played and of her cour-
age, and try to make her out an envoy from God.

Anatole France's Joan of Arc will have nothing divine in
her ; in fact, she will have but few of those extraordinary qual-
ities that many freethinkers have extolled in the real Joan.
He writes:

Freethinkers of our times, impressed as most ol them are
by Spiritualism, refuse to recognize in Joan not only that

* Vie de Jeanne d'Arc, t. I., p. 62. fT. I., p. 20.

236 ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.,

auto-suggestion which determines the acts of a seer like her,
and the influence of a perpetual hallucination, but also the
suggestions of the religious spirit. What she did through
sanctity and devotion, they attribute to a reasoning state of
ecstasy. We find such tendencies in the honest and learned
Quicherat, who unwittingly throws a great deal of eclectic
philosophy into Joan's piety. This point of view has its diffi-
culties. It leads freethinking historians to form an absurdly
exaggerated estimate of this child's intellectual faculties,
ridiculously to attribute to her military talents, and to substi-
tute a polytechnic phenomenon for the artless marvel of the
fifteenth century. Catholic historians of our day are closer to
nature and to truth when they make the Maid a saint. Un-
fortunately the idea of sanctity has greatly degenerated in
the Church since the Council of Trent, and orthodox his-
torians are very little inclined to acquaint themselves with
the vagaries of the Catholic Church|through the ages. As a
consequence, they set the Maid before us as at once a saint
and a modern. So far do they go that if one were asked to
point out the most strangely travestied of all the different
Joans of Arc, one would hesitate between their miraculous
protectress of Christian France, the patron of officers and
subalterns, the inimitable model of Saint Cyr cadets, and
the romantic druidess, the inspired soldieress, the patriot
gunneress of the Republicans, if a Jesuit father had not come
along to make an Ultramontane Joan of Arc for us.*

M. Anatole France is neither an Ultramontane nor a pro-
fessional patriot. Far from it ! Consequently, he is right at
home in bringing Joan down to the level of the sad reality —
the reality set before us, according to him, by history and
science.

We will see that he has not succeeded in his self-chosen
task. But, alas ! how many of his readers have had their ad-
miration of our saintly heroine sorely shaken by M. France's
talent and great cleverness ?

The considerable success which his work has rapidly achieved
is partly due to public curiosity and to his anti- clericalism.
His freethinking friends, all-powerful at present, and the in-
ternationalists, with whom he willingly coquets, have given him
a hearty welcome, so ably does he labor in the cause of irre-
ligion and so skillfully does he minimize the " saint of patriot-
ism." On the other hand, the world was very curious to know

•T. I., pp. 37-38.

i9o8.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S i( JOAN OF ARC:' 237

how M. France, the Dreyfusard academician, the satirical and
plain-speaking novelist, would conceive and paint the Maid whom
the Church is about to canonize.

All this is true. But it is just to add that M. Anatole
France's success may be still further explained by his artful way
of flattering his readers and by his literary ability.

How many charming descriptions he gives, and how well he
says things ! There are no interminable controversies, no weari-
some notes in his book, but an unbroken story, judiciously en*
riched, in a way that can be felt "with the form and the sub-
stance of ancient texts," * a story in which the utmost care has
been taken to preserve the " tone of the times," without ex-
aggeration or affectation, and the "archaic forms of language
have been preferred," f lli so *ar as tney are intelligible. What
an artist M. France is !

And how skillfully he makes the supernatural and the mi-
raculous vanish. Our little Joan, with her visions and voices
and success — he seems to explain them all very well. He re-
minds one of Kenan's Life of Jesus. Renan was more " reli-
gious," more edifying. He broke out into soul-stirring passages
about the "sweet Master" or the "melancholy Giant" of Pal-
estine ; he addressed delightful apostrophes to the young Prophet
of Nazareth, to the "Son of God." Despite his air of candor
and kindliness, M. France is more given to mocking, to jesting,
and also to broad speech. Yet he is no less pleasing and en-
tertaining. At times he tells unsavory anecdotes which are not
necessary to his story, for the sole purpose of gratifying his
readers' spirit of levity. How many pages, otherwise almost
wholly worthless, are written with undeniable skill for the very
same purpose !

M. Anatole France has succeeded in having himself read
and also believed by those who are caught, held, and seduced
by a fine phrase, a charming description, a flash of wit, or an
elegant trifle. For most of them the case is settled. To the
Church Joan has always been merely a means, an instrument
for extricating herself from difficulties and for establishing her
authority. M. France has proved it.

These superficial, unthinking people do not see that there
is at least an apparent contradiction in what M. Anatole France
has written. On the one hand, Joan allows herself to be led

•TI., p. 80. fTI., p. 81.

238 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.,

about like* a fool ; on the other, she prefers her own feeling to
that of the Church. I do not wish to insist on this point, nor
to examine whether the contradiction is real. It is better to
show without delay that Joan was not the proud egotist she is
pictured, nor the dupe of unscrupulous clerics.

Her judges at Rouen tried to draw out of her some word
of rebellion against the Church. Was not that the best way
to ruin her? It seems very probable even, that when she was
in prison, many pretended friends advised her to refuse sub-
mission to the Church. One thing, at any rate, is certain. In
speaking to her they used words which she did not understand
at first. The Church militant was, she believed, the judges
who were trying her — that is, her persecutors. She boldly re-
fused to submit to their judgment. She had a right to do so.
Even after it was explained to her that the " militant Church "
meant all the Church authorities, she persisted the more fre-
quently in appealing from them to God, to our Lord, to our
Lady, and to all the saints in heaven. The reason why she
acted thus was because she felt that so far as she was con-
cerned, her judges and enemies had reduced the Church mili-
tant to the Bishop Cauchon and the vice-inquisitor whom
Cauchon controlled. The proof is that when she was asked :
" Do you think that you are bound to give full, complete
answers to the Pope, the Vicar of God?" she replied: "Take
me before him and I will answer all I ought to answer.'* It
is true that under other circumstances, she declared, on March
31, 1431, that she wanted to obey God before all else. "Our
Lord God being first obeyed." These spirited words are in no
wise contrary to the docility required by the Church. This was
well understood by her enemies. When Joan again and again
declared at the cemetery of Saint-Ouen that she left her cause
in the hands of God and the Pope, they were content with re-
plying: "It is impossible to go to the Pope at Rome." Her
appeal to the Pope and a council, from the judge who was
also her mortal enemy, does not prove her unsubmissive. The
bishop is not, as they told her, sole judge in his diocese. Ul-
tramontanes are not alone in saying this; every Catholic be-
lieves it.

Joan of Arc, then, was not the rebellious individualist they
try to make her out. Was she the unconscious dupe her latest
historian imagines ? M. Anatole France is sure that the court

I9Q8.J ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 239

and the churchmen who were partisans of Charles VII. skillful-
ly made use of her to further their mutual interests. He writes
as follows :

I have not questioned Joan's sincerity. She cannot be
suspected of lying ; she believed firmly that she had received
her mission from her voices. It is more difficult to know
whether or not she was unconsciously guided by others.
What we know about her before her arrival at Chinon
amounts to very little. We are led to believe * that she had
undergone certain influences. It is the way with all visionar-
ies— an unseen director leads them. It must have been so with
/oan. At Vaucouleurs she was heard saying that the Dau-
phin had the kingdom " in commendam." She did not learn
that phrase from her village folk. She was reciting a pro-
phecy which she had not invented herself, but which had evi-
dently been made up for her.

She must have been with priests who were partisans of the
Dauphin Charles, and were anxious to have the war ended.
Abbeys had been burned, churches pillaged, divine worship
abolished. These pious people who sighed for peace, seeing
that the treaty of Troyes had not brought it about, placed all
their hope in the expulsion of the English. t

. . . Sufficient attention has not been paid to the fact
that the French party was very clever in setting her at work.
The clerics of Poitiers set her off to advantage by examining
her in a leisurely way concerning her habits and her iaith.
These clerics of Poitiers were not religious, unacquainted with
the ways of the world. They were the Parliament of the law-
ful king, exiles irom the University, men deep in the affairs
of the kingdom and very much concerned in revolutions,
men stripped of their property, ruined, and extremely im-
patient to return unto their own. The ablest man in the
Council, the Archbishop-Duke of Rheims, chancellor of the
kingdom, was at their head. By the length and solemnity
of their questions they centered on Joan the curiosity, the in-
terest, and the hopes of the astonished crowds. J

. . . What were the true relations between the royal
Council and the Maid ? We do not know. That is a secret
which will never be revealed. The judges at Rouen thought
they knew that she received letters from Saint Michael. It is
possible that her simple faith was sometimes abused. We
have reason to believe that the march on Rheims was not

* We have put in the italics in this and subsequent passages.
tT. I., pp. 38-39. t T. I., pp. 41-42.

240 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.,

suggested to her in France, but it is certain that the Chancel-
lor of the kingdom, Messire Regnault de Chartres, Arch-
bishop of Rheims, was very anxious to be seated again on the
throne of the Blessed Remy, and to enjoy again his benefices.*

It must have been so. . . We are led to believe. . . .

// is the way with all the visionaries. . . It is possible,

etc. Give us proofs, my good sir, something besides insinua-
tions and suppositions, f

That the interests of certain churchmen, of Mgr. Regnault
de Chartres in particular, coincided with the mission of Joan,
or that their conduct helped the Maid, is not a proof that they
suggested this mission to her or that they turned her to their
own account. Why is the assertion made that Joan could have
learned the term " in commendam " only from clerics who were
whispering to her what to say and do ? " She was reciting a
prophecy, which she had not invented herself, but which had
evidently been made up for her." What are such assertions
worth ? What are we to think of this argument on which M.
France continually relies ?

Joan seems to have applied to herself a certain prophecy
which declared that " France would be ruined by a woman
(Isabel of Bavaria) and then restored by a virgin from the
Marches of Lorraine." Whence does this prophecy come ? Or,
to broaden out our inquiry, whence come the varied prophecies
which were current at that time, and which were falsely ascribed
to Merlin the Enchanter J and to Venerable Bede ? Merlin is
made to say that a wonder-working .virgin would come from
Boischesnu, and Bede that this virgin would come in 1429.

Joan knew nothing of Merlin's prophecy until she reached
Chinon. Bede's was not in circulation until she was in Orleans.
Again we ask: Who made up those prophecies and set them
agoing ? M. France writes :

If this revised prophecy of Merlin's is not the one that Joan
heard at the village, saying that a maiden would come from

*T. L.p.44-

t " One would have to know very little about human nature," Michelet once wrote, " to
think that when her hopes were thus shattered, she (Joan of Arc) still retained an unshaken
faith. It is not certain that she uttered the word (of recantation) but I assert that she thought
it " (History of France, Vol. VI., p. 208). Michelet trusted his intuitions. M. France does the
same. They are of the same school — the school in which imagination and conjecture often
take the place of the documentary evidence.

\ The prophecy found in the Historia. Britonum makes no mention of Boischesnu, etc.
Bois-Chesnu (bois de chenes) was about a mile and a half from Joan's paternal home.

i9o8.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 241

the Marches of Lorraine to save the kingdom, it is a first-
cousin to it. They bear a family resemblance ; they were both
launched in the same spirit and for the same purpose. We
must see herein an indication of an agreement between the
clerics of the Meuse and those of the Loire to focus attention
on the miracle-worker of Domremy.*

A little further on M. France adds the following:

These false prophecies give us a glimpse of the means by
which Joan was brought into action. Doubtless they are
somewhat too artificial for us. Those clerics considered only
the end — the peace of the kingdom and of the Chnrch. The
way had to be paved for that miracle. Do not be overmuch
annoyed by the discovery of those pious frauds, without
which the Maid's miracles could not have been effected.
Some art and even a little trickery is always required to win
a hearing for innocence. t

These phrases, Renanesque in the highest degree, clearly
indicate M. France's thought. "Pious frauds; agreement be-
tween the clerics of different parts of the country; the clerics
made up the false prophecies." But why, we ask, does he
accuse the churchmen rather than others?

Who acquainted her with the prophecy which said that
France would be re-established by a maid from the Marches
of Lorraine ? Was it a peasant ? We have reason to believe
that the peasants did not know this prophecy, and that she
was always with religious. Furthermore, to be perfectly cer-
tain of the truth in this matter, we need only take note of the
fact that Joan had heard a special version of this prophecy —
a version plainly cut out for her, for it specifically stated that
the restoring maiden would come from the Marches of Lor-
raine. The mention of this locality could not be the work of
a cowherd ; it betrays a mind skilled in the guidance of souls
and the control of conduct. Doubt is no longer possible.
The prophecy thus rounded out and set at work, comes from
some cleric whose intentions are easy to see. Thenceforth we
catch glimpses of a thought which lies heavy on the young
visionary and drives her on. This churchman from the
banks of the Meuse, while out in the quiet fields, thought
over the lot of his unhappy people, and, in the hope of turn-
ing Joan's visions to account for the good of the kingdom and
the bringing about of peace, he went so far in his pious zeal

- *T.I. ,-p. 204. fTX I.,p..ao7.

VOL. LXXXVTU. — 16

242 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.,

as \o gather up some prophecies concerning the safety of the
lilies of France, and to fill them out with details suited to his
purpose, He was a priest or religious, from either Lorraine
or Champagne who suffered severely from the public misfor-
tune.* . . . Joan associated a great deal with priests and
monks. She was in the habit of visiting her uncle, the Cure
of Sermaize, and of calling to see her cousin, a young pro-
fessed religious in the abbey of Chaminon, who was soon to
follow her into France. Thus she found herself connected
with many ecclesiastics who were very quick to recognize her
singular piety and the gift she had received of seeing things
which were invisible to the crowd. If the talks they had with
her had been handed down to us> they would doubtless reveal to
us the sources of her extraordinary vocation. One of those
men, whose name will never be known, prepared an angelic
defender for the king and the kingdom of France. t

" If they had been handed down to us" That shows they
were not. Consequently, they are made up purely and simply
out of the imagination. M. France admits also that our knowl-
edge of Joan's uncle and cousin, whom he mentions, rests on
very sharply suspected genealogical documents. In that case,
all we have had from M. France is pure hypothesis, and he
does not prove that the prophecies in question are the work
of churchmen. Beyond all this, even if it were certain that
some clerics had craftily helped Joan to accomplish her mis-
sion, it would not follow that they had suggested it to her.
For us this is precisely the essential point. Joan had already
seen and heard her angels and saints before she knew any-
thing about the prophecies. Now we will see that her voices
and her visions came from heaven. Why not her vocation of
liberatrix as well ? There is nothing, absolutely nothing, to
prove the contrary.

We must also call attention to this that a few clerics do not
constitute the Church, and that even when some of them are
guilty of pious frauds, one has no right to blame the Church.

This elementary distinction must always be borne in mind
when one speaks of Joan, of the Church, and of their mutual
relations. Joan is unwilling to submit to certain Churchmen —
she does not thereby refuse to submit to the Church. Certain
clerics — this is a gratuitous supposition, for it has not been

* T. I., pp. 51-52. t T. I., p. 54.

1908.] AN ATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 243

proved — played on the simplicity of Joan and on the credulity
of the crowd — no one has a right to say that the people were
deceived by the Church. The bishop, Cauchon, the vice-inquis-
itor, Jean Lematre, the judges at Rouen, the University of
Paris, together with a few Italian and German ecclesiastics, are
not the Church, the Church in its entirety, the Universal
Church. M. France ought to remember that such forgetful-
ness is hardly excusable in the uneducated and unthinking.
Why then are people so ready to charge the Church with the
fault of some among her members? Why, again, are they so
dreadfully scandalized because priests, bishops, and popes are
not all saints ; and because some of them made mistakes in
grave circumstances ? Alas, we are all weak and although the
clergy as a body is still the most virtuous class of men, no
one of its members is without sin. Truly I am astonished to
have that considered a crime in us. As for infallibility — the
Pope himself possesses that prerogative only in doctrinal matters
and when he speaks as Supreme Teacher of the whole Church.
Do freethinkers dream of a Church whose chiefs would all be
infallible and impeccable, always and in all things ?

For that matter, we have no great reason to blush for the
attitude of the Church or of churchmen towards Joan of Arc,
whether in the fifteenth century or in our own. To read M.
Anatole France, one would think that the clerics of Poitiers,
those who took part in the process of condemnation or in that
of rehabilitation, as well as those who recently prepared the de-
cree which proclaimed the heroic character of Joan's virtues,
together with the Pope who signed it, had all, or nearly all,
of them nothing in view but their own personal interest or the
interests of their Church, and that hardly one of them cared
for either justice or truth. They are all fools or knaves. To
be sure, M. France, who is not a M. Homais but a very thor-
ough gentleman, does not use such low phrases ; but at heart
he would be very well pleased to have his readers form such
a judgment of us.

Are we in truth such rascals or fools, such self-seekers,
such egotists ? Does Joan's past or present history show us
in so hateful a light ?

M. France has two chapters on the Maid at Poitiers. He
makes the clerics who examined Joan there appear simply
grotesque. Yet, when we take up a truth-loving book, which

244 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.,

does not aim, like M. France's, at making the clergy ridicu-
lous and odious, and read the story of the inquiry at Poitiers,
we find not a single fact to the dishonor of the priests who
examined the Maid. The conclusion reached by those vener-
able doctors breathes prudence and wisdom:

The king, taking into account his own and the country's
needs, and considering the continual prayers offered up to
God by his unhappy people and by all who love peace and
justice, should not dismiss or reject the Maid who says she
has been sent by God to help him, not even if those promises
are merely human ; nor, on the other hand, should he believe
in her lightly or speedily. But, in accordance with Holy
Writ, he should try her in two ways.

Now Joan, the doctors continue, has been proved in the
first way and " no evil has been found in her, but only good ;
humility, virginity, etc." As for the sign asked of her, the
Maid declared she would give it before the city of Orleans. The
king, then, should not keep her from going to Orleans with
his troops, but, hoping in God, he should have her brought
thither in fitting fashion. To be afraid of her, or to put her
away when there is no sign of evil in her, would be to fight
against the Holy Spirit and to render himself unworthy of
God's help.* No decision, surely, could be wiser.

In telling the story of her condemnation, M. Anatole France
wants to make a two- fold impression on his readers. First,
that Joan was not so brave as has been said; and that, on
several occasions, she doubted her voices and her mission.
Secondly, that most of her judges, while they respected the
forms of law, listened only to their hatred, their prejudices,
their prepossessions, their ambition, or their interests ; while
Joan's friends, who should have defended, basely abandoned her.

Let us lay aside for the moment the question of Joan's
courage. So far as the judges are concerned, the appearances
are very much as M. France says, and the facts fit in, to a
certain extent, with the appearances. Still, even here we must
guard against exaggeration. For, as has been very justly
written: "It was not merely to obey the English and to sat-
isfy Cauchon that so many doctors condemned Joan of Arc.
They were not all bought. Many sincerely believed that the

* T. I., p. 247-248.

1908.] ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 245

firmness of the accused was resistance to the authority of the
Church. Cauchon very skillfully seduced the credulous by
means of this argument, just as he won over the clear-headed
by other means. Everything, money, threats, promises, cor-
ruption, and even scruples — were used to destroy the victim.
The judges were not all equally infamous. Many were merely
blinded by prejudice. To say that does not greatly relieve
the dignity of human nature, but we must for all that grant
it the benefit of that slightly extenuating circumstance." *

In the same way I am willing to grant that the clerics of
Poitiers and the Archbishop of Rhiems, to whom Cauchon,
Bishop of Beauvais, was a suffragan, as well as Charles VII.,
did not do their best to save Joan of Arc. But, alas! it is
only too easy to understand how her reverses and, later on,
her condemnation, had disturbed her friends. What were they
to think of her very victories ? Had there been sorcery in
her achievements? or chance? or illusions? Doubt had en-
tered into their hearts. Embarrassed and downcast, they took
refuge in silence, as if they thought in their hearts : " It is
God's place to defend her, if He sent her." f

Twenty years later, when victory had settled down on the
banners of Charles VII., when the English had been driven
out of France, and the final triumph had vindicated Joan, her
friends did not fail to press for her rehabilitation. M. Anatole
France has not the slightest suspicion that there is anything
more than a self-seeking policy in all that, but we have as
much reason to find a generous feeling in it. It is astonishing
to me that M. France, who has worked with such hot energy
for the revision of the Dreyfus trial, sees nothing but comedy
and self-seeking in the trial for the rehabilitation of Joan.
Truly there is nothing like the fanaticism of irreligion to make
a man unjust. To quote Petit de Julleville again:

Joan had been condemned by a bishop and by theologians
whose legal right to try her is open to debate, and whose in-
iquity, both in the course of the trial and in the twofold sen-
tence with which it ended, is perfectly evident. She was
cleared of this libelous sentence by the decree of a higher and
wholly disinterested tribunal. The King and the Pope had

*L. Petit de Julleville, La Venerable Jeanne d'Arc, pp. 171-172. L. Petit de Julleville,
who died recently, was a professor of the Faculty of Letters in the University of Paris. His
life of Joan of Arc appeared in 1900 in the justly valued collection, The Saints (Gabalda,
Paris, 90 rue Bonaparte). t Petit de Julleville, op. cit., p. 105.

246 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.,

nofhing to gain by this act of justice and of reparation. The
king reminded all that he had been long ungrateful or at least
forgetful. The Pope in reversing so slowly the unjust de-
cision of an ecclesiastical court, declared that he had been
deceived for a long time by the false reports he had received
from the University of Paris. Both the King and the Pope
must be praised all the more that they thought only of justice
in rehabilitating Joan of Arc.*

Precisely so !

Finally, is it very hard to understand the present attitude
of the Church towards Joan of Arc, without having recourse to
the hypothesis of self-seeking calculations ?

In 1869 Mgr. Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans, and twelve
other bishops, addressed a petition to Pius IX., with a view
to bring about the Maid's canonization. A first inquiry was
held at Orleans. Its conclusions were ratified by the Sacred
Congregation of Rites, and in consequence thereof, on January
27, 1894, Leo XIII. declared Joan a Venerable Servant of God
and introduced the cause of her beatification. Then after a
ten years' conscientious and minute examination, Pius X. pro-
claimed on January 6, 1904, that Joan " had practised the the-
ological and cardinal virtues, and those annexed to them, in
a heroic Jegree, so that from this point of view, there is noth-
ing against her beatification." There is every ground to hope
that we will not have to wait long to have her beatified and
finally canonized.

It must be admitted that the Church does not involve her
infallibility in the process of beatification, for her judgment is
not yet definitive. But let us suppose, for the sake of clear-
ness, that the last step has been taken, that the Church has
solemnly and definitively pronounced judgment as to the sanc-
tity of Joan ; let us suppose, in other words, that Joan has
been canonized. Our enemies, who are unwilling to see in this
slow procedure and these preliminary inquiries anything more
than a sham examination intended to dazzle and to deceive
the unreflecting, will cry out, as they have already, that now
more than ever Catholic historians will be obliged to picture
the Maid to themselves according to the ecclesiastical type,
without taking account of evidence or of science. How igno-
rant they are of the Church's teaching on this subject !

* Op. cit.t pp. 187-188.

1908.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 247

When Joan of Arc shall have been canonized, every Catho-
lic will have to believe that she is really in heaven and that
she practised virtue in a heroic degree while on earth. And
since Joan's heroic virtue can mean only heroic fidelity to her
mission, a Catholic will have to admit "a certain reality in that
mission ; then, a divine intervention ; and also a certain reality
in her visions and revelations taken as a whole."* Every Cath-
olic will have to believe this much, but nothing more. At the
same time Catholic historians and savants will enjoy a great
deal of liberty in treating of Joan.

' There is no reason why a heroic soul should not be liable
to passing, accidental illusions. Many canonized saints were
notoriously deceived in particular cases concerning interior
words, prophecies, and even visions." f Perpetual hallucina-
tions are incompatible with what the Church means by heroic
virtue. The divine mission of Joan also implies a certain real-
ity in her visions and revelations as a whole. She could not,
then, be the victim of perpetual hallucinations, as M. France
imagines. It is possible, however, that she sometimes had pass-
ing, accidental illusions. She may have taken imagined words
and imagined visions for exterior words and exterior visions ;f
she may have thought that she saw and heard outside of her
what — though real and supernatural — she saw and heard only
within herself. Her temperament finally, and her surroundings,
may have had some influence on her visions and her voices. §

In another way also Catholics have full liberty in writing
about Joan. She practised virtue in a heroic degree. Heroism
of virtue, of innocence, is incompatible with any grave fault,

y J. V. Bainvel, professor of Theology in the Catholic Institute of Paris, apropos of a
Life of Joan of Arc in the Revue du Clerge Frangais, May 15, 1908, p. 462. Letouzey et And.
Paris, 76 rue des Saints-Peres.

t J. V. Bainvel, op. cit., p. 460.

$ " Exterior or audible words are heard by the ear like natural words. One hears sounds
which are produced supernaturally. The imagined words, or messages, are likewise formed
of words, but are received directly without the help of the external organ of hearing. It may
be said that they are perceived by the imaginative sense. . . . Exterior, called also ocular
visions, are perceived by the eyes of the body. A material being takes shape or seems to take
shape outside of us, and we perceive it like everything around us. Imagined visions consist
also in seeing a material object but without the help of the eyes. It is perceived by the
imaginative sense." Aug. Poulain, S.J. Des Graces d'Oraison. 5th ed. 1906. Pp. 293-
295 (Retaux, Paris, 82 rue Bonaparte). In both cases there is a supernatural action.

§ Father Poulain's work, Des Graces d'Oraison, may be read with profit in the study of
these interesting and difficult, but generally unknown, questions. The fourth part deals with
visions and revelations. The twenty-first chapter, "Illusions to be Feared," is especially
suggestive.

248 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Nov.

and, therefore, Joan was not guilty of grave faults. Let all
that be granted. How many questions remain to be cleared
up by the findings of history or of the moral sciences ! Is not
heroic virtue compatible with a transient and somewhat blame-
worthy weakness ? Let us admit that the Church might refuse
to beatify or to canonize Joan if it were proved, after a due
consideration of the gravity of the circumstances, that she was
weak in the cemetery of Saint-Ouen, though the weakness
were but slightly culpable. For all that, one could not say
that the historical question of the abjuration in the cemetery
was settled by the mere beatification or canonization of Joan.
That would be going too fast. For there are many solutions
besides that of grave sin, or of a pardonable weakness, or of
the falsity of the charge.* " She might have signed it, for ex-
ample, without any thought of wrong- doing, under the influ-
ence of her treacherous advisers, or out of deference to eccle-
siastical authority, etc. We might perhaps admit a moment of
hardly conscious weakness, immediately atoned for by a heroic
disavowal." f

This shows that criticism may still be applied in the study
of Joan's life, and that Catholic historians of the Maid are not
bound to paint her for us in exactly the same way.| They
will go on viewing her in quite different lights, according to
their scientific opinions; and, above all, according to the faith
they put in this or that document or page of a document.
That will be their right. What is essential is that the Maid
they set before us be always the holy young girl who deserves
our esteem and veneration. It is essential, too, that their Joan
have nothing about her of the hateful caricature that M. France
substitutes for her.

We will show in our next article that when the documen-
tary evidence is carefully examined with reference to these, the
only essential points, it is with the Church and against M.
France.

* It is very probable, as we shall see later on in detail, that the formula of abjuration
found in the official reports of the trial, is not the one that was read to Joan, nor even a sim-
ple development of it.

t J. V. Bainvel, art. cit., p. 463.

J As a matter of fact, the biographies of Joan by Petit de Julleville, M. Marius Sepet, and
Wallon are not like those written by M. 1'Abbd Dunand, M. le Chanoine Debout, and Pere
Ayroles.

(TO BE CONTINUED )

flew Books.

It is so rare nowadays to find a

ESSAYS ON THE APOCA- layman equipped in any of the
LYPSE. ecclesiastical sciences, that the ap-

pearance of a volume of exegesis

from the pen of a gallant colonel in the service of Great Britain
is, independent of the intrinsic quality of the book, a pleasing
surprise. The subject of the work is the Apocalypse.* "Ah !"
you say knowingly, " I understand; another fantastic key to
the number of the beast, and the whereabouts of Armagedon,
the identification of Anti- Christ, evolved from the consciousness
of the interpreter." Not at all. This is a serious work, de-
serving of consideration. Some time ago the author published,
under the nom de plume of J. J. Elar, a study on the Apoca-
lypse which met with favorable appreciation. The present pub-
lication is an amplification of the former.

The first question the writer poses for solution is to fix the
authorship and date of the work. He argues for the date 67
A. D., relying chiefly on internal indications which show, he
holds, that the motive of the work was to sustain the Chris-
tians during actual persecution. The argument drawn from
Dionysius of Alexandria, by those who would fix the date in
the reign of Domitian, is put aside on the ground that, in the
passage relied upon, Dionysius is not dealing with the date of
Revelation, but with the beast of the Apocalypse, whom he
took to be Anti-Christ: "He assumed, in passing, without ar-
gument or comment, that the Apocalypse was seen in Domi
tian's reign." "He wrote of when the book was seen, not of
the date of its writing." The authorship is ascribed, without
reservation, to St. John the Evangelist.

The next question considered is the identification of the
beast, and the reason why the key to the Apocalypse was so
early lost. There is no reference, the author holds, to a per-
sonal Anti-Christ in the Apocalypse; this idea is a growth of
subsequent times. The beast is the Roman Government. The
key was lost through the very cryptical character of the writ-

* Essays on the Apocalypse. By James I. L. Ratton, M.D., etc. New York: Benziger
Brothers.

250 NEW BOOKS Nov.,

ing. This style was adopted by St. John in order that the
document, which was of a highly political and secret character,
might evade the scrutiny of Roman officials, and yet be intel-
ligible to the brethren for whose comfort it was intended. The
second beast, or "the false prophet" the writer argues, is the
pagan hierarchy ; and Armagedon is the battle of Chalons-sur-
Marne, in which Attila overthrew an immense Roman army,
opening to himself the road to Italy and Rome. In the "Seven
Churches of Asia/* Colonel Ratton finds a prophetic presenta-
tion of the history of the Catholic Church. " Knowing what
we know now of the Seven Churches of Asia, can we suppose
that the awful and magnificent visions and predictions of the
Apocalypse were specially intended for them ? The answer to
that question is this. Those churches ran their short course
and died out centuries ago, without succeeding in interpreting
the Apocalypse. It was a sealed book to them, and they re-
jected it. If we apply these messages to the seven ages of
the Catholic Church, they correspond with the facts of history
in a very remarkable way; and what is more, they strengthen
the divine claim of the Catholic Church on all serious students
of the Apocalypse." The author's essay to work out this ap-
plication is ingenious, rather than convincing ; especially where
he finds that the Church of Sardis, the Church of the Refor-
mation, came to an end about the Victorian era, and out of it
has grown the Church of Philadelphia, the present age, when,
throughout the English-speaking world, there is a mighty move-
ment towards the Catholic Church.

The conviction is growing among
SPIRITUALISM. many who observe the signs of

the times that Spiritualism is be-
coming a real and active danger to the faith of many Catho-
lics. That this opinion is entertained in high quarters may be
inferred from the fact that a gentleman whose publications have
conferred on him the authority of an expert on the topic has
been charged by one of the highest officials of the Curia to
come to America and deliver, if possible, in all our seminaries,
a course of lectures on the nature and the dangers of spiritual-
ism. An English priest, in the course of a series of sermons,*
which attracted so much attention that he has been induced to

* Sermons on Modern Spiritualism. By A. V. Millar, O.S.C. St. Louis: B. Herder.

1908.] NEW BOOKS

251

publish them, declares that this religion — for a religion he de-
clares it is — has made great inroads on the Christian faith in
England.

As a matter of fact, a little attention and inquiry would
show that Spiritualism is, at the present time, full of vitality
and activity, and that its vigor and growth is daily increas-
ing. Perhaps we Catholics hear less about it than non-
Catholics. . . . Nevertheless, there is always danger of
unfervent and unwary Catholics being drawn into the meshes
of this snare, and once within the snare either the fascination
of imagining themselves to be in communication with the
dead, or the relentless tyranny of the spirits makes it a mat-
ter of extreme difficulty to recover themselves. There is
abundant evidence to hand that many Catholics are thus en-
trapped.

The gist of Father Millar's sermons is to present the nature
and dangers of Spiritualism in much the same light as they
appear in Mr. G. Raupert's book The Dangers of Spiritualism.
After all reasonable deduction is made for fraud and charlatan-
ism, so runs the preacher's burden, there remain a mass of
well- attested facts that can be ascribed only to preternatural
agencies. These agencies, according to the Spiritualist claim,
are disembodied spirits of the dead ; the fact is that they are
diabolical. Their purpose is, by lying and by deceitfully play-
ing on the susceptibilities of the men and women who put
themselves in communication with them, to destroy their faith
in God, future punishment, and all the other truths of Chris-
tianity. These spirits parade under false names; they make
false and often contradictory statements on religious subjects;
if they sometimes give utterance to noble or pious sentiments,
this is done only to inspire a confidence which they mean to
abuse. Father Millar draws an appalling picture of the tyran-
ny which the spirits establish over their victims. The sitter at
the spiritualistic seance is required to hold his will in a state
of "passivity. This passivity constitutes a very grave danger.
By suspending the exercise of our free will frequently in this
manner we may induce a habit, with the result that we shall
no longer be able to resist the spirits, and we shall pass under
their domination to the ruin of our health, our peace, and, in
many cases, ultimately of our reason.

252 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

For these assertions Father Millar brings forward a thick
array of proof. On the subject of insanity as the outcome of
spiritualistic practices, he quotes many authorities, among them
the eminent alienist, Dr. Forbes Winslow, and one of his own
acquaintances :

Only a few weeks ago I was speaking to a physician who
had been himself in charge of an asylum, and he had exactly
the same story to tell, viz., that a considerable proportion of
those who are confined in our asylums are there in conse-
quence of dabbling in Spiritualism. He added that in his
own practice, during the previous six months, he had had
quite twenty cases of insanity arising entirely from this
cause.

Father Millar's denunciation of these dangerous and per-
nicious practices is strong enough to be an efficacious deter-
rent to any Catholic who might be tempted to make experi-
ment of Spiritualism. Evidently, however, a promiscuous dif-
fusion of his book might easily do as much harm as good ;
and the same may be said of preaching sermons on Spiritual-
ism. Where, as is the case in most instances, Catholics be-
lieve that Spiritualism is nothing but deceit and delusion, why
take pains to convince them that they are wrong, and thereby,
perhaps, evoke a dangerous curiosity that may lead them to
the mediums and the seance parlors ?

While the literature of the results

SOPHIA RYDER. of the Oxford movement is rich

in the biographies of men who

came to the Church in the wake of Newman, very few women
have obtained a similar celebrity. It is pleasing to find the
name of one who well deserves the honor recorded permanently
in a modest and charming biography.* Sophia Ryder, who
was born in 1817, was a daughter of the Honorable and Right
Rev. Henry Ryder, Bishop, first of Gloucester, and afterwards
of Lichfield and Coventry. Her brother, who married the
sister of Archdeacon Manning's wife, was a friend of Manning
and James Hurrell Froude; and when he became a rector drew
attention to himself by his ritualistic innovations. Sophia be-

* A Conversion and a Vocation. Sister Mary of the Sacred Heart. Westminster: Art &
Book Company.

1908.]

NEW BOOKS

253

gan, in 1845, to pass through the great conflict that was then
trying the souls of so many ; and, shortly after, in company
with her brother, went to Rome. Here light grew apace, as
she came in contact with many Catholics. Her brother ex-
acted a promise that she would not take any decisive step for
some time. Then he fell sick, and during his illness under-
went a heart-searching that transformed him.

A long and restless night was spent in a serious review of
his own position. " What," he asked himself, " would I do
if I were sure I was going to die of this illness ? ' ' Then he
thought over the consequences that would follow such a step ;
the martyrdom, not indeed of the sword like the martyrs of
the catacombs, but one hardly less real, of bitter words and
contempt, and loss of home and house, of the means of edu-
cating his children, and hardest, perhaps, of all, of providing
for their delicate mother in anything like the way she had
been accustomed to.

But the maxim " Seek first the Kingdom of God " pre-
vailed.

Next morning he awoke well, got up as usual, and his
morning greeting to his sister was : " Well, dear, are you
ready to enter the Church of Rome — the Holy Catholic
Church?" Sophia could hardly believe her ears. She had
just come from Mass, and had been wondering in our lord's
presence how she was to tell her brother that she dared not
put off asking to be received into the Church any longer.

Sophia was received very soon after, and in a short time
entered the novitiate of the Order of the Good Shepherd near
London. As a Sister of the Good Shepherd the remainder of
her long life was passed in various places — Bristol, Malta,
Liverpool, Glasgow — till at length she died at Finchley Con-
vent, near London, at the age of eighty-four. The story of
these years is briefly told ; for the incessant sacrifice of a Good
Shepherd nun offers little to the chronicler except those recur-
rent scenes of grace and repentance brought about by her
labors for the outcast. Of these there are some touching in-
stances in this little volume.

254 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

This volume* is adapted to the
BIBLE STUDIES. wants of the Sunday- School. It

consists of a series of biographies

of the most prominent teachers and leaders of ancient Israel,
of St. John the Baptist, the Apostles, and the Evangelists.
Each story is an amplification of the Bible history, accom-
panied with elucidating observations and edifying reflections.
The narrative flows easily in a simple, clear style ; and is in-
terspersed with information that helps the pupil to understand
the history. Dr. Mullany sticks stanchly to traditional exe-
gesis, and does not perplex the pupil by even suggesting any
of tlie debatable questions that are discussed by the most or-
thodox Scriptural scholars. This book might do a great ser-
vice outside the Sunday-School if it could find its way into
the hands of the laity at large, where there is but little knowl-
edge of the Bible.

In many respects the history of
LOURDES. Lourdes and its cures, by Dr.

Bertin, f which has been trans-
lated into English for the Westminster series, is the most sat-
isfactory work that we possess on the subject. In many others
an excess of emotionalism spoils the value of their evidence
to the miraculous.

On the other hand, Dr. Bertin, though not lacking in fer-
vor and piety, does not allow the expression of his faith to
interfere with his main purpose. This purpose is to set forth,
with invincible clearness, the evidence that exists to prove, in
the first instance, the indisputably miraculous character of the
visions of Bernadette; and, in the second place, the equally
miraculous nature of some of the most remarkable cures which
have taken place at the Grotto of Lourdes, and, in one in-
stance, at a shrine of our Lady of Lourdes in Belgium. His
method is to state the facts that are known to have occurred,
to cite the eyewitnesses who testified to them, and then to
take up successively the various explanations offered by those
who refuse to believe in any miraculous intervention. He draws
up his case with the care of a lawyer for the laws of evidence,

* Bible Studies. By Rev. John F. Mullany, LL.D. Syracuse : The Mason-Henry Press.
f Lourdes. A History of Its Apparitions and Cures. By Georges Bertin. Translated by
Mrs. Philip Gibbs. New York: Benziger Brothers.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 255

and with a scientist's scrupulous devotion to facts and nothing
but facts. After relating the history of Bernadette's experi-
ences, in the first chapter, he proceeds, in the next, to exam-
ine it critically in order to show that she was sincere and
could not have been the victim of hallucination.

In the selection of cures, .all doubtful and insignificant ones
are set aside ; such only are chosen as from the nature of the
case compel attention. The evidence, usually that of medical
men, witnessing to the patient's preceding condition, usually
judged an incurable one, is first stated ; then the fact and cir-
cumstance of the cure ; and finally, testimony from persons
who examined the patient after the miracle had been performed.

He disposes of • the various theories that unbelievers have
resorted to in order to gainsay the miraculous character of the
cures — suggestion, auto-suggestion, and the natural therapeutic
quality of the water. The diseases of those patients whose
cases he has selected, and the manner of the cures, he shows
to be a sufficient answer to these allegations.

No open, unbiassed mind can resist the force of this book.
As a contemporary witness to the supernatural it is worth car
loads of dialectic apologetics, for a certain type of mind. Ag-
nostics, who are impervious to the classic arguments for the
existence of God, will find here reasons for belief which, if
they are true to their own principles, they cannot set aside.
The supernatural character of Lourdes challenges the investi-
gation of scientists. Yet, contrary to the first principle of their
scientific creed, sceptical scientists refuse to examine. As the
author of the Preface to this volume says :

We ask that the miracles of Lourdes should not be denied
without examination, but should be submitted to a careful
and searching examination ; but Science, as represented by a
very considerable number of learned men, declines to investi-
gate at all. This refusal, this easy method of setting aside
evidence, is so utterly unscientific as to deserve the strongest
reprobation even of men who pretend to nothing beyond that
amount of common sense which is supposed to be the very
basis of all Science.

The sceptical man of science who exhausts the vocabulary
of contempt in scoffing at the blind prejudice of the theologian
shows himself to be completely dominated by prejudice and

256 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

prepossession when asked to examine the proofs of miraculous
intervention. A striking and typical instance of this truth is
to be found in Huxley's verdict on Lourdes. In the Life of
Huxley there is a letter of his friend, Sir Joseph Hooker, re-
lating to a tour they made together in France in 1873. At
that time Lourdes was the most talked of subject everywhere
in that country. Huxley became interested in it. Did he go
to examine for himself, as a true scientist ? No ; " He got
together all the treatises upon it, favorable or the reverse, that
were accessible, and, I need hardly add, soon arrived at the
conclusion that the so-called miracles were in part illusions and
in part delusions." His opinion on the apparitions was as fol-
lows : " It was a case of two peasant children sent in the hot-
test month of the year into a hot valley to collect sticks for
firewood washed up by a stream, when one of them, after stoop-
ing down opposite a heat reverberating rock, was, in rising, at-
tacked with a transient vertigo, under which she saw a figure
in white against the rock. This bare fact being reported to
the cure of the village, all the rest followed." Thus, with a
wave of the hand, the apostle of fact and personal verification
dispenses himself from living up to his professions and falls
into the slough of apriorism.

Since we, and everybody who

A HAPPY HALF CENTURY, reads, welcomed Miss Repplier's
By Agnes Repplier. delightful account of the harmless

necessary cat, so many years have

elapsed without any successor to the Sphinx of the Fireside,
that one was beginning to ask whether Miss Repplier had not
made up her mind to discontinue her pleasant, personally con-
ducted, tours through the byways of literature. This want of
trust is rebuked by the appearance of a little volume of essays*
which confirms the judgment of the critic who declared that
Miss Repplier possesses and monopolizes the almost lost art of
essay writing.

Her present theme is the taste for platitudes, the care of
the commonplace, the pharisaism, the affectation and prudery,
the turgid rhapsodies, the fripperies and frumperies, which,
during the last quarter of the eighteenth and the first quarter

* A Happy Half Century ; and other Essays. By Agnes Repplier, Litt.D. Boston :
Houghton Mifflin Company.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 257

of the nineteenth century, obtained, for a number of literary
ladies of mediocre merit, a fame which their admirers believed,
mistakenly, would be immortal. Miss Repplier seems to have
steeped herself in the literary history of the period. She knows
what everybody said or wrote about anybody ; and draws out
apposite illustration, epigram, incident, and anecdote from the
least expected quarters.

At her hands very badly, indeed, fare the poor friends of
our youth, Hannah More, Mrs. Barbauld, Mrs. Hemans, Letitia
E. Landon, Miss Porter, " The Swan of Litchfield," and many
lesser lights of the scribbling sisterhood to whom one of them-
selves awarded " the proud pre-eminence which, in all the varie-
ties of excellence produced by the pen, the pencil, or the lyre,
the ladies of Great Britain have attained over contemporaries
in every other country in Europe."

This mischievous iconoclast has taken an unholy delight in
stripping the shades of these fine writers "who delighted our
grandmothers" of the prerogatives and perfections assigned to
them by their contemporaries. She does not keep her irre-
verent hands off Mrs. Montagu or even Hannah More. That
supreme authority on literature, religion, and morality for the
refined circles of English society, comes in for particularly dis-
tressful handling. She says:

Mrs. Montagu, an astute woman of the world, recognized
in what we should now call an enfeebling propriety her most
valuable asset. It sanctified her attack upon Voltaire, it en-
abled her to snub Dr. Johnson, and it made her, in the opinion
of her friends, the natural and worthy opponent of Lord
Chesterfield. She was entreated to come to the rescue of
British morality by denouncing that nobleman's "profligate
letters " ; and we find the Rev. Montagu Penmngton lament-
ing, years afterwards, her refusal "to apply her wit and genius
to counteract the mischief Lord Chesterfield's volume had
done."

Then comes the turn of Miss Hannah and her admirers :

Hannah More's dazzling renown rested on the same solid
support. She was so strong morally that to have cavilled at
her intellectual feebleness would have been deemed profane.
Her advice (she spent the best part of eighty years in offering
it) was so estimable that its genuine inadequacy was never

VOL. LXXXVIII.— 17

258 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

ascertained. Rich people begged her to advise the poor.
Great people begged her to advise the humble. Satisfied
people begged her to advise the discontented. Sir William
Pepys wrote to her in 1792 imploring her to avert from Eng-
land the threatened dangers of radicalism and a division of
land by writing a dialogue " between two persons of the low-
est order," in which should be set forth the discomforts of
land ownership, and the advantages of laboring for small
wages at trades. This simple and childlike scheme would,
in Sir William's opinion, go far towards making English
workmen contented with their lot ; and might, eventually,
save the country from the terrible bloodshed of France.

And this incomparable tribute paid to Hannah was all ow-
ing to her "triumphant propriety/' and because she happened
to live in a happy age when unprofitable pietism was revered,
and there was a universal willingness in what supposed itself
to be the literary world to " accept a good purpose as a sub-
stitute for good work."

Miss Repplier feigns regret that her lines were not cast in
those goodly times :

A new era, cold, critical, contentious, deprecated the old
genial absurdities, chilled the old sentimental outpourings,
questioned the old profitable pietism. Unfortunates, born a
hundred years too late, look back with wistful eyes upon the
golden age which they feel themselves qualified to adorn.

In a strain of genial satire, enlivened with an unfailing flow
of humor, Miss Repplier discusses the literary fads of the pe-
riod— correspondence, album-making, annuals; the parental
pride over infantile precocity ; the narrowness of the education
supposed to be proper for a well-bred young lady ; the taw-
dry nature of what were then called fashionable accomplish-
ments. Miss Repplier is an omniverous reader, and a tireless
gatherer of all sorts of unconsidered trifles which she knows
how to weave into an entertaining essay.

In The Coming Harvest* M. Ba-
THE COMING HARVEST. zin draws a picture of some as-

pects of peasant life in France to-

* The Coming Harvest. By Rend Bazin. Translated by Edna K. Hoyt. New York :
Charles Scribner's Sons.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 259

day. In his own restrained, forcible manner, with a realism
that convinces but never descends to the repulsive, he allows
us to see with our own eyes the narrow, hopeless, sordid view
of life which unbelief and materialism has forced upon the
humbler rural class in France; the hate of the laborer for the
man of family and for the man of wealth ; the unreasonable
demands which socialistic agitators have taught him to make.
Besides laying bare the evil, M. Bazin indicates the manner in
which those who would strive to fight against it — the aristocrat
and the priest — may best achieve their purpose. The French
title — Le Ble qui Leve — offers the interpreter a choice of alter-
natives— it may mean that the present strife of classes will
continue to grow; or, that there is a hope that, beginning to
see their folly, the peasantry are showing some signs that they
will return to religion. The chief character, an honest, upright
pagan, after a varied experience of injustice and disloyalty at
the hands of his fellows, of ingratitude from his child, is, when
he has almost fallen into despair, drawn to religion, where he
finds peace.

As the light began to fade, he embraced with his glance
the whole round hill where he was going to begin his work
again on the morrow. The grass was beautiful. The fallow
lands were waiting for the plough. In many a place above
the broken lands, the grain lifted up its green point. Gilbert
uncovered his head and he said : " It matters little now to
live with others. Heat, cold, fatigue, or death matter little
now. My heart is at peace." He felt a great living joy
spring up of itself in his regenerated heart. And again he
said : " I am old, and yet I am happy now for the first time."

There is scarcely anything that might be called a plot;
but M. Bazin's art renders him independent of that resource
to woo the interest of the reader. The translation is correct
and idiomatic.

Again Miss Johnston takes her na-

LEWIS RAND. tive State for the scene, and a

By Mary Johnston. stirring phase of its political his-

tory for the thread of her story.*

* Lewis Rand. By Mary Johnston. With Illustrations by C. F. Yohn. New York :
Houghton Mifflin Company.

260 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

The time is that when the struggle was on between Federal-
ists and Republicans; Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr flit
across the stage, though they are not among the chief actors.
The political situation is but an occasion to develop the main
motive, which is to trace the influence of heredity on the char-
acter who gives the name to the story. Lewis Rand is the
son of a rude, violent tobacco roller, and the grandson of a
still more questionable person. Through the kind assistance
of Jefferson he is enabled to study law ; and his talents and
strength of character soon raise him to eminence in legal and
political life. He becomes the leader of the Democrat-Repub-
licans in his county, and finds himself the successful candidate
for a political office when he defeats a member and represent-
ative of the aristocratic party. He falls in love with a girl of
one of these families, and, against the violent opposition of
her relatives, marries her. His strength of character, his suc-
cess, his commanding position help him to maintain himself
against the persistent hostility of his wife's aristocratic friends
and their associates. Nevertheless he finds that he can never
be their equal — not in Virginia can the tobacco roller's son ever
hope to stand the acknowledged social equal of the Careys and
the Churchills. Laboring under this depressing conviction he
falls into the temptation presented by Aaron Burr's plot. He
will go out to the West where, in a new empire or kingdom,
he will find an ample field for his abilities ; and where no so-
cial distinctions, nor birth's invidious bar, shall any longer be
a hindrance to him. The plot is discovered ; he is detained by
a ruse ot one of his opponents from starting on the day he
had planned. Unexpectedly, while writhing under the upset-
ting of his plans, he meets the man who had been his wife's
destined suitor, and who had contrived to detain him. A
murder, and the career of Lewis Rand is over.

Miss Johnson, rightly enough, does not believe that the
novelist is bound to stick slavishly to history. She gives us
some picturesque scenes of public and private Virginian life;
she brings out with striking effect the strength of caste and
social prejudice, as they existed a hundred years ago in the
Old Dominion. The tragedy of Rand's life is cleverly worked
out; though he occasionally indulges in a display of senti-
mentality that scarcely fits the strong man's character and tedi-
ously delays the march of the action.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 261

It seems to us that the title of

MESSIANIC PHILOSOPHY, this work* might have been more

happily chosen ; but when that is

said, we have spoken our only adverse criticism. In all the
range of literature there is no more attractive subject to the
professional scholar, or to the amateur, than the personality,
the career, and the historical importance of Jesus Christ. And
if any man is honestly asking himself the question, which the
present author says all men are forever asking, " What am I
to believe ? " he can adopt no surer way of coming to a sat-
isfactory conclusion than by concentrating his attention upon
the Christ-question. The reply to the query "What think you
of Christ ? " is the keynote to every man's creed.

The purpose of this book is to persuade the reader, if he
needs persuasion, or to confirm his belief, if he already pos-
sesses belief, that Christ is God. The method, as indicated in
the sub -title, is not theological, and decidedly not metaphysical,
but historical and critical. The groundwork of the argument
is the testimony, not of the New Testament, but of the Church.
The appeal is primarily to history ; secondarily, of course, the
gospel data of the life and death of Christ are made use of,
but only in their capacity as human documents; and, as a fur-
ther concession to the critics, only those parts of the gospel
narrative which are of undoubted authenticity are utilized.

Such is the programme indicated by the author. He re-
mains scrupulously faithful to it. And he has produced a
volume which will command the attention and maintain the in-
terest of any sincere reader endowed with ordinary intelligence.
Unless a man have made an implicit vow within himself to es-
chew all literature of religion he can hardly fail to fall captive
to the fascinating simplicity and clearness of this exposition of
the historical argument for the Divinity of Christ. If the re-
maining volumes of the series of Expository Essays in Chris-
tian Philosophy be as well done as this, there will remain no
excuse for the Christian who is unprepared to defend his faith,
or for the non- Christian who will not consider the reasonable
grounds of Christianity.

* Messianic Philosophy. An historical and critical examination of the evidence for th*
Existence, Death, Resurrection, Ascension, and Divinity of Jesus Christ. By Gideon W. B-,
Marsh. London and Edinburgh : Sands & Co. ; St. Louis : B. Herder. In the series of
Expository Essay sin Christian Philosophy. Edited by Rev. Francis Aveling, D.D.

262 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

It is not always a pleasant, albeit

A MAIDEN UP-TO-DATE, a wholesome, thing to see ourselves
By Genevieve Irons. as others see us, and, if the Ritual-

istic party in the Anglican Church

could only see themselves as Miss Genevieve Irons sees them
in her latest venture, A Maiden Up-to-Date* it might afford
them food for profitable reflection.

Our authoress is not unknown in the literary world, her
previous ventures being Only a Doll and other stories for children,
besides Leaves from a Torn Scrap Book. In her present novel
she essays a higher flight and deals, as she says, with questions
up-to-date.

Miss Irons is a convert, the daughter of Prebendary Irons,
who for many years was rector of the Anglican church adjoin-
ing the London Oratory. She is steadily coming to the front
as a writer who wields a facile pen in behalf of the Church of
her forefathers. The plot of the story centers around a brother
and sister brought up in the atmosphere of a Catholic home,
who afterwards, through fortuitous circumstances, are obliged
to mix with Protestant friends. As might be expected, the
writer is thoroughly conversant with English society and the
pictures she draws are true to fact. We are introduced to the in-
terior of an Anglo- Catholic Ritualistic church, which looked
so much like the real thing, yet something was lacking. Out-
ward show and inward emptiness. " What are Anglo-Catholics ? "
the girl asks her brother. " People who like everything in the
Church except obedience to the Pope," he explained. Among
up-to-date questions dealt with are The New Old Catholic
Jansenist Church, Corporate Reunion, and Modernism. Of the
last our heroine says: "The Devil started it in the Garden of
Eden."

The charm of the story is the subtle human touch with which
the characters are drawn — Lord Harleydown, the head of the
Reunionist party, the French Abbe, who has a belief in the
validity of Anglican Orders, the Jesuit playing with Modern-
ism, the Westminster Abbey Dean with Broad Church proclivi-
ties, and the Correspondent who, although a Catholic, is earn-
ing a livelihood by besmirching a.nd belittling, for the benefit
of English Church papers, the spiritual mother who bore him,

* A Maiden Up-to-Date. By Genevieve Irons. St. Louis : B. Herder.

I908.J NEW BOOKS 263

suggest characters not altogether unfamiliar; indeed one might
almost go so far as to identify some of them at least with
well-known personages. If this resemblance was intended by
the author, she can scarcely avoid stricture for havirg ascribed
to Lord Harleydown a much less measure of probity and sin-
cerity than he merits.

The book will repay perusal and bear transplanting on
American soil, for hole-and-corner meetings and coquetting with
Catholic clergy to further the cause of Corporate Reunion are
not unknown even in this land.

The purpose of this handbook* is

HISTORY OF ECONOMICS, to draw the attention of the young
By Rev. J. A. Dewe. student to the play of economic

causes as they have operated in

the rise and fall of nations. It will be of service as a com-
panion to the ordinary text-books in which, especially in the
older ones, this feature is almost entirely neglected. Covering
the ancient, mediaeval, and modern world in a little over three
hundred pages, its presentation of the matter is too super-
ficial and sketchy to qualify it as an introduction to the scien-
tific study of economics. It will, however, awaken the young
student's attention to the importance of economic forces ; and
thereby help him to study his history in an intelligent way.

Some time ago the publication in a
CHRISTIAN SCIENCE. Catholic newspaper of a letter from

a representative of Christian Sci-
ence in defense of that belief led to a correspondence between
the writer and the editor, Dr. Lambert, of Ingersoll fame. The
substance of the correspondence has been edited and arranged
in book-form. f Assertion after assertion of the Christian sci-
entist is taken up, examined, and criticized, till its falseness,
emptiness, or its incompatibility with other tenets of Mrs. Ed-
dy's followers is thoroughly exposed. Many of the absurd and
grotesque contradictions of the doctrine, and the preposterous

* History of Economics ; or, Economics as a Factor in the Making of History. By the RCT.
J A. Dewe, A.M. New York : Benziger Brothers.

\ Christian Science Before the Bar of Reason. By the Rev. L. A. Lambert, LL.D. New
York : Christian Press Association.

264 NEW BOOKS [Nov.,

abuse of the Scriptures perpetrated by Mrs. Eddy in Science
and Health, are brought out in sharp relief. If logic had any
sway over the followers of this lady, Dr. Lambert's book is
sharp enough to cut off her entire party and leave her solitary
as the sparrow on the house-top; but the Christian scientist
is impervious to logic.

The task undertaken by Father Bal-
APOLOGETIC. lerini * is no easy one. It is to

compress within the limits of a

medium-sized volume the entire case for natural and supernatu-
ral religion; to establish, argumentatively, the three pillars of
theism — God, freedom, and immortality ; and to set forth air-
ply the evidences of Christianity ; besides refuting the chief
assailants of religion. Father Ballerini's plan is excellent; and
includes everything of moment. He writes, too, with his eye
fixed on contemporary infidelity ; so, wasting no time upon
ancient errors, he addresses himself to those of to-day. He
strengthens the position of truth by refusing to defend as vital
to Catholicism some obsolete theological views that are to be
found in some of his predecessors. For example, on the an-
tiquity of man he makes his own the following passage of Fa-
ther Matiussi: "Faith tells us nothing on this matter; nor can
we say that Scripture contains a true chronology of the human
race. The time that elapsed from Adam to Noe, and after-
wards from Noe to Abraham is not determined. The exact
round number of ten generations from Adam to Noe, and of
as many more from Noe to Abraham, gives reasonable suspi-
cion that there was a desire to signalize some more famous
names without descending step by step from father to son, as
certainly St. Matthew did, counting three times fourteen gene-
rations from Abraham to our Lord Jesus Christ."

In the philosophical part — the best of the volume — Father
Ballerini displays rare skill in putting an argument with
lucidity and force into the smallest possible space. And when
he makes a choice among several available arguments he usu-
ally selects the most effective.

* A Short Defense of Religion, Chiefly for Young People, Against the Unbelievers of Our
Day. By Rev. Joseph Ballerini. Translated from the Italian by Rev; William McLoughlin,
Moiuit Melleray. Dublin : Gill * Son.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 265

If "author's translation "* signifies

AN AMERICAN STUDENT origin and not merely approbation

IN FRANCE. or acceptance, we must congratu-

By Abbe Klein. Jate the abbe on the excellent

English into which he has done

La Decouverte du Vieux Monde. Our readers will perhaps recall
a notice that appeared some months ago in these columns of
that very entertaining little book, giving the experiences and
impressions of a young American college man in France,
where, under the guidance of some charming friends, he made
close acquaintance with some of the scenery and the social life
of France. The abbe is lively, witty, and observant. He has
a fund of erudite information on every historic topic that turns
up; he possesses a high talent for description. And when the
objective is exhausted, he has an inexhaustable well of emo-
tions which he places at his readers' disposal. His acquaint-
ance with American ways and manners enables him frequently
to lend an added piquancy to his descriptions of French life,
by contrasting the Old World with the New.

The Atlas Biblicus^ with twenty-two maps and accompany-
ing index, by Martino Hagen, S.J., is unquestionably a most
valuable, instructive, and useful work, and probably much the
best of the kind that has ever been published. The index is
not merely one of names and locations on the maps, but con-
tains, under almost every head, valuable information concerning
the place located. It hardly needs to be said that the mapg
are most excellently engraved and full of detail.

*A» American Student in France. By Abbe" Felix Klein. Author's Translation
Chicago: McClurg &. Co.

\Atl*s Bitlicus. Edited by Martino Hagem, S.J. Paris : P. Lethielleux.

jforeujn periodicals*

Jhe Tablet (5 Sept.): " The Eucharistic Congress" gives a
forecast of the great meeting. Never before outside
Rome has there been such a gathering and in a way, it
may be regarded as the public and official return of our

Lord to England. " Our First Legates," by Mgr.

Moyes, carries us back to the period of the Seventh
General Council and the visit to England of the two

legates. " History of the Holy Eucharist in Great

Britain," by the late Fr. Bridgett, C.SS.R., now re-edited
by Fr. Thurston, S.J., is spoken of as the literary monu-
ment of the Congress. It is a mine of curious and edi-
fying information. " The Byzantine Liturgy," by Rev.

A. Fortescue, says that something will have been gained
if only people stop calling it the Greek Mass.
(12 Sept.): "The Number of the Unemployed " was
one of the burning questions at the recent Trade Union-
ist Congress in England. It is 8.2 per cent as com-
pared with 3.7 per cent of last year. This refers only

to skilled labor. " Marriage and Population in France,"

reports that the dark cioud is pierced by a gleam of hope.
The marriage rate of last year reached a figure touched
only three times within the century. It remains to be
seen if the birth-rate will show a proportionate increase.

"The Archbishop of Canterbury on the Pan- Anglican

Congress." " The Eucharistic Congress " is dealt with

at great length and a full report given of the four
papers reads at the sectional meetings.
(19 Sept.): "Lotteries and Indecent Advertisements."
The select committee on this subject has issued its re-
port. Legislation is needed, they think, to deal with
prize competitions in newspapers and periodicals, while
the vendors of indecent literature should be summarily

punished. Under "Topics of the Day," Mr. Asquith's

action in stopping the procession of the Blessed Sacra-
ment at the eleventh hour is discussed. Apparently it
was a case of stage fright suggested by the threats of
some valiant Orangemen in the papers. The great organs

i9o8.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 267

of public opinion have heaped wonder and scorn upon
him and have done something to redeem the credit of

the nation. " The Speeches and Sermons at the Eu-

charistic Congress " are reported in full.

(26 Sept.): Reports a "Serious Strike in the Cotton

Mills of Lancashire." "The Task Before Us." As a

result of Mr. Asquith's appeal to the penal clauses of
the Emancipation Act in forbidding the procession of
the Blessed Sacrament, Catholics in England are called
upon to take the field and never rest until they have

won full liberty of public worship. " Gleanings from

Lambeth," is a series of friendly criticisms on the action,
or rather inaction, of the Anglican Bishops in meeting

assembled As a "Protest Against Mr. Asquith" the

Catholics of Newcastle have decided to vote against his
candidate. "The Pope and Missions to Non- Catho-
lics," gives the contents of a letter written by his Holi-
ness to Cardinal Gibbons, approving of the non-con-
troversial methods adopted in the holding of missions
for non- Catholics.

The Month (Sept.) : " The Jubilee of Pius X." gives an inter-
esting account of the Pope's life from early childhood.
As a priest he set himself to enkindle the religious spirit
among the people. As a bishop he was able to carry
this aim to a higher stage of development. As Pope
his work, during the five years he has been on the throne,
bears witness to this same endeavor. " To restore all
things in Christ " is the phrase he put forth, in his first
Encyclical, as the motto of his pontificate. In "So-
cial work in Catholic Schools," the need is pointed out
of teaching boys what may be called social consciousness ;

or, in other words, the duties they owe to society.

"The Detection of Archibald Bower, ex- Jesuit and His-
torian," by J. H. Pollen, recalls the career of one who
for many years, trading upon Protestant prejudice, posed

as a martyr, only to be at length exposed « Fr. Thurs-

ton's " Mass of St. Gregory " is an explanation of Du-
rer's well-known wood engraving.

The Crucible (Sept.): "The Personal Note in Music," deals
with the methods employed in teaching music in schools.
Art for art's sake spells illusion. Art partakes of the

POREIGN PERIODICALS [Nov.,

essence of life; and in music, which has its roots deep
down in emotion, the personal note must be allowed ade-
quate expression in both teacher and pupil "The Wo-
man Question/' by Dom Lambert Nolle, O.S.B., is a
resume of Father Rosler's book. What is the funda-
mental position of woman in relation to man ? The ques-
tion is answered by an appeal to Nature, History, and
Revelation. " The Need of the Modern Catholic Woman,"
admits a " Woman Problem." Can Catholic women ig-
nore this question ? In response the Catholic Women's
League came into existence, having as its object the
progress of the individual woman, the sex, and the State.
Stanch Catholicity as opposed to Secularism is its domi-
nant note. " An International Congress on Home Edu-
cation," gives the programme of the forthcoming Con-
gress to be held in Brussels and points out the part
which Catholic women can and ought to take in it.
The Expository Times (Sept.) : Opens with a review by the ed-
itor of Dr. Wallace's article in 1 'he Contemporary on "The

Present Position of Darwinism." Another review by

the same pen is that of Dr. Schichter's " Studies in Ju-
daism," in which he discusses the charge that Judaism
has never produced a saint. Is it true ? Dr. Schichter

denies it. That faith and science need not be kept in

distinct non-communicating chambers of the mind is the
gist of Dr. Hanzinger's pamphlet "The New Apologet-
ic." Other articles are : " Man's Spiritual Develop-
ment as Depicted in Christ's Parables," by R. M. Lithow.

The "Advent of the Father," by Wm. Curtis.

(Oct.): "Note? on Recent Exposition" includes the in-
teresting question as to the date of the Exodus. A so-
lution offered is that it took place when Ramses XII.
was reigning, about 1125 B. C., some^three hundred years
later than is generally supposed. "TheKeswick Con-
vention " and its teaching is discussed by the editor.
An anonymous correspondent charges it with making too
much of the emotions ; as a result, hysterical symptoms
are produced and insanity is not an infrequent occur-
rence. "The Jesus- Paul Controversy" is an exami-
nation of Wrede's work on this question. The author
claims that there are real and important differences be-

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 269

tween the teaching of Jesus and that of His Apostle.

Of the historical Christ St. Paul knows nothing. A

very favorable review is given of " The Epistle of Jude,"
by Von. F. Maier. The conclusion arrived at is that
from internal and external evidence the Epistle is gen-
uine. Other books reviewed are Deissmann's Light

from the East and Dr. Alois Musil's archaeological and
ethnological discoveries in Moab.

The International (Sept.): "The Future of Marriage" is the
subject of the opening article by the editor. In Teutonic
and Anglo-Saxon countries monogamy is being under-
mined by the enlarged possibilities of divorce, especially

in the United States. In " The Problem of Divorce

in France " the writer says that in France adultery takes
the place of divorce, and is tolerated indulgently. In
this instance the Church acts as advocatus diaboli. Mar-
riage, he says, should be terminable at the will of the
parties, and the details left to the jurisdiction of the

Courts. " The Macedonian Question," ever a troublous

one, has assumed a new aspect in the light of the recent
revolution. Among the contemplated reforms is the in-
stitution of a parliament. The ultimate success of the
constitution is still doubtful, but the decision of the
Great Powers is to give the young Turkey party a free
hand.

The International Journal of Ethics (Oct.) : " The Morals of An
Immoralist," by Alfred W. Benn, is an attempt to show
that Friedrich Nietzsche, though habitually posing as an
immoralist, was in reality Germany's truly ethical genius,
and that when he speaks of " moralin " as a deadly
poison, it is only his paradoxical way of expressing him-
self. The article is to be continued. "Savonarola"

is one of a series of lectures delivered by the late Tho-
mas Davidson. It begins by giving a picture of the
mental and moral condition of the people among whom
the friar was called to labor. His day witnessed a new
movement toward personal liberty, and Savonarola, the
lecturer says, tried to bring this about under the guid-
ance of the Church, hence his failure. There is no

great word of which the content has altered more than
the word "justice"; so says Miss Stawell in "The

270 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Nov.,

Modern Conception of Justice." As a result two new
ideas have emerged; the first, that suffering by the in-
nocent is not "unjust," when it is necessary; and the
second, that the reward the good man works for is the

justification of the many. Other articles are "The

Dramatic Elements of Experience," by Professor Baillie.
" Ethics and Law," by Charles D. Super.

The Irish Ecclesiastical Review (Sept.) : R. Fullerton's article
on " The Origin of Morality " goes to prove that, apart
from revealed religion, we have no right to predicate mo-
rality for man. "' Appearance ' and 'Reality/" part

II., by P. Coffey, examines the sources of the Agnos-
ticism and Phenomenism of the Modernists, and answers
the question, Can the human mind know with certitude
the nature of a Material Universe distinct from itself?

" The Tabernacle in the Middle Ages." The idea

connected with reservation in the Middle Ages was that
of viaticum not of worship ; so we find the place of
reservation always separate from the altar, sometimes
in the form of the Ambry, or again suspended over
the altar in a hanging pyx. As the practice of frequent
communions began to increase the custom was intro-
duced of providing a receptacle for the reserved Sacra-
ment on the altar itself.

Le Correspondant (10 Sept.): Religious Affairs and the Civil
Constitution of the Clergy passed by the French As-
sembly on July 12, 1790, are treated in the article "Pius

VI." "In the Crimea," apropos of the fifty- third an-

niversary of the capture of Sebastopol, Prince Bariat-
insky, an eye-witness, gives a vivid account of that

memorable struggle. "The Insufficiency of Positivist

Morals" is discussed by Clodius Piat. He regrets that,
after the moral conditions have been studied for so many
years, the world is no more enlightened than it is.

" The Masters of Oceanica," which treats of the

struggle of the Japanese for the mastery oi the East, is
concluded in this number.

(25 Sept.): "The Eucharistic Congress" is treated from
three points of view. The work accomplished; Its value
as a Catholic manifestation ; and The opinion it created.
"The General Confederation of Labor," which the

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 271

writer, H. de Laregle, claims is hostile to the social
order, has as its object the uniting of the various social-
istic bodies. The C. G. T. is not organized like the
English labor unions on economic grounds. It is a rev-
olutionary organization. "Austro- Hungary and Rus-
sia and the Eastern Question/' pictures the present con-
dition of affairs brought about by the coming into power

of the new Liberal party in Turkey. "The Pure Food

Congress," which met last September in Geneva, is but
the first of several such conferences, having as their
object the protection of the public against fraud and

adulteration in articles on sale for food or drink.

" The Sale of the Church's Property in the Revolutionary
Period,'1 is shown to have been in the long run dis-
astrous to the State.

Etudes (5 Sept.): "The Teaching of Scholastic Metaphysics,"

by Paul Geny. Eugene Portalie, "The Herzog-Dupin

Question and the Criticism of M. Turmel," in the His-
tory of the Papacy considers five absolutely anti-Catholic
conclusions arrived at by M. Turmel upon the papacy to
the end of the fourth century. The author next takes up
"Special Studies of Many Dogmas." The Trinity and

Original Sin are treated. "The Sanctity of Joan of

Arc and Her Place in History," by Chanoine Dunand.
The article is comprised chiefly of extracts from writers
of the sixteenth century down to our own day. The
object of the article is to mark with precision the place
which the sanctity of La Pucelle occupies in history."
(20 Sept.): "The Pan- Anglican Congress and the Lam-
beth Conference," by J. de la Serviere. The author,
after a short introduction on the opening of the Con-
gress, considers the work done in the various sections.
He then enters into a lengthy discussion of each of these
questions in detail. The conclusions to be gathered from
the work of the Congress are to form a separate article.

" The Herzog-Dupin Question and the Criticism of

M. Turmel," by Eugene Portalie. The matter under
discussion is the future life and the eternity of hell.

Revue du Monde Catholique (i Sept.): In the second of a series
on the "Secret of the Woman Question," Theodore Joran
treats the subject from a social and economic standpoint.

272 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Nov.,

The writer's conclusion is that feminisme is anti-social

and retrogressive. In " Science or Romance," J.

D'Orlye criticizes the opinion recently advanced by Mr.
Clodd and Grant Allan that it is impossible for the
human mind to rise to the invisible, or that man can
attain to no truth other than that of the material order.

Dom Rabory contributes another article on " Princess

Louise of Conde." The life and deeds of "Bishop

Freppel of Angers*' are given an extended notice.

"In the Eucharistic Fast" Ch. Bujon urges the miti-
gation of the discipline of the fast before Mass and
Communion.

(15 Sept.): Under the caption "Towards the Abyss," M.
Arthur Savaete criticizes the recent celebrations at Que-
bec. He maintains that there are evidences of European
Liberalism in the ranks of French Canadian politicians.
The " Secret of the Woman Question " is con-
tinued. In " Science or Romance " we are shown how

futile are the efforts of those materialists who strive to

replace religion by science. In " Modernism and the

Church " Ch. Beaurredon outlines the position of Mod-
ernists towards the Gospel of St. John and the Church.
"The French Apologists in the Nineteenth Cen-
tury." One of the noblest of them was Fr. de Ravig-
nan, whose life and labors are published in this number.
Revue Pratique d ' Apologetique (i Sept.): In "The Herzog-
Dupin Question " A. Baudrillart comments briefly on the
publication in one volume by M. 1'Abbe Saltet, of the
controversy concerning the authorship of two Modernis-
tic works published over the psuedonyms Herzog and

Dupin. In "Science and Religion After a Recent

Book " J. Legendre writes of a recent work by M. Bou-
troux entitled A New Recoil in Independent Criticism.

P. Cruveilhier, on the question of " Monotheism in

Israel," reviews the theory of Baintsch, a professor in
Jena, on the evolution of Monotheism among the Israel-
ites. A. Durand continues his review of M. Loisy's

" Synoptic Gospels."

(15 Sept.): The first twenty. five pages contain the con-
clusion of T. de Grandmaison's articles on "The Devel-
opment of Christian Dogma." Under the general head-

I908.J FOREIGN PERIODICALS 273

ing of "The Prophetic Argument/' J. Touzard discusses
the " Messianic Preparation," especially in the light of

present-day apologetics. Under "Information" are

found, apropos of a conference by M. Thureau-Dangin, a
few words on the providential design in the fact that
Pusey and Keble should be left to die outside the unity

of the Church. "The Philosophic Chronicle" contains

a review of a work by C. Sentroul on The Object of Meta-
physics According to Kant and According to Aristotle ; of
one by Emile Boutroux entitled Science and Religion in
Contemporaneous Philosophy ; and of one by Harold Hoff-
ding on the Philosophy of Religion.

Annales De Philosophic Chretienne (Sept.): "The Physical Theory
from Plato to Galileo," by P. Duhem, brings this con-
tinued article to a close. " Religious Experience and

Contemporary Protestantism," a continued article by D.
Sabatier. Modern Protestantism distinguishes between
faith and creed; the first is an act of the heart and
will, the second an act of the intellect. That which
saves the soul is faith not dogma. Instead of saying
that dogma makes the Christian, rather should we say
that each Christian makes his own dogma, and that in-
terior experience is the source and essence of religion.

Apropos of a recent book, M. Duchemin writes on

"The Religious Problem in Literature." The book in
question is Books and Questions of To-Day, by M. Giraud,
who maintains that although the principal writers of to-
day are not interested in religious questions, still the
religious problem, properly presented, is the most im-
portant that can appeal to the human conscience.

Stimmen aus Maria Laach (14 Sept.): J. Bessmer, S.J., writes
on " The Morbid Impediments to Freedom of Will," and
explains of what assistance modern psychopathology may
be to moral theology. He proves that the moralists'
division of impediments to the freedom of will into four

classes is in perfect harmony with modern science.

H. A. Krose, S.J., discusses the "Project of Garden

Cities," as exhibited by Ebenezer Howard. M. Mesch-

ler, S.J., "Asceticism of St. Ignatius." H. Pesch,

S.J., criticizes Malthus' doctrine on the "Principle of
Population." He shows his fears as to the over- increase
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 18

274 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Nov.,

of population to be without foundation. V. Cathrein

S.J., in an article on " Punishment of Animals," refutes
Ed. Westermark who, in a recent publication, main-
tained that primitive man esteemed animals as his equals,
charged with the same moral responsibility. Wester-
mark's reasoning is shown to be contrary to common
sense.

La Democratic Chretienne (Sept.) : " Montalembert and the So-
cial Question," discusses Montalembert's attitude towards
the relation of economic liberalism to liberty. If he
decried existing conditions in his day it was not because
of any anti-social motive, but for the purpose of apply-
ing a remedy. A controversy carried on by two So-
cialist deputies, as to what extent Socialists should par-
ticipate in elections, is reprinted from the Reveil du

Nord. " The Resolutions Passed by the Tertiaries of

St. Francis," at their recent convention, are given in
full.

La Civilta Cattolica (5 Sept.): Contains "The Encyclical of
Pius X." addressed to the entire Catholic Clergy. In
it he extols both the " passive " and the " active " vir-
tues, and warns the clergy, while working for others,

not to neglect the virtues which perfect the man.

" The National Character and the Catechism." The war
to-day is against the Catechism as being destructive
of the national character in Italy. It is an old accu-
sation revived by the adversaries of Catholicism, that
the action of the Church has always been contrary to
the spirit, the character, and the principles of the nation,
seeking, by its very nature, to suppress all that is indi-
vidual. Machiavelli attributes their spirit of depression
to the want of patriotism in the ancient Italians, and
also to their political divisions, fomented by the Church
to impede the national unity. Prof. Harnack says Cathol-
icism is the continuation of the Ancient Roman Empire

and the Pope the successor of Caesar. "The Human

Element" in Sacred Eloquence. A description of the
splendid and well marked difference in pulpit oratory
when art and zeal are properly united, and artificial ora-
tory, which charms only the ears and stirs the imagin-
ation, but leaves the heart cold and the will uneffected.

FOREIGN PERIODICALS 275

"The Russian Church," a story of that church and

various manifestations of its life in the brief period of

reform during the two years 1905 and 1906, after which

it seemed to return to the ancient political and religious

servility.

(19 Sept.): "The First Centenary of Bettinelli"— an

Italian author, a description of his life, his works, and

their influence. Born at Mantua, July 18, 1718, died

Sept. 13, 1808. " Modernism, Critical and Historical,"

is continued at length in this number. " Vanven-

argues and the Social Question/' is a continuation on
the study of the moral problem. " Preaching Chris-
tianity in China," is concluded in this issue. "The

Enchiridion." There is a new edition just out which
makes the tenth of this most celebrated work.

Revista Internazionale (August): "Political Interests of Italy
in the Transportation of Emigrants," by R. Pesciolini.
Three interests enter into consideration: those which
concern the emigrants, the State, and the mercantile

marine. In the first installment of the article, " Slavery

in the Modern Age," F. Ermini takes as his theme
the enslavement of the Indians of America and of the
Negroes of Africa. He lays particuiar stress upon the
cruelty of Christian peoples in their dealings with the
natives of America and Africa.— — Other articles: "The

Example of Our Ancestors," by M. Libelli. "The

'Social Week* of Marseilles," by V. Bianchi- Cagliesi.

Razon y Fe (Sept.) : L. Murillo writes about the Genesis nar-
rative of the Creation. He asserts that Moses did not
share the common opinion of his day, which looked on
the firmament as a solid structure separating the waters
on earth from vast bodies of water above the earth.
According to our author, Moses meant the atmosphere
when he wrote of the firmament, and the moisture in
the rainclouds when he wrote of the waters above the

earth. E. Ugarte de Ercilla writes again about

Modernistic Philosophy, criticizing its psychological tenets
as the offspring of Kantian and Spencerian philosophy.
Its psychology is, in his judgment, the heart of Modern-
ism. E. Portillo continues his study of the eighteenth

century difficulties between the Church and Spain.

276 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Nov.,

Joaquin M. de Barnola gives a sketch of the commission
recently established in Spain for the study of animal

life in the ocean. Saj. pays an excellent tribute to

the personal character of the artist Monasterio.
Espana y America (i Sept.): Anacleto Orejon discusses Father
Prat's " implicit quotation " theory, and explains certain
apparent contradictions in Scripture in such wise as to
withdraw their support from that theory. When Gene-
sis, vii. 10, says that the deluge began seven days after
Noah and his family entered into the Ark, and verse
13 says that the deluge began on that very day, one is
confronted with a difficulty ; but it vanishes when one
stops to realize that it must have taken seven days to
get all the animals into the Ark. The different state-
ments as to the duration of the flood (Genesis vii., 4,
12, 17, and 24; viii. 3) are not really contradictory, for
the sacred text does not say that the flood abated after
forty days. By holding that the rain fell continuously
for forty days, and that it was 150 days before the
waters began to subside, we reconcile both texts in a

most reasonable fashion. " The Esthetic Ideas of St.

Augustine" are discussed by Father Negrete. "The

Art of Romero de Torres," by Fray Meliton. Arti-
cles on " Godoy and his Age," and on " The Needs of
the Spanish Stage," are continued from previous num-
bers.

(15 Sept.): "The Actual State of International Law,"
by Father Jose Maria Alvarez. This discourse was de-
livered at the opening of the academic year of 1908 in

the University of Cuzco. Father Hospital writes about

Augustinian missions in the Far East. Felipe Robles

and Father A. Blanco respectively continue their arti-
cles on " The Philosophy of the Verb," and " The Early
Systems of Weights and Measures."

Current Events.

It will be remembered that some
France. time ago a law was passed by the

French Assembly to secure a day

of rest for the workingman, who had been deprived of it for
so long a time by the effects of the Revolution. The enforce-
ment of the law has encountered a good deal of opposition,
but little by little its observance has been secured. The va-
rious interests of the different trades had to be consulted ; but
the result has been so satisfactory that the Paris Sunday, so
far as life and movement in the streets is concerned, is now
almost as dull as the London Sunday. Tourists, it is said, do
not like it, but those who formerly had to work all the week
appreciate the change, as they experience its beneficial effects.
The government has once more formulated its policy with
reference to the labor questions, which have been causing so
much trouble. The General Confederation of Labor has been
the chief source of trouble advocating, as it has done repeat-
edly, the use of violence for securing what it deems the rights
of the workingmen. Frightened by the proceedings of the con-
federation, pressure has been put upon the government to sup-
press this noxious body altogether, to take away the right to
form unions at all, and to make strikes unlawful. Between
these two courses the government has taken the middle way.
They will enforce the law against all who have recourse to vio-
lence; and, on the other hand, they will leave intact the right
of combination and the right to strike, the only weapon of the
working classes. The advocates of violent methods form, it is
said, a very small minority of the people, the mass of whom
are patient, yet still working quietly for the amelioration of
their position.

The officer who, it may be remembered, shot Major Drey-
fus on the occasion of the transfer of the ashes of Zola to the
Pantheon, has been brought to trial and, strange to say, ac-
quitted. He pleaded that the act was purely symbolical of his
love of the army and of his dislike of its being obliged to take
part in the ceremony. " It was for the moral salvation of
France, it was for her honor that I acted," he declared before
the Court. The jury, by acquitting him, seems to have en-

278 CURRENT EVENTS [Nov.,

dorsed this strange method of working for the moral salvation
of the country. The loud cheers with which the acquittal was
received may or may not indicate the judgment of the people
in general.

It is now asserted that when King
Germany. Edward VII. met the German Em-

peror at Cronberg, in August last,

definite proposals for the limitation of armaments by interna-
tional agreement were made by the King ; and that the Em-
peror replied that, so far as Germany was concerned, no such
proposal could be accepted. " Peace — but no limitation of arm-
aments " — was the declaration made by the Emperor subse-
quently at Strassburg. This decisive utterance has cleared the
air; for, if Germany will not consent, it would be foolish even
to propose a limitation to any other Power.

That source of unrest for the whole of Europe, the Pan-
German League, has been holding its annual Congress. With
the exception of the Polish Expropriation Law, and the Law
which makes it obligatory to use the German language at all
public meetings, the President of the Congress found little to
commend in the action of the government. In particular its
foreign policy was condemned as unworthy of a nation which
numbered sixty- three millions, its diplomats were incapable and
ought to be superseded. Of this inefficiency Morocco was a
striking example. Great Britain, France, and Russia were called
Germany's enemies and neighbors. While the German people,
he declared, did not desire it, in a good cause a war would be
welcomed by them as a valuable antidote to the enervating
materialism of a long period of peace. Such a good cause
would be the attempts which it is said are being made to put
Germany in the background.

The Social Democrats have also been holding their annual
Congress. It does not speak well for a quiet life under a So-
cialist regime, should one ever come, that even at present, when
still in face of the enemy, the Socialists cannot maintain peace
among themselves. Their meetings are largely devoted to the
attempt to settle internal squabbles. The recent Congress gave
most of its time to the condemnation of the Socialist members
of the Bavarian and Baden Diets who had taken part in divi-
sions on the year's Estimates. The traditional attitude has

i9o8.] CURRENT EVENTS 279

been one of abstention — of not touching the unclean thing —
and many of the Socialists are as ardent defenders of tradi-
tional methods and of the maintenance of discipline as it is
possible to desire. The innovators were accordingly condemned.
The Congress, sad to say, wound up in the wildest uproar,
amidst shouts of "sneak," "spy," "tale-bearer/1 "blackguard."
Are these the prophets of the coming era ?

The German Navy League also has its own troubles. A
conflict has arisen between the extreme supporters of the for-
mer President, General Keim, and the leaders of the Bavarian
section. This has not prevented, however, a united demand
for a still further extension of the Navy and a consequent in-
crease of expense. An agitation is to be undertaken for the
building of another battleship as well as of six new cruisers of
the most modern type.

But where is the money to come from ? This is, perhaps,
the question that causes the greatest anxiety to the powers
that be in Germany. They recognize that no less than 125,-
000,000 of additional annual income must be provided. This
is the question which will occupy the attention of the approach-
ing meeting of the Reichstag. Various foreshadowings of the
government proposals have seen the light; but until they are
laid before the Parliament they are more or less conjectural.

It would seem that Alsace — at all events large numbers of
Alsatians — have definitely accepted its incorporation into the
German Empire. The Emperor has recently paid a visit to
the Reichsland, and so great was the enthusiasm displayed
by the population that it was like a triumphal progress. In
every town and hamlet the bells rang peals, decorations were
put up, and immense offerings of flowers and of the products of
the country were made to him.

One of the smaller countries of
Denmark. Europe, and one generally con-

sidered to be in a remarkable de-
gree the abiding place of honest, frugal, and industrious people,
has been brought prominently into public notice by misdoings
which were thought to be characteristic of larger countries,
that need not be mentioned. A person who, until last Jan-
uary, held the position of Minister of Justice in the Danish
Cabinet, has been arrested for forgery and the sum involved

28o CURRENT EVENTS [Nov.,

runs into the millions. The victims of this highly- placed
scoundrel are found chiefly among the peasants.

The Parliament of Portugal has
Portugal. been holding prolonged sessions,

but the debates have, as a rule,

been about sordid questions which have but little interest to the
world at large. There seems little reason to doubt that the
unpopularity of the late King was largely due to his desire
to increase his wealth. The present King, profiting by exper-
ience, is acting in a spirit of generosity towards the nation.
He has transferred to the State, for national purposes, the Royal
residences of Belem, Caxias, and Queluz, and has acquiesced
in the limitation of his civil list to a thousand dollars a day.

The prospect for a settlement of
Morocco. the Moroccan question is fairly

bright. If Germany ever intended

seriously to raise the question again, she has thought better
of it. The return of her Consul to Fez was declared to spring
from no desire to separate herself from the rest of the Powers,
and the somewhat hasty announcement of her wish that Mulai
Hafid should be promptly recognized did not indicate any in-
tention of superseding France and Spain as the representa-
tives of Europe under the Algeciras Act. The two last-named
Powers accordingly have been left to take the necessary steps.
They have sent a circular letter laying down the conditions
upon which the new Sultan will be recognized. The most
important of these conditions is that he shall accept all the
obligations which his deposed brother, Abdul Aziz, had ac-
knowledged under the Act which now not only regulates the
relations of Morocco with the rest of the world, but which
also forms the guarantee for the integrity of his Empire. This
Mulai Hafid did before any demands were sent to him. To
one of the proposed conditions, however, he may not be will-
ing so easily to give his consent. His success in his conflict
with his brother was, in a large measure, due to the fact that he
was able to make the Moors believe that Abdul Aziz had given
up the country to the enemies of their religion, and was,
therefore, a betrayer of their most sacred interests. It was
this, more than anything else, that led them to flock to his

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 281

standard. One of the conditions laid down by France and
Spain is that he should formally and officially disavow this
Holy War to which he owes his success. That Germany, in
the consent which she has given to the proposals of the two
Powers, should suggest a modification of this demand, and thus
make it easier for Mulai Hafid to accept the conditions, does
not indicate any hypercritical spirit on her part. France and
Spain demand the payment of the expenses which they have
incurred; to this also Germany consents. Abdul Aziz seems
to have recognized the fact that he is hopelessly beaten, and
to be willing to retire into private life. He, perhaps, deserves
a better fate, for he was one of the very few rulers who was
more anxious to effect reforms for the benefit of his people,
than were the people to receive the benefit of the reforms.
He had not, however, energy sufficient to resist the all-powerful
corruption which formed an effectual bar to all his efforts.

The loyalty of France to the engagements she has entered
into, not to seek her own ends in Morocco and to retire as
soon as order has been restored and the police force organ-
ized, has been manifested by the fact that the evacuation of
Casablanca has already begun, and unless some untoward event
happens will soon be completely accomplished. All Europe, in-
cluding even Germany, appears now to recognize the good
faith of the government. Unfortunately the prospect of a
settlement may be blighted by " incidents " such as the one
which recently took place at Casablanca; but where good will
exists, a way will be found.

The important events which have
The Near East. more recently taken place in the

Turkish Empire should not put

out of remembrance an event of a less sensational character
which took place before. The opening of the Hedjaz railway
has brought one of the holy cities of Islam into short com-
munication of Damascus, and when the gap has been filled be-
tween the latter city and the railway which now extends
through the greater part of Asia Minor, railway communication
will be open with Constantinople, and consequently with the
rest of Europe. Hitherto the city of Medina, the present ter-
minus of the railway, has been almost as secluded from the
Christian world as Lhassa itself. Its minarets have, so far as

282 CURRENT EVENTS [Nov.,

is known, been seen in modern times by only one avowed
Christian not in Moslem service. In fact, in the making of
the new railway, while the larger part of the line was under
the supervision of a German, the part in the immediate neigh-
borhood of Medina was made by Turks exclusively. What
will happen after this railway is opened and under the new
regime no one can tell.

The circumstances under which the railway was made are
scarcely less remarkable than the fact of its having been made.
Its course lies for hundreds of miles through a desert. The
funds were raised not with a view to gain, but by the sub-
scriptions of devout Moslems, its initiator being the Sultam
himself, who made the appeal for funds as for a holy and
sacred object. The circumstances attending the celebration of
its completion were perhaps the strangest of all, at least to the
Sultan. Every station along the line was decorated with ban-
ners bearing the device strange to Turkey : " Liberty, Equality,
Fraternity," as a sign of rejoicing for the advent of constitu-
tional goverment. One of the speakers at the opening ceremony
declared that it was the Prophet himself who had not suffered the
railway to reach the Holy City before the Khalif had granted a
Constitution to his people. The inauguration took place on
the ist of September, and a long telegram describing it ap-
peared in the London Times on the 3d. This telegram was
the first ever sent from the burial place of Mahomet to a jour-
nal published in a Christian land, and most probably the first
ever sent to any newspaper.

The future will reveal the effects of the railway. Soldiers
assert that it will increase the power of the Sultan, enabling
him to bring easily to the front the Arabs who dwell in the
peninsula, A more pleasing prospect was presented by one
of the speakers at the opening ceremony. He declared that
the line would transform the ruined towns into rich oases,
civilize the wild nomads, and enrich the fatherland with new set-
tlements.

Unless the indefensible conduct of Austria and Bulgaria
drives Turkey back under despotic rule — an event which at
first seemed all too probable — the elections will be taking place
for the new Parliament during the present month. These elec-
tions will be controlled by the same Committee of Union and
Progress to which the restoration of the Constitution is due,

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 283

and which numbers no fewer than 80,000 of the best educated
of the Empire. The proceedings of this Committee have been
characterized by so great a degree of wisdom and moderation
as to astonish the whole world, especially in view of the pro-
vocation with which it has met. In only one respect did it
pass due bounds. One of the many curses of Turkey under
the absolutist regime was the almost innumerable host of officials
who lived upon the people. Vast numbers of these were dis-
missed in the first days of the revolution ; so many indeed, that
they were becoming a rallying point for the disaffected. The
Committee, however, wisely staid its hand in due time, and
has left the Executive to manage things in its own way. One
of the most remarkable things about the change of regime in
Turkey has been the fact that, with a single exception, only one
of the many malefactors has lost his life, although a number of
them are awaiting trial and due punishment, it is to be hoped,
for their misdeeds. The Sultan himself has voluntarily dis-
gorged a large amount of his ill-gotten gains.

The declaration by Bulgaria of her independence and the
annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina by Austria have, of
course, surpassed in interest and importance every other recent
event. How long behind the scenes these transactions have
been in preparation we do not yet know; but it may be well
to give a resume of the facts that are known. Upon the grant-
ing of the Constitution Turks and Bulgarians fraternized as cor-
dially as did the other races. A series of visits, in fact, took
place of Bulgarians to Constantinople and of Turks to Bul-
garia. The first step in the wrong direction was taken by
Turkey. To a dinner given by the Foreign Minister to the
representatives of the Powers the Agent of Bulgaria was not
invited. This was contrary to the custom which had existed
hitherto, and was said to be intended as a clear indication that
Bulgaria was to be treated, as in fact she was, as a vassal state.

Bulgaria keenly resented this treatment, and when the strike
broke out upon the Oriental Railway, a part of which passes
through Eastern Rumelia on its way from Vienna to Constan-
tinople, that part was seized by Bulgaria to be worked by the
railway staff of the army ; and when the strike came to an
end, she persistently refused to restore the railway to the Com-
pany. This was nothing less than robbery on a large scale,
for the railway's rights in Bulgaria were legally secured ; and

284 CURRENT EVENTS [Nov.,

as its owners were largely German, and its managers largely
Austrian, it brought from their governments public remon-
strances. With reference to Austria, at all events, it may be
doubted in the light of subsequent events whether these re-
monstrances were sincere. Betore Prince Ferdinand declared
himself Tsar of the Bulgarians he had been received at Buda-
pest with regal honors by the Emperor Francis Joseph, and it
can readily be believed that, as is now said, a secret treaty
had been concluded between the Prince and the Emperor. A
few days afterwards Bulgaria's independence was declared, and
almost simultaneously Bosnia and Herzegovina were annexed.

Both of these transactions are flagrant breaches, not merely
of the somewhat vague provisions which are called international
law, but of the express stipulations of the Berlin Treaty, which
forms the basis of any rights that Austria or Bulgaria can
claim to possess. Of late sympathy and respect have been
accorded to the Emperor- King on the occasion of his Diamond
Jubilee. It is almost a pity that he has lived to see this
event, for he has brought a stain upon his old age which only
revives the memory ot many like stains upon the house of
Habsburg. The worst of it is that of late these attempts at
unjust aggrandizement have been failures, so much so that
Austrian shortsightedness has become proverbial. The present
annexation does but add to the number of the Serbs which
are already comprised in the Empire, and has driven to ex-
asperation the neighboring kingdom of Servia.

But what seems to us the worst feature of all is the time
which has been chosen. The grant of a Constitution to Turkey
was just giving good ground for hope that the millions of the
human race who had so long been groaning under a heartless
despotism were to receive some relief from their long-endured
misery. The action of Austria and of Bulgaria was the best
means that could possibly have been taken to overturn the
new regime and to restore the old. Fortunately the good
sense of the Young Turks restrained them from declaring war,
and the support which has been given to them by France and
Great Britain render such a declaration improbable. The con-
ference of the Great Powers, which it is expected will take
place, will tax all the statesmanship existent at the present
day to find a definite and peaceful settlement of the many ques-
tions which have been raised.

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 285

The advent of freedom seems long
Russia. deferred. Notwithstanding all the

assurances which have been given

by M. Stolypin, repression is still the normal practice. Thou-
sands of girl students have been summarily excluded from the
Universities, and all the professors who belonged to the Con-
stitutional Democratic Party have been dismissed. The news-
papers which presumed to criticize these gentle methods have
been fined. A severe outbreak of cholera has revealed the
criminal inefficiency of the constituted authorities.

The annexation of the Congo has

Belgium. become an accomplished fact by

the vote of the Senate on the 9th

of September. All difficulties, however, are not yet surmounted.
Other Powers, particularly Great Britain, claim the right to
recognize the transfer of the Free State, and as a condition of
recognition to pass judgment upon the adequacy of the safe-
guards provided for the well-being of the natives. The Congo
State, it is argued, was the artificial creation of the Acts of
Berlin and Brussels; the stipulations of these Acts have been
systematically violated under King Leopold's personal rule.
Belgium must {give security that such violations will not take
place in the future. There are Belgians who demur to this;
who maintain that all that Belgium will have to do will be to
announce the fact that the Congo State has ceased to exist as
an independent political community, and has become a Belgian
colony. The government itself has so far not given more tha»
general assurances, and whether a conflict will arise when more
definite conditions are demanded, remains to be seen.

- THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION

ABBOT GASQUET took tor his subject at a recent lecture in Rome:
"The Literary Life of Blessed Thomas More." As a master of
English his works are properly regarded as models of the language. Many
of the colloquialisms in daily use— not to care a fig, not worth a button— are
traced to his writings. To Utopia, the most popular of his works, a special
interest is attached, in view of modern theories concerning the rights of
property. The late William Morris, the well-known Socialist, art writer,
and poet, thought he saw in Utopia a defence of some principles approved
by modern writers.

Regarding the attitude of the Church towards intellectual progi ess at
the time of the so-called Reformation, Abbot Gasquet said that a great deal
of misconception had arisen even among educated people. It is charged
that the Church was opposed to the new learning. Certainly it was ; but
what was meant by the new learning? Any real acquaintance with the
literature of the sixteenth century is sufficient to place beyond all manner of
doubt that the meaning given to the term in the days of More was alto-
gether different from that which it has to-day. It meant at that time the
new doctrines of Luther, which were then being introduced into England.
It had absolutely nothing to do with anything else.

To say that the Church was opposed to the new learning, is simply an-
other way of saying that the Church was opposed to Lutheranism. Blessed
Thomas More himself lost his fortune and his life in opposing it, and no
Englishman of his day could compare with him for intellectual gifts. His
friend Erasmus, \ihom many regard as one of the pioneers of the Reforma-
tion, was equally against it. Blessed Thomas More tells us how he exam-
ined the writings of Erasmus, and failed to find anything which would indi-
cate that he was on the side of the Reformers. To say, therefore, that the
Church was opposed to intellectual progress, because it was in opposition to
the new learning, is to display an ignorance of the terminology of the time.
» » »

The following statement appeared in the final number of the New York
Review :

With this issue, which concludes Vol. III., the New York Review ceases
publication.

At its inception three years ago its editors promised to present the best
work of Catholic scholars at home and abroad on theological and other
problems of the present day. It is the keeping of that promise, not the
breaking of it, that is the cause of the suspension of the Review. For the
number of Catholics interested in questions which are deemed of importance
by the thinkers of the present generation — and which will be of vital conse-
quence to all classes in the next — has been found to be so small that it does
not justify the continuance of this publication. It would be possible, per-
haps, to treat the same topics in a more popular style, but the editors are
strongly ot opinion that new and difficult problems should be discussed in a
way that will attract the attention of only trained and scholarly minds. Or
the scope of the Review might be changed, but this would bring it into need-
less competition with other Catholic periodicals which are doing excellent work
in their chosen departments.

[Nov., 1908.] THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION 287

A newspaper report which has obtained wide circulation renders it neces-
sary in justice to our ecclesiastical superiors and to ourselves, to make a fur-
ther statement. Neither the New York Review, nor any issue of it, nor any
article published in it has ever been made the object of official condemnation
or censure by any authority, local or general, in the Catholic Church. It is
now suspending publication not by command of authority, but by the deci-
•ion of its editors, and for the reasons set down.

It only remains to return sincere thanks to the subscribers who have
given their loyal support to the enterprise ; and especially to the contributors,
who have given of their best so generously, with little or no recompense,
save the consciousness of doing their duty in the cause of religion and learn-
ing.

* * •

James Bryce, the British ambassador, delivered the principal address at
tfce recent convocation of the University of Chicago.

The ambassador opened his address by commenting upon the fact that
production and transportation all over the world, had been transformed by
science, and pointed out that the effect of science had also been strongly
felt in education.

Sixty years ago science was not given a prominent part in the curricu-
lum of schools and universities, and now it was trying to relegate the study
of language and literature to a secondary place. In some parts of the world,
indeed, it was becoming necessary to insist upon the importance of the
kuman, as opposed to the natural or scientific subjects. He then developed
his thought as follows :

I ask you to join with me in considering the value and helpfulness to the
individual man of scientific studies, and of literary studies, respectively, not
for success, in any occupation or profession, nor for any other gainful pur-
pose, but for what may be called the enjoyment of life after university edu-
cation has ended.

All education has two sides. It is meant to impart the knowledge, the
skill, the habits of diligence, and concentration, which are needed to insure
practical success. It is also meant to form the character, to implant taste, to
cultivate the imagination and the emotions, to prepare a man to enjoy those
delights which belong to hours of leisure, and to the inner life which goes
Qn, or ought to go on, all the time within his own heart.

* * *

The Newman Club of the University of California in its attractive Cal-
endar announces the subjects of its lectures during the Fall Term as fol-
lows:

I. The Philosophy of Religion; II. Religion and Morality; III. Reli-
gion and Philosophy; IV. The Demands of the Will; V. The Psychology
of the Act of Faith; VI. The Psychology of Conversion; VII. The Psy-
chology of the Religious Character; VIII. The Ideals of the Religious Life;
IX. Neo-Platonic and Christian Mysticism.

Addresses: Ethical Standards in Public Life. By James D. Phelan.
The Liturgical Beginnings of the Modern Drama. By Professor Martin C.
Flaherty. M. C. M.

, BOOKS RECEIVED.

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, New York:

The Seeming Unreality of the Spiritual Life. By Henry Churchill Kiag. Pp. «s6.
Price $1.50.

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York :

The Medici Popes. By Herbert M. Vaughan, B.A. 111. Pp. xxii.-359.

BENZIGER BROTHERS, New York :

St. Thomas of Canterbury. By Robert Hugh Benson. Pp. 167. 111. Price 86 cents.
Of the Imitation of Christ. By Thomas a Kempis. Price $2 net. Stories for You and
Me. By Mother Mary Salome. Pp. 165. Price 75 cents. A No-vena for the Holy
Souls in Purgatory. Compiled and Edited by Very Rev. R. A. O'Gorman, O.S.A.
Price 40 cents. The Saint of the Eucharist. By Fr. O. Staniforth, O.S.F.C. Pp.
xxxi.-246. Price $1.25 net. Catholic Life; or, the Feasts, Fasts, and Devotions of the
Ecclesiastical Year. Pp. viii.-ipg. 111. Price 75 cents. The Daily Companion for the
Use of Religious. Pp. 161. The Man' s Hands ; and Other Stories. By R. P. Garrold,
S.J. Price 60 cents. Lourdes. A History of Its Apparitions and Cures. By Georgag
Bertin. Authorized Translation by Mrs. Philip Gibbs.

FR. PUSTET & Co., New York:

Graduale Sacrosanctce Romanes Ecclesite De Tempore et de Sanctis SS. D. N. Pit. X. Pon-
tificis MaximiJussu Restitutum et Editum. Pp. xviii.-i52.

P. J. KENEDY & SONS, New York :

Frequent and Daily Communion. By Fr. J. Lintelo, S.J. Pp. 61. Paper.1

THE MASON-HENRY PRESS, Syracuse, N. Y. •

Bible Studies. By John F. Mullany, LL.D. Pp. x.-i87.

SMALL, MAYNARD & Co., Boston, Mass.:

Long Odds. By Harold Bindloss. Pp. 401. I and My True Love. Pp. 353. Pri««
$1.50. The Panther. By Anne Warner. Pp. 91. Price $1.25.

LITTLE, BROWN & Co., Boston:

Untrodden English Ways. By Henry C. Shelley. Pp. xv.-34i. 111. Price $3. net. The
Man Who Ended War. By Hollis Godfrey. 111. Pp. 301. Price $1.50. The Long
Arm of Mannister. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 111. Pp. 278. Price $1.50.

HOUGHTON MlFFLIN COMPANY, Boston :

A Happy Half-Century ; and Other Essays. By Agnes Repplier. Pp. viii.-249. Price
$1.10 net. The Moons of Balbanca. By M. E. M. Davis. 111. Pp. 180. Price $i net.
Lewis Rand. By Mary [ohnston. 111. Pp. 510. Price $1.50. Cupid's Almanac and
Guide to Hearticulture. For this Year and Next. 111. Price 90 cents.

OLITER DITSON COMPANY, Boston :

Twelve Lessons in the Fundamentals of Voice Production. By A. L. Manchester. Pp. 92.
Price $i postpaid. Mass in D. By J. D. Kumin. Pp. 20. Price 40 cents. Panse-
rons A.B.C.of Music. Revised and Extended by N. Clifford. Pp. iv.-i48. Price $i.
Requiem Mass. By Fr. X. Schmidt. Pp. 28. Price 40 cents.

L. C. PAGE & Co., Boston:

The Cathedrals and Churches of Northern Italy. By T. Francis Bumpus. 111. Pp. 493.
Price $2 50.

B. HERDER, St. Louis:

The See of Peter and the Voice of Antiquity. By Rev. Thomas Dolan. Pp. 106. Price
60 cents. Patrology. The Lives and Works of the Fathers of the Church. By Otto Bar-
denhewer, D D., Ph.D. Translated from the Second Edition by Thomas J. Shahan,
D.D. Pp. 680. Price $3.75. Messianic Philosophy. An Historical and Critical Ex-
amination of the Evidences for the Existence, Death, Resurrection, Ascension, and Di-
vinity of Jesus Christ. By Gideon W. B. Marsh. Pp. 180. Price $i. A Maiden Up-
to-Date. A Novel. By Genevieve Irons. Nizra, the Flower of the Parsa. By An-
drew Klarman. Price $l.

THE JAMES H. BARRY COMPANY, San Francisco:

The Missions and Missionaries of California. By Fr. Zephyrin Engelhardt, O.F.M. Vol.
I. Lower California. Price, prepaid, $2.75.

A. C. McCLURG & Co., Chicago:

The Flaming Sword; and Other Legends of Earth and Sky. By Edith Ogden Harriso*.
111. Pp. 134.

P. LETHIELLEUX, Paris:

L'Histoire et les Histoires dans la Bible. Par Mce. Landrieux. Pp. 96. Price 0.5*

Le Ptril Prussien. Par Dr. D'Okvietko. Pp. 112. Price ifr. 50.
EMILE NOURRY, Paris :

L'Eglise et la Science. Par J. Francais. Pp. 177. Price 2 fr. 50. La Resurrtctitn At
Christ. Par Paul le Breton. Pp. 97. Price T.fr. 25.

G. BEAUCHESNE, Paris:

Les Fianfailles et le Mariage. Par Lucien Choupin. Pp. 165. Price I fr. 60.

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD,

VOL. LXXXVIII. DECEMBER, 1908. No. 525.

A CAROL OF GIFTS.

BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY.

Three without slumber ride from afar,
Fain of the roads where palaces are ;
All by a shed as they ride in a row,
"Here! " is the cry of their vanishing Star.

First doth a graybeard, glittering fine,

L/ook on Messias in slant moonshine:

" This have I bought for Thee ! " Vainly : for lo,

Shut like a fern is the young hand divine.

Next doth a magian, mantled and tall,

Bow to the Ruler that reigns from a stall :

" This have I sought for Thee!" Though it be rare,

L/oth little fingers are letting it fall.

L/ast doth a stripling, bare in his pride,

Kneel by the L/over as if to abide :

' ' This have I wrought for Thee ! ' ' Answer him there

L/augh of a Child, and His arms opened wide.

IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK.
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 19

FOUR CELEBRITIES-BROTHERS BY MARRIAGE.

BY WILFRID WILBERFORCE.
II.— HENRY WILLIAM WILBERFORCE.

'ENRY WILLIAM WILBERFORCE was born on
September 22, 1807. He was the youngest son
of William Wilberforce, M. P. for the County
of York, and in the year of his birth his father,
after spending many Sessions of Parliament in
trying to induce the House of Commons to destroy the in-
human traffic in flesh and blood known as the African Slave
Trade, had the happiness of seeing his Bill to abolish that in-
famy pass into law. With a father so deeply religious it goes
without saying that Henry was brought up to regard religion
as his highest ideal. At that time piety in England meant
either Evangelicalism or Methodism. Indeed it was very com-
mon for Evangelicals to be called " Methodists*' by those who
scoffed at religion altogether. It was intended, of course, as a
term of reproach, but it was, in truth, an honorable tribute to
a man's earnestness. The Church of England had sunk into
that sleep which had almost become death, and Wesley in his
attempt to rouse her had been driven like an alien and an in-
truder from her fold. The spirit of Charles Simeon, however,
had leavened some of the Cambridge men — among others John
Sargent (sometime a Fellow of King's College), Rector of
Lavington and Graffham, to whom Henry Wilberforce was sent
as a resident pupil when he was quite a small boy. In Sar-
gent's house he found an atmosphere of religion as fervent as
in his own home, and the training which he there received was
supplemented by the letters which William Wilberforce wrote to
him with tolerable frequency. At Lavington Henry remained
during the greater part of his boyhood, sharing his studies
with one of Mr. Sargent's sons, and forming a friendship with
the four " celebrated Miss Sargents," to use Mozley's expres-
sion. With one of these sisters, Mary, the friendship then made
led eventually to Henry's most happy marriage.

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 291

When the time came for him to be specially prepared for
the University, he was removed from Lavington and placed
with a clergyman named Spragge, who took private pupils at
Little Boundes near Tunbridge Wells, whence, at Michaelmas,
1826, he went to Oriel College, Oxford — at that time the lead-
ing college in the University so far as learning and culture were
concerned. The Common Room of Oriel contained at or about
that time a unique assembly of genius and talent. Head and
shoulders above all of course was John Henry Newman. Keble,
too, was there, destined later on to be the Poet of the Oxford
Movement ; William James, who taught Newman the doctrine
of Apostolical Succession in the course of a walk round Christ
Church meadow; Arnold, already beginning to show his genius
as an up-bringer of boys; Whately, who, Newman tells us,
"emphatically opened my mind, and taught me to think and
to use my reason"; Hawkins, who taught him to weigh his
words, and to be cautious in his statements; last, but not least,
there were two probationer Fellows, Robert Isaac Wilberforce,
Henry's elder brother, called in all seriousness the Encyclopaedia
of the Church of England, a man whose learning was only
equalled in depth by his extraordinary humility, and Richard
Hurrell Froude, to whom immortality has been bequeathed by
his friendship with Newman. Frederic Rogers was also at
Oriel, as well as S. F. Wood, George Dudley Ryder, William
Froude, F.R.S., and Thomas Mozley, with each of whom Henry
Wilberforce formed a warm friendship. At that date Oriel
was the only college which threw open its Fellowships to the
whole University. It thus drew to itself the choicest spirits
and the most charming personalities of every other college, and
made for itself a name and a position which no other college
has possessed before or since. Consequently an Oriel Fellow-
ship had come to be regarded as the blue-ribbon of the Uni-
versity.

Though never formally his college tutor, Newman allowed
Henry Wilberforce to become acquainted with him almost im-
mediately after his matriculation at Oriel, and as time went on
the acquaintance thus begun ripened into lifelong intimacy and
friendship. In an exquisite but all too brief Memoir of his
friend, the great Cardinal describes him on his first arrival at
Oxford as, " small and timid, shrinking from notice, with a
bright face and intelligent eyes/1 and he adds that, "partly

293 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

from his name, partly from his appearance, I was at once drawn
towards him," and certainly Henry felt a corresponding attrac-
tion towards Newman. For part of four long vacations he read
with him as his private tutor, and Newman allowed him frequent
access to his rooms, so that the two soon became very intimate.
Little playful touches in Newman's letters show the closeness
which this friendship had reached between the Fellow and the
young undergraduate. For instance, writing to Hurrell Froude
under date June, 1828, before Henry had been two years at the
University, Newman says: "I should have sent you more of a
letter, but that plague, Henry Wilberforce, has been consuming
the last half hour before ten by his nonsensical chat." And
to his mother, to whom his friend was paying a visit, he writes,
in 1832: " H. W. perhaps will try to worm some of my ser-
mons out of you to carry out of Oxford — do not let him."

Newman himself has described a scene which seems to have
made a great impression at the time in the University. Wil-
berforce was twice President of the Debating Society called the
Union, which has been the oratorical nursery of some of our
greatest statesmen, prelates, and lawyers. Gladstone, Manning,
Roundell Palmer, Hope-Scott, Tait (afterwards Bishop of Lon-
don and Archbishop of Canterbury), to mention only a few
names, were in their day distinguished members of the Union,
and to be elected President, and that twice over, was no small
tribute to a man's popularity and oratorical powers. On one

occasion, Lord , an undergraduate, who had been dining

well but not wisely, entered the Hall in the course of a de-
bate. He insisted upon his right to address the House, and he
proceeded to do so with such a ludicrous mixture of sense and
nonsense that the assembly was thrown into confusion. The
debate threatened to collapse altogether, when Wilberforce rose
from the President's chair and calmly said: "Has the noble
Lord no friends here ? " The effect was instantaneous. Friends
came forward and led the offender from the room. Newman
has referred in his Memoir to Henry Wilberforce's gift of speak-
ing. "He had," writes the Cardinal, "an oratorical talent so
natural and pleasant, so easy, forcible, and persuasive, as to open
upon him the prospect of rising to the foremost rank in his
profession had he been a lawyer." At one time indeed he seri-
ously thought of adopting a legal career, and he had entered
his name at one of the Inns of Court. There is a letter ex-

i9o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 293

tant from William Wilberforce on this subject written to New-
man, which it may be of interest to quote :

"I need scarcely assure you," he writes, "that your testi-
mony in my dear Henry's favor is not a little gratifying to
me. And I can truly assure you that the pleasure it gives me
is much enhanced by the high respect for the principles, the
judgment, and the means of information of the individual by
whom that favorable opinion was expressed. I believe I had
been led to underrate the probabilities of Henry's succeeding
in his competition for the Fellowship, and therefore I was less
disappointed. I know not your opinion as to the profession to
which he should devote himself. You probably have heard that
he has entered into one of the Inns of Court, though declaring
it is contrary to his inclination. I leave the decision entirely
to himself."

Whether inclined or not, Henry Wilberforce used always to
say that, but for Newman, he would have gone to the Bar.
This was very likely quite true, but as Newman said : " We
are blind to the future, and are forced to decide, whether for
ourselves or for others, according to what seems best at the
time being." But it is not at all unlikely that but for his cler-
ical profession Wilberforce would not have been introduced to
those realms of thought and study which led him at last to the
Catholic Church.

He took his degree in the same year as Manning, 1830, and
was placed in the First Class in Classics and the Second in
Mathematics. His natural aptitude was for the latter branch
of study, and he had, in consequence, paid all the greater at-
tention to Classics. It was exactly the reverse with his brother,
Samuel, whose tastes lay more with classical studies. He there-
fore worked hard at Mathematics and gained a First in them,
being placed in the Second Class for Classics. Henry Wilber-
force remained at Oxford for nearly a year after taking his
degree, leaving the University for good on April 30, 1831,
though it was not until two years later that he became Master
of Arts.

Some time seems to have passed before he finally decided
upon taking Orders. Newman, in a letter to an intimate friend,
complains in a joking way that he hears that " that wretch,
Henry Wilberforce, instead of settling to some serious work,
has been falling in and out of love in Yorkshire." The very

294 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

charm which made him everywhere a welcome visitor inclined
him in turn to be susceptible, but it may be taken as certain
that he was never unfaithful to his first affection for Mary Sar-
gent, whom he had got to know so well during his sojourn at
Lavington and his subsequent visits there. His brother Samuel
was already married to Emily Sargent, which brought about
even more intimate ties between the two families.

I suppose I am safe in saying that Newman disliked hear-
ing of clergymen marrying. At least he regretted it in the
case of those who shared his views and were likely to work
upon his lines. So fully does Henry seem to have known this
that he shrank from telling his friend of his engagement, though
he had actually gone to Oxford for that very purpose. In
January, 1834, writing to Frederic Rogers, in later days Lord
Blachford, Newman warns his friend not to "believe a silly
report that is in circulation that he (H. Wilberforce) is
engaged to be married. Not that such an event is not
likely, but I am sure it cannot be true as a matter of fact;
besides he has been staying here (Oriel), and though we often
talked on the subject, he said nothing about it, which I am
sure he would have done were it a fact, for the report goes
on to say that he has told other people. For myself, I am
spreading my incredulity, and contradicting it in every direc-
tion, and will not believe it, though I saw the event in the
papers, till he tells me. Nay, I doubt whether I ought then
to believe it, if he were to say he had really told others and
not me."

This letter shows clearly that Newman would have felt it a
distinct breach of friendship between them if Henry had al-
lowed any one but himself to inform him of his engagement.
Rogers, who knew that the "silly report " was certainly true,
hastened to send Henry Wilberforce the substance of Newman's
letter.

"I have no wish whatever," writes Henry in reply, "to
deny the report in question. Indeed though I did not tell
Neander* (as who would?) yet I did tell his sister and gave
her leave to tell him. Whether Neander will cut me I don't
kno\v. I hope my other Oxford friends will continue my
friends still. It is, I am sure, very foolish of Newman on mere
principles of calculation if he gives up all his friends on their

* Henry Wilberforce's occasional playful name for Newman.

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 295

marriage ; for how can he expect men (however well inclined)
to do much in our cause without co-operation ? I suppose,
however, he will cut me. I cannot help it. At any rate you
must not. . . . Nor, again, am I without a feeling of the
danger, as you know, of married priests in these days of trouble
and rebuke, but I have taken my line ; and after all I am very
certain that men, failing of doing their duty, oftener find an
excuse than a cause in their circumstances." " Neander," it
need hardly be said, did not cut Henry Wilberforce, and he
even became godfather to his first-born and remained on terms
of intimacy to the end. Probably it never even occurred to
Newman to break with his friend, but it is a fact for which I
can vouch that he never wholly forgot that Henry had not
told him the news of his engagement. The reply of Frederic
Rogers to Newman is in itself so interesting that, even apart
from its subject, it is worth quoting here. Under date Janu-
ary 20, 1834, he writes: " Many thanks for your letter in which
however I must say you do not use your judgment. How can
you possibly suppose that after your way of treating perditum
ovem, H. Wilberforce, you would be his first confidant? The
fact obviously is that he came to Oxford with the intention of
breaking the matter to you ; but when he came near, and saw
how fierce you looked, his heart failed him, and he retreated
dpraktos. And now at this moment he is hesitating about the
best way of breaking it, and hoping that some one else will
save him the pain. As for me I cannot consent to join you
in your unbelief; particularly as I have heard it from a person
who professed to have been told it as a great secret by Mrs.
H. M. [probably Mrs. Henry Manning] with divers circum-
stances, the satisfaction of Mrs. Sargent in it, with sundry other
particulars. If I could think, as you seem to do, that any in-
credulity on my part could avert, or even retard, the catas-
trophe, perhaps that might alter my way of going on. As it
is, I have just fired off a letter of condolence, which I was en-
gaged on when your letter reached me."

From this it would seem that Rogers also disliked the idea
of clergymen marrying", unless indeed his language about " avert-
ing the catastrophe " was merely a joking agreement with New-
man's view, for on every other ground the marriage was most
desirable on both sides. That it was ideally happy, no one
who knew Henry Wilberforce and his wife could feel a mo-

296 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

merit's doubt. The late Father Coffin, the Redemptorist, who
became in his old age Bishop of Southwark, always used to
say when consulted by people about marriage: " If you can be
as happily mated as Henry Wilberforce well and good, but
very few people are.11 In June, 1834, a month before the mar-
riage took place, Newman writes to Hurrell Froude, using the
word that Froude himself was so fond of applying to those
who abandoned the party. " Henry Wilberforce engaged to
marry Miss Sargent last December. Was afraid to tell me and

left Oxford without; spread abroad I had cut R for marrying.

Yet he has not ratted, and will not (so be it). Marriage, when
a crime, is a crime which it is criminal to repent of."

It would seem that William Wilberforce was so far from
sympathizing with the views which Newman and Froude were
beginning to formulate that he had been inclined to forbid
his son taking orders. His deeply-rooted Evangelicalism was
shocked at what he probably regarded as dangerous novelties.
Mr. Gladstone's testimony on this point is interesting. He
says: "On one occasion Henry Wilberforce told me in his
abrupt fashion that he was a High Churchman. I certainly
was surprised that one bearing his name had given up Evan-
gelicalism. His father, the great philanthropist, was indignant
beyond measure, and, fearing that the name would be degraded,
was about to forbid his son Henry taking Orders, but, having
a high opinion of Manning's piety and good sense, consulted
him on the point. Manning said : ' Let him become a clergy-
man; work among the poor, and the visiting of the sick and
dying, will soon knock such High Church nonsense out of his
head!' This was of course at a time when Manning still
believed in "the blessed results of the Reformation." It was
not until much later that the waves of controversy broke upon the
peaceful shores of Lavington and harassed the soul of its rector.

So by the summer of 1834, a year after his father's death,
Henry Wilberforce was married and a clergyman, with what
was then known as a " Perpetual Curacy," at Bransgore, a typic-
ally English village on the borders of the New Forest. The
idyllic beauty of the spot, the simplicity of the people, the
character of the work, filled the hearts of the young couple
with happiness. Occasional visits from Oxford friends brought
them tidings of the outside world, but these, welcome as they
were, were mere accidents, not essentials, of happiness. Life

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 297

was quite full enough, with the villagers to be taught, the
sick to be consoled, and the wanderers to be reclaimed, in some
of which ministrations Mary Wilberforce took her part. A
few years ago the present writer was exploring the New For-
est and came upon Bransgore. There was a white-headed old
cobbler with a patient face and busy hand. Did he remember
a clergyman named Wilberforce ? His eyes seemed to light up
at the name. "Oh, yes, sir; indeed I do. And Mrs. Wilber-
force used to teach us children the Catechism." Her gracious
memory had endured with him through sixty years of a life
of toil. Nor was the zeal of the young curate satisfied with
the limits of the village. In the neighboring hamlet of Burley
he managed to build a church, taking upon himself a great
part of the cost. His purse indeed was in the ordinary routine
too narrow to allow of much expenditure on brick and mortar,
but just as the Burley Church was in course of construction
there came a windfall.

He had always been a ready speaker and writer, but he
never wrote so well as when he was under pressure. To know
that the "printer's devil" was waiting for "copy" was a stim-
ulus to him, and at such a time the reading of the past few
weeks would pour from his pen in uninterrupted flow. In 1836
the Denier's Theological Prize — a considerable sum of money —
was offered by the University of Oxford for an essay on " Faith
in the Holy Trinity." Henry had been reading up the subject,
storing his astounding memory with facts, dates, and authori-
ties. But now it would seem as though he had put off the
writing too long. It was Friday evening. The essays were to
be dropped into the Vice-Chancellor's box on Monday ; the
Sunday duty had to be got through, and Henry had not set
pen to paper ! But it happened that his friend, Thomas Moz-
ley, was in the neighborhood. Hearing of the dilemma he of-
fered to take the Sunday duty. Thus freed, Henry set to work
at once and managed to finish his essay in time. The prize
was awarded to it, and the Burley Church fund was the richer
by £200.

This service of Mozley was a return for something which
Wilberforce had been able to do for him seven years before.
At the Oriel Fellowship election of 1829, there was one un-
doubted vacancy caused by the death of William Churton,
"who had passed away" to use Mozley's words, "in the prime

2o8 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

and sweetness of youth." For this vacancy Mozley had no
thought of standing. But if another vacancy occurred he de-
termined to become a candidate. It depended upon whether
Pusey remained Fellow or not. Ten days before Passion Week
Mozley learned that there would be no second vacancy, and
he had given up all thought of standing. He was then tutor
to the son of Lord Doneraille, a representative peer of Ireland
and a Master of Hounds. The family seems to have valued
him greatly, and much hoped that he would not leave them.
They were then at Cheltenham, but a little later on they all
started northwards in the big family coach, which was then the
method of traveling with people of means. They were on their
way to the family seat in County Cork, but in no hurry to
get there, and they stopped at all sorts of places on the way,
exploring towns, examining churches, castles, city walls, and
ruins. Chester and its arcades were visited, Wrexhsm Church
tower was duly ascended and the quaint market admired.
Shrewsbury, with its historical and Shakespearean associations,
was seen at leisure, as the party became guests there of Colo-
nel Leighton, a kinsman of Lord Doneraille. At last they
moved on to Norton Priory near the Mersey, just within sight
of the shipping of Liverpool Docks. Thence they were to
cross the channel to Ireland. Meanwhile they were to be
entertained by Sir Richard Brooke, who had assembled a
large party in their honor. There was to be a grand ban-
quet and a performance of music.

Throughout this journey, all unsuspected by Mozley, Henry
Wilberforce was hot upon his track.

Cardinal Newman once lent the present writer a long itin-
erary, written by himself, giving all the details of this notable
journey. It was a sort of Evangeline experience. Henry would
arrive, tired and dusty, at some hotel, only to be told that the
travelers had left two day before. Fresh horses would be or-
dered, a hasty meal snatched, and the pursuit continued. An-
other hotel would be reached and the tidings given that the
family had been there some twenty or thirty hours before.
At last, after much hard day-and-night travel, Henry ran his
quarry to earth at Norton Priory. He was the bearer of an
urgent message from Newman to the effect that Pusey's Fellow-
ship had been declared vacant and that Mozley must hasten
back to Oxford at once.

i9o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 299

It is not easy to realize what an Oriel Fellowship meant in
those days, but it was a very great prize, and Mozley owed
its possession entirely to Henry Wilberforce's friendly act in
chasing him almost along the length of England — a journey
which then occupied several days.

Mozley, starting from Liverpool as he did on the afternoon
of one day, was able to reach Oxford on the morning of the
next. But his, of course, was a direct journey. He came too
late for some formalities and for the first part of the exami-
nation, but under the circumstances this was excused, and he
was duly elected Fellow of Oriel.

The peaceful though busy life at Bransgore was varied by
occasional visits to Lavington, the beautiful seat of which Mary
Wilberforce was one of the co-heiresses. When Mr. Sargent
died, his son who would have succeeded to the estate had al-
ready predeceased him, and the question arose among the four
sisters as to the disposal of the property. Should it be sold
and the money divided among them ? With one voice they
protested against this. Nothing could reconcile the sisters to
such an act of sacrilege. No, let the eldest sister, Emily, with
her husband Samuel Wilberforce, make it her home. The close
affection which united the sisters to one another would make
the place their home as well. Whether any kind of compen-
sation was made to the three younger sisters I am unable to
say. Some arrangement of the kind must, I should think, have
been come to. Certain it is, however, that when religious es-
trangement came to divide the family, Lavington, so far from
being a home to the two surviving sisters who committed the
unpardonable sin of embracing the ancient faith, became, if not
absolutely tabooed, at least only a place where for some ex-
ceptional reason they were permitted to stay for a limited time.
Indeed I very much doubt whether Sophia Ryder, the young-
est sister, ever set foot within Lavirgton after her conversion
in 1846. She died in 1850. As for Mary, the sole survivor,
she paid one or two visits, and she and her husband were in-
vited in 1861 to spend a holiday at Lavington, where George
Ryder and his motherless children joined them. But Bishop
Wilberforce took care to be absent, and carefully stipulated
with his brother and brother in-law that his Catholic relations
should never go to Mass at Burton Park, which was the near-
est chapel. They unwillingly submitted to this absurd and un-

3oo FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

reasonable condition, and drove each Sunday, at considerable
expense, to Slindon, seven miles away.

The Bishop used to tell his brother that he disliked invit-
ing him to be his guest because, as a Catholic, he could not
join in family prayers, and " the servants will see that there is
some difference between us."

"So there is," retorted Henry, "I belong to the true Church
and you do not."

On another occasion the Bishop was speaking in sad tones
of the estrangement between them. " I can't let my children
mix with yours as I should otherwise have liked to do."

" Quite right, my dear Sam," was Henry's unexpected re-
ply, "the truth is much more infectious than scarlet fever."

But this is anticipating, for in those early days at Brans-
gore Henry's ideas of the truth were very different. He often
used to say that till he was a grown up man he was convinced
that had he been able to talk for half an hour with a Catholic,
he could, with the Bible in his hand, have converted him to
Protestantism !

It was during his sojourn at Bransgore that he learnt, to
his unspeakable dismay, that his great and venerated leader,
John Henry Newman, had received a blow which, temporarily
at least, had shaken his full confidence in the Church of Eng-
land. This was in the beginning of October, 1839. Newman
had, from the middle of June until the end of August, been
studying the history of the Monophysites. It was during this
course of reading, he tells us, " that for the first time a doubt
came upon me of the tenableness of Anglicanism. ... By
the end of August I was seriously alarmed." While he was
thus engaged a friend drew his attention to an article by Wise-
man in the Dublin Review on the "Anglican Claim." In this
article the writer had quoted the words of St. Augustine,
«' Securus judicat orbis terrarum," and these words and their
significance— as great now as when they were first penned —
kept ringing in his ears.

Originally, indeed, they had been written against the Do-
natists, but they applied with equal cogency against the Mono-
physites. Newman had looked to antiquity as his special, nay,
his only support, and his Via Media "was to be a sort of re-
modelled and adapted Antiquity." And, in the words of St.
Augustine, he saw "Antiquity deciding against itself." "By

i9o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 301

those great words of the ancient Father, the theory of the
Via Media was absolutely pulverized."

It was when walking in the New Forest that Newman made
to Henry Wilberforce the " astounding confidence, mentioning
the subjects which had inspired the doubt — the position of St.
Leo in the Monophysite controversy and the principle Securus
judicat orbis terrarum in that of the Donatists. He added that
he felt confident that when he returned to his rooms and was
able fully and calmly to consider the whole matter, he should
see his way completely out of the difficulty. But he said :
'I cannot conceal from myself that, for the first time since I
began the study of theology, a vista has been opened before
me, to the end of which I do not see.11'*

The form of his expression was borrowed from the surround-
ing scenery. Henry Wilberforce was horrified and thunder-
struck by Newman's words. He had, of course, at that time
the fullest confidence in the Church of England, while Newman
he regarded as one of its strongest pillars. And here was the
great leader himself expressing doubt of its being a part of
the Catholic Church.

How Newman dealt with this " ghost " as he calls it, this
" shadow of a hand on the wall," how it again unexpectedly
appeared to him, and how he finally acted towards it, is fully
recorded in his own matchless way in the pages of the Apo-
logia, and need not be further spoken of here.

Henry Wilberforce remained at Bransgore until 1841, when
he was presented to the Perpetual Curacy of Walmer in Kent.
Here he was delighted to number among his parishioners the
sea-faring population of Deal. There is something extremely
attractive in the hearty, straightforward bluffness of sailors, and
Mr. Wilberforce's earnestness won for him their respect in a
remarkable degree. There is a tradition about his life at Wal-
mer which is worth repeating here. Among his parishioners
was the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, who resides in
Walmer Castle. At that time the office of Warden was held
by no less a personage than the great Duke of Wellington.
No one knew the value of discipline better than he, and no
one held more rigid views of duty. But he was, of course, ac-
customed at that time of his life to command rather than obey.
There is an old story to the effect that a clergyman on one

* See the article by Henry Wilberforce in the Dublin Review for April, 1869.

FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

occasion asked his Grace about what he would like the sermon
to be. "About ten minutes/' the Duke is reported to have
answered. But Mr. Wilberforce was a clergyman of a different
sort. Something or other was being done by him in the par-
ish of which the Duke did not approve. He told Wilberforce
that it must be altered.

"You are the great Duke of Wellington/' replied the Per-
petual Curate, "but I am the clerg>man of this parish."

It was probably this incident that Cardinal Ntwman had in
mind when he wrote of Henry Wilberforce that " gentle and
unassuming as he was at first sight and in his ordinary be-
havior, and averse to all that was pretentious or overbearing,
he had the command of plain words and strong acts when the
occasion called for them ; and could with fearlessness, direct-
ness, and determination speak his own mind and cany out his
own views of duty."

It is extremely likely that the Duke's respect for his clergy-
man was increased rather than diminished by this little en-
counter.

There is, however, another and a pleasanter incident con-
nected with this period. Wilberforce's two elder sons were one
day walking out with their nurse. They were met by an old
gentleman who stopped them and inquired their names. After
talking for a few minutes and finding that one of them was,
like himself, named Arthur, he put a ribbon round the neck
of each boy — one red and one blue — to which a shilling was
attached, and said : " You must remember that these were given
to you by the Duke of Wellington."

Many years afterwards one of these boys, Arthur Wilber-
force, became a priest of the Dominican Order and a celebrated
missioner. A friend who knew that he was in the habit of
losing everything he possessed, except the grace of God, asked
him one day what had become of his shilling. He looked at
his questioner with a smile. " I suppose I lost it," he said.
Then he added: " But what does that matter if I have not lost
the Image of the Heavenly King from my soul?"*

Mr. Wilberforce's sojourn at Walmer was not extended be-
yond two years. In 1843 he was presented to the valuable
living of East Farleigh in Kent, of which his brother Robert

* See The Life and Letters of Father Bertrand Wilberforce, of the Order of Preachers, by
H. M. Capes. Sands & Co. 1906.

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 303

had been Vicar before him. At this period of his life his means
were greater than at any other before or after, and yet visitors
were struck with the absence in the parsonage of anything be-
yond necessities in the way of comfort. To be in any sense
parsimonious was utterly impossible to him, and he was the
very soul of hospitality ; but of his own personal comfort he
was conspicuously heedless, and it was with the utmost diffi-
culty that he could be induced to spend money upon himself.

" His parsonage/' writes Cardinal Newman in his Memoir,
"in its domestic order, its frugality, its bountiful alms, and its
atmosphere of religious reverence and peace, was, as it ought
to be, the mainspring and center of that influence which he ex-
ercised upon the people committed to him. To them, and to
their needs, temporal and spiritual, he gave himself wholly* He
had an almost overwhelming sense of the responsibilities which
lay upon him as the pastor of a parish; and his habits and
ways, his words and deeds, his demeanor, his dress, and his
general self neglect all in one way or other spoke to my in-
formant of that simplicity of mind and humility which I recog-
nized in him when he was a youth at Oxford." His residence
at Bransgore and at East Farleigh was marked by the birth of
eight out of his nine children; but it was also marked by the
death of three of the number. But, as his friend Cardinal New-
man observes, " this trial, acute as it was, has been the only
trial of his domestic life." Indeed, the home at East Farleigh
was an ideally bright and beautiful one — a fact which enhanced
Henry Wilberforce's merit in sacrificing it when God called
upon him to do so.

The hop-fields of Kent are visited every year by numbers
of poor Irish laborers who make a scanty living by gathering
in the hops for the neighboring farmers. Of late years the
Franciscan Friars have organized missions for the benefit of
these poor people, and many Catholic laymen generously de-
vote a large part of their summer holiday to helping on this
good work.

But in Mr. Wilberforce's time, though the Irish pickers made
an annual invasion into his and neighboring parishes, there were
no facilities for the practice of their religion. In 1849, when
the hop harvest was in full swing, a terrible outbreak of Asiatic
cholera occurred among the pickers. Many lay dead or dying
in the fields and lanes around, and the resources of the par-

FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

sonage were strained to the utmost to supply the needs of the
poor sufferers. Regardless of danger Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce
nursed and tended the cholera-stricken patients and provided
them with every material comfort and medical help. They
turned the parish schoolroom into a hospital, and in deference
to the religion of their guests they fixed a holy-water stoup
over each bed.

But there was one thing that Wilberforce could not do, and
that was to give spiritual consolation to these poor Irish hop-
pickers. The priest at Maidstone did all he could, but what
was he among so many ? In this dilemma Henry Wilberforce
sent to London for help. Father Faber and one or two other
Oratorian Fathers came to assist the sick and dying Irish.
Two nuns of the Good Shepherd also came, and their services
as nurses were much appreciated. The result of Henry Wil-
berforce's kindness was that very many souls received the Sac-
raments which in some cases had been neglected for years, and
many died fortified with the Holy Unction. During the worst
part of the outbreak of cholera Mr. and Mrs. George Ryder, the
latter being Mary Wilberforce's youngest sister, were guests at
the Vicarage, and it was through the medium of George Ryder
that the priests and nuns were obtained.

One day Mrs. Ryder and her sister were watching one of
the priests giving Extreme Unction to a dying man. Mrs. Ry-
der was at this time a Catholic, having been received in Rome
three years before. "Mary," she said very earnestly, "what-
ever you do, do not die without that." Six months later Mrs.
Ryder died. Her death was very sudden and unexpected, as was
also that of her sister, which took place nearly thirty years later.
It was God's Will that both should die without the Holy Unc-
tion, but from no fault of theirs, and after such lives as they
had led no death, however sudden, could be unprepared.

The Irish who were the objects of the kindness of Henry
Wilberforce and his family had prayed fervently for their
benefactors, and these prayers were answered to the full. As
Cardinal Newman wrote: "Every act of charity done for our
Lord's sake has its reward from Him; and Mr. Wilberforce
used to call to mind with the deepest gratitude that on the
day of the year on which he had' received our Lord's servants
into his house, he and his were, through our Lord's mercy,
received into the Everlasting Home of the Catholic Church/'

1908.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 305

The family went in the autumn of 1850 to Malines, and
thence Henry Wilberforce often went to visit the Jesuit house
in Brussels. Here he made a retreat, at the end of which he
was received into the Catholic Church. Mrs. Wilberforce had
been received three months earlier, just before the birth of her
youngest son.

To resign a genial, successful, and lucrative career in middle
life, to say farewell to home and friends, and to sacrifice the
prospects of one's family, are acts that need no common measure
of grace and fortitude. In the middle of last century such an
act of abnegation involved peculiar suffering. The ruin of one's
career and the loss of one's income were bad enough, but a
convert in the fifties had no mercy to expect from his friends;
by common agreement he was to be given no quarter. " Noth-
ing but conscience," said Henry Wilberforce on one occasion,
"could have reconciled me to the loss of my friends"; and
so utterly were the motives of converts misunderstood that one
of Mary Wilberforce's intimate friends suggested that, as she
was dissatisfied with the English Church, she might join the
Wesleyans, on the ground that "they at least believe in our
Lord."

After a period spent at Rugby, during which he published
a clear and convincing account of his "Reasons for Submitting
to the Catholic Church," Mr. Wilberforce crossed over to Ire-
land, where he labored in defence of Catholics who were suf-
fering from the attacks of "souper" proselytism. In one parish
alone he helped to starve out no fewer than four Protestant
schools established to pervert the Catholic population. In his
visits from cottage to cottage, he urged parents to undergo any
degree of poverty and loss rather than sacrifice the faith of
their children. As Cardinal Newman says: "His very pres-
ence preached, though he had no ecclesiastical position ; for it
spoke of a man who, at the call of Christ, had left his nets
and fishing, and all his worldly surroundings, to follow Him."

On property which at this time he owned in one of the
islands off the Galway coast, he succeeded in establishing a
resident priest, where hitherto Mass had been said on only
•ncertain and comparatively rare occasions.

From 1854 to 1863 Mr. Wilberforce resided in London,
where he acted as proprietor and editor of the Catholic Stand-
ard, or, as he afterwards named it, the Weekly Register. During
VOL. LXXXVIII — 20

3o6 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.,

these years he paid two visits to Rome, the first in the winter
of 1859 60 and the second in 1862 on the occasion of the
canonization of the Japanese Martyrs. The letters which he
wrote describing the solemnity were published in the Weekly
Register.

The incidents which occurred in Jamaica in 1865, under
the governorship of Edward Eyre, raised in Henry Wiberforce
the noble spirit that had actuated his father. His articles on
the much discussed negro question were greatly admired by
John Stuart Mill, Richard Hutton, and other authorities. But
towards the close of his life his chief occupation was the con-
tribution of articles to the Tablet and the Dublin Review.
Father Herbert Vaughan, afterwards Cardinal, was then the
proprietor of the Tablet. He told Mr. Wilberforce that if he
knew how many families had been converted by his articles, it
would be a grievous trial to his humility.

For the last six years of his life he lived at Woodchester,
in Gloucestershire, close to the Dominican Priory, where his
eldest son had a few years before been through his novitiate.
Many still live who remember the life of piety which Mr.
Wilberforce led. He himself unconsciously threw light upon
the devotion which possessed him, in a letter written to Mrs.
Wilberforce during a brief visit she paid to London. " I do not
in the least boast of it," wrote Mr. Wilberforce, " but, much as
I miss your company, I feel as though it would be impossible
to be dull, as long as I am able to visit the church and kneel
before our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament." His nephew, Sir
George Lisle Ryder, after a visit to Mr. Wilberforce and his
family in their Woodchester hcme, observed in his quiet, im-
pressive way : " I think it must be a favorite haunt of the
angels."

In 1871 he made a voyage to Jamaica, accompanied by his
youngest daughter. They went with the best introductions,
and were received with the utmost hospitality by the Governor,
Sir John Peter Grant, and by the Chief Justice, Sir John Lucie
Smith, and during the winter up in the hills by Mr. Justice
Ker. The journey was undertaken at the instance of his doctor,
for his health was at that time failing sensibly.

And he wrote to his wife: "Feeling how much older I am,
makes me feel ' the time is short/ The generations of men
are like 'the leaves/ as the Greek poet says; but our Lord

i9o8.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 307

Jesus is 'the Resurrection and the Life.1" And, conscious that
his long, happy married life was drawing to a close, he wrote
to his wife: "May God keep His Arm over you for good, and
unite us hereafter in His Kingdom."

I cannot do better than bring this article to an end by
quoting the words of his old friend, Cardinal Newman:

"He set out (for Jamaica) with a strong hope that his
health would receive real benefit both from the voyage and
from a climate so genial and so new to him. Yet his hope
was tempered by those dominant sentiments which, I believe,
never for an instant were absent from his mind. . . . He
was amazed and enchanted by the beauty of the island, and
for a time he really did gain good by going thither. The im-
provement, however, did not last; he returned home in July,
1872, to suffer a gradual but visible decay all through the fol-
lowing winter; and when Easter (1873) came, eternity was
close upon him."

During these sad but peaceful months some of his few sur-
viving Oxford friends came to bid him farewell, among others
Thomas Mozley, Father Newman (as he then was), and, I be-
lieve, Father Ambrose St. John, once his curate at East Far-
leigh. It was through Henry Wilberforce that Newman had
years before become acquainted with St. John, who was destined
to be his dearest and closest friend, the one "whom God gave
me when He took every one else away," as he tells us in the
Apologia.

Throughout the whole of Mr. Wilberforce's illness the
Dominican Fathers from the neighboring priory tended him with
the utmost kindness and solicitude, and several times a week
one or other of the community said Mass in the sick room by
special permission of the Bishop of Clifton. The temporary
altar then used was the same as that on which Father Dominic,
the Passionist, had celebrated Mass at Littlemore on the morn-
ing of Newman's reception into the Catholic Church.

To quote once more from the Cardinal's Memoir: "He had
ever lived in the presence of God, and I suppose it was this
that especially struck one of his Jamaica friends who has written,
on the news of his death : ' I looked upon him as one of the
most holy of men/ Indeed, in these last months his very life
was prayer and meditation. No one did I ever know who more
intimately realized the awfulness of the dark future than he.

3o8 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Dec.

His sole trust, hope, and consolation lay in his clear, untroubled
faith. All was dark except the great truths of the Catholic
religion ; but though they did not lighten the darkness, they
bridged over for him the abyss. He calmly spoke to me of
the solemn, unimaginable wonders which he was soon to see.
Now he sees them. Each of us in his own turn will see them
soon. May we be as prepared to see them as he was ! "

On the 23d of April, 1873, after receiving the Sacraments,
having several times during the preceding week received Viati-
cum from the hands of his Dominican son, he peacefully breathed
his last, surrounded by his wife and family. At his funeral, on
April 29, a short and deeply moving sermon was preached by
the great Oratorian whose words I have just quoted. It was
touching to see the venerable preacher as he stood in the
pulpit looking down upon the coffin of his old pupil and friend.
For many seconds together he remained silent, unable to arti-
culate a word, his face covered with his hands, the tears stream-
ing from his eyes. Then he looked up and in a pathetic tone
said: "Bear with me; I loved him so well"; and 'in broken
accents he went on to sketch his friend's life, showing how he
had willingly "become a fool for Christ's sake," and he ended
with a wail of " farewell, dearest brother," which sent a thrill
through the congregation.

Now Henry Wilberforce lies buried in the pretty church-
yard of the Dominicans, just under the East Window of the
Church, within hearing of " the holy mutter of the Mass," and
with him lies the body of his wife. On his tomb is written:
" And He said unto him : ' Follow Me/ and leaving all things
he followed Him. Within a bow- shot of this church (a perfect
specimen of early English art) stands the Franciscan Convent,
where their eldest daughter is one of the Community; and
within a few yards of the spot were lies all that is mortal of
his parents is the grave of their eldest son, Father Bertrand
Wilberforce, O.P., whose whole life was devoted to spreading
the faith for the sake of which his parents sacrificed money,
friends, and home, leaving their children an inheritance un-
speakably more precious than silver and gold. May their noble
self-sacrifice win them eternal crowns !

IN THE SIERRA MADRE.

BY CHRISTIAN REID.
III.

'N odd thing occurred to me the other day," re-
marked Stanfield, as the staff of the Santa Cata-
lina Mine sat in the corridor of the Company
house around the charming daughter of their
chief.

"And that was — ?" some one inquired.

" As I was returning from the trip I made to Copalquin, I
met Trescott out in the Sierra/1

"Trescott ! " Several voices simultaneously expressed sur-
prise. "When did he come back?"

"That's the odd thing," Stanfield explained. "He hasn't
come back, because it seems he has never been away."

" Never been away ! Why it's months since he left San
Andres—"

"To go out into the Sierra on a prospecting expedition.
Exactly. Well, he went into the Sierra and — stayed there.
That's all."

"Stayed where?"

" Lord knows. He was very vague in his answers to my
questions. All I gathered was that he had found a paying
prospect somewhere in the wilds, that he had stayed out there
to develop it, that he liked the Sierra and didn't think he
should ever leave it again."

" Great Scott ! " The listeners groaned in concert. " He
must have gone off his head completely."

Stanfield nodded. " Struck me there wasn't a doubt of it,"
he agreed.

Then Eleanor Bering spoke— the girl who had turned her
back on all that was most gay and brilliant in social life, to
come and visit her father in this remote Mexican mining camp,
and incidentally to work havoc with the hearts of all the
young Americans who gave the Santa Catalina the benefit of
their valuable services.

3IO IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.,

"Why should a man be supposed to have gone off his
head because he likes the Sierra ?" she asked. "/ like it."

" Oh, liking it, and going out and living in it, are two dif-
ferent things, you see," Stanfield told her. " You admire it
from a distance; but Trescott has plunged into it, turned his
back on civilization, and gone to — "

"Nature?"

" Well he might call it that, but I should call it something
else — savagery, we'll say. After all, however, I suppose it's
not remarkable that a man as hard hit by fate as he has beea
should feel inclined to bury himself from the world."

The chorus assented. " Not remarkable at all. Always
thought he'd do something of the kind. Perhaps blow out his
brains."

" He may do that yet," Stanfield said gravely.

Then, as if by mutual consent, the subject dropped, every
one seeming glad to get away from it, to judge by the haste
with which they plunged into other topics; and it was not un-
til later that, finding herself alone with Stanfield, Miss Bering
asked quietly :

" What happened to the man you were speaking of — the
man you met in the Sierra — to make him want to bury him-
self from the world ? "

Stanfield hesitated an instant before he answered.

" Tragedy happened to him, and professional shipwreck, his
friends forgot him, the world turned a cold shoulder, and — well
if you knew his story, you would wonder that he had not
blown out his brains before the Sierra became a refuge."

Eleanor looked out from the corridor where they sat to the
majestic outlines of the great Sierra encompassing them. There
was something very fine as well as beautiful in her face, and
an exquisite quality of sympathy in her voice when she said:

"Tell me his story." Then, as Stanfield again hesitated,
" I am not a jeune fille, you know. I have been out eight
years, and modern society talks of everything. What did he
do?"

" It wasn't so much a case of what he did as of what was
done to him," Stanfield said. "There's a woman in the story,
of course."

" Of course. Who ever heard of a story without a woman ? "
"And it's a queer fact that there doesn't seem to be any

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 311

medium for women. They are either very good or uncommon-
ly bad."

Miss Bering smiled. " That's a man's idea. As a matter
of fact, there are as many gray sheep among us as among men.
But never mind generalizing. What did this particular woman
do?"

"Shielded herself — and a man — by making her husband
believe that a compromising letter, which fell into his hands,
was written by Trescott, his best and oldest friend. In con-
sequence, he went for Trescott with such murderous energy
that the latter was forced to kill him."

"Ah!"

"There was a civil trial for murder, in which Trescott was
acquitted, as the killing had been clearly in self-defence; and
then there was a court-martial — they were both in the army —
as a result of which he was dismissed from the service for con-
duct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman."

After a short silence the girl said meditatively : " He must
be a strong man not to have killed himself — if you are sure he
was wronged throughout."

" I don't think there's much doubt of that. It was pretty
well understood that he was merely used by the woman as a
blind, though he made no effort to prove this at his trial, prob-
ably owing to misplaced chivalry."

" And what became of her ? "

" Oh, she married the other man in due course of time, and
is very prosperous, I believe. If any ghosts haunt her, she
gives no sign of the fact."

" I would rather be haunted by the ghost of a dead than
of a living man," Eleanor said. " Dead men have at least laid
down the burden of existence, which sometimes " — she looked
again out toward the Sierra — " presses very hard on the living.
But was there no one to hold out a hand to him, this man
dismissed from his service and disgraced ? "

" None that counted, I believe. It's human nature to fight
shy of disgraced men, you know ; and easier to accept the
verdicts of courts than to look behind them. After awhile he
turned up out here, a broken man. He was with us at the
Santa Catalina for a time; but it was clear that he couldn't
stand even our association. He was suffering too much, was
too sore and full of pain. So, with the excuse of prospecting,

IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.,

he one day mounted his mule and rode out into the Sierra.
That was the last heard of him until I met him a few days ago."

There was silence again for several minutes, and then Elea-
nor said: "You know we are going to Durango, over the Si-
erra, in a few days. I am looking forward to the journey with the
greatest delight, for it seems it will take at least a week, and
we shall camp out every night. Now, if we happened to meet
this Mr. Trescott, I should be glad."

Stanfield shook his head. " I hardly think there's the faint-
est chance of it," he said. " It has been months since any of
us saw him last; and from his manner when I met him the
other day, I don't think he will be likely to be met again soon."

"Not with any intention of his own, perhaps; but it might
come to pass, nevertheless. I should like to meet him."

Stanfield smiled at her. " I know that you are given to
helping lame dogs over stiles. But even if you met Trescott,
I really don't see what you could do toward helping him."

"It is difficult," she admitted, "for any one to help another
in this world in which we walk, each so strangely alone. But
you say that nobody has held out a hand to him. I could at
least hold out my hand."

Stanfield looked at the hand of which she spoke — the slen-
der hand at once so delicate and so strong. It occurred to
him that it might lead a man very far.

"Yes"; he agreed, "you could hold out your hand; and
if you did, it would no doubt mean much to the poor devil.
But what would be the end?"

" The end ? " She hesitated an instant. " Only God knows
the end of anything," she said. " But if I meet him, I shall
surely hold out my hand."

She remembered these words a few days later, when the
opportunity to hold out her hand to Philip Trescott came by
one of those chances of life which we call accident, but for
which perhaps a wider and higher vision has another name.

All day she had been riding in the Sierra, amid scenes so
beautiful that she moved through them in a species of ecstasy.
The wild loveliness of this high region seemed, in Wordsworth's
phrase, to haunt her like a passion, and as she climbed im-
mense mountain sides, or passed through glades of sylvan beauty,
where troops of graceful deer were feeding on the rich, lush

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 313

grass, or rode across the great highland levels covered with
noble forests, she had ever about her the aromatic scents of
mighty woods, the murmur of unnumbered leaves softly whis-
pering together, and a sense as if all the romance which the
world has forgotten might have retreated here, and found its
last refuge in the solitude of these great hills.

So it came to pass that she left her father and his party
far behind, and that she was followed only by a single attend-
ant when, in the late afternoon, she emerged from a deep que-
brada, up the steep, rock- strewn side of which her agile little
mule had for an hour been climbing like a cat. Pausing on the
summit for the animal to breathe, she looked out over a wild,
majestic picture of mountains, canons, and cliffs.

" Oh ! " she murmured to herself, " if one could but stay
long enough to take it all in, or spread wings and fly out over
it like a bird! What is it, Alejandro?" she added in Spanish,
turning to the mozo, who had dismounted to examine how the
girths of her saddle had borne the strain of the ascent, and
now stood beside her.

The man — a middle-aged Mexican of intelligent, trustworthy
type — had an expression of perplexity and something like shame
on his face.

" Senorita," he said, " I — I am afraid that I have made — a
mistake in the trail."

"What!" she cried. And then, as his meaning flashed
upon her, " you don't — you can't mean that you have lost your
way ? "

" It is of that I am afraid," he acknowledged. " I thought
I knew the way well, but" — he looked around helplessly — "I
do not remember this place. I must have taken a road which
was not the right one some time ago."

"Good heavens!" The comprehension of what it meant to
be lost in these wilds suddenly rushed upon Miss Bering.
"Why did you go on, when you are not sure of the trail?"
she demanded exasperatedly.

Alejandro threw out his hands with a comprehensive ges-
ture.

" How could I be sure of anything ? " he asked. " There
is so much Sierra, and it is all so much alike."

"But you said you knew the way — !" She paused, con-
scious of the futility of reproaches. "We must go back at

3i4 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.,

once to the last place where you were sure," she declared witk
decision. "But what a pity that you didn't find out that you
were lost before we crossed this terrible quebrada"

With an expression of extreme distaste, Alejandro glanced
down into the dark depths out of which they had just climbed
— the tremendous earth rift which is known as the deepest and
most difficult quebrada in all this part of the Sierra.

"Since I mistook the road, Don Gilberto has no doubt by
this time crossed the quebrada also, senorita," he said, "and
if we are both on the same side, it seems very useless to go
back."

" But what else can we do to regain the right road ? Have
you any idea where our party is likely to be, if they have
crossed ? "

Alejandro again looked round with a vagueness which suf-
ficiently answered this question. Plainly he had so completely
lost his bearings, that he had not the least idea in what di-
rection the party from which they had separated was likely to
be found. Interpreting his silence aright, Eleanor set her lips
firmly and gathered up her reins.

" It is a dreadful prospect to cross this awful canon twice
again," she said, "but evidently there is nothing else to do,
and it must be done at once." She glanced at the sun, so
ominously low in the western sky. "There's not a minute to
lose," she added, and turned her mule's head toward the steep,
perilous trail by which they had climbed upward and must
now go downward.

But before she had succeeded in inducing Bonita to set
her reluctant feet upon it, Alejandro uttered an exclamation
of relief and delight.

" Stop, senorita, stop ! " he cried eagerly. " Some one is
coming !"

It seemed incredible — in the Sierra — but Eleanor wheeled
her willing mule around just as a horseman rode out of the
green forest which clothed the great level summit on which
they were. This rider had all the outward appearance of a
Mexican, but as he advanced nearer, Alejandro uttered an-
other joyful exclamation.

" Don Felipe ! " he cried. " Gracias a Dios ! Como esta Vd.,
stnor?"

The man addressed pulled up and glanced at him keenly.

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 315

Then he smiled. " Oh, is it you, Alejandro ? " he returned.
"How are you? — and how are all at the Santa Catalina ?
What are you doing here ? "

" I am on my way to Durango with the Gerente, sefior,"
Alejandro answered. " He is behind with the conducta, while
I am attending the senorita, his daughter."

"The senorita!" The new-comer started and glanced in
amazement at the figure silhouetted against the sky on the
brink of the quebrada. And his amazement was so far justi-
fied that surely such a figure had never before been seen in the
Sierra. A slender, fair- faced girl, who rode a man's saddle in
the manner of a man, and who in her costume of knicker-
bockers, blouse, and jacket, with hat of soft felt, high buttoned
gaiters, gauntlets, and spurs, looked like some young page
wandered out of an old romaunt, or a Rosalind of to-day
masquerading in a new and far wilder Forest of Ardennes. His
hat came off immediately, showing a clear-cut, sunburned face.

" I beg pardon," he said, " for not recognizing a lady."

" You are pardonable, sefior," Eleanor told him. " I know
that in Mexico it is very unusual to see a woman dressed and
riding as I am; but in the States it has become rather com-
mon, and in the Sierra I find it convenient."

" Alejandro tells me that I have the pleasure of seeing the
daughter of the Gerente of the Santa Catalina," he said. " I
know your father very well, Miss Bering. My name is Tres-
cott."

The next instant he thought he had never seen anything
so charming as the smile with which Eleanor leaned forward
and held out her hand.

"I have heard of you, Mr. Trescott," she said, "and I am
very glad to meet you."

IV.

But if Miss Bering had doubted the gravity of their situa-
tion, she would have been assured of it by Trescott's manner
of receiving the intelligence.

"Good heavens!" he said. "You have lost your way, and
you were going down into the Quebrada Honda again ! Bon't
you know that night would have been on you before you
could possibly have climbed out of it, and then — !"

3i6 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.,

•m

"Then it would have been pretty bad, no doubt," she
agreed, as he paused expressively. " But there didn't seem to
be anything else to do. Alejandro hadn't the faintest idea
where to go, and we couldn't stay here, you know."

" You had better have stayed here than gone down into
that chasm, to lose your way certainly, and possibly your
life—"

She lifted her eyebrows. " But aren't you going down into
it?" she asked.

"Oh, yes"; he answered indifferently, "but you see I am
very familiar with the trail, and I had hope of getting out be-
fore night. That you could never have managed, with your
mule pretty well used up, and such a guide."

" Probably not," she agreed again, " so I am glad a kind
fate sent you in time to prevent our going. That is certainly
better than picking up my bones and poor Bonita's, when you
reached the bottom. As for Alejandro" — she waved her hand
toward that crestfallen mozo — " you needn't have troubled to
pick up his"

"Alejandro is the worst kind of a fraud!" Trescott said,
severely regarding the person under discussion. "What did
you mean by undertaking to act as guide to; the senorita, when
you are as ignorant as a fireside cat of the Sierra?" he in-
quired sternly in Spanish.

" I have been in the Sierra many times, senor," Alejandro
protested with dignity, "and I thought it was plain the trail
to follow — "

"Well, now you find that it isn't plain — now that you have
narrowly escaped subjecting the senorita to great hardship and
possibly danger. As it is, you have brought her so much out
of her way, that she will have to ride hard to reach her father's
camp in time to save Don Gilberto great anxiety and trouble.
Where did he intend to halt to-night?"

" At Las Joyas, senor."

* Then, Miss Dering " — he turned to her again — " we will
waste no more time, but ride straight for Las Joyas."

" We ! " she repeated. " Surely it isn't necessary for you
to go. Can't you just put us on the trail ? "

" In order that Alejandro might promptly lead you off of
it? You see there are no sign-posts in the Sierra. Besides,
there's really no direct trail from here to Las Joyas. You must

i9o8.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 317

trust me to get you there by sense of direction more than any-
thing else."

"I'm only too glad to trust you/' she said with a little sigh
of relief. " I know I ought to be dreadfully concerned that
you are turning out of your way and giving up your time in
this manner; but I can only think with gratitude that you ap-
peared so wonderfully just when you were needed. It was" —
she looked at him with curious gravity — "as if you were sent,
as if we had been riding all day, you and I, to meet at a crit-
ical moment on the brink of the Quebrada Honda."

" I suppose we were," he said as gravely as herself. " At
all events I am glad that I reached here at the critical mo-
ment. And now we had better ride on."

They rode on — Trescott turning directly back upon his way
— and as the trail just here wound like a well-beaten road along
the level of the great ridge on which they found themselves, it
was possible for two to ride abreast, and so riding to talk.

Of what they talked, for a time at least, Trescott afterwards
did not remember; but he remembered that he had from the
first a distinct sense of pleasure in this unsought chance to step
back for a brief space into his old life, to converse once more
with one to whom he could speak on an intellectual equality,
and in whom he recognized the peculiar touch in mind and
manner which only intercourse with the world can give. For
it happened that Eleanor Bering was the first woman of her
order with whom he had spent an hour of voluntary associa-
tion since the dark waters closed over him. The tragedy which
ruined his life had not had the common effect of such tragedies
in making him cynical in his attitude toward women. He never
doubted that the woman who was the cause of this tragedy
belonged to a comparatively small class of her sex ; but while
she had not killed his faith in womanhood, she killed for him
all possibility of pleasure in the society of those who in any
degree recalled herself — that is, in all who bore the stamp of
things conventional and artificial.

But in Eleanor Bering there was nothing of this stamp.
With her, high breeding had reached its finest result — simplic-
ity ; and in her face there was a charm deeper than graceful
features or lovely coloring, a charm which lay in the rare sym-
pathetic quality to which " nothing that is human is strange,"
and in that subtle, indefinable gift of the gods which we call

3i8 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.,

fascination. It had been long since Trescott had seen a coun-
tenance at once so fair and so expressive of those things which
are the finest flowers of civilization; and even while he shrank
from the associations thus awakened, he was conscious of an
attraction which had its source of power deep in that part of
his nature which he owed to civilization, and could not, if he
would, renounce.

As for Eleanor, she on her part had a strange, awed sense
of opportunity given in fulfilment of her desire, together with
a doubt how best to use this opportunity. " If I meet him, I
will surely hold out my hand," she had said ; but in saying it
she had known, as she knew now, that the act of holding out
her hand was but the symbol of deeper spiritual aid to be given,
if circumstances made such giving possible. But how it might
become possible was a hard question to answer. For as they
rode together through the marvelous, leafy way, on this crest
of the world, she recognized that it was not altogether an or-
dinary man with whom fate had dealt so hardly. As she glanced
at him now and again, she saw in the fine, somewhat stern
contours of his face indications of a nature of extreme sensi-
tiveness— one of those natures which feel all things — joy, sor-
row, pain, love, or hate — with an intensity beyond comprehen-
sion to ordinary natures — and although in the gray eyes there
was the look which long-sustained suffering always leaves, there
was no weakness about the thin-lipped, resolute mouth, or the
firm chin. Clearly it would be difficult to get under the shield
of reserve with which such a man would guard his inner life.
"And yet I must — I must! " she said to herself. " This strange
chance wasn't — couldn't have been — given me for nothing."

It seemed as if it had not been, for presently another chance
aided her. Suddenly the plateau on which they were riding
dropped away sheerly and steeply into a deep, green abyss,
where a leaping torrent thundered, and through the stems of
giant trees, which lifted their great crowns of verdure a hun-
dred feet in the air, a wide, glorious prospect was revealed,
stretching away into illimitable distance, and glowing with magi-
cal tints of blue and purple, while from it breathed airs laden
with the freshness of a thousand leagues of virgin forest.

" Is it not divine ?" Eleanor cried, with a note of positive
rapture in her voice, as she drew up her mule. " I never knew
before what it meant to be alive — just simply alive ! One must

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 319

come to the Sierra to learn what it means. In this high, glad
world, existence in itself is a delight. And death seems im-
possible."

Trescott pointed to an object near which they had paused
— a wooden cross without name or inscription of any kind,
erected by the side of the road, with a pile of stones around it.
Such objects are common on all roads in Mexico, and very fre-
quent along these wild trails of the Sierra.

" Death is not impossible," he said, " for some one has died
here."

The girl shivered in all her abounding joy of existence as
ker glance fell on the rude memento mori. Standing there with
the wonderful beauty, the glad life of nature around it, the
deed which it marked seemed a thousandfold more tragic and
pitiable than if it had occurred among the haunts of men.

"But that is the sign of a violent death," she protested,
"and of course one may die violently anywhere.11 As she
spoke she gazed, with eyes out of which the rapture had van-
ished, at the cross. "Yet how sad to die here, where every-
thing is so beautiful." She looked up at the leafy boughs and
jewel-like heaven above, and then around at the green vistas
of the forest, and out over the azure world afar. " To leave
it all — in a moment — the beauty — the sunlight — how terrible ! "
she said. " How sorry I am for the poor man, whoever he
may have been, who died in this spot, so suddenly, so aw-
fully ! "

" Don't be sorry for him," said Trescott quietly. " You
can't tell what burden he laid down, nor how glad he may
have been to close his eyes even to the beauty of the sunlight,
when the bullet or the knife found him here."

Something in his voice made her glance at him quickly.

" Even if he carried a burden — as who does not ? — and even
if he were glad to lay it down," she said, " I should be sorry
for him."

" Because the Sierra is so beautiful ? "

"No; but because, even for the unhappy, life holds many
chances and death has none."

Trescott shook his head.

" There are men for whom life holds no chances," he said.
"And for such a quick call — a death in the sunlight — and a
cross by the wayside is no ill fate."

320 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.,

It was plain that he spoke without any thought of effect,
and the words had a poignant note of pathos to the ear of the
girl, even while her heart leaped as she recognized her moment
of opportunity.

" I do not believe that there are men for whom life holds
no chances," she said, as they rode on.

" Do you not ? " He looked at her with a slight smile.
''That is quite natural. It would be strange if you were able
to believe it."

" You mean it would be strange if I knew what hopeless-
ness and — pain are ? "

"Yes"; he answered, "I think it would be strange, for
neither hopelessness or pain can have touched your life."

"Do I look so shallow?" she asked. "For it surely would
be a very shallow nature which could live in the world to my
age without learning what hopelessness and pain are."

" What we learn by observation, and what we learn by
personal experience are very different things," he told her.

"I suppose so," she admitted, "and yet through sympathy
one can realize many things." She paused a moment, and her
voice took a tone of very disarming gentleness as she went on.
"For instance," she said, "during these days when I have been
journeying in the Sierra I have not only felt how beautiful it
is, how full of a divine charm of freshness, remoteness, and
repose, but I have also imagined how it might enthrall one
who felt this charm very deeply, until plunging into its wild,
green recesses, he might forget — everything."

The man riding beside her gave her a sudden glance.

" You have imagined truly," he said. " I am one whom
the Sierra has enthralled, and who in its depths have forgotten
— everything."

"Yet," she said quickly — for surely the guard was down
now, for a moment at least — " I have felt much besides this
enthralling charm. It seems to me that they express many
things, these mountains which lift their solemn heads so nobly
to the sky. There is inspiration in them, as well as repose.
They fill one with great thoughts — thoughts which are like
arms to a soldier."

"If one has withdrawn from the fight, one has no need of
arms."

"Has one ever a right to withdraw from the fight?"

1908.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 321

" I think that right is granted to a man who has been de-
feated and wounded unto death."

" No man is wounded unto death while life remains. I
should bid him take up his arms and enter the battle again."

"You are a stern oracle," the man said. "I might convince
you that there are circumstances when desertion is allowable
if — if it were worth while." Then glancing around, as at a
face familiar and beloved, "The Sierra has given me peace,"
he said. " The Sierra contents me."

"Peace!" she echoed. "But are we here to seek only
peace ? And can he find it who seeks it before he has won it
— where alone it can be truly won — in the heat and dust of
the conflict ? You say that I am a stern oracle ; but your own
conscience must tell you that the Sierra is no place for such a
man as you."

" Such a man as I ! " he echoed in a tone of bitter self-
scorn. " If you knew — "

" It is not necessary that I should know what has made you
seek the Sierra," she interrupted quickly. "Whatever the cause,
it remains true that there is no field here for your intellect,
your education, or your talents. And there is a parable — I'm
sure you haven't forgotten it — which tells us that he was ac-
counted an unworthy servant who buried his Lord's gift. Now "
— she looked at him with a smile so sweet and winning that
he felt it like sunshine in the depths of his being — " you must
forgive me for venturing to preach to you in this manner. My
excuse is that probably you don't often see any one who can
preach to you at all."

" For the interest which has prompted you to preach I am
very grateful," he answered in a low tone.

After this there was silence for several minutes, until Tres-
cott suddenly reined up his horse as he turned toward her.

"We've some very rough ground to get over now," he said,
" so I must ask you to follow me as closely as possible, while
Alejandro will follow you, and keep a sharp eye on your mule.
If she should slip—"

"Bonita never slips," Bonita's mistress proudly assured him,
"and you can take us over no rougher ground than we have
already been over to-day. Lead on. I can ride wherever you
can."

She was as good as her word, and although he looked

YOU LXXXYIII.— 21

IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Dec.

back anxiously now and then, he always found the agile, plucky
little mule following closely in his steps, and her mistress softly
encouraging her with voice and hand. It was indeed a rough
trail, if trail at all, over which they now rode in single file,
crashing down steep declivities, climbing others as steep, pass-
ing over, under, and around precipitous rocks, and skirting fall-
ing torrents which sent clouds of spray like incense toward
heaven. It was a little wilder than any face which the Sierra
had showed Miss Bering before; and although she felt its fas-
cination thrilling her like a mighty diapason of magnificent
music, she was also conscious, as twilight began to fall, of a
sense of apprehension. For surely night in this great wilder-
ness might hold a note of terror, and of danger also, which
would render it impossible to continue on their way. When
Trescott glanced around the next time, she spoke.

" Have you any hope," she asked, " of reaching Las Joyas
before it is too dark to travel ? "

"That is why I am urging the pace so mercilessly, and spar-
ing you no roughness of the way," he answered. " We must
reach it, and unless I am mistaken in my bearings, we are
nearly there. One more hard climb, and we shall gain the
ridge on which you should have emerged from the Quebrada
Honda."

It was a terribly hard climb — the harder because there was
so little light remaining by which to choose the way — but when
they gained the summit, breathless and almost exhausted, they
had not ridden very far along its level way when Trescott ut-
tered on exclamation of intense relief.

"We're ail right, now, Miss Bering," he said. "Yonder is
your camp-fire."

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

" WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?"

BY WILLIAM J. KERBY, PH.D.
III.

[HE situation represented in the parable of the
Good Samaritan shows a single person in need
of mercy and one only, of a number, showing it.
The service required was direct and personal;
that given was immediate and prompt. While
this condition recurs frequently enough in everyday life, the
distinctive modern character of relief work is that we deal not
with individuals exclusively, but also with social forces; not
with one, but with a multitude. Although poverty and distress
are concrete in the individual, still one is compelled to look for
larger social forces and conditions which affect the weak poor,
and is constrained to take a social point of view, to look at
social action tor remedy and to emphasize, for the time be-
ing, the social rather than the individual element in the causes
of poverty. Much of the misunderstanding in charity work is
due to failure to take a common view of this fundamental fact.
In preceding articles the attention of the reader was di-
rected to some of the general social features of poverty and to
processes which act on the poor with unmistakable effect. It
remains now to look into what may be called the atmosphere
of poverty. If it is the atmosphere which makes a school, as
we Catholics rightly claim, and if the atmosphere in any social
group is the strongest factor in the life of its members, it would
seem that the atmosphere of poverty is an important factor in
the life of the poor. To understand the poor, and to work
with success among them, we must know something about the
atmosphere in which they live.

It is not easy to convey to the imagination an exact pic-
ture of what is meant by poverty and the poor. Emerson says
that the poor are they who would be rich. It might be said
with more truth that the poor are they who are indifferent to
their poverty. At any rate, relief work among the poor would

324 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR?" [Dec.,

•

be infinitely lightened if they could be brought to desire earn-
estly to be rich. For with such a desire might come ambition,
industry, and foresight, traits which the real poor often lack.
It is not difficult to understand Goldsmith when he says in
writing to his brother : " Frugality and even avarice in the
lower orders of mankind are true ambition. These offer the
only ladder for the poor to rise to preferment." Even this
quasi virtue is rarely found among the very poor, not so much
because of willfulness on their part as because of the social
forces which hinder the development on which thrift and fore-
sight depend.

For present purposes we may distinguish between the ef-
ficient and the inefficient poor. In the first class are to be
placed all who show some ambition and energy, who respond
to assistance when given, and resist bravely the circumstances
which oppress them. Such may occasionally require aid in
times of idleness or illness, but one finds among them always
not a few progressive traits of sterling character. Problems of
relief are very simple among the poor of this kind. They co-
operate intelligently with those who aid them ; the relief asked
is what is really needed and they are reliable in their repre-
sentations.

By the term inefficient poor, we may understand those who
are inert and helpless ; those who add moral guilt to economic
misfortune and carelessly reckon on the generous impulses of
charitable persons for necessaries and even comforts of life.
Here we find those of dull moral sense, and of inferior mental
equipment, who are without ambition, energy, or outlook. This
is the arctic zone in the social world where no friendly warmth
of a genial sun stirs latent manhood into vigorous growth. The
atmosphere which envelops this class of the poor is a problem
of distressing complexity for the neighbor who desires to show
mercy intelligently.

Ovid says that a girl is the least part of the girl herself. One
may say that these poor are the least part of the poor them-
selves. It will, of course, do the poor no good to diminish their
sense of responsibility for their condition. The main hope for
them lies in their belief that they can rise and that it depends on
themselves to do so. To teach them that they are victims of so-
cial forces and in no way themselves accountable, as, for instance,
is done so much in the propaganda of Socialism, could result

1908.] " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR f " 325

only in moral and material disaster. The sense of responsibil-
ity, eagerness to do something and to be something, definite
ambition must be awakened- or no reconstruction of character
and life may be expected. Relief is not redemption, and pov-
erty is a tragedy when the poor feel no recoil against the con-
ditions which it imposes.

While it would be harmful to the poor to deprive them of
their sense of responsibility for their condition, it is of great-
est importance to teach the strong classes in society that the
poor are, to a marked degree, victims of social institutions;
that they are helpless in much of their poverty, and that social
action by strong classes, social action by and through institu-
tions, is absolutely necessary. The assumption is widely be-
lieved that the poor are to blame for their poverty. No im-
pulse toward generous relief work will come to a heart when
this conviction concerning the poor is felt. The strong will be
enlisted in service of the poor only when they realize the extent
to which these are victims of forces and processes that are
mightier than the individual.

II.

Turning now to observe the atmosphere of poverty, we find,
first of all, the basic fact that these members of society whom
we have in mind are classified as '* The Poor." They are apart as
truly as the " Four Hundred " are apart. They tend to develop a
class consciousness, to take on a tone, to construct a moral and so-
cial code, and to adjust themselves systematically to them. The
poor are written about, inspected, studied, photographed, posed
as a kind of pathetically interesting class not quite like other
people. A mental self-appreciation appears which leads them
to endeavor to maintain the style which is called for by their
condition or class. On one occasion a number of gentlemen
went to furnish entertainment to an institution, where the chil-
dren of the poor were assembled. A girl of ten was asked if
she did not think it very kind in them to have done this. She
answered : " Naw ; they didn't want to sing f'r us. They just
come to see how we look and act. We're the poor." No doubt
there is a psychology of the poor as there is of the rich. If
the latter at times cultivate a way of speech and an attitude,
it is not surprising that children of the poor sometimes refuse
to speak correctly because it would be "tony," preferring the
forms of speech current in the traditions of their class. It seems

326 " WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR ? " [Dec.,

evident, on the whole, that the class consciousness of the poor is
not without its influence in their lives.

One of the most conspicuous features in the atmosphere of
poverty, possibly the most far reaching in its reaction on the
poor, is the lack of a sense for the future. Scarcely a hope of
achievement or a distant prospect of happiness lights a human
face in those dark walks of life. Existence is in the dull dead
present. There are no problems for them except the ever acute
problems of to-day's food, to-day's clothing, the next month's
rent, to-day's illness. Johnson might have written to-day what
he wrote in the days of The Rambler: "Among the lower
classes of mankind there will be found very little desire for
any other knowledge than what may contribute immediately to
the relief of some pressing uneasiness or the attainment of some
near advantage." Having no sense for the future, the poor lack
all of the traits of character that are derived from the domi-
nation of this sense in life.

The Danes say: " We live forwards and think backwards."
It is largely true. Foresight, self-discipline, enterprise, ambi-
tion, industry, some desire for accumulation — all traits which
are prominent in strong characters — result usually frcm vivid
realization of future needs, future prospects and opportunities.
Only he in whom future dominates over present is progressive
and foresighted. It is the hope of " being something and doing
something " which develops men. Take away from Americans all
that the sense for future means and their institutions would perish.

Now the atmosphere of poverty lacks this feeling for future,
lacks all that that means in development of character and di-
rection of energy. Little sense for the future, lack of motive
to consider the future, lack of outlook against the forbidding
circumstances in which they live, an educated conviction of
helplessness, and a belief in the uselessness of effort, combine
in the appalling enervation which we so often find among the
very poor. If children in the best of homes, trained in the
best of schools, living in an atmosphere charged up to the last
degree with the stimulating elements of ambition, hope, great
prospects, and all but compelling motives to greatest efforts, if
they too often fail to respond and to bring forth fruits worthy
of their opportunity, shall we wonder that among the very poor,
where home life is disorganized, social standards are so low,
and the social atmosphere is so enervating, many succumb com-
pletely and perpetuate the disheartening history of poverty and

•?

1908.] " WHO Is MY NEIGHBOR fy 327

distress. No individual, no class, no people, can rise to full stat-
ure and develop power unless inspiration be drawn largely from
ambition, hope, purpose. To the very poor these are unknown
or, as far as known, misunderstood.

Logically resulting from the condition described, there is
found in the atmosphere of poverty, more or less disregard for
social "standing." In the lives of the very poor, who are in the
main held in mind, standing is not a marked element. Morality in
many of us is largely a response in conduct to the expectations
and estimates of our friends. The instinct is deep in us to en-
deavor to be what we are supposed to be. Reputation is prac-
tically the endorsement of our friends, and we aim to bring
character up to it. The desire to protect standing already
acquired, effort to rise to higher standing, respect for the social
sanctions, for achievement, morality, and merit, found among the
stronger classes, are of the greatest importance in the develop-
ment of character and in the progress of social classes.

Men and women fight with rugged tenacity to maintain
standing, and although often poor judgment of values is shown
in the struggle, it remains a source of strength and uplift to
those who wage it. Lives that are devoid of the sense of
standing and indifferent to the public opinion which usually acts
through it, are necessarily weakened. And this is, to a great
extent, the case among the very poor. Their outlook on life
shows them so little to hope for, that they find no motive
which rouses them. Their place in the social hierarchy is so
low, that they feel outclassed. Sometimes too much is expected
from them; sometimes too little is looked for. Either mistake
is followed by a reaction among the poor, which holds them in
their quiet indifference to public opinion and social standing.
Their character, therefore, frequently lacks the traits which
we owe to the power that social standing has over us. Not
many among them feel as did one who rose from abject pov-
erty to respectable standing in the law. He once remarked:
"I was born so low that I could only look up." Many of
the poor are born so low, so to speak, that they cannot be
brought to look up. Careless housekeeping, untidy habits in
clothes, indifference to the proprieties, disregard for many of
the forms which make life gentle and converse pleasant, are
found among the poor, because they lack the motive which
develops these things in the stronger classes. The poor possess
so little that they have no fear of losing anything; they are

328 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR f " [Dec,,

so low in the social scale that there is but little from which
to recoil. They do fear a nameless grave ; they will plan and
save to have decent burial, even if the effort means reduction
in the scant food supply that they have. But the ordinary
fears, hopes, and efforts which characterize stronger classes are
largely missing among them.

Another feature in the atmosphere of poverty is the absence
of the competitive spirit, with lack of the qualities of charac-
ter usually to be expected from it. The inefficient poor are
wreckage in the social process, shaped into identical form by
the merciless forces which act upon them. Common misery, com-
mon hopelessness, common understanding of life and experience
in it, develop a sort of communistic spirit among them, leaving
them indifferent to the prizes of life. Our strong classes, in
the defence that they make against Socialism, claim that the
competitive struggle is the savior of the race and the main in-
spiration in individual character. The chronic indifference of
the poor to advancement hinders the marked development of
the spirit of rivalry and of the vigorous traits which usually
result from it. The low physical condition of large numbers
among them, due to imperfect nutrition and sanitation and to
the generally depressing circumstances in which they live, is,
of course, an important factor in their general apathy.

We must deal with the general fact that the poor live in
the atmosphere of poverty, and that it can enervate them and
does so, much as the atmosphere in which the strong live stim-
ulates and strengthens them. In the average conditions of life,
strong and weak are distributed unevenly and connected by re-
lationship or by social ties of varying degrees of strength. It
was pointed out in a preceding article that many of these social
bonds are losing their strength, with the result that the strong
and the weak tend more and more toward separation. Not many
nowadays feel as the Vicar of Wakefield felt, who welcomed
cousins to the fortieth degree at his table, including among them
"the blind, the maimed, and the halt." "As they were of the
same flesh and blood, they should sit at the same table." If so-
ciety compels the weak poor to associate almost exclusively with
their own kind ; if traditions, point of view, inter-marriage, com-
panionship, are found among them ; it is not to be wondered
at if some commence to believe that " the poor " do constitute

1908.] " WHO Is MY NEIGHBOR?" 329

a separate natural order of creatures. Poverty and its impli-
cations tend to produce types ; and when any one social class
gives us more or less fixed types, belief that they are natural
and not merely artificial social products, easily results.

It is the belief of many experienced social workers that
the poor ought to be treated like any other class, assuming
that they are normal, everyday men and women and children.
If, however, there is a psychology of poverty, if there is an
atmosphere in the circles of the poor which acts on individuals
and tends to shape them, all of this, it would seem, should be
taken into account. Dickens, himself no dull observer of life,
says in Barnaby Rudge : " It is the unhappy lot of thoroughly
weak men that their very sympathies, affections, confidences —
all the qualities which in better constituted minds are virtues
— dwindle into foibles or turn into downright vices." In view
of this it was not surprising recently to hear an investigator
say that in the South child labor is a very good thing, although
on the whole it is to be deplored. There it offers the only es-
cape possible from the apathy and the deadening social influ-
ences in which certain children are reared. Whatever the qual-
ifications under which one might accept the statement, there is
a germ of truth in its general thought. As men and women
are above or below the line of social efficiency they respond
differently to the same influences, much as numerator and de-
nominator in a fraction respond inversely to the same treatment.
It is undoubtedly erroneous to think of the poor as a natural
order in society. But they will not be understood unless seen
in their atmosphere and class. The work of relief is, therefore,
social as well as individual and the strong in giving relief must
look at not only the individual, but as well at the process that
operated, the circumstances and the limitations, both individual
and social, under which the poor must live and the strong
must come to their relief.

From the standpoint of the strong who give relief, a so-
cial point of view is necessary. Efficiency, wisdom, economy,
are of primary importance. They are secured only by organ-
ized effort. Eliminating the exceptional cases for which pro-
vision must always be made, the conclusion seems warranted
that charity work should be conducted by institutions, organi-
zation, system, and co-operation. These features of the work
will be described in a concluding study.

WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS.

BY H. E. P.

VIII.

THE PENANCE OF RICHARD LUFF.

|HE Roman camp on Mendip lifts you high above
the world. The hedges round the fields below
look like lines on a map — a church dotted here
and there, is no bigger than a toy. Wide spread-
ing on every side, as far as the eye can reach,
the endless green fields stretch out, till the mountains in the
distance stop them rambling any further. A village now and
then, or a town, is such a speck in the landscape that it is
lost upon the great green lawn, and even whole woods of
stately trees are but dark patches on the velvet.

Some five miles away, and straight before me as I lie upon
the grassy slope that was once a well-trimmed rampart, stands an
extinguisher shaped hill that rises suddenly from the green bed
of meadow land and ends in a shaft or tower that points heaven-
wards. It is a remarkable hill and the eye is sure to light on
it, directly the vantage ground on the top of the camp is gained
and you turn to see the view. The steepness and suddenness
with which this curious excrescence raises itself above the plain
is totally unlike anything in the miles and miles of country
that stretch out before you.

Wherever a hill is necessary, it starts gently as a rule.
The West-Country coombs or valleys are sudden enough.
They will begin at your very feet without a moment's notice
for apparently no reason at all. The earth seems to start with
a dimple, which in a moment widens to a smile, and directly
afterwards is a wide stretching laugh from lip to lip. But the
West is slower with her hills. Often there are two or three
starts. A valley and a hill beyond— then another valley and
again a hill rising higher on the other side. Then beyond this
is the real hill that was being aimed at all the time, towering

1908.] WEST^ COUNTRY IDYLLS 331

verdant to its top in curves that breathe of peace, and tell that
it was no volcanic pang that gave it birth.

Glastonbury Tor, which lies out there before me, is an ex-
ception. Long ages ago the Severn Sea swept round its base,
and then it seemed an island like the other islands formed by
the Mendip hills, as must have been this very ground on which
I lie. Of all the hills in the West- Country it has been the one
to witness the strangest, most stirring, the dreadest scenes, as
the ages have rolled by.

Close to its foot the day-dawn of Christianity broke over
our land when Joseph of Arimathea made his weary pilgrimage
to Glastonbury. It hung as a great beacon or sign in the
heavens above that wondrous abbey, through countless centu-
ries, guiding the faithful of all lands to the " Second Rome " —
to the treasures clustered beneath its shelter. And, oh ! the
sadness of it ! — when that abbey fell, it bared its breast and
made itself an altar on which the last abbot of that splendid
house was slain. There it stands to-day — lonely, desolate,
crowned with a ruined sanctuary — a solitary mourner weeping
its mist clouds over the desecrated abbey at its feet.

But I have not come here on this bright morning to tell
the tale of that far away hill, but to see the new awakened
life of spring in one glorious vision all at once. The bursting
tree buds, the gilding of the grass, the love song of the birds,
the joy of the new-born insects when they first feel the sun —
all this you get from this Mendip hilltop; not in detail, not
in a snatch of the blackbird's song, not in this flower, nor in
that insect — but all of it all at once, with a fullness and a rush
and a sense of the overwhelming prodigality of nature that
sweeps you off your feet, caught as you seem to be in a wave
of the Infinitude of God. That is why I have come to this
mountain top to-day, why I lie full stretch in the sunlight on
the outer rampart of the old Roman camp.

The farmer has done much to spoil things. Over there he
has made a great gap through the ancient earth-wall that his
cattle may pass from place to place and that his hay cart may
carry the spoils in and out with safety. Through this cutting
I get a somewhat wider view, particularly of the country nearer
under me. Quite in the distance I see a white winding road
with a tender green hedge on either side, and it is framed in
the cutting through which I see it. It is only a simple coun-

332 WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS [Dec.,

try lane/without a feature of any kind to attract attention, but
the unexpected sight of it awakes a train of memory.

It was there, in that lane — whether in the exact part which
I can see, I know not — that the tragedy of Richard Luff's dis-
appearance was enacted. I told the story in the account of
"The Village School.*' He was the schoolmistress* husband and
he had started out with his pony and trap to take his farm
produce to Coleford, as he told his wife in the morning when
he left. The cart had come back empty on the dark winter
afternoon, and it wasn't until the old pony had stood half an
hour in the yard, at the back of the house, that Mrs. Luff dis-
covered that it had come without a driver. From that day for-
ward she never heard anything more of her husband, and for
months his disappearance was the topic of conversation in all
the villages around. Fifty years ago, when the affair happened,
there were many disused coal-pit shafts, open and unprotected
about these parts, and persons confidently affirmed that Richard
Luff had been set upon on his homeward journey, robbed, and
thrown down one of these terrible wells, which would tell no
tale.

Luff had come to our village as a tiny child, with the woman
he always called his mother. As he grew up, he became a
well-mannered, well-spoken boy, and by the time he was thir-
teen, he was big enough to be put into a suit of " buttons "
and to be employed by the great family at the Park. In a few
years more he was second footman, and then, hearing of a good
place near Durham, he soon rose higher, and would have been
butler, if his youthfulness had not stood in his way. Then
Richard Luff made a mistake.

An attachment had sprung up between him and one of the
other servants, and although she was only twenty and he but
a couple of years older, he married her. The fact was, the girl's
father had just died — her mother had been dead some years —
and he had left the little country inn that he possessed to his
daughter. He knew of her engagement to Richard, and thor-
oughly approved of the young man, whom he regarded as a
good, steady fellow, and during his last illness expressed a wish
that they should marry as soon as possible, and carry on the
inn. Every one who knew Richard congratulated him on his
good fortune, and his new life began happily enough. Within
a year or two, however, the husband noticed a change that

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 333

filled him with uneasiness. His wife was taking more to drink
than was good for her, and the habit as usual was growing.
Richard talked to her, persuaded her, argued with her, grew
angry with her, quarreled with her. The life that had been so
happy, slowly became intolerable, and as the drink habit grew,
his wife neglected the home more and more, and comfortless
days and turbulent nights drove Richard Luff nearly out of his
mind.

About this time the railway line began to be made through
the village. It changed the face of things. Besides increasing
Luff's business tenfold, it filled the place with a hoard of
navvies and engineers, and every room in the village was let.
One of the engineers came to lodge at the inn. Before a month
had passed, Richard Luff had seen enough to make him take
desperate steps. He gathered a little ready cash together, wrote
a short note to his wife, telling her he was going away for
good, and would never see her again, slipt out of the house in
the early morning, and once more made his way southwards.

All that the villagers here had ever known about Richard
Luff after he left his first place at the Park was that he had
gone into a great family in the north of England arid had im-
proved his position. Of his marriage they knew nothing. His
mother, as he called her, had died before he had gone north-
wards, and letters were not written when Richard was a youth
with the ease with which they are to-day. So when he came
back to his old village he came as a stranger.

One of the methods by which Luff had added to his in-
come while he kept the inn, was by starting a small bread bus-
iness. The business had been a success, and the young man
acquired some skill in his trade. The first thing therefore that
he did, on returning to his native village, was to look out for
a place where he might begin baking again. It was not long
before his enterprise discovered the oven and big room that
lay across the yard at the back of the old schoolhouse. Miss
Moon, who had recently begun to keep the school, was only
too ready to let the premises, as it helped to reduce her heavy
rent, and so within a fortnight of Richard's return, he had be-
gun his baker's business once more. The nearness of the bake-
house to the schoolhouse, led to developments. Miss Moon found
the services of the obliging young baker more and more neces-
sary on every emergency. Indeed, the emergencies seemed to

334 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Dec.,

multiply at a most curious rate. The kitchen blind- roller had
tumbled down, or the old clock had stopped, or a broody hen
wanted "sitting." No one could be found to get out the pota-
toes, and the weather was going to change, and would Mr. Luff
get them up at once ? Then, when they were out of ground,
they had to be carried into the house — right into the kitchen
where Miss Moon sat when school was over, and into the room
beyond. The schoolmistress helped — she felt it was quite safe,
for she was just ten years older than Richard, and her profes-
sion gave her an official position which carried with it privi-
leges. When the potatoes were safely housed, Mr. Luff looked
so hot and tired that Miss Moon felt certain he would have
some cider. Then came the delicate question of remuneration.
Richard blushed and declared he didn't want anything at all —
the exercise was good for him after he had been in the hot
bakehouse so many hours. With a playful smile Miss Moon
said that this could not be allowed, and if he wouldn't take
any recompence, now that it was so late, would he stay to
supper ? Richard stayed. The supper was a more comfortable
one than he would have had in his lodgings, and he thought
Miss Moon a kind and sensible sort of woman. Still the emer-
gencies multiplied. Richard was so handy ; Richard was so
clever; Richard was so near; and — Miss Moon was fast getting
past a marriageable age. It ended as might have been ex-
pected, for, in spite of her official position, the schoolmistress
made violent love to the young baker on every possible occa-
sion.

Within six months of his coming back to his West-Country
home, Richard Luff had married Suzannah Moon, and a very
happy marriage it proved to be. He kept the secret of the
first Mrs. Luft locked in his breast, and from the day he left
her to that December afternoon, two and forty years after-
wards, he never heard of or saw his wife again.

The piece of road that first caught my eye through the
cleft in the old earthworks is steep, and it was at a steep part
of his journey that Pvichard Luff, to ease the old pony, was
walking by her side, as she dragged the cart up the lane. A
gig with a fast-trotting horse overtook him. It was driven by
a stout, coarse faced woman rather showily dressed. It passed
him. Then the driver pulled up short, and puttirg her hand
on the cushion beside her, she turned three-quarters of the

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 335

way round, and said in a loud, harsh voice: " An' your name's
Richard Luff, isn't it ? "

" It be, mum," he answered respectfully, " but I don't know
yourn." He was alongside of the gig now and had stopped
his pony.

" Don't know mine," she answered in a quiet, low tone, as
if she were imitating something in the past, and she watched
to see the effect it would have on the man in the road.

" God in heaven have mercy on me," he cried in a tone of
anguish that came from the depth of his heart. " Be that you,
•Liza?"

"Yes it be, and I'm come to look for thee, Richard Luff,
for thou must come back again — thou hast had holiday enough."

Richard clutched at the shaft of his cart, for he felt his
legs giving way under him. The shock was terrible. " But I
can't come back, 'Liza, I be — "

" No you bain't " ; she said, interrupting him, " and you
knows that as well as I do ; and if I tells, you knows what
you'll get. Now, just do what I bid thee."

She bade him transfer the parcels to the gig, and take all
else out of the little cart. Then he hung the reins safely on
the lamp, and started the pony for home. Next he took his
seat beside his wife, and asking which was the shortest way to
Bath, she turned the horse round and trotted at a great pace
till they came to the Fosse- way. In a couple of hours they
had reached Bath. There they rested for the night and next
morning pushed on again a stage northwards.

What had happened was this. The man who had lodged
with Mrs. Luff from the time Richard had left, had died a
short time before. He had so managed the house — and Mrs.
Luff — that he had made the place pay, and at his decease the
woman found herself possessed of a few pounds, and a house
that, when sold, would bring in a nice little sum.

A few months previously Mrs. Luff had had unexpected
tidings of her husband. She said there was fate in it, be-
cause of the strangeness of the coincidence. When the rail-
way line was first made the coming of the navvies was the
beginning of the trouble. Now that the increased traffic re-
quired the line to be doubled, once more an army of nav-
vies descended on the village. Large companies gathered at
the inn night by night where they spent a good proportion of

336 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Dec.,

their hardly- earned wages. The usual low- class chaff and con-
versation went round, sometimes good-humoredly, sometimes

not.

"Here, Mrs.," shouted one of the company, "here's a bloke
as says you taught him readin' and writin* ; he'd like to shake
hands with you."

"I didn't say no such thing, mum," exclaimed a great burly
fellow with a broad Somerset accent. " I said as how the 'oman
as tart [taught] I, was named same as you be. That's arl I
said."

"And where's the person living that's got my name ? " asked
the landlady with some degree of interest.

" Down the country wur I come from," answered Albert
Maggs, the youth appealed to, " she kep' the village school,
and she tart I.

" Did she teach all alone ? " asked Mrs. Luff.

"Yes, all by hersel'; but when we chaps wur up to our
games, or actin' arf, she'd go and holler for her husband,
Richard Luff, to come and hit we, for she wur afraid to do it
hersel'."

" And could he keep you in order ? "

" Sart a' arder. He wur a nice man, wur Richard Luff, an1
he sol' bread an' kep' pigs, an' had a cow or two, so he art
to ha' made some money be this, for he must be getting on
now."

When turning-out time came, Mrs. Luff told Albert Maggs
quietly that she wanted to have a talk with him some day,
and the youth was flattered.

Mrs. Luff learnt all about her husband's doings, his position,
and his probable wealth. She was a woman with a keen bus-
iness instinct, which had not been altogether blurred by her
failing. Indeed, of late years, Eliza Luff had not given way
nearly so much as formerly. The strong hand of her partner,
and the fear in which she stood of him, kept her temperate
for weeks together, but the inevitable wild outbreaks would
come at last. In the lulls between the storms Mrs. Luff's
undoubted powers of management and resource would show
themselves, only to be misused, when the breakdown came, in
circumventing her guardian's efforts to keep her from the
drink.

Things were in this position when the man died. Mrs.

i9o8.J WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS 337

Luff, in one of her saner moments, exercised her better judg-
ment by selling the inn, thus removing herself farther from
temptation. Her next step was to find Richard Luff. Her
object in so doing was, first to add his fortune to her own, if
possible, and secondly to secure some one who would exercise
a restraining power at those times when the drinking fits were
on. Eliza Luff, therefore, traveled from the north to Frome,
partly by train and partly by coach. At Frome she bought a
horse and gig, for it was part of her plan to kidnap her hus-
band. She rightly saw that if there was any fuss in getting
him to come back to her again, the story might get abroad
and Richard would be tried for bigamy and she would lose him
altogether. Before she left the north she shrewdly gave out
that, having sold the inn and bought a house, she was going
to see an old friend who had made her an offer of marriage.
Mrs. Luff stayed a fortnight in London on her way down, and
when she eventually got home again, she had been absent
more than a month, which was quite long enough to account
for her returning with a husband. One person, and one only,
knew the true story, and that was Albert Maggs. As soon as
Richard Luff arrived, the youth sought him out, told the old
man who he was, and promised faithfully no word of his should
ever betray him — a promise he faithfully kept.

Then Richard Luff's penance began. In the bitterness of
his heart he compared Suzannah Moon with his wife. If the
former was rather masterful at times, and for the sake of a
quiet life he gave way to her, yet she was a good, upright
woman, and he had loved her dearly. The real Mrs. Luff was a
very different person. Coarse in mind and body, she held her
husband in no respect, for she felt that she possessed a secret
which, if revealed, would prove his ruin. She was disappointed
too about Richard's supposed wealth. She found that there
were very few pounds laid by, and that most of what he had
consisted of his farm stock which, of course, she couldn't get
at. Then, too, the habit of despising him and making little
of him on all occasions — before other men whenever she could
— recoiled upon herself. The dim idea that she originally had,
that by getting Richard back she would have some one at
hand who would check her when the drinking fits were on, re-
mained. So little, however, did she respect her husband when
she was in her senses, that when she began to indulge in her

VOL. LXXXVIII.— -23

338 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Dec.,

old failing, she merely made game of him if he tried to exer-
cise any control.

Freed from the strong hand that held her before Richard's
return, Mrs. Luff's outbreaks of intemperance became "more and
more frequent. What her poor husband suffered in his gentle,
silent way, no one ever knew, but the neighbors pitied the old
man when his spouse, held up between some of her friends
and accompanied by a string of jeering children, was pushed
in at the cottage door, helpless and blaspheming.

So Richard Luff's new life dragged on month after month,
while the money that had been saved, melted quickly. Before
their financial needs became desperate, Richard suggested to
his wife, at a moment when she was rational, that the remain-
ing cash should be put in the bank in his name, and that he
should let her have a little from time to time. To this she
agreed, and as the money supply was cut off, she managed for
a week or two to keep sober. Then the old enemy returned
with new strength gotten from the rest. As there was now
no money with which to purchase the drink, she began to pawn
the furniture. Bit by bit their belongings went, and the home
became more and more miserable. Richard had taken on him-
self most of the household management; and he often scrubbed
and cooked and washed, while his wife sat helpless in a chair.

It is no use following the story. I have pieced it together
from the recollections of the old navvy who, for two years,
lodged near the Luff's, after Richard had rejoined his wife.

" You see, Father," Albert Maggs said to me one day, " I
suppose I didn't understand rightly all the old man had to put
up with. I wur but a young chap mysel', and it's a long
whiles ago now — fifty years or more — and I forgets most o' what
that there 'oman did. I told you about the rabbit last time
you asked me, didn't I ? No ? Ah, well, that's about as good
as anything she ever done, for you mind she wur a sharp
'oman, even in drink, onless she'd had too much."

"Bat what about the rabbit?"

" It was this way, Father. One Saturday Richard Luff
brings she in a rabbit for Sunday's dinner. She had been sober
arl the week, so he thought he could leave her to do 'un all
right. But she was jest beginning one of her bouts, I suppose,
an' she wanted money for the drink. Mrs Luff waits till Rich-
ard be garn arf somewheres, and then she pops arf too, and

1908.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 339

takes thic rabbit to a neighbor and sells 'un for sixpence, 'cause
she says as how they've got two and she don't want thic 'un.
She comes in home, and begins to consider what she be gwoin1
to say to Richard. While she wur wonderin' nex' door cat
looks in at the winder, and she collers 'un, and does 'un in
[kills it], and makes 'un up like stewed rabbit, ingions an' arl.
She gi'ed 'un Richard for his Sunday's dinner, an' Richard he
never know'd nothing about it at arl — no, nor never wouldn't
neither if Mrs. Luff hadn't bin foolish. She kep' herself straight
till she seed the job through, and then she had one of her
drinkin' fits, an' a main bad 'un it was, too. After a few days,
when there was no more cash, for the old man tried to starve
her out of the beer, and kep' her shart, she tries to sell the
rabbit's skin. That there skin 'uld fetch a penny, and a penny
'uld get her summat more to pour down her neck [throat].

" When Pat Donovan corned round wi' his trucks * my lady
goes to the door as brazen'en as you please, and offered 'un
the cat's skin.

" ' An' what sart of a rabbit are you callin' that, Mrs.
Luff?' asks Pat, for the fool had left the head on 'un, an' he
seed they wur never rabbit's ears.

"'It be arl right,' says she, 'an' he ain't broke, an' he's
a good skin, too.'

" Pat Donovan wur arlways on for his games, and p'r'aps,
too, he seed the lady wur a bit sprung, so he carries on about
the new sart o' rabbit skins, and the volk begins to gather
round, and this just suits Mr. Pat, because it means trade.
Presently, they as lives nex' door looks out to see what all the
barny's [row] about.

" Says Pat, holdin* up the cat's skin : ' Have yer evir seen
a rabbit as could ketch mice, afore?' And wi' that he puts
his fingers into the head, and lays the skin along the back of
his han', and begins to stroke and stroke.

" ' Put the blessed thing in thee trucks, an' don't stan'
foolin' there,' screeched Mrs. Luff, for she were in a proper
rage, I can tell you, for she seed what wur comin'. Just
then, one o' the maidens from nex' door, and then the ol'
'oman herself goes up to Pat and looks at the skin as he
strokes it down and down.

* A truck on two wheels is always described locally, as " a pair of trucks," or merely
" trucks " This article is never spoken of in the singular. A " pair of rosary beads," and a
" pair of stairs," are also old English expressions.

340

WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Dec.

" ' Where did 'e get he from ? ' asks the old 'un, quiet and
civil like.

11 ' Get he/ says Pat, ' why, from Mrs. Luff sure, and she
calls 'un a rabbit/

"That's our cat as we lost last Saturday, as sure as I'm
alive,' says the maiden, an' the ol* 'un joins in, and then they
two turns on Richard Luff's wife an' begins to call she all the
worstest of everything. But Mrs. Luff went in an' banged the
door, an' they'd lived too long next she, not to let she alone.

" That's the way, Father, she treated the poor ol' chap —
oh, he had a hard time of it, he had; and many's the time I
wur sorry for him from my heart. He must have been dead
years and years by this, for I left there when the work wur
finished, and come back here.

" I never told any 'on 'urn that I know'd what had become
o' Richard Luff, and when I heard them talking and saying as
how he wur murdered for sure and certain, I know'd better.
You be the fust I've told it to now, Father, for I promised
Richard Luff I never wouldn't, an' I kep* me word."

I had drawn this story from the old navvy only a day or
two ago, and now on this June morning, by a mere chance, I
was looking at the very spot where the tragedy had begun.
And it all seemed so incongruous. What was there in common
between this sweet Mendip lane and that drunken north coun-
try wench ? And why was the simple, quiet Richard Luff to
be the sport of this vulgar, violent woman? No; it is all out
of place, and I don't want to think of it any more. I would
rather watch the tiny rabbits as they play on the edge of the
copse below ; or the friendly swallows as they fly close round
me; or the white butterflies as they waltz above the golden
gorse, while I lie and muse in the spring sunshine, upon the
grass-grown rampart of the old camp on Mendip.

ANATOLE FRANCE'S " LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC."

BY J. BRICOUT.

II.

CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF THE DOCUMENTS.

FRANCE'S opinion of the chief documents that
relate to Joan of Arc is practically the same as
that of Jules Quicherat, who published the rec-
ords of the two trials, and the testimony of the
witnesses between 1841 and 1849. Henri Mar-
tin, Michelet, and in our own days M. E. Lavisse, and even
Petit de Julleville,* a Catholic, have formed a similar estimate
of their value. We must add, however, without delay, that in
setting forth those documents M. France differs in many im-
portant points, not only from Petit de Julleville, but also from
Quicherat and the free-thinking historians who follow him. In-
fluenced by certain learned alienists, and his own anti- clerical
hatred, M. France, more than all the rest combined, makes
Joan an unfortunate victim of perpetual hallucinations, a poor,
weak automaton, whose intellectual powers, as well as the part
she played, have been greatly exaggerated.

In our third and final article we will show that M. France's
Joan of Arc is not the Joan of history, the real Joan. Our
duty now is to examine the documents and weigh their value,
so as to base our conclusions on knowledge.

During the last ten years those documents have been studied
thoroughly by many able Catholic critics. We may well believe,
therefore, as Mgr. Touchet, Bishop of Orleans, has lately said,
that we now have a better grasp of Joan's history. f

* The first edition of de Julleville's work, La Venerable Jeanne d'Arc, appeared in 1900.
There has been no change in the editions that have appeared since January 6, 1904, when her
virtue was proclaimed heroic.

t In his Lenten pastoral of 1904, Mgr. Touchet wrote as follows about his diocesan
board of inquiry : " Our sittings were many and weighty, full of sharp discussions, and at times
apparently stirred to irritation by objections which came from Rome. In this point we erred."

" I had the honor of saying to the Pope in one of my audiences, that the subtle argn-
•lents advanced by the Very Reverend Promoter of the faith, had helped to deepen our
knowledge of Joan. In future, I added, it will hardly be possible for any one to write a life

342 , AN ATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF Axe." [Dec.,

M. France has a very poor opinion of the different chroni-
cles written during the lifetime or shortly after the death of
Joan. " If we knew," he says, "only what the French chron-
iclers tell us concerning Joan of Arc, we would know her about
as well as we know Sakya-Muni." * The Burgundian writers
are hardly more instructive.

"The chroniclers of that period, French as well as Bur-
gundian, were hired writers."! They wrote to please their mas-
ters. Moreover, fable and legend quickly laid hold of Joan.
From 1429 on Joan was seen only through a " set of stories
that are even more disordered than the clouds of a stormy
sky."J At the end of his first volume M. France exclaims:

Maid and peace-loving soldier, devotee, prophetess, sorcer-
ess, angel of the L,ord, ogress — everybody looks at her in his
own way and dreams of her according to his own character.
Pious people attribute to her an invincible sweetness and the
divine treasures of charity ; simple folk make her simple like
themselves; men who are violent and gross represent her as
an ugly and terrible giantess. Will it ever be possible to ficd
out what she was in reality ? There she is hidden from the
first hour, and perhaps forever, in the flowery thicket of
legend. §

The sketch is overdrawn, but M. France continually reverts
to it. To take the poetry or, to speak more accurately, the
supernatural, out of Joan's life, he must make his readers be-
lieve that her contemporaries unconsciously fashioned an unreal
Joan of their own. He would have it that German and Italian
strangers, though clever and well-informed men, saw her, like
the French, only through a chaotic mass of dreams and fictions.
Confronted by such unanimous testimony, a historian who is
not swayed by fear of the supernatural, but is inspired with an
unalloyed love of truth, would ask if there were not after all
something extraordinary and divine in Joan and her acts. M.
France shows no hesitation; he straightway denies that such
is the case. He affirms:

of this Tenerable servant of God without consulting the records of our investigation, in the
archives of the Congregation of Rites. In particular we may note that we subjected certain
acumcntstoa thorough criticism; we proved -their value, or, as the case might be, their
worthlessness ; and some we reconstructed in so truth-like a way that they carry conviction
with them ."— - Revue du Clergt Frangais, April 15, 1904.

* Vie de Jeanne d' Arc, Vol. I., p. 15. Y Vol. I., p. 4.

\ Vol. I., p. 545. $ Vol. I., p. 553.

1908.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 343

At no moment of her life was she known save through
fables. If she influenced crowds, it was because of the
countless legends that sprang up at her heels and flew before
her. There is room for reflection on that dazzling obscurity
which surrounded the Maid from the beginning. Those radi-
ant clouds of myth, which revealed even while they hid her,
should be examined.*

He concludes:

To sum up, the Maid was hardly known, even in her life-
time, except through fables. Her earliest chroniclers, men
utterly incapable oi scientific woik, from the very beginning
wrote down legends as facts. t

This verdict is too severe. That legends had a great in-
fluence on men in those stirring and credulous days, I have no
thought of denying, and I readily understand why a critical
historian looks twice before he accepts any one of them. This
legitimate distrust, however, should not lead a man to reject
a priori everything that is extraordinary or presupposes a divine
intervention. Sound philosophy shows that God exists; that
He can act in a special way in the created world ; and that no
one has any right to exclude miracles from history systematic-
ally. We are bound, therefore, to study with care the chron-
iclers who were contemporaries of the Maid. Their testimony
is not to be rejected solely because they occasionally mention
something marvelous.

Some of them were paid chroniclers who do not always
agree with the official records of the trials, nor with accounts,
letters, and public as well as private documents which have
come down to us from that time.

We grant all that. But this is no decisive reason for making
little of what they have written. An impartial historian will
weigh the arguments for and against in each individual case
and will decide as the balance leans to one side or the other.
M. Anatole France follows a different method. He always
rules out documents which contain even the slightest trace of
the supernatural. In this he is inexorable.

M. France, who sets so little store by the chroniclers who
lived at the same time as Joan, has a higher opinion of the
official records of the trials. He writes:

*Vol. I., p. 19. t Vol. I., p. 32.

344 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Dec.,

•

We will best find out the truth from the records of the trial
at Rouen, from certain accounts, letters, and private as well
as public documents. The process of rehabilitation will also
help the historian greatly, so long as he remembers how and
why that trial was held. By means of these documents we
can reconstruct the main features of Joan's character and life
with sufficient accuracy.*

This last sentence shows M. .France's historical scepticism.
The expressions he uses give evidence of too much mistrust,
for it can be safely said that we know very clearly what we
need to know about Joan of Arc. Laying aside this point,
however, let us see if M. France is right in putting the value
he does on the records of the two trials of condemnation and
rehabilitation.

It is evident that our opinion of Joan, of her mission, her
career, and her sanctity, ought to depend very largely on the
results of this critical study. These documents are of prime
importance. In comparison with them the rest are of but little
value. We might have said as much for the reports of the
Poitiers inquiry, if they had not been lost. In her trial Joan
frequently but vainly appealed to them. They were not quoted
in the process of rehabilitation. How and why were they lost
so soon ? M. France, whom we must now quote at length,
writes :

The condemnation trial is a treasure for the historian. The
prosecutors' questions cannot be studied too careiully. They
were based on information obtained at Domremy and in differ-
ent parts of France through which Joan had passed. The
reports they used have not been preserved. The judges of
1431 — need it be said? — aimed only at finding Joan guilty of
idolatry, heresy, sorcery, and other crimes against the Church.
They scrutinized everything that they could find out about
her life, for they were bent on discovering evil in her every
act and word. They wanted to destroy her so as to heap
dishonor on her king. Everybody knows what the Maid's
answers are worth. They have the ring of heroic honesty,
aud as a rule they are limpidly clear. Still we must not take
everything literally. Joan never looked on the bishop or his
assistant as her judges. She was not so simple as to tell
them the whole truth. When she warned them that they
did not know everything, she was as candid as could be ex-

* Vol. I., p. 32.

i9o8.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 345

pected. We must also note that she suffered a strange lack
of memory. I am well aware that a clerk wondered at the
exactness with which she recalled the answers she had given
to her questioner a fortnight before, That may be, in spite of
the fact that she did not always give exactly the same an-
swers. It is no less certain that after a year's lapse she had
only a confused remembrance of certain important events of
her life. Lastly, her perpetual hallucinations very often ren-
dered her incapable of distinguishing the true from the false.
The report of the trial is followed by an account of several
things said by Joan in articulo mortis. This account is not
signed by the clerks. For this reason it is irregular in law.
Still it is none the less a historical document of unquestion-
able authenticity. I believe that things happened in very
much the way that this extra-judicial document asserts. In
it we find Joan's second retractation, a retractation that is
not open to doubt, since Joan died with the last Sacraments.
Even those who called attention to the irregularity of this
document during the rehabilitation trial, did not tax its con-
tents with falsehood.*

What are we to think of these documents, the records of
the condemnation trial and the Posthumous Postscript? The
latest Catholic historians, f whom the Sacred Congregation of
Rites consulted before the publication of the 1904 decree, do
not look on them so favorably as Jules Quicherat and M.
France. They even speak in this connection of a " sort of
revolution in the interpretation of the documents." \

The term is hardly an exaggeration. For proof, compare
what Petit de Julleville wrote in 1900, about the condemna-
tion trial, with what Canon Dunand wrote four years later.

The former says plainly that he believes the records are
honest. "Whatever Cauchon's intentions may have been, Man-
chon, who was notary or clerk at the trial of 1431, and Pierre
Miget, who sat in it as a judge, both testified in the rehabili-
tation trial ; one to the effect that the official report which he
had signed was a faithful record and the other that the official
notaries were reliable men." Moreover, the official records show
no traces of fraudulent interpolations, "they fit well together
and seem exact." " Besides," adds de Julleville, "since I found

* Vol. I., pp. 2-4.

t Dunand, " L' He'roicitd des Vertus de Jeanne d 'Arc," dans la Revue du Clerge Frattfau,
April, 1904. \ Dunand, art. cit.

346 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Dec.,

•

nothing but what was wholly to the honor of Joan of Arc and
proclaimed aloud her innocence and her virtue,* I could not
discover any clear trace of the falsifications that are somewhat
vaguely imputed to her judges. "f

M. Dunand starts with the principle that accusations which
come from declared enemies are "absolutely untrustworthy,"
so long as those enemies " offer only their own testimony as
the proof or guarantee of their charges." Thence he concludes
that by themselves alone Pierre Cauchon's base charges against
the Maid, for whom he had a mortal hatred, deserve no cre-
dence. He reaches also the conclusion that the records of the
trial at Rouen, written up as they were at the order and under
the inspiration of the English, sworn enemies of Joan, by judges
and doctors who were in their pay, are unreliable from begin-
ning to end, and by themselves cannot be trusted in anything
that concerns the charges against the prisoner. | The contrast
is very marked. The following observation, however, may mod-
erate it a little. The minutes of the trial were first written in
French by the clerks Manchon and Boisguillaume. Quite a
while later they were translated into Latin by the same Man-
chon and Thomas de Courcelles. The latter, a doctor of the
Sorbonne, was a deadly enemy of Joan's § May we not believe
that the original was trustworthy as a rule, and that Thomas
de Courcelles changed it more or less in his Latin translation?
As a matter of fact, some really serious alterations have been
discovered. Besides, do we know Manchon and Miget well
enough to take their word without entertaining any doubts of
their sincerity or even their infallibility ? They may have been
deceived or they may have been dishonest. The best way to an-
swer the question, it seems to me, is to examine some partic-
ular points.

After Joan had been captured by the Burgundians, she was
shut up in the fortress of Beaurevoir. Having heard that Com-
piegne was about to be taken and handed over to fire and the
sword, and fearing also to be delivered to the English, she tried
to escape, despite the " voices " which urged her to take every-
thing in good part. Did she jump from the top of the tower,

• We will see later that these words of Petit de Julleville do not correspond exactly witk
his thought.

t Petit de Julleville, op. cit., pp. 109-111. \ Dunand, op. cit.t p. 390.

$ We have the whole of the Latin translation, but only a part of the French original.

I9o8.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 347

as the term which the records put into her mouth implies, or did
she fall, as the Chronicle of the Cordeliers * has it, when the
linen strips which she had tied together and fastened to her
window, broke just as she started to climb down them ?

" We must believe the Maid," says M. France. " She tells
us that she jumped. If she had fallen while sliding down an
improvised rope, she would not have felt guilty, nor would she
have accused herself of a sin."f

These reasons do not carry conviction. In whatever way
the prisoner tried to escape, she had disobeyed her "voices,"
and had therefore committed a fault, however excusable and
slight f On the other hand, Joan, in answering the question
put by her judges, may have used the term that they employed
— perhaps on purpose — without ever suspecting its treacherous
character. It may very well be, then, that the author of the
Chronicle of the Cordeliers, who was acquainted, as M. France
himself admits, "with certain diplomatic matters and had seen
some diplomatic documents," § told the truth in the present
case. One is all the more inclined to distrust the term used
in the text of the trial, in proportion as one feels that the
judges were interested in making people believe that Joan had
committed a grave sin of despair, and had wished to take her
own life. As this is a lie, it is quite likely that the phrase in
question is one also.

Let us go on to another fact, about which the text of the
trial is no less questionable — the sign given by Joan to Charles
VII. Here first of all is what the trial records say. Ques-
tioned by Cauchon on March 10, 1431, she at first refused to
answer. She had promised the king to keep his secret, and she
had thus far kept her promise. Harassed and pressed still fur-
ther by her judges, she ended by telling them that an angel,
acting for God, gave the king the sign. The sign, so the an-
gel assured the king as he gave him the crown, was that he
would have the whole kingdom of France with the help of God
and through the labors of Joan. The crown that he brought
was of fine gold; it was entrusted to the Archbishop of Rheims;

* This anonymous chronicle receives its name from the fact that the only manuscript whick
contains it comes from a Paris convent of that religious body. It was written by a well-informed
clerk from Picardy, a contemporary of Joan's, »nd a partisan of the Burgundians.

t Vol. II., p. 207.

\ " The only fault she ever committed," writes Petit de Julleville, op. «/., p. 126.

$Vol. I., p. 15.

348 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Dec.,

and was still in the king's treasury. The angel who brought
it entered by the gate, along with her and always accompanied
her.* Some days later she told the same story with new de-
tails. Now on the morning of the day she was burned, accor-
ding to the Posthumous Postscript, she acknowledged that she
was herself the angel, and that the crown was simply the prom-
ise that the king would be crowned.

Some who think the texts reliable, Quicherat and M. France,
for example, say that Joan did not tell the truth — that she
lied. Others try to excuse her on the score that she was com-
mitted to an " unpleasant course of conduct." Petit de Julleville,
from whom I quote these last few words, continues:

Being stubbornly determined — I say it to her glory — never
to give up the king's secret, she wished, however, to be freed
at any cost from the importunities of her judges. She thought
she had a right to set a real fact before them in an allegorical
form. In the end she told them of her interview with Charles
VII., and in doing so adorned what was really very simple,
with wonderful colors. . . . She invented this scene to
have done with a very annoying question, and to throw her
judges off the right track, by feeding their curiosity with her
fancies. This disguising of the truth — even when most in-
nocent and excusable — was not to the taste of her brave and
truthful tongue. She played this part poorly ; she contra-
dicted herself repeatedly. . . ,f

For my part, I am more inclined to agree with Joan's latest
Catholic historians in the judgment that not only the Posthu-
mous Postscript, but also the official records of the trial, fail to
tell the truth. M. Vallet de Viriville, a historian of Quicherat's
school, whom M. France greatly esteems | is of this opinion.
Here are his words: " This whole story of the sign and of the
angel seems to be a malicious parody on the answers made by
the prisoner. . . . We cannot repeat it too often, that in
our judgment this is a biassed, unreliable text, written by un-
just, hostile judges." § Writers belonging to the latter half of

" Petit de Julleville, op. elf., p. 130.

\Opcit., pp. 129-130. M. France (vol I., p. 90) remarks that Joan sometimes expressed
her thoughts in allegory.

| " In my judgment, the most thoughtful of all the histories written between 1817 and 1870,
is the one which forms the fourth book of Vallet de Viriville's History of Charles VI I. In it
care is taken to connect Joan with the group of visionaries to which she really belongs " (vol.
I., p. 66.) ^ Quoted by Dunand, artcil., p. 402.

igo8. J ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 349

the fifteenth century say the sign consisted in Joan's revealing
to Charles VII. a secret prayer of his about his own legitimacy.
It is very probable that these writers are to be believed in
preference to the official records of the trial or the Posthumous
Postscript.

There are still other reasons why the historian should mis-
trust these texts. Not to be too long, we will confine ourselves
to an examinination of what they tell us about Joan's last days*

On May 24,. 1431, the unfortunate Maid was driven in a
cart, under escort, to the cemetery of Saint Ouen, to listen to
a sermon and to hear the final sentence pronounced. If she
will consent to hold as true what " the clerks and those who
are judges of such matters say and have decided about her
words and actions"; if she will consent to wear women's
clothes ; to abjure and to revoke all that she has said, her ex-
communication will be lifted and sentence of death will not be
pronounced. Joan remains firm. All the while she wants to
obey the Church, and if the Church, i.e., the Universal Church,
commands it, she will sign the memorandum set before her.
Finally, as they threaten to burn her that very day, unless she
signs it immediately, she consents to their demand. In spite
of the promises by which several clerks have led her on, she
is brought back to the English prison. She dresses again as
a woman. Three days later, however, she resumes male attire.
Next day, Monday, May 28, Cauchon and the vice- inquisitor,
accompanied by many masters and doctors, repair to the castle
in which Joan is imprisoned.

Her face was tear-stained and disfigured with dreadful
grief.

She was asked when and why she had resumed that sort of
clothing.

She answered: I have just now put on men's clothes and
laid aside my woman's dress.

Why have you changed and who made you do it ?

I have done it of my own will, without any constraint. I
prefer male to female attire.

You have promised and sworn not to dress as a man.

I never understood that I had taken an oath not to do so.

Why have you taken to wearing such clothes again ?

Because it is more lawful for me to wear them again and
dress as a man, while I am among men, than to dress as a

350 AN ATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Dec.,

woman. ... I am wearing them again because the pro-
mises made to me, that I might go to Mass and receive ray
Savior and that I would be freed from my fetters, have not
been kept.

Have you sworn in the same way not to resume that kind of
garb ?

I would rather die than be in chains. But if they are will-
ing to let me go to Mass, and to take off my irons and to put
me in a decent prison and to let me have a woman with me,
I will be good and will do whatever the Church wishes.

Haven't you heard your voices since Thursday ?

Yes.

What did they say to you ?

They told me that God had sent word to me by Saints
Catherine and Margaret what a great pity it was that I had
consented to treason in making an abjuration and revocation
to save my life, and that I was damning myself to save my
life. It was through fear of the fire that I said what I did.

Thus spoke Joan, with grief. . . . She had dressed
again as a man, so as to obey once more her celestial counsel-
lor, because she did not want to purchase her life by denying
the angel and the saints, and finally because she wanted to
retract her abjuration publicly as well as in her heart.*

Now that she had relapsed, Joan had to be handed over to
the secular arm. Wednesday morning, May 30, word came that
she was to die that day. She realized at last that her " voices"
had deceived her, and she confessed it several times. Then she
was allowed to go to Communion. She was soon led out to
the scaffold which had been erected in the Vieux-Marche
Square. Cauchon pronounced sentence in his own name and
in the name of the vice inquisitor. An hour later she was dead,
burned alive at the stake.

Such is the story as we read it in M. France. Its -details
have been drawn from the records of the condemnation trial
and the Posthumous Postscript.

The first point to be noted is that the memorandum which
we find in the official report of the proceedings is not the one
that was read to Joan, the one she repeated and consented to
sign. The abjuration which was included in the records, and
which makes Joan retract and disavow in most humiliating lan-
guage everything she had said about her mission, is quite lengthy,

* A. France, op. cit., vol. II., pp. 276-8.

i9o8.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S "JOAN OF ARC:' 351

containing about fifty lines. Now in the process of rehabilita-
tion, the bailiff Jean Massieu, who had read the formula of ab-
juration to Joan, the notary, Guillaume Manchon, and other
witnesses, testified that the abjuraticn read to Joan was no
longer than a Pater, and contained only six or seven lines of
writing. A base substitution had been effected. Since we can-
not suspect these witnesses of lying, or of being deceived in
this matter, we must conclude that the formula which we read
in the records is a forgery. In the judgment of particularly
competent critics, such as Canon Ulysses Chevalier, M. Marius
Sepet, and Mgr. Duchesne, we may henceforth consider the
problem solved and hold this as a historical fact. M. Anatole
France himself recognizes it as such. With many others, how-
ever, he seems to believe that the long formula is only the de-
velopment of the shorter one. But " in that case, why were
not the two texts placed side by side, so that the honesty of
the judges might be above suspicion?1'*

Does not this fact justify us in having our doubts about the
remainder of the records and the Posthumous Postscript? We
are dealing with Joan's deadly enemies, utterly unscrupulous
men. Are they not capable of planning and carrying out a
veritable judicial ambush to destroy Joan and also to blacken
her in the eyes of posterity ? What faith can we put in men
who spared no pains to make it appear that Joan had relapsed,
and so led her to the stake?

This one fact alone gives us a right to distrust the Pos-
thumous Postscript, according to which, on the very day of her
death, Joan had once more disowned her heavenly revelations,
had presented her " voices " in a ridiculous and almost demoni-
acal light, and had acknowledged her untruthfulness in regard
to the sign given to Charles VII. Many other reasons lead us
to treat this document as unreliable. It is in the form of an
inquiry made by the judges eight days after Joan's death, and
is placed at the end of the trial records, Unlike them, it bears
no signature. Nobody ever came forward to guarantee its au-
thenticity. For all that M. France — whose words have been
quoted already — affirms that it is "an historical document ot
unquestionable authenticity." On what grounds ? First, be-
cause " it contains Joan's second retractation, a retractation that

* Dun and. La " Vie de Jeanne d' Arc" de M. Anatole France et les documents. P. 86
(Poussielgue, Paris, 15 me Cassette).

353 ANATOLE FRANCE'S "JOAN OF ARC." [Dec.,

•

is not open to doubt, since Joan died with the last sacraments."*
To this we may reply that if she had not made the retractation
her judges were clever enough to let her go to Communion so
as to make it appear that she had once more acknowledged
her delusions and her crime. M. France goes on to say:
"Those who called attention to the irregularity of this docu-
ment during the trial of rehabilitation did not tax its contents
with falsehood." Grant all that! What follows from it ? They
may have been deceived by others, or they may have been self-
deceived. Possibly they were not wholly in good faith. No ;
the authenticity and the veracity of the Posthumous Postscript
have not been proved. Quite the contrary!

This is why recent Catholic historians have not had recourse,
like Petit de Julleville, for example, to charitable interpreta-
tions or to extenuating circumstances in order to vindicate
Joan. They tell the story of the young girl's last days with-
out taking the Postscript into account. From the records of
the condemnation trial they take only what can be easily
reconciled with what we know for certain about Joan and her
character, and what we are told elsewhere about her doings
and sayings during the last week of her life. To tell the
truth, can a well-informed and fair-minded critic blame them
for that ?

M. Anatole France, who, in a general way, sets a high value
on the records of the condemnation trial and on the anony-
mous document which has been added to them, is proportion-
ately severe in his arraignment of the rehabilitation trial.

True, he grants that " the rehabilitation trial, with its me-
moirs, its consultations, its one hundred and forty testimonies fur-
nished by one hundred and twenty-three witnesses, affords us
a rich supply of documents," and that it clears up a great
many obscure points. He strongly urges historians, however,
" never to forget how and why this trial was held."

If it were not carried too far, this caution would be legiti-
mate and wise. M. France carries it too far. He writes :

The witnesses, for the most part, show themselves exceed-
ingly simple and uudiscerning. It saddens a man to find so
few judicious and clear-headed people in this crowd of all
ages and conditions. Souls seem to have been wrapped up at

• This statement is not exact. She was not anoiated.

i9o8.J AN ATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." 353

that time in a twilight in which nothing stood out distinctly.
Thought as well as language was strangely childish. One
cannot go far into that obscure age without believing oneself
among children. Along with interminable wars, misery and
ignorance had reduced mankind to mental poverty and ex-
treme moral indigence. The scanty, slashed, ridiculous attire
of the nobles and of the rich betrays their absurdly garish
tastes and their intellectual weakness. Their levity is one of
the most striking characteristics of these little minds. They
cannot pay attention to anything ; they cannot retain anything.
No one who has read the writings of those days can help be-
ing struck by this almost general weakness.

Besides we cannot trust everything in those one hundred
and forty affidavits.*

M. France then cites certain depositions which he thinks
very improbable, or are contradicted by documents which he
considers more reliable. He goes on :

In this work, while dealing with the rehabilitation trial, I
have given my opinion as to what we should think about the
depositions of the clerks, of the bailiff Massieu, of Brother
Isambard de la Pierre, of Brother Martin Ladvenu, and of all
those witch-burners and avengers of God who worked with as
stout a heart to rehabilitate Joan as to condemn her.t

" Cloister and sacristy tales," J he scornfully exclaims, in re-
ferring to what was said in the rehabilitation trial about at-
tempts at violence which had made Joan resolve to dress again
as a man. He is not at a loss for words to abuse " all those
Church ink-wells," the clerks, " who had drawn up arguments
for the prosecution and then did marvels to destroy them; who4
the more zealous they had been in building up the case, aimed
the more at tearing it down; who discovered as many flaws in
it as one could wish ; $ and who, over and above all this, in-
vented a thousand silly stories to blacken Cauchon and to ex-
culpate Joan."

His final reason for mistrust is thus courteously stated by
M. France :

If the testimony given in the second trial frequently seems
to be artificial and studied, if it is sometimes altogether false,
the fault rests not only with those who gave that testimony,

* Vol. I., p. 20. t Vol. I., p. 24. \ Vol. II., p. 377. $ Vol. II., p. 488.

VOL. LXXXVIII. — 23

«54 ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC." [Dec.,

but also with those who received it. They sought it too de-
viously. This testimony has no more value than that given
in an inquisition. In some places it represents the mind of
the judges as much as that of the witnesses.*

Joan must be made out an unintelligent, feeble-minded girl ;
thus it will be much easier to defend many of her words and
acts; and besides the Holy Spirit will be more manifest in her.
She must have an infused knowledge of war; she must be
miraculously pure, and to the degree of sanctity ; for thus her
mission will be more evident and more unquestionable. Every-
thing was arranged in such a way that the witnesses would
make her out ignorant, artless, skillful in waging war, and of
such saintly purity as to astonish the soldiers among whom
she lived. "All this," concludes M. France, " as any one may
see, corresponds with the thought of the judges; and these, if
I may use the term, are theological, rather than natural truths. "f

This skillful arraignment is complete; infantile simplicity or
base villainy on the part of the witnesses; cunning on the
part of the judges. Everything that can help to disparage the
rehabilitation trial is abundantly and adroitly set forth in M.
France's book.

There is some truth in what he says, but it is exaggerated.
To be sure we must not accept blindly what we are told twenty-
five years after the events in question, by witnesses who are
sometimes credulous or interested, who have no critical spirit,
who are desirous of setting themselves right with the world or
of vindicating one whom they knew or loved ; and who finally
were questioned for the very evident purpose of annulling a
previous sentence. For all that let us be slow to charge them
with either error or deception. Let us not do that out of par-
tisanship nor without a grave reason.

A witness testifies to something extraordinary and marvel-
ous. M. France, who does not believe in the supernatural, nor
in miracles, quickly classes him among the feeble-minded.

Another witness, in testifying to some word or act of Joan's,
clashes with certain documents. M. France, who has his rea-
sons— they are not always critical and scientific — for preferring
{hose documents to the rehabilitation trial, sees in the asser-
t;ion only an interested lie or a childish illusion.

* Vol. I., pp. 24-25. f Vol. I., p. 28.

1908.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S "JOAN OF ARC." 355

This is a very convenient way of acting. It does indeed
indicate a methodical mind, but it is of such a nature that it
frequently leads a man too far. Why, alas ! indeed, did not
God intervene to accredit His ambassadress, or to help her ful-
fil her task of liberation ? But why, we ask in our turn, must
we doubt a man's word because he becomes a friend instead of
an enemy, or because he is trying to repair the evil he has
done ? Why, in fine, must we refuse to accept what is to Joan's
honor or to the credit of those who sought her vindication,
while we make haste to admit everything that tells against
them?

Our enemies freely charge us with writing history, not for
the sake of the truth, but to help the Church. Have we not
as much, nay even more reason to reproach them on the same
score ?

At any rate the critical study which we have just made —
perhaps at somewhat too great a length — enables us to conclude
that M. Anatole France has frequently had a false notion of
the documents in the case. May we not, then, with some show
of reason, entertain a suspicion that he has not built a solid
edifice on his ruinous foundations ?

What we have to say further will show our readers that the
suspicion is unhappily only too well fourded, and that the
Joan of Arc imagined by M. France bears little likeness to the
Maid who was the marvel of her age.

(TO BE CONCLUDED )

TO MEN OF GOOD-WILL

BY JEANIE DRAKE.

fE was a tall and strapping young fellow, lean and
muscular of body, well balanced of mind, and pre-
eminently a man of peace. If you had met him
a year or more ago in his native Alsatian village,
and had questioned him of his scheme of life,
being simple and direct of thought and speech, he would have
answered you:

" Monsieur, my grandfather was blacksmith of Falons, my
father was blacksmith of Falons, and I, too, will keep the forge.
But, since Rose Marie has the fancy, I will also buy a little
farm, with a cow and chickens, and my good mother shall sit
in our chimney-corner and enjoy warm milk and new-laid eggs.
Who is Rose Marie, do you ask ? Ah, Monsieur, she is the
best and sweetest — yes, and the prettiest girl in France. We
are to be married as soon after Christmas as the Church per-
mits; but what she can see in a plain, stupid fellow like me is
the wonder. The good nuns have taught her music and many
accomplishments; and she can, besides, cook and spin and
nurse the sick. It is only on Sundays and feast-days that I
feel anywhere near her, as I have a sort of voice (and she has
taught me) and I sing in the choir. You must hear our an-
thems, for the cure, Father Ambrose, says to every one that
his choir is not so bad. But it is all owing to Rose Marie's
drilling. I wish you may be here for the wedding."

Now, it was Christmas-tide and, instead, Rene Dufour, far
from beloved Alsace, watched out the wintry night in blood-
stained trenches, encompassing the privations and suffering, the
fratricidal strife, the expiring hopes and ultimate despair of
starving, besieged Paris. It was bewildering when you come
to think of it. He who had shaken and cuffed in easy-going
finality many a village adversary, rather than enter into more
vindictive combat; who had forgiven with the large tolerance
of a mild nature and a strong frame all things forgivable; and
even, in just resentment of the seeming unforgivable, had let

1908.] To MEN OF GOOD- WILL 357

Rose Marie's soft eyes and pursuasive voice turn him from con-
templated retaliation.

" There is nothing unpardonable," he could hear her coax-
ing even now, " or how could any of us dare to die when the
time comes? Peace is always and forever best."

Yet here he stood, with armed hosts opposed, to spoil or
be despoiled, to wound or be wounded, to kill or be killed.
Sullen cannonading roared and echoed among the hills and
hollows. Balls came cleaving and whistliug, to scatter inani-
mate dust or bury themselves in animate flesh. Smoke lifted
and fell, acrid and choking, and from its obscurities came sharp
command how best to slay, or sudden cry or moan as this com-
rade or that fell in the rifle-pits, writhing, distorted. "Peace!
Peace!" counselled Rose Marie; and this was what came.

At least he had not volunteered for inhuman contention
until his very home and people were threatened.

" They will call me coward," he said at last.

"You!" cried Rose Marie, with inspiriting disdain of the
very thought. " Well, go then, since you must or be conscripted.
I give thanks that you are not accountable ; and may the dear
Lord forgive them who call the Prince of Peace a God of Bat-
tles. But if you, my Rene, must go soldiering to others' harm,
I can but try to heal, at least." Then, parting from him with
helpful show of courage, she had enrolled herself among the
nurses and been sent — he knew not whither.

So sadly thinned was his own company from previous en-
counters that it was now combined with one of the Parisian
gardes mobiles, wild fellows and reckless, whose officers could
hardly handle or keep within precarious shelter. Yet even
they had a bit envied Rene's mention twice in general orders
" for conspicuous bravery."

" It comes in the day's work," he told them quietly. His
panic of the raw recruit once overcome, his continuous, sicken-
ing horror at inevitable cruelty held in abeyance, he was now
but a calm, clear-headed servant of military discipline, obedient
to the call of a seeming duty, however repugnant. " A duty,
God of Love ! A duty, my Rose Marie ! " Yet, under the
hottest rain of bullets, he loaded and fired, re-loaded and fired
again, with the steady, mechanical precision with which he
turned out horseshoes at the forge.

As he crouched, a twinge from the cold bit into the leg

358 TO MEN OF GOOD-WILL [Dec,,

which had been slightly wounded at Sedan, and he rested, gun
in arm-hollow, striking his benumbed fingers together; then,
cautiously straightening his cramped limbs, he slipped across
to a higher mound, the icy earth crackling beneath his feet.
Here he could stand nearly at length, his ears alert, his eyes
intent for danger, yet ranging over all the wide scene, which
lifting smoke permitted to view.

" Where is she ? Where is she ? " iterated an inner con-
sciousness, " on this eve of the dear Lord's birthday ? My
Rose Marie, lover of peace — and of me ! " A few of the nurses,
so he had heard, greatly daring for humanity's sake, had been
killed, and others wounded. So overwhelming had been un-
expected defeat, so demoralizing the hasty retreat upon the
capital, so urgent the need for womanly service, that all had
been transported here, there, everywhere, as occasion called.
"If alive, to-night of all nights, she surely thinks of me."

It was near to twelve o'clock now, and freezing ever harder.
Over head the clear, frosty skies, magnificently star- jewelled,
glittered and sparkled and shimmered. There was a half moon,
palely illumining the wide, snow covered, sinking and swelling,
ghostly expanses of the earth beneath.

From the advance- posts of the Germans could be plainly
distinguished their challenge : " Werda?" And — so close were
they — the ring of their rifle butts on the icy ground, even, was
quite clear. On their side must have been heard, with equal
distinctness, the French sentries' " Qui vive f " The furious can-
nonading, and even more murderous firing from the rifle-pits,
seemed suddenly suspended for an interval. A curious, brood-
ing silence reigned for a while over the deathful, snow- clad,
blood-stained fields. As an officer stamped his feet to restore
sensation, a tall private, alert and active, of well- cut features
and a calm, intelligent expression, stepped out frcm the line
of gardes and Alsatians, and saluted.

" What is it?'1

" Captain, may I have leave of absence from the watch for
a little while ? "

"Nonsense; you are beside yourself. Step into your place
instantly. Do you suppose that I am less cold than yourself?
Or are the others ? Do not be afraid— this is only a breath-
ing spell. Wait a little. When the firing begins again we will
all be warm enough."

1908.] To MEN OF GOOD-WILL 359

The soldier did not move. Still saluting, he continued most
respectfully but pertinaciously: "Captain, I beg you, give me
your permission. The matter will take only a few moments.
I assure you, you will have no reason to regret it."

" The deuce I will not ! Who are you, anyhow, and what
do you want to do ?"

11 Who am I ? Why, I am Rene Dufour, chief singer in
Father Ambrose's choir. What I want to do, Captain, must,
please, reuiin my secret, for a few minutes only."

"Then let it remain undone. No further foolishness. Get
back. If I were to let one private return to Paris to-night, I
I might as well send back the whole corrpany."

" Why, Captain " — smiling frankly — " I have no desire to go
to Paris to-night. I want to go in this direction," and he
pointed over toward the German lines. "I 'ask lor only two
minutes' leave of absence."

The officer's curiosity was keenly awakened. Quiet still
brooded over the wintry night and scene.

" Well, then " — he hesitated — " you may go for that length
of time. But, remember, it is your own desire. You are al-
most certainly seeking death."

Rene immediately leaped out of the trench and advanced
swiftly toward the enemy. In the silence of the night the
snow could be heard crunching under his feet, and the black
silhouette of his figure, cast in shadow by the moonlight, ap-
peared mysteriously to lengthen. At ten paces distance he
stood fast, drawing himself to his full height and saluting.
Then, with powerful, deep-chested voice, and great and moving
fervor of expression, he began to sing the beautiful Christmas
hymn of the composer Adam:

" Minuit, Chretiens, c'est 1'heure solennelle,
Ou I'homme-Dieu descendit sur nous."

" 'Tis midnight, Christians, the solemn hour
At which the God- man descended unto us."

Sounding forth so unexpectedly over the silvery, solemn,
silent stretches, under the sparkling winter skies, such beauty
and impressiveness were added to the song through the sacred
memories of the Holy Eve in such strange, outward contrast-

360 To MEN OF GOOD- WILL [Dec.,

ing circumstance, that even the Parisians, many of them doubt-
ers and scoffers, listened with deep and genuine emotion.

Similar feelings must have swayed the German portion of
his audience. Doubtless many of these were reminded of a
far-away home, of family and children, neighbors and friends
clustered joyously around the Christmas tree. Not a weapon
was raised against the daring singer ; no command was givenf
no call or step was heard. In unbroken silence the men of
both armies listened to this touching reminder of their home
life and their religion. His song ended, the brave soldier sa-
luted once more, turned on his heel, and marched deliberately
back to his own trenches :

" Captain, I report my return. I hope you do not regret
your permission."

Before his officer could answer, attention was called once
more to the German side, where, in his turn advancing towards
the lines, the heavy, helmeted figure of an artillery-man now
became visible. Ten steps or more he strode forward, just as
Rene had done, halted, coolly made the military salute, and in
the midst of the wintry night, surrounded by all these armed
men who for months past had had no other thought than to
destroy one another, he uplifted, with full voice and heart, a
lovely German Christmas hymn, a hymn of praise and thank-
fulness for the meek and lowly Christ Child, who came into the
world eighteen centuries beiore to bring the divine behest of
peace and love to mankind, and whom men have so poorly
heeded or obeyed :

' Von Himmel hoch, da komm ich her,
Ich bring euch gute, neue Mahr."

" From Heaven above to earth I come,
To bring glad news to every home.11

So sang the German soldier, his full, mellow tones ringing
out upon the night. He ended his hymn with the joyous cry:
' Weihnachtszeit! " " Weihnachtszeit / " " Christmas time I "
And from the German intrenchments came in full chorus the
glad refrain: " Weihnachtszeit / " Then, with one voice, the
French soldiers responded: "Noel! Noel!" " Christmas !
Christmas ! "

1908.] To MEN OF GOOD-WILL 361

The artillery-man slowly retraced his steps and disappeared
in the trenches. An hour afterward the cannon from the forts
boomed and crashed and roared their murderous business; and
rifle-bullets sang and split the air once more before embedding
themselves in quivering flesh. The Christmas singers crouched
once more in the pits directing with accustomed precision mis-
siles for each other's destruction. Thick smoke and welling
blood, groans and cries, once more defiled and tortured the
birth-night of the gentle Master.

One singer, however, after his reverential and appealing
chant, was ordained no more to take his brother's life. Hardly
had storm of battle been renewed when Rene Dufour crumpled
up suddenly as he knelt, rolled over, gasping : " Seigneur
Dieu ! " and lay still. He had a moment of semi-conscious-
ness when they were lifting him into an ambulance, and he
heard the surgeon — leagues away, it sounded — saying: "Not
much use putting that one in — it will be over shortly " ; and
thought: "So much the better. Slaughtering is nauseous bus-
iness. Rather be dead than kill." Then he waked again,
weeks afterward, in a Parisian hospital, and fancied at first
that he might be in heaven, taking the cornettes of the Sisters
of Charity flitting here and there through ward and corridor
for wings of angels. A sharp pain in his side dissipated this
thought, and when a cool hand was laid on his head he looked
up to see one neither angel nor Sister of Charity, but whose
sleeve bore the insignia of the field- nurses. "Oh, Sister,"
said a well-remembered voice, " thanks be to God ! he is
conscious."

" Rose Marie ! "

"You must not talk. Take this now, and sleep."

When allowed, he asked: "But how came you here — away
from the lines ? I asked so many and could hear nothing of
you."

" And I, my Rene, how hard I tried to have news of you.
But must go — and go — always where I was sent. I should
never have known your whereabouts but for that wonderful,
beautiful thing you did. It was an inspiration — singing there,
in the moonlight and the snow, of the dear Jesus to the
fighters. I was at work in the hospital tent in your rear when
I heard your dear voice calling in the stillness to the armies.

362 To MEN OF GOOD-WILL [Dec.

Then I made my way — in spite of all — in time to come back
with you. Your recovery — you must think it a reward for the
hymn — "

A doctor had paused to take rapid note of the patient's
progress. He smiled a little : " Whatever reward may be due
you, my man, it is given you here" — touching her sleeve.
"You owe her — everything. The Sisters and I — we had our
hands more than full with all the poor fellows brought in,
and many died. But you had Nurse Rose Marie's undivided
attention. Thank her for your life."

" Under God," said the girl with reverence, as he passed
on. "You know," she told Rene gently, "war is over. The
Germans have won — it is permitted by the Lord — and they
occupy the city. Exchange of the wounded prisoners is now
going on — and you will be sent home when your strength is
greater."

"And you with me? Ah, Rose Marie, to see again our
village — the forge, the little farm, and the dear old mother in
the chimney corner, Father Ambrose and the choir, who will
sing anthems at our wedding — will they not?"

" Perhaps. At any rate, please God ! we will celebrate our
next Christmas not to the sound of bugle and cannon, but to
that of hymns of praise to Him, peace and good- will to all His
creatures. What happiness, my Rene!"

THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM.

BY THOMAS J. GERRARD.

[T seems needful once more to recall the sayirg of
Newman that in his work on the Illative Sense
he had no intention ol formulating a theory, but
only of presenting an analysis of phenomena.
Nevertheless, almost in spite of himself, he left a
clue to a ready-made, age-old theory which at least has a close
affinity to, even if it does not exactly fit, the analysis. This
is the Aristotelian theory of intellectual habits. The clue is
the concept of phronesis or judgment. Newman begins to de-
scribe the Illative Sense by comparing it with phronesis as used
in the Nicomachean Ethics. There it is the habit or virtue of
the intellect which enables it to perform its most perfect judg-
ments concerning conduct. Aristotle did not limit its function
to conduct, though Newman takes that aspect of it for the
purpose of his illustration.*

As phronesis is then to moral duty, so is the Illative Sense
to intellectual truth. Now it so happens that St. Thomas has
chosen this identical concept of phronesis as a basis for his doc-
trine concerning the habit and gift of wisdcm. In his strong
hands the Aristotelian theory undergoes a complete transforma-
tion, for it must needs be adapted to the revealed truths of
man's supernatural end and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. I pro-
pose then in the following essay to sketch the origin, the na-
ture, and the function of the habit and gift of wisdom as the
same appears to me from the pages of the Suwwa, and to in-
dicate the bearing of the same on the question of religious
assent.

The first step towards a right understanding of this doctrine
will be to take a glance at the general anthropology of St.
Thomas. We cannot remind ourselves too often that he was a
prince amongst scholastics. He towered above them, the no-
blest of them all. A long line of brilliant intellects led up to
him, and then came a rapid falling off. It is only too tru«

* Grammar of Assent, p. 353.

364 THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM [Dec.,

•

that he did not escape the influence of that ultra-dialecticism
for which his age was notorious. Still, together with the su-
preme dialectical and intellectual aspect of things, he did not
lose sight of the human, the real, and the concrete. Certainly
science was to concern itself with universals, but universals
were to have their foundation in particulars; and in proportion
as the mind was equipped with universals, so much the more
fit was it to deal with the concrete particulars of life. He says:

Choice in action follows a judgment of the reason. In
things to be done much uncertainty is iound, because actions
concern contingent singulars, which, on account of their
changeableness, are uncertain. In doubtful or uncertain
things, however, the reason does not make a judgment with-
out a previous inquiry, and therefore an irquiry of the reason
is necessary before a judgment in the choice of things.
. . . When the acts of two powers are ordained for the
sake of each other, there is something in each which belongs
to the other, and so both acts may be named after each other.
It is indeed manifest that the act of the reason directing
things to an end, and the act of the will tending towards those
things according to the rule of reason, are ordained to help
each other mutually. Hence in the act of the will, which is
choice, there appears something of the reason, namely, order ;
whilst in advice, which is an act of the reason, there appears
something of the will, namely, the matter which the man
wants to do. This in fact is his motive, for it is on account
of the man wishing the end that he takes counsel concerning
the means to the end. Hence, Aristotle can say that choice
is an appetitive intellect, whilst St. John Damascene can say
that counsel is an inquisitive appetite.

Hence, when St. Thomas says that science deals with uni-
versals he manifestly intends that those universals shall be the
fruit of a ripe experience with particulars, and that in the ap-
plication of theories to the working out of man's aims due
regard shall be paid to facts. Some of his followers seem to
have forgotten this, but the work of Newman has recalled them
to a sense of proportion. The Cardinal is only repeating St.
Thomas' doctrine when he says: "Let units come first, and
(so-called) universals second; let universals minister to units,
not units be sacrificed to universals."* He attaches, perhaps,

* ibid., p. 279.

1908.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 365

more importance to the unit than did the mediaeval doctor;
nor is the epithet " so-called " without its touch of irony. But
then he was looking at men's minds as they are, whilst St.
Thomas was looking at them as they ought to be. There is no
small difference between the quality of universals stored up in
the average concrete mind and that of those which would exist
in the ideal and perfect mind.

Again, St. Thomas was keenly alive to those various de-
grees of certitude which ultra-dialecticism seems so unable to
comprehend. He says that the same kind of certitude cannot
be found nor must it be sought for equally in all things. A
properly educated man seeks only so much of certitude as the
nature of each individual case allows. And with an exquisite
quiet irony the Angelic Doctor remarks on the dialecticians of
his day: "There are some who do not accept that which is
said to them unless it be said in a mathematical way. And
this happens on account of the custom of those who have been
brought up on mathematics, for custom is a second nature.
This also can happen to some people on account of their in-
disposition, to those, namely, who have a strong imagination
and a not very elevated understanding." *

All this has its root in the principle of dichotomy. Accor-
ding to this principle it is the same soul in man which thinks,
wills, feels, vegetates, and actuates the primary matter. The
body is the primary matter, which has no other function but
to limit the action of the soul, for primary matter is a pure
potency, and every act is limited by the potency into which it
is received. Nevertheless in human actions it is the whole man
who acts, not his soul, nor his body, nor his will, nor his in-
tellect, nor his feelings, nor his substantial iorm, nor his pri-
mary matter; but his person, his distinct, subsisting, rational
nature. Pars est propter totum, et anima propter animatum.
On the other hand, however, the actions and vital functions do
not come from the man immediately. They do not come di-
rectly from his person, but indirectly through the means of
certain powers. Each of these is a principium quo, whilst the
man is the principium quod. There is an essential difference
between the intellectual and the sensitive faculties, yet at the
same time an intimate though accidental connection between
them, a connection so intimate that the intellect and the will

* Metafhys. Lib. I., lect. V.

566 THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM [Dec.,

cannot act without the aid of a sensitive phantasm of some
kind.

Since the various functions, then, spring frcm one and the
same principle of life, namely the soul, they act in harmony
with each other, the lower serving the higher, the higher con-
trolling the lower. They are normally reciprocative. Some-
times the sensitive functions seem to be at war with the ra-
tional functions. That is because the rational functions are not
then in their natural and normal condition. The fundamental
activity of the soul being unduly absorbed by the sensitive
faculty is withdrawn from the intellectual. But when all the
faculties are in normal condition, and especially when the dis-
orders of sin have been healed by the acticn of grace, then on
account of the principle of dichotomy, there is a reciprocal ac-
tion and reaction between the functions, and also between body
and soul.

Father Rickaby * says that St. Thomas will not allow that
the body can act on the soul. This statement needs modifica-
tion. If by " body " be meant the primary matter of which
the soul is the substantial form, then it is a pure potency and
cannot act. But in man primary matter should not be consid-
ered except in so far as it is actuated and sensitized by the
soul. And thus it can act and react on the higher powers of
the soul. When St. Paul said that he chastised his bcdy and
brought it into subjection he did not mean that he chastised
his materia prima. He meant that he so exercised his rational
and volitional functions as to make their combined force stronger
than the combined force of the sensitive ard vegetative furc-
tions. St. Thomas also speaks of body and soul under this as-
pect. He says :

According to the order of nature, on account of the combi-
nation of the forces of the soul in one essence, and of the soul
and body in one composite being, the superior forces and also
the body influence each other ; and hence it is from the soul's
apprehension that the body is transmuted, . . . and like-
wise conversely the transmutation of the body re-acts upon
the soul. Similarly the higher powers act upon the lower
powers, as when passion in the sensual appetite follows upon
an intense movement of the will, or when close study re-
strains and hinders the animal powers from their acts ; and

* God and His Creatures, p. 115.

i9o8.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 367

conversely when the lower powers act upon the higher pow-
ers, and from the vehemence ot the passions in the sensual
appetite the reason is darkened.*

Nay, he will even admit that the perfection of the lever
functions is proportionate with the perfection of the higher
functions.

Man has a more delicate sense of touch than any other an-
imal ; and even amongst men themselves, those who have the
finer sense of touch have the keener power of intellect. We
see a sign of this in the fact that those who have soft flesh
have able minds. t

This, whether in itself true or not, appositely exemplifies
the doctrine ot the saint. The same principle foims the basis
of the theory of cognition. The exercise of the external senses
is followed by that of the internal senses. The active intellect
abstracts its universals from the particulars in the phantasm.
The receptive intellect receives them and there they are for
the purposes of scientific thought. The intellect may then act
by intuition or by discursive reason. It must of necessity cling
to first principles. The will too must of necessity tend toward
well-being; for this is its final aim, and in this it has no choice.
As regards its intermediate ends, however, it is free. Yet when
it does act freely it must do so by the aid of intellectual light,
so that when the actual choice is made, the act, although spe-
cifically of the will, represents the result of deliberation. A
rational choice includes a whole series of acts of reason, will,
and feeling, each acting according to its own nature, each in-
tertwined with the others, all going to make up what we un-
derstand by a free judgment. Deliberate choice is not an act
of the will alone nor of the reason alone. It is rather the re-
sult of one power with a double virtue. Hence St. Thomas
defines it as the facultas voluntatis et rationis, the faculty of
will and reason combined.

It is quite one thing, however, to possess faculties and quite
another to employ them to the best advantage. The world has
just been surprised by the invention of a working aeroplane.
Man has at last learnt how to fly. Mr. Farman, using a machine

* Quest, disp. de Veritate qu. xxvi., a. 10.
t Summa, par. I., qu. Ixxvi., a. 5 corp.

368 THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM [Dec,,

built on the Chanute principle, has started from a given point,
raised himself to a height of about twenty- five feet, flown for-
ward half a mile, described a semicircle, and flown back to the
starting point. The important part of the discovery, however,
is this, that success depends not so much on the flying-machine
as the experience in flight of the man who mounts it. Even
a bird requires much practice. A young vulture has been
known to require three months to be able to fly from the time
it made its first attempt First it glides down hill, secondly it
tries to jump up in the air, all [the while flapping its wings.
This is exactly what Mr. Farman did. For weeks he was con-
tent to glide down declivities. He needed a suitable machine,
but he needed also to get into the habit of flying. So also is
it with the flight of thought. If man is to soar to the highest
peaks, where he can see the ultimate reasons of things, he can
only do so by cultivating a special intellectual habit, and to
that habit there has been given the name of wisdom.

Now just as there are three kinds of habits required for the
proper working of a flying-machine, namely the easy gliding
down hill, the rising forward movement into the air, and the
turning round and round at leisure, so there are three kinds of
habits required for the flight of speculation. First, the intel-
lect must be disposed to see those truths which to the average
mind are evident in themselves. It must be able to see, for
instance, that parallel lines will not meet and that a whole is
greater than its part. This habit is called understanding (in-
tellectus] or common sense. Secondly, the intellect must be dis-
posed to work out those truths which are not evident in them-
selves, but which may become evident by arguing from the
known to the unknown. The habit, when duly formed, enables
the intellect to see easily conclusions which, without the habit,
would require laborious working out. It is called scientia or
the scientific habit. It does for the scientist what common
sense does for every individual. It turns his study and ac-
quired knowledge into common sense. By its virtue he sees
at once and without effort the truth of such propositions as:
"an angle inscribed in a semicircle is a right-angle," or " water
is a combination of oxygen and hydrogen." Thirdly, the in-
tellect must not only be disposed to see principles easily and
to see conclusions easily, but it must also be disposed to handle
and arrange its principles and conclusions easily. It must be

i9o8.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 369

able to turn itself here and there, deftly comparing principles
and conclusions with other principles and conclusions, following
them back to their ultimate causes, and ordaining them to
man's highest interests. The disposition to do all this is the
habit of wisdom.

Some habits exist in man by nature. The habit of under-
standing or common sense is one of these. As soon as a man
knows what a "whole" and what a "part" is, he sees imme-
diately that a whole is greater than its part. But there are
other habits which must be acquired. Since the intellect is
passive as well as active, it retains the impression made upon it.
Many impressions will eventually produce a new quality. The
latent capabilities of the intellect must be painfully conquered
by a repetition of acts before it is ready for its work of deep
and serious thought. Thus is the habit of wisdom generated.
Thus also is it improved. And as all acquired habits may be
lost or spoiled by neglect or misuse, so too is it with the habit
of wisdom. If we are satisfied with the knowledge which we
learnt at school, if we are not ever seeking to assimilate more
knowledge and to adjust our lives accordingly, then assuredly
is our habit of wisdom losing its virtue.

Again, a habit may be trained in different directions. In
this does its value consist. The habit of science, for instance,
may be trained along the various lines of mathematics, chemis-
try, moral philosophy, and political economy. But although it
enables its faculties to act along different lines and concerning
different objects, yet it ordains the knowledge acquired to one
end and thus demonstrates its unity. I am inclined, therefore,
to disagree with Newman where he speaks of there being as
many kinds of phronesis as there are virtues. He speaks with
hesitation, however, and I think if he had had St. Thomas'
distinction before him, of a habit being multiple in its opera-
tion but simple in its essence, he would have agreed. Once
again, however, we must remember that his aim was to analyze
phenomena, not to make up a theory.

The transformation of the Aristotelian theory in the hands
of St. Thomas is twofold. The habit of wisdom is enriched
by a special gift enabling it to deal with supernatural truths
as well as with natural, and its range is extended enabling it
to deal with practical truths as well as with speculative. Aristo-
tle has said that " it pertains to a wise man to consider the
VOL. LXXXVIIL — 24

370 THE HABIT AND GUT OF WISDOM [Dec.,

ultimate cause through which he can most surely judge con-
cerning other causes, and according to which he ought to
order all things.1' St. Thomas then adopts this idea. He says:

The power of intellect, first of all, simply apprehends some-
thing, and this act is called "understanding"; secondly,
however, it takes that which it apprehends and orders it to-
wards knowing or doing something else, and this is called
"intention"; whilst, however, it is engaged in the inquiry
of that which it intends, it is called "excogitation"; but
when it examines that which it has thought out with other
certain truths, it is said to know or to be wise. And this is
the function of bhronesis or sapicntia ; for it is the function of
wisdom to judge.*

Further, an ultimate cause may be conceived in two ways,
First it may be conceived in any given particular line of thought.
He who knows the ultimate cause of things in one special sub-
ject, say that of medicine or that of architecture, is able to
judge and arrange things in that subject and so is said to be
wise in it. But he who knows the First Cause of all things,
which is God, is said to be wise par excellence ; for he is able
to judge and arrange things according to divine rules. A wis-
dom of this kind, however, can only be given by the Holy
Spirit. "For the Spirit searcheth all things, even the deep
things of God." The merely psychic man, that is, he who, how-
ever clever and cultured, is without faith, cannot understand
the things of God, but the spiritual man judgeth all things.

Wisdom, therefore, in its highest perfection is something
over and above the acquired intellectual habit. The latter is
obtained by human effort ; the former comes down from above.
The one may concern itself with merely worldly affairs, the other
concerns itself with the things above, or with things below in
so far as they are related to their First Cause and their final
end which is above. Aristotle indeed seems to have had some
dim glimmer of this gift. He says that it is not good for those
who are moved by divine instinct to take counsel from human
reason, but that they should follow the internal instinct, for
they are moved by a better principle than human reason. St.
Thomas makes this vague suggestion explicit by reference to the
revealed word of God. In order to distinguish gifts from vir-

* Summ*, p. I. qu. Ixxix. a. 10. ad. ym.

i9o8.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 371

tues we ought to follow the fashion of speaking in Holy Scrip,
ture. There the question is treated, not however under the
name of " gifts," but under the name of " spirits." Isaias xi.
2, says: "And there shall rest upon him the spirit of wisdom
and understanding." From these words it is manifest that the
seven things there enumerated are in us by divine inspiration.
These perfections are called gifts, not only because they arc
infused by God, but also because by means of them man is
disposed to become promptly mobile by divine inspiration.
Thus Isaias again can say, 1. 4-5 : "The Lord hath given me a
learned tongue, that I should know how to uphold by word
him that is weary : He wakeneth in the morning, in the morn-
ing He wakeneth my ear, that I may hear Him as a Master.
The Lord God hath opened my ear, and I do not resist."

Wisdom, considered as an inspiration, implies, from its very
nature, action as well as contemplation. Hence we find St.
Thomas drawing the broad distinction between the Christian
and the pagan concepts. He says:

Since, however, wisdom is a knowledge of divine things,
it is considered in one way by us and in another way by the
philosophers. For, because our life is ordained to enjoy
God, and is directed according to a certain participation in
the divine nature, namely through grace, wisdom according
to us is not only considered as a means of knowing God, as
with the philosophers, but also as a means of directing human
life, which is ruled not merely by human reasons but by
divine reasons also.*

Wisdom then, in the Christian sense, is different from the
Aristotelian wisdom in its origin, in its character, and in its
effect. The intellectual virtue arises from a repetition of acts
of the intellect. The gift operates from a divine instinct.f
This does not mean, however, that because this higher wisdom
inclines a man to act spontaneously and, as it were, to take in
a difficult situation rapidly, that therefore it is a sort of blind
force working without the concurrence of man's reason. Wis-
dom of every kind sits enthroned in the reason. Folly is an
aberration of the intellect, and if wisdom is the opposite of
folly it must dwell in the intellect. Still, in so far as it is the
gift of the Holy Spirit, the will is the instrumental cause in its

• Summa. aa aae qu. xix. a. 7. corp, f S«m*i«, xa aae, qu. bmii. a. I. ad. <»-

3 ;a THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM [Dec.,

use. He who is possessed of it has a certain sympathy (ccn-
naturalitas) with those things about which he judges. One man,
for instance, may make a sound judgment in a question of chas-
tity through his knowledge of moral theology, whilst another
may make an equally sound, if not a better judgment on ac-
count of his chaste habits and of his intense interest in and
sympathy with chastity. This latter judgment is an implicit
act of the intellect, but it is the fruit of the action of the will,
for it is the effect of charity which has its seat in the will
Charity is the virtue by which the soul is most closely united
to God. Hence the most perfect wisdom, although it is an in-
tellectual quality, is said to be a certain taste for divine things,
for it is a habitual inclination to divine truth due to the influ-
ence of a grace-informed will.

And if, on the one hand, wisdom is to a large extent the
effect of holy living, on the other hand it is also a cause of
holy living. As a gift and as distinguished from the acquired
habit, it is concerned with practical life as well as with specu-
lative truth. " Walk with wisdom towards them that are with-
out," says St. Paul. In this respect, then, it is a disposition
of the practical as well as of the speculative intellect. In this
respect, too, then, it will take under its control the habits of
the practical intellect, namely prudence, art, and synderesis.
Synderesis is the habit of seeing evident moral principles just
as understanding sees mental principles. It sees without argu-
ment, for instance, that good must be done, that evil must be
avoided, that it is wrong to blaspheme and sinful to tell lies.
Art is the habit by which the conclusions of science are ap-
plied to life; and the most difficult branch of art is that in
which revealed truth is applied to the making of a saint.

Prudence is, in a sense, a species of wisdom. It is that
wisdom which, left to itself, prescinds from divine considera-
tions and deals only with human affairs, Manifestly, there-
fore, if the highest wisdom is that which directs the soul in
doing as well as thinking divine things, it must have under its
control the habits of the practical reason. And, since it is the
effect of charity, it is incompatible with mortal sin. Indeed a
state of grace necessarily connotes the presence in some de-
gree of the gift of wisdom. Nay more, the gift of wisdom
would seem to be proportioned to the degree of ore's charity.
Charity is the effect of God's love acting on the human will,

i9o8.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 373

and " God loveth none but him that dwelleth with wisdom."
Hence those who live merely by the rule of the command-
ments see just enough of divine things, and of divine rules for
human things, as is necessary for salvation. Those who take
the standard of the counsels of perfection have a still deeper
insight into the spiritual world. The saints are those who ex-
cel. Thus is it that the Blessed Margaret Mary can see deeply
into the truths of revelation; and thus is it that the Blessed
Cure d'Ars can see the bearing of divine truths on human
conduct. But all these things one and the same Spirit work-
eth, dividing to every one according as He will.

Wisdom then, in its Christian sense, looks two ways : it
looks backwards to the First Cause of things and it looks for-
ward to the Final Cause of things. It is both speculative and
practical. The combined habit and gift may now be regarded
as one disposition of the intellect. And the function of this
one disposition is to enable the mind to pass easily from im-
mediate causes to more remote causes, and again, from the
more remote causes to the one Ultimate Cause. How does it do
this? Well, first of all, it enables the mind to manipulate its
elementary habits of understanding and synderesis. In this
way the various first principles of the intellectual and moral
order are marshaled in array and put in a way so as to be at
the ready service of the higher habits of science and art.
The science of chemistry could not be built up unless we could
be sure of the principles of twice two being four, and of the
whole being greater than its part; nor could rules be laid
down for the guidance of the spiritual life unless we could be
sure of the first principles that good must be done and evil
avoided. Secondly, it enables the mind to manipulate the
speculative habit of science and the practical habit of. art.
Tnis ready manipulation consists in being able to reduce syl-
logisms to enthymemes and summarize reasoning processes.

In speaking of the enthymeme, I use it in the modern
sense of a syllogism with one of the premises suppressed and
Implied. Thus, in virtue of the scientific habit, I say: "This
angle is inscribed in a semicircle and therefore it is a right
angle." The habit saves me from the necessity of makirg the
major of the syllogism explicit. Or again, my rector ccmes
into my room and tells me that a certain priest in the diocese
is dead. I say I am sorry, take out my ordo and register an

374 THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM [Dec,,

intention for the next day's Mass. I do not begin to argue
and reflect that I have known my rector all these years, that
he has given many evidences of his trustworthiness, and there-
fore I will exercise my will and incline my intellect to con-
sent to the proposition that he is speaking the truth. The
habit of wisdom dispenses me from all that. Thus it is seen
to have another function, namely, that of conserving all those
previous acts of the will which have been exercised in the
search for and consent to truth ; of conserving all those past ex-
periences in virtue of which the will consented to such truths;
and of thus leaving the mind free and yet well- equipped to
choose out deeper truths and to utilize them in gaining richer
experience.

In the light of this doctrine of wisdom one can see the
shortsightedness of the methods of Professor James and Dr.
Schiller. The one by his PragmatisnVand the other by his Hu-
manism have been making ineffective attempts to return by a
short cut to the sapientia which hadlbeen lost by Protestant
Rationalism. In the all-absorbing occupation of tasting the
fruits of the tree of knowledge]they~have forgotten to cultivate
the roots. Consequently the fruits which they have gathered
are represented by a shrunken and deformed philosophy. Prag-
matism and Humanism give us only the morphology of experi-
ence, a purely static or anatomical analysis. Nay, since they
have had for their subject-matter such an infinitesimal portion
of experience, and that, at least in the case of Professor James,
drawn from the observance^ diseased specimens, the morphol-
ogy set up is, and must of necessity be, woefully untrue to
real healthy life.

The sapientia of St. Thomas, however, deals with the result
of man's whole experience. By the doctrine of the soul's sim-
plicity and unity all the functions of man are seen to partici-
pate in the work of the formation of wisdom. By the doctrine
of taking into account the supernatural as well as the natural,
that is by utilizing the gift as well as the habit of wisdom, huge
tracts of experience are dealt with which the rationalist and the
pragmatist could never dream of. By the doctrine of Catho-
licity, the experience of the whole Church, nay of the whole
race, can be brought into requisition. By the doctrine of a
Final Cause as well as a First Cause, a motive is provided which
urges the mind on through all the vastnesses of both its intel-

i9o8.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 375

lectual and practical spheres of operation. By the doctrine of
a First Cause as well as a Final Cause, the key is forged which
unlocks the knowledge to be used for future experience. Thus
is this sapientia at once a morphology, a physiology, a pathol-
ogy, and a therapeutic of experience. It is not static, but dy-
namic. True it is illumined and informed by a revealed truth
which never changes. But the degree in which the mind enters
into the apprehension of that truth is ever changing.

It is not static, but dynamic. This remark leads me to speak
of the relationship between the sophntia of St. Thomas and
the Illative Sense of Cardinal Newman. The sapientia^ consid-
ered under the combined aspect of habit and gift, has a more
extensive object-matter than the Illative Sense. The former
concerns both speculative and practical truth, whilst the latter
concerns speculative truth only. Again, if we limit the sapientia
to its bearing on speculative truth, and then compare it with
the Illative Sense, we find a further difference. It is not an
essential difference but only one ol aspect. It is precisely in
this difference, however, that the originality of Newman con-
sists. St. Thomas analyzes the origin and nature of the mind
in abstraction; Newman does the same in the concrete. It is
the question of universals. Now universals exist formally in
the mind and fundamentally in the thing. Consequently there
are two ways of looking at them. Considered as they exist in
the mind they are called logical universals ; considered as they
exist in the thing they are called fundamental universals. Each,
however, connotes the other. St. Thomas, in his scientific ac-
count of wisdom, uses logical universals; Newman, in his ac-
count of the Illative Sense, uses fundamental universals. " Sci-
tntia est de universalibus" says the one. "In this essay," says
the other, "I treat of propositions only in their bearing on
concrete matter." Nevertheless, the whole of St. Thomas' doc-
trine of moderate realism implies that his logical universals have
their counterparts in things, whilst Newman's doctrine of the
Illative Sense dealing with concretes implies corresponding uni-
versals in the mind. St. Thomas shows us the nature and ori-
gin of the habit and gift of wisdom; Newman shows us the
concrete working of it in the living human mind. And because
it is ordained for the enlarging and deepening of human ex-
perience ; because it enables the mind to find out the ultimate
reasons of things; because it carries down to the present active

376 THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM [Dec.,

moment a'll the mind's past experience, even though only a
part of that experience may present itself to explicit conscious-
ness ; and because it issues in an illation as to what truth must
be here and now embraced ; for all these reasons it is, there-
fore, dynamic and not static.

I have said that one of the functions of wisdom is to reduce
syllogisms to enthymemes and to summarize reasoning pro-
cesses. In this function the Illative Sense is identical with
wisdom. In enables the thinker to pass from the concrete to
the concrete by the aid of an implicit middle term too sub-
tle and too complex to admit of being rendered explicitly.
Hence an enthymeme is also called a rhetorical syllogism.
Hence the difference between Newman and St. Thomas and
between Newman's illative sense and St. Thomas1 sapientia.
Newman was a rhetorician in the true meaning of the word,
whilst St. Thomas was a logician in the true meaning of the
word, A true rhetorician is a psychologist who knows how to
appraise at their proper value the respective claims of intellect,
will, and feeling. A true logician is one who, in applying his
logic, pays due deference to psychology. Logic shows us how
to express our thoughts rightly; rhetoric how to impress them
rightly. And according as our chief aim is logic or rhetoric,
so shall we be drawn to the concept of the sapientia of St.
Thomas or to the Illative Sense of Newman.

Unusquisque in suo sensu abundet. Let him who cannot avail
himself of the doctrine of the Illative Sense turn to the doctrine of
the habit and gift of wisdom. Let him begin with the first ques-
tion of the first part of the Summa. There in the sixth article he
may read that although a man may judge in one way by cogni-
tion, as for instance when one instructed in moral science can
judge concerning acts of virtue, yet in another way he may judge
by inclination, as for instance when one who has the habit of a
virtue can judge rightly of those things to be done according to
that virtue; that the virtuous man is the measure and rule of hu-
man acts; that one can follow the Pseudo Denys in holding that
" Hierotheus is taught not only by learning but also by suffering
divine things." Then let him look up the word sapientia in
the index and carefully study the various articles there indi-
cated. He will eventually be led to recognize that the gift of
Wisdom is nothing less than the seventh beatitude. Peace is
the tranquility of order, and tranquility of order in the spirit-

i9o8.] THE HABIT AND GIFT OF WISDOM 377

aal life is the object of religious inquiry. To harmonize the
supposed conflict between faith and science, to justify God's
ways to men, to adjust the psychic order to the spiritual, this
is the office of the peacemaker, this is the function of wisdom.
He then who by contemplation cultivates this habit, and by
action strives to obtain an abundant measure of the gift, ren-
ders himself fit to deal with the religious problem. Not until
he has made some progress in this twofold growth can he hope
to enter upon the consideration of the fundamental issues of
life and religion with the faintest hope of fruitful effort. Con-
versely, he who does adopt this method is in a sure way of
obtaining his due measure of satisfaction. " Blessed are the
peacemakers." Thus are they made sharers in the likeness of
the begotten Wisdom of the Father, for "They shall be called
the sons of God." The acquired habit will enable them to see
ever more and more clearly the truths which God has revealed ;
the infused gift will tone up that habit to enable them not
only to see those truths still more clearly, but also to see their
bearing on the manifold intricacies of the spiritual life. But
since the gift is an effect as well as a cause of spiritual life —
for it is the fruit of charity and is kept in existence by the
action of a divinely moved will — then contemplation and action
are mutually dependent. He who will know of the doctrine
must do the Will. He who will come to the light must do the
truth.

The way of Holy Wisdom then is a hard way. It were in-
deed a hopeless quest did we not remember that our share in
it, in addition to being an acquired habit, is also a divine gift.
Thus then will Holy Wisdom deal with the elect soul. " She
will bring upon him fear, and dread, and trial; and She will
torture him with the tribulation of Her discipline, till She try
him by Her laws, and trust his soul. Then She will strengthen
him, and make Her way straight to him, and give him joy."

THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN.

BY ALFRED YOUNG. C.S.P.

THE following article is reprinted from THE CATHOLIC WORLD
of April, 1866, at the formal request of the Bishops and Priests of
the Alumni Association of St. Sulpice Seminary, Paris. St. Sul-
pice, which has been the nursery of so many distinguished church-
men, is a sample of the institutions which the present atheistical
French Government is endeavoring to destroy, or at least cripple,
by confiscating their property. Unlike the Paris property, it has
not as yet been "appropriated" by the government. Since the
writing of the article some changes have taken place in the build-
ings, but the life described ever retains its happy charm of an
earthly heaven. [EDITOR C. W.]

(HERE are some places in this world nearer to heaven
than others. I know of a place which I think is the
nearest. Whether you may think so I do not know,
but I would like you to see it and judge for yourself.
Please to go to France, then to Paris ; then take a
walk a little distance outside of the Barriere de Vaugirard, and you
will come to a small village called Issy. When you have walked
about five minutes along its narrow and straggling street, which id
the continuation of the Rue de Vaugirard, you will see on your left
a high, ugly stone wall, and if I did not ask you to pull the jangling
bell at the porter's lodge and enter, you might pass by and think
there was nothing worthy of your notice about the place.

You say you have not time to stop now, that you have an ap-
pointment to dine at the Hotel des Princes, in Paris, but that some
other time you will be most happy, etc. Wait a moment, perhaps I
may be able to show you something quite as good as a dinner, even
at the Hotel des Princes. Ring the bell. The sturdy oaken door
seems to open itself with a click. That is the way with French
doors ; but it is the porter's doing. When he hears the bell, he
pulls at a rope hanging in his lodge, which communicates with the
lock of the door. You are free to enter. Go in. But you cannot
pass beyond the porter's lodge without giving an account of your-
self. You cannot get into this heavenly place without passing
through the porter's review, any more than you can get into the real

i9o8.] THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN 379

heaven without passing the scrutiny of St. Peter. I hope you are
able to satisfy the " Eh ! b'en M'sieu' ? " of good old Pere Hanicq,
who is porter here. He is a ptrct you understand, by the title of
affection and respect, and not by virtue ot ordination. You may
not think it worth your while to be over humble and deferential in
your deportment towards porters as a general rule ; but I think you
may be so now ; for, if I do not mistake, you are speaking to a ven-
erable old man who will die in the odor of sanctity. Pere Hanicq
is not paid for his services, troublesome and arduous as you would
yery soon find his to be if you were porter even here. He is porter
for the love of God. You see he does not stop making the rosary,
which is yet unfinished in his hand, while he talks to you. He does
not iccompense himself by that business either, as shoemaker por-
ters, tailor porters, and the like eke out their scanty salaries ; but
it enables him to find some well-earned sous to give away to others
poorer than himself. You say this lodge is not a very comfortable
place, with its cold brick floor. It is not. Neither is that narrow
roost up the step-ladder a very luxurious bed. Right again, it is
not. But the P£re Hanicq is not over particular about these things.
Besides, he is not worse off in this respect than the hundred other
people who live in this place nearest to heaven. Indeed, most of
them have a much narrower and drearier apartment than his.

Now that you have said a pleasant word to the good old soul
(for he dearly loves a kindly salutation, and it is the only imperfec-
tion I think he has), you may pass the inner door, and you observe
that you are in a square courtyard, a three-story, irregularly shaped
building occupying two sides of it; stables and outhouses a third ;
and the street wall the fourth. Before you go further, I would ad-
vise you to look into one of those tumble-down looking outhouses.
It looks something like a rag and bottle shop. It is a shop, and
the Almoner of the poor keeps it. Here the residents of these build-
ings may find bargains in old odds and ends of second-hand, and it
may be seventy times seventh-hand furniture, either left or cast off
by former occupants. Here the Almoner— that voluble and sweet-
tempered young man in a long black cassock — disposes of these arti-
cles of trade, enhancing their value by all the superlatives he can
remember, for the benefit of certain old crones and hobbling crip-
ples, whom perhaps you saw on the right of the courtyard receiving
soup and other food from another young man in a long black cas-
sock, who is the Almoner's assistant. You don't know it, perhaps,
but I can tell you that the Almoner's assistant, as he ladles out the
soup and divides the bread and meat, is mentally going down on
his knees and kissing the ragged and worn-out clothes of these old
bodies whom he helps, for the sake oi Him whom they represent, and

38o THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN [Dec.,

who will one day say to him : " Because you did it unto the least of
these My brethren, you did it unto Me."

Now you may go into the house, after you have been struck
with the fact how completely that high stone wall shuts out the
noise of the street. You say, however, that you hear a band play-
Ing. Yes; that comes from an " Angel Guardian " house over the
way, like Father Haskin's house in Roxbury, Massachusetts (there
ought to be angels, you know, not far off from the nearest place to
heaven), where the "gamins," as the Parisians call them — the
" mudlarks," or " dock rats," as we call them — are taken care of,
fed, clothed, instructed, and taught an honest trade, also for the love
of Htm who will one day say to the Pere Bervanger and to Father
Haskins what I have before said about the Almoner's assistant.

Well, here is the house. This is the first story, half under-
ground on one side, and consequently a little damp and dingy.
Here to the right is the Prayer Hall. This has a wooden floor (a
rare exception), wooden seats fixed to the wainscoting, and here
tnd there a few benches made of plain oak slabs which look as if
they had lately come out of one of our backwoods saw-mills. A
large crucifix hangs on the wall, and a table is near the door, at
which the one who reads prayers kneels. The ninety-nine others
kneel down anywhere on the bare floor, without choosing the soitest
spot, if there be any such.

Those portraits hanging around the walls represent the superiors
of a community of men who are entrusted with the guardianship of
this place nearest to heaven. The most of those faces, as you see,
are not very handsome, as the world reckons handsome, but I as-
sure you they make up for that by the beauty of their souls. The
morning prayers are said here at half-past five the year round, fol-
lowed by a half-hour's meditation, and the evening prayers at half-
past eight. The hundred residents come here too just before dinner,
to read a chapter of the New Testament on their knees, devoutly
kissing the Word oi God before and after reading it; and then
each one silently reviews the last twenty-four hours, and enters into
account with himself to see how much he has advanced in that par-
ticular Christian virtue of which his soul stands the most in need.
It is a good preparation lor dinner, and I would advise you to try it,
even if you cannot do it on your knees. It is a perfect toilette for
the soul. Here also you will find the afore-mentioned hundred peo-
ple at halt past six o'clock, just before supper, listening to a short
reading on some spiritual subject, followed by a sort of conference
given by the Superior, or head of the house, so full of unction and
sweet counsel that it fairly lifts the heart above all earthly things,
and seems to hallow the very place where it is spoken.

1908.] THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN 381

Turn now to the left. That door in the corner opens into a
chapel dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi. Here the Pere Hanicq
and the few servants of the house hear Mass every morning, and be-
gin the day with the best thought I know of, the thought of God.
Keeping still to the left you pass into the Recreation Hall ; and if
this be recreation day, you will see congregated here the liveliest
and happiest set of faces that it has ever been your good fortune to
meet in this world. Billiards, backgammon, chess, checkers, and
other games more simple and amusing in their character, are here;
and I can tell you that they are like a group of merry children play-
ing and amusing themselves before their heavenly Father. You
might pass the recreation days here for many a year before you
would hear an angry word, or a cutting retort, or witness a jealous
irown or a sad countenance. Notice that smiling old gentleman
with a bald head capped by the black calotte. That is the Pere

T . He is very fond of a game of billiards, and I know he loves

to be on the winning side ; the principal reason of which, however,
you may not divine, but I know ; it gives him a chance to pass his
cue to some one who has been beaten, and obliged to retire. And
many learn by that good old father's example to do the same kind
and charitable act; and, take it all in all, I am inclined to think
this room is not much further off from heaven than many other
places about this dear old house.

Of course everybody is talking here, except the chess-players,
and at such a rate, that it is quite a din ; but, hark ! a bell rings:
all is instantly silent, the games are stopped, the very half- finished
sentence is clipped in two, and each one departs to some assigned
duty. They are taught that the bell which regulates their daily
exercises is the voice of God, and that when He calls there is noth-
ing else worthy of attention. I have no doubt they are right ; have
you?

There is one other place to visit on this ground floor, the Re-
fectory. A long stone- floored hall with two rows of tables on either
side, and one at the upper end where sits the head of the house, a
high old-fashioned pulpit on one side, the large crucifix on the wall,
and that is the Refectory. It looks dark and cold, and so it is;
dark, because the windows are small and high ; and cold, because
there is no stove or other heating apparatus — a want which may
also be felt in the other rooms you have visited ; and as the win-
dows are left open for air some time before these rooms are occu-
pied, it must be confessed there is a rarity and keenness about the
atmosphere, and a degree of temperature about the cold stores in
mid-winter, which are not pleasant to delicately nourished consti-
tutions. No conversation ever takes place in the Refectory except

«82 THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN [Dec.,

on recreation days, or on the occasion of a visit from the Arch-
bishop of Paris. At all other times there is reading going on from
the pulpit, either from the Holy Scripture or some religious book,
which enables the listeners to free their minds from too engrossing
an attention to the more sensual business of eating and drinking ;
not that their plain and frugal table ever presents very strong temp-
tations to gourmandize !

As you are American, and accustomed to your hot coffee or
strong English black tea, with toast, eggs, and beefsteak for bieak-
fast, I fear the meal which these hundred young men are making ofi
a little cold vin ordinaire^ well tempered with colder water, and dry
bread, during the short space of twelve minutes (except during Lent
and on other fast days, when they do not go to the Refectoiy at all
before twelve o'clock), will appear exceedingly frugal, not to say
hasty. You observe, doubtless, that, short as is the time allotted
to breakfast, nearly every one is reading in a book while he is eat-
ing. Do you wish to know the reason ? I will tell you. It is not
to pass away time, but to make use of every moment of time that
passes. None in the world are more alive to the shortness and the
value of time than the hundred young men before you. Every mo-
ment of the day has its own allotted duty ; and when there is an
extra moment, like this one at breakfast, when two things can be
done at once, they do not fail to make use of it. They take turns
with each other in the duty of waiting on the tables, except on
Good Friday, when the venerable Superior, and no less venerable
fathers, who are the teachers of these young men, don the apron,
and serve out the food proper in quantity and quality for that day.

Now that you have seen the first story, you may " mount," as
the French say, to the second. If you have not been here before, I
warn you to obtain a guide, or amidst the odd stairways and ram-
bling corridors you may lose your way. This is the chapel for the
daily Mass. It is both plain and clean, and you will possibly notice
nothing particular in it save the painted beams of the ceiling, the
only specimen of such ornament, I think, in the whole house. It is
there a long time, for this is a very ancient building, having once
been the country-seat of Queen Margaret of Anjou ; and this little
chapel may have been one of her royal reception-rooms for all you
or I know.

Hither, as I have said, come the young levites to assist at the
daily sacrifice. I believe I have not told you before that this is a
house of retreat irom the world—of prayer and of study for youthful
aspirants to the priesthood of the Holy Church. I do not know
what impression it makes upon you, but the sight of that kneeling
crowd of young men in their cassocks and winged surplices, al>

1908.] THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN 383

sorbed in prayer before the altar at the early dawn of day, when the
ray of the rising sun is just tinging the tops of the trees with a
golden light, and the open windows of the little chapel admit the
sound ot warbled music of birds, and the sweet perfumes from the
garden just below, enameled with flowers, is to me a scene higher
than earth often reveals to us of heaven's peace and rapt devotion in
God. Mass is over now, and you may go, leaving only those to
pray another half- hour who have this morning received the Holy
Communion.

All these rooms which you see here and there, to the right and
to the left, are the cells of the seminarians, about eight by fifteen
feet in size, and large enough for their purposes, though certainly
not equal to your cozy study at home in America, or to the grand
talon you have engaged at the H6tel des Princes. As you are a
visitor, perhaps you may go in and look at one. There is no visit-
ing each other's rooms among the young men themselves at any
time, save ior charity's sake when one is ill. An iron bedstead, with
a straw bed, a table, a chair, a crucifix, a vexing old clothes-press,
whose drawers won't open except by herculean efforts, and when
open have an equally stubborn fashion of refusing to be closed ; a
broom, a few books, paper, pen, and ink, a pious picture or statue,
and you have the full inventory of any of these rooms. As they need
no more, they have no more ; a rule of life that might make many a
one of us far happier than we are, tortured by the care of a thousand
and one things which consume our time, worry the mind, and are
not of the slightest possible utility to ourselves, and the cause, it
may be, of others' envy and discomfort.

I am aware that, as you pass along the corridors, you think it
is vacation time, or that every one is absent just now from their
rooms, all is so silent. But wait 'a moment. Ah ! the bell again.
Presto ! Every door flies open, and the corridor is alive with num-
bers of the young men going off to a class or to prayers. Now that
they are gone, suppose you peep into one of the rooms again ; that
is, if some newcomer, not yet having learned the rule to the con-
trary, has left the key in his door. Ah ! he was just writing as the
bell rang ; the pen is yet wet with ink. Pardon ! I do not intend
that you shall read what he has written, but you may see that he
has actually left his paper not only with an unfinished sentence, but
even at a halt- formed letter. That is obedience, my friend, to the
voice of God, which I have already told you is recognized in the
first stroke of that bell. I suppose you may read the inscription he
has placed at the foot of his crucifix, since it is in plain sight. '* I
sat down under the shadow of my Well-Beloved, whom I desired,
and His fruit was sweet to my palate" (Cant. ii. 3). Yes, you are

384 THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN [Dee.,

right. It is a good motto, for one who has sacrificed every worldly
enjoyment for the sake of that higher and purer joy, the love ot
Jesus crucified. You are noticing, I perceive, that everything looks
very neat and clean, that the bed is nicely made, and what there is,
Is in order. They have tidy housekeepers, you say, here. So they
have, and a large number of them, too — one to each room — the
seminarian himself.

I think you may "mount" another stairway now — when yon
find it — to the third story. I just wish you to step into that door on
the right. It is the Chapel of St. Joseph ; and if you happen to
enter here after night prayers you will see a few of the young men
kneeling before the altar, over which is a charming little painting
representing the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph holding the Child
Jesus by the hand. They come to pay a short visit in spirit to the
Holy Family before retiring to rest. " Beautiful thought ! " I be-
lieve you. I see your eyes are a little dimmed by tears. What is
the matter? "Oh! nothing; only I was thinking that by coming
up a few more steps in this house, one has mounted a good many
steps nearer heaven." Not ready to go? Oh! I understand, you
wish to pay a little visit yourself to the Holy Family. Good.
Now, along this corridor, around this corner, down that stairway
which seems to lead nowhere — take care of your head ! — through
those doors, and you are in a much larger chapel. All finished in
polished oak, as you see, with a bright waxed floor. The semi-
narians sit in those stalls which run along the whole length of either
side of the chapel. Here, on Sundays and festivals, they come to
celebrate the divine offices of the Church. I wish you could hear
them responding to each other in the solemn Gregorian chant.
Listen ; they are singing, and only to and ior the praise of God, for
no strangers are admitted, so there is no chance for the applause of
men. Possibly you may be sharp-eyed enough to note those mant-
ling cheeks and detect the thrill of emotion in their voices as the
swelling chorus fills the whole building with melody.

Truly, I wonder not that you are moved, for the song of praise
rises amid the clouds of grateful incense from chaste lips, and from
pure hearts given in the flower and springtime of life to God alone.
I can tell you, that whether their voices are singing the mournful
cadence of the Kyrie, the exultant sentences of the Gloria, the im-
posing chant of the Credo, the awe-struck exclamations of the Sanc-
tus, or the plaintive refrain of the Agnus Dei ; or whether they re-
spond in cheerful notes to the salutations of the sacrificing priest at
the altar, one other song their hearts are always singing here:
" Latatus sum in his qua dicta sunt mihi, in domum Domini ibimus "
-I was glad when they said unto me, we will go into the house of

J9o8.] THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN 385

the Lord. A heavenly joy is filling their ardent souls, moved by
the grace of the Holy Ghost, and is reflected from their counte-
nances as the sunlight sparkles on the ripples of a quiet, shaded
lake, when its waters are gently stirred by a passing zephyr wafted
from the wings of God's unseen angel of the winds.

Now you may go out into the garden. A charming esplanade
directly behind the house you have visited. Well-kept graveled
walks stretch here and there through a glittering parterre of flowers
of every hue and perfume. A pretty fountain sends its sparkling
drops into the air in the center of a basin stocked with goldfish,
which are very fond of being fed with breadcrumbs from the hand

of saintly old Father C . You do not know the Pere C , you

say ? Then you may envy me. I know him. Shall I tell you what
he said to me one day ?

11 Tenez, mon cher, on doit prier le Bon Dieu toujours selon le
premier mot de I' office de None, ' MirabiliaJ et non pas selo?i le premier
mot de Tierce, * Lege m pone. ' " God bless his dear old white head !
it makes my heart leap in my bosom to think oi him. Where were
you ? Oh ! yes, beside the fountain. On each side of the garden is
an avenue of trees, and in one corner a little maze, hiding a pretty
statue of the Blessed Virgin, at whose feet that Almoner of the poor
has placed a little charity-box, thinking doubtless, and not without
reason, that here, hidden by the trees and close shrubbery, some
one, you for instance, might like to do something with a holy secre-
cy which shall one day find its reward from the Heavenly Father of
the poor, openly. So I will just turn my head while you put in a
donation fitting for an American who has a suite of rooms at the
H6tel des Princes. I know you are loth to leave this pretty spot.
I have had equal difficulty in dragging you away from the other
places to which I directed your steps ; but you have not seen all.
Come along. Cross the garden. Here, behind the large chapel, is
a curious grotto all inlaid with shells — floor, walls, and roof. This
is the place where Bossuet, Fenelon, and Mr. Tronson held some
conferences about a theological subject which need not take up your
time now. Turn up that winding walk to the left, and you see a
little shrine dedicated to our L,ady, to which the young men go to
celebrate the month of May ; and it is a quiet little nook where one
may drop in a moment and forget the world. The world is not
worth remembering all the time, you know. As you pass to the
middle of the garden again you notice a long archway, built under
a high wall. Before you enter it please first notice that fine terra-
cotta statue of the Virgin and Child near it, and take off your hat in
passing, as all do here. This archway passes under a road, which
is screened from view by high walls on either side, which also pre-

VOL. LXXXVIII. — 25

386 THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN [Dec.,

vent the grounds you are in from being seen from the road. I have
often thought about that high-walled road running through the
middle of this place nearest to heaven. How many of us pass along
our way ot life, stony, toilsome, dry, and dusty, like this road, and
are often nearer heaven and heavenly company than we think ; and
how many others there are we know and love, whose road runs
close beside, if not at times directly through the Paradise of the
Church of God on earth, and know it not. Oh! if they did but
once suspect it, how quickly would they leap over the wall !

Now you are through the archway. Directly before you is a
magnificent avenue of trees, all trimmed and clipped as it pleases
this methodical people, and here is a fine place for a walk in recrea-
tion. The seminarians recreate themselves, as they do all other
acts, as a duty and by rule. One hour and a quarter after dinner,
ten minutes at half-past four, and an hour and a half after supper
appears to suffice, although I am afraid it is rather a short allow-
ance. Silence is the rule during the other twenty-one hours out oi
the twenty-four, and broken only by duty or necessity. How do
you like it ? Be assured it is profitable to those who are desirous of
living near to God. Recollect what Thomas a Kempis says in his
Imitation of Christ : " In silentio et quiete prcfidt anima devota " — In
silence and quiet the devout soul makes great progress. You
observe also that the reverend teachers of these young men are
taking recreation with them. Yes ; and in this as in every other
duty of this life of prayer and of study they subject themselves to
the same rule that they impose on others. Example, example, my
friend, is the master teacher, and succeeds where words cannot.
They have learned beforehand in their own school the lessons of
chastity, obedience, poverty, patience, meekness, humility, and
charity, of silence, and every other Christian mortification of our
wayward senses which they are called upon to teach here. They
have a novitiate adjoining this house, called the *' Solitude," and
their motto is inscribed over the little portal in the stone wall
which separates the two enclosures. This is it : " O beata Sol-
itudo ! O sola Beatitudo / " There is a short sentence, my friend,
which will serve as a subject of meditation for you for a longer time
than you imagine.

Look at the Pere M , the reverend superior. What gen-
tleness of soul beams from that kindly countenance ! It makes one

think of St. Philip Neri. Ah ! and there is the Pere P , with a

face like St. Vincent of Paul, and a body like nobody's but his own,
all deformed as it is by rheumatism. I don't ask you to kiss the
hem of his cassock for reverence sake, for that might wound hid
humility, and he might moreover knock you down with his crooked

I908.J

THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN

387

elbow ; but if you could see what place the angels are getting ready
for him up in heaven, I think you would wifch to do so. And all the
others, old or young — bowed with age or strong of arm and firm in
step — you will find but little difference in them. They are all cast
in about the same mold, of a shape which only a life, and a pur-
pose of life such as theirs could form. You would like to know
what that young man is about, would you, running from one knot of
talkers and walkers to another, saluting them, and saying some-
thing to e*ach ? Listen : he is repeating the password of the house.
The password ? Even so. And is it secret ? Yes, and a secret, too.
It is the secret of a holy life, the holy life to be led here, and not to
be forgotten, where it is the most likely to be, in the dissipation of
recreation. Lay it up to heart, for it will do you good: "Mes-
sieurs, Sursum corda ! ' '

This building on your right as you come out of the archway is a
ball-court. If you will step into the "cuisine," as a sort of wire
cage is called, in which you can see without being in the way, and
the irregular roof of which serves admirably to cause the ball to come
down crooked, and " hard to take," you may see some good ball-
playing ; and if you know anything about the game, I am sure all
will offer at once to vacate their places and give up the pleasure of
playing to please you. Somehow, these seminarians are always
seeking to please some one else. Fraternal charity, which prefers
the happiness of others to its own, is cultivated here to such a de-
gree, that I tell you again you will not find a place nearer heaven,
where charity is made perfect and consummated in God.

Turn down now to the left for a few steps, and look to the right.
Another beautiful avenue. The trees branching from the ground
rise up and mingle together on all sides so as to form a complete
arch. A building at the end. Yes; that is the place of all places in
this lovely enclosure the most venerated by all who come to pass a
part of their lives in dear old Issy. It is the Chapel of Loreto.
Walk up the avenue and examine it. It has a facade, as you see,
of strict architectural taste. I know that you, being an American,
would very soon scrape the weather-beaten stones, paint up the
wood-work, and put a new and more elegant window in front, if you
were in charge. Perhaps it might improve it, perhaps not, Stand-
ing as it does alone, out there in the midst of extensive^ grounds,
it makes you think of the Holy House of Loreto in Italy, of which
you know something, I suppose, and of which, indeed, the little
chapel inside is an exact copy, and hence has obtained its name.
Let me say a word about it before you go in, for no one is expected
to break the religious silence which the young levites here are
taught should reign about the tabernacle where reposes the sacred

388 THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN [Dec.,

and hidden presence of Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist. It is
this chapel, especially dedicated to His own dear and blessed
Mother, that they have chosen for His dwelling-place among them,
as her home at Nazareth was also His. It is what you might ex-
pect. The Mother and the Son go together. A childlike and
tender devotion to her whom He chose for the human source of His
incarnate life, through which we are elevated and born anew unto
God, cannot be separated from the profound act of adoration which
humanity, nay, all creation, must pay to Him who is her Son, the
first-born of all creatures. His mysterious incarnate presence is
with us always in the Holy Eucharist, and will be, as He promised,
unto the consummation of the world ; and the priest, by the power
of His own divine word, is its human source. You remember the
saying of St. Augustine: " O venerable dignity of the priest, in
whose hands, as in the womb of the Virgin, the Son of God is in-
carnate every day ! "

Enter. On the wall to your left, just inside the outer door, you
see this inscription :

" Hie Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis." *

On the wall, directly opposite, this :

" Sta venerabundus,
Qui aliunde ut stares veneris,
Lauretanam Deiparae domum admiraturus.

Angusta tota est.
Toto tamen Christiano orbe angusto,

FACTUS EST HOMO.

Abbreviatum igilur aeterni patris verbum

Hocce in angulo, cum angelis adora ;

Silet hie et loquaci silentio:
Beatae quippe virginis matris sinus,

Cathedra docentis est.

Audi verbum absconditum, et quid sibi velit attende.
Venerare domum filii he-minis,
Scholam Christi,
Cunabula Verbi." t

The door on the right leads into the sacristry, where the priest
puts on his vestments. On the panel of this door you read :

" Sanctificamini omnes ministri altaris.
Munda sint omnia." \

* "Here the Word was made flesh, and dwelt amongst us,"

t " Stand in awe, ye who have come hither from afar to admire the Loreto house of th«
Mother of God. The whole is but narrow and strait : however, the whole Christian world it
but narrow in which the God made man suffered straitness. Wherefore, adore with the angela
the straitened word of the Eternal Father. "He is silent here, but with an eloquent silence.
For the bosom of the Blessed Virgin Mother is the seat of Wisdom. Hear the Hidden Word,
and listen attentively to what He wills of thee. Venerate the house of the Son of Man, tb«
school of Christ, the cradle of the Word."

I " Be ye holy, all ye ministers of the altar. Let all things be pure and clean."

i9o8.j THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN 389

On the wall over the door is this inscription around a heart :

" Quid volo nisi ut ardeat ? " — S. Luke xii. 49.*

Opposite the sacristy door is the door of the chapel, but I wish
you to read the other inscriptions on these walls before you enter
there. There are two more in this entry-way :

11 Hie Maria, Patris Sponsa, de Spiritu Sancto concepit." t

"Sile;
Hue, enim, dum omnia

silerent,
Omnipotens sermo

de regalibus

sedibus advenit ;

Vel aeternum aeterni

Patris Verbum

Siluit ;
Vel otioso Deum adorat silentio."t

In an adjoining room are several others, among which I think
the following are worthy of your notice :

" Signum magnum apparuitin terra.
Amabile commercium, admirabile mysterium, ,

JESUS VIVENS IiN MARIA.
VENITE, VIDETE, ADORATE.

VENITE
Ad templum Domini, ad incarnationis verbi-

cubiculum,

Ad sanctuarium in quo habitat Dominus.
Et de quo, ut sponsus, procedit de thalamo suo.

VIDETE

Ancillam, Patris sponsam, Virginem Dei matrem,

Adae filiam, Spiritus Sancti sacellum,

Mariam totius Trinitatis domicilium,

Angelo nuntiante effectam.

ADORATE

Jesum habitantem in Matre,
Ut imperatorem in regno, ut pontificem in templo,

Ut sponsum in thalamo.

Hie requies, hie gloria, hie summa laus conditoris :
Hie habitabo quoniam elegi earn." $

* " What will I, but that it burn ? "

t " Here Mary, the spouse of the Father, conceived of the Holy Ghost."

\ " Keep silence ; for hither, while all things were in silence, the Almighty Word leapt
down from heaven from His royal throne. Here the Eternal Word of the Eternal Father be-
came silent, and adores God in tranquil silence."

$ " A great sign appeared on the earth, a lovely union, a wondrous mystery, Jesus living
in Mary. Come, see, adore. Come to the temple of the Lord, to the cradle of the Incarnate
Word, to the sanctuary in which the Lord dwelleth. From which He goeth forth as a spouse
from his bridal chamber. See, by the annunciation of the angel, a handmaiden made spouse
of the Father, a virgin the Mother of God, a daughter of Adam the shrine of the Holy Ghost,
Mary, the resting-place of the whole Trinity. Adore Jesus dwelling in His Mother, as an
tmperor on his throne, as a priest in the temple, as a spouse in his chamber. Here is th«
rest, here the glory, here the supreme praise of the Creator. Here will I dwell, because I
hare chosen her."

390 THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN [Dec.,

"Omnes " Hic

Famelici. accedite Fons Fontium,

adescas; Et acervus tritici,

Domus hoec abundat CHRIST US,

Panibus." * Unde sumunt angeli,

Replentur sancti,

Satiantur universi.
Snpientia p^jc

Miscuit Vinum, Ager fertnis

Posuit mensam, Et congregatio aquarum,
Paravit om/iia. MARIA

°-ui bibunt' Unde, velut de quodam
Non sitient amplius ; Divinitatis oceano,

°-ui edunt' Omnium emanant

Nunquam esurient ; Flumina gratiamm/. $

Qui epulantur,

Vivent in aeternum. «• Si

Bibite ergo et inebriamini, Tu es Christi bonus odor,

Comedite et saturabimini ; Accede ;

Effundite cum gaudio animas vestras Caminus M arise

In voce confessionis et epulationis Altare thymiamatum est,

Sonus est epulantis." t Caminus charitatis,

„ Qmnes Cujus ostium

Sitentes, venite Hostes non exciPit-

ad aquas ; Sed hostias amoris.

Locus iste scaturit Huc vota huc corda- viatores«
Fontibus."* Hucpectora."ti

Before you look at the real chapel for which this building was
erected, just step out of that door opposite to the one by which you
entered. A little cemetery. Here repose, in simple, humble graves,
the bodies of the deceased superiors and directors of the congrega-
tion of St. Sulpice, in whom and whose seminary you have shown
so much interest during this visit under the guidance of your
humble servant. Here, in this little cemetery, beneath the shadow
of the sacred chapel they have loved so well, in the very home, as it
were, where so many holy souls have lived, and learned the lessons
of perfection, and where, God grant, many more such may yet live
and learn the same, they have laid themselves down to rest from
their labors, peacefully resigning themselves to the common fate ;

* " O all ye of the family of God, draw near to the banquet. This house is full of bread."
t " Here the divine wisdom mingleth her wine, spreadeth her table, and maketh all things
ready. 1 hey who drink shall not thirst any more. 1 hey who eat shall never hunger. They
who feast shall live forever. Drink, therefore, and be inebriated. Eat and be filled. Pour
forth your souls with joy in the songs of thanksgiving and rejoicing. There is a sound as of
one feasting."

\ " All ye who thirst, come ye to the waters. This place gushes with fountains."
$" Here is the fount of fountains, and heap of wheat, Christ; of which the angels partake,
the saints are replenished, and the whole universe is satiated. Here is the fruitful field and
meeting of the waters, Mary ; whence, as from a kind of ocean of divinity, flow out the streams
of all graces."

|| " If thou art the good odor of Christ, ^raw near. This chamber of Mary is the altar of
incense, the home of charity, whose door receiveth not enemies, but the victims of love.
Hither, ye wayfarers, bring your vows, your hearts, and your affections."

1908.] THE NEAREST PLACE TO HEAVEN 391

yet privileged in this, that their dust mingles with earth hallowed
by the footsteps of saints. I should like to write an inscription for
the door of that cemetery. It is this : " Bt mors, et vita vestra ab-
sconditae sunt cum Christo in Deo," for never in the history of
Christianity, do I think, have men realized like them, in their
lives and in their death, so fully those words of St. Paul.

Return now to the entry and pass within those gilded doors.
This is the chapel. The walls are frescoed, as you see, and in imi-
tation of the walls, now defaced, of the original chapel at Loreto.
There is a pretty marble altar and tabernacle where reposes the
Holy ot Holies ; and above the altar is a grating filling up the en-
tire width of the chapel, on which are attached a large number of
silver and gilt hearts, little remembrances left by the departing
seminarians at their beloved shrine of Jesus and Mary. Bthind the
grate you can discern the statue made many hundred years ago, and
sent to this chapel as a gift from the Holy House at Loreto in 1855.
I know that your American taste will not be gratified by the appear-
ance of either the statue or its decorations ; but — America is not all
the world. Keep that in mind, and it may save you a good deal of
interior discomfort, whether you journey in other lands, or never
stir from home.

Now I leave you, for I know you are tired of sight-seeing and
want a moment of repose — and, may I not also add, a little time to
pray here? The seminarians are coming in to make their daily
visit, for it is a quarter to five o'clock. Oh ! sweetest moments of
the Issian's day ! Here he comes and kneels at the feet of Jesus
and Mary, and drinks in those silent lessons which reveal truths to
the heart that no man can teach. Here the soul is ravished away for
a while from earth and all its carking cares, anxieties, temptations,
and afflictions, and reposes peacefully in the loving embrace of its
God. "Here," indeed, "is the home of charity, whose door re-
ceiveth not enemies, but the victims of love. Hither you may bring
your vows, your hearts, and your affections." Remain you, then,
and pray awhile with them ; for of a truth you are with the congre-
gation of the just, and not far off from heaven.

flew Boohs,

•

Four new numbers of the St. Nich-
THE ST. NICHOLAS SERIES, olas Series introduce to the young

reader, in very attractive form, the

stories of personages who, though the parts which they played
and the stages on which they played them, were widely diverse,
yet were united by one common trait — active devotion to the
Church of Christ.

The first volume is a biography of Vittorino da Feltre,*
a name which, though it belongs to the Middle Ages, is men-
tioned with respect by our modern students of pedagogy.
Rather an unpromising subject for a book to entertain young
people, you will, perhaps, say. True, but the biographer has
something of the deftness of her hero, the Italian priest who
could succeed in coaxing his little pupils of six and seven to
begin the study of Latin, Greek, and Mathematics almost un-
awares.

Nevertheless, we doubt if this volume will become as great
a favorite as some of the others, where the theme is more full
of action and brilliant color ; as, for instance, the life of St.
Thomas of Canterbury. f Father Benson has spared no pains
to put the scenes of the great Churchman's life vividly before
us. He draws a lively picture of some phases of Norman Lon-
don, and of the pomp and parade which surrounded the mag-
nates of Church and State; and enlivens the narrative with
picturesque details that will impress the reader with the feeling
that he is witnessing real events and observing real men, in
contrast with the dry abstractions of his historical text- book.

The Man's Hands $ is a story of the Tower of London and
Father Southwell. It, as well as the two others which make
up the volume, are largely fanciful, with just a thread or two
of historical fact running through them ; and the author an-
nounces that they are offered as mere stories, and, in no sense,
hagiography.

* Vittorino da Feltre: A Prince of Teachers. By a Sister of Notre Dame. New York :
Benziger Brothers.

t 7 he Holy Blissful Martyr, St. Thomas of Canterbury. By Robert Hugh Benson. New
York : Benziger Brothers.

\ The MOM'S Hands; and Other Stories. By R. P. Garrold, S.J. New York: Benziger
Brothers.

1908.] &EW BOOKS 393

The fourth volume * is both fact and hagiography ; for the
South American statesman, Garcia Moreno, lived the life of a
saint and died a martyr to the cause of religion. It is incred-
ible how little is known by Catholics of education, here in
America as elsewhere, of this noble man who lived in our own
times and whose life is perhaps the solitary instance in the
nineteenth century of a popular leader and statesman who
faithfully loved and served the Catholic Church, and made the
interests of religion his paramount concern. His career is told
somewhat briefly, as the scope of the series dictated ; but Mrs.
Maxwell-Scott has given a clear account of the complicated
course of events in Ecuador during Garcia's public career, and
of the great results he achieved in spite of the infidel opposi-
tion which finally compassed his death.

A sumptuous edition of Father Brid-

THE HOLY EUCHARIST IN gett's well known history of the
GREAT BRITAIN. Holy Eucharist in Great Britain

has been issued as a monument of

the recent Eucharistic Congress in London. This edition f is
a large folio, in the same opulent type as was used in the
printing of Father Ricaby's translation of St. Thomas' Con-
tra Gentiles. Father Brid gett's work is deserving of association
with the great historical reaffirmation on English soil of the
doctrine of the Eucharist. It demonstrates with inevitable force
that "for a thousand years the races that successively pecpkd
the island regarded the celebration of this Sacrament as the
central rite of their religion, the principal means of divine wor-
ship, the principal channel of divine grace." It is needless to
recall the scope of Father Bridgett's task. It was to show, on
the principle of " By their fruits ye shall know them," that the
part played in English religious life, by the Holy Sacrifice,
Holy Communion, and the Real Presence in the Tabernacle,
proved the truth of the Catholic doctrine and the divine effi-
cacy of the Blessed Sacrament. The editors have taken advan-
tage of an avowal made by the author that "to become pop-
ular the book must be recast." There is a considerable rear-
rangement of the matter; and information which has come to

* Gabriel Garcia Moreno, Regenerator of Ecuador. By the Hon. Mrs. Maxwell-Scott.
New York : Benziger Brothers.

\A History of the Holy Eucharist in Great Britain. By T. E. Bridgett, C.SS.R. With
Notes by H. Tkurston, S. J. St. Louis : B. Herder.

394 NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

light since the book was first written has been utilized. This
part of the editorial work has been done by Father Thurston,
and is to be seen in copious notes throughout the volume.
Apart from its apologetic worth the book is a fount of piety
towards the Blessed Eucharist; and also, from the merely his-
torical point of view, is highly interesting as a record of English
religious life, in which prevailed many quaint customs that have
disappeared forever.

A more correct title for this vol-

ALABAMA. ume* would be a history of Cath-

olicism in, etc. The work does

not profess to be written along the lines of critical history. It
is a compilation of materials taken from all sorts of sources,
without discrimination or any attempt to weigh the quality of
the evidence or the value and import of events; footnotes are
rare and charmingly unsystematic; and one is surprised fre-
quently on being told impressively about something or another
quite irrelevant to the subject, or something that everybody
knows. For instance, the fact that M. Joly's Life of St. Teresa
bears the imprimatur of Cardinal Vaughan ; that the present
rector of the Irish College in Salamanca has been decorated
with the highest marks of distinction that it is in the power of
the Spanish sovereign to bestow ; that the charter of Trinity
College, Dublin, proves it to have been founded as an engine
of proselytism ; and many other equally irrelevant matters are
not only introduced in the text, but also figure in the table of
contents, which, by the way, occupies eighteen pages. Perhaps
an idea of the desultory character of this book will be gained
by indicating the nature of three of the chapters at the close.
The last but two consists of a story related of the explorer
De Luna, illustrating his lively faith ; the second last relates
the establishment of the Visitation Order in Mobile, ard gives
a list of their most conspicuous benefactors; while the last,
after noting the grant of the indulgence of Portiuncula to the
chapel of the Ursuline convent of New Orleans, furnishes a
lengthy description of the crowns on two of the statues in the
chapel, and winds up with a list of the author's works, includ-
ing a second volume (in preparation) of the present history.
It would be very easy, and a pleasanter task than that of point-

* A Catholic History oj Alabama and the Floridas. By a Member of the Order of Merey.
Vol. I. New York : P. J. Kenedy.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 395

ing out defects, to make this present notice a string of empty
compliments to the amiable writer. It is a more kindly service
to tell the truth, in the hope that she may profit by it to make
the second volume more worthy of the name of history.

One of the most active promoters
WOMEN IN SOCIAL WORK, of the movement to enlist Catholic

women in the work of social ser-
vice, Mrs. Virginia M. Crawford, publishes a little volume * of a
thoroughly practical character, discussing some of the methods
by which efficient work for the amelioration of the poor may
be done. In England and France, at least, Catholic women are
beginning to stir themselves to take away our reproach that in
the cause of charitable work non- Catholics have left us far be-
hind. It is no longer a sufficient answer to this charge to point
out the great army of Catholic women, who in the various re-
ligious orders have devoted their lives to the service of the
poor and the suffering. Their unmeasured generosity does not
cover the shortcomings of their sisters in the world who, for
want of initiative or for want of authoritative prompting, take
no personal interest in the relief of those who are suffering
from the injustices of our social system. This charge Mrs. Craw-
ford acknowledges to be true.

It is in the wider sphere of educational and social activity,
in all that is conveniently summed up in the phrase social
service, that the Catholic women have, as yet, failed to fill the
place that should be ours by right. We have an undeveloped
civic sense and a very partial realization of the responsibili-
ties laid upon us by worldly advantages. Generous and
warm-hearted women, who are ready to give themselves and
their money for the relief of distress, still fail to realize the
need for studying the problems of the day in the light of
sound Catholic principles.

"These principles," she observes, "may be found in the
Encyclicals of Leo XIII." Why do Catholic women fail to
claim their birthright? The reasons for their apathy, as they
appear to Mrs. Crawford, are that,

filled with vague apprehension at the social changes in prog-
~ess around us, they withdraw ostentatiously from all partici-

* Ideals of Charity. By Virginia M. Crawford. St. Louis : B. Herder.

NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

pation in what appears to them as the dangerous tendencies
of the times. Others, again, live so wholly in a little domes-
tic world of their own contriving, and are so out of touch with
the broader issues of life, that the struggle and temptations of
women less happily circumstanced than themselves leaves
them lamentably callous. In a word, we all have a great deal
still to learn.

The latter reason would, probably, be offered by any one
competent to appreciate the situation to account for the fact
that in our own country, generally speaking, in social service
Catholic women are nowhere. A perusal of Mrs. Crawford's
little book could hardly fail to stir up in the heart of any
Catholic woman, in a position to help her less fortunate sis-
ters, a desire to be up and doing. Among the subjects dis-
cussed are: How and Where to Train; The Need for Co-op-
eration; Co-operation with non-Catholics; Mothers' Meetings;
Children's Holidays; Should Married Women Work? Girl
Mothers ; Retreats ; Home Work ; and one or two others re-
lating to specially English conditions.

In France the Catholic feminist movement goes on apace.
In all the great centers of the country the Catholic wouvement
feminist is growing in extent and in the systematic character
of its organization. Many brilliant writers have devoted their
pens to its promotion. Among these is Paul Acker, who has
a high reputation as a novelist. Some years ago the late M.
Brunetiere, editor of the Revue des deux Mondes, requested M.
Acker to contribute to that periodical some articles on woman's
work in social service. M. Acker complied, and wrote some
brilliant papers that are now published in book form.* He re-
views what has been done abroad, chiefly in England, to afford
suggestion to his compatriots; and gives an account of the fa-
mous work done by Mile. Gahery and Mile. Chaptal ; and by
the French and the Lyonese Syndicats. With the instinct of
the novelist M. Acker runs into the psychological aspect of
women's trials and burdens; and gives us some lively pages
of description. He closes by relating how, some time ago, a
stranger of note assisted at a brilliant reception in Paris. After
watching the gorgeous display of dress and listening to the
witty, frivolous conversation of the ladies, he smilingly insinu-

• CEuvres SociaUs des Femmes. Par Paul Acker. Paris : Plon Nourret et Cie.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 397

ated to his hostess that he saw here an example of the pro-
verbial frivolity of the Parisienne. She replied by recounting
to him how several of her guests had been employed in the
forenoon. One had been superintending a dispensary for con-
sumptives; another had been taking care of laborers' children;
a third had been at a social settlement, answering to the vari-
ous demands made for moral and material help. M. Acker says:

This stranger had entertained about Frenchwomen, and
particularly Parisians, the opinion which most strangers hold.
It is, indeed, irritating that we are so imperfectly known be-
yond our own frontiers. The fault, doubtless, is with our-
selves. We desire that others should praise the somewhat
exterior qualities of our race, its wit, its grace, its elegance,
its sprightliness, its easy scepticism, its politeness, qualities
which have scarcely any result beyond making society agree-
able ; and we hide, as if we were a little ashamed of them,
our more solid qualities, to which we owe our existence and
endurance. To show oneself as one is is not vanity ; it is only
to have a just sense of one's worth, and to wish that others
should have it also. Let the Frenchwoman be always the
queen of the world ; I would have her retain this lovable roy-
alty ; but she is something else besides, especially during the
many years past when she has devoted herself to fruitful work
in social amelioration ; and this truth we must not permit to
be ignored.

M. Acker does not neglect a very potent means of winning
his countrywomen's sympathies in favor of the interest which
he advocates.

The contrast between the ignor-

CONCORDANCE OF THE ance of the Bible displayed among
HOLY SCRIPTURE. the present generation of Protest-

ants and the familiar acquaintance

with it which their fathers possessed has been frequently a sub-
ject of piquant public comment. Is this change to be witnessed
exclusively in Protestant circles? Do we find now-a-days the
same knowledge of the Bible exhibited in our own pulpits as
formerly ? How many of our preachers display a preoccupa-
tion to strengthen their discourses by habitually clothing their
thoughts in the language of Scripture, which, as Leo XIII.

398 NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

says, " gives authority to the sacred orator, fills him with apos-
tolic liberty of speech, and communicates force and power to
his eloquence"? Without venturing to answer this ticklish
question we may, instead, make the trite but indisputable re-
mark that only the preacher who has a first-hand knowledge
of the Bible itself can draw from it, in full measure, the match-
less aids which it supplies for effective preaching. The best
supplement for a deficiency of this first-hand knowledge is a
good concordance ; not of the type of Cruden's or Dutripon's,
which are chiefly serviceable to locate some remembered or
half -remembered text; but one to provide a wealth of texts
under appropriate headings.

The Divine Armory , of Father Vaughan, has been the only
English work of this kind that we possessed. And it, though
in many respects admirable, is, in almost as many others, un-
satisfactory and disappointing. The volume just produced by
Father Williams* is destined, we believe, to prove a greater
favorite. The titles are more numerous and better chosen ; and
the arrangement is more favorable to easy and rapid consulta-
tion. The texts under each heading, generally speaking, con-
tain the leading word of the caption; so that the book serves,
to a considerable extent, the purpose of the complete, systematic
concordance. It is divided into two parts which are entitled,
rather infelicitously, Moral and Doctrinal. This division im-
plies that there exists an antithesis between the moral and the
doctrinal. But is not the moral teaching of the Church also
doctrine, just as well as is her teaching concerning the truths
of faith ? The first part is much the larger and more com-
plete of the two, taking up over six hundred of the eight hun-
dred odd pages in the book. The dogmatic section is some-
what meager, both in the number of topics, and, with a few
exceptions, in the array of texts. There is also an appendix
containing examples of just men, and of the punishment of
the unjust; a synoptic arrangement of the several accounts of
Christ's miracles, His parables, and His prophecies. Preachers
have to thank the author for having provided them with an in-
valuable aid to the fruitful discharge of their office. The bind-
ing of the book is too flimsy for one of its size; and it will
not long resist the wear and tear of constant use.

* A Textual Concordance of Holy Scripture, Arranged especially for the use of Preachiag.
By Rev. Thomas D. Williams. New York : Benziger Brothers.

i9o8.] NEW BOOKS 399

While many histories of the En-

THE ENGLISH MARTYRS, glish martyrs under Queen Eliza-
beth have been issued in various

other languages as well as English, now only is it possible to
obtain a copy of the work which has been fitly called the
germ of them all. This history is the one composed by Cardi-
nal Allen, a contemporary of the martyrs. It was published
shortly after its composition, but every copy has long since
disappeared, with the exception of one which for generations
has lain unnoticed and forgotten in the British Museum. From
that copy a new edition is now issued under the editorship of
Father Pollen, S. J.* It was widely known through a Latin
translation which was published in 1583, and enlarged by ad-
ditions from other pens. Until the publication of Cardinal
Allen's letters, says the editor, no one knew that he had writ-
ten it. " It was not ascribed to him by Simpson or Gillow, or
the British Museum Catalogue, where it was practically buried
under the heading, 'Catholic Faith.'" This story of the En-
glish champions of the faith will sustain comparison with any
other version that is extant. The style is simple, but singu-
larly forceful and warm. Allen allows his eyewitnesses to tell
their own tale in conversational phrase of Tudor English. An
eminent critic of two centuries ago, a period when it was not
prudent to praise publicly in England anything Catholic, called
the history " a princely, grave, and flourishing piece of exquis-
ite natural English." As a specimen of it we may quote the
brief account of Father Campion's execution:

The morning that he was brought forth to dye, he met with
M. Sherwin and M. Brian, expecting his coming in Coul-
harbar, where there passed much sweet speech and embrasing
one of another ; all which when M. Lieutenant sought for F.
Campion's buffe ierkine, meaning if he could have found it,
for the more disgrace of the man of God, to have executed him
in it ; so base is the despiteful malice of such, who with all
the persecutors of God's sainctes shall be doonge and dirt,
when these men shall be gloriouse in heaven and earth.
When he was brought furthe among the people he said
alowde, " God save you, God bless you all and make you
Catholikes." And so was carried away to the ordinarie

* A Brief History of the Glorious Martyrdom of Twelve Reverend Priests, Father Ed-
mund Campion and His Companions. By William Cardinal Allen. Edited by Rev. J. H
Pollen, S.J. St. Louis: B. Herder.

400 NEW BOOKS [Dee.,

place ot execution, and was hanged upon the new gallowes,
which is now called among Catholikes 1 'he Gibbet of Martyrs^
because it was first set up and dedicated to the blood of an in-
nocent Catholike Confessor (D. Storye), and afterwards, by
this man's and divers Priests and others' Martyrdoms, made
sacred.

The book contains six illustrations reproduced from engrav-
ings published in the first Italian edition of the work. They
show the usual course of the persecution: Apprehension; The
Road to Prison; Examination with Torment; The Rack; The
Road to Tyburne; The Execution.

The first edition of this biography

THE PATRON OF EUCHAR- was issued about three years ago
ISTIC ASSOCIATIONS. in the United States. The pres-
ent one* was brought out with a

view to the recent Eucharistic Congress in London ; as St.
Paschal has been named by Rome the patron of Eucharistic
associations. The English translator has wisely taken some
latitude in his adaptation of the original to render it more to
the taste of English readers. Three chapters arc devoted to
recounting the long list of miracles, especially, to use the ex-
pression of the author, " that collection of unheard-of prodigies
known among Christian peoples as the ' Knocks of St. Paschal/ "
Oi this p^int he observes that the original biographer of St.
Paschal, Christopher of Arta, pauses when he comes to this
matter, "as though appalled by the subject and doubtful of
the effect which his narrative may produce. In order to en-
courage himself in the difficult task, and at the same time to
reassure his readers, he recounts a series of similar facts, taken
from the lives of the saints, and accepted by the best critics,
and then, before plunging into his subject, he undertakes to
show that the prodigies he is about to speak of are attested
by thousands of trustworthy witnesses and invested with all
the marks of unimpeachable authority." Some of the mir-
acles are, indeed, of an extraordinary character; but, as the
translator is careful to note in his Preface, "the accounts of
the miraculous events which enter so largely into the story of
Paschal's life are not a mere collection of legendary tales, but

•Life of St. Paschal of Bay Ion, the Saint of the Eucharist. Adapted from the French of Fa-
ther De Porrentruy. By Father Oswald Staniforth, O.S.F.C. New York : Benziger Brotlxera.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 401

are based entirely on the testimony of witnesses cited by ec-
clesiastical authority to give evidence in the Processes of Beati-
fication and Canonization."

In the second volume* of Father

MORAL THEOLOGY. Slater's compendium of moral the-

ology, he treats of the sacraments,

censures, irregularities, and indulgences. An appendix is added
which comprises the Constitution of Leo XIII. on prohibited
books; the Decree Ne Temere ; and the document of Pius X.
instituting a reform of the Roman Curia. The treatment of
topics is clear and concise ; every important detail is at least
touched upon; while main issues are exposed as fully as in the
ordinary text-book. The common doctrine is adhered to; and
controverted points of little practical importance are not raised
at all. The notes appended by Father Martin on American
legislation refer chiefly to questions of matrimony. The woik
will be of interest and service to any of the laity who have a
turn for theological inquiry.

This very valuable contribution of

MORAL INSTRUCTION AND information,! throwing light upon
TRAINING IN SCHOOLS, the urgent problem of moral edu-
cation in the school, has been the

fruit of a private conference held in London about two years
ago. The individuals present discussed the question of the
value of systematic moral training for the young, and the best
methods of carrying it out. Of course the fundamental point
at issue was whether or not a religious sanction was an indis-
pensable part of any serious moral training; and, on this point,
the members were divided. They all found, that they stood in
need of further information than they possessed in order to
discuss the matter satisfactorily. So they formed a Provisional
Committee for the purpose of prosecuting investigation; many
persons of eminence in public life joined the body in England,
either as members of the executive or advisory board. An
affiliated committee was soon established in the United States,
the roll of which includes, among many other conspicuous
names, those of Nicholas Murray Butler, C. W. Barnes, Arthur

* A Manual of Moral Theology for English-Speaking Countries. By Rev. Thomas Slater,
S.J. With Notes on American Legislation by Rev. Michael Martin, S.J. New York : Ben-
aiger Brothers.

t Moral Instruction and Training in Schools. Report of an International Inquiry. In tw«

Edited by M. E. Sadlier. New York : Longmans, Green & Co.
VOL. LXXXYIII.— 26

402

NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

T. Hadley, Charles J. Bonaparte, Morgan J. O'Brien, William
H. Maxwell, William H. Taft, D. O. Mills, and Richard Wat-
son Gilder. In the aggregate, the persons who associated
themselves to the enterprise reached several hundred.

The plan pursued was (i) To invite communications from
members of the advisory council ; (2) To receive oral evidence
from selected witnesses; (3) To commisssion investigators to
prepare reports upon the methods of moral instructions and
training in the schools of Great Britain and Ireland, France,
Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, Norway, Denmark, Canada,
Australia, New Zealand, and Japan. Besides the reports from
those countries, there are several essays and papers on various
aspects of the general problem. A few of the contributions
are rather superficial ; but most of them show a thorough ac-
quaintance with their particular subjects. The accounts given
of the continental and the Japanese schools are the result ©f
close inspection by competent observers. The appreciations
made upon what they have observed is frequently, of course,
colored by the personal prepossessions of the writer. There
are a few Catholic contributors.

The question of the necessity of a religious sanction, as
well as the various attempts to provide a substitute for it
where it has been discarded, receives due attention. The re-
ports from France occupy over a hundred pages. The writer
of one, Mr. Harrold Johnson, though disposed to approve, if
possible, the laicization of moral training, and though he speaks
favorably of methods and manuals which are purely and ag-
gressively secular, yet admits that the elimination of religion
from the schools has reduced the moral ideals to narrow, mean
dimensions.

We touch here what is the main defect of the French moral
instruction ; it has no vista, no escape into the ideal and the
infinite. It is too clear, too intelligible, too obvious, too fa-
miliar ; often too commonplace, too trivial. It is lacking in
the subtler delicacies, the more solemn sanctities, and in ap-
peals to the deeper needs of self-devotion. It does not open
up the large horizons which alone make possible profound
transformations of character. The more solemn chords of the
human soul are not struck. It does not at all adequately ap-
peal to the poetry ot the child-soul, around which the Catho-
lic Church has known how to weave such spells of romance.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 403

He continues, a little further on:

The heart, especially the child-heart, still hankers alter
something — something of beauty, something wistful which
the old Church may still supply. . . . One would have
expected that the school would have learned some great les*-
sons from the Church in the way of art, for example in the
direction of festivals. But between Church and school there
is a great gulf fixed ; and to many art too appears a siren
luring back again to the old delusions. L'au-dela has gone
the way of the fairies and the soul of the nation seems to have
sped with it.

The evils of the present system in France, which are touched
upon so euphemistically by Mr. Johnson, are set forth in clearer
and darker colors by the Rev. Edward Myers, who reports
from the Catholic point of view. He temperately but uncom-
promisingly describes the failure of the governmental system
as it is writ large in the temper and character of the genera-
tion which has grown up under it since 1882, when the Cate-
chism was ousted from the schoolroom and its place taken by
moral and civic instruction of M. Payot, whose books seem to
Mr. Johnson admirable teaching manuals; he says:

M. Payot's works are standard works in French training
colleges, most of them are more than mere text-books — they
are the books to which Normalists are referred for such com-
plementary information as their overcrowded time-table leaves
them leisure to seek. His position is definite and clear; he
is a Spencerian agnostic, and doubtless the schoolmasters of
the future who have come under his influence will preach the
religion of the Unknowable.

The American contributors have nothing to report with
which we are not all already familiar. One of the most inter-
esting papers is that on Japanese education by Baron Kieuchi,
for two years Minister of Education in his own country. The
Japanese system is set forth in detail ; and in it there is not a
trace of a religious idea or sentiment: "We have had direct
moral teaching, entirely free from any form of religion, for a
long time; indeed that was always taken to be the principal
aim of education. It must, however, be repeated that the
reverence of the Japanese people for the Imperial House is
something almost religious." This the editor, perhaps cor-
rectly, calls something akin to a religious sanction.

404 NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

Irish education is represented by a very desultory but in-
teresting paper from Mr. Stephen Gwynn. The analysis of
Irish character occupies as much of his attention as do the
Irish methods of teaching. He remarks that: "It may be
said broadly that no ordinary person in Ireland contemplates
the possibility of teaching morality apart from religion; and
by religion is meant emphatically this or that particular ereed ";
and he adds, as a corrollary, that: "It is hardly necessary to
point out that in many respects the standard of Irish morality
is so high that the example of Ireland may be quoted with
confidence in support of the view which makes moral teaching
necessarily a part of religion."

The editor contributes a paper attempting a summary of the
facts and views embodied in the reports. He finds that, regard-
ing the necessary connection between moral and religious teach-
ing, there are four contrasted views. These are, briefly : Re-
ligious and moral teaching are inseparable ; they are wholly
separable, and ought to be separated in schools maintained by
public funds; the religious sanction is necessary to the efficient
teaching of morals, but the religious side of moral teaching
ought to be left to the family and the religious organizations;
moral and religious training are in some points separable (man-
ners and many matters of civic obligation), in others they are
interdependent, yet as both are necessary for true education,
so an educational system should find place for denominational
schools. It is, the editor affirms, to the latter view that the
great majority of the English witnesses lean.

He brings out the fact that there is a sharp divergence of
opinions as to what is the ideal of education. One which may,
roughly speaking, be called the European, is that the teacher's
business is to stimulate the intelligence of the pupils who sit
before him under a system of rigid discipline. The other,
whose advocates are American, is that the school "is a more
or less self-governing community, occupied with vital move-
ments of all kinds; full of freedom and initiative in a great
variety of tasks; getting experience of the labors and relation-
ships which lie at the foundation of all society; dynamic, self-
expressive, educatively practical, busy with the effort to accom-
plish (under due but unobtrusive guidance) certain things which
its individual members wish to accomplish, and in which, there-
fore, they find a strong motive for effort."

i9o8.] NEW BOOKS 405

To American Catholics the papers on Belgium and Switzer-
land will prove especially suggestive, as the problem arising
from mixed populations is acute in both countries; and in the
former there exists a fierce but not victorious opposition to the
presence of religion in the schoolroom. Pedagogists, theoreti-
cal and practical, will find these two volumes well deserving of
serious study.

Dr. Schouler closed his long stand-

IDEALS OF THE REPUBLIC, ing connection with the historical

department of Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity with a series of lectures delivered in the past two years
on the fundamental ideas, social and political, to which Amer-
ica owes her progress and prosperity. The lectures are now
published together in a book consisting of nine chapters.*
The idea which Dr. Schouler treats as the fundamental one of
American political life is "government by consent," and the
next peculiarly American one is that of written constitutions.
He next discusses the conception of the Union ; the necessity
for limiting liberty by law; the play of party spirit; the prin-
ciple that public officials and servants are answerable to their
masters, the people. These ideas are examined not merely his-
torically, but also in their application to present conditions ;
hence Dr. Schouler treats of many actual questions — the char-
acteristics of party management as it exists to-day; competi-
tion for civil service ; government ownership or regulation of
railways; the function of the primaries; recent municipal ex-
periments in simplified rule. In his closing chapter the author
traces, with keen analysis, the influence, in American life past
and present, of the two great and not easily reconciled forces,
the desire for social equality and the desire to surpass, both of
which, he shows, have resolved themselves into a relentless
race for wealth, and this race has been the fruitful mother of
many evils that are particularly out of place in a republican
nation. To remedy these ills he recommends strong legislative
control over the trusts and other great aggregations of wealth ;
though he confesses that "it is difficult to surmise what will
be the final outcome of the present development of monopolies;
and amazingly difficult to devise any practical means of stifling
or extinguishing what many regard as a natural and inevitable
outcome of our highly organized industrial life." In the grow-

* Ideals of the Republic. By James Schouler, LL.D. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.

406 NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

•

Ing antagonism between capital and organized labor he sees
portentous danger; and he protests, as an American, against
any affiliation of American labor with " those destroyers of all
property, all government, all stability of social life and order,
whose schemes and dogmas are propagated in foreign countries
as friends of the laborer.'1 On the other hand, he roundly de-
nounces the extravagant display of riches indulged in by the
wealthy; and singles out the automobile as a specially per-
nicious factor of strife-breeding between classes.

Of all recent inventions for the pleasure of the rich, noth-
ing, it seems to me, widens so impressively class jealousies
among us as the automobile. This costly toy, which only a
few can afford to keep and own, is the symbol and epitome of
obtrusive arrogance towards the multitude, offset only by the
danger it brings to those themselves who use it. The gor-
geous coach and six which scattered the dust as it bowled
along, harmed little, after all, and took only its own side of
the road. Of turnouts with a horse there are still all sorts
and kinds for the people. Our monstrous electric cars are for
the multitude, and if we keep clear of iron tracks we are safe.
But an automobile appropriates the whole road and right oi
way ; with tooting horn and malodorous breath it speeds like
a dragon, death-dealing, ravaging roads which others are
taxed to maintain, exposing to sure danger those who ride by
old-fashioned modes, and sending pedestrians at street-cross-
ings in flight for their lives.

Though he does not disguise the evils, the Doctor, trusting
to the vitality of the nation, is optimistic about the future,
trusting that Americans will again come to understand that
there are better things in life than the satisfaction of an un-
bounded thirst for accumulation.

The reverend author of the novel
NIZRA. Gan-Sar, founded on the story of

Mary Magdalen, gives us another

of the same type based on the Gospel history of the visit of
the Wise Men to the Savior's crib.* Nizra, the daughter of
Caspar, accompanies her father. The journey from their coun-
try to Judea, their adventures in the city and around it, the
visit to Bethlehem, and their subsequent return, are described

* Nizra, the Flower of the Parsa. The Visit of the Wise Men. By Andrew Klarman. St.
Louis: B. Herder.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 407

with considerable play of fancy, which creates several non- his-
torical characters to vary and enliven the narrative. On her
return Nizra is sought in marriage by the prince of the coun-
try, but she has promised to be a Sister to the newborn King
of the Jews, and refuses to participate in the pagan rite of
marriage, which refusal costs her her life. The style is pleas-
ing, though somewhat stilted; and the characters are drawn
with some animation. The author has interspersed his pages
with some archaeological information on names of persons and
places. The book should be a favorite with young girls.

At first sight of this elegantly

THE BOOK OF PRINCES bound and illustrated volume,* uni-
AND PRINCESSES. form with the Fairy Book Series,

one rashly exclaims: "Another set

of fairies and folk-lore from Mr. Lang ; will the founts of his
inspiration or invention never run dry ? " But the assumption
would be almost the antithesis of the fact. The book is not
concerned with fairies or any other imaginary beings, but with
people, little people indeed, yet people of real flesh and blood;
and the author is not Mr. Lang but Mrs. Lang. The subjects
of the stories, taken from English and French history, deal with
the early lives of young persons, some of whom died young,
while others grew up to be famous personages. Though the
stories are strictly historical in the main, Mrs. Lang has em-
bellished the cold data with lively conversations, and paren-
thetical comment to suit the story to juvenile taste. The book
has the advantage over fairy tales — that it cannot fail to im-
plant the germ of a taste for historical reading in the minds of
at least some of its readers.

This whimsical title f introduces a

FATE'S A FIDDLER. very readable novel with a dis-
tinct flavor of Dickens in it. The

hero, who tells his own story, makes his bow to us from a
dingy basement in a dingy Boston street, where his father
keeps a second-hand bookstore. The father and mother are
variations of Mr. and Mrs. Micawber. A rich relative's will
furnishes the staple of the plot. The hero, Master Bibbus, gets

* The Book of Princes and Princesses. By Mrs. Lang. Edited by Andrew Lang. New
York: Longmans, Green & Co.

t Fate so. Fiddler. By Edwin George Pinkham. Illustrated by Lester Ralph. Boston:
Small, Maynard & Co.

4o8 NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

nothing from it, for all goes to a young cousin, whose guar-
dian, however, takes Bibbus to live with him and the cou-
sin. The youngsters become fast friends and emulate the day-
dreams of Barrie's Tommy down along the Swampscott coast.
Soon, however, just as the guardian is ruined by speculation,
to which he is tempted by the wicked person of the story, a
new light is cast on the will — Bibbus, not Thomas, is the true
heir. Then in a fit of noble rivalry each runs away in order
that the other may enjoy the property. But they meet again
as, in Oliver Twist fashion, they tramp out West, where the
elder Bibbus has already established himself, as something at
last turned up. Of course there is a girl, and many other com-
plications, for which we must refer the curious to the novel
itself, which will satisfy those whose taste does not need to be
provoked by high seasoning.

Like most other leading characters

THE LONG ARM OF of Mr. Oppenheim, Mannister* is
MANNISTER. a person of surpassing coolness,

infinite resource, and great mag-
netic force. His home has been ruined and his fortune rav-
aged by a gang of London adventurers ; the story tells how
he revenged himself on each one of them. The revenge took
the form of financial or social ruin. Mr. Mannister's methods
are too simple to greatly absorb a generation of readers that
has known Sherlock Holmes.

A story bearing the provocative
IN THE TROPICS. sub-title of A Novel of Church and

State in South America, gives a

vivid picture of the relations between the half-breeds and their
white masters in some parts of South America; and of the
methods by which peon labor is exploited, in the rubber
gathering industry, by the ruling classes, f The writer has
thrown into a narrative form a number of stories which he
listened to around the forest camp-fires. Those which im-
pressed him most were told by a half-breed guide, who re-
lated his own varied history, beginning in the hut of an Indian
village, passing from that to a clerical school, and then cul-

* The Long Arm of Mannister. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. Boston : Little, Brown &
Co.

t The Power Supreme. By Francis C. Nicholas. Boston : R. E. Lee Company.

1908.] NEW BOOKS 409

minating in an unsuccessful attempt at revolution. The story
is strong and realistic, unmistakably the work of one who has
been personally familiar with the country in which the scene
is cast, and the manners and character of the people who fill
his stage. A prominent note of the narrative is the abuses
which have frequently arisen through the greed of individuals
from the very close association of Church and State in some
parts of Spanish America.

Another writer conducts us among the rubber hunters in
the other hemisphere. Long Odds* is the story of a lone Eng-
lishman who for some unnamed reason has, without deserving
it, been sent to Coventry by his fellow-countrymen. He comes
to West Africa, and through a feeling of Quixotic loyalty to
a worthless Portuguese trader, deceased, undertakes to rescue
a native woman from slavery. The book is full of situations
of danger for the hero, from natives, traders, and Portuguese
officials. The vagueness of the descriptions and the want of
Individuality in the characters betray the writer, who depends
upon his reading and his imagination to furnish forth his ma-
terial. These two books might be usefully compared with each
other by a student of the novel who would seek to discover
the secret of power in works of fiction.

While the travelers who have

GREECE AND THE ^GEAN " done " Greece have written for
ISLANDS. the benefit of their stay-at-home

brethern countless volumes full of

archaeological and philological lore, very few have condescended
to the humbler service of giving us any information of the
country as it is to-day; or any counsel that would help a
prospective tourist to compute his possible expenses and con-
jecture what kind of comfort and convenience of transporta-
tion he might expect to-day in Argos. This task Mr. Marden
has taken upf and fulfilled in a fascinating volume which con-
tains an account of his trip through the Grecian mainland and
the adjoining islands. He describes the country as it exists at
present, with the customs and manners of the people as they

* Long Odds. By Harold Blindloss. Boston : Small, Maynard & Co.
t Greece and the sEgcan Islands. By Philip Sandford Marden. Boston : Houghton
Ififflin Company.

4IO NEW BOOKS [Dec.,

fell under his notice; and the ruins of the past are noticed
with just as much archaeological comment as would amply
satisfy the ordinary American tourist or reader; whose peace
of mind and self-satisfaction Mr. Harden has so far tenderly
consulted that he has nobly resisted the temptation to em-
bellish his pages with any Greek quotations. The book is
handsomely bound and illustrated.

The latest number of the " Cathe-
THE CATHEDRAL SERIES, dral Series1'* contains a detailed

professional, critical description of,

not alone the cathedrals strictly so-called, but also of all the
other great historic churches of Northern Italy. An intro-
ductory chapter consists of an able sketch of Italian ecclesi-
astical architecture, in which Mr. Bumpus describes the devel-
opment of church building in Italy from the earliest Christian
times; and traces the formation and distinguishing character-
istics of the different schools. A brief historical account of
each of the churches visited is prefixed to the description of
the building as it stands to-day. Sticking strictly to his proper
subject, Mr. Bumpus neglects the statues and paintings in the
churches; but some stroke of remorse for this seeming indig-
nity to the great masters must have touched him and induced
him to add, as an appendix, a full list of the most remark-
able pictures and wall paintings alluded to in the work. The
book is copiously illustrated with finely executed photogravures.

A little work on the training of

RELIGIOUS AND MONAS- novices for the religious state,
TIC LIFE. published in France more than

twenty years ago by the Benedic-
tine Order, was compiled from the notes of the great Abbot
Dom Gueranger by Dom Couturier, Abbot of Solesmes. It is
now presented in English for the first time.f The book is
small, but compact, with a thorough analysis of the religious
idea. Extreme simplicity of exposition, in which the rhetorical
has no place, is the conspicuous quality of the treatise. There

• The Cathedrals of Northern Italy, By T. Francis Bumpus. Illustrated. Boston : L. C.
Page & Co.

t Religious and Monastic Life Explained. Authorized version from the French of Dom
Gudranger, O.S.B. By Rev. Jerome Veth, O.S.B. St. Louis : B. Herder.

1908.]

NEW BOOKS

411

is no doubt but that it will be highly appreciated as a manual
for novices of religious congregations of both sexes in English-
speaking countries.

The second volume of the transla-
BOOKS OF MEDITATIONS, tion of Branchereau's meditations,*

like the first, has been adapted to

the temperament of English-American readers by the translator.
He has curtailed many of the meditations; and has used his
blue pencil very freely on many pages that, in the original,
abound in what to colder temperaments seems an excess of
emotionalism.

A book of short meditations on the Lord's Prayer and the
Hail Mary, prepared by a Jesuit Father, will be found a very
serviceable one for either the clergy or the laity. f Each medi-
tation consists of three points, which are intended to occupy
about a quarter of an hour each. The author's purpose is
rather to supply pregnant suggestion than a fully developed
meditation. The matter is quite practical, and may easily be
developed into plain, substantial sermons ; all the more because
under each point there is to be found a judicious selection of
the most striking Scriptural texts which bear on the subject in
hand.

A Cistercian monk, some time ago, translated from the
Latin a work written two hundred years ago by one of his
fellow-religious, Morozzo, Cistercian abbot and bishop of Bob-
bio, on the spiritual life.f It follows the traditional plan, be-
ing divided into three parts. The Purgative Way; The Il-
luminative Way; The Unitive Way. The instructions are
pointed, and without those amplifications of illustrative anecdote
and counsels drawn from the saints of the desert which figure so
largely in Rodriguez and Scaramelli. That the book has in a
short time reached a second edition is a proof that its excel-
lence is appreciated.

* Meditations for the Use of Seminarians and Priests. By Very Rev. L. Brancherean,
S.S. Translated and Adapted. New York : Benziger Brothers.

t The Lord's Prayer and the Hail Mary. By Stephen Beissel, S. J. St. Louis : B. Herder.

\ A Treatise of Spiritual Life. Translated from the Latin. By Rev. D. A. Donovan,
O.Cist. New York: Fr. Pustet & Co.

jforeion periodicals.

The Tablet (17 Oct.): "Archbishop Morton and St. Albans,"
by Abbot Gasquet, is a vindication of the Abbey from

the charges brought against it by the Archbishop.

" Unionist Policy." A constructive manifesto of the
Unionist party has been published. It includes, among
other things, Tariff Reform ; Increase of the Navy ;
Wages Boards; Opposition to Sectarian Intolerance in

the Matter of Education. " An Object Lesson from

France " shows the fallacy of the neutral system of edu-
cation and how in the long run it is distinctly hostile

to religion. " Comparative Religion " draws attention

to the fact that this department, from a Catholic stand-
point, has been sadly overlooked, and that there is a
real need of popular manuals on the subject. " Con-
gress Papers" of this week reports in full "The Or-
thodox Church and the Holy Eucharist," by the Rev.
A. Fortescue, D.D.

(24 Oct.): "Is the Bishop of Bristol an Anglican?"
This startling question is the outcome of an address re-
cently delivered by the Right Rev. gentleman, in which
he stated that the English people before the Reformation

were not Catholics. " The Persistence of Religious

Prejudice " is shown in Fr. Thurston's review of a book
recently published, called Wyclifte and the Lollards, in
which many of the time-worn and oft-disproved fables are
retold for the benefit of Protestant admirers. " Re-
treats for Workingmen " is the subject-matter of an ar-
ticle in The Spectator ', describing the recent retreat for
Catholic workingmen at Marple. Why, the editor asks,
cannot such opportunities be afforded to Protestant work-
ingmen ? "Chalices for the Pope." Three hundred and

sixty-one chalices are to be presented to his Holiness,
subscribed for by the women of Great Britain and Ire-
land. " Unemployment and Unused Town Lots " pro-
poses to extend the American system of permitting the
unemployed to cultivate vacant lots in proximity to cities.

The Month (Oct.): Fr. Sydney Smith, in "The Eucharistic
Congress," gathers up the impressions received and the
convictions formed. It was a magnificent demonstration

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 413

of the vitality and growth of Catholicism as well as an

object lesson and a stimulus to devotion. "The Blessed

Sacrament and the Consecration of Altars." Fr. Thurs-
ton draws attention to the provision made in some of
the old English Pontificals for the laying away in the
altar of a part of the Sacred Host, together with three
grains of incense, while the confession or sepulchre was
to be anointed with chrism, the idea evidently being that

of assisting at a solemn Burial Service. " Mendel and

Mendelism" gives an account of the work performed by
Mendel, an unknown Augustinian monk, in the depart-
ment of biology. His theory of hybridism has yet to
be proved, but his method has changed biology from a

descriptive to an experimental science. "The Religion

of Mithra," by C. C. Martindale, treats of that cult when,
for the first time, it came face to face with Christianity.
Mithra held the position of Logos ; he struggles against
the evil principle and overcomes him. This struggle has
a counterpart in the heart of man.

The Expository Times (Nov.) : Gives the raison d'etre for " The
Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics," the first volume
of which has recently issued from the press. The rela-
tion between Ethics and Religion is so vital and so es-
sential that it is difficult to separate them even in thought.
" The Relation of the Fourth Gospel to the Synop-
tics," answers the question, was the writer of the Fourth
Gospel acquainted with the other three narratives? in
the affirmative. "Recent Biblical and Oriental Archae-
ology," by Professor Sayce, pays a tribute to the part
the United States is playing in Oriental research. Among
authorities mentioned is a book by Dr. Olmstead, pub-
lished in New York, on Assyrian history. Under

"Contributions and Comments" several difficulties are
discussed, one being Joseph's " Coat of Many Colors,"

another "The Name 'Jahweh.'" Continued articles

are: "Modern Positive Theology." And "The Jesus-
Paul Controversy."

The National Review (Nov.): "Episodes of the Month" de-
votes considerable space to the recent disturbance in the

Near East. " On the Eve," by H. W. Wilson, sounds

a note of warning. The writer declares that the passing

4I4 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Dec.,

of a British Naval Defence Act is England's only sal-
vation, if she would retain her command of the sea.

In " Votes for Women " the Hon. Mrs. Ivor Maxse takes
up the arguments framed by the supporters of woman
suffrage, and shows how inadequate and unsatisfactory

they are. The Editor, L. J. Maxse, in his article,

"A Crisis and a Moral," predicts that unless the states-
men of London, St. Petersburg, and Paris organize a
counter entente, for purely defensive purposes, Europe
will become involved in a war by the vanity of Vienna

and the restlessness of Berlin. "Some Aspects of the

Reform Movement in Turkey," by George Lloyd.

" The Government and Education/1 by C. A. Cripps, K. C.,
condemns the Educational Bill of Mr. Birrell as an attack
against the National Church, and urges the claim of re-
ligious education in secular schools. " Hungarian

Nationalities " is a chapter from 7 he Political Evolution
of the Hungarian Nation, by Knatchbull Hugessen.

The Church Quarterly Review (Oct.): "The Lambeth Confer-
ence" attracted, the writer says, a larger amount of at-
tention than any of the previous ones, though at the
same time disappointment was evinced at the lack of
any definite or decisive opinion. " Eucharistic Doc-
trine and the Canon of the Roman Mass," by Darwin
Stone, points out that the early history of the Canon
is unknown. The sacrificial idea is present through-
out, and it neither implies nor asserts any doctrines

which English Church people need repudiate. "The

Higher Education of Women" shows how the sphere
of woman's activities has become enlarged, and how
necessary it is to fit her for entering upon the wider

field of duties opening before her. "The Doctrine of

Divine Immanence in the New Testament Theology."
The tendency of present-day theology is to lay stress
upon the immanence of God. This is to say that Chris-
tianity is a philosophical religion. The Synoptics con-
tribute less than any other New Testament writers to
this doctrine ; it is in the Pauline epistles that the
thought of God's immanence finds its fullest and most
varied expression.

The International (Oct.) : Alfred Holt Stone, of Washington,

FOREIGN PERIODICALS 415

D. C., in "The Future of the Race Problem in Amer-
ica," offers three solutions of the difficulty : Deportation,

Absorbtion, Race War. "German Social Insurance"

is dealt with as a necessary corollary of the Factory
Laws; nearly one-fourth of the entire population is under
a scheme of insurance against sickness, accident, disable-
ment, and old age. "The South African Native Ques-
tion" is, the writer claims, the most pressing problem
with which the African statesman stands face to face.
Here, as elsewhere, the cause of discontent underlying

all others, is the difficulty of obtaining land. " The

Economic System of Canada " shows that the Dominion,
in adopting the Australian system rather than that of the

United States, has taken a step towards Socialism.

"Future Prospect of Japanese Christianity" asks the
question: What form will it take? Certainly, the writer
says, neither English nor American, but purely national,
suited to the needs and temperament of the people.

The Monist (Oct.) : " A History of Early Chinese Philosophy,"
by Mr. Suzuki, discusses it from a religious point of
view, dealing with the conception of God, and showing
the line of demarcation between the classical and philo-
sophical treatises. " That Than Which a Greater Can-
not Be " is a scholastic essay by Gerald Cator, in which
he proves that Theistic reality is not merely an empiri-
cal but a necessary truth. " The Jonah Legend in

India." The fact that such a story has been incorpo-
rated into the history of Buddhism, shows that it was
probably carried into India by the Arabs, for the inci-
dent is narrated in several passages of the Koran.

" The Classification of Religions," by Daren Ward, makes
them fall under four headings based on : I. Theological
Dogma; II. Objective Characteristics; III. Subjective
Characteristics ; IV. Racial Distinctions.

The Dublin Review (Oct.) : " The Ushaw Centenary and Eng-
lish Catholicism," by Wilfrid Ward, is a retrospect of
the Catholic Church in England from the fateful days of
Elizabeth. The writer points out the prominent place
occupied by such colleges as Ushaw and the part they
played in the work of restoration. F. Y. Eccles re-
views the works of " Maurice Barres " who, he says, is

4l6 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Dec.,

a recognized influence for good in his own country.

" Revising the Vulgate," by Abbot Gasquet, gives a rapid
sketch of the aim and object of the Biblical Commission,
its personnel, and what it has already accomplished in a

work which may well take generations to complete.

"The Epistles of Erasmus" show him as one of those
men who develop but do not change radically. He had
a fatal love ol epigram, and even upon the gravest mat-
ters, he could not exclude his wit. "The Neronian

Persecution." Quoting from St. Clement and others, the
writer, F. J. Bacchus, points out that the charge of in-
cendiarism was not the cause of the persecution, but that
it was brought about by envy and jealousy on the
part of the Jews.

7 he Irish Ecclesiastical Record (Oct.): "The Doctrine of the
Mass in the Infant Church," by Rev. G. Pierse, of May-
nooth College, treats of the doctrinal development regard-
ing the Eucharist in the period embracing the last half
of the second century and the first half of the third.
That the Mass was regarded as a sacrificial function is
shown from the writings of both Eastern and Western

Fathers. "Evolution and Morality," by Rev. R. Ful.

lerton, is the continuation of a question already dealt
with at some length. One thing history makes clear,
that whenever ethics have not been prompted by reli-
gious motives, self-interest has reigned supreme.

"The Origin of the Cultus of the Saints" is a refuta-
tion of Harnack's theory that the worship of the saints
may be traced to Hellenistic influences upon the early
Church. The writer shows that the cultus originated
with the worship paid to Christian martyrs.
The Irish Theological Quarterly (Oct.): Dr. McDonald, in his
article " Pan-Anglicanism," points out that, while recog-
nizing the sincerity of those who took part in the dis-
cussions, Catholics cannot but disagree profoundly with
nearly all of what they wrote and said. "The Tem-
ple of Onias at Leontopolis," by Rev. Hugh Pope, O.P.,
tells of the flight to Egypt, from Jesusalem, of Onias IV.
While there he made a request of Ptolemy that he be
permitted to build a temple, as Isaias the prophet had
foretold some six hundred years before that time that a

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 417

temple would be built to the Lord in Egypt. " St.

Anselm's Definition of Original Sin," by Rev. P. J.
Toner, traces the history of this discussion. It began
with St. Anselm, who refuted the Augustinian theory,
but it took many years for the recognition of the truth
that the privation of original justice, which constitutes
original sin, is nothing else than the privation of grace.

" The Historical Character of the Fourth Gospel " is

defended by the Rev. J. MacRory ; while recognizing
many difficulties, he claims that they admit of explana-
tion. Other articles are : " Clandestinity and Mixed

Marriages in Ireland," by Rev. Dr. Harty. And

" The History of the Vatican Council," by Rev. J. Mac-
Caffrey, Ph.D.

Le Correspondant (10 Oct.): "Napoleon III. and the Empress
Eugenie," their representative roles in the war of 1870,
by M. H. Welschinger. It cannot be denied that the
Empress exerted great influence in causing war to be
declared. She foresaw that victory would consolidate
the throne, and guarantee the succession to her son.
The Emperor was doubtful from the first and feared the

results of internal dissension. "Letters to Mauper-

tuis," ten letters of Madame du Deffand to M. de Mau-
pertuis, show the charm and talent of the great woman
rather than her philosophy. M. George Goyau con-
tributes " Twenty Years of Bavarian History." It covers
the period from 1848-1870; the tactics of Hohenlohe
against the Jesuits and Ultramontanists receive due at-
tention. M. A. Bechaux : " Economic Life and the

Social Movement " ; a general study of existing condi-
tions. Among the topics discussed are: The Congress
of Nuremberg; Power and Weakness of Syndicates; the
Psychology of Syndicates; Emigration, etc.
(25 Oct.): "The America of the Future," the third in-
stallment of an article by Abbe Klein, relating his im-
pressions of America. Peoria and Bishop Spalding; St.
Paul and Archbishop Ireland, are the headings of sections
delineating the personal charms of the two great pre-
lates and the work done in their respective dioceses.
Creighton University receives its share of appreciation ;
under the able direction of its then President, Rev. M.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 27

4I8 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Dec.,

Bowling, S.J., it set a standard which the Catholic Uni-
versities of France might well emulate. " The French

Institute,1' is a short historical sketch apropos of the
celebration of the one hundred and thirteenth anniver-
sary of the Institute. Its organization marks an epoch

in the history of civilization. In " Neo Classicism and

the Autumn Exhibition," M. Gabriel Mourey, intimates
that the French artists of to-day would do well not to
sin against the eternal standards of beauty ; without
ceasing to be men of their day, they could cast a glance
at the ideals of the past, for "a thing of beauty is an
eternal source of joy."

Etudes (5 Oct.) : The recent pastoral of " The French Hier-
archy on the School Question" is given in full. J. de

la Serviere continues his criticism of " The Pan- Anglican
and Lambeth Conferences." The resolutions of the lat-
ter, as well as the encyclical it issued, are given. " The

Tercentenary Celebrations at Quebec " are highly praised

by M. Tamisier. Joseph Brucker's views on theology

and biblical criticism, on historical truth in the Bible,
and upon the authenticity of the Pentateuch, as exposed
in his work, 1 'he Church and Biblical Criticism, are high-
ly commended. " The Criticism of M. Turmel." F.

Dubois complains that M. Portalie was unjust towards
him in criticizing his defence of M. Turmel. M. Portalie
replies trenchantly, justifying the tone of his article.—
"How to Teach Theology in Seminaries" is the cap-
tion of an article by Jean Bainvel.

(20 Oct.): J. de la Serviere records some of the im-
pressions made upon him during "The Eucharistic Con-
gress in London." He speaks in terms of praise of the
music rendered in the Westminster Cathedral, and also
of the great faith of the English Catholics. A psy-
chological study of " Martin Luther," based upon un-
edited documents recently discovered, is contributed by
Paul Bernard. In "Voyages of Missionaries" is de-
scribed the sufferings, discomforts, and inconveniences
that a sixteenth- century missionary underwent in going

from Lisbon to Goa. " British Science " gives us an

interesting account of a visit to the Franco-British Ex-
hibition in London. "The Mystical Life." Jean dc

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 419

Seguier joins issue with M. Sandreau upon three points;
namely, that contemplation does not require a special
vocation ; that perfection requires the graces of a mystic;
and that contemplation, in its lower stages, is a knowl-
edge of an intelligible nature, more perfect than, but of
the same order as, human intelligence.

Annales de Philosophic Chretienne (Oct.) : " Dogma and Theol-
ogy/* by M. Laberthonniere, is a comparison of the
theories put forward by M. Le Roy and M. Lebreton.
The pragmatism of the one is an agnosticism which he
avows, while the intellectualism of the other is an ag-
nosticism which he does not avow. To the one dogma
is unknowable; to the other it is knowable, but cannot
be attained to by the natural intelligence. This, after

all, is but a play upon words. "Two Methods of

Treating the History of Religion," by M. Louis, is sug-
gested by a recent work. The one method is very eru-
dite, involving itself in controversy ; the other less
learned, but more philosophical. This latter is the plan

advocated by the writer, as adopted by specialists.

F. Lehardy, in "The Moral of Lafontaine's Fables,"
says that his work is truly a reflection and expression
of his life. He wrote his fables as a bird sang, without
more reflection. He played with life, and yet life is
something more than a game.

La Democratic Chretienne (8 Oct.) : " Social and Economic
Science " is a summary of the social doctrines of Baron
Charles de Vogelsang. According to this eminent Aus-
trian sociology is ethical ; it is also philosophical, in
that it considers the origin, the end, and nature of so-
ciety. "The Popular Institute of Hellenes" is a re-
port read September 20, 1908. It treats of three diffi-
culties attending the reunion of the institute. The or-
ganization committee, the difficulty of obtaining pro-
fessors, and the need of greater financial support.

"The Catholic Congress at Diisseldorf" is made the

subject of some reflections by the Abb£ G , who

deplores the fact that no French delegate was present.
" Social Papers " deal with the International Con-
ferences at Zurich and Geneva, also the Departmental
Congress of the diocese of Versailles.

420 POREIGN PERIODICALS [Dec.,

Revue du Monde Catholique (15 Oct.) : P. Camillus concludes his

account of the Eucharistic Congress. Ch. Beaurredon

continues his criticism of Modernism. He concludes with
" A Last Word," in which he points to M. Loisy as an ex-
ample of the practical action of Modernism. M. Sicard

begins a history of " The French Clergy in the Past and
Since the Concordat of 1801." This number sketches the
period from St. Irenaeus to Gregory the Great. In his
preface the author promises "to compose no panegyrics,
to speak plainly, to call things by their name, to give to

events and to persons what is coming to them. Xavier

Levrier writes of "The True Chronology of our Lord Jesus
Christ," and criticises the position taken by M. Rene des
Chesnais that our Lord was born on the 25th of Decem-
ber, in the Roman year 748, and that his death took
place in the year 783, being the fourth Pasch of his pub-
lic life, which is altogether contrary to received tradition.

Revue Pratique d' Apologetique (15 Oct.) : " The Prophetical Ar-
gument." This installment of J. Touzard's series dwells
upon the importance of the Prophets in Old Testament
times. The texts in Isaias, Jeremias, and Ezechiel regard-
ing the future of Israel are treated at great length. The
conclusion reached is that the fulfilment of these prophe-
cies can be found only in the person and work of Jesus.

" Buddhism and Apologetics." After stating the

problem that isfsignified by this title, M. de la Vallee
Poussin gives his solution for the apologist's use. He
says that the many resemblances between Buddhism and
Christianity serve but to reveal the historical value to be
adduced for the teachings of Christianity in contrast with
the legendary foundation upon which Buddhism is built,

La Revue des Sciences Ecclesiastiques et la Science Catholique
(Sept.): "The Fourth Gospel," by 1'Abbe Roupain. The
subject is divided under two headings: ist. "Are We
Justified in Attributing this Gospel to St. John?" 2d.
" Can We Hold With Certainty to the Historicity of the
Book?" These questions are answered affirmatively. The
argument for the former is based on Tradition. And,
again, that this Gospel dates from the end of the first

century and was written entirely by St. John. "The

Subliminal Consciousness," by Chanoine Gombault.

1908.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 421

Lourdes and its Cures regarded from a scientific point
of view. That cures have taken place there is unques-
tionably admitted. Explanations offered for them are
in no way satisfactory. Subliminal consciousness, as
urged by Dr. Mangin, is insufficient. "The Theol-
ogy of William of Champeaux," by E. Hurault, proves
that he was orthodox on the doctrine of Original Sin,

although somewhat careless in his terminology.

" Historical Bulletin," by 1'Abbe Lourdeau. Subjects
treated : " The Great Abbeys of the West " ; " The Be-
ginning of the Anglican Schism"; "The Pilgrimages
of Louis XL"

La Scuola Cattolica (Sept.) : " Assyrian Demonology," by E.
De Giovanni. The Assyrians, ignorant of the causes of
evil, attributed disease and suffering to spirits ; this is
one of the reasons why we find in the magical literature
of Assyria a veritable army of wicked spirits. The gen-
esis, growth, knowledge, nature, and power of these de-
mons is considered by the aid of the magical incan-
tations of the Assyrians. D. Bergamaschi concludes

" The Life of Fra Buono, Hermit, Institutor of the Forty

Hours' Devotion." Other articles: " Discernibility of

Miracles," by G. Mattuissi, SJ. "The Incidental

Proposition in Traditional Logic," by G. Cevolani.

La Civilta Cattolica (3 Oct.) : " The Jubilee of Pius X. and the
Voice of the Pope." The touching spectacle which took
place on the i8th day of September last, has passed;
in less than one hour it was over, but in the mind and
on the heart of one who assisted, it has been so indeli-
bly written as never to be forgotten. " The Human

Element in Sacred Eloquence." This excellent article
is again continued at length, embodying much practical

knowledge. "The Divinity of Christ and the Primacy

of St. Peter." A defence of these two truths, so con-
nected one with the other. One the foundation of all
Christianity; the other the foundation of the true and
genuine Christianity — a refutation of Loisy and his fol-
lowers.

(17 Oct.): "The Eucharistic Congress in London " con-
tained in this number. As is also the article on the

" First Centenary of Saverio Betinelli. " New Studies

422 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Dec.

•

on the Question of Pope Liberius " continues to give

much valuable information on a vexed question.

Other articles are : " The Encyclical on Modernism,"

in view of some recent writings. "The Symbolism of

the Three Beasts as Used by Dante." "Justice," a

eulogy on its value to the commonwealth, rightly spoken
of in philosophy as the morning and evening star.

Espana y America (i Oct.): "The Exhortation of Pius X." to
the clergy on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of

his priesthood is concluded. P. E. Negrete continues

his examination of "The ^Esthetic Ideas of St. Augus-
tine." "Biblical Exegesis and Modern Criticism" is

again discussed by P. Miguel Coco. He opposes to the
destructive theories of Loisy the Pauline arguments for
the Resurrection of Christ, and shows that denial of the
resurrection of the dead leads to a frightful naturalism.
(15 Oct.): Alberto Blanco discusses "The Theological

Meaning and the Poetical Structure of Psalm CX."

P. L. Alvarez investigates how " Modernism " destroys
faith. This to the modernist is an assent operating
independently of the will and of the understanding;
to the Catholic it is a free intellectual act. The author
denies that such assent to the teachings of the Church

is against one's reasonable liberty. P. M. Lorenzo

concludes his historical sketch, "The Sisters of Fabiola."

Razon y Fe (Oct.): R. Ruiz Amado contributes an article on

"Education Not a Political but a Social Function."

L. Murillo treats of " The Cosmogonies of Primitive Pagan

Peoples" as compared with that of the Hebrews.

"Joseph Bonaparte and the Spanish ex-Jesuits" is treated
by D. de Valbuena. The king's demands upon them seem
to have been unjust; his manner precipitate and violent;
his punishment of them by exile and imprisonment sanc-
tioned by no law; and their constancy entire and gen-
erous. "The New Organization of the Curia," with

advices relative to religious and to the decree Ne lemere
is treated by J. B. Ferreres, and will be continued in the
next issue.

Current Events,

No settlement of any one of the

The Near East. many questions raised by the ac-

tion of Austria- Hungary and of
Bulgaria has so far been made. It is, however, generally recog-
nized that the manner in which both governments acted was
iniquitous and unjustifiable. Nevertheless, it is looked upon
as impossible to undo what has been done. To this extent
wrong- doing has triumphed. The triumph is, however, of a
somewhat sorry character, for it has involved the destruction
of the credit of one of the Great Powers, hitherto looked upon
as a support of the established order. Confidence is no longer
placed in the fulfilment by her of obligations solemnly ac-
cepted. Mr. Gladstone's declaration that nowhere has Austria
ever done any good, and that it is impossible for her ever to
learn — a declaration thought at the time it was made to be ex-
aggerated— is now being recalled to remembrance and is meet-
ing with the approbation which was then refused. It is a fine
thing to have a long history to which to look back; but when
that long history is, to a large extent, a record of deeds of
violence, injustice, and oppression, which form precedents for a
further series of such deeds, then it is a matter for congratu-
lation that we in this country do not inherit so pernicious a
burden from the past.

It may seem strange to reckon the annexation of the two
Turkish provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina as part of the
long list of the misdoings of Austria. For the Austrian rule
over the provinces has proved much better than the Turkish.
It is generally recognized that there has been a great increase
of material prosperity in the two provinces, and that law and
order now reign where formerly there was widespread anarchy.
Moreover, to all intents and purposes the provinces had be-
come the possession of Austria, and it was not expected by
any one that they would ever be restored.

For all that, the time and manner of the annexation made
what might have been accomplished in an orderly way in the
highest degree lawless and unjust and worthy of the severest

424

CURRENT EVENTS [Dec.,

condemnation. It was a distinct breach of the Berlin treaty,
which forms the basis of the last European settlement. This
treaty formed the sole justification of Austria's right to be in
the provinces at all. The hopes which are being entertained
by many, for the preservation of peace by means of arbitra-
tion-treaties, will prove to be baseless if no regard is to be
paid to the binding character of a treaty after it has been
made, and if what is supposed to be one of the Great Powers
can set aside so solemn a treaty as that of Berlin at will,
small reliance can be felt in any other treaty which may be
made. Happily the condemnation passed upon Austria's con-
duct, almost universal as it is, has shown that other nations
have higher standards of morality and of fidelity to their en-
gagements.

Perhaps an even worse feature of the proceeding was the
time chosen for the annexation. Very few Christians would be
sorry if Turkish dominion over every part of the world were
to come to an end. That, however, being unlikely, all right-
minded men cannot help rejoicing that the evil features of Turk-
ish rule, or some of them at least, should be abolished or miti-
gated, and that the yoke of the autocrat, and especially of so
fiendish an autocrat as the Sultan, should be broken. Just when,
to the surprise of all, there was a prospect of this, on account
of the restoration of the Constitution, the action of Austria
was best calculated to throw the subjects of Turkey, Christians
and Ottomans alike, back under the complete domination of the
Sultan ; for nothing welds a nation so closely together as for-
eign opposition.

For the past half-dozen years Austria, along with Russia,
has stood in the way of the other Powers of Europe, and has
prevented them from interposing in Macedonian affairs, and
thereby saving men, women, and children from being massacred
by thousands. The action taken by Austria is seen now to
have been a mere pretence in order to shield her own sel-
fish plans ; for the moment that all this had come to an
end, and peace had been restored in Macedonia, was chosen by
Austria for taking a step the most likely of all to bring about
a reversion to the former state. Happily there exists at the
present time a power to which the so-called great Powers and
all kings and potentates must bow ; that power is public opinion.

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 425

The approval of public opinion in this country, it has been
stated in the papers, Baron von Aehrenthal has been very anx-
ious to secure. He has, however, signally failed.

As a result of the annexation, the future holds out a worse
prospect for the continuance of Hapsburg rule. Although the
Hapsburgs are Germans, they have been cast out of the Ger-
man Empire. Of the Germans left under their rule, a not in-
considerable number are anxious to throw off allegiance to the
Emperor-King, Francis Joseph, and to become subjects of the
Kaiser William II. The Magyars, the second main division of
Francis Joseph's subjects, hate no people so much as their Ger-
man fellow-subjects. The Slavs form the third of the principal
races in the Empire, and they have for an ideal the formation
of a great Slav Kingdom, independent and distinct, which is to
have in Russia a protector. The annexed provinces, Bosnia
and Herzegovina, contain a large number of Slavs, and by the
annexation of these provinces the number of those willing to
disintegrate the Empire has been increased, and ground has
been furnished for a conflict with Russia. And, so far from
strengthening the Empire, the annexation has only added to
the difficulties with which it has to meet.

These difficulties spring from the spirit of nationality which
has for so long been the most potent force in the formation
and disintegration of Empires. The Serbs are animated by this
spirit in no slight degree, and have long been cherishing the
desire to bring together under one rule and in one kingdom
all of the same race. The principality of Montenegro is of the
same blood. Both Servia, consequently, and Montenegro have
been exasperated almost to the point — comparatively weak
though they are — of declaring war against Austria; for the
annexation has separated the large number of Serbs in the two
provinces from their fellow-Serbs, and has placed an obstacle
as permanent as the existence of the Austrian Empire itself in
the way of the formation of a Greater Servia. The Russian
people, too, have been moved to indignation by the wrong
done to their fellow-Slavs, and it has required great determi-
nation on the part of the government of Russia to restrain the
movement in favor of war. It is even yet uncertain whether
it will succeed. The Russian people were able against the will
of the government to bring about the last war with Turkey,

426 CURRENT EVENTS [Dec.,

and they may possibly be able to force the government this
time and bring about a war with Austria.

One of the strangest of the results of the action of Austria
has been the bringing about of what may almost be called an
entente between Russia and England, in which France is in-
cluded, so that there is now a triple entente between England,
France, and Russia. This is due to the efforts of M. Isvolsky,
the Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs, who has made a series
of visits to all the principal countries, and has entered into per-
sonal intercourse with the foreign ministers of Austria, Ger-
many, Italy, France, and Great Britain. It is said that he is
a man who inspires and deserves confidence, a somewhat rare
thing among diplomatists. His efforts have been devoted to
the summoning of a Conference for the readjustment of the
European situation and the amendment of the Berlin Treaty.
Success seems to be doubtful, for Austria will not submit to
the discussion of the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina;
consequently, no advantage from a Conference can be hoped
for. She will, we hope, incur the penalty of non-recognition.
This may not be of much importance to Austria, but for Bul-
garia, the other violator of treaties, the consequences will be
more serious, as the money which the new kingdom requires
cannot be legally raised or secured until that recognition. It
is said, however, that Bulgaria has entered upon direct nego-
tiations with Turkey and that there are hopes that an amicable
solution may be found. The points at issue are the payment
of the tribute for Eastern Rumelia and the compensation for
the seizure of that portion of the Orient Railway which passes
through that district. The relations, however, between Turkey
and Bulgaria were at one time so strained that war was on
the point of breaking out ; that it did not break out was due,
it is said, to the intimation made by Russia to the Prince's
government that Russian troops would enter Bulgaria the mo-
ment when an attack should be made on Turkey.

No Power has been so perplexed as to its course of action
as Germany. On the one hand she is the ally of Austria, and
indebted to her for the only support received at the Algeciras
Conference. On the other, since Great Britain threw Turkey
overboard, Germany has been the chief supporter of the Sul-
tan. The Baghdad Railway is a German project, and in other

1908.] CURRENT EVENTS 427

ways Germany looks for benefits from Turkey. So it became
an exceedingly anxious question which side Germany should
take — that of Austria or that of Turkey; and it is not yet
clear what decision has been reached. So far, however, Aus-
tria seems to have carried the day. The conduct of Italy has
been very ambiguous. At first Signer Tittoni intimated that
Italy had full knowledge and gave full consent to Austria's
action, but afterwards he retreated, or seemed to retreat, from
that position.

Greece, too, has been placed in an embarrassing position.
No sooner did Bulgaria declare independence, than Crete de-
clared its own annexation to Greece. The latter kingdom,
however, much as it hates the Turk, hates the Bulgar more;
and appears to have been unwilling to give trouble to Turkey.
At all events she has not yet accepted the offer of the Cretans.
Perhaps the four Powers who have been protecting Crete may
have had some influence in the matter.

The one Power whose conduct has met with general ap-
probation is Turkey. This has been due not to love of Turkey,
but to the strong hope which exists that a more reasonable
form of government may be upon the point of being perma-
nently ' established for the benefit of the many long-suffering
peoples under the rule of the Sultan. This hope the wise and
moderate conduct of the Young Turks, and of the government
whom they advise and control, has done everything to strengthen.
The advice given by friendly Powers has been listened to,
and the natural desire to rush into a war has been resisted.
All the Powers, therefore, have recognized that Turkey is en-
titled to compensation for the loss of prestige she has suffered ;
and all, even Russia, have renounced any purpose of securing
for themselves advantages at the expense of Turkey.

The constitutional regime seems to be established, but it
would be altogether premature to say that it really is established.
No one imagines for a moment that the Sultan will assent to
its continuance a moment longer than he is forced; but there
is every reason for thinking that the only force that exists in
Turkey, the army, is determined to defend the Constitution.
Of this there seems to be good proof.

423 CURRENT EVENTS [Dec.,

Germany has been passing through
Germany. an internal revolution, peaceful in-

deed, but effectual in bringing about

a more reasonable form of government. It has been a matter
of common knowledge that the Kaiser chafes under the con-
trol over his actions which is involved in the existence of a
Constitution. More than once he has caused grave inconvenience
by independent action ; but his subjects were not aware, until
he himself revealed the fact, how often this interference had
been, and how near to the infliction of the gravest injury upon
his own country and upon the world his indiscretion might
have led. In the interview which recently appeared in an Eng-
lish paper he has, by the indiscreet revelation therein made of
his own personal diplomacy and of that of France and Russia,
succeeded in rendering it almost impossible for confidence to
be placed in German action by other Powers. As to his own
people, while they were led to think by the Kruger telegram
that he was friendly to the Boers, as were the vast majority
of his subjects, at the very time he had prepared for British
use a plan of campaign for their defeat. In the words of a
leading German paper, this self-revelation of the Kaiser's ac-
tion has " more closely welded together the ties which unite
our enemies and has diminished the number of our friends ;
it has depressed our prestige like a market quotation, and has
lessened belief in the earnestness of our purpose and in the
seriousness and trustworthiness of our policy. ... It has
increased the difficulties of conducting our foreign policy to
such an extent that we by no means envy the task of the re-
sponsible statesman whose function it is to defend these utter-
ances."

Prince Biilow felt the task to be so heavy that while he
chivalrously took upon himself the responsibility for the publi-
cation of the interview, yet he felt himself compelled to offer
his resignation. This was not accepted ; but after the meeting
of the Reichstag and the severe criticisms of the Kaiser's con-
duct, which were made at its first sessions, the Prince felt com-
pelled to insist upon a clear understanding as to his position.
Either the Kaiser was to be at liberty to act as an absolute
ruler, in which case the Prince would resign, or the require-
ments of the Constitution should be observed in the letter and

i9o8.] CURRENT EVENTS 429

in the spirit. According to the latest news the Kaiser has
renounced all desire to carry out personal policies of his own,
and has submitted to the will of the nation. He declared it
to be the bitterest hour of his life. We hope he will live to
look upon it as the happiest. Experience has shown the ex-
tremes of misery through which the world has passed through
the dependence of millions upon the will of a single individual.

Very little has to be said about
France. France, the Near Eastern question

having engrossed her energies to

the exclusion of almost every other interest. The one event
necessary to mention is the fall of the Minister for the Navy,
M. Thomson. The long series of accidents which have taken
place led the Chamber of Deputies to pass a resolution con-
demning in strong terms his administration of that department.
He accordingly resigned and has been succeeded by M. Alfred
Picard, a man of high distinction as an author and an engineer,
but totally unconnected with politics.

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION

ALLAN ROBINSON, president of the Allied Real Estate Interests, has
issued the following statement relative to the increase of over six mil-
lion dollars asked for by the Board of Education.

Criticism of education appropriations is not popular. There are few
taxpayers who would be found willing to stint the Board of Estimate and Ap-
portionment when it comes to giving the youth of this city a good education
or to paying our teachers properly. The increase, however, of $6,258,521
asked for this fall by the Board of Education is an enormous increase. The
total appropriation asked for by the Board of Education is $33,031,484, or
the equivalent of $7.23 tor every man, woman, and child in Greater New
York. United States census reports for 1905 show the following per capita
appropriations for educational purposes in the seven largest cities in the
country: Chicago, $3.78; Philadelphia, $3.57; St. Louis, $3.40; Boston,
$6.69; Baltimore, $2.94; Cleveland, $4.67 ; Buffalo, $3.97.

It will be noted that, with the exception of Boston, where the rate is
quite high, the educational appropriations of these cities are about one-half
as much per capita as the proposed budget in New York would amount to.

In the year 1899 — the first year of the consolidation of the various bor-
oughs— the appropriation for educational purposes was $13,641,616.95, or
$3.84 per capita. If the increase asked for by the Board of Education is
granted, the appropriation for educational purposes will have increased 142
per cent in ten years, while the increase in population during the same
period has been only 32.7 per cent.

The taxpayers want to know if this enormous increase is justified, and
the forthcoming Budget Exhibit will be utilized to present to the people of
New York the facts as to how this money is being spent.

* * •

A writer in The Living Church says :

Of course American conditions make it impossible for churchly educa-
tion to be given in the public schools; neither do churchmen find it prac-
ticable on financial grounds, to introduce a parochial school system gener-
ally, though Roman Catholics and Lutherans, who are not commonly believed
to average greater wealth than do churchmen, find a way to do it. We are
considering now only the problem of the boarding school. There the
Church is strong in the opportunity to educate, if churchmen will use the
opportunity. Efficient church schools are here; churchmen may make use
of them if they will, but for the most part they do not. The problem of ex-
pense must often enter into the consideration. It is truly said that most of
our church schools are expensive. That arises from the fact that efficient
education is always expensive, and church schools have not been sufficiently
endowed to enable them to supplement tuition fees from income thus ob-
tained. If some of the wealth of churchmen might be devoted to the pur-
pose of such endowment, with a view of cheapening tuition, itvould te

1908.] THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION 431

most helpful to parents of moderate means. In the meantime, however,
plenty of churchmen are sending their sons and their daughters to equally
expensive schools in which the environment is not churchly, often unchurch-
ly, sometimes irreligious, so that the problem of expense is not the whole
difficulty. The real fact appears to be, the more expensive schools are bet-
ter supported than the less.

• • •

While contending that all attempts have failed to attach Shakespeare to
any particular denomination, a recent writer in The Contemporary Review
admits much in favor of the Catholic claim. He declares that it was not
Shakespeare's business, we may even say it was not his policy — for policy in
religion was a matter of some importance in the reign of Elizabeth — to de-
clare his religious beliefs. In so far as he was a private individual his faith
was his own business, while in so far as he was a dramatist his declarations of
faith were part of his art. However, it is true enough to say that the form
and fashion of the old taith fascinated his nature in a way that was impossible
with the reformed religion. When we read the plays it is impossible to be-
lieve that the age of the Reformation has come and gone. The faith of the
Middle Ages inspires and pervades the plays to an extent and in a fashion
that is due to deliberate [preference. The formulas of Holy Church, oaths
and phrases drawn from the creeds and gospels, are ever on the lips ot his
people. He shows a minute and intimate knowledge of the highly technical
precepts of the old faith. No detail is wanting of Church life, from the car-
rying of the chrisom child to the bringing home of bell and burial. Holy
Church environed the creations of Shakespeare from the cradle to the grave.
The Catholic position was, in fact, his position, though there is evidence that
he did not recognize the Papal authority.

The introductory paragraph of Shakespeare's will seems to give us a di-
rect statement of his belief: I commend my soul unto the hands of God my
Creator, hoping and assuredly believing, through the only merits of Jesus
Christ my Savior, to be made partaker of life everlasting. How does this
noble commendation tally with the faith that peers through the plays as we
watch Shakespeare's great creatures live and move and have their wondrous
being? The plays taken as a whole give the reader certain definite impres
sions. We notice, for instance, a profound reticence on great religious
issues that are perfectly consistent with, indeed follow directly from, his
Catholic position, and are not betrayed by the lavish use of religious material.
The use of religious forms, he realized, is a fundamental fact in the lives of
men and women. Therefore the formalism of religion permeates play after
play. It is a part of the life of his age, and is, therefore, part of the world
that he creates. But the fundamental issues, of which religion in fact treats,
are not brought into the foreground. One instance of Shakespeare's reti-
cence and his reverence for the old Church is the fact that he never attacks
the clergy or religious of that Church, while he is always ready to smile at
the Puritans. The stage, moreover, is not the place either for religious
polemics or for the treatment of sacred themes. Neither the Mystery Plays
nor the Moral Plays come within Shakespeare's vast range of creation, and
this must hare been the result of deliberate choice. M. C. M.

BOOKS RECEIVED

ta?/ GarcS^Moreno. By the Hon. Mrs. Maxwell-Scott. Pp. 170. Virtues and Spirit-
ual Counsel of Father Novailles. Translated from the French. Pp. ix.-485. The Story
of St. Francis of Assist. By M. Alice Heins. Illustrated. The Story of the English Pope.
By F. M. Steele. (St. Nicholas Series.) Pp. 178. The Spiritual Ascent. A Devotional
Treatise. By Gerard of Zutphen. Pp. xviii.-i65. Price 85 cents net. Library of St. Fran-
cis de Sales. The Mystical Explanation of the Canticle of Canticles. By Francis de
Sales Depositions of St. Jane F. de Chantal. Pp. xix.-254. The Veneration of St. Agnes,
V M By Rev. Thomas Shearman, C.S.R. Pp. x.-i5o. Price 45 cents. Sermon Com-
position. A Method for Students. By Rev. G. S. Hitchcock, S.J. Pp. 91. Price 75
cents. A Textual Concordance of the Holy Scriptures. Arranged especially for the use
of preachers. By Rev. Thomas David Williams. Pp. 848. A Manual of Moral Theol-
o°y for English- Speaking Countries. By Rev. Thomas Slater, S.J. With notes on
American Legislation by Rev. Michael Martin, S.J. Pp. 522. Meditations for the Use
of Seminarians and Priests. By Very Rev. L. Branchereau, S.S. Translated and
adapted. Round the World. Vol. V. Illustrated. Price 85 cents. The English Ritual
Explained. By Rev. W. Dunne, B.A.
LONGMANS, GREEN & Co., New York:

Moral Instructions and Training in Schools. An International Inquiry. Edited on be-
half of the Committee. By M. E. Sadlier. 2 Vols. Pp. 537 and 398. Price $3.
Abba, Father. A Comment on the Lord's Prayer. By Walter Lowrie, M.A., Rector of
St. Paul's American Church, Rome. Pp.227. Price $i. New Light on Immortality.
By E. Fournier d 'Albe, M.R.I. A. With Illustrated Diagrams. Pp. 334. Price $1.75.
The Book of Princes and Princesses. By Mrs. Lang. Edited by Andrew Lang. Pp.
361. Price $1.75. Little Miss Quixote. By Robert Haymes and Dorothy Rose. Price
$i 50.
FR. PUSTET & Co., New York:

Irish Wit And Humor. Pp. viii.-239. Price 50 cents.
ST. PAUL'S LIBRARY, 122 East i8th Street, New York:

Short Discourses For All the Sundays of the Year. By Jonn McQuirk, D.D. Pp. xv.-36a.
THE INDUSTRIAL PUBLISHING COMPANY, 16 Thomas Street, New York:

The Evolution of the Atmosphere. By John Phin. Pp. xi.-igi. Price $1.25.
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & Co., New York :

He Can Who Thinks He Can. By Orison S. Marden. Pp. 245. Price $1.10.
THE EMPIRE PUBLISHING COMPANY, New York :

The Trial of Jesus. From a Lawyers Standpoint. By Walter M. Chandler. Vol. I.:

The Hebrew Trial; Vol. II.: The Roman Trial.
UNITED STATES CATHOLIC HISTORICAL SOCIETY, New York:

The Cosmographies Introductio of Martin Waldseemiiller in Facsimile. Pp. 151.
JOHN LANE & Co., New York :

Selected Poems of Francis Thompson. Pp. xix.-i42. Price $1.50.
HENRY HOLT & Co., New York :

Christ Legends. By Selma Lagerlof . Translated from the Swedish by Velma Swanston

Howard. Pp. 272.
LITTLE, BROWN & Co., Boston, Mass.:

Ideals of the Republic. By James Schouler, LL.D. Pp. xi.-3O4. Price $1.50.
SMALL, MAYNARD & Co., Boston, Mass.:

Corrie Who? By Maximilian Foster. Illustrated. Pp.483. Price $1.50. The Letters
of Jennie Allen to Htr Friend Miss Musgrove. By Grace Donworth. Pp. viii.-29i.
Price $1.50.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY, Boston, Mass.:

Buddhism and Immortality. By William S. Bigelow. Pp.75. Price 75 cents net.
GINN & Co., Boston, Mass.:

The New Hudson Shakespeare. King Henry the Fifth. The Tragedy of Macbeth. In-
troduction and Notes by Henry Norman Hudson, LL.D. Pp. Iv.-i76.
HEALTH-WEALTH PUBLISHING HOUSE, Lawrence, Mass. :

The Cure of Consumption, Coughs and Colds. By F. G. Kaessmann. Pp. 31. Paper.
Price 10 cents.

GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE, Washington, D. C.

Twenty-sixth Annual Report of the Bureau, etc., 1904-1905. Bureau of American Ethnol-
ogy. Pp. xxxi.-5i2.

M. H. WILTZIUS COMPANY, Milwaukee, Wis. :

The Business Side of Religion. By Rev. J. T. Roche, LL.D. Pp. 96. Paper.

B. HERDER, St. Louis:

A History of the Holy Eucharist in Great Britain. By T. E. Bridgett, C.SS.R. With
Notes by H. Thurston, S.J. Price $7. Ideals of Charity. By Virginia M. Crawford.
Price 75 cents The Martyrdom of Father Campion and His Companions. By William
Cardinal Allen. Edited by J. H. Pollen, S.J. Pp. xxi.-i38. Price $1.25. Roads to
Rome. Being Personal Records of Some of the More Recent Converts to the Catholic
Faith. Compiled and Edited by J. Godfrey Raupert. Price $1.35. Religious and
Monastic Lije Explained. Authorized Edition from the French of Dom Gue'ranger.
By Rev Jerome Veth, O.S. B. Price 50 cents. The Lord's Prayer and the Hail Mary.
Points lor Meditation. By Stephen Beissel, S.J. Price 90 cents.

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. LXXXVIII. JANUARY, 1909. No. 526.

GERARD HOPKINS.

AN EPITAPH AND AN APPRECIATION.
BY KATHERINE BREGY.

N the Jesuit church of St. Aloysius, Oxford, is a
holy water font of vari-colored marbles bearing
this simple inscription : In memory of Father
Gerard Hopkins, S.J,, who died June 8tht 1889.
R. I. P. Sometime Priest on this Mission. For-
merly of Balliol College. It was erected by two devoted friends
(the Baron and Baroness de Paravicini) and stands to-day as
one of the very few objective memorials of a fine and glowing
spirit — a poet who, when he shall come into his just inheri-
tance of human praise, may well be known as the Crashaw of
the Oxford Movement. Very early the imperious obediences
of the religious life took him from a purely literary career;
and early, too, came the great Silencer. Yet to examine his
few and scattered poems is to be convinced that the divine
fire burned upon his brow, once and until the end, albeit in
curious and unwonted arabesques.

Gerard Manley Hopkins was born at Stratford, near Lon-
don, the 28th of July, 1844. It was a year of pregnant sig-
nificance for English-speaking men and women. The Tracts

IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK.
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 28

434 GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.,

had done their work; the face of religion was changed; and
art and literature were destined to take on the rainbow color-
ing. That tremendous rediscovery of the Christian past — that
vision which included the mystic communion of all saints, the
Real and sacrificial Presence of the Living God, the brooding
empire of the Holy Ghost over an undivided Church — must
needs have stretched the horizon upon every side. Such
ideas are fountain-heads of art as well as of faith, in the sec-
ond harvesting. But meanwhile it was an interval of great
spiritual struggle. A few months more and John Henry New-
man was to break at last from that hopeless Via Media, blaz-
ing the pathway for so many souls " ex umbris et imaginibus in
veritatem." All through Gerard's childhood, and during his
preliminary education at the Cholmondeley School, Highgate,
this august exodus continued: Faber and the Oratorians were
followed by Manning, Aubrey and Stephen de Vere, the poet
Patmore, Mother Frances Raphael (Drane), Orby Shipley —
only the angels of God can number them all, but we do our
best ! And if to-day we bow down in spirit before that mighty
crusade of half a century ago, what must have been the moral
effect upon a highly sensitized contemporary spirit ? It was
an effect which found expression less in words than in the
complete fusing and fashioning of the spiritual energies; to
those who could receive, it provided both motive-power and
motive for existence.

We own no surprise, then, in discovering that the wood of
Gerard Hopkins' cross lay just beyond his doorsill. But in
the wise and sweet economy of life the cross for most of us is
piigrim-staff as well. Our poet's pathway was not destined to
lead beside the pleasant ways of gardener hearthstone; it was
to know conflict from without and from within; but his con-
solations, more especially in youth, were notable. By nature
— that is to say God — he had been rarely dowered. His in-
tellect was keen and scholarly, his imagination peculiarly quick,
subtle, and original; he was gifted musically and artistically,
and possessed, in the words of his poet-friend, Robert Bridges,
" humor, great personal charm, and the most attractive virtues
of a tender and sympathetic .nature." Above and beyond all
this, his was the awakened soul; and something of his absorb-
tion in spiritual things may be guessed from the opening stan-
zas of a little undated Hymn:

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 435

Thee, God, I come from, to Thee go ;
All day long I like fountain flow
From Thy hand out, swayed about
Mote-like in Thy mighty glow.

It was in October, 1866, his twenty-third year, that our poet
was received into the fold of the Catholic Church, finding there
the one unchanging haven of a life in which — to a degree mer-
cifully unknown by mediocre souls — God willed to cast not
peace but a sword.

One reckons among Gerard's lesser privileges his youthful
intercourse with that rare and cultured spirit, Walter Pater.
It was through the latter's preparation that he entered in 1867
upon his classical first course at Balliol College, Oxford. But
to those fair, scholastic precincts the young undergraduate had
brought a yet fairer vision — a burden of unrest, indeed, until
that vision should be wrought into reality. Just how early the
ascetic and sacerdotal ideal had taken possession of the con-
vert's heart one perceives from a poem of great beauty, "The
Habit of Perfection," written the year of his reception. All
through its stanzas rings the cry of that great renunciation
which was soon to be:

Elected Silence, sing to me

And beat upon my whorle'd ear,

Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.

Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb;

It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come

Which only makes you eloquent.

Be shelled, eyes, with double dark

And find the uncreated light:
This ruck and reel which you remark

Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

......

O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet

That want the yield of plushy sward,

But you shall walk the golden street,
And you unhouse and house the Lord.

436 GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.,

After those lines, we are prepared to find the fiery dawn
of a religious vocation hastening the expectant soul upon her
way. Gerard left Oxford : he made a brief — perhaps too brief,
but one feels safe in adding inspirational — sojourn with Car-
dinal Newman at Birmingham; and then, in 1868, he offered
his life to the Society of Jesus.

Father Hopkins proved true in all things to his elected
obligations; but on the bare objective side his priestly career is
quickly told. For awhile, and until the delicate, harassed spirit
almost broke beneath the strain, he labored in the wretched
slums of Liverpool. Later he was "select preacher" in Lon-
don ; and then we find him back at Oxford, in St. Aloysius*
Church. The one available portrait of Father Gerard pictures
him during this latter mission ; it shows a face of most deli-
cate and chastened beauty, with noble forehead and chin of
extraordinary determination — the face of a youthful, high-born
Englishman, whose eyes might have known Gethsemane. In
1844, having been elected Fellow of the Royal University of
Ireland, he was appointed to the post of classical examiner at
Dublin; where, five years later, he succumbed to a contagious
fever and died. Ic was a bloodless martyrdom — we know that
now : a story of tragic consecration to duty and of a heart
predestined to suffering. And the poetic life was but the silent,
passionate undercurrent to this all-absorbing ministry — a life
too ruthlessly mortified at first, then cultivated sedulously, in-
tricately, but more and more as a refuge from actual things.

Gerard Hopkins had written poetry as a boy ; in fact (like
Milton and Crashaw and some others never destined to a like
eminence!) his verses won him distinction at school. But in
the first fervor of his novitiate, and doubtless as a costly exer-
cise of detachment, he burned nearly all of these youthful
poems. One fragment survived, a " Vision of Mermaids," writ-
ten back in 1862. Its lyric sweetness has a momentary sug-
gestion of Tennyson — but in its sensuous love of beauty there
is an abiding affinity to the poet of " Endymion." Here is a
picture of early summer, charming in its blithe and sunny
abandonment :

Soon — as when Summer of her sister Spring
Crushes and tears the rare enjewelling,
And boasting " I have fairer things than these,"
Plashes amid the billowy apple-trees

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 437

His lusty hands, in gusts of scented wind
SarirKng out bloom till all the air is blind
With rosy foam and pelting blossom and mists
Of driving vermeil rain ; and, as he lists,
The dainty onyx-coronals deflowers,
A glorious wanton; — all the wrecks in showers
Crowd down upon a stream, and jostling thick
With bubbles bugle-eyed, struggle and stick
On tangled shoals that bar the brook — a crowd
Of filmy globes and rosy floating cloud.

The prodigal melodiousness, the simplicity of meter, and
the colorful word-painting of this early poem are all notable;
but still, it is manifestly an early poem ! One feels that it
lacks distinction, individuality — that the poet whose touch was
most indubitably here had yet to " find himself/'

" The Habit of Perfection," quoted above rather as a page
of character- revelation than as a piece of art, was written four
years later. It is in all ways more significant. For, while,
retaining that delicate and exquisite sweetness, it bears dis-
tinct prophecy of those characteristics which were to mark our
poet's maturer work; the subjectivity and intensity of feeling,
the eccentricity of expression and preoccupation with spiritual
ideas, are all here foreshadowed. It is, indeed, one of the
most interesting and revealing of his poems — the Abrenuntio
of a pure and cloistral spirit. But it came perilously near be-
ing a valedictory as well. For almost ten years after entering
the Jesuit novitiate, Gerard Hopkins' poetic labors ceased, and
his lips seem literally to have " shaped nothing " but the mighty
offices of his calling. When the young levite turned once
more to the world, her immemorial face held manifold and
mysterious meanings for him. With the poet's sensuous ap-
preciation of the outer life was to mingle henceforth a vein of
ethical and divine interpretation. Omnia creata — had he not
weighed and sounded this world of shadow and symbol and
enigma? But two realities abode steadfast: God and the strug-
gling soul of man !

We will admit that all this is emphatically Ignatian — but it
is also emphatically catholic : it is the story of every illumined
soul. Nature is first a pageant to us, and then a process; and
at last we perceive it to be, in Carlyle's words, the "garment

458 GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.,

of God11 — and, withal, the enveloping mantle of man. This
deepening of vision is noticeable throughout Father Hopkins'
work, as it has been in the work of many another authentic
poet. And always the world was fresh to him, as it is fresh
to children and to the very mature. At every turn, and by
sheer force of his own vivid individuality, he was finding that
" something of the unexplored," that " grain of the unknown,"
which Flaubert so sagely counselled de Maupassant to seek in
all things; but which none of us may ever hope to find until
we cease looking upon life through the traditional lenses of
other eyes. Therefore was Father Hopkins Ignatian in his own
very personal way. Few men have loved nature more raptur-
ously than he; fewer still with such a youthful and perennial
curiosity. There is a tender excitement in his attitude toward
natural beauty (whether treated incidentally or as a parable)
that is very contagious, and the exultation of that early and
earthly Vision clung to the young monk almost with life itself.
Nature, indeed, was his one secular inspiration ; and that even
she was not wholly secular is evinced by the characteristic
music of his spring song :

Nothing is so beautiful as spring —

When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush:

Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and ring

The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;

The glassy pear-tree leaves and blooms, they brush

The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush

With richness; the racing lambs, too, have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy ?

A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning

In Eden garden. — Have, get before it cloy,

Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,

Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,

Most, O Maid's Child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Here at last, in one of the most hackneyed of poetic sub-
jects, we are come upon an original vein of poetry; a spiritual
motivation, a vigor of word-painting, and a metrical proficiency
of very real distinction. It was written in 1877, and its ex-
istence argues for Father Hopkins more than a mere dilettante
use of the poetic faculty.

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 439

Another sonnet of the same year, "The Starlight Night,"
is almost equally striking in music and in metaphor. But it
must be acknowledged that both of these poems bear traces of
that eccentricity and occasional ambiguity which point forward
to Father Hopkins1 eventual excesses. Lucidity was the chief
grace he sacrificed as years wore on ; and his fondness for un-
common words — at one moment academic and literate, at an-
other provincial — did not help matters. " Inversnaid " (written
in 1881) is an extreme instance of his later manner: there is a
certain bounding and prancing charm about it, but, in truth,
the stream's highroad is sadly obstructed by Anglo-Saxon and
other archaic undergrowth. Wiry heathpacks — flitches of fern —
and the groins of the braes [that the brook treads through, send
the reader's mind back with some ruefulness to that lovely
random line from the " Vision of Mermaids " :

To know the dusk depths of the ponderous sea !

We are not born original in these latter days of literature,
it would seem ; we must achieve originality — and often at the
cost of so much complexity ! Not a few of us, indeed, would
appear to have been born complex, with a congenital impulse
toward entangling an existence already difficult enough. But
there is one ineradicable simplicity about religious men — they
are always coming back upon God. To Him they reach out,
and peradventure attain, through the mysteries of nature,
through the mazes of science and abstract speculation, even
through the fundamental intricacies of their own temperament.
His Spirit they perceive brooding above the patient earth,
glorifying and illumining her travail. And so we find Father
Hopkins' ultimate message, clarion-clear, in this very direct and
characteristic sonnet upon "God's Grandeur":

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil ;

It gathers to a greatness like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck His rod ?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod ;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And bears man's smudge, and shares man's smell ; the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

44o GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.,

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights from the black west went,
Oh, morning at the brown brink eastwards springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast, and with, ah, bright wings !

The vital and arresting quality of that little poem distin-
guishes all of Gerard Hopkins' religious poetry; and it is in
his religious quality, after all, that he attained most unequivo-
cally. There is an invariable quickness and reality in his work
— although at moments it may also be a bit fantastic — at the
very point where the tendency of so many other poets is to
become a little cold or a little sweet. We may search for
many a long day among the treasures of English Catholic verse
before we shall find such a powerful and poetic meditation
upon the Holy Eucharist as he has left us. We quote but
two stanzas of "Barnfloor and Winepress," although the entire
poem ought to have the recognition due to a devotional classic:

Thou who on Sin's wages starvest,

Behold, we have the Joy of Harvest:

For us was gathered the First-fruits,

For us was lifted from the roots,

Sheaved in cruel bands, bruised sore,

Scourged upon the threshing-floor,

Where the upper millstone roofed His Head,

At morn we found the Heavenly Bread ;

And on a thousand altars laid,

Christ our Sacrifice is made.

Thou, whose dry plot for moisture gapes,

We shout with them that tread the grapes;

For us the Vine was fenced with thorn,

Five ways the precious branches torn.

Terrible fruit was on the tree

In the acre of Gethsemane:

For us by Calvary's distress

The Wine was racked from the press;

Now, in our altar-vessels stored,

Lo, the sweet vintage of the Lord!

In quite other vein, and of real lyric charm, is " Rosa Mys-
tica." Father Hopkins has contrived to throw a glamor of sim-

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 441

plicity and ingenuousness over thoughts by no means simple;
while the use of assonance and alliteration (frequent and nearly
always felicitous throughout his work) and of the refrain, pro-
vide a very rhythmic vehicle. There was a rose-tree blooming
once upon Nazareth Hill, he tells us — with the playful serious-
ness of some old ballad — but it passed from men's eyes into
the secret place of God : and cannot the heart guess the name
of this sweet mystery ?

Is Mary that Rose, then ? Mary, the tree ?

But the Blossom, the Blossom there, who can it be ?

Who can her Rose be? It could be but One;

Christ Jesus, our Lord — her God and her Son.

In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine,

Show me thy Son, Mother, Mother of mine.

What was the colour of that blossom bright?

White to begin with, immaculate white.

But what a wild flush on the flakes of it stood,

When the Rose ran in crimsonings down the Cross- wood.

In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine

I shall worship the Wounds with thee, Mother of mine,

Our well-loved Francis Thompson was, in life and in death,
often hailed as the successor of Crashaw. But the mantle of
that mystic dreamer and songster fell far more truly upon the
shoulders of Gerard Hopkins. His was not merely the exu-
berant fancy ever bursting into curious and striking analogies,
but the intimate and childlike tenderness, the metrical cunning,
and the almost impeccable ear for lyric music which character-
ized the older poet. His was the same wistful pathos and reso-
lute detachment from life's more passional aspects. In both
men was a similar tragic sensitiveness — an inevitable recoil from
the inconsistency and ugliness and corruption which are a part
of human existence. So it seems natural enough, despite the
intervening centuries, that even the objective facts of their lives
should bear a curious resemblance ; and that both poets should
pass, painfully but unreluctantly, into the larger life — wearied
and forespent ere half their years !

But to return to the poetry : we have yet to consider an
ode of extraordinary beauty, and of a sustained lyric ecstasy
not unworthy of Shelley or Swinburne. The poem — which,

442 GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.

lacking a better title, I have ventured to call " Our Lady of
the Air" — is the longest and perhaps the most ambitious po-
etic effort Father Hopkins has bequeathed us. It is built around
a unique and powerful metaphor:

Wild Air, world- mothering Air,
Nestling me everywhere,
That each eyelash or hair
Girdles; goes home betwixt
The fleeciest, frailest fixed
Snowflake; that's fairly mixed
With riddles, and is rife
In every least thing's life;
This needful, never spent,
And nursing element;
My more than meat and drink,
My meal at every wink ;
This Air which, by life's law,
My lung must draw and draw,
Now, but to breathe its praise —
Minds me in many ways
Of her, who not only
Gave God's Infinity
Dwindled to Infancy
Welcome in womb and breast,
Birth, milk and all the rest,
But mothers each new grace
That does now reach our race —
Mary Immaculate,
Merely a Woman, yet
Whose presence power is
Great as no goddess's
Was deemed, dreamed ; who
This one work has to do —
Let all God's glory through,
God's glory which would go
Through her and from her flow
Off, and no .way but so.

If I have understood,

She holds high Motherhood

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 443

Towards all our ghostly good,
And plays in grace her part
About man's beating heart,
Laying, like air's fine flood,
The death-dance in his blood;
Yet no part but what will
Be Christ our Saviour still.
Of her flesh He took Flesh:
He does take, fresh and fresh,
Though much the mystery how,
Not flesh but spirit now;
And makes, oh, marvellous,
New Nazareths in us,
Where she shall yet conceive
Him, morning, noon, and eve;
New Bethlems, and He born
There evening, noon, and morn —
Bethlem or Nazareth,
Men here may draw like breath
More Christ and baffle death ;
Who born so comes to be
New self and nobler me
In each one, and each one
More makes, when all is done,
Both God and Mary's Son.

In a vivid passage commencing :

Again, look overhead

How air is azured;

Oh, how ; nay, do but stand

Where you can lift your hand

Skywards-—

the poet analyzes the essential mission of the atmosf^ere, and
the blinding, staggering possibilities of a universe unslaked by
this "bath of blue." And the simile is brought to a tender
and beautiful conclusion:

So God was God of old :
A Mother came to mould

•V

These limbs like ours which are
What must make our Day-star

444 GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.,

Much dearer to mankind;
Whose glory bare would blind,
Or less would win man's mind.
Through her we may see Him
Made sweeter, not made dim ;
And her hand leaves His light
Sifted, to suit our sight.

There exist but a few other poems bearing Father Hopkins'
name. A short but characteristic piece, " Morning, Midday,
and Evening Sacrifice," would be included among the devo-
tional lyrics ; also that direct and manly Hymn referred to
early in, this paper. And there is one white rose of a frag-
ment, so brief and so exquisite that we give it entire :

"HEAVEN HAVEN."

(A Nun Takes the Veil.)
I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,

To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail,
And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,

Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

Thinking about heaven makes all of us wistful; but it is
pondering on the tear-stains and blood-stains of earth that
crushes out the joy of life. Father Gerard had, seemingly
from boyhood, a dangerous realization of this omnipresent
sorrow of living; his own experience did not tend to lighten
the burden, and throughout his later years the weight was
well-nigh intolerable. Sanely enough he gauged the cause of
so much bitterness; it was the "blight man was born for" if
he happened to be an idealist — it was the consciousness of his
own too twisted nature ! " It is Margaret you mourn for," he
told one little Margaret when she was grieving over the fall-
ing glory of autumn: but, none the less, outer conditions will
all along furnish the occasion of Margaret's grief. There can-
not be any doubt that Father Hopkins' life in Dublin was a
final crucifixion of spirit as well as body. It was not only the
monotonous and consuming toil of his position as examiner in
the University; it was not merely the political corruption by

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 445

which he was perforce surrounded; although we are told that
these combined to plunge his final years into a state of utter
dejection. One of the sonnets of this period (all of which are
colored by an ominous and leaden gray !) reveals his sense of
exile — "To seem the stranger lies my lot — my life among
strangers'1 — and expresses his human and priestly sorrow that

Father and mother dear,
Brothers and sisters are in Christ not near.

But another indicates that the cause of Father Hopkins'
darkness lay deeper down than loneliness (too familiar to the
sons of St. Ignatius ! ) or than any normal weariness of the
day's work. Few lines of such haunting sadness have come to
us from the hand of any Christian poet :

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend

With Thee ; but, sir, so what I plead is just,

Why do sinners' ways prosper ? and why must

Disappointment all I endeavour end ?

Wert Thou my enemy, O Thou my Friend,

How couldst thou worse, I wonder, than Thou dost

Defeat, thwart me ? . . .

We must surmise a great part of this last struggle; but it
would seem to illustrate that spiritual phenomenon of desola-
tion which has immersed so many a chosen soul. For full
thirty years was St. Theresa in this desert land, where frus-
tration reigns in all visible things, and to lose the life without
finding it again seems the guerdon of superhuman effort. Of
course it is impossible to write healthy poetry in the depths
of this tragic experience : and Father Hopkins was too true a
poet not to realize the fact. He submitted^ the very year of
his death, his noble and highly masterful apologia:

To , 1889.

The fine delight that fathers thought ; the strong
Spur, live and lancing like the blowpipe flame,
Breathes once, and quenched faster it came,
Leaves yet the mind a mother of immortal song.
Nine months she then, nay years, nine years she long
Within her wears, bears, cares and moulds the same :
The widow of an insight lost she lives, with aim
Now known, and hand at work now never wrong.

446 GERARD HOPKINS [Jan.,

Sweet fire, the sire of muse, my soul needs this;

I want the one rapture of an inspiration.

O then if in my lagging lines you miss

The roll, the rise, the carol, the creation,

My winter world, that scarcely breathes that bliss

Now, yields you, with some sighs, our explanation.

His winter world ! It was destined sooner than he dreamed
to give place to the unwaning spring. Dr. Bridges (to whose
words we turn once again, because the knowledge of a physician
as well as the wisdom of a friend went into them) declares
that our poet made no struggle for life when the fever of 1889
attacked him. He had fought his good fight and carried arms
no longer: but the God of Battles knew. And on the 8th of
June — the month he had loved so well! — Gerard Hopkins' soul
marched quietly over the borderland to victory.

But little remains to be said. The poems have been per-
mitted to speak for themselves, and if their faults are con-
spicuous enough, so too is their unique and magnetic attrac-
tion. No doubt this is in the nature of an acquired taste.
They were not written for the public (during their maker's
lifetime not one of them was put into print !) they were written
for the consolation of the poet and a few chosen friends. And
to such readers no concessions need be made. Father Hop-
kins' very delicate craftsmanship — and not less the singularity
of his mental processes — might produce on some minds an im-
pression of artificiality. Yet nothing could be further from the
fact, for in all the poems of his manhood there is a poignant,
even a passionate sincerity. It is quite true that his elliptical
and involved expression mars more than one poem of rare and
vital imagining. It is true also, and of the nature of the case,
that our poet was to a certain degree self-centered in his
dream of life. He was not an egoist ; but it must be obvious
that from first to last he was an individualist. And in our
human reckonings the individualist pays, and then he pays
again; and after that, in Wilde's phrase, he keeps on paying!
Yet in the final count his chances of survival are excellent.
Outside of the poets, Father Hopkins' work has had no recog-
nition and no understanding; but his somewhat exotic in-
fluence might easily be pointed out in one or two of the fore-
most Catholic songsters of to-day. And for all its aloofness,

1909.] GERARD HOPKINS 447

the young priest's work struck root in the poetic past. Its
subtle and complex fancifulness and its white heat of spiritual-
ity go back in direct line to that earlier Jesuit, Father South-
well; while one would wager that Hopkins knew and loved
other seventeenth-century lyrists beside the very manifest Cra-
shaw. It is by no means without significance, moreover, to
note that Coventry Patmore's Odes "To the Unknown Eros,"
and Browning's masterpiece " The Ring and the Book," both
appeared in that memorable 1868 when Gerard entered upon
his novitiate. Those were the days when a young poet might,
almost without public comment, fling out to the world his
daring and beautiful gift.

After all there is nothing sadder in the world of letters
than a fragment — unless it be a fragmentary genius ! And al-
ways in proportion to the magic of the fragment, and to its
promise, is the depth of this sadness. We can nowise escape
such a shadow of incompleteness in treating Father Hopkins'
work. We cannot, as yet, gather the fundamental materials
for more than a tentative criticism. His poems are scattered
in a few precious anthologies, still awaiting the zeal of col-
lector and editor. It seems probable, unless he himself de-
stroyed them during the last years, that a number of them are
still — somewhere — in manuscript form ; for of those already
published, about one-third have been given in this article.
Merely great poetry is, of course, seldom popular; although
the greatest of all poetry — that of Homer and Dante and
Shakespeare — strikes a universal echo in the hearts of men.
It is inclusive, and it is written not as an escape from life but
as the inevitable and impassioned expression of life itself.
Gerard Hopkins' artistry was not of this supreme sort. He
was essentially a minor poet: he wrote incredibly little and
he interpreted few phases of human experience. But, with the
minor poet's distinctive merit, he worked his narrow field with
completeness and intensity. And who can deny that the very
quality which seemed, at worst, an eccentric and literate man-
nerism, proved itself in the finer passages a strikingly original
and authentic inspiration ?

NOTE. — Father Hopkins' published verses can be found in the following volumes : Orby
Shipley's Carmina Mariana, Canon Beeching's Lyra Sacra, and Miles' Poets and Poetry of the
Century, Vol. VIII. ; which last contains also Robert Bridges' critique.

The author desires to acknowledge her indebtedness to Miss Louise Imogen Guiney for
many otherwise inaccessible details of our poet's history.

IN THE SIERRA MADRE.

BY CHRISTIAN REID.

|HE is a noble-hearted creature," a man of much
penetration had once said of Eleanor Bering,
"but, like all the rest of us, she has the defects
of her qualities. What are they ? Well, chiefly
perhaps an ardent idealism which leads her to
feel a strong desire to play Providence to her fellow-creatures,
to lift them up to certain heights, and to set their feet in paths
where she thinks they should go." He paused a moment.
" It's rather a dangerous business," he added meditatively, "and
some day she may come to grief over it."

Granting the accuracy of this forecast, it was at least cer-
tain that the day prophesied had not yet dawned when Miss
Bering felt herself moved so strongly to play Providence to
the social derelict whom she met in the wilds of the Sierra.
The idea of holding out a hand of possible rescue to him
had, as we know, occurred to her as soon as she heard his
story ; but when he entered her path in such strangely oppor-
tune fashion, it seized her with the force of fascination. That
a charm in the man himself had anything to do with this she
would not have acknowledged, yet there could be no doubt
that Trescott possessed a singular attraction for women, the
more powerful because unconsciously exercised ; and this charm
was not lessened, but rather — for a woman of Eleanor Bering's
temperament — increased by the -shadow which now lay over
him, which had worn the lines on his face and put the haunted
look in his eyes. The ardent heart within her went out to
help — to help; and to this end she exerted all her own charm
to influence the man whom she felt instinctively would be pe-
culiarly susceptible to such influence from his long exile.

It was indeed like stepping back into another half-forgotten
world to Trescott that evening at Las Joyas— " The Jewels,"
as the little ranch in the far heights was poetically called.

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 449

In order to obtain food for the large number of animals in the
train, it was necessary to gain, if possible, one of these widely
separated ranches for the night's halt. But the camp was
made quite away from the rude house or patch of cultivated
land. It was in an open space under a group of noble, soar-
ing pines that the great blazing fire of resinous boughs threw
its rich radiance over the white canvas of the tent erected
near-by ; over the moving forms of men and animals ; over
the piles of pack-saddles and other equipment for the road;
over the table improvised on the top of the camp chest, from
which the materials to set it forth in such strangely civilized
fashion were drawn ; on the handsome, typically worldly face
of Mr. Bering, who spent half his time promoting great min-
ing ventures in the chief capitals of Europe, and the other
half looking after them in the remote wilds where nature
buries her treasures; and on Eleanor Bering as she sat with
her hat thrown aside, the brilliant firelight playing over her
fair hair and showing the frank delight of her lovely face.

And this delight was not only in the picturesqueness of
her surroundings, in the cool, aromatic breath of the night at
this high elevation, and in the sense of the great, trackless
Sierra, with its mystery and its awe, its mighty heights, its
chasms, torrents, and forests which encompassed them ; but in
the fact that, for the present at least, Trescott was, so to speak,
safely under her hand, the guest of her father, and apparently
not ill pleased to come once more in touch with the world he
had forsaken.

Perhaps Mr. Bering himself felt this, as he talked to the
man who had been his subordinate long enough for him to
know something of his fine skill as engineer and draughtsman ;
for presently, as they sat by the fire smoking, he remarked
carelessly :

" Isn't it about time for you to go back to civilization,
Trescott ? It strikes me that you've been in the Sierra as
long as it's well to remain."

In the pause which followed this speech, Trescott was aware
that Eleanor, who had been accompanying their conversation
by lightly touching the strings of a mandolin which one of
the music loving Mexicans had brought along, suddenly held
her hand motionless on the last chord, and he knew that she
was listening for his answer. It came a little constrainedly.
VOL. LXXXVIII —29

45o IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

" Civilization does not offer anything very tempting to me,"
he said; "while, as it chances, the Sierra offers a good deal
of solid value."

" As for example — ? "

" An extremely good gold prospect out in the Sierra be-
yond Urbeleja, for one thing."

" Indeed ! " The seasoned promoter pricked up his ears.
" If it's anything very good, you might let your friends in-
to it. You know you can't handle a really paying prospect
alone. If you had only let me know before I left the Santa
Catalina, I'd have gone out there and looked at it, and per-
haps have carried it to London with me, where I'm going to
float some other properties. Even now — but, no" — regretfully
— " it would mean several days, and I must make Durango
by the fifteenth, so as to keep an appointment in New York
on the twentieth."

Eleanor saw relief clearly stamped on the countenance over
which the firelight played revealingly. "Either he hasn't any
prospect," she thought, " or it is only an excuse to stay here."

" It isn't really in shape yet for such promoting as yours,"
Trescott was meanwhile saying. "You know you only care to
handle big things. One couldn't ask a million or two for a
prospect like this."

" There's no telling what it might become, however. Has
it ever been worked before? How wide a vein have you?
And how much ore in sight?"

The information was given without hesitation and with ex-
plicit directness; but also with a lack of interest which struck
Eleanor, if not her father. " He cares nothing about it," she
said to herself. " It is only an excuse."

"Hum!" Mr Dering pondered. "That may be something
very large. If I could only have seen it ! Tell you what,
Trescott, you can surely join us for a few days in our ride
through the Sierra. Not to speak of the pleasure of your so-
ciety, your knowledge of the country will be invaluable — I don't
believe any of these rascals of mine know much about the trails
— and you can give me all the points about your mine, as well
as about the other mineral resources of this region."

Trescott was so much surprised by the wild desire which
leaped within him to agree to this proposal, that for a moment
he did not reply. Then he said, almost sternly:

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 451

" Impossible. I am now on my way to attend to some
business. "

" It can't be pressing — nobody's business is in the Sierra,"
Mr. Dering urged, with incontrovertible knowledge of the coun-
try. "You'd better come with us. It'll do you good, and per-
haps save Eleanor from breaking her neck over some precipice
I'm certain it isn't every day that such a social opportunity
is offered you."

" It may be that the social opportunity is a drawback rather
than an inducement," said a soft voice.

Trescott looked quickly across at the girl leaning forward
in the firelight, and what he read in the beautiful, eager eyes
fell like a weight in the scale of his hesitation.

"On the contrary," he said, "the inducement is so great
that I find myself unable to resist it. For a few days, then "
— to Mr. Dering — " I shall be glad to accompany you. I am
a better guide than Alejandro, at least; and, perhaps" — he
looked again at Eleanor — " I may be able to show you some
things in the Sierra which you might miss without me."

Once in every man's life, although generally for a very brief
space of time, the gates of Paradise open, and entering he
dwells within, breathing enchanted airs, wandering down flowery
ways, over meadows starred with asphodel and under the shade
of perfume laden boughs. Like Adam he does not linger there
alone, and, like Adam also, when he goes forth he never re-
turns, however long the years of life may be. Nor is it in ex-
treme youth that he is most likely to find his way within these
gates. He must have wandered in the desert, and drank the
bitter waters of life, before he can feel the divine loveliness of
the green shades, or taste the sweetness of the sparkling foun-
tains.

These gates opened for Trescott when he rode by Eleanor
Bering's side out of the camp of Las Joyas the next morning.
He had said to himself, with a certain recklessness, that for a
few days — a few days only — he would enjoy the pleasure of an
association such as he had never known before and was never
likely to know again. But he had a sense of something more
than this as the forest opened its arms to them and the trail
led upward into yet higher regions. It was as if in following
it, through the crystal beauty of the early day, he were leav-

452 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

ing the past and all that it contained behind and mounting into
a new existence.

And never had existence, old or new, a more idyllic set-
ting than the Sierra gave. When they had gained the summit
up which they had climbed, and, freshened in every energy by
the airs which awaited them, rode onward at a quickened pace,
it was into a veritable region of enchantment that they entered,
for again the trail led them over a vast plateau, where tall
pines and evergreen oaks rose in columned stateliness to im-
mense height, while the interlacing boughs formed overhead an
expanse of foliage through which the faintest wandering breeze
woke a murmur like the voice of the sea. And then it car-
ried them through winding defiles between the hills, full of
such enchanting loveliness of trees and interlacing vines and
swiftly fleeting water, that nature, like a siren, seemed breath-
ing on every side alluring invitations to linger. " Why do you
hasten?" leafy depths and gleaming water murmured. "Life
is long and sad, and its dusty plains are many. You may never
again see anything to gladden your eyes so beautiful and fresh
as this. Stay with us — stay 1 " " It required," Eleanor wistfully
remarked, "more than the courage of Ulysses to resist these se-
ductive invitations, and ride on."

For the noon rest they halted in a region of mighty rocks
resembling castles, fortresses, and towers. Like tokens of some
forgotten warfare of the gods, the stupendous masses lay in the
verdurous forest, while the pigmy forms of men and animals
wound among them like passing shadows, of as little account as
the squirrels that played over their hoary battlements. What
was it to them that some of these insignificant beings leveled
impertinent cameras at their majesty of ages, or dashed their
outlines down upon paper? It was Trescott who, by Miss Der-
ing's request, sketched some of the splendid masses, with much
fanciful talk and weaving of tales about them.

" Are those Aztec myths, or are they your own ? " Elea-
nor presently asked.

' They are my own conception of what the primitive mind
would have thought," he replied, smiling. " I am presump-
tuous enough to believe that I know something of the primi-
tive mind, because the people of these mountains — who are not
Aztec at all, by the way, but a pure Indian race of great an-
tiquity— are wonderfully primitive in their ideas, traditions,
and customs."

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 453

"You seem to know them very well."

" I have eaten their bread and salt for many days. I
should know them well."

There was a pause. The sketch grew under his hand,
while Miss Bering looked away to where Alejandro had lighted
a small fire to boil water for tea. The pale blue smoke rose
beautifully into the still, sunlit air, amid the gray, lichened
rocks and the abounding foliage of the trees. Mr. Bering
lay stretched out in the shade upon a gay- colored blanket, the
mozos were loosening the pack-saddles, that the mules might
feed in comfort on the rich grass — the whole scene was full of
the charm of this outdoor life, with all its suggestions of
gypsy-like freedom, its association with things wild and de-
lightful.

" Just now," she said, " I can imagine the conditions of
such lives as those better than any other. The world of what
we call civilization seems so infinitely remote. What have we
to do with cities, railroads, theaters, libraries, nay, even with
houses and the lives of those who live in them ? We have
gone back to the primitive world, to the heart of nature. We,
too, can sing :

" ' Under the greenwood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And tune his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither,

Here shall he see

No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.' "

Through the clear atmosphere her sweet, gay voice was
borne to the ear of Mr. Bering. He turned his head and re-
garded her with a smile, in which was much satirical amuse-
ment, as well as pitying indulgence.

"You would soon find that 'winter and rough weather'
were enemies enough, if you were exposed to them," he said.
"Lying under the greenwood tree is all very well as we are
at present, but a storm or two puts a different face on the
Sierra. And you mustn't forget that there are occasionally
some enemies here besides winter and rough weather — else we
shouldn't see quite so many crosses along the road."

454

IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

A quick cloud fell over the brightness of the girl's face.
" Mr. Trescott says that those were all put there a long time
ago," she hastily answered. " He says that although there were
once a great many bandits among these wild heights, every-
thing of that kind is over, and the Sierra is now perfectly safe."

" He's quite right," Mr. Bering answered carelessly. " Un-
der ordinary circumstances the Sierra is safe enough, the ban-
dits have all been shot and travelers are not interferred with.
But if I had an enemy, I shouldn't particularly care to meet
him out on these trails. I've heard of a few crosses being put
up, even in my time."

"Why should we talk of such things?" asked Eleanor im-
patiently. " They are very inappropriate to these beautiful
scenes! I am sure that nobody is killed in the Sierra now;
but — if such things did happen — we have no enemies to fear."

" Probably not," assented her father lazily — " Oyet hombre"
he cried suddenly and angrily in Spanish, as he lifted himself on
his elbow, "what is the meaning of this? Why don't you look
after your mules better ? "

" Pardon, senor " ; answered a tall, dark-browed arriero,
who had come dashing into the camp after several of his pack-
mules, who, at sight of the feeding animals of the Santa Catalina
party, had left the trail to join them. "The mules got away
so suddenly that we had not time to stop them." Then his
glance fell on Trescott, whom the commotion startled into look-
ing up from his drawing, and a sudden expression of unmis-
takable surprise appeared on his face. "Buenos dias, Don
Felipe," he said, with the air and manner of an old acquaint-
ance.

Trescott nodded in reply, and then as the mules were driven
off and quiet restored, Miss Bering said :

" It must be very pleasant to feel that all these people are
your friends."

" I don't particularly care to include that man in my list
of friends," Trescott answered. " He's rather a bad proposi-
tion."

" He seems to know you."

"Oh, yes, he knows me; his business is that of conducting
pack-trains to and fro through the Sierra, and we have met—
on the road and elsewhere."

"What is his name?"

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 455

It was a careless question ; but Trescott paused for an in-
stant before answering it.

" His name," he said, " is Cruz — and his appearance, con-
sidering that we were just talking of crosses, seems rather an
odd coincidence.'1

" It is odd," she agreed. " And he looks— I don't want to
do injustice to one who is probably an estimable citizen — but
he looks as if he might, under other circumstances, have aided
in putting up a cross or two himself."

Trescott laughed. " I don't think you do him injustice,"
he said. " I'm afraid there's no doubt that he has missed his
vocation, owing to these dull times of law and order. A few
decades ago he would have done a much better business put-
ting up crosses along these trails than he now does in taking
trains of merchandise over them."

" But it is a time of law and order — he wouldn't venture to
do anything of the kind now?"

"Not without great provocation, and unless he fancied the
chances for escaping detection good. Given those chances,
however, I don't think he would hesitate a moment." Then he
looked up with an air of relief. "Alejandro is announcing la
comida" he said.

There followed a pleasant half-hour round the camp-chest,
with its plentiful supply of solid food, together with claret and
tea. Then another half-hour of smoking on the part of the
men and of much gay talk on the part of all, while the mozos%
with many shouts and adjurations, replaced their burdens on the
backs of the mules. Then, all things being again in order, they
put themselves once more in the saddle, and resumed their
march through the fair green solitudes. As they rode away
Eleanor turned and waved her hand in farewell to the sylvan
loveliness of the spot where they had rested.

" It makes me sad to think that I may never see it again,"
she said, meeting Trescott's eyes. " There is something about
this journey which seems singularly typical ot life, although, of
course, all journeys are that, in more or less degree. We linger
for awhile in these enchanting places, and then, whether we
wish it or not, we must pass on and leave them behind."

" As sooner or later we leave everything behind."

"Yes; but one doesn't often feel that, as I feel it here.
For, you see, I am not coming back."

456 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

"You are not returning with your father?"
"No; papa thinks that the Santa Catalina is no place for
me, and that I should go to my aunt in Paris. It will be —
But what is he saying ? Oh, he wants us to ride faster and
pass this pack- train. Andale, Bonita ! Show what you can do,
my pretty mula ! See, Mr. Trescott, it is the same pack- train
that disturbed our camp. I remember the face of the tall ar»
—Sind how he stares at us ! "

VI.

At Los Charcos — which was the name of the Lopez ranch —
there had been no change in the outward aspect of things since
Trescott first rode up to the log house. The work on the
mine, now safely " denounced," had as yet brought no money
to any one concerned ; and the simple life of the household
went on in all its details just as it had before the advent of
the stranger, whom its members now regarded as almost one
of themselves.

Only to one of them had his coming made a difference so
great that when he was gone, even for a short absence, it was
as if the sun vanished out of heaven. With the intense passion
of her race, Ramona had merged her very existence into that
of the man who seemed to her to belong to a higher order of
being, and yet had stooped from this order to her lowliness.
That she was happy in the strange fact that he had found
something in her to attract his regard and tenderness there
could be no doubt; but this happiness was always shadowed
by the fear she had once expressed. " You cannot stay in the
Sierra always,'* she said, " and when you go away what will
you do with poor Ramona, who knows nothing?" He had in-
deed assured her that she knew all he desired, and that, having
no more part in the world "out yonder," the Sierra would
always content him ; but even then a deep instinct had kept
her from really believing this; and as time went on the dread
of inevitable change, of the time when he would feel a call
summoning him back to his own people and his old life, lay
always like a weight upon her heart.

This was especially the case when, as now frequently hap-
pened, Trescott left Los Charcos on one excuse or another —
really impelled by a growing spirit of restlessness — and was

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 457

absent for several days together. She did not know that this
restlessness was bringing about the psychological moment when
an influence out of the past might find him prepared to yield
to it ; but she feared and distrusted all that foreboded change.
It was with a sadly yearning heart, therefore, that she had seen
him ride away on the fateful day when he met Eleanor Bering
on the brink of the Quebrada Honda, and two days later she
wandered out at twilight to the end of the arroyo opening into
the valley, in the faint, hardly defined hope of meeting him on
his possible return.

As she went, breathing the sweet, fresh odors of resinous
trees and plants and listening to the voice of the stream, which
rushed in wild tumult down the gorge, to fall, on issuing, into
the pools (los charcos) which gave its name to the ranch, she
had a sense of pleasure in these things which it would have
been absolutely impossible for her to express. She was a true
daughter of the Sierra, inasmuch as they thrilled to her inmost
being, and when away she pined for them as a dumb animal
pines for that to which it has been accustomed. But to analyze
or describe her sensations with regard to them was far beyond
her power. Dimly, but only dimly, conscious of her pleasure,
she was standing by one of the pools, listening to the deep
music of the stream, when she suddenly saw an unwelcome
sight — a pack-train, emerging from the arroyo, the loaded ani-
mals coming in single file along the shelf-like trail, with the
whistles and cries, the admonishing "Macho!" " Mula / " of
the arrteros sounding behind them.

Her heart sank. There were many pack-trains crossing the
Sierra beside that of Cruz Sanchez, but few of them ever came
to Los Chatcos, and she had an immediate instinct that this
was his. He had not been at the ranch since he was dis-
missed as her suitor, and she had cherished the hope that he
would not come again, but now she knew that the hope was
vain ; that he had come. That his coming tallied so exactly
with the absence of Trescott seemed an ill omen. It could
not have happened by calculation, she knew, unless — unless —
Had the men met on the way, and was Cruz coming to tell
her that the gringo to whom she had given her heart was lying
dead in some dark pass with a knife thrust in his back? The
extreme improbability that if this were so Cruz would come to
tell her of it, thereby convicting himself of a crime for which

458 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

there is short, sharp shrift in Mexico, did not occur to her.
A wild panic of fear and foreboding seized and rooted her to
the spot where she stood. She hardly looked at the long train
of laden animals as they went by, nor at the men accompany-
ing them. She was waiting for the man who came last, and
who proved to be, as instinct had forewarned her, no other
than Cruz,

He halted in his surprise at meeting her, and as they stood
for an instant regarding each other, he read the deadly fear
and anxiety in her eyes. It gave him a distinct gratification,
as any proof of power affords gratification to certain natures.
He took off his hat with an air of exaggerated deference, for
the Mexican peon has, when it pleases him, the manners of an
hidalgo.

" Buenas tardes, Ramona," he said. "Many thanks for com-
ing to meet me."

"You know well, Cruz Sanchez, that I did not come to meet
you," Ramona answered, drawing up her stately figure. " I
did not think we should see you again at Los Charcos."

" And you are not pleased to see me," he returned with
bitterness. "You are afraid that I have come to make trouble
with your gringo lover — for I knew he was that when he in-
terfered between us! You were always glad enough to see
me before he came."

"You lie!" said the girl tersely. "You know that I was
never glad to see you, that I told you over and over again
that I cared nothing for you. And as for whether Don Fe-
lipe is my lover or not, that is no affair of yours."

" I will make it my affair, for, say what you please, you
would have listened to me at last but for him."

" I would never have listened to you — never ! " she reiter-
ated passionately. "And" — with a brave show of contempt —
" I have no need to fear your making trouble with him. He
would soon teach you your place. He is un caballero, and
you are only an arriero."

" Caballero or no, he shall answer to me sooner or later for
his interference between us," said the arnero with flashing eyes.
" And you are a fool to believe that he will think of you a
day longer than his business keeps him in the Sierra."

"That is no affair of yours," she repeated, "but I have
faith in him — perfect faith."

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 459

"You have?" he sneered. "Then it is a pity that you
could not have seen him as I saw him yesterday. The Gerente
of the Santa Catalina is crossing the Sierra with his daughter,
the Senorita Americana, and a great train of men and mules.
I passed the conducta at the noon rest, and with them — sitting
apart with the senorita — who is beautiful as la Maria Santis-
sima herself — was Don Felipe. From an old friend of mine in
the train I learned that he had joined them the day before,
and that he is traveling out of the country with them. So,
doubting whether you knew this — for it would be like a gringo
if he went away without even bidding you farewell — I have come
out of my way to tell you."

"It is false!" Ramona said. "I do not believe it."

" False ! Dios de mi alma / Shall I call Tobalito and Pepe
to swear to it ? "

She put out her hand with a detaining gesture, for he
turned as if to summon the other arrieros. She was conscious
of a sudden stricture about her heart, a feeling as though it
were crushed in a strong and cruel grasp, but she struggled
gallantly to show her scorn of the malice which was torturing her.

" There is no need to call Tobalito and Pepe," she said.
" It may be true that you passed such a train on the road. Why
should not the Gerente of the Santa Catalina go over the
Sierra and the senorita, his daughter, accompany him ? I have
nothing to do with them. What is false is that Don Felipe
has gone with them. He has gone to get supplies for the mine."

" No doubt he told you so," Cruz answered mockingly.
" He is not the first man who has lied to a woman. But why
should he have gone for supplies just when the senorita is in
the Sierra, if not for the purpose of meeting her ? Bah ! thou
art a fool, Ramona ! I will wager my best mule that he will
never return to you — unless, indeed, the gold in the mine
brings him back ! "

The confidence of his assertion, the triumph of his tone,
were more than Ramona could bear. All the strength of her
passionate love and faith rose up to meet him.

"And I," she said, "am so sure that he has not gone to
meet her, and that he will return, that I am ready to wager
more than a mule — I am ready to wager myself upon it. I
am so sure of him, that 1 do not hesitate to declare that if he
goes away with this woman I will marry you — for what differ-
ence would it make then what became of me? This will show

46o IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

you how little I believe you, how certain I am that he will
come back to me ! And now I have not another word to say

to you."

She turned, gathering her rebozo more closely around her,
after the fashion of Mexican women, and passed so swiftly away
that he had no opportunity to detain her, had he desired to
do so. But in fact he felt no such desire. Her last words
had overwhelmed him. She had meant them as the supreme
expression of her faith in Trescott, but they contained another
meaning, another possibility, and another hope for the man
who heard them.

VII.

It was in a stream fed glen between the hills that the
Bering party made its halt the next night. These camps were
a continual source of delight to Eleanor. All camping scenes
are more or less picturesque, but, as she often remarked, there
was no element of the picturesque lacking here. The fire of
great pine logs, the tent which shielded her father and her-
self from the heavy frost or drenching dew of these high re-
gions, the delicately formed mules, the Mexicans in their
bright-colored zarapes and peaked hats, with the woodland
surroundings, the solemn hills and flowing water — all made up
a scene which she contemplated every evening with an ever-
renewed sense of passionate pleasure.

This evening, as usual, she was seated at some little dis-
tance from the camp, taking in all the charm of the picture.
The work of pitching the tent and making the fire was over.
The mules had been watered and were now feeding. The men
were bringing fuel to keep up the fire during the night. Ale-
jandro was setting the table for the evening meal, while Mr.
Bering, seated like Abraham at the door of his tent, gave now
and then peremptory orders to the mozos. It had been broad
daylight when they halted; but twilight is short in these lati-
tudes, and dusk was now gathering, bringing out the rich radi-
ance of the firelight, as the flames leaped upward from the resin-
ous mass of burning wood, throwing their light on the es-
carpment of the rocky hillside overhanging the camp, on the
surrounding masses of foliage, and on the moving figures of
men and animals. Overhead a silver moon, cut sharply in
half, was riding buoyantly through the violet sky, effacing the
stars, that gleamed, however, in full golden luster, lower down

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 461

above the hill-crests. The stream was chanting the sweetest
conceivable song as it hurried over its stones, and all the
fragrant, pungent odors which night draws forth in the forest,
and especially in the neighborhood of water, filled the air.

" Isn't it delightful ? " said Eleanor, with a soft sigh of
enjoyment. " How sorry I am that we are one day nearer
to the end ! I wish we could lose our way and wander in
the Sierra for a month."

Trescott, who was stretched out on the ground beside her,
looked up with a smile.

"That might be easily accomplished,1' he said. "But it is
best not to wander here too long, or you might never find your
way out. The Sierra has a fascination which is hard to break
when one has dwelt in it long."

" As I have told you, I can imagine that," she said. " The
world we know seems so far away, and so undesirable — "

"Very far away, and very undesirable," he echoed.

"And in these enchanted solitudes," she went on, "one un-
derstands the passion for nature and things wild and free, which
now and again makes men break away from all restraints of
civilization and, in some remote region like this, go back to
the primitive life. It is the feeling which at this moment makes
me sorry to see another camp-fire yonder."

Trescott started, and following the direction of her glance,
saw at a distance of several hundred yards up the narrow val-
ley what was indeed the unmistakable gleam of another fire.
For the first time since they had been journeying in the Sierra,
their place of rest was shared with other human beings. An
annoyance which had a deeper root than Miss Bering's fanciful
objection, made 4him frown a little. But he spoke carelessly
enough :

" It is the camp of some pack-train. A day's march in the
Sierra is so much the same for every one that the camping-
places are often shared."

"I don't like it," Eleanor said. " I wish we could move on."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that now."

" Of course it's too late. Papa would never hear of any-
thing so absurd. ' What possible harm can the camp do us ? '
he would say. I couldn't make him understand that it spoils
the charm of our solitude."

" In order to feel that the charm of solitude is spoiled, one
must first appreciate it. Mr. Bering, I think, hardly does that."

46a IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Jan.,

" I'm sure he doesn't. On the contrary, he is longing to
get out of the Sierra, and find himself in a Pullman car. His
only consolation for being here, is the enormity he is contem-
plating, of trying to bring a railroad into this heavenly region."

Trescott laughed. " You must have overheard some of our
conversations."

" I have lain in the tent at night and heard you telling him
as you smoked together before the fire, all about elevations
and possible routes, and ' immense deposits of timber.' Fancy
talking of these grand forests as ' deposits of timber ! ' The
very expression is a sacrilege, for it implies such possibilities
of destruction. I should like to have sovereign power here, so
that these great heights should always remain 'the inviolate
hills.1 "

"And I," said he in a tone which was only half- jesting,
" should like to have power to crown you queen of the Sierra.
I would, however, make a condition that you should make your
home here, like a true greenwood sovereign."

"At this moment I feel as if nothing could be more de-
sirable. And yet" — her tone suddenly changed, as her eyes
turned full on him — "even while we talk in this way, we know
that we are deceiving ourselves, that it is all a play, that we are
the children of civilization, and that we can never throw away
our heritage, however much we may desire to do so."

Trescott met the gaze which challenged him.

"You have learned or divined a great deal," he said, "and
nothing more truly than that. For you are right. We cannot
throw away our heritage, however much we may desire to do
so — and some of us desire it exceedingly. We may come close
to nature and primitive lives; but between us and them there
is a deep gulf set — a gulf of difference which nothing can bridge.
And when we fancy we have accomplished what we desire, that
we have forgotten our heritage, and that we are content, there
comes a mysterious rebound toward all that we have forsaken,
and we find ourselves drawn, by cords which we cannot resist,
toward the thing we have cast off and renounced."

"Ah, you acknowledge it!" she cried — and now her eyes
shone with something like triumph — " I knew that it must be
so. It is strenuous, it is exhausting, it is even terrible in some
of its aspects and revolting in others, that world out yonder:
but it is there that our destiny is cast, and we dare not for-
sake it. We must go down to the dusty plain, though our

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 463

hearts may protest and yearn for the repose of the heights we
leave."

It was with a glow of admiration in his own eyes that he
looked at the face so brilliantly alive with thought and feeling.

"Yes " ; he said, "you will go — and rightly. For it is where
you belong. To such as you life shows only its nobler side,
and you are made to put fresh courage into the hearts of those
who are ready to despair."

" Let me, then, put it into your heart," she returned quick-
ly. With an altogether charming and self-forgetful gesture, she
laid her hand on his arm. " Come with us," she said. " Come
down to the plain, to the dust, and to the conflict. It is where
you also belong. Come."

Surely a man might have been pardoned had he walked
through fire at the bidding of that voice, that glance ! And
yet it was no siren invitation, but the stronger for its loftiness,
for its calling upon all the higher forces of his nature.

"You tempt me," he said hoarsely — "no, you do not tempt
— you inspire me beyond my strength to resist. See now !
we have only two more days of this idyllic life. Let us — let
me — enjoy it, without thinking of what is to lie beyond. On
the night we make our last camp I will tell you everything:
what brought me to the Sierra, and what holds me here; and
then you shall decide whether I stay, or whether I go with you."

Two or three hours later the camp was quiet. The flap of
the tent was closed, the Mexicans, wrapped in their blankets,
were stretched around the fire asleep, and even the mules were
still. The music of the stream now had the silence all to it-
self, and was the only sound which broke it, except that now
and then from the thick woods on the farther bank there rose,
clear and iterative, the note of the whippoorwill.

To Trescott, as smoking he strolled slowly along the valley
in the bright moonlight, the last sound brought many painful
memories. It was so far unusual in Mexico, that in all his so-
journ in the country he had never heard it before; and when
Miss Bering — exclaiming: "Why, there are whipporwills ! "
— had asked the mozos the Mexican name for the bird, they
had been unable to give it. For himself the plaintive, pierc-
ing call had far-reaching associations. It carried him back in
memory to his childhood's home in the South, to the hedges
and copses in the old garden where he had played, whence
this same sound would issue in the fragrant summer twilight

464 iff ?HE SIERRA MADRE Jan.,

and far into the summer night. He remembered how the ne-
groes would whisper to him that: " Sump'en sho gwine to
happen! Bad luck boun* to come when de whippo'wills cry
roun' de house." That bad luck seldom followed the presage
in those childish days did not lessen the superstitious thrill
with which he had been trained to hear the sound. And it
was this early impression, no doubt, which gave such depth to
his last association with it. How the whippoorwills had cried
around his open window the night before he met Paul Raynor
in the encounter which ended his friend's life and ruined his
own! All the long unnerving agony of pain and remorse came
back to him as he listened to the ill-omened notes; he saw
again the black heads shaken, he heard again the solemn tones
of his nurses and attendants : " Bad luck gwine te come when
yo' hear de whippo'wills ! "

And yet he laughed to himself, not only at the old super-
stition, but also, somewhat grimly, at the thought that ill luck
had surely spent itself upon him. What possible misfortune
remained to come to him ? But, even as he asked the ques-
tion, he remembered the dark, faithful woman in the depths
of the Sierra, who had given him her heart; and then, as was
altogether natural, he remembered the man whose enmity to-
wards himself he knew well, and who was now so near at hand.

For he had never doubted that the camp at the other end
of the glade was that of Cruz ; and for this reason he was not
in the least surprised to see the arriero coming, as if by ap-
pointment, to meet him. In the moonlight the figures of the
two men were clearly revealed to each other as they ap-
proached from opposite directions, while the stream by their
side sang over its stones and the whippoorwills called with
plaintive insistence from the thickets on the hillside.

" I wish to speak for a moment with you, senior," said
Cruz, stopping short when they met.

4 What do you want?" Trescott asked, pausing also.

"I wish to know if you are leaving the Sierra, senor."

;<You are insolent to ask the question. What affair is it
of yours ? "

" You know well what affair it is of mine," the man an-
swered, dropping the surface deference of his tone. " When
you are gone, Ramona will be willing to marry me."

" That is a lie, and you know it."

"It is not a lie. I have been at Los Charcos since you

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 465

left there, and she has told me that if you go away she will
marry me. Seeing you, therefore, as it appears, on your way
out of the country, I ask you to tell me plainly if you are
leaving the Sierra, because the knowledge will spare her much
long waiting and suspense."

There was an instant's pause — a pause due to the fact that
Trescott was so angry that he could not immediately trust
himself to speak. Surely he had entangled his life in a fright-
ful manner, when this peon had, in a certain sense, a right to
approach him with questioning which touched the deepest
points at issue within himself 1 If he had followed his inclina-
tion, he would have answered in a manner more forcible than
speech. But to knock the man down would only have been
to insure the certainty of his rising, armed with his knife ;
and a personal encounter with an arriero was an impossible
thing, even if he had not been within sight of the Bering
camp. When he spoke, however, his tone was the equivalent
of the blow he felt bound to restrain.

"You are a liar," he said sternly. "I am certain that Ra-
mona has not made any such promise; and if she had, it
would give you no right to question me concerning my plans
and intentions. It is no business of yours whether I go or
whether I stay in the country, and if you venture to address
me again, I shall punish your insolence as it deserves."

"There may be two words to that, senor," replied the Mex-
ican, resuming the outward deference which only gave addition-
al point to the real insolence of his speech and bearing. " But
I have nothing more to say to you now, and with thanks al-
ways (gracias sismpre) for your kind consideration, I promise
that when I address you again you will be ready to answer me."

His tone made the last words an unmistakable menace;
and with them he turned away. Trescott stood still, watching
the tall figure as it strode along the valley toward the distant
camp-fire. There was no possibility of doubting the man's
sinister meaning ; and to feel that one has an absolute and un-
scrupulous enemy is not an agreeable sensation even to the
most courageous. He turned to retrace his own steps, and
as he went back toward his camp the call of the whippoor-
wills seemed to fill all the listening stillness of the night.

(TO BE CONCLUDED.)
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 30

THE "PIONEER" TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT IN IRELAND.

|HE report of the proceedings at the recent Con-
vention of the Catholic Total Abstinence Union
of America, held at New Haven, is calculated to
fill Catholic Temperance advocates in Englard
with a holy envy. For, not many months ago,
a correspondent wrote to The Catholic limes asking if there
was such a thing as a Catholic Temperance Association in Eng-
land. He had consulted the "Daily Mail" Ytar-Book of the
Churches, and found there what professed to be a practically
complete list of National and International Temperance Socie
ties; none of these, however, seemed to have any connection
with the Church. Himself a priest, he then sought for infor-
mation amongst his ecclesiastical brethren, but none cculd en-
lighten him on the point. So he came to the very natural con-
clusion that, if such a thing existed among Catholics in Eng-
land, it was not much in the eye of the world. No doubt the
occasion, shortly after, of the celebration of Cardinal Manning's
centenary, both at the Westminster Cathedral and in Hyde
Park, gave him the information he wanted, while it also justi-
fied his inference.

There is, it is clear, at least one Catholic Temperance As-
sociation in England — " The League of the Cross " — but, since
the death of its founder, it has been, not dead, indeed, nor even
sleeping, but still, let us say, in a somewhat drowsy state.
However, advantage was very properly taken of the centenary
of Cardinal Manning's birth to revive the enthusiasm which
characterized the movement during his lifetime. On Sunday,
July 12, there was a great gathering of original " Leaguers" in
Westminster Cathedral, some three thousand in number, who
were addressed by Canon Murnane, the late Cardinal's right-
hand man, and his worthy successor at the head of the or-
ganization. On the following Sunday there was a demonstra-
tion in Hyde Park, where the numbers of the Leaguers were
swelled by representatives of various organizations of working-
men, who have so much to gain by the spread of temperance.
We earnestly hope that " The League of the Cross " will be

1909.] THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND 467

roused to new life by these honors paid to its founder. It is
now thirty-five years old, and has a glorious record of good
work done. May that be but the seed of a still more vigorous
harvest in the near future, till in God's mercy what Cardinal
Manning did not hesitate to call " Our National Vice " has
ceased to characterize the English nation.

Cardinal Manning was prominent in all branches of social
reform, but, in spite of his example, it is to be feared that
English Catholics, as a body, have not yet taken the foremost
position in the movement for the improvement of the condition
of the workers which their faith and their ideals demand of
them. Believing that society can be saved only by a return
to the principles of Catholicity, we nevertheless at times allow
others to surpass us in zeal in the external expression of the
spirit of Christianity, as they understand it. Few in numbers,
we lose still more in effectiveness through political disunion,
for, under our party-system of government, though the evils to
be remedied are national, the remedies themselves necessarily
take a party color. Amongst the opponents of the present
Licensing Bill, for instance, how many are animated by zeal for
Toryism rather than zeal for Temperance ? Happily, the tran-
scendent importance of the Education question has been able
to unite the warring factions, and has shown incidentally how
powerful we are when united. Would that it were so in regard
to all matters affecting the welfare of society, as, for instance,
the great question of Temperance. Hitherto, alas ! there has
been no combination of effort to oppose " Our National Vice."
Though the principles at stake are clear enough, the methods
recommended are perhaps not so indisputable. In default, there-
fore, of concerted action, it is all the more important that the
individual Catholic should have clear and correct notions on
this vital problem, and should realize how greatly his personal
attitude may affect its solution. It may be encouraging to call
attention to a recent remarkable and very successful attempt
at its solution in Ireland, in order both to show America that
we are not totally devoid of initiative in these islands and to
strengthen "The League of the Cross" in England by the
spectacle of so energetic a movement on its borders.

If the compiler of the "Daily Mail" Year- Book of the
Churches had extended his survey to Ireland, we venture to
think that he would have found many additions to make to his

468 {THE " PIONEER " Mo YEMEN T IN IRELAND [Jan.,

list of Temperance Societies under Catholic management. We
do not mean to imply that the evil to be combatted is there
more prevalent, though it may be more disastrous than else-
where. We fear that no one of the three kingdoms can exalt
itself above its neighbors in this regard ; the abuse of strong
drink is scandalously common in all, and none can safely afford
to relax its efforts to control it. We must own, however, that
the poverty of the country makes intemperance especially harm-
ful in Ireland, just as the higher ideals of the people's religion
make it more disgraceful. Hence, strenuous efforts are being
put forth to restore the nation as a whole to self-control in
this matter, by those who have her welfare most at heart.

We do not intend to enumerate the various Catholic organi-
zations which are opposing the drink evil on Irish soil. Many
may be seen detailed in the Irish Catholic Directory, their num-
ber and influence being largely due to a Joint Pastoral issued
by the Irish Hierarchy in 1890. Foremost among the workers
in this cause are the Capuchin Fathers, the brethren of the
famous Father Mathew, whose marvelous success in his day re-
mains as a standing stimulus and support to all temperance
reformers. It is true that his movement collapsed after a time,
but the failure is directly traceable to accidental and preventa
ble causes, whilst the lessons of his experience are left for the
guidance of those who are laboring so successfully to revive and
rival his work. In addition to the " Father Mathew " Society,
there is another organization, partial in its aim, but thorough
in its methods, called " The Anti-Treating League," the object
of which, as is implied in its name, is to put down the per-
nicious social custom of celebrating every event, from a busi-
ness deal to a chance meeting, by drinking. This undertaking
strengthens many against a very powerful form of temptation.

Both these associations are well-known; but there is a third,
the knowledge of which, on account of its recent growth, is
still confined mainly to Ireland. It is about this that we pro-
pose to say a few words, because it is in several respects unique
in its methods, and because it has met with remarkable and
growing success. Its official title is "The Total Abstinence
League of the Sacred Heart of Jesus/' but it is generally known
by the name of the " Pioneer Association " ; not because it claims
any priority in time, which would be absurd, or superiority
over others, with which, indeed, it is in no sense in rivalry,

1909.] THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND 469

but because its members aim at being in the very first ranks
of Temperance Reform, their engagement being of the most
absolute character and based upon the highest motives. It is
most important that this should be understood clearly, other-
wise one of the chief features of the " Pioneer " movement will
be ignored, and it will be exposed to the reproach of causing
a division of forces and consequent loss of efficiency. This as-
sociation, then, has as its object the training of strenuous tem-
perance workers in every field and, incidentally, the supplying
of recruits of the first quality to other bodies. There is noth-
ing whatever to prevent "Pioneers" being members, for instance,
of " The League of the Cross " ; as a matter of fact, in Ireland,
the great Capuchin organization includes many members of the
younger body. As the number of " Pioneers/' both priests and
layfolk, in Great Britain, America, and the Colonies, is now
not inconsiderable, doubtless branches of the organization will
presently appear in those countries also.

The fact that the " Pioneers " are mainly recruited from the
ranks of those who do not need, and in all probability never
would need, a "pledge" to keep them from excess in drink-
ing, may be reckoned a second characteristic of their associa-
tion. It does not aim so much at the cure oi the drunkard,
as at the prevention of drunkenness. Its appeal is not pri-
marily to personal motives, to the loss to character, family,
health, or purse, resulting from the cultivation or continuance of
a bad habit, but to motives of unselfishness, to the love of
God and neighbor impelling to self-sacrifice. It is a practical
recognition of the Christian duty of habitual mortification, of
taking up the cross daily as a means of showing love of God
and obedience to His law. Thus the motive is the same as
that which prompts the practice of the Evangelical Counsels
and every other sort of voluntary sacrifice of liberty in God's
service. But the personal benefit to soul and body is, in a
sense, an accidental result ; the chief object of the " Pioneer " is
to help to educate public opinion, by the persuasive influence
of personal abstention, in regard to the folly, useiessness, and
danger of habitual recourse to intoxicants. " Here is a prac-
tice," he says in effect, " which has done me little or no harm,
but which has ruined and is ruining thousands of my race and
nation. With God's grace, I will have nothing to do with it.
It is the first thing, if not the least, that I can do."

470 fHE " PIONEER " Mo VEMENT IN IRELAND [Jan.,

In the third place, the pledge in this Association is abso-
lutely for life. We are not likely to see for many generations
to come such a diminution of excessive drinking as would make
the advocacy of Total Abstinence unnecessary, so the motive
will always endure. It is apparent that, under this aspect, the
promise implies a certain degree of courage, which gives it a
claim to be called an " Heroic Offering.*' There is something
so final, so exceedingly definite, about a life-pledge, that a
person has need of some strength of character, or some assured
help from outside of himself, to take it deliberately. On the
other hand, the prospect rouses a man's instincts of generosity,
and, provided the motives are well grasped and kept alive, there
is no fool- hardiness in such an undertaking.

We are thus brought to the fourth characteristic of the
" Pioneer Association/' which is designed precisely to prevent
any rash or inconsiderate action in making the " Heroic Offer-
ing"; viz., the preliminary probationship. Before candidates
are allowed to take the pledge for life, they have to prove
their strength and fitness by abstaining for two whole years
from all spirituous liquor. During that interval they will have
abundant opportunity of ascertaining whether their original
design was born of a passing enthusiasm or a deep-seated pur-
pose. As no one can become a "Pioneer" before the age of
sixteen, it follows that Probationers must be at least fourteen
years of age. This wise provision of a sort of temperance
noviceship has probably done more to consolidate the " Pioneer "
movement than any other feature of the organization. It is
something to have withstood temptation from various quarters
for twenty-four calendar months, and the Probationer can now
face the "Heroic Offering" with a more assured confidence in
the power of grace, as well as with the self-reliance that comes
from experience. It remains to be said that any deliberate
violation of the pledge, however slight, reduces, ipso facto, the
" Pioneer " to the ranks; he must serve two years more before
he again receives the privileges and assumes the insignia of
full membership. And this second trial is granted only at the
discretion of the Council of the branch to which he belonged.

A fifth distinctive note of this Association is the great stress
laid upon the display of the tokens of membership, Other
temperance societies, of course, have the like — the " Blue Rib-
bon " has become proverbial, and Father Mathew made great

1909.] THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND 47 1

use of the medals and crosses which he distributed. But in
the Pioneer Association all members are obliged not merely to
wear, but to display, their badge of membership, which is an
emblem of the Sacred Heart arranged as a brooch, pin, or
pendant. The badge of the Probationers has a red cross in
place of the representation of the Sacred Heart. The advan-
tages of this prescription are manifold. Once its meaning is
known, the token is a silent sermon on temperance to the passer-
by. Then, while reminding members of their obligations, it
gives them a sense of solidarity, which is very helpful in an
uphill fight. It is quite remarkable how much this badge is in
evidence in Ireland, especially in the streets of Dublin. One
cannot walk far without noticing the pretty little design on
watch-chain, or scarf-pin, or brooch, adorning both sexes and
all classes. If the sight of drink and its effects, and the too-
abundant means of drink, in the streets of that fair city, de-
presses one who has the good of his Faith and his country at
heart, the sight of these eloquent emblems comes to restore
and invigorate.

In other respects as well, the rules of this remarkable or-
ganization are the outcome of many years experience and ob-
servation on the part of men who have made temperance sub-
jects the study of their lives. The members are divided into
groups of thirty-three, corresponding to the number of years
of our Lord's life, each group with President, Secretary, and
Treasurer, who, with one or two others, form a Council. These
groups, again, are linked together in local " centers " and have
fixed periodical meetings to determine the admission of candi-
dates, and to discuss methods of promoting temperance, total
abstinence, and rational recreation. For, not the least com-
mendable characteristic of the " Pioneers " is their activity in
furthering means of amusement which shall not depend on the
bottle. The alcoholic public-house, they realize, will be most
effectively discouraged by the provision of public- houses where
people may meet for social converse and recreation, without
being compelled or persuaded to endanger health or morals by
imbibing intoxicants.

Another wise rule enjoins the laying aside of the badge,
whenever, and as long as, a member is under medical orders
to take alcohol. This is necessary to avoid scandalizing other
members and to prevent the individual from unduly prolonging

472 TfffE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND [Jan.,

the treatment. The present tendency of medical practice hap-
pily points to a time when alcohol will be very rarely used.
Clearly, no one is allowed to prescribe for himself in these
matters, nor to yield to the suggestions of unqualified friends.
Affiliated to the " Pioneers " is another temperance society, the
members of which take the pledge for a less period than life
and have a separate badge and card of membership. We may
mention, finally, that within the last year or so, at the instance
of many experienced temperance workers, measures have been
taken to admit a certain number of those who have been re-
claimed from excessive drinking. These are, of course, sub-
jected to a prolonged and severe test before they are accepted,
even as probationers.

Such, in brief outline, is the Total Abstinince Association
of the Sacred Heart, which took its rise at a meeting of four
persons in St. Francis Xavier's Presbytery, Dublin, on Decem-
ber 28, 1898. These four fervent "Pioneers" have surely no
reason to fear " to speak of '98," for, while still some months
short of its first decade, the organization they then started
numbers ninety thousand tried members, to say nothing of the
large fringe of candidates, and upwards of seventy active cen-
ters. At each successive annual meeting in Dublin, the move-
ment has received a new impetus, especially since about three
years ago, when the Association was enriched with various
Indulgences by the Holy Father. Everything that an en-
lightened prudence, well-read in the lessons of the past, can
do to maintain the body in its first fervor and to render its
progress independent of the zeal of one or more individuals,
has been or is being done.

One exceedingly hopeful feature about the movement is the
number of clergy and ecclesiastical students who belong to its
ranks. The great College of Maynooth is one of the chief
" centers/1 containing several hundred members. Similarly, in
Dublin, the Colleges of Clonliffe and All Hallows, and, through-
out the kingdom, many other schools and colleges have en-
tered into the movement with enthusiasm and have become
flourishing " centers." It may be said, on a moderate es-
timate, that one- third of the Irish clergy are already total ab-
stainers. Nothing, it is plain, could contribute more effectu-
ally to the reformation of a people, exposed by custom and
character and circumstance to the danger of excessive drink-

1909. J THE "PIONEER" MOVEMENT IN IRELAND 473

ing, than that their spiritual pastors should be teetotallers.
For total abstinence, for many of their flock, is often the only
prudent course, whilst in all cases, whether regarded frem a
religious, physical, social, or economic standpoint, it is emi-
nently desirable. But who can preach total abstinence effec-
tively save the total abstainer, one who can say to his people :
" Come ! " instead of " Go ! "

This spread of total absinence amongst the young is of the
brightest augury for Ireland's future. Upon the rising gener-
ation, both clergy and laity, the destiny of the country rests.
Here is the seed-plot for the harvest to come. It is much
easier to renounce, by anticipation as it were, habits not yet
acquired and tastes not yet developed, than to oppose the
practices of many years. If one realizes from youth that
alcohol is one of the most potent instruments for the moral
and physical destruction of man, he will be less inclined ever
to indulge in it.

We have described, more or less fully, what the " Pioneers "
are: let us cast now a glance at their raison d'etre, that we
may better appreciate the good work they are doing. The
task before them, as before all other temperance workers, is
indeed an uphill one. Excess in drinking on the present gi-
gantic scale is a comparatively modern portent, not because
human nature has notably deteriorated, but because the facili-
ties for obtaining intoxicating liquors have enormously in-
creased. Still, temperance advocates have to aim at changing
the views and practice of many generations. They have to
remove from the minds of many, who have little desire, per-
haps, to be undeceived, a widespread delusion as to the ad-
vantages of alcohol. They have to find other and less harm-
ful expression for ingrained social habits. They have to incul-
cate restraint in a matter wherein excess is exceptionally easy.
They have to change public opinion. Let those who are in-
clined to think the task hopeless reflect that public opinion is
already changing. A century ago public opinion did not at-
tach a social stigma to the sin of drunkenness; now, it is on
the side of righteousness. A century ago the duellist was re-
garded in Ireland as a hero; now he would be known as a
murderer. There are people alive still who remember, nay,
who have shared, the common opinion in the southern States
of North America about the lawfulness and desirability of the

474 THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND [Jan.,

•

slave trade. How many advocates are there now of that pe-
culiar institution? And so the time may come when the fre-
quent and unnecessary consumption of alcoholic poison, even
in small doses, will be recognized as unworthy of a reasonable
man, and when the moral and physical advantages of total ab-
stinence from alcohol will be generally seen to outweigh the
good derived from its use.

In medical circles the change of view regarding the benefit
of alcohol has become very marked. If one is to believe Sir
Victor Horsley,* the use of the drug even as a medicine is of
the most doubtful advantage ; its evil effects more than coun-
terbalance its good, which latter, moreover, may be secured by
means that are not harmful. His opinion, set forth in detail
and with all scientific sobriety, is amply borne out by the
testimony of other physicians of eminence and by the gradual
disuse of alcohol in medical practice, as evinced by the ex-
penditure-sheets of the great London hospitals. It is obvious
how the knowledge of these facts must help temperance work-
ers, for much of the misuse of alcohol results from ignorance
of its real character. On the medical profession and on all
educated people generally rests the responsibility of destroying
so widespread an error. The need is so urgent, the disease so
desperate, that every motive must be used to remedy it. The
drink bill of the United Kingdom is £165, 000,000 annually!
If we add to this almost total waste the gigantic losses, caused
in various more indirect ways by excessive drinking, e g.t the
cost of maintaining additional accommodation in prisons, re-
formatories, poorhouses, lunatic asylums, for those who are
driven to crime, poverty, and madness by drink — a very large
proportion of the whole total — we should reach, perhaps, as
much again.

We speak of material loss, because that is the more tang-
ible, but who shall estimate the vast amount of sin and moral
misery which that huge expenditure represents, or the injury
caused to the physical well-being of the nation, present afld fu-
ture ? The annual statistics of the British Registrar General, pub-
lished a few months ago, show once again what was already well
known, that the most dangerous, occupation, next to file- making,
in the kingdom is that of inn-keepers and inn-servants. The

• See Alcohol and the Human Body, by Sir Victor Horsley and Dr. Mary Sturge. Mac-
millan, 1907.

1909.] THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND 475

publican's chance of premature death is three times greater
than that of the gardener. The fact is recognized by all in-
surance companies, some of which absolutely refuse to insure
those in the drink-trade, whilst those who do, generally add
fifty per cent to the premium. The number of deaths due
directly to excess in drink has risen threefold in the last fifty
years. It is not easy to calculate the total sum, but the late
Dr. Norman Kerr put it at 60,000 annually ; the mortality to
which alcoholism is a contributory cause being of course much
greater.

But it is with Ireland that the "Pioneers" are particularly
concerned. It is the thought of the terrible ravages of drink
in that unhappy land that gives these men much of their in-
spiration and their force. Here we have a country which, for
one reason or another, has rarely, if ever, enjoyed material
prosperity, whose trade has been crushed, whose resources
have remained undeveloped, whose population, in spite of a
prolific birth-rate, has been halved by famine and emigration
during the last sixty years. If the nation is not to disappear
altogether, clearly its strength should be husbanded in every
way. Yet this country spends more than its whole annual
rent-roll in drink! This poverty-stricken land raises some
fourteen million pounds a year to spend on what is at best a
mere luxury; and what is, in effect, a cancer eating away the
substance of national life. Half of this immense sum goes in
excise duty and half in actual expenditure. If the whole were
thrown into Dublin Bay instead, the resulting national loss
would be less; for, as we have seen already, the mere waste
of money is not the worse side of the picture. We must add
the ruin of health and character, the degradation of family
life, the interruption of work, the injury to trade, the in-
creased civil burdens, which in all cases follow excessive drinking.

But by itself the gigantic and wholly spontaneous tribute
paid to the tyrant, Drink, both by the slaves to excess and
the slaves to moderation, would, if turned into productive
channels, remove nearly all the economic ills that oppress the
land. A tithe of it would build and endow a National Uni-
versity second to none in the world. Elementary education
could be much improved, industries developed, emigration
checked in its causes, by a twentieth of this huge sum. As
long as the waste goes on, the standard both of material and

476 THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND [Jan.,

intellectual development remains permanently injured. That
religious ideals have not also suffered is due to the robust
faith, which centuries of persecution have nurtured and strength-
ened. In the recognition of these facts by thousands of pa-
triotic Irish folk to-day, we see one explanation of the suc-
cess of the " Pioneer " movement. Here we have the true " Sein
Feiners." Ireland is poor and crippled in every direction by
its poverty, but, in view of the waste caused by unnecessary
drinking, how can we deny that this poverty is, in part, self-
created and self-imposed? Thirty- three years ago the Hierar-
chy of Ireland told the nation, in words which have lost none
of their truth to day —

" Drunkenness has wrecked more homes, once happy, than
ever fell beneath the crowbar in the worst days of eviction ;
it has filled more graves and made more widows and orphans
than did the famine ; it has broken more hearts, blighted more
hopes, and rent asunder family ties more ruthlessly than the
enforced exile to which their misery has condemned emigrants ! "

Under these circumstances, one is tempted to gauge the
sincerity of an Irishman's patriotism by his attitude towards
temperance. He may be an enthusiastic Gaelic Leaguer, may
wear his life out in Parliament, may face and conquer the dif-
ficulties of the Irish language, may foster in every way Irish
industries, may even go clothed " in the garb of old Gael,'1
but if he is indifferent to the spread of temperance, if he does
not encourage total abstinence, if he fails to give the example
of strict sobriety in his own person, then he is laboring in vain,
for he has not touched the essence of the problem of how to
regenerate his race. Until the ulcer of intemperance is cured,
all other attempts to cure the body corporate will result in
worse disaster. If advance in elementary self-control does not
precede advance in material prosperity, we shall only increase
the nation's drink bill. As we write, the publication of the
balance sheet of Messrs. Guinness and Co., the famous Dublin
brewers, announcing that they have made a profit of thirty-
four millions sterling in twenty-two years, and that their high-
est annual profit, £2,306,700, was made this very year, comes
as a striking commentary on the situation. The one thriving
trade in Ireland is that which contributes, more largely than
any other cause, to her ruin and degradation ! We all know
the saying " Ireland sober is Ireland free,'1 but it has even a

1 909. ] THE • ' PIONEER " Mo VEMENT IN IRELA ND 47 7

deeper and truer meaning than the politician reads into it. It
is for this and all its attendant blessings that the " Pioneer As-
sociation" is working.

Of all natural motives, this motive of patriotism is perhaps
the strongest. A man often does for his country what he will
not do for his family, or even for himself. But the "Pioneers,"
whilst neglecting no motives for self-control, rest as we have
seen on the most inspiring and most permanent of all, viz.,
the motive of religion. For no mere knowledge of evil conse-
quences, more or less remote, has ever been effective in keep,
ing mankind as a mass from harmful self-indulgence, else
would the revelation of hell-fire have prevented the believer
from sinning. And so, though the spread of knowledge about
the harmful nature of alcohol, especially amongst the young,
who have still open minds on the subject is to be welcomed,
that alone will never make man sober. Medical science is now
only formulating what people might have learnt ages ago from
the teaching of experience, viz., that alcohol, so far from being
a stimulant and a source of strength, is a mere narcotic, harm-
ful to the bodily functions even in small quantities. Fear of
social consequences, a prudent self-regard, again, will often
prevent open drunkenness, but not the hardly less pernicious
custom of constant "nipping." Once more, considerations of
health, family, and pocket appeal to the educated, the thrifty,
and the refined. But the religious motive is at once the most
universal and the most powerful. It is embodied in its purest
form in the words of the " Heroic Offering," made by the
" Pioneers " :

" For Thy greater glory and consolation, O Sacred Heart
of Jesu ! to give good example, to practise self-denial, to make
reparation for sins of intemperance, and for the conversion of
excessive drinkers, I will abstain for life from all spirituous
drinks. Amen."

He would be a poor Catholic, not to say a short-sighted
social reformer, who should find anything to cavil at in the
fact or the spirit of such an offering. Yet we have known a
man so blind to the temporal and spiritual benefits of total
abstinence as to declare publicly : " Let those who wish to
put this millstone around their necks, come forward ! " And
we have known another to try, happily in vain, to persuade
a club to introduce the sale of beer into its gatherings !

478 THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND [Jan.,

We will conclude this imperfect sketch of an organization,
whose progress all lovers of Ireland should view with sympa-
thetic interest, with some practical counsel tendered to the
"Pioneers" by one of their original founders, but equally applic-
able to all temperance workers:

" Let Total Abstainers not be aggressive in asserting their
principles or their practice. Aggressiveness does no good and
much harm. Let them not exaggerate Total Abstinence as a
passport into heaven, without anything else to recommend or
entitle them to eternal reward. Let them not pride themselves
on their slender self-denial, as being better than their neigh-
bors who do not offend against temperance. Let them preach
more by practice and example than by words. Let them be
bright and cheerful in their relations with others at home and
abroad. From the savings resulting from their total abstinence
let them make competent provision for the future, and let them
never forget to help the poor."*

We venture to think that the advice contained here is of
incalculable value. Much injury has resulted to the cause of
temperance through teetotalers affecting superior virtue and
"giving themselves airs." Also from their practically denying
to their neighbor his right to use his liberty. Total abstinence
is a counsel, not a precept; under existing circumstances, it is
emphatically the " better way," but men may reasonably use
their freedom not to walk therein. Thus the teetotaller who
should pride himself on not being as other men — "even as this
Publican " — would only be exchanging one vice for a worse, and
lamentably falling short of the spirit of his profession. On the
other hand, some of the disrepute which seems to attach to
the profession of total abstinence arises from the false idea
that it is an extreme^ and therefore to that extent irrational
and unnatural. " Moderate drinking " is regarded as the vir-
tue standing between the two extremes of drunkenness and
teetotalism, and as therefore commendable, whereas the vice
that stands opposed to drunkenness or abuse by excess is abuse
by defect, i. e.t such abstention from alcohol as would produce
evil effects, either to body or soul. Needless to say no such
vice exists.

In England this year, during the present session of Parlia-

* See the useful little penny Temperance Catechism, written by Father James Cullen, S.J.,
which also contains full information about the " Pioneer Association."

1909.] THE " PIONEER " MOVEMENT IN IRELAND 479

ment, the Liberal Government are endeavoring to remedy the
evil of drunkenness by the passage of a bill to reduce the num-
ber of public houses; accordingly much is heard on the tem-
perance question at present. Apart from the merits or de-
merits of this attempt, with which we have here no concern,
we may be permitted two remarks in conclusion. The first is
that every scheme of temperance reform must tend, until prices
are readjusted, to injure the interests of the drink trade, for
the simple reason that it aims at diminishing the total con-
sumption of drink. Temperance would be very little promoted
if the amount consumed was not reduced, if, i. e.t both tee-
totallers and drunkards joined the ranks of " moderate drink-
ers " What is a "moderate drinker"? It is a very elastic
term, made to cover all classes between those who drink only
at mealtime, and then not much, and those who, short of ac-
tual intoxication, keep their blood in a constant ferment by con-
stant indulgence. The latter class may easily injure health,
purse, and soul more completely than the actual, if occasional,
drunkard. But once grant that alcohol is not a food but a
drug, once realize the immense injury, both to the individual
and to the State, caused by its unnecessary consumption, and
it becomes clear that drinkers must be abstemious indeed to
have a just claim to the epithet.

Our second remark is that it is worse than foolish to dis-
courage Temperance Reform by repeating, as some do, the
parrot-cry, started originally, without doubt, by some public-
house parrot : " Man cannot be made sober by Act of Parlia-
ment." Such a saying flies in the face of all preventive legis-
lation, and would justify the removal of the law against dis-
orderly houses, or the already- existing restrictions on the sale
of spirituous liquor. The poet's exclamation : " How oft the
sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!" shows
a truer psychology.

FOUR CELEBRITIES-BROTHERS BY MARRIAGE.

BY WILFRID WILBERFORCE.
III.— GEORGE DUDLEY RYDER.

JHE subject of this sketch belonged to a family so
full of interest, and so intimately associated with
the history of England at an eventful period, that
a good deal of self-denial on the part of the
writer is needed to restrain his narrative within
reasonable limits. The family history of the Ryders would by
itself supply ample material for a long and interesting article.
George Dudley Ryder, the son of the well-known Protest-
ant Bishop of Gloucester and afterwards of Lichfield, was born
on April n, 1810,

Bishop Ryder was an Evangelical ot the best type. There
had been at that time a special revival of piety in the Protest-
ant Church in England, headed by Simeon and others at Cam-
bridge. Their distinguishing characteristic was a deep personal
love and devotion to our Lord, coupled with strong efforts to
imitate the examples of holiness which the Gospels reveal to us,
and to give themselves to works of charity for the sake of
Christ. There was no attempt to form any theological system.
It was simply making the best of the meager, desolate, nega-
tive Protestantism into which they had been born. Still that
it was in very truth making the best of it, no one can deny,
and the result was that those families which thus acted up to
the light that they had, produced the most beautiful examples
of domestic virtue, and in many instances of heroic self- sacri-
fice as well, and it is worthy of note that a great many of the
converts in the middle of the last century had gained their
earliest notions of religion from the sincere, if undogmatic, creed
of Evangelicalism.

It was from a father imbued with these religious sentiments,
and from a mother equally devout,* that George Ryder received
his early training. His health was not strong enough to per-
mit of his being sent like his brothers to a public school, but

* His mother was a sister of Charies March Phillipps, father of Ambrose Lisle Phillipps,
afterwards De Lisle.

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 481

at the usual age he went to Oxford and entered at Oriel Col-
lege, where Newman and Hurrell Froude were tutors.

George Ryder had been brought up in the midst of sur-
roundings which were holy and pure, and was thus in every
way fit to be influenced by the teaching of Newman and Froude.
He naturally became absorbed into the High Church party, and
this without any opposition on his father's part. While at Ox-
ford he became intimate with a number of men who afterwards
became famous, among them Gladstone, Manning, Sydney Her-
bert, and the three Wilberforces. What was thought of Glad-
stone by his fellow- undergraduates is shown by a little incident
which is worth recording. Gladstone entered Parliament when
he was three and twenty. One day George Ryder, whose father
and uncle were in the House of Lords, was walking in one of
the corridors with Gladstone. They happened to meet Lord
Harrowby, and Ryder stopped to talk to him while Gladstone
passed on. "That is Gladstone,11 said Ryder, pointing to the
disappearing figure. " We all say that he will one day be Prime
Minister." This seems to have been Manning's opinion also,
and Gladstone, on hearing it from his lips, replied : "If I am
Prime Minister, I will appoint you to Canterbury/*

Bishop Ryder numbered among his intimate friends the
leaders of the Evangelical School, and this naturally brought
him into frequent contact with William Wilberforce, the emi-
nent philanthropist. Hence it came about that George Ryder,
who had made the acquaintance of Henry Wilberforce at Oriel,
paid more than one visit to old Mr. and Mrs. Wilberforce. It
was in their house that he met Mrs. Samuel Wilberforce, the
eldest of the four Sargent sisters, and later on he met the
youngest sister, Sophia, his future wife. It was not long before
a strong attachment sprang up between them, and old Mr. and
Mrs. Wilberforce soon saw how matters stood and sincerely re-
joiced at it. However, the consent of Sophia's parents had still
to be asked, and this was delayed by the illness and death of
her father, the Rev. John Sargent. When the sad news reached
George Ryder, his loving sympathy with the bereaved family
drew him irresistibly to the spot. He walked over the Sussex
Downs and entered the beautiful wood or " hanger/' overlook-
ing-the house and grounds. The little parish church, with the
small graveyard, where all the members of the family have been
buried, is actually in the garden attached to the Squire's house.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 31

482 FOUR CELEBRITIES I [Jan.,

George Ryder was thus an unknown spectator of the funeral.
His delicacy of feeling forbade his intruding upon so great a
sorrow, while he felt that he was showing the highest act of
respect in his power to one whom he had hoped so soon to
look upon as his father-in-law. It was in the following year,
1834, that this hope was fulfilled, and Sophia Sargent became
his wife.

Ryder, while still a youth at Oxford, had felt himself called
by God to the life of a clergyman. In his eyes it was em-
phatically, not a career but a vocation, and it greatly shocked
him to hear young men speak of adopting the clerical life sim-
ply as the choice of a profession, just as they might speak of
entering the army or navy. His father, being a bishop, natu-
rally had several livings in his gift, and he gave his son the
choice among three. George and his young wife visited each
in turn, and, as money at that time was not an object with
him, he chose, not the one with the largest income, but the
most beautiful — namely Hanbury, in Staffordshire. This he ex-
changed some three years later for Easton, near Winchester.
The ciurch here is very ancient, and the baptismal font is that
which was used in Catholic times. The church still retains its
old dedication and is known as " St. Mary's." At Easton he
remained until he became a Catholic, and here were born four
out of his seven children.

None who had known Ryder in his younger days were sur-
prised at the whole-hearted devotion and energy with which he
carried on his duties as a parish clergyman. His great object
was to instill real piety into his parishioners. He began to
have daily service in the church; he repaired, and otherwise
decorated, the building, and as his own mind advanced, uncon-
sciously to himself, towards the Catholic Church, he gradually
introduced Catholic practices, and he came at last to have daily
prayers for the union of the Roman and Anglican Churches.
From the Protestant Prayer Book he gathered not merely the
lawfulness of confession, but its necessity, and one day he
made an expedition to the parish adjoining Easton, where Ktble
was vicar, and begged him to hear his confession. Keble had
not advanced so far in those early days, and it was with great
reluctance that he yielded to Ryder's request. The Vigils and
Fasts of the Church too were most rigidly kept by the fervent
Anglicans. Many of them ate nothing till sunset.

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 483

A very remarkable instance of Ryder's intense earnestness
in the service of God may be mentioned here.

He had had a serious illness, and though his health grad-
ually returned, he found that the languor and weakness of his
malady had made early rising extremely difficult to him. For
some days he yielded, and this made him fear that the habit
of laziness was growing upon him. He thought over it very
seriously. It occurred to him that such a habit, had he been
a workingman, would have meant loss of money and perhaps
the means of livelihood. He resolved to trample upon it once
and for all. He determined that every time he remained in
bed after seven o'clock he would throw half-a-guinea into a
deep stream. It had at first occurred to him to give that sum
to the poor, but such a resolve would have been inefficient, be-
cause he would be sure to comfort himself while lying in bed
with the thought that some one would profit by his sloth.
One morning he again remained in bed beyond seven o'clock.
That day half a- guinea was thrown into the stream, and so
heartily was he ashamed of himself for having indulged in this
expensive luxury that he never had reason to repeat it. In a
very short time early rising became a second nature with him.
One of his daughters, now a nun, writes: "He told me this
to encourage me when I was at one time inclined not to get up
for early Mass, though I was not ill, only lazy, with the ever
ready excuse of not strong. It helped me then, and ever since."

It may be well here to mention an incident which, though
of a delicate nature, is so extremely characteristic of George
Ryder that I am loath to omit it. When he was well-advanced
in years he was speaking to one of his sons, a priest, about a
young man in whom he was much interested. He feared that
this young man was being led astray by bad companions and
he asked his son to try to save him. "You may tell him if
you like," added George Ryder with much earnestness, " that
when I was a young man, I was once severely tempted during
the night against the Holy Virtue, but by God's grace I rose
and flung myself on my knees on the floor, and begged God
rather to cast me headlong into hell than allow me to give way
to the temptation, and so I overcame it." One is reminded of
what is related in the lives of St. Benedict and other saints
when similarly tempted, and the violent remedies they used to
gain the victory.

484 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

A curious incident occurred during George Ryder's incum-
bency of Easton. It happened that a poor woman came to the
village. She was nominally a Catholic, but her character was
bad and few would have anything to do with her. Mrs. Ryder,
hearing that she was in great poverty, used to send her food.
The poor thing, in hopes of getting more substantial assistance,
affected to be converted to Protestantism, and sent word to that
effect to the rectory. Mr. Ryder realized at once that she was
merely trying to get further help, and he called at her cottage
and told her his opinion. She however persisted, and to test her
resolution, the rector said: "If you are sincere you must pre-
pare for confession, for I shall not receive you without it."
Her disgust and astonishment were great. " Sure, your honor,"
she said, " I have nothing to confess unless it be that I took
a few broken victuals when I was a lass in service." But the
rector stuck to his point and told her she had better examine
her conscience. A few days later she was seized with illness
and implored to see a real priest. The rector gladly sent for
one and the poor woman made a good death.

George Ryder had been rector of Easton for about nine
years when his wife's health made it advisable that she should
go abroad for a couple of years. He invited his youngest sis-
ter, Sophy, to accompany them, and he left England in the
autumn of 1845. Of the children, the three eldest went with
their parents, while the two youngest, boys of three years and
one year respectively, were left under the care of their aunt,
Mrs. Henry Wilberforce, at East Farleigh. At this time, no
doubt had ever crossed George Ryder's mind as to the Angli-
can Church being a part of the Church of God, and to turn
the period of his absence to good account, he purposed to write
a book to prove what to him was an undoubted truth. He
had already been for some time in the habit of jotting down
notes of everything that he came across in books or in prac-
tice that could strengthen or prove this contention. His leisure
time abroad would, he thought, enable him to expand these
notes into a book.

The travelers stayed for a few days in Paris. Here they
were introduced to a French .priest, who took a good deal of
notice of the children and then fell into conversation with the
parents. He was very kind and genial, and the Ryders hoped
that they would see more of him. This, however, was their first

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 485

and last meeting. At parting from him George Ryder, ac-
cording to his custom when saying good-bye to a priest or re-
ligious, said: " Pray for me and mine." The priest held Ryder's
hand tightly in his, and said with great earnestness: "Yes, I
will pray for you; and to-morrow morning, at seven o'clock, I
will offer Mass for you."

It had been a busy day, and the whole party were very
tired. Orders were given that they were to be called at eight
o'clock instead of at seven, which was the usual time. George
Ryder, however, woke of himself, and to his unspeakable sur-
prise, found that his mind was full of arguments on the Catho-
lic side. So strong and so clear were they that for the first
time in his life a doubt as to the truth of the Protestant church
came to him. He felt that, as an honest man, he was bound
to make a note of these, just as he had long been accustomed
to write down the arguments on the Protestant side. He, there-
fore, reached out for his notebook and pencil which, with his
watch, he had placed on a little table near his bed. It was
7:15, and the thought came to him: "It is the exact time that
that holy priest promised to offer Mass for me. This may be
the effect of his prayers." He met this — his first doubt — by
earnest prayers that God would guide him and enable him to
do His Holy Will in all things.

In the hotel where the Ryders were then staying was Arch-
deacon Manning and his great friend Mr. Dodsworth.* Both
were at this time very High Churchmen, eager to assist at
every grand service they could, and to pick up everything they
met with in the way of Catholic devotion. f

When George Ryder and his party were starting in the old-
fashioned carriage which was to take them by short stages to
Nice, Archdeacon Manning came to wish them good-bye. As
he did so he slipped a small book into Sophy Ryder's hand.
She put it into her pocket until she could examine it at leis-
ure. She found later that it was a little book on devotion to
our Blessed Lady, with prayers and hymns in her honor. She
had been longing to pray to our Lady, but had not dared to

* His son Cyril became a Redemptorist, and one of his daughters entered the Good Shep-
herd Order, and died as Prioress of Colombo, Ceylon.

t In 1865, just after Manning's consecration as Archbishop of Westminster, be and
George Ryder once more met in Paris. It was just twenty years since they had bid each other
farewell when the family were on their way to Rome. They reminded each other of this. By
God's goodness Manning was a Catholic priest and archbishop, Ryder a Catholic, his
eldest son ordained, two other sons preparing to be priests, a daughter on the eve of becom-
ing a nun, and his sister a religious of the Good Shepherd.

486 $ FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

do so for fear it might be wrong. Now that Archdeacon Man-
ning had given her this book, she felt that she need hesitate
no longer. He must surely have meant her to use it, and use
it she did from that day, invoking our Blessed Lady more and
more fervently.

At Lyons Mrs. Ryder and her sister-in-law each bought a
rosary, the first they ever possessed, and the little book told
them how to use it. It was October when the travelers reached
Naples. They found many friends already there. While they
were still enjoying the sights of that lovely city they were
shocked and grieved to learn that John Henry Newman had
been received into the Catholic Church, or, as they then ex-
pressed it, had " gone over to Rome."

Christmas found them still at Naples and George Ryder and
his sister attended Midnight Mass in the Cathedral. The sanc-
tity and beauty of it made a very deep impression on them.
Oa leaving the church Ryder said to his sister: " Now this is
something really worthy to be called an act of adoration."
This Mass was talked of for a long time afterwards and the
brother and sister seemed to realize how it was that in old
days Catholics in England had valued Mass, and how they had
allowed no difficulties, however great, to prevent their hearing it.

In February, 1846, the party reached Rome. Here they
met their old friends, Charles Monsell and his wife. Charles
was the younger brother of William Monsell, a distinguished
convert who adopted a political career and eventually became
Lord Emly. It would seem that many hopes were entertained
in Rome that Charles Monsell and his wife would become
Catholics, and some thought them more likely to do so than
the Ryders, especially as their reception would not have en-
tailed the pecuniary sacrifices which Geoige Ryder had to
make. Unhappily the Monsells remained Protestants to the
end. Charles died a few years later crying out for a priest,
but in vain. His widow became the foundress of the Protest-
ant Convent at Clewer, near Windsor, under the direction of
Mr. Carter. She kept up an affectionate correspondence with
Sophy Ryder when the latter had become a Good Shepherd
nun. She was most anxious to* obtain from her all possible in-
formation about the religious life, how to manage penitents,
and the like. " We are all one/1 she would say, "you are
Roman Catholics, we are English Catholics, but it is just the
same." Sophy Ryder told her, kindly but with firmness, that

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 487

the whole secret of managing the penitents lay in the power
of the Sacraments, and that these could be found only in the
one true Church, the Church of Rome.

One great help to George Ryder in the process of his con-
version was the testimony of the Catacombs. Here he saw
clearly, unearthed before his eyes, the proofs of what Chris-
tians in the primitive times believed and practised ; and the
more he saw the more clearly he realized that these beliefs and
these practices agreed with the Church of Rome, not with the
Church of England. From the day of their arrival in the
Eternal City the brother and sister found their doubts as to
the truth of Anglicanism growing stronger and stronger. In
a lesser degree this was the case with Mrs. Ryder also, but her
health often prevented her joining in the expeditions and visits
made by her husband and his sister. They frequently spoke
of the wonderful sights they had seen ; of the Early Church,
of the martyrs; of the old frescoes in the Catacombs, and the
light these frescoes shed upon devotion to our Lady and the
saints, showing that it had been practised from the very begin-
ning instead of being an innovation of the last few centuries.

Often as they spoke of these things, neither of them ever
ventured at this time to refer to the possibility of their becom-
ing Catholics. Only in prayer to God could a word be breathed
about a step involving such terrible consequences.

Sophy Ryder was in the habit of hearing an early Mass at
San Andrea, the church of the Jesuit novitiate. It was close
to where the family were lodging, and it had the further at-
tractions of cleanliness and quiet. One morning a lady came
up to her and very kindly asked if she would like to hear Mass
in the room in which St. Stanislaus died. With mingled fear
and pleasure she agreed and followed the lady to the Oratory.
The beautiful altar was prepared and Mass was just going to
begin. Everything in the chapel was devotional and impres-
sive ; there was an atmosphere of sanctity about it which awed
her, and as she gazed with reverence at the life-sized figure of
the young saint on his marble bed, she felt that a heretic and
a sinner such as she had no right to be in so holy a place.
But she was destined very soon to feel even greater confusion.
The lady who had led her to the chapel came up and reminded
her by pointing to the altar that it was time to go up to re-
ceive Holy Communion. Of course Miss Ryder could not do
this, and the mistake made her feel more of an intruder than

488 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

ever. She slipped out of the chapel as quickly as she could
and went home.

It was some time in Lent that the Ryders made the ac-
quaintance of one of the nuns in the Sacred Heart Convent of
La Trinita de Monte. The acquaintance soon ripened into in-
timacy. A retreat for ladies was to be given in the convent

about this time by a Jesuit Father, a brother of Madame E ,

their nun friend, and it occurred to Miss Ryder to ask per-
mission to join it. Leave was given, and Miss Ryder and an-
other High Church lady, a friend of hers, went into retreat,
resolving to attend all the exercises. An experience such as
this could have but one effect upon a soul already so strongly
attracted towards the Church. Sophy Ryder had indeed, be-
fore beginning the retreat, promised her brother that she would
neither make her confession or take any other definite step
without first telling him. But it must have been quite clear
to the Jesuit who gave the retreat and to the nuns, that the
conversion of this lady was only a matter of time. As she sat
in the pleasant room assigned to her, musing over the words
of the last meditation and revolving in her mind the arguments
of the controversy between England and Rome, the physical
beauty of Rome was before her eyes. From her window she
could see the illustrious city spread cut in all its majesty be-
fore her, while in the distance, against the deep blue of the
Italian sky, the dome of St. Peter's was outlined. Madame

B 's frequent visits to her room helped to fix in her mind

the truth and beauty of the one true Church which this ma-
terial view symbolized. At the close of the retreat the truths
of religion had taken a new hold upon her mind. True to her
promise she had taken no step, but to remain for any length
of time in her present state of mind was impossible. She hap-
pened to know an English-speaking Jesuit, and to him she
went for advice. He received her with great kindness, assured
her that she was on the right path, and begged her to perse-
vere in prayer, assuring her, if she did so, that God would guide
her. He ended by promising her a daily memento in his Mass.

On the Feast of the Annunciation the thirty ladies who
had taken part in the retreat. were invited to the altar rails
after Mass to kiss the relic of the True Cross. Miss Ryder
joined them only after an assurance by one of the nuns that
she might lawfully do so.

The Ryders, during this critical time of their history, were

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 489

greatly helped by the prayers of a saintly nun who was then
living in the Sacred Heart Convent — Mere Macrina. She be-
longed to the order of St. Basil and had been Superior of a
convent in Poland which had been cruelly persecuted by the
Russians. She herself had undergone imprisonment and bar-
barous treatment, and her escape from her persecutors was
nothing short of miraculous.* This holy nun took a lively in-
terest in the conversion of the Ryders, who felt afterwards that
they had owed a great deal to her prayers. The evident lean-
ing of the family towards the Church had caused much alarm
among their Protestant friends in Rome, who tried hard to
restrain them from taking what they called "the fatal step";
and even after their return to England, immediately after
Easter, they sent books and papers to the Ryders to " coun-
terbalance the influence of Rome."

This seems a fitting place to mention a curious experience
which befell the husband, wife, and sister during their sojourn
in Naples. They were being shown over an asylum near that
city, when one of the unfortunate inmates, a woman, addressed
Mrs. Ryder. She pointed upwards, and said: " II coelo"; then
looking at Sophy Ryder, she pronounced the words: "La
Madalena"; and to George Ryder she said: f< Molto denaro."
Within a very short time Mrs. Ryder died the death of a
saint and Miss Ryder became a nun of the Good Shepherd.
Mr. Ryder interpreted the soothsayer's words to himself to
mean that he was to sacrifice much money ; but in later years
he came into such large sums, owing to various legacies from
relations, that the prophecy, if such it was, may be said to
have been fulfilled in this way. However this may be, the
words addressed to the two ladies were perfectly appropriate
to what afterwards occurred.

George Ryder's devotion to our Lady made it not sur-
prising that on the very first day of the month dedicated to
her honor he should receive a very signal and striking grace.
It was the first Friday in May. The family were still in Rome.
In the night George Ryder became very ill and it was feared
that he had caught the Roman fever. As he lay sleepless
through the watches of the night, he thought seriously of his
position. "What should I do," he asked himself, "if I knew
that I was about to die?" His conscience made answer clear
and distinct: "I should send for a priest and ask him to re-

* F«r an account of her sufferings the reader is referred to The Nuns «f Minsk.

490 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

.£

ceive me into the Church of Rome." He felt quite convinced
now that nothing was keeping him from taking this momentous
step except the fear of the temporal consequences to his dear
ones which such an act would involve, and then he fell to
prayer — earnest and repeated — that he might have the neces-
sary strength and courage. When morning came his mind was
made up. He met his sister as she returned from Mass at
San Andrea. "Well," he said abruptly, "are you ready to
enter the Church of Rome, the Holy Catholic Church ? " She
was overjoyed at her brothers words, for she had been won-
dering how she could break to him the news that she longed
to be a Catholic. "Yes, to-day if you like," she replied eagerly.
He then told her what had happened during the night, adding
that, with God's help, he meant to take the great step in spite
of all consequences, as he felt it would be wrong to put it off
any longer. George Ryder then explained his position to his
wife. He told her that he was convinced that the Church of
Rome was the one true Church founded by Christ and that
his individual salvation depended upon his submitting to her.
He asked his wife whether she was prepared to follow his
example. Mrs. Ryder replied that her reason was not fully
convinced, and that if she were then received she would be
acting more from love of her husband and out of deference to
his judgment than from her own conviction. On her own re-
sponsibility, she said, she could not become a Catholic, and if
she did so it would be because she trusted to his guidance.
Then again the thought of her children was a grievous trouble
to her. How, if she were to become a Catholic, could she un-
say what she had always taught them ?

As if to relieve her of this great difficulty a curious and
consoling incident took place on the evening of the very
next day — May 2. Mrs. Ryder had gone as usual to visit the
two boys after they had gone to bed. She found the elder
crying bitterly. She urged him to tell her his trouble. Lay-
ing his head upon her shoulder, he sobbed : " Oh, mamma, I am
so miserable, so very miserable. I wish we had confession in
our church as the Catholics have. I could be happy then."
Surely this was our Lord's kind way of removing one of her
difficulties. She told her son that his father had decided to
become a Catholic and that he therefore would soon be able
to go to confession. She kissed him and bade him go to
sleep in peace, which he did. The next morning he and his

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 491

younger brother talked the matter over and expressed the
greatest delight at being able now to pray to our Lady and
the saints. It was a peculiar consolation to their mother to
find that they took so readily to those very doctrines which
had been a difficulty to her. At this time, however, she did
not feel that it was God's will that she should become a
Catholic. On that memorable morning, as soon as breakfast
was over, George Ryder and his sister went to the Scotch
College to consult Dr. Grant. He listened to what his visitors
had to say about themselves, and particularly about the state
of doubt in which Mrs. Ryder still was. He promised to visit
her. On his doing so he decided that, though her knowledge
was wide enough, God had not yet given her the light of
faith, and that she did well therefore in not being received.
He urged her to persevere in prayer. The brother and sister
then went to the Abbate Hamilton, a great friend who had
been most anxious for their conversion. They found Mr. Charles
Weld with him, and they two at once offered to do all in their
power to assist the would-be converts. They advised them to
choose some priest to whom they could make their confessions,
and they eventually chose Father Grassi, S.J., of the Gesu.
They therefore called upon him and he arranged to meet them in
the chapel of the Scotch College, as that was near their home.
At this great crisis in their lives, when they were on the
brink of an unknown precipice of trial and temporal loss, the
thought of the many prayers offered for them by numerous
priests and religious was a great comfort to them. They were
supported too by the knowledge that they were in Rome, the
city of martyrs and saints, who had given up all for God, the
center of the Christian world where rest the bodies of the
glorious Apostles. George Ryder indeed feared not for him-
self, but it was nothing short of anguish for him to think what
might be in store for his delicate wife and their young chil-
dren. It was not only poverty which faced him. This, indeed,
was a necessary consequence of resigning his preferment in the
Anglican Church. His marriage settlement was comparatively
slender and he had naturally depended upon the benefice which
had been given to him, and upon others which his family in-
fluence would bring in the future. Hard indeed to bear was
the prospect of poverty when he thought of his wife and chil-
dren. But it was not the hardest part of his trial. What gave
him still greater anguish was to remember the intense grief

492 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

•

and cruel misunderstandings which his own and his sister's re-
ception would cause to his own mother, to his brothers and
sisters, and also to his wife's mother, old Mrs. Sargent (to
whom he himself was intensely devoted), and to the rest of his
wife's family. He had come to be looked up to, since the
death of his father, as though he had been the eldest born.
Had he renounced Christianity and dragged all his family and
his younger sister into rank infidelity or paganism, the dis-
grace, the shame, and the grief of all his friends could scarcely
have been greater.

But there was a further difficulty which his conversion
brought to him. A short time before he went abroad, at a
time when he looked upon himself as certain to remain a clergy-
man all his life, he had rebuilt his parish schools, and for this
purpose he had applied to his old uncle, the Earl of Harrowby,
who had always been kind to him. At his request, the old
earl had lent him ;£i,ooo. He thought at the time that this
loan would cause him no difficulty. But in his altered cir-
cumstances it became a heavy burden to him. It was a debt
of honor, and it seemed something like a dishonorable act to
take a step which made it impossible for him to pay it.*

But the call of God was clear, and no considerations of
a temporal nature could justify him in hesitating. No doubt
the many prayers that were being offered for them gained them
great and special blessings. The eldest boy, Harry, destined
later to become a distinguished Oratorian and one of the most
eminent champions of Catholic truth in England, was even then
gifted with a clearness of intellect unusual in a child of his
tender age. Though only nine years old, he used to listen
carefully to the conversations carried on between his father and
his Catholic friends, and he told his mother that to him "the
Catholics almost seemed to be in the right, only, of course,
papa knows best." His mother's teaching to him and his
younger brother Lisle, about our Blessed Lady, the saints and
angels, sorrow for sin and prayer for forgiveness, made him
long to be a Catholic, though she was unconscious of the ef-
fect she was producing; nor, as we have seen, was she herself
convinced at that time of the truth of the Catholic Church.

In God's good time, however, and much sooner than her
husband had dared to hope, the light of faith came to her soul.

On Sunday, May 3, the feast of the Finding of the Cross,

* In later times Lord Harrowby generously changed the loan into a gift.

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 493

she accompanied her husband and sister-in-law to the great
church of Santa Croce to receive the blessing which is given
on that day with the relic of the True Cross. Mrs. Ryder,
when she entered the church, was in the state in which she had
all along been. She knew that her husband was casting aside
his career, and all his earthly prospects, for what he believed
to be God's one true Church. In her soul there was no such
faith. But at the moment when the priest held aloft the sacred
relic, to bestow the blessing, Mrs. Ryder looked up, and it
seemed to her at that instant as if a bright light came from it
which penetrated to the very depths of her soul. She bowed
down her head and all she could say was: "I believe, I be-
lieve." All doubt and hesitation had left her. In an instant
her soul was filled with strong, calm faith, and with courage
to meet any trial which God should will to send her.

When she left Santa Croce, she told her husband and her
sister-in law that she was ready to join them and be received
with them into the Catholic Church. On the following day
they all three made their confession to Father Grassi, S.J., in
the chapel of the Scotch College, and on the day after they
drove to the house of Cardinal Acton, who had promised to
receive them. After a short instruction they made their pro-
fession of faith, and the cardinal administered conditional Bap-
tism. Thus was accomplished the great step which was to have
such momentous results for this world and the world to come.

Leaving the cardinal's palace they walked home along
what has been called " The Martyr's Way/' because of the
countless martyrs who have been led along it to torments and
death.

They could now feel that they were truly members of the
Church to which those glorious martyrs belonged and for which
they died ; they felt too that they could count on having the
same graces that had enabled those champions of Christ to per-
severe in spite of weary years of trial, and sharp, cruel suf-
ferings.

Before the end of that week the new converts had made
their First Communion and received Confirmation,* and as the
weather was then beginning to be very hot, they left Rome

* They were confirmed by Cardinal Franconi, Prefect of Propaganda, in his private
Oratory. When they arrived, they found Lord and Lady Shrewsbury and Lady Acton wait-
ing to act as god-parents to them. The Cardinal was exceedingly kind, and after the cere-
mony he presented to each of the ladies a beautiful rosary mounted in gold.

494 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

and settled for the summer at Frascati. Here they were to
taste the first of the trials consequent upon their conversion.
Two of George Ryder's brothers, Thomas and Alfred, arrived
from England early in June, bringing an order from their mother
for the return of the party without delay, or at least of their
sister, Sophy Ryder. They described the distress and indigna-
tion of their mother and the whole family as intense. Every
possible argument was used to shake their constancy, but they
had found Truth and could not return to error. No one can
tell the pain it was to all three to be obliged to cause such
suffering to those whom they loved so dearly. Mrs. Ryder's
mother, Mrs. Sargent, was broken-hearted at the news, and all
relations on both sides looked upon it as a terrible sin, and a
great disgrace, to leave the "Church of their Baptism," as it
was called; George Ryder was reminded of all he might look
forward to from a worldly point of view, which ought to influ-
ence him for his children's sake if not for his own. He was
reminded, too, that the Church of England was an indulgent
mother, who allows her children to hold any opinion they choose
provided that they do not " go over to Rome."

To all this George Ryder had but one answer: "The Church
of Rome is the one true Church and I can save my soul in no
other." He was made to understand how enthely they would
be cut off from the rest of the family, and he was bid to con-
sider the delicacy of his wife, as well as the interests of the
children. But all this was beside the question. He had counted
the cost and, as he said afterwards, had made the sacrifice of
everything into God's hands, believing that he was doirg God's
will. In return he received the grace of an unshaken confidence
that God would always give him what was necessary for the
good of his family even though he might have much to suffer.
This holy confidence remained with him as his great support
through his life, and never was he disappointed.

There were occasions when he undertook things for his chil-
dren, believing before God that they were for their greater
good, even when he did not actually possess the money neces-
sary for completing the plan. He was often blamed for this,
but his confidence never wavered, and never did the required
money fail to come to him, and often in ways the most unex-
pected, though sometimes it was delayed long enough to occa-
sion him a great deal of suffering. The actual humiliations and

1909.]

FOUR CELEBRITIES

495

privations of poverty he looked upon as beneficial, not hurtful.
If, however, there was a question of the education of his chil-
dren, care of their health, matter of vocation, and the like, he
trusted to his Heavenly Father to provide what was necessary,
and he was never disappointed.

Before leaving Rome the family were granted several audi-
ences with Pius IX., who was then beginning his illustrious
pontificate. On one of these occasions the Holy Father singled
out George Ryder's eldest son by laying his hand upon the
child's head and telling him that he would one day be a priest.
This came to pass. He became a member of the Birmingham
Oratory and succeeded Cardinal Newman as Superior of that
community. On his return to England, George Ryder was
offered by his cousin, Ambrose de Lisle Phillipps, a small house,
beautifully situated with several acres of ground, about a mile
from his own house, Grace Dieu. This new home, "the War-
ren," as it was called, must have been most acceptable to the
Ryders after the harassing though happy time through which
they had passed, and it was a house to which the children
looked back in after years as a peaceful and blessed home.
But, like so many glad and happy things in this world, it became
overshadowed by a great sorrow. In becoming a Catholic,
George Ryder had offered himself to God with a willingness to
endure any cross which He might lay upon him. In March,
1850, a grief, sudden and overwhelming, fell upon him. His
wife had never been strong, but no one suspected that her life
was in any danger. On March 20 she went, according to her
frequent custom, to visit a sick person in the neighboring village,
taking with her her youngest son, then only five years old, now
a priest of the Redemptorist Congregation. She returned some-
what fatigued and went to her room to rest. On the following
morning she suddenly breathed her last. It is said that her
husband, finding that his beloved wife, the mother of his chil-
dren, had really left him, fell prostrate on his face on the floor.
Like one who bows before the scourger, he lay under the af-
flicting hand of God ; but not then or ever aftarwards did he
once murmur at the heaviness of the blow.

A very remarkable event connected with Mrs. Ryder, and
one which throws a bright light upon her saintly character,
ought to be mentioned here. In December, 1849, she wrote to
her sister, Mrs. Henry Wilberforce, in these terms : " I do not

496 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

know how long you and Henry mean to remain in the Egyp-
tian darkness of Protestantism, but I do know that I should be
willing to die, leaving my husband and children, and undergo
all the purgatory that may be due to me, if by so doing I
could bring you all into God's true Church."

These words were written in December. In March the
writer died. In the following June her sister was a Catholic.
In the following September Henry Wilberforce and the rest of
his family were received.

It is scarcely open to doubt that Sophia Ryder had offered
her life for the salvation of these souls, and that God had ac-
cepted that great sacrifice.

Many years later George Ryder suffered another acute sor-
row in the death of his youngest daughter, Beatrice, who had
married Richard Hurrell Froude, and had gone with him to
India. This was in 1877, and it is probable that the unex-
pected blow shortened his life, though he received it, as he
received all his sorrows, with the most exemplary resignation.

He made a point all through his Catholic life of doing
everything in his power to advance the interests of the Church.
When every member of his large family was settled in his or
her vocation, he felt that he could serve God better by becom-
ing a priest. He spoke of this to his confessor, who very
prudently suspended his judgment and begged his penitent to
take other advice. He consulted Father George Pcrter, S J.,
(afterwards Archbishop of Bombay) and Cardinal Manning, who
both approved of the idea. His own children, on the other
hand, though they would have rejoiced much at seeing their
father a priest, never believed that it was the will of God that
he should be ordained ; and in the end his confessor, Canon
Ryrner, decided that God had not called him to change his
state of life.

Throughout his Catholic life he devoted himself much to
the service of the poor, making generous donations to charities
at a time when his own income was comparatively slender.
Wherever he lived he enrolled himself as a member of the
Society of St. Vincent de Paul, and delighted in visiting poor
families in their homes. Many a poor, squalid cottage and
many an overburdened heart have been brightened and solaced
by the sight of that sweet countenance and by the kind, tender
sympathy that George Ryder knew so well how to express.

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 497

It would be very difficult to convey in words to those who
never saw him the nobility and beauty of his face, his natural-
ly refined and well-chiselled features, and his expression, which
was made still more attractive and lovable by his extreme
goodness and the action of divine grace.

He was, besides, a raconteur of quite unusual excellence,
and his well-stored mind, his power of graphic description, and
his keen sense of humor made him everywhere a very popular
guest.

During his residence at Brighton he served as a member of
the first School Board, being the only Catholic elected. Owing
to changes which took place on the Board, the Church of
England party and the Dissenters became very evenly balanced,
so that for some time George Ryder possessed practically the
casting vote on any question upon which the other parties
were divided, and he was able to exert considerable influence
and to safeguard Catholic interests in a very efficient way.

In this, as in all his undertakings, he devoted himself heart
and soul to the service of the Church and the salvation of souls.

About this time he published a pamphlet, the first part of
which contained a very clear and effective statement of the
claims of the Catholic Church to be the one true Church of
Jesus Christ. It also exposed the nullity, or at the very best
the extreme doubtfulness, of Anglican Orders.* The occasion
of his writing this pamphlet was a peculiarly painful one.
While visiting a poor family at Brighton, he discovered that a
parson, believing in the validity of his Orders, had prevented
a poor Catholic from having the attendance of a priest. The
pamphlet was so clear and telling that it brought one person
at least into the Catholic Church.

In 1879, a few months after his daughter's death, George
Ryder became sensible of a serious failing of health, and in
May, 1880, he took to his bed, from which he never rose.
Every sick bed has a character and a feature which can be
crystalized into a motto. In George Ryder's case this was:
" Do not pray that I may recover, but that I may die a good
death." That was the great longing of his heart. He often
paid that he felt his work was finished, and that he had noth-

*This was of course many years before Leo XIII. 's decision pronouncing Anglican
Orders to be " absolutely null aad utterly vojdj^BSRSHFfBBlQi^lg^is eren now of considerable
•terest and value.

VOL. LXXXVIII.— 32

498 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Jan.,

ing left to live for. This work had been the training of his
children. At the time of their mother's death they were quite
young and the responsibilities of their education had devolved
entirely upon him. It was a joy to him as he lay on his bed
of death to feel that as good Catholics all in their sphere were
working for God. Of his four sons, three were priests. Of
his three daughters, the eldest was happily married, the second
was a Good Shepherd nun, while, as we have already said, the
youngest had died in India. All his living children were with
him in his illness, except the nun. He loved her dearly, but
he resigned himself to her absence, knowing that it was more
pleasing to God than if she had been present. One great con-
solation was the tenderness with which he was nursed and
cared for by his son — an official in the Treasury, who after-
wards held the important post of Chairman of the Board of
Customs, and later received knighthood. He had made his
home with his father for the last few years and was a bright
example of a devoted and loving son.

During this last illness the sick man was consoled by a visit
of several hours from the venerable Cardinal Newman, who
was then in his eightieth year. George Ryder had throughout
made resignation to the will of God the ruling principle of
his life, and on the death of his wife he had composed an Act
of Submission which was afterwards printed on his mortuary
card and on that of his youngest daughter. It was indulgenced
by Cardinal Manning. The last and crowning trial of his life
came to him in the form of a long and protracted agony which
lasted no less than seven days. A priest of many years' ex-
perience on the mission declared that he had never witnessed
a longer or more painful agony. While it lasted ore of the
Carmelite Fathers was constantly by the sick bed, giving all
possible consolation to the dying man, and when unconscious-
ness came, the three priest sons took turns to be by his side.
One of these, now a Redemptorist, writes: "I could not help
thinking of the words: * They that are Christ's have crucified
their flesh with its vices and concupiscences.' He was going
through his crucifixion like his Divine Master, and he was go-
ing to his reward. He had risked and ^sacrificed all for God,
and now he was dying in peace and perfect resignation. . . .
It was the afternoon of Saturday, June 19, 1880. I sud-
denly noticed a change in the breathing." The rest of the

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 499

family were immediately summoned. Father Cyril Ryder, hav-
ing faculties for the diocese, gave the customary absolutions,
while the others knelt at the bed praying.

On the Wednesday following his holy death, a High Mass
of Requiem was sung in the neighboring Carmelite church, his
eldest and youngest sons acting respectively as celebrant and
deacon. On the following morning the coffin was conveyed by
train to Loughborough and thence to the Cistercian monastery of
Mount St. Bernard. This house had been founded by Mr. de
Lisle, and as it lay close to " the Warren," where Ryder had spent
the first eleven years of his Catholic life, he greatly desired to
be buried there. Mrs. Ryder had at her death been laid in
the crypt of Grace Dieu chapel. At the very natural wish of
her children her body was moved to the churchyard of the
monastery and buried in the same grave as her husband.

It was a favorite practice of St. Alphonsus, and indeed of
other saints, to go in reality or in spirit into a cemetery where
some who had held high positions and dignities were buried.
He would *try to realize what they now thought of all their
riches or honors or success. He would think how death equal-
izes all, and that if one could take the poor skeletons and lay
them side by side, one could not tell who had been rich and
who poor; who master and who servant. It made him realize
the utter hollowness and vanity of the world and the things it
ralues, and it made him long to perform good works which
alone will be the treasures of our souls when this life is over.

This short sketch is in some sort like a visit to such a
cemetery. The chief actors are dead, and the few that survive
will soon follow them. No one who really believes in the Eter-
nal World can doubt that the sacrifices and sufferings which
George Ryder endured are infinitely more precious to him now
than all the honors and dignities which might have been his
had he not been faithful to Divine Grace. For him the sorrows
of life are over, and "the former things have passed away."

WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS.

BY H. E. P.

IX.

THE OLD FORGE.

|HAT be the old farge, Father, an* over there's
whur the wheel wur."

The place looked as unlike a blacksmith's
forge as anything well could. I had sought,
without success, for this curious spot on many
occasions, and I should not have found it now, but for the help
of an old lady of my flock who acted as my guide.

The farge, as she called it, looked like a disused stone
quarry. It was circular in shape and some fifty feet across —
its depth perhaps about twenty.

" Over there's whur the wheel wur, and the water come down
here and went in that there slocker-hole * in the bottom. When
there was floods old Jerry wur very near drownded."

Some broken stone steps, steep and slippery, led me to the
bottom. The walls were formed of the natural rock, and where
this failed, the gap was made good with masonry. On one side
a solidly built stone trough formed the bed in which a water
wheel once worked. The water from the stream was brought
in a wooden pipe, which shot its contents on the top of the
wheel and caused it to revolve. Here was the motive power
of the establishment. The great wooden axle on which it re-
volved stood out beyond the wheel some two or three feet.
It contained five great iron spikes which projected from it like
the spokes of a cart wheel. As the great water wheel revolved
these spikes revolved with it, and they caught and pressed down
an oaken beam, whose shank was shaved to a slant for the
purpose. As soon as a pin had pressed the shank down as low
as it would go, it slipt off, and the other end of the beam fell
with a terrific thud. At this end was the great, ironbound
hammer head. No sooner was the hammer down, than its han-

* Slocker-hole, a fault in the rocks.

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 501

die was caught by the next of the revolving pins, which pressed
it down as before. Then the pin slipt off again, and a second
thundering blow on the anvil was the result. With the help
of a number of mysterious rods and cranks, the bellows them-
selves were blown by power obtained from the wheel. When
the whole of the machinery was at work, the noise caused by
the great blows, and the clanking and rattling of the loosely-
working bellows rods, was deafening. The wheel creaked and
groaned under its load, and not being hung any too scientifi-
cally, added to the din. The pace of the hammer blows was
regulated by the water supply up above. This was turned on
and off by pulling or pushing a stick, which moved the last
foot of the wooden pipe and caused the water to fall either
over the wheel, or to shoot clear of it. The system was primi-
tive and splashy. Rough elm planks partly shut in the wheel
and made it keep some of the superfluous water to itself, but
the whole forge ran with moisture and the place was damp and
humid. Three parts of the circular pit was roofed over, and
above the fire was a hole through which the smoke was sup-
posed to escape into the air.

It is silent enough now in the old forge. The roof has gone
altogether, and there is nothing but a glorious blue sky, as I
stand at the bottom looking up. It is damp and chilly down
in this well, and I get back again to the upper level with a
feeling of relief.

" And did old Jerry live down there long ? " I ask.

" From the time he wur a boy till he went blind. It wur
that dark down there times that you couldn't see nothing, and
damp so that it 'uld 'a killed anybody but old Jerry, and he
wur one of the tough sart, he wur."

Jane Snook pushed her dirty old linen bonnet further on to
the back of her head, and with a hand on each hip, she con-
tinued : " You hear'd what he did afore he died, I s'pose, Fa-
ther ? Folks said at first as Alice Milburn art to be 'shamed
of herself; but they soon got to talk different when they seen
what she done it for. She wur a good girl, she wur, and I
don't care what nobody says. Be 'e a comin' in, Father ? "

We walk to Mrs. Snook's home across the grass of two
meadows.

"Who knows the story of old Jerry and Alice best?" I ask,
as I sit on the settle before the fireplace.

502 WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS [Jan.,

•

"Blest if I do know, Father. They be arl that stuck up
and full o' pride now a-days, that there's no talking to 'em
about nothing. I sent Perkins* maid to shop day afore yester-
day, and she 'idn't a come back yet — she's los' the money or
forgot what I sent her for — one or t'other o' it. They be arl
the same and I ain't a got no patience wi' 'em."

I didn't want to disagree with Mrs. Snook, so I let her talk.

"You d' know what Alice Milburn did wi' old Jerry, don't
ye, Father? No? Well, I'm blest. I thought everybody
knowd that — git out, 'ull 'e ? " The last remark was addressed
to about half-a-dozen hens who had walked into the kitchen,
and were so tame that Mrs. Snook found it difficult to dislodge
them. All the while we were talking the old lady was busy
pushing sticks into the fire to make the kettle boil. With one
of these sticks she drove the chickens from the room, and then
sat down on an old box and wiped her face with a rather dirty
apron.

Mrs. Snook farmed. That is she kept a number of fowls, a
pig or two, and cultivated an untidy, weedy garden. She set
and dug her own potatoes, wore rather short skirts, and boots
like a man's. I don't think I ever saw her without the linen
bonnet, and through all the years I knew her, I believe it was
always the same one. Mrs. Snook was honest, dirty, and hearty.

The one thing I dreaded when I went to see her was the
cup of tea. A brown earthenware teapot, with the top of a
tin can doing duty for a lid, lived in the oven beside the
grate, like hermit in a cave. The tea that came ©ut of it must
have stewed for generations. If the color gave out ever so
faintly, Mrs. Snook would add more tea, and put the pot back
again into its cell, till things righted themselves. On this ter-
rible liquid she lived. Sugar was added but no milk — milk
implied softness. I had to protest that I could not take tea,
that it made me ill, that — in fact, anything that would stave
off a dose of the poison ; but I'm afraid the refusal always
hurt Mrs. Snook's feelings, and sometimes she showed it.

" If I tells you about that there affair, you won't write it
down, 'ull ye ?"

I promised accordingly. Mjrs. Snook poured herself out a
cup of the correct color, and taking a saucepan into her lap,
began to eat cold potatoes out of it with a steel fork. As I
promised I wouldn't write down what she said — I'm afraid I

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 503

have an evil reputation in the parish for doing this — I must
keep to the bargain, and relate the story in my own words.

Jerry, I learn, works early and works late at his forge. He
is a little man, bent nearly at a right angle, and he wears a
pair of glasses that are set in round horn frames, perhaps a
quarter of an inch wide. The wires at the side are iron, and
have been made or repaired on his own anvil. He is slow in
his movements, and seems to keep time with his great ham-
mer, which strikes its ponderous blows at a pace that is above
hurry. As you watch him he fishes a queer shaped piece of
iron, glowing white hot, out of the fire, and carrying it in the
tongs, holds it on the anvil beneath the great hammer, wait-
ing for a blow. Jerry pulls the stick which regulates the water
supply, and a full charge falls upon the wheel. Its increased
pace makes the hammer lift its head and fall again with double
speed. This way and that he turns the glowing metal, and
as blow after blow falls upon it, the iron begins to grow into
a shape. Then it becomes cold and is put back into the fire
again. Once more Jerry places the metal under the hammer,
and when he has turned it a time or two, he throws it on the
floor behind him, a nearly finished miner's shovel. Out of the
fire comes another piece of iron and the process is repeated ;
and so Jerry spends his day, spends his week — nay, spends
his life. Sometimes his work is varied with repairing half-worn
shovels and picks, or a hanger for a farm gate is wanted, or a
latch for a door, but Jerry never encourages fancy blacksmith-
ing, for his work is to make shovels, and shovels only. If
any one speaks to him he answers shortly and uncivilly.

His forge is so far off the road, and the road is so little
frequented, that visitors do not trouble him much. Sometimes
a farm boy, working in the fields at hand, will come to the
edge of the forge, and shout at the old man to make him look
up. But Jerry never hears. The din of the machinery, or his
native obstinacy, makes him deaf to every sound. Kicking up
a turf with his heel, the boy waits till the blacksmith has his
back to him, then takes a deliberate shot with the lump of
turf, and drops flat on the ground to watch results. The re-
sult is always the same. Jerry dances round and round, wav-
ing his tongs above his head and saying things which the
clatter of the workshop effectually prevents reaching the upper
world. If the antics are not considered up to the mark, the boy

504 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Jan.,

takes a second shot with something lying close at hand, and
watches till the dance is over. Then he crawls backwards a
yard or two from the edge, and getting up, returns whistling
to his work.

For years beyond any one's memory, Jerry had lived in a
little two- room cottage, with thick mud walls, which was but a
stone's throw from the forge. The roof of his house was
thatch, and the rafters on which it lay showed inside, for the
rooms had no ceiling. The door was so low, that even Jerry
himself, little and bent as he was, had to bend yet more when
he entered, to avoid knocking his head. The woman who was
Mrs. Snook's predecessor, lived in the only other cottage any-
where near, and this was, as I said, two fields away from the
forge. She brought Jerry's food, and the little else he wanted,
and placed it in the porch, for she was never allowed inside
the door.

Every now and then Jerry disappeared. He would ask the
woman at the cottage not to put any more food for him, and
then, locking up the part of the forge where the tools were
kept, the old man would be lost sight of for about three days
at a time. Mrs. Snook said he was like the corn-crake [land-
rail] "he did come you didn't know how, and you only knowed
he wur come, when you did hear 'un." No one saw Jerry
depart, and no one saw him return. Like all else about him,
his coming and his going were wrapped in mystery.

As the years passed, Jerry's increasing age began to find
him out. The terrible damp in which he always worked pro-
duced rheumatism, and from all accounts, this must have at-
tacked his eyes. Few persons interested themselves in the
morose old blacksmith, and when folk in the village — which
was quite two miles away from Jerry's forge — heard that the
great hammer was stopped, they only remarked that that was
always what they said would happen. But after a week or two,
the hammer began again and Jerry was better for his rest.

It was a day in the early summer soon after his illness,
and Jerry was at work as usual. Suddenly — he hardly knew
where it came from — he was confronted with an apparition.
A slight, fair girl, with a quantity of light hair that the stiff
linen bonnet seemed unable to control — a girl, fresh as a
spring morning, with pretty eyes and a gentle face, had come
down the steep steps, and was standing before the crumpled

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 505

up, dirty old Jerry, who glared at her through his black-
rimmed spectacles.

" I heard thou wast main bad, Jerry, and I be come to see
how thou be'st."

"Eh?"

" I hope thou be'st better," shouted the girl, trying to make
herself heard above the din of the machinery.

" What's odds to thee ? "

Not noticing the old man's rudeness, she laid her hand en
his arm with such a singular gentleness, that Jerry started.
" Stop the wheel a minute, I do want to talk to thee," said
his visitor. " I won't hinder thee long."

Jerry turned round to the forge, and began raking the fire
together, as if he hadn't heard. The girl took a step towards
him and pointed to the wheel. Slowly, reluctantly, the old
man went over to it and pushed up the controlling stick. In
a moment or two the noise ceased, and Alice Milburn began
again.

" T'other day, when I heard thee eyes wur bad, and thou
coulds'n't work, I thought I'd come and see if I could do any-
thing for thee. Let's look at 'em." Without giving Jerry a
chance to resist, placing one hand on his shoulder, with the
other she pushed his glasses up on to his forehead and looked
at his eyes. Jerry could hardly believe such a thing possible
— that he could let any one, much less such a bit of a girl as
this, take such a liberty with him.

"They be very bad, Jerry, and they do want bathing. If
doesn't have 'em seed to, thou 'ult go blind, and then the
wheel 'ull stop altogether. Let I come and do 'em for thee,
'ult [wilt thou] ? I'll be ever so gentle, and they 'ull be a
site better for it."

Jerry made no reply at all. He pulled his glasses down
again and stood still.

"You'll let I make 'em better, won't 'e ? " Alice asked
again.

" How did 'ee get down here ? "

"By them steps, be sure," she said, laughing.

" Get up 'em again, and get out of my way." Saying this,
Jerry pushed rudely past her, pulled the stick, and a moment
afterwards the hubbub of the forge was deafening.

Alice took him at his word and leaving the forge went up

5o6 WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS [Jan.,

into the field and sat on the stile a short distance away. She
was a curious character for, in spite of her fair, gentle face and
slight frame, she had the heart and courage of a man.

"I'll try him again presently/1 she said to herself; and if
he ain't no better, I'll come again to-morrow."

Presently she heard a step behind her, and looking over
her shoulder saw Jerry, to her great surprise.

" Come to-morrow, if you've got a mind," he said with a
sort of growl. Alice took no notice.

"Do 'ee hear?"

"Yes."

The old blacksmith slowly hobbled back to his steps, and
Alice saw his head sink below the edge of the opening. She
thought it best to treat him with as little ceremony as he
treated her, and she was right.

Next morning Alice was back at the forge. She had brought
a basin with her, and a kettle which she rilled at the stream
before she went down the steps.

" Put he on the fire and bile 'un up quick," said Alice, as
she handed the astonished old man the little kettle. But he
stood with it in his hand, firm and obstinate.

" You be duddered [made stupid] with the noise, I suppose,"
she said, taking the kettle from Jerry and setting it on the
fire iierself. It was not long before the water was hot. Turn-
ing an old bucket upside down for a seat, she set the basin
filled with warm water beside it. " Now sit thee down there,
Jerry, and let I bathe thee eyes."

"I 'oon't."

Alice took no notice, as if she hadn't heard. " Don't bide
standin' there whilst the water do get cold ; sit down at 'onct."
Very gently she took the old man by the arm and made him
sit down.

"I 'oon't let 'ee; I 'oon't let 'ee ! " he protested, as Alice
took off first his greasy cap and then his glasses. The next
moment she had put the basin in Jerry's lap, and then, on her
knees beside him, she bathed his swollen and inflamed eyes.
All the time she was at work her soft, soothing voice kept the
old man from protesting; and when she had finished, and the
wet cloth had traveled out of its due course over his begrimed
features as far as she deemed it prudent, she gently dried his
face and replaced the spectacles and cap.

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY I&YLLS 507

"Be you coming to-morrow?"

" Yes, I be."

And this was all that was said on either side. Alice came
the next day and the next; and at each visit Jerry was brought
more and more into order.

" Now say ' thank 'e,' " she said to him one morning when
she had finished his toilet. Jerry made the reply as he was
bidden, and added : " An* that be more nor I ever said to any
one afore in me life."

The old blacksmith was not the only patient Alice had to
attend to. Most of the poor creatures the girl visited were
thankful enough for her ministrations; and "good little Alice,"
as they called her, was welcome everywhere. Her self-imposed
tasks made sad inroads on her time, for she earned her liveli-
hood by knitting, as did so many in the village in those days.

Alice Milburn could ill afford the time she gave to nursing
the sick, and tending the old and feeble, but she had done
it since she was quite a child, and now, although she had to
support herself entirely, she still kept up the practice. At two
and twenty she seemed just the little, merry, light-hearted
child she had always been — just as independent, and caring as
little what any one thought of her. To her neighbors she was
a profound puzzle. They had known her mother — " stuck up,"
they called her and fond of giving herself airs. They con-
cluded that Mrs. Milburn had put all kinds of grand and flighty
ideas into little Alice's head ; and when the poor child's mother
died, they charitably hoped that, now the influence was re-
moved, she would grow up like other children. But her mother's
death made little difference in her ways, and the lessons she
had early learnt only developed more strongly as she grew
older. Alice lived with a neighbor from the time she was left
an orphan, and by knitting earned enough to be scarcely any
burden ; and before many years were passed she was able to
keep herself entirely.

About a year before Alice Milburn began her ministrations
to the old blacksmith she had shown herself to be like other
girls in one respect at least, in as much as she had allowed
and encouraged the attentions of a suitor. The entire village
was taken by surprise. That Alice could ever marry did not
seem to have occurred to any one. She kept herself so aloof,
and yet made friends with every one, and with no one in par-

508 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Jan.,

ticular, that it appeared impossible she could have a sweetheart.
The young man who had had the temerity to walk out with
her was the very last the village could have imagined she
would have cared for. Josh, as every one called him, was a farm
laborer — a huge, fresh-colored fellow, awkward and blushing,
with very little to say for himself, and possessing a fund of good
temper. He had found Alice going out one wet evening on an
errand of mercy, and she was so loaded with a great parcel
that she was giving up the umbrella in despair. Joshua Vagg
was passing at the time, and very shyly asked if he might carry
the parcel. " Of course you can, if you're strong enough,"
said Alice; "and then I can keep up the umbrella.1* But this
spoilt everything. Alice was very ^short, and she kept the
umbrella close down over her. Josh was very tall and he could
only look on the top of a black dome beneath him, as he strode
along, taking one step to Alice's three. Of Alice he could see
nothing, and only now and then could he hear her voice com-
ing up through the umbrella below. When they arrived at
the end of the journey, the young man asked if he was to
wait and carry anything back. " I sha'n't be more than two or
three minutes, for I only wants to give old Nancy the parcel,
and tell her what to do with the different things." This was
good enough for Josh, and so, with a beating heart and a drip-
ping hat, he stood under a tree opposite until Alice came out
again. " Let I hold the umbrella for thee," he said, as they
started on the return journey, for he was determined to avoid
the isolation it had caused before. "You do hold 'un up in
the sky, Josh; but I s'pose you be obliged to if it's to keep
the rain off thee and I too — don't walk so fast, there's a good
lad." Josh winced. He thought he was getting on splendidly,
but Alice was only treating him as a child. " 'Ull 'ee be
car'in' [carrying] any more o* them parcels to-morrow?" he
asked in his slow, drawling way ; " 'cause if you be, and you
be minded to, Til — I'll — come and help." The last three words
came out with a run, for he was frightened at his own temer-
ity. " I don't know yet, Josh. Come round about seven o'clock,
and mabbe I can send thee somewhere with sommat, and then
I can bide in an' do me knitting, for I be behind wi' the work,
and that's true." This was not exactly what Josh meant, but
he said he would come.

From this day onwards Josh and Alice often " walked out,"

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 509

which means that they were mildly making love. Alice did all
the talking — Josh listened and approved. He carried her bas-
ket, and still called her " Miss," for to Josh, Alice was a very
superior being. When Jerry became seriously ill, if Alice went
to visit him in the evening, when it was getting too dark to
knit at home, Josh had quite a good spell of her company.
The long, winding lane leading to the forge, where the nut
bushes met overhead, tke stream that had to be crossed on
stepping-stones, the stile at the end which was steep and awk-
ward— all gave Josh scope for imagination. When they came
to the stepping-stones, he would cross first, and then hold out
a great hand that would engulf and wrap round Alice's, and so
help her over, when she could have crossed quite as easily
without any help at all. Where the lane became " up at hill,"
as they called it, Alice would put her hand on Josh's arm and
complain he went too fast, and Josh's arm would get lower,
and Alice's hand would get further into it, until when they
reached the stile it would have been difficult to say that they
were not arm in arm.

The reader will remember that Mrs. Snook is retailing this
story for me, while she takes her tea. Thus far I have sat pa-
tiently through it, .on the old settle before the fire. When,
with every fresh name that was mentioned, the relations to the
third and fourth generation threatened to be brought in, I have
prudently drawn the lady back to the point where she digressed.
Except for these excursions, the story is as she gave it to me.
At this point Mrs. Snook exclaims : " Be now the pair on 'em
wur main lovin', they were"; but as I told her I wouldn't
write down any of her words, I must keep to my promise.

Old Jerry's eyes were better for Alice's visits, but before
very many weeks he had to stop work again. Alice had by
this time got on such good terms with him, that he even al-
lowed her in the cottage. Under her care the place was cleaned,
set in order, and she even persuaded him to let Josh give the
rooms a coat of whitewash. Before the autumn came Jerry
was quite blind and almost incapable of doing anything for
himself. He had consented to the doctor seeing him at Alice's
urgent request, and the doctor having reported his case to the
workhouse officials, they decided to remove him thither at
once. This Jerry would not hear of. Alice arrived one morn-
ing as the overseer of the poor and the parish doctor were

510 WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS [Jan.,

holding a consultation in the garden, out of the old man's
hearing. " He sha'n't go to the House," she said in very de-
cided tones, " I'll look after 'un and Til be responsible for 'un;
and if I'm not let, I'll get some one else as can. 'Ull 'e let
he bide a fortnight more till I do get it settled ? " This was
agreed to, and Alice made her plans. Yes ; Jerry agreed, he
even smiled, and it was the first time Alice had ever seen any-
thing like a smile upon his face. But Josh was the great dif-
ficulty— she must break the arrangement to him.

That evening as they were walking out she tried. "Josh,
I've a got some arrangement I do want to make, and you must
help I." Josh smiled and said nothing. "You do see as us
can't marry just yet, can us ? — not for two years or more,
'cause of your mother." Josh had to support his mother, and
his wages were ten shillings a week. " I'll be getting twelve
shillings before two years, though," said Josh, in a rather in-
jured tone of voice, " and us said as how we'd a get married
when I'd a got eleven." "Yes, so us did; but, Josh, when 'e
marries 'uld 'e mind marr'in' a widow?" Alice asked, and there
was the least sign of a tremble in her voice. " Marry a widder,
what should I want to marry a widder for ?" he asked. "Well,
'cause I wants 'e to," she replied. "And if I do want 'e to,
'e 'all do it just to please I, won't 'e ? "

She turned up the stiff linen bonnet to look at Josh, who
was so far above her, and the face inside it pleaded very
sweetly. " I bain't gwoin' to marry no other maid than thou,
Alice, and that's truth; and I couldn't, e'en to please thee."
"And I don't want 'e to, neither, Josh; only what I means is,
I'll be a widow when we do marry." "Then dost thou want
to marry somebody else fust, Alice ? " he asked in a tone of
bewilderment. "That's just what I do, Josh, and that's what
I do want thee to let I do, and it won't matter; and then I
can look after old Jerry properly till he do die."

Josh stood still in the lane. His mind always worked slowly,
and new ideas effected a lodgment with difficulty, but this
arrangement of Alice's was quite beyond anything that had
ever entered his head before. Alice continued : " You do see,
Josh, it be like this. They do want to take the poor old man
to the workhouse, and it 'ull break his heart, and no one 'ull
do for him 'cept it's I, and it ain't proper for a girl to do for
an old man like that, who 'ull be bed-ridden in a month or

1909.] WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS 511

two. I won't live in the house with 'un, and do for 'un, un-
less I be married to 'un, and that's plain." "Then you do
mean that by the time we wants to marry, you'll be a wid-
der ? " said Josh, the light beginning to break in on him.,
"Somewhere about that, but mabbe we'll have to be patient."

The parson at Elmwick found it difficult to give out the
banns of marriage between Jerry Stripp and Alice Milburn, and
the announcement on the three successive Sundays seemed to
effect the congregation too. The wedding day came, and all of
two villages — ours and Elmwick — turned out to see " Decem-
ber marry May." Eleven o'clock was the hour fixed, and the
crowd was in good time. Still no bride and bridegroom came,
and rumor had it that the parson had gone away for the day.
But the sight was too good to be lost ; and as things don't
harry much in the country, the crowd waited until another
hour had passed, and then slowly melted. Jerry and Alice had
been quietly married at eight o'clock the morning before.
Alice had not entrusted the secret to any one except Josh,
and so he and the parson's wife were the only witnesses. Poor,
simple Josh had to "give away" his sweetheart and had to
guide old Jerry's trembling hands when it came to putting on
the ring — the ring, by the way, which he had bought at Bristol
for the aged bridegroom a week or so before. As Mrs. Snook
here remarked : " He'd had all the trouble of it, 'cept marr'in'
her."

Twelve months passed away, and old Jerry was completely
bed ridden. Alice waited on him, put up with his temper, was
heedless of his rudeness, and to a certain degree made him
better behaved. Josh had a difficult time. A day or two after
the wedding he asked Alice to walk out with him as usual.
Alice had to explain that now since she was a married woman
this couldn't be.

Only slowly the new situation began to reveal itself to Josh.
" Bain't I never gwoin' out wi' thee no more ? " he asked rue-
fully. " Not so long as me husband do live," Alice answered
with dignity, "it 'ouldn't be right." "I know'd I'd have to
wait for thee," he said, " but I didn't think it 'uld a come to
this. What I wants to know is, are we gwoin' to get married
at arl ? " " Don't you see, Josh, I be married, and therefore
us can't marry — ain't that quite plain ? " Yes, it was plain ;'
but it was all too complicated for Josh to think out.

512 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Jan.

The winter had passed, the days were lengthening out, and
the first tinge of green was on the hedges. A rustic funeral
was making its way to the churchyard at Elmwick. The cof-
fin, short and small, might almost have been that of a child.
Four men carried it between them, and the way they stepped
out, showed that the coffin was not heavy. Behind it followed
Alice, her linen bonnet being exchanged for a black straw hat
— and behind Alice followed Josh. He had not felt certain of
his position on the occasion, and the idea that there is always
a procession after a coffin, suggested his walking where he did.

A few of Alice's friends gathered at the graveyard, and
then all that was mortal of Jerry was given to the earth. It
is the custom for the bearers and friends to return to the house
after the funeral, and eat a ham, and finish with beer or cider.
Alice dispensed with the time-h©nored custom, and did not
even return to the house herself. She had the key in her poc-
ket when Josh bade her good-bye at the door of the cottage
where she had spent her childhood. She had arranged to re-
turn there, as her late home was too lonely.

By the time the nut trees had once more made green arches
across the lane that led to the old forge, Josh and Alice might be
seen beneath them as of old. Once again he handed her across
the stream, and when they came to the stile, he helped her
over. Hand-in-hand they stood on the brink of the silent
forge, which Josh had stript of all but the great wheel, and
then they went across to the cottage, and Alice's husband
pointed out with pride the little garden where of late he had
worked so hard reducing it to order.

"And now you do see what it arl corned to, Father," said
Mrs. Snook, as she held aloft the last potato on the point of
her fork, " it's the way them things al'ays ends. Alice had a
found twenty pound in the house, when she fust went to take
care of the old man, so there wus enough to ke'p 'un till he
died, and to bury him decent wi' a ham an* arl that, had she
bin minded to. After he wur agone she found dree hundred
pound in the bank down to Wells, and that proved whur old
Jerry wur arf to, when he went on them navigations and wur
lost two or dree days at a time. They be arl dead now, Josh
and Jerry and Alice, an' arl the lot of 'em. Git out, 'ull
'ee ? " The fowls were back in the kitchen again.

THE FATE OF BOSNIA.

SOME IMPRESSIONS OF AN IMMEDIATE OBSERVER.
BY BEN HURST.

THE declaration by Bulgaria of her independence and the an-
nexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina by Austria have, of course,
surpassed in interest and importance every other recent event.
How long behind the scenes these transactions have been in prepa-
ration we do not yet know ; but it may be well to give a rhume of
the facts that are known. Upon the granting of the Constitution
Turks and Bulgarians fraternized as cordially as did the other races.
A series of visits, in fact, took place of Bulgarians to Constanti-
nople and of Turks to Bulgaria. The first step in the wrong direc-
tion was taken by Turkey. To a dinner given by the Foreign Min-
ister to the representatives of the Powers the Agent of Bulgaria was
not invited. This was contrary to the custom which had existed
hitherto, and was said to be intended as a clear indication that Bul-
garia was to be treated, as in fact she was, as a vassal state.

Bulgaria keenly resented this treatment, and when the strike
broke out upon the Oriental Railway, a part of which passes
through Eastern Rumelia on its way from Vienna to Constanti-
nople, that part was seized by Bulgaria to be worked by the railway
staff of the army ; and when the strike came to an end, she persist-
ently refused to restore the railway to the Company. This was
nothing less than robbery on a large scale, for the railway's rights
in Bulgaria were legally secured ; and as its owners were largely
German, and its managers largely Austrian, it brought from their
governments public remonstrances. With reference to Austria, at all
events, it may be doubted in the light of subsequent events whether
these remonstrances were sincere. Before Prince Ferdinand de-
clared himself Tsar of the Bulgarians he had been received at Buda-
pest with regal honors by the Emperor Francis Joseph, and it can
readily be believed that, as is now said, a secret treaty had been
concluded between the Prince and the Emperor. A few days after-
wards Bulgaria's independence was declared, and almost simultane-
ously Bosnia and Herzegovina were annexed.

5i4 THE FATE OF BOSNIA [Jan.,

forms the basis of any rights that Austria or Bulgaria can claim
to possess. Of late sympathy and respect have been accorded to
the Emperor-King on the occasion of his Diamond Jubilee. It is
almost a pity that he has lived to see this event, for he has
brought a stain upon his old age which only revives the memory
of many like stains upon the house of Habsburg. The worst of it is
that of late these attempts at unjust aggrandizement have been
failures, so much so that Austrian shortsightedness has become
proverbial. The present annexation does but add to the number of
the Serbs which are already comprised in the Empire, and has
driven to exasperation the neighboring kingdom of Servia. [FROM
THE CATHOLIC WORLD OF NOVEMBER, 1908.]

ITHOUT preamble or explanation Austria has
lately incorporated into her empire two Slav
provinces — Bosnia and Herzegovina, which had
been merely confided to her charge by the Con-
gress of Berlin. Austria has taken this step
without a word of warning or of explanation and has trusted
to the universal desire for peace to escape punishment or in-
terference.

Lovers of the moral law and believers in human progress
may find some consolation, at least, in the outburst of con-
demnation which this act has aroused throughout the Euro-
pean world. Europe — the Europe that has seen twenty cen-
turies of spoliation — is outraged by this unblushing violation
of a solemn contract.

Much has been said, and can be said in reason, to palliate
Austria's usurpation. She has accomplished material reforms
and developed the countries' resources during her thirty years
of guardianship. Good roads, comfortable inns, roomy school-
houses and hospitals have initiated the people into the conven-
iences and advantages of modern life. Such delights, how-
ever, are confined to the great centers frequented by tourists,
and the remote parts of the provinces have not known a
change since the day of Turkish rule. Her interested ex-
ploitation increased Austria's revenues and gave her a hold in
the land, the absolute possession of which was her ultimate aim.
That she should claim to reap the full fruits of her work of ad-
ministration might have been foreseen; that she should continue
to exercise a certain jurisdiction after the grant of the promised

1909.] THE FATE OF BOSNIA 515

share of autonomy, could not reasonably excite cavil ; but the
arbitrary seizure of the lands delivered to her care has alienated
appreciation of her best and fairest endeavor.

The pretext for abandoning an avowed intention to con-
fer a system of self-government on Bosnia and Herzegovina,
was the " radical and dangerous change in the neighboring
empire." In other words, the Young Turk movement, inau-
gurating freedom of nationality and conscience, is unacceptable
to the Power which poses as the civilizer of the Balkans. As the
Sultan is the nominal suzerain of Bosnia, the existence of a Turk-
ish parliament would necessitate the attendance of Bosnian repre-
sentatives at Constantinople and the recognition of an author-
ity— Bosnia's right to send representatives — which no longer
exists. Either this or the introduction of constitutional gov-
ernment in the occupied provinces seemed the only alterna-
tive. But Austria chose a third and dishonest course. With-
out any preliminary steps, she simply proclaimed an act of
union such as was resorted to by Castlereagh in a similar
dilemma one century ago. No measure of liberty is granted
to a people writhing under absolutism ; there is no canceling
of the iniquitous press censorship ; martial law for political
offences has not been abolished; there is but the harsh, cynical
appropriation of a foreign race, recalcitrant but powerless to
resist.

The inhabitants of Bosnia and Herzegovina are historically
and ethnographically Serb. In customs, language, and creed
they are identical with the Serbs of the free kingdom of Servia;
the Serbs of Montenegro ; and the Serbs of Old Servia and
Macedonia still under Ottoman rule. Serb tribes had settled
in Bosnia in the seventh century and in the ninth a state was
already formed. Among the various Serb kingdoms and prin-
cipalities Bosnia kept a prominent place, although it remained
isolated until the fifteenth century, when after a brave stand
with its sister states it fell beneath Moslem invasion. Long
afterwards we find the Austrian Emperors alluding to Bosnia
as a Serb land, and all through the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries Serb nationality was manifest and undisputed. The
present efforts to call the people " Bosnians " and their tongue
" Bosnian " are pitiable in the light of facts. Bosnia was the
cradle of the renovated Serb language, and gave out the first
modern Serb publication — Ike Grammar of Kulina Ban, a stand-

516 THE FATE OF BOSNIA [Jan.,

ard work for Slav philologists. The everyday speech of the
people of Herzegovina is the literary criterion for all Serb
peoples, be they Montenegrins or Macedonians. The famous
Serb ballads, finest of mediaeval epics, are written in Bosnian
dialect.

Identity of speech does not, however, determine national-
ity. A stronger factor is the ever-growing tendency to union
between the divided branches of a race, and this is evident
among the Serbs of the Balkans to a remarkable degree. The
question of creed, which plays but a minor part in political life
to-day, would, if considered, prove another link of fraternity
to draw Servia, Bosnia, and Montenegro together. The major-
ity of Bosnia's population are " orthodox " ; next in numerical
importance are Mohammedans ; and Catholics are in a minority.
(The latest census gives 673,246 "orthodox" Serbs; 548,632
Mussulmans; and 334,142 Catholics.) There is no doubt that
Austria sought to further at the same time political aims and
religious propaganda, and that she has succeeded in shifting a
measure of her own unpopularity to certain representatives of
the Church. The superficial judge, forgetting that Austria's
most rebellious subjects are just now the fervent Catholics of
Siavonia, confounds Austria's ambitious schemes with the cause
of Catholicity and passes upon both a common condemnation.

Fair-minded Catholics the world over have not hesitated to
characterize in scathing terms the flagrant breach of contract
committed by Austria in annexing the lands confided to her
care. The would-be champion of the Church in Southeastern
Europe has tarnished her shield and alienated sympathy from
what is most worthy of respect. The admirable work of the
religious orders in Bosnia cannot be overestimated. Their edu-
cational and humanitarian foundations redound to the credit of
Christianity. These obscure toilers in the Lord's vineyards
should surely have no blame attached to their noble endeavor
because they stand beneath the banner of one who presumes
to point to their success as justification for treacherous aggran-
dizement of empire. No amount of philanthropic institutions
will wash away the stain of broken faith ; n©r must the de-
voted servants of the Church, ministering to the material and
spiritual needs of a long-oppressed race, be identified with
spoliation.

Unhappily, nevertheless, Austria's recent action has inten-

1909.] THE FATE OF BOSNIA 517

sified an old prejudice against Catholicity among the Serbs of
the Balkans, and estranged the Catholics of Montenegro from
their brethren who owe her allegiance. The fate of Bosnia and
Herzegovina has a dolorous echo in a little Slav land where
Catholics enjoy every privilege possessed by their compatriots
of the state religion. At the moment that Bosnia was passing
under Habsburg rule, Prince Nikola of Montenegro addressed
the following telegram to his lifelong friend, the Catholic Pri-
mate of the Principality, Monseigneur Milinovitch, Archbishop
of Bar:

On this, the occasion of your jubilee, I hasten to assure you
that it is a day of joy for Montenegrins of all creeds. Our
earnest wish and fervent prayer are for your Grace's con-
tinued welfare. Living amongst us for nigh fifty years you
have worked, Faithful Servant of the Altar and True Friend
of your people, to elevate and advance our race. Looking
back on the half-century of your priesthood you may rejoice
at duty fulfilled towards God and the nation. An enlightened
patriot and good Catholic, may you long be spared to brighten
our land by your wisdom and virtue. NIKOLA.

This telegram would in itself show that Austria has not the
exclusive monopoly of protecting Catholicity in the Balkans.
The erection of churches and monasteries in Bosnia and Dal-
matia is no doubt praiseworthy, but liberty of action for the
devoted Italian missionaries in Albania would be a better proof
of sincerity in espousing the interests of the Church.

What Austria fails to recognize — or, recognizing, fails to
admit — is that the Kingdom of Christ is not indissolubly con-
nected with her own material prosperity, nor dependent on the
political triumphs of her Empire and Dynasty. Her protection
of the Church is decidedly not disinterested. She put a veto
on the concordat between Servia and the Vatican. That ardent
Slav apostle, Bishop Strossmeyer, was a thorn in her side. She
wishes all Slav Catholics to rally to her flag, and determines
they will have little rest elsewhere. Her dishonest machinations
are harmful to what she affects to uphold, but she pursues her
way, greedy and faithless.

It remains to be seen how far Austria can influence a peo-
ple whose ancestors clung to the Bogumil heresy through cen-
turies of persecution, and finally embraced Islamism in numbers

5i8 THE FATE OF BOSNIA [Jan.,

rather than submit to ecclesiastical control. The true interests
of sincere Catholicism will scarcely be furthered by the annex-
ation of Bosnia. Austria's boasted culture, ever suspected as
tending to denationalization, will be doubly unpalatable to a
race, alien and wounded by the loss of the last vestige of
liberty. Bosnia had entered on a heroic struggle for something
more than that fourteen per cent of her children should be
enabled to attend school ! For this is exactly what has been
accomplished in the cause of education during thirty years of
Austrian administration.

In 1875 the first shots of the rebels against Turkish des-
potism echoed in Nevesinje, and soon resounded in Popova
Polya, Zubtsina, Bania, and throughout all Bosnia and Herze-
govina. The " Rayahs " had made a dash for freedom. Hard
battles were fought at Nevesinje, Stoep, and Trebbin. To the
astonishment of the world a handful of Serbs persistently de-
feated the Sultan's forces. Their brethren of the free States
of Servia and Montenegro hastened to join them, and the two
Governments prepared to follow the volunteers. But the Triple
Alliance of that day stepped in; and in the interests of "peace
and Turkish integrity " exacted neutrality from these neigh-
boring and kindred states. Resistance in Bosnia continued none
the less, and after the flame of insurrection had smoldered close
on three years, Russia took action and peace was proclaimed.
The Treaty of San Stefano, concluded in favor of the Chris-
tian belligerants, was annulled at the instance of Lord Beacons-
field, and replaced by the Treaty of Berlin, to which all the
Great Powers were signatories. Austro-Hungary got a man-
date to pacify the disturbed provinces — and, immediately trans-
gressing a first stipulation that she should make an arrange-
ment of time and method with Turkey, entered Bosnian terri-
tory as a conqueror. The unfortunate insurgents, who had
taken up arms for independence and not for a mere exchange
of masters, received the imperial troops with sword and shot.
At Modrana, Doboj, and Maglaja fierce encounters showed that
the spirit of the nation was still vital. A well-disciplined and
well-equipped army, however, could not fail to subdue irreg-
ular combatants, weakened by three years of constant warfare
with the Turks. Bosnia has since been quiescent, but not re-
signed.

How far Austria has won the confidence of the people she

1909.] THE FATE OF BOSNIA 519

undertook to govern, may be judged by the vast army of con-
tingents drafted into the land some weeks preceding the an-
nexation. Chronic disaffection had necessitated the mainte-
nance of well- rilled garrisons during the occupation. The sup-
pression of national feeling will be no easier to accomplish now
that the chains of absolutism are drawn tighter. Fresh difficul-
ties are in sight, and it is admitted by the authorities them-
selves that such difficulties exist. According to the Hungarian
delegate, Nemets, the state of the annexed provinces is worse
than it was under Turkey ! In vain does Austria seek to im-
press on the world that she has the adhesion of her new subjects.
The deputations appointed by the government, who went to
Vienna to thank the Emperor for " graciously extending his
sovereignty " over Bosnia and Herzegovina, were hooted on their
return and forced to quit their native villages. When the Im-
perial proclamation was read in public, sobs and groans were
heard in the remote villages, and in the larger towns the citizens
obstinately refused to decorate their houses in honor of the oc-
casion. The prisons are now full of respectable merchants, doc-
tors, advocates, and ecclesiastics suspected of high treason.
The press laws are so rigorous that, one by one, the national
organs have been stifled.

After the suppression of the journal Otatsbina (Fatherland),
the more widely-read Narod (Nation) succumbed, when the
very advertisements were struck out by the censor. It had
continued publication for a long time, even when it was forced
to appear with three blank pages out of four. There remains
the Serbska Retch (The Voice of the Serbs), whose fate will
be undoubtedly the same, although it confines itself to print-
ing extracts from Servian histories and time-honored patriotic
songs, without direct reference to the actual situation. Before
long, it is to be feared, the cause of the Bosnian Serbs will be
confined to secret societies, which inevitably crop up when
public discussion is prohibited. Austrian occupation, instead of
diminishing the national sense, has had rather the opposite ef-
fect. Already, in 1882, repressive measures were adopted to
quell the tendency towards fraternity with ether Serb lands;
and both Bosnia and Herzegovina have been treated since then
as if they were held in punishment, and not in trust for Europe.

The very fact of the annexation, at a moment when other
Serb lands were getting a form of self-government from Tur-

520 THE FATE OF BOSNIA [Jan.,

key, shows that Austria recognizes the inclination to Serb soli-
darity. Martial law was proclaimed to subdue the people, who
were represented by Austria as eager to incorporate themselves
with the Empire of Austro-Hungary ! A campaign of system-
atic calumny and intrigue had preceded the decisive step. A
"Great Servia " propaganda was invented, and traced to that
very unenviable and obscure monarch, King Peter of Servia,
who is much too insecure on his own blood-stained throne to
dream of subverting the equilibrium of others. He was a con-
venient scapegoat for Austria's "faked" conspiracies; and when
a fictitious bomb plot had successfully alienated the sister states
of Servia and Montenegro — Bulgaria had been previously es-
tranged from both by skillful fostering of rivalry — the moment
seemed favorable for open usurpation. The danger of united
Slav opposition once conjured, the pioneer of Germany's Drang
nach Osten seized the two provinces that are a powerful link in
the chain of Slav lands stretching from the Adriatic to the
Black Sea.

The foul means by which Austria attained her end will surely
bring retribution in the near future. In particular the employ-
ment of the informer, Nastitch — first known to fame as the
author of a scurrilous pamphlet, The Jesuits in Bosnia — dis-
credits Baron Rauch and his subordinates. Nastitch, after hav-
ing posed as the friend of the unfortunate Serbs exposed to
the wiles and corruptions of a designing Order, suddenly went
over to the Austrian interest and proceeded to betray the se-
crets of Serb patriots with whom he had been intimate. The
man who had sworn to free Bosnia from " the cursed thraldom
of the Vatican spies " went into the dock, and incriminated
everybody with whom he had been in contact. At Cettinge he
testified that he had participated in a plot formed in Servia
for the destruction of the Royal Family of Montenegro; and
that bombs for the purpose were manufactured in the govern-
ment arsenal at Kragujevats. At Agram he gave "authentic"
accounts of the Serbo-Croat Coalition members who had impli-
cated themselves in the " Great Servia propaganda." Their
open opposition in parliament concealed, according to Nastitch,
nefarious plans against Austrian hegemony. This whilom de-
nouncer of the " Roman Proselytizers" supported every govern-
ment indictment with the same zeal and alacrity with which,
sometime before, he had defamed everything Austrian. It was

1909.] THE FATE OF BOSNIA 521

when, through this unworthy tool, the patriots of Bosnia had
been incriminated, and the independent Serb states set at vari-
ance, that Austria resolved to transform her temporary rule to
permanent possession. The method as well as the act may be
qualified as immoral, arbitrary, and altogether unworthy of a
Great Power.

The consequences of a disastrous breach of faith are already
making themselves felt in Europe. A wave of discouragement
and mistrust has swept over the Continent. Of what avail are
conferences and arbitration when the strong hand will not
abide by a pledged word longer than it finds such a course
profitable and expedient for itself ? Rumors of Austria's im-
pending invasion of Belgrade immediately after the annexation,
obtained credence in the most unexpected quarters. There
was a hurried mustering of diplomats in Rome, London, and
St. Petersburg to discuss the most feasible manner of pre-
serving Servians threatened independence without recurring to
arms. The recognition of the little kingdom as a neutral
ground — a species of Balkan Switzerland — was at first sug-
gested ; but who can now accept Austria's guarantee that
she will respect the integrity of any state weaker than her-
self? The clearly declared stipulations of the Powers have been
set at naught; and, backed by Germany, the infringer of the
Berlin Treaty sends out a silent, sinister challenge to Europe.
Cynical disregard of past engagements and past arguments is
the most revolting feature of Baron Aehrenthal's present policy.
It was Andrassy's loud protests that hindered Russia's attempt
to conclude, by right of conquest, an independent peace with
Turkey in 1878. "The wishes of Europe and the right of the
Powers to control must be considered." Russia submitted; and
a precedent for the solution of grave international problems was
formed on the basis of mutual concessions and friendly repre-
sentations. To-day Austria repudiates any outside interference
in the affairs of Bosnia and Herzegovina. She insists, with il-
logical brazenness, that it is a matter between herself and Tur-
key. Nevertheless, her formal notification of the "extension of
her sovereignty " is an admission that the Powers do possess a
right of control over the fate of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The wily guardian of these two Serb provinces, who had so
bravely wrested their liberty from the Turks, would fare badly
if called to give an account of her stewardship. Apart from

522 THE FATE OF BOSNIA [Jan.

the veneer of prosperous civilization near the railway centers
frequented by travelers, little has been done to alleviate the
hard lot of the peasants who toil for a scanty subsistence under
the most iniquitous system of agrarian laws extant since the
abolition of Irish landlordism. The Austrian occupation, it must
be remembered, was allowed and advocated, in the first place,
for the impartial regulation of the land question. Nothing has
been done, however, during thirty years of administration, to
modify a feudalism of the most harassing nature. Serfdom had
been abolished in 1851, but the relations of the Mohammedan
overlords with the Christian population were not thereby im-
proved; and since the insurrection of 1875-78 the Spahis view
their tenants with increased disfavor. Austria, who had under-
taken the government of the provinces ostensibly for the amel-
ioration of the tillers* sad condition, has not attempted to
grapple with the haughty and greedy landowners. They still
claim a third of the land product; and a tenth of the remainder
is exacted by the state. The mode of payment is antiquated
and complicated. While the people labor under this cumbrous
and tyrannical system of land tenure, material suffering, com-
bined with political disability — not to speak of the wounded
pride attendant on repressed national aspirations — provide a
dismal outlook for the illegally confirmed regime in Bosnia.

Meantime the harmony of Europe is at stake. Servia re-
fuses to be pacified. Relying on the moral force that ever ac-
companies Right struggling against Might; encouraged by in-
terested factors eager for the first sign of disintegration in a
heterogeneous empire; the Serb race, spread over the Balkan
peninsula, awaits a pronouncement of the signatory Powers on
the outrageous violation of the Treaty of Berlin. Should it be
unfavorable to the cause of Justice — should there be neither
redress nor compensation forthcoming, in the shape of autonomy
for Bosnia, or free communication for Servia with the Adriatic
—a spark can assuredly be lit that will not fail to ignite the
long- dreaded conflagration of Europe.

ANATOLE FRANCE'S " LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC."

BY J. BRICOUT.

III.

A CARICATURE OF THE MAID.

UR previous study of the subject has put us in a
position to pass an intelligent judgment on M.
Anatole France's portrayal of Joan of Arc. He
writes :

To feel the spirit of a bygone age, to become a contemporary
of those who lived in other days, requires a long course of study,
and patient, exacting care. The difficulties to be met con-
cern not so much what is to be known, as what one must no
longer seem to know. How much we must forget if we would
really live over the fifteenth century ! Our sciences and our
methods — everything, in fact, that makes us a modern people
— must be put away. . . . Neither the historian nor the
antiquarian can make us understand the Maid's contempora-
ries. It is not because they lack knowledge ; it is because
they have it. It is because they know modern warfare, mo-
dern politics, modern religion.

But when we shall have forgotten, so far as we can, every-
thing that has happened since the youthful days of Charles
VII., we will soon find that we must make use of all our in-
tellectual resources to understand the situation, and to dis-
cover what are causes and what effects. . . . The histor-
ian must look far afield one moment and near at hand the next.
If he undertakes to tell the story of past times, he will need in
quick succession, and occasionally at one and the same mo-
ment, the ingenuousness of the crowd whom he tries to pic-
ture to the life, and critical ability of the first order. Para-
doxical as it may seem, he must be an ancient and a modern,
and live on two different planes at the same time.*

It is, indeed, quite true, as we knew ourselves, that the
historian must be an ancient and a modern at the same time,

* Vie de Jeanne d 'Arc, vol. I. pp. 75-76.

524 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " [Jan.,

since history is at once a " resurrection " and a " science of
the past." The difficulty is in seeing to it that the ancient in
him does not suffer from contact with the modern. This is
what has happened in M. Anatole France's own case. M.
France, who has been successful in the field of romance, has a
strong imagination ; and he has given it free rein in his Life
of Joan of Arc. Besides he is a free-thinker, a militant anti-
clericalist. His prejudices and his irreligious dogmatism have
stained his work, He is, in a word, a believer in the new
science of psycho- pathology, and like a fervent neophyte, be-
lieves that this new science explains the Maid of Orleans.
Consequently he is not to be taken literally in his proud de-
claration :

I have written this history with an ardent and yet calm
zeal. I have sought for truth without weakness and have
met it without fear. Even when its features were strange, I
did not turn aside. I will be charged with boldness until
somebody charges me with timidity.*

We make neither of these charges against M. Anatole
France, but we do charge him — and with reason, as will be
seen — with an insufficient detachment from himself, i. e.t from
his own ideas and personal feelings.

All through his book M. France endeavors to show that
Joan has been overrated. He cruelly ridicules the " poor Duke
d'Alenfon for saying that Joan showed great skill in assembling
and leading an army, and was, above all, expert in placing the
artillery. In the opinion of Anatole France Joan was brave,
reliable, diligent, and full of ardor. She could ride a horse,
spend long hours in the saddle, and make use of a lance, but
that was all. She was utterly ignorant of military science.
Besides " certain leaders, notably the princes of the blood-
royal, knew very little more than she. To wage war in those
days required nothing beyond ability to ride. . . . The
military art was reduced to a few tricks such as any farmer
might devise, and a few rules of horsemanship."! As a mat-
ter of fact, Joan's only contribution to the success of Charles
VII. 's armies lay in the confidence with which she inspired
them.

"Vol. I. p. 81. f Vol. I., p. 47.

1909.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " 525

When she announced that she had had a revelation from
the Archangel Michael with reference to the war, she filled
the Armagnac soldiers and the people of Orleans with as much
confidence as an engineer of the Republic would have inspired
in the Loire militia in the winter of 1871 by inventing smoke-
less powder or an improved style of cannon. What people
looked for from science in 1871, was expected from religion in
1428.*

To tell the truth, Joan's military talent is of slight concern
to us, for she will not be placed on our altars because of skill
in war. Still we cannot help noticing that M. France settles
the question somewhat too summarily. We will grant readily
enough that certain witnesses in the rehabilitation trial, spoke
about Joan's military qualifications without knowing anything
about them, and apparently according to instructions. But M.
France exaggerates when he tells us that the military science
of the fifteenth century was worthless and null. Man of the
twentieth century though he be, and member of the Academy,
he stands in a rather ridiculous light when he makes bold in
this matter, not only to contradict the soldiers of the past, who
were in a better position than he to judge of Joan's achieve-
ments, but also to set himself against officers of our own times,
who have proclaimed her genius as a tactician, after a con-
scientious study of her campaigns. Again, according to M.
France, it was not hard for Joan to vanquish the English:

Their ridiculously small garrisons were prisoners in the
conquered country. They lacked means both to take new
provinces and to pacify those they held. . . . What is
astonishing is not that the English were driven out of France,
but that they were driven out so slowly.

Assuredly "Joan rendered a two- fold service to the royal
cause, which was the national cause as well. She inspired
confidence in Charles VII. 's soldiers, who thought her lucky;
and fear in the English, who imagined that she was the devil."
But "the misfortunes of the English, from 1428 on, may be
explained very naturally"; and "it was not Joan who drove
the English out of France. If she helped to save Orleans,
she rather retarded its deliverance, by neglecting the oppor-

*Vol. I., p. 41.

526 , ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " [Jan.,

tunity to recover Normandy, for the sake of the Consecration
march.1' •

These, it must be admitted, are not common-place asser-
tions, but on what do they rest? In complicated questions
one can always conjure up something to justify one's opinions.
But I say again that Joan's contemporaries and even present-
day experts, who are more competent to decide in these matters
than M. France, were and are of a decidedly different opinion.
Is it not most reasonable to trust them in preference to him?
If one reflects, for example, on the great importance people
then attached to the consecration of the king, one will easily
do justice to M. France's enigmatical assertion about that
march. It is not enough to hit hard; one must, above all, hit
fairly.

Another opinion held by M. France is that Joan's courage
has also been overrated. She showed herself a very weak
woman during the last few days of her life, and on several
occasions retracted previous assertions, in the hope of satisfy-
ing her judges and escaping death. In this connection it will
be well to recall what was said in our second article about the
historical value of the condemnation trial records and the Post-
humous Postscript,!

But even if these texts be reliable, it does not follow that
Joan was so seriously weak. Catholic historians who take her
expression about Beaurevoir literally, and who admit what
these documents say about the sign given to the king, justify
or excuse her easily enough, as we saw before. They also en-
deavor, if not to exculpate her altogether, to show at least that
she was not gravely culpable, even if she made the two-fold
retractation as it is described in the record of the first trial
and in the Postscript. Petit de Julleville writes as follows :

There before the grim pile ready to leap into flame, before
the half-hostile, half-friendly crowd which cried to her, in
wrath and in pity, to make the abjuration, exhausted at last
and almost annihilated by her long imprisonment, by chains,
by injuries, by threats, by violence, by sickness, by the
agony of thirty cross-examinations, by the consuming weari-
ness of a trial that lasted 114 days, this nineteen-year-old

* Vol. I., pp. 49-51 passim.
fTHE CATHOLIC WORLD, December, 1908, p. 351.

1909.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC ' 527

girl gave way to fear. I^et the shame of it fall on her judges
and executioners.*

Further on he writes:

In opposition to many historians, t I believe that this offi-
cial report is trustworthy. I think I see in it Joan's lan-
guage and sentiments. After an hour of weakness, she re-
gained her self-control, and then voluntarily took back a re-
tractation which had been snatched from her by surprise and
violence. |

He writes again :

All the witnesses of the last hour that she spent in the
prison were her enemies. At any rate they were the judges
who had condemned her, and one may, therefore, justly in-
cline to the belief that they had an interest in making it ap-
pear that she had been somewhat weak. Now what are we
to think about the statement they all say she made to them
on that last morning : " My voices have deceived me " ?

Such an avowal seems at variance with her steadfastness
at the stake. That she was firm then is admitted by all who
were present at her execution. They all admired the heroism
of which she then gave proof. Because of these facts, those
who testified to her weakness in prison, have often been
charged with perjury. The probability is that they simply
erred by exaggerating the meaning of a concession she made
to them. The account given by Jean Toutmouille, the Do-
minican, may set us on the right track. According to him,
Cauchon had said to Joan : " Come now, Joan, you have
always told us that your 4 voices ' said you would be set free.
You see how they have deceived you. Own up, then, to the
truth." Then Joan answered : ** Yes ; / see clearly that they
have deceived me." Supposing these words to be authentic,
we ask what is their true meaning. She did not mean to say :
" Those * voices ' are not from God." A few moments more,
and she will die affirming that they are from God. What she

* LA Venerable Jeanne d'Arc, p. 151.

t The point in question here is what the Posthumous Postscript says about the prisoner's
resumption of male attire. Petit de Julleville does not deny the statement that a snare was
laid to ruin her, but he believes that " she fell into it deliberately, preferring to die rather than
continue in her abjuration." Op. cit., p. 155.

\ Op. cit., p. 148. M. France (Vol. II. pp. 377, 379) does not admit the truth of what
Massieu and others said in the rehabilitation trial about the insults offered to Joan in prison.
However, he blames the English for leaving Joan her male clothing to tempt her, and the
judges for sentencing her to prison when they were well aware that they could not put her in
any ecclesiastical prison.

528 , ANATOLE FRANCE'S "JOAN OP ARC " f Jan.,

meant to say is this: " I did not understand them. I thought
that they promised me safety, and now I see I am going to
die." Cauchon insisted : " Then were those ' voices ' good or
bad?" "I leave that to Mother Church," she said. (Ac-
cording to another version her answer was : " I leave that to
you churchmen.") No ; she did not disavow her mission.
She was simply weary of arguing, and since her last hour
was so near, she wanted to think of God alone, and let men
believe what they would about her.

She ardently desired to receive Holy Communion before
going to her death. To get this favor from her judges — a
lavor which was denied on principle to unrepentant relapsed
— she had to bend them by a phrase which they could inter-
pret, strictly speaking, as a last concession.*

An hour of weakness. . . . A last concession. Yes ; that
can be considered a merely venial fault. The solution offered
by Joan's latest Catholic biographers, however, is much more
pointed and radical, The records of the condemnation trial
and the Posthumous Postscript are justly open to suspicion in
connection with her attempt to escape from Beaurevoir, her an-
swers to inquiries concerning the "sign" given to the king,
and her last days.

The formula of abjuration which Joan pronounced and rati-
fied at the cemetery of Saint Ouen "was the exact opposite
of an abjuration in matters of faith. It did not imply an oath.
It did not contain anything unlawful. All that Joan renounced
in it was the wearing of men's clothes, the carrying of arms,
and the wearing of her hair clipped. The other articles were an
unqualified act of submission to the Universal Church, and a
conditional act of submission to the Rouen tribunal: * pro-
vided it be pleasing to God.' These were acts for which the
servant of God deserved praise, not blame." If she dressed
again as a man a few days later, in spite of her promise, it
was out of necessity and for the preservation of her virtue.
Let the responsibility for that fall on the Bishop of Beauvais,
" who, after publicly agreeing to put her in an ecclesiastical
prison and to give her a woman companion, shamelessly broke
his promise."

Finally, the Posthumous Postscript is unworthy of credence.
1 The charges formulated in this document are as unfounded

* o/. «v., pp. 160-162.

1909.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC" 529

as the hateful epithets applied to the servant of God in the
abjuration formula forged by the Bishop of Beauvais."*

Both of these solutions advanced by Catholic authors give,
as will be seen, a very different impression of Joan from that
which M. France's work leaves in his reader's minds. Despite
his assertions, Joan has not been overrated. His feverish at-
tempts to disparage, to misrepresent, and to disfigure her, are
all in vain. She still stands worthy of gratitude and admiration.

What does M. Anatole France really think of Joan ? In
his judgment she is simply the victim of hallucinations — on a
higher plane than others of her class, if one may so speak —
but for all that she is the plaything of a diseased imagination,
not at intervals only, but habitually. This last phrase falls
from his pen every minute,! and one may be sure that there
is a very definite purpose underlying its frequent use.

Even after the pontifical decree of 1904 had proclaimed that
Joan's virtues were of heroic cast, a Catholic could still admit $
that she sometimes deceived herself about the nature or the
interpretation of her "voices" and their revelations. That
would not be so very abnormal, nor would it be incompatible
with sanctity. M. France notes, with marked satisfaction, that
Joan was deceived by her "voices" and that she frequently
admitted the fact herself. He writes :

While the trial lasted, trusting her " voices," she counted
on being set free. She did not know how nor when her de-
liverance would be effected, but she was just as sure of it as
of our ford's presence in the Holy Kucharist. . . .

Full of confidence, she waited for the angels and saints to
accomplish their promises by coming to set her free. She did
not know how nor when her rescue would be brought about,
but she had no doubt it would be accomplished. To doubt
that would be to doubt Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, and
our lyord ; that would mean her " voices " were evil. Her
"voices " had told her not to fear, and she did not. . . I

" Now, see here, Joan," said the Lord Bishop of Beauvais
to her, ' ' you have always told us that your * voices ' prom-
ised you your freedom. You see now how they have de-

* Dunand, L'Hlroicite des Vertus de Jeanne d 'Are et la Revision de son Histoiret cf% Revue
du Clergt Frangais, April 15, 1904.

tTo give only one example : " Her perpetual hallucinations very often rendered her in-
capable of distinguishing between truth aud falsehood, Vol. I., p. 3.

JSee THE CATHOLIC WORLD, November, 1908, p. 247.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 34

530 . ANATOLE FRANCE'S tl JOAN OF ARC" [Jan.,

ceived you. Come, now, tell us the truth." She answered :
"Yes; I see clearly that they have deceived me. . . ."
" Do you still believe in }Tour ' voices' ? " "I believe only in
God, and I no longer put willing faith in those ' voices ' which
have deceived me in this way." *

It is very probable and almost certain that these words do
not give us a faithful account of Joan's thoughts. But even
if Joan did believe that she had made a mistake in thinking
that her " voices" spoke to her about her "deliverance"; even
if she had misinterpreted the "deliverance" of which they
spoke ; even if she had been led consequently, by the turn of
events, to realize that she had deceived herself, we would have
no right to charge her with having doubted her mission.
Neither might we say that she was conscious during certain
lucid intervals, of being ordinarily a victim of hallucinations, f
We may remark that a person may make a mistake about one
point of an accidental character, without being always deceived
about what is essential.

Whatever may be thought about this particular case, it is
quite certain that Joan was not the complete and hopeless
slave of hallucinations that M. France made her out. He
asserts:

The chief conclusion drawn from the documents is that she
was a saint. She was a saint endowed with all the attributes
of sanctity as it was conceived by the fifteenth century. \
She had visions. They were neither shams nor counterfeits.
She believed that she really heard voices speaking to her —
and that they did not come from human lips. . . .

Is not that the same as saying that she had hallucinations
of sight, of hearing, of touch, and of smell? §

M. France faces the question as to the objective character
of Joan's visions and voices. Joan believed they were real.
Therefore, she was the victim of a delusion, No other expla-
nation is possible; none other is to besought. If one were to

*Vol. II., pp. 231, 254, 385, 387.

t This does not fit in very well with M. France's theory about the Maid's " perpetual hallu-
cinations."

*M. France is very fond of the idea that he expresses in this phrase. He dwell* on it
frequently. On page 38 of his first volume he writes as follows : " Unfortunately the idea of
sanctity has greatly degenerated in the Church since the Council of Trent, and orthodox his-
torians are very little inclined to acquaint themselves with the vagaries of the Catholic Church
in past ages." $Vol. I., pp. 32-33.

1909.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " 531

say to him: May there not be, after all, a world of spirits su-
perior to man who occasionally enter into communication with
us?" he would answer: "Nonsense." Yet what proof is there
to back up such stout denial? What is it that proves so con-
clusively that Joan was deluded ?

The first "proof" offered by M. France is an observation,
suggested to him, he tells us, " by a study of the documentary
evidence," and one which seems to him " of infinite impor-
tance " :

The visionaries who believe themselves invested with a
divine mission are marked off from the rest by singular char-
acteristics. When a man studies these mystics, and com-
pares them one with another, he will see that they all present
certain features of resemblance which can be followed down
to very minute details, all of which find expression in various
words and acts. When he recognizes the strict determinism
which governs the movements of these visionaries, he is like-
ly to feel surprise at the fatal uniformity with which the
human machine responds to the action of one and the same
mysterious agent. Joan belonged to this religious group,
and it is an interesting study to compare her in this connec-
tion with Saint Catherine of Siena, Saint Colette of Corbie,
Yves Nicolazie, the peasant of Kernanna, Suzette Labrousse,
the prophetess of the Constitutional Church, and so many
other seers and seeresses of this class, who all wear a family
resemblance. Three visionaries in particular are closely re-
lated to Joan, The first was a serf of Champagne, whose
mission was to speak to King John . . . ; the second was
a blacksmith of Salon . . . ; the third, a peasant from
Gallardon, by the name of Martin. Despite the difference of
sex, there are very intimate and profound resemblances be-
tween these three men and Joan of Arc. The similarity is
one of nature even, and the differences which seem at first
sight to put a wide gap between her and them, are of the
esthetic, Asocial, and historical order, and are, consequently,
external and contingent. To be sure there is a contrast be-
tween them in appearance and fortune. They were as ill-
favored as she was charming ; they have been left in oblivion
while she has gained in strength and has flourished in legend •
The scientific mind, however, detects the qualities held in
common by the fairest specimens and the veriest abortions of
the same species and thus attests the identity of their origin.*

» Vol. I., pp. 35-37.

532 ' ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " [Jan.,

Joan then was a victim of hallucinations because she bears
"a family resemblance" to certain persons who, according to
M. France, are commonly recognized as visionaries. This rea-
soning is not conclusive. A fool, who labors under delusions
and thinks he has been sent by God to save his country, may
resemble in many points a sound-minded man who has real
visions and has really received a commission from God to de-
liver his people. The " nature even " of their preoccupations
might create between them "intimate and profound resem-
blances.'1 It does not follow from this that they were equally
inspired by God, or were equally foolish. Christianity and the
fetichism of savages resemble each other, and in certain im-
portant details, as, for example, in calling on their God for
help, but no one can rightly infer from this fact that both are
divinely revealed, or that both are human inventions. For the
same reason, the resemblances pointed out by M. France fail
to justify the conclusion he draws from them.

A second argument advanced by M. France is that there
were swarms of visionaries in Joan's days, and it is no more
than just to rank her among them.

Together with interminable wars, misery and ignorance
had reduced mankind to mental poverty and extreme moral
indigence. . . .

At this crisis many holy women appeared in the little army
of the L,oire. They led a singular life, like Joan, and were in
touch with the Church Triumphant. They were, so to speak,
a flying column of Beguines who followed the army. . . .
They all had wonderful visions. Joan saw Saint Michael in
arms and Saints Catherine and Margaret carrying crowns.
L,a Pierronne saw God clothed to His feet in a white robe
with a beautiful red toque. Catherine of L,a Rochelle saw a
white lady dressed in gold cloth.*

Yes, troubled times and seasons of misery often beget folly.
History tells us that. But, again, this fact, and this by itself
alone, does not prove that Joan also was a visionary and a vic-
tim of delusions, the complete and perpetual slave of halluci-
nations, as she has been described.

The two reasons brought forward by M. France are very
weak. They have no weight except with the superficial and

*Vol. I., p. 21 ; Vol. II., p. 96.

1909.] ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC" 533

inreflecting, or with those who, like M. France himself, reject
ie supernatural and deny the possibility or the reality of a
livine intervention in human affairs. When a man denies
priori the supernatural, he must extricate himself from diffi-
culties as best he can and adopt the only solution left. At
bottom M. France's argument comes to this : Joan is a victim
of hallucinations because she cannot be anything else, since
there is nothing supernatural. We who believe in the super-
natural make bold to declare his reasoning defective and radi-
cally false.

We do not admit the fact of a concrete miracle without
duly established proofs, nor do we think ourselves authorized
to reject duly established proofs, because they force the con-
clusion that a miracle has been wrought.

On what side must the truly scientific spirit range itself ?
M. France has offered only bad reasons in support of his denial.
What good reasons have we to offer in support of our affirma-
tion ?

Joan was ignorant, but no trace of superstition can be found
in her. " Quite near Domremy," she said, in answer to her
judges, "there is a tree called the Ladies1 tree, or the tree of
the fairies. I have heard it said that people suffering from
fever drink the water there to be cured. I have myself seen
them drinking there, but I do not know whether they were
cured or not. I have frequently heard old people, who were
not of my family, say that the fairies haunt that spot. A wo-
man named Joan, my godmother, and wife of Mayor Aubery,
even said that she had seen the fairies. I do not know if that
were so, but I have never seen them myself." Joan it would
seem was not over-credulous, nor excessively impressionable.

Nor was there any trace of religious or patriotic ecstasy in
her when she received the revelation of her " voices " for the
first time, at thirteen years of age. Her piety was normal and
reasonable ; her love of country well-balanced. On this last
point Petit de Julleville writes with great good sense :

The trouble that the war brought on her in childhood has
sometimes been exaggerated.* How many provinces there
were that had to suffer more grievous afflictions than the
Marche of Lorraine. Relatively speaking, it fared well.

* M. France has made this mistake.

5 34 ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " [Jan,,

The sum of its troubles amounted to unbloody alarms, the
menaces of marauding bands, and hurried flights with the
threatened live stock. Before she went to war, Joan very
probably never saw French blood flow except what was spilled
when the small boys of Domremy had stone-throwing battles
with the "Burgundians " of Maxey. The first "voices"
that spoke to her during the summer of 1425, took her by sur-
prise and waked her, as it were, out of the perfect calm of her
maiden heart. These "voices " slowly created the passionate
patriotism she manifested three years later. Her patriotism
did not antedate, nor did it beget them. We notice also that
her " voices " did not tell her all at once about her mission.
For quite a while they simply gave her pious advice. Then,
as she advanced in years and reasoning power, that mission
was revealed, little by little. At first she rejected it with
mental agony ; then she accepted it ; and at last she wel-
comed it with passionate ardor. This onward march and
progress of events should be carefully borne in mind. No
matter how you explain it, you see that this mysterious inter-
vention slowly shaped Joan's soul and will. Many seem to
have believed — without proof and against the evidence — that
Joan sought, instigated, and almost necessitated this mysteri-
ous intervention, by her solitary and personal ecstasies. The
truth is quite the contrary. The first time she heard the
1 ' voice ' ' she ' * was frightened . ' ' That phrase tells us how far
she was from expecting or summoning it — how far she was,
so to speak, from giving either ear or heart to the miracle.*

Everything in her childhood and girlhood indicates physical
and mental health. She was not a virago ; but she was a
strong country girl, a peasant, well-built, robust, and able to
bear hardship. Her life furnishes abundant evidences of good-
humor, of roguish simplicity, and of unaffected candor, touched
with shrewdness and irony. Her presence of mind, during the
trial, was truly marvelous. There she sat face to face with
fifty solemn, subtle, crafty, treacherous, unfriendly doctors, with
no one to advise her, and worn out by a long and hard im-
prisonment. Even her enemies admired her self-possession, her
good sense, her candor, and her directness in dealing with the
points at issue.

Her moral temperament was also well-balanced. All vir-

* Op. cit.t pp. 12-13. In our first article, THE CATHOLIC WORLD, November, 1908, pp.
239-242, we have shown that M. France's attempt to attribute Joan's vocation to cleverly con-
coaled ecclesiastical influences is a pure hypothesis, unsupported by a single solid proof.

1909.] AN ATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC" 535

tues met in her heart. She was pious, good, pure, brave and
humble, in an heroic degree.

Let M. France name a single visionary or victim of delu-
sions, whose vocation was begotten like hers, or who was as
well equipped as she intellectually and morally. Certain fana-
tics, it is true, have asserted that Jesus himself was a fool.*
At that reckoning our dictionaries must be changed completely,
and it must be decreed that henceforth we will call folly what
we have hitherto known as wisdom, inspiration, or genius. That
is the height of unreason. Let M. France mention a single
visionary who has done what Joan of Arc did. L'Abbe Coube
mentions in this connection an infidel doctor who once said to
a friend: "Come to La Salpetriere,f and I will show you fifty
Joans of Arc." " That is too many," answered his friend,
"show me just one who can give us back Alsace and Lorraine,
and I will no longer see anything supernatural in the Libera-
trix of Orleans." t I do not say that the comparison is wholly
just. I am quite convinced that it would be more difficult to
give us back Alsace and Lorraine, than it was to drive the
English out of France. Still it remains true that no visionary
ever played a part to be compared with that of Joan.

M. France's answer to this is that her work has been ex-
aggerated, but we have seen that M. France does not prove his
statement. He also says that Joan was a visionary of a higher
order; but we have a right to tell him that a superior vision-
ary of this kind is no visionary at all. If he were to reply
that no visionary was ever placed in such circumstances, we
could show him that many of them lived amid surroundings
that were equally, if not even more, favorable, and yet they
did not achieve like results. It is decidedly true that a man
may be a good novelist, and only an indifferent historian or
scholar.

Doctor George Dumas, professor of the Sorbonne, a man
particularly well-informed in psycho- pathology, and little sus-
pected of clericalism, is much more reserved than M. France in
a letter written to the latter and published by him in the ap-
pendix to his second volume. We will analyze this letter care-
fully. M. Dumas begins by declaring that a physician of our

* As, for example, Dr. Binet-Sangle', author of La Folie de Jesus (Paris, 1908).

t An almshouse and asylum for insane women in Paris.

f S. Coub^, Le Coeut de Jeanne d'Arc, p. 32 (Lethielleux, Paris, 10, rue Cassette).

536 ANATOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC" [Jan.,

days can hardly pass a judgment on Joan's case, since the re-
ports of the trial do not furnish sufficient information about
her nervous condition.

Jean d'Aulon, he continues, testified, on the word of several
women, that Joan would never have been fully developed.
That indicates an insufficient physical growth such as we meet
in many neuropathic patients. It is also likely enough that
Joan's sight delusions were one-sided. Still these facts, even if
they were well-established, " would not justify definite conclu-
sions." The same must be said about the " distinctness " and
"certainty" of her hallucinations. None of these facts afford
sure proof that Joan was hysterical. On the other hand, she
is marked off' from the classical examples of hysteria by several
important characteristics: she resists her "voices" and she
makes them come at her will when they do not come of them-
selves. Dr. Dumas concludes:

This characteristic enables us, if Joan were hysterical^ to
point out the part that her nerve ailment might play in the
development of her character, and in her life.

If hysteria had any part in her, it was only to let the most
secret sentiments of her heart become objective in the shape
of visions and heavenly voices ; it was the open door through
which the divine — or what Joan took to be divine — entered
into her life ; it strengthened her faith ; it consecrated her
mission ; but Joarf s intelligence and will remained sound and
right. Nervous pathology hardly throws even a feeble light
on that soul.

Why did not M. France pay more attention to the judgment
of the master he had consulted ? If Joan were hysterical . . .
If hysteria had any part in her . . . Joan's intelligence and
will remained sound and right ; these are phrases to be remem-
bered. M. Dumas doubtless does not believe in the objective
character of Joan's " voices " ; he even speaks of her hallucina-
tions as of an undisputed fact. Still it counts for something
that he does not make the Maid a hysterical creature, an au-
tomaton, a plaything and victim of continuous delusions. M.
France should have held to this minimum, at the very least.

Why has he not done so ? Because M. France does not
trust the masters in psycho-pathology any more than the mas-
ters in the art of war, when their opinions upset his system.

1909.] ANA TOLE FRANCE'S " JOAN OF ARC " 537

All that remains for us to do, is to sum up our conclu-
sions. M. France has aimed at doing for Joan of Arc what
Renan did for our Lord almost half a century ago. They both
have sought to explain, without the supernatural, lives and per-
sonalities which were wholly or almost wholly supernatural.
Like his master, M. France has failed in his sacrilegious at-
tempt. His Life ef Joan of Arc has literary merit and some
parts of it are useful. As a whole, however, it is a defective
work, with no great historical or scientific value. It will not
be an indispensable or authoritative book, as incompetent critics
or flatterers have thoughtlessly declared. Its success will not
endure.

Joan of Arc is still for us the heroic girl we have always
admired ; the saint that the Church is making ready to place
on her altars. When I speak of our admiration, I do not mean
French Catholics alone. Joan of Arc has been praised, hon-
ored, and defended by Catholics the whole world over, of every
race and nationality.* Better yet, have we not heard, even
lately, Protestants and free-thinkers of every shade of belief,
from the New World as well as from the Old, expressing their
deep sympathy for her whom M. France tries to belittle ?

M. France labors in vain. In the life and character of Joan
of Arc there is something singularly touching, dramatic, and
truly marvelous. She stands before us, a young peasant girl,
simple, good, sensible, who, out of obedience to the call of
God, leaves her village and her family, convinces the most pru-
dent, fills the conquered with courage, defeats her enemies, has
her king anointed, is then made a prisoner, and after an unjust
trial dies at the stake in her nineteenth year, meriting the title,
"Saint of Patriotism." What more beautiful or more touching
can be imagined ?

In truth we should weep for those who, out of hatred for
God and the Church, vainly try to lessen her glory and to
tarnish her sanctity.

* Archbishop Ireland's magnificent discourse on Joan, delivered at Orleans in May,
1899, is still well remembered in France. Cf. La Revue du Clerge" Fran fats, June i, 1899.

(THE END.)

flew Books.

A person unacquainted with Mr.

ORTHODOXY. Chesterton's characteristics — if

since the publication of Heretics

there is to be found any such person among those who read
English — would probably meet with the literary surprise of
his life, when, after reading the plain, simple introduction, he
would proceed to peruse the pages of Orthodoxy * and find
himself at once dazzled, perplexed, delighted by this blaze of
wit, paradox, epigram, sarcasm, Johnsonian common sense,
original ways of looking at things which everybody knows,
deep philosophic argument served out in terms of the most
commonplace thought, and some of the great truths of reli-
gion tested effectively and favorably by inspecting them up-
side down. The book, Mr. Chesterton informs us, is meant to
be a companion to Heretics, in which he attacked some of the
current philosophies. Some champions of these challenged Mr.
Chesterton to give his own philosophy of religion ; and, in re-
sponse, the iconoclast turns constructor and presents his reasons
for believing in Christianity as it is embodied in the Apostles'
Creed. As a specimen of apologetics Orthodoxy stands alone,
with nothing approaching to it, from Justin and Tertullian to
Newman and Hettinger. The gist of Mr. Chesterton's argu-
ment is that life and religion are too large to be put into the
narrow logical categories of philosophical systems that view
them through one narrow lens ; the paradoxes of life are made
intelligible by the paradoxes of Christianity; while materialism
and agnosticism are the suicide of thought.

The whole secret of mysticism is this : that man can un-
derstand everything by the help of what he does not under-
stand. The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid,
and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic
allows one thing to be mysterious, and everything else be-
comes lucid. The determinist makes the theory of causation
quite clear, and then finds that he cannot say <l it you please "
to the housemaid. The Christian permits free will to remain
a sacred mystery ; but because of this his relations with the
housemaid become of a sparkling and crystal clearness. He
puts the seed of dogma in a central darkness ; but it branches
forth in all directions with abounding natural health.

* Orthodoxy. By Gilbert K. Chesterton. New York : John Lane Company.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 539

The same idea is presented in another way :

That transcendentalism by which all men live has pri-
marily the position of the sun in the sky. We are conscious
of it as of a kind of splendid confusion ; it is something both
shining and shapeless, at once a blaze and a blur. But the
circle of the moon is clear and unmistakable, as recurrent and
inevitable as the circle of Euclid on a blackboard. For the
moon is utterly reasonable ; and the moon is the mother of
lunatics, and has given to them all her name.

The following passage is the one that approaches nearest
to summing up the trend of Mr. Chesterton's march :

This is the thrilling romance of Orthodoxy. People have
fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of Orthodoxy as some-
thing heavy, humdrum, safe. There never was anything so
perilous or so exciting as Orthodoxy. It was sanity ; and to
be sane is more dramatic than to be mad. It was the equi-
librium of a man behind madly rushing horses, seeming to
stop this way, and to sway that, yet in every attitude having
the grace of statuary and the accuracy of arithmetic. The
Church in its early days went fierce and fast with any war-
horse.; yet it is utterly unhistoric to say that she merely went
mad along one idea. She swerved to left and right, so ex-
actly as to avoid enormous obstacles. She left on one side
the huge bulk of Arianism, buttressed by all worldly powers
to make Christianity too worldly. The next instant she was
swerving to avoid an orientalism, which would have made it
too unworldly. The orthodox Church never took the tame
course or accepted the conventions ; the orthodox Church
was never respectable. It would have been easier to have
accepted the earthly power of the Arians. It would have
been easy, in the Calvinistic seventeenth century, to fall into
the bottomless pit of predestination. It is easy to be a mad-
man ; it is easy to be a heretic. It is always easy to let the
age have its head ; the difficult thing is to keep one's own.
It is always easy to be a modernist ; as it is easy to be a snob.
To have fallen into any of these open traps of error and ex-
aggeration, which fashion after fashion and sect after sect
have set along the historic path of Christendom — that would,
indeed, have been simple. But to have avoided them all has
been one whirling adventure ; and in my vision the heavenly
chariot flies thundering through the ages, the dull heresies
sprawling and prostrate, the wild truth reeling but erect.

540 NEW BOOKS [Jan.,

H
Brilliantly clever and true to the facts is Mr. Chesterton's

account of how the great agnostics, the guides of his youth,
succeeded in arousing in his mind doubts about agnosticism.
He was informed that Christianity was not only vicious but
had an astonishing talent for combining in itself the most con-
trary vices. It was attacked for quite contradictory reasons:

No sooner had one rationalist demonstrated that it was too
far to the east than another demonstrated with equal clear-
ness that it was much too far to the west. No sooner had my
indignation died down at its aggressive squareness than I was
called upon again to notice and condemn its enervating and
sensual roundness.

He was told that with its doctrine of the other cheek
Christianity was an attempt to make a man too like a sheep.
But:

I turned the next page in my agnostic manual, and my brain
turned upside down. Now I found that I was to hate Chris-
tianity, not for fighting too little, but for fighting too much.
Christianity, it seemed, was the mother of wars. Christianity
had deluged the world with blood. I had got thoroughly
angry with the Christian because he was never angry. And
now I was told to be angry with him because his anger had
been the most huge and horrible thing in human history ; be-
cause his anger had soaked the earth and smoked to the sun.
The very people who reproached Christianity with the meek-
ness and non-resistance of the monasteries were the very peo-
ple who reproached it also with the violence and valor of the
Crusades. It was the fault of poor old Christianity (somehow
or other) that Edward the Confessor did not fight and that
Richard Cceur de Lion did.

Elsewhere, again, the agnostic is neatly castigated.

The ordinary agnostic has got his facts all wrong. He is a
non-believer for a multitude of reasons ; but they are untrue
reasons. He doubts, because the Middle Ages were barbaric,
but they weren't ; because Darwinism is demonstrated, but it
isn't ; because miracles do not happen, but they do ; because
monks were lazy, but they were very industrious; because
nuns were unhappy, but they are particularly cheerful ; be-
cause Christian art was sad and pale, but it was picked out
in peculiarly bright colors and gay with gold; because

i 909-] NEW BOOKS 541

modern science is moving away from the supernatural, but it
isn't, it is moving towards the supernatural with the rapidity
of a railway train.

Scarcely a page but invites quotation. Enough, however,
has been given to convey a definite idea of Mr. Chester-
ton's line of apologetics, in which many a weighty philosophic
or historical argument is couched in witty metaphor or whim-
sical illustration ; and whose richness of thought, if diluted
with a sufficient infusion of syllogism, would furnish forth
more than one respectable volume. Here Mr. Chesterton pro-
fesses only to champion Christianity, as it is common to all
believers ; but he promises that, if challenged to do so, he will
write another to prove where the principle of authority, indis-
pensable to Christianity, is lodged. We trust some opponent
will, therefore, strike Mr. Chesterton's shield fair in the center.

Most joyously must all lovers of

FRANCIS THOMPSON'S high poetry — and all lovers of
POEMS. vital Catholicity — welcome this new

edition of the poems of Francis

Thompson.* For him, as for many another, has death wrought
what life seemed powerless to consummate : and the bereaved
world has at least this grace — to recognize and in measure to
gauge its deep bereavement ! Yet through all the later years
of that singularly tragic life, it was Thompson's solace to have
the appreciation of the few who really mattered. " He had,"
says the introductory note to this present volume, " what poets
of old, to their great sorrow, lacked ; he had trial by his peers ;
a kind fate gave him fellow- poets among his reviewers."

And not less, a kind fate gave him rare friends. Very meet
and right it seems that from the hand of Wilfred Meynell — who
long ago gave the young genius his first opportunity to live
and to shine — should come now this selection from his finished
work. There is nothing in the little collection with which we
could willingly dispense ; there are even additions (notably from
Thompson's final volume) which \ we should right gladly welcome
to the number. For beside " Love in Dian's Lap," " The Hound
of Heaven," selections from the " Odes " and from " Sister
Songs," might no place have been found for that exquisite

* Selected Poems of Francis Thompson. London : Methuen & Co., Burns & Oates.

542 NEW BOOKS [Jan.,

" dramatic sequence," " A Narrow Vessel," or for the poignant
and heart-subduing poems of the "Ultima"? And can even
the beauty of "Any Saint" reconcile us to the omission of that
most Thompsonian production, "The Dread of Height"? Mr.
Meynell will know that even so must the poet's lovers clamor
for what is not — still cherishing supremely all that he has given
them. The original volumes of Thompson are, for practical
purposes, out of print, so that old readers — and numberless new
ones, let us confidently hope ! — must flock gratefully to the
present selection. They will find it worthy of its sponsor.
And the portrait of Francis Thompson in youth, together with
a little intimate yet reticent biographical note, will not fail to
add their own interest to the precious volume.

In his course of lectures, delivered

THE AMERICAN AS HE IS. before the University of Copen-
hagen last September, which have

just been published,* the President of Columbia University
presented a highly favorable sketch of America and Americans.
His patriotism did not quite hinder him trom an occasional
admission that the typical American betrays some slight im-
perfections of character, and that the prevailing conditions of
life, political, commercial, and social, are not absolutely Uto-
pian, Probably before an American audience President Butler
would have found more subjects for unfavorable comment.
But his good taste and loyalty rightly restrained him from air-
ing family grievances before strangers. And the foreign gen-
tlemen who, after a hasty sojourn here, during which they
catch a glimpse of some of the superficial characteristics of the
people, undertake to enlighten the world upon everything
American, may be trusted to publish our shortcomings. The
first lecture sketches the American political idea — a govern-
ment of principles, not men. The substantial unity of view
regarding this principle, President Butler affirms, brought the
United States into existence, and, persisting in undiminished
strength to the present day, is the controlling and unifying
fact in American life. Other forces have contributed to the
unification of the heterogenous masses which immigration has
poured into the national crucible — the gradual march west-

» The American as He Is. By Nicholas Murray Butler. New York : The Macmillan
Company.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 543

wards from the older States, the influence of many voluntary
organizations which are national in scope, and of the great
political parties :

Members of a given party organization are drawn closely
together, no matter how far apart their homes may be. A
prominent Democrat of Texas is a welcome guest of his fel-
low-partisans in New York or Massachusetts, and a distin-
guished Republican from Maine is greeted as an old and
valued friend by the Republicans of Illinois or California.

Another unifying force is the newspaper press which, says
Dr. Butler, is a powerful factor in the development of a national
consciousness. He deplores the existence of yellow journalism,
but warns his audience not to judge the American press by
its worst examples. Finally, the Doctor brings out one feature
of our political system which is unheard of in Europe — the pre-
cedence of the judiciary over the legislature:

Most completely of all the organs of government the courts
represent the settled habits of thinking of the American
people. A President may be, and at times is, powerfully in-
fluenced by the passions and clamor of the moment. The
federal courts are much less likely to be so influenced. The
Congress may be stampeded by a popular outcry into passing
some crude or unjust act. The Federal courts are there in all
their majesty, to decide whether the popular outcry has asked
for and obtained something which runs counter to the consti-
tutional guarantees of civil liberty, and to the division of
powers between nation and States. If so the popular clamor
cannot have what it thinks it wants. To override the Con-
stitution would be revolution.

The second lecture treats the American apart from his
government, and, analyzing the national character, presents the
main characteristics of the type. If you would view this char-
acter aright, the lecturer warns his hearers, do not confine
yourselves to New York and Boston :

The American type is seen at its purest and best in any
one ot the hundred or more small cities and towns of the
Middle West. If one were to select a restricted area in which
to study American life and American characteristics, he
would do best to choose Northern Illinois and the adjacent

544 NE™ BOOKS [Jan.,

parts of Iowa, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. Here the soil is
rich, the settlements are old enough to have an aspect of com-
fort and order, the population is well-to-do — they read the
best books, and take the best magazines, reviews, and weekly
journals . . . there is little vice and less crime.

On the other hand, however, Dr. Butler, after reminding
us that the literary pre-eminence of Boston is a mere tradi-
tion, crowns New York as the intellectual and social capital
of the country. He has a word of regret for the absence of
any supremely good American contributions to first-class liter-
ature :

The richest and most elegant modern prose is that of the
French academicians and of English scholars, trained under
the classical traditions of Oxford and of Cambridge. Few
Americans write so well as either of these, and if the classical
tradition further weakens in the American colleges and uni-
versities, or perishes altogether, there will be fewer still in
years to come. Only occasionally is an American book of
even exceptional scholarship really well written.

The typical American, as President Butler sympathetically
draws him, has, in spite of many faults, a fine nature. Here,
as a farewell warning, the President would correct some foreign
misconceptions which, not without reason, are entertained on
this point :

He is not the man who, suddenly grown rich, disports him-
self vulgarly in the public gaze ; he is not the boastful Phil-
istine, who is ignorant of the world's civilization and despises
what he does not know ; he is not the decadent of the large
cities who wastes his patrimony and his life in excess and
frivolity. All these exist in America, but their notoriety is,
unfortunately, out of all proportion to their number.

And then the writer presents a fair ideal of American man-
hood :

The typical American is he who, whether rich or poor,
whether dwelling in the North, South, East, or West,
whether scholar, professional man, merchant, manufacturer,
farmer, or skilled worker for wages, lives the life of a good
citizen and a good neighbor ; who believes loyally and with
all his heart in his country's institutions, and in the under-

1909.] NEW BOOKS 545

lying principles on which these institutions are built; who
directs both his private and his public life by sound princi-
ples ; who cherishes high ideals ; and who aims to train his
children for a useful life and for their country's service.

From the tenor of some of his observations one would ex-
pect that Mr. Butler would have inserted some religious faith
as an indispensable trait in this portrait. Perhaps he means to
convey this characteristic in the phrases referring to the under-
lying principles of the country's institutions ; for, backing up
his assertion with the well-known pronouncement of Justice
Brewer, he affirms that the United States is, both in law and
in fact, a Christian nation ; and that the whole point of view
of the people, as well as their institutions and traditions, are
those which have been developed under the dominance of the
Christian faith.

The title and the handsome bind-

THE TRIAL OF JESUS. ing of these two large volumes*

stimulate curiosity. Have we

dropped on a masterpiece of criticism and biblical lore, com-
bined with forensic science ? or is the title itself its strongest
claim to attention ? A glance at the preface discovers that the
work is on the plane of the popular lecture platform, where
the speaker appeals to his audience with picturesque descrip-
tion, commonplace allusion, and a matter-of-fact handling of
topics that are usually treated only in the solemn language of
the pulpit. The first volume discusses the trial of our Lord
before the High Priest, from the point of view of Jewish legal
procedure. "What was the nature of the charge brought against
the Christ ? Was He guilty as charged ? Were forms of law
duly observed in the trial of the accusation against Him?1'
The author has read a number of authorities on the laws and
customs of Israel ; but he does really grapple with what might
have been the most interesting and serviceable feature of his
task, that is, to demonstrate against rationalistic criticism, that
the Gospel narratives are unimpeachable documentary evidence
for the facts of the case. The subject is spun out by numer-
ous digressions.

The second volume reviews the Roman trials before Herod

* The Trial of Jesus. Enm a Lawyer's Standpoint. By Walter M. Chandler, of the
New York Bar. 2 Vols. New York : The Empire Publishing Company.
VOL. LXXXVTH. — 35

546 NEW BOOKS [Jan.,

and Pilate. These, Mr. Chandler shows, were, like the Hebrew
one, grossly illegal in form. This volume is swollen by the ad-
dition of a treatise on Graeco Roman Paganism, of which the
aim is to describe the moral degradation that prevailed at the
time of Christ. This subject is a rather incongruous and unbe-
coming one to place in juxtaposition with the other, especially
as the author has spread plentifully over his pages salacious
details furnished by Suetonius, Arnobius, and other classic
writers. He borrows plentifully, too, from Dollinger's Jew and
Gentile. The author's treatment of his subject, united to a fas-
cinating delivery, would, doubtless, secure from a popular au-
dience a higher measure of approbation than it can hope to
command from any cold-blooded critic who makes his acquaint-
ance with it through print.

The rapidity with which the great

THE CATHOLIC ENCYCLO- work of the Catholic Encyclo-
PEDIA. pedia* is progressing exceeds the

expectation even of its most op-
timistic friends. Only six months have elapsed since the ap-
pearance of the third volume, and now the fourth appears,
accompanied with an assurance from the managers that the
fifth is advancing rapidly towards completion. The list of con-
tributors, numbering about two hundred and thirty, is of the
same cosmopolitan character as those of the previous volumes.
English, French and other continental scholars have contributed
extensively ; and almost all the weightier articles have been
written by persons whose names are already favorably asso-
ciated with the literature of the respective subjects. While
welcoming a few of the new contributors, one must also regret
the absence from the present list of some names that are
signed to articles of conspicuous merit in some of the pre-
ceding volumes; and we still look in vain for the names of
some American scholars and professors who, from their posi-
tion in American Catholic education, one would expect to find
among forces making for the signal success of this American
Catholic undertaking.

The fourth volume fairly merits the praise of maintaining
the high standard embodied in the preceding numbers. There

* The Cathtlic Encyclopedia. Vol. IV. Clan-Dio. New York : Robert Appleton Com-
pany.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 547

are not, perhaps, so many subjects of paramount interest as
there were in the first and second. But this drawback to the
value of the volume is offset by the high quality of a large
number of articles on topics which, if not of the highest, are
of very high interest. Among the chief biblical questions
treated are the Book of Daniel, by Dr. Gigot, who handles this
thorny question very circumspectly; and the Deluge, by Father
Maas, who, while remaining well within the pale of orthodoxy,
makes some concessions to modern science. In deference to it,
Father Maas affirms, the geographical universality of the Flood,
held everywhere till the seventeenth century, may be safely
abandoned. But he takes his stand uncompromisingly on the
anthropological universality. That the whole human race was
destroyed by the Deluge is a conclusion which we must ac-
cept, because up to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries this
belief was general ; and, moreover, the Fathers held, not as a
private opinion, but as a development of the doctrine con-
tained in the well-known texts from the Petrine Epistles, that
the Ark and the Flood are types of Baptism and of the Church.
There are two interesting articles on biblical criticism. If the
writer of the one on Textual Criticism had been entrusted
with that on Higher Criticism, we should have, on this point,
a more striking manifestation of "that careful adjustment of
writer and subject " which, the editors justly claim, has " guar-
anteed the scholarly quality of the Encyclopedia.'* One of
the gems of the volume is the paper on Historical Criticism
by no less an authority than Father De Smetd. Its ten pages
contain a clear, comprehensive synopsis of the principles of
historic criticism as expounded in the book which won for the
writer a high reputation in the world of scholarship.

Among the more prominent topics is " Constantinople,"
which embraces a vast quantity of historical, liturgical, and
political information ably presented by various pens. The
quality of the articles on the Councils of Constantinople and
of Constance increases the prevailing regret that the writer has
not yet applied himself to the production of some work worthy
of his talents, which, though not quite buried in a napkin, have
not yet yielded the results of which they are capable. " Col-
umbus/' " Dante/1 " Cyril of Alexandria/1 " Cyril of Jerusa-
lem," "Copernicus," "Descartes," are among the best speci-
mens of biographical writing in the volume ; while " Contrition,"

548 NEW BOOKS [Jan.,

" Confirmation/1 " Communion," " Cross and Crucifix," and
" Cloister," may be mentioned as valuable items in this rich
treasure-house of expositions of doctrine and discipline.

Philosophy is well represented by " Deism," " Deity," " Cyn-
ic School of Philosophy," " Cyrenaic School of Philosophy,"
" Creation," and " Creatiomism." If we were to mention the
o»e article most remarkable for the interest attaching to its
subject just now, we should pick out that on " Conscious-
ness," which has been ably treated by Father Maher. To an
adjoining article on " Conscience," by Father Rickaby, we
should turn, if called on to illustrate to a non- Catholic the
broad and temperate spirit which, generally speaking, pre-
vails throughout the pages of the Encyclopaedia. The partic-
ular passage which we should cite as an evidence of the fair-
mindedness that is not, as some people assert, a quality far to
seek in all Catholic writers, consists of a warning against the
fault of imputing to men, as actual fact, all the false conse-
quences that may logically be deduced from their systems.
Men, Father Rickaby points out, as he names Kant, Spinoza,
Paulsen, may be better than their systems; and, as a crown-
ing instance, he mentions Luther and his pernicious doctrines
concerning free will and good works, who nevertheless " as-
serted that the good tree of the faith-justified-man must bring
forth good works ; he condemned vice most bitterly, and ex-
horted men to virtue." " Hence Protestants can depict Luther
simply as the preacher of good, while Catholics may regard
simply the preacher of evil. Luther has both sides." By
tke way, one is astonished to find in this fine article a
strange definition of ethics — " Ethics is conduct or regulated
life." Ethics is no more conduct than geography is the sur-
face of the earth. Ethics is a science; the science of conduct
or regulated life, if you will — at least such is American usage^
which is supported by the first authorities across the water.

To indicate that the Encyclopaedia, while giving due atten-
tion to the past, aims at recording contemporary movements
and treating contemporary questions, we may turn to the ar-
ticles on the following subjects : " Congo," " Cremation," " Com-
munism," "Co-education," "Collectivism." As the Encyclo-
paedia grows, so must grow the conviction that when it is com-
pleted— with its historical accounts of men and times and places
that figure in the Church's story for two thousand years ; with

1909.] NEW BOOKS 549

its record of the various forms of philosophic thought and re-
ligious beliefs which she has encountered ; with its description
of her interests bound up in every great human movement;
and its presentation of her doctrines and discipline that per-
meate every nook and cranny of life — the Catholic Encyclo-
paedia will be a majestic monument of the Church's catholicity.

That veteran traveler, Maud Howe,
RAMBLES IN SPAIN. who has a method all her own of

describing the countries which she

has visited, now tells us of her rambles in Spain during the
year 1906,* which, it will be remembered, was the year of the
king's marriage. This event, which the author witnessed, is
vividly described, as are also the enthusiastic preparations of the
previous days, and the terrible catastrophe of the day itself.
There is nothing of the guidebook here. The writer simply
relates the experiences of herself and her party ; the people
they met, the places they visited, the sights, public and do-
mestic, which they saw, in a trip which embraced Gibraltar,
Seville, Cordova, Granada, Madrid, Toledo, with a flying ex-
cursion to Tangiers.

Many travelers, who write of their wanderings, have not en-
joyed the privilege of meeting, on intimate ground, any of
the people whose country they have passed through ; and, in
consequence, their books contain little but what is superficial'
about the manners and characteristics of the lands which they
have visited. On the contrary, Maud |Howe met, on terms of
friendship and intimacy, many very interesting Spaniards and en-
joyed the hospitality of their homes; so she is able to present
us with some intimate glimpses of Spanish character and man-
ners. She met all sorts of people, from the King and Queen
to bullfighters, gypsies, and professional dancers; assisted at all
sorts of spectacles, from the gorgeous services of Holy Week
in the Cathedral of Seville to the horse- fair and the carnival.
Her experiences are related, not in the stiff form of impersonal
description, but, mainly, by reporting the conversations — always
lively, and frequently witty — of the party which accompanied
her. Among the members of the party were frequently a dis-
tinguished painter and a charming, broken-down gentleman of
fortune, who was educated at Stonyhurst, and as a legacy of

* Sun and Shadow in Spain. By Maud Howe. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.

NEW BOOKS [Jan-i

•

the distant days of his youth possessed a very amusing variety of
broken English. The warm sympathy entertained for her hosts,
public and private, glowing in every page of Maud Howe's
book, is one of its charms ; and though she is not a Catholic,
difference of religion does not act as a restraint on the warmth
of her feelings and admiration. Though, as she remarks her-
self, she did not see Spain, and the account of her journey, if
not quite what she herself calls it, "a halting story," covers
only a few cities, yet she manages to impress the reader with
her own experience of the " spell of Spain, so dark, so noble,
so tremendous, not to be shaken off."

Probably she believed she had exhausted the language of
eulogy when she compares the Spaniards to a race that only
recently would have considered the comparison a compliment
to themselves: " They are more like us Anglo-Saxons than any
people I have lived among. Villegas (the painter) says: 'In
every one of us Spaniards there is a Sancho Panza, and a Don
Quixote.' That is as true of us as it is of them." The book
has a goodly number of illustrations.

Myrtle Reed's Flowers of the

FICTION. Dusk * is a pleasant, graceful story,

told in an easy, unaffected, natural

style, brightened with gleams of humor and wit which relieve
the genuine pathos that is the prevalent note of the story.
One is puzzled to say whether its chief character is hero or
heroine, for the interest is fairly divided between the blind
father and his crippled daughter. Ambrose North is an elderly
man of high ideals and poetic temperament, who lost his eye-
sight many years previous to the opening of the tale ; and,
shortly after, lost his fortune, though he knew it not. As
the story opens, we find his daughter, Barbara, and her aunt
living together with him, and acting a fiction in order to prevent
him from discovering that, instead of being in the enjoyment of
wealth, they depend for support on Barbara's needle. The old
man's happiness is Barbara; Barbara and the cherished recol-
lection of his dead wife. Did she not love him passionately
till that last fatal moment when after Barbara's birth she, for
some unaccountable reason, took her own life? Through the
discovery of an old letter, forgotten in a book, Barbara and

* Flowers of the Dusk. By Myrtle Reed. New York; G. P. Putnam's Sons.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 551

her lover discover the truth— that the dead wife had ceased to
love her husband, and committed suicide to avoid temptation.
Through the generosity of a wealthy young lady — the fairy
godmother — who with her fiance furnish the fun of the story,
Ambrose North's sight is restored, and it seems impossible to
keep from his knowledge the contents of the terrible letter.
But Barbara manages deftly to stand between him and the
fatal knowledge; so he dies at the crisis of the story and still
happy in his life-long delusion. The book is daintily printed
and bound.

The girl described in Old Mr. Davenant's Money * is a good
piece of character drawing. She is naive and ingenuous, and,
by her undiscerning friends, in consequence, set down as
hopelessly stupid. But they are very much mistaken; for,
when she gets away from her domineering old grandmother, to
visit her fashionable relatives and their circle, she displays,
though she herself is unconscious of it, shrewd good sense,
as well as a very decided will of her own. The plot of the
play turns upon the ruse adopted by one of the women to keep
old Mr. Davenant's money for herself and her child. She had
twins, one a girl, the other a boy; if the boy died the money
was to go to another relative ; if he lived it should be his and
his mother's. The reticence which leaves the reader to guess
for himself — from sufficient, though veiled, hints — the facts of the
case, exhibits a delicacy of touch that resembles French art
rather than the clumsier methods that prevail with our own
writers, except those of the first rank.

Another pleasant story is Sydney Carringtorfs Contumacy^
in which a very wilful but high-minded young girl sets her
guardians at defiance by keeping up a correspondence with a
young man whom they have forbidden her to see. But her
persistence in the correspondence is merely a benevolent scheme
to help him out of a scrape ; for she does not love him at all.
Another young lady presents the problem of an imaginary re-
ligious vocation, striving long, but vainly, against the rival in-
fluence. Though religious conversion also is an element of the
plot, these matters are not allowed, as frequently happens in

* Old Mr. Davenant's Money. By Frances Powell. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.
t Sydney Carringtons Contumacy. By X. Lawson. New York : Fr. Pustet & Co.

552 NEW BOOKS [Jan.,

novels from a distinctly Catholic standpoint, to stifle the in-
terest of the story.

A wonderful piece of imagination, in the Jules Verne vein,
is The Man Who Ended War* The American Secretary of
War received a letter informing him that the writer, determined
to stop the devastations of war, would, after the lapse of a
year, destroy every battleship in the world. Accordingly, in
due time, an American battleship disappeared, " melted into
the yeast of waves," in the most mysterious manner; and a
similar fate overtook, in succession, a French, a German, and
an English battleship. Meanwhile a newspaper man and two
scientists — brother and sister — friends of his, start to dis-
cover the perpetrator and his means of operation. How they
at last run him down is a long story, full of adventures on
the water, experiments with radio-activity, tracing of clues
through dingy houses in London, and under the English chan-
nel in submarines. Of course they do run down the great in-
ventor and discover the secret of his power, which could re-
duce metal to vapor at a thousand miles' distance. But he is
not cornered till he has destroyed the best part of the Eng-
lish and German navies, and the nations of the world have re-
solved to pledge themselves to abandon war. There is a good
deal of ingenuity in the concoction of the tale; but its scien-
tific data fit but loosely together in many places, and, even
after the first enormous " Let it be granted " is conceded, too
many demands are made, by the details, upon probability.

One must not inspect too criti-

UNTRODDEN ENGLISH cally the title which Mr. Shelley
WAYS> affixes to his description of places

that he has visited in England,!

for some of them have been trodden steadily for generations
by the tourist as well as by the native. The "Poets' Corner "
in Westminster Abbey, for instance, has long been a place of
literary pilgrimage; and, though the tide of fashion has long
since ceased to roll through " Bath and its baths," Thackeray's
influence alone has been strong enough to prevent the moss
from growing on the streets of that city. The proportion,
however, of the places and monuments described that are out

• The Man Wh. Ended War. By Hollis Godfrey. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.
t Untrodden English Ways. By Henry C. Shelley. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 553

of the beaten track of the sightseer is large enough to justify
the title. Some out-of-the-way spots on the Coast of Corn-
wall; some nooks of Devon; the Lincolnshire fens; Beacons-
field; the Nonconformist cemetery of Bunhill Fields, where are
buried John Bunyan, Daniel Defoe, and some lesser celebrities;
and several other places of equal interest, are described by the
pen and camera of Mr. Shelley. He visits also several other
notable burying grounds; and two "memorable pulpits*' —
that of Thomas Arnold in the Chapel of Rugby, and that
of the parish church of Lavington from which Cardinal Man-
ning preached in his Anglican days. One chapter, which in-
troduces a little known curiosity corner, describes the contents
of the storeroom in Westminster Abbey, which contains the
wax figures representing the deceased, which, according t© an
old custom, were borne in the funeral procession at royal in-
terments. Mr. Shelley brings a pair of observant eyes, some
historical and literary gossip, but not much imagination or
play of feeling to his task of description. The illustrations,
most of which are photogravures, are well executed, and the
book is prettily bound.

The anonymous author who gives

THE ECCLESIASTICAL us this excellent little volume,* ex-
YEAR. plaining the meaning of the feasts,

fasts, and devotions of the ecclesi-
astical year, has treated a well-worn subject in a fresh and at-
tractive manner. The space given to each feast and fast or
devotion is small ; but the writer knows the knack of conden-
sation; and Uses no time with insipidities or irrelevancies. His
purpose is to stimulate devotion as well as to instruct. The re-
flections are pithy and suggestive ; and to each topic an edi-
fying " example " is added. The book is very suitable for spir-
itual reading for busy persons who are unable or unwilling to
devote more than eight or ten minutes a day to this exercise.

For the benefit of laymen, Dr.
PATROLOGY. Adrian Fortescue, whose interest

in the Eastern Church, past and

present, has enriched our library with some valuable works,
publishes a set of short biographies of the Greek Fathers.f

* Catholic Life ; or, The Feasts, Fasts, and Devotions of the Ecclesiastical Year. New
York : Benziger Brothers.

t The Greek Fathers. By Dr. Adrian Fortescue. St. Louis : B. Herder.

554 NEW BOOKS [Jan.

The aim of the writer is rather historical than theological; so
he does not touch upon the theological value of the Fathers'
writings. He gives, however, a list of them and of the various
editions in which they are to be found. The biographical
sketches are fairly comprehensive without going into detail.
One is frequently surprised, and not always pleasantly surprised,
at finding the long-established English form of a Greek name
set aside for one more nearly approaching to or identical with
the original. The Doctor apologizes for his inconsistency in
the spelling of Greek names, on the ground that one cannot
spell them all in Greek nor all in English. He wishes that they
could all be spelled in Greek, but, not daring to adopt this
plan, he approached as near as possible to it. But some of
the names which he has changed have obtained a right of citi-
zenship just as much as others which he has respected. We are
spared Athanasios; but instead of our old friends, Eusebius
and Nazianzan, we are introduced to Eusebeios and Nazianzos.
This, however, is a trifle that is to be condoned in view of the
solid utility and scholarly form of Dr. Fortescue's study.

This volume * consists of a series of papers published in the
Revue du Clerge Franfais during the past year. M. Boudinhon,
who suggested the name of M. Villien to the editor of the
Revue, contributes a preface, in which he congratulates the au-
thor upon his success and advises the reader upon what he
may expect: namely, monograph, written quite in accord with
the best historical method, describing the origins, the develop-
ment, and, when necessary, the gradual mitigation of the
"commandments of the Church."

We can readily agree with M. Boudinhon, that his protege
has done his work well. In fact, it is little less than wonder-
ful how these French scholars of the new school succeed in in-
fusing living interest into the treatment of matters that in all
probability would have been insufferably tedious if written ac-
cording to the methods in vogue twenty or thirty years ago.

Any student whose researches take him into the field of
church institutions, and any preacher who is anxious to give
his congregation a series of discourses upon the specific obli-
gations of the Catholic, will thank M. Villien for this conven-
ient, interesting, erudite treatise.

* Histoire des Ctmmandtmtnts de I '£glise. Par A. Villien. Preface par M. 1'Abbd Bou-
dinhon. Paris : Lecoffre.

jforeicjn periobicals.

The Tablet (7 Nov.): Anent the "Sunday Closing Movement,"
Mr. Balfour put himself on record as saying that if only
his countrymen could be brought back to what used to be
their beverage, viz., beer, more would be done for tem-
perance than all the Sunday closing would be able to

do. The article on the "Continuity Theory" of the

Anglican Bishop of Bristol is brought to a close, giving
a quotation from a leading Anglican church paper to
the effect "that the idea of a Pre- Reformation Church
independent of Rome was merely a dream of contro-
versialists." The Rev. Gerald Stack treats the " Sixth

Chapter of St. John " with reference to the light it
throws on the most difficult text in the Gospels: "Give
us this day our daily bread." Writing on the "Edu-
cation Bill," the Daily Chronicle suggests that if the
government is balked in its purpose, one weapon re-
mains— administrative pressure.

(14 Nov.): "The National Union of Conservative Asso-
ciations " has put out a declaration of policy, which
states that the free importation of manufactured goods
is decreasing the area of employment, and all classes
are turning their eyes towards the banner of fiscal

reform. Penny Postage between Great Britain and

this country being an accomplished fact, Mr. Henniker
Heaton has now started a new campaign in favor of

" Penny-a-Word Cablegrams" all over the world.

" The Recent Eucharistic Congress " receives a eulo-
gistic notice from St. Cuthbert's Anglican church maga-
zine, which attributes the growth of the Catholic Church
in England to her strong government; she has been well
led, while weakness and indecision have marked the his-
tory of the Church of England. " Our First Legates"

is the conclusion of a series of articles by Canon Moyes
showing the extent of Papal Jurisdiction in England
eleven hundred years ago.

(21 Nov.): The latest movement in regard to the vexed
"Education Question" is the Prime Minister's announce-
ment of a New Bill. Under the heading "The Dead

Bill and the New Peril," it is pointed out that the

556 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Jan.,

•

Anglican surrender can in no way effect the Catholic
position on the question. Catholic children will not
go to Protestant schools — they will go to Catholic schools

or nowhere. The account of "The Papal Jubilee"

gives an opportunity to make a review of all the

leading activities of the Pontificate of Pius X. In a

circular just issued by the Emigrants' Information Office,
" Where Not to Go,'* emigrants are cautioned against
going to the United States until there has been a sus-
tained recovery from the depression. A recent work

by Signor Righetta makes the somewhat startling an-
nouncement of the alleged discovery of a spurious or
interpolated canto in the received text of the "Inferno.1*
The canto referred to is the eleventh.

The Month (Nov.): "The Moral Education Congress," by the
Rev. F. S. Smith, is a report of the proceedings of the
Congress held last September in London, having as its
object the improving of the Moral Education offered in

schools. "The Mystery of Life," by the Editor, asks

the old question : What is Life ? What constitutes the
impassable gulf between a donkey and a donkey-engine?
Our extended knowledge of to-day takes us back to the
simple belief of the day before — that the principle of life
is not heat, not electricity, not any force known to phy-
sicist or chemist, but something essentially different from

any of these. "The Religion of Mithra," says C.

C. Martindale, was originally a dualistic nature- worship,
which was gradually overlaid with Babylonian astrolog-
ical symbolism, although the worst Asiatic features are

never found in it. " Faith Found in Fleet Street," is a

review of Mr. Chesterton's Apologia for Christianity,
which he says alone allows man the free and natural

use of his faculties. "Another Protestant Advocate

of Tyrannicide" points out that the theory of "killing
no murder" had no place in Scotland until John Knox
preached tyrannicide against Mary Tudor and Mary Queen
of Scots.

The Expository Times (Dec.) : " Was the Last Supper the Pass-
over Supper?" Mr. Brooke and Professor Burkitt hold
that it was not, and thus reopen an old-time controversy.
Their claim is that St. Luke's account agreed with that

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 557

of St. John, but that the text of the former was altered
to make it fit into the Synoptic tradition, In a lec-
ture, "The Religionist and the Scientist," by Rev. G. A.
Ross, it is pointed out that if religion is indebted to
science, the latter also owes something to the former.

"The Value of the History of Religions for Preach*

ers " is that it will enable the reader better to appreciate
his own, for the attack upon Christianity to-day is made

from the side of Comparative Religion. " The Bearing

of Criticism upon the Gospel History," by the Rev. W.
Sanday, of Oxford, deals with the difference between
the non-critical and critical methods of studying the Gos-
pels.

The International (Nov.): Under Economics the editor treats
of " Constitutionalism in the Factory.1' Nationalization,
combined with industrial constitutionalism, is to supply
the harmony which drowns all the discords of the pres-
ent time. "The Jews in China," by S. M. Pertman,

tells of the settlement of a colony of Jews in China, at
a date so far unknown, where they have, to a large ex-
tent, become assimilated with the people and accepted

their religion. " America's Yellow Peril." We learn

that in Hawaii, under cover of working emigrants, 60,000
Japanese have established themselves, and that their pres-
ence is no assurance of peace. " French Canada" treats

of the three great divisions of that country, separated from
one another by manners and customs, tradition and psy-
chological characteristics, French, English, American.
" The Miracles of Suggestion." Suggestion can cure only
the ills it has caused. It can do nothing against natural
laws, consequently the domain of faith-healing is limited.

The Journal of Theological Studies (Oct.) : " The Apocalypse,"
by Dr. Hort. The writer has no hesitancy in attributing
the authorship to St. John, placing its writing at a period
between Nero's persecution and the fall of Jerusalem.

" Historical Introduction to the Textual Criticism of

the New Testament," by C. H. Turner, who suggests that
the subject of textual criticism might be less repellant
were we to approach it from the point of view of living
history — something belonging to the Church. This
method the writer proceeds to develop. Cuthbert

558 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Jan.,

Latty, in writing on ' ' The Apostolic Groups," shows
how the grouping represents four corresponding stages
in the evolution of the apostolic college; incidentally
he mentions the position assigned to the Lord's breth-
ren and refers to Dom Chapman's article dealing with

the subject. Some fifty pages of the magazine are

devoted to an exhaustive analytical study of " The Leo-
nine Sacramentary."

The Irish Ecclesiastical Record (Nov.): "The Church and the
Bible," by Rev. S. J. Walsh, is a protest against the
charge so commonly made that the Catholic Church is

the enemy of the Bible. " Appearance and Reality,"

by Rev. P. Coffey, sums up the unsoundness of the
Kantian position.— Under " Notes and Queries " are
answered many questions of great interest dealing with

theological and liturgical difficulties. Among the

" Documents " published is the full text of the exhorta-
tion of Pius X. to the clergy of the world.

Etudes (5 Nov.): "The Fiftieth Anniversary of the Sovereign
Pontiff's Priesthood," is the inspiration of a laudatory

review of Pius X.'s reign by L. de Grandmaison.

Lucien Choupin gives a succinct account of the various
divisions of the " Roman Curia, and its Recent Reorgani-
zation by the Present Pope." Apropos of a recent

work, Yves de la Briere discusses the attitude of "St.
Cyprian Towards the Papacy." Joseph Brucker, writ-
ing of a recently discovered " Papyrus of the City of As-
souan," in Egypt, contributes an article on the customs
of a Jewish colony residing there in the fifth century
before Christ.

(20 Nov.) : " A Comparison Between Morals Based on
Science and Those Based on the Gospel." The former
do not contribute the idea of obligation that the latter
do. They lack the notion of responsibility. Their high-
est aims are individual and selfish. Fred Bouvier, re-
viewing the recent " Congress for the Study of Com-
parative Religion Convened at Oxford," speaks of it in
terms of praise and thinks it is but the beginning of a
work that is to endure,— — In " The Dogma of Transub-
stantiation and the Christology of the Antiochian School
of the Fifth Century," Jules Lebreton candidly admits

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 559

the difficulties presented by the writings of the Antiochian
Fathers. He maintains, however, that the distinction of
the two natures in Christ and the permanence of the
substance of bread and wine in the Eucharist are not
supported by a universal and prolonged tradition.
La Civilta Cattolica (7 Nov.): "The Reformed Modernism.11
The Modernists, in their desire to abolish the abuses,
true or false, in the Church to-day, are moved by an
absurd principle — by a sophism which the logicians call
the " Fallacy of the Accident'' i. e.t they attribute to the
nature of a thing that which agrees with it only in an
accidental and a variable way. We know that the Church
is a Divine Society, and that Christ is with her to the
consummation of the world. "The Esoterics of Reli-
gion as Viewed by Theosophy." For the Theosophists
the religion founded by Christ is equal to Buddhism, in-
vented by Buddha ; to Mohammedanism, established by
the prophet of Mecca ; and for them there is as much
truth in the revelations of Buddha and of Mohammed as
in the miracles and revelations of Christ. " The Na-
tional Character and the Catechism " is again continued.
This month the nature of modern science is discussed,
and it is shown that Italy still possesses worthy succes-
sors of Dante, Columbus, Michael Angelo, and Raphael,
in the school of culture for the formation of the na-
tional character.

(21 Nov.): "The Triumph of Christ in the Jubilee of the
Pope." A history of Pope Pius X.'s short but success-
ful pontificate, showing how there is an evidence of the
triumph of Christ's interests in the person of His Vicar
on earth, who has gained the love and admiration of
the entire Christian world. "The Liberty of Instruc-
tion." The only true and practical solution of the prob-
lem of education in Italy to-day is liberty of instruction.
Italy will demand the liberty in education as enjoyed in
the United States of America, which is the object of
her admiration and worthy of imitation. "The Vati-
can Edition of the Gregorian Melody. The announce-
ment in the Motu Proprio of April 25, 1904, that a new
edition of the Graduale Romanum would be published
by the Holy See, is now fulfilled ; the work is completed

560 POREIGN PERIODICALS [Jan.,

and will, no doubt, be welcomed by the teachers of
Plain Chant.

Revue Pratique d* Apologetique (i Nov.): "The Resurrection of
Jesus Christ/1 by E. Mangenot. It demonstrates that
the Resurrection, as an historic fact, is clearly attested
by the New Testament writers. This article is restricted
to the testimony of St. Paul, and shows that he not only
asserted the fact of the Resurrection, but also that this
fact was transmitted by a tradition which was truly his-
torical. R. P. Le Bachelet writes his impressions of

the Eucharistic Congress. His article is glowing and
enthusiastic.

(15 Nov.): "The True Religion of the Spirit," by A.
Baudrillart. This is a University Sermon directed against
the well-known work of A. Sabatier. The argument is
to prove the unity of spiritual enthusiasm with authorita-
tive religion ; the proofs cited are the lives of famous

saints: Augustine, Bernard, Ignatius, and others.

This number's installment of E. Mangenot's study on
the Resurrection deals with the chronology of the event.
He argues that St. Paul's testimony for the Resurrection

on the third day is verified in the Gospel accounts.

The text of a letter from Cardinal Satolli to the Bishop
is 'given. The purpose of it is to urge a deeper study
and wider use of Latin in the Seminaries of France.

Revue du Monde Catholique (i Nov.): Arthur Savaete gives the
second part of his article, dealing with the French-
Canadian situation, under the title " Towards the Abyss.'*
It is chiefly a presentation of some documents pointing
out the dangers attendant upon the growth of liberalism

among the Catholic French- Canadians Two more

chapters are contributed to " The French Clergy in the

Past and Since the Concordat of 1801." Marina Alix

treats of "The Socialist Religion," and expounds its

tenets as the antitheses of Christianity.- "The French

Apologists of the Nineteenth Century " gives the bio-
graphy of Father Felix, who occupied the illustrious
position of Chairman of the Conferences of Netre Dame.
His system of philosophy and the nature of his work as
an Apologist are dealt with at length.
(15 Nov.): In "Feminism," by Theo. Joran, the writer

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 561

remarks that women do not need, in the present day, to
be defended against some imaginary tyranny, but rather
against themselves and their false friends, for the op-
pression of woman coincides with the humiliation of
man. In this connection Poulain's " Discourse on the
Equality of the Sexes " and " The Education of Women"
are analyzed. He is described as a sophist feeble in

his thesis and vigorous in his antithesis. " Ambition "

is discussed in the second conference on "Woman and
Her Mission/' by M. Sicard. The field of ambition for
the Christian woman is threefold: the education of her
children, influencing her husband for good, and combat-
ting so-called feminism.

La Democratic Chretienne (Nov.) : Notice is given of a work
which has appeared under the title Pages of Christian
Sociology, consisting of two parts. The Doctrine and The
Action. An article is to be devoted to it in the ensu-
ing issue. "The Situation of the Social Question at

the Present Moment," by Dr. Vogelsang, who treats it
under the headings: "Liberalism"; "Atheism"; and
"Nihilism." He claims that each of these "isms" can
count its votaries in the various countries of Europe,
and that in France Nihilism has gradually insinuated
itself among the lower strata of society. He shows that
the spirit of the time is well expressed in the words of
Guizot, " enrich yourselves," by pointing to the enor-
mous increase of the nouveaux riches. " The Chris-
tian Workingman's Movement in Belgium," is reviewed
during the ten years or so of its existence. There has
been a steady increase in its activities and to-day it
counts i, 600 societies or unions, with a membership of
200,000; and by its action it has disarmed much of the
prejudice against it, which once existed, and has gained
the approval of the Belgian Episcopate.

Annales de Philosophic Chretienne (Nov.): "The Theodicy of
Fenelon and his Quietest Theory," by Jacques Riviere,
underwent, the writer claims, a great change between the
time of his refutation of Malebranche and his later works,

published in his retreat at Cambray. "The Religious

Experience of Contemporary Protestantism," by D. Sab-
atier, is concluded. The two great tenets of Protest-
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 36

562 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Jan.,

antism are discussed — "The Scripture the Sole Source
of Revelation" and "Justification by Faith Without
Works." The Catholic falls back upon the infallibility
of his Church on determining the truths to be be-
lieved; the Protestant gives his adhesion to the evidence
of his reason, his moral and religious sense. It is this
incompatibility between Catholic realism and Protestant
idealism which must render illusory all hopes of corpor-
ate reunion.

La Revue des Sciences Ecclesiastiques et La Science Catholique
(Nov.): "God in History/' by M. L'Abbe Roupain.
In this fifth conference the author treats of the Divin-
ity of Christ. It is not his object to make a complete
demonstration of this truth, but to present scientifically
the faith of those who believe in Him as opposed to

the modernistic interpretation of the Incarnation.

" Psycho- Psychology," Chapter III., "Phenomenon of
Stigmatism," by M. Le Chanoine Gombault. The views
of the theologian and psychologist are presented, and
two chief topics considered. Can the phenomenon of
stigmatism be attributed to the imaginative power ? Can
hypnotic stigmas be compared with those usually at-
tributed to supernatural power, as, for instance, those of

St. Francis of Assisi ? "The Felicity of Lamennais,"

treats of that portion of his life which is dealt with by
the Abbe Boulard in his second volume, entitled Liberal
Catholicism. The writer, Abbe Biguet, in his review of
this volume, considers some of the prominent movements
of the period in which the literary work of Lamennais

played an important part. "A Chronology of our

Lord Jesus Christ," deals with the census ordered by
Augustus, which began in the year 745, when our Lord
was born, and so coincides with the narrative given by
St. Luke.

Espana y America (i Nov.): P. M. Rodriquez, reviewing the
"Present Situation in Colombia," believes that the Re-
public is not dying, but that, as evidenced by its alliance

with Japan, it presses forward to a glorious future

P. E. Negrete, continuing his "^Esthetic Ideas of St.
Augustine," takes issue with Guyau and briefly dis-
cusses Lalo's essay on the aesthetic sense. "The

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 563

General Law of Religious Music," treats the question
whether there is an essential difference between theat-
rical and sacred music. The article is written by Frederico
Olmeda. The life and labors of R. P. Lorenzo Al-
varez, O.S.A., who died recently after an exemplary
missionary career in China, are related sympathetically
by P. C. de la Puente.

(15 Nov.): P. S. Garcia, in " Theological Modernism and
Traditional Theology," shows how the errors of Loisy re-
garding the Church may be refuted from the Bible and

from history. " A Monologue," by G. Jiinemann, is

called forth by the publication of "The Greater Re-
ligious Dramas of Calderon." An article on " Peru,"

especially its government, education, and religious con-
dition, is furnished by P. M. Valez. "The Centenary

of Balmez," the purest glory of Spain in the nineteenth
century, gives a brief but exact picture of that philos-
opher's views and position. The writer is P. Aurelio
Martinez.

Razon y Fe (Nov.): "The Divine and Human in History," by
E. Portillo, begins in this issue. The author treats of
"The Divine Element in History," and shows the ten-
dency of modern historians to deny the existence of
God and revelation. After giving the historical data
concerning these truths, he compares the methods and
truths of faith and history; traces the evidences of God
and Christ in the world; and treats the question of

miracles. "The Organization of Trade Unions" is

treated at length by N. Noguer. R. Ruiz Amado

gives us an interesting article on "The University of
Oxford." This issue also contains the " Exhorta-
tion of his Holiness, Pius X., to the Catholic Clergy on

the Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of his Priesthood."

And "Twelve Years of Radio- Activity," by Jaime

M. del Bassio.

Current Bvents.

During the discussions which took
France. place on the Near Eastern Ques-

tion, and on the German Emper-
or's interview, Morocco fell into the background. On a sud-
den, however, it came to the front again, and for a moment
seemed to threaten to develop into an even more acute crisis
than either of the other two. Of this the Casablanca incident
was the cause. As in mediaeval times so also in our own there
are a number of worthies whose delight is in warfare. A num-
ber of these form the Foreign Legion of the French Army,
which is now in active service in Morocco. Of these some half-
dozen of German, Austrian, and Swiss nationality deserted from
the ranks. The German Consul at Casablanca took them under
his protection, and as they were under the conduct of a Moor
being marched off to a vessel for embarkation, they were ar-
rested, with a certain amount of violence, by French soldiers,
and lodged in prison.

Technically this was an affront to the German Empire, but
morally the case was so bad, that that Empire felt a little
ashamed to take earnest action in the matter; and so in a
more or less informal manner it proposed that the whole
question should be submitted to arbitration; a proposal which
the French government at once accepted. The difficulty was
therefore looked upon as settled. The unpleasant position,
however, in which the Chancellor, Prince Biilow, had been
placed, by the celebrated interview of the Kaiser and by the
necessity of raising large additional sums of money by taxa-
tion, made, so it said, the Chancellor take advantage of the
dispute for the sake of diverting the attention of his fellow-
subjects from the misdoings of their own government to those
of their enemy, in the belief, justified by experience, that the
country would condone the former in view of the government's
zeal against the latter. And so the Prince required, as a con-
dition of submitting the matter to arbitration, that the French
government should apologize for the conduct of its soldiers in
arresting the deserters while they were under the protection
of the German consul. This, however, the French government
refused to do; and in this refusal they met with the unani-
mous support of every party and of the whole country.

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 565

For some days the Bourses were agitated, a conflict being
looked upon as probable. A compromise, however, was made,
by the terms of which the two governments agreed that they
would simultaneously and on a footing of equality express their
regrets for the acts of violence which had been committed, and
would submit to arbitration the whole of the questions raised
by the incident. According to the verdict of the arbitrators
upon the facts and upon the question of law, each of the two
governments undertook to express its regrets for the acts of
its subordinate agents.

It is understood that the arbitration will be submitted to
the Court established by the Hague Conference. This refer-
ence will form another step towards the advent of that era
which not a few, encouraged by the successes of the past, are
looking forward to with no little confidence, when critical in-
ternational conflicts will be settled by a far more rational
method than that which has hitherto been the last resort. The
conduct of France during this crisis, for such it may be called,
excited the admiration of the world. The conciliatory yet firm
attitude of the government united every party in the State,
from the opponents of the republican form of government
on the one hand, to the extremest of the Socialists on the
other, in unanimous support. The allies of France were of
the same mind, and if the conflict had resulted in war, as for
a few days seemed possible, their united support would have
been given. Three years ago France yielded to pressure from
Germany, and sacrificed M. Delcasse. To a renewed attempt
firm resistance has been offered ; as a consequence, France has
taken a higher place among the nations of Europe.

One thing, however, threatens her permanent hold upon
this position, and this is beginning to be recognized by those
who give serious thought to the needs of the nation. The
French army is at present between ninety and one hundred
thousand smaller in the number of men than the German.
But, owing to the diminishing birth-rate, a serious decrease in
the annual contingent is to be expected in the future. The
male birth-rate has fallen, in thirty years, from 430,000 to
395 ooo last year. This year's contingent was only 210,000
men; in ten years' time it will have fallen to 201,000; in 1928
it will be only 182,000. The effect of this decrease upon the
army will be to reduce its effective strength from 433,000 men

566 CURRENT EVENTS [Jan.,

at present to 402,000 in ten years' time, and to 371,000 in
1928. On the other hand, the German population is growing,
and with it the effective strength of its army.

The failure to keep the laws of nature is meeting with the
retribution which it deserves. Even the navy is suffering from
mal-administration due to dishonesty, dissension, and insubor-
dination. This has led, as has been already mentioned, to the
resignation of the minister in charge of naval affairs. Further
revelations, which have been made on high authority, disclose
even a worse state of things than had been imagined. Ships
without ammunition, a fleet without means of replenishing its
magazines, arsenals without reserves — such has been the con-
dition of things for the past fourteen or fifteen years. And
while the thoughts of the rest of Europe have been occupied
withj political questions of supreme importance, the attention
of Paris has been engrossed with the proceedings of a woman
more depraved than those who constitute the lowest class.

The plan for raising the very large

Germany. amount of additional taxation,

which has been rendered necessary

by the developments of German policy, has at length been laid
before the Reichstag. These proposals, if carried into effect,
will bring home to each and every one the cost of the new
world policy, and may therefore have a sobering effect. The
amount to be raised each year, in addition to the present taxa-
tion, is no less than one hundred and twenty-five millions of dol-
lars. For this purpose recourse is had to seven different sources.
The Empire is to become the sole maker and wholesale distribu-
tor of raw spirits, the further manufacture and the retail distribu-
tion being left to private individuals. This will involve an in-
crease of cost, an increase, however, upon which the govern-
ment congratulates itself, inasmuch as it will tend to restrict
over-indulgence in the use of ardent spirits. The drinkers of
beer, however, are not to escape, nor yet those of wine. The
duty on brewing is to be increased ; still wines are to be taxed
for the first time, while sparkling wines are to have a higher
duty imposed upon them. Smokers will have to pay their share,
for upon cigars, pipe and chewing tobacco, and cigarettes, ad-
ditional taxation is imposed. Not even snuff is excepted. Users
of light will have to pay for the first time to spread German

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 567

civilization throughout the world, for both gas and electricity
are to be taxed for the first time. Electric power is also made
subject to the new impost, although at a lower rate than elec-
tric light. Mental illumination will also have to suffer, for all
commercial and other business announcements in papers and
periodicals, as well as circulars, placards too, and flash light ad-
vertisements, will be levied upon.

Death duties are imposed for the first time, and in future
husbands or wives and children are to be liable to the payment
of duties on inherited estate. The astounding proposal is made
that the State shall become the heir of all estates except of
those which are bequeathed by husbands or wives, or by grand-
parents and parents, or by descendants in the first or second
degrees. Descendants in the third and more distant degrees
are to be excluded from the right of inheritance, although any
moral claims which they can establish in a Court, to be insti-
tuted for the purpose, will be allowed. This seems to be an
unparalleled interference with the rights of property, and a long
step in the direction of Socialism. To complete the list, what
is called the Matricular Contribution of the various States of
the Empire is to be doubled for the period of five years.

These proposals will have to pass through the ordeal of dis-
cussion in the Reichstag, and they have met with a great
deal of opposition, especially as they form only a part of the
increase which is asked for. Each particular State has its own
burdens; and in Prussia a large addition to taxation has been
demanded.

The assurances given by the Kaiser that he would make no
public utterances except those which had received the appro-
bation of the Chancellor were exemplified at a recent celebra-
tion in Berlin. The speech which he was to make was osten-
tatiously handed to him by Prince Biilow ; this speech the
Kaiser dutifully read from the manuscript, and made no remarks
of his own. All Germans, however, are not even yet satisfied ;
they have suffered too much from the fancies and whims of
personal rule. There are many who wish to have an alteration
made in the Constitution which will effectively secure that sta-
bility and security which public discussion and the collective
wisdom of the people alone can give. After a two days' de-
bate the question of a revision has been referred to a Commit-
tee of the Reichstag appointed for the purpose. The repre-

568 CURRENT EVENTS [Jan.,

sentative of the Government having declared that, in the event
of definite proposals being made, they would give to them the
most careful consideration.

On the second of December the

Austria- Hungary. Emperor- King celebrated his Dia-

mond Jubilee, bringing to an end

a series of celebrations which had been going on throughout
the preceding twelve months. If the celebration had taken
place a feiv months ago, the event would have given unalloyed
gratification, not only to his own subjects but to the world at
large, for all had recognized his single-minded sense of duty,
his courage in confronting the many dangers to which his do-
minions have been exposed, his wisdom in bowing to the in-
evitable when his sagacity made him see that it really was in-
evitable, his unremitting labor for the good of the various peo-
ples committed to his charge, and, above all, his unblemished
truth and fidelity. It is this last which has been tarnished by
the recent annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. How far he
is responsible is not known. It is rumored that he has been
led by the overbearing insistence of the heir to the throne and
of his nominee to the Foreign Ministry, Baron von Aehren-
thal. If this is the case, it is not the first time that an Aus-
trian ruler has been led to act in the supposed interests of the
State against his own better judgment. Maria Theresa, as she
herself has left on record, was led by her Minister to act like
the Prussians, at the cost of her honor, of the reputation of
the Monarchy, of her good faith, and of her religion. " Truth
and faith," she writes, "have gone forever, and with them the
chief jewel of a Sovereign and his true strength against his
fellows." It is not too late for his Majesty, Francis Joseph, to
return to the paths in which he so long walked; and the lat-
est news gives some hope that Austria is willing to submit her
proceedings to the judgment of a European Conference. Great
relief was felt at the announcement that the maladroit instru-
ment, if not instigator, of the proceedings, Baron von Aehren-
thal, had resigned, but this proved to be unfounded. This res-
ignation, however, cannot come too soon ; for the results, so far,
of his administration have been the conflict with Turkey, Ser-
via, and Montenegro, disagreements with Russia and England,
coolness with Italy, and even with Germany, on account of the

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 569

conflict at Prague between the Germans and the Czechs. The
latter made the streets of the city resound with the cries:
" Long live Servia!" "Down with Austria I'1 The govern-
ment thought it necessary to proclaim a state of siege. This
meant that the Court acts as a Court of summary jurisdiction.
The executioner, with his assistants, who were sent down for
the purpose from Vienna, must be within the precincts of the
Court. All persons whose guilt appears evident are brought
before this Court, and if the four judges composing the Court
unanimously recognize the guilt of the accused, sentence of
death must be passed and executed within at most three hours.
Appeal is inadmissible. Only after one or more have been ex-
ecuted can the Court admit extenuating circumstances in
minor cases, and inflict penal servitude for from five to twenty
years. It was in this way that Austria restored order in
Prague.

The same arbitrary and domineering spirit which has of
late become characteristic of the Dual Government is seen in
the treatment by the Hungarian ministry of the Croats who
have protested againstjan infringement of their rights. Scores
of them are in prison, and have been there for months with-
out trial, for protesting against the wrong which they have
suffered.

The ruling race in Hungary has nothing so much at heart
as the retention of the power to continue this and similar forms
of wrong- doing. The present Ministry came into power some
two years ago for the express purpose of establishing universal
suffrage. Delay after delay has taken place; but at last the
Bill has been laid before Parliament. It turns out, however,
to be little more than an elaborate attempt so to manipulate
the suffrage that the Magyars may retain the complete ascend-
ency so long possessed, but to which their numbers do not en-
title them.

Very little progress has been made
The Near East. in making definite arrangements

for the assembling of the Confer-
ence which it is desired to hold in order to take cognizance of
the rearrangement necessitated by the action of Bulgaria and
Austria. The chief offender does not wish its lawless action to
be animadverted upon, or in any way brought under discussion ;

570 CURRENT EVENTS [Jan.,

and if this refusal is persisted in, the holding of a Conference
would be a futility. If it should not be held no great regret
need be felt. The conduct of Austria has been condemned by
a more powerful tribunal than would be the assembly of a dozen
or so of the men who pass as statesmen. Public opinion has
given its verdict, the force of which, in his own case, Francis
Joseph's German cousin, William II., has lately been able to
appreciate. The last-named Emperoi has had to bow before
it; if the Austrian Emperor escapes for the moment it will be
at the cost of not receiving for the annexation of Bosnia and
Herzegovina the recognition of Europe, and [of having been the
main cause of the unsettlement which now exists and which
may lead, in the not distant future, to the dismemberment of
the variegated Empire over which he rules. This event a few
months ago would have been looked upon with regret; now
to most men of good-will it would prove a cause of rejoicing.

It is far from certain that war may not yet break out. Ser-
via and Montenegro have been wrought up to the highest pitch
of resentment by the injustice which has been done to their
race and by the obstacle which has been placed, by the annexa-
tion, to the union of all Serbs in one kingdom or Republic,
The Russian people also warmly sympathize with their fellow-
Slavs ; and even the Poles are ready to give their support.
The Russian government, however, turns a deaf ear to the call
to take up arms, and has joined with the other Powers in mak-
ing representations to Servia and in calling upon her to keep
the peace. The fact, however, that the Crown Prince of Servia
was personally received by the Tsar, although he too gave
peaceful counsels, renders it probable that the government also
sympathizes with the Serbs, although it wishes to avoid war.
Austria's only support is Germany ; although, strange to say,
Italy seems to lean in the same direction. Doubtless she is
fettered by being one of the members of the Triple Alliance.

The conduct of Russia throughout the whole of this crisis
deserves the highest praise. To her initiative is due the pro-
posal to call a Conference, and to her self-renunciation the
policy of seeking compensation at the expense of Turkey was
rejected. Austria doubtless expected that the example which
she had set would be followed, and in particular that Russia
would seek to secure the right to pass the Dardanelles. But
Russia refused to raise this question, and joined with France

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 571

and England in giving to Turkey an opportunity to establish
free institutions without suffering the loss to its prestige which
further dismemberment would have entailed. Of this oppor-
tunity Turkey has so far made good use: the Liberal govern-
ment remains in "power, and has used this power with both
moderation and firmness. Some small attempts at reaction
have been repressed, and a mutiny of palace troops quelled;
the elections have, on the whole, been quietly made.

Bulgaria has entered into direct negotiations with Turkey
with reference to the tribute for Eastern Rumelia and for the
purchase of the Oriental Railway. Although so far no result
has been secured, a fairly friendly feeling exists between the
two States. Indeed, one of the possibilities of the future is that
an alliance will be made between the newly organized and
vivified Turkey and the Balkan States to place a bar to fur-
ther aggression. Ferdinand is still, in the eyes of the world,
Prince, and not, as some of our papers style him, Tsar or even
Emperor. Emperors are not so easily made.

The ways of the Constitution in
The Middle East. Persia are very rugged, and it is

still far from certain whether it

will ever reach the goal. The Shah, with that disregard for
his plighted word which is characteristic of absolute monarchs,
notwithstanding his solemn declaration that a new Parliament
would be summoned, let the appointed day pass without caus-
ing elections to be held. It was evident that he had made up
his mind to resume the old autocratic methods. But some re-
gard had to be paid for appearances; and so a deputation, al-
leged to represent the people, was formed, which marched be-
tween two lines of executioners into his presence and besought
his Majesty to remove the ignominy from Islam and abolish
the constitution, as it was, it alleged, the work of Babism.
Affectionately responding to these loving subjects, the Shah
promised to remove the black spot from the religion of the
faithful, and to issue a rescript giving effect to their wish.

This, however, was more than even Russia could stand, and
accordingly, acting jointly with Great Britain, she made urgent
representations to the monarch, telling him very plainly that
it was necessary for the well-being of the State that the prom-
ised Parliament should be summoned and the oath to keep the

572 CURRENT EVENTS [Jan.

Constitutional Oath adhered to. The Shah yielded to these
representations for the moment; but only for the moment.
His hatred of all control made him revert to his oft- attempted
plan, and decrees were published a second time abolishing the
constitution. But this was not the end. Neither Russia nor
England would consent to be thus mocked ; and these decrees
have also been recalled, and for the time being Persia is still
looking forward to a constitution. No Parliament, however, has
been even summoned so far, and no one can tell what the future
has in store.

We cannot omit to chronicle the
The Far East. deaths both of the powerless Em-

peror of China and of the all-

powerful Dowager- Empress, especially as, in common with so
many other parts of the world, China is seeking to obtain the
blessings bestowed by constitutional rule. Its establishment after
a fixed term of years was decreed by the late Emperor, and
the most anxious question after his death was what would be
the fate of the project. The new Emperor has removed all
grounds for doubt, for he has not merely taken a name which im-
plies the advent of the new system, but has also issued a de-
cree in which he reaffirms the convocation of a Parliament and
the proclamation of a Constitution in the ninth year from the
2;th of August last. He ordains that "every one, from the
Emperor downwards, must obey the decree. The date of the
eighth year of Hsuan Tung, fixed for the convocation of Parlia-
ment, is unalterable. Let no indifference or vacillation be shown,
but let every one quicken his energies, so that the Constitution
may become a fact and tranquility prevail universally. There-
by the spirits of their late Majesties shall be comforted, and
good government be secured for countless ages."

The way in which not only the nations which have in some
degree already secured a share in their own government are
striving to make it larger and more real, but also those nations
which have hitherto been without such a share are meeting
with success in their efforts to secure it, is one of the most
remarkable features of our time, and one of the most hopeful.
Egypt and India are alike in a state of unrest, because they
think themselves deprived of its advantages. For the latter
country steps in that direction are oa the point of being taken.

MA t.-iANCH

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION

"The Catholic World" in July, 1908, purchased " nonahoe's
Magazine," of Boston, and became the owners of its subscrip-
tion list. All communications on the matter should, be addressed
to "The Catholic World," Mew York City.

THE notice of the Selected Poems of Francis Thompson, which appears on
page 541 of this number of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, may be to some of
our readers a first introductien to that poet's work. For a fuller knowledge
of his life and poems we refer such readers to three articles already published
in THE CATHOLIC WORLD: " The Poetry of Francis Thompson," by Kath-
erine Bregy, August, 1905; "Francis Thompson," by Father Cuthbert,
O.S.F.C., January, 1908; "Francis Thompson, Poet," by Thomas J. Ger-
rard, February, 1908.

* » •

Tuberculosis is one of the worst scourges that affect humankind. Its
ravages must now be known to almost every man, woman, and child of the
civilized world. For years past, and it might be said for centuries, Catholic
charity, as expressed in individual labor and sacrifice, in free hospitals and
homes, in the untiring devotion of religious communities of men and women,
has cared for incipient consumptives, has housed incurables, and advocated
such prophylactic measures, as the research of medical science little by lit-
tle discovered. The warfare against this disease is one of the most chari-
table works of the present day ; that such is the case is becoming evident to
the whole world, and tuberculosis is to be fought and opposed, and we believe
finally conquered, by the great charities, the methods of public instruction,
the aroused sentiment against it, which are being carried on by many agen-
cies to-day. The movement cannot but help reaching beyond the cure for
the prevention ot tuberculosis alone; it must go to the cure of those great
moral evils that are oftentimes the cause of tuberculosis, and particularly the
cure of the drink evil. Our day is witnessing the blossoming of this work
against the spread of tuberculosis, the seeds of which were planted by sacred
hands centuries ago. Every effort t© fight and to kill the dread disease has
our hearty support. Therefore, we wish to give this word of encouragement
to the national work now being promoted by the Red Cross Society, and
which, during the month of December, has taken the form of putting Red
Cress stamps on all packages and letters mailed during the Christmas season.
The use of that Red Cross stamp will mean help and consolation to many
suffering human beings, and health and strength to many yet unborn. It is
well to teach the young the joy of giving, even if it be but a little, and the
generous spirit of Catholic youth in this matter has been happily evidenced
in the number of letters addressed to our Uncle Ned of THE LEADER, bear-
ing, besides the necessary government stamp, the one-cent stamp that means

574 THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION [Jan.,

•

a fight against tuberculosis. The work of this crusade, the labor during the
past years and to-day of Catholic charities and Catholic institutions in this re-
gard, certainly deserve to be recorded, and we hope to present a paper on
the subject in the not-distant future through the pages of THE CATHOLIC

WORLD.

* * *

Since its organization, about five years ago, the Catholic Educational
Association of the United States has stimulated much useful discussion and
published valuable reports by which colleges and schools may study the best
standards of progress. The aim of the directors is to enlist the interest and
co-operation of all connected with the work of Catholic education in the
United States.

It is a sacred duty of Catholic educators to maintain with persistent
vigor the principle of liberty of education, and to safeguard the right of
Catholic educational work to an equal standing before the law. This is not
only a matter of our own self-preservation, but a service we owe to the
Republic. In pursuance of this duty we need the united support and influ-
ence of every Catholic educational institution, and of every pastor, teacher,
and layman who has the welfare of Catholic education at heart. We need
to stand as a united body, to keep the correct statement of our aims and our
principles before the public, and to maintain our rights with courage and de-
termination.

The report of the meeting held July, 1908, at Cincinnati, published by
the Secretary General — the Rev. F. W. Howard, 1651 East Main Street,
Columbus, Ohio — contains over two hundred pages devoted to problems of
the Parish School, and is entitled to rank as one of the best contributions for
the reading public. It has many pages of abiding interest for every Catholic
family, as well as for the teachers and managers of schools. The discussion
on the method of teaching religion, between the Rev. Thomas E. Shields,
Ph.D., and the Rev. P. C. Yorke, D.D., should attract much attention

among expert catechists.

» » *

The d'Youville Reading Circle, of Ottawa, continues to flourish, and has
presented many brilliant programmes within the past year. On a recent oc-
casion Edward Kylie, of Toronto, presented a study of Francis Thompson.

* * *

Apropos of the articles now being published in THE CATHOLIC WORLD,
which point out what an unhistorical caricature M. Anatole France's Life of
Joan of Arc is of the Maid of Orleans, the following recent despatch from
Rome will be ot interest to our readers: "There was an impressive cere-
mony at the Vatican upon the occasion of the reading of the Beatification
Decrees conferred upon Joan of Arc and thirty-six French missionaries who
met the death of martyrs in China. The reading of the decrees took place
in the presence of the Holy Father and many high prelates. The decree in
the case of Joan of Arc recited the details of three miraculous cures in the
years 1891, 1893, and 1900. Following the invocation to Joan of Arc, Pope
Pius delivered an address extolling the faith of Joan. « She was called by
God to defend her country,' said his Holiness, <and accomplished a feat that
the whole world believed to be impossible. That which is impossible t© man

1 909-] BOOKS RECEIVED 575

alone and unaided, can be accomplished with the help of God. The power
of the evil one is in the feebleness of Christians.'

''Turning to the French prelates, the Pope continued: 'When you re-
turn to France, tell your fellow-citizens if they love France they should love
God, the faith, and the mother Church.1"

* * *

We have before called the attention of our readers to the excellent work
of the Christ Child Society. The Eighteenth Annual Report of the Society,
just issued, gives us an edifying account of the work accomplished during
the past year by its seven hundred and fifty members. The helpful influence
of that work reaches into every channel of child life, for the object of the so-
ciety is to aid and instruct needy children. Its efforts are devoted to the
practical work of providing complete and comfortable outfits for poor chil-
dren, making them happy by suitable gifts at Christmas time, and giving
them an opportunity of a holiday in the country during the warm summer
months. The Society has also branched out into settlement work. In
Washington, for instance, eight different sections of work have been organ-
ized and classes formed to meet the needs of children in each special locality.
The present Report deals with relief and settlement work, and shows a
marked development in both these fields of charitable endeavor. Over
twelve hundred of the poor children of the District of Columbia were aided
and instructed by the Christ Child Society during the past year. We trust
that the Society's good, effective work will bear still more abundant fruits in
the years to come.

BOOKS RECEIVED

JOHN LANE COMPANY, New York :

Orthodoxy. By Gilbert K. Chesterton. Pp. ix.-299. Price $1.50.
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York :

Out of Doors in the Holy Land. By Henry Van Dyke. 111. Pp. xii.-325. Price $1.50 net.
CHRISTIAN PRESS ASSOCIATION, New York :

The Young Converts ; or, Memories of the Three Sisters, Debbie, Helen, and Anna Barlow.

By Rt. Rev. L. de Goesbriand. Pp. 304. Price 75 cents net.
E. P. DUTTON & Co., New York :

The Inner Life of the United States. By Count Vay de Vaya and Luskod. Pp. 443.

Price $4 net.
HARPER & BROTHERS, New York :

An Immortal Soul. A Novel. By W. H. Mallock. Pp.474. Price $1.50.
THE GRAFTON PRESS, New York :

Early Christian Hymns. By Daniel Joseph Donahoe. Pp. 265. Price $2 net.
ISAAC PITMAN & SONS, New York :

The Life of Sir Isaac Pitman (Inventor of Phonography). By Alfred Baker. Pp. xi.-3Q2.

Price $2 net.
FORDHAM UNIVERSITY PRESS, New York:

Li/e and Letters of Henry van Rensselaer, S.J. By Rev. E. P. Spillane, S.J. Pp. vii.-

293.
PAFRAETS BOOK COMPANY, New York :

Christ Among the Cattle. A Sermon. By Frederick Rowland Marvin. Pp. 58.

576 BOOKS RECEIVED [Jan., 1909.]

GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE, Washington, D. C. :

JP#<w* o/M* Commissioner oj Education for the Year Ended June 30, 1907. Vol. I. Pp. vu.-

522.
CATHOLIC EDUCATIONAL ASSOCIATION, Columbus, Ohio:

Report of the Proceedings and Addresses of the Educational Association. Pp. 480.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY, Boston, Mass. :

The sEneid of Virgil. Translated into English Verse by Theodore C. Williams. Pp.
xxix.-456. Price $1.50. By the Christmas Fire. Essays. By Samuel McChord
Crothers. Pp.226. Price $1.25 net.
L C. PAGE & Co., Boston, Mass. :

O-Heart-San. The Story of a Japanese Girl. By Helen E. Haskell. 111. Pp. 129.

Price $i. Old Edinburgh. By Frederick W. Watkeys. 111. 2Vols. Price $3.
NICHOLAS M. WILLIAMS COMPANY, Boston, Mass.:

A Brief History of the Archdiocese of Boston. By Rev. M. J. Scanlan. Pp. 60. Paper.

Price 10 cents.
JOHN JOSEPH McVEY, Philadelphia, Pa. :

Sermons. By Rev. Reuben Parsons, D.D. Pp.462. Price $1.50 net.

B. HERDER, St. Louis, Mo.:

Bibliotheca Ascetica Mystica. Meditations. Vol. III. By Ven. P. L. de Ponte, S.J.

Price $1.45 net.
THE YOUNG CHURCHMAN COMPANY, Milwaukee, Wis. :

Pro-Romanism and the Tractarian Movement. By Rt. Rev. C. C. Grafton. Pp. 72.

Paper.
THE MOORE LANGEN COMPANY, Terre Haute, Ind. :

Benoni. A Christmas Play. By M. B. le Brun. Pp. 16. Price 15 cents. Music, 5

cents extra.
THE AVE MARIA PRESS, Notre Dame, Ind.:

The Lepers of Molokai. By Charles Warren Stoddard. New Edition. Enlarged. Pp.

138. Price 75 cents.
CATHOLIC TRUTH SOCIETY, London, England:

The Divine Liturgy of Our Father Among the Saints. John Chrysostom. By Adrian For-
tesque. Pp. 131. Price 25 cents net. Our Faith. By Cecil Lylburn. Pp.88. Price
25 cents net. The Catholic Church and Science. Price 40 cents net. Workingmen as
Evangelists. Our Lady of Lour des. A Dialogue on Socialism. Howard Wilton, Wan-
derer. Ven. George Haydock. The Use of Reason. A Study in Bigotry. Pastor
Chiniquy. Rome and Constantinople. The Great Supper. The Making of a Saint.
The Religion of Early Rome. The Religion of Modern Judaism. Pamphlets. Price 5
cents net.
GARY & Co., London, England:

Mass of St. Benedict for Voices in' Unison. By Richard B. Mason. Priceu.net. Missa
Fidelium. The Common of the Holy Mass set to Music for Two Unison Choirs and Organ.
or Harmonium. By Samuel Gregory Ould. Price is. 6d. net.
THE ANGELUS COMPANY, Norwood, London, England :

The Catholic Diary Jor 1909. Pp. xvi.-384. Price is. ^d. net.
P. LETHIELLEUX, Paris, France :

Le Plan de la Franc- Maconnerie. Par Lean Dehon. Pp. 107. Du Dilletantisme a V Action.
Etudes Contemporaines . Par C. Lecigne. Pp. 338. La Presse Contra I' Eglise. Par
L. Cl. Delfour. Pp. 404. M. Loisy et la Critique des Evangiles. Par F. Jubaru. Pp.
96. Price francs 0.60.
PLON-NOURRIT ET CIE, Paris, France :

Insujfisance des Philosophies de I' Intuition. Par Clodius Piat. Pp. 316. Price $ francs.
G. BEAUCHESNE, Paris, France :

Les Theories de M. Loisy Expose et Critique. Par M. Lepin. Pp. 379. Price 3 francs 50.
Le Sacerdoce et le Sacrifice de Notre Seigneur Jesus Christ. Par J. Grimal, S.M. Pp.
xxiii.-405. Price 3 francs 50. La Theologie de Bellarmin. ParJ.de la Serviere, S.J.
Pp. xxvii.-764. Price 8 francs.
V. LECOFFRE, Paris:

L Angleterre Chretienne Avant les Normans. Par Dom Cabrol.
ADMINISTRACION DE RAZON Y FE, Madrid:

Los Espousales y el Matrimonio Segun la, Novissima Disciplina Comentario Canonico-
Moral Sorre el Decreto " Ne Temere." Por el R. P. Juan B. Ferreres, S.J. Price 2. 50 pe-
setas. Las Religiosas Segun la. Disciplina Vigente Comentarios Canonico-Merales.
Por el R. P. Juan B. Ferreres, S.J. Price 2 50 pesetas.
GUSTAVO GILI, Barcelona, Spain :

Mis Canciones. Por el P. R del Valle Ruiz. P. 189. Vida de Santa Teresa de Jesus. Por
el P. Francisco de Ribera. Nueva Edition. Pp. xxxii.-666. Tractatus de Vera Re
ligione. Por el Joanne Muncunill. Pp. viii.-4i7.

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. LXXXVIII. FEBRUARY, 1909. No. 527.

THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM.

BY BERTRAM C. A. WINDLE, LL.D., F.R.S.

PO person can have given any attention to early
Irish history without having discovered that in
the days when Christianity first exercised its
sway over the island, there grew up a very re-
markable and complete University system which
attracted to the scholars of the Western land disciples from
almost every part of Europe. In the eighth century her schools
were famous throughout the civilized world, and Alcuin, who
was the instructor of Charlemagne, in his life of the celebrated
Willibrord, mentions the many years which he had spent in
Ireland, inter eximios simul pics rcligionis et sacrce lectionis
magistros. Troublous times came upon the land ; first the Danes
and afterwards the Normans sacked the university cities, de-
stroyed the libraries, and produced so disturbed a state of af-
fairs in the country as to destroy all that fair fabric of educa-
tion which former generations of scholars had built up. It is
not until 1311 that we hear of the first university established,
like most of the mediaeval universities, by Papal Bull. It was
the first of several thus established, but none of them seems to
have had any success, perhaps could hardly have looked for
success in the existing condition of affairs.

We have to come to the end of the sixteenth century be-

IN THB STATE OF NEW YORK.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 37

578 THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM [Feb.,

fore we arrive at the foundation of an institution of university
rank which has had any permanence. This institution is, of
course, Trinity College, Dublin, or the University of Dublin,
for it is known by both names, a foundation of Queen Eliza-
beth's, erected at that time juxta Dublin, though it is now al-
most in the center of the city, on the ground once occupied by
the monastery of All Hallows, which had been suppressed, like
all the other religious houses of the country, by Henry VIII.
or some of the purloiners of church property who followed him
upon the throne of England. There is some conflict of opinion
as to whether this University in its first inception was intended
to be of a proselytizing character or not. Professor Dixon, one
of the most recent historians of the University, who naturally
looks at the matter from the Protestant point of view, says
that it was not, and urges the facts that Catholics contributed
liberally to the funds of the original endowment, that no re-
ligious tests were enforced, and that it was not necessary for
Fellows to become Protestant ministers, as arguments in sup-
port of his view. Others claim that any gift coming from
Elizabeth and her advisers to Ireland must, of necessity, have
been of the nature of the house of Troy, and contend that the
institution of this seat of learning was only an item in the cam-
paign against the religion of the people.

After all, this discussion is only of academic interest, for
no one denies that at a somewhat later date, in the times of
James the First, that meanest and worst of men and of sov-
ereigns, and still more in the days of his unfortunate son,
Charles the First, a definite attack on the Catholic religion was
opened ; and in the latter reign, when Laud became Chancel-
lor of the University, new Statutes were promulgated which
definitely bound up the University to the established Protest-
ant Church, although as Bedell, himself a Protestant and Pro-
vost of Trinity College (1627), declared "the island was almost
entirely Popish, and its Protestant establishment had as little
effect on the religion of the people as a chariot, lashed upon
the deck of a ship, has in directing her course."

Ireland, at least Catholic Ireland, had, however, for many
years little time to think of university matters. She was en-
gaged in a life and death struggle for existence, and was obliged
to let such matters as higher education rest until the tyranny
was overpast.

1909.] THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM 579

After Catholic Emancipation had been granted the natural
love of the people for learning led to a demand for university
education suitable to the ideas of the majority of the inhabi-
tants of the island, and it became clear that something would
have to be done to meet that demand. The first attempt was
the foundation of the Queen's Colleges and the Queen's Uni-
versity in which they centered. As regards the former, now
that they are disappearing, or becoming transformed by Mr.
Birrell's legislation, it may be said that, though more than un-
fortunate as to the time of their birth, they were not conceived
in anything like the narrow spirit as has often been supposed.
Every similar institution in the three kingdoms at that time
was tied up to some religious organization. Owing to the
very nature of things, Ireland being bound to a Protestant
country, like England, by the Act of Union, it would not
have been possible to have passed a bill through Parliament
uniting the new university to the Catholic Church as the
English universities were to the Anglican, and to have united
it to the Protestant establishment would have meant its en-
trance into the world still-born. Hence the statesmen of that
day launched it as a non-sectarian institution and earned for
their bantlings the name of the " Godless Colleges," given to
it, by the way, not by O'Connell, as many incorrectly imagine,
but by a true-blue English Protestant Tory. Even as it was,
it was much less non-sectarian or non- religious, to speak more
accurately, than university institutions have since become; in-
deed, in some respects, it permitted more recognition of reli-
gion than is contemplated by the measure which has just passed
through Parliament. But at what a moment did these unfor-
tunate colleges emerge ! It was at the very time of the Dur-
ham Letter, of the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill, of the absurd and
undignified fuss and disturbance which one reads of now with
so much astonishment and which led to such a contemptible
conclusion.

It is little to be wondered at that Irish bishops should,
at such a moment, have hesitated to trust their flocks to in-
stitutions not only set up, but also largely to be controlled
by such a government. Yet even under these circumstances
there were many who thought that the new institutions should
have been taken hold of and made use of from the beginning,
and a vote, at the celebrated Synod of Thurles, in favor of

580 THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM [Feb.,

condemning the colleges was only carried by a majority of
one. It was, however, sufficient, for of course the Roman con-
demnation followed, and though Catholic students have, as a
matter of necessity, always more or less frequented these col-
leges, they have done so without the snaile of the Church upon
them and with, until very recent years, no regular assistance
in the nature of ecclesiastical supervision. Here again it is
useless to linger over ancient history and to ask what might
have happened had the bishops really taken up and worked
the colleges of Cork and Galway as they were undoubtedly
intended to do by the government which introduced the m-easure.
Suffice it to say that such a line of action was not pursued and
that the demand for higher education for Catholics remained
still ungratified.

Mr. Gladstone's attempt at legislation, which upset one of
the most powerful Liberal Ministries which had ever existed,
must be remembered by many and cannot now be detailed.
Nor need time be spent over that specious and hurried piece
of legislation which destroyed the Queen's and produced the
Royal University. So much has been said about the latter
institution, and so much of what has been said has been un-
favorable, that one hesitates to urge any arguments in its
favor. It is undoubtedly true that it has debauched the pub-
lic ideal of a university by leading persons to imagine that
the obtaining of degrees is the be-all and end-all of such an
institution, and that the way in which they have been studied
for is of secondary, if indeed of any, importance. This is a
false attitude towards university matters which it will take
some time to change, though it will ultimately be changed in
a much more radical manner than the similar attitude in Eng-
land, engendered by the London University. But, in its favor
it may be urged that it did permit the Catholic University
College — founded by the great Cardinal Newman, but then al-
most, one would have said, on its death-bed — to recover and,
under the fostering care of the Jesuit Fathers, to carry on a work
of great importance for the Catholic youth of the country.
This was effected by a roundabout method of endowment
which was certainly never understood by the English Parlia-
ment when the Bill was passed, but which did, as a fact, in
some measure finance the Catholic College, though to a wholly
inadequate extent

1909.] THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM 581

Still it remained perfectly obvious to all interested in the
matter that the condition of affairs then set up could not be
permanent. I remember a distinguished Protestant member of
the Senate of the Royal University saying to me, not more
than two years after its incorporation, that he expected that
the whole concern would be handed over to the Catholic
College before five years were over, and heartily approving of
such a course. It has taken a good deal more than five years
to accomplish what my friend foresaw, but in the long run his
prophecy has come true, or seems likely to come true, for the
site of the new Dublin College has not as yet been made pub-
licly known.

One of the worst features of the condition of affairs just
described has been that every educational interest in Ireland
has been kept in a state of unrest. " We know what we are
but we know not what we may be," might have been, and in-
deed was, the cry of every place of higher education. Each
new Chief Secretary — and on the average we have a new one
every eighteen months — had his own nostrum for the settle-
ment of the question. At one time Trinity was to be brought
into what was pompously and foolishly alluded to as a "Na-
tional University," and immediately the Protestant drums be-
gan to beat and the Protestant forces to march up and down
in and out of Parliament in defence of what they call " non-
sectarian" education, which, being interpreted, means education
more or less in consonance with the doctrines of the Protest-
ant Church. At other times other policies were adumbrated ;
but always there was some good reason, or so it was alleged,
for doing nothing and the university question, in spite of the
soft words of Chief Secretaries, Scotch or English — of course
we never have such a thing as an Irish Chief Secretary — re-
mained unsettled and unsettling.

Mr. Bryce, on the very verge of leaving our island for
America, "nailed," as Mr. Balfour wittily put it, "his flag to
another man's mast and ran away." In other words, he pro-
pounded a policy, which almost anybody could have told him
was most unlikely to succeed, and declared that it was the
only policy which the government was prepared to favor. It
was the policy of including Trinity College, and it led at once
to the uproar which any person acquainted with the country
might and would have predicted. And as a result, after a year

582 THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM [Feb.,

of consideration, Mr. Bryce's successor, Mr. Birrell, introduced
and, after weary and protracted opposition and obstruction,
carried to a triumphant conclusion, a measure the very reverse
of that which had been proffered on the eve of his arrival in
Ireland and proffered as the only measure which the govern-
ment were prepared to put their seal to.

It is this measure which I propose to describe in the re-
mainder of this article, and I will try to explain the bearing
which its principal provisions have upon the future of university
education in this country and upon the Catholic demand that
it should be in accordance with the faith which is professed
by the vast majority of Irish people.

In the first place, then, comes the question of the method
of government of the university and its colleges, for it was on
this rock that all previous schemes of university education
have come to grief. As to Trinity College, that institution
suffers under the most antiquated and impossible system which
the mind of man is capable of conceiving.

"We're governed by seven worthy men
Who wise men once have been,"

says an old college song and, as a matter of fact, the college
and university are governed entirely by the seven oldest Fel-
lows. At the time when the college had good livings, in the
shape of parishes under the then Established Church, to give
away, many Fellows were contented to be thus provided for,
and promotion was more rapid than at present. But all this
was changed by the Disestablishment Act, and Fellows now
remain in possession of their Fellowships until they die. The
result is that no man ever becomes a Senior Fellow until he
is over seventy years of age, and the government of Trinity
College has become a perquisite of senility, the purest example
of a gerontocracy in the world. One used to hear from certain
quarters complaints because the Catholic Hierarchy had not taken
possession of Trinity College when its endowments and posi-
tions were thrown open to all denominations by the Act of
1873. There is at least this reply possible that, even if such
a policy had been entered upon, and if every Junior Fellow-
ship had been gained from that time till now by Catholic
candidates, still there would not at this present year of grace

1909.] THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM 583

have been a single Catholic on the governing body, the body
which has the sole and entire control of everything in the Uni-
versity and College, nor would any have been likely to occupy
such a position for fifteen or twenty years to come.

As to the Queen's Colleges, the government of those insti-
tutions was in the hands of the professoriate of each college,
bound, however, hand and foot by Castle red tape. But the
professors of the colleges were all appointed by the Crown,
and so was the president of each college ; and it was, there-
fore, obviously possible that the professoriate of a college
situated in a Catholic part of the country might be or become
wholly Protestant and even violently anti- Catholic. As a mat-
ter of fact Cork has always had a Catholic president and a
majority of its staff at this moment are Catholics, but Galway,
situated in Catholic Connaught, has had only twice — and, in the
aggregate, for a period of not more than three of its sixty
years of existence — a Catholic for president, and by far the
larger number of its professors and lecturers are non- Catholics.

Belfast, of course, has always had a Presbyterian president
— no other is conceivable in that city — and though it has oc-
casionally had a sporadic Catholic on its staff, there is at pres-
ent no representative of that Faith connected with the college.

It is obvious, from what has been said, that Belfast and
Galway must always have had overwhelmingly Protestant gov-
erning bodies. Cork has a governing body on which Catholics
are in a majority, but such has only recently been the case,
and might not continue. It is obvious that this state of affairs
is not one which could be looked upon with any very great
favor by the authorities of the Catholic Church.

When a new system had to be constructed it was clear that
the method of government must be one which would be Catho-
lic in its composition, whilst at the same time it was also clear
that by no legislative enactment could this be declared totidem
verbis. However, there were plenty of precedents for the line
of action which was followed, a line which it may confidently
be expected will meet both the difficulties indicated above. All
the newer English universities have governing bodies formed
in part of members of the teaching staff; and in part, in-
deed largely, of representatives of various public bodies, such
as city and county councils. The general tendency of things in
England being to slur over religious questions and exclude

584 THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM [Feb.

them from educational institutions, the governing bodies, which
represent the general feeling through these representatives of
public bodies, have as a rule kept the universities which they
control non-religious. Ireland, however, is a Catholic country,
and any just representation of public bodies, at least in the
southern and western parts of the island, must necessarily be
largely, if not entirely Catholic. Or, to put it in other words,
a governing body, constructed on similar lines, would be in
Birmingham largely Nonconformist and in Cork largely Catho-
lic, and this not because of any special legislative enactment
towards that end, but because in each case the governing body
more or less accurately represented the general sense of the
district. It would be difficult, therefore, for the most ardent
Nonconformist or the greatest opponent of Rome to object to
a system in Ireland which was already in full vogue in Eng-
land, and operating in the direction which he desired, because
the introduction of that system in Ireland would lead to the
constitution of a directorate on which Catholics would have a
majority. It was on these lines that Mr. Birrell settled the
question of the governing body. The University of the South
and West, and the three colleges attached to it, will each of
them have nominated governing bodies which will hold office
for the first few years, and on each of these Catholics have a
substantial majority. After the expiration of that first period
these bodies will be replaced by others composed partly of
teachers, partly of representatives of the graduates, and partly
of other persons appointed by the great elective corporations,
whether city or county. It may be concluded that the great
majority of these representatives will be Catholic as long as
Ireland is Catholic, and by this means the problem of providing
the bodies in question with a management at least not hostile
to Catholic ideas seems to have been solved. But it was neces-
sary to exclude Belfast from this arrangement, for in that city
any such thing as a governing body which was even moderately
Catholic, and still more any connection with a university con-
trolled by a Catholic majority, would have been matter which
would have caused every Orange drum in the North to com-
mence to beat.

Hence, Belfast has been separated off from the other col-
leges and erected into an independent university, with its own
completely distinct governing body. Rather a curious and sig-

1909.] THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM 585

nificant point arises here and throws a bright light on the dif-
ferent amount of tolerance for the views of others which is shown
in the Catholic South and in the Protestant North. In Cork
there is a governing body, of which one- third is Protestant
and two-thirds Catholic. Now the population of the county
shows a proportion of nine Catholics to every one Protestant.
So that the Protestant minority cannot certainly complain of
unfair treatment, yet no Catholic, so far as I am aware, has
urged that undue generosity has been shown to those who are
not of his faith. In Belfast, however, where the proportion of
Catholics to Protestants in the population is far greater than
that of Protestants to Catholics in Cork, only one member out
of a governing body of thirty-five belongs to the Catholic
Church. I note this curious discrepancy and pass on.

Two universities then are to take the place ©f the former
Royal University, which is to disappear entirely ; and of those
two universities one is to have its seat in Belfast and to con-
sist of the former Queen's College in that city alone, the other
is to have its seat in Dublin and to possess three colleges, one
in Cork, one in Galway, and one — a new college — in Dublin.
This introduces us to a kind of university unknown, I believe,
in America — the Federal University. It is not a type which,
so far, has met with any conspicuous success, yet it is a type
of which the English mind — ever prone to the middle path — is
very fond. Napoleon, that arch-centralizer — out of the ruins of
the old universities left after the Revolution — constructed the
University of France and attacked to it a number of colleges
erected in the cities which had formerly been the possessors of
•niversities. It is admitted by all that the result was a com-
plete sterilization of education, and worse: a serious degrada-
tion of national learning and intelligence so great as to have
led some of the acutest French observers to attribute the dis-
asters of 1870 very largely to the effects of this fatal legisla-
tion. Of recent years it has been entirely reversed and a num-
ber of independent universities take the place of the affiliated
colleges which formerly existed. In England it seems to have
been thought a happy solution to say to a number of cities of
different ambitions and perhaps separated by considerable dis-
tances from one another: "Universities cannot be given to all of
you, but we will lump the lot of you together and make you a
university, and you must shake down together as well as you

586 THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM [Feb.,

can." The first attempt of the kind was the Queen's Univer-
sity in Ireland ; and it really did seem as if that university
would achieve some sort of a success, when it was ruthlessly
slain, instead of being modified as it ought to have been and
might easily have been. Then followed the Victoria Univer-
sity, in which were united Manchester, Liverpool, and Leeds.
That institution managed to hold together for about twenty
years and then it resolved itself into its constituent atoms, each
of which became a separate and independent university. There
still exists the University of Wales, which contains the Colleges
of Cardiff, Bangor, and Aberystwith, and to the list is now to
be added the new university in Ireland. It is not likely to re-
main long as it is now constituted, for there has always been
a distinct and unmistakable demand in Cork for a separate
university, and it cannot be doubted that the people oi the
Province of Munster, if they show that they really mean bus-
iness, will shortly be rewarded by receiving those distinct
powers and privileges which alone can bring them complete sat-
isfaction and the full advantages of higher education.

Meantime, in this particular university, the federal yoke is
to be of a much lighter nature than has heretofore been known
in any university of the class. In previous federal universities
the curriculum in each college has been the same and has been
determined by the general governing body, and the examina-
tions have also been the same for all the colleges, though all
the teachers in the different colleges have taken part in them
Quite different is to be the state of affairs in the new venture.
Each college is to be at liberty to present to the Senate of the
university its own schemes of courses for degrees, and the uni-
versity is to recognize and approve them if they appear to be
of sufficient breadth and standard. It is thus quite possible
that there may be avenues to a degree, or even degrees, in one
of the colleges which may not exist in the others. It natu-
rally follows from this that independent examinations for the
different degrees will be held in each college, and here the
watchdog nature of the university comes in under the pro-
vision that it is to appoint extern examiners, independent of
any of the colleges, who will co-operate with the professors in
each college, conduct the examinations with them, and decide
who are to pass and who are to be rejected. And in addition
to this— though it is not set down in the charters— there can

1909.] THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM 587

be no doubt that the degrees obtained in each college will be
conferred in that college upon those who have gained them.
In a word, each college will really be an almost independent
university and the only function of the university body will be
that of co-ordination and supervision, a supervision mainly di-
rected towards the maintenance of an approximately identical
standard for the degrees of the various colleges. In the mat-
ter of the election of a president, a professor, or an independ-
ent lecturer, the university will also have a voice. When any
of these personages is to be elected the final decision will lie
in the hands of the governing body of the university, but that
body has not a free choice amongst the various candidates
who may present themselves. The university is bound to take
the opinion of the college, in which the vacancy exists, on the
situation, and the college may if it chooses — and one may feel
quite sure that it will choose — send up three names from
amongst those of the candidates. One of these three the uni-
versity must choose. Thus, if there are ten candidates for a
post, the college has the absolute power of vetoing seven of
them, and it may be presumed that it will set the other three
in order of preference. It may also, one hopes and expects,
be assumed that the university will have sufficient confidence
in the judgment of the college to accept its choice and elect
the dignissimus of the terna, unless there is very clear and un-
mistakable evidence that something in the nature of a "job" is
being attempted. It is obvious that a great deal of the success
of the new venture must depend upon the consideration shown
by one college for the views of another, and one hopes that
peace and harmony and a general desire to assist rather than
to hamper one another will be the prevailing instincts of the
new governing bodies. Any person who peruses the Act of
Parliament setting up the new universities or their charters, or
those of the colleges, will recognize that the papers in question
only set up a skeleton which has to be clothed with flesh in
the shape of minor provisions or statutes. These last are to
be the work of two statutory commissions set up by the Act,
one for Belfast and one for Dublin. Their labors have but just
commenced and must necessarily be spread over some consid-
erable period of time, since there are many vexed and difficult
questions which they will be called upon to settle. Until their
work is done and approved by Parliament, the new institutions

588 THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM [Feb.,

cannot get to work or even enjoy the modest increases of in-
come which are promised under the new arrangement.

Three points remain for notice which are not wholly satis-
factory in their character In the first place no one is to be
allowed to build a chapel for the worship of God in the grounds
of any college. With every college in Oxford and Cambridge
provided with a chapel in which Anglican services are con-
ducted, such a provision seems to be peculiarly unfair and
even insulting, but it is one of several things which had to be
accepted if a measure even as favorable as this was to be
extracted from a Parliament largely dominated by Noncon-
formists.

Another point — a more serious one, too — is the exclusion
of professors or teachers of theology from the academic coun-
cils and from boards of studies. From this it will be at
once understood that no Chair of Theology may be set up in
the university or any of its colleges from public funds. But
the Act expressly provides that such Chairs may be set up
by private munificence, if universities or colleges wish to ac-
cept them, and that under these circumstances the appoint-
ments to the Chairs and the conditions of tenure, etc., may
be such as are laid down by the founders. But — and this
is the important point — no such professor is to be allowed to
sit with professors of other subjects in the academic councils
of the colleges or of the university. Why it should have been
thought that the presence of a few theological professors
would so far overawe their secular brethren as to render them
incapable of taking a fair view of educational problems is
hard to say, but the provision is there and is another of the
things which Ireland has had to endure in order to obtain
what she has obtained from a Nonconformist Parliament.

Finally, there is the very inadequate provision of money
which has been made for the various institutions, Belfast receiv-
ing by far the best treatment in this matter. The amount which
is to be granted for new buildings in Cork, for example, is hope,
lessly inadequate, and, unless it is supplemented by outside
gifts, must greatly hamper the progress of that college towards
full university powers. The same may be said, with perhaps
even greater truth, about the college in Dublin. For this,
however, it is no business of mine to plead, but I venture to
take the opportunity afforded to me when writing this article

1909.] THE IRISH UNIVERSITY SYSTEM 589

to appeal to exiled Munstermen, blessed with worldly goods,
not to forget the college of the province to which they be-
longed. Already Mr. and Mrs. William O'Brien have promised
their entire fortune to it, and it is hoped and believed that
arrangements will shortly be made by which fifty thousand
pounds will shortly be available from this source, a truly
princely gift, the most generous which has ever been made
for educational purposes in the history of Ireland, for most of
the gifts of importance made to the University of Dublin were
made from other people's money*, a cheap and easy method of
endowment, now fortunately impossible of execution.

But much larger sums than this will be required if the
colleges are really to effect all that they might and, let us
hope, will, and these sums must come from private generosity.
The spring of this generosity for university purposes has long
been dry, and no wonder, considering the uncertainty in which
everything connected with Irish universities has been so long
wrapped. Now that uncertainty has been dispelled ; the coun-
try has been provided with a university and colleges which
Catholics may freely enter and freely use, and it may be hoped
that the spring of generosity may once more burst forth
and provide the colleges of the new Dublin University with
the means necessary to carry out their work and to supply
the youth of the country, Catholic and Protestant, with those
chances of instruction which private benevolence has so lav-
ishly provided for the youth of America and is now providing
for the youth of England.

IN THE SIERRA MADRE.

BY CHRISTIAN REID.

VIII.

|WO days later, as the day was closing into evening,
the party made their last camp. They had come
down, by way of many a long and tedious de-
scent, from the Sierra. Its mighty heights, sis-
ters of the sky and the clouds, its green woods
and singing waters lay behind them. They had descended to
the comparatively tame elevation of seven or eight thousand
feet above the sea, and into one of those great valleys which
in their extent and productiveness are among the marvels of
Mexico. There are many such valleys, very Arcadias of beauty
and cultivation, in this fair land, but none more beautiful, more
fertile, or more perfectly cultivated than that which extends
from the foot of the Sierra eastward to where the little city of
Santiago Papasquiaro lies like a pearl on the banks of the river
of the same name. It is this crystal river which, flowing in
bright, swift current through the valley's length, gives its wa-
ters to irrigate the lands that bear such bounteous harvests, and
it was on a knoll rising abruptly from its banks that the last
camp was made.

It was altogether different in its surroundings from any of
their other camps. Even the night before they had been many
thousand feet nearer heaven, on a pine- clad highland, where
in the morning frost had lain white, and where the tall trees
and solemn hills were their only neighbors. But here cultivated
levels stretched around them, the village of a great hacienda
on the other side of the river made a perfect picture, with its
Oriental-like mass of flat-roofed houses, on each side of the
wide pastoral expanse soft azure hills rolled up, and across the
western horizon the great Sierra lay, a distant massive wall,
robed in imperial purple. Above this wall the sun was sinking,
with much resplendency of color, and the beautiful stream, very
broad and shallow here as it flowed directly across the valley,

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 591

was glowing with the reflection of the red and golden splendors,
while in the east, pale and soft, hung the silver moon. Proces-
sions of women were passing across the stretch of white sand and
stones which lay between the village and the river, to fill their
water-jars at the stream. A little lower a group, kneeling on
the bank, were washing clothes. Some burros came down to
the water to drink. A soft wind breathed out of the golden
west, fresh from the majestic heights, and over the whole scene
was spread an ineffable charm of pastoral repose and wide
space.

" It is not the Sierra," said Miss Bering dispassionately, as
seated on the hillside, which was starred over with yellow flow-
ers, she looked at the picture. " But it is a typical Mexican
scene, which means that it is very beautiful. I should find it
charming if my heart were not yonder, on the wild green heights
we have left. I am glad that we are facing the Sierra in our last
camp ; but I feel as if this river flowing below us were a di-
viding line between two worlds."

Trescott, who was seated beside her, did not answer im-
mediately. To him that river, shining with the tints of the sky,
seemed a dividing line, not only between two worlds, but be-
tween two lives. Which should he choose — that which lay yon-
der in the purple Sierra, or that which awaited him if he re-
turned to the world where he had been born ? Until now he
had not known how difficult the choice would be.

" We may think of it as a dividing line between many
things," he said presently, trying to speak lightly. " Or, we
may dream that it is the river of life of the old allegories — it's
lovely enough just now to be — and that we have reached the
farther shore, where it is very appropriate that we should find
the ground covered with immortelles."

"Do you call these immortelles ?" asked Eleanor. She had
gathered some of the flowers, which she was arranging together
as she spoke. " I should call them golden daisies."

" It is a pretty name at all events ; and I am not botanist
enough to dispute it. But to my fancy they remain immor-
telles— the flower that does not die. I have an idea that they
can be preserved very perfectly. Will you give me one to try ? "

She might have reminded him that they were growing all
around him, and that he had but to extend his hand to take
as many as he liked, but instead she gave him two.

592 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

" One/1 she said, " is for your experiment in preservation,
the other is for another experiment. You know the old fash-
ion of telling fortunes by the petals of the daisy? Pluck off
the petals, saying alternately on each : ' To go — to stay ' ; and
let us see what fate will bid you do."

Smiling a little, he obeyed. "To go — to stay"; he re-
peated monotonously, as the petals dropped one by one from
his fingers. "To go— to stay— to go—" The last fluttered to
the earth, and he looked up at Miss Bering.

" The oracle echoes yourself," he said.

"Of course"; she replied. "Bid^you think I would give
you a flower which would answer differently from myself ?
And so fate has settled the matter. You will go with us."

He did not contradict her. At this instant it seemed to
him that he had no power of resistance left. The river flow-
ing by in the sunset glow became more than a dividing line
between two possible lives — it became a flood, bearing away
on its swift current all thought of everything save the woman
beside him. As he looked at her he said to himself that of
the many pictures of her which this journey had given him, he
would longest remember the one she made now — seated on the
ground amid the golden daisies, with the soft wind from the
Sierra blowing her sunny hair about her face. If they had
been indeed on the farther, the immortal side of that mystical
river of which he had spoken, it seemed to him that this face
could hardly have worn a fairer or sweeter aspect than it wore
for him now. And everything aided its influence, the awak-
ening of old powers, the yearning of desires which he had
fancied dead within him, the softer charm of nature, even the
oracle of a flower! Was there nothing to speak on the other
side? He looked toward the Sierra, the stern heights which
lift their great heads forever to the sky, the solemn hills "from
whence cometh help." Had they help for him? — inspiration?
— counsel?

" Well," said Mr. Bering, speaking suddenly in a satisfied
tone behind them, " I must say that I am very glad that we
are safely out of the Sierra, and have only one day more of
riding before us. To-morrow night we shall be in Santiago."

His daughter sighed. "I wish I could share or even sym-
pathize with your satisfaction, papa," she said; "but I am
only sorry for the end of our journey. I have never enjoyed

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 593

anything quite so much, and I am glad there is at least one
more day of riding before us ! "

" I only hope that your gladness will continue when you feel
the scorching heat of the sun on a dusty, unshaded road," her
father returned. " Riding in the Sierra is all very well — though
I am by no means so enraptured with that as yourself — but
riding elsewhere in Mexico is the very devil ! We must get
up at four o'clock, and do the greater part of our traveling in
the early morning hours. I hope, by the by, that you are not
intending to leave us to-morrow, Trescott?"

" We won't ask Mr. Trescott his intentions now," interposed
Eleanor. " He has fulfilled his promise of seeing us out of the
Sierra, and we mustn't press him to do anything more. Per-
haps to-morrow he will decide to go on, and if so he knows
that we shall be very glad; but we'll wait until to-morrow for
his decision."

An hour or two later supper was over. In view of the early
start of the morrow, Mr. Dering had already retired to his tent
and the camp was quiet. The last stain of sunset had long
since faded out of the west, where the sky was now a great
violet arch, thick sewn with stars. In the east the moon rode
in serene majesty, undisputed sovereign of the night, flinging
her silver radiance far and wide upon plain and hills, distant
heights and gleaming river, making the last as silver as herself.
In this fairy light the whole picture was touched with an al-
most mystical enchantment — at least to the eyes of the two
who had wandered quite away from the camp, and following
the hill found higher up the stream a strangely beautiful spot.
It was a natural rampart, like the battlement of some fortress
or mediaeval castle, where the action of the forces of nature
had stripped the rock bare, leaving a ledge rising sheer from
the stream, which washed its base some thirty feet below, while
the rounded mass of the hillside rose behind it. Strewn over
this long but narrow level space were a few scattered stones,
and on one of these Eleanor sat down.

"It is a throne which has been waiting for you since the
beginning of time," said Trescott, looking at her with a smile.
"We will make it a judgment- seat as well as a throne. For
now the time has come for the fulfillment of my promise; and
when I have told you my story, you shall decide whether I go
with you back to our world, or whether I return to the Sierra."
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 38

594 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

As Eleanor glanced at him, it might have been seen, even
in the moonlight, that she paled a little. Now that the mo-
ment of fate was come, she had a sense of shrinking from the
responsibility she had invoked.

" Need you tell your story ? " she asked hurriedly. " I have
heard something of it — enough for me to understand."

"I haven't doubted that you had [heard something of it,"
he replied. *' But there's everything in the point of view from
which a story is told, you know. Not that I have any inten-
tion of going into details; but I should like to tell you myself,
in a few words, how my life was broken short, like a forest
tree which a storm has snapped in two. The trunk stands, but
it can never be a tree in any real sense again. So it is with
me. And I don't pretend that I am altogether the victim of
a woman's falsehood. What the woman who ruined my life said
was false; but she could not have said it, and above all, it
would not have been believed, if I had not been playing the
part of a fool — dangling after her, feeding her vanity, and in-
dulging one of those superficial fancies, which, begun in idle-
ness and folly, often end in passion and crime. So when she
said to her husband: ' Philip Trescott wrote that letter/ he be-
lieved her; and I have no right to blame him for believing
her. And is was because we were friends, Jcomrades from boy-
hood as well as of later life, that he was beside himself with
rage — and that — what you know followed. I have often wished
that I had not yielded to the instinct of self-preservation, and
had allowed him to kill me. As it was, I did not mean to kill
him, only to wound so as to incapacitate. But the bullet meant
for the shoulder found the heart — Even yet, I wonder why I
didn't shoot myself then."

His voice ceased, and in the silence which followed — a silence
that the river filled with its low murmur as it swept along the
base of the cliff where they sat — Eleanor had time to think that
it is a terrible thing to see a human soul laid bare, and that
for such suffering all attempts at consolation would be at once
impertinent and vain. Presently she said very gently:

1 You did not shoot yourself because you were brave. Sui-
cide is the coward's refuge. You have borne your pain coura-
geously, and, by bearing it, expiated all that was your fault.
Why not try to feel now that it has been expiated and to take
up your life again where it was broken off?"

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 595

As he looked at her, she saw all the somber shadow of the
past in his eyes.

" A tragedy such as I have known breaks a man's life hope-
lessly in two," he answered. "For then came the trials; no
doubt you've heard the end of that. At the court-martial the
woman could have saved me ; but as she had sacrificed me once
to her husband's jealousy, so she sacrificed me the second time
to what shadow of reputation remained to her. I waited for
her to speak, but she did not speak; and I was dismissed from
the service a disgraced man. Then I understood that she had
revenged , herself because I had never laid myself altogether at
her feet ; and I understood again that our own deeds make the
whips which scourge us. Well, I left the country, drifted down
into Mexico, and finally to this region — attracted by its wildness
and remoteness, by all that makes other men dislike it. For
a while I was at the Santa Catalina ; but the social associations
were more than my sick soul could endure. I went away — out
into the Sierra — and there, for the first time, I found something
like peace. Nature seemed to lay her mighty hand upon me and
soothe my pain, as no other influence on earth had power to do."

Again he paused, and again the murmur of the river, which
seemed the very voice of nature, filled the silence. He sat for
a minute or two motionless, with his eyes fastened OH the great
mass of the mighty Mother Range, as if from afar off he felt
its influence ; and then, still gazing toward it, went on :

"You told me once when I said that the Sierra had given
me peace, that it was ignoble to seek peace before one had
won it in the heat and dust of conflict. But if you have ever
known what it is to suffer horribly, savagely, incessantly — yet,
what folly 1 How could you know ? "

"Perhaps I can imagine — in some degree."

" In some degree, perhaps, you can ; for you are one of those
whom sympathy teaches many things. Let me tell you, then,
that when one has so suffered and has found relief, any relief,
one is too well content, too grateful, to ask anything more.
That was how it was with me when you blamed me for being
satisfied with such content. A man should hardly be blamed
who, taken out of hell, asks simply to lie on the green earth
and look at the sun."

His words, his tone, roused such a sudden, wild inclination
to tears, that she could not answer for a moment.

596 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

-
" I was presumptuous," she said. " My only excuse — and it

is a poor one — is that I did not know the depth of the wound
I touched. I knew that you must have suffered, but — I never
guessed — "

As her voice faltered, he turned quickly and laid his hand
on hers, with a close, passionate pressure.

" Don't ! " he said. " Don't reproach yourself ! Your words
were like the call of a trumpet, only they had an effect which
you never intended — they wakened me to a new pain."

"No— no."

"Yes"; he removed his hand. "And now I must tell you
about that; and I must not spare myself, for you are to judge
as well as to sympathize, you know. It comes to this, then —
I am mad enough to love you, and I haven't the faintest pos-
sible right to do so ! "

Would he ever forget the look on her face, as she turned
it toward him !

"Why not?" she asked, or rather breathed softly.

" Ah ! " He caught his breath sharply. " For two reasons,"
he said almost sternly. " First, because I am a broken man,
without prospects and without energy, the murderer of my best
friend—"

"Stop!" she cried. "You shall not call yourself such a

name."

"He who kills is a murderer; and I killed him, not only
by the bullet which ended his life, but by the criminal folly
which made the bullet a possibility. There is no changing that
fact, God Himself — as I have often felt with a sense of despair
—cannot change it now; and, this being so, I could never think
of offering a blood-stained hand to you."

" It is not blood-stained," she said passionately. " A man's
hand is only stained when he has shed blood wilfully, when he
had an intention to kill. It is the intention which makes the
deed a crime or an accident. With you it was an accident."

He shook his head. " Not altogether. I have never been
able to lay that comfort to my soul. But, whether I could or
not, the fact remains that in the eyes of the world my hand
is blood-stained, and therefore not fit to touch, much less take
yours."

With a gesture of exquisite sweetness, she extended her hand
and laid it on his. " Let this show you what I think," she said.

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 597

Deeply moved, he bent his head and kissed the hand. Then
he placed it gently back in her lap.

" You are goodness itself," he said, " and I understand ex-
actly what you mean and why you mean it. You are very
sorry for me, and you wish to reinstate me in my own self-
esteem. Well, be sure, if anything on earth could do it, your
belief in me would. But I dwell too long on what I am or am
not, which is, after all, beside the question ; for the second rea-
son why I have no right to love you is — a woman."

Again a silence; but this time a very brief one, and in it
Eleanor Bering heard no longer the murmur of the river, but,
like the heroine of the old ballad, only the beating of her own
heart — beating so painfully, and to her senses so loudly, that
she almost feared it was audible to the ears beside her. But
she made no sound or sign, and after an instant Trescott went
on:

" If I were speaking to another person, I should have to
explain much, but not, I think, to you. The case then is this:
In my wanderings in the Sierra I had, as you know, the excuse
of prospecting, and it was with this excuse that I went to the
house of a woodcutter of the Sierra, who had brought me rich
samples of ore. I didn't expect and didn't desire to find any-
thing of real value ; but, because I didn't desire it, I found a
mine for which a real prospector would almost have given his
head. Having found, I felt bound to stay and work it; and,
besides, it was an excuse to remain in the mountains and let
nature do the healing work, of which I have spoken. Then
presently I began to feel the first pleasure which I had felt
since my life was broken off short, in watching a girl, a daughter
of the woodcutter. And this pleasure was due to the fact that
she was a purely natural creature, absolutely without artifice,
absolutely primitive in all her instincts — in short, if you can
understand what I mean, she was a perfect embodiment in human
form of the scenes and the influences which were surrounding
me."

Miss Bering's voice had a tone of involuntary constraint in
it when she said :

"I think I understand perfectly. But was not this fancy
due to your own condition?"

"Partly, no doubt; but, putting my fancy aside, I believe
that if you saw her yoi^re^Tptie^gn^that, unconsciously to

MORRISANIA BRANCH
fiin P-jct ifiQth St.

598 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

herself, the great scenes amid which she has lived have molded
and influenced her character and her thoughts. I watched her
long and closely, just as I liked to watch the wild fawns out in
the forest, and I never saw her do a thing, or heard her utter
a word which was not serene and noble."

" It is saying a great deal."

" It is saying simply the truth. Indeed, I should be an
ingrate if I failed to say it, for she was as kind to me as only
a woman knows how to be to a man whom she feels to be
sorely wounded. She helped — may God deal with me as I
should deserve if I ever forget how much she helped ! — in
healing my wounds. And then one day I found that she was
about to be handed over by her father to a man whom she
detested. I interfered, and brought such pressure to bear on
the father that he was forced to send the man away. But I
saw that there was only one real way to save her, and that
was to marry her myself. You see " — for Eleanor had started
— " I felt that I was, for all practical purposes, a dead man.
I had given up my home and my country, I desired nothing
more than to bury myself in the Sierra; and it seemed as if the
best I could do with my ruined life was to make it a protec-
tion to one to whom I was sincerely attached, and who cared
for me far more than I deserved. So, while I did not tell her
that I loved her — I have never told her that — I told her that,
if she trusted me, I would be faithful to her."

His voice sank, and silence followed, which Eleanor pres-
ently heard herself break by asking: "And you have, then,
married her ? "

"Not yet"; he answered. "It is not easy to be married
in the Sierra ; and — there seemed no need for haste. She has
been satisfied to wait. She would be satisfied with anything,
so long as I did not break faith with her. And so I have lived,
forgetting, or trying to forget, more and more that there was
any other life — until I met you."

Silence again. How the river sang over its stones, with
what liquid sweetness of melody its pouring water filled the
silver night ! And, hark ! coming clear and plaintive from a
group of trees which crowned the hill behind them, the cry
of the whippoorwill, sounding far and wide over the sleeping
valley !

"I met you," Trescott repeated, as if those words told

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 599

everything, " and, having met you, what could I do but fol-
low you ? I said to myself that it would only be for a few —
a very few — days, and that their pleasure was worth whatever
I should have to pay. For you not only embody all that is
highest and best in my old life, every social charm, every in-
tellectual grace of civilization, but you are more than that —
you are yourself, individual, exquisite, so rare and fine and
noble, that if we part now, if I never see you again, and if I
suffer all the pain which must be my portion in not seeing
you, I shall be thankful even for this pain, because it has its
root in having known you and loved you and felt the sweet-
ness of your companionship, your sympathy and your com-
passion."

"Oh, hush! — hush!" Eleanor cried with a stifled sob.
"You break my heart!"

In an instant he was kneeling beside her, holding both her
hands.

" Have I hurt you ? " he said. " I am a brute as well as a
fool ! Don't you understand ? — don't you see ? There's noth-
ing for you to regret — nothing ! If the Sierra soothed my
pain, you have — "

" Made you suffer more ! "

"Wakened my soul, taught it that there are things so di-
vine that one would willingly buy them at the price of any
pain ! And you have also given me strength to go back to
the world where my place and my duties are, or would be, if
— if the other obligation which I have made for myself here
did not prevent. Tell me — you know everything now — what
shall I do ? Shall I go, or shall I stay ? "

" It is too much," she said passionately, " too much to ask
me to decide ! "

" But you only can decide. Don't you see that I can't
trust myself ? Every instinct of my nature, every feeling of
my heart, urges me to go with you, to return to the world
where I belong, and where I may meet you, see you, perhaps
some day even win the right to love you — And all that in-
terferes with this is my word, just my word, given t© one with
whom most men and women of our race and class would feel
that it was sheer folly, sheer madness, to keep faith ! If I go,
I must break my promise, and perhaps break her heart — God
only knows about that — and besides abandon her to a savage

600 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

brute; w&ile, if I stay, I must give up everything which could
make life have once more a meaning for me, and commit
mental and moral suicide. There is the strait in which I am
placed. So what can I do but put the matter in your hands
— these kind and tender hands — and bid you decide for me?"

She drew her hands out of his clasp.

" Will you go away," she said, speaking very low, " and
come back in about a quarter of an hour? I— will think over
what you have told me, and give you my decision then."

A quarter of an hour later all the night seemed to Tres-
cott's fancy filled with the mournful cry of the whippoorwills,
as he went back to where Eleanor sat, quite motionless, her
hands clasped around her knees, looking as steadfastly as he
had looked toward the great heights, where they had journeyed
together during a few golden days, and where the other — the
dark woman — awaited his return. Not until he stood immedi-
ately before her did she remove her eyes from the Sierra and
look at him. Then, in their expression, he read his doom.

" I have thought it all over," she said very quietly. " I
have weighed — everything. And I don't see how it is pos-
sible for you to do anything but go back."

" I knew you would say that," he answered as quietly as
herself. "There isn't anything else to do. To-morrow I will
turn my face again toward the Sierra, and let you go back to
the world without me. After all, it is expiation — and it is
justice. What right have I to look for happiness? It is
better so."

"It is not better so," she answered, and now her voice
was firm and clear. " You have expiated long and bitterly
what was a folly and an accident, rather than a crime, and
you have a right to your life, to success and happiness and
— and love, like other men. But you can't build a new life
on broken faith and ingratitude. Other men might do so, and
never feel a pang of self-reproach; but not you. If you come
with us now, nothing would ever enable you to forget that
you had repaid kindness and love with desertion and betrayal.
Therefore, you must go back."

" Yes, I must go back."

" But you must not stay," she went on. " You must find
a means — there are open and honorable means — of avoiding
what would be in the end misery not only to yourself but to

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 60 1

this woman. Think of the mental as well as of the social in-
equality between you ! — think, above all, of the fact that you
do not love her ! "

" And that I do love you ! "

" Then to marry her, no matter how much you might give
her in other respects, would be to do her a grievous wrong.
Don't fancy that because she is ignorant and humble she would
not feel it. Nothing can take the place of love to a woman.
If, then, you will let me advise you — for your own sake and
hers — you will tell her the truth. It is the only brave and
honest thing to do."

He knelt down again beside her ; and taking her hands
again in his own, carried them to his lips.

" You are right/' he said. " As long as I was dead it did
not matter what became of me, and I might have made her
content. But now I am alive — and she would feel it — "

" Yes, she would feel it."

" And so I will try to do your bidding in this also — if I
can. It will be hard, for it will hurt her, but I will try. And
if— if I succeed—"

" Let us say nothing of that ! " she interrupted quickly.
"It is not good to make plans for possible happiness on an-
other's loss. Do it because it is right, because the truth is
due to her and to yourself. Whatever may follow is in God's
hands. Let us leave it there. And since it is possible that,
after we part to-morrow, we may not meet again, I want you
to remember just one thing: that the pain of which you have
spoken is not all yours, but I am glad to bear my share of it,
if since we met I have helped you in the least. For I have
known from the first that your burden is very heavy. But it
will be lifted — I am sure it will be lifted — and you will yet do
your duty to God and man with courage and honor. Now we
must go back to the camp. You know we are to start very
early in the morning."

It was so early when they started the next morning that the
moon was still shining — though now in the western sky — and
the light which filled the sleeping world was a beautiful ming-
ling of moonlight and a glow from the east, which was rapidly
growing incarnadine before the coming of the sun. It was in
this strange, mystical radiance, with the sinking moon on one
side, and the rosy dawn coming up the sky on the other, that

602 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

-
Trescott put Eleanor on her mule and held her hand for the

last time.

"Good-bye"; he said — and in his face, as he looked up at
her, was all that was left unsaid.

" Good-bye"; she echoed. And then, leaning a little from
her saddle, she pointed to the flushing dawn. " ' Until the
day breaks and the shadows flee away ! ' ' she said very softly
and sweetly. "Have no fear. The day will break — the sha-
dows will flee away. So, good-bye — and God bless you ! "

It was with this gentle benediction still sounding in his
ears that, at the foot of the hill, he saw them ride away
toward the east, momently growing more radiantly glorious,
while he turned his horse's head and, crossing the river, set
his face toward the west, the shadows, and the Sierra.

IX.

It was not yet fully daylight when Trescott rode by one ot
the many pack-train camps which are constantly seen in this val-
ley, since through it pass all the trains which convey goods
and supplies from Santiago to many places in the Sierra. He
hardly noticed the ordinary scene — the long row of pack saddles
and bales of various kinds, the patient animals, the men stretched
out in their blankets around the smoldering fire. Even less
did he observe that, at the sound of his horse's tramp on the
hard white road, one of the men raised his head and looked
toward him, then sat up, and then rose to his feet — still re-
garding the now diminishing figure of the horseman with a
glance in which recognition was mingled with disappointment
and anger. He watched the figure until it disappeared and, as
he watched it, an expression of dark malignity settled over a
face which nature had apparently formed for such expressions.
He muttered a curse, then turned and kicked one of his sleep-
ing companions.

"Wake up, Pe'pe ! " he growled. "I have something to tell
thee. Nombre dc Dios, what a sleeper ! Wake up, man, I say ! "

Pepe rolled over, uttered a curse or two on his own account,
and finally sat up.

" What dost thou want, Cruz ? " he asked, looking up at the
tall figure standing over him. "It is no more than the mad-
rugada. What need is there to start so early ? "

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MADRE 603

"Start at noon, if thou likest, lazy one! I have not waked
thee to talk of starting, but to tell thee that I am going back
a day's journey or so. Take the mules on to Santiago, de-
liver this letter to Don Jose* Medina, tell him I was taken ill
on the road, but that I will be there in a day;'or two, and wait
for me. Say nothing to any one else, and make Tobalito hold
his tongue."

" Pepe was by this time wide awake, staring at his comrade.

"For what art thou going back, Cruz?" he asked.

Cruz swore at him roundly. " Is it business of thine what
I am going back for ? " he demanded. " But I may tell thee
that I am going to Santa Rosa to visit a woman. I thought
of her when I saw the town in the distance yesterday, as we
crossed over the mountain by the short cut, and I said to my-
self that I would go there to-day, for we shall be too hurried
when we return, with our loads of merchandise, to stop."

"Well, good luck go with thee!" said the other, giving his
blanket a roll around him and lying down again. " Adios"

Cruz, who was the only mounted member of the party,
saddled his mule, and after a brief breakfast of cold tortillas
and beans, set forth — not in the direction of Santa Rosa, which
lies to the north, but straight west toward the Sierra.

He rode all day, taking care not to come within sight of
the horseman whom he knew to be in advance of [him, and
whom several times he was in danger of overtaking, for Tres-
cott, having no reason to press his horse, rode slowly, especial-
ly since by afternoom they were well among the hills and
mounting higher with every step. Only once the man behind
left the trail which the other was following. On this occasion
he turned aside and sought a small ranch deep among massive
heights. Here he found a friend who gave him hearty welcome
— a friend who belonged to the large class of retired bandits,
once very numerous in this country, but whose ranks death is
now thinning. After they had exchanged greetings, patted
each other on the ^back, even as if they had been high born
caballcros, and, with many 'compliments, drank ^to each other
out of the same bottle of tequila, Cruz, resisting the hospitable
entreaties of his friend that he would remain for the night,
broached his business — it was to borrow a rifle. He had left
his pack-train to go back and search for a strayed mule, the
search would take him into a wild part of the Sierra, and he

604 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.,

must spend the night there alone. Mountain tigers, as Pablo
knew, were very bold when it was only a question of a single
man; therefore he would like, as a measure of precaution, to
have a rifle, which he would return without fail in a day or
two.

Pablo was not so indiscreet in questioning as Pepe had been.
Mountain tigers made a good enough excuse for him. He
produced with alacrity his rifle — a treasured weapon, which he
had carried in the Sierra for many a day, as one of the band
of Francisco Mora, who was called the king of the Sierra, and
who reigned there like a king until the government was con-
temptible enough to put a price on his head, which so quickened
the zeal and energy of his pursuers that he was taken and shot,
and his faithful followers had to put away their rifles, under
pain of being shot likewise. All of this Cruz knew — he not
only knew about the adventurous past of Pablo, but especially
why the rifle bore such marks of service and why its owner
handled it so lovingly. As he fastened it to his saddle, the
latter looked at it with a sigh.

"So I carried it," he remarked. "And it never failed me.
Many a cross it helped to put up in the days of Francisco —
take care of it, Cruz, and bring it back safely. I would rather
lose one of the chiquitos than this rifle."

" I will take care of it and bring it back," Cruz promised ;
and then, with fresh salutations and good wishes, he rode
away.

The ex-bandit looked after him with a sympathetic but also
a presaging gaze. He, who had known long what it was to
stalk a human prey, with what fierce excitement such hunting
fills the veins, was at no loss to read aright the fire in the
dark, somber eyes which had looked into his own.

" He wants to put up another cross," he said to himself;
" but he will do well to take care that he does not put up
two. If they come to me I shall certainly say that he had the
rifle. I have no mind to be shot at this late day for his mis-
deeds."

As nightfall came down upon the great heights, Trescott
was still climbing wearily upward along a scarcely discernible
trail. He knew that he should have reached before this the
place where he intended to spend the night ; but he had rested
too long at mid-day and traveled too slowly after starting; so

1909.] IN THE SIERRA MAD RE 605

sunset and swift-falling twilight found him on a long, steep as-
cent, in one of the wildest parts of the outlying Sierra.

It mattered little to him, however. The deadly lassitude
and depression which follow any great mental or moral, just
as it follows any great physical, effort were upon him. He felt
shattered, utterly overcome, utterly indifferent to any further
blow which fate might have in store for him. What did the
trifle of being belated or lost among the mountains matter to
one whose life was belated and lost ? A shadow, such as had
scarcely rested upon his face since he had first sought the house
of Miguel Lopez in the depths of the Sierra, rested on it now.
The reaction from the brightness and happiness of the last few
days was intense; the sense of loss acute. All the exaltation
of mood, all the hopefulness which he had drawn from Eleanor
Bering were gone with her. Dark upon his soul fell the old
misery, and with it a new despair — the consciousness, the cer-
tainty, that he had only dreamed of freedom, of new life, of
sunshine, and possible happiness. These things were not for
him. The woman whose spirit had for a time wakened and
borne up his own was gone, and he knew — knew with a posi-
tive intuition — that he should never find strength and confidence
enough in himself and his destiny to seek her again. All that
remained to him was such obscurity and such peace as the
Sierra might give.

And yet he felt as if even that had been taken away from
him. The Sierra had now no message of peace, no soothing
for his wounded soul. He had once told Eleanor that its great-
est power of soothing lay in its freedom from human associa-
tions, in the fact that among the great hills there was nothing
to remind him of his past life, or of anything which was a
source of pain. But now — Ah, now all this was changed !
Where could he now turn that he would not see, with that in-
ward vision which in absence beholds so clearly, and beholding
burns the heart like a fire, the presence that had passed with
him through the wild forests and the deep sylvan glades, and
robbed them of repose forever ? What had the Sierra now be-
come to him but an empty and desolate region, such as the
fairest region that earth knows must become when love has en-
tered and gone out of it? Enchanted solitudes she had called
the scenes where they had wandered together for a few brief,
happy days; and solitudes indeed they now remained to him,

6o6 IN THE SIERRA MADRE [Feb.

while she' had taken the enchantment with her when she rode
away into the rosy, golden dawn.

All these thoughts accompanied him as he climbed upward
where only the day before they had descended together; and
when he caught the sound of a horse's tread on the stony trail
below, it was a proof of how keenly he felt the loneliness which
encompassed him that the sound was almost welcome to his ear.
At length he gained the height up which he had been climb-
ing, and found a comparatively level summit on which some-
thing of sunset light was yet lingering. And here his eye was
caught by one of the wayside crosses so common along the
way. The sight of it recalled the day he had pointed out such
a cross to Eleanor Bering, and she had said that she was sorry
for the man who had died there, because, " even for the un-
happy, life holds many chances and death none." How he could
hear her voice uttering the words ! — and what was it he had
answered ?

"There are men for whom life holds no chances. And for
such, a quick call — a death in the sunlight — and a cross by the
wayside is no ill fate."

Well, he was ready to say the same thing again, with added
emphasis ; ready to envy the man to whom the quick call had
come here. For what friend was like death to give peace to
the tortured and weary spirit, to lift the burden from galled
shoulders, to cut knots and solve riddles which were past all
human cutting or solving ? He drew up his horse and, with
his figure outlined against the sky, stood looking at the rude,
pathetic memorial of tragic death. Into his mind came the
words which had been Eleanor's farewell to him in the morn-
ing: "Until the day breaks and the shadows flee away."
Would the day indeed break, the shadows flee — ?

The sharp crack of a rifle rang through the forest. There
was the wild rush of a startled horse, the sound of a falling
body —

The day had broken, the shadows fled forever.

(THE END.)

"WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?"

BY WILLIAM J. KERBY, PH.D.

IV.

|HE implications of poverty are more distressing
than poverty itself. Did the poor invite from us
merely food and clothing, they would be provided
for without much difficulty. But the implications
of poverty give the problem a most complex
character. Neglect of health, undernutrition, ignorance of sani-
tary precautions, lack of that acute regard for physical well-
being which comes with civilization, are to be noted on all
sides among the poor. Furthermore, one finds among them a
low sense of personal responsibility, a narrow outlook on life*
and a peculiar kind of fatalism which render them provoking-
ly resigned to everything that happens, and kills initiative that
might lift them from their usual surroundings. Poverty
implies, too, enforced association of poor with poor, promiscu-
ous association of wicked and virtuous, of refined and de-
graded, often under the same roof. The poor cannot pick their
dwellings, nor their companionships, nor their friends. They ac-
cept those whom fate throws near them. They cannot pick their
bankers, hence they go to the loan shark. They cannot choose
their grocer, hence they must trade where they will be trusted
but cheated. They cannot select their neighbors, hence they are
preyed upon by borrowers who rob them of half of their in-
sufficient store of necessaries.

The atmosphere and environment in which the poor must
live greatly effect their lives. Hence, in assisting them,
we assist not some vague average individual, but a number
of concrete persons, living in these conditions, subjected to
definite temptations and weaknesses. Varied obstacles are in
their way, for some of which they are to blame, for many of
which society, and not they, is responsible. The relief of
hunger, pain, danger, is always of first importance. There are
no implications to be considered when the poor are hungry.

608 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR f " [Feb.,

But the true understanding of their condition depends on our
insight into all of its implications and our wisdom in helping
them will depend on the manner in which we meet and re-
move these. Undoubtedly much of the indifference of other-
wise good persons, persons of real spiritual sense, toward the
poor, is due to systematic failure to see in poverty anything
but hunger and rags. Hunger and rags are not the chains of
the poor. Their chains cannot be seen unless one looks into
the world of the poor. The active friends of the poor know
this. Others ignore it; and to the heavy burden that the poor
must carry is added the inexcusable indifference of thousands
who might befriend them, did the thousands understand.

The implications of giving in charity are quite as impor-
tant as the relief given. Cardinal Newman says somewhere
that charity has no reserves. It must have them. The giver
must accept reserves from his relations to others who give in
charity, from his understanding of all of the elements in the
condition of those who receive aid. No doubt the Christian
impulse acts most beautifully when a personal bond unites
giver and recipient. When the latter seeks intelligently and
the former gives in person and kind, there is no "problem"
of charity, no "method" to follow, no "trained worker" to
engage, no check to be drawn, no " appeal " to be made. But
this is not usually the case. There are so many poor to be
cared for and so few who wish to give the care ; there are so
many among the poor who are dull or timid or deceitful or
personally to be blamed, or deliberately lazy, that organization
and system are absolutely necessary. There are so many
among the well-to-do who have no knowledge of the poor, or
having information, have no heart, or having heart, lack good
judgment, that it is necessary to rouse one class, instruct
another, and direct a third. Without organization and system
this cannot be done.

Let us regret the need of organization and system as we
may ; let us admit frankly every shortcoming that can be al-
leged against them; let us admit to the fullest the possibility
of unorganized personal service of the poor by the well-to-do; let
us emphasize as we may the particular personal character of social
service as Christ taught and exemplified it. After all is said,
the need of organization and system in charity is imperative.
Restraint, discrimination, direction, which constitute the very

1909.] " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR f " 609

purpose of all social institutions, must be introduced into the
service of the poor. Men will differ concerning types of organi-
zation and relative efficiency of methods. They may judge re-
sults by different standards. But the aims that all friends of
the poor must have in mind are impossible without system of
some kind, without organization of some type or other. It is
practically impossible nowadays to know who is one's neigh-
bor; or, knowing, to understand how to be neighbor to him
as Christ would ask and his condition would invite. Organi-
zation and system aim to provide neighbors and neighborly
service to all who need them. Beyond that it has no mission
whatever.

Charity is primarily personal and individual. This primitive
character of charity, so perfectly symbolized in the story of
the Good Samaritan, is never to be lost from sight. It is real-
ized most happily in this age, in small towns and cities where
the poor are relatively few in number and are easily known.
They retain individuality, since poverty is robbed of many of
its worst implications. Within family circles, and in uncounted
isolated cases, the direct personal character of charity may be
found. It is the nearest approach to the Christian ideal. It
is to be welcomed and sustained whenever possible. But one
sees at a glance that the whole problem of charity can never
be met in this way. This method may supplement organiza-
tion and system. It can never replace them.

Modern charity must be organized. They who feel a sense
of duty toward the poor, and obey the impulse to serve them,
should know one another, understand one another, and co-
operate in their work. Wise division of labor, selection of in-
dividuals with aptitude for particular tasks, utilization of ex-
perience, avoidance of waste effort, and gradual creation of
policy in dealing with recurring conditions, are of vital impor-
tance. These ends are obtained by organization, which is, after
all, the short road to efficiency in all kinds oi social action.
Once a body of representative men and women is well organized,
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 39

6io " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR*" [Feb.,

-
they develop a breadth of view and habit of observation which

are of highest value in relief work.

A second advantage is found in the fact that organized
charity gives us an organ for the social conscience. From
among the ranks of the strong and well-to-do come many who
feel their duty toward the poor. Isolated, they are merely in-
dividuals doing their duty. Organized, they acquire power and
prestige. They express whatever social conscience society pos-
sesses, and, by their example and effort, develop that con-
science. Organized charity forces information concerning the
poor into circles where the poor are unknown. It goes to
those who have knowledge but lack sympathy, and endeavors
to awaken slumbering Christian feeling. It goes to many who
aid the poor generously but unwisely, and suggests intelligent
restraint and wisely ordered purpose.

A third service given by organized charity is that of acting
as attorney for the poor before society at large. Poverty is
seen as a whole in its organic relations to society and its in-
stitutions. The social processes which come to view in the
facts of poverty, and subsequent processes going out from them
are certainly sought and to some extent understood by organ-
ized charity. It goes before city councils and executives, be-
fore legislatures and governors. It sends representatives before
courts and into committees. It accepts service when called
upon by social authorities to give information or advice. Or-
ganized charity inaugurates social movements in the interests
of the poor, watches the enforcement of laws and asks for their
enactment. Back of this activity is the keen understanding of
social causes in poverty, of the constructive role of law, and
of the power of public opinion in bending social forces to the
relief of the poor.

There is no practical way of reaching any of these results
except through organization of men and women who are de-
voted to the poor. There is no other way of meeting the im-
plications of poverty; of presenting, in the fight against them,
forces as strong as those which poverty reveals. Organized
charity means simply association and co-operation among those
who serve the poor. It means that as astronomers and chem-
ists and economists, as business men and priests and laboring
men, obey a natural instinct for association and a laudable de-
sire for increased efficiency, so also they who engage in charity

1909.] " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR f" 61 1

work seek efficiency, wisdom, re-enforcement through associa-
tion. If it be objected that the distinctive personal and spiritual
character of charity lends itself poorly to organization, it may
be said in reply, that charity is not more spiritual than wor-
ship which is organized, nor more confidential than the con-
fessional, for the wise conducting of which preparation is made
by organized discussions and conferences.

It is true that philanthropists when organizing charity will
produce one spirit ; that Catholics will develop a distinctly dif-
ferent one ; and that Protestants will be unlike both in their
work. But it remains equally true that there are points of
contact as well : problems that must be met in common, re-
sources of which all may avail themselves, and duties toward
society at large, toward rich as well as poor, in urging which
all may join.

One might, with some appearance of justification, say that
in urging these points to the credit of organized charity, one
invades the domain of Church and home and school. These
are the normal agents which share in forming Christian char-
acter. It may be claimed that these shape the social conscience
and express it; that they act as attorney for the poor before
society.

That all three should do this kind of work is beyond ques-
tion. That they actually do so, and leave nothing for organ-
ized charity to undertake, would scarcely be maintained by the
narrowest opponent of organization. Much of the awakened
social conscience found in religion is to be credited to organi-
zation of charity within its lines. It is no surprise nowadays
to see the layman who is active in organized charity enter the
seminary to lecture to future priests on the work.

No institution is universal in its effects. Organized charity
is not without drawbacks. Obvious as are its advantages, its
disadvantages are equally so. But that does not affect the case
in its summing up. Organization is favored as an endeavor to
reduce the average mistakes in dealing with the poor, and to
render those which are inevitable, less harmful. It should be
judged as all institutions and Christianity itself are judged —
by what they do rather than by what they fail to do. If there
are particularly complex problems in charity that can be met
only by organization, then organization is necessary, as ex-
plosives are necessary in spite of accidents, and railroads are

612 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR? " [Feb.,

necessary in spite of collisions and killings. If then, not organ-
ization in itself, but some organizations that one has known,
be condemned or opposed, the issue is merely an accidental
one. Rightly understood, organization is not a substitute for
individuals in charity work; it is a scheme to increase their
number and efficiency. It does not indicate that an impersonal,
inhuman view of the poor is taken ; it means that deepest con-
cern for all the poor is felt, and effort is made to reach them
by the increased efficiency of those who give themselves to the
work. The idea of organization is closely allied to that of
system, in the discussion of which the thought now in mind
is completed.

in.

Modern charity must be systematic. The law of giving may
not be derived from the verbal demands of those in need. They
may know best of all that they are hungry and cold, but they
may not be trusted implicitly beyond questions of acute dis-
tress. The danger is direct, of enervating the poor if too ready
compliance with their requests is found. " I have observed,"
Franklin is quoted as saying, "the more public provisions are made
for the poor, the less they provide for themselves." There are
many among the poor who know what they need and who want
nothing beyond it. Their representations may be taken as in
the fullest, wise and true. For such, there is no charity prob-
lem except that of giving just what is asked. But in general,
the risk of encouraging laziness, of making fraud easy and suc-
cessful, of overlooking very poor judgment, is present in reliev-
ing the poor. Some practice of discrimination is necessary.
We must look not to the poor, but beyond them, to find its
principle. Hence the law of giving may not be derived from
the requests of those in need.

Neither may the law of giving be derived from the mere
impulse of the giver. There is no guarantee that a good im-
pulse is a wise one, or that a favoring providence is so pleased
by good intention as to shield those who have it from penal-
ties of their mistakes of judgment. The poor have a right to
protection against their injudicious friends. That one enjoys
giving is no valid reason for giving. That one feels that one
ought to give justifies giving, but does not direct it. That one
seeks supernatural merit by giving in God's name does not

1909.] " WHO Is MY NEIGHBOR?" 613

wipe out the duty that one has of refraining from such con-
duct as may aid deception, encourage idleness, and degrade a
fellow-man. Unwise giving has the unfortunate power of ac-
complishing all three.

The law of giving must be derived from an intelligent judg-
ment of the whole condition of the poor viewed as possessing
average human traits, responsibilities, and rights. Their first
right is to relief. Their second right is to self-sufficiency, to
reconstructed character and normal social relations. No whim
of a poor man and none of a giver can assure the wise review
and correct apprehension of a case. The view that will be ob-
jectively true and morally right will be widened and deepened.
To day's need, once the poor are fed and clothed, must be seen in
relation to yesterday's and to to-morrow's. Social causes, social
environment, social situations, must be looked into, for it is not
so much the tact ot poverty as its relations that will give us
understanding. That a man now works twelve hours a day says
little. That last year he worked fifteen and now twelve gives
us one history. That last year he worked ten and now twelve
gives us another. It is similar in the case of poverty. The
facts to-day can be understood only when seen in relation to
facts of yesterday. And wisdom in dealing with facts to-day
must come mainly from looking at the facts we desire for to-
morrow. It is always well to know how much the individual
had to do in his downward way and how much he may do in
his own restoration. If many fell among robbers regularly, and
each Good Samaritan knew of only his own case, much would
be missed until some Good Samaritan with wider knowledge,
saw all of the instances in their relations, after which probably
his impulse would be to order a regiment to exterminate the
whole robber tribe. But while only isolated cases of brigandage
were thought of, this larger service would never be rendered,
In a word, judgment in giving relief should rest on past and
future, as well as present views of the case.

That this will be often unnecessary, often impossible, some-
times ill-advised may be granted. But we must, as a rule,
look forward in the case to find our aim in giving, backwards
to find an explanation, and then into the case to find our work
and obey our wisdom. Mercy is not forgotten, but wisdom is
added to our effort ; efficiency is not impaired, it is augmented.
The self-respect of the poor is protected and hope is let into

614 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR? " [Feb.,

their lives, The doing of all of this is system. It means wiser
methods, larger views, truer perspective. It brings to the scat-
tered generous impulses of men the multiplied energy of asso-
ciation, the re- enforcement that comes when many work to-
gether. Just as education reaches power through system, as
business becomes possible byjsystem, as religion becomes stable
and strong through it, so charity seeks its wisdom, its efficiency,
its wider mission to men, through system. And as system in
business has its cost, and system in education, its penalties, and
system in religion, its drawbacks, so system in charity has its
cost and its penalties and its drawbacks. But, beyond these,
it has a power, a justification, that the observing eye cannot
miss.

System is the inevitable companion of bigness in any domain
of life. Small undertakings present no problems; mass and
complexity offer many. Everything in modern charity makes
system necessary.

However direct one's defence of system may be, one may
not close one's eyes to the obvious objections and difficulties
presented to a fair mind. Objection is made against trained
workers, need of whom is one of the implications of system.
It is claimed that they become impersonal, professional, me-
chanical in work that is peculiarly individual and personal.
Objection is made against the payment of salaries, because this
converts a profoundly spiritual activity into a mercenary pro-
fession. Fault is found with the keeping of records, showing
history of cases of distress relieved, because it invades the pri-
vacy of the poor, and offers to the curious, an opportunity to
know the details of misfortune that humanity and culture would
hide. Objection is made to a certain regularity of procedure
in cases of charity, because it introduces delay, divided respon-
sibility and indefiniteness. This is known as red tape. Claim
is made that there are too many "principles," too much liter-
ature, statistics, schools of philanthropy, methods. Even wit
and humor, which often reveal a deep stratum of feeling and
keen philosophy in society, are directed against the alleged
shortcomings of systematic charity with telling effect. Thought-
ful men, however, will not adapt their views to suit current
humor, nor will they mistake a caricature for a photograph.

Sometimes an individual is confused with an institution, and
when the former merits criticism, the latter is apt to receive it.

1909.] " WHO Is MY NEIGHBOR?" 615

Again an objection, true of every form of organized life, is
hurled with particular emphasis against organized charity. Many
of those who base their judgment on such restricted views might
find reason for modification if a well-rounded, healthy estimate
of the whole situation were made. There are real difficulties to
be met. Vigilance is necessary to prevent system from becom-
ing an end instead of being a means. There is danger of los-
ing sight of the personality of the individual poor, of dealing
in averages instead of in men and women and children. It is un-
doubtedly true that system in charity work does at times chill
the free and buoyant impulse to service which is the crowning
glory of Christian character, and does rationalize where feeling
loves to have its sway. System does spend much money in
salaries and administration expenses which may appear out of
proportion to amounts spent in relief. But this is because no one
of equal efficiency will work unpaid. It may think of the poor
as types, and at times forget that they are individuals after all,
each with feelings, rights, stomach, heart, and soul. System
may produce impractical persons who roam among the poor,
and finding a "case," turn to their Book of Principles and
Methods in order to find out what to do, much as though a
sociological guide book were directing their feelings and aims
It may be that the scientific worker goes among the poor with
her hard face never brightened by the bounding light of a big
emotion and never softened by the relaxing look of pity. Yet,
after all is said and admitted, what have we but system to re-
place system.

As these objections are sometimes advanced, they contain
much exaggeration and denote the usual ratio of misunderstand-
ing. Qualitatively they are the inevitable results of system,
paralleled in every line of social institutions which man has de-
vised. Quantitatively many of the objections have real force,
but they constitute no indictment that will hold in the court of
enlightened sense.

IV.

Organizations of charity should co-operate. System is one
thing; a particular system is another. There are institutions
in modern charity work whose wisdom may not yet be finally
proven, as there are methods which may be reasonably ques-

616 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR ? " [Feb ,

tioned. Particularly we Catholics have occasion for much so-
licitude on account of the peculiar organic relation conceived
to exist between our charity and our faith. Catholics are much
inclined to institutional life for orphans for reasons that are
evident, if not always wise. We insist on the spiritual mo-
tive in giving and oppose publicity with varying degrees of fer-
vor. We are firmly set against salaries in any kind of char-
ity work, and are keenly alert to protect the privacy of the
poor. We carry the fullest understanding of the moral and
religious laws of life into every detail of charity work, and
never abate solicitude for the fullest respect of all of the per-
sonal human rights and the conscience of the poor, whatever
the consequences or burdens that result.

With the whole soul of faith entering into each feature of
charity work, the Catholic is sensitive and, very often, uncom-
promising. He believes that he detects signs of currents and
counter-currents in general charity work. He sees 'efforts made
to secularize all charity, to base it on the universal point of
view which is the starting point of philanthropy replacing re-
ligion. Even in New York, where frank recognition of the role
of religion in life is written into charter and constitution, rest-
less forces appear to work against the policies and ideals for
which we stand. It is not surprising, then, that doubt concern •
ing co-operation with other forms of organized charity should
be met in Catholic circles and that the difficulties in the way
of it should have great prominence in our literature. Nor is
it strange that the tendency is to minimize relations with
others and co-operate reluctantly at all times. Unfortunately
it is sometimes justified. But at times it is at least construct-
ively unfair to secular and non-Catholic charity workers. The
Catholics who go among workers of other types, who learn
their methods at first hand and co-operate, often become
much broader. Great eagerness to do justice and respect feel-
ing is actually found, whatever evidences of the contrary may
be shown. Were Catholics to understand their own position
fully, and to express it frankly when identified with other
charity workers, the very best results would undoubtedly ob-
tain. The International Conference of the St. Vincent de Paul
Society in St. Louis in 1903 formally adopted a resolution fa-
voring such action: "As American citizens it is our duty to
co-operate with citizens of all creeds in all that pertains to the

1909.] " WHO Is MY NEIGHBOR?" 617

elevation of our fellow-beings; but in this co-operation we
should be guided by our rules, which wisely forbid the expo-
sure of the misfortune of the poor.'1 In May, 1908, the Na-
tional Conference of Charities and Corrections, the Hebrew
Charities, and the St. Vincent de Paul Society met in the same
week in Richmond. All took part in one joint meeting. The
President of the National Conference, which includes representa-
tives of the secular and Protestant charities and philanthropic.*,
was none other than a Catholic, one of the most active Vincent
de Paul workers in the United States.

No social group, no great organized interest in society, is
possible except when members look for points of agreement
among themselves, unite on them, and overlook the forces that
might separate them. Charity organizations need obey only
this general social law. They need only look for the work,
methods, and aims in which they do agree, in order to be in
position to increase efficiency. While Catholic, Protestant, and
Jew, men of every religion and of no religion, are jumbled into
the mass of the poor, charity workers of all kinds will meet,
will find themselves facing the same problems, each needing
the other in many ways. But, above all, this need of their
union is found in the indirect work that charity organizations
must do in society at large, in order to effect the redemption
ol the poor.

Organizations of charity should undertake social reform work
for the sake of the poor as well as for the relief of individuals
and families.

It was hinted a moment ago that the charity organization
is an organ of the social conscience and is in addition attorney
for the poor before society at large. In these capacities, it
must undertake such reforms as are directed toward the pro-
tection of the poor in any way. All legislation that makes in-
dustry safer for laboring men reduces the number of orphans
that society must care for. All precautions that employers can
be induced to take to make trades less harmful to health, re-
duce the number of needy families that will be deprived of
their natural support when the broken-down father or mother
is thrown out of work. All movements which secure facilities

618 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR?" [Feb.,

for healthy play and schooling and health inspection for chil-
dren, increase chances for right development of them and may
reduce the number of criminals or idlers that the next genera-
tion must punish and feed. Movements which suppress and
banish loan sharks, and provide loans for worthy poor, with no
interest or only nominal interest, which aim to brighten and
cheer the home, are all of highest importance.

Every day we see more clearly that environment is vital;
that law and lawmakers have neglected measures to protect the
poor ; that there are sequences of social cause and effect in the
lives of the poor; and that many measures of social reform are
vitally necessary in the work of redeeming the poor. Hereto-
fore the individual and the family have absorbed attention.
While neither has lost its importance, social reform has claimed
its recognition. The concept of charity must be widened, until
it is seen that the spirit and the letter of Christ's law of social
service are complied with to the fullest in this work of social
reform for the sake of the poor, quite as well as when we feed
the hungry and clothe the naked.

VI.

The evolution of the charity worker is a varied process.
Things have antecedents. There is a technique in producing
a social conscience as there is in producing a statue. Neglect
in either case mars the work and discourages effort, The atti-
tude of many Christians toward the poor baffles analysis. There
are, as suggested, whole classes in society who scarcely know
and surely do not realize that there are poor. There are
whole classes which feel the luxury of pity for the poor with-
out longing for the delight of helping them, resembling those
who believe, as Goldsmith remarked, that " they pay every
debt to virtue when they praise it." There are classes which
aid the poor by throwing money to them and feeling that
they have honored God and satisfied humanity in doing that.
There are classes which complain that all the poor are to
blame for poverty and nothing can be done. And there are
wise and consecrated classes of men and women who honor
the race, who know and love the poor, know and love the
God of the poor, and who are very saviors to them that sit in
the darkness of poverty and in the shadow of death.

1909.] " WHO Is MY NEIGHBOR?" 619

There are methods employed to procure funds for char-
ity, made apparently necessary perhaps, but none the less
undesirable, which are unworthy of the Christian, and consti-
tute a sad enough commentary on the social spirit of the fol-
lowers of Christ. Rightly developed, social conscience would
put an end to them forever.

The problem of training the charity worker — even the Catho-
lic worker — is not easy to solve. But some system is neces-
sary. The emotions of children ought to be developed. They
should early be accustomed to go to the poor, to accompany
elders in their personal service. Conversation in the home
should be so directed at times and always so guarded that
children are brought to see and feel the bond that unites
strong and weak in God. Our schools should undertake, in
similar spirit, to incorporate understanding of poverty and its
relations into the mental formation of the young. College and
university should understand their duty toward the poor and
toward the young whose Christian formation is entrusted to
them. All of this, properly supplemented by the priest and
his teaching, ought to be able to revive the spirit of neigh-
borly service which is extolled by Christ. Future employers
of labor, future physicians and lawyers, future legislators and
social and political leaders, who pass through Catholic homes
and Catholic schools, who sit every Sunday throughout the
year before the pulpit ready to receive God's word from the
preacher; all such who, arriving at the height of power and
efficiency, do not know who is neighbor to them, feel no im-
pulse to generous service, and fail to measure up to the Gos-
pel standard of the Christian man, offer a distressing com-
mentary on either our understanding of our mission or the
efficiency of our methods in carrying it out.

It is not desired, nor is it necessary, that every one engage
in personal service of the poor. Nor can it well be tolerated
that so few do. A bishop in a city of a hundred thousand
inhabitants complained recently in a public speech that he was
unable to find representative men enough to organize a Con-
ference of St. Vincent de Paul in the city, though he could
have all of the money needed for the relief of the poor.
Something very definite can be aimed at in the vague sug-
gestions now made. We can aim to have active workers
enough to do all of the direct relief work that is needed.

620 " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR f " [Feb.,

We can aim to have a big brother for every lonely little fellow
in our cities, between the two of whom a personal bond of
companionship can be developed, thus going back through
system to the sweet individual personal touch between strong
and weak symbolized by the Good Samaritan. In this way,
through system, we undo system. We can rouse the hidden
Christian homes that would admit orphans and take them from
street and from institution, introducing them to the warmth
and love and individuality that home confers. We can pos-
sibly rouse Christian men and women, in positions of trust or
power and out of them, to lend spirit and force to reform
movements that will bring hope, cleanliness, protection, and
cheer into the dull, dead homes of the poor, removing the
larger social obstructions to self-help.

This is monumental work ; great enough to sap the ener-
gies of half a civilization, worthy enough to vie with every other
aim of advancing humanity, imperative enough to justify for
the moment the cessation of art and learning if only such ces-
sation would insure what is sought. But inspiring as is the
ideal which is thus outlined, appealing as is even the hope
that some day this might be realized, one of the chief results
of such an accomplishment would be in the character, lives,
and aims of, not the weak, but the well-to-do, A rich man
is as dear to God and as important to humanity as a poor
man, much in the same way that a man with cuffs is as im-
portant as a man without them. Being rich or poor is an ac-
cident, as having or not having cuffs is an accident. The man
is the important thing.

The Christian community is a social body, and the unity
of that body is dear to the heart of Christ. That there
are rich and poor is a matter of indifference in itself. That
there are some enjoying every advantage, and others deprived
of them, shows disorder. That some are gay and joyous and
others degraded and in distress, while the lormer ignore the
latter and these hate the former, shows that somehow Chris-
tianity fails and Christ is disappointed. The story of the vine
and the branches is true everlastingly as the sum of Christian
philosophy and theology, symbolizing the will of God in human
society. To vary the figure, congestion occurs when too much
blood is centered in capillaries or other vessels at any one spot.
Headache results when much blood presses on the brain. Treat-

1909.] " WHO is MY NEIGHBOR?" 621

ment aims to restore normal circulation. Society is suffering
likewise from congestion. Wealth and learning, leisure and op-
portunity, sympathy and hope, are congested in a small portion
of the social body, while millions starve and suffer and cease to
hope. It is the indirect function of charity in the scheme of God
to restore normal circulation ; to relieve congestion where the
body is burning and vitalize where the body is starving. Grant-
ing that Christian virtues have definite functions in the Christian
body, charity has this great office to perf®rm ; and they who
are most blessed by charity are they who give, not they who
receive. The strong and well-to-do need neighbors in Christ's
sense quite as badly as the weak and suffering need them.
The rich need neighbors in order to adjust themselves to eternity,
the poor need them in order to adjust themselves to time and
the world. Contact with the poor, thought of them, sympathy
for them, is a better corrective of selfishness in aims, narrowness
in views, materialism in motives, than are preaching and missions
and lectures. Some apostle is needed to impress this lesson
on modern society. The strong need the weak as much as the
weak need the strong. It is unnecessary to insist that the poor
do not exist for the sake of inviting virtues in the rich. Many
are selfish, because experience of life has developed selfishness.
The way back to normal Christian views and conduct is by
paths of unselfishness. These lead us among the poor and
lowly, among whom Christ loved to linger. Let men once un-
derstand this, and a day might come when there would not be
neighbors enough to go around.

BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM.

BY LEWIS JEROME O'HERN, C.S.P.

?OME time ago Doctor Charles Chapman Grafton,
Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Fond du Lac,
published a work entitled Christian and Catholic,
in which the bishop "attempted to be Roman
Catholic without the Pope." It seems that the
effect of this effort was to hasten the Romeward movement of
a large number of Episcopalians, who otherwise might have
lived and died in good faith and communion with the Church
of England. Some of the bishop's closest personal friends are
among the seceders.

Now Bishop Grafton' strives to erect a fresh barrier to stem
the Romeward tide, whose flood-gates he himself , was, at least
partly, instrumental in loosing. This he 'has attempted to do
by the publication of a small brochure called Pro-Romanism and
The Tractarian Movement.*

"The Tractarian Movement " is a separate article reprinted
from the July (1898) number of The Living Church. "Pro-
Romanism" occupies the greater portion of the work.

Its author no doubt entirely satisfies himself, but will hard-
ly receive the unqualified approval of all his fellow-churchmen.
We are acquainted with at least one conversion to Catholicity
which was hastened by the reading of the pamphlet.

"Pro-Romanism" begins by saying: "The Church is now
undergoing some trials. It would not be fair or wise to ignore
them. The Church's cause may seem to some to have received
a check in the desertion of a few to Rome. Towards them we
must continue our love, while we condemn their action and re-
pudiate their argument. . . . Reviewing the field and the
course of battle, the points gained and lost and the causes
thereof, we think one mistake has been an overzeal and desire
for the reunion of Christendom. We have centered our hopes
upon it, looked upon it as the one thing needful, and we have

* Pro-Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, by Charles Chapman Grafton, S.T.D.,
Bishop of Fond du Lac. Milwaukee : The Young Churchman Company. 1908.

1909.] BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO- ROMANISM 623

made it an idol. Persons have so dwelt upon it as to give it
a reflexive, suggestive, hypnotic power. The idea so takes
possession of them that when exercised in respect of Rome,
they are hypnotized by it, and no reason or argument can
break the spell. They can for the time see Rome, and noth-
ing but Rome."

In these introductory remarks the bishop realizes that re-
union with Rome presents to those who have dwelt upon it a
vision of such surpassing beauty and loveliness that " no reason
or argument can break the spell." To " break the spell," how-
ever, is his purpose; and in attempting to do this he has not
hesitated to make statements which are not accepted by modern
scriptural authorities, are incompatible with known historical
facts, and are unpardonable in one of Bishop Grafton's sup-
posed knowledge and scholarship.

"The foundation of the principle of the Anglican Church
was expressed," says he, " in its declaration in Convocation in
1534, that the 'Pope of Rome has no greater jurisdiction con-
ferred on him by God in Holy Scripture in this Kingdom of
England than any other foreign bishop.' " *

Papal Supremacy and Infallibility are thus at once seen to
be the storm-center around which the battle is to rage; this
the chief citadel against which the heaviest artillery is to be
trained.

Let us examine into the soundness of this "Foundation
principle of the Anglican Church," viewed in the light of recent
biblical criticism and unimpeachable historical research. "The
Anglican Church," says Bishop Grafton, " holds with the Eastern
that the Rock on which the Church is founded is Christ.
Rome, while admitting this, says: 'It is also Peter and the
Roman SEE.1 But our Lord did not say: 'Thou art Peter,
the Rock, on whom I will build My Church'; but 'upon this
Rock,' which evidently refers to Christ, whom Peter had just
confessed to be the Son of God."f

The Rev. Professor Charles Augustus Briggs, D.D., is an
eminent divine of Bishop Grafton's own church ; his fame as a
profound theologian and a conscientious thinker is world-wide.
He studied at the University of Virginia, the Union Theolog-
ical Seminary of New York, and also at Berlin. From 1874 to
1891 he was Professor of Hebrew, and since 1891 has been

» Ibid, page 9. t Ibid, page 38.

624 BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM [Feb.,

Professor' of Biblical Theology in the Union Theological Semi-
nary. In 1898 he was ordained a priest in the Protestant
Episcopal Church. Among his published works are: Biblical
Study, Messianic Prophecy, The Authority of Holy Scripture, The
Bible, The Church and Reason, and The Incarnation of the Lord.
His great attainments and services to scholarship have been
recognized through honorary degrees by a number of institu-
tions on both sides of the Atlantic, including Princeton and
Williams at home; and Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Oxford
abroad. In a notable article on " The Real and the Ideal in
the Papacy'1 this distinguished scholar says:

" The Papacy has a much firmer basis in a number of texts
of the New Testament, and in Christian history, than most
Protestants have been willing to recognize. . . . Jesus in
His vision of His Kingdom, when St. Peter recognized Him as
the Messiah, said (Matt. xvi. 17-19):

Blessed art thou, Simon, son of Jonah,

For flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee,

But My Father which is in heaven ;

And I say unto thee : Thou art Peter,

And upon this rock will I build My Church,

And the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of God,

And whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in

heaven,
And whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in

heaven

" All attempts to explain the 'rock* in any other way than
as referring to Peter have ignominiously failed. (Italics our own.)

" St. Peter was thus made by the appointment of Jesus the
rock on which the Church was built as a spiritual house, or
temple ; and at the same time the porter of the Kingdom, whose
privilege it is to open and shut its gates. The Church is here
conceived as a building, a house, constituted of living stones,
all built upon Peter, the first of these stones, or the primary
rock foundation. It is also conceived as a city of God, into
which men enter by the gates. These conceptions are familiar
in the Old Testament. The significant thing here is the pri-
macy of St. Peter. He is chief of the Twelve, who elsewhere

1909.] BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM 625

in the New Testament are conceived as the twelve foundations
of the temple and city of God." *

As if realizing the adamantine strength of this text and the
weakness of his interpretation, Bishop Grafton adds that "the
Roman argument that God gave a special supremacy to Peter
is unsound, for if given to Peter, it was a personal privilege,
and personal privileges are not transferable. The allowed trans-
ference of such a power must be expressly stated in the original
grant, and explicit evidence given of its transference."! (Italics
our own.)

Herein he proves too much, for he believes that the power
to preach the gospel, to baptize, and to forgive sins is in the
world to-day, and yet in the "original grant" the "allowed
transference" is not "expressly stated" nor "explicit evidence"
given of its transference. Whence, then, arises the necessity of
explicit evidence concerning the transference of Peter's suprem-
acy? Once more we quote the opinion of the greatest living
biblical scholar of the Protestant Episcopal Church :

" It is evident that Jesus, in speaking to St. Peter, had the
whole history of His Kingdom in view. He sees conflict with
the evil powers and victory over them. It is, therefore, vain
to suppose that we must limit the commission to St. Peter.
We could no more do that than we could limit the Apostolic
commission to the Apostles. The commission of the primate,
no less than the commission of the Twelve, includes their suc-
cessors in all time to the end of the world. The natural in-
terpretation of the passage, therefore, apart from all prejudice,
gives the Papacy a basal authority, as it has always maintained.
Therefore we must admit that there must be a sense in which
the successors of St. Peter are the rock of the Church, and
have the authority of the keys in ecclesiastical government,
discipline, and determination of faith and morals. "\ (Italics
are ours.)

The Petrine text, " feed My sheep," also receives a unique
interpretation at the hands of Bishop Grafton. He says :

" In the restoration of St. Peter, on his threefold profession,
our Lord said : ' feed My lambs ; shepherd and feed My sheep.'
He was to feed the little 'lambs of the New Dispensation and

* North American Review, February 15, 1907, pages 348-349.
t Pro- Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, pages 36 and 37.

tThe Real and the Ideal in the Papacy," by Professor Briggs, Ntrth American Review >
February 15, 1907, pages 349-350,
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 40

626 BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO- ROMANISM [Feb.,

guide and feed the sheep of the Old into the New Kingdom,
which he did. Rome argues that here authority was given
over the shepherds; but this is not stated, but on the other
hand clearly denied; for when Peter asked concerning John,
' what shall this man do ? ' our Lord said, ' what is that to
thee ? ' He was to have no control of jurisdiction over the
other Apostles." *

Only Bishop Grafton can see in the words, "what is that
to thee?" a denial of Peter's authority over the shepherds. The
three preceding verses (St. John xxi., 18, 19, 20) are concerned
with the death by which Peter should glorify God ; and Peter's
question in reference to John — " what shall this man do " —
plainly refers to the death of John. St. John himself tells us
that Christ refers to this, and not, therefore, to the shepherd's
charge :

" Then went this saying abroad, among the brethren that
this disciple should not die; yet Jesus said not unto him he
shall not die, but If I will that he tarry till I come, what is
that to thee?" — St. John xxi. 23. (King James version.)

Professor Briggs says: "There are two other passages upon
which the Papacy builds its authority. The chief of these is
John xxi., where Peter is singled out from the seven who were
with Jesus on the shore or the Sea of Galilee after His resur-
rection, and the command was given to Peter to ' feed the
sheep.' Here Jesus appoints St. Peter to be the shepherd of
the flock of Christ, which, in accordance with the usage of the
time with reference to the kings of David's line, and with ref-
erence to Christ Himself as the Good Shepherd, implies gov-
ernment of the Church. It is all the more significant that this
passage singles out and distinguishes Peter in the presence of
the sons of Zebedee and others, the most prominent of the
Twelve, and that the narrative is contained in the Gospel of
John. Here again it cannot be supposed that this is a com-
mission to St. Peter as an individual. He is given an office as
the chief shepherd of the flock of Christ. If the flock con-
tinues, the chief shepherd must be the successor of St. Peter,
to carry on his work as shepherd." f

Bishop Grafton next appeals to what he terms "the action
of the Apostles" themselves, in support of the Anglican posi-
tion. "The Anglican believes," says he, "what the action of

* Pro-Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, pages 37-38.
t North American Review, February 15, 1907, page 350.

1909.] BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM 627

the Apostles shows them to have believed. They recognized
no supremacy of Peter over themselves. They, as superior to
Peter and John, sent them to Samaria." *

Is this view well taken ? There are four lists of the Apos-
tles in the New Testament, and Peter's name appears at the
head of each list. St. Matthew, who was himself an Apostle,
is the author of one list, and he expressly calls Peter "The
First," *. e.t the Primate or Chief one. (St. Matthew x. 2.)
Naturally we look to the Acts of the Apostles for an authentic
record of apostolic faith and 'practice. Do we find it stated
there that the Apostles " recognized no supremacy of Peter over
themselves " ? It has been well said by a distinguished Angli-
can that the former half of the Book of the Acts "might be
described as the acts of Peter ; for he is mentioned oftener than
all the rest put together (his name occurs more than fifty times,
the next after him being mentioned only eight times) ; he takes
the leading part everywhere; he is mentioned directly, others
obliquely ; he answers for all the Apostles ; and his actions and
speeches are recorded in full."f

Doctor Dollinger, one of the old Catholics praised by Bishop
Grafton for their learning, J gives in The First Age of the Church
the following summary of St. Peter in the Acts :

" It is Peter who appoints that one shall be elected to the
place of Judas, and presides at the election. It is Peter who
stands up with the eleven on Pentecost day to preach the Gos-
pel. And it is to Peter and the eleven that the multitude re-
ply. It is Peter, though accompanied by John, who performs
the miracle on the lame man at the gate of the temple. It is
Peter who, on that occasion, explained in Solomon's Porch the
power of Christ. It is Peter, though both he and John are ar-
rested, who makes the defence. The punishment of Ananias
and Sapphira, the anathema on Simon Magus, the first heretic,
the visiting and confirming the Churches under persecution, were
all Peter's acts. If he was sent with John by the Apostolic
College to the new converts at Samaria, he was himself mem-
ber and President of that College."

This does not look as though the Apostles "recognized no
supremacy of Peter over themselves."

A final word from Professor Briggs on this point : " Peter

* Pro-Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, page 39.

t The Prince of the Apostles, by Rev. Spencer Jones. The Lamp Publishing Company,
Garrison, N. Y., page 41. \Pro-Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, page 25.

628 BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM [Feb.,

was certainly the chief of the Apostles, according to all the
Gospels, during the earthly life of our Lord. The early chap-
ters of Acts represent him as the acknowledged chief of the
Apostlic community down to the Council at Jerusalem . . .
in fact the Council of Jerusalem decided for St. Peter, and St.
Paul himself abandoned his earlier unflinching adherence to
theory in favor of the Christian expediency of St. Peter, in all
of his subsequent life, as is evident from his own later Epis-
tles and from the story of the companion of his travels."*

As was to be expected, Anglican Orders comes in for a
unique defence at the hands of Bishop Graf ton. He says:
" So far as Rome is concerned, it is obvious that during the
past half century she has placed more and greater barriers in
the way of reunion. She has done this by additions to the
faith, and has finally closed the door by a final rejection of
our Orders. Good came out of this, as it was a demonstra-
tion to us Anglicans that the Pepe was not possessed of any
special gift of infallibility. For if there is one thing as clear
and certain as that there is a God, it is that we are possessed
of valid orders and a true priesthood. . . . It is clear that
the Edwardine form of ordination, the form in dispute, retained
the proper Episcopal minister, with laying on of hands, with
gift of the Holy Ghost, with determination of the office and
the recognition of the Sacerdotium" 'f

To those who have studied the question impartially it is
convincingly plain that in the Edwardine form of ordination
every word and idea suggestive of the true Sacerdotium of
Christ were utterly eliminated. This is not to be wondered at
when we know for certain that Cranmer, who compiled the
Ordinal, did not recognize any distinction between a priest
and layman. Being asked one day by Henry VIII. whether
in the New Testament any consecration of bishop or priest
was necessary, or whether mere institution to office was suffi-
cient, Cranmer replied : " In the New Testament he that is
appointed to be a bishop or a priest needeth no consecration by
the Scriptures, for election or appointment thereto is sufficient "\

Hooper, who was associated with Cranmer in the compila-
tion of the Anglican Ordinal, also denied the Eucharistic Sacri-
fice, speaking of the Mass as "a horrible idol." The same

*North American Re-view, February 15, 1907, page 349.
t Pro-Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, page 5.
\ Cf. Estcourt. The Question of Anglican Orders Discussed.

1909.] BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM 629

ideas were held by Cox, Ridley, Pilkington, Matthew Parker,
Sandys, and others, who are justly styled " Fathers of Angli-
canism." Leo XIII., in the Bull Apostoliccz Curce, sums up
the whole matter as follows :

" In the whole Ordinal not only is there no clear mention
of the Sacrifice, of consecration, of the Sacerdotium, and of
the power of consecrating and offering sacrifice, but, as we
have just stated, every trace of these things, which had ex-
isted in such prayers of the Catholic rite as they had not en-
tirely rejected, was deliberately removed and struck out."

In this connection Bishop Grafton forgets that Leo XIII.
was not the first to reject Anglicaa Orders as invalid, for they
had already been so pronounced by two of his illustrious pred-
ecessors— Julius III. and Paul IV. — and the same judgment
was passed upon them by the Greeks, Russians, Jansenists,
and Old Catholics.

The bishop speaks tenderly of these last named as "a small
but learned and increasing body." (Italics are ours.) Is it not
strange that with so much learning they have not been able to
see a fact which, to Bishop Grafton, is "as clear and certain
as that there is a God " ?

Having swept away, as he supposed, the scriptural basis
for the papacy, the bishop now makes his appeal to history
as follows:

"The Church in Britain had been founded independently of
Rome, and for centuries existed apart from her jurisdiction.
When the Monk Augustine came, about 597, the seven British
Bishops refused to transfer their allegiance from their own
Metropolitan to him. . . . The development of the papal
power in England, after the Norman conquest, by the rise of
the feudal system and the influence of the forged decretals,
was constantly resisted. . . . When at length the op-
pressions had become intolerable, God delivered the Church,
and her bishops recovered their ancient rights."*

Whatever excuse there may have been in the past for
maintaining such views, the original historical documents, which
have been placed at the service of the public by the opening
of the Vatican library, render such statements at the present
hour inexcusable. As Doctor James Gairdner, an Anglican
Churchman, says, in his preface to The English Church in the
Sixteenth Century: "The copious stores of documents now

* Pro-Romanism and The Ttactarian Movement, pages 6-7.

630 BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM [Feb.,

available' have rendered many long cherished views untenable.
(Italics our own.) . . . It is to be feared that the truth on
very important subjects will have much prejudice to encounter
before it can win general acceptance."

Rev. Spencer Jones, Episcopal Rector of Moreton, in Marsh,
England, who has written much concerning Papal Supremacy
in the British Isles, says:

"An Ecclesia Anglicana not in conscious dependence upon
the Holy See in spirituals is a phenomenon unknown to his-
tory before the reign of Henry VIII. We take the period ac-
cording to its precise limits, i. e.t from A. D. 597 to 1534;
and we assert that in no single year, from the former date to
the latter, did churchmen in England regard themselves as
otherwise than in conscious dependence in spirituals upon the
Holy See."*

The Rev. Paul James Francis, Episcopal Rector of Gray-
moor, New York, the editor of The Lamp, says:

" Our study of Anglican Church history prior to the Reform-
ation leaves, we think, no room for doubt or question as to
the dependence of the Church of England in spirituals upon
the See of Rome from the coming of St. Augustine to the
reign of Henry VIII. Nor can it be successfully disputed that
the bishops and clergy of the Church of England during this
time in many ways expressed their belief in the Roman Pri-
macy as having authority over them de jure divino and not
simply de jure ecclesiastico. How then did such a radical change
of attitude take place under Henry VIII. towards the Papacy ?
The account of the English Reformation so long current among
Anglicans, to the effect that the Church of England was weary
of the Papal yoke and eagerly embraced the opportunity af-
forded by Henry to shake herself free from ' the usurpations
of the Bishop of Rome and all his detestable enormities/ has
been so thoroughly discredited of late years by our best his-
torians, both secular and ecclesiastical, that no man who has
due regard for his reputation as a scholar will any more ven-
ture to uphold the old-time tradition about the ' Blessed Eng-
lish Reformation.'

" It has been slain by the cold logic of facts.

"The substitution of the King for the Pope as 'Supreme
Head* of the Church of England, so far from being in any
sense the free and willing act of the English clergy and peo-

* The Prince of the Apostles.

1909.] BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM 631

pie, was accompanied in the teeth of national opposition by
sheer brutality of force coupled with political trickery and fraud.
It has been truly said: 'Henry VIII. fixed his supremacy on
a reluctant Church by the axe, the gibbet, the stake, and the
laws of praemunire and forfeiture. ... By such sweet meth-
ods did bluff King Hal dethrone the Pope in the hearts of the
English people. . . . The King substituted himself for the
Pope, the Spiritual Head, wholly and solely because the Holy
See would not violate the moral law and gave him a dispensa-
tion for either bigamy or divorce.' " *

Bishop Grafton has read the early history of the English
Church to little advantage if he does not know that, in 1382,
a Doctrinal commission, perhaps the largest and most represent-
ative ever held in the Pre-Reformation Church, including among
its members the Primate and the Bishops of the province of
Canterbury, condemned not merely as erroneous or untheologi-
cal, but specifically as heretical the proposition that "after Ur-
ban VI. (the reigning Pope) no one ought to be recognized as
Pope, and we should live after the manner of the Greeks, un-
der our own laws."f He has studied church history to little
advantage if he does not know that the English Church, speak-
ing through its Primate, Arundel, in 1414, with the assent of
the bishops and clergy, declared the belief in the Papacy to be
a part of the Catholic faith. He has read English church his-
tory to little advantage if he has not heard of the Convocation
°f !559> presided over by Bonner, Bishop of London. This
was twenty -five years after the Convocation of 1534, at which
date Bishop Grafton tells us " the foundation principle of the
Anglican Church was expressed, that the Pope of Rome has
no greater jurisdiction conferred on him by God in Holy Scrip-
ture in this kingdom of England than any other foreign Bishop."

Was this the sentiment of the bishops in 1559? Let the
Anglican editor of The Lamp tell us :

" If the English Church, as represented by the whole bench
of bishops, was really longing for deliverance from the yoke
of a foreign Pontiff, now is their opportunity to speak out, with
the certain knowledge that any anti- papal . utterances on their
part would win for them the Queen's (Elizabeth's) favour. But
by a unanimous and entirely spontaneous agreement, braving
the royal displeasure, they take just the opposite stand. On
January 24 the clergy in Convocation drew up a set of five

* The Princeof the Apostles, pages 167, 168, 169. fWilkins' Concilia. III., 157.

632 BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO- ROMANISM [Feb.,

articles, Seclaring the belief of the Church of England in (i)
the Real Presence of our Lord's Body and Blood in the Holy
Eucharist; (2) Transubstantiation ; (3) the Sacrifice of the Mass;
(4) the divinely appointed Supremacy of St. Peter and his Suc-
cessors over the universal church; (5) that the authority to
deal with matters of faith and discipline belonged to the pas-
tors of the Church and not to laymen. If the Anglican Church
voiced her real faith and convictions at any time during the
sixteenth century, it surely was in the Convocation of 1559.
And as that was the last time that a free synod of the English
Church has declared what its belief is concerning the Papacy,
and as moreover such declaration is in entire accord with all
previous synodical utterances of Ecclesia Anglicana, save dur-
ing that brief period when in violation of Magna Charta Henry
VIII. under gag-law forced the English clergy to confess a
supremacy in which they did not believe, the question natur-
ally suggests itself, why should not this come to be regarded
as the true faith of the Church of England, inasmuch as the
witness of the Holy Ghost must always be consistent."*

The "gag-law" of Henry VIII. , then, is the explanation
for the rejection of Papal Supremacy in 1534!

In the face of these accepted historical facts, Bishop Graf-
ton tells us that " the Reformers appealed in all they did to
the Fathers and the Ancient Church. Thus they kept the
Church one with the Church of antiquity. Rome, on the other
hand, holds, as Cardinal Manning said, that 'the appeal to an-
tiquity is both a treason and a heresy.' "f

Here is what Manning really said : "And from this (Truth
is the same forever) a fourth truth immediately follows; that
the doctrines of the Church in all ages are primitive. It was
the charge of the Reformers that the Catholic doctrines were
not primitive, and their pretension was to revert to antiquity.
But the appeal to antiquity is both a treason and a heresy.
It is a treason because it rejects the divine voice of the Church
at this hour, and a heresy because it denies that the Voice is
Divine. How can we know what antiquity was, except through
the Church ? No individual, no number of individuals, can go
back through eighteen hundred years to reach the doctrines of
antiquity. We may say with the woman of Samaria : ' Sir, the
well is deep, and Thou hast nothing to draw with/ No indi-

* The Prince of the Apostles, pages 187-188.

t Pro-Romanism and The Tractarian Movement, page 34.

1909.] BISHOP GRAFTON AND PRO-ROMANISM 633

vidual mind now has contact with the revelation of Pentecost,
except through the Church. Historical evidence and Biblical
Criticism are human, after all, and amount at most to no more
than opinion, probability, human judgment, human tradition.
It is not enough that the fountain of our faith be divine. It
is necessary that the Church be divinely constituted and pre-
served." •

From the midst of its context, Cardinal Manning's sentence
exalts the witness of the Fathers and the Ancient Church to
the security of historical memory, speaking with the certainty
God has bestowed on His deathless teacher of Truth.

As a distinguished fellow-churchman of Bishop Grafton has
said : " There is in fact no institution in the world that appeals
more constantly to history than the Papacy. * The magisterium
of the Church/ says Schanz, ' as the living organ, not ©f rev-
elation, but of tradition, could not define a doctrine without
historic evidence.' " f

Many other statements there are in Bishop Grafton's book
which deserve the attention for which truth, when brutally
butchered, always cries aloud. But it would be going beyond
the limits of this paper to analyze them here. The chapters
on " The Roman Doctrine of Purgatory," " Devotions to
Mary," "Indulgences," "The Spirit of the Papacy," "Its
Venality," " Its Attitude to Freedom," " Its Lust for Power,"
and " Its Superstitions," would all require a separate treat-
ment. His discussion of these subjects is such that, a current
periodical has said, it " might easily be mistaken for the utter-
ances of an A. P. A. lecturer."

But in reference to these chapters, and the value he places
upon them as ancilliary to his main argument concerning what
he calls " the foundation principle of the Anglican Church,"
we urge upon Bishop Grafton consideration of the following,
taken from St. Cyprian, whom the late Archbishop Benson, of
Canterbury, so glorified, and whom Bishop Grafton himself so
freely admires :

" He who forsakes the chair of St. Peter, upon whom the
Church is built, let him not feel confidence that he is in the
Church of Christ." |

* Tempgral Mission of the Holy Ghost. Chapter V., " The Relation of the Holy Ghost to
the Divine Tradition of the Faith."

t The Prince of the Apostles, page 217. \ De Unitate Ecclesics, page 195, edit. Baluzii.

BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA.

BY A. DEASE.

JT is nowhere easier to lose one's way than amongst
sandhills ; even in the comparatively small stretch
that lies between Dangonnel and Tillaroan land-
marks are difficult to recognize, and wandering
there in search of the old Abbey and the grave-
yard, that we knew to be near the sea, we found ourselves
circling round, instead of keeping onwards; so, catching sight
of two figures on the shore, we decided to go and ask them
for directions.

Drawing nearer, we saw that there was only one man, the
other figure being a donkey, rendered shapeless by the masses
of dripping seaweed that filled the creels upon its back and fell
in shining brown masses over its whole body. We were high
above them on the hill, but a path winding from the smooth
stretch of beach to the loose sands at our feet showed that,
by waiting where we stood, we would soon have them within
hail.

"The Abbey is it? Faith, then, 'tis a contrary way to be
goin' from this." The old man, shriveled and bent, pulled him-
self upright to answer our questions, resting both his hands on
the thick crooked stick that helped him along. " Maybe
'twould be best for ye to come along of me to the highroad
above, an' I'd set you on the way. Without that ye'll be
wantin' to go climb them banks till you come to Con Teirney's
fishing cot; an' after, when ye'll come to the last toepad on
the right, ye won't take it, but wheel to the left a bit further
on, an' ye'll come to where ye'll see the ruin, only there's an
ug!y gripe, an' a couple of walleens — " We thought that this
was certainly a case where the longest way round was the most
desirable, and we therefore followed Peter Keane, as we learnt
the old man's name to be, in the direction whence we had late-
ly come.

He was the owner, or rather the holder, of five acres of
land, for which he paid two pounds twelve and sixpence a

1909.] BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA 635

year to the agent. Landlords are merely names in those parts,
all are absentees, and most have never even set eyes on the
place or the people who supply the incomes that are spent
elsewhere*

On reaching the highway, we waited to receive instructions
before parting with our guide, but having come so far he an-
nounced his intention of accompanying us all the way.

" G'wanomerat ! " He emphasized his parting word to the
donkey with a whack of the stick, mercifully in a place where
there was a comfortable padding of seaweed. Evidently the ani-
mal understood this adjuration, for it proceeded immediately to
" go along home out of that," whilst its master led us once more
in the direction of the sea. A dull haze hung over the islands
that block the full stretch of the Atlantic, but between them
the waves showed gray and leaden, with angry ridges of white
foam, and even in the bay where the gulls and terns had come
for refuge there was a big heaving swell on the incoming tide,
and we could hear the dash of waters against the rocks, even
before we entered the graveyard.

The founders of the Abbey had done well in choosing their
site if they wished to live remote from the world. With the
sandhills behind, and the broad seas before, the rest of Ireland
felt no nearer than the country over the ocean, and the islands
are merely stretches of rock, bleak and rugged, without vege-
tation or sign of human life. One really felt that churchyard
to be on the verge of eternity.

The builders of old did not lay their foundations in the
sand; they chose the only head of rock for many miles, and
piled their masonry upon it at the point where it juts the
furthest into the sea. Then the westerly gales blew in, and the
flying sand gathered in layers round the walls and over every-
thing, and when graves came to be needed, it was in the sand,
hardened by time, and bound to firmness with bent grass roots,
that the bodies were laid to rest.

Nothing remains of the monastery that once was there ; lit-
tle even of the Abbey itself. There are two gable ends pierced
with early Norman windows, where ivy has grown up and sea
and land birds meet, and quarrel, and finally nest ; and be-
tween these ends, with a broken wall around it, is a great
gray altar slab, weatherstained and worn, but with the five
crosses of consecration still imprinted on it. There are graves,

636 BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA [Feb.,

seemingly,' on graves, and weeds and nettles everywhere. Some
of the mounds have bare crosses over them, some slabs, and
heavy ugly monuments, but many, nay most of the graves,
are nameless.

One reason for our visit was to seek the originals of some
epitaphs we had seen in a magazine, and which were said to
have been copied from tombstones at Dangonnel. On paper
they were delightful, but truth compels us to acknowledge that
they did not exist on stone.

" It's a many I've seen comin' here," said ^ Peter Keane cheer-
fully. "The Lord have mercy on their souls! There's not
much place left in it now. That's where me an* herself'll lie.
over beyont where the Widow Duggan's husband do be buried."
Then Peter pointed to another grave still further away. There
was nothing to distinguish this grave from the others, but the
old man told a real romance of the sea about it.

North of Tillaroan, between the gravelly shore of Killawur-
ity and the sands of Dangonnel, a high mass of cliff stands
boldly facing the Atlantic. Even at low tide the waters swirl
aad eddy round its feet ; but when the waves come dashing
in, breaking against the granite walls and thundering through
the caves that pierce their rugged surface, they form a sight
not easily forgotten. There are great pieces of rock, too, de-
tached from the cliffs themselves, cruel, jagged points, that in
a storm are hidden by the angry waves.

Since we have known the cliffs of Tillaroan a lighthouse has
stood upon their heights, warning passing ships to keep away.
Sailors traveling that coast know that they cannot seek the
shelter of the bay without a local pilot to guide them through
the narrow channel, seemingly so fair and wide, yet holding
death at every point but one, in the merciless rocks that lie
beneath the water.

The village stands in the shelter of the headland, and when
the fishing boats are out it is only an abode of women and of
children. Thus it was the night that Owen Colohan lost his
life. He happened, for some reason, to be at home just then,
but there was not another seafaring man in the place, except-
ing Dan McGHnchy. Daniel, in his day, had been a first-rate
seaman, but he was one of those who do not care for work,
and when the others went away to fish he preferred to remain
behind, ostensibly to mind his lobster pots, but incidentally to

1909.] BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA 637

be within convenient reach of a public house. A storm had
sprung up early in the afternoon, and when the evening fell
it was raging so wildly that not an eye was closed in all the
village, women and children had to keep awake to pray for those
who were at sea.

Fierce as was the gale, there was always a hope that their
own dear ones were away beyond it, but that some one was in
danger from it became known in the village early in the night.

Sounds of distress came moaning through the darkness, and
by the light of fireworks sent up at intervals, those on shore
could judge that the sailors, whoever they might be, had tried
to run for the Bay of Dangonnel, but, missing the channel, were
lying now close to the hidden reef, and God only knew how
long they could keep from drifting on it. Still a man who
knew the coast could even yet have saved the ship, and, frag-
ile as a curragh is, it has been known to live where other boats
were useless.

There were curraghs in plenty on the strand : the question
was who would dare his life on such a quest. A narrow
question, embracing only two men, Owen Colohan, strong with
a lad's strength, and Dan McGlinchy, than whom no one better
knew the coast. Which would it be?

"Toss," said Daniel hoarsely— "Heads!"

A coin was thrown, turned in the air, and fell. Some one
struck a light, and man and boy bent forward. The flick of
the match lit up two anxious faces. Owen's, young, keen,
cleanly, little touched by the passing of eighteen blameless
years. And the other — There was one black sheep in the
parish, and his face it was that now showed gray and livid
before the match died down. For an instant their eyes met
above the coin that lay, with head upturned: then young
Owen's hand went lightly to it.

" Tails,'1 he said quietly. " 'Tis me ! "

Then in the dark they moved towards the curraghs, loos-
ened one and carried her across the shingle. A lantern was
set in her bows, and close beside it was the bottle of holy
water, without which no man fr*m thereabouts will ever put
to sea.

Quick as the toss had been, some besides the two con-
cerned had seen what happened. If the lad chose to go why
should they prevent it ? Dan had his wife and children, all

638 BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA [Feb.,

still young, and Owen's mother was an aging woman, God help
her — Owen knew that she was amongst the crowd that was
gathered round, and having tested both his oars, he turned to
say one word to her. There was no fear in his face, for the
call of the sea was upon him. She would have let him leave
her with a muttered blessing from her strained white lips,
although she felt that death was almost certain. Then, with a
sudden instinct — or did some murmur warn her what he had
done — she seized his arm.

" Is it you to go ? " she questioned with sudden fierceness.
"Clean and honest, is it you?"

"Let me go, Mother!" But he left her cry unanswered.

" Is it you ?" she repeated, clenching her strong hands about
his arm. " Don't dare to go before the throne of God with a
lie upon your lips."

And all this while the precious moments were slipping by.

" Let me go, Mother agrah ! He has his wife an' the childer
at home."

" An' no good he is to them ! Owen avick, come back
out o* that." She was pleading now, but yet she held him
strongly. " I wouldn't say you nay, had it been the will o'
God."

Then he bent his head and whispered in her ear, and even
those about them could not hear the words he said. After-
wards the people learnt them, and Peter told us what they
were. He was ready to go — less than a week before he'd
been to the priest, when the station was in Shane Devine's —
but Dan — Dan wanted time. She loosed her hands and turned
upon McGlinchy.

" Have you done your Easter ? Are you ready to meet
your God ? "

As far as animal courage went, Dan was no greater coward
than his neighbor, but now, in the dim light, the Widow
Colohan saw there was awful terror in his eyes. Then she
went again to Owen.

" Go, avick," she said. " God love you now and forever ! "

For a minute or more they watched the tiny light cresting

the huge waves, then as it disappeared in the darkness the

agonizing keen of a heart-broken mother was taken up by the

winds and carried sobbingly to heaven.

Meanwhile the ship was drifting nearer, nearer to destruc-

1909.] BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA 639

tion. Hope had almost died away, when Owen's light, the
merest speck, gave it sudden life again. Twenty pairs of eyes
were strained into the darkness, twenty pairs of ears sought
for sound of human voice. " Lower a rope ! " The captain's
order was obeyed almost before it had been spoken.

The dot of light was close to now, tossing up and down in
the black chasm of waters. Owen dared not go too close, and
over and over again they flung the rope towards him, but
never near enough for him to grasp it. When at last it hit
the curragh the force of the blow made the frail craft fly ; but
Owen had it safely held. Keeping only a single oar, he made
the line fast about his body. " Heave to ! " very faintly they
heard his call. The cord tightened ; the spray flew from it on
his face; a second pull and he felt the curragh glide from
under him. He was hanging in space against the side of the
ship, clasping his oar with both his hands to protect himself
from crashing against the timbers. Once he flew out, but, as
he came back, the oar received the shock.

A second time the lurching vessel flung him from her and
those on deck heard a splintering crack, a crash, and the
burden at the rope end hung limp and inert, and hurriedly
they drew it in. His chest was bare and wet, but not with
the cold sea waves. A warm crimson flood told its own tale,
and the broken oar that had failed in its task lay shattered on
the rocks below. Once again the thought of safety passed
away from the crew; then the lad opened his eyes.

" Hold up my head," he said.

They did his bidding pityingly, not yet daring to hope that
he could guide them.

" Turn sharp to the right," he went on faintly. " Keep
straight on. Now to larboard, but quickly. Put up a bit of
sail if you can."

It almost seemed that he was wandering, but desperate men
try desperate remedies, and with the sail up the ship bounded
through the darkness.

" Can you see the lights of the village yet ? " he asked.
And when they answered "No"; he bade them keep ahead.

"We see them now."

" Then turn, turn right about to face them."

A moment later the sailors did not need to be told that
they were saved. The great jagged rocks that had threatened

640 BETWEEN THE SANDHILLS AND THE SEA [Feb.

their destruction stood up now a solid breakwater between them
and the storm.

He was still breathing when they laid him in his mother's
arms, and all the long hours, whilst a barefooted lad of Dan
McGlinchy's was away over the mountains for the priest, she
half knelt, half sat, holding him to her and wiping the lips from
time to time through which the life-blood was slowly draining.
With the dim light of early dawn the priest came in and spoke
the words of absolution over him. It was peace already, and
very soon came rest. And they had buried him there only a
few feet from where we sat listening to his story. One ques-
tion we had to ask, and that was whether the time he gave to
Dan McGlinchy had been made use of to good purpose.

"Didn't herself see to that," said Peter. "I was only a
gossoon meself that time ; but the old folk did use to be sayin*
he went to the priest that very morning. Anyways, 'twas, a
good day for his wife and childer, for wasn't he the changed
man with the fret he got ; an' many's the blessin's did the
widow woman get for the hand that she had in it. 'Didn't my
Owen give his life for that one to get time?' says she, 'an'
'tisn't me that'll see him lose his immortal soul after.' Me
mother, God be good to her! used to be sayin' that she seen
her huntin' Dan along the road home, when she seen him next
or nigh the public house; and never would a station be from
this to Killwurity but the Widow Colohan was in it, an' who
would it be takin* her along on th' ass' back but Dan himself,
an' he beside her with the priest as well."

We crossed the stile leading back to the sandhills, and turned
for a last look at the graveyard by the sea. It stood out against
the sky, with the waters only showing on either side of it.
The sun, sinking towards the horizon, was vainly struggling to
pierce the heavy clouds, but it only succeeded in showing a
faint light, just enough to recall the great radiance beyond.

Behind us Peter Keane had gone on his knees, and a glim-
mer of brightness seemed to fall upon his upturned face. His
shapeless hat and the blackthorn stick lay on the grass before
him, his head was bare, his hands joined, and his lips moved
in supplication to heaven for the souls who still were waiting.

TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH.

[VER since John Tauler's Sermon's were first pub-
lished, in the latter half of the fourteenth century,
his fame as a spiritual writer has been established
and has- gone on increasing. There is a vehe-
mence in him that has the urgent power of a
leader. And there is a rare maturity of knowledge of spiritual
conditions displayed in his writings. But the best reason
for the constant reference to him by all kinds and schools
of writers on devout subjects, is that his teaching is integral,
combining the ascetical and the mystical in proper proportion
and perspective. Scarcely any author who treats extensively
of the ways of God in men's lives but quotes Tauler. And
some of them, like the famous Abbot Blosius, are content to
summarize him for the best expression of their own plans of
attaining to the most perfect states of prayer.

Tauler is named and is a mystic. But it would be a sad
error to suppose that these Sermons constantly carry one's
soul far up into the dim regions of contemplative love. No,
by no means; for there is not a simple Christian duty but is
explained and enforced in these living words of wisdom, nor
any ordinary Christian privilege whose plainest value is not ex-
posed and fully commended, and that in many places with much
variety of illustration. The parish priest who would have his
instructions savor of Christ's love, and be fragrant of the unc-
tion of the Holy Spirit, can do no better thing than read Tau-
ler in preparation for his Sunday discourses. Take as an ex-
ample the following on Holy Communion:

This holy sacrament banishes sin. It puts sin to death,
and causes a man to grow strong in a virtuous life, ever im-
parting new graces. It safeguards him from future dangers,
and from the snares of the enemy, snares incessantly being
laid for us. Without its strong help one may easily fall,
either by inner or outer sinfulness. Besides this the holy sac-
rament has a great grace when offered for the souls in purga-
tory ; many souls would suffer there till the last day were it
not for holy Mass, especially when offered by very devout

VOI. LXXXVIII.— 41

642 TAULER' s SERMONS IN ENGLISH [Feb.,

priests. This blessed observance works wonders in purga-
tory, especially during this part ot the year. Bach one
should assist at Mass with deep longings of spirit, uniting his
lervent intention with every Mass offered in the whole world,
especially remembering those who are dear to him, whether
living or dead. We thus feel ourselves present, not only at
the Mass being celebrated before us, but at all the Masses be-
ing offered in the whole world. I strongly counsel any interior
man to hear Mass every day, and to do so in a very recol-
lected spirit. That will suffice ; for the deeper his turning
inwards towards God, the more fruitful is holy Mass to his
soul.

What is the reason why so many who receive this holy sac-
rament— full of graces as it is — show little or no improvement,
even though they remain in the state of grace ? The blame
is their own. They take no diligent account of their venial
sins ; they do not look on themselves with disfavor. These
defects hinder the influence of grace. A man must scrutinize
his life closely and watch his conduct strictly and take mea-
sures to stop any habitual venial sins. Especially should he
guard against idle words — and all words are idle that are not
spoken thoughtfully. This he should do to the best of his
ability.

Thus the ordinary practices of religion are treated in a spirit
just as practical as it is refined with the sentiment of a con-
templative. The new translation is to be furnished with an in-
dex of topics, which will enable a priest to sort out readily
the matter necessary for preparing sermons, ordinary Sunday
addresses to the people. Such an author as Tauler is an en-
emy to the commonplace spirit, too often the defect of those
whose calling requires constantly repeated instructions on the
same list of subjects to the same congregation.

If the approval of saints may canonize an author, then is
John Tauler enrolled among the souls of the just made perfect.
Listen to St. Paul of the Cross, certainly a competent judge
of the worth of all kinds of spiritual writings; for besides be-
ing (as every saint is sure to be) a contemplative, he was al-
so a most practical leader in the devout ways common to all
fervent souls. In advising one of his Passionists about bearing
the stress of care and disappointment incident to the office of
rector, St. Paul says of our author:

My dear Father Rector, now is the time to dwell in the

1909.] TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH 643

depth oi Tauler, I mean in interior solitude, and to take the
repose of love in sinu Dei. There you will learn to perform
well the duties of your office of rector, and to become a saint.

Let a saint praise a saint — the one lifted high on our altars,
the other deeply enshrined in our inner affections; for all who
read Tauler devoutly have a worshipful mind towards him. St.
Paul of the Cross took especial delight in reading Tauler, whose
full meaning on the obscured teaching of contemplation he could
so fully understand, having been granted himself the rarest ex-
perimental knowledge. He esteemed Tauler so highly that he
made the latter's teaching a matter of frequent conversation
among his more intimate associates — all men of highly devel-
oped spirituality. Sometimes at the mere mention of this fa-
vorite author the saint's countenance became inflamed, tears
would rise to his eyes, and his holy joy would break forth in
burning words of praise. Those parts of Tauler's writings in
which he treats of the union of the soul with God, St. Paul
had made entirely his own, for he experienced in himself what
he read in Tauler's vivid descriptions. (See The Oratorian Life
of St. Paul of the Cross. Vol. II., ch. xi.)

It was such allegiance as this, and given by such souls as
St. Paul's, that won for the powerful Dominican of the four-
teenth century the surname of the Illuminated Doctor. Ap-
proved by such witnessing, and further tested by widely ex-
tended use, Tauler is to be reckoned as a most enlightened and
trustworthy guide to Christian perfection in all its grades. And
he is especially helpful in showing the simplest and shortest
way, namely, steadfast self-abnegation, joined to restful acqui-
escence in God's outwardly shown good pleasure, above all,
ready responsiveness to the inward touches of divine grace.
Whosoever grows fond of John Tauler has a plain mark of
God's particular favor in the career of perfection.

It is not a little surprising, therefore, that the Catholic Eng-
lish-speaking public has no version of Tauler in their own lan-
guage. The Protestant English have indeed some of his ser-
mons, more or less mutilated, translated by Miss Winkworth.*
To this fragmentary gift of our author's doctrine no less viru-
lent an anti- Catholic than Charles Kingsley contributed an elab-

* The History and Life of the Reverend Doctor John Tauler, of Strassburg ; with Twenty-
five of his Sermons. Translated from the German, with additional notices of Tauler's Life
and Times, by Susanna Winkworth. London. 1857.

644 TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH [Feb.,

orate preface. Mr. Kingsley was as stupidly ignorant of Tau-
ler's spirit as Miss Winkworth was incapable of finding it out.
But the latter was honest, and gave a little taste of Tauler
with a good heart to a small and wondering public of Protest-
ants. As Tauler's sermons are between 140 and 150 in num-
ber, her work was indeed but a taste of the full spiritual meal
of the intensely Catholic friar preacher. She wrote for those
whose stomach would revolt at pure Catholic teaching, and she
candidly owns that she rejected those discourses which were
" too much imbued with references to the Romish ritual and
discipline to be suitable for the common Protestant people."

Recently an English Protestant minister, Mr. Arthur Wol-
laston Hutton, has procured and published a translation of an-
other fragment of Tauler, about thirty more of the Sermons.*
His work is conceived and executed in a spirit of entire fair-
ness. Different from Miss Winkworth, his purpose is rather
critical and biographical than devotional, as he says :

My idea has been rather to present these sermons of Tau-
ler's in such a form as may aid towards a more accurate
historical appreciation of the man and his teaching. I have
had no thought of either pruning or adapting. He was a
Dominican friar of the fourteenth century, and he held all the
beliefs of his age and of his Church, without any trace of
reserve.

The translation of Mr. Hutton is an accurate rendering, ex-
cept that in various instances lack of familiarity with Catholic
terms has rendered it somewhat obscure; and a too rigid ad-
herence to the exact letter of Tauler's primitive German may
account for further obscurity; because the original German is
anything but clear in some places. Taken as a whole, Mr.
Hutton's book is useful to Catholics, trying as it often is to
one's patience in seeking for a clear understanding of long and
perplexed sentences. The Introduction also gives a brief sketch
of Tauler's career, which is of value. Its further estimate of his
teaching, and especially of his mystical doctrine, can hardly be
called satisfactory. But that is a topic not to be easily man-
aged by a non Catholic, even one as sincere and well-read as
Mr. Hutton.

For information about all that may be said of Tauler, pro

* The Inner Way. Being Thirty-Six Sermons by John Tauler, Friar-Preacher of Strass-
burg. A new translation from the German. Edited, with an Introduction, by Arthur Wol-
laston Hutton, M.A. London : Methuen & Co.

1909.] TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH 645

and con, we refer the reader to the late Father Dalgairns*
article on the German mystics in the Dublin Review of March,
1858. This defence of our great and truly holy preacher is
perfect; the examination into his teaching in spirit and letter
is sympathetic and worthy of the Oratorian's learning and
spiritual gifts.

John Tauler was born somewhere near the end of the thir~
teenth century in the city of Strassburg on the Rhine. His
family seems to have been a good one, in the worldly mean-
ing of the term, for it is said that his father was a town
counsellor. " It is said " and " it seems " — such words as these —
are scattered through all the accounts of his life, which, apart
from his activity as a preacher, is in great part shrouded in
obscurity. At eighteen years of age, perhaps a year or two
earlier, he entered the Dominican novitiate in his native city.
He had, doubtless, fallen under the gentle spell of those friars,
who at that time, and in Strassburg and its neighborhood, had
rendered distinguished services to religion in the domain of
the interior life, men like Blessed Henry Suso. These were
destined to be Tauler's masters in the higher kinds of prayer.

After he had taken his vows he received the best train-
ing his Order could command, and was second to none in
Christendom; for he was found to be a young man not only
of intense religious fervor, but also endowed with high intel-
lectual gifts. His studies were long and were conducted under
the foremost teachers of his age. He made most of them at
his Order's house in Strassburg, spending eight years there, in
addition to the two years of novitiate. For a higher course
four years more were given to him at the Dominican " Studium
Generale," at Cologne, a privilege accorded only to the more
intellectual members of the scholasticate. It is thought that by
this time he had been ordained priest, or was at least in holy
orders. In his own city he must have heard Eckhart preach,
possibly Tauler became his disciple there, as, to some extent,
he certainly did afterwards. Eckhart is by many reckoned as
the most refined of the German mystics, some critics rating him
highest of them all ; certainly he was a man of philosophical
endowments of a very high order. Tauler would have met him
again in Cologne, where Eckhart had the misery of being for-
mally accused of pantheism. He was cited before the Inquisi-
tion there, tried, and acquitted. Considerable mystery still
hangs over the question of his being tainted with some such

646 TAULER' s SERMONS IN ENGLISH [Feb.,

errors, which are too easily alleged against writers who deal
with the more intimate state of union between the soul and God.

At Cologne Tauler studied thoroughly those Fathers and
Doctors with whom he afterwards showed so lull an acquaint-
ance, and whose words he so frequently quotes, such as St.
Augustine, St. Gregory, and St. Bernard, especially the first
named. As to mystical writers, he was fully possessed of the
works of St. Dionysius, and Hugo and Richard of St. Victor;
these he is fond of quoting in his discourses ; and it may be
said in passing that his quotations and references uniformly
exhibit a thoughtful choice of passages always adaptable to
the uses of ordinary intelligences.

Of course so bright a student was made an adept in St.
Thomas Aquinas, then and now and ever to be the foremost
of all the scholastics. His frequent use of Albertus Magnus
shows Tauler to have liked him well and to have assimilated
his peculiarly scientific temper. The Scriptures he knew per-
fectly, quoting them, as it were, instinctively, and always with
aptness, as well as with signs of deepest reverence. Frequent
references to those pagan classical authors who were of a philo-
sophical turn are found in the sermons, as well as other evi-
dences of a mastery of the authors of antiquity.

Thus was Tauler prepared for his career, Could he have a
better preparation — even had his lot been cast in our own
day? Could he have been associated with nobler or holier
company ? He was worthy of these early privileges of a for-
mative sort. And his Order can boast of only a few names
more distinguished in leadership of souls to the perfection of
Christian virtue. Many have thought that he studied also at
the university of Paris, at that time in a flourishing state of
intellectual prosperity. This is antecedently probable, but lacks
some elements of certain proof ; the same may be said of the
question whether or not Tauler received his Order's scholastic
degree of Master of Sacred Theology. There is less room for
doubt here, however, since this diploma was seldom withheld
from one so long retained in the pursuit of learning, so natur-
ally eminent for mental excellence, and so fruitful in his pub-
lic apostolate.

It was about the thirtieth year of his age that Tauler quit
regular attendance in the schools and began his active career
as a preacher — somewhere about 1329. Besides the equipment
of learning, systematic, elaborately assimilated, tested by the

1909.] TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH 647

severest trials of thesis and examination, he was a young man
totally devoted to the perfect practice of the Christian and
religious virtues. His spirituality was of the quieter kind,
variously called the interior life, the mystical states, the life of
recollection, in contradistinction to the use of elaborate methods
of prayer and the stated practice of devotional exercises. These
latter, of course, such men as Tauler faithfully observe, but
with incessantly repeated inward glances and inward search-
ings of soul, rather than the usual sincerity of more external-
ized characters.

We give our readers a brief contrasted statement of both
kinds of spirituality, that is to say, contrasted and yet not separ-
ated. It is taken from one of Tauler's Sermons for the second
Sunday after Trinity :

God's searching of the soul is both active in making it act,
and passive in making it directly receive His action. In the
active way God causes the soul itself to work, and in the
passive He Himself does the searching and acting. The first
is in the external order, the second in the interior life, and
the interior is as high above the external as heaven is above
the earth. The active and outward life is in external devout
practices and good works, according to God's guidance and
the suggestion of God's friends. This is especially seen in the
practice of virtue, such as humility, meekness, silence, self-
denial. The other is far above this, namely our entering into
our soul's inmost depths in search of God, according to His
own words : " I<o, the kingdom ot God is within you " (I^uke
xvii. 21). Whosoever would find God and all His Kingdom,
all His essence and nature, let him seek where He is. It is
in the soul's deepest depths that God is nighest to it, much
nigher to it there than is the soul to its own self. I,et a man
enter that house, leaving outside all that is self, all that be-
longs to the life of the senses in forms and images and imag-
ination ; yea, he must in a manner transcend even his reason
and all its ways and all its activity : — when a man thus enters
his interior house in search oi God, he finds it all turned up-
side down, for God it is that has been seeking him ; and God
acts like a man who throws one thing this side and another
that side looking for what He has lost. This is what happens
in the interior life when a man seeks God there, for there he
finds God seeking him.

This is all roughly put, but it vividly portrays the two ex-
tremes of a good, prayerful life, its active prayerful benevolence

64S TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH [Feb.,

viewed in contrast with its deeply retired contemplation. And
this quotation, which has been selected almost at random, also
shows something of that urgent spirit, that masterful impact
of teaching peculiar to Tauler.

His mystical tendencies were strengthened, as we have al-
ready seen, by close personal association with men whose spir-
ituality was like his own; these were mostly members of his
own Order, but also some of the secular clergy, even laymen.
Such company had a definite influence on Tauler's character.
Who could live with Blessed Henry Suso and fail to be a saint ?
He was one of the most beautiful characters of the era. We
are fortunate in having his autobiograghy, and that even in
English. It has, we fear, gone out of print — a touching, gen-
tle, plaintive narrative of a noble spirit's marvelous journey
through darkness into light. Father Hecker was so much
charmed with it that for many years he carried a copy of it
in his coat pocket for use while traveling back and forth on
the missions. The influence of such men on Tauler, young,
ardent, wholly devoted to divine thoughts, a mind naturally
bright and perfectly possessed of all that study could give, must
have been exceedingly powerful and permanent.

As to his external ministry, Tauler's lot was cast in trou-
bled times, the epoch of the papal residence at Avignon, to be
followed not long after his death by the Great Western Schism.
Men's minds were disturbed fundamentally, too, about curious
questions affecting ordinary Christian doctrine and morality, for
heresies were numerous and widespread, War was universal
and seemed destined to become chronic. Among the clergy
abuses were rife, simony and sloth too often prevailing in both
high and low places, and secular motives, not to say guiltier
ones, influencing many members of the Church's ministry. In
the midst of it all, however, God placed many saintly men and
women. The Avignon popes, though almost unavoidably sub-
servient to the French monarch, were generally zealous pastors
of the Church, and always good men. That they were unequal
to many of the greater tasks is true ; that they were wholly
incompetent is untrue. They were aided by many saintly bishops
and parish priests; and the religious orders, taken generally,
were faithful to their vocations, It is to be noted that just in
this sad age of Avignon, whose misery was but a portent of
the more frightful sorrows of the Great Western Schism, many
heroic servants of God were granted the Church. To them she

1909.] TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH 649

owed her preservation. Churchmen, monarchs, and statesmen,
of every degree of sincerity or of treachery, kept the Christian
world in a state of turmoil, the most tremendous, perhaps, the
religion of Christ has ever experienced. Look at history ; it
is their deeds and misdeeds that monopolize nearly every page.
But the humble saints of the cloister are, with very few excep-
tions, unchronicled. Yet, as a matter of fact, the whole of
Europe was caught and fascinated, and over and over again
brought to penance by multitudes of holy missionaries of all
orders. Contemporary with Tauler was St. Catherine of Siena,
the most marvelous woman saint, as some good judges say,
since the days of Mary of Nazareth, exerting a feminine, nay
a motherly, mastery over all ranks in Church and State, and
ever in the interests of peace and mutual affection for the sake
of Christ. She was a member of Tauler's great Order. The
same Order was destined, in the next generation, to train and
set forth St. Vincent Ferrer, the most amazingly successful
missionary to the Catholic people, nay the most miraculous
ever known since the days of the Apostles.

Any one of such spirits as these did more good work for
God and holy Church, a thousand times over, than all the state-
craft and management and temporizing and expedients, whether
peaceful or warlike, of all the others put together. It was the
preaching to the people of the love of Jesus crucified that saved
religion then, as it can alone save it now or in any age what-
soever— the preaching and the practice of the maxims of the
crucified Redeemer. Among these fierce lovers of heavenly
peace, these ardent champions of patient love, Tauler's place
was very important. He was one of many great preachers
whom Providence gave to the Rhine country, members of the
various religious orders as well as of the secular clergy, who
strived incessantly to divert men's minds, not only from the
allurements of sin, but also from the perplexed condition of re-
ligious affairs, and to fix their thoughts on the serene glories
of the interior life of God in their own souls.

Though preaching in Latin to an occasional audience of the
educated, Tauler usually preached in German to all classes of
the people. The mighty German tongue was a crude dialect
in his time, but its strength was as remarkable then as now,
though it lacked elasticity and all elegance. Tauler made it a
fit medium for an eloquence truly majestic. His field of ac-
tivity was all the Rhineland, from Basel or even Constance down

650 TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH [Feb.,

to Cologne. His opportunity was given him by his great and
learned Order, everywhere venerated if sometimes feared, and
which had houses and churches in most of the larger towns.
He was an ideal preacher, as is plainly evident from the least
acquaintance with his sermons. With soundness of Catholic
faith and its simplest spirit he combined thorough learning,
gentleness of heart, dignity and fearlessness of address. It is
true that his denunciations of the vices prevalent at the time
verged on the extravagant, and excited hostile criticism. On
one occasion some of his violent sermons alarmed his Domini-
can brethren in the convent in which he was dwelling — no cow-
ards themselves we may be quite sure — so that they reproved
him and forbade him further use of their pulpit. But the peo-
ple of the town, though raw and bleeding from his stripes, were
yet deeply and religiously moved; Tauler was no mere destruc-
tive. Their leaders, therefore, petitioned the friars to restore
their hard but not merciless master to them, and he was readily
allowed to resume his discourses, a fine witness to our mystic's
mingled boldness and gentleness. And, in fact, neither he nor
any other preacher could do much good in those desperate
days without offending not only shameless sinners but the usual
multitude of timid and time-serving Christians.

But these sermons, on the ordinary themes of a good and
a bad life, have not come down to us, with the exception of
a few of very doubtful authenticity. What are known as Tau-
ler's Sermons are quite different. They are discourses on the
spirit of a perfect Christian life, and the means of attaining to
it. They may be called conferences on ascetical and mystical
subjects. They have ever been cherished as a priceless treasure
of holy reading for souls who are seeking by the more interior
methods to make themselves perfectly and instinctively respon-
sive to the guidance of the Holy Spirit. They were addressed
to religious communities, mostly in convents of Dominican
nuns. But it is plain that they were not strictly private con-
ferences. From often repeated expressions, and many plain
references, it .is certain that they were really sermons — for the
most part at any rate — delivered in the public oratories of these
communities, in the main room of which were assembled con-
gregations of the people, including both clergy and laity, the
sisters meanwhile being within their cloister, the grating of
which formed one side of the sanctuary.

It is to the zeal of these nuns that we are indebted princi-

1909.] TAULER'S SERMONS IN ENGLISH 651

pally if not entirely for what is known ever since as Tauler's
Sermons. They made notes of his preaching and afterwards
compared and arranged them and gave them to the public.
This was done with intelligence enough as to ordinary ascetical
and mystical matters, though with some defects as to theologi-
cal terms and quotations from Scripture. These discourses, we
are glad to learn, are now, for the first time, translated into
English one and all, and are about to be published. The trans-
lator is the Rev. Walter Elliott, of the Paulist Fathers.

As to further details of Tauler's life, the reader is referred
to the brief History -, so-called, which will be prefixed to the
volume of the Sermons above mentioned. Therein is given an
account of the most important event in his spiritual career.
Perhaps we may call it his second conversion to a life of per-
fection, as he doubtless would himself; there also will be a
touching account of his death. His activity in later life seems
to have centered at the Dominican house at Cologne, in which
city he preached continuously for many years, the " eight
years " mentioned in the History referring only to the last eight
years of his life. He was also confessor and spiritual director
of a convent of nuns of his Order in Cologne. But at the end
he returned to Strassburg, and died there June 16, 1361, and
was buried in the Dominican convent.

Tauler's fame rests wholly on the solid and magnificent
foundation of the Sermons, to be given entire for the first time
in English by Father Elliott's translation. The little book known
as Tauler's Imitation of Christ is undoubtedly spurious. A few
brief spiritual letters to nuns and some little ascetical instruc-
tions, together with some equally short and devout poetical
pieces, may rightly be ascribed to him. The Divines Institu-
tioneSj so often quoted as his, are but a collection of maxims
taken partly from Tauler's Sermons but also from Ruysbroek
and other mystics. A beautiful book of Meditations on our
Savior's Passion, attributed to him, has in recent years been
given a good English dress under the learned and sympathetic
editorship of the late Father Bertrand Wilberforce, O.P. The
book is worthy of our great author and has some of the char-
acteristics of his powerful style. But there is no extrinsic evi-
dence of its authenticity.

IN SICILY.

BY JOSEPH McSORLEY, C.S.P.
I.— MESSINA.

OU ask me to tell what I saw in Catania at the
celebration of the feast of St. Agatha, in Febru-
ary, of the year nineteen hundred and eight.
Per Bacco ! the thing is easy enough to write
about; but where shall I begin ? Might I put in
a word or two about that entrancing ride along the coast from
Messina? I can never forget it when I think of Sicily — the
green glint of the waters washing up from the blue depth
of the Ionian Sea to curl and break in little storms of spray,
first on big, misshapen rocks and then on black and white
stretches of wind-swept sand ; the fie hi d* India so foreign look-
ing and so huge that made the railway seem like the road of an
Oriental garden; the blue, green, orange, and red- schemed dress
of the peasant women at the village stations; and the great bank
of moist morning cloud that clung to Etna with taunting indiffer-
ence to the hunger of my eyes and kept me waiting almost a
day for my first sight of // Monte, cruel old Sicilian despot,
destroyer of cities and of men, irresponsible tyrant who kills
and gives life as best pleases him, and yet, despite every
crime, reigns forever supreme in the wondering affection of his
simple subjects. And the vines and the crags and the castles
and — What ? Hurry ? Vabbene ! But first may I say a
word about the morning that dawned so cold and gray over
the sullen hills of Calabria the day before, when I was passing
in between Scylla and Charybdis and looking with quickened
blood on the coast of Sicily where it runs out in a long low
cape of shiny sand bearing a line of clean, pretty colored fish-
ing huts and a lighthouse, // Fato, on the point ?

And to go a little further back — No ? Diamine ! Then
I shall have to leave out some of the best part, for I cannot
tell you of the previous night when the swift steamer carried
me out of the Bay of Naples. Ah, Che bellezza ! that ten- mile

1909.] IN SICILY 653

sweep of lights along the shore from Posilipo to Torre del Greco !
Down by the sea a line of lamps stretched from Mergellina and
the Via Carraciolo to the Port and along the road to San Gio-
vanni ; higher up was the shining of the Corso ; and above all the
brilliant, gleaming beacons of San Martino and the Vomero.
The music of serenading mandolins and the frantic hubbub of
the porters die away. We are getting well out into the bay.
Over yonder must be Nisida and Procida; here I turn un-
seeing eyes towards old Vesuvius hiding in the dark. Castellam-
mare is in that farther corner. Soon we shall run in between
Capri and the Punta di Carnpanella, and then head for Sicily
in the open sea. The wind is fresh and cool, the moon in its
last quarter; low hung stars peep from behind the Sorrento
hills and flash in between the little and the great St. Angelo.
Every shadow here is full of history. It is a place that all the
world has always talked about and loved each nook and corner.
And then to think that earlier that very day I had been at
Cuma, the oldest Greek settlement in Italy and the mother of
Naples. Coming from Cuma I had seen where St. Paul having
set sail from Reggio " after one day, the south wind blowing,
came the second day to Pozzuoli." And had I not remem-
bered Horace's luxurious Roman as I looked out over the
waters of Baia, and Virgil's trumpeter as I gazed at Cape
Miseno, and — "Stop ? " Ha ragionc, Signer direttore ; I must
begin to talk about Sicily ?

But it is a gloomy recollection that day of my landing
from the Naples steamer in the sickle shaped harbor of Mes-
sina— gloomy because now that busy and proud and beautiful
city is a sepulchre. And it was beautiful. Looking from the
ship one saw back of Quay and Corso a low line of palaces
and tall massive churches and the high spiral tower of San
Gregorio, where once stood a temple of Jupiter, and still be-
yond, the ruined fortress of Castellacio which the great Emperor
garrisoned four hundred years ago. Before him, Frenchman
and Saracen and Roman and Carthaginian and Greek had held
this city ; and first of all had come the pirate pioneers who
gave it birth. Povera Messina / City so typical of the whole
rich and beautiful island, because pursued by misfortune so re-
lentlessly. Half ruined by wars in the seventeenth century,
stricken with a fearful plague in the eighteenth, nearly de-
stroyed by earthquake in 1783, forced to count its dead by

654 IN SICILY [Feb.,

thousands during the cholera of fifty years ago ! Poor Mes-
sina, struggling so desperately to maintain its life too fatally
near that terrible death-line, which nature has traced from
Etna to Vesuvius, and now at length struck down in a visita-
tion that seems almost final.

Other Sicilians have usually said hard things about the
Messinesi, and an American friend of mine, after living among
them for years, was no more kindly in his comments. A sea-
port town, with so checkered a history, it may well have de-
served the name it bore, though my own acquaintance with its
citizens was too slight to let me form an opinion. I recall now
that my first experience in the place was that of being asked
to pay a franc for being landed from the steamer, but I gave
the boatman half a franc and went unmolested on my way.
A boy who carried my bag guided me through an archway to
the nearest church and the priest there directed me to the
Cathedral. Here, after some discussion and my display of
suitable credentials, I was allowed to offer Mass ; not, how-
ever, until a padre had questioned me about the financial
panic in America, obviously — and indeed I heard him say so
— for the purpose of ascertaining from my voice if I was
really and truly an American. From what I had been read-
ing in the Italian papers, my sole source of information, I
gave him an explanation of the crisis quite sufficient for the
purpose in hand, and he allowed me to vest and to proceed
to the altar. Whenever I think of that morning I shall al-
ways recall the distressing, noisy, reckless way in which the
boys served me by fits and starts, and the red wine which I
had never before seen upon the altar. Occasions of distraction
come often to a traveler, but a certain unpleasant pre-emi-
nence attaches to that morning in the Cathedral of Messina.

Messina has probably not attracted a fair amount of atten-
tion from the tourist who, coming from Rome by the night
express or from Naples by steamer, very often hurries on to
Palermo with its wealth of interests, or to Taormina, the great
show-place of Sicily. Yet there is — or was — much beauty in
the old city by the straits. Set in the shadow of bald and
rugged hills that go sweeping southward toward Etna, it made
a pleasant picture to the traveler approaching it from the sea.
There was something unique in the impression produced by the
long row of two-storied palaces with handsome columns that

1909.] IN SICILY 655

ran along the untidy Corso. This Palazzata and Montorsoli's
Fountain — Neptune between symbolical figures of Scylla and
Charybdis — we find frequently reproduced in pictures of the
Marina. Running out easterly from the south end of the
town, and curving round to the north and west, a hook of land,
the Sickle, locked in almost completely one of the best har-
bors in the world and gave great commercial importance to
this city of less than a hundred thousand inhabitants. Oranges,
almonds, olives, and wine figured chiefly in the export trade,
together with lemons, which went out yearly in many thousands
of tons. A Sicilian confided to me his wonder at the immense
cargoes of lemons consigned to America, and asked me how
Americans used them all. He said a torrid summer in Amer-
ica involved so great an increase in the lemon trade of Sicily
that Sicilians were ever imploring the summer sun to beat
down relentlessly upon America.

The Cathedral was perhaps the most interesting sight of
Messina, fire, earthquake, and restoration having made it a sort
of symbolical monument of the city's history. Its granite col-
umns had been taken from an old pagan temple on the light-
house point. The building itself, originally constructed by the
Normans, retained Gothic tombs and Gothic windows. The high
altar, ornate with elaborate carving and beautifully inlaid with
precious stones, was the repository of a mediaeval copy of the
famous letter which the Blessed Virgin is said to have sent to
the Messinesi by the hands of St. Paul; and the feast of Ma-
donna della Lettera has always been celebrated with great en-
thusiasm on the third of June.

Relics of antiquity in Messina are naturally rather scarce
in consequence of the frequent calamities experienced by the
city. Two very beautiful fountains by Montorsoli are note-
worthy, that of Neptune near the Municipio and that of Orion
near the Duomo.

The inhabitants used to say — truly I presume — that the im-
portunate beggars haunting the city were not natives, but Ca-
labrian intruders who came over daily from Reggio in the two-
cent ferry to share Messina's prosperity. I have also heard a
Calabrian speak with scorn of the inhabitants of Reggio as low
people "quite as despicable as the Sicilians." The frequent
instances of this sort of detraction strongly impress upon the
observer a sense of the intense and incurable provincialism

656 IN SICILY [Feb.,

which has been so great an obstacle to the constructing of a
United Italy.

The fish market, usually crowded with fishermen and bar-
gainers and gay colored fish, was one of the notable spots of the
city; but the thing that looms brightest in my memory of Mes-
sina is the ride to the Faro or Lighthouse point. A keepsake
of it is the crumpled trolley- ticket which lies on the table be-
fore me at this very moment and records that I paid forty-five
centesimi for a second-class ticket from the Stazione Marit-
tima to Granatari. That was a memorable ride — alongside the
Giardino a Mare, then out past pleasing villas and an old
monastery King Roger had founded. Across the boat-studded
waters of the strait, behind San Giovanni, rise the rugged cloud-
swept Calabrian Mountains. I pass small fishing hamlets and
the lakes of Pantani, known for their oyster beds and inviting
little restaurant. A walk from the terminus of the tramway
through the village of Faro brings me to the lighthouse, and
on the way I converse amicably with two carabineri about the
fishermen's strike, which has been giving trouble to the police
and keeping Messina almost empty of fish for the last few
days. The soldiers invite me to lunch with them, but I stop
instead at a little stone cottage where tiny waves run up a
gravelly beach and splash and sing merrily beneath my window.
The good housewife fries delicious fresh fish, and serves it with
a plenty of bread and wine and apples, and is content with a
lira as her pay.

I was a solitary visitor at the lighthouse, and the keeper,
when he had at last been found, insisted, despite my protests,
upon accompanying me to the top, being unwilling to risk the
chance of my jumping off the roof. In the mind of an Italian
an American, while highly respected, is liable to do pretty
nearly anything extraordinary. The keeper was of use, how-
ever, for he helped me identify Stromboli and the Lipari Islands,
just visible to the north over the long miles of intervening sea.
Down at my feet the racing tide ran into one of the Charybdis
whirlpools, perhaps the very one where Cola lost his life when
diving to please the emperor. Looking eastward over the
straits, I saw, on the Calabrian side, a picture- village built upon
old Homer's Scylla ; and Cannitello was straight across, scarcely
two miles away. Along the edge of the hills beyond were
Bagnara and Palmi. The white trail of the creeping smoke

1909.] IN SICILY 657

showed where the Rome express runs when it dashes through
the coast towns of Gioia, Rosarno, Nicotera, on its way to San
Giovanni and Palermo. Over behind those hills lay Sant' Eu-
femia and San Roberto and many another town about which
the poor Calabrian exile is asking to-day, as he seeks to learn
if his old parents still survive and if his native village still
exists.

In a guide book you may easily discover the name and
standing of Messina's good hotels; in fact, at the present time
you may see pictures of them in the papers any day. But I do
not believe that Baedeker even lists the place where I spent
my night at Messina. That morning I had approached the city
from the east when I landed from the steamer ; at night I en-
tered it by train, returning from an excursion to the west, af-
ter a long, tiring, and vexatious day of hasty plans, confused
telegrams, and missed appointments. I had been tasting the
bitterness of a friend's unpunctuality and had been made a tar-
get by the fiendishly tormenting boys of Cefalu. I cannot say
what Messina looked like as I entered it by night, for luck
gave me a solitary compartment, and I think I had been sleep-
ing a couple of hours when the porter called " Messina." It
was half- past eleven. A quickly summoned cab, a hasty drive
to a near-by inn, a room engaged for thirty cents, and a race
to a restaurant, where I sat at a little luncheon with my watch
on the table before me, are the most vivid of my recollections.
When the hands of the watch should point to midnight, I must
begin my morning fast. I felt uncomfortable enough in that
Via Garibaldi Trattoria at so unseemly an hour, and doubly
out of place when canzonettista and her friends invaded the room
to order a midnight supper. I wonder where they are now,
those people, and what has happened to my Messina restau-
rant, and whether or not any one died when the walls fell in
on that little Albergo d'Europa, where I lay awake most of the
night listening to a cat wailing an accompaniment to clattering
dishes, and loud-shouted orders in the kitchen below my win-
dow.

The next morning after Mass, in the Church of the "An-

nunziata," I took the diretto for Catania, and what I saw

deserves never to be forgotten. The traveler beholds a long

succession of romantically beautiful scenes — gardens of olives,

VOL. LXXXVIII. — 42

658 IN SICILY [Feb.,

lemon frees, almond blossoms, and high-tinted wild flowers,
framed in the magic colors of the Ionian Sea that dances white
and blue and green, beyond the rough rocks and the shining
sand. Etna peers over the nearer hills awhile, then reveals
itself full length, snow-streaked, cloud*crowned; and all about
are the evidences of past conflict between the mountain and
the sea. Every hill we cross or tunnel through is a frozen lava
stream. The stone fences, the roads, the very houses are
built of lava blocks. The tall cactus-looking bushes, with
immense racket-shaped branches, are the famous Indian fig.
Oranges gleam golden in the green setting of their own foli-
age. Date trees, pines, palms, and olives catch the eye by
turn. Huge oxen that plough, men that dig, women that wash
clothes knee- deep in a wayside stream, shepherds and goatherds
that loiter comfortably along the beach, seem so many figures
from stageland. Dancing waves lap the eerie rocks of lava
islands, romantic castles set upon lonely promontories watch
the sea, wild, fantastic crags that once were fiery fluid stream-
ing towards the ocean have made themselves into a patient
framing of the picture. The bright colored boats, the painted
carts, the glad tinted clothing of the peasants publish the
Sicilian's passion for color; the farms and gardens that stretch
up the hillside in fertile terraces bear witness to the patience
of his labor. Castles and picture towns, here and there em-
bosomed amid the hills or perched upon mountain tops, record
the story of his adventures and his wars; and the broad, grav-
elled beds of dry torrents tell of the one respect in which nature
has been a bit niggardly to him.

My Sicilian companions in the train were very courteous
and much pleased at the enthusiasm which I did not attempt
to conceal. One interesting bit of information they gave me
was that the grapevines growing plentifully along our way
were American vines, and it seemed good to hear that from
this young country of ours old Sicily had learned something
about how to grow the grape.

I had an interesting group in my compartment — a young
university student, an automobile agent, a school director, and a
woman. The educational man, a veteran Garibaldian, was evi-
dently a man of some importance in Messina. The conversa-
tion— as is usual in Sicily — was, in large measure, a wholesale

1909.] IN SICILY 659

condemnation of the central government. Sicilians keep ever la-
menting the lack of improvements and protesting that the mil-
lions obtained by the confiscation of religious houses in Sicily
were taken out of the island and used to make roads in Upper
Italy. The schoolman delivered this epigram: "The Bourbon
government was despotic and enlightened ; our present gov-
ernment is despotic and bestial An amusing and character-
istic feature of the conversation was the cool non-chalance
with which this company of chance acquaintances discussed
topics which would be tabooed by our more prudish English-
speaking peoples.

Lovely scenery without, and interesting talk within, have
made the time speed quickly. We are at the end of the two
hours and forty minutes allotted to the express to cover the
sixty miles between Messina and Catania. Houses and shipping
appear to the left. The train stops and I am in Catania. It
is the thirtieth of January, and the celebration of the Feast
of St. Agatha, the patroness of the city, has already begun.
da vederc!

(TO BE CONCLUDED.)

A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT.

BY KATHARINE TYNAN.

fRAVELINESis a little gray French town steeped
in history. At Gravelines was fought a battle
in which the Spanish Count Egmont, reinforced
by the timely arrival of an English squadron,
vanquished the French governor of Calais, who
had sallied out and captured Dunkerque and the villages about
it. The site of the battle is out there among the immense
golden cornfields, where they are reaping with the sickle to-
day as they reaped in the days of Queen Mary. Occasionally
the plough will turn up trophies of arms and armor, relics of
the battle of Gravelines.

No one troubles himself about the battle to-day, except an oc-
casional English schoolboy. The people of this corner of French
Flanders are peacefully occupied in making money — these by
the tedious harvest of the sea; those by the shining cornfields.
Gravelines, encircled by its triple fortifications, walls and bas-
tions, moats and drawbridges, is quite wealthy, we are told, al-
though it is not easy to imagine big fortunes being made in
such a dead-alive place. It is only quite awake of a market
morning. The shops are few and small. The colored house-
fronts, with their outside shutters, are oddly reticent. The old
town, with its rough cobbles underfoot and its smells on every
hand, is dreary despite its associations. Only now and again
a door of the blank house-fronts will open and you will catch
a glimpse of shining garden beyond the entresol. These Flem-
ish merchants keep their houses entrenched from the world.
A glimpse as a house-door opens and shuts makes it easier to
believe that there are fortunes in Gravelines which run well
into six figures.

Yet Gravelines has a moldering and decaying air. A po-
tent factor in its prevalent sadness is no doubt the great con-
vent of the Ursulines, which takes up quite a quarter of the
town's space, lying shut up and deserted in the midst of it.

1909.] A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT 66 1

So disproportionate is the size of the convent to the size of
the town that one suspects the town to have grown round the
convent rather than the convent to have been an appanage of
the town. In any case, the convent was here while yet the
English owned Calais, before Mary's heart was seared with the
lost town's name. For four hundred years it has dominated
Gravelines. Now it lies derelict — soon to be scattered stone
from stone at the will of the eldest daughter of the Church.

It was originally a convent of the Poor Clares, an English
foundation and an aristocratic one, for each noble dame was
supposed to have twelve quarterings in her escutcheon. After
the capture of Calais by the French, the Clarices, suspected of
treasonable communications with their mother-country, were
expelled, as the Ursulines were expelled last September, and
it has since then, down to the time of the second expulsion,
been a convent of Ursulines.

The strangest thing in the present situation in France is the
real or apparent acquiescence of the people who hold the votes
and therefore the controlling power in their hands in the things
that are being done. Gravelines is clerical, although it has at
present a radical mayor, elected not by the votes of Gravelines
but by the outlying hamlets which considered their interests
neglected for the interests of the town. We were able to get
at the root of the matter because of the fact that we were lodg-
ing in the house of a French-Englishman, an anti-clerical and
much given to meddling in local affairs, thereby apparently not
increasing his popularity. Indeed, with fuller knowledge, we
came to the conclusion that a certain unfriendliness towards
ourselves on the part of some of the people of the fishing -village
was directed not so much at us as at our host. The fishing
village is still, judging by the attendance at the Sunday Mass,
overwhelmingly Catholic. True, the cure's collection was pain-
ful in its meagerness ; and even the sou for the chair, which
was obligatory in the days of the Concordat, was paid not over
willingly ; but, then, the French grow thriftier and thriftier in
the affairs of this world and the next. Yet no vessel will go
out to sea without the prescribed number of Masses for its
safety being offered. It is a condition which the sailors exact
from the masters. And the altar in the church, specially given
to the cause of the seamen, drowned and living, is hung with
all manner of reconnaissances. Yet the will of these people must

662 A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT [Feb.,

•

remain very inoperative, since the work of expulsion of the re-
ligious orders goes steadily on.

Our anti-clerical host, who was a pseudo- Catholic and ac-
knowledged that if the present cure of the Petit Fort had been
in office at the last elections there would probably not have
been a radical mayor in Gravelines, was ready to assist us when
we expressed a desire to see the convent. Through him we
made a somewhat unwilling acquaintance with the aforesaid
radical mayor, one Valentin, who was the prime mover in the
expulsion of the Ursulines. One wenders that M. Valentin
should thrive and occupy an honorable position among the
clericals of Gravelines. He is a printer by trade and sells pho-
tographs and stationery, besides publishing an unclean little rag
of a paper once a week. He was a soldier from the south be-
fore he became a printer in Gravelines, and is a short, rather
dirty-looking man, with a moustache and imperial, his com-
plexion giving one the idea that printer's ink had somehow got
mixed with it accidentally. In fact, he has the look of a rev-
olutionary cobbler much in need of a bath. I don't know that
any one holds him in esteem : yet this is the man who by re-
peated knockings at the door of headquarters in Paris, with the
assistance of the Jewish sous-prefet of Dunkerque, finally brought
about the expulsion of the Ursulines.

However at the moment he was not able to forward our
designs very much, owing to the fact that the convent was
temporarily the property of one of the rich Catholic mer-
chants of Gravelines, who had bought it at the first sale as a
friend of the nuns. In France all considerable property sold
by auction must be put up a second time. We were on the
eve of the second sale at Dunkerque ; but for the moment the
convent was in the hands of good Catholics. Finally we suc-
ceeded in getting the keys, although evidently we were the
object of some distrust on the part of the good people who
had charge of them ; and no wonder, considering the company
we kept. Our host indeed told a cock-and-bull story of us as
possible purchasers of the convent. I felt it might have been
more efficacious if he had told the truth — that here were two
sympathizers with the nuns, one of whom desired to write of
the convent for other sympathizers. But perhaps we should
not have been believed.

Anyhow, after several failures, we found ourselves unex-

1909.] A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT 663

pectedly in possession of the keys, with the warning given to
us as we departed that we should probably never find our
way out, a warning which fell on deaf ears.

We knew the convent from the outside as a great dreary
place of blind walls, with only the fa9ade of the chapel behind
locked iron gates and the front of the chaplain's house look-
ing upon the world.

It was a golden August day; and there was a fair in the
Place, which was crowded with country people. The Hotel du
Commerce and the many estaminets had their rows of people
sitting out in the sun sipping their variously colored drinks.
The steam round-abouts blared, and the children shrieked
with joy as they flew down aeriel railways holding on to pul-
leys. There were even a couple of nuns in charge of some
children at the corner of the Place near the convent, of whom
we asked a question about the house of M. Vaumonier. A
good many curious eyes watched us as we turned the key
with some effort in the double lock of the door. If there had
been time we should probably have had a crowd. But the key
turned, the door gave, and we were inside in a shuttered
darkness which hardly allowed us to see, when we had recov-
ered from the strong sunlight, the debris that littered the floor,
the dirt and desolation of everything. Plainly no one had
cleared up after M. Vaumonier. In the convent there was
no such litter, though the nuns had had only a few hours of
warning. From the floor we picked up a picture of the Sacred
Heart with an English inscription and the visiting-card of an
English priest. This latter reminding us, with a sense of won-
derment, that barely twelve months ago, and not somewhere
in the Middle Ages, was the convent desecrated.

It was a relief to leave the shuttered and disordered rooms
for the aumonier's garden, thought hat too was sad enough,
with everything overgrown, nature fast taking back her own,
and the ordered garden becoming a wilderness. A bough of
beautiful pale roses flapped in our faces as we emerged into
the garden, where we could imagine the priest with his bre-
viary, pacing to and fro in the summer weather.

By a door across the garden we entered the convent proper,
finding at the end of the first corridor the broken door by
which the enemy took possession. This was in the early
morning of September 28, 1907. Only the preceding evening

664 A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT [Feb.,

did the 'nuns know for certain that they were to go. They
say that no one in Gravelines believed till the last moment
that the expulsion would really take place. Why should it?
For four hundred years the nuns had carried on the work of
education among the children of the townsfolk. They had
helped the poor in their need. At the time of their expul-
sion a peasant of the neighborhood came forward to testify
that in three generations his family had been helped by the
nuns to the extent of four hundred pounds. M. Valentin got his
warrant not from Paris but from Dunkerque. The sous-prefet
there had had in his hands for some time the act of expulsion,
pending the decision of the Council of State in Paris, for the
nuns had appealed against their expulsion. So suddenly did
the blow fall, that it came on the very eve of the day when
the school-children, scattered over land and sea for the sum-
mer vacation, were to return, and the nuns had been busy all
day making preparations, with not the slightest idea of what
was about to happen. A hundred ladies of Gravelines stayed
up with the nuns that night, setting things in order against
the hurried flight. The men were fortifying the convent, so
that there should be at least some trouble before it was taken.
At half-past three in the morning M. I'aumonier said his last
Mass, giving Holy Communion for the last time to the nuns
and their friends.

They had just finished breakfast when the cry came that
the troops were in the street. Within a few moments the
convent was blockaded by a company of the noth Regiment,
with seventy gendarmes. What an employment for those
strapping fellows we saw running so lightly about the bar-
rack-square at Gravelines, fetching water from the great spouts
with gargoyle heads, over against the old church, which for
centuries have supplied Gravelines with water ! They seemed
light- hearted boys as they indulged in good humored horse-
play with one another; strapping fellows too, though an Eng-
lish Tommy Atkins would have been amazed at the disorder
of their undress. One wonders what thoughts were in their
hearts when they, inheritors of a great military tradition, were
given the task of expelling the harmless nuns, whose only sin
was that they had served God in quietness and their fellow-
creatures for Him.

To be sure the resistance was merely formal. Catholic

1909.] A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT 665

France, except in Brittany or La Vendee, seems to take these
despoilers easily. The convent bell began to toll in the dark-
ness before dawn to tell the townspeople the hour had come.
Two or three workmen arrived in a cart escorted by gendarmes.
Then came M. Brisac, the sous-prefet of Dunkerque, displaying
his Jewish sallowness in his uniform of a "civil-general."

As the clock struck six the sous-prefct ordered the Police
Commissary to summon the nuns to render up their convent.
That functionary knocked three times at the convent door, sum-
moning the nuns to open in the name of the law. There was
no answer, except that fr©m the windows of the chaplain's
house a woman's voice could be heard calling : " Down with
the robbers ! " The cry was taken up by the crowd which had
gathered in the street. Then the workmen's tools were brought
into requisition. There was the grating sound of the tools
against the locks and hinges. It took twenty minutes of hard
work before the doors were opened. At last they fell back with
a crash and the messengers of the law entered, breaking down
door after door, till they came upon the sacred enclosure which
had been inviolate for four hundred years.

They sought the nuns first in the chapel, which was empty,
and they found them eventually praying in their cells. After
that the work of expulsion was simple and easy enough. With-
in a few hours the nuns had left their convent ; within a few
days they had said good-bye to Gravelines forever.

It took some time, that work of expulsion ; and no wonder,
for never was there such a maze, such a rabbit-warren as the
convent. If the nuns had chosen to lead their evictors a dance,
they might have held them at bay for an indefinitely long time.
We had hardly listened to the keeper of the keys when she
told us that we should not see the convent in an afternoon
and that we should never find our way out. We went near
to proving the truth of her words.

For myself, I may say that my visit to the convent was one
of the most eerie experiences of my life. A wall twenty- five
or thirty feet high shuts in the many convent buildings. The
Place and its crowd seemed nearly as far away from us as they
might from one of the quiet dead in the graves out beyond
the gates. There Were literally miles of corridors; twisting
staircases up, twisting staircases down ; mysterious passages, low,
unlit places, fast-shut doors, a relic doubtless of the seizure;

666 A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT [Feb.,

all eerie and strange. No wonder those evictors lost their way
last year.

Perhaps it was the mephitic vapors of an old, old place,
into which the air had never entered freely, for the convent
buildings going round their gardens were several stories in air
and beyond was the thirty-foot wall. Anyhow, one felt curi-
ously nervous and did not dare stray away from one's com-
panions. It would be so very easy to get lost. Doors slammed
somewhere in the labyrinth and one's heart was in one's mouth.
We climbed up one of the corkscrew staircases and came out
in a long corridor, ankle deep in chaff and straw. There was an
unpleasant feeling of its association with illness, as one sees it
laid down in the London streets ; but it was only the bedding of
the nuns which they had found time to scatter before their flight.

All down the long corridor were the black apertures of the
open cell doors. The day was dazzlingly bright outside, but
it might have been shadowy dusk for its suggestion of terrors
within. At first I would not be afraid. I reminded myself that
in this place had been nothing that did not belong to God. I
approached one of the cell- doors and found on it the little
picture of the Sacred Heart with the inscription : " Cease, the
Sacred Heart of Jesus is with us ! " which is so familiar to
Catholic lips and hearts. How could one be afraid ! I looked
within, Half the cell was taken up by a coffin- shaped bed, a
mere hollow box, half-filled in yet with the chaff and straw,
which, without mattress or paillasse, had made a good enough
bed for the brides of Christ. By the bedside was a little wooden
set of shelves. There was hardly room for any other plenish-
ing. Fifty such black open doors followed one another down
the long corridor, ankle- deep in chaff and straw. My compan-
ions had climbed yet another corkscrew staircase to an upper
corridor, calling to me not to climb up till they found out what
was above. It was of course the mephitic vapors ; but a panic
seized me. I stood at the foot of the staircase. On one side
stretched the long corridor with its many doors. On the other
side was a fast-shut door. Supposing — supposing— that door
were to open and a very old nun to come forth, asking by what
right those echoing male footsteps sounded in the sacred en-
closure of the convent! And how they did echo— the voices
and the footsteps ! And one of the party was a traducer of
the nuns. I looked from the closed door to the dwindling per-

1909.] A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT 667

spective of open doors, and I fled upstairs to the solace of com-
panionship— to another corridor of cells, knee- deep in chaff and
straw like the one below it.

Never was such a place for losing your way. We thought
to have our correct bearings and came out at a place we had
left behind us long ago. We doubled back on our own foot-
steps like one of the unfortunates lost in the Australian bush.
Never were such loops and twists and turnings. And always
the low doors and the cobwebbed passages, cheerful enough
when the nuns were here, with fire and light and human speech
and human faces, but now somewhat terrible.

The cloister ran round a rose garden fast going back to
desert, the roses and snapdragons and poppies still reaching
long arms out of the undergrowth to clasp the feet of the deso-
late Calvary in the midst of the garden. Last year the garden
would have been ordered and beautiful. Last year the cloister
windows, clear and bright, would have looked on roses. The
cloister walls, where we saw the marks of crucifixes and shrines,
would have been white and bright. Now the cobwebs draped
everything, and far down here in the well of the buildings was
a chilly darkness.

Under our feet in the cloisters were the graves and the
memorial brasses — some wonderfully preserved — of those noble
dames, the Clarices. We walked above the bones of those
good ladies of long ago. Since the visit was an unexpected
one we had not provided ourselves with writing materials, and
it was a few days later that we came back, this time accom-
panied by a small Irish and Catholic boy, his thoughts more
intent on the fruit in the nuns' garden than any associations
of the place, instead of the incongruous and uncongenial anti-
clerical. We came back to transcribe what we could decipher
of the inscriptions on the brasses of the Clarices. One, by the
way, had a wonderful representation of a nun, perfect from
coifed head to sandaled feet.

I and the small boy wandered to the garden while the in-
dustrious one, on his knees, by the aid of a candle-end, tran-
scribed the lettering. The inscriptions were semetimes Latin,
sometimes English and French. Now and again they were in-"
decipherable. The footsteps of the centuries had worn some
away completely. But here is one of them which we tran-
scribed.

668 A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT [Feb.,

Hie Requiescat Corpus JE. D. M.

Purissimae et Venerabilis Matris ac Dominae
D. Mariae Socii nobilis Anglise Heroinae
Primae hujus Coenobii Abbatissae
Fundatricis et auctricis

Praecipuae

Obiit virtute singulari et sancto

Patrimonio Praedita XXI Novemb.

Anno Dom. M.D.C. XIII.

Another inscription of later date would go to prove that
the Ursulines of Gravelines, who had succeeded those noble
Dames Anglaises, the Poor Clares, gave hospitality to an Ab-
bess of the Order. Her inscription runs :

Here Lieth the Body

of Rev. Mother

Mary Josephine Frances Summers

Abbess of the English Poor Clares oi Aire

Who Departed this life Nov. XXI

Anno Domini 1831
Aged 53. Professed 26 years.
Requiescat in Pace.

The one who rose at last from his knees, having deciphered
these inscriptions, was startled to find himself alone, with a
sense of being lost in the labyrinth. Again it must have been
the mephitic vapors that made his head swim and his heart
beat. We were quite out of sight and hearing in the kitchen
garden of the nuns, where a small boy, innocent of nerves, was
rifling the fruit trees, although it was only round one twisted
passage, through the community- room, by the side of a stair-
case, and there was the open garden door. But it was a place
where one needed clues.

The garden, its fruit and vegetables rotting to decay, must
have been a pleasant place last year. The thirty-foot wall
made a glorious wall for fruit. Fig trees, nectarine, plum, pear,
and apple trees had been trained upon it; and between the
fruit trees were empty niches where the guileless shrines of a
convent garden had been last year. The flower and vegetable
beds were a wild tangle. The statue of St. Roch, with his dog
and his wounded knee, was almost breast high in prairie grass.

1909.] A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT 669

The door of the grape house was broken from its hinges
and the purple clusters dropped with their own richness. There
had been pitiless devastation in the garden. M. Valentin, with
that philanthropy characteristic of his class, had thrown open
the convent gardens to the children of the town. And what
havoc they had wrought ! The fruit must have been under-ripe
when they were there, for now what was left of it hung golden
on the boughs or purple on the ground where the beautiful
fig tree had been torn from the wall and left to lie. Great
branches of the other trees were broken and lay upon the
ground. The fruit garden was of a piece with the ruin and
desolation everywhere.

In the chapel the altar had been torn from its foundations
and only a heap of masonry left behind. The chain of the
altar lamp had been wrenched and a length of it dangled in
the dimness overhead. One forlorn statue yet occupied its
niche, as though it had been overlooked and forgotten. What
will become of it and of the stained glass windows when the
convent is razed to the earth? For we have since heard that
the sale of the convent to the nuns* friend has been upset; and
the town, represented by M. Valentin, has acquired it for six
thousand pounds, a grotesquely inadequate sum, even for the
site.

In the wall of the chapel is a tablet telling of a founda-
tion for Masses by two Seigneurs — father and son — and the
bequest directs that, at the end of every office in choir and
after the conventual Mass, two Religious will sing: " O Good
Jesus, grant the grace of conversion to England, our father-
land." And the choir will repeat three times in answer: "So
be it."

One wonders over this bequest of the tw© Seigneurs living
under le Grand Monarque, and over what tie there was between
them and England. Also, if the trust holds good to this day.
Fancifully one wonders if these prayers of the undowered Eng-
lish nuns may not have found an answer when heretical England
opened her doors to those robbed and driven out by the eldest
daughter of the Church. They seem to have been excellent
business men those Seigneurs — father and son — and to have
tied up their trust pretty tightly. By the way, heretical England
made as generous a provision for the priests and nuns turned
out of France in the revolution as though they had been her

670 A SEQUESTRATED FRENCH CONVENT [Feb.

own children. Eight thousand priests and thirty bishops found
refuge in England in 1793. England not only harbored them
as she is harboring the French congregations to-day, but gave
them support as well. By orders of the government appeals
were made for their sustenance from the Protestant pulpits of
the country; a great house at Reading was given by govern-
ment for their lodging ; and the University of Oxford printed,
at its own expense, four thousand copies of the New Testament
and of the Roman Breviary for their use. Who shall say that
these things have not brcught, will not bring, a blessing to a
people of so much honesty of purpose and liberality of mind
and action ?

The great parlors with their grilles, the community-room,
the refectory, were all echoing silences. The convent itself,
except for the dust and the spiders, except for the chaff and
the straw ankle-deep in the corridors, had a swept and gar-
nished air. Only in the community-room, with the pious texts
set in the walls, were some odd moldering fruits lying in the
deep window ledges, as though they had been laid out with
the intention of drying them.

Our anti-clerical friend, who had been on the lookout for
oubliettes and other things out of which might have been
manufactured some musty scandal, found nothing at all. Once
his hopes rose high, as we discovered a subterranean passage;
but it only led under the street to the externat, where the nuns
taught the poor children of Gravelines for so many generations.
Again he lit up the wine cellar; and, entering without stoop-
ing, received a blow from a beam that dazed him for a time.
I think he was half-inclined to ascribe it to the malice of the
Poor Clares. At the last we were at fault for a few minutes.
Our friend turned pale as we considered the possibility of be-
ing shut in all night; and he flatly refused to accompany us
on our second visit.

" A las les Voleurs / " stared at us from the dank outside
wall of the convent as we closed the door of the chaplain's
house behind us, with a feeling of relief. Certainly the air
was poisonous and there was a suggestion of death about every-
thing. The poor nuns hoped to come back. Well, Messieurs
les Voleurs have made that impossible.

NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY.

BY A. HILLIARD ATTERIDGE.

|HE oft-quoted saying that " history is a con-
spiracy against the truth" is too sweeping to
be true in itself. It would be more correct to
say that a great deal of what passes as history
is a travesty of the truth, and this is more es-
pecially the case with history written in a partisan spirit,
and above all the history of a conquered people set forth by
their conquerors as an apology and justification for the con-
quest. There is even a danger of the story of a nation's ex-
tinction being misrepresented when the writer is one of the
vanquished race, inspired with a traditional hatred of the
victor.

Irish history has suffered much at the hands of prejudiced
historians. It must be confessed that many histories of Ireland
are little better than political pamphlets on a large scale. But
any impartial critic must admit that the greatest errors lie on
the side of the apologists of the English conquest. For hun-
dreds of years they have had the ear of the world, and they
have succeeded in persuading many Irishmen themselves that
the invaders from Great Britain had to deal with a race that,
whatever had been its glories in earlier times, was lagging be-
hind the civilization of the rest of the western world. Ireland,
we are told, had not recovered from the miseries of the Dan-
ish wars. Much of the land was a roadless wilderness. It
had no trade, no manufactures. Its tribesmen gained a poor
living from a primitive agriculture and the keeping of cattle.
The culture of the once famed " golden age " of Ireland had
disappeared in the destruction of the monasteries by the
northern pirates, and there had not been time to restore it
when the long wars with the Normans began.

But history is being rewritten. It is becoming, as the
Germans say, "objective/* that is, inspired by objective facts
viewed in a judicial spirit, not by the subjective views of the
writer. It is no longer the fashion to repeat the traditional
view without testing it by careful consideration of every frag-

672 NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY [Feb.,

ment of contemporary record. This process is at last being
applied to Irish history, and the result is a startling revelation
for those who have so long accepted the old view of the cen-
turies between the first raids of the Norman barons in the
reign of Henry II. and the devastating conquest under the
Tudor sovereigns, Henry VIII. and Elizabeth.

This period has been dealt with in a very remarkable book
by an Irish Protestant writer, Mrs. Alice Stopford Green.*
Mrs. Green is the widow of John Richard Green, whose Short
History of the English People made him famous some thirty
years ago. She not only helped her husband in his work, but
she has herself been all her life a painstaking student of his-
tory, and is the author of many books on the subject that
have won her a well-deserved reputation. She is the daughter
of a Dean of the Protestant Church of Ireland, and was edu-
cated at home.

Her latest work throws a flood of new light upon the story of
four centuries. It deals only incidentally with wars and battles,
for the writer's researches were directed to discovering what
was the condition of the Irish people in the four centuries
that ended with the wars of Elizabeth's viceroys. It is divided
into two parts. The first deals with trade and industries in
mediaeval Ireland, the second with the state of education and
learning. In her preface Mrs. Green says:

Many reasons have prevented the writing of Irish history.
The invading people effaced the monuments of a society they
had determined to extirpate ; and so effectively extinguished
the memory of that civilization that it will need a generation
of students to recover and interpret its records. The people
of the soil have been, in their subjugation, debarred from the
very sources of learning, and from the opportunities of study
and association which are necessary for the historical scholar.
. . . It was the fashion among the Tudor statesmen, very
confident of their methods, to talk of " the godly conquest,"
" the perfecting of Ireland." The writers of triumphant na-
tions are enabled to give the story of their successes from
their own point of view ; but from this partial tale not even
the victorious peoples can learn what the warfare has im-
plied, nor know how to count the cost, nor credit the gain.

Most readers of Mrs. Green's book will find on its first page

* The Making of Ireland and Its Undoing, 1200-1600. By Alice Stopford Green, London :
Macmillan & Co. 1908.

1909.] NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY 673

information that will come to them as a surprise. Even after
the waste and ruin of the Danish wars Ireland was famous
through western Europe as a rich and prosperous land. The
monk Adhemar of Angouleme wrote of it in the year 1000 as
" that very wealthy country," and centuries later'a writer, whose
report is preserved in the State Papers of Henry VIII., de-
scribed it as "none other but a very Paradise, delicious of all
pleasaunce, to respect and regard (/. e.t in comparison with)
any other land in this world." It was this reputation of Ire-
land that lured the first Norman adventurers across the narrow
seas from Pembrokeshire. Henry II. came after them, received
their assurances of fealty, and made treaties with the Irish
chiefs. But before long it was clear the result would be not
the English domination of Ireland, but the building up^of a new
state of things, in which Norman baron and Irish chief would
be semi-independent rulers of what both regarded^as their com-
mon country. As Mrs. Green puts it :

Norman, French, and Welsh knights seized: lands, built
castles, declared themselves conquerors, and, themselves van-
quished by Irish civilization, turned into patriots in their new
country. "For," said a mediaeval Irish writer (A. D. 1315),
"the old chieltains of Erin prospered under these princely
English lords, who were our chief rulers, and who ^had given
up their foreignness for a pure mind, their surliness for good
manners, and their stubbornness for sweet mildness, and who
had given up their perverseness for hospitality." Succes-
sive generations of newcomers cast in their lot with their
adopted land, till there was not more than twenty -miles>bout
Dublin that obeyed English law.

Just as after the Danish invasions the Danes of Ireland had
been largely welded into the native race, so after the first years
of strife there was a blending of Norman and Celt. Burkes,
Fitzgeralds, and other families of the invaders became " more
Irish than the Irish themselves." There was good prospect
that a prosperous Irish nationality would be created by the co-
operation of men of Celtic, Danish, and Norman-English blood.
How much was actually achieved in this direction is brought
to light by collecting from a hundred scattered sources facts as
to the condition of Ireland in later mediaeval days.

Ireland was not a wilderness peopled by quarrelsome clans.
It was a busy and prosperous land, with a growing internal
VOL LXXXVIIL— 43

674 NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY [Feb.,

and external trade, that could only exist under settled condi-
tions. Roads and beaten tracks traversed the country. One
hears of the building of many bridges. The internal waterways
were largely used. There were fleets of small craft on the
Shannon, and the ports were full of native and foreign shipping
for the trade with the Continent. The fairs held at stated times
all over the country provided for the needs of internal trade,
but the trade by sea with other countries was considerable.
The "ships of Ireland" were well known in the Hansa ports
of Hamburg and Lubeck, at Antwerp and Bruges, Bordeaux
and Vigo, and as far away as Naples. Delegates of the mer-
chant guild of Lucca settled in Ireland. Philippe le Hardi
gave a general safe conduct for Irish traders to travel in the
cities of Flanders. Irish chiefs used to make the pilgrimage
to Compostella, sometimes more than once in their lives. So
regular, in fact, was the over-sea traffic between the Irish ports
and Corunna and Vigo that it was a common thing for letters
from England to Spain to be sent by way of Ireland. Bays
and inlets where there are now only a few fishing boats were
then busy with shipping. As late as 1570 it was reckoned that
there were in Ireland no less than eighty-eight " chief haven
ports." Most of these places have now lost even the tradition
that a forest of masts once clustered along their sea fronts.
Take one instance out of many. Ardglass, on the coast of Down,
is now a quiet seaside village with a few boats. It was once
the chief port of the O'Neill. Mrs. Green describes its wharves
and forts; its storehouses, one of them a building 250 feet long.
A few fragments of ruins and traces of the old trade road are
now all that is left to tell of long-vanished greatness.

" Tall ships " from Venice were often seen at Cork, then
one of many busy ports along the south and west coasts. But
the chief trade was with Spain. What a picture we have of
the change between past and present in this account of one
of the old ports of Kerry :

A [traveller in the eighteenth century describes the relics of
the ancient wealth of Dingle (a forlorn village now) — the
houses * ' built in the Spanish fashion with ranges of stone
balcony windows, this place being formerly much frequented
by ships of that nation who traded with the inhabitants and
came to fish on this coast ; most^of them are of stone, with
marble door and window frames," One Rice carved on the

1909.] NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY 675

house lie built (A. D. 1563) two roses and beneath them a
notice that "At the Rose is the best Wine." While travel-
lers " well refreshed" themselves, "the Irish harp sounded
sweetly" in their ears. The country round was full of peo-
ple industrious and prosperous, every parish having its own
church, many of them very large, as appears by their ruins ;
while several of the mountains, though but of poor and stony
soil, are marked by old enclosures and other signs of former
culture on their sides even to the very tops.

Their business relations with other countries led Irish trad-
ers and artificers to settle abroad. There were Irish vintners,
goldsmiths, and merchants in London; Irish weavers, mem-
bers of the Corpus Christi Guild of Coventry ; an Irish mayor
of Oxford in 1551. There was a prosperous Irish colony in
Bristol. When King John of Portugal built the princely mon-
astery of Batalha he employed two Irish master builders. In
Genoa, as early as the twelfth century, Irish merchants founded
a hospital for their sailors. There were many prosperous Irish
traders settled in Flanders and Spain.

The language of this Continental trade was Latin. This
fact alone shows that Ireland had its schools, and Latin was
then the lingua franca of Catholic Europe. The imports were
not only such useful commodities as iron and salt, but things
that told of a high level of prosperity in the country — silks and
satins, cloth of gold and embroidery, arms and armor, carpets,
wines, and spices. The exports that paid for this trade were
hides and tallow, cattle, wool, corn, and agricultural produce,
polished marbles in blocks and slabs, and enormous quantities
of timber from the forests, planks, laths, staves for barrels, and
abundance of oak.

The fisheries were a great source of wealth, and thousands
of barrels of fish left many of the ports each year. The linen
industry was famous throughout Europe. The serge d* Irlanda
as it was called, of the wool weavers was long celebrated in
Italy. Irish friezes were sold in half the fairs of the Continent.
Irish leather was so good that one reads of a French knight
wearing "an Irish belt" as if it was something to be proud of.
Many were the craftsmen, skilled in working in gold, silver,
and other metals. The quantity of gold and silver used in the
arts in Ireland would in itself be enough to prove the prosper-
ity of the country in mediaeval days. When the exterminating

676 NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY [Feb.,

Tudor wars began Ireland was well worth plundering. Mrs.

Green says:

Elizabeth's lieutenants and those of Henry VIII. did cot
journey there to make a trade in raw hides, or take their pil-
lage of naked savages living in caves, nor even of a people who
had attained the level of Hottentots or Zulus. The hardships
they endured were paid with richer spoil.

Our author gives further proof of this by gathering together
from a hundred sources interesting details to make up a pic-
ture of the home life of the people in town and country — the
well- furnished houses, the rich farms, the decorative work ex-
pended on dress and household belongings, and indicating a
leisured, comfortable life. The women held an honored place
of influence. The better classes spoke Latin as well as Irish,
and some learned English.

Hospitality was lavish, " without sorrow, without gloom in
the house " ; and even in the towns it was held a shame to
have an inn or send a traveler to seek entertainment there.
In every homestead the mistress kept an oaten cake whole for
the stranger. The saying ran: "Three preparations of a
good man's house : ale, a bath, a large fire." . . . "Though
they never did see you before, they will make you the best
cheer their country yieldeth for two or three days, and take
not anything therefor " ; this account, like all others we have
from Englishmen, was written in a time of war and poverty
(A. D. 1590).

The knowledge and love of music seem to have been very
common. The peasant and small farmer had well-defined rights
and could easily win a sustenance from the land. The towns
man had his town charter and the protection of his guild.

This state of things was destroyed by a deliberate plan,
perfected by the famous statesmen of Elizabeth's days, who de-
termined not only to extend English rule beyond the Pale, in-
to the country of the Irish and the Anglo Irish, but to destroy
the trade of Ireland to make way for that of England, and this
was to be effected by rooting out the manufactures, wasting
the lands, and reducing their holders to the position of serfs
under new landlords. And when the people resisted these pro-
ceedings the war became one of extermination, embittered fur-
ther by the fact that the Irish clung to the old faith, and the
Elizabethan adventurers were professors of the new-made re-

1909.] NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY 677

ligion. To use the words of a contemporary writer, " all the
might of English arms, all the devices of English policy, were
called into play to plunge the Irish into the abj ss of the worst
barbarism."

The life of Ireland in the days of prosperity before this
disaster was not one of mere material well-being. The Irish of
the Middle Ages, whether of the pure Celtic or the mixed
Norman race, were a cultured people, eager for learning. It is
not possible to summarize the evidence that Mrs. Green has
collected concerning the state of education in mediaeval Ireland.
Its force depends on the marshaling of hundreds of details.
Some points may be briefly noted. The organized study of
Brehon law, and the transmission and perpetuation of Irish
poetry by the bards, was kept up to Elizabeth's time. Not only
Irish chiefs, but Anglo- Irish barons had the ollamh and the
bard as officers and attendants of their household, and were
themselves as proud of a reputation for learning as of glory
in arms. The widespread knowledge of Latin has already been
mentioned. An Irish chief, when an envoy brought to him an
English document, bade the messenger read it aloud in Latin
so that his council could understand it. A shipwrecked captain
of the Armada, thrown on the shores of Connaught, then
wasted by English war, tells how he met some savage- locking
half naked people, and was surprised when they addressed him
in Latin.

In the wholesale destruction of the Tudor wars much of
the manuscript literature of mediaeval Ireland perished, but
enough remains to show how scribes were kept busy translat-
ing the books of other countries into Irish and multiplying
them. Not the abbey only but the castle had its library.
Irish students went to Oxford and the universities of the Con-
tinent, and many of them became professors in other lands.
Beside the full stream of Gaelic lore, there was the sister cur-
rent of Latin learning, of double service, because Latin was at
once the language of the Catholic Church and of intercourse
with other nations. It is notable that the links with the life
of the Continent were closer during these mediaeval centuries
than the intercourse with England.

Half of Mrs. Green's book is devoted to this study of the
culture of Ireland in the pre- Reformation centuries. She tells
how, when the Irish schools were broken up, and Elizabeth

678 NEW LIGHT ON IRISH HISTORY [Feb.

had founded in Dublin a college for bringing up the sons of
the Irish chiefs and Barons as English Protestants, the tradi-
tion of Irish learning was kept up, not only among the re-
fugees in the schools of the Continent, but at home by monks
who lived in cabins near their ruined cloisters, teachers of il-
legal schools that met in secret, and scholars who, in pov-
erty and obscurity, wrote books that were multiplied by end-
less copying. The printing press was in the hands of the
government and employed only in turning out proclamations
against Irish rebels and catechisms for the conversion of the
people to the State religion. In England the press was giving
the world accounts of the barbarism of Ireland before the Tudor
conquest. Since silence was imposed on the defence, and much
of the evidence destroyed, it is no wonder that the popular ver-
dict was in favor of the accuser, who, by blackening the record
of the Irish nation, hoped to justify his own treatment of it.

Mrs, Green has done a splendid work in her scholarly re-
futation of this legend and in giving to the English-speaking
peoples this noble picture of pre-Reformation Ireland. It will
inspire Irishmen to persevering effort for the betterment of
their country. And, in the following words, it also surely has its
message for Englishmen :

The story of the English in Ireland shows with what stub-
born will and long tenacity this people too is endowed. But
it also demonstrates how dangerous and unprofitable a foun-
dation for a lasting settlement is a false and perverted history.
For centuries, a number of circumstances aiding to perpetuate
the first error, the English have been constantly misled as to
the main facts of Irish life, both political and economical.
And the natural results have followed. There are men, how-
ever, in England who believe in Ireland ; many desire her
prosperity ; many follow justice for its own sake, and recog-
nize that right order will never be established on legends of
ignorance. This book will have served some purpose if it
should call attention to the importance for Ireland of a critical
study of national history corresponding to its revived study
in other lands. For the true record of Ireland will be power-
ful to efface the prejudices, the contempt, and the despair that
falsehood alone can foster ; and to build up on solid founda-
tions of fact the esteem and consideration that must form the
only honorable relation between two neighboring peoples.

Bew Boofcs.

If we are to be guided strictly by

TEN PERSONAL STUDIES, the title of his latest volume,* the
By Wilfrid Ward. brilliant author of Problems and

Persons has, in the present instance,

withdrawn from problems to concentrate on persons. Indica-
tions there are in plenty, however, throughout the new volume
that he has not abandoned his favorite field without casting
"one last lingering look behind." The essays which make up
the book have already appeared in various Reviews. The
subjects are: J. A. Balfour; T. H. Delane ; R. H. Hutton;
Sir J. Knowles ; Henry Sidgwick ; Lord Lytton ; Father Ry-
der ; Sir M. E. Grant Duff ; Leo XIII. ; Cardinal Wiseman ;
John Henry Newman; Cardinals Newman and Manning.

The study on Mr. Balfour is confined to the crisis in the
Unionist party during the years 1903-1905 ; when the leader,
according to the belief of a great part of the political world,
was completely overshadowed by Chamberlain. The latter had
come out for a policy of protection, and, it was asserted, Bal-
four agreed with him, but had not the courage to adopt
the protectionist principle. On the contrary, he delayed, and
evaded anything that would commit the party either one way or
the other. This policy of delay, Mr. Ward pleads, so far from
being an evidence of weakness and vacillation, was a master-
piece of Fabian statesmanship. The question, the party, the
country, were not prepared for any immediate resolution. The
question had not been sufficiently studied, there was no possi-
bility of evolving at the time any fiscal system that had even
a chance of success. Balfour saw this ; he had the courage to
say so, and to resist the Chamberlain movement; with there-
suit that, by 1905, he was master of the situation, and the
Chamberlain star had suffered eclipse.

Mr. Ward draws three interesting sketches of the famous
editors, Knowles of the Nineteenth Century ; Delane of the
Times ; and Hutton of the Spectator. Of the three, he says
Hutton, who occupied the smallest figure in public and social
life, exercised the most lasting influence:

Hutton alone of the three has left behind him, in the

* Ten Personal Studies. By Wilfrid Ward. New York : Longmans, Green & Co.

680 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

thoughts which he published to help an earlier genera-
tion, a legacy which is still prized by our own (as the sale of
his republished essays from the Spectator attests), and which
will descend to our children along with the tradition of the
noble and austere character, which made his great thoughts
so intimately a part of himself.

The most prominent features of the Sidgwick poitrait are
his intellectual pessimism, combined with practical optimism;
an exacting critical judgment which no system could satisfy ;
and a wide interest in everything pertaining to life, not ex-
cluding Catholicism. The paper on Lord Lytton, whose lofty
and candid character is vividly set forth by a few strokes of
Mr. Ward's brush, turns chiefly on the peculiar gifts of Lytton
which were capable of making him either a great statesman or
a great poet. But, like all mortals, he had to choose between
incompatible possibilities. The papers on Leo XIII., and the
three English Cardinals, are highly appreciative, though the
writer permits himself the liberty cf mild adverse criticism from
time to time.

In the last one, in which he shows that his interest in the
"Problems11 is by no means extinguished, he holds up in con-
trast the characters of Newman and Manning; and though be
does ample justice to the greatness of Manning, it is easy to
perceive that W. G. Ward's preferences have not been inherited
by his son. Newman and Manning, so runs his summing up,
represented, respectively, two types of Catholicism: Manning
is the man of the Counter- Reformation ; Newman is the type
of the patristic era. Newman's temper had little in common
with that of the "liberal" Roman Catholics; it was "far more
akin to that of More and Erasmus, who rejected scholastic
subtlety and undue dogmatism, but were, nevertheless, filled
with enthusiasm for ancient ways and venerable tradition."
" He was keenly alive to the liability of the human reason to
error in its conclusions of the things of God. He inveighed
against those who, like Louis Veuillot, ' exalted opinions into
dogmas." He would have found his kinship in the present
day with the learned Benedictine rather than with the " liberal"
Catholic. The contrast is brought to a finish by turning it as
a flashlight on one of the problems:

The modern opposition between liberalism and intransi-

1909.] NEW BOOKS 681

geance is, indeed, an opposition between temporary excesses on
either side at a time of transition. So far as the underlying
permanent antithesis is between elements reconcilable with
Catholicism it must resolve itself into that between the types
which we have styled Jesuit and patristic respectively. The
former is the type which rejoices especially in authority
and discipline. It is proper to the Church in a state of de-
fensive warfare which keeps the intellect under military dis-
cipline. The latter form of Catholicism is perhaps more gen-
eral in the Church when she is promoting peaceful civiliza-
tion, giving to individual initiative free scope and encourag-
ing original learning and thought as important factors in her
well-being. These two types are largely those symbolized by
the two English cardinals. Manning, in spite of his opposi-
tion to the Jesuits, belongs unmistakably to that type of Cath-
olicism of which they are the most distinguished representa-
tives, and Newman rather to the type preserved in the Bene-
dictine Order, owning as fellow-creatures such writers as
Mabillon and the Congregation of St. Maur ; though he
added an element of active and free speculation more akin to
his beloved Augustine, or to the mediaeval schoolmen, than
to the calmer labors of the monkish historian.

The paper on Grant Duff is founded on the Diaries, which
Mr. Ward considers to be the record of a very exceptional
mode of life. In order to put them in a light for sympathetic
appreciation he furnishes as a background the character of that
life, marked by an " unworldly, almost religious, devotion to all
that is interesting in life, with little thought of personal
advantage."

Though, presumably, Captain Ma-

NAVAL ADMINISTRATION han writes for the profession as
AND WARFARE. well as for the public, his method,

which, as somebody has said, is

to deal with a few large, plain, simple ideas, contributes to ren-
der his work intelligible and interesting to the lay mind in a
measure very much beyond the degree in which this quality
is usually found in books of experts. His latest volume,* which,
thanks to the universal interest taken in the spectacular cruise
of out fleet to the Orient, is likely to be eagerly read, sets
forth, in a clear and highly interesting exposition, some of the

* Naval Administration and Warfare. By Captain A. T. Mahan, U. S. N. Boston:
Little, Brown & Co.

682 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

principles of naval warfare which everybody can grasp and
apply to one of our own greatest national problems. Of the
ten essays which constitute the book, the two that obviously
are meant to convey a lesson to the American public, and
thereby help to educate public opinion, have for their subject
the Russo-Japanese war. One which was written during the
course of the war, before the fall of Port Arther, abounds with
forecasts and opinions which the events, and the subsequent
publication of information that was unknown to the author,
strikingly confirm. The second article, written in March, 1906,
is a retrospect directed to estimate the relations of the siege
and capture of Port Arthur upon the naval operations of both
sides; and the lesson to be learned by our own country from
the mistakes made by Russia in dividing her naval strength so
that it was cut up piecemeal by the enemy.

Before the outbreak of war, so runs Captain Mahan's criti-
cism, Russia kept sending her vessels, one by one, to the
Pacific; but she retained at home the Baltic squadron, till it
was unable to reach the others before they were undone by
Togo. Furthermore, a similar error was committed by di-
viding the Pacific force between Port Arthur and Vladivostock
with a similar result. The dangers of this policy, says Cap-
tain Mahan, were as clear as daylight before the war opened;
and Russia, which was not a government browbeaten by po-
litical turmoil, had no excuse for ignoring them. The writer
describes an imaginary discussion at the Russian council board ;
but while he writes of Russia and speaks retrospectively, his eye
is on America and the future, as is shown by the tenor of the
last objection offered to despatching the entire fleet eastward :
" In a representative government would doubtless be heard the
further remark: 'The feeling in our coast towns, at seeing no
ship left for their protection, would be so strong that I doubt
if the party could carry the next election.' Against this there
is no provision except popular understanding; operative per-
haps in the interior where there is no occasion for fight."

The Captain's lesson to the American people is that the
principle which the Russians, to their discomfiture, violated
holds also with regard to the naval situation of this country.
In virtue of our geographical position, the momentary location
of the fleet is not of so much importance as its simple exist-
ence in adequate concentration anywhere. If war were to

1909.] NEW BOOKS 683

begin with the fleet divided between the Atlantic and the Pa-
cific, "one- half may be overmatched and destroyed as was
that of Port Arthur; and the second, on coming, prove inade-
quate to restore the situation, as befel Rozhestvensky." Then,
with the emphasis of capitals, the Captain lays down his coun-
sel : " Concentration protects both coasts, Division exposes
both. IT IS OF VITAL CONSEQUENCE TO THE NATION OF THE
UNITED STATES THAT ITS PEOPLE, CONTEMPLATING THE RUSSO-
JAPANESE NAVAL WAR, SUBSTITUTE THEREIN IN THEIR AP-
PREHENSION ATLANTIC FOR BALTIC, AND PACIFIC FOR PORT

ARTHUR. So they will comprehend as well as apprehend."

Another instructive essay in the volume treats of the value
of the present cruise of the fleet in the Pacific. The Captain
attaches great importance to this measure as a means of ac-
quiring lessons of immense value which the navy could learn
in no other way, except in the perilous school of actual war.
Incidentally, he emphatically warns against the dangers that
would arise to this country if Asiatic immigration were per-
mitted.

Who was he, and what did he

HOW I CAME TO DO IT. do ?* He was an Anglican clergy-
man, who fervently dedicated him-
self to celibacy. When any of his clerical brethern entered into
matrimony he became exceedingly annoyed. " We have no
business," he would urge, "to divide our hearts, but should
give up our whole mind and affection to the great work com-
mitted to us, and refrain from everything that can hinder and
hamper our mission." And he had all the appropriate texts of
Scripture at his fingers' ends to fire at the heads of his recal-
citrant brethern in proof of his position. But into this para-
dise of his parsonage one day entered the woman, and with
her the tempter. Miss Dorothy Brown thought it would be
a feather in her cap if she could trouble just a little bit
the fierce aggressiveness of this champion of celibacy — and
very soon Mr. Blackswhite is desperately in love. Then the
texts become susceptible of quite another interpretation ; and
he sees that if he is to do the best possible work for God
among his flock nothing can be of greater service than a worthy,

* How I Came to Do It; or, The Celibacy of the Clergy. By Rev. J. Blackswhite. Edited
by Mgr. John S. Vaughan. London: Burns & Gates.

684 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

Christian helpmate — than, in short, Miss Dorothy Brown — and
so what he does is to get married. The author — for the fiction
that the work is autobiographical is not sustained — devotes
some care and a moderate allowance of mild humor to clothing
his statement of the Anglican position towards celibacy in the
guise of a story. Thus far the first four chapters of the book.
Then chapter the fifth opens with the warning that eighteen
years have flown by, enriching Mr. Blackswhite in their pas-
sage with thirteen children. From that to the end the thread
of the story becomes thinner and thinner, while it serves to
hold together a series of arguments and answers to Protestant
objections, relative to the Roman character of the early English
Church, the defection of the Reformation, the unity of the
Catholic Church, and the authenticity of her claims. The lec-
tures of a Catholic priest, Father White, serve to set Mr.
Blackswhite thinking seriously ; some subsequent interviews and
letters achieve his conquest ; and what he comes to do finally
is to enter the Catholic Church. The book will prove pleasant
reading for converts who look back on the way that they have
trod, and who may be a little impatient with their former com-
panions who fail to discern the road. It attempts to combine
two distinct kinds of intellectual work which only a master
hand can successfully fuse together — polemics and the novel.

Among the rules that must be

THE CONVENTIONALISTS, observed to secure good results in
By Benson. the novel with a religious or po-

lemical purpose, the first one is

that the author must not attempt to cover too much apolo-
getic ground. A single point of doctrine or discipline, or a
single historical phase is quite enough for one story. This rule
is observed by Father Benson in his latest as in all his
other novels. The Conventionalists * endeavors to depict the
worldly, unspiritual, mechanical, routine temper of English
Protestantism as it exists among the higher classes. Another
rule is that the reader must be entertained and pleased as well
as instructed — and Father Benson complies with this condition
also.

The central figure of the story is a young man, the second
son of an English county magnate. While still a Protestant

* The Conventionalists. By Robert Hugh Benson. St. Louis : B. Herder.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 685

he displays a genuine ascetic insight, and, consequently, is
thoroughly disgusted with life as it is interpreted by the tem-
per, occupations, convictions, and ambitions of his family and
his class. To the family he is a sort of ugly duckling, and
rather a guy for his younger brother. He is, at the beginning,
in love with a young lady, who, however, is attached to the
eldest brother, the heir of the house. Falling under the in-
fluence of Father Benson, Mgr. Yoland, and Mr. Dell, an
ascetic in a kind of Bohemian surroundings, he soon becomes
a Catholic ; and, furthermore, gives indications which set his
three mentors the task of deciding whether or not they are to
encourage him to join the contemplative life, or to marry the
lady. His conversion is the signal for his expulsion from his
father's house. The family easily reconcile themselves to his
disappearance. But then the heir dies; and they are con-
fronted with the dreadful prospect that the family acres are to
pass into the hands of a Papist. Worse and worse, he soon
announces his intention of becoming a monk, which to his
father implies the intolerable consequence that the family pro-
perty will go to the Abbey. The three messengers who bring
the news of the son's resolution to the father have a terrible
quarter of an hour. But the paternal indignation, and angry
resolution to prevent his son's vocation, promptly vanish on
finding that the latter relinquishes all claim to the estate, which,
therefore, will go to the youngest son. Father Benson's charac-
ters are types rather than individuals, though Algy, the hero,
and his friend, Christopher Dell, do not represent a numerous
class in English society. More widely distributed is that of
Lady Brasted, a convert, who loves to be " ecclesiastical " in
her drawing-room, elegant in her devotions; who in her desire
to be Helpful, busies herself overmuch about promoting con-
versions, vocations, and marriages; and to have a finger in
whatever pertains to the cure of souls. An entertaining story
which hits squarely its serious mark.

Though the title * clearly tells to

AN IMMORTAL SOUL. anybody acquainted with Mr. Mai-
By W. H. Mallock. lock's intellectual tastes that the

purpose of his clever novel is
philosophical, we must read far into the book — an agreeable

*An Immortal Soul. By W. H. Mallock. New York : Harper & Brothers.

686 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

task — be'fore we perceive, to use a colloquial phrase, what he
is up to. The first chapter introduces a highly refined, spright-
ly, somewhat unconventional young girl, living amid aristocrat-
ic English surroundings, with an aunt, while her parents and
her sister are resident abroad. There is some cloud over the
family lineage; and she and her sister never meet. The ap-
pearance of the one anywhere is always preceded by the de-
parture of the other. A mutual interest soon develops be-
tween the girl, Miss Vivian, and a man much older than herself.
She is under instructions for confirmation by a worthy clergy-
man, who becomes alarmed at the worldly society into which
her new admirer leads her. He eventually falls in love with
her himself. Certain neurasthenic or hysterical symptoms in-
dicate that her constitution is not quite normal. An attack of
illness supervenes, during which she falls under the care of a
distinguished scientific medical man, who is acquainted with
her and her family. He has her removed elsewhere, and, with
the approval of her father, refuses to reveal her whereabouts.

Before she goes, Mr. Barton, the clergyman, asks her to
marry him, and receives, he believes, a favorable answer.
When Miss Vivian has departed, her sister, or half-sister, Miss
Wynn appears on the scene. Though very much alike in ex-
ternal appearances, the newcomer, morally and religiously, is
the antithesis of her religious, correct, ladylike sister. She is
from the first a complete tomboy, and soon behaves in a very
indecorous fashion. As Dr. Thistlewood, the friend of the
family, ultimately discloses, her past is unmentionable. She de-
parts and Miss Vivian returns. Then Mr. Barton presses his
suit on the latter. Thistlewood intervenes by revealing to
Barton the tragic secret that the two sisters are not two but
one — a case of double or dissociated personality. Mr. Mallock
discusses, through the medium of his characters, this psycholo-
gical question, from the " scientific " and the religious point of
view. He has taken his cue from such works as that of Dr.
Morton Prince, of Boston, on the case of tMiss Beauchamp.
Incidentally he introduces into the controversy the views ex-
pressed on subconsciousness and double personality by Father
Maher, S.J., in his "Psychology," relative to the case of
Felida; and makes the scientist's claim that another famous case
exhibited the precise characteristics on the absence of which, in
Felida's, Father Maher relies to brush away the theory that, in

1909.] NEW BOOKS 687

such cases, personal identity ceases to exist. From the novelist's
standpoint Mr. Mallock's book is a clever piece of work, full of
action, sparkling dialogue, and vivid pictures of character and
manners. He manages the mystification element dramatically
enough to make the story not a bad second to Jekyll and Hyde ;
and describes powerfully the struggle that Barton passes through
when he finds out the secret. From the philosophical point of
view his close is rather impotent ; and he does not squarely
raise the issue which is involved in the problem of these ab-
normal phenomena, that is, not immortality but responsibility.

If the widespread interest centered

IMMORTALITY. for some time past on the investi-

By E. E. Fournier D'Albe. gation of subconsciousness, telepa-
thy, hypnotism, and spiritism has

done nothing else, it has certainly assisted in completing the
rout of the materialism of the nineteenth century. We can
scarcely imagine a graduate in science of the London Univer-
sity coming forth in the days when Huxley was in his zenith,
to offer, in the name of physical science, any theory in support
of the immortality of the soul; or to claim that the phenomena
of spiritism — real or alleged — contributed to confirm that doc-
trine. To-day we find all this is changed ; and men of science,
like Lodge, Crookes, and Russell Wallace, not to mention many
minor names, in physical research, see, in abnormal psycholog-
ical phenomena, strong evidence of immortality. The latest con-
tributor to this line of speculation, Mr. Fournier D'Albe, at-
tempts to weld into a synthetic whole some arguments based
on physics and physiology, with others drawn from spiritism,
to prove the existence of the life beyond.*

Any discussion of his speculations and theories on the na-
ture of the soul, which he holds to be a substance of some
sublimated quasi-material stuff, cannot be entered upon here
for want of space. Suffice it to say, that the scholastic will find
himself muttering repeatedly an uncompromising Nego Majorem,
or Nego Conclusion*™,, though he cannot fail to be interested at
the ingenuity of some of the speculations. In the latter part
of the book, dealing with spiritistic phenomena, the writer
cites a number of the best known and most discussed cases;

New Light on Immortality. By E. E. Foamier D'Albe, B.Sc., London, M.R.I.A.
New York: Longmans, Green & Co.j

688 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

and follbws the beaten track of theory as to their nature. He
outruns his more cautious scientific brethren, by admitting that
some of the alleged messages from the dead have been of a
character to establish the identity of the correspondent.

Our interest in reading a book writ-

AS OTHERS SEE US. ten by a foreigner about Amer-
ica lies, as a rule — to which the

exceptions are a De Tocqueville, a Bryce, and very few others
— in what it tells us about himself. Perhaps, too, we are curi-
ous to know just what kind of photographs of ourselves are
circulated abroad. To estimate fairly this handsome book be-
fore us,* we must not take its ambitious title literally ; but, in-
stead, interpret it according to the definition given of its scope
by the author in his introductory remarks. He declares he
does not pretend to have written a book about America, His
purpose was merely to mark some characteristics, not material,
but mental and psychological, of American Hie.

The volume reveals the author as a modest, cultured, kindly
gentleman, with fair powers of observation, who considers the
things of the mind rather than material assets, as the genuine
index of a people's rank. He has seen, during his several visits
to the United States, something of New York, Washington,
Boston, Chicago, and Pittsburg. He has been in the slums
and in the drawing rooms. And he has supplemented his per-
sonal observation by extensive reading. He is not a fault-finder;
and, in general, regarded the country with friendly eyes. What
has struck him most in the national character is the great will-
power, enterprise, and exhaustless energy of the people. The
tribute of statistics to American greatness, which he cites on
various points, has value for him, not because they show the
riches of the country, but because they testify to the quality
of the people who have produced the wealth. He treats of
alien immigration ; the conditions of labor ; educational system;
the negro question; the intellectual status; American art and
literature ; and, of course, that conspicuous figure of American
life, Theodore Roosevelt, at whose inauguration the Count
assisted.

The author is still old-fashioned enough to consider Boston

* The Inner Life of the United States. By Monsignor Count Vay de Vaya and Luskod.
New York : E. P. Dutton.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 689

the intellectual capital of the country ; and the New England
woman the most attractive feminine type in America. He
protests against the widely disseminated idea that the Ameri-
can woman is flighty and frivolous, no real helpmate for her
husband, but rather an expensive doll. His chapters on art and
literature show an extensive acquaintance with our native authors
of the past, and with the achievements of American painters;
but he has a very poor opinion of the American connoisseur.
"To gauge American taste in art we must not only go to the
public galleries, but also to the private collections of the wealthy,
and to the numerous sales. At these latter one is surprised
and puzzled at the extraordinary medley of trashy daubs and
real masterpieces. Who can say which of these causes more
pleasure to the purchaser ? Or is he, perhaps, indifferent at
heart to both, and finds his sole pleasure in the consciousness of
possession ? "

The Monsignor's observations on religious conditions are
disappointingly superficial. He dwells on the respect shown
by all classes for the Catholic hierarchy, and on the recognition
which the Church receives as a powerful engine for social well-
being. On this subject, as on other topics, unlike some for-
eigners who have told the world all about America after a six
weeks' stay in the country, he shows himself independent of
prejudice and prepossessions. If his appreciations are not quite
correct — and this is the case in many instances — the errors arise
from hasty generalizations, in which special conditions in some
places, or among some classes, are taken as typical. In many
instances, too, he has not thoroughly digested his information.
For instance — to take one illustration from the realm of ideas,
and another from the world of fact— -he confounds the Monroe
Doctrine with Anti-imperialism, and he fancies that Tuxedo and
Lenox are watering places. Again he pays the Irish the unde-
served tribute of believing that they form sixty per cent of the
population in the most flourishing sections of the agricultural
districts. But whatever favor he may win by this statement in
the eyes of Irish sympathizers, will be lost when they read that
the low grog shops among the cities around New York, are the
haunts of " Anarchy, Fenianism, and all kinds of doctrines which
inculcate the destruction of the existing order." Frequently, too,
we meet with some misinterpretations of facts and mistaken
estimates of proportions. When, however, the Count confines
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 44

690 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

}

himself to registering his own personal observations he is ac-
curate. A charming trait which the book modestly reveals is
his deep interest in his poor fellow-countrymen, the Hungarians,
here, among whom, aristocrat and prelate though he is, he spent
a good deal of laborious time.

The appalling rapidity with which

THE ANTI-RELIGIOUS irreligion has, of late years, spread
PRESS IN FRANCE. in France has, according to the ad-
mission of both parties concerned,

been due to a section of the French press which openly pro-
fesses the destruction of religious belief to be its sole purpose.
This is clear. A debatable question, however, is whether the
secular press in general, is or is not, in France at least, ani-
mated by anti- religious principles, so that it, too, pursues a
policy of hostility to the Catholic Church. That this is the case
is the view supported in an able volume,* written by a Catho-
lic priest, who unfolds, in the course of his thesis a vast quan-
tity of information regarding French journalists and publicists,
which, apart from the issue of the question at stake, makes very
interesting reading. The French press, M. Delfour maintains,
is not free ; it is enslaved to the capitalists who dictate its
policy ; and the dictated policy, M. Delfour, for reasons which
are more or less convincing, declares to be hostility to the
Church, Catholics, he proceeds to show, allow themselves to
be intimidated by the anti-Catholic press, which insidiously
promotes the tendency to dethrone in the intellectual world
French Catholic ideas and to substitute for them German-Prot-
estant culture — witness the abdication of M. Loisy in favor of
M. Sibatier. He studies, successively, various types of enemies
— declared adversaries, like M. Ranc, the collaborateurs of Le
Matin and of Le Progres de Lyon, and Anatole France; mod-
erates, like P. Sabatier, M. M. P., of the Journal des Debats, and
M. Faguet.

Analyzing the secret of the force of the hostile press, he
finds it to lie chiefly in its uncompromising policy, its riches,
its superiority in the methods of attack; while, for the most
part, the Catholic press fears to be intransigeante. The French
press, M. Delfour argues, is a tributary of the foreign press;
and the press of the world on French religious affairs — such,

* La Presse Centre L'£glise. Par L. C. Delfour. Paris : Lethielleux.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 691

for instance, as the rupture of the Concordat and the Dreyfus
case — utters an identical note, which is always anti- Catholic.
Americans will hardly be convinced that this opinion is true.
Perhaps M. Delfour has n©t perceived the bearing on this view of
the fact that he mentions, namely, that, in its reproductions from
the foreign press, French journals carefully exclude everything
that manifests sympathy with French Catholicism. And one
fears that M. Delfour's conviction is much stronger than the
arguments he offers for it, when he declares that the press of
London, Vienna, Paris, and New York form a single orchestra
which follows faithfully the baton of the official director of the
German press, wielded in the Wilhelmstrasse. However, after
making all allowance for the exaggerations, this book draws a
convincing picture of the evil. The depression produced is not
mitigated when one finds that the author offers very little sug-
gestion as to how the enemy is to be met.

What is an Incroyant — a term which

PSYCHOLOGY OF THE we may translate by unbeliever ?
UNBELIEVER. Can we formulate a definition in

scholastic form, constituted by the

proximate genus, and the specific difference ? M. Moisant says,
"No." The psychology of the unbeliever offers no uniform
characteristic feature, chiefly because in the first place the ex-
ternal circumstances amid which he develops vary ; and, sec-
ondly, he is not a fatal result of heredity, of education, or of ex-
ample. Instead of formulating a definition of the class, M. Moi-
sant presents it and studies it in three different types — the nock-
er, the pasitivist, and the intellectual, represented respectively by
Voltaire, Comte, and Renouvier, the anti-clerical philosopher.
Although M. Moisant's purpose is to draw the psychology of the
man rather than to criticize his doctrines, yet, as the man is
t® be studied in his writings, M. Moisant's book* is a critique
of ideas, doctrines, and methods. It is a brief, keen analysis,
exhibiting the main characteristics of the three philosophers,
which does not hesitate to contradict conventional and traditional
estimates. For instance, of Voltaire M. Moissant says : " It
is agreed that Voltaire is the personification of wit and mock-
ery. But we know now that he represents discouragement and
spite. In appearance an esprit fort, he is, in reality, a feeble

9 Psychologic del' Incroyant. Par X. Moisant. Paris: Beauchesne et Cie.

692 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

soul." Comte he represents as the type of the constructive un-
believer who plays two parts: he would destroy Catholicism,
and then he would provide a substitute ; while Renouvier is a
blend of the Huguenot and the Platonician. To these exemplars
M. Moisant believes, in variable proportions, all unbelievers
may be reduced.

The latest volume of the series

SAXON CATHOLICISM. published by the Bibliotheque de

I ' Enseignment d 'Histoire J&cclesias-

tique, an enterprise inspired by the suggestions of Leo XIII.,
realizes the ideal inculcated by him to its initiators, Cardinals
Luca, Pitra, and Hergenroether. Dom Cabrol's study * on the
Saxon Church is " history in harmony with the criticism of to-
day/1 The writer seeks causes and forces beneath the surface
of events, and sums up the results of his analytical processes
in comprehensive generalizations. One of the most interesting
chapters is that devoted to a comparison and a contrast of the
Celtic and the Roman Monks, which were two very different
types that did not fuse together harmoniously. The Anglo-
Saxon Church, as Dom Cabrol pictures it, can show no great
literary glories like those of Africa, Caesarea, Jerusalem, or
Rome ; nor has it any system of philosophy or any great thinker
who impressed a movement upon Christian thought, as have the
Churches of Gaul or Spain. On the other hand, however, it
possessed a large number of men gifted with a talent for ini-
tiation and organization in practical life, who built up firm and
strong the edifice of religion. This Church, too, Dom Cabrol
shows, stands pre-eminent for its development of the monastic
system.

Celtic and Anglo-Saxon cloisters produced marvels of
sanctity, and won for England, for ages, the title of Island of
Saints. We do not mean to speak of the Celtic Church in
Great Britain, the fecundity and originality of which we have
spoken of, but to confine ourselves to the Saxon Church — what
works accomplished does it show ; what zeal for study ; what
progress in the arts of calligraphy, illumination, and archi-
tecture ; what influence exerted by its missionaries and mas-
ters ; what a spirit of initiative and proselytism ; what great

* L'Angleterre Chrttienne Avant les Normands. Par Dom Fernand Cabrol. Paris : Le-
coffre, Gabalda et Cie.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 693

and strong institutions ; what conquests over barbarism and
paganism !

The volume is enriched with a number of valuable notes
and a well composed bibliography.

Will the author of Helladian Vis-

GLIMPSES OF GREECE, tas* pardon us for referring to his

entertaining volume by a less res-

onent designation ? Doctor Don Daniel Quinn, who, after seme
years spent as professor of ancient Greek in America, resided
for a long period in Athens, where he was rector of the Lceon-
teion, contributed, during and after his residence there, many
papers on Grecian topics, ancient and modern, to several of
our magazines. A number of these papers are now printed in
a volume which, notwithstanding the baldness of its style, is
very entertaining reading. Familiar with classic Greece and
intimately acquainted with the modern country and its inhabi-
tants, Dr. Quinn brings forth from his storehouse, in popular
form, a bounteous supply of things new and old. The book
may be obtained from the author.

The Ingersoll Lecturer for 1908

BUDDHISM AND IMMOR- took for his subject the exposition

TALITY. Of the Buddhist idea of Nirvana, f

This lectureship was founded at

Harvard university by a Miss Ingersoll, who devised a sum of
money for the establishment of an annual lecture on the immor-
tality of man. Mr. Bigelow opens his subject with an analysis
of consciousness; and, following a prevalent school of psychol-
ogy, makes the ego consist in states of consciousness. The
result of asking us to conceive states without a subject to
which these states are attributable is to render his ideas very
confused and confusing; and we are not much helped to an
understanding of the Buddhist idea of Nirvana when he makes
it identical with "limitless conscience unified by limitless will" —
another instance of how we allow ourselves to be cheated by
abstract terms and abstractions. If, for the idea " conscious-

* Helladian Vistas. By Don Daniel Quinn, Ph.D. The Author,1 Yellow Springs, Ohio,
t Buddhism and Immortality. By William Sturgis Bigelow. New York and Boston :
Houghton Mifflin Company.

694 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

ness," which does not exist in general, but as an individual,
Mr. Bigelow were to substitute the concrete term " conscious
beings" he would find it necessary to recast his views.

This little volume * should be of
PATROLOGY great service to all students of

patrology. It is a work which is

intended to serve as an antidote to the uncritical notes Bishop
Coxe added to the American edition of the Ante-Nicene
Fathers. Some of the more flagrant errors into which partisan
feeling led the bishop are here corrected by Father Dolan.
He shows, for example, that there was truly a recognition of the
authority of the Roman See by the Corinthians in 96 A. D.
Father Dolan gives the traditional interpretation to the texts
in Ignatius, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, and others concerning
the Roman Supremacy. In regard to the Cyprianic testimony
it might be noted that a few texts here and there do not ex-
plain the attitude of the Carthaginian Bishop in regard to
Rome. As Duchesne says: " Cyprian expresses himself in terms
of great respect for Rome, but at the same time furnishes the
example of a decidedly clear manifestation of autonomy."
(Catholic University Bulletin, October, 1904.) Nevertheless, this
presentation of the controversy will do great good. It is to be
regretted that not unfrequently the writer permits himself to
refer to Bishop Coxe in a strain of acerbity which were better
absent in one who writes as a defender of her who "presides
over the congregation of charity."

A third edition of Roads to
ROADS TO ROME. Rome^ has just appeared. The

only change it exhibits from the

original is that the few anonymous papers which the first edi-
tion contained have been omitted here, and the editor has added
a second introduction commenting upon the criticisms which
the first volume provoked ; and offered an explanation of the
purpose which he had in view in planning the work. He has
gathered a number of criticisms from English Protestant publi-
cations which are significant from the contrary views they ex-

* The See of Peter and the Voice of Antiquity. By Rev. Thomas S. Dolan. St. Louis
B. Herder.

t Roads to Rome. By J. Godfrey Raupert. St. Louis : B. Herder.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 695

press and the contradictory character of the faults and merits
which they ascribe to it. For instance, one critic declares the
book to be " sad reading and controversy of the baser sort."
Another says that " some of the arguments are so paltry that
one hardly knows whether to congratulate the one Church on
losing such weaklings, or to condole with the other on gaining
them," On the other hand, a third critic says that " not the
least of the merits of the book is its good taste, that all sects
can read it without being hurt by coarseness or repelled by
ungenerosity " ; and a fourth writes that "there is much that
is very attractive and beautiful in these pages, that the honest
profession of a number of eager souls who have sought the
light, and, as they believe, found the light, is intensely touch-
ing, and that, if read with charity and allowance, these papers
may enable Englishmen to understand the modern English Ro-
manist, especially the Romanist by conversion, better; neither
to fear nor dislike, much less to despise him, but to understand
and appreciate more kindly what he is, and how he has come
to be what he is." This particular criticism, which may be
taken as representative of a widespread sentiment towards the
book, must have been extremely gratifying to the editor who
conceived the project of publishing such a work. For one of
his main motives was to combat the tendency of non- Catholics
of a certain temper who grossly misrepresent and misinterpret
the motives of any one who joins the Catholic Church.

In this interesting book* Father

THE CHURCH AND THE Guitart gives the history of the

WORKMAN. relations between Labor and the

Catholic Church. Beginning with

the teaching of Christ, and coming down to the Encyclical
Rerum Novarum of Leo XIII., he shows how important a
factor in the regeneration and present civilization of the
world has been the Christian conception of the dignity of
labor, not so much for the material results, as for the part it
plays in the development of the Christian l«fe. The contempt
of manual work and the utter disregard of the rights of the
workman which characterized Paganism, yielded to the influence

* La Iglesiay el Obrero : The Church and the Workman. By Ernesto Guitart, S.J. Bar-
celona, Spain : Gustavo Gili.

696 NEW BOOKS [Feb.,

of a religion that taught that slave and master were equal be-
fore God and that to labor was to pray.

The Rule of St. Benedict, in which the necessity and ad-
vantages of manual work are given a prominent place, and the
example of that saint and of his spiritual descendants in ages
of social degradation, effected an amount of good that can
scarcely be over-estimated.

The Church stands out through the ages as the steady
friend and protector of the workman, when he most needed
help — her support was given to the Guilds, and aided largely
in their formation and in extending their influence. These
powerful corporations, during the long period of their pros-
perity, not only guarded the material interests of their mem-
bers, but were centers of faith and religious practices.

In the chapter on slavery some facts are omitted which
it would be more correct to state. For instance, Las Casas
is extolled as a man in advance of his age in his strong
opposition to slavery. That he devoted his life and energies
to the hopeless task of shielding the Indian from the avarice
and cruelty of the conquerors is true; but, by a singular in-
consistency, while doing everything possible .to secure their
freedom, he advocated negro slavery and was instrumental in
the promotion of that nefarious trade. His opinions on this
subject were shared by most of his contemporaries, and we have
no desire to besmirch an unselfish and heroic character, but he
cannot justly be held up as a champion of freedom.

This work* is a clear exposition

LAS RELIGIOSAS. of the Canon Law that deals with

the life and government of female

religious communities. The whole matter is comprised under
five different heads: Confessors; The Account of Conscience;
The Cloister; Vows; Election of Superiors. This treatise is
written in the same direct, plain, methodical way as the au-
thor's book on Betrothal and Marriage. It is a book of great
practical value, not only to nuns themselves but also to their
spiritual guides.

* Las Rdigiosas, Comcntarios Candnico-Morales. Per el R. P. Juan B. Ferreres, SJ.
Tercera edici jn. Madrid : Administration de Razon y Fe.

1909.]

NEW BOOKS

697

This commentary on the present-

THE NEW MARRIAGE day marriage laws of the Church *

LAWS. weji deserves the warm welcome

it has received. It is clear, simple,

direct, cogent. The meaning and force of the new laws are
brought into relief by contrasting them with the laws that are
now mere history. Every intricate question is carefully ana-
lyzed, and each one of its component elements taken up in
turn, so that there is no room left for doubt as to the author's
opinion. The value of his judgment in debatable points is
evidenced by the fact that the Sacred Congregation of the
Council has repeatedly confirmed his conclusions by its de-
cisions. This edition is considerably larger than its prede-
cessor, containing not only the most recent pronouncements of
the Congregation that deals with these matters, but also prac-
tical applications of these laws to difficulties advanced by vari-
ous readers, The work is well- filled with references to stand-
ard authorities and is well-indexed. An alphabetical table of
contents, however, would be a welcome addition.

* Los Espousales y el Matrimonio. For el R. P. Juan B. Ferreres, S. J. Madrid : Ad-
ministration de Razon y Fe.

MORRISAN1A BRAHCH
610 East 169th St.

jforeion Ipeciobicals.

The Tablet (19 Dec.): Reports that "The Eight Hours Coal
Miners Bill " was read a third time, also a Bill pro-
hibiting children from entering public houses. "A

Penalty for Mass Going " in France gives a case where
five officers of the garrison of Laon attended Mass and
heard a sermon. No charge was brought against the
preacher, but the colonel was deprived of his command
and the other officers transferred to other regiments.-
Under the heading "The Declaration of the Sovereign"
a correspondence has appeared in The Times on the
oath taken by Roman Catholic Bishops in England
against heretics pro posse persequar et impugnabo where
the word persequar is translated I will persecute. Need-
less to say, these words have been omitted, by the
sanction of the Holy See, for the last ninety years, as

pointed out by the Archbishop. In connection with

the beatification of the " Venerable Joan of Arc," the
Sacred Congregation of Rites has promulgated the de-
cree Tuto. The ceremony of beatification is fixed for
next May.

(26 Dec.) : " Conditions in India," which are evidently
serious, received attention when Lord Morley sketched
the plan of his proposed reforms, which did not include

the blowing of disturbers from the mouths of guns.

Mr. Lloyd George, in his Liverpool speech, pointed oat
the advantages of " Free-Trade." Providence, he said,
" intended " it. He drew a picture of the fate of the
Christmas plum-pudding if Tariff Reform carried the

day. The death is reported of the " Mother- General

of the Sisters of Nazareth," Margaret Mary Owen, a
Mother in Israel. Attention is drawn by a corre-
spondent to " A New Departure." It consists in the
introduction of the Paulist system of a Question Box at
the entrance to the Church on Sunday evenings. An-
other champion of "The Maid of Orleans" has ap-
peared in the person of Mr. Andrew Lang, who has en-
tered the lists against M. Anatole France and disposed
of his naturalistic explanations.

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 699

The Month (Dec.) : " What Sort of Neutrality ? " by the Rev.
S. F. Smith, is an analysis of the scheme presented by
the French deputies at the recent International Moral
Education Congress. It is nothing less, the writer says,
than a deliberate plan to use the State schools for the
purpose of rooting out all religious belief from the peo-
ple. "Dr. Gairdner on Lollardy," by Father Thurs-

ton, is an appreciative article on the work of the octo-
genarian historian, who, in dealing with the suppression
of the English monasteries, substantially endorses Abbot
Gasquet's conclusions, which had been so violently as-
sailed. Another noteworthy article is the concluding

portion of the Rev. C. C. Martindale's account of "The
Religion of Mithra," which tends to show that some of
these old religions may be a source of new dangers in

our own day. " Social Work After Leaving School"

asks the question, in view of the growth of Socialistic
ideas, What are our Catholic laity doing? If England
is to be won to the faith, the people must see Christ
moving among the multitude, in the person not only of
His priests, but of Catholic men and women whose
watchword is service.

The Expository Times (Jan.): "The Bearing of Criticism Upon
the Gospel History," by Professor Sanday, is an ac-
count of the controversy raging around the Fourth
Gospel. Allowance must be made, the writer thinks,
for the " personal equation/' as many of the critics on
the negative side take hold of the Gospel by the wrong
end, especially when they charge that the author of it
was utterly indifferent to historical reality, and, more-
over, was not an eye-witness to the facts of which he
wrote. "The Hour of the Crucifixion" tries to recon-
cile the difference in the time as stated by St. Mark
and St. John. The former is accepted as being correct.

The Hibbert Journal (Jan.): "Some Recent Investigations by
the Society for Psychical Research," by the Right Hon.
Gerald W. Balfour, deals more particularly with the
subject of automatic writing and the phenomena now

known as "cross-correspondence." Following on the

same line is an article by John W. Graham, entitled:
" Messages From the Dead and Their Significance." It

7oo FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Feb.,

refers to the work of Frederic Myers, who, although
dead, claims that he is much more alive than when here
on earth, and demonstrates this by a stream of messages
from the other world. " Psychotherapeutics and Re-
ligion," by Dr. Marshall, of New York, analyzes the
mental and psychic forces back of Christian Science
and the Emmanuel Movement in Boston. A conclusion
arrived at is that in a certain class of diseases collabor-
ation between the physician and the religious leader may

be of great value. The Rev. J. W. Barton, on " Church

Missions as Affected by Liberal Theology," claims that
what is needed in the Foreign Field is a more rational
and intelligent method of imparting Christian doctrine

to the heathen. Professor James, in "The Doctrine

of the Earth- Soul and of Beings Intermediate between
God and Man," exposes the philosophy of Fechner,
and at the same time the thinness of American Tran-
scendentalism. Other articles are by Miss Vida Scud-

der, on " The Social Conscience of the Future." By the

Right Rev. E. Mercer, "Is the Old Testament a Suit-
able Basis for Moral Instruction ? " By Lewis Farnell,

on "The Cult of Ancestors and Heioes."

The International (Dec.) : In " Evolution of the Principles of
Punishment," Dr. Broda advocates prevention as being
better than cure. Impulsive crime he claims is largely
due to drink and to the lack of the refinements of edu-
cation. "The Prohibition of Absinthe in Switzerland"

tells how the long warfare against the manufacture of
the "green peril" has been brought to a successful con-
clusion. The new law will come into force July, 1910.

Lajpat Raj, in "The Indian Problem," gives an account
of the political impasse in India, brought about largely
by the policy of Imperial aggressiveness. Self-govern-
ment is the cry. There is hardly a strata of Indian so-
ciety that is not effected by it. " Unemployment "

shows that neither Free-Trade in England nor protection
in the United States means "work for all." There is
but one economic remedy for it, and that is to organize
industry on a co-operative basis.

The International Journal of Ethics (Jan.) : Professor F. Thilly
reviews " Fiiedrich Paulsen's Ethical Work and Influ-

i9°9-] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 701

ence." Paulsen's system of ethics was in direct opposi-
tion to that of Kant, for while the latter defined acts as
good or bad in themselves, Paulsen held that acts are

right or wrong according to the effect produced. J.

S. Mackenzie writes of the late Dr. Edward Caird.

" Self- Esteem and the Love of Recognition as Sources

of Conduct" is dealt with by H. H. Schroeder. The

article on "The Morals of an Immoralist — Friedrich

Nietzsche" is continued. Other articles are: "The

Will to Make-Believe," by Wilbur M. Urban. " Crime

and Social Responsibility," by Carl Heath.

The Irish Ecclesiastical Record (Dec.) : " Socialism ; its Develop-
ment and Program," by J. F. Hogan, D.D., is a strong
attack upon the principles of scientific Socialism as being
utterly opposed to the tenets of Christianity. The right
to property is a right that comes from nature and not
from law, as Socialists would have us believe. He warns
Catholics against adopting the name in their efforts to

redress social grievances. "The Betting Evil," by

Rev. J. Kelleher, points out how deeply seated in human
nature the evil is. He shows how the purchaser of a
lottery ticket is indeed far from getting the value of his
money. A picture is given of a race meeting, with the
prosperous book-makers on the one hand, certain of suc-
cess; and on the other, the dupes, backing their fancy,

certain in the long run to lose. " Historical Notes on

the 'Adeste Fideles'" goes to prove that there is no
trace of the hymn prior to the year 1745. The oldest

existing manuscript can be traced to Ireland. "The

Secularization Policy in the German Empire," by Rev.
J. MacCaffrey, traces the overthrow of the Catholic
strength in Germany to the action of Napoleon after the
treaty of Luneville, in 1801, when the ecclesiastical
estates were cut up and divided among the lay princes
in order to further his own political ambitions.

Le Correspondant (ioDec.): "Young Turkey and the Balkans,"
sketches the events leading to the Young Turk Move-
ment. Commenting on one of the questions brought

up, at the First International Educational Congress held
in London, G. Fonsegrive, in "The Modern State and
Neutral Schools," asks what are the capabilities of France

702 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Feb.,

to give moral instruction in the public schools? He
answers that she has none, for according to her policy

all opinions should be recognized and tolerated. H.

Bremond introduces us, in his article " Poets of To-day ,"
to a galaxy of French poets. " The Greatness of Pub-
licity/1 by Jules Arran, draws attention to the enormous
strides made in the business of advertising.
(25 Dec.) : Apropos of Bulgaria's reawakening, M. Lamy
gives a resume of the reign of " Prince Alexander of
Battenberg." His reign may be divided into three per-
iods, and its nature learned from the characteristic note
of each period. In the first he was unsuccessful ; in the
second he was timorous ; while in the third he made
himself honored and respected. Abbe Klein con-
tinues his articles on " The America of To-morrow."
The present one deals with the progress of the North-
west, its railroads and cities, and includes an account of

a trip to Alaska. "The Education of Blind Deaf

Mutes." Helen Keller aud Marie Heurtin are the sub-
jects of a paper by M. Gaston Paris. Marvels have been
accomplished by the first, but more marvelous still is
the story of the second, who, from being a wild, savage
child, grew to be a modest, intellectual woman under
the direction of the Sisters of Mercy. Both cases offer
arguments for the spirituality of the soul.

Etudes (5 Dec.): "The University of Paris" on the i;th of
March will be a century old. Paul Dudon draws our
attention to what the orators at the centenary celebra-
tions should say regarding the university's origin; the
motives Napoleon had in founding it ; the injustice done
to the Church by placing the faculty of theology in other

hands than her own, etc. It was the purpose of the

recent congress for " The Study of Religion at Oxford,"
F. Bouvier thinks, to show that Christianity is but a
natural evolution. He summarizes many of the more in-
teresting discussions, and notices at some length the pa-
per of Dr. Eisler, of Vienna, on the Eucharist, and the
extemporaneous but none the less convincing refutation

of it by Professor Dobschutz, of Strassburg. "M. J.

Turmel and M. E. Portalie again join issue. The former
maintains that his point of view was misunderstood.

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 703

He was writing history, not theology, in his History of
the Papacy. On the other hand, M. Portalie urges M.
Tunnel to come to the point and explain away the
identity of his views with those of Herzog-Dupin ; to
reconcile his views on the angels, original sin, etc., with
the teaching of the Church. Both of the participants
enter into a discussion of some of the less important
points of the controversy.^— Pierre Lhaude gives a
sketch of "Father Louis Colomba," the Spanish novel-
ist, who has lately been honored by the Spanish Academy.
(20 Dec.): "The Knowledge of Faith" — Jules Lebreton
criticizes those who hold that we have no personal and

direct intuition concerning a mystery of religion.

"Revolutionary Justice" is practically a summary of two
recent works, Le Tribunal Revolutionnaite, by M. G.
Lenotre, and that of Hector Fleischmann, La Guillotine

en 1793. Xavier Moisant writes on " St. Thomas

Aquinas as a Psychologist." Joseph Brucker reviews

the recent historical works on the Jesuits.

Annales de Philosophie Chretienne (Dec.) : " Christian Human-
ism," by Imbart de la Tour, shows that the intellectual
revolution of the sixteenth century modified not only
literary and moral theories, but had also a great effect
upon religion. But between the fundamental principle
of the Reformation and that of Catholic humanism, there

is an essential difference. The Quietist Elements in

" The Theodicy of Fenelon " are dealt with by M. J.
Riviere. Notwithstanding Fenelon's many contradictions^
he held to one essential principle, the absolute freedom
of God in regard to His work. He attacks unceasingly
the statement that God was obliged to create the most
perfect world; to admit that is to confound the world
with God and to recognize two infinitely perfects.

La Democratic Chretienne (Dec.) : " The Fundamental Ideas of
Social Reform." The writer, M. de Vogelsang, draws
attention to the Social Christianity of the Middle Ages,
from which we have sadly departed. To-day society is
largely individualistic, but Christian social ideas are in-
nate in man and are but sleeping, and wait for some one
to rouse them into action. "Physical and Moral Con-
ditions for the Welfare of the Family " is the report of

704 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Feb.,

a conference by Dr. L. Bierent. Alcoholism, Tubercu-
losis, and Care of Children are treated under the physi-
cal conditions, while Education and the Christian Ideal
form the subjects dealt with as necessary moral condi-
tions. "The Encyclical — Pascendi" is a review of the

effects produced by the Encyclical and the errors it

sought to expose. "The Spanish Letter" deals with

the Social Economic exhibit at the Spanish- French ex-
position in Saragossa. It included among other things
documents showing the growth of Catholic workingmen's

societies. It is with regret we read that with this issue

La Democratic Chretienne passes out of existence. The
editor, TAbbe P. Six, draws attention to La Chreniqtie
Sociale, which is already doing a valuable work in the
same field.

Revue\Pratique d* Apologetique (i Dec.): J. Geslin contributes an
essay on the two genealogies of our Lord given by Luke
and Matthew. It is claimed that the interpretations for-
merly advanced do not solve the difficulty, therefore a
new interpretation is attempted. The problems are solved
and the authority of the evangelists safeguarded, accord-
ing to M. Geslin, by the fact that Luke's genealogy in-
tends to give the genealogy of Him who is Son of Da-
vid, whereas Matthew intends merely to give a dynastic
genealogy of the Messias, the King of Juda. "Provi-
dence and Physical Evil " — an article that is very appro-
priate at this time on account of recent calamities. The
writer, H. Lesetre, maintains that it is blasphemous to
impute these physical evils to the Deity. That is the
Old Testament idea of God's influence on the world.
The Christian conception is that evil is part of this man-
ifestly finite world and is to be endured in preparation
for the kingdom of God.

(15 Dec.}: "The Beginnings of Christian Apologetics,"
by J. Lebreton, describes the different meanings borne
by the word "Apology" since Plato wrote the apology

of Socrates. "The Catholicism of Erasmus." His

entrance into religion was, the writer, G. Planke, claims,
an irreparable misfortune. Was he a Protestant ? Some
reply in the affirmative. The Lutherans claimed him as
one of themselves, and called him " our great Erasmus";

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 705

but men who had the interests of the Church at heart
recognized him as a son faithful and loyal, though per-
haps somewhat eccentric and caustic.— —Review of
L'Abbe Bertrim's classic work on Lourdes.

La Revue des Sciences Ecclesiastiques et La Science Catholique
(Dec.): In his "Knowledge of Christ," M. Abbe E. Rou-
pain discusses the errors of those who attribute to Christ
ignorance of His office as Messias and Redeemer, and
shows that, by the Beatific Vision and unity of personal-
ity, the testimony to an indivisible omniscient Person

still claims our assent. Canon Hurault exposes the

teaching of William of Champeaux about the Incarnation

and the Redemption. In his " Chronology of our

Lord," Xavier Levrier proves that Quirinus was really
in Judaea and in Syria at our Lord's birth, December 25,
of the year 745, and that this does not conflict with
Tertullian's statement that Sentius Saturninus was he who

took the census. The works of Father Billot, on Grace

and Free Will ; of Father de la Serviere, on The Theol-
ogy of Bellarmine ; and of Mgr. Batiffol on The Primi-
tive Church and Catholicism; are reviewed at length by
M. L'Abbe' A. Michel.

Stimmen aus Maria- Laack (i Jan.): M. Meschler, S.J., contrib-
utes an article on "Jeanne d'Arc," O. Zimmermann,

S.J,, explains, in a paper on "Personality," the variety
of meanings in which this term is used in modern liter-
ature— and warns against its indiscriminate use, since our
most fundamental doctrines of faith require a definite

conception of "personality." H. Muckermann, S.J.,

writes on " Palaeontological Documents and the Problem
of the Formation of Species," and shows that all the his-
torical material furnishes hardly anything certain about

the great problem of evolution. C. Blume, S.J., gives

a sketch of the history of Hymnody, and points out the

reasons for its growth and decay. J. Bessmer, S.J.,

in " Religion and Sub- Consciousness," criticizes Professor
W. James* teaching that sub-consciousness is the source
of religion. James considers in his theory only religious
feelings; and purposely neglects religious concepts and
ideas.

Revue du Monde Catholique (15 Dec.): "The Ancient Church

VOL. 1XXXVIII.— 45

706 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Feb.,

of Africa and the Modern Innovators," by Jean Hura-
bielle, Canon of Algiers, is a comparison between the
ancient African Church and the Catholic Church of to-
day, showing that in all essential points of doctrine the

former agreed perfectly with the latter. R. P. At, in

''The French Apologists in the Nineteenth Century,"
gives the biography of Maurice d'Hulst. This apologist
had a specially difficult task before him, namely, to give
a new presentation of the Church's teaching on ethical
principles so severely attacked by those wishing to sep-
arate morality from religion. "Save the Parish,'1 by

P. Camillas, is an account of the gradual encroachments
of the French Government upon the rights and property
of the French Church, beginning with the laws expelling
the Religious Orders engaged in teaching.

La Civilta Cattolica (5 Dec.): In " The Work of Pius X,," our
attention is called to the first announcement made by his
Holiness to the Universal Church that he intended to
have no other programme than this, viz., "To restore all
things in Christ." How he has gone about this is dis-
played in the course of an appreciative article which deals
with the Motu Propriot the decree Ne Tewere, and other

documents. "The History of Art in the Schools."

A new factor in education has been introduced into the
schools of Italy — the cultivation and study of art. It is
a singular thing, the writer remarks, that the cultivation
of the fine arts should be so neglected in a country

which abounds in works of art. " New Studies on the

Question of Pope Liberius"is a continued article. The
present chapters deal with the criticisms of G. Rasneur
in the Revue d* Histoire Ecclesiastique and P. Hurter in
the Zeitschrift fur Katkolische Theologie.

Espaila y America (i Dec.): Felipe Robles, extending a former
article on grammatical " Case," treats of " The Philosophy

of the Verb." P. M. Velez attacks the thesis that

"the cult of humility and of repentance, which the Chris-
tian faith still preserves, is immoral because harmful to
the moral progress of humamty," and expounds the true
Catholic doctrine as to these virtues. The fifth in-
stallment of "Godoy and his Century" is given by P.
Martinez. P. E. Negrete, in "The Esthetic Ideas of

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 707

St. Augustine," states the saint's classic doctrine of the

relation between the senses and the beautiful. Mr.

Taft's election, the production of a Spanish play at
Daly's Theater, and the publication of a fifty- five volume
history of the Philippine Islands, give P. M. Blanco Gar-
cia occasion for remarks on the reign of mammon and

the spread of civilization. Fray Meliton praises highly

the " Black and White " art exhibition. " Social An-

tagonisms," a romance, is continued. P. Miguel Coco

treats " Nine Doubtful Points " regarding the application
of the decree Ne Temere.

Razon y Fe (Dec.): In an article entitled "Free- Masonry in
Spain During the War of Independence," A. P. Goyena
traces much of the immorality and blasphemy of the
time to the lodges established under the influence of
Napoleon and his officers. L. Murillo reviews the va-
rious theories purporting to harmonize "The Mosaic and
the Laplacean Cosmoganies," and points out flaws in
each. "Is the Liberty of Thought Favorable to Prog-
ress ? " V. M. Mintegulaga asks and shows how it has

been in the sense approved by the Church. V. Agusti,

apropos of Dr. Meyenberg's work on The Practice of the
Pulpit, finds a remedy for the ineffectiveness of preach-
ing in a return to biblical study and biblical inspiration,
" The Annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina to the
Kingdom of Austro-Hungary," treated by E. Ugarte de
Ercilla, is a retrospect and a review of the Treaty of

Berlin. "Twelve Years of Radio-Activity," by Jaime

M. del Barrio. " Scientific and Philosophic Chron-
icle," by E. U. de Ercilla.

The readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, and par-
ticularly those who have known the magazine for some
years, will learn with regret of the death of the Rev-
erend William D. Hughes, priest of the Congregation
of St. Paul the Apostle. THE CATHOLIC WORLD, and
Catholic literature in general throughout the United
States, will always be greatly indebted to the zealous,
capable, and devoted services of Father William Hughes.

Father Hughes was born in New York City in
1856. He was educated at St. Gabriel's School in the
same city, and later at St. Charles' College, Ellicott
City, Md. He received his philosophical and theologi-
cal training at Seton Hall Seminary, South Orange,
N. J. He entered the Paulist Community, and was
ordained priest in 1882. Shortly afterwards, in 1885,
he became manager of THE CATHOLIC WORLD ; had
entire charge of the equipment of the Paulist printing
house in New York; and in all matters that pertained
to his position showed exceptional administrative abil-
ity and untiring diligence. His work and success are
the more noteworthy because, through all his years,
he suffered extreme physical pain, such as would have
rendered the ordinary man useless as a worker in any
active field.

But Father Hughes was more than an ordinary
man in his intellectual powers and his moral qualities.
All but encyclopaedic in his knowledge ; wide in his
sympathies; incredibly patient in his labors; hopeful
and always constructive in his outlook upon the pres-
ent and the future, sustained through peace and stress
by an intensely spiritual zeal, he served THE CATHO-
LIC WORLD even until the end. Forced by illness to
retire from its staff in 1892, he again gave his ser-
vices to the magazine in 1904, and continued them till
some few weeks before his death, January 10, 1909.

May his soul be at rest in the peace of God.

Current Events.

With reference to the question which

France. has overshadowed all others — that

of the action taken by Austria in

the Balkans — France has given her support to the demand
made by all the other Great Powers, with the exception of
Germany, that the annexation, involving as it does a breach of
the Treaty of Berlin, should be submitted to the discussion of
a Conference. She has also acquiesced in the proposal made by
Austria to Russia that a discussion in writing should precede
the actual holding of the Conference.

A man who wished the restoration of royal power thought
well to manifest his contempt of the present regime by attempt-
ing to pull the President's beard; another individual, who de-
clared himself a strong Republican, but who could not endure
the tyranny of the present government, fired shots through
the window of M. Clemenceau's room. There does not, how-
ever, appear to be any widespread opposition to the present
authorities. Elections have just taken place for the renewal of
that one-third of the Senate which retires every three years.
These elections have resulted in the strengthening of the parties
which support the present government. Extremists on both
sides failed in their appeal to the electors, the supporters of
the restoration of the monarchical form of government having
returned only five members. The anarchists and extreme So-
cialists were equally unsuccessful.

M. Clemenceau has now been in power for more than two
years, a period somewhat long for France. It seems probable
that he will survive the present Parliament, which comes to an
end in the spring of next year. But quite recently differences
have arisen in the Cabinet. The question of amnesty for riot-
ers in certain strikes which took place last year, and that of
the infliction of capital punishment, have caused divisions.
Whether they will lead to an actual split remains to be seen.

The question of Morocco has not attracted much attention
of late. Mulai Hafid has taken the place of his brother Abdul
Aziz. The latter is to receive a pension and to settle down
to the life of a private gentleman. He professes himself quite
satisfied with the change. Mulai Hafid has not been formally

7 io $ CURRENT EVENTS [Feb.,

recognized; but the prospect is good. The French troops are
being gradually withdrawn. There is a large bill, however, to

be paid.

Germany has had a very difficult
Germany. question to settle as to which side

was to be taken with reference to

the annexation of the Turkish Provinces. On the one hand,
her commercial interests in Turkey, especially of the Baghdad
Railway, rendered it desirable that she should retain the existing
Turkish authorities; on the other, the close alliance with Aus-
tria, her only absolutely reliable friend, and gratitude for the
services rendered at the Algeciras Conference, made it a duty
to support the latter power. After some hesitation, the deci-
sion to support Austria seems to have been taken, and the two
stand alone against the rest of the world.

Prince Billow has two internal questions en his hands of
supreme importance for the existence of his government. These
are under the consideration of two Committees appointed dur-
ing the last session of the Reichstag. The first of these is the
question of the limitation of the power of the Kaiser by making
ministers more directly responsible to Parliament ; the second
is the scheme for raising, by taxation, an additional annual sum
of one hundred and twenty-five millions. The former will test
to the utmost the cohesion of the present supporters of the
government, as these are made up, on the one hand, of believers
in the divine right of the crown; on the other hand, of sup-
porters of the inalienable right of the people to govern them-
selves. The second question touches the pockets of every class,
and, so far as it touches them, the proposed plans have met
with the keenest opposition on all sides. The natural opposi-
tion always felt to an increase of taxation is accentuated in the
present case by the fact that for a long time there has been a
great depression in trade and business, and that the whole sys-
tem of Imperial finance has broken down. The fact that the
" conquest of the air " has been so well begun by Count Zep-
pelin, while it has mitigated, has not removed the gloom.

The many questions raised by

The Near East. Austria's action are still far from

being settled, and it is still by no

means certain that war may not yet break out. Whether

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 711

a Conference will be held is still in doubt. The refusal of
Austria to discuss the one question which was worth discussing
— her own lawless action in annexing Bosnia and Herzegovina
— has been modified by the proposal made by her and accepted
by the Great Powers that a written discussion in advance of
the meeting of the Conference should deal with this point.
Some are of opinion that this will render a Conference un-
necessary; for, on all other questions, argreement has been
reached. All are agreed that compensation of some kind or
other is due to Turkey, and that this compensation should be
made by Bulgaria to Turkey and to the Oriental Railway Com-
pany, and by Austria to Turkey. Russia refrains from seeking
compensation, or, as perhaps it would be more accurate to say,
postpones that question to a more convenient season.

It is the just resentment felt by Servia and Montenegro at
the thwarting of their most dearly cherished plans for a greater
Servia that most of all imperils the prospects of peace. There
is very little doubt that, had these states been stronger, they
would have entered upon an armed conflict with Austria.
Their weakness has, however, counselled prudence; the other
Powers also have made urgent representations, and have in-
formed the representative of Servia that no support would be
granted her in the event of war. In every other way, how-
ever, they will act to the best of their ability in defence of
Servia's interests. We hope that she will not, as has so often
been the case, be betrayed.

While little if any regret has been manifested by Austria
for the blot which the recent proceedings have made upon her
honor, the Turkish boycott of her merchandize has touched her
in a more tender spot. This boycott has been very effectual,
and has caused Austria to make representations at Constantino-
ple in which she demanded that the government should suppress
the boycott, as if such a thing could have been done even in
the days when Abdul Hamid ruled despotically. The Austrian
Ambassador, it was said, would leave, and it was (we suppose
seriously) threatened that Austrian warships should accompany
her merchant vessels to enforce the transaction of business.
These threats were not carried out, for a compromise was
made, Turkey promising to do her best to get the carriers in
the employ of the Customs to handle Austrian goods. The
Ambassador, consequently, did not depart, and direct nego-

CURRENT EVENTS [Feb.,

tiations between Turkey and Austria were opened. The princi-
ple that compensation was due to Turkey for the loss of the
Provinces having been admitted, what that compensation was
to be has been under discussion, and this question has, we
believe, been settled.

As to Bulgaria, the same principle has been admitted, but
the negotiations as to the amount have not yet been brought
to a conclusion. The most insistent demands for compensa-
tion are made by Servia and Montenegro; but, so far, their
claims have not been recognized even in principle. It is still
rather more probable than not that war will break out, for
Austria has thought it necessary to collect 150,000 troops in
the annexed provinces, and many Servians believe that they
can force the hand of the Russian government. This they be-
lieve because the mass of the Russian people are strongly in
favor of war in defence of their fellow Slavs. The New Year
has, therefore, opened with dismal prospects.

With the insignificant exception of Monaco, where absolutism
and gambling still exist uncontrolled, giving to each other re-
ciprocal protection, the soil of Europe has at last been freed
from autocratic rule. Constantinople has been the scene of
the assembling of the Turkish Parliament in which deputies
from Mecca and Medina sat side by side with the representa-
tives of Jerusalem and Salonika. The house is an assemblage
of even a more motley array of races than is the Parliament
of Austria — Syrians and Arabians, Armenians and Druses,
Turks, Greeks, Bulgarians, Albanians, Kurds. The dignitaries of
the Moslem religion united with Christian bishops and Jewish
rabbis, The Moslems, however, far outnumber the Christians,
and we do not know that there is a single Catholic in the
whole assembly.

The Sultan himself opened the Parliament by a speech read
by his first Secretary, in which he declared that his resolution
to govern the country in conformity to the Law of the Consti-
tution was irrevocable, and called for the divine aid in the task.
He deeply regretted that the want of education on the part of
the people had rendered it impossible for him to have a Par-
liament as soon as he had wished ; but now, on account of the
progress which had been made, the desire of his heart could
be gratified. It is to be feared that very few really believed
that these were his real sentiments; but all can congratulate

1 909. ] CURRENT E VENTS 7 1 3

themselves upon the fact that they have become the deep con-
victions of the majority of the people in the Turkish Empire,
and that they have found an efficient means of expression in
the Committee of Union and Progress, to whose action the re-
cent change is due. This Committee represents, it is well to
remember, not so much the Army as the civil elements of the
Empire. It has been organizing the movement for nearly a
score of years, and when it became strong enough to take action
it was also strong enough to use the army as an instrument
to accomplish its purpose.

Its own time of trial is now approaching, and it will soon
be seen whether it is true to its own principles, Since the
decree was issued by the Sultan for the establishment of the
Constitution, the Committee rather than the Ministry has been
the real seat of power. But by all constitutional principles the
Parliament, where it exists, must be the supreme power. Will
the Committee be faithful to these principles and consent to
abdicate and to relinquish the powers which it has so wisely
used; or will it, with the so common infatuation which the
possession of power often brings with it, strive to retain
what no longer belongs to it ? Upon the choice it makes de-
pends, in the immediate future, the success of the experiment
just begun. Every one recognizes the immense difficulties which
stand in the way of success. These are so great that many
who hope for their being overcome are almost in despair. The
corruption springing from despotism has sunk so deep into
the very being of the State that hope may well give place to
despair. Yet there are not a few who think that the genuine
Turk has fine qualities and that all the evils of his rule have
been due to bad rulers. Moreover, the effectual way in which
Abdul Hamid was deprived of his power, and yet quite without
bloodshed, seems to show that there is among them a reserve
of political capacity which may justify hopes for the future.
At all events, the new Turkish Parliament enters upon its career
with the sympathy of all that is best in the world, a sympathy
which was expressed by the Parliaments of Austria, Hungary,
Italy, Servia, Rumania, and Great Britain, and by the Russian
Duma.

Negotiations have been carried on with Bulgaria and Aus-
tria-Hungary, with a view to coming to a peaceful settlement
of the questions at issue directly between the respective states,

* CURRENT EVENTS [Feb.,

and there is reason to expect that these negotiations will be
successful. War, if it breaks out, will not be laid at the door
of Turkey.

The Sultan was not satisfied with opening in person the
first session of the revived Parliament. He accorded to it an
honor which, so far as we know, has but one precedent — that
is to say, he invited all its members to a banquet at Yildiz
Kiosk. He himself presided, although his speech was read for
him by his secretary. In this speech frequent references are
made to God and even to His grace. The work of the mem-
bers is declared to be sacred; while for himself he has devoted
his person, with the help of the Almighty, to safeguarding the
provisions of the Constitution and to guaranteeing its sacred
rights. He declared that he would be the greatest enemy of
any one who should act in a contrary sense. Time will show
how deep-rooted in the Sultan's mind are these reassuring sen-
timents. The deputies, however, manifested their high appre-
ciation and were only too lavish in their demonstrations in
honor of the ex-autocrat. However, the more peaceful the
transition from despotism to law and order can be made the
better is it in itself and the more likely is the change to be
permanent.

The fearful calamity which has be-
Italy. fallen Italy may prove a blessing :

for it has moved the whole world

and every people to heartfelt sympathy with her. Even the
Sultan has contributed to the relief of the distressed. It may
even be the means of averting a war; for the action of Aus-
tria, in annexing Bosnia and Herzegovina, had so alienated the
minds of the people that demonstrations had taken place, show-
ing the hostility which had begun to be felt and indicating the
revival in strength of the Irredentist movement. The govern-
ment was placed in a very difficult position; for Italy is still
a member of the Triple Alliance, which includes Austria and
Germany; and so, although the minds of the people had largely
turned against Austria — so much so that it was being commonly
said that Italy's friends were not her allies and her allies were
not her friends — the government was not free to act in the way
in which it doubtless would have wished. The sympathy man-
ifested by the Emperor, Francis Joseph, and many of his peo-

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 715

pie for Italy in her misfortune has given another turn to what
seemed the probable course of events, and may prevent the dis-
solution of the Triple Alliance.

Those who have entertained ap-
The Far East. prehensions as to the course of

events in the Far East will have

their fears removed by the formal conclusion of an understand-
ing between this country and Japan. The treaties of Japan
with Great Britain, with Russia, and with France had left no
door open for complications, except with Germany and with
the United States, and of the two, it was with this country
that there was the greater reason to expect trouble; for Ger-
many is very unlikely to take action by herself. The under-
standing is calculated to remove all anxiety, for it declares that
it is the policy of the two governments to encourage the free
and peaceful continuance of their commerce in the Pacific
Ocean, to maintain the existing status quo to defend the prin-
ciple of equal opportunity of all nations in China, mutually to
respect the actual possessions of each other, and to support the
integrity and independence of China and the open door fcr the
commerce of all nations alike. In the event of the status quo
being threatened, the two governments propose to consult each
other as to what steps should be taken to preserve it from dis-
turbance.

One of the most striking features

Movements for Self -Government, of current events is the demand,

more or less powerful, of so many

Oriental peoples for a share in the government. Russia, Tur-
key, Persia, Egypt, India, and to a certain extent China, are
more or less agitated by this demand. Although holding large
tracts of Europe, the Russian must be considered rather an
Oriental than an Occidental form of government, and every
one, of course, is familiar with the efforts made of late to se-
cure the reign of law and order and deliverance from arbitrary
rule. These efforts have not, indeed, been crowned with that
full measure of success that could be wished for. They have
not, however, by any means resulted in complete failure. The
Third Duma is still not only in existence, but it discusses the
most important measures, and Ministers of State lay before it
for public discussion their plans and projects.

CURRENT EVENTS [Feb.

The Budget and Foreign Policy have to undergo its criticism.
Turkey, as we have seen, has just entered upon a constitutional
career. For Persia the prospects are darker, and it is not easy
to learn how far the people are in earnest in their demand for
a Parliament. One of the strangest of recent events is the fact
that Russia, of all countries in the world, acting — even a more
strange conjunction — with England, is enforcing upon the Shah,
who perjures himself every alternate week, the duty of keep-
ing his plighted word and of calling the Parliament which he
has so often promised. But the outcome is still doubtful.
A party in Egypt is loud in its demand that Egyptians should
have an effective voice in the government of themselves, and is
not satisfied with government, however good it may be, by
foreigners. At present there is a legislative Council, but it has
very little power. Those who have this desire will undoubted-
ly obtain what they wish, if they show themselves in earnest,
and that they have some degree of capacity for self-govern-
ment. For this is what has taken place in India. Recent
events there have been followed by the grant to its people of
a much enlarged degree of power in the government of the
country; not with a view, as Lord Morley insisted, of estab-
lishing parliamentary government for India as a whole, but for
giving to the various localities control of their own affairs.
This has been effected by giving to the unofficial element in
the Provincial Legislative Councils, of which there are already
many, and the number of which is to be largely increased, the
controlling majority. India is, consequently, placed in the pos-
session of local self government. Many in India profess them-
selves satisfied with the reforms which have been made, others
look upon them merely as steps to the attainment of even more.

The list would not be complete if China were left out.
The steps which have been taken for the establishment of a
Constitution have been referred to in a former number. What
they will lead to the readers of current events ten years hence
— for that is the time fixed for the introduction of constitu-
tional government — will be able to say. The abrupt dismissal
of one of the most prominent reformers because of an affec-
tion of his feet, is hardly a step in the right direction.

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION

WE wish to call special attention to the article published in this number of
THE CATHOLIC WORLD on the sermons of Father John Tauler. The
announcement contained in the article of the publication of these sermons in
English is of exceptional interest and importance to all English-speaking
Catholic peoples. We might add to non-Catholicsalso, for the work will be of
great value even as an addition to English literature. Considering the difficul-
ties of Tauler's original German, the work of translation has been laborious
and minute ; but it presents to us in our own familiar tongue one of the greatest
writers on spiritual subjects of our Church. It must not be supposed that
these are " cut and dried" discourses. As will be seen from a reading of the
article, they are forceful, direct, inspiring, imaginative exhortations, and
stirring appeals that will rouse and help the soul to-day as they helped the
thousands who heard the same words directly from the preacher's lips.
They deal with our common, everyday tasks; help us in our ordinary duties;
and yet teach us how to make these very things steps on the ladder of our
spiritual growth and perfection. Tauler's sermons will be of immense ser-
vice to the beginner, to him whom we might call the ordinary Christian, and
of immense service also to him who would aspire to the highest and the most
perfect. Such is Tauler's power andfsuch his sympathy that he can stretch his
hand down to the simple and the weak, to lead them upward and onwards;
such his learning and his spirituality, that through him the "perfect"
may be made even " more perfect" still.

The principal aim of this department is to rouse Catholics to the study
and the love of good Catholic literature. With emphasis we recommend to
every Catholic this work of Tauler's sermons in English which is about to be
published. The ability and the fitness of the translator, Father Walter
Elliott, need no recommendation from us. We would like to see every Catho-
lic home possess it as one of their "family" books. To priests it will be a
treasury of instruction and inspiration, and to all religious a help and a joy.
» » *

A notable article, says the London Tablet, to this month's Contemporary ,
is that by Mr. Horace Round upon "A New Anglican Argument." That
might seem at first sight as if Mr. Round had brought forward a new argu-
ment in defence of Anglicanism. But that is not at all the case. The argu-
ment is somebody else's, and Mr. Round comes forth not to propound, but
to destroy it. The argument was introduced to the public by the Rev. Dr.
Gee, at the recent Church Congress, as a buttress to the theory of Anglican
"Continuity." It is known to every one how, at the accession of Queen
Elizabeth, the Catholic Bishops of England stood out as one man against the
change of religion, and how the last Catholic Convocation solemnly affirmed
with its final breath the great Catholic dogmas of Papal Supremacy and
Transubstantiation and the binding nature of the vows of the monks and
clergy. As a result, out of fifteen diocesan bishops, fourteen were deprived
and the only recalcitrant amongst them was Kitchen, the contemptible
Vicar-of-Bray Bishop of Llandaff. The Anglican Church had to be built on
a new State-intruded hierarchy, and such a foundation is naturally felt to be

;i & . THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION [Feb.,

fatal to the plea of Anglican Continuity. It was in defence of this flaw that
Dr. Gee discovered and propounded the "new Anglican Argument." It
took more or less the shape of an historic parallel and a Tu quoque. Dr.
Gee maintained that all that Elizabeth had done and more had already been
done by William I. at the Norman Conquest. He asserted, not only that
William deprived all the English diocesan bishops save one, but that Lin-
gard admits that he did so. He holds that William's action was uncanonical
and tyrannous, and anything worse could not be said against that of Eliza-
beth. In a word, if William's action did not sever continuity at the Con-
quest, neither did Elizabeth's at the Reformation.

An unhappier attempt at an historical parallel could not easily be im-
agined. Those who are familiar with the facts of the Conquest will remem-
ber that the enterprise was approved in Papal Consistory, that William's
banners were blessed by the Pope, that he himself was crowned by Papal
Legates, and that the whole settlement of the Church in the new conditions
was carried out under Papal sanction, and under the "authority of our Moth-
er the Roman Church." To compare this with the revolt and separation
under Elizabeth is, of course, to take up a wildly indefensible position, and
to court being blown out of the field by any well-informed writer who might
choose to attack it. Mr. Round has a special aptitude for punishing rash-
ness of that kind, and he sets about his task with deadly earnestness, and
carries out the process of pulverizing with terrible completeness.

Beginning with the statement that, according to Lingard, William the
Conqueror deprived all the English diocesan bishops save one, he shows, in
the first place, that Lingard says nothing of the kind. Secondly, he shows
that the alleged deprivation is utterly untrue, and quotes the case of quite a
number of bishops who retained their sees after the Conquest. Thirdly, he
shows that such deprivations as were made, were made not by William, but
by the Papal Legates and the church authorities, and that they were neither
tyrannous nor uncanonical. Finally, he shows that at the Conquest, doctri-
nal differences were never for a moment in question, and, consequently, that
it is ludicrous to establish a parallel between the Norman Settlement and the
Elizabethan Reformation. It will thus be seen that Mr. Round, as usual,
does his work with great thoroughness, and that not very much is left of the
"New Anglican Argument."

* * *

We were surprised, to say the least, to meet with the following sentence
in a review of Mr. G. K. Chesterton's ^latest work, Orthodoxy, contributed
by H. W. Garrod, of Oxford, to the January Hibbert Journal'. "At the same
time, I cannot help asking whether it is worth the while of a man of gifts so
brilliant and telling as Mr. Chesterton's to write a whole book just in order
to pull Mr. G. S. Street's leg? "

» * •

An article contributed by Wilfrid Ward to the Dublin Review is a most
important appreciation of the arrival of a new prophet— Gilbert K. Chester-
ton. With regard to Mr. Chesterton's latest work entitled, Orthodoxy, Wil-
frid Ward writes : " If any one opens it with a predisposition to take what
I may call the frivolous view of Mr. Chesterton he will find in skimming its
pages plenty to confirm such a view. ."

1909.] THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION 719

To the adverse critics of Orthodoxy Mr. Ward says: "Starting with
their assumption — all the brilliant epigrams, with which Orthodoxy is packed
from start to finish, seem to be extraordinary feats of intellectual agility —
the renewal, under nineteenth-century conditions, of the dialectical tourn-
aments of the thirteenth : and in those tournaments it rejoiced a skilled dis-
putant to have to defend what was neither probable nor true, as it gave all
the more scope for his ingenuity. To me — this aspect of ingenious paradox
appears simply accessory. I regard it partly as a concession, which has
become habitual on the part of the writer, to the taste of an age which loves
to be amused and hates being bored. It is the administration of intellectual
stimulants, or the application to a lethargic and tired and rather morbid
world of a tremendous shower bath, in order to brace it and renew its nor-
mal activities. The net result, however, of Mr. Chesterton's awakening
treatment is not mere stimulating paradox, but, rather, a douche of start-
ling common sense."

The effect that Mr. Chesterton's work had ©n Mr. Ward's mind "was not
to diminish his sense of the difficulties of which, perhaps, Mr. Chesterton in
his sense of victory makes too light,but to bring into relief the shallowness of
thinkers who have allowed new difficulties in detail to lead to doubts ot Chris-
tianity itself."

" But it does seem to me to be an attempt in English literature of the hour
at doing what a sympathetic spectator from another planet would regard to
be one great work of the Church at present — namely, bringing to bear all
available guns against a perverse philosophy of life, which is being preached
in the name ef progress. Such a spectator would, perhaps, say that the
Church does not just now show in its action a close or understanding sympathy
with modern thought, but rather regards it as, on the whole, taking a wrong
direction ; that the Church, at this moment, is urging action on the ancient
fixed ideal and creed rather than speculatitn on nevel points of view. . . .
Many of her representative thinkers, are indeed, keenly alive to the special
problems which such advance presents. But, in her official action, the Church
emphasizes rather the defects and dangers of modern thought. . . . Our
faculties are in danger of losing what they have already grasped and pos-
sessed— truth which is substantial and divine — while they pursue shadows —
or substances ever retreating among the shadows. To concentrate our main
attention on this fact is a one-sided insistence for the age on old aspects of
truth which are being forgotten, not a denial of new aspects to be recog-
nized in due time and in due proportion. Such an attitude is undoubtedly
reinforced by some of Mr. Chesterton's pages. And it is likely to be as un-
popular in many quarters as the Church is ever unpopular with the world."
« * *

Some Roads to Rome, in America, is the title of a new publication by
Miss Georgina Pell Curtis. The volume is now on the press and will be ready
for the market early in the spring. B. Herder, of St. Louis, is the publisher.

Miss Curtis is also about to begin the compilatien of an American Cath-
olic " Who's Who ", and would be grateful to those persons sending biograph-
ical sketches if they would address such communications to 2919 North Ash-
land Avenue, Chicago, 111. These articles must be short and comprehensive.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

P. J. KENEDY & SONS, New York :

Jesus all Good. By Rev. A. Gallerani, S J. Pp. 254. Price 50 cents. The Meaning of
the Mass. By Rev. M. J. Griffith, D.D., Pp. 248. Price $i.

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York :

Bartholomew de las Casas. By Francis Augustus MacNutt. Pp. 450. Price $3.50 net.

JOSEPH F. WAGNER, New York :

Henry Charles Leas Historical Writings. By Paul Maria Baumgarten. Pp. 200. Price

90 cents.
FUNK & WAGNALL'S COMPANY, New York :

Profit and Loss in Man. By Alphonso A. Hopkins, Ph.D. Pp. 376. Price $1.20.
LOUGHLIN BROTHERS, New York :

Silver Jubilee Celebration. Mission of Our Lady of \the Rosary for the Protection of Irish
Immigrant Girls, New York. 1883-1908. Pp. 46.

E. P. BUTTON & Co., New York:

The Mystical Element of Religion. 2 vols. By Baron Fr. Von Hugel.
R. G. BADGER, THE GORHAM PRESS, Boston, Mass.:

Excalibur. An Arthurian Drama. By Ralph Adams Cram. Pp. 160.
LITTLE, BROWN & Co., Boston, Mass.:

The Misnoner. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. Illustrated. Pp. 312. Price $1.50.
OLIVER DITSON COMPANY, Boston, Mass.:

Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. By G. E. Whiting. Pp. 40. Price 50 cents.
Chimes of Childhood. Pp. 48. Price $z.

GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE, Washington, D. C. :

Report of the Commissioner of Education for the Year Ended June 30, 1907. Vol. II. Pp.

IV.-2I4.

JOHN MURPHY COMPANY, Baltimore, Md. :

Discourses and Sermons for Every Sunday and the Principle Festivals of the Year, By
James Cardinal Gibbons. Pp. x.-53i.

LOWENTHAL, WOLF & Co., Baltimore, Md. :

A Man Without a Principle1? By Retsel Terreve. Pp. 345.
R. & T. WASHBOURNE, LTD., London, England:

The Via Vita of St. Benedict. By Dom Bernard Hayes. Pp. xiii.-352.
P. LETHIELLEUX, Paris, France:

Exposition de la Morale Catholique. Le Vice et le Peche. Par E. Janvier. Pp. 433.
Price 4-ffs. Ma Vocation Sociale ; Souvenirs de la Fondation de /' (Euvre des Cercles Catho-
liques d'Ouvriers. Par le Comte Albeit de Mun. Pp. 320. Price 4/rs.

G. BEAUCHESNE, Paris, France :

La Foi Catholique. Par H. Lesetre. Pp. X.-497. Price 3 frs. 50. Les Modernistes. Par

le P. Maumus. Pp. xv.-269.

AUSTRALIAN CATHOLIC TRUTH SOCIETY, Melbourne, Aus. :

The Catholic Church and Medical Science. Daily Communion. The Blessed Eucharist.
Pamphlets. Price i penny each.

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD,

VOL. LXXXVIII. MARCH, 1909. No. 528.

FOUR CELEBRITIES-BROTHERS BY MARRIAGE.

BY WILFRID WILBERFORCE.

IV.— SAMUEL WILBERFORCE.

N writing this fourth article I am confronted with
a difficulty which was happily absent in the case
of the other three. Hitherto I have dealt with
the lives of those who had the happiness to
be called into the true Church, but it is diffi-
cult, for obvious reasons, to write, so as to interest Catholic
readers, of one who spent his life outside the Fold. As, how-
ever, this sketch will deal only with the early part of Samuel
Wilberforce's career, I am saved from the necessity of re-
ferring to those controversies which stirred him to anger and
to hatred of that strange figment which, though it had no ex-
istence outside his own imagination, he honestly believed to
be the Roman Catholic Church.

Samuel Wilberforce, the third son of William Wilberforce,
M.P., and of Barbara Spooner, was born at Clapham Common, on
September 7, 1805. His father's house was a well-known cen-
ter of the Evangelical party in those days, and was within
easy reach of Mr. Thornton's and Zachary Macaulay's homes.
" Holy Clapham " was the nick-name given to the neighbor-
hood by those who derided the piety of the Evangelical school;

IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK.
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 46

722 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar.,

but there was a real truth in it, and the great number ©f
Catholic churches and convents which now exert their in-
fluence upon Clapham, may well be God's blessing bestowed
upon the place in return for the sincerity and zeal which
characterized the men of that day.

William Wilberforce was a busy and active member of Parlia-
ment, but the pressure of his public duties did not prevent
him from giving the closest attention to his children's welfare,
and many hundreds of letters are still extant written by him
to his children, amid the distractions of a Parliamentary career.
These letters are full of love and tenderness, and full also of
the highest spiritual advice and Christian morality. Mr. Wil-
berforce had a profound mistrust of the influence of public
schools, and all his sons were sent to private tutors. Thomas
Mozley had some interesting theories, to which I will refer
presently, as to the results of this plan upon the brothers,
but this was of course in later years when they were at Ox-
ford.

But, quite apart from any schools or tutors, the atmosphere
of William Wilberforce's house was such as to instill religious
belief and practice into the minds and conduct of his children.
Every morning and evening he would hold a kind of service
— something more than ordinary family prayers — and he would
introduce an eloquent extempore sermon, which, coming from
lips so revered, could not fail to exert a powerful influence
upon his sons. A story is told in connection with these exer-
cises. It was almost impossible that the servants should be as
pious as their master, and an old butler at one time took to
absenting himself from prayers, frequently at first, then alto-
gether. William Wilberforce gently inquired why he could
not join in family worship. The butler threw himself into an
attitude and said that in the Bible he had found written the
words : " To your tents, O Israel ! " It is related that for
once in his life his master was taken aback. Mozley tells us
that Henry Wilberforce thought that the reply had something
to do with tent beds.

So many outsiders wished to be present at these meetings
that Mr. Wilberforce was obliged to limit the number to twenty.
Even so there were these who attacked Wilberforce, I suppose
on the ground that he was usurping the functions of the
clergy. At last a chapel was built, but about that time Wil-

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 723

berforce left Highwood, near Mill Hill, and henceforward can
scarcely be said to have had a settled home.

We are indebted to Canon Ashwell for the memory of a
humorous incident which occurred at the house of one of the
private tutors to which Samuel Wilberforce was sent. He was
at that time about twelve years of age, and his tutor, the
Rev. E. G. Marsh, with his family and a few other pupils,
occupied a furnished cottage at Horspath, near Oxford. Samuel
had decided likes and dislikes, and he conceived a strong re-
pugnance for his tutor. One day, after a violent quarrel, he
demanded to be sent home. The tutor hesitated, whereupon
Samuel rushed into the road — the highroad over which some
twenty coaches a day were accustomed to run between London
and Oxford — and threw himself flat on the ground. He an-
nounced his intention of remaining where he was unless he
were sent home. Mr. Marsh let him be for a few hours, but
at last gave in, and his pupil was sent back to his parents.
One room in Mr. Marsh's cottage will probably be known for
all times, as it is the scene of the family group of the New-
mans— the mother, the two sons, and the daughters — drawn by
the celebrated Miss Maria Giberne, afterwards a convert and a
nun of the Visitation Order. She was a great friend of New-
man, and indeed of all the Tractarians ; her tall figure and
classical features lent her something of a royal aspect, which
earned for her the genial sobriquet of the " Queen of Trac-
taria." She became of the greatest assistance to Newman at
the time of the Achilli trial, but " that is another story."

In 1819, when he was about sixteen years old, Samuel was
under the care of a tutor named George Hodson, afterwards
Canon of Lichfield and Archdeacon oi Stafford. A letter writ-
ten to him at this period by his father is interesting, inasmuch
as it expresses the principal objection which the writer had to
public schools. One oi Samuel's companions had been guilty
of a wrong act. It was of such a kind that, in William Wil-
berforce's judgment, Samuel ought to have reported it at once
to Mr. Hodson ; but this he had failed to do, and his father,
with the . utmost tenderness, but with equal sadness, expresses
his pain that he had not "told Mr. Hodson, at the first, the
wrong proceedings which you knew to be going forward. This
is," he continues, "one of the numerous (they are almost in-
numerable) class of cases in which worldly honor teaches one

724 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar.,

lesson and Christian morality another; and the very same
principle which, I suppose, led you not to mention to Mr.

H the misconduct of your schoolfellow, would prompt you,

when a man, to obey the laws of honor in fighting duels, or
in all the other instances in which the World goes one way
and the servants of Christ another. ... I know that this
is often one of the consequences of a youth's being at a great
School, especially if his parents are pious, that he has one set
of principles and ways of going on in all respects at school
and another at home. But it is chiefly for the very purpose
of providing against this double system, that pious parents do
not like to send their children to Public Schools."

A somewhat similar note is struck by Thomas Mozley in
his Reminiscences : " One result of a private education on the
Wilberforces," he writes, " was their truthfulness " ; and he adds
that a school large enough to create a social distance between
masters and boys " is liable to suffer the growth of conventional
forms of truth and conventional dispensations from absolute
truth." Very few, he thinks, came out of a public school in
those days, without learning the art of lying; and boys who
would have shrunk from the idea of lying to a schoolfellow
thought nothing of practising it on their natural enemy the
schoolmaster. Newman noticed with sorrow that among his
public school pupils, in those days, many would not invariably
tell the truth, and he used to warn them not to acquire too
great an ingenuity in inventing excuses. One of Mr. Hodson's
pupils was Albert Way, a son of the famous Mr. Lewis Way.
Another was Henry Hoare, afterwards celebrated for the part
he took in the revival of Convocation in the Church of
England. Samuel used to say that he owed everything to
having been in the same class with Hoare, who, at the end of
one of the terms, carried off the prize, and once also gave him
a severe thrashing. This made Samuel determined that he
would never again be beaten by Hoare in an examination, and
he there and then set to work and formed such a habit of
study and application, that he was never afterwards beaten.
As for the thrashing, that too took place but once,, for the
boys never quarreled again and remained friends in after life.
At Stanstead Park, in Sussex, lived Lewis Way and his
family. They were great friends of William Wilberforce, and
Samuel, while a pupil of Mr. Hodson, used constantly to spend

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 725

his Saturday afternoon and Sunday there. The Sargent family
were also frequent visitors at Stanstead. On one occasion Lewis
Way took his pupil to visit the Sargents at Graffham Rectory,
and here Samuel met his future wife.

The period that elapsed between his school and university
life was one which left a very deep, nay probably an indelible
impression upon his character and future life. His health was
delicate and the air of Barmouth was recommended. Here he
spent a summer with his father as his constant companion. A
notebook still exists in which the young man recorded his
father's conversations, his judgments of men, his views and
criticisms upon books, sermons, and events. So close a study
of such a man as William Wilberforce could not fail to effect
the mind of an affectionate son, more especially at the impres-
sionable age which Samuel had then reached. It is probably
true to say that his father's influence during those weeks at
Barmouth had its effect later on in preventing Samuel from
following his brothers into the school of thought which ulti-
mately led them into the Catholic Church.

Henry Wilberforce never wearied of declaring that Samuel
was in no sense a High Churchman. It was the custom to say
that he was, and some of his acts may have given color to it.
But, paradoxical as it sounds, these acts tended really to dis-
prove the assertion. Samuel viewed the Church of England as
comprehensive and capable of accepting nearly every view and
nearly every practice short of Popery. This inclusiveness im-
plied some things that were High Church, but it by no means
meant that the man who believed in it belonged to the High
Church party.* On the contrary, it was incompatible with
High Churchmanship as understood by Newman or Keble, and
that the future Bishop did by no means see, eye to eye, with
them is evident to any reader of his biography. Thus at the
close of 1837 he notes in his diary: "Henry's accounts of
Froude's Remains truly grieve me. They will, I fear, do ir-
reparable injury. He says : ' He seems to hate the Reformers.' "
And another entry describes the book as showing an " amaz-
ing want of Christianity, so far. They [the Remains} are Henry
Martyn ^christianized."

* He was orthodox on questions like Baptismal Regeneration (as is shown by the fact that
he was opposed to the Gorham Movement), and he voted against the Divorce Bill when that
iniquitous measure was before the House of Lords.

726 > FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar.,

In 1838, again, we find Newman declining his further con-
tributions to the British Critic. "To say frankly what I feel
— I am not confident enough in your general approval of the
body of opinions which Pusey and myself hold, to consider it
advisable that we should co-operate very closely. The land is
before us, and each in our own way may, through God's bless-
ing, be useful; but a difference of view, which, whether you
meant it or not, has shown itself to others in your sermons
before the University, may show itself in your writings also;
and, though I feel we ought to bear differences of opinion in
matters of detail, and work together in spite of them, it does
not seem to me possible at once to oppose and to co-operate;
and the less intentional your opposition to Pusey on a late oc-
casion, the more impracticable does co-operation appear."

Here at last was the rift in the lute which grew into the
vast cleavage between Newman and Samuel Wilberforce. Most
true does it seem, as Henry Wilberforce used to maintain,
that his brother was not a High Churchman, and that he never
lost the early Evangelical training which he had received from
his father.

These remarks, of course, are by way of anticipation, but
they seem to be called for, and now we may return to the fu-
ture Bishop's earlier career.

Samuel Wiberforce began his Oxford life in Michaelmas
Term, 1823, as a commoner of Oriel College. The Provost at
that time was Dr. Copleston. The tutors were Hawkins, after-
wards Provost, Endell, Tyler, and Jelf. Among the Fellows
were John Keble, John Henry Newman, Edward Bouverie Pu-
sey, and H. Jenkyns. The Froudes and Merivale were among
the undergraduates at the time. The Union Debating Society
was then in its infancy, and Samuel very soon became a mem-
ber. Almost immediately he made his mark, and it happened
by a mere chance, as it appears, that his second speech ob-
tained a notoriety most unusual in the case of undergraduate
utterances. Hook,* the nephew of the famous Theodore Hook,
editor of John Bull, happened to be on a visit to Oxford and
he visited the Union during a debate. The question was the
well-worn and now academic dispute between Charles I. and
his opponents. Samuel seems in his speech to have taken nei-

*It should be mentioned that in later years there was cordial friendship between S.
Wilberforce and Hook.

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 727

ther side very decidedly. But Hook, who hated the very name
of Wilberforce, sent off an account of the speech to his uncle.
It was published in John Bull, with comments to the effect that
the young Wilberforces might be expected to take part in any
revolution or treason.

The article of course was directed, not against Samuel but
against William Wilberforce. But the sons were so warmly at-
tached to their father that they probably regarded it as an hon-
or to share in any odium which his enemies might entertain
towards him. The confidence between father and sons was un-
limited. As Mozley tells us : " he was the joy of their life and
the light of their eyes. Visitors have described, as the most
beautiful sight they ever witnessed, the four young Wilber-
forces stretching out their necks, one in advance of the other,
to catch every word of the father's conversation, and note ev-
ery change in his most expressive countenance. On such terms
was he with them that a stranger might have thought their
love and respect admitted of some improvement by a slight ad-
mixture of fear." But surely, if the respect was there, we may
suppose that it was their perfect love which banished fear.

Samuel read steadily during his Oxford career, and closed
it by taking a First in Mathematics and a Second in Classics.
He became a candidate for a Balliol Fellowship in November,
1826, and in the opinion of the University his success was
highly probable; but the two vacancies were filled by the
election of Francis Newman and Moberly. The Master of Bal-
liol invited him to stand again, but before another vacancy oc-
curred his plans had undergone a momentous change. As far
back as 1821, when Samuel was still a boy, he had become at-
tached to Miss Emily Sargent, and the years which had since
elapsed had greatly strengthened the -attachment. His father
was now strongly in favor of the marriage, and the idea was
well received by the Sargent family, though they insisted on a
little delay. At last it was determined that it should take
place in the summer of 1828, and that Samuel should be or-
dained deacon at Christmas of the same year. On June 1 1,
1828, accordingly, Samuel Wilberforce and Emily Sargent were
married in ^Lavington Church, the ""officiating clergyman being
the celebrated Charles Simeon. The first few months of his
clerical career were passed as curate of Checkendon, near
Henley-on-Thames. Its comparative nearness to Oxford was a

728 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar.,

great advantage, especially as his brother Robert was still there,
as one of the tutors of Oriel. When he had been less than
two years at Checkendon, Samuel was offered the rectorship
of Brighstone, in the Isle of Wight. Hither he went in June,
1830. His principal parishioners were yeomen farmers who had
inherited their properties from father to son from time imme-
morial. One or two amusing experiences belong to this period.
At first some of the Brighstone people were disposed to resent
his youthful appearance. "Why, they've sent us a boy," was
a remark which a very short experience made the speaker
change for: "I thought he was a boy, but I see he's a man"

Samuel Wilberforce was fond of relating a conversation be-
tween a farmer and himself that occurred when he was visiting
the parish immediately after his appointment. " Be you going
to keep the meadow (a small one on the glebe) in your own
hands?" "Why?" asked the new rector. "Well, parson,"
replied the farmer, " you see, when the late 'rector had it he
used to cut his grass when I cut mine, and his being only a
little piece, in course he gets his up while most of mine be lying
about; and then sure enough the very next Sunday he claps
on the prayer for rain — so, if you don't mind, I'd like to rent
that meadow from you."

Another story illustrates the necessity of defining one's
words, especially when speaking to those whose education has
led them to attach but one meaning to them. Brighstone had
at that time a bad reputation for wrecking and smuggling, and
the rector felt it necessary to preach against the latter habit.
His sermon was founded upon the text: "Render unto all
their dues: custom to whom custom, etc." He was anxious to
know what effect the sermon had had, and he got a friend
to go about the parish to make inquiries among the parishioners.
This friend found that the rector's exhortation had been well
received, the only objection being that he did not practise what
he preached ! " How so ? " asked Wilberforce's friend. " What
has the rector done wrong ? " " Why, Sir," was the amazing
reply, "you see he told us we ought to give custom to whom
custom was due, and yet he doesn't deal in the village, but
buys his things at Newport."

Wilberforce's sojourn in the Isle of Wight did not interrupt
the friendships he had formed at Oxford, and he had visits from
Sir George Prevost, Frederick Oakeley, Richard Hurrell Froude,

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 729

George Dudley Ryder, Henry Edward Manning, and others.
On November 7, 1833, the last named became, through his
marriage with Caroline Sargent, a relation as well as a friend.
In this year Samuel lost his venerable father, and Mr. Sargent
also died at the early age of 52. Thus husband and wife were
in sorrow together. The young rector wrote a charming sketch
of his father-in-law which is published as an introduction to
Mr. Sargent's own biography of Henry Martyn, the celebrated
Protestant missionary, and Robert and Samuel compiled a Life
of their father. It is a monument of filial piety as well as a
work of great historical value, but as one of its critics observed,
the book does not err on the side of brevity, and Samuel him-
self probably felt this when, many years later, he brought out
a one-volume edition. While he was at Brighstone he also
wrote his exquisite allegory entitled Agathos.

In 1839 the Rector ot Brighstone was appointed Archdeacon
of Surrey, a promotion of great importance and one which
necessarily brought him more before the public. In May, 1840^
he was offered by the University of Oxford the Bampton Lec-
tureship. In informing his brother Robert of this, he writes:
" I have trembled and assented. I shall want your help." But
the lectures were never delivered, for though during the first
two months of 1841, he was busily engaged in their prepara-
tion, an event occurred in the March of that year which
crushed him to the ground.

On Sunday, December 20, 1840, he preached his last ser-
mon at Brighstone, for he had been offered and had accepted
the Rectorship of Alverstoke and the Canonship of Winchester.

On March 10, 1841, his beloved wife, Emily Wilberforce,
died. Every year afterwards he remembered and kept the day.
All his resignation to God's Will, all his devotion were roused
by the poignancy of this grief. His private diary reveals the
utter desolation of his soul at the moment of his agony. On
the day itself he writes : " A day of unknown agony to me.
Every feeling stunned. Paroxysms of convulsive anguish and
no power of looking up through the darkness which had set-
tled on my soul. March n. In some degree, yet but little,
able to look to God, as the smiter of my soul, for my healing.
Oh, may HE enable me to lead a life more devoted to His
glory and my Master's work. May the utter darkening of my
life, which never can be dispelled, kill in me all my ambitious

73o FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar.,

desires and earthly purposes, my love of money and power and
place, and make me bow meekly to Christ's yoke."

And the diary for Wednesday, the i7th, the day of the
funeral at Lavington, contains the following graphic words:
"The gaslight, one only, in the damp, dark morning; the Ca-
thedral* in still majesty; muffled tread, hollow voices ; strange
men bearing that beloved form from my door, and her mother
and her husband seeing the hearse drive off with all that made
life an earthly Paradise to me."

Each year, as the loth of March came, his diary shows how
fresh the grief remained. In 1853 he writes: "Woke early,
with all the events of this day twelve years as fresh as yester-
day before me. My vain hope that she slept. The heavier and
more labored sleep. The dews of death." And in 1861, he
writes: "My sweet one at rest. My own keeping through all
these years. Oh, if my sins had not forced the enduring chas-
tisement of this day, my life had been too bright for earth."
On March 10, 1864, his diary records the events of a full and
busy day, and yet the entry ends thus : " All my thoughts
all day in the Close House at Winchester, 1841, seemed yes-
terday."

For over thirty-two years he mourned her who had made
him so happy a home. Eight years after her death his sorrow
found expression in lines which deserve to be better known than
they are. These lines, dated "Lavington, February 10, 1849,"
may be found in Canon Ashwell's biography of Samuel Wilber-
force. The Canon describes them as " too tender and too
perfect to admit of one word of comment."

This, the heaviest sorrow of his life, did not prevent his
carrying on the work which he believed that God had given
him. He accepted the grief that made his life " sunless as
far as earth goes," from God's hand. " I wish to do my work
meekly and cheerfully till I also am called," he writes in the
first days of his agony, and that he retained this admirable
resignation through the years that followed is abundantly evi-
dent, though it was equally clear that his energy and cheer-
fulness were due to no forgetfulness. When he had been four-
teen years a widower we find him writing in his diary of a
family gathering at Cuddesdon: "All save Herbert and my
sainted wife together. Oh, how I long for her at such times,

* Winchester, where Samuel Wilberforce was living at the time of his wife's death.

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 731

and call on her as I lie awake at night to show herself to me,
if she may, but once to gladden these weary eyes." "I had
loved her from my boyhood. I had thought of her, I am
certain, daily, at school and at college," he writes to his in-
timate friend Charles Anderson.

" Herbert," mentioned above, was Samuel Wilberforce's eld-
est son, a young naval officer, who distinguished himself in
the Baltic campaign. In the course of it the seeds ot con-
sumption were sowed in him, and he died on February 29,
1856, to the great grief of his family and of all who knew
his lovable nature.

The Bishop of Oxford, as Samuel Wilberforce became in
1845, was celebrated as an orator and as one of the hardest
working men that ever sat on the Episcopal bench. He had
almost as great a reputation for geniality and humor, and
many witty retorts have consequently been fathered upon him
which he never uttered. It would be impossible in an article
of this length to repeat half of those that were genuinely his ;
and of course many of them need, for full appreciation, the
glance of the eye, the tone of the rich and flexible voice, and
the impromptu utterance that are lost in print. He possessed
in an extraordinary degree the power of passing from one
topic to another, giving his whole mind to each, and he could
do this equally when one subject was light and playful and
the other grave. Moreover, he was able, while conversing with
a person in a room where others also were speaking, to listen
to what was addressed to himself, and at the same time to
gather enough of some other conversation to strike in and
contribute to it.

He touched life at so many points that it is very difficult
to convey to a reader a full picture of his personality. He
had a wonderful love and knowledge of natural history, a
subject on which in the midst of a busy life he wrote articles
for the Quarterly Review. Thomas Mozley tells us that he
once heard Wilberforce and a friend "alternately name Pines
and Taxodia till they had got over fifty."

Perhaps no one ever traveled as much as he did, for his
sermons and speeches were sought for in every part of Eng-
land. To save time he carried on a portion of his immense
correspondence in trains and carriages. He sometimes dated
letters thus " Rail," adding the name of the nearest town. On

732 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar.,

one occasion a correspondent, who knew neither him nor his
ways, addressed a reply to one of the Bishop's letters: "S.
Oxon Esqre., Rail, near Reading." The letter was neverthe-
less delivered, with only the delay of a post or two, at the
Bishop's London address.

There are two little studies of character in Mozley's book
which are worth quoting. I think the narrator meant them
to illustrate the worldly-wisdom of one brother and the guile-
lessness of the other. I must warn the reader, however, that
Mozley's memory shows itself in some parts of his book very
inaccurate. I well remember Cardinal Newman saying to me
in reference to the Reminiscence 'st then just published: "I
have been quite offended with some of the things he has said
about your dear father." Rather than say nothing I replied
that it was a pity that Mozley had not made further inquiries
before writing. " It was not a case of inquiry," returned the
Cardinal instantly, " the book professes to be Reminiscences"
Still I am quite certain that Thomas Mozley retained a warm
affection for my father, an affection dating from early days at
Oriel and continuing, in spite of my father's conversion, to
the end of his life.

The first incident is one which may be true, but it is at least
curious that I should never have heard of it until I met with
it in Mozley's book. " Many years after, . . . when Henry
had gone over to Rome, the two brothers, Samuel and Henry,
gave a singular illustration of their respective shares in the
wisdom of the world. They made a trip to Paris. Immediately
after they had left their hotel to return home, there came an
invitation to the Tuileries. It was telegraphed down the line,
and brought them back to Paris, where they spent an evening
at the Tuileries, and had a long talk with the Emperor. The
Archbishop of Amiens was there, and engaged them to a re-
ception at his palace, offering them beds. It was a very grand
affair ; a splendid suite of rooms, brilliantly lighted, and all the
good people of Amiens. The bedchambers and the beds were
magnificent. Putting things together, and possibly remember-
ing Timeo Danaos, the Anglican bishop came to the conclusion
that his bed had probably not been slept in for some time or
aired either. So he stretched himself down upon the coverlid
in full canonicals, had a good night, and was all the better for
it. Henry could not think it possible a Roman Archbishop

1909.] FOUR CELEBRITIES 733

would do him a mischief, and fearlessly, or at least hopefully,
entered between the sheets. He caught a very bad cold, and
was ill for some time after." The next quotation describes the
future Bishop's cleverness in gaining his end in a small matter,
characteristic no doubt of his ability in larger spheres.

" Henry Wilberforce occasionally went to public meetings,
for which he had received the usual circular invitation, and was
frequently late. He was sure that, had he been in time, he would
have been asked to take part in the proceedings, and as he was
never without something to say, he was sorry to find himself
in a crowd of [listeners, perhaps disappointed listeners. He
noticed, however, that his brother Samuel, though quite as liable
to be behind time as himself, nevertheless was always on the
platform, and always a speaker. How could this be? Samuel
explained it straight. He was perfectly sure that he had some-
thing to say, that the people would be glad to hear it, and that
it would be good for them. He was also quite certain of hav-
ing some acquaintance on the platform. So immediately on
entering the room he scanned the platform, caught somebody's
eye, kept his own eye steadily fixed upon his acquaintance, and
began a slow movement in advance, never remitted an instant
till he found himself on the platform. The people, finding
their toes in danger, looked round, and seeing somebody look-
ing hard and pressing onwards, always made way for him. By
and by there would be a voice from the platform : ' Please allow
Mr. Wilberforce to come this way'; or, 'Please make way for
Mr. Wilberforce.' Such a movement demanded, of course, great
confidence, not to say self- appreciation, but anybody who is
honestly and seriously resolved to do good must sometimes put
a little force on circumstances. I should doubt whether Henry
ever tried to follow his brother's example."

It has been a common saying that Bishop Wilberforce was
merely an ambitious courtier, a diner-out, and a society- loving
man. Those who think thus understand nothing of his char-
acter. They know nothing of the deep, unostentatious, self-
denying piety which lay at the root of his character and formed
the mainspring of his conduct. If he was the self-indulgent,
worldly man that his enemies depict him, how is it that he was
so careful to rise early in all weathers to spend an hour or
more in private prayer ? How is it that we find him struggling
with his faults in the presence of God, and above all accepting

734 FOUR CELEBRITIES [Mar

the unspeakable sorrow of his wife's death, because it was his
Master's Will ? " I fear being scourged into devotedness" he writes
in his diary, three years before the blow fell. " Lord, give me
a will for Thee. I wish earnestly that I more wished to be as
a flame of fire in Thy service, passionless for earth, and im-
passioned for Thee. ... I could torture myself almost into
madness if HE had not said ' As thy day/ etc."

And on Good Friday, 1835, he writes in his diary: "Read
three of Newman's sermons, etc. Read Pusey's tractate on
Fasting — am convinced by it, if not of the duty, yet certainly
of the expediency of conforming to the rules of the Church on
this point. I think it likely to be especially useful to me in
three ways : first, in enabling me to realize unseen things, one
of my special difficulties ; second, as likely to help me in prayer,
in which I am greatly interrupted by an unbridled indolence;
third, in helping me to subdue the body to the spirit, which I
think very needful for me. I have also been brought to this
conclusion both by seeing in my dearest father's journals his
difficulties on this very point, when he set himself to serve
GOD in earnest, and comparing it with the mortified and un-
self- indulgent life he led afterwards. ... I have, therefore,
determined, with God's help, to make a conscience of observ-
ing the fasts of the Church. I set myself no exact limits of
abstinence, intending only to practise on those days, with a
view to self-conquest and humiliation, such self-denial, espe-
cially in meats and drinks and the like, as I can do secretly
and without injury to my health or present exertion. Help me,
Lord, to act wisely and humbly in this matter, and as in Thy
sight."

Certainly no Catholic can read his life, lamentably Protest-
ant as it is, without feeling what a splendid champion of the
Church he would have been if only he had been led into the
truth. And one puts down the volume with the sense that, as
far as his lights allowed him, he was a sincere, earnest, and
loving follower of Jesus Christ.

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.

BY JEANIE DRAKE.

|HE fitful breeze whipped a strand of hair across
the eyes of a woman hoeing in the field. She
put it back patiently with a roughened brown
hand, took another moment to wipe her forehead
on her limp calico sleeve, and went on with her
work. She was about twenty-five, though she looked twice
those years, and at fifteen, when she married, was the prettiest
maid in a wide region of drowsy valley and brooding mountain-
side.

Another woman, more than a little older, overlooking the
worker indifferently from a hammock on the inn's upper veranda,
had retained both tint and contour of girlish freshness. She
swayed the hammock, twisting undulating folds of her silken
tea-gown about her, and diffusing a delicate suggestion of the
lilac and its fragrance.

" Heavens ! " she murmured, " how much of this could one
survive? Why must Tommy have had scarlet fever and need
mountain air and quiet ? Children are always doing something
tiresome! And the magazine is nothing but tommyrot this
month."

It was her favorite periodical, Swell Swaggerers, to which
she was temporarily disloyal, as she took undoubted pleasure
in its weakly vulgar attempts at cleverness. Her listless gaze
roamed again afield.

" Won't that woman ever go away ? If she didn't keep up
that maddening digging, one could fancy her a scarecrow with
flapping rags and sticks of arms and general grotesqueness.
There goes her hair again — why does it tumble down con-
tinually ? " She must have ejaculated the last aloud, for the
landlord who had come to the doorway, answered after a de-
liberate minute or so.

"Mebbe she ain't got no ha'r-pins. Mis' Flack's a mighty
tidy woman, but she's powerful poor."

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON [Mar.,

"So I should judge," said the lady carelessly. "And —
you — you hire her for field- work?"

" She ain't a-doin' hit for fun/1 replied Pick Brattle im-
perturbably.

His slow, wide-eyed gaze surveyed the heavens above and
the peaks beneath, the babbling creek and the rustling corn-
rows, the uncouth, weather-beaten drudge in the field, and the
graceful woman of the world beside him, and whether in ap-
proval or condemnation of these works of the Creator no man
might say.

" Flack, now "—he went on after a pause — " he been dead
near about two year. She jes woke up an' foun' him thet-away
beside her one winter mornin*. Got five little uns — oldest nine.
I been a-givin' her a place to sleep" — he indicated a one-
room cabin across the pasture — " but it takes hustlin' to feed
an' cover six — ef she don't hardly eat nothin* herself. Mighty
willin' worker, Mis' Flack — washin', cookin', scrubbing milkin',
hoein' — but I'm afeard she's a gittin' weakly."

" That is no excuse," declared pretty Mrs. Warenham cold-
ly, "for letting her hair fall down six times in one afternoon."

The finality of this prevented Pick Brattle opening his
mouth again if he had so intended ; and, after another inspec-
tion of the universe, he took himself away unhurriedly.

Upon his departure Mrs. Warenham gave the magazine at
her hammock's foot a slight kick. " This is intolerable," she
declared, "that I should see another wearisome sunset and eat
another dreadful supper with this stupid crew ! But for the
one advantage in the situation " — secret complacence at this
remembrance relaxed the pettish lines of her mouth, which
softened further into dimples at the appearance on the veranda
of the One Advantage. Tall he was and straight, though plain
of feature, and wearing with his tramping suit something of
the large kindliness of all outdoors.

"Oh, Egbert," said the caressing voice plaintively, "how
could you leave me so long alone ? "

" Poor little cousin, it was rather selfish to go off fishing
without you. It was too far for your small feet, though— "

" In to-day's sun ! I should think so ! But I forgive you on
condition that I hear nothing of mossy nooks or crystal brooks
or any other eccentricities of these oppressive mountains."

He laughed tolerantly, his eyes appreciating her sweet looks.

1909.] BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON 737

" ' As for me,1 " he quoted, " « I abhor the beauties of nature.'
But your exile should end shortly now, in view of Tommy's
weight and color."

."You won't desert us, though, Egbert" — quickly. "Since
Tom died I have been lost without a man to guide and counsel
me. It was such a godsend your coming back from Egypt
just now."

" I am glad to be of use to somebody. But I can't indeed,
Grace, dawdle around springs or such places. If I am not to
shoot or tramp, I must at least get near some books."

" I am going straight from here to town and its libraries,"
she protested in sudden heroism, born of a shimmering vision
of the Lawson fortune, with incidental feeling of a sort for its
owner himself. " And — and Tommy who worships you ! " If
she did not quite blush, the downcast lashes gave that effect.

" Tommy is a great little chap," remarked his father's cousin
absently ; " but, hullo ! surely that's not the same woman I left
hoeing before daybreak — and at it still ? "

" Isn't it pitiful ? " in such tones of womanly sympathy as
Pick Brattle would not have recognized. " Poor thing, all day
long toiling, and it showered two or three times, and she must
have been drenched and then dried in the broiling sun."

" Dear God ! " muttered the man. Once more Mrs. Flack's
long coil of black hair unwound itself and she raised her aims
to twist it; but this was her final effort for the day and for
all time, as swaying she fell among the snapping corn-stalks.
Over the balustrade and down a pillar her companion had
swarmed before Mrs. Warenham's temperate curiosity was awak-
ened. Then she shrugged her shoulders and went in to dress
for the evening. But her blue eyes were sweetly grave when
later she asked Egbert Lawson for news of the mountain wo-
man. " She is lying in her cabin — six of them huddling in
one room, and the neighbors crowding. Typhoid, the doctor
thinks, or overwork, or exposure to the sun, it does not mat-
ter— something that kills. The contrast to our lives — it makes
one feel guilty somehow — "

"I know" — laying a soft hand of sympathy on his arm.
"You told the doctor that you— that I— both of us—"

" Oh, of course ; but the futility—"

Fortuitous recollection came to her of a joyous face seen
once under an apple-tree, a pretty child's, with black hair and
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 47

738 BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON [Mar.,

big gray eyes and rosy cheeks. " I should like to take charge
of one of the children/' she said gently, "if — if she dies."

"Would you, Grace? How kind; but I knew your heart
was as sweet as your face." He was near to such yielding to
her beauty and charm for him, as in previous strength he had
resisted, when Pick Brattle's comprehensive, disconcerting stare
arrived to arrest this moment of Fate. It was, perhaps, well
for Mr. Brattle that his charming guest was not Madame de
Brinvilliers, for she regarded him in passing out as one might
a saliently obnoxious feature in the near landscape.

Shortly after that time Mrs. Flack lay under a beech tree
upon the hillside, incessant labor at an end; and her children
were dispersed among those who would take them, in valley
or village, farm or factory. One, the prettiest, "Minervy"
they called her, found herself — dazed by the change — in a lux-
urious city apartment house. The only one near her who spec-
ulated with sympathetic interest on what this amazing revolu-
tion could mean to the childish mind was Egbert Lawson.

" Oh," said her Lady Bountiful lightly, when he dropped a
word of this wonder," she must realize that she is in clover.
Imagine the relief from the corn-bread and bacon — from the
society of pigs and chickens and boorish clowns — to my ser-
vants' quarters and table."

"Stupendous!" he assented. Indeed, meeting the child go-
ing in and out after little Tom, he had not failed to admire
her appearance in the new Alsatian costume and headdress.
If her gray eyes looked a bit wild and confused, the exchange
of music of mountain torrents for roar of elevated trains and
surging street crowds, of the mountain night's darkness and in-
effable hush, broken only by cockcrow now and then, for in-
cessant nocturnal clangor and hum of life might well account.

" Not crying, Minerva ? " he asked kindly, surprising once
a big tear that welled and fell silently.

" She wants to go barefooted," explained her mistress with
some sharpness. "The child should understand the absurdity
of such a thing here. She must get used to shoes."

' Yessum " ; said Minerva, meekly submissive as the cattle
of her native pastures, and went out in the pinching shoes after
the nurse and little boy.

" She is really a sort of dummy," declared Mrs. Warenham,
"with a dummy's own stare. Her 'we-uns' and 'you* uns'

1909.] BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON 739

and 'critters' are something impossible; and yesterday I
caught her dipping snuff out of a brown paper."

" How about school ? " Mr. Lawson asked.

" Oh, if she is to be of the slightest use to me it is in fol-
lowing Tom about and picking up his toys and things. She
knows the park well enough now to trust him there with her
when I need Dawson's services as maid." Her nerves were a
little uncertain these days, owing to his own tardiness, which
kept her living and entertaining on a scale somewhat wearing
on a limited income. "But for my weakness for him I might
be spending the Hardacre millions," she reflected, " and the
ancient beau who encumbers them cannot be kept in suspense
forever." Then she smiled with enchantment, to which Egbert
once more yielded his misgivings.

The torrid August sun, which had helped kill her mother,
changed to mellow September and crisp October with a meas-
ure of relief for the orphaned waif, whose lungs, used to free
air, had gasped for breath sometimes in the much-furnished
city rooms. "You look like a freckled fish," Mrs. Warenham
had then assured her. It seemed a decided liberty that a de-
pendent should manifest discomfort at temperature which the
lady herself found reason for enduring.

Another time she told the trembling Minerva: "I never
get angry. It makes ugly lines. But your clumsiness would
vex a saint. That is the third piece of bric-a-brac you have
broken in a week. If you knock over one thing more with
those scrawny elbows, Dawson shall whip you." Promptly there
came a crash as the girl, endeavoring to avoid a statuette, ran
into a vase. " Take her to your room, Dawson," commanded
their mistress. Which order became more frequent, as hope
deferred put an edge on the lady's temper, and as the child, in
certainty of offending a mistress she dumbly adored, blun-
dered ever more awkwardly.

It was after such an interview with Dawson, stoically endured,
that, wandering in the park behind the active Tommy, they
came upon Mr. Lawson. While the boy ran to clasp his rel-
ative's knees with a comrade's freedom, Egbert noted the grow-
ing thinness of Minerva's young cheek, on which freckles now
showed through lesser ruddiness.

" Is this as beautiful as your mountains, Minerva ? " he asked.

The child's gaze rested on the scarlets and yellows of au-

740 BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON [Mar.,

tumn foliage so like, and the stream of brilliant equipages so
unlike, her home, and vainly swallowed at the lump in her
throat. "You and Tommy are great friends/1 said the young
man in hasty diversion, "are you not?"

" I — I thinks a powerful sight of Tommy. He's e'enamost
our Balsam's bigness, an* they laughs jes as like's two peas.
But Mis' Warnum she tole me she didn't want no talk 'bout
we-uns at the Ridge."

" Oh, it's all right — to me. I like it. Where is Balsam
now?"

The little mountaineer's face kept its tenseness. " I don't
hear a mite o* news. Thar's nobody here knows nobody thar.
I — I kep a-thinkin' of 'em those hot nights I didn't sleep ;
but that's all, for I ain't a-knowin* nothin*. Balsam's jes as
cute — " The cool air from the lake blew on the child with
a mocking suggestion of the resinous breath of the Ridge
Country ; her hungry gaze went hopelessly to the far extent
of the strange city's roofs and steeples, seeking and finding
not; and accumulated homesickness, mounting beyond restraint,
betrayed her into sudden sobs. The women of fashion who ad-
mired Mr. Lawson, the distinguished explorer, might have
stared to see him on a secluded park bench comforting a
weeping little figure in Alsatian dress, while a small boy held,
wondering, to his coat-tail.

"You will feel better for a good cry," he told her pres-
ently. " Now dry your eyes and let us be cheerful." He
patted her shoulder, straightened the Alsatian bow, and gave
joy to Tommy and her wonted self-control, at least, to Minerva,
by a visit to the Zoo.

"We met Cousin Egbert in the park," the little boy said to
his mother, "and 'Nervy cwied, and we saw the monkeys."

" Minerva cried ? " Mrs. Warenham repeated coldly. She
shrugged her graceful shoulders. "Go away," she told the
girl, "you begin to be a nuisance. Stay out of my sight all
you can." And Minerva went henceforth with an ever op-
pressive sense of guilt upon her.

" Cold agrees with the youngster," decided Mr. Lawson,
later in the season, pinching Tommy's firm cheek. " He looks
like an apple set in fur. But Minerva's dress — a credit to your
taste, I'm sure — but isn't it a bit light?"

" My dear Egbert, I think you may trust me to take care

1909.] BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON 741

of a dependent — especially a child/1 said his cousin's widow
plaintively. And she drew him into the easiest chair and flavored
his tea just as he liked it, and talked the while in low, caress-
ing tones, so that, when she presently left the flower-scented
room to change her white silk for outdoor dress, he had dis-
missed his uneasiness about little Minerva with the reflection :
" Decidedly I am a meddlesome ass."

On the return of his hostess, in becoming gray velvet and
fur, she found him standing by the crackling wood fire ab-
sently fingering a mass of blooms. " Mr. Hardacre's violets !
Oh, take care ! Thank you ! " pinning them carefully on her
fur. " My venerable escort would not forgive their absence."
His hand had touched hers — he took it into his firm grasp:
" Grace ! " he began impetuously — and the door swung open
and a servant announced: "Mr. Hardacre."

As her elderly admirer handed her into his sleigh, "Dine
with me to-night," she called to Mr. Lawson. Her eyes
sparkled, the sleigh-bells jingled a joyous accompaniment to
her hopes of the near future. " Lovelier than your flowers,"
said Mr. Hardacre fatuously, not knowing that her thoughts
were with the tall figure they passed at the park gate.

Meanwhile the two children had been roaming along the
remoter footpaths, Tommy the rosier for the frosty air, Min-
erva blue and pinched from less cold than the little moun-
taineer had hardily enjoyed in her native wilds.

" Sure ye look sick. Ye'd better get in," advised a genial
policeman, who often talked with the pair.

"Mis' Warnum, she said we-uns was to stay out the en-
durin' mornin'," Minerva repeated dully and parrot- like.

"Well, then, keep a-stirrin' or ye'll get froze."

The children knew from Dawson that they should not go
near the water unless she were with them ; but, " Me want
f'owers," Tommy announced, spying a dash of scarlet holly-
berries on the white slope above the lake.

"You kain't go Alongside the pond," said Minerva. Tom-
my twisted his chubby features preparatory to a howl, and
the little girl knew well she dared not take him home tear-
stained. "Wait here, then "—hastily— " an1 keep plumb still,
an* I'll git 'em." She went around the water's edge and up
the untrodden snow-hill to the holly- tree.

742 BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON [Mar.,

Tugging at the thorny branches she did not at first per-
ceive the little fellow's attempt to follow her. " Git down,
thar ! " she cried, " Git down ! " and his foot slipped and he
rolled on the snow over and over and into the lake. Imme-
diately she fled down the slope, and as he came to the sur-
face plunged in after. Fortunately her first cry had reached
the friendly policeman who came sprinting to the rescue.
Mr. Lawson, walking home in some buoyancy of spirits, re-
ceived one dripping, unconscious little form from Officer Han-
Ion, who supported another.

" Thanks be ! " he told the gentleman piously, " that the girl
could swim." Occupants of a sleigh speeding along a neigh-
boring driveway were attracted by the little group on the lake
border.

" Some child in trouble," suggested Mrs. Warenham sweetly.
"Shall we inquire? I am so interested in children."

" It is like you," responded Mr. Hardacre tenderly, " you
who are guardian angel to that orphan child ! "

" Oh, oh ! " she cried, when they stopped, " it's Tommy, my
Tom ! " The policeman relinquished his burden to the very
pretty woman in gray.

" I ain't dead, mamma," said the little chap, opening his
eyes.

Mr. Hardacre heaped fur rugs about the two. The slim,
awkward, shivering girl's figure, in pitifully drenched Alsatian
dress, supported by Mr. Lawson, looked at her mistress, whose
icy glance ignored her. " You'll follow, Egbert," called the lady,
and was driven rapidly away. The expression on Mr. Lawson's
irregular features was a curious one, as Minerva again became
unconscious, a lock of her wet black hair falling across her
face.

"Under my care," he explained at the Children's Hospital.
" Yes, please, a private room."

When Tommy had long been at play again, the life of his
little deputy nurse hung still in the balance. " Pneumonia,"
the doctor said, 4< with complications. Mustn't see her mistress
on any account. Would revive patient's delirious fancy that
she had killed the boy." The crisis past, Egbert Lawson sat
every day beside the child, and, her thin hand in his, heard
her artless revelations. She gave him, unawares and quite un-

1909.] BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON 743

complainingly, some idea of the frequency of Dawson's disci-
pline and of the extent of her own loneliness.

"You-uns all in this yere town/' she said, "jes natchally
thinks a heap of sech as Tommy ; but Mis' Warnurn, now, she
couldn't help despisin' common kind like me. More she tole
me to look out thar, more I seemed to run into them that
purty crockeries. My maw, Mist' Lawson — you mightn't believe
it — but my maw, she used to pat my head sometimes and tell
me I was a good little gal. But Dawson, she says I'm a him-
pudent beggar an' nasty poorhouse trash."

The unconscious imitation of Dawson's London accent did
not bring a smile to the young man's compressed lips. " Why
doesn't she get better ? " he asked the doctor. That gentle-
man raised his brows, " Some sort of depression — rather unnat-
ural in a child. But if she doesn't respond pretty soon" — he
touched his lungs and heart expressively.

" See here," said Mr. Lawson next day, " what a nice doll
just would come with me."

The little patient thanked him, but the gift presently fell
from listless hands.

" I dremp* las' night," she told him, " thet the men was on
a coon-hunt, an* we little uns, we crep out to listen to the
hound dogs a-barkin' up on Big Ben. An' thar was a gret,
white moon over the mounting, an* a owl a-hootin' down by
the crik, an* you could smell the trees. Did you ever smell
the woods by night ? " She closed her eyes in a wan smile.

"Listen, Minerva. Hurry and get strong, and just as soon
as you are up and dressed, we will go — you and I — and see
Big Ben."

She trusted him with a child's sureness of instinct; and
from that time amazed the doctor by her rapid recovery.

One day Mrs. Warenham, a thought paler than usual, sat
with this note in her fingers:

DEAR GRACE: As you know my erratic habit of wander-
ing, it will not surprise you to learn that I have taken a fancy
to see the Blue Ridge in winter; and, incidentally, to restore
Minerva Flack to her own people. You will pardon the liberty,
I am sure. From that region I shall probably seek passage by
the first outgoing steamer for the Mediterranean, as Egypt

744 BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON [Mar.

draws me again irresistibly. Leaving best wishes for yourself

and Tommy,

Sincerely,

EGBERT LAWSON.

After a while she threw this into the fire and sat down to
write her acceptance of Mr. Hardacre.

At the same time Pick Brattle stood in front of his inn with
Mr. Lawson, both of them watching a little, black- haired girl,
who prattled as she led her small, rosy brother across the foot-
log, following Mrs. Brattle with the milk pails.

" We'll take care of Balsam and of her/1 said Pick Brattle,
"jes the same as we would of our own ef we had any. Your
money'll be used, Sir, jes as you say — for schoolin1 an* ever'-
thing right. The gal's eyes is brighter already, and you kin
mos' see the flesh a-growin'."

Again his gaze roved comprehensively over snow- topped
mountains and spicy evergreens, the torrent tumbling along its
rocks and the breath of a wagoner's team smoking upward at
the ford. " It's a mighty bad thing — thet thar lonesomeness,
with 'everything plumb flat an* strange around ye, an1 nothin*
friendly like. Yes, sir; I've knowed folks die of it."

LITERATURE AND MORALITY.

BY R. L. MANGAN, S.J.

|HE New York Review for September, 1907, con-
tained an article, " A Starting Point in Ethics,"
in which the writer pleaded for a return to the
Aristotelian point of view for the purposes of
apologetic. It was urged that, whilst amongst
ourselves we could still hold as the proximate norm of con-
duct the dictates of our rational nature, in the face of our
friends the enemy we might do well to emphasize more the
effect of moral action on the perfection of the rational spirit,
and look rather to function than to duty. Aristotle does not
ask of a certain course of conduct whether it is forbidden by
the law of God, still less whether it will increase pleasure, but
only whether it will improve function. If it tends to perfect
the highest part of man, if it is the activity of the soul in
accordance with what is best in human nature, that action is
good — conducive to the "well-being" of man. This, it has
been pointed out, gives us a less immediate norm of conduct.
That is true; but we are not concerned with a new basis of
ethics, but with a method of approaching those to whom the
Catholic system of morality is practically without meaning.

It is only a question of accustoming ourselves to present
our ethics, for the purpose of apologetic, in a different order
from that in which we usually study them. Let us learn
how to start with the moral facts as we find them, and to keep
out, at least from our initial treatment, all reference to God,
to a future life, to obligation, duty, conscience, sin. When
we have finished with ethics proper, with " happiness," with
eudaemonism, we can go on to deontology (or the science of
what ought to be done) and to that Natural Theology which
furnishes the only explanation of the actual phenomena of
conscience. We need not begin by working out the connec-
tion between God's law and human conscience, or between
conscience and conduct.*

* " A Starting Point in Ethics." By Rev. C. Plater, New York Review, September, 1907.

746 , LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.,

Oliver Wendell Holmes said long ago that the world would
go back to Aristotle, and this suggestive essay reminds us
that in the theory of the well-being of the soul, its activ-
ity in the highest manner, we may perhaps be able to con-
struct for the "tired rationalist" a path through the jungle
of contradictions and misunderstanding in the matter of liter-
ature and morality.

Catholics, with revelation to aid them, may view the truth
from many points of view. The important thing to determine
is how to present it to those who are not so happily placed.
If David cannot walk in the armor of Saul, it is better that
he should face the giant of unbelief with confidence in God
and a few smooth pebbles from the brook. We are confronted
with men who cannot at once take in the idea of an Omnipo-
tent Judge, dispensing reward and punishment. To put such a
thought before them is to preclude all hope of conviction.
They fall back into the attitude expressed, or tacitly implied,
in so much modern verse :

I shrug my shoulders and acquiesce
In things that are. I believe the bond

For us is a common weariness,

A light despair of the things beyond.

We greet with laughter the ancient curse
Knowing it might be worse.

The Commandments are, for the most part, stated nega-
tively, and they were written on tables of stone small enough
to be carried by Moses down the mountain side ; but, in real-
ity, they are found to be very positive finger-posts to the city
of Mansoul. The Catholic may well be grateful for the posi-
tion from which he is able to see that man's proximate end,
his attempt to reach the highest form of the good to which his
reason points, is referable to and summed up in God Himself.
But, for the purposes of apologetic, it is not necessary to put
forward that view to those who are not ready for it.

The question of the relation of art and morality has exer-
cised the mind of man, probably from the time when he first
began to practice morality or to study art. But, if one may
judge by the work of living artists, that question is as far
from solution as ever. The cry of " Art for Art's Sake " has
been constantly repeated and denied, and as constantly mis-

1909.] LITERATURE AND MORALITY 747

understood, both by its advocates and its opponents; one side
asserts that morality has no relation whatsoever to art, the
other that art must be the conscious servant of its mistress if
it is to live long and bring forth fruit worthy of its powers.
We seem to have lost sight of the truth that though, as St.
Ignatius says in the Exercises, (t the other things on the face
of the earth were created for man's sake and in order to aid
him in the prosecution of the end for which he was created,"
art as a living and personal, not a dead and symbolic, instru-
ment, may best assist man to reach his goal by achieving its
own proximate end. We propose to try and throw some
light on a vexed question by an examination of that particu-
lar pleasure called aesthetic, which is admitted to be the aim
and proximate end of all art.

In the time of Aristotle the traditional theory was that
poetry had a distinct moral purpose ; it was essentially di-
dactic. Homer, for example, was a great teacher of the rules
of moral life. So strongly was this view held that even Aris-
tophanes feels obliged to claim for comedy that it is "ac-
quainted with justice/1 and for himself that he is a moral and
political adviser, the best poet the Athenians ever had, be-
cause he had the courage to tell them what was right. His
objection to Euripides is substantially the same as our objec-
tion to-day to the extreme realistic school, expressed by Mr.
George Meredith in the epigram, "The world imagines those
to be at nature's depths who are impudent enough to expose
its muddy shallows." Plato, again, is so preoccupied with the
erection of his ideal state, and the ethical effect of poetry as
a training for the young, that he has not given us a clear ex-
position of the value of poetry or of fine art generally, con-
sidered on aesthetic grounds alone. Aristotle is the first to
distinguish between the political or educational value of art
and the aesthetic pleasure which is its proximate end.

Aristotle, as our enquiry has shown, was the first who at-
tempted to separate the theory of aesthetics from that of
morals. He maintains consistently that the end of poetry is
refined pleasure. In doing so he severs himself decisively
from the older didactic tendency of Greece. But in de-
scribing the means to the end he does not altogether cast off
the earlier influence. The aesthetic representation of char-

748 . LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.,

acter he views under ethical lights, and the different types of
character he reduces to moral categories. Still he never
allows the moral purpose of the poet or the moral effects of
his art to take the place of the artistic end. If the poet fails
to produce the proper pleasure, he fails in the specific func-
tion of his art. He may be good as a teacher, but as a poet
or artist he is bad.*

Mr. Butcher goes on to show how the prevailing didactic
theory became firmly established in the Roman world, was
translated thence to France, was adopted in England from
the French, until the independent spirit of Dryden once more
formulated the opposite view in his Defence of an Essay of
Dramatic Poetry : "I am satisfied if it (verse) cause delight;
for delight is the chief if not the only end of poesy; instruc-
tion can be admitted but in the second place, for poesy only
instructs as it delights."

To-day, the opposite poles are perhaps best represented by
Tolstoy with his uncompromising opposition to hedonism in
any form, and by Walter Pater and his school, whose funda-
mental error is that they confuse the end of art with the end
of life. The conclusion to his volume on the Renaissance is
well known but it will bear repeating :

Well ! we are all condamnes, as Victor Hugo says ; we are
all under sentence of death, but with a sort of indefinite re-
prieve— les hommes sont tons condamnes a mort avec des sursis
indefinis ; we have an interval, and then our place knows us
no more. Some spend this interval in listlessness, some in
high passion, the wisest, 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, ecstacy, and sorrow ot love, the various forms of en-
thusiastic 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 con-
sciousness. Of this wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of
beauty, the love of art for art's sake, has most ; for art
conies to you professing frankly to give nothing but the
highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply
for those moments' sake.

* Butcher : Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, p. 234.

1909.] LITERATURE AND MORALITY 749

The pernicious effect of such frank hedonism on the lives
and writing of some of his contemporaries is too well known
to call for further comment, and it has frightened many of our
Catholic writers into the opposite error, that art must have for
its proximate end the service of morality and religion and noth-
ing but that. We are afraid of the independence of art, be-
cause its abuse has been so flagrant. But as long as we re-
member that art is not the whole but only a part of life, there
seems to be no reason why we should not agree with Professor
Bradley in his inaugural lecture on the Art of Poetry, given at
Oxford a few years ago, when he claimed that art is its own
end. We shall find that just as in ethics the perfecting of the
rational nature by individual acts pushes a man gradually God-
ward, so art, if it fulfills its aim, will issue in something of
which it perhaps never dreamed, and will possess that " par-
ticipation of divineness" which Milton claimed for poetry.

"All art and therefore literature," it has been said, "may
be defined objectively as the creation of the beautiful, and sub-
jectively as the creation of aesthetic pleasure"; and as the lat-
ter is the effect of the former, we may, by a consideration of
the nature of aesthetic pleasure, arrive at some idea of the man-
ner in which the artist's soul must act in order to produce the
beautiful. " The impression of the beautiful," says Father La-
couture,* "is the joy arising from the perception of order in
its splendor." This joy does not spring from the action of an
isolated faculty, but the whole soul takes part in it, as Ruskin
saw, because the impression of the beautiful brings all the fac-
ulties into harmony. It is the immediate and disinterested in-
tellectual grasp, following upon perception, which distinguishes
the aesthetic pleasure from every other. Disinterested, we say,
because there is in it no trace of desire, jealousy, or egotism.
St. Thomas Aquinas says:

De ratione boni est quod in eo quietetur appetitus, sed ad
rationem pulchri pertinet quod in eius aspectu quietetur ap-
petitus.

* We prefer to say, with Father Verest, that beauty is the fineness of truth. Cf. Pater :
" Truth ! There can be no merit, no craft at all without that. And further, all beauty is in
the long run only fineness of truth, what we call expression, the finer accommodation of
speech to that vision within." — Essay on Style. This more for clearness" sake than for any-
thing else, as Father Lacouture rightly objects that truth is after all only order in ideas. Pa-
ter's conception of truth seems to us not wide enough, and we quote him merely for the hap-
py equivalent of la splendeur du Vrai.

750 LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.,

And again:

Bonum est id quod simpliciter complacet appetitui, pul-
chrum autem id cuius apprehensio placet.

This harmonizing of the faculties is akin, in its effect, to
that purgation by pity and terror, that cleansing of the soul,
which Aristotle posited as the end of tragedy. ^Esthetic pleas-
ure frees the soul from brute inclinations and replaces them by
order and harmony ; it lets " the ape and tiger die."

So whensoever the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul,
David took his harp and played with his hand, and Saul was
refreshed and was better, for the evil spirit 'departed from
him.

That is an aesthetic as well as an historical fact; whether
St. Teresa was as proficient on the flute and tambourine which
she used to play on feast days, is a matter for conjecture, but
we may be sure that a woman at once so sensible and so sen-
sitive to beauty, recognized the psychological effects of beau-
tiful music, as also would St. Francis, who, we are told, used
to ask Brother Pacific to play the guitar. There is no need to
labor the point. The average man who has, by sight or hear-
ing, been brought into contact with the beautiful knows by ex-
perience the peculiar quality of the pleasure, and all who have
" put away the things of a child " without forgetting them, know
that the quantity of aesthetic pleasure is regulated by the men-
tal and moral balance of the soul. Its cause is more difficult
to gauge, though it would seem almost certainly to lie in the
harmonious action of all the faculties at once. All pleasure
may be said to arise from the free activity of one or other of
the functions of our complex life, finding in action the good
conformable to its nature. The intellect may find pleasure in
the pursuit or possession of truth, the will in victory over temp-
tation, but the activity of isolated faculties is not purged of all
egoistic elements, and does not result in that peculiar pleasure
which we call aesthetic. If the intellect reposes in the posses-
sion of that which is true, the resulting joy does not seem to
pass beyond the bounds of the intellectual faculty, and produce
that distinctly sensible emotion, that real trembling of the soul,
which is felt in the presence of the beautiful. This is a fact
of experience, verifiable by any man of average intellect and
sensibility who cares to compare, for example, the difference

1909.] LITERATURE AND MORALITY 751

between a theological definition of prayer and Millet's "An-
gelus."

If, then, this peculiar pleasure is due to the concomitant
action of the soul's faculties acting in harmony upon an object,
we may presume that, as art is a message from soul to soul,
the production of the beautiful will be due to the harmonious
and complete action of the spiritual powers of the artist's soul.
At once we get an objective criterion of judgment, and may
hold with Brunetiere against Lemaitre and Anatole France and
their " adventures of a soul in a land of masterpieces," that the
beauty of a literary work is something independent of the
reader, something objective and absolute. To say this is not
to deny the value of the subjective impression of the two French
critics. Each of them may be, for aught we know, that man
of sound aesthetic instinct whom Aristotle makes the final court
of appeal, as he makes the man of moral perception the stan-
dard of right. What we assert is that the subjective impres-
sion is based upon objective facts, of which some analysis can
be made.

What is it in literature which goes to constitute the fine ex-
pression of truth? On this question we could have no better
guide than Father George Longhaye, whose work Theorie des
Belles- Lettres is not, we fear, as well known by Catholics as it
deserves to be. Speech is in itself the image of human nature,
corporal by the sound, Vair battu, as Bossuet says, spiritual by
the thought. It conveys to the reader an object and also the
revelation of a soul. Whether he will or no, the writer reveals
his soul in every utterance of any worth, he draws the thing
as he sees it. His vision is his own, whether he sees all things
that they are very good, or some particular thing that it is
very bad. No matter what his theory of art or morals, he
wishes to produce a certain effect, an effect of power and com-
pleteness. He wishes to influence another soul. Virgil, it is
said, when near to death, asked his friend to burn the -<Eneid,
but he was not, we may be sure, moved by any foolish notion
of art divorced from all appeal to his fellow- men. That idea
is modern and does not arise from that "passionate desire of
unattainable perfection " which Mr. Mackail notes as charac-
teristic of Virgil. How then does speech produce this wonder-
ful and complete action ? By affecting all the faculties of the
reader at once. Let us take an example.

752 i LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.,

A chronicler of the time might tell us that there was once
a certain officer of the English army named George Osborne.
He had married a young girl whose ardent love he did not
return and to whom he was, in heart, at least, unfaithful. On
the night before the battle of Waterloo, stirred by the emo-
tions produced by the chances of war, he went to his wife's
room to say good-bye, and thinking she was asleep he ap-
proached the bed and bent down over the pillow. His wife
was awake and embraced him affectionately. Compare this with
Thackeray :

She had been awake when he first entered the room, but
had kept her eyes closed so that even her wakefulness should
not seem to reproach him. But when he had returned, so
soon after herself, too, this timid little heart had felt more at
ease, and turning towards him as he stepped softly out of the
room, she had fallen into a light sleep. George came in and
looked at her again, entering still more softly. By the pale
night-lamp he could see her sweet pale face — the purple eye-
lids were fringed and closed, and one round arm, smooth and
white, lay outside the coverlet. Good God ! how pure she
was ; how gentle, how tender, and how friendless ! and he
how selfish, brutal, and black with crime ! Heart-stained
and shame-stricken — he stood at the bed's foot, and looked
at the sleeping girl. How dared he — who was he, to pray for
one so spotless ! God bless her ! God bless her ! He came
to the bedside and looked at the hand, the little soft hand,
lying asleep ; and he bent over the pillow noiselessly towards
the gentle pale face. Two fair arms closed tenderly round his
neck as he stooped down. " I am awake, George," the poor
child said, with a sob fit to break the little heart that nestled
so closely by his own. She was awake, poor soul, and to
what? At that moment a bugle from the Place of Arms be-
gan sounding clearly, and was taken up through the town ;
and amidst the drums of the infantry, and the shrill pipes of
the Scotch, the whole city awoke.

Wherein does the difference lie? In the first the writer
appeals only to the intelligence, he is reporting facts and noth-
ing more; whereas Thackeray is bringing into play all the
faculties of his soul in due subordination, and the reader's
soul, in consequence, is moved in the same way. Our imagi-
nation is stirred to picture to itself the dimly-lighted room,
with its two tragic figures in striking contrast — the pure, un-

1909.] LITERATURE AND MORALITY 753

selfish girl and the selfish, indulgent husband. A few lines
put us into relation with the adventures of their souls, the
sensibility has been touched, the whole man has been thrilled
by awe, pity, and admiration. The ear has taken its part in
the symphony. Thackeray, often so careless in style, is " lifted
to the height of his high argument/* and the varied music of
his rhythms assists the expression of his thought. Most im-
portant of all, the intelligence holds the mastery in its search
for essential truth. There is nothing at which the will revolts
and the imagination and the sensibility are held in check, be-
ing granted only that range of liberty which will enable them
to help to produce the final effect. Intellect, will, imagination,
sensibility, ear, have combined to produce a pleasure that is
unique, because they have in the writer's creation acted in
harmony, conforming to the true character of the object, and
to the balanced and healthy nature of the human soul.

This theory of the Hierarchy of the Faculties is, we think,
the most philosophical yet propounded, and, to give honor to
whom honor is due, it cannot be doubted that the French
Jesuit taught it long before one whose name is better known,
the late M. Ferdinand Brunetiere. The present writer remem-
bers well a certain day some ten years ago, when Father Long-
haye entered his lecture room with a letter which, judging from
his manner, evidently contained news of importance. It was
from the French academician. After some graceful compli-
ments on Father Longhaye's work, it went on to say that the
writer intended to propose to the Academy that his History of
French Literature in the Seventeenth Century was worthy of
the prize for the best work on literature. The reader's voice
trembled a little as he spoke of M. Brunetiere's generosity and
asked his hearers to pray that God would grant him light to
see the truth. That the grace was given and received is known
to everybody. So much for anecdote. We cannot help think-
ing that Brunetiere must have been influenced by the more im-
portant of the author's two books on literature when we find
him writing as follows:

What properly constitutes a classic is the equilibrium in him
of all the faculties that go to make the perfection of the work
of art, a healthiness of mind, just as the healthiness of the body
is the equilibrium of the forces that resist [death. A k classic
TOL. LXXXVIII. — 48

754 LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.,

is a classic, because in him all the faculties find their legiti-
mate function — without imagination overstepping reason,
without logic impeding the flight of imagination, without
sentiment encroaching on the rights of good sense, without
the matter allowing itself to be despoiled of the persuasive
authority it should borrow from the charm ot the form, and
without the form ever usurping an interest that should belong
to the matter. — Essays in French Literature.

It may be said that Matthew Arnold had some inkling of
this when he stated as the characteristics of high quality in
poetry, the superior character of truth and seriousness of mat-
ter allied to superiority of diction and movement marking its
style and manner. But without undervaluing the debt which
English criticism owes to Arnold, we doubt whether he saw
the philosophical bearing, the depth and reach of the theory
as propounded by his French contemporary. He certainly did
not learn it from Sainte-Beuve, and it is probably due to his
sound aesthetic instinct and his gift of narrating with beauty of
style " the adventures of a soul in the land of masterpieces.*'
Two other French critics of equal if not greater power have
fallen into error on this point. Taine would put imagination
on the same level with the other faculties, and refuses to allow
its subordination to any other authority. Paul Bourget, in his
younger days, committed the same mistake. In his Essais de
Psychologic Contemporaine t quoted by Father Longhaye, he says :

II y a plaisir, certes, et comme une ivresse a voir une faculte
grandir dans une cerveau jusqu' a devenir demesure'e.

And again :

ly'histoire de la litterature, dit-on, est une longue et inutile
demonstration de ces deux verites contradictoires — (sic.) — que
les intelligences n'ont de valeur que par la predominance
d'une faculte et que toute faculte predominate finit par
steriliser 1 'intelligence qu'elle absorbe.

This last paradox has a considerable element of truth.
Literature, as Cardinal Newman has shown, is no earthly para-
dise. In his plea for the inclusion of literature in a university
education he states the case against himself as only Newman
could :

I wish this were all that had to be said to the disadvantage
of Literature ; but while nature physical remains fixed in its

1909.] LITERATURE AND MORALITY 755

laws, nature moral and social has a will of its own, is self-
governed, and never remains any long while in that state
from which it started into action. Man will never continue
in a mere state of innocence ; he is sure to sin, and his litera-
ture will be the expression of his sin, and this whether he be
heathen or Christian. Christianity has thrown gleams of
light on him and his literature, but it has not converted him but
only certain choice specimens of him, so that it has not changed
the characters of his mind or of his history ; his literature is
either what it was, or worse than what it was, in proportion
as there has been an abuse of knowledge granted and a re-
jection of truth. On the whole, then, I think it will be found,
and ever found, as a matter of course, that literature, as such,
no matter of what nation, is the science or history, partly and
at best of the natural man, partly of man in rebellion.

The theory of the ordered powers of the soul does not lose
sight of original sin written large over the history of literature.
Far from it. It is precisely because it keeps those lamentable
results in view, that it asserts that such results authorize and
justify nothing. The fact is undeniable, but it can never prove
a right. Human nature is still, at bottom, sane and healthy,
still, like St. Paul, wills the good which, perhaps, it does not,
aiming higher than it ever reaches, sensitive always to truth
and beauty. But Bourget strikes a much more important truth
in the last sentence, where he says that the predominant faculty
ends by sterilizing the intellect. It will, we take it, be con-
ceded even by the thoroughgoing hedonist, that the faculties
of the soul differ in rank and importance. Man is of soul and
body, and the spiritual faculties of intellect and will are higher
in rank and importance than the five senses by whose service
his soul is brought into action. But man is not pure spirit
working in the cramping limits of the body, a soul in gaol, as
Plato thought.

From the true substantial union between the two arise the
Imagination and the Sensibility, whose concurrence is required
for full activity. Le style est rhomme meme, as Buffon said, the
homo universalis compound of spirit and matter, not in antag-
onism but co-operating, when rightly used, to his highest aim.

What is he but a brute
Whose flesh has soul to suit,
Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play ?

756 $ LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.,

To man propose this test —
Thy body at its best,
How far can that project thy soul on its lone way?

At the head of the hierarchy stands the intellect, laboring
and slow of movement in comparison with the sweeping intui-
tions of pure spirit, but in itself the faculty which makes us a
little lower than the angels. The goal of truth is reached by
a long and circuitous route. Man must toil, " like a miner in
a landslip," comparing, contrasting, deducing ideas, eager for
truth, impatient of error and insincerity. Along this perilous
road he must travel from thought to thought, avoiding pleasant
but misleading byways, banishing with courage the easy ex-
cuse to halt and pitch his tent halfway to the object of his
search. A mere matter of logic, no doubt, but logic, lucidity,
is the first note of style. But the morality of style, as John
Morley says, goes " deeper than chill fools suppose." It lies
not only in the order and movement of our thoughts, but in
the manner in which we conceive each single one of them.
Before we have begun to arrange and group them, a hidden
wizard has been at work simplifying or ornamenting the mate-
rial of experience. The confessional is a stone of scandal to
many non-Catholics, but all who write the adventures of a soul
go to confession, not to one with whom the secret is inviolable,
but to all who have eyes to read between the lines. And what
a confession it often is of ignorance, incompetence, insincerity,
and laziness ! Imagination, on the borderland between intellect
and sense, evokes under sensible images the immaterial and ab-
sent objects of sense, giving to

airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

But beyond color and imagery it cannot go. Thus it serves
as handmaiden to the intellect, which penetrates the outward
surface of things, and attains to the abstract and universal idea,
compares, judges, and pronounces judgment. Thus allied with,
and subordinate to, the intelligence, imagination is raised and
spiritualized. In the same way the sensibility is the servant
of will, not pure spirit, not free ~as is its master, but a faculty
peculiar to man from which arises one of his keenest pleasures.
Suppose, for a moment, you have suddenly received a piece of
bad news. The intelligence conceives the object, the imagina-

1909.] LITERATURE AND MORALITY 757

tion fixes it, gives it color and form, and if not checked tends
to exaggerate it ; the will moves towards or away from the ob-
ject, and with this movement comes that shock to the whole
organism of keen pleasure or pain.

But reverse this order, destroy the delicate balance of the
soul, and we have the lamentable result seen in much literature
both present and past. Even those who will not grant a hier-
archy of faculties, who consider that the imagination and the
sensibility are on the same level as intellect, will testify to the
disastrous effects both to the soul and to literature of such
doctrine in practise.

Aristotle makes it clear that the highest activity, which is
practically identical with the highest pleasure, is an activity of
the spiritual faculties, because, as faculties, they work continu-
ously, without fatigue or injury. Thought can never be too
clear or lofty, action never too high or generous, for the intel-
lect and will. But it is not the same with the lower powers of
imagination and sensibility. The continuous exertion of these
not only stupifies the intellect and dulls the will, but each
strain made upon them affects their capabilities and makes them
insensible to anything but strain.

Give free rein to the imagination and the intellect will cease
to do its proper work of penetration and judgment. It will
play with the images evoked, lose all concern for truth and
sincerity, abandon the hard work of thought. Ask a young
literary student what he considers to be the real thought un-
derlying the "Ancient Mariner"? Unless he is like the math-
ematician who brought back the borrowed copy of Paradise
Lost with the remark that he did not see what it proved, you
will find, if we mistake not, that his intellect has been put quietly
to sleep by the enchanting imagery of that wonderful poem.
The case is, we think, worse with Swinburne, a master of im-
agery and verbal music. It is ungrateful, perhaps, but the lines
of W. S. Gilbert recur to the memory after reading Swinburne:

And my harrassed spirit rolls
In the universe of souls,
Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means.

The effects of the rupture of the hierarchy are far more
serious when the sensibility is allowed unchartered license.
This is a matter of serious consideration to parents and edu-

758 LITERATURE AND MORALITY [Mar.

cators at the present day, when literature is so cheap and so
widely distributed that it is becoming increasingly difficult to
check the reading of the young. More than fifteen hundred
novels are published in the English language every year. Apart
from the type, which is frankly immoral, could any man seri-
ously hold that the effect of the average modern novel is in
the direction of good ? The most striking note in modern fic-
tion seems to us to be effect at any cost. With the exception
of an honorable few, there is not only an utter blindness to
literary beauty, but no aim at all but that of administering
shocks to the sensibility. It is as if ;a whole nation were to
take to dram-drinking. The habit is not only ruinous in itself,
but the doses must be increased in strength to meet the crav-
ing of the drinker. The result of this abuse is blindness to
true beauty, scepticism of the heart, egotism and cruelty. We
have suffered from the realism of the slum and the glorification
of the educated thief; and the evil effect on silly, weak souls
is only equalled by the exaggerated sentimentality, false pathos,
and insincerity of the novel purporting to deal with the noblest
of the passions. The final goal of such a movement is clear.

But the immediate evil results to aesthetic pleasure are no
less important to notice. Listen to the confession of Flaubert
— " Autant je me sens cxpansif.fluide, abondant et debordant dans
Us douleurs ficlives, autant les vraies restent, dans mon cceur,
acres et dures" Morality apart, one cannot take liberties with
the faculties of the soul. The kingdom of heaven, of that pe-
culiar joy, is not to be won but by a spiritual violence, a con-
trolled act of power, the harmonious and regulated action of
the soul. That is the first commandment of the law of litera-
ture, and a man who can be made to see its reasonableness will
be led irresistibly to the conviction that this end is contained
in one still higher which expresses it more fully, gives it a
wider range and a more immediate standard of judgment. He
will see that though art is not morality, is not even contained
in it, nor vice- versa, yet the two are in inevitable contact on
account of the nature of the human soul.

Nay more. The study of the classics of any age or coun-
try will reveal that background of eternity which is the life of
literature. Whether in obedience or revolt, the permanent not
the passing, the eternal not the temporal is the highest subject
for the contemplation of the soul, both in literature and in life.

IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE.

BY MAISIE WARD.

|0 a casual visitor in Constantinople who has never
studied the Mohammedan religion as a system
and knows but little of its tenets, it is curious
and fascinating to try to realize and understand
it to some extent from its influence on the con-
duct and character of its disciples. But more than with any
other race or religion does one fail with the Turks to glimpse
below the surface. Certain rules they obey, certain actions they
perform, but their inner feelings and thoughts remain forever
a mystery to the outsider.

This does not, however, diminish — perhaps it increases — the
interest with which one watches their actions and sees by what
rules of conduct they are governed.

That prayer forms a great part in the lives of good Moham-
medans is certain. From the minaret of every mosque the
muezzin calls to prayer five times daily, and in the bazaars
and streets many will leave their goods and lay aside their oc-
cupations and obey the call. During Ramazan — the great fast
— they eat nothing till sunset, and on " the night of power "
the mosques are crowded with fervent worshippers.

Their religion forbids wine at any time. It prescribes one
complete and three partial ablutions daily — the courtyard of
every mosque is supplied with rows of taps where worshippers
may make their ablutions before entering. Great reverence is
inculcated ; the shoes must be laid aside in the mosques and
certain forms of bowing and prostrating towards Mecca must
be observed during prayer.

There are several sects among Mohammedans, holding some-
what different tenets — chief among these are the various orders
of dervishes, some of whom are quite heretical.

The dancing and howling dervishes who may be seen at
Constantinople and Scutari are interesting examples of a strange
species of religious excitement. The latter not being very well
known, it seems worth while to describe the service that took

760 IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE [Mar.,

place one day when I was present — it varies, of course, slightly
from time to time.

The service was held in a small mosque in a side street at
Scutari. The middle space was railed off and spectators stood
behind the railing on two sides. At one side was a shrine
looking towards Mecca, and in the corner a raised, railed plat-
form where some children were standing.

Several dervishes came in as we entered and each exchanged
the " kiss of peace " with the chief dervish or " high priest."
Then the congregation came in — only about twenty men — who
took their stand round the sides of the square inside the rail-
ing ; each removed his coat and fez, which were laid near the
shrine, and they were supplied with white linen caps instead.

Seated on the floor, one of the dervishes read passages from
the Koran, while the congregation bowed incessantly from side
to side, singing — or shouting — " Allah illah, illah 'llah " over
and over again. After this had gone on for about half an hour
they all looked absolutely exhausted and ready to faint; the
shout became hoarse, the words unintelligible, and they seemed to
be swinging their bodies merely from habit and without volition.

I wondered whether they would ever be able to stop, but
they did so suddenly and with no apparent difficulty and all
sat down on the floor while some prayers were read.

The chief dervish then went up to the shrine and seated
himself before it. He was a fine looking man with a calm and
beautiful face.

A garment was brought to him to be blessed; he blew upon
it and tied a knot in the sleeve ; then they brought a child on
whom he also blew. Last came an old man — stiff with rheu-
matism apparently. With great difficulty he lay down on the
floor. The priest then removed his shoes and stood with all
his weight on the prostrate figure, seeming by his expression
to be in rapt prayer the while.

It looked rather terrible, but the man rose and departed ap-
parently unhurt.

The bowing and chanting was then resumed for a while,
after which congregation and dervishes linked arms and went
round in a circle, one standing in the middle. Their voices are
fine and the chanting alone was very impressive, if one could
avoid seeing their pale, exhausted faces and swaying forms.
Some of them stamped too, as though in a frenzy of excitement.

1909.] IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE 76 1

After this dance the service proper was over and most of
the congregation departed; a few, however, remained to receive
the " gift of God " — by far the most impressive part of the
whole ceremony. They prostrated themselves before the shrine,
then rising held their hands out, palms upward, with a solemnly
expectant expression. Then — when the gift had come — they
lifted their hands to their foreheads and departed quietly.

This takes place every week. It gave me occasion to note
for the first time that there is no color prejudice among the
Turks, for one of the dervishes was a big negro.

Nothing that one sees in the mosques has the same strange
effect as this ceremony. There one may come upon a few men
praying at any hour of the day — quite quietly, standing, bow-
ing, and prostrating themselves. Such worshippers and the
number of the mosques give a deeper impression of the reli-
gious spirit of the people of Constantinople than the frenzies
of howling dervishes.

And, indeed, the number of mosques in Stamboul is very
great, both of those which were once Christian churches and
of those which are of later date. Among the former St. Sophia,
of course, stands pre-eminent both for size, beauty, and his-
torical interest.

It is not probable that exalted motives of piety inspired
Constantine in his foundation of the original St. Sophia. In-
deed it has been surmised that he chose the name of Holy
Wisdom that the edifice might be equally appropriate for a
Christian church or a heathen temple ; for it seemed uncertain
at that date whether Christianity or paganism would finally pre-
vail as the religion of the empire. This surmise is strength-
ened by the fact that Constantine dedicated another great church
to St. Irene or Holy Peace.

"The principal church," says Gibbon, "which was dedicated
by the founder of Constantinople to St. Sophia, or the Eternal
Wisdom, had been twice destroyed by fire ; after the exile of
John Chrysostom and during the Nika of the blue and green
factions. No sooner did the tumult subside than the Christian
populace deplored their sacrilegious rashness; but they might
have rejoiced in the calamity had they foreseen the glory of
the new temple, which at the end of forty days was strenuous-
ly undertaken by the piety of Justinian. . . ."

The new Cathedral of St. Sophia was consecrated by the
Patriarch five years, eleven months, and ten days from the first

762 IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE [Mar.,

foundation ; and in the midst of the solemn festival Justinian
exclaimed with devout vanity : " Glory be to God, who hath
thought me worthy to accomplish so great a work ; I have
vanquished thee, O Solomon ! "

It is strange how the Turks have managed to make this
church of eminently Christian architecture, created by Justin-
ian's architect Anthemius, so completely their own. They have
whitewashed the mosaics, almost concealing all the Christian
imagery ; they have carpeted the paved floors and set up a
shrine towards Mecca; and they have hung huge shields with
the Sultan's monogram on every pillar. They, too, have tra-
ditions connected with the very stone — not always pleasant
ones. Pausing between two pillars the imaun who conducted
us spoke energetically to our kavass, pointing out certain marks
high up on both.

" He says," the kavass translated, " that this is the mark
of Mahomet's hand (Mahomet, or the Conqueror), this of his
sword, and this of his horse's hoof as he rode a conqueror
into the city. The church was piled with the bodies of the
slain who had taken refuge there and over them he rode."

We looked up. There was a mark very like a human hand
far above our heads — the hoof and the sword print too were
there.

This great church is most fitly described in the words of
those who first told of it to the world as a Christian Church,
before it was shorn of so much of its glory.

"It is distinguished," says Procopius, "by indescribable
beauty, excelling both in its size and in the harmony of its
measures, having no part excessive and none deficient ; being
much more magnificent than ordinary buildings and much more
elegant than those which are not of so just a proportion. The
church is singularly full of light and sunshine ; you would de-
clare that the place is not lighted by the sun from without,
but that the rays are produced within itself, such an abundance
of light is poured into this church. . . . Who could tell of
the beauty of the columns and marbles with which the church
is adorned ? One would think that one had come upon a mead-
ow full of flowers in bloom ! Who would not admire the pur-
ple tints of some and the green of others, the glowing red and
the glittering white, and those too which nature, painter-like,
has marked with the strongest contrasts of color ? Whoever
enters there to worship perceives at once that it is not by any

1 909.] IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE 763

human strength or skill, but by favor of God that this work
has been perfected."

Still more enthusiastically speaks Paul the Silentiary. " Who-
ever," he says, " raises his eyes to the beauteous firmament of
the roof, scarce dares to gaze on its rounded expanse sprinkled
with the stars of heaven, but turns to the fresh green marble
below, seeming as it were to see flower-bordered streams of
Thessaly, and budding corn, and woods thick with trees, leap-
ing flocks, too, and twining olive trees, and the vine with green
tendrils, or the deep blue peace of summer sea, broken by the
plashing oars of spray-girt ship. . . . And the lofty crest of
every column, beneath the marble abacus, is covered with many
a supple curve of waving acanthus — a wandering chain of barbed
points all golden full of grace. . . . And above all rises
into immeasurable air the great helmet (of the dome) which,
bending over, like the radiant heavens, embraces the Church."

He describes the wonder and joy felt by all when, " by
divine counsel, while angels watched, was the temple built
again. . . . And when the first gleams of light, rosy armed,
driving away the dark shadows, leaped from arch to arch, then
all the princes and people with one voice hymned their songs
of prayer and praise; and as they came to the sacred courts,
it seemed to them as if the mighty arches were set in heaven."

So for many years it remained an image and symbol of the
"Light of the World." "Through the spaces of the great
church come rays of light, expelling clouds of care and filling
the mind with joy. The sacred light cheers all ; even the sail-
or, guiding his bark on the waves, leaving behind him the un-
friendly billows of the raging Pontus and winding a sinuous
course amidst creeks and rocks, with heart fearful at the dan-
gers of his nightly wanderings, . . . does not guide his
laden vessel by the light of Cynosure, or the Circling Bear,
but by the divine light of the Church itself. Yet not only
does it guide the merchant at night, like rays from the Pharos on
the coast of Africa, but it also shows the way to the living God."

It is indeed melancholy to see any Christian Church turned
aside from its true purpose, but the grandeur of St. Sophia in-
tensifies this feeling. By what remains we can measure in some
degree what is lost. " How doth the city sit solitary that was
full of people. Her adversaries are become her lords, her
enemies are enriched. . . . And from the daughter of Sion
all her beauty is departed."

764 IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE [Mar. ,

Next in interest and beauty among the older churches is
SS. Sergius and Bacchus, or " Little St. Sophia." As its nick-
name implies, it is very like St. Sophia in everything save size.
It is an octagon in shape and the pillars, both of the body of
the church and of the gallery, are exquisitely carved. A Greek
text has been left uneffaced on the walls.

St. Irene is notable as the only church of any importance
that was not turned into a mosque. It became instead the
armory.

The mosaic mosque of St. Mary in the Chora is especially
beautiful and interesting. For some unknown reason the Turks
did not, as with other churches, paint out the early mosaics
and frescoes which are of very great beauty. They represent
scenes from the life of the Blessed Virgin. There is also in
the roof of the narthex a head of Christ of especial beauty.

Taking the Byzantine architecture of St. Sophia for their
model, the Turks themselves have erected many remarkably fine
mosques — notably that of Achmed II., of which the court and
outside surpass any other. It stands at the side of the Hip-
podrome, in a beautiful situation, where its six minarets show
to great advantage. When Achmed built it people looked
askance on him. " How dare he,11 they asked, " build a mosque
with as many minarets as the sacred mosque of Mecca ? "

Achmed, however, was determined to retain his six minarets,
so he added a seventh to Mecca.

Inside it is beautifully ornamented with green tiles, but their
effect is somewhat spoiled by bright blue stencilling on the
pillars, added later.

The interior of the tiled mosque of Mustem Pasha is more
completely beautiful (though much smaller), being entirely
lined with tiles of a delicate blue ; and that of Suleiman, the
Magnificent, is more imposing, giving a wonderful sense of space
and strength.

Outside the mosque of Suleiman stands his own turbeh (or
tomb). A turbeh is like a small house built over the graves,
with sufficient space in it for a man to stand and pray. There
are many such in all parts of Stamboul and an entire street of
them at Eyoub,

The Turks live among their dead — they bury them on hill-
sides in regular cemeteries, it is true, but also in the city it-
self and even in their own gardens. One often comes across
a number of graves in a private garden between two houses.

1909.] IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE 765

These are not turbehs but ordinary graves like ours surmounted
by a headstone bearing a fez and an inscription (for a man) or
carved with flowers (for a woman).

Most holy of all the mosques, situated at the end of the
" Street of Tombs " — into the courtyard of which we tried in
vain to enter — is that of Eyoub. It is guarded by a soldier
at every entrance and has never been polluted by infidel feet.
Here every new Sultan comes to receive "the sabre of the
great Osman " and to be proclaimed ruler over his people.

The Sultan, is, indeed, not only ruler over his people, but
also the head of their religion. Every Friday (the Turkish
Sunday) he is obliged to worship, however ill he may be. If
he were dying he must be carried from his palace to the
mosque.

Every Friday, accordingly, the road between the palace and
the Sultan's mosque is lined with soldiers of every race —
Armenians, Albanians, Turks, officered often by Germans or
Englishmen ; the ambassadors and their friends assemble in
their kiosk (lodge) and other visitors on the adjoining balcony
to watch the procession.

First to come forth from the palace are the ladies of the
harem in closed carriages, through the windows of which a
glimpse may be caught of exquisite robes of all colors. They
are accompanied by attendants moving beside the carriages.

Next follows the royal body-guard; then the highest of-
ficers of state; and last the Sultan in his carriage. The sol-
diers greet him with a shout, while from the minaret a muez-
zin announces that the hour of prayer is come.

During prayer the horses are removed from the ladies' car-
riages sand led away, while they are left seated in them out-
side the mosque. The fact that they are not allowed at the
ordinary services has probably led to the common idea that
the Turks think women have no souls. This is not so. They
may often be seen praying ia the mosques when no service is
going on and, during Ramazan, special services are held for
them, though they are regarded as greatly inferior to men.

The Sultan came forth and drove away, the procession re-
turned to the palace — the Selamlik was over ; the soldiers
shouted again as he passed, saluting him — one might almost
say reverently, for is he not the head of their religion ? Their
shout was very awe-inspiring. They say there are notes in the

66 IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE [Mar.,

voice of an Eastern that a European hardly ever possesses.
Is not this akin to that something mysterious in their minds
that sets them apart from us, and makes it so difficult for even
those who know them best to enter into their feelings and un-
derstand their faith ?

A striking proof of the fact that women's souls are re-
garded by the Mohammedan as greatly inferior to men's is
that though religious observance and worship are strictly re-
quired of every man, they are to a woman a matter of free
choice. It is well that a woman should attend the mosques
in Ramazan and that during the rest of the year she should
pray in private, but no blame attaches to her if she does not
do so.

Another thing that strikes a western mind as very strange
in a religious nation is that there is no form of worship or
consecration attaching to marriage. A Turkish wedding con-
sists only of a grand reception, beginning at the bride's house,
in the midst of which the bridegroom joins her and they walk
together through the rooms amid the assembled guests. This
may be the first time they have met, and the bride is theoret-
ically able to break off the wedding here if she dislike his
appearance — theoretically only, for such a proceeding is un-
heard of. They then exchange the " kiss of peace " and pro-
ceed together to the bridegroom's house, where the reception
is continued. It sometimes lasts for three days — first for men
and then for women — where the contracting parties are rich
and of high station.

At the reception for women the bridegroom is the only
man present, and he only appears occasionally and proceeds
through the rooms scattering small silver coins (piastres), with
the bride at his side. She, however, is present the entire time,
and the guests throng round her wishing her joy. Besides
those invited, any Turkish woman may attend without invita-
tion; so at a grand wedding the throng is immense.

At the marriage of the daughter of the Governor of Mecca
in Stamboul, it was almost impossible to get in at all; we
should not have achieved it but for the black slaves on guard
at the doors, who, seeing our card of invitation, pulled us in
by force through the unasked crowd. Among the Turkish
ladies themselves the unbidden guests — by far the greater num-
ber— may always be distinguished by their yashmaks and fered-

1909.] IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE 767

jis or carshafs, which they keep on in the house. Their hos-
tess provides them if very poor with a wedding garment, and
entertains a hundred or more at a banquet ; for those who
come from afar she provides beds which are spread at night
in every room.

We made our way to the bride to wish her joy ; she was
seated on a divan looking very pale and tired as the crowd
of women pressed round her. She was dressed in flowing white
robes, embroidered with pearls, with pearls on her forehead
and long strings of silver tinsel hanging on either side of her
face. This is called her " silver hair " and any girl may ask
her for a piece to keep for luck. Her smile was a very sweet
one as she broke off a long string in compliance with my re-
quest.

A little " white slave " took us downstairs and gave us
coffee in cups of silver set with pearls and turquoises — sug-
gesting a pleasant sense of oriental magnificence — while she
answered all our questions. The house was thronged with
black slaves, brought over from Mecca by the bride's father,
but these were of a different standing altogether, and greatly
scorned by our little friend, who had shared the education of
the bride and her sisters (speaking both French and English
admirably) and was related to the family.

It is very rarely that Islam makes any proselytes among
the Christian races that mingle so strangely in this city, and
one would have thought that among women it was unheard of,
since their status both civil and religious is so much lower
with the Turk than with the Christian. Yet one woman I saw
at this wedding — an Armenian — who had become a Moham-
medan, and whose appearance I shall not easily forget. She
was tall and strong looking, with red hair and deep-sunk eyes
— a terrible face and a hoarse voice that made the usually
musical language hard and repulsive. Yet there was an odd
fascination, too, which made one long to know her past his-
tory and present state of mind. Either mad or very miser-
able, I thought, as she passed upstairs, " swearing horribly "
our guide told us in a tone of shocked delight, and with a
wild look in her eyes.

This wedding was altogether a strange glimpse at the lives
of Turkish women. The bride and her sisters had had French
and English governesses and had been as highly educated as

;68 IMPRESSIONS OF ISLAM IN CONSTANTINOPLE [Mar.

any European girl. To such as these there must be much in
their life that is almost unendurable. But they are, of course,
in a small minority; the vast majority seem happy enough.

It is very little realized by Europeans how much social
life they have among themselves. Though they may never
see a man, they visit one another to any extent. At all hours
of the day a Turkish lady must be ready to receive her friends;
she cannot say " not at home." If they come from any dis-
tance she must put them up for one or two nights and enter-
tain them with conversation the whole time they are with her.

On Fridays in the season they don their gayest clothes and
go in parties to the " Sweet waters of Europe " — situated on
the Golden Horn above Eyoub, or to those of Asia.

With these and like occupations time passes pleasantly for
those who know of nothing better. But for the few who are
intimate with Europeans, and know how different is woman's
life and aims in other lands, surely such methods of " killing
time" must be unavailing:

" No easier and no quicker pass
The impracticable hours.'1

The very occupations in which they might find at least a
passing interest — reading and the like — are prevented by the
uncertainty of ever being alone, the obligation to admit their
acquaintances at all hours, and to return these unseasonable
visits.

Yet a great step has been gained in the admission of for-
eign culture into their lives and the widening horizon that it
brings. Surely, in time, as this process of education extends,
it must produce a radical change in the lives of Turkish
women.

Yet " iar as is the East from the West so are their thoughts
from our thoughts," and it may be that if they compare at
all, it is for the most part with no sense of degradation but
rather of superiority.

Many words have been written, many speculations made,
on this subject. It would be rash indeed foi one to add to
their number who attempted no more than to look at the sur-
face as an interested observer, and whose fancied glimpses be-
neath can be only the merest guesswork.

G. K. CHESTERTON.

BY W. E. CAMPBELL.
I.— INQUISITOR AND DEMOCRAT.

HE fact that modern journalism stands for so much
that we Catholics regard as worthless, and even
dangerous to faith and morals, is not to be won-
dered at when we consider that it is so largely
inspired and controlled by the powers of material-
ism and negation, standing where they ought not. But that a
man should come out of Fleet Street to challenge these mod-
ern fashions, of thought in the name of all that is traditional
and Catholic is, indeed, something new and strange. Such a
man is Gilbert Keith Chesterton. He is in no strict sense
scholar, specialist, novelist, or poet. He speaks in no technical
dialect of the kind so often wearisome to flesh and spirit. And
yet, in spite of this, or perhaps because of it, he has become a
sign in the way, a herald of change in the thoughts and con-
victions of men. He may be described as a very genial Grand
Inquisitor — one who conducts his inquisitions with so much
charity, simplicity, and humor that he is incapable of harming
the soul of a little child. If we turn to that fantastic book of
his, The Man Who Was Thursday, we shall see the author as
he sees himself and the work that he has to do :

"I will tell you," said the policeman slowly. "This is
the situation : The head of one of our departments, one of the
most celebrated detectives in Europe, has long been of opin-
ion that a purely intellectual conspiracy would soon threaten
the existence of civilization. He is certain that the scientific
and artistic worlds are silently bound in a crusade against
the Family and the State. He has, therefore, formed a spe-
cial corps of policemen who are also philosophers.- It is their
business to watch the beginnings of this conspiracy, not
merely in the criminal but in the controversial sense. I am
a democrat myself, and I am fully aware of the value of the
ordinary man in matters of ordinary valor or virtue. But it
would obviously be undesirable to employ the common police-
man in an investigation which is also a heresy hunt. . . .
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 49

770 . G. K. CHESTERTON [Mar.,

"I tell you I am sick of my trade when I see how per-
petually it means merely war upon the ignorant. But this
new movement of ours is a very different affair. We deny
the snobbish English assumption that the uneducated are the
dangerous criminals. We remember the Roman Emperors.
We remember the great*poisoning princes of the Renaissance.
We say the dangerous criminal is the lawless modern philos-
opher. Compared to him burglars and bigamists are essen-
tially moral men ; my heart goes out to them. They accept
the essential ideal of man ; they may seek it wrongly.
Thieves respect property. They merely wish the property to
become their property that they may more perfectly 'respect
it. But philosophers dislike property as property ; they wish
to destroy the very idea of personal possession. Bigamists
respect marriage, or they would not go through the highly
ceremonial and even ritualistic formality of bigamy. But the
philosophers despise marriage as marriage. . . .

11 The common criminal is a bad man, but he is, as it were,
a conditional good man. He says that if only a certain obsta-
cle be removed — say a wealthy uncle — he is prepared to ac-
cept the universe, and to praise God. He is a reformer, but
not an anarchist. He wishes to cleanse the edifice, but not
to destroy it. But the evil philosopher is not trying to alter
things, but to annihilate them. Yes, the modern world has
retained all those parts of police work which are really op-
pressive and ignominious, the harrying of the poor, the spy-
ing upon the unfortunate. It has given up its more dignified
work, the punishment of powerful traitors in the State and
powerful heresiarchs in the Church. The moderns say we
must not punish heretics. My only doubt is whether we have
the right to punish anybody else.

Having defined the scope of our author's work, we may now
go on to examine briefly the negative and controversial side of
it. After that we shall be in a position to learn something
of his affirmative and constructive philosophy.

Just now we are all by way of being impartial men; but
this is a great mistake. An impartial man is a man without
faith, and a faithless man is a failure. Of such Lord Rosebery
is the standing symbol. He has so many theories that he
doesn't know what to do; and he doesn't know what to do
because he doesn't believe in one of them. It is not sufficient
to have theories. We must discuss, select, believe, and prac-
tise. Fides, quia fit quod dicitur, as St. Augustine puts it. We

1909.] G. K. CHESTERTON 771

have no cherished principles of behavior towards ideas. We en-
tertain them without moral discrimination and never stop to ask
their practical outcome until it is too late. We condemn the
cruelty of fifteenth-century inquisitors who cross-examined and
tortured a man because he preached immoral ideas. But are
we not as cruel as they ? At any rate we are much less log-
ical and much more ridiculous. To take one case. Oscar Wilde
was feted and flattered because he preached an immoral atti-
tude, and then was cruelly broken because he carried his teach-
ing into practice a little too openly for the convenience of his
flatterers. It is far more practical to begin at the beginning
and to discuss theories before we accept them. " I see that
the men who killed each other about the orthodoxy of the
Homoousion were far more sensible than the people who are
quarreling about the Education Act. For the Christian dog-
matists were trying to establish a reign of holiness, and trying
to get defined, first of all, what was really holy. But our mod-
ern educationists are attempting to bring about a religious lib-
erty without attempting to settle what is religion and what is
liberty. If the old priests forced a statement upon mankind,
at least they previously took the trouble to make it lucid. It
has been left for the modern mobs of Anglicans and Noncon-
formists to persecute for a doctrine without even stating it."
This point is driven home by a delightfully apposite parable :

Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about,
let us say, a lamp-post, which many influential people desire
to pull down. A monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages,
is approached upon the matter and begins to say in the arid
manner of the Schoolmen : " Let us first of all, my brethren,
consider the value of Light. If Light be in itself good.
. . ." At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked
down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the
lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congrat.
ulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as
things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people
have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the
electric light ; some because they wanted old iron ; some
because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil.
Some thought it was not enough of a lamp-post ; some too
much ; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal
machinery ; some because they wanted to smash something.
And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he

772 G. K. CHESTERTON [Mar.,

strikes. So gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or
the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk
was right after all, and that all depends on what is the phi-
losophy of light. Only what we might have discussed under
the gas-lamp, we must now discuss in the dark.*

There is no lack of theories in modern life, but they all
suffer from one capital defect — they are negative. They do not
nourish the life of the spirit. They are but a rediscovery of
the smaller matters of human imperfection and lead to nothing
better than themselves. They are full of warning, but they
have no intrinsic power of communicating hope. They give
us a withering knowledge of evil ; but there is no saving health
in them and no saving humor. They are characterized by the
absence of healthy idealism — of those vivid pictures of purity
and spiritual triumph which alone seem able to hearten the
human will to the high conquests of the spiritual life. In a
word, they are not mystical, they are merely scientific. They are
without that element which only Christianity could have given
them. " A young man may keep himself from vice by con-
tinually thinking of disease. He may keep himself from it by
continually thinking of the Virgin Mary. There may be a ques-
tion about which method is more reasonable, or even which is
more efficient. But surely there can be no question about which
is more wholesome."

It is of importance to the right understanding of our au-
thor to keep this distinction in mind, for it is a very funda-
mental one with him. We shall find, as we follow him through
his criticisms of contemporary thinkers, that he is always com-
ing back to it in some form or other. He has much to say in
praise of Mr. H. G. Wells, the one purely modern man who
does carry into our world the clear personal simplicity of the
old world of science. But as yet, alas ! he does not believe in
Original Sin. The permanent possibility of selfishness arises
from the mere fact of having a self, and not from the accidents
of education or ill-treatment. The weakness of all Utopias
is that they take the greatest difficulty of man (to wit, Original
Sin) and assume it to be overcome, and then give an elaborate
account of overcoming the smaller ones. "We do not plank
down a Utopia, because a Utopia assumes that all evils come
from outside the citizen and none from inside him. But we

* \Heretics, p. 23.

1909.] G. K. CHESTERTON 773

do plank down these much more practical statements: (i) that
a man will not be humanly happy unless he owns something
in the sense that he can play the fool with it; (2) that this
can only be achieved by setting steadily to work to distribute
property, not to concentrate it ; (3) that history shows that prop-
erty can be so distributed, while history has no record of
successful Collectivism outside monasteries.'**

Or take again the much talked of "New Theology." It
has no regard for the transcendent aspect of Deity, but by neg-
lecting that what do we get but introspection, self- isolation,
quietism, social indifference, and no more ? By insisting upon
it we get wonder, curiosity, moral and political adventure,
righteous indignation — Christendom. He also criticizes those
undenominational religions which profess to include what is
beautiful in all religions and appear to have collected all that
is dull. All real religion is popular, military, public, and sen-
sational. Ritual is much older than Reasoning. There is an
eternal and boisterous gaiety about the truly religious. Wine
in its holiest uses is not a medicine but a sacrament. "Drink,
for the trumpets are blowing, and this is the stirrup cup. . . ."

Finally, he examines the contention of Mr. Lowes Dickinson
that pagan virtue was the joyous thing, while the virtues that
are distinctively Christian have saddened the heart of man and
impoverished the natural richness of his life.

The real difference between the pagan or natural virtues,
and those three which the Church of Rome calls the virtues
of grace, is the real difference between Paganism and Chris-
tianity. Christianity has adopted the natural virtues of Pa-
ganism and has added to them the three mystical virtues of
faith, hope, and charity. The first evident fact, I say, is
this, that the pagan virtues, such as justice and temperance,
are the sad virtues, and that the mystical virtues of faith,
hope, and charity are the gay and exuberant virtues. And
the second evident fact, which is even more evident, is that
the pagan virtues are the reasonable virtues, and that the
Christian virtues of faith, hope, and charity are in their es-
sence as unreasonable as can be. As the word "unreason-
able" is open to misunderstanding, the matter may be more
accurately put by saying that each of these Christian or mys-
tical virtues involves a paradox in its own nature, and that
this is not true in any of the typically pagan or rationalist

* New Age, February 29, 1908.

G. K- CHESTERTON [Mar.,

virtues. Justice consists in finding out a certain thing due
to a certain man and giving it to him. Temperance consists
in finding out the proper limit of a particular indulgence and
adhering to that. But charity means pardoning what is un-
pardonable, or it is no virtue at all. Hope means hoping
when things are hopeless, or it is no virtue at all. And faith
means believing the incredible, or it is no virtue at all. . . .
Everybody mockingly repeats the famous childish definition
that faith is " the power of believing that which we know to
be untrue." Yet faith is not one more atom more paradoxi-
cal than hope or charity. Charity to the deserving poor is
not charity but justice. It is the undeserving who re-
quire it, and the ideal either does not exist at all, or exists
wholly for them. It is true that there is a state of hope
which belongs to bright prospects and the morning ; but that
is not the virtue of hope. The virtue of hope exists only in
earthquake and eclipse. For practical purposes it is at the
hopeless moment that we require the hopeful man, and the
virtue does not exist at all or begins to exist at that moment.*

The main accusation, then, which Mr. Chesterton brings
against modern thinkers is that they rely almost entirely upon
mere analytic reasoning. He does not say that this analytic
reasoning is an unlawful process of thought, but that its use
and value are overestimated at this present time. For the high-
est purposes of human activity it is an inadequate instrument.
It not only misses the secret of life, but it also destroys it.
It can only be exercised to establish an entirely mechanical and
depersonalized conception of life. It is unwholesome because
it is inhuman.

At a time when to confess to a conviction about any high
matter is considered almost ill-bred, the rhetorical art which is
mainly concerned with producing conviction is held in disrepute.
Rhetoric, it is said, is all very well for the popular fore- court
of the Temple of Science, but thus far and no further should
it go. Reason, it is contended, in order to be right, should be
divorced from emotion. You might just as well say that Amer-
ica, in order to be right, should be divorced from Niagara.
When America understands the ultimate uses of Niagara the
material world will be at her feet. And so, in a higher order,
is it with emotion. But, at present, we do not understand
emotion ; we do not respect it enough to try to understand it ;
we merely despise it, leaving it, as we say, to the crowd.

* See Heretics, p. 157.

1909.] G. K. CHESTERTON 775

If, however, we can tear ourselves from the local and tem-
poral fallacies that so easily beset us we shall find that emo-
tion has ever played a more dignified part in the highest life
of the world. The great things of art and conduct owe their
conception, continuance, and completion to the right and order-
ly union of reason with emotion. Reason acting alone, reason
in the void, is merely analytic, sceptical, disintegrating, imper-
sonal. But reason wedded to emotion begets all that is syn-
thetic, religious, life-enhancing, executive, personal.

It is beside the question to point out that emotion is a dan-
gerous thing. Of course it is, and so is reason. Emotion is a
living force of terrific energy, a very torrent of Niagara, given
in human nature. It is there and we can never get rid of it.
It is there to be put to splendid uses. It is there to be con-
verted into heat and light and motive power. But if we de-
spise it, refuse it access to the higher reaches of our life, it
will burst all meaner boundaries and become a dreadful havoc-
worker and destroyer of all that separates us from the beast.
This was thoroughly understood by the old worshippers of
Pan, and that the danger has not passed, our modern word
panic testifies. There is nothing more dreadful than emotion
yoked to lust and fear. Corruptio optimi pessiwa.

No philosophy save that of the Church has granted suffi-
cient recognition to the necessary and living relation between
reason and emotion; reason (which is so masculine) and emo-
tion (which is so womanly) are too often held to have their
proper perfection in a separated life. What God hath joined
together let no man [break asunder. Pure reason (which, by
the way, is pure act) has indeed a unique perfection — it is di-
vine; but it cannot be attained to by man, nor even so much
as gazed upon during life. No man can see God and live.
The face of man is strangely beautiful in death, as if love had
at last had its perfect way in the soul so lately fled ; and it
wears too, for the first time, the graven traces of pure thought ;
for only at death, which is the threshold of life, is the face of
man turned to the face of God.

This, then, is the main charge brought by Mr. Chesterton
against those in the high places of science, trade, and finance
— that they have separated reason from emotion, things whose
fruitful union is necessary alike for the beginning, continuance,
and completeness of human life.

776 G. K. CHESTERTON [Mar.,

And now we come to the more positive side of Mr. Chester-
ton. What does he believe in ? He believes in democracy and
in the Catholic tradition. I will leave Catholic tradition for
the present and deal first with the term democracy. What
meaning and significance has it for him ?

There are, very roughly speaking, two kinds of people. The
people who feel at home in the ordinary surroundings of their
daily life and work, and the people who do not. At first
thought it would seem likely that those would feel most at
home who had a superfluity of material comfort, and that those
who lacked this would be full of an uneasy discontent, not at
all satisfied with that place in life in which it had pleased God
to put them. But looking about us, we find that this sup-
position is contradicted by obvious fact. We notice that those
who gain a moderate superfluity at once get away from the
sight and sound of their workshops and become in the first
case siiburban, and then, as their superfluity accumulates, cos-
mopolitan, or shall we say imperialistic ? They will tell you that
they flee from the realities of their very successful livelihood
because they find them so insufferably dull, and that the further
away from these realities they get the more interesting and
romantic life becomes. The fact is, of course, that they can-
not comfortably remain in personal contact with the people
they employ, and that not merely for what we may call snob-
bish reasons. They are obliged to wander over the face of the
earth, branded like Cain, because they will not be their brothers'
keeper. And here we touch perhaps the bad secret of Imper-
ialism (no doubt it has a good one) — the passion for material
expansion, at whatsoever human cost, the desire to retreat from
the personal injustice that must needs be done for the sake of
inordinate material accumulation. The nemesis of this passion
consists in a growing distaste of and retreat from human respon-
sibilities. For the ordinary man his family and business rela-
tionships are the main and unavoidable occasions of virtuous
habit; but when he becomes rich these personal relationships
are so easily avoided, the virtuous habit so easily lost, the
temptation to delegate the often painful but always astringent
human duties being so very strong and so very subtle. Mr.
Chesterton treats this very serious topic with delightful humor
and truth :

The common defence of the family is that amid the stress

1909.] G. K. CHESTERTON 777

and fickleness of life, it is peaceful, pleasant, and at one. But
there is another defence of the family and to me evident ; this
defence is that the family is not peaceful and not pleasant and
not at one. The family is a good institution because it is un-
congenial. It is wholesome precisely because it is uncongen-
ial. It is exactly because our brother George is not interested
in the Trocadero Restaurant, that the family has some of the
bracing qualities of a commonwealth. It is exactly because
our uncle Henry does not approve of the theatrical ambitions
of our sister Sarah that the family is like humanity. The
man who lives in a small community lives in a large world.
He knows more of the fierce varieties and uncompromising
divergencies of men. There is nothing really narrow about
the clan, the thing which is really narrow is the clique. So-
ciability, like all good things, is full of discomforts, dangers,
and renunciations. When London was smaller, and the parts
of London more self-contained and parochial, the club was
what it is in villages, a place where a man could be sociable.
Now the club is valued as a place where a man can be un-
sociable. The more the enlargement and elaboration of our
civilization goes on the more the club ceases to be a place
where a man can have a noisy argument, and becomes more
and more a place where a man can have what is somewhat
fantastically called a quiet chop. Its aim is to make a man
comfortable, and to make a man comfortable is to make him
the opposite of sociable. The club tends to produce the most
degraded of all combinations — the luxurious anchorite, the
man who combines the self-indulgence of Lucullus with the
insane loneliness of St. Simeon Stylites.

If we were to-morrow morning snowed up in the street in
which we live, we should step suddenly into a much larger
and much wilder world than we have ever known. And it is
the whole effort of the typically modern person to escape from
the street in which he lives. First he invents modern hygiene
and goes to Margate. Then he invents modern culture and
goes to Florence. Then he invents modern imperialism and
goes to Timbuctoo. And in all this he is still essentially
fleeing from the street in which he was born ; and of this
flight he is always ready with his own explanation. He says
he is fleeing from his street because it is dull ; he is lying.
He is really fleeing from his street because it is a great deal
too exciting. It is exciting because it is exacting; it is ex-
acting because it is alive. Of course, this shrinking from the
brutal vivacity and brutal variety of men is a perfectly rea-

778 G. K. CHESTERTON [Mar.,

sonable and excusable thing so long as it does not pretend to
any point of superiority. It is when it calls itself aristocracy
or sestheticism or a superiority to the bourgeoisie that its in-
herent weakness has in justice to be pointed out. . . .
Every man has hated mankind when he is less than a man.
Every man has had humanity in his eyes like a blinding fog,
humanity in his nostrils like a suffocating smell. But when
Nietzsche has the incredible lack of humor and imagination
to ask us to believe that his aristocracy is an aristocracy of
strong muscles or an aristocracy of strong wills, it is neces-
sary to point out the truth. It is an aristocracy of weak
nerves.*

We find, then, at the opposite poles of our civilization two
groups of men — the men who renounce human responsibilities
and the men from whom these responsibilities are taken away.
And between these two groups of spiritually misemployed lies
that great and wholesome democracy in which Mr. Chester-
ton so heartily believes; and which recapitulates human nature
in its widest and healthiest and most essential activities, f

The root of democracy is, of course, a religious one. "All
men are equal as all pennies are equal because they bear the
image of the King. All men are therefore intensely and pain-
fully valuable and from this fact spring two others of equal im-
portance, The first is that all men are tragic ; the second is
that all men are comic. This is evident in literature, where
Tragedy becomes a profound sense of human dignity and
Comedy a delighted sense of human variety. The first supports
equality by saying that all men are equally sublime. The second
supports equality by saying that all men are equally interesting.
These are the two things in which all men are manifestly and un-
mistakably equal. They are not equally clever or equally mus-
cular or equally fat, as the sages of modern reaction (with
piercing insight) perceive." Scott and Dickens are taken as
respectively representing and emphasizing these two aspects of
human equality.

In the idea of the dignity of all men, there is no democrat
so great as Scott. This fact, which is the moral and endur-
ing magnificence of Scott, has been astonishingly overlooked.
His rich and dramatic effects are gained in almost every case
by some grotesque or beggarly figure rising into human pride
and rhetoric. The common man in the sense of the paltry

* Heretics, p. 179. f See The Napoleon of Netting Hill, pp. 298-300.

1909.] G. K. CHESTERTON 779

man, becomes the common man in the sense of the universal
man. He declares his humanity. For the meanest of all the
modernities has been the notion that the heroic is the oddity
or variation, and that the things that unite us are merely flat
or foul. The common things are terrible and startling, death,
for instance, and first love : the things that are common are
the things that are not "commonplace. Into such high and
central passions the comic Scott character will suddenly rise.
Remember the firm and almost stately answer of the prepos-
terous Nichol Jarvie when Helen Macgregor seeks to brow-
beat him into condoning lawlessness and breaking his bour-
geois decency. Think of .the proud appeal of the old beggar
in the Antiquary when he rebukes the duellists. . . .
" Can you find no way? " asked Sir Arthur Wardour of the
beggar when they are cut off by the tide. "I'll give you a
farm. . . . I'll make you rich." . . . "Our riches
will soon be equal," says the beggar, and looks out across the
advancing sea. All this popular sympathy of his rests on the
graver basis, on the dark dignity of man. . . . Scott was
fond of describing kings in disguise. But all his characters
are kings in disguise. He was, with all his errors, profound-
ly possessed with "the old religious conception, the only pos-
sible democratic basis, the idea that man himself is a king in
disguise.

Dickens had little or none ol this sense of the concealed sub-
limity of every separate man. Dickens' sense of democracy
was entirely of the other kind. It rested on the sense that
all men were wildy interesting and wildly varied. When a
Dickens character becomes excited he becomes more and
more himself. He does not, like the Scott beggar, turn more
and more into a man. As he rises he grows more and more
into a gargoyle or grotesque. He does not, like the fine
speaker in Scott, grow more passionate, more universal as he
grows more intense. The thing can only be illustrated by a
special case. Dickens did more than once, of course, make
one of his quaint or humble characters assert himself in a
serious crisis or defy the powerful. There is, for instance,
the quite admirable scene in which Susan Nipper faces and
rebukes Mr. Dombey. But it is still true that Susan Nipper
remains a purely comic character throughout her speech, and
even grows more comic as she goes on. She is more serious
than usual in her meaning, but not more serious in her style.
Whenever Dickens made comic characters talk sentiment
comically, as in the instance of Susan, it was a success, but

78o G. K. CHESTERTON [Mar.,

an avowedly extravagant success. Whenever lie made comic
characters talk sentiment seriously it was an extravagant
failure. Humor was his medium ; his only way of approach-
ing emotion.*

No one can deny that ordinary folk despise the partiality
and dullness of mere intellectualism, and have as hard things
to say about it as the Church herself. They care little for
instruction, but they love what they call "character." They
do not amuse each other with epigrams, but they do amuse
each other with themselves ; they are always and everywhere
persona). When a man in a public house speaks of another
as a " character " you may be sure he will rejoice you with
his company and refresh you with his wisdom. Such men
have no desire to rule the world or to buy it — they are much
too simple. There is a kingdom of romantic entertainrrient at
their very doors, and since they are without a trace of snob-
bishness their eyes are open to its glorious possibilities. Where
do nearly all the great ones of literature come from ? The
Mulvaneys, the Pycrofts, the gorgeous rustics of Mr. Hardy,
the thousand characters of Dickens ? They are not creations
from the void. They are attempted recollections of actual
people encountered in the humblest walks of life; and they
are in reality understated rather than overdrawn.

It is with a gloomy sense of futility that we often watch
the well-intentioned but one-sided efforts of intellectual and
emotional specialists on behalf of the poor. Such men may
call themselves democratic, but the most obvious thing about
them is that they do not believe in the poor, they do not under-
stand them, they do not love them.f They are totally blind to
the light and shadow of humble life; to them the virtues of
the poor seem as gross as their vices, and their joys as dull
as their sorrows. To such the very true and real ceremonial
of the poor is dull, formal, superstitious, and degrading — they
cannot appreciate their rich and varied emotional life. Who
but the poor can intensely enjoy the mysteries of giving and
taking; with them festivity is almost a sacrament, Only they
seem able continually to create and enjoy, in spite of the
dullness of their surroundings, occasions of mirth and good-

* Charles Dickens, p. 245.

t cf. Twelve Types, pp. 17, 26, Charles Dickens, p. 274 seq. The Defendant, Introd. xii. and
passim.

1909.] G. K. CHESTERTON 781

will, where forgotten memories are revived, and the solemn
events and seasons of many-sided human nature are celebrated
with all the fervor and publicity of an age of faith. They
understand far better than their would-be helpers that the
things that reform life are mainly the things of the heart. They
have no doubt that a man " with his heart in the right place "
will always get good out of life, and will freely spend it among
his fellows.

There is no dearth of quality in life and it is to be sought,
for the most part, in humble and private places. "It is in
common life that we find the great characters. They are too
great to get into the material world. It is in our own daily
life that we are to look for the portents and the prodigies.
This is the truth, not merely of the fixed figures of our life:
the wife, the husband, the fool that fills the sky. It is true
of the whole stream and substance of our daily experience.
. . . Compared with this life, all public life, all fame, all
wisdom, is by its nature cramped and cold and small. . . .
It is when we pass our own private gate, and open our own
secret door, that we step (for good or evil) into the land of
giants."

One has no wish to deprecate the work of the many who
have given their lives to political and social reform, but why
is their success so moderate?

I have already pointed out that democracy is sandwiched,
as it were, between two groups of men: (i) the men who have
renounced human responsibilities ; (2) the men from whom
these responsibilities are taken away. It is also obvious that
the second is mainly created, sustained, and increased by the
first. These two groups, then, which for convenience we may
call the over-world and the underworld, are a perpetual menace
to the well-being of any state. The difficulty is, of course,
an economic one, but not mainly so.

Why do the men of the overworld renounce their human
responsibilities? (i) Because the human responsibilities of the
great capitalist are too great to be realized by one man; and
so far forth it would appear that some limit to the accumula-
tion of private riches might be prescribed by the state with-
out touching the principle of property and individual pos-
session. (2) Because the temptation to retreat from what may
be called the center of realization— the place where their em-

G. K. CHESTERTON [Mar.

ployees work and live — is so strong. (3) Because the men of
the overworld have, for the most part, renounced their private
allegiance to the one power that would help them to realize
their human responsibilities and would also help them to re-
sist their strong temptation to flee from the center of reali-
zation.

" Only the Christian Church can offer any real objection
to a complete confidence in the rich. For she has maintained
from the beginning that the danger was not (mainly) in man's
environment, but in man. Further she has maintained that if
we come to talk of a dangerous environment, the most danger-
ous environment of all is a commodious environment. Rich
men are not very likely to be morally trustworthy. The whole
case for Christianity is that a man who is dependent upon the
luxuries of life is a corrupt man, spiritually corrupt, politically
corrupt, financially corrupt."

We can never hope that the overworld will reform itself,
by itself. Nor can we expect the underworld to be reformed
by the overworld — that is to say by a state government bought
and controlled, as at present, by the overworld. Where, then,
shall we look ? To democracy ? Yes ; to democracy at least
as the materia prima.

Democracy stands for the great principle that the essential
things in men are the things that they hold in common. "Fall-
ing in love is more poetical than dropping into poetry. The
democratic contention is that government (helping to rule the
tribe) is a thing like falling in love and not a thing like dropping
into poetry — it is one of the things that we want a man to do
for himself even if he does it badly. Democracy classes govern-
ment as one of the universal human functions." To democ-
racy, then, we must hopefully look, and what is more to a
democracy — the wholesome- hearted of every state — stimulated,
idealized, individualized by the Church.

What, then, is to be said for the Church ? This Church
which professes to actuate the human heart to such an extent
as to make it capable of really human responsibilities ? In our
next and concluding paper we hope to give Mr. Chesterton's an-
swer to this important question.

IS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE?

BY CORNELIUS CLIFFORD.

WHETHER time's revenges are, on the whole, a part
ot that special providence by which God fulfills
Himself in history, is a question that religious
men will be slow to answer. Revenges there are
in plenty, however; and whoso runs with the
world's honest chroniclers may read them, if he will. If some
of them are very fragmentary and laughable, other some are
correspondingly relentless, not to say ironic, in the fullness of
their readjustments ; and the wise are not slow to note their
chastening lesson. Who would have predicted, scarcely more
than half a century ago, that English-speaking Catholicism would
one day be suffered, in the pale world of ideas, at least, to
come back quietly into some little of its own? Yet this long-
wished-for consummation is beginning to be realized at last in
our own time. It is not so many decades, as the student reck-
ons time, since Cardinal Wiseman, whose judgment and learn-
ing alike certainly gave him the right to speak, was cheaply
criticized jfor having ventured to call Dr. Lingard "the only
impartial historian " that England had thus far produced. More
than fifty years have elapsed since Newman succeeded in win-
ning a hearing, but not a following, for his own bold analysis
of the smug and only too well established tradition prevalent
among non-tractarian Protestants on all the more fundamental
facts of the Reformation period.

The Lectures on the Present Position of Catholics in England
assuredly augured well; but not even they could be described
as prophetic of the dawn which has since happily broken, see-
ing that Charles Kingsley could find so large and — apparently
— so cultivated a public for the poor paste-board stuff and tin-
dagger elements of Westward- Ho in 1855, and Charles Reade
an almost wider circle of equally intelligent admirers for the
not less wretched material of The Cloister and the Hearth, which
saw the light some six years later in 1861. It was in the deso-
late interval, in 1856, we believe, that the first two volumes of

784 ft IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? [Mar.,

Froude's History appeared; and it is scarcely a paradox to
maintain that it is in the reception accorded to this curious
work that the first faint beginnings of a change in English sen-
timent on these matters may be discerned. Considered as mere
writing, and judged from the serene point of view of the stylist,
the success of the volumes was immediate and unchallengeable.
Seldom, if ever before — so thought a generation which had lis-
tened to Newman at St. Mary's, which was beginning to under-
stand Carlyle, and go demented over Macaulay — had English
ears drunk in such obvious, yet virile, music, wedded to such
pure, such picturesque, such idiomatic prose. The great Brit-
ish public behaved as it invariably does in such junctures. It
folded the hapless author without further question to its heart.
Fortunately for the cause of historic truth, the critics, such as
they were in a purblind time, took up a more cautious posi-
tion. With the exception of a friendly reviewer in the Times,
nearly all of them were unfavorable to this magnificently anti-
Catholic account of the English Reformation. Henry Reeves
had just taken over the editorship of The Edinburgh, and the
treatment which the History received at the hands of that staid,
but scholarly, quarterly, under its new management, was savage
in the extreme. From this time forth it became the accepted
thing in high academic circles to discredit Froude as an inter-
preter of the past.

Meanwhile more scientific, more exacting, perhaps profound-
er views of the historian's vocation had been gradually forming
in the English universities, and in no more significant per-
sonality did these ideas find sane embodiment than in that son
of Oxford to whose industry and scholarship we owe the re-
markable volumes known as The History of the Papacy During
the Period of the Reformation. Dixie Professor of Ecclesiastical
History at Cambridge, and afterwards Bishop, in turn, of Peter-
borough and of London, Mandell Creighton was scarcely the
man, it might have been thought, to whom the average Ameri-
can Catholic student, or the average English Catholic student,
for that matter, of the generation just passed, could be expected
to turn to for an essentially fair-minded presentation of so con-
tentious a theme. Yet he produced a work in which it could
be said that he had made out a better case for the Papacy than
a Catholic writer like Dr. Ludwig Pastor has done. Breadth,
carefulness, balance, insight, a scrupulously scientific regard for

1 909-]

IS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE ?

785

solid facts of which he nearly always shows himself the master,
an impartiality amounting, it might almost seem, to ethical color-
lessness, these are but some of the more obvious qualities that
will strike the reader of a work which is doubly noteworthy as
being the product at once of the finer Anglican spirit and of
the newer economics of research. The story of the Greek eccle-
siastic whose imperfect knowledge of English enabled him to
recall but two words out of Creighton's many sermons and ad-
dresses, to wit, character and sympathy, is symbolic of much
that went to make up both the historian and the man. The
amount of gossip let loose in the half year following upon his
death in 1901 revealed him as in many ways an extraordinary
personality, quite as much of an enigma to the men of his own
communion as he was to many among ourselves ; but he was
not an anomaly; nor was he insincere. Full of that rare form
of semi-ironic courage which dares to make out a case for mis-
represented church authority, even when writing for an English-
speaking public somewhat ridiculously debauched by heady
metaphysics, and a still headier sentimentality on the subject of
religious revolt, Protestant Bishop though he was, he succeeded
in producing a rounded story which scholars of every shade of
ecclesiastical view will long regard as unassailable in temper,
whatever they may be constrained ultimately, by the discovery
of fresh material, to think about its disturbing array of facts.
He was also one of those — a growing class in our day — whose
reading of Reformation evidence inclines them to the view that
there need never have been a change of doctrine; seeing that
what was most needed by ecclesiastical Europe at the dawn of
the sixteenth century was a change of heart. Were the ideas
of Pole, of Caraffa, of Sadoleto, of St. Ignatius of Loyola to be
justified at last?

It is sometimes said that what the universities are thinking
about to-day, the public will be prating about to-morrow. The
apothegm may be accepted as roughly true, if by to-morrow is
meant the popular movement of five and twenty years hence.
Many things have happened in learned as well as in workaday
England since Froude pleased the vulgar and ruffled the tem-
pers of Irish and academic folk by his outrageous treatment of
More and Fisher and Mary Stuart, and other champions of the
elder Faith. Much, too, has changed since Creighton began to

VOL. LXXXVfll. — 50

786 J Is IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE ? [Mar.,

write about the Popes. An entirely new school of history has
grown up, which, wisely or unwisely, invokes one compelling
name, and loves to associate its triumphs with one compelling
university center. We refer, of course, to that Cambridge School
of History which looks upon the late Lord Acton as its chief,
if not its only begetter, and the English Historical Review as
its most accredited mouthpiece. Lord Acton, as all the world
knows now, lived and died a child of the Roman Church. If
some of the more derivative obediences of his creed seemed to
sit so lightly upon his conscience as to scandalize the simpler-
minded and more logical among his brethren, much was after-
wards forgiven him for his services to the cause of scholarship
and for the unaffected piety of his riper years. It could not
be said of him at the time of his death, at any rate, as had been
said, too rancorously, indeed, a score of years before, by a re-
ligious weekly journal with some repute for orthodoxy as well
as tone, that he had forfeited his right t© be considered a repre-
sentative Roman Catholic in the England of bis time. His fault
lay rather on the temperamental than on the intellectual side
of his nature; for this last was essentially sound and true. His
scanty writings would seem to show that he was deficient in
imagination and lacked the gift of sympathy so necessary to an
historian in whom the sense of moral values was abnormally
acute. He was, perhaps, not altogether the miracle of omnis-
cience that his disciples averred ; but, like his friend Mr. Glad-
stone, he had an extraordinary memory, and was probably the
most widely read Englishman of his period. What The Times
said of him on the occasion of his inaugural address as Regius
Professor of Modern History at Cambridge possibly affords a
clue both to the appeal he so successfully made to the scholars
of this generation and to his failure to commend himself en-
tirely to the more uncompromising apologists of his own creed.
1 There are many Protestant historians," a leader in that great
journal declared on the morning after the lecture was delivered,
" who would take sides far more ardently with the Church of
Rome.*' He was so scrupulous, it would seem, in divesting
himself of all theological bias, that he became, in the event,
somewhat unfair to those who fought and intrigued too insist-
ently for the faith which he himself prized above life. The
ideal he holds up, however, is one that no sane Catholic is
likely to quarrel with in the years to come, even if that larger

1909.] /S IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? 787

insight into human nature which religious sanity invariably im-
parts, makes most of us pessimistic about ever seeing it real-
ized before the Millenium. " If men were truly sincere," he
says, " and delivered judgment by no canons but those of evi-
dent morality, then Julian would be described in the same terms
by Christian and Pagan , Luther by Catholic and Protestant ',
Washington by Whig and Tory, Napoleon by patriotic Frenchman
and patriotic German." This is excellent, indeed, but it is not
all; for this austere conception of impartiality, which is an at-
titude of mind at best, needs to be supplemented by those
more technical rules of critical research, of comparative evi-
dence, and of method which are " only the reduplication of
common sense." Tried by these tests writers like Froude and
Prescott and Motley are, we suppose, ruled out of court, while
such favorites of yesterday as John Richard Green are rendered
as hopelessly out of date as though they had written in the too
confident middle of the nineteenth century.

Has any practical result come of this changed orientation in
the schools of historic research ? One might point to the remark-
able series known as The Cambridge Modern History, of which
some ten bulky volumes have already appeared. As originally
planned, the conception is said to have been Lord Acton's ;
and it must be admitted that there is a certain comprehensive-
ness, not to say grandioseness, in the mere outline of the en-
cyclopaedic work quite in keeping with all that is known of
that noble scholar's genius for generalization. To be enabled
to read an elaborate series of monographs on the chief topics
of interest among the multitudinous events of the past four
hundred years is a privilege for which even the most omniscient
may well be grateful. When the idea was first announced by
the projectors of the work a good deal of interest was inevit-
ably manifested by Catholic students both in this country and
in England. Some of the most contentious problems in modern
history would come up for discussion in the course of publi-
cation, and expectation as to the kind of treatment these mat-
ters would receive naturally grew keen. To hear the ripest
scholars of our time delivering their judgments on such points
as the suppression of the English monasteries, Luther, Henry
VIII., Cranmer, Mary Tudor, Mary Stuart, Matthew Parker's
consecration, the Elizabethan settlement, Calvin, the Council of
Trent, the rise of the Jesuits, the St. Bartholomew's massacre —

788 * 75 IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE ? [Mar.,

to name but a few of the graver issues clamoring for solution
— was an opportunity not lightly to be spoken of. Can it be
said that the result has been at all commensurate with the ex-
pectations which were raised when the prospectus of so haz-
ardous an undertaking was first published a little over seven
years since ? It would be easy to find fault with a work con-
ceived on the lines of the Cambridge editors, even if it were
less open to intelligent criticism than it unfortunately happens
to be. One might ask, for instance, on what principle of im-
partiality an irritating and one-sided writer like Principal Lind-
say should be selected to discuss such matters as popular re-
ligion in Germany in the fifteenth century; or why a person of
Mr. H. C. Lea's performances should be asked from among
ourselves to tell an only too expectant public what might per-
tinently be affirmed on the decline of morality among the
clergy before the days of the Reformation ? These are grave
blunders. Omniscience, we know, is the prerogative of few edi-
tors, even among the orthodox ; but, surely, we have a right
to expect a modest sense of proportion as an indispensable
part of their mental stock in trade. Scire ubi aliquid invenire
possis, maxima pars eruditionis est, says a nai've adage once
current among Latin schoolmasters. Familiarity with the knowl-
edge-market is not precisely the same thing as the possession
of knowledge itself ; but it is an excellent substitute for the
same; and in an encyclopaedia-ridden age like our own the
editor who embarks upon an enterprise without it is lost.
Yet there are so many good things and rare things about the
Cambridge Modern History that it may possibly seem ungra-
cious, even in a Catholic, to carp at deficiencies like these.
It does sincerely aim at impartiality ; and in a multitude of
critical cases it actually achieves it. One needs constantly to
be reminded, however, that some things are of such paramount
value in Catholicism as in life, that to wear an air of judicial
neutrality when they are in the balance is to betray God's
cause to an unbelieving world. It is a fact like that which
makes a venture like the Cambridge Modern History so human,
for all its scientific affectations; and which renders the attitude
of the cultivated English Catholic in its regard so reasonably
unreasonable. But here we trench upon tenuous matters.

From the Cambridge History, with its bulky and multitudi-
nous volumes, to a work like Mr. Edward Armstrong's Charles

1909.]

IS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE f

789

the Fifth* is an obvious transition; for not only may the au-
thor be described as one of those serenely unimpassioned in-
terpreters of the past in whom Lord Acton would have de-
lighted, had he lived to pronounce judgment on the work, but
he is also one of the best and most fair-minded of the con-
tributors to the series which we have been considering. Few
characters in modern history are at once so enigmatic and so
representative as that of the august ruler whose name is as-
sociated so intimately, or with such a variety of sentiment, with
the three great forms of Protestantism that have seemed for a
space to prevail against the Catholic ideal. Charles has this
further distinction, also, that there is something of the touch-
stone in his story; for, as men judge of him, so are their se-
cret predilections revealed with respect to the controversies
that cluster about his career. In temperament and habit he
was more of a Fleming than a Spaniard. Yet he was the fa-
ther of Philip the Second and a typical Iberian in the dramatic
circumstances of his farewell to worldly glory and his demean-
or in the face of death. The genuineness of his Catholicism
was the most obvious and coherent thing noticeable in his
many-sided and contradictory nature; yet he could make war
upon the Pope and, with ample resources at his call, could en-
dure to see the great fabric of Catholic unity shattered in Eng-
land and in northern Germany without striking a whole- hearted
blow in its defence. He was drag-weighted by a demon of
hesitancy. To write adequately of such a character would seem
to demand something more than learning, something deeper
even than insight; yet the author has not only brought these
qualities to bear upon his task, but has injected into it, like-
wise, an atmosphere of fairness that must commend him to
readers of the most opposite schools. Popes and cardinals and
heresiarchs, princes and statesmen, move through his pages ;
policies and measures are discussed ; and criticism is dealt to
high and low with frank, unsparing words; yet, as was gener-
ally pointed out when the work appeared some seven years
ago, it would be hard to say what Mr. Armstrong's religious
tenets really are. To read him, after having renewed oneself
in Robertson by way of comparison, is like coming from Edin-
burgh to Rome. It is like going from the carping isolation
and distorted perspective of a provincial capital to the breadth,

* The Emperor Charles the Fifth. London : Macmillan & Co. 2 vols. 8vo. 1902.

790 Is IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE ? [Mar.,

the loftier outlook, and the sanity of the great centers of the
world.

Whether the instances we have thus far adduced will con-
vince the Catholic, who has grown weary of protest, that the
tide of foolish and anti- Roman opinion on most points of his-
tory is at last on the turn, there can hardly be room for fur-
ther hesitation, if we take into account Dr. James Gairdner's
two recently published volumes on Lollardy and the Reformation
in England, The author can scarcely be described as a pop-
ular, much less a fairly exploited, writer on any of the sub-
jects connected with the scope of this article. Nevertheless,
we shall not exceed the bounds of moderation, if we say that
there is not in the world of English-speaking scholars at this
moment an authority who can claim to speak with greater
weight on the particular theme which he has happily chosen
to discuss. Dr. Gairdner is now an old man. He has had a
familiar and first-hand acquaintance with rare and hitherto un-
considered sources of knowledge on the English Reformation
crisis practically from early manhood. He became clerk in the
Public Record Office as far back as 1846, and Assistant Keep-
er in 1859. He had edited for the Master of the Rolls the
Memorials of Henry VII. and the Letters and Papers of the
reigns of Richard III. and Henry VII. When Professor Brew-
er died, in 1879, Mr, Gairdner was selected to continue the
difficult Calendar of Henry VIII., of which the fifth volume and
all the subsequent issues as far as Part I. of volume the nine-
teenth have appeared under his editorship. It is to his indus-
try also that scholars owe the present accessibility of the Pas-
ton Letters (1872-75); and in addition to other work done for
the Camden Society, for the English Historical Review, and for
Sir Leslie Stephen's great Dictionary of National Biography, he
has written A History of the English Church in the Sixteenth
Century from the Accession of Henry VI I L to the Death of Mary*
However colorless this list of achievements may appear to that
fastidious, yet sometimes undiscriminating, public that prefers
its history costumed and staged in due histrionic form, it re-
presents an apprenticeship that .gives the author a right to be
heard at the close of his laborious days. Why has he chosen

* See Volume IV. in the series known as A History of the English Church, edited by the
(late) Very Rev. W. R. Stephens, D.D., and the Rev. William Hunt, M.A. London : Mac-
millan & Co. 1903.

1909.] /S IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE ? 791

to write over a thousand pages of carefully collated narrative
on such a subject as Lollardy and the Reformation in England ;
and what is his deliberate and final judgment of that long-
debated matter? He himself tells us, practically, in answer to
the first question, that it was because his earlier volume on
The History of the English Church was produced under edito-
rial restrictions which forbade his giving a rounded and per-
fectly satisfactory story.* Not that Dr. Gairdner suffers in any
appreciable degree from the after-tortures of the stylist; sty-
listic graces, indeed, he seems scarcely to affect; but he feels,
what students on the Catholic side have felt all along, that .a
tremendous and far-reaching event like the English Reforma-
tion cannot be explained in terms satisfactory to the scientific
mind by restricting one's investigations to the narrow and often
arbitrary limits of three or four reigns. Indeed his desire to
tell a complete story to-day furnishes a pertinent commentary
on the modern reader's appetite for that unsubstantial and
often unwholesome form of mental food known as the " histori-
cal series." Periods and events are mapped off with misleading
precision; so many years and facts to each, and so many
printed words to the telling of them, as the economy of edi-
tors or publishers may happen to enjoin. Not so can history
be kept loyal to its new ideals, or even made vital and human
and true. .

Dr. Gairdner's " present work, therefore, although partly
going over the same ground as its predecessor, has a wider
scope and a materially different aim." It looks both before
and after ; because, as the author tells us, " the Reformation,
as a study by itself, forbids us to confine our view even to
one single century. "f And so it happens, that in the course
of four books, running through two large volumes of over five
hundred pages each, we have the more important outlines of a
" general survey " which carries the reader over such debatable
ground as The Lollards (Book I.), Royal Supremacy (Book II.),
The Fall of the Monasteries (Book III.), and The Reign oj the
English Bible (Book IV.) Dr. Gairdner is now an old man in his
eighty- first year; but contact with the moldy records of the
past does not seem to have dulled the edge of his mind or
abated any of that ardor for actuality which enters so largely
into the spiritual make-up of the scholar of these times. The

* Lollardy. Volume I. Preface, p. vi. f Preface, pp. vi., yii.

792 fs IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? [Mar.,

desire to which he gives expression in the preface to his first
volume of retaining his strength long enough to "carry the
work on to the reign of Queen Elizabeth " reads like a rebuke
and a summons to younger men. Educated Catholics all over
the English-speaking world who read these remarkable volumes
will have every reason to pray that so honorable a hope may
not be frustrate; for, whatever they may think of his account
of certain debatable details in the long and diversified movement,
however they may marvel here and there at the theories of
church unity and jurisdiction involved in not a little of his
inevitable comment upon the enthralling story, they will recog-
nize him, almost from the outset, as one more link — a most
invaluable link, as being both a scholar and a would-be apol-
ogist for Anglicanism — in that chain of witnesses to the Cath-
olic sense of things that runs in unbroken strength from Abbot
Gasquet and Dom Norbert Birt, from Father John Morris, and
the Jesuit lay brother, Henry Foley, through Lingard and the
Roman controversialists of the two preceding centuries, back to
Nicholas Sanders and the misunderstood Parsons, until it ends
in those who dared to seal their testimony to the same Cath-
olic reading of things in their hearts' blood. This may sound
very much like sentiment and not science, we fear. To those
who may be tempted to think so we say : Read these thous-
and pages and see. There can be few cultivated Catholics
in our day who have views on the subject worth considering
at all, who would not be willing to have their traditional claim
judged in substance by the concessions of this book. For
what, in fine, has been the strength — we are speaking of the
living and actual, not the abstract logical strength — of the
great Protestant tradition in English-speaking lands during the
past three centuries but this, that Henry VIII. and the English
reformers, no matter what their errors in other respects may
have been, overthrew a despotic and hated superstition and
set up the Christian " law of liberty " in its stead ? Reduced
to its barest terms that is what pride in Protestantism, with its
habitual mistrust of the counter Catholic ideal, has amounted
to. Where it has ventured to become articulate, as it has in-
creasingly done under the guise of literary sentiment and the
accepted views of uncritical historians, this tradition has taken
definite and specific form, and it has practically framed its
contentions to this effect: that "Papistry" never sat easily

1909.] IS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? 793

upon a healthy Englishman's conscience, as the story of the
Lollard movement shows; that the Royal Supremacy was but
the logical expression in time of this distaste for Italianism in
religion ; that the monasteries before their suppression under
Henry VIII. were, for the most part, hotbeds of hypocrisy
and corruption; and finally that it was the English Bible that
revealed to the men of the Reformation the real strength
of the religion of the Spirit as contrasted with Roman ex-
ternalism.

The average English-speaking Protestant has surrendered
many a dear prejudice during the past fifty years; for the
business of research is going steadily on and the acid of criti-
cism is filtering down, through the medium of popular litera-
ture, even to the hardest minds; but these are the four cardinal
preambles of his creed. The point about the monasteries he
has shown at times a decent willingness to reconsider; but not
the other three. Are not the first two as old and as incon-
testable as Shakespeare himself ? * And is not the last attested
by the extraordinary development of our English tongue? Is
not reverence for and familiarity with the Authorized Version
one of the admitted secrets of our melodious speech? Surely,
all educated men recognize to-day the true source of

The golden thread that goes
To link the periods of our prose ?

Let us see what Dr. Gairdner has to say on these primary
matters. Almost on the threshold of his extraordinary investi-
gation he has this to remark :

One whom we might well take as a guide considers the
Reformation as " a great national revolution which found
expression in the resolute assertion on the part oi England of
its national independence." [Historical Lectures and Ad-
dresses', p. 150.] These are the words of the late Bishop
Creighton, who further tells us in the same page that " there
never was a time in England when the Papal authority was
not resented, and really the final act of the repudiation of
that authority followed quite naturally as the result of a long
series of similar acts which had taken place from the earliest

* cf. King Jahn III., i,, 11. 147 ss.

794 IS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE ? [Mar.,

times." I am sorry to differ from so able, conscientious, and
learned an historian, and my difficulty in contradicting him
is increased by the consciousness that in these passages
he expresses, not his own opinion merely, but one to which
Protestant writers have been generally predisposed. But can
any such statements be justified ? Was there anything like
a general dislike of the Roman jurisdiction in church matters
before Roman jurisdiction was abolished by Parliament to
please Henry VIII. ? or did the nation before that day be-
lieve that it would be more independent if the Pope's juris-
diction were replaced by that of the king ? I fail, I must say,
to see any evidence of such a feeling in the copious corres-
pondence of the twenty years preceding, I fail to find it even
in the prosecutions of heretics and the articles charged
against them — from which, though a certain number may
contain denunciations of the Pope as Antichrist, it would be
difficult to infer anything like a general desire for the aboli-
tion of his authority in England. . . .

That Rome exercised her spiritual power by the willing
obedience of Englishmen in general, and that they regarded
it as a really wholesome power, even for the control it exer-
cised over secular tyranny, is a fact which it requires no very
intimate knowledge of early English literature to bring home
to us. . . , It was only after an able and despotic king
had proved himself stronger than the spiritual power of
Rome that the people of England were divorced from their
Roman allegiance ; and there is abundant evidence that they
were divorced from it at first against their will.*

These are very frank words ; but to realize their full sig-
nificance to those who have hitherto maintained substantially
the same views on other, and perhaps hardly less critical,
grounds, one needs to measure, not so much the authority and
scholarship of the writer, which hardly need to be insisted up-
on now, as the breadth and persistency of the tradition they
so courageously assail. Dr. Gairdner finds further and c©r-
roborative evidence of the truth of these conclusions in three
out of the four very interesting chapters in which he discusses
what may be called the surviving Protestant myths on the
origin and character of English Lollardy. WyclifiVs heresy, he
holds, had all but disappeared in the country of its birth when
the loss of prestige that resulted to Papal authority from the

* Lollardy and the Reformation in England. Vol. I., pp. 3, 4, 5.

1909.] fS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE f 795

unhappy scandals of the Great Schism gave it a fresh lease of
life. But it never really gained ground in the " Church " es-
tablished under Royal Supremacy. If we would study its sub-
sequent developments we must look for them in English Puri-
tanism and in the fanatical positions of the extremer sectaries
of Germany in the sixteenth century.

Interesting as are the chapters that rehearse the melancholy
story of the suppression of the religious houses, there is little
in them that bears upon the immediate scope of this article.
Dr. Gairdner, in common with every reputable scholar who has
ever attempted to sift the evidence in the case, is convinced
that it was a measure of wholesale injustice, due, in the first
instance, to the lust, the selfishness, the caprice* of the "cas-
uistical and self-willed tyrant " who ordered it ; and in the sec-
ond place to the thoroughly unscrupulous character of the two
worthies — Doctors Legh and Leyton — whom Cromwell, as "Vice-
gerent of the king in spiritual matters," and " with a view to
his own advancement in wealth and power," f commissioned to
carry it out. How the sorry business was effected readers of
Abbot Gasquet have known now these many years. " It is
now generally agreed," says Dr. Gairdner, who quotes with
approval on the same page the learned Benedictine's remarks
on the nature of the commission entrusted to the visitors,
"that it was not an honest investigation."! If that were all
that could be claimed, decent folk might well restrain their
anger. But, as Catholics have known since Nicholas Sanders'
day, matters were much worse. Of this ugly element in the
sinister procedure, Dr. Gairdner writes:

If monks ought to have been protected by their rule and
the respect in which it had always been held from the evil
influences ot a secular tyranny, even more so should nuns
have been ; but it was only too evident that they were not.
Nuns under twenty-five years of age were turned out of their
convents, and one of the commissaries sent on this business
(no doubt Dr. Legh) addressed the ladies in an immodest way.
They rebuked his insolence, and said he was violating their
apostolic privileges ; but he replied that he himself had more
power from the King than the whole Apostolic See. The
nuns, having no other appeal, made their remonstrance to

* Vol. II., pp. 45-46. f Vol. II. p. 53. . $ Vol. II. p. 59-

796 fS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? [Mar.,

Cromwell ; but lie in reply said these things were but a pro-
logue of that which was to come.*

So the occurrence was reported at the time by Chapuy t in
England to Dr. Ortiz, the Imperial agent at Rome ; and San-
ders, who, though then only eight years old, was much better in-
formed and more accurate about many things when he wrote than
past historians have believed,\ says distinctly that I/egh, as a
means of discharging the duties imposed upon him, solicited
the nuns to breach of chastity, and that he spoke oi nothing
more readily than of sexual impurity ; for the visitation was
appointed expressly for the purpose that the King might catch
at every pretext for overthrowing the monasteries. § The
tradition of this abominable procedure, as is shown even by
the Protestant historian Fuller, was kept alive for some gen-
erations by the just indignation of Roman Catholics; and
Fuller himself reports, as a fact circumstantially warranted by
the tradition of papists, the story of one of those base attempts
in a nunnery some miles from Cambridge. It is moreover
evident that Fuller himself, with every desire to discredit the
story, was far from being convinced that it was altogether un-
true. If false, indeed, the tradition must have been very ela-
borately supported by further falsehood ; for it is stated that
one of the agents afterwards confessed to Sir William Stan-
ley, who served in the L,ow Countries in the time of Queen
Elizabeth, " that nothing in all his life lay more heavy on his
conscience than this false accusation of these innocents. "II

In spite of the extremely unpleasant character of the extract
we have given above, the entire passage will be found valuable,
we think, because it illustrates so significantly both the candor
and the essential manliness of spirit in which this disillusioned
specialist writes.

Nor will his chapter on the story of the English Bible ^ be
found less instructive to the English-speaking student of his-
tory in this country. Adherents of the old faith, no doubt,
are already familiar enough with the main outlines of this con-
troverted point as given by Lingard and by Abbot Gasquet

* Letters and Papers, IX. , 873. f The French Ambassador.

\ The italics are mine. — C. C.

§ Historia Schismatis Anglicani, p. 105. Ed. Cologne, 1628.

|| Vol. II., pp. 70-72. Dr. Gairdner adds an interesting footnote, giving the reference
in Fuller (Ch. Hist. Ed. 1845; III., 385) and identifying the nunnery as, possibly, Chatteris.
The penitent visitor was, he adds, no doubt, Ap Rice.

11 Book IV. Chapter I., p. 221.

1909] JS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? 797

and by Catholic writers of lesser note. If Dr. Gairdner does
not seriously contravene what they have argued for, he never-
theless manages to tell a story which is practically new both
in setting and in detail. Few positions in Catholicism have
been so regrettably misunderstood by the world of English-
speaking men, as its various enactments on the reading and
translation of the Scriptures. Here, if anywhere, is the Re-
formation protest supposed to be strong, while the Catholic
counter- ideal, in spite of all our explanations of it, is adjudged
to be correspondingly weak. Indeed, the whole case between
the two opposing schools may be decided offhand by a simple
juxtaposition. While the Authorized Version has been — up
to the present at least — one of the great formative influences
of the race, spiritually, temperamentally, linguistically, the
Douai and Rheims versions have been practically of no effect
at all. The King James translation, which may be said to have
become, more distinctively than all others, the English Bible,
was, in spite of the ex-parte and surely polemical character of
its production, an English and almost spontaneous growth ;
whereas the Catholic version was, at its best, an exotic, be-
cause continental, makeshift. It was a kind of bone flung
grudgingly to the dogs of war, and was never seriously intended
to edify the spiritual life of the laity at large, who were taught,
even while they used it, to mistrust it. So might one formu-
late in substance the thoughts of the victorious Protestant mind
on this sad subject of the English Bible at any time during
the past three hundred years. But what are the bare facts of
the case as Dr. Gairdner rearranges them ? First, that ver-
sions in the vernacular existed and were in use for the benefit
of unlettered souls, in the religious houses and out of them,
long before Wycliffe ever attempted to provide a Bible in the
English tongue; secondly, that there was no evidence of any
disposition on the part of authority to discourage the circula-
tion of these versions until heretical men began to garble par-
ticular texts and to emphasize their disquieting tendency by the
addition of marginal glosses of a very questionable and inflam-
matory kind ; thirdly, that Tyndale's version in particular was
unworthily associated with a strangely commercial, not to say
venal, transaction in which not merely a group of "Evangel-
ical " London merchants were involved, but the sanctimon-
ious translator himself; fourthly, that so far were the great

;98 IS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE? [Mar.,

body of Englishmen from taking kindly to this indiscriminate
spread of the Scriptures, that they had to be compelled to
listen, and through their parish priest to buy ; and fifthly, that
Henry VIII. encouraged the movement in part solely from a
selfish desire to lessen the prestige of the clergy, and by this
means to strengthen the principle of Royal Supremacy.* It
would seem that Bible worship as a religious institution among
us is not one whit more respectable in its ancestry than the
State worship that masqueraded so long in the guise of Royal
Supremacy.

We have dwelt more at length on Dr. Gairdner's two volumes
than on any of the others in the not insignificant list we have
chosen, because they illustrate so pointedly — one might almost
say, so surprisingly — the drift of scholarly interest to-day which
seems to be towards and not away from the Catholic goal. If
we have been frank in our praise, we have not, we trust, been
inconsiderate. There is much, of course, in these thousand pages
that a Catholic writer might be prone to criticize more ad-
versely than we could find it in our conscience to do, even on
historic grounds,! There is much, likewise, in the way of im-
plied ecclesiastical opinion which is both theologically unscientific
and logically unsound ; for Dr. Gairdner is evidently a sincere
believer in the " Continuity- Comprehensive" theory of modern
Anglicanism, and writes as though the English Church could
have passed through such a crisis as he has described and yet
emerge substantially intact. But considerations such as these
are beside the purpose of our present study, which has been
undertaken for the sole purpose of calling attention to what
thoughtful men cannot but regard as a hopeful sign of the
times. To have an intellectual interest in Catholicism, is not
the same thing as to understand Catholicism ; and the time may
still be far distant when the Church, as of old, will leaven the
new social order now shaping so indeterminably before our very
eyes. But it is a great thing to behold a dividing wall of
prejudice, built foolishly in ignorance and misapprehension,
broken down. Has the process of disintegration seriously be-
gun ? We may safely leave that question to a later generation
to answer. It is something, however, to have seen what we

* Book IV. : The Reign of the English Bible. Vol. II., pp. 221-303.
t See, for example, Abbot Gasquet's most recent strictures in the Tablet for January
16, and Father Thurston's admirable article in the Month for December last.

1909.] JS IT THE TURN OF THE TIDE f 799

are confronted by to-day, the unrest in the higher reaches of
the intellectual world. It is that unrest which threatens to
break down the wall whereof we speak; and it is a discontent
that reaches further than many of us imagine ! Neither in his-
tory nor in letters alone, but in science, in philosophy, and
even in religious creeds, as well, men are everywhere engaged
in reconsidering the long- accepted landmarks. It is the reign
of criticism; a kind of a new and formless Religion of the
Real. Wholly outside of the visible boundaries of Catholi-
cism as a definite movement at present, it betrays itself now and
then in a gathering tendency, as in the historic writers whose
books we have been considering, that looks strangely like an
advance towards those same subsidiary ends which Roman
Christianity in the quest of its further goal has claimed magis-
terially to foster. Is it a step towards a higher and more en-
during reunion ? The very suggestion of such an idea may
savor of madness to the outsider. But Roman views are pro-
verbially long views, and who shall say that the perspective
we have hinted at is at fault ?

Settn Hall, South Orange, N. J.

WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS

BY H. E. P.

A LEGEND OF HOLCOMBE.*

N the story of "The Old Manor House" I told
how I wandered down a grassy lane that ended in
a gate on which I rested, while I heard the story
of the haunting of the poor old place. To-day
I have climbed the gate — it is past opening
now — and crossed the field to another gate, where the lane,
narrowed to a mere path, begins once more. Evidently some
enterprising farmer, in a past age, has blotted out the inter-
mediate stretch of road, and added its site to his grazing land.
The path leads through a copse — a copse so thick that my
way lies darkly beneath the boughs that meet overhead. The
moss-covered path runs steeply to the bottom of the combe,
where a bridge crosses the stream, and here I pause. Run-
ning water is always an attraction, with its lights and shades,
its curves and rings, its restlessness. I watch the persistence
with which it pushes at that bit of stick, caught on a bramble
spray, until it sets it free, and sends it twisting down the
stream, only to be caught up half a dozen times more before
it has gone as many yards. Here a group of frothy bubbles
are having a quiet dance all to themselves in a back-water,
whither they have drifted. A merry swarm of gnats whirl round
and round in a streak of sunshine that has forced its way through
the boughs above. There are weddings amongst them, and
sudden deaths, and funerals and feasts, but they whirl on as if
life was only a waltz. There is sharp practice amongst the
spiders, hidden in aquatic plants, and general consternation
amongst everything and everybody, when a glad and frisky
trout jumps a foot into the air and upsets all this little world
with his returning splash. All this I see, while I listen to the
hum of the bees as they hunt among the scented bluebells,
and I hang over the parapet of the bridge.

*The " Great Pestilence" began in the south of England, in the autumn of 1348, and
lasted for about a year. During that time the disease swept away fully one-third of the popu
lation of England and Wales.

I909.J WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 801

The water dashes over a few boulders built up as an ob-
struction, and then falls into a pool before it runs beneath the
arch on which I stand. Along the sides of the pool is a fringe
of lady ferns, and their reflections seem to make another fringe
under water. A large clump of yellow marigolds have pushed
down to the edge, as if they too wanted to see their faces
like the vain lady ferns. And when I look above the babbling
water, as far as I can see, the ground is enameled with broad
patches of pink campion, broken up with bluebells here and
there. Away beyond, a sea of white garlic flowers ends in the
distance under the dark boughs of the fir plantation.

The water follows through the copse of hazel and dogroses,
and twists about mossy rocks, and splashes and bubbles and
sings, until at last it is out in the light, and free of the wood.
Then, for a dozen yards or so, it rushes on until it fills up a
hollow in the combe and makes a small lake. Here the pool
stretches from bank to bank, placid and still. In summer time
it bears up great water-lilies, which float wide open on its
breast and then it looks like a silver brooch set with pearls,
clasping together the sides of this sunny combe.

I leave the bridge and follow the path, which for a while
is companion to the stream. The sun is scorching hot for
early spring, and it "pens down," as the natives say, in this
narrow combe and brings out the flowers and butterflies and
the young birds, earlier than anywhere else. In fact the place
earns its name of Lucombe, or the loo-combe, because it faces
south and gets a full share of the sun.

Lucombe wood — with its stream and its flowers, with its
sunshine and its lake, with its sad tale hidden in its heart — is
no ordinary place. It once teemed with life. The laurels are
not wild, nor are its cherries nor its plums. Ages upon ages
ago fingers that are very still now plucked the raspberries
which even yet grow here in profusion. Five hundred years and
more have passed since the waterfall was made, or the bridge or
the lake, or this narrow and steep path on my right, which leads
me so suddenly upwards. It is the old road, doubtless, so I fol-
low it still. A tangle of raspberry and wild roses blocks the way.
Beyond great stalwart lime trees stand, shoulder to shoulder,
as if their office was to defend something precious. Through
the nettles, as high as my head I fight my way, and then, sud-
denly, I am close up to an old gray wall with windows in it.
VOL. LXXXVIII. — 51

802 WEST- COUNTRY IDYLLS [Mar.,

The church of St. Andrew was the parish church of Hoi-
combe, whose village in a bygone age nestled round it. On
the side from which I have approached it is completely shut
in by the trees of Lucombe wood, and they close in at its
ends as well. Only its south side is open, and this is given
up to the dead. No house is near — you hear no sound but
the singing of the birds.

The sun beats down on the low square tower at the one
end, and on the little sanctuary at the other. Half way be-
tween the two is the porch with its zig-zag Norman arch, and
within it the old door, closed above a well-worn step. How
wonderfully peaceful it is ! The dead must lie in more than
ordinary calm in such a spot as this — so remote, so unworldly,
so forgotten. And why have all things drifted away from the
place, leaving it only with its dead ? What has happened to
stop the flow of life, so that the old church is left so lonely
and so desolate ? The terrible secret is yards down beneath
those heaving mounds, away there in the field, beyond the
churchyard wall.

It is hot, and I am weary with the stiff climb and the
fight with the brambles and nettles. The porch, with its shade
and its bench, invites to rest. Here I can look out across the
buried dead, whose stones record their names, to that buried
village where so many lie, all unnamed, unknown. As I rest
— unless I grow too sleepy — I must try to call up to my
mind's eye how that village looked, with its rows of thatched
cottages, its narrow street, its simple folk, its simple life.

Part of my view is hidden by a rose bush growing near the
porch. A robin at this moment perches on one of its long
swaying shoots, and begins to sing. I have often tried to un-
derstand the robin's song, and once more I wonder at its theme.
The mournful cadence which brings the short effort to an end
is so unlike the joy song of any of our native birds. On a wild
day in early autumn, when the leaves come flying down in thou-
sands, and the rain pelts on the window, his song is in place.
On such a day, perched just outside the house, he seems to be
singing the dirge of the dead summer. But on a bright spring
morning, when the joy of new-born nature knows no bounds, I
never understand the robin's song. Perhaps not far away, under
some primrose leaves, his wife is sitting, brown- eyed and still, on
five well-loved eggs. You would think he would feel proud and
glad as other birds, but yet he sings his dirge — his sad, sad dirge.

1 909. ] WEST- Co UNTR Y ID YLLS 80 3

I listen on — listen dreamily to the ever repeated cadence.
Presently it seems to me to have words — I'm sure he is singing
words — they grow plainer and plainer — Kyrie Eleison, Christe
Eleison — no ; the words come from inside the church, and I
hear footsteps too —

The procession is not long. A quaint silver cross leads the
way, and there are boys, and the candles gleam before they
pass out into the bright sunshine, and then their sparks are
lost. Two and two, and sometimes three and three, the people
come out of the church and follow the cross. Lastly walks a
priest, who half reads, half chants from a book, the Litany of
the Saints. They pass me as I sit in the porch, but they pass
me and seem to heed me not at all.

Down the churchyard path, through an old gate with a roof
above it, from which wild garlands of white starry clematis are
hanging, and then out into the winding village street they go.
I can still hear the singing, and the priest's voice, plain and
solemn, calls three times on St. Andrew their patron, and three
times over the people shout back their Ora pro nobis. The
bishop has ordered a procession in every church in his diocese
that God may be implored to stay the great pestilence which
even now has reached England, and down the country on the
Dorset coast has already " most pitifully destroyed people in-
numerable.11* The procession is out of sight. I have seen old
folk, too feeble to walk with the others, come to their doors
and bow as low as age would let them, when the cross passed
and the priest prayed.

An old man claims my attention. He is not walking in the
procession, nor is he standing at his door. He is deformed,
and when I saw his face a few moments ago I did not like it.
He has walked off and has gone past the side of the church
where there is a footpath, and I see whither it is leading him.
The lake is at the end of the path, and it shines through the
trees. A bend leads the old hunchback to his hut, which is on
the bank some yards above the water. I wonder why he has
not joined in the procession — every one in the place was in it,
and seemed terribly in earnest too, for they must fear this
dreadful visitation and are praying God to spare them. The
man has gone into his hut, and is laughing to himself. An old
dame leaning on a stick, passes the door, and as she does so,
speaks to the hunchback. He is telling her she is late for the

* August 17, 1348.

804 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Mar.,

procession, that it is quite out of the village by now, and per-
haps half way round the parish, and that she had better go
back home again. No, she will go up to the church and say
her prayers, and wait -till they return. She is in no hurry, and
they chat. I gather that the hunchback is the grave-digger ; and
he seems to me to talk profanely, for the old dame chides him
often. He does not mind if the pestilence comes — the more
that die, the more graves there are to dig, and the more groats
to earn ; and for what is life, if not for gathering groats ? I
think the other suggests that the plague might take him too,
but he only laughs and makes game of both her prayers and
fears. Then she leaves him and goes by the path that leads
upwards to the church.

The procession is now some distance on its way, for I can
hear the chanting response to the litany coming across the hill
that rises above the lake on the right. To judge from its vol-
ume, many more souls have joined since they left the church,
for the sound is loud and strong, although it must be at least
half a mile away. Perhaps the very earnestness with which they
sing makes the chant travel so far and so distinctly. It must
be a dreadful thing, this new disease, and it gives but little
time when it strikes its victim. At Melcombe Regis [Wey«
mouth], where it began, they say that the pestilence had two
forms. If it attacked the lungs it brought on a terrible blood
spitting, and within an hour, even with the strongest man, all
was over. With the weak and the young it was quicker even
than this. When the plague took the other shape, great black
swellings came under the arm or in the groin, or indeed, for
the matter of that, all over the body of the luckless sufferer.
Death was not so swift when the blood spitting was absent, and
the victim might last a couple of days or so, according to his
age and strength. A few of those stricken with the black swell-
ings sometimes lived through the attack and dragged on a dying
life for months, and then slowly came back to health. But for
most men, once to be taken with this dire disease meant death
— death quick and terrible. And when the pestilence is on
them, folk are quite at a loss how to meet him. The simple
remedies they know of seem quite useless, and he laughs them
to scorn. They have tried blood-letting, but the victim died
just the same. No herbs of which they know have any effect;
nothing placed against these awful swellings stops the biting
pang. Once the pestilence seizes, the man is doomed, and his

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 805

nearest, dearest friend will fly from him in terror. Then alone,
forsaken by all, the raving delirium will fill his last moments
with woe and anguish. If the priest is not stricken down too,
the last rites are hurriedly, furtively given — the fierce struggle
begins, and choked with the ever rising blood from the lungs, in
a short space the poor creature is a discolored, swollen corpse.

They have already died by the hundred in this manner, all
along the seacoast, where the ships and the fisher boats first
brought the disease from abroad, and now, as it spreads inland,
a great and terrible fear of approaching evil is in all men's
minds. No wonder the chant rises with such a loud chorus as
the folks join in and pray, perhaps as they have never prayed
before, that the homes they love so well may be spared. Are
they not out of the way — off the ordinary roads, here in their
little sequestered village — and may they not reasonably hope
that the pestilence will pass them by ? Alas, alas ! not one in
all the throng that now sings so earnestly, and that begs this
tender mercy at the hands of an all-merciful God, will be alive
three months from to-day ! The voice — the priestly voice that
I heard read the litany so sternly and so strong — will be hushed
forever by that cruel hand, and another will come after him.
He too will die, even while he ministers to the dying, and then
of priests there will be an end, for the flock has gone. The
whole flock has been stamped out of existence, and so no shep-
herd is needed — save to plead for their souls. But much must
happen ere that awful silence falls upon the village, ere its
beating life is still.

Round the lake, following the path that will lead past the
hunchback's hut, comes a peddler. He is a young man and
bears a great pack upon his shoulders that the August sun
makes to feel heavier than it is. At least, so I think, for I
see him set the pack down often and rest. As he arrives in
sight of the hut, the sexton comes to the door to look out, or
perhaps to hear the distant singing. When the peddler reaches
the cottage, he once more sets his pack on the ground, and
throws himself down on the bank near the door in the shade.
He asks the hunchback for something to drink, but the old
man only laughs. Presently the peddler gets more persistent,
but the sexton never moves from the doorway, he seems to
me to be enjoying the discomfort of the youth. Then the ped-
dler stoops over his pack and unbuckles its great strap and
rolls out the contents on the grass beneath the trees. He holds

$,06 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Mar.,

up something, I cannot see what, but the hunchback only laughs
again. Then he shows him something else, and this time the
old man takes the article and looks at it closely. He nods to
the peddler and goes into his hut, taking the thing with him.
He is out again directly, carrying a red earthen pitcher, about
as much as he can lift. The stranger is down on his knees,
and he tips the pitcher over towards him, and puts his lips
to the brim and seems to take a long draught. Then he pauses,
and after a moment or two takes another longer than before.
I see the hunchback watching him closely as he throws him-
self on the bank again, and heedless of his pack being open
and all unprotected, rolls over on his face and kicks the ground
with his toes as if in some sharp pain.

How long the peddler stays there I cannot tell, but it seems
an age. All the while the old man has hovered round him
like some bird of prey, but he has never touched him, for he
is certainly afraid. Presently the youth sits up, and I see great
quantities of blood coming from his mouth. All the fail, mossy
bank about him is horrid with the stains, and ever and anon
he sinks backwards, and then sits up once more as the blood
forces its way to his lips. The poor fellow knows what is the
matter — he has caught the pestilence on his journey and he
will die. A conversation is carried on while the peddler has
voice and strength. He seems to want something, or some one,
and asks earnestly ; but the hunchback never moves from the
doorway. He seems to be watching the youth grow weaker
and weaker, as a spider might watch his victim, waiting until
the strength to resist is gone.

At the back of the hut is a shed — a place formed with
rough tree trunks and a roof of dried fern. The walls on two
sides are made with a wattle of dried fern and sedge from the
lake. The sexton has driven the peddler with a long stick — he
keeps as far from him as he can — round to this place, that he
may die upon the dry fern with which the floor is strewn.
Then he goes to the lake and brings up pitcher after pitcher
of water, which he throws upon the bank to wash out the scar-
let stains. But before he goes, he rolls up the pack and drags
it into his hut and fast closes the door. Yes, I seem to see
the whole plan. The peddler will die, for the pestilence has
marked him down. Then, if the old man can get rid of the
corpse without any one knowing it, the pack will be his, for
no one saw the traveler come that way.

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 807

The chanting is borne on the air from the other side of the
lake now, so the procession has made a good part of its jour-
ney, and ere long it will be returning by this road, and so
back to the church. Little the good people know that, while
they cry for mercy, the foe has even now broken through and
is at their very ^doors, awaiting their return. Little [too do
they think, as they pass the sexton's hut, that the air is full
of the pestilential disease, and that by to-morrow it will be-
gin to mow them down ; while in their full life and strength
they will fall helpless before it, as helpless as they have oft-times
seen the summer grass fall across the scythe.

Why is the old hunchback rolling two great stones to the
edge of the lake, and why does he hasten back again to his
hut? A long trailing dead bough is on the ground, and lying
on it is the corpse of the peddler, livid and swollen. Down to
the water's edge the sexton drags his sledge with its burden,
and then he rests. He ties two cords about the corpse, and
then I see what the great stones are for. But here the old
man pauses again and steps back and ponders within himself.
Yes; it is a pity to drown all those good clothes, and yet — it
is a risk, to be sure, but 'twere a real pity to send so much
to the bottom of the lake. Later on he could sell the clothes,
and they would turn to groats.

He unbinds the feet again, draws off the shoes and hose
and strips the dead man even to his shirt, and, fearful of the
infection, casts the things about him on the bank almost like
one possessed. Then he makes the great stones fast again and
drags and pulls until one goes over the edge with a splash,
and the other follows a moment later, between them taking the
dead man to the bottom of the lake.

The hunchback gathers up the clothes and dips them in the
water and wrings them out, and dips them again, and once
more wrings the water out. Back beyond his hut he hangs
them in the wood to dry.

The village seems full of life and the folk pass up and down
the narrow street or stop and chat. The hunchback is busy.
He spreads the tale that yesterday, while they were going
round the parish singing the litany, he was in Bristol and
brought back the goods they wanted. To this one and to
that I see him sell the peddler's wares, pressing all to buy, as
he has great store to-day. There is laughing and bargaining,
a friendly calling of the old man ugly names, for his avarice

808 WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS [Mar.,

and greed are a byword in the village. He has pressed his
goods and sold cheaper to day than he has ever been known
to sell before, and scarce a household in the place but what is
richer for something from the peddler's pack. Even the parish
priest, who passes him in the street, stops and looks at his
goods, and holds some of them up and appraises them in play-
ful mood at a much lower sum than he knows the stony-
hearted little man will ever sell them for. %

Hot and close and sultry grows the evening, and but few
stars shine in the dark sky. Faint lights show here and there
in the houses, and the stillness of night is coming on. Pres-
ently I see a neighbor come out of her cottage and go into
the next one, scarcely waiting to knock. She is out again at
once, taking the other woman back with her. There is a talk
at a bed-side, where lies a boy — a farm boy — of fourteen years
or so. His face is black and flushed, great beads stand on his
forehead and his talk is wild and frightened. His mother lifts
his arm and points to great swellings underneath. "The pes-
tilence," the neighbor cries, " the pestilence," and rushes from
the house. Lower down the street a knot of men are talking,
and a door stands open near them. They point to it as moans
and almost shrieks come forth, and say with frightened voice :
" The pestilence has come — the pestilence is here." The parish
priest is going from house to house. I see some rush at him to
pull him one way, while others would fain have him come with
them, for the destroying angel has passed by, and from the
wailing and the crying, and the terror on men's faces, there can-
not be a house where there is not one dead.

In the gray of the early morning the hunchback is at work
digging a great pit. Two men assist him, for the time is short.
Through the little sanctuary window a dim light comes, and
through the open door the holy murmur of the Mass. Then
the dead are brought, rolled in their winding sheets, and the
grave receives its own. What a dreadful crowd of dead, what
a frightened handful of living ! Then they fly, scared, from the
grave's mouth back to the village, back to the dying, back to
their own death. One, and one only, smiles on — for he draws a
groat for every corpse ; and when there is no one living to give it,
he goes into the cottage and takes anything he likes. And now
the voice is silent in the church, and close by the door, alone
and separate from the rest, the priest is in his hasty grave.
Another grave — more dead — less living — and so on, day by day.

1909.] WEST-COUNTRY IDYLLS 809

One more pit has to be dug, and the sexton says, as he
lays himself down, that he will rise with the light, as this will
be the last, for there now live scrace half a- dozen souls, and
some of these have battled with the foe and conquered and
cheated him of his fee. The hunchback turns uneasily in his
bed. He looks where the pestilence first marks its victim, and
persuades himself that there is nothing there. An hour passes
and the pain and heat increase. He is sure now. By the faint
rush-light he sees the glands beneath his arm stand out swollen,
rigid and black. He knows that it is all over with him, and
the agony he has watched in others he must himself go through
alone. But if he must leave what in that simple age seemed
in his greedy eyes a wealth untold, he will at least be even
with the cruel God who has cheated him out of it.

He had planned what he would do weeks ago, when he
placed another great stone by the side of the lake. Yet when
he fain would rise to carry out his design, he finds that death
holds him tighter than he thinks, and he strives to rise in vain.
Falling backwards, he rolls over on his face, and in his agony
kicks the bed, as he had once watched the peddler kick the
turf. The heat that rages in him brings wild fancies to his
brain. He sees the peddler by his side, risen from the lake,
covered with its ooze and slime and dripping wet. The dread-
ful form seems to demand its pack, and it holds a red pitcher,
full to the brim, but will not give a drink to the thirst-tormented
wretch.

Shrieking, cursing, shrinking from the accuser, the sexton,
mad with his fever and his fear, snatches at his bag of savings,
and rushes from the hut. The lily leaves divide, there is
scarcely a splash, and the old hunchback, still grasping his
groats, is at the bottom of the lake, fathoms down.

The grass is high in the village street, the roofs have fallen in,
the place has moldered to decay, the stream of life has stopped.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, parce nobis Domine —
Why, the procession must be coming back again! I thought
it had returned long ages ago, and much that was very, very
terrible had passed since — Miserere nobis — yet the tune is not
the litany — it is a robin's song — it is the robin that was sing-
ing before — yes; this porch was a comfortable place to rest in,
and I must have slept. Over there are the green mounds and
all around me is this sad past.

IN SICILY.

BY JOSEPH McSORLEY, C.S.P.
II.— CATANIA.

jN a recent edition of a New York Italian newspaper,
there is a column of correspondence from Cata-
nia, dated January thirteenth. By a rather curious
chance the entire correspondence is taken up with
describing the discovery of mangled human re-
mains in the body of a huge shark captured by Catanesi fisher-
men just outside the port. By a curious chance, I say, because
a year ago almost to the day, in that very port, "Zio," Pippo,
and I hired a barchetta at dusk and rowed out around the arm
of the breakwater into the quiet- rolling Ionian Sea; and despite
the half -laughing, half-serious protests of my companions, I
plunged in to swim for a few minutes in the cold, bracing water,
mocking their warnings about the fierce man-eating pesci-cani.
" Un* altra Americanata," said Pippo, and "Zio " shrugged his
shoulders, and we all laughed. It had come to be a recognized
by-law of this happy little company that Americans are privi-
leged characters not to be fettered by prevalent conventions
or common customs. It is inevitable that men will be influ-
enced by the irresponsible behavior of their associates, and the
next time I swam in the Ionian Sea — diving from the base of
one of the rocks that the blinded Cyclops hurled at the wily
Ulysses — Pippo jumped in too. And "Zio" almost came — not
quite, for I think he still remembered fearfully the day when I
had lured him to crouch with me in a dirty iron box and be
let down by a chain, along fifteen hundred feet of shaky track,
into the heart of the sulphur mines at Centuripe. Ever after
that adventure he was wont to regard me suspiciously when I
would repeat my favorite compliment, namely, that he was quite
fit to be an American. Ah, good old "Zio," caro Pippo, when
shall we meet and jest again ?

Now, dear American reader, these were Sicilian youths, these
chums of mine, and we lived together for months in a happy

1909.]

IN SICILY

811

brotherhood, part of the time on their native island and then
again on the continent. And I may take advantage of the
present occasion to record of them what in a general way I can
affirm of their countryman, the often despised Sicilian — they
were true, intelligent, sympathetic, generous-hearted friends.
That there are characteristic faults, as there are characteristic
virtues, in the Sicilian type, no one of course will for a moment
doubt. But I think it is obvious to most travelers that the Si-
eilian is a great deal better than his reputation, and that for-
eigners are usually led to judge him harshly because they put
an undeserved confidence in the critical comments of his worst
enemy, the continental Italian. And as for the Sicilian's faults
— well, I have only this to say, that almost anything may be
excused in the conduct of one who has been the victim of such
neglect, such abuse, and such secular plunder as he has had to
undergo.

Catania is a pretty town and impresses the visitor first with
its very neat and very modern aspect. This point of contrast
with other southern cities is readily understood when one learns
that the city he is looking at is the latest of a series, for as
Catania lies on the slope between Mount Etna and the sea,
volcanic eruptions send down upon it great torrents of molten
lava, which periodically bury the old city and then become the
foundations of the new.

Leaving the railway station — of course after having had the
customary quarrel with the cabmen — we see first of all a foun-
tain with an ornate specimen of what may be called the free-
and-easy style of sculpture; and then a statue of St. Agatha, pa-
tron of the city, surmounting an ancient column of great height.
We pass the Via Lincoln ; to the left is the grand promenade,
beyond it the port, bounded by an immense sea-wall, and then
the ocean stretching away towards Greece and Malta and
Cyprus. A short ride down the Corso — but, behold ! here is
"Zio," here is Pippo, come to embrace me and to welcome me.
Catanesi to the manner born, they take me in hand, carry me
to my appointed lodging, pay the vetturino, and ask me only
to tell them how I wish to spend my time. And every day
of my stay in Catania they will place themselves at my service.

You must get a better map of the city than a guide book
provides if you would find my lodgings in the Via Dottore, or
else you must take these directions : Starting from the facade

8 12 IN SICILY [Mar.,

of the Duomo, follow the Via Garibaldi until near the Piazza
Mazzini, then plunge bravely into the squalid little short and
narrow street at your left. If you go on a few steps you will
see on the left hand side of the street a dingy looking tene-
ment. Pick your steps among the goats, if a herd happens to
be passing on the sidewalk, and do not look too amazed if you
see one of them being milked into a can let down by one of
the housekeepers of the upper floor. Goat's milk is the only
kind you are going to get for the next few days; and goat's
flesh you will eat and be glad to get it, if you stay here.
Ecco ! the battered old door. Ecco / the filthy courtyard.
Ecco ! the dark stairway — step very carefully if you have not
your goloshes on. Ecco! Here is my very room. The ceil-
ing is just as low as ever — you don't expect time to bring
changes here, do you ? The light is just as bad — did you sup-
pose the people on the floor above had stopped hanging out the
wash in front of the window ? You can read a book here easily
enough if you crouch up there in the corner and seize your
chance when the wind flaps back the sheet that is drying out-
side; or if that doesn't do, you may light the lamp. Here's a
basin of water where you may kill the fleas most daintily —
when you've caught them — if you have learned the art of blood-
less execution. Don't worry about that anyway, because you'll
quickly learn with constant practice. Sicilian fleas are so large
and so placid — comparatively — and so numerous, that the veriest
blockhead can become fairly expert in the use of scientific
methods of destruction.

But blessed is he who has any stopping place in these days,
be it in a miserable little albergo of the Via Dottore or in one
of the big hotels where the rich Inglesi stay, for the town is
filled with strangers and quivering with excitement. Bands are
parading through the streets perpetually and venders of every
imaginable kind of wares stand at the corners and in the squares
and in the big Piazza Duomo, where they group around the
huge lava elephant carrying an ancient Egyptian granite obelisk,
that you see reproduced in the municipal arms. The Via
Stesicoro-Etnea— which is the popular promenade and which
affords a splendid vista of Etna's white summit twenty miles
away— is so crowded now as to make passage difficult. Yet
prancing along its driveway, two abreast, comes the eight-horse
team of a fashionable young nobleman, who sits on the box and

1909.] IN SICILV 813

enjoys the admiration of the crowd. Here and there posters on
the walls announce the various features of the celebration. I
shall not forget the details, for to this day I have preserved
two copies. And here is the way the Catanesi honor their pa-
tron saint :

PROGRAMME FOR THE FEAST OF ST. AGATHA.

January 29, 30, 31.

Solemn Triduum at the Cathedral at 17:30 o'clock. Bands
of music will parade the different quarters of the city.

February i.

Music as on the preceding day. At 16 o'clock horse-races
in Twentieth of September Street,* with prizes for the winners
and launching of baloons in the Piazza dell* Esposizione.

February 2.

At 12 o'clock drawing of lotteries at the City Hall — three
prizes, of L 125 each, for marriage portions of poor orphan
girls of Catania, and seven prizes of L 25 each, for poor families
of conscripts.

Horse-races with prizes in Twentieth of September Street
and launching of baloons in the Piazza dell' Esposizione at
1 6 o'clock; music as on the preceding day.

February 3.

In the morning, parade of the various "candles," escorted
by bands of music. At 13 o'clock procession for the offering
of wax along the Via Stesicorea from the Church of St. Agatha
of the Furnace to the Metropolitan (i. e., the Cathedral). From
14:3010 16:30 musical concert at the Bellini Gardens. At 19
o'clock march of singing youths, with grand pyrotechnic dis-
play conducted by Signor Giamore Salvatore.

February 4.

Bands of music will parade in the city streets until four
o'clock in the morning. At 6:30 o'clock, outside journey of
the Sacred Body of the Saint, with stops at the Churches of

* A common Italian street name— it commemorates the date of the taking of Rome by the
army of Victor Emmanuel.

8 14 IN SICILY [Mar.,

the Carmine and Old St. Agatha. Musical concerts from
12:30 to 14:30 o'clock in Piazza. Stesicoro ; from 14:30 to
16:30 at the Bellini Gardens, and from 20:30 until the return
of the Saint to Piazza. Duomo.

February 5.

Solemn Pontifical, with grand orchestra, in the Metropolitan,
celebrated at 10 o'clock by his Eminence, the Cardinal Arch-
bishop. From 14:30 to 16:30 o'clock, musical concert and
dress parade in the Bellini Gardens, with prizes for the best
equipages. At 16 o'clock, inside journey of the Sacred Body
of the Saint. At the arrival of the Saint in Piazza Stesicoro
there will be a splendid display of fireworks in the square of the
Cappuccini; and along the hill on Lincoln Street there will be
another grand illumination. In the evening musical concert in
Piazza Duomo where, at the return of the Saint, fireworks will
be set off.

THE PRESIDENT OF THE COMMISSION.

With unimportant exceptions, everything happened as an-
nounced; but the printed programme gives a poor idea of the
noise, the color, the feverish emotion of these days of high
festival. The reader acquainted with Giovanni Verga's Coda
del Diavolo may perhaps recall his words : " At Catania there
is no carnival before Lent, but in compensation they have the
feast of St. Agatha." And a Sicilian carnival it surely is.

Monday morning came the procession of the Candelore,
great immense candelabra, carved and painted, and adorned
with statues, lamps, and banners. Each of these belongs to a
trade, and the eight strong fellows who carry the colossal con-
struction stop before the workshops and stores of members of
their own profession and execute a queer little shuffling dance.
Monday night the bands of students and of workmen who ser-
enaded the houses of the more prominent citizens, visited first
the palace of the Cardinal Archbishop and then the house of
the Prefect of the city. The Via Stesicoro was crowded and
the balconies above were packed tightly with watchers as one
after another these groups of twenty or thirty young men
marched along, escorted by a band, singing gay hymns in honor
of the saint. Every few moments, too, explosions of bombs

I909-]

IN SICILY

815

and firecrackers rent the air and the brilliant flames of rockets
lit up the darkness with variously colored pictures. All night
long the musicans paraded — my earliest experience next morn-
ing was that of being awakened at half- past four o'clock by a
band that passed near my albergo.

At half- past six on Tuesday morning, the streets were al-
ready fairly well filled with people on their way to the
cathedral; and inside, the members of the various trades were
getting ready their candelore, which looked in the dim morning
like so many portable towers. At the side altars Masses were
being offered, and some people were receiving Holy Communion,
though many men were wearing their hats and there was con-
siderable loud talking and scurrying about. When everything
was in readiness " La Santa " commenced the exit from the
chapel amid loud and long " Evvivas "/ and as soon as the
procession had reached the Piazza, a halt was made and a ser-
mon was preached.

After Mass I went from the Cathedral to the seminary close
by and from a high balcony looked down upon the broad Via
Dusmet, where it spreads into a sort of square between the
seminary and the railway here built along the water's edge. In
the street below were crowded some ten thousand people of
every sort, including young girls and numerous babies in arms.
Beyond the bright pageant of brilliant colors set into the black
masses of clothing and the white lines of faces, one saw
the blue ocean lighted by the morning sun. It was eight
o'clock, time for the procession to appear. And now, by way
of precursors, straggle along groups of boys dressed in white
albs that make a new harmony of color as they mingle with
the gay clothing of the crowd. Ecco / There comes the long
line of black- capped, white- gowned, white-gloved men hauling
with two long ropes the enormous car which supports the re-
liquary. Head and breast are in a hollow silver bust decorated
with precious votive offerings, watches, rings, and jewels. A
pectoral cross of Pius IX, is there and another of Leo XIII. ; and
on the head is an emperor's crown, possibly given by Richard
Coeur de Lion. In the great silver casket, surrounded with
candles and flowers, repose the bones. As the car swings round
the corner into full view, the crowd breaks out into an enthusias-
tic chorus of " Vivas / "and thousands of white handkerchiefs are
now waved frantically in the air. Down from the upper windows

8i6 IN SICILY [Mar.,

of the seminary fall nine gaily colored paper banners, each as
it unfolds displaying a huge painted letter, and there they
hang spelling out the name " San? Agata" Bombs of fearful
power are exploded, a "musketry" of fire- crackers is set off,
and down in a perfect shower rain thousands of tiny fragments
of colored paper. Then come the striscie — long, sinuous, snake-
like paper ribbons, yellow and white and pink and green, that
dart out from the balcony and turn and float and dive and twist,
serpent- wise, until they fall limp across faces and hats and
shoulders in the crowd below, or catch on the branches of the
two trees across the way to hang there and festoon them
gaily.

My first striscia comes down upon the head of the man
who holds the free end of the nearer rope, and my second falls
over the shoulders of one of his two hundred followers. Slowly
and with frequent stops " La Santa " is drawn along, at the
signal of a little bell rung by a man beside the stoled and sur-
pliced priest upon the car. A railway train speeds by over
across the street, the engine itself bearing a streaming green
striscia that some one has contrived to cast over it, and the
passengers crowd to the windows to wave salutes.

Until nine o'clock that night " La Santa" continued her
journey through the city. At noon I met the procession ap-
proaching the Church of the Carmine and stood at the door
to watch. The vast piazza was crowded as at a fair and every
nearby street was holiday-jammed. Itinerant venders sold nuc-
ciole, cannole, pictures of the saint, printed hymns, baloons, and
the like. The peasant women were radiant in silks and satins
and brocades — of a richness that amazed me, until Pippo ex-
plained that these were their wedding dresses saved through
the years to be used on such glad occasions as the present.

As one looked around all colors caught the eye, pink and
green and blue, orange and gold and red. Now and again a
boy or man in white camice and black velvet cap would struggle
by through the crowd or stand to chat with friends. Bells
tolled and colored paper rained down as the candelore of the
five trades came along — butchers, bakers, grocers, winesellers,
fishermen — and the flags on the top fluttered and gleamed in
the sunlight as the bearers rushed up the steep ascent. Mus-
cular, bronzed fellows they were— panting with exertion now,
though often relieved— wearing turbans of sack cloth folded back

1909.] IN SICILY 817

on the shoulders into little pads to ease the strain of the car-
rying poles.

A youth beside me commented on the magnificence of the
bara, or car, as it passed, saying rather contemptuously that the
one used by Santa Rosalia — patron saint of Palermo — was molto
piccola. He also said some strong things about the disgraceful
scenes often enacted at the patronal festival of Tre Castagne,
a village near Catania. Fierce fighting and riotous drinking
were common things there, he affirmed. Many people go to
that festa barefoot and a number of youths run all the way
from Catania clad very scantily.

As we talked his Eminence, the Cardinal, drove up to attend
the function, in a handsome carriage, escorted by two men in
livery — blue coat, with red cuffs and silver buttons, red knee-
breeches, crimson stockings, white gloves, tall black hats with
yellow bands. The horses, too, were decorated with red. As
he went slowly up the lane between the people, they crowded
in upon him and many seized and kissed his hand; for he is
an affable and most lovable man.

And now, amid loud resounding bombs and striscie, that dart
with startling suddenness from the balconies overhanging the
street, "La Santa" approaches the church. The two hundred
and fifty men at the ropes pass the entrance by about fifty
yards, and then swinging round in a great quarter circle, face
the door, and rush the heavy car up the hill behind the three
monks in Mass vestments, who have issued from the door to
meet the procession. And a great cry goes up, " Cit-ta-di-ni!
Viva San? Aitaf" As you may well suppose, the woodenr un-
ners on which the bara rests slide up that stone incline only
by the mightiest of efforts. To get the bara started, the bearers
must always sway it a little from side to side, or wiggle it as
we might say. " Dondolare " is the Italian word for this, but the
Catanesi have a special phrase, "s'anaga," and this they repeat
delightedly when the bara begins to move in its peculiar fashion.

Behind the bara we were swept into the church ; thousands
had preceded us and other thousands tried to follow. It was
a noisy place ; men and women conversed unconcernedly wher-
ever they chanced to meet, a canon attempted to preach, a
priest came out to say Mass at a side altar and was buried in
the crowd with scarcely room to extend his hands. Perched on
the confessionals might be noticed several women, bound to

VOL. LXXXYIII.— 52

8i8 IN SICILY [Mar.,

secure a vantage corner. It would not have been an auspicious
occasion for St. Paul to preach against externalism. Many re-
garded me curiously ; but being stared at had long ago become
an old story, and I went on jotting things down in my little
notebook.

" Cit-ta-di-ni ! " shouted the Canon; one could scarcely hear
him. " Viva San? Aita / '" went up the answering cry of the
fervent multitude. It was noon ; High Mass was about to com-
mence, and we left the building, noting on the walls the curi-
ous collection of ex-voto offerings, wax dolls, wax arms, and
crude pictures of miracles.

At five o'clock in the afternoon we again met the proces-
sion at the church of the Cappucini. Again the venders, the
noisy, jostling, holiday crowds, the filled balconies. A wan-
dering organ-grinder broke into the line of the procession dur-
ing a halt and played La Spagnuola, the most popular music-
hall air in Italy last year. Inside the church a monk was re-
ceiving a visit from half-a-dozen friends, and a woman sat be-
fore the high altar complacently nursing her baby, as uncon-
scious of observation as the Madonnas in the pictures that
adorn these southern churches.

At half-past nine o'clock that night " La Santa" returned
to the Cathedral, amid a glory of red lights, rockets, bombs,
" musketry," music, and illumiaated candelore, while thousands
of people, including many babies, filled the Piazza from end to
end.

At eleven o'clock Wednesday morning was sung a Solemn
Pontifical Mass. A band of thirty pieces played, and a choir
of some forty men and boys supplemented the usual sanctuary
choir, singing the Common in music, which, though operatic,
was not undignified. Guards, wearing their red and blue holi-
day-plumes abounded; here and there were stylish looking
dragoons and bersaglieri with their curious feather plumes.
" La Santa " was carried from her own chapel to the high altar
and was then turned around so as to face the people. Every
now and again would come the summons " Cit-ta-di-ni ! " fol-
lowed by the response " Viva San? Aita!" His Eminence en-
tered, prayed, and ascended the throne — more bombs, bells,
" musketry."

But I must abbreviate the further account of the celebra-'
tion. The afternoon found us at the Villa Bellini, where, in

1909.]

IN SICILY

819

the grand parade of Catania's aristocracy, I saw dukes, duch-
esses, princes, marchesas, and all the rest. Seeing the ladies
on these occasions one easily notes that it is not only in fire-
works that Catania consumes an enormous amount of powder.

At five in the evening " La Santa " began her second jour-
ney through the city. It was dark when the procession left
the Piazza and came along the Corso to visit the old cloister
where three venerable nuns, sole surviving relics of the ancient
regime, appeared at the barred window. The Government will
confiscate that convent as soon as those three old ladies die.
At different points along the route were given magnificent dis-
plays of fireworks, and when, near midnight, " La Santa"
reached the Cathedral again, a grand giuoco-fuoco was presented,
" Viva Sanf Agata " being printed out in letters made up of
dazzling fireworks. One of the candelore shone brilliantly with
acetylene lamps, and each of the groups gave their short, shuf-
fling dance as they made their exit. Even before " La Santa "
was taken from the bara and carried into her chapel by the
attendant clerics, the big firework letters had burned out and
the last tremendous rattle of " musketry " had been set off. The
band struck up the Marcia Reale, the crowd began to break
up and drift away, and the boys and men commenced to tear
down the smoking remnants of the burned sticks and paper.
The venders of nucciole and torroni, having done their last piece
of business for the night, folded their stands or carried off their
empty trays. The streets grew quieter and darker by degrees.
The great Festa of the year was over.

IRew Boohs* ' ;

Anything coming from the pen of
SERMONS. Cardinal Gibbons is sure, in ad-

vance, of a kindly reception, from

an immense public, comprising all American Catholics and a
large section of our non-Catholic fellow-countrymen. In the
volume of sermons which he has just published* he has sketched
a picture of the most illustrious of his predecessors which, with
a few adaptations required by difference of time, public opinion
would approve as a picture of himself. In a sermon on the
growth of the Church in the United States he says of Bishop
Carroll :

I regard the selection of Dr. Carroll as a most providential
event for the welfare of the American Church. If a prelate
of narrow views, a man out of sympathy and harmony with
the genius of the new Republic had been chosen, the progress
of religion would have been seriously impeded. It is true
the Constitution has declared that no one should be molested
on account of his religion ; but a written instrument would
have been a feeble barrier to stem the tide of popular and
traditional prejudice unless it was vindicated by the patriotic
example of the Patriarch of the American Church. . . .
He was a man of sterling piety and enlightened zeal. These
gifts endeared him to the faithful. He was a man of consum-
mate tact, of courteous manners, and unfailing charity. He
enjoyed intimate relations with his fellow-townsmen in every
walk of life. The interest that he took in social and literary
improvement rendered him very popular with his fellow-citi-
zens. He was, withal, a sturdy patriot. ... He was
thoroughly in touch with the spirit of our institutions, and by
these loyal sentiments he won the esteem and confidence of
his countrymen.

The sermons are based on the Gospel of the day for the
Sundays throughout the year. The first good quality to be
perceived in them is brevity; for the author, in the role of
preacher, practises the virtue which, when it is his turn to lis-
ten, he appreciates highly in the pulpit orator. About two-
thirds of the discourses are moral, and one- third dogmatic.

* Discourses and Sermons for Every Sunday and the Principal Festivals of the Year. By
James Cardinal Gibbons. Baltimore and New York : John Murphy Company.

1909.]

NEW BOOKS

821

They were, the Cardinal tells us, for the most part, preached
in the Cathedral of Baltimore, and treat of topics that " have
been to the writer an unfailing source of joy and comfort, of
strength and fortitude during the last half century."

They are simple, sincere, earnest expositions of the old
truths applied to daily life. The tone throughout is paternal
and persuasive. Generally one can observe evidence that the
speaker had in his audiences some who did not belong to the
Church; and he sought to place Catholic doctrine before them
in its most winning form ; and we scarcely need add that not
the faintest trace of polemical acerbity is observable from the
first to the last page. All sermons, even the dogmatic ones,
are largely composed of solid, apposite, practical counsel on
the duties and dangers of life. And when he touches upon
duties or faults the Cardinal does not content himself with
generalities and abstractions, he speaks of living conditions and
characteristics ; and in this book one perceives a truth which is
entirely overlooked in many volumes that profess to set forth
the obligations of the Christian life ; namely, that the Catholic
has public duties as a citizen, which are no less obligatory than
his private obligations. The volume bears a very gracious dedi-
cation to the Sulpician Fathers of Baltimore Seminary.

Another excellent set of instructions for all the Sundays
of the year is that of Dr. McQuirk.* His plan has been to
produce an exposition of the Catechism of the Council of
Trent. Deriving from such a source, the instructions are sound
and solid. It is, perhaps, trying them too severely to take
them up immediately after the preceding volume. For the in-
evitable comparison accentuates the cold and impersonal tem-
per of these discourses. Here we have a book, a very good
book, but only a book. In the other case, we have the man,
in the book, where heart speaketh unto heart. It does not
follow, however, that this one may not serve some purposes
equally as well as the other. The published sermon may aim
at two different classes of patrons — those who read the sermons
for their own edification, and those who buy them to preach
them. This volume will find its sphere of service among the
latter class. It furnishes sound material which, when quickened

* Short Discourses for All the Sundays of the Year. By Rev. John McQuirk, D.D., LL.D.
New York : St. Paul's Library, East n8th Street.

822 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

The recording angel's ledger, prob-
MOLOKAI. ably, shows, but assuredly no hu-

man mind here can even roughly

estimate, the immense influence which the career of Father Da-
mien has had in removing from the mind of the non- Catholic
world, throughout English-speaking countries especially, its in-
herited prejudices, and replacing them with respect or sympa-
thy for the Catholic Church. That the attention of the world
was forcibly directed to the lonely, unknown Belgian priest,
toiling cheerfully amid the grim horrors of desolate Molokai,
has been due, chiefly, to two publications which, if bulk were
the index of efficiency, would cut a very small figure in the lit-
erary output of the age. One of these was the Letter to the
Reverend Mr. Hyde, written by R. L. Stevenson, over which,
as a classic of merciless invective and blistering sarcasm, even
the pages of Junius, or Jonathan Swift can assert no pre-emi-
nence. The other little book, which we owe to Charles Warren
Stoddard, is scarcely surpassed in our language, for tender sad-
ness and sweet moan. The new edition of The Lepers of Molo-
kai* which has just issued from the press, is, one feels sure,
but the second of a series that will stretch out, not till the crack
of doom, but for many a year to come, and, let us hope, past
the future day when the dreadful scourge which it wails, will
have disappeared from the scene of Damien's heroism.

We have heard the criticism made that just a little less art,
a little less feminine sentiment, would have been more in keep-
ing with the dreadful theme ; the unreflecting spontaneity o^
Defoe, which is too much absorbed by the sight of horror to
pause in order to make elegant phrases or produce a rhythmic
sentence, is the only appropriate style to describe a horrible
scene of human suffering. Perhaps; but this is a criticism of
the professional armchair. In the long run, however, it is not
the professional critic, but the world's estimate, which determines
the fate of a book; and the world of this generation, touched
to tears, has enthusiastically voted that The Lepers of Molokai
is a story that is to live in English literature.

• The Lepers of Molokai. By Charles Warren Stoddard. New Edition. Enlarged.
Notre Dame, Indiana: The Ave Maria Press.

1909.]

NEW BOOKS

823

It is high praise to say that the
THE ST. NICHOLAS SERIES. Life of Cardinal Allen, in the " St.

Nicholas Series " is worthy of the

hero and of the hero's biographer.* The saintly character and
the work of the man to whom, more than to any other indi-
vidual, was due the preservation of the faith in England dur-
ing the days of persecution, has been a congenial theme for
the learned English Benedictine. He relates, briefly, but com-
prehensively, the labors and trials undergone by " the Cardinal
of England," in establishing and conducting the seminaries which
supplied the courageous priests who wrought and died in order
to keep the light burning in England through the days of dark-
ness. With the frankness of the Benedictine and the scholar,
however, Dom Camm does not hesitate to make some reserva-
tions in his eulogy when necessary. While he fully recognizes
the devotion and ability with which the Cardinal personally
carried out, during his life, the arduous task of directing the
conduct of English religious affairs from abroad, he adds :

It is unfortunate that the incurable optimism which distin-
guished his character, and which made him cling to the last
to the idea that the reign of Protestantism in Kngland could
be but a transitory one, caused him to refrain from obtaining
for the afflicted Church in Kngland the greatest boon that
could have been given her, 2. e., a permanent ecclesiastical
organization. If he had provided that — at least after his
death — some form of hierarchy should be established in the
country, he would have probably saved us from the greatest
of all the many evils that then afflicted us, i. e., the divisions
and dissensions to which we have already alluded.

On another incident in the Cardinal's conduct, which has
had its defenders, Dom Camm pronounces an adverse sentence.
In 1587, Sir William Stanley, a Catholic, who was holding the
city of Deventer for the States who were in alliance with Eng-
land, surrendered his charge to the Spaniards, deserted the
English service, and carried his men with him over to the ser-
vice of Spain. Allen justified this action on the ground that
the States were rebels against their sovereign chiefly on account
of religion ; and that an English soldier could not in conscience

* William Cardinal Allen, the Founder of the Seminaries. By Dom Bede Camm, O.S.B.
New York: Benziger Brothers.

824 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

assist them against the Catholic King. This may be true, ob-
serves Dom Camm, and it might be well argued that the war
was an unjust one, but " it is one thing to resign a commission
and decline to fight in an unlawful conflict, and another to de-
liver up a charge confided to one's care." Dom Camm regrets
that Allen, though his intentions were pure, should have allowed
himself to be drawn into the political intrigues against his coun-
try. The consequences were not merely to smirch Allen's other-
wise stainless character, but also to inflict irreparable injury on
the cause which he had at heart:

Allen not merely defended Sir William's action, but took it
as an example of what might be expected to happen in Kng-
land, if the Pope would send an expedition to invade the
country in order to restore the Catholic faith. He implored
Sixtus V. to undertake this work with the help of Spain and
other Catholic princes ; and he assured him that posterity
would reckon this as the most glorious act of his Pontificate.
The result was tlie disastrous Spanish Armada, an occasion
which gave emphatic proof of the loyalty of the Catholics of
England, and of the short-sighted folly of those who sought
to restore the ancient faith by force of foreign arms.

The theme of this volume,* com-

HE CAN WHO THINKS HE posed of a number of editorials
CAN. that appeared in the Success Maga-

zine, is to impress on young men

the conviction that victory in the struggle of life depends
mainly on self-reliance, energy, industry, and the choice of a
congenial career or occupation. Dr. Harden inculcates the
value of these motor forces vigorously, and presents his case
from many points of view, enforced with illustrations from the
lives of well-known men who have, here in America, to use a
popular phrase, reached the top of the ladder. For the en-
couragement of those who must begin at the lowest rung he
points out how poverty has so often proved the spur which
started some of the most successful. He insists strongly, too,
upon moral fiber and honesty, without which, he argues, all
seeming success is a failure. There is inspiration in the book
for those who are starting on the struggle; though, unfortu-

• He [Can Who Thinks He Can; and Other Papers on Success in Life. By Orison Swet
Marden. New York : Thomas Y. Crowell.

1909.]

NEW BOOKS

825

nately, another book might be written in reply, charged with
an overwhelming role of instances in point, to prove that if one
would be magnificently successful in commercial life, as sue-
cess is measured by our popular standards, along with energy
and industry, he must also cultivate, not integrity, but flexibil-
ity of conscience.

The biography * of the inventor

SIR ISAAC PITMAN. of the most widely practised sys-
tem of writing the English lan-
guage, besides the interest it offers as an account of the in-
troduction and development of one of the greatest labor-saving
inventions of the last century, may be read with enjoyment by
all who love the story of a man who, for an idea, makes a
stout and victorious fight against difficulties. Though Pitman's
invention brought him both fame and fortune, neither of these
was his chief aim. He loved the art to which he consecrated
his life ; and, believing that it would prove useful, he spared no
pains, and when money came to him, he spared no expense, to
diffuse his system. One reads, in his case, the common story
of established custom calling novelty bad names without giving
it a fair trial ; and of how those who were at first the bitterest
opponents, while the new idea was weak and struggling, osten-
tatiously patronized it when it had succeeded in spite of them.
The book reveals a strong, upright, though not very rich per-
sonality ; and the advocates of the simple life have in Pitman
a fine model for imitation, or — a more frequent purpose — ex-
hibition. He was a strict vegetarian, never drank alcoholic
liquors, seldom tea, did not smoke, and had a pronounced anti-
pathy to the use of tobacco by others. A potato and a glass
of water was his share of the viands at that shrine of Epicurus,
a Lord Mayor's banquet in London.

He had the reward promised to the filial child in the Old
Dispensation, for he lived to be eighty- five years of age. His
strenuous efforts to popularize phonetic spelling have not been,
as yet — and we are among those who sincerely hope never
will be — crowned with success. The hunter after coincidences,
and the investigator of heredity, will be attracted by a curious
fact related in a letter reproduced in the book. The writer was
Dr. Thomas Hill, of Harvard University. He relates that there

* The Life of Sir Isaac Pitman (Inventor of Phonography). By Alfred Baker. New York :
Isaac Pitman & Sons.

826 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

lived in Somerville, Mass., a man named Isaac Pitman, who
was an enthusiastic phonographer. The two namesakes were
ot the same age, born on opposite sides of the Atlantic, of no
known relationship, with the same zeal for shorthand, the same
devotion to Swedenborg, and with the same adherence to two
or three other "isms."

The innumerable friends of the

HENRY VAN RENSSELAER, late Father Van Rensselaer will be
SJ. delighted to find that the noble

priest's name and character have

been presented in a cleverly written biography.* The biographer
had to record no striking events, no conspicuous work, either in
the intellectual or the missionary field, but the simple story of
ordinary priestly duty done long and faithfully, with a love for
God and a love for men that made the name of this son of the
Dutch Patroons according to the flesh, and of St. Ignatius ac-
cording to the spirit, a household word among those who knew
him. The most interesting portion of the book is that which
relates his conversion and the events that preceded it. Many
letters of Father Van Rensselaer to friends and to his mother
from Oxford, before his conversion, are of special value, as
they afford a glimpse of conditions that prevailed there after
the exodus of Newman and his friends.

If the spirits of the blessed are
JOAN OF ARC. still capable of earthly preferences

and affections, one cannot but think

that the soul of Joan of Arc, in her heavenly home, entertains
a grateful tenderness for Scots and Scotland. Of all the nation-
alities with which she came in contact during her stormy ca-
reer— French, Burgundians, English, Scotch — the sons of " the
leal Northern land" alone, whether men of war, with sword
and halbert, or men of the Gospel, like Bishop John Kirk-
michael, stood staunchly by her through good repute and in
evil repute. When, after her death, the battle of pens arose
concerning her character, Scotchmen again, among the chroni-
clers of that age, proved her unfailing champions. And while,
long after, our own good Dr. Lingard declared her to be a
mere visionary, who " mistook for realities the workings of her

*Lifoand Letters of Henry Van Rensselaer, S.J. By Rev. Edward Spillane, SJ. New
York : Fordham University Press.

1909.]

NEW BOOKS

827

own imagination," who but David Hume, the arch- sceptic from
whom agnosticism draws its favorite weapons to assail the mirac-
ulous, was the first among celebrated men of letters to acknowl-
edge the nobility of Joan's character and the splendor of her
career !

Have we a confirmation of the adage that " blood will tell "
in the fact that now, when the controversy concerning Joan is
once more active, another Scotchman enters the academic arena
to do doughty and effective battle for her whom one of his
countrymen among the chroniclers called the " puella a Spiritu
Sancto excitata"? Making a present of this question to the
psychologists interested in the problem of heredity, we arc
content to remark that the life of Joan, just published by An-
drew Lang,* takes its place, with all due respect to Mr. Low-
ell's work, as the most complete and critical English work on
the subject.

The book is on a generous scale. It contains close upon
four hundred large pages, fifty of which are filled with inter-
esting appendices and closely printed notes of reference. The
narrative, accurate and detailed, flows along smoothly, in the
easy, colloquial style familiar to Mr. Lang's readers. It is oc-
casionally interrupted, as Mr. Lang's readers would expect, by
perhaps unduly protracted discussions upon some unimportant
question of fact or documentary evidence; for the author of
the Casket Letters dearly loves to wrestle with an historical
puzzle. From the beginning Mr. Lang stoutly combats the
theory that Joan's visions were mere subjective hallucinations,
or, as the more recent form of the theory has it, the results of
hypnotism. He shows that neither " trance " nor " ecstasy "
can be offered as an explanation of the visions. " The pecu-
liarity of her visions is that they never interfered with her
alert consciousness of her surroundings, as far as the evidence
goes. She heard them on the scaffold, where men preached at
her, with the cart waiting to carry her to the fire; and she
heard them as distinctly as she heard the preacher whose in-
solence she interrupted."

Against the attacks of Anatole France Mr. Lang defends
the value of the records of the Trial of Rehabilitation. There
was, he admits, a woeful failure in that process to refute many

* The Maid of France. Being the Story of ihe Life and Death »f Jeanne d "Arc. By An-
drew Lang. New York: Longmans, Green & Co.

828 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

slanders and misrepresentations that remained untouched, but
" that the judges cut and garbled the replies to the questions ac-
tually put is a mere baseless assertion." The theory of "in-
doctrination," first broached in 1730, by a certain Beaumar-
chais, and rehabilitated in " scientific " form by Anatole France,
Mr. Lang riddles through and through by a careful presenta-
tion of facts. This theory is, in substance, that the Maid was
an enthusiast who was completely under the control of a crafty
ecclesiastic, Brother Richard, or somebody else. On his assur-
ance she believed herself to be a saint to whom were vouch-
safed supernatural visions. Her director or directors took good
care to suggest of what nature the visions and the instructions
and orders which accompanied them should be. The king and
his counsellors saw the advantage that might be gained from a
belief that God had sent a special messenger to retrieve the
royal cause; and, consequently, they assiduously, skillfully, and
successfully fostered the delusion. Mr. Lang furthermore dem-
onstrates that, in the hands of its recent exponents, the hy-
pothesis is self- contradictory. For they admit, inconsistently,
the evidence which proves Joan to have been conspicuously
independent of clerical influences.

In his final appreciation of the nature of the voices and
visions of Joan, Mr. Lang reviews briefly the opinions of the
eminent neuropathologist, Dr. Dumas, who leans to the hypo-
thesis that these were the outcome of sub-consciousness. What,
by the way, do not the inexhaustible mysteries of self- con-
sciousness explain, when boldly drawn upon as they are now-
adays ? But Mr. Lang very pertinently asks : What do we
mean by unconscious thinking ? And he proceeds to affirm that
to answer the question lies beyond the powers of psycholog-
ical science at present. Nor does Mr. Lang attempt himself to
solve the problem of the nature of Joan's visions — a problem
which he considers to be outside the scope of an historical
treatise, the object ol which is to relate, establish, and cor-
relate the facts. The facts he has shown are established, ex-
plain them as you will. His own belief is clearly enough ex-
hibited through the course of the book, and briefly indicated
towards the end:

I am inclined to think that in a sense not easily defined,
Jeanne was " inspired, " and I am convinced that she was a

1909.] NEW BOOKS 829

person of the highest genius, of the noblest character. With-
out her genius and her character, her glimpses of hidden
things (supposing them to have occurred) would have been
of no avail in the great task of redeeming France. Another
might have heard Voices offering the monitions; but no
other could have displayed her dauntless courage and gift of
encouragement ; her sweetness of soul ; and her marvelous
and victorious tenacity of will.

The special merit of the work is that it exposes the manner
in which, here as in many other historical fields, writers who
profess to be above all things impartial, objective, " scientific,"
ignore, distort, misread unimpeachable evidence, and manipu-
late facts, to twist evidence and fact to fit their a priori prin-
ciples.

We are indebted to Dr. Barden-

PATROLOGY. hewer and to Dr. Shahan for an

excellent work in the study of

Early Church History. The Patrologie* of Bardenhewer was
brought out by Herder in 1894, and republished in a new
edition in 1901. The success of the work was immediate, hav-
ing been received by all critics, Catholic as well as non- Cath-
olic, with great favor, and soon it was considered one of the very
best studies on the Fathers and Patristic Literature. The
translation of Dr. Shahan is made from the second edition of
the Patrologie and is excellently done. The only additions
made to Bardenhewer's original work are in the bibliographical
sections, where Dr. Shahan has incorporated some references
from the recent French and Italian translations of this same
work. This exhaustive study of the Fathers will be of great
benefit to all students of Church History; in fact, is bound to
supplant the few brief works we have on the subject of Patrol-
ogy and to become a sort of Vade Mecum for all instructors
in that particular branch of study. It is for advanced students
and instructors that the work will have greatest value. The
average reader would desire that the biographical and biblio-
graphical sections of the book were sacrificed somewhat for
the sake of a more extended philosophic© historical treat-
ment of the age of the Fathers. A "general conspectus," it
is true, is given at the beginning of different sections, but

* Patrology. By Otto Bardenhewer, D.D., Ph.D. Translated by Thomas J. Shahan,
D.D. St. Louis : B. Herder.

830 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

given in space exceedingly brief, relative to the size of the
work. Still, all readers will find great stores of information in
this Patrology and will see that Dr. Shahan has done a great
service for English students by placing within their reach this
excellent work of Bardenhewer.

Not since the appearance of Fa-
LOGIC. ther Maher's Psychology has any

new philosophical text-book — and

many have been published — called forth a thrill of welcome
such as that which a perusal of Father Joyce's Principles of
Logic has inspired.* The author has deserved well of the re-
public of professors and students. The work adheres to tradi-
tional Aristotelian and scholastic principles, but it differs as
much from the conventional text-book as a dried specimen in
a botanical museum differs from a vigorous living plant. With
its assistance a scholastic student is equipped to present him-
self at any modern university examination and to hold his own
in the concursus. Though uncompromisingly loyal to scholas-
tic principles, Father Joyce recognizes that justice is not done
to those principles unless they are adjusted to the needs of to-
day. And Father Joyce has happily effected this adjustment.
While adhering to the traditional scheme, he takes note of mod-
ern details which the ordinary text-book never alludes to, or
touches on in an entirely inadequate fashion. For instance, in-
stead of being dismissed in a brief thesis, as a mere trivial con-
sideration, the inductive method is assigned six full chapters
in which are discussed the relation of formal logic to scientific
research; the function of observation and experiment; meth-
ods of inductive inquiry ; the scope of scientific explanation
and hypothesis ; the methods of quantitative determination and
the elimination of chance ; and the estimation of probabilities.
These subjects make up the second part of the work, and con-
stitute " Applied Logic " as it stands in Father Joyce's treat-
ment. This scheme will not, probably, escape criticism; for it
ignores the topics of the nature and criteria of certitude, truth,
the sources of knowledge, and especially the validity of testi-
mony. Certainly the work does not provide a treatment of
these important subjects, and for this reason it will not cover

* Principles of Logic. By George Hayward Joyce, S.J., M.A., Oriel, Oxford. New
York : Longmans, Green & Co.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 831

the ground that is mapped out in the traditional division of
our text-books. But it is becoming more and more evident
that, in view of the present methods of anti-Catholic philoso-
phy, the epistemological question ought to be taken up in
close connection with psychology, and no advantage is gained
by introducing it, in an a priori fashion, and with an inadequate
exposition, to the beginner in logic. Indeed one of the most
meritorious features of Father Maher's book is that it presents
the epistemological problem in as close relation to the psycho-
logical as is the concave to the convex in the circle. If we
take Maher and Joyce together they cover the whole ground
with the reservation of the questions of certitude, testimony,
and authority. The latter subject, however, is not treated with
anything like the necessary fullness in the ordinary text-book,
which contents itself with laying down one or two principles
that go but a short way towards introducing the student to the
meaning of historical criticism.

As presented by Father Joyce, Aristotelian logic shows it-
self in its essentials as fresh and vigorous as it was in the days
of the Stagyrite, and capable of assimilating with whatever
modern logicians have discovered of value in the way of ap-
plication or expression. The author has appended a set of ques-
tions on logic, borrowed from examination papers set at Ox-
ford, Cambridge, the universities of Glasgow, London, the Royal
University of Ireland, and by the Commissioners of the Indian
Civil Service. This collection dispenses the professor from the
not inconsiderable trouble of formulating such questions him-
self, or having recourse to Keynes or Welton. These questions
are invaluable from a pedagogical point of view ; for to wrestle
with them the student must not only make his own the in-
struction obtained from his Latin text-book, but he must also
develop the power to express his knowledge in current terms
and phrase — a power which is all too rarely cultivated.

"Who would not go to Palestine ? "

OUT-OF-DOORS IN THE asks Henry Van Dyke in his lat-
HOLY LAND. est volume,* and if one might ride

on horseback through green pas-
tures and by still waters — with the wonder of a new land to

» Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land. By Henry Van Dyke. New York : Charles Scribner's
SOBS.

832 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

feed upon day by day, and the wide and starry sky to lie down
beneath at night — who would say no ? It is the story of a
pilgrimage such as this that Dr. Van Dyke tells in the volume
before us. Its purpose ? — to meet that " personal and indefina-
ble spirit of place which was known and loved by prophet and
psalmist, and most of all by Him who spread His table on the
green grass and taught His disciples while they walked the nar-
row paths waist deep in the rustling wheat. . . ." The lit-
tle party of four met together in Jaffa, on the Mediterranean,
and with guides and camp gear set forth upon their journey
out-of-doors in the Holy Land.

From Jaffa to Jerusalem, as the crow flies, takes one through
a tiny portion of Israel, the northern extremes of Judah, and
at last to the city that is set upon a hill. From Jerusalem a
journey was made south to Bethlehem and still a little farther
to Hebron where the Oak of Abraham stands upon the hill of
Mamre.

Of Jerusalem, one finds prisoned in Dr. Van Dyke's words
the spirit of the city itself — that calm, sublime spirit of trag-
edy, of aloofness from the fates of the other dwelling-places of
men, even as the city looks down upon the plain ; an abiding
sense of the eternal and immutable in the midst of change and
modernity, and of that gray melancholy which broods upon the
walls that are wet with the tears of an expectant people. The
travelers' tent is cast in an olive- grove, outside the gates, whence
little journeys are made into the streets of the city, with its
squalor and its charm, over the course of the Via Dolorosa, to
the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and to the Dome of the
Rock, where temples have been building and destroying far into
the memory of man. Mizpah, to the northwest of Jerusalem,
where Samuel offered sacrifice to Jehovah and sent his people
down against the Philistines, and the Mount of Olives are also
journey-points.

There is nothing finer in the book before us than the chap-
ter on the Garden of Gethsemane. It is the scene of the su-
preme tragedy in the Passion of Christ and Dr. Van Dyke has
written of it with a simple beauty and tenderness which flow
only from a real sympathy in the truest sense of the word.

From Jerusalem Dr. Van Dyke and his party go down to
Jericho, but do not fall among thieves as did the traveler of
the Gospel. Thence they cross the Jordan into the land of

I909-]

NEW BOOKS

833

Gilead and journey up the river valley to Gerasa, the ruins
of a once proud city of the Decapolis. Recrossing to the west-
ern shore of the Jordan, they strike into the heart of Samaria,
passing through Shechem, nestling between Mounts Ebal and
Gerizim, Samaria and Dothan, where Joseph was sold by his
brethren ; across the plain of Esdraelon to Jezreel and Nazareth,
where Jesus was a child, to Cana of the Wedding Feast, and
thence to Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee. Dr. Van Dyke's
treasure-house is full of memories of the Lake, which is so in-
separably associated with Christ and His disciples, Simon and
Andrew, James and John, and he turns his face northward
again with reluctance to the Waters of Merom, to Dan of the
golden calf, to Caesarea Philippi, and, skirting the snow- crowned
Hermon and Lebanon, through the country of the Druses to
Damascus.

Those who know the author ever so slightly, will perceive
that something is lacking in the foregoing lines. It is ours to
confess — we have omitted it. The Doctor cast his flies, a Royal
Coachman and a Queen of the Water, in the Lake of Galilee,
and, later, in the headwaters of the Jordan, he took something
which was "doubtless Scriptural and Oriental" and, "so far
as there is any record, the first fish ever taken with an artifi-
cial fly in the sources of the Jordan." Who will find it hard
to forgive this angler's note of triumph ?

Between the chapters of his narrative Dr. Van Dyke has
placed the psalms which strike some sweet and [dominant note
and are suggestive of the lyrics which Tennyson cast between
his Idylls.

With the exception of the Poetry of lennyson and his pieces
of fiction, both of which belong to another class, Out-of-Doors
in the Holy Land will take precedence, we think, of anything
which Dr. Van Dyke has done hitherto in prose. Its greatest
charm is its power to draw one out ol himself far over the
seas; its wondrous rich descriptions, often of a lovely beauty;
and its language, made delightful by the breath of the Scrip-
ture itself.

The spirited little brochure* of M.

THE CHURCH IN FRANCE. Barbier, breathing courage and op-
timism, on the religious crisis in
France, has rapidly reached its second edition. Though he

* L *£glise de France et les Catholiques Frangais. Par Paul Barbier. Paris : Lethielleux.

VOL. LXXXVIII. — 53

834 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

permits himself no illusions on the seriousness of the situation,
he sees, on many sides, reasons for trusting that the worst is
past for Catholicism, and that the Church in France, though
she will have been sadly crippled in her material resources,
will emerge from the struggle stronger, more aggressive, and
more efficient than she was before.

He repudiates the charge sometimes made that one of the
causes of the anti-religious success has been the intellectual
decline of the clergy. They have not declined, he argues ;
and they are up to the requisite intellectual demands of the
day. They still enjoy, he contends, a high prestige in the eyes
of the people; and this prestige is destined not to wane but
to increase. The clergy of all ranks, he declares, have committed
an enormous fault in their failure to oppose to the anti-reli-
gious press a sane and able patriotic Catholic press, even though
it might have cost them some of the millions which, during
the last thirty years, they expended on their churches. It is
somewhat late now, he continues, to remedy this error. Never-
theless it is a good augury that bishops and priests are taking
steps to supply the crying need.

Although the French people do not like to see their priests
meddling in public affairs, nevertheless, M. Barbier believes,
the clergy have a splendid field for work that will increase
their religious influence, by coming out boldly, wherever the
occasion offers, publicly to combat those who disseminate free
thought and infidelity.

The laity, too, he says, have been misrepresented by those
who have charged them with being paralyzed by a narrow
formalism and supine indolence. He accepts the computation
of M. de Rivaliere who, in 1898, estimated that there were in
France ten millions of Catholics for whom religion is an affair
of importance (chez qui les preoccupations religieuses tiennent une
place importante). These ten millions proved their loyalty by
their conduct in the affair of the inventories; and in many
places are giving further proof by the prompt generosity with
which they are coming to the support of the clergy. The re-
sult of the present war will be to embolden both clergy and
people to fight more valiantly for their rights. The persecu-
tion has eliminated from the ranks a large number whose
presence was a weakness:

1909.] NEW BOOKS 835

There are now fewer routine Catholics, fewer hypocrites,
than in any former period. There are fewer egoists, fewer
cowardly spirits, fewer half believers, fewer formalists for
whom religion was only an attitude or a pose. All this is a
sign, not of retrogression, but of progress. I/et the French
clergy and laity march forward hand in hand to coming
battles ; they will conquer.

A double purpose has inspired

CARDINAL MANNING. Miss Taylor in her excellent par-
tial biography* of him whom Lon-
don's toilers called " The Good Cardinal." She aimed, and aimed
very successfully, at presenting the manner in which his demo-
cratic principles were exemplified in the part that Cardinal
Manning took in public affairs which fell within his sphere of
action; and in the views which he held and advocated regard-
ing some questions of moment with which he had not person-
ally to deal. The ulterior purpose of the writer is to hold up
Manning's life as a proof of the identity of Christian and
democratic principles — "a truth perfunctorily and theoretically
acknowledged, but disallowed in any true sense, by the ma-
jority of friends and foes of religion alike." " It is a truth,"
Miss Taylor says as she points her moral, " obscured and veiled
by the action of those who have again and again made of the
Christian Church an instrument of oppression, have striven to
turn it to their own profit; who have employed it in the in-
terests of a class or party, and have succeeded in partially
masking its character."

After an introductory chapter, Miss Taylor takes up the
subject at the appointment of Manning to the archbishopric of
Westminster ; and, passing without notice all those matters
which appertained strictly to his spiritual office or his private
life, she relates the part played by the Cardinal in the various
public questions through which he came to be known as a
friend of the working people, and of all who struggle against
entrenched injustice. Miss Taylor interprets her facts with
judicious comment, and exposes them with a frankness not less
than that of Mr. Purcell himself. She makes it perfectly clear
that the principles of the Cardinal meet with her fullest sym-

* The Cardinal Democrat. Henry Edward Manning. By I. A. Taylor. St. Louis : B.
Herder.

836 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

pathy, and that she desires her book to be an instrument of
propaganda.

Her ardent admiration for Manning does not, however, re-
strain her from giving judgment against him in one of the
famous controversies in which he was involved. When Gladstone
designated as "an astonishing error " Manning's assertion that,
until the publication of Gladstone's pamphlet on the Vatican
decrees, the friendship existing between the pair for forty- five
years had never been overcast, the Statesman, Miss Taylor
holds, was right and the Cardinal was wrong. In the course
of the dispute concerning the unbroken friendship, Gladstone
"cited, not without justice, its suspension during a period of
twelve years, as well as more recent accusations and counter-
accusations made and retorted in no moderate terms in regard
to the Italian question."

Miss Taylor's comments on the Cardinal's claim that, though
communication between him and Gladstone had been inter-
rupted for many years, he felt that his own feelings and he
believed that Gladstone's had undergone no change:

To imagine that a friendship, vulnerable, like all things
human, to influences from without, could remain unaltered
through twelve years of a silence broken only by outward
discord was in truth the vision of a dreamer, singular in a
man with so little of the dreamer about him as Archbishop
Manning.

Treating of Manning's poverty, the writer emphasizes the
fact that Manning was content, even glad, not merely that he
himself personally was poor, but also that the Church over
which he presided was poor.

For her, no more than for himself, did he covet wealth.
Poverty was in his eyes, a security for her energy and purity,
and he openly rejoiced that, in the richest of all nations, the
Catholic Church was poor. Unestablished, unendowed, she
was the more free to do her work. " My Church and I," he
once told Mgr. Darboy, " date, thank God, from the ages of
Christianity, when the Church was poor, but free."

To some other French ecclesiastics he addressed advice
which they probably treated as the chimerical views of a

1909.] NEW BOOKS 837

foreigner, which were ridiculously impractical. Yet subseqent
events show them to have possessed a prophetic character, hid-
den, doubtless, from both the speaker and those who listened to
him. " ' Go/ he told them, ' go, ask for freedom to share the
lot of the people; eat their bread, touch their heart, and con-
quer their souls for God.' "

Among the topics fully treated are Manning's change of
opinion regarding the Temporal Power of the Holy See; and
his ardent advocacy of the Irish agitation against landlord in-
justice. The Cardinal's change from having been a violent ad-
vocate of the Restoration of the Temporal Power to becoming
an earnest opponent of that aspiration Miss Taylor defends,
not on the ground of consistency, but in the spirit of St.
Augustine's maxim : " ' If I utter no word that I should like
to unsay I am nearer being a fool than a wise man.' " As
time went on, after 1870, the Cardinal perceived "that the past
could return no more " ; that the old dynastic world was mori-
bund, a new world of the peoples was replacing it; and that
if the Temporal Power was to be restored it would be under
new conditions. The reasons on which Manning's views rested
are stated very boldly, indeed, by Miss Taylor, as are also the
circumstances which .surrounded the appearance of the papal
Rescript against the Plan of Campaign in Ireland. In fact,
throughout the volume, the writer, as becomes the daughter of
the author of Philip Von Artevelde, displays an unmistakably
independent temper. She has done a service to the memory
of her hero by placing, in popular and attractive form, the
great human traits of his life before that large class of readers
who have not the time or inclination to peruse Purcell's two
large volumes.

Franciscan Italy has, of late years,

FRANCISCAN ITALY. become so favorite a ground for

the tourist, the artist, and the

traveler with an eye to future publication, that there would
seem to be little hope for one opening a new book on the
subject to find anything that has not been said before. The
writer of this dainty little volume* does not, certainly, furnish
any historical or critical information that has not already been
made public property. He relates his own journeys to, and
his brief sojourns in, a few of the famous Franciscan monaster-

* Pilgrim Walks in Franciscan Italy. By Johannes Jorgensen. St. Louis : B. Herder.

338 NEW BOOKS [Mar.,

ies of Northern Italy. He has enough acquaintance with art
to appreciate the various treasures that have passed under his
notice, and enough good judgment not to attempt any lengthy
descriptions of them. He has suffused his pages with the glow
of feeling which he experienced as he shared the hospitality
and the devotional exercises of the sons of St. Francis at Fonte
Colombo, Greccio, La Foresta, Assisi, Cortona, and the Holy
Mountains. For example:

I think I may say that in the course of my life I have met
with much that was out of the common and affecting, yet
scarcely ever with anything that impressed me as profoundly
as those minutes of perfect silence among the Franciscans of
Greccio. As I knelt amid those barefooted, brown-habited
friars who, in the darkness, raised their hearts to Heaven in
voiceless prayer, I realized more vividly than ever I did be-
fore what the Middle Ages were — how far removed the twen-
tieth century was; how far away beyond the crest of the
mountains was the modern world; how remote seemed the
great, busy towns, with their glare and their noise, their
unrest, their endless round of amusements. Nothing then
seemed real to me but that humble little chapel of the poor,
primitive monastery, where the Sons ot St. Francis prayed,
gave thanks, and offered praise to the God for whom the
votaries of the world had scarce a passing thought.

As we accompany Mr. Jorgensen, who points out to us the
beauties of the scenery along the pilgrimage, through the vale
of Rieti, through Assisi, through Cortona, and are permitted
through his eyes to get an intimate view of the friars in their
ancestral homes, we are convinced that the spirit of the poor
man of Assisi still dwells among his brethren.

This second edition of Father Chis-

THE CATECHISM IN holm's Catechism in Examples * was
EXAMPLES. demanded, it seems, by the "un-

precedented success " of the first

— and by the almost universal demand for a reissue. Every
continent and every country, so the author tells us in his " Pref-
ace to the Second Edition," has sent requests for more copies,
and many members of the hierarchy, beginning with " his late

* The Catechism in Examples. By the Rev. D. Chisholm. zd Edition. In Five Vol-
umes. Vol. I. Faith— The Creed. Vol. II. Hope— Prayer. New York : Benziger Brothers.

1909.] NEW BOOKS 839

Holiness," Leo XIII., have praised the book without stint. It
is needless, then, for us to praise the work. We need only
concur in the chorus of commendations; and, for the benefit
of those who may not know what is the exact nature of the
book, say that it contains two thousand anecdotes, illustrations,
stories from the lives of the saints, facts from secular history,
occasional incidents and passages of Sacred Scripture, reports
of missionaries to foreign parts, and all such like matters that
will conduce to make interesting and graphic the otherwise stiff
and unimaginative lessons of the Catechism.

This latest of Mr. Oppenheim's sto-

THE MISSIONER. ries* opens in a fashion that might

raise hopes in the inexperienced

that they were about to enjoy the development of a religious
zealot or fanatic, after the manner of George Eliot or Walter
Scott. A young man invades an English village under the very
nose of its grand lady proprietress, to carry on a religious re-
vival. She forbids him, snubs him, and secretly falls in love
with him ; but she cannot or will not marry him. Of course,
she fulfills Mr. Oppenheim's ideal of beauty ; she is graceful in
her slender perfection, or perfect in her graceful slenderness —
we do not remember which, though we were told the truth sev-
eral times. The young missioner, whose vocation collapses sud-
denly when he finds how the wind blows, is, also of course, a
wonderfully athletic and powerful young gentleman, who, when
the occasion calls for it — we know from the very second page
that the occasion will call, will actually bawl for it — simply, to
use a rather colloquial phrase, but the right one for the nence,
wipes the floor with the heavy villain of the piece. After aban-
doning his missionary career, at a very early stage of the game,
the missioner, Mr. Macheson, rushes into the public haunts of
the London and Parisian demi-monde, the manners of which are
described with unnecessary detail. Mr. Macheson, who has
touched the pitch without becoming defiled, soon wearies of
this form of distraction, which he adopted only to drive out
of his head the image of his cruel goddess. At length the
mystery which had been keeping us in suspense from tke start
is dispelled; then the lady is free to obey the dictates of her
heart — and they lived happy ever after.

• The Missioner. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. Illustrated. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.

84o NEW BOOKS [Mar.

Mr. Oppenheim's character drawing is not very careful;
but he does not leave us time to reflect on this drawback. He
issues very heavy drafts on the credulity of his readers, but,
judging from the success of his works, and the rapidity with
which they follow one another, none of his paper is ever re-
turned to him bearing the sinister brand, N. G. And he de-
serves the praise of always inculcating morality, though the
ideals of some of his good people are not always sufficiently
strict in detail.

This is an earnest and forceful

LITERATURE AND THE presentation of the duty incum-
PRESS. bent on all Catholics to encourage

and contribute to the spread of

good literature,* especially of good magazines and newspapers.
" If," says the bishop, " the press is such a power for good
and answers to the most urgent needs of our time, charity and
the obligation to do good to our neighbor impose upon us the
duty of employing it to that end"; to use our influence "that
the productions of a good press be widely disseminated and to
lessen those of bad tendency which sow the seeds of evil and
foster crime." He advocates the formation of associations for
increasing the circulation of good periodicals and urges the
clergy to take an active part in this apostleship of the press,
quoting from the great German Catholic leader, Windthorst,
that " the priest preaches once a week, the newspapers every
day," and shows what has been accomplished in Germany by
the efforts of Catholics for the uplifting and spread of the Cath«
olic press. " The Crusade of the press to ransom not the
stones where lay the body of Christ, but the souls redeemed
by His precious blood, is to be considered under a double as-
pect, the crusade by means of the press and the crusade for
the press."

We may add that the book bears eloquent testimony to the
zeal of [the author, his spirit of fervent piety and wide range
of reading.

» La Cruzada de la Bucna Prensa. By D. Antolin Pelaez, Bishop of Jaca. Barcelona:
Gusiaro Gili.

jforeion periodicals*

The Tablet (16 Jan.): The recent "Board of Trade" returns,
while showing a slight increase in imports, indicate a
heavy falling off in exports amounting to forty- eight
millions of pounds for the year. Commenting on this
the Morning Post says that " it exceeds even the worst
expectations." Abbot Gasquet, writing on "Arch-
bishop Morton and St. Albans," brings further evidence
to bear on the vexed question of the moral condition of
the Abbey at the time of the Archbishop's visitation.

In a speech at Birmingham Mr. Churchill made a

violent attack upon "The House of Lords." Referring
to Protection, he said : " If they want a speedy dis-
solution they know where to find one." A very in-
teresting series of articles, "About Glastonbury," is
being contributed by Mgr. Moyes. The present one
deals with the restoration of Dunstan to his position as
Abbot, by King Edmund.

(23 Jan.) : " Unionists and Free-Fooders." As the next
General Election approaches, the Unionist party finds
itself facing the difficulty, What is to be the attitude of

the party on Tariff- Reform ? " The Rev. Mr. Campbell

and the Drapers." Mr. Campbell, of New Theology fame,
having made the statement that women engaged in drap-
ers' shops in London were obliged to lead immoral lives,
on account of their small pay, has been asked to prove
it. Having refused to do so he is threatened with an
action. "Women's Suffrage." An editorial is devot-
ed to this subject, and the conclusion arrived at is fav-
orable to the granting of the franchise. Father Thurs-

ton, SJ., tells the story of the letter alleged to have
been written from Jerusalem by the Blessed Virgin to
the people of Messina. He treats it under the heading
" Messina's Buried Palladium." In a curious corres-
pondence as to "The Order of Corporate Reunion," the
text of the original manifesto is given and the question
asked, Are there any " second generation Bishops " ?

The Month (Jan.): Did "John Milton" die a Catholic? This
question Father Thurston answers in the negative. He
died, as he lived, the incarnation of Protestantism, hold-

842 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Mar.,

ing to a system in which divorce and polygamy found
a place. He was a monument of egoism and would have
accepted no religion unless it were one in which he were

a Pope. "The Main Problem of the Universe," by

the Editor, presents the teleological doctrine of final

causes. There is a prevailing notion that only in the

nineteenth century men began to give serious thought
to science. This J. J. Walsh, M.D., Ph.D., disproves by
introducing " Guy de Chauliac," who lived in the four-
teenth century, as the Father of Modern Surgery.

Other articles are : " The Pope and the Forty-Five,'1 an
account of the Jacobite rising. "A School for Scan-
dal," a reply to a slanderous work by a Protestant min-
ister.

The National Review (Feb.) : " A Diplomatic Reminiscence,"
by "Amateur," throws light on a period of international
politics in 1896, when, it is stated, Russia was tempted
by Germany, yielded, and was hindered from plunging
Europe into war by the timely action of the Procurator

of the Holy Synod. Viscount Llandaff contributes a

criticism and a suggestion on the " Educational Im-
broglio." In correction of the unjust Education Bills of
the Government, which aim to make the so-called na-
tional type of school universal, the writer suggests a sys-
tem that leaves secular education under the full control
of the State, but requires religious education to be com-
bined with it. "War at the Present Day" is repro-
duced from the Deutsche Revue. " The Ex- Landlords

of Ireland — Their Duties and Prospects" is an interest-
ing article, remarkable in its straightforward admissions

and conclusions. "A Plea for More Bishops" for the

Church of England is made by Rev. J. J. Lias, D.D.

"Canada and the British Navy," by C. P. Wolley.

In the department of "American Affairs," A. Maurice
Low discusses President Roosevelt's recent attack upon

the integrity of Congress. A. G. Boscawen writes of

the success attending the resumption of " Tobacco Grow-
ing in Ireland " and the possibilities for the same indus-
try in England. Writing of the so-called "Shake-
spearean Problem," George Hookham says in conclusion :
" While there is sufficient evidence to make us doubt, or

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 843

possibly disbelieve, the Shakespearean authorship, yet it
is not strong enough at present definitely to establish

any other theory." " The New Reforms in India " are

discussed by A. T. Arundel.

The Church Quarterly Review (Jan.): In "The Mind of the
East," Sir T. Raleigh, writing on the controversial ques-
tion of the British policy in Egypt and India, com-
ments freely on its merits and failings in the hope, as

he says, that truth may prevail. " Presbyterianism

and Reunion " is a further contribution going to show the
advances which the Church of England has made towards
corporate unity with the various Protestant " Churches."

" The Ornament's Rubric " has, the writer claims,

given rise to a voluminous literature. In the reports
recently issued by the Two Houses of the York Convo-
cation a permissive usage of vestments, subject to cer-
tain safeguards, is suggested; this, the article says, will
make for peace. The nature of the distinction be-
tween Christianity and other religions is the subject of

an article entitled " Revelation and Religious Ideas."

" Causes and Remedies of Unemployment." " The

Mohammedan Gospel of Barnabas,"— — "The 'Dearth
of Clergy ' in the Anglican Church," are among the
other contributions.

The International (Jan.): "The Future of the Race," by Dr.
Broda. Heretofore advanced civilization has ended in
the downfall of the people among whom it was devel-
oped; already evil forces are at work among ourselves,
can they be counteracted ? The writer answers in the

affirmative and proceeds to develop his theory. What

will become of "Austria-Hungary Without Francis Jo-
seph " ? Will she hold together ? Mr. Stead asks. The
answer is written on the map. Austria- Hungary will
become a new and a greater Switzerland. Dr. Tou-
louse, in " Insanity and Crime," contends that all habit-
ual criminals are more or less abnormal, and in con-
finement should be subjected to a course of training of
such a kind that they may again become useful mem-
bers of society. "The Social Transformation in Ja-
pan," says Dr. Bryan, is already on the way, and its
most significant feature is an eclecticism highly colored

844 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Mar.,

by British and American Influences. "The German

Tariff From the Woman Point of View," means increased
cost of production, increased cost of living, and woman
has to bear the heaviest share of the burden. What is
the remedy ? That power be given her to advocate her
own interests; that is, the right to vote.

The Crucible (Jan.): " Father Augustin Rosier and the Woman
Question/' deals with the elementary and secondary
education of girls, which latter is, in the case of many
girls, a preparation for their future occupation or vo-
cation. " Old Age Pensions and the Care of the Aged

Poor." In this Bill, the writer says, we have a most
important and revolutionary measure, still the amount
that can be received under it, namely a dollar and a
quarter a week, is, after all, only a starvation allowance,
and must, in many cases, be supplemented by private

charity. "The Truth About Ourselves," is an essay

from the pen of a nun. Everything, she claims, tends
to blind us in this matter and prevent us from seeing

ourselves as we really are. " Congress on Industrial

Training of Women and Girls." "Life of a Girl Stu-
dent at Oxford." "Intellect and Emotion in Music

Teaching," are found among other contributed articles.

Margaret Fletcher, in " Pilgrimage Pictures," gives

a descriptive account of the recent visit made by Eng-
lishwomen to his Holiness.

The Irish Theological Quarterly (Jan.): "Loisy and His The-
ories," by Rev. J. McRory, is an expose of the Modern-
istic platform and an inference as to its logical end.
The writer expresses his astonishment that Protestants
who still believe in our Lord's divinity can express sym-
pathy with such a Rationalistic religion. The scien-
tific side of the theology of " Penance " is dealt with by
Rev. P. McKenna, showing how order and harmony may

be perceived where before seemed nought but chaos.

" Dr. Gairdner and the Reformation in England," by Rev.
J. MacCaffrey, is an appreciative notice of Lollardy and
the Reformation in England, Dr. Gairdner's most recent
work. It dwells upon the demoralizing results of the
Reformation, as seen in Royal Supremacy and the right
of Private Judgment. Other articles are : " The Latin

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 845

Writers of Mediaeval Ireland," by Abbe Gougaud.

" Botanical Evolution in Theory and in Fact," by Rev.
T. J. Walshe, brings before us some of the views recently
advanced upon the origin of species in plant-life.

The Dublin Review (Jan.) : In " Mr. Chesterton Among the
Prophets," Mr. Wilfrid Ward gives us a review of the
former's latest work, Orthodoxy. The book stands for
a conviction against scepticism, for authority versus pri-
vate opinion, for orthodoxy as opposed to liberal the-
ology. The author arrives at his conclusions by fol-
lowing, in a popular way, the reasoning of Cardinal
Newman, i. e.t by the " cumulative argument," by the

" illative sense." "The Measure of National Wealth,"

by H. Belloc. In the writer's opinion none of the
current methods of estimating the wealth of a com-
munity are satisfactory. His conclusions are purely neg-
ative. In another article positive conclusions will be

drawn. " Catholic Social Work in Germany," is the

third of a series of articles dealing with this subject.
In it we are told of the founding of the Volksverein,
the history of which forms the history of the Catholic
social movement in Germany. Canon Barry's " Cen-
sorship of Fiction " is an apologetic for authority over
faith and morals. He deplores the tendency of the day

towards cheap and prurient literature. Other articles

are: "Eugene Fromentin," by Professor Phillimore.- -

"Modern Turkey," by Major Mark Sykes. "Du-

chesne's Ancient History of the Church," by Dom Chap-
man.

The Irish Ecclesiastical Record (Jan.): Opens with a review of
the position of "The Catholic Church in 1908." It is
clear, the writer says, that the struggle is no longer be-
tween Catholicity and the Dissident Christian Sects, but
between Catholicity and Secularism. In treating of the
condition of the Church a handsome tribute is paid to
the astounding progress of Catholicism in the United
States. The Editor continues his article on "Social-
ism and Christianity," dealing with the much- discussed
question as to whether a definite social doctrine is to
be found in the Gospel. It is clear, he says, that just
as our Lord does not consider poverty a thing to be

846 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Mar.,

recommended on its own account, neither does He con-
demn wealth as a thing bad in itself. "The Regen-
eration of Lost Parts in Animals and the Theory of
Matter and Form/' by the Rev. C. Gelderd, of Ushaw,
gives some interesting examples of the power possessed
by some animals of reproducing lost parts. The higher
we ascend in animal life, the more limited is this re-
generative faculty, until in mammals it is altogether lost,

save as we see it at work on the healing of wounds.

" The Notes and Queries " department is, as usual, re-
plete with valuable information.

The Irish Monthly (Feb.): Opens with an article on "The
Venerable Oliver Plunkett, Bishop and Martyr," by the
Editor. " Our Lady of Lourdes," is the English ver-
sion of the French hymn. "The Cure's Matchmak-
ing/' a story by M. C. Keogh. A. L. Pringle writes

of "Nova Scotia and the Acadians." In this ever

pleasing little monthly there is always to be found a

happy selection of verse. Katharine Tynan is the

author of "Erin Aroon." We note also "A Day in

the House of God," by M. E. L'Estrange. " The Good

Happy on Earth," signed by the familiar initials of M.
R., is a second view of the subject.

L Correspondent (10 Jan.): "The Unknown America" traces
the primitive civilization and establishes the point that
Christopher Columbus did not discover but only re-
covered the continent, for there was what may be called

"Primitive America." "The Economic Life and the

Social Movement" sets forth the rights and duties of
French Socialism, and over against it the Christian re-
ligion, which is really the religion of Humanity uplifted.

" The New Revolutionary Spirit " has as its prime

mover M. Georges Sorel, who is spoken of as the founder
of the revolutionary syndicate.

(25 Jan.): Writing on " Political Switzerland," Henri Joly
shows that, notwithstanding its democratic principles, it
has developed an aristocracy of money and can to-day
count its millionaires and its beer and chocolate barons.

"America of To-morrow," by Abbe Klein, gives a

description of San Francisco immediately after the earth-
quake. He contrasts the splendid work done at Berkeley

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 847

University with the scandalous condition of municipal
affairs as he saw them under the late mayor and his

chief of police. "Splendors and Miseries of Men of

Letters" — Chateaubriand, Balzac, Dumas pert, Lamartine,
furnish instances of authors who, notwithstanding their
splendid incomes, passed their lives in one long struggle

with financial difficulties. Other articles are: "Love

and Faith," by H. de Lacombe. "The Succour of

Messina after the Earthquake of 1783," by D'Estourmel.

Etudes (5 Jan.): "The Supernatural Mission of the Prophets
of Israel/' is a critical examination of A. Condamin, S.J,,
of A. Kuen's theory that the prophets were bands of
fanatics, the result of certain religious influences at work
among the Canaanites. He declares this to be pure

conjecture. Geo. Longhaye discusses the position of

" The Saints in History." Their influence is not to be
ascribed to their work as scholars, reformers, etc., but to
the fact that they were imbued with the spirit of Christ.

Commenting on "The Intellectualism of St. Thomas,"

L. Roure points out the importance, in modern thought,
of the question whether the infinite is possessed by the

intellect or by the will. "The Orthodox Eastern

Church" is an extended review of three recent books
dealing with the churches separated from Rome.-
" Revolutionary Justice," by Pierre Bliard, is a con-
tinued article.

Revue Pratique d* Apologetique (i Jan.) "The Training of the
Young for Liberty," is one of the most vexed questions
in the education of youth. To-day individual liberty
reigns supreme; indeed, it has well-nigh degenerated
into license. How this may be checked is expanded in

the article. "Christianity and Catholicism," by E.

Julien. Is Catholic Christianity the only true Christian-
ity? This, of course, Protestants deny. To establish
this fact Bossuet employed all the force of his logic, for
the Catholic faith is the proof a posteriori of the Chris-
tian faith. " The Narratives of the Sacred History,"

gives the work and mission of Elias and Eliseus.
(15 Jan.): "The Origin of Christian Apologetic," by M.
Jules Lebreton. One difficulty to be encountered is that
Christ wrote nothing, all we know of His life and teach-

g48 * FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Mar.,

ing we gather from the words of His disciples. How far
are their accounts worthy of our credence ? Modernists
say they cannot be believed. Catholic apologists prove

that they can. " Science, Religion, and Revelation,"

by Ph. Ponsard. In the eighteenth century the opposi-
tion of science and religion meant the opposition of reason
and faith, now the alliance between reason and science
is ruptured, reason and faith have joined forces, and both
have been relegated to the region of the transcendent.
Against the one and the other we find science arrayed.

" The Inquisition " is a letter by the Bishop of

Beauvais showing that for punishment of heretics by death
the Church was not responsible, and that the secular
power was alone to blame. The famous Constitution of
Frederic II. is referred to in order to prove that the
Emperor acted on his own responsibility and did not seek
the approval of the Church.

Revue Benedictine (Jan.) : D. A. Wibmart writes on the Tractate
"Noah's Ark," which, he claims, is the work of Gregory
of Elvira, dating from the middle of the fourth century.

That " Donatism " does not owe its name to Don-

atus, the Great Bishop of Carthage, but to Donatus,
Bishop of Casae Nigrae, is contradicted by D. J. Chap-
man. "The New Papyrus Liturgy at Oxford," by D. P.

de Paniet, gives the history of this papyrus belonging
to the seventh century, discovered in Upper Egypt, in

the ruins of a Coptic monastery. Other articles are:

" Studies in Orthodox Theology," by D. P. de Meester.

The first chapter is on original sin. " The Accusation

and Disgrace of the Carafa," a continued article, deals
especially with the charges brought against the cardinal.

Revue Thomiste (Dec.): Starting with the principle that "The
Bible is the Book of the Supematural in Humanity,"
Rev. P. Mercier gives a detailed study of the first three
chapters in Genesis, showing that the extremely anthro-
pomorphic character of the dialogue between God on the
one side and Adam and Eve on the other is clear jjproof

of the supernatural character of the book. Rev. P.

Hugon revives the old question concerning "The Active
and Passive Virtues." He deems it necessary to reiterate
the Papal warnings that have been directed in recent

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 849

times against those who unduly exalt the active virtues.
" Common Sense — the Philosophy of Being/1 by Fa-
ther Reg. Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P., deals with Dogmatic
Formulas and their value as opposed to the Theory of

the Modernists. "The Development of Dogma Ac-

cording to St. Vincent of Lerins," by Father Nicolas
Dausse, O.P. St. Vincent spoke on the one hand of the
unchangeableness of Catholic dogma and on the other
of the theory of development. Are these two views an-
tagonistic? The writer's answer is: By no means; and
he proceeds to reconcile them.

Annales de Philosophie Chretienne (Jan.): In writing on "The
Synoptic Gospels/' by M. Loisy, P. Chevalier says it is
a most remarkable effort of historical synthesis. It is real-
ly in the capacity of an historian and a savant that M.
Loisy has approached his task. He applies to the Syn-
optics the same critical methods he employed in dealing
with the Fourth Gospel, and now, as then, arrives at a
hostile conclusion. " Platonism in France in the Eigh-
teenth Century " is concluded. The views of Buffon,
Rousseau, Condillac, Saint-Martin, are exposed. The last
words are a quotation in the form of an eulogy by La
Harpe, who says that of all the ancient philosophers,

Plato was the most brilliant. "The Theodicy of Fene-

lon," by J. Reviere, touches on the passive elements of
his Quietism.

La Revue des Sciences Ecclesiastiques et La Science Catholique
(Jan.) : The seventh conference in the series " God in
History," by Abbe Roupain, is on the Resurrection of
Jesus Christ. The dogma is proved as against the evo-
lution theory of M. Loisy and the pragmatism of M. le

Roy. " The True Chronology of Our Savior Jesus

Christ," by M. Levier. The conclusion 'arrived at is that
Jesus was born on the 25th of December, in the year

745 of Rome. " Eucharistic Traditions." The author

takes his traditions from the works of St. Augustine.
Among the subjects dealt with are : Frequency of Com-
munion; Mode of Communion Under Two Species:

Communion of Children ; the Excommunicate. " The

Search for a Plastic Intermediary," is an account given
by M. le Chan. Gombault of the attempt made by cer-
VOL. LXXXVIII.— 54

850 ' FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Mar.,

tain occultists to discover an astral fluid which will serve as
an intermediary between spirit and matter, soul and body-

Revue du Monde Catholique (i Jan.): "The Voice of Canada,"
by A. Savaete, deals especially with the instruction given

at Laval University. "The French Apologists of the

Nineteenth Century," by R. P. At, expands the three
theological virtues and marriage as the foundation of the

family. M. Sicard furnishes two articles : " Woman

and Her Mission"; also "The French Clergy Since the

Concordat of 1801." "The Critic of Critics/' by F.

J. Constant, O.P., is concluded.

(15 Jan.): Abbe Bajon, in "The Supply of Clergy,"
offers several suggestions as to the way of meeting an
increasing demand with a decreasing supply. Provincial
seminaries is one, another is the setting free of those
clergy known as canons titular for work in more ex-
tended fields. Other articles are: "Letters of Louis

XIII. to his Mother." "Save the Parish," by P.

Camillus. Frederic Masson writes in reply to " The

Heart of Feminism," deploring the effects of the move-
ment and its evil influences on society at large.

Biblische Zeitschrift (I.): Dr. Steinmetzer, Prague, writes on
" The Holy Oil of Unction " of the Old Testament and
on God's prohibition not to anoint the flesh of man with
it nor to reconsecrate it (Exodus 30). He holds that
this prohibition did not include the anointing of kings
and the remixing of a necessary supply. The Jews after
the exile did not anoint their priests, but this was the
result of a complete change of their political and reli-
gious conditions, while the rabbis explained this with

the above prohibition. Dr. Landersdorfer, O.S.B.,

Munich, tries to overcome "The Difficulties in St. Luke's
Record of the Annunciation," by going back to the prob-
able Hebrew wording of the conversation between Mary
and the angel. The Hebrew phrase corresponding to
' Thou shalt conceive " may refer either to the future or
the past (e. g., Gen. xvi. 2). Mary now may have under-
stood it as referring to the past, and therefore asked an
explanation, since she had not [known man. This ex-
planation makes the unwarranted hypothesis of a per-
petual vow of chastity unnecessary. Dr. Ephr. Baum-

gartner, O.M., explains the number "seven" of the

1909.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 851

deacons in the primitive Church in Jerusalem by refer-
ring to Deut. xvi. 1 8, and to Josephus, who relates that
the Jews had in every town a committee of seven men,
directors or judges.

Die Kulttir (Jan.) : Monsignor Baron de Mathies, "In the Re-
vival of the Liturgical Sense," points out how the Lit-
urgy in its broadest sense may be said to lie at the

base of all religion. In connection with a question of

great moment Dr. Franz Walter defends the affirmative
reply to the query: "Is the Sexual Enlightenment of

Youth a Necessity of the Present Day ? " F. M. L.

Wornovich, in " The Struggle on the Frontiers of Lika
in 1809," highly praises the courageous stand made by
the inhabitants of Dalmatia to retain the dearest of all

human treasures — liberty. Other articles are : " A

Noble Friend of Nature," by A. Wimmer. " Citizen-
ship in Salzburg in 1808-9," by Dr. Lampel.

La Civilta Cattolica (2 Jan.): St. Anselm of Aostia. The Church
this year has been celebrating the centenary of the great
Bishop and Doctor of the Oriental Church, St. John
Chrysostom; but the Latin Church, and Rome especial-
ly, now comes forth to honor the memory of another
great doctor, St. Anselm of Aostia, Archbishop of Can-
terbury and Primate of England. " The Birth of Christ

and Poetry." Poetry substantially consists in the beauty
and interior harmony of the concepts and images. The
embodyment of all this is found in the Sacred Scrip-
tures— no religious language is more poetical than that
of the Bible.

(16 Jan.): "The Method of the Catechism." An article
showing the necessity for all to be well instructed in the
catechism, that they may be preserved from the con-
tagion of error and modern apostasy, and the method in

which the catechism ought to be presented. " Pagan

Esoterics According to Theosophy," is continued in this
number. As is also " The Birth of Christ and Poetry."

Razon y Fe (Jan.) : R. Ruiz Amado treats the Educational Con-
gress of London and various societies in America, Eng-
land, and Germany for ethical culture based on belief in

a personal God and disregarding differences of creed.

" Are Spanish Jesuits Ignorant ? " The answer to this
charge is given by A. Perez Goyena, in recounting their

852 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Mar.

work in 1908 in journalism, history, sociology, music,
pedagogy, exegesis, science. N. Noguer treats " Muni-
cipal Action and the Problem of Cheap and Sanitary
Housing." The question as to the legitimacy and the
limits of public intervention in such matters at once

arises, and various solutions are discussed. Seiior

Moret's speech at Saragossa is developed in its antagon-
ism to religion, really the liberalism described by Leo
XIII.'s Encyclical Libcrtas, and its dangers exposed by
P. Villada.

Espana y America^. Jan.) : P. Antonio Blanco begins his " Op-
portunity of the Catechism," apropos of the Pope's Chris-
tian-social teaching on that subject. " Godoy's Re-
forms," especially in religious matters, which contributed
largely to his unpopularity, are treated by P. B. Mar-
tinez. An appeal for the making uniform of our "Phil-
osophical Technology," is made by F. Martinez y Gar-
cia. The offering of the Spanish-American banners to

" The Virgin of the Pillar " is praised by P. D. V. Gon-
zalez. "The Religion and Morals of the Chibchas," a

people dwelling in the neighborhood of Bogota, are de-
scribed by P. Rodriquez. The ancient customs prevail

amongst them to an astonishing degree. P. E. Ne-

grete continues his article on " The ^Estheticism of St.
Augustine."

(15 Jan.): P. G. Martinez, continuing his " Biography of
an Heresiarch," shows that Luther's teachings were de-
structive of the foundations of morality. " The Ob-
jective Progress of Revelation According to the Modern-
ists," is proved fallacious by M. Gonzalez. This system

endeavors to reconcile immanence with agnosticism.

' The Discourse of Moret in Zaragossa," pronouncing
the Church's doctrine of charity to be the only remedy

for social evils, is continued by P. A. de los Bueis.

F. Olmeda answers some objections to his former ar-
ticle on " Church Music," and further explains the pur-
port of the Motu Proprio. Those interested in hyp-
notism, spiritism, occultism, and semi-insanity from a
scientific viewpoint, will find food for reflection in P.
Angel Gago's " Problems of Psychiatry and Legal Medi-

Current Events.

In Russia and in Austria it has not
France. been uncommon for the students of

the Universities to give expression

to their immature opinions on political and other questions by
various forms of disturbances. The services of the police, and
even of the military, have not infrequently been required, and
for longer or shorter periods universities have had to be closed.
The same disease is invading France. The medical students, as
well as some of the students of the Sorbonne, have given vio-
lent expression to their feelings of dissatisfaction. No long
time, however, was taken in bringing these tumultuous assem-
blages to quietude; although the military and the police had
to be called out, and many arrests made.

The increase in crime in France, and its loathsome and
terrible character, seems to show that the non- religious educa-
tion which has been adopted by the country has not had the
good effect which was anticipated. It has, however, brought
about one result. Public opinion, in opposition to the wishes
of the President and the government, has called for the in-
fliction of the death penalty, which has been for many years
practically abolished. For the first time for many years, capi-
tal sentences have been carried out, and as executions, when
they do take place, are in public, they were witnessed by an
enormous crowd, made up of every class of society, who, it is
said, alternately howled and cheered. The headsman was
greeted with loud applause. The conduct of the large assem-
blage was disgusting and throws an instructive light upon the
character of the populace which has abolished religious institu-
tions. The Chamber of Deputies itself had to listen at the
opening of its last Session to an address delivered by one of
the minority, in which the moral state of France was declared
to be characterized by the unbridled selfishness and overween-
ing vanity of the new generation. The family, the speaker
said, was being ruined. It would be well to paint on the walls
of the schools: "Honor thy father and thy mother." "Thou
shalt not kill." " Thou shalt not steal." The formation of the
child's character was as important, at least, as any social reform.

354 CURRENT EVENTS [Mar.,

The attitude of the government towards those who alone
are able to provide the remedy to these evils, shows how bent
and determined it and its supporters are upon pursuing to the
bitter end the course upon which they have entered. The law
provides that no teacher in the primary schools shall say any-
thing which shall be obnoxious to the consciences of the children.
The Bishops, taking advantage of this provision, have organized
associations to prosecute in the courts any teacher who violates
this law; and have secured penalties for such violation. This
the government did not like, and a Bill has been introduced to
prevent what they call the undue interference of the parents or
guardians of the children. By this Bill the State is substituted
for the teacher, and the legal action must be brought against
it, thereby interposing a shield between the teacher and the
parents. With the same object another Bill has been intro-
duced, which inflicts penalties upon any parents or guardians
who shall prevent their children attending school, or using the
prescribed text-books, or participating in the instruction on
prescribed subjects. Any one who preaches a sermon, or pub-
lishes a placard, or writes a pastoral letter, inciting to a breach
of these provisions is made punishable by imprisonment for
from three months to two years. This is how liberty is under-
stood in France. Not by all Frenchmen, it is true; for the
Journal des Debats condemns these proposals as inconsistent
with the rights of parents as guaranteed by the Fundamental
Republican Law of 1793.

While the army of France is said to be up to the mark in
every respect, many accidents and several sinister events have
led to widespread doubts as to the state of the navy. The
new Minister of Marine has seriously taken the matter in hand,
and his demand of a very large sum of money (no less than
forty millions of dollars) for necessary supplementary expendi-
ture, confirms these suspicions. It was thought at first that
this demand might cause a conflict in the Cabinet, but the mat-
ter seems to have been arranged, M. Picard's demands having
been granted.

The German Emperor is being very

Germany. closely watched, in order to see

how well or how badly he keeps

the silence with reference to political questions which he prom-

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 855

ised. Within a few weeks after the promise had been made,
word went abroad that he had given public utterance to his
views. At the annual New Year's reception of the officers
commanding army corps, his Majesty had read an article on
the political and military situation, written in one of the Re-
views by the former Chief of the General Staff. Fears conse-
quently were expressed of a renewal, in an aggravated form, of
the agitation which had just been put an end to. It was, how-
ever, soon authoritatively explained that the article in question
was read and approved of by the Emperor only in so far as it
referred to purely military matters. The new regime is, there-
fore, being faithfully kept.

Two events which have recently occurred will reassure the
minds of those who are anxious for the maintenance of peace.
It is too soon, indeed, to appreciate at their real value the im-
portance of these events, but they give good ground for hope.
The first is the visit of King Edward to the Kaiser. The fact
that the King was accompanied by the Under. Secretary of State
for Foreign Affairs, and that the latter had interviews with the
German officials, showed that it was not merely a private visit.
The outcome is said to have been, we do not know on what
authority, the settlement of several points of difference and the
removal of most of the obstacles to a complete understanding.
Undoubtedly the saner part of the people of both countries is
totally opposed to a war, but whether the saner part is also
the greater part it is not easy to judge; but if the Emperor's
great influence is now to be thrown on the side of peace, there
is no reason to think that it will not be effectual.

The second event is, perhaps, of even greater importance,
as the danger was more imminent. The conflict between France
and Germany, with reference to Morocco, brought the two coun-
tries not long ago to the verge of war, and no one knew but
that a like danger might recur almost any day. Now an agree-
ment has been signed by which the two countries mutually rec-
ognize and guarantee the respective interests of each other in
Morocco. This places that country outside the sphere of con-
flict, and so far dissipates the cloud in which their relations were
enshrouded. The fact that such an agreement has been possible,
indicates that a better spirit is animating the people of the two
countries, and this is of even more importance than the agree-

856 CURRENT EVENTS [Mar.,

ment itself. It may perhaps be taken to indicate that Ger-
many may co-operate more cordially with the rest of the
Powers in the peaceful settlement of the many Near Eastern
questions.

Not only in the Empire but in some of the States of
which it is made up, deficits have become the order of the
day. In Prussia the year 1907 closed with a deficit of nearly
eighteen millions of dollars. For the financial year 1908 it is
expected to amount to more than forty millions, while for the
year 1909 it is expected to amount to thirty-eight millions. It
is worthy of note that one of the causes of the excess of ex-
penditure over revenue is the loss which has for two or three
years been incurred in working the State railways. These
have suffered the same depression as the other branches of
trade, and the State, that is the tax- payers, have to bear an
additional burden.

Many people, if they had to name
Russia. a representative Russian, would

single out Count Tolstoy, whose

eightieth anniversary was celebrated a few months ago. Yet
he has been excommunicated by the Orthodox Church and the
celebration of his birthday interdicted by the State. A man
better entitled to be looked upon as a representative of Russia
was Father John of Kronstadt. This is shown by the effect
produced by his death. Sorrow was manifested throughout the
whole of Russia. Rich and poor, high and low, officials in gor-
geous uniforms, peasants with hardly any clothes at all, passed in
endless procession before his body as it lay in state. The Tsar
himself sent presents to adorn the bier. During the journeys
which he sometimes took through Russia, almost Royal honors
were given him, and people ran miles only to catch a glimpse of
his face. Many believed that he was able to perform miraculous
cures. His funeral was attended by twenty thousand people.
How far he deserved all these honors this is not the place to
discuss. All our concern is with the facts as an indication of
the mind of the Russian people.

The horrible state of Russia's internal affairs, and of its meth-
ods of government, has been brought to light by the discovery
of the doings of a man named Azeff. The various outrages

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 857

which have taken place in Russia, and which have shocked the
whole world, among others the murders of M. de Plehve, the
Grand Duke Serge, and the Governor of Ufa, M. Bogdanovich,
as well as two attempts at insurrection, were, if what is now
being said is true, originated in the police offices of the gov-
ernment itself. The officials engaged the services of Azeff and
paid him large sums of money to provoke the revolutionaries
to commit these crimes. Such is the accusation brought against
the upholders of authority. They do not, indeed, acknowledge
their guilt, but have arrested a former police official, who de-
clares his innocence and alleges that he is being made a scape-
goat. It is the part of a prudent man to treat these charges
as mere charges until further and better proof of their truth
is given.

The awful earthquake which de-
Italy, stroyed Messina, Reggio, and so

many other towns and villages, has

revealed in an unwonted way the thoughts of many minds.
Most prominently of all it has shown how close are the bonds
which unite all the nations of the world in practical sympathy
and effective helpfulness. Succor poured in from every country,
with the only exceptions, so far as we know, of Persia, Afghan-
istan, and the other States of Central Asia. As to the recipi-
ents of the help so lavishly given, nothing was wanting in the
gracefulness with which it was accepted. The effect of many
generations of Christian training was shown by the way in which
so many of the women of the country of the noblest blood and
most gentle training hastened to the scenes of disaster and min-
istered with their own [hands to the wants of the sufferers.
And while the funds entrusted to the administration of the
officials of the State were often rendered unavailable by the strict
regulations which were made, and, as a consequence, not a few
deserving cases suffered hardship, the funds which the Holy
Father devoted to relief, were wisely and promptly given to the
sufferers through the instrumentality of the clergy. The won-
derful organization and ready generosity of the Vatican have
been recognized even by the secular press.

But bad nature as well as good nature has also been re-
vealed. The chief burden of the work of clearing away the

858 CURRENT EVENTS [Mar.,

ruins and rescuing the dead has fallen upon the soldiers. Not
merely did marauders appear upon the scene, who had to be
shot, but the workingmen who survived, or who arrived from
the neighborhood, refused to work except for exorbitant wages.
The soldiers had consequently to do the work. Instances seem
to be accumulating which go to prove that some workingmen
can be as selfish as are some capitalists

While the overstrict ^regulations made by the Italian gov-
ernment deserve criticism, it cannot be said that it failed to
make adequate provision for the relief of the sufferers. Parlia-
ment was promptly summoned and six milllions of dollars were
voted. It speaks well for the state of Italian finances that no
new permanent tax has to be imposed or loan raised in order
to provide this sum. The surplus of the financial year 1908-9
is almost sufficient for the purpose. A temporary surtax of
one-twentieth, to be levied upon certain revenues for two years,
will make up the difference.

Of the many questions which

The Near East. Austria's action has raised in the

Balkan States, two seem to be up-
on the verge of settlement, while others, especially that of the
Serbs and of a Greater Servia, still remain ; nor is it likely that
of the latter a permanent arrangement will be made for many
years. In fact, seeds of disturbance have been sown in the
territories of the Dual Monarchy which may accelerate its dis-
ruption.

In a short time after the annexation of the Provinces, Aus-
tria was brought to see the necessity of making pecuniary com-
pensation to Turkey for the violation of the latter's rights of
sovereignty. To save Austria's face, however, this compensa-
tion was to take the form of payment for the lands which be-
longed to the Sultan as head of the State. Although this
agreement is not actually concluded when we write, the pros-
pect of its being accepted by both parties seems fairly cer-
tain.

An arrangement of a similar character is on the point of
being made between Turkey and Bulgaria. As compensation
for the loss of what had been left of her sovereignty Turkey is
to receive a sum of about twenty-five million dollars. This agree-

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 859

ment will have been made with difficulty and after long nego-
tiations. War at one time threatened to break out. All the
Bulgarians, it is said, are enthusiastic for war and look upon it
as inevitable. Negotiation had brought the two parties to an
agreement upon the principle of compensation; and differ-
ences existed only as to the amount, when Turkey made a
proposal for a rectification of the frontiers. This led to some
of the reserves being called out. Thereupon Russia intervened
and offered to pay to Turkey the difference in amount between
Turkey's demands and Bulgaria's offer. The former State was,
at the same time, to withdraw its proposal for the rectification
of the frontier. In this way a peaceful settlement seems to be
on point of being concluded between Turkey and Bulgaria.

What has all along been the most dangerous question still,
however, remains unsettled. Servia even more than Turkey has
felt herself aggrieved by Austria*s action, for by the annexa-
tion of the Provinces she is completely hemmed [in and domi-
nated by Austria, and the long- cherished aspirations for a
Greater Servia have been placed in danger of defeat. The out-
break of war has been imminent even since the annexation,
and as spring is the time when the peoples of the Balkans have
long been accustomed to enter upon hostile operations, the
advent of that season is looked forward to with grave appre-
hension.

All the Powers, with the exception of Austria and its
" loyal " supporter, Germany, recognize the justice of Servians
claim for compensation ; but how that compensation is to be
made passes the wit of all the existent statesmen to discover.
Servia claims a strip of land in order that she may have ac-
cess to the sea ; and that Bosnia and Herzegovina should be
granted autonomy under European control. To neither of
these demands will Austria listen. The only plan which holds
out a prospect of being even discussed is that freedom from
customs should be given to Servians commerce through the
annexed provinces.

There are two rival pan-Serb ideas, neither of which is likely
to be realized for a long time, on account of the maladroit
blundering of Baron von Aehrenthal. One idea is that cher-
ished by Servia of a Greater Servia, which would embrace all
the Serbs, whether within or without the Austrian dominions;

86o CURRENT EVENTS [Mar.,

of this Greater Servia the present kingdom would not neces-
sarily be the head, nor would it necessarily be a kingdom. It
might be a Republic, but it would be a single independent
nation made up of all the Serbs. The other idea is that all
the Serbs, both those within and those without the Austrian
dominions, should be united under the rule of the Austrian
Emperor. The Emperor is already King of Hungary; a third
crown would be placed upon his head, that of King of the
Serbs. But after Baron von Aehrenthal's exhibition of Austrian
governmental methods, no Serb outside will want to come in-
side. Brute violence wins no hearts.

In Turkey itself and its internal government things have
taken a turn for the worse, and the evil which many well-
wishers of the new regime apprehended seems to have come
about. The authors of the beneficial revolution which has sup-
planted Abdul Hamid, have themselves become intoxicated, as
is wont to be the case with the possession of power, and have
driven from office a Grand Vizier of large experience and well-
proved liberal views. He had shown his sincere desire to effect
reforms by setting aside that false patriotism which refuses all
help from outside when it is really necessary, and by calling
to his assistance from all parts men qualified to set the new
order of things on the right path. Finance, of course, is the
most important consideration. For many years Turkey has been
sinking deeper and deeper into debt; and has been unable
to pay even current expenses. It is interesting to note that
among works immediately to be undertaken is the irriga-
tion of the ancient plains of Mesopotamia. That he should
have been overthrown so soon and a new Grand Vizier, the
third under the new regime^ appointed, cannot but cause anxiety
for the future carrying out of these plans. Perhaps satisfac-
tory explanations may be forthcoming.

No settlement has yet been made

The Middle East. of the Persian question. Russia

and Great Britain are engaged in

making representations to the Shah urging him to re-establish
the Constitution ; but whether these representations will have
any result is doubtful, for the army, such as it is, is loyal,

1909.] CURRENT EVENTS 861

and wherever it is present completely overawes the supporters
of popular rights. Many parts of the country, especially
Tabriz and Ispahan, are in open insurrection, and anarchy is
spreading ever farther and farther. The Powers disclaim the
intention of any active intervention; but it seems very doubt-
ful whether they will be able to avoid it.

Absolute government may be toU
The Far East. erable when the ruler is intelligent

and benevolent. The late Dowa-
ger Empress of China may be ranked among such rulers, and
consequently its people were not altogether unprosperous. The
normal state in which this form of government reverts seems
now to have come about. The best administrator that China has
produced during this generation has been dismissed from office
through the machinations of a cabal. The reason alleged was
that " he is suffering from an affection of the foot, has a diffi-
culty in walking, and it is difficult for him to perform rules
adequately." He is, therefore, commanded to resign instantly
all his offices, and to return to his native place to treat his
complaint. Such care for his health is truly touching.

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION

IT is now somewhat over forty years since Father Hecker, assisted by intelli-
gent workers among the laity, established a Free Circulating Library for
the teachers and scholars of St. Paul's Sunday-School in New York City.
No expense was spared to get the best books. The object kept in view was
to provide for the intellectual needs, not only ef the children attending
school, but also to encourage the love for good reading among the young
folks. Library cards, finished on one side with white silicate, were arranged,
containing fifteen books, of which ten were selected from writers ot fiction
and five from biography, history, or entertaining books of adventure and
travel. At least one book devoted to the life of a saint, ®r some explanation
of religious truth, was assigned to each set. These cards, with the titles of
fifteen books and the names of their authors, were distributed on Sunday
during the recitation of the Catechism lesson. Under the guidance of the.
teachers, scholars made a choice of the books. By the aid of a number for
each book the librarians easily kept the account of the circulation. For the
return of books every two weeks the class was held accountable as well as the
individual. This rule directed attention in a public manner to the delin-
quents, who were promptly admonished by their own classmates.

Not to mention other obvious advantages, it may be claimed that this
method of supplying books gave the teachers an excellent opportunity to
elicit conversation about favorite authors, and to make the library a potent
influence in the mental growth and character-building of their scholars.
Each class became in reality a miniature Reading Circle, with the teachers in
charge, assisted by the librarians, and under the personal supervision of the
Rev. Director. From the graduates of St. Paul's Sunday-School, trained in
this way during their early days, came the first members of a Catholic Read-
ing Circle for women, in the year 1886. It was named in hon«r of Frederic
Ozanam, the gifted friend of Lacordaire, the leader of young men in w*rk
for the poor, who won conquests for the faith in the field of literature within
the nineteenth century. The object proposed for the Ozanam Reading
Circle was the improvement of its members in literary taste by meeting to-
gether once a week, in an informal and friendly way, to talk about books —
giving prominence always to Catholic authors — to take part in reading aloud
some of the best specimens of magazine literature, and to aid one another by
the discussion of current topics. At that time no society could be found in
existence intended to provide for Catholic young women equal intellectual
advantages, such as were secured for young men by parish lyceums and
literary unious. When the Convention of the Apostolate of the Press, held
January, 1892, in New York City, under the auspices of the Paulist Fathers,
brought together the pioneer workers for the Reading-Circle movement, it
was admitted that the Ozanam Reading Circle ranked first in date ot forma-
tion.

Rumors have been heard that objection was made to the Reading-Circle
movement because of its recent origin. As in the case of the young man who

1909.] THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION 863

promised to try to get older every day, this objection was long ago removed
by time. The underlying principle of co-operation in all departments of hu-
man activity may be traced a long way back in history. No one can doubt
that a union of intellectual forces extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific,
or vice versa, could develop a bulwark of strength for Catholic literature in
the United States. Any ©ne desiring the sanction of hoary antiquity for the
modern Reading Circle can find it at the University of Paris in the days of
St. Thomas Aquinas, when students made notes of his profound lectures and
afterwards read them aloud to their friends at the family gathering.
» » *

In the department " With Readers and Correspondents " of the CATH-
OLIC WORLD for December, 1888, appeared an unsigned communication
stating briefly the outlines of a society for young women having a mature de-
sire for an advamced course of Catholic reading after graduation. It was
suggested that the social element might be eliminated, as the work proposed
could be accomplished by interchange of ideas at meetings and by corre-
spondence among kindred minds in differeat places. This communication
was written in Milwaukee, Wis., by Miss Julie E. Perkins. Further particu-
lars regarding her valuable personal service in awakening latent forces for
the practical realization of her plan may be found in the " Tribute of Praise "
published in THE CATHOLIC WORLD, August, 1894, shortly after ker death.
She had very strong convictions that the Catholic people of high position in
social life were, in many cases, allowing the intellectual opportunities of the
present age to be monopolized by shallow, self-constituted leaders. Her
efforts to make known the enduriag claims of Catholic authors deserve per-
petual remembrance.

The request for a discussion of the plans submitted by Miss Perkins was
answered by numerous letters from readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, show-
ing that in the United States, in Canada, in Australia, and throughout the
immense area ©f the English-speaking world there was need of a wider diffu-
sion of the best Catholic literature. From reliable sources of information it
was estimated that thousands of dollars were annually spent by Catholics,
especially in the rural districts, for bulky subscription books. In order to
establish a central bureau for the guidance of the Catholic reading public, to
foster the growth of Reading Circles, and to secure a permanent combina-
tion of forces for the diffusion of good literature, THE CATHOLIC WORLD,
June, 1889, announced the formation of the Columbian Reading Union,
which was located at the house of the Paulist Fathers, 415 West Fifty-ninth
Street, New York City. An appeal was made for the voluntary co-operation
of those having a knowledge of books, so that guide-lists might be prepared
at small cost for those seeking the information thus rendered available.
Catholic writers were especially invited to take part in the new movement;
assistance was also expected from librarians and others qualified to make se-
lections from the best books published. Many individuals, as well as those
identified with Catholic Reading Circles, gladly donated small amounts of
money, besides giving their time and energy to make known the ways and
means of extending the influence of Catholic literature, and to secure a place
of deserved recognition for Catholic authors in public libraries. Some of the

864 J BOOKS RECEIVED [Mar., 1909.]

far-reaching results of the movement were indicated by the late John A.
Mooney, LL.D., Brother Azarias, .and other prominout Catholic writers.
From the beginning the Columbian Reading Union has been under the per-
sonal supervision of the Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., as indicated by his
signature of M. C. M. He wishes to take this opportunity to thank publicly
all who have gratuitously contributed to this department, and to request
prayers for the departed benefactors — especially the late Mrs. Margaret F.
Sullivan, of Chicago — who have aided more than words can express in the
altruistic work thus far accomplished through the agency of the Columbian
Reading Union.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

P. J. KENEDY & SONS, New York :

Sodality of Our Lady, Under the Banner of Mary. By Father Henry Opitz, S.J. Pp»

206. Price 50 cents.
FR. PUSTET & Co., New York:

The Princess of Gan-Sar. By Andrew Klarmann. Pp. 421. Price $1.50 net. Ordo.
Baptisimi Parvulorum. Pp. 16. Price 25 cents. Two Series of Lenten Sermons.
1. Sin and Its Remedies. II. The Seven Deadly Sins. By Francis X. McGowan,
O.S.A. Pp. 224. Price 75 cents net.
HENRY HOLT & Co., New York:

The Italians of To-Day. By Rend Bazin. Pp. 240.
NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW PUBLISHING COMPANY, New York:

The Banking and Currency Problem in the United States. By Victor Morawetz. Pp. 119.

Price $i net.
J. P. LYON & Co., Albany, N. Y. :

Eighth Annual Repott of the New York State Hospital J or the Care of Crippled Children.

Year Ending September, 1908.
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE, Washington, D. C. :

Physiological and Medical Observations. By Ales Hrdlicka. Pp. 425. Twenty-Second

Annual Report of the Commissioner of Labor, 1907. Pp. 1,562.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY, Boston, Mass. :

The Life of Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls. By C. W. Moores. Pp. 132. Price
60 cents net. The Fifteenth Annual Report of Craig Colony for Epileptics, Sonyea,
N. Y. Illustrated. Pp. So.
LITTLE, BROWN & Co., Boston, Mass.:

Our Benny. By Mary E. Waller. Pp. 102. Price $i net. But Still a Man. By Mar-
garet L. Knapp. Pp. 376. Price $1.50. The Bridge Builders. By Anna Chapin
Ray. Pp. 407. Price $1.50.
J. S. HYLAND & Co., Chicago, 111.:

The Pillar and Ground of the Truth. By Rev. T. Cox. Pp. 253. Price $z.
THE AVE MARIA PRESS, Notre Dame, Ind.:

The Coin of Sacrifice. By Christian Reid. Pp. 57. Price 15 cents.
FRANKLIN PRESS COMPANY, Pueblo, Colo.:

Life of the Rt. Rev. Joseph P. Machebeuf, D.D. By the Rev. W. J. Hewlett. Pp. 419.

P. LETHIELLEUX, Paris, France:

Souvenirs (1825-1907). Par la Princesse de Sayn- Wittgenstein. Pp. 182. Price ^fr. 50.
Derniets Melanges. Vbls. II. and III. Par Louis Veuillot. Pp. 620. Price 6 fr. La
Cnse Intime de I ' Eglise de France. Par Paul Barbier. Pp. 118. Price o fr. 75. Du
Connu a I'Inconnu. Pp. 87. L' Eglise de France et les Catholiqves Franc_ats. Par
Paul Barbier. Pp. 113.

GABBIEL BEAUCHESNE ET GIE, Paris, France :

La Religion des Primitifs. Par Mgr. A. le Roy. Pp. 498. Price 4 fr. Une Anglaise
Canvertie. Par le Pere H. d 'Arras. Pp. 212. Price 2 ft. Le Celebre Miracle de Saint
Janvier. Pp. 349.

BLOUD ET CIE., Paris, France:

Le Catholicisme en Angleterre. Pp. 256. Price 3 Jr. 50.

1909

THE

Four Celebrities—Brothers by Marriage

By the Waters of Babylon

Literature and Morality

Impressions of Islam in Constantinople

G. K, Chesterton

Is it the Turn of the Tide?

West-Country Idylls

In Sicily

New Books— Foreign Periodicals
Current Events

Wilfrid Wilberforce
feanie Drake
R. L. Mangan, SJ.
Maisie Ward
W. £. Campbell
Cornelius Clifford
H. E. P.
foseph McSorley, C.S.P.

Price— 25 cents; £3 per Year

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, NEW YORK

120-122 "West 60 Hi Street

PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., Ltd., Dryden House, 43 Oerrard St., Sobo^London, W

Pour la Prince et leg Colonies Francaises: ARTHUR SAVAETE, Editenr
Dlrecteur de la " Revue du Monde Cat holique," 76 Roe des Sainta-Peres, Paris

ENTERED AT NEW YORK POST-OFFICE AS SECOND-CLASS MATTSJ8.

MY SPECIALTIES.

Pure Virgin Olive Oil. First pressing
of the Olive. Imported under my Eclipse
Brand in full half-pint, pint, and quart
bottles', and in gallon and half- gallon
cans. Analysis by Agricultural Depart-
ment, Washington, showing absolute
purity, published in Callanan's Magazine.

L. J. Callanan's Eclipse Brand of
Ceylon tea eclipses all other Ceylon teas
offered in packages in this market, in
quality and flavor.

There is no better tea sold in this
country than my "41 " blend, quality and
flavor always the same. No tea table
complete/ without it.

My " 43 " Brand of Coffee

is a blend of the choicest coffees imported.
It is sure to please lovers of good coffee.
No breakfast table complete without it.

MY MOTTO, Everything in Groceries,
Altar Wines, and Cigars, everything of
the Best. A visit to my permanent food
exposition will pay you. Copy Callanan's
Magazine and price list mailed on request.

!«. J. CAIJLANAN,

4 1 and 43 Vesey Street, New York.

R A E S
LUCCA
O LIVE

O I Li

Is the perfection of

Olive Oil, made from
sound, ripe Olives,
gro.wn in Tuscany —
"The Garden of It-

aly." Its absolute

Purity is vouched
for by U. S. govern-
ment analysis.

SAMUEL RAE & CO.

Establish* d 1836,
LEGHORN, TUSCANY, ITALY.

SPRAGUE, WARNER & CO.,
Distnbuters,
CHICAGO.

SUBIIME

LEGHORN

Xo Consumers of

l-IOW

Brand
Condensed and Evaporated

MII-K:

Over $3,000 in Gash Frizes

Will be awarded to consumers of Lion
Milk on April i.

Your grocer has just received a new
shipment of milk which has a circular 1
around each can giving full particulars.

The quantity of milk which has these
circulars is limited, so vdo not fail to
buy some at once and secure a part of
this money.

Church Furniture

Altars, Pulpits, Confessionals, Pews,
Wood Carvings, In fact church furniture

of Every Description

Designs and estimates furnished

upon request.
Send for booklet "In Evidence."

American
Seating
Company

NOT IN ANY TRUST OR
COMBINATION

Chicago,
215 Wabash

Avenue
New York,

19 West Eigh-
tenthSt

Boston,

70 Franklin

Street

Philadelphia,
1230 Arch St.

Branches in all
parts of country

AP The Catholic world

v.88

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "The Catholic world"

See other formats