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CATHOLIC  WORLD. 


AP 

2. 

A      C3 

v.17 


MONTHLY  MAGAZINE 


OF 


GENERAL  LITERATURE  AND  SCIENCE 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  PAULIST  FATHERS. 


VOL.  XCVIL 

APRIL,  1913,  TO  SEPTEMBER,  1913. 


NEW  YORK: 

THE  OFFICE  OF  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD 

120  WEST  6oTH  STREET. 


CONTENTS. 


Albania,  Light  and  Shade  in. — 
Elisabeth  Christitch,  .  .  .  497 

Alfred  Noyes,  Who  is? — Elbridge 
Colby, 289 

Amateur  Bargee,  The. — Louise 
Imogen  Guiney,  .  .  .769 

Anglican  Benedictines,  The  Con- 
version of  the. — W.  H.  Watts.  331 

Assent  to  Socialism,  The. — William 
J.  Kerby,  Ph.D.,  .  .145 

Bergson  and  the  Divine  Fecundity. 
— Thomas  J.  Gerrard,  .  .631 

Bergson  and  Finalism. — Thomas  J. 
Gerrard,  .  .  .  .  -374 

Bergson  and  Freedom. — Thomas  J. 
Gerrard.  .....  222 

Catholic    Church,    Why    the,    Can- 
not    Accept     Socialism. — George 
M.  Scarle,  C.S.P.,       .          .          .     444 
Centenary  of  Frederic  Ozanam,  The. 

—William. P.  H.  Kitchin,  Ph.D.,     758 

Challenge  to  the  Time-Spirit,  A. — 
Thomas  J.  Gerrard,  .  .  -736 

Charm  of  Florence,  The. — Joseph 
Francis  Wickham,  .  .  .613 

Chatterton,  The  Mock. — Louise 
Imogen  Guiney,  .  .  .16 

Christendom,  The  Shepherd  of  All. 
— Joseph  Francis  Wickham,  .  Si 

Church,  The  Edict  of  Milan  and  the 
Peace  of  the.— William  P.  H.  Kit- 
chin,  Ph.D.,  ....  305 

Conversion  of  the  Anglican  Bene- 
dictines, The.— W.  H.  Watts,  .  331 

Crusade,  Lady  Aberdeen's. — Kath- 
arine Tynan,  ....  188 

Divine  Fecundity,  Bergson  and  the. 
— Thomas  J.  Gerrard,  .  .631 

Divorce,  The  English  Royal  Com- 
mission on. — W.  H.  Kent,  O.S.C.,  i 

English  Royal  Commission  on  Di- 
vorce, The.— W.  H.  Kent,  O.S.C..  i 

Finalism,  Bergson  and. — Thomas  J. 

Gerrard,     .  .  .  .  -374 

Florence,  The  Charm  of. — Joseph 
Francis  Wickham,  .  .  .613 

Flowers  of  Carmel,  Two. — William 
Vowles,  .....  802 

Frederic  Ozanam,  The  Centenary 
of.—  William  P.  H.  Kitchin,  Ph.D.,  758 

Freedom,  Bergson  and. — Thomas  J. 
Gerrard,  .  .  .  .  .  222 

Foreign  Periodicals, 

119,    260,    412,    552,    694,    838 

French  Literature,  The  New  Move- 
ment in. — Joseph  L.  O'Brien, 
M.A.,  .....  597 

Glimpses  of  a  Great  Catholic  Soul. 
— F.  Drouet,  CM.,  .  .  .472 

Hassard,  John  R.  G. — James  J. 
Walsh.  M.D.,  Ph.D.,  .  .  .349 

Hinkson,  Katharine  Tynan,  The 
Poetry  of. — Katherine  Bregy,  .  208 

Johnson,  Lionel,  The  Poetry  and 
Prose  of.— Elbridge  Colby,  .  52 


Lady  Aberdeen's  Crusade. — Kath- 
arine Tynan,  .  .  .  .188 

Laughter  of  the  Saints,  The. — F. 
Drouet,  CM.,  .  .  .  .  197 

Lavington  of  Manning,  The. — 
Louise  Imogen  Guiney,  .  .  587 

Light  and  Shade  in  Albania. — 
— Elisabeth  Christitch,  .  .  497 

Manning,  The  Lavington  of. — 
Louise  Imogen  Guiney,  ,  .587 

Meynell,  Mrs.,  and  Her  Poetry. — 
Katharine  Tynan,  .  .  .  668 

Milan,  The  Edict  of,  and  the  Peace 
of  the  Church— William  P.  H. 
Kitchin.  Ph.D.,  .  .  .  .305 

Mock  Chatterton,  The. — Louise 
Imogen  Guiney,  .  .  .16 

More,  Sir  Thomas,  and  His  Time. 
— W.  E.  Campbell,  .  64,  383,  485 

Mullakons,  With  the,  of  Siberia  — 
Richardson  L.  Wright,  .  .657 

Nations  Have  Knelt,  Where  the. — 
Joseph  Francis  Wickham,  .  .  161 

New  Movement  in  French  Litera- 
ture, The. — Joseph  L.  O'Brien, 
M.A., 577 

Poetry  of  Katharine  Tynan  Hink- 
son, The. — Katherine  Bregy.  .  208 

Recent  Discoveries  and  a  Review: 
Shakespeare. — Appleton  Morgan,  721 

Recent  Events, 

129,    269,    416,    560,    704,    847 

Renaissance,  The  Spiritual  Note  in 
the. — Evelyn  March  Phillipps,  314,  649 

Rome,  The  Spell  of. — Joseph  Fran- 
cis Wickham,  .  .  .  .321 

Saints,  The  Laughter  of  the. — F. 
Drouet,  CM.,  .  .  .  .197 

Shakespeare :  Recent  Discoveries 
and  a  Review. — Appleton  Mor- 
gan, .  .  .  .  .721 

Shepherd  of  All  Christendom,  The. 
— Joseph  Francis  Wickham,  .  81 

Siberia,  With  the  Mullakons  of. — 
Richardson  L.  Wright,  .  .657 

Socialism,  The  Assent  to. — William 
J.  Kerby,  Ph.D.,  .  .  .145 

Socialism,  Why  the  Catholic  Church 
Cannot  Accept. — George  M. 
Searle.  C.S.P.,  .  .  .  .  444 

Soul  of  Tuscany,  The. — Joseph 
Francis  Wickham,  .  .  -433 

Spell  of  Rome,  The.— Joseph  Fran- 
cis Wickham,  .  .  .  .321 

Spiritual  Note  in  the  Renaissance, 
The. — Evelyn  March  Phillipps,  314,  649 

Who  is  Alfred  Noyes? — Elbridge 
Colby,  .....  289 

Time-Spirit,  A  Challenge  to  the. — 
Thomas  J.  Gerrard,  .  .  .  736 

Tuscany,  The  Soul  of. — Joseph 
Francis  Wickham,  .  .  -433 

Two  Flowers  of  Carmel. — William 
Vowles,  .  .  .  .  .  802 

With  Our  Readers, 

141,    280,    428,    571,    716,    860 


CONTENTS 


ni 


STORIES. 


Green  Bags  and  Green  Ribbons. — 
Katherine  G.  Kennedy,  .  .  232 

Lead  Us  Not  Into  Temptation. — 
Pia  Robinson,  .  .  .74 

The  Image  of  Our  Lady. — Jane 
Hall,  .  .  .  .  .812 


The  Rainbow  Crystal. — Jeanie 
Drake, 360 

The  Rector's  Restitution. — Grace  V . 
Christmas,  .  .  .  .781 

The  Red  Ascent.— Esther  W.  Neill, 

92,  173,  336,  454,  594,  746 

The   Song.— T.  B.  Reilly,        .          ,     623 


POEMS. 


An    Appeal. — Eleanor   Doivning, 
A    Painter's    Vision. — Caroline    D. 

Swan,         .          . 
Canon  for  the  Repose  of  the  Mother 

of     God. — Translated     from     St. 

John   Damascene, 
Co'imbra     of     the     Hills. — Thomas 

Walsh,        .          . 


799 


172 


45 


622 


Encompassed. — Charles    L.    O'Don- 

nell,    C.S.C.,        .... 
If  Youth  Could  Only  Know. — Emily 

Rickey, 

In     Memoriam :      Father     Doyle. — 

Maurice  Francis  Egan, 
Poets. — Joyce  Kilmer,    . 
Stars. — Joyce   Kilmer,    . 
The    Ballad    of    the    Judas    Tree. — 

Emily  Hickey,    .... 


335 
80 

744 
506 
196 

469 


NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


A  Child's  Rule  of  Life,  .  .257 
A  Guide  Book  to  Colorado,  .  401 
A  Hundredfold,  .  .  .  551 

A  Hundred  Years  of  Irish  History,  834 
Alma  Mater,  or  the  Georgetown 

Centennial,  and  Other  Stories,  549 
A  New  Variorum  Edition  of 

Shakespeare,  ....  828 
A  Pilgrim  of  Eternity,  .  .  398 
A  Primer  of  Social  Science,  .  835 
A  Textbook  in  the  History  of  Mod- 
ern Elementary  Education,  .  108 
A  White-Handed  Saint,  .  .550 
Betrothment  and  Marriage,  .  .  398 

Bossuet,  .....  836 
Confessions  of  a  Convert,  .  .  392 

Callista, 688 

Cardinal    Manning ;   The    Decay   of 
Idealism  in  France ;  The  Institute 
of    France,          ....     406 
Cease    Firing,         ....      686 
Christology  :    A  Dogmatic  Treatise 

on  the  Incarnation,  .  .  .  686 
Columbanus  the  Celt,  .  .  250 

Come  Rack !  Come  Rope !  .  .  399 
Curly  and  Others,  .  .  .116 

Dictionnaire  Apologetique  de  la  Foi 

Catholique,  .          .          .          .410 

Did  the  Emperor  Alexander  I.  Die 

a    Catholic?         .          .          .          .      837 
Eucharistic      Lilies,      or      Youthful 
Lovers   of   Jesus   in   the    Blessed 
Sacrament,    .      .          .          .          .551 
Eucharistica :    Verse   and   Prose   in 

Honour  of  the  Hidden  God,  .  252 
European  Cities  at  Work,  .  .541 
Famous  Foreign  Writers,  .  .  837 
Five  Centuries  of  English  Poetry,  827 
Folk  Tales  of  East  and  West,  .  690 
Fountains  of  Our  Savior,  .  .551 
Francis  Bacon,  ....  837 


From    Hussar    to    Priest,         .           .  539 
Guide  to  the  United  States  for  the 

Jewish  Immigrant,       .           .           .115 
Harnack    et    Le    Miracle,        .          .  117 
Heart    of    Revelation,    .          .  551 
Hindrances    to    Conversion    to    the 
Catholic    Church    and    Their    Re- 
moval,        .....  684 
History  of  Rome  and  the  Popes  in 

the   Middle   Ages,        .          .          .821 
History  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  in 
France    from    Its    Origin    to    Its 

Suppression    (1528-1762),    .           .  255 

In    God's    Nursery,         .          .          .  536 

In  the  Lean  Years,        .          .          .  410 

In    the    Service    of    the    King,         .  115 

Islam,                                  ,  837 

Jeunesse    et    Ideal,         .           .           .  694 

John    Wesley's    Last    Love,    .          .  682 

Lacordaire,              ,  -'                .          .  829 

La    Foi,         .          .                    .          .  693 

Lances  Hurled  at  the  Sun,       .          .  249 

La    Predication    Contemporaine,      .  693 

Le    Prin    Evangelique,    .                     .  694 

Levia-Pondera,       .        ..  ^         .           .  395 

Les   Fous,      ...                    .  694 
Les   Quinze   Etapes  ou   Pas   Spirit- 
uels   dans   la  voie   des    Exercises 

de    Saint    Ignace,         .        '  .          .  694 

Les    Semeurs    de    Vent,         .          .  694 

L'Objet    Integral    d    1'Apologetique,  694 

Life    and    Times    of    Calvin,         .  685 

Luther, 528 

Man,      ....  .837 

Manual  of  Christian  Epigraphy,      .  837 

Matutinaud    Reads    the    Bible,         .  837 

Memory   and   the    Executive    Mind,  551 
Mishnah ;    a    Digest    of    the    Basic 
Principles    of    the    Early    Jewish 

Jurisprudence,     .           .                     .  105 

Mizraim ;    Souvenirs   of   Egypt,        .  550 


CONTENTS 


Mystical      Contemplation,      or     the 

Principles  of  Mystical  Theology,  825 

My   Unknown   Chum,   "Aquecheek,"  254 

Newman's  Apologia   Pro   Vita  Sua,  680 

Notes    of    the    True    Church,         .  117 

Old    China    and     Young    America,  411 

Old  Time  Makers  of  Medicine,        .  114 

Our  Book  of  Memories,  .  .  396 
Our  Lady  in  the  Church,  and  Other 

Essays,        .          .          .       •.'•;.  248 

Our  Neighbors:    The  Japanese,       .  411 

Philosophers  and  Thinkers,  .  .  694 
Poor,  Dear  Margaret  Kirby,  and 

Other    Stories,    ....  399 
Questions  de  Moral,  de  Droit  Can- 

onique   et   de    Liturgie,        .          .  694 
Religious    History    of    the    French 

Revolution,          ....  408 
Sentiment    de    Napoleon    I.    sur    le 

Christianisme,     ....  694 
Shakespeare,   Bacon,  and  the  Great 

Unknown,             .          .          .  405 

Sing  Ye  to  the  Lord,  .  .  .-58 
Social  Environment  and  Moral  Pro- 

gress                                                        .  545 

Songs    for    Sinners,         .          .          .  253 

Stanmore    Hall    and    Its    Inmates,  112 

St.  Anne  of  the  Mountains,  .  117 
The  Amateur  Gentleman,  .  .401 
The  Apostle  of  Ceylon — Father 

Joseph    Vaz,    1651    to    1711,         .  83'2 
The  Book  of  the  Foundations  of  St. 

Teresa    of    Jesus,        .           .          .  823 

The  Catechist's  Manual,  .  .  549 
The  Catholic  Church  in  the  First 

Centuries,             ....  837 
The      Complete      Works      of     John 
Tauler,    Religious    of    the    Four- 
teenth  Century,             .           .           .112 
The    Cult    of   Mary,        .          .           .681 
The  Deciding  Voice  of  the  Monu- 
ments   in    Biblical    Criticism,         .  402 
The  Distribution  of  Incomes  in  the 

United   States 548 

The  Doctrine  of  the  Assumption,  837 
The  Dominican  Revival  in  the 

Nineteenth    Century,  .          .831 

The     Drift     of     Romanticism,         .  543 


The  Era  of  the  Drama,  .  .  694 
The  Foundations  of  the  Faith,  .  694 
The  History  of  the  Popes,  from  the 

Close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  .  532 
The  Honourable  Mrs.  Garry,  .  251 
The  Invaders,  ,  .  .  .  .  403 
The  Kingdom,  .  ;  ' •'.  ,  .  .  .259 
The  King's  Table,  .  .  .551 
The  Life  and  Letters  of  John  Paul 

Jones,  .-,?•"•  ....  679 
The  Madonna  of  Sacrifice,  .  411 
The  Meaning  of  God  in  Human 

Experience,  ....  689 
The  Mighty  Friend,  .  .  .  111 
The  Missal,  .  .  .  .118 

The  Names  of  God,  .  .  .  536 

The  New  ''Testament  Manuscripts 

in  the  Freer  Collection,  .  .104 

The  Princess  and  the  Goblin,  .  411 
The  Psalms,  .  .  .  .118 

The  Reign  of  Jesus,  .  .  .117 
The  Right  of  the  Strongest,  .  411 
The  Road  of  Living  Men,  .  551 

The  Roman  Curia,  .  .  .  .  836 
The  Sacred  Shrine,  .  .  .  246 
The  Stock  Exchange  from  Within,  256 
The  "  Summa  Theologica "  of  St. 

Thomas  Aquinas,  .  .  .  107 
The  Theory  of  Evolution  in  the 

Light  of  Facts,  .  .  .  833 

The  Theory  of  the  Mass,  .  .  837 

Their  Choice,  .  .  .  .116 

Theological  and  Canonical  Ques- 
tions, .....  837 
This,  That,  and  the  Other,  .  .no 
Three  Years  in  the  Libyan  Desert,  538 
Tolerance,  .....  690 
Two  and  Two  Makes  Four,  .  403 
Up  in  Ardmuirland,  .  .  .109 
Vendeenne,  .....  694 
Verses  and  Reverses,  .  .  .  409 
Vocations  for  Girls,  .  .  .251 
V.  V.'s  Eyes,  .  .  .  .687 
Wild  Birds  of  New  York,  .  .116 
William  George  Ward  and  the 

Catholic  Revival,  .  •  .  .  827 
Winds  of  Doctrine,  .  .  .  534 

With  the  Victorious  Bulgarians,  106 


THE 


CATHOLIC  WORLD. 


VOL.  XCVII.  APRIL,  1913.  No.  577. 

THE  ENGLISH  ROYAL  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE. 

BY  W.  H.  KENT,  O.S.C. 

T  first  sight  it  might  seem  that  a  discussion  of  the 
recent  Report*  of  the  (English)  Royal  Commission 
on  Divorce  and  Matrimonial  Causes  must  be  doubly 
out  of  place  in  the  pages  of  an  American  Catholic 
journal.  For,  on  the  one  hand,  this  official  docu- 
ment is  concerned  solely  with  possible  suggested  legislation  which 
could  only  affect  British  subjects,  or,  to  speak  more  precisely,  those 
who  are  inhabitants  of  England  and  of  certain  British  possessions 
overseas.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  Catholics  who  are  opposed  on 
principle  to  any  divorce,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  word  is  under- 
stood in  this  Report,  cannot,  it  would  seem,  be  in  a  position  to 
appreciate  or  discuss  the  arguments  and  evidence  in  regard  to 
proposals  for  granting  further  facilities  for  divorce,  and  extending 
its  dubious  advantages  to  new  classes  of  the  community.  For  this 
reason,  it  may  be  presumed,  no  Catholic  is  found  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Commission,  though  some  representative  Catholics,  it  is 
true,  gave  evidence  in  the  course  of  the  inquiry. 

None  the  less  it  will  be  found,  on  further  reflection,  that  there 
are  good  reasons  why  the  Catholics,  and  the  non-Catholics  also, 
of  the  United  States  should  give  this  document  their  serious 
attention.  For  though  directly  and  more  immediately  it  may  affect 

*Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  on  Divorce  and  Matrimonial  Causes: 
presented  to  Parliament  by  command  of  His  Majesty.  London :  Eyre  and  Spot- 
tiswoode,  1912. 

Copyright.     1913.    THE  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  OF  ST.  PAUL  THE  APOSTLE 

IN  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 
VOL.  XCVII. — I. 


2          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

British  subjects  only,  in  such  matters  as  matrimonial  legislation 
what  is  done  in  one  land  cannot  fail  to  have  some  effect,  whether 
for  good  or  evil,  among  other  nations. 

And  Americans,  it  may  be  added,  have  a  more  special  reason  to 
be  interested  in  the  proposals  set  forth  in  this  English  Official 
Report.  For  they  will  find  that  what  may  be  called  the  American 
argument  fills  a  conspicuous  place  in  its  pages.  To  put  this  in  a 
few  words,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Commissioners  who  sign  the 
Majority  Report  recommend  such  further  facilities  for  divorce 
as  would  make  the  English  law  on  this  matter  approximately  the 
same  as  that  already  in  force  in  many  States  of  the  Union.  And 
though  they  do  not  follow  it  in  every  respect,  and  look  for  some 
light  and  leading  elsewhere,  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that 
American  divorce  law  is  their  great  example  and  source  of  inspira- 
tion. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  will  be  found  that  the  three  distinguished 
signatories  of  the  Minority  Report,  who  offer  a  strenuous  opposi- 
tion to  the  proposed  changes,  make  a  powerful  and  effective  appeal 
to  American  experience  in  this  matter.  They  point  to  the  out- 
standing fact  "  that  in  the  case  of  the  great  English-speaking 
American  people,  which  has,  and  for  many  years  has  had,  a  Divorce 
Law  largely  similar  to  that  which  our  colleagues  would  see  estab- 
lished in  this  country,  the  number  of  divorces  has  grown  rapidly 
year  by  year." 

This  moral  is  further  enforced  by  a  reference  to  the  formation 
of  the  "  American  National  League  for  the  Protection  of  the 
Family,"  and  the  minority  cite  some  emphatic  words  of  its  Cor- 
responding Secretary,  Dr.  Samuel  Dike,  on  the  evils  resulting  from 
easy  divorce.  And  after  noticing  and  discussing  the  argument 
that  the  increase  in  American  divorces  was  due  to  the  independence 
of  the  several  States  and  the  facility  of  immigration,  etc.,  they 
go  on  to  say: 

After  making  all  allowances  for  differences  of  national  tem- 
perament, climate,  and  circumstances  between  England  and 
the  United  States,  we  are  bound  to  recognize  that  the  two 
countries  have  too  much  in  common  to  make  it  probable  that 
if  we  in  England  adopt  what  are  substantially  the  American 
grounds  for  divorce,  we  shall  escape  the  grave  disasters  which 
have  admittedly  followed  their  adoption  in  the  United  States. 

American  readers,  we  imagine,  can  scarcely  remain  indifferent 


1913-]         THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE          3 

to  this  spectacle  of  English  legislators  and  social  reformers,  drawn 
one  way  by  the  example  of  American  laws,  and  in  the  opposite 
direction  by  the  lessons  of  American  experience.  But  comment 
on  this  aspect  of  the  divided  Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  had 
better  be  left  in  the  safe  hands  of  American  Catholic  critics. 

In  much  the  same  way,  it  may  be  said,  that  while  Catholics 
would  not  be  directly  affected  by  any  of  the  suggested  changes  in  the 
Divorce  Laws,  such  a  document  as  the  present  Report  undoubtedly 
challenges  criticism  from  ,a  Catholic  standpoint.  We  cannot  well 
be  content  to  let  it  pass  as  something  in  no  wise  concerning  our 
own  people.  For  in  any  case  the  Catholic  objection  to  divorce 
is  not  a  mere  matter  of  domestic  discipline,  like  clerical  celibacy, 
for  example.  Our  defense  of  this  latter  rule  need  not  imply 
any  censure  on  those  without  the  Church  and  free  from  any  such 
obligation.  On  the  contrary,  the  Catholic  belief  in  the  absolute 
indissolubility  of  marriage  applies  in  principle  to  the  marriages 
of  those  who  are  not  Catholics.  And  even  if  it  were  the  case 
that  divorce  laws  had  no  effect  on  our  own  people,  we  must  needs 
regard  the  growing  tendency  to  relax  the  bond  of  Christian  mar- 
riage as  a  grave  national  evil,  and  do  all  in  our  power,  whether 
by  word  or  political  action,  to  arrest  its  fatal  progress. 

But  here,  again,  there  are  further  and  more  special  reasons 
why  Catholics  should  take  an  active  part  in  this  struggle.  For  it 
is  clear  to  all  who  understand  the  influence  of  evil  example  and 
environment  that  the  disastrous  effect  of  increased  facilities  for 
divorce  among  Protestants  must  carry  with  it  some  danger  to  the 
morality  of  their  Catholic  neighbors  and  fellow  citizens.  And  what 
is  more,  many  of  the  arguments  here  brought  together  to  make 
out  a  case  for  these  further  facilities,  constitute,  however  uncon- 
sciously and  indirectly,  an  indictment  of  the  Catholic  system;  and 
naturally  challenge  some  answering  defense  of  our  own  position. 
It  is  true  that  the  Report,  as  becomes  its  official  character,  is  free 
from  anything  like  religious  controversy.  We  can  notice  nothing 
in  the  nature  of  offensive  language,  unless  it  be  one  passage  quoted 
from  an  old  Protestant  bishop  of  the  seventeenth  century.*  And 
if  the  evidence  of  the  Catholic  witnesses  examined  by  the  Com- 

"  The  distinction  betwixt  bed  and  board  and  the  bond  is  new,  never  mentioned 
in  the  Scripture,  and  unknown  to  the  ancient  Church ;  devised  only  by  the 
canonists  and  schoolmen  in  the  Latin  Church  (for  the  Greek  Church  knows  it  not), 
to  serve  the  Pope's  turn  the  better,  till  he  got  it  established  in  the  Council  of  Trent, 
at  which  time,  and  never  before,  he  laid  his  anathema  upon  all  them  that  were 
of  another  mind;  forbidding  all  men  to  marry,  and  not  to  make  any  use  of 
Christ's  concession."  These  are  the  words  used  by  Bishop  Cozens  in  Lord  Ross'  case. 


4          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

missioners  has  unfortunately  had  little  effect  on  the  conclusions  set 
forth  in  the  Report,  their  views  are  treated  with  becoming  respect. 
But  this  very  freedom  from  polemical  prejudice,  and  the  gen- 
erally impartial  tone  of  the  Report,  will  only  serve  to  make  any 
incidental  misrepresentation  of  Catholic  teaching,  or  any  dispar- 
agement of  Catholic  principles,  and  practice  doubly  dangerous. 
For  a  discerning  reader,  who  would  make  a  large  allowance  for 
ignorance  or  bias  if  he  found  these  things  in  a  no  Popery  tract, 
might  more  easily  be  led  astray  by  the  strangely  misleading  lan- 
guage of  the  Commissioners  who  were  conducting  an  official  in- 
quiry, and  had  taken  evidence  from  competent  Catholic  witnesses. 
For  this  reason  it  will  be  well  to  enter  an  emphatic  protest  against 
the  account  of  Catholic  practice  given  in  the  following  passage  of 
the  Report : 

The  only  divorce  which  the  pre-Reformation  Church  recog- 
nized, and  its  courts  granted,  was  a  divorce  a  mensd  et  thoro 
(equivalent  to  what  is  now  termed  a  judicial  separation),  as  the 
Church  held  that  a  valid  marriage  between  Christians  was  in- 
dissoluble. The  hardships  which  result  from  holding  marriage 
indissoluble  were,  however,  mitigated  by  a  system  of  effecting 
complete  divorce  by  means  of  decrees  of  nullity,  the  grounds 
of  which  were  numerous.  [Referring  to  the  rules  as  to  the 
forbidden  degrees  of  consanguinity  and  affinity,  Sir  Lewis  Dib- 
den  says]  :  "  These  elaborate,  and  highly  artificial  rules  produced 
a  system  under  which  marriages  theoretically  indissoluble,  if 
originally  valid,  could  practically  be  got  rid  of  by  being  declared 
null  ab  initio  on  account  of  the  impediment  of  relationship.  This 
relationship  might  consist  in  some  remote  or  fanciful  connection 
between  the  parties  or  their  godparents,  unknown  to  either  of 
them  until  the  desire  to  find  a  way  out  of  an  irksome  union 
suggested  minute  research  into  pedigrees  for  obstacles — a  search 
which  somehow  seems  to  have  been  generally  successful." 

The  grounds  still  recognized  by  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
for  declaring  a  marriage  null  are  given  by  Monseigneur  (sic.) 
Moyes  as  fifteen  in  number. 

Now  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  this  passage,  which 
has  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  early  pages  of  the  Report,  is  a 
ludicrous  misrepresentation  of  the  Catholic  position.  This  is 
obvious  to  anyone  who  is  really  familiar  with  Catholic  history  in 
the  past  and  Catholic  practice  in  the  present  day.  But  we  fear 


1913.]         THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE          5 

that  too  many  readers  may  be  unaware  of  this,  and  may  readily 
accept  this  as  a  faithful  account  of  the  facts.  They  may  fail  to 
observe  that  this  curious  description  of  the  Catholic  system  is  taken 
from  a  Protestant  authority;  and  that  the  Catholic  witnesses  (who 
would  certainly  have  repudiated  this  perversion  of  facts)  is  merely 
cited  for  a  simple  figure.  And  as  few  who  read  the  Report  will 
also  study  the  voluminous  evidence  for  themselves,  it  is  probable 
that  many  will  remain  unaware  that  some  of  the  aforesaid  fifteen 
grounds  of  dissolution  would  also  hold  good  in  English  law  (which, 
on  the  other  hand,  has  several  grounds  not  admitted  by  the  Church). 

It  is,  withal,  some  relief  to  note  that  the  misrepresentation 
is  certainly  not  malicious.  For  though  it  may  be  thought  an  ab- 
surdity, the  alleged  system  of  annulling  marriages  theoretically  indis- 
soluble is  really  regarded  as  mitigating  the  hardships  otherwise 
involved  in  the  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  indissolubility  of  marriage. 
But  however  honest  and  well-meaning  they  may  be,  these  inter- 
preters of  the  Catholic  "  system  "  are  strangely  at  fault  in  their 
account  of  its  purpose  and  mode  of  operation. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  we  have  no  desire  to  dispute 
or  minimize  the  true  facts  on  which  this  strange  statement  is, 
apparently,  founded.  It  is  certainly  true  that  while  the  Catholic 
Church  resolutely  refuses  to  acknowledge  divorce,  in  the  sense  in 
which  the  word  is  here  understood  (i.  e.}  the  complete  dissolution 
of  a  marriage  originally  valid),  she  allows  such  separation  with 
liberty  to  remarry  in  cases  where  the  original  contract  is  proved 
to  have  been  null  and  void  ab  initio,  by  reason  of  some  diriment 
impediment,  and,  indeed,  it  could  not  well  be  otherwise. 

For  the  most  rigid,  consistent,  and  absolute  doctrine  of  the 
indissolubility  of  the  marriage  bond  could  not  have  the  effect  of 
holding  together  those  who,  ex  hypothesi,  were  not  married. 

It  is  also  true  that  before  the  time  of  Innocent  III.  (1216), 
and  not  as  the  Report  implies  in  the  whole  period  before  the  Ref- 
ormation, the  forbidden  degrees  were  numerous,  and  presented 
considerable  difficulty — which  was  the  great  Pope's  main  reason 
for  reducing  them. 

And  it  is,  further,  the  fact,  that  in  this  matter,  as  elsewhere, 
the  law  has  occasionally  been  abused  by  evil-minded  men,  by  false 
evidence,  or  by  intimidating  bishops  subservient  to  their  authority. 
But  the  serious  student  of  Church  history  may  well  be  filled  with 
wonder  when  he  reads  the  above  .account  of  the  Catholic  system,  and 
learns  how  easy  it  was  to  be  successful  in  the  search  for  satisfactory 


6         THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

evidence  of  nullity,  and  thus  dissolve  a  bond  "theoretically  indis- 
soluble." 

For  if  this  were  really  the  case,  how  came  it  that  so  many 
powerful  princes,  from  Lothaire  in  the  ninth  century  to  Henry 
of  England  in  the  sixteenth,  found  the  bond  so  hard  to  break,  and 
even  whole  kingdoms  were  shaken  by  their  unavailing  efforts? 
The  divorce  of  Lothaire  might  be  sanctioned  by  local  bishops  and 
subservient  councils,  but  the  Pope  annulled  the  iniquitous  sentence. 
Philip  Augustus  of  France  could  persuade  the  Archbishop  of 
Rheims  to  divorce  him  from  his  Danish  bride  on  a  pretense 
of  affinity,  but  Innocent  III.,  by  laying  his  kingdom  under  an 
interdict,  compelled  the  king  to  take  back  his  true  wife.  King 
John,  it  is  true,  was  more  successful  in  getting  free  from  his  union 
with  Avice  of  Gloucester  on  the  plea  of  consanguinity,  in  spite  of 
the  Pope's  remonstrance  that  the  impediment  had  been  removed  by 
a  dispensation.  But  if  wrong  was  done  in  that  case,  the  success 
assuredly  brought  its  own  punishment  in  its  train.  And  it  may 
be  remarked  that  it  was  the  same  great  Pontiff  who,  after  rebuking 
these  lawless  kings,  took  steps  to  reduce  and  simplify  the  forbidden 
degrees  of  consanguinity  and  affinity  (c.  8  X.  de  consanguinitate 
et  affinitate). 

The  repeated  failure  of  powerful  princes,  in  corrupt  and  law- 
less times,  should  suffice  to  show  that  the  average  sensual  man 
could  have  little  hope  of  success  without  genuine  and  convincing 
evidence.  And  a  little  knowledge  of  the  facts  would  serve  to 
dissipate  this  illusion  of  a  systematic  use  of  decrees  of  nullity  as  a 
working  substitute  for  divorce  in  the  case  of  Catholics  who  have 
contracted  unhappy  marriages.  For  these  decrees  are  only  granted 
on  real  grounds,  which  are  by  no  means  so  numerous  and  fanciful 
as  these  writers  imagine.  And  in  the  case  of  most  Catholics 
afflicted  with  those  matrimonial  troubles,  for  which  Protestants 
seek  a  dubious  remedy  in  the  divorce  courts,  there  is  no  possibility 
of  getting  a  decree  of  nullity.  This  is  really  a  plain  question  of 
fact,  not  a  disputable  opinion.  And  the  candid  and  impartial 
Protestant,  who  will  examine  the  evidence  for  himself,  will  cer- 
tainly find  that  our  Catholic  marriages  are  really  indissoluble  in 
practice  as  well  as  in  theory. 

This  explanation,  it  may  be  hoped,  will  be  enough  to  dispose 
of  this  initial  misrepresentation  of  the  Catholic  system.  But  when 
once  the  notion  of  this  illusory  mitigation  is  out  of  the  way,  we 
find  ourselves  left  to  bear  the  full  force  of  all  the  arguments  and 


1913-]          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE          7 

evidence  gathered  together  in  this  Report,  to  show  the  necessity 
of  a  simple  and  facile  system  of  divorce,  and  to  oppress  us  with  a 
painful  picture  of  the  terrible  sufferings  and  immorality  that  must 
almost  inevitably  follow  where  no  such  remedy  is  available. 

It  is  true,  as  we  have  said,  that  these  well-meaning  Commis- 
sioners are  not  assailing  Catholics  or  writing  and  arguing  against 
them.  And  although  they  briefly  notice  other  and  divergent  views 
on  this  question,  in  the  main  they  seem  to  make  the  present  English 
law  their  point  of  departure,  and,  declining  to  discuss  the  opinion 
of  those  who  would  fain  do  away  with  divorce  altogether,  they 
proceed  to  consider  the  advisability  of  increasing  the  grounds  on 
which  divorce  may  be  granted,  and  bringing  the  remedy,  now  mo- 
nopolized by  the  rich,  within  easy  reach  of  the  poorer  classes.  Thus, 
for  the  most  part,  their  arguments  seem  to  be  directly  addressed 
to  those  who  agree  on  the  common  ground  that  divorce  is  a  rightful 
and  a  real  remedy.  And  it  may  be  freely  allowed  that  when  once 
this  fundamental  principle  is  granted,  their  arguments  hang  together 
with  a  logical  sequence,  and  their  practical  conclusions  are  by  no 
means  unreasonable. 

Certainly  if  divorce  be,  as  they  suppose,  a  rightful  and  real 
remedy  for  evils,  so  very  real  and  so  very  common,  it  is  obviously 
unfair  that  it  should  be  confined  to  the  rich,  or  to  only  a  small  sec- 
tion of  the  victims  of  unhappy  marriages.  And  it  is  idle  to  deny 
that  as  the  Act  of  1857  was  the  logical  sequel  of  the  system  of 
divorce  by  act  of  Parliament,  which  was  a  privilege  of  the  very  rich, 
so  is  this  further  extension  of  facilities  for  divorce  a  logical  sequel 
of  the  Act  of  1857.  But  we  may  be  permitted  to  remark  that  we 
can  easily  see  that  the  same  logical  sequence  will  eventually  carry 
the  reformers  yet  further  on  their  path  of  destruction. 

But  while  the  underlying  argument  of  this  Report  is  thus 
directly  addressed  to  those  who  admit  this  common  ground  that 
divorce  a  vinculo  is  a  real  and  rightful  remedy,  all  that  is  said 
concerning  the  evils  that  follow  from  its  inaccessibility  to  the 
poorer  classes  of  the  community,  must  needs  hit  those  who  would 
refuse  this  remedy  altogether. 

And  if  the  reader  accepts  what  is  said,  and  blames  the  system 
which  puts  a  prohibitive  price  on  divorce,  he  must  also  blame  the 
Catholic  system  which  will  not  allow  it  at  any  price.  Thus,  we 
are  given  an  imposing  array  of  facts  and  authoritative  opinions, 
all  tending  to  warrant  the  conclusion  of  the  Commissioners  that 
"  the  remedy  of  judicial  separation  is  an  unnatural  and  unsatis- 


8          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

factory  remedy,  leading  to  evil  consequences  (i.  e.,  to  immorality), 
and  that  it  is  inadequate  in  cases  where  married  life  has  become 
practically  impossible."  And  the  further  conclusion  is  drawn  that 
by  the  extension  of  grounds  for  divorce,  and  by  improved  and  less 
costly  methods  of  procedure,  such  parties  should  be  enabled  to 
obtain  what  is,  apparently,  a  more  natural  and  more  satisfactory 
remedy  in  a  complete  dissolution  of  their  marriage. 

Yet,  elsewhere  in  the  Report,  in  an  earlier  stage  of  the  dis- 
cussion, the  reader  is  warned  that  the  aforesaid  judicial  separations 
must  still  be  retained,  not  only  as  a  protection  for  the  very  poor, 
but  also  "  because  these  orders  afford  a  remedy  for  Roman  Catholics 
and  persons  disapproving  of  divorce."  And  thus  he  is  reminded 
that  for  Catholics  there  can,  as  it  would  seem,  be  nothing  but  an 
inadequate  and  unnatural  remedy. 

It  is  on  this  very  matter,  moreover,  that  Bishop  Cozens  was 
speaking  when  he  condemns  the  distinction  "betwixt  bed  and 
board  and  the  bond  "  as  something  devised  by  canonists  and  school- 
men to  serve  the  turn  of  the  Pope,  who  is  accused  of  "  forbidding 
all  men  to  marry,  and  not  to  make  any  use  of  Christ's  concession." 
(Cf.  above  p.  3.) 

It  is  obvious,  as  we  have  said,  that  many  readers  may  well  be 
moved  by  such  passages  to  form  a  very  unfavorable  opinion  of  the 
Catholic  system.  And  though  the  Commissioners  themselves  re- 
frain from  any  such  controversial  recrimination,  some  readers,  we 
fear,  may  be  tempted  to  go  farther,  and  make  the  Pope  and  his 
hard,  inexorable  law  the  fons  et  origo  mall. 

For  it  is  certainly  the  case  that  many  advanced  advocates  of 
marriage-law  reform  do  regard  the  indissoluble  marriage  bond  as 
part  of  an  obsolete  or  antiquated  ecclesiastical  system,  from  which 
the  Protestant  Churches  have  been  but  partly  emancipated,  while 
Rome  still  maintains  it  in  full  rigor. 

The  old  Protestant  bishop  would  probably  find  many  to  agree 
with  him  in  throwing  the  chief  blame  on  the  Pope,  since  this 
troublesome  doctrine  of  indissolubility  comes  down  to  us  in  a  well- 
knit  system  of  dogmas  and  laws,  finding  their  main  sanction  and 
support  in  Papal  authority. 

It  would  obviously  be  out  of  place  to  attempt  any  vindication 
of  the  Pope's  authority  on  the  present  occasion,  for  the  problem 
of  divorce  and  marriage-law  reform  is  quite  enough  by  itself ;  and 
there  is  no  need  to  perplex  the  reader  with  an  incidental  discussion 
on  Papal  supremacy  and  infallibility.  Yet  it  may  not  be  amiss 


1913-]          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE          g 

to  remark  that  a  right  appreciation  of  the  Pope's  position  in  this 
question  of  divorce  should  be  enough  to  upset  most  Protestant 
or  Rationalist  theories  on  the  origin  and  growth  of  the  Papal 
power  and  authority. 

For  all  who  do  not  accept  the  Catholic  belief  as  to  the  origin 
of  the  Papacy,  must  needs  hold  that  the  Pope  claims  high  powers 
which  are  not  really  his.  And  some  are  prepared  to  explain  how 
these  pretensions  have  grown  and  developed  in  the  course  of  time; 
how  favorable  circumstances  have  been  turned  to  account;  what 
use  has  been  made  of  political  changes;  what  part  has  been  played 
by  the  Donation  of  Constantine  or  the  forged  Decretals. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  large  literature  of  historical  controversy,  or 
controversial  history,  wherein  the  Papacy  appears  as  an  ever-in- 
creasing and  encroaching  power,  ever  on  the  alert  in  its  own 
interest,  strengthening  and  consolidating  old  claims  or  advancing 
others  in  new  directions.  And  it  may  be  admitted  that  even  in 
unskilled  hands  the  argument  may  sometimes  be  plausible  and 
imposing.  But  there  is  one  plain  fact  that  cannot  by  any  ingenuity 
be  reconciled  with  this  reading  of  Papal  history;  and  this  is  the 
attitude  of  the  Popes  in  this  matter  of  divorce  and  marriage.  For 
what  would  that  attitude  have  been  on  the  Protestant  hypothesis  of 
arrogant  ambition  and  ever-increasing  claims?  The  Pope  would 
surely  claim  the  most  absolute  and  extensive  power  over  the  bond 
of  marriage.  And  it  is  easy  to  see  what  a  far-reaching  influence 
it  would  give  him  in  his  dealings  with  kings  and  princes  if  he  claimed 
a  paramount  and  exclusive  power  of  dissolving  the  bond  of  a 
valid  marriage. 

Yet  with  all  the  plausible  arguments  that  might  be  used  to 
support  this  claim,  and  all  the  motives  that  might  recommend  it 
to  crafty  or  ambitious  Pontiffs,  there  is  the  one  plain  luminous 
fact  in  all  the  dark  history  of  political  intrigues  and  matrimonial 
troubles,  that  they  never  arrogated  to  themselves  the  power  of 
putting  asunder  those  whom  God  had  joined  together.  Even  in 
the  case  of  the  decrees  of  nullity,  the  Popes  only  claimed  the  right 
of  judging  as  to  the  facts  and  interpreting  the  law.  And  all  that 
they  risked  and  suffered  in  resisting  the  imperious  demands  of 
mighty  princes,  shows  how  strictly  they  acted  according  to  law  and 
justice  in  this  matter.  For  when  they  resolutely  refused  to  annul 
a  marriage  not  really  void  ab  initio,  they  were  not  denying  a  grace 
they  might  have  granted  if  they  would.  Here,  as  in  many  other 


io        THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

matters,  the  Papal  refusal  is  a  non  possumus.  Like  the  great  rebel 
in  a  later  age,  each  one  of  the  medieval  Popes  who  refused  to  dis- 
solve the  bond  of  a  royal  marriage  said,  in  effect,  I  cannot  do 
otherwise  (Ich  kann  nlcht  anders). 

In  the  case  of  Henry  VIII.,  it  is  true  that  powerful  interests 
were  at  work  on  both  sides,  and  the  fear  of  England  was  balanced 
by  the  fear  of  the  imperial  power.  But  in  other  cases  the  Popes 
risked  everything  for  the  cause  of  justice  alone.  Thus  in  the 
case  of  Lothaire,  the  injured  wife  herself  joined  in  the  prayer 
for  a  dissolution,  and  the  Pope,  though  driven  from  his  palace, 
would  never  consent  to  annul  the  marriage.  And  when  we  turn 
to  a  later  page  of  history,  after  the  lapse  of  a  thousand  years,  we 
find  another  Roman  Pontiff  resisting  the  power  of  Napoleon,  and 
firmly  refusing  to  dissolve  the  bond  of  marriage  between  Jerome 
Bonaparte  and  his  Protestant  American  bride.  The  letter  of  Pius 
VII.  to  Napoleon  on  the  Bonaparte-Patterson  case  makes  the 
Pope's  position  in  this  matter  perfectly  clear,  and  plainly  shows 
that  he  disclaims  any  power  or  right  of  dissolving  a  full  and  valid 
Christian  marriage.* 

Protestant  controversialists  have  much  to  tell  us  of  the  arro- 
gance of  the  Roman  Pontiffs,  who  set  themselves,  as  it  would 
seem,  above  the  law  of  God.  Yet,  here  we  find  the  Popes  consist- 
ently disclaiming  the  possession  of  a  power  which  is  now  freely 
claimed  by  the  meanest  mushroom  state  in  Christendom. 

It  may  seem  that  we  have  been  led  away  from  the  question  of 
divorce,  considered  in  itself,  to  the  perennial  discussion  of  Papal 
authority.  Yet,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  will  be  found  that  the  prin- 
ciple involved  in  the  Roman  non  possumus  contains  the  key  of  the 
problem.  As  we  turn  the  pages  of  this  Report  we  find  the  words  of 
witnesses,  or  of  the  Commissioners  themselves,  enlarging  on  the 
evils  that  follow  from  the  want  of  divorce,  and  arguing  that  this 
saving  remedy  should  be  granted  with  greater  facility,  and  not 
only  for  adultery,  but  for  a  variety  of  other  reasons.  And  as 
we  read  of  the  widespread  immorality  and  suffering  ensuing  in  a 
society  under  the  present  limitations  and  difficulties,  we  might  be 
tempted  to  think  it  right  and  reasonable  to  give  these  further  facili- 
ties and  this  bold  extension  of  the  grounds  of  divorce. 

But  before  proceeding  to  discuss  the  advisability  of  the  sug- 
gested reforms,  it  would  be  well  to  ask  by  what  authority  it  is 

*See  the  letter  in  Artaud  de  Mentor's  Lives  of  the  Popes,  English  translation. 


1913-]          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        n 

proposed  to  dissolve  the  bond  of  marriage  in  these  cases?  The 
Popes,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  plentitude  of  their  power,  felt  that 
this  was  beyond  their  competence.  Modern  Parliaments,  rushing  in 
where  the  Pontiffs  feared  to  tread,  freely  pass  bills  of  divorce,  or 
erect  courts  empowered  to  grant  decrees  of  dissolution.  But  does 
it  follow  that  they  really  have  this  power,  and  that  the  parties 
thus  divorced  are  really  free?  Bishop  Cozens,  in  the  forcible 
passage  quoted  above,  boldly  talks  of  "  Christ's  concession."  But, 
of  course,  he  is  only  thinking  of  divorce  for  adultery,  then  de- 
fended primarily  by  appeal  to  the  excepting  clause  in  Matthew — a 
text  which  is  variously  interpreted  by  Catholic  commentators,  and 
is  now  apparently  regarded  by  some  Protestant  critics  as  an  inter- 
polation.* But  divorce  for  other  grounds,  at  any  rate,  cannot  be 
defended  in  this  manner.  And  the  authority  on  which  this  can  be 
granted  is  still  to  seek.  Are  we  to  suppose  that  the  power  of  the 
state,  unlike  that  of  the  Pope,  had  absolutely  no  limit  in  these 
matters,  and  that  Blackstone's  "omnipotence  of  Parliament"  is 
to  be  taken  literally,  and  holds  good  in  the  domain  of  morals? 
Will  it  be  competent  for  some  future  Commission  to  recommend, 
and  some  future  Parliament  to  pass,  a  law  allowing  a  Christian 
people  the  practice  of  polygamy? 

For  a  Catholic  (may  we  say,  for  a  Christian?)  these  questions 
should  answer  themselves.  And  the  only  answer  is  that  there  is  no 
power  really  competent  to  put  asunder  those  whom  God  hath 
joined  together.  In  the  light  of  this  plain  principle,  it  will  be 
readily  seen  that  most  of  the  arguments  of  our  Report  proceed 
upon  a  false  assumption.  Thus  one  of  the  strongest  and  most 
effective  arguments  is  that  drawn  from  the  immorality  resulting 
from  the  impossibility  or  inaccessibility  of  divorce.  The  parties 
who  get  separation  orders,  because  divorce  is  out  of  their  reach, 
very  frequently  form  other  and  irregular  unions.  And  the  same 
thing  often  happens  with  those  whose  partners  have  become  perma- 
nent inmates  of  prisons  or  lunatic  asylums.  And  it  is  suggested 
that  if  divorce  were  only  given  with  greater  facility,  and  granted 
on  these  additional  grounds,  most  of  these  irregular  unions  might 
be  converted  into  legal  marriages.  But,  apart  from  some  practical 
objections  which  may  be  urged  against  the  expediency  of  the  pro- 

*Thus   one   of  the  witnesses,   the   Rev.  J.   Cooper,    Professor   of   Ecclesiastical 

History  in  the  University  of  Glasglow,  and  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 

considers  it  doubtful  whether  the  clause,  "  Except  for  fornication,"  was  ever 
spoken  by  our  Lord. 


12 


THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

posed  remedy,  it  may  be  remarked  that  the  reasoning  of  these 
reformers  is  somewhat  superficial.  It  is,  apparently,  agreed  on  all 
sides  that  these  irregular  unions  are  immoral.  But  it  remains  to 
ask  wherein  this  deplorable  immorality  consists,  and  whether  it 
can  be  removed  by  any  mere  legal  proceedings.  To  us,  at  any 
rate,  it  is  clear  that  the  immorality  lies  in  living  with  one  who  is 
the  'wife  or  husband  of  another;  that  this  is  something  wrong 
in  itself,  and  that  will  be  just  as  immoral  however  much  it  may  be 
declared  legal.  Ardent  social  reformers,  in  questions  of  tem- 
perance, for  example,  are  often  reminded  that  we  cannot  make 
people  moral  by  act  of  Parliament.  And  though  this  is  certainly 
true  as  it  stands,  it  is  often  used  to  suggest  the  false  idea  that 
nothing  can  be  done  in  these  matters  by  Legislative  measures. 
But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  at  any  rate  entirely  true  that  immorality 
can  never  be  made  moral  by  act  of  Parliament. 

It  may  be  difficult  to  get  men  of  the  modern  world,  with  its 
loose  ideas  of  marriage,  to  understand  how  Catholics  view  such 
plausible  proposals  of  removing  the  immorality  of  the  aforesaid 
irregular  unions  by  a  legal  dissolution  of  the  existing  but  dis- 
regarded bonds  of  marriage  with  others.  But  it  may  be  possible 
to  illustrate  our  position  by  an  analogous  suggestion  in  regard  to 
something  which  the  modern  world  still  considers  sacred.  The 
analogy  is  naturally  suggested  by  the  juxtaposition  of  the  Ninth 
and  Tenth  Commandments,  in  which  the  sin  of  coveting  a  neighbor's 
wife  is  associated  with  the  sin  of  coveting  his  possessions.  This 
may  remind  us  that  sexual  sin  is  not  the  only  form  of  immorality, 
and  that  offences  resulting  from  the  violation  of  the  last  command- 
ment are  still  unhappily  common. 

And,  certainly,  if  many  are  unhappily  living  with  wives  or 
husbands  who  rightfully  belong  to  others,  there  are  also  many 
who  are  wrongfully  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  neighbor's  goods 
and  chattels.  But  what  would  be  thought  of  a  modest  suggestion 
that  this  wholesale  dishonesty  might  be  healed  by  an  act  of  ex- 
prohibition,  annulling  all  previous  rights  in  such  property,  and 
transferring  it  to  those  who  now  hold  it  in  their  hands  without  legal 
warrant?  Would  such  a  measure  really  make  the  wrongful  pos- 
sessors a  whit  more  honest?  Yet  in  reality  there  is  really  more  to 
be  said  for  such  measures  in  questions  of  this  kind:  for  the  state 
might  really  take  over  private  property,  and  in  certain  exceptional 
circumstances  it  may  interfere  with  the  rights  of  the  original 


1913-]          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        13 

owner,  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  in  the  interest  of  the  whole  com- 
munity. But  there  is  no  room  for  the  right  of  eminent  domain 
in  the  case  of  a  man  with  his  wife. 

It  may  be  thought  that  Catholics  only  take  this  ground  on 
ecclesiastical  principles,  because  marriage  is  a  Sacrament,  and 
the  Church  which  has  all  Sacraments  in  her  keeping  has  declared 
the  bond  to  be  indissoluble.  And,  no  doubt  the  sacred  nature  of 
a  Sacrament  adds  a  higher  sanction  and  a  higher  force  to  the 
human  contract  of  marriage,  and  the  Papal  decrees  on  this  matter 
give  greater  certainty  and  security  to  our  belief  in  the  doctrine  of 
indissolubility.  But  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
indissolubility  in  this  matter  is  only  something  sacramental  or  eccle- 
siastical. That  this  is  not  the  case  is  very  clearly  shown  by  the 
marked  difference  which  the  Church  herself  makes  between  matri- 
monium  ratum  and  matrimonium  consummatum.  When  nothing  has 
taken  place  but  the  contract  and  ceremony  in  the  church,  the  Sacra- 
ment of  Matrimony  has  already  been  received.  But  this  matrimon- 
ium ratum,  as  it  is  called,  though  valid  and  binding,  can  still  be 
dissolved  by  Papal  authority,  or  by  religious  profession.  And  it 
is  only  when  the  parties  have  actually  lived  together  as  husband  and 
wife  that  the  Church  feels  that  she  no  longer  has  any  power  to 
dissolve  their  bond  of  union. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  marriage  contracted  by  pagans  is  not  a 
sacrament.  Yet  though  this  may  be  dissolved  in  the  exceptional  cir- 
cumstances known  as  the  case  of  the  Apostle,  it  is  otherwise  regarded 
as  indissoluble.  And,  indeed,  it  is  abundantly  clear  from  the  action 
of  the  Popes,  and  from  the  language  of  Catholic  divines,  on  this 
question  of  indissolubility,  that  it  is  something  really  belonging 
to  the  natural  institution  of  marriage.  Happily  there  are  still 
moralists  and  deep  thinkers,  even  among  those  who  are  outside 
the  Church,  who  can  see  this  natural  necessity  of  the  unity  and 
indissolubility  of  marriage  as  maintained  by  Catholics.  And  what- 
ever reckless  new  writers  may  say  on  this  matter,  their  own  extreme 
proposals  only  serve  to  show  us  the  logical  issue  of  the  principles 
adopted  by  such  comparatively  moderate  men  as  these  Commis- 
sioners, and  we  may  add,  to  illustrate  the  fallacy  of  much  that  they 
say,  of  the  hardships  suffered  under  the  present  system. 

Here  let  us  add  that,  for  our  part,  we  have  no  wish  to  over- 
look these  hardships  and  evils ;  or  to  treat  them  lightly.  Perhaps 
such  a  course  might  be  possible  in  the  case  of  a  writer  whose  only 


14        THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        [April, 

knowledge  of  this  subject  came  from  books,  who  was  more  at  home 
in  theory  than  practice,  and  knew  no  matrimonial  cases  but  those 
of  some  imaginary  Tituses  and  Berthas.  But  it  is  otherwise  with 
the  present  writer,  who  has  been  working  for  years  among  the  poor, 
and  knows  many  who  suffer  from  all  the  matrimonial  troubles 
that  are  considered  in  this  Report.  But  the  greater  our  sympathy 
with  such  sufferers,  the  stronger  must  be  our  opposition  to  measures 
that  would  bring  them  no  real  relief,  and  must  inevitably  add  to  the 
evil  that  is,  in  most  cases,  the  cause  of  their  trouble. 

As  a  writer  in  the  Times  remarked  sometime  ago,  the  extreme 
advocates  of  marriage-law  reform  make  the  mistake  of  ascribing 
to  the  existing  laws  of  Christian  marriage  evils  which  would  be 
present  under  any  system.  And,  certainly,  a  little  reflection  would 
suffice  to  show  that  if  the  extremists  had  their  way,  or,  in  other 
words,  if  the  principles  adopted  by  all  advocates  of  divorce  were 
carried  on  to  their  logical  issue,  the  sin  and  suffering  that  now 
fill  our  hearts  with  sorrow  would  be  multiplied  a  hundredfold. 
With  all  that  is  now  done  by  the  laws  of  Church  and  State  to  keep 
them  together,  there  are  yet  many  homes  broken  up  by  unfaithful- 
ness, and  many  wives  left  desolate  and  forsaken.  But  what  would 
it  be  if  the  marriage  union  were  generally  recognized  as  something 
terminable  at  pleasure?  If  it  were  not  so  painful,  it  would  be 
amusing  to  see  how  easily  some  of  these  reformers  assume  that 
all  might  be  made  better  with  the  panacea  of  divorce.  The  victims 
of  unfortunate  marriages  are  to  be  set  free,  and  find  new  and  better 
helpmates,  and  live  happily  ever  afterwards.  These  amiable  opti- 
mists forget  how  many  have  really  given  their  hearts  to  the  first 
faithless  lover,  and  have  no  wish  to  look  elsewhere;  how  many 
again  may  never  find  any  other  to  ask  their  hand ;  and  how  many 
may  find  a  second  partner  worse  than  the  first.  The  relief,  were 
it  possible,  must  still  remain  doubtful  and  precarious.  But  the 
harm  done  by  loosing  the  marriage  bond,  and  weakening  that  found- 
ation of  all  human  society — fidelity  to  the  spoken  word — must 
surely  follow. 

In  taking  leave  of  this  Report,  it  may  be  well  to  say  that 
there  are  many  points  of  detail  in  which  a  Catholic  critic  must 
find  himself  in  agreement  with  the  signatories,  for  example,  in  their 
suggestions  of  a  drastic  restraint  over  the  publication  of  journalistic 
reports  of  cases  in  the  Divorce  Courts.  Yet  even  here  we  cannot 
help  feeling  that  the  real  remedy  for  this  evil  had  far  better  be 


1913-]          THE  ENGLISH  COMMISSION  ON  DIVORCE        15 

sought  in  the  more  drastic  measure  of  abolishing  divorce  and  Divorce 
Courts  altogether.  On  this  point  it  may  be  well  to  recall  the  wise 
words  of  one  so  free  from  conservative  and  ecclesiastical  prejudice 
as  Matthew  Arnold : 

When  one  looks,  for  instance  at  the  English  Divorce  Court — 
an  institution  which  perhaps  has  its  practical  conveniences,  but 
which  in  the  ideal  sphere  is  so  hideous;  an  institution  which 
neither  makes  divorce  impossible,  nor  makes  it  decent,  which 
allows  a  man  to  get  rid  of  his  wife,  or  a  wife  of  her  husband, 
but  makes  them  drag  one  another,  first,  for  the  public  edifica- 
tion, through  a  mire  of  unutterable  infamy — when  one  looks 
at  this  charming  institution,  I  say,  with  its  crowded  trials,  its 
newspaper  reports,  and  its  money  compensations,  this  institution 
in  which  the  gross,  unregenerated  British  Philistine  has  indeed 
stamped  an  image  of  himself,  one  may  be  permitted  to  find  the 
marriage  theory  of  Catholicism  refreshing  and  elevating.* 

It  may  be  hoped  that  the  same  reflection  may  be  suggested 
to  some  readers  of  the  present  Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  on 
Divorce  and  Matrimonial  Causes. 

*Cf.  Essay  on  the  Function  of  Criticism. 


THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON. 

BY  LOUISE  IMOGEN  GUINEY. 
I. 

HE  late  Mr.  Churton  Collins  was  an  English  literary 
scholar  whose  like  we  shall  not  soon  see  again. 
One  of  his  greatest  pleasures  was  to  dig  out  buried 
merit  from  the  rubbish-heap  of  time;  and  in  his 

published  anthology  figures  more  than  one  exquisite 

poet,  thus  first  restored  to  his  rights  and  the  homage  of  posterity. 
In  these  pages  the  reader  falls  across  a  bard,  otherwise  unknown, 
named  Dermody.  Mr.  Collins  editorially  alludes  to  him  as  "a 
hapless  child  of  genius,"  who  might  easily  have  beconie  "the 
Burns  of  Ireland."  Such  praise  is  interesting  to  a  degree,  and 
piques  every  lover  of  modern  verse  who  is  ignorant  in  the  particular 
instance,  yet  eager  to  be  enlightened.  How  considered,  or  how 
hasty  and  untrue  is  this  verdict  of  one  of  the  most  competent  of 
critics?  Let  us  prick  up  our  ears,  and  approach  the  untrodden 
Dermodian  shrine. 

Thomas  Dermody  appeared  on  this  planet  in  January,  1775, 
selecting  for  his  birthplace  Ennis  in  the  County  of  Clare,  Ireland, 
and  for  his  father  the  local  schoolmaster,  a  well-educated,  good- 
for-nothing  ex-tutor.  The  family  were  above  the  peasant  class. 
Also,  they  were  Protestant:  whether  by  ancient  conviction  or 
recent  compromise,  is  not  stated.  The  nameless  mother  seems 
never  to  have  counted.  Nicholas  Dermody  had  opportunity,  the 
respect  of  good  men,  some  share  in  the  goods  of  this  world,  and 
even  a  certain  repute  of  his  own,  until  he  fouled  the  gifts  of  the 
gods  by  drink  and  low  company.  His  unlucky  son  Tom,  the  eldest 
of  three,  gathered  the  fruit  of  the  days  of  his  decadence.  From  the 
day  he  was  four  years  old,  Tom  seems  to  have  been  crammed  with 
all  the  learning  which  his  most  accommodating  head  could  contain. 
Only  Evelyn's  little  Richard,  or  the  lisping  Pico  della  Mirandola, 
could  hold  a  candle  to  him!  Aged  eight,  and  very  small  for  his 
age,  he  was  promoted  not  only  to  be  usher  in  the  parental  school- 
room, but  assistant  instructor  there  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  Ian- 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  17 

guages:  entering,  in  fact,  upon  that  career  of  pedantry  which  is 
pregnant  of  such  peculiar  dangers  and  unlovely  results  to  the 
Gaelic  temperament.  To  balance  his  dizzy  professional  eminence, 
he  began  at  once  to  consort  with  naughty  grown-ups  (probably  his 
father's  circle),  and  to  pick  up,  in  the  green  pastures  of  County 
Clare,  so  much  of  the  trickery  of  the  wicked  world  as  could  fall 
in  a  small  child's  way.  He  is  said  to  have  felt  remorse,  even  at 
the  time;  but  remorse  is  an  adult  condition,  and  would  have  been 
affected,  were  it  not  felt.  Much  poetry,  well-worded,  well-metred, 
and  well-derived,  could  already  be  laid  to  his  infant  account. 

In  1785,  died  of  small-pox  a  little  brother  of  seven,  and 
Thomas,  in  orchestral  measures,  mourned  at  length  his  Corydon, 
"  Fond  Corydon,  scarce  ripen'd  into  boy,"  who,  being  "  a  shepherd 
Swain  like  me,  of  harmless  guise,"  did  all  the  usual  things,  such 
as  feeding  his  kine  and  tuning  his  pipe  in  lays 

Yet  unprofaned  with  trick  of  city  art, 

Pure  from  the  head,  and  glowing  from  the  heart. 

The  survivor  reproves  the  "  healing  Powers  "  at  large  for  not 
doing  their  duty  by  the  other  literary  babe,  who  is  described  as  a 
starry  shade  by  this  time,  flourishing  a  "  lyre  of  gratulations  loud." 
Tom  strews  upon  the  "  hillock  green  "  much  myrtle  and  laurel,  and 
beholds  in  air  a  vision  on  which  the  lyrical  curtain  falls :  not, 
however,  before  he  works  in  a  truly  classical  allusion  to  himself  as 
the  "  rude  youth "  who  ends  his  "  pastoral  strain "  by  making 
off  through  the  woods  in  most  approved  fashion,  "brushing  the 
dewdrops  from  the  glittering  spray."  The  Cowleian,  Miltonian, 
Virgilian  opulence  of  all  this  is  staggering  in  a  perpetrator  aged 
ten. 

Corydon's  companionship  may  have  meant  a  good  deal 
to  his  elegist,  for  their  academic  sire  was  by  now  in  a  sad  way. 
Tom's  biographer  remarks,  in  that  large  placating  manner  of  the 
late  eighteenth  century,  that  "  Mr.  Dermody  did  not  at  all  times 
pay  a  strict  regard  to  the  rules  of  prudence,"  and  that  "  his  habits 
growing  too  powerful  to  be  conquered  by  ordinary  means,  the 
sacrifice  of  domestic  felicity  appeared  unavoidable."  In  other 
words,  Nicholas  was  going  to  the  devil  at  a  hot  pace.  When 
deadly  poverty  stared  him  in  the  face,  he  planned  to  do  what  he  had 
done  once  before:  leave  Ennis,  and  try  his  luck  elsewhere.  Just 
then  his  wife  died  (variously  egged  on,  perhaps,  to  that  singular 

VOL.   XCVII.— 2. 


i8  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

display  of  practical  intelligence),  and  for  one  at  least  of  the  family, 
all  problems  got  solved. 

On  the  heels  of  this  sad  event,  Nicholas,  with  his  remaining 
boy  and  girl,  was  invited  by  a  kindly  neighboring  squire,  a  Mr. 
Hickman,  to  visit  his  estate  of  Newpark:  which  forethought  of 
Mr.  Hickman  may  be  supposed  to  have  built  up  the  learned  and 
threadbare  Nicholas,  and  sent  him  home  with  many  new,  though 
brittle  resolutions  in  his  widowed  breast.  His  small  son,  like 
Hazlitt  at  the  same  age,  and  almost  at  the  same  hour,  was  mean- 
while curled  up  on  a  window  sill  reading  Tom  Jones,  and  drawing 
from  it  one  glorious  over-mastering  ambition:  that  of  seeing  for 
himself  the  great  world.  "  The  domestic  scene  was  too  confined  for 
his  expanding  ideas."  So  wrote  a  certain  sympathetic  Mr.  Samuel 
White,  long  after  and  in  sober  earnest,  of  Tom.  With  his  book, 
two  shillings,  and  one  clean  shirt  stuffed  into  the  pocket  of  his 
nankeen  trousers,  the  embryo  "  Burns  of  Ireland,"  giving  neither 
to  his  host  nor  to  his  parent  any  warning,  ran  away  from  Newpark, 
and  made  a  bee  line  for  Dublin.  Before  midnight,  he  had  two 
adventures.  Footsore,  and  thinking  to  lodge  there,  he  came  to  a 
solitary  cabin  in  a  wood.  The  occupants  turned  out  to  be  five 
miserable-looking  children,  an  aged  woman  dumb  with  grief,  and  a 
younger  woman's  corpse,  stretched  out  on  a  board  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor.  Tom  went  in,  sat  a  moment  by  the  fire,  spoke  a  condol- 
ing word,  and  in  his  new  role  of  rich  tourist,  bestowed  on  the 
grandam  one  of  his  shillings.  Having  gone  his  way,  he  presently 
returned,  nominally  to  fetch  his  walking-stick  left  behind,  but  really 
to  press  upon  the  sorrowing  creatures  the  only  money  he  had  left. 
Apparently,  there  was  a  sweet  action,  "  all  conscience  and  tendre 
herte,"  as  dear  Father  Chaucer  says! 

But  a  knowledge  of  Dermody's  character,  which  was  all  of 
a  piece  from  childhood,  brushes  the  bloom  clean  off  the  deed.  He 
could  not  by  the  law  of  his  being  have  held  on  an  hour  longer 
to  those  slippery  coins.  He  was  never  charitable,  he  was  simply 
non-prehensile:  the  prime  moral  necessity  for  him  was  not  to 
share  nor  even  to  spend,  but  to  shed  and  to  scatter.  Back  to  the 
road  went  the  pilgrim,  and  stumbling  into  some  wind-swept  me- 
diaeval ruins,  there  abode,  not  indeed  with  intent  to  sleep,  but  in 
order  to  think  out  a  poem,  which,  in  its  own  nervous  language, 
should 

— lend  a  venerable  dread 
To  the  lone  Abbey's  rocking  head. 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  19 

The  experienced  author's  pity  flowed  forthwith  over  the  ad- 
jacent graves  of  the  victims  of 

Superstition,  fiend  deform. 

We  get  through  him  a  glimpse  of  the  "  fat  Abbot,"  the  "  friar's 
secret  glee,"  and  (interesting  addendum !)  white-veiled  shades  "  dul- 
ling their  bright  eyes  in  the  dread  abode," — all  the  funny  old  un- 
historic  paraphernalia  dear  to  tradition.  Out  of  these  monastic 
Gothic  shadows  suddenly  sprang  a  grotesque  figure,  flourishing  a 
cudgel  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  and,  in  appropriate  extension  of 
the  mood  of  the  small  Orangeman  who  was  startled  by  the  stave, 
loudly  singing  Lillabullero.  It  was  the  parish  clerk,  returning  from 
a  neighboring  fair,  and  cutting  across  country  in  no  dejected  tem- 
per. Tom  ran  after  him.  The  conversation  was  voluble,  and 
turned  on  politics  and  religion:  for  were  they  not  in  Ireland? 
Presently  the  parish  clerk  vanished  down  a  lane;  total  darkness 
supervened,  providentially  relieved  by  the  sound  of  wheels,  and 
of  a  human  voice,  this  time  that  of  a  carrier  with  whom  the  child 
was  well  acquainted,  and  who  offered  him  a  ride  and  a  crust  of 
bread.  That  carrier,  moved  by  what  representations  we  know  not, 
seconded  the  runaway  to  such  good  purpose  that  he  conveyed  him 
practically  the  whole  distance  from  Ennis  to  Dublin,  one  hundred 
and  forty  English  miles.  Creation  viewed  on  such  an  extensive 
scale,  and  for  several  days  on  end,  again  provoked  the  bardling's 
poetic  fire;  it  burst  into  some  decasyllabic  couplets,  smooth 
as  Pope's,  on  the  benefits  of  travel. 

Who  like  a  Worm  in  one  dull  spot  would  crawl  ? 

and  so  forth  and  so  on,  exclaims  the  soaring  Muse  imparadised  on 
the  van.  Dublin,  in  the  shadow  of  her  enchanting  hills  being 
reached,  Tom  promptly  and  successfully  lost  the  benevolent  carrier. 
Now  for  life !  The  clean  shirt,  with  its  frilled  ruffles,  is  made 
into  merchandise;  and  on  the  proceeds,  three  blissful  days  float  by. 
Presently  Tom  remembers  that  he  somehow  provided  himself,  ere 
leaving  home,  with  a  letter  to  an  eminent  apothecary  in  College- 
Green  ;  and  thither  he  goes,  only  to  be  received  by  that  worthy  with 
chilly  skepticism,  and  cast  anew  upon  the  tide  of  street-life.  The 
Dublin  bookstalls  are  almost  as  enchanting  as  those  on  the  Quais 
in  Paris,  and  inevitably  and  strongly  did  they  attract  the  doctorcule 
sine  libris.  Once,  when  he  put  forth  a  small  grimy  hand  towards 


20  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

a  Greek  dramatist,  the  alarmed  owner,  suspicious  of  so  much  lore 
in  a  hungry-looking  gamin,  hurried  up  from  a  cellar  entrance  to 
rescue  his  property.  Having  come  to  scoff,  the  man  remained  to 
pray:  for  he  ended  by  inviting  the  accomplished  infant  to  dinner, 
and  by  then  engaging  him  as  tutor  for  his  son!  This  pleasing 
appointment,  however,  presently  came  to  grief.  Pupil  and  master, 
exact  contemporaries,  fell  out  most  unphilosophically  over  subjects 
probably  only  remotely  connected  with  the  accidence;  and  the 
parent-patron,  called  in  to  arbitrate,  let  the  wild  hawk  from  Ennis 
shake  off  his  jesses.  Mindful,  however,  of  Tom's  friendless  con- 
dition, the  good  man  recommended  the  young  stranger  to  a  neigh- 
boring tradesman,  one  Lynch,  who  stood  in  need  of  an  attendant  in 
his  little  second-hand  shop.  Here,  too,  were  books,  books  by  the 
hundred,  and  hither  came  all  Trinity  College,  in  search  of  bargains 
and  exchanges.  The  shop-boy,  with  his  beauty  and  his  big  black 
eyes,  his  thin  little  frame,  his  now  tattered  attire,  became  an  object 
of  instant  attention.  One  youth  borrowed  over-night  the  manu- 
script of  Tom's  poems,  and  whispered  that  he  would  send  him 
a  pretty  shirt.  Next  day,  the  loan  was  returned:  the  parcel  held 
nothing  else,  and  was  provocative  of  scowls  and  kicks  and  a  foun- 
tain-flow of  words  from  the  disappointed  clerk.  The  proprietor 
intervened  to  save  the  repute  of  his  customer,  and  the  shirtless 
one,  silenced  and  driven  to  bay,  grabbed  pencil  and  paper  to  jot 
down  a  four-line  epigram.  This  was  deemed  by  the  shopman's 
kind  soul  so  clever  and  convincing,  that  it  was  forwarded  to  the 
forgetful  undergraduate.  Needless  to  add,  the  present  was  sent. 
Tom  had  scored :  he  always  scored. 

His  next  inspiration  was  to  quit  the  employ  of  the  excellent 
Lynch.  Once  more  a  freeman  of  Dublin  streets,  he  came  imme- 
diately to  a  halt  at  another  of  the  innumerable  old  booths  where 
books  were  stacked  up:  and  seeing  a  Longinus,  and  seeing  an 
amiable  gentleman  somewhat  contiguous  to  the  Longinus,  he  popped 
his  young  designing  nose  into  the  thorny  text.  The  gentleman, 
Dr.  Houlton,  was  instantly  limed.  He  opened  conversation,  tested 
the  boy's  Greek,  found  it  prodigious,  and  took  him  home,  learning 
many  autobiographical  particulars,  mostly  accurate,  upon  the  way. 
By  poetic  license,  however,  he  was  told  that  Tom  had  begged  his 
way  to  Dublin!  There  followed  a  generous  meal,  much  Homer 
and  Horace,  and  great  edification  over  the  guest,  "  a  little  being 
composed  entirely  of  mind."  In  fact,  Dr.  Houlton  opened  his  house 
and  heart  to  the  boy,  who,  nothing  loath,  took  possession  of  both,  to 


1913-]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  21 

the  ineffable  satisfaction  of  the  benefactor.  The  two  talked  of  the 
Georgics,  and  of  the  annotations  of  Scaliger  and  of  Madame  Dacier, 
Dr.  Houlton  all  the  while  wondering  delightedly  at  Tom,  at  his 
archness,  his  gestures,  his  adroit  and  correct  speech.  One  day 
the  elder  scholar  gently  challenged  a  couple  of  false  quantities,  and 
was  met  by  scowls  and  peevish  subterfuges,  things  which  had  not 
been  looked  for.  An  acquaintance  of  the  Doctor's,  a  Mr.  French, 
was  a  ripe  classical  scholar,  and  to  him  was  the  eleven-year-old 
paragon  introduced,  looking  so  extremely  babyish  with  his  long  hair, 
his  little  frilled  old-fashioned  collar,  his  delicate  build,  and  his 
grave  face,  that  the  newcomer  thought  some  joke  was  being  played 
upon  him.  However,  he  was  induced  to  tender  the  Elzevir  Horace 
he  carried  in  his  pocket.  Tom  had  never  seen  an  Elzevir:  his 
enthusiasm  rose  at  finding  it  complete :  he  construed,  he  translated, 
he  argued,  he  collated,  in  grand  prancing  style;  and  he  made  such 
droll  knowing  remarks  about  Leuconoe  that  Mr.  French,  doubled 
up  with  laughter,  and  quite  won  over,  rapturously  shook  him  by 
the  hand.  Of  course,  he  gave  him  the  Elzevir,  also  a  handful  of 
silver  coins,  envied  Dr.  Houlton  the  guardianship  of  such  a  ward, 
and  affectionately  took  his  leave. 

Tom  seems  to  have  read  by  day  and  by  night  while  at  Dr. 
Houlton's.  One  morning  at  breakfast  he  announced  a  presenti- 
ment that  the  beginning  of  the  Epitaph  in  Gray's  Elegy  (a  poem,  so 
he  said,  which  he  had  often  perused  with  tears)  would  be  "  not 
unsuitable  for  my  own  humble  tombstone."  This  appears  to  be  the 
first  outward  expression  of  Dermody's  excessive  preoccupation  with 
his  own  genius  and  his  own  fate.  He  had  contracted  the  habit  of 
reading  in  bed,  by  the  light  of  tapers,  which  he  did  not  always  re- 
member to  blow  out.  Dr.  Houlton  objected  to  the  practice  as  dan- 
gerous, and  shortened  the  supply  of  candles,  but  Tom  outwitted  him, 
and  bought  more  for  the  same  purpose.  He  was  found  out,  and  re- 
proved, and  sulked  all  day.  More :  from  that  time  he  showed  a  rad- 
ical and  growing  restlessness.  It  ended  in  a  declared  wish  to  quit 
the  house,  in  which  he  had  spent  but  ten  weeks.  Dr.  Houlton  gave 
him  money,  and  wished  him  a  successful  future.  Tom  was  un- 
perturbed, and  expressed  no  regrets,  either  for  material  loss,  or 
for  the  forfeit  of  so  much  friendship  and  chivalrous  care.  The 
good  Doctor,  in  short,  was  an  episode,  an  old  love :  and  it  was  time 
to  be  on  with  a  new ! 

Within  a  few  days  the  boy  had  squandered  every  penny,  and 
went  about  needing  food  and  shelter,  and,  in  the  nick  of  time, 


22  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

getting  both.  A  certain  scene-painter  at  the  Dublin  Theatre,  one 
Coyle,  had  been  employed  on  a  piece  of  work  at  Dr.  Houlton's, 
and  into  his  ravished  ear  Tom  had  poured  ere  now  much  imposing 
historical  lore.  On  this  good-hearted  creature,  whose  house  was 
in  Dorset  Street,  the  elfin  diplomat  now  began  to  call,  and  even 
as  he  foresaw  that  it  would,  that  large  and  poor  family  expanded, 
to  welcome  yet  another  member.  There  was  no  servant,  and  Mrs. 
Coyle  sent  the  guest  on  divers  errands :  one  of  these  was  to  carry 
his  morning  meal  to  her  husband,  then  too  busy  to  step  home  from 
his  work.  Haughty,  Tom  took  most  unwillingly  to  his  new  avoca- 
tion, but  eventually  he  settled  down  not  only  as  commissary,  but  as 
superintendent  of  glue,  oil,  and  color-pots.  Here  in  the  greenroom 
he  wrote  a  pasquinade  on  Astley's  circus  feats  which  greatly  excited 
the  performers,  bringing  them  in  a  drove  to  behold  the  wonderful 
author.  There  he  stood,  without  shirt  or  waistcoat,  in  an  enor- 
mous pair  of  trousers  never  cut  down  to  fit  him,  encasing  him 
from  his  armpits  to  his  loose-slippered  feet;  in  his  hands  were  a 
hairbrush  and  a  pot  of  size,  and  his  tiny  naked  chest  was  grotes- 
quely smeared  with  paint  of  every  hue,  like  a  native  Briton's.  Thus 
did  the  poet,  subdued  to  what  he  worked  in,  turn  what  was  dis- 
coverable of  his  intensely  intelligent  countenance  upon  the  irruption 
of  the  actors,  thus  suddenly  become  his  ardent  admirers.  One  of 
them  was  Mr.  Robert  Owenson,  an  accomplished,  helpful,  disin- 
terested man,  self-made,  as  the  phrase  goes,  whom  Goldsmith  had 
taken  pride  in  introducing  to  Garrick.  Mr.  Owenson  fell  madly 
in  love  on  the  instant,  and  led  young  Thomas  Dermody  home,  to  be 
washed  and  fed. 

II. 

As  for  Mrs.  Owenson,  she  played  up  to  her  lord  in  the  most 
maternal  way,  and  wept  over  the  waif  and  his  rags.  Tom  was  at 
once  given  a  task:  to  turn  out  some  impromptu  verses  on  Dublin 
University.  Results  were  such  as  to  fix  in  the  new  protector  his 
purpose  to  bring  the  boy  to  the  notice  of  that  sacrosanct  institu- 
tion. One  of  the  dons  was  a  distant  relative  of  Mr.  Owenson's: 
the  celebrated  Dr.  Matthew  Young,  then  Professor  of  Natural 
Philosophy,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Clonfert;  and  that  very  day 
he  was  privileged  to  hear  in  his  drawing-room  the  charms  of  Tom, 
and  to  discover  the  prodigy  on  his  own  doorstep,  where  Tom  had 
advisedly  been  left  in  the  rain,  until  eloquence  indoors  should  have 


1913-]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  23 

put  in  its  work.  Small  and  wet  and  ridiculous  and  shivering,  the 
object  of  interest  was  hurried  into  the  house,  and  planted  in  its 
lordliest  armchair  next  the  fire.  "  By  Jove !  "  said  Dr.  Young,  in 
his  playfullest  mood,  thereby  doing  no  great  good  to  Tom's  soul, 
"  by  Jove !  you  are  fit  to  sit  by  the  side  of  the  King."  He  instantly 
arranged  that  the  child  should  come  thrice  a  week  to  be  coached 
for  entrance  examinations.  Murray's  Logic  was  one  of  the  books : 
the  donor  of  it  fell  into  a  somewhat  immoderate  fit  of  laughter 
on  being  told  by  Tom  that  it  was  a  work  of  supererogation,  as 
almost  anybody  can  quibble,  without  studying  to  quibble. 

Kind  Mr.  Owenson  now  took  little  Dermody  into  his  family, 
thanking  heaven  for  this  seeming  substitute  for  the  only  son  he 
had  but  lately  lost.  There  were  two  little  daughters,  growing  up 
to  be  both  lovely  and  clever.  (The  elder  became  well-known  in 
later  life  as  Lady  Morgan,  wrote  novels  which  were  considered 
brilliant,  and  verses  of  a  sentimental  cast,  now  forgotten,  held 
liberal  and  patriotic  views,  and  made  distinguished  friends. )  There 
was  a  mother  worth  having  in  the  person  of  Mrs.  Owenson,  who 
was  a  perfect  reservoir  of  what  our  ancestors  would  call  the  noblest 
feelings  of  humanity :  by  all  three  Tom  was  petted  and  worshipped, 
and  looked  upon  with  awe.  His  first  act,  on  receiving  new  attire 
such  as  befitted  his  improved  condition,  was  to  make  a  solemn 
bonfire  of  the  old  upon  the  biggest  domestic  hearth,  apostrophizing 
in  highly  humorous  and  Hudibrastic  strain  the  youthful  breeches 
thus  offered  to  the  gods.  He  and  that  extraordinary  person,  Dr. 
Young,  however,  did  not  pull  well  together.  Mental  discipline 
was  hardly  in  the  line  of  the  inspirational  Tom,  and  he  revolted 
from  what  was  to  him  sheer  drudgery.  The  day  came  when  he 
turned  truant,  and  with  adroit  and  prolonged  duplicity  fooled 
both  Mr.  Owenson  and  Dr.  Young.  The  former  forgave  him  as 
soon  as  the  fault,  once  found  out,  was  confessed,  with  the  ingenious 
rider  to  the  confession  that  the  bent  of  Tom's  mind  was  towards 
other  studies :  forgave  him  not  without  a  grave  reminder  of  the 
violation  of  honor  which  such  conduct  implied. 

At  this  very  time,  there  called  at  the  benevolent  actor's  house  a 
schoolmaster-clergyman,  the  Rev.  Gilbert  Austin.  He,  need  it  be 
said?  was  suddenly  transported  with  joy  on  meeting  the  resident 
phenomenon;  and  Mr.  Owenson,  ever  generous,  let  no  word  of 
his  diminish  the  dazzling  impression  his  foster-son  had  made.  Mr. 
Austin  desired  the  latter  to  attend  his  own  very  select  academy, 
without  fee,  while  still  residing  at  home.  Tom  was  pleased  to  try 


24  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

the  experiment,  but  the  distance  was  considerable  between  his  desk, 
and  his  meals  and  bed.  Mr.  Austin  therefore,  transferred  him, 
bag  and  baggage,  to  his  own  house;  introduced  him,  as  Mr.  Owen- 
son  had  previously  done,  to  all  his  friends,  opened  a  successful 
subscription  for  his  education  and  support,  and  during  the  Spring 
of  1789  printed  in  a  private  issue,  and  at  his  own  expense,  a  volume 
of  Poems  of  Thomas  Dermody.  The  boy-author,  at  the  date  of 
this  publication,  was  some  two  months  past  his  fourteenth  birthday ; 
but  good  Mr.  Austin,  being  somehow  misled,  announced  in  the  pref- 
ace that  Tom  had  not  yet  attained  his  thirteenth  year,  which  must 
have  been  taken  by  everybody  to  mean  that  he  was  not  yet  twelve ! 
In  this  preface  it  is  stated  that  the  contents  are  selected,  but  un- 
edited and  unaltered;  and  a  strong  and  well- worded  appeal  is  made 
for  the  interesting  genius  so  much  in  need  of  future  protection  and 
furtherance.  The  book  starts  off  with  a  pre-Byronic  exposition  of 
the  past  miseries  which  by  now  were  beginning  to  be  Tom's  most 
precious  stock-in-trade.  The  faultless  numbers  are  addressed 
to  Mr.  Austin,  and  do  not  fail  to  invoke  their  originator, 

Ah,  doom'd  to  suffer  all  that  Man  can  bear, 
Far  from  a  soothing  father's  anxious  care ! 

This  abrupt  reappearance  of  Nicholas  Dermody  in  his  son's 
visions  is  instructive;  the  soothing  father,  left  behind  and  never 
yet  communicated  with,  seems  to  have  sat  in  Ennis  unprotesting, 
while  Tom,  loose  upon  the  great  world,  was  making,  after  his 
own  fashion,  such  extraordinary  headway.  One  is  glad  to  hear 
the  lyrist  express  his  intention  to  sing  Mr.  Austin's  praises  "  to 
the  verge  of  life."  Nor  does  he  quite  forget  to  hail  Mr.  Owenson, 
though 

Long  has  my  Muse,  devoid  of  wonted  fire, 
Her  song  neglected,  and  unstrung  her  lyre. 

The  scribe,  in  fact,  is  ever  in  the  forefront  of  his  own  mental 
landscape:  a  more  personal  and  concrete  poet  does  not  adorn  the 
very  personal  and  concrete  eighteenth  century.  The  charming, 
animated,  informal  Owenson  girls,  Sydney  and  Olivia,  come  in  for 
a  share  of  their  foster-brother's  maturest  admonition.  They  are  to 
avoid  "  idiot  suitors,"  a  "  tinsel  race  "  armed  with  "  pleasing  lies;" 
they  are  to  "  look  round  "  for  an  "  honest  face  "  like  the  incom- 
parable Tom's ! 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  25 

The  boy  was  now  living  in  the  full  atmosphere  of  that  humane, 
cultured,  extremely  animated  society  which  was  to  be  found  in 
Dublin  before  the  Union.  He  studied  literature  by  day,  and  be- 
stowed himself  on  parties  and  "  symposiums "  in  the  evening. 
This  was  a  course  of  life  then  thought  to  be  the  thing  for  "  little 
poets,"  in  order  to  instill  into  them  the  true  principles  of  knowledge 
and  virtue.  One  of  his  schoolfellows  at  Mr.  Austin's  was  the  eldest 
son  of  that  admirable  Irishman,  Lord  Charlemont :  whereby  Lady 
Charlemont,  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  and  other  exalted  personages, 
all  fell  captive  to  Tom's  attractions.  They  busied  themselves  over 
him  to  so  much  avail  that  Mr.  Austin  was  at  one  time  able  to  place 
in  the  bank  no  less  than  £1,500  towards  the  maintenance  of  his 
ward,  and  with  promises  of  yearly  renewal.  Tom,  however,  re- 
fused, according  to  his  biographer  Mr.  Raymond,  to  be  "  formed 
into  greatness."  Daily  teas,  in  a  fresh  collar,  with  peers  and 
dowagers,  were  well  enough  for  a  week  or  a  month;  but  his  real 
taste,  from  first  to  last,  were  Tony  Lumpkin's,  and  many  an  ele- 
gant invitation  went  to  the  wall  unanswered,  in  order  that  alehouse 
cronies,  tinkers,  gypsies,  and  other  unmentionable  offshoots  of  city 
life  might  sport  in  the  tangles  of  Mr.  T.  Dermody's  delighted  hair. 
Somewhere,  somehow,  when  he  had  small  innocence  left  to  lose, 
the  boy  met  a  certain  disreputable  Martin,  by  profession  a  drawing- 
master;  this  person  aimed  at  getting  a  foothold  in  Mr.  Austin's 
aristocratic  academy.  Tom  was  what  is  called  good-natured,  the 
term,  in.  his  case,  connoting  the  absence  of  any  moral  backbone 
whatever:  so  the  man  found  him  an  easy  accomplice  to  bribe. 

The  bibulous  Martin  drew  a  flower,  a  very  personable  flower 
it  seems  to  have  been,  and  Tom  agreed  to  show  it  to  Mr.  Austin 
as  his  own  work,  accomplished,  as  by  magic,  after  three  lessons. 
Any  instructor  so  miraculously  successful  as  that,  might  well 
be  promoted  to  a  position  worthy  of  his  powers!  The  party  of 
the  second  part  duly  exhibited  the  specimen  to  his  friend  and  patron, 
told  the  tale  he  had  agreed  to  tell,  strongly  recommended  Martin 
as  uniquely  expert,  and  was  disconcerted  to  find  that  Mr.  Austin 
was  not  taken  in  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  he  quietly  accused  Tom, 
who  vigorously  attempted  to  brazen  it  out,  of  the  lie  and  the  cheat. 
Matters  were  clinched  when  Mr.  Austin  required  him  to  copy  the 
incriminating  flower.  He  was  unable  to  do  it,  and  he,  the  star  of 
intellectual  assemblies,  with  fame  at  his  beck  and  call,  was  sent  in 
disgrace  to  serve  awhile  in  the  kitchen.  No  one  who  knows  boys 
and  boys'  schools  will  suppose  that  his  lot  there  was  allowed  to  be 


26  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

one  of  heavenly  calm.  Tom,  for  some  time,  had  been  boarded  out 
on  Graf  ton  Street  with  a  zealous  Methodist,  Mr.  Aickbome;  and 
with  joy  he  flew  nightly  from  the  academy,  now  a  penal  cell,  to  his 
luxurious  lodgings.  Across  the  street  lived  Mr.  Samuel  Whyte, 
Sheridan's  schoolmaster  and  relative  by  marriage.  How  the  neigh- 
boring rebel  first  caught  his  eye  is  not,  and  need  not  be,  apparent. 
"  Suffice  it  is  to  say,"  as  the  orator  remarked,  that  Mr.  Whyte,  as 
if  by  incantation,  arose  upon  the  scene,  to  love,  honor,  and  cherish 
the  indomitable  Tom.  So  soon  as  he  had  listened  to  those  lament- 
able annals  which  lost  nothing  with  each  re-telling,  so  soon  as  he 
had  apprehended  some  features  of  that  juvenile  facility  impressive 
to  warm-hearted  Irish  faith,  Mr.  Whyte  (himself  author  of 
many  critical  and  educational  books),  invited  to  dinner  a  dozen 
litterateurs  and  connoisseurs,  that  they  might  make  acquaintance 
with  the  Marvel,  and  be  drawn  to  adore.  The  guests  came,  but  not 
the  arch-guest;  the  viands  were  brought  in,  but  not  he!  Servants 
were  dispatched  to  inquire.  Word  was  presently  forthcoming  that 
the  bardling  had  strolled  away  with  grimy  persons  unknown;  the 
company  lingered  on  till  midnight,  but  there  was  no  apparition  of 
the  expected  one,  and  no  apology  in  lieu  of  that  apparition.  Mr. 
Whyte  was  of  a  forgiving  nature,  and  despite  this  untoward  reef 
in  the  mouth  of  the  social  harbor,  the  two  sailed  amicably  together 
thenceforward.  Meanwhile,  Tom  continued  to  dwell  in  Mr.  Aus- 
tin's reformatory,  the  kitchen.  One  luckless  day,  he  reverted  to 
a  kind  of  revenge  he  always  favored.  He  satirized,  not  the  sit- 
uation nor  himself  (as  the  young  Villon  would  have  done)  but  his 
benefactor,  and  all  the  Austin  family.  The  quatrain  was  accident- 
ally dropped  upon  the  floor  at  Mr.  Aickbome's,  and  was  discovered 
by  that  functionary  himself,  who,  contrary  to  the  usual  run  of 
mankind,  had  conceived  no  passion  for  Master  Dermody's  mind 
and  manners.  Mr.  Austin  was  shown  the  manuscript.  The  result 
was  that  he  tore  up  those  poems  of  the  boy's  which  he  had  collected 
for  future  publication,  returned  to  the  subscribers  the  whole  of  the 
money  given  for  his  education  and  support,  and  refused,  in  pardon- 
able indignation,  even  to  admit  him  to  his  presence.  And  thus 
was  Tom  once  more  not  undeservedly,  thrust  upon  the  same  old 
step-mothering  world. 

Mr.  Austin  was,  perhaps  in  his  finality,  too  disciplinary;  but 
a  good  man  cannot  be  a  headmaster  without  paying  for  it  by  some 
psychic  deterioration.  His  resentment  created  a  new  Dublin  for 
the  young  outcast,  who  was  not  only  unpitied,  but  shunned  as  a 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  27 

moral  monster,  on  all  sides.  Then,  with  his  usual  resource,  Tom 
bethought  him  of  the  Owensons,  with  whom  he  had  had  no  lasting 
quarrel.  Alas,  Mr.  Owenson  was  absent,  Mrs.  Owenson  was 
dead.  As  a  next  move  he  wrote  a  maturely  dignified  letter  to  the 
Secretary  of  War,  and  took  it  over  himself  to  Dublin  Castle.  This 
gentleman,  Mr.  Sackville  Hamilton,  had  previously  given  Tom 
money;  he  now  did  so  again,  and  in  larger  measure.  The  boy 
began  to  write  for  a  daily  paper:  any  daily  paper  in  the  land 
would  print  poetry,  circa  1789-1790.  It  may  be  taken  for  granted 
that  he  rhapsodized,  in  many  moods,  on  his  recent  woes,  and  his 
injured  sensibilities.  One  of  these  effusions  may  be  worth  quoting 
for  its  vigor,  and  its  signs  of  acquaintance  with  the  biographies  of 
great  men ;  incidentally,  for  its  mendacities  and  audacities. 

Scarce  fourteen  summers  crown  my  age, 
And  yet  on  life's  oft- varied  stage 
(Such  are  the  hapless  poet's  losses), 
I've  met  with  fourteen  thousand  crosses: 
Debts,  duns,  proud  patrons  all  so  squeamish, 

Who  damn  one  for  a  single  blemish, 

Full  many  a  bitter  pinch  ye  gave  me, 
From  which,  O  god  Apollo !  save  me. 


That  I  have  never  seen  the  child 

Of  injur'd  merit  weep,  and  smiled; 

That  I  have  never  heard  the  poor 

Sigh  out  their  plaints,  and  closed  the  door ; 

That  I  have  never  wished  to  wrong 

The  good  man  in  satiric  song, 

Bear  witness,  Heaven  that  know'st  my  heart! 

And  now,  Oh,  take  thy  minstrel's  part. 

Like  sad  Darius,  bruised  and  beaten 

'Mong  those  by  whom  his  goods  were  eaten; 

Like  Belisarius,  poor  fellow, 

Dressed  up  in  rags  black,  blue,  and  yellow; 

Like  grave  Cervantes  in  a  jail; 

Like  Butler,  without  soothing  ale ; 

Like  Tasso,  praying,  in  the  night, 

His  cat's  clear  eyes  to  lend  him  light; 

Like  Chatterton  who  sung  so  sweet ; 

Like  princely  Theodore  in  the  Fleet; 


28  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

Like  Tippoo  Saib  by  strangers  plundered; 

Like — like — (ah  me,  Sirs!  like  a  hundred) 

Behold  Tom  Dermody  quite  humbled 

From  Fortune's  wheel  (the  gypsy!)  tumbled: 

Petitioning,  in  paltry  verses, 

Great  George's  head-piece  from  long  purses. 

The  moment  Mr.  Owenson  returned  to  town,  the  local  press 
lost  its  most  accomplished  junior  contributor.  It  might  be  thought 
difficult  by  this  time  to  extend  the  circle  of  Tom's  believers.  But 
Mr.  Owenson  again  took  the  field,  and  captured  a  fresh  Maecenas 
in  Mr.  Atkinson,  Judge  Advocate  for  Ireland,  the  author  of  some 
comic  operas  and  comedies  which  have  had  their  day;  and  Mr. 
Atkinson  and  the  Rev.  Edward  Berwick,  in  their  turn,  succeeding 
in  engaging  as  Tom's  principal  and  most  powerful  patroness,  the 
Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings,  widow  of  the  first  Earl  of  Moira, 

— one  made  up 
Of  loveliness  alone: 
A  woman,  of  her  gentler  sex 
The  seeming  paragon. 

This  lady,  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Selina,  Countess  of  Hunting- 
don, the  Methodist  light,  furnished  him  with  every  necessity,  and 
placed  him  at  her  own  expense  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Henry 
Boyd,  the  translator  of  Dante,  in  the  Rectory  at  Killeagh,  near 
Tullamore. 

How  it  came  about  is  indeed  "  rop  in  mistry :"  but  in  Killeagh 
Rectory  did  Thomas  Dermody  abide  for  two  mortal  years!  Not, 
however,  in  the  peace  of  the  saints.  Despite  the  Countess*  wise  and 
bountiful  solicitude;  despite  the  very  literary  Mr.  Boyd's  extraor- 
dinarily tender  forbearance ;  despite  his  own  new  interests  and  very 
great  mental  prowess  in  his  changed  condition,  the  nearest  public 
house  took  on  a  glamor  superior  to  that  of  all  the  mountain  lawns 
of  Parnassus.  '  'Twixt  quill  and  can  "  is  one  of  his  own  phrases 
about  himself.  He  could  always  reinforce  his  badness  by  ample 
rhetoric. 

Censures  are  liberally  bestowed  on  the  children  of  the 
Muse,  [he  says  magisterially],  by  those  phlegmatical  block- 
heads, who,  wanting  warmth  themselves,  decry  its  possessors. 

; !  do  not  fear  to  assert  that  relaxation  and  corporeal 

indulgence  are  both  grateful  and  necessary  to  the  overlabored 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  29 

intellect;  and  it  is  certain  that  Addison's  humor  was  most  in- 
imitable after  a  sprightly  libation  to  the  social  powers 

Examples  are  sufficient  without  going  back  to  the  time  of 
Anacreon,  Pindar,  and  Horace,  the  professed  bons  vivants  of 
antiquity. 

However,  he  kept  Lady  Moira  well  in  the  dark  regarding  his  less 
starry  propensities,  and  Mr.  Boyd  was  no  Aickbome,  to  report  on 
them  and  him.  The  Triumph  of  Gratitude,  the  title  of  a  pastoral 
written  at  this  time,  aimed  with  cunning  art  directly  at  the  sen- 
sibilities of  the  elderly  patroness.  In  his  dedicatory  humor  Tom, 
as  we  say  in  vulgar  parlance,  "  laid  it  on  thick."  Euphranor,  the 
chief  shepherd,  stands  for  the  author.  The  blank  verse  balances  it- 
self most  neatly,  with  an  adjective  (and  generally  the  quite  inevit- 
able adjective,  too!)  apportioned  to  every  other  noun,  and  plays 
about 

Ether-mantled  Truth  and  oliv'd  Peace. 

It  is  a  matter  of  astonishment  both  how  faultless  it  manages 
to  be,  and  how  it  says  absolutely  nothing.  It  is  all  the  kind  of 
thing  which  nowadays  men  simply  cannot  read,  and  which  shall  be 
remembered  by  them  no  more  at  all  for  ever.  The  variety  of 
Tom's  poetic  output  addressed  to,  or  intended  for,  his  kind  Dowager 
Countess,  was  immense:  one  begins  to  sniff  in  the  underwoods 
for  the  reason  of  it,  and  the  reason  is  not  long  in  forthcoming.  One 
fine  April  morning,  he  writes  her  a  letter  in  which  he  reminds  her 
ineffably  well  how  "  God  has  endowed  you  with  the  capacity  to 
relieve  the  son  of  sorrow,"  and  he  proceeds  to  add :  "  I  know  I 
shall  never  rest  till  I  try  the  grand  theatre  of  literature,  London, 
and  would  wish  then  to  have  my  own  free-will ! "  He  asks  for 
introductory  letters,  and  proceeds  in  a  bold  burst  of  not  unex- 
pected eloquence: 

How  soon  might  you,  from  the  well-deserved  wealth  you 
possess,  bestow  some  untransitory  possession  on  the  humblest 
of  your  creatures,  and  smooth  the  road  of  life  for  ever!  How 
soon  by  only  your  recommendation  might  you  cheer  a  heart  long 
broken,  and  enliven  your  soul  with  the  thought  of  freeing  one 
of  your  dependants  from  future  worldly  mischance ! 

Lady  Moira  was  less  a  sayer  than  a  doer:  she  did  not  at  once 
answer  this  epistle  of  the  fifteen-year-old  heart  "  long  broken," 


30  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

but  her  wish,  then  and  ever,  was  to  advance  Tom  in  all  his  legitimate 
desires. 

That  caged  eaglet  was  by  no  means  unhappy  in  Killeagh.  His 
antennae  of  sociability  touched  the  whole  circumference  of  the  place. 
His  rhymes,  ever  controlled  by  the  subject  immediately  under 
his  nose,  expended  themselves  on  everything  within  range,  begin- 
ning with  the  Dean,  and  not  ending  with  the  weaver  and  the  piper. 
Essays,  too,  of  a  Maginnis-like  texture,  were  produced  about 
Woman,  "  that  fair  seductive  female  Satan,"  and  a  Widow,  "  the 
most  tremendous  Wild  Beast  in  creation,"  and  the  "  rigorous  but 
salutary  "  genius  of  Oliver  Protector.  The  uppish  little  boy  has 
his  say,  too,  about  Shakespeare,  considered  by  him  "  a  vineyard 
of  plenty,  where  many  of  the  finest  branches  are  ruined  for  want  of 
a  pruning-knife;"  or  he  is  a  poet  (counter  to  the  philosophical 
soarings  of  the  preferred  Milton)  "  whose  ecstasies  are  the  flights 
of  an  invisible  being."  Again,  he  is  "  a  cataract  at  one  time  rush- 
ing through  rocks  and  caverns,  foaming  and  terrifying,  then  sink- 
ing into  a  sluggish  calm,  with  nothing  but  the  bubbles  of  his  former 
sublimity.  Milton  is  a  full,  not  overflowing,  river;  and  like  the 
river  to  the  sea,  hastening  towards  his  illustrious  design,  never 
pausing,  and  seldom  dangerous  to  the  passengers  (  !)"  And  once 
more :  "  The  wild  scenery  of  Shakespeare  is  the  unconnected  magic 
of  Merlin,  variously  diverting:  that  of  Milton  is  like  Plato's  Ely- 
sium, enchanting,  yet  built  on  the  basis  of  an  opinion  which  bears 
the  air  of  probability." 

All  this  is  in  strict  accord  with  the  old-fashioned  ideas  of 
"  Fancy's  child  "  and  his  accidental,  indeliberate  artistry,  but  it  is 
historically  interesting,  as  a  late  eighteenth-century  attempt  at 
criticism  on  the  subject,  and  it  has  never  been  gathered  into  any 
appendix  of  Shakespeare's  Century  of  Praise.  One  of  Dermody's 
treatises  written  in  the  country  rectory  gives  a  playful  and  prob- 
ably allegorical  account  of  a  tramp  dog,  but  it  betrays  no  gleam 
of  the  loving  fun  which  would  flow  from  the  true  animalier.  An- 
other paper  is  entitled  A  Mad  World,  My  Masters!  or,  Remarks  on 
the  Present  State  of  Affairs  in  a  Letter  Just  Arrived  from  John 
Bull,  Esq.,  to  Mr.  Paddy  Whack.  Its  usefulness  is  that  it  gives  one 
a  first  inkling  into  the  heartless  and  thoroughly  servile  attitude  on 
national  questions,  of  one  who  grew  up  in  the  rashly  heroic  gen- 
eration of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  of  Robert  Emmet. 

Very  many,  and  among  the  earliest  of  their  kind  in  point  of 
date,  are  Dermody's  imitations  of  Burns.  Dialect  and  all,  he  follows 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  31 

his  robust  model,  and  talks  to  himself  as  to  a  very  wicked  blade 
indeed. 

Gude  faith !  with  all  thy  roguish  trick, 
Thy  Pegasus  has  got  a  kick; 
Flat  as  a  tombstone,  dumb  as  stick 

Thou  liest  at  last : 

God  send  thou  gang'st  not  to  auld  Nick 
For  frolicks  past! 


At  Judgment-Day,  when  strong-lung'd  cherub 
Shall  pipe  all  hands,  frae  silence  here  up, 
He'll  know  thee,  Tom,  to  be  a  queer  cub, 

And  gie  thee  quarters : 
Wouns !    What  a  sicht  to  see  thy  knee  rub 

'Gainst  saints  and  martyrs! 

After  which,  hear  this: 
"  By  many  wrong'd,  Gay  Bloom  of  Song, 
Thou  yet  art  innocent  of  wrong! 
Virtue  and  Truth  to  thee  belong, 

Virtue  and  Truth, 
Though  Pleasure  led  thy  step  along, 

And  trapp'd  thy  youth." 

Now  the  vindications  of  this  last  stanza  are  by  no  means 
ironic.  This  dreadful  young  person  was  sincere  in  one  thing:  his 
colossal  self-love.  With  such  an  unparalleled  record  of  profaned 
friendships  and  wasted  benefits  and  favors  strewing  his  way,  he 
could  quite  calmly  allude  to  himself  as  one  who  had  been 

Unnoticed  for  talents  he  had,  and  forgot; 
But  most  famously  noticed  for  faults  he  had  not ! 

One  of  his  several  self-enamored  elegies  and  epitaphs  has 
seriousness  and  some  beauty,  though  it  is  manifestly  an  echo  of 
Collins'  lyrical  sigh  over  Thomson's  grave  at  Richmond.  What 
vitiates  it  is  its  false  characterization.  Take  this  quatrain : 

The  graceful  tear  of  pity  spare, 

(To  him  the  bright  drop  once  belong'd!) 

For  well  his  doom  deserves  thy  care: 

Much,  much  he  suffer'd,  much  was  wrong'd. 


32  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

Place  beside  it  the  similar  utterance  of  a  poet  also  Irish,  also  ulti- 
mately a  wreck,  born  the  year  after  Dermody  died. 

Him  grant  a  grave  to,  ye  pitying  noble; 

Deep  in  your  bosoms  there  let  him  dwell. 
He  too,  had  tears  for  all  souls  in  trouble 

Here,  and  in  Hell. 

The  difference  is  not  so  much  literary  as  moral.     Clarence  Mangan 
said  what  was  true. 

III. 

The  Dowager  Countess  of  Moira,  in  most  motherly  fashion, 
tried  again  and  again  to  correct  the  foibles  which,  as  she  could 
not  but  learn  in  time,  sullied  Tom's  character.  But  seated  on  the 
unreachable  eminence  of  his  pride,  he  bewailed  that  "you  seem 
determined  to  misunderstand  every  good  sentiment  of  my  heart:" 
this  chiefly  by  way  of  answer  to  her  gentle  and  quite  authentic 
reproach  that  he  had  flattered  her,  and  that  she  did  not  wish  flattery 
from  him.  Eventually,  he  commits  to  her  ladyship's  "humane 
disposal  "  his  future  career :  "  whether  Dublin  College,  or  Glasgow, 
or  Oxford  is  to  receive  me,  is  equally  indifferent."  Two  months 
later,  he  is  "  sorry,"  by  post,  that 

the  only  person  in  the  world  whom  I  can  call  a  real  friend  and 

patron  should  conceive  ideas  so  horrid  of  my  disposition 

My  last  and  most  sincere  petition  is  that  you  will  remove  me 
from  Killeagh.  I  confess  that  when  pressed  down  by  mis- 
fortunes either  real  or  imaginary,  being  of  a  melancholy  turn, 
I  soon  proceed  to  desperation,  and  do  that  which  I  afterwards 
view  with  perfect  abhorrence. 

From  Moira  House  in  town  there  came  presently  a  letter 
signed  "  E.  M.  H.  [astings],"  so  well  thought  out,  so  kind,  so 
salutary,  that  nothing  could  exceed  its  value,  had  it  been  but  ac- 
cepted and  applied.  Lady  Moira  reminds  the  boy,  who  a  week 
before  had  attained  the  age  of  sixteen,  that  he  had  yet  time  to  study, 
to  form  his  mind,  and  to  acquire  from  Mr.  Boyd  "that  classic 
knowledge  which  is  the  foundation  of  every  other  science,  (so 
our  pre-scientific  ancestors  all  thought  it  was!)  and  the  duty  and 
respectability  of  moral  virtue."  She  goes  on  to  say  that  she  is 
aware  he  thinks  he  knows  everything,  but  that  humility  belongs 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  33 

to  the  largest  minds,  even  in  youth;  that  he  never  can  be  a  great 
poet  without  great  themes;  that  such  a  fuss  would  not  have  been 
made  over  him  had  he  been  a  mere  English  boy  over  in  England; 
that  she  thanks  him  for  his  recently  sent  verses,  -but  cares  very 
little  for  their  reiterated  compliments  and  flatteries;  and  that  so 
long  as  he  acts  with  integrity,  she  promises  to  remain  his  friend. 

In  his  answer,  Tom  (as  he  was  to  do  how  often  thereafter, 
with  futile  unspoken  comparisons  in  mind!)  lays  stress  upon  the 
fate  of  his  boyish  forerunner,  upon  the  fate  of  Chatterton;  Lady 
Moira,  indeed,  who  had  a  great  love  for  the  dead  poet,  having 
warningly  spoken  of  him  first.  Chatterton,  says  that  far  other 
Thomas,  was  one  who,  when  neglected  and  spurned,  flew  to  the 
bosom  of  the  "  Almighty  Patron ! "  But  he,  the  writer,  is  made 
of  more  enduring  stuff :  he  can  struggle  through  life,  and  calmly  die. 
"  No  thoughts  of  death,  in  defiance  and  rebellion  to  my  Omnipotent 
Creator,  shall  ever  enter  my  head !  "  It  is  quite  staggering  how 
religious  Tom  can  be — on  paper.  He  continues :  "  How  can  I 
improve  my  taste,  or  embellish  my  natural  parts  in  Killeagh,  a  sor- 
did village  with  no  one  of  any  literary  intelligence  or  even  common- 
sense,  that  I  know  of,  resident  in  it?"  Here  he  suddenly  recalls 
the  Rector :  "  but  Mr.  Boyd  is  only  one,  and  not  very  talkative." 
This  is  a  rather  human  touch.  Tom  next  unfolds  his  desire  to  get 
Lady  Moira,  as  dedicatee,  to  lend  her  name  to  the  title-page  of  his 
forthcoming  book  of  verse;  he  also  suggests  the  advisability  of 
proceeding  at  once  to  London,  where,  duly  introduced  and  enthu- 
siastically welcomed,  he  means  to  found  a  weekly  periodical  to  be 
called  The  Inquisitor.  The  new  prospect  does  not  seem  to  have 
fired  his  venerable  correspondent.  About  this  time  his  clerical 
friend  Mr.  Berwick  turned  from  his  busy  biographies  of  dead 
Greeks  and  Romans,  to  communicate  with  Tom,  and  tell  him  how 
sorry  he  is  to  hear  that  he  has  not  yet  entered  college,  and  how  he 
fears  that  he  never  will  do  so.  He  affectionately  warns  him  to  take 
good  care  of  his  health,  and  assures  him  that  he  may  count  on 
"  all  our  attention,"  and  that  nothing  can  make  that  forfeit  but 
"  a  previous  forfeiture  of  character." 

If  it  can  be  believed,  the  rusticated  young  poet  pursued  more 
and  more  violently  his  course  of  actual  hectoring  of  the  lady  upon 
whom  his  security  depended.  The  day  came  when  he  intimated  his 
desire  to  free  himself  altogether  from  her  guardianship.  Lady 
Moira  was  therefore  driven  to  write  a  letter  in  the  third  person, 
commenting  sadly  on  "  that  ill-founded  degree  of  self-conceit  Der- 

VOL.  xcvii.— 3. 


34 


THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 


mody  indulges  himself  in,  respecting  his  genius,  [which]  will  pre- 
vent his  ever  having  friends,  or  arriving  at  success,  unless  he  alters 
his  conduct  and  his  sentiments."  The  letter  enclosed  a  note  for 
ten  guineas.  "  As  Dermody  has  thought  proper  to  withdraw  from 
her  direction  and  protection  in  a  manner  equally  ungracious  and 
absurd,  this  is  the  last  attention  he  is  to  expect  from  Lady  Moira 
or  any  of  her  family/'  Thus,  by  an  act  of  unparalleled  folly,  as 
even  his  indulgent  biographer  calls  it,  the  lad's  scene  was  cleared 
again,  as  if  by  a  general  slaughter,  and  the  limelight  falls  upon  his 
solitary  and  perverse  figure,  attitudinizing  in  the  middle  of  an 
emptied  stage! 

Tom  hastened  back  to  Dublin,  spent  freely,  and  exhausted  his 
purse.  Reduced,  after  his  fashion,  to  hunger  and  rags,  he  looked 
up  Mr.  Whyte,  his  benignant  ex-neighbor  of  Grafton  Street,  with 
whom  he  had  not  been  of  late  in  touch:  looked  him  up  with  a 
view  to  procuring  a  theatrical  engagement  under  Richard 
Brinsley  Sheridan,  then  the  patentee  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre. 
Mr.  Whyte  dissuaded  Tom,  and  Tom  was  huffed.  Fail- 
ing to  realize  his  latest  scheme,  he  turned  paragraphs,  as  before,  for 
a  Dublin  newspaper,  and  that  expedient  again  falling  short,  took 
up  begging  as  a  regular  profession!  sometimes  walking  thirty- 
two  Irish  miles  in  a  day,  and  wearing  out  his  shoes  and  his  feet. 
Mr.  Whyte  tracked  him  to  his  flock  pallet,  and  fed  him;  Mr. 
Owenson,  with  infinite  goodness,  rallied  again  to  his  cause,  and  by 
hard,  dogged,  and  fruitful  exertion  (he  was  greatly  respected  in 
the  town)  actually  got  Tom's  second  volume  of  poems  published 
and  circulated.  More:  he  extended  his  credit  at  all  the  shops 
to  his  prodigal,  as  of  old.  Mr.  Boyd  also  wrote  fondly  to  "  dear 
Tom,"  urging  him  to  matriculate  at  Trinity  College,  and  bespeak- 
ing for  him,  through  Lord  Donoughmore,  the  Provost's  very  special 
interest. 

Dear  Tom  could  dispense  with  such  advice,  as  he  had  by  now 
acquired  in  full  perfection  his  best-beloved  art:  that  of  writing 
begging  letters.  He  pointed  at  high  game :  such  as  Bishop  Percy 
of  the  Reliques;  the  great  Mr.  Grattan;  Joseph  Cooper  Walker, 
the  author  of  An  Historical  Memoir  on  Italian  Tragedy,  and  of 
much  else  worth  reading;  and  the  Rt.  Hon.  Monck  Mason.  In  these 
precious  documents,  the  scribe  neatly  alludes  to  himself  as  the 
Child  of  the  Muse  and  of  Misfortune;  lies  about  his  age;  almost 
invariably  mentions  Chatterton  as  his  twin  in  sorrow ;  and  expresses 
his  poetic  willingness  to  exchange  the  thorns  of  misery  for  the 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  35 

olives  of  quiet,  through  the  agency  of  that  potential  deliverer 
whom  he  is  at  the  moment  addressing.  Grattan,  never  at  fault 
where  something  chivalrous  was  called  for,  quoted  Dermody  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  brought  him  to  the  notice  of  his  own  dis- 
tinguished colleague,  Henry  Flood.  Once  more  funds  and  invita- 
tions poured  into  Tom's  unfathomable  lap.  Once  more  he  wand- 
ered off  to  alehouses  while  his  elegant  friends  were  expecting  him 
to  dinner,  sent  no  excuses,  and  never  called  on  them  again! 

His  encounter  with  Mr.  Edward  Tighe  was  ludicrous,  and 
proves  how  excessively  juvenile  was  Dermody 's  appearance  in  his 
seventeenth  year.  He  had  brought  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr. 
Tighe's  house,  but  the  owner  had  gone  out.  Shortly  afterwards, 
Tom  guessed  at,  and  began  to  accost  his  gentleman  (a  very  choleric 
gentleman,  with  a  supply  of  wrath  like  Landor's!)  in  a  bookshop, 
and  was  promptly  told  to  go  about  his  business.  But  when  Mr. 
Tighe  reached  his  own  door,  the  ragged  lad,  anxious  to  prove  the 
truth  of  his  story,  was  close  behind  him.  Mr.  Tighe  turned  and 
raised  his  stick,  the  door  was  opened  by  the  man-servant,  and  the 
follower  fled  away.  On  reading  the  letter  left  for  him,  a  moment 
later,  Mr.  Tighe  repented  of  his  rashness,  and  dispatched  the  porter 
after  the  poet,  who  was  by  this  time  far  down  the  street.  Tom, 
looking  over  his  shoulder,  and  seeing  a  man  in  hot  pursuit,  with 
heated  eye  upon  himself,  and  evidently  bent  on  giving  him  the 
bastinado  for  his  impudence,  took  to  his  heels  in  earnest,  and 
was  run  down  only  after  a  terrific  chase !  Mr.  Tighe  and  himself, 
on  acquaintance,  managed  to  enrage  each  other  at  once.  But  the 
love-quarrel  ended  in  five  guineas  for  Tom,  and  a  remarkable 
grown-up  suit  of  snuff-colored  small-clothes,  with  coat-skirts,  and 
a  cocked  hat,  both  infinitely  too  large  for  him :  which  solemn  and 
sufficient  habit  he  was  requested,  nay,  commanded,  to  wear  without 
alteration.  Mr.  Tighe  rode  two  darling  hobbies:  one  was  the 
abolition  of  spirituous  liquors,  and  the  other  the  rearing  by  the 
State  of  orphan  children  who  were  to  become  the  parents  of  an 
uncontaminated  race.  On  these  two  godly  and  rocky  subjects,  as 
also  upon  the  Lakes  of  Killarney,  Tom  was  vainly  urged  to  exercise 
his  epic  pen. 

Meanwhile,  Nicholas  Dermody  awoke  from  an  unbroken  and 
protracted  silence,  and  posted  to  his  son  a  letter,  which,  for  its 
triumphant  avoidance  of  all  real  points  at  issue,  beats  Mrs.  Nickleby. 
In  it,  "my  dear  Child"  appears  as  "unprotected  Youth  far  from  sin- 
cere counsel,"  who  is  to  guard  against  "  the  wiles  of  the  Designing 


36  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

and  the  profuse  promises  of  the  Exalted,"  and  look  on  College,  in 
the  most  modern  utilitarian  spirit,  as  "  a  good  way  for  future 
Bread."  How  could  he  have  deserved  such  cruelty  at  Mr.  Austin's  ? 
How  it  will  raise  him  in  the  opinion  of  County  Clare  that  the 
famous  Mr.  Grattan  is  among  his  subscribers!  Lastly,  may  the 
Lord  protect  the  Child  from  the  jaundice-eyed  Malice  of  all  his 
enemies !  In  this  Hebraic  outburst  there  is  one  phrase  which  seems 
to  ring  true.  Tom  had  written  that  he  hoped  to  revisit  Ennis. 
"  Five  years,  which  have  been  five  thousand  to  me,"  says  Nicholas, 
"  have  now  nearly  elapsed  since  you  left  me."  (It  was  really 
nearly  seven  years.  What  an  unchronological  family!)  But  so 
far  as  one  can  make  out,  the  two,  alike  in  their  mental  conceit  and 
their  moral  futility,  never  met  again. 

Tom,  on  the  slippery  off-slope  of  Mr.  Tighe's  favor,  bethought 
him  anew  of  Rev.  Mr.  Berwick,  chaplain  at  Moira  House.  An  im- 
pending marriage  in  the  Berwick  family  had  been  announced  in  the 
Dublin  journals,  and  on  the  strength  of  it,  Tom  committed  an 
epithalamium.  On  addressing  it  to  those  most  interested,  he  did  not 
fail  to  drop  a  sizable  hint,  also  in  verse,  that  a  restoration  of  Lady 
Moira's  patronage  would  not  be  unwelcomed.  Letters  of  the  in- 
visible fish-hook  order  were  cast  simultaneously  at  another  old 
friend,  Mr.  Whyte,  and  at  a  new  one,  Mr.  James  Grant  Raymond, 
afterwards  Dermody 's  observing  but  placating  biographer.  About 
this  time  appeared  a  poem  of  light-heeled  optimism,  beginning: 

How  vile  to  me  this  guilty  Globe  appears! 

Vile,  verily:  for  as  the  poem  goes  on  to  remind  us,  it  was  rude 
to  Otway,  to  Dry  den,  to  Savage,  and  (inevitable  item!)  to 

Sweet   Chatterton,   by   felons   spurned. 

Lastly,  as  the  culminating  reproach,  you  are  to  understand  that  a 
certain  nameless  person, 

In  dauntless  infancy  a  finish'd  Bard, 

is  being  wasted  upon  contemporary  Europe.  However,  this  same 
person  makes  up  his  mind  to  appeal,  ere  he  perishes,  to  Lady  Moira, 
acting  against  her  express  prohibition.  With  great  magnanimity, 
she  tells  her  bookseller  to  print  at  her  expense  whatever  Mr. 
Dermody  may  send  him.  Mr.  Dermody,  unsatisfied,  informs  her 
that  he  is  in  extreme  distress,  but  "still  laboring  to  perfect  his 
studies  for  college  examination  (!),  assured  that  his  permanent 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  37 

happiness  can  arise  from  that  quarter  alone."  As  he  gets  no 
answer,  he  writes  again,  and  yet  again.  The  last  echo  of  the 
correspondence  is  instructive,  and  has  a  quite  ineffable  dignity. 
He  "  cannot  but  wonder  at  receiving  half  a  crown  from  that  hand 
which  has  bestowed  so  many  guineas !  "  He  is  distressed  at  Lady 
Moira's  uneasiness,  "  more  than  at  Dermody's  disappointment." 
Suddenly  comes  a  brand  new  inspiration.  The  bookseller  at  his 
service  receives  and  prints  a  pamphlet,  entitled  The  Rights  of  Jus- 
tice, or,  Rational  Liberty,  and  a  poem,  The  Reform.  In  these 
that  "  narrow  self-ended  soul "  steps  forth  for  one  brief  amazing 
moment  as  a  glorifier  of  France,  and  a  home  revolutionary. 

Shall  the  sons  of  Erin  droop, 
Slaves,  slaves  alone,  amid  the  unfetter'd  World? 

and  all  that :  a  torrent  of  it !  It  is  sad,  indeed,  when  young  hearts 
of  the  purest  idealism  were  beginning  to  beat  for  Ireland's  freedom, 
that  any  poet  of  hers  should  utter  what  he  never  felt,  and  abandon 
instantly  what  he  had  uttered.  This  game  of  nationalism  for  a 
purpose  failed.  Letters  spent  upon  new  patrons  in  high  places  came 
back  unopened.  Tom  was  sunk  to  the  very  lowest  depths  of 
physical  misery  consistent  with  life,  when  the  Attorney-General, 
Kilwarden,  later  Lord  Chief  Justice,  (a  man  dearly  loved  up  to, 
and  long  after,  his  tragic  death),  found  him  out,  and  visited  the 
attic  where  he  lay.  Despite  the  fact  that  Tom's  clothing  fluttered 
from  his  body,  as  he  moved,  like  pennons  from  the  mast,  he  was 
immediately  carried  off  to  dine.  That  old  winning  diffidence  and 
modesty  of  his,  every  bit  of  it  pure  sham,  charmed  Lord  Kilwarden 
as  it  had  charmed  many  another  humane  gentleman,  oh!  in  what 
an  endless  single  file! 

But  wine,  long  foregone  from  necessity,  worked  on  the 
bardic  brain,  and  the  guest  had  to  be  sent  home,  dreamy  and  dumb, 
in  a  carriage,  with  a  filled  purse  in  his  pocket.  Of  all  Dermody's 
illustrious  backers,  there  was  hardly  one  so  loyal,  so  persistent,  as 
Lord  Kilwarden.  His  major  move  was  to  engage  rooms  for  Tom 
in  the  much-talked-of  college,  promising  to  furnish  them,  to  defray 
the  whole  of  his  expenses  there,  and  to  allow  him  £30  a  year  for 
pocket  money.  Enough  was  never  as  good  as  a  feast  to  our  young 
gentleman.  He  does  not  quite  say  so,  but  £30  strikes  him  as  an 
impossible  pittance.  He  sings  at  large  to  Lord  Kilwarden  of 
his  "  embarrassments,"  and  his  "  unavoidable  distresses,"  and  his 
"  strange  fatalities;"  he  cannot  "  study  amid  misfortune;"  he  thanks 


38  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

his  benefactor,  but  is  "  forced  to  forego  the  generous  offer,  so 
honorable  to  me,  and  so  worthy  of  yourself,"  at  least  until  "  the 
obstructions  to  my  happiness  are  removed !  "  And  back  went  "  the 
Muses'  boy  "  (as  he  chose  to  call  himself  at  the  time)  from  the 
hilltop  of  final  opportunity  into  the  cesspools  of  his  foolishness. 
He  was  over  seventeen.  The  real  Chatterton,  unfriended,  was 
at  that  age  in  his  pauper's  grave. 

Needless  to  add,  Tom  plied  his  pen  during  the  next  two  years  in 
begging  from  men  of  note,  and  he  won  patron  after  patron,  slipping 
in  turn  from  between  their  caressing  fingers.  But  his  annals  can  be 
summarized.  He  wandered  to  every  door;  he  aroused  villages  with 
mystery  and  window  smashings,  or  lay  sunk  in  long  stupors  by  the 
wayside;  he  produced  a  hideous  poem  on  his  own  country,  where 
he  had  received  a  kindness  almost  incredible,  a  consideration  far 
too  high;  and  he  enriched  his  variegated  career  by  enlisting  as  a 
recruit  in  the  army  of  His  Majesty  King  George  the  Third.  A  ser- 
geant of  nineteen,  he  set  sail  for  England.  He  saw  service  in  France, 
Holland,  and  Germany,  and,  strange  to  say,  behaved  decently  except 
for  frequent  drunks;  moreover,  he  was  several  times  wounded. 
His  happy  star,  or  his  own  plots,  had  given  him  for  superior  officer 
the  Earl  of  Moira,  the  son  of  his  lost  Egeria,  who  had  won  his 
soldier's  laurels  in  the  American  war.  The  Earl,  after  Dermody 
had  been  discharged  on  half-pay,  helped  him  to  settle  in  London, 
and  forgave  him,  and  furthered  him  to  seventy  times  seven,  until 
his  entirely  angelic  hopefulness  slowly  gave  out,  thereby  causing 
Dermody,  as  one  is  relieved  to  hear,  "  excessive  pain."  Never- 
theless, though  Lord  Moira  had  to  withdraw  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance, he  continued  sending  money!  The  ex-sergeant  sank  into  a 
Westminster  slum,  where  he  concocted  an  Ode  to  Frenzy  full  of 
personalities,  and  posted  it  to  Mr.  Raymond  in  Dublin.  The  latter 
rushed  enthusiastically  across  the  Irish  Sea,  took  coach  to  the 
metropolis,  and  ran  into  a  pallid  threadbare  fellow  in  St.  James' 
Park  who  proved  to  be  the  bard.  "  Once  more,  O  ye  Muses !  yet 
once  more,"  all  went  merrily  as  a  marriage  bell. 


IV. 

After  his  thrilling  rescue  by  Mr.  Raymond,  Dermody  had  "  a 
tremendous  fit  of  poetizing."  His  topics,  for  almost  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  were  objective  and  large  in  scope,  thanks  to  the  sights  he 
had  seen  a-soldiering.  Mr.  C.  Allingham,  member  of  an  interesting 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  39 

English  family  long  settled  in  Ireland,  found  a  willing  firm  of  pub- 
lishers, and  poured  into  their,  ears  the  praises  of  the  young  author. 
Actuated  by  that  hearsay  alone,  the  firm  paid  down  a  liberal  sum 
in  advance  for  the  book.  They  appear  not  to  have  brought  it  out. 
The  manuscripts  bore  a  dedication  to  the  Rt.  Hon.  the  Dowager 
Countess  of  Moira :  so  much  reward  attended  Dermody's  obstinate 
courtship  of  the  great!  The  free-stepping  sonnet  on  the  fly-leaf 
beautifully  exemplifies  the  definition  that  gratitude  is  a  lively  sense 
of  future  favors: 

Deem'st  thou  ingrate  or  dead  the  shepherd  boy 

Erewhile  who  sung  thee  to  the  listening  plain? 
Still  pausing  on  thy  deeds  with  pensive  joy, 

Ingratitude  nor  death  has  hush'd  the  strain. 
Still  drest  in  all  her  captivating  hues 

Smiling  in  tears,  will  languishingly  steal 
O'er  my  fantastic  dream  the  well-lov'd  Muse, 

Like  Morn  dim-blushing  through  its  dewy  veil. 
Her  wildflowers,  bound  into  a  simple  wreath 

Meekly  she  proffers  to  thy  partial  sight: 
Oh,  softly  on  their  tender  foliage  breathe! 

Oh,  save  them  from  the  critic's  cruel  blight ! 
Nurse  the  unfolding  blooms  with  care  benign, 
And  'mid  them  weave  one  laurel  leaf  of  thine. 

In  The  Pursuit  of  Patronage  we  have  Marlowe,  Spenser,  Dry- 
den,  and  Butler,  together  with  numerous  others,  in  the  exhibition 
window,  and,  needless  to  say,  we  get  Chatterton  again,  and  plenty 
of  him,  inclusive  of  a  slap  at  "  the  listless  peer,"  Lord  Orford 
(Horace  Walpole)  who  himself  had  been  most  kind  to  Dermody 
on  more  than  one  occasion.  Mr.  Raymond  thinks  it  a  fine  trait 
in  Dermody  that  the  latter  never  courted  patronage  until  he  was 
in  desperate  straits,  and  deems  it  creditable  that  he  had  no  arts  to 
keep  it !  The  faith  of  these  Dermodians  is  a  sight  to  see. 

Mr.  Allingham  painted  the  admired  one's  interesting  gypsyish 
portrait,  and  introduced  his  sitter  to  one  Mr.  Johnson,  a  bookish 
ex-military  personage  of  influence  and  originality.  Feeling  quite 
unable  to  put  up  with  his  new  protege's  persistent  choice  of  ill 
lodgings  and  soiled  clothing,  at  a  time  when  "  the  world  was  so 
full  of  a  number  of  things,"  Mr.  Johnson  on  one  occasion  beguiled 
Dermody  to  his  own  rooms.  They  were  near  Sadler's  Wells,  on 
the  banks  of  that  New  River  pleasantly  familiar  to  lovers  of  Elia 
and  of  George  Dyer.  There,  under  much  verbal  compulsion,  John- 


40  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

son  the  disciplinarian  got  Mr.  Thomas  Dermody  to  pass  through 
the  terrors  of  the  cold  tub,  next  to  be  shaved  and  barbered,  and 
finally  folded  and  buttoned  and  buckled  into  the  numerous  elegant 
habiliments  of  a  Georgian  dandy.  The  discarded  costume  was 
with  small  ceremony  pitched  out  of  window!  and  lay  in  a  heap 
beside  the  stream  while  the  two  friends,  high  above,  sat  down  to- 
gether in  all  gentility  to  a  toothsome  repast.  Later,  moonlight 
drew  them  to  the  casement,  and  they  perceived  several  figures  wan- 
dering up  and  down  the  riverside,  evidently  in  a  distressed  state 
of  mind.  Presently,  torches  were  stuck  in  the  ground  at  even 
distances,  and  boatmen  appeared  with  a  drag-net  and  grappling 
irons.  Long  and  earnest  was  the  search  in  the  deeps  for  that 
corpse  which  had  thus  left  its  mortal  sheathings  conspicuous  on  the 
brink.  Night  wore  on;  the  business  increased.  In  the  hubbub 
of  the  gathering  crowd,  many  gave  testimony.  By  one,  the  late 
unfortunate  had  been  seen  to  wander  up  and  down;  by  another, 
to  plunge;  by  a  third,  to  float;  by  a  fourth,  to  sink  to  the  bottom; 
by  a  fifth,  to  have  been  fished  up,  dripping,  and  dead.  The  sym- 
pathetic populace  dispersed  only  in  the  small  hours,  bathed  in 
apprehensive  tears.  Dermody  and  the  ex-officer,  who  watched  the 
farce  from  their  sill,  thought  it  well  never  to  interrupt  it.  Admire 
a  dramatic  detachment  possible  to  the  Celt  alone ! 

Despite  Mr.  Johnson  and  his  salutary  comradeship,  Tom  re- 
lapsed into  lowest  Bohemia.  One  must  not  be  unjust  to  him :  this 
time  it  was  partly  owing  to  disappointment  caused  by  the  depriva- 
tion, without  cause,  of  his  regimental  pay.  While  he  was  under  the 
passing  cloud,  he  was  inspired  to  write  to  Sir  James  Bland  Burges, 
Bart,  (who  afterwards  changed  his  name  to  Lamb),  describing  him- 
self as  a  youth  "  indigent  and  unpatronized,"  but  dear  to  the 
Muses.  Sir  James  was  likewise,  it  seems,  a  poet,  and  had  paid  a 
tribute  in  metre  to  Richard  Lionheart.  Our  cunning  scribe  alludes 
to  the  circumstance,  and  salutes  his  unknown  correspondent  as 

That  soaring  spirit  which  disdains  to  creep 
Round  the  smooth  base  of  the  Parnassian  steep, 
But  hurried  with  the  whirlwind's  force  along, 
Grasps  the  rough  summit  of  sublimest  Song! 

The  blushing  baronet  must  have  grasped  the  rung  of  his 
chair  as  he  read.  One  can  almost  hear  the  comment :  "  Whew ! 
How  well  said !"  wrung  from  him.  The  unerring  marksman  had 
bagged  his  bird:  Sir  James  turned  out  to  be  a  most  believing 


1913-]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  41 

and  relieving  creature.  A  discussion  over  a  draft  for  ten  pounds, 
lost,  and  repaid  checkered  the  first  days  of  the  acquaintance;  another 
draft  of  like  magnitude  served  to  clothe  the  unclothable  in  the 
resumed  hues  of  the  fashionable  world.  But  within  a  week  of 
that  metamorphosis,  the  convert,  very  ragged,  very  muddy,  very 
drunk,  escaped  from  a  "  spunging-house "  to  Sir  James'  library 
door,  with  one  of  his  best  poems,  the  Extravaganza,  fresh-laid,  in 
his  pocket.  Reproof  was  administered;  debts  were  paid.  The 
episode  was  only  a  prelude  to  a  lively  duet,  of  a  fiscal  nature, 
between  the  two.  Mildly  but  firmly  the  poet  solicited  more  money, 
and  ended  by  drawing  on  his  patron's  bank  for  an  alehouse  score. 
The  baronet  very  properly  resented  such  usage,  and,  uttering  tem- 
pered maledictions,  dropped  communication  with  his  fellow-minstrel. 
The  latter,  however,  was  not  daunted;  not  he!  He  brought  up 
the  heavy  guns  of  prose,  and  bombarded  the  closed  citadel  of  income 
with  his  "  not  uninteresting  applications :"  ten  of  these  did  Der- 
mody  fire  off  during  the  spring  and  early  summer  of  1801.  They 
are  masterpieces  of  their  kind;  the  temptation  to  quote  from  them 
is  acute.  But  one  bonne  bouche  will  do.  Mr.  Dermody  laments 
that  the  age  which  leaves  him  bobbing  up  and  down  precariously 
in  the  trough  of  time,  had  already  shown  signs  of  taking  to 
"  the  vulgar  puerilites  of  Wordsworth." 

One  might  digress  here  to  say  that  Sir  James  should  be  an 
interesting  figure  to  posterity,  as  the  undoubted  original  of  "  young 
Jamie  "  in  Auld  Robin  Gray.  As  a  youth  he  fell  in  love  with  a 
lovely  girl,  Lady  Margaret  Lindsay.  Opposition  arose;  the  sweet- 
hearts were  parted,  he  being  sent  abroad,  and  she  forced  to  marry 
the  banker  Alexander  Fordyce.  The  poem  about  them,  dear  to 
many  hearts,  was  written  by  Margaret  Lindsay's  sister,  Lady  Anne 
Barnard.  The  romance  had  a  happy  but  curious  sequel  some  forty 
years  later,  when  the  widowed  Lady  Margaret  Fordyce  became 
Sir  James  Bland  Burges'  third  wife!  Sir  James  had  a  lively  and 
honorable  career  as  Member  of  Parliament  for  Helston,  and  in  the 
Foreign  Office;  but  letters  were  dearer  to  him  than  statecraft,  and 
in  his  later  years,  when  Tom  Dermody  profited  by  him,  he  was 
all  for  books  and  the  Muses. 

It  was  not  Thomas'  habit  to  have  but  one  iron  in  the  fire.  All 
along,  as  counter  plot  to  the  bounty  of  Sir  James,  he  had  been 
gathering  in  private  subsidies  from  the  Literary  Fund,  the  trustees 
of  which  were  wont 

To  bless  the  hapless  bard,  unseen  by  vulgar  eyes. 


42  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

This,  according  to  their  charter,  was  what  they  were  bound  to  do; 
it  was  also  exactly  what  the  hapless  bard  in  question  had  instructed 
them  to  do.  Had  they  only  existed  a  while  before,  he  artfully 
tells  them,  Collins,  aye,  and  Chatterton,  would  have  escaped  their 
disastrous  fates.  Not  fewer,  but  more  frequent  donations  thence- 
forward rained  upon  his  path.  One  of  the  cultivated  and  benevo- 
lent group  who  came  forward  to  finance  Dermody  even  burst  into 
poetry  on  the  occasion.  It  begins: 

Like  Chatterton,  a  gifted  youth, 

and  goes  on  and  on.  Poor  Chatterton !  Flank  attacks  were  being 
made  by  "  the  Muses'  Child,"  meanwhile,  upon  Henry  Addington, 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  Hilary  Addington,  his  brother, 
two  Right  Honorables  of  wonderfully  wise  practical  kindness. 
Messrs.  Allingham  and  Raymond  continued  unintermittently  de- 
voted. 

The  gutter  gentry  with  whom  Dermody  chose  to  lodge  had 
by  this  time,  as  was  natural,  scented  some  advantage  to  themselves, 
and  turned  extortionists  without  further  ado ;  his  fine  new  garments, 
deciduous  as  forest  leaves,  hung  continuously  under  the  eaves  of  the 
pawnbrokers.  Then  he  fell  ill  of  asthma,  and  got  his  first  scare, 
and  bethought  him  to  purge  and  live  cleanly,  but,  of  course,  with- 
out reference  to  such  a  trifle  as  his  soul's  salvation.  In  an  un- 
wonted fit  of  industry,  he  wrote  in  the  course  of  one  day  a  satire 
in  two  cantos  on  a  subject  made  to  his  hand  in  the  altercation  be- 
tween Peter  Pindar  and  Giffard  of  the  Bairad;  also  a  really  ex- 
cellent essay  on  Browne  and  other  poets  little  prized  by  that  genera- 
tion. It  was  one  of  Dermody's  illusions  to  think  of  himself  as 
like  Spenser  in  his  day,  Chatterton  in  his,  and  William  Morris  in 
ours,  a  native  of  a  past  age,  wearing  "  the  coronals  of  that  for- 
gotten time :"  whereas,  of  course,  Dermody's  mind  is  parti-colored, 
and  has  no  one  recognizable  ancestry.  At  his  best  as  at  his  worst, 
he  bears  everywhere  the  hall  mark  of  the  eighteenth  century.  He 
had  sense  enough,  however,  to  appreciate  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth: a  merit  he  shares  with  hardly  anyone  else  of  that  day, 
save  the  busy  pioneer,  Sir  Egerton  Brydges,  whom,  indeed,  Der- 
mody anticipated. 

Time  wore  on.  Mr.  Addington  in  1801  got  Dermody's  post- 
poned book  of  poems  published  by  Hatchard,  and  Hatchard  swal- 
lowed the  profits.  The  author  was  not  unnaturally  much  dis- 
tressed: he  was  capable  of  a  great  depth  of  feeling  on  such  truly 


1913.]  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  43 

afflicting  occasions.  To  add  to  his  wretchedness,  he  had  become 
consumptive.  Ill  as  he  was,  he  managed  to  dictate  to  Mr.  Raymond 
his  last  applications  for  help  to  two  former  friends  whom  he  had 
justly  offended,  Sir  James  Burges  and  the  Earl  of  Moira:  both 
men  responded  liberally,  and  the  Hon.  Baron  Smith  sent  not  only 
a  check,  but  a  long,  affectionate  message.  Early  in  July,  1802, 
after  some  months  of  alternate  suffering  and  convalescence,  during 
which  he  fell  into  a  prolonged  dejection,  and  was  importuned  for 
many  old  debts,  Dermody  fled  from  a  lane  near  Gray's  Inn  to  a 
cottage  on  the  outskirts  of  Sydenham.  It  was  a  ruinous  hovel, 
exposed  to  wind  and  weather  in  an  unusually  stormy  season. 
There,  racked  with  coughing,  alone,  without  food  or  care,  he  was 
at  last  found  by  Mr.  Allingham  and  Mr.  Raymond,  and  their  faith- 
ful friendship  quickly  did  all  that  it  could.  They  procured  a  nurse, 
and  hired  a  lodging  on  Sydenham  Common,  whither  Dermody  was 
to  be  moved  the  next  morning.  But  he  died  during  the  night.  He 
was  twenty-seven  years  old.  They  buried  him — all  those  patient 
people  who  had  so  unselfishly  tended  what  Sir  James  Burges  calls 
his  "  transcendent  genius  " — in  Lewisham  Churchyard.  His  grave 
was  chosen  in  what  was  considered  a  peculiarly  romantic  nook. 
It  is  not  romantic  now.  They  had  one  of  his  own  self -caressing 
poems  graven  upon  Dermody's  tomb:  and  there  it  is  yet,  on  a 
monument  twice  renewed  by  public  subscription. 

The  biographer,  Grant  Raymond,  whose  indulgence  goes  to 
all  lengths  in  all  directions,  yet  remarks  that  "  had  Dermody's 
ambition  kept  pace  with  the  encouragement  he  received,  had  he 
studied  and  pursued  moral,  with  the  same  ardor  as  poetical  pro- 
priety, posterity  with  delight  would  have  recorded  his  name."  No  : 
the  upshot  is  not  even  matter  for  guesswork.  The  flaw  is  funda- 
mental. Dermody  had  it  in  him  to  become  a  really  perceiving  and 
independent  critic,  had  he  also  had  it  in  him  to  do  one  stroke  of 
work.  But  his  kind  of  poetry — has  it  not  had  its  day?  Its 
striking  perfection  of  manner,  a  perfection  as  of  very  best  whale- 
bone or  crinoline,  will  not  save  it.  It  has  no  space,  no  infinity; 
no  visions,  such  as  belong  by  right  to  the  Gael ;  no  love,  neither  for 
beings  human,  sub-human,  or  super-human.  The  Elizabethan 
roisterers,  Marlowe,  Nash,  Greene,  had  a  sense  of  unf  olio  wed  ideals, 
and  the  sincere  torments  born  of  it;  the  like  had  Villon,  Rochester, 
Burns,  Poe,  Verlaine.  Not  a  splinter  of  aspiration,  so  far  as  man 
can  judge,  ever  pricked  Dermody's  "  brass-hard  guts  "  of  pride. 
Can  poets  be  made  of  hogs?  We  trow  not. 


44  THE  MOCK  CHATTERTON  [April, 

In  Dermody's  scribbling  youth  the  old  long-blessed  patronal 
system  had  its  field  day.  That  system,  with  its  abuses  and  indig- 
nities (which  gave  a  transient  wound  and  a  lasting  armor  to 
Samuel  Johnson),  came  practically  to  an  end  with  the  dawn  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  however,  both 
poor  men,  were  saved  from  want  and  worry,  throughout  their 
productive  period,  by  patrons.  But  never  was  there  such  an  aided 
and  abetted  career  as  Dermody's.  One-twentieth  part  of  the  heap- 
ed-up  abundance  of  the  means  of  liberty  which  we  so  grudge 
to  his  diffused  intelligence  and  concentrated  worthlessness,  would 
have  saved  the  glory  of  Bristol,  who  in  personal  relationships  had 
honor  and  a  heart.  That  the  case  of  material  succor  lies  as  it  does 
between  the  mock  Chatterton  and  the  real  one,  is  the  most  bitter 
irony  in  the  history  of  English  letters.  Dermody  must  have  been 
born  for  something  better  than  to  amuse  us.  Let  us  say  it  was 
his  office  radically  and  expressly  to  show  forth  in  long  detail  two 
impressive  facts :  one,  the  touching  ubiquity  of  human  charity ;  the 
other,  the  readiness  of  this  silly  world  to  take  a  man  at  his  own 
value.  No  outstanding  use,  beyond  this,  has  the  "  transcendent 
genius  "  who  now 

With  sparkless  ashes  loads  an  unlamented  urn. 

Surely,  his  wages  have  been  excessive.  His  posthumous  cult 
has  produced  a  biography,  and  a  sepulchre  erected  and  re-erected, 
inscribed  and  re-inscribed,  at  the  public  cost.  Modern  Lewisham, 
now  part  of  London  S.  E.,  is  perhaps  yet  grateful  that  to  her  it  is 
given  to  guard  some  very  unheroic  Irish  Protestant  dust.  When 
Dermody's  poetical  works  were  gathered  together  in  1807,  the 
editor,  Mr.  Raymond,  gave  them  for  general  title:  The  Harp  of 
Erin.  It  was  a  sad  misnomer.  The  Harp  of  Erin  is  eminently 
not  Thomas  Dermody's  instrument,  either  in  fact,  or  by  intention. 
Ireland  has  no  need  of  him;  England  can  do  without  him.  Mr. 
Churton  Collins  has  only  wasted  time  in  twining  bays  for  that 
cheap  precocious  brow. 


CANON  FOR  THE  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD 
(AUGUST  15). 

St.  John  Damascene:  Died  Circa  A.  D.  780. 

Taken  from  an  Anthologia  Grceca  Carminum  Christianorum,  edited 
by  W.  Christ  and  M.  Paranikas.  (Teubner,  Leipzig, 
MDCCCLXXL,  pp.  229-232.) 

Done  into  English  verse  by  G.  R.  Woodward,  M.A.,  sometime 
Scholar  of  Gonville  and  Caius  College,  Cambridge. 


NOTE. — Dr.  John  Mason  Neale,  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  accomplished  of 
the  translators  of  the  sacred  verse  of  the  Orthodox  Communion,  in  his  Hymns 
of  the  Eastern  Church  (1863,  second  edition),  gives  some  account  of  the  poetical 
Canons  which  are  used  in  the  Office  for  Lauds,  and  explains  the  omission  of  a 
Second  Ode  in  the  present  version  of  the  Canon  on  our  Lady's  Assumption.  In  a 
passage  which  is  here  somewhat  shortened,  Dr.  Neale  says  that  a  Canon  consists 
of  nine  Odes,  each  one  of  which  contains  any  number  of  Troparia,  or  Stanzas, 
from  three  to  beyond  twenty.  The  reason  for  the  number  nine  is  this:  that 
there  are  nine  Scriptural  Canticles  employed  at  Lauds,  on  the  model  of  which 
the  Odes  in  every  Canon  are  formed.  The  first  is  that  of  Moses,  after  the  passage 
of  the  Red  Sea;  the  second  is  that  in  which  Moses  blessed  the  Children  of  Israel 
before  his  death;  and  third  and  following  ones  are  those  of  Hannah,  of  Habakkuk, 
of  Isaiah,  of  Jonah,  of  the  Three  Children,  of  the  Benedicite,  and,  lastly,  of  the 
Magnificat  and  Benedictus.  From  this  arrangement,  Dr.  Neale  adds:  it  follows 
that,  as  the  Second  Canticle  is  never  recited  except  in  Lent,  the  Canons  never 
have  any  Second  Ode.  Dr.  Neale's  valuable  estimate  of  the  composition  and  con- 
tents of  the  Odes,  as  well  as  of  their  style  and  manner,  is  too  long  to  be  quoted. 
But  one  sentence,  in  regard  to  the  author's  history,  whom  he  considers  to  be 
the  greatest  of  the  poets  of  the  Eastern  Church,  may  perhaps  be  permitted.  It  is 
surprising,  he  tells  us,  how  little  is  known  of  the  life  of  St.  John  Damascene : 
that  he  was  born  of  a  good  family  in  Damascus ;  that  he  made  great  progress  in 
philosophy ;  that  he  administered  some  charge  under  the  Caliph ;  that  he  retired 
to  the  monastery  of  St.  Sabas  in  Palestine;  that  he  was  the  most  learned  and 
eloquent  with  whom  the  Iconoclasts  had  to  contend;  that  at  a  comparatively  late 
period  of  life  he  was  ordained  a  Priest  of  the  Church  of  Jerusalem;  and  that  he 
died  after  A.  D.  754,  and  before  A.  D.  787 — these  facts  seem  to  comprise  all  that 
has  reached  us  of  his  biography. 

To  this  it  may  be  added,  that  the  Canon  of  St.  John  Damascene  is  an  early 
and  valuable  tribute  in  verse,  from  the  Greek  Office  Books,  of  the  position  held  by 
our  Blessed  Lady  in  the  divine  scheme  of  the  Christian  Revelation ;  that  the  present 
version  was  generously  made  by  the  translator  on  behalf  of  the  Third  Series  of 
Carmina  Mariana,  which  is  now  in  course  of  compilation;  that  the  translation  was 
made  upwards  of  seven  years  ago,  and  was  made  again  at  the  close  of  last  year; 
and  that  a  preliminary  and  wider  introduction  to  American  Catholics  has  been 
accorded  to  the  Odes,  before  their  addition  to  the  Anthology,  by  the  courtesy 
of  the  Editor  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD.— O.  S. 


46  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD  [April, 


ODE  I. 

I  WILL  ope  this  mouth  of  mine, 
To  be  fraught  with  breath  divine, 
Anthem  loud  that  I  may  raise 
To  the  Royal  Mother's  praise, 
Whom,  and  that  in  glorious  wise, 
Openly  I  eulogize, 
And  the  wonders  of  the  same 
Readily  herewith  proclaim. 

Virgin  damsels,  more  and  less, 
With  the  Songster-prophetess, 
Miriam,  exalt  with  us 
Greater  Mary's  Exodus; 
For  the  Maiden,  whom  alone 
Mother  unto  God  we  own, 
Meriteth  to  journey  o'er 
Jordan  to  the  heavenly  shore. 

Sooth,  'twas  very  meet  that  thou, 
Seen  as  "  Heaven  on  earth  "  till  now, 
Shouldest  be,  most  holy  Maid, 
Into  heavenly  courts  convey'd; 
That  thou  shouldest,  on  this  day, 
Glorious  and  in  bright  array, 
Take  thy  stand,  a  spotless  Bride, 
By  thy  God  and  Sovran's  side. 

[This  Canon  has  no  Second  Ode.] 

ODE  III. 

Goddes  Mother,  Fountain  rife 
With  abundant  streams  of  life, 
Stablish  us  who  hymn  thy  worth, 
In  concent  of  holy  mirth  ; 
Think  on  us ;  and,  more  than  this, 
Win  us  crowns  of  heavenly  bliss. 

Born  of  mortal  womb,  fair  Maid, 
Debt  to  Nature  thou  hast  paid, 
Hast  accomplish'd  thy  decease, 
And  hast  pass'd,  by  glad  release 


1913.]  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD  47 

(Not  till  thou  hadst  given  birth 
To  the  Life  of  all  the  earth) 
To  that  Life  which  is  divine, 
Real,  true,  and  hath  no  fine. 

From  the  North,  South,  East,  and  West, 
Sped  the  Twelve  Apostles,  prest : 
Thither  drew  there,  from  on  high, 
Flocks  of  winged  Angels,  nigh; 
Urged  by  God's  Almighty  will, 
Bound  were  all  for  Syon's  hill; 
Lady,  straining  every  nerve, 
At  thy  grave-side  thee  to  serve. 


ODE  IV. 

This  unfathomed  godly  plan 
Of  the  Word  in  Flesh  of  Man, 
Offspring  of  a  Virgin-womb, 
Was  foreseen  by  Ambakoum,* 
When  he  cried  in  olden  days, 
"  Mighty  Lord,  be  thine  the  praise." 

'Twas  a  wonder-sight  to  see 
Soaring  over  lake  and  lea 
Her  that  was  the  lively  Shrine, 
Palace  of  the  King-Divine. 
Marvellous  are  thy  works  and  ways ; 
Mighty  Lord,  be  thine  the  praise. 

Mother  of  thy  God,  to-day 
Upward  as  thou  went'st  away, 
Angel-hosts,  in  joy  and  dread, 
Snow-white  wings  around  thee  spread, 
O'er  that  body,  which  could  fold 
Him,  whom  heaven  can  no-way  hold. 

If  the  Infinite,  her  Child, 
(Whereby  "  Heaven  "  she  is  styled), 
If  the  Fruit  of  Mary's  womb 
Fain  endured  a  mortal  tomb, 
Why  should  be  the  Mother  spared 
Sepulture,  whereof  He  shared? 

**.  e.,  Habakkuk,  or  Habacuc. 


48  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD  [April, 


ODE  V. 

All  Creation  with  amaze 
Eyed  thy  glorious  heavenly  rays ; 
When,  unwedded  Maiden  clear, 
Thou  didst  quit  this  earthly  sphere 
For  abodes,  that  last  for  ever, 
And  the  life  that  endeth  never, 
Granting  life  with  ceaseless  days 
To  the  hymners  of  thy  praise. 

Let  th'  Apostles  wake  the  morn 
With  the  winding  of  the  horn; 
Let  the  anthem  now  be  sung 
By  the  men  of  many  a  tongue; 
With  unbounded  light  ablaze 
Let  the  welkin  ring  her  praise, 
While  the  Angels,  all  of  them, 
Chaunt  our  Lady's  Requiem. 

In  thy  praises,  Maiden  blest, 
One  by  far  out- ran  the  rest : 
'Twas  that  "  chosen  vessel/'  Paul, 
Wrapt  in  ecstasy  withal, 
One  that  had  himself  been  caught 
Into  bliss  exceeding  thought, 
'Fore  his  fellows,  truth  to  own, 
Consecrate  to  God  alone. 
He  to-day,  beyond  all  other, 
Magnified  thee,  Goddes  Mother. 


ODE  VI. 

Come,  good  Christens,  West  and  East, 
Keep  to-day  a  solemn  feast; 
Clap  the  hand,  with  one  accord, 
For  the  Mother  of  our  Lord, 
Praising  God,  who  did  indeed 
From  her  blissful  womb  proceed. 

From  thee  sprung  the  Life-Divine, 
Nor  unbarr'd  thy  Virgin-shrine: 
How,  then,  did  that  stainless  Tent 
Which  to  Life  once  shelter  lent, 


1913-]  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD 

Share  the  death,  that  doth  befall 
Eva's  sons  and  daughters  all? 

Life's  own  Temple  heretofore, 
Life  thou  gainest  evermore: 
Through  the  gate  of  death  thou  hast 
Unto  Life  eternal  past — 
Thou  who  erst  didst  clothe  and  wind 
Life  itself  in  human  kind. 


ODE  VII. 

Sooner  far  than  disobey 
Their  Creator's  law,  and  pay 
Worship  to  the  Image,  see 
How  the  Holy  Children  Three 
Trod  the  fire,  and  play'd  the  man 
Gladly,  while  their  anthem  ran; 
"  Thou,  our  fathers'  God  and  Lord, 
Alway  art  to  be  adored." 

Come,  young  men,  with  maiden-kind, 
Bear  this  Maiden  well  in  mind, 
Goddes  Mother,  mild  and  meek. 
Come,  old  men,  and  rulers  eke, 
With  the  judges  of  the  earth : 
Come,  ye  kings,  make  solemn  mirth : 
"  Thou,  our  fathers'  God  and  Lord, 
Alway  art  to  be  adored." 

With  the  Spirit's  trump  around 
Let  the  heavenly  heights  resound ; 
Let  the  mountains  merry  be, 
And  th'  Apostles  leap  for  glee. 
Mary's  feast  it  is  to-day : 
Raise  we  then  the  mystick  lay. 

Lord,  thy  Mother's  pure  decease, 
Her  departure  in  thy  peace, 
Gath'red  beatifick  legions 
From  aloft  to  earthly  regions, 
To  rejoice  with  men  who  cry, 
"  God,  thou  art  extoll'd  on  high." 
VOL.  xcvn.— 4. 


50  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD  [April, 

ODE  VIII. 

Holy  Childer  Three  were  freed 
In  mid-fire  by  Mary's  Seed: 
There  the  shadow,   dimly  shown, 
By  the  substance  here  is  known ; 
And  it  setteth  all  and  some 
Carolling  through  Christendome : 
"  All  thy  works,  above,  below, 
Bless  thee,  Lord,  for  evermo." 

Maiden  clean,  thy  fame  is  sung 

By  Angelick  trumpet-tongue : 

Theme  of  Archangelick  zones, 

Virtues,  Princedoms,  Powers,  and  Thrones, 

Dominations,  Cherubim, 

Yea,  of  awe-full  Seraphim: 

And  with  these  we  men  below 

Magnify  thee  evermo. 

Maiden,  in  unheard-of  way, 
God  in  thy  clear  cloister  lay, 
Borrowing  pure  flesh  and  breath, 
Born  as  mortal,  prone  to  death; 
Wherefore,  Mother,  we  below 
Magnify  thee  evermo. 

Oh,  the  wonder  passing  thought 
Of  that  humble  Maid  that  brought, 
From  her  ever-Virgin  shrine, 
Unto  birth  the  Son  Divine: 
See,  her  grave  is,  in  our  eyes, 
Turned  into  Paradise; 
Whereby  standing,  we,  to-day, 
Full  of  joyaunce,  sing  and  say, 
"  All  thy  works,  above,  below, 
Bless  thee,  Lord,  for  evermo." 


ODE  IX. 

Let  us,   every  child   of   clay, 
In  the  Spirit  leap  to-day, 
Holding  each  his  lighted  lamp : 
Next,  let  yon  supernal  camp 


1913-]  REPOSE  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOD  51 

Of  unbodied  beings  bright 
Celebrate  this  heavenly  flight, 
By  a  path,  as  yet  untrod 
By  the  Bearer  of  our  God; 
Hailing  Mary,  blest  o'er  other, 
Holy,  ever- Virgin  Mother. 

Come,  on  Syon's  Olive-hill, 
Of  the  living  God  the  Rill, 
Make  we  joy;  as  in  a  glass, 
Viewing  what  is  come  to  pass. 
Christ,  to  far  more  worthy  station, 
And  more  sacred  habitation 
Doth  convoy  his  Mother  lowly 
To  the  Holiest  of  the  Holy. 

Come,  ye  faithful,  haste  away 
To  the  tomb  where  Mary  lay: 
It  salute  we,  e'er  we  part, 
With  true  homage  of  the  heart, 
Of  the  forehead,  lip,  and  eye, 
Drawing  thence  full  free  supply 
Of  the  healing  balms,  that  mount 
From  this  everlasting  Fount. 

Take  of  us,  thou  blest  Abode 

Of  the  Living  God,  this  Ode 

On  thine  Exodus  from  hence ; 

And,  of  thy  beneficence, 

By  the  bright  and  heavenly  grace 

Streaming  from  thy  blissful  face, 

Neath  the  shadow  of  thy  wing, 

Give  the  victory  to  the  King ; 

To  good  Christen  people,  peace; 

To  thy  Quiristers,  release 

From  their  sins,  that  they  may  thrive, 

Yea,  and  save  their  souls  alive. 


THE  POETRY  AND  PROSE   OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON. 

BY  ELBRIDGE   COLBY. 
II. 

HE  prose  writings  of  Lionel  Johnson  consist  of  an 
early  volume  on  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy  (1894), 
and  a  large  number  of  reviews  and  critical  papers 
written  for  the  London  literary  columns  between  the 
years  1891-1901,  which  have  been  but  recently  edited 
by  Mr.  Thomas  Whittemore  (1911),  and  published  under  the  Latin 
title  Post  Liminium,  alluding  to  "  the  right  of  a  man,  after  a 
lapse  of  time,  to  enter  again  into  his  own,  over  his  former  thres- 
hold."* From  the  time  when  he  came  up  to  London  with  an 
Oxford  degree,  prepared,  as  many  other  literary  men  before  him, 
to  win  fame  and  fortune  with  his  pen,  until  the  beginning  of  "  the 
long  spell  of  enforced  idleness,"  as  he  termed  it,  which  ended  with 
his  death — during  these  ten  years  he  wrote  articles  for  The  Daily 
Chronicle,  The  Anti- Jacobin,  The  Spectator,  The  Academy,  The 
Speaker,  The  Outlook,  The  Fortnightly  Review,  and  the  West- 
minster  Gazette.  In  his  Clifford's  Inn  chambers,  Lionel  Johnson 
lived  and  worked,  quietly,  unostentatiously,  persistently.  When 
he  was  not  penning  in  his  small,  fine  hand  sheet  after  sheet  of 
pertinent  criticism,  he  was  making  and  confirming  friendships, 
for  he  always  loved  a  friend,  and  there  was  in  his  heart  a  sincere 
man-to-man  worship  for  his  fellows,  so  well  expressed  in  the  lines 
to  A  Friend. 

In  the  preface  to  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy,  he  said,  "  It 
amply  contents  me  to  dream,  that  some  gentle  scholar  of  an  hundred 
years  hence,  turning  over  the  worn  volumes  upon  bookstalls  yet 
unmade,  may  give  his  pence  for  my  book,  may  read  it  at  his  leisure 
and  may  feel  kindly  toward  me."  By  Lionel  Johnson  each  of  his 
acquaintances  was  received  as  though  the  newcomer  were  perhaps 
a  present  personification  of  that  "  gentle  scholar  of  an  hundred 
years  hence."  He  always  had  a  certain  scholarly  attitude,  and 
loved  to  discuss  with  his  friends  the  various  aspects  of  literature 

^Preface  to  Post  Liminium,  page   xi. 


1913.]       POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      53 

and  of  life  in  which  he  was  interested.     Mr.  Victor  Plarr,  who 
roomed  near  him,  has  given  us  the  following  picture : 

It  was  wonderful  to  be  present  when  he  built  up  a  scene  out 
of  the  past.  He  would  slip  about,  a  slim,  active  figure  with 
dark  expressive  eyes,  and  pale  intellectual  face,  playing  a 
kind  of  tune  among  bells,  the  bells  being  books,  which  he  drew 
from  shelves  high  and  low,  till  they  littered  tables  and  chairs 
on  every  side.  But  the  books,  annotated,  conned,  inscribed 
with  favorite  excerpts,  were  so  many  voices  in  his  support. 
Never  did  he  take  one  down  but  it  was  to  show  you  some 
beautiful  passage,  some  illuminating  description,  generally  un- 
familiar to  his  breathless  interlocutor,  but  always  appropriate 
in  the  discussion.  One  can  imagine  Sir  Walter  Scott  excelling 
long  ago  in  similar  bouts. 

Well  could  we  wish  to  have  been  among  those  who  "  sat  in 
his  beautiful  rooms,  so  symbolic  of  his  mind,  among  the  choice 
carefully-collected  drawings  and  prints,  the  literary  mementos, 
and  the  countless  shelves  crammed  with  rare  volumes,  with  large 
paper  editions — hundreds  of  well-conned,  well-loved  books — lis- 
tening to  his  delightful  flow  of  cordial  talk,  and  noting  the  deep 
glow  of  his  poet's  dark  eyes  as  he  read  or  recited  verse  in  his  tense 
inimitable  way."* 

A  perusal  of  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy  leads  us  to  the  opinion 
that  the  idea  stated  by  Mr.  Plarr  can  be  reversed,  that  Lionel 
Johnson  may  be  said  to  have  addressed  his  literary  audience — the 
gentle  scholar  of  an  hundred  years  hence  if  you  will — with  the  same 
tone,  in  the  same  fashion,  and  through  the  same  materials  as  he 
addressed  his  personal  friends  at  Clifford's  Inn.  He  seems  to  have 
subscribed  to  the  Wordworthian  theory  preached  by  Matthew 
Arnold, 

There  is 

One  great  society  alone  on  earth, 
The  noble  Living  and  the  noble  Dead.f 

In  the  opening  paragraph  of  The  'Art  of  Thomas  Hardy,  and 
on  pages  71  and  72,  he  has  declared  that  there  is  no  distinction 
of  time,  "  the  great  books  and  utterances  tell  all  one  story  under 
diverse  forms,"  we  can  pass  from  epoch  to  epoch  "  with  no  sensible 
discomfort  or  surprise  of  complete  change,"  and  "  the  good  of  all 

*The  Poetry  Review,  June,   1912.  tPrelude  n:  393. 


54      POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON       [April, 

ages  and  of  all  kinds  are  more  like  each  other  than  they  are  like 
their  bad  contemporaries."  On  this  basis  Lionel  Johnson  dis- 
cussed each  writer  under  consideration  as  a  postulant  who  was 
seeking  admission  into  the  "  one  great  society,"  and  examined  his 
qualifications  by  a  touchstone  comparison,  by  reference  to  the  high- 
est of  high  ideals,  and  by  deep  and  scholarly  study  of  technique  and 
style.  Indeed,  in  this  first  critical  book  he  falls  somewhat  into 
the  usual  error  of  erudite  young  men  who  have  but  recently  been 
idlers  among  academic  bowers.  He  thinks  of  the  subject  matter 
of  which  he  is  talking,  in  terms  of  the  rigid  conventions  of  the 
ideal-intellectual  society  which  he  has  constructed  for  his  purpose, 
and  not  in  terms  of  the  reactions  which  the  subject  matter  produces 
within  himself.  Constructive  criticism  may  be  academic  or  per- 
sonal; and  it  seems  that  that  of  Lionel  Johnson  is  academic.  He 
does  not  study  the  psychological  effects  of  the  novels  of  Thomas 
Hardy  upon  himself.  He  compares  them  with  "  the  fair  human- 
ities," with  "  the  best  that  has  been  thought  and  said  in  the  world." 
As  Mr.  Victor  Plarr  has  told  us  that  "  books  were  so  many 
voices  in  his  support "  in  the  Clifford's  Inn  discussions,  so  in  the 
written  discussions  on  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy  Lionel  Johnson 
calls  many  quotations  to  speak  in  his  support.  Where  he  does  not 
actually  quote,  he  often  mentions  writer  after  writer  in  what  might 
seem  either  feigned  or  unnecessary  erudition  of  manner.  It  would 
be  unwise  to  accuse  him  of  a  feigned  erudition :  he  was  an  extra- 
ordinarily widely  and  deeply  read  man;  he  came  to  his  task  rich 
with  the  intellectual  legacy  of  past  years.  As  for  the  unnecessary 
phase  of  this  scintillating  eruditeness,  a  quotation  and  a  short 
demonstration  will  best  explain.  Lionel  Johnson  is  speaking  of  his 
favorite  period,  the  eighteenth  century,  as  follows : 

Experience,  verified  facts,  the  ascertained  contents  of  life, 
the  clear  principles  and  powers  of  human  nature:  these  were 
the  plain  arguments  and  matters  for  the  consideration  of  reason- 
able men.  The  roll  of  moralists,  or  of  metaphysicians,  illustrates 
this  reliance  of  thought  upon  common  sense  in  very  various 
ways:  there  were  the  elegant  Shaftesbury,  with  his  character- 
istic of  Men,  Manners,  Opinions,  Times;  Mandeville,  with  his 
Private  Vices,  Public  Benefits;  the  rhetorical  commonplaces, 
uttered  in  no  commonplace  rhetoric,  of  St.  John;  the  mixed 
depravity  and  charm  of  Chesterfield;  Johnson's  golden  mean 
of  wisdom ;  the  composed  and  Attic  reasonings  of  Berkeley ;  the 
Gallicized  Scotch  skeptic,  Hume;  the  moral  father  of  political 


1913-]       POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      55 

economy,  Smith;  Butler,  the  champion  of  probability;  Burke, 
the  Hooker  of  statesmen,  upon  whom  at  last  fell  the  moral 
horror  of  the  French  Revolution  in  all  its  lawlessness.  Here 
is  no  lack  of  variety;  here  are  prelates  and  professors,  states- 
men and  politicians,  lights  of  the  court  and  oracles  of  the  coffee 
house :  but  in  all  we  note  a  desire  to  be  sensible  and  reasonable ; 
to  present,  each  his  own  views  of  truth,  as  the  plain,  sane  state- 
ment of  facts;  demanding,  doubtless,  care  and  labor  from  the 
student  of  truth;  yet  not  exceeding  the  grasp  of  any  honest 
and  educated  man. 


Then,  when  we  consider  that  this  is  merely  a  "  critical  pre- 
liminary," we  wonder  what  does  all  this  have  to  do  with  The  Art 
of  Thomas  Hardy?  He  deals  with  the  whole  history  of  the  novel, 
with  the  truth  that  lies  in  artistic  expression,  with  the  ideal  of  obe- 
dience to  fine  traditions  and  the  worth  of  the  humanists,  with  the 
various  elements  mixed  into  the  literary  crucible  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  excellently  with  the  characteristics  of  the  modern 
novel  as  compared  with  its  predecessors — all  by  the  way.  We 
read  two  pages  on  the  awakening  of  the  romantic  spirit — two 
splendid  pages,  in  which  with  singular  felicity  our  author  has  hit 
off  the  traits  of  a  small  battalion  of  writers  and  relegated  each  to 
an  appropriate  niche — we  read  these  two,  and  other,  pages  and 
begin  to  wonder  if  to  give  nearly  the  whole  history  of  English 
literature  is  not  over-stepping  even  the  license  which  Lionel  Johnson 
takes  of  approaching  Thomas  Hardy  "  in  a  leisurely  way."  In 
fact,  so  much  irrelevant  or  slightly  relevant  material  is  included  and 
detailed  at  length,  that  the  temptation  is  very  strong  to  turn  against 
our  poet-critic  a  quotation  which  he  himself  was  very  fond  of  using, 
"  A  very  pretty  book,  Mr.  Pope,  but  you  must  not  call  it  Homer." 

This  has  been  a  question  of  rambling  and  diverse  subject 
matter  strung  on  a  single  slender  thread.  There  is  the  more  serious 
matter  of  style.  It  really  becomes  almost  tiresome  to  read  through 
an  excellent  criticism  of  Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles,  and  to  find  that, 
from  the  Goethe  statement  about  Faustus,  "  How  largely  it  is  all 
planned,"  to  the  quotation  from  Bishop  Blougram,  it  is  not  the  work 
of  Lionel  Johnson  but  the  combined  work  of  Lucretius,  Lovelace, 
Burke,  the  Doge  of  Genoa,  Emerson,  Renan,  Alciphron,  Shakes- 
peare, ^Eschylus,  Browning,  Plato,  George  Herbert,  Pope  Leo  XIII., 
Abelard,  Cotter  Morison,  Hume,  Moliere,  Mansel,  Hartmann,  Dr. 
Johnson,  Prior,  Ezechiel,  Chaucer,  Boethius,  Samuel  Butler,  Cud- 


56      POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      [April, 

worth,  Pascal,  Newman,  Christina  Rossetti,  and  Carlyle — all  in 
twenty-five  pages.  It  may  be  well  to  have  "  so  many  voices  in  his 
support,"  but  it  seems  that  this  is  a  little  too  labored.  Yet,  these 
one  or  two  instances  of  stylistic  transgression  mentioned  are  the 
exception  rather  than  the  rule.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases 
the  citations  are  exceptionally  appropriate  and  excellently  illuminat- 
ing. The  conclusion  to  which  we  must  come,  with  reference  to 
this  fault,  is  that  the  book  was  written  by  a  rather  young  man  of 
distinct  genius  who  had  accumulated  more  than  the  ordinary  quota 
of  knowledge;  had  gathered  facts  without  giving  his  mind  time  to 
mature;  had  not  yet  come  to  a  realization  of  his  own  immense  in- 
nate power  of  thought.  It  is  a  youthful  effort,  marked  with  all 
the  reliance  on  the  opinions  of  others,  usually  found  in  one  who 
is  yet  an  earnest  searcher  after  truth. 

Lionel  Johnson  has  been  termed  a  disciple  of  Walter  Pater; 
and  their  relationship  is  nowhere  more  evident  than  in  the  subtleties, 
in  the  richness,  in  the  variety  of  his  style;  in  the  carefulness  of 
balance  and  the  solemnity  of  movement.  A  short  quotation  will 
illustrate  the  evident  care  taken  in  the  construction: 

I  confess  that  the  tragic  novels  contain  purely  idyllic  passages ; 
that  the  idyllic  pair  are  not  without  their  unhappy  or  satiric 
touches ;  that  the  remaining  books,  among  their  engaging  medley, 
exhibit  simple  tragedies  and  simple  idylls.  But  the  dominant 
tone  and  nature  of  the  fifteen  volumes  warrant  their  careful 
reader  in  making  this  triple  division:  a  touch  of  innocent 
joy  does  but  deepen  the  prevailing  tragedy;  a  stroke  of  grim 
ragedy  does  but  add  fresh  zest  to  the  sad  laughter  of  the 
satirist;  a  ripple  of  mockery,  a  breath  from  gloomier  places, 
best  serve  to  embrace  the  charm  of  idyllic  scenes. 

Lionel  Johnson  is  more  varied,  more  brilliant,  more  rapid 
than  his  Oxford  master  "  who  gave  of  his  welcome  and  of  his 
praise."  Walter  Pater  seems  to  present  the  "  delicate  dawning  of 
a  new  desire ;"  while  Lionel  Johnson  was  more  positive  in  his  con- 
victions. When  we  think  of  the  influence  of  one  man  upon  another, 
we  must  preface  our  reflections  with  the  axiomatic  assumption  that 
as  time  goes  on  the  pupil  will  develop  his  own  individuality;  he 
will  show  less  and  less  trace  of  the  master's  guidance,  and  that 
the  earlier  work  is  the  place  where  we  must  look  for  the  delicate 
traceries,  for  the  vague  hints,  for  the  unconscious  emulation  and 
fleeting  similarity  in  attitude  and  manner  which  may  be  taken 


IQI3-]       POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      57 

as  fast  fading  indications  of  the  instructor's  personality.  In  the 
light  of  this,  we  had  best  remember  that  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy 
was  an  early  volume,  and  that  in  it,  if  anywhere,  we  must  look  for 
the  marks  of  his  education,  and  for  the  characteristics  derived  from 
him  whom  he  called  a  "  classic  saint." 

Usually,  as  Poe  has  remarked  and  demonstrated,  a  piece 
of  literature,  be  it  poem  or  novel,  creates  in  the  mind  of  the  reader 
a  certain  impression.  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,  for  instance, 
represents  an  "  all-pervading  sense  of  insufferable  gloom."  Lionel 
Johnson,  with  true  and  keen  insight,  has  typified  the  effect  of  the 
Hardy  novels  as  that  of  a  landscape,  a  landscape  of  open  country, 
rolling  hills,  a  few  relics  of  the  cruder  fiercer  civilization  of  other 
years,  and  a  solitary  laboring  man  watching  on  the  moors  at  night- 
fall. Only  to  one  who  has  read  and  appreciated  Thomas  Hardy, 
is  it  given  to  know  how  extra-ordinarily  profound,  and  yet  how 
marvelously  simple,  is  this  piece  of  enlightenment.  It  is  the  trans- 
lation of  a  broad  and  complex  impression  into  a  single  definite  mood 
— the  mood  of  Thomas  Hardy.  In  other  places,  Lionel  Johnson 
may  be  academic,  but  it  cannot  be  charged  against  him  that  this 
interpretation  is  bookish — it  is  introspective  and  humanitarian  to 
the  last  degree. 

But,  to  lay  aside  the  mere  incidentals  of  an  academic  or  an 
unacademic  manner  of  procedure,  the  allusive  tendencies  of  his 
phraseology,  and  the  appropriateness  or  the  inappropriateness  of 
any  particular  passage  or  citation,  to  lay  them  aside  for  a  mo- 
ment and  briefly  to  summarize,  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy  is  the 
effort  of  a  young  man  who  had  not  yet  served  his  critical  appren- 
ticeship in  the  smaller  and  less  pretentious  things  which  should 
ripen  his  powers  for  the  larger  tasks  of  the  future.  In  matter, 
he  still  depended,  possibly  too  much,  on  the  opinions  of  those  who 
had  gone  before;  in  manner,  he  still  depended,  possibly  too  much, 
on  the  instructions  of  his  teacher  Walter  Pater.  Yet,  with  Lionel 
Johnson,  in  substance  and  in  style,  it  was  reverence  and  emu- 
lation, not  dependence  and  imitation.  Although  he  used  quota- 
tions profusely,  he  was  far  more  than  a  mere  compiler  of  the  ideas 
and  opinions  of  others;  he  wrote  with  restraint  and  dignity,  with 
acute  insight  and  apt  illustration,  and  his  work  deserves  no  mean 
position  among  the  critical  writings  of  this  and  other  ages. 

We  all  have  to  go  through  the  process  of  becoming  educated, 
and  until  the  richness  of  real  maturity  comes  of  its  own  accord, 
we  must  fall  somewhat  short  in  true  constructive  criticism,  and 


58      POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON       [April, 

merely  handle  our  material  as  best  we  can  with  our  yet  unordered 
feeling  for  perspective  and  our  yet  unordered  capacity  for  reflec- 
tion. The  result  is  that  a  young  critic  is  either  inordinately  sus- 
ceptible or  is  inordinately  severe.  The  book  on  The  Art  of  Thomas 
Hardy  represents  a  stage  in  the  critical  education  of  a  mind  of 
genius  well-trained  in  academic  conventions.  Post  Liminium  gives 
us  glimpses  of  the  various  stages  in  this  education  from  the  first 
beginnings  to  the  end. 

A  perusal  of  the  critical  pieces  in  Post  Liminium  and  such  of 
the  periodical  contributions  not  therein  included  as  are  accessible 
on  this  side  of  the  water,  a  perusal  of  these  year  by  year,  shows 
a  fine  strengthening  of  powers  without  loss  of  the  high  idealism, 
the  gradual  development  of  an  individual  taste  free  from  bare 
traditional  dictates,  the  slow  acquisition  of  an  incomparable  finesse 
in  apperception,  appreciation  and  expression,  and  the  blossoming 
of  a  broad  humanitarian  sympathy  which  comes  only  with  the 
confidence  and  the  discretion  of  age.  As  we  note  the  rare  ripening 
of  genius  with  the  passing  of  the  years,  and  that  which  is  more 
than  genius,  as  we  think  of  what  the  future  might  have  held  in 
store,  there  steals  hauntingly  into  our  memories  the  old,  old  saying, 
"  Whom  the  gods  love,  die  young  " — true,  all  too  true  in  the  case 
of  Lionel  Johnson.  To  restrict  ourselves  in  our  investigation  to 
his  opinions  on  somewhat  kindred  topics,  there  is  a  very  real  and 
a  very  evident  difference  between  the  early  paper  on  Newman  and 
the  later  one  on  Savonarola.  The  former  has  the  fault  of  the 
mere  piling  up  of  names  and  the  weakness  of  depending  on  quota- 
tion; the  latter  has  an  inherent  strength  and  an  intrinsic  worth 
of  its  own.  Witness  the  intensity,  the  power,  the  grandeur  of  the 
following : 

An  age  of  luxurious  corruption,  renascent  paganism,  hideous 
crime  and  moral  laxity;  Christian  upon  the  surface,  indifferent 
or  superstitious  within;  resplendent  with  gorgeous  vanities  and 
cunning  inventions  and  exquisite  arts — such  to  Savonarola 
seemed  the  enemy  assigned  to  the  sword  of  his  word.  "  Thun- 
ders of  thought  and  flames  of  fierce  desire  "  surged  through 
his  soul;  after  a  time,  and  for  a  time,  he  triumphed.  Sacred 
oratory,  able  to  inspire  Michelangelo  at  work  upon  the  Sistine 
Chapel,  thrilled  Florence,  and  threw  multitudes  prostrate  at  his 
feet;  he  found  himself  ruling  where  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  had 

ruled His  earlier  preaching  was  full  of  fiery  apocalyptic 

warning,  of  vehement  appeals  to  Church  and  State,  of  sternest 


1913-]       POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      59 

denunciation  and  pathetic  entreaty;  but  from  that  he  passed 
to  a  perilous  conviction  of  his  prophetic  insight  into  the 
immediate  politics  of  the  day,  his  divinely-given  right  to  inspire 
and  direct  the  policy  of  Florence,  to  defy  authority  in  the  name 
of  higher  authority. 

Writing  in  1893  of  Walter  Pater,  we  see  him  penning  words 
in  the  style  of  his  master,  long,  involved  sentences,  evenly-balanced 
clauses,  and  studied  alternations  of  periodic  and  loose  constructions. 
Then,  if  we  turn  over  a  few  pages  and  look  at  the  paper  on  Vergil, 
written  in  1900,  the  distinction  is  obvious.  The  idea  of  balance 
remains;  but  the  whole  impression  is  so  much  less  mechanistic — 
there  is  less  of  the  unnecessary  punctuation  of  early  days — there 
seems  a  live  interest  stronger  than  that  of  the  cold  technician : 

For  in  the  melancholy  majesty  of  his  mighty  line  we  com- 
mune with  the  "  white  soul "  which,  at  the  height  of  Rome's 
magnificence,  was  not  of  that  age,  but  of  all  ages,  by  virtue  of 
an  intense  humanity.  If  he  did  not,  in  man's  service,  control 
the  powers  of  nature,  none  has  more  profoundly  expressed 
and  praised  them,  the  august  workings  amid  which  man  lives. 
If  he  did  not  with  high  authority  go  about  doing  good  to  men, 
none  has  more  fully  and  perfectly  given  a  voice  to  the  infinite 
longing  of  their  souls,  nor  spoken  with  a  tenderer  austerity. 

As  there  was  in  the  end  but  one  inspiration  to  the  poetry  of 
Lionel  Johnson,  there  was  one  moulding  motive  behind  his  prose 
criticism.  He  seems  to  have  had  always  in  mind  that  "  one  great 
society  alone  on  earth,"  in  the  light  of  which  he  had  considered 
The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy.  And,  naturally,  to  him  the  Catholic 
heritage  was  the  present  manifestation  of  the  quondam  spiritual 
dignity  of  classicism.  In  poetry  he  could  be  tense  with  present 
faith;  in  prose  he  must  be  restrained  in  harmony  with  ancient 
dignity. 

It  is  interesting  to  look  over  the  papers  in  the  volume  entitled 
Post  Liminium,  with  a  view  to  constructing  a  synthesis  of  his  opin- 
ions on  ancient  civilization  and  culture,  on  Ireland  and  on  the 
Catholic  Church.  A  paper  on  Friends  That  Fail  Not  tells  of  his 
love  for  companionable  books,  for  the  quaint  old-fashioned  writings 
of  the  past,  and  especially  for  the  classics.  With  respect  to  the 
last,  we  may  recall  the  lines  in  the  poem  to  Walter  Pater,  which  says 
that  "  deep  within  the  liturgies  lie  hid  the  mysteries."  He  thought 
that  we  should  look  on  the  wisdom  of  old  with  a  reverence  that 


60      POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      [April, 

should  be  a  religion,  and  that  with  the  lamps  of  our  intelligence 
we  should  strive  to  penetrate  the  dimness.  He  loved  Ireland,  and 
lauds  the  various  Irish  politicians  for  their  devotion  to  their  ideals. 
Clarence  Mangan  he  praises  as  a  brilliant  Irishman,  who  from  de- 
jection, defeat,  and  deception  "  rose  and  rang  the  very  glory 
and  rapture  of  Irish  song  to  his  dark  Rosaleen."  Then,  for  him- 
self, in  a  paper  on  Poetry  and  Patriotism  in  Ireland,  he  shows  his 
own  deep  reverence  for  the  true  idealism:  not  particularly  as  ex- 
pressed in  the  practical,  political,  propagandist  poetry,  but  rather 
in  poetry  written  in  the  Irish  spirit  in  any  form,  so  long  as  it  is 
good  and  fine  in  itself.  He  would  "  welcome  all  who  write  for  the 
love  of  Ireland,  even  if  they  write  in  fashions  less  familiar,"  and 
let  the  subject  be  what  it  will,  so  long  as  the  spirit  is  brave  and 
optimistic. 

Humble  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi,  austere  Dante,  lovable  Thomas 
a  Kempis — these  have  come  in  for  their  full  share  of  eulogy  from 
the  man  who  was  a  strong  believer  in  their  Faith.  Lionel  Johnson 
loved  English  literature  because  of  its  mysticism,  because  of  its 
strangeness  and  propensity,  because  of  the  dimly  discernible  under- 
lying subtleties  in  its  movements.  He  wrote  on  The  Soul  of  Sacred 
Poetry }  and  wrote  well,  unconsciously  characterizing  his  own  poetry 
very  nicely  when  he  said,  "  Sacred  poets  must  feel  towards  the 
contents  of  their  creed  as  lovers  towards  the  separate  and  single 
beauties  of  their  mistress :  a  personal  devotion  to  each  gracious 
detail,  with  a  comprehension  of  their  place  and  office  in  the  gra- 
cious whole.  There  must  be  a  reverent  familiarity,  no  less  than  an 
awed  veiling  of  the  eyes."  The  genius  that  was  not  sufficiently 
developed  to  write  a  book  about  Thomas  Hardy,  was  fully  capable 
of  making  one  of  the  finest  judgments  that  have  ever  been  made 
of  the  whole  inspiration  of  sacred  poetry.  And,  of  course,  there 
was  an  excellent  reason  for  his  insight  on  this  subject,  for  Lionel 
Johnson  himself  must  be  ranked  as  one  of  the  foremost  of  all  those 
sacred  men  who  have  poured  out  their  fervid  souls  in  poetry.  The 
gorgeous  glorious  ecstasy  of  Te  Martyrum  Candidatus  is  as  won- 
derful as  the  intensity  of  The  Dream  of  Gerontius — and  the  stirring 
chants  of  the  choir  angelical.  It  is  "  more  than  imagination ;  it  is 
nothing  less  than  vision."  Lionel  Johnson  said — and  proved  it 
himself — that  it  is  necessary  to  believe  before  writing  sacred  poetry. 

The  little  snap-shots  of  life  and  letters*  which  have  been 

*  Short  essays  and  criticisms,  included  in  "  With  Our  Readers,"  on  St.  Vincent 
de  Paul,  on  Two  Early  English  Mystics,  on  The  Ambitious  Church,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


1913-]       POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      61 

reprinted  in  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD — would  that  they  could  be 
collected  and  published  in  even  more  permanent  form — seem  to 
merit  separate  consideration.  There  are  many  on  this  side  of  the 
water  who  know  Lionel  Johnson  chiefly,  if  not  solely,  in  the  delight- 
ful attitude  therein  revealed.  Whether  he  deals  with  matters  of 
literature  or  of  religion,  he  is  ever  inspiring  and  instructive.  He 
always  has  a  high  ideal  to  which  he  would  have  humanity  attain; 
he  always  sees  the  better  side  of  life,  even  when  correcting  faults; 
he  always  holds  lofty  and  noble  hopes  for  the  future.  Just  to 
mention  a  few :  his  gentle  contempt  for  the  fin  de  siecle  "  flowery 
Paganism  such  as  no  Pagan  ever  had:"  his  appreciation  of  Irish 
Poets  Writing  English  Verse,  whose  poetry  "  will  not  pass  away 
till  the  passing  away  of  Ireland,"  and  his  keen  insight  into  the  mind 
of  Gibbon  are  in  his  best  literary  mood;  he  is  most  intensely  and 
ideally  enthusiastic  when  he  writes  of  "  the  sacred  purple  of  Rome," 
of  old-time  visionaries  and  mediaeval  dreamers,  and  of  the  ambitious 
Church  and  Catholic  duty;  and  with  modern  subjects  he  can  do 
as  well,  hitting  off  with  remarkable  felicity  of  phrase  splendid 
Fenelon,  kindly  Cardinal  Manning,  and  the  noble  Reverend  William 
Lockhart,  or  poking  fun  at  Alfred  Austin's  first  discovery  of  Ire- 
land, and  at  the  Laureate's  unsympathetic  and  unnatural  attempts  at 
"  wearing  of  the  Green." 

But  let  us  dismiss  the  subject  of  mere  facts  and  mere  con- 
struction, and  contemplate  the  spirit  which  actuated  the  worker. 
In  poetry  Lionel  Johnson  is  intense;  in  critical  vein  he  is  large, 
broad,  and  kindly.  Whether  we  read  his  early  effusion  on  The 
Fools  of  Shakespeare,  whether  we  entertain  ourselves  with  the 
essay  which  revolves  about  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy;  whether 
we  assist  at  a  review  of  the  credentials  of  a  newly-published  volume ; 
whether  we  read  the  poetic  eulogy  to  Walter  Pater;  whether  we 
dip  into  his  work  at  an  early  or  a  late  period;  whatever  the  style, 
the  spirit  is  the  same.  And  that  spirit  is  one  of  fine  nobility,  vast 
scope,  and  gentle  thoughtfulness.  There  is  always  a  feeling  for 
humanity,  a  dignified  respect  for  a  sympathetic  interpretation  of 
men  and  of  man.  It  is  a  critical  attitude,  and  it  is  a  critical  manner, 
infinitely  desirable  though  rarely  found. 

Lionel  Johnson  enjoyed  a  limited  reputation  as  a  critic;  he 
won  recognition  as  a  poet;  and  his  fame  has  not  only  persisted  since 
his  death:  it  has  increased.  Previous  to  1902  he  had  published 
only  three  books:  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy  in  1894,  Poems  in 


62      POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON       [April, 

1895,  and  Ireland  with  Other  Poems  in  1897.  Each  of  these  was 
almost  immediately  re-issued  in  either  New  York  or  Boston,  and 
all  were  reviewed  by  almost  all  of  the  periodicals  then  publishing 
critical  notices  of  new  books.  Most  of  the  comments  were  very 
favorable,  except  for  occasional  mention  of  unnecessary  scholarli- 
ness  in  the  poems,  of  unnecessary  display  of  learning  in  the  Hardy 
volume.  It  is  very  interesting  to  notice  how  he  has  come  into 
his  own  since  his  death. 

Selections  from  his  poems  were  published  in  London  in  1908; 
in  1904  Mr.  Yeats  picked  out  XXL  Poems  to  be  printed  by  the 
Dun  Emer  Press  of  Dublin,  and  Mr.  Thomas  B.  Mosher,  maker 
of  fine  books,  reprinted  these  in  1908,  with  seven  additional  ones 
of  his  own  choice  at  Portland,  Maine;  in  1911  Mr.  Thomas  Whitte- 
more  edited  Post  Liminium,  which  appeared  in  New  York  in  1912, 
and  which  met  a  hearty  reception  among  the  critics  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic;  and  in  1912  Mr.  Elkin  Mathews  published  another 
selection  entitled  Some  Poems,  with  a  biographical  sketch  by  Louise 
Imogen  Guiney.  Aside  from  the  notices  of  these  books,  which  were 
published  almost  as  a  matter  of  course,  there  have  been  an  amazing 
number  of  papers  written  about  him.  It  seems  from  the  tenor 
of  these  that  the  spirit  of  the  man  lives  and  obtains  influence  aside 
from  any  specific  item  'of  his  writing.  Since  1902  there  have 
been  no  less  than  ten  critical  articles,  all  of  considerable  length, 
and  dignified,  sober,  serious  articles  in  reputable  magazines,  or  as 
parts  of  more  pretentious  essay  collections — not  the  dashed-off, 
hasty-and-shallow- judgment,  book-review  type.  Ten  articles,  one 
for  each  year!  These  fall  naturally  and  immediately  into  two 
groups,  those  occasioned  by  his  death,  and  the  very  recent  ones. 

The  number  of  appreciations  of  Lionel  Johnson  which  have 
been  printed  since  the  beginning  of  1912  would  seem  to  augur  that 
our  poet  is  at  last  coming  into  his  own,  that  the  brave  optimism  is 
beginning  to  win  the  general  recognition  it  deserves,  and  that  the 
future  will  see  his  renown  steadily  grow  greater  and  greater  as  the 
world  comes  to  know  more  and  more  of  the  acute  little  thinker 
and  high  idealist  of  Clifford's  Inn. 


Be  it  prose  or  be  it  poetry,  the  chief  inspiration  of  Lionel 
Johnson  can  be  generalized  into  a  reverence  for  the  "  best  that  has 
been  thought  and  said  in  the  world."  In  literature  he  turned  to 


1913-]       POETRY  AND  PROSE  OF  LIONEL  JOHNSON      63 

classicism;  in  religion  he  turned  to  Catholicism.  His  boundless 
optimism  lived  for  Ireland  in  the  Church.  In  the  words  of  Poe, 
poetry  was  to  him  not  a  purpose  but  a  passion — and  the  passions 
should  be  held  in  reverence.  Criticism  was  a  purpose — by  it  he 
earned  his  living.  It  is  when  the  dreamer  dreams  that  he  is  at  his 
greatest,  and  Lionel  Johnson  is  most  truly  inspired  when  he,  appre- 
hending as  by  mystical  intuition,  breaks  into  poetry — poetry  kindled 
from  deep  experience  and  based  on  the  wonder  and  greatness  of 
existence.  In  verse  he  writes  not  for  a  periodical  or  for  an  editor, 
not  for  a  day,  a  decade,  or  a  century;  but  for  his  God  and  for  all 
time: 

A  gleam  of  Heaven ;  the  passion  of  a  star 
Held  captive  in  the  clasp  of  harmony : 

A  silence,   shell-like  breathing   from   afar 
The  rapture  of  the  deep — eternity.* 

He  will  be  known  in  the  future,  not  as  the  kindly  friend  of 
a  few  callers  at  Clifford's  Inn,  not  as  a  worshipper  and  singer  of 
the  praises  of  Kathleen  ni  Houlihan,  not  as  an  austere,  dignified 
critic  with  a  classical  spirit  and  a  careful  style,  but  as  one  who,  in 
the  strength  of  his  Faith,  saw  with  his  eyes,  and  sang  for  joy 
of  the  sight,  saw  with  his  eyes,  the  Eyes  of  the  Crucified. 

*Poem  by  Father  John  Banister  Tabb,  entitled  Poetry. 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME. 

BY   W.   E.    CAMPBELL. 

VII. 

ORE  was  now,  at  last,  to  be  drawn  into  the  vortex 
of  Court  life  in  spite  of  himself.  At  the  earnest 
request  of  the  English  Merchants  he  was,  by  the 
King's  consent,  twice  made  ambassador  in  important 
matters.  This  was  in  1516.  A  little  later  his  bril- 
liant defense  of  the  Pope's  right  to  a  vessel  claimed  in  forfeiture 
by  the  King,  made  further  resistance  to  the  royal  wishes  impossible. 
The  Court  at  this  time  was  not  without  its  attractions  even  for 
a  man  like  More.  Henry  VIIL,  at  twenty-six,  was  in  the  first 
freshness  of  his  manhood.  His  father  had  laid  the  foundations 
upon  which  he  was  eminently  fitted  to  build  a  stately  edifice  of 
kingly  authority.  The  power  of  the  old  nobility  had  been  destroyed 
both  by  the  ravages  of  civil  war  and  by  the  deliberate  policy  of 
Henry  VII.  "  Feudal  society  has  been  described  as  a  pyramid ; 
the  upper  slopes  were  now. washed  away,  leaving  an  unscaleable 
precipice,  at  the  top  of  which  stood  the  Tudor  monarch  alone  in 
his  glory."  And  Henry  VIIL  came  to  this  great  position  richly 
endowed  with  mental  and  physical  gifts.  His  unusual  excellence 
at  all  kinds  of  sport  and  martial  exercise  made  him  the  idol  of 
ordinary  folk.  He  could  draw  a  bow,  tame  a  horse,  shiver  a  lance, 
wrestle,  joust,  hunt  or  play  with  the  best.  "  Love  for  the  King," 
writes  a  foreign  chronicler,  "  is  universal  with  all  who  see  him ;  for 
his  Highness  does  not  seem  a  person  of  this  world,  but  descended 
from  heaven."  Giustiniani,  the  Venetian  ambassador,  to  whom 
we  owe  so  many  delightful  pictures  of  the  English  Court,  describes 
him  as  so  handsome  that  Nature  could  not  have  done  more  for  him. 
Wolsey  was  of  course  the  great  political  figure  of  the  Court, 
and  to  him,  in  these  earlier  years  of  the  reign,  Henry  left  the  whole 
management  of  state  affairs.  "  Wolsey,"  says  Giustiniani,  "  rules 
both  the  King  and  the  entire  kingdom."  On  the  ambassador's 
first  arrival  in  England,  Wolsey  used  to  say,  "  His  Majesty  will  do 
so  and  so;"  subsequently,  by  degrees,  forgetting  himself,  he  com- 
menced saying,  "  We  shall  do  so  and  so,"  at  this  present  he  has 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  65 

reached  such  a  pitch  that  he  says,  "  I  shall  do  so  and  so."  He  is 
about  forty-six  years  old,  very  handsome,  learned,  extremely  elo- 
quent, of  vast  ability  and  indefatigable.  He  alone  transacts  the 
same  business  as  that  which  occupies  all  the  magistracies,  offices, 
and  councils  of  Venice,  both  civil  and  criminal ;  and  all  state  affairs 
are  likewise  managed  by  him,  let  their  nature  be  what  it  may.  He 
is  pensive,  and  has  the  reputation  of  being  extremely  just;  he  favors 
the  people  exceedingly,  especially  the  poor,  hearing  their  suits,  and 
seeking  to  dispatch  them  instantly.  He  also  makes  the  lawyers 
plead  gratis  for  all  poor  suitors.  He  is  in  very  great  repute,  seven 
times  more  so  than  if  he  were  Pope.  He  has  a  very  fine  palace, 
where  one  traverses  eight  rooms  before  reaching  his  audience  cham- 
ber, and  they  are  all  hung  with  tapestry,  which  is  changed  once  a 
week.  His  sideboard  of  plate  is  worth  twenty-five  thousand  ducats. 
In  his  own  chamber  there  is  always  a  cupboard  with  vessels  to 
the  amount  of  thirty  thousand  ducats,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  English  nobility.  He  lived  in  fact  in  a  style  of  unparalleled 
magnificence  and  splendor.  Everything  about  him  was  conceived 
in  the  handsomest  manner,  his  palaces  and  colleges,  his  pictures, 
his  minstrels  and  singing-boys,  his  attendants  with  their  crimson 
liveries  were  the  envy  not  of  nobles  but  of  kings.  "  He  kept  a 
noble  house,"  says  Cavendish,  his  secretary  and  faithful  biogra- 
pher, "  and  plenty  both  of  meat  and  drink  for  all  comers,  both 
for  rich  and  poor,  and  much  alms  given  at  his  gates."  Probably 
no  subject  of  the  crown  in  the  whole  course  of  English  history 
left  upon  his  contemporaries  so  deep  an  impression  of  wealth, 
power,  and  magnificence. 

Wolsey  was  the  greatest  statesman  of  his  age,  but  his  state- 
craft lay  almost  wholly  in  the  direction  of  foreign  affairs;  and 
we  should  not  pay  too  much  attention  to  those  historical  enthu- 
siasts who  claim  for  him  as  well  the  title  of  educator,  religious 
and  domestic  reformer. 

"  The  bent  of  his  genius,"  writes  Brewer,  "  was  exclusively 

political ;  but  it  leaned  more  to  foreign  than  domestic  politics 

But  throughout  the  whole  period  of  his  long  administration,  and 
through  all  his  correspondence,  it  is  remarkable  how  small  a  por- 
tion of  his  thoughts  is  occupied  with  domestic  affairs;  and  with 
religious  matters  still  less"* 

Henry  VIII.  was  as  richly  endowed  in  mind  as  in  body,  and 
there  was  an  intellectual  side  to  his  Court  which  reflected  his  mental 

*Brewer,    i.,    pp.    58,    59. 
VOL.  XCVII. — 5- 


66  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [April, 

quality.  He  had  been  carefully  educated,  at  first  with  a  view  to 
the  ecclesiastical  life,  and  had  shown  signs  of  great  intellectual 
precocity.  But  the  development  of  his  mind  must  have  been  much 
unsteadied  by  his  youthful  zeal  for  pleasure  and  sport  of  every  kind. 
Even  as  late  as  1520,  Pace  writes  to  Wolsey  complaining  of  his 
excessive  devotion  to  hunting.  "  The  King  rises  daily,  except  on 
holy  days,  at  four  or  five,  and  hunts  till  nine  or  ten  at  night.  He 
spares  no  pains  to  convert  the  sport  of  hunting  into  a  martyrdom."* 
His  mind,  not  to  speak  of  his  moral  nature,  must  have  developed 
very  slowly  during  the  brilliant  and  pleasure-loving  years  of  his 
early  married  life — Queen  Katherine  spoke  of  it  as  one  of  continual 
feasting.  In  the  winter  evenings  there  were  masks  and  plays  and 
revels,  in  which  Henry  himself,  Bessie  Blount,  and  other  young 
ladies  of  the  Court  took  part.  In  the  spring  and  summer  there  was 
archery  and  tennis.  Music  was  practiced  by  day  and  night,  and 
there  were,  of  course,  the  more  serious  athletic  displays.  It  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  King  paid  so  little  attention  to  State 
business ;  whatever  time  was  left  over  for  mental  pursuits  was  given 
to  an  easy  patronage  of  the  intellectual  members  of  his  Court,  and  to 
discussions  theological  and  otherwise.  Henry,  himself,  complained 
to  Mount  joy  that  he  was  still  so  ignorant.  There  is  no  doubt, 
however,  that  Henry  was  the  most  accomplished  monarch  of  his 
time.  Erasmus  speaks  of  him  with  great,  if  rather  exaggerated, 
respect. 

His  book  against  Luther,  for  there  is  little  doubt  that  he  was 
mainly  responsible  for  it,  gives  evidence  of  fairly  extensive  theo- 
logical learning,  though  "it  does  not  rank  so  high  in  the  realm  of 
theology  as  do  some  of  Henry's  compositions  in  that  of  music."  At 
a  later  date,  indeed,  he  inspired  Cardinal  Campeggio  with  profound 
respect  for  the  soundness  of  his  theological  knowledge.  A  monarch 
who  could  surround  himself  with  such  courtiers  as  Mount  joy, 
Linacre,  Pace,  Colet,  Stokesley,  Latimer,  Tunstal,  Clerk,  and  More 
must  have  had  very  sound  intellectual  predilections. f 

At  the  time  of  More's  entry  into  political  life,  Henry  had  not 
assumed  personal  control  of  state  affairs;  but  there  are  many  evi- 
dences that  he  was  feeling  his  way  towards  it.  Wolsey  had  not  quite 
prepared  the  great  position  which  his  master  was  so  soon  to  occupy 
at  the  cost  of  his  own  downfall.  The  lion,  as  More  said,  had  not  yet 
realized  his  own  strength ;  but  it  would  be  hard  for  any  man  to  rule 
him  when  that  time  should  arrive. 

*State  Papers,  vol.  iii.,  no.  950.        tC/.  Erasmus,  State  Papers,  vol.  ii.,  no.  4340. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  67 

The  sweating  sickness  was  now  very  prevalent.  More  writes 
to  Erasmus  in  1517,  "  We  are  in  the  greatest  sorrow  and  danger. 
Multitudes  are  dying  all  around  us:  almost  everyone  in  Oxford, 
Cambridge,  and  London  has  been  ill  lately,  and  we  have  lost  many 
of  our  best  and  most  honoured  friends."  One  of  its  results  was  to 
drive  the  King  and  his  Court  from  London,  and  indirectly  it  had 
a  very  bad  effect  on  business.  Much  discontent  arose  in  the  city, 
especially  on  account  of  the  foreign  merchants  who  were  swarming 
into  England  and  taking  away  the  Court  patronage.  The  municipal 
authorities,  in  the  absence  of  the  Court,  were  unequal  to  the  pres- 
ervation of  order. 

Matters  were  brought  to  a  head  by  a  sermon  preached  by  a 
certain  Franciscan,  who  denounced  the  numbers  and  doings  of  the 
foreigners.  The  prentices  and  others  to  the  number  of  two  thou- 
sand attacked  the  French,  Flemish,  and  Italian  quarters,  and  were 
only  quelled  by  means  of  the  troops  whom  Wolsey  had  ordered  to 
march  into  London  from  the  outlying  districts.  More  did  his  best 
to  calm  the  rioters,  and  was  afterwards  appointed  to  inquire  into 
the  causes  of  the  disturbance,  as  he  himself  tells  us  in  his  Apology 
(E.  W./p.  930  sq.).  But  the  trouble  did  not  end  here,  as  we  learn 
from  a  dispatch  of  the  Venetian  ambassador,  who  speaks  of  another 
conspiracy  to  murder  strangers  and  sack  their  houses  in  the  fol- 
lowing September — the  King  and  his  Court  being  still  absent  from 
London.* 

A  letter  from  More  to  Erasmus  about  this  time  shows  how 
busily  he  was  occupied  with  Court  business,  while  his  mind  occa- 
sionally took  relaxation  in  Utopian  imaginations. 

I  am  in  the  clouds  [he  writes]  with  the  dream  of  government 
offered  me  by  my  Utopians.  I  fancy  myself  a  grand  potentate, 
with  a  crown  and  a  Franciscan  cloak,  followed  by  a  magnificent 
procession  of  the  Amaurai.  Should  it  please  heaven  to  exalt 
me  to  this  high  dignity  where  I  shall  be  too  exalted  to  think 
of  commonplace  acquaintances,  I  will  still  keep  a  corner  in  my 
heart  for  Erasmus  and  Tunstal ;  and  should  you  pay  me  a  visit, 
I  will  make  my  subjects  honor  you  as  is  befitting  the  friends  of 
majesty.  But,  alas,  my  dream  is  dispelled:  I  am  stripped  of 
my  royalty,  and  am  plunged  once  more  down  into  the  old  mill- 
round  of  the  court. 

More  was  now  to  be  drawn  into  the  web  of  foreign  diplomacy. 

*State  Papers,  vol.   ii.,  no.   3697. 


68  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [April, 

In  August  he  was  appointed  on  a  Commission  to  adjudicate  between 
the  English  and  French  merchants,  at  Calais,  in  order  to  save  both 
sides  the  expense  of  litigation.  The  business  was  long  and  tedious, 
especially  so  to  More.  "  What  a  thing  it  is,"  writes  Erasmus  with 
reference  to  his  friend,  "  to  be  blessed  by  kings  and  loved  by  Car- 
dinals." In  spite  of  his  aversion  to  this  kind  of  life,  More's  in- 
fluence with  the  King  was  evidently  very  strong,  for  we  have  a 
letter  of  his  written  to  Warham,  congratulating  that  prelate  on  his 
retirement  from  the  Chancellorship.  He  speaks  of  the  difficulty 
he  had  in  persuading  the  King  to  allow  Warham's  resignation,  and 
envies  him  for  his  new-found  leisure,  while  he  himself  is  so  dis- 
tracted with  business  that  he  can  hardly  find  time  to  write  this  letter. 

More  returned  from  this  uncongenial  mission  in  November. 
In  1518  he  was  appointed  Master  of  Requests,  a  post  which  in- 
volved constant  attendance  upon  the  King,  and  the  examination  of 
all  petitions  presented  on  the  royal  progresses  through  the  country. 
It  must  have  given  him  a  new  insight  into  the  problems  of  the 
countryside,  and  we  also  know  that  it  gave  him  many  opportunities 
of  helping  the  poor.  No  doubt  it  was  at  his  suggestion  that  in 
1521  the  Council  revived  the  statutes  against  unauthorized  en- 
closures. 

In  the  early  spring  of  1518,  while  the  Court  was  at  Abingdon, 
one  of  the  select  preachers  was  unwise  enough  to  rail  against  the 
study  of  Greek  and  the  new  interpreters  of  the  Scripture  before 
the  King.  The  unfortunate  theologian  was  afterwards  summoned 
to  the  royal  presence,  and  commanded  to  argue  out  his  contention 
with  Mr.  More.  More  spoke  first,  and  put  his  case  so  forcibly  that 
his  opponent,  instead  of  making  a  reply,  fell  on  his  knees  and 
sought  the  King's  pardon.  This  sermon  was  only  an  indication 
of  a  bitter  controversy  which  was  raging  at  Oxford  at  the  time. 
So  fierce  did  it  become  that  the  King,  anxious  to  protect  the  growing 
zeal  for  sound  knowledge,  instructed  More  to  address  a  letter  of 
warning  to  the  university  authorities. 

This  oration,  for  it  is  nothing  less,  is  too  long  for  quotation, 
but  its  general  purport  may  be  given.  When  in  London  More  had 
heard  that  certain  scholars  of  the  university  had  banded  themselves 
together  under  the  name  of  Trojans,  in  order  to  show  their  contempt 
for  Greek  studies.  This  might  be  all  very  well  as  a  joke,  but  he 
understood  it  was  leading  to  serious  evil  when  a  preacher,  in 
the  holy  season  of  Lent,  could  allow  himself  in  a  sermon  to  inveigh 
against  learning  itself.  For  what  purpose,  indeed,  did  the  univer- 


1913- 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME 


69 


sity  exist,  if  not  for  the  spread  of  knowledge?  He  could  under- 
stand that  a  holy  man,  long  withdrawn  from  the  world  and  given 
to  watching,  to  fasting,  and  to  prayer,  might  come  out  of  his 
seclusion  in  order  to  warn  men  to  leave  study  for  that  which  was 
more  excellent  and  spiritual;  but  such  was  not  the  case  with  the 
preacher  mentioned,  who  loved  comfort  and  ignorance  rather  than 
true  piety.  Who  could  deem  this  anything  but  malice  and  envy? 
"  How  came  it  into  his  head  to  preach  about  the  Latin  tongue, 
of  which  he  knows  so  little ;  or  the  liberal  sciences  of  which  he  knows 
still  less;  or  about  Greek,  of  which  he  understands  not  one  iota? 
Had  he  not  matter  enough  in  the  seven  deadly  sins,  matter  indeed, 
in  which  he  had  far  greater  skill  ?  "  In  any  case  what  does  the 
university  exist  for  except  to  teach  knowledge  and  that  alone? 
Not  only  theology,  which  is  only  necessary  for  some  of  the  stu- 
dents, but  a  knowledge  of  human  affairs,  which  can  nowhere  be 
found  so  abundantly  as  in  the  works  of  poets,  orators,  and  his- 
torians. Even  theology  itself  is  difficult  of  thorough  attainment 
without  the  help  of  Latin,  of  Greek,  and  of  Hebrew.  There  is 
little  need  in  these  times  to  warn  people  against  learning:  they 
are  not  so  anxious  after  all  to  devote  themselves  to  it,  even  with 
great  persuasion.  In  conclusion,  More  addresses  himself  to  the 
university  authorities,  urging  the  advantages  of  Greek  studies, 
and  pointing  them  to  Cambridge  for  a  good  example.  He  apolo- 
gizes for  presuming  to  address  himself  to  people  so  much  more 
learned  than  himself,  and  warns  them  to  put  a  stop  to  the  factions 
which  were  a  disgrace  to  the  university,  lest  their  Chancellor  or 
the  Cardinal  of  York  be  forced  to  intervene.  Lastly ,  he  gives 
them  to  understand — and  this  is  the  point  of  the  whole  letter — 
that  the  King  will  tolerate  nothing  contrary  to  the  intellectual 
interests  of  a  place  so  favorably  cherished  by  himself  and  his 
ancestors. 

While  More  was  cudgelling  the  Oxford  dons  on  behalf  of 
sound  knowledge,  his  fellow-courtiers  were  otherwise  engaged. 
Considering  the  holiness  of  the  season,  they  had  abandoned  their 
usual  "  carding  and  dicing "  for  the  less  exciting  diversion  of 
"picking  of  arrows  over  the  screen  in  the  hall."  More  was  evi- 
dently "  the  friend  at  court "  of  all  followers  of  the  New  Learning. 
It  was  he  who  brought  Holbein  to  England,  and  secured  the  King's 
favor  and  patronage  for  any  distinguished  or  promising  scholars 
from  abroad,  or  from  our  own  universities.  Fisher,  the  Bishop 
of  Rochester,  for  instance,  sends  him  a  young  theologian  for  pre- 


70  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [April, 

sentation  to  the  King  with  a  letter  of  introduction,  which  shows 
how  strong  his  influence  must  have  been. 

Let  some  ray  of  favor  shine  from  the  throne,  by  your  means, 
upon  our  Cambridge  alumni,  in  order  to  quicken  and  spur  on 
our  youth  to  the  love  of  good  letters,  by  the  hope  of  sharing 
in  the  liberalities  of  so  flourishing  a  prince.  We  have  but  a 
few  friends  at  Court,  who  are  both  able  and  willing  to  recom- 
mend our  affairs  to  the  King's  Highness,  and  of  these  we  reckon 
you  the  first,  who  hitherto  and  while  in  a  lower  sphere  have 
ever  proved  yourself  our  kind  protector.  Now  that  you  are 
assumed  to  the  order  of  knighthood  (1521)  and  are  so  close 
to  the  King show  how  much  you  favor  us. 

A  further  annuity  of  £100  was  granted  to  More  in  1518 
out  of  the  little  customs  of  London;  and  although  he  is  called  a 
Councillor  as  early  as  1516,  he  does  not  appear  to  have  been  ad- 
mitted to  the  deliberations  of  the  Privy  Council  till  1518.  His 
correspondence  with  Erasmus  during  this  period  was  chiefly  con- 
cerned with  the  publication  of  his  own  Utopia,  his  Epigrammata, 
and  the  various  works  of  Erasmus  himself;  also  to  the  soliciting 
of  influence  and  substantial  patronage  for  his  impecunious  friend. 
One  letter  of  his  on  the  subject  of  Erasmus'  version  of  the  New 
Testament  is  of  considerable  importance,  especially  in  view  of  his 
own  later  controversy  with  Tyndale.  In  it  More  tells  of  Latimer's 
delight  over  Erasmus*  version,  and  warns  the  latter  against  the 
designs  of  certain  enemies  to  catch  him  in  a  trap. 

The  saintly  Bishop  of  Rochester  also  approved  of  Erasmus* 
New  Testament.  "The  New  Testament,  translated  by  you,"  he 
writes  in  1517,  "  for  the  common  benefit  of  all,  cannot  give  offence 
to  any  wise  person ;  when  you  have  not  only  cleared  up  innumerable 
passages  by  your  erudition,  but  have  also  supplied  a  very  complete 
commentary  on  the  whole  work."  More,  in  a  letter  to  his  friend, 
also  mentions  that  Fox,  after  Fisher  the  most  devout  and  influential 
member  of  the  English  episcopacy,  preaching  before  a  large  con- 
course of  people,  affirmed  that  Erasmus*  version  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment was  worth  more  to  him  than  ten  commentaries. 

In  the  important  letter  of  More  to  Erasmus,  just  mentioned, 
More  spoke  very  favorably  of  Hutten's  Epistle  of  Obscure  Men. 
His  commendation  was  passed  on  to  Hutten  himself  by  Erasmus 
in  a  letter  which  will  always  remain  as  one  of  the  most  finished, 
complete,  and  beautiful  descriptions  of  More  ever  written.  It  is  a 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  71 

difficult  task,  says  Erasmus,  to  describe  More,  but  he  will  do  his 
best.  He  is  somewhat  below  middle  height,  but  well-proportioned 
in  all  his  limbs;  his  complexion  is  fair  rather  than  pale,  with  as 
much  red  as  to  give  it  the  bloom  of  health.  His  hair  is  inclined 
to  black  or  brown;  he  has  a  thin  beard  and  gray  eyes  dotted  with 
specks,  which,  as  a  mark  of  genius,  is  much  admired  in  England, 
and  indicates  a  generous  nature.  His  inside  corresponds  to  his  out 
He  has  a  pleasant  smiling  look,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  is  more 
inclined  to  pleasantry  than  seriousness.  His  right  shoulder  is  a 
little  higher  than  his  left,  especially  when  he  walks,  but  this  is  not 
a  natural  defect,  but  an  acquired  imperfection.  As  compared  with 
the  rest  of  his  person,  his  hands  are  a  little  clumsy.  He  has  always 
been  careless  in  the  matter  of  dress.  Erasmus  became  acquainted 
with  him  when  he  was  twenty-three,  and  he  is  now  a  little  past 
forty.  Hutten  may  therefore  guess  how  handsome  More  was  in 
his  youth.  He  has  good  health  but  not  robust,  and  is  likely  to 
live  long,  as  his  father  is  a  very  hale  old  man.  He  is  careless 
as  to  his  food;  generally  drinks  water,  and  sometimes,  to  please 
others,  beer,  little  better  than  water,  out  of  a  tin  cup.  As  it  is 
customary  to  drink  healths  in  England,  More  pledges  his  guests 
ore  simmo.  His  favorite  diet  is  beef,  salt  meats,  and  coarse 
brown  bread  well  fermented;  he  prefers  milk  and  vegetable  diet, 
and  is  fond  of  eggs.  His  voice  is  penetrating  and  clear,  but  not 
musical,  although  he  is  fond  of  music;  his  speech  is  plain  and 
distinct.  He  wears  no  silk,  purple  or  gold  chains,  except  when 
he  cannot  avoid  it,  and  dislikes  all  ceremony. 

At  first  he  was  averse  to  a  Court  life  through  hatred  of 
tyranny  and  love  for  equality,  and  could  not  be  induced  to  take 
service  with  Henry  VIII.  except  after  great  solicitations.  He 
likes  liberty  and  ease,  but  no  one  is  more  active  or  more  patient 
than  he  when  occasion  requires  it.  He  is  friendly,  accessible,  and 
fond  of  conversation,  hating  tennis,  dice,  and  similar  games.  He 
is  very  much  given  to  jesting;  wrote  and  acted  little  comedies  when 
a  lad,  and  loves  a  jest  even  at  his  own  expense.  He  is  equally 
at  home  with  the  wise  and  the  foolish,  and  in  female  society  is  full 
of  jokes.  No  one  is  less  led  by  the  judgment  of  the  vulgar,  and 
yet  no  man  has  more  common  sense.  His  chief  pleasure  is  in 
watching  animals,  and  he  has  a  variety  of  them,  for  instance,  an 
ape,  a  ferret,  a  fox,  etc.  Any  rarity  or  exotic  he  purchases  readily, 
and  his  house  is  well  furnished  with  curiosities.  He  has  always 
been  fond  of  female  society  and  female  friendships.  As  a  young 


72  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [April, 

man  he  devoted  himself  to  Greek,  for  which  he  was  nearly  disin- 
herited by  his  father,  who  wished  to  bring  him  up  to  the  law — a 
profession  which,  above  all  others,  in  England  leads  to  honor  and 
emolument,  but  requires  many  years  of  hard  study. 
I*  Erasmus  then  gives  a  number  of  the  well-known  facts  of 
More's  earlier  life,  including  his  lectures  on  St.  Augustine,  his  wish 
for  the  religious  life,  his  first  marriage  and  his  second.  Nothing, 
he  proceeds,  can  show  his  influence  over  (his  second  wife)  more 
completely  than  that,  though  advanced  in  life  and  very  attentive  to 
housekeeping,  More  persuaded  her  to  learn  various  musical  instru- 
ments. He  manages  his  whole  household  in  an  admirable  way; 
there  is  no  noise  or  contention ;  no  vice,  no  bad  repute ;  and  perhaps 
no  family  can  be  found  where  father  and  step-mother  and  son  live 
together  on  such  excellent  terms.  Moreover,  his  father  had  just 
married  a  third  wife,  and  More  swears  he  has  never  seen  a  better 
one. 

When  he  lived  entirely  by  his  profession,  he  gave  every  man 
true  and  faithful  advice,  urging  them  to  make  up  their  differences, 
though  it  was  against  his  own  interests.  When  that  was  not  pos- 
sible, as  some  persons  take  pleasure  in  litigation,  he  showed  them 
how  to  proceed  at  the  smallest  cost.  He  was  for  some  time  a 
judge  of  civil  suits  in  London,  an  easy  and  honorable  post,  as  he 
only  sat  on  Thursdays  till  dinner  time. 

After  that  he  was  sent  on  various  embassies  by  Henry  VIII. , 
who  takes  great  delight  in  his  company  and  conversation.  With 
all  this  favor  he  is  neither  proud  nor  boastful,  nor  forgetful  of  his 
friends,  but  always  obliging  and  charitable. 

Then  follows  an  account  of  More's  literary  undertakings.  His 
Utopia  was  written  to  show  the  perils  to  which  governments  are 
exposed,  but  was  especially  aimed  at  his  own  country.  He  is 
a  good  extempore  speaker,  has  a  ready  wit  and  a  well-stored 
memory,  so  that  he  speaks  without  hesitation.  Colet  was  accus- 
tomed to  say  of  him  that  "  He  was  the  only  genius  in  England." 
In  his  devotions  he  prays  from  the  heart,  and  he  talks  with  his 
friends  on  the  future  life  with  perfect  sincerity  and  hope.* 

More  had  evidently  all  the  diplomatic  gifts,  for  we  find  Giustin- 
iani  writing  to  the  Doge  of  Venice  that  he  had  "  contrived  a  con- 
ference with  Thomas  More,  newly  made  Councillor,"  with  a  view 
to  gaining  information  on  the  new  French  alliance.  Our  diplomatic 
novice,  however,  pretended  to  know  nothing,  saying  that  not  even 

*State  Papers,  vol.  iii.,  no.  394. 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME 


73 


the  King  knew  anything  of  the  matter,  much  less  any  of  the  am- 
bassadors. In  July,  1518,  Cardinal  Campeggio  came  to  England 
as  a  legate  a  latere  ostensibly  to  discuss  the  eternal  question  of  the 
Turks.  He  was  received  with  great  pomp,  being  met  at  Blackheath 
by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  a  large  retinue.  On  arriving  in  Lon- 
don, he  was  welcomed  at  Cheapside  by  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen, 
and  a  brief  Latin  oration  was  delivered  by  "  Mr.  More."  He  then 
proceeded  to  St.  Paul's,  where  he  was  met  by  the  Bishop  of  London 
and  conducted  to  the  High  Altar.  We  notice  More's  name  on  the 
Commission  of  Peace  for  Kent.  On  October  2d  he  was  one  of 
the  signatories  to  a  Treaty  of  Universal  Peace  (with  France),  and 
to  a  Treaty  of  Marriage  between  the  Dauphin  and  the  Princess 
Mary  on  October  4th.  In  the  following  month  Queen  Katherine 
gave  birth  to  a  daughter,  causing  much  disappointment  to  all,  as  it 
was  feared  the  English  crown  might  now  pass  to  France. 

On  June  i,  1519,  More  was  presented  with  a  corrody  or  pen- 
sion in  Galstonbury.  On  July  23d  he  resigned  his  office  of  Under- 
Sheriff  to  the  City  of  London,  and  from  this  event  we  may  date  his 
complete  absorption  by  the  royal  service.  We  notice  that  from 
this  time  his  name  occurs  among  those  of  officials  who  breakfast 
at  Court,  and  we  may  gather  from  this  that  even  when  the  King 
was  in  London,  More  could  have  spent  little  time  in  his  own  home. 
Roper  confirms  this  inference  when  he  tells  us  that 

because  he  was  of  a  pleasant  disposition,  it  pleased  the  King 
and  the  Queen,  after  the  Council  had  supped,  at  the  time  of 
their  supper,  for  their  pleasure  commonly,  to  call  for  him,  and 
to  be  merry  with  them.  When  he  (More)  perceived  so  much 
in  his  talk  to  delight,  that  he  could  not  once  in  a  month  get 
leave  to  go  home  to  his  wife  and  children  (whose  company  he 
most  desired),  and  to  be  absent  from  the  Court  two  days 
together,  but  that  he  should  be  thither  sent  for  again,  he  much 
misliking  this  restraint  of  liberty,  began  thereupon  somewhat 
to  dissemble  his  nature,  and  so  by  little  and  little  from  his 
former  mirth  disuse  himself,  that  he  was  of  them  from  thence- 
forth no  more  so  ordinarily  sent  for. 


LEAD   US   NOT   INTO   TEMPTATION. 

BY    PIA    ROBINSON. 

[THIN  my  grasp "     Yes,  it  was  so.     For  years 

it  had  scarcely  been  more  than  a  longing,  cruel  at 
times,  an  ardent  wish  full  of  many  possibilities,  but 
wrapped  in  a  hazy,  cloudy  atmosphere  which  soft- 
ened its  outlines,  hid  its  defects,  dulled  its  ruddy 
glow.  And  now,  it  had  unexpectedly  come  to  me ;  the  letter,  which 
I  unknowingly  crushed  in  my  hand,  had  told  it.  There  was  this 
thing,  for  which  a  keen  desire  had  followed  me  through  life,  step 
by  step,  and  which  had  remained  so  far  as  intangible,  as  impalpable, 
as  my  own  shadow  standing  suddenly  at  hand.  Real,  materialized 
so  to  speak ;  at  least  as  far  as  such  things  can  be.  It  was  mine  for 

the  mere  taking for  the  stretching  out  of  my  hand. 

My  heart  was  beating  loudly ;  I  felt  my  eyes  burning,  my  face 
drawn  and  pale.  To  eat  was  sheer  impossibility:  with  some  pre- 
text I  left  the  breakfast  table,  gained  the  terrace,  and  through  pure 
instinct  turned  towards  the  thick,  shadowy  wood.  An  intense 
June  sun  colored  it  brilliantly,  shooting  here  and  there  its  arrows 
of  fire  to  the  very  depth  of  the  cool,  restful  gloom.  Up  and  up 
the  hill  I  went.  Through  masses  of  huge  ferns,  fragments  of 
rocks,  thorny  briars,  over-creeping  gray  lichen,  shining  under  the 
dew  as  under  diamond  dust,  higher  and  higher  I  climbed,  absently, 
hurriedly,  until,  stopped  by  a  range  of  jutting  pieces  of  granite, 
I  could  climb  no  further. 

And  there,  on  a  big  mossy  slab,  reached  only  by  dancing  shafts 
of  yellow  light  through  the  thick  trees,  I  sat  down.  Vaguely,  me- 
chanically, I  seemed  to  take  in  the  panorama  of  beauty  before  which 
pure  chance  appeared  to  have  brought  me. 

Through  the  tops  of  long  branches,  spread  like  lace  before  my 
eyes,  I  could  make  out  a  golden  stretch  of  sand,  a  space  of  blue 
motionless  sea,  sharply  cut,  at  the  other  side  of  the  bay,  by  heathery 
pink  and  brown  hills.  And  behind  these  higher  ranges  of  deep 
blue  mountains,  repeating  themselves  again  and  again,  paler  and 
grayer,  till  the  last  melted  against  the  soft  sky.  Around  me  the 
fern  tips  curved  gracefully,  everywhere  under  my  feet  ivy  spread 
its  glossy  carpet;  here  and  there  countless  grasses  and  wild  plants 


1913.]  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION  75 

balanced  their  dainty  stems  under  the  weight  of  the  thousand- 
colored  flies;  tiny  living  rainbows  flashing  side  by  side  with  those 
of  the  dewdrops.  As  I  leant  back  against  the  cold  rock,  breathing 
with  a  strange  effort,  I  closed  my  eyes.  As  I  did  so,  I  caught 
the  faint  rustling  of  the  paper  in  my  hand;  my  heart  seemed  to 
leap  to  my  throat  with  sheer  joy.  At  long  last ! 

So  dreams  do  become  realities!  So  the  cup  can  be  occasion- 
ally filled  to  the  brim  for  human  lips  to  drink!  So  there  are 
times  in  this  short  life  when  the  sky  is  intensely  blue,  the  sea 
offering  no  limit;  when  throbbing  nature,  in  her  delight,  wraps 
her  mantle  of  golden  green  around  human  shoulders,  when  the  air, 
full  of  perfume,  of  harmony,  becomes  intoxicating,  when  the 
only  pain,  intense  perhaps,  is  because  of  the  sensation  of  one's 
heart  being  too  small,  one's  lungs  too  narrow,  one's  bodily  prison 
too  closely  walled  for  such  joy.  But  one  can  beat  against  the 
bars;  the  harsh  tingling  left  by  the  blows  is  but  a  keener  joy;  one 
can  tear  open  the  small  heart;  its  warm  trickling  blood  is  but  added 
pleasure.  And  this  was  all  mine,  all !  as  I  remained  silent,  absorbed, 
vibrating. 

"  Was  " !  did  I  say,  but  had  it  really  been? For 

the  fraction  of  a  second  it  seemed  to  exist,  no  more. 

When  it  had  reached  its  greatest  size,  its  most  intense  coloring, 
the  bubble  I  might  have  called  "happiness,"  had  it  lasted  long 
enough,  had  burst  noiselessly  in  a  tiny  shower  of  sparkling  drops. 
It  was  gone,  gone  in  a  pang  of  crushing  pain.  I  opened  my  eyes  and 
looked  steadily  before  me.  What  had  happened?  In  an  instant 
the  blue  of  the  sky,  the  peace  of  the  sea,  the  caressing  shadow  of 
the  wood  had  died  away;  or  had  I  merely  lost  touch  with  them? 
The  dying  perfume  of  a  little  sprig  of  bruised  lavender  alone 
reached  my  nostrils,  and  with  an  effort  I  took  a  deep  breath.  It 
had  been  as  a  loving  thought  sent  from  afar  to  hover  round  me. 

And  so  it  was;  the  dream  becoming  reality,  the  reality  within 
reach,  were  still  in  some  way  facing  me,  stretching  arms  to  me, 
calling  my  name  aloud;  I  was  to  stand  back,  to  turn  from  my 
real  dream,  to  leave  it  useless,  tumbled,  forgotten  on  the  roadway 
behind  me.  I  was  to  ask  for  it  no  more,  to  think  of  it  no  more,  to 

wish  for  it never  more.  Because  when  I  had  run  to  meet  it, 

when  I  had  drawn  it  to  me,  I  had  scattered  its  clouding  veils. 
Its  outlines  had  appeared  sharp  and  cutting  as  steel;  its  warm  glow 
had  thrown  a  lurid  light;  its  brilliant  flowers  had  exhaled  an  acrid, 
bitter  scent. 


;6  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION  [April, 

I  knew  then  what  it  truly  meant.  But  could  I,  would  I,  let 
it  slip  away  without  a  protest,  without  a  struggle?  Danger  was 
there,  clearly,  unmistakably,  but  what  matter? 

One  can  cope  with  dangers  of  all  kinds;  why  not  face  it  and 
hold  it  down?  Should  every  hope,  pleasure,  sunshine  be  sacrificed 
because  of  a  mere  threatening?  True,  whosoever  seeks  danger 
shall  perish  in  it;  but  did  I  seek  it? The  dream  of  a  life- 
time had  come  to  me  unasked,  was  I  to  trample  on  it  because  pru- 
dence called  out  to  me?  Let  prudence  call;  forewarned  is  fore- 
armed. No,  I  refused  to  stand  away! 

I  blindly  bent  forward,  my  hands  tightly  clasped  under  my 
chin,  and  somewhere  in  me  an  agonized  voice  sobbed  fiercely, 
"  My  God !  oh,  God !  "  But  no  one  answered. 

The  beating  of  my  pulse  hammered  heavily,  repeatedly,  the 
same  words :  "  He  who  seeks  danger  " 

As  if  danger  was  not  ever  and  always  before  us!  Is  life 
itself  free  from  a  hundred  pitfalls?  Yet  we  must  cling  to  it. 
Why  then  should  I  dash  away  the  only  thing  I  found  worth  having 
in  this  miserable  little  world? 

Surely,  obviously,  God  did  not would  not  ask  it  of  me 

I  said  this  over  and  over  again,  burying  my  rings  in  my 

bruised  fingers,  but  I  knew,  I  knew!  And  yet  I  could  not  yield; 
misery,  revolt,  pain,  united  to  strengthen  my  will. 

This  strange  thing  happened  once  more,  that  the  Supreme 
Will  saw  and  waited,  refraining  from  crushing  the  freedom  of 
the  puny,  foolish,  ungrateful  thing  which  is  called  a  human  being. 

I  ceased  in  some  strange  way  to  think;  I  became  aware  by 
degrees  of  the  clearness  of  all  sounds  in  the  heated  atmosphere,  of 
the  activity  of  the  insect  world,  of  the  slow  breaking  of  lazy  waves 
on  the  shore;  and  of  a  rustling  through  the  wood.  The  dead 
branches  broke  under  somebody's  foot,  a  glimmer  of  white  became, 
now  and  then,  visible  through  the  trees,  and  presently  a  figure  stood 
at  a  few  steps  from  me. 

It  was  a  slight  woman's  figure  in  a  white  serge  costume.  The 
soft  lines  of  the  very  intelligent  face  gave  an  impression  of  deep 
latent  power  rather  than  of  quick  action ;  the  eyes  in  spite  of  extreme 
gentleness  were  strangely  intent  and  observing.  It  was  her  smile, 
and  her  smile  alone,  which  could  give  the  key  to  that  somewhat 
complex  personality.  At  such  a  moment  she  was  laughing  mis- 
chievously. 

"And  so  I  have  found  you,  have  I?     Do  you  feel  as  if  you 


1913.]  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION  77 

could  abuse  me  soundly  for  breaking  in  on  your  meditations?  As 
a  matter  of  fact  it  was  more  by  good  luck  than  otherwise ;  I  should 
scarcely  have  succeeded  if " 

She  was  now  quite  close  to  me. 

"If  what?  "I  asked. 

"  If  I  had  not  been  bent  on  charitable  deeds.  Just  think, 
those  horrid  boys  have  set  rabbit  traps  all  through  the  wood.  I 
was  only  just  in  time  to  save  a  poor  little  wretch  from  being  caught." 

She  was  looking  for  a  comfortable  stone  on  which  to  sit  near 
me.  I  placed  my  jacket  on  the  slab  where  I  rested  my  feet. 

"  Come  here,"  said  I,  "  that  is,  unless  you  prefer  to  add,  by 
way  of  ornament,  a  touch  of  green  to  your  immaculate  frock." 

She  obeyed  leisurely,  rested  one  of  her  elbows  on  my  knees,  and 
glanced  around. 

"  What  a  delightful  little  corner,"  she  remarked.  "  How  did 
you  find  it?  " 

"  As  you  found  me,  I  suppose,  by  chance."  Whether  or  no 
there  was  something  unusual  in  my  tone,  she  looked  up.  For  a 
second  her  eyes  plunged  to  my  very  soul,  but  she  was  hardly  aware 
of  it,  being  intent  on  her  own  thoughts,  not  mine. 

"  I  wonder  how  it  is,"  she  began,  "  that  boys,  who  for  the  most 
part  turn  into  fairly  decent  men,  are  so  brutal  and  unfeeling  in  their 
early  youth.  Do  you  know,  that  not  only  have  they  set  up  as  many 
traps  as  they  could  get,  but  they  have  taken  the  trouble  to  place 
large  clumps  of  wild  thyme  near  them.  Is  there  not  a  distinctly 
refined  cruelty  in  tempting  the  poor  little  beasts  to  their  horrid  fate 
through  something  they  like  so  much  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  I  said  cynically,  "  if  we  are  to  be  tempted  at  all,  it 
must  be  through  some  thing  we  like." 

This  time,  when  she  turned  her  very  blue  eyes  on  me,  there  was 
a  half -searching  expression  in  their  depths. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  she  replied,  slowly,  hesitatingly;  "but  it  is 
not  quite  the  same,  is  it?  For  instance,  all  that  the  poor  rabbits 
have  to  keep  them  safe  is  a  certain  amount  of  instinctive  distrust, 
which  does  not  necessarily  prevent  their  being  deceived.  Now,  on 
the  contrary,  we " 

"Yes? " 

''  We  are  never  really  placed  in  the  same  position  so  far  as 
temptation  alone  is  concerned.  Wherever  we  see  an  extra  luxuriant 
clump  of  thyme,  we  know  pretty  clearly  that  it  spells  'traps/  don't 
we?" 


78  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION  [April, 

"  We  might  take  it  for  granted  at  any  rate." 

"  If  we  are  wise,  we  do." 

"Do  we?" 

For  the  shortest  possible  period,  there  was  a  pause.  But  she 
went  on. 

"  Put  it  any  way  you  like,"  she  continued ;  "  no  animal  is 
taught  by  Nature  that  there  are  such  things  as  traps,  while  we  all 
know  what  happens  if  we  deliberately  yield  to  temptation." 

"  Represented  by  the  clump  of  thyme  ?  " 

"  If  you  like.     And  again " 

She  colored  slightly. 

"Well?" 

"We  can  always  pray  for  help." 

"  Oh,  quite  so,"  I  said  dryly.  "  And  as  we  are  all  very  good 
little  children  we  kneel  down  at  once,  and  feel  very  dutiful;  and  a 
little  bit  ill-used,  but  resigned.  Et  ne  nos  inducas  in  tentationem! 
Is  that  it  ?  "  This  time  she  had  flushed  to  the  roots  of  her  dark 
hair ;  her  eyes  had  a  challenge  in  them,  and  her  lips  were  firmly  set. 

"  I  dare  say  we  don't  do  it,"  she  admitted ;  "  but  neverthe- 
less the  fact  remains.  We  are  told  to  do  so,  and  we  have  the  power 
to  obey  if  we  choose." 

"  I  quite  agree,  only  it  seems  to  be  in  the  very  choosing  that 
the  difficulty  lies." 

"  Is  it  not  because  we  keep  looking  and  looking  at  the  forbidden 
thing?  It  stands  to  reason  that  the  more  we  look  at  it,  the  more 
we  wish  for  it." 

"  Like  that  unfortunate  rabbit  staring  at  the  thyme ;  or 

does  he  smell  it,  do  you  think?  If  I  was  a  rabbit " 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  jest,"  she  said  gently.  "  I  know  very 
well,  of  course,  that  you  think  me  awfully  conceited,  telling  you 
things  that  you  know  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  myself,  only — " 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  I  interrupted. 

(But  she  was  quite  right;  she  had  thoroughly  expressed  my 
mean  bitter  thought  of  the  moment.) 

"  Only,"  she  continued,  with  a  touch  of  resolution,  "  I  am 
nevertheless  certain  that  if  we  would  turn  our  minds  away  from 
what  you  call  thyme  (which  is,  by  the  way,  the  first  thing  prayer 
makes  us  do),  it  would  be  half  the  battle." 

"  I  see,"  said  I,  with  deliberate,  affected  meekness.  "  If,  for 
instance,  when  you  came  here  just  now,  you  had  found  me  battling 
with  a  fierce  temptation;  if  the  intoxicating  sweetness  of  a  very 


\ 


1913.]  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION  79 

special  'thyme'  had  kept  me  from  even  the  wish  to  ask  God's  help,  it 

would  have  been  sufficient  for  you  to  turn  my  thoughts  on 

let  us  say  crabbing,  to  bring  me  figuratively  on  to  my  feet,  ready 
to  look  out  for  nets  and  sticks,  and  to  forget  every  other  attraction." 

She  had  been  studying  me  silently,  a  little  sadly.  When  I 
stopped,  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  of  any  use  talking  to  you  at  present,"  she 

said,  "  you  are  in  a  horrid,  teasing  mood ;  and  besides I  have 

no  business  to  preach  to  you,  have  I? By  the  way,  I  was  pre- 
cisely sent  to  ask  you  to  come  crabbing,  and  pearl  fishing,  per- 
haps. The  tide  is  low,  and  there  seems  to  be  quite  a  number  of 
large  mussels.  Will  you  come  ?  " 

I  looked  at  the  expressive,  slightly  wistful  face,  and  for  an 
instant  I  felt  tempted  to  bend  forward  and  kiss  the  generous  little 
lips ;  but  instead  I  stretched  my  arms  with  affected  laziness. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  could  persuade  me,"  I  said. 

Her  expression  brightened  at  once;  she  stood  up. 

"  Now  you  really  are  getting  good,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  you  know 
what  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  have  you  with  us,  and  remember  that 
in  a  few  days  I  shall  be  gone.  Come;  only  let  me  first  snap  the 
rest  of  the  traps.  I  must  know  that  those  poor  little  creatures 
are  out  of  harm's  way,  or  I  should  feel  absolutely  miserable  about 
them.  Shall  I  give  you  a  hand  ?  " 

She  helped  me  down  from  my  slippery  perch,  and  I  picked  up 
my  jacket. 

"  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  I  am  so  sorry,  dear,  but 
see  what  I  have  done.  It  was  under  my  foot,  you  know." 

She  had  picked  up  a  soiled,  crumpled  piece  of  paper.  I  recog- 
nized it,  but  something  seemed  to  clutch  at  my  throat,  and  I  turned 
away. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  looks  like  a  letter,"  she  continued;  "what  is 
to  be  done  with  it  ?  " 

"Oh! never  mind;  tear  it  in  little  bits,"  I  replied  (my 

voice  sounded  rather  oddly)  ;  "  I  don't  fancy  that that  it  needs 

any  answer." 

Climbing  slowly  through  the  tall  ferns,  I  heard  the  tearing  of 
the  paper;  when  I  turned  again,  I  saw  the  white  fragments  scat- 
tered on  the  warm  summer  breeze. 

*  *  *  * 

A  few  days  later  we  were  standing  in  the  hall  of  the  old  house. 
Her  luggage  was  lifted  on  a  car  below  the  broad  stone  steps;  she 


80  IF  YOUTH  COULD  ONLY  KNOW  [April, 

came  to  me,   her  hat  in  one  hand,   an   autograph  book   in   the 
other. 

"  Please  write  something,"  she  asked,  "  and  the  date." 

When  I  handed  back  the  book,  she' glanced  at  the  writing. 

"  To-day  is  not  the  twenty-ninth,"  she  began,  "it  is " 

But  she  stopped  as  she  read  the  rest:  Et  ne  nos  inducas! 

Our  eyes  met. 

For  a  second  she  hesitated,  then  her  two  arms  slipped  round  my 
neck,  and  I  felt  her  heart  beating  near  mine,  while  I  held  her  close 
to  me 

Neither  of  us  spoke. 

*  *  *  * 

Yesterday  I  came  across  her  Christian  name.  It  means 
"  grace;"  the  " grace  of  God." 


IF  YOUTH  COULD  ONLY  KNOW. 

BY   EMILY    HICKEY. 

IF  Youth  could  only  know! 

If  Age  could  only  do! 
Alas  that  Youth  and  Age, 
Who  are  the  strong,  the  sage, 

Apart  awhile  must  go, 
Imperfect  two. 

O  strong  for  the  world's  need ! 

For  the  world's  need  O  wise ! 
One  day  will  surely  be 
When  perfect  harmony 

Up  to  God's  ear  shall  rise, 
Wisdom  and  deed. 

Yea,  Sapience  then  and  Power 

For  ever  shall  unite; 
When  the  short  Now  is  done, 
And  God's  Forever  won, 

To  make  that  glorious  dower, 
Wisdom  and  Might. 


THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM. 

BY    JOSEPH    FRANCIS    WICKHAM. 

HE  low  murmur  of  a  gentle  voice  comes  out  from 
the  inner  room,  and  the  hush  of  silence  is  over  us 
all,  as  we  stand  expectant  in  the  ante-chamber.  In 
a  moment  across  that  threshold  will  come  the  most 
august  personage  on  earth,  the  Shepherd  of  all 
Christendom.  We  have  ascended  the  broad  marble  stairway  from 
Portone  di  Bronzo,  passing  the  Swiss  Guard  with  the  halberds,  on 
duty  at  the  gateway,  through  the  chamber  beyond  the  anti-camera, 
where  the  Palatine  Guard  is  stationed,  and  finally,  with  the  officers 
of  the  Noble  Guard,  we  are  waiting  in  the  room  next  to  the  cham- 
ber where  His  Holiness  is  now  speaking  in  soft  accents  of  benedic- 
tion. We  have  seen  many  go  by,  on  their  way  to  the  throne  room, 
accompanied  by  the  major-domos  of  the  Papal  court,  a  varied  pro- 
cession of  humanity.  A  bishop  wearing  pectoral  cross,  tall  and 
strongly  featured,  with  an  attendant  monsignor  in  purple,  passes 
in  to  be  received  in  private  council.  A  group  of  missionaries, 
brown-clad,  tonsured,  and  sandal-shod,  their  faces  bronzed  from 
tropic  suns,  hurry  by,  a  group  that  makes  you  think  of  Assisi  and  the 
Poor  Man  of  God  and  his  goodly  company.  Two  madames  of  the 
Sacred  Heart  from  the  convent  at  Trinita  de'  Monti  are  bringing 
in  twenty  little  girls  in  happy  community.  In  double  file,  fair  and 
lovely  in  white  dresses  and  flowing  veils,  the  girls  quietly  march  in, 
all  eagerness  and  all  reverence  for  their  meeting  with  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff. 

In  the  audience  halls,  through  which  we  have  already  ad- 
vanced, there  is  a  throng  of  men  and  women  and  youths,  mostly 
Catholic,  but  not  a  few  of  those  that  walk  in  other  ways.  Every 
Catholic  in  the  world  wishes  to  behold  before  he  dies  the  person  of 
his  spiritual  leader,  firmly  believed  to  be  God's  regent  on  earth; 
and  rare  is  the  Protestant  visiting  the  Eternal  City  who  does  not 
desire  to  enter,  with  deepest  respect,  the  presence  of  him  who  repre- 
sents the  oldest  Christian  institution.  Time  has  been  when  all  the 
world,  the  nations  shoulder  to  shoulder,  would  kneel  at  his  feet 
and  beg  his  blessing.  The  forefathers  of  the  very  Protestants 
that  enter  before  him  were  the  stanchest  friends  of  the  Papacy  in 

VOL.   XCVII. — 6. 


82         THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          [April, 

the  years  of  the  by-gone  centuries ;  and  it  may  be  that  the  Golden 
Age  will  return,  and  their  children  and  their  children's  children 
will  come  back  to  the  old  allegiance,  and  there  will  be  again  one 
fold  under  one  shepherd. 

But  we  are  still  waiting  in  the  ante-chamber.  The  chamber- 
lain holds  the  list  in  his  hand,  and  tells  us  that  we  are  to  see  the 
Holy  Father  in  a  brief  moment.  The  bishop  has  just  passed  out,  his 
countenance  set  in  the  lines  of  a  Crusader  that  has  just  renewed 
his  vows  in  the  presence  of  his  king,  and  is  bade  to  press  on  valiantly, 
since  God  wills  it.  The  Franciscan  priests  have  returned,  a  light 
almost  pentecostal  shining  on  their  faces,  and  seeing  in  their  vis- 
ioning  new  worlds  for  their  holy  conquering.  The  little  girls  with 
the  nuns  are  alone  in  the  Papal  presence.  From  where  we  stand 
we  can  see  the  little  band  kneeling  in  half-circle,  each  carrying  a 
prayer-book  or  a  rosary  beads  or  a  silver  cross  for  the  Pope  to 
bless.  He  is  speaking  to  them  in  Italian,  and  we  can  catch  the  soft 
tones  as  we  stand  there  in  silent  watching.  "  Si,  Santita,"  responds 
trustingly  some  very  tiny  maiden  in  reply  to  a  question  from  the 
kindly  voice.  And  then  in  slightly  louder  accents  comes  his  bless- 
ing, Benedicat  vos  omnipotent  Dens,  Pater  et  Films  et  Spiritus 
Sanctus — and  the  voice  is  still. 

The  chamberlain  is  motioning  us  to  kneel.  We  need  no  second 
bidding — most  of  us  already  are  on  our  knees — and  with  an  awe 
close  akin  to  fear  we  watch  the  open  doorway  through  which  the 
ruler  of  the  mightiest  Church  in  the  world  will  enter.  And  there 
he  appears :  and  that  figure  in  white  is  the  successor  of  the  Prince 
of  the  Apostles,  the  Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth,  the  spiritual  leader 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  Catholics,  Pope  Pius  the  Tenth. 

But  when  your  eyes  rest  on  that  form  slightly  bent,  and  you 
gaze  up  into  that  face  crowned  with  white  hair,  and  look  into  his 
eyes,  there  sweeps  over  you  a  surging  wave  of  unexpected  emotion. 
You  have  forgotten  altogether  that  he  is  a  ruler  of  religion  whose 
every  word  travels  even  to  farthest  distance;  your  only  realization 
is  that  you  are  in  the  presence  of  a  soul  burning  with  intensest  love 
for  God.  If  the  petty  souls  outside  that  write  of  him  whom  they 
have  never  seen,  pen-picturing  him  as  the  implacable  enemy  of  the 
rights  of  mankind,  as  the  reactionary  stifler  of  thought  and  the 
crusher  of  high  aims,  as  the  czar  glorying  in  the  power  of  the 
sceptre,  if  these  had  only  the  boon  of  admission  into  the  presence 
of  Pius  the  Tenth,  a  far  different  portrait  would  they  sketch,  a 
much-changed  judgment  would  they  bear  through  the  future  time. 


1913-]  THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          83 

The  pity  of  it  is  that  they  never  know  that  they  are  libeling  with 
cruelest  sentence  a  man  of  purest  holiness,  if  ever  there  were  holy 
man  on  earth.  You  understand  now  the  trustfulness  of  the  little 
children,  the  wrapt  expression  on  the  brows  of  the  missionaries, 
the  re-kindling  of  knightly  ardor  in  the  bishop.  Any  fear  that 
possessed  you  before  has  been  changed  by  a  mystic  alchemy  into 
a  love  that  will  throb  in  you  all  your  years. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  read  the  soul  of  Pius  the  Tenth  mirrored 
on  the  quiet  face  that  looks  down  on  you.  Goodness,  kindliness, 
sympathy,  humility  are  intermingled  with  most  gracious  dignity  of 
manner.  Goodness — the  goodness  of  one  that  has  loved  purity  and 
truth  from  childhood ;  the  goodness  that  comes  from  gazing  on  the 
Eternal  Hills;  the  goodness  that  comes  from  the  constant  union 
in  the  silent  sanctuary  of  his  soul  with  the  will  of  his  Master — 
this  the  Holy  Father  has  in  rare  measure.  Spirituality  radiates 
from  every  feature,  insistently,  compellingly.  On  his  entrance  to 
the  pontifical  place,  he  announced  his  policy:  to  restore  all  things 
in  Christ.  In  all  his  rescripts  and  encyclicals  this  note  has  sounded, 
clear  and  sustained,  and  even  his  enemies — for  Pius  the  Tenth  has 
enemies,  as  have  all  good  men — have  to  admit  the  sincerity  of 
his  endeavors.  He  imparts  his  benediction  on  non-Catholics  no  less 
earnestly  than  on  those  who  keep  near  to  him  more  intimately,  for 
he  truly  believes  that  God  has  raised  him  to  be  a  common  father 
to  all  men,  and  a  defender  of  their  souls. 

The  piety  of  Pius  the  Tenth  is  not  the  forbidding  kind.  There 
is  a  kindliness  about  him  that  wins  you  instantly.  You  feel  that  in 
his  breast  beats  a  heart  in  touch  with  human  nature  and  human 
needs.  With  an  absolute  certainty  you  know  that  you  are  before 
one  who  understands  you;  who  appreciates  what  heights  of  per- 
fection you  would  fain  reach,  and  how  far  short  you  fall  in  your 
achieving;  who  is  aware  of  your  aspirations  and  your  resolves  and 
your  upward  strivings,  and  the  discouragement  that  mayhap  comes 
in  your  determination  to  battle  on  in  the  fight.  This  sympathy  with 
all  that  you  are  and  would  be,  and  the  unspoken  wish  to  assist  you, 
are  clearly  read  in  his  kindly  eyes,  and  for  this,  if  for  nothing  more, 
your  heart  goes  out  to  him  when  first  you  see  the  gentle,  down- 
drooping  face. 

There  is  a  humility  in  the  personality  of  Pius  bidding  all  to 
remember  that  he  is  fully  aware  of  his  unworthiness  to  represent 
Christ  on  earth.  When  the  conclave  was  in  assembly  in  those 
August  days  nine  years  ago,  and  the  Cardinals  were  balloting  for 


84         THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          [April, 

the  successor  of  Leo  the  Thirteenth,  after  repeated  trials  it  became 
evident  that  the  election  would  fall  upon  the  patriarchal  Arch- 
bishop of  Venice.  With  eyes  dimmed  with  tears,  Cardinal  Sarto 
besought  them  to  cast  their  suffrages  for  someone  else:  he  was 
far  from  worthy  to  be  ambassador  of  God  and  guardian  of  His 
universal  Church.  But  they  knew  him  as  parish  priest,  as  Canon 
of  Treviso,  as  Bishop  of  Mantua,  as  Archbishop  of  Venice;  they 
knew  his  zeal,  his  humility,  his  integrity,  and,  surest  test  of  all,  the 
love  that  the  people  bore  him.  So  they  prevailed;  and  in  the 
Sistine  Chapel  he  was  crowned.  He  is  Supreme  Pontiff,  lord 
spiritual  of  the  world;  but  the  humility  is  still  there  in  all  its  perfect 
flowering,  never  to  pass  away. 

The  Holy  Father  in  a  gracious  manner  extended  his  hand  to 
us,  on  the  fourth  finger  gleaming  the  ring  of  Saint  Peter.  Rever- 
ently we  placed  lips  on  the  golden  signet,  as  he  spoke  his  quiet 
greetings.  For  a  little  while  he  remained  in  conversation,  and  then 
slowly  raised  his  hand  and  pronounced  over  our  bent  heads  his 
benediction.  And  while  the  words  were  still  trembling  in  the  air,  he 
passed  to  the  outer  sala. 

Humility  and  sympathy  and  kindliness  and  goodness  are  in- 
delibly written  on  the  countenance  of  the  figure  that  had  just  been 
present.  But  another  quality  there  is,  which  shares  ascendancy 
with  them.  The  beholder  is  impressed  instantly  with  the  sense  of 
latent  power  in  the  face  of  the  Holy  Father.  His  gentleness  of 
mien  is  genuine,  but  it  is  the  gentleness  of  a  strong  man.  Fire 
could  flash  from  beneath  that  brow,  and  that  quiet  voice  could 
ring  in  tones  of  command.  There  was  never  a  Pope  who  realized 
more  fully  the  responsibilities  and  the  duties  of  the  pontificial  office. 
From  the  very  hour  of  incumbency  it  demands  unwearying  steward- 
ship. Pius  the  Tenth  can  never  idle  and  never  rest  and  never 
wait  a  to-morrow.  For  ever  in  his  ears  are  echoing  the  words 
spoken  in  the  quarters  of  Csesarea  Philippi :  "  Thou  art  Peter, 
and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build  My  Church."  Christ,  the  Son  of 
the  Living  God,  solemnly  uttered  this  declaration  to  a  disciple  con- 
fessing the  divinity :  and  this  word  has  been  the  basis  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Papacy.  Every  Pope  since  that  day  of  pronounce- 
ment has  had  the  intensest  conviction  that  he  is  the  visible  repre- 
sentative of  Christ,  and  that  on  him  lies  the  stupendous  burden  of 
guarding  the  Gospel  from  any  enemy,  and  of  giving  its  truth  to  the 
nations.  This  is  the  explanation  of  the  idea  of  the  Papacy  in  its 
ages-long  wars  and  rumors  of  wars.  There  can  be  no  giving  to 


1913].          THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          85 

Caesar  of  what  belongs  to  God;  there  can  be  no  compromising 
with  error ;  no  lowering  of  any  standard  in  surrender  of  truth. 

And  as  I  was  losing  myself  in  these  thoughts  within  the  peace- 
ful Vatican  walls,  suddenly  in  imagination  I  heard  the  clashing  of 
arms  and  the  tramp  of  soldiers  and  the  notes  of  the  trumpet  call; 
I  saw  the  tossing  of  countless  war  pennons  and  far-flung  lines  of 
battle;  and  as  the  whole  panorama  of  nineteen  centuries  opened 
wide,  in  clearest  of  vision  I  beheld  the  historic  figure  of  the  Papacy. 
I  saw  the  first  Pope  crucified,  head  downward,  on  the  very  Vatican 
hill  where  rises  now  the  great  cathedral.  I  saw  the  reddening  of 
the  white  sands  of  the  Flavian  amphitheatre  as,  one  by  one,  the 
pontiffs  passed  into  martyrdom,  faithful  unto  death.  Thirty  of 
the  first  thirty-one  Popes  wear  martyrs'  palm  because  of  their  be- 
lieving of  the  word  of  the  Nazarene.  I  could  see  in  fancy  the 
terrified  flock  gathered  in  the  secret  recesses  of  the  catacombs,  and 
the  shepherd  standing  on  guard,  encouraging  and  strengthening 
and  keeping  alive  the  sacred  fire  of  their  faith.  The  imperial  city 
might  fling  the  might  of  ten  persecutions  against  the  infant  Church, 
but  the  sleepless  sentinels,  on  duty  for  the  King,  showed  no  fal- 
tering. I  saw  the  measured  lances  of  those  long  centuries  when 
Europe  was  semi-barbaric,  and  the  Popes  fought  with  doughtiest 
vigor  against  barons  and  emperors  for  the  rights  of  God  and  the 
weal  of  the  individual.  I  beheld  the  Papacy,  with  splendid  audacity, 
casting  defiance  into  the  chancellories  of  many  a  state,  forecasting 
well  the  temporal  loss  of  possible  defeat,  but  willing  to  endure  any 
pain  rather  than  be  unfaithful  to  doctrine  that  she  held  was  Gospel. 

Passing  down  the  centuries  I  saw  a  Hildebrand  crossing  swords 
with  a  Henry  the  Fourth  of  Germany;  a  Gregory  the  Ninth  with 
a  King  Frederick;  an  Innocent  the  Third  with  a  Philip  Augustus; 
a  Pius  the  Seventh  with  a  mighty  Napoleon.  And  looking  into 
the  face  of  the  Pope  that  had  just  passed  by,  I  had  seen  the  un- 
mistakable consciousness  that  election  to  the  Papal  place  had  com- 
missioned him  with  a  divinely-spoken  obligation  to  defend  Christ. 
France,  attempting  to  blot  out  the  Light  in  Heaven,  found  in  that 
white-haired  Pontiff  foeman  worthy  of  her  steel.  Concordats 
might  be  broken,  convents  closed,  nuns  exiled :  there  would  be  no 
capitulation.  Better  that  every  cathedral  in  France — Chartres, 
Rheims,  Orleans,  even  mighty  Notre  Dame  of  Paris — be  beaten  flat 
to  the  ground,  with  not  a  stone  left  upon  a  stone,  than  abandon 
truth.  The  City  of  God  will  never  seek  peace  by  selling  her  birth- 
right. 


86        '  THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          [April, 

A  Papal  audience  is  not  merely  the  physical  act  of  being  ad- 
mitted to  the  presence  of  His  Holiness  and  receiving  his  blessing, 
though  it  might  well  stop  there.  Since  Peter  first  took  residence 
in  Rome  there  have  been  pilgrimages  to  the  Eternal  City.  Once  a 
year  the  Mussulman  yearns  toward  Mecca:  never  has  morning 
sun  during  the  nineteen  Christian  centuries  failed  to  discover  some 
faithful  Christians  journeying  toward  the  City  of  the  Popes.  So 
to  have  become  a  member  of  that  great  uncounted  army  of  pilgrims 
who  have  constantly  worn  smooth  the  Roman  roads ;  to  have  been 
admitted  to  that  noble  company  that  includes  kings  and  queens  and 
knights  and  scholars,  tender  maids,  and  gentle  saints  and  sinless 
children,  is  no  unwelcome  distinction.  But  an  audience  with  Pius 
the  Tenth  is  vastly  more  than  that.  It  is  a  coming  into  direct 
communication  with  the  Roman  Papacy,  the  great  agency  of  cul- 
ture that  has  preserved  the  continuity  of  the  civilization  of  Augustus 
with  the  civilization  of  the  present  day. 

If  the  Papacy  had  not  existed,  it  were  an  impossible  task  to 
dream  a  European  history  for  the  last  fifteen  centuries.  When 
the  legions  crumbled,  and  the  Goths  and  Huns  and  Vandals  poured 
like  a  swollen  torrent  into  the  fair  plains  of  Italy,  the  Papacy  was 
the  only  power  that  could  save  civilization  and  the  half -lost  arts 
and  sciences.  The  Popes  gathered  up  the  broken  fragments  of 
civic  institutions  and  literature,  and  treasured  them  for  generations 
yet  unborn.  During  the  long  centuries  of  transition  that  began 
with  Alaric's  entrance  into  Rome,  the  only  unshaken  rock  in  the 
tempest  was  the  Papacy.  Every  condition  was  chaotic;  old  stand- 
ards had  been  swept  away ;  Europe  was  one  great  battlefield.  Com- 
merce was  prostrate;  letters  were  despised;  brigands  were  on 
thrones ;  lawlessness  was  law.  As  time  went  on,  nation  after  nation 
accepted  the  Savior.  Men  who  once  had  hoped  to  be  chosen  of  the 
Valkyries  for  the  golden  halls  of  Valhalla,  were  becoming  allied  in 
allegiance  with  those  whose  forbears  had  sworn  by  Mars  and  Juno. 
Odin  and  Thor  were  abandoned ;  Balder  was  dead  with  Pan.  The 
Rhine-gods  crept  farther  and  farther  back  into  the  deepening  twi- 
light. Pirate  Viking  became  peer  of  France.  But  through  all  this 
seething  sea  of  confusion  the  Canon  Law  of  the  Church  was  being 
disseminated  from  one  end  of  Christendom  to  another,  and  men 
were  obeying  this  body  of  law  which  the  Papacy  had  built  upon 
Roman  legislation  and  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

And  obedience  to  the  law  is  the  essence  of  civilization.  Rude 
peasant  and  rude  lord  alike  heard  the  message  of  the  Gospel,  bidding 


1913].          THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          87 

them  to  chasten  their  passions  and  forget  the  strain  that  was 
calling  in  their  blood.  The  great  monasteries  looking  down  from 
the  beauteous  hillsides  of  Prussia,  and  everywhere  from  the  fjords 
of  Norway  to  the  sunny  Mediterranean  shores,  fostered  in  the  heart 
the  spirit  of  prayer,  and  taught  the  hand  the  art  of  cultivating  the 
soil.  And  these  monastic  foundations  breathed  their  life  and 
claimed  their  being  from  the  Roman  Papacy.  Finally  the  con- 
solidation of  the  monarchies  was  effected,  and  rest  from  war  gave 
leisure  for  higher  things.  Then  the  Papacy  looked  about  her  to 
see  the  fruits  of  her  labor.  The  literature  of  Cicero  and  Horace 
was  safe,  to  be  linked  to  that  of  Dante;  the  old  hard  conditions  of 
slavery  had  been  ameliorated;  the  exigencies  of  poverty  had  been 
met ;  and  the  battle  for  the  high  estate  of  womanhood  and  the  inviol- 
ability of  the  marriage  bond  had  been  fought  and  won  on  a  hundred 
different  fields.  A  new  Rome  had  been  built,  a  new  Italy,  a  new 
Europe. 

In  the  matter  of  education  the  story  of  culture  in  its  relation 
to  the  Papacy  is  as  fascinating  as  romance.  The  schools  attached  to 
the  cathedrals,  and  the  schools  of  the  monasteries,  taught  the  prin- 
ciples of  all  the  sciences.  Men  like  Bede  and  Alcuin  made  thou- 
sands of  young  hearts  grow  warm  in  zeal  for  the  refinements  of 
letters,  and  developed  thousands  of  minds  in  the  training  that  was 
to  guide  them  in  the  varied  experience  of  daily  life.  Education 
was  ever,  indeed,  tenderly  nurtured,  but  the  full  blossoming  of  its 
flower  came  with  the  establishment  of  nigh  two  score  universities 
under  the  confirmation  of  Papal  charter. 

The  Papacy  has  always  been  the  patron  of  the  arts,  and  no  more 
convincing  proof  of  this  may  be  adduced  than  a  study  of  the  Vati- 
can, the  most  wondrous  palace  on  earth.  The  vast  collection  of 
buildings  embraced  under  the  name  of  the  Vatican  palace  was  begun 
by  Pope  Symmachus  in  the  early  sixth  century,  and  completed  in 
the  erection  of  the  Scala  Pia  by  Pius  the  Ninth  of  present  memory. 
Its  chapels,  museums,  library,  and  archives,  from  the  artistic  and 
scientific  viewpoint,  are  priceless  in  the  value  of  their  content. 

The  most  famous  of  the  chapels,  and  that  in  which  all  the  Papal 
ceremonies  and  functions  are  held,  is  the  one  familiarly  known  as 
the  Sistine.  Built  between  1473  and  1481,  it  is  a  gem  of  archi- 
tecture. The  side  walls  from  high  altar  to  entrance  door  were 
decorated  by  Perugino,  Botticelli,  Pinturicchio,  Salviati,  and  Ghir- 
landajo,  among  others.  Mino  da  Fiesole  and  his  assistants  carved 
the  tracery  on  the  marble  barriers  and  balustrade  of  the  choir  box. 


88         THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          [April, 

But  Michelangelo  overshadows  them  all  with  his  ceilings  and  his 
"  Last  Judgment "  that  sweeps  across  the  rear  wall.  Any  of  the 
treasures  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  would  glorify  a  gallery  into  endur- 
ing worth. 

t  But  the  museums  proper  are  no  less  the  delight  of  art  lovers. 
It  is  no  extravagance  to  say  that  were  all  the  other  collections  of 
Europe  destroyed,  the  Papal  museums  would  suffice  for  an  under- 
standing of  the  genius  of  the  ages.  The  Popes  were  the  first  to 
establish  museums,  and  their  work  in  the  perpetuation  of  master- 
pieces gave  incentive  to  all  the  governments  of  the  continent  to  like 
endeavor.  The  Museo  Pio-Clementino,  with  the  "  Laocoon,"  the 
"  Torso  of  Heracles,"  the  "  Barberini  Hera,"  the  "  Hermes,"  the 
"Belvedere  Apollo,"  and  the  finest  "Bust  of  Zeus"  in  existence; 
the  Galleria  Chiaramonti,  with  the  sitting  figure  of  Tiberius  and 
the  "Head  of  Neptune;"  the  Braccio  Nuovo,  with  the  majestic 
statue  of  Augustus  and  the  colossal  reclining  figure  of  "  The  Nile;" 
the  Egyptian  Museum,  with  its  ten  halls  of  statues,  sarcophagi  and 
reliques,  and  its  cases  of  papyrus  manuscripts;  the  Etruscan  Mu- 
seum, with  its  mosaics,  lamps,  and  red-figured  vases;  all  these  are 
known  to  every  visitor  to  the  Vatican. 

The  Pinacoteca  takes  rank  among  the  world  collections  of 
paintings,  not  because  of  the  number  of  subjects,  but  through  the 
merit  of  quality.  Small  wonder  it  is  that  Napoleon  would  con- 
fiscate the  treasures  that  now  hang  on  its  walls;  to  enumerate  the 
artists  represented  would  be  to  call  the  bead-roll  of  the  masters. 
It  is  here  that  one  sees  Raphael's  "  Transfiguration,"  a  work  which 
has  few  rivals  among  the  oil  paintings  of  the  world.  The  Gallery 
of  Modern  Paintings,  more  interesting,  perhaps,  from  the  view- 
point of  religious  values  than  of  art  worth,  tells  the  achievements  of 
the  artists  of  recent  years. 

When  Julius  the  Second  wished  to  adorn  his  suite  on  the 
second  floor  of  the  palace,  he  desired  a  comparatively  simple  decora- 
tion, and  commissioned  five  painters  to  undertake  the  task.  But 
the  architect  Bramante  had  a  nephew  in  Florence  who  was  winning  a 
reputation,  and  persuaded  the  Pope  to  summon  him  to  assist  in  the 
embellishing.  So  it  was  that  Raffaelle  Sanzio  came  to  the  Vatican. 
One  of  the  rooms  was  assigned  to  the  youth,  who  painted  there 
between  1508  and  1511  the  "  Disputa,"  the  "School  of  Athens," 
and  the  "  Parnassus."  Julius  was  in  rapture,  and  when  the  "  Dis- 
puta "  was  completed,  he  entrusted  the  decoration  of  the  entire 
apartment  to  the  new  master.  As  a  result  the  Vatican  possesses 


1913]-          THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          89 

the  incomparable  treasures  of  the  "  Stanze  "  and  the  "  Loggie." 
They  represent,  in  their  brilliant  coloring,  rich  imagination,  strength 
of  line,  and  figure  composition,  the  supremest  expression  of  the 
genius  of  the  great  Florentine.  For  the  inspiration  that  comes 
from  Raphael's  works  in  the  Vatican,  the  artist  has  ever  considered 
the  journey  to  Rome  worth  the  making. 

The  Vatican  palace,  viewed  as  a  scientific  institute,  cannot  be 
surpassed.  Sources  of  the  highest  order,  not  only  in  philosophy 
and  theology,  but  in  history,  jurisprudence,  literature,  philology, 
ethnology,  and  geography,  are  stored  up  in  the  palace,  and  the  fullest 
academic  hospitality  is  afforded  to  investigators.  In  1879  Pope 
Leo  the  Thirteenth  opened  the  doors  of  the  archives  to  the  scholars 
of  the  world,  irrespective  of  religion  and  nationality,  and  every 
facility  for  the  pursuit  of  study  and  research  is  afforded.  There  are 
many  libraries  in  Europe  with  more  printed  books,  some  few  with 
greater  number  of  manuscripts,  but  in  the  importance  of  content 
the  Vatican  ranks  first  among  the  great  libraries  of  the  world.  It 
was  founded  by  the  great  Renaissance  Pope,  Nicholas  the  Fifth,  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  with  the  remains  of  the  imperial  library  of 
fallen  Constantinople  as  a  nucleus,  and  it  represents  his  endeavor 
to  make  the  capital  of  Christendom  the  capital  also  of  classical 
literature,  and  the  centre  of  science  and  art. 

Great  men  have  worn  the  triple  tiara.  In  the  long  line  of  two 
hundred  and  sixty-one  pontiffs,  very  many  of  surpassing  intellectual 
powers,  amounting  often  to  positive  genius,  it  is  difficult  to  deter- 
mine on  figures  that  loom  large  in  Papal  annals.  Gregory  the 
First  is  regarded  as  the  father  of  the  mediaeval  Papacy.  Prefect 
of  the  city  before  his  entrance  into  orders,  a  patrician  by  birth, 
famed  as  the  best  dialectician  in  Rome,  he  brought  to  his  pontificate 
rich  gifts  of  mind  and  heart.  Abbot  of  the  monastery  of  Saint  An- 
drew's, against  his  will  he  was  elected  Pope  in  the  year  590.  Into 
the  space  of  the  fourteen  years  of  his  reign  he  crowded  works 
stupendous  in  their  magnitude.  He  originated  the  simple  popular 
exposition  of  Scripture;  he  reformed  the  liturgy;  he  codified  the 
teachings  of  the  Fathers;  he  believed  in  the  one  entity  of  Church 
and  State;  he  converted  heathendom.  And  perhaps,  when  one 
thinks  of  him  at  this  remote  time,  one  calls  to  mind  first  that  day 
in  the  Forum  when  he  saw  the  blue-eyed  slaves  and  declared  them 
not  angles,  but  angels.  The  world  might  well  mourn  when  Gre- 
gory the  Great  laid  him  down  to  die. 

Four  hundred  and  fifty  years  later  rose  another  Gregory,  the 


go         THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          [April, 

valiant  Hildebrand,  a  monk,  as  was  his  great  predecessor.  Lay 
investiture  and  simony  were  the  two  evils  afflicting  the  Church 
grievously,  and  these  evils  Gregory  the  Seventh  undertook  to  extir- 
pate. It  was  a  long  and  hard  battle,  but  it  was  finally  won.  When 
at  the  last,  the  persecuted  Pontiff,  wearied  and  broken-hearted, 
yielded  up  his  spirit  down  at  Salerno  by  the  sea,  it  was  with  the 
consciousness  that  all  his  life  he  had  fought  iniquity,  had  striven 
to  drive  the  buyers  and  sellers  from  the  temple.  He  did  not  quite 
know,  perhaps,  the  fullness  of  his  triumph. 

Passing  by  Innocent  the  Third,  maker  and  breaker  of  kings, 
ruling  by  legates  and  letters  from  Constantinople  to  England,  whose 
reign  was  lighted  by  the  coming  of  the  gentle  Saint  of  Assisi,  the 
student  of  Papal  history  will  pause  before  the  name  of  the  great 
Pope,  Paul  the  Third,  who  came  to  the  throne  of  the  Fisherman  in 
1534.  Many  wrere  his  acts  in  the  restoration  work  of  this  period 
of  the  religious  revolt  of  the  northern  nations,  but  his  greatest 
accomplishment  was  the  calling  of  the  church  council  in  the  Tyrol- 
ese  town  of  Trent,  where  the  doctrines  of  faith  delivered  to  the 
Apostles  were  discussed  and  formulated.  When  Paul  died  at  the 
age  of  eighty-two,  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  pontificate,  he  was 
entombed  in  the  great  cathedral,  in  the  one  place  most  fitting, 
directly  under  Peter's  chair. 

It  is  such  goodly  traditions  that  the  Popes  of  more  modern 
times  have  received,  such  a  mighty  treasury  of  holy  endeavoring  and 
sainted  courage  in  the  defense  of  morality  and  faith,  and  when  the 
much-loved  Leo  the  Thirteenth  was  no  more,  it  was  this  heritage 
that  he  bequeathed  to  his  successor.  It  is  this  gift  that  Pius  the 
Tenth  will  pass  on,  when  his  gentle  spirit  will  no  more  linger  in 
the  Vatican  halls,  and  his  voice  will  be  a  memory  of  sweet  recalling. 
It  is  this  patrimony  that  he  will  bestow,  pure  and  undefiled,  bright- 
ened by  the  whiteness  of  his  own  blameless  life,  upon  the  Popes  that 
will  be,  in  never-ending  succession,  to  the  end  of  created  things. 

But  now  all  the  voices  that  had  been  speaking  were  silent,  and 
I  was  kneeling  in  the  Papal  chamber  again,  while  His  Holiness,  with 
the  monsignori,  passed  by  to  the  room  where  the  maidens  from 
Trinita  were  waiting  his  return.  It  was  the  noon-time,  and  the 
silvery  tones  of  a  sweet  bell  were  sounding  softly  through  the 
Vatican  stillness,  breathing  the  message  of  the  Angelus  hour.  As 
we  knelt,  we  listened  to  Pius  the  Tenth  recite  the  old,  old  salutation 
first  heard  by  the  maid  of  Nazareth  from  the  lips  of  the  Archangel, 
"  Hail,  full  of  grace."  And  we,  and  the  convent  children,  and  all 


1913]-          THE  SHEPHERD  OF  ALL  CHRISTENDOM          91 

who  were  there,  responded  in  the  prayer  of  the  Church  that  has 
brought  joy  to  millions  of  hearts  since  the  Mother  of  the  Christ 
ascended  to  heaven.  As  we  rose  and  walked  away,  I  wondered  if 
the  humble  Pius  did  not  sometimes  wistfully  yearn  to  stand  near  the 
Piazzetta  in  the  Venice  of  his  heart's  love,  and  listen  to  the  bells 
from  Maria  della  Salute  ringing  across  the  waters  of  the  Grand 
Canal,  or  long  to  watch  the  summer  moon  bathing  in  soft  radiance 
the  massive  campanile  of  San  Marco,  which  stands  in  guard  over 
his  old  cathedral  church. 

Slowly  through  the  halls  we  retraced  our  steps  into  the  open 
air;  again  we  passed  the  Swiss  Guard  dressed  in  ancient  costume, 
and  descended  to  the  great  piazza  in  front  of  Saint  Peter's.  Then  we 
drove  away  from  the  Vatican  hill,  and  into  the  Borgo  Nuovo,  and 
on  past  the  Castel  Sant'  Angelo,  but  the  clatter  from  the  streets 
of  busy  Rome  never  reached  our  ears,  for  we  were  still  dreaming 
of  the  gentle  soul  that  we  had  seen  a  few  brief  minutes  before,  and 
were  thinking  of  the  kindly  light  that  had  shone  in  his  eyes.  For 
precious  are  the  memories  of  sweet  hours  that  human  hearts  cling 
to,  and  golden  the  moments  of  rare  fulfillment  when  one  glimpses 
the  soul's  aspiring;  and  we  held  it  truth  that  of  the  many  bright 
pearls  in  Time's  treasury  of  jewels,  the  purest  was  the  remembrance 
of  the  hour  ago  when  the  Dweller  of  the  Vatican  had  raised  his 
hand  above  us  in  the  grateful  benediction  of  heaven. 


THE  RED  ASCENT. 

BY  ESTHER  W.   NEILL. 

CHAPTER  III. 

HE  Colonel  sat  dozing  before  the  fading  embers  of 
a  fire.  His  wooden  leg,  with  its  neatly  fitting  shoe, 
was  propped  up  on  a  carpet-covered  ottoman.  The 
table  beside  him  held  a  motley  array  of  riding  crops, 
bridles,  dog  collars,  sporting  journals,  and  a  cigar 
box  nearly  empty;  and  the  floor  was  littered  with  newspapers  and 
muddy  riding  boots. 

Betty  walked  noisily  into  the  room.  She  had  long  ago  learned 
the  safest  way  to  wake  the  Colonel.  He  did  not  want  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  had  fallen  into  the  senile  habit  of  sleeping  in  his  chair. 

"  Company,  Colonel,"  she  said.  The  word  held  a  certain 
magic.  "  Hospitality  without  murmuring  "  was  the  only  phrase 
in  the  Bible  with  which  the  Colonel  was  familiar.  He  let  down 
his  wooden  leg,  half  lifting  it  so  that  the  weight  would  not  strain 
the  strappings;  and,  rising,  he  turned  to  welcome  his  unknown 
visitor. 

"Oh,  it's  you?"  he  said,  without  much  warmth  of  feeling, 
holding  out  his  hand.  "  I  thought  you  had  decided  to  give  us  up." 

"  Never,"  said  Richard  clasping  the  old  man  in  his  arms. 
"  I've  come  home  this  time  to  stay." 

"  God  have  mercy,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Another  bear-hug  like 
that  and  you'll  knock  me  off  my  wooden  pins  outright.  If  you 
expect  to  keep  up  your  psalm-singing  here — 

"  Now,  Colonel,"  interrupted  Richard  determinedly  good  hu- 
mored, "  I  never,  by  any  stretch  of  the  imagination,  thought  I  could 
sing.  I've  got  a  voice  like  yours.  It  croaks  like  a  raven's." 

The  old  man  laughed  approvingly.  "  Believe  on  my  soul 
you've  improved.  Poke  up  that  fire,  Betty.  Light  the  lamp. 
Where  are  those  good-for-nothing  niggers  gone?  Dick,  how  you've 
filled  out!  Must  weigh  close  on  to  two-hundred,  and  got  the 
height  to  stand  it.  You  look  like  the  portrait  of  your  grandfather. 
They  tell  me  that  he  was  the  handsomest  man  in  the  United  States 
Senate.  Women  went  wild  over  him;  but  your  grandmother  led 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  93 

him  a  dance.  She  was  the  toast  of  six  counties.  Betty,  child,  call 
Ephram  to  bring  some  wood." 

"  He's  gone,  Colonel.     I  told  you  that  Ephram  had  gone." 

"  Gone  ? — gone  where  ?  " 

"  He  won't  work  when  we  have  no  money  to  pay  him." 

"  Impudence,"  stormed  the  Colonel.  "  What  does  he  expect  ? 
Aren't  the  quarters  comfortable?  Hasn't  he  got  plenty  to  eat  and 
to  drink?  Hasn't  he  stolen  nearly  every  shirt  I  had  to  my  back?  " 

Richard  was  down  on  his  knees  replenishing  the  fire.  "  Seems 
to  me  he's  a  good  riddance,  then,"  he  said,  hoping  to  preserve  the 
calm. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all.  I'd  rather  keep  a  nigger  that  had  a 
good  supply  of  my  shirts  than  hire  another  who  needed  some.  This 
temporary  embarrassment  is  d inconvenient.  Money  seems  es- 
sential since  Abe  Lincoln's  fool  proclamation.  That  bank  failure 
hit  me  pretty  hard,  Dick.  I  had  a  few  outstanding  debts  that  had 
to  be  paid,  and  that  left  me  nothing  at  all.  You  can't  sell  a  crop 
that  isn't  planted.  I  hope  some  of  your  book  learning  will  help 
us  out  of  this  hole." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Tom  Brent  was  terrible,"  said  Betty,  seating  her- 
self on  the  table  and  swinging  her  muddy  boots  in  the  flashing 
firelight. 

"  Betty,"  thundered  the  Colonel,  "  I  told  you  not  to  say  that 


asrain." 


"But  I  think  it,"  she  insisted.  "He  was  president  of  that 
bank,  and  he  ought  to  have  given  us  our  money  first.  Dividing 
the  little  left  over  with  so  many  people  didn't  do  anybody  any  good." 

"  Tom  Brent  is  my  friend,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  He  lost  his 
entire  fortune.  You  don't  understand  business  matters,  Betty,  and 
neither  do  I ;  but  if  Tom  Brent  was  to  start  another  bank  to-morrow, 
I  would  desposit  all  I  had." 

"Not  if  I  could  help  it,"  added  his  daughter.  "  I'm  so  tired 
of  being  poor  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  My  only  party  dress 
is  a  rag.  If  we  could  only  establish  our  claim  to  the  Fielding's  oil 
wells." 

"  What's  that?  "  Rkhard  looked  up  with  some  degree  of  in- 
terest. He  was  lying  outstretched  on  the  dusty  rug  before  the  fire 
as  he  had  so  often  done  when  a  boy.  The  dogs  had  grouped  them- 
selves about  him,  and  he  was  smoothing  their  pliant  backs.  As  the 
fire  brightened,  the  disorder  of  the  room  became  more  apparent,  and 
seemed  to  augment  the  hopelessness  of  his  task. 


94  THE  RED  ASCENT  [April, 

"  It  was  a  steal,"  declared  the  Colonel  emphatically,  propping 
up  his  wooden  leg  once  more ;  "  I've  always  said  so.  The  Fieldings 
are  as  common  as  mud.  Old  Mike  Fielding  was  overseer  on  your 
grandfather's  plantation.  He  says  that  my  father  sold  him  that 
land  in  Texas.  I  say  his  signature  was  a  forgery.  But  since  every- 
body is  dead  we'll  have  to  wait  until  Judgment  Day  to  prove  it." 

"  And  we  may  be  thinking  of  other  things  then,"  said  Richard 
dreamily. 

"  I  reckon  you're  right,"  agreed  the  Colonel  in  a  strangely 
softened  mood.  "  I  reckon  the  recording  angel  doesn't  take  any 
stock  in  oil  wells — a  little  too  inflammable — seem  to  belong  to  the 
other  party."  He  laughed  at  his  own  pleasantry.  He  was  ex- 
periencing a  great  sense  of  relief  in  having  his  son  to  lean  upon, 
but  he  would  not  have  acknowledged  so  much. 

"  The  Fieldings  must  have  been  born  lucky,"  said  Richard. 
"  Striking  oil  in  these  days  is  like  finding  a  gold  mine." 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  Colonel,  his  face  flaming;  "and  it  all 
belongs  to  us.  You  see  I  was  only  seven  when  your  grandfather 
died,  and  mother  never  knew  anything  about  that  Texas  land, 
though  it  seems  she  had  paid  out  a  lot  of  money  hiring  people  to 
scare  off  the  squatters.  After  Appomattox  I  wanted  to  go  there 
and  run  a  ranch  and  breed  racing  stock.  Then  along  comes  old 
Mike  Fielding  with  his  papers  proving  the  land  belongs  to  him. 
Fact  didn't  seem  to  matter  much  then.  They  told  me  it  wasn't 
even  good  grazing  land.  Oil  wasn't  discovered  there  until  about 
ten  years  ago.  Now  young  Mike's  worth  a  million.  He's  come 
back  here  to  live,  because  Texas  is  too  hot  for  him  in  summer. 
He's  buying  coal  mines,  railroads,  and  the  Lord  knows  what.  I 
remember  him  when  he  only  had  one  patched  jacket,  and  wore  his 
trousers  hitched  to  his  suspenders  with  a  tenpenny  nail.  Mother 
was  too  shiftless  to  sew  his  buttons  on.  Now — well  what's  the 
use  of  talking  about  it?  It  makes  me  red-hot  to  think  we  didn't 
have  the  gumption  to  fight  it  out  in  the  courts." 

A  faint  hope  stole  into  Richard's  mind.  "  Is  it  too  late  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"Late!  About  fifty  years  too  late.  Betty,  child,  aren't 
you  going  to  give  us  any  supper  ?  " 

"  Come  on,"  said  Betty,  jumping  down  from  the  table,  "  I  hear 
Aunt  Dinah  bringing  in  the  tea  things  now.  If  Aunt  Dinah  leaves 
us  it  will  be  the  last  straw,  because  I  don't  know  how  to  cook. 
We  would  have  to  live  on  cans." 


.1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  95 

"  Then  we'll  chloroform  Aunt  Dinah,"  laughed  Richard,  "  until 
we  have  some  sort  of  a  crop  planted."  He  offered  the  Colonel  his 
arm,  and  the  Colonel,  putting  aside  his  heavy  hickory  cane,  actually 
smiled  as  he  leaned  upon  the  strength  of  his  son.  Never  before 
in  all  Richard's  life  had  his  father  seemed  to  derive  any  pleasure 
from  his  presence.  As  they  entered  the  dining  room  Richard  gave 
a  sigh  of  relief.  Here  was  a  familiar  place  unchanged.  The  great 
sideboard  glittered  with  well-polished  silver;  the  Colonel's  chair 
and  footstool  were  pulled  out  at  the  well-remembered  angle;  the 
table  was  set  with  care  and  lighted  by  candles  in  antique  silver 
sconces.  Old  Giles,  the  butler,  had  been  dead  many  years,  but  Aunt 
Dinah,  his  wife,  still  lingered;  she  was  indifferent  to  wages;  Mat- 
terson  Hall  was  her  home,  and  she  struggled  bravely  to  keep  up 
the  traditions  of  the  house,  trying  to  deceive  even  herself  as  to  the 
actual  conditions  in  the  impoverished  larder.  When  she  saw  Dick 
she  threw  her  gingham  apron  over  her  head  and  cried  out :  "  Bress 
de  Lord;  Marse  Dick,  Marse  Dick!  De  good  ole  days  hab  come 
agin." 

"  Dinah."  The  Colonel's  shaggy  eyebrows  closed  together 
ominously. 

Dick  held  out  his  hand  to  the  faithful  old  woman.  "  You're 
the  best  cook  in  the  world,"  he  said  fervently.  "  I've  been  to  Paris 
since  I've  seen  you,  and  no  French  chef  can  beat  you." 

Dinah  wiped  her  claw-like  fingers  before  holding  them  out  to 
receive  the  honor  of  a  greeting.  Even  the  Colonel's  beetling  brows 
could  not  repress  her  hysterical  chuckle  of  joy. 

"  I  knowed  you  would  come,"  she  said.  "  You  always  favored 
your  ma,  and  when  folks  wuz  in  trouble  she  was  bound  to  be  thar." 

"Dinah"  the  Colonel  said  again.  He  had  no  patience  with 
anything  that  savored  of  familiarity  with  servants.  Old  Giles, 
who  had  accompanied  him  to  the  war  as  a  body  servant,  had  had 
his  natural  volubility  so  suppressed  during  his  long  years  of  service 
that  he  had  acquired  a  habit  of  silence  equal  to  a  Trappist's. 

Now  Aunt  Dinah  shut  her  lips  resignedly,  and  stood  at  Betty's 
right  hand  waiting  to  pass  the  plates;  the  meal  was  a  simple  one, 
but  skillfully  prepared.  Hash,  an  artful  combination  of  left-overs, 
was  served  on  a  silver  platter  with  a  well-seasoned  gravy,  the  bis- 
cuits were  baked  to  an  appetizing  brown,  the  tea  was  weak,  but  the 
dessert  of  peaches,  canned  last  season,  was  delicious,  and  the  thick 
cream  that  Betty  poured  over  them  made  Richard  forget  for  the 
moment  that  the  days  of  plenty  were  passed. 


96  THE  RED  ASCENT  [April, 

After  supper  was  over,  Betty  retired  to  the  pantry  to  plan  the 
meals  for  the  morrow.  The  last  few  days  had  taxed  Aunt  Dinah's 
intelligence  at  contriving,  and  Richard's  appetite  had  made  the 
problem  more  complex.  The  Colonel  returned  to  the  library,  and, 
taking  a  black  bottle  from  the  shelf  of  the  corner  cupboard,  he 
promptly  began  his  nightly  potations. 

Richard  sat  down  under  the  swinging  lamp,  and  idly  picked  up 
one  of  the  sporting  journals.  It  was  a  pink  paper  full  of  smeary 
black  portraits  of  famous  baseball  players,  and  held  many  important 
items  of  news  of  the  coming  season.  But  Richard  had  no  clear 
idea  of  the  page  in  front  of  him.  He  wras  wondering  what  topic 
would  interest  the  Colonel;  how  he  could  keep  this  tippling  from 
developing  into  a  spree. 

"  I  saw  a  friend  of  yours  to-day,"  he  began  hopefully.  "  You 
remember  Jeb  Jackson  ?  " 

"  No  friend  of  mine,"  snapped  the  Colonel,  holding  his  glass  up 
to  the  light  with  the  approving  eyes  of  a  connoiseur. 

"  He's  a  great  admirer  of  yours." 

"  He's  an  old  idiot,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  He  was  talking  about  war  times." 

"  No  good  talking." 

"  Doesn't  seem  to  be,"  said  Richard  with  a  wan  smile. 

The  Colonel  put  down  his  empty  glass.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  that?"  he  asked. 

"  I  believe  I  was  trying  to  make  myself  agreeable." 

"  Don't  try,"  said  the  Colonel  shortly.  "  I  like  this  hour  to 
myself.  I'll  read  the  paper  and  go  to  bed.  You  go  talk  to  Betty." 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  stay  with  you." 

Two  drinks  had  made  the  Colonel  fretful.  "  I  don't  want  you." 

Dick  put  his  hand  upon  the  long-necked  bottle.  "  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  take  any  more  of  this  to-night,"  he  said  gently. 

"  I'll  take  what  I  please.  If  you  think  you  can  come  home 
and  dictate  to  me  you're  mistaken— I'll  do  what  I  please;  drink 

what  I  please  in  my  own  house,  and  I'll  be  d grateful  if  you  will 

attend  to  your  own  business." 

Richard's  lips  shut  in  a  determined  line.  He  pushed  back  the 
armchair  in  which  he  had  been  seated.  It  jolted  the  table,  and  the 
bottle  was  upset,  sending  a  thin  stream  of  liquor  trickling  to  the 
floor. 

The  Colonel  hastily  set  the  bottle  upright.  That's  d —  careless 
of  you,  Dick,"  he  said,  "  or  perhaps  you  did  it  on  purpose.  Thank 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  97 

the  Lord  the  bottle  was  nearly  empty,  and  I  restocked  my  cellar 
just  before  the  bank  failed.  I  have  some  port,  Dick,  vintage  '53. 
Have  a  drink  and  go  to  bed.  You're  getting  altogether  too  sanc- 
timonious to  suit  me." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Richard.  "  Perhaps  I  had  better  go 
and  talk  to  Betty." 

He  left  the  room  with  an  exaggerated  sense  of  his  own  failure, 
and  going  out  upon  the  front  porch,  which  was  flooded  with  moon- 
light, he  stood  a  moment  in  silent  prayer.  The  old  feeling  that  he 
was  an  alien  in  his  own  home  had  returned  to  him  with  renewed 
force.  The  heavens  stretched  above  him  starless  in  the  white 
moon  rays.  The  noises  of  the  night — that  strange  chorus  of  living- 
things — seemed  to  mock  him  in  his  desolation.  A  fresh  breeze, 
chilled  with  the  dampness  of  the  woods,  sent  him  shivering  close 
to  one  of  the  fluted  columns  of  the  door  to  escape  its  cold  breath. 
He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  for  greater  warmth,  and  finding 
his  rosary,  he  took  it  out  and  began  telling  the  beads. 

The  rosary  was  a  long  one  lacking  all  ornament.  The  big 
beads  had  been  cut  by  some  pious,  unskilled  hand.  It  had  been 
given  to  him  by  an  old  missionary,  who  had  carried  it  on  every 
dangerous  journey  he  had  undertaken,  regarding  it  as  a  companion 
and  comforter  on  his  perilous  way. 

The  missionary,  when  dying,  had  tried  to  explain  something 
of  this  to  Richard,  but  his  voice  had  failed,  and  he  passed  away 
clinging  desperately  to  the  hand  of  his  favorite  student.  The  im- 
print of  his  fingers  upon  the  boy's  hand  seemed  a  last  assertion 
of  a  body  that  had  been  subdued  through  a  lifetime,  a  final  pro- 
test against  absolute  dissolution  from  its  passionless  spirit. 

Betty  came  out  upon  the  porch.  "What  are  you  doing?" 
she  asked. 

He  stopped  his  pacing  to  and  fro.  His  little  sister  seemed 
very  close  to  him  to-night.  "I  was  saying  my  rosary,"  he  answered. 

"What's  that?" 

He  put  the  black  beads  in  her  hand.  "  Did  you  never  see  a 
rosary,  you  little  heretic  ?  "  he  said  affectionately. 

She  examined  the  beads  critically.     "  How  funny." 

"  Funny,"  he  repeated  tolerantly.  "  I  don't  think  so.  Don't 
you  want  me  to  teach  you  how  to  say  them,  too,  Betty,  dear?  " 

"  Indeed  I  don't,"  she  laughed,  "  and  I  wish  you  wouldn't." 

"Wouldn't?     Why?" 

"  I  don't  like  praying  men ;  they  seem  so — so — " 

VOL.   XCVII. — 7. 


98 


THE  RED  ASCENT  [April, 


"What?" 

"  Unnatural." 

"  But,  Betty,  men  have  souls  to  save." 

"  But  most  men  don't  think  about  them." 

"  But  why  shouldn't  they?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

His  face  looked  stern  and  ascetic  in  the  moonlight.  "  Neither 
do  I,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  be  serious,"  she  pleaded,  "  and  please  don't 
pray  on  beads  any  more.  I  don't  like  them,"  and,  as  she  spoke, 
she  flung  the  rosary  over  the  railing  of  the  porch  into  the  tangled 
bushes. 

He  was  angry  and  he  showed  it,  but  the  next  moment  he  had 
gained  control  of  himself.  "  I'll  find  it  in  the  morning,"  he  said 
quietly,  and  turning  he  went  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Richard  was  accustomed  to  rising  early,  but  the  birds  twittering 
on  his  window  sill  roused  him  at  dawn  on  that  first  morning.  As 
soon  as  he  was  up  he  looked  for  water.  Bathing  was  a  bodily 
necessity  to  which  he  had  never  been  indifferent,  but  the  old  blue 
pitcher  on  the  washstand  was  empty.  There  were  no  towels. 
There  had  been  no  blanket  on  his  bed,  and  he  remembered  that  he 
had  been  half -conscious  of  the  cold  all  night.  Betty  had  said  she  was 
not  "  dependable  " — this  first  day  seemed  to  prove  it. 

Slipping  on  an  old  moth-eaten  dressing-gown  that  he  found 
hanging  in  the  big  wardrobe,  he  went  down  stairs  and  brought 
water  from  the  well,  using  one  of  the  starched  pillow  cases  for  a 
towel. 

The  room,  which  had  been  his  as  a  boy,  had  not  been  occupied 
for  a  long  time;  a  gray  dust  lay  thick  on  everything;  a  provident 
little  mouse  had  built  a  nest  out  of  the  feathers  that  had  drifted 
through  a  wide  rip  in  the  bolster  case.  The  nest  had  been  pushed 
up  close  to  the  roller  of  the  washstand  for  greater  strength  and 
safety;  now  the  terrifying  splashing  of  the  water  from  the  wash- 
basin seemed  a  veritable  deluge,  and  the  mother  mouse  went  scurry- 
ing under  the  high  four-poster  seeking  safer  quarters. 

When  Richard  had  finished  his  ablutions,  he  fell  upon  his 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  99 

knees  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  half  hour  of  silent  prayer,  but 
his  meditations  were  distracted.  A  hundred  unaccustomed  tasks 
seemed  waiting  for  him.  He  must  begin  somewhere,  somehow, 
without  delay. 

He  went  first  to  the  stable.  Unbarring  the  door  without 
effort  he  went  in.  The  floor  was  in  a  filthy  condition.  Two  horses 
lifted  their  heads  hungrily  as  the  morning  sunlight  fell  across  their 
stalls.  The  first  one  was  an  old  plug — gaunt,  lean,  rawboned; 
the  other  Richard  remembered  well  was  Spangles,  the  Colonel's 
favorite  mount,  and  the  Colonel's  one  topic  of  conversation  when  he 
had  bought  her  two  years  ago — Spangles,  whose  purchase  Richard 
had  so  resented,  for  the  Colonel  had  paid  for  her  the  price  of  his 
whole  college  course ;  Spangles,  whose  record  on  the  race  track  had 
made  a  whole  county  famous;  Spangles,  whose  strange  name  had 
been  derived  from  the  fact  that  her  jockey  had  chosen  to  ride  in  a 
shirt  glittering  with  tin  tobacco  tags  "  for  luck." 

Now  as  the  horse  raised  her  high-arched  neck  and  looked  at 
Richard,  his  old  resentment  towards  her  was  lost  in  enthusiasm 
for  her  beauty.  Standing  in  the  filth  of  the  poorly- ventilated  stable, 
she  seemed  to  be  appealing  to  him  for  explanation  and  assistance. 

He  led  her  out  into  the  sunshine,  and  then  putting  on  a  pair  of 
mud-stiffened  overalls  that  he  found  on  a  nail  behind  the  door,  he 
began  to  clean  the  stable.  His  real  work  had  begun. 

It  was  a  most  discouraging  day.  Every  place  he  turned  the 
need  of  ready  money  was  so  apparent.  Tools  were  rusty ;  handles 
fell  away.  The  feed  for  the  horses  had  dwindled  to  a  small 
quantity  of  corn;  the  hay  loft  was  empty;  the  roof  of  the  barn 
leaked.  There  were  no  shingles  ready-made,  and  when  Richard 
undertook  to  make  temporary  substitutes,  he  could  find  no  nails, 
no  hammer.  The  Colonel's  head  ached,  and  he  would  not  be 
bothered  with  questions.  The  niggers  knew  where  things  were. 
If  the  niggers  had  gone,  then,  no  doubt,  they  had  taken  everything 
with  them.  He  had  promised  Judge  Armes  that  he  would  ride 
over  and  spend  the  morning  with  him.  The  judge  was  the  logical 
candidate  for  the  United  States  Senate  at  the  next  election.  The 
Colonel  meant  to  make  several  speeches  urging  his  fellow-townsmen 
to  this  viewpoint.  Meanwhile  the  judge  must  be  set  right  on 
several  political  matters.  If  Richard  would  saddle  Spangles  and 
bring  him  to  the  door,  the  Colonel  would  leave  him  to  run  the  farm 
for  the  day. 

Run  the  farm!  when  every  machine  was  clogged  with  rust — • 


100 


THE  RED  ASCENT  [April, 


when  labor  was  reduced  to  one  pair  of  unskilled  hands.  It  would 
seem  easier  to  start  at  the  beginning  and  build  afresh,  than  to  accept 
the  ruin  that  the  deserting  servants  had  wrought;  to  decide  what 
things  were  useable,  what  were  entirely  worthless,  to  know  where 
to  begin,  what  work  was  most  essential.  He  knew  that  it  was  time 
to  plan  for  a  kitchen  garden  to  supply  their  daily  needs,  but  the 
plow  handles  were  broken;  the  horse  half- fed.  There  were  no 
seeds,  even  if  the  plowing  had  been  done.  ^ 

"  Betty,"  he  said  at  lunch  time,  "  we  must  have  some  ready 
money  to  begin.  Don't  you  think  the  Colonel  would  be  willing  to 
sell  Spangles?" 

"  Sell  Spangles ! "  Betty's  cup  fell  from  her  hand,  and  was 
shattered  against  the  edge  of  the  table.  "  Why,  Dick  Matterson, 
he  would  rather  sell  you  or  me." 

"  I'm  sure  he  would  rather  sell  me,"  said  Richard  with  a 
resigned  smile,  "  but  since  I  am  not  saleable,  and  since  we  must  sell 
something,  perhaps  we  could  mortgage  the  house." 

"  The  house !  Why  it's  already  mortgaged,  and  the  interest 
falls  due  next  month.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that." 

"How  much?" 

"  Oh,  about  three  or  four  hundred  dollars." 

"  It's  worse  than  I  thought,"  he  said,  "  and  the  Colonel  won't 
sell  Spangles?" 

"  Ask  him." 

"Have  you?" 

"  Once.  He  didn't  speak  to  me  for  a  week,  and  when  he  did 
speak — well,  I  was  sorry  he  had  spoken." 

"  He  has  wine  in  the  cellar." 

"  Not  much." 

"  Too  much  I  guess." 

"Not  enough  to  sell." 

"  Then  let's  sell  the  silver." 

"  That  belongs  to  you,"  said  Betty. 

"To  me?" 

"It  was  grandmother's,  and  she  left  it  to  you.  You  were 
the  last  representative  of  the  name." 

"  Then  we'll  sell  it." 

"How?" 

"  I'll  advertise  it  in  some  of  the  big  city  papers.  Why,  Betty, 
child,  some  women  grow  fanatical  over  antiques.  I  was  coaching  a 
boy  some  years  ago  whose  mother  kept  us  running  to  all  kinds  of 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  101 

junk  shops  in  Europe  looking  up  platters  and  pots.  She  got  me  to 
study  up  the  history  of  some  of  the  old  silversmiths.  I — I  believe 
these  are  very  valuable." 

He  was  standing  at  the  old  sideboard  examining  the  Matterson 
heirlooms  that  Dinah  had  polished  every  week  for  years.  It  had 
been  old  Giles'  work,  and  his  faithful  spouse  felt  that  this  continua- 
tion of  his  labors  preserved  her  in  some  occult  way  from  his 
"  haunt,"  which  she  feared  would  return  to  upbraid  her  if  she 
failed  in  any  of  his  more  conspicuous  duties. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Jefferson  Wilcox,  seated  in  his  new 
ornate  office,  saw  an  advertisement  that  attracted  his  attention. 
He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  reading  advertisements;  but  this  morn- 
ing he  felt  particularly  idle.  Having  exhausted  the  sporting  page 
and  the  political  news,  he  started  reading  the  miscellaneous  column, 
wondering  at  the  strange  things  that  people  offer  for  sale — old 
magazines,  shoes,  half-worn  evening  dress,  baby  carriage,  canaries, 
rubber  plant,  antique  silver.  The  initials  R.  M.  and  the  post 
office  address  made  Jefferson  suspect  at  once.  He  pushed  the  ivory 
button  on  his  desk  for  his  stenographer. 

She  came  patting  her  elaborate  coiffure  with  that  unmistakable 
feminine  gesture  born  of  fear  that  false  puffs  may  fall  away;  she 
was  chewing  gum,  and  that  fact,  added  to  her  general  look  of 
stolidity,  made  even  that  optimist  Jefferson  Wilcox  pause  before 
addressing  her.  Heretofore  he  had  not  demanded  a  vast  intel- 
ligence from  his  secretary.  He  had  engaged  her  because  she  had 
been  his  first  applicant,  and  because  it  had  been  the  easiest  and  most 
obvious  way  of  terminating  the  interview. 

"Didn't  you  ring?"  she  asked,  storing  her  gum  somewhere 
above  her  front  teeth  so  that  her  jaw  projected. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jeff.  "  Sit  down,  please."  He  had  been  well 
trained  in  small  acts  of  courtesy,  and  his  little  stenographer,  who 
was  unused  to  deference  of  any  sort,  could  not  quite  understand 
him.  Sometimes  she  vaguely  hoped  that  his  politeness  predicted 
a  lively  interest  in  her.  She  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  write  "  Mrs. 
Jefferson  Wilcox  "  several  times  on  her  typewriter,  just  to  see  how 
it  looked.  The  spasmodic  work  of  her  employer  left  her  much 
time  for  dreaming. 

"  I  want  to  write  a  letter,"  said  Jeff,  "  and  I  want  you  to  sign 
your  name  to  it.  You — you  see  I  want  to  answer  an  advertisement." 

"  What  kind?  "  said  the  girl  suspiciously. 


102 


THE  RED  ASCENT  [April, 


"  This  kind,"  said  Jeff,  handing  over  the  paper. 

"  Half-worn  evening  dress,"  read  the  girl  incredulously. 

"  No,  Lord,  no !  This — antique  silver.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  silver,  do  you?  " 

The  girl's  face  grew  pathetic.     "  Never  had  any,"  she  said. 

"  But  you  can  inquire  about  some,"  said  Jeff  hopefully.  "  I 
want  to  buy  some — antiques  you  know,  the  kind  this  person  has  for 
sale.  I'll  pay  any  price.  Fact  is  I  want  to  pay  a  big  price.  If  a 
person  were  buying  antiques,  what  kind  would  be  most  expensive  ?  " 

She  stared  at  him  in  bewilderment.  The  frugality  of  her  life 
made  his  announcement  seem  preposterous.  "Why  should  you  want 
to  pay  such  a  lot?  Are — are  you  going  to  be  married?  " 

"  Lord,  no,"  said  Jefferson,  "  I've  done  many  a  fool  thing  in 
my  life,  but  that's  not  one  of  them.  You  write  me  the  letter  and 
sign  it." 

"But  what  shall  I  say?" 

His  broad  tolerance  encouraged  this  confession  of  incom- 
petence. 

"  Say?  Can't  you  work  it  out?  What  do  you  women  want 
when  you  buy  silver  ?  " 

She  sucked  the  rubber  on  her  pencil  meditatively.  "  Coffee 
pots  I  reckon,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  That's  it,  but  you  call  them  urns.  Urns,  tea  service,  platters, 
waiters,  everything  he  has  for  sale." 

"  You're  going  to  buy  them  without  seeing  them  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  see  them  when  they  are  a  thousand  miles  away  ?  " 

"  But  how  will  you  know  they  are  genuine  ?  "  she  cautiously 
suggested. 

"  I  won't  know  it.  Yes  I  will  know  it — if — if  Dick  is  adver- 
tising them  as  solid,  they  will  be  as  heavy  as  bricks." 

"  Is — is  he  a  friend  of  yours?  " 

"  His  initials  sound  like  it." 

"  And  you  don't  want  to  sign  your  name." 

Jefferson  was  losing  patience.  After  all  there  are  some  rudi- 
mentary qualities  that  a  private  secretary  ought  to  possess.  He 
turned  in  his  revolving  chair.  "  No,  I  said  no.  If  you  can't 
write  a  short  note  of  inquiry,  what  can  you  do?  " 

"  I  can — I  can,"  she  said  nervously  bending  over  her  notebook, 
"  but — but  you  must  acknowledge  that  this  is  not  quite  usual." 

"  Of  course  it's  not,"  he  agreed,  relenting  a  little  as  he  saw  the 
girl's  eyes  fill.  "  Men  don't  buy  silver  every  day.  Why  should 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  103 

they?  Stock  up  once  in  a  lifetime  and  pass  it  on  to  your  grand- 
children." 

"  And  if  this  R.  M.  is  your  friend?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  or  not." 

"  Couldn't  he — wouldn't  he  let  you  look  at  the  silver  before 
you  bought  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  look  at  it.  I  tell  you  I  don't  want  my  best 
friend's  ancestral  forks  and  spoons  lying  around  taking  my  appetite 
away." 

"  But  if  he's  your  best  friend."  ,       H  '.  f 

"  I  tell  you  he  wouldn't  sell  it  to  me."  '••   :  ;  *  n  ,t 

Her  eyes  widened :  "  Why  not?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why — because  he  would  know  I  didn't  want  it." 

She  turned  to  her  notebook  again  with  a  puzzled  frown.  It 
was  all  incomprehensible  to  her.  She  had  lived  always  in  a  world 
which  could  not  afford  to  cultivate  its  keener  sensibilities.  Col- 
lectors, installment  men,  loan  sharks,  broke  down  all  proud ful  bar- 
riers. Pianos  came  and  went  in  her  neighborhood  with  magical 
rapidity;  rugs  were  whisked  off  dusty  floors  and  resold  to  more 
prosperous  neighbors;  men  bargained  and  wrangled  and  parted 
with  their  possessions  openly,  and  when  there  were  no  possessions 
left,  friends  and  relatives  came  forward  and  fed  and  clothed  and 
housed  them  with  that  generous  improvidence  that  keeps  them 
forever  poor. 

The  letter  was  at  last  finished,  and  she  brought  it  to  Jefferson 
for  inspection. 

"  Won't  do,"  he  said.     "  It  sounds  like  a  fake." 

"  Well  it  is  one,"  she  said  defensively. 

Jefferson  ran  his  long  fingers  through  his  yellow  hair.  "  Here, 
give  me  another  pen,  I'll  see  what  my  imagination  is  worth. 
Suppose  that  I'm  a  rich  woman  with  a  passion  for  antiques.  Hand 
me  that  encyclopaedia,  and  I'll  trump  up  the  names  of  some  old 
silversmiths  that  will  put  Dick  off  my  track.  I  am  particularly 
anxious  to  buy  an  urn  for  my  daughter's  debut,  also  a  silver  platter 
— gravy  dish.  Jove!  that  won't  do.  They  don't  serve  gravy  at 
afternoon  teas,  but  they  do  have  plates — silver  plates.  Let  me  see 
—I  am  desirous  of  purchasing  any  odd  pieces  that  will  decorate  a 
table.  Send  description  and  prices  to — '  He  pushed  the  paper 
from  him,  exhausted  by  his  efforts.  "  I'm  afraid  Dick  Matterson 
would  call  that  a  lie,"  he  said. 

[TO  BE  CONTINUED.] 


IRew  Boohs. 

THE   NEW   TESTAMENT   MANUSCRIPTS   IN    THE   FREER 
COLLECTION.     Part  I.     The  Washington  Manuscript  of  the 
Four  Gospels  (with  five  plates).     By  Henry  A.  Sanders,  Uni- 
versity of  Michigan.    New  York:    The  Macmillan  Co.    $2.00. 
There  is  no  field  of  investigation  that  requires  such  an  unusual 
amount  of  labor  and  patience  as  does  the  search  after  the  original 
text  of  the  Bible.     The  number  of  the  existing  old  biblical  manu- 
scripts goes  into  the  thousands,  and  the  number  of  the  variants, 
for  the  New  Testament  alone,  has  been  judged  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand.     Only  a  comparatively  small  part  of  this  vast  mass 
of  material  has  been  thoroughly  sifted,  compared,  and  classified. 
It  is  likewise  well-known  that  the  older  Latin,  Syriac,  Coptic,  etc., 
versions  are  often  witnesses  to  forms  of  the  text  that  antedate  our 
oldest   existing    Greek   manuscripts.      However,    the    few    Greek 
uncials  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  are  the  most  precious 
witnesses  that  we  possess. 

In  1906  another  fourth-century  Greek  Bible  came  to  light  in 
Egypt,  the  land  where  archaeologists  and  enterprising  Arabs  are 
busy  unburying  from  the  conserving  desert  sands  the  relics  of  a 
past  age.  The  find  consisted  in  the  books  of  Psalter,  Deuteronomy 
and  Joshua,  the  Four  Gospels,  and  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul. 
These  four  manuscripts  were  purchased  by  Mr.  Charles  L.  Freer, 
of  Detroit,  Michigan,  and  will  eventually  be  deposited  in  the  Smith- 
sonian Institution  in  Washington,  D.  C.  They  have  since  their 
appearance  raised  a  great  deal  of  discussion  and  curiosity  among 
experts.  The  delay  in  the  appearance  of  the  present  publication 
was  necessitated,  according  to  the  explanation  in  the  preface,  by 
the  need  of  acquiring  a  working  knowledge  of  Syriac,  Coptic,  and 
Gothic. 

Professor  Sanders  gives  a  very  careful  and  detailed  description 
of  the  palaeography  of  the  MS.  He  dates  it  as  belonging  to  the 
fourth  or  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century.  Its  Egyptian  origin 
and  its  early  date  he  finds  confirmed  by  characteristics  which  are 
parallel  to  those  of  the  early  papyri  and  the  oldest  uncials  of 
Egyptian  origin.  The  order  of  the  Gospels  is  that  known  as  the 
Western:  Matthew,  John,  Luke,  Mark.  The  main  object  of  the 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  105 

present  publication  is  to  solve  the  text-problem  of  the  MS.,  and  to 
learn  the  degree  of  its  relationship  to  other  MSS.  Six  to  eight 
separate  parts,  or  rather  sources,  from  which  these  parts  were  copied 
are  distinguished.  Two  of  these  parent-manuscripts  had  been  pre- 
viously corrected  to  agree  with  the  Antioch  recension,  two  with  the 
Hesychian  recension,  one  came  from  a  Greek-Latin  bilingual  of 
Northern  Africa,  and  one  from  a  trilingual  with  decided  Latin, 
Syriac,  and  less  Coptic  tendencies.  In  a  number  of  passages  where 
the  Washington  MS.  stands  almost  alone  with  its  readings,  these 
find  their  only  support  in  Scriptural  quotations  of  the  early  Church 
Fathers,  especially  in  Clement  of  Alexandria  and  Origen.  All  the 
variants  of  the  MS.  are  given  in  a  collation  (of  over  one  hundred 
pages)  which  is  based  upon  the  Oxford  1880  edition  of  the  textus 
receptus. 

The  origin  and  history  of  the  MS.,  as  it  is  given  by  Professor 
Sanders,  rests  on  slender  evidence.  The  Arabs  who  found  the 
MSS.  had  told  conflicting  stories  about  the  place  of  their  discovery, 
in  order  to  lead  astray  the  foreign  excavators,  and  to  retain  for 
themselves  the  exploitation  of  what  is  to  them  a  valuable  mine. 
A  little  prayer  at  the  end  of  the  MS. :  "  Holy  Christ,  be  Thou 
with  Thy  servant  Timothy  and  all  of  his,"  is  the  only  internal 
evidence.  The  name  "  Timothy  "  here  is  a  later  addition,  written 
with  a  different  ink,  and  upon  an  erasure.  Professor  Sanders  sees 
in  this  Timothy  the  head  of  a  monastery.  In  Abu  Salih's  treatise 
on  The  Churches  and  Monasteries  of  Egypt,  only  one  church  of 
Timothy  is  mentioned.  It  stood  in  the  Monastery  of  the  Vine- 
dresser near  Gizeh,  and  was  burned  together  with  it  by  the  Melchites 
probably  in  the  fifth  or  early  sixth  century. 

Professor  Sanders  intimates  that  the  investigations  which  are 
carried  on  at  the  present  time,  in  order  to  determine  the  exact 
spot  where  the  MSS.  were  found,  have  met  with  success.  The 
result  of  the  investigations  will  be  published  in  time,  and  it  remains 
to  be  seen  in  how  far  the  author's  opinion  about  the  history  and 
early  date  of  the  MSS.  will  prove  to  be  correct. 

MISHNAH;  A  DIGEST  OF  THE  BASIC  PRINCIPLES  OF  THE 
EARLY  JEWISH  JURISPRUDENCE.     Translated  and  An- 
notated by  Hyman  E.  Goldin,  LL.B.     New  York:   G.  P.  Put- 
nam's Sons.     $1.50. 
The  "  Fourth  Order  "  of  the  Mishna  contains  the  civil  and 

criminal  law  of  the  Hebre^.vs.     It  is  that  portion  of  Jewish  legal 


I06  NEW  BOOKS  [April, 

literature  which  is  of  most  interest  to  the  student  of  comparative 
jurisprudence.  This  present  volume  contains  only  one  of  the  ten 
treatises  of  the  Fourth  Section.  It  treats  of  laws  concerning  found 
property  (Deut.  xxii.  1-4);  concerning  bailments  (Exod.  xxii. 
6-14) ;  concerning  bargains  and  sales  (Lev.  xv.  14)  ;  usury  and 
usurious  contracts  (Exod.  xxii.  24-26;  Lev.  xxv.  35-37)  ;  hiring  and 
renting.  The  work  presents  an  important  phase  of  the  cultural 
and  social  life  of  the  Jewish  nation  during  the  first  centuries  of  our 
Christian  era.  While  a  reader,  who  is  unacquainted  with  the  term- 
inology and  legal  antiquities  of  the  Jews,  may  find  it  difficult  to 
appreciate  the  existing  translations  of  the  Talmud  on  account  of 
the  great  amount  of  disturbing  and  bewildering  by  work  and  long 
digressions  from  the  main  subject,  the  present  author  has  given 
us  a  work  which  sets  forth  the  principles  of  the  Jewish  law  clearly 
and  in  the  terms  of  our  modern  common  law  language. 

WITH  THE  VICTORIOUS  BULGARIANS.     By  Lieutenant  Her- 

menegild  Wagner.     Boston:    Houghton,   MifHin   Co.     $3.00 

net. 

No  great  war  for  a  long  time  has  been  waged  so  secretly  as 
has  been  that  which  the  Allied  States  of  the  Balkans  have  carried 
on  against  Turkey.  On  its  outbreak  scores  of  newspaper  corre- 
spondents betook  themselves  to  the  seat  of  action,  but  were  all  turned 
back  by  the  Bulgarians,  with  a  single  exception.  That  exception 
is  the  author  of  the  present  volume,  who  was  the  correspondent  of 
the  Reichspost,  a  newspaper  published  in  Vienna,  and  of  the  Lon- 
don Daily  Mail.  During  the  first  campaign  the  world  was  indebted 
to  him  alone  for  all  of  the  first-hand  news  which  it  received  con- 
cerning the  operations  of  the  Bulgarian  Army.  The  Turks  were 
more  considerate,  and  several  correspondents  were  allowed  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  front. 

This  volume  is  not  a  mere  reprint  of  the  letters  written  by 
Lieutenant  Wagner,  but  an  amplification  of  the  letters  re-arranged 
in  the  form  of  chapters,  with  corrections  and  various  additions,  deal- 
ing with  the  events  which  led  up  to  the  war.  Little  light,  however,  is 
thrown  upon  the  exact  way  in  which  the  Balkan  League  was 
formed.  A  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  history  of  the  Bulgarian 
people.  The  Premier  of  Bulgaria  furnishes  a  brief  introduction. 
Forty-five  illustrations  and  portraits  add  to  the  interest  of  the 
narrative,  while  six  maps  enable  the  reader  to  follow  the  details  of 
the  battles. 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  107 

THE  "SUMMA  THEOLOGICA"  OF  ST.  THOMAS  AQUINAS. 

Part  I.     Translated  by  the  Fathers  of  the  English  Dominican 

Province.     New  York:   Benziger  Brothers. 

At  a  time  when  empiricism  is  a  dominant  philosophy,  when 
agnosticism  is  trying  to  take  the  place  of  faith,  it  is  but  suitable  that 
the  English-speaking  world  should  be  made  to  hear  the  metaphysics, 
the  theology,  and  the  common  sense  of  St.  Thomas  of  Aquin. 
Nowhere  in  the  literature  of  the  past  can  a  better  antidote  to  the 
poisonous  errors  of  the  day  be  sought  than  in  the  theological  master- 
piece of  a  master  mind — the  Summa  of  Theology.  All  that  was 
best  in  the  great  philosophies  of  paganism  was  distilled  into  the 
great  work  that  is  being  translated  through  the  generous  pains 
of  the  Dominican  Fathers.  With  the  ancient  philosophers  St. 
Thomas  was  intimately  acquainted,  and  he  sifted  their  writings; 
he  eliminated  their  errors;  and  the  quintessence  of  their  truthful 
contributions  to  knowledge  he  made  his  own.  In  this  way  the 
genius  of  Socrates,  of  Plato,  and  of  Aristotle,  especially  of  Aristotle, 
the  master  mind  of  antiquity,  is  latent  in  the  pregnant  sentences 
of  the  Summa.  Not  alone  profane  knowledge,  but  also  sacred 
tradition  is  accumulated  in  his  works.  To  read  him  is  to  read 
all  the  Fathers.  For  to  Jerome,  the  giant  of  Scriptural  erudition, 
to  Augustine,  the  Doctor  of  grace,  to  the  gold-tongued  eloquence 
of  Chrysostom,  to  Ambrose  of  Milan,  and  to  the  two  great  Greg- 
ories,  as  well  as  to  the  other  Fathers,  St.  Thomas  made  himself 
a  debtor. 

All  this  gigantic  erudition  is  couched  in  a  style  equally  remark- 
able. The  style  of  St.  Thomas  is  distinguished  by  a  manifold 
brevity,  and  its  qualities  will  be  seen  in  the  valuable  English 
translation.  There  is  a  brevity  in  his  word,  in  his  phrase,  in  his 
paragraphs,  in  his  article.  All  this  goes  to  show  that  St.  Thomas 
was  a  master  stylist  as  well  as  a  master  thinker.  In  this  respect 
of  simplicity  of  language,  in  the  choice  of  the  smallest  word,  he 
resembles  Shakespeare;  and  by  reason  of  this  characteristic  St. 
Thomas  is  clearer  than  his  commentators.  The  polysyllabic  phil- 
osophers of  the  present  day  may  here  learn  a  valuable  lesson — those 
who  give  the  impression  that  "  clear  "  and  "  non-scientific  "  must  be 
synonymous  terms.  Indeed  it  is  not  the  leaders  of  science,  but 
the  camp  followers;  not  the  great  scholars,  but  the  little  sciolists, 
that  befog  minds  with  their  obscure  words,  the  offspring  of  obscure 
thoughts. 

Nor  must  it  be  believed  that  St.  Thomas  is  too  conservative 


io8  NEW  BOOKS  [April, 

a  mind  for  these  progressive  days.  St.  Thomas,  indeed,  is  old  at 
present,  but  in  his  own  day  he  had  a  startling,  yet  always  a  safe, 
novelty.  His  biographer  tells  us  that  he  introduced  new  articles, 
new  reasons,  and  new  solutions  for  old  doubts.  He  was  the  wise 
householder  of  the  Faith,  who  drew  forth  from  the  treasure  house 
of  experience  and  revelation  new  and  old  things.  How  they  can 
be  done  successfully,  and  not  disastrously,  as  in  recent  times,  can 
best  be  learned  from  the  science  and  sanctity  of  St.  Thomas.  The 
placing  of  such  a  model  before  a  wider  public  will,  we  hope,  be  met 
with  encouragement  and  blessed  with  results. 

A  TEXTBOOK  IN  THE  HISTORY  OF  MODERN  ELEMEN- 
TARY EDUCATION.  By  Samuel  Chester  Parker.  Boston: 
Ginn&Co.  $1.50. 

In  this  book  of  some  five  hundred  pages,  Professor  Parker 
places  emphasis  on  the  part  played  by  the  Church  and  religion  in  the 
development  of  our  modern  elementary  schools. 

After  a  short  introduction,  the  other  parts  of  the  work  are 
entitled  respectively:  Elementary  Schools  on  a  Religious  Basis, 
Transition  to  Secular  Basis  for  Elementary  Education,  and,  finally, 
Secularized  Elementary  Education. 

The  author  points  out  that  the  Church  enjoyed  a  practical 
monopoly  of  education  during  the  Middle  Ages,  but  is  careful  to 
show  that  she  did  not  check  the  founding  of  schools  under  lay 
control  which  communities  thought  essential.  Sometimes,  it  is 
true,  the  local  cathedral  authorities  did  oppose  the  efforts  to  es- 
tablish independent  vernacular  schools,  but  when  the  cities  appealed 
to  the  Pope  they  received  the  requisite  permission. 

While  it  is  stated  that  the  Protestant  Reformation  introduced  a 
new  basis  for  elementary  vernacular  education,  namely,  the  neces- 
sity of  personal  study  of  the  Scriptures  in  order  to  secure  salvation, 
yet  attention  is  called  to  the  fact  that  in  Protestant  Germany  there 
was  no  great  immediate  increase  in  the  provision  for  elementary 
schools,  while  in  England  neither  Church  nor  State  made  any  ex- 
tensive provision  for  elementary  schools  until  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. 

In  common  with  most  educational  historians,  the  author  is 
probably  unaware  of  the  vast  system  of  Catholic  parish  schools 
which  js  being  maintained  at  the  present  time  in  the  United  States. 

Due  attention  is  paid  to  descriptions  of  social  conditions,  state- 
ments of  educational  theory,  and  descriptions  of  school  practice. 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  109 

While  the  works  of  educational  theorists  are  considered  at  length, 
the  author  is  careful  to  estimate  the  extent  of  their  influence  on  the 
schools.  The  one  man  whom  he  emphasizes  as  the  fountain  head 
of  our  modern  educational  theory,  and  to  some  extent  our  practice, 
is  Rousseau.  Rousseau  gathered  in  himself  the  results  of  the  work 
of  Locke  and  other  innovators,  and  to  him  may  be  traced  the  larger 
parts  of  the  streams  of  thought  which  found  expression  in  Basedow, 
Pestalozzi,  Herbart,  Froebel,  Col.  Parker,  and  which  to-day  char- 
acterizes much  of  the  work  of  Professor  Dewey. 

Professor  Parker  notes  the  present  unrest  in  educational  circles, 
and  believes  that  the  next  quarter  of  a  century  will  see  the  follow- 
ing factors  effectually  provided  for  in  the  ordinary  elementary 
schools : 

1.  .The  introduction  into  the  elementary  school  of  industrial 
and  prevocational  courses,  organized  as  definite  preparation  for 
specific  vocations. 

2.  The  endeavor  to  organize  effective  moral  and  civic  instruc- 
tion. 

3.  The  provision  made  for  varying  instruction  so  as  to  meet 
the  varying  needs  of  pupils  that  are  due  to  individual  differences 
in  capacities,  in  economic  status,  and  in  plans  for  a  career. 

4.  The  tendency  to  measure  accurately  the  results  of  instruc- 
tion by  precise,  objective,  scientific  methods  as  a  means  of  testing 
its  value,  instead  of  relying  on  the  vague  and  unproved  opinions 
of  theorists  or  of  untrained  observers. 

The  work  is  an  excellent  one.  It  is  well  written,  the  matter 
is  well  selected,  and  for  the  most  part  is  treated  in  an  impartial 
manner.  It  is  hoped  that  in  future  editions  the  term  "  Popery  " 
on  page  124  will  be  omitted. 

UP  IN  ARDMUIRLAND.     By  Rev.  Michael  Barrett,  O.S.B.     New 

York:  Benziger  Brothers.     $1.25. 

All  our  novels,  short  stories,  and  plays  that  deal  with  Scotland 
are  so  predominantly  Protestant  in  tone,  that  we  are  glad  to 
welcome  these  sketches  of  Father  Barrett  that  open  up  to  us  the 
life  of  a  Catholic  Scottish  village. 

These  short  stories  are  full  of  humor  and  pathos,  and  point 
a  moral  without  being  prosy  or  tiresome.  "  Dominie  Dick  "  tells 
us  about  the  old-fashioned  schoolmaster  who  did  not  scruple  occa- 
sionally "  to  break  a  slate  on  a  laddie's  heid ;"  "  Smugglers  "  de- 
scribes a  gauger's  search  for  an  illicit  still  and  his  absolute  discom- 


no 


NEW  BOOKS  [April, 


fiture ;  "  A  Rustic  Pastor  "  portrays  the  stern  austerity  of  the  old 
type  country  priest.  The  best  stories  in  the  book  are  those  which 
tell  of  the  life-long  repentance  of  Archie,  and  the  sad  marriage 
experience  of  Penny. 

The  author  is  new  to  us.  but  his  work  shows  nothing  of  the 
novice's  hand.  We  trust  this,  his  first  book,  will  not  be  his  last. 

THIS,  THAT,  AND   THE   OTHER.     By   Hilaire  Belloc.     New 

York:  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.     $1.25  net. 

That  generous  Mr.  Belloc  has  given  us  another  book.  The 
Green  Overcoat,  which,  plus  Mr.  Chesterton's  unholy  illustrations, 
was  a  double  joy,  has  probably  only  just  been  returned  by  your  third 
or  fourth  borrowing  friend.  And,  behold,  here  is  another  little  joy 
dropped  from  the  knees  of  the  gods.  This,  That,  and  the  Other  is 
the  name  of  it,  and  it  certainly  is  good.  If  its  author  were  not 
Mr.  Chesterton's  chum,  we  might  venture  to  call  it  brilliant.  We 
have  no  hesitation  in  predicting  (to  use  a  journalese  phrase  that 
Mr.  Max  Beerbohm  would  pounce  upon  with  fiendish  glee!)  that 
you  will  grin  over  it  from  cover  to  cover. 

You  will  certainly  chuckle  over  the  paper  on  "  Omens,"  which 
points  out  the  superiority  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind  in  explaining 
them  as  coincidences.  But  alas !  "  That  which  the  enlightened 
person  easily  discovers  to  be  a  coincidence,  the  Native,  that  is, 
the  person  living  in  a  place,  thinks  to  be  in  some  way  due  to  a 
Superior  Power.  It  is  a  way  Natives  have.  Nothing  warps 
the  mind  like  being  a  Native." 

When  you  come  to  the  essay  on  "  Lying,"  you  will  first  drop  a 
tear  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Oscar  Wilde,  but  reading  you  will  be 
consoled.  And  affected,  too,  by  Mr.  Belloc's  sweet  humility  in 
treating  of  the  lie  feminine :  "  But  if  any  man,"  he  observes, 
"  think  to  explain  that  sort  of  lie,  he  is  an  ass  for  his  pains;  and  if 
any  man  seek  to  copy  it  he  is  an  ass  sublimate  or  compound,  for 
he  attempts  the  mastery  of  women.  Which  no  man  yet  has  had 
of  God,  or  will.  Amen."  Then  when  you  have  read  the  paper  on 
"  Inns,"  you  will  read  it  over  again.  Twice  at  the  least.  You  will 
probably  get  the  most  pleasure  when  reading  the  remarks  on  "  Pe- 
dants," during  the  course  of  which  Mr.  Belloc  touches  on  those 
non-existent  things,  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  alcohol,  and  the  conflict 
between  religion  and  science.  After  reading  them  you  will  be 
drawn  by  an  irresistible  impulse  to  a  certain  lurid  red  shelf  of  your 
bookcase  (h'm!  where  did  I  hear  that  thought  before?),  and  you 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  in 

will  consult  Mr.  B.'s  alter  ego,  G.  K.  C.  Not  that  they  are  "  two 
souls  with  but  a  single  thought;"  on  the  contrary,  alas!  they  have 
cornered  so  many  million  thoughts  that  the  rest  of  us  poor  mortals 
may  be  left  destitute !  Let  them  beware  of  imitating  intellectually 
the  mighty  financiers  who  are  their  especial  hatred. 

Even  if  you  have  to  do  it  over  the  shoulder  of  the  man  next 
you  in  the  street-car,  be  sure  to  read  This,  That,  and  The  Other. 
"  The  second  cleverest  man  in  London  "  Mr.  Belloc  has  been  called. 
Well,  he  can  easily  be  first  in  any  little  Iberian  village  we  have  met 
this  side  the  Atlantic! 

THE  MIGHTY  FRIEND.     By  Pierre  L'Ermite.     Translated  by 

John  Hannon.     New  York:    Benziger  Brothers.     $1.50. 

Those  of  us  who  have  learned  to  be  grateful  for  many  of  the 
modern  French  novels  which  have  recently  been  given  us  in  trans- 
lation, particularly  those  of  M.  Rene  Bazin,  will  be  promptly  inter- 
ested in  The  Mighty  Friend,  a  story  written  by  Pierre  L'Ermite, 
and  crowned  by  the  French  Academy.  It  is  a  book  worth  reading, 
serious  and  suggestive,  as  well  as  enlightening.  The  economic  and 
social  conditions  of  France,  more  especially  of  rural  France,  form 
its  basis.  The  Mighty  Friend  means,  little  as  you  expect  it,  the 
land,  the  country,  the  "  nation's  pride,"  to  quote  poor  Goldsmith, 
whose  belief,  in  The  Deserted  Village,  is  that  of  our  present  author. 
He  champions  through  his  hero,  Jacques  de  la  Ferlandiere,  the 
rights  of  the  land  and  the  landowners  against  the  invading  com- 
mercialism. 

The  Vale  of  Api,  quiet  and  peaceful,  if  not  financially  prosper- 
ous, gives  itself  over  to  the  erection  of  factories  of  Jewish  owner- 
ship, and  to  the  intrusion  of  railway  lines,  and  Jacques'  prophecy  of 
resultant  trouble  is  speedily  fulfilled.  Labor  warfare,  strikes,  plot- 
tings,  and  worse  follow  in  the  wake  of  "  progress."  What  is  com- 
mercial enterprise  doing  for  France?  It  is  a  very  pretty  question, 
and  worth  studying  out. 

As  a  novel  The  Mighty  Friend  is  well  constructed;  it  is 
nowhere  permitted  to  change  into  a  treatise.  The  figure  of  Jac- 
ques himself  is  splendidly  outlined,  and  the  family  of  Harmmsters, 
the  intruding  Jews,  are  shown  just  as  cleverly,  if  a  bit  cruelly. 
There  is  a  conventional  but  pretty  love  story,  later  lifted  to  the 
dramatic  by  the  intervention  of  Alberta,  the  slightly  too  passionate 
Jewess.  Altogether  it  is  a  book  worth  reading  and  worth  recom- 
mending. 


II2  NEW  BOOKS  [April, 

STANMORE  HALL  AND  ITS  INMATES.  By  the  Author  of 
By  the  Grey  Sea,  etc.  St.  Louis:  B.  Herder.  $1.25. 
Stanmore  Hall  and  Its  Inmates,  signed  namelessly  by  the 
author  of  By  the  Grey  Sea,  An  Old  Marquise,  Mere  Gilette,  etc., 
is  a  novel  of  English  life  of  the  present  day.  Its  heroine,  little 
curly-haired  Georgie,  is  a  devout  Anglican,  who  loves  to  call  herself 
an  "  English  Catholic,"  and  who  very  scornfully  refers  to  Roman 
Catholicism  in  England  as  the  "  Italian  Mission."  She  visits  the 
Stanmores  of  Stanmore  Hall,  who  have  always  kept  the  Faith,  and 
through  them  becomes  interested  in  the  relative  claims  of  Catholics 
and  Anglicans.  Incidentally  she  falls  in  love  with  Gerald,  the  big 
brother  of  the  family,  but  it  is  only  incidentally.  She  refuses  the 
folly  of  an  emotional  conversion,  and  sets  herself  the  task  of  deter- 
mining the  rights  of  the  question.  Accordingly  she  worries  her 
poor  curly  head  with  the  Ecclesiastical  News  and  Dr.  Littledale's 
Plain  Reasons,  and  similar  noble  productions,  besides  discussing 
unity  and  continuity  (a  little  too  learnedly)  with  clergymen  and 
friends  on  both  sides.  At  last  she  sees  the  truth  clearly,  but,  as 
Canon  Sheehan  tells,  faith  is  a  kind  of  sixth  sense,  and  not  to  be 
reached  by  a  purely  intellectual  process.  Georgie  waits  for  it,  and 
it  soon  comes,  helped,  perhaps,  by  the  little  old  rosary  that  Gerald 
used  at  Stonyhurst. 

There  are  doubtless  many  more  pages  of  solid  controversy 
than  should  be  included  in  fiction,  but  the  arguments  are  excellently 
presented,  and  will  be  relished  by  anyone  interested  in  the  topic. 
Otherwise  they  may  be  judiciously  neglected,  and  the  story  enjoyed 
for  its  own  sake.  It  is  very  human  and  very  pleasant,  with  several 
clever  character-drawings.  Especially  good  is  the  kindly  old  Aunt 
Kate,  who  converses  always  of  edibles  or  the  Peerage,  insists  on 
giving  Georgie  soup  twice  a  day,  and  bewails  what  she  calls  her 
"  Puseyite  "  tendencies. 

THE  COMPLETE  WORKS  OF  JOHN  TAULER,  RELIGIOUS 
OF  THE  FOURTEENTH  CENTURY.     A  Literal  Translation 
into  French  from  the  Chartreuse  Latin  Version  by  Pierre  Noel, 
O.P.     Four  Volumes.     Paris:   A.  Tralin. 
John  Tauler's  advocates  and  clients  waited  for  two  years  for 

this  French  version  of  their  revered  master,  and  for  two  years 

they  have  welcomed  volume  by  volume  of  Pere  Noel's  learned, 

painstaking  labors. 

This  is,  of  course,  not  the  first  French  translation  of  the  illu- 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  113 

minated  Doctor,  but  it  is  the  first  entirely  complete  one.  Indeed, 
it  overflows  in  the  measure  of  its  fullness,  for  Pere  Noel  includes  in 
his  translations  certain  works  attributed  to  Tauler,  not  so  much 
from  bibliographic  evidence  as  from  close  resemblance  of  style  and 
spirit,  such  as  the  book  of  Meditations  bearing  his  name,  and  the 
little  work  known  as  the  Institutions  of  Tauler.  In  the  fourth  and 
last  volumes  are  also  given  certain  sermons  of  Tauler's  confreres, 
Eckhardt  and  Blessed  Henry  Suso,  which  are  embodied  by  Surius 
in  his  Latin  version.  Although  they  are  not  Tauler's,  they  have 
gained  a  prescriptive  right  to  his  companionship,  and  are  worthy 
of  his  name. 

Father  Elliott's  English  translation  embraces  all  the  sermons 
of  Tauler  that  have  come  down  to  us  rightly  claiming  his  author- 
ship, barring  a  few  short  poems  and  letters  not  easily  accessible 
and  of  no  great  interest. 

The  French  translation  of  Sainte  Foi,  published  over  half  a 
century  ago,  was  incomplete.  It  is  now  out  of  print  and  listed 
among  rare  books.  Pere  Noel,  in  his  introduction,  praises  his 
predecessor's  work,  while  taking  exception  to  his  timidity  in  ren- 
dering various  passages  with  less  than  literal  accuracy.  Sainte 
Foi,  being  a  layman,  felt  justified  in  looking  to  Tauler's  purpose — 
in  certain  delicate  doctrinal  matters — rather  than  to  the  exact 
words  of  a  confessedly  imperfect  original.  Nor  is  Surius  himself 
free  from  the  same  pardonable  fault.  Pere  Noel's  present  great 
work  will  be  the  standard  French  version  of  the  future,  offering 
for  all  time  a  spiritual  feast  to  all  Christians  seriously  and  sanely 
devout. 

Lawrence  Surius,  whose  Latin  translation  Pere  Noel  has  used, 
was  a  countryman  of  Tauler,  a  Rhineland  Carthusian  of  the  middle 
sixteenth  century.  Surius  was  an  uncritical  but  most  conscientious 
compiler,  and  the  editor  of  numerous  holy  lives  and  ancient  writings. 
It  was  the  Latinized  Tauler  of  Surius  that  first  placed  our  great 
mystic  in  the  hands  and  hearts  of  the  devout  men  and  women  of 
Europe.  This  was  even  true  of  German  readers. 

Surius  was  a  true  translator  and  a  judicious  paraphraser, 
where  the  latter  quality  was  needed.  A  literal  translation  of  the 
Carthusian's  Tauler  is,  therefore,  a  boon,  especially  when  pre- 
sented by  so  thoroughly  competent  a  writer  as  Pere  Noel,  and  in  a 
tongue  so  plastic  as  the  French,  and  so  very  generally  used  by  the 
educated  public. 

Pere  Noel  is  evidently  a  kindred  spirit  with  his  great  confrere. 

VOL.  xcvn. — 8. 


II4  NEW  BOOKS  [April, 

He  loves  those  silent  sanctuaries  of  God  in  the  human  soul  which 
Tauler  usually  calls  the  depths  of  our  nature,  a  term  used  also  by  St. 
Teresa.  In  this,  the  remotest  seat  of  life  and  the  holiest,  is  the  scene 
of  that  divine  generation  of  the  Second  Person  of  the  Blessed  Trinity 
into  our  life,  treated  of  so  powerfully  by  Tauler  in  the  sermons  ap- 
pearing in  the  first  volume  of  the  French  version.  Within  the  essence 
of  the  soul  do  we  find  the  Father  begetting  the  Son,  the  Father  and 
Son  producing  the  Holy  Spirit.  Here  is  the  inner  region  of 
mystical  consciousness,  the  ever-flowing  spring  of  all  divine  graces, 
of  which  devout  persons  are  too  often  ignorant,  The  scope,  aim, 
and  value  of  Tauler  is  that  he  casts  the  Christian  soul  back  into 
this  hidden  hermitage,  and  explains  how  one  may,  by  penance  and 
prayer  and  wise  direction,  come  into  a  union  with  God  so  perfect 
that  it  has  no  sensible  or  perceptible  medium. 

No  lesson  of  experience  is  more  plainly  taught  than  that  devout 
Christians  are  with  difficulty  made  really  interior  spirits.  Herein 
is  the  justification  of  Tauler's  constant  return  to  the  fundamental 
principles  of  virtue.  This  difficulty  drew  from  the  great  Apostle 
the  explanation  of  his  own  habit  of  iteration:  "To  write  the 
same  things  to  you,  to  me  indeed  is  not  wearisome,  but  to  you  is 
necessary"  (Phil.  iii.  i). 

OLD   TIME  MAKERS    OF   MEDICINE.     By   James   J.    Walsh. 

New  York:    Fordham  University  Press.     $2.00. 

This  truly  noble  and  praiseworthy  work  of  Dr.  Walsh  intro- 
duces us  to  the  many  distinguished  men  and  women  who  prac- 
ticed and  experimented  in  the  healing  of  human  ills  during  the  ages 
that  are  called  "  dark  "  and  "  ignorant "  by  self-esteemed  modern 
sciolists.  The  "  darkness  "  and  "  retrogression  "  of  these  early 
days  have  been  so  dinned  into  our  ears,  it  is  good  to  hear  from 
a  competent  authority  of  the  advancement  made  in  mathe- 
matics, engineering,  architecture,  logic,  and  the  medical  sciences 
in  these  same  "  dark  "  times.  Great  surgeons  developed  their  art 
then  to  a  high  degree,  and  successfully  performed  hard  and  delicate 
operations. 

Anaesthesia  was  freely  used,  and  antisepsis  was  known  and 
practiced.  And  leprosy,  a  then  common  disease,  was  completely 
checked  and  eradicated  by  these  great  physicians.  The  whole  story, 
of  course,  shows  the  Catholic  Church  as  the  patron  and  encourager 
of  legitimate  science,  and  not  its  persecutor,  as  the  lying  modern 
"  historians  "  would  wish  us  to  believe. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  115 

Dr.  Walsh  gives  in  detail  the  lives  of  several  of  the  early 
Christian  medical  practitioners  and  writers;  and  also  several  of 
Jewish  and  Arab  race  and  persuasion.  The  celebrated  medical 
school  of  Salerno,  and  its  most  illustrious  representative,  Constantine 
Africanus,  receive  special  notice.  The  "  mediaeval  women  physi- 
cians;" the  Medical  School  of  Bologna;  the  great  surgeons  of  the 
mediaeval  universities,  and  mediaeval  dentistry  are  exhaustively 
treated.  It  is  something  of  a  shock  to  modern  self-complacency  to 
learn  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  John  de  Vigo, 
a  Papal  physician,  filled  teeth  as  well  as  it  is  done  to-day.  This 
dentist  of  the  Pope  writes :  "  By  means  of  a  drill  or  file  the  putri- 
fied  or  corroded  part  of  the  teeth  should  be  completely  removed. 
The  cavity  left  should  then  be  filled  with  gold  leaf."  Dr.  Walsh 
has  taken  for  his  special  field  the  early  and  middle  ages  of  the 
world's  history,  a  favorite  camping-ground  of  calumniators  and 
quasi-historians.  His  lance  of  scholarship  is  levelled  fair 
and  square  against  any  and  all  who  would  enter  the  lists  with  him. 
We  are  pleased  to  note  the  promise  of  another  volume  on  an 
analogous  subject  from  his  able  pen. 

'PHE  Connecticut  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution  have 
^  had  the  present  guide  book,  Guide  to  the  United  States  for  the 
Jewish  Immigrant,  written  by  Mr.  John  Foster  Carr  to  help  the 
Jewish  immigrant  adjust  himself  quickly  to  the  living  conditions  and 
social  customs  of  the  United  States.  He  is  told  about  the  geog- 
raphy and  climate  of  the  country;  our  method  of  government;  how 
to  become  a  citizen;  where  to  obtain  work;  the  special  laws  that 
affect  him;  our  educational  advantages;  our  saving  banks,  postal 
rates,  telegrams,  passports,  etc. 

A  special  appeal  is  made  to  the  Jew  not  to  remain  in  New 
York  City,  but  to  engage  in  agriculture.  A  list  of  all  the  Jewish 
agricultural  colonies  in  the  United  States,  embracing  about  thirty 
thousand  souls,  is  given  in  detail,  and  those  interested  are  referred 
to  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society,  174  Second  Avenue,  New  York. 
A  book  of  the  kind  for  the  Catholic  immigrant  is  badly  needed. 

IN  THE  SERVICE  OF  THE  KING  (St.  Louis:  B.  Herder. 
-*-  60  cents)  is  a  pleasant  little  story  of  English  life  by  Genevieve 
Irons,  who  wrote  The  Mystery  of  the  Priest's  Parlour.  It  tells 
of  four  young  Catholic  girls  who  try,  each  in  her  own  way,  to  do 
noble  work  in  the  service  of  the  King.  One  of  the  number  attempts 


ii6  NEW  BOOKS  [April, 

Catholic  fiction,  and  her  financial  failure,  as  explained  feelingly 
by  the  author,  points  to  a  condition  of  things  in  England  similar 
to  that  deplored,  we  remember,  by  Father  Talbot  Smith  in  America. 
The  old  question:  Are  Catholic  readers  averse  to  Catholicity  in 
their  fiction  ?  Be  fair.  Is  it  not  possible  that  they  wish  the  Catho- 
lic spirit  for  its  foundation,  the  Catholic  philosophy,  and  the  Catho- 
lic atmosphere,  but  that  they  do  rationally  object  to  controversy  in 
fiction,  theology  in  fiction,  and  the  sickly,  sentimental  piety  so  often 
supposed  to  conceal  a  literary  mediocrity?  In  fairness  to  the  good 
taste  of  Catholic  readers,  we  might  mention,  even  confining  our- 
selves to  the  British  Isles,  that  My  New  Curate  is  a  household 
favorite,  that  the  name  of  "  John  Ayscough  "  is  everywhere  spoken 
in  appreciative  admiration,  and  that  a  new  book  from  Monsignor 
Benson  is  distinctly  an  Event  in  capital  letters.  And  so  on  through 
a  long  and  lengthening  list.  Let  us  beware  of  a  rash  pessimism. 

CEVEN  charming  short  stories  are  included  in  the  book  called 
^  Curly  and  Others,  by  Winifred  M.  Reynolds.  (Concord,  N. 
H. :  The  Rumford  Press.)  Very  simple  they  are,  but  sweet  and 
human.  Probably  the  best  tells  of  old  Tom,  the  pumper  of 
the  church  organ,  of  his  grief  when  superseded  by  an  electric 
motor,  and  of  his  recompensing  triumph  of  the  great  Confirmation 
Sunday  that  sees  the  motor  disconnected  by  accident,  and  himself 
coming  gloriously  to  the  rescue. 

HTHEIR  CHOICE  is  the  name  of  a  sweet,  sentimental  little  story 
^  by  Henrietta  Dana  Skinner  (New  York:  Benziger  Brothers. 
$1.00),  best  known  probably  as  the  author  of  Espiritu  Santo. 
An  American  woman  of  thirty-five,  spending  the  summer  in  Hol- 
land, meets  an  elderly  German  widower  and  his  son.  The  eternal 
triangle  thus  forms  itself,  but  the  angles  are  not  acute,  and  the  lines 
soon  fall  in  pleasant  places.  The  story  lacks  the  scope  and  the 
strength  we  expect  from  the  author,  but  remains  nevertheless  very 
charming. 

WILD  BIRDS  OF  NEW  YORK,  by  Chester  A.  Reed,  S.B. 
(Lake  Mohonk,  N.  Y. :  Mohonk  Salesrooms.  50  cents.) 
The  readers  of  Wild  Flowers  of  New  York  will  have  pleasant  antic- 
ipations upon  seeing  the  announcement  of  Mr.  Reed's  later  book, 
and  they  will  not  be  disappointed.  In  his  attractive  and  careful 
presentation  of  our  most  interesting  fauna,  will  be  found  a  color- 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  117 

gravure  and  a  satisfactory  description  of  every  one  of  the  common 
birds  of  this  state.  A  very  good  feature  of  the  volume  is  the 
classification  tabk,  which  will  enable  the  teacher  to  review  at  a 
glance  the  most  frequently-sought  and  least  easily- found  details 
necessary  for  the  planning  of  work  outlined  in  the  syllabus  of 
nature  study.  The  purchase  of  the  book  will  be  a  small  investment, 
and  the  return  a  sure  one. 

rPHE  REIGN  OF  JESUS.  By  Blessed  Jean  Eudes.  Translated 
by  R.  M.  Harding.  (New  York:  Benziger  Brothers.  $1.25 
net.)  It  would  be  not  only  superfluous  but  presumptuous  to  com- 
ment on  the  work  of  a  Saint.  It  will  suffice,  therefore,  to  indicate 
the  scope  of  this  work  in  which  one  finds  a  treatise  on  the  Christian 
life,  a  method  of  spiritual  life,  a  rule  of  life,  and  a  selection  of 
meditations  and  prayers;  in  fact,  it  is  a  compendium  of  the  teach- 
ing of  Blessed  Jean  on  the  spiritual  life,  and  of  his  method  and 
rules  for  spiritual  direction.  "  To  the  friends  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  who  would  render  love  for  love  to  the  God  Who  loved  them 
first;  who  long  to  make  His  heart  their  centre,  their  refuge,  their 
paradise,  their  life,  their  all,  The  Reign  of  Jesus  will  be  truly  a 
Golden  Book,  a  Manual  of  Perfect  Love." 

CT.  ANNE  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS,  by  Effie  Bignell  (Boston: 
V  Richard  G.  Badger.  $1.25  net),  a  "romance  of  the  Cana- 
dian borders,"  is  written  in  a  pleasing  and  attractive  style.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  "  the  beautiful  vale  of  Andorra."  The  book  cannot 
fail  to  interest  Canadians,  and  arouse  in  the  general  reader  an  ardent 
desire  to  view  the  scenes  so  graphically  depicted. 

TJARNACK  maintains  that  Christianity  only  became  Catholic 
in  the  second  century.  His  study  of  the  first  Epistle  of  St. 
Clement  was  written  to  bolster  up  this  arbitrary  theory.  Father 
Van  Laak,  in  Harnack  et  Le  Miracle  (Paris :  Bloud  et  Cie),  refutes 
the  learned  professor's  imaginings  by  a  detailed  study  of  every  pas- 
sage in  the  Epistle  referring  to  the  Old  Testament  miracles  and 
that  of  the  Resurrection  of  Christ. 

1DROM  the  press  of  Bloud  et  Cie,  Paris,  comes  also  Bellarmine's 

Notes  of  the  True  Church,  Abbe  Cristiani's  translation  of  the 

fourth  book  of  the   Cardinal's   famous   work.     In  the  excellent 

introduction  we  find  a  brief  sketch  of  the  life  and  writings  of 


iiS  NEW  BOOKS  [April, 

Cardinal  Bellarmine,  and  a  comparison  drawn  with  the  more  com- 
plete works  of  Le  Bachelet  and  de  la  Serviere. 

THE  fact  that  the  recitation  of  the  Psalter  is  practically  a  weekly 
obligation  for  every  priest,  makes  particularly  timely  a  new 
edition  of  The  Psalms,  translated  by  the  late  Archbishop  Kenrick. 
The  translation  is,  of  course,  well-known.  It  would  have  been  well 
to  have  made  use  of  the  work  of  later  Catholic  commentators  in 
editing  the  notes.  But  priests  and  religious,  and  the  laity  also, 
will  find  the  present  volume  a  handy  and  useful  one.  It  is  pub- 
lished by  John  Murphy  Company,  of  Baltimore.  Price,  75  cents 
net. 

TI7E  wish  that  every  Catholic  were  acquainted  with  The  Missal, 
' '  and  used  it  regularly  as  his  prayer  book  at  Mass.  Whatever 
complaint  may  heretofore  have  been  justified  on  account  of  the 
lack  of  a  suitable  Missal,  has  now  been  removed  by  the  publication  of 
The  Missal,  by  B.  Herder  of  St.  Louis.  The  volume  meets  the 
recent  changes  and  rulings  made  by  Pius  X.  It  gives  both  the  Latin 
and  English  text,  is  well  printed,  and  although  it  contains  over 
1,100  pages,  is  really  of  pocket  size.  It  is  a  most  useful  and  handy 
volume,  and  the  publishers  are  to  be  congratulated  on  its  produc- 
tion. The  price  is  $1.50. 


jperiobicals. 


England,  Ireland,  and  Rome.  By  Richard  Fitz  water.  No 
settlement  of  the  Irish  question  can  ever  be  arrived  at,  save  through 
the  Catholic  Church.  If  England  is  to  solve  that  question,  she 
must  work  in  harmony  and  accord  with  Rome.  Such  a  quasi-alli- 
ance,  dictated  by  policy,  if  not  by  fear,  is  actually  coming  to  pass, 
and  England's  interests  are  fast  beginning  to  be  bound  up  with 
those  of  Rome.  Only  now,  when  their  own  existence  is  threatened, 
the  Protestants  of  Ireland  begin  to  entertain  a  fellow-feeling  for 
the  Catholic  Church.  The  author's  argument  is  that  England  and 
the  more  intelligent  of  the  Protestants  of  Ireland  are  beginning  to 
see  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  all  Christian  forces  to  stand 
together  against  the  oncoming  wave  of  atheism  and  anarchy.  He 
sees  the  disastrous  work  which  these  forces  have  accomplished 
in  France,  Italy,  and  Portugal. 

The  Catholic  Church  is  the  Church  of  the  people,  the  Church 
of  the  poor;  but  it  is  also  the  Church  of  constituted  authority,  of 
that  truest  Socialism  that  thinks  of  service,  rule,  obedience.  Ire- 
land will  obey  her  Church,  and  Ireland  is  well  assured  that  her 
Church  will  never  lend  its  authority  to  persecution  or  oppression, 
and  that  if  the  hierarchy  and  priesthood  are  become  the  channel 
of  English  action  England  means  well  by  Ireland. 

Only  those  who  know  the  Irish  well  can  realize  how  any 
lessening  of  Rome's  authority  would  be  a  gain  to  the  forces  of 
disloyalty  and  disruption. 

But  the  help  that  can  come  from  England  must  come  through 
the  Catholic  Church,  for  otherwise  it  will  not  reach  the  Irish. 
The  Catholic  Church  in  Ireland,  more  by  far  than  in  any  other 
country,  rules  a  people  responsive  to  her  teaching.  Whether  Home 
Rule  comes  or  does  not  come,  the  Catholic  Church  must  stay. 
In  that  sense  it  is  true  that  Home  Rule  would  be  Rome  Rule;  but 
it  rests  with  England  to  make  it  Rome  Rule  hand-in-glove  with 
her  own.  England  cannot  with  impunity  either  ignore  or  oppose 
the  Church.  The  Church  is  there  and  will  remain.  —  British  Review, 
March. 

Fasting  in  Ireland.  By  Dom  L.  Gougaud,  O.S.B.  Fasting 
was  practiced  to  a  unique  degree  in  Ireland  during  the  Middle  Ages. 
In  many  monasteries  it  was  perpetual.  The  laity  fasted  on  Wed- 


I20  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [April, 

nesday  and  Friday  not  by  precept,  but  out  of  simple  devotion. 
Fasting  was  sometimes  made  a  means  of  supplication ;  "I  will 
not  break  my  fast  until  I  receive  from  my  God  these  three  peti- 
tions," said  the  Abbot  St.  Enna.  Compare  with  this  the  legal  pro- 
cedure of  fasting  in  order  to  force  a  creditor  to  pay  his  debts; 
if  the  debtor  should  die  from  the  fast  the  creditor  would  have  to 
pay  a  heavy  fine  to  his  family. — Irish  Ecclesiastical  Record,  March. 

Ozanam  as  an  Apologist.  By  Monsignor  A.  Baudrillart.  This 
paper  shows  the  influences  which  determined  Ozanam' s  apologetic. 
From  Chateaubriand  he  learned  the  beauty  of  Christianity;  its 
benefits  to  civilization;  its  affinity  with  the  deepest  instincts  of  the 
soul.  From  Ballanche  he  drew  the  same  ideas,  and  especially  the 
conviction  that  to  build  the  future  city  safely  one  must  know 
the  ruins  of  the  past;  like  Ballanche,  but  with  calmer  mind,  Ozanam 
gloried  in  being  a  mystical  historian,  the  former  attempting  to 
give  the  general  formula  of  the  ancient  world,  the  latter  that  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  From  Lamennais,  upon  whom  the  mantle  of 
Bossuet  then  seemed  to  have  fallen,  he  learned  how  the  history  of 
revelation  agrees  with  the  normal  progress  of  humanity. 

Lamennais  made  universal  consent  the  criterion  of  truth  in 
religion  as  in  philosophy.  "  Whatever  is  universal  in  idolatry  is 
true;  only  the  particular  is  false;  the  creed  of  humanity  does  not 
differ  from  the  Christian  creed,  which  is  only  its  development." 
This  seductive  but  dangerous  theory  he  carried  to  extremes  after 
leaving  the  Church.  But  Ozanam  was  saved  from  this  excess 
by  his  perfect  good  sense  and  his  invincible  attachment  to  ortho- 
doxy. Wisely,  as  a  layman,  he  left  to  theologians  the  defense 
of  dogma,  taking  as  his  task  the  unfolding  of  the  benefits  of  Chris- 
tianity.— Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique,  March  i. 

The  Boy  Scouts.  By  Henri  Caye.  Sir  Baden-Powell,  in 
his  manual  Scouting  for  Boys,  proposed  the  method  to  all  directors 
of  youths  in  1898.  By  1907  the  Boy  Scout  movement  had  attained 
great  popularity  in  England,  the  colonies,  and  America.  In  Latin- 
America  and  in  Japan  the  organizers  have  had  little  success,  but  in 
the  Protestant  countries  of  Europe  the  organization  has  been  re- 
markably prosperous.  There  have  been  accusations  of  anti-Catho- 
lic tendencies  in  the  movement. 

In  Belgium  there  is  a  Catholic  Boy  Scouts  organization, 
while  France  has  the  "  Christian  Union  of  the  Young  Men  of 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  121 

France."  The  bishops  in  the  latter  country  have  pronounced 
against  the  "  League  of  the  Scouts  of  France,"  because  of  its  dis- 
tinctly Protestant  atmosphere;  Protestantism  in  France  is  anti- 
Catholic. — Etudes,  February  20. 

The  Doctrine  of  Communion  According  to  Tauler  and  Suso. 
By  Louis  Delplace.  John  Tauler  and  Henry  Suso  were  celebrated 
mystics  of  the  Order  of  St.  Dominic  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
Both  were  advocates  of  frequent  Communion.  Tauler  taught  that 
the  more  frequent  our  Communions,  the  greater  would  be  our  pro- 
gress in  the  love  of  God.  If  one  is  worthy  to  receive  on  certain 
feasts,  he  says,  why  will  he  not  be  worthy  to  receive  every  day? 
To  all  who  aspired  to  greater  perfection  he  most  earnestly  recom- 
mended frequent  Communion.  Henry  Suso  said  Christ's  infinite 
love  constrained  Him  to  offer  Himself  to  His  chosen  ones  every  day. 

The  efforts  of  these  Dominicans  to  encourage  frequent  Com- 
munion encountered  great  difficulties  because  of  the  conditions  of 
the  times,  but  it  is  important  to  see  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel 
and  of  the  Church  never  changes,  though  there  may  be  obstacles 
to  hinder  its  full  realization. — Etudes,  February  20. 

Ancient  and  Modern  Prayer.  By  P.  Ubald  d'Alenqon.  The 
difference  between  ancient  and  modern  prayer  is  not,  as  Father 
Antoine  de  Serent  says,  that  the  former  is  based  on  the  liturgy 
of  the  Church  and  the  latter  on  passages  from  pious  authors;  for 
both  sources  have  always  been  employed.  Nor  that  since  the  six- 
teenth century  prayer  and  meditation,  in  addition  to  the  recitation 
of  the  Divine  Office,  have  become  obligatory,  for  it  was  always 
practiced.  But  the  two  differ  rather  in  method.  The  former 
employed  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul  at  once;  the  latter  sets  in 
motion  first  the  imagination,  then  the  understanding,  then  the  will, 
then  the  affections.  The  former  led  to  contemplation  which  is 
ordinarily  accessible  to  all;  the  latter  considers  contemplation  not 
part  of  God's  ordinary  way  of  dealing  with  souls,  and,  therefore, 
not  something  to  be  prayed  for.  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  St. 
Ignatius  himself  abandoned  his  own  method  in  later  life.  It  is 
more  suitable  for  beginners  than  for  the  proficient. — Etudes  Fran- 
ciscaines,  March. 

Workingmen's  Dwellings  and  Their  Responsibilities  Towards 
Childhood.  By  Maurice  Deslaudres.  Everyone  knows  the  difft- 


I22  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [April, 

culty  workingmen  with  families  have  in  obtaining  lodgings ;  the  ex- 
cessive prices  asked;  the  objections  made  by  landlords.  Everyone 
can  see  the  dangers  to  health  where  persons  are  crowded  together 
and  hygienic  facilities  few;  and  the  greater  dangers  to  morals 
from  the  indiscriminate  mingling,  the  lack  of  privacy,  and  the  im- 
possibility of  supervision.  Much  has  been  done  by  the  Rothschild 
Foundation  and  the  society  for  cheap  lodgings  for  large  families; 
infant  mortality  has  decreased,  morality  has  improved.  A  begin- 
ning has  been  made  to  house  young  people  separated  from  their 
families.  But  along  all  these  lines  much  remains  to  be  done. — 
Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais,  February  15. 

The  Month  (March)  :  Under  the  caption  The  Ancient  Church 
of  Wales,  the  Rev.  Herbert  Thurston  refutes  the  claims  of  the 
Anglican  Bishop  Edwards.  Henry  VIII.  robbed  "  not  the  Church, 
but  various  communities  of  alien  appropriators  of  Church  property" 
when  he  dissolved  the  monasteries,  and  also  that  the  Church  of 
Wales  in  the  Middle  Ages  was  independent  of  Rome.  The  latter 
is  disproved  by  the  well-known  historians,  Mr.  Lloyd  and  Dr.  Hart- 
well  Jones. The  Basilica  of  Fourviere,  Lyons,  by  M.  D.  Stenson, 

is  a  minute  and  careful  description,  both  from  an  artistic  and  a 
devotional  standpoint,  of  the  famous  Basilica  consecrated  in  1896. 
The  ancient  sanctuary  of  Our  Lady  of  Good  Counsel  still  remains 

and  continues  to  evoke  faith  and  devotion  from  many  pilgrims. 

The  article  entitled  Loyal  Songs,  by  James  Britten,  shows  the  atti- 
tude adopted  by  the  Orange  Societies  toward  the  great  majority  of 
their  fellow-countrymen.  This  is  especially  shown  by  their 
demonstrations  against  the  Home  Rule  Bill.  The  author  gives 
several  specimens  of  songs — anti-Catholic  in  the  extreme — which 
they  consider  as  loyal.  This  violent  rancor  is  due,  he  says,  to  the 
unscrupulous  encouragement  of  certain  politicians. — Was  There 
Divorce  in  the  Middle  Ages?  by  Rev.  Sidney  Smith,  is  an  answer  to 
the  insinuation  made  by  the  recent  Divorce  Commission,  that  the 
Catholic  Church,  by  resorting  to  subterfuge,  always  granted  divorce. 
Father  Smith  refutes  this,  showing  how  the  Church  has  always 
defended  the  indissolubility  of  marriage,  refusing  decrees  of  di- 
vorce, and  even  when  monarchs,  as  Henry  VIII.  and  Napoleon, 
demanded  them.  He  also  proves  the  diriment  impediments  to  be 
not  open  to  the  charge  of  artificiality,  but  rather  to  have  been  useful 
and  necessary,  and,  moreover,  that  declarations  of  nullity  were 
really  few. 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  123 

The  Tablet  (February  8)  :  The  Passing  of  the  Welsh  Bill 
by  the  House  of  Commons,  whereby  the  Welsh  branch  of  the  Church 
of  England  is  to  be  cut  off  from  the  control  of  Parliament  and 

stand  on  its  own  feet,  supporting  and  governing  itself. More 

Republican  Defence.  The  Radicals  of  France  are  again  attacking 
the  Catholic  schools,  this  time  under  the  pretence  of  protecting 
the  lay  schools.  The  bill  they  wish  passed  seems  to  contain  a  threat 
against  the  priests  who  refuse  absolution  to  those  penitents 
who  are  forced  by  this  and  other  laws  to  educate  their  offspring 

atheistically. The  Carbouri  Case:  A  fifteen-year  old  Arab  girl, 

committed  by  her  own  and  her  father's  request  to  the  care  of 
Catholic  Sisters  during  the  father's  imprisonment  for  theft,  desired 
to  remain  with  the  Sisters,  having  embraced  Catholicism.  Her  father 
by  process  of  law  attempted  to  obtain  custody  of  the  child,  but  the 
Judge  decided  against  the  father.  The  decision  of  the  court  showing 
that  the  interests  of  the  child  are  considered  paramount  to  parental 

rights  is  carefully  expounded. Notes:  Mr.  Balfour  in  a  speech 

said  that  the  real  difficulty  with  regard  to  Ireland  is  not  one  of  race, 

but  of  England's  treatment  of  Ireland  in  the  past. The  new 

anticlerical  ministry  of  Portugal  has  issued  a  circular  ordering  the 
strictest  interpretation  of  the  Separation  Law  throughout  the  pro- 
vinces.  The  sermon  of  Father  Vincent  McNabb,  O.P.,  at  the 

funeral  of  Father  Albert  Buckler,  O.P. 

(February  15)  :  Syndicalism:  His  Eminence  Cardinal  Bourne 
delivered  at  Leicester  an  address  on  this  system,  originating  in 
France,  to  solve  the  problem  of  fair  treatment  for  the  laboring 
classes.  It  is  not  Socialism,  but  rather  trade-unionism,  the  scope 
of  which  is  to  spread,  so  that  all  wage  earners,  including  govern- 
ment employees,  are  to  be  in  one  or  another  trade  union,  these 
trade  unions  to  enter  into  a  confederation,  and  through  this  con- 
federation all  dealings  with  capitalism  and  the  state  to  be  con- 
ducted.  Pere  Vanden  G.  Heyn,  S.J.:  The  Bishop  of  Salford 

reviews  briefly  the  life  and  work  of  the  recently  deceased  Jesuit 

philologist. The  Oriental  Rite:  In  a  letter  to  the  Editor,  M.  P. 

Snell  enters  into  detailed  explanation  of  the  Oriental  and  Eastern 
Rites  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  distinguishes  those  Churches 
united  with  the  Holy  See  from  the  so-called  "  orthodox  "  Churches. 

(February  22)  :  The  Government  and  Temperance:  A  com- 
ment on  the  position  of  the  Liberal  Government  in  refusing  to  per- 
mit the  adoption  of  an  amendment  to  a  local  option  bill  for  Scot- 
land, whereby,  in  addition  to  choosing  between  prohibition  and 


124  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [April, 

public-houses  as  they  are  now  conducted,  the  people  of  a  district 

might  chose  a  plan  of  disinterested  management. Father  Puller's 

Visit  to  Russia:  This  clergyman  went  last  year  on  a  mis- 
sion, which  had  for  its  object  the  union  of  the  Anglican 
and  Russian  Orthodox  Churches.  The  reasons  why  he 

failed     are     here     stated. The     Archbishop     of     Liverpool, 

in  discussing  the  great  increase  in  church  attendance  among  Catho- 
lics and  the  great  decrease  among  Protestants,  as  shown  by  a  recent 
"  Church  Census,"  says  the  secret  of  success  lies  in  educating  the 
child  (as  is  done  in  Catholic  schools)  from  earliest  years  along 

religious  lines. The  Roman  Correspondent  writes  that  in  the 

refusal  of  the  Italian  Government  officially  to  recognize  Monsignor 
Caron,  appointed  nearly  a  year  ago  Archbishop  of  Genoa,  is  form- 
ally asserted  the  right  of  the  Government  practically  to  veto  arbi- 
trarily episcopal  appointments  of  the  Pope  in  Italy.  It  is  hoped 
that  in  the  coming  elections  the  influence  of  Catholic  voters  will 
cause  the  election  of  those  more  favorably  disposed  to  religious 
liberty. 

(March  i):  Things  Portuguese:  The  writer  calls  attention 
to  the  inefficiency  of  the  month-old  Radical  Ministry  of  Senhor 
Costa,  and  the  sad  outlook  for  the  people  of  this  so-called  republic. 
Churches  are  being  closed;  bishops  are  in  exile,  priests  in  prisons, 
thousands  of  innocent  persons  languishing  in  foul  cells  without 

trial  simply  because  of  their  fidelity  to  the  old  religion. Notes: 

"  The  Diocesan  Congress  of  Paris  "  held  recently  supplies  a  "  strik- 
ing illustration  of  the  vitality  of  the  Church  "  in  France.  A  pro- 
gramme of  opposition  to  radical  educational  proposals  was  decided 
on.  The  financial  support  given  by  Catholics  to  their  own  schools  in 
the  past  is  adduced  as  proof  of  the  loyalty  of  Catholics  in  heart  and 

deed. -Literary  Notes:   The  Oxford  University  Press  is  about 

to  issue  a  new  addition  of  Cardinal  Newman's  Apologia,  prefaced 
by  Newman's  and  Kingsley's  pamphlets,  and  furnished  with  an 

introduction  by  Mr.  Wilfrid  Ward. Constantine  and  the  Peace 

of  the  Church,  by  Bishop  Hedley,  O.S.B.,  of  Newport.  The  cele- 
bration this  year  in  Rome  of  the  sixteenth  centenary  of  the  Edict 
of  Milan  is  the  subject  treated. Medieval  Democracy:  A  lec- 
ture by  Mr.  F.  F.  Urquhart  of  Oxford  on  what  is  usually  meant 
by  this  term.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  looked  upon  by  William  Morris 
as  the  "  Golden  Age  "  of  democracy,  "  everywhere  one  found  bodies 
of  men  managing  their  own  affairs.'5  Corporate  independence  was 
the  rule,  and  its  one  necessary  condition  was  that  each  corporation 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  125 

had  to  keep  to  its  own  field.  Subject  to  kings,  princes,  and  lords 
as  they  were,  all  had  rights  which  they  guarded  jealously.  "  There 
were  no  glaring  differences  of  wealth  "  within  the  classes,  and  the 
"  Church  organization  opened  up  the  way  to  the  highest  places  in 

Church  and  State,  and  acted  as  a  bond  between  the  classes." 

Roman  Correspondent:  A  delegation  of  over  two  hundred  Genoese 
at  an  audience  with  the  Holy  Father  offered  to  supply  from  their 
private  purses  the  means  necessary  for  Monsignor  Caron's  dignity 
and  the  government  of  the  See  if  the  Holy  Father  would  send 
Monsignor  Caron  to  Genoa,  despite  the  Italian  Government's  op- 
position. The  Holy  Father's  reply  is  given  at  length.  For  ob- 
vious reasons  he  cannot  accept  the  offer,  but  asks  the  prayers  of 
all  that  the  souls  of  the  people  may  not  suffer  from  the  evil  inflicted. 
— : — The  exemption  from  Spanish  military  service,  hitherto  enjoyed 
by  clergy  in  sacris  and  members  of  religious  orders  and  congre- 
gations, has  been  abolished  by  the  Spanish  government.  Mission- 
aries, however,  will  have  their  labors  counted  as  military  sendee. 

The  National  Review:  Special  interest  is  given  to  the  March 
issue  of  this  Review,  because  of  the  prominent  part  played  by  its 
Editor  in  a  recent  libel  suit  brought  about  by  criticisms,  published 
by  him,  with  regard  to  unworthy  participation  by  certain  Govern- 
ment officials  in  the  new  Marconi  Company.  The  Editor,  himself, 
treats  the  question  under  the  title,  The  Fight  for  Clean  Government. 

Post-impressionists,  according  to  a  writer,  who  signs  himself 

"  Montpelier,"  are  "  Literary  parasites  who  talk  pretentious  and 
futile  nonsense." 

British  Reviezv  (March)  :  The  new  science  of  Aerial  Defense 
is  treated  by  G.  H.  Mair. Professor  G.  Henslow  shows  the  in- 
adequacy of  Darwinian  evolution  by  dwelling  upon  the  axiom, 

No  Force  Can  Direct  Itself. F.  E.  Smith  maintains  that  the 

Woman's  Suffrage  Movement  has  recently  sustained  a  mortal  blow. 

Edwin  Pugh  writes  a  very  silly  paper  on  the  Soul  of  the 

Drunkard. Albert  A.  Cock  discusses  the  poetry  of  Alice  Mey- 

nell. 

Biblische  Zeitschrift  (January)  :  Dr.  P.  S.  Landersdorfer, 
O.S.B.,  in  an  article,  The  Serpent  in  Babylon,  has  collected  the  evi- 
dences found  only  in  recent  times  in  cuneiform  inscriptions  as  to  the 
existence  of  a  systematic  serpent  worship  among  the  Babylonians. 


126  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [April, 

The  form  which  this  worship  assumed  is  not  very  clear,  but  it 
seems  that  living  serpents  were  kept  in  the  temple.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  further  discoveries  may  give  still  more  evidence  for  the  cred- 
ibility of  the  Deuterocanonical  passages  in  Daniel. Dr.  H.  J. 

Vogels,  writing  on  The  Parents  of  Jesus,  shows  how  an  elaborate 
comparative  study  of  the  passages  in  St.  Luke  ii.  33  ff.  in  all  the  old 
versions  has  led  him  to  conclude  that  the  terms  "  father "  and 
"  parents  "  were  in  very  early  times  considered  objectionable  by 
some  compilers.  Many  old  Greek,  Latin,  Syriac,  and  Irish  codices 
substituted  for  those  terms  the  name  "  Joseph  "  respecting  "  Jo- 
seph and  His  (Jesus')  mother  "  or  "  Joseph  and  Mary."  It  seems 
that  it  was  Tatian  who  began  this  "  purging  "  of  the  text.  Through 
the  later  authoritative  influence  of  the  Vulgate  these  changed  texts 
were  again  superseded,  except  among  the  Syrians,  by  a  wording 
according  with  the  original  of  St.  Luke. 

Etudes  (February  5)  :  Personal  Religion,  by  Leonce  de  Grand- 
maison.  Religion  must  consist  of  both  a  public  worship  and 
private  piety.  Religion  entirely  individualistic  is  the  logical  out- 
come of  Protestantism;  at  the  other  extreme  is  the  sociological 
theory  of  religion,  formulated  by  M.  Guyau.  Personal  religion, 
i.  e.,  piety,  is  the  heart  of  true  religion;  it  is  familiar  and  filial 
sentiment  which  unites  the  soul  to  God.  True  piety  holds  the 
middle  course  between  Puritan  disdain  of  ceremony  and  soulless 

externalism. Paul  Bernard  laments  the  decadence  of  theatrical 

and  literary  art  due  to  the  modern  cult  of  self-advertisement,  and  of 
trying  to  please  the  lower  and  less  critical  public. 

(February  20)  :  Revolutionary  Syndicalism:  George  Sorel  and 
the  Radical  Anti-Democrats,  by  Henri  du  Passage,  shows  how  these 
two  opponents  of  the  present  political  system  seem  to  be  drawing 
together. 

Revue  Thomiste  (January-February)  :  The  Crisis  of  Trans- 
formism:  What  is  to  be  rejected,  what  retained  in  this  evolution- 
ary system  is  the  trend  of  C.  L.  Melizan's  study  on  Transformism; 
a  criticism  at  once  both  constructive  and  destructive  of  the  theory. 
The  present  article,  however,  is  but  a  preparatory  introduction, 
a  clearing  of  the  ground,  a  defining  of  the  discussion.  Formerly 
biologists  held  absolutely  to  an  integral  progressive  evolution  from 
one  or  many  common  stocks ;  facts  have  appeared  which  challenge 
that  view.  What  shall  we  believe? The  first  installment  of  a 


1913-]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  127 

supplement  to  be  devoted  to  the  publication  of  texts  and  documents, 
for  the  most  part  as  yet  unedited,  relating  to  the  life  of  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas.  In  the  present  number  is  found  a  brief  resume  of  the 
early  life  of  the  Saint;  his  birth  which  was  foretold;  incidents  of 
his  early  childhood;  his  stay  at  Monte  Cassino;  his  entrance  into 

the  Order  of  St.  Dominic.- The  philosophy  of  M.  fimile  Bou- 

troux,  recently  elected  to  the  French  Academy,  is,  says  R.  P.  Mon- 
tagne,  an  encouraging  reaction  against  "  scientific  "  and  atheistic 
determinism.  It  places  liberty  at  the  source  of  things,  and  insists 
upon  the  contingence  of  the  laws  of  the  universe.  Unfortunately, 
he  claims  the  speculative  reason  cannot  know  God,  but  only  the 
practical  reason. 

Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais  (February  15)  :  L.  Hays  appeals 
for  the  teaching  of  church  history  with  the  catechism  in 
order  to  give  a  basis  for  doctrine.  It  should  mark  out  the  great 
lines  of  religious  history,  and  not  be  a  mere  collection  of  stories; 
and  it  should  furnish  answers  to  present-day  objections  and  mis- 
representations of  the  Faith  drawn  from  history.  One  question, 
for  instance,  which  should  be  treated  is  the  age  of  man.  For  this 
we  need  new  manuals,  more  complete,  and  better  printed  and 
illustrated. Ch.  Quenet  describes  the  apathetic  condition  of  re- 
ligion in  Russia,  the  country  priest  devoting  himself,  when  of  the 
better  type,  to  the  development  of  cooperative  societies  rather  than 
to  the  spiritual  improvement  of  the  people.  He  never  reads  re- 
ligious papers ;  he  never  preaches  on  dogma.  The  people  are  ignor- 
ant, down-trodden,  starving,  but  the  younger  generation  are  learn- 
ing the  songs  of  the  Revolution. 

(March  i):  G.  Vannenfville  describes  the  lamentable  moral 
and  religious  condition  of  workingmen's  families.  Irreligious  prop- 
aganda, unfavorable  home  and  working  conditions,  open  advocacy 
of  race  suicide,  the  socialist  assertion  that  Socialism  alone  is  the 
friend  of  the  workingman  have  been  to  blame.  The  Church  must 
favor  organizations  for  the  material  improvement  of  her  members, 
and  imbue  them  with  Catholic  principles,  and  she  must  show  herself, 
as  she  is,  the  only  satisfying  answer  to  the  deepest  needs  of  the  soul. 

G.  Planque  contributes  a  long  and  sympathetic  description 

of  the  life  and  work  of  General  Booth,  late  head  of  the  Salvation 
Army,  describing  his  efforts  in  the  East  End  of  London,  and  em- 
phasizing the  constant  Christian  spirit  which  sustained  and  guided 
him. L.  Cl.  Fillion  concludes  his  study  of  The  Truceless  War 


128  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [April, 

Against  the  Gospel  and  Jesus  Christ,  as  carried  on  largely  by  ration- 
alistic German  and  English  critics. 

Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique  (February  15)  :  Joseph  Dedien 
summarizes  the  conclusions  reached  by  M.  de  Guichen  in  two  recent 
and  carefully  documented  studies  on  the  anti-religious  forces  in 

France  from  1815  to  1830. J.  Verdier  asks  whether  private 

property  is  an  individual  right  or  a  social  function,  and  concludes 
from  a  study  of  the  Scriptures,  the  Fathers,  and  the  needs  of  human 
nature  that  it  is  both,  but  primarily  the  first.  It  is  an  individual 

right,  and  it  has  a  social  function. Jean  Didier  describes  the 

spread  of  a  mechanistic  philosophy  among  the  universities  of 
France.  It  means  materialism  and  atheism.  In  biology,  psychol- 
ogy, sociology,  the  aim  is  to  gather  facts,  suppressing  or  denying 
all  else;  finality,  free-will,  miracles,  personality  are  excluded. 

(March  i)  :  A.  de  Boysson  describes  the  preparation  necessary 
for  an  accurate  understanding  of  the  human  nature  of  our  Lord,  and 
shows  what  conclusions  regarding  His  human  knowledge  and  holi- 
ness will  be  obtained  by  the  application  of  the  legitimate  method  of 
studying  the  unique  Personality. Jean  Bainvel  shows  that  relig- 
ion is  not  mere  sentiment  or  subjective  feeling,  but  intellectual,  and 
objectively  true,  and  that  that  religion  alone  is  true  and  good  which 
contains  all  truth,  and  counsels  only  what  is  good,  which  respects 
the  nature  of  things  and  corresponds  with  the  desires  of  God. 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  (February  15)  :  The  Conte  d'Haus- 
sonville,  of  the  Academic  Franchise,  begins  a  series  of  articles 
based  on  the  letters  of  Mme.  Stael  and  Necker.  Through  this  un- 
published correspondence,  we  see  Necker  and  his  celebrated 
daughter  in  quite  a  new  light.  In  this  first  article,  Mme.  de  Stael 
appears  to  be  monumentally  selfish  and  cold,  yet  passionately  de- 
voted to  her  father. In  the  Lesson  of  Canada  is  shown  how  the 

French  government  was  wholly  to  blame  in  the  loss  of  Canada  to 
France. 


IRecent  Events. 

The  installation  of  M.   Poincare  as  ninth 
France.  President  of  the  Republic  took  place  with  a 

simplicity  as  great  as  that  which  character- 
izes the  inauguration  of  our  own  President.  Perhaps  it  was  even 
greater;  for  there  seems  to  have  been  no  oath  of  office,  at  least  no 
mention  is  made  of  it  in  the  accounts  seen  by  the  writer  of  these 
notes.  There  was  certainly  no  Bible,  and  no  address  was  made 
by  the  incoming  President.  A  few  compliments  were  exchanged 
between  the  outgoing  and  the  incoming  holder  of  the  office;  they 
then  shook  each  other's  hand,  and  the  ceremony  was  over.  No 
Presidential  election  has  been  so  generally  endorsed  by  the  people  at 
large  as  has  been  that  of  M.  Poincare,  and  as  it  took  place  in  spite 
of  the  most  earnest  opposition  of  the  party  in  the  Assembly  to 
which  the  anti-religious  legislation  is  chiefly  due,  it  may  perhaps  be 
inferred  that  the  great  body  of  the  nation  is  not  so  opposed  to 
religion  as  is  this  the  largest  party  in  the  Assembly. 

The  former  President,  M.  Fallieres,  retires  with  every  mark  of 
respect  and  esteem.  Some  have  characterized  him  as  a  President 
faineant  j  but  those  who  have  a  real  knowledge  of  events  recognize 
the  fact  that,  behind  an  unassuming  exterior,  he  has  been  a  great 
power  for  peace  in  Europe  and  of  concord  among  Frenchmen.  He 
at  all  times  inspired  confidence  through  the  way  in  which  he  dealt 
with  the  many  questions  which  arose  during  his  term  of  office, 
especially  the  difficulty  with  reference  to  Morocco. 

*»•  In  the  address  sent  to  the  Assembly  by  the  new  President 
two  days  after  his  installation,  Electoral  Reform,  in  order,  that 
the  public  will  might  find  expression  in  the  most  genuine  and  exact 
way,  was  put  in  the  forefront  of  the  programme.  Means  to  lighten 
the  burdens  of  the  people  were  to  be  sought.  For  the  national 
defense  every  sacrifice  was  to  be  made.  No  effort  was  to  be  spared 
to  strengthen  ard  to  consolidate  the  army  and  the  navy.  It  is  to 
the  last-named  object  that  the  French  nation  is  now  called  upon  to 
devote  itself  in  the  first  place;  the  great  increase  which  Germany 
is  making  of  her  army  has  forced  France  to  corresponding  efforts. 
The  one  thing  in  the  Gospel  which  meets  with  the  unqualified 
approval  of  the  civilization  of  Europe  at  the  present  time  is  the 
VOL.  xcvu. — 9. 


130 


RECENT  EVENTS  [April, 


conduct  of  the  strong  man  who  kept  himself  fully  armed,  and  on 
the  watch,  and  in  this  way  kept  the  peaceful  possession  of  his  goods. 

As  between  France  and  Germany,  the  plain  facts  of  the  situa- 
tion are  that  Germany  has  a  population  of  sixty-seven  millions, 
while  Franoe'  has  only  thirty-eight  millions ;  that  the  peace  strength 
of  the  German  army  will  be  raised  by  the  new  scheme  just  pub- 
lished to  a  total  of  between  eight  hundred  thousand  and  nine  hun- 
dred thousand  men,  while  the  peace  strength  of  the  army  of  France 
is  only  five  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand.  Hence  it  is  easily 
seen  that  France  is  called  upon  to  put  forth  her  utmost  efforts  to 
bring  her  army  to  something  like  an  equality  with  that  of  Germany. 
The  first  step  that  has  been  taken  by  the  government  is  to  propose 
a  return  to  three  years  service  with  the  colors  for  all  arms  of  the 
army,  reverting  to  the  state  of  things  before  1905,  when  the  period 
<of  service  was  reduced  from  three  years  to  two,  but  with  various 
exemptions.  All  these  exemptions  it  is  now  proposed  to  abolish. 
The  Bill  when  introduced  received  the  support  of  the  large  majority 
of  the  Chambers;  the  Socialists  and  a  few  Radicals  alone  offering 
opposition.  Other  measures  are  to  follow  which  will  involve 
a  large  addition  to  the  burden  of  taxation.  And  so,  without  any 
fault  on  his  part,  the  new  President's  proposal  to  alleviate  the  bur- 
dens of  the  people  seem  far  from  likely  to  be  realized. 

The  appointment  of  M.  Delcasse  as  Ambassador  to  St.  Peters- 
burg has  excited  great  attention,  because  in  1905  he  was  considered 
so  hostile  to  Germany  that,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  he  was  forced  by 
the  French  Premier  to  retire  from  the  office  of  Foreign  Minister. 
He  was  accused  of  aiming  at  the  encirclement  of  Germany  by 
a  ring  of  foes.  No  other  Foreign  Minister  since  M.  Guizot  has 
held  that  office  so  long,  and  he  did  more  to  give  to  France  a  firm  and 
stable  foreign  policy  than  any  other  living  man.  It  is  to  his  efforts 
that  the  Entente  Cordiale  with  Great  Britain  is  chiefly  due.  Had  it 
not  been  for  this  Entente  with  France,  that  between  Russia  and 
Great  Britain  would  never  have  been  made,  nor  would  there  have 
been  any  Triple  Entente  to  stand  face  to  face  with  the  Triple 
Alliance.  These  two  groups  now  form  the  basis  of  the  European 
situation,  the  two  hinges  upon  which  everything  turns.  The  ap- 
pointment of  M.  Delcasse  has  given  great  satisfaction  not  only  in 
Russia,  but  also  in  Great  Britain;  it  is  taken  as  an  indubitable 
indication  of  France's  unswerving  loyalty  to  the  alliance  with 
Russia.  The  Tsar's  letter  to  M.  Poincare  makes  it  clear  that  on 
her  side  Russia  is  equally  loyal. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  131 

M.  Jaures,  the  Socialist  leader,  is  alarmed  at  the  efforts  which 
the  Catholics  of  France  are  making,  at  their  own  expense,  to  give 
religious  education  to  the  children  of  the  people,  and  has  brought 
before  the  Chamber  a  proposal  to  levy  additional  taxation  to  the 
amount  of  one  hundred  millions,  in  order  to  render  the  icole  laique 
more  efficient.  So  poor  are  these  schools,  and  so  bad  is  the  attend- 
ance, that  thirty-six  per  cent  of  the  conscripts  have  to  receive 
elementary  instruction  when  they  enter  the  army.  Successive  gov- 
ernments, M.  Jaures  asserted,  had  not  even  endeavored  to  carry 
out  the  Education  Laws.  The  religious  schools  had  entered  into 
dangerous  competition  with  the  State  schools;  a  large  section  of 
the  people  of  France  were  indifferent;  they  even  mistrusted  these 
schools.  The  Catholics  had  been  so  wicked  as  to  defend  themselves. 
They  even  said  that  the  motor  bandits  were  a  legitimate  product  of 
secular  education,  and  a  large  section  of  the  Republican  middle 
class  was  getting  frightened  by  the  practical  results  of  the  recent 
change.  They  were  beginning  to  think  that  the  national  school 
was  providing  recruits  for  the  prison  and  the  scaffold.  These 
declarations  of  M.  Jaures  produced  considerable  tumult  in  the 
Chamber,  and  led  to  its  voting  an  additional  sum  of  over  ten 
millions  for  an  increase  of  the  salaries  of  the  teachers  in  the  national 
schools. 

The  large  increase  of  the  army  which  has 

:  .f     Germany.  been  determined  upon  by  the  government 

is,  of  course,  the  most  important  event  which 

has  taken  place  in  Germany.  The  proposal  was  quite  unexpected, 
for  the  increase  made  two  years  ago  was,  it  was  thought,  sufficient 
for  five  years  at  least.  Various  reasons  are  suggested,  but  no  one 
knows  the  true  reasons.  The  rise  of  the  Slav  Power,  owing  to  the 
success  of  the  Allies  in  the  Balkans,  has  an  appearance  of  prob- 
ability. What  is  certain,  however,  is  that  a  further  burden  will 
be  placed  upon  the  German  people,  and  not  upon  them  only,  but 
also  upon  all  the  nations  who  may  think  themselves  threatened 
by  German  armaments.  Estimates  made  by  the  well-informed 
place  the  initial  and  non-recurring  expenditure  at  no  less  a  sum 
than  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions,  while  for  each  year  some  fifty 
millions  more  will  have  to  be  raised. 

Loans  will  have  again  to  be  issued.  In  fact,  preparations 
have  been  made  already  for  one  of  about  one  hundred  millions. 
How  all  this  money  is  to  be  raised  is  now  for  German  statesmen 
the  most  anxious  of  problems.  The  landed  classes  are  the  most 


I32  RECENT  EVENTS  [April, 

eager  in  support  of  the  policy  which  involves  this  expenditure,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  the  least  willing  themselves  to  bear  even  a  part 
of  the  burden;  this  was  proved  a  few  years  ago.  But  it  is  unlikely 
that  they  will  now  be  able  to  escape.  It  is,  in  fact,  stated  that 
the  government  proposes  to  levy  a  non-recurring  duty  on  fortunes. 
Whatever  may  be  the  proposals  which  the  government  may  make, 
they  are  certain  to  be  hotly  contested  in  the  Reichstag.  With  the 
Centre  it  has  already  had  several  conflicts;  these  proposals  will 
give  that  party  yet  another  opportunity. 

This  year  it  is  not  proposed  to  make  any  additions  to  the  navy. 
A  statement  of  Admiral  von  Tirpitz,  made  before  the  Budget  Com- 
mittee, was  interpreted  as  meaning  that  Germany  had  accepted  the 
British  idea  that  the  naval  strength  of  their  respective  navies 
should  stand  at  sixteen  to  ten.  Some  doubts,  however,  exist  as  to 
the  exact  meaning  of  the  Admiral,  but  it  seems  clear  that  he  did 
not  enter  into  a  definite  agreement. 

The  Emperor  has  made  several  speeches  which  have  excited 
a  good  deal  of  attention.  At  Konigsberg,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
celebration  of  the  rising  of  East  Prussia  against  Napoleon,  he 
attributed  the  successful  result  to  the  moral  strength  which  is 
inherent  in  the  people.  "  The  roots  of  that  strength  lie/'  he 
declared,  "  in  the  fear  of  God,  the  sense  of  duty,  and  devotion 
to  King  and  country."  In  a  speech  made  a  few  days  later,  he 
attributed  the  disasters  which  in  1806  befell  Prussia  in  its  wars 
with  Napoleon,  to  the  fact  that  the  Prussian  people  had  lost  the 
faith  of  their  fathers.  It  was  a  judgment  of  God  in  punishment 
of  the  foreign  ways  that  had  gained  ground  among  them.  When 
it  recovered  its  faith  the  nation  was  reborn.  "  This  present  genera- 
tion— which  is  inclined  to  believe  principally  in  what  can  be  seen, 
proved,  or  touched  with  the  hands,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  shows 
less  respect  for  what  is  transcendental — this  present  generation  may 
well  learn  how  to  get  back  to  the  faith  of  its  fathers.  In  the 
facts  of  the  past  we  have  sure  proofs  of  the  governance  of  God." 

A  recent  trial  in  the  Civil  Court  of  Elbing  shows  that  not 
only  is  the  Emperor  subject  to  the  laws  of  the  Empire,  but  that 
judges  exist  in  Germany  who  apply  the  laws  without  fear  or  favor. 
His  Majesty  brought  before  the  Court  a  tenant  on  one  of  his  estates, 
of  whom  he  wished  to  get  rid,  "  since  he  had  no  longer  any  use 
for  him."  So  far,  however,  from  executing  the  will  of  the  Kaiser, 
the  Court  found  the  defendant's  case  to  be  sound,  and  dismissed  the 
action  with  costs. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  133 

As  is  usually  the  case,  the  weak  has  had  again  to  yield  to  the 
strong.  The  son  of  the  King  of  Hanover,  who  in  1866  was  de- 
prived of  his  kingdom,  has  found  it  necessary  to  come  to  terms 
with  the  German  Emperor.  Of  the  exact  details  we  are  not 
informed.  But  as  a  consequence  of  the  reconciliation,  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland's  only  surviving  son,  Prince  Ernest  Augustus,  is  to 
wed  the  only  daughter  of  the  Emperor,  Princess  Victoria  Louisa. 
The  Prince  is  to  enter  the  German  army. 


Through  the  death  of  the  Archduke  Rainer 
Austria-Hungary,  the  Habsburg  Family  has  been  deprived  of 

its  most  popular  member,  with  the  exception 

of  the  Emperor  himself.  He  was  looked  upon  as  a  Liberal,  having 
taken  a  firm  stand  against  the  reactionary  tendencies  which  mani- 
fested themselves  from  time  to  time  in  Austria,  being  always  a 
champion  of  elementary  popular  rights.  To  him  was  due  the  re- 
organization of  the  Austrian  Landwehr.  He  was  related  not  only 
to  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph,  but  also  to  the  King  of  Italy, 
being  a  cousin  of  the  former,  and  great-uncle  of  the  latter. 

Almost  the  whole  attention  of  the  country  has  been  absorbed 
in  the  prospect  of  becoming  involved  in  a  war  with  Russia.  This 
seems  to  have  been  averted,  but  no  one  can  yet  be  sure.  The 
Emperor  Francis  Joseph  sent  a  Special  Envoy  with  an  autograph 
letter  to  the  Tsar.  The  envoy  was,  of  course,  graciously  received, 
and  to  him  was  given  a  reply.  But  no  one  yet  knows  the  exact 
contents  of  the  two  letters,  nor  even  the  precise  results.  The  last 
rumors,  however,  are  to  the  effect  that  the  two  Powers  have 
begun  to  disarm. 

At  the  time  that  this  is  being  written,  the 
The  Balkan  War.  Balkan  War  is  still  going  on,  although  so 

successful  have  been  the  efforts  to  suppress 

news  that  almost  nothing  more  is  known  than  that  Yanina  has 
fallen,  that  Adrianople  is  once  more  said  to  be  on  the  point  of 
falling,  and  that  Skutari  is  almost  as  far  as  ever  from  falling. 
Rumania  and  Bulgaria  have  agreed  to  refer  their  differences  to  the 
arbitration  of  Russia  and  Italy.  Turkey  has  made  an  appeal  to  the 
good  offices  of  the  Powers  for  the  purpose  of  securing  terms  of  peace 
from  the  Allies.  This  appeal  has  not,  however,  been  successful, 
for  the  Powers  could  not  prevail  upon  the  Allies  to  consent  to  such 
terms  as  they  were  willing  to  recommend  to  Turkey  for  acceptance. 


I34  RECENT  EVENTS  [April, 

No  one  can  say  what  effect  the  assassination  of  the  King  of 
the  Hellenes  may  have  upon  the  situation.  He  proved  himself 
a  wise  statesman  in  the  management  of  Greek  affairs  during  the 
military  dictatorship  a  few  years  ago.  The  great  man  of  Greece, 
M.  Venezelos,  is  still  left  at  the  helm.  Hence  in  the  complications 
that  are  likely  to  arise  after  the  war  is  over  between  the  Allies, 
Greece  will  not  be  without  a  capable  leader  in  him. 


The  internal  situation  in  Russia  excites  little 

Russia.  attention,  and  may,  therefore,  be  presumed 

to  be  fairly  satisfactory,  so  far  as  this  is 

impossible  in  a  country  where  arbitrary  rule  is  still  predominant. 
The  character  of  this  rule  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  not 
infrequently  members  of  the  police  force,  the  chief  instru- 
ment of  that  rule,  take  the  place  of  their  victims,  and  are  themselves 
thrown,  for  their  own  misdeeds,  into  the  prisons  to  which  they  have 
been  the  means  of  sending  so  many  of  their  fellow-citizens  or 
rather  subjects.  This  has  recently  happened  to  the  former  Chief 
of  the  Political  Police  at  Kieff,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  secret 
police  at  the  time  of  the  assassination  of  M.  Stolypin.  He  has 
been  sentenced  to  sixteen  months'  detention  in  a  fortress  for 
neglect  in  the  administration  of  funds,  and  the  forgery  of  vouchers. 
The  charge  that  he  was  culpably  careless  in  not  preventing  the 
assassination  of  the  Premier  was  withdrawn. 

The  Ministry  of  M.  Kokovtsoff  still  remains  in  power  with  no 
change,  except  that  for  reasons  of  health  the  former  Minister  of 
the  Interior  has  resigned,  and  his  place  has  been  given  to  M.  Makla- 
koff,  who  is  married  to  a  granddaughter  of  Count  Leo  Tolstoy. 
The  Ministry  and  the  Fourth  Duma,  which  opened  its  session  last 
December,  are  working  together  harmoniously.  Both  it  and  the 
Tsar  seem  to  be  animated  with  the  desire  to  realize  in  their  action 
the  principles  proclaimed  in  the  Imperial  Manifesto  of  October 
30,  1905.  The  government  is  accused  of  endeavoring  to  secure 
this  cooperation  by  exerting  undue  influence  upon  the  election 
last  autumn. 

The  illness  of  the  Tsarevitch  last  year  caused  no  little  anxiety, 
as  he  is  the  only  son,  and  his  death  would  have  involved  a  change 
of  the  succession.  The  health  of  the  heir  to  the  throne  seems 
now  to  be  quite  restored.  It  was  rumored  that  during  the  period 
of  anxiety  a  cousin  of  the  Tsar  would  be  designated  as  the  heir. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  135 

Notable  progress  has  been  made  in  improving  the  condition  of 
the  peasants  since  the  change  of  governmental  methods.  M.  Stoly- 
pin's  Agrarian  Law  effected  a  great  change  in  their  position.  The 
new  year  was  signalized  by  the  abolition  of  temporary  servitudes 
which  the  peasantry  living  in  certain  Caucasion  districts  still  owed. 
This  measure  was  promoted  and  carried  out  by  the  government  in 
spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  landowning  interests,  and  is  a  further 
indication  of  its  desire  to  promote  the  well-being  of  the  mass  of 
the  population. 

The  Sickness  and  Accident  Insurance  Law  passed  last  June 
is  another  indication  of  the  same  policy.  This  law  makes  the 
insurance  against  sickness  and  accident  compulsory.  The  exact 
details  of  this  measure  have  not  reached  us,  nor  would  the  space 
at  our  disposal  permit  the  publication  of  them.  The  government 
at  the  present  time  is  engaged  in  establishing  the  local  insurance 
offices  throughout  the  Empire,  and  in  drawing  up  the  regulations 
for  the  carrying  the  law  into  effect.  Delegates  of  the  workingmen 
are  entitled  to  seats  in  the  Insurance  Councils.  The  Socialists  are 
said  to  be  by  no  means  enchanted  with  the  Law  as  a  whole,  one  of 
their  organs  declaring  it  to  be  "  an  insurance  of  capital  at  the 
expense  of  labor." 

Industrial  conditions  are  now  very  prosperous  in  Russia,  and 
new  enterprises  are  numerous.  The  migration,  so  common  in  other 
countries,  of  the  agricultural  population  to  the  towns  is  beginning 
to  be  felt  in  Russia,  with  the  prospect  of  that  agitation  which 
follows  in  its  train. 

The  nationalities  subject  to  Russia  do  not,  however,  share 
in  the  satisfaction  so  widely  felt.  The  legislation  which 
was  passed  through  the  Duma  in  regard  to  Finland  is  looked 
upon  by  many  of  the  wiser  and  saner  part  of  its  population  as 
unconstitutional.  Many  judges  and  municipal  authorities  have 
refused  to  comply  with  these  provisions.  In  consequence  no  fewer 
than  twenty-three  members  of  the  Court  of  Appeal  at  Viborg,  as 
well  as  two  municipalities,  have  been  transported  by  force  to  St. 
Petersburg,  and  sentenced  to  terms  of  imprisonment  in  Russian 
prisons.  All  other  judges  and  legal  officers  in  Finland,  to  the 
number  of  several  thousand,  are  under  threat  of  the  same  proceed- 
ings, unless  they  consent  to  violate  what  they  look  upon  as  their 
sworn  duty.  This  action  of  the  Russian  government  has  called 
forth  a  protest  from  a  large  number  of  distinguished  jurists  in 
England.  Rumors  were  current  during  the  recent  crisis  that  in 


136  RECENT  EVENTS  [April, 

the  event  of  war  breaking  out  between  Russia  and  Austria-Hungary, 
the  Poles  would  have  taken  the  opportunity,  and  would  have  risen 
in  arms  to  secure  their  independence. 

The  three  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  accession  of  the 
Romanoffs  has  just  been  celebrated  throughout  Russia.  When 
Michael  Romanoff  was  called  by  the  people  to  rule  over  them, 
the  Russians  were  under  the  dominion  of  the  same  Mongols  who 
are  now  rejoicing  in  having  obtained  the  protection  of  their  former 
subjects.  This  Mongolian  domination  had  the  effect  of  degrading 
the  subjected  race.  What  Russia  is  to-day,  and  what  she  has  been 
in  the  interval,  is  due  to  the  ability  of  the  ruling  family,  and  to  the 
autocratic  power  with  which  it  was  entrusted.  The  most  ardent 
defenders  of  self-government  are  not  concerned  to  deny  that  in 
certain  stages  of  a  nation's  development,  and  if  by  good  fortune 
really  able  rulers  are  found,  an  autocratic  rule  may  produce  the 
best  results.  At  all  events,  all  Russia  is  now  engaged  in  lauding  the 
Tsars  as  the  authors  of  its  well-being.  The  celebrations  were 
almost  entirely  religious.  Thanksgiving  services  were  held  in  all 
the  churches  of  the  Empire,  the  Tsar  going  in  a  solemn  procession 
to  a  Special  Service  held  in  Kazan  Cathedral.  By  an  Imperial 
Ukase  various  classes  of  prisoners  received  either  full  remission  of 
their  punishment,  or  large  reductions;  large  sums  of  money  were 
appropriated  for  the  benefit  of  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  and  for  other 
purposes;  and  measures  were  ordered  to  be  taken  for  the  care  of 
the  orphans  of  the  agricultural  classes  irrespective  of  religion. 

The  conclusion  of  the  Treaty  with  Mongolia,  by  which  a  vast 
extent  of  new  territory  has  been  brought  within  Russia's  sphere 
of  influence,  has  been  followed  by  a  Special  Mission  from  the 
Regent  of  Mongolia  to  the  Tsar,  and  subsequently  by  the  dispatch  of 
military  officers  for  the  purpose  of  training  the  National  Army 
of  the  Mongolians,  by  means  of  which  the  invasion  by  Chinese 
troops  may  be  prevented.  Mongolia  is  not  to  become — at  least  for 
the  present — a  part  of  the  Russian  Empire :  it  is  to  remain  an  auton- 
omous state. 

In  the  Agreement  between  Russia  and  Mongolia,  by  which 
the  new  arrangement  has  been  brought  about,  Mongolia  is  pre- 
cluded from  entering  into  any  such  agreement  with  China,  "  or  any 
other  Foreign  State,"  as  would  traverse  or  modify  the  recently-made 
treaty,  except  with  the  assent  of  the  Imperial  Russian  Government 
It  is  denied  that  Russia's  action  in  this  matter  has  constituted  any 
interference  with  China's  internal  affairs.  Mongolia,  it  is  held, 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  137 

always  stood  apart  from  China  politically  and  ethnographically. 
The  sole  bond  between  the  two  was  the  dynastic.  As  the  Manchu 
dynasty  has  fallen,  the  only  tie  has  been  broken.  By  such  political 
casuistry  it  is  sought  to  justify  the  taking  from  China  of  more  than 
a  fourth  of  her  territory.  The  example  of  Mongolia  having  been 
followed  by  Tibet,  a  country  of  about  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  square  miles,  China  is  being  shorn  of  something  like 
half  her  territory.  Russia,  however,  has  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  action  of  Tibet,  and,  in  fact,  is  precluded  by  the  Agreement 
with  Great  Britain  from  any  interference  in  its  foreign  affairs. 
An  agent,  however,  of  the  Dalai  Lama  has  made  his  appearance  at 
St.  Petersburg;  but  no  apprehension  is  felt  in  Great  Britain  that 
the  Russian  government  will  act  otherwise  than  in  accordance  with 
its  engagements.  China  at  present  is  too  weak  and  disorganized 
to  be  able  to  maintain  her  rights.  She  has,  however,  by  no  means 
renounced  them,  and  her  voice  may  be  heard  later  on. 

A  Bill  has  been  introduced  into  the  Duma  to  secure  freedom 
for  religious  beliefs,  and  equality  for  all  creeds  before  the  law. 
The  Procurator  of  the  Holy  Synod,  in  its  name,  is  acting  to  secure 
its  rejection.  Orthodoxy,  he  declares,  is  the  State  religion,  and, 
therefore,  religion  in  Russia  cannot  be  made  a  matter  of  conscience. 
He  is  afraid,  too,  that  in  the  event  of  such  a  Bill  becoming  law, 
the  governing  power  might  falj  into  the  hands  of  the  Jews  or 
Mussulmans.  He  is  willing,  however,  that  the  present  toleration 
given  in  various  degrees  to  different  religious  bodies  should  be 
continued. 

The  tension  between  Russia  and  Austria-Hungary  seems  at 
last  on  the  point  of  being  relaxed.  In  fact,  it  is  said  that  orders 
have  been  given  to  dismiss  the  troops  that  had  been  summoned 
to  arms,  or  at  least  a  part  of  them.  How  far  the  armament  had 
gone  is  not  known.  For  the  most  stringent  orders  were  issued  that 
no  intelligence  should  be  published,  and  it  is  wonderful  how  strictly 
has  been  the  observance  of  those  orders.  The  power  of  the  press, 
not  only  in  the  expression  of  opinion,  but  even  in  the  dissemination 
of  news,  has  proved  not  to  be  so  great  as  it  was  thought.  Not 
only  the  Balkan  Allies,  but  the  Powers  still  at  peace,  have  proved 
themselves  able  to  suppress  almost  everything  which  seemed  desir- 
able. A  few  months,  however,  will  suffice  to  bring  the  facts  to 
light.  Hence  the  real  relations  of  the  Powers,  one  to  another  during 
the  recent  critical  period,  remains  more  or  less  a  matter  of  surmise. 
The  Triple  Alliance,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Dual  Alliance  and 


138  RECENT  EVENTS  [April, 

the  Entente,  on  the  other,  are  supposed  to  be  facing  one  another, 
yet  to  have  acted  in  concord  for  the  preservation  of  peace.  But  the 
line  is  not  altogether  clearly  drawn;  for  Italy  has  an  agreement 
with  Russia  on  the  Balkan  situation,  at  least  in  some  of  its  aspects ; 
while  a  large  party  in  Austria  is  by  no  means  friendly  to  Italy. 
But  for  exact  information  on  these  points  we  shall  have  to  wait 
and  see. 

Elections  have  been  taking  place  in  China 
China.  for  the  Assembly  which  is  to  settle  the  defi- 

nite form  of  its  Constitution.     It  cannot, 

however,  be  said  that  the  prospects  of  the  future  are  bright.  The 
political  energy  of  the  nation  seems  to  have  been  exhausted  by  the 
effort  put  forth  in  establishing  the  Republic.  The  members  of 
the  National  Council,  which  in  the  interim  forms  the  Legislature  of 
the  Empire,  are  so  remiss  in  attending  its  meetings  that  twenty 
times  in  succession  no  session  could  be  held  for  lack  of  a  quorum. 
For  two  months  the  work  of  this  provisional  Parliament  was  in 
this  way  brought  to  a  standstill.  Necessary  laws  have  had  to  be 
made  by  the  government's  proclamation  alone,  and  the  question 
may  arise  as  to  their  legality.  This  apathy  of  the  legislators  is 
hard  to  explain.  Rumors,  however,  are  in  circulation  that  the 
President  is  acting  after  the  manner  of  a  dictator,  and  that  it  is 
through  fear  that  the  legislators  abstain  from  the  exercise  of  their 
powers.  It  is,  at  all  events,  a  fact  that  whenever  there  has  been  a 
divergence  of  views  between  the  government  and  the  Council,  the 
wishes  of  the  latter  have  never  prevailed. 

A  statement  has  appeared  that  after  months  of  negotiation  the 
Loan  from  the  Six  Powers  has  at  last  been  secured.  The  negotia- 
tions were  protracted  so  long,  and  were  so  many  times  broken  off, 
that  the  Chinese  authorities  were  becoming,  and  not  without  reason, 
cynically  indifferent  not  only  as  to  it,  but  also  as  to  all  their  foreign 
liabilities.  Default  has  been  made  in  the  Boxer  indemnity,  and 
in  several  other  of  the  charges  upon  the  nation.  The  country  was 
without  funds  to  meet  its  debts.  It  was  willing  to  borrow,  the 
Powers  were  willing  to  lend,  but  could  not  agree  among  themselves 
as  to  the  persons  to  be  appointed  to  watch  over  the  revenue.  If  at 
last  things  have  been  arranged,  a  small  but  absolutely  necessary  step 
towards  a  settlement  has  been  taken.  A  thing  that  tends  to  alleviate 
the  situation  is  that  trade  and  commerce  are  prosperous.  The 
Maritime  Customs  Revenue  for  1912  show  that  the  collection  last 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  139 

year  was  the  largest  on  record,  whether  estimated  in  silver  or 
in  gold. 

The  death  of  the  Empress-Dowager  Lung  Yii,  niece  of  the 
more  famous  Empress-Dowager  Tzii  Hsi,  serves  to  call  to 
mind  the  depths  of  degradation  to  which  had  sunk  the  Court 
of  the  oldest  civilization  in  the  world,  one  or  two  thousand  years 
of  age.  Both  of  the  two  Empresses-Dowager  made  themselves 
practically  supreme.  Thereupon  the  warring  of  parties  in  the 
palace  became  incessant.  No  thought  was  taken  of  the  higher 
interests  of  the  nation,  or  even  of  the  family.  The  collapse  of  the 
Manchus  may  be  chiefly  attributed  to  the  intrigues  and  personal 
rivalries  which  had  become  the  sole  occupation  of  the  Court.  Two 
eunuchs  in  succession  became  the  wielders  of  such  powers  as  the 
Empresses  did  not  choose  to  exercise,  and  these,  in  their  turn, 
were  guilty  of  such  shameful  corruption  and  insolent  behavior 
that  their  names  became  bywords  in  the  capital;  and  yet  for  a 
long  time  there  was  no  one  strong  or  brave  enough  to  interfere. 
Their  traffic  in  high  offices  was  open  and  notorious.  Wonderful 
are  the  ways  of  Divine  Providence  which  thus  left  the  destinies 
of  some  four  hundred  millions  of  people  in  the  hands  of  the  lowest 
of  the  race;  still  more  wonderful  perhaps  is  it  that  for  so  many 
years  four  hundred  millions  of  people  submitted  to  such  a  rule. 
It  is,  therefore,  no  matter  for  surprise  that,  after  having  suffered 
so  long,  difficulties  should  arise  when  emancipation  has  been  se- 
cured; that  the  people  of  China  are  not  able  all  at  once  to  realize 
and  to  make  use  of  the  blessings  of  the  freedom  to  which  they 
have  at  last  attained. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  Mongolia  is  lost  irretrievably  to  the 
Empire.  What  is  the  exact  extent  of  the  territory  affected 
by  the  recent  Agreement  with  Russia  is  uncertain.  As 
to  Tibet  the  prospect  is  not  so  dark.  On  the  part  of  Great 
Britain,  there  is  no  disposition  to  give  any  further  support  to  the 
Tibetans  than  that  China  should  relinquish  the  recent  claim  to 
sovereignty  which  she  has  made,  and  be  content  with  the  suzerainty 
which  she  has  possessed  so  long.  No  opposition  will  be  offered 
to  China's  asserting  her  long-established  rights. 

Japan  has  been  passing  through  a  somewhat 

Japan.  trying  crisis.     Although  the  nation  possesses 

a  constitution,  the  executive  power  is  in  the 

hands  of  the  Emperor,  while  he  is  advised  by  a  Cabinet     It  is  fc> 


140  RECENT  EVENTS  [April, 

him  that  the  Cabinet  hitherto  has  been  responsible,  and  not  to 
Parliament;  therefore  the  practical  government  is  essentially  bu- 
reaucratic. This  state  of  things  is  proving  itself  unsatisfactory  to  a 
growing  number  of  the  members  of  the  Chamber  of  Representatives. 
These,  when  Prince  Katsura  returned  to  power  as  Premier  a 
few  weeks  ago,  offered  so  determined  an  opposition  to  him  that 
he  was  forced  to  resign.  He  was  looked  upon  as  the  chief  oppo- 
nent of  the  movement  for  increasing  the  power  of  the  Legislature. 
He  had,  indeed,  given  in  his  adhesion  to  this  principle,  but  little 
faith  was  placed  in  the  sincerity  of  his  convictions.  At  all  events, 
the  opposition  of  the  most  numerous  party  forced  him  to  resign 
within  a  few  weeks  after  his  having  taken  office.  The  whole 
country  has  been  affected  by  the  movement,  and  Tokyo  has  been 
the  scene  of  a  series  of  riots.  It  is  not  merely  the  irresponsible 
character  of  the  Cabinet  that  has  been  attacked.  The  part  hitherto 
taken  by  the  Elder  Statesmen  in  the  government  of  the  country 
is  also  declared  to  be  unconstitutional. 

After  a  great  deal  of  negotiation  a  Ministry  has  been  formed 
under  the  Premiership  of  Admiral  Yamamoto,  which  rests  for 
support  upon  the  coalition  of  two  parties  in  the  Parliament.  Its 
formation  is  the  first  explicit  recognition  that  Japan  is  at  length 
ripe  for  the  parliament's  control  of  the  executive,  and  that  no  gov- 
ernment should  exist  which  is  without  a  majority. 

What  led  to  the  crisis  was  the  urgent  necessity  felt  by  the 
Japanese  for  a  great  reduction  in  the  national  expenditure  on  the 
navy  and  army.  In  proportion  to  income,  Japan  is  the  most  heavily 
taxed  land  in  the  world.  The  Cabinet  which  preceded  that  of 
Prince  Katsura  had,  in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the  majority 
of  the  Chambers,  determined  to  reduce  this  expenditure,  but  its 
purpose  was  frustrated  by  the  opposition  of  the  army.  The  War 
Minister  resigned,  and  no  other  War  Minister  could  be  found. 
This  was  the  immediate  occasion  of  the  recent  movement  for  secur- 
ing the  people's  control  of  their  own  affairs ;  it  was  a  conflict  between 
the  army  and  the  nation.  The  new  Ministry  has  promised  to  pur- 
sue the  work  of  retrenchment  on  the  lines  laid  down  by  Prince 
Katsura's  predecessor.  As  Admiral  Yamamoto  is  without  expe- 
rience in  parliamentary  proceeding,  some  doubt  is  felt  as  to  his 
eventual  success. 


With  Our  Readers. 


A  FURTHER  happy  evidence  that  there  are  some  Americans 
determined  to  remove  the  curse  of  easy  divorce,  which  is 
undermining  the  moral  tone  of  the  nation,  and  which,  as  Father 
Kent  shows  in  his  article  in  this  issue  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  was 
cited  as  "the  horrible  example"  by  the  Minority  Report  of  the 
British  Commission  on  Divorce,  is  the  recent  defeat  by  the  New  York 
State  Senate  of  a  bill  which  sought  to  add  insanity  to  the  present 
statutory  ground  for  absolute  divorce  in  that  State. 

New  York  State  acknowledges  only  one  cause  for  absolute  divorce, 
and  that  is  adultery.  Senator  Foley,  in  opposing  the  bill,  said  "To 
weaken  even  in  the  smallest  particular  our  present  divorce  laws  would 
in  reality  be  a  step  towards  legalizing  polygamy." 


OUR  readers  will  be  pleased  to  know  that  His  Holiness,  Pope  Pius 
X.,  has  recently  decorated  one  who   frequently  contributes  to 
THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD — Miss  Emily  Hickey — with  the  gold  cross 
Pro  Ecclesia  et  Pontifice. 


exhaustive  study  of  the  origins  of  Newman's  Lead  Kindly 
Light  which  we  published  in  the  January  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  and 
the  two  recent  papers  on  The  Poetry  and  Prose  of  Lionel  Johnson, 
recall  the  verses,  not  widely  known,  written  on  the  great  Cardinal 
by  the  great  Catholic  poet.  The  poem  is  entitled  Falmouth  Harbour, 
and  its  second  half  is  as  follows.  The  first  line  refers  to  Newman's 
sailing  from  Falmouth : 

Hence,  by  stern  thoughts  and  strong  winds  borne, 
Voyaged,  with   faith  that  could  not   fail, 
Who  cried:  Lead,  kindly  Light!  forlorn 
Beneath  a  stranger  sail. 

Becalmed  upon  a  classic  sea; 
Wandering  through  eternal  Rome; 
Fighting  with  Death  in  Sicily; 
He  hungered   for  his  home. 

These  northern  waves,  these  island  airs! 
Dreams  of  these  haunted  his  full  heart: 
Their  love  inspired  his  songs  and  prayers, 
Bidding  him  play  his  part. 


I42  WITH  OUR  READERS  [April, 

The  freedom  of  the  living  dead; 
The  service  of  a  living  pain; 
He  chose  between  them,  bowed  his  head, 
And  counted  sorrow,  gain. 

Ah,  sweetest  soul  of  all !  whose  choice 
Was  golden  with  the  light  of  lights; 
But  us  doubt's  melancholy  voice, 
Wandering  in  gloom,  unites. 

Ah,  sweetest  soul  of  all!  whose  voice 
Hailed  morning,  and  the  sun's  increase: 
We  of  the  restless  night  rejoice, 
We  also,  at  thy  peace. 


IT  is  a  very  hopeful  sign  to  note  the  almost  unanimous  protest  of 
the  secular  press  of  our  country  against  the  insolent  proceedings 
of  the  Social  Vice  Investigating  Committees  now  at  work  throughout 
the  land.  The  great  dailies,  which  are  surely,  if  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  of  circulation,  on  the  side  of  every  movement  making  for 
popular  welfare,  have  emphatically  said  that  the  methods  and  the  rul- 
ings of  these  Vice  Committees  are  making  a  mockery  of  social  reform. 
They  have  not  hesitated  to  call  "  minimum  minded  "  many  of  these  so- 
called  reformers  who  ignorantly  discuss  a  minimum  wage. 

*  *  *  *  * 

NO  man  of  Christian  heart  will  fail  to  protest  against  such  condi- 
tions as,  for  example,  are  known  by  Legislative  Report  to  exist 
among  the  textile  workers  of  the  Mohawk  Valley,  New  York.  The 
average  weekly  wage  among  them  is,  for  men,  $9.00  per  week,  and  for 
women,  $7.50.  The  conditions  of  their  dwellings ;  the  inhuman  crowd- 
ing that  makes  "  family  privacy  a  thing  largely  unknown,"  demand  the 
active  interest  and  protest  of  every  man  who  loves  his  fellows.  This 
investigation  at  Little  Falls ;  the  numerous  Government  and  State  Re- 
ports ;  the  Reports  of  Civic  Commissions  that  have  made  it  known  that 
we  are  by  no  means  the  "land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave," 
are  welcomed  because  no  community  can  face  them  unashamed  or  per- 
mit them  to  go  uncorrected.  And  no  matter  how  much  it  costs ;  no  mat- 
ter whom  it  hurts,  these  evil  and  unjust  conditions  ought  to  be  made 
known,  that  justice  may  be  done. 

"  Rights  must  be  religiously  respected  wherever  they  exist ;  and  it 
is  the  duty  of  the  public  authority  to  prevent  and  to  punish  injury, 
and  to  protect  every  one  in  the  possession  of  his  own.  Still  when  there 
is  a  question  of  defending  the  rights  of  individuals,  the  poor  and  help- 
less have  a  claim  to  especial  consideration Wage  earners,  who  are 

undoubtedly  among  the  weak  and  necessitous,  should  be  specially  cared 
for  and  protected  by  the  Government." 


1913]  WITH  OUR  READERS  143 

Justice,  as  Leo  XIII.  wrote,  must  be  done  first  to  the  poor,  because 
the  poor,  not  being  the  mighty  and  powerful  of  this  world,  are  the 
least  able  to  protect  themselves.  They  are  not  able  to  protect  them- 
selves in  their  property  rights ;  they  seem  less  able  to  protect  themselves 
just  now  in  their  moral  rights.  A  poor  man  has  just  as  keen  a  sease 
of  his  good  name  as  the  rich  man.  His  sense  of  dignity  and  personal 
worth  are  just  as  great.  He  is  no  more  willing  to  sell  himself  than 
the  rich  man  is.  Indeed  the  reports  of  the  committees  that  have  in- 
vestigated bribery  in  high  legislatures,  or  of  corruption  in  cities,  point 
to  the  fact  that  it  is  not  the  poor  but  the  rich  who  must  bear  the  guilt 
and  the  shame.  Apart,  therefore,  from  the  ridiculous  assertion  that 
high  wages  in  themselves  make  a  man  moral  and  low  wages  are  the 
cause  of  sin  and  crime, .  or  as  a  brazen  woman  "  reformer,"  and  the 
head  of  a  Committee  on  Safety,  has  stated,  "  it  is  an  open  moral  ques- 
tion whether  or  not  a  woman  who  receives  a  low  wage  may  give  herself 
to  a  life  of  sin  " — apart  from  all  this,  which  is  enough  to  nauseate 
tke  right  thinking — we  protest  against  the  manner  in  which  the  poor, 
as  a  class,  are  ruthlessly  used  for  experimental  purposes  in  the  clinics 
of  these  investigating  committees.  In  the  name  of  reform,  and  with 
a  paternalism  that  rouses  the  wrath  of  an  honest  man,  the  members 
of  the  committee  make  the  poor  and  the  wage  earner  the  pitiable  sub- 
jects of  their  questionings.  No  incident  or  circumstance  of  their  life 
is  left  unexposed  to  the  public. 

***** 

IN  their  name  wretched  criminals  and  sinners — who  are  such  not 
because  they  were  poor  but  because  they  were,  as  we  all  are,  weak 
— are  brought  to  the  witness  stand,  and  actually  urged  to  state  that 
poverty  was  the  cause  of  their  downfall.  It  is  one  tribute  of  respect 
at  least,  to  poverty  because  poverty  is  considered  to  be  a  respectable 
excuse.  And  the  sins  of  all  these  are  shouldered  upon  the  poor;  and 
we  are  told  that  the  poor  are,  if  not  the  most  sinful,  at  least  likely  to  be 
the  most  sinful  of  all  classes  of  modern  society. 

Better  to  have  no  reforms  than  to  have  such  reforms  as  these. 
Better  never  to  have  a  just  wage  than  to  do  man  the  injustice  of  say- 
ing that  he  puts  wages  above  virtue,  and  that  the  one  great  value 
with  him  is  a  money  value.  No  more  debasing  and  hopeless  message 
could  be  read  to  man's  soul. 

Through  the  ballot;  through  the  platform;  in  society  meetings; 
in  daily  conversation  at  business  or  in  the  sitting  room  or  in  the 
street,  there  is  desperate  need  that  every  man  raise  his  voice  against 
this  most  un-American  and  tyrannical  proceeding  by  which  legally 
constituted  Commissions  are  making  the  poor  the  reason  and  the  excuse 
for  crime,  and  leading  the  young  to  believe  that  sin  is  not  sin,  but  only 
an  economic  necessity. 


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THE 


CATHOLIC  WORLD 


VOL.  XCVII. 


MAY,  1913. 


No.  578. 


THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM.* 


BY    WILLIAM    J.    KERBY,    PH.D. 

LJR  attitudes,  as  well  as  men  and  books,  have  pedi- 
gree. That  a  man  thinks  as  he  does  to-day ;  that  he 
is  Democrat,  Republican,  Labor  Unionist  or  Social- 
ist is  the  outcome  of  the  inter-play  of  many  forces 
which  are,  in  only  a  secondary  way,  under  his  con- 
trol. That  a  man  knows  these  facts  and  not  those;  that  he  views 
them  in  one  light  and  not  in  another;  that  he  argues  well  or 
badly;  that  he  is  intense  or  apathetic,  will  enter  vitally  into  the 
attitudes  which  he  takes  on  questions  as  they  present  themselves 
to  him.  The  manner  of  one's  education,  the  place  in  life  from 
which  one  looks  out  on  life,  aspirations  which  have  been  fostered, 
and  illusions  which  have  been  removed,  must  be  explored  and  cata- 
logued before  we  may  understand  a  man's  thinking  and  feeling. 
One  who  takes  an  acute  interest  in  governmental  questions  will 
take  aggressive  attitudes  toward  them.  One  who  takes  little  in- 
terest in  such  questions  will  escape  such  attitudes.  In  each  case 
the  whole  range  of  life  will  be  affected.  "  A  great  many  of  our 
assents  are  merely  expressions  of  our  personal  likings,  tastes,  prin- 
ciples, motives,  and  opinions,  as  dictated  by  nature,  or  resulting 
from  habit;  in  other  words,  they  are  acts  and  manifestations  of 
self.  Now  what  is  more  rare  than  self-knowledge?  In  proportion 
then  to  our  ignorance  of  self,  is  our  unconsciousness  of  those  in- 

*Quotations  are  taken  from  Newman's  Grammar  of  Assent.  See  also  The 
Dolphin,  November,  1903,  and  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  February,  April,  May,  1911, 
for  related  articles  on  Socialism  and  Private  Property. 

Copyright.     1913.     THE  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  OF  ST.  PAUL  THE  APOSTLE 

IN  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 
VOL.  XCVIT. — 10. 


I46  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

numerable  acts  of  assent  which  we  are  incessantly  making." 
Hence  it  is  that  assent  or  dissent  in  respect  of  current  social  move- 
ments will  be  governed  very  largely  by  personal  history,  experience, 
and  imagination;  by  the  mental  processes  of  the  individual;  by  the 
outfit  of  existing  thoughts,  principles,  likings,  desires,  and  hopes 
which  make  men  what  they  are.  We  gravitate  toward  what  is 
mentally  clear,  and  away  from  what  is  obscure.  We  are  intolerant, 
sometimes  because  we  understand  and  sometimes  because  we  do 
not  understand.  Defense  against  argument  is  simple,  but  pro- 
tection against  impressions  is  almost  beyond  us.  Social  move- 
ments which  appeal  to  the  imagination  and  to  personal  or  class 
experience,  which  deal  boldly  and  confidently  with  profound  aspira- 
tions, and  abandon  the  reserves  born  of  accuracy  and  caution,  are 
clothed  with  all  but  unconquerable  power.  Argument  is  of  little 
avail  against  them.  Bacon  was  not  in  error  in  attributing  much 
influence  to  the  idols  of  the  Tribe,  the  Cave,  the  Market  Place,  and 
the  Theatre  which  beset  men's  minds  and  sway  them. 

Social  movements  are  not  of  arbitrary  origin.  They  are  rather 
the  products  of  forces  at  work  in  national  life.  The  extent  to 
which  any  popular  movement  succeeds,  indicates  the  general  readi- 
ness of  the  people  to  accept  it,  which  readiness  is  neither  produced 
at  will  nor  suppressed  by  command.  A  popular  movement  must  be 
viewed  in  the  background  of  its  own  history.  In  the  thirteenth 
century,  even  economic  movements  took  on  the  color  of  spiritual 
rebellion,  because  the  authority  of  the  Church  touched  all  sides 
of  life.  In  the  twentieth  century,  all  social  rebellion  takes  on  the 
color  of  the  defense  against  capital,  because  of  its  widely-estab- 
lished ascendancy.  What,  then,  is  the  national  background  in  which 
we  should  judge  Socialism?  How  can  we  account  for  the  assent 
to  it,  when  that  assent  involves  an  apparent  departure  from  the 
standards  of  our  civilization  and  its  ideals,  from  the  political  prin- 
ciples and  historical  wisdom  on  which  the  framework  of  national 
life  is  based? 

I. 

I  am  aware  that  the  Socialist  movement  is  not  as  fixed  and 
definite  as  the  words  which  describe  it.  Just  as  the  wedge  has  point 
and  head,  likewise  Socialism  has  its  narrow,  starved,  economic 
meaning,  and  also  its  wider  and  deeper  phases  which  include  many 
ugly  affinities  and  hideous  implications.  On  its  own  repeated  ad- 
missions, Socialism  cannot  prevent  itself  from  becoming  something 
other  than  Socialism.  Its  attempted  repudiation  of  atheism  and 


1913-]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  147 

free  love  is  a  striking  admission  of  its  own  inability  to  control 
the  mental  processes  of  its  votaries.  We  know  thoroughly  well  that 
Socialism  cannot  account  for  its  own  origin.  Forces  other  than 
Socialism  prepare  the  way  for  it.  If,  then,  on  the  one  hand,  it 
cannot  account  for  its  own  origin,  and,  on  the  other,  it  cannot 
confine  itself  to  its  professed  limitations,  we  are  forced  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  simply  cannot  account  for  itself.  Making  allowance 
for  all  of  this,  we  may  endeavor  to  discuss  it  in  its  least  offensive 
sense,  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  willing  to  make  its  own  apology. 
Thus  restricted,  Socialism  may  be  regarded  as  resting  on  the  fol- 
lowing three  fundamental  assumptions: 

The  present  social  order  is  bankrupt. 

The  private  ownership  of  capital  is  the  cause  of  this  bank- 
ruptcy. 

The  collective  ownership  of  capital  is  the  sole  adequate  remedy. 

An  individual's  mind  which  accepts  these  three  assumptions 
embraces  Socialism.  Up  to  a  certain  point,  all  antecedent  prob- 
abilities hinder  these  assumptions  from  entering  his  mind.  Grad- 
ually, and  probably  unconsciously,  they  insinuate  themselves  until 
all  antecedent  probabilities  were  overturned.  After  that  experi- 
ence, assumptions,  views,  preferences,  interpretations,  associations, 
arrange  themselves  in  an  orderly  manner,  re-enforcing  the  assump- 
tions of  Socialism  until  they  become  solid  as  axioms  and  undoubting 
as  consciousness  itself.  One  sees  electric  fans,  which  automatically 
reverse  themselves  by  the  throwing  of  a  lever  which  is  effected  by 
the  contrary  motion  of  itself.  All  operations  of  mind  are  reversed 
once  the  antecedent  probabilities  are  turned  toward  Socialism  in- 
stead of  against  it.  There  is  in  the  assent  to  Socialism  a  "  sur- 
plusage of  assurance  "  much  as  there  is  in  Marx's  economic  theory 
a  surplusage  of  value  back  of  capitalistic  accumulation.  "  Some- 
times our  mind  changes  so  quickly,  so  unaccountably,  so  dispro- 
portionately to  any  tangible  arguments  to  which  the  change  can  be 
referred,  and  with  such  abiding  recognition  of  the  forces  of  the  old 
arguments,  as  to  suggest  the  suspicion  that  moral  causes,  arising 
out  of  our  condition,  age,  company,  occupations,  fortunes,  are 
at  the  bottom."  We  should  not  forget  "  How  little  syllogisms 
have  to  do  with  the  formation  of  opinion;  how  little  depends  upon 
the  inferential  proofs,  and  how  much  upon  those  pre-existing 
beliefs  and  views  in  which  men  either  already  agree  with  each 
other  or  hopelessly  differ,  before  they  begin  to  dispute,  and  which 
are  hidden  deep  in  our  nature,  or,  it  may  be,  in  our  personal 
peculiarities." 


148  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

If  Socialism  had  without  aid  established  its  three  fundamental 
assumptions  in  the  minds  of  its  believers,  the  achievement  would  be 
a  marvel  in  human  history.  Socialism  did  not  do  it  and  could 
not  do  it.  The  transition  from  one  social  philosophy  to  another, 
from  one  interpretation  to  another,  is  gradual  and  not  abrupt. 
It  is  effected  by  the  likeness  or  identity  of  the  two  systems,  and 
not  by  differences  between  them.  The  foundations  of  Socialism  lie 
deep  in  our  social  life.  Marx  himself  took  the  most  orthodox 
economic  doctrine  of  his  time  to  construct  his  theory  of  revolution- 
ary Socialism. 

The  first  assumption — the  present  social  order  is  bankrupt — 
expresses  unqualified  despair  of  our  leaders,  of  the  administration 
of  our  laws  and  their  enactment,  of  the  institutions  on  which  the 
social  order  rests,  and  of  the  constitution  itself,  under  whose  spirit 
and  warrant  the  feeling,  thinking,  and  judgment  of  the  people  are 
guided.  Despair  is  the  single  gateway  to  Socialism.  Confidence 
is  the  angel  with  flaming  sword  which  drives  Socialism  from  our 
gates.  The  process  of  disturbing  confidence  in  the  elements  of 
our  social  order  has  operated,  and  it  operates  to-day,  independent 
of  Socialism.  We  are  all  familiar  with  the  vocabulary  of  current 
abuse  and  criticism.  All  of  us  indulge  indiscriminately  in  the  joy 
of  denunciation.  If  a  conservative  scholar  proclaims  that  society 
is  ethically  bankrupt  without  shocking  us;  if  not  a  few  proclaim 
that  our  public  school  system  is  bankrupt,  and  our  own  experience 
tends  to  prove  the  charge;  if  very  conservative  religious  leaders 
tell  us  that  society  is  near  to  spiritual  bankruptcy;  if  conservatives 
in  most  exalted  stations  tell  us  that  the  administration  of  our  crim- 
inal law  is  bankrupt  and  a  disgrace  to  civilization;  if  vilification, 
incrimination,  and  complaint  are  practically  universal  in  political, 
literary,  and  journalistic  circles,  we  must  admit  that  minds  and  ears 
are  well  prepared  to  hear  without  shock  or  recoil  the  declaration 
that  the  political  and  industrial  order  is  bankrupt.  When  this 
last  assumption  is  established  in  a  mind,  it  has  taken  its  first  step 
toward  Socialism. 

That  is,  however,  only  a  first  step.  The  second  assumption — 
the  private  ownership  of  capital  is  the  cause  of  this  bankruptcy — 
definitely  indicates  that  capital  is  the  rock  on  which  the  hopes 
of  society  have  been  shipwrecked.  The  third  assumption — the 
collective  ownership  of  capital  is  the  sole  adequate  remedy — pro- 
poses the  single  remedy  through  which  it  is  alleged  social  justice  may 
be  secured.  Any  of  us  might  agree  with  the  first  assumption, 
while  at  the  same  time  dissenting  fundamentally  as  to  the  second 


1913.]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  149 

and  the  third.  We  might  allow,  for  instance,  that  to  a  great  extent 
there  is  truth  in  the  first  two  assumptions  of  Socialism.  We  might 
find  them  partly  true,  but  largely  false.  We  might  propose  that 
sin,  passion,  unconquerable  ignorance,  love  of  power,  inability  to 
coordinate  social  effort  and  control  it  while  allowing  human  liberty 
its  play,  and  the  inherent  limitations  of  human  nature  must  be 
associated  through  and  with  capital  in  explaining  social  disorder, 
and  that  provision  must  be  made  against  these  as  well  as  against 
abuse  of  capital  in  the  social  reform  toward  which  our  aspirations 
drive  us. 

If  it  requires  much  knowledge,  trained  judgment,  mental  re- 
straint, and  tedious  effort  at  interpretation,  to  discover  and  asso- 
ciate in  right  proportion  the  causes  of  social  injustice,  we  are  at 
a  disadvantage  in  attempting  to  hinder  the  general  acceptance  of 
Socialism's  assumptions.  The  average  experience  of  the  multitude 
unfortunately  tends  to  corroborate  the  socialistic  indictment  of 
capital.  The  undeniable  abuses  to  which  the  laboring  classes  have 
been  subjected  are  due  primarily  to  capital  and  to  the  capitalistic 
view  of  life,  of  human  rights  and  progress.  The  undeniable  horrors 
that  have  dogged  the  footsteps  of  millions  have  shown  that,  in 
the  case  of  many  of  these,  the  social  order  is  bankrupt,  and  that 
the  private  ownership  of  capital  is  the  cause  of  that  bankruptcy. 
These  facts  place  us  conservatives  at  a  marked  disadvantage  in 
attempting  to  hinder  the  propaganda  of  Socialism  from  establish- 
ing its  two  assumptions.  Since  most  of  the  reforms  which  we  are 
accomplishing  rest  directly  on  the  curbing  of  capital,  it  is  not  un- 
natural that  the  impetuous  imagination  of  the  people  would  in- 
cline toward  the  assumption  that  all  social  injustice  may  be  ended 
by  taking  over  the  control  of  capital  entirely  in  the  interests  of  the 
people  themselves.  Unless  established  social  order  can  retain  the 
confidence  of  the  masses,  nothing  can  hinder  the  ultimate  triumph 
of  Socialism.  It  is  attempting  to  rob  the  people  of  that  confidence. 
We  conservatives  endeavor  to  maintain  it  in  undiminished  force. 
All  other  issues  are  secondary  to  this  one.  All  of  the  processes 
on  which  we  depend  derive  their  efficiency ,  from  their  power  to 
protect  popular  Confidence  in  the  institutions  of  industry  and 
government. 

II. 

The  prudent  janitor  of  a  certain  public  building  once  nailed  its 
outside  windows  in  order  to  prevent  the  opening  of  them  during 
the  winter.  He  believed  that  if  the  windows  were  opened,  coal 


iSo  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

would  be  wasted  in  heating  the  fresh,  cool  air  as  it  entered.  He 
was  under  the  impression  that  only  space,  and  not  air,  was  necessary 
for  breathing.  Confidence  is  the  atmosphere  in  which  practically 
all  social  institutions  and  relations  thrive.  Mere  establishment 
means  as  little  to  the  social  order  as  space  without  air  means  to 
respiration.  No  institution  can  survive  the  withdrawal  of  con- 
fidence, unless  it  be  supported  by  an  army. 

Confidence  between  man  and  wife  makes  marriage  possible, 
while  suspicion,  distrust,  and  accusation  destroy  happiness  and 
unity.  Confidence  makes  possible  normal  relations  between  parents 
and  children.  It  is  the  essence  of  friendship.  It  is  the  foundation 
of  business,  of  all  forms  of  credit,  of  all  systems  of  currency. 
It  enters  into  the  very  heart  of  our  industrial  operations.  Con- 
fidence is  the  source  of  the  power  of  the  priesthood,  although  not, 
of  course,  its  sanction.  Confidence  of  man  in  man  makes  possible 
communication,  language,  social  life.  Normal  social  relations  de- 
pend, therefore,  on  the  capacity  and  willingness  of  men  and  women 
to  believe  one  another,  to  trust  one  another,  to  cooperate  with  one 
another.  Suspicion  and  distrust,  vilification  and  scorn,  failure 
to  merit  confidence  and  receive  it,  failure  to  give  confidence  and 
inability  to  maintain  it,  disintegrate  social  relations  with  unfailing 
power.  Jails  and  penitentiaries  show  us  the  type  of  social  relation 
which  results  when  man  may  not  trust  his  fellowman. 

Democratic  philosophy  teaches  us  that  the  stability  of  govern- 
ment rests  immediately  on  the  intelligence  and  moral  integrity  of 
its  citizens.  Democracy  rests  on  confidence  in  the  people,  just  as 
the  limitations  of  democracy  indicate  the  restrictions  of  that  same 
confidence.  Government  fears  bad  men  because  they  will  betray 
confidence  which  is  bestowed  upon  them.  Government  fears  ignor- 
ant men  because  these  lack  the  open-eyed  discretion  which  places 
expected  reservation  on  the  giving  of  confidence.  Government  fos- 
ters education,  religion,  and  culture,  and  cultivates  noble  heroes  and 
heroines,  because  these  aid  powerfully  in  producing  types  of  char- 
acter and  intelligence  which  make  stable  the  social  order. 

The  constitution  under  which  the  people  are  governed  will 
be  powerful  to  the  extent  to  which  it  is  believed  in.  The  institu- 
tions, through  which  national  life  is  directed,  will  be  effective  in 
proportion  as  they  merit  confidence  and  receive  it.  Laws  which 
are  enacted  in  obedience  to  the  limitations  and  the  spirit  of  the 
institutions,  will  accomplish  their  end  only  when  reenforced  by 
the  mighty  confidence  of  a  trusting  people.  The  administration 
of  laws  will  be  wise  and  faithful  in  proportion  as  leaders  bring 


1913-]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  151 

to  the  performance  of  their  duties  the  intelligence  and  integrity 
of  character  which  invites  and  holds  popular  confidence. 

Of  course,  political  confidence  may  not  be  without  its  reserves. 
Lack  of  intelligence  and  lack  of  integrity  will  occur  at  times  every- 
where. Institutions  will  require  modification  from  time  to  time, 
and  constitutions  themselves  must  be  amended.  Provision  for 
change  in  leadership  by  limited  terms  of  office,  for  repeal  of  laws, 
for  modifying  institutions,  and  amending  constitutions  belongs 
essentially  to  all  accepted  patterns  of  democratic  government. 
Hence,  we  may  and  we  will  surrender  confidence  from  time  to  time 
in  this  or  in  that  leader,  in  this  or  in  that  legislature,  in  this  or 
in  that  feature  of  an  institution.  But,  on  the  whole,  our  talent 
for  giving  confidence  will  not  be  impaired ;  our  habit  of  trusting  in 
the  essential  elements  of  social  order  will  not  be  interrupted  by  these 
occasional,  sporadic,  and  superficial  incursions  of  distrust,  doubt, 
and  demand  for  change.  Nature  works  with  a  high  factor  of 
safety.  She  stores  her  deep  reservoirs  with  unmeasured  social 
confidence,  slowly,  painfully,  and  with  uninterrupted  determina- 
tion. She  protects  those  reservoirs  at  every  point.  She  is  quick 
and  nervous,  watchful  and  wakeful  in  hindering  losses  of  it.  When 
she  discovers  that  confidence  is  being  disturbed  at  a  rapid  rate,  and 
that  the  storehouses  from  which  she  draws  it  are  being  closed 
to  her,  she  stands,  if  not  hopeless,  at  least  helpless,  in  the  face  of 
disaster  which  her  instincts  foretell.  In  proof  of  this  one  might 
cite  the  gloomy  foreboding  of  many  a  non-Catholic  conservative, 
who  believes  that  only  the  Catholic  Church  is  equipped  to  prevent 
the  nation  from  rushing  headlong  into  Socialism. 

Indiscriminate  abuse  of  our  public  leaders  has  been  for  years 
robbing  the  people  of  the  will  and  of  the  capacity  to  trust  any 
leadership  which  represents  past  establishment.  Indiscriminate 
criticism,  reenforced  by  the  discovery  of  many  unhappy  facts,  has 
robbed  multitudes  of  all  wholesome  confidence  in  the  administra- 
tion of  laws  and  in  the  process  of  their  enactment.  Abuse,  denun- 
ciation, and  ridicule,  supported  by  cartoons,  statistics,  and  oratory, 
have  led  many,  many  thousands  into  an  attitude  of  serious  doubt, 
if  not  repudiation,  of  the  fundamental  institutions  on  which  our 
civilization  rests.  Private  property,  competition,  the  courts,  indus- 
trial liberty,  the  ballot,  and  the  institutions  of  representation  stand 
out  under  a  plausible  indictment  which  many  hundreds  of  thousands 
believe. 

The  Democratic  press,  the  Republican  press,  the  Progressive 
press,  the  labor  press,  the  muckraking  press;  campaign  literature, 


i52  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

campaign  methods,  and  speeches;  tons  of  literature  pouring 
forth  from  publishing  houses,  and  even  government  committees, 
maintain  a  course  of  searching  indictment  of  the  foundations  of  the 
social  order,  each  from  its  own  standpoint,  and  for  its  own  purpose, 
yet  all  of  them  concurring  in  their  adverse  influence  on  popular  con- 
fidence in  our  institutions.  It  is  commonplace  to  observe  that  our 
masses  do  not  trust  our  culture,  that  laborers  do  not  trust  employers, 
that  the  public  looks  upon  financial  leaders  as  pirates.*  A  strong 
mental  effort  is  necessary  to  enable  us  to  believe  in  the  good  inten- 
tions of  a  rich  man  who  enters  politics.  Legislatures  are  not 
trusted,  executives  are  suspected,  courts  are  reviled ;  the  bar  receives 
credit  for  cunning,  but  not  for  honesty,  and  for  the  betrayal  of 
popular  welfare  in  the  interest  of  predatory  wealth.  Wit,  humor, 
and  caricature,  scholarship  and  oratory,  art,  music,  and  poetry, 
history  and  science,  are  brought  into  the  campaign  of  despair,  and 
they  do  their  work  well. 

We  need  not,  for  a  moment,  consider  how  much  there  is  of 
truth  and  how  much  of  falsehood  in  this  volume  of  criticism,  de- 
nunciation, and  distrust.  Impressions  do  not  depend  on  the  truth 
for  their  origin  or  their  power.  If  we  take  the  first  fundamental 
assumption  of  Socialism,  namely,  that  the  present  social  order 
is  bankrupt,  and  view  it  in  this  background,  we  must  admit  that 
it  appears  to  be  the  simple,  logical,  and  expected  outcome  of  the 
alleged  conditions.  From  unquestioning  confidence  in  our  insti- 
tutions and  undisturbed  acceptance  of  them,  easy  transition  may 
be  experienced  into  an  attitude  of  disturbed  and  hesitating  alle- 
giance. From  this  point  the  transition  to  simple  repudiation  is 
not  complicated  nor  unexpected.  When  one  loses  one's  "  unim- 
paired certainties,"  one  may  drift  in  any  direction.  When  the 
propaganda  of  Socialism  takes  its  place  in  the  present  scheme 
of  things,  it  finds  the  ground  well  prepared.  The  natural  mental 
processes  of  large  numbers  meet  it  half  way,  and  they  gladly  accept 
its  undoubting  guidance  in  the  search  for  social  peace.  Only  as 
confidence  in  the  established  order  is  disturbed  or  destroyed,  is  it 
possible  for  Socialism  to  make  headway. 


III. 

Parallel  with  this  diminishing  confidence  in  government  and 
law,  there  is  found  an  increasing  dependence  on  them  in  even  our 

*  Senator  Root  called  attention  to  this  aspect  of  our  national  life  in  a  striking 
speech  before  the  New  York  Chamber  of  Commerce,  November  21,  1912. 


1913.]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  153 

simplest  industrial  and  social  relations.  We  have  ceased  to  depend 
on  character  and  intelligence  in  nearly  all  of  our  commercial  trans- 
actions. We  depend  on  law  to  get  pure  milk.  Law  regulates 
almost  every  detail  in  factory  and  mine.  Law  enters  homes,  meas- 
ures windows  and  the  cubic  air  space  to  be  provided.  A  public 
officer  removes  the  drinking  glass  from  our  sleeping  cars;  gives 
or  withholds  permission  to  widen  our  back  porches ;  sends  children 
from  the  streets  in  the  evening.  Law  controls,  in  last  detail,  the 
labeling,  weighing,  and  measuring,  and  regulates  the  quality  of 
practically  everything  that  we  consume.  We  are  so  habituated 
to  this  experience  that  we  have  recourse  to  law  habitually,  as  a 
first  remedy  instead  of  as  a  last  one.  Government,  law,  public 
officers  have  entered  so  extensively  and  so  minutely  into  every 
phase  of  our  lives,  that  we  are  losing  the  instinct  for  personal  liberty, 
and  settling  down  to  a  civilization  built  on  the  hollow  foundations 
of  legal  enactment. 

A  simple  country  shoemaker  obeyed  a  very  elementary  pro- 
cess of  mind  and  experience  when  he  suggested  to  the  writer,  not 
long  since,  that  there  is  no  more  hope  for  the  workingman.  He 
added  that  our  salvation  wrill  come  only  when  the  government  takes 
hold  and  fixes  the  prices  at  which  all  necessaries  of  life  may  be 
sold.  The  man  was  not,  to  his  own  way  of  thinking,  a  Socialist, 
but  the  preparatory  work  had  been  done.  The  paternalistic  expe- 
rience of  government,  through  which  we  are  going,  does  its  own 
work  in  simplifying  the  way  for  the  omnipresent  and  omnipotent 
state  into  which  Socialism  would  drift.  I  do  not  pause  to  attempt 
to  resolve  the  paradox  which  this  description  involves. 


IV. 

There  is  another  factor  in  the  background  of  Socialism.  The 
process  of  life  is  ironing  out  into  flat  and  unrelieved  monotony 
the  experience  of  multitudes.  Men  and  women  are  ceasing  to  think 
as  individuals.  They  think  and  feel,  nowadays,  in  battalions. 
Class  consciousness  is  strong.  The  attempt  to  build  up  movements 
on  class  consciousness  is  far  more  profoundly  justified  than  the  legal 
fictions  which  condemn  it.  The  distress  through  which  working- 
men  and  workmen's  families  pass,  the  tyranny  which  they  have  ex- 
perienced, and  the  crude  injustice  to  which  they  have  been  subjected; 
the  forces  which  throw  them  hither  and  thither  in  our  social  and 
economic  life;  the  environment  in  which  they  have  been  compelled 
to  live  insulated  from  the  vitalizing  streams  of  culture,  joy,  and 


I54  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

hope  which  flow  past  them  have  been  so  nearly  alike  in  origin, 
in  operation,  and  in  outcome  that  these  classes  have  been  welded 
together  to  an  extent  into  a  solid  consciousness  which  dominates 
both  thought  and  speech. 

We  can  easily  perceive  in  the  mass  what  we  miss  in  the  unit. 
Class  experience,  class  observation,  class  feeling,  class  aspirations, 
class  ideals  have  prepared  the  multitude  for  unified  thinking  and 
unified  feeling.  In  this  way  great  numbers  have  been  prepared 
admirably  for  the  propaganda  of  Socialism.  Its  fundamental  as- 
sumptions take  on  strength  as  we  widen  the  social  surface  to 
which  they  are  applied.  Few  men  who  think  and  feel  strongly  as 
individuals,  and  who  shut  out  the  larger  sympathies  from  the 
circle  of  their  thinking  and  feeling,  will  be  profoundly  impressed 
by  the  fundamental  assumptions  of  Socialism.  On  the  other  hand, 
few  men  who  are  governed  by  the  outlook,  the  feeling,  the  history, 
and  the  consciousness  of  class,  can  fail  to  be  impressed  by  those 
assumptions.  We,  conservatives,  in  our  defense  of  institutions 
are  compelled  to  be  individualistic,  fragmentary,  and  unsystematic, 
while  our  reforms  are,  when  most  successful,  only  palliative.  We 
are  compelled  to  talk  against  the  deeper  feeling  and  the  experience 
of  laboring  men,  when  we  attempt  to  make  out  a  case  against 
Socialism. 

The  more  clear  we  are  in  feeling  and  thinking,  the  less  toler- 
ant we  are.  The  multitude  craves  finality  and  simplicity.  Axioms 
are  liked  better  than  problems.  The  people  dislike  hesitation,  qual- 
ification, reserve.  They  can  withdraw  confidence,  but  they  cannot 
retain  it.  They  must  give  it  to  some  thing  or  to  some  one.  They 
will  trust  a  formula  just  as  readily  as  a  genius.  It  requires  far 
less  mental  effort  to  believe  that  everything  has  gone  wrong,  than 
to  hold  that  many  things  have  gone  wrong,  that  many  are  going 
right,  and  that  in  a  hundred  tedious  ways  something  can  be  done 
to  improve  conditions.  It  requires  less  mental  effort  to  blame 
everything  that  is  wrong  upon  one  single  force  or  agency,  than  to 
believe  that  many  complex  forces,  acting  in  highly  complex  relations, 
cause  the  evils  which  we  deplore.  It  requires  far  less  energy  of 
mind  and  reservation  of  thought,  far  less  self-control  and  discipline 
of  intellect,  to  believe  in  one  simple  formula  as  a  remedy,  than  to 
repose  confidence  in  the  doubtful  coordination  of  a  hundred  un- 
certain social  forces.  Hence,  assuming  that  the  multitude  is 
aroused  and  thinking,  assuming  further  that  it  is  shaping  certain 
standards  of  social  justice  and  judging  life  by  them,  the  assump- 
tions of  Socialism  appeal  to  their  experience,  to  their  mental  con- 


1913-]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  155 

stitution  and  preferences,  and  to  their  class  consciousness.  We 
conservatives  can  weaken  the  appeal  only  by  elaborate  reasoning, 
much  knowledge,  and  endless  qualifications  in  our  statements.  The 
progress  of  Socialism  is  not  surprising. 


V. 

He  who  gives  little  thought  to  fundamental  questions  of  gov- 
ernment, and  who  is  fortunate  in  his  career,  is  undoubtedly  shocked 
on  meeting  for  the  first  time  the  Socialist  claim  that  the  present 
social  order  is  bankrupt.  His  every  faculty  revolts  against  the 
form  and  spirit  of  the  claim.  It  appears  ridiculous,  fantastic, 
unworthy  of  attention,  and  therefore  self -refuting. 

One  who  has  had  severe  experience  in  life,  who  has  been  com- 
pelled to  struggle  and  to  live  through  hardships,  uncertainties,  and 
unrelieved  dependence  on  the  orders  of  unsympathetic  employers, 
is  not  shocked  on  hearing  for  the  first  time  these  assumptions  of 
Socialism.  While  one  may  not  be  drawn  toward  it,  one  is  not 
conscious  of  any  particular  recoil  against  it.  If  in  addition  to 
the  distressing  and  bitter  experience  in  life,  one  have  the  habit  of 
observing,  discussing,  and  reflecting  seriously  on  the  bitterness,  all 
of  the  distress,  all  of  the  injustice,  all  of  the  helpless  misery  that 
the  life  about  us  holds,  one  is  undoubtedly  disposed  to  find  very 
much  truth  in  the  initial  assumptions  of  Socialism. 

Once  the  minds  of  great  numbers  of  citizens  are  aroused,  and 
their  imagination  is  seized  by  the  realization  of  the  tragedy,  the 
injustice,  and  the  disappointments  of  life  as  a  whole,  those  minds 
are  driven  by  the  law  of  their  nature  to  find  an  explanation  and  a 
remedy.  If  we  conservatives  can  offer  an  explanation  which  catches 
the  imagination  and  satisfies  it,  and  if  we  can  offer  a  remedy  which 
is  reasonable,  definite,  and  not  too  difficult  of  introduction,  we 
can  satisfy  those  aroused  minds,  and  they  will  remain  relatively 
conservative.  But  if  we  fail  either  to  impress  our  explanation 
of  social  injustice  on  popular  imagination,  or  if  we  remain  idle 
while  the  more  zealous  radical  is  busy,  or  if  we  present  our  mes- 
sage in  a  form,  or  in  a  tone,  which  does  not  ring  true  to  the 
disturbed  minds  that  we  aim  to  serve,  we  labor  in  vain.  The 
field  of  battle  to-day  is  here.  The  masses  are  thinking  on  funda- 
mental problems.  Their  confidence  in  the  social  order  is  genuinely 
disturbed.  The  growth  of  Socialism  seems  to  indicate  that  large 
numbers  prefer  to  go  on  in  the  easier  direction  of  despair  than 
to  return  by  the  difficult,  painful,  and  self -renouncing  method  of 


156  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

undoubting  trust  in  the  leaders,  the  laws,  and  the  institutions  which 
appear  to  have  brought  them  much  more  of  sadness  than  of  the  joy 
of  living,  much  more  of  struggle  than  of  peace.  I  do  not  intend 
exaggeration,  nor  am  I  conscious  of  it,  in  stating  the  problem  in 
this  manner.  Its  implication  is  that  we  conservatives  are  at  a 
great  disadvantage  due  to  the  temper,  the  experience,  and  the  pref- 
erences of  the  large  numbers  for  whose  guidance  we  are  con- 
tending against  Socialism. 

Fortunately  the  description  of  the  situation  exaggerates  the 
imminence  of  the  issue,  if  not  its  quality.  There  are  very  power- 
ful checks  at  work  which  automatically  hinder  the  masses  from 
drifting  into  the  despair  which  is  the  novitiate  of  Socialism.  These 
checks  act  directly  to  the  advantage  of  the  conservatives'  defense. 

Large  numbers  have  the  impression  that  Socialism  threatens 
seriously  their  personal  liberty.  They  are  unwilling  to  sacrifice 
it  for  any  assurance  that  Socialism  has  heretofore  been  able  to 
give.  This  same  attitude  has  hindered  large  numbers  of  laboring 
men  from  entering  labor  unions.  Numbers  are  saved  by  a  healthy 
skepticism  from  believing  that  Socialism's  three  assumptions  can 
bring  the  social  peace  and  justice  which  are  promised  with  indis- 
criminate assurance.  Large  numbers  are  deterred,  by  the  need 
of  earning  to-day's  and  to-morrow's  income,  from  entering  seriously 
into  the  speculative  attitude  and  theoretical  propaganda  which  are 
so  intimately  identified  with  the  Socialist  movement.  The  experience 
of  definite  and  measurable  progress  reassures  large  numbers,  and 
restores  their  confidence  in  the  present  social  order.  Increases  in 
wages,  improved  conditions  of  labor,  a  healthy  understanding  of 
the  large  movement  which  is  ameliorating  conditions  generally, 
and  personal  observation  of  the  gradually  improved  type  of  em- 
ployer, who  is  doing  splendid  work  to  humanize  industry  and  pro- 
tect the  elementary  decencies  of  life,  are  bringing  to  many  laboring 
men  an  attitude  of  mind  which  hinders  them  effectively  from  accept- 
ing Socialism's  first  assumption.  They  know  that  the  present  social 
order  is  not  bankrupt. 

The  affinities  of  Socialism  have  helped  to  prevent  its  wider 
acceptance.  Laboring  men  and  women,  in  whose  hearts  a  reverent 
Christian  faith  still  abides,  recoil  by  a  sure  spiritual  instinct  from 
the  Socialism  which  denounces  all  religion,  scorns  belief  in  the 
divinity  of  Christ,  and  delights  in  the  scornful  denunciation  of 
organized  Christianity.  After  allowing  in  fairness  for  repeated 
assurances  that  Socialism  has  nothing  to  do  with  religion,  the 
Christian  laboring  men  find  facts  enough,  literature  enough,  and 


1913.]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  157 

tendencies  enough  in  the  Socialist  movement  to  frighten  them  away 
from  it.  They  prefer  their  sufferings,  relieved  by  faith,  to  the 
verbal  assurances  that  Socialism  will  not  disturb  their  faith,  or, 
having  disturbed  it,  that  it  will  give  them  ample  compensation  for 
what  it  takes  from  them.  I  do  not  overlook  the  number  that 
think  they  can  reconcile  the  profession  of  Socialism  with  the 
profession  of  definite  Christianity,  nor  do  I  attempt  to  show  their 
success.  I  wish  for  the  moment  merely  to  state  the  point  that  the 
undeniable  sympathy  that  Socialism  displays  for  irreligion  and 
hatred  for  the  Christian  Church,  hinders  large  numbers  of  devout 
Christians  from  entering  the  movement.  There  is  undoubtedly  a 
fundamental  antagonism  in  the  views  of  human  nature,  of  human 
imperfection,  passion,  and  sin,  of  idealism  and  its  function,  of 
personal  responsibility,  held  by  Socialism  and  by  religion.  Prob- 
ably this  antagonism  is  much  more  clearly  perceived  by  scholarly 
men  of  wide  reading  than  by  those  to  whom  opportunity  for  this 
has  been  denied. 

Partisanship  is  another  highly  efficient  check  on  the  tendency 
to  accept  the  fundamental  assumptions  of  Socialism.  The  political 
party  is  inherent  in  American  life,  institutions,  and  imagination. 
The  thinking  and  the  interpreting  of  the  rock-ribbed  American 
partisan  is  limited  and  directed  by  his  party.  While  the  Repub- 
lican Party  is  in  ascendancy,  no  good  Republican  can  believe  that 
any  one  of  the  three  assumptions  of  Socialism  is  true.  In  his 
mind  the  present  social  order  is  not  only  not  bankrupt,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  is  highly  effective.  He  thinks  and  feels  in  the  terms 
of  the  President's  annual  Thanksgiving  proclamation.  Hence,  to 
his  way  of  thinking  the  three  fundamental  assumptions  of  Socialism 
are  nonsense.  During  a  time  of  Democratic  ascendancy,  the  good 
Democrat  feels  and  thinks  in  the  same  manner.  He  is  therefore 
amply  protected  against  the  most  subtle  and  effective  propaganda 
that  Socialism  can  command.  If  either  party  man  is  compelled  to 
admit  that  some  things  are  going  badly,  he  will  contrive  to  find  some 
manner  of  blaming  the  other  party  for  much  of  what  is  wrong, 
and  he  will  allow  the  imperfection  of  human  nature  and  the  limita- 
tion of  all  human  achievement  to  bear  the  remainder  of  blame. 
Where  genuine  conviction  may  not  account  for  the  zeal  of  the 
American  partisan,  the  prospect  of  holding  office,  and  of  furthering 
self-interest  may  be  invoked  in  accounting  for  his  zeal  in  action 
and  certainty  in  conviction. 

The  force  of  the  partisan  type  of  mind  is  a  varying  quantity. 


I58  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

The  constant  recurrence  of  the  third  party  in  our  history  shows 
that  there  is  always  a  margin  of  feeling  and  of  thought  which 
the  two  great  parties  fail  to  absorb  and  satisfy.  The  gradual 
absorption  of  what  is  vital  in  the  third  party  into  the  other  two 
helps  to  account  for  the  disappearance  of  these  third  parties.  Un- 
doubtedly the  partisan  mind  is  not  as  strong  to-day  as  our  parties 
would  like  to  see  it.  The  scratched  ballot  is  the  symbol  of  the 
emancipation  of  the  party  slave.  Three  processes  in  our  current 
life  show  that  we  are  in  a  period  of  transition  whose  issue  is  doubt- 
ful :  the  rise  of  the  Progressive  Party  which  may  indicate  a  funda- 
mental change  in  our  political  history;  the  entry  of  Socialism  into 
our  life  as  a  political  party,  and,  finally,  the  rise  and  development 
of  organized  labor.* 

Organized  labor  arose  and  developed  gigantic  strength  because 
laboring  men  believed  that  our  political  parties  either  would  not, 
or  could  not,  secure  industrial  justice  for  the  masses.  The  labor 
unions  have  generally  preferred  to  confine  themselves  to  economic 
action  to  the  exclusion  of  politics.  From  time  to  time  the  unions 


*The  following  from  President  Wilson's  Chicago  speech,  January  nth,  bears 
on  the  point  in  mind: 

"  The  hope  of  America  is  in  the  changing  attitude  of  the  business  men  of  this 
country  towards  the  things  which  they  have  to  handle  in  the  future.  If  thought 
and  temper  had  not  changed,  the  things  could  not  have  happened  which  have 
happened  in  recent  months.  For  what  you  have  witnessed  within  the  last  two 
months  is  not  merely  a  political  change;  it  is  a  change  in  the  attitude  and  judg- 
ment of  the  American  people.  One  of  the  reasons  why  there  were  not  two 
parties  contending  for  the  supremacy  at  the  recent  election ;  one  reason  why  the  field 
of  choice  was  varied  and  multiplied,  was  that  the  old  lines  are  breaking  up  where 
they  are  oldest,  and  that  men  are  no  longer  to  be  catalogued." 

And  Mr.  Roosevelt's  words  in  his  letter  to  the  Progressives  in  Congress, 
dated  April  $th,  are  equally  relevant : 

"  We  cannot  amalgamate  with  either  of  the  old  boss-ridden,  privilege-con- 
trolled parties.  We  stand  for  the  rights  of  the  people.  Where  the  rights  of  the 
people  can  only  be  secured  through  the  exercise  of  the  national  power,  then  we 
are  committed  to  the  doctrine  of  using  the  national  power  to  any  extent  that  the 
rights  of  the  people  demand. 

"  This  of  itself  sunders  us  from  the  Democratic  Party,  for  the  Democratic 
Party  must  either  be  false  to  its  pledges — and  you  can  trust  no  party  that  is  false 
to  its  pledges — or  else  it  is  irrevocably  committed  to  the  doctrine  of  some  fifty 
separate  sovereignties,  a  doctrine  which  in  practice  means  that  the  powers  of 
privilege  can  nullify  every  effort  of  the  plain  people  to  take  possession  of  their 
own  government. 

"  As  for  the  Republicans,  their  present  position  is  the  exact  negation  of  the 
attitude  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  men  of  Lincoln's  day.  Lincoln  declared  the 
people  were  masters  over  both  Congress  and  the  courts ;  not,  as  he  phrased  it,  to 
destroy  the  Constitution,  but  to  overthrow  those  who  perverted  the  Constitu- 
tion. We  stand  for  the  right  of  the  people  to  have  their  well-determined  wish  be- 
come part  of  the  fundamental  law  of  the  land  without  permitting  either  court,  leg- 
islature, or  executive  to  debar  them  from  this  right." 


1913.]  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  159 

have  doubted  their  own  wisdom,  and  they  have  made  excursions 
into  politics  with  doubtful  results.  At  present  there  is  a  marked 
demand  for  political  action  by  them.  Their  leaders  endeavor  to 
satisfy  it  by  asking  the  old  parties  to  incorporate  into  platforms, 
and  promote  before  legislatures,  measures  in  favor  of  laboring 
classes.  That  even  this  attitude,  which  is  fundamentally  wise  and 
increasingly  effective,  fails  to  satisfy  the  aroused  laboring  men  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  very  large  numbers  of  them  are  becoming 
Socialists.  The  frankly  Socialist  element  must  be  counted  on 
nowadays  in  many  of  our  labor  conventions.  This  would  seem 
to  indicate  the  regrettable  truth  that  organized  labor  is  losing  some 
of  its  power  to  stem  the  development  of  Socialism. 

Socialism  itself  as  an  economic  power,  aside  from  economic 
theory,  may  not  appeal  profoundly  to  large  numbers  of  laboring 
men.  But  when  it  is  organized  as  a  political  party ;  when  it  adopts 
the  methods,  the  vocabulary,  and  the  processes  of  a  political  party, 
it  does  appeal  to  many  laboring  men.  It  appears  to  express  their 
political  aspirations  in  a  more  satisfactory  manner  than  any  other 
party.  Since  the  good  American  must  have  a  party,  he  will  look 
with  favor  on  the  Socialist  party  if  it  answers  the  longings  of  his 
heart  with  more  assurance  than  that  offered  by  the  conservative 
parties. 

The  sudden  rise  of  the  Progressive  Party  in  the  United  States 
has  made  the  situation  highly  complicated  and  extremely  interesting. 
Whether  or  not  its  leadership  shows  a  political  sagacity,  worthy 
of  its  prestige  and  scholarship,  remains  to  be  seen.  The  party  is 
remarkable  in  that  it  professedly  aims  to  secure  industrial  justice 
for  the  weaker  classes.  It  has  drawn  together  high  types  of  men 
and  women  by  whom  ideals  are  genuinely  respected,  and  whose 
sympathies  lead  them  to  work  earnestly  for  industrial  justice.  It 
has  drawn  into  its  ranks  men  and  women  eminent  in  philanthropy, 
in  scholarship,  in  statesmanship,  and  in  political  experience.  That 
the  new  party  has  disturbed  the  stability  of  old-time  partisanship 
is  beyond  question.  That  it  has  been  able  to  absorb  the  confidence 
which  was  withdrawn  from  the  old  parties  may  well  be  doubted. 
That  it  may  have  called  back  to  fundamental  confidence  in  the 
established  order  many  who  were  drifting  toward  Socialism,  seems 
to  be  implied  in  the  claim  that  the  Progressive  vote  reduced  mater- 
ially the  Socialist  vote  in  1912. 

The  work  which  conservatism  must  do  in  order  to  hinder 
the  development  of  Socialism,  must  bear  in  converging  lines  directly 


160  THE  ASSENT  TO  SOCIALISM  [May, 

or  indirectly,  actually  or  by  implication,  on  the  three  fundamental 
assumptions  to  which  reference  has  been  made.  We  must  hinder 
the  process  of  undermining  confidence  in  the  social  order,  the  logical 
issue  of  which  process  is  experienced  in  the  first  assumption,  which 
declares  that  the  present  social  order  is  bankrupt.  We  must  make 
clear,  to  the  aroused  minds  of  the  people,  the  extent  to  which  modern 
capital  is  actually  and  specifically  the  cause  of  the  massive  social 
injustice  which  all  right-minded  men  deplore.  If  we  succeed  in 
impressing  on  the  popular  imagination  the  extent  to  which  capital 
is  to  blame,  our  work  in  showing  the  other  factors  involved  will 
be  more  telling,  and  it  will  hinder  these  assumptions  of  Socialism 
from  general  acceptance.  If  we  can  bring  home  to  the  minds 
of  the  people  in  unmistakable  terms  the  splendid  progress  which 
has  been  made,  the  healthy  processes  of  thought,  feeling,  and  estab- 
lishment by  which  we  are  daily  making  creditable  amends  for  inex- 
cusable delay,  we  shall  materially  weaken  the  charm  of  Socialism's 
third  assumption.  Our  work  in  doing  this  must  take  account  of  the 
checks  that  are  to  be  found  in  American  life,  and  we  should  neither 
underrate  or  overrate  the  absolute  and  the  relative  value  of  them 
in  our  work. 

Conservatism  enjoys  social,  industrial,  and  political  prestige.  It 
possesses  most  of  the  wealth,  most  of  the  scholarship,  and  most  of 
the  political  experience  of  the  nation.  If  in  spite  of  its  disadvantage, 
Socialism  succeeds  in  making  progress,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take 
stock  of  our  wisdom,  and  to  revise  our  methods  in  order  to  explain 
the  mystery.  Whatever  of  truth,  of  justice,  of  reasonable  aspira- 
tions and  genuine  human  sympathy  there  is  in  Socialism,  to  that 
extent  Socialism  will  defy  our  opposition.  Whatever  of  insincerity, 
of  mistaken  reading  of  history,  of  erroneous  interpretation  of  our 
problems,  of  mistaken  emphasis  on  human  values,  and  of  triumphant 
selfishness  and  spiritual  apathy  there  may  be  in  conservative  circles, 
to  that  extent  we  scatter  the  seeds  of  peril  with  our  own  hands. 
The  victory  will  go  with  the  conquest  of  the  imagination  and  con- 
fidence of  the  people.  Not  to  logic,  not  to  argument,  not  to 
righteousness  and  truth  necessarily,  will  voters  flock  and  give  their 
trust.  Least  of  all  may  we  expect  triumph  when  so  much  in  our 
thoughtless  national  life,  in  our  short-sighted  politics,  in  our  com- 
plicated adjustment  of  warring  social  forces,  lends  seeming  con- 
firmation to  the  assumptions  on  which  Socialism  builds  with  so 
much  insight,  and  wrhich  it  proclaims  with  so  much  power. 


WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT. 


BY    JOSEPH    FRANCIS    WICKHAM. 

jHE  leathern  curtain  has  fallen  behind  you,  and  at  last 
you  stand  within  the  greatest  temple  of  the  world. 
You  have  no  words  to  tell  the  thrill,  no  language 
to  translate  the  emotions  of  the  soul,  no  power  of 
speech  to  render  the  sweep  and  current  of  sensation 
that  enthrall  the  heart.  For  this  is  not  Westminster  Abbey,  nor 
Notre  Dame,  nor  the  lovely  cathedral  in  old  Cologne,  but  it  is 
the  vast  living  majesty  within  the  gates  of  Saint  Peter's. 

As  you  drove  clatteringly  along  the  streets  past  the  Piazza  di 
Spagna  and  on  by  the  Piazza  Colonna,  you  were  not  observing 
the  morning  life  of  Rome,  and  had  no  admiring  glances  for  church 
fagade  or  ancient  staircase,  or  any  of  the  things  of  joyous  beauty, 
for  you  were  dreaming  of  the  queenly  dome  of  Michelangelo 
that  every  now  and  then  was  gleaming  in  the  distance.  Hadrian's 
Tomb  across  the  yellow  Tiber,  with  the  thoughts  of  eighteen 
centuries  buried  in  its  mighty  heart,  held  your  vision  only  as  a 
symbol  of  the  nearness  of  the  goal,  for  this  Castel  Sant'  Angelo 
is  close  to  the  journey's  end.  A  little  while  and  you  were  before 
the  Piazza  di  San  Pietro,  looking  in  wonderment  at  Bernini's  huge 
colonnades  that  curve  in  graceful  ellipse  about  the  great  space, 
and  lead  the  way  to  the  quadrangle  before  the  church  steps. 
Perhaps  you  looked  up  and  read  over  the  portico  of  the  church 
the  name  of  Paul  the  Fifth.  But  perhaps,  as  is  more  probable, 
you  observed  very  few  details,  and  your  imagination  and  feelings 
registered  more  impressions  than  you  were  actively  conscious  of, 
for  the  immensity  of  it  all  is  stupendous,  and  appalling  to  the 
sight  accustomed  to  things  less  gigantic. 

But  you  are  now  within  the  church  itself.  Those  who  have 
visited  great  Cathedrals  are  usually  somewhat  prepared  for  the  first 
view,  and  are  ready  to  admire  after  the  mental  adjustment  to  the 
new  scene.  But  here  no  previous  dream  wakes  into  life,  no  pre- 
conceived notions  are  born  into  fulfillment.  You  stand  near  the 
bronze  door  of  the  central  entrance,  and  look  up  the  nave  and 
see  the  splendor  of  a  vision  of  paradise  extending  for  one-eighth 
of  a  mile.  And  as  you  walk  up  that  long  space,  you  are  awed  in 
VOL.  xcvn. — ii. 


1 62  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT          [May, 

wonderment  of  the  grand  arches,  and  your  mind  is  surcharged  by 
the  grace  of  Corinthian  pillars,  the  richness  of  the  color  of  marble 
pavement,  the  perfect  symmetry  of  the  Latin  cross  that  forms  the 
plan  of  the  temple,  and  above  all,  perhaps,  by  the  matchless  beauty 
of  the  dome,  a  sky  of  gold  dazzling  four  hundred  feet  above  your 
head.  You  behold  statues  of  saints  in  purest  marble,  mosaic  rep- 
resentations that  glow  in  a  warmth  of  color,  chapels  that  are 
churches.  Everything  is  colossal,  everything  grand,  everything 
in  fullest  harmony.  You  can  no  more  measure  distance  or  height 
here  than  you  can  judge  the  strength  of  an  ocean  wave  or  the 
depth  of  a  passing  cloud.  Everything  is  in  such  exquisite  pro- 
portion— a  pen  eight  feet  long  seems  ready  for  your  own  hand. 

Perhaps  it  is  well  in  Saint  Peter's  to  walk  up  the  nave  to 
the  apse  and  over  the  transepts  before  attempting  to  study  anything 
in  leisurely  analysis.  Then  you  will  come  down  the  aisle  to  the 
bronze  door  of  Filarete,  and  be  somewhat  prepared  to  spend  your 
hours  in  less  hurried  admiring.  And  when  you  have  done  this, 
and  have  caught  the  spell  of  the  majestic  aisles  and  the  fascination 
of  the  vaulted  dome,  you  will  pause  longer  near  that  round  slab 
of  porphyry  which  is  close  to  the  central  door.  For  eleven  hun- 
dred years  this  has  justly  been  a  spot  of  interest,  for  it  was  upon 
this  stone  that  the  mighty  Charlemagne  knelt  in  the  year  800  when 
Leo  the  Third  placed  on  his  head  the  heavy  crown  of  royalty,  and 
so  made  a  Holy  Roman  Empire.  Many  another  emperor  received 
the  blessing  here,  too,  when  the  world  was  younger  and  Europe 
wore  a  less  changed  face. 

But  Charlemagne  knelt  on  the  porphyry  disk  in  the  year  800, 
while  the  Saint  Peter's  you  are  visiting  is  of  another  age,  of  a 
later  building.  So  here  at  the  threshold  of  the  central  fane  of 
Christendom  you  will  allow  your  memory  to  search  its  gathered 
spoil  of  chronicle  for  the  origins  of  the  cathedral.  And  back 
you  must  turn  the  pages,  back  you  must  go  to  the  very  lifetime 
of  the  Saint  whose  name  is  so  worthily  commemorated. 

For  it  was  on  this  Vatican  hill,  where  Nero's  circus  used  to  be, 
that  Peter  was  crucified  during  Nero's  persecution.  Here  he  died 
in  the  year  67.  The  little  Christian  group  which,  not  far  away, 
had  been  watching  and  waiting  in  prayer,  took  the  body  and  placed 
it  in  a  tomb  on  the  Via  Cornelia,  close  to  the  walls  of  the  circus. 
And  they  often  came  back  to  pray;  and  multitudes  of  other  Roman 
Christians  visited  the  sacred  spot  in  the  years  that  followed. 

Anacletus  became  the  third  Bishop  and  Pope  of  Rome,  having 


1913.]  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT  163 

received  his  ordination  to  the  priesthood  from  Peter  himself.  Now 
thirty  years  or  more  after  the  Apostle  had  gone  to  heaven,  Anacletus 
erected  a  little  oratory  or  memoria  over  the  tomb,  where  Mass 
could  be  said,  and  a  handful  of  Christians  could  come  and  pray  in 
the  presence  of  the  grave  of  Christ's  chosen  one.  Hither  Chris- 
tians came  from  all  over  the  city,  some  already  within  call  of  martyr- 
dom. Hither  they  came  from  all  the  Christian  world,  in  reverent 
pilgrimage  to  the  little  oratory.  So  began  Saint  Peter's  Church. 

Then  two  centuries  later  came  Milvian  Bridge  and  the  celestial 
sign  that  won  victory.  Then  the  Edict  of  Milan,  and  the  Chris- 
tians had  a  friend  in  the  Emperor  Constantine;  so  good  a  friend 
that  he  placed  a  cross  of  gold  on  the  tomb  of  Peter,  and  over  the 
tomb  erected  a  beauteous  altar  overlaid  with  gold  and  silver  and 
studded  with  gleaming  jewels.  Then  he  tore  down  the  temple 
of  Apollo,  the  old  sun-god  that  he  used  to  worship,  and  in  the  year 
323  commenced  a  mighty  basilica  over  the  sacred  relics  of  the 
Apostle.  In  short  season  it  was  completed,  and  in  the  year  324, 
in  the  presence  of  the  emperor  and  all  his  court,  was  consecrated 
by  Pope  Sylvester. 

A  magnificent  structure  was  Constantine's  basilica,  the  old 
Saint  Peter's.  In  the  form  of  a  cross,  it  was  nearly  four  hundred 
feet  in  length,  and  somewhat  over  two  hundred  feet  wide.  A  long 
colonnade  led  up  to  a  flight  of  marble  and  porphyry  steps  to  the 
doors  of  the  vestibule.  From  the  vestibule  the  atrium  was  reached, 
a  large  court  in  which  palms  and  cypresses  and  olives  in  early  times 
grew  in  green  beauty,  though  later  the  trees  gave  way  to  a  marble 
paving.  In  the  centre  of  the  atrium  was  a  great  fountain,  near 
whose  cooling  waters  a  visitor  to  the  church  would  ofttimes  wish  to 
linger.  From  the  atrium  five  large  doors  opened  into  the  basilica. 
Five  great  aisles  were  formed  by  four  rows  of  columns,  and  these 
led  the  way  to  the  choir  just  in  front  of  the  high  altar,  the  first 
stone  altar  of  Christian  worship.  Time  came  when  threescore  and 
more  of  altars  graced  the  nave  and  aisles,  but  in  the  beginning 
there  was  one  only,  the  altar  Constantine  placed  in  the  new  basilica. 
In  time,  too,  beautiful  paintings  and  mosaics  and  monuments  bor- 
dered the  aisles  and  the  wide  spaces  of  the  transepts. 

Time,  indeed,  is  needed  to  bring  any  object  to  full-blown 
beauty.  But  time,  unfortunately,  brings,  as  well,  decline  and  decay, 
and  so  it  dealt  with  Constantine's  church.  For  over  eleven  hun- 
dred years  it  lasted,  the  central  church  of  Christendom,  but  in  1450 
the  walls  began  to  settle  down  on  one  side,  and  Pope  Nicholas  the 


164  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT          [May, 

Fifth  was  sadly  obliged  to  take  steps  toward  its  destruction.  But 
it  was  a  costly  matter  to  unbuild  a  great  cathedral  and  to  erect 
another,  and  the  times  were  troublous.  So  it  was  that  next  to 
nothing  had  been  done  on  the  plans  which  Alberti  and  Rossellino  had 
made,  when  the  Pope  passed  away. 

For  fifty  years  things  lay  in  abeyance,  until  the  great  Julius 
the  Second  came  to  the  pontifical  throne.  He  called  to  his  service 
the  architect  Bramante  d'Urbino,  who  made  new  plans.  The  cor- 
ner stone  of  the  new  Saint  Peter's  was  laid  by  the  Pope's  hands 
in  1506.  Bramante  conceived  as  his  design  a  Greek  cross,  but 
there  were  many  shiftings  between  Greek  and  Latin  before  Michel- 
angelo, the  greatest  architect  of  the  several  who  worked  on  the 
church,  in  his  own  design  confirmed  Bramante's  judgment.  Event- 
ually, however,  the  Latin  cross  became  the  shape  of  the  cathedral. 
In  the  year  1626,  almost  precisely  thirteen  hundred  years  after  Pope 
Sylvester  had  consecrated  the  Basilica  of  Constantine,  the  present 
Saint  Peter's  was  consecrated  by  Urban  the  Eighth. 

While  the  new  Saint  Peter's  was  rising,  the  old  basilica  was 
being  dismantled.  In  their  hurry  the  architects  and  workmen  often 
destroyed  many  of  the  fine  mosaics  and  mediaeval  monuments  and 
memorials  of  early  Christian  days.  Not  all,  however,  for  there  are 
a  goodly  number  of  various  adornments  from  the  old"  church  pre- 
served in  the  present  structure.  Still  had  Michelangelo's  plan 
been  adhered  to,  we  should  have  to-day  the  beautiful  atrium  of 
Constantine's  cathedral,  with  the  graceful  porticoes  on  the  four 
sides.  But  the  lengthening  of  the  nave  necessitated  the  destruction 
of  this  last  remnant  of  the  old  basilica,  which  had  been  the  heart 
of  the  worship  of  the  world  for  twelve  centuries. 

So  one  may  trace  back  the  history  of  Saint  Peter's  as  one 
stands  near  the  red  disk  of  porphyry  from  the  old  church.  The 
slab,  indeed,  is  a  voice  of  the  early  Christian  days,  a  voice  that 
speaks  in  the  words  of  youthtime,  or  springtime. 

Not  far  away,  a  little  distance  up  the  nave,  is  the  bronze 
figure  of  Saint  Peter  on  a  marble  throne.  Of  the  sixth  century, 
this  monument  is  a  magnificent  work  of  art  to  the  memory  of 
the  first  Bishop  of  Rome.  But  there  is  little  need  to  linger  long 
at  the  statue  of  the  Saint  when  the  tomb,  with  all  that  remains  of 
the  Apostle,  are  so  close  by.  For  in  the  centre  of  the  church  in  a 
sunken  space,  directly  beneath  the  noble  dome  of  Michelangelo, 
rests  the  tomb  of  the  first  Pope.  You  approach  it  by  walking 
up  the  nave  to  an  oval  space  encircled  by  a  marble  balustrade,  and 


1913-]  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT  165 

made  brilliant  by  numerous  clusters  of  never-paling  lamps.  When 
you  have  gone  down  the  marble  steps,  past  Canova's  beautiful 
statue  of  Pius  the  Sixth,  in  wonderment  at  the  precious  stones  that 
deck  the  walls  and  floor  about  you,  you  stand  just  without  the 
bronze  doors  leading  to  the  niche,  the  floor  of  which  rests  above 
Peter's  tomb.  Here  the  body  of  the  Apostle  was  buried  when 
Saint  Peter's  was  undreamed,  and  the  place  of  entombment  lay 
against  the  wall  of  the  circus  of  Nero.  Here  the  tomb  remained 
when  Anacletus  built  the  memorial  oratory.  Here  the  tomb  lay 
when  Constantine  built  over  it  an  altar,  and,  later,  on  ground  em- 
bracing part  of  Nero's  circus,  a  mighty  basilica  not  less  famed 
than  its  successor.  And  here  the  tomb  still  lies,  unmoved  in  the 
nineteen  centuries,  the  centre  of  Christian  interest  in  the  year  67, 
the  focus  of  Christian  pilgrimage  in  this  twentieth  century.  In  one 
single  spot  has  the  tomb  reposed,  while  the  revolution  of  wearied 
years  journeyed  on  in  unrelenting  succession,  changing  the  things 
that  claim  their  life  from  time  and  their  fame  from  the  vicissitudes 
of  mortal  desires.  Peter's  tomb  has  lain  in  the  same  spot  since  the 
beginning,  and  for  all  those  centuries,  save  for  the  brief  time 
it  reposed  in  the  catacombs,  transferred  thither  for  safety,  the 
body  of  the  Apostle  has  rested  in  the  same  sarcophagus. 

When  you  ascend  into  the  nave  again,  you  will  proceed  a  short 
distance  to  where  the  high  altar  stands  forth  in  glory  beneath 
Bernini's  soaring  canopy.  Here  in  days  not  far  gone,  it  was  the 
custom  for  the  Pope  to  celebrate  Mass  on  the  grand  festivals  of 
the  Church.  Viewed  as  a  spectacle,  wondrous  it  must  have  been 
to  behold,  bordering  the  great  nave  on  either  side,  the  files  of 
Swiss  guards  in  glitter  and  gold;  the  ranks  of  countless  priests  in 
black  cassock  and  white  surplice;  a  half  a  hundred  monsignori  and 
bishops  in  purple  mantle;  a  score  of  cardinals  radiant  in  scarlet; 
and  in  purest  of  white  robes,  the  reigning  Pope,  a  Gregory  the 
Sixteenth,  perhaps,  or  a  Pius  the  Ninth.  The  fragrant  incense  ris- 
ing in  clouds  from  swinging  censers ;  a  thousand  lights  glowing  on 
priceless  altars ;  the  liquid  melody  of  an  incomparable  choir;  the  sun- 
beams of  heaven  streaming  through  beauteous  windows;  and  the 
dome  of  a  master  builder  hanging  like  a  mother's  protection  over 
a  multitude  of  sixty  thousand,  the  residents  of  Rome  and  the  visitors 
of  the  world:  nothing  on  earth  could  surpass  all  this.  Then 
suddenly  the  movement  through  that  multitude  would  cease;  the 
stir  of  expectation  would  subside;  and  the  great  temple  would  be 
calm  and  still. 


i66  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT          [May, 

Under  the  vast  dome-halo  which  encircled  them  the  throng 
would  drop  to  their  knees — cardinals,  bishops,  monsignori,  priests ; 
princes,  generals,  ambassadors;  men  of  Rome  and  men  of  England 
and  from  every  sun;  humble  mothers  with  babes  in  their  arms, 
and  women  of  fashion's  choosing.  And  while  they  knelt  there,  with 
heads  bowed  in  adoration,  a  gentle  bell  would  tinkle  in  soft  herald- 
ing, and  the  Vicar  of  Christ  would  raise  high  in  the  air  the  white 
Body  of  the  Lord.  Then  the  great  organ  would  burst  out  again 
into  wonderful  music,  and  a  hundred  voices  would  chant  God's 
praises  in  happy  unison,  and  the  immense  volume  of  sound  would 
sweep  down  the  aisles,  and  would  gather  resonance  among  the 
chapels,  and  would  tremble  about  columns  and  capitals,  and  would 
rise  in  grand  triumph  amid  lofty  arches  even  to  the  inmost  circle  of 
the  wondrous  dome.  Rarely  nowadays  may  one  see  those  splendid 
pageants  at  Saint  Peter's.  But  the  glorious  memories  cling  to  its 
aisles  and  its  altars,  radiant  and  undimmed,  like  the  remembrance 
of  a  well-loved  friend. 

From  the  high  altar  one  passes  to  the  apse  at  the  end  of  the 
church,  where  stands  Bernini's  colossal  chair  of  gilded  bronze,  in- 
closing the  chair  Saint  Peter  used  as  Bishop  of  Rome.  This  is 
a  fitting  point  from  which  to  begin  a  visit  to  the  various  chapels 
that  are  built  along  the  aisles  and  transepts.  Twenty-seven  chapels 
there  are  in  all,  some  of  surpassing  interest.  It  is  indeed  well-nigh 
impossible  to  make  selection  here  in  this  vast  assemblage  of  beau- 
teous tombs  and  well-modeled  statues  and  exquisitely  executed 
mosaics. 

Of  the  mosaics  the  two  generally  conceded  to  be  the  best  are 
the  "  Transfiguration,"  after  Raphael's  painting  in  the  Vatican,  and 
the  "  Burial  of  Saint  Petronilla,"  after  Guercino.  They  are  mar- 
velously  wrought,  and,  from  one's  viewpoint  along  the  church  aisle, 
resemble  for  all  the  world  superior  oil  paintings  rich  in  every 
merit  of  tone  and  color.  And  if  they  are  lesser  things  in  order 
of  creation,  in  any  event  they  will  last  forever,  a  splendid  triumph 
of  mechanical  art. 

Among  the  tombs,  that  of  Sixtus  the  Fourth  is  one  of  the  most 
noteworthy.  It  stands  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament. 
Pollajuolo  executed  the  work  in  bronze,  and  to  his  artistry  is  due 
the  quietude  and  calm  of  the  figure  of  the  first  Rovere  Pope  recum- 
bent on  the  sarcophagus.  Sharing  the  tomb  with  him  lies  the  dust 
of  the  resolute  Julius  the  Second,  who  laid  the  foundation  stone 
of  the  church,  and  called  Bramante  to  build  it.  Scarcely  less  ex- 


1913-]  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT  167 

quisite,  perhaps,  in  design  and  execution  is  Canova's  masterpiece, 
the  tomb  of  Clement  the  Thirteenth.  Between  the  figures  of  Death 
and  Religion  the  Pope  is  seen  praying,  while  below  the  figures 
of  two  lions  complete  the  grouping. 

By  far  the  most  excellent  of  the  many  statues  in  the  cathedral 
is  the  "  Pieta  "  of  Michelangelo.  The  great  sculptor  took  as  his 
theme  the  sorrow  of  our  Lady  for  her  divine  Son's  Crucifixion. 
The  body  of  the  dead  Christ  is  lying  in  her  arms,  a  human  form 
resting  after  much  labor,  at  peace  after  much  pain.  The  Virgin 
gazes  upon  her  dead  Son  lovingly  and  tenderly,  with  the  look  of 
a  mother's  compassion  in  her  quiet  face,  and  the  dolorous  woe  of 
a  world's  weeping  lying  beneath  her  drooping  eyes.  The  "  Pieta  " 
is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  conceptions  of  the  ages,  and  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  creations  of  art  in  the  world. 

So  the  visitor  wanders  through  the  massive  edifice,  admiring 
here  a  fine  mosaic  or  here  a  delicately  carved  altar-rail,  or  over 
yonder  a  beauteously  chiseled  tomb  above  the  sainted  dust  of  cen- 
turies agone.  He  will  be  glad  of  the  many  treasures  preserved 
from  old  Saint  Peter's,  the  monuments  and  tombs  and  brazen 
doors  reaching  in  spirit  across  the  ages.  He  has  seen  the  apse 
where  the  canonizations  are  determined  in  solemn  procedure;  he 
has  walked  through  the  right  transept,  where  the  (Ecumenical  Coun- 
cil was  assembled  in  1870,  and  where  Papal  infallibility  was  pro- 
claimed to  the  nations;  and  into  the  left  transept  where  the  penitent 
pilgrims  of  every  clime  may  tell  in  the  language  of  home  their  tales 
of  regretted  folly,  and  may  seek  surcease  from  the  weariness  of  sin. 
And  when  he  has  seen  and  felt  what  a  single  visit  to  Saint  Peter's 
will  let  him  see  and  feel,  he  will  walk  down  the  nave  again  toward 
the  door,  and  perhaps  pause  in  rest  a  moment  near  the  Porta  Santa 
on  the  other  side  from  the  baptistery  font  which  claims  birth  from 
Hadrian's  mausoleum. 

The  Porta  Santa  swings  not  to  the  coming  and  going  of  visitors 
as  do  the  other  doors,  but  opens  only  once  in  twenty-five  years,  in  the 
years  of  jubilee.  But  as  you  stand  here,  leaning  against  a  great 
column,  with  eyes  half-closed  in  reverie,  you  can  see  in  the  joy-land 
of  imagination  this  door  swing  open,  and  all  the  bronze  doors  of 
the  church,  and  the  ages  of  the  past  file  by  you,  century  after  cen- 
tury, straight  up  the  nave  to  the  tomb  of  Peter.  Watch  them 
you  will,  in  their  long  procession,  in  their  varied  mien:  slender 
little  centuries,  the  weak,  starveling  centuries  of  early  Christianity; 
then  stronger  figures;  then  ages  still  stronger  and  sterner,  with  the 


i68  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT          [May, 

mark  of  holiness  on  their  brows  and  the  stamp  of  vigor  sealed  in 
the  set  lines  of  their  eyes ;  then  the  wraith-like  figures  come  in  con- 
fidence and  power;  three  pitiful  centuries,  with  ranks  only  half- 
filled;  and  after  them  again  the  prayerful  hosts  of  the  years  that 
are.  It  is  all  very  strange,  but  wonderfully  clear  the  vision  becomes 
as  you  stand  by  the  Porta  Santa. 

Now  the  procession  is  returning  and  marching  down  the 
nave,  after  the  visit  of  veneration  to  the  Apostle's  tomb.  But  this 
time  it  is  not  the  mere  impersonal  ghosts  of  the  years  that  you  see, 
but  with  a  lucid  sight  you  catch  the  features  of  the  personages 
in  the  marching,  and  distinguish  them  marvelously,  as  if  they  are 
old  friends.  In  the  procession  are  the  people  from  every  country 
and  every  clime,  people  of  every  rank  and  every  age.  Martyrs  are 
there,  Saint  Maurus  and  Saint  Simplician,  and  a  host  more;  and 
their  fellow-saints,  Athansius  and  Ambrose  and  Jerome,  Patrick 
and  Boniface  and  Anselm,  and  Dominic  and  the  one  of  Assisi 
and  Ignatius  Loyola;  kings  are  there,  Csedwalla  the  West-Saxon, 
Conrad  the  Mercian,  Ceowulf  the  Northumbrian,  Ethelwulf  and 
Alfred  and  Canute,  and  many  another  from  France  and  Germany. 
All  these  are  in  the  front  ranks,  while  after  them  come  many 
another  holy  man,  and  many  another  king  and  queen,  and  many  a 
mild- faced  nun,  and  many  a  widowed  matron,  and  many  a  boy 
and  girl  in  years  all  tender.  Down  the  long  aisle  they  glide  in 
the  softness  of  silence,  slowly  and  steadily,  one  long,  uninterrupted, 
unbroken  legion  of  loyalty.  Still  they  are  coming  on,  in  the  motley 
dress  of  Spain  and  France  and  England  and  Germany,  and  Asia 
and  Africa;  prince  and  knight  and  page,  goldsmith  and  painter  and 
soldier,  poet  and  merchant  and  legate,  man  of  law  and  doctor  of 
physic,  and  the  hopeful  alchemist,  the  scholar  from  Oxford  and 
from  Paris  and  from  Salamanca,  and  a  thousand,  thousand  more. 
Then  the  people  of  a  new  continent  are  distinguished,  and  they  are 
mingled  with  the  others,  and  come  marching  past  you. 

So  the  mighty  procession  passes  through  the  open  doors  to  the 
end,  while  you  stand  aside  a  stranger  soul,  yet  feeling  in  your 
breast  a  comradeship  born  of  the  thought  that  you,  too,  are  of 
them  and  of  their  guild.  You  have  been  resting  here  for  ten  min- 
utes, perhaps,  yet  in  that  time  all  the  world  from  the  first  century 
to  the  twentieth  has  passed  in  review  as  a  mighty  army.  For  so 
visions  will  come  in  Saint  Peter's;  it  is  easy  to  thrust  aside  the 
film-curtain  that  clouds  the  imagination,  and  sweep  away  the  cob- 
web of  Time. 


1913.]  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT  169 

Saint  Peter's  is  indeed  the  focus  of  the  earth's  citizens.  If 
one  could  remain  on  its  portals  for  half  a  lifetime,  one  would  see 
every  well-known  being  of  the  world  climb  the  steps,  and  a  hun- 
dred different  types  of  all  the  rest.  Distinction  of  religion  makes 
no  one  hesitant  of  visiting  the  great  cathedral.  There  is  reason 
enough  for  the  coming  of  all,  Catholic  or  Protestant,  Hebrew  or 
Mohammedan,  or  the  Brahmin  from  sacred  Delhi.  Some  come  to 
admire,  some  to  study,  and  some  to  pray.  And  ever  the  stream  of 
visitors  will  flow  on,  inexhaustible,  unwavering,  in  steady  volume, 
till  the  end  of  everything. 

But  now  that  your  day-dream  is  over,  and  all  is  as  it  was 
before,  you  will  wish  to  leave  the  Porta  Santa  and  ascend  to  the 
galleries  in  the  cupola  to  view  the  vastness  of  the  edifice  from 
the  higher  level.  The  effect  is  very  wonderful  as  you  look  down 
on  the  pavement  from  this  height;  everything  below  seems  so  very 
minute,  so  exceedingly  atomic  indeed.  Bernini's  canopy  is  ninety- 
five  feet  from  the  pavement,  but  it  is  small,  very  small,  now.  You 
can  see  human  beings  flitting  about  the  church,  hundreds  of  them, 
and  they  seem  no  different  from  infinitesimal  checkers  moving 
mechanically  over  the  flat  surface. 

While  the  tiny  figures  are  shifting  beneath  you,  it  is  hard  for 
you  up  here  so  high  to  realize  that  below  that  floor  down  in  the 
crypts,  or  under  the  chapel  altars,  lie  the  dust  of  the  great  beings 
of  the  earth.  The  Apostle  is  not  alone  in  death.  With  him  is 
Leo  the  First,  who  stayed  the  hand  of  Attila  and  Genseric;  here  is 
Gregory  the  Great,  who  loved  England  and  her  conversion ;  Adrian 
the  Fourth,  who  came  out  of  England,  and  who  crowned  Frederick 
Barbarossa;  Nicholas  the  Fifth,  the  patron  of  the  Renaissance; 
Paul  the  Second,  who  came  from  Venice  like  Pius  the  Tenth; 
Julius  the  Second,  to  whom  the  present  Saint  Peter's  is  largely  due; 
Pius  the  Ninth,  of  recent  memory;  and  many  more.  Saint  John 
Chrysostom  waits  here  in  silence;  Otho  the  Second  dreams  here 
of  misty  empires  and  the  sceptre;  and  here  lie  the  last  of  the 
Stuarts,  James  and  Prince  Charles  and  Henry,  Cardinal  Duke 
of  York,  together  communing  on  the  golden  days  when  their 
house  was  a  house  of  kings  and  glory  was  in  flower. 

From  this  contemplation  of  death  you  will  turn,  to  climb  still 
higher  and  emerge  into  the  open  air.  Rome  lies  before  you,  the 
wonderful  deathless  city,  stretching  from  the  Tiber  far  and  away 
toward  the  roses  and  cypresses  of  Tivoli.  You  can  see  on  one 
side  the  road  that  leads  to  San  Paolo  fuori  le  Mura,  and  on  the 


i ;o  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT          [May, 

other  the  gardens  of  the  Pincio  not  far  from  the  broad  Corso, 
and  between  them  the  network  of  streets  and  palaces  and  ancient 
churches  of  modern  Rome.  It  is  easy  to  read  Rome's  history 
up  here.  Servius  Tullius  seems  qui^2  close,  and  Cincinnatus,  and 
Tiberius  Gracchus,  and  Sulla,  and  Julius  Caesar,  and  Augustus. 
You  can  see  the  flash  of  the  western  sun  on  helmet  and  spear  as 
the  legions  swing  into  the  city  over  the  Via  Appia;  you  can  see 
the  crowds  gathered  at  the  circus  from  all  the  seven  hills  of  the 
city,  watching  famished  lions  tear  the  pale  Christians  to  make  an 
autumn  holiday;  you  can  see  Peter  toiling  under  his  cross  on  the 
ground  beneath  you;  you  can  see  Leo  fearlessly  going  out  to 
challenge  Attila  with  the  name  of  the  unknown  God;  you  can 
see  Hildebrand  leaving  the  Castel  Sant'  Angelo  for  the  Lateran 
with  Robert  Guiscard;  you  can  see  the  vain  and  heroic  Rienzi, 
last  of  the  tribunes,  calling  on  Rome  to  follow  him;  you  can  see 
the  German  savages  of  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  rushing  into 
the  avenues  of  Rome  and  making  a  helldom  of  a  sacred  city.  All 
the  panorama  passes  rapidly  before  you  as  the  sun  dissolves  each 
picture  and  creates  another.  And  this  is  what  Rome  is,  this  is 
what  draws  us  to  her,  this  is  why  we  cling  to  her  welcome.  With- 
out her  Caesars,  without  her  Popes,  Rome  would  be  as  another 
European  city,  much  like  Berlin  or  Madrid  or  Paris  or  London. 
With  her  Caesars,  with  her  Popes,  she  is — Rome. 

Now  you  descend,  and  into  the  church  again,  and,  before  you 
leave,  once  more  you  will  go  up  to  the  altar  before  which  the  red 
lamp  glows,  and  make  your  prayer  to  the  unseen  God;  to  the 
Supreme  Maker  Who  breathed  the  fire  of  genius  into  all  who  made 
His  temple  worthy  as  creatures  could  frame  it  of  His  divine  glory; 
to  the  kind  Lord  Who  has  watched  the  peoples  of  Christendom 
kneel  before  His  abode  behind  the  golden  door,  and,  watching,  has 
been  glad.  Saint  Peter's  is  the  noblest  monument  of  human 
artistic  achievement;  but  it  is,  as  well,  the  house  of  worship  of  all 
the  world. 

Once  more  you  look  about  you,  at  the  high  dome  and  the 
transepts  and  the  tribunes  and  the  tombs  and  the  monuments  and 
the  altars,  and  you  reflect  on  what  it  all  means.  For  it  is  the 
greatest  single  structure  in  the  world,  the  undying  voice  of  the  most 
artistic  period  since  the  days  of  Pericles,  the  glorification  of  the 
foremost  worker  of  his  time,  Michelangelo,  the  expression  of  the 
Church's  never-failing  patronage  of  the  arts,  the  embodiment  of 
man's  eternal  seeking  for  the  victory  of  the  spirit,  the  beauteous 


1913-]  WHERE  THE  NATIONS  HAVE  KNELT  171 

symbol  of  the  living  faith  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of 
Christian  souls.  It  is  the  most  interesting  thing  in  Rome.  The 
Forum  gives  tongue  to  the  old  republic,  but  the  republic  died,  never 
to  revive;  the  Colosseum  speaks  the  manners  of  the  empirje,  but 
the  empire  fell,  tottering  in  its  own  decay,  a  tired  and  worn-out 
thing;  Saint  Peter's  is  the  voice  of  the  Church  of  God,  and  the 
Church  has  lived,  though  torn  and  scourged  and  trodden  by  foes 
within  and  without  the  lines,  and  the  Church  will  ever  live  till  the 
angel's  calling  is  heard  in  the  sky  and  the  song  of  the  world  is  still. 

But  while  the  world  lasts,  while  the  Church  lasts,  Saint  Peter's, 
perhaps  in  a  thousand  newer  plannings  and  a  thousand  finer  build- 
ings, will  continue  to  draw  to  its  threshold  the  pathways  of  the 
earth  and  the  countless  millions  who  will  ask  the  peace  of  its 
shrines.  When  the  palaces  of  now  proud  dynasties  of  kings 
will  have  fallen,  and  wondrous  buildings  of  marble  stateliness  will 
have  long  lain  shattered,  and  the  gardens  of  present  loveliness 
will  have  become  a  dreary  waste,  there  will  be  pilgrims  from  the 
forbidden  valleys  of  old  Cathay  gazing  in  gladness  on  the  beauty 
of  a  Saint  Peter's  in  Rome,  and  worshippers  from  the  isles  of  the 
tropic  seas  kneeling  at  its  altars. 

While  the  spell  is  still  on  you,  and  the  resolution  to  come 
again  and  again  and  again,  you  walk  softly  down  the  long  aisle, 
push  back  the  leathern  curtain  once  more,  and  quietly  descend  the 
steps  into  the  Piazza.  The  old  obelisk  from  Heliopolis  looks  down 
upon  you,  counting  you  as  one  more  on  the  ever-lengthening  roll 
of  pilgrims  to  the  cathedral  of  Christendom.  The  fountains  play- 
ing gracefully  on  either  side  are  cooling  the  summer  air,  and 
whispering  across  the  court  the  memories  of  the  years.  Past  them 
you  go,  your  mind  trembling  under  the  burden  of  a  myriad  thoughts, 
and  your  heart  charged  to  overflowing  with  the  emotions  that  beg 
in  turn  for  the  mastery.  Behind  you  stands  the  church  of  the 
world,  the  church  where  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  have  knelt, 
where  the  mingled  prayers  of  a  hundred  stranger  tongues  have 
ascended  to  Heaven,  where  the  congregated  worship  of  an  army 
throng  has  risen  as  a  cloud  of  incense  to  the  mighty  Father. 
Behind  you  lie  the  sainted  bones  of  martyred  pontiffs  and  the  holy 
remains  of  many  a  Christian  hero,  and  amid  them  all,  waiting 
with  them  the  promised  day  yet  to  dawn  from  the  time-land,  lies 
the  hallowed  dust  of  the  one  who  saw  in  life  the  Master  face  to 
face,  Saint  Peter. 

Such  thoughts  will  be  yours  as  you  walk  along  in  silence. 


172  A  PAINTER'S  VISION  [May, 

Such  thoughts  were  ours  one  summer  day  as  we  crossed  the 
Piazza  and  were  nearing  the  end  of  the  lovely  colonnades.  It 
had  been  all  gladsome  during  the  hours,  and  we  were  happy,  and 
we  were  going  home  to  rest.  And  while  we  waited  for  our  car- 
riage to  drive  up,  we  looked  back  once  more  on  Saint  Peter's 
massive  dome;  once  more  we  viewed  the  splendid  fagade  and  the 
balcony  where  Pius  the  Ninth  used  to  appear  and  raise  his  hand 
in  benediction  to  the  city  and  to  the  world,  while  all  the  city, 
assembled  in  silent  reverence  below,  stood  sponsor  for  the  world; 
once  again  we  let  our  eyes  sweep  across  the  mighty  ellipse  where 
a  nation's  chivalry  might  camp.  We  had  penetrated  more  deeply 
into  the  secret  of  Rome's  fascination;  we  had  approached  a  little 
closer  to  her  ever-elusive  charm;  we  had  been  granted  a  juster 
meaning  of  her  mystery,  and  had  found  a  new  reason  of  her  life 
eternal. 


A  PAINTER'S  VISION. 

BY   CAROLINE  D.    SWAN. 

CLOSE  by  the  sea  a  carven  ruin  stands, 

Of  old,  a  church.     Its  arches,   splendid  yet 
With  red  and  blue  and  gold,  are  sunk  and  wet 

About  their  bases.     Weeds  and  yellow  sands 

Block  up  the  chancel,  though  with  out-stretched  hands 
A  strange,   forsaken  Christ  above  is  set 
In  gold-rimmed  fresco.     Calm  o'er  force  or  fret, 

The  curved  wall  of  the  apse  it  still  commands. 

Is  this  symbolic?    Sea-waves,  creeping  in, 
Have  new-baptized  its  pillars;  flaking  off, 
Broken  mosaics  mar  its  pulpit's  grace. 
Neglect,  the  willful  world,  its  woe  and  sin, 
Are  in  it  all!    Yet  strong,   above  its  scoff, 
The  Changeless  One  presides  with  loving  Face. 


THE  RED  ASCENT. 

BY  ESTHER  W.   NEILL. 

CHAPTER  V. 


HEN  the  imaginary  lady  with  the  "passion  for 
antiques  "  had  completed  her  purchase  of  the  Mat- 
terson  plate,  Richard  received  five  hundred  dollars 
by  express.  Four  hundred  of  this  paid  the  interest 
on  the  mortgage,  the  remaining  hundred  was  ex- 
pended with  infinitesimal  care,  every  cent  so  carefully  guarded 
that  the  Colonel  was  openly  disgusted.  Economy  was  an  abstract 
virtue  that  he  condoned  only  in  the  abstract.  Penuriousness  had 
never  been  practiced  under  his  roof  before. 

For  three  long  evenings  from  supper  until  bedtime,  Richard 
sat  with  pencil  and  paper  planning  how  he  could  spread  out  that 
hundred  dollars  to  cover  his  immediate  needs,  trying  to  decide 
which  of  all  his  necessities  were  most  essential. 

The  list  read :  "  Horse,  plow,  harness,  seed,  bricks,  shingles, 
fence  wire,  lumber."  Then,  halting  for  a  moment  in  his  work,  he 
would  go  to  the  bookcase,  and  getting  out  a  number  of  farm 
journals,  begin  to  study  the  cheapest  and  best  fertilizers  to  add 
to  his  compact  heaps.  True  to  his  habit  of  concentration,  he 
would  spend  hours  poring  over  these  old  magazines,  his  scientific 
instinct  roused  by  new  methods,  modern  devices.  Then  he  would 
begin  another  list  of  necessities :  "  Incubator,  rubber  roofing,  tool 
grinder,  gasoline  engine,  fruit  sprayer."  But  smiling  at  the  im- 
possibility of  securing  these  desirable  appliances,  he  would  throw 
that  list  in  the  fire,  and  begin  again  with  the  most  rudimentary 
tools :  "  Spade,  hoe,  ax,  hammer." 

"  Betty,"  he  said  one  night,  "  I  don't  believe  I  am  very  prac- 
tical after  all." 

The  Colonel,  who  was  half -dozing  in  his  chair,  roused  at  the 
words.  "Has  that  fact  just  dawned  upon  you?"  he  asked. 

"  It's  dawning,"  replied  Richard  good-naturedly.     "  I  am  just 

trying  to  decide  what  we  had  better  do  with  that  hundred  dollars." 

"  God  have  mercy,"  said  the  Colonel.     "  Haven't  you  spent 

that  hundred  dollars  yet,  with  the  house  falling  about  our  ears? 


174  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

Send  for  Joe  Brown  and  have  him  fix  that  chimney ;  that  last  storm 
blew  the  bricks  into  the  kitchen  yard,  and  hire  a  nigger  or  two. 
Your  hands  begin  to  look  like  a  plowman's." 

Richard  regarded  his  offending  members  with  smiling  uncon- 
cern. The  palms  had  blistered  and  then  grown  hard;  the  nails 
were  broken.  The  Colonel's  hands  were  as  soft  and  smooth  as 
a  woman's;  the  nails  pink  and  polished;  attention  to  them  had 
always  been  his  one  feminine  weakness. 

"  Yes,  we  must  have  that  chimney  repaired,"  said  Richard 
reflectively.  "  It's  dangerous  as  it  is." 

"  And  I  need  a  pair  of  slippers  dreadfully"  said  Betty. 
"  Satin  slippers — here  they  are  advertised  in  this  department  store 
catalogue;  French  heels,  chiffon  bows,  five  dollars!  Oh,  Dick! 
I  must  have  a  pair." 

"  All  right,  Betty,"  he  said,  and  to  his  credit  he  did  not 
for  a  moment  consider  what  that  five  dollars  would  buy.  "  I 
believe  it's  one  of  our  traditions  to  dance  when  our  fortunes  have 
failed  us." 

"  It  is,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Your  great-aunts  who  lived  in 
Richmond  were  impoverished  by  the  war.  They  gave  away  all 
their  money  and  clothes  to  help  the  cause;  they  had  nothing  left 
but  their  ball  gowns.  I  found  them  dressed  in  white  satin  sitting 
in  the  drawing-room,  playing  their  guitars,  and,  by  heaven,  sir,  they 
hadn't  a  crumb  in  the  larder." 

"  I  suppose  it's  in  the  blood,"  said  Richard  a  little  wearily. 
"  Now  we  have  a  race  horse — " 

"  I'll  not  sell  her  at  any  price,"  said  the  Colonel  on  the  defen- 
sive at  once.  "  If  we  can't  get  a  living  off  five  hundred  acres 
of  land,  then  we  don't  deserve  to  live,  sir — we  don't  deserve  to  live." 

"  Perhaps  I  don't,"  said  Richard  humorously. 

The  discussion  had  ended  there.  After  a  few  evenings  of 
filial  consideration  of  the  Colonel's  wishes,  Richard  found  that  all 
the  old  gentleman's  ideas,  with  the  exception  of  the  chimney,  were 
impractical.  If  he  could  wrest  a  bare  living  off  the  farm  this 
first  year,  it  must  be  by  his  own  initiative  and  by  his  own  manual 
labor.  The  small  debt  that  he  was  obliged  to  contract  for  dry 
groceries  and  feed  for  the  horses  worried  him.  He  could  not  agree 
to  hire  hands  when  he  had  no  money  to  pay  them  for  their  time. 

Meanwhile  he  sought  advice  from  the  old  farmers  who  worked 
their  truck  gardens  in  his  vicinity,  and  he  listened  eagerly  to  any 
suggestions  offered  by  the  loungers  at  the  village  store;  he  read 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  175 

all  the  books  he  could  borrow  on  horticulture,  and  he  sent  to 
Washington  for  the  bulletins  that  are  issued  there  from  the  Bureau 
of  Soils.  When  he  spent  his  hundred  dollars  the  items  read: 
"  One  pair  of  satin  slippers,  repairing  chimney,  plow,  seeds,  spade, 
hoe,  hammer,  nails,  hinges,  window  glass." 

After  two  months  of  untiring  effort,  Matterson  Hall  began  to 
recover  some  appearance  of  past  prosperity;  the  shutters  swung  on 
strong  new  hinges;  the  windowpanes  had  been  puttied  into  place; 
the  pillar  of  the  porch  had  been  repaired;  the  chimney  bricked 
to  its  normal  height;  the  roses  bloomed  with  wild  profusion  in 
the  carefully  bordered  garden  beds;  in  the  kitchen  garden  some  of 
the  earlier  vegetables  were  ready  for  the  picking,  and  the  green 
blades  of  corn  in  the  moist,  brown  fields  promised  an  abundant 
harvest — but  Richard  had  paid. 

He  was  tired,  physically  exhausted  by  the  unaccustomed  la- 
bors of  a  day.  Too  tired  for  anything  but  a  hurried  prayer  at 
night  as  he  sank  into  a  dreamless  sleep ;  too  tired  for  any  intellectual 
relief  that  he  might  have  found  in  books;  too  tired  to  think,  to 
reason  about  anything  except  the  clamoring  work  for  the  morrow — 
currying  the  horses,  milking  the  cow,  plowing,  digging,  planting, 
grubbing  up  stumps,  blasting  away  rocks,  chopping  wood,  drawing 
water,  working  with  old  tools  that  broke  in  his  energetic  grasp, 
working,  working  feverishly  like  a  prisoner  trying  to  file  his  way 
out  to  liberty.  He  thought  of  the  old  monks  following  the  plow 
in  prayerful  meditation,  but  he  was  not  like  them  he  told  himself. 
He  could  not  work  with  the  ease  and  distraction  of  long-accustomed 
habit.  His  mind  was  focused  on  the  tasks  he  had  to  do,  and  the 
tasks  were  unremitting.  One  pair  of  unpracticed  hands  trying  to 
perform  the  work  of  ten,  and  hampered  at  every  turn  by  the  need 
of  ready  money. 

The  Colonel  was  of  no  assistance.  He  viewed  the  changes 
in  his  home  with  some  satisfaction,  but  disapproved  entirely  of 
Richard's  methods.  A  gentleman  did  not  plow  his  own  fields  when 
the  country  was  full  of  worthless  niggers;  a  gentleman  did  not 
clean  his  own  stable;  a  gentleman  did  not  do  his  own  milking; 
a  gentleman  gave  up  some  time  to  social  intercourse  with  his 
neighbors. 

Richard  found  it  wiser  not  to  take  the  Colonel  too  seriously. 
'  You  have  to  do  the  social  stunt  for  both  of  us,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  too  busy,  and  I  haven't  any  clothes." 

The  lack  of  fresh  clothes  was  a  real  trial  to  him.     He  did  not 


1 76  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

mind  cheapness  or  shabbiness,  but  the  few  suits  he  owned  were  all 
mud-stained,  and  he  had  always  craved  cleanliness.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  ahvays  in  the  dirt.  A  grime  had  crept  under 
his  finger  nails  that  he  could  not  remove;  the  pores  of  his  face 
seemed  clogged  with  dust.  It  was  when  he  realized  that  he  was 
growing  half -indifferent  to  these  facts  that  he  took  his  first  real 
recreation. 

About  half  a  mile  from  the  Hall  there  was  a  small  stream  that 
bubbled  briskly  over  rocks  and  roots,  and  emptied  itself  into  a 
hollow.  In  this  cool-shaded  swimming  pool  Richard  had  spent 
many  hot  afternoons  as  a  boy,  but  the  pool  had  become  shallow 
with  the  years,  or  perhaps  the  difference  was  in  his  own  height. 
He  determined  to  widen  and  deepen  it.  Whenever  he  could  spare 
an  hour  out  of  his  busy  day,  he  worked  like  a  beaver  scooping 
out  the  dead  leaves,  dredging  out  the  stones  and  mud,  digging  away 
the  bank  on  one  side,  and  building  a  dam  with  the  refuse  on  the 
other.  When  the  work  was  finished  and  the  water  had  cleared, 
the  pool  seemed  a  priceless  luxury. 

Anxious  to  share  it  with  someone,  he  improvised  a  little  bath 
house  on  the  fern-grown  bank,  and,  garbed  in  a  bathing  suit  that 
he  had  left  over  from  one  of  his  summer  outings,  he  brought 
Betty  out  to  watch  him  disport  himself  in  the  water.  She  was 
enthusiastic  about  the  place,  and  she  ran  home  to  hunt  a  bathing 
dress  for  herself,  making  him  promise  that  he  would  teach  her 
to  swim. 

After  she  had  gone  he  finished  his  bath,  dressed  himself,  and 
then  lay  for  a  few  moments  outstretched  in  the  shade,  his  body 
so  still  that  some  inquisitive  robins  fluttered  over  him  unafraid  of 
the  big  sunburned  hand  that  seemed  so  impotent  in  its  stillness. 
A  dozen  duties  left  undone  came  into  his  mind  to  plague  him, 
and  destroy  the  perfect  peace  of  this  brief  interim  of  rest.  Perhaps 
next  year  the  farm  would  pay  and  permit  a  breathing  space; 
perhaps  he  could  introduce  some  of  the  modern  time-saving  devices; 
perhaps  he  might  dare  to  go  into  debt  if  a  crop  was  assured.  Now 
his  farming  was  all  experimental.  He  had  no  faith  in  the  outcome. 

His  seminary  life  seemed  drifting  from  him  into  a  dim  back- 
ground. He  had  put  all  thought  of  it  away  from  him  purposely. 
He  never  could  go  back.  The  Colonel  needed  him;  Betty  needed 
him,  and,  believing  that  he  was  facing  the  inevitable,  the  keenness 
of  his  disappointment  lessened,  and  even  his  desire  to  return  seemed 
dulled.  After  all  if  the  grind  of  the  work  could  be  lifted,  he  could 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  177 

find  vast  satisfaction  in  the  life  of  a  scholar.  He  could  supervise 
the  farm  with  an  intelligence  that  would  make  it  a  paying  proposi- 
tion; he  could  live  the  calm  peaceful  life  of  the  old-time  planter, 
and  he  could  write.  It  might  be  possible  that  his  pen  would  prove 
more  powerful  than  his  preaching.  His  day  dream  was  interrupted 
by  someone  lifting  his  hand,  and  a  woman's  voice  said: 

"  I  thought  you  were  dead  or  hurt.  You  always  were  pro- 
voking." 

He  looked  up  lazily.  A  girl  stood  leaning  against  one  of  the 
tree  trunks,  dressed  in  a  black  riding  habit,  which  was  covered  with 
mud.  She  wore  no  hat;  her  hair  plaited  in  two  thick  braids  fell 
across  her  shoulders;  her  riding  boots  were  muddy  to  the  ankles. 
One  cheek  bore  a  daub  of  dirt  that  made  the  rest  of  her  face  look 
all  the  fairer  by  contrast.  Her  appearance  was  so  startling  that 
Richard  rose  hastily,  oblivious  to  any  conventional  greeting. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  laughed  with  no  trace  of  embarrassment.  "  I  came  over 
my  horse's  head  into  that  mud  puddle,  if  you  must  know." 

"  And  where  is  the  horse  ?  " 

"  He  has  run  away." 

"Which  way?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  care.  Please  don't  think  of  catching  him.  I 
never  want  to  see  him  again." 

"But  why  didn't  I  hear  him  breaking  through  the  bushes?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  that  either." 

"Are  you  hurt?" 

"Now  isn't  that  a  foolish  question?  Do  you  suppose  if 
I  had  been  hurt  that  I  would  have  been  so  solicitous  about  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know  you  were  solicitous." 

"  Didn't  I  cross  that  stream  on  stepping-stones,  and  climb  up 
that  slippery  bank,  to  discover  if  you  were  dead  or  not?" 

"  And  having  discovered  that  I  was  alive,  you  said,  'How 
provoking.' ' 

"  Of  course — don't  you  know  who  I  am?  " 

"  A  friend  of  the  coroner's,  I  should  suppose,"  he  said  humor- 
ously. 

She  met  this  remark  by  pulling  off  her  mud-caked  gloves, 
and  shutting  her  eyes  until  they  were  mere  slits,  she  pulled  down 
the  corners  of  her  mouth,  "  Now  don't  I  look  more  familiar  ?  " 

He  laughed  at  the  absurdity  of  the  grimace.  "  I  don't  think 
I  ever  saw  you  before,"  he  said  frankly,  "  unless — " 

VOL.   XCVIL— 12. 


i78  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

"  Go  on." 

"  Unless  you're — Jess  Fielding." 

"  I  am.  I  thought  you  would  remember.  I  used  to  make 
faces  at  you  over  the  fence.  I  was  poor  white  trash 
dressed  in  a  gingham  apron,  and  a  sun  bonnet,  snub  nose,  freckle 
face,  now — " 

"  You  don't  look  like  that  now,"  he  said  awkwardly. 

"Think  I've  improved?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"And  I  suppose  that's  a  compliment,"  she  said  teasingly. 
"  I  never  contradict  compliments.  People  ought  to  be  encouraged 
to  say  pleasant  things  in  this  uncomfortable  world." 

"Is  it  uncomfortable?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"Why?" 

"  Because — well  people  seldom  get  what  they  want,  and  when 
they  do — they  don't  want  it.  Isn't  that  lucid?  " 

"  Very,"  he  smiled. 

"  Now,  you  haven't  got  what  you  want." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"  I  heard  you  wanted  to  be  a  priest." 

He  was  a  trifle  annoyed  at  this  discussion  of  his  private  affairs. 
"  I've  given  up  that  idea,"  he  said  quietly. 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  and  began  to  scrape  the  mud  off 
her  riding  boots.  "  So  have  I,"  she  said. 

He  looked  bewildered.     "  I  don't  exactly  see,"  he  began. 

"Of  course  you  don't.  Men  always  want  to  see  everything. 
That's  one  reason  they  are  so  unsatisfactory.  They  never  feel  their 
way  round  corners  like  women  do.  You  thought  of  being  a  priest, 
gave  it  up — no  disgrace  in  that.  I  thought  of  being  a  nun.  Is 
that  more  startling?  It  was  only  a  mood  with  me;  I  didn't  have 
any  vocation;  I  didn't  even  go  to  the  convent  to  try;  I  couldn't 
stand  the  monotony  of  the  life;  I'm  too  turbulent,  impulsive,  im- 
pious; I'm  just  tired." 

"  Tired,"  the  word  sunk  deep  in  his  heart,  and  roused  him  to 
sympathy  and  confidences.  "  So  am  I,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I'm  tired  of  being  useless,  and  you're  tired  because 
you  have  to  work  so  hard.  I'd  like  to  come  over  and  help  you 
dig." 

*'  I  haven't  any  tools,"  he  said.  He  did  not  realize  the  hope- 
lessness that  had  crept  into  his  tones;  he  did  not  know  that  with 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  179 

her  quick  intuition  she  had  comprehended  the  struggle  he  was 
making. 

"  I'll  send  you  some." 

"  I'll  have  to  pay  for  them  with  radishes." 

"  Why,  haven't  you  any  money?  " 

The  question  would  have  seemed  preposterous  in  a  drawing- 
room.  Here  in  the  woods,  in  the  strangeness  of  their  meeting,  the 
conventions  did  not  seem  to  count. 

"  No,"  he  said. 

"  And  I  have  too  much." 

"Too  much?"  he  repeated.  "I  did  not  know  anyone  ever 
had  too  much." 

"  But  they  can.  We  have  too  much  now.  We  used  to  have 
too  little.  You  remember  how  poor  we  were.  I  had  to  go  to  bed 
when  mother  washed  my  dress.  I  only  had  one.  Poor  mother 
died  in  the  struggle;  then  father  struck  oil.  Now  he  has  silver 
mines,  coal  mines,  oil  wells,  railroads;  I've  been  everywhere.  I 
went  to  school  in  Paris,  Germany,  Italy.  I've  been  around  the 
world  three  times;  I've  studied  art  and  music  and  the  languages. 
I  haven't  a  particle  of  talent  for  anything.  I've  motored,  and 
driven  and  ridden  on  camels  and  elephants ;  I've  climbed  mountains, 
crossed  deserts,  met  all  kinds  of  people.  Now  I've  come  back. 
I  know  you  will  laugh,  but  I  wanted  to  come  back  here  where 
everybody  snubbed  me  in  the  old  days — back  here  to  make  good." 

But  Richard  did  not  smile,  and  she  went  on :  "  Father  has 
bought  the  old  Hedricks'  coal  mines,  five  miles  from  here.  You 
remember  old  Mr.  Hedricks  had  so  much  trouble  with  negro  labor  ? 
Father  has  brought  all  sorts  of  foreigners  down.  Such  a  con- 
glomerate mass,  and  they  live  like  pigs." 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  I  was  over  there  yesterday;  but  I  think 
that  is  partly  your  fault." 

"My  fault?" 

"  You  own  the  mines.  You  could  build  them  decent  houses, 
give  them  higher  wages;  I  think  the  owner  ought  to  help." 

"  Hm,"  she  said  reflectively.  "  Suppose  you  were  the  owner  ? 
I  hear  the  Colonel  declares  you  are;  he's  going  around  the  county 
telling  people  that  my  grandfather  forged  the  papers  giving  him 
the  title  to  the  Texas  land.  Without  the  Texas  lands  we  would  be 
nowhere.  I'd  still  be  wearing  my  sun-bonnet  and  my  outgrown 
gingham  dress." 

"  What  does  your  father  say?  " 


i8o  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

"  Father  ?  He's  not  here.  He's  out  west  looking  into  copper 
mines.  I  shouldn't  think  it  would  be  his  mission  to  go  to  work  to 
prove  himself  a  pauper,  and  your  father — well,  please  pardon  me, 
but  everybody  knows  that  the  Colonel  is  too  lazy  to  work  for 
anything."  She  got  up  and  tried  to  beat  some  of  the  mud  off  her 
skirt  with  her  riding  crop.  "  I  must  be  going,"  she  said.  "  Miss 
Prunesy  Prisms  will  see  my  horse  and  get  worried  about  me." 

"  And  who  is  she  ?  "  he  asked. 

Miss  Fielding  laughed.  "  Haven't  we  asked  each  other  a  lot 
of  questions?  Very  bad  form  to  ask  questions.  Miss  Prunesy 
would  be  scandalized,  but  being  polite  is  one  of  the  things  I'm  tired 
of.  Miss  Prunesy  is  a  pet  name  I  have  for  my  old  governess. 
She  lives  with  me.  She  comes  from  New  England,  and  is  very 
punctilious.  I  call  her  Prunesy  Prisms  partly  on  that  account,  and 
partly  because  I  found  her  in  a  cheap  boarding  house  in  Boston, 
the  kind  of  boarding  house  that  has  one  prismatic  chandelier  in 
the  parlor,  and  that  feeds  you  on  prunes  three  times  a  day.  I'm 
very  fond  of  Prunesy;  she  chaperones  me,  and  I  mother  her.  She's 
not  very  practical;  she's  spooky." 

"Spooky?" 

"  Believes  in  ghosts.  Hopes  to  see  one  some  day.  Makes  a 
study  of  the  occult.  If  it  weren't  for  her  religion  and  her  rheuma- 
tism I  believe  she  would  go  live  in  a  graveyard  and  try  to  chum 
with  disembodied  spirits,  but  since  I've  adopted  her  she's  grown 
quite  cheerful  and  normal.  Now  I'm  really  going.  Come  and 
see  me,  won't  you?  " 

He  shook  his  head.     "  I  won't  have  the  time,"  he  answered. 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him :  "  Why  that's  the  only  reason 
I  want  you,"  she  smiled. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

When  Richard  reached  home  it  was  four  o'clock.  He  had 
wasted  two  hours  of  a  precious  day.  It  had  been  so  long  since 
he  allowed  himself  any  leisure,  that  he  felt  conscious-stricken  when 
Betty  met  him  at  the  door  and  asked: 

*"  Where  have  you  been  all  this  time  ?  " 

"  I've  been  talking  to  Miss  Fielding." 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  181 

"Why,  where  did  you  meet  her?" 

"  Down  by  the  swimming  pool.  Her  horse  threw  her  into 
a  mud  puddle,  but  fortunately  she  was  not  hurt." 

"How  did  she  look?"  * 

"  Well,  she  looked  rather  muddy." 

"  Oh,  Dick — Dick,  you  know  what  I  mean?  Is  she  as  beautiful 
as  people  say  she  is  ?  " 

He  looked  perplexed.     "  I  don't  know." 

"Didn't  you  look  at  her?" 

"Why,  yes." 

"And  you  don't  know  whether  she  is  pretty  or  not?  " 

"Why,  I  suppose  she  is;  I  never  thought  about  it." 

"  Well,  you  are  funny,"  said  Betty  with  a  hopeless  shake  of  her 
head.  "  Most  men  think  of  that  the  first  thing.  I've  been  crazy 
to  see  her.  They  say  she  has  traveled  everywhere,  and  that  she 
was  presented  at  court  in  a  white  satin  dress  with  a  train  four  yards 
long." 

"  Must  have  been  dreadfully  in  the  way,"  he  interrupted. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  it  was,  but  think  of  being  rich  enough  to  trail 
four  yards  of  satin  over  a  dusty  floor,  and  not  care  whether  it  gets 
dirty  or  not." 

"  Let  us  hope  the  floor  wasn't  dusty." 

"  You  are  never  serious,"  said  Betty.  "  Don't  you  know  that 
all  women  adore  clothes?  I'm  getting  dreadfully  tired  of  being 
shabby;"  she  sat  down  on  the  top  step,  and,  leaning  her  curly 
head  against  one  of  the  porch  pillars,  she  looked  ruefully  down 
at  her  soiled  linen  skirt.  "  I  don't  suppose  I'll  ever  have  anything," 
she  sighed.  "  I  came  home  to  see  if  I  could  find  something 
to  cut  into  a  bathing  suit,  and  there's  nothing.  Jess  Fielding 
seems  to  have  everything.  You  know  they  have  come  to  live  in 
the  old  Hedricks'  house.  People  say  they've  turned  it  into  a 
palace;  brocade  covered  walls;  all  kinds  of  hand-carved  furniture 
they  bought  in  Europe;  electric  lights;  five  landscape  gardeners 
fixing  the  grounds,  and  we — we  have  nothing." 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "  I  think  we  have  a 
great  deal." 

"  We  have  a  roof  above  our  heads  and  a  bed  to  sleep  on;  what 
else  ?  We  have  no  money,  and  I  don't  see  how  we  are  going  to  get 
on  any  longer  without  it.  Bonny  has  a  calf,  that  means  no  milk 
or  butter  for  us;  the  cow  shed  is  leaking;  there's  some  kind  of 
a  bug  eating  the  beans  you  planted  in  the  garden ;  the  chickens  need 


182  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

feed;  the  cornmeal  bin  is  empty,  and  the  Colonel  has  ordered  a 
new  bridle  for  Spangles — I  don't  know  how  he  expects  to  pay  for 
it — and  Jess  Fielding  has  invited  us  to  a  masquerade  party,  and — 
and  I  haven't  a  thing  to  wear." 

It  was  a  climax.  Betty  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
sobbed.  Richard  sat  down  beside  her.  He  felt  weak  with  a  sense 
of  failure.  From  his  normal  point  of  view,  Betty's  lack  of  a  ball 
gown  would  have  seemed  a  small  tragedy,  but  he  was  not  normal. 
Exhausted  by  overwork  in  the  fields,  beset  continually  by  the  in- 
numerable demands  of  the  household,  fearing  to  go  in  debt  himself, 
yet  having  to  struggle  to  keep  down  the  Colonel's  luxurious  ex- 
penditures, Betty's  tears  made  him  feel  powerless,  mercenary,  des- 
perate. But  his  long-practiced  efforts  at  self-control  now  made  his 
voice  fall  calm  and  unafraid. 

"  If  it's  a  masquerade,  any  kind  of  fancy  fixing  will  do.  I'm 
sure  we  can  find  something  in  the  attic." 

Her  tears  were  like  a  sudden  rainfall.  She  wiped  them  hur- 
riedly away,  reassured  by  his  suggestion. 

"  What  will  you  wear?  "  she  asked. 

"Me?" 

"  Why,  you're  invited  too,  and  where  can  you  get  a  costume?  " 

"That's  easy,"  he  answered.  "I'll  be  delighted  to  stay  at 
home." 

"  But  you  can't,"  she  said  with  great  finality.  "  You  will 
have  to  take  me.  I  can't  drive  five  miles  through  the  woods  at 
midnight,  and  have  one  of  those  fearful  foreign  miners  murder 
me  on  the  way." 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  so  very  much  ?  " 

"  Why,  Dick,  I'd  be  broken-hearted  if  I  had  to  stay  at  home. 
I'd  go  if  I  had  to  walk  all  the  distance.  You  will  have  to  take  me. 
You  surely  wouldn't  be  cruel  enough  to  deprive  me  of  a  pleasure 
like  this." 

"  But,  Betty,  dear,  I  don't  know  what  to  do  at  parties." 

"Why  you  dance?" 

"  I  don't  know  how." 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  sit  around  and  talk  to  the  girls." 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  do  that  either." 

"  Why,  Dick !  Didn't  you  ever  go  to  parties  when  you  were 
at  college?" 

"'  Not  if  I  could  help  it." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  disappoint  me,  Dick  ?  "     Her  voice  was 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  183 

very  appealing,  and  she  looked  so  woebegone  that  he  put  his  arm 
affectionately  around  her.  "  I'll  do  anything  you  say,  Betty,  dear, 
but  if  we  haven't  anything  to  wear,  I  suppose  that  you  will  agree 
that  we  will  have  to  stay  at  home." 

"But  we'll  find  something,"  she  said,  her  natural  optimism 
fully  restored.  "  Come  with  me  and  lift  down  the  trunks,  they 
are  piled  high  on  top  of  one  another.  I  never  thought  of  it  before, 
but  there  must  be  all  kinds  of  dead  people's  clothes  in  the  attic." 

Richard  followed  her  with  heavy  steps.  His  sensibilities  were 
finer  than  Betty's.  Her  words :  "  dead  people's  clothes  "  had  made 
him  regret  his  suggestion.  To  go  rummaging  among  the  belongings 
of  the  departed  for  a  masquerade  costume  seemed  to  belittle  their 
memories.  But  the  fancy  was  a  foolish  one,  he  told  himself, 
and  the  situation  worthy  of  another  interpretation.  After  all,  if 
Betty's  mother  and  grandmother  had  been  alive,  they  would  have 
offered  their  wearing  apparel  willingly  to  aid  the  child.  And  if  he 
was  obliged  to  escort  Betty,  he  determined  not  to  destroy  her 
pleasure  by  going  grudgingly. 

The  attic  was  a  creepy  place,  dimly  lighted,  full  of  odd-shaped 
bundles  that  required  little  imagination  to  transform  them  into 
ghostly  shapes.  One  of  the  Colonel's  old  suits  hung  from  the 
rafters,  looking  like  the  body  of  a  successful  suicide;  a  rag  bag 
lying  prone  in  one  corner  resembled  a  fat  old  woman,  who  had 
fallen  in  a  hopeless  heap  waiting  for  someone  to  help  her  to  her 
legs  again.  Richard  opened  one  of  the  creaking  shutters,  the 
summer  sunshine  dispelled  the  illusions,  and  forced  these  cast- 
away possessions  back  into  a  world  of  reality  again. 

It  had  been  years  since  Richard  had  been  in  the  attic.  He  had 
romped  here  when  he  was  a  boy,  but  now  to  his  maturer  mind 
the  place  seemed  sacred  with  memories  of  his  mother.  A  little 
wooden  rocking  cradle  stood  empty  in  one  corner,  a  withered 
spray  of  roses  on  the  ruffled  pillow.  As  he  lifted  the  dried  flowers 
they  fell  to  dust  in  his  hands.  He  guessed  that  his  mother  had 
put  them  there,  intentionally  bringing  them  from  the  garden  in 
all  their  beauty,  and  placing  them  where  the  pink  baby  faces 
had  rested,  marking  a  grief  to  motherhood  that  comes  when  cradles 
are  outgrown  and  children  emerge  from  that  state  of  absolute 
helplessness  so  precious  with  the  privilege  of  service. 

In  one  trunk  Richard's  toys  were  treasured,  and  in  a  box  were 
the  curls  that  the  Colonel  had  insisted  upon  cropping  off  when 
his  son  was  six.  Richard  remembered  that  when  the  scissors 


184  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

had  begun  their  work  of  destruction,  his  mother  had  cried,  and 
the  Colonel  had  sneered  at  her  for  being  a  sentimentalist.  And 
Richard's  joy  at  getting  rid  of  his  hated  hair  had  been  tempered 
by  a  vague  feeling  of  indignation  towards  his  father. 

His  mother  had  died  when  he  was  nine;  if  she  had  lived  she 
would  have  given  him  the  sympathy  that  the  Colonel  had  denied 
him.  If  she  had  lived  his  boyhood  would  have  been  brightened, 
his  struggle  to  gain  an  education  would  have  been  lessened,  and, 
in  some  wise  woman's  way,  she  might  have  made  even  this  last 
sacrifice  unnecessary.  She  would  have  fostered  his  idealism,  and 
he  could  have  gone  on  somehow  in  the  life  he  had  elected  to  lead. 

He  banished  these  thoughts  from  his  mind  and  turned  to 
Betty.  "Do  you  want  that  big  trunk  lifted  down?"  In  these 
last  few  months  he  had  schooled  himself,  when  he  began  to  have 
regrets,  to  seize  upon  the  first  practical  work  that  presented  itself. 

"  Let's  explore  this  camphor  chest  first,"  she  said,  falling  on 
her  knees  to  fumble  with  the  rusty  lock.  "  Oh,  Dick !  Dick !  Look 
here.  The  very  thing.  It's  grandfather's  uniform — Mexican  war 
uniform — not  a  hole — gold  plated  buttons.  If  they  had  been  brass 
they  would  have  tarnished  long  ago.  Look  at  the  breadth  of  the 
shoulders.  Look  at  the  epaulettes.  Try  it  on,  Dick.  Oh,  try 
it  on." 

Richard  obligingly  threw  off  his  coat,  and  thrust  his  arms  in 
the  uniform  that  Betty  held  out  to  him.  "  Oh,  it  fits  like  it  was 
made  for  you,"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands.  "  You  couldn't 
get  in  the  Colonel's  clothes,  but  grandfather  was  a  big  man  like  you. 
Oh,  it's  the  best  kind  of  a  masquerade  costume,  Dick.  Dick,  you 
look  like  an  angel." 

He  ran  his  fingers  over  the  smooth  cloth  with  some  satisfaction. 
"  A  brass-buttoned  angel !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  It's  just  splendid,"  said  Betty.  "  Such  a  lot  of  buttons,  and 
the  fit.  Oh,  Dick,  you  really  ought  to  join  the  army.  You're — 
you're  just  superb.  Now  if  I  can  only  find  something  as  good." 

He  knelt  down  beside  her  to  aid  her  in  her  search.  "  Nothing 
here  but  men's  clothes,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"  Shirts,"  said  Richard  triumphantly.  "  Ruffled  shirts,  I'm 
going  to  replenish  my  wardrobe;  they  may  be  a  hundred  years 
behind  the  times,  but  they  are  clean,  Betty,  they  are  clean.  I'll 
lift  down  this  other  trunk  for  you.  Surely  we  can  find  something 
for  you  among  so  many  boxes." 

"  Take  off  that  coat,"  commanded  Betty.     "  I  wouldn't  have 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  185 

you  tear  it  for  the  world.  It's  too  beautiful.  You  can't  miss 
the  masquerade  now  that  you  have  something  so  fine  to  wear." 

He  threw  the  coat  obediently  into  the  cradle,  and  exerting  his 
great  strength  he  lifted  a  heavily-packed  trunk  from  the  pile  that 
reached  to  the  ceiling.  As  he  did  so  a  thin  box  clattered  to  his  feet, 
and  a  heap  of  old  letters  were  scattered  on  the  floor.  As  he  stooped 
to  pick  them  up,  mechanically,  the  yellow  papers  suggested  a 
thought  to  him. 

"  Betty,"  he  said,  "  did  you  ever  hear  anyone  besides  the 
Colonel  talk  about  our  claim  to  that  Texas  land  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Betty,  busy  with  the  refractory  lid  of  the  trunk. 
"Did  you?" 

"  Miss  Fielding  mentioned  it  to-day,"  he  answered. 

"Jess  Fielding?" 

"  She  said  they  might  belong  to  us." 

"  Then  why  doesn't  she  give  them  back  ?  " 

"Why  should  she?     We  can't  prove  it." 

"  But  why  couldn't  we?  " 

"  I've  been  thinking  that,"  he  said  slowly,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  papers  in  his  hand.  "  These  papers  are  my  grand- 
father's. This  seems  to  be  a  love  letter." 

"  Oh,  let  me  see,"  said  Betty  jumping  up.  She  leaned  against 
her  brother's  shoulder,  and  for  a  time  they  stood  in  silence,  both 
intent  upon  this  romance  of  long  ago. 

"  I  don't  call  that  a  love  letter,"  she  said  at  last.  "  It's  too 
stilted." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Richard.  "I  don't  believe  I'm  an 
authority  on  the  subject." 

"  Why,  didn't  you  ever  get  one  ?  Didn't  you  know  any  girls 
when  you  were  at  college?" 

"They  didn't  write  me  letters." 

"  Dear  me !  I  don't  see  why,  but  they  will  after  they  see  you 
in  that  gorgeous  uniform." 

He  smiled  a  little  wearily.  "Don't  frighten  me,  Betty," 
he  said. 

"  Pooh!  "  said  Betty.  "  Everybody  gets  love  letters;  I've  got 
a  band-box  full  myself." 

"You?" 

"  Of  course.  I  may  live  out  here  in  the  wild  woods,  but  we 
occasionally  have  visitors  in  the  county.  No  girl  could  live  this 
far  South  without  getting  love  letters." 


i86  THE  RED  ASCENT  [May, 

"  I'll  take  your  word  for  it,"  he  agreed.  He  was  turning  over 
the  papers  with  more  interest.  "  Betty,"  he  said,  "  if  there  is 
any  truth  in  what  the  Colonel  believes  that  the  title  was  forged, 
well,  here  we  have  grandfather's  signature  dozens  of  times  on  these 
letters.  I'm  going  to  take  this  box  to  my  room.  I'm  going  to  sit 
up  nights.  I'm  going  to  see  if  there's  any  truth,  or  law,  or  justice 
in  that  Fielding  claim.  How  would  you  like  to  have  a  million 
dollars,  Betty,  dear?" 

"  A  million !     I  would  die  of  joy,"  she  said. 

"  Then  we  had  better  not  try  to  get  it  if  the  effect  is  to  be  so 
deplorable." 

"  It  would  be  delightful,"  said  Betty,  pausing  for  a  moment  in 
her  foraging.  "  Then  we  would  have  everything  that  Jess  Fielding 
has  now." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  that  phase  of  it  especially  appeals  to 
me.  If  we  only  had  something." 

"If  we  only  had,"  said  Betty  shaking  her  head.  "Oh!  I 
want  a  good  riding  horse.  The  Colonel  won't  let  me  ride  Spangles. 
I  have  stolen  her  twice  on  the  sly." 

"  Betty,  Betty,"  he  said  disapprovingly.  "  You  had  no  right  to 
do  that.  Spangles  is  no  fit  horse  for  a  woman  to  ride.  She  will 
kill  you." 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does,"  said  Betty,  with  a  willful  toss  of 
her  head. 

Richard  forced  her  to  look  straight  into  his  face.  "  Betty," 
he  began,  "  I  hate  to  hear  you  talk  like  that.  Promise  me  that 
you  won't  ride  Spangles  any  more.  Promise  me." 

"  Well,  I  won't  if  we  get  the  Fielding's  money.  Then  we 
can  have  the  finest  stables  in  the  state.  Oh!  I  do  love  blooded 
horses,  Dick." 

"  So  do  I,"  he  admitted. 

"And  we  could  travel,  Dick,  travel  everywhere — Europe — 
Asia — and  we  could  go  to  India  and  shoot  tigers,  Dick." 

"  Well  that's  about  the  last  of  my  ambitions." 

"  Oh,  I'd  dote  on  shooting  tigers,  Dick,  and  I  could,  too ;  I'm 
a  good  shot.  The  Colonel  and  I  have  been  shooting  at  targets 
ever  since  I  was  big  enough  to  hold  a  pistol,  but  what's  the  use? 
No  fun  shooting  rabbits  here." 

"  Well  you  can  leave  me  out  of  the  India  expedition;  I'll  go  to 
Italy,  buy  myself  a  gondola,  and  lie  on  my  back  for  six  months 
and  rest." 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  187 

"  What's  the  use  of  talking,"  said  Betty,  "  we'll  never  have 
anything.  Oh,  yes,  we  will !  Look  here.  Oh,  look  here !  " 

From  the  bottom  of  the  trunk  she  brought  a  white  satin  dress 
festooned  in  lace  and  orange  blossoms.  "  Oh,  Dick — Dick !  "  she 
cried  in  an  ecstasy.  "  It's  my  grandmother's  wedding  gown.  Big 
as  a  balloon,  and  here — here  is  the  hoop  skirt  to  go  with  it." 

"  Why,  Betty,  child,  you  can't  wear  that,  that's  some  sort 
of  a  cage." 

"  It's  a  hoop  skirt,  Dick,  and  isn't  it  funny,  and  won't  I 
look  fine!  You  and  I  will  be  the  greatest  things  at  the  party." 
She  gathered  up  the  old-fashioned  dress  and  the  white  wedding 
veil.  "  I'm  going  to  my  room  to  try  them  on." 

Richard  shut  the  window  and  followed  her.  "  Have  you  your 
uniform?"  she  asked. 

But  he  had  forgotten  it.  In  one  arm  he  carried  a  dozen  of  his 
grandfather's  shirts,  in  the  other  hand  he  held  the  tin  box  of 
papers.  It  beat  against  the  banisters  as  he  descended  the  narrow 
stairs. 


[TO    BE   CONTINUED.] 


LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE.* 

BY   KATHARINE   TYNAN. 

N  the  Ireland  of  my  young  days — doubtless  in  the 
Ireland  of  to-day  to  a  somewhat  less  extent — there 
was  an  extraordinary  laissez  faire  where  matters  of 
health  and  sanitation  were  concerned,  which  one 
might  better  describe  as  fatalism. 
The  terrible  holocaust  of  the  young  in  Ireland,  mainly  pre- 
ventible,  was  brought  home  to  me  recently  when  I  was  writing 
a  volume  of  Reminiscences  which  covered  the  period  of  my  youth. 
One  after  another  of  the  friends  of  mygirlhood  slips  out  of  the  circle 
of  life  and  vanishes  from  my  pages,  with  half  the  song  unsung,  with 
half  the  story  untold,  silently,  mysteriously,  passing  away  to  join 
their  fellows  in  the  mists  and  shadows.  Preventible  deaths,  nearly 
all  of  them — a  neglected  cold,  insufficient  clothing,  stuffy  houses, 
unsuitable  food,  and  stewed  tea,  turned  many  a  young  creature  from 
the  destiny  of  life  its  Creator  had  allotted  to  it. 

All  these  causes  operate  still  in  Ireland  to  swell  the  death-rate, 
but  not,  I  must  believe,  to  the  appalling  extent  which  they  did  in  my 
girlhood :  at  least,  people  do  not  now,  or  need  not,  cast  away  their 
lives  through  ignorance,  since  the  work  of  Lady  Aberdeen  and 
the  Women's  National  Health  Association  has  become  so  wide- 
spread in  Ireland. 

I  will  tell  you  how  the  poor  lived  in  my  young  days  in  Ireland, 
as  I  knew  it  from  personal  experience.  A  family  of  a  husband  and 
wife  and  eight  or  nine  children  lived  at  my  father's  gates.  The 
cottage  was  a  two-roomed  one,  with  a  clay  floor,  which  in  wet 
weather  became  as  much  puddled  as  the  road  outside.  The  kitchen 
was  the  family  sitting-room.  There  was  no  grate,  but  an  open 
hearth  on  which  green  twigs  burned  for  a  fire,  filling  the  throat 
and  eyes  with  acrid  smoke.  There  was  a  table,  a  long  stool, 
and  a  dresser  covered  with  cheap  crockery.  There  was  a  little 
square  window  high  in  the  wall  filled  with  geraniums:  these 
windows  were  not  made  to  open;  but  it  mattered  less  since  the 

*This  article  will  be  of  special  interest  to  our  readers  because  of  the  share 
many  prorAinent  Irish-Americans  have  taken  in  the  anti-tuberculosis  crusade  in 
Ireland.  His  Eminence  Cardinal  Farley  was  among  the  first  to  contribute  gener- 
ously to  the  movement. — [ED.  C.  W.] 


1913.]  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  189 

door  stood  always  open.  There  was  no  ceiling  but  the  bare  rafters, 
on  which  a  few  hens  roosted. 

The  bedroom  was  divided  by  a  partition  wall,  which  went  only 
half-way  to  the  ceiling.  It  contained  one  bed,  covered  with  a  mis- 
cellaneous assortment  of  rags  of  one  kind  or  another.  I  never 
knew  how  they  slept,  the  father  and  mother  and  eight  children, 
but  in  that  room  children  were  brought  into  the  world,  and  sick 
children  nursed,  and  mysteries  of  life  there  were,  but  none  of 
death,  for  in  my  memory  of  them  the  children  lived  and  flourished, 
as  the  better-housed,  better- fed  children  in  the  English  villages  never 
seem  to  me  to  do. 

It  must  have  been  somewhat  thick  at  night,  with  the  father 
and  mother  and  eight  children,  and  the  hens,  and  perhaps  a  cat  or 
a  dog.  But  perhaps  the  door  let  in  the  wind.  They  had  one  or 
two  priceless  advantages:  the  babies  were  always  nursed  by  their 
mothers,  and  the  Irish  knew  nothing  of  patent  medicines.  Nor 
were  the  children  in  danger  of  being  fed  on  cheese  and  beer  and 
pickled  onions,  as  I  have  seen  them  in  an  English  village,  for 
their  parents  had  no  such  dainties.  The  children  were  a  living 
proof  that  over-feeding  is  a  more  deadly  thing  than  under-feeding, 
as  the  Irish  peasant  proved  at  all  ages  compared  with  his  English 
brother. 

Sanitation  or  water  supply  these  cabins  had  none.  This  was 
so  much  a  typical  case  that  no  one  ever  thought  an  improvement 
in  the  standard  of  living  possible :  it  did  not  enter  into  one's  pur- 
view at  all.  It  was  so  and  it  would  always  be  so :  as  in  the  Irish 
houses,  even  very  pretentious  houses,  the  servants  slept  in  dark 
holes,  windowless,  fire-placeless,  off  the  kitchen,  and  spent  their 
days  and  nights  underground. 

The  poor  never  complained.  The  Irish  servants  were  cheerful 
and  attached.  If  the  poor  were  only  half-fed,  their  masters  were 
only  half-fed  too.  They  were  all  happy  together  with  a  gaiety 
unknown  to  an  over-fed  nation.  The  spiritual  virtues  throve. 
They  had  never  heard  of  "  cleanliness  being  next  to  godliness ;" 
or  if  they  had  it  was  a  counsel  of  perfection  beyond  them,  clean- 
liness being  a  chilly  thing  and  dirt  comfortable  and  warm.  But — 
perhaps  it  was  worse  in  the  town  than  the  country — the  number  of 
the  young  who  got  up  and  left  the  firesides  somewhere  between  their 
twentieth  and  thirtieth  year,  going  out  with  veiled  heads  into  the 
darkness,  was  terrible.  A  spell  of  cold  winds  in  Dublin  in  the  old 
days — an  East  wind  on  a  Fairyhouse  or  Punchestown  day — brought 
the  reckless  young  tumbling  to  earth  like  leaves  in  a  gale  from  an 


IQO  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  [May, 

autumnal  tree.  It  was  always  lungs,  pneumonia  or  consumption 
following  on  a  chill.  The  last  thing  an  Irishman  or  woman  troubles 
about  is  a  meal.  He  will  take  a  meal  whenever  he  is  ready  for  it, 
or  it  is  ready  for  him.  She  won't  take  it  at  all :  a  cup  of  tea  and 
a  bun  will  keep  her  going  all  day.  My  father,  I  remember,  used 
to  go  abroad  in  his  fields  after  a  slight  breakfast,  and  if  there  was 
anything  special  going  on  would  not  come  back  till  evening.  I 
suppose  that  adaptable  creature,  the  stomach,  had  ceased  to  com- 
plain. It  was  a  curious  matter  of  pride  with  the  Irish  in  those 
days,  that  they  did  not  care  for  their  food.  They  were  a  spiritual 
people,  unlike  the  English  meat-eaters. 

At  that  time  no  one  apparently  thought  that  things  could  be 
helped.  There  were  all  manner  of  philanthropies  going  on  in 
Dublin,  which  is  immensely  charitable.  Of  alleviation  of  sickness 
and  suffering  there  was  much.  But  as  for  segregation,  disinfection, 
sanitary  measures,  there  was  little  knowledge  of  them. 

I  came  back  to  Ireland,  after  an  absence  of  nearly  a 
score  of  years,  with  a  very  open  mind  about  the  things 
I  had  heard  Lady  Aberdeen  and  her  Women's  National  Health 
Association  were  doing.  The  whole  laisscz  faire  section  in  Ireland 
was  up  in  arms.  There  was  one  very  thin  argument,  which  you 
may  hear  still  in  the  mouths  of  Lady  Aberdeen's  opponents :  the 
thinness  becomes  more  apparent  by  repetition:  it  is,  that  Lady 
Aberdeen's  movement  for  fighting  consumption  has  given  Ireland 
a  bad  name;  if  you  ask  for  instances  you  are  told  that  English 
tourists  are  afraid  to  come  to  Ireland,  and  that  Irish  servants  will 
not  obtain  situations  in  England  because  we  are  all  supposed  to  be 
tuberculous.  Well,  these  effects,  if  they  are  true,  do  not  touch 
the  root  of  the  matter.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  English  tourist 
keeps  away  from  Ireland  because  of  the  fight  against  consumption. 
He  is  far  more  likely  to  be  kept  away  by  bad  and  dear  hotels. 
The  Irish  servant,  in  my  knowledge  of  her,  does  not  want  to  go 
to  England.  She  is  much  more  likely,  unfortunately,  to  go  to 
America.  I  should  be  very  glad  of  anything  that  would  keep  her 
at  home. 

The  malcontents  in  Ireland  are,  I  believe,  to  be  found  rather 
among  the  Anglo-Irish  than  the  Celtic-Irish.  These  are  the  ladies 
who  ask  why  the  Viceroy  should  not  be  content  to  do  as  his 
predecessors  did,  to  entertain,  and  show  himself  at  rare  intervals 
on  some  occasion  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  the  display. 
They  ask  the  question  still  more  concerning  Lady  Aberdeen. 

Well,  this  gracious  lady  is  one  of  those  whom  Ireland  has 


1913-]  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  191 

captured,  who  has  become  more  Irish  than  the  Irish.  Endowed 
with  the  love  of  her  kind,  with  enormous  energy,  great  administra- 
tive powers,  the  faculty  of  selecting  those  best  fitted  to  do  her 
work — the  qualities  of  generalship — with  a  spirit  incapable  of  being 
daunted,  Lady  Aberdeen  set  out  on  her  task  of  saving  Ireland,  so 
far  as  in  her  lay,  from  the  terrible  consumption;  incidentally  from 
many  ills  as  well.  Poor  Ireland,  bleeding  to  death  from  the  emigra- 
tion which  has  steadily  continued  since  the  famine  of  1846-47, 
needed  all  the  help  that  could  be  given  to  her,  else  the  Celt  would 
soon  be  "  gone  with  a  vengeance,"  as  the  Times  wrote,  gloating 
over  the  fleeing  multitudes  in  those  long-dead  days  of  the  Victorian 
forties. 

Lady  Aberdeen  has  a  very  charming  personality.  She  has 
dignity,  and  yet  she  is  very  warm  and  kind.  She  has  humor,  with- 
out which  the  gods  themselves  would  be  worsted  if  they  undertook 
reforms  in  Ireland.  She  can  make  herself  all  things  to  all  men. 
All  over  Ireland  she  has  gathered  into  the  Women's  National  Health 
Association,  and  into  various  subsidiary  committees,  a  great  num- 
ber of  women,  many  of  whom  would  otherwise  lead  very  stagnant 
lives. 

She  carries  out  her  work  with  a  great  spirit.  She  has  the 
invaluable  faculty  of  going  straight  to  her  object,  looking  neither 
to  right  nor  left.  When  she  meets  with  what  would  be  to  another 
person  a  check  or  a  disaster,  her  spirit  carries  her  triumphantly 
through  it.  It  takes  something  of  the  fanatic  to  make  a  reformer. 
Fanaticism  plus  humor — they  are  not  irreconcilable — go  to  make 
up  Lady  Aberdeen's  equipment  for  the  task  she  has  undertaken. 

Well,  having  heard  Lady  Aberdeen's  work  decried  by  those 
who  thought  the  function  of  viceroyalty  to  be  only  that  of  enter- 
taining the  elite — it  is  one  of  the  charges  against  the  most  amiable 
and  high-minded  of  Viceroys,  as  against  his  wife,  that  he  is  too 
accessible,  conies  too  close  to  the  common  people — I  thought  I 
would  look  into  Lady  Aberdeen's  work  for  myself.  Being  a  very 
busy  person,  I  have  had  to  do  my  learning  on  a  small  scale.  Lady 
Aberdeen  has  a  specially  tender  heart  for  children,  a  motherly 
heart  which  loves  to  make  them  happy :  therefore,  I  began  with  one 
of  the  Babies'  Clubs,  of  which  Her  Excellency  has  opened  and  is 
opening  so  many. 

There  was  nothing  cold  about  the  charity  of  this  Babies'  Club. 
It  was  run  by  a  most  efficient  and  sympathetic  trained  nurse.  It 
has  its  meetings  in  a  little  two-roomed  cottage  in  the  centre  of  a 
crowded  and  very  poor  district.  Usually  the  nurse  has  one  or 


192  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  [May, 

other  of  her  "  ladies  "  to  help  her  with  the  business  of  the  club, 
but  as  it  was  July,  and  a  good  many  of  the  ladies  were  scattered, 
I  volunteered  to  help  for  that  afternoon. 

The  club  feeds  and  clothes  the  babies.  It  provides  Pasteurized 
milk  for  the  babies  at  a  very  small  payment  per  week — there  is  no 
pauperizing — and  it  supplies  garments  made  by  the  ladies.  The 
mothers  come  in  with  the  babies  to  receive  their  milk  tickets  and  an 
article  of  clothing.  The  baby  is  weighed  perhaps.  A  few  quiet  words 
of  advice  are  given :  the  nurse  in  no  way  usurps  the  position  of  the 
doctors  who  are  always  ready  to  give  their  services  free  to  the 
Babies'  Club.  The  maternity  outfits  are  another  form  of  the  club's 
many  beneficences;  and  it  will  board  out  or  find  a  holiday  home 
for  delicate  children. 

Our  first  visit  that  day  was  to  the  Collier  Dispensary  for 
tuberculosis  in  Charles  Street,  a  slummy  street  running  down  from 
the  Quays  of  Dublin.  The  Collier  Dispensary  has  been  endowed 
and  equipped  by  the  son  of  the  late  Mr.  P.  F.  Collier  of  Collier's 
Weekly,  New  York,  as  a  memorial  of  his  father.  Lady  Aberdeen 
has  a  wonderful  way  of  ingratiating  herself  with  the  rich  for 
the  advantage  of  the  poor.  The  Collier  Dispensary  is  fitted  with 
all  the  latest  appliances.  Everything  is  washable;  and  the  white 
tiled  walls  are  rounded  at  the  floor,  so  that  there  may  be  no  dust 
lurking  in  corners  to  harbor  germs.  In  the  waiting-room  were 
many  patients.  Everything  was  sterilized  of  course,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  the  place  was  one  of  busy  usefulness.  There  was 
hope  there  for  those  gaunt-eyed  and  hollow-cheeked  men  and  women 
and  children  whose  cases  were  so  carefully  watched  and  treated, 
who,  if  the  case  was  too  advanced  for  home-treatment,  had  still 
the  chance  of  the  sanatorium.  While  the  poor  patients  wait  they 
are  given  hot  milk  and  Plasmon  biscuits,  and  in  fine  weather  they 
can  wait  their  turn  in  the  roof-garden  bordered  with  flowers  and 
plants,  with  comfortable  deck  chairs  and  awnings,  where  one  is 
high  above  the  squalor  and  ugliness  of  the  slum,  and  can  see  the 
beautiful  surrounding  hills  beyond  the  network  of  Dublin  streets. 
Doctors  and  nurses  visit,  when  necessary,  patients  in  their  own 
homes.  And,  oh  dear,  in  those  dreadfully  sad  slums  of  Dublin — 
which  have  only  this  to  be  said  for  them,  that  God  is  not  forgotten 
in  them:  they  are  innocent  slums  as  compared  with  the  slums 
of  other  cities — it  may  well  be  that  the  happiest  and  brightest 
spots  in  many  a  poor  life  may  be  the  visit  to  the  Collier  Dis- 
pensary, with  the  hot  milk  and  the  Plasmon  biscuits,  and  the  rest, 
if  the  weather  allows,  among  the  flowers  of  the  roof  garden. 


1913.]  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  193 

Another  American — Mr.  Strauss — has  equipped  the  Pasteur- 
ized Milk  Depot  with  the  most  up-to-date  sterilizing  arrangement. 
The  milk  for  a  baby  costs  one-and-sixpence  a  week :  and  with  the 
Pasteurized  milk  the  baby  is  safe. 

Having  explained  the  Pasteurizing  to  us,  and  given  us  a  taste 
of  the  milk — and  it  would  be  an  exacting  baby  who  would  ask 
for  better — the  bright  young  nurse  takes  us  up  to  see  another 
roof  garden,  in  this  case  for  the  use  of  the  nurses.  She  takes 
us  to  the  parapet  to  look  over.  All  around  are  crazy  and  miser- 
able dwellings,  right  in  the  midst  of  them  a  cow-shed,  with  a 
filthy  yard.  Close  by  the  nurse  indicates  a  wretched  dwelling. 
"  One  of  my  patients  is  there,"  she  says.  "  She  has  three  young 
children.  She  is  in  consumption,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  this  morning 
she  has  had  an  operation  for  cancer.  I  don't  suppose  she  will 
live  through  it." 

Cancer  and  consumption  in  one  body,  and  three  young 
children  born  of  that  body!  And  there  are  people  all  round 
about  sullenly  disapproving  of  anyone  trying  to  help,  because  for- 
sooth English  tourists  may  be  kept  out  and  the  English  market 
closed  to  Irish  domestic  servants,  who  are  a  thousand  times  better 
and  happier  at  home. 

I  have  said  that  Irish  poverty  shows  itself  more  than  any 
other  poverty.  Barefooted  children,  clad  in  a  few  flying  rags — 
when  there  is  frost  in  winter  you  will  see  the  poor  feet  tied  up  in 
filthy  rags  where  they  are  chapped  and  bleeding.  Many  of  these 
children  are  homeless,  and  sleep  in  open  halls  and  staircases 
at  night.  The  little  newsboys,  match-sellers,  etc.,  of  the  Dublin 
streets  become,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  gypsies.  The  restraints 
of  houses  are  not  for  them.  You  may  feed  and  clothe  and  shelter 
one  of  these  boys  for  a  certain  time :  then  he  will  go  out,  "  on  gur  " 
— that  is  their  own  phrase — that  is  to  say  he  will  run  wild  a  bit 
before  the  flesh-pots  of  civilization  have  any  call  for  him  again. 
The  towzle-headed,  shawled  woman  of  the  Dublin  streets  must  be 
an  amazement  to  the  visitor  from  a  better-clad  world.  The  Irish 
poor  have  an  incredibly  low  standard  of  comfort. 

The  woman  who  brings  you  vegetables  and  fruit  to  your  door, 
or  fresh  herrings,  or  some  such  thing,  in  enormous  baskets  which 
she  is  helped  to  carry  by  a  stunted  child,  will  shock  you  when 
she  comes  to  you  on  a  wet  and  cold  winter  day.  You  shall  hear 
the  water  squelching  in  her  broken  boots.  Her  petticoats  drip- 
drip  about  her  as  she  stands  on  your  doorstep.  The  child  is  in 

VOL.  xcvu. — 13. 


194  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  [May, 

like  evil  case.  Both  will  be  blue  with  cold,  their  teeth  chattering, 
so  that  they  can  scarcely  take  the  first  sip  of  the  hot  drink  which 
you  may  be  moved  to  give  them.  Yet  this  wretched  object  will  be 
a  good  and  respectable  woman. 

It  may  be  imagined  how  these  conditions  make  for  consump- 
tion. Well,  you  cannot  lift  a  whole  impoverished  city  and  country 
out  of  its  poverty:  but  you  can  meet  and  frustrate  the  effects 
of  these  wretched  conditions;  and  that  the  Women's  National 
Health  Association  of  Ireland  is  doing,  with  a  courage,  an  energy, 
a  whole-heartedness  which  shows  that  there  is  the  one  compelling 
mind  and  heart  behind  it. 

Another  American — Mr.  Allan  Ryan — has  equipped  a  Home 
for  Consumptives  at  the  North  Wall,  Dublin,  well  away  from  the 
city  at  the  edge  of  a  stony  spit  of  land  that  runs  out  into  the  sea  at 
the  river's  mouth.  There  is  a  Preventive  Holiday  Home  at  Sutton, 
also  by  the  sea,  to  which  patients  are  sent  who  seem  in  danger  of 
developing  tuberculosis. 

The  big  sanatorium  at  Peamount  I  have  not  yet  seen.  Already 
there  are  sixty-three  patients,  and  further  buildings  are  being 
erected  to  accommodate  those  for  whom  application  have  been  sent. 
At  Crooksling  on  the  side  of  the  mountains,  about  seventy  miles 
from  Dublin,  the  Corporation  of  Dublin  has  already  a  sanatorium 
for  consumptives.  I  saw  it  stated  at  a  meeting  of  some  adminis- 
trative board  the  other  day  that  there  were  three  thousand  cases 
of  consumption  in  the  County  of  Dublin;  and  that  Crooksling 
was  going  to  extend  its  accommodation. 

I  speak  only  of  what  I  have  seen  myself.  All  these  different 
manifestations  of  the  Women's  National  Health  Association  have 
each  their  off-shoots,  their  ramifications,  their  thousand  benevo- 
lences for  which  I  have  not  space.  But  I  must  touch  on  some  of  the 
open-air  institutions.  There  is  the  Ormond  Market  open-space. 
Ormond  Market  was  a  meat  market,  famous  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury for  the  prowess  of  its  butchers'  boys,  who  use  to  come 
out  and  fight  the  law  of  the  land  of  peaceable  citizens  on  any  or  no 
provocation — a  sort  of  Mohocks  in  low  life.  Some  time  ago, 
Ormond  Market  was  a  derelict  heap  of  ruins.  Lady  Aberdeen 
acquired  the  site  at  a  pepper-corn  rent  from  its  owner,  pending 
the  development  of  the  corporation  plans  of  re-building.  Part  of 
it  is  to  be  turned  into  a  garden  for  the  dwellers  in  the  dreadful 
slums  about  it.  The  remaining  portion  is  now  a  boys'  camp.  It 
was  being  prepared  for  its  purpose  when  I  was  there.  All  round 


I9I3-]  LADY  ABERDEEN'S  CRUSADE  195 

are  open-air  sleeping  sheds.  There  is  a  kitchen  to  provide  the 
boys  with  their  meals ;  bath  and  wash-houses,  and  a  good  open 
space  in  the  midst.  It  is  designed  primarily  for  boys  living  amid 
unhealthy  surroundings,  where  there  are  tuberculous  cases,  and 
so  on. 

Also  there  are  the  babies'  playgrounds.  Dublin  is  sadly  defi- 
cient in  open  spaces,  at  least  such  as  are  available  for  the  poor. 
That  the  Dublin  poor  may  be  trusted  is  abundantly  evident  in  St. 
Stephen's  Green,  which  the  munificence  of  Lord  Ardilaun  has  turned 
from  a  dusty  enclosed  space,  only  to  be  entered  by  the  holders  of 
a  private  key,  into  a  place  of  green  pastures  and  flowing  waters — 
a  real  paradise  for  the  Dublin  poor.  But  St.  Augustine  Street, 
for  example,  where  the  St.  Monica's  Babies'  Playground  has  been 
made,  is  a  world  away  from  St.  Stephen's  Green;  and  the  babies 
have  no  place  to  play  but  the  streets,  and  the  chance  of  being 
crushed  to  death  by  a  passing  vehicle  at  any  moment  of  their  play. 

Lady  Aberdeen  acquired  a  plot  of  land  where  some  more  totter- 
ing houses  had  been  demolished.  She  had  it  enclosed,  and  laid  out 
by  two  of  her  ladies  who  are  professional  gardeners.  She  put  up 
sheds  for  the  babies  to  sleep  in  their  prams.  A  sand  heap  was 
provided  for  the  children  to  dig  in.  Skipping-ropes,  balls,  all  sorts 
of  games  to  be  played  in  the  open  air,  were  provided.  A  superin- 
tendent was  chosen.  Then  the  children  came  in. 

I  am  bound  to  say  that  when  I  saw  the  garden  the  landscape 
gardening  was  a  little  gone  to  seed.  What  would  you  have  ?  The 
place  was  almost  densely  crowded  with  children.  One  thought  of 
Blake. 

Oh,  what  a  multitude  they  seem,  these  flowers  of  London  Town. 
Seated  in  companies  they  sit  with  radiance  all  their  own. 
The  hum  of  multitudes  was  there  but  multitudes  of  lambs, 
Thousands  of  little  boys  and  girls  raising  their  innocent  hands. 

The  sheds  were  full  of  babies  in  all  stages  of  sleeping  and 
waking,  some  rising  up  after  refreshing  sleep,  with  the  amazing 
independence  of  the  babies  of  the  poor,  and  stretching  out  their 
hands  for  their  discarded  toys  or  their  bottles.  Other  babies  were 
enjoying  the  ministrations  of  their  small  guardians,  dreadfully 
responsible  little  girls,  sometimes  not  so  big  as  their  better-fed 
charges.  All  sorts  of  games  were  in  progress  in  the  garden  out- 
side, and  there  were  plenty  of  seats  in  shade  and  out  of  it  for 
the  children  to  rest  if  they  will.  But  what  a  mercy,  what  a  charity, 


196  STARS  [May, 

to  keep  the  children  safe  from  the  streets  and  in  the  open  air, 
away  from  the  crowded,  unwholesome  dwellings. 

I  have  skimmed  only  very  lightly  over  some  of  the  activities 
of  Lady  Aberdeen  and  the  Women's  National  Health  Association  of 
Ireland.  Ireland  is  as  busy  as  a  hive  of  bees  with  those  new  activi- 
ties which  have  organized  and  directed  a  great  mass  of  feminine 
energy,  hitherto  unused,  scarcely  realized.  Ireland  is  very  con- 
servative, and  she  is  only  beginning  to  send  her  daughters,  of  the 
gentler  class,  out  into  the  world.  What  a  number  of  empty  hands 
such  work  as  this  must  have  filled  to  overflowing!  And  that  is 
not  the  least  of  its  beneficences. 


STARS. 

BY   JOYCE    KILMER. 

BRIGHT  stars,  yellow  stars,  flashing  through  the  air, 
Are  you  errant  strands  of  Lady  Mary's  hair? 
As  she  slits  the  cloudy  veil  and  bends  down  through, 
Do  you  fall  across  her  cheeks  and  over  heaven  too? 

Gay  stars,  little  stars,  you  are  little  eyes, 

Eyes  of  baby  angels  playing  in  the  skies. 

Now  and  then  a  winged  child  turns  his  merry  face 

Down  toward  the  spinning  world — what  a  funny  place! 

Jesus  Christ  came  from  the  Cross  (Christ  receive  my  soul!), 
In  each  perfect  hand  and  foot  there  was  a  bloody  hole, 
Four  great  iron  spikes  there  were,  red  and  never  dry, 
Michael  plucked  them  from  the  Cross  and  set  them  in  the  sky. 

Christ's  Troop,  Mary's  Guard,  God's  own  men, 
Draw  your  swords  and  strike  at  hell  and  strike  again. 
Every  steel-born  spark  that  flies  where  God's  battles  are, 
Flashes  past  the  face  of  God,  and  is  a  star. 


THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


BY    F.    DROUET,    C.M. 

HE  above  title  will,  no  doubt,  give  a  mild  shock  to 
many  a  timorous  soul,  and  I  feel  quite  sure  that 
if  my  dear  old  grandmother  had  ever  come  across 
it  in  the  pages  of  a  Catholic  magazine,  she  would 
have  rubbed  her  glasses  energetically,  to  make  sure 
that  she  was  not  the  victim  of  some  illusion.  This  simply  shows 
that  her  notion  of  sanctity  needed  revision.  If  she  could  have 
read  that  second  chapter  of  Joly's  volume,  The  Psychology  of  the 
Saints,  she  would  have  learned  a  few  things  that  would  have  made 
her  open  her  eyes  big  and  wide.  This  chapter,  entitled  "  Human 
Nature  in  the  Saints,"  is  a  most  enjoyable  bit  of  hagiography 
and,  withal,  of  psychology. 

For  too  long  a  time,  readers  of  Saints'  lives  (pusillus  grex, 
even  among  Catholics)  gained  the  impression  that  these  holy  per- 
sons were  as  stiff  as  their  cold  statues  standing  under  the  porches 
of  our  Gothic  cathedrals. 

And,  of  course,  this  is  why  that  immense  department  of  Catho- 
lic literature  was  so  carefully  shunned  by  ordinary  readers.  The 
famous  letter  of  Bishop  Dupanloup  on  The  Method  of  Writing 
Saints'  Lives  brought  about  a  great  change,  and  we  now  hear 
regularly  of  sacred  biographies  reaching  their  fifteenth  or  twentieth 
edition  within  a  year.  What  a  delightful  surprise  to  find  out  that 
those  holy  persons,  whom  many  of  us  had  pictured  living  on  a 
plane  altogether  apart,  almost  out  of  reach,  were  after  all  human 
beings  like  ourselves,  made  of  the  fragile  clay,  with  a  true  human 
heart  beating  in  a  true  human  breast;  to  discover  that  they  were 
capable  of  the  same  emotions,  passing  in  turn  from  sadness  to  joy, 
from  hope  to  fear,  from  enthusiasm  to  discouragement;  that  their 
soul  like  our  own  was  to-day  visited  by  sunshine  and  to-morrow 
by  darkness.  What  a  surprise  to  hear  of  a  Saint  Francis  of 
Assisi  pretending  to  play  the  violin  with  a  piece  of  wood  and  a 
ruler  to  amuse  his  brethren;  of  a  Saint  Teresa  playing  the  flute 
on  feast  days;  of  a  Saint  Philip  Neri,  whom  Professor  Joly  does 
not  hesitate  to  call  a  "  humoristic  Saint,"  two  words  forsooth 


198  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  [May, 

which  we  are  not  accustomed  to  find  so  close  together;  of  a  Saint 
Crispino  of  Viterbo,  a  most  worthy  son  of  the  poverello  of  Assisi, 
and  a  most  decided  enemy  of  sadness  in  any  shape,  so  much  so  that 
he  was  always  laughing  or  smiling;  of  a  Saint  — ,  but  I  am 
anticipating,  and  I  had  better,  perhaps,  in  order  to  make  my  readers 
agree  with  me,  tell  first  what  I  mean  by  laughter;  for,  just  as, 
according  to  the  French,  there  are  fagots  and  fagots,  so  also  un- 
doubtedly, there  is  laughter  and  laughter. 

Whole  treatises,  very  learned,  too,  have  been  written  on  the 
subject  by  specialists,  and  you  may,  some  fine  day,  stumble  upon  one 
of  these  alluring  titles,  such  as  "  On  the  Psychology  of  Laughter," 
or  "  On  the  Psychology  of  Smiles."  You  would  learn,  among  a 
thousand  equally  interesting  novelties,  that  "  Laughter  is  a  peculiar 
movement  of  the  muscles  of  the  face  and  eyes,  usually  accompanied 
by  the  emission  of  explosive  and  chuckling  sounds  from  the  chest 
and  throat."  Or  you  may,  perhaps,  prefer  this  definition: 
"  Laughter  is  the  reaction  of  our  aesthetic  faculty,  wounded 
by  the  spectacle  of  some  disorder  in  surrounding  objects." 
If  you  do  not  laugh  at  that,  you  must  have  lost  all 
sense  of  humor.  Perhaps  you  may,  with  the  gentle  skeptic, 
tell  me  that  you  do  not  care  to  fathom  the  psychological  or  physi- 
ological mysteries  of  human  laughter  as  long  as  you  have  a  chance, 
once  in  a  while,  to  enjoy  a  good  hearty  laugh.  And  perhaps  you  are 
right ;  so  without  more  ado  I  will,  with  a  Jesuit  Father,  the  lamented 
Father  Delaporte,  who  has  written  many  a  choice  bit  of  smiling 
literature,  make  a  distinction  between  physical  and  psychological 
laughter :  the  former  being  a  mere  nervous  phenomenon,  the  latter 
rather  an  emotion  of  the  soul.  They  may  resemble  each  other  in 
some  of  their  external  manifestations,  they  differ  certainly  as  to 
their  cause  and  meaning. 

It  would  be  false  to  maintain,  absolutely  at  least,  that  laughter 
is  necessarily  a  sign  of  human  intelligence.  For,  there  is  a  stupid 
laughter;  also  a  shrill  laughter  of  the  insane,  and  the  almost 
mechanical  laughter  of  the  little  child  who  is  tickled. 

The  list  of  intelligent,  therefore  truly  human,  laughters  would 
be  quite  long,  and,  sad  to  say,  reprehensible  laughter,  perhaps, 
would  be  found  to  be  most  common.  There  is  the  scornful, 
the  ironical,  sarcastic  laughter;  the  cruel  and  ferocious  laughter; 
the  sad  and  bitter  one ;  the  laughter  of  the  well-bred  and  of  the  ill- 
bred,  oi  the  witty  and  of  the  fool.  The  fool,  the  Scripture  re- 
marks, always  laughs  with  a  loud  noise,  and  in  another  passage 


1913.]  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  199 

of  holy  Writ  we  find  this  picturesque  description  of  the  same: 
"  As  the  crackling  of  thorns  burning  under  a  pot,  so  is  the  laughter 
of  the  fool."  Some  laugh  at  everything,  and  some  laugh  without 
apparent  cause.  There  is  an  artificial,  or,  as  the  term  goes,  a 
"  forced  "  laughter ;  such  was  the  laughter  of  Julian  the  Apostate, 
"that  vulgar  maker  of  puns,"  as  St.  Gregory  calls  him. 

The  laughter  of  the  Saints  is  healthy,  frank,  and  true;  it  rings 
like  honest  metal;  it  has  the  pure  sound  of  a  soul  at  peace  with 
God  and  man;  it  is  natural  and  spontaneous,  like  the  rustling 
of  the  golden  leaves  on  a  clear  autumn  day,  like  the  song  of  the 
brook  on  the  polished  pebbles,  or  like  the  musical  thrill  of  the 
lark  soaring  and  quivering  with  sheer  delight  in  the  glory  of  the 
rising  sun.  Their  laughter  is  a  manifestation  of  mental  health — 
sympathetic  and  contagious,  which  means  that  it  is  simply  and 
wholly  human. 

The  Saints  seldom,  if  ever,  indulged  in  that  loud  expression 
of  joy,  which  was  totally  unknown  to  the  Saint  of  Saints,  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Their  happiness  usually  found  its  expression 
in  that  most  human  of  human  attributes,  of  which  nobody  would 
ever  dream  of  depriving  Christ  Himself,  the  smile;  the  smile,  that 
is  to  say,  as  a  modern  writer  has  it,  "  The  light  of  the  soul  upon 
the  countenance;  the  outward  manifestation  of  the  highest  human 
feelings — tenderness,  love,  understanding  of  the  truth,  admiration 
for  the  beautiful.  It  is  something  more  than  a  variety  of  laughter, 
it  is  laughter  transformed,  spiritualized,  raised  above  itself." 

Nothing  could  be  more  worthy  of  man,  and  to  this  variety  of 
merriment — be  it  said  to  the  relief  of  those  timorous  souls  whom 
my  title  may  have  disturbed — belongs  for  the  most  part  the  laughter 
of  the  Saints. 

It  was  evidently  of  that  class  of  laughter  that  Emile  Faguet, 
the  French  academician,  was  thinking  when,  in  a  speech  he  was  to 
deliver  on  a  certain  Commencement  day,  he  said :  "  Laughter  is 
nature  taking  a  holiday;  that  sort  of  joy  is  an  act  of  gratitude  to- 
wards the  Creator,  and,  I  dare  say,  a  kind  of  prayer.  I  hope  you 
will  make  in  that  way  a  morning  and  evening  prayer,  and  say 
grace  around  twelve  o'clock.  Be  not  scandalized;  in  speaking  as 
I  do,  I  am  more  of  a  churchman  than  you  may  think  me.  Religious, 
men  and  women,  not  only  indulge  in  external  happiness,  but  go  so 
far  as  to  make  it  an  obligation;  it  is  a  part  of  their  rule." 

It  would  be  hard  for  M.  Faguet  to  produce  a  copy  of  any 
monastic  rule  in  which  laughter  is  expressly  commanded.  There  is 


200  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  [May, 

no  doubt,  however,  that  founders  of  Religious  Communities  have 
insisted  on  the  spiritual  value  of  joy.  St.  Ignatius  of  Loyola, 
meeting  one  day  one  of  his  novices  who  was  apparently  in  the 
darkest  of  moods,  said  to  him :  "  My  son,  I  want  you  to  laugh ; 
I  want  you  to  be  happy  in  the  Lord;  a  religious  has  no  reason  to 
be  sad,  and  he  has  many  reasons  to  be  cheerful."  That  most 
amiable  of  all  Saints,  Francis  de  Sales,  wrote :  "  A  sad  saint  who 
is  sad  is  a  very  poor  saint."  Visitors  to  monasteries  or  religious 
houses  at  recreation  time  have  been  able  to  catch  an  unmistakable 
echo  of  that  particular  kind  of  happiness,  which,  if  it  is  not 
imposed  by  the  rules,  is  none  the  less  a  fact,  a  carefully-preserved 
tradition. 

Spiritual  writers  tell  us,  not  that  all  virtue  consists  in  cheer- 
fulness, but  that  cheerfulness  is  a  powerful  help  to  the  practice 
of  all  virtues.  Does  not  the  word  "  happiness  "  occur  in  almost 
every  page  of  the  holy  Scriptures  ?  "  The  book  of  eternal  truths," 
says  Father  Delaporte,  "  is  an  almost  uninterrupted  series  of 
cheerful  hymns :  Gaude  et  Lcetare! "  The  Gospel  is  the  announce- 
ment of  the  most  happy  news :  "  I  bring  you  tidings  of  great 
joy,"  declares  the  messenger  of  God.  Our  Blessed  Lord,  after 
preaching  and  sanctifying  poverty,  sorrow,  tears,  and  persecutions, 
thus  sums  up  His  teaching,  "  Be  glad  and  rejoice !  "  A  short  time 
before  His  death,  He  told  His  disciples :  "  Your  sorrow  shall  be 
turned  into  joy,  and  your  joy  no  man  shall  take  from  you."  These 
divine  words  have  been  re-echoed  times  without  number  in  the 
lives  of  the  Saints.  That  consolation  has  been  the  secret  of  their 
happiness. 

St.  Peter  bids  the  Christians  rejoice  and  be  glad  with  exceed- 
ing joy.  St.  Paul  might  be  called  the  Doctor  of  Happiness,  as 
well  as  the  Doctor  of  Grace.  "  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always,  again 
I  say  rejoice !  "  "I  am  filled  with  comfort,  I  exceedingly  abound 
with  joy  in  all  our  tribulation." 

Joy!  Comfort!  Happiness!  This  is  the  authentic  teaching 
of  the  Saints,  and  this  is  the  constant  teaching  of  the  Church,  and 
the  burden  of  her  liturgy  in  which  the  "  alleluia  "  of  the  Resur- 
rection sounds  far  more  frequently  than  the  Dies  Ira  of  the  Last 
Judgment.  It  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by  the  lively 
tunes  of  some  of  the  hymns  of  the  Church,  like  the  Adeste 
Fideles,  or  0  Filii  et  Files.  Do  they  not  breathe  forth  a  childlike 
cheerfulness,  and  sound  like  popular  songs,  made  by  the  Mother 
Church  for  the  merry  hearts  and  merry  lips  of  her  children? 


1913.]  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  201 

The  most  genuine  and  most  complete  representatives  of  the 
Church's  spirit,  the  Saints,  could  not  fail  to  heed  such  an  invita- 
tion. Moreover,  were  not  the  Saints  themselves  responsible  for  the 
making  and  development  of  that  spirit  of  decided  optimism,  of 
that  buoyant  cheerfulness  so  noticeable  throughout  our  liturgical 
books,  bursting  forth  occasionally  into  the  merry,  catching  notes  of 
the  Iste  Confessor,  or  the  Exultet  jam  Angelica?  The  martyrs 
themselves  preserved  that  smiling  optimism,  that  peace  and  cheer- 
fulness in  the  midst  of  the  most  refined  tortures.  Whoever  reads 
for  the  first  time  the  passion  of  St.  Lawrence  must  experience 
a  strange  surprise  and  emotion  at  hearing  the  triumphant  pleasantry 
thrown  by  the  holy  martyr  into  his  tormentor's  face :  "  This  side  is 
now  well  done !  Turn  me  over,  and  eat." 

The  martyrs  were  not  saddened  by  the  overhanging  shadow 
of  death.  There  are  no  sad  Saints;  I  mean,  of  course,  habitually 
sad;  such  would  be  a  living  contradiction.  Even  that  most  tame 
and  timid  of  all  hagiographers,  the  honest  Godescard,  agrees  that 
a  Saint  may  show  occasionally  his  good  humor  or  display  his  wit. 
This  valuable  concession  he  makes  apropos  of  a  Saint  whose  name 
does  not  hold  out  any  promise  of  humor — Sulpitius  Severus,  whose 
character  and  temper,  however,  gave  happily  the  lie  to  his  family 
name.  "  His  piety,"  admits  Godescard,  "  was  in  no  way  austere 
or  repulsive."  He  sometimes  indulged  in  innocent  jokes.  Read, 
for  instance,  the  beginning  of  his  letter  to  Bassula,  his  mother-in- 
law;  or  the  one  he  wrote  to  St.  Paulinus  of  Nola,  in  sending  him 
a  new  cook,  Victor.  This  is  one  of  the  strangest  and  most  piquant 
letters  of  recommendation  ever  written  to  a  friend  already  disap- 
pointed by  half  a  dozen  chefs: 

I  am  told  that  all  your  cooks  leave  you.  The  reason  probably 
is  that  the  meagerness  of  your  menu  does  not  give  them  a 
chance  to  make  a  good  showing.  Now,  I  send  you  a  boy 
from  my  own  kitchen.  He  is  pretty  good  in  cooking  the 
white  beans,  in  making  the  insipid  beet  tasty  with  a  sharp 
vinegar  sauce,  or  at  concocting  a  bad  porridge  for  hungry 
monks;  as  to  the  use  of  pepper  and  other  spices  he  knows 
nothing  at  all,  but  he  has  no  equal  in  crushing  fragrant  herbs 
in  a  noisy  mortar.  He  has  only  one  defect.  He  is  an  un- 
scrupulous foe  of  all  gardens;  and  if  allowed  to  enter  one, 
will  cut  right  and  left,  and  play  terrible  havoc  with  all  flower- 
beds. But  you  do  not  need  to  worry  about  furnishing  him 
with  fuel:  he  burns  everything  and  anything  that  he  can  lay 


202  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  [May, 

his  hands  on,  including  the  beams  and  boards  of  the  roof. 
With  all  his  habits  and  propensities  I  beg  you  to  receive  him 
as  a  son. 

Victor,  as  history  shows,  proved  to  be  a  gem.  He  surpassed 
himself  in  making  broths  in  season  and  out  of  season,  to  the  intense 
delight  of  an  old  peasant  who  came  regularly  to  the  convent  kit- 
chen to  feast  on  the  remnants  of  the  meals.  As  this  faithful  guest 
had  not  a  single  tooth  left,  the  new  regime  suited  him  admirably, 
and  Victor  represented  in  his  eyes  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  culinary  art. 

St.  Paulinus  relaxed  more  than  once  his  episcopal  dignity. 
When  he  writes  the  praise  of  his  dear  St.  Felix  of  Nola,  he  laughs 
without  scruple  at  the  simplicity,  and  the  noisy  and  somewhat 
boisterous  devotion,  of  the  Campanian  peasants  who  came  every 
year  to  the  Saint's  tomb,  with  their  whole  families,  the  cattle  some- 
times included.  He  congratulates  one  of  his  parishioners  on  having 
escaped  the  need  of  a  physician,  "  more  cruel  than  illness  itself." 

One  of  Paulinus*  contemporaries,  the  pride  of  Christian  Latin 
literature,  St.  Jerome,  would,  if  time  and  space  permitted,  furnish 
us  with  most  abundant  and  unique  material.  We  must  confess, 
however,  that  his  laughter  is  not  always  of  the  same  innocent 
variety.  The  pen  of  the  solitary  of  Bethlehem  was  sometimes 
dipped  in  vinegar;  his  reputation  on  that  score  was  quite  well 
established,  for  good  Sulpitius  Severus  thinking  he  had,  one  day, 
overstepped  the  bounds  of  Christian  charity  in  his  description 
of  a  conceited  monk,  stops  abruptly  with  this  significant  remark: 
"  But  this  is  too  caustic ;  we  must  leave  that  sort  of  description 
to  the  Blessed  Jerome."  Caustic  he  surely  was,  and  sarcastic  in 
abundant  measure.  In  the  recesses  of  his  distant  solitude  he  is 
still  haunted  by  the  vivid  memories  of  the  wicked  Roman  society, 
by  the  pictures  of  the  worldly  clerics  at  whose  hands  he  had 
suffered  so  much.  He  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  poking  fun 
at  them  once  in  a  while.  His  terrible  laughter  wakes  up  the  echoes 
of  the  surrounding  hills,  travels  to  Rome  on  the  wings  of  the  Eurus, 
and  warns  those  unworthy  members  of  the  Church  that  the  old  lion 
is  still  alive  and  roaring  at  them.  "Anyone  who  sees  them," 
he  writes  to  Eustochium,  "  would  take  them  for  bridegrooms  rather 
than  for  clerics;  their  only  care  is  to  perfume  their  garments,  and 
their  hair  still  bears  the  marks  of  the  curling  iron;  lest  they  should 
wet  their  feet,  they  seem  afraid  of  walking,  even  on  tip-toe. 
He  continues  with  a  vivid,  although  not  altogether  edify- 
ing, description  of  one  whom  he  calls  a  princeps,  a  past 


1913-]  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  203 

master  in  the  art  of  obtaining  presents  from  the  rich :  "  He 
gets  up  with  the  sun,  and  carefully  maps  out  the  round  of  his  daily 
visits.  The  importunate  old  man  always  takes  a  short  cut,  and 
almost  routs  his  victims  out  of  bed.  Does  he  notice  a  nice  cushion, 
a  pretty  table-cloth,  some  elegant  piece  of  furniture?  He  admires 
and  praises  it  aloud ;  he  fingers  and  caresses  it ;  he  says  he  needs  it, 
of  course,  but  in  such  plaintive  and  querulous  tones  that  he  appears 
to  extort  it  rather  than  to  ask  for  it.  No  one  would  dare  to 
offend  the  gazetter  of  the  town;  and  he  seems  to  be  ubiquitous;  no 
matter  what  way  you  turn,  you  are  sure  he  is  the  first  you  will 
stumble  against !  " 

Be  it  said  in  justice  to  the  great  old  fighter,  that  his  wrinkled 
face  can  be  lit  up  once  in  a  while  with  a  really  tender  smile. 
Take,  for  instance,  that  choice  morsel  of  epistolary  literature,  the 
letter  to  Eustochium  entitled  De  munusculis,  in  which  he  thanks  her, 
among  other  things,  for  the  gift  of  a  basket  of  cherries,  "  and  such 
cherries,  too,  red  with  such  a  virginal  blush  that  I  think  they  have 
been  just  brought  over  by  Lucullus  himself." 

Who  would  have  thought  that  the  sweet  St.  Bernard,  Doctor 
Mellifluus,  could  have  indulged  in  the  same  satirical  vein,  and  re- 
echoed, after  many  centuries,  the  ironical  outbursts  of  Jerome? 
Yet  he  did;  and  some  of  his  letters  are  models  of  quiet,  but  none 
the  less  pungent  satire,  just  as  they  are  models  of  fluent,  harmo- 
nious, and  well-balanced  Latinity.  Read  in  the  ninth  chapter  of 
his  Apologia  ad  Guillielmiim,  the  long  and  amusing  description  of 
the  "  menu  "  of  a  single  meal  among  the  lax  monks  of  Cluny, 
and  you  will  see  how  the  holiest  of  abbots  can  laugh  heartily. 

"  What  about  the  drinking  of  pure  water  ?  "  asks  the  Saint. 
"  Why,  not  even  wine  mixed  with  water  is  admitted  on  the  table. 
All  of  us  since  we  became  monks  have  developed  weak  stomachs; 
we  do  not  forget  the  very  valuable  advice  of  the  Apostle  concerning 
the  use  of  wine,  but  we  fail  to  notice,  I  do  not  know  why,  the 

words,  a  little,  which  immediately  precede In  some  convents 

I  am  told  that  on  feast  days  the  wine  is  mixed  with  honey  and 
sweet  spices :  shall  we  maintain  that  this  is  also  propter  infirmitatem 
stomachi?  " 

In  the  next  chapter  he  draws  with  the  same  witty  pen  the 
portrait  of  the  monk  who  runs  from  town  to  town,  from  market  to 
market,  from  store  to  store,  to  buy  the  best  available  cloth  for  his 
brethren's  habits.  He  depicts  him  eagerly  searching  every  corner 
of  the  merchant's  house,  upsetting  every  piece  of  furniture,  unfold- 


204  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  [May, 

ing  immense  piles  of  stuffs,  fingering  them  with  a  connoisseur's 
hand,  examining  them  closely  in  the  sunlight  with  a  critical  eye, 
rejecting  contemptuously  any  piece  that  falls  short  of  the  standard 
of  perfection,  and  selecting  finally  the  very,  very  best,  regardless 
of  price. 

Among  the  modern  Saints,  the  great  Spanish  mystic,  St. 
Teresa,  and  the  dear  St.  Francis  de  Sales  would  easily  supply  us 
with  an  abundant  harvest  of  smiles.  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  of 
whom  his  latest  biographer  has  said :  "  His  style  was  truly  the 
style  of  Christian  France:  transparent  and  simple,  both  delicate 
and  resolute,  both  strong  and  tender,  with  a  little  point  of  amiable 
cheerfulness  that  never  goes  beyond  the  bounds  of  propriety,  and 
of  quiet  playfulness  which  never  inflicts  a  wound." 

The  pen  of  St.  Teresa  often  wrote  such  expressions  as,  "  I  had 
to  laugh;  "  "  I  laughed  heartily;"  "  you  make  me  laugh."  Of  St. 
Teresa  another  Saint  has  said :  "  God  be  blessed !  Here  is  a  Saint 
whom  we  can  all  imitate.  She  eats,  sleeps,  and  laughs  like  other 
people,  without  affectation,  without  ceremonies;  and  yet,  with  all 
that,  it  is  visible  that  she  is  filled  with  the  Spirit  of  God." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  great  Spanish  mystic  could  not  con- 
ceal her  dislike  of  those  religious  who  mistake  affected  gravity 
and  unbending  rigidity  for  spiritual  perfection,  and  walk  as  though 
they  were  clad  in  armor  plate.  "  What  would  become  of  our  little 
community,"  she  used  to  say,  "  if  everyone  of  us  endeavored  to 
bury  the  little  bit  of  humor  and  wit  that  she  has?  Nobody  can 
have  too  much  of  it.  Let  everyone  show,  in  all  simplicity,  what- 
ever amount  she  has  of  it,  for  the  common  joy  and  pleasure.  Do 
not  imitate  those  poor  unfortunate  people  who,  as  soon  as  they 
have  acquired  a  little  piety,  put  on  a  gloomy  and  peevish  air,  and 
seem  to  be  afraid  of  speaking  or  breathing,  lest  their  piety  should 
fly  away." 

During  her  somewhat  rough  career  as  a  reformer,  she  needed 
to  draw  freely  from  that  store  of  good  humor,  apparently  inexhaus- 
tible, with  which,  fortunately,  a  kind  Providence  had  provided  her. 
For,  besides  meeting  violent  opposition  and  abuse,  she  had  to  deal 
with  all  sorts  of  people,  to  endure  all  sorts  of  hardships,  and 
more  than  once  her  happy  faculty  of  seeing  the  bright,  and  we 
may  say  the  humorous,  side  of  things  helped  her  to  redeem  the 
situation. 

A1  good  brother,  who  thought  himself  a  painter,  and  who 
answered  to  the  attractive  name  of  John  Misery,  undertook  to 


1913-]  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  205 

draw  her  portrait.  Teresa  who,  in  her  youth  had  been  told  she 
was  pretty  and  (she  confessed  later  on)  had  believed  it,  was  not 
altogether  pleased  with  the  artistic  endeavors  of  the  self-appointed 
portrait-maker,  for  no  sooner  had  she  been  admitted  to  contemplate 
the  completed  masterpiece  than  she  exclaimed :  "  May  God  forgive 
you,  brother,  for  having  made  me  so  ugly ! " 

It  is  no  surprise  then  to  hear  her  latest  biographer  declare 
that  cheerfulness  was  in  her  eyes  one  of  the  surest  signs  of  a  relig- 
ious vocation.  She  never  missed  a  chance  to  give  good  example  in 
this,  and  to  show  her  Sisters  that  even  a  most  familiar  type  of 
joy  was  perfectly  compatible  with  the  perfection  of  their  state; 
for  many  a  Carmelite  house  in  Spain  has  preserved,  among  other 
treasured  relics,  little  drums  and  tambourines  that  were  used  in 
her  time.  She  used  to  sum  up  her  teachings  on  the  subject  in 
this  brief  but  significant  formula :  "  No  melancholy  sanctity." 
"  Please,"  she  said  in  a  letter,  "  please  narrate  to  others  all  the 

misfortunes  we  have  had  with  that  kind  of  saintly  people It 

would  be  better  to  abstain  from  opening  new  houses  than  to  put 
in  them  melancholy  subjects.  Religious  of  that  stamp  are  the  ruin 
of  monasteries." 

Who  is  the  modern  critic  who  has  said  that  "  Saints  are 
usually  ill-tempered  persons  ?  "  Evidently  he  was  little  acquainted 
with  St.  Teresa,  and  he  probably  had  never  heard  of  that  contem- 
porary Saint,  Mother  Barat,  of  whom  it  is  said  that  the  recreations 
over  which  she  presided  were  extremely  cheerful.  She  confessed 
frankly  she  had  little  use  for  those  religious  who,  probably  through 
fear  of  blundering,  keep  resolutely  silent.  "  The  first  rule  of  the 
house,"  she  used  to  say,  "  is  to  bore  nobody." 

St.  Francis  de  Sales  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  most  resolute 
enemy  of  sadness  in  every  form,  and  declared  that  it  was 
incompatible  with  devotion.  In  his  delightful  Spirit  of  St.  Francis 
de  Sales,  Monsignor  Camus  thus  characterizes  the  happy  disposi- 
tions of  the  Saint :  "  This  Samson  gathered  honey  out  of  the 
mouth  of  lions  and  found  peace  in  war.  Like  the  three  children, 
he  found  dew  in  the  midst  of  flames,  roses  amongst  thorns,  oil  in 
the  rocks,  and  sweetness  in  the  most  bitter  bitterness." 

No  one  ever  possessed  to  the  same  degree  the  invaluable  gift 
of  "  spreading  the  sweetness  of  Christ  over  the  sorrows  of  life." 
He  wrote  to  an  afflicted  person :  "  Live  happy  among  the  thorns 
of  the  Savior's  crown ;  like  a  nightingale  in  a  bush,  sing :  Long  live 
Jesus!" 


206  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  [May, 

In  this  gallery  of  cheerful  Saints,  a  particularly  honorable 
mention  is  due  to  St.  Philip  Neri,  whom  Goethe  justly  calls  the 
"  humoristic  Saint."  He  was  fond  of  playing  some  rather  mean 
tricks  on  his  novices,  and  if  he  saw  one  of  them  a  bit  proud  of 
his  new  habit,  he  would  send  him  out  on  some  errand,  with  a 
ridiculous  appendage,  like,  for  instance,  a  fox  tail,  hanging  over 
his  back.  The  following  anecdote,  the  authenticity  of  which  is 
guaranteed  by  the  best  authorities,  will  suffice  to  illustrate  this 
amusing  feature  of  his  character.  One  day  he  was  sent  by  the 
Pope  himself  to  some  neighboring  convent  to  inquire  into  the 
life  of  a  nun  who  had  the  reputation  of  a  Saint.  The  weather 
was  horrible,  and  when  Philip  dismounted  he  was  bespattered  with 
mud  from  head  to  foot.  The  good  Sister  was  brought  before 
him,  and  judging  at  a  glance  that  her  air  of  compunction  was  rather 
overdone,  Philip  said  abruptly  while  stretching  out  his  leg :  "  Pull 
off  my  boots,  won't  you  ?  "  The  would-be  Saint  assumed  at  once 
an  air  of  offended  dignity,  and  without  any  further  inquiry  the 
Pope's  envoy  put  on  his  hat,  went  straight  to  his  master,  and 
told  him  that  a  religious  so  devoid  of  humility  had  no  claim  what- 
ever to  the  saints'  aureole. 

Many  of  the  readers  of  this  magazine  have  heard,  no  doubt, 
of  Sister  Teresa  of  the  Infant  Jesus,  the  little  Carmelite  nun  who 
died  some  years  ago  in  the  odor  of  sanctity  at  Lisieux  in  France, 
and  whose  biography  attracted,  at  least  in  her  native  country,  such 
sympathetic  attention.  Frail  and  delicate,  as  she  always  was, 
she  knew  she  was  destined  for  an  early  death.  Yet,  how  she  could 
smile!  There  was  in  the  convent  an  old  infirm  sister  who  had 
become  very  childish.  Every  evening,  at  ten  minutes  of  six,  some- 
body had  to  leave  the  chapel  in  order  to  take  the  dear  old  soul 
to  the  refectory.  Knowing  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  please 
the  sick  lady,  Sister  Teresa  hesitated  a  long  time  before  she  dared 
to  propose  her  good  services.  They  were  accepted,  with  some  mis- 
givings, however;  and  every  day  at  the  appointed  time,  the  com- 
munity could  witness  this  delightful  little  comedy : 

The  old  Sister  shook  her  apron  [writes  Sister  Teresa  herself], 
and  I  knew  it  meant :  "  time  to  go !  let  us  start !  "  Summoning 
all  my  courage,  I  would  arise ;  and  then  a  very  peculiar  ceremony 
began.  I  had  to  move  and  carry  the  bench  in  a  certain  way, 
and  in  no  other.  It  was  most  important  that  I  should  be 
extremely  slow  in  starting.  My  role  consisted  in  following  the 


1913-]  THE  LAUGHTER  OF  THE  SAINTS  207 

good  Sister  while  holding  her  by  her  cincture.  This  I  did 
with  all  the  care  and  kindness  of  which  I  was  capable;  but  if, 
by  chance,  my  charge  made  a  single  false  step,  she  immediately 
thought  that  she  was  going  to  collapse,  and  cried  out:  "Mon 
Dieu!  You  walk  too  fast!  I'll  be  broken  to  pieces!"  If  I 
tried  to  walk  more  slowly  she  would  ask :  "  Why,  you  don't 
follow  me.  I  don't  feel  your  hand  at  all;  I  am  going  to  fall! 
Ah!  I  was  right  in  saying  that  you  were  much  too  young  for 
this  office ! "  Finally  we  would  reach  the  refectory  without 
any  serious  mishap.  Then  new  difficulties  arose.  In  order 
not  to  hurt  my  patient's  old  suffering  frame,  I  had  to  install  her 
in  her  place  with  all  the  skill  I  could  master.  Then,  I  must  roll 
up  her  sleeves,  always  in  a  certain  definite  manner;  and  then — 

at  last — I  was  free  to  go In  a  short  while,  however,  I 

discovered  that  she  was  cutting  her  bread  with  extreme  difficulty, 
and  henceforth  I  never  left  her  without  rendering  her  this 
last  service ;  and  before  parting  I  never  failed  to  look  at 
her  with  my  best  smile. 

It  would  seem  that  the  smile  was  the  most  appreciated  part 
of  the  performance,  for  if  anyone  else  was  designated  to  help 
her,  the  old  Sister  invariably  protested  and  said :  "  No,  send  me 
the  little  one  who  has  such  a  beautiful  smile." 


THE   POETRY   OF   KATHARINE   TYNAN   HINKSON. 

BY    KATHERINE   BREGY. 

HERE  is  something  of  the  sweet  prodigality  of 
Nature  in  all  that  Mrs.  Hinkson  gives  us:  in  her 
prose,  alike  critical  and  romantic,  and  not  less  in 
that  poetic  utterance  which  would  seem  to  have 
gathered  up  and  concentrated  the  beauty  of  her 
message.  She  differs  as  radically  as  may  be  from  the  abstinent, 
definitive  speech  of  her  long-time  friend,  Mrs.  Meynell;  there  is 
nothing  in  her  song  of  the  silver  remoteness,  the  classicism,  the 
restraint  of  her  well-loved  Lionel  Johnson.  Like  a  torrent  of 
sunshine  falls  her  lyric  speech,  large  and  sweet  and  spontaneous; 
lighting  up  things  great  and  humble  with  equal  diligence.  About 
her  pages  there  is  the  lush  and  innocent  luxuriance  of  summer 
fields  and  blowing  wild  flowers. 

If  it  be  not  "  to  consider  too  curiously,"  the  simile  may  be 
carried  a  step  farther.  In  the  garden  of  Mrs.  Hinkson's  poetry 
it  is  quite  possible  to  sort  and  sift  the  flowers — even  to  trace  by 
their  sequence  the  progress  of  her  own  seasons.  First  of  all, 
back  in  1885,  came  Louise  de  la  Valliere,  a  first  volume  as  like 
as  possible  to  the  pale  sweet  crocus  of  earliest  springtime.  Every- 
one was  writing  narrative  verse  just  then — Tennyson,  Swinburne, 
Aubrey  de  Vere,  William  Morris — so,  of  course,  it  contained  nar- 
ratives. It  was  colorful,  too,  with  something  of  the  irised  imagery 
of  the  Brotherhood;  for  was  not  the  flame  of  Rossetti's  genius  but 
a  few  years  extinguished,  and  still  a  vital  thing  to  all  the  younger 
poets?  The  great  day  of  Victorian  poetry  was  just  wearing  to 
its  sunset  when  this  little  Irish  maiden  stepped  across  the  horizon 
of  London  town,  her  heart  full  of  dreams,  her  lips  of  songs. 
Like  most  youthful  songs  they  were  shy,  romantic,  idealistic;  ten- 
derly but  not  fastidiously  wrought,  and  preoccupied  with  the  minor 
music  of  life.  The  title  poem  was  a  monologue  of  much  grace 
and  pathos — a  midnight  episode  in  the  Carmelite  convent  where 
Louise, 

( — a  broken  reed  that  He 
Hath  bound  with  His  strong  fingers  tenderly), 


1913.]     POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON    209 

has  sought  her  penitential  peace.  Joan  of  Arc  again  takes  the 
monologue  form,  and  the  book  holds  a  charming  tale  of  King 
Cophetua's  Beggar-Queen.  A  poem  upon  Thoreau  gave  prophecy 
of  the  Franciscan  sympathies  which  have  dominated  so  much  of 
Katharine  Tynan's  later  work:  and  there  was  already,  in  more 
than  one  poem,  touches  of  that  sweet  and  altogether  reconciling 
comprehension  of  death  which  has  given  largeness  and  serenity 
to  her  pages. 

Two  years  after  Louise  came  Shamrocks,  a  sister  volume  very 
like  its  predecessor,  but  greener  and  gladder;  in  a  word,  more 
Celtic.  There  was  a  charming  legend  of  The  Sick  Princess 
with  ardent  pre-Raphaelite  coloring:  there  were  Irish  narra- 
tives, somewhat  in  de  Vere's  manner,  of  Aibhric  and  the  Swans, 
Diarmind  and  Grainne,  et  cetera.  But  along  with  reminiscence 
there  was  the  forward  leap.  In  its  Angel  of  the  Annunciation 
one  discerns  the  golden  germ  later  to  develop  into  the  First  Book 
of  Miracle  Plays;  just  as  The  Heart  of  a  Mother  anticipates 
that  whole  group  of  poems  which  one  shall  find  clustering  about 
the  thought  of  the  little  dead  child.  And  it  is  much  to  be  doubted 
if  any  other  than  Katharine  Tynan  could  have  put  into  the  gentle 
Franciscan  sermon  these  characteristic  bird  stanzas: 

Little  flowers  of  air, 

With  your  feathers  soft  and  sleek, 
And  your  bright  brown  eyes  and  meek, 

He  hath  made  you  fair ! 

He  hath  taught  to  you 

Skill  to  weave  in  tree  and  thatch 

Nests  where  happy  mothers  hatch 
Speckled  eggs  of  blue. 

The  garden  had  even  more  emphatically  found  itself  when 
Ballads  and  Lyrics  blossomed  three  years  later,  and  to  the  early 
crocus  and  shamrock  there  was  added  a  hedge  of  hawthorne, 
blithe  and  sweet.  It  gave  us  the  last  of  the  long  Irish  narra- 
tives in  the  stirring  tales  of  the  Children  of  Lir  and  Connla 
of  the  Golden  Hair.  And  it  gave  us  the  first  of  those  delicious 
verse  apologias  which  Mrs.  Hinkson's  readers  have  learned,  to 
expect  by  way  of  introduction — as  also  that  little  trick  of  the 
refrain  which  she  has  used  so  repeatedly  and  so  refreshingly. 
Nowhere  is  it  more  refreshing  nor  more  persistent  than  in  the 
now  familiar  'April  lyric: 

VOL.  XCVIT. — 14. 


210    POETRY  OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON     [May, 

All  in  the  April  evening, 

April  airs  were  abroad: 
The  sheep  with  their  little  lambs 

Passed  by  me  on  the  road. 

The   sheep   with   their   little   lambs 

Passed  by  me  on  the  road: 
All  in  an  April  evening, 

I  thought  on  the  Lamb  of   God. 

The  lambs  were  weary,  and  crying 

With  a  weak  human  cry; 
I  thought  on  the  Lamb  of  God, 

Going  meekly  to  die. 

Up  in  the  blue,  blue  mountains, 

Dewy  pastures  are  sweet; 
Rest  for  the  little  bodies, 

Rest   for  the  little   feet. 

But  for  the  Lamb  of  God, 

Up  on  the  hill  top  green, 
Only  a  cross  of  shame, 

Two  stark  crosses  between. 

All  in  the  April  evening, 

April  airs  were  abroad, 
I  saw  the  sheep  with  their  lambs, 

And  thought  on  the  Lamb  of  God. 

In  that  we  come  upon  the  strain  which  Mrs.  Hinkson's  friends 
will  like  to  label  the  essential  Katharinian! 

So  much  for  the  lyrics,  which  indeed  were  beginning  to  take 
major  hold  upon  this  garden  of  verse.  Of  very  different  tenor  was 
the  Countess  Cathleen,  a  ballad  upon  that  curious  and  poignant 
legend  which  William  Butler  Yeats  has  since  put  into  dramatic 
form.  To  handle  with  any  sort  of  vraisemblance  this  tale  of 
the  woman  who  sells  her  own  soul  to  the  demon  merchants,  that 
her  people  may  be  saved  from  famine,  would  seem  a  work  of 
peculiar  difficulty.  It  is  a  far  more  mystical  version  of  the  Monna 
Vanna  problem — with  something  of  Faust  to  boot.  But  there  is 
no  doubt  that  it  has  proved  immensely  stimulating  to  the  poets. 
When  Katharine  Tynan  pictured  her  Cathleen  going  forth  from 
the  palace, 

With  her  white  soul  in  her  hand, 

Fair  beyond  desires, 
And  her  eyes  like  those  who  stand 

In  eternal  fires, 


1913-]     POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON    211 

she  achieved  one  of  her  most  beautiful  passages.  And  it  is  inter- 
esting to  note  how  many  of  Mr.  Yeats'  really  great  lines  have 
been  called  into  being  by  the  same  theme. 

The  first  age  of  the  garden  was  done  when  the  hawthorne  of 
Ballads  and  Lyrics  had  blossomed  white  and  pink.  For  with 
Cuckoo  Songs  (1894)  the  warm  sweetness  of  the  lilac  is  felt — 
the  lilac  flowers  which  link  together  the  late  virginity  of  spring 
and  the  fresh  motherhood  of  early  summer.  There  were  lovely 
bird  notes  here  also:  one  cuckoo  song  so  piercingly  sweet  that 
Katharine  Tynan  ought  never  to  have  written  of  the  cuckoo  again. 
There  were  charming  renderings  of  the  legends  of  Brother  Ronan 
and  his  Birds,  of  Blessed  Columba  and  his  Horse;  there  was  a 
brave  ballad  of  Geoffrey  Barron,  and  a  tragically  beautiful  legend 
of  Our  Lady  of  Pity;  really  at  root  the  same  legend  which  Heine 
has  used  so  arrestingly  in  his  Pilgrimage  of  Kevlaar.  A  lovely 
little  miracle  play  of  the  Resurrection  proved  exceedingly  pro- 
phetic in  matter  and  metre  of  the  volume  next  to  come.  And  with 
all  this,  there  was  a  noticeable  deepening  of  the  personal  note. 
To  Katharine  Tynan  (or  as  she  had  now  become,  Mrs.  Henry 
Albert  Hinkson)  there  had  come  a  new  power  of  self-expression 
and  of  soul-expression. 

In  the  main,  and  all  along,  this  has  been  most  successful  in 
concrete  forms.  God's  Bird  is  both  noble  and  tender;  but  most 
readers  will  recognize  in  House  and  Home  a  rather  unique  com- 
bination of  "  the  dream  and  the  business,"  and  withal  a  very  con- 
vincing piece  of  feminine  (if  not  "feminist")  psychology: 

Where  is  the  house,  the  house  we  love? 

By  field  or  river,  square  or  street, 
The  house  our  hearts  go  dreaming  of, 

That  lonely  waits  our  hurrying  feet; 
The  house  to  which  we  come,  we  come, 
To  make  that  happy  house  our  home. 
Is  it  under  grey  London  skies? 

Or  somewhere  hid,  in  fields  and  trees, 
With  gardens  where  a  musk  wind  sighs, 

Or  one  brown  plot  to  grow  heartsease  ? 
***** 

O   dear   dream-house,   for   you   I   store 

A  medley  of  such  curious  things 
As  a  wise  thrush  goes  counting  o'er, 

Ere  the  glad  moon  of  songs  and  wings, 


212    POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON     [May, 

When  a  small  nest  makes  all  her  heaven, 
And  a  true  mate  that  sings  at  even. 
Up  those  dim  stairs  my  heart  will  steal, 

And  quietly  through  the  listening  rooms, 
And  long  in  prayerful  love  will  kneel, 

And  in  the  sweet-aired  twilight  glooms 
Will  set  a  curtain  straight,  or  chair, 
And  dust  and  order  and  make  fair. 
***** 

O  dear  dream-house,  for  which  we  pray, 
Our  feet  come  slowly  up  your  way ! 

Close  upon  the  echo  of  Cuckoo  Songs  came  the  Miracle  Plays 
of  1895 — Mary  lilies  for  the  garden  first,  and  then  for  Mary's 
own  altar.  Here  was  a  most  lovesome  recasting  of  the  mediaeval 
strain,  a  series  of  little  poetic  plays  upon  our  Lord's  Birth  and 
Childhood,  very  devout,  very  naive,  very  artistic;  and  full  (as 
the  best  mediaeval  ones  were  also  full)  of  a  vital  and  simple 
humanism.  Although  cast  in  dialogue  form,  their  strength 
is  mainly  lyrical;  and  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  all  six  parts 
there  are  lyrics  of  extremely  quotable  beauty.  Here  is  a  fragment 
of  one  upon  the  Annunciation : 

Lilies  in  our  garden 

Take  the  light,  pure  and  white ; 
Lilies  in  the  moonlight 

Like  a  silver  flame. 

Lilies  in  our  garden 

Shed  perfume,  all  a  bloom. 
Bearing  then  a  white  lily 

Blessed  Gabriel  came. 

Silver  pale  his  lily 

Like  a  sword  flashed  and  stirred; 
Scimitar  of  Heaven 

To  lay  Satan  low. 

Shining  like  his  lily 

Mary  went,  sweet,  content, 
Walking  in  her  garden 

Flower  of  gold  and  snow. 

THe  dramatic  sense  is  nowise  deficient,  for  all  this  lyricism: 
one  meets  it  in  the  characterization  of  the  three  kings,  in  the 


1913-]     POETRY  OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON    213 

exquisite  little  scene  with  Simeon  at  the  Presentation,  in  the  song 
of  Dimas'  Mother.  St.  Joseph  was  to  take  on  personality  later, 
in  that  poem  of  glorified  domesticity,  The  Man  of  the  House,  and 
was  but  slightly  defined  in  the  Miracle  Plays.  But  the  Virgin 
moves  like  a  pearl  across  the  pages — 

Hidden  and  draped  from  head  to  feet 
In  veils  of  holiness,  yet  meet 
For  human  joy  and  pain. 

It  is  a  mystical,  childlike  Mary  in  the  early  scenes,  bowered  among 
her  blossoms  and  her  birds;  a  very  woman  in  the  hours  of  stress; 
a  very  mother  in  her  sweetly  fearful  dominance  of  the  final  epi- 
sodes. 

Love  and  motherhood  and  then  death  had  laid  their  seal 
upon  Katharine  Tynan's  life — perhaps,  indeed,  they  must  needs 
have  laid  their  seal,  every  one  of  them — before  she  could  conceiv- 
ably have  given  us  her  Lover's  Breast  Knot.  She  herself  has 
named  the  flowers  it  brought  into  the  garden — heartsease  and  love- 
lies-bleeding:  heartsease  for  the  "marriage  of  true  minds,"  a 
woman's  love  songs,  infinitely  tender,  scarcely  passionate;  and 
love-lies-bleeding  to  rest,  like  a  sprig  of  rosemary,  on  the  grave 
of  the  little  lost  son,  Godfrey.  Here,  in  truth,  was  passion  enough; 
no  passion  of  ineffectual  tears,  but  the  agony  of  motherhood  made 
barren,  the  surpassing  wistfulness  of  eyes  which  must  look  all 
the  way  into  eternity  before  the  heart's  delight  be  found. 

His  face  was  sweeter  than  a  rose — 

But  O  Love's  rose  is  thorny! 
He  nestled  in  my  breast  so  close 

Before  he  went  his  journey. 

It  is  a  note  less  of  tragedy  than  of  consummate,  quintessential 
pathos,  and  without  it  Mrs.  Hinkson's  poetry  could  never  have  at- 
tained its  most  piercing  loveliness.  For  are  not  the  poet's  lips 
made  sweet  by  sorrow,  even  as  the  prophet's  by  a  burning  coal? 
Two  years  later,  in  1898,  The  Wind  in  the  Trees,  a  new  volume 
of  Nature  pieces,  came  from  the  poet's  hand.  It  had  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  an  exhibition  without  one  single  "  interior."  Songs 
of  the  regal  chestnut  were  here;  of  the  ever- favorite  lamb  and 
cuckoo ;  of  young  trees  shooting  upright  like  "  soft  flames  of 
green;"  of  brisk  chanticleer  who  "whistles  back  the  day."  There 


214    POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON     [May, 

were  a  thousand  felicities,  many  of  them  to  be  returned  to  and 
developed  even  more  felicitously  later  on;  meanwhile  they  brought 
into  the  garden  a  wealth  of  green  and  glossy  grasses,  tall,  shadowy, 
woodsy  things — con jur ings  of  bird  and  red  deer,  of  orchards  and 
meadows,  of  the  colleen  milking  her  cow  at  dawn. 

For  three  years  then  the  Muse  spoke  but  rarely;  and  the 
garden  waited,  after  the  wise,  brooding  way  of  gardens,  until 
sun  and  rain  should  bring  their  riot  of  roses.  In  1901  they  came — 
red  roses  and  white,  pink  and  golden — the  Collected  Poems,  with 
a  whole  sheaf  of  pages  never  seen  before.  The  promise  of  spring 
had  been  fulfilled :  the  flag  of  midsummer  was  floating  over  Kath- 
arine Tynan's  garden  of  verse.  Her  second  poetic  period  had 
reached  its  culmination. 

This  is  not  to  imply,  in  all  later  work,  decadence.  In  July 
there  is  not  decadence;  but  there  is,  every  gardener  knows,  a  vast 
difference  from  June.  There  is  maturity.  The  aggressive  eager- 
ness and  radiance  of  early  creation  has  merged  into  a  something 
warm,  serene,  enveloping — a  something  sweetly  humble,  which 
has  laid  aside  the  novelty,  the  exoticism  of  youth. 

I  sing  of  children  and  of  folk  on  wings, 
Of  faith,  of  love,  of  quiet  country  things ; 
Of  death  that  is  but  lying  down  at  night, 
And  waking  with  the  birds  at  morning  light; 
And  of  the  Love  of  God  encompassing; 
And  of  the  seasons  round  from  spring  to  spring ; 
I  sing  of  gardens,  fields,  and  flowers  and  trees: 
Therefore  I  call  my  love-songs  Innocencies. 

So  sang  Mrs.  Hinkson  in  the  very  opening  stanza  of  her 
Innocencies  (1905).  Looking  through  the  slim  volume,  one  gets 
the  impression  of  a  white  field  of  daisies;  white  and  sunny  and 
gentle,  with  here  and  there  a  blue  gentian  for  the  laughter  of  child 
eyes.  Very  similar  were  the  Experiences  of  1908.  For,  in  truth, 
Katharine  Tynan's  experiences  are  all  innocencies :  praises  to  God 
for  the  beauty  of  earth,  for  the  serviceable  senses,  for  sweet  memor- 
ies and  sad,  for  friends  and  gardens  and  the  quiet  of  meadow- 
paths,  for  sunlight  and  shadow,  and  all  the  comfortable  and  com- 
mon things  of  life. 

There  has  been  but  one  subsequent  volume,  the  New  Poems 
of  1911*;  lavender  flowers,  pungent  yet  strangely  placid,  with  the 
one  flaming  poppy  of  that  much  discussed  lyric,  Maternity.  The 


1913.]     POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON    215 

sun  was  nearing  midheaven;  more  and  more  was  stillness  resting 
like  a  veil  of  August  haze  upon  the  garden.  The  glad  birds,  made 
by  the  good  God  "  in  a  moment  merry,"  and  loved  by  our  poet 
with  a  particular  and  symbolic  tenderness,  chirp  triumphantly; 
the  golden  bee  whispers  his  amorous  secrets;  the  little  lambs  lie 
quiet  beside  contented  ewes;  men  come  and  go  and  love  and  build 
and  sleep  at  last — in  peace.  And  over  the  "  flying  wheel  of  time  " 
rests  the  Thought  of  God,  immanent,  unchangeable, 

O'er  whom  Eternity  will  pass 
But  as  an  image  in  a  glass. 

Has  the  poet's  heart  grown  a  little  weary  of  the  conflict,  the 
drama  of  life,  when  it  creeps  into  an  ideal  refuge  such  as  this? 
Or  has  the  poet's  heart  risen  above  the  dualism  of  the  body  into 
a  trance  of  bright  and  true  contemplation?  Or — both?  The 
reader  must  decide:  and  his  judgment  pro  or  con  will  be  largely 
colored  by  the  way  he  is  able  to  accept  such  a  simple  yet  amazing 
poem  as  Good  Friday: 

Good  Friday  is  a  heavenly  day, 

So  bright,  so  fair,  so  still, 
They  slay  the  King  of  all  the  world 

On  a  high  hill. 

*  *  *  * 

Sweetly  it  rose  and  fell, 

So  calm,  so  light,  so  grave. 
Christ  Jesus,   sacrificed   for  men, 

Died — and  forgave. 

Meanwhile  the  gold  and  purple  of  seedtime  comes  on  apace.  The 
garden  waits  once  more — and  its  autumn  song  shall  not  be  wanting. 
Already  it  is  promised;  nay,  we  know  it  in  fragments.  And  we 
shall  know  it  soon  in  the  fulfillment  of  Irish  Poems. 

It  would  be  very  easy  to  over-accentuate  this  note  of  serenity 
in  Mrs.  Hinkson's  work.  It  is  always  easy  to  overstress  the  ob- 
vious, and  to  hear  only  the  loudest  music.  But  there  are  many 
distinct  "motives"  in  these  songs  of  the  seasons,  and  it  is  not 
alone  in  the  most  joyous  that  she  has  proved  a  true  poet.  Her 
love  of  Nature  has  indeed  been  rapturously  felt  and  sung.  She 
has  been,  as  it  were,  inebriated  by  the  beauty  and  peace  of  the 
sunlit  earth;  over  and  over  again  has  she  praised  the  golden  coun- 


216    POETRY   OF   KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON     [May, 

try  and  lamented  the  grey  ness,  the  conflict,  the  heartache  of  the 
town.  No  one  has  sung  more  enchantingly  of  the  birds :  very  few 
more  sympathetically  of  the  beasts.  But  Francis  himself  was 
scarcely  joyous  when  he  looked  upon  the  burdens  of  Brother  Ox 
or  Brother  Ass.  In  Katharine  Tynan's  Shamrocks  there  was  a 
version  of  that  old,  sweet  legend  of  Christ  and  the  "  pitiful  dead 
dog  "  lying  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem :  and  soon,  in  the  volume 
not  yet  published,  her  readers  will  come  upon  a  lyric,  The  Ass 
Speaks,  in  her  best  manner  and  of  tear-compelling  potency.  We 
quote  but  a  few  stanzas : 

I  am  the  little  Ass  of  Christ — 

I  carried  Him  ere  He  was  born, 
And  bore  Him  to  His  bitter  tryst 

Unwilling,  that  Palm  Sunday  morn. 

I  was  His  Mother's  servant,  I, 

I  carried  her  from  Nazareth, 
Up  to  the  shining  hill-country, 

To  see  the  Lady  Elizabeth. 

The  stones  were  many  in  my  road. 

By  valleys  steeper  than  a  cup, 
I,  trembling  for  my  heavenly  load, 

Went  cat-foot  since  I  held  It  up. 
*  #  #  # 

I  knelt  beside  my  brother  Ox, 

And  saw  the  very  Birth!     O  Love, 
And  awe  and  wonder!  little  folks 

May  see  such  sights  nor  die  thereof. 

The  chilly  Babe  we  breathed  upon, 
Warmed  with  our  breath  the  frozen  air, 

Kneeling  beside  Our  Lady's  gown, 
His  only  comfort  saving  Her. 

I  am  beaten,  weary  foot,  ill-fed; 

Men  curse  me:    yet  I  bear  withal 
Christ's  Cross  betwixt  my  shoulders  laid, 

So  I  am  honored  though  I'm  small. 

I  bore  Christ  Jesus,  and  I  bear 

His  Cross  upon  my  rough,  grey  back. 
»        Dear  Christian  people,  pray  you,  spare 
The  whip,  for  Jesus'  Christ,  His  sake. 


1913.]     POETRY  OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON    217 

Something  of  this  tender,  colloquial  note  goes  into  all  of 
Katharine  Tynan's  devotional  poetry.  It  was  the  charm  of  the 
Miracle  Plays  and  the  Man  of  the  House,  and  it  gave  sincerity 
to  the  more  ornate  pre-Raphaelite  pieces.  By  temperament,  Mrs. 
Hinkson  would  seem  less  mystical  than  Crashaw  or  Francis  Thomp- 
son or  even  Dante  Rossetti ;  but  in  the  best  of  her  religious  pieces 
she  becomes  mystical,  precisely  because  of  the  definite  intimacy 
with  which  she  handles  Uranian  themes.  There  is  a  beautiful 
youthfulness  in  the  sharp  sweet  music  of  her  Garden;  a  lyric  breath, 
it  might  be,  from  the  unspoiled  hills  of  Oberammergau : 

Our  Lord,  Christ  Jesus,  Son  of  God, 
Loved  gardens  while  on  earth  He  abode. 
There  was  a  garden  where  He  took 
His  pleasures  oft,  by  Kedron's  brook. 
There  in  His  uttermost  agony 
He  found  a  pillow  whereon  to  lie 
And  anguish  while  His  disciples  slept. 
Be  sure  the  little  grass-blades  kept 
Vigil  with  Him,  and  the  grey  olives 
Shivered  and  sighed  like  one  that  grieves, 
And  the  flowers  hid  their  eyes  for  fear! 
His  garden  was  His  comforter. 
There  to  the  quiet  heart  He  made, 
He  came,   and   it  upheld   His  head 
Before  the  angel  did.     Therefore 
Blessed  be  gardens  evermore! 

The  song  gathers  up  then  the  story  of  another  garden,  wherein 
"  He  lay,  stabbed  through,  one  wound,"  the  quiet  earth  holding  Him 
close  for  His  three-days'  sleep.  And  it  is  here,  where  the  "  wid- 
owed flowers  "  are  bowed  low  with  watching,  that  the  dawn  of 
Easter  breaks: 

O!  in  the  beautiful  rose-red  day 
Who  comes  a-walking  down  this  way? 
Why's  Magdalen  weeping?    Ah,  sweet  lady, 
She  knows  not  where  is  her  Lord's  Body! 
Sweet  Magdalen,  see!  here  is  your  Love! 
Whom  Solomon's  seal  and  the  sweet-clove 
Brush  with  their  lips  as  He  goes  by. 
Now  bid  His  disciples  haste !     Bring  hither 
His  Mother  and  St.  John  together! 


218    POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON     [May, 

But  t'was  the  Garden  saw  Him  rise. 
Wherefore  she  flaunts  her  peacocks  eyes; 
Wherefore  her  birds  sing  low  and  loud, 
The  heart  that  bare  His  sleep  is  proud. 

It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  Mrs.  Hinkson's  poetry  to  fall  into 
the  snare  of  didacticism;  if  she  teaches,  we  do  not  know  it;  and  she 
is  wise  enough  to  seem  ignorant  of  it  herself.  Yet  we  cannot 
ignore  the  peculiar  nobility  with  which,  from  almost  every  angle, 
she  has  treated  the  subject  of  death.  It  is  not  merely  in  the 
religious  pieces;  nor  in  that  spirited  and  singing  bit  of  symbolism, 
Planting  Bulbs;  it  is  the  pervading  message  of  her  song.  From 
that  early  recognition  of  Azrael  (little-loved  yet  much-loving 
angel!)  in  the  very  youth  of  her  work,  our  poet  has  simply  dis- 
missed the  traditional  fear  of  death.  La  Fontaine's  fable  seems 
thin  and  poor  beside  her  bravely  gentle  Death  and  the  Man.  She 
has  found  a  stronger  thing — Love  which  casts  out  fear;  and  she 
carries  it  unhesitatingly  into  every  human  relationship.  Hence 
we  find  the  constantly  recurring  motive  of  the  return  of  the  dead : 
the  motive  of  the  dead  child  (surely  one  of  the  saddest  in  all 
literature!)  remembering  and  comforting  the  mother  still  "under 
sentence  of  life."  More  insistent  still  is  the  theme  of  the  dead 
mother,  who  returns  to  watch  over  her  little  ones  upon  earth. 
Shamrocks  gave  us  the  first  of  these  valiant,  piteous  women :  then 
came  The  Widowed  House  of  Cuckoo  Songs,  a  brief  piece  of  haunt- 
ing power  and  pathos: 

Within  your  house  that's  widowed  Love's  nest  is  bitter  cold, 
Love  goes  with  drooping  pinions,  his  pulses  slow  and  old ; 
Your  baby  cries  all  night  long  for  you  he  never  knew, 
The  dust  is  over  all  things :  the  grave  dust  over  you. 
******** 

'T  were  liker  you  to  hasten,  putting  the  glory  by, 
To  kiss  your  love's  cold  forehead  and  still  your  baby's  cry. 
'T  were  liker  you'd  come  stealing,  a  little  ghost  in  white, 
To  rock  a  tiny  cradle  all  in  the  hushed  moonlight, 
To  whisper  to  a  sleeper  till  he  should  dream  and  wake, 
And  find  the  strange  new  comfort  and  lose  the  old  heart-break. 
******** 

But  there  we  have  the  strongest  motive  in  all  Mrs.  Hinkson's 
poetry-^the  note  of  her  essential  motherhood.  It  has  been  as 
varied  as  maternity  itself:  first  a  thing  of  promise,  of  wistful- 


1913-]     POETRY   OF   KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON    219 

ness ;  then — in  the  whole  multitude  of  child  pieces — a  thing  of  sunny 
joy,  of  vigilance,  at  once  of  queenliness  and  humility.  In  the 
Lover's  Breast  Knot  there  is  the  other  story:  a  story  too  sacred 
and  too  sorrowful  to  tell  in  broken  fragments.  But  even  there 
love,  the  mother's  love,  manifestly  triumphs.  It  is  so  much  stronger 
than  death!  Katharine  Tynan  does  not  doubt  that  it  is  stronger 
also  than  hell ;  and  she  has  said  so  in  one  of  the*  most  striking 
poems  ever  written  on  the  subject.  Humanly  speaking,  Maternity 
is  really  the  last  word: 

There  is  no  height,  no  depth,  my  own,  could  set  us  apart, 
Body  of  mine  and  soul  of  mine :  heart  of  my  heart ! 
There  is  no  sea  so  deep,  my  own,  no  mountain  so  high, 
That  I  should  not  come  to  you  if  I  heard  ,you  cry. 
There  is  no  hell  so  sunken,  no  heaven  so  steep, 
Where  I  should  not  seek  my  own,  find  you  and  keep. 
Now  you  are  round  and  soft  to  see,  sweet  as  a  rose, 
Not  a  stain  on  my  spotless  one,  white  as  the  snows. 
If  some  day  you  came  to  me  heavy  with  sin, 
I,  your  mother,  would  run  to  the  door  and  let  you  in. 
I  would  wash  you  white  again  with  my  tears  and  grief, 
Body  of  mine  and  soul  of  mine,  till  you  found  relief. 
******* 

Child,  if  I  were  in  heaven  one  day  and  you  were  in  hell — 

Angels  white  as  my  spotless  one  stumbled  and  fell — 

I  would  leave  for  you  the  fields  of  God  and  Queen  Mary's  feet, 

Straight  to  the  heart  of  hell  would  go,  seeking  my  sweet. 

God  mayhap  would  turn  Him  around  at  sound  of  the  door: 

"  Who  is  it  goes  out  from  Me  to  come  back  no  more?  " 

Then  the  blessed  Mother  of  God  would  say  from  her  throne: 

"  Son,  'tis  a  mother  goes  to  hell,  seeking  her  own. 

Body  of  mine,  and  soul  of  mine,  born  of  me, 

Thou  Who  wert  once  little  Jesus  beside  my  knee, 

It  is  like  to  that  all  mothers  are  made :  Thou  madest  them  so. 

Body  of  mine  and  soul  of  mine,  do  I  not  know  ?  " 

If  poetry  must  be  haled  before  the  bar  of  theology,  these 
bold  stanzas  will,  indeed,  be  found  wanting.  There  is  not  much 
"  detachment "  in  them :  the  divine  mercy  and  justice  are  scarcely 
apparent.  The  white  light  of  perfect  wisdom  is  broken  into  fac- 
ets of  vibrating  color.  But  in  this  palpitating  purple,  this  crim- 
son of  the  heart's  own  blood,  is  there  not  some  passionate  reflec- 
tion of  the  love  which  surpasseth  woman's — the  Love  which,  when 


220    POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN  HINKSON     [May, 

sacrifice  and  burnt  offering  might  no  longer  avail,  cried  out  to 
His  Eternal  Father,  Lo,  I  come? 

There  is  nothing  in  all  the  love  poems  of  Katharine  Tynan 
to  equal  the  passion  of  Maternity.  Yet,  although  romantic  love 
has  scarcely  been  a  favorite  theme  with  her,  and  although  it  has 
been  a  theme  treated  with  reticence,  she  has  given  us  authentic 
love  songs  none  the  less.  In  the  early  poems  there  was  often 
a  note  of  wistfulness;  but  in  all  the  mature  work  it  is  calm  and 
sweet  fruition,  a  deep  but  scarcely  ruffled  music.  Once  again 
domesticity  dominates;  as  in  House  and  Home  and  the  Country 
Lover  the  sea  surges  toward  harbor  lights.  For  sundered  lovers, 
staggering  separately  the  long  Via  Crucis  till  paths  converge 
at  last — for  lovers  who  must  needs  do  battle  in  the  dust  and  heat 
and  darkness — for  lovers  bruised  and  broken  by  the  pitiless  waves 
of  life — our  poet  has  no  word.  But  the  True  Marriage  of  hidden 
grace  and  manifest  love,  the  union  grown  purer  by  long  use  and 
daily  sacrifice,  she  has  interpreted  with  delicate  and  exquisite 
fervor.  As  the  song  of  sorrows  borne  together,  Any  Wife,  a 
recent  poem,  is  fitting  complement  to  the  earlier  Breast  Knot. 
There  is  indeed  one  poem  in  which  a  note  of  compelling  passion 
rings;  but  this  is  a  poem  of  death  also,  The  Ghost.  Once  again  the 
loved  one  is  called  back  from  the  grave — back  from  the  cold  and 
darkness,  into  the  firelit  home.  And  the  final  stanza  is  magnificently 
dramatic — 

Fear!     Is  it  fear  of  you, 

And  on  my  breast  your  head? 
I  shall  but  fear  the  dawning  new, 

And  the  cocks  both  white  and  red! 

The  garden  is  primitive  always,  a  sweet  and  childlike  thing, 
with  the  lineaments  of  Eden  still  upon  its  face.  That  is  why 
we  have  so  insistently  kept  to  the  figure  of  the  garden  in  dealing 
with  Mrs.  Hinkson's  poetry.  It,  also,  is  fragrant  and  childlike: 
in  style  and  viewpoint,  too,  it  has  become  more  artless  with  the 
years.  It  has  the  beautiful  ingenuousness  of  maturity,  not  ques- 
tioning but  satisfied.  Its  music  is  determinately  simple  and  na'ive: 
deliciously  simple  in  the  better  pieces,  which,  by-the-by,  are  almost 
always  just  more  masterful,  more  spontaneous,  more  concentrated 
versions  of  the  weaker  ones.  But  simplicity,  as  Wordsworth 
proved,  is  a  difficult  grace  to  manage.  The  "  simple  life,"  save 
when  exquisite  choice  has  created  simplicity,  tends  to  become 


1913-]     POETRY   OF  KATHARINE   TYNAN   HINKSON    221 

the  meager  life;  the  professedly  simple  verse  trembles  upon  the 
verge  of  crudity  or  commonplace.  There  is  nothing  inherently 
wrong  about  such  phrases  as  "  Everyone  knew  you,  everyone  loved 
you  " — "  The  longer  I've  lost  you  the  more  I  miss  you :"  but  it 
is  hard  to  render  them  poetic,  because  they  are  saturated  and 
blurred  with  the  breath  of  everyday  usage.  There  are  other  ex- 
pressions, like  the  "  nurseries  of  heaven,"  which  fail  of  effect 
because  they  have  become  identified  with  another  and  a  master 
voice.  Mrs.  Hinkson  has  written  eleven  volumes  of  verse,  along 
with  an  enormous  production  of  prose  work.  It  would  be  in- 
credible, within  such  space,  if  she  had  not  proved  at  moments 
reminiscent,  both  of  herself  and  others.  Gardens  also  are  repe- 
titional;  gardens  are  over-productive;  and  left  to  themselves  create 
a  magnificent  harvest  of  weeds.  All  this  is  merely  pointing  out 
that  the  richer  the  soil,  the  more  certain  is  the  garden  to  have  need 
of  a  pruning  fork. 

And  Katharine  Tynan's  garden  has,  in  all  truth,  been  rich: 
in  sympathy,  in  variety,  in  those  rarer  virtues  of  sincerity  and 
idealized  realism.  Her  poetry  is  highly  emotional,  but  not,  for  the 
most  part,  stirred  by  the  profundities  of  passion  or  conviction.  It 
knows  little  of  conflict.  It  is  gentle,  gracious,  intensely  personal. 
When  it  reaches  out  to  experiences  as  old  and  as  large  as  humanity, 
it  does  so  by  the  simple  right  of  having  lived  and  felt  one  life  sensi- 
tively. There  is  no  effort  of  the  poet  to  "project"  her  soul — to  speak 
oracularly  or  vicariously.  Indeed,  she  is  no  lover  of  abstractions 
in  divine  or  human  things.  There  is  little  in  her  work  of  what 
we  are  fond  of  calling  Celtic  other-worldliness :  a  thing  beloved 
of  poet  and  dreamer,  not  unknown,  perhaps,  to  peasant  or  beggar; 
but  no  whit  more  real,  and  not  one-tenth  as  general  as  Celtic 
domesticity.  There  is  no  more  home-making  race  on  earth  than 
the  Irish,  and  the  Irishman  as  lover  (not  in  any  precise  sense 
mystical!)  has  become  a  fable  to  the  nations.  In  this  engaging 
sense  Mrs.  Hinkson's  poetry  is  Celtic  enough !  One  of  its  dominat- 
ing notes  has  been  the  love  of  Ireland — another  has  been  the  love 
of  motherhood — a  third  the  love  of  God.  It  is  a  very  good  tri- 
angle: almost  as  good  and  fair  and  comforting  as  the  little, 
immortal  shamrock  itself.  And  everyone  with  a  flash  of  Celtic 
fire  will  cry  out  upon  the  critic  that  we  shall  be  hard  put  to  better 
that! 


BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM. 

BY   THOMAS   J.    GERRARD. 

ETHERTO  the  upholders  and  the  opponents  of  free 
will  have  understood  each  other  fairly  well.  There 
has  been  no  doubt  as  to  the  point  at  issue. 
But  in  M.  Bergson's  philosophy,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  intellect  is  not  considered  the  supreme 
judge  and  guide  in  conduct.  Bergson's  conceptions  of  space  and 
time  and  flow  and  intuition  have  changed  all  this. 

Before  coming  to  real  grips  with  M.  Bergson  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  say  a  word  or  two  on  the  universally  accepted  doctrine 
of  free  will.  Free  will  implies  two  things:  an  intellectual  light, 
and  a  volition  freely  exerted  by  the  agent,  which  is  not  a 
necessary  result  of  his  nature  or  environment. 

The  function  of  his  intelligence  is  to  weigh  evidence.  And 
since  there  are  two  sides  to  every  question,  there  must  be  motives 
drawing  him  to  either  side.  But  the  weightier  motive  is  not 
sufficient  to  force  his  will  in  any  one  way.  Probably  he  will 
follow  the  weightier  motive,  and  an  outsider  knowing  all  the 
circumstances,  might  foretell  with  probability  which  course  he 
would  take.  But  he  could  not  foretell  with  certainty,  because  the 
freedom  inherent  in  the  will  defies  exact  calculation. 

M.  Bergson's  first  mistake  is  in  supposing  that  the  question 
of  freedom  confines  itself  either  to  determination  by  necessary 
causes  or  to  an  entire  absence  of  motives.  There  is  a  middle  course. 
The  will  is  influenced  to  a  certain  extent  by  evidence  duly 
weighed  by  the  intellect,  but  it  is  not  absolutely  determined  by  it. 

The  primary  testimony  of  freedom  is  a  strict  intuition.  If 
we  look  into  ourselves,  and  place  ourselves  between  two  alternatives, 
say  to  take  up  one  book  or  another,  or  to  take  up  a  book  or  leave 
it  alone,  we  see  immediately  without  discursive  reasoning  that  we 
are  able  to  choose.  Moreover,  this  consciousness  of  being  able  to 
choose  freely  is  present  before,  during,  and  after  the  act. 

This  consciousness  of  freedom,  so  universal  in  mankind,  and 
the  responsibility  universally  attached  to  human  acts,  prove  con- 
clusively that  freedom  must  be  considered  one  of  the  essential 
features  of  human  nature. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  223 

We  are,  now,  in  a  position  to  approach  M.  Bergson's  treatment 
of  it.  The  determinists  say  that  intellectual  light  destroys  freedom, 
since  it  acts  as  a  determining  motive.  M.  Bergson  says  that  they 
are  right  if  we  allow  the  intellect  to  be  a  motive  at  all.  Therefore, 
to  save  freedom  from  the  hands  of  the  determinists,  we  must, 
according  to  Bergson,  seek  for  it  elsewhere  than  in  the  choice 
between  two  alternatives  apprehended  by  the  intellect.  He  proposes 
to  find  it  in  the  very  rare  creative  acts  which  are  the  expression 
of  man's  whole  personality.  And  this  is  how  he  arrives  at  his, 
conclusion. 

The  great  bugbear  which  bars  the  way  to  a  solution  of  the 
problem  is  space.  Psychic  states  pertain  to  real  time,  the  all- 
important  flowing  "  now,"  whereas  space  does  not.  Time  flown 
may  be  represented  by  spatial  pictures,  but  not  time  flowing.  An 
act  of  freedom  is  a  supreme  psychic  state;  therefore  it  cannot  be 
measured,  nor  compared  with  alternative  courses  proposed  by  the 
intellect.* 

About  two-thirds  of  the  volume  treating  particularly  of  this 
subject,  is  devoted  to  the  attempt  to  show  that  psychic  states  are 
not  subject  to  the  laws  of  mathematics  and  geometry,  or,  in  other 
words,  that  if  they  can  be  said  to  be  greater  or  less,  the  difference 
is  one  of  intensity  and  not  of  extensity.     When  I  am  sorry  my 
sorrow  is  neither  square  nor  round,  and  when  I  am  glad  my  glad- 
ness is  neither  seven  nor  eight.     If  we  attach  magnitude  to  psychic 
states,  it  is  only  because  the  intellect,   being  normally  at  home 
with  solids,  uses  analogies  of  spatial  magnitude  to  represent  that 
which  has  no  space  and  no  measurement.     Psychic  states  simply 
endure  in  an  unceasing  flow,  and  consequently  any  intellectual  or 
pictorial  representation  of  them  is  entirely  inadequate  to  the  reality, 
and  is  but  an  artificial  device  for  the  practical  purposes  of  life. 
We  should,  therefore,  distinguish  two  forms  of  multiplicity; 
two  very  different  ways  of  regarding  duration;  two  aspects 
of  conscious  life.     Below  homogeneous  duration,  which  is  the 
extensive  symbol  of  true  duration,  a  close  psychological  analysis 
distinguishes  a   duration   whose  heterogeneous  moments   per- 
meate one  another;  below  the  self  with  well-defined  states,  a 
self  in  which  succeeding  each  other  means  melting  into  one 
another  and  forming  an  organic  whole.     But  we  are  generally 
content  with  the  first,  i.  e.,  with  the  shadow  of  the  self  projected 
into  homogeneous  space.     Consciousness  goaded  by  an  insa- 
tiable desire  to  separate,  substitutes  the  symbol  for  the  reality, 

*Time  and  Free   Will,  xix. 


224  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  [May, 

or  perceives  the  reality  only  through  the  symbol.  As  the  self 
thus  refracted,  and  thereby  broken  to  pieces,  is  much  better 
adapted  to  the  requirements  of  social  life  in  general  and  lan- 
guage in  particular,  consciousness  prefers  it,  and  gradually 
loses  sight  of  the  fundamental  self.* 

If  we  are  to  observe  where  freedom  lies,  so  it  is  contended, 
we  must  ever  turn  our  eye  on  these  two  aspects  of  self.  The 
surface  self  which  is  intellectual  and  static  must  be  subject  to 
the  laws  of  science,  and  consequently  cannot  be  free.  Whereas 
the  fundamental  self,  being  independent  of  space,  independent 
of  laws,  independent  of  intellect,  must  be  free.  In  this  fluid, 
fundamental  self  lies  the  kinetic  action  of  the  whole  soul:  the 
gathering  up  of  the  whole  of  the  life  force. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  associate  a  number  of  conscious  states 
in  order  to  rebuild  the  person,  for,  according  to  M.  Bergson,  the 
whole  personality  is  in  a  single  one  of  them,  provided  that  we 
know  how  to  choose  it.  Such  a  manifestation  of  this  inner  state 
will  be  a  free  act,  since  the  self  alone  has  been  the  author  of  it, 
and  since  it  will  express  the  whole  of  the  self.  Freedom,  thus 
understood,  is  not  absolute,  as  a  radically  libertarian  philosophy 
would  have  it;  it  admits  of  degrees.  Many  people,  M.  Bergson 
asserts,  do  not  allow  all  their  experiences  to  sink  down  into  this 
fundamental  self.  In  fact  the  chosen  ones  are  very  few.  "  Free 
acts  are  exceptional  even  on  the  part  of  those  who  are  most  given 
to  controlling  and  reasoning  out  what  they  do."  M.  Bergson  goes 
so  far  as  to  say  that  an  act  which  is  the  result  of  this  bubbling 
up  of  what  he  calls  the  inner  life,  even  though  the  same  be  unreason- 
able, may  be  a  free  act.  In  fact  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate 
the  extent  to  which  in  Bergson's  philosophy  reason  is  prostituted.f 
With  Bergson  the  force  which  is  supposed  to  rise  up  and 
burst  into  freedom  is  composed  indiscriminately  of  feelings  and 
ideas.  He  states  that  we  have  two  selves  at  variance  with  each 
other.  And  most  important  of  all  he  gives  the  palm  of  freedom 
to  blind  inclination  in  preference  to  intellectual  vision.  All  this, 
it  is  calmly  assumed,  is  our  highest  and  noblest  life,  the  very 
quintessence  of  a  life  spent  in  forming  a  happy  and  honorable 
character. 

When  intellect  and  space  have  been  excluded  from  the  process, 
when  the  free  act  has  been  placed  in  the  fluid  "  now,"  when  the 
faculty  by  which  it  is  perceived  is  declared  to  be  only  feeling, 

*Time  and  Free  Will.  p.   128.  *Ibid.,  p.   167. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  225 

there  must  necessarily  arise  some  difficulty  in  defining  what  free- 
dom is.  M.  Bergson  says  quite  frankly  that  it  is  indefinable. 
If  he  attempted  to  define  it,  he  would  crystallize  it,  and  at 
once  thereby  concede  the  whole  case  to  the  determinists.  He 
must,  therefore,  keep  the  concept  nebulous.  Clearness  is  static, 
whilst  nebulosity  is  always  shifting. 

A  very  strange  and  significant  admission  on  the  part  of  a 
philosopher  to  say  he  is  unable  to  define  his  terms.  It  is  an 
admission  that  he  is  cornered.  We  must  retrace  his  steps  to  see 
where  he  went  wrong,  and  how  he  became  thus  cornered. 

According  to  evolutionary  philosophy,  the  initial  thrust  of 
creative  evolution  has  evolved  man  as  we  know  him.  Various 
branches  of  life  have  bifurcated.  Intellect  is  but  a  development 
of  sensation.  Intellect  and  sensation,  therefore,  are  always  radi- 
cally the  same  thing.  Intellect  is  always  extended.  Hence  M. 
Bergson  is  beset  with  the  difficulty  of  trying  to  escape  extension. 
If  he  had  admitted  at  the  beginning,  as  the  schoolmen  do, 
that  there  is  an  essential  difference  between  intellect  and  sensation, 
he  would  not  thus  have  impaled  himself.  St.  Thomas  states  this 
position  so  delicately  and  clearly  that  we  cannot  do  better  than 
repeat  his  words.  He  seems  almost  to  have  foreseen  the  specula- 
tions of  M.  Bergson. 

Distance  in  place  ordinarily  affects  sense,  not  intellect,  except 
incidentally,  where  intellect  has  to  gather  its  data  from  sense. 
For  while  there  is  a  definite  law  of  distance,  according  to  which 
sensible  objects  affect  sense,  terms  of  intellect,  as  they  impress 
the  intellect,  are  not  in  place,  but  are  separate  from  bodily 

matter Terms  of  intellect  are  as  independent  of  time 

as  they  are  of  place.  Time  follows  upon  local  motion,  and 
measures  such  things  only  as  are  in  some  manner  placed 

in  space Time  is  a  condition  of  our  intellectual  activity, 

since  we  receive  knowledge  from  phantasms  that  regard  a  fixed 
time.  Hence  to  its  judgments,  affirmative  and  negative,  our 
intelligence  always  appends  a  fixed  time,  except  when  it  under- 
stands the  essence  of  a  thing.  It  understands  essence  by  ab- 
stracting terms  of  understanding  from  the  conditions  of  sensible 
things:  hence  in  that  operation  it  understands  irrespectively 
of  time  and  other  conditions  of  sensible  things.* 

Here  St.  Thomas  puts  the  operations  of  the  intellect  beyond 
both  space  and  time.  Had  M.  Bergson  not  been  obsessed  by 
radical  evolutionism,  he  need  not  have  written  the  first  two  long 

*Contra  Gentiles,  Lib.  II.,   Cap.  XCVI. 
VOL.   XCVII. — 15. 


226  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  [May, 

chapters  of  his  Time  and  Free  Will.  The  free  act  is  essentially 
independent  of  time  and  space.  We  grant  him  that,  not  because 
fluid  time  is  not  space,  but  because  the  acts  of  the  intellect  are  simple, 
spiritual,  unextended  acts,  and,  therefore,  essentially  beyond  time 
and  space. 

The  intellect  thus  rescued  from  the  necessitous  bonds  of  sensa- 
tion is  rescued  from  all  determinist  danger.  When  M.  Bergson 
confuses  intellect  with  sensation,  he  first  concedes  with  the  right 
hand  to  the  determinist  that  which  he  afterwards  tries  to  take 
away  with  the  left.  There  is  no  need  for  these  contortions.  The 
intellect  is  essentially  distinct  from  sense.  Our  consciousness  tells 
us  that  we  are  able  to  think  universal  concepts  which  are  beyond  the 
limitations  of  sense.  We  can  picture,  for  instance,  with  the  imagi- 
nation an  individual  man,  and  such  an  individual  must  have  a  definite 
size  and  shape.  But  we  can  also  think  of  the  universal  concept  "man" 
which  has  no  definite  size  or  shape.  If  the  intellect  is  essentially 
independent  of  time  and  space,  it  can  provide  a  spiritual  motive 
for  the  will  which  can  influence  the  will  without  forcing  it. 

Even  those  of  us  who  hold  the  traditional  doctrine  of  free 
will,  need  to  be  constantly  on  our  guard  against  misunderstanding 
the  use  of  the  word  "  motive."  We  need  constantly  to  remind 
ourselves  that  when  we  speak  of  the  spirit  we  must  needs  do  so  in 
terms  of  the  flesh.  These  terms  are  analogical,  and  are  not  quite 
adequate  for  their  purpose.  When  we  speak  of  motive  power 
applied  by  one  spiritual  faculty  to  another,  it  is  not  the  same  kind 
of  motive  power  as  that  which  is  applied  by  a  sledge  hammer 
to  a  wedge.  One  is  vital  and  spiritual,  whilst  the  other  is  me- 
chanical and  material.  The  latter  is  of  its  nature  necessitous, 
whilst  the  former  of  its  nature  is  free. 

This  confusion  has  constrained  M.  Bergson  to  deny  freedom 
to  acts  which  hitherto  have  been  considered  free,  and  to  attribute 
freedom  to  acts  which  may  or  may  not  be  free. 

His  continued  attempt  to  obscure  the  intellectual  life  by  an 
appeal  to  life  as  a  whole,  really  an  appeal  to  the  whole  life  minus 
intellect,  reaches  the  height  of  the  picturesque  when  M.  Bergson 
tries  to  explain  away  our  deliberation  between  two  courses  of  action. 

In  reality  there  are  not  two  tendencies,  or  even  two  direc- 
tions, but  a  self  which  lives  and  develops  by  means  of  its  very 
.hesitations,  until  the  free  action  drops  from  it  like  an  over- 
ripe fruit.* 

*Time  and  Free  Will,  p.  176. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  227 

Our  first  criticism  of  the  foregoing  doctrine  will  be  an  appeal 
to  that  very  consciousness  of  living  upon  which  M.  Bergson 
depends  so  much.  He  appeals  to  that  consciousness,  and  rightly 
so  too,  for  evidence  that  some  of  our  acts  are  free.  But  does  not 
consciousness  announce  the  possibility  of  choosing  an  alternative? 
Does  not  consciousness  announce  the  same  thing  equally  before, 
during,  and  after  the  act  which  is  in  fact  chosen?  If  consciousness 
does  not  announce  this,  it  announces  nothing  at  all. 

Nor  is  M.  Bergson  any  better  off  if  we  appeal  to  discursive 
reasoning.  To  what  sort  of  acts  are  praise  and  blame  attached? 
For  what  acts  is  a  person  held  responsible,  for  the  deliberate  ones 
or  the  impulsive  ones? 

Take  a  prisoner  who  is  charged  with  the  capital  offence. 
Let  time  and  space  enter  very  much  into  his  deed.  Let  him  be 
known  to  have  traversed  continents,  to  have  taken  weeks  and 
months  to  mature  his  crime.  Let  him  pass  through  all  those  acts 
which  are  indicative  of  intellectual  deliberation.  Let  all  this  be 
proved  against  him,  and  any  jury  will  find  him  guilty  without  any 
recommendation  to  mercy.  On  the  other  hand,  let  him  be  known 
to  have  acted  on  the  impulse  of  passion.  Let  him  be  known  to  be 
subject  to  brain-storms,  those  sudden  outbursts  of  elemental  pas- 
sion, jealousy,  anger,  and  the  like.  Let  it  be  proved  that  he  acted 
without  deliberation.  Let  it  be  shown  that  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  the  process  was  in  the  fluid  "now"  (or  "then").  The 
jury  would  undoubtedly  hesitate  to  pronounce  him  guilty.  It  would 
declare  rather  that  he  was  devoid  of  the  intellectual  light  neces- 
sary for  freedom. 

Or  take  a  case  of  a  great  act,  done  at  a  crisis  in  a  man's 
life,  which  the  world  praises;  let  us  say  the  conversion  of  Newman. 
Undoubtedly  that  act  was  the  sum  total  of  his  past  life,  surface 
life  as  well  as  fundamental.  Undoubtedly  influences  were  at  work 
which  he  had  forgotten.  But  then  his  mind  was  able  to  summarize 
his  past  thought.  His  will  had  formed  volitional  habits  ever 
tending  Godwards.  And  long  years  after  the  act  he  was  able  to 
go  back  on  his  past  life  and  record  the  chief  of  the  reasons  which 
had  urged  him  onward.  He  was  able  to  write  a  whole  book, 
which  was  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word  an  Apologia  pro  Vita 
Sua.  And  who  shall  say  that  reason  does  not  predominate  in 
every  line  of  it?  Yet  it  is  not  for  the  reasons  which  he  gives 
that  the  world  admires  him.  There  are  thousands  upon  thousands 
who  admire  his  act  whilst  profoundly  disagreeing  with  its  reasons. 


228  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  [May, 

It  is  because  he  acted  in  deference  to  conscience,  because  he  could 
have  remained  where  he  was,  but  freely  preferred  to  follow  the 
"  kindly  light." 

Then  what  shall  we  say  of  those  whose  past  life  has  been 
one  of  sin,  and  who  suddenly  become  converted.  Sin  implies  a 
direction  away  from  God,  whilst  conversion  implies  the  very  oppo- 
site. We  may  take  either  St.  Paul  or  St.  Augustine  or  some  of 
those  non-Catholic  varieties  quoted  by  Professor  William  James. 
Are  the  free  actions  of  these  men  to  be  compared  with  the  fall  of 
an  over-ripe  fruit?  The  whole  trend  and  growth  of  the  character 
of  Paul  had  been  towards  the  persecution  of  others.  Then  when 
the  light  suddenly  came,  he  was  able  to  turn  right  about  and  begin 
an  entirely  new  life.  Self -development  along  the  old  lines  would 
only  have  taken  him  further  and  further  away  from  the  free  life 
which  was  afterwards  to  be  such  a  joy  to  him. 

St.  Augustine  has  left  us  an  account*  of  passions  tending  to 
determine  him  one  way  and  of  freely  fighting  against  them.  But 
he  requires  time  and  space  and  something  else.  An  outside  free 
Power  must  raise  and  accentuate  his  own  freedom. 

Then  outside  Catholicism  there  is  the  case  which  Newman 
describes  as  "  the  almost  miraculous  conversion  and  subsequent 
life  of  Colonel  Gardiner."f  Professor  James  speaks  of  it  as 
"  the  classic  case  of  Colonel  Gardiner,"  the  man  who  was  cured 
of  sexual  temptation  in  a  single  hour.  To  Mr.  Spears  the  Colonel 
said :  "I  was  effectually  cured  of  all  inclination  to  that  sin  I  was 
so  strongly  addicted  to,  that  I  thought  nothing  but  shooting  me 
through  the  head  could  have  cured  me  of  it;  and  all  desire  and 
inclination  to  it  was  removed,  as  entirely  as  if  I  had  been  a  suckling 
child;  nor  did  the  temptation  return  to  this  day."J  Mr.  Webster's 
words  on  the  same  subject  are  these :  "  One  thing  I  have  heard 
the  Colonel  frequently  say,  that  he  was  much  addicted  to  impurity 
before  his  acquaintance  with  religion;  but  that  so  soon  as  he  was 
enlightened  from  above,  he  felt  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
changing  his  nature  so  wonderfully  that  his  sanctification  in  this 
respect  seemed  more  remarkable  than  in  any  other.  "§ 

In  presenting  these  examples,  let  us  beware  of  a  possible 
Bergsonian  retort  that  these  lives  were  one  continuous  flow,  and 
that  conversion  was  but  a  curve  in  the  direction.  The  question  we 
are  dealing  with  at  present  is  not  the  flow  but  the  freedom.  M. 

*  Confessions,  Book  VI.,  ch.  xi.         t Difficulties  of  Anglicans,  vol.  i.,  p.  91. 
^Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  269.  §Ibid. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  229 

Bergson  places  freedom  in  the  gathering  up  and  bursting  of  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  life.  But  if  this  were  true,  then  a  sinful  course 
of  life  ought  to  fructify  in  sin,  and  the  free  act  should  be  a  sinful 
act  falling  from  the  sinner  like  over-ripe  fruit.  But  in  the  cases 
just  quoted,  it  is  precisely  the  contrary  which  happens.  The  act 
of  conversion,  instead  of  being  the  ripe  fruit  of  past  conduct,  is 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life.  The  continuum  is  broken.  The  new 
life  is  discontinuous  from  the  old,  being  of  an  entirely  different 
order.  Nay  it  is  the  very  discontinuity  which  is  counted  as  meri- 
torious. The  freedom  and  responsibility  was  present,  for  the  world 
does  not  praise  where  there  is  no  responsibility.  Nor  does  the 
presence  of  grace,  admitted  in  all  three  cases,  lessen  the  respon- 
sibility or  deprive  the  agents  of  merit. 

It  remains  for  us  now  to  do  for  M.  Bergson  that  which  he  has 
declined  to  do  for  himself,  namely,  to  define  his  so-called  freedom. 

The  only  vestige  of  freedom  which  he  has  retained  is  the 
name.  The  thing  itself  he  has  utterly  sponged  out  from  his  method. 
The  thing  which  he  calls  freedom  is  the  act  which  is  the  result 
of  all  the  powers  of  the  soul.  This  might  possibly  be  a  free  act  if  all 
the  powers  of  the  soul  were  reviewed  by  the  intelligence,  and 
under  intellectual  light  found  expression  through  the  will.  But 
then,  on  the  other  hand,  M.  Bergson  excludes  the  intellectual  light. 
On  one  page  he  asks  for  the  activity  of  the  whole  soul,  whilst 
on  the  next  page  it  is  the  whole  soul  minus  intelligence  which  he 
requires. 

The  difference  between  the  Bergsonian  crisis  and  the  old  deter- 
minist  crisis  is  like  that  between  the  crisis  of  the  modern  motor 
car  and  the  old  stagecoach.  If  the  old  stagecoach  went  smash, 
why  there  you  were.  But  if  the  modern  motor  car  goes  smash, 
why  where  are  you?  The  brute  beasts  act  in  response  to  their 
whole  souls.  When  the  tiger  is  enraged,  the  whole  gamut  of  his 
feelings  are  actuated,  and  his  resolve  falls  from  his  individuality 
like  over-ripe  fruit.  And  if  we  exclude  the  deliberations  of  the 
intellect  from  resolutions  of  man,  the  "  whole  soul  "  which  is  left 
is  precisely  similar  to  that  of  the  tiger.  So  this  is  the  definition 
which  we  must  impose  on  Bergsonian  freedom — sheer  animal  im- 
pulse. 

Indeed,  in  his  later  work  he  seems  to  accept  this  conclusion: 

We  have  already  said  that  animals  and  vegetables  must  have 
separated  soon  from  their  common  stock,  the  vegetable  falling 


230  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  [May, 

asleep  in  immobility,  the  animal,  on  the  contrary,  becoming 
more  and  more  awake,  and  marching  on  to  the  conquest  of 
a  nervous  system.  Probably  the  effort  of  the  animal  kingdom 
resulted  in  creating  organisms  still  very  simple,  but  endowed 
with  a  certain  freedom  of  action,  and,  above  all,  with  a  shape 
so  undecided  that  it  could  lend  itself  to  any  future  determina- 
tion. These  animals  may  have  resembled  some  of  our 
worms * 

In  this  case  there  is  no  difference  whatever  between  freedom  and 
necessity.  Determinism  triumphs,  but  in  the  name  of  freedom. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  effect  of  this  philosophy,  on  other 
manifestations  of  the  time-spirit  of  which  it  is  itself  the  outcome. 
If  this  new  concept  of  freedom  be  true,  then  the  doctrine  of  man's 
self-perfectibility  is  absolute  and  final,  mere  sensation  is  the  norm 
of  morality,  and  man  is  locked  up  for  ever  in  pure  subjectivism. 
The  new  thing  does  not  show  itself  under  these  ugly  names,  but 
clothes  itself  with  such  terms  as  "self-realization;"  "enhancement 
of  life;"  "  living  out  one's  own  nature." 

Looked  at  more  closely,  the  new  thing  is  found  to  be  com- 
posed chiefly  of  the  three  appetites :  for  gold,  sex,  and  independence, 
respectively.  When  the  elan  vital  appears  as  the  lust  for  gold,  it 
sets  up  the  banner  of  freedom  of  contract.  If  it  can  only  play 
upon,  or  rather  prey  upon,  the  poor  man's  need  of  bread,  it  ignores 
all  sense  of  the  real  thing,  freedom.  Lust  determines  the  signature 
of  the  contract  on  the  one  part,  and  hunger  determines  the  signa- 
ture of  the  contract  on  the  other. 

When  the  vital  impulse  thrusts  itself  onward  under  the  form  of 
sexual  appetite,  it  does  so  in  the  name  of  love.  It  even  counts 
as  immoral  any  attempt  to  keep  this  love  within  any  constraining 
limits  of  law.  "  He  who  feels  strongly  enough,"  writes  Ellen 
Key,  "  does  not  ask  himself  whether  he  has  a  right  to  that  feeling 
— he  is  so  enlarged  by  his  love  that  he  feels  the  life  of  humanity 
is  enlarged  by  him."  The-pity  is  that  those  who  adopt  such  teach- 
ing find  out  their  mistake  when  it  is  too  late.  The  surrender 
to  erotic  excitement  is  the  passing  from  personal  liberty  into  abject 
slavery,  and  there  is  no  need  to  describe  further  the  lamentable 
results  of  it. 

When  the  creative  evolution  expands  as  the  lust  for  inde- 
pendgice,  there  is  no  sphere  of  life  that  it  may  not  vitiate.  Every- 
where law  is  needed  to  protect  personal  freedom  from  the  intrusion 

^Creative  Evolution,  p.   136. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FREEDOM  231 

of  undue  determining  forces.  But  the  lust  for  independence  is 
impatient  of  all  law.  Independence,  therefore,  is  the  great  enemy 
of  freedom.  If  freedom  is  to  reign,  the  lust  for  independence 
must  be  kept  within  the  bounds  of  reason.  And  this  must  be  done 
immediately  and  constantly,  for  the  more  the  passion  is  allowed 
independence  the  more  it  grows  in  intensity,  and  the  less  reason 
and  will  are  exercised  in  controlling  it  so  much  the  weaker  do 
these  faculties  become.  The  appetites  for  gold,  sex,  and  inde- 
pendence are  not  bad  things  in  themselves.  They  are  the  spon- 
taneous motor  forces  which  are  designed  to  carry  on  the  existence 
of  the  race.  But  lest  they  should  be  dissipated  in  aimless  diffusion, 
laws  are  needed  to  economize  them. 

We  cordially  agree,  therefore,  with  M.  Bergson  that  the  whole 
problem  of  free  will  harks  back  to  the  question:  Is  time  space? 
We  agree  with  him  that  time  is  not  space.  But  we  profoundly 
disagree  with  him  in  divorcing  time  from  space  as  he  does.  They 
are  indissolubly  wedded  together.  And  I  speak  here  not  merely 
of  space  and  time-flown,  but  of  space  and  time-flowing.  Flowing 
time  has  no  meaning  unless  there  be  moving  bodies  with  which  to 
measure  it.  But  space  is  an  essential  quality  of  moving  bodies. 
Space,  therefore,  is  wanted  to  give  definition  to  what  would  other- 
wise be  a  vague  and  nebulous  idea  of  flowing  time. 

Nay  the  problem  rather  harks  further  back  to  the  most  ele- 
mentary question  of  all:  Is  "being"  identical  with  "becoming?" 
It  is  not.  But  "  being  "  is  needed  for  "  becoming."  Before  we 
can  treat  of  "  becoming  "  as  a  reality  at  all,  we  must  first  satisfy 
ourselves  that  it  is. 

Similarly  must  we  run  this  metaphysical  principle  through 
the  whole  course  of  our  reasoning.  As  "  being  "  is  wanted  for 
"becoming,"  so  is  the  static  wanted  for  the  kinetic,  so  is  space 
wanted  for  time,  so  is  reason  wanted  for  will,  so  is  authority 
wanted  for  autonomy,  and  so  is  law  wanted  for  freedom.  Yes, 
even  in  the  simplest  acts  of  free  will  some  laws  must  be  observed. 
Even  if  it  be  such  a  simple  choice  as  to  whether  I  shall  stand  up 
or  sit  down,  law  must  be  taken  into  account.  It  will  not  do  for 
me  to  yield  to  any  inclination  whatsoever  and  tumble  about  any- 
where. I  must  reckon  with  the  law  of  gravity,  for  instance,  and 
the  equilibrium  of  forces.  Otherwise  I  might  sit  down  to  my 
unexpected  discomfiture. 


GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS. 

BY    KATHERINE   G.    KENNEDY. 

ROM  England,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Joseph  Carney;  his 
appraising  eye  noting  the  weathered  state  of  Willett's 
clothes.  "  You're  a  long  way  from  home  then." 
"  It  seems  a  longer  way  than  it  is,  since  I've 
been  walking  about  trying  to  find  a  place.  It's  very 
difficult  for  a  stranger." 

"  I  suppose  so."  Mr.  Carney's  tone  indicated  that  he  hoped 
it  might  be  difficult  for  such  a  trampish-looking  fellow  to  find  a 
place  in  a  law  firm. 

"  I've  had  the  best  of  training,  sir,  and  experience  too,  both 
in  chambers  and  at  the  bar.  I  can  be  of  use  to  you  I  know." 

Mr.  Joseph  Carney  grunted  as  he  strained  his  vigorous  mind 
to  a  point  of  decision.  Heaven  knows  he  needed  help,  Parker 
down  with  pneumonia,  and  the  Brandon  case  coming  to  trial  in 
a  week's  time,  but  he  did  not  want  a  vagabond  Englishman.  The 
fellow  had  no  recommendations,  and  he  looked  like  a  tramp ;  besides 
Mr.  Joseph  Carney  did  not  like  an  Englishman.  Mr.  Joseph  Car- 
ney was  an  Irishman;  not,  be  it  noted,  the  Irishman  one  finds  in 
books.  There  was  not  the  least  likelihood  of  Mr.  Joseph  Carney 
slapping  the  back  of  a  shabby  coat  or  striking  palms  fraternally 
with  its  humble  occupant.  Mr.  Carney,  the  attorney,  was  a  man  of 
standing  in  his  profession,  and  he  displayed  his  warmest  favor 
toward  good  tailoring  and  clean  linen. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  hesitating,  his  tall  figure  silhouetted 
against  the  snowstorm  beyond  the  window.  Then  he  turned  to 
Willett,  thin-lipped,  stern-browed,  and  grudgingly  surrendered.  "I'll 
try  you  for  a  week,"  he  said,  and  rang  the  bell.  Craig  gravely 
responded.  He  hung  Willett's  hat  in  the  corner  closet,  unearthed 
a  load  of  papers  from  the  files  for  his  benefit,  and  laid  them  on 
Parker's  desk. 

Kate  Desmond,  returning  a  half  hour  later  from  the  luncheon 
she  had  enjoyed  on  the  eleventh  floor  of  a  neighboring  department 
stora,  found  Willett  working  as  busily  and  tranquilly  at  Parker's 
desk  as  though  it  had  been  his  accustomed  location  for  years. 
She  regarded  him  with  silent  interest,  while  she  shook  the  snow 


1913.]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  233 

from  her  hat  and  coat  and  hung  them  up.  As  she  opened  the 
little  gate  to  enter  the  part  of  the  large  room  which  was  railed 
off  from  the  clerks,  she  caught  Craig's  eye.  He  nodded  toward 
Willett  with  a  whimsical  smile,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  See  what 
I  got  for  you  while  you  were  gone."  Kate  puckered  her  brow 
into  an  expressive  half  inquiry,  half  surprise,  and  hurried  to  her 
place.  She  inserted  a  sheet  of  paper  into  the  typewriter  with  a 
click  and  a  slide,  and  immediately  a  shower  of  taps  filled  the  room 
with  its  monotonous  song. 

Outside  the  fall  of  wet  sodden  snow  had  been  followed 
by  rain,  and  a  rising  wind  that  blew  it  in  sheets  down  the  channels 
of  streets. 

Mr.  Joseph  Carney  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  inner  sanctum, 
and  gladdened  his  sight  for  a  moment  with  the  picture  of  industry 
which  his  little  group  of  drones  presented.  He  waited  until  Willett 
looked  up,  and  then  called  him  in.  As  he  disappeared  Craig  turned 
in  his  chair  and  whistled;  Kate  trailed  a  glance  over  her  shoulder, 
and  the  typewriter  song  slowed  up  and  stopped. 

"  Woman,  dear,"  cried  Craig  in  a  voice  comically  husky, 
"  d'ye  r'alize  what's  befallen  us  ?  " 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  she  asked  ignoring  his  broad  humor. 

Craig  assumed  a  lofty  tone.  "  Tis  he  the  enemy,"  he  asserted, 
summoning  all  his  dramatic  powers  to  enliven  the  speech  he  had 
spent  the  last  half  hour  composing.  "  He  who  spilt  your  sires' 
blood  at  Drogheda  and  Wexford,  and  who  tried  to  stifle  freedom 
at  Bunker  Hill  and  Lexington,  is  even  now  amongst  us." 

"An  Englishman,  but  how  did  he  come  in  here?" 

"  That,"  answered  Craig  still  using  the  heroic  style,  "  is  a 
story  of  discovery,  adventure,  and  conquest.  The  beginning  of  it 
is  that  the  old  man  received  word  an  hour  ago  that  Parker's  cold 
had  developed  into  pneumonia,  and  the  news  threw  him  into  a  fit; 
the  suits  against  the  foundry  being  already  on  the  calendar,  and 
a  call  to  the  Court  of  Appeals  expected  in  the  near  future.  He 
called  me  in,  and  briefly  gave  me  the  job  of  finding  a  first-class 
man  to  fill  Parker's  place  immediately.  There  was  no  use  to 
reason  with  him.  He  was  beyond  such  treatment,  so  I  started  out 
to  find  the  impossible.  I  went  first  to  the  law  school,  but  as  I  met 
the  jostling,  gibbering  crowd  coming  out,  I  turned  back  in  despair. 
I  happened  to  think  that  the  law  librarian  might  know  someone,  and 
went  speedily  over  to  the  library.  I  almost  knocked  a  man  down 
when  I  opened  the  door  suddenly,  and  as  I  turned  to  apologize  he 


234  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  [May, 

button-holed  me.  He  was  an  experienced  barrister,  he  explained, 
lately  from  England,  and  was  looking  for  a  position  in  this  land  of 
free  opportunity.  I  did  not  notice  that  he  looked  like  a  member 
of  the  bread  line,  or  the  snow  shovellers'  union,  until  I  got  out 
on  the  street  with  him.  Then  I  would  have  been  glad  to  lose  him, 
but  he  hung  close  to  me,  and  talked  cheerfully  while  he  splashed 
along  in  a  leaky  pair  of  shoes. 

"  Probably  he  isn't  a  lawyer  at  all,"  said  Kate. 

"  You  are  wrong  there,  Katherine,"  returned  Craig  gravely. 
"  He  is  all  he  claims,  and  more  yet." 

"How  can  you  tell?" 

"  By  the  look  of  him,  or  rather  by  the  look  he  wore  when 
he  went  in  to  see  Carney.  You  see  before  I  reached  the  office 
door,  I  had  concluded  that  he  would  look  a  mighty  foolish  propo- 
sition to  the  old  man,  so  I  decided  to  defer  explaining  until  after 
he  had  been  ejected.  I  pushed  open  the  door,  announced  him 
by  name,  and  then  turned  to  tell  my  shabby  discovery  to  walk  in. 
It  was  then  I  realized  his  size  and  quality,  and  as  he  stepped  in 
I  distinctly  felt  that  he  would  not  come  out  until  he  chose.  He 
wore  an  expression  that  was  as  cheerful  as  it  was  compelling,  and 
seemed  to  assert  that  wearing  shabby  clothes  was  his  own  chosen 
peculiarity — a  thing  to  be  smiled  at  in  a  man  of  manner  and 
bearing." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  strong  expression  to  induce  Carney 
to  accept  such  a  shabby  looking  fellow."  Kate  was  not  entirely 
satisfied  by  Craig's  explanation  of  the  miracle  that  had  taken  place 
in  her  absence. 

"  Well,  it  might  not  have  succeeded  another  time,"  reflected 
Craig  more  coolly,  "  but  you  see  this  morning  the  old  man  was 
worried,  and  in  his  perplexity  he  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
counselor  for  the  diocese." 

"  He  was  so  sunk  in  the  blues  that  he  forgot  the  purple," 
laughed  Kate. 

"  Exactly,  and  yet  more,  for  he  forgot  the  green  as  well. 
No  officer  in  the  Irish  League  should  be  found  hobnobbing  with 
an  Englishman,  but  that's  the  dramatic  point,"  he  chuckled.  "Think 
of  it !  A  copy  of  the  resolutions  endorsing  John  Redmond  reposes 
in  the  very  desk  the  Briton  uses." 

The  entrance  of  a  couple  of  black-shirted  moulders,  who  had 
come  Mp  to  give  evidence  in  the  Brandon  case,  interrupted  the 
laugh  which  Craig  had  provoked.  As  they  passed  in  to  see  Carney, 


.  1913-]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  235 

the  new  clerk  came  out,  and  Kate  gave  him  her  unmeasured  atten- 
tion in  an  effort  to  see  what  had  reconciled  the  chief  to  any  thing 
so  dishevelled  in  appearance.  She  saw  a  slender  figure  that  was 
not  tall,  and  a  pair  of  masterful  blue  eyes  filled  with  eager  interest. 
He  unloaded  an  armful  of  books  on  to  his  desk,  and  spoke  to  Craig. 
"  There's  nothing  better  than  the  chance  to  handle  a  nice  bit  of 
law."  His  English  voice  was  pleasantly  modulated,  and  he  enun- 
ciated well,  cutting  his  t's  out  clear  and  sharp. 

Craig  responded  with  a  glance  of  approval  that  was  almost 
paternal,  and  turned  to  introduce  him  to  Kate,  but  she,  in  a  mood 
pf  feminine  perversity,  had  turned  her  back,  and  descended  on 
the  keys  before  her  with  two  swift  strong  hands  that  drowned 
his  voice  in  a  crescendo  of  taps. 

Craig  shook  his  head  over  his  lost  opportunity.  Kate  shook 
hers  later,  for  when  she  was  leaving  the  office  she  came  upon  him 
talking  to  the  Englishman  in  a  corner  of  the  corridor,  and  burrow- 
ing in  his  pockets  as  he  talked.  "  The  usual  way,"  she  mused 
bitterly.  "  The  English  have  always  made  the  Irish  pay  for  the 
unsought  privilege  of  their  society."  She  decided  then  that  Craig 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  an  adventurer,  and  she  would  make 
that  fact  plain  to  him  on  the  morrow.  But  the  following  morning 
was  filled  with  feverish  haste,  pressing  work,  and  the  confusing 
element  of  many  clients  coming  and  going  through  the  office. 
In  the  afternoon,  when  things  were  quieter,  an  incident  occurred 
which  changed  her  purpose  in  a  peculiar  way.  She  had  been  work- 
ing with  Craig  on  a  case  for  appeal,  and  Willett  had  been  con- 
tinually in  the  room ;  curiously,  however,  he  had  not  as  yet  addressed 
a  word  to  her,  although  he  seemed  sufficiently  sociable  to  Craig. 
After  a  time  Carney  called  him,  and  when  he  returned  he  summoned 
Kate  in  the  following  words,  "  Mr.  Carney  wishes  to  see  the  typist." 

Kate  blazed  a  look  at  him  which  swept  the  length  of  his  pitiful 
attire,  from  his  half-soiled  collar  to  his  cracked  boots,  but  his 
honest  innocence  saved  him  from  withering.  It  was  Craig  who 
reddened  and  looked  embarrassed,  and  it  was  Craig  who  became 
confused  in  his  effort  to  present  to  him  the  enviable  standing  of 
the  business  woman  in  America.  The  Englishman  in  turn  was 
pathetically  humble  in  his  apologies,  for  it  was  plain  to  one  of 
far  duller  perception  that  Craig  had  arrived  at  a  state  of  mind 
where  Kate's  approval  was  a  necessity  in  all  things  from  briefs 
to  button-hole  bouquets. 

They  both  looked  up  a  bit  nervously  as  that  young  lady  re- 


236  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  [May, 

turned  to  the  room.  But  one  glance  restored  content  where  it 
should  have  awakened  suspicion.  For  the  fact  that  a  nature  of 
uncommon  honesty  is  apt  to  descend  to  duplicity  under  the  strain  of 
sentimental  relations,  was  well  proved  by  the  expression  of  cheer- 
ful unconcern  with  which  Kate  covered  her  indignation.  For  the 
first  time  since  his  advent,  she  chose  to  be  sociable  toward  Willett. 
Indeed  she  became  quite  chatty,  and  led  him  to  describe  the 
splendor  of  the  English  courts,  while  she  sat  a  solemn  picture 
of  mocking  attention.  "  And  you  used  to  wear  a  gown,  too,  and 
have  your  papers  carried  to  court  for  you  in  a  green  bag?"  she 
asked  artlessly.  "  And  here's  Jimmie  who  often  carries  the  sacred 
things  in  his  pockets."  But  Jimmie  did  not  join  in  the  laugh. 
Somehow  he  did  not  enjoy  Kate  in  the  role  she  was  playing  of 
the  ignorant  little  typist;  besides  he  was  intensely  interested  in 
Willett.  He  found  himself  constantly  speculating  about  him. 
Why  had  he  left  England?  Why,  when  so  well-equipped  for 
success  in  a  profession,  was  he  here  a  penniless  stranger?  Delicacy 
forbade  inquiry,  but  from  his  few  irrelevant  remarks  Jimmie  got 
the  idea  Willett  had  already  tasted  success  and  prestige. 

England  became  the  topic  of  the  day ;  and  as  Willett  gradually 
progressed  from  impersonal  subjects  like  London,  cabs,  and  the 
English  elective  system  to  more  human  interests,  Desdemona  giv- 
ing ear  to  the  More  was  a  pattern  of  inattention  beside  Craig. 
"  If  he  says  '  when  I  was  at  Oxford  or  at  the  Temple,'  Jimmie  drops 
his  jaw  and  goes  into  a  trance,"  grumbled  Kate.  Her  imagination 
seldom  strayed  across  the  Irish  Channel.  What  mattered  Oxford 
to  one  who  was  studying  Gaelic,  and  who  could  fit  half  the  people 
of  her  parish  to  their  proper  Irish  counties?  What  mattered 
England  at  all  to  a  Desmond;  humble  though  the  relic  be  of  the 
proud  Geraldines  and  Earls  of  Desmond?  Such  romantic  attach- 
ments naturally  hindered  Kate  from  developing  complete  sympathy 
toward  a  shabby  English  lawyer;  and  she  was  therefore  wickedly 
pleased  when  the  Little  Corporal's  visit  revealed  Willett  in  a  new 
and  unpleasant  light  to  Craig.  This  happened  a  week  later,  and 
on  a  day  uncommonly  fair  for  Willett's  future. 

It  was  the  morning  after  a  free  and  independent  jury  had 
awarded  a  splendid  sum  of  money  to  Joseph  Carney's  client  in 
the  Brandon  suit,  and  accordingly  that  distinguished  and  successful 
lawyer  left  the  remote  and  exalted  region  back  of  the  ground  glass 
door,  and  came  forth  to  receive  the  congratulations  of  his  em- 
ployees. 


1913.]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  237 

With  hands  thrust  deep  in  his  pockets,  and  eyes  that  beamed 
through  his  gold-rimmed  glasses,  he  lounged  contentedly  against 
a  table  while  he  recalled  the  fine  points  he  had  made  in  examination 
or  summing  up.  The  light  of  his  countenance  was  reflected  in 
the  faces  around  him,  for  all  had  worked  uncommonly  hard,  and, 
besides,  Willett  and  Craig  had  assisted  in  court.  And  to  good 
purpose  too,  for  it  was  a  question  scribbled  eagerly  by  Willett, 
and  sent  to  the  old  man  at  a  crucial  moment,  which  ripped  open 
the  breach  and  sent  the  defense  to  a  disastrous  defeat.  After 
Carney  had  done  sufficient  honor  to  himself,  he  acknowledged 
this  benefit  quite  handsomely.  "  And  the  paper  you  sent  up  held 
a  charge  of  dynamite,  Willett.  I  half  believe  it  did  the  trick." 
Even  Kate  was  warmed  for  a  moment  by  the  glance  of  deep-eyed 
appreciation  which  accompanied  Willett's  words  of  acknowledg- 
ment. The  flush  which  spread  above  his  wide-set  eyes  dispelled  the 
look  of  caution  he  usually  wore,  and  for  this  moment  he  seemed 
boyish. 

Kate,  however,  was  not  the  sort  that  parted  weakly  with  a 
prejudice,  and  she  turned  with  a  feeling  of  relief  toward  the  little 
group  that  entered  the  door  just  then.  Carney's  fashionable 
daughter  and  small  son  were  but  a  step  in  front  of  the  oddest 
little  figure  in  the  forty-six  States  of  the  Union.  A  silk  hat  that 
had  grown  on  a  primeval  block,  and  an  old  frock  coat  attired 
a  little  wizened,  bright-eyed  man,  who  displayed  a  shining  row 
of  false  teeth  as  he  greeted  Carney. 

"  Good  morning,  counselor.  Rejoicing  you  are,  I  see,  at 
the  fine  lot  of  money  the  court  gave  you  yesterday." 

"  Rejoicing's  the  word,  Jerry  O',  and  good  cause  to  rejoice 
at  the  sight  of  yourself  coming  in  with  your  pocket  full  of  interest 
money."  The  little  old  man  laughed,  and  waved  a  deprecating 
hand  toward  the  Carney  family  as  they  retreated  toward  the  inner 
room.  He  then  seated  himself  beside  Kate,  who  had  been  appointed 
guardian  of  his  monthly  business.  He  removed  a  package  of 
receipted  bills  from  the  crown  of  his  old  hat,  and  a  bulging 
envelope  from  his  breast  pocket,  and  transferred  them  cautiously 
to  her  care.  The  social  part  of  his  visit  was  interrupted  by  the 
little  boy,  who  ran  rapturously  out  to  tell  Kate  that  his  mother 
had  permitted  him  to  stay  awhile,  and  could  he  "  play  "  on  her 
typewriter. 

Gathering  up  the  papers  as  the  old  man  left,  she  laid  them 
in  the  right-hand  drawer  of  her  table,  and  turned  a  smiling  face 


238  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  [May, 

toward  the  child.  The  Little  Corporal  he  was  called  in  recognition 
of  his  Napoleonic  face.  He  stood  now  a  picture  of  fair-haired 
grace  in  his  belted  suit  of  blue  cloth,  and  watched  Kate  as  she 
fed  the  typewriter  a  clean  sheet  of  paper,  and  placed  a  book  on 
the  seat  of  the  chair.  He  then  scrambled  up,  elated  at  the  chance 
to  try  this  new  and  wonderful  machine.  Craig  jibed  at  him  happily, 
as  he  gravely  and  timidly  tapped  the  keys  with  his  little  fingers; 
and  Kate  stood  about  and  waited  upon  him,  removing  the  paper 
for  examination  every  time  he  requested  it.  But  he  ignored  them 
both  when  the  "  letter  "  he  was  writing  was  finished.  Wriggling 
off  the  chair  he  took  it  straight  to  Willett,  who  had  paid  not 
the  slightest  attention  to  his  presence.  With  the  sweet  fearlessness 
of  a  child  who  has  known  naught  but  smiles,  he  stationed  himself 
between  the  stranger's  knees  and  chattered  about  the  "  letter." 
It  was  to  his  father  who  had  gone  to  "  Noo  Ork,"  and  it  was 
about  "  the  wat  they  hatched'  in  their  wat  trap."  "  Let  me  up," 
he  demanded,  "  and  I'll  read  it  to  you,"  and  forthwith  attempted 
to  climb  on  Willett's  knee.  "  Dear  daddy,"  he  commenced,  when 
a  rude  hand  thrust  him  down,  and  Willett  stood  up  with  wild 
eyes  and  ashen  face.  He  stood  for  a  moment  hesitating,  then 
quickly  seized  his  hat  and  left  the  room. 

"  The  man  is  crazy,"  stammered  Craig,  standing  up  by  his 
chair  from  sheer  force  of  reflected  excitement.  But  Kate  did  not 
answer;  the  pain-filled  eyes  and  trembling  lip  of  the  little  boy 
engrossed  her  attention.  She  proved  the  worth  of  her  sympathy 
by  not  showing  it,  but  instead  said  the  cheering  word  that  pre- 
vented the  flood  of  tears  he  was  trying  to  withstand.  "  I  believe 
you  scared  that  man,  Corporal.  Did  you  see  him  run  away?" 
The  gaiety  of  her  tone  was  contagious.  But  a  moment  the  little 
fellow  hesitated  between  sunshine  and  rain,  and  then  his  baby 
laugh  rang  out.  "  I  chased  him,"  he  boasted,  and  returned  to 
Kate,  who  reseated  him  at  the  typewriter  before  she  even  looked 
at  Craig. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  "  ejaculated  that  astonished 
individual. 

"  What's  the  use  of  trying  to  think  about  it,"  she  answered 
with  irritating  calmness.  "  If  we  are  going  to  take  in  common 
vagrants,  we  ought  to  expect  surprises  and  mysteries  too." 

"  A  common  vagrant,"  repeated  Craig  with  hostile  emphasis. 
"  Anyone  can  see  that  the  man  is  a  gentleman." 

Kate's   approval  was   necessary   for   Craig's   happiness   it   is 


1913.]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  239 

true,  but  it  is  also  true  that  he  was  not  the  grasping  sort  that 
demanded  happiness  at  all  times. 

Joseph  Carney  at  this  point  interrupted,  what  promised  to  be 
a  spirited  quarrel,  by  appearing  and  carrying  off  his  small  grand- 
child to  luncheon.  A  moment  later  Willett  returned.  He  ap- 
peared quite  restored  to  his  usual  good  humor  by  his  absence, 
and  tactfully  began  to  discuss  the  wonders  of  their  great  country. 
"  Fancy,"  he  began,  "  a  country  where  carpets  are  laid  in  a  laboring 
man's  cottage!  I  was  in  such  a  one  yesterday,  and  I  can't  get 
over  it."  Craig  answered  him  pleasantly  enough,  but  what  he  said 
was  of  no  importance,  in  fact  nothing  anybody  said  was  of  the 
least  importance,  until  Kate  discovered  that  Jerry  O's  money  was 
gone.  And  then  she  did  not  say  anything.  No,  indeed,  she  was 
too  breathless  in  her  effort  to  find  the  precious  envelope.  She 
tore  the  contents  of  her  desk  apart,  hysterically  at  first,  and  then 
calming  down  by  sheer  force  of  will,  she  went  over  the  contents 
with  deliberate  leisure.  She  made  several  trips  to  the  safe  besides, 
and  pulled  apart  boxes  she  had  not  been  near  in  weeks,  before 
Craig  noticed  that  something  had  gone  wrong. 

"Are  you  exercising  for  health  or  recreation?"  he  asked 
dryly,  as  Kate  made  her  third  dash  for  the  safe ;  but  the  smile  died 
on  his  face  as  he  encountered  her  wild  eyes. 

"  Jerry  O's  money  is  gone,"  she  gasped.  Craig  stared  and 
Willett  swung  around  in  his  chair.  Silence  reigned  for  the  space 
of  a  moment,  and  then  Willett  begged  with  trembling  eagerness, 
"  You  look  for  it,  Craig.  She  has  lost  her  head." 

I  do  not  know  whether  to  blame  the  irritation  of  the  moment, 

or  to  go  deeper  and  blame  the  centuries  of  oppression  her  people 

had    endured    from    his,    for    Kate's    hard    words    that    follow: 

( 'Twould  do  better  for  you  to  look,  Mr.  Willett.     Suppose  you 

begin  at  your  breast  pocket,"  she  said. 

The  hot  blood  surged  through  his  face  as  he  grasped  the 
arms  of  his  chair,  and  partly  rose.  Then  he  settled  back  again, 
pallid  and  spent.  He  still  grasped  the  chair  with  tight  fingers, 
but  the  blazing  light  of  challenge  had  died  out  of  his  eyes  when 
he  again  stood  up. 

"  I'll  do  better.  I'll  let  you  look,  Miss  Desmond,"  he  said 
almost  amiably.  Then  when  he  saw  her  turn  away,  he  pulled  his 
pockets  inside  out  and  spoke  to  Craig.  "  If  I'm  suspected  I  can't 
afford  to  stay.  I'm  a  stranger  and  penniless,  and  the  best  way 
is  to  be  off  again." 


240  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  [May, 

Before  Craig  could  finds  words  to  reply  he  was  at  the  door. 
"  There'll  be  snow  to  shovel  to-morrow,"  he  announced  bitterly 
as  he  passed  out. 

Craig  and  Kate  stood  looking  intently  at  the  door  long  after 
it  shut.  And  many  weary  hours  they  were  destined  to  spend 
looking  at  that  door  in  the  future,  for  the  money  was  found  in  the 
morning,  but  Willett  did  not  come  back.  Joseph  Carney  returned 
it  with  the  blandest  of  smiles.  His  daughter  had  found  it  in 
the  Little  Corporal's  breeches  pocket  when  she  put  him  to  bed. 
"  The  little  rascal  needed  an  envelope  for  his  daddy's  letter,  and 
he  took  a  good  one,"  he  explained  with  a  proud  chuckle. 

But  Kate  did  not  chuckle.  She  turned  her  humiliated  face 
toward  Craig.  "  You  have  his  address,  haven't  you,  Jimmie  ?  " 
she  asked  gravely. 

"  No,  I  haven't  his  address." 

"  You  haven't?  "  she  echoed,  "  then  how  will  we  find  him?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Craig  sadly.  "  I  don't  suppose  we  can 
find  him,  and  its  inhuman  weather  too." 

Kate  turned  gloomy  eyes  toward  the  street,  where  the  people 
cowered  under  the  double  lash  of  an  icy  wind  and  snow.  The 
sight  stirred  her  to  action.  She  must  find  him.  She  had  driven 
him  out  and  branded  him  a  thief,  and  it  was  her  most  pressing  duty 
to  bring  him  back.  At  noon  she  inserted  an  advertisement  in  the 
evening  paper,  and  on  the  morn  she  watched  the  office  door  with 
dog-like  intentness.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  weather  was  never 
so  dreary,  the  winds  more  bitingly  cold  than  in  the  days  that 
followed  Willett's  departure. 

Day  after  day  she  watched  the  door  open  and  shut,  but 
the  shabby  young  man  with  the  blue,  bevel-looking  eyes  did  not 
come  back.  Then  she  began  to  call  the  rescue  missions  on  the 
telephone,  and  to  leave  a  graphic  description  of  Willett  with 
them;  to  take  her  noontime  walk  in  different  unlovely  sections 
of  the  city  where  signs  of  "  rooms  to  let "  spotted  the  windows ;  to 
increase  daily  her  zeal  in  the  effort  to  undo  the  wrong  she  had 
done.  At  this  time  the  sight  of  piled-up  food  in  restaurant  win- 
dows gave  her  a  sickening  sense  of  guilt,  and  the  touch  of  warm 
blankets  on  her  own  bed  filled  her  with  self-loathing. 

The  rush  of  work  being  disposed  of,  Joseph  Carney  had 
lost  interest  in  the  recovery  of  his  clever  clerk,  and  was  placidly 
existing  without  him;  Craig  had  accepted  the  inevitable,  and  had 
become  a  mere  agent  in  the  execution  of  Kate's  orders.  She  alone 


1913.]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  241 

persevered  in  the  effort  to  find  Willett  in  those  last  wretched 
days  of  February.  The  earth  was  still  fast  in  the  grip  of  a  winter 
famous  for  its  bitterness,  when  one  day  she  stood  at  the  office 
window  looking  down  at  the  opposite  sidewalk.  Its  outer  edge 
was  piled  waist  high  with  a  bank  of  snow,  upon  which  the  icy 
sleet  was  falling.  A  gang  of  laborers  with  picks  and  shovels 
came  around  the  corner  and  fell  to  work.  A  small  wiry  man 
with  yellow  hair  attracted  Kate's  attentive  sight,  and  she  called 
Jimmie,  with  a  little  tremble  of  anxiety  in  her  voice. 

"  He  wouldn't  have  the  good  luck  to  be  among  those  fellows," 
explained  Craig.  "  They  belong  to  the  Department  of  Public 
Works,  and  draw  a  steady  salary."  But  he  waited  until  he  could 
get  a  look  at  the  man  in  question,  who  turned  out  to  be  a  hard- 
handed  young  Swede. 

"  Don't  worry  about  him,  Kate,"  he  consoled  her,  "  there 
was  something  bad  in  his  life  or  he  would  not  be  adrift.  Anyway 
he  can  blame  his  own  rudeness  to  the  Little  Corporal  for  his 
trouble  here.  You  had  a  good  reason  to  dislike  him." 

"  No,  Jimmie,  my  cheap  grade  of  patriotism  is  to  blame. 
From  the  first  I  hated  the  idea  of  your  taking  in  an  Englishman. 
I  kept  asking  myself  what  chance  a  penniless  young  Irishman  with 
shabby  clothes  and  a  Dublin  brogue  would  have  in  a  London  law 
office,  and  I  thought  I  knew  the  answer.  As  if  it  mattered  what 
the  answer  is!  As  if  the  Irish  ever  learned  their  manners  out 
of  English  books!  As  if  they  were  ever  more  Irish  than  when 
they  held  out  hands  to  some  poor  defeated  vagabond!  Sure  any 
weak-kneed  idiot  can  be  kind  to  the  prosperous."  Kate  finished 
with  a  gesture  toward  her  eyes,  and  Jimmie  sat  down  in  front  of 
his  calf-skin  book  with  a  distressed  expression. 

Life  in  the  office  had  become  as  gray  and  drear  as  the  wretched 
streets  outside.  Time  was  when  the  hours  spent  there  were  too 
few.  When  the  conflicts  waged  in  court  were  full  of  spirit. 
When  the  arriving  client  was  delightfully  absurd,  and  the  depart- 
ing left  smiles  and  chuckles  bubbling  in  his  wake.  But  ten  more 
such  dismal  days  passed,  and  then  in  an  hour  of  hopeless  inactivity 
the  spell  was  broken.  The  telephone  emitted  a  halting  call,  and 
Kate  reached  for  the  receiver.  "  It's  for  Lawyer  Craig,"  she  said 
with  a  little  mocking  grimace.  The  message  was  one  which  often 
comes  into  a  law  office,  and  Craig  reported  it  to  Kate  quite  dis- 
interestedly. A  sick  man  at  the  corner  of  Water  and  Elm  Streets 
wanted  him  in  a  hurry.  But  Kate  was  not  disinterested. 

VOL.  xcvii. — 16. 


242  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  [May, 

"  Do  you   suppose,"   she   asked   quickly,    "  that   it  might  be  his 
Lordship?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  suppose  so.  I  suppose  it's  some  sick  sailor  who 
wants  to  make  his  will,"  he  replied  impatiently  as  he  started  out. 

He  had  trouble  in  finding  the  house,  which  was  in  the  dis- 
orderly region  of  the  harbor;  a  place  full  of  saloons  and  sailor's 
lodgings.  It  was,  as  he  thought,  a  sailor  who  had  called  him, 
but  not  for  himself.  No,  he  had  called  him  for  Willett;  for 
Willett,  desperately  ill  and  tossing  in  partial  delirium  on  the 
nasty  little  lodging  house  bed.  The  discovery  stupefied  Craig  for 
a  moment,  and  then  slowly  he  reached  the  conclusion  that  he  must 
get  him  out  of  this  miserable  place  at  once.  He  hurried  out  to 
call  one  of  the  hospitals,  and  order  its  ambulance.  This  seemed 
the  most  practical  thing  to  do  for  a  friendless  stranger,  and  would 
have  relieved  the  situation  simply  and  at  once  if  he  had  not 
encountered  Kate  Desmond  as  he  stepped  outside  the  door. 

"  I  just  couldn't  wait  till  you  got  back,"  she  explained. 

"  It's  Willett  all  right,"  said  he,  "  but  the  sickest  man  you 
ever  saw.  I'm  going  to  call  the  ambulance,  and  get  him  into 
a  hospital  if  I  can." 

"  A  hospital !  "  ejaculated  Kate  with  horrified  eyes.  "  O  don't 
send  him  to  a  hospital,  Jimmie." 

"Then  where  shall  I  send  him?"  asked  Craig. 

The  directness  of  the  question  disconcerted  her  for  a  mere 
moment.  "  Send  him  to  our  house.  He'll  die  if  he  goes  to  a 
hospital." 

Craig  protested,  and  for  several  minutes  they  wrangled  stub- 
bornly, but  in  the  end  he  called  a  carriage  instead  of  an  ambulance. 
And  that  was  why  the  scene  of  Willett's  battle  with  death  was 
Kate's  own  square  little  room  instead  of  the  long  hospital  ward. 

There  was  a  moment  of  uncertainty  when  they  faced  Kate's 
bewildered  mother.  But  that  capable  young  woman  cleared  the 
situation  speedily.  She  explained  that  her  charge  was  "  one  of  Car- 
ney's clerks,"  which  opened  up  a  channel  of  deep  and  friendly 
concern;  that  she  wanted  to  save  him  from  the  dreaded  hospital 
was  perfectly  reasonable  to  the  mother,  who  shared  Kate's  opinion 
of  such  institutions.  With  surprising  readiness  she  hurried  to 
make  ready  the  sick  man's  room.  They  carried  him  in,  the  driver 
and  Craig,  and  laid  him  in  a  state  of  moaning  stupor  on  the 
cool  white  bed. 

"  In  heaven's  name  who  is  he  ?  "     It  was  the  mother  who 


1913.]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  243 

spoke,  and  Craig  giving  a  lingering  look  at  the  features,  which 
were  handsome  in  spite  of  the  feverish  flush,  and  at  the  coat 
now  horribly  soiled  and  tattered,  answered,  "  I  wonder,"  as  he 
tiptoed  from  the  room. 

And  he  found  yet  more  reason  to  wonder.  For  Kate  arriving 
late  at  the  office  in  the  morning  was  a  far  different  person  than 
the  dispirited  being  he  had  known  for  weeks.  She  was  filled  with 
solicitude  and  generous  concern;  her  eyes  shone  and  her  face 
glowed  with  a  new  warmth.  "  Willett  had  a  fighting  chance," 
the  doctor  said.  "  Horribly  sick  of  course,  but  he  was  young,  and 
his  heart  was  all  right.  And  they  had  been  able  to  get  such  a 
splendid  nurse;  one  who  had  been  taking  care  of  pneumonia  all 
winter." 

Jimmie  appeared  mildly  interested.  There  was  something 
disquieting,  if  not  quite  uncomfortable,  in  the  thought  of  Willett 
in  Kate's  home.  Her  pity  was  so  fully  and  so  frequently  expressed ; 
and  pity  he  well  knew  often  developed  into  a  thing  dearer  and 
more  dangerous.  She  noticed  his  lack  of  concern,  and  gave  him  a 
quizzical  glance  as  she  drew  his  attention  to  a  packet  of  letters 
she  was  putting  away.  "  The  doctor  took  them  from  Willett's 
pocket.  He  said  I  might  find  an  address  to  let  his  people  know 
if  anything  should  happen."  The  quizzical  expression  deepened 
into  a  look  of  apprehension  a  moment  later.  She  recalled  Craig's 
former  friendly  interest  in  Willett,  his  satisfaction  in  the  success 
he  had  made  of  Carney's  work,  and  her  spirits  succumbed  to 
a  fit  of  profound  depression.  Jimmie  realized  how  wicked  she 
had  been;  how  cruel;  and  his  approval  had  turned  to  dislike. 
It  was  this  conclusion  that  first  caused  the  wall  of  gloomy  reserve 
which  daily  increased  between  them.  Conversation  languished. 
To  Craig's  inquiries  for  Willett's  condition  she  gave  curt  answers. 
"  He  was  barely  holding  his  own.  There  was  danger  of  further 
complications.  He  did  not  respond  to  the  treatment  as  they  had 
hoped.  They  were  having  a  consultation.  No,  he  could  do  nothing 
to  help."  The  days  crept  by  like  so  many  dirt-hued  snails;  and 
the  time  of  the  crisis  for  Willett  at  last  arrived. 

That  wretched  day  Kate  spent  quite  alone  trying  nervously 
to  get  a  scrap  or  two  of  information  through  the  telephone.  Craig 
was  out  subpoenaing  witnesses  in  a  distant  section  of  the  city,  and 
when  he  came  back  at  three  o'clock  he  was  startled  to  find  her 
dressed  for  the  street.  Her  eyes  were  red  from  weeping,  and  her 
manner  plainly  excited.  She  had  been  sent  for,  she  explained, 


244  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  [May, 

and  in  reply  Craig  struggled  to  express  sympathy.  For  a  moment 
jealousy  was  strangled  by  love;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment, 
for  Kate's  few  words,  as  she  picked  up  her  purse  with  a  trembling 
hand,  restored  the  fiend  to  power.  "  Jimmy,"  she  said,  "pray 
that  he  doesn't  die." 

Craig  did  not  reply,  but  opened  the  door  for  her  with  studied 
politeness,  and  she  passed  out.  "  Gone  "  was  the  one  word  he 
said  as  he  closed  it.  He  turned  away  overcome  by  discouragement 
and  distaste.  The  sight  had  been  too  much  for  him.  Kate  the 
dependable,  the  practical,  the  direct,  lovesick  and  hysterical  over 
a  vagabond  she  knew  nothing  about.  "  Gone  "  he  again  snorted, 
and  kicked  a  book  that  had  fallen  to  the  floor.  Carney  calling 
him  in  to  consult  him  could  get  no  good  of  him,  and  was  not  slow 
to  say  so.  He  went  home  to  eat  no  dinner,  to  toss  sleeplessly 
about  during  most  of  the  night,  and  then  to  over-sleep  and  be 
late  in  getting  to  work  in  the  morning.  When  he  reached  the 
office  door  he  stood  a  moment  with  his  hand  on  the  knob,  the 
thought  of  seeing  Kate  again  gave  him  a  sickening  sense  of  dread. 
That  she  would  be  unable  to  get  away  from  home  reassured  him, 
and  he  pushed  open  the  door. 

But  Kate  was  there.  She  sat  near  the  window  where  a 
virile  young  sunbeam  warmed  the  piled-up  masses  of  her  hair.  A 
dress  he  had  never  before  seen  of  a  rich  dark-blue  drew  out  the 
warm  tints  of  her  face,  and  deepened  the  color  of  her  eyes.  She 
summoned  him  in  her  familiar  tone  of  calm  authority.  "  Come 
here.  I've  been  waiting  ages  for  you,"  she  said.  As  he  approached 
her  she  extended  a  shapely  hand  toward  him,  and  her  face  wore 
the  expression  of  smiling  candor  that  belonged  to  the  long  ago. 

He  smiled  weakly  as  he  asked,  "  What  is  it  all  about,  please?  " 

"  It's  about  me.  I'm  not  a  murderer,  Jimmie,"  she  announced 
solemnly.  "  Willett  is  going  to  recover.  And,  Jimmie,"  she  con- 
tinued eagerly,  "  I  know  why  he  was  so  'rude1  to  the  Little  Cor- 
poral? "  With  a  swift  movement  of  her  hand  she  laid  two  papers 
on  the  table,  one  below  the  other.  The  first  was  a  card  lined  off 
in  little  squares,  and  marked  in  tens  and  nines.  It  took  but  an 
instant  for  Craig  to  recognize  a  former  companion.  It  was  a 
scholar's  report  card,  and  below  it  lay  a  letter  in  the  large  round 
handwriting  of  a  little  child.  It  was  dated  three  months  back, 
and  from  one  of  the  smaller  cities  in  England.  Craig's  eyes  grasped 
but  two  words  of  the  message.  They  were,  "  Dear  daddy."  And 
then  in  surprise  too  great  for  words  he  turned  to  Kate.  She 


1913-]  GREEN  BAGS  AND  GREEN  RIBBONS  245 

returned  his  astounded  stare  with  a  placid  smile.  "  From  his  own 
little  boy,"  she  said. 

"  I  thought  he  was  dying  yesterday,  and  I  opened  the  packet 
of  letters  while  you  were  away.  Of  course,  I  didn't  read  them, 
but  in  looking  for  a  complete  address  I  came  across  one  from  his 
wife,  and,  Jimmie,  I  could  not  help  but  see  that  she  is  still  proud 
of  him.  And  to  think  that  he  might  have  died !  "  Kate  struggled 
with  emotion  and  Craig  succumbed  to  it.  His  voice  sounded 
strange  and  tremulous  as  he  said  pleadingly,  "  I'd  like  to  take  your 
hand  again,  Katherine."  She  gave  it  to  him  readily,  but  tried 
speedily  to  withdraw  it  when  she  felt  his  left  arm  about  her 
shoulders.  She  threw  her  hand  protestingly  against  the  breast 
of  his  overcoat,  and  as  she  did  so  she  noticed  the  knot  of  green 
ribbon  with  which  it  was  adorned.  "  What  are  you  wearing  this 
for  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  voice  almost  childish  in  its  frank  astonishment. 
Jimmie  distracted  for  a  moment  lost  his  hold,  and  Kate  escaped. 
When  he  turned  to  look  he  found  her  struggling  into  her  coat. 

"  To  think  I  forgot  it,  I  was  so  taken  up  with  the  English," 
she  grumbled. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  demanded  Craig. 

"  To  church,"  she  asserted  boldly.  "  And  if  Carney  needs 
me  tell  him  to  look  for  me  at  the  cathedral.  I'll  be  singing  'St. 
Patrick's  Day'  with  the  choir." 

Craig  picked  up  the  little  report  card,  and  sinking  to  his  chair 
examined  it  with  a  whimsical  smile. 

"  And  he's  every  bit  as  smart  as  his  daddy,"  he  said. 


flew  Boohs. 

THE  SACRED  SHRINE.     A  Study  of  the  Poetry  and  Art  of 
the  Catholic  Church.     By  Yrjo  Him,  Professor  of  ^Esthetic 
and  Modern  Literature  at  the  University  of  Finland,  Helsing- 
fors.     New  York:   The  Macmillan  Co.     $5.00. 
The  Sacred  Shrine  is  a  rigidly  impartial  examination  of  Catho- 
lic art  and  ceremonial  by  a  non-Catholic  professor,  with  a  view 
to  ascertaining  "  the  state  of  mind  which,  unaltered  in  its  main 
features,  has  laid  the  foundation  of  the  aesthetic  life  of  believing 
Catholics." 

Modern  art,  he  tells  us,  is  mainly  non-religious;  primitive  art, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  almost  wholly  religious;  but  Catholic  art 
is  a  something  between  the  two,  "  a  middle  age  which  has  survived 
into  the  twentieth  century,"  which  avoids  alike  the  bald  intellectual- 
ism  of  the  puritan  religions  and  the  animistic  materialism  of  those 
religions  which  were  earlier  and  more  primitive.  "  The  Catholic," 
he  says,  "  is  a  form  of  religion  which  unites  in  itself  elements  from 
the  lowest  and  highest  forms  of  belief."  The  charge  of  materialism 
advanced  against  it  by  Protestants,  he  thinks  invalid,  for  it  is  a  fact 
"  that  the  material  and  visible  comprises  only  one  side  of  a  Catholic 
ceremony.  However  closely  this  religion  may  connect  itself  with 
what  is  earthly,  yet  it  does  not  become  absorbed  in  the  phenomena 
of  sense.  The  divine  is  not  subjected,  as  is  the  case  to  a  certain 
extent  among  savage  peoples,  to  being  jumbled  together  with  the 
natural;  on  the  contrary,  the  transcendence  of  the  Supreme  Being 
is  insisted  upon  in  the  Catholic  dogmas  as  emphatically  as  in  the 
most  intellectualistic  of  the  Protestant  confessions."  It  is  by 
the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  he  tells  us,  that  the  Catholic  cult 
achieves  its  characteristic  quality ;  "  and  it  is  by  reason  of  the  same 
doctrine  that  Catholic  art  is  more  aesthetic  than  Protestant  art, 
and  more  religious  than  heathen  art." 

Many  reasons,  he  adds,  could  be  given  to  account  for  the 
popularity  of  the  Church  with  people  of  aesthetic  temperament, 
but  the  most  weighty  of  all  he  considers  the  fact 

*  that  the  Catholic  Church,  through  its  ceremonies,  connects  itself 
•so  nearly  with  the  existence  of  its  individual  members.  Every 
event  in  their  lives  is  distinguished  and  sanctified  by  a  special 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  247 

sacrament.  The  believer  feels  bound  to  the  Church,  and  in  all 
his  troubles  is  aware  of  the  support  of  its  authority.  The  fact 
that  the  ceremonies  thus  push  their  way  into  life — with  Baptism 
in  the  Church,  public  Confirmation,  Marriage,  Confession  and 
Absolution,  Extreme  Unction  and  Communion  on  the  deathbed 
— must  naturally  give  rich  nourishment  to  the  religious-aesthetic 

feelings One   can   assert   quite   literally   that    for   pious 

Catholics  the  whole  of  life  takes  the  form  of  an  external 
visible  service  of  God. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  lies  at  the  centre  of  all  Catho- 
lic worship  and  veneration.  The  author,  clearly  grasping  this  truth, 
divides  his  book  into  two  parts,  which  deal  respectively  with  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Altar  and  the  Divine  Motherhood  of  our  Blessed 
Lady.  In  the  first  part,  the  Real  Presence  and  all  its  artistic  impli- 
cations are  treated  of  in  so  far  as  they  are  expressed  by  the  archi- 
tecture, the  decorative  art,  and  the  ceremonial  which  surround  the 
service  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament — the  central  fact,  the  intellectual 
and  emotional  stimulus  being  the  Host,  "  that  little  material  object  " 
in  which  "  pious  people  see  with  the  eyes  of  faith  the  greatest 
and  loftiest  thing  that  their  minds  can  grasp,  He,  'for  Whom 
the  whole  world  was  too  narrow/  shows  Himself  to  them  in  a 
limited  and  tangible  shape.  The  fact  that  the  sensuous  vision  could 
thus  embrace  a  small  impression,  sustaining  the  richest  and  widest 
association  of  ideas,  and  serving  as  a  meeting  point  for  the  deepest 
feelings,  could  not  fail  to  influence  powerfully  both  intellectual 
and  emotional  life." 

In  the  first  nine  chapters  we  have  a  very  full  and  scholarly 
treatment  of  the  Altar,  Relics,  the  Reliquary,  the  Mass,  Altar  Fur- 
niture, the  Host,  the  Monstrance,  and  the  Tabernacle,  with  the 
whole  history  of  their  aesthetic  use  and  development.  In  the  twelve 
chapters  following  we  have  a  very  careful  study  of  the  growth, 
both  artistic  and  dogmatic,  of  devotion  to  our  Lady  under  the 
following  headings:  The  Dogma  of  Mary,  The  Gospel  of  Mary, 
The  Conception,  Her  Childhood,  Annunciation,  The  Incarnation, 
The  Visitation,  The  Virginal  Birth,  The  Manger,  The  Sorrowing 
Mother,  Mary's  Death  and  Assumption,  and  The  Symbols  of  Mary. 
A  chapter  entitled  The  Sacred  Shrine  then  concludes  the  book. 

In  this  second  part  of  the  book,  which  treats  of  our  Lady,  we 
cannot  expect  to  find  the  phraseology  altogether  pleasant  to  Catholic 
ears,  but  in  spite  of  this  the  author  has  clearly  grasped  the  Catholic 
point  of  view,  and  has  profoundly  mastered  all  that  the  best  theo- 


248  NEW  BOOKS  [May, 

logians  and  historians  could  tell  him  about  it.  The  logical  neces- 
sity of  such  a  devotion  is  admitted,  and  we  are  inclined  to  believe 
that  no  better  book  could  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  anyone  brought 
up  in  an  atmosphere  of  anti-Catholic  prejudice.  The  mysteries 
of  Faith  cannot  be  comprehended  by  unassisted  reason,  but  the 
unreasonable  prejudices  with  which  they  are  so  often  surrounded 
are  best  cleared  away  by  cold  logic;  and  all  those  who,  like  the 
present  author,  are  doing  such  a  good  work  are  clearing  away  the 
mists  of  prejudice,  sending  broadcast  some  rays  of  truth,  and  they 
will  have  their  reward. 

OUR  LADY  IN  THE   CHURCH,  AND  OTHER  ESSAYS.     By 

M.  Nesbitt.     New  York:  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.     $1.50  net. 

This  book  is  a  collection  of  essays  on  religious  subjects  which 
have  already  appeared  in  the  Ave  Maria.  As  the  Right  Reverend 
Dr.  Casartelli  states  in  the  preface,  the  author  has  selected  "  topics 
of  historical  and  antiquarian  character  connected  with  the  life  and 
work  of  the  Church,  and,  therefore,  of  particular  interest  to  Catho- 
lic readers." 

The  book  is  divided  into  three  parts  as  follows:  Part  I., 
Our  Lady  and  Some  Saints;  Part  II.,  Feasts  of  the  Church;  Part 
III.,  Miscellaneous. 

The  style  of  these  essays  has  been  characterized  as  "  chatty 
and  instructive."  The  author  makes  frequent  references  to  pious 
customs  which  obtained  in  Catholic  countries  during  the  Ages  of 
Faith,  when  all,  both  gentle  and  simple,  lived  a  life  of  almost  con- 
tinual prayer  and  uninterrupted  union  with  God.  In  every  diffi- 
culty recourse  was  had  to  Almighty  God  and  our  Blessed  Lady, 
and  there  were  prayers  even  for  such  small  ailments  as  toothache 
and  slight  burns. 

In  the  years  when  England  bore  the  glorious  title  of  "  The 
Dowry  of  Mary,"  the  land  was  dotted  with  chapels  dedicated  to 
our  Blessed  Lady,  and  our  author  gives  many  interesting  accounts 
of  these  beautiful  shrines.  Amongst  others,  mention  is  made  of 
a  celebrated  chapel  of  our  Lady  in  Norwich,  which,  in  1272,  was 
miraculously  preserved  from  fire,  although  the  cathedral  church  in 
which  it  was  built  was  entirely  destroyed  by  flames. 

Lovers  of  St.  Anthony  of  Padua — and  is  not  their  name 
"legiqn?" — will  find  chapter  nine  exceedingly  interesting.  Here 
Miss  Nesbitt  describes  briefly  St.  Anthony's  renunciation  of  the 
world;  his  ordination  to  the  Priesthood,  and  his  ardent  desire  of 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  249 

suffering  a  martyr's  death  for  the  love  of  Christ  our  Lord.  As 
time  went  on  St.  Anthony  found  himself  called  to  lead  a  yet  more 
perfect  life;  he,  therefore,  entered  the  Order  of  the  Friars  Minor, 
and,  as  an  eloquent  preacher  and  enlightened  director,  rendered 
signal  services  to  the  cause  of  holy  Church.  Even  during  his 
lifetime,  St.  Anthony  worked  numerous  miracles,  and  as  thousands 
of  grateful  clients  testify,  similar  marvels  are  still  obtained  through 
his  intercession  before  the  Throne  of  God.  Such  was  St.  Anthony's 
sanctity  and  purity  that  he  merited  to  receive  the  visits  of  the 
Sweet  Infant  Jesus,  and  Catholic  art  loves  to  represent  him  clad 
in  the  brown  habit  and  clasping  the  Divine  Child.  Miss  Nesbitt 
truly  says,  "  We  turn  to  it  (his  statue)  as  we  turn  to  the  well-known 
form  of  a  cherished  friend." 

Other  Saints  mentioned  are  St.  Columban ;  St.  Edmund,  King ; 
St.  Edmund,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury;  St.  Leonard  of  Port 
Maurice;  and  the  great  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 

To  conclude,  we  echo  the  words  of  Right  Reverend  Dr. 

Casartelli :  "  I  feel  sure  that  these interesting  essays  will  be 

read  with  pleasure  and  profit I  should  say  that  Miss  Nesbitt's 

book  would  make  a  specially  appropriate  volume  for  school  libraries 
and  school  prizes." 

LANCES  HURLED  AT  THE  SUN.     By  Rev.  James  H.  Cotter, 

LL.D.    Buffalo :  The  Buffalo  Catholic  Publication  Co.    $1.00. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  James  H.  Cotter,  known  as  the  author 

of  Shakespeare's  Art,  and  as  the  very  able  editorial  writer  for 

the  Catholic  Union  and  Times  of  Buffalo,  New  York,  has  selected 

a  number  of  those  editorials  and  woven  them  together  into  a  volume 

of  essays.     He  chooses  for  them  the  title  Lances  Hurled  at  the  Sun, 

a  Tennysonian  quotation  to  be  interpreted,  of  course,  as  attacks, 

theoretical  or  practical,  upon  the  Catholic  Church. 

In  resisting  such  attacks,  and  in  turning  them  back  upon  them- 
selves, Dr.  Cotter  displays  always  a  masterly  use  of  argument, 
an  unfailing  clarity,  and  a  wit  that  is  sometimes  genial,  but  more 
often  turns  to  brilliant  and  stinging  sarcasm.  Socialism,  Modern- 
ism, the  system  of  secular  university  education,  infidelity  in  France 
— these  are  among  the  lances  he  teaches  us  to  dodge  and  to  hurl 
back.  To  railing  and  to  illogical  abuse  he  never  descends,  but 
ridicule  he  uses  cleverly  and  pitilessly.  "  It  is  to  smile "  when 
he  calls  the  Boston  Transcript,  hitherto  sacred  to  contradiction,  the 
"Delphian  Oracle  of  Bostonese  logic;"  and  again  when  he 


250  NEW  BOOKS  [May, 

refers  to  the  learned  editor  of  one  of  our  best  magazines  of  secular 
culture  as  "  a  big,  generous  fellow  who,  in  his  love  for  the 
religious  life,  would  annihilate  such  a  nothing  as  belief." 

It  is  difficult  to  particularize  among  essays  so  uniformly  bril- 
liant, but  those  dealing  with  Socialism  and  Modernism  will  prob- 
ably attract  attention  most  promptly.  Dr.  Cotter's  arguments 
against  socialistic  theories  are  forceful  and  well  presented.  Our 
criticism  takes  the  form  of  a  regret  that  he  has  given  so  few  pages 
to  the  subject.  His  thought  simply  aims  at  being  destructive  of 
Socialism;  he  presents  no  constructive  argument.  He  might  profit- 
ably have  offered  some  statements  of  the  Church's  attitude  on 
economic  questions,  as  incorporating  the  best  ideals,  while  con- 
demning the  false  notions  and  the  methods  of  the  Socialist  Party. 
In  treating  of  Modernism,  Dr.  Cotter  is  wonderfully  lucid  and 
definite  for  so  difficult  a  theme.  Two  of  the  essays  are  particularly 
fine — one  which  gently  but  firmly  robs  the  Modernists  of  their 
claim  to  any  originality,  thus  again  emphasizing  the  absurdity 
of  their  chosen  name,  and  recalling  Mr.  Chesterton's  dictum  that 
he  would  just  as  soon  be  called  a  "  Thursdayite ;"  and  another 
which  disposes  very  definitely  of  the  oft-repeated  statement  that 
Newman  was  a  Modernist. 

The  volume  includes  a  preface  by  Rt.  Rev.  Charles  H. 
Col  ton,  Bishop  of  Buffalo,  who  hopes  that  it  will  "find  many 
readers  to  profit  by  its  contents." 

COLUMBANUS  THE  CELT.     By  Walter  T.  Leahy.     Philadel- 
phia:  H.  L.  Kilner  &  Co.     $1.50. 

Saint  Columbanus,  the  great  Irish  abbot  and  missionary 
preacher  of  the  sixth  century,  is  not  so  distinctly  and  proudly 
remembered  as  he  should  be  by  the  present-day  members  of  his 
Faith  and  nationality. 

One  of  that  noble  band  of  apostles  inspired  by  the  life  and 
labor  of  Saint  Patrick,  Columbanus  was  sent  from  the  monastery 
of  Bangor  on  foreign  missions,  first  in  Wales  and  Britain,  and 
later  on  the  continent.  His  was  a  life  of  adventure,  of  heroism, 
and  of  sanctity,  a  life  of  far-reaching  results.  It  is  told  for  us 
very  graphically  and  vividly  in  the  new  historical  novel,  Colum- 
banus the  Celt,  by  Walter  T.  Leahy.  Father  Leahy  begins  with 
the  childhood  of  the  Saint,  and  following  to  a  certain  extent  the 
method  of  "  John  Ayscough  "  in  his  beautiful  San  Celestino,  traces 
the  spiritual  development  and  formation  of  the  schoolboy  at 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  251 

Bangor,  and  then  of  the  novice  in  the  monastery  there.  Later  he 
makes  us  follow  him,  not  as  a  name  in  a  vague  history,  not  as  a 
pictured  face  on  a  canvas,  but  as  a  living,  struggling  man,  through 
a  career  difficult,  courageous,  saintly,  and  always  efficient.  Effi- 
cient is  a  word  from  which  we  moderns  have  sapped  the  strength 
by  frequent  use,  and  at  any  rate  a  pale  word  for  one  who  helped  to 
change  the  ways  of  Europe,  but  let  it  pass.  It  will  only  emphasize 
the  contrast  between  our  achievements  and  those  of  the  "  Dark 
Ages."  Father  Leahy  in  Columbanus  the  Celt  has  given  us  a  book 
that  is  as  interesting  and  exciting  as  any  fiction,  and  that  has  at 
the  same  time  the  dignity  of  a  biography.  It  should  surely  be 
appreciated  by  all  Catholic  readers,  especially  by  those  who  are 
also  Celts. 

THE  HONOURABLE  MRS.  GARRY.  By  Mrs.  Henry  de  la 
Pasture  (Lady  Clifford).  New  York:  E.  P.  Button  &  Co. 
$1.35  net. 

We  have  learned  to  expect  of  Mrs.  de  la  Pasture  well-told 
stories  and  clever  character  drawings,  and  her  latest  book,  The 
Honourable  Mrs.  Garry,  is  no  disappointment.  Those  of  us  who 
met  the  fair  Erica  with  her  china-blue  eyes,  her  extra-decollete 
gowns,  and  her  catlike  love  of  physical  comfort,  when  she  first 
appeared  as  the  mercenary,  heartless,  Helen-of-Troy  heroine  in 
the  novel  called  Master  Christopher,  have  been  wondering  much  as 
to  her  subsequent  career.  We  get  it  in  this  present  story,  and 
follow  it  with  the  vivid  interest  that  the  author  so  well  knows  how 
to  arouse.  Erica  really  attempts  to  play  fair  with  the  young 
husband  whose  good  looks  and  adoration  almost  atone  for  his 
comparative  poverty.  But  alas  for  reformation !  a  string  of  pearls 
plays  havoc  with  her  good  resolutions,  and  she  cannot  resist, 
later  on,  the  temptation  of  a  legacy  from  the  dead  Christopher. 
In  her  cold-blooded  greed,  her  complacency,  and  most  of  all,  in 
her  very  real,  if  only  occasional,  struggles  for  reform,  Erica  is 
surely  one  of  the  cleverest  character  sketches  that  the  author  has 
yet  given  us. 

VOCATIONS  FOR  GIRLS.     By  Mary  A.  Laselle  and  Katherine 
Wiley.     Boston:    Houghton  Mifflin  Co.     85  cents. 
Two  teachers  in  the  Technical  High  School  of  Newton,  Massa- 
chusetts, have  written  a  little  manual  that,   for  sound  common 
sense  and  for  practical  helpfulness,  cannot  be  too  heartily  recom- 


252  NEW  BOOKS  [May, 

mended.  Its  subject  is  Vocations  for  Girls,  and  its  purpose  "to 
give  to  young  girls,  and  those  responsible  for  the  guidance  of  girls, 
some  definite  information  as  to  conditions  of  work  in  the  more  com- 
mon vocations."  Thirteen  vocations — or  rather  avocations — the 
authors  take,  and,  devoting  a  chapter  to  each,  point  out  what  it  re- 
quires in  physique,  in  character,  and  in  education;  what  scale  of 
wages  it  offers;  what  are  its  attractions,  and  what  its  drawbacks. 
Then  after  treating  of  the  salesgirl,  the  cook,  and  the  kindergartner, 
the  book  remembers  to  deal  with  the  girl  who  stays  at  home,  who 
can  be  a  wage-earner  just  as  surely  as  her  more  enterprising  sisters. 
All  the  information  given  is  clear  and  definite,  and  the  advice  most 
sensible.  Moreover,  there  follows  an  appendix,  consisting  of  quo- 
tations from  great  authors,  in  definition  and  in  praise  of  work. 
The  book  might  profitably  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  every  "sweet 
girl  graduate  "  of  our  convents,  high  schools,  and  grammar  schools. 

EUCHARISTICA:  VERSE  AND  PROSE  IN  HONOUR  OF  THE 
HIDDEN  GOD.  By  Rev.  H.  T.  Henry,  Litt.D.  Philadel- 
phia: The  Dolphin  Press.  $1.50. 

The  manifest  need  of  a  volume  of  Eucharistic  poems  in  Eng- 
lish has  long  been  felt:  not  merely  Eucharistic  verse  (in  which 
our  minor  Catholic  songsters  are  nowise  abstinent),  but  worthy 
English  renderings  of  the  classic  Latin  hymns — as  also  original 
work  of  devout  purpose  and  poetic  purity.  There  is  still  remark- 
ably little  true  poetry  on  this  subject  in  English  literature.  Gerard 
Hopkins'  Barn  floor  and  Winepress -is  one  of  the  conspicuous  ex- 
ceptions, but  it  is  too  exotic  for  general  appreciation. 

Now  comes  this  collected  work  of  Dr.  Henry  (Professor  of 
Poetry  and  Ecclesiastical  Music  at  Overbrook  Seminary),  sonorous, 
lucidly  clear,  and  bearing  the  hallmark  of  dignity  and  distinction. 
More  than  all  this,  it  shines  at  its  best  with  fine  poetic  fervor. 
Christ  in  the  Blessed  Eucharist  is  the  regnant  theme  of  the  entire 
volume.  Its  translations  open  with  the  immortal  hymns  of  St. 
Thomas  (the  Lauda,  Sion  and  Pange,  Lingua),  and  close  with 
English  versions  of  certain  prayers  from  the  Rituale  and  Pontificate 
for  the  blessing  of  Eucharistic  vestments.  In  all  cases,  except  of 
these  liturgical  prayers,  the  Latin  original  is  placed  beside  the 
English  translation — a  not  too  common  virtue.  Everyone  knows 
how  comparatively  easy  it  is  for  a  scholar  to  transpose  ecclesiastical 
Latin  into  a  ponderous  but  rhythmic  vernacular — how  difficult  to 
achieve  the  dramatic  strength,  the  spontaneity  of  Doctor  Henry's 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  253 

versions.  The  Twelfth  Psalm  is  an  instance  in  point;  while 
surely  the  refinement,  grace,  and  directness  of  his  Anima  Christi 
prayer  should  give  it  the  precedence  among  existing  English  ver- 
sions. 

Doctor  Henry's  original  poems  are  so  good  that  one  longs 
for  more  of  them.  They  abound  in  single  lines  of  striking  subtlety, 
and  in  an  imaginative  fervor  at  once  vivid  and  controlled.  At 
least  one  poem,  "  The  Love  of  God,"  shakes  the  soul  with  all  of 
Francis  Thompson's  mysticism,  and  much  of  Francis  Thompson's 
music;  while  in  "A  Visit"  there  is  the  calmer  but  scarcely  less 
poignant  atmosphere  of  "  twilight  silences  "  in  some  ancient  Gothic 
shrine  of  the  Captive  King.  It  is  too  great  a  gift  for  merely 
occasional  or  translational  uses — this  poetic  gift  of  Doctor  Henry's. 
The  world  has  need  of  it  for  solace,  for  stimulus,  for  the  "  sweet- 
ness and  light "  which  it  holds  in  stewardship. 

SONGS  FOR  SINNERS.     By  Rev.  Hugh  Francis  Blunt.     New 

York:  The  Devin-Adair  Co.     $1.00. 

A  volume  of  professedly  religious  verse  does  not  usually 
awaken  high  expectations  in  a  reviewer's  breast.  The  very  great- 
ness of  the  theme  leads  him  to  expect  either  philosophical  specula- 
tions arranged  in  metrical  feet,  abstract,  passionless,  laborious, 
or  else  perfervid  raptures  over  the  hackneyed — correct  enough  in 
theology,  but  lacking  in  that  ring  of  personal  experience  or  that 
intellectual  dignity  which  would  lift  it  out  of  the  ranks  of  mere 
Sunday-school  verse. 

A  reader  approaching  Father  Blunt's  Songs  for  Sinners  in 
this  frame  of  mind  will  be  pleasantly  disappointed.  For  here  he 
will  find  the  old  and  fundamental  religious  truths — the  deceitf ulness 
of  sin;  the  misery  consequent  even  in  this  life  upon  the  rejection 
of  Christ's  yoke;  the  blessedness  of  Christ's  peace;  the  purifying 
power  of  pain;  the  torments  of  hell;  the  sorrows  and  intercessory 
office  of  our  Lady — treated  with  a  dignity,  a  beauty,  and  a  sin- 
cerity which  cannot  fail  to  command  respect.  Here  is  real  poetry : 
musical  voicing  of  strong  emotion,  vivid  picturing  of  nature  skill- 
fully employed  to  mirror  or  to  contrast  with  the  tragic  experiences 
of  man.  The  imagery  is  always  graceful  and  sometimes  splendid; 
the  rhythm  always  easy  and  sufficiently  varied;  the  thought  serious, 
sane  and  impressive.  Nowhere  is  there  suspicion  of  verse-made- 
to-order.  To  mention  only  a  few  numbers  where  all  are  good — 
there  is  genuine  intensity  in  "  What  No  Man  Knoweth  "  and  "  The 


254  NEW  BOOKS  [May, 

Desert  of  the  Soul;"  genuine  passion  in  "A  Health  "  and  "  Blood 
Brotherhood ;"  genuine  beauty  in  "  The  Three  Home  Comings  " 
and  "  Love  Watcheth."  The  titles  of  the  separate  songs  are  par- 
ticularly apt  and  appealing. 

In  material,  make  up,  and  general  appearance  the  volume  is 
extremely  successful.  If  the  Devin-Adair  Co.  can  continue  to 
produce  such  excellent  works,  so  beautifully  printed,  they  will 
do  much  to  remove  an  ancient  complaint  against  those  who  have 
published  books  for  Catholics. 

"    > ': 

MY  UNKNOWN  CHUM,  «  AGUECHEEK."     With  a  foreword  by 

Henry  Garrity.    New  York:  The  Devin-Adair  Co.    $1.50  net. 

In  this  foreword,  Mr.  Garrity  tells  us  that  the  volume  bearing 
the  above  title  is  a  reprint  of  the  work  of  an  "  unknown  author,  who 
saw  in  travel,  in  art,  in  literature,  in  life,  and  humanity  much  that 
travelers  and  other  writers  and  scholars  have  failed  to  observe." 
The  original  publication  is  now  a  rarity,  found  only  in  the  libraries 
of  book  collectors  and  bibliophiles.  Mr.  Garrity  had  experienced 
so  much  pleasure  and  profit  from  the  book,  that  he  felt  that  he 
ought  to  give  the  world  an  opportunity  to  enjoy  the  work  with  him. 
Accordingly  he  has  republished  it,  changing  only  the  title  from  the 
original  Aguecheek  to  the  more  significant  one  of  My  Unknown 
Chum. 

We  learn  that  the  reputed  author  was  one  Charles  B.  Fair- 
banks, who  died  in  1859  at  the  early  age  of  thirty- two,  an  age  which, 
we  agree  with  Mr.  Garrity,  is  disputed  by  the  text,  for  it  is  in- 
credible that  a  man  of  that  age  should  have  had  the  wide  scholar- 
ship possessed  by  the  author,  a  scholarship  having  its  foundation 
in  the  best  teaching  of  the  schools,  but  widened  and  deepened 
by  years  of  travel  and  loving  study  of  great  authors. 

The  first  part  of  the  book,  entitled  "  Sketches  of  Foreign 
Travel,"  is  a  graphic  descriptive  narrative  of  the  great  cities  of 
Western  Europe  and  Italy;  but  it  is  no  mere  diary  or  letter  re- 
cording the  passing  impression  of  the  chance  tourist,  with  his 
Baedeker  in  hand,  that  is  presented  to  us.  Instead  we  have  a 
traveler  who  dwells  lovingly  upon  the  great  monuments  of  antiq- 
uity, to  whom  the  Forum  of  Rome  recalls  the  place  "  where  Cicero 
pleaded,  gazing  upon  that  mount  where  captive  kings  did  homage 
to  the  masters  of  the  world."  But  if  our  unknown  author  gazes 
with  veneration  upon  all  "  those  dusty  memorials  of  the  brilliance 
of  the  past,"  he  has  little  patience  with  the  antiquarian,  who  with 


•1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  255 

microscope  and  chisel  seeks  to  ascertain  from  what  quarry  the 
marble  of  each  column  or  arch  was  obtained. 

There  is  much  that  is  reminiscent  of  Irving  in  this  volume. 
If  we  miss  at  times  the  urbanity  of  the  Master  of  Sunnyside,  we 
must  yield  the  palm  of  wide  culture  and  scholarship  to  My  Un- 
known Chum. 

In  the  second  part  of  the  volume,  entitled  "  Essays,"  we  come 
into  what  is,  if  possible,  a  still  more  intimate  touch  with  our  travel- 
er-author. We  seem  to  be  sitting  by  his  side  before  some  cheerful 
hearth  fire,  and  listening  to  the  happy  outpourings  of  a  mind 
enriched  with  the  spoils  of  the  best  of  all  literature,  and  what  an 
outpouring  we  have!  Shrewd,  witty,  sententious  criticisms  of  life; 
made  with  all  in  so  kindly  and  humorous  fashion  as  to  take  away 
the  sting  of  the  satire. 

The  literary  world  owes  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  Mr.  Garrity 
for  restoring  to  it  a  volume  capable  of  giving  so  much  profit  and 
pleasure.  Let  the  young  read  it  that  they  may  realize,  ere  it  be  too 
late,  the  value  of  these  studies  that  charmed  and  enriched  far 
beyond  the  power  of  wealth;  studies  that  "age  cannot  wither  nor 
custome  stale." 

HISTORY  OF  THE  SOCIETY  OF  JESUS  IN  FRANCE  FROM 

ITS  ORIGIN  TO  ITS  SUPPRESSION  (1528-1762).     Vol.  II. 

(1575-1604).     By  Henri  Fouqueray,' S.J.     Paris:    Librairie 

Alphonse  Picard.     12  frs. 

Father  Fouqueray,  in  the  second  volume  of  his  History  of  the 
Society  of  Jesus  in  France,  deals  with  a  complex  and  thrilling 
period.  Tracing  the  interior  life  and  the  new  progress  of  the 
Society  under  Henry  III.,  and  its  efforts  to  restore  the  kingdom 
of  Mary  Stuart  to  the  Faith,  he  begins  his  real  theme  with 
the  accession  of  Henry  of  Navarre  and  the  formation  of  the 
League.  The  Jesuits  were  of  no  political  party,  but  they  could 
not  preach  submission  to  a  King  excommunicated  by  Sixtus  V.; 
after  his  abjuration,  they  were  the  first  to  rally  to  his  side, 
and  aided,  especially  through  Cardinal  Toletus,  his  reconciliation 
with  Clement  VIII.  The  opposition  of  the  University  and  Par- 
liament of  Paris  and  of  the  Huguenots;  the  attempt  on  the  life 
of  the  King  by  the  half-crazed  Jean  Chastel,  in  which  the  Society 
was  declared  to  be  implicated  because  the  lad  had  studied  philos- 
ophy in  one  of  its  colleges,  led  to  a  decree  of  banishment  and 
of  confiscation  of  property.  But  the  Parliaments  of  Bordeaux 


256  NEW  BOOKS  [May, 

and  Toulouse  refused  to  imitate  Paris  in  this  act;  Lorraine  received 
many  of  the  Society ;  some  cities,  not  affected  by  the  decree,  offered 
new  foundations;  those  from  which  the  Jesuits  were  expelled 
protested  openly.  The  King,  gradually  reconciled  with  the  Pope, 
learned  to  know  the  society  better,  and  finally  re-established  them 
by  the  Edict  of  Rouen,  proving  afterwards  a  generous  protector. 

When  we  note  that  Father  Fouqueray  has  devoted  over  seven 
hundred  pages  to  these  thirty  years  (1575-1604),  we  can  form 
some  understanding  of  the  detail  involved,  but  so  interesting  is 
the  style  that  the  detail  does  not  weary.  The  tone  is  calm  and 
objective,  a  most  important  requirement  in  the  treatment  of  such 
a  theme.  The  strife  of  parties  and  the  faults  of  individuals  are 
clearly  pictured,  but  above  them  the  religious,  self-sacrificing  policy 
and  practice  of  the  Society  as  a  whole  presents  itself  with  con- 
vincing force. 

A  description  of  the  apostolic  work  of  the  Jesuits  and  their 
success  as  educators;  quotations  from  the  rules  laid  down  by  P. 
Maggis  for  the  College  in  Paris,  1587;  a  historical  and  analytical 
discussion  of  the  Ratio  Studiorum,  1599,  serve  to  balance  the  polit- 
ical aspect  of  the  picture.  We  heartily  recommend  this  volume  to 
all  serious  students. 

THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE  FROM  WITHIN.     By  William  C.  Van 

Antwerp.     New  York:    Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.     $1.50  net. 

A  volume  in  defense  of  the  Stock  Exchange  has  at  least  the 

merit  of  novelty.     And  this  one  has  the  two  additional  pleas 

in  its  favor,  that  it  is  written  in  an  enthusiastic,  and  at  times  even 

brilliant,  style,  sprinkled  with  apt  literary  allusions,  and  amusing 

stories  and  epigrams,  and  also  that  it  is  a  challenge  to  the  sweeping 

indictments  against  this  institution  made  at  times  without  sufficient 

proof. 

That  its  author  is  a  member  of  the  Exchange  is  a  guarantee 
of  his  knowledge  of  the  subject;  to  many  it  will,  however,  at  once 
suggest  a  fear  of  bias.  Readers  will  suspect  that  difficulties  are 
glossed  over  or  entirely  ignored,  and  that  to  the  quotations  from 
economists  opposing  government  interference,  for  instance,  quota- 
tions from  other  economists  equally  important  might  be  opposed. 
That  some  sort  of  Exchange  is  inevitable  and  necessary,  all  will 
agree ;  that  the  present  one  is  quite  the  model  here  pictured  we  must 
beg  leave  to  doubt.  But  we  echo  Mr.  Van  Antwerp's  condemna- 
tion of  rash  judgments;  and  we  trust  that  the  improved  methods 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  257 

herein  recorded  may  so  increase  as  to  leave  the  critic  without 
defense.  Descriptions  of  the  Bourses  in  London  and  Paris  close 
the  book. 

A  CHILD'S  RULE  OF  LIFE.  By  Robert  Hugh  Benson.  New 
York :  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.  75  cents  net. 
A  book  which  we  heartily  recommend  to  all  parents,  and 
which  will  have  a  great  charm  for  all  Catholic  children,  is  A  Child's 
Rule  of  Life,  by  Father  Robert  Hugh  Benson.  The  author  has 
left  the  field  of  psychological  research,  forgotten  the  problems  and 
the  tragedies  of  history,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  a  child  again. 
It  is  not  every  one  that  can  keep  his  childhood.  Father  Benson 
has,  and  speaks  to  children  about  the  great,  big  eternal  things  in 
a  child's  way.  The  little  ones  will  be  delighted  to  learn  these  verses 
by  heart,  and  thus  almost  unconsciously  gain  a  deep  knowledge  of 
Christian  doctrine,  and  a  love  and  habit  of  Catholic  practice.  Equal 
credit  must  be  given  to  the  illustrator,  Mr.  Gabriel  Pippet,  for  his 
fine  work.  Father  Benson  says: 

Mr.  Pippet  and  I 

Have  thought  we  would  try 
To  make  up  a  Rule  for  you  all. 

A  Rule  to  keep  straight  by, 

Be  in  time  and  not  late  by — 

(And  e'en  meditate  by!) 
A  Rule  for  big  children  and  small. 

I've  made  up  these  rhymes; 

Rather  feeble  sometimes, 
But  better  than   no   rhymes   at  all. 

The  Rule  takes  the  little  child  from  the  moment  it  awakes — 

When   I   wake  bright  at  morning  light, 

And  new  begins  the  day, 
I   put   away   the   dreams   of   night, 
Sit  up,  and  then  with  all  my  might 

I  bless  myself,  and  say, 

O  God,  I  offer  up  to  Thee 
My  soul  and  heart  Thine  own  to  be. 

And  all  I  do  or  hear  or  see 

And  all  my  work  and  play — 

through  his  morning  prayers;  going  to  church;  hearing  Mass; 
saying  grace;  reciting  lessons;  practicing  obedience;  confessing  his 
VOL.  xcvii.— 17. 


258  NEW  BOOKS  [May, 

sins ;  receiving  Holy  Communion ;  evening  prayers,  and  bed.  Round 
them  all  Father  Benson  has  put  the  fragrance  of  verse  that  will 
make  them  sweet  and  delightful  to  the  child  mind. 

SING  YE  TO  THE  LORD.     Second  Series.     By  Father  Robert 

Eaton.     New  York :  Benziger  Brothers. 

Sometime  ago  we  recommended  to  our  readers  Father  Eaton's 
Sing  Ye  to  the  Lord,  expositions  of  fifty  of  the  Psalms.  Father 
Eaton  has  issued  a  second  series  under  the  same  title,  which  also 
merits  our  praise.  These  volumes  ought  to  succeed  in  making  the 
Psalms,  so  rich  a  treasure  of  spiritual  wealth,  practical  prayers, 
subjects  of  meditation,  and  efficient  means  of  consolation  and  of 
help  to  our  people.  Father  Eaton's  work  is  one  of  devotional 
exposition  which  will  appeal  to  every  soul,  howsoever  simple,  that 
has  any  spiritual  taste  at  all.  His  work  is  practical,  that  is,  he  shows 
the  immediate  usefulness  of  the  Psalms  in  our  present  day  duties 
and  needs.  To  his  commentary  he  brings  a  fund  of  practical 
experience,  and  a  knowledge  of  Scripture  in  general.  Never 
does  he  leave  us  without  a  pointed  lesson.  He  brings  out  most 
effectively  the  superlative  worth  of  the  Psalms,  and  how 
the  light  and  grace  that  the  New  Law  has  shed  upon  them  lend 
might  to  their  wisdom,  hope  to  their  sorrow,  and  joy  to  their 
aspirations.  Our  human  nature  is  still  subject  to  the  same  weak- 
ness as  it  was  in  the  Psalmist's  days.  His  warning  must  be  heeded ; 
his  cry  has  found  its  echo  in  our  own  hearts;  his  hope-to-be  has 
become  our  hope-that-is  in  Christ,  the  Light  and  the  Way. 

We  will  quote  part  of  Father  Eaton's  commentary  on  the 
Twenty-sixth  Psalm,  which  he  has  entitled  "  God  Alone."  After 
repeating  from  the  twelfth  to  the  seventeenth  verse  he  writes: 

How  beautiful  a  prayer,  made  up  of  short,  broken  petitions, 
but  all  so  direct,  so  earnest,  so  full  of  trust!  It  goes  straight 
to  God,  who  will  be  entreated  by  His  servants.  We  pray 
to  ears  that  are  attentive,  and  our  prayer  is  after  God's  own 
heart,  being  framed  from  first  to  last  in  the  spirit  of  the  words : 
"  One  thing  I  have  asked  of  the  Lord,  and  this  will  I  seek 
after:  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days 
of  my  life,  that  I  may  see  the  delight  of  the  Lord  and  may 
visit  His  temple." 

%  Such  is  the  spirit  of  the  saints,  of  all  who  are  loyal  and  in 
earnest.  It  is  the  foundation  on  which  to  build  securely:  it 
is  the  spirit  that  makes  life  interesting  and  precious,  and  a  very 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  259 

prelude  to  eternity.  It  is  the  spirit  that  makes  us  careful  over 
every  detail,  brave  in  every  sorrow,  regular  and  exact  in  the 
performance  of  all  duties,  humble  in  our  esteem  of  ourselves, 
generous  in  our  esteem  of  others,  full  of  joy,  of  peace,  of 
calm.  By  it  life  is  buoyed  up  with  hope  of  eternity,  and  lit  by 
the  encouraging  light  that  streams  from  that  distant  but  most 
certain  shore,  enabling  us  to  arise  to  our  task  day  by  day  in  the 
strength  of  the  sublime  verses  with  which  the  Psalm  concludes : 
"  I  believe  to  see  the  good  things  of  the  Lord  in  the  land  of  the 
living.  Expect  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  do  manfully,  let  thy  heart 
take  courage,  and  wait  thou  for  the  Lord ! " 

Sing  Ye  to  the  Lord  is  a  book  that  will  be  an  illumination  and 
a  delight  to  many  souls. 

THE  KINGDOM.     By  Harold  Elsdale  Goad.     New  York:   Fred- 
erick A.  Stokes  Co.     $1.25  net. 

The  author  of  this  volume  has  undoubtedly  endeavored  to  do 
an  honest  and  consistent  piece  of  work.  With  the  old  convent  of 
San  Damiano  and  the  Umbrian  hills  as  a  setting,  he  has  told  the 
story  of  a  man  who  had  his  difficulties  of  mind  and  heart,  difficulties 
keen  and  long-sustained,  yet  from  which  he  emerges,  or  at  least 
the  author  would  have  him  emerge,  triumphant.  The  story  is  told 
with  attractive  sympathy,  and  the  analytical  work  is  at  times  admir- 
ably done.  But  the  character  of  Bernardo,  his  progress  and  his 
triumph,  are  unreal  and  inconsistent.  Though  a  story  of  a  monk, 
and  done,  as  we  have  said,  with  evident  good  intent,  it  is  not  at 
all  Catholic.  It  seems  to  us  like  a  grafting  of  amateurish  mysticism 
upon  modern  pragmatism.  If  difficulties  can  be  solved  as  they 
were  solved  with  Bernardo,  faith  is  purely  emotional  and  subjective. 
The  author  has  apparently  tried  to  be  all  things  to  all  men — both 
of  the  Catholic  faith  and  of  James'  philosophy.  But  there  is  only 
one  way,  and  that  is  Christ,  Who  did  not  deny  nor  neglect  reason, 
but  Who  built  upon  it.  There  is  a  harmony  in  the  whole  universe 
of  God,  and  he  who  shatters  it  only  invites  chaos.  The  saints  had 
a  rational  faith,  and  the  traditional  steps  and  experiences  by  which 
they  were  made  still  hold  good.  They  have  been  tried  and  have 
not  been  found  wanting. 


jfordcjri  periobtcals. 

Anglican  Points  of  View.  By  A.  H.  Nankivell.  In  the 
Anglican  Church  there  are  many  who  are  asking,  "  May  we  stay 
where  we  are  ?"  or  "  Must  we  go  to  Rome  ?  "  Some  are  "  sound  on 
the  Holy  Father;"  behind  them  are  the  "  Guild  of  the  Love  of  God," 
and  the  "  Catholic  Literature  Association,"  who  are  non-Papal 
rather  than  anti-Papal,  who  do  not  think  it  safe  to  reject  any 
Roman  Catholic  doctrine,  and  who  are  very  devout  to  our  Blessed 
Lady;  behind  these  the  main  body  of  the  English  Church  Union, 
willing  to  allow  a  Roman  Primacy  of  ecclesiastical  institution, 
but  considering  Rome  too  unreasonable  to  compel  allegiance. 

The  best  plan  for  converting  these  people  is  to  influence  first 
those  nearest  to  the  Church ;  to  show  them  that  the  undoubted 
spiritual  revival  among  some  Anglicans  does  not  justify  schism 
or  the  toleration  of  heresy  by  authority;  and  to  keep  before  them 
the  central  question,  "Where  is  the  Church?"  They  should  be 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  they  are  separated  from  the  main 
body  of  Christendom,  to  whose  judgment  their  Church  refuses  to 
submit;  that,  if  they  reject  the  Pope,  they  are  rejecting  the  Church, 
for  where  Peter  is,  there  is  the  Church;  that  the  defense  based 
on  the  history  of  the  Meletian  schism  utterly  breaks  down;  that 
Anglican  Christianity  is  essentially  geographical  and  national,  with- 
out authority  in  faith  or  morals;  that  it  is  only  the  High  Church 
party  that  supposes  the  Anglican  Church  to  have  a  priesthood. 
But  especially  intimate  and  frequent  contact  with  Catholics,  and 
experience  of  the  practical  worth  and  power  of  our  Faith,  are 
necessary  to  complete  the  intellectual  arguments. — The  Month, 
April. 

Familiar  Prayers.  Father  Thurston  in  this  paper  discusses 
an  overlooked  composition  which  confirms  his  former  conclusions 
on  the  origin  of  the  Hail  Mary.  It  is  a  rhythmical  composition 
in  prose,  probably  written  by  Gottschalk,  Monk  of  Limburg  and 
Canon  of  Aachen,  who  died  in  1098.  It  is  prefaced  by  an  exact 
transcription  of  the  salutation  of  the  Angel  to  our  Lady,  without 
the  greeting  of  St.  Elizabeth ;  and  it  clearly  foreshadows  the  direct 
petition  with  which  our  actual  form  of  the  Hail  Mary  concludes. 
St.  Bernardine  of  Siena,  who  died  in  1444,  knew  this  supplementary 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  261 

petition.  In  the  Sarum  Breviary  of  1531  we  have  the  entire  Hail 
Mary  to  all  intents  and  purposes  as  we  have  it  now,  except  that 
Christus  was  inserted  after  Jesus,  and  the  word  nostrae  is  not 
found.  However,  memories  of  a  truncated  form  survived  even 
after  the  full  form  was  adopted  in  the  Roman  Breviary  of  Pope 
Pius  V.  In  Ireland,  and  in  the  diocese  of  Toul,  down  to  the 
time  of  Calmet,  who  died  in  1757,  and  probably  much  later, 
an  Ave  was  used  at  the  beginning  of  Office,  consisting  only  of  the 
words  Ave  Maria  gratia  plena.  This  custom,  curiously  enough, 
is  said  to  have  been  introduced  by  Bishop  Henri  de  Ville  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  at  which  date  nobody  disputes  that  the  whole 
of  the  "  first  part,"  down  to  Jesus  Christus,  Amen,  was  commonly 
recited  by  all. 

As  for  the  Regina  Cceli,  it  is  much  younger  in  date  than  the 
other  three  antiphons  of  our  Lady,  "  and  the  so-called  tradition 
connecting  it  with  St.  Gregory  is  an  historically  worthless  fable, 
which  cannot  be  traced  further  back  than  the  Legenda  Aurea  of 
James  de  Voragine,  compiled  about  the  year  1275."  It  should 
probably  be  assigned  to  the  early  thirteenth  century,  and  is  not 
an  original  hymn,  but  only  an  adaptation  of  a  Christmas  hymn  in 
honor  of  our  Lady.  Its  adoption  by  the  Church  is  due  to  Fran- 
ciscan influence;  its  use  during  paschal  time,  in  place  of  the  Angelus, 
seems  to  have  originated  with  an  instruction  issued  by  Pope  Benedict 
XIV.  in  1743.— The  Month,  April. 

The  Land  of  Francis  of  Assist.  By  Henry  Joly.  This  article 
is  the  first  in  a  series  of  social  studies  of  the  provinces  of  Italy. 
The  subject  for  this  study  is  Umbria.  The  author  describes  its 
beautiful  and  healthy  location;  its  entrancing  scenery;  but  the 
inhabitants  themselves  are  his  chief  concern.  As  regards  labor 
they  seem  indifferent.  Their  sickness  and  mortality  lists  are  very 
low,  and  the  numbers  of  their  emigrants  the  smallest  in  the  king- 
dom. The  people  of  Umbria  are  strong  in  faith,  and  on  the  whole 
may  be  considered  the  happiest  of  mortals. — Le  Correspondant, 
January  25. 

TA  Late  Historian.  By  Marquis  de  Vogue.  Paul  Thureau- 
Dangin  died  at  Cannes,  France,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five  years. 
His  name  was  well  known  and  highly  venerated  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  France.  Early  in  his  life,  he  sacrificed  his 
ambitions  for  political  honors,  and  devoted  his  years  to  literary 


262  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [May, 

labors,  especially  history.  Politically  his  preferences  were  for  the 
constitutional  monarchy,  and  in  religious  matters  he  was  the  pupil 
of  Lacordaire,  Dupanloup,  Montalembert,  and  de  Broglie. 

In  his  writings  on  political  history,  he  dealt  with  the  thirty- 
four  years  of  the  constitutional  monarchy.  In  religious  history 
with  the  Catholic  Renaissance  or  Oxford  Movement  in  England, 
this  latter  being  his  chief  work. 

No  greater  tribute  could  have  been  given  to  his  memory  than 
the  mixed  gathering  at  his  funeral  in  the  Church  of  St.  Sulpice. 
The  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Paris,  the  representative  of  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Republic,  mourned  at  his  bier,  together  with  scholars, 
politicians,  religious  orders,  people  of  wealth  and  fashion,  and 
those  whom  M.  Dangin  truly  loved — the  poor. — Le  Correspondent, 
March  10. 

The  "Approaching  Celebration  at  Rome.  By  Pierre  Battifol. 
During  the  present  year  the  six-hundredth  anniversary  of  the  Edict 
of  Milan  will  be  celebrated  in  the  city  of  Rome.  In  the  first  two 
centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  Catholicity  was  considered  an  illicit 
religion,  because  it  was  opposed  to  the  state  religion — Paganism. 
The  writer  narrates  the  difficulties  and  persecutions  endured  from 
Nero  down  to  the  granting  of  the  Edict  of  Milan.  He  then 
describes  the  various  legislative  acts  which  were  in  a  manner  fore- 
runners of  the  famous  Edict  of  Milan.  A  description  is  given  of 
the  contents  of  this  Edict. — Le  Correspondant,  March  10. 

Tolerance  and  Intolerance.  By  Rev.  P.  Coffey.  This  is 
an  enthusiastic  summary  of  the  recent  volume  entitled  Tolerance, 
by  Father  Vermeersch,  S.J.,  which  deals  with  both  facts  and 
principles  in  the  Church's  dealings,  past  and  present,  with  heresy 
and  heretics.  Nowadays  tolerance  is  proclaimed  as  always  a  bless- 
ing; but  since  tolerance  really  means  the  endurance  of  what,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  we  conceive  to  be  an  evil,  tolerance  can  only  be  justified 
when  it  avoids  a  greater  evil.  Intolerance  is  denounced  as  a  crime. 
Is  it  a  crime  in  a  Church  with  a  divine  mission,  with  a  divine  doc- 
trine, with  divine  authority?  Besides  "the  name  of  intolerance  is 
unjustly  applied  to  the  coercive  action  which  the  Church  allows. 
The  intention  of  tyrannizing  or  forcing  the  conscience  is  absent. 

Excesses  have  been  committed,  and  some  men,  acting  in 

the  Cmirch's  name,  have  been  carried  away,  and  gone  beyond  the 
limits  she  has  prescribed ;  but  then  the  voice  of  her  faithful  children 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  263 

has  been  raised  in  compassion  for  the  victims Normally  and 

traditionally,  they  (Catholics)  are  the  oppressed,  and  not  the  op- 
pressors." The  volume  is  praised  for  its  timeliness,  the  calm  and 
objective  temper,  and  the  wealth  of  information  afforded. — The 
Irish  Ecclesiastical  Record,  April.  >  >.->, 

Sanctity  'According  to  William  James.  In  this  chapter  of 
his  book  on  Religious  Experience,  William  James  studies  "Sanctity." 
At  first  he  criticizes  the  method  of  the  Catholic  theologians,  which 
he  calls  "apriori,"  and  declares  that  he  has  adopted  the  empiric 
method. 

In  his  description  of  a  great  Saint  he  says,  "  I  call  'Saint' 
the  man  in  whom  religious  emotion  constitutes  an  habitual  focus 
of  personal  energy."  Therefore  saints  are  found  in  every  religion, 
true  or  false,  so  we  are  told.  In  this  description  we  find  no  purity 
nor  charity  which,  according  to  our  Lord,  are  the  essence  of 
perfection. 

What  characterizes  a  Saint  is  a  profound  conviction,  not  only 
rational  but  intuitive  of  the  existence  of  an  immaterial  Power,  thus 
James  continues,  and  the  sentiment  of  leading  a  higher  life,  in 
virtue  of  a  bond  sweet  and  strong,  which  joins  the  saintly  soul  to 
that  same  Power  to  which  it  abandons  itself.  Thus  dilated,  and 
so  to  say  melted  in  it,  the  soul  is  free  from  selfish  cares.  Prof. 
James  forgets  that  God  is  personal ! 

His  idea  of  mortification,  which  he  calls  asceticism,  is  very 
strange.  To  a  derangement  of  her  nervous  system,  he  ascribes  the 
thirst  for  sufferings  which  characterized  Blessed  Margaret  Mary's 
life.  This  practically  means  that  the  Saints,  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul, 
and  all  the  Apostles  who  were  glad  to  suffer  for  the  name  of  Christ 
included,  were  suffering  from  neurasthenia. 

The  American  philosopher  shows  his  utter  ignorance  of  the 
virtue  of  obedience,  which,  according  to  him,  denotes  absence  of 
will,  one  of  the  most  frequent  symptoms  of  nervous  fatigue. 

To  sum  up:  James'  method  is  arbitrary  and  illogical;  arbi- 
trary too  the  religion  he  professes;  arbitrary  the  sanctity  he 
teaches. — La  Civilta  Cattolica,  February. 

The  Month  (April)  :  In  the  Eve  of  Catholic  Emancipation, 
Father  Pollen  pays  a  tribute  of  praise  to  Monsignor  Bernard  Ward's 
volumes  on  the  above  subject  for  their  just,  scholarly,  and  sin- 
gularly impartial  treatment  of  a  dark  and  entangled  problem. 


264  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [May, 

E.  M.  Walker  contributes  a  sympathetic  study  of  the  life  and 

character  of  Hans  Christian  Andersen. 

The  Tablet  (April  5)  :  Ministers  and  Marconi's:  The  conduct 
of  the  government  ministers  in  profiting  in  a  transaction  in  stocks  of 
the  American  Marconi  Company,  while  the  government  was  closing 
a  contract  with  the  English  company,  is  declared  strangely  indiscrete, 

although  not  dishonest. Reminiscences  of  Malta:  John  Hobson 

Mathews  describes  the  isle  of  this  year's  Eucharistic  Congress — 
its  cites,  the  country  districts,  the  Catholic  spirit,  and  great  devo- 
tion and  the  charity  of  the  people.  His  residence  there  was  from 
1876  to  1883. 

Irish  Theological  Quarterly   (January) :    Rev.   D.  O'Keeffe 

discusses  at  length  the  philosophy  of  Bergson. In  Law  Reform, 

Rev.  J.  Killeher  maintains  that  the  state  cannot  dispose  of  land 
simply  as  it  wishes,  just  as  if  it  were  its  own.  It  must  first  decide 
about  the  claims  of  the  landowners.  The  primary  land  problem 

is    that    of    ownership. The    Ethics    of   Insurance,    by    Rev. 

D.  Barry,  S.T.L.  A  discussion  of  the  principles  that  should  guide 
the  conduct  of  those  who  may  be  parties  to  a  contract  of  insurance. 
The  nature  and  character  of  this  contract  is  taken  up;  and  then 
in  detail  the  duties  and  obligations  of  the  insured  and  the  insurers 
respectively. 

The  Irish  Ecclesiastical  Record  (April)  :  In  The  Footprints 
of  History  in  Ireland,  Professor  R.  A.  S.  Macalister  shows  that 
Ireland  is  to-day  the  great  archaeological  museum  of  Northern 

Europe.     The  article  is  to  be  continued. E.  Boyd  Barrett,  S.J., 

discusses  the  science  of  character,  and  P.  M.  MacSweeney  treats  of 
Jorgensen's  St.  Francis. 

Le  Correspondant  (February  10)  :  H.  Joly  continues  his  series 
on  the  Provinces  of  Italy,  dealing  here  with  Rome  and  the  Roman 

Campagna. An  unsigned  article,  entitled,  After  the  Victory, 

What?  states  that  now  the  Balkan  War  is  over,  serious  trouble 
threatens  the  victors.  The  trouble  arises  from  these  questions :  ( i ) 
what  will  be  the  new  boundaries  of  the  States,  and  (2)  what 
amounts  of  money  will  be  contributed  by  each  of  these  States  to  help 

defra*y  the  indemnity  incurred  by  the  war. Germany  vs.  The 

Catholic  Church,  by  Georges  Goyau,  reviews  the  great  struggle 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  265 

for  Catholic  education  in  Germany,  and  the  lessons  to  be  derived 
from  it. 

(February  25)  :  Spanish  Politics,  by  Salvador  Canals,  deals 
with  the  situation  in  Spain  to-day,  which  is  concerned  with  the 

Budget   of    1913    and   Suppression   of    Church   Institutions. 

An  English  Novelist,  by  M.  de  Teincey,  considers  G.  K.  Chesterton, 
his  life,  and  a  brief  resume  of  his  works. 

Annales  de  Philosophie  Chretienne  (March)  :  History  as  a 
Moral  Science,  by  Maurice  Legendre.  The  great  historical  works 
of  antiquity  show  a  marked  practical  and  moral  character.  His- 
tory is  to-day  less  moral.  The  practice  of  M.  Seignbos,  accord- 
ing to  which  "  history,  in  order  to  become  a  science,  has  to  elaborate 
brute  facts,"  to  condense  them  in  formulas  like  chemical  and  bio- 
logical facts,  is  false  and  non-historical.  Historical  facts  cannot 
be  treated  like  phenomena  of  nature.  History  must  obey  the 
conditions  not  of  the  sciences  of  nature,  but  of  our  moral  activity. 
A  Philosophy  of  Religion,  by  Emile  Beauregard.  A  posthu- 
mous work  with  this  title  by  J.  J.  Gourd,  late  professor  at  the 
University  of  Geneva,  has  just  been  presented  to  the  public.  God, 
according  to  the  author,  is  "  that  which  is  outside  of  law."  As 
for  moral  ends,  need  replaces  excellence.  In  art  the  "  lawless  " 
is  the  sublime ;  in  social  realities  it  is  revolt.  To  conceive  God  as  the 
principle  of  order  is  the  greatest  heresy.  The  reviewer  calls  it  a 
philosophy  of  religion  without  religion,  a  sterile  freak,  the  fruit 
of  an  outworn  method  answering  the  need  of  neither  scholar  nor 
believer. 

Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais  (April  i):  A  long  article  by  J. 
Laurentie  on  "  Saint  "  Charlemagne  is  quoted.  The  author  claims 
that  there  has  been  nothing  proved  against  Charlemagne's  moral 
character  sufficient  to  prevent  a  formal  canonization,  and  that  his 
cultus,  dating  from  1166  at  least,  has  never  ceased  to  be  celebrated 
in  a  certain  number  of  churches  and  dioceses.  It  has  always  had 
the  tacit  permission  of  the  Holy  See.  The  University  of  Paris, 
considering  Charlemagne  as  its  founder  and  heavenly  patron,  cele- 
brated his  feast  yearly  from  1480  onwards;  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury the  office  was  abandoned,  but  the  Mass  was  continued;  since 
the  Revolution  his  office  has  not  been  said  in  any  church  in  Paris, 
but  until  the  Law  of  Separation  posters  placed  on  the  Church 
of  the  Sorbonne  announced  that  the  feast  of  "  Saint  "  Charlemagne 


266  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [May, 

was  celebrated  on  January  28th  in  that  church  by  a  French  pane- 
gyric.  The  Reform  of  the  Calendar,  by  Ad.  Bertrand,  says  it 

would  be  desirable  to  have  the  date  for  Easter  calculated  inde- 
pendently of  the  mean,  and  to  have  Easter  and  Christmas  always 
celebrated  on  Sunday.  The  best  method  to  secure  this  end  would 
be  to  repeat  for  the  ordinary  year  the  name  of  the  preceding  week 
day,  with  the  added  word  "  second ;"  to  give  February  thirty  days 
and  March  thirty-one,  repeating  on  one  day  in  leap  year  the  name  of 
the  preceding  week  day.  The  division  into  twelve  months  should  be 
retained.  An  agreement  between  the  Church  and  civil  powers, 
like  the  initiative  of  Gregory  XIIL,  would  be  necessary. 

Etudes  (March  5) :  Devotion  and  Works  of  Devotion,  by 
Leonce  de  Grandmaison.  Saint  Thomas  defines  devotion  as  a 
certain  will  to  give  oneself  up  promptly  to  that  which  concerns  the 
service  of  God.  What  is  the  value  of  acts  of  devotion  compared 
with  the  motives  of  faith  which  dictate  them?  The  texts  of  St. 
Paul  used  by  Luther  and  his  followers  to  discredit  good  works  and 
exalt  faith,  manifestly  refer  to  the  first  fundamental  grace  of  man. 
Works  of  devotion  may  be  divided  into  worship,  and  spiritual  and 
temporal  works  of  mercy.  That  these  possess  merit  we  know  from 
the  words  of  Christ  our  Lord :  "  As  long  as  you  did  it  to  one  of 
these  My  least  brethren,  you  did  it  to  Me." 

(March  20)  :  The  Role  of  the  Church  in  Questions  of  Faith, 
by  Stephane  Harent.  Our  Faith  is  founded  on  the  Word  of  God 
Himself — on  Revelation.  The  role  of  the  Church  is  to  conserve 
this  ancient  revelation,  the  deposit  of  faith,  to  interpret  it,  to  apply 
it  to  the  needs  of  successive  ages.  The  Church's  infallibility  is  a 
Divine  institution,  wise  and  reasonable.  Protestantism  rejected 
infallibility,  and  now  finds  itself  helpless  in  the  face  of  the  fact 
that  truths,  formerly  held  as  revealed,  and  often  even  inscribed 
on  the  official  confessions  of  faith,  are  being  abandoned  and  lost. 

Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique  (March  15)  :  The  Christian 
Meaning  of  the  Psalms,  by  H.  Lesetre.  It  is  evident  that  many 
ideas  expressed  in  the  Psalms  are  inferior  to  or  even  in  conflict 
with  those  expressed  in  the  Gospel.  For  instance,  the  views  therein 
found  concerning  the  future  life  are  very  incomplete.  The  Israel- 
ites looked  for  rewards  of  goodness  and  of  evil  in  this  life;  they 
heaped  tfierce  invectives  on  their  enemies.  In  what  sense  can  a 
Christian  recite  these  prayers?  He  can  thank  God  for  his  own 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  267 

greater  light.  He  can  be  sure  that  eternity  will  justify  God's  pres- 
ent dealings  with  men.  He  can  understand  that  true  happiness 
comes  only  from  a  conscience  at  peace  with  God,  and  that  not  even 
sinful  nations  will  be  allowed  long  to  prosper.  He  can  legitimately 
interpret  what  seem  to  be  curses  as  being  really  prophecies ;  yet  he 
may  also,  with  the  Church,  beg  God  to  deprive  the  wicked,  even 
at  the  cost  of  pain,  of  the  power  of  doing  evil.  Many  dogmas, 
hinted  at  in  the  Psalms,  can  be  made  clear  only  by  their  fuller 
statement  in  the  New  Testament. A.  Pons  contributes  a  com- 
ment on  and  excerpts  from  A  Dramatic  Meditation  on  the  Passion, 
composed  by  Gerson  for  one  of  his  sisters.  Gerson's  works  on 
the  Passion  won  him  while  still  alive  the  title  of  "  Doctor  of  Con- 
solation and  Hope." 

(April  i):  Was  Bernadette  Soubirous  Insane f  by  Dr.  de 
Grandmaison  de  Bruno.  The  charge  is  frequently  made  that  the 
girl  to  whom  the  Blessed  Virgin  appeared  at  Lourdes  was  hysterical, 
and  suffering  from  an  hallucination.  Though  doctors  are  not 
agreed  on  a  definition  of  hysteria,  it  is  clear  from  her  actions  that 
her  case  does  not  exhibit  the  characteristics  of  hysteria  proposed 
by  P.  Janet.  The  apparition  was  not  with  her  a  "  fixed  idea/' 
presenting  itself  in  an  exaggerated  manner  during  abnormal  con- 
scious states.  The  visions  did  not  appear  regularly,  nor  were  her 
words  or  actions  regularly  the  same.  She  was  open  to  impressions 
not  connected  with  the  vision;  and  afterwards  she  remembered 
clearly  all  that  had  occurred.  There  was  no  stage  of  preparation 
for  the  ecstasy.  The  lighting  up  of  her  face  was  not  a  grimace, 
and  did  not  suggest  hypnosis  but  the  supernatural.  Her  ecstasy 
was  not  necessarily  produced,  being  lacking  in  the  ninth  apparition. 
She  did  not  suffer  from  anaesthesia,  from  hyper-suggestibility,  from 
exaggerated  indifference  and  abstraction.  Doctors  during  her  life- 
time declared  that  she  did  not  suffer  from  hysteria. 

Etudes  Franciscaines  (April)  :  Epitaphs  on  His  Grey  Emi- 
nence, by  F.  Collaey,  O.M.C.,  contains  two  long,  satirical  Latin 
epitaphs  on  the  Capuchin  friend  of  Richelieu.  The  author  says  it 
is  clearly  proved  that  Father  Joseph,  though  thrice  dispensed,  con- 
formed to  his  Rule  as  far  as  possible ;  that  he  was  an  extraordinary 
spiritual  director  and  a  master  dialectician,  persuasive  and  peace- 
able, during  the  anti-Calvinistic  controversies  under  Louis  XIII. 
His  foreign  policy  aimed  at  the  pacification  of  Christendom,  and 
the  union  of  Christian  nations  under  the  presidency  of  France 


268  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [May, 

against  the  infidels.  To  do  this  he  had  to  accept  alliances  with 
non-Catholic  powers,  and  to  declare  war  on  Catholic  powers,  a 
policy  which  he  hated,  but  felt  compelled  to  adopt. 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  (March  13)  :  President  Wilson,  his 
career  and  opinions,  are  discussed  by  Mr.  Theodore  Stanton.  One 
point  on  which  the  writer  lays  great  stress  is  that  Wilson's  ideas 
on  constitutional  government  have  been  much  influenced  by  his 
admiration  for  English  statesmen ;  Burke  and  Bagehot  in  particular. 

La  Civilta  Cattolica  (February)  :  The  Gospel  'According  to 
St.  Mark:  Second  answer  of  the  Biblical  Commission  to  modern 
writers  who  pretend  that  the  end  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  Mark  has  not 
been  composed  by  St.  Peter's  disciple.  After  having  studied  the 
reasons  given  by  the  opponents,  reasons  taken  from  manuscripts, 
and  mistranslated  texts  of  the  Fathers,  the  Commission  answers  that 
the  conclusion  of  St.  Mark's  Gospel  is  inspired,  and  has  been  written 

by  that  same  disciple. A  Strange  Statement  Against  Teaching 

of  Religion  in  the  Schools:  To  those  who  launched  a  protest 
against  the  suppression  of  all  religious  teaching  of  the  schools 
on  the  ground  that  Italy  is,  according  to  the  Statute  "  a  Catholic 
State,"  the  Committee  answered  that  this  first  article  of  the  Con- 
stitution was,  in  fact,  abolished  by  the  evolution  of  the  consciences, 
and  that  the  State,  in  its  rule,  was  to  be  led  by  positivist  ideas  which 
are  exclusive  of  all  religious  dogmas. 


IRecent  Events, 

M.    Briand's    third    Ministry    remained    in 
France.  office  only  eight  weeks.     It  staked  its  exist- 

ence upon  the  Senate's  accepting  the  Elec- 
toral Reform  Bill  in  the  precise  form  in  which  it  had  been  passed 
by  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  This  the  Senate  refused  to  do.  It 
accepted  the  substitution  of  scrutin  de  liste  for  scrutin  d'arrondisse- 
ment,  but  refused  to  pass  the  method  of  proportional  representation 
by  means  of  the  electoral  quotient,  which  had  for  its  object  the 
securing  to  minorities  a  voice  in  legislation.  This  proposal,  if 
carried,  would  have  given  to  the  Right,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to 
the  Collective  Socialists,  on  the  other,  greater  power  and  influence. 
The  Socialist-Radicals,  the  strongest  of  the  Republican  Parties,  look 
upon  both  as  the  enemies  of  the  Republic.  Their  opinion  was 
shared  by  M.  Clemenceau,  and  he  made  himself  the  special  expo- 
nent of  this  view,  and  both  wrote  and  spoke  in  opposition  to  the 
proposal.  He  was  so  successful  that  M.  Briand's  Cabinet  added 
one  more  to  the  long  list  which  have  fallen  as  victims  to  his  attacks 
— a  success  so  marked  that  it  has  earned  for  him  the  name  of  the 
"  Old  Tiger." 

The  Senate  in  France  has  more  power  than  for  a  very  long 
period  the  House  of  Lords  has  possessed  in  England.  No  British 
ministry  has  ever  been  in  the  least  dependent  upon  the  good  will 
of  the  Upper  House.  Strange  to  say,  the  French  Senate  is  more 
radical  than  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  yet  it  is  not  elected 
directly  by  the  people.  The  mode  of  election  is  remotely  analo- 
gous to  that  hitherto  existing  in  this  country.  The  Munic- 
ipal Councils  and  the  Senators,  Deputies,  Councillors-General, 
and  District  Councillors  of  each  Department  choose  delegates,  and 
these  in  their  turn  elect  the  Senator  of  the  Department  for  a  nine 
years'  term  of  office.  This  is  the  body  that  has  rejected  the  bill 
passed  by  the  more  popular  House,  and  supported  by  the  govern- 
ment. The  new  President,  it  was  known,  was  an  ardent  supporter 
of  the  bill.  He  is  credited  with  being  a  strong  man,  willing  to  use 
all  his  powers.  These  include  the  right,  with  the  Senate's  consent, 
to  dissolve  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  It  was  at  first  thought 
this  course  might  have  been  taken.  Better  counsels  prevailed. 


270  RECENT  EVENTS  [May, 

Only  once  has  a  President  exercised  this  power  (on  the  celebrated 
seize  Mai),  and  then  with  disastrous  results  to  himself. 

After  the  usual  consultations,  M.  Barthou  undertook  the  form- 
ation of  a  Ministry.  Although  never  before  Prime  Minister,  M. 
Barthou  has  for  many  years  filled  important  offices  in  various 
governments.  Four  members  who  had  served  with  M.  Briand 
retain  office  in  the  new  Ministry,  which  includes  only  two  repre- 
sentatives of  the  party  which  was  responsible  for  the  defeat  of 
M.  Briand. 

The  programme  of  M.  Barthou  coincides  with  that  of  the 
defeated  government  in  demanding  three  years'  service  for  the 
army,  and  in  the  other  measures  for  defense  which  M.  Briand  had 
proposed.  As  to  Electoral  Reform,  as  both  branches  of  the  Legis- 
lature have  accepted  scrutin  de  liste,  that  will  be  proceeded  with. 
It  is  hoped  to  find  a  method  for  the  representation  of  minorities 
different  from  that  which  led  to  the  defeat  of  the  former  govern- 
ment. There  are  said  to  have  been  proposed  in  various  countries 
something  like  three  hundred  ways  in  which  representation  may  be 
given  to  the  minority  of  electors.  On  some  one  of  these  the 
French  government  will  fall  back. 

A  third  proposal  of  the  new  government  is  the 
defense  of  the  secular  school  (I'ecole  laique).  The  Cath- 
olics of  France  have  proved  themselves  so  wicked  as  to 
defend  their  own  schools  with  great  success.  This  is  treated  by 
the  government  as  an  attack  upon  those  established  by  the  State. 
It  accordingly  promises  the  inauguration  of  vigorous  measures  in 
defense  of  the  secular  schools.  Such  is  the  government's  pro- 
gramme. These  programmes,  however,  are  often  strangely  frus- 
trated. In  fact,  on  the  first  vote  of  confidence,  the  support  the  gov- 
ernment received  was  so  equivocal  that  the  expectation  was  formed 
of  an  immediate  resignation.  Although  this  was  avoided,  the 
general  opinion  is  that  it  will  not  be  very  long-lived,  and  that 
France  may  look  forward  to  a  swift  succession  of  ministries. 

With  regard  to  the  Army  Bill,  M.  Barthou's  Ministry  pledges 
itself  to  take  the  same  practical  measures  in  defense  of  France 
against  the  projected  increase  of  the  German  army  as  those  upon 
which  M.  Briand  had  decided.  Three  years'  service  for  all  arms 
is  to  be  revived,  with  no  exemptions  of  any  kind,  although  for 
young  men  preparing  for  professional  careers  certain  alleviations 
have 'been  admitted.  The  first  instalment  of  the  cost  of  the 
large  increase,  necessitated  by  their  lengthening  of  the  army  service, 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  271 

was  passed  by  the  Budget  Committee  with  very  little  hesitation. 
The  anti-militarist  movement,  which  was  strong  enough  to  bring 
about  the  shortening  of  the  term  of  service  in  1905,  has  yielded 
to  urgent  necessity. 

It  is  true  that  the  motive  alleged  for  the  German  increase  of 
its  army,  when  it  was  first  announced,  was  the  great  strength 
given  to  the  Slavs  by  the  success  of  the  Balkan  States — a  success 
which  at  once  greatly  weakened  Austria,  and  added  to  the  power  of 
Russia.  A  leading  paper  in  Germany,  the  Cologne  Gazette,  was 
however,  so  maladroit  as  to  reveal,  we  will  not  say  the  true  reason, 
but  what  will  be  one  of  the  results  of  German  action.  According 
to  this  journal,  the  necessity  for  the  new  Army  Bill  was  to  be 
explained  by  the  fact  that  Germany  was  menaced  by  France. 
"  When  sacrifices  are  demanded,  as  they  are  demanded  to-day, 
the  finger  must  be  pointed  plainly  to  the  point  whence  the  most 
immediate  peril  threatens  us.  That  is  France.  Never  has  the 
relationship  to  our  Western  neighbor  been  so  strained  as  to-day, 
never  has  the  idea  of  revenge  been  exhibited  there  so  nakedly." 
So  untrue  were  these  statements  that  they  were  disavowed  by  high 
authority  within  a  few  days.  But  they  served  well  the  purpose  of 
the  French  government  in  giving  support  to  its  demands.  Not 
that  it  stood  in  need  of  much  support,  for  the  nation  as  a  whole 
was  ready  enough  to  make  any  sacrifice  in  defense  of  its  territory. 

The  Socialists,  however,  led  by  M.  Jaures,  criticized  the  proposal 
made  by  the  government.  Their  object  is  to  disband  the  regular 
army,  and  to  substitute  for  it  a  national  militia,  formed  upon  the 
model  of  that  which  exists  in  Switzerland.  Nor  do  a  few  of  the 
Radicals  see  quite  eye  to  eye  with  the  government,  even  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  party  who  have  entered  the  ministry  having  criti- 
cized certain  features.  There  is  no  doubt  that  hardship  will  be  en- 
tailed by  the  devotion  of  so  long  a  period  to  the  military  service. 
For  example,  the  classes  devoted  to  skilled  labor,  such  as  the  making 
of  watches,  in  which  delicate  manipulation  is  required,  will  suffer 
from  the  heavy-handed  toil  demanded  during  army  service.  Stu- 
dents in  the  university  too  are  affected :  they  feel  that  the  measure 
is  likely  to  exert  a  profound  influence  upon  the  intellectual  and 
economic  life  of  the  country,  and  that  it  may  even  cause  a  setback 
to  French  civilization,  and  also  that  it  is  open  to  serious  technical 
objection.  Among  these  critics  are  M.  Anatole  France  and  M. 
Ernest  Lavisse.  It  is,  therefore,  desired  that  for  students  the 
military  service  may  be  postponed  to  the  age  of  twenty-seven. 


272  RECENT  EVENTS  [May, 

There  are  some  who  see  in  the  proposal  an  attempt  of  the  Reac- 
tionaries to  saddle  the  country  with  a  large  military  force,  to  be 
used  as  a  means  for  securing  their  return  to  power.  There  seems 
however,  to  be  no  reason  to  doubt  the  determination  of  the  nation 
to  make  all  the  sacrifices  required,  and  not  to  carp  at  any  measures 
proposed  for  this  object.  The  opposition,  however,  to  three  years' 
service  has  proved  itself  strong  enough  to  prevent  the  proposal 
being  rushed  through  so  quickly  as  to  deny  due  consideration 
and  discussion. 

It  is  not  merely  upon  the  army  that  France  proposes  to  spend 
money  for  the  purpose  of  securing  greater  efficiency.  To  the  in- 
crease of  the  navy  no  less  than  one  hundred  millions  is  asked 
for  by  the  new  government.  Three  additional  battleships  are 
to  be  constructed,  the  existing  programme  is  to  be  accelerated, 
and  the  aeronautical  service  is  to  be  largely  extended.  To  form 
a  just  judgment  of  the  sacrifices  which  these  proposals  entail 
upon  the  French  people,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  burden 
of  taxation  in  France  is  already  far  heavier  than  that  which  is 
borne  by  the  German  people.  Those  who  are  interested  in  this 
matter  will  find  it  discussed  in  detail  in  an  article  on  "  La  Force 
Financiere  des  Etats"  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Monde  s  for  May, 
1912. 

Although  a  matter  of  no  international  interest,  M.  Lepine, 
Prefect  of  the  Paris  Police  since  1893,  has  been  so  con- 
spicuous a  figure  in  Paris,  and  so  efficient  a  public  servant,  that 
any  account  of  French  affairs  which  made  no  mention  of  his  retire- 
ment would  be  very  incomplete.  He  has  chosen  the  present  time, 
when  he  thinks  the  era  of  turbulent  manifestations  is  closed, 
especially  those  promoted  by  the  Confederation  Generate  du  Travail, 
to  seek  the  rest  he  has  so  well  deserved.  He  is,  however,  willing, 
in  the  event  of  his  services  being  needed,  to  return  to  the  post  of 
danger  at  the  shortest  notice.  "  I  have  a  telephone  in  the  flat 
which  I  have  just  taken"  is  his  last  message  to  the  nation.  So 
important  is  the  Post  of  Prefect  of  the  Police  of  Paris  that  M. 
Lepine  resigned  the  Governor-Generalship  of  Algeria  in  order  to 
take  upon  himself  its  duties. 

The  relations  of  France  with  all  her  neighbors,  except  Ger- 
many, have  undergone  no  change.  Considerable  discussion  has 
taken  place  in  Great  Britain  as  to  the  true  meaning  of  the  Entente 
Cordistle  with  France,  whether  or  no  it  involved  an  undisclosed 
obligation  in  certain  contingencies  to  dispatch  a  military  force  for 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  273 

operations  on  the  Continent.  This  question  has  been  settled  by 
the  statement  of  Mr.  Asquith,  that  Great  Britain  is  not  under 
any  obligation,  which  is  not  public  and  known  to  Parliament,  to 
compel  it  to  take  part  in  any  war.  There  are,  he  said,  no  un- 
published agreements  which  restrict  or  hamper  Great  Britain's 
freedom.  It  is  at  the  same  time  fully  recognized  that  in  the  event 
of  the  existent  balance  of  power  being  endangered,  by  the  aggres- 
sive action  of  any  nation,  England  would  range  herself,  by  force 
of  arms  if  necessary,  in  defense  of  the  maintenance  of  the  European 
equilibrium.  It  has  always  been  the  policy  of  Great  Britain  to 
resist  the  undue  predominance  of  any  one  Power.  A  well-in- 
formed French  journalist,  M.  Tardieu,  vouches  for  the  statement 
that  England  spontaneously  offered  to  place  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  men  at  the  disposal  of  France  in  1905,  1908,  and  1911. 
France  is  proceeding  with  her  wrork  in  Morocco  in  a  way 
which  is  said  to  be  satisfactory,  although  there  are  tribes  which 
have  been  offering  resistance,  and  which  have  been  fighting  with  the 
French  forces.  There  is  no  longer,  however,  any  general  uprising. 
A  loan  is  being  raised  for  the  various  purposes  which  the  advance 
of  civilization  requires. 

The  various  bills   for  the  increase  of  the 
Germany.  Germany  Army,  and  of  the  naval  and  mili- 

tary expenditure,  which  have  been  so  long 

talked  about,  were  presented  to  the  Reichstag  at  the  end  of  March. 
The  increase  demanded  by  the  government  is  even  greater  than  was 
expected.  Four  thousand  ofiicers  are  to  be  added  to  the  existing 
forces,  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  thousand  non-commissioned 
ofiicers  and  men,  and  twenty-seven  thousand  horses.  About  sixty- 
three  thousand  new  recruits  will  be  required  annually.  Between 
now  and  the  end  of  1915  the  cost  of  this  increase  will  be  something 
between  three  hundred  and  three  hundred  and  twenty-five  millions. 
The  government  proposes  to  raise  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions 
of  this  amount  by  a  method  which  recalls  the  proceedings  of  the 
rulers  during  the  Middle  Ages.  Capital  and  large  incomes  are 
to  be  subjected  to  a  levy  of  one-half  per  cent  on  all  fortunes  above 
two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  It  is  said  that  one  of  the 
Krupps  expects  to  be  called  upon  to  pay  some  three  millions  and 
a  half  as  his  share.  New  taxes  will  have  to  be  imposed  in  addition 
to  this  levy.  The  exact  character  of  these  has  not  yet  been  dis- 
closed. A  fierce  contest  is  expected  to  take  place  in  the  Reichstag, 
VOL.  xcvu. — 18. 


274  RECENT  EVENTS  [May, 

for  no  one  class  will  be  willing  to  shoulder  the  additional  burdens. 
In  fact,  to  judge  by  recent  experience,  every  class  will  be  most 
anxious  to  throw  it  off  upon  the  rest. 

It  is  looked  upon  as  practically  certain  that  while  the  desired 
increase  of  the  army  will  be  voted,  a  large  majority  in  the  Reich- 
stag will  insist  upon  important  amendments  of  the  government's 
financial  proposals.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  it  is  not  proposed 
to  issue  a  loan  to  cover  any  part  of  the  expense.  The  reason  given 
by  the  government  is  that  the  service  of  such  a  loan  would  have 
serious  consequences  in  the  present  state  of  the  money  market. 
The  real  reason  seems  to  be  that  the  government  thinks 
itself  unable  to  raise  a  loan  of  so  vast  an  amount.  A  short  time 
ago  treasury  bonds,  which  were  issued  for  the  sum  of  a  hun- 
dred millions,  were  only  subscribed  for  to  half  that  amount,  and 
of  the  amount  taken  the  private  subscriptions  were  infinitesimal. 

The  British  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  in  a  speech  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  made  an  eloquent  appeal  for  what  he  called  a 
"  naval  holiday."  Having  pointed  out  that  further  competition 
would  have  the  effect  of  increasing  the  burdens  of  the  people 
both  of  Germany  and  Great  Britain,  without  altering  their  relative 
positions,  he  declared  that  if  Germany  would  reduce  her  squadrons, 
Great  Britain  would  make  a  frank  and  loyal  response.  He  added, 
however,  that  pending  such  an  arrangement,  British  development 
would  proceed  with  all  dispatch.  Nor  would  she  be  content  with  a 
small  margin,  for  a  margin  which  was  not  sufficient  to  secure 
victory  would  be  insufficient  to  maintain  peace.  Mr.  Churchill's 
"  naval  holiday  "  for  a  year,  however,  met  with  somewhat  scorn- 
ful treatment  in  Germany.  Those  who  looked  upon  it  as  sincere, 
thought  it  to  be  Utopian,  and  many  doubted  its  sincerity.  It 
was  taken  to  mean  that  England  wanted  a  breathing  space  during 
the  present  activity  in  ship  building,  as  this  involves  a  shortage 
of  labor,  and  a  consequential  increase  of  expense. 

The  martial  feelings  of  Germany,  as  well  as  her  animosity 
against  France,  have  been  fostered  by  the  celebrations  of  the  War  of 
Liberation  in  1813,  which  have  been  taking  place  throughout 
the  Empire.  One  of  the  chief  events  was  the  commemoration  of 
King  Frederick  William  the  Third's  appeal,  "An  mein  Volk." 
Religious  services  were  held  in  many  places;  in  fact  the  appeal 
to  religious  motives  was  most  marked.  On  one  of  the  wreaths 
placed  by  the  Emperor  on  the  sarcophagus  of  King  Frederick 
William  was  the  inscription :  "  I  believe  firmly  in  God,  and,  there- 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  275 

fore,  in  a  moral  ordering  of  the  world."  In  the  address  made 
to  the  troops  by  his  Imperial  Majesty,  the  same  appeal  was  em- 
phasized. It  was  through  God's  Providence  that  the  King  had 
made  his  appeal  to  his  people.  It  was  to  God's  blessing  that 
the  victory  was  due.  "  Fear  of  God,  loyalty  to  the  King,  love  of 
the  Fatherland,  as  perfect  as  was  shown  in  the  great  times,  must 
make  the  army  unconquerable.  But  victory  comes  from  God. 
Therefore,  let  the  motto  of  the  heroes  of  the  Wars  of  Liberation 
be  ours  now  and  for  ever — 'God  with  us.' ' 

Almost  all  the  energies  of  the  Dual  Mon- 
Austria-Hungary.       archy  have  been  engrossed  in  the  prepara- 
tions for  war,  of  which  the  struggle  in  the 

Balkans  has  been  the  occasion.  Time,  however,  has  been  found  in 
Hungary  for  the  Franchise  Reform  Bill,  which  has  been  promised 
for  so  many  years.  The  third  reading  of  the  bill  was  carried  in  the 
early  part  of  March,  and  it  was  then  considered  certain  that  it  would 
be  adopted  by  the  House  of  Magnates,  and  receive  the  sanction 
of  the  Crown.  The  Bill  is  a  very  complicated  measure,  and  no 
one  can  say  how  it  will  work. 

The  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight  clauses  of  which  it  consists 
are  said  to  constitute  such  a  maze  of  definitions,  restrictions,  and 
specifications  that  no  clear  idea  even  of  its  meaning  can  be  obtained, 
even  if  no  account  is  taken  of  the  influence  of  returning  officers 
and  electoral  commissions.  The  electors  are  divided  into  two  cate- 
gories. Those  who  have  passed  the  sixth  standard  of  a  primary 
school,  or  the  highest  class  of  a  secondary  school,  and  pay  some- 
thing like  seven  dollars  a  year  in  direct  taxation,  are  entitled  to  vote 
on  the  completion  of  their  twenty-fourth  year.  Others  can  vote 
only  after  the  completion  of  their  thirtieth  year,  but  must  have 
at  least  five  years  of  Hungarian  citizenship,  and  at  least  one  year's 
residential  qualification,  unless  they  be  officials,  professors,  pastors, 
or  priests.  The  bill  is  looked  upon  as  a  mere  caricature  of  Electoral 
Reform.  Every  detail  is  inspired  with  the  determination  to  main- 
tain at  all  costs  that  supremacy  of  the  Magyar  element  over  the 
Slav  to  which  that  element  has  no  rightful  claim. 

At  the  moment  that  these  lines  are  being 

The  Balkan  War.      written,  no  peace  has  as  yet  been  concluded 

between    the    Balkan    Allies    and    Turkey. 

Adrianople  having  fallen,  as  well  as  Yanina,  and  every  effort  of 


276  RECENT  EVENTS  [May, 

the  Turks  to  advance  beyond  the  Tchataldja  lines  having  been 
frustrated,  no  hopes  can  be  entertained,  even  by  the  most  zealous 
Turcophil,  that  anything  can  be  gained  for  that  Power  by  a 
continuance  of  the  war.  In  fact  she  put  herself  some  time  ago 
in  the  hands  of  the  Powers.  After  a  considerable  delay  the  Allies 
accepted  their  mediation,  although  they  made  important  res- 
ervations. The  boundary  proposed  by  the  Powers  would 
be  treated  as  a  basis  for  negotiation,  not  as  a  definite  settlement. 
The  Allies  would  insist  on  an  indemnity,  but  its  amount  might  be 
settled  by  a  commission  appointed  for  that  purpose.  The  JEgean 
Islands  were  to  be  ceded  to  the  Allies.  If,  as  is  reported,  an 
armistice  has  been  concluded  between  the  States  and  Turkey,  in 
a  few  days  the  war  may  be  expected  to  end  upon  the  lines  laid 
down  in  these  conditions. 

The  differences  between  Rumania  and  Bulgaria,  which  at  one 
time  it  was  feared  would  lead  to  war,  have  been  settled.  At  a 
conference  held  in  St.  Petersburg  of  the  representatives  of  the  two 
countries,  an  agreement  was  reached,  and  the  questions  at  issue 
definitely  arranged.  The  precise  terms  have  not,  however,  been 
published. 

The  outstanding  question  is  the  possession  of  Skutari.  Monte- 
negro was  the  first  of  the  Allies  to  declare  war,  and  also  the  first 
to  meet  with  successes.  These  successes,  however,  were  of  no  great 
value,  and  in  the  object  to  which  she  attached  supreme  importance 
— the  taking  of  Skutari — she  has  been  unsuccessful.  The  town  has 
resisted  every  effort,  and  still  remains  in  the  possession  of  the  Turk. 
The  Powers,  in  settling  the  boundary  of  the  Albanian  State,  which, 
in  their  inscrutable  wisdom,  they  have  determined  to  form,  have 
decided  that  Skutari  is  to  be  included  in  the  new  Albania.  Other 
towns  have  been  given,  either  to  Montenegro  or  to  Servia,  as  a 
compensation.  Montenegro,  however,  insists  upon  her  claim. 

The  population  of  Skutari  is  undoubtedly  Albanian.  There- 
fore, this  claim  is  without  foundation.  However,  she  would  not 
yield,  and  the  people  of  Russia  sympathized  with  her.  The  spectacle 
has,  therefore,  been  seen  of  the  Great  Powers  of  Europe,  if  such 
they  can  any  longer  be  called — Austria-Hungary,  Germany,  France, 
Italy,  and  Great  Britain — forming  a  combined  fleet  to  coerce  the 
minute  state  of  Montenegro.  It  is  said  that  they  have  seized 
the  Royal  Yacht. 

The  whole  course  of  the  present  war  is,  indeed,  an  instance  of 
the  fact  that  little  things  of  the  world  are  often  chosen  to  confound 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  277 

the  great.  Before  the  war  began  the  Great  Powers  solemnly  warned 
the  Allied  States  that  they  would  not  be  allowed,  whatever  might 
be  the  result  of  the  war,  to  add  a  foot  of  ground  to  their  respective 
territories.  From  this  position,  however,  they  at  once  receded 
after  the  first  victories  of  the  Allies.  It  has  been  given  to  these 
small  states,  who  have  a  population  of  two  or  three  hundred  thou- 
sand more  than  ten  millions,  and  scarcely  any  financial  means, 
to  drive  out  of  Europe  the  Turk,  who  has  defied  for  centuries 
all  the  Powers  of  Europe  with  their  tens  of  millions  of  inhabitants 
and  unlimited  resources. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  how  great  are  the  events  of  which  we  are 
the  witnesses.  Years  before  Columbus  came  to  this  country  the 
Turk  has  been  in  possession  of  the  districts  from  which  he  has 
just  been  driven  out.  Adrianople  became  his  capital  in  1361.  All 
the  power  of  Europe  has  for  centuries  proved  itself  unable  to 
expel  him.  For  the  whole  of  this  long  period,  he  has  been  a  con- 
tinuous blight  and  curse  to  the  land  and  to  its  inhabitants.  Only 
a  short  time  ago  the  prospect  was  but  slight  that  an  end  would 
ever  be  put  to  his  hateful  domination.  That  this,  the  unexpected 
destruction  of  his  power,  has  been  effected  by  the  least  expected 
of  means,  is  a  reason  for  being  hopeful  for  the  overturn  of  the 
other  tyrannies  under  which  various  parts  of  the  world  seem 
to  be  hopelessly  groaning. 

The  prospect  of   an   improvement  of   the 
Persia.  state  of  things  in  Persia  is  not  very  bright. 

The  government  has  proved  itself  quite  in- 
capable of  preserving  order  in  the  South,  while  in  the  North 
that  two  roads  are  being  kept  open  for  commerce  is  due  to  the 
presence  of  sixteen  thousand  Russian  troops. 

The  downfall  of  the  old  regime  was  caused  not  only  by  the 
intolerable  tyranny  and  unbridled  rapacity  of  the  rulers,  but  also 
by  the  practice  of  the  same  vices  by  the  aristocracy  as  a  whole. 
The  constitutional  movement  failed  to  bring  to  the  front  any  men 
of  talent  belonging  to  the  middle  class,  or  anyone  capable  of  taking 
charge  of  affairs.  The  former  princes,  nobles,  and  governors 
succeeded  in  maintaining  their  former  position,  and  in  imposing 
themselves  and  their  methods  upon  the  state.  According  to  a  well- 
informed  correspondent :  "  Intrigue  was  their  only  art.  Their 
sole  inspiring  motive  was  greed,  and  the  embezzlement  of  public 
funds  from  a  stricken  treasury  was  their  principal  pursuit 


278  RECENT  EVENTS  [May, 

The  great  men  of  Teheran  combined  to  form  a  corn  ring,  and  not 
all  the  miseries  of  the  population  from  the  famine  price  of  bread 
could  make  them  forego  a  single  kran  of  their  ill-gotten  gains." 
This  procedure  is  so  habitual,  so  much  the  common  doctrine  and 
practice,  that  it  excited  no  surprise,  and  met  with  no  condemnation. 
This  canker,  which  came  from  above,  has  spread  downwards 
through  all  classes,  the  nomad  tribes  being  the  only  communities  in 
which  honesty  of  any  kind  is  practiced.  The  bulk  of  the  people 
are  cowardly,  and  easily  become  the  prey  of  a  few  warlike  tribes, 
which  the  government  is  unable  to  control,  and  who  are  continually, 
when  not  at  war  one  with  another,  engaged  in  the  pillaging  of 
caravans,  or  in  promiscuous  marauding. 

It  was  to  this  state  that  the  despotism  of  the  Kajar  family 
reduced  the  country,  and  it  is  little  to  be  wondered  at  that  in  the 
midst  of  such  universal  corruption  and  disorganization,  the  con- 
stitutional movement  has  so  far  been  unable  to  effect  any  marked 
improvement.  The  fact,  however,  that  the  attempt  was  made,  and 
indeed  is  still  being  made,  shows  that  not  every  spark  of  energy 
has  been  crushed  out  or  suppressed. 

The  Mejliss  was  made  up  of  men,  who,  while  they  were  in 
need  of  experience,  were  generally  men  of  integrity.  It  recognized, 
too,  its  own  limitations,  that  it  stood  in  need  of  a  guidance  which  no 
one  in  the  country  was  willing  to  give,  not  even  the  Cabinet,  from 
whom  such  guidance  was  to  have  been  expected.  When  Mr.  Shuster 
was  appointed  Treasurer-General,  it  showed  itself  willing  to  do  all 
he  required.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  interference  of  Russia, 
in  which  Great  Britain  so  culpably  concurred,  there  was  a  good 
prospect  that  a  great  step  towards  real  reform  would  have  been 
taken.  The  fact  that  foreign  nations  have,  or  at  least  claim  to 
have,  the  right  to  interfere  in  the  internal  affairs  of  the  country 
adds,  of  course,  enormously  to  the  difficulty  of  the  situation.  This 
interference  proved  fatal  to  Mr.  Shuster's  plans.  Since  their 
abandonment  no  improvement  has  been  made.  The  partition  of 
Persia  by  Russia  and  Great  Britain  has,  however,  not  taken  place, 
nor  in  fact  does  it  seem  to  be  likely.  So  far  at  all  events  as  the 
last-named  Power  is  concerned,  a  solemn  disclaimer  of  any  such 
desire  has  recently  been  made  by  Sir  Edward  Grey.  The  number 
of  those  in  England  who  wish  to  add  to  the  extent  of  the  British 
Empire,  and  to  its  cares  and  responsibilities,  is  very  small. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  learn  the  intentions  of  Russia.  Where  one 
man  is  the  ruler,  he  is  subject  to  so  many  various  influences  that 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  279 

no  event  is  calculable,  as  his  hand  may  be  forced  by  those  who 
are  powerful  behind  the  scenes.  But  so  far  as  is  known,  Russia 
shares  with  Great  Britain  the  intention  to  maintain  the  integrity 
of  Persian  territory,  at  least  for  the  time  being.  The  two  countries 
have,  in  fact,  recently  made  small  loans  to  the  government  in  order 
to  enable  it  to  suppress  disorder,  and  this  has  been  done  without 
requiring  that  the  external  control  of  the  expenditure  should  be  left 
in  their  own  hands.  This  was  done  in  order  to  manifest  their  desire 
of  not  further  interfering  in  internal  affairs.  While  the  Russian 
forces  still  remain  in  Northern  Persia,  the  British  force,  which  had 
until  lately  been  at  Shiraz  in  the  South,  has  been  sent  back  to  India. 
The  Gendarmerie  which  is  under  the  command  of  Swedish  officers, 
will,  it  is  hoped,  be  able  to  maintain  order  in  the  South— at  least 
a  further  experiment  is  to  be  made. 

The  Regent  is  still  absent  from  his  post,  recuperating  in 
Europe.  On  the  occasion  of  the  Persian  New  Year,  in  telegraphing 
the  customary  congratulations,  he  added  that  he  blessed  the  day 
which  was  now  approaching  when  the  child  Shah  would  .take  the 
reins  of  government  into  his  own  hands,  and  thereby  bring  increased 
strength  to  the  country.  The  Shah's  reply  conveyed  a  gentle  re- 
buke to  the  absentee  regent.  After  expressing  his  thanks,  his 
majesty  said  that,  until  he  was  able  to  assume  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment, the  interests  of  the  country  would  be  best  served  by 
the  Regent's  return.  The  Regent,  however,  still  keeps  away.  The 
ex-Shah,  who  is  in  exile,  is,  it  is  said,  anxious  to  become  the 
savior  of  his  country.  The  Mejliss  continues  in  abeyance,  while 
the  government,  so  far  as  its  personnel  is  concerned,  is,  in  Sir 
Edward  Grey's  opinion,  the  best  it  is  possible  to  obtain. 

Concessions  have  been  granted  to  Russian  firms,  which,  of 
course,  receive  the  support  of  their  government,  for  railways 
from  Julfa  to  Tabriz,  and  from  the  latter  place  to  Kazvin.  Nego- 
tiations are  proceeding  for  a  similar  concession  to  British  firms 
for  a  railway  in  the  part  of  Persia  which  British  interests  pre- 
dominate. The  project  of  a  railway  to  connect  the  Russian  system 
with  that  of  India  is  still  under  the  consideration  of  the  Council 
appointed  to  study  the  matter. 


With  Our  Readers. 

AT  the  root  of  the  agitation  for  a  change  of  name  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Qiurch,  lies  the  desire  on  the  part  of  many  members 
of  that  Church  to  be  more  Catholic.  Some  seek  a  closer  resemblance 
merely  in  externals;  some  in  doctrine  and  in  spirit.  Some  honestly 
comfort  themselves  with  the  thought  that  their  Church  really  answers 
the  claims  of  Scripture  and  tradition;  that  a  majority  are  in  possession 
who,  because  they  are  Protestants,  prevent  a  true  expression  of  the 
real  Catholic  spirit  of  the  Church.  It  is  strange  that,  knowing  the 
past  and  present  history  of  their  Church  as  they  do,  they  can  so  think. 
But — even  if  a  wide  experience  were  lacking — a  work  like  Father 
Maturin's  Price  of  Unity  would  suffice  to  show  how  many  can  for  years 
honestly  deceive  themselves.  Members  of  Ihe  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church  who  are  so  minded  clearly  see  that  their  Church,  as  it  is  to-day, 
is  not  Catholic.  The  very  evident  contradictions,  both  of  doctrine 
and  practice,  in  different  churches  of  that  supposedly  one  Church; 
the  questioning  and  the  denial  of  fundamental  dogmas ;  inability  after 
repeated  discussions  and  conventions  to  agree  on  fundamental  and 
vital  points  of  dogma  and  morality;  the  absence  of  definite  authority 
without  which  unity  and  true  life  cannot  be,  have  aroused  the  more 
serious  and  earnest  souls  to  a  keen  realization  of  the  situation. 
Something  must  be  done,  ere  their  Church  is  swept  away  by  doctrinal 
indifference  and  moral  laxity.  "  Change  the  name,"  is  their  cry.  "  Do 
away  with  the  word  Protestant.  Make  our  Church  more  like  that 
other  Church  that  stands  preeminently  in  doctrine  and  practice  for  the 
definite  teachings  of  Christ." 

Many  who  have  been  so  aroused,  and  who  have  lent  their  voices 
to  such  a  cry,  have  eventually  seen  that  even  if  the  label  is  changed, 
the  contents  remain  the  same. 

The  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  has  a  true  name :  it  is  essentially 
Protestant.  In  its  origin  and  its  continued  life,  it  is  a  protest  against 
the  Catholic  Church.  The  Catholic  Church  owns  the  Bishop  of  Rome, 
the  Pope,  as  its  head.  It  believes  him  to  be  the  Vicar  of  Christ 
upon  earth:  the  supreme  authority  in  all  matters  spiritual.  The 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church  does  not  believe  this;  has  never  believed 
it,  and  its  genesis  was  owing  to  a  protest  against  this  very  belief. 
The  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  believes  in  no  visible  power  as  an 
ultimate  authority,  infallibly  protected  by  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  which  we  are  obliged  to  accept  and  believe. 

The  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  practically  teaches  the  right  of 
every  individual  to  his  own  private  judgment.  The  Scripture  alone 
as  the  sole  rule  of  faith  is  the  teaching  that  makes  it  essentially 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  281 

Protestant.  For  example,  the  Chicago-Lambeth  Articles,  adopted  by 
the  General  Convention  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  Chicago 
in  1886,  were  an  attempt  at  a  summary  of  the  fundamental  doctrines 
of  Christianity.  In  1888  these  same  articles  were  adopted  by  the 
Lambeth  Conference,  presided  over  by  the  late  Archbishop  Benson, 
and  attended  by  one  hundred  and  forty-five  Bishops  of  the  Anglican 
Church.  These  articles  read: 

"The  Holy  Scripture  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  as  containing  all 
things  necessary  to  salvation,  and  as  being  the  rule  and  ultimate  standard 
of  faith;  the  Apostles'  Creed  as  the  baptismal  symbol,  and  the  Nicene  Creed 
as  the  sufficient  statement  of  the  Christian  faith;  the  two  sacraments  ordained 
by  Christ  Himself — baptism  and  the  Supper  of  the  Lord — ministered  with 
unfailing  use  of  Christ's  words  of  institution  and  of  the  elements  ordained 
by  Him;  the  historic  episcopate  locally  adapted  in  the  methods  of  its  adminis- 
tration to  the  varying  needs  of  the  nations  and  peoples  called  of  God  into 
the  unity  of  His  Church." 

The  fifteen  Protestant  Episcopal  rectors  of  New  York  City  who 
addressed  an  emphatic  protest  against  a  change  of  name  to  Bishop 
Tuttle  of  Missouri,  were,  therefore,  historically  consistent.  They  are 
Protestants,  and  they  politely  veil  their  antagonism  to  the  Catholic 
Church  by  speaking  of  it  as  the  Church  whose  name  suggests  tyranny. 
It  may  of  course  if  one  is  not  a  Catholic,  for  its  claims  are  absolute. 
And  Thomas  Nelson  Page  is  also  consistent  when  he  writes,  in  some 
temper  and  bias,  it  must  he  said,  "  What  we  request  with  great  firm- 
ness is  that  they  (who  desire  a  change  of  name)  keep  their  hands  off 
the  Protestant  principle  of  this  Church."  "  This  Church  got  its 

Christianity  as  Protestant at  the  hands  of  the  great  Protestant 

body  of  Europe The  Episcopal  portion  of  its  name  was  descrip- 
tive, the  Protestant  portion  was  fundamental.  It  was  called  Prot- 
estant by  the  bishops  and  the  writers  because  it  was  protestant." 

It  is  difficult  in  the  face  of  these  statements,  official  and  unofficial, 
to  understand  the  position  of  Dr.  Manning,  the  head  of  Trinity  Church, 
New  York.  Dr.  Manning  calls  the  word  "  Protestant "  ugly.  The 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church  he  says  is  "  a  part  of  the  ancient  historic 
Catholic  Church."  Of  course  if  it  is,  one  must  forget  the  word 
"  Protestant."  If  one  wishes  to  be  Catholic  there  is  but  one  way, 
and  that  there  is  but  one  way  is  attested  by  nineteen  hundred  years 
of  history. 


1T)ELIGIOUS  indifferentism — the  open  door  to  secularism  is  un- 
-^  doubtedly  the  greatest  evil  of  our  day.  When  a  definite  and  real 
Christianity  goes  out,  the  world  comes  in.  Latitudinarianism,  liberal- 
ism, modernism,  are  disintegrating  forces  that  eat  away  the  very  found- 
ations of  any  organization  into  which  they  gain  entrance.  In  the 
non-Catholic  religious  bodies  they  have  worked  so  successfully  that 


2&z  WITH  OUR  READERS  [May, 

it  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  to  hear  dogmatic  Christianity  decried  from 
their  pulpits ;  and  a  creedless  religion  and  a  merely  humanitarian  Christ 
preached  as  the  essence  of  Christianity. 

The  earnest  lover  of  our  Blessed  Lord  and  of  His  Church  longs 
to  see  the  light  of  His  Truth  spread  through  all  the  world,  to  enlighten 
those  who  sit  in  darkness.  As  their  darkness  becomes  more  and  more 
intense,  so  much  the  more  is  he  exercised  and  "  pressed  on  by  a 
charity  "  that  hastens  fastest  where  the  need  is  greatest. 

It  is  easier  to  bring  to  the  true  Fold  a  Christian  who  conscien- 
tiously believes  in  dogmatic  religion  than  one  who  has  no  definite 
belief.  In  truth  the  stronger  his  convictions,  the  more  ardent  his 
positive  belief,  the  more  likely  is  it  that  he  may  be  led  to  accept 
the  whole  of  Christ's  revelation. 

But  for  the  indifferentist,  the  man  who  answers  that  one  re- 
ligion is  as  good  as  another,  that  we  are  all  going  to  heaven  by 
different  roads,  there  is  really  little  hope.  He  has  no  convictions, 
and  he  has  not  the  strength  to  see  that  he  should  have  convictions. 
Compromise  has  taken  out  his  backbone,  and  he  cannot  see  that  anyone 
should  be  obliged  to  sit  up  straight. 

Our  missionary  labor  may  well  be  extended,  therefore,  not  only  in 
striving  directly  to  bring  into  the  Church  all  who  may  be  led  by  God's 
grace  to  come;  but  also  in  doing  all  that  we  can  to  fight  the  spirit  of 
indifferentism  and  of  agnosticism;  the  spirit  of  irreligion  and  secular- 
ism. By  arousing  others  to  a  declaration  of  a  positive  religious  creed ; 
of  their  own  belief  in  that  creed ;  by  making  the  leaders  of  the  denom- 
inations and  their  followers  realize  that  they  must  admit  the  necessity 
of  dogmatic  truth  unless  the  world  is  to  be  dechristianized,  much  good 
work  may  be  done.  If  side  by  side  with  this  there  is  presented, 
without  animus  or  antagonism,  the  positive  truth  of  the  Catholic 
Faith  with  its  harmony  and  unity,  that  very  presentation  will  lead 
many  to  see  what  they  have  never  seen  before;  perhaps  lead  them  to 
accept  that  Beauty  of  Truth  which  is  ever  ancient  and  yet  ever  new. 

"  We  should  make  all  possible  endeavor,"  wrote  Leo  XIII.,  "  that 
the  men  of  every  race  and  clime  should  be  called  and  moved  to 
embrace  the  unity  of  divine  faith."  We  should  all  be  united  by  the 
bond  of  mutual  charity,  even  though  perfect  charity  cannot  reign 
where  minds  do  not  agree  in  faith.  Yet  to  all  who  differ  from  us, 
our  hearts  may  send  the  appeal,  "  Let  us  all  meet  in  the  unity  of  faith 
and  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God.  Suffer  that  we  should 
invite  you  to  the  unity  which  has  ever  existed  in  the  Catholic  Church 
and  can  never  fail;  suffer  that  we  should  lovingly  hold  out  our  hand 
to  you.  The  Church,  as  the  common  Mother  of  all,  has  long  been 
calling  you  back  to  her;  the  Catholics  of  the  world  await  you  with 
brotherly  love,  that  you  may  render  holy  worship  to  God  together 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  283 

with  us,  united  in  perfect  charity  by  the  profession  of  one  Gospel, 
one  faith,  and  one  hope." 

And  in  this  spirit,  we  extend  to  a  new  magazine,  entitled  The 
Constructive  Quarterly,  our  cordial  good  wishes.  Its  object  is  to  strive 
to  have  all  Christians  make  common  warfare  against  the  common 
enemy  of  the  day.  It  seeks  to  promote  a  wider  mutual  knowledge 
and  fellowship.  It  does  not  seek  through  compromise  to  work  out 
a  meaningless  unity.  It  champions  dogmatic  conviction ;  and  demands 
that  the  teaching  and  doctrine  of  every  denomination  discussed  shall  be 
stated  with  absolute  integrity.  It  is  therefore  constructive;  hopeful, 
and  a  welcome  antagonist  of  such  a  destructive  and  agnostic  organ 
as  the  Hibbert  Journal.  The  venture  is  necessarily  experimental,  and 
the  history  of  The  Constructive  Quarterly  can  be  the  only  answer 
to  its  success  or  failure.  But  the  spirit  that  prompts  it  is  one  that 
should  receive  our  good  will  and  our  cooperation.  For  again  we 
recall  to  mind  the  words  of  that  prophetical  leader,  Leo  XIII.,  "  In 
order  to  bring  about  this  concord,"  he  wrote  speaking  of  the  Reunion 
of  Christendom,  "  and  spread  abroad  the  benefits  of  the  Christian 
revelation,  the  present  is  the  most  seasonable  time;  for  never  before 
have  the  sentiments  of  human  brotherhood  penetrated  so  deeply  into 
the  souls  of  men,  and  never  in  any  age  has  man  been  seen  to  seek 
out  his  fellowmen  more  eagerly  in  order  to  know  them  better  and 
to  help  them." 

Perhaps  this  Constructive  Quarterly  will  never  do  all  that  we  hope 
it  will  do.  Perhaps,  as  Leo  XIII.  said,  "  There  are  those  who  consider 
that  we  are  far  too  sanguine,  and  look  for  things  rather  to  be  wished 
for  than  expected."  And  our  answer  is,  Leo's  further  words,  "  If 
only  a  portion  of  the  looked-for  results  should  come  about,  it  will  be 
no  inconsiderable  improvement  considering  the  general  decadence, 
when  the  intolerable  evils  of  the  present  day  bring  with  them  the 
dread  of  further  evils  in  days  to  come." 

The  Editor  of  The  Constructive  Quarterly  is  Dr.  Silas  McBee. 
The  first  issue  has  among  its  contributors  the  following  Catholics 
of  note:  The  Reverend  John  J.  Wynne,  S.J.,  Wilfrid  Ward,  and 
Georges  Goyau.  Among  the  associates  of  the  Editorial  Board  are: 
Monsignor  Thomas  Shahan,  Rector  of  the  Catholic  University; 
Doctor  Edward  A.  Pace,  Andrew  Shipman,  Father  Wynne,  Father 
Thurston,  and  Father  Sydney  Smith. 


THE  coming  celebration  of  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  recalls  the  famous 
address  of  President  Lincoln  at  the  dedication  of  the  National 
Gettysburg  Cemetery.    It  may  not  be  well  known  that  the  correct 
reading  of  this  address  has  been  the  occasion  of  considerable  contro- 
versy.   The  friendly  debate  may  be  said  to  have  started  almost  imme- 


284  WITH  OUR  READERS  [May, 

diately  after  the  delivery  of  the  address.  Mr.  Nicolay,  secretary 
to  President  Lincoln,  and  co-author  with  Mr.  Hay  of  a  Life  of  the 
President,  sums  up  as  follows  the  three  versions  that  have  given 
rise  to  the  dispute : 

"  (i)  The  original  autograph  MS.  draft,  written  by  Mr.  Lincoln  partly 
at  Washington,  and  partly  at  Gettysburg. 

"(2)  The  version  made  by  the  shorthand  reporter  on  the  stand  at  Gettys- 
burg when  the  President  delivered  it,  which  was  telegraphed,  and  was  printed 
in  the  leading  newspapers  of  the  country  on  the  following  morning. 

"  (3)  The  revised  copy  made  by  the  President  a  few  days  after  his 
return  to  Washington,  upon  a  careful  comparison  of  his  original  draft  and  the 
printed  newspaper  version,  with  his  own  recollection  of  the  exact  form  in 
which  he  delivered  it." 

Mr.  Nicolay  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  last  of  these  "is  the  regular 
outgrowth  of  the  two  which  preceded  it,  and  is  the  perfected  product 
of  the  President's  rhetorical  and  literary  mastery." 

General  Aleshire,  who  had  charge  of  the  National  Gettysburg 
Park,  gave  the  following  summary  in  his  official  report  on  the  question : 

"  (i)  The  final  revision  published  in  Autograph  Leaves  of  Our  Country's 
Authors,  prepared  by  President  Lincoln  five  months  after  the  address  for  the 
soldiers'  and  sailors'  fair  at  Baltimore.  This  is  the  version  desired  by  both 
Col.  Nicholson  and  Robert  T.  Lincoln.  The  latter  regarded  it  as  representing 
his  father's  last  and  best  thought  as  to  the  address. 

"  (2)  The  version  stipulated  to  be  used  by  the  act  of  February  n,  1895, 
appropriating  $5,000  for  the  bronze  tablet  containing  the  address  to  be  erected 
in  the  Gettysburg  National  Park.  This  differs  slightly  from  the  Baltimore 
version. 

"  (3)  The  John  Hay  version,  from  a  photographic  facsimile  of  the  orig- 
inal manuscript,  as  written  and  corrected  by  President  Lincoln  four  days  after 
he  had  delivered  the  address,  and  presented  it  to  John  Hay.  This  differs 
in  several  particulars  from  either  of  the  above  versions. 

Robert  T.  Lincoln,  the  son  of  the  President,  in  a  letter  to  General 
Aleshire,  gave  his  views  as  follows: 

"As  I  wrote  you  before,  the  Baltimore  fair  version  represents  my  father's 
last  and  best  thought  as  to  the  address,  and  the  corrections  in  it  were  legitimate 
for  an  author,  and  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  they  improve  the  version  as  written 
out  for  Col.  Hay.  And,  as  I  said  to  you  before,  I  earnestly  hope  that  the 
Baltimore  fair  version  will  be  used. 

"It  differs,  as  you  indicate,  very  slightly  from  your  Exhibit  A,  which, 
as  you  say,  is  given  in  the  statutes-at-large,  making  an  appropriation  for  the 
tablet  at  Gettysburg  National  Cemetery.  But  the  statute  version  was  not 
made,  of  course,  by  any  responsible  person,  and  I  think  its  incorrections  should 
not  be  perpetuated  when  we  have,  as  I  have  indicated,  an  exact  thing  to  go  by. 

"I  am  quite  sure  as  a  lawyer  that  there  is  no  obligation  upon  you,  in  the 
new  tablets  you  are  making,  to  follow  the  errors  in  the  text  in  his  old  statue, 
and  I  trust  that  you  will  not  do  so.  I  have  before  me,  as  I  write,  the  book 
published  by  the  Baltimore  sanitary  fair,  which  contains  a  full-sized  lithographic 


1913-]  WITH  OUR  READERS  285 

reproduction  of  the  address  as  my  father  sent  it  to  the  fair  to  be  sold  for  its 
benefit." 

In  1909,  as  a  result  of  an  investigation  by  the  War  Department, 
the  Baltimore  version  was  officially  adopted  by  that  Department.  Very 
recently  the  United  States  Senate  authorized  the  Committee  on  Library 
to  ascertain  the  correct  version.  There  is  little  doubt  from  the  history 
of  the  matter  that  the  Committee  will  adopt  the  Baltimore  version. 
As  the  speech  is  a  classic  of  the  English  language  we  reprint  that 
version  here: 

"  Four  score  and  seven  years  ago  our  fathers  brought  forth  on  this  continent, 
a  new  nation,  conceived  in  Liberty,  and  dedicated  to  the  proposition  that 
all  men  are  created  equal. 

"  Now  we  are  engaged  in  a  great  civil  war,  testing  whether  that  nation, 
or  any  nation  so  conceived  and  so  dedicated,  can  long  endure.  We  are  met 
on  a  great  battlefield  of  that  war.  We  have  come  to  dedicate  a  portion 
of  that  field,  as  a  final  resting  place  for  those  who  here  gave  their  lives  that 
'that  nation  might  live.  It  is  altogether  fitting  and  proper  that  we  should  do  this. 

"  But,  in  a  larger  sense,  we  can  not  dedicate — we  can  not  consecrate — 
we  can  not  hallow — this  ground.  The  brave  men,  living  and  dead,  who 
struggled  here,  have  consecrated  it,  far  above  our  poor  power  to  add  or 
detract.  The  world  will  little  note,  nor  long  remember  what  we  say  here, 
but  it  can  never  forget  what  they  did  here.  It  is  for  us  the  living,  rather, 
to  be  dedicated  here  to  the  unfinished  work  which  they  who  fought  here  have 
thus  far  so  nobly  advanced.  It  is  rather  for  us  to  be  here  dedicated  to  the  great 
task  remaining  before  us — that  from  these  honored  dead  we  take  increased 
devotion  to  that  cause  for  which  they  gave  the  last  full  measure  of  devotion — 
that  we  here  highly  resolve  that  these  dead  shall  not  have  died  in  vain — 
that  this  nation,  under  God,  shall  have  a  new  birth  of  freedom — and  that 
government  of  the  people,  by  the  people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from 
the  earth." 


rPHE  anniversary  last  month  of  the  Titanic  disaster  brought  forth 
J-  a  number  of  memorial  poems.  One  of  them  stands  out  prominent 
for  its  singular  strength  and  its  depth  of  feeling.  It  is  from  the  pen 
of  Katharine  Tynan,  and  was  published  in  the  British  Review.  The 
critique  by  Katherine  Bregy  of  Mrs.  Hinkson's  work  in  this  issue 
of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  makes  its  reprinting  here  particularly  ap- 
propriate. 

THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  RICH  MAN. 

Lord  Jesus  stood  at  Paradise  gate 

And  saw  a  myriad  worlds  and  stars. 
Oh,  what  is  this  so  desolate 

Clinging  to  the  gold  bars? 

The  salt  spume  on  its  eyes  and  lips, 

The   seaweed   tangled   in   its   hair. 
Oh,  scourged  with  bitter  thorns  and  whips, 

What  seas  have  stripped  thee  bare? 


286  WITH  OUR  READERS  [May, 

Lord  Jesus  bowed  His  comely  head 
With:    What  art  thou,  thou  thing  forlorn? 

Oh,  I  am  a  rich  man's  soul,  it  said, 
That  died  ere  I  was  born. 

By  Thine  own  lips  was  judgment  given, 

Yea,   judgment  sharper  than  a  sword. 
How  shall  a  rich  man  enter  heaven? 

Yea,  Thou  hast  said  it,  Lord. 

It  was  the  dead  oped  lips  to  cry 

How  should  I  save  my  soul,  alas ! 
Since  easier  through  the  needle's  eye 

The  camel's  shape  should  pass? 

Lord  Jesus,  Who  hath  ruth  for  all, 

Had  pity  on  the  rich  man's  doom : 
I  can  do  all  things  great  and  small, 

Yea,  give  the  camel  room. 

But  who  is  it  has  hurt  thee,  say, 

Made  thee  one  gaping  wound  and  marred 
Out   of   immortal   likeness,   yea 

As  I  was  marred  and  scarred? 

And  knowest  Thou  not,  Lord  Christ,  this  hour, 

Who   knowest  all   has   been,   shall   be, 
That  the  great  ship,  new  Babel's  Tower, 

Is  sunk  beneath  the  sea? 

The  iceberg  pierced  her  monstrous  side, 

As  frail  as  any  cockleshell, 
With  a  great  sob  she  plunged  and  died. 

Oh,  Lord,  what  need  of  hell? 

The  rich  men  now  that  went  so  brave 

Drift  'twixt  Cape  Race  and  Labrador. 
Not  such  as  these  Thou   diedst  to  save, 

Thou  Saviour  of  the  poor. 

Not  these,  not  these,  Thou  diedst  to  win: 

Thy  Passion  was  not  spent  for  them. 
Have  I  not  purged  me  from  my  sin 

Who   heard   the   women   scream? 

Son,  I  was  there  and  saw  thee  die. 

The  unstable  waters  bore  me  up 
Whose  hollowed  hand  can  hold  the  sky, 

Sun,   stars,   as   in  a  cup. 

I,  Shepherd  of  the  Ocean,  passed; 

Gathered   My  lambs,   gathered   My   sheep: 
Saw  rich  men  greatly  die  at  last. 

Yea,  what  they  lost  they  keep. 

That  was  the  door  I  opened, 

Narrow  and  high  in  Paradise  wall, 
That    they    should    die    in    another's    stead, 

For  Mine,  the  meek  and  small. 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  287 

That  which  they  cast  away  they  save, 
They  paid  their  debt  in  full.    One  breath: 

Smiled  on  the  innumerable  grave, 
Leaped,  and  found  Life,  not  Death. 

Not  through  the  needle's   eye  may   fare 

The  camel:    by  a  straiter  gate, 
Naked   and   scourged,   made  clean   and   bare, 

The  rich  man  enters  late. 


THE  NEWMAN  MEMORIAL  CHURCH. 

IT  is  now  eleven  years  since  the  Fathers  of  the  Birmingham  Oratory 
made  their  first  appeal  for  funds  to  build  a  new  church  as  a  mem- 
orial of  their  venerated  founder,  Cardinal  Newman.  That  undertaking 
was  nowhere  more  generously  furthered  than  in  the  United  States. 
The  church  has  been  built  and  partly  decorated;  it  now  waits  to  be 
made  quite  free  from  debt,  in  order  to  be  consecrated  next  summer, 
if  possible.  The  contributions  amounted  to  £41,200;  the  total  outlay 
is  £43,700.  A  sum  of  £2,500  ($12,500)  is  still,  therefore,  with  God's 
blessing,  to  be  raised. 

Well,  is  this  amount  very  formidable?  Are  the  Fathers  too  bold 
in  feeling  that  many  of  those  who  gave  their  subscriptions  to  Father 
Eaton  in  1905,  as  well  as  others  to  whom  the  genius  and  name  of 
John  Henry  Newman  are  dear,  will  rally  to  their  aid,  now  that  the 
memorial  exists,  and  only  its  last  handicap  needs  to  be  removed? 
May  not  the  finishing  of  so  good  a  work  be  entrusted  to  the  loyalty 
of  their  kind  American  friends?  With  a  little  leadership,  the  thing 
would  be  done  quickly.  Or  should  a  few  come  forward  at  once  with 
good-will  offerings,  sufficient  to  make  up  the  whole  $12,500,  the  Fathers 
will  promise  to  signalize  and  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  American 
contribution  by  a  tablet  in  the  church  recording  the  gift.  But  they 
will  be  most  grateful  for  any  sums,  large  or  small,  sent  to  the  Rever- 
end Father  Superior,  The  Oratory,  Edgbaston,  Birmingham,  England, 
or  to  the  Editor  of  this  magazine,  if  specified  as  being  for  the  Newman 
Memorial  Church  Fund. 


THE  Religion  of  America,  by  Dr.   William   Barry,   in  the  April 
Atlantic    Monthly,    is    an    article    of    exceptional    interest,    and 
one  that  will  furnish  much  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  and  also  of  debate, 
for  all  who  are  interested  in  the  growth  of  the  Church  in  America, 
and  in  our  religious  progress  as  a  nation. 


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THE 


CATHOLIC  WORLD, 


VOL.  XCVII. 


JUNE,  1913. 


No.  579. 


WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES? 


BY   ELBRIDGE    COLBY. 


HERE  has  recently  come  to  America  a  young  English 
poet  by  the  name  of  Alfred  Noyes.  He  has  lectured 
at  Columbia  University,  at  Yale,  and  at  New  York 
University.  He  has  appeared  before  certain  of  the 
New  York  Clubs.  He  has  been  interviewed  by  the 
journalists  and  commented  upon  editorially.  One  paper  has  said 
that  he  does  not  well  explain  his  own  work ;  another  that  he  "  has 
a  vision  of  a  new  religion  of  poetry  expressive  of  the  harmony 

of  life not  unlike  that  toward  which  Tennyson  groped 

in  an  age  when  men  were  wondering  whether  the  new  discoveries 
of  science  had  not  sounded  the  death-knell  both  of  poetry  and  of 
religion ;"  one  magazine  has  attacked  him  with  notoriously  bad 
taste;  another  has  praised  him  as  "an  unusual  poet." 
Who  is  this  Alfred  Noyes? 

He  is  a  young  man,  a  particularly  vigorous,  healthy  sort  of 
a  young  man.  He  was  born  September  16,  1880 — ridiculously 
recent  date! — and  in  course  of  time  was  educated  at  Exeter  Col- 
lege, Oxford.  He  pulled  an  oar  in  the  College  "  boat "  and  wrote 
poems,  aside  from  his  ordinary  academic  duties  as  an  under- 
graduate. At  the  first  publication  of  his  verse,  in  the  London  Times, 
he  was  still  in  residence  at  Oxford.  Leaving  college,  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  wished  to  write  poetry,  and  that  he  would 
devote  himself  to  poetry  exclusively.  Difficult  and  daring  as  the 

Copyright.     1913.     THE  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  OF  ST.  PAUL  THE  APOSTLE 

ix  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 
VOL.  XCVII.— IQ. 


290  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYESf  [June, 

course  might  appear  to  be  for  a  person  without  a  substantial 
income,  he  was  convinced  that  it  was  the  right  one. 

A  little  reflection  will  show  the  wisdom  of  his  decision. 
Though  certainly  not  all,  yet  many  of  the  great  poets  have  had  but 
the  one  purpose  in  life.  Poetry  is  not  easy  to  write,  it  takes 
practice  and  experience  to  deliver  a  worthy  and  sustained  effort. 
A  person  to  whom  the  writing  of  verse  is  only  incidental  will  be 
inclined  to  give  mere  glimpses  and  phases  of  life,  rather  than  broad 
conceptions  and  fundamental  meanings:  ideals  would  seem  occa- 
sionally to  be  admired,  not  to  be  followed.  Thus,  it  would  appear 
wise  that  poetry  should  be  for  the  poet  a  vocation  rather  than 
an  avocation. 

With  the  intention  of  showing  young  men  of  to-day,  who  have 
poetic  genius,  that  they  need  not  waste  their  energies  writing 
book  reviews  for  London  literary  columns,  Mr.  Noyes  set  about 
proving  that  poetry  has  a  certain  real  place  in  the  world.  In  the 
words  of  Shelley,  "  Poets  not  otherwise  than  philosophers,  painters, 
sculptors,  and  musicians  are,  in  one  sense,  the  creators,  and,  in 
another,  the  creations  of  their  age."  Theirs  is  a  function  which 
has  legitimate  standing  in  the  social  system.  And  so  Mr.  Noyes 
has  made  poetry  his  business.  He  has  contributed  to  the  London 
Daily  Mail,  the  Pall  Mall  Magazine,  The  Spectator,  Speaker,  Black- 
wood's  Magazine,  Outlook,  Fortnightly  Review,  Atlantic  Monthly, 
the  London  Nation,  Standard,  The  Bookman,  McClure's  Magazine, 
North  American  Revie-w,  and  the  Forum.  His  poems  have  been 
collected  and  published  in  book  form  in  England,  as  follows : 

The  Loom  of  Years 1902 

The  Flower  of  Old  Japan 1903 

Poems 1904 

Forest  of   Wild   Thyme 1905 

Drake,  An   English   Epic 1906-8 

Forty  Singing  Seamen 1907 

The   Enchanted    Island 1909 

Collected    Poems 1910 

Robin    Hood 1912 

American  impressions  have  been  as  follows: 

Poems    1906 

The  Flower  of  Old  Japan 1907 

Golden    Hynde 1908 

Drake,  An  English  Epic 1909 

The   Enchanted   Island 1910 

Sherwood    1911 

Tales  of  the  Mermaid   Tavern 1913 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  291 

The  seven  American  editions  of  Mr.  Noyes,  as  they  stand 
before  me  on  the  table — seven  of  them,  a  book  for  each  year,  save 
one — the  seven  represent  an  enormous  amount  of  work,  and  they 
cover  a  multiplicity  of  subjects.  Poems  contains  the  rich  and 
gorgeous  painting  of  the  ode  on  The  Passing  of  Summer;  a  sweet, 
sad  love  tale,  Silk  o}  the  Kine;  a  strong  and  powerful  Napoleonic 
study,  A  Night  at  St.  Helena;  a  romantic  glimmering  through 
the  depths  of  "  Sherwood  in  the  twilight ;"  a  pure  "  stunt "  piece 
of  varying  metres  on  The  Barrel-Organ  that  recalls  Kipling's 
attempts  with  The  Banjo;  a  fine  narrative  work  in  The  Highway- 
man, and  much  fantastic  humor  in  Forty  Singing  Seamen.  So 
we  could  go  on  and  on,  characterizing  each  poem  in  the  book, 
for  each  is  of  a  different  character.  All  are  done  with  the  same 
even  facility,  except  that  narration,  pure  description,  and  the  singing 
of  little  songs  are  types  in  which  Mr.  Noyes  excells.  Where  the 
emphasis  is  shifted  from  emotion  to  thought  the  poems  are  weak. 

The  Flower  of  Old  Japan  and  the  Forest  of  Wild  Thyme, 
published  under  the  one  title,  represent  Mr.  Noyes  at  his  best. 
Here  he  has  an  opportunity  to  sing ;  here  is  the  world  of  fairyland 
and  the  world  of  dreams ;  here  can  be  much  description  of  peculiar 
things;  here  can  be  narration;  and  here — in  the  child's  world — all 
is  emotion  rather  than  thought. 

The  book  The  Golden  Hynde,  like  the  vessel  after  which  it 
is  named,  is  rich  in  various  kinds  of  precious  freight, 

With  the  fruit  of  Aladdin's  Garden  clustering  thick  in  her  hold, 
With  rubies  awash  in  her  scuppers  and  her  bilge  ablaze  with  gold. 

To  the  present  writer  it  represents  very  nearly  the  present  "  high 
watermark  "  of  Mr.  Noyes'  achievement. 

The  next  volume  was  Drake,  a  long,  blank-verse  epic,  studded 
with  exquisite  lyrics.  The  piece  is  after  the  style  and  tone  of 
Marlowe,  both  in  blank  verse  grandeur  and  in  pretty  lyric  outburst. 
It  tells  of  England  and  the  fight  against  Spain  at  the  height  of 
her  proud  glory.  It  is  an  interesting  patriotic  piece,  a  difficult 
work  to  do  well;  but,  as  Andrew  Lang  said,  it  is  "  good  in  parts," 
and  in  those  parts  very  good  indeed.  Read  at  random,  occasionally, 
it  is  inspiring:  read  consistently,  at  a  sitting,  it  is  tiring.  Yet 
who  ever  tries  to  read  Paradise  Lost  at  a  sitting?  In  Drake  there 
are  many  gems  among  the  metals,  and  they  are  worth  discovering. 

The  Enchanted  Island  and  Sherwood  represent  nothing  very 


292  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYESf  [June, 

different  from  the  sort  of  thing  that  might  have  been  expected  from 
Mr.  Noyes.  The  first  is  a  collection  much  like  the  previous  collec- 
tions, except  that  Mr.  Noyes  seems  more  serious  and  less  inter- 
esting; and  Sherwood  is  less  serious  and  more  interesting.  Sher- 
wood in  execution  is  very  similar  to  Drake.  Mr.  Noyes  has  brought 
all  the  skill  of  his  art,  the  sum  of  his  versatility,  to  bear  on 
the  various  lights  and  shadows  of  English  woodland.  In  some 
places  in  the  play  he  has  succeeded,  in  others  he  has  not.  The 
newly-published  Tales  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern  is  the  finest  single 
work  of  any  length  which  Mr.  Noyes  has  produced;  and  this 
advance  in  worth  is  not  a  matter  of  poetic  improvement,  but  rather 
of  skillful  adjustment.  In  a  succession  of  tales  heard  by 

A  leather-jerkined  pot-boy  to  these  gods, 
A  prentice  Ganymede  to  the  Mermaid  Inn, 

narrative  and  pure  description  predominate ;  there  is  no  moralizing ; 
there  is  room  for  gorgeous  description  and  for  light-hearted  song; 
there  is  opportunity  for  short  passages  vigorous  and  rolling,  or 
swift  and  telling  blank  verse. 

Mr.  Noyes  has  lapsed  a  few  times  into  prose.  On  one  occa- 
sion it  was  to  write  for  the  English  Men  of  Letters  Series  a  biog- 
raphy of  William  Morris,  for  whom  he  professed  great  admiration ; 
on  another  it  was  to  prepare  a  lecture  on  The  Future  of  Poetry  for 
American  delivery;*  on  another  it  was  to  make  a  statement  of  his 
faith  in  the  Fortnightly  Review,  in  an  article  entitled  Acceptances;^' 
on  another  it  was  to  put  together  a  short  prefatory  note  for  the 
Everyman  edition  of  the  early  romances  of  William  Morris;  on 
another  it  was  to  point  out,  in  a  review,  that  Thomas  Hardy, 
through  poetry,  had  been  stirred  up  to  reject  his  dread  fatalistic 
spirit  ;J  on  another  it  was  to  express  his  liking  for  the  poems  of  his 
friend  Edmund  Gosse,  to  whom  he  has  dedicated  his  latest 
volume.  §  But,  in  the  main,  Mr.  Noyes  has  persisted  in  writing 
poetry ;  and,  as  a  poet,  he  has  succeeded  both  in  "  making  his  living 
by  writing  poetry  "  and  in  gaining  the  good  opinions  of  the  critics. 

When  Mr.  James  Douglass  referred  to  Mr.  Noyes  as  an  "  old- 
fashioned  confectioner," 1 1  he  was  merely  taking  an  unnecessarily 
abrupt  and  uncomplimentary  way  of  saying  that  Mr.  Noyes  is  a 

*Printed  in  New  York  Times,  March  30,   1913. 

^Fortnightly  Review,  July,    1911,  v.  96,  p.   86. 

tNorth  American  Review,  v.    194,   p.   96. 

^Fortnightly  Reveiw,  August,    1912,  v.   98,  p.   297. 

\\Public  Opinion,  quoted  in  New  York  Evening  Post,  October  19,   1911. 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  293 

traditional  poet.  He  has  been  repeatedly  spoken  of  as  such.  Just 
for  example,  the  New  York  Nation*  has  referred  to  his  "  eternal 
nostalgia  of  the  past,"  and  the  Review  of  Reviews  has  said  that  he 
is  "  destined  to  be  of  the  greatest  service  in  the  re-establishment  of 
the  great  traditions  of  English  song." 

We  recall  that  Shelley  said :  "  One  great  poet  is  a  master- 
piece of  nature  which  another  not  only  ought  to  study,  but  must 
study."t  So  we  find  Mr.  Noyes  saying :  "  There  are  certain  pos- 
sessions for  us,  certain  inheritances  that  we  must  accept  from  the 
past  or  perish."  He  then  cites  several  things  as  "  only  symptoms 
of  a  widespread  evil,  arising  almost  always  from  a  rejection  of 
the  grand  labors  of  bygone  centuries. "J  In  a  review  of  some  poems 
by  Edmund  Gosse,  he  says§  that  we  "  cannot  break  away  from  the 
past."  In  the  preface  to  one  of  his  volumes ||  Mr.  Noyes  has  men- 
tioned Tennyson.  In  his  own  reading  of  these  seven  volumes,  the 
present  writer  was  continually  reminded  of  Tennyson.  Twice  in 
notices  in  various  magazines  which  have  come  to  the  eye  of  the 
present  writer,  Tennyson's  name  was  used.  Three  other  persons,^ 
reviewing  the  biography  of  William  Morris,  noted  the  very  obvious 
fact  that  Mr.  Noyes  seemed  to  prefer  Tennyson  to  Morris.  We 
recently  re-read  the  William  Morris  volume,  looking  for  such  ten- 
dencies, and  the  result  was  striking.  Every  outburst  of  enthu- 
siasm, every  piece  of  really  inspired  criticism,  is  for  Tennyson 
rather  than  for  Morris;  the  two  are  balanced  over  against  one 
another  all  through  the  book — to  the  continual  disadvantage  of 
Morris.  Tennyson  seems  to  have  been  Mr.  Noyes'  model,  almost 
admittedly  so. 

The  fact  that  we  shall  call  him  a  traditional  poet,  will  throw 
some  light  on  the  references  by  critics  to  "  hackneyed  conceptions," 
and  on  statements  like  "  importing  little  when  all  is  said."  The 
whole  tone  of  the  article  in  the  Fortnightly  Review,  called- Accept- 
ances, is  an  admonition,  and  a  charge  to  retain  the  past  rather 
than  go  questing  new  sensations.  We  must  accomplish,  according 
to  Mr.  Noyes,  "  the  reconciliation  of  an  open  and  eager  outlook 
for  the  new,  with  a  vital  love  and  real  reverence  for  the  old."** 

A  friend  of  the  present  writer  offered  the  suggestion  that  Mr. 

*87  :  34,  July  9,  1908.  t Preface  to  Prometheus. 

^Acceptances,  Fortnightly  Review,  96:86,  July,    1911. 
^Fortnightly  Review,  98:297,  August,    1912. 

\\The  Flower  of  Old  Japan,   American   edition,    New   York,    1907. 
^Saturday  Review,   107:629,  May   15,   1909;   The  Spectator,   102:265,   February 
13.  1909;  The  Dial,  46:  141,  March  i,  1909. 

**From  lecture  delivered  at  Columbia  University,   March  7,    1913. 


294  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYESf  [June, 

Noyes  has  gone  away  from  London,  down  into  Sussex,  and  is 
"  starting  a  little  Romantic  Revival  all  his  own."  The  closing 
words  of  Acceptances  would  seem  to  bear  out  this  tentative  sug- 
gestion : 

The  lonely  idealists,  the  lonely  rebels,  at  the  present  day, 
are  not  to  be  found  among  the  crowds  of  self-styled  "  rebels  " 
who  drift  before  every  wind  of  fashion  and  every  puff  of  opinion 

The  real  rebels,  in  the  great  and  honorable  sense,  are  to 

be  found  accepting — to  the  astonishment  of  their  "  ad- 
yanced  "  friends,  and,  from  a  lonely  point  of  view,  a  solitary 
height — accepting  the  gifts  of  their  fathers,  and  sometimes, 
not  without  a  need  for  courage,  kneeling  to  their  fathers'  God. 


bear  closer  scrutiny.  Mr.  Noyes  writes  in  a  fashion  and  mood  of 
verse  in  which  few  men  are  writing  to-day,  in  which  the  litterateurs 
of  London  at  least  are  not  writing.  In  an  interview  with  an 
American  journalist,*  he  quoted  the  phrase  "  Give  us  our  gods 
again,"  and  said  that,  with  the  present  diffusion  of  interest  in 
the  pursuit  of  scientific  facts,  we  have  lost  sight  of  our  ideals. 
From  the  morbid  erotic  materialism  of  Symons  and  Dowson,  he 
wishes  poetry  to  turn  to  a  fine  spiritual  faith.  His  is  a  spirit  of 
high  idealism  founded  on  the  greatness  of  the  past. 

Subjects  for  poems  drawn  out  of  the  past  can  be  vested 
with  the  glamor  of  old  romance;  they  are  often  narrative  subjects; 
they  usually  give  a  certain  amount  of  free  play  to  the  imagination ; 
and  they  are  transfigured  with  lofty  ideals.  Mr.  Noyes  is  a  very 
enthusiastic  patriotic  poet.  Drake,  Robin  Hood,  and  Admiral 
Nelson  have  been  the  subjects  of  some  of  his  best  pieces.  There 
was  a  poem  that  appeared  in  Blackwood's,  The  Sailor  King,^ 
worthy  of  our  attention — a  fine  poem  about  "  The  beacon- 
fire  of  an  Empire's  soul,"  which  combines  very  well  hopes  for 
the  future  with  praise  for  the  past.  In  the  Tales  of  the  Mermaid 
Tavern  there  stirs  an  intense  patriotism,  equalled  only  in  intensity 
by  the  hatred  against  "  the  pomp  and  pride  of  old  Castile,"  and 
by  his  love  for  England's  most  sentimental  hero — Nelson, 

With  the  patch  on  his  eye  and  the  pinned-up  sleeve, 
And  a  soul  like  a  North  Sea  storm. 

A     recent     paragraph     in     The     Bookman^,     referred     to 

*Mr.  M.  J.  Moses,  of  the  New  York  Times. 
fi88:i,  July,  1910.  $37  :  i,  March,   1913. 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  295 

Mr.  Noyes  as  a  possible  laureate  and  said,  "  Others  may 
do  as  they  please,  he  will  be  the  poet  of  England,  of  her  greatness, 
her  history,  her  destiny."  In  no  other  writer  does  there  appear  such 
concern  for  the  past  and  future  glory  of  Britain,  or  is  there  one 
who  writes  so  consistently  of  it.  The  island  people  are  essentially 
a  patriotic  people;  and  Mr.  Noyes,  somewhat  as  Tennyson  did, 
seems  to  express  the  sentiment  of  the  whole  people  in  vigorous 
rhythms  when  occasion  demands.  As  yet  he  has  done  nothing  com- 
parable to  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,  or  the  wonderful 
Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  But,  then,  he  has 
scarcely  had  opportunity. 

Drake  is  a  great  monument  to  the  British  nationality ;  and  the 
Tales  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern  express  very  well  the  spirit  of  Eng- 
land in  a  period  of  great  expansion,  when  seamen  were  "  out  to 
seek  a  realm  of  gold,  beyond  the  Spanish  Main."  In  mingled 
legends  of  various  types,  we  see  the  many  phases  of  England's 
might  and  England's  heroism.  We  will  quote  from  a  song  which 

Made  the  old  timbers  of  the  Mermaid  Inn 
Shake  as  a  galleon  shakes  in  a  gale  of  wind, 
When  she  rolls  glorying  through  the  Ocean-Sea, 

a  song  which  well  illustrates  how  splendidly  Mr.  Noyes  has  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  Elizabethan  seamen. 

Marchaunt  Adventurers,  chanting  at  the  windlass, 

Early  in  the  morning,  we  slipped  from  Plymouth  Sound, 
All  for  Adventure  in  the  great  New  Regions, 

All  for  Eldorado  and  to  sail  the  world  around! 
Sing!  the  red  of  sun-rise  ripples  round  the  bows  again. 

Marchaunt  Adventurers,  6  sing,  we're  outward  bound, 
All  to  stuff  the  sunset  in  our  old  black  galleon, 

All  to  seek  the  merchandise  that  no  man  ever  found. 

Chorus:      Marchaunt  Adventurers! 
Marchaunt  Adventurers! 
Marchaunt  Adventurers,  O  whither  are  ye  bound? — 

All  for  Eldorado  and  the  great  new  Sky-line, 
All  to  seek  the  merchandise  that  no  man  ever  found. 

And  in  the  chorus  to  the  second  stanza  we  find: 

What  shall  be  your  profit  in  the  mighty  days  to  be  ? — 
Englande !— Englande !— Englande !— Englande  !— 
Glory  everlasting  and  the  lordship  of  the  sea. 


296  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  [June, 

When  Mr.  Noyes  turns  from  the  Renaissance  to  modern 
times,  his  message  of  conquest  is  of  peace  and  not  of  war.  A  stanza 
or  so  from  a  piece  which  appeared  in  1911*  shows  rather  well  how 
he  has  combined  his  nationality  with  his  hopes  for  international 
conciliation : 

Dare  we  know  that  this  great  hour 

Dawning  on  thy  long  renown, 
Marks  the  purpose  of  thy  power, 

Crowns  thee  with  a  mightier  crown, 
Know  that  to  this  purpose  climb 
All  the  blood-red  wars  of  Time? 
If,  indeed,  thou  hast  a  goal, 
Beaconing  to  thy  warrior  soul, 

Britain,  kneel! 
Kneel,  imperial  Commonweal! 


Dare  we  cast  our  pride  away? — 
Dare  we  tread  where  Lincoln  trod  ? 

All  the  Future  by  this  day 

Waits  to  judge  us  and  our  God ! 

Set  the  struggling  peoples  free: 

Crown  with  Law  their  Liberty! 

Proud  with  an  immortal  pride 

Kneel  we  at  our  sister's  side! 
Britain,  kneel! 

Kneel,  imperial  Commonweal! 

In  his  own  words :  "  Patriotism  is  not  dead  because  it  is 

emancipating  itself  from  the  mere  trapping  of  slaughter The 

spirit  of  patriotism,  like  the  spirit  of  religion,  has  moved  onward, 
broadening,  developing,  passing  beyond  the  old  borders  of  nation- 
ality  Our  God  is  not  a  lesser  God,  but  a  greater  than  of  old"f 

Mingled  with  the  patriotic  spirit,  and  with  the  desire  for  inter- 
national conciliation,  running  through  many  of  his  later  poems, 
we  find  what  Mr.  Brian  Hooker  called  his  "  didactic  religiosity. "J 

The  mystic  religious  spirit  of  Mr.  Noyes,  a  feeling  for  the  deep 
and  important  things  of  life,  was  a  great  asset  when  it  presented 
with  the  naive  simplicity  of  The  Flower  of  Old  Japan — "  a  certain 

seriousness  behind  its  fantasy  "§ — with  the  strong  faith  and  cer- 

t 

^Fortnightly  Review,  95:724,  April,  1911. 

flnterview,  New  York  Times.  %Bookman,  31:484,  July,   1910. 

§  Preface   to   American   edition,    1907. 


I 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYESf  297 

tainty  of  Mount  Ida,  and  with  the  proper  humility  before  the 
face  of  God  in  Creation,  the  Creator  speaking  of  man  remarks : 

And  oft  forget  Me  as  he  plays 

With  swords  and  childish  merchandise, 
Or  with  his  elfin  balance  weighs, 

Or  with  his  foot-rule  metes  the  skies ; 
Or  builds  his  castles  by  the  deep, 

Or  tunnels  through  the  rocks,  and  then 

Turn  to  Me  as  he  falls  asleep, 

And,  in  his  dreams,  feel  for  My  hand  again. 

In  one  or  two  stanzas  of  the  Forest  of  Wild  Thyme,  he  dwells 
on  the  everlasting  simplicity  and  the  eternal  strength  of  a  faith 
in  a  pure  soul,  the  metaphysical  truths  of  themselves  immanent 
in  the  heart  of  a  child.  It  is  the  world  of  children  to  be  sure; 
it  is  the  world  of  dreams,  but  the  children  speak  truth  and  the 
dreams  are  true. 

Little  Boy  Blue,  you  are  gallant  and  brave, 

There  was  never  a  doubt  in  those  clear  bright  eyes ; 
Come,  challenge  the  grim  dark  Gates  of  the  Grave 

As  the  skylark  sings  to  those  infinite  skies  h 
The  world  is  a  dream,  say  the  old  and  wise, 

And  its  rainbows  arise  o'er  the  false  and  the  true; 
But  the  mists  of  the  morning  are  made  of  our  sighs — 

Ah,  shatter  them,  scatter  them,  Little  Boy  Blue! 

Little  Boy  Blue,  if  the  child-heart  knows, 

Sound  but  a  note  as  a  little  one  may, 
And  the  thorns  of  the  desert  shall  bloom  with  the  rose, 

And  the  Healer  shall  wipe  all  tears  away; 
Little  Boy  Blue,  we  are  all  astray, 

The  sheep's  in  the  meadow,  the  cow's  in  the  corn — 
Ah,  set  the  world  right,  as  a  little  one  may: 

Little  Boy  Blue,  come  blow  up  your  horn. 

And  the  child's  is  the  essence  of  Truth  at  hand  for  the  earnest 
seeker : 

What  is  there  hid  in  the  heart  of  a  rose, 

Mother-mine  ? 

Ah,  who  knows,  who  knows,  who  knows? 
A  Man  that  died  on  a  lonely  hill 
May  tell  you  perhaps,  but  none  other  will, 
Little  Child, 


298  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES f  [June, 

What  does  it  take  to  make  a  rose, 

Mother-mine  ? 

The  God  that  died  to  make  it  knows. 
It  takes  the  world's  eternal  wars, 
It  takes  the  moon  and  all  the  stars, 
It  takes  the  might  of  heaven  and  hell, 
And  the  everlasting  Love  as  well, 
*  Little  Child. 

We  cannot  understand  why  Mr.  Noyes  should  turn  aside  from 
so  definite  and  fervent  a  belief  to  the  vague,  shifting,  intangible 
groping  toward  truth  which  he  has  put  into  most  of  his  later 
poems.  It  was  this  inconclusive  attitude  which  preceded  the  com- 
ment on  "  didactic  religiosity."  Truth  may  be  apprehended  emo- 
tionally as  well  as  reasonably;  the  sentiment  instilled  is  of  more 
value  than  the  thought  conveyed;  and  so  when  Mr.  Noyes  turns 
from  lyrism  to  didacticism  he  mars  his  poetry.  He  complicates  and 
confuses  his  beliefs  when  he  tries  to  make  them  more  intricate 
and  more  extensive.  The  pure  beauty  of  truth  has  only  to  be  seen 
to  be  appreciated  and  generally  appreciated.  All  the  fantastic 
moral  conceits  and  ethical  systems  shrink  to  insignificance  before 
the  simplicity  of  the  truth  that  is  all  about  us  in  the  heart  of 
nature,  dominating  the  thoughts  of  our  lives,  inspiring  our  very 
souls.  What  does  it  take  to  make  a  rose? 

This  complicated  system  is  the  sober  philosophy  of  "  hack- 
neyed conceptions  "  to  which  reviewers  referred  with  dislike.  The 
Saturday  Review,  for  instance,  spoke  in  favor  of  the  philosophy 
of  the  fairy  Mustard  Seed :  "  We  wish  that  Mr.  Noyes  would 
continue  to  hunt  fairy  gleams  and  not  'run  in  straiter  lines  of 
chiselled  speech.5 '  We  would  agree  with  this  critic,  and  turn 
against  our  poet  a  few  lines  from  his  own  pen  (the  "  grown-ups  " 
may  stand  for  the  egotistical,  self-sufficient,  rational  moralists)  : 

Oh,  grown-ups  cannot  understand, 

And  grown-ups  never  will, 
How  short  is  the  way  to  fairyland 

Across  the  purple  hill. 
They  smile:    their  smile  is  very  bland, 

Their  eyes  are  wise  and  chill; 
And  yet — at  just  a  child's  command — 

The  world's  an  Eden  still. 

• 

Another  reason  why  the  Saturday  Review  might  have  wished 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  299 

— though  it  did  not  mention  it — that  Mr.  Noyes  should  continue  to 
write  fairy  tales,  is  that  Mr.  Noyes  is  at  his  best  at  imaginative 
lyric  and  at  free  narrative.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  success 
of  the  Tales  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern,  a  collection  of  fine  songs, 
most  of  them  narrative  songs — a  notable  recital  of  the  death  of 
Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert ;  a  rollicking  tale  of  a  pirate  and  some  honey 
and  some  bees  and  a  bear;  a  rhyme  of  one  who  danced  the  mor- 
rice-dance  across  England,  and  a  tale  of  "  A  Coiner  of  Angels." 
Here  is  song  and  here  is  action,  and  songs  are  the  things  Mr. 
Noyes  does  best.  His  is  clearly  a  lyric  genius ;  and,  where  his 
blank  verse  rises  to  real  worth,  it  is  because  there  is  at  that 
point  in  the  story  an  emotional  impulse  which  gives  to  the  lines 
an  almost  "  lyric  cry." 

The  lyrics  have  an  inimitable  "  singing  quality,"  they  have  an 
indefinable  charm;  they  have  the  proper  touch  of  sentiment;  they 
are  developments  of  emotional  impulses.  Through  his  various 
volumes  are  scattered  many  lyrics,  but  none  so  good  as  those  the 
mariners  sing  in  Drake  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  sea  voyage. 
In  some  of  the  lyrics,  in  Lavender,  for  instance,  and  The  Electric 
Tram,  fine  as  they  are,  we  can  detect  an  ulterior  motive  that 
detracts — but  not  in  these.  These  are  sung  for  the  pure  joy  of  the 
singing,  and  the  result  is  pure  beauty.  Those  beginning  "  Sweet, 
what  is  love?"  and  "The  moon  is  up,  the  stars  are  bright,"  have 
scarcely  been  equalled  since  the  Elizabethan  outburst  of  lyric  song 
of  which  they  remind  us.  We  quote  from  one  of  the  finest: 

Now  the  purple  night  is  past, 

Now  the  moon  more  faintly  glows, 
Dawn  has  through  thy  casement  cast 

Roses  on  thy  breast,  a  rose; 
Now  the  kisses  are  all  done, 

Now  the  world  awakes  anew, 
Now  the  charmed  hour  is  gone, 

Let  not  love  go,  too. 

When  old  winter,  creeping  nigh, 

Sprinkles  raven  hair  with  white, 
Dims   the   brightly   glancing   eye, 

Laughs  away  the  dancing  light, 
Roses  may  forget  their  sun, 

Lilies  may  forget  their  dew, 
Beauties  perish,  one  by  one, 

Let  not  love  go,  too. 


300  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  [June, 

Palaces  and  towers  of  pride 

Crumble  year  by  year  away; 
Creeds  like  robes  are  laid  aside, 

Even  our  very  tombs  decay! 
When  the  all-conquering  moth  and  rust 

Gnaw  the  goodly  garment  through, 
When  the  dust  returns  to  dust, 

Let  not  love  go,  too. 

There  are  also  one  or  two  quite  worthy  songs  in  Sherwood,  but 
none  quite  comparable  to  those  in  Drake. 

In  pieces  too  long  for  the  single  lyric  impulse,  Mr.  Noyes 
is  at  his  best  when  telling  a  tale.  He  is  a  balladist  of  high  rank. 
Thus  it  is  that  The  Admiral's  Ghost,  the  fairy  tales  already  men- 
tioned, Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  The  Cottage  of  the  Kindly  Light, 
Forty  Singing  Seamen,  Bacchus  and  the  Pirates,  The  Two  Painters, 
and  The  Highwayman  are  to  be  ranked  among  his  finest  poems. 
In  the  Mermaid  tales,  and  in  the  pirate  narratives,  where  oppor- 
tunity is  offered,  as  in  The  Flower  of  Old  Japan,  for  fantastic 
descriptions  of  incidentals,  we  swing  along  with  the  metre,  held 
by  the  charm  of  the  verse  and  the  intense  interest  of  the  story, 
curious  to  learn  how  the  whole  thing  comes  out. 

His  chief  fault  is  repetition.     We  find : 

His  head  bowed  down,  he  sank  upon  his  knees, 
Down  on  his  knees  he  sank  before  her  feet, 
Before  her  feet  he  sank,  with  one  low  moan, 
One  passionate  moan  of  worship  and  of  love.* 

but,  on  the  other  hand,  in  Rank  and  File,  in  The  Barrel  Organ, 
and  in  The  Trumpet-Call,  the  trick  of  repetition  is  used  very  effec- 
tively to  legitimate  ends.  In  "  Locking  the  ranks  as  they  form  and 
form  " — the  very  repetition  gives  the  intended  ideas  of  numbers 
and  of  hesitancy.  Then,  too,  in  many  of  his  narrative  pieces  the 
refrain  is  cleverly  used,  in  some,  as  in  Black  Bill's  Honeymoon,  as 
a  mere  altered  echo. 

The  descriptions  by  the  way,  while  he  is  telling  his  story, 
are  a  very  distinctive  part  of  Mr.  Noyes'  best  work.  The  opening 
lines  of  the  Tales  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern  contain  a  view  of  London 
in  the  sunset,  idealized,  from  which  the  transition  to  other  years 
is  very  easy.  He  wrote  of  Edinburgh: 

*The  Statue,  Forum,  43:478,  May,  1910. 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  301 

City  of  mist  and  rain  and  blown  gray  spaces, 
Dashed  with  wild  wet  color  and  gleam  of  tears, 

Dreaming  in  Holyrood  Halls  of  the  passionate  faces 
Lifted  to  one  Queen's  face  that  has  conquered  the  years, 

Are  not  the  halls  of  thy  memory  haunted  places? 

This  is  not  from  a  narrative  piece,  but  it  indicates  pretty  well  the 
manner  of  Mr.  Noyes,  his  manner  of  throwing  a  glamor  of 
romance  over  things  he  has  to  depict.  We  refer  our  readers  to 
the  narrative  parts  of  The  Flower  of  Old  Japan,  which  will  serve 
as  a  good  illustration  of  this  style.  A  reference  to  Black  Bill's 
Honeymoon,  and  a  reading  of  half  a  dozen  of  the  first  stanzas, 
will  indicate  pretty  nearly  the  fashion  of  Mr.  Noyes'  ability  in 
this  direction. 

He  is  a  very  facile  writer,  with  apt  felicity  of  phrase,  and  as 
a  metrist  he  is  hard  to  surpass.  There  is  scarcely  a  rhyme-scheme, 
or  a  style  of  metre  he  has  not  tried  with  success.  His  Muse  seems 
adaptable  to  any  subject.  The  number  of  different  metres  as- 
sembled in  the  single  volume,  Tales  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern,  is 
positively  astounding.  The  clever  variations  in  Drake  from  blank 
verse  to  Spenserians  have  often  been  noted.  This  sort  of  variation 
is  of  course  commendable,  both  because  it  obviates  possibility  of 
monotony,  and  because  each  variant  metre  suits  its  own  variant 
subject. 

In  all  these  things  he  has  written  boldly  in  the  light  of  high 
ideals;  and  yet  we  dare  not  try  and  forecast  what  he  will  do. 
:t  Young  Alfred  Noyes,"  as  one  writer  has  familiarly  characterized 
him,*  is  still  young.  He  has  as  yet  but  tried  his  wings — and 
they  have  not  been  found  wanting.  That  we  may  not  appear 
alone  in  this  sentiment,  we  will  quote  the  figurative  statement  by  a 
certain  well-known  critic  of  modern  poetry,  of  thoughts  which 
have  often  come  to  our  own  mind  when  reading  these  volumes: 
"  Mr.  Noyes  has  the  instrument,  the  lute,  in  tune,  but  has  not  met 
the  revealing  hour  which  shall  give  him  a  message  for  its  strings. 
He  plays  as  yet  but  a  wandering  prelude,  through  which  at  times 
one  catches  hints  of  a  vaster  theme."t  There  are  two  things 
against  which  he  must  guard. 

'  There  is  the  fear  that  he  may  diffuse  or  squander  on  the 
present  that  power  which  he  will  surely  need  one  day  for  greater 
work  yet  undreamed  of."$  There  would  seem  to  be  some  reason 

*Nat ion,  83 : 439.          tMiss    Rittenhouse,    Putnam's,    3:364,    December,     1907. 
tBrian   Hooker,    in   the   Forum,   39 :  528,   April,    1908. 


302  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYES?  [June, 

for  this  warning  to  Mr.  Noyes,  though  he  has  done  so  well  in 
such  a  short  time.  But,  then,  to  be  sure,  Tennyson  at  his  age  had 
written  as  much — zvritten  as  much,  mind  you,  not  published  as 
much.  The  writing  and  the  practice  are  very  valuable  for  the 
improvement  of  natural  powers.  But  when  Tennyson  was  about 
the  age  of  Mr.  Noyes,  he  had  published  but  a  few  fine  poems. 
The  danger  for  Mr.  Noyes  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  prints  much 
and  represses  little.  He  does  not  criticize,  correct,  alter,  and 
re-alter,  and  then  perhaps  reject  entirely.  He  cannot.  He  has 
set  about  "  making  his  living  by  writing  poetry,"  and  he  must  pro- 
duce and  publish  a  certain  amount  each  year  in  order  to  meet  the 
demands  of  the  butcher,  the  baker,  and  the  candlestick  maker. 
It  is  unfortunate — for  Mr.  Noyes'  reputation  as  a  poet — that  he 
must  be  judged  by  all  he  writes,  and  not  by  the  best.  It  is  un- 
fortunate— for  Mr  Noyes'  development  as  an  artist — that  he  must 
publish  most  of  his  work  immediately,  and  not  lay  it  away  to 
be  corrected  and  re-written  five  years  hence. 

We  have  stated  that  his  is  essentially  a  lyric  gift.  In  two  ways 
he  is  doing  grave  injustice  to  this  gift.  It  has  been  said  that  he  is 
"  full  of  golden  promises,  but  no  single  promise  becomes  a  perfect 
poem."  This  all-exclusive  statement  is  not  admissible,  but  it  bears 
a  certain  amount  of  truth  concerning  a  dangerous  tendency.  When 
the  initial  lyric  impulse  fails  him,  he  does  not  seem  to  wait  for 
another;  but  rather,  in  order  to  satisfy  his  publishers,  writes  on 
without  inspiration.  The  present  writer  has  recently  quoted  Poe's 
statement  that  poetry  is  a  passion — and  the  passions  should  be  held 
in  reverence.  Mr.  Noyes  should  not  urge  his  Muse,  but  should 
wait  upon  her.  His  haste  to  turn  out  a  poem  and  to  finish  a 
work,  though  on  scanty  inspiration,  has  resulted  too  often  in  a  weak- 
ening of  the  poems.  All  of  Mr.  Noyes'  poems  start  splendidly; 
but  along  about  the  second  or  third  stanzas  most  of  them  begin  to 
lag.  He  usually  does  not  seem  to  have  laid  the  piece  aside  and 
awaited  a  new  impulse,  but  rather  to  have  waded  right  on  through 
several  verses,  which  become  poorer  and  poorer  with  weak  moral- 
izing. Then,  for  a  strong  conclusion,  in  order  to  end  with  a 
flourish,  he  does  not  compose  a  strong  closing  stanza,  but  often 
repeats  the  sense,  many  of  the  phrases,  or  sometimes  even  the 
whole  of  the  splendid  first  stanza.  This  is  a  tendency  very  notice- 
able in  his  work,  especially  in  the  later  volumes  of  short  poems.  We 
have  only  to  point  to  a  few  to  indicate  what  we  mean:  Rank  and 
File,  Lavender,  Act  aeon,  The  Call  of  the  Spring,  In  Memory  of 


1913.]  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYESf  303 

Francis  Thompson,  and  The  Island  Hawk.  Mr.  Noyes  need  only 
have  taken  a  bit  more  time  and  expended  a  bit  more  care,  and  these 
splendid  promises  might  have  been  perfect  poems.  The  many 
excellent  changes  made  in  the  text  of  the  Tales  of  the  Mermaid 
Tavern,  between  their  appearance  in  the  pages  of  Blackzvood's 
Magazine,  and  their  more  recent  publication  in  book  form  in  Amer- 
ica, gave  some  small  indication  of  the  degree  of  improvement  Mr. 
Noyes  might  work  upon  his  other  pieces,  if  they  did  not  have  to 
be  rushed  so  quickly  to  the  press.  With  the  richness  of  maturity, 
we  might  expect  this  fine  spirit  to  develop  self -correction. 

The  other  danger  to  which  the  genius  of  Mr.  Noyes  has 
subjected  itself  is  due,  not  to  external  circumstances,  but  to  internal 
conditions  within  his  own  mind.  He  has  said: 

To  see  that  we  are  ruled  from  the  centre  and  not  from  the 
circumference,  to  find  and  maintain  our  hold  on  that  central 
principle  of  unity,  is  the  whole  salvation  of  man.  All  social 
work  and  material  progress  are  without  foundation  if  they  be 
not  inspired  and  directed  from  thence.  There  was  a  time  when 
that  central  position  was  safely  left  to  the  keeping  of  a  great 
historical  religion ;  but  at  the  present  day  the  historical  religions 
cannot  possibly  embrace  the  vast  worlds  that  are  opening  out 
before  us  on  every  side.* 

He  has  quoted  Thomas  a  Kempis :  "  The  strongest  part  of  our 
religion  to-day  is  in  its  unconscious  poetry."  Then  he  went 
further  and  said,  "  that  all  great  art  brings  us  into  touch,  into 
relation,  with  that  harmony  which  is  the  basis  of  the  universe." 
On  the  other  hand  he  has  declared  concerning  the  present :  "  Analy- 
sis has  gone  so  far  that  we  are  in  danger  of  intellectual  disintegra- 
tion. It  is  time  to  make  some  synthesis,  or  we  ourselves  shall  be 
wandering  through  a  world  without  meaning." 

The  next  step  was  for  him  to  draw  these  scattered  threads 
together,  and  to  claim  for  his  art,  the  art  of  poetry,  the  position 
of  unifying  spiritual  agent  and  to  say :  "  Poetry  is  the  strongest 
part  of  what  is  called  religion,  because  in  the  very  broadest  and 
grandest  sense  that  can  be  given  to  the  words,  Poetry  is  Religion." 

Here  is  where  we  disagree  with  Mr.  Noyes.  Poetry  is  not 
and  cannot  be  Religion.  Religion  has  both  an  emotional  and  a 
reasonable  appeal — poetry  appeals  only  to  the  emotions,  and  so  may 
supplement  only  a  part  of  religion;  and  since  human  emotions  must 

*Lecture  delivered   at   Columbia   University,   March   7,   1913. 


304  WHO  IS  ALFRED  NOYESf  [June, 

be  guided  by  reason  to  some  extent  or  invariably  run  wrong, 
we  must  retain  this  other  part.  Religion  may  be  one  of  the  fine 
arts — but  it  is  something  in  addition.  It  derives  from  God.  Mr. 
Noyes'  poetry  is  merely  an  art  of  expression,  and  it  derives  from 
man.  The  "  didactic  religiosity "  of  Mr.  Noyes  is  a  shifting 
incoherent  sort  of  a  thing.  It  does  not  obtain  the  pure  beauty 
which  a  white  flame  of  sacred  song  should — because  Mr.  Noyes 
does  not  believe.  It  has  been  said  that  before  one  can  write 
sacred  poetry,  one  must  believe.  Mr.  Noyes  does  not  seem  to 
believe,  except  in  his  own  ability  to  reach  the  truth  through  a 
mildly  romantic  groping  towards  vastness,  and  scarcely  in  that. 
His  religious  verse  lacks  definiteness  and  strength,  because  he 
obtrudes  his  own  ideas  into  the  context.  He  merely  speaks  for  an 
undefinable,  and  attempts  to  express  concretely  an  inexpressible 
and  unconcrete  yearning.  In  his  lectures,  and  in  his  poems  in 
the  religious  tone,  Mr.  Noyes  has  impressed  the  present  writer 
as  being  filled  with  a  big  enthusiasm  which  he  could  not  compress. 
He  did  better  as  a  mystic  in  fairyland,  as  an  interpreter  of  Ghosts 
who  "  creep  in  by  candle-light " — as  Little  Boy  Blue — than  as  a 
theologian  in  the  pulpit:  There  he  was  lyric,  rather  than  didactic ; 
there  he  looked  at  Truth  and  learned,  rather  than  constructed 
a  Truth  of  his  own ;  there  he  was  most  truly  inspired. 

Lyric  genius  gives  forth  strange  music  in  didactic  measures, 
and  we  believe  it  would  be  best  that  Mr.  Noyes  should  abandon  his 
peace  propaganda  and  his  "  religion  of  poetry  "  ideas.  He  should 
confine  himself  in  publication,  for  the  present  at  least,  to  the 
wonderful  lyrics,  the  gorgeous  descriptions,  the  splendid  narratives, 
and  the  patriotic  songs  of  which  he  is  capable.  Truth  of  itself, 
once  seen,  will  spread  without  urgings.  In  the  lyric  fashion,  more 
effectively  than  in  any  other,  he  can  stir  the  good  that  lurks  within 
our  souls,  and  can  teach  us  to  know  beauty  and  to  be  made  purer 
by  it.  Mr.  Noyes  has  wonderful  abilities  and  vast  capabilities. 
An  idealist  such  as  he  has  a  work  to  do  in  England.  We  shall 
be  disappointed  if  he  abandons  his  inspiration  and  sows  his  genius 
in  barren  fields. 


THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  AND  THE  PEACE  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


BY  WILLIAM  P.    H.    KITCHIN,   PH.D. 

HE  jubilee  published  by  our  Holy  Father  for  the 
spring  and  summer  of  1913,  commemorates  an  anni- 
versary of  interest  not  only  to  the  Catholic  Church, 
but  to  every  Christian  sect  as  well.  It  is  now  just 
sixteen  hundred  years  since  the  faith  of  Christ  was 
publicly  recognized  by  the  civil  power,  and  men  were  allowed  to 
worship  God  according  to  the  dictates  of  their  conscience.  This 
wonderful  revolution  was  accomplished  by  Constantine  the  Great, 
in  his  so-called  Edict  of  Milan,  March,  313,  which  ordinance 
restored  peace  to  the  Roman  Empire,  and  while  it  conceded  toler- 
ation, paved  the  way  for  the  spread  and  ascendancy  of  Christian 
dogmas. 

According  as  the  territories  of  Rome  spread  out  on  all  sides 
and  absorbed  every  other  state,  the  empire  became  too  vast  for  a 
single  head  to  govern,  too  tin  wieldly  for  a  single  arm  to  defend. 
Gradually,  then,  the  custom  grew  for  an  emperor  to  associate  some 
colleague  with  himself  on  the  throne,  a  younger  man  preferably  on 
whom  he  might  lean,  and  to  whom  he  might  teach  the  subtle  art  of 
statecraft.  As  far  back  as  the  second  century  after  Christ,  Hadrian 
had  adopted  the  elder  Verus.  On  the  latter's  death  he  selected  as 
his  successor  Antoninus  Pius,  who  in  turn  adopted  Marcus  Aurelius. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  third  century,  Diocletian,  advancing  still 
further  in  the  way  of  dismemberment,  added  to  the  two  elder 
Emperors,  or  Augusti,  two  inferior  princes  or  Ccesars,  and  thus 
divided  the  empire  into  four  parts;  for  himself  he  reserved  Thrace, 
Egypt,  and  Asia  Minor;  to  his  life-long  friend  Maximian  he  en- 
trusted Italy,  Africa,  and  perhaps  Spain;  Galerius  was  stationed 
on  the  Danube,  and  ruled  the  Illyrian  provinces;  while  Gaul  and 
Britain  were  in  charge  of  Constantius. 

Already  the  beginnings  of  modern  nations  were  leavening 
the  gigantic  empire,  for  when  to  various  peoples  with  languages, 
customs,  and  traditions  of  their  own,  with  different  and  often  clash- 
ing interests,  a  prince  of  their  own  was  given  to  rule  over  them, 
the  cohesion  of  the  state  became  slender  indeed,  and  but  little  was 
required  to  sunder  it  into  many  warring  camps.  As  a  matter  of 

VOL.   XCVII. — 20. 


306  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  [June, 

fact  appeals  to  arms  were  frequent,  nearly  all  the  Roman  emperors 
died  violent  deaths,  and  scarcely  any  held  their  giddy  power  for 
long.  In  305  Diocletian,  the  dean  of  the  imperial  college,  after 
a  remarkable  reign  of  twenty-one  years,  resigned  the  purple,  and 
retired  to  a  luxurious  villa  at  Salona;  while  on  the  same  day,  as 
previously  concerted  between  them,  Maximian  also  descended  from 
the  throne.  Constantius  and  Galerius  now  became  Augusti,  while 
Severus  and  Maximin  Daza  were  promoted  to  the  rank  of  Caesars. 
The  latter  managed  to  maintain  himself  in  the  East  about  six 
years;  the  former  was  defeated  and  slain  eighteen  months  after 
his  elevation  by  Maxentius,  son  of  Maximian;  while  Constantine, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  Galerius,  succeeded  to  the  dominions 
of  his  father  Constantius,  and  ruled  over  Gaul,  Spain,  and  Britain. 
Maximian  now  resumed  power  for  a  short  time,  and  by  marrying 
his  daughter  Fausta  to  Constantine  (307),  he  sought  to  ally  his 
fortunes  indissolubly  with  those  of  the  rising  sun.  But  within 
a  few  years  he  became  embroiled  with  his  son-in-law,  who  ordered 
him  without  remorse  to  execution  (310).  Within  the  next  two 
years  Maxentius,  ruler  of  Africa  and  Italy  and  brother-in-law  to 
Constantine,  plotted  to  overthrow  his  colleague,  and  thus  be  un- 
disputed master  of  the  West.  The  sorcerers,  whom  he  consulted, 
promised  him  certain  victory;  the  demons,  conjured  up  before  him, 
confirmed  him  in  his  desires;  he  read  in  the  entrails  of  slain  lions 
his  coming  greatness;  and  even  human  sacrifices,  women  and  chil- 
dren, were  offered  and  interpreted  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure.* 

But  Maxentius  did  not  trust  himself  entirely  to  his  clairvoyants 
and  soothsayers;  he  had  sense  enough  to  understand  that  victory 
usually  inclines  towards  the  heaviest  battalions,  and  so  he  made 
great  efforts  to  increase  his  army.  Forty  thousand  Moors  were 
levied  in  Africa,  enormous  military  stores  were  accumulated 
throughout  Italy,  and  an  alliance  was  negotiated  with  Maximin 
Daza.  Constantine  with  his  usual  impetuosity  did  not  wait  for  the 
storm  to  burst  upon  him,  and  the  opportune  arrival  of  an  embassy 
from  Rome  asking  him  to  come  and  deliver  the  Romans  from 
Maxentius'  tyranny,  gave  him  the  excuse  he  wanted  to  strike 
the  first  blow  and  carry  the  war  into  Italy. f 

In  the  summer,  then,  of  312,  Constantine  started  from  Gaul 
and  descended  into  Italy  by  the  Great  St.  Bernard  Pass.  March- 
ing a^  the  head  of  his  legions  along  the  precipices  of  the  Alps,  he 
realized  what  a  desperate  undertaking  he  was  engaged  in ;  that  his 

*Eusebius,  Hist.  EccL,  8,    14,   5.  fGibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  ch.  xiv. 


1913.]  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  307 

opponent,  Maxentius,  had  an  army  four  times  as  great ;  the  hitherto 
impregnable  city  of  Rome  to  fall  back  upon;  the  immortal  prestige 
of  the  Roman  name,  and  the  furious  loyalty  of  the  Pretorian  guard 
to  rely  upon.  Constantine  remarked,  too,  that  his  officers  and  sol- 
diers were  depressed  and  uneasy;  that  they  felt  in  lifting  their 
arms  against  the  sacred  city  of  Rome,  they  were  vowing  themselves 
to  certain  defeat;  that  they  were  terrified  and  overwrought  by  the 
incantations  which  Maxentius  was  known  to  have  employed. 

Constantine  was  not  yet  a  Christian,  but  Christian  influences 
were  in  the  air;  he  probably  believed  in  one  God,  and  rejected 
the  innumerable  company  of  abominable  phantoms  with  which 
the  pagans  peopled  their  Pantheon;  he  realized  that  the  powers  of 
evil  were  leagued  in  favor  of  Maxentius,  and  that  unless  he  could 
interest  some  higher  power  in  his  own  favor,  his  doom  was  sealed; 
and  in  his  uncertainty,  in  his  vague  terror  and  pressing  need,  like 
Clovis  on  the  field  of  Tolbiac,  he  appealed  to  that  God,  whom  he 
scarcely  knew,  to  uphold  him  in  the  day  of  battle. 

The  emperor  began  then  [says  Eusebius]  to  implore  the  help 
of  this  God,  praying  and  beseeching  Him  to  reveal  Himself 
to  him,  and  in  the  present  crisis  to  give  him  help.  Now  while 
he  was  thus  earnestly  praying  a  wonderful  sign  was  vouchsafed 
him  from  God.  If  another  told  this  story  the  hearers  would 
hardly  believe  him.  But  since  the  victorious  Augustus  told 
me  himself  many  years  afterwards,  when  I  was  admitted  to  his 
intimacy,  and  even  confirmed  his  assertion  by  oath,  who  can 
doubt  it?  He  declares  that  he  saw  with  his  own  eyes  in 
the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  sinking  on  the  horizon,  a  lumi- 
nous cross  appear  in  the  heavens  above  the  sun  with  this 
inscription:  Conquer  by  this.  This  apparition  astounded  both 
himself  and  the  soldiers  of  his  entourage,  who  also  witnessed  it. 
And  he  began  to  ask  himself,  so  he  told  me,  what  this  wonder 
might  mean.  He  pondered  over  the  matter  a  long  time;  then 
night  came  on,  and  as  he  slept  Christ  appeared  to  him  with  the 
sign  he  had  just  seen  in  the  sky,  and  commanded  him  to  make 
a  military  standard  after  the  pattern  of  the  apparition,  and  to 
use  this  standard  as  a  protection  and  safeguard  in  his  battles.* 

Constantine  alone  had  the  dream  or  vision  explaining  to  him 
the  significance  of  the  celestial  sign;  but  the  sign  itself  had  been 
seen  by  many,  and  while  it  gave  the  Christians  unbounded  confi- 
dence, it  inspired  the  greatest  dread  among  the  pagans,  more  espe- 

*Eusebius,   Vita  Constantini,  i.,   28. 


3o8  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  [June, 

daily  when  the  augurs  present  with  the  army  pronounced  it  a  sinister 
omen  (adversum  omen)*  and  urged  the  discontinuance  of  the  expe- 
dition. But  Constantine  was  not  to  be  terrified  by  any  make-believe 
prophecies,  he  felt  sure  he  was  now  under  the  protection  of  heaven, 
and  he  caused  a  standard  to  be  made  according  to  the  pattern  that 
had  been  shown  him.  This  standard  was  the  famous  labarumrf 
which  he  subsequently  imposed  on  all  his  armies.  Eusebius  de- 
scribes it  thus : 

It  was  a  long  spear  overlaid  with  gold,  and  provided  with 
a  traverse  piece  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  The  top  bore  a  crown  of 
gold  and  precious  stones.  In  the  centre  of  the  crown  appeared 
the  sign  of  the  saving  name  (of  Jesus  Christ),  namely,  a  mona- 
gram  signifying  this  sacred  name  by  its  two  first  (Greek)  letters 
entwined,  the  P  in  the  middle  of  the  X.  From  the  traverse 
piece  hung  a  purple  veil  enriched  with  precious  stones  artis- 
tically arranged,  so  that  they  dazzled  the  eyes  with  their  splen- 
dor, and  with  golden  embroideries  of  indescribable  beauty. 
The  veil  attached  to  the  cross-piece  was  of  equal  width  and 
length,  and  had  on  its  upper  portion  the  portraits  of  the 
emperor  beloved  of  God  and  of  his  children  done  in  gold.  Con- 
stantine ever  afterwards  used  this  saving  standard,  and  had  a 
similar  one  made  for  each  of  his  armies.:}: 

The  standard  thus  fashioned  differed  very  little  in  form  from 
the  cavalry  standard  previously  in  use ;  but  no  doubt  the  monagram 
of  our  Lord,  which  appeared  on  it,  was  a  tremendous  innovation; 
and  if  on  the  one  hand  it  alarmed  little  the  religious  susceptibilities 
of  the  pagans,  to  the  Christians  it  must  have  been  the  harbinger  of  a 
new  spring.  And  when  they  saw  the  initials  of  their  long-decried 
Master  carried  proudly  at  the  head  of  a  victorious  army,  they  must 
have  realized,  with  feelings  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  describe, 
that  at  last  "the  Sun  of  Justice  had  arisen  for  them  with  healing  in 
His  wings,"  and  that  the  black  night  of  heathen  darkness  was  now 
vanishing  before  a  purer  and  holier  dawn. 

Once  in  Italy,  a  few  weeks  were  sufficient  for  Constantine 
to  conquer  all  the  north  of  the  country.  Verona  offered  some  re- 
sistance, but  the  defeat  and  death  of  its  able  leader,  Pompeianus, 

*Paneg.  Vet.,  6. 

f£he  origin  of  this  word  is  unknown.  Many  explanations  are  given  in  the 
Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities,  s.  v.,  p.  909. 

+Eusebius,  Vita  Constantini,  i.,  31.  Cf.  also  Prudentius,  Contra  Symmachum, 
i.,  464-466,  487-489- 


1913.]  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  309 

left  the  city  at  the  mercy  of  the  invader.  Constantine,  flushed  with 
victory,  and  taking  the  tide  at  its  flood,  swept  on  to  Rome,  to 
overthrow  definitely  his  rival,  and  obtain  the  empire  of  the  world 
at  one  blow.  Maxentius,  if  he  wished  to  save  himself,  had  only  to 
stand  on  the  defensive.  The  impregnable  fortifications  of  the 
imperial  city,  the  devotion  of  the  Pretorian  cohorts,  the  enormous 
supplies  accumulated,  formed  the  surest  protection,  and  Constan- 
tine's  army  was  not  strong  enough  to  take  Rome,  fully  manned  and 
garrisoned,  by  assault. 

But  Providence  decreed  otherwise,  and  as  on  another  occasion 
the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against  Sisera,  so  on  this  one 
they  fought  against  Maxentius.  Instead  of  covering  the  Tiber, 
and  disputing  its  passage  with  his  enemy,  Maxentius  marched  his 
army  along  the  Flaminian  Way  to  meet  Constantine;  their  orders 
were  to  cross  the  river  and  rest  their  rear  guard  on  its  right  bank, 
with  no  other  line  of  retreat  in  case  of  disaster  than  the  Milvian 
Bridge,  and  a  narrow  causeway  of  boats  hastily  fastened  together. 
Constantine  came  in  touch  with  their  outposts  about  two  hours' 
march  below  the  Tiber,  at  a  place  called  Saxa  Rubra,  near  the  old 
villa  of  the  Empress  Livia.  He  recognized  at  once,  with  the  eye 
of  a  consummate  general,  that  the  opposing  army  had  delivered 
itself  into  his  hands.  The  next  morning,  October  28,  312,  Con- 
stantine marched  towards  the  river  and  began  his  attack.  He  dis- 
posed his  army  with  admirable  skill,  and  selected  for  himself  the 
post  of  honor  and  danger  at  the  head  of  a  chosen  body  of  Gallic 
horse.  Meanwhile  Maxentius  in  Rome  surveyed  calmly  the  games 
of  the  Circus,  while  his  soldiers  were  pouring  out  their  blood  for 
him.  At  last  the  hisses  and  imprecations  of  the  mob  shamed 
liim  into  some  show  of  manliness.  He  sent  to  consult  the  Sibylline 
books,  and  he  was  assured  the  enemy  of  Rome  would  perish.  En- 
couraged by  this  noncommittal  reply,  he  set  out  for  the  combat 
surrounded  by  his  bodyguards.  At  his  appearance  the  battle 
raged  more  furiously,*  but  his  soldiers,  driven  back  by  the  irre- 
sistible elan  of  Constantine's  troops,  were  flung  into  the  river. 
The  disorder  soon  degenerated  into  panic;  hundreds  were  crushed 
to  death  on  the  Milvian  Bridge,  or  fell  through  the  open  spaces  of 
the  half-broken  bridge  of  boats.  Maxentius  himself  also  fell  into 
the  water,  and  weighted  down  by  his  armor,  he  sank  like  lead. 
Eusebius  bursts  into  a  paean  of  joy  over  the  victory,  and  uses 
the  ardent  strophes  of  the  canticle  of  Moses  to  express  his  thank- 

*Eo  viso  pugna   crudescit.     Lactantius.   De   Mort.   Pers.,   44. 


3io  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  [June, 

fulness  to  Almighty  God.  Such  was  the  battle  of  the  Milvian 
Bridge,  October  28,  312,  a  battle,  which  in  its  age-long  conse- 
quences, in  the  total  revolution  it  accomplished  in  ideals,  morals, 
customs,  and  everything  that  the  heart  of  man  most  clings  to,  was 
no  doubt  the  most  decisive  ever  fought  on  the  face  of  our 
globe.  Most  battles  contribute  only  to  elevate  one  country  at  the 
expense  of  another;  to  enrich  one  dynasty  and  depress  another; 
to  remedy  some  temporary  wrongs,  or  give  gratification  to  some 
private  or  national  resentment.  But  this  battle  caused  the  public 
recognition  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  sounded  the  death-knell 
of  pagan  ideals  and  methods  of  life.  Within  a  hundred  years 
from  that  time  pagan  temples  would  be  closed  by  imperial  edict, 
and  the  brutal  and  debasing  games  of  the  Circus  forbidden.  Within 
two  centuries  Justinian  dispersed  the  last  embers  of  a  dying  pagan- 
ism by  closing  the  effete  schools  of  Athens. 

Constantine  remained  about  three  months  in  Rome  to  reap 
the  spoils  of  his  victory,  and  regulate  the  affairs  of  the  city.  His 
statue  was  erected  in  one  of  the  public  squares,  and  by  his  order 
the  figure  held  in  its  hand  a  lance  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  while 
on  the  pedestal  was  engraved  the  following  remarkable  inscription, 
which  is  found  in  Eusebius,  Hist.  Ecd.  ix.,  9,  10,  n:  "By 
this  saving  sign,  emblem  of  true  courage,  I  have  delivered  your 
city  from  the  yoke  of  the  tyrant.  To  the  Senate  and  to  the  People 
of  Rome  restored  to  liberty,  I  have  given  back  their  pristine  glory, 
and  the  eclat  due  to  their  nobility." 

On  January  i,  313,  Constantine  received  at  Rome  the  investi- 
ture of  his  third  consulship,  and  shortly  after  moved  on  to  Milan, 
where  Licinius,  his  Eastern  colleague,  met  him,  and  where  their 
alliance  was  re-cemented  in  the  usual  inefficacious  way  by  a  royal 
marriage — Licinius  espoused  Constantia,  the  sister  of  Constantine. 
But  the  new  conqueror  had  more  serious  work  in  view  than  mar- 
riage festivities.  He  was  determined  to  give  religious  peace  to  his 
states,  and  he  also  wanted  to  discharge  his  obligations  to  the  God 
Who  had  helped  him  so  unexpectedly  and  so  marvelously  in  his 
hour  of  need.  From  Milan,  then,  sometime  during  the  month  of 
March,  313,  acting  in  concert  with  Licinius,  he  published  his  famous 
edict  of  toleration.  This  state  paper,  preserved  partly  by  Eusebius 
and  partly  by  Lactantius,  now  well  on  to  its  second  millenium,  is 
most  curious,  and  it  fully  deserves  reproduction,  for  it  was  the 
Magna  Charta  not  of  one  people  or  of  one  nation,  but  of  the  whole 
known  world. 


1913.]  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  311 

We  have  already  recognized  for  a  long  time  past,  that  re- 
ligious liberty  ought  not  to  be  restrained,  but  everyone  should 
be  allowed  to  follow  in  divine  things  his  own  conscience.  There- 
fore we  had  allowed  all,  not  excepting  even  the  Christians,* 
to  follow  out  their  own  creed  and  practices  of  worship.  Now 
whereas,  in  the  edict  where  such  permission  was  accorded  them, 
very  many  restrictions  were  laid  down,  it  may  have  happened 
that  in  course  of  time  some  renounced  their  liberty.f  There- 
fore when  I,  Constantine  Augustus  and  I,  Licinius  Augustus, 
happily  met  at  Milan  to  promote  the  different  interests,  that 
tend  to  public  peace,  we  considered  that  the  most  important 
matter,  and  the  one  which  ought  to  be  first  of  all  regulated, 
was  -that  of  the  respect  due  to  the  Divinity,  and  that  to  the 
Christians  and  all  others  should  be  granted  full  liberty  to  follow 
the  religion  of  their  choice :  may  this  thought  please  the  Divin- 
ity! Who  dwells  in  the  heavens,  and  render  Him  favorable 
to  us  and  to  all  our  subjects.  We  have  therefore  judged  it 
advantageous  and  reasonable  to  refuse  no  one  the  permission 
of  adhering  to  the  religion  of  the  Christians,  in  order  that  the 
supreme  Divinity,  Whose  religion  we  follow  freely,  may  grant 
us  in  everything  His  accustomed  favor  and  mercy.  Your  Ex- 
cellency (Dicatio  tua)  will  take  notice  then,  that  it  has  pleased 
us  to  suppress  all  the  conditions  which  existed  with  regard  to 
the  Christians  in  the  orders  formerly  transmitted  to  you.  At 
present  it  is  our  will  that  anyone  may  follow  the  Christian 
religion  without  the  slightest  fear  of  annoyance.  Such  are  the 
orders  we  confide  to  your  loyalty,  so  that  you  may  thoroughly 
understand  that  we  have  given  to  the  Christians  full  liberty 
to  practice  their  religion.  Your  Excellency  will  of  course  re- 
member that  what  we  grant  them,  we  grant  others  also,  who  too 
are  to  have  the  liberty  of  selecting  whatever  creed  they  prefer, 
as  is  suitable  for  the  peace  of  ^our  times,  in  order  that  no  one 
may  be  injured  in  his  honor  or  in  his  religion. 

Furthermore,  as  regards  the  Christians,  we  have  decided 
that  if  their  meeting-places — concerning  which  you  received  in- 
structions before — have  been  previously  seized  by  the  Govern- 

*Allusion  apparently  to  some  decree  anterior  to  the  Edict  of  Milan.  The 
existence  of  such  a  decree  is  admitted  by  many  writers,  but  denied  by  others. 

tEnd  of  the  preamble  of  the  Edict,  as  given  by  Eusebius. 

$The  vague  expression  "  Divinity "  occurs  several  times  in  the  course  of 
the  Edict,  and  certain  writers  have  attributed  it  to  some  pagan  secretary  of  the 
imperial  legislators.  May  not  Constantine  himself  have  purposely  chosen  this 
elastic  and  non-committal  term  that  his  Edict  might  be  equally  welcomed  by  all 
classes  and  creeds  of  his  huge  dominions?  Again,  it  must  be  remembered  that  in 
the  early  centuries  the  Christians  themselves  were  accustomed  to  refer  to  God  in  a 
veiled  and  indefinite  way.  An  inscription  of  the  cemetery  of  Callixtus  bears  the 
curious  words,  Quod  Summit  as  dedit. 


312  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  [June, 

ment  or  by  any  private  individuals,  they  are  to  be  restored 
to  the  Christians  without  any  repayment,  without  any  delay  or 
lawsuits.  Those  who  received  such  properties  as  gifts,  and 
even  those  who  paid  for  them,  will  be  obliged  to  restore  them 
as  soon  as  possible.  If,  however,  they  think  that  they  have  a 
right  to  some  proof  of  our  clemency,  let  them  put  in  a  claim 
for  compensation.  In  the  meantime,  all  these  properties  must 
be  handed  over  at  once  to  the  corporation  of  the  Christians. 
And  as  these  same  Christians  owned  not  only  places  of  meeting, 
but  also  other  properties,  which  belonged  not  to  individuals, 
but  to  the  corporation,  you  will  order  by  virtue  of  this  present 
Edict,  that  without  any  excuses  or  discussions  these  properties 
be  restored  at  once  to  their  corporations  and  communities — 
in  which  matter  you  will  follow  the  procedure  already  laid 
down,  namely,  that  those  who  restore  promptly  may  expect 
some  indemnity  from  our  clemency.  On  all  these  points  you 
are  to  lend  your  assistance  to  the  Christian  community  that 
our  orders  may  be  quickly  executed,  because  they  are  favorable 
to  public  tranquility.  May  the  divine  favor,  as  was  said  above, 
which  we  have  already  experienced  in  such  important  matters, 
procure  us  always  success,  and  at  the  same  time  obtain  the  happi- 
ness of  all. 

In  order  that  this  act  of  our  clemency  may  be  known  to  all, 
you  will  take  care  to  publish  it  officially  everywhere.* 

Such  was  the  Edict  of  Milan,  which  proclaimed  with  no 
uncertain  sound  the  emancipation  of  Christendom.  In  every  sen- 
tence of  the  Edict  rings  the  tone  of  a  master — a  master  who 
knows  his  power,  is  accustomed"  to  unquestioned  submission,  and 
has  no  intention  of  brooking  disobedience  to  his  orders.  But  apart 
from  the  imperious  tone  of  the  document,  what  gives  the  highest 
notion  of  Constantine's  power  is  the  law  of  expropriation  embodied 
in  his  decree.  Not  only  must  the  State  disgorge  its  ill-gotten 
plunder,  but  private  individuals  as  well — every  vile  informer,  every 
unjust  judge,  every  rapacious  proconsul  or  provincial  governor, 
must  restore  to  the  Christians,  without  excuse  and  without  delay, 
what  formerly  they  filched  from  their  unoffending  victims.  Even 
the  great  Napoleon,  who  was  not  a  man  to  stop  at  a  trifle,  did  not 
feel  strong  enough  to  restore  to  the  re-established  Church  of  France 

*Prolata  programmate  tuo  hcsc  scripta  et  ubique  proponere  et  omnium  scientiam 
te  perferre  conveniet.  Lactant.  1.  c.  The  prefect  of  the  Pretorium  was  charged 
with  publishing  the  emperor's  orders,  either  integrally  or  in  resume.  Such  publica- 
tion received  the  name  of  edict,  because  it  was  addressed  to  all.  Cf.  Post  edictum 
mown  quo  secundiim  mandata  tua  hceterias  esse  vetueram,  Pliny  to  Trajan,  x.,  97. 


1913.]  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN  313 

the  properties  robbed  from  her  during  the  Revolution,  nor  did  Pius 
VII.  ask  him  to  do  so.  Such  a  wholesale  act  of  restitution  gives 
the  highest  idea  of  the  autocratic  power  of  the  masterful  emperor, 
and  also  of  the  sense  of  justice  in  a  soul  that  was  as  yet  scarcely 
Christian. 

To  the  mind  that  loves  to  muse,  the  Edict  of  Milan  opens 
up  interminable  trains  of  thought.  Sixteen  centuries  have  passed 
since  Constantine  gathered  the  reins  of  power  into  his  eager  and 
ambitious  hands;  sixteen  centuries  since  with  a  stroke  of  the  pen 
he  removed  the  sentence  of  outlawry  from  millions  of  loyal  sub- 
jects. The  world  has  been  made  over  a  dozen  times  in  that  long 
period.  Constantine  has  passed  away;  his  dynasty;  his  empire; 
the  palaces  he  built;  the  monuments  he  reared;  the  language  he 
spoke,  are  all  things  of  the  past;  on  the  ruins  of  the  empire  he 
founded  other  kingdoms  sprang  up;  they  too  have  completed  their 
cycle;  they  weakened  and  died.  One  thing  alone  survives,  which 
flourished  when  Constantine  lived  and  walked  this  earth — the 
Catholic  Church.  There  was  a  Pope  in  Rome  in  313,  he  was 
called  Sylvester  I.;  there  is  a  Pope  in  Rome  to-day,  Pius  X.,  and 
an  unbroken  succession  links  Sylvester  of  the  fourth  century  with 
Pius  of  the  twentieth.  Sylvester  was  known  only  in  a  few  places — 
in  Italy,  Gaul,  Roman  Africa,  Asia  Minor,  and  the  islands"  of  the 
Mediterranean,  perhaps  forty  million  subjects  acknowledged  his 
sway;  even  in  his  own  city  thousands  did  not  know  him,  he  was 
merely  the  chief  of  a  small  and  despised  sect.  Pius  X.  is  the  spiritual 
head  of  three  hundred  million  devoted  children;  his  name  is  on 
every  tongue ;  his  portrait  is  in  countless  homes.  From  the  farthest 
ends  of  the  earth  innumerable  pilgrims  journey  every  year  to  Rome 
to  honor  and  reverence  the  Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth.  And  so  the 
changing  kaleidoscope  of  the  world  and  of  history  ever  passes  on; 
one  thing  alone  remains  unchanged  amidst  the  ruins  of  time,  the 
Catholic  Church  and  its  Vicar,  against  whom  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness have  ever  contended  and  shall  ever  contend  in  vain. 


THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE. 

BY    EVELYN    MARCH    PHILLIPPS. 


HE  Renaissance  is  accepted  as  the  second  great  crea- 
tive period  of  the  world,  and  from  it  date  the  chief 
origins  of  modern  thought  and  art  and  social  life. 
It  has  been  spoken  of  as  the  emancipation  of  the 
modern  world,  as  the  rise  of  the  consciousness  of 
freedom  in  the  reason  of  mankind,  and  it  is  perhaps  even  more 
full  of  things  suggested  than  of  things  achieved.  This  awaken- 
ing is  not  to  be  measured  by  any  short  space  of  time,  and  though 
the  period  preceding  it  is  obscure,  and  the  contrast  between  mediaeval 
darkness  and  the  light  of  the  Revival  is  one  of  the  most  dramatic 
in  history,  the  effect  is  not  so  absolute  as  at  first  appears.  Yet  while 
the  elements  can  be  traced,  striving  dimly  as  the  human  mind 
emerged  out  of  darkness,  there  is  unmistakably  a  moment  when 
light  is  triumphant,  and  in  which  all  those  tendencies  which  had  been 
gathering  intensity  concentrate  and  constitute  a  vital  force.  A 
moment  compared  to  which  all  the  preceding  indications  were  but 
as  the  ripening  of  the  wood,  which  culminates  at  length  in  flower 
and  fruit. 

This  time  of  fruition  was  signalized  in  two  ways:  by  an 
outburst  of  intellectual  activity,  and  by  an  outburst  of  artistic 
activity.  The  second  was  the  inevitable  outcome  of  the  first, 
conceived  and  dictated  by  it,  and  the  intellectual  awakening  was 
from  a  very  early  date  formed  and  fostered  consciously  and  en- 
thusiastically upon  lines  bequeathed  by  the  classic  tradition.  For 
in  spite  of  all  the  misfortunes  which  had  befallen  Italy,  and  the 
degeneration  and  destruction  which  had  been  the  inevitable  result 
of  the  long  dominion  of  barbarism,  her  old  classic  past  was  inerad- 
icable. The  Latin  nature  still  had  within  it  those  attributes  and 
inclinations  which  had  long  before  drawn  the  Romans  to  appreciate 
and,  as  far  as  they  were  able,  to  assimilate  the  spirit  of  classic 
Greece.  Society  had  been  broken  up,  reduced  to  separate  and 
impotent  particles ;  the  classic  communities  had  been  shattered  into 
fragments;  the  few  signs  which  emerge  from  the  darkness  con- 
stitute no  more  than  a  blind  groping  after  a  tradition  which  had 
lost  its  significance.  Nevertheless  as  isolation  and  stagnation  at 


1913-]     THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    315 

last  began  to  yield  to  social  consciousness,  it  became  apparent 
that  the  old  mature  Latin  element  still  formed  the  basis  of  popula- 
tion, and  in  every  aspect  of  its  revival  the  country  went  back  to 
classic  forms. 

The  desire  for  learning  was  from  the  first  directed  by  this 
Latin  bias.  Already  in  Dante  the  ripeness  of  a  race  that  has  never 
been  barbarian  is  to  be  recognized,  and  long  before  the  fall  of 
Constantinople  poured  a  flood  of  professors  into  Europe,  the  study 
of  the  classics  had  reached  a  kind  of  maturity.  At  first,  indeed, 
the  Latin  authors  were  read  from  a  feeling  of  reverence,  and  as 
affording  illustrations  and  allegories  for  mediaeval  modes  of  thought, 
rather  than  with  any  idea  of  assimilating  the  culture  of  the  past, 
or  of  throwing  light  on  present  conditions.  It  is  with  Petrarch 
that  the  idea  first  takes  shape,  that  within  the  literature  of  ancient 
Rome  was  to  be  found  the  secret  which  wrould  re-create  the  Golden 
Age,  which  would  lead  his  own  world  back  to  the  arts,  refinements, 
and  graces  of  life.  After  having  rescued  every  scrap  of  Latin  liter- 
ature which  still  survived,  he  discovered  that  behind  that  influence 
lay  another,  still  more  potent,  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Greeks.  A 
mind  afire  with  a  passionate  attraction  to  the  Old  World,  soon 
divined  the  forces  that  lay  hid  in  Greek  form  and  Hellenic  literature, 
and  at  his  suggestion  Boccaccio  set  himself  to  do  for  the  Greeks 
what  his  master  had  done  for  the  Latins. 

Largely  by  the  efforts  of  these  two  great  men  of  letters  was 
it  established  (as  Sir  R.  C.  Yelf  says)  that  "  there  had  been  a  time 
when  men  had  used  all  their  faculties  and  minds  without  fear  or 
reproof freely  seeking  for  knowledge  in  every  field  of  specu- 
lation, and  for  beauty  in  all  the  realms  of  fancy The  pagan 

view  was  once  more  proclaimed,  that  man  was  made  not  only  to 
toil  and  suffer,  but  also  to  enjoy."  It  was  thus  that  Humanism 
first  appeared,  bringing  a  claim  for  the  mental  freedom  of  man,  and 
for  the  full  development  of  his  being.  Both  Italy  and  Greece  were 
ransacked  for  classical  manuscripts.  Hundreds  of  works  were 
discovered,  sometimes  in  the  most  obscure  hiding  places,  long 
forgotten  in  remote  monasteries,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century  almost  the  full  range  of  classical  literature  was  open  to 
investigation.  Enthusiasm  was  at  first  indiscriminate  and  undis- 
cerning,  but  to  Florence,  which  from  the  beginning  took  control 
of  the  movement,  and  in  Florence  especially  to  Cosimo  de'  Medici, 
was  owing  the  establishment  of  professorships,  the  endowment  of 
academies,  and  the  introduction  of  eminent  Greek  savants,  so  that 


316    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE     [June, 

instruction  was  insured,  and  that  critical  faculty  developed  which 
secured  form  and  coherency  to  the  movement  The  spirit  of  free 
inquiry ;  the  determination  to  assimilate  and  incorporate  all  that  was 
best  in  the  civilization  of  the  past;  the  creed  that  all  learning  is 
ultimately  valuable  as  it  bears  upon  life,  were  convictions  with 
which  the  leaders  of  Renaissance  thought  set  themselves  to  build 
up  life  afresh. 

Looking  back  across  a  wide  chasm  of  barren  centuries,  the 
men  of  the  Florentine  Revival  beheld  a  system  of  civilization  sin- 
gularly complete,  with  an  art,  a  philosophy,  a  form  of  government, 
a  literature,  even  an  ideal  of  conduct,  all  formed  by  and  answering 
to  the  intellectual  standard.  Intellectualists  themselves,  they  set 
the  classic  achievement  before  them  as  an  attainable  goal,  or  bent  all 
their  energies,  all  the  newly-aroused  forces  of  the  mind,  to  recap- 
ture that  particular  kind  of  wisdom,  and  that  particular  kind 
of  beauty,  which  had  been  the  attributes  of  the  Greeks.  They 
exalted  the  pagan  plan  of  life,  and  were  ready  to  follow  it  whither- 
soever it  led.  "  To  the  Florentine  mind  nothing  is  arduous,"  was 
a  proverb  of  the  time.  Mental  effort  was  welcomed  rather  than 
shirked.  The  happiness  which  we  recognize  as  belonging  to  the 
Renaissance,  springs  not  so  much  from  results  achieved  as  from 
the  sensation  of  the  activity  of  the  mind  itself.  The  cast  of 
Florentine  thought  was  scientific  and  realistic,  yet  alone  among 
Italian  states  Florence  had  captured  not  only  the  old  studious 
spirit,  but  also  the  warm,  living,  human  side  of  paganism.  En- 
joyment above  all  was  the  distinctive  note,  but  it  was  no  ordinary 
conception  of  enjoyment.  Physical  pleasure  had  its  place,  but  it 
was  leavened  by  a  high  ideal  of  the  mind.  Delight  in  learning; 
in  art;  in  treasures  of  the  ancient  and  modern  world;  in  the  gay 
and  easy  society  of  friends;  in  intercourse  with  the  learned  and 
cultured;  in  leisure,  combined  with  a  strong  and  conscious  love 
of  nature;  a  keen  and  thrilling  zest  for  small  as  well  as  great 
pleasures;  go  to  make  up  that  wonderfully  stimulating  and  intense 
existence  which  we  recognize  in  the  springtime  of  the  Renaissance. 
It  was  in  the  person  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  that  we  may  almost  say 
this  spirit  was  incarnated.  He  is  the  type  of  his  generation; 
the  leading  influence  in  this  vital,  pulsating  city;  the  centre  of  a 
brilliant  concourse,  alive  with  discussion  and  wit  and  social  fas- 
cination. "  A  being  endowed  with  fire  and  radiance,  and  the 
power  of  drawing  all  men  to  him." 

Nevertheless  an  exclusive  demand  for  the  rational,  combined 


1913-]     THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    317 

with  deliberate  adherence  to  the  joy  of  life,  must  be  naturally 
calculated  to  undermine  the  spiritual  faculty  in  man  and  the  religion 
it  had  nourished.  Though  the  revival  of  learning  was  not  at 
first  anti-Christian,  or  certainly  not  anti-ecclesiastical  (for  two 
of  the  most  famous  Humanists  of  their  day  became  Popes),  yet 
it  afforded  a  powerful  incentive  to  men  to  break  loose  from  the 
trammels  which  Christianity,  as  expressed  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
had  thrown  around  thought  and  conduct.  The  more  spiritual 
forms  of  religion  could  hardly  go  far  among  a  people  who  refused 
to  read  the  Bible  for  fear  that  its  archaic  Latin  should  injure 
their  style. 

The  Academy  of  the  Renaissance  meant  a  concourse  of  select 
and  sympathetic  souls,  who  met  together  to  give  free  play  to  the 
intellectual  fancy  and  the  critical  faculty,  and  to  probe  into  and 
play  with  the  problems  of  life  and  philosophy  suggested  by  the 
study  of  the  ancient  writers.  The  leaders  of  society,  in  short, 
were  impressed  with  the  belief  that  thought  and  intellect  were  con- 
fined to  classic  sources,  and  that  Christian  writings  were  to  be 
associated  with  the  barbaric  centuries. 

And  in  this  faith  the  men  of  the  Renaissance  had  no  uncertain 
guide.  Greek  culture  is  remarkable  for  the  very  perfect  intellectual 
ideal  it  holds  up.  Beauty,  broad  and  clear,  knowledge,  joyousness, 
repose,  and  constancy  had  made  up  the  Hellenic  plan.  The  Greek 
was  self-reliant,  free  with  the  freedom  of  understanding,  making 
a  deliberate  selection  from  the  elements  of  human  life,  calmly  re- 
signed to  the  inevitable,  and  distrusting  every  thought  and  assertion 
which  could  not  give  a  clear  account  of  itself.  "  Wealth  of 
thought  not  wealth  of  learning"  was  the  thing  they  coveted;  it  is 
the  striking  saying  of  Democritus.  Handed  clown  by  letters  to 
Rome,  this  became  the  note  of  classic  culture.  When  we  speak 
to-day  of  "  the  classic,"  it  is  not  so  much  a  special  or  particular 
knowledge  we  mean,  as  the  capacity  for  seeing  things  in  their 
relation  to  life.  We  imply  that  enlargement  of  the  mind,  that 
mental  completeness  which  is  capable  of  a  wide  survey,  and  we 
also  imply  the  manner  which  corresponds;  the  moderation,  calm- 
ness, and  lucidity  which  are  characteristic  of  the  classic  type.  And 
just  as  Greek  poetry,  more  than  that  of  any  other  nation,  is  the 
expression  of  the  people's  collective  life,  so  Greek  learning  draws  its 
inspiration  not  so  much  from  solitary  study,  as  from  noble  com- 
panionship and  ideal  human  intercourse.  Learning  was  not  to 
be  enjoyed  in  seclusion.  Greek  culture  was  not  estranged  from  the 


318    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE     [June, 

life  of  the  community,  but  became  a  link  with  citizenship.  We 
see  in  the  Greek  men  of  genius  an  extraordinary  union  of  contrasted 
qualities,  so  that  the  scientific  discoverer  is  also  a  poet,  and  the  mer- 
chant is  a  profound  physicist,  or,  like  Pythagoras,  a  mystical 
theologian,  an  astronomer,  a  musician,  an  original  mathematician. 
"  We  see  in  them  the  conjunction  of  a  rich,  an  inexhaustible  imag- 
ination with  a  keen  critical  faculty,  a  restless,  wondering,  question- 
ing spirit,  fearless  of  consequences,  bringing  all  things  to  the  test 
of  reason."  A  people  observedly  practical,  yet  sternly  idealistic, 
endowed  with  such  diverse  and  varied  qualities  as  insured  success 
in  every  field  of  human  activity. 

Such  was  the  perfect  scheme,  perfect  in  the  intellectual  sense, 
which  the  men  of  the  Renaissance  aspired  to  make  their  own, 
and  for  a  short  time,  at  least  in  Florence,  it  seemed  as  if  environ- 
ment and  personalities  were  combining  to  lead  them  to  success, 
and  if  Florence  had  been  more  truly  the  centre  of  Italy,  that  success 
might  have  been  deeper  and  more  lasting.  What  then  were  the 
detrimental  forces  at  work,  and  in  what  forms  do  we  become 
aware  of  their  presence? 

The  problems  which  met  mankind  on  the  eve  of  the  Renais- 
sance could  not  be  solved  after  mere  study  of  ancient  art.  A  whole 
inner  life  had  risen  upon  the  ruins  of  classic  life,  created  by  Chris- 
tianity, with  its  remorse,  its  humiliations,  its  sufferings,  and  had 
altered  and  multiplied  the  faculties,  and  thrust  new  sorrows  and 
uncertainties  upon  the  consciousness  of  the  human  mind.  Under 
the  seeming  triumphs  of  Italian  intellectualism,  a  spirit  was  at 
work  by  which  the  Greek  philosophy  had  remained  untroubled.  A 
half-dead  Christendom  was  awaiting  an  awakening.  The  twelfth 
century  was  a  time  when  too  many,  totally  enslaved  by  things  tem- 
poral, were  unduly  covetous  of  honor  and  wealth,  or  merely  spend- 
ing their  lives  in  pleasure.  Power  was  in  the  hands  of  a  few, 
who  used  it  for  little  else  than  to  oppress  the  poor.  The  infection 
of  the  common  vices  had  even  spread  to  those  who,  by  their  calling, 
ought  to  have  given  example  to  all*  But  ere  the  first  springs  stirred 
of  the  intellectual  life,  they  were  forestalled  by  that  spiritual  Ren- 
aissance with  which  it  may  be  compared. 

St.  Francis  stands  for  that  very  thing  which  classic  culture, 
with  all  its  noble  attainment,  did  not  contain;  for  that  which  the 
Renaissance  itself  disavowed  and  despised;  for  the  strong  spiritual 
note  which  had  been  the  dominant  aim  all  through  early  mediaeval 

^Encyclical  letter  of  Leo  XIII.   on  centenary  of  St.   Francis. 


'1913.]     THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    319 

life.  Mediaeval  life  had  suffered  because  the  spiritual  faculty  had 
not  been  sufficiently  sustained  by  the  light  of  reason.  Classic  life 
liad  suffered  because  the  intellectual  faculty  had  not  been  completed 
by  the  spiritual  faculty.  Both  lives  had,  as  it  were,  been  lopsided. 
The  Renaissance  and  the  two  master  faculties  of  the  human  mind 
(which  it  should  be  the  aim  of  all  thought  to  reconcile)  were  pitted 
against  one  another. 

St.  Francis  is  in  perfect  sympathy  with  the  great  monastics 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  His  own  realization  of  spiritual  peace  and 
rapture  echoes  the  note  of  St.  Anselm  and  his  contemporaries,  so 
eloquent  of  the  delight  of  the  inward  vision;  so  full  of  unearthly 
love  for  souls;  so  alive  with  a  very  melody  of  hope.  The  point 
of  view  of  the  Saint  of  Assisi  is  absolutely  opposed  to  all  those  ten- 
dencies which  went  to  make  up  the  Renaissance.  To  the  delight 
in  amassing  rare  and  costly  treasures  of  art,  to  making  life 
exquisite,  he  opposed  the  freedom  of  utter  poverty.  To  set  against 
the  joie  de  vivre  of  worldly  circles,  he  brought  the  joy  of  the  spirit, 
the  "  perfect  blitheness  "  afforded  by  the  shaking  off  of  every 
trammel  of  the  senses.  Instead  of  the  delight  of  reason  and 
intellectual  culture,  he  possessed  the  inward  vision  of  those  who  live 
by  faith.  The  joys  of  companionship  belonged  to  him  as  much  as 
they  did  to  the  circle  of  Lorenzo,  but  there  were  no  bounds  to  that 
fellowship.  The  souls  of  all  men  were  embraced  by  his  affection, 
and  beyond  all  that  had  ever  yet  been  attempted,  he  had  the  vision  of 
man's  union  with  nature  through  its  Creator.  Instead  of  the  scien- 
tific investigation  of  natural  laws,  the  theories  of  Copernicus  and 
Galileo,  he  is  awake  to  every  detail  in  the  world  of  nature.  His 
love  and  joy  in  it  is  something  apart  from  learning.  It  has  the 
sharp,  keen  note  of  spiritual  affinity.  The  vision  of  a  poet  is  his, 
He  "  hears  the  grass  grow  and  the  squirrel's  heart  beat."  "  Our 
little  sisters,  the  larks;"  "our  little  brothers,  the  lambs;"  "our 
brother,  the  wind;"  "our  sister,  the  water;"  "our  noble  brother, 
the  sun  "  were  personalities  in  that  life,  half -childlike,  half -angelic, 
and  his  extraordinary  sympathy  for  all  created  things  had  a  mag- 
netic effect  on  all  natures  with  which  he  came  in  contact. 

The  attitude  and  character  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  the  stretch- 
ing forth  of  his  whole  being  in  self-forgetfulness,  is  the  secret  of 
his  vast  influence.  Welded  with  a  magnetic  personality,  it  was  a 
power  which  never  failed  him.  It  accounts  for  the  entire  grasp 
which  he  had  on  the  minds  and  hearts  of  his  associates.  He  re- 
flected and  evoked  what  was  in  the  heart  of  the  people,  and  they 


320    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE     [June, 

learned  from  him  to  live  in  the  hope  of  immortality.  The  great 
men  of  the  Renaissance  loved  success  and  genius  and  prosperity, 
but  St.  Francis  was  the  idol  of  the  poor  and  weak  and  wretched, 
whose  lot  he  shared  and  understood,  as  with  unfeigned  joy  he 
welcomed  as  his  spouse  the  Poverty  of  the  Lord  Christ. 

So  with  astonishing  rapidity  the  Franciscan  movement  made  its 
"way,  and  in  the  course  of  a  very  few  years  a  network  of  religious 
houses  was  established  in  the  name  and  spirit  of  St.  Francis  all 
over  central  Italy.  The  foundation  of  the  Tertiary  Order,  unlike 
anything  that  had  ever  been  attempted  before,  drawing  laymen 
within  the  magic  circle,  had  an  effect  which  cannot  be  over-esti- 
mated in  securing  a  hereditary  adherence  to  his  principles.  For  two 
hundred  years  St.  Francis  was  the  greatest  power  at  work  in  the 
growing  civilization  of  Europe,  and  though  by  the  end  of  the 
fourteenth  century  the  force  and  spring  of  the  movement  seemed 
to  have  spent  its  strength,  the  visible  effects  had  given  way  to  those 
influences  less  salient,  but  as  tenacious,  which  in  their  subtle,  silent 
fashion  asserted  the  survival  of  demands  which  are  never  far 
away  from  the  heart  of  man. 

Such,  in  brief  outline,  seem  to  have  been  the  two  currents  of 
thought,  the  one  intellectual,  the  other  spiritual,  which  acted  upon 
the  Renaissance.  Of  these  the  former  is  most  on  the  surface 
and  most  in  evidence,  and  has,  therefore,  monopolized  the  larger 
share  of  attention.  Nevertheless,  felt  rather  than  seen,  and  often 
to  be  detected  in  its  effects  where  not  directly  apparent,  the  spiritual 
influence  constantly  operates.  Attracted  by  the  militant  exploits 
of  the  intellectual  faculty,  historians  of  that  epoch  are  prone  to 
concentrate  upon  it  their  attention  and  eloquence.  But  there 
is  a  kind  of  record  more  trustworthy  than  historical  re- 
search, which  suffers  from  no  such  exclusiveness.  Art  is  an 
expression  of  life,  which  overlooks  no  factor  that  has  contributed 
essential  elements  to  that  life  which  it  records,  and  the  art  of  the 
Renaissance  throughout  its  course  faithfully  registers  the  action 
of  the  spiritual  influences  which  were  at  work  in  the  heart  of 
society.  Such  a  testimony,  however,  is  not  of  a  kind  that  can  be 
summarized  in  a  sentence  or  two,  and  to  that  part  of  the  subject 
I  hope  to  return  on  a  future  occasion. 


THE  SPELL  OF  ROME. 

BY   JOSEPH    FRANCIS    WICKHAM. 

N  Rome  a  man  might  wish  to  live  a  lifetime,  and 
wisely,  I  think,  would  he  choose  if  he  elected  this 
city  as  his  home.  But  the  traveler,  whose  time  is 
limited  by  the  brief  span  of  weeks  or  months,  will 
all  too  soon  behold  the  shadow  of  departure  hanging 
over  him;  will  all  too  early  hear  the  voice  calling  the  hours  and 
bidding  him  go.  So  it  will  come  to  pass  that  in  the  late  hours 
of  some  golden  afternoon  you  will  find  yourself  enjoying  your 
last  drive  through  the  Pincio,  those  beautiful  gardens  of  dream 
by  the  Villa  Medici.  You  are  not  alone,  for  all  Rome  is  here, 
gentle  and  simple,  throngs  of  the  humbler  on  bench  or  walk,  a 
splendid  procession  of  the  city's  proud  in  crested  coach.  And 
perhaps  the  band  is  playing  music  ever  so  sweet,  melody  that 
sweeps  your  soul's  memories  and  searches  out  the  tender  corners 
of  your  heart,  so  that  you  cannot  escape  the  gentle  challenge  and 
cannot  forget.  Indeed  you  came  not  to  the  Pincio  to  forget  Rome 
and  the  sadness  of  your  departing,  for  the  exquisite  pain  at  the 
leaving  is,  too,  of  the  city's  gifting  and  of  the  subtle  fragrance  of 
her  charm.  And  there  is  no  forgetting  Rome,  any  more  than 
there  is  the  forgetting  your  first  view  of  the  sea,  or  the  crimson 
glow  of  sunrise  over  snowy  hills,  or  the  last  dear  smile  on  a  loved 
one's  face.  But  the  music,  perhaps,  is  in  the  proper  modulation 
for  your  sorrow,  and  its  tender  melancholy  chimes  full  wonderfully 
with  your  farewell  emotions,  and  there  is  never  a  cadence  or  a  phrase 
that  blends  not  with  some  passion  within  you,  and  that  does  not 
touch  a  responsive  motive  in  the  depths  of  your  throbbing  heart. 
So  it  is  that  as  you  drive  about  the  beautiful  garden  you  begin 
to  think  of  all  you  are  losing  when  you  lose  Rome. 

It  seems  very  long  ago  since  you  came  up  from  gay  Naples  to 
this  old  city ;  some  of  Rome's  eternity  seems  to  have  detached  itself 
and  become  allied  in  fragment  to  your  stay.  For  Rome  is  so  old, 
so  full  of  history,  so  like  a  pyramid  in  her  layer  upon  layer  of 
chronicle,  that  your  sojourn  has  made  you  feel  that  all  the  school- 
learned  pages  are  with  you  again,  with  all  the  years  of  their  some- 
times weary  pondering.  But  there  is  no  weariness  engendered 

VOL.   XCVII.— 21. 


322  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  [June, 

in  reading  history  in  the  stones  of  Rome's  monuments,  no  eloquence 
lost  upon  unwilling  hearts  in  the  unceasing  sermon  of  the  yellow 
Tiber.  And  it  is  a  joy  to  think  about  it  all  as  you  drive  along  the 
flower-bordered  lanes,  and  look  over  toward  the  sunset. 

You  remember  the  morning  you  saw  the  Forum  for  the  first 
time,  and  called  to  life  the  dead  days  of  the  republic  and  the 
empire,  and  the  thoughts  that  were  yours  as  you  rested  your  hand 
against  remnant  marble  that  once  felt  the  burning  veins  of  Cicero. 
You  think  of  the  stately  ruins  on  every  side,  where  so  many  plead- 
ing tears  have  been  wasted  and  so  much  red  blood  has  flown,  all  the 
desolate  relics  of  palaces  and  temples  that  once  told  the  story  of 
Roman  greatness.  Then  you  think  of  the  Colosseum,  the  boding 
name  that  you  learned  in  childhood  and  knew  so  well,  that  your 
heart  scarcely  lost  a  pulsation  when  you  looked  upon  it.  Perhaps 
it  was  when  you  stood  on  the  bare  arena  one  lovely  night,  with 
a  summer  moon  streaming  over  all  those  lonely  tiers,  that  you 
caught  the  romance  of  the  huge  pile,  the  tragic  romance  that  broke 
off  when  the  monk  Telemachus  rushed  in  and  protested  and  was 
stoned  to  death.  The  Mamertine  prison,  where  Saint  Peter  waited 
for  his  death  day ;  the  Arch  of  Titus  and  the  Arch  of  Constantine ; 
the  Palatine  Hill,  where  Romulus  lived,  if  he  lived  at  all,  and  the 
great  Augustus,  too,  and  many  another  old  Roman  emperor;  and 
the  Baths  of  Caracalla  and  Hadrian's  Mausoleum,  and  the  Theatre 
of  Marcellus  and  the  Circus  Maximus :  all  these  and  twice  as 
many  more  have  given  you  fitful  glimpses  of  Rome's  early  days, 
the  old,  old  days  that  only  the  Tiber  knows.  But  the  Tiber  flows 
on,  and  he  mocks  you  in  your  frail  and  slender  gleanings  from  his 
youth  day,  and  pities  you  that  you  have  not  seen  what  he  has  seen, 
and  congratulates  you  that  much  of  it  has  never  fallen  before  your 
eyes. 

Day  has  succeeded  day,  and  often  you  have  thought  that  you 
have  solved  the  mystery  of  the  centuries,  the  elusive  mystery  that 
has  always  fallen  about  Rome,.  But  every  solution  has  been  met 
with  a  newer  problem,  and  ever  a  fresh  voyage  of  discovery  has 
been  yours.  Finally  you  have  found  out,  and  have  been  glad 
that  at  last  you  knew  the  truth,  that  Rome  has  no  facile  way 
of  giving  herself  up,  but  charms  you  and  fascinates  you,  and  throws 
her  witchery  and  mysterious  spell  around  you,  and  woos  you,  and 
captivates  you,  in  a  hundred  varied  ways,  before  you  have  won 
the  tenth  of  her  heart.  She  is  a  fair  creature  of  infinite  variety, 
but  no  coquette  is  Rome.  For  when  you  have  caught  the  all-coy 


1913.]  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  323 

spirit  of  the  ever-changing  years  that  reckon  themselves  by  twenty- 
seven  centuries,  or  when  you  have  attained  only  a  part,  then  so 
much  is  yours,  to  have  and  to  hold,  even  until  the  very  end. 

Republican  and  imperial  ruins  have  satisfied  your  hunger  for 
classic  lore.  You  have  also  visited  the  famous  churches,  and  the 
others,  as  beautiful,  if  not  quite  so  famous.  Saint  Peter's  claimed 
you  first,  grand  Saint  Peter's,  that  you  see  even  now  through  the 
foliage,  with  Michelangelo's  dome  holding  reception  with  every 
ray  of  the  western  sun  dancing  and  sparkling  on  its  convex  face, 
all-gleaming  in  royal  splendor.  The  next  day  took  you  to  the 
church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiori.  There  are  fourscore  churches  in 
Rome  dedicated  to  the  Mother  of  God,  and  this  is  the  largest. 
The  legend  tells  you  that  on  a  certain  August  night  in  the  year 
358,  the  Blessed  Virgin  appeared  in  a  dream  to  the  Roman  patrician, 
John,  and  to  Pope  Liberius,  and  asked  them  to  build  a  church 
to  her  on  that  part  of  the  Esquiline  Hill  where  on  the  morrow 
they  should  find  snow.  Going  out  the  following  day,  they  found 
the  plan  of  the  church  outlined  in  the  glistening  white  snow.  The 
church  was  built,  and  was  named  Santa  Maria  ad  Nives.  It  was 
rebuilt  a  century  later  by  Sixtus  the  Third,  and  was  added  to 
from  time  to  time,  until  to-day  it  is  large,  and  takes  precedence 
among  all  the  churches  dedicated  to  Mary  in  Rome.  It  is  a  very 
beautiful  edifice,  with  mosaics  and  other  adornments  from  the  fifth 
century  to  the  nineteenth  in  point  of  age,  even  the  first  gold  from 
America  gilding  the  rich  ceiling.  Every  year  on  August  fifth,  the 
feast  of  our  Lady  of  the  Snow,  a  mass  of  white  rose  petals  are  show- 
ered from  the  dome  of  the  magnificent  Borghese  chapel  in  commem- 
oration of  the  wonderful  occurrence  far  back  in  the  Christian  dawn- 
ing. The  legend  may  be  true,  or  it  may  lack  foundation,  but  at  any 
rate  none  lovelier  can  be  found  in  Roman  annals. 

Perhaps  an  hour  later  you  found  yourself  within  the  vestibule 
of  San  Lorenzo  fuori  le  Mura,  another  of  Constantine's  gifts,  built 
over  the  tomb  of  the  martyred  Saint  Lawrence.  Here  it  is  that 
Pius  the  Ninth  is  laid  away.  From  this  church  you  did  not  journey 
far  to  visit  the  church  of  Santa  Croce  in  Gerusalemme,  founded 
by  Constantine's  mother,  Saint  Helena,  to  receive  the  relic  of  the 
true  Cross,  which  she  found  in  Jerusalem.  This  edifice,  like  others, 
was  consecrated  by  Pope  Sylvester.  Here  it  used  to  be  the  custom 
to  bless  the  golden  rose  which  was  to  be  sent  as  a  mark  of  esteem 
to  a  Catholic  prince  or  princess,  a  ceremony  which  now  takes  place 
in  the  Sistine  Chapel. 


324  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  [June, 

You  passed  then  to  the  calm,  peaceful  atmosphere  of  San  Gio- 
vanni in  Laterano,  the  mother  and  head  of  all  the  churches,  in 
urbe  et  orbe,  as  the  inscription  on  the  fagade  proclaims.  The 
Lateran,  and  not  Saint  Peter's,  is  distinctively  and  peculiarly  the 
church  of  the  Pope,  in  his  office  as  Bishop  of  Rome,  but  since 
the  year  1870  no  Pope  has  pontificated  at  the  high  altar.  This 
church  is  also  due  to  the  generous  spirit  of  Constantine,  and  was 
the  first  church  in  Rome  consecrated  in  public,  the  consecration 
taking  place  at  the  hands  of  Pope  Sylvester  on  November  ninth,  in 
the  year  324.  Many  times  this  great  cathedral  has  suffered  from 
fire  or  earthquake  or  plunder,  and  it  has  seen  many  restorations. 
Interesting  as  the  church  itself  is,  one  still  has  desire  to  see  the 
spiral  columns  of  the  thirteenth  century  cloisters,  a  part  of  the  mon- 
astery founded  by  the  Benedictines  from  Monte  Cassino  toward  the 
end  of  the  sixth  century.  The  cloisters  of  the  Lateran  are  the  finest 
in  Rome,  excelling  even  the  beautiful  courts  at  Saint  Paul's. 

After  a  visit  to  the  church  of  San  Sebastiano,  the  old  church 
of  pilgrimage  out  on  the  Via  Appia,  you  drove  over  to  the  basilica 
of  San  Paolo  fuori  le  Mura,  to  marvel  at  the  wondrous  nave  that 
led  you  through  the  gigantic  forest  of  beautiful  monolithic  columns 
to  the  high  altar  above  the  tomb  of  Saint  Paul.  Constantine  built 
this  church,  too,  and  it  outlived  his  cathedral  to  Saint  Peter 
by  three  centuries.  In  the  year  1823,  on  the  night  before  Pius 
the  Seventh  died,  lightning  ruined  it  almost  completely,  so  to-day's 
splendid  edifice,  more  impressive  in  some  ways  than  Saint  Peter's 
itself,  is  almost  entirely  modern.  There  are  still  mosaics  of  the 
fifth  century,  and  arches  and  columns  and  the  western  fagade  that 
come  down  from  Constantine's  time;  and  the  tomb  of  Saint  Paul 
is  ever  here,  resting  not  far  from  where  he  suffered  martyrdom. 

You  then  had  been  within  all  seven  of  the  greater  churches  of 
Rome,  the  five  patriarchal  basilicas,  and  the  other  two,  all  of  which 
have  seen  pilgrimages  from  every  land  of  the  western  world.  But 
you  remember  many  another  splendid  edifice  beside  the  seven  you 
have  just  called  to  mind.  There  is  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  del 
Populo,  founded  in  the  year  1099,  and  the  two-towered  church  of 
Santissima  Trinita  dei  Monti,  neither  of  which  is  far  away  from 
you;  Santa  Pudenziana,  erected  on  the  place  where  Saint  Peter's 
host,  Saint  Pudens,  lived;  San  Pietro  in  Vincoli,  where  Michel- 
angelo's gigantic  "  Moses "  rests ;  Santa  Maria  sopra  Minerva, 
the  one  mediaeval  Gothic  church  of  Rome,  erected,  as  its  name  sug- 
gests, over  the  ruins  of  Minerva's  temple,  and  containing  Michel- 


1913.]  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  325 

angelo's  "Risen  Christ;"  San  Luigi  de  Francesi  and  Santa  Maria 
dell'  Anima,  the  one  the  national  church  of  the  French,  the  other 
the  church  of  the  Germans;  Santa  Maria  della  Pace,  where  Ra- 
phael's "  Sibyls  "  are  worth  a  visit;  Santi  Cosma  e  Damiano,  where 
exquisite  mosaics  of  the  sixth  century  will  hold  one's  attention; 
Santa  Maria  in  Trastevere  built,  the  legend  runs,  where  a  spring 
of  oil  gushed  forth  upon  the  birth  of  Christ;  and  the  beauteous 
Gesu,  the  central  church  of  the  Jesuit  Society,  the  resting-place  of 
the  order's  founder,  Saint  Ignatius  Loyola,  and  one  of  the  most 
splendid  churches  in  the  world. 

Lest  you  forget  it,  before  you  in  the  distance  is  the  level 
dome  of  the  Pantheon,  the  old  building  of  the  imperial  age,  intact  as 
nothing  of  the  olden  age  is.  Beautiful,  indeed,  is  the  effect  when 
the  sun's  rays  pour  through  the  mid-dome  aperture  and  light  the 
tomb  of  him  who  did  so  much  to  give  Rome  beauty,  the  youthful 
Raphael.  And  now  your  eyes  take  the  direction  of  the  capitol, 
and  dimly  you  discern  the  walls  of  the  old  church  of  Aracoeli  en- 
closing the  altar  that  legend  would  have  you  believe  Augustus 
built,  at  the  bidding  of  the  Sibyl  of  Tivoli,  to  the  Son  of  God. 

But  there  are  too  many  visions  to  evoke  anew,  too  many  happy 
days  to  remember ;  and  there  is  so  much  of  beauty  here  on  the  Pin- 
cian  Hill,  so  much  life,  and  so  much  suggestion  of  wonders  in  the 
view  over  the  lower  levels,  that  your  dreams  are  broken  at  times, 
and  for  the  moment  you  forget  that  you  are  not  to  stay  in  Rome. 
But  soon  again  you  will  fall  into  reverie,  when  some  lovely  foun- 
tain murmurs  too  sadly,  or  some  cool  palm  seems  to  wave  you  good- 
bye in  the  gently  falling  afternoon.  Perhaps  your  thoughts  journey 
far  down  the  Via  Appia,  where  the  tombs  of  once-proud  Roman 
patricians  lie  in  ruins,  and  where  the  cold  vaults  of  the  catacombs 
are  eloquent  as  gospel- word  or  psalm  of  David;  and  then  they 
travel  over  toward  the  pyramid  and  tomb  of  Caestius  to  where  the 
shadow-laden  Protestant  cemetery  shelters  the  relics  of  many  a 
foreign  lover  of  Rome.  Here  the  poet  Keats  lies  at  rest,  and  over 
his  grave  are  blossoming  pretty  pansies  that  some  Ophelia,  per- 
haps, once  planted  to  make  our  thoughts  linger  more  lovingly  when 
we  come.  More  than  one  sigh  of  tribute  is  due  to  the  poet  of 
beauty's  soul,  who  wrote  in  the  deep  and  soft  and  silvery  music 
that  is  like  a  breath  blown  over  the  mortal  world  from  across 
the  courts  of  Apollo.  The  name  of  him  who  could  breathe  into 
an  Attic  urn  the  spirit  of  immortality  will  ever  be  written  in  colors 
glowing  and  lasting,  not  in  the  flowing  water,  as  the  chiseled  in- 


326  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  [June, 

scription  would  have  it.  Not  far  away  rests  the  heart  of  Shelley, 
loving  even  in  the  cool  vale  of  death  beneath  the  cypress  trees 
the  friend,  the  gentle  Adonais.  Together  under  the  shadowed  vesper 
twilight  they  are  dreaming  the  poet's  dream,  and  silently  waiting, 
in  tranquil  sleep,  the  peaceful  coming  of  the  dawn. 

You  have  been  on  the  Via  Sacra,  where  the  thoughts  of  Horace 
haunted  you,  and  the  unwelcome  companion  that  once  accompanied 
him  on  his  walk.  Here,  too,  you  remembered  Roman  triumphs 
that  filled  the  street  with  tumultuous  salvo-cheers,  and  you  thought 
of  the  victorious  legions,  and  the  smiling  face  of  the  elated  general, 
and  the  drooping,  shamed  countenances  of  shackled  captive  slaves. 

You  have  seen  the  famous  fountains  of  the  city,  the  graceful 
Fontana  della  Tartarughe,  the  bronze  group  of  youths  and  dolphins 
and  tortoises ;  and  Bernini's  Fontana  del  Tritone ;  and  the  Fontana 
di  Trevi,  the  finest  of  all,  telling  a  charming  story  to  whoever  will 
listen  to  the  voice  of  the  cold-flowing  water.  For  the  genius  that 
lives  in  the  Trevi  fountain  bids  you  come  some  lovely  Roman  night, 
when  the  moon  is  smiling  down  and  making  the  little  ripples  play- 
ful and  gay.  Then  the  water  god  wishes  you  to  toss  a  coin  out  into 
the  midst  of  those  tiny  pirouetting  waves,  far  out,  and  if  you  do, 
promises  that  one  day  you  will  surely  come  back  to  Rome.  You 
remember  how  you  came  here  on  a  song-swept  moonlit  night,  and, 
with  someone  you  liked  very  much,  made  the  offering;  how  you 
stood  a  moment  while  the  coins  were  finding  their  liquid  paths 
to  the  blithe  genius  of  the  fountain,  and  then  laughingly  went  away. 

You  have  visited  the  great  palaces.  The  Villa  Borghese  has 
given  you  to  look  upon  its  excellent  old  paintings ;  the  Rospigliosi 
palace  has  been  your  seeking  to  admire  Guido  Reni's  best  work, 
the  noted  ceiling-painting  of  "Aurora."  You  have  seen  the 
Lateran,  which  stands  where  once  was  the  house  of  the  rich  Roman 
Lateranus.  When  this  dwelling  became  imperial  possession  of 
Constantine,  he  gave  it  to  the  Popes  for  perpetual  domicile.  It  is 
still  church  property,  and  it  now  contains  a  great  museum  founded 
in  1843  by  Gregory  the  Sixteenth,  which  is  noted  among  other 
things  for  the  "  Dancing  Satyr,"  the  excellent  statue  of  Sophocles, 
and  the  remarkable  collection  of  early  Christian  sarcophagi.  You 
have  seen  also  the  Quirinal  palace,  built  by  Sixtus  the  Fifth  because 
the  Lateran  was  becoming  malarial. 

There  are  still  men  and  women  in  Rome,  old  now,  but  with 
memories  young  and  fresh,  who  remember  the  figure  of  Pius  the 
Ninth  standing  on  the  great  balcony  on  that  day  in  the  year  1846, 


1913.]  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  327 

and  looking  down  upon  the  thick-crowding  multitude.  For  upon 
his  election  he  had  granted  a  general  pardon  to  those  imprisoned  for 
political  offences,  and  this  day  all  Rome,  full  wild  with  delight, 
was  come  to  the  Quirinal  cheering  and  singing  in  praise  of  his 
generosity.  When  Pius  appeared,  a  loud  shout  of  welcome  greeted 
him  from  the  thousands  that  filled  the  piazza  and  the  lanes  that 
led  to  it.  Then  he  raised  his  hand,  and  in  a  hush  of  silence  they 
received  the  benediction  of  the  new  Pontiff.  And  they  went  away, 
happily  chanting  their  love  for  the  good  Pia  Nono.  But  the  kings 
of  the  Italy  that  was  born  in  1870  now  dwrell  in  the  Quirinal,  and 
the  Popes  have  since  lived  in  the  Vatican,  never  leaving  its  enclo- 
sures, but  remaining  prisoners  in  mute  protest  of  the  usurpation. 
The  incomparable  Vatican  palace  you  have  studied,  too,  and  the 
lovely  gardens  in  which  the  gentle  Pius  the  Tenth  walks  in  recrea- 
tion and  dreams  of  less  fettered  days,  and  from  which  he  can  see 
the  fair-gleaming  dome  of  Saint  Peter's. 

Still  other  palaces  are  there  in  Rome  which  you  can  remember. 
There  is  the  Palazzo  Barberini,  which  Urban  the  Eighth  built,  and 
which  is  now  the  seat  of  the  Spanish  embassy.  Near  the  Piazza 
Navona  stands  the  Palazzo  Doria,  always  reminding  one  of  Genoa's 
great  family.  The  Palazzo  Colonna  rises  near  the  spot  where  the 
old  Colonna  fortress  once  stood.  You  do  not  forget  the  Palazzo 
Venezia,  the  castellated  structure  which  Pius  the  Fourth  gave  to 
the  Venetian  republic,  and  where  the  Austrian  ambassador  now 
resides;  nor  again  the  Palazzo  Farnese,  which  was  begun  in  the 
early  sixteenth  century  by  Paul  the  Third  when  he  was  Cardinal 
Farnese,  and  where  to-day  you  may  find  the  French  ambassador. 
Many  more  palaces  of  the  early  days  you  have  likewise  seen,  so 
many  that  it  were  impossible  even  to  name  them  all. 

Many  an  hour  you  have  passed  in  the  Roman  museums.  The 
Vatican  Museum,  of  course,  is  the  most  important  in  the  city. 
After  it  ranks  the  Capitoline  Museum,  which  Sixtus  the  Fourth 
founded  in  1471.  It  is  here  you  saw  the  famous  "Dying  Gaul," 
and  the  "  Faun  "  that  the  New  England  novelist  has  given  little 
less  than  immortality.  Nearby  is  the  museum  of  the  Palazzo 
Conservatori,  which  has  the  noted  "  Bronze  Wolf  of  the  Capitol," 
and  the  familiar  "  Cumaean  Sibyl "  of  Domenichino.  A  visit  to 
the  Museo  delle  Terme,  built  on  the  site  of  the  Baths  of  Diocletian, 
disclosed  sculptures  recently  found  in  the  vicinity  of  Rome;  among 
other  treasures  Myron's  "  Discus-thrower,"  the  "  Ares  Resting," 
and  the  "  Juno  Ludovisi  "  head,  the  most  famous  in  existence. 


328  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  [June, 

You  recall  the  Greek  antiques  in  the  Museo  Barrocco;  and  the 
"  Cista  "  and  the  collection  of  early  Christian  relics  in  the  Museo 
Kircheriano,  which  was  founded  by  the  learned  German  Jesuit 

From  your  musings  on  the  treasures  of  palace  and  museum 
you  turn  to  the  contemplation  of  Roman  vicissitudes,  all  the  burn- 
ings and  sackings  Rome  has  counted  since  the  shepherds  from  Alba 
Longa  built  on  the  sloping  hills.  First  came  the  Gauls  in  the  year 
390  before  Christ,  and  reduced  the  city  to  ashes;  and  then  for 
eight  hundred  years  no  foreign  foe,  not  even  the  great  Hannibal, 
could  force  the  Roman  walls  until  the  Goths  swept  in  with  Alaric  in 
the  year  410.  Truly  Nero  had  burned  the  city,  but  if  not  a  noble 
Roman,  he  was  at  least  of  Rome,  and  no  stranger  foe.  After 
the  Goths  came  the  Vandals,  and  following  them  the  Huns.  But 
it  would  be  difficult  to  count  the  many  distressful  days  Rome 
suffered  before  the  terrible  year  of  1527,  when  the  atrocious  ruffians 
of  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  ran  mad  through  the  city,  while 
their  leader,  in  his  white  cloak,  lay  on  his  back  outside  the  wall 
with  Bernardino  Passeri's  bullet  in  his  heart.  It  is  indeed  a 
long  battle-story  that  Rome  has  written  on  her  pavements  and 
palaces  and  tall,  majestic  statues.  An  Arch  of  Titus  tells  the 
victory  of  the  Roman  over  the  Jew;  an  Arch  of  Constantine  is 
eloquent  of  the  victory  of  the  Roman  Christian  over  the  pagan 
Roman;  and  the  high  figure  of  Victor  Emanuel  speaks  the  victory 
of  a  new  house  of  kings  over  the  best  rulers  the  Romans  have 
ever  had. 

But  the  day  is  waning  now.  The  music  has  ceased  its  melody ; 
the  scarlet  ranks  of  the  German  seminary  students  have  long  re- 
turned homeward;  the  people  for  an  hour  have  been  streaming 
through  the  pathways  toward  the  gate;  the  procession  of  carriages 
has  dwindled  into  the  sparse  files  of  the  belated  few;  and  it  is 
time  to  depart,  with  a  multitude  of  memories  still  crowding  for 
recognition.  Before  you  go  you  look  once  more  on  the  dome  of 
Saint  Peter's,  no  longer  glowing  in  the  sun,  but  looming  dark 
and  beautiful  and  serene  in  the  gathering  twilight;  you  see  the 
dark  shadowed  masses  of  the  pines  on  the  crest  of  the  ancient 
Janiculum;  and  on  Monte  Maria  the  tall  cypresses  in  sad  reverie 
of  the  day  that  is  gone,  and  of  all  the  Roman  days  that  have 
silently  ebbed  away.  You  see  the  grim,  brooding,  battle-worn 
Castel  Sant'  Angelo,  the  old  tomb- fortress  that  has  felt  the  missiles 
of  catapult  and  cannon,  and  has  scorned  the  siege  of  many  a 
bafHed  foe.  Over  the  way  you  can  see  a  dozen  church  towers 


1913.]  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  329 

and  the  tops  of  high-soaring  monuments,  and  the  broad  outlines  of 
a  hundred  palace-homes.  The  Palatine  and  the  Quirinal  are  still 
visible  to  your  watching;  night  has  not  yet  enwrapped  the  colon- 
nade of  the  Victor  Emanuel  monument  on  the  Capitol;  and  the 
column  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  crowned  with  the  figure  of  Saint 
Paul,  can  still  be  seen  looking  down  upon  the  ever-coursing  throngs 
in  the  Piazza  Colonna.  The  Tiber  is  out  of  sight  of  your  search- 
ing vision,  but  you  know  it  is  there,  slowly  rolling  on,  the  thought- 
ful, chronicle-laden  Tiber,  full  of  the  joy  and  the  woe  of  the 
twenty-seven  centuries,  carrying  it  all,  even  the  breath  of  the 
approaching  night,  to  Ostia  and  the  welcoming  clasp  of  the  sea. 
So  it  was  once  on  the  evening  before  our  departure  from  Rome. 
Leaving  the  Pincio,  we  came  down  to  our  hotel  close  by,  on  the 
Via  Veneto.  Not  long  after  we  were  up  in  our  balcony  windows 
looking  out  across  the  beauteous  gardens  of  Margherita,  the  queen- 
mother,  just  beneath  us,  while  we  thought  the  thoughts  of  farewell. 
The  stars  were  creeping  along  the  edge  of  the  distant  hills,  and 
were  advancing  through  the  myriad  pathways  of  the  sky;  the 
moon  was  in  lovely  crescent,  paling  at  intervals  behind  a  scarflet 
of  fleecy  cloud,  and  then  smiling  free  and  happy,  as  it  touched  the 
green  foliage  below  with  the  mystic  white  of  its  radiance;  and 
from  some  distant  piazza  the  melody  of  sweet  sounds  was  wooing 
the  coming  night.  For  a  long  time  I  sat  still,  thinking  of  all  the 
good  and  evil,  all  the  love  and  hate,  all  the  life  and  death,  that 
the  days  and  nights  agone  had  known;  thinking  that  on  a  night 
like  this  had  love  vows  been  pledged  by  many  an  Octavius  and  Cor- 
nelia; beneath  a  moon  like  this  had  been  born  the  fond  plightings 
of  many  a  Lorenzo  and  Maddalena,  with  ever  the  cool  breezes  from 
the  Sabines  blowing  over  the  eternal  Rome ;  thinking  of  the  Roman 
matrons  of  old,  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  of  the  villa  gardens  along 
the  Tiber,  watching  the  proud  ships  of  their  lords  sail  up  the 
deep  river;  thinking  of  all  the  little  poppies  in  the  fields  beside 
the  Via  Appia  now  tossing  their  crimson  heads  in  mindful  reverence 
of  the  golden  processions  of  long  ago;  thinking  of  the  blue  sky  that 
had  watched  the  sainted  files  of  men  and  maidens  on  the  same  fair 
road  in  those  pitiful  days  of  the  Christian  dawn;  thinking  of  the 
countless  pilgrims  who  had  prayerfully  ascended  the  Scala  Santa 
through  the  centuries  and  centuries  of  an  undimmed  faith;  think- 
ing of  the  nights  when  Rome  had  wept  as  the  rallying  cries  of  "  Or- 
sini  "  or  "  Colonna  "  echoed  tempestuously  along  street  and  wide- 
spreading  piazza;  thinking  of  the  nights  when  Rome  had  laughed  as 


330  THE  SPELL  OF  ROME  [June, 

the  carnival  gayety  ran  high,  and  every  wind  that  swept  over  the 
city  was  melody-laden  and  glad;  thinking  of  all  the  art  and  the 
poetry  and  the  music  that  had  been  born  of  Rome's  magic  during 
the  years  and  years  of  her  romantic  life;  thinking  of  the  hearts 
unnumbered  that  had  loved  Rome,  and  had  felt  the  gentle  thrall- 
ing beneath  the  moons  of  the  gladsome  past;  thinking  of  the  thou- 
sand, thousand  nights  to  come  that  other  hearts  like  ours  would 
sorrow  for  their  parting  and  lament  in  welling  grief  for  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  day.  For  long  you  can  sit  here,  dreaming,  dreaming, 
dreaming,  and  sure  that  the  dream  is  not  vanity,  but  the  wist- 
ful, child-like  proof  that  the  love  of  Rome  is  in  your  heart,  and  the 
passion  for  her  never-cloying  affection  woven  firmly  in  the  fibres 
of  your  soul. 

Rome  is  all  that  you  have  wished  her  and  believed  her  and 
visioned  her.  All  this  she  is — and  more.  What  singers  have 
chanted  in  metred  music,  and  artists  have  wakened  on  breathing 
canvas  and  in  the  meshes  of  now-mellow  tapestry,  and  tellers  of 
tales  have  written  in  well-read  tomes,  all  this  she  is — and  more. 
For  the  spell  of  Rome  is  a  most  enduring  one,  and  her  charm  the 
most  illimitable  of  fascinations  this  side  of  eternity. 

But  now  no  footsteps  ever  sounded  beneath  the  windows ;  only 
occasionally  did  a  carriage  glide  along  between  the  rows  of  shad- 
owing trees;  even  the  gentle  strains  from  the  players  down  the 
street  had  died  away.  Rome  was  closing  her  life  for  the  night. 
I  looked  once  more  upon  the  silent  avenue  and  the  moon-white 
grasses  and  the  palace  of  the  queen — and  refused  to  say  good-bye. 
But  from  the  face  of  Rome  I  turned  away,  a  faithful  lover,  true 
and  leal  to  the  lady  of  my  choosing,  with  the  love  in  my  heart,  alone. 
And  in  my  dreams  I  heard  her  calling  me,  and  I  saw  myself  again 
tossing  a  coin  into  the  Trevi  fountain,  and  wondering  how  long 
life  would  endure  before  the  laughing  waters  kept  their  promise. 


THE    CONVERSION    OF    THE    ANGLICAN    BENEDICTINES. 


BY  W.   H.   WATTS. 

GREAT. deal  of  sensation  has  been  caused  in  Anglican 
circles  by  the  conversion  of  the  Anglican  Benedictine 
communities  of  Caldey  Island  and  St.  Bride's 
Abbey,  Milford  Haven,  to  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
it  has  been  thought  well  that  this  remarkable  event 
should  be  brought  before  the  notice  of  Catholics  in  America. 

The  two  communities  that  have  been  received  into  the  Catholic 
Church  consist  of  a  community  of  men,  under  the  rule  of  Abbot 
Aelred  Carlyle,  living  at  Caldey  Island  near  to  the  town  of  Tenby, 
ancf  a  community  of  women  following  the  same  observance,  form- 
erly living  at  Mailing  Abbey  in  Kent,  and  now  installed  at  St. 
Bride's  Abbey,  on  the  borders  of  Pill  Creek,  Milford  Haven.  Of 
these  two  communities,  all,  save  a  very  few,  have  made  their  sub- 
mission to  the  Holy  See. 

Of  the  attempts  in  the  Anglican  Church  made  to  revive  the 
Religious  Life  under  the  Holy  Rule  of  St.  Benedict,  Caldey  alone 
may  be  said  to  have  attained  to  any  measure  of  success;  and  its 
claim  that  it  sought  and  obtained  the  highest  ecclesiastical  authority 
in  the  Church  of  England,  is  in  a  marked  contrast  to  the  majority 
of  Anglican  Religious  Orders,  which  appear  to  have  been  founded 
and  conducted  in  the  face  of  opposition  from  ecclesiastical  superiors. 
In  1898,  the  founder  of  the  Caldey  community  obtained  the  license 
of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Dr.  Temple,  for  his  profession 
as  a  monk  under  the  Rule  of  St.  Benedict,  and  later,  after  being 
elected  to  the  office  of  Abbot  by  the  community,  the  election  was 
confirmed  by  the  same  prelate,  and  with  the  permission  of  the  late 
Archbishop  of  York,  Dr.  Maclagan,  Abbot  Aelred  Carlyle  was 
blessed  and  installed  in  his  office  by  the  late  Dr.  Grafton,  Bishop 
of  Fond  du  Lac.  Gradually  the  little  community  grew  in  num- 
bers, and  in  1906  the  purchase  of  Caldey  Island  as  a  permanent 
home  was  made  possible.  On  St.  Luke's  Day  of  that  year,  the 
monks  moved  to  their  new  home,  and  from  that  time  onwards  there 
has  been  a  steady  increase  in  numbers,  while  the  work  of  erecting 
a  permanent  monastery  has  also  to  a  certain  degree  been  made 
possible.  As  the  community  increased  and  the  number  of  novices 


332  THE  CONVERSION  OF  [June, 

grew,  it  was  felt  that  a  more  clearly  defined  official  sanction  by  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities  was  necessary  if  the  work  was  to  become 
a  real  and  vital  part  of  the  spiritual  economy  of  the  Anglican 
Church.  Accordingly  the  Anglican  authorities  were  approached, 
with  a  view  of  clearly  denning  the  position  of  the  Abbot  as  a  priest 
of  the  Church  of  England. 

It  was  about  this  time,  Lent,  1912,  that  the  members  of  the 
community  felt  themselves  bound  to  face  the  question  of  their 
position  with  regard  to  the  Catholic  Church.  The  sacred  season  of 
Lent  was  spent  in  much  prayer,  and  a  study  of  the  difficulties  that 
divided  them  from  the  supreme  Pastor  and  Teacher  of  all  Chris- 
tians. The  monks  went  deeply  into  the  matter,  and  the  result  was 
that  their  belief  in  the  Church  of  England  as  the  true  and  historic 
Church  of  Christ  and  the  Gospel  received  what  was  destined  to  be 
its  deathblow.  But,  whether  rightly  or  wrongly,  they  felt  that 
there  were  not  sufficient  indications  that  it  was  their  duty  to  sever 
their  allegiance  to  the  Church  of  England  and  to  submit  to  the  Holy 
See.  If  the  community  was  to  continue,  it  must  be  brought  more 
clearly  under  the  definite  guidance  and  authority  of  the  See  of 
Canterbury.  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  was  approached : 
first,  because  Caldey  is  in  no  Anglican  diocese  or  parish,  and, 
secondly,  because  the  Archbishop  represented  to  the  monks  the 
supreme  spiritual  authority  of  the  Anglican  Church.  At  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  Archbishop,  Bishop  Gore  of  Oxford  was  selected  as 
prospective  Episcopal  Visitor,  an  office  which  his  lordship  expressed 
himself  quite  willing  to  accept.  The  Bishop,  quite  naturally  and 
rightly,  made  inquiries  as  to  the  faith,  practices,  and  devotions  of 
the  community,  and  appointed  two  commissioners  who  were  to 
receive  a  full  statement  of  all  such  matters,  after  which  they  were 
to  report  to  the  Bishop.  The  result  of  the  negotiations  was  that 
Bishop  Gore,  acting  upon  the  report  made  to  him  by  the  commis- 
sioners, made  certain  demands  upon  the  community  as  "  prelimin- 
aries that  seem  to  be  obvious  and  to  lie  outside  all  possibilities  of 
bargaining  and  concession."  These  preliminary  demands  were : 

(1)  That   all   property,   buildings,   etc.,   should   legally   be 
secured  to  the  Church  of  England. 

(2)  That  the  Communion  Office  of  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer  alone  should  be  used  in  place  of  the  Latin  Benedictine 
"Rite,  and  that  all  priests  in  the  community  should  be  bound 
to  recite  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer. 


1913-]  THE  ANGLICAN  BENEDICTINES  333 

(3)  That  the  doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  to- 
gether with  the  doctrine  (sic)  of  the  Corporal  Assumption  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  should  be  eliminated  from  the  Breviary 
and  Missal. 

(4)  That  Exposition  and  Benediction  of  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment, with  the  Exposition  and  Veneration  of  Sacred  Relics, 
should  be  abandoned. 

The  monks  of  Caldey  had  appealed  to  the  authority  of 
the  Church  of  England,  and  that  authority  acting  in  the  person 
of  Bishop  Gore  as  the  representative  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, had,  as  it  had  every  right  to  do  from  the  Anglican  point  of 
view,  made  a  sweeping  condemnation  of  those  things  which  the 
monks  of  Caldey  had  always  held  to  be  vital  to  their  conception  of 
the  Catholic  Faith.  The  demands  of  the  Bishop  were  clear  and 
definite;  the  reply  of  the  monks  also  had  to  be  clear  and  definite. 
A  letter  was  dispatched  to  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  signed  by  twenty 
professed  brothers,  four  novices,  and  three  oblates,  declining  to 
receive  official  sanction  at  such  a  price.  Thus  the  allegiance  of 
Caldey  to  the  Church  of  England  came  to  an  end,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  brethren  were  turned  to  the  seat  of  that  Authority  to  whose 
care  our  Blessed  Lord  has  committed  the  sheep  and  the  lambs  of 
His  flock. 

On  February  22d,  the  Feast  of  St.  Peter's  Chair,  Abbot  Aelred 
Carlyle  sent  an  urgent  letter  to  Dom  Bede  Camm,  O.S.B.,  to  come 
and  advise.  Knowing  nothing  of  what  was  required  of  him,  the 
good  Father  immediately  laid  aside  all  his  most  pressing  engage- 
ments, and  set  out  on  his  unknown  mission.  On  arriving  at  Caldey 
he  was  soon  shown  how  matters  stood,  and  as  a  Benedictine  and 
a  convert  he  was  asked  to  advise.  At  Caldey  Holy  Mass  was 
offered  by  Dom  Bede  Camm.  By  the  singular  providence  of  God, 
this  first  Mass  was  offered  by  a  Benedictine  and  the  champion 
of  the  English  martyrs,  and  on  the  Feast  of  the  Five  Holy  Wounds  ; 
under  whose  banner  our  English  fathers  fought  and  died  "  for 
God,  our  Lady,  and  the  Catholic  Faith."  The  last  time  Mass  was 
said  on  the  island  of  Caldey,  it  was  offered  by  a  Benedictine  monk 
some  three  hundred  or  more  years  ago. 

Under  the  guidance  of  Dom  Bede  Camm,  the  monks  of  Caldey 
were  prepared  for  their  reception  into  the  Catholic  Church,  and  on 
Wednesday,  March  5th,  the  Feast  of  St.  Aelred,  the  patron  Saint 
of  the  Abbot,  his  lordship  the  Bishop  of  Menevia,  Dr.  Mostyn, 


334  THE  ANGLICAN  BENEDICTINES  [June, 

received  the  submission  of  the  community,  and  then  administered 
conditional  baptism.  The  ceremony  of  reception  into  the  Church 
was  performed  in  the  presence  of  the  Benedictine  Abbots  of  Down- 
side, Maredsous,  and  Csermaria.  After  Terce  had  been  sung,  the 
Bishop  vested,  and  with  his  assistants  entered  the  sanctuary.  Abbot 
Carlyle  knelt  at  a  prie-dieu  at  the  entrance  of  the  choir,  and  before 
him  was  laid  an  open  book  of  the  Gospels.  After  the  singing  of 
the  Veni  Creator,  the  whole  community  kneeling  round  their  Abbot 
made  simultaneously  their  profession  of  faith,  and  received  from 
the  Bishop  absolution  from  censure.  During  the  Mass  which  fol- 
lowed this  solemn  ceremony,  the  newly-made  Catholics  received 
Holy  Communion.  In  the  afternoon,  by  permission  of  the  Bishop, 
the  Abbot  of  Maredsous  sang  Pontifical  Vespers,  and  before  Com- 
pline, which  was  sung  by  the  Abbot  of  Downside,  the  Bishop  of  the 
diocese  gave  Pontifical  Benediction  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament.  On 
the  Monday  following  this  most  solemn  and  eventful  day,  the 
Bishop  administered  the  Sacrament  of  Confirmation  to  the  com- 
munity of  Caldey;  while  three  days  later  his  lordship  and  the  Abbot 
of  Downside  went  to  St.  Bride's  Abbey  to  gather  into  the  Church  the 
rich  harvest  of  souls  that  waited  for  the  reaper.  The  number  of 
souls  received  into  the  Church  both  at  Caldey  and  St.  Bride's  Abbey 
is  fifty-six,  but  there  are  more  members  of  the  Caldey  community 
who  from  stress  of  circumstances  did  not  make  their  submission 
at  the  same  time.  By  the  time  these  lines  are  read  all  the  Caldey 
brethren,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  perhaps  three,  will  have 
been  received  into  the  Catholic  Church. 

At  the  time  of  writing,  Abbot  Carlyle  is  on  his  way  to  Rome, 
in  company  with  the  Abbot  of  Maredsous.  It  is  hoped  to  lay  the 
plans  and  aspirations  of  these  two  communities  before  the  Holy 
Father,  and  to  seek  his  guidance  for  the  future,  whatever  it  may  be. 
Meanwhile  the  brethren  have  been  admitted  oblates  regular  of  St. 
Benedict  by  the  Abbot  of  Maredsous,  at  whose  abbey  Abbot  Aelred 
will  make  his  novitiate.  During  the  absence  of  their  superior,  the 
Caldey  brethren  will  be  under  the  rule  of  Dom  John  Chapman  and 
Dom  Bede  Camm,  both  of  Maredsous. 

The  conversion  of  the  Caldey  monks  to  the  Catholic  Church 
has  involved  them  in  serious  financial  loss,  for  they  have  lost  the 
sum  of  not  less  than  f  20,000,  which  had  been  promised  them  by 
various  benefactors  a  short  time  ago,  principally  for  the  completion 
of  their  monastery  buildings,  on  condition  of  their  remaining  in 
the  Anglican  Church.  The  Caldey  Sustentation  Fund  has  been 


1913.]  ENCOMPASSED  335 

opened,  and  Catholics  are  asked  to  show  their  practical  sympathy 
for  these  good  monks  who  have  sacrificed  so  much.  The  students 
of  Maynooth  College  have  offered  to  raise  a  subscription  among 
themselves,  and  have  expressed  their  resolution  that  the  Caldey 
monks  shall  not  want.  A  priest  has  most  generously  offered  £500 
as  a  nucleus  of  the  Caldey  Sustentation  Fund. 

The  brethren  of  Caldey  Abbey,  together  with  their  Sisters  of 
St.  Bride's,  earnestly  request  the  prayers  of  all  Catholics  for  per- 
severance in  their  Holy  Faith  and  Vocation. 


ENCOMPASSED. 

BY   CHARLES   L.   o'DONNELL,   C.S.C. 
"  In  Whom  we  live  and  move  and  are." 

THE  least,  most  instant  thoughts  I  think 
Win  to  Thy  mind; 
Thou  art  most  kind. 

My  feet  with  weariness  may  sink — 
Ere  I  can  cry 
Lo,  Thou  art  by. 

Yea,  when  upon  the  awful  brink 
Of  death  I  stand 
I  hold  Thy  hand. 

Only  for  this  aghast  I  shrink 
At  deeps  of  hell, 
"  God  lost,"  they  spell. 

And  when  of  utter  bliss  I  drink, 
What  shall  it  be 
But  Thee,  but  Thee. 


THE  RED  ASCENT. 

BY  ESTHER  W.   NEILL. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

ICHARD  had  expected  that  the  Colonel  would  take 
some  interest  in  the  papers  that  he  had  found  in  the 
attic.     He  brought  them  downstairs  next  evening, 
and  spread  them  on  the  mahogany  table  that  stood 
under  the  library  lamp. 
The  Colonel  picked  up  one  or  two  of  the  letters,  carelessly 
adjusted  his  eyeglasses,  and  after  glancing  at  the  faded  pages, 
he  put  them  down  and  thumped  upon  the  table  to  show  his  emphatic 
disapproval. 

"  What  rot!     I  didn't  know  my  father  could  be  such  a  fool/' 
"  My  grandmother  must  have  been  very  beautiful,"  said  Rich- 
ard reflectively. 

"  Beautiful,"  sputtered  the  Colonel,  "  of  course  she  was  beau- 
tiful. In  those  days  men  weren't  looking  for  some  sour- faced, 
intellectual,  spectacled  woman  to  put  at  the  head  of  their  table. 
By  heaven,  sir,  it's  a  woman's  business  to  be  beautiful." 

"  See,  here  are  some  verses,"  said  Richard,  "  that  seem  to 
prove  it: 

Such  beauty  I  have  ne'er  beheld, 

Your  violet  eyes,  your  raven  hair, 
If  I  could  die  to  prove  my  love 
I'd  welcome  death,  my  lady  fair. 

They  do  sound — rather  feverish.  I  wonder  if  men  really  feel 
that  way." 

"  Feel,"  repeated  the  Colonel,  staring  at  his  son  in  astonish- 
ment. "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  never  been  in  love  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  have." 

"  Then  for  the  Lord's  sake  go  and  try  it.  Why  you  must 
have  the  make-up  of  a  fish,  sir.  When  I  was  your  age  I  had 
courted  half  the  girls  in  the  county." 

^he  old  look  of  weariness  came  into  Richard's  eyes.  "  I 
suppose  it  was  the  fashion,  then,"  he  said.  He  put  the  letters 
into  the  box  and  carried  them  back  to  his  room.  The  Colonel  was 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  337 

willing  to  keep  on  swearing  that  the  Fielding  title  was  a  forged  one, 
but  he  considered  Richard's  efforts  to  prove  it  practically  useless. 
He  frankly  said  that  he  was  not  willing  to  strain  his  eyes  going 
through  all  that  "  mooning  slush  "  to  convince  himself  of  a  fact 
he  knew  already. 

"  But  we  might  convince  the  court,"  Richard  had  said. 

"  The  courts  are  corrupt,"  reiterated  the  Colonel  with  a  con- 
viction that  precluded  argument.  "  What  justice  can  you  expect 
from  a  Yankee  judge  that  had  his  eye  shot  out  at  Manassas?" 

"  I  believe  that  justice  is  supposed  to  be  blind,"  Richard  sug- 
gested dryly. 

"  But  not  squint-eyed,"  said  the  Colonel,  who  always  enjoyed 
the  last  word  in  an  argument. 

Richard  went  to  bed  that  night  with  the  feeling  that  the 
Fielding  case  was  hopeless.  There  was  no  escape  for  him  from 
the  grime  of  the  fields,  the  uncongenial  labor  that  began  with  every 
dawn.  Of  what  use  was  his  college  course,  his  university  training? 
He  was  a  farm  hand,  ignorant  of  his  work,  deprived  even  of 
meager  wages.  Where  could  he  get  money  for  the  simple  every- 
day necessities?  He  thought  of  writing,  teaching,  translating, 
but  the  ceaseless  duties  of  the  day  seemed  to  preclude  all  further 
effort — his  mind  was  hindered,  his  body  heavy  with  sleep.  He 
must  trust  to  the  fruition  of  the  fall.  If  he  had  had  any  confidence 
in  his  achievements  as  a  farmer,  he  would  have  gone  to  Jefferson 
Wilcox  for  help,  but  he  was  too  proud  to  borrow  when  payment 
seemed  so  remote. 

It  was  worry  over  his  increasing  indebtedness  at  the  village 
store  that  drove  him  again  to  the  inspection  of  his  grandfather's 
love  letters,  and  having  once  begun  to  wade  through  the  "slush," 
his  original  intention  was  almost  forgotten  in  the  interest  he  began 
to  take  in  these  human  documents.  He  had  not  had  time  or  inclina- 
tion for  love  affairs  of  his  own,  but  the  psychology  of  this  ancient 
romance  fascinated  him. 

He  had  never  known  his  grandfather,  but  he  had  heard  him 
spoken  of  with  vast  respect  as  a  brave  soldier,  a  scholar,  a  statesman. 
He  had  been  sent  to  the  United  States  Senate,  and  had  served  with 
distinction;  he  had  even  been  considered  as  a  presidential  pos- 
sibility. These  old  letters  showed  another  side  of  his  life,  as  real 
as  and  more  vital  than  his  public  career. 

With  a  systematizing  spirit  that  comes  from  long  training, 
Richard  sorted  out  the  letters  according  to  date.  From  the  first 

VOL.   XCVII. — 22. 


338  THE  RED  ASCENT  [June, 

formal  note  asking  a  pretty  girl  to  accept  "  a  floral  offering," 
"  to  walk  home  from  church/'  "  to  dance  at  the  governor's  ball," 
came  the  gradual  unfolding  of  a  strong  man's  passion.  His  first 
proposal  of  marriage,  a  strange  mixture  of  humility  and  faith  in 
his  opportunities,  followed  later  by  desperate  incoherent  pages  when 
he  feared  the  lady  of  his  choice  was  in  love  with  another.  Then 
came  other  vehement  letters  breathing  such  happiness  and  confes- 
sions of  unworthiness,  full  of  ambitious  day  dreams,  plans  for 
the  wedding,  plans  for  home  building,  plans  for  a  long  alluring 
future. 

Richard  sat  one  night  on  the  edge  of  his  high  four-poster 
musing  over  these  letters.  What  a  tremendous  power  love  had 
always  been  in  the  world.  Why  had  he  never  given  it  any  thought  ? 
Since  his  mother's  death,  and  his  memory  of  her  was  made  up  of 
trifling  occurrences  that  a  child's  mind  accentuates,  he  had  never 
demanded  love  from  anyone.  The  Colonel  had  always  been  in- 
different to  him,  Betty  regarded  him  almost  as  a  stranger;  until 
the  last  few  months  he  had  never  entered  into  her  life,  now  she 
accepted  his  services  as  a  matter  of  course.  As  long  as  she  was 
provided  with  food  and  shelter,  she  was  oblivious  to  the  tragedy 
of  his  efforts.  Poring  over  these  old  letters  he  began  to  speculate 
about  himself,  and  to  wonder  idly  if  he  were  capable  of  great  love 
for  an  individual.  If  he  gave  nothing  how  could  he  expect  a 
return?  Was  the  fault  his?  If  women  roused  men,  wise,  judi- 
cial men  like  his  grandfather,  to  such  desperate  states  of  mind, 
to  such  foolish  poems  and  prattle,  why  was  he  immune? 

His  thoughts  were  brought  to  an  abrupt  conclusion  by  Betty 
knocking  on  his  door.  "  Why  aren't  you  ready,  Dick  ?  " 

"  Ready  ?  "  he  repeated  looking  up  bewildered. 

Betty  stood  in  the  hallway  dressed  in  her  grandmother's  wed- 
ding gown,  hoop  skirt,  lace  veil,  orange  blossoms,  white  satin 
slippers,  her  face  flushed  into  beauty,  her  nervous  fingers  struggling 
with  the  old-time  silken  mitts. 

"  Betty,  child,  I  didn't  know  you." 

"Isn't  it  great?"  said  Betty.  "Don't  I  look— look  pretty? 
I  can't  get  in  your  door,  these  hoops  won't  let  me.  I'm  going 
down  in  the  parlor  and  practice  moving  around  in  them  while  you 
get  ready,  Dick." 

"  Ready  for  what?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  don't  say  you're  not  going.  It  would  just  break 
my  heart  to  miss  the  Fielding's  party  to-night." 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  339 

"Is  it  to-night?"  he  asked  helplessly. 

"  Why,  Dick,  you  can't  have  forgotten  so  soon." 

"  But  I  had,  Betty.  I  had — my  mind  seems  so  small  that  I 
can't  squeeze  in  more  than  one  idea  at  a  time.  Here  I  am  sitting 
up  nights  trying  to  take  the  Fielding's  money  away  from  them,  and 
they  invite  me  to  a  party." 

"  Pooh !  "  said  Betty,  "  of  course  they  invite  us.  Jess  Fielding 
would  rather  have  us  than  anybody  in  the  county." 

"  I  don't  see  why." 

"  There  are  times,  Dick,"  she  began  smoothing  her  mitts  over 
her  thin  arms,  "  when  I  believe  you  are  stupid  in  spite  of  all  your 
education." 

"  No  doubt  about  it,"  he  agreed  good-naturedly. 

"  And  this  is  one  of  the  times,"  she  continued.  "  Jess  Fielding 
wants  us  to  come  because — well  it  gives  her  a  boost  socially — 
we  are  the  bluest-blooded  people  in  this  county." 

Richard  smiled.     "  I  don't  believe  she  is  such  a  fool,"  he  said. 

"  But  she  is,"  repeated  Betty  knowingly.  "  Women  are  all 
like  that.  We  want  the  best  people  at  our  parties  or  none  at  all." 

"  And  your  definition  of  'best,'  Betty?  " 

"  Grandfathers,"  she  answered  unhesitatingly,  "  great-grand- 
fathers, great-great-grandfathers." 

"  Every  man  except  Adam  had  those." 

"  Stupid !  "  said  Betty,  "  stupid  again.  You  know  the  tradi- 
tions of  this  county  as  well  as  I  do.  Get  on  that  beautiful  uniform 
and  come  on.  We'll  make  a  stunning  couple.  See  here  are  two 
little  curtain  masks.  I  cut  up  one  pincushion  and  one  sachet  bag 
to  make  them ;  black  for  you,  white  for  me." 

"  But,  Betty  dear,  upon  my  soul  it  hardly  seems  fair  to  accept 
the  Fielding's  hospitality  when  I'm  trying  to  get  up  a  law  case 
against  them." 

"  Fiddlesticks!  "  said  Betty.     "  What  have  you  found  out?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Have  you  any  kind  of  proof  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  Have  you  the  shadow  of  a  chance  of  winning  your  case?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"Everybody  is  dead,"  said  Betty  with  cheerful  resignation, 
"  so  you'll  never  find  out  anything." 

"  But  I'm  trying." 

"  That  makes  no  difference." 

"  Do  you  think  she  expects  us  ?  " 


340  THE  RED  ASCENT  [June, 

"Of  course  she  does.  I  sent  my  acceptance  two  weeks  ago. 
She'll  be  dreadfully  disappointed  if  we  don't  come." 

He  was  very  tired.  He  longed  for  some  loophole  of  escape. 
"  But  why  should  she  be  disappointed  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  I  just  told  you,"  she  said  beginning  to  lose  patience.  "  She 
will  think  we  want  to  snub  her,  and  no  girl  enjoys  being  snubbed. 
If  you  don't  want  to  go  I  suppose  I — can — stay — at — home." 

Her  eager  little  face  looked  so  pathetic  beneath  the  meshes  of 
the  veil  that  he  resolved  to  martyr  himself  at  once.  "  Cheer  up, 
I'll  get  ready.  It  won't  take  me  fifteen  minutes  to  hitch  old  Pedro 
to  the  buggy.  I  haven't  had  any  plowing  these  last  few  days,  so 
he  may  travel  along  with  a  little  spirit." 

"  But,  Dick,  you  will  have  to  dress — ruffled  shirt — uniform." 

"  I'd  forgotten  that,  too,"  he  said,  "  but  I'll  go  the  whole  gait 
I  promise  you,  even  if  I  do  feel  like  a  second-class  hero  in  a  melo- 
drama." 

Betty  went  singing  blithely  down  the  stairs,  and  passed  into  the 
blackness  of  the  parlor.  Once  there  she  felt  her  way  cautiously  to 
the  mantel,  and,  having  successfully  located  the  match  box,  she 
lighted  all  the  candles  that  stood  in  the  twisted  silver  sconces. 
Two  mirrors  that  hung  between  the  windows  at  either  end  of  the 
long  room  reflected  the  flickering  lights  over  and  over  again.  Betty 
seemed  to  walk  in  a  labyrinth  of  rooms  with  twenty  other  hoop- 
skirted  brides  pirouetting  for  their  grooms. 

At  last  Richard  came.  Betty  gave  a  little  scream  of  delight. 
"  Colonel,  Colonel,"  she  called,  "  come  and  see  us !  Come  and  see ! 
Oh!  Dick,  look  at  yourself  in  the  mirror.  I  believe  you  are  the 
handsomest  man  I  ever  saw.  Your  shoulders  are  so  broad  and 
you  are  so  tall — so  perfectly  proportioned,  and  those  gorgeous  but- 
tons. Oh,  I  don't  wonder  that  girls  go  crazy  over  brass  buttons." 

"  Betty,"  he  said  laughing,  putting  his  hand  over  her  mouth, 
"  you're  trying  to  make  amends  for  dragging  me  out  to-night. 
I  feel  like  an  idiot,  don't  make  me  look  like  one." 

The  Colonel  came  limping  across  the  hall :  "  What's  all  this?  " 
he  said.  "  What's  all  this  commotion  about?  " 

Betty  dropped  him  a  curtsey,  her  wide  skirt  spread  out  like  an 
inflated  balloon.  "We  are  going  to  the  Fielding's  masquerade 
ball." 

""Taking  up  with  that  trash,  eh?" 

"  She  invited  us,"  said  Betty  defensively,  the  laughter  dying 
out  of  her  eyes.  "  I'm  sure  she  is  an  educated  girl,  and  she's  been 
everywhere,  seen  everything,  knows  all  kinds  of  nice  people." 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  341 

"Hm,"  said  the  Colonel,  pulling  at  his  gray  goatee,  "the 
country's  money  mad.  The  Fieldings  are  as  common  as  dirt." 

"  I  feel  quite  at  home  in  dirt,"  said  Richard. 

The  Colonel  turned,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  look  of  startled 
wonder  on  his  face.  "  Where — where  did  you  get  those  clothes  ?  " 

Richard  stood  at  attention  and  gave  the  military  salute.  "  I 
am  the  ghost  of  my  grandfather,"  he  said  smiling. 

The  Colonel's  deep  set  eyes  filled  with  a  suspicious  moisture ;  he 
fumbled  for  his  handkerchief  and  blew  his  nose  with  excited  energy. 
"  You  have  on  the  uniform  of  an  officer,"  he  said  at  last.  "  You 
should  have  a  sword — my  sword.  The  only  decent  thing  the 
Yankees  ever  did  was  sending  that  sword  back  to  me." 

"  Because  'of  the  brave  fight  you  made  and  your  valiant  cour- 
age in  defeat  when  you  were  outnumbered.'  I  remember  the 
words  of  the  message.  Mother  taught  them  to  me  before  I  was 
eight  years  old." 

"  Did  she  ?  "  said  the  Colonel,  and  there  was  something  youth- 
ful in  his  eagerness.  "  I  didn't  know  she  cared  so  much  as  that. 
You  must  wear  the  sword  to-night,  Dick.  By  heaven,  sir,  I  would 
have  been  proud  to  have  had  you  in  my  regiment." 

He  reached  for  the  sword  that  hung  above  the  mantel,  and 
unsheathing  it  he  stood  for  a  moment  forgetful  of  the  years. 
The  cold  impact  of  the  steel  seemed  to  revivify  his  youth,  the 
only  part  of  his  life  that  had  seemed  worth  while  to  him,  the  life 
that  had  called  for  endurance,  decisiveness,  self-denial,  virtues  that 
he  had  not  felt  the  necessity  of  practicing  before  or  since.  The 
best  that  was  in  him  had  surrendered  when  a  military  victory 
was  lost. 

Richard  was  keen  enough  to  realize  this.  The  sword  was  holy 
in  his  eyes.  "  I  don't  believe  I  am  fit  to  wear  it,"  he  said  humbly. 

The  Colonel  returned  to  the  present,  irritated  with  himself 
for  his  useless  dreaming.  "  And  why  not?  "  he  demanded. 

"  It  means  so  much." 

"How  can  it  to  you?" 

"  I  am  your  son." 

'  You  were  born  long  after  the  war  was  over.  What  do  you 
know  about  it?" 

"  But  the  sword !  It  typifies  so  much.  Somehow  it  seems 
a  sort  of  sacrilege  to  wear  it  to  a  masquerade." 

"  We  are  all  maskers,"  said  the  Colonel  cynically.  "  All  the 
world  is  masquerading.  Your  costume  must  be  complete,  my  son, 
I'm  only  arming  you  for  the  battle." 


342 


THE  RED  ASCENT  [June, 


As  Richard  took  the  sword  he  stooped  and  kissed  the  smooth 
surrendering  hand  that  held  it  out  to  him;  this  touch  of  reverence 
displeased  the  Colonel.  He  had  no  taste  for  anything  that  seemed 
to  border  on  mediaeval  ritualism. 

"  My  Lord,  boy,"  he  said  wiping  his  hand  on  hi$  rusty  coat. 
"  I'm  no  potentate,  and  you're  no  knight,  hysterical  after  an  all 
night  vigil." 

The  atmosphere  of  idealism  which  had  seemed  to  surround  the 
Colonel  was  pierced  by  the  words.  Richard  turned  away. 

'*  Perhaps  I  am  hysterical,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  ancient  Hedrick's  mansion,  which  the  Fieldings  had  bought 
and  remodelled,  stood  on  a  high  hill  far  removed  from  the  black 
shaft  of  the  coal  mines.  The  grimy  workers  toiling  in  the  low- 
roofed  chambers  underground  had  built  up  this  palace  with  their 
products,  but  now,  that  the  house  was  complete,  the  rich  inmates 
must  not  be  offended  by  the  sight  of  the  dirty,  sweating  mass  of 
men  who  had  supplied  them  with  these  luxuries.  Close-branched 
cedars  had  been  planted  to  screen  off  this  view  of  the  valley,  trel- 
lises of  roses  walled  in  a  sunken  Italian-garden,  which  in  the  old 
days  had  boasted  only  a  few  sombre  box  bushes;  but  now  it  was 
riotously  abloom.  And  to-night  even  the  trees  along  the  driveway 
seemed  to  blossom  forth  miraculously,  strung  with  tiny  electric 
bulbs  of  different  colors. 

Betty  gasped  with  delight  as  the  buggy  wheels,  scraping  the 
new  iron  gateway,  passed  into  this  wonderland. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  beautiful  in  all  your  life?  "  she 
said  clasping  her  brother's  arm  in  an  ecstasy.  "  Look  at  the  house, 
Dick.  Why,  it's  twice  as  big  as  it  used  to  be.  What  can  one  girl 
want  with  so  many  rooms  ?  " 

"  Why  she  doesn't  live  alone,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Only  a  governess  or  chaperon,  a  little  old  lady  by  the  name 
of  Miss  White." 

"  Miss  Fielding  didn't  call  her  that." 

"  Oh,  I  know  Jess  Fielding  calls  her  Prunesy,  or  some  such 
pet  name.  I  wish  we  had  started  earlier.  I  believe  we  are  the  last 
to  arrive." 

As  they  neared  the  brilliantly-lighted  house,  a  man  in  livery 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  343 

came  forward  to  take  charge  of  old  Pedro,  who  was  wheezing  from 
his  leisurely  walk  up  the  hill.  Betty  threw  off  the  old  linen  duster 
which  she  had  worn  over  her  voluminous  dress,  and,  adjusting 
her  little  curtain  mask,  she  told  Richard  to  do  the  same. 

"  We  haven't  any  wraps/'  she  said,  "  so  there  is  no  use  going 
into  the  dressing  room.  Look  at  all  the  people  on  the  porch.  If 
you  don't  put  on  your  mask  now  everybody  will  know  you." 

"  Since  nobody  knows  me  anyhow,"  began  Richard. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  please,  please  act  a  little  partified." 

"My  dear  Betty,  what's  that?" 

"  Act  like  you  were  at  a  party.  Be  gay ;  don't — don't  act 
like  a  monk  in  a  monastery." 

He  laughed.     "  Did  you  ever  see  a  monk  in  a  monastery  ?  " 

But  his  question  went  unheeded.  She  ran  lightly  up  the  steps ; 
a  satin-coated  courtier  in  a  curly  wig  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  bride  without  a  groom,"  answered  Betty  saucily. 

"  Then  I'm  the  man  you're  looking  for.  Come  dance  with  me. 
You  can't  speak  to  your  hostess  because  she's  masked  like  the  rest 
of  us.  I'll  propose  to  you  if  you'll  tell  me  your  name." 

Betty  whirled  away  into  the  maelstrom  of  dancers;  Richard 
followed  her  as  far  as  the  hall,  uncertain  of  himself  now  that 
he  was  no  longer  needed.  This  life  was  not  foreign  to  Betty; 
these  young  men  and  girls  were  her  friends,  her  neighbors.  She 
slipped  back  into  gayety,  after  the  long  tiresome  winter,  with  an 
ease  and  energy  that  showed  Richard  what  the  privation  of  it 
meant  to  her. 

For  fully  half  an  hour  Richard  stood  half-hidden  behind  some 
tall  palms,  forgetful  of  his  awkwardness  as  he  viewed  the  unusual 
scene  in  front  of  him.  All  sorts  and  conditions  of  people  seemed 
gathered  together  in  the  big  flower-decked  room.  Characters  from 
Mother  Goose;  characters  from  his  favorite  fairy  tales;  characters 
from  history  and  romance.  Puritans  wearing  their  pointed  hats, 
austere  looking  goddesses,  cowboys,  Indians,  sailors,  soldiers,  devils, 
mingled  before  him  with  the  fascinating  incongruity  of  a  dream. 

Mr.  Pickwick  balanced  himself  upon  a  window  sill,  while  Red 
Riding  Hood  regaled  him  with  some  cookies  that  she  carried  in  a 
splint  bottomed  basket.  Robinson  Crusoe  was  dancing  blissfully 
with  Queen  Elizabeth;  George  Washington  was  pulling  Bo-Peep's 
long  wiggy  curls,  and  Oliver  Cromwell  was  laughing  heartily  at 
something  that  Cinderella  had  just  whispered  in  his  ear. 

When  the  music  stopped  for  a  brief  interlude,  Richard  heard 


344  THE  RED  ASCENT  [June, 

a  hissing,  crackling  sound  at  his  side.  He  looked  down,  a  girl  in  a 
strange  red  and  yellow  costume  stood  beside  him.  Her  hair  fell 
about  her  shoulders,  and  seemed  a  part  of  the  diaphanous  gauze  of 
which  her  dress  was  made.  Suddenly  she  threw  up  her  arms,  and 
by  some  trick  he  could  not  understand,  her  long  flowing  sleeves 
flew  upward  until  she  looked  as  if  she  were  enveloped  in  a  spiral 
flame. 

"  I'm  Fire — Fire — Fire,"  she  said.  "  Come  out  on  the  porch. 
I'll  blaze  the  way." 

He  was  a  trifle  resentful  that  his  retreat  had  been  discovered. 

"  You're  too  dangerous,"  he  smiled,  hoping  to  escape  her. 

"  I  am,  I  am.     I  want  to  be." 

"  But  I  am  prudence,"  he  said  standing  still. 

"  You're  a  soldier,"  she  retorted.  "  The  first  duty  of  a  soldier 
is  to  obey,  the  next  is  to  court  danger." 

He  laughed  and  followed  her,  not  knowing  how  to  refuse. 
"  I  am  only  the  wraith  of  a  soldier,"  he  said. 

The  wide  brick  portico  was  crowded  now  with  the  merry  com- 
pany who  had  been  dancing  but  a  moment  before.  The  spectral 
moonlight  seemed  the  one  thing  needed  to  make  the  phantasy  com- 
plete. Richard  looked  around  him  wonderingly ;  he  was  surrounded 
by  familiar  friends.  The  heroes  and  heroines  of  his  boyhood  had 
conspired  to  meet  him  in  this  unexpected  way.  His  strenuosity, 
his  weariness,  his  disappointment  fell  from  him.  He  was  young 
again,  care  free;  he  was  part  of  this  delightful  unreal  world  of 
"  make  believe." 

The  unseen  orchestra  began  another  waltz;  there  was  a  quick 
interchange  of  partners,  and  the  porch  was  deserted.  Richard 
stood  alone  with  the  flaming  girl  beside  him. 

"  I  can't  ask  you  to  dance  because  I  don't  know  how,"  he 
began  half  apologetically. 

"  I'm  glad  you  don't,"  she  answered. 

"  Why  I  thought  you  liked  dancing." 

"  I  think  it's  silly  for  a  man." 

"  Then  why  do  you  do  it?  " 

"  Why,  because  everybody  does." 

"Is  that  a  reason?" 

"  I  thought  it  was.  Come  sit  down  on  this  bench  and  tell  me 
who  I  am." 

*  I  don't  know." 

"Don't  you  care?" 

"How  can  I?" 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  345 

"  Dear  me,"  she  sighed,  "  I  thought  you  were  scientific." 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"Doesn't  science  necessitate  curiosity?" 

"  We  call  it  the  spirit  of  investigation,"  he  said. 

"  Have  you  always  been  indifferent  to  women?  " 

"  I  haven't  known  any." 

"  You  are  not  telling  the  truth,  now,"  she  said. 

"  I  thought  I  was." 

"  Don't  you  care  to  know  any?  " 

"  I  thought  I  didn't." 

Again  her  arms  shot  upward,  the  soft  gauze  waved  above 
her  head,  she  spun  around  until  she  seemed  a  pillar  of  flame.  "  I'm 
Fire — Fire — Fire,"  she  said  in  a  low  rhymthic  voice,  "  and  you  are 
a  man  of  ice.  Suppose — suppose  that  I  should  try  and  melt  you." 

The  spirit  of  harlequin  caught  him  at  last.  "  I'm  armed 
against  all  dangers,"  he  cried,  and  drawing  his  sword  he  pinned 
her  trailing  dress  to  the  floor.  "  Now  you  cannot  get  away  until 
you  tell  me  who  you  are." 

"  I  like  my  mask,"  she  said. 

He  threw  his  from  him.     "  Mine  is  infernally  hot,"  he  said. 

She  caught  the  bit  of  silk  before  it  landed  in  the  tangled  jasa- 
mine  vine.  "  It  was  no  disguise,"  she  said  crumpling  it  in  her  hand. 

"  Why  I  have  been  away  so  long  I  thought  I  had  passed  beyond 
all  remembrance." 

"  But  not  beyond  mine,"  she  whispered  softly. 

Her  tone  bewildered  him.  "  If  this  is  flirting,"  he  said  blun- 
deringly, "  I  know  nothing  of  the  game.  You  will  find  me  as 
awkward  as  a  Hottentot." 

The  girl  laughed.  "  But  don't  you  find  me  interesting?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Take  off  your  mask,  and  I'll  tell  you." 

"  I  prefer  to  keep  it  on." 

"  Then  you  don't  want  your  question  answered  ?  " 

"  I  have  intuitions." 

"  And  what  do  they  amount  to  ?  " 

'  They  tell  me  that  you  will  go  home  and  think  about  me ;  it 
is  a  good  beginning." 

"The  beginning  of  what?" 

"Of  your  learning  the  game." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  learn  it.     I  haven't  the  time." 

"  You  think  that  now." 


346  THE  RED  ASCENT  [June, 

"  I'll  think  it  always." 

''  Your  manners  are  not  good,"  she  admitted.  "  Try  to  forget 
me  and  see  if  you  can." 

"Why  shouldn't  I?" 

"  Because  you  never  had  a  woman  talk  to  you  this  way  before." 

"Is  that  why  you  did  it?" 

"  Perhaps — because — maybe,"  she  said  provokingly.  "  Don't 
you  like  it?" 

"  Take  off  your  mask." 

"  Never."  There  was  a  sound  of  tearing  gauze,  and  she  had 
fled  from  him,  leaving  a  portion  of  her  train  impaled  on  the  point 
of  his  sword.  He  watched  her  passing  through  the  moonlight 
waving  her  arms.  "  I'm  Fire — Fire — Fire,"  she  intoned.  He  saw 
her  cutting  her  way  through  the  crowd  that  had  again  poured  out 
upon  the  porch.  Red  Riding  Hood  gave  a  little  scream  of  mock 
terror;  Boy  Blue  huddled  in  a  corner  and  begged  her  to  go  away; 
Queen  Elizabeth  caught  her  in  her  arms,  and  cried,  "  Fire  and  blood- 
shed, you  are  part  of  my  reign.  Yours  is  the  most  beautiful 
costume  in  the  room."  Then  Oliver  Cromwell  came  forward  and 
claimed  her  for  a  dance. 

Richard  stood  in  front  of  the  low  window,  still  watching  her  as 
she  danced  lightly  in  the  arms  of  the  smiling  Roundhead.  He  had 
to  confess  that  she  had  piqued  his  curiosity,  roused  his  interest. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  experiencing  that  world-old 
charm  that  lies  in  the  subtlety  of  womanhood.  He  had  heard 
someone  say  that  there  would  be  a  general  unmasking  after  the 
next  dance,  and,  as  he  waited,  he  was  surprised  at  his  own  impa- 
tience. But  before  the  next  dance  began,  Fire  had  disappeared, 
Cromwell  had  sought  another  partner,  and  when  the  masks  were 
taken  off,  amid  shouts  of  laughter  and  surprise,  Fire  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen. 

Miss  Fielding,  dressed  like  several  others  in  the  room  in  the 
trailing  gown  of  a  Greek  goddess,  greeted  her  guests.  A  little  lady 
with  bobbing  curls  and  spectacles  followed  her  around,  adding  her 
welcome  to  that  of  the  young  hostess. 

Richard,  remembering  the  conversation  by  the  swimming  pool, 
recognized  Miss  Prunesy  Prisms  at  once,  but  the  whole  scene  had 
suddenly  lost  interest  for  him.  He  did  not  want  to  acknowledge 
his  disappointment  even  to  himself.  He  had  wanted  to  identify 
Fire,  arid  she  had  eluded  him.  Now  that  the  young  people  had 
unmasked,  he  felt  himself  to  be  more  than  ever  an  alien.  In  such 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  347 

a  throng  his  hostess  would  not  miss  him;  he  would  steal  away 
somewhere  into  the  garden,  and  lie  down  on  one  of  the  many 
benches  and  watch  the  stars,  then,  when  it  was  time  for  leave  taking, 
he  would  call  for  Betty,  and  they  would  go  home. 

As  he  moved  from  the  shadow  of  the  window  shutter,  he  did 
not  see  that  little  Miss  White  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  looking 
for  scattered  guests  that  she  might  invite  them  in  to  supper.  As 
the  moonlight  fell  full  upon  his  face,  the  old  lady's  eyes  were 
riveted  upon  him  in  a  stare  that  seemed  almost  sightless,  then, 
with  a  half-hushed  scream,  she  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 

He  was  beside  her  in  a  moment.  Most  of  the  merry  makers 
had  passed  through  the  hallway  into  the  hospitable  dining  room 
in  the  western  wing  of  the  house,  but  as  Richard  stooped  over  the 
frail  little  lady  he  heard  Miss  Fielding  say  with  a  calm  that  proved 
she  was  undismayed  by  the  emergency: 

"  Can  you  lift  her?     Will  you  bring  her  up  stairs?  " 

The  old  lady's  frame  was  as  spare  as  a  sparrow's;  her  nerves 
and  her  energy  had  burned  up  any  surplus  flesh  that  she  might 
have  acquired  in  her  late  years  of  luxurious  living.  Richard  lifted 
her  in  his  arms  with  that  rare  reverence  that  youth  sometimes 
offers  old  age,  and  carrying  her  easily  up  the  broad  stairs,  he 
placed  her  in  her  high  four-poster. 

"  Now  go  ask  the  butler  for  the  brandy  and  bring  it  here 
yourself,"  commanded  Miss  Fielding,  loosening  the  old  lady's 
dress.  "  Don't  tell  anyone.  We  don't  want  to  cast  a  pall 
over  the  party.  Prunesy  has  fainted  once  or  twice  before." 

Richard  retraced  his  steps,  and  finding  the  grizzly-headed 
butler  gathering  chairs  from  the  hall,  he  ordered  him  to  bring  the 
decanter  at  once.  The  butler  was  too  well  trained  to  exhibit  either 
surprise  or  hesitation.  He  had  been  brought  up  in  a  region  where 
a  "  gentleman's  thirst "  was  to  be  regarded,  not  deplored. 

Richard  carried  the  heavy  decanter  back  to  the  bedroom,  and 
helped  Miss  Fielding  force  some  of  the  liquor  between  her  old 
friend's  pale  lips.  Miss  Prunesy  gasped  and  opened  her  faded  eyes. 

"  Jessica,  Jessica,  dear,"  she  said  feebly,  clinging  to  the  girl's 
strong  hand,  "  I — I  saw  a  ghost  upon  the  porch." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  girl,  kneeling  beside  the  bed  and  gather- 
ing the  little  lady  in  her  arms  until  the  bobbing  curls  were  hidden 
in  her  warm  embrace.  "  Prunesy,  you  are  dreaming." 

"  I  saw  him  distinctly,"  said  the  old  lady  trembling  now,  "  I 
saw  him  in  the  moonlight." 


348  THE  RED  ASCENT  [June, 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  the  girl  stooping  to  kiss  the  wrinkled  cheek. 

"  He — he  was  once  a  soldier,"  said  the  old  lady  dreamily. 

Jessica  looked  up  at  Richard  as  if  she  had  suddenly  remem- 
bered his  presence.  "  Of  course  he  was,"  she  said  soothingly. 
"  Prunesy,  I've  always  suspected  that  your  lover  was  killed  in  the 
war." 

"  But  he  was  not  killed." 

"  Then  how  can  you  see  his  ghost?  " 

"  He  died.     He  died  many  years  afterwards." 

"  Prunesy !  Prunesy !  Your  ghost  was  quite  alive.  I'll 
show  him  to  you  some  day.  Here  take  another  sip  of  brandy — 
you're  better  now.  All  these  years  you've  been  longing  to  see  a 
ghost,  and  when  you  come  across  a  real  substantial  one,  you  haven't 
strength  to  question  him.  Come.  I'm  going  to  send  Martha 
to  undress  you  and  put  you  to  bed.  You  will  be  all  right  in  the 
morning.  Sure  you  feel  better  now?  Then  I'll  go  downstairs, 
back  to  my  guests." 

Richard  had  retreated  as  soon  as  he  realized  that  he  was  the 
direct  cause  of  the  old  lady's  fright;  he  stood  in  the  hall  outside 
the  bedroom  door  waiting  to  see  if  he  could  be  of  any  further 
service.  As  soon  as  Miss  Fielding  had  summoned  a  neat  negro 
maid  from  one  of  the  nearby  dressing  rooms,  she  joined  him  upon 
the  stairs. 

"  I  believe  Prunesy  was  in  love  with  your  grandfather,"  she 
said.  "  I  think  I  remember  her  hinting  at  it  one  day;  and  you 
have  borrowed  his  clothes,  I  know,  for  you  look  so  different 
from  when  I  saw  you  last,  or,  perhaps,  we  are  all  dreaming  dreams 
to-night." 

"  I  believe  we  are,"  he  admitted  slowly. 

"What!    You?" 

"  The  whole  thing  has  seemed  very  unreal,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  care  only  for  realities?  " 

The  old  look  of  weariness  came  into  his  eyes.  "  I'm  tired  of 
realities." 

She  leaned  slightly  on  his  arm  as  they  descended  the  wide 
steps  together.  "  Some  realities  are  not  to  be  despised.  Food  for 
instance.  Let  us  go  and  hunt  for  some  ice  cream  together." 

[TO  BE  CONTINUED.] 


JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD. 


BY  JAMES  J.   WALSH,   M.D.,  PH.D. 

N  the  1 8th  of  April,  1888,  just  about  twenty- 
five  years  ago,  John  R.  G.  Hassard,  who  had  been  for 
nearly  twenty-five  years  before  that  very  prominent 
in  the  literary  and  newspaper  life  of  New  York, 
passed  away.  For  something  over  twenty  years 
Hassard  had  been  attached  to  the  Tribune  successively  in  the  diverse 
posts  of  special  writer,  reviewer,  managing  editor,  musical  and 
literary  critic,  as  well  as  in  furnishing  various  special  contributions 
of  other  kinds  to  the  Tribune  of  those  days.  This  year  I  was  asked 
to  lecture  on  him  in  the  Summer  School  Extension  Course,  and  was 
rather  surprised  to  find  that  it  was  by  no  means  easy  to  secure 
materials  with  regard  to  the  details  of  his  literary  career,  as  well 
as  the  influence  of  his  personality. 

He  was  entirely  too  important  in  the  Catholic  life  of  New 
York,  during  the  quarter  of  a  century  when  this  was  becoming 
the  greatest  Catholic  city  in  the  world,  for  us  to  allow  him  to  find 
a  place  so  soon  as  this  among  forgotten  worthies.  He  wrote  a 
life  of  Archbishop  Hughes,  that  has  all  the  qualities  of  a  fine 
literary  biography  composed  on  the  strictest  of  modern  lines,  using 
as  far  as  possible  the  documents  of  the  man  himself  to  illustrate 
and  set  forth  his  career.  He  was  the  author  of  a  popular  life  of 
Pius  IX.,  in  which  his  training  as  a  newspaper  man  was  particularly 
valuable.  Two  of  his  series  of  letters  to  the  Tribune,  those  in 
which  he  followed  the  scenes  of  Dickens'  novels,  and  those  written 
from  Bayreuth  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  performance  of  the 
Nibelungen  Ring  there  in  1876,  were  republished  in  book  form. 
He  was  one  of  the  editors  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD  at  its  founda- 
tion, and  as  Father  Hecker  wisely  placed  the  greatest  confidence 
in  his  judgment,  Hassard  had  undoubtedly  much  to  do  with  making 
THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD  at  once  a  distinctly  literary  periodical,  in 
the  permanent  value  of  its  contributions  very  different  from  what 
the  religious  magazine  is  sometimes  supposed  to  be. 

No  better  time  than  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  his  death 
could  well  be  found  for  gathering  the  materials  that  sum  up  his 
career.  A  number  of  those  who  knew  Hassard  well,  have  written 


350  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  [June, 

me  very  charming  letters  with  regard  to  the  personality  of  the  man. 
Many  a  man  in  newspaper  work  in  New  York,  and  many  a  promi- 
nent writer  of  the  literary  world  of  the  time,  had  imbibed  the  bitter- 
est prejudices  against  Catholics.  Most  of  them  in  the  early  sixties 
could  scarcely  understand  how  any  man  with  reasonable  common 
sense,  and  above  all  any  man  with  a  broad  education,  could  possibly 
remain  a  Catholic. 

To  such  men  Hassard  was  a  revelation.  He  was  thoroughly 
well  educated,  a  scholar,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  who  knew 
and  kept  up  his  classics,  and  who  also  knew  French  and  German 
very  well,  and  the  literatures  of  both  these  languages.  He  had  a 
fine  literary  taste,  and  a  rare  musical  culture.  To  come  in  contact 
with  him  was  to  love  him.  To  know  him  was  to  be  made  aware 
that  there  was  a  depth  to  Catholicity,  and*  above  all  to  Catholic 
thinking,  of  which  the  American  world  had  very  little  idea  at  that 
time.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  when  Hassard  graduated 
at  Fordham  in  the  middle  of  the  fifties,  and  began  his 
career  as  a  newspaper  man,  the  Know  Nothing  movement 
was  just  at  its  climax.  Well-known  publishers  in  New  York 
were  quite  willing  to  take  up  the  publication  of  vile  books 
in  which  a  wild  series  of  stories  as  to  the  abuses  in  convents  were 
told,  and  utterly  groundless  accusations  made.  Maria  Monk  was 
the  most  popular  book  of  that  time — the  best  seller — which  appealed 
at  once  to  the  pruriency  and  the  religious  prejudice  of  the  time. 
To  this  generation  the  life  and  influence  of  such  a  Catholic  scholar 
as  Hassard  was  quite  literally  a  godsend.  We  can  only  think 
of  it  now  as  providential. 

John  Rose  Greene  Hassard  was  born  September  24,  1836,  in 
Houston  Street,  New  York  City,  almost  opposite  the  old  Convent 
of  Mercy.  His  name  Hassard  was  French,  and  the  family  was 
probably  of  Huguenot  origin.  His  mother  was  a  granddaughter 
of  Commodore  Nicholson  of  Revolutionary  fame.  His  parents 
were  Episcopalians,  and  belonged  to  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Preston's  Church  before  he  became  a  convert  to  Catholicity.  At 
the  age  of  fifteen  Hassard  became  a  convert,  and  all  his  life  re- 
tained a  most  fervent  affection  for  Monsignor  Preston,  who  received 
him  into  the  Church.  He  was  a  boy  of  singular  purity  of  heart 
and  life  and  thought,  and  this  charming  quality  remained  with  him 
all  his  life,  and  is  emphasized  by  all  his  biographers. 

H*e  early  gave  signs  of  intellectual  vigor  and  promise.  After 
his  conversion  he  became  persuaded  that  it  was  his  vocation  to  be  a 


1913-]  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  351 

priest,  and  it  was  in  pursuance  of  this  idea  that  he  went  to  Fordham 
apparently  just  after  his  conversion.  In  1850-51  he  appears  in  the 
Fordham  catalogue  as  John  Hassard,  so  that  there  would  seem 
to  be  some  question  as  to  whether  he  had  not  been  there  before  his 
conversion,  whioh  is  set  down  as  1851. 

As  a  consequence  of  his  brilliant  Freshman  year  apparently, 
he  was  allowed  to  make  his  Sophomore  and  Junior  years  together. 
His  name  does  not  occur  in  the  prize  lists  in  1853  and  1854,  though 
it  is  in  the  catalogue,  but  he  graduated  in  1854-55  at  the  head  of  his 
class.  At  the  Commencement  for  the  year  1856-57,  he  received  his 
degree  of  M.  A. 

After  his  graduation  Hassard  entered  the  Diocesan  Seminary, 
which  was  then  also  situated  at  Fordham,  to  study  for  the  priest- 
hood. His  delicate  health,  however,  soon  made  it  clear  that  this 
was  not  his  place  in  life,  and  he  gave  it  up,  and  gradually  drifted 
into  journalistic  work,  at  which  he  had  dabbled  as  a  student  at 
Fordham.  He  and  James  McMahon,  who  afterwards  as  Colonel 
McMahon  of  the  Sixty-ninth  regiment  of  New  York  City,  the 
famous  Irish  regiment,  served  with  such  distinction  in  the  Civil 
War,  and  General  Martin  T.  McMahon,  afterwards  the  beloved 
Judge  McMahon,  and  Arthur  Francis,  a  clever  classmate  at  college, 
founded  and  managed  the  first  college  paper  published  at  Fordham. 
It  was  known  as  the  Goose  Quill,  doubtless  because  of  the  mode  of 
its  publication.  The  first  issue  came  out  under  the  presidency  of 
Father  Larkin,  who  was  very  much  opposed  to  newspapers  in  gen- 
eral, and  refused  to  allow  this  one  to  be  printed.  It  was  circulated 
in  written  copies,  of  which  I  think  only  one  set  remains.  It  was 
published  by  being  posted  in  the  reading  room,  though  even  the 
permission  to  do  this  was  long  withheld  by  Father  Larkin,  and  only 
grudgingly  given. 

After  his  withdrawal  from  the  Seminary,  young  Hassard 
was  for  sometime  the  secretary  of  Archbishop  Hughes.  He  con- 
tinued to  occupy  the  post  until  the  Archbishop's  death  in  January, 
1864.  After  the  Archbishop's  death,  the  task  of  writing  the 
prelate's  life,  for  which  his  years  of  secretaryship  had  so  well  pre- 
pared him,  naturally  fell  to  Hassard,  and  this  was  published  in  the 
following  year  by  D.  Appleton  and  Company. 

In  the  meantime  Hassard  had  been  writing  a  series  of  articles 
for  the  first  edition  of  the  American  Encyclopedia,  and  had  been 
helping  in  the  editing  of  it.  He  impressed  Dr.  George  Ripley,  one 
of  the  editors  of  the  work,  so  much  that  when  Ripley  went  to 


352  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  [June, 

Europe,  he  engaged  young  Hassard  to  fill  his  post  of  Literary 
Editor  of  the  Tribune.  This  seems  to  have  occurred  in  1864  after 
Archbishop  Hughes'  death.  In  1865  Father  Hecker,  of  the  recently- 
established  Paulists,  founded  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  and  Hassard 
became  the  Editor.  His  experience  on  the  American  Encyclopedia, 
and  the  many  friendships  that  he  had  already  made  because  of  his 
connection  with  the  Tribune,  were  of  great  help  to  him  in  this 
position.  He  was  able  to  secure  articles  and  interest  literary  folk 
generally  in  the  magazine,  and  as  a  consequence  it  began  almost  at 
once  to  attract  attention  from  those  outside  the  Church. 

In  1866  he  left  the  editorship  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD  to  go 
to  Chicago  with  Charles  A.  Dana,  who  had  selected  him  as  one 
of  his  assistants  for  the  editorship  of  the  Chicago  Republican, 
which  Dana  was  about  to  found.  When  that  venture  failed 
the  following  year,  Hassard  returned  to  the  Tribune,  and  con- 
tinued to  be  connected  with  that  paper  practically  until  his  death 
more  than  twenty  years  later. 

After  the  death  of  Horace  Greeley  in  1872,  for  sometime  he 
held  the  post  of  managing  editor,  and  then  became  well-known  as 
the  musical  critic  of  the  Tribune.  Monsignor  Preston  once  said  of 
him,  and  few  men  knew  him  better :  "  Although  he  never  learned 
music  from  a  master,  he  could  play  almost  any  piece  on  the  organ, 
and  follow  with  the  score  the  most  difficult  symphonies.  I  have 
heard  Theodore  Thomas  express  the  greatest  admiration  for  his 
musical  abilities,  and  say  that  he  considered  him  the  best  critic 
in  that  particular  branch  whom  he  had  ever  seen  or  known."  His 
musical  library,  one  of  the  best  private  libraries  in  that  department 
in  the  country,  went  to  the  Cathedral  library  on  his  death. 

He  was  the  original  Wagnerian  among  Americans  who  in- 
fluenced others  to  appreciate  properly  the  work  that  Wagner  had 
done  for  music,  and  the  genius  with  which  he  had  combined  the  two 
great  arts  of  music  and  the  drama.  When,  in  1876,  on  the  completion 
of  the  great  theatre  and  opera  house  at  Bayreuth,  the  Nibelungen 
Tetralogy  was  for  the  first  time  given  in  what  the  master  con- 
sidered a  worthy  manner  in  a  worthy  setting,  Hassard  made  the 
pilgrimage  to  what  was  to  be  for  Wagner ians  thereafter  the  musical 
Mecca,  and  wrote  a  series  of  letters  to  the  Tribune  describing  his 
experience.  These  are  sometimes  said  to  have  done  more  to  make 
"  the  music  of  the  future,"  as  Wagner  loved  to  call  it,  better 
known,  and  above  all  to  secure  a  serious  hearing  for  it  in  America, 
than  anything  that  had  been  done  up  to  that  time.  The  letters 


1913.]  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  353, 

have  the  definite  detail,  the  human  sympathy,  the  picturesque 
quality  that  came  so  naturally  to  Hassard  from  his  newspaper  ex- 
perience, but  above  all  they  show  rare  insight  into  the  music  and 
the  drama,  and  are  full  of  the  spirit  of  the  wonderful  presenta- 
tion and  the  magnificent  stage  setting  so  worthily  given  to  the  Wag- 
nerian  music  dramas.  Even  at  the  present  time  there  are  few  books 
more  likely  to  set  one  directly  in  sympathy  with  Wagner,  and  the 
music  movement  originated  by  him,  than  Hassard's  Ring  of  The 
Nibelungs — a  description  of  its  performance  in  August,  1876,  at 
Bayreuth. 

Besides  his  musical  criticisms,  he  wrote  also  many  book  reviews, 
and  not  all  in  the  conventional  way.  His  reviews  were  often 
looked  for  appreciatively  by  those  who  had  no  hint  of  the  man  him- 
self. In  his  sketch  of  Hassard's  life,  published  just  after  his  death 
in  the  Evening  Post,  Joseph  Bucklin  Bishop  said :  "  He  could  put 
the  atmosphere  of  a  book  into  his  review  of  it,  and  the  work  always 
bore  the  stamp  of  his  personal  character.  His  censure  never  carried 
a  sting  with  it,  and  though  he  could  smite  hard  and  strike  home  on 
occasions,  he  always  dealt  his  blows  like  a  true  man  and  a  Christian 
gentleman." 

In  the  meantime  Hassard  had  published  other  books  besides 
the  Bayreuth  letters,  though  it  happened  that  this  year,  1877,  was 
a  crowded  year  of  publications  by  him.  A  life  of  Pope  Pius  IX. 
written  just  after  the  pontiff's  death ;  a  history  of  the  United  States 
for  Catholic  schools,  besides  the  work  on  Wagner's  performance, 
were  all  issued  in  1877.  Some  ten  years  before  he  had  completed 
a  life  of  Archbishop  Hughes,  which  has  remained  the  standard  life 
of  that  great  prelate. 

For  lovers  of  Dickens,  Hassard's  A  Pickwickian  Pilgrimage 
will  be  very  interesting.  He  followed  faithfully  through  the  scenes 
described  by  Dickens.  As  the  slums  of  London  have  since  changed 
very  much,  this  record  has  now  become  a  precious  historical  docu- 
ment for  the  understanding  of  Dickens,  and  one  of  abiding  value. 

A  very  interesting  incident  in  Hassard's  life  as  a  newspaper 
man,  was  the  translation  of  the  cipher  telegrams  which  had  been 
sent  during  the  Tilden-Hayes  post-election  uncertainty,  when  a 
single  electoral  vote  stood  between  Mr.  Tilden  and  the  Presidency. 
Unfortunately  the  incident  was  to  have  serious  consequences  for 
Hassard,  for  all  of  his  friends  attribute  the  beginning  of  the  serious 
development  of  his  consumption  to  the  uninterrupted  work  for  days 
which  he  gave  to  this  problem. 

VOL.   XCVII. — 23. 


354  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  [June, 

Unfortunately  Hassard's  absorption  night  and  day  in  this 
problem  deprived  him  of  sleep,  and  seriously  impaired  his  health. 
Great  things  were  hoped  for  from  him,  however,  but  they  were  not 
to  be.  It  is  interesting  to  know  that  in  the  early  eighties, 
when  the  circulation  of  the  New  York  World,  which  was  then  con- 
ducted very  much  on  the  lines  of  the  Evening  Post  of  the  present 
time,  was  rapidly  decreasing.  Monsignor  Preston  and  Father 
Dealy,  S  J.,  made  a  definite  effort  to  secure  sufficient  money  to  pur- 
chase and  finance  it,  so  as  to  make  it  a  representative  Catholic  daily. 
They  were  quite  sure  that  the  need  was  so  great  that  it  would 
not  be  hard  to  make  wealthy  Catholics  feel  the  necessity  of  having 
not  only  a  religious  organ,  but  a  great  representative  daily  paper, 
all  of  the  writers  for  which  would  be  men  of  Catholic  principles. 
Hassard  was  to  have  been  the  managing  editor ;  his  long  and  varied 
experience  in  newspaper  work  eminently  fitted  him  for  the  position, 
but  it  is  doubtful  whether  his  health,  so  seriously  undermined,  would 
have  permitted  him  to  take  it  up.  There  proved  to  be  no  need  for 
him  to  make  the  decision,  however,  because  in  spite  of  the  evident 
necessity  for  such  a  paper,  which  has  continued  all  during  the  thirty 
years  since,  no  Catholic  daily  has  yet  been  founded,  though  almost 
every  phase  of  opinion  and  nationality  has  a  daily  paper  in  New 
York. 

For  some  years  after  this  a  good  deal  of  Hassard's  time  was 
spent  in  an  unavailing  search  after  health.  During  the  time  when 
he  was  so  much  absorbed  in  the  solution  of  the  cipher  telegrams, 
a  cold  developed  that  hung  on.  Hassard  spent  a  winter  in  Nassau, 
a  winter  in  the  south  of  France,  and  spent  his  summer  in  a  camp 
in  the  Adirondacks  Only  one  year  did  he  venture  to  winter  at 
Saranac.  The  disease  made  progress  in  spite  of  every  effort,  and 
Hassard  faced  the  inevitable  with  calmness,  working  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  utterly  uncomplaining.  Sketches  of  him  are  full  of  this 
unselfish  trait.  It  was  not  realized  until  a  few  days  before  the  end 
that  he  was  very  seriously  ill,  and  his  passing  was  so  quiet  that  Mon- 
signor Preston,  who  stayed  over  night  at  the  house,  said  that  no  one 
could  tell  the  moment  of  his  death.  He  had  faced  eternity  with  the 
quiet  calmness  that  he  had  displayed  towards  an  ever-advancing  dis- 
ease, and  fortified  by  the  sacraments  of  the  Church,  which  had  been . 
such  a  source  of  consolation  to  him  during  his  long  and  trying  ill- 
ness, he  retained  his  consciousness  almost  to  the  end,  dying  sur- 
roundeM  by  his  wife  and  some  near  relatives. 

Hassard's  personal  character  was  very  charming,  and  produced 


1913.]  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  355 

a  deep  impression  on  all  those  who  came  closely  in  contact  with  him. 
Mr.  Joseph  Bucklin  Bishop,  now  Secretary  of  the  Isthmian  Canal 
Commission,  said  in  a  personal  letter :  "  Hassard  was  my  warm 
personal  friend  for  many  years,  and  I  have  found  no  one  since  his 
death  to  take  his  place.  His  was  the  most  unselfish,  gentle,  pure 
spirit  I  have  ever  known,  and  his  love  for  me  fell  upon  my  life  as 
a  benediction." 

Men  who  are  now  old,  and  for  whom  the  world  has  had  many 
experiences  and  disillusions,  who  knew  him  well  years  ago,  speak 
in  this  hearty,  feeling,  reverential  way  about  him.  At  the  time  of 
his  death,  William  Winter  expressed  it  very  strikingly  in  his  obit- 
uary in  the  New  York  Tribune:  "  Mr.  Hassard  was  always 
thoughtful  of  others,  always  doing  little  acts  of  courtesy  and  kind- 
ness." He  had  begun  his  obituary  proper  with  the  words :  "  The 
duty  of  recording  his  death  falls  naturally  upon  one  who  in  life, 
and  for  many  years,  stood  nearest  his  side,  and  was  honored  with 
his  affection  and  confidence.  It  is  inexpressibly  pathetic  and 
solemn  to  the  friend  who  writes  these  words,  for  not  alone  is  it 
fitting  that  love  should  utter  the  sense  of  bereavement,  but  that 
thought  should  express  its  conviction  of  public  no  less  than  per- 
sonal loss." 

Mr.  Winter  said  of  Mr.  Hassard's  career : 

Mr.  Hassard  was  a  journalist,  but  he  was  also  a  man  of 
letters,  and  in  both  capacities  exerted  eminent  talents  in  a  pro- 
foundly conscientious  spirit,  and  with  a  passionate  loyalty  to  the 
highest  standard  of  principle,  learning,  and  taste. 

As  a  journalist  he  knew  that  the  first  and  most  essential  func- 
tion of  a  newspaper  is  the  presentation  of  news;  but  as  a  man 
of  letters  he  was  aware  that  the  pictorial  facts,  and  the  facts 
of  thought  and  feeling,  are  not  less  actual  or  less  important 
than  the  superficial  aspects  of  the  passing  hour.  [Italics  are 
ours;  the  expression  seems  so  significant  for  our  time,  when 
such  journalism  is  more  sadly  needed  than  in  the  seventies.] 

He  treated  many  subjects,  ranging  over  a  period  of  many 
years,  during  which  he  was  in  the  continuous  service  of  the 
press,  and  writing  in  the  different  veins  of  narrative,  descrip- 
tion, criticism,  satire,  and  desultory  comment.  But  whatever 
the  subject  might  be,  he  never  failed  either  to  satisfy  his  read- 
ers that  every  material  fact  of  the  matter  had  been  stated, 
or  to  impress  their  minds  with  his  absolute  sincerity,  his  breadth 
of  view,  his  wisdom,  his  pure  moral  principle,  his  fine  and  true 


356  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  [June, 

taste,  and  his  noble  ideals  of  social  order  and  personal  comment. 
It  was  this  double  power,  this  power  of  presenting  the  picture 
of  actual  life,  and  at  the  same  time  of  indicating  its  motive,  its 
interior  spirit,  its  accessories,  and  its  meaning  that  made  him  an 
exceptional  force  in  the  profession  which  he  dignified  and 
adorned,  and  which  suffers  in  his  death  an  irreparable  loss. 

No  more  touching  tribute  to  an  American  newspaper  man  has 
perhaps  ever  been  written ;  none  that  one  could  well  wish  to  deserve 
more  than  the  paragraph  of  Mr.  Winter's  obituary,  in  which  he 
sums  up  Hassard's  character: 

The  great  public  of  miscellaneous  readers  cannot,  perhaps, 
rationally  be  supposed  to  cherish  any  very  deep  interest  in  such 
a  personality  for  any  great  length  of  time  after  its  career  has 
ended.  But  it  was  a  personality  that  blessed  many  who  never 
heard  of  it,  while  those  whose  privilege  it  was  to  know  Mr. 
Hassard  well,  and  to  know  his  labors  and  their  value,  will 
eagerly  and  tenderly  meditate  now  upon  the  rare  qualities  and 
beautiful  traits  of  his  mind,  and  will  be  very  slow  to  forget 
the  charm  of  his  companionship,  and  the  lesson  of  his  pure, 
blameless,  devoted,  and  beneficent  life. 

The  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  his  close  friends  can 
be  judged  very  well  from  the  concluding  paragraph  of  Bucklin 
Bishop's  obituary  in  the  Evening  Post: 

All  his  work  was  in  brief  like  himself,  full  of  gentleness, 
dignity,  and  sweetness.  He  put  his  personality  into  all  that 
he  did,  and  he  was  a  very  keen  observer ;  had  a  delightful  sense 
of  humor,  and  a  quick  insight  into  the  motives  and  conduct  of 
his  fellowman,  yet  he  never  said  a  word  or  wrote  a  line  which 
carried  pain  or  left  a  wound.  He  was  as  full  of  charity  and 
helpfulness  to  others  as  he  was  absolutely  lacking  in  the  quality 
of  selfishness.  It  was  a  lifelong  habit  with  him  never  to  speak 
of  his  own  work  or  his  own  feelings.  From  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  his  long  illness,  not  one  word  of  impatience  or  of 
complaint  escaped  him.  A  more  unselfish,  generous,  noble  soul 
never  lived.  No  man  ever  knew  him  but  to  become  his  friend, 
and  in  all  the  world  he  had  no  enemies.  He  was  a  true  man, 
ta  faithful  friend,  a  good  workman,  a  devout  Christian,  and  the 
world  which  is  better  because  he  lived  in  it  is  poorer  to-day, 
as  it  always  is,  when  such  a  spirit  departs  from  it. 


1913.]  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  357 

Father  Campbell,  S.J.,  in  his  sermon  at  the  funeral,  described 
that  charm  of  Hassard's  personal  character  of  which  we  find  echo 
in  the  letters  from  those  who  knew  him  best : 

What  a  beautiful  life  his  was,  what  wonder  is  it  Jesus  loved 
him!  From  the  early  days  at  school,  where  his  memory  still 
lingers  as  a  benediction,  and  where  the  mention  of  his  name 
calls  up  enthusiasm  in  the  old  professors  who  first  guided  his 
eager  footsteps  in  the  ways  of  virtue — afterwards  through  all 
his  eventful  and  full,  but  tranquil  and  alas!  too  brief  career, 
which  seems  as  we  look  at  it  in  retrospect  as  if  bathed  in 
the  soft  radiance  of  the  uninterrupted  light  of  God's  love — 
onward  until  it  led  to  those  nine  weary  years  of  suffering, 
which  were  borne  with  a  sweet  resignation  that  disguised  its 
keenness  and  extent,  and  were  made  to  perfect  the  exquisite 
powers  of  the  mind  while  the  weak  frame  was  wasting  away, 
down  to  that  supreme  moment  when  again  like  his  beloved 
namesake  he  fell  asleep  on  the  bosom  of  Christ,  who  can  say 
that  there  was  anything  in  his  singularly  beautiful  life  to 
repel  the  tenderness  which  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  has  for 
souls  that  live  in  Him  in  purity  and  faith.  He  whose  lips  never 
uttered  words  not  tender  and  loving  to  the  humblest  that  came 
within  the  sphere  of  his  gentle  influence,  whose  heart  never 
harbored  rancor  or  ill  will,  who,  as  one  of  his  devoted  friends 
has  written  of  him,  has  never  lost  a  friend  nor  made  an  enemy, 
could  not  be  repellent  or  harsh  or  cold  when  the  heart  of 
Christ  was  pleading. 

That  these  tender  expressions  were  not  the  result  of  the  imme- 
diate sense  of  loss  alone,  but  the  utterance  of  deep  feelings  never 
to  be  forgotten,  can  be  judged  from  Mr.  Bucklin  Bishop's  letter 
to  me,  already  quoted,  written  twenty-five  years  after  Hassard's 
death.  In  his  little  volume,  Old  Shrines  and  Ivy,  published  years 
afterwards,  Mr.  William  Winter  renews  his  appreciation  of  Has- 
sard  in  terms  that  are  not  less  hearty  nor  less  affectionate. 

Among  the  old-fashioned  phrases  of  eulogy,  there  is  one  that 
long  usage  has  rendered  conventional;  but  it  is  very  expres- 
sive :  He  was  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar.  It  is  much  to  deserve 
those  names.  John  Hassard  entirely  deserved  them,  and  he 
bore  them  with  the  sweet  modesty,  unconscious  humility,  and 
native  and  winning  gentleness  of  an  unselfish  nature.  He  was 
always  thoughtful  for  others;  always  doing  acts  of  courtesy 


358  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  [June, 

and  kindness.  He  was  ever  to  be  found  on  the  side  of  chivalry 
toward  women,  and  his  active  consideration  for  young  people, 
especially  for  working  boys,  and  his  sweet  manner  toward 
children,  much  endeared  him  wherever  he  went. 

While  Hassard  was  an  extremely  quiet  and  peaceful  man  yet, 
when  aroused,  he  was  well  capable  of  fighting  a  question  out  very 
thoroughly,  especially  when  the  question  involved  was  one  that 
touched  him  deeply.  This  was  particularly  true  of  religious  bigotry 
and  prejudice,  and  in  his  time  there  was,  if  possible,  more  oppor- 
tunity either  to  bear  grimly  with  ignorance  and  foolishness,  or  to 
strike  back,  than  there  is  in  our  own.  On  a  number  of  occa- 
sions Hassard's  temper  was  aroused,  and  men  learned  that  there  was 
a  limit  to  his  patience.  A  rather  bigoted  Protestant  had  insisted 
in  the  public  press  on  the  abuse  of  State  moneys  in  giving  them 
to  Catholic  charities,  and  had  hinted  that  no  proper  accounting  for 
such  moneys  was  ever  rendered.  Hassard  set  a  board  of  ac- 
countants at  work,  and  after  weeks  of  investigation  the  report 
that  he  published  showed  every  dollar  of  money  spent  at  Catholic 
institutions  properly  accounted  for;  that  charity  was  accom- 
plished without  waste,  and  above  all  without  the  big  administrative 
expenses  that  characterized  Protestant  institutions.  This  pub- 
lication created  a  sensation,  and  silenced  carping  critics  for  this 
generation. 

It  would  be  idle  to  claim  for  Mr.  Hassard  merit  and  greatness, 
that  he  would  have  been  himself  the  first  to  repudiate.  He  was 
eminently  sane  and  properly  modest,  and  his  estimate  of  his  own 
qualities  was  always  humble.  He  did  fine  work,  however,  in  his  in- 
fluence on  his  own  generation,  and  especially  on  the  educated  people 
of  New  York  in  his  day.  His  intense  Catholicity  made  that  influence 
all  the  more  precious  for  the  Church.  The  admiration  for  his  beau- 
tiful character,  together  with  the  affection  it  evoked,  his  wide  eru- 
dition, his  really  deep  scholarship  in  subjects  with  which  he  was  ac- 
quainted, and  his  unerring  taste  in  matters  literary  and  musical,  all 
attracted  attention  to  him,  while  his  unobtrusive  but  fervent  Catho- 
licity made  those  who  knew  him  well  feel  very  differently  towards 
the  Church  of  which  he  thought  so  much.  Example  above  all,  when 
it  is  close  up,  counts  for  ever  so  much  more  than  precept,  and  the 
life  of  a  man  of  this  kind  has  a  far  more  potent  influence  than  any 
amount  of  controversy. 

John  R.  G;  Hassard  was  one  of  Fordham's  contributions  to  the 


1913-]  JOHN  R.  G.  HASSARD  359 

better  part  of  the  life  of  New  York  City.  There  were  many  others 
during  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  but  perhaps  none 
that  accomplished  so  well  what  beloved  old  St.  John's  would  most 
care  to  have  her  sons  do.  Hassard  himself  had  the  tenderest  mem- 
ories of  his  years  there,  and  of  the  precious  associations  there 
formed,  and  felt  all  his  life  the  deep  influence  of  her  teaching.  This 
was  one  of  the  most  charming  recollections  of  the  little  communica- 
tions that,  as  an  editor  of  the  Fordham  Monthly,  I  had  with  him 
in  Father  Dealy's  time.  It  was  a  renewal  of  affection  for 
what  was  really  Alma  Mater  to  him,  the  fond  mother  of  his  young 
manhood,  to  come  back  to  Fordham.  To  the  student  for  whom  as 
yet  distance  had  not  lent  the  enchantment  of  college  days,  it  came 
as  a  surprise  to  note  the  depth  of  that  affection.  It  was  an  incentive 
to  higher  things  to  see  how  the  old  life  lived  for  him,  and  how 
much  he  felt  its  influence  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  his  immersion 
in  the  busy  life  of  the  metropolis.  Fordham  men  at  least  will  not 
willingly  let  the  memory  of  Hassard  pass  into  oblivion,  and  it  is 
the  memory  of  the  old  place  and  the  old  days  that  almost  more  than 
anything  else  has  led  to  the  writing  of  this  sketch,  which  I  fondly 
hope  will  renew  for  a  third  generation  of  New  York  Catholics  the 
memory  of  one  of  our  dearest  and  venerated  alumni. 


THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL. 

BY    JEANIE   DRAKE. 

HEN  Dr.  Marbury  excited  the  passing  wonder  of  his 
colleagues  by  inviting  the  young  and,  as  yet,  obscure 
Dr.  Norman  Joyce  to  be  his  assistant,  he  explained 
as  much  as  he  ever  explained  anything  save  some 
novel,  scientific  theory. 

"  The  young  fellow  shows  promise.  He  need  not  hamper  me; 
can  take  considerable  drudgery  off  my  hands,  and  so  afford  me 
more  leisure  for  experiment." 

Dr.  Joyce  himself  was  full  of  amazement  when  the  proposition, 
briefly  but  with  flattering  directness,  was  laid  before  him.  He  was 
not  aware  that  the  distinguished  surgeon  had,  for  months,  been 
quietly  but  keenly  observant  of  him  at  lecture,  convention,  clinic, 
and  all  such  occasions  as  assemble  equally  the  great  and  small  of 
their  profession. 

"  You  overwhelm  me,  Dr.  Marbury,"  he  declared.  "  There 
are  many  of  twice  my  age  and  reputation  who  would  feel  honored, 
as  I  do,  by  such  a  compliment;  but — " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  should  burden  you.  I  have  so  little  experience  with  the 
wealthy  and  fanciful  invalid  class." 

"  That,"  with  easy  cynicism,  "  is  quickly  learned." 

Then  Norman  Joyce  found  courage  to  confront  the  keen  gaze 
which  watched  him.  "Perhaps.  But  you  know  Flint  Street?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  it.  Somewhere  in  the  slums,  isn't  it?  One 
of  the  dirty,  disease-breeding  purlieus  which  disgrace  the  city." 

The  young  man's  face  was  very  red ;  but  he  continued  stoutly : 
"  My  office  is  there.  I  have  practiced  among  those  poor  creatures 
ever  since  graduation.  I  should  find  it  hard,  I  might  even  say 
they  would,  if  I  should  abandon  them  entirely." 

"  Surely  you  would  not  let  that  sort  of  thing  stand  in  the  way 
of  such  advancement  as  I  offer?  Besides" — impressively — "the 
chance  of  studying  such  problems  as  interest  the  expert  physician." 

"  Are  these  greater  among  the  rich  than  among  the  poor?  " 

"  No,  but  the  renown  and  reward  are  greater.  What,"  with 
some  impatience,  "  are  you  asking,  Dr.  Joyce?  " 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  361 

"  This,"  said  the  young  man,  with  deference,  but  firmly,  "  that 
in  accepting  this  great  honor,  I  may  have  certain  free  hours 
daily/' 

"  Do  these,"  he  had  nearly  said  "  vermin,"  but  substituted 
"  people,  pay  you  at  all?  " 

"  A  little,"  flushing  again,  as  a  picture  rose  in  his  mind  of  his 
one  bare  room  over  the  office  in  Flint  Street. 

The  great  specialist's  electric  brougham  was  waiting  for  him, 
and  his  moments  were  precious.  "  Have  your  way,  then,"  he  said. 

"  We  will  arrange  as  to  hours  and  salary  later." 

As  he  rolled  swiftly  away  from  the  hospital,  Dr.  Joyce  boarded 
a  crowded  trolley  car.  Hanging  to  a  strap,  he  suddenly  realized, 
for  the  first  time,  this  wonderful  thing  which  had  happened  to  him. 
Dr.  Marbury,  whose  lectures  and  clinics  had  been  to  him,  in 
student  days,  awe-inspiring,  momentous  events;  whose  printed 
words  in  medical  journals  he  had  devoured;  whose  surgical  work 
he  had  watched  in  breathless  admiration  of  the  clear,  comprehending 
gaze;  the  deft  and  certain  movements  of  the  wrist;  the  amazingly 
few  and  precise  turns  of  the  keen  steel  on  its  swift  mission.  He 
had  always  regarded  him  as  a  bright,  particular  star,  from  whom 
half  a  universe  divided  his  own  unknown  and  struggling  self.  That 
he  should  be  selected,  among  the  juniors,  to  be  such  a  man's  partner, 
even  though  salaried,  it  was  stupendous !  "  What  will  Mrs.  RafTerty 
say  to  this  ?  "  he  wondered,  with  a  tremendous  twist  of  his  rather 
plain  features. 

He  was  soon  to  know,  for  the  trolley  had  wormed  its  way, 
from  the  stately  region  where  the  great  hospital  stood,  down  into 
streets  where  swarmed  struggling  and  suffering  thousands.  At  one 
of  the  dingiest  and  noisiest  corners,  he  swung  himself  off,  and  pres- 
ently ran  up  the  broken  steps  of  a  shabby  house. 

'  You're  behind  your  time,"  complained  the  stalwart,  florid 
woman  who  met  him  in  a  narrow  hallway,  full  of  the  odors  of 
cookery.  And  little  Johnny  fair  wailin'  for  ye." 

He  knew  this  for  a  touch  of  the  Celtic  imagination,  so  he  only 
smiled  as  he  went  in  to  pat  the  wistful,  little  cripple  on  the  head. 
He  attended  to  the  pitiful  claims  of  those  awaiting  him  with  his 
usual  care  and  patience.  And  the  beef  and  cabbage  had  been 
warmed  over  twice  before  he  tasted  and  left  it. 

"  Sure,"  said  the  landlady,  who  mothered  him,  according  to 
warm  heart  and  small  means,  "yer  appetite's  clean  gone  waitin' 
till  this  hour!  Anyhow,  'tis  small  good  it'd  do  ye  eatin'  on  the 
jump." 


362  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  [June, 

"  I  do  give  you  a  lot  of  trouble,  Mrs.  Rafferty.  Now,  how 
would  you  like  to  be  rid  of  me?  " 

"  Rid  of  ye,  is  it?     Now,  what's  that  mane?  " 

He  jumped,  apprehensively,  into  an  account  of  the  impending 
change;  nor  was  he  mistaken  in  its  effect.  For  already  was  her 
apron  over  her  head,  and  her  stout  body  rocking  to  and  fro. 

"  Oh,  wirra,  wirra,  him  that's  been  like  a  child  to  me !  Him 
that  brung  me  from  death's  dure  last  year  with  the  pneumony,  an' 
was  that  long  sufferin'  with  a  cranky  old  woman,  an'  wouldn't 
take  a  cent  from  Tim — " 

"  Now,  see  here,  Mrs.  Rafferty,  if  you  go  on  that  way,  I'll 
send  you  a  bill  that  will  make  you  sit  up.  Am  I  going  to  the 
North  Pole  or  to  Africa?  And — and  listen,  Mrs.  Rafferty" — 
desperately — "  I'm  keeping  my  office  here,  and  will  be  back  every 
day  and  straight  to  you  if  you  get  pneumonia  again,  which  you'd 
better  not  do.  You  ought,"  with  reproach,  "  to  be  rejoicing  in  my 
good  fortune." 

"  Then,  that's  true  for  ye,"  wiping  her  eyes,  and  straightening 
her  combs.  "  I'll — I'll  just  be  packing  your  things." 

"  Not  much  of  a  job,"  he  laughed,  and  went  out  to  make 
some  neighborhood  calls.  "  Frenchy,  of  coorse,"  muttered  Mrs. 
Rafferty,  putting  his  slender  belongings  together. 

"  It's  an  ordeal,"  sighed  Dr.  Joyce,  mounting  the  rickety 
stairs  of  the  swarming  tenement,  where  existed  the  last  of  his 
many  poor  patients.  For  each  of  these  had  shown  feeling  at  the 
prospect  of  his  removal  as  deep,  if  not  as  boisterous,  as  Mrs. 
Rafferty's.  "  Now,  then,  Aristide,  how  goes  it?  "  he  asked,  reach- 
ing the  young  Frenchman's  squalid  garret. 

"  111  enough,  my  doctor,"  answered  Aristide  Remy.  "  It  was 
an  evil  day  when  I  tempted  the  rigors  of  this  climate — for  what? 
For  more  money,  if  you  please,  which  I  shall  never  have.  I  should 
have  been  content  with  a  competence  in  my  own  land,  for  I  was 
not  strong.  There  was  health  there,  and  wants  were  simple  in  my 
Limoges,  my  own  dear  native  France,  which  I  shall  see  no  more !  " 
The  doctor's  conscience  forbade  a  contradiction;  but  he  said,  with 
gentle  steadiness: 

"  There  is  a  better  land,  my  friend,  native  to  us  all,  I  hope. 
Now  you  shall  have  this  tonic,  and  I  have  brought  a  Petit  Journal 
to  read  you  a  page  or  two."  Certainly  it  would  have  excited  a 
smile  ;n  Dr.  Marbury  to  see  the  able  young  physician,  selected 
by  him  as  of  brilliant  promise,  so  wasting  valuable  time. 

The  remove  once  made,  the  partners  fell  into  their  daily  rou- 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  363 

tine  easily  enough.  For  both  men  were  gifted  for  their  noble 
profession.  Both  with  mind  alert  to  test  with  care,  and  use  with 
skill,  each  new  discovery  for  suffering  humanity's  healing,  both, 
though  widely  differing,  with  manner  and  bearing  which  inspired 
confidence. 

"  Rooms  at  the  Sutherland  would  be  convenient,"  suggested 
the  elder;  and  Dr.  Joyce,  in  fairy-like  transformation,  found  him- 
self in  an  environment  so  artistic  and  luxurious  as  almost  to  oppress 
so  hard  a  student  and  worker.  "  A  quiet,  little  electric  will,  of 
course,  be  necessary  to  save  time,"  was  Dr.  Marbury's  next  hint, 
and  the  junior  recognized  the  necessity  for  this,  too,  in  his  altered 
position. 

"  It's  just  as  well  I'm  a  bachelor,  though,"  he  reflected,  "  for 
my  salary  hardly  covers  all  this."  But  he  was  caught  up  by  the 
larger  range  of  opportunity  he  now  had  in  his  beloved  profession, 
practiced  under  every  advantage  of  association  with  the  learned 
and  most  skillful. 

"  I  am  by  way  of  being  proud  of  my  partner,"  complimented 
Dr.  Marbury,  too  sure  of  his  own  high  place  to  grudge  encourage- 
ment to  a  junior.  "  The  great  Caswell  spoke  highly  of  your  hand- 
ling of  that  infantile  paralysis  case." 

"  Praise  from  Sir  Hubert,"  murmured  Joyce. 

"  He  thinks  your  change  of  treatment  at  the  critical  moment 
saved  the  child's  life." 

"  Under  God,"  said  Joyce  in  lower  murmur. 

"  Rather  a  pity,"  with  something  of  mockery,  "  that  this  was 
in  one  point  true;  otherwise  a  coal  baron's  daughter!  Nothing 
special  in  it  for  you.  Whereas,  if  you  properly  utilized  your  free 
hours — " 

.  Strangely  enough  this  swelled  that  undertone  of  incomplete- 
ness mortals  so  often  feel  in  moments  of  apparent  success.  "  Noth- 
ing possible,"  his  soul  said  to  him,  "without  God's  blessing," 
and  he  went  down  to  see  Aristide  Remy,  now  failing  fast. 

On  his  return  from  Flint  Street,  he  found  Dr.  Marbury  in 
their  offices.  It  'could  never  be  said  that  the  great  specialist  was 
seen  to  be  perturbed.  But  his  handsome  and  regular  features 
wore  now  a  slight  frown. 

'  That  man,  our  assistant,  whom  I  dismissed  last  week,  as 
you  know,  seemed  a  treasure,  quick  and  intelligent.  I  had  reason 
to  suspect  him  of  using  his  intelligence  badly,  and  find  now  he 
has  stolen  some  valuable  notes  of  an  experiment  quite  incomplete. 
I  will  take  steps  to  prevent  its  being  let  loose  upon  humanity  for 


364  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  [June, 

some  quack's  benefit.  Meanwhile,  the  janitor  proving  insufficient, 
I  have  engaged  a  girl,  which  seems  safer  on  the  whole.  Out  of  a 
mob  of  applicants,  this  one  struck  me  as  of  quiet  and  sensible 
appearance.  Is  the  daughter  of  a  college  professor,  who  not  being 
pushing  in  these  pushing  days,  left  nothing  to  wife  and  child  when 
he  died.  The  girl  supports  her  mother  by  decorating  china — 
or  some  such  thing — and  pay  for  her  two  hours  daily  here  will, 
it  seems,  be  helpful.  One  recommendation — she  dresses  quietly, 
and  looks  capable  and  unobtrusive." 

From  this  business-like  account,  Dr.  Joyce  was  hardly  pre- 
pared for  the  girl  who  presented  herself  next  day,  so  unmistakable 
was  the  atmosphere  of  refinement  which  marked  her.  Yet  Dr. 
Marbury's  "  capable  and  unobtrusive  "  were  adjectives  which  fitted 
her,  and  she  was  certainly  quiet  in  dress.  So  quiet,  indeed,  that 
one  might  see  her  many  times  before  recognizing  how  becoming 
a  frame  her  simple  draperies  and  white  at  neck  and  wrists  were  to 
her  wavy  chestnut  hair  and  dark-blue  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  see.  Thank  you,  I  understand,"  "said  her  clear,  low 
voice  to  such  hints  as  Dr.  Joyce  thought  necessary.  And  presently 
he  forgot  her  existence,  until  such  moment  as  required  service 
found  a  woman  instead  of  a  man  at  his  elbow. 

"Wouldn't  a  trained  nurse  have  fitted  the  place?"  he  asked 
Dr.  Marbury. 

"  In  view  of  George's  exploit,  I  wanted  someone  with  no 
knowledge  of  medicine.  The  laboratory  is  not  always  locked.  But 
if  this  Miss  Wilmer  annoys  you  with  any  fine  lady  airs  of  faint- 
ness  or  such  nonsense,  send  her  off.  There  are  plenty  more.  But 
of  nurses  we  get  enough  in  the  hospitals.  This  young  woman 
would,  doubtless,  under  favorable  circumstances,  have  been  a  so- 
ciety butterfly,  one  of  those  who  simply  cumber  the  earth." 

It  came  to  Dr.  Joyce  vaguely  that  he  had  heard  of  inclination 
towards  the  handsome,  wealthy  surgeon  from  such  extremes  as  a 
head  nurse  here  or  a  society  belle  there,  which,  in  the  frost  of 
his  contemptuous  indifference,  had  not  even  budded. 

"If  this  girl  seems  equal  to  the  work,  why  let  her  be  of  use," 
the  surgeon  finished,  indifferently. 

But  the  hint  which  the  more  imaginative  and  sensitive  junior 
had  dropped  may  have  made  him  curious.  Accustomed  to  all  sorts 
of  experiment,  he  made  a  point  of  being  oftener  at  the  office, 
and  of  constantly  requiring  Miss  Wilmer 's  services.  The  more 
especially  if  such  minor  emergency  cases  as  could  be  tended  here 
were  of  gory  or  revolting  appearance. 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  365 

She  stood  the  test,  bringing  bandage  or  antiseptic  as  required 
with  quiet  serviceableness.  And  when  the  ordeal  was  over,  if  he 
gained  sardonic  pleasure  from  quickened  breathing  or  paler  cheek 
which  his  practiced  eye  discerned,  she  was  quite  unconscious  of  it. 

"  She  will  do  well  enough,"  he  told  Dr.  Joyce,  carelessly. 
"  I  would  rather  have  them  sensitive.  It  is  the  more  intelligent 
temperament,  when  they  can  control  themselves." 

Dr.  Joyce  was  silent.  His  senior's  tone  about  women  gener- 
ally had  jarred  upon  him  before  now.  Personally,  he  would  have 
preferred  the  office  assistant  to  be  of  less  fine  clay.  One  whom 
he  could  have  forgotten  in  her  absence,  while  valuing  her  during 
the  two  hours'  employ.  But  so  swiftly  and  easily  had  Miss  Wilmer 
fallen  into  the  necessary  routine,  that  he  recognized,  with  a  touch 
of  gratitude,  that  her  presence  was  not  only  indispensable,  but  pleas- 
ant as  well.  A  slender,  girlish  figure  which  moved  gracefully 
as  noiselessly;  a  low  voice  which  gave  gentle  courteous  greeting 
upon  entrance,  had  certainly  their  soothing  value  for  a  conscientious, 
sometimes  overwrought,  worker.  He  began,  unconsciously,  to  as- 
sociate her  in  his  mind  with  the  flowers  always  profuse  in  the 
waiting-room. 

And  once,  Dr.  Marbury  making  one  of  his  unexpected  visits, 
when  a  tiny  glass  of  violets  had  somehow  crept  into  the  inner  room, 
it  was  with  a  little  shock  of  sympathy  that  he  saw  him  catch  it  up 
and  throw  it  out  on  the  lawn. 

"  What  confounded  nonsense  is  this?  "  said  the  surgeon  curtly, 
and  glanced  severely  at  Constance  Wilmer. 

The  girl,  lowering  her  head  over  the  work  which  engaged  all 
three,  was  unlucky  enough  to  have  a  strand  of  hair  catch  on  his 
cuff-button.  It  was  quickly  disengaged,  but  when  the  patient, 
duly  bandaged,  was  sent  away  he  remarked  icily :  "  Flowers  are 
well  enough  in  the  waiting-room.  Quite  out  of  place  here.  Re- 
member this,  please,  Miss  Wilmer." 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

"  And  if  you  could  arrange  your  hair  more  closely,  it  might 
not  be  in  the  way." 

"  Certainly,  Dr.  Marbury." 

Dr.  Joyce  discerned  no  change  in  her  expression,  but,  on 
his  senior's  departure,  he  felt  impelled  to  say :  "  Dr.  Marbury  is 
sometimes  a  little  abrupt;  but  you  need  not  mind  that." 

"  I  do  not." 

"  You  look  tired,  however." 

She  hesitated;  but  touched  by  his  tone  of  friendly  interest, 


366  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  [June, 

she  said  with  a  new  confidence :  "  It  is  only  that  I  have  been 
up  for  several  nights  with  my  mother.  She  is  not  strong,  and 
she  is  all  I  have.  Then  I  cannot  rest  much,  for  in  the  daytime 
my  kiln  keeps  me  busy  when  I  am  not  here." 

"  You  are  devoted  to  your  art?" 

"Art!  Oh,  that  is  a  great  word.  But,  after  all,  ceramics 
have  been  interwoven  in  every  stage  of  civilization.  I  try  my 
hand  at  my  own  designing,  and  most  days  are  too  short." 

"  A  kiln  calls  for  night  watching,  too.  You  must  not  burn 
the  candle  at  both  ends." 

"  Why  not?  "  with  a  little  note  of  gayety  evoked  by  unwonted 
kindliness.  When  the  light  burns  for  someone  precious,  it  cannot 
be  better  consumed.  And  then — good-night !  " 

The  gaze  wistful,  but  perfectly  brave,  gave  him  a  sudden  pang. 
She  was  pinning  her  hat  on  the  profusion  of  hair  which  had  won  her 
a  rebuke.  He  called  her  back :  "  One  moment.  You  are,  as  I  may 
say,  of  our  professional  household  here,  and  therefore  entitled  to 
such  wisdom  as  I  dare  claim.  You  will,  I  hope,  call  on  me  freely 
at  any  time  for  your  mother." 

"  How  good  you  are !  I  am  rather  ashamed  of  my  lack  of 
confidence  in  her  present  adviser.  If  it  should  deepen — " 

She  was  gone,  leaving  him  to  ponder  some  of  her  words  as  he 
sped  down  town.  His  dark-green  electric  was  now  a  familiar 
object  in  Flint  Street,  and  such  was  the  denizens'  pride  in  it  and 
him,  that  woe  would  have  betided  any  mischievous  arab  of  them 
all  who  should  have  injured  it  when  left  standing.  He  ended  his 
round,  as  usual,  with  Aristide  Remy,  always  weaker  and  more 
suffering,  but  ever  with  the  faint  smile  in  witness  of  comfort  and 
pleasure  this  true  friend's  presence  bestowed. 

"  I  have  seen  the  priest  you  sent,"  he  began,  with  a  whim- 
sical glance.  "  Little  Sandy  brought  him,  according  to  your  orders. 
Does  that  mean  the  end  is  near?  " 

"  The  end — for  me,  for  you-; — for  us  all  is  in  God's  hands. 
But,  yes,  it  is  likely  He  may  call  you  soon;  and  you  told  me  you 
were  once  a  practical  Catholic." 

"  That  was  many  years  ago.  I  was  so  angry  when  ill-health 
struck  me  down,  just  as  I  meant  to  make  my  fortune,  that  I  prayed 
no  more.  At  Limoges,  where  I  learned  my  art,  and  found  the 
secret,  I  was  once  an  altar  boy,  and  used  to  say  the  rosary  every 
day  with  the  pious  mother.  Ah,  well,  I  am  very  tired,  now.  And 
that  Father  Reilly  is  a  good  little  man;  and  works  among  the  sick 
souls,  they  say,  as  you  do  among  the  bodies.  And  he  is  trying  to 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  367 

send  me  back  to  the  Lord,  a  little  nearer  to  what  I  was  when  I  came 
from  Him.  To  you,  my  good  doctor,  I  am  leaving  what  I  had  no 
health  or  capital  for — the  secret  which  I  discovered  by  accident, 
pottering  away  in  the  Limoges  furnace.  It  is  a  formula  for  such 
crystal  as  only  old  Egypt  knew — a  knowledge  long  buried.  But 
you,  my  friend,  my  good,  good  friend,  shall  profit  by  it  if  I  could 
not.  It  holds  all  the  rainbow's  colors,  and  is  tough,  tough,  so  that 
one  can  hardly  break  it."  He  pressed  into  the  physician's  hand 
some  sheets  of  paper  taken  from  under  his  pillow.  '  You  will 
reap  fortune  from  this,  and  use  it  well  I  know,  and  think  sometimes 
of  your  poor  Aristide." 

"  I  will  value  it,"  said  the  doctor  gravely,  "  but  now  you  must 
take  this  and  rest.  I  have  engaged  Sandy  to  wait  on  you." 

Some  days  later  Father  Reilly  meeting  him,  mentioned  the 
potter's  death.  "  Quite  peaceful,"  he  said.  "  I  was  with  him  by 
means  of  Sandy.  I  hear,  through  my  French  colony  here,  that 
he  was  accounted  quite  an  artist  in  his  native  Limoges.  Original 
in  his  designs,  and  always  experimenting,  with  every  qualification 
for  success,  but  health,  poor  fellow !  May  God  be  good  to  him !  " 

Thinking  of  the  young  potter's  early  death  while,  with  Dr. 
Marbury,  he  was  returning  from  the  bedside  of  a  little  child  also 
passed  away  at  the  hospital,  the  lines :  "  Out,  out,  brief  candle," 
were  murmured  unconsciously. 

"  Just  so,"  said  the  other,  dryly.  "  A  puff  of  wind,  and  out 
we  go  into  dark  nothingness.  So,  it  behooves  us  to  conserve  and 
exploit  our  time,  talent,  energy,  that  worldly  success,  which  is  all 
there  is,  may  be  ours." 

"  I  hold  a  different  faith,"  said  Dr.  Joyce,  steadily.  "  The 
light  extinguished  here  may  be  rekindled  elsewhere,  to  burn  more 
purely,  brightly,  and  eternally." 

"  My  dear  Joyce !  "  in  satiric  amazement ;  then  raising  his 
eyebrows :  "  But  we  need  not  discuss  fatalities.  I  have  been  wish- 
ing to  remonstrate  with  you  on  the  way  you  squander  yourself  in 
obscure  corners  during  hours  when  you  might  be  acquiring  fame 
and,  incidentally,  money.  Also,"  deliberately,  "  when  you  might  be 
of  service  to  me." 

'  You  will  remember  when  I  was  honored  by  your  invitation, 
that  I  stipulated  for  certain  free  hours." 

'  Yes,  yes.  I  simply  point  out  that  in  this  pauper  practice, 
easily  delegated  to  inferior  practitioners,  there  is,  what  I  abhor, 
a  waste  of  good  material." 

The  two  men's  voices  reached  through  the  open  door  to  where 


368  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  [June, 

Constance  stood,  and  as  Dr.  Marbury  passed  her,  she  felt  the  intent, 
masterful  gaze,  lately  more  frequent,  from  which  she  shrank  in- 
teriorly. It  was  a  relief  to  have  Dr.  Joyce's  somewhat  abstracted 
greeting,  and  inquiry  for  her  mother. 

"  Not  so  much  improved  as  I  had  hoped.  If  she  does  not 
seem  better  to-morrow,  I  had  thought — " 

"  Send  for  me  at  any  hour  available." 

But  when  a  telephone  message  came  next  morning  to  him, 
it  was  Dr.  Marbury  who  received  it,  and,  to  the  girl's  bewilderment, 
carefully  concealed,  responded  by  several  calls  during  the  next 
few  days. 

When  she  reappeared  at  her  post,  calm  and  self-possessed, 
Dr.  Joyce  said  to  her,  with  some  reproach :  "  Your  mother  is 
better?  I  am  so  glad,  but  I  had  hoped  that  my  offer — perhaps 
you  hesitated  to  hurt  your  former  attendant." 

"  It  was  Dr.  Marbury  who  came  on  my  telephoning.  I  couldn't 
understand.  But  must  admit  he  has  helped  her  wonderfully." 

"  Oh,  he  is,  of  course,  at  the  head." 

"  Yet,  I  should  rather  not  feel  under  an  obligation  to  him." 

His  heart  bounded  at  what  was  implied.  Then  he  remembered 
an  intention  put  aside  for  a  time.  "  By  the  way,  Miss  Wilmer," 
taking  some  papers  from  his  cabinet,  "  I  have  been  wanting  to 
show  you  this.  It  might  be  of  use  to  a  worker  in  porcelain.  It 
was  bequeathed  me  by  a  patient,  a  potter  of  artistic  skill  they 
say,  but,  of  course,  I  know  nothing  of  such  matters.  If  it  has 
any  value,  please  keep  it  and  use  it." 

She  came  to  him  later,  full  of  eager  interest.  "  Your  potter's 
formula  promises  largely — something  which  has  long  been  extinct 
in  ceramics,  claiming  to  be  the  wonderful  Rainbow  Crystal  of  the 
ancient  Egyptians;  of  most  beautiful  tints,  and  so  strong  it  can 
hardly  be  broken." 

"  Try  it  then,  by  all  means,"  he  smiled. 

It  was  difficult  to  secure  a  word  with  her  these  days,  for 
Dr.  Marbury  now  appeared  regularly  at  the  office,  and  occasionally 
at  her  mother's  apartments  as  well.  As  masterful  as  ever  in  manner 
towards  all  women,  he  was,  perhaps,  a  little  less  regardless  than 
formerly  of  her  well-being,  and  it  was  he  who  remarked  one  day: 
'  You  are  looking  pale  and  hollow-eyed,  Miss  Wilmer.  A  woman's 
bright  eyes  and  clear  skin  are  among  her  assets;  she  should  guard 
them.  Are  you  not  well  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,"  and  slipped  away  from  his  scrutiny 
to  encounter  one  solicitous  from  his  partner. 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  369 

That  afternoon,  as  the  two  physicians  came  from  a  consulta- 
tion in  the  older  physician's  motor,  her  name  was  introduced  by  Dr. 
Marbury.  "  Having  made  further  inquiry  concerning  our  assistant 
during  the  months  she  has  been  with  us ;  having  also  enlightened  my- 
self by  several  calls  upon  the  mother  and  daughter,  I  find  that  we 
were  wonderfully  fortunate  in  securing  a  lady  of  her  birth,  breeding, 
and  accomplishment.  Everything  in  their  modest  surroundings 
shows  traditional  culture  and  refinement.  The  mother  is  an  older 
edition  of  the  daughter;  and — the  daughter  is  a  very  pretty  and 
charming  girl."  He  looked  from  the  window  of  the  car  for  a 
few  moments,  not  seeming  to  observe  his  junior's  silence.  Then  he 
resumed,  deliberately :  "  I  have  never  thought  much  about  marriage, 
neither  society  women  nor  our  professional  helpers  appealing  to  my 
taste.  But  when  one  grows  middle-aged,  the  four  walls  of  a  house, 
even  though  hung  with  art  treasures,  seem  a  bit  empty.  This," 
he  ended  with  his  ironic  smile,  "  should  enlist  the  interest  of  a 
man  of  your  great  poetic  sentiment,  who  cannot  himself  afford 
to  marry." 

The  next  hour  held  need  for  entire  concentration  on  critical 
illness  with  both ;  but  when  Dr.  Joyce  was  once  more  alone,  he  felt 
again  the  shock  he  had  experienced  in  the  motor.  Why  had  a 
man  of  Dr.  Marbury's  cold  and  inflexible  reserve,  as  to  his  personal 
feelings,  more  than  suggested  his  present  inclinations?  Was  it  to 
warn  off  one  in  whom  he  suspected  dawning  of  a  like  feeling?  A 
like  feeling !  No,  never  would  Norman  Joyce  admit  that  the  rever- 
ent admiration,  the  respectful  tenderness,  which  only  now  he  rec- 
ognized for  entire  devotion,  could  resemble  in  kind  that  which  a 
hard  and  avowed  materialist  might  entertain  for  any  woman.  He 
recalled  the  girl's  refined  loveliness,  her  grace,  her  sweet  voice, 
her  admirable  reticences,  and  felt  that  anything  short  of  the  highest 
recognition  was  profanation.  But  from  a  man  "  who  could  not 
afford  to  marry  "  —for  this  barbed  phrase  was  true  enough — with 
more  brilliant  place  and  opportunity  had  come  constantly  increasing 
expenses  in  every  way,  and  the  greater  income  hardly  sufficed. 
And  there  were  always  Dr.  Marbury's  name  and  wealth  to  tempt  a 
lonely  girl  of  no  means,  and  a  delicate  mother  to  care  for.  Dr. 
Marbury  himself  gained  a  certain  admiration  from  many  women, 
with  his  fine  face  and  bearing,  but,  somehow,  Norman  could  not 
associate  Constance's  spiritual  expression  with  these.  And  so  went 
the  sleepless  night. 

But  joy  came  with  the  morning,  which  brought  him  a  request 

VOL.   XCVII. — 24. 


370  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  [June, 

that  he  would  call  later  at  the  Wilmer  apartment.  Entering  here, 
for  the  first  time,  he  was  presented  to  the  little  mother,  and  greeted 
by  Constance  herself  with  a  scarcely  restrained  buoyancy. 

"  May  I  venture  to  say,"  he  asked,  "  that  you  are  looking 
radiant  after  an  eclipse  of  some  duration  ?  " 

"  I — I  had  been  working  and  watching  too  much ;  but  it  was 
the  fault  of  my  own  carelessness.  I  mislaid  in  some  way  the 
formula  for  the  Rainbow  Crystal,  and  had  to  trust  to  my  memory, 
which  was  treacherous,  and  kept  me  experimenting  and  experiment- 
ing. But,  at  last,  I  succeeded,  and  found  the  paper  the  same  day." 

"  I  must  tell  on  her,"  said  the  mother,  with  affected  severity. 
"  While  she  was  so  anxiously  experimenting,  she  took  but  four 
hours  sleep  in  the  twenty-four." 

"  Then,"  said  the  doctor,  with  real  severity,  "  she  was  very 
wrong,  and  must  never  do  so  again." 

But  the  girl,  unheeding  both,  came  back  from  an  inner  room, 
her  cheeks  rosy  and  eyes  sparkling,  and  in  her  hand  a  tiny  vase 
of  exquisite  form  and  lovely  hues.  He  exclaimed  aloud  when  she 
dropped  it  on  the  bare  floor. 

"It  is  not  even  cracked!"  she  showed  him,  triumphantly. 
"  The  Rainbow  Crystal  is  an  assured  thing.  I  choose  to  find  it 
symbolical.  It  gathers  in  the  beauty  and  color  of  life  about  it, 
yet  is  transparently  pure  and  clear,  and  can  withstand  the  blows 
of  fate." 

"  And  what  next?  "  he  asked  smilingly. 

"  Next — I  know  you,  too,  are  a  Catholic — next,  a  Mass  of 
thanksgiving.  Then  " — with  a  pretty  pose  of  the  stern  business 
woman — "  to  market  our  wares." 

"Our  wares?" 

"  Certainly,"  opening  wide  the  blue  eyes.     "  How  else?  " 

"  I  shall  end  by  fancying  myself  a  potential  Benvenuto  Cellini !" 

"  Let  us  hope  " — radiantly — "  that  we  shall  not  be  driven  to 
his  expedient  of  melting  everything  fusible  in  the  house  to  keep 
the  furnace  going." 

This  was  a  Constance  Wilmer  he  had  not  before  seen.  The 
youth  in  her,  long  repressed  by  harsh  circumstances,  had  given  place 
to  the  flow  and  sparkle  of  hopefulness;  and  he  almost  lost  the  sense 
of  her  words  in  his  admiration. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  rising,  "  as  physician  I  prohibit  any  more 
nights  of  watching.  As — friend,  since  I  have  drawn  you  into  this 
matter,  you  will  permit  me  to  advance — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  mother,  in  quick  protest,  "  that  will  be 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  371 

arranged  between  Constance  and  the  jewellers  and  others.  She 
has  not  told  you  that  already  she  is  negotiating — " 

"  Wait,  wait,  mother !  That  will  come  later,"  gaily,  "  as  a 
surprise." 

"  Well,  but  I  will  thank  Dr.  Joyce  now,"  with  quiet  dignity, 
"  for  the  courtesy  and  great  consideration  which  have  softened 
for  you  a  position  which  might  easily  become  trying." 

"  Such  women  must,"  he  reflected  afterwards,  "  have  been  in 
severe  straits  to  have  urged  Constance  to  the  application  for  a 
place  in  the  office."  Apart  from  its  daily  painful  and  unpleasant 
tasks,  there  was  always  Dr.  Marbury.  His  exacting  attitude  at 
first  must  have  been  more  bearable  than  his  later  cynic  interest, 
and  final  approving  masterfulness.  Could  so  sweet  and  fine  a  nature 
be  so  won;  or  had  she  yet  failed  to  understand?  Women  were 
sometimes  unaccountable. 

He  had  not  much  longer  to  torment  himself,  for  soon  the  es- 
sential, long-slumbering  difference  between  the  partners  came  to 
a  decisive  issue. 

"  I  find,"  said  Dr.  Marbury,  coldly,  "  that  one  of  your  pauper 
patients,  just  dead,  presented  in  his  case  features  of  rare  and  un- 
common interest.  He  should  have  been  of  value,  living,  for  clinic 
and  operation." 

"  He  should,"  returned  Dr.  Joyce,  "  but  for  the  fact  that  he 
clung  to  the  privacy  of  his  humble  room,  which  efforts  of  his 
family  and  friends  preserved  for  him.  The  end  was  inevitable." 

]( Yes,  yes,  certainly,  with  that  trouble.  But  when  science 
chooses  to  interest  itself,  I  have  small  patience  with  the  prejudice 
which  blocks  it.  Such  people  have  no  right  to  whims." 

"  The  spirit,"  said  Dr.  Joyce,  slowly,  "  is  surely  master  of 
the  house  of  clay  which  it  tenants." 

Dr.  Marbury  resumed  his  cool  impassiveness.  "With  due 
appreciation  of  your  talent  and  skill,  Dr.  Joyce,  there  seems  to 
me  a  strain  of  sentimental  weakness  in  your  make-up  which — " 

"  I  owe  you  thanks  for  your  appreciation,  Dr.  Marbury.  But, 
as  you  say,  we  differ  so  widely  on  certain  subjects — "  An  interrup- 
tion came  here;  but  afterwards  their  parting  was  arranged,  ami- 
cably enough,  but  always  with  the  sense  of  hidden  discord.  The 
younger  man  was  naturally  unsettled.  "  Here  is  a  promising 
chapter  closed,"  he  thought,  and  wondered  how  Constance  might 
regard  it.  Finally  his  restlessness  drove  him  that  afternoon  to 
the  Wilmer  apartment.  He  found  the  girl  making  tea  for  her 


372  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  [June, 

mother;  and  the  little  table  and  shining  utensils,  the  fire  glow,  the 
cosiness,  appealed  to  his  latent  domesticity.  Most  of  all,  her  frank 
and  friendly  welcome  relieved  a  certain  discouragement. 

"  You  must  take  this  chair,  it  is  the  most  comfortable.  And 
this  cup,  it  is  the  prettiest." 

"  Here  is  royal  reception  for  one  lord  of  his  name,  and  not 
much  besides." 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly ;  and  having  decided  to  make 
his  position  quite  clear  to  these,  he  explained,  and  ended  jestingly : 
"  I  think  of  returning  to  Flint  Street  and  Mrs.  Rafferty.  For  I 
am,  materially,  about  where  I  was  when  I  joined  Dr.  Marbury; 
and  I  have  a  horror  of  debt." 

"  Yes,"  said  Constance,  abstractedly,  who  had  grown  very 
quiet  and  thoughtful  during  the  recital. 

He  sighed  when  he  left  them,  reflecting  that  many  such  calls 
must  be  unwise  and  forbidden.  Perhaps  Dr.  Marbury  was  already 
Constance's  permitted  suitor,  for  the  surgeon's  opportunity  was 
now  daily.  Yet  when  he  entered  the  inner  office  for  a  farewell 
word,  the  two  were  alone  together,  but  not  in  bearing  friends. 
There  was  rather  a  scornful  light  in  the  girl's  eyes  and  an  indignant 
flush  on  her  cheek,  "thanking  you,  always,  for  the  compliment," 
she  was  ending. 

"  Since  you  have  heard  so  much,"  said  Dr.  Marbury,  when 
he  would  have  retreated,  "  I  will  ask  you  to  remain.  Miss  Wilmer 
has  just  tendered  her  resignation,  and  I  should  like  to  inquire  if 
it  is  in  consequence  of  the  compliment  of  which  she  speaks." 

"  Not  entirely.     I  have,  for  some  time,  had  it  in  view." 

"  I  am  glad,"  ironically,  "  that  your  altered  circumstances — 
this  is  a  presumption — permit  it.  But  being  of  the  analytic  habit, 
in  favor  of  carrying  every  experiment  to  its  logical  conclusion, 
would  you  mind  telling  me  if  your  refusal  to  preside  over  my  es- 
tablishment in  such  affluence  as  my  poor  skill  permits  me  to  offer 
a  wife,  had  its  origin  in  a  leaning  towards  anyone  of  lesser  place — " 

The  girl's  cheeks  flamed  again,  but  he  proceeded :  "  If  so, 
I  warn  you  both  that  your  present  existence  of  struggle  and 
hardship  would  be  made  worse,  and  even  dragged  down  to  condi- 
tions not  short  of  squalor.  For  the  support  of  my  name  and  good 
word  being  withdrawn,"  he  paused,  significantly,  "  I  can  unmake 
as  easily  as  make,  and  a  little  dispraise  sown  here  and  there — "  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Take  time  to  think  this  over.  I  will 
not  consider  your  answer  final." 


1913.]  THE  RAINBOW  CRYSTAL  373 

"  The  threat  is  most  unworthy  of  you,  Dr.  Marbury,"  said 
Norman  Joyce.  "  Let  me  open  that  door,  Miss  Wilmer.  And, 
do,"  he  jested  to  remove  her  consciousness,  "  let  me  take  you 
home  in  the  electric,  this  once,  before  I  pawn  it." 

"  How  worthless  are  brilliant  achievements  and  impressive 
personality,"  she  said,  presently,  "  when  joined  to  a  hard  material- 
ism !  His  one  god  is  success.  When  I  have  seen  you  two  together 
those  lines  have  come  to  me  about  being  unequally  yoked  with 
unbelievers."  At  her  door,  she  said  to  him,  sweetly :  "  You  will 
come  in,  please."  Any  embarrassment  born  of  the  late  interview 
was  swallowed  up  in  a  more  engrossing  thought :  "  I  have  been 
waiting  to  tell  you  of  the  great,  good  luck — the  grand  success  of  our 
Rainbow  Crystal!  The  art  stores  and  jewellers  in  all  the  great 
cities  are  enthusiastic.  They  tell  me  there  is  a  fortune  in  it 
Orders  are  pouring  in.  And  the  prices  they  are  willing  to  pay! 
You  are  a  prospective  millionaire. 

"I?" 

"  Certainly.  The  secret  is  yours.  I  am  simply  your  artist 
and  a  part.  You  shall  assign  me  what  you  think  fair." 

"  My  dearest — friend !  When  I  give  anything,  I  give  it. 
What  sort  of  unscrupulous  donor  do  you  think  me?" 

"  Then  I  return  the  gift,  and  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  And  your  engagements  with  the  merchants  ?  You  cannot," 
with  pretended  seriousness,  "  forfeit  your  business  honor." 

She  faced  him  with  a  resolution  he  felt  to  be  unalterable. 
"  Nothing  on  earth  shall  tempt  me  to  retain  the  whole  profit  of 
what  should  be  yours." 

"  It  was  a  free  gift  to  you." 

:<  Which  I  now  restore." 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  began;  then  his  playfulness  fell  from  him, 
and  he  grew  a  little  pale.  "  There  is  one  condition,"  he  said,  slowly, 
"  on  which  I  will,  in  a  sense,  resume  possession  of  my  art  secret. 
That  the  artist  gives  me  herself  as  well!" 

Their  eyes  met.     "  Then  take  us  both,"  she  whispered. 

After  a  while  he  said :  "  My  wildest  hope  was  to  be  permitted 
to  work  for  your  beloved  companionship  later.  But  what  a  wonder- 
ful thing  if  it  should  come  soon;  and  all  through  the  Rainbow 
Crystal  of  Aristide  Remy !  " 

Her  mother,  entering,  caught  only  this  name :  "  God  rest  his 
soul,"  she  said. 


BERGSON  AND  FINALISM. 

BY   THOMAS   J.    GERRARD. 

NE  of  the  characteristics  of  the  time-spirit  is  that  its 
consciousness  is  centred  on  means  without  refer- 
ence to  their  end. 

M.  Bergson's  doctrine  of  finalism  panders  to 
this  abuse.  We  do  not  say  it  was  designed  for 
this  purpose.  But  we  do  say  that  it  is  the  natural  outcome  of  his 
anti-intellectualism,  which  is  but  the  formulation  of  the  time-spirit's 
disinclination  to  reflect. 

The  evolutionary  progress,  such  as  we  have  previously  de- 
scribed, is  taken  for  granted  by  M.  Bergson.  But  both  mechanism 
and  finalism  have  failed  to  interpret  the  history  of  evolution  to  his 
satisfaction,  because  neither  has  taken  into  account  the  fact  that  the 
process  is  a  flux  incapable  of  intellectual  representation.  In  the 
finalist  explanation  M.  Bergson  finds  just  a  grain  of  truth: 

We  try  on  the  evolutionary  progress  [he  says]  two  ready- 
made  garments  that  our  understanding  puts  at  our  disposal, 
mechanism  and  finality;  we  show  that  they  do  not  fit,  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other,  but  that  one  of  them  might  be  re-cut  and 
re-sewn,  and  in  this  new  form  fit  less  badly  than  the  other.* 

The  mechanistic  philosophy  is  to  be  taken  or  left:  it 

must  be  left  if  the  least  grain  of  dust,  by  straying  from  the 
path  foreseen  by  mechanics,  should  show  the  slightest  trace  of 
spontaneity.f 

But  spontaneity  is  observable  everywhere.  The  comparison 
of  the  human  eye  with  that  of  the  pecten  (commonly  known  as 
the  scallop)  is  a  most  marvelous  and  conclusive  proof  that  these 
organs  have  not  been  formed  by  the  mechanical  exigencies  of  en- 
vironment. 

In  a  totally  different  environment  the  coordination  of  the 
extremely  complex  structure  of  the  eye  has  been  as  perfectly^ 
accomplished  in  the  mollusc  as  in  man.  Mechanism  might  account 
for  the  construction  of  one  of  its  infinitestimal  parts,  but  it  throws 
no  li^ht  whatever  on  their  wondrous  coordination. 

^Creative    Evolution,    pp.    xiv.    and    xv.  f/fetd.,  p.  42. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  375 

The  rejection  of  mechanism,  however,  involves  the  acceptation 
of  some  sort  of  finalism.  So  M.  Bergson  admits  the  necessity 
of  some  kind  of  direction  over  and  above  that  of  individual  effort 
in  order  to  account  for  variation. 

If  the  accidental  variations  that  bring  about  evolution  are 
insensible  variations,  some  good  genius  must  be  appealed  to — 
the  genius  of  the  future  species — in  order  to  preserve  and 
accumulate  these  variations,  for  selection  will  not  look  after 
this.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  accidental  variations  are  sud- 
den, then,  for  the  previous  function  to  go  on,  or  for  a  new  func- 
tion to  take  its  place,  all  the  changes  that  have  happened  together 
must  be  complementary.  So  we  have  to  fall  back  on  the  good 
genius  again,  this  time  to  obtain  the  convergence  of  simultaneous 
changes,  as  before  to  be  assured  of  the  continuity  of  direction 
of  successive  variations.* 

Naturally  we  ask  who  this  good  genius  may  be,  and  we  are 
referred  to  our  old  friend — the  vital  effort. 

An  effort  common  to  most  representatives  of  the  same  species, 
inherent  in  the  germs  they  bear  rather  than  in  their  substance 
alone,  an  effort  thereby  assured  of  being  passed  on  to  their 
descendants.  So  we  come  back,  by  a  somewhat  roundabout 
way,  to  the  idea  we  started  from,  that  of  an  original  impetus 
of  life,  passing  from  one  generation  of  germs  to  the  following 
generation  of  germs  through  the  developed  organisms  which 
bridge  the  interval  between  the  generations.! 

This  vital  impulse  gnaws  into  the  future,  sometimes  creating 
more  and  more  complex  forms,  and  rising  to  higher  and  higher 
destinies,  sometimes  resting  not  merely  for  years  or  centuries,  but 
for  whole  geological  periods. 

M.  Bergson  may  call  his  vital  impulse  a  good  genius  or  any- 
thing else  he  likes.  If  it  is  able  to  create  the  various  species  ranging 
from  the  amoeba  up  to  man,  and  if  it  is  able  to  abstain  from  creating 
and  to  rest,  as  in  the  Lingulse,  for  aeons  of  time,  then  it  must  know 
something  about  the  making  of  plans. 

Why  then  does  he  object  to  finalism?  He  is  obsessed  by  his 
singular  views  on  the  nature  and  function  of  time.  If  there  be  such 
a  thing  as  a  plan  according  to  which  the  universe  moves,  then  there 
is  no  use  for  time.  There  are  no  new  forms  for  it  to  create,  for 

*Creative  Evolution,  p.   72.  Mbld.,  p.   92. 


376  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  [June, 

practically  everything  has  been  created.  If  the  plan  is  given  to 
begin  with,  then  teleology  is  but  mechanism  inverted.  The  only 
difference  being  that  finalism  puts  our  supposed  guiding  light  in 
front  of  us,  whilst  mechanism  puts  it  behind  us.  One  acts  as  an 
attraction,  whilst  the  other  acts  as  an  impulsion.  If,  however,  we 
must  accept  some  sort  of  finalism,  and  yet  not  that  which  supposes 
a  general  plan  conceived  and  willed  beforehand,  what  sort  of  final- 
ism  does  M.  Bergson  propose  ? 

His  thesis  may  be  stated  as  follows :  The  vital  impulse  which 
carries  on  the  evolutionary  process  starts  off  without  any  prelim- 
inary plan.  In  the  effort  of  ascending  life  to  overcome  descending 
matter,  certain  problems  present  themselves.  The  vital  impulse 
freely  resolves  each  problem  in  turn  by  creating  absolutely  new 
forms,  forms  so  absolutely  new  that  they  could  not  have  been 
foreseen  even  by  an  infinite  intellect. 

This  thesis  has  a  certain  vagueness.  We  are  not  told  whether 
the  problems  present  themselves  in  intelligible  terms  or  in  unin- 
telligible mist.  The  supposed  clash  between  life  and  matter  might 
conceivably  produce  smoke. 

M.  Bergson's  first  reason  for  the  rejection  of  a  preliminary 
general  plan  is  that  it  is  too  anthropomorphic,  too  much  at  variance 
with  the  observed  operations  of  nature.  The  labor  of  nature  is  not 
like  that  of  a  workman  who  chooses  first  a  piece  from  here  and 
then  a  piece  from  there,  and  eventually  puts  all  together  according 
to  a  preconceived  idea,  plan  or  model.  "  Life  does  not  proceed  by 
the  association  and  addition  of  elements,  but  by  dissociation  and 
division."*  The  process  referred  to  is,  of  course,  the  well-known 
method  of  cell  division. 

In  reply  to  M.  Bergson's  argument,  we  would  point  out  that  the 
organism  of  a  cell  is  an  organism.  It  has  been  organized.  It  con- 
tains definite  potentialities.  The  potentialities  must  first  have  been 
put  into  it  before  they  can  actualize  out,  and  when  they  begin  to 
actualize  out  they  do  so  on  a  plan  which  can  be  foreseen  with  infal- 
lible certitude.  The  embryonic  cell  of  a  horse  will  not  sub-divide 
into  a  cow.  Nor  will  bantam  eggs  plan  out  into  ducklings.  All 
this  is  conclusive  proof  of  a  prearranged  and  foreseeable  plan. 

Moreover,  even  in  the  matter  of  choice  of  material,  M.  Berg- 
son's comparison  of  nature  with  a  workman  tells  in  favor  of  final- 
ism  in  its  complete  sense.  Before  life  can  proceed  by  dissociation 
and  division,  it  must  first  proceed  by  association  and  addition  of 

* Creative  Evolution,  p.  94.     Italics  are  M.  Bergson's. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  377 

elements.  Before  the  mother  cell  can  make  even  one  single  division, 
it  must  assimilate  its  distinctive  food  and  nutrition. 

Such  power  of  assimilation  implies  a  prearranged  plan.  The 
results  too  are  foreseeable.  I  know  with  infallible  certitude  that 
if  men  breathe  nothing  but  carbonic  acid  gas,  and  that  if  plants 
breathe  nothing  but  pure  oxygen,  all  will  surely  die.  The  plan 
conceived  in  advance  must  be  followed  if  life  is  to  have  a  fruitful 
issue. 

Again,  argues  M.  Bergson,  if  the  course  of  nature  is  nothing 
more  than  a  plan  in  course  of  realization,  then  the  future  is  closed. 
But  in  the  evolution  of  life  the  portals  must  remain  wide  open, 
else  there  will  be  no  opportunity  for  the  creation  of  new  forms. 
The  unity  of  life  is  found  solely  in  the  impetus  that  pushes  it 
along  the  road  of  time. 

This  movement  constitutes  the  unity  of  the  organized  world 
— a  prolific  unity,  of  an  infinite  richness,  superior  to  any  that 
the  intellect  could  dream  of,  for  the  intellect  is  only  one  of  its 
aspects  or  products.* 

Let  us  freely  admit  that  the  future  is  closed  whilst  the  plan 
is  being  realized.  But  what  about  the  future  before  the  plan  began 
its  realization?  And  what  about  the  future  after  the  plan  is 
realized?  Surely  the  portals  have  been  and  will  be  wide  open. 
It  is  only  the  immediate  future  that  is  closed  so  that  the  world 
may  be  carried  on  intelligently. 

When  a  carpenter  begins  to  make  a  chair,  he  usually  intends 
to  finish  it.  If  he  decided  to  leave  the  future  open  so  that  he 
might  be  always  creating  new  forms,  he  would  never  get  any 
further. 

Nor  could  nature  keep  the  future  open.  Suppose  the  future 
were  not  closed  to  a  bantam  egg.  Suppose  the  embryo  began 
by  evolving  towards  a  bantam,  then  changed  its  future  to  a  duck- 
ling, then  after  two  weeks  incubation  thought  of  becoming  a  kitten, 
and  finally  decided  to  be  a  puppy,  what  a  funny  thing  it  would  look 
when  it  was  born! 

No.  Both  nature  and  art  require  a  definite  plan  foreseeable 
and  foreseen.  And  what  is  true  of  the  transformation  of  parts  of 
the  universe  is  true  also  of  the  whole.  Certainly  a  human  intellect 
cannot  see  the  correlation  of  all  the  parts,  but  the  intellect  of  the 
Creator  can.  The  God  Who  transcends  nature  lives  in  eternity. 
With  Him  there  is  one  eternal  present.  It  is  not  strictly  correct 

^Creative  Evolution,  p.   no. 


378  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  [June, 

to  speak  of  God  forseeing  things.  By  one  single  intuition  He  sees 
directly  that  which  to  us  is  past,  present,  and  future.  He  sees 
at  once  both  the  proximate  end  and  the  final  end  of  every  creature. 
There  can  be  no  system  of  evolution  at  all  intelligible  which 
does  not  involve  finalism  right  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 
When  the  initial  impulse,  postulated  by  M.  Bergson,  first  started  off, 
either  it  did  so  in  a  definite  direction  or  it  did  not.  If  it  had  a 
definite  direction  it  had  a  goal.  If  it  had  no  direction,  it  never 
started.  Whichever  way  you  take  it,  you  must  either  go  some- 
where or  stay  where  you  are.  To  start  off  for  nowhere,  as  Berg- 
sonian  philosophy  teaches,  is  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

Further,  a  theory  of  proximate  ends  implies  a  theory  of  an 
ultimate  end.  Let  us  grant  for  a  moment  that  the  semi-finalism 
proposed  by  M.  Bergson  is  coherent.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  vital 
impulse  can  create  both  ideas  and  forms  for  its  immediate  needs 
without  reference  to  any  exemplar.  Even  so  there  is  required  an 
ultimate  and  complete  finalism  in  order  to  give  meaning  to  the 
proximate  semi-finalism  which  we  have  supposed. 

The  doctrine  of  semi-finalism  declares  that  the  vital  impulse 
solves  particular  problems  according  to  the  measure  in  which  they 
present  themselves.  But  if  they  are  to  be  rightly  solved, 
they  must  be  solved  in  view  of  the  final  problem  of  which  they  are 
a  part  or  to  which  they  are  related.  Each  individual  problem 
which  presents  itself  directly  to  the  vital  impulse  leads  sooner 
or  later  to  the  ultimate  problem.  A  semi-finalism  is  meaningless 
without  a  complete  finalism. 

M.  Bergson  stumbles  into  this  incoherence  again  and  again. 
He  thrusts  out  the  general  plan  with  his  right  hand,  only  to  drag  it 
back  with  his  left.  Nor  does  his  right  hand  know  what  his  left 
hand  does. 

English  admirers  of  M.  Bergson,  men  who  have  been  attracted 
by  his  theories  of  change  and  intuition,  have  been  invariably 
brought  to  a  check  by  his  doctrine  of  finalism.  Our  philosopher- 
statesman,  Mr.  A.  J.  Balfour,  boggles  at  it.  Sir  Oliver  Lodge 
tries  to  explain  it  away.  But  in  doing  so  he  gives  away  the  whole 
case  to  finalism : 

Yet  there  is  clearly  an  aim  in  all  this,  and  life  is  always  sub- 
ject to  its  own  laws.  There  is  a  controlling  entity  in  a  seed 
whereby  the  same  product  results,  no  matter  amid  what  sur- 
roundings. If  an  acorn  can  grow  at  all,  an  oak  results.* 

*Hibbert  Journal,  January,   1912,  p.  306. 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  379 

But  this  principle  is  just  what  is  denied  in  the  process  of 
creative  evolution  by  M.  Bergson.  The  controlling  entity  does  not 
exist  beforehand,  but  is  created  to  meet  a  particular  problem  at  a 
particular  crisis.  The  concept  of  flowing  time  excludes  the  con- 
cept of  controlling  laws.  These  belong  to  the  artificial  sphere  of 
intellect,  not  to  the  vital  sphere  of  intuitive  vision.  Sir  Oliver 
may  be  true  to  the  facts  of  his  own  science,  but  he  is  not  true 
to  the  theories  of  M.  Bergson. 

Mr.  Balfour  would  seem  to  have  read  the  new  philosopher  with 
more  care.  He  sums  up  and  disposes  of  the  new  theory  of  finalism 
thus: 

But  why  should  he  banish  teleology?  In  his  philosophy  su- 
perconsciousness  is  so  indeterminate  that  it  is  not  permitted 
to  hamper  itself  with  any  purpose  more  definite  than  that  of 
self -augmentation.  It  is  ignorant  not  only  of  its  course,  but 
of  its  goal;  and  for  the  sufficient  reason  that,  in  M.  Bergson5  s 
view,  these  things  are  not  only  unknown  but  unknowable.  But 
is  there  not  a  certain  incongruity  between  the  substance  of  such 
a  philosophy  and  the  sentiments  associated  with  it  by  its  au- 
thor? Creation,  freedom,  will — these  doubtless  are  great 
things;  but  we  cannot  lastingly  admire  them  unless  we  know 
their  drift.  We  cannot,  I  submit,  rest  satisfied  with  what 
differs  so  little  from  the  haphazard;  joy  is  no  fitting  consequent 
of  efforts  which  are  so  nearly  aimless.  If  values  are  to  be 
taken  into  account,  it  is  surely  better  to  invoke  God  with  a 
purpose  than  supra-consciousness  with  none.* 

When  St.  Thomas  treats  of  this  question  of  finalism  he  pro- 
poses thus  the  identical  difficulty  of  M.  Bergson : 

It  would  seem  that  God  is  not  the  final  cause  of  all  things, 
for  to  act  on  account  of  an  end  would  seem  to  imply  that  the 
agent  was  in  need  of  something.  But  God  is  in  need  of  nothing. 
Therefore  He  does  not  act  for  the  sake  of  an  end.f 

And  in  answer  he  quotes  the  inspired  word :  "  The  Lord 
hath  made  all  things  for  Himself."!  This  he  takes  on  faith,  and 
then  sets  his  faith  to  seek  to  understand. 

Every  agent  acts  for  the  sake  of  an  end.  Otherwise  from 
any  given  action  neither  this  particular  thing  nor  that  would 

*Hibbert  Journal,  October,  1911,  p.  23. 
t.S«mma,  pars.  ia.,  qu.  xliv.,  a.  iv.,  diff.  i. 
tProv.  xvi.  4. 


380  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  [June, 

happen,  except  by  chance.  But  there  are  some  agents  which 
both  act  and  are  acted  upon.  These  are  imperfect  agents,  and 
whenever  they  act  they  must  intend  to  acquire  some  new 
perfection.  But  the  first  agent,  who  acts  only  and  is  not  acted 
upon,  does  not  act  for  the  sake  of  attaining  to  some  end,  but 
intends  only  to  communicate  His  own  perfection,  which  is  His 
own  goodness.  Thus,  therefore,  the  divine  goodness  is  the  end 
of  all  things.  Wherefore  to  act  on  account  of  a  need  is  but 
the  action  of  an  imperfect  agent,  which  is  made  to  act  and  to 
be  acted  upon.  But  this  is  not  so  with  God's  action.  So 
it  is  that  He  alone  is  supremely  generous,  for  He  does  not  act 
for  His  own  benefit,  but  merely  on  account  of  His  goodness. 

In  the  divine  goodness  then  we  must  seek  for  the  root  of  the 
divine  finalism.  He  Who  is  the  beginning  of  creatures  is  also  their 
end.  "  I  am  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega."  God  being  perfectly 
happy  in  Himself  could  not  desire  an  additional  perfection.  He 
could  only  desire  to  communicate  His  goodness  to  others.  Such 
communication  would  be  an  outward  imitation  of  His  own  intrinsic 
perfections.  God  Himself,  therefore,  is  the  plan  or  ideal  upon 
which  the  universe  was  formed. 

All  created  things  may  be  traced  to  their  first  principle,  the 
Divine  Wisdom  which  thought  out  the  order  of  the  universe.  In 
the  Divine  Wisdom  are  to  be  sought  the  reasons  of  all  things. 
The  ideas  which  are  their  exemplar  are  found  in  the  divine  Mind. 
But  as  there  can  only  be  one  infinite,  the  outward  representation 
of  the  divine  ideal  must  be  finite  and  inadequate.  Hence  each 
separate  creature  is  a  finite  likeness  of  the  infinite  divine  essence. 

A  prudent  man  is  one  who  has  a  good  memory  of  past  events, 
who  is  able  to  grasp  a  large  present  situation,  and  from  his  knowl- 
edge of  past  and  present  is  able  to  make  plans  against  future  con- 
tingencies. The  man  who  knows  the  first  principles  of  things, 
who  is  able  to  coordinate  his  principles  into  general  knowledge, 
and  who  can  apply  his  general  knowledge  for  the  attainment  of 
some  desirable  end  is  said  to  be  eminently  wise. 

But  God  can  do  all  these  things  with  one  thought  and  one 
volition.  He,  therefore,  is  supereminently  wise  and  prudent.  He, 
therefore,  can  and  does  exercise  a  providence  over  the  created  world, 
adapting  right  means  to  right  ends,  coordinating  and  subordinating 
all  proximate  and  intermediate  ends  to  the  one  final  end.  What  we 
understand  by  "prudence"  or  "wisdom"  or  "providence"  in 
man  is  realized  in  God  infinitely.  Hence  we  have  the  classic  defin- 


1913.]  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  381 

ition  of  divine  providence — ipsa  divina  ratio  in  summo  omnium 
principe  constituta,  qua  cuncta  disponit — the  all-regulating  and 
stable  plan  of  God,  the  supreme  Ruler  of  the  universe. 

Moreover,  the  God  Who  is  infinitely  perfect  is  unchangeable. 
Change  would  imply  the  acquisition  of  a  new  perfection.  Since, 
therefore,  God  is  unchangeable,  He  must  have  settled  from  all 
eternity  the  final  goal  to  which  all  His  creatures  should  be  directed. 

Again,  since  His  wisdom  existed  from  eternity,  He  must  from 
eternity  have  fixed  the  various  ways  by  which  these  creatures 
should  come  to  their  ultimate  end.  He  not  only  has  set  Himself 
a  plan,  but  He  also  has  applied  His  intelligence  and  will  to  the 
working  out  of  the  plan  in  such  a  way  that  nothing  shall  happen  to 
prevent  His  desire  from  being  realized. 

At  this  point  we  must  distinguish  carefully  between  that  which 
God  approves  and  that  which  for  good  reasons  He  merely  tolerates. 
He  approves  of  good  acts,  whilst  He  only  tolerates  or  permits 
bad  acts.  When  we  speak  of  God  tolerating  or  permitting  sin, 
we  do  not  mean  that  He  gives  permission  to  sin,  but  only  that  He 
does  not  hinder  the  creature  from  exercising  his  free  will  in  sinning. 
God  could  hinder  it,  but  does  not,  and  so  we  speak  of  Him  as 
tolerating  it.  With  this  distinction  before  our  minds,  we  are  able 
to  lay  down  the  principle  that  whatever  happens  in  the  world, 
happens  according  to  the  will  of  God,  positively  or  permissively. 

The  external  representation  of  divine  perfections  is  called  the 
external  glory  of  God.  His  internal  glory  can  be  known  to  none 
but  Himself.  In  so  far  as  creatures,  by  their  existence  and  activity, 
are  apt  to  manifest  some  divine  perfection,  they  are  said  to  render 
a  material  glory  to  God.  "  The  heavens  show  forth  the  glory  of 
God,  and  the  firmament  declareth  the  work  of  His  hands."  And 
when  intelligent  beings,  seeing  the  reflections  of  the  divine  perfec- 
tions in  creation,  acknowledge  them  in  thought,  word,  and  deed, 
then  they  are  said  to  render  formal  glory  to  God.  Thus  all  parts 
of  creation,  rational  and  irrational,  have  this  for  their  final  end: 
to  make  one  harmonious  hymn  of  praise  to  their  Creator. 

Hence  the  finalism  which  we  adopt  is  the  very  antithesis  of 
mechanism,  direct  or  inverted.  The  very  nature  of  the  ideal  and 
of  the  means  of  realizing  it  expressly  includes  the  operation  of 
free  will. 

In  the  first  place,  the  final  end  is  not  some  benefit  accruing 
to  the  Creator  of  which  He  stands  in  need.  God  is  the  object  of 
external  praise  and  glory.  He  chooses  to  receive  it,  however, 


382  BERGSON  AND  FINALISM  [June, 

because  it  implies  His  bounteousness,  His  spontaneity  in  giving 
of  His  treasure. 

Whatever  of  mechanism  there  is  in  the  universe,  it  is  intended 
to  be  at  the  service  of  the  rational  creation;  and  the  right  use 
of  it  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  man  renders  formal  praise  to  the 
Creator.  Thus  the  plan  supposes  that  some  intermediate  ends 
should  be  brought  about  by  contingent  causes  and  some  by  necessary 
causes. 

There  has  ever  been  a  tendency  in  certain  schools  to  look  upon 
this  action  of  God  moving  the  will  as  something  mechanical,  and 
savoring  of  determinism.  This  comes  about  through  an  abuse  of 
analogy.  The  divine  strength  does  not  come  from  ourselves.  It 
comes  from  God  Who  is  transcendent.  But  the  transcendent  God 
is  also  immanent.  The  power  and  particular  movement  which 
He  gives  to  our  wills,  therefore,  is  not  mechanical  and  superimposed 
from  without,  but  vital  and  communicated  from  within.  The  God 
Who  is  the  Life  of  life  is  the  energizing  principle  of  the  action. 

Thus  Christian  finalism  is  the  very  antithesis  of  the  doctrine  of 
man's  self-perfectibility.  The  whole  meaning  of  Alpha  and  Omega 
is  that  man  realizes  himself  most  by  depending  absolutely  on  God. 
Man  is  dependent  on  God  for  his  beginning,  for  his  continuation, 
and  for  his  end.  If  he  chooses  his  own  method  of  perfecting  him- 
self, following  only  such  goodness  as  attracts  his  sensual  appetites, 
he  will  most  assuredly  not  attain  to  independence.  If  he  does  not 
depend  on  God  willingly  as  a  vessel  of  mercy,  he  will  have  to  depend 
upon  Him  unwillingly  as  a  victim  of  justice.  "  I  call  heaven  and 
earth  to  witness  this  day,  that  I  have  set  before  you  life  and  death, 
blessing  and  cursing.  Choose  therefore  life."* 

Christian  finalism  may  be  summed  up  in  the  beautiful  words 
of  Lactantius :  "  The  world  was  made  that  we  might  be  born. 
We  were  born  that  we  might  know  God.  We  know  Him  that  we 
may  worship  Him.  We  worship  Him  that  we  may  earn  immortal- 
ity. We  are  rewarded  with  immortality  that,  being  made  like  unto 
the  angels,  we  may  serve  our  Father  and  Lord  forever,  and  be 
the  eternal  kingdom  of  God.''f 

*Deut.    xxx.    19.  Mnstit.,    vii.,    6. 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME. 


BY  W.   E.    CAMPBELL. 


VIII. 

ORE  was  now  fairly  launched  upon  his  political  and 
diplomatic  career,  but  without  a  general  idea  of  Eng- 
lish foreign  policy,  it  is  a  little  difficult  to  be  interested 
in  such  scanty  records  as  we  possess  of  his  share  in  it. 
Three  young  monarchs  of  unusual  ambition 
and  ability  were  contesting  for  the  palm  of  European  supremacy. 
Charles  V.  had  just  been  elected  Emperor;  Francis  I.  had  been  four 
years  King  of  France;  while  Henry  VIII.,  the  oldest  of  the  three, 
had  reigned  since  1509.  In  1518,  as  before  mentioned.  More  had 
been  a  signatory  to  a  treaty  of  Universal  Peace  with  France,  and 
two  days  later  to  a  treaty  of  marriage  between  the  Dauphin  and 
Princess  Mary.  This  arrangement  was  very  suitable  both  to  Henry 
and  Wolsey,  for  the  time  being,  as  it  brought  a  subsidy  to  the  one 
and  a  pension  to  the  other  from  the  French  exchequer.  But  there 
were  deeper  reasons  which,  in  the  event  of  war,  would  compel 
England  to  take  the  imperialist  side  against  France. 

Charles  V.  was  inclined  to  an  English  alliance,  for  England 
was  rich,  and  he  had  little  money  and  was  largely  in  debt;  he  de- 
pended on  the  free  use  of  the  Channel  for  his  voyages  from  Flan- 
ders to  Spain;  his  dominions,  though  extensive,  were  very  loosely 
united  by  ties  of  sentiment,  of  race,  and  of  position;  Flemings, 
Germans,  Spaniards,  and  Neopolitans  had  little  in  common;  in 
each  country  there  were  problems  which  promoted  instability  and 
called  for  grave  consideration,  while  his  authority  was  as  yet  un- 
established  and  his  mind  as  yet  uninformed.  He  needed,  in  fact, 
all  the  support  he  could  get  against  a  prosperous  and  united  France  ; 
an  alliance  with  England  was,  therefore,  a  matter  of  necessity. 

England,  for  her  part,  was  just  as  necessarily  favorable  to  an 
alliance  with  Charles  V.  His  claims  were  strongly  urged  by  his 
aunt,  Queen  Katherine,  and  by  all  the  Council,  with  the  exception 
of  Wolsey.  Not  only  was  this  the  case,  but  the  whole  country 
was  strongly  imperialist  in  sympathy,  and  that  for  the  best  of 
English  reasons  that  friendship  with  Charles  meant  prosperity  to 


384  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [June, 

English  trade.  War  with  him  would  bring  ruin  to  her  export  trade, 
since  he  controlled  the  wool  market  of  the  Netherlands.  Eight 
years  later,  Henry  did  declare  war  against  Charles  V.;  but  this 
course  of  action  made  him  so  unpopular  with  his  subjects,  that 
he  was  in  some  danger  of  losing  his  throne,  and  was  obliged  to 
conclude  a  peace  three  months  after  the  commencement  of  hostilities. 
At  any  rate,  in  1521,  such  a  war  was  out  of  the  question,  and 
for  the  next  two  years  the  chief  end  of  English  foreign  policy 
was  to  squeeze  money  out  of  France  without  the  slightest  ultimate 
intention  of  assisting  her  against  her  powerful  rival. 

On  November  10,  1518,  Queen  Katherine  gave  birth  to  a 
daughter,  a  great  disappointment  to  everyone  from  the  King  down- 
wards. It  was  feared,  too,  that  in  consequence  of  the  betrothal 
of  Princess  Mary  to  the  Dauphin,  the  English  crown  might  event- 
ually pass  into  the  power  of  France,  a  possibility  very  distasteful 
to  English  sentiment.  Francis  I.  was  therefore  very  anxious 
to  meet  Henry,  with  a  view  to  allaying  suspicion  and  cementing 
the  alliance.  Henry,  on  his  side,  was  willing  to  temporize,  but 
was  more  anxious  to  come  to  a  definite  understanding  with  Charles 
before  such  meeting  took  place.  In  January,  1520,  Wolsey  was 
commissioned  to  arrange  a  meeting  with  Francis;  but  not  until 
the  King  himself  had  written  to  Charles  a  pressing  invitation 
to  visit  England,  which  the  latter  accepted.  In  the  meanwhile,  the 
Bishop  of  Durham,  Tunstal,  Pace,  and  More  had  been  appointed 
to  negotiate  a  Treaty  of  Intercourse*  with  the  Emperor's  emissary 
at  Greenwich,  and  also  to  arrange  the  details  of  the  royal  meeting. 
Charles  V.  was  delayed  in  starting  from  Spain,  and  again  delayed 
on  his  voyage  by  contrary  winds,  so  that  he  did  not  reach  Dover 
till  May  26th,  the  eve  of  Pentecost.  More  writing  to  Erasmus 
from  Canterbury  on  the  same  day,  says  that  the  Emperor  is  ex- 
pected ;  that  the  King  will  set  out  to  meet  him  either  the  same  night 
or  on  the  following  morning,  and  that  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
delight  of  all,  even  the  country  people,  when  they  heard  that  the 
Emperor  was  on  his  way.f  On  his  arrival,  Charles  was  met  by 
Wolsey,  and  joined  by  the  King  on  the  following  morning,  Whit 
Sunday.  The  two  monarchs  set  out  in  company  to  Canterbury, 
where  they  found  the  Queen  writh  her  court,  this  being  the  first  op- 
portunity afforded  to  Katherine  of  seeing  her  imperial  nephew. 
On  May  3ist  the  Emperor  sailed  from  Sandwich  for  Flanders,  and 

^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iii.,  nos.  731-2,   740-1,  798.     The  treaty  was  ratified 
on  ft^ay  8th.  Wbid.,  no.  838. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  385 

on  the  same  day  the  King  crossed  to  Calais,  arriving  at  Guisnes, 
a  town  on  English  territory  fixed  for  the  meeting  between  himself 
and  Francis,  and  henceforward  to  be  known  as  "  The  Field  of  the 
Cloth  of  Gold." 

This  last  great  ceremonial  of  the  age  of  chivalry  must  have 
stirred  up  many  thoughts  and  memories  in  the  mind  of  More,  who 
occupied  a  prominent  place  among  the  retinue  of  Henry  VIII. 

We  who  live  in  times  still  tinged  with  the  sadness  and  parsi- 
mony of  Puritanism,  feel  an  almost  involuntary  protest  against 
such  extravagant  display,  more  especially  as  we  remember  the 
mutual  insincerity  of  the  high  contracting  parties.  But,  after  all, 
this  magnificence  was  something  more  than  a  cloak  for  royal  in- 
sincerities. England  was,  for  the  first  time  since  the  days  of 
Henry  V.,  proclaiming  her  place  and  power  among  the  great 
European  nations.  France,  she  would  have  it  understood,  with 
her  long  tradition  of  superiority  in  every  art  of  life  and  war, had  now 
an  equal,  if  not  a  superior.  "  For  the  time  being,"  writes  Brewer, 
"Wolsey  had  by  his  genius  raised  his  master  to  the  first  rank  and 
foremost  place  among  the  potentates  of  Christendom.  It  was  the 
purpose  of  this  interview  to  show  him  to  the  world,  surrounded 
by  all  the  accessories  to  which  the  imagination  of  nine-tenths  of 
mankind  at  that  time  lent  itself  a  willing  prisoner."  And  he  con- 
cluded rather  cynically,  "  Railway  scrip,  or  a  supposed  balance 
at  a  man's  bankers,  effects  that  now."  More  himself  must  have 
indulged  in  an  equally  cynical  mood  as  he  gazed  at  this  flat  and 
practical  contradiction  of  his  own  Utopian  ideals.  The  age  of 
chivalry  had  declined  to  an  age  of  childishness;  it  had  lost  its 
heroic  and  unselfish  touch,  had  become,  in  fact,  nothing  more 
than  a  splendid  make-believe,  a  ritual  signifying  nothing  but  inor- 
^dinate  vanity  and  calculated  intrigue.  More  was  too  full  of  human- 
ity to  despise  the  sincere  and  appropriate  ritual  to  a  great  occasion ; 
but  such  was  not  "  The  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold." 

On  June  24th  the  Kings  of  England  and  France  bade  each 
other  farewell,  Henry  returning  to  Calais.  On  July  loth  he  met 
the  Emperor  at  Gravelines,  and  returned  with  him  to  Calais,  where 
in  a  three  days'  interview  the  negotiations  commenced  at  Canter- 
bury were  completed.  For  reasons  already  given,  an  alliance  with 
the  Emperor  was  much  more  sincerely  desirable  than  an  alliance 
with  France ;  but  while  Henry  was  anxious  to  complete  the  under- 
standing without  delay,  Charles  had  weighty  reasons  for  a  slower 
procedure.  The  case  stood  thus  from  his  point  of  view.  The 

VOL.   XCVII. — 25. 


386  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [June, 

English  alliance  with  Francis  must  first  be  broken  off,  and  with  it 
the  marriage  contract  between  Princess  Mary  and  the  Dauphin. 
This  could  only  be  done  by  substituting  a  marriage  contract  between 
the  Princess  Mary  and  himself.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  per- 
sonally inclined  to  marry  the  Princess  Isabella  of  Portugal,  who 
would  bring  with  her  a  far  richer  dowry  than  her  English  rival. 
His  policy,  then,  was  to  promise  much  and  do  little,  hoping  at  last 
to  secure  not  only  a  firm  English  friendship,  but  also  the  hand  of 
the  Portuguese  princess  and  her  money  as  well. 

During  his  stay  at  Calais  with  the  English  Court,  More  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  many  literary  friends,  his  beloved  Erasmus 
among  them.  He  was  also  introduced  to  Francis  Crane  field,  a 
Councillor  of  the  Empire,  and  to  Budseus,  a  celebrated  Greek  scholar 
and  secretary  to  the  French  King,  with  whom  he  appears  to  have 
corresponded  for  some  time.  In  September  he  was  at  Bruges,  one 
of  an  expensive  and  dilatory  embassy  to  the  Hanse  Merchants. 
In  January,  1521,  he  is  already  acting  as  Under-Treasurer,  and 
Erasmus  mentions  the  fact,  though  not  quite  accurately,  when 
writing  to  Pace  and  Budaeus  a  few  months  later. 

Meanwhile,  the  Emperor  and  Francis  I.  were  again  at  war, 
and  Wolsey  crossed  to  Calais  with  the  ostensible  purpose  of  acting 
as  a  peacemaker  between  the  two  monarchs,  but  in  reality  to  throw 
his  influence  on  the  side  of  the  Emperor.  More  was  ordered  to 
join  him  as  soon  as  his  work  at  Bruges  was  finished,  and  on  July 
25th  Pace  writes  to  Wolsey  on  behalf  of  the  King,  "  that  whereas 
old  men  do  now  decay  greatly  within  this  his  realm,  his  mind  is 
to  acquaint  other  young  men  with  his  great  affairs,  and,  therefore, 
he  desireth  your  Grace  to  make  Sir  William  Sandys  and  Sir 
Thomas  More  privy  to  all  such  matters  as  your  Grace  shall  treat 
at  Calais." 

An  event  took  place  at  this  time  which  showed  the  true  nature 
and  trend  of  Tudor  rule.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham,  "  with 
manors,  castles,  parks,  stewardships  scattered  over  eleven  of  the 
best  counties  of  England,"  one  of  the  last  survivors  of  the  old 
great  landed  nobility  who  held  aloof  from  the  Court,  and  would 
not  bow  the  knee  to  Wolsey,  being  suspected  on  the  slenderest 
grounds  of  designs  on  the  throne,  was  prejudged  by  the  King  in 
Council,  summoned  before  his  peers,  by  them  condemned  of  high 
treason,  and  led  to  execution — all  within  a  few  days.  Such  deeds 
as  this  were  to  become  commonplace  within  a  very  few  years, 
buttnow  they  were  regarded  with  horror  not  only  in  England,  but 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  387 

throughout  the  continent.  More,  in  his  De  Quatuor  Novissimis, 
published  in  the  following  year,  evidently  refers  to  it  in  the  medita- 
tion on  Death. 

Under  the  date  of  May  8,  1522,  we  find  a  grant  to  Sir  Thomas 
More  of  the  manor  of  South  Kent,  a  property  formerly  in  the 
Duke's  possession.* 

One  of  Erasmus'  characteristic  letters  to  Budseus  written  at  this 
time,  gives  us  a  further  vivid  glimpse  into  More's  life.  "  He  is 
delighted,"  he  tells  his  correspondent,  "  to  have  met  so  many  of 
his  friends  at  Bruges  where  the  Emperor  and  the  Cardinal  were 
in  conference.  Tunstal,  More,  Mountjoy,  and  many  others  were 
there.  More  expected  that  Budseus  would  have  been  at  Calais  with 
the  French  embassy.  He  himself  had  hopes  that  Wolsey  by  his 
wisdom  and  authority  would  have  settled  the  differences  between 
the  Empire  and  France,  but  he  is  now  in  doubt  as  to  the  issue. 
He  speaks  of  More's  promotion  in  a  passage  quoted  above.  Un- 
married men,  he  says,  have  more  chance  at  Court  than  married 
ones,  but  More  is  so  wedded  to  wedlock  that  nothing  can  emanci- 
pate him.  He  has  three  daughters,  the  eldest,  whose  name  is  Mar- 
garet, is  just  married  to  a  young  man  (Roper)  of  good  fortune 
and  unspotted  morals,  and  with  an  inclination  to  learning.  More 
had  all  his  daughters  educated  from  their  infancy :  first  paying  great 
attention  to  their  morals,  and  then  to  their  learning.  He  brings 
up  another  girl  as  a  companion  to  his  daughters.  He  has  also  a 
stepdaughter  of  great  beauty  and  genius,  now, married  some  years 
to  a  young  man,  non  indocto,  sed  cujus  moribus  nihil  sit  magis 
aureum.  He  has  a  son  by  a  former  wife,- aged  thirteen,  the  young- 
est of  his  children.  He  ordered  them  a  year  ago  to  write  an 
essay  to  Erasmus  on  any  subject  they  liked  to  choose.  When  they 
showed  their  father  their  exercises,  all  he  did  was  to  have  them 
fairly  copied,  without  changing  a  syllable,  and  seal  and  send  them 
to  Erasmus,  who  greatly  admired  them.  They  read  Livy  and 

similar  authors Budaeus  complains  that  he  himself  has  brought 

a  scandal  upon  learning,  because  it  has  entailed  upon  him  two  evils — 
ill-health  and  ill-husbandry.  More,  on  the  other  hand,  produces 
the  opposite  impression.  He  says  that  his  health  is  better  for 
study,  and  that  he  has  more  influence  with  the  King,  more  popular- 
ity at  home  and  abroad,  is  more  pleasant  and  useful  to  his  friends 
and  his  relatives,  abler  for  business  and  politics  and  life  generally, 
and  more  thankful  (gratior)  to  heaven.  It  has  been  said  that 

^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iii.,  no.  2,239. 


388  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [June, 

learning  is  unfavorable  to  common  sense.  There  is  no  greater 
reader  than  More,  yet  you  will  not  find  a  man  who  is  a  more  com- 
plete master  of  his  faculties,  on  all  occasions  and  with  all  persons, 
more  accessible,  more  ready  to  oblige,  more  quick-witted  in  con- 
versation, or  combining  so  much  true  prudence  with  such  agreeable 
manners.  His  influence  has  been  such  that  there  is  scarcely 
a  nobleman  in  the  land  who  considers  his  children  fit  for  their 
rank  except  they  have  been  'well-educated,  and  learning  has  become 
fashionable  at  Court/' 

Then  follows  a  few  remarks  on  the  education  of  women,  which 
show  More  in  a  very  modern  light.  I  venture  to  recommend  it  to 
the  attention  of  all  those  who  think  learning  and  true  womanhood 
to  be  incompatible.  "  Erasmus  confesses  that  he  once  thought 
with  others  that  learning  was  useless  to  the  female  sex;  More  has 
quite  changed  that  opinion.  He  now  thinks  that  nothing  so  com- 
pletely preserves  modesty  or  so  sensibly  employs  the  thoughts  of 
young  girls  as  learning.  By  such  employments  they  are  kept  from 
pernicious  idleness,  imbibe  noble  precepts,  and  their  minds  are 

trained  to  virtue Nor  do  I  see  why  husbands  should  fear  lest 

a  learned  wife  should  be  less  obedient,  except  they  would  exact 
from  their  wives  what  should  not  be  exacted  from  honest  and  vir- 
tuous dames.  I  think  that  nothing  is  more  intractable  than  ignor- 
ance ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  similarity  of  tastes  and  literary 
inclinations  is  a  much  stronger  bond  of  union  between  husband 
and  wife  than  mere  sensual  affection."  Erasmus  has  heard  of 
women  who  returning  from  church  wonderfully  applauded  the 
preacher,  and  graphically  described  his  countenance,  but  could  not 
repeat  a  word  he  has  said  or  explain  the  course  of  his  argument. 
More's  daughters,  and  such  as  they,  can  form  an  opinion  on  what 
they  have  heard,  and  discriminate  between  the  good  and  the  bad. 
When  Erasmus  told  More  that  he  would  grieve  more  if  he  had 
lost  his  daughters  after  bestowing  so  much  care  upon  their  educa- 
tion, he  replied  he  would  rather  they  died  learned  than  unlearned. 
This  put  Erasmus  in  mind  of  Phocion's  answer  to  his  wife,  who 
lamented  that  her  husband  was  to  suffer  death  innocently.  "  Wife," 
said  he,  "  would  it  be  better  that  I  should  die  guilty?  "* 

In  the  May  of  1522  Charles  V.f  again  visited  England.  He 
was  received  with  great  ceremony,  and  More  was  choosen  to  wel- 
come him  to  London  in  a  Latin  speech.  More  was  evidently  in 

^Letters   and  Papers,   vol.   Hi.,   no.    1,527. 

ltHe  landed  at  Dover  on  May  27th.     On  May  2Qth  war  was  declared  against 
France. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  389 

close  attendance  upon  the  King  at  this  time,  for  we  find  an  instruc- 
tion from  the  King  to  the  effect  that  "  besides  Mr.  More  "  some 
personages  should  be  found  about  him,  both  noble  and  sage,  for  the 
entertainment  of  strangers.*  He  had  risen  steadily  in  favor  with 
Wolsey  as  well  as  with  the  King. 

We  now  come  to  the  year  1523.  England  was  at  war  with 
France  and  with  Scotland;  her  resources  were  taxed  beyond  quiet 
endurance,  and  yet  more  money  was  required.  It,  therefore,  be- 
came necessary,  after  an  interval  of  eight  years,  to  summon  a 
Parliament.  The  King  was  very  popular,  and  a  war  with  France 
only  tended  to  increase  his  popularity;  so  the  Parliament  met  in 
good  spirits  and  in  a  seemingly  complaisant  humor.  As  Brewer 
points  out,  it  brought  together  for  the  first  time  in  close  personal 
contact  Tres  Thomi,  three  Thomases,  who  of  themselves  made  the 
reign  remarkable,  though  in  remarkably  different  ways — Thomas 
Wolsey,  Thomas  More,  and  Thomas  Campbell.  It  was  further- 
more interesting  as  being  the  first  English  Parliament  of  which 
we  have  something  more  than  a  mere  official  account. 

The  House  assembled  on  the  I5th  of  April,  a  Mass  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  was  sung,  the  Lords  attending  in  state.  The  King  then 
entered  the  Parliament  chamber,  and  took  his  seat  upon  the  throne, 
while  Cardinal  Wolsey  and  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  sat  at 
his  feet  on  either  side.  The  usual  oration  was  made  by  Tunstal, 
Bishop  of  London,  the  Commons  then  retiring  to  their  own  House 
to  elect  More  as  Speaker.  When  presented  to  the  King  after  his 
election,  More,  according  to  Hall's  account,  "  disabled  himself  both 
in  wit  and  learning  and  discretion,  to  speak  before  the  King,  and 
brought  in  for  his  purpose  how  one  Phormio  desired  Hannibal 
to  come  to  his  reading,  which  thereto  assented ;  and  when  Hannibal 
was  come  he  began  to  read  de  re  militari.  When  Hannibal  per- 
ceived him  he  called  him  an  arrogant  fool,  because  he  presumed 
to  teach  him,  which  was  a  master  of  chivalry,  in  the  feats  of  war." 
Wolsey  replied  to  this  modest  speech  by  saying  "  that  the  King  knew 
his  wit,  learning,  and  discretion  by  long  experience  in  his  service," 
and  congratulated  the  Commons  on  their  selection.  It  should  be 
understood,  however,  that  "  the  Speaker  of  Tudor  reigns  was 
the  manager  of  business  on  the  part  of  the  crown."  More,  then, 
was  really  the  King's  nominee,  but  being  such  he  was  a  man  in  no 
way  to  be  dazzled  by  the  royal  favor,  or  to  be  deflected  thereby 
one  inch  from  the  path  of  rectitude.  As  an  arbiter  he  had  no 

^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iii.,  no.  2,317. 


390  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [June, 

superior;  scholars,  theologians,  politicians,  parents,  landowners, 
and  humbler  folk  equally  valued  his  strict  integrity,  his  inflexible 
justice,  and  his  sound  common  sense,  and  so  we  find  him  entrusted 
with  the  settlement  of  all  sorts  of  intricate  disputes  arising  amid 
the  various  ranks  and  classes  of  the  community. 

More's  services  in  Parliament  were  much  appreciated  in  high 
quarters.  "  The  King  is  aware,"  writes  Wolsey,*  "  of  the  faith- 
ful diligence  of  More  in  the  late  Parliament  about  the  subsidy, 
so  that  no  man  could  better  deserve  the  reward  -of  £100  which 
it  has  been  usual  to  give  the  Speaker  as  a  reward,  beside  the  £100 
ordinary.  He  will,  therefore,  cause  the  sum  to  be  advanced  on 
hearing  the  King's  pleasure.  I  am  rather  moved,"  he 
adds,  "  to  put  your  Highness  in  mind  thereof,  because  he  is  not 
the  most  ready  to  speak  and  solicit  his  own  cause."  The  grant 
was  duly  sanctioned  by  the  King,  and  More  writes,  shortly  after, 
to  thank  Wolsey,  saying  how  grateful  he  is  that  his  services  are 
so  well  liked.f 

More  was  now  kept  close  at  the  royal  heels,  as  we  see  from 
his  frequent  correspondence  with  Wolsey  on  the  Henry's  behalf. 
He  seems  generally  to  have  attended  on  the  King  after  supper, 
when  he  would  read  any  letters  from  Wolsey,  and  take  his  master's 
opinions  as  to  their  reply. 

Though  Wolsey  thoroughly  appreciated  his  sterling  qualities, 
and  was  more  than  pleased  at  his  successful  engineering  of  the 
war  subsidy,  "  More  was  a  man  he  rather  feared  than  liked." 
More  was  without  personal  ambitions;  he  was  also  without  the 
weakness  of  human  respect;  he  was  therefore  able  to  distinguish, 
perhaps  more  than  anyone  else  in  the  Court,  between  Wolsey's  high 
policy  and  his  low  ambition.  When,  for  instance,  the  latter  pro- 
posed that  a  new  office,  that  of  Supreme  Constable  of  the  Kingdom, 
should  be  created,  evidently  meaning  to  fill  it  himself,  More  opposed 
him,  and  persuaded  the  Council  to  abandon  the  scheme,  much  to  the 
Cardinal's  displeasure.  "  Are  you  not  ashamed,  Mr.  More,  being  the 
last  in  place  and  dignity  to  dissent  from  so  many  noble  and  prudent 
men?  You  show  yourself  a  foolish  Councillor."  "Thanks  be 
to  God,"  was  More's  quick  and  effective  reply,  "  that  his  royal 
Highness  has  but  one  fool  in  his  Council." 

A  literary  incident  took  place  during  these  years,  which  was 
certainly  regrettable,  and  added  nothing  to  More's  reputation ;  but  it 

^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  in.,  no.  3.267. 

Papers,  vol.  i.,  p.  143 ;  Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iii.,  nos.  3,302  and  3,363. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  391 

was  one  so  characteristic  of  the  times  that  it  must  not  be  passed  over. 
A  certain  Germain  de  Brie  or  Brixius,  a  Frenchman,  had  written  a 
poem  in  praise  of  the  gallant  feat  of  a  French  man-o'-war,  the 
Chordighera,  which  during  the  hostilities  of  1512  had  taken  fire,  and 
in  this  condition  had  borne  down  upon  an  English  vessel,  which  of 
course  took  fire  as  well.  More  thinking  such  a  panegyric  altogether 
improper,  took  care  to  make  some  very  cutting  allusions  to  it  in 
his  Epigrammata,  but  when  Erasmus  and  other  friends  suggested 
their  publication,  he  thought  it  would  be  better  to  omit  them.  Con- 
trary to  his  wish,  they  were  included,  and  before  he  could  prevent 
it  a  copy  reached  Brixius  himself.  Brixius  was  infuriated,  and  im- 
mediately set  about  the  composition  of  his  Anti-Morus,  a  satire  of 
the  bitterest  kind.  When  it  was  too  late,  Erasmus  wrote  to  More, 
begging  him  to  withhold  publication,  and  short  of  that  at  least  to 
refrain  from  retaliation.  But  More  did  retaliate,  and  with  so  heavy 
a  hand  that  Erasmus  wrote  to  Budseus,  saying  that,  although  he 
thought  himself  rather  an  adept  in  the  bitter  personalities  of  con- 
troversy, anything  he  had  done  was  comparatively  mild  compared 
with  More's  effusion  against  Brixius.  At  present  we  may  leave  the 
matter  thus,  but  something  more  will  be  said  about  it  in  a  later  ex- 
amination of  More's  controversial  style. 

In  the  autumn  of  1523,  More  paid  a  short  visit  to  Calais,  where 
Wolsey  was  engaged  on  diplomatic  business.  One  gathers  from 
Roper,  who,  by  the  way,  was  never  specially  devoted  to  Wolsey's 
memory,  that  the  Cardinal  was  growing  a  little  impatient  of  More's 
influence  at  Court,  and  "  for  revengement  of  his  displeasure  coun- 
selled the  King  to  send  him  Ambassador  into  Spain Which 

when  the  King  had  broken  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  that  he  had 

declared  unto  his  Grace  how  unfit  a  journey  it  was  for  him 

that  he  should  never  be  likely  to  do  his  Grace  acceptable  service 
therein,  knowing  right  well  that  if  his  Grace  sent  him  thither,  he 
should  send  him  to  his  grave;  but  showing  himself,  nevertheless, 
ready  according  to  his  duty,  albeit  with  the  loss  of  his  life,  to  fulfill 
his  Grace's  pleasure  therein,  the  King  allowing  well  his  answer, 
said  unto  him,  'It  is  not  our  meaning,  Mr.  More,  to  do  you  hurt, 
but  to  do  you  good  we  should  be  glad.  We,  therefore,  for  this 
purpose  will  devise  some  other,  and  employ  your  service  other- 


IRew  Boohs. 

CONFESSIONS   OF  A   CONVERT.     By  Robert  Hugh  Benson. 

New  York:  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.     $1.20  net. 

We  are  glad  that  Monsignor  Benson  has  at  last  yielded  to  the 
requests  of  his  many  friends  by  publishing  in  permanent  form 
this  simple  and  straightforward  apologia  of  his,  which  appeared  in 
the  Ave  Maria  some  six  years  ago.  It  will  silence  for  all  time 
those  bitter  Anglican  critics  who  have  given  the  most  absurd  and 
contradictory  reasons  why  he  became  a  Catholic. 

The  opening  chapter  tells  of  his  original  religious  education 
and  position.  He  paints  a  perfect  portrait  of  his  father,  though 
some  of  the  Archbishop's  co-religionists  have,  strangely  enough, 
questioned  its  accuracy,  and  spoken  of  his  son's  bad  taste  in  daring 
to  attempt  it.  They  were  angry  forsooth  at  the  charges  that  "  he 
failed  to  carry  out  his  principles,"  and  failed  to  develop  in  his  son 
"  the  spiritual  side  of  religion."  They  were  too  blind  to  see  that 
a  sense  of  logic  or  a  grasp  of  the  true  principles  of  spirituality 
would  have  made  the  father  a  convert  as  well  as  the  son. 

He  describes  the  religious  and  moral  tone  of  the  Eton  of  his 
time  as  rather  low.  He  writes : 

Chapel  services  at  Eton  counted  for  very  little  indeed  usually 
in  a  religious  direction;  they  were  rather  artistic,  very  aca- 
demic, and  represented,  I  think,  the  same  kind  of  official  homage 
to  Almighty  God  as  cheering  the  Queen  when  she  came  to  see 
us Some  things  you  must  not  be :  you  must  not  be  per- 
sonally dirty,  or  a  coward,  or  a  bully,  or  a  thief ;  but  in  this  other 
matter  [of  purity]  you  could  choose  for  yourself  without  being 
thought  either  a  blackguard  or  a  prude 

After  leaving  Eton  he  stayed  in  London  for  a  year,  becoming 
vaguely  interested  for  a  while  in  theosophy;  entirely  absorbed 
and  fascinated  by  the  music  at  St.  Paul's,  and  having  his  sense 
of  worship  developed  and  directed  by  an  absolute  passion  for 
Shorthouse's  book,  John  Inglesant. 

At  Cambridge  he  neglected  his  prayers,  almost  gave  up  Com- 
munion, and  the  religion  he  did  possess  "  had  no  spark  in  it  of 
real  vitality."  One  of  his  closest  friends  at  this  time  was  an 
explicitly  dogmatic  atheist,  yet  he  oddly  enough  says :  "  I  was 
conscious  of  no  particularly  alarming  gulf  between  us."  This 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  393 

friend  must  at  least  have  had  a  logical  mind,  for  he  once  declared 
"  that,  granted  Christianity,  Catholicism  was  its  only  possible  inter- 
pretation." 

Why  he  decided  to  study  for  the  Anglican  ministry,  he  has 
not  discovered  up  to  the  present  time,  although  he  imagines  that 
a  life  spent  in  an  ecclesiastical  household,  and  the  absence  of 
any  other  particular  interest,  seemed  to  point  to  a  clerical  life 
as  the  line  of  least  resistance.  His  ideal  was  that  of  a  "  quiet 
country  gentleman,  with  a  beautiful  garden  and  exquisite  choir, 
and  a  sober  bachelor  existence." 

His  first  start  on  the  road  to  the  Catholic  Church,  though  he  did 
not  realize  it  at  the  time,  was  given  by  Father  Maturin  of  the 
Cowley  Fathers  during  a  retreat  at  Kensing.  He  tells  us  that 
this  eloquent  preacher  touched  his  heart  profoundly  as  well  as 
his  head,  revealing  to  him  the  springs  and  motives  of  his  own 
nature  in  a  completely  new  manner.  Father  Maturin's  conversion 
to  the  Church  later  on  was  a  great  shock  to  him,  but  at  the  same 
time  a  great  help  on  his  onward  journey. 

After  his  father's  death,  he  traveled  in  the  East  for  five 
months,  both  in  Egypt  and  the  Holy  Land,  and  there  began  to 
realize  for  the  first  time  what  a  very  small  and  unimportant  affair 
the  Anglican  communion  really  was.  The  rest  of  Christendom 
seemed  to  regard  it  purely  as  a  Protestant  sect  of  recent  origin. 
Again,  he  began  to  worry  over  the  strong  case  for  Roman  con- 
tinuity with  the  pre-re formation  Church,  and  the  respective  weak- 
ness of  his  own.  He  tried  to  conquer  these  intellectual  doubts  by 
reading  anti-Roman  books,  by  speaking  contemptuously  of  the 
"  Italian  Mission,"  and  by  working  hard  to  reclaim  waverers. 
About  this  time  he  joined  the  Anglican  Community  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion, believing  that  the  only  hope  ot  peace  was  in  the  direction 
of  religious  life. 

He  has  only  words  of  praise  for  the  community  at  Mirfield. 
He  says :  "  It  will  be  impossible  for  me  ever  to  acknowledge  ade- 
quately the  debt  of  gratitude  which  I  owe  to  the  Community  of  the 
Resurrection,  or  the  admiration  which  I  have  always  felt,  and  still 
feel,  toward  their  method  and  spirit."  While  with  them  he  learned 
practically  to  hold  all  the  dogmas  of  the  Catholic  Church,  ex- 
cept the  infallibility  of  the  Pope,  although  the  community  in 
general  seemed  most  anxious  at  the  time  to  dissociate  themselves 
from  the  extreme  party  of  the  Church  of  England. 

The  moderate  High  Church  theory  of  his  youth  had  now 


394  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

given  way  to  what  he  calls  the  "  Diffusive  Theory."  Instead  of 
declaring  that  Rome  and  the  East  had  erred  through  excess,  and 
the  Nonconformists  through  defect,  and  that  the  Church  of 
England  was  in  her  appeal  and  supposed  resemblance  to  the  primi- 
tive Church  the  most  orthodox  body  in  Christendom,  he  now 
maintained  that  the  Catholic  Church  comprised  Rome,  Moscow,  and 
Canterbury,  with  a  certain  speaking  voice,  i.  e.,  her  silent  consensus. 
Where  the  three  agreed,  there  was  the  explicit  voice  of  the  Holy 
Spirit;  where  they  dogmatically  disagreed,  there  was  the  field  for 
private  opinion. 

By  degrees  the  untenableness  of  this  theory  became  manifest, 
and  the  need  of  an  infallible  teaching  Church  to  preserve  and  inter- 
pret the  truths  of  Christianity  to  each  succeeding  generation  began 
to  dawn  upon  him.  He  writes :  "  I  am  an  official  of  a  Church 
that  did  not  seem  to  know  her  own  mind,  even  on  matters  directly 
connected  with  the  salvation  of  the  soul." 

With  humility  and  singleness  of  motive,  he  asked  himself 
whether  or  not  Rome  was  that  teaching  Church.  He  mentioned  his 
Roman  difficulties  to  his  superior  and  to  his  mother,  who  alone 
had  the  right  to  know  them;  he  consulted  the  friends,  clerical  and 
lay,  whom  they  suggested ;  he  "  devoured  "  everything  he  could 
find  on  both  sides  of  the  controversy.  The  books  that  helped  him 
most  were  Spencer  Jones'  England  and  the  Holy  See,  Mallock's 
Doctrine  and  Doctrinal  Disruption,  and  Newman's  Development 
of  Doctrine,  that  "  like  a  magician  waved  away  the  last  floating 
mists,  and  let  me  see  the  City  of  God  in  her  strength  and  beauty." 
Finally  and  supremely,  it  was  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  that 
satisfied  him  as  to  the  positive  claims  of  Rome.  He  found  the 
Petrine  claim  there  "  like  a  great  jewel,  blazing  on  the  surface." 

Some  of  the  letters  that  Monsignor  Benson  received  after  his 
reception  into  the  Church  spoke  of  him  as  "  a  deliberate  traitor, 
an  infatuated  fool,  an  impatient,  headstrong,  and  ungrateful  bigot 
who  had  dishonored  his  father's  name  and  memory."  But  one 
Anglican  clergyman  with  a  conscience  congratulated  him  for  having 
found  his  way  into  the  City  of  Peace.  Eight  years  later  he  also 
entered  that  city. 

We  are  grateful  to  Monsignor  Benson  for  this  book.  It  is  a 
simple  story  of  a  soul,  naturally  Catholic,  longing  for  the  truth, 
and  accepting  it  wholeheartedly  once  it  revealed  itself.  It  will 
prove  helpful  to  other  earnest  seekers  who  are  facing  the  same 
difficulties,  and  looking  for  the  divine  answer  to  their  questioning. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  395 

LEVIA-PONDERA.     By    John    Ayscough.     New    York:     Long- 
mans, Green  &  Co.     $1.75  net. 

It  would  seem  that  Monsignor  Bicker staffe-Drew  was  trying 
to  outdo  Monsignor  Benson  in  producing  volume  after  volume. 
We  loved  him  best  as  a  novelist;  we  liked  him  least  as  a  maker 
of  guide  books,  and  lo !  now  he  gathers  together  his  scattered  papers, 
ties  them  in  a  bundle,  and  wins  new  laurels  as  an  essayist  of 
considerable  merit.  He  tells  us  what  a  good  essayist  must  be, 
and  he  for  the  most  part  lives  up  to  the  ideal  he  sets  before  us. 
Style  is  half  the  battle,  and  the  author  of  San  Celestino  and 
of  Hurdcott  is  certainly  not  wanting  here;  the  true  essayist  is 
never  quite  young,  and  our  entertainer  and  instructor  is  over 
sixty;  he  should  be  able  to  write  on  the  lid  of  a  tea-kettle,  or 
even  on  such  a  poetic  thing  as  the  kitchen  poker,  and  John  Ayscough 
can  talk  interestingly  about  Footnotes,  or  Great  Age. 

Perhaps  his  best  paper  is  the  one  on  Walter  Scott.  No  other 
lover  of  the  great  Sir  Walter  might  agree  with  his  dogmatic  ar- 
rangement of  the  novels  in  order  of  merit,  but  every  Catholic 
will  agree  with  his  estimate  of  Scott's  ignorance  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  He  says  truly: 

The  real  influence  of  the  Church  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 
never  revealed  to  this  man  of  genius,  for  revelation  is  accorded 
not  to  talent  but  to  sincerity;  and  in  this  matter  Scott  was  not 
sincere,  but  opportunistic.  He  did  not  grasp  the  heart  of  the 
Middle  Age ;  for  its  heart  was  its  faith ;  he  had  merely  read  of 
its  behavior,  which  was  sometimes  queer  and  sometimes  scan- 
dalous, as  was  the  behavior  of  the  much-admired  Primitive  Age, 
as  has  been  that  of  the  age  enlightened  by  all  the  pure  beams 

of  Scott's  beloved  Reformation how  it  thought  he  had 

not  the  least  idea. 

We  think  that  the  author  might  better  have  omitted  the  paper 
on  Fickle  Fame,  for  it  repeats  quite  a  number  of  the  good  things 
we  have  already  read  in  the  Entail.  Once  is  enough  to  tell  us  that 
"  few  to-day  read  Dr.  Johnson,"  especially  his  Rasselas;  "  that 
Johnson  thought  Tristram  Shandy  odd ;"  "  that  Withering  Heights 
is  a  unique  and  singular  book,  etc.,  etc.  We  did  not  think  that 
his  model  essayist,  be  he  Lamb  or  Birrell,  would  have  been  so 
careless  in  his  book-making. 

There  are  many  quotable  things  throughout  the  volume,  in 
turn  humorous,  sarcastic,  and  instructive.  For  example : 


396  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

Protestant  nuns  are  all  feet.  They  talk  at  large  about  educa- 
tion, but  their  first  principle  in  education  is  elimination  of  God. 
There  is  no  such  a  thing  as  Protestant  Church  architecture. 
The  Cathedrals  have  never  turned  Protestant.  Beauty  is  ac- 
counted meritorious  because  no  one  by  any  degree  of  merit  can 
achieve  it.  Had  Henry  VIII.  been  respectable,  Queen  Elizabeth 
would  never  have  existed.  The  saints  were  mere  Papists,  all 
of  them.  There  are  decent  people  in  general  who  never  give 
scandal:  they  take  it  about  once  a  week.  One  may  even  see, 
nowadays,  meeting-houses  with  crosses  on  them  venerated 
as  religiously  as  the  cross  on  a  hot-cross  bun.  The  most  fatal 
of  all  pessimisms  is  that  which  calls  Evil  Good,  and  sees  no 
menace  in  evil  growing,  but  declares  it  all  healthy  progress. 
The  loss  of  faith  does  not  tend  to  cheerfulness  in  individuals, 
and  never  will  tend  that  way  in  nations.  In  Scotland  and  Nor- 
way the  prevalence  of  illegitimate  births  is  due  to  the  chill  of 
the  climate.  It  is  odd  that  in  Catholic  Ireland  the  humidity  and 
softness  of  the  climate  should  produce  a  contrary  result;  odd, 
but  certainly  fortunate.  The  reformers  would  have  no  more 
saints,  and  they  never  have  had,  etc. 

We  hope  we  have  said  enough  to  make  our  readers  buy  these 
suggestive  essays,  and  not  imitate  the  poor  lady  he  speaks  of, 
"  struggling  along  on  six  thousand  pounds  a  year,  who  always  did 
get  a  certain  author's  book,  but  waited  until  she  could  get  them 
from  Boots  for  ninepence." 

OUR  BOOK  OF  MEMORIES.     Letters  of  Justin  McCarthy  to 

Mrs.    Campbell    Praed.     Boston:     Small,    Maynard    &    Co. 

$4.00  net. 

Cardinal  Newman  has  well  said  that  "  not  only  for  the  inter- 
ests of  a  biography,  but  for  arriving  at  the  inside  of  things  the 
publication  of  letters  is  the  true  method.  Biographers  varnish, 
they  assign  motives,  they  conjecture  feelings,  they  interpret  Lord 
Burleigh's  nod,  but  contemporary  letters  are  facts." 

Mrs.  Campbell  Praed  rightly  deems  these  words  especially 
applicable  to  the  letters  Justin  McCarthy  wrote  her  during  their 
long  friendship  and  literary  co-partnership.  After  they  had  writ- 
ten three  novels  in  collaboration,  he  suggested  that  they  might 
collaborate  pleasurably  in  a  volume  of  personal  impressions  about 
politics,  literature,  and  London  life  of  the  eighties  and  early  nineties, 
to  be  published  after  the  dramatic  period  of  Mr.  Parnell's  fight  for 
Home  Rule  should  have  ended.  But  the  book  as  originally  planned 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  397 

was  never  written ;  so  she  determined,  therefore,  to  make  up  for  it 
by  publishing  the  many  letters  he  wrote  to  her  from  1884  to  1911. 

Justin  McCarthy  reveals  himself  in  these  letters  as  a  most 
genial  personality,  "always  a  man  of  noble  ideas,  the  most  chivalric 
of  gentlemen,  and  the  most  loyal  of  friends/'  For  twelve  years 
(1884-1896)  no  man  worked  harder  or  sacrificed  more  for  the 
Irish  cause  than  he.  As  he  himself  put  it  strongly :  "  I  should 
liked  to  have  died  on  some  battlefield  for  the  cause  of  Ireland." 
He  did  his  utmost  by  pen  and  tongue  to  further  the  two  Home 
Rule  bills  of  1886  and  1892,  and  despite  his  own  poor  health,  his 
longing  for  literary  quiet,  and  the  disunion  in  the  Irish  ranks,  he 
never  once  faltered  in  the  hard  but  hopeless  struggle. 

These  letters  do  not  tell  us  anything  that  we  did  not  know 
before  of  those  stirring  days  of  Irish  politics,  but  they  help  con- 
siderably to  confirm  the  facts  we  have  already  learned  through 
many  a  recent  political  biography.  There  are  many  brief  but 
accurate  sketches  of  the  men  who  made  history  in  those  days — 
Gladstone,  Parnell,  Morley,  and  many  others. 

But  Justin  McCarthy's  interests  were  not  all  political.  In 
fact,  from  at  least  a  score  of  letters  it  becomes  perfectly 
evident  that  political  life  was  not  entirely  congenial  to  him,  though 
he  followed  it  from  a  deep  sense  of  duty  and  patriotism.  He  was 
always  longing  for  the  Irish  fight  to  be  over  and  won,  that  he  might 
settle  down  to  a  life  of  quiet  literary  work. 

He  was  a  most  prolific  and  indefatigable  writer.  Besides  his 
thousands  of  letters,  he  published  many  novels  and  biographies; 
he  wrote  numerous  leaders  for  the  Daily  News;  he  contributed 
scores  of  articles  and  stories  to  magazines  in  England  and  America, 
and  lectured  on  political  and  literary  subjects  on  every  possible 
occasion.  He  wrote  with  the  greatest  ease — perhaps  too  easily  as 
he  once  said  himself — and  lived  too  strenuous  a  life  to  allow  himself 
ever  to  hold  one  of  the  first  places  in  the  literary  world. 

Mrs.  Praed  tells  us  that  "  Justin  McCarthy  had  been  brought 
up  a  devout  Catholic,  and,  in  the  later  years  of  his  life,  attended 
Mass  regularly  with  his  daughter,  and  was  a  firm  believer  in  the 
tenets  of  the  Church  of  Rome."  She  publishes  one  of  his  letters 
on  the  subject,  which  we  are  sorry  to  say  is  not  at  all  Catholic 
in  tone.  Speaking  of  dogmatic  and  mystical  questions  he  says: 

Even  on  those  questions  the  Catholic  Church  seems  to  me 
more  likely  to  be  right  than  any  other — but  I  put  those  mysteries 


398  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

aside  as  insoluble  for  you  and  me — and  I  only  think  that  if 
one  is  beaten  a  good  deal  by  the  storms  and  the  buffets  of  the 
world,  the  safest  and  the  most  inviting  harbor  is  to  be  found 
in  that  Church.  Perhaps  some  other  and  profounder  faith  may 
come  too  in  its  time  (sic.),  but  I  would  let  it  come  if  it  will. 
I  would  not  yearn  for  it — I  would  not  even  seek  it — there 
seems  something  morbid  and  even  artificial  in  the  deliberate 
quest  after  it;  if  there  is  genuine  efficacy  in  it,  then  I  suppose 
it  will  come.  But  anyhow,  I  feel  that,  with  some  of  us  at  least, 
it  is  to  be  the  Church  of  Rome  or  no  Church  at  all. 

Mrs.  Campbell  Praed  has  edited  these  letters  as  a  labor  of  love. 
Her  wreath  of  immortelles — so  she  styles  her  book — is  the  best  of 
tributes  to  a  man  of  spotless  integrity  in  political  life,  of  absolute 
fidelity  to  chosen  friends,  and  of  exceptional  talent  in  literary 
achievement. 

BETROTHMENT  AND  MARRIAGE.     By  Canon  de  Smet.     Vol. 

I.     Translated  from  the  French  edition  of  1912  by  Rev.  W. 

Dobell.     St.  Louis:   B.  Herder.     $2.25. 

We  welcome  Father  Dobell's  translation  of  Canon  de  Smet's 
de  Sponsalibus  et  Matrimonio,  which  we  consider  the  best  of  the 
many  scholarly  volumes  which  the  theological  faculty  of  Bruges 
has  published.  Without  question  it  is  the  most  complete  and 
most  satisfactory  treatise  on  the  marriage  laws  that  we  have  in 
English.  Theoretically  it  studies  every  problem  from  the  view- 
point of  dogma,  history,  and  canon  law,  while  practically  it  answers 
all  the  questions  of  the  busy  pastor  and  confessor. 

The  translation  is  well  done,  having  been  supervised  by  the 
author  himself,  who  has  enriched  it  with  many  valuable  additions. 
The  references  are  many  and  accurate,  the  subdivisions  are  an 
improvement  on  the  original  Latin  text;  and  while  the  critics 
have  rightly  disputed  a  few  of  the  author's  conclusions,  the  book  as 
a  whole  is  beyond  criticism.  In  the  second  volume,  which  we 
trust  will  soon  appear,  we  are  promised  special  appendices  on  the 
laws  of  England  and  America. 

A  PILGRIM  OF  ETERNITY.     By  Rev.   G.   S.   Hitchcock.     St. 

Louis:   B.  Herder.     60  cents. 

These  papers  of  a  Unitarian  minister  describe  some  of  the 
phases  of  his  soul's  journey  on  the  road  to  the  Catholic  Church. 
As  the  author  well  states :  "  Had  I  written  a  straightforward 
narrative  the  work  would  have  been  easier  and  the  result  clearer, 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  399 

precisely  because  the  adding  fact  to  fact  would  have  been  within 
my  limitations."  But  he  preferred  to  publish  these  desultory  notes, 
hoping  thereby  that  one  in  a  similar  intellectual  position  might 
the  better  realize  the  fact  and  the  beauty  of  the  supernatural. 

We  have  in  these  pages  interesting  essays  on  ancient  Greek 
and  modern  German  philosophy;  a  critique  of  Martineau  and  a 
discussion  of  the  Fourth  Gospel;  an  estimate  of  Socialism,  and  an 
appreciation  of  the  Catholic  Church  as  a  true  lover  of  the  poor; 
a  philosophy  of  revelation  and  a  treatise  on  the  Last  Things. 
It  is  a  most  thoughtful  book,  and  will  prove  of  great  service  to 
souls  brought  up  in  the  vagueness  and  uncertainity  of  liberal  Prot- 
estantism. 

POOR,  DEAR  MARGARET  KIRBY,  AND   OTHER  STORIES. 

By  Kathleen  Norris.     New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co.     $1.30. 

Kathleen  Norris  has  given  us  a  feast  of  good  things  in  this 
collection  of  short  stories.  They  are  all  wholesome  in  tone,  charm- 
ing in  style,  and  drive  home  needed  truths  without  being  at  all 
prosy.  They  are  most  varied,  being  pathetic,  humorous,  and  heroic 
in  turn.  Very  often  they  illustrate  her  favorite  commandment: 
"Marry  not  for  money  but  for  love;  have  plenty  of  babies,  and 
happiness  of  the  truest  sort  will  be  yours." 

Margaret  Kirby  only  begins  to  appreciate  what  home  life 
and  true  affection  mean  when  her  husband's  failure  compels  her  to 
taste  the  blessedness  of  poverty.  Annie  Warriner  forgets  at  once 
all  her  mental  and  physical  discomfort  when  she  hears  the  pathetic 
story  of  another  couple's  uphill  struggle.  For  pure  fun  and  frolic 
we  recommend  the  wooing  of  Dr.  Bates,  and  the  experience  of 
shiftless  Susanna,  who  managed  to  help  her  husband  more  by 
breaking  appointments  with  him  than  by  keeping  them.  Tide 
Marsh  and  Rising  Water  show  excellently  well  the  wonderful 
sacrifices  women  are  ever  ready  to  make  for  the  sake  of  little  chil- 
dren. The  whole  book  is  a  cheerful  message  of  peace  and  happi- 
ness to  the  true  modern  woman. 

COME  RACK!     COME  ROPE!     By  Robert  Hugh  Benson.     New 

York:    P.  J.  Kenedy  &  Sons.     $1.35. 

This  book  is  unequalled  in  the  vivid  picture  it  presents  of  the 
days  when  English  martyrs  by  the  score  gladly  gave  up  their  lives 
for  the  Mass  and  the  Papal  Supremacy.  As  Monsignor  Benson 
tells  us  in  the  preface :  "  Very  near  the  whole  of  this  book  is  sober, 


400  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

historical  fact;  and  by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  personages 
named  in  it  once  lived  and  acted  in  the  manner  in  which  I  have 
presented  them." 

Many  a  reader,  however,  who  will  fight  shy  of  the  sober  his- 
torical facts  of  Challoner's  Memoirs  of  Missionary  Priests  or  Dom 
Bede  Camm's  Forgotten  Shrines,  will  gladly  take  up  this  fascinating 
novel,  which  makes  the  heroic  souls  of  the  past  live  again  in  all 
the  beauty  and  strength  of  their  pure  Catholic  Faith. 

The  hero  of  the  story  is  Robert  Audrey,  who  called  by  God 
to  labor  on  the  English  mission  in  the  Society  of  Jesus,  gives  up 
all  that  is  dear  to  him  in  this  world,  and  at  the  end  dies  nobly 
for  the  Faith  on  the  gallows.  Monsignor  Benson  has  the  dramatic 
instinct,  and  never  perhaps  in  all  his  books  has  he  manifested  it 
to  better  advantage.  Scene  after  scene  follows  in  such  profusion 
that  we  begin  to  understand  the  author's  fears,  that  some  might 
think  his  book  "too  sensational." 

Part  I.  describes  in  excellent  contrast  the  fidelity  of  Robin 
to  the  old  Faith,  and  the  apostasy  of  his  father,  who  cannot  stand 
the  stress  of  persecution,  or  overcome  the  fear  of  impending  ruin. 
Nothing  grips  the  heart  of  the  reader  so  strongly  as  that  pathetic 
scene  which  describes  the  old  squire's  first  Communion  in  a  Prot- 
estant Church.  That  passage  is  worth  a  score  of  scholarly  argu- 
ments against  the  absurd  Anglican  claim  of  continuity.  Later  on 
in  the  story  the  weakening  of  Sir  Thomas  Fitzherbert  pictures 
another  type  of  that  recreant  laity,  that  sold  the  Faith  for  money 
and  peace  and  preferment  in  Elizabethan  England. 

Part  II.  introduces  us  to  Father  Campion,  from  whose  speech 
after  torture  the  title  of  the  book  is  taken.  "He  was  indeed  a  fire, 
a  smoke  in  the  nostrils  of  his  adversaries,  a  flame  in  the  heart  of 
his  friends." 

Part  III.  centres  around  Mary  Stuart,  whose  innocence  our 
author  maintains,  true  to  the  old  Catholic  tradition.  We  follow 
her  to  Chartley,  and  assist  at  her  execution  at  Fotheringay. 

Part  IV.  describes  the  last  days  of  Audrey's  ministry.  We 
pity  his  father  when,  as  magistrate,  he  is  called  upon  to  arrest, 
despite  himself,  the  priests  in  hiding;  and  we  realize  the  despair 
in  his  heart  when  among  them  he  discovers  his  own  son.  We  hope 
that  at  the  end  he  repented  of  his  disloyalty  to  the  Church  of 
his  fathers,  and  that  Audrey's  absolution  was  a  valid  one.  The 
vivid  portrayal  of  the  horrors  of  the  torture  chamber,  and  the  final 
scene  on  the  gallows,  will  bring  tears  to  many  eyes. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  401 

The  martyr's  last  speech  will  linger  long  in  the  memory,  giving 
as  it  does  the  lie  to  those  who  still  maintain  that  the  priests  who 
suffered  under  Elizabeth  were  all  traitors.  "  I  die  here  as  a  Catho- 
lic man,  for  my  priesthood,  which  I  now  confess  before  all  the 
world.  There  have  been  alleged  against  me  crimes  in  which  I  had 
neither  act  nor  part;  against  the  life  of  her  Grace  and  the  peace  of 
her  dominions.  It  is  for  the  Catholic  Faith  that  I  die — that  which 
was  once  the  Faith  of  all  England — and  which,  I  pray,  may  be  one 
day  its  Faith  again." 

We  hope  that  Monsignor  Benson  will  henceforth  avoid  the 
field  of  prophecy,  and  keep  to  the  historical  novel.  Besides  enter- 
taining us,  he  is  at  the  same  time  doing  an  apologetic  work  of 
the  highest  importance. 

A  GUIDE  BOOK  TO  COLORADO.    By  Eugene  Parsons.    Boston: 

Little,  Brown  &  Co.     $1.50  net. 

Mr.  Parsons  has  written  a  complete  and  interesting  guide 
book  to  that  Switzerland  of  America,  Colorado.  While  he  has 
chiefly  in  mind  the  tourist — "  telling  him  where  to  go  and  what 
to  see  " — he  also  intends  it  as  a  book  of  reference  to  the  possible 
settler.  He  tells  us  of  Colorado  county  by  county,  giving  us 
brief  but  excellent  sketches  of  its  first  explorers,  the  pioneers' 
contests  with  the  Indians,  and  the  opening  up  of  its  rich  mines 
of  gold  and  silver.  All  the  scenic  beauties  of  the  State  are 
well  described,  and  all  details  of  interest  to  the  traveler  and 
sportsman  are  minutely  set  forth.  We  recommend  this  book  highly 
to  the  thousands  of  tourists  who  intend  to  go  to  California  for 
the  first  time  during  the  Panama  Exposition  of  1915. 

THE  AMATEUR  GENTLEMAN.     By  Jeffery  Farnol.     Boston: 

Little,  Brown  &  Co.     $1.40  net. 

Barnabas  Barty,  son  of  the  ex-champion  of  England,  and 
landlord  of  the  Coursing  Hound,  is  left  a  fortune  of  £700,000 
by  an  uncle  in  America.  Straightway  he  determines  to  set  forth 
against  his  father's  will  for  London,  to  become  a  gentleman  of 
fashion.  A  most  wonderful  valet,  whom  he  picks  up  on  the  road, 
endeavors  to  dissuade  him  from  entering  "  that  fashionable  world — 
so  heartless,  cruel,  and  shallow;  where  inexperience  is  made  a 
mock  of,  and  generosity  laughed  to  scorn,"  but  our  hero  will  not 
be  dissuaded. 

On  he  goes  in  his  career,  falling  in  love  at  the  outset  with 

VOL.   XCVII. — 26. 


402  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

the  Lady  Cleone,  thrashing  one  leader  of  fashion  who  becomes  his 
enemy,  and  then  another  who  becomes  his  best  friend,  continually 
frustrating  the  schemes  of  the  villain,  vainly  striving  to  help  his 
sweetheart's  scoundrel  brother,  and  winning  at  last  the  gentleman's 
steeplechase,  which  gives  him  at  once  the  leadership  in  the  world 
of  fashion.  But  lo!  at  the  banquet  given  in  his  honor  at  White's, 
his  humble  father  rushes  in  unexpectedly,  reveals  his  identity,  and 
at  once  all  the  dukes,  viscounts,  and  barons  present  desert  the 
"Amateur  Gentleman,"  who  by  his  deceit  had  gained  a  standing 
in  their  illustrious  company.  In  the  depth  of  his  despair  he  is 
helped,  against  all  the  probabilities,  by  an  "  almost  human  duchess." 
who  sees  to  it  that  he  marries  the  Lady  Cleone.  Love  laughs  at 
all  distinction  of  class  and  birth. 

Mr.  Farnol  writes  well,  many  of  his  characters  like  the  Bo'sun, 
Smivvle  and  the  Bow  Street  runner,  Shrig,  reminding  one  forcibly 
of  Dickens.  However,  he  keeps  his  readers  too  much  on  the  alert 
with  his  hero's  interminable  adventures  and  his  marvelous  hair- 
breadth escapes. 

The  book  is  absolutely  pagan  in  tone  from  start  to  finish, 
but  it  will  satisfy  the  unthinking  novel  reader  who  only  seeks 
to  pass  away  an  idle  hour. 

THE  DECIDING  VOICE  OF  THE  MONUMENTS  IN  BIBLICAL 

CRITICISM.     By  Melvin  Grove  Kyle,  D.D.     Oberlin,  Ohio: 

Bibliotheca  Sacra  Co.     $2.15. 

Dr.  Kyle,  of  the  Xenia  Theological  Seminary,  has  written  this 
volume  to  defend  the  authenticity  of  the  books  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment against  the  attacks  of  the  modern,  destructive  Higher  Crit- 
icism. He  has  endeavored  to  refute  its  a  priori  theorizing  from 
the  data  afforded  by  the  study  of  archaeology.  '.. 

His  thesis  as  stated,  by  Professor  James  Orr  in  the  Intro- 
duction, is  that 

the  progress  of  knowledge  has  not  overthrown,  but  has  in 
innumerable  and  surprising  ways  helped  to  confirm,  the  view  one 
derives  from  the  Bible  itself  as  to  the  beginnings  of  human 
history;  the  character  of  ancient  civilizations,  and  the  place  of 
the  Hebrews  in  the  midst  of  these ;  the  old  family  relationships 
and  distributions  of  mankind;  the  verisimilitude  of  the  picture 
of  patriarchal  conditions;  of  life  in  Egypt,  in  the  desert,  and 
in  Canaan ;  of  the  later  history  of  the  kingdoms,  and  altogether 
i  %  of  the  course  of  events  as  depicted  in  Holy  Scripture,  in  contrast 
with  the  violent  and  hypothetical  constructions  based  largely 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  403 

on  an  a  priori  theory  of  development  of  the  modern  critical 
schools. 

He  quotes  largely  from  the  works  of  scholars  like  Sayce, 
Naville,  Halevy,  and  Petrie.  He  does  not  seem  to  be  acquainted 
with  many  Catholic  authorities,  for  the  only  two  cited  are  Father 
Oussani  of  the  Dunwoodie  Seminary,  and  Father  Vincent  of  the 
Biblical  School  in  Jerusalem.  It  is  an  honest  and  labored  attempt 
to  defend  the  old  conservative  theories,  but  we  hardly  think  it  will 
prove  very  effective  among  the  adversaries  he  seeks  to  confute. 
"  He  who  tries  to  prove  too  much  proves  nothing,"  as  the  wise  old 
adage  puts  it. 

THE    INVADERS.      By    Mrs.    Frances    N.    S.    Allen.      Boston: 

Houghton  Mifflin  Co.     $1.30  net. 

The  invaders  of  Mrs.  Allen's  story  are  the  Irish  and  Polish 
settlers,  who  are  rapidly  taking  over  the  farms  of  the  shiftless 
and  so-called  "  aristocratic  "  New  Englander.  The  old  settlers  of  a 
little  New  England  village  are  at  first  most  bitterly  prejudiced 
against  these  newcomers,  but  their  bitterness  turns  to  affection, 
once  their  excellent  qualities  become  known.  The  invasion  ends 
in  the  surrender  of  the  two  heroines,  Olivia  and  Prunella,  to  the 
superior  charms  of  Patrick  Joyce  and  Stefan  Posadowski. 

Although  the  Irish  hero  and  his  kindly  sister  are  supposed 
to  be  well-educated,  they  speak  in  a  language  never  spoken  before 
by  any  convent-bred  girl  or  any  university  man ;  the  broken  English 
too  of  our  Polish  genius,  Stefan,  and  his  genial  pastor  is  also  most 
wonderful  and  unique.  But  these  are  only  minor  blemishes  in  an 
otherwise  well-written  story.  The  characters  are  well  drawn,  and 
the  village  life  with  all  its  gossip,  meanness,  narrowness,  and  pseudo- 
aristocracy  well  described.  There  is  a  kindly  humor  and  winning 
naturalness  about  the  book  that  make  one  loath  to  put  it  down  at 
the  end. 

We  were  rather  pleased  to  learn  that  the  Polish  pastor,  Father 
Zujewski,  was  a  subscriber  to  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  and  that  he 
was  courteous  enough  to  pass  it  on  to  his  friend,  the  Congrega- 
tionalist  minister. 

TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR.     By  Bird  S.  Coler.     New  York: 

Frank  D.  Beattys  &  Co.     $1.50  net. 

Mr.  Coler  has  written  a  common  sense  plea,  or  as  he  calls 
it,  a  two-and-two-make-four  argument,  for  the  teaching  of  religion 
in  the  schools.  The  volume  contains  a  long  historical  digression,  de- 


404  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

fending  the  Catholic  Church  against  the  lies  and  calumnies  of  Prot- 
estant prejudice,  which  is  as  rare  as  it  is  refreshing,  coming  as  it 
does  from  an  outsider.  And  why  ?  Because  he  says : 

It  is  plain  to  me  that  Catholicism  can  stand  up  against  a  State- 
supported  educational  system  from  which  God  is  excluded,  and 
equally  plain  that  Protestantism  cannot,  and  that  the  result  of 
the  public  policy  so  many  Protestants  blindly  support  will  be  a 
complete  extinction  of  their  branch  of  Christianity,  and  a  divi- 
sion of  the  world  of  opinion  between  Catholicism  on  the  one 
hand  and  atheism  on  the  other. 

He  is  an  outspoken  critic  of  the  public  schools  of  the  United 
States,  which  he  declares  "  are  not  making  for  righteousness." 
The  present  system  has  been  tried  and  found  wanting  in  the  one 
thing  essential,  the  religious  training  of  the  child.  He  says: 

We  must  regain  for  God  the  children  of  the  nation.  If  we 
were  all  of  one  creed,  it  might  be  done  through  our  present  pub- 
lic-school system.  But  we  are  of  many  creeds,  so  that  the  only 
practical  plan  is  to  let  each  creed  teach  its  own,  and  let  the 
State  pay,  out  of  the  taxes  from  all,  a  just  compensation  to 
each  educational  agency,  secular  or  religious,  for  the  educational 
work  it  shall  perform. 

He  gives  us  a  brief  critique  of  Socialism,  which,  he  feels 
certain,  would  capture  the  elementary  schools  if  it  could,  as  it 
realizes  the  importance  of  beginning  its  propaganda  early.  He 
cites  Spargo,  who,  in  his  Socialism,  writes: 

Whether  the  Socialist  regime  could  tolerate  the  existence  of 
elementary  schools  other  than  its  own,  such  as  privately  con- 
ducted kindergartens  and  schools,  religious,  and  so  on,  is  ques- 
tionable. Probably  not.  It  would  probably  not  content  itself 
with  refusing  to  permit  religious  doctrine  or  ideas  to  be  taught 
in  its  schools,  but  would  go  further,  and,  as  the  natural  pro- 
tector of  the  child,  guard  its  independence  of  thought  in  later 
life,  as  far  as  possible,  by  forbidding  religious  teaching  of  any 

kind  in  schools   for  children  up  to  a  certain  age This 

restriction  of  religious  education  to  the  years  of  judgment  and 
discretion  implies  no  hostility  (sic.)  to  religion  on  the  part  of  the 
State,  but  neutrality. 

The  so-called  neutral  school  in  France,  as  Mr.  Coler  well 
points  out,  has  boldly  attacked  all  religion,  laughed  at  morality, 
and  the  very  idea  of  God,  with  the  result  of  increasing  illiteracy, 
lowering  the  birth-rate,  and  adding  greatly  to  the  sum  of  criminality. 

It  is  most  rare  to  find  in  the  pages  of  a  non-Catholic  writer 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  405 

so  clear  an  assertion  of  Catholic  principles,  and  so  fair  an  account 
of  historical  facts.  We  trust  that  his  fairness  will  be  emulated  by 
many  of  his  co-religionists. 

SHAKESPEARE,  BACON,  AND  THE  GREAT  UNKNOWN.  By 

Andrew  Lang.  New  York :  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.  $3.00  net. 

This  last  book  of  Andrew  Lang  is  a  strong  defense  of  the 
Shakespearian  authorship  against  the  claims  of  Bacon  and  the 
Great  Unknown.  As  a  valiant  knight,  Lang  enters  the  lists  against 
Mr.  G.  G.  Greenwood,  a  man  "  worth  fighting,  cunning  of  fence, 
and  learned,"  and  therefore  worthy  of  his  steel.  The  theory  that 
Bacon  was  in  the  main  the  author  of  Shakespeare's  plays  has  been 
defended  for  the  last  forty  years  in  England  and  America,  as  the 
preface  tells  us,  "  by  methods,  logic,  and  hypotheses  closely  resem- 
bling those  applied  by  many  British  and  foreign  scholars  to  Homer, 
and  by  critics  of  the  very  highest  school  to  Holy  Writ.  Yet  the 
Baconian  theory  is  universally  rejected  in  England  by  the  professors 
and  historians  of  English  literature;  and  generally  by  students  who 
have  no  profession  save  that  of  Letters." 

Mr.  Greenwood,  his  opponent,  is  not  a  Baconian.  His  posi- 
tion is  merely  negative;  Shakespeare  is  not  the  author  of  the  plays 
and  poems.  Although  the  Baconian  theory  is  "  an  extremely  reas- 
onable one,"  and  "  serviceable  if  not  even  essential  "  to  his  argu- 
ment, he  never  commits  himself  to  any  positive  statement  regarding 
the  real  author. 

Lang  answers  all  the  arguments  of  Mr.  Greenwood  in  a  clear, 
concise  manner,  mercilessly  showing  forth  his  mistakes  of  fact, 
his  want  of  logic,  and  his  faults  of  interpretation.  He  proves 
that  Shakespeare  was  recognized  as  the  author  of  the  plays  that 
bear  his  name  by  Ben  Johnson,  Heywood,  Heminge,  and  Condell, 
the  actors,  all  contemporaries,  while  there  was  no  hint  given  of  any 
other  possible  author  until  1856,  "  when  the  twin  stars  of  Miss 
Delia  Bacon  and  Mr.  Smith  arose."  The  argument  drawn  from 
the  silence  of  Philip  Henslowe  is  met  by  the  common  sense  answer : 
"  Henslowe  records  no  loans  to  Shakespeare  the  actor,  because  he 
lent  him  no  money.  He  records  no  payments  for  plays  to  Shakes- 
peare, the  author-actor,  because  to  Henslowe  the  actor  sold  no 
plays."  The  so-called  impossible  argument,  viz.,  it  is  impossible 
that  the  bookless,  untutored  lad  of  Stratford  should  have  possessed 
the  wide,  deep,  and  accurate  scholarship  displayed  by  the  author 
of  the  plays,  he  meets  by  denying  the  evidence  of  any  deep  scholar- 
ship. While  Shakespeare  did  possess  some  of  the  lore  that  scholars 


406  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

did  possess,  he  did  not  use  his  knowledge  like  a  scholar.  He  makes 
the  second  syllable  in  Posthumus  long,  and  the  penultimate  syllable 
of  Andronicus  short.  He  calls  Delphi  "  Delphos  "  (a  non-existent 
word) ;  he  confuses  "  Delphos  "  with  Delos,  and  places  the  Delphian 
oracle  in  an  island.  In  the  same  play,  The  Winter's  Tale,  he 
makes  the  artist,  Giulio  Romani  (1492-1546)  contemporary  with 
the  flourishing  age  of  the  Pythian  Apollo.  No  man  who  knew  the 
foreign  politics  of  his  age  as  Bacon  did,  could  have  written  so 
extremely  eccentric  a  play  as  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

Lang's  view  is  that  Shakespeare  pickec^  up  his  "  small  Latin  " . 
as  a  boy  in  the  Stratford  school,  and  that  he  used  the  English 
translations  then  current.  If  Lucre ce  and  The  Comedy  of  Errors 
show  a  knowledge  of  Latin  texts  still  untranslated,  "  he  could  "  get 
a  construe  "  in  London,  or  help  in  reading,  from  a  more  academic 
acquaintance,  or  buy  a  construe  at  no  high  ransom  from  some  poor 
scholar."  The  Baconians  forgot  that  the  English  literature  of  his 
day  was  saturated  with  every  kind  of  classical  information. 

Most  of  his  knowledge  of  court  life  he  could  pick  up  in  the 
hundreds  of  plays  and  stories  published  in  his  time,  and  an  actor 
who  played  at  court  could  write  of  courtly  manners  without  ever 
having  been  a  courtier.  "  It  seems  scarcely  credible  that  men  should 
hold  that  only  a  Bacon,  intimately  familiar  with  the  society  of  the 
great,  could  make  the  great  speak  as  in  the  plays  they  do — and 
as  in  real  life  they  probably  did  not" 

So  our  brave  knight  goes  on,  breaking  through,  with  the  great- 
est ease,  all  the  weak  points  in  his  opponent's  armor,  until  at  last 
his  adversary  lies  dead  upon  the  field.  Every  lover  of  the  Swan 
of  Avon  will  read  with  the  greatest  pleasure  this  kindly  but  most 
effective  bit  of  controversy. 

CARDINAL  MANNING;  THE  DECAY  OF  IDEALISM  IN 
FRANCE;  THE  INSTITUTE  OF  FRANCE.  Three  Essays 
by  J.  E.  C.  Bodley.  New  York:  Longmans,  Green  &  Co. 
$3.00  net. 

We  are  glad  that  Mr.  Bodley  did  not  see  his  way  to  accept  Mr. 
Longman's  proposal  to  expand  this  gossipy  essay  into  a  monograph 
on  the  whole  career  of  Cardinal  Manning.  For  while  Monsignor 
Purcell  abused  his  trust  most  shamefully  by  the  mean  caricature  he 
drew,  Mr.  Bodley,  despite  his  absolute  confidence  in  himself,  which 
breathes  on  every  page,  is  to  our  mind  the  last  man  in  the  world  to 
attempt  so  delicate  and  difficult  a  task.  He  believes  in  the  first  place 
that  "  there  are  few  ecclesiastics  in  modern  times,  of  any  denomina- 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  407 

tion,  who  accept  the  creed  they  profess  without  some  mental  reserva- 
tion," and  proves  it  by  a  story  of  an  Eton  boy  "  of  whom  it  was  said 
that  he  would  make  an  admirable  clergyman,  if  he  were  not  so 
transparently  honest." 

Again  he  lacks  an  essential  quality  in  a  biographer  of  Manning, 
viz.,  a  perfect  understanding  of  the  character  of  Cardinal  Newman. 
On  the  contrary,  he  is  most  bitter  and  prejudiced.  So  much  so 
that  the  excellent  Life  of  Cardinal  Newman,  lately  published  by 
Wilfrid  Ward,  proves,  in  his  estimate,  Newman  to  be  "  the  most 
attractive  and  the  most  colossal  egoist  that  ever  lived — neither 
a  great  Englishman,  nor  a  great  Oxford  man,  nor  a  great  Catholic." 
What  a  pity  that  Ward  wrote  to  so  little  purpose ! 

Again,  he  has  read  Ward  so  superficially  that  he  never  realized 
that  Newman  went  over  to  the  Catholic  Church  the  very  instant 
his  conscience  told  him  he  could  no  longer  honestly  remain  in  the 
Church  of  England.  "  No,  he  was  dishonest,"  says  Mr.  Bodley, 
voicing  an  oft-repeated  calumny  that  a  certain  Apologia  answered 
years  ago  rather  effectively,  for  "  he  considered  that  he  was  jus- 
tified in  remaining  within  the  English  Church  for  some  years, 
while  his  teaching  was  sending  Oxford  men  over  to  Rome."  Is 
such  a  man  competent  to  handle  the  many  intricate  questions  that 
must  needs  come  up  in  a  biography  of  a  great  Catholic  ecclesiastic? 
We  are  very  skeptical  of  another  statement  of  Mr.  Bodley's,  viz., 
"  Manning  sincerely  believed  that  Newman  was  not  an  orthodox 
Catholic."  He  does  not  seem  to  grasp  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  freedom  allowed  in  the  Catholic  Church  to  thinkers, 
outside  the  field  of  defined  doctrine. 

The  essay  on  The  Decay  of  Idealism  in  France  is  more  in 
Mr.  Bodley's  line.  It  is  a  discussion,  "not  of  the  idealism  of  meta- 
physical philosophy,  but  the  idealism  of  every-day  life,  the  idealism 
of  the  man  on  the  boulevards,  of  the  peasant,  the  politician,  the 
journalist,  the  playwright,  and  also  of  the  philosopher  who  speaks 
the  language  of  the  people."  The  chief  reasons,  therefore,  which 
he  develops  are  the  general  pessimism  produced  by  the  Franco-Ger- 
man war,  and  the  particular  disillusion  of  sanguine  republicans,  who 
failed  to  find  the  Utopia  of  their  dreams  in  the  Third  Republic; 
the  influence  of  the  characterless  modern  press,  which  is  creating  a 
mentality  devoid  of  distinctivcHess ;  the  dulcet  inconoclasm  of  writ- 
ers like  Renan  and  the  withering  nihilism  of  moderns  like  Ana- 
tole  France,  to  whom  no  ideals  have  ever  been  sacred ;  the  displace- 
ment of  the  classics  in  the  modern  French  system  of  education  by 
subjects  deemed  more  serviceable;  and  finally  the  blighting  effect 


4o8  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

of  this  mechanical  age,  which,  in  changing  all  the  conditions  of 
human  life,  is  changing  human  nature  itself.  It  is  a  thoughtful 
paper,  but  a  little  too  dogmatic  in  its  utterances.  We  could  imagine 
Rene  Doumic  writing  a  counter  thesis  on  Contemporary  French 
Idealism,  and  making  out  a  fairly  good  case.  But,  of  course,  this 
would  be  at  once  condemned  by  our  pessimistic  Mr.  Bodley  as 
heretical. 

The  third  essay  on  The  Institute  of  France  gives  a  brief  but 
entertaining  account  of  the  five  Academies  of  which  the  Institute 
is  composed. 

RELIGIOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.     By 

Pierre  de  la  Gorce.     Paris:    Plon-Nourrit  &   Co.     2   Vols. 

i$frs. 

The  eminent  French  jurist,  Pierre  de  la  Gorce,  is  well  known 
in  France  by  his  History  of  the  Second  French  Republic  (2  vols.) 
and  his  History  of  the  Second  Empire  (7  vols.).  In  his  Religious 
History  of  the  French  Revolution,  he  purposes  to  give  a  complete 
picture  of  the  Catholic  laity  and  clergy  of  France  from  the  first 
days  of  the  Revolution  until  the  restoration  of  peace  under  the 
First  Consul  (1789-1801).  He  has  just  completed  the  second 
volume  of  this  projected  work. 

Volume  I.  deals  with  the  period  dating  from  the  opening  of 
the  States  General  until  the  end  of  the  Constituent  Assembly. 
During  it  the  Catholic  Church  lost  all  its  property  and  its  privi- 
leges, the  religious  orders  were  prohibited  by  law,  and  the  schismatic 
Civil  Constitution  of  the  clergy  was  enacted,  which  caused  untold 
harm  to  religion  for  years. 

Volume  II.  deals  with  the  laws  of  proscription  passed  in  the 
Legislative  Assembly,  and  perfected  by  the  Convention.  By  these 
decrees  the  priests  loyal  to  the  Holy  See  were  deprived  of  their 
citizenship,  declared  suspect,  and  arbitrarily  punished  by  either  exile 
or  imprisonment.  The  most  thrilling  pages  of  these  two  volumes 
are  those  that  describe  the  cruel  massacres  of  September,  and  the 
heroic  but  hopeless  fight  made  by  the  peasants  of  La  Vendee  for 
their  faith.  The  author  says  in  his  preface  that  some  critics  may 
think  that  he  paints  the  Revolution  in  too  dark  colors.  But  he 
declares  that  he  aims  to  write  objectively,  without  passion  and 
without  prejudice,  although  not  with  that  impartiality  which  is  born 
of  indifference.  He  says  well :  "  In  giving  an  account  of  the  trials 
through  which  our  Christian  forefathers  passed,  my  heart  feels 
keenly  the  suffering  they  underwent  for  the  Church  of  God." 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  409 

He  has  purposely  refrained  from  comparing  the  policy  of 
persecution  inaugurated  by  the  present  French  Republic  to  the 
persecution  in  the  days  of  '89.  He  wishes  his  readers  to  draw 
their  own  lessons.  • 

VERSES    AND    REVERSES.     By    Wilfrid    Meynell.     London: 

Herbert  and  Daniel.     50  cents. 

It  is  seldom  enough  that  a  volume  of  so  charmingly  playful 
an  intimacy  as  these  Verses  and  Reverses  flutters  out  to  the  world 
of  general  readers.  The  little  book  was  privately  printed  some  two 
or  three  years  back  for  Mr.  Meynell's  own  family  and  a  group  of 
fortunate  friends :  now  importunity  has  given  it  to  the  larger 
if  less  personal  public.  Its  pages  abound  in  the  gently  whimsical; 
they  are  rich  in  epigram,  in  pun  and  paradox,  in  tender  reminis- 
cence, and  in  a  philosophy  of  life  and  love  profound  enough  to 
suffer  no  whit  from  the  self -assumed  motley. 

The  lines  To  Gilbert  Chesterton,  or — better  still — To  George 
Meredith  in  Old  Age — are,  in  their  unique  field,  classics;  and  we 
of  cis- Atlantic  affiliation  (somewhat  given,  alas!  to  the  fault  of 
experimental  conjugality!)  must  rejoice  in  the  wit  and  wisdom  of 
that  delicious  arraignment,  United  States.  But  here,  under  the 
quaint,  Southwellian  title,  A  Christian  Comforter,  is  a  fragment 
that  gives  pause — a  fragment  redolent  with  the  remembered  per- 
fume of  Patmore's  mystic  philosophy : 

"  A  waverer,  Lord,  am  I,"  saith  one — 

"  Here,  there,  I  run." 
"  My  messenger  be  thou,  to  tell 

Of  heaven  to  hell." 
"  How  little  love,  O  Lord,  I  feel— 

My  heart  is  steel." 
"  But  I  the  Magnet  am,"  saith  He, 

"And  steel's  for  Me." 
"  Ah,  Lord,  I  lean  with  love  on  man 

Whene'er  I  can." 
"  Who  clings  to  man,  My  proxy,  he 

Clings  so  to  Me." 

Those  who  know  Mr.  Wilfrid  Meynell  only  as  critic  and 
editor — as  primal  friend  and  literary  executor  of  Francis  Thomp- 
son— or,  perchance,  in  his  charming  but  self-effacing  biographical 
work,  will  be  richly  repaid  for  seizing  the  opportunity  of  closer 
approach  in  these  delectable  pages.  "  If,"  he  himself  says  by  way 
of  introduction  to  his  "game  of  words:"  "If  I  have  not  been 


410  NEW  BOOKS  [June, 

at  pains  to  separate  the  intended  sprightly  from  the  intended  grave, 
it  is  because  I  have  little  love  of  such  barriers;  nor  does  the  hand  of 
fate  observe  such  partitioning  when  it  deals  out  to  us  blindly  the 
good  and  bad  cards  —  whereof  we  build  our  House  of  Life.'* 

IN    THE    LEAN    YEARS.     By    Felicia    Curtis.     St.    Louis:     B. 

Herder.     $1.60  net. 

When  Under  the  Rose  appeared  and  presented  itself  as,  to 
our  best  knowledge,  the  first  attempt  of  the  author,  Felicia  Curtis, 
we  noted  it  as  one  of  the  finest  historical  novels  of  recent  years. 
Its  successor,  now  published  under  the  title,  In  the  Lean  Years, 
deserves  just  as  hearty  praise.  Its  setting  is  England  under  the 
second  George,  when  the  Catholics  were  hated  and  banned,  and 
when,  as  indeed  happens  in  the  story,  a  younger  son  could,  by 
taking  the  oaths  of  the  Established  Church,  seize  his  dead  father's 
property  and  disinherit  his  Catholic  elder  brother.  The  hero  and 
heroine  of  the  tale  are  Catholics  and  Jacobites,  and  in  their  hot 
enthusiasm  for  the  forlorn  Stuart  cause  they  revive  in  us  all  that 
romantic  fervor  that  fired  our  blood  when  we  first  read  Scott. 

The  author  certainly  knows  how  to  write  a  tale  of  adventure, 
intrigue,  and  excitement;  besides  which  she  here  gives  us  two  love 
themes  of  real  interest,  and  a  picture  of  eighteenth  century  life 
that  is  both  complete  and  vivid. 


most  serviceable  apologetic  work  on  all  matters  that  con- 
cern  Catholic  faith  and  doctrine  is  the  Dictionnaire  Apologeti- 
que  de  la  Fol  Catholique,  now  being  published  by  Gabriel  Beau- 
chesne  of  Paris,  France.  The  energetic  publishers  are  counting 
neither  cost  nor  time  in  the  execution  of  this  monumental  work. 
Some  years  have  passed  since  the  publication  of  the  first  fasciculus 
or  part,  and  only  the  ninth  part,  which  goes  as  far  as  the  "  Instruc- 
tion of  Youth  "  under  the  letter  I,  has  so  far  been  published. 
All  who  read  French,  and  particularly  priests,  will  find  in 
these  volumes  the  readiest  and  most  practical  help  in  explaining 
the  doctrines  of  our  holy  Faith;  in  setting  forth  the  positive 
proofs  of  religion,  and  answering  the  many  modern  difficulties 
that  have  sprung  from  the  material  sciences.  No  matter  of  im- 
portance that  touches  even  remotely  upon  the  history,  teaching, 
and  discipline  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  neglected,  and  to  all  are 
given  a  thoroughness  and  completeness  of  treatment  that  bring 
the  inquirer  in  touch  with  the  best  sources  and  the  surest  findings. 
We  heartily  recommend  the  work,  and  will  continue  to  call  it 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  411 

to  the  attention  of  our  readers  as  other  portions  of  it  come  from 
the  press.     (Price,  5  frs.  per  part.) 

DARTLY  because  of  the  recent  anti-alien  enactments  of  Cali- 
fornia and  their  far-reaching  consequences,  the  Japanese  are 
a  much-discussed  people  to-day.  There  will  be  interest,  therefore, 
in  a  very  solid,  practical  little  book  called  Our  Neighbors:  The 
Japanese.  (Chicago:  F.  G.  Browne  &  Co.  $1.25  net.)  Written 
by  Joseph  King  Goodrich,  it  deals  with  the  religion,  education, 
customs,  and  divisions  of  the  Japanese,  and  gives  its  information 
thoroughly  and  carefully. 

OLD  CHINA  AND  YOUNG  AMERICA,  by  Sarah  Pike  Conger 
(Chicago:  F.  G.  Browne  &  Co.  75  cents),  is  intended  for 
children.  Its  first  half  comprises  little  stories  of  things  and  people 
Chinese;  Mrs.  Conger,  as  wife  of  the  Minister  to  China,  became, 
of  course,  familiar  with  that  country,  and  writes  of  it  entertainingly. 
The  second  half  of  the  book  is  made  up  of  patriotic  and  moral 
sermons  of  the  Protestant  Sunday-school  type. 

'THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST,  by  Frances  Nimmo 
*  Greene  (New  York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  $1.35  net), 
is  a  romance  of  the  mountains  of  Alabama.  Its  theme  is  the 
problem  of  education  and  of  commercial  progress  as  opposed  to 
tradition  and  the  rights  of  the  individual;  its  plot  is  full  of  ex- 
citement; and  its  characters  are  well  drawn,  particularly  the  rural 
potentate  and  philosopher,  Uncle  Beck. 

A  CHARMING  little  volume  for  the  nursery  is  The  Princess 
*"*•  and  the  Goblin.  (Philadelphia:  J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.  50 
cents  net.)  One  of  the  prettiest  of  Hans  Andersen's  fairy  tales, 
we  have  it  here  in  George  Macdonald's  version,  as  simplified  by 
Elizabeth  Lewis,  and  illustrated  very  daintily  in  color. 

WILLIAM  DANA  ORCUTT,  known  as  a  novelist,  has  taken 
a  new  pen  for  this  pretty  little  tale,  which  he  calls  The  Ma- 
donna of  Sacrifice.  (Chicago:  F.  G.  Browne  &  Co.)  Its  setting 
is  Florence,  and  its  theme  the  passionate  devotion  of  a  little,  con- 
sumptive serving-boy  to  a  valuable  and  famous  painting  belonging 
to  his  master,  and  called  the  "  Madonna  of  Sacrifice."  It  is 
charmingly  told,  and  is  published  as  a  gift-book. 


jpenoMcals. 


The  Penalties  of  Excommunication.  By  Rev.  Herbert  Thurs- 
ton.  The  counsel  for  the  plaintiff  in  the  recent  action  of  Mathew 
vs.  The  Times  made  great  capital  out  of  the  damage  likely  to  be 
done  his  client  by  the  Papal  sentence  of  excommunication.  Father 
David  Fleming's  exposition  of  the  leniency  of  the  approved  can- 
onical teaching  at  the  present  day  was  received  with  evident  in- 
credulity. But  even  at  the  height  of  Papal  authority  canonists 
recognized  many  causes  which  excused,  even  from  the  slightest 
fault,  those  who  held  social  relations  with  the  excommunicated 
person.  Hollweck  says  :  "  I  believe  that  at  the  present  day  our 
judgment  concerning  all  these  matters  must  be  emphatically  a 
lenient  one.  As  long  as  in  such  intercourse  there  is  no  indication 
of  a  flippant  disregard  of  ecclesiastical  prohibitions,  there  can  be 
no  question  of  grievous  sin  in  transgressing  them,  and  as  long  as 
there  is  some  definite  reason  for  such  conduct  we  must  exclude 
even  the  idea  of  venial  sin."  —  The  Month,  March. 

A  Successful  Catholic  Experiment  in  India.  By  Saint  Nihal 
Singh.  In  the  Sialkot  district  of  the  province  of  the  Punjab, 
an  out-of-the-way  corner  of  Hindustan,  an  experiment  in  trans- 
forming densely-ignorant,  poverty-stricken,  dirty,  down-trodden 
humanity  into  capable,  conscientious  citizens,  possessing  an  assured 
economic  position,  and  quickened  with  high  spiritual  and  moral 
ideals,  is  being  carried  on  by  the  Belgian  Franciscan  Fathers.  In 
1892  three  families  were  chosen  to  make  the  purchased  site  habit- 
able; the  first  settlement  was  named  Maryabad,  "  Mary's  Village." 
After  untold  hardships  from  heat,  disease,  suspicion  on  the  part 
of  the  natives,  a  completely  organized  town  has  been  laid  out, 
and  a  moral  and  economic  transformation  worked  in  the  inhabit- 
ants. In  1900  the  local  government  granted  the  Mission  2,376 
acres  for  about  half  a  crown  per  acre,  levied  to  cover  the  cost 
of  laying  water  channels.  A  new  settlement,  Khushpur,  was 
founded  which  numbers  1,450  people.  In  Maryabad  the  Mission 
own  the  land,  leasing  it  to  the  converts;  in  Khushpur  the  govern- 
ment reserves  proprietary  rights,  granting  only  occupancy  rights, 
which,  however,  descend  from  father  to  son.  The  Bishop  of 
Lahore  is  officially  recognized  as  headman  of  Khushpur.  In  spirit- 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  413 

ual  and  educational  affairs,  both  settlements  are  organized  like  any 
Catholic  parish  in  the  Occident. — Dublin  Review,  April. 

The  Catholic  Party  in  the  Netherlands.  By  Lady  Dorothy 
Acton.  "  The  impression  left  by  Dutch  Catholicism  on  the  mind  of 
the  writer  almost  approaches  an  ideal  picture."  Especially  since 
the  restoration  of  the  hierarchy  in  1853  has  the  progress  of  the 
Church  been  marked.  Between  1830  and  1900  some  five  hundred 
new  churches  are  said  to  have  been  built,  and  one  hundred  and 
fifty  enlarged,  at  a  cost  of  five  hundred  millions  of  florins,  and  this 
although  the  Dutch  Catholics  are  predominantly  of  the  peasant  and 
shop-keeping  class.  In  politics  they  have  formed  an  alliance  with 
the  Anti-Revolutionary  Party,  led  by  Dr.  Kuyper,  which  though 
essentially  Calvinist,  is  with  the  Catholics  as  against  the  Liberals, 
especially  on  the  education  question.  The  great  victories  of  this 
alliance  occurred  in  the  elections  of  1887  and  1909.  In  the  latter 
election  the  Catholics  had  twenty-five  out  of  a  hundred  members 
in  the  Second  Chamber,  and  in  1910  held  eighteen  out  of  fifty 
seats  in  the  First  Chamber.  Their  leader,  until  his  death  in  1903, 
was  Abbe  Schaepman.  Their  social  and  philanthropic  organiza- 
tions are  strong;  their  obedience  to  the  Episcopate  and  the  Holy 
See  unswerving :  their  programme  the  reconstruction  of  society  on 
a  Christian  basis;  their  policy  frankly  democratic. — Dublin  Re- 
view, April. 

The  Saturday  Half-Holiday.  By  Charles  Calippe.  A  rest 
from  work  immediately  preceding  the  Sunday  rest  was  early  guar- 
anteed to  slaves,  as  we  see  from  the  Apostolic  Constitutions,  that 
compilation  of  religious  laws  published  in  the  fourth  or  fifth  cen- 
tury, but  originating  much  earlier;  the  purpose  was  to  secure  the 
giving  of  religious  instruction.  In  the  Middle  Ages  a  similar 
reduction  of  hours  of  work  obtained  on  every  Saturday  and  on 
some  twenty  vigils  of  feasts ;  the  reduction  varied  according  to  the 
trade  and  the  season.  The  same  practice  endured  in  England 
until  the  industrial  revolution  of  the  early  nineteenth  century. 
The  Saturday  half-holiday  now  obtains  in  the  United  States,  Eng- 
land, France,  Germany,  Switzerland,  Holland,  and  Australia.  Its 
real  purpose  is  to  insure  a  full  day's  rest  on  Sunday,  and  it  is 
thus  a  social  and  semi-religious  institution.  The  practice  was  in- 
troduced into  France  in  1879  by  a  Catholic  employer  of  Roanne, 
M.  Grenot,  influenced  by  a  conversation  with  Pius  IX. ;  and  Count 


414  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [June, 

de  Mun  has,  from  1886  to  1911,  urged  laws  to  secure  this  rest,  but 
thus  far  his  propositions  have  not  been  adopted. — Revue  du  Clerge 
Frangais,  May  i. 

Toleration.  By  Gustave  Neyron.  The  ideal  of  the  Church  is 
naturally  the  supremacy  of  the  one  true  religion.  But  she  does  not 
intend  to  strive  for  this  end  by  intrigue  or  violence,  but  by  charity, 
patience,  truth,  and  high  morality.  Even  were  she  supreme,  she 
would  recognize  the  freedom  of  conscience  among  non-Catholics, 
and  merely  suppress  open  crimes  against  religion.  To  prove  this 
the  author  quotes  from  the  staunchest  defenders  of  the  Church's 
rights,  and  the  most  determined  opponents  of  Liberalism,  such  as 
Bonald,  Manning,  Cardinal  Pie,  and  especially  Louis  Veuillot,  and 
Leo  XIII.,  contrasting  the  mildness  of  their  language  and  the 
breadth  of  their  views  with  the  narrowness  and  intolerance  of 
Luther  and  Eugene  Mayer. — Etudes,  April  5. 

Trouble  in  Algiers.  By  Commandant  Davin.  France  for  the 
past  century  has  been  mistress  of  Algiers,  and  it  has  been  causing 
her  of  late  no  little  worriment.  Hundreds  of  native  families  have 
been  leaving  Algiers  for  other  Mussulman  regions  such  as  Egypt 
or  Syria.  One  reason  for  this  exodus  is  the  Pan-Islamism  move- 
ment which  has  been  going  on  in  India,  Egypt,  Persia,  Arabia,  etc. 
But  the  principal  reason  is  the  maladministration,  of  the  gov- 
ernors appointed  by  France.  In  the  Governor's  hands  lies  all 
power  in  connection  with  the  natives,  such  as  casting  them  into 
prison  without  trial  and  excessive  taxation.  The  writer  of  the 
article  ends  it  by  instructions  and  a  plea  for  a  more  just  govern- 
ment of  the  country. — Le  Correspondent,  April  10. 

The  Tablet  (April  19):  "Down  Tools"  in  Belgium  deals 
with  the  general  strike  promoted  by  the  Socialists  not  for  "  eco- 
nomic gain,  but  to  secure  a  change  in  the  conditions  of  franchise." 
At  the  last  election  the  Catholic  party  secured  a  large  majority  of 
the  votes,  so  the  Socialists  desire  a  change  that  will  enable  them 
to  control.  The  strike  is  the  means  to  obtain  this,  but  it  is  a 
failure,  "  because  it  has  only  a  minority  at  its  back." 

(April  26) :  Frederick  Ozanam:  A  short  consideration  of 
this  celebrated  Frenchman's  work  as  a  Christian  apologist  in  the 
schools  of  France  and  as  founder  of  the  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  Society. 
In  another  column  the  letter  of  Cardinal  Merrv  del  Val  for  the 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  415 

Holy  Father  to  the  Archbishop  of  Lyons  on  the  occasion  of  the 

Ozanam    centenary    celebration    is    published.- A    Monumental 

Edition  of  the  "Divine  Comedy:"  Attention  is  directed  to  the  new 
edition  of  Dante's  work  by  Leo  S.  Olschki  of  Florence  (limited 
to  three  hundred  copies).  The  ever-increasing  appreciation  of 
Dante  receives  consideration;  from  1801  to  the  end  of  1911  no 
fewer  than  three  hundred  and  twenty-five  editions  have  been  pub- 
lished in  every  part  of  the  world. Literary  Notes:  The  greatest 

of  Holland's  poets,  Joost  van  den  Vondel,  is  the  subject  of  these 
notes.  Born  a  Baptist,  he  became  a  Catholic  at  a  time  when  such 
a  move  brought  him  poverty  and  contempt,  as  nine-tenths  of  the 
Hollanders  were  then  Protestant.  His  Lucifer  has  been  compared 
with  Paradise  Lost. 

The  Month  (March)  :  W.  Randolph,  in  Modern  Ugli- 
ness and  Its  Meaning,  deplores  the  loss  of  beauty  in  modern  art. 
"Ugliness  and  worthlessness  in  human  handiwork  of  whatever  order 
was,  until  the  age  almost  immediately  preceding  our  own,  a  phe- 
nomenon practically  unknown.  The  special  force  of  these  facts 
as  to  bygone  beauty  and  modern  ugliness  lies  in  their  moral  and 

social  significance decay  and  deformity  in  man's  handiwork 

is  a  sign  of  sickness  in  the  body  politic." 

The  Church  Quarterly  Review  (April)  :  E.  Wordsworth  eu- 
logizes St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  dwelling  on  the  biographies  by  Father 

Cuthbert    and    Miss    Grierson. The  Religious  Philosophy  of 

Rudolf  Eucken  is  treated  by  the  Rev.  A.  Caldecott. 

Dublin  Review  (April)  :   Wilfrid  Ward  gives  a  second  paper 

on   Moneypenny's   Life    of   Disraeli. Louise    Imogen    Guiney 

writes  on  Epitaphs,  Catholic  and  Catholic-Minded,  especially  since 
the  Reformation,  showing  how  an  instinctive  belief  in  Purgatory 
and  prayers  for  the  dead  has  made  Anglicans  defy  their  own 

formularies. J.  F.  Scheltema  writes  of  Music  in  Moslem  Spain. 

Canon  William  Barry,  praising  Monsignor  Ward's  magnum 

opus,  dwells  on  the  incidents  leading  to  Catholic  Emancipation,  and 

especially  on  O'Connell's  part  in  securing  it. In  The  Rheims 

Version  of  the  New  Testament,  Father  Hugh  Pope,  O.P.,  declares 
that  our  text  of  the  Old  Testament  demands  revision,  and  appeals 
for  this  even  before  the  completion  of  the  revision  of  the  Cle- 
mentine Vulgate  now  going  on. 


416  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [June, 

Le  Correspondent  (April  10)  :  An  Austrian  under  the  pen 
name  of  Schwarz  Gelb,  defends  Austria's  attitude  in  the  Balkan 
war. —P.  .de  Nolhac  gives  a  sketch  of  Andre  Le  Notre,  the  archi- 
tect of  the  palace  of  Versailles. 

(April  25)  :  The  Catholic  Church,  both  by  her  preachers, and 
her  writers,  has  been  proclaiming  the  danger  to  a  nation  from 
divorce  and  other  social  diseases.  M.  Henry  Bordeaux  has  made 

this  the  problem  in  three  of  his  books. George  Fonsgrieve  treats 

of  his  work,  and  particularly  of  his  latest  volume,  The  Home. 

L.  Jenouvrier  discusses  the  decline  of  the  birth-rate  throughout 
France,  which  is  causing  such  great  uneasiness. 

Etudes  (April  20)  :  Abbe  J.  Riviere,  whose  book  on  The 
Dogma  of  the  Redemption  was  so  well  received  some  eight  years 
ago,  has  recently  argued  that  the  ideas  of  ransom,  sacrifice,  and 
penal  expiation  are  metaphorical,  and  should  be  avoided.  Adhemar 
d'Ales  undertakes  to  show  that  these  Biblical  and  patristic  notions 
contribute  a  measure  of  truth  to  the  understanding  of  this  mystery 

which  cannot  safely  be  overlooked. Yves  de  la  Briere  discusses 

the  writing  and  conferences  of  R.  P.  Ambrose  Matignon,  S.J.,  who 
died  on  March  loth  last.  His  essays,  published  in  the  Etudes 
from  1859  to  1871,  dealt  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Society  on  liberty, 
Papal  Infallibility,  and  the  moral  regeneration  of  France. 
The  writer  defends  him  from  the  charge  of  liberalism,  but  con- 
siders him  to  have  been  too  indulgent  towards  certain  Liberals 
like  Montalembert,  and  too  harsh  towards  Veuillot. 

Etudes  Franciscaines   (May)  :     S.   Belmond   defends   Scotus 

against  the  attacks  of  Father  Lagrange,  O.P.,  and  M.  Vacant. 

H.  Matrod  begins  a  description  of  the  conquest  of  Germany  by  the 
Friars  Minor,  under  Blessed  Caesar  of  Spires,  from  1221  to  1238. 

Jacopone  de  Todi  as  a  Popular  Preacher  is  the  subject  of 

a  study  by  Jules  Pacheu. P.  Exupere  eulogizes  a  recent  volume, 

Religious  Policy,  written  by  Charles  Mauras,  an  agnostic  and  pos- 
itivist,  in  praise  of  the  Church,  and  urging  her  support  by  the  State. 


IRecent  Events. 

The  Barthou  Ministry  is  still  maintaining  an 

France.  existence  which  from  its  very  beginning  was 

looked  upon  as  extremely  precarious.     That 

it  has  lasted  so  long  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Parliament 
has  been  having  a  long  recess.  The  proposed  increase  to  three 
years  for  service  in  the  army,  rendered  necessary  by  the  large  addi- 
tions to  the  peace  standing  of  the  German  Army,  was  received 
at  first  almost  with  enthusiasm.  Further  reflection,  however,  has 
developed,  somewhat  serious  opposition.  Not  only  have  the  Col- 
lective Socialists,  who  are  led  by  M.  Jaures,  made  counter-proposals 
which  involve  serious  modifications  of  those  of  the  government; 
but  similar  proposals  have  been  made  by  such  influential  members 
as  M.  Joseph  Reinach  and  M.  de  Montebello.  The  Extreme  Rad- 
icals, too,  who  were  expected  to  support  the  present  Ministry,  have 
joined  the  opposition.  It  seems  quite  certain  that  even  if  carried, 
considerable  modifications  will  be  made  in  the  proposals  of  the 
government. 

Among  the  difficulties  attached  to  the  proposed  change  is  that 
even  at  present  there  is  a  great  dearth  of  officers,  the  number 
of  candidates  for  the  two  military  schools  of  Saint  Cyr  and  Saint 
Maixent  has  diminished  almost  by  fifty  per  cent.  Officers  are 
resigning  every  year  in  order  to  take  posts  in  private  industrial 
establishments.  The  government  proposes  as  a  remedy  for  this  evil 
to  introduce  a  bill  to  increase  the  pay  of  officers.  The  reasons  for 
the  opposition  of  the  Extreme  Radicals  to  the  Three  Years'  Service 
Bill  is  fear  on  their  part  that  the  army  will  become  an  instrument 
of  social  reaction.  The  soldiers,  it  is  thought,  will  lose  touch  with 
the  people.  The  reactionaries,  it  is  said,  are  trying  to  make  use  of 
the  patriotism  of  the  country  in  furtherance  of  their  own  political 
objects.  The  requirements  of  national  defense  can  be  better  sat- 
isfied by  a  more  rigorous  application  of  the  Two  Years'  Service 
Bill. 

The  opposition  has  become  so  strong  that  M.  Jaures  predicts 
that  the  government's  proposals  will  be  defeated.  Other  opponents 
are  not  so  sanguine.  While  in  Germany  there  have  been  certain 
organs  in  the  Press  who  have  asserted  that  France  was  the  cause 
of  the  German  increase  of  her  own  army,  the  German  Chancellor 
has  recognized  that  there  is  nothing  provocative  in  the  recent  pro- 
posal of  the  French  government.  There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that 

VOL.   XCVII. — 27. 


418  RECENT  EVENTS  [June, 

there  has  recently  been  a  great  revival  of  enthusiasm  for  the 
army  in  France,  and  that  immense  progress  has  been  made  in  its 
training,  equipment,  and  alertness.  This  improvement  is  largely 
due  to  the  action  of  Germany  in  Morocco  in  1911,  which  brought 
home  to  the  French  people  the  necessity  of  being  prepared  for  the 
worst. 

The  religious  ceremonies  and  processions  which  have  been  held 
annually  at  Orleans  for  four  hundred  and  forty-eight  years,  with 
only  two  breaks,  in  celebration  of  the  raising  of  the  siege  of  that 
city  by  Joan  of  Arc,  will  not  be  held  this  year,  because  the  Mayor 
insisted  upon  imposing  upon  the  clergy,  who  would  have  taken 
part,  conditions  which  the  Bishop  considered  to  be  humiliating. 

France  has  acted  in  unison  with  Europe  in  the  endeavor  to 
keep  the  peace  that  has  been  so  much  endangered  by  the  occurrences 
in  the  Balkans.  These  events,  in  the  view  of  the  French  Premier, 
have  suddenly  disturbed  the  old  balance  of  power,  and  have  raised 
new  problems.  The  defeat  of  Turkey  has  disconcerted  diplomacy, 
and  it  has  now  to  find  new  bearings.  During  the  past  six  months, 
France  has  done  its  duty  to  Europe.  But  notwithstanding  all 
their  best  efforts  for  the  maintenance  of  peace,  no  one  could  say 
that  it  was  sheltered  from  all  peril.  The  government,  therefore, 
would  stake  its  existence  upon  the  bill  for  three  years'  service 
being  passed  without  any  change  that  would  affect  its  vital  prin- 
ciple. Moreover,  it  had  decided  to  keep  with  the  colors  for  a 
further  period  the  men  whose  two  years'  term  will  expire  next 
October. 

The  Entente  Cordiale  with  Great  Britain  is  to  receive  a  fresh 
endorsement  by  the  visit  of  M.  Poincare  to  London.  King 
Alfonso's  visit  to  Paris  has  manifested  the  good  relations  which 
exist  between  France  and  Spain,  although  vehement  protests  were 
made  by  Syndicalists  and  Anarchists  in  Paris  against  receiving  the 
visit.  Ferrer's  execution  has  not  been  forgotten. 

The  bill  for  increasing  the  peace  strength 
Germany.  of  the  army,  and  the  bills  for  raising  the 

funds  thereby  rendered  necessary,  have  been 

the  chief  subject  of  discussion  in  Germany.  The  first  of  these 
bills  has  been  under  the  consideration  of  the  Budget  Committee, 
by  which  most  of  the  proposals  of  the  government  have  been 
acceptedi.  The  Committee,  however,  refused  to  grant  the  six 
new  regiments  of  cavalry  demanded,  and  brought  the  number  down 
to  \hree.  Certain  other  proposals  have  still  to  be  discussed. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  419 

The  Imperial  Chancellor,  Herr  von  Bethmann  Hollweg,  in  his 
statement  on  the  opening  of  the  discussion  in  the  Reichstag,  justified 
the  demands  of  the  government  by  alleging  that  they  were,  "  neces- 
sary in  order  to  secure  the  future  of  Germany."  No  man,  he  said, 
could  know  whether  and  when  there  would  be  a  war  in 
Europe.  A  new  situation  had  arisen,  due  to  the  war  in 
the  Balkans.  The  place  of  an  impotent  and  passive  Turkey  had 
been  taken  by  States  which  had  exhibited  a  quite  extraordinary 
active  vitality.  These  States  were  Slavs  in  race,  and  not  friendly, 
to  say  the  least,  to  those  of  German  descent.  A  conflict  might  arise 
between  Slaventum  and  Germanentiim,  and  it  was,  therefore,  the 
duty  of  the  German  Empire  to  be  prepared;  the  more  so  because 
its  ally,  Austria-Hungary,  had  suffered  greatly  from  the  same 
cause.  The  German  element  in  the  Dual  Monarchy  had  been 
weakened,  while  the  Slav  had  received  an  immense  accession  of 
strength.  There  was,  however,  no  intention  on  the  part  of  Ger- 
many to  stir  up  a  war. 

Towards  France  the  Empire  cherished  equally  peaceful  inten- 
tions. There  were  in  France,  however,  the  Chancellor  said,  large 
circles  not  only  of  Chauvinists,  but  of  the  quieter  and  thinking 
people,  who  believed  that  the  French  were  now  at  least  equal,  if 
not  superior  to  Germany,  and  had  full  confidence  "  in  the  excellence 
of  their  own  army,  in  the  alliance  with  Russia,,  and  perhaps  also 
in  the  hope  of  England."  Some  even  boasted  of  the  superior  train- 
ing of  the  French  soldier,  and  of  the  French  artillery,  and  saw 
visions  of  Germany  overrun  by  masses  of  Russian  infantry  and 
cavalry.  The  defeats  of  Turkey  were  looked  upon  as  defeats  of 
the  Germans.  Therefore  it  was  the  clear  duty  of  Germany,  wedged 
in  as  she  was  between  the  Slav  world  and  the  French,  without 
any  well-defined  boundaries  capable  of  affording  a  natural  defense, 
to  have  an  army  large  enough  to  make  herself  so  fully  respected  that 
she  need  fear  no  attack.  The  army  bill  was  presented,  not  because 
Germany  wanted  war,  but  because  she  wanted  peace. 

The  Chancellor's  view  of  the  attitude  of  the  French  people, 
although  itself  exaggerated,  is  moderation  itself  compared  with 
the  misrepresentations  of  that  attitude  made  by  a  part  of  the  German 
Press.  These  organs  for  the  promotion  of  ill-will  between  the 
two  countries,  represent  France  as  the  real  enemy,  and  as  seething 
with  hatred  of  Germany;  its  only  reason,  they  say,  for  not  making 
war  is  the  lack  of  courage.  The  more  responsible  among  the  organs 
of  public  opinion  in  Germany,  as  well  of  the  government,  have  re- 
buked this  attitude,  but  certain  incidents  which  have  taken  place  have 


420  RECENT  EVENTS  [June, 

tended  to  inflame  warlike  feelings,  and  the  notice  taken  of  them  in- 
dicates a  certain  tension  among  sections,  more  or  less  large,  of  people 
in  the  two  countries.  At  two  places,  Luneville  and  Arracourt, 
German  military  airships,  containing  officers,  made  a  descent  upon 
French  territory,  and  caused  no  little  excitement — in  Germany, 
because  *of  the  reception  met  with  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants; 
and  in  France  on  account  of  the  suspicion  of  the  objects  of  the 
visit.  Satisfactory  explanations,  however,  were  made  by  the  au- 
thorities on  both  sides.  The  French  people  consoled  themselves 
with  the  thought  that  the  descent  was  due  to  the  fact  that  German 
officers  had  not  yet  become  skillful  steerers;  that  an  opportunity 
had  been  given  them  to  learn  the  secrets  of  the  New  Zeppelin 
tended  to  afford  them  a  further  degree  of  satisfaction. 

A  more  serious  incident  occurred  at  Nancy.  Some  German 
visitors  to  that  city  were  jeered  at  by  certain  students,  and  hustled 
at  the  railway  station.  The  French  government  at  once  instituted 
an  investigation,  and  having  discovered  the  fact  that  the  local 
authorities  had  not  fully  fulfilled  the  duty  of  protecting  the  strang- 
ers, relieved  of  his  duties  the  Prefect  of  the  Department,  for  failing 
to  report  the  incident,  transferred  to  other  posts  two  of  the  chief 
officials  of  the  Nancy  police,  and  dismissed  the  policemen  in  charge 
at  the  station.  The  local  authorities  prohibited  the  performance 
of  the  patriotic  melodrama  which  had  excited  the  feelings  of  the 
students;  this  prohibition,  however,  was  not  persisted  in.  These 
events  indicate,  indeed,  the  existence  of  strong  feelings  of  animosity 
in  certain  sections.  They  do  not,  however,  affect  the  whole  of  the 
people;  still  less  do  they  represent  the  deliberate  purpose  of  either 
government. 

The  economic  evils  with  which  this  country  has  been  afflicted, 
owing  to  the  selfish  greed  of  the  trusts,  protected,  as  they  have 
been  by  certain  provisions  of  the  Constitution,  have  occasioned 
much  anxiety  to  those  who  seek  the  well-being  of  the  common- 
wealth. Certain  revelations  made  in  Germany,  however,  will,  if 
proved  to  be  true,  make  it  clear  that  no  form  of  government  is 
capable  itself  of  protecting  the  people  from  the  depredations  of 
organized  capital.  If  there  is  one  institution  in  the  hands  of 
private  persons  of  which  the  Germans  have  been  proud,  it  is 
the  great  firm  of  Krupp,  in  the  celebration  of  whose  centenary  last 
August  the  German  Emperor  himself  took  a  prominent  part,  and 
made  one  of  his  speeches. 

»      It  is  now  alleged,  on  the  authority  of  Dr.  Liebknecht,  the 
leader     of  the     Socialists     in     the     Reichstag,     that     this     firm, 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  421 

in  collusion  with  certain  others,  has,  for  a  long  time, 
maintained  an  agent  in  Berlin,  whose  business  it  was 
to  bribe  officials  in  the  Admiralty  and  War  Office,  in 
order  to  obtain  secret  documents,  and  so  to  anticipate  the  com- 
petition of  other  firms.  This,  however,  is  only  a  part,  and  that 
a  small  one,  of  the  proceedings  of  these  sordid  money  seekers. 
Some  of  the  firms  in  the  conspiracy  work  partly  with  French 
capital  and  with  French  directors,  and  so  promote  in  both  nations 
the  armaments  for  which  the  people  have  to  pay.  With  the  object 
of  causing  rivalry  between  the  two  countries,  a  German  firm  belong- 
ing to  the  cartel,  "  placed  "  an  article  in  a  widely-read  French 
paper  announcing  that  the  French  authorities  intended  to  accelerate 
certain  armaments.  This  was  the  way,  Dr.  Leibknecht  alleged, 
in  which  the  armament  makers  had  accumulated  millions  taken  out 
of  the  pockets  of  the  people.  Instead  of  Germany,  as  had  been 
said,  being  in  debt  to  the  Krupps,  it  was  the  Krupps  who  were 
in  debt  to  the  German  people.  These  accusations  were  made  on 
the  authority  of  copies  of  the  secret  documents  in  Dr.  Leibknecht's 
possession.  The  Krupps  have  made  a  denial  of  the  charges  against 
them,  but  it  is  not  generally  considered  as  satisfactory.  The  truth 
of  these  charges  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  yet  definitely  estab- 
lished; they  have  been  referred  to  a  Court  of  Law. 
Moreover,  the  Reichstag  has  appointed  a  commission  of 
inquiry  into  the  question  of  the  supplies  of  armaments.  This 
commission  is  to  include  members  of  the  Reichstag,  as  well  as 
experts  selected  by  it.  This  was  done  by  the  united  vote  of  the 
Centre,  the  Radicals,  and  the  Socialists,  and  was  opposed  only  by 
the  Conservatives,  on  the  ground  that  Parliament  had  no  power  to 
call  into  question  the  proceedings  of  the  Executive. 

It  is  not  for  want  of  salutary  admonition  that  certain  capitalists 
in  Germany  have  gone  so  far  astray.  The  Crown  Prince  has 
already  entered  upon  the  role  of  instructor  of  the  country,  if  not  by 
speech-making  at  least  by  writing.  In  the  introduction  to  a  book 
called  Germany  in  Arms,  he  utters  a  warning  against  the  growing 
love  of  luxury  and  wealth,  which  threatens  to  displace  the  old 
ideals.  "Good  work  to-day,"  he  says,  "  often  counts  far  less 
than  the  wealth  of  a  man,  inherited  or  snatched.  How  wealth  is 
earned  is  hardly  asked  any  more,  and  things  which  were  once  not 
regarded  as  fair  or  decent,  are  now  silently  tolerated.  Everything 
is  sacrificed  to  the  eager  race  for  money.  Yet  history  teaches  us 
that  all  the  States  which  in  the  decisive  hour  were  ruled  by  their 
commercial  interests  alone,  perished  in  misery."  Perhaps  it  may 


422  RECENT  EVENTS  [June, 

be  useful  for  others  besides  the  Germans  to  ponder  these  words, 
and  to  draw  from  them  a  better  conclusion  than  that  which  the 
Crown  Prince  has  drawn. 

The  General  Strike,  as  it  was  called,  but 

Belgium.  which  on  account  of  the  abstention  of  the 

Christian  Unions  was  far  from  being  really 

general,  lasted  about  two  weeks.  The  strikers  numbered  some 
four  hundred  thousand ;  whereas  the  non-strikers  amounted  to 
nine  hundred  thousand.  A  remarkable  feature  of  the  strike  was 
the  perfect  abstention  from  violence;  order  was  not  disturbed  for 
a  single  moment;  non-strikers  were  in  no  way  molested. 

The  object  of  the  strike  was  not  directly  to  secure  better  con- 
ditions for  the  workingman — shorter  hours  or  higher  wages;  al- 
though doubtless  this  was  looked  forward  to  as  an  ultimate  result 
of  success.  What  the  strikers  wanted  was  a  change  in  the  Belgian 
Constitution.  As  things  are  at  present,  all  males  of  twenty-five 
years  of  age  have  one  vote;  two  votes  are  given  to  heads  of  families 
thirty-five  years  of  age,  and  to  others  possessing  a  certain  property 
qualification;  while  those  who  possess  certain  diplomas,  or  other 
proofs  of  superior  education,  have  as  many  as  three.  This  the 
Socialists  regard  as  giving  undue  advantage  to  the  rich  and  the 
well-to-do.  In  1893,  by  means  of  a  threatened  strike,  the  existing 
restricted  franchise  was  granted  in  substitution  for  one  still  more 
restricted.  In  1902,  a  strike  took  place  to  secure  the  extension 
of  the  franchise,  but  failed,  owing  to  the  loss  of  sympathy  entailed 
by  acts  of  violence  on  the  part  of  the  strikers.  The  object  of  the 
present  strike  is  the  securing  of  universal  suffrage  for  both  men 
and  women  of  the  age  of  twenty-one. 

The  result  is  disputed.  The  leaders  of  the  strikers  claim  that 
it  has  been  a  success ;  its  opponents  declare  it  to  have  been  a  failure. 
The  fact  is  that  the  strikers  returned  to  work  because  the  govern- 
ment promised  to  appoint  a  commission  to  deal  with  the  problem 
of  the  local  electorate.  On  this  commission  all  parties  are  to  be 
represented.  If  this  commission  succeeds  in  arriving  at  complete 
agreement  on  a  definite  proposal,  such  proposal  will  be  extended 
to  the  legislative  electorate  also.  The  Belgian  Legislature  by  the 
unanimous  vote  of  all  parties,  accepted  the  government's  proposal. 
Thereupon  the  men  on  strike  returned  to  work,  being  willing  to 
wait  and  see  what  the  commission  will  do.  Those  who  look  upon 
the  strike  as  a  failure  treat  the  commission  as  illusory,  and  as  known 
to  be  such  by  the  strikers.  The  latter  accepted  the  government's 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  423 

proposal  because  they  saw  their  movement  had  utterly  failed  on 
account  of  the  opposition  of  the  majority  of  the  workingmen. 

The  attempt  made  upon  the  life  of  the  King 
Spain.  by  an  Anarchist  born  in  Barcelona,  was  the 

occasion  for  the  manifestation  by  the  Span- 
ish people  of  the  loyal  attachment  they  feel  for  his  throne  and 
person.  The  great  courage  displayed  by  the  King,  and  his  perfect 
presence  of  mind,  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  this  result. 
The  public  indignation  was  so  great  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  the  assassin  was  saved  from  being  lynched.  Even  the  Repub- 
lican organs  in  the  Press  heartily  congratulated  the  King  on  his 
escape.  The  leader  of  the  Republican  party,  Serior  Ascarate,  went 
to  the  palace  to  offer  his  congratulations.  These  facts  show  the 
more  moderate  counsels  that  now  prevail  in  Spain. 

Another  indication  of  this  moderation  is  the  decision  of  the 
government  to  try  the  assassin  by  the  ordinary  courts,  instead  of 
by  a  military  tribunal.  The  programme  of  the  Liberal  government, 
at  tb  head  of  which  is  Count  Romanones,  includes  several  demo- 
cratic measures;  the  repeal  of  the  Jurisdiction  Law,  and  bills 
dealing  with  the  administration  of  local  associations.  The  Liberal 
Party  is  said  now  to  be  more  united  than  it  has  been  for  many  years. 

Diplomatic  relations  have  been  resumed  with  the  Holy  Father, 
as  the  government  recognizes  that  that  is  the  wish  of  the  large 
majority  of  the  Spanish  people. 

When  the  Republic  was  established  in  Por- 
Portugal.  tugal,  it  was  in  the  name  of  liberty  and 

progress,  and  with  a  view  to  the  reform  of 

abuses.  These  promises  have  not  been  fulfilled,  and  new 
evils  have  been  added  to  the  old.  In  fact,  there  exists 
something  like  a  reign  of  terror,  owing  to  the  domination  of 
the  secret  society  of  the  Carbonarios.  The  treatment  of  the 
royalist  prisoners,  and  of  those  suspected  of  royalist  sympathies, 
has  been  so  bad  as  to  excite  the  indignation  of  the  best  friends  of 
Portugal.  A  lady  distinguished  in  England  for  philanthropic 
activity,  Adeline,  Duchess  of  Bedford,  has  paid  a  visit  to  three 
of  the  prisons,  and  in  a  letter  to  the  Times  she  gave  an  account 
of  the  treatment  she  found  the  prisoners  to  be  undergoing.  Men 
of  all  classes — journalists,  doctors,  servants,  nobles,  and  priests 
were  treated  like  common  criminals.  It  was  for  the  merest  trifle 
that  many  were  confined.  A  system  of  espionage  was  spread  like 


424  RECENT  EVENTS  [June, 

a  network  throughout  Portugal,  so  that  no  one  was  safe,  and  every- 
one knew  that  he  was  not  safe.  We  lack  space  to  enumerate  a  tenth 
of  the  details  mentioned  by  the  Duchess. 

Her  letter  excited  so  much  indignation  that  a  meeting  of 
protest  was  held  in  London.  At  this  meeting,  which  was  presided 
over  by  Lord  Lytton,  and  at  which  the  grandson  of  Mr.  Gladstone 
was  present,  a  resolution  of  censure  was  passed,  and  an  appeal  was 
made  to  the  Portuguese  government  to  pass  an  amnesty  bill. 
In  the  view  of  the  speakers  at  the  meeting  it  was  looked  upon  as 
proved  that  the  state  of  things  now  existent  in  Portugal  was 
a  disgrace  to  civilization.  Suspected  persons  were  kept  in  prison 
for  long  periods  without  being  brought  to  trial;  accused  persons 
were  being  brought  to  trial  before  irregular  tribunals,  courts-mar- 
tial having  been  substituted  for  the  ordinary  tribunals  of  justice. 
Prisoners  so  arrested  and  condemned  were  subjected  to  barbarous 
and  inhuman  treatment  in  prison. 

One  of  the  most  terrible  of  the  ideals  of  the  secret  society 
which  now  dominates  by  an  organized  system  of  secret  denuncia- 
tion over  both  the  government  and  the  people,  is  the  fixed  purpose 
of  exterminating  the  Christian  faith.  The  little  children,  the 
Duchess  testifies,  are  wearing  badges  bearing  the  words :  "  No 
God;  no  religion."  The  Bishops  have  recently  addressed  an  ener- 
getic protest  to  the  President  of  the  Republic  against  the  serious 
attacks  on  the  Catholic  Religion  that  are  being  made  by  the  govern- 
ment. They  call  attention  in  particular  to  the  prohibition  of 
Church  functions,  the  closing  of  churches,  the  profanation  of 
church  yards  and  chapels,  and  the  undermining  of  morality  in 
schools.  They  declare  that  they  are  ready  in  the  name  of  God  to 
suffer  any  form  of  persecution  at  the  hands  of  demagogues,  being 
strong  in  the  faith  that  religion  will  triumph. 

Bad  as  is  the  present  government,  there  are  those  who  wish 
it  to  be  worse.  A  conspiracy  has  been  discovered  organized  by 
still  more  extreme  Republicans,  whose  object  is  to  overturn  the 
government  on  account  of  its  unfaithfulness  to  these  principles. 
Riots  took  place,  but  the  authorities  had  been  warned.  Many 
arrests  have  been  made,  and  as  all  the  prisons  in  Portugal  are 
full,  a  warship  has  been  employed  to  carry  the  arrested  to  the 
colonies,  there  to  be  tried. 

The  war  in  the  Balkans  seems  to  have  come 

'  The  Balkan  War.      to  an  end,  although  no  treaty  of  peace  has 

yet  been  signed.     The  exact  terms  of  such 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  425 

a  treaty  even  have  not  been  settled.  Hostilities,  however,  have 
by  mutual  agreement  been  suspended.  The  Second  Conference 
for  the  purpose  of  making  a  definite  treaty  has  just  begun 
sitting  in  London.  But  as  the  main  points  have  been  agreed  upon, 
both  sides  having  accepted  the  mediation  of  the  Powers,  it  is  con- 
fidently expected  that  no  difficulty  will  arise. 

A  like  hope  is  entertained  that  the  even  greater  calamity  of 
a  war  between  the  Great  Powers  has  been  averted.  For  something 
over  a  week,  however,  Europe  was  in  suspense,  owing  to  the  defiance 
offered  by  Montenegro  to  the  demands  of  Europe.  Although  this 
defiance  was  impolitic  and  unjustifiable,  yet  the  bravery  of  the  in- 
habitants of  this  little  kingdom,  who  are  not  so  many  in  number  as 
the  dwellers  in  Jersey  City,  called  forth  the  admiration  of  the 
world.  The  truth,  however,  is  that  Montenegro  had  no  claim  to  the 
possession  of  Skutari,  however  desirable  such  a  possession  might  be. 
Its  inhabitants  are  almost  entirely  Albanian,  and  if  there  is  to  be 
an  autonomous  Albania,  Skutari  clearly  belongs  to  it. 

The  Powers  have  settled  that  this  new  State  is  to  be  called 
into  existence,  but  it  is  a  case  of  might  against  right.  The  Albanians 
have  done  little  or  nothing  to  deserve  to  have  this  favor  bestowed 
upon  them.  A  small  proportion  is,  indeed,  Catholic,  but  the 
largest  number  are  apostates  from  Christianity  to  Mohammedan- 
ism ;  and  they  have  for  years  been  the  main  reliance  of  the  Moslem 
tyrants.  In  the  recent  war  they  would,  without  doubt,  have  sided 
with  the  Turks,  had  these  been  the  winners.  But  both  Austria 
and  Italy  came  to  the  positive  conclusion  that  to  allow  Servia  to 
extend  its  territory  to  the  shore  of  the  Adriatic  would  be  opposed  by 
their  interests.  For  the  sake  of  peace  the  other  Powers  have  ac- 
quiesced. 

What  effect  this  arrangement  will  have  upon  the  tran- 
quility  of  this  region  in  the  future,  it  is  too  soon  to  be  able  to 
see.  There  is  reason  to  fear  that  it  may  perpetuate  the  system  of 
foreign  interference  which  has  been  so  baneful  hitherto.  Albania 
will  naturally  rely  upon  Austria  and  Italy,  rather  than  confederate 
herself  with  the  rest  of  the  Balkan  States.  But  this  adds  only  one 
more  to  the  many  questions  which  will  soon  arise,  questions  the 
settlement  of  which  will  test  to  the  utmost  the  real  statesmanship  of 
those  upon  whom  the  duty  of  deciding  falls.  The  land  from  which 
the  Turk  has  been  driven  has  at  one  time  or  another  in  the  past 
belonged  to  the  Servian,  Bulgarian,  and  Greek  Empires,  and  some 
other  principle  of  division  of  their  conquest  must  therefore  be 
found. 


426  RECENT  EVENTS  [June, 

The  armies  of  Bulgaria  and  Greece  have  already  come  into 
armed  conflict  over  a  district  near  Salonika.  Servia  claims  that 
on  account  of  the  change  of  circumstances,  a  treaty  made  last  year 
with  Bulgaria  is  not  binding.  Bulgaria's  leading  statesman  has 
declared  that  Bulgaria  will  hold  Servia  to  the  treaty.  Greece 
has  massed  her  forces  at  Salonika  in  order  to  hold  that  place. 
In  fact,  it  was  for  that  purpose  that  the  late  king  took  up  his  abode 
in  that  city.  A  few  weeks  ago  it  looked  as  if  war  was  imminent 
between  the  Allied  States — a  thing  which  inspired  great  hopes 
in  the  hearts  of  the  Turks.  Now  it  is  expected  that  a  peaceful 
solution  will  be  found,  perhaps  by  arbitration. 

The  deriders  of  arbitration — and  such  exist — have  rejoiced 
in  the  way  in  which  it  has  been  ignored  in  the  course 
of  recent  events.  This,  however,  is  a  superficial  view. 
The  arbitration  movement,  like  every  other,  springs  from  the 
strong  desire  for  peace  which  is  felt  more  or  less  widely;  nor  do 
any  of  its  most  sanguine  advocates  expect,  for  a  long  time  to  come, 
to  effect  a  complete  change  in  the  sentiments  of  all  nations.  But  to 
anyone  who  is  acquainted  with  the  selfish  ambitions  which  animate 
certain  classes  in  Europe,  the  fact  that  peace  has  been  preserved 
during  the  past  six  months  is  a  convincing  evidence  of  the 
strength  of  the  feeling  which  has  produced  the  movement  in  favor 
of  arbitration.  For  many  years  it  has  been  looked  upon  as  cer- 
tain that  nothing  except  a  European  war  would  spiring  from 
the  break-up  of  the  Turkish  Empire  in  Europe.  That  war  has 
not  broken  out  is  due  to  that  strong  desire  for  peace  which  pro- 
duced the  arbitration  movement.  It  has  been  powerful  enough 
to  impose  sacrifices  on  Powers  which  a  short  time  ago  no  con- 
sideration would  have  held  back  from  war. 

This  country  is  the  first,  and  so  far  it  is 
China.  the  only  one,  that  has  recognized  the  Repub- 

lic which  was  established  in  China  in  Feb- 
ruary of  last  year.  This  has  been  done  in  advance  of  the  election 
of  a  President  in  the  full  and  complete  sense  of  the  term — Yuan 
Shih-kai  being  no  more  than  the  provisional  President.  The  United 
States  have  been  criticized  for  this  course,  on  the  ground  that  it 
is  a  concession  to  the  views  of  young  China — a  concession  which 
will  do  no  more  than  encourage  them  to  make  such  further  demands 
as  the  abolition  in  China  of  extra-territorial  rights,  and  the  equal 
treatment  of  Chinese  immigrants  with  the  Japanese  in  the  matter 
of  trading  rights  in  this  country  and  emigration  to  it. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  427 

The  recognition  of  the  Chinese  Republic  was  preceded  by  the 
withdrawal  of  the  United  States  from  the  Six  Power  Group,  which 
had  for  so  long  a  time  been  negotiating  a  loan  with  China.  The 
only  effect  of  this  withdrawal  was  to  change  the  Six  Power  into 
a  Five  Power  Group.  This  last  has  after  more  than  half  a  year's 
efforts  at  last  concluded  the  so-much-needed  loan.  It  is  for  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  millions  at  five  per  cent,  and  the  Chinese 
will  only  receive  eighty- four  cents  for  each  dollar.  Foreign  ad- 
visers will  in  reality  control  the  expenditure.  Great  excitement  was 
caused  in  Peking  by  the  fact  that  the  consent  of  the  National  As- 
sembly, which  has  just  been  elected,  had  not  been  secured  by  the 
provisional  President.  Sun  Yat-sen  has  gone  so  far  as  formally  to 
warn  the  Consular  body  at  Shanghai  that  the  completion  of  the 
loan  without  reference  to  the  Assembly  will  provoke  a  breach  be- 
tween the  North  and  the  South.  This  adds  another  to  the  long 
list  of  reasons  for  being  anxious  for  the  future  of  the  Republic. 
There  is  ground  for  thinking  that  Yuan  Shih-kai  looks  upon  his 
being  elected  President  as  necessary  for  the  well-being  of  the  State ; 
and  that  he  will  not  be  scrupulous  about  the  use  of  any  means  that 
may  seem  likely  to  secure  this  result.  An  assassination  which  took 
place  recently  is  widely  thought  to  have  been  instigated  by  him.  A 
violent  campaign  has  been  conducted  against  him  by  an  organiza- 
tion called  the  Kuo-ming-tang,  which  declares  that  China  south  of 
the  Yantsze  will  repudiate  the  loan  and  fight  unless  Yuan  Shih-kai 
retires. 

In  these  circumstances  the  government  has  made  a  request 
which  has  caused  much  surprise,  and  which  should  receive 
the  approbation  of  all.  It  has  made  a  solemn  appeal  to  the  leaders 
of  all  the  Christian  churches  within  the  Empire  to  offer  prayer  "  for 
the  National  Assembly  now  in  session;  for  the  newly-established 
government;  for  the  President  yet  to  be  elected;  for  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  Republic;  that  the  Government  may  be  recognized 
by  the  Powers;  that  peace  may  reign  within  our  borders;  that 
strong,  virtuous  men  may  be  raised  to  office;  that  the  government 
may  be  established  upon  a  strong  foundation.''  To  this  appeal 
a  cordial  response  has  been  given.  That  such  an  appeal  should 
have  been  made  is  taken  as  a  proof  of  the  Chinese  desire  to  establish 
their  Constitution  with  the  aid  of  a  faith  which  a  short  time  ago 
they  tried  to  drive  from  the  country,  and  as  an  expression  of  their 
consciousness  that  their  own  religion  cannot  give  the  help  which 
they  need  in  these  days  of  trial. 


With  Our  Readers. 

APOSTOLIC   LETTER   OF   OUR  HOLY   FATHER   PIUS   X. 

ESTABLISHING  A  UNIVERSAL  JUBILEE  IN   MEMORY  OF  THE  PEACE  GIVEN 
BY  THE  EMPEROR  CONSTANTINE  THE  GREAT  TO  THE  CHURCH. 

PIUS    PP.   X. 

To  all  the  faithful  in  Christ  who  shall  read  this  Our  Letter,  Health  and 
the  Apostolic  Benediction. 

The  commemoration  of  the  great  and  happy  event  through  which,  sixteen 
centuries  ago,  Peace  was  finally  given  to  the  Church,  while  it  fills  all  Catho- 
lics with  the  greatest  joy  and  calls  them  to  works  of  piety,  moves  Us  to  open 
the  treasures  of  celestial  gifts  that  choice  and  copious  fruits  may  accrue  from 
that  solemnity.  Nothing  indeed  could  be  more  fitting  and  opportune  than  the 
celebration  of  the  Edict  promulgated  at  Milan  by  the  Emperor  Constantine 
the  Great,  •  following  close  upon  the  victory  over  Maxentius  obtained  under  the 
glorious  Standard  of  the  Cross — the  Edict  which  put  an  end  to  the  cruel 
persecution  of  the  Christians,  and  placed  them  in  possession  of  the  liberty  bought 
at  the  price  of  the  Blood  of  the  Divine  Redeemer  and  the  Martyrs.  Then  at 
last  the  Church  Militant  gained  the  first  of  those  triumphs  which  throughout 
its  history  have  invariably  followed  persecutions  of  every  sort,  and  from  that 
day  ever-increasing  benefits  have  accrued  to  the  human  race.  For  men,  aban- 
doning by  degrees  the  superstitious  worship  of  idols,  in  their  laws,  customs, 
and  institutions  followed  ever  more  the  rule  of  Christian  life,  and  so  it  came 
to  pass  that  justice  and  love  flourished  together  on  the  earth.  Therefore  We 
think  it  appropriate  that  on  this  happy  occasion  on  which  such  a  great  event 
is  commemorated  prayers  should  be  multiplied  to  God,  to  His  Virgin  Mother, 
and  to  all  the  Blessed,  especially  to  the  Holy  Apostles,  that  all  peoples,  renewing 
the  dignity  and  glory  of  the  Church,  may  take  refuge  in  the  bosom  of  this  their 
Mother,  may  root  out  the  errors  by  which  insensate  enemies  of  the  Church 
strive  to  shroud  its  splendor  in  darkness,  may  surround  the  Roman  Pontiff 
with  the  highest  homage,  and,  with  their  minds  at  rest  in  perfect  trust,  may 
see  indeed  in  the  Catholic  religion  the  defense  and  safeguard  of  all  things. 
Then  will  it  be  possible  to  hope  that  men,  again  fixing  their  eyes  on  the 
Cross,  the  sign  of  salvation,  will  be  able  completely  to  overcome  the  enemies 
of  the  Christian  name  and  the  unbridled  lusts  of  their  hearts.  To  the  purpose, 
then,  that  the  humble  prayers  that  should  be  offered  on  the  occasion  of  this 
solemn  commemoration  throughout  the  Catholic  world  may  redound  to  the 
greater  spiritual  good  of  the  faithful,  We  ordain  that  they  be  enriched  with  a 
Plenary  Indulgence  in  Jubilee  form,  urgently  exhorting  all  the  children  of  the 
Church  that  they  unite  their  prayers  and  their  works  of  piety  to  Ours,  to  the 
end  that  by  means  of  the  spiritual  favor  of  Jubilee  offered  to  them  these  may 
bear  the  greatest  possible  fruit  both  to  the  profit  of  souls  and  the  advantage 
of  religion. 

Relying  therefore  on  the  mercy  of  Almighty  God  and  on  the  authority 
of  the  Blessed  Apostles  Peter  and  Paul,  and  having  consulted  Our  Venerable 
Brethren,  the  Cardinal  Inquisitors  General  of  the  Holy  Roman  Church,  of  that 
power  of  binding  and  loosing  which  to  Us  though  unworthy  has  been  entrusted, 
We,  by  this  present  Letter  grant  and  impart,  in  the  form  of  a  general  Jubilee, 
a  Plenary  Indulgence  of  all  sins  to  all  and  sundry  of  the  faithful  of  both  sexes, 
whether  resident  in  this  dear  City  of  Ours  or  coming  to  visit  it,  who  in  this 
present  year,  from  Low  Sunday,  when  the  secular  celebrations  intended  to 
commemorate  the  Peace  of  the  Church  begin,  to  the  feast  of  the  Immaculate 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  429 

Conception  of  the  Virgin  Mother  of  God  inclusive,  twice  visit  each  of  the 
Basilicas  of  St.  John  Lateran,  St.  Peter  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  and  St.  Paul 
outside  the  Walls ;  who  there,  according  to  Our  intention,  for  some  time  pour 
forth  their  prayers  to  God  for  the  prosperity  and  exaltation  of  the  Catholic 
Church  and  of  this  Apostolic  See,  for  the  extirpation  of  heresies  and  the  con- 
version of  all  who  are  in  error,  for  concord  amongst  Christian  Princes  and 
peace  and  unity  amongst  all  the  faithful;  who,  having  properly  confessed  their 
sins,  refresh  themselves  during  the  period  indicated  with  the  celestial  banquet; 
and  who  furthermore,  each  one  according  to  his  means,  give  an  alms  to  the  needy 
or,  if  preferred,  assign  it  for  some  pious  purpose.  To  those,  however,  who 
cannot  visit  the  City,  We  grant  the  same  Plenary  Indulgence,  provided,  during 
the  same  interval,  they  visit  six  times  in  all  a  church  or  churches  in  their 
own  locality,  to  be  designated  by  the  Ordinary,  and  perform  in  their  integrity 
the  other  works  of  piety  which  we  have  above  specified.  Further,  we  permit 
that  this  Plenary  Indulgence  may  and  can  be  applied  by  way  of  suffrage 
to  the  souls  who  have  passed  from  this  life  united  to  God  by  charity. 

To  sailors  and  those  engaged  in  travel  We  grant  that  when  they  visit 
their  homes  or  otherwise  when  they  arrive  at  any  station,  they  can  lawfully 
gain  the  same  Indulgence  when  they  shall  have  performed  the  works  above 
prescribed,  and  shall  have  visited  six  times  the  Cathedral  or  the  principal  or  the 
parochial  church  of  their  home,  or  of  the  station. 

As  to  the  religious  of  both  sexes,  including  those  bound  to  perpetual  en- 
closure, as  well  as  all  others  whomsoever,  whether  the  laity,  or  ecclesiastics, 
secular  or  regular,  who  are  detained  in  prison  or  captivity,  or  who  labor  under 
any  bodily  infirmity  or  under  any  other  impediment  whatsoever,  and  who 
cannot  perform  the  works  mentioned  or  any  one  of  them,  We  likewise  grant 
and  permit  that  the  confessor  can  commute  those  works  into  other  works  of 
piety,  or  postpone  them  to  another  not  distant  time,  and  that  he  can  enjoin 
such  works  as  his  penitents  can  perform ;  for  childern  who  have  not  yet  been 
admitted  to  first  Communion,  We  also  grant  him  authority  to  dispense  from 
Holy  Communion. 

Further  to  all  and  sundry  of  the  faithful,  both  the  laity  and  ecclesiastics, 
secular  or  regular,  of  whatsoever  Order  and  Institute,  even  those  that  should 
be  specially  named,  We  grant  authority  to  select  for  this  purpose  any  priest 
whatever,  secular  or  regular,  who  is  an  approved  confessor;  and  it  is  per- 
mitted also  that  nuns,  novices,  and  other  women  living  in  enclosure  avail  of  this 
authorization,  provided  the  confessor  they  select  be  approved  for  hearing  the 
confessions  of  nuns.  All  who  go  to  confession  within  the  aforesaid  appointed 
time,  intending  to  gain  the  Jubilee  and  to  perform  the  works  necessary  for 
gaining  it,  any  such  confessor  can  absolve  and  is  empowered  to  absolve,  for 
this  occasion  and  in  the  tribunal  of  conscience  only,  from  all  sentences  and 
censures  of  excommunication  and  suspension,  and  from  other  ecclesiastical 
sentences  and  censures,  by  the  law  or  by  man  for  whatever  cause  enacted  or 
inflicted,  even  from  those  reserved  to  Ordinaries  and  to  Us  or  the  Apostolic 
See,  even  cases  specially  reserved  no  matter  to  whom  and  to  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff  and  the  Apostolic  See,  and  which  otherwise  are  not  understood 
to  be  granted  by  any  concession  how  ample  soever.  He  can  also  absolve  and 
is  empowered  to  absolve  from  all  sins  and  excesses,  however  grievous  and 
enormous,  even  from  those  reserved,  as  has  been  said,  to  the  same  Ordinaries 
and  to  Us  and  the  Apostolic  See,  but  he  is  to  impose  a  salutary  penance,  and 
to  observe  the  other  things  enjoined  by  the  law;  and  if  there  is  question  of 
heresy,  he  can  absolve  and  is  empowered  to  absolve  from  it,  when,  according 
to  the  prescriptions  of  the  law,  error  has  been  abjured  and  retracted.  He 
can  also  commute  into  other  pious  and  salutary  works  vows  of  whatsoever 


430  WITH  OUR  READERS  [June, 

kind,  even  those  confirmed  by  oath  and  reserved  to  the  Holy  See,  always 
excepting  vows  of  chastity,  of  religion,  and  of  an  obligation  which  has  been 
accepted  from  a  third  party  or  in  which  there  is  question  of  prejudice  to  a 
third  party,  excepting  also  penal  vows,  which  are  called  vows  preserving  from 
sin,  unless  there  be  indicated  a  commutation  of  such  a  character  as  will  in 
future  serve  to  restrain  from  sin  as  much  as  the  subject-matter  of  the  original 
vow.  And  in  regard  to  penitents  of  this  kind  who  are  in  Holy  Orders, 
even  Regulars,  he  can  dispense  and  is  empowered  to  dispense  them  from  an 
occult  irregularity  contracted  solely  for  the  exercise  of  their  Orders  and  for 
the  attainment  of  higher  Orders. 

We  do  not  intend,  however,  by  Our  present  Letter  to  dispense  from  any 
other  irregularity  whatsoever,  whether  arising  from  crime  or  from  defect, 
either  public  or  hidden  or  known,  nor  from  any  other  incapacity  or  disability 
in  what  manner  soever  contracted.  Nor  do  We  intend  to  concede  any  authority 
to  dispense  in  the  premises,  or  to  rehabilitate  or  to  restore  to  the  pristine  state 
even  in  the  tribunal  of  conscience.  Nor  do  We  intend  to  derogate  from  the 
Constitution,  with  appended  declarations,  published  by  Our  predecessor  of 
happy  memory,  Benedict  XIV.,  which  begins  Sacramentum  Poenitentiae.  Nor 
in  fine  do  We  intend  that  this  same  Letter  can  or  should  in  any  wise  help 
those  who  by  Us  and  the  Apostolic  See  or  by  any  Prelate  or  Ecclesiastical 
judge  have  been  by  name  excommunicated,  suspended,  interdicted,  or  declared 
to  have  incurred  other  sentences  or  censures,  unless  within  the  aforesaid  time 
they  shall  have  made  satisfaction,  and,  when  necessary,  come  to  terms  with 
the  parties.  But  if  within  the  appointed  time  they  could  not,  in  the  judgment 
of  the  confessor,  make  satisfaction,  We  grant  that  he  can  absolve  them  in 
the  tribunal  of  conscience,  only  in  order  that  they  may  gain  the  Indulgences 
of  the  Jubilee,  the  obligation  of  making  satisfaction  as  soon  as  they  can  being 
imposed  upon  them. 

Wherefore,  in  virtue  of  holy  obedience  We,  by  this  present  Letter,  strictly 
order  and  command  all  Ordinaries  wheresoever  residing,  and  their  Vicars  and 
Officials,  and,  failing  them,  those  who  are  charged  with  the  cure  of  souls, 
that  when  they  receive  transcripts  or  printed  copies  of  the  present  Letter, 
they  publish  it,  or  take  care  that  it  be  published  in  their  churches  and  dioceses, 
provinces,  cities,  towns,  territories,  and  districts,  and  that  to  the  people  duly 
prepared,  as  far  as  possible  even  by  the  preaching  of  the  word  of  God,  they 
designate,  as  explained  above,  the  church  or  churches  to  be  visited. 

Notwithstanding  Apostolic  Constitutions  and  Ordinances,  especially  those 
by  which  the  faculty  of  absolving  in  certain  therein  expressed  cases  is  so 
reserved  to  the  Roman  Pontiff  for  the  time  being  that  even  similar  or  dissimilar 
concessions  of  such  indulgences  and  faculties  cannot  avail  anybody  unless 
express  mention  and  special  derogation  of  them  be  made;  notwithstanding  also 
the  special  rule  against  the  granting  of  indulgences  ad  instar  and  of  the  indul- 
gences of  any  whatsoever  Orders,  Congregations,  and  Institutes,  even  when 
based  and  established  on  oath,  Apostolic  confirmation  or  any  other  guarantee, 
also  indult,  privileges,  and  Apostolic  Letters  for  said  Orders,  Congregations, 
Institutes  and  persons  thereof  in  whatsoever  way  conceded,  approved  and 
introduced;  all  and  several  of  which,  although  of  them  and  of  their  whole 
tenor  a  special,  specific,  express  and  individual  mention,  and  not  merely 
mention  by  general  clauses,  would  have  to  be  made  or  any  expression  whatso- 
ever indicated,  or  any  other  form  whatsoever  elaborated,  for  the  observance 
of  this,  regarding  their  tenor  as  sufficiently  expressed  in  this  present  Letter  and 
the  form  prescribed  for  them  as  observed,  We  do  for  this  once  derogate  specially, 
nomination  and  expressly  for  the  effect  as  aforesaid ;  and  all  things  else  what- 
soever to  the  contrary.  Finally  that  this  Our  present  Letter,  which  cannot 


1913-]  WITH  OUR  READERS  431 

be  taken  to  every  place,  may  more  easily  come  to  the  knowledge  of  all,  We 
will  that  transcripts  or  even  printed  copies,  when  signed  by  the  hand  of  a  Notary 
Public  and  sealed  with  the  seal  of  an  ecclesiastical  dignitary,  shall  everywhere 
and  for  all  have  absolutely  the  same  authority  as  would  belong  to  this  present 
Letter,  if  exhibited  and  shown. 

Given  at  Rome  at  St.  Peter's,  under  the  ring  of  the  Fisherman,  on  the  8th 
day  of  March,  1913,  in  the  tenth  year  of  Our  Pontificate. 

By  special  mandate  of  His  Holiness, 

R.  CARD.  MERRY  DEL  VAL,  Secretary  of  State. 


rPHE  Catholic  Educational  Association  of  the  United  States  will  hold 
1  its  tenth  annual  meeting  at  New  Orleans,  La.,  beginning  Monday, 
June  3Oth,  and  ending  Thursday,  July  3d.  The  meeting  is  held  under 
the  auspices  of  His  Grace,  Most  Rev.  James  H.  Blenk,  D.D.,  Arch- 
bishop of  New  Orleans.  The  programme  gives  promise  of  careful 
consideration  of  grave  problems,  and  the  convention,  bringing  together 
Catholic  educators  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  will  undoubtedly 
exert  an  extensive  and  fortunate  influence  on  Catholic  educational 
work  in  the  United  States. 


rPHE  publishers  of  the  works  of  Alfred  Noyes,  mentioned  by  Mr. 
1  Colby  in  this  issue  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  are  Frederick  A. 
Stokes  &  Company,  443  Fourth  Avenue,  New  York  City. 


AGNES  REPPLIER  contributed  to  the  May  Atlantic  an  article 
entitled  The  Cost  of  Modern  Sentiment.  It  gives  us  many  wise 
things  in  tabloid  form,  a  few  of  which  we  reprint  for  our  readers. 

Sentiment  is  capable  of  raising  us  to  a  higher  and  clearer  vision, 
or  of  weakening  our  judgment  and  shattering  our  common  sense. 

We  must  forever  bear  in  mind  that  sentiment  is  a  subjective  and 
personal  thing.  However  exalted  and  however  ardent,  it  cannot  be 
accepted  as  a  weight  for  justice  or  as  a  test  of  truth. 

If  we  will  blow  our  minds  clear  of  genera)  illusions,  we  shall 
understand  that  an  emotional  verdict  has  no  validity  when  offered  as  a 
criterion  of  facts. 

Believers  in  political  faith-healing  enjoy  a  supreme  immunity 
from  doubt. 

It  is  ill  so  to  soften  our  hearts  with  a  psychological  interest  in 
the  lawbreaker,  that  no  criminal  is  safe  from  popularity. 

Reason  is  powerless  when  sentiment  takes  the  helm. 

Sentiment  is  the  motor  power  which  drives  us  to  intemperate 
words  and  actions,  which  weakens  our  judgment  and  destroys  our  sense 
of  proportion. 

The  reformer  whose  heart  is  in  the  right  place,  but  whose  head  is 
elsewhere,  represents  a  waste  of  force;  and  we  cannot  afford  any 
waste  in  the  conservation  of  honor  and  goodness. 


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THE 


CATHOLIC  WORLD, 


VOL.  XCVII. 


JULY,  1913. 


No.  580. 


THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY. 


BY   JOSEPH    FRANCIS   WICKHAM. 

IDNIGHT  has  just  echoed  itself  away,  and  the  Cam- 
panile bells  are  still.  Not  a  tremor  quivers  through 
the  great  chimes,  not  a  murmur  of  vibrant  music 
lingers  in  the  air.  You  are  alone  with  the  night  in 
Florence,  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  Duomo. 
Over  you  no  crescent  moon  is  beaming,  but  the  lacy  clouds  are 
fled,  and  the  stars,  clustering  million-myriad,  twinkle  and  gleam 
in  glad  delight  in  the  blue.  And  as  you  look  up  to  them,  they 
fain  would  speak  to  you  and  tell  you  of  bella  Firenze,  of  the  lily- 
city,  of  the  wonders  that  lie  in  her  clasp,  that  rest  in  her  precious 
embrace,  beneath  the  midnight  and  the  sky,  under  their  own  beam- 
ing eyes  in  the  heaven.  You  look  up  at  the  Duomo,  la  Cattedrale  di 
Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  at  its  elder  and  younger  sisters,  the  Bat- 
tistero  and  the  Campanile,  all  wrapped  in  peaceful  night,  waiting 
for  the  day,  waiting,  waiting  for  the  sun.  Watchers  of  the  shad- 
ows, sentinels  of  the  dark,  first  welcoming  heralds  of  God's  new 
golden  day,  they  stand  in  their  centuries-old  station  on  the  spacious 
piazza,  listening  to  your  footfalls  as  you  go  away,  even  now  know- 
ing your  happiness  when  the  morrow  will  bring  you  back.  For 
it  is  only  a  moment's  life  that  your  tarrying  enjoys,  and  you  are 
driving  once  more  toward  the  stately  Lung'  Arno,  where  your 
Florentine  days  and  nights  will  meet,  toward  the  welcome  of  the 
pleasant  avenue  windows  you  will  call  home. 

Copyright.     1913.    THE  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  OF  ST.  PAUL  THE  APOSTLE 

IN  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 
VOL.  xcvu. — 28 


434  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  [July., 

It  is  very  quiet  and  hushed  on  the  Lung'  Arno.  No  sound 
breaks  the  stillness,  save,  perhaps,  the  lonely,  distant  whistle  of  the 
train  speeding  through  the  valley  toward  Rome.  It  is  some  time 
since  the  deep-voiced  bell  on  the  tower  struck  the  night's  solemn 
knell;  even  presently  you  will  hear  the  single  note  telling  the 
progress  of  a  day  that  is  waiting  the  dawn-light  for  its  name. 
But  you  are  not  at  all  slumberous.  For  your  window  is  open,  and 
you  are  looking  out  upon  the  river,  the  slow-moving  Arno,  that  is 
spectral  in  the  lamplight,  and  that  to-morrow,  you  think,  will  turn 
brown  in  the  brilliant  day.  In  quiet  watching  you  linger  until 
sleep  finally  wins  you  away  from  the  contemplation  of  your  new 
love,  from  your  first  pale  glimpses  of  the  old  river  of  Florence. 

If  dreams  have  any  kinship  with  wakeful  meditation,  you  will 
dream  the  remaining  hours  of  a  beautiful  city,  of  a  wondrously 
artistic  city,  that  knows  of  her  beauty,  and  is  not  unconscious  of 
her  artist-soul.  You  will  dream  a  dream  peopled  writh  a  varied 
company — the  thinking  visage  of  a  master  poet  slowly  passing 
across  the  scene,  the  countenance  of  the  supreme  artistic  genius 
of  the  centuries,  and  the  impassioned  features  of  an  inspired 
preacher-idol.  These  three — and  they  will  be  surrounded  by  eager 
young  faces,  serious,  mature  faces,  faces  of  those  who  have  given 
Florence  fame  and  linked  her  in  spirit  to  the  choicest  days,  Athens 
ever  saw.  Dante,  Michelangelo,  Savonarola;  Giotto,  Fra  Angelico, 
Botticelli;  Fra  Filippo  Lippi,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Raphael,  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  Andrea  del  Sarto;  Arnolfo  di  Cambio,  Brunelles- 
chi,  Alberti;  Ghiberti,  Luca  della  Robbia,  Donatello,  Cellini;  the 
great  Medici,  Cosimo,  Piero,  Lorenzo;  these  are  the  dream-figures 
that  will  come  before  you.  Not  all  of  these  first  saw  life  in 
Florence,  not  all  died  within  the  shadows  under  her  fair  hills,  but 
all,  and  many,  many  more,  brought  her  their  gifts  of  mind  and 
heart  and  soul — some  more  of  one,  some  more  of  another — and 
laid  them  before  her.  And  Florence  welcomed  them  all,  native 
son  and  stranger  guest,  and  gave  them  her  spirit  and  her  inspira- 
tion and  her  guiding  hand,  and  bade  them  win  glory  for  Florence 
and  immortality  for  their  own  names.  It  is  a  dream,  to  be  sure, 
still  the  figures  are  not  shadowy,  but  seem  all  real,  all  earnest, 
all  alive  with  the  fire  of  the  long  ago.  And  when  the  waking 
comes,  and  the  day  is  again  with  you,  and  the  Arno  is  shining  in  the 
sunlight,  and  Italy  is  once  more  calling  you  to  listen  to  her  voice 
and  smile  with  her  smiles  and  be  happy  in  her  happiness,  then  you 
will  go  forth  and  ask  Florence  to  offer  you  not  the  dream  of 


1913.]  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  435 

the  night,  but  the  living  work  of  the  dream-people,  and  thus  prove 
to  you  that  the  spirits  of  the  night  once  lived;  prove  to  you  that 
in  Italy,  if  nowhere  else,  the  fondest  dreams  come  true. 

There  is  only  one  path  to  take  when  first  one  steps  out  into 
the  Florentine  daylight — the  way  to  the  Piazza  della  Signoria. 
For  here  was  gathered  much  of  the  daily  life  of  old  Florence — 
and  the  Florence  of  now  is  wondrous  because  of  the  old  days — 
here  are  the  memories  of  her  full- veined  years,  and  the  lingering 
voices  of  songs  once  sung,  of  tales  once  told,  of  life  and  battle 
and  death.  Dante  often  walked  through  this  square;  Lorenzo 
the  Magnificent  looked  from  yonder  casement  in  the  Palazzo  Vec- 
chio ;  Michelangelo  admired  his  "  David  "  at  the  palace-gate ;  Cel- 
lini still  hovers  in  spirit  over  his  "  Perseus  "  in  the  Loggia  dei 
Lanzi;  Donatello  watches  his  "Judith  and  Holof ernes;"  Savon- 
arola yielded  up  his  life  near  the  bronze  slab  where  you  now 
stand.  What  city  can  boast  such  figures?  Old  Athens,  possibly, 
can  play  the  rival — none  other.  Indeed  the  Piazza,  may  be  likened 
to  the  Acropolis,  for  it  calls  up  the  masters  of  Florence  as  the 
Attic  citadel  evokes  the  spirits  of  the  city  that  looks  upon  the  eastern 
sea.  That  is  the  eloquent  way  the  older  civilizations  built  their 
fair  cities. 

And  this  is  Florence.  And  it  is  daytime,  with  a  warm  sun 
lighting  the  square  and  making  you  wish  to  seek  shelter  under  the 
colonnades  of  the  Loggia,  as  the  little  Florentine  boys  are  wisely 
doing.  Perhaps  the  summer  is  trying  to  induce  you  to  enter  that 
beautiful  Palazzo  degli  Uffizi,  where  the  art-goddess  holds  her 
court  and  feels  at  home  far  from  Olympian  halls.  But  you  yield 
not  to  these  impulses  to-day,  for  up  the  Via  dei  Calzaioli  the  way 
beckons  to  the  Duomo  that  last  night  welcomed  you  to  the  city, 
and  that  now  would  invite  you  to  its  altars  and  the  treasures  of  its 
sculptured  aisles. 

Beauteous  was  the  shadowed  Duomo  in  the  starlight,  but  in  the 
day  it  is  superb  beyond  words.  When  you  come  upon  it  first  in  the 
not  spacious  piazza,  your  eyes  are  bewildered  by  the  unusual  ap- 
pearance of  the  massive  structure.  You  have  looked  upon  cathe- 
drals gray  or  white  or  brown,  but  here  is  one  of  variegated  colors 
in  marble,  with  the  green  dominant  in  the  blending  with  the  red 
and  white,  an  immense,  majestic  mosaic.  Rich  in  beauty  of  con- 
tour rare  to  discover;  with  fagade  rising  to  the  heaven  a  marble 
flower-garden  in  its  exquisite  sculpture;  with  many  an  angel  and 
prophet  and  fair-browed  saint  looking  forth  upon  the  city's  life, 


436  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  [July, 

the  cathedral  culminates  in  the  double  dome  that  never  was  dreamed 
before.  It  is  all  very  pleasing,  very  harmonious,  very  magnificent. 
Arnolfo  di  Cambio  commenced  this  structure  in  1296,  but  to 
Brunelleschi  is  the  glory  of  the  noblest  dome,  save  Saint  Peter's, 
the  world  knows. 

Through  the  bronze  doors  you  go  into  the  immense  nave,  into 
the  prayerful  atmosphere  of  the  grand  edifice.  There  is  little 
here,  as  compared  with  so  many  cathedrals,  to  make  you  wander 
about  for  gazing.  Everything  is  very  quiet,  very  peaceful,  and 
the  light  is  soft  about  the  dome-windows,  and  the  shadows  are 
delicate  about  the  arches,  and  all  your  thinking  centres  upon  the 
altar  lights  and  the  devout  worshippers  who  know  not  if  you  are 
here.  But  if  the  Duomo  is  crowded  not  with  art  objects,  there  is 
still  a  figure  of  John  the  Baptist  by  Donatello,  a  terra-cotta  bas- 
relief  of  the  Ascension  by  Luca  della  Robbia,  and  an  unfinished 
"  Pieta  "  by  Michelangelo,  a  beautiful  work  indeed.  But  nothing 
artistic  below  can  distract  your  eyes  from  forever  looking  up 
at  the  glorious  dome  that  Brunelleschi  achieved  so  wondrously, 
the  dome  that  Michelangelo  could  surpass  in  size  at  Rome,  but 
never  in  beauty. 

Old,  indeed,  the  Duomo  is,  but  it  counts  fewer  centuries  than 
its  companion,  the  Battistero,  the  eight- faced  domed  structure  which 
stands  opposite.  This  is  the  oldest  building  in  the  city.  Built 
probably  in  the  seventh  century,  it  was,  perhaps,  the  cathedral 
church  of  old  Florence.  In  the  thirteenth  century  Arnolfo  di 
Cambio  covered  it  with  marble,  and  so  made  it  more  beautiful 
to  look  upon.  But  its  great  beauty  and  its  far-traveled  fame  are 
the  bronze  doors  that  Andrea  Pisano  and  Lorenzo  Ghiberti  wrought 
so  marvelously.  In  1336  Pisano  finished  the  south  door,  with 
its  twenty  bronze  panels  depicting  the  life  of  Saint  John  the  Bap- 
tist and  the  cardinal  virtues,  and  won  the  ringing  praises  of  all 
Florence.  Years  later,  in  their  magnificent  enthusiasm,  in  that 
splendid  way  they  had  of  doing  great  things,  the  citizens  proclaimed 
a  competition  throughout  all  Italy  for  a  sculptor  for  the  north 
and  east  doors.  Ghiberti  won  the  contest,  and  in  ten  years  had 
completed  the  north  door  with  its  scenes  of  the  Gospel  from  Mary's 
Annunciation  to  the  Pentecostal  Day.  It  is  of  the  same  genre 
as  his  predecessor's  work,  but  displays  more  harmony,  and  added 
richness  in  execution.  But  Ghiberti's  other  door,  which  faces 
the  Duomo,  shows  the  pictorial  sculpture  of  the  Renaissance  come 
with  all  the  luxuriance  of  the  new  period.  The  Old  Testament 


1913.]  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  437 

holds  sway  here,  Adam  and  Eve,  Moses  on  Sinai,  David  and  Go- 
liath, and  other  figures  that  make  the  Jewish  history  memorable. 
It  is  this  door,  executed  one  hundred  years  after  Pisano's  work 
called  the  senators  from  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  to  behold,  that  Michel- 
angelo declared  worthy  to  be  the  gate  of  Heaven. 

Go  through  the  portals,  and  you  stand  within  walls  that  saw 
Dante  christened,  and  that  whisper  to  the  dome  the  baptismal  names 
of  every  Florentine,  for  to-day,  as  of  old,  every  infant  of  the 
flower  city  is  carried  here  for  the  sacrament  that  makes  it  a 
child  of  God.  Indeed,  while  you  are  standing  here  in  admiration  of 
Donatello's  tomb  of  Baldassare  Cossa,  if  you  are  very  fortunate, 
you  may  see  some  good  Florentine  woman  bringing  into  the  Battis- 
tero  a  swaddled  bambino,  and  there  at  the  font  offer  it  to  the  priest 
for  baptism.  It  is  with  simple  thoughts  and  chastened  heart  that 
you  go  forth  into  the  air  again,  and  turn  your  steps  toward  the 
graceful,  slender  Campanile. 

White  and  green  and  pale-pink  rose  is  Giotto's  lovely  column, 
the  most  beautiful  Gothic  campanile  in  Italy.  Here  also  Andrea 
Pisano  shows  the  master  hand  in  the  reliefs  set  high  from  the 
ground,  and  Donatello  lives  in  the  statues  of  David  and  Jere- 
miah, and  the  arts  bloom  in  happy  gathering  under  the  inspiration 
of  Luca  della  Robbia.  The  campanile  bells  are  within,  the  chimes 
that  awakened  you  this  morning,  that  call  the  hours  for  Florentine 
life,  and  mark  the  time-spaces  in  the  march  of  the  years. 

The  Duomo  and  the  Palazzo  della  Signoria  are,  and  always 
have  been,  the  centres  of  the  daily  life  of  Florence,  religious,  civic, 
artistic,  commercial,  all.  So  when  one  knows  these  well,  one  is 
acquainted  with  much  of  the  city's  history.  For  the  lover  of 
Florence  then  is  conscious  of  the  city's  achievements,  and  meets 
more  intimately  the  figures  that  made  her  alive  among  the  great 
peoples  of  civilized  Europe.  How  Dante  gave  Italy  a  language; 
how  Guelph  and  Ghibelline  fought  their  battles;  how  the  Signoria 
had  its  being ;  how  Florence  became  banker  to  Europe ;  how  she  con- 
quered Pisa,  Cortona  and  Leghorn;  how  the  Renaissance  was 
cradled  and  nurtured;  how  the  Medici  fared  in  the  seats  of  the 
mighty;  how  love  of  liberty  and  reform  came  with  Savonarola; 
how  Florence  cherished  all  her  great  men;  it  is  all  reflected  in  or 
near  these  centres. 

Florence  was  founded  by  the  Fiesolans,  who  came  down  from 
the  heights  two  hundred  years  before  Christ.  Then  she  lived  the 
usual  life  of  an  Italian  town,  waiting  the  inevitable,  the  coming 


438  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  [July, 

of  Rome.  Sulla  and  Caesar  both  made  history  in  her  valley,  the 
one  razing  the  city  to  the  ground  because  she  supported  the  Marian 
party,  the  other  rebuilding  for  a  military  post.  In  time  the  town 
grew  up  again,  and  after  the  fall  of  Rome  became  part  of  the 
Lombard  kingdom ;  but  when  Charlemagne  absorbed  the  territory, 
Florence  became  the  residence  of  a  count.  Upon  the  death  of 
Countess  Matilda  in  the  year  1115,  there  followed  two  centuries 
of  strife  between  the  Popes  and  the  emperors,  a  conflict  in  which 
Florence  always  fought  side  by  side  with  the  Papacy  against  the 
German  aggression.  For  no  less  or  greater  reason  than  a  broken 
marriage-promise,  in  time  there  became  engendered  among  the 
nobles  a  fierce  spirit  of  hatred,  and  out  of  it  were  created  the  rival 
factions  of  Guelph  and  Ghibelline,  the  one  democratic  and  lov- 
ing liberty  and  the  Pope,  the  other  aristocratic  and  serving  the 
emperor.  Many  a  battle  they  fought  in  and  out  of  Florence,  with 
now  the  Ghibelline  a  banished  force,  and  now  the  Guelph.  Amid 
the  many  conflicts,  best  of  all,  perhaps,  we  remember  the  battle 
of  Campaldino,  in  which  no  less  a  personage  than  the  great  Dante 
fought  on  the  winning  Guelph  side. 

But  continuous  civil  strife  is  scarcely  compatible  with  proper 
government  at  large,  so  in  1282  the  guilds  handed  over  the  rule 
to  the  Signoria,  formed  of  their  own  presidents.  Being  human, 
they  created  an  aristocracy  for  themselves,  and  in  one  hundred 
years  we  find  the  lower  citizens  in  rebellion.  Soon  the  aristocratic 
Guelphic  Albizzi  were  in  charge,  but  there  was  another  revolution, 
and  the  Ghibelline  Medici  now  first  came  into  the  coveted  leadership. 
They  lived  in  a  fortunate  time.  Florence's  age  of  art-empire  had 
come  with  the  Albizzi,  and  the  Medici  extended  her  dominance. 
They  ruled  with  little  interruption  until  the  line  was  extinct  in 
1737.  Florence  then  fell  to  the  Austrian  Duke  of  Lorraine,  whose 
house  held  the  city,  save  during  the  French  period  between  1801 
and  1814,  until  the  year  1860,  when  Florence  joined  the  new  king- 
dom of  Italy.  From  1865  to  J875  Florence  was  the  capital  of 
the  kingdom,  with  Victor  Emanuel  a  dweller  within  her  walls. 

Knowing  all  this  well,  for  this  you  must  know  and  ponder 
many  an  hour  to  appreciate  Florence,  you  will  be  more  ardent  by 
tenfold  to  visit  all  the  other  jewels  to  which  the  city's  treasury 
bids  you  welcome.  Your  daily  musings  and  evening  memories  will 
be  fuller  of  sympathy,  and  your  imagination  will  be  juster  in  its 
conjuring  with  the  men  and  things  of  a  fairer  day. 
»  You  will  make  no  mistake  if  you  go  out  to  the  old  monastery 


1913.]  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  439 

of  San  Marco  some  fine  morning,  while  you  are  still  a  stranger 
to  Florence,  to  see  Fra  Angelico's  superb  frescoes  and  the  cell  of 
Savonarola.  Cosimo  the  Elder  built  this  monastery  in  1437  for 
the  Dominicans,  and  though  it  is  now  a  museum,  the  atmosphere 
of  the  old  days  pervades  the  place  like  the  scent  of  remembered 
roses.  You  can  still  see,  if  you  wish  to,  the  gentle  monk  from 
Fiesole  spending  his  days  and  years  painting  the  beautiful  Madon- 
nas and  the  noble  Crucifixions  and  the  sweet-visaged  angels,  and 
all  the  paradisaic  conceptions  that  filled  his  soul.  You  can  still 
behold  the  austere  Fra  Girolamo  in  the  cell  before  his  crucifix, 
praying  to  heaven  for  Florence  before  he  makes  an  impassioned  ap- 
peal to  the  people.  You  feel  the  presence  of  the  long-gone  brethren 
about  the  empty  corridors,  and  the  small,  plain  rooms  that  open 
from  their  echoing  pathways.  And  when  you  go  away  from  the 
cloisters,  and  leave  behind  you  the  sun-kissed  pavements  and  the 
square  of  green  grass  and  the  shadows  of  the  palms,  you  feel 
the  peace  of  heaven  that  must  once  have  dwelt  here,  while  gay 
Florence  danced  and  wooed  the  earth- joy  along  the  avenues  without. 
Another  morning  you  will  attend  Mass  in  the  old  Franciscan 
church  of  Santa  Croce,  which  Arnolfo  di  Cambio  commenced  in 
1294,  which  Giotto  also  may  claim  as  partly  his.  When  the  service 
is  over  and  you  rise  from  your  knees,  it  will  not  be  to  seek  the 
portal,  but  to  stay  and  visit  the  tombs  and  memorials  which  make 
this  great  edifice  unique  among  the  churches  of  the  city.  Here 
you  may  see  Vasari's  tomb  of  Michelangelo,  who  chose  the  very 
spot  of  his  place  of  rest;  as  also  the  tomb  of  Machiavelli,  and  that 
of  the  poet  Alfieri  from  Canova's  hand.  Here  Rossini  and  Cher- 
ubini  also  lie;  and  monuments  and  tablets  of  beauty  are  here  in 
memory  of  days  that  saw  the  great  architect  Alberti,  Donatello, 
Galileo,  and  many  others.  One  of  the  most  exquisite  tombs  in 
all  Florence  is  that  of  Carlo  Marsuppini,  the  humanist  secretary 
to  the  Republic.  This  masterpiece  of  Desiderio  da  Settignano  is 
opposite  another  fine  work,  Bernardo  Rosselino's  tomb  of  Mar- 
suppini's  predecessor,  Leonardi  Bruni.  In  a  sense,  the  most  re- 
markable of  the  monuments  is  the  empty  sepulchre  of  Dante. 
Hoping  to  receive  his  body  from  Ravenna,  Florence  was  surprised 
at  the  refusal  of  that  municipality  to  restore  for  marble  honors 
him  whom  his  native  city  had  once  exiled.  So  the  tomb  remains 
a  cenotaph,  a  constant  reminder  to  Florentines  of  the  ingratitude 
of  their  ancestors.  But  perhaps  Florence  feels'  no  shame  in  the 
dishonor  of  not  possessing  in  death  her  supreme  poet;  perhaps  she 


440  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  [July, 

accepts  in  humility  the  penance  for  her  unhospitality  of  over 
half  a  thousand  years  ago. 

When  you  have  seen  the  old  frescoes  of  Giotto  in  the  chapels 
near  the  choir,  you  leave  this  church  of  tombs  and  emerge  into  the 
air,  once  more  to  be  reminded  of  immortality  by  the  statue  of 
Dante  that  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  Piazza.  In  May,  1865, 
on  the  six  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  poet's  birth,  with  all 
Florence  in  the  Piazza,  and  the  bell  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  trembling 
from  repeated  pealing,  and  the  strains  of  triumphant  music  calling 
forth  in  every  heart  a  loyal  love  for  the  peer  of  Homer  and  Shakes- 
peare, the  statue  was  unveiled  by  King  Victor  Emanuel. 

So,  as  the  days  go  by,  your  visits  will  have  included  many 
of  the  other  noted  shrines  that  make  Florence  lovely,  and  that  would 
make  a  less  favored  people  in  a  land  across  the  seas  vain  and 
rightly  proud.  Near  the  Via  della  Scala,  the  Gothic  church  of 
Santa  Maria  Novella,  begun  in  1279,  dreams  of  all  the  past  and  all 
the  famous  men  and  women  that  the  bells  in  its  rosy  spire  have 
called  to  worship.  In  its  soft  twilight  interior  you  will  pause 
long  before  Dom  Ghirlandaio's  masterpieces,  the  exquisite  frescoes 
of  the  choir;  nor  will  you  wish  to  forget  Cimabue's  famous 
Madonna  in  the  Cappella  Rucellai;  and  when  you  have  seen  the 
'beauty  of  the  Cappella  degli  Spagnuoli  and  have  left  the  church, 
you  will  look  back  and  again  admire  Alberti's  tasteful  decoration 
on  the  pointed  fagade.  In  the  church  of  San  Lorenzo,  built  by 
Brunelleschi  and  Manetti,  you  may  look  upon  the  sacristy  Michel- 
angelo constructed  as  a  mausoleum  for  the  Medici;  and  his 
marvelous  monuments  therein  for  Giuliano  and  Lorenzo. 
Across  the  Arno  the  church  of  Santo  Spirito,  of  Brunelleschi's 
planning,  offers  its  sweet  and  serene  beauty,  and  not  far  away  the 
church  of  Santa  Maria  del  Carmine,  with  fifteenth  century  frescoes 
of  Masolino  and  his  pupil  Masaccio  in  the  Cappella  Brancacci,  com- 
pels a  gladly-given  visit.  More  than  one  Sunday  will  find  you 
attending  Mass  at  the  church  of  Santissima  Annunziata  de'  Servi, 
the  fashionable  church  of  Florence,  where  the  crowded  edifice 
tells  you  that  the  spirit  of  Girolamo  is  still  breathing  piety  and  re- 
ligion through  the  city.  When  you  are  departing  from  the  flower- 
fragrant  church,  you  must  needs  stop  again  before  the  exquisite 
frescoes  of  Andrea  del  Sarto.  As  you  pass  on,  and  through  the 
portals,  and  are  bending  homeward,  you  will  delay  a  little  for  ad- 
miring Andrea  della  Robbia's  infant  medallions  between  the  arches 
of  the  colonnades  of  the  Spedale  degli  Innocenti ;  and  you  wonder 


1913.]  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  44* 

when  again  the  old  days  of  the  artists  will  have  a  blooming  and  a 
resurrection  from  their  forgetful  sleep. 

There  are  indeed  magnificent  churches  in  Florence,  and  beau- 
tiful paintings  and  frescoes  within.  But  no  day  of  your  religious 
pilgrimage  will  offer  you  more  infinite  variety  or  more  genuine 
pleasure  than  some  afternoon  when  the  day  is  fine  and  the  sun  is 
making  ready  to  retreat,  and  you  are  on  your  way  to  Fiesole.  You 
will  find  it  pleasant  to  go  by  tram,  equally  so  to  make  the  journey 
by  motor,  and  if  you  are  a  true  pilgrim,  you  may  be  inclined 
to  walk.  But  however  you  go,  you  will  wish  you  had  gone  before, 
and  will  be  hopeful  of  going  again,  for  the  excursion  is  surely  a 
delight  not  unrarely  to  be  had  for  the  asking.  The  route  rises 
by  curving  inclines,  rather  steep  than  gradual  and  gentle,  until 
a  height  of  one  thousand  feet  is  reached.  All  the  way  cypresses  and 
olive  trees  throw  their  green  outlines  along  the  lovely  slopes,  and 
many  a  splendid  villa  looks  down  upon  you  from  the  rose-clad 
terraces,  while  the  heaven-breeze  sweeps  your  face,  and  makes  you 
wish  for  a  home  somewhere  among  the  blossoms  of  those  sun- 
loved  hills. 

After  a  little  you  will  pass  near  the  gardens  of  Villa  Palmieri, 
and  will  view  many  a  pleasant  field  where  the  story-teller  of 
Florence  set  his  scene;  it  was  a  happy  biding-place  for  the  ten- 
days'  tourney  of  tales  of  lords  and  ladies  fair,  with  ever  the  song 
of  birds  and  the  soft  blithe  wind  and  the  vistas  of  fairy  groves 
bringing  oblivion  of  forced  tarrying.  Half-way  up  the  heights 
you  reach  the  tiny  village  of  San  Domenico  di  Fiesole,  with  the 
Dominican  convent  at  your  side,  in  which  Fra  Angelico  lived,  and 
from  which  he  derives  his  name.  A  little  distance  away  is  the 
Badia,  once  the  famous  shrine  of  the  Fiesolans,  but  later  a  Bene- 
dictine abbey,  and  now  a  school.  Here,  in  the  loggia,  the  Platonic 
Academy  often  met,  and  often  listened  to  the  youthful  Pico  della 
Mirandola,  with  Lorenzo  il  Magnifico  a  willing  patron.  Not  far 
from  the  convent  of  San  Domenico  is  the  Villa  Gherardesca,  where 
the  Muses  found  shelter  under  Lander's  protection,  and  were  glad 
of  the  lovely  outlook  over  the  valley  and  across  the  hills,  for 
miles  and  miles,  even  to  the  gateways  of  Vallombrosa.  You  do 
not  progress  far  before  you  pass  the  cypress-shaded  terraces  of 
the  Villa  Medici,  where  Cosimo  came  for  his  leisure  whilings; 
and  Lorenzo  for  the  whisperings  of  the  Stagirite's  tutor  and  the 
nearer  voice  of  the  blue  heavens,  for  the  Latin  hexameters  of  the 
loved  Poliziano  and  the  gentle  laughter  of  Ficino. 


442  THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY  [July, 

The  road  winds  on  through  the  shadows  and  the  light,  past  the 
villas,  with  their  garden  terraces  smooth  and  green,  over  the  sloping 
hills  red  with  tulips  and  poppies,  and  supplying  the  stuff  of  dreams. 
Then,  at  last,  Fiesole  is  reached,  the  old,  old  Faesulse,  which  has 
seen  the  face  of  many  a  famous  man  upon  its  heights.  Catiline 
was  once  a  banished  guest  here;  Puritan  Milton  looked  upon 
Florence  from  this  hill;  Ruskin  came  here  in  the  cool  of  the  evening 
to  view  Giotto's  campanile  which  he  loved  below;  here  Browning 
mused  on  the  God-gifts  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  and  the  painter's  dream 
of  the  flame  of  immortals.  Soon  you  are  in  the  Piazza  Mino  da 
Fiesole,  with  the  cathedral's  slender  campanile  looking  down  upon 
you.  The  basilica  was  founded  in  1028,  and  built  in  Tuscan- 
Romanesque  style.  Of  the  works  of  art  within  the  church  there 
is  little  to  be  noted,  save  the  tomb  of  Bishop  Salutati,  the  master- 
piece of  Mino  da  Fiesole. 

The  ancient  Etruscan  wall  and  the  Roman  theatre  may  keep 
you  a  moment  or  two,  and  still  longer  the  view  of  the  valley  where 
the  Mugnone  threads  its  way,  glistering  like  a  shining  thread  of 
gold  floss  below  the  ever-green  hill.  But  up  by  the  Franciscan 
monastery,  which  occupies  the  site  of  the  castle  the  Romans  built, 
you  will  stay,  and  willingly,  for  here  you  can  see  most  wonderfully 
all  Florence,  the  soul  of  Tuscany,  lying  in  the  valley,  with  the 
guardian  Apennines  encircling  her  silent  beauty,  and  the  brown- 
gleaming  Arno  winding  its  way  through  her  very  heart.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  distinguish  the  many  objects  in  the  deep  distance,  for 
the  atmosphere  is  very  clear  and  very  transparent,  with  no  pall  of 
unbeauteous  smoke  hanging  over  the  fairy  city.  The  tower  on 
the  Palazzo  Vecchio  is  conspicuous,  and  the  shining  summit  of 
Giotto's  tower,  and  the  great,  glistening  dome-flower  of  the  Cathe- 
dral, rising  to  the  skies,  graceful,  serene,  almost  fragrant  with 
summer.  And  shining  white  and  crimson  the  houses  stretch  on  and 
on  in  charming  simplicity  down  the  valley,  towards  the  open  arms 
of  the  Tuscan  hills. 

Here  I  stood  once  as  the  summer  afternoon  was  waning,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  fair  city.  Florence  was  quiet,  restful,  at 
peace  with  herself  and  the  gold-flamed  west  and  the  blue  sky  and 
the  rosy  tints  on  the  single  cloud-ship  that  floated  over  the  valley. 
And  I  wondered  how  many  in  all  that  city  were  thinking,  as  I  was, 
of  the  olden  glory  and  dead-lying  days.  Was  a  Florentine  mother 
rocking  a  tiny  babe  to  sleep,  and  dreaming  him  an  Andrea  della 
Robbia,  or  was  she  wishing  him  a  Fra  Angelico,  and  watching  his 


THE  SOUL  OF  TUSCANY 


443 


lovely  life  unfold  itself  in  the  creation  of  angelic  color-poems? 
Was  a  little  girl,  who  even  now  must  be  placing  snow-white  roses 
before  our  Lady's  shrine  near  the  fountain,  planning  the  way  to 
heaven,  and  was  it  the  sainted,  silent  way?  Was  some  small  boy, 
lying  under  a  tree  on  the  hillside  across  the  city,  weaving  his  little 
rainbow-tinted  thoughts  that  some  day  would  evolve  another  "  Vita 
Nuova?  "  Was  a  pale  stripling  wooing  harmony's  soul  in  a  tune- 
mellowed  chamber  to  find  the  secret  of  the  tone-cathedrals  of  a 
Rossini?  Was  a  barefoot  ragazzo  in  tatters  playing  with  the 
Arno's  wet  sand,  and  feeling  in  his  budding  youth  thoughts  that 
another  "  David  "  might  be  waiting  his  manhood's  chisel  ?  Were 
all  the  lilies  and  iris  and  geranium  blossoms  in  the  flower-market 
ever  to  bloom  forth  as  souls  of  the  goldsmiths  and  lapidaries  and 
mosaic-workers  of  the  days  to  be? 

I  was  still  lost  in  wonder  as  I  went  away  and  prepared  to 
leave  Fiesole.  So  I  wondered  as  we  moved  in  and  out  among  the 
olives,  and  turned  sharply  about  the  winding  road  down  the  billowy 
hills,  and  hastened  past  the  majestic  cypresses,  and  left  the  vine- 
yards behind,  and  the  sweet-breathing  roses,  and  the  dainty  jessa- 
mines, and  the  courtyards,  and  the  cool,  plashing  fountains  of 
the  lovely  villas.  And  we  came  back  into  the  vale-city,  just  in 
time  to  hear  the  prayer-hour  ringing  from  the  towers,  and  to  see 
the  dying  day  reach  forth  its  hands  and  give  its  greeting  to  the 
evening  and  the  coming  stars.  Through  the  streets,  the  now 
friendly  and  familiar  thoroughfares  of  Florence,  we  were  carried  to 
our  homing-place  beside  the  Arno.  The  twilight  settled  over  the 
city,  and  the  night  came,  and  the  angels  of  heaven  held  over  the 
valley  a  twinkling  canopy  of  blue  and  silver-gold.  As  we  looked 
out  the  open  windows,  a  gentle  breeze  was  sweeping  by,  with  a 
message  of  gladness  and  goodness  and  love;  and  from  over  the 
river  floated  the  happy  strains  of  song. 


WHY  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  CANNOT  ACCEPT 
SOCIALISM. 

BY  GEORGE  M.  SEARLE,   C.S.P. 


T  may  seem  strange  to  many  who  have  a  fairly  good 
knowledge  of  the  teaching  and  practice  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  that  there  should  be  such  a  conflict  as 
we  find  existing  between  it  and  Socialism.  For  the 
two  seem  to  have  a  strong  resemblance ;  and  it  seems 
that  there  should  be  sympathy  rather  than  antagonism.  If  Social- 
ism meant  anarchy,  of  course  the  conflict  would  be  easily  under- 
stood ;  for  the  Church  is  a  well-ordered  and  governed  society.  But 
so  is  the  ideal  social  state;  in  it  everyone  has  his  proper  place  and 
regular  duties. 

And  the  ideals  or  aspirations  of  both  seem  really  very  similar. 
The  Church  fully  acknowledges  that  the  highest  form  of  its  own 
life  is  that  practiced  in  its  religious  orders  or  communities,  which 
is  modeled,  we  may  say,  on  that  led  by  our  Lord  Himself  with  His 
chosen  Apostles  during  His  ministry  on  earth;  with  a  common 
purse,  in  charge  of  one  of  their  number,  for  the  common  good. 
And  this  form  of  life  was  the  one  adopted  in  the  beginning  by 
the  Church  of  Jerusalem.  It  did  not  become  that  of  the  whole 
Church  throughout  the  world ;  but  that  was  not  because  it  was  dis- 
approved as  a  form  of  life,  but  simply  because,  as  men  are  actually 
constituted,  it  could  not  be  successfully  carried  on  by  all.  But 
still  we  find  the  Church  reverting  to  it  here  and  there,  in  her 
religious  communities,  and  carrying  it  on  most  successfully;  indeed 
it  is  only  in  the  Church  that  it  has  been  an  actual  success.  And  it 
has  always,  when  showing  signs  or  promise  of  such  success,  and 
when  undertaken  in  the  manner  necessary  to  produce  it,  been  most 
highly  approved  of  by  the  higher  Church  authority. 

Why,  then,  should  the  Church  condemn  in  mankind  at  large 
what  she  so  highly  approved  among  her  own  members?  Why 
should  she  tell  men  in  general  not  to  do  what  she  so  strongly  recom- 
mends and  indeed  invites  some,  at  least,  of  her  own  children  to  do  ? 
This  really  seems  to  many  a  sort  of  scandal,  and  to  imply  that  the 
Church  is  not  quite  sincere  in  this  approbation  which  she  gives 
to  the  common  or,  as  it  may  be  called,  the  socialist  life  in  her 
communities,  but  only  tolerates  it,  her  authorities  really  preferring 


1913-]       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       445 

to  have  private  property  retained  by  the  great  mass  of  her  mem- 
bers, and  indeed  to  a  very  large  amount  by  some  of  them;  and 
this,  it  may  be  said,  in  order  to  receive  substantial  assistance  for 
themselves  in  this  way. 

These  questions,  which  are  not  imaginary,  but  really  raised, 
are  not,  however,  so  puzzling  as  they  may  appear.  Let  us  consider 
the  matter  carefully,  and  we  shall  see  why  the  Church  cannot  adopt 
the  socialist  programme  for  a  general  one;  why,  if  so  adopted, 
she  must  regard  it  as  dangerous  to  the  general  welfare. 

The  first  reason  is  that  what  we  may  call  the  fundamental  idea 
of  Socialism  is  absolutely  erroneous,  and  contradictory  to  Catholic 
teaching.  And  that  idea  is,  that  morality  is  a  matter  entirely  in  the 
jurisdiction  of  mankind,  instead  of  being  subject  to  the  law  of  God; 
that  it  rests  on  and  can  be  determined  by  popular  vote.  This  idea 
may  not  be  expressly  formulated  in  all  socialist  teaching;  but  still 
it  exists.  In  particular,  it  finds  utterance  in  the  dogma,  generally 
held  by  Socialists,  that  private  ownership  of  land,  or  of  the  means 
of  production  in  general,  is  intrinsically  wrong,  or  at  any  rate  can 
be  made  so  by  popular  consent.  Some  Socialists,  still  recognizing 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  Divine  law,  would  content  themselves 
with  declaring  that  private  ownership  is  contrary  to  this  law; 
but  others  ignore  the  existence  of  any  such  law.  Now  the  Catholic 
Church  not  only  holds  that  there  is  such  a  law,  but  also  that 
private  ownership  is  not  forbidden  by  it ;  and  that  no  vote  or  consent 
of  mankind  can  make  it  otherwise.  The  Church  of  course  admits 
that  a  man  may  lawfully  abandon  this  right;  but  she  denies  that 
he  can  be  forced  to  do  so.  In  what  are  called  the  solemn  vows  of 
her  religious  orders,  such  an  abandonment  is  made,  but  the  Church 
takes  extreme  care  that  it  should  be  perfectly  and  absolutely  volun- 
tary, and  that  even  such  vows  do  not  radically  abolish  the  capacity 
of  those  who  make  them  to  hold  property,  so  that  if  circumstances 
justify  it,  in  the  judgment  of  the  Church,  the  capacity  may  return. 

The  words  of  our  Lord  Himself,  Whom  some  Socialists  are 
desirous  to  claim  as  the  first  of  their  number,  are  quite  explicit  to 
this  effect.  We  read  in  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  (chap,  xix.) — and 
the  same  event  is  also  recorded  by  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke — that 
a  rich  young  man  came  to  our  Lord,  and  inquired  what  he  should 
do  to  have  life  everlasting.  Our  Lord  told  him  that  he  should 
keep  the  commandments ;  and  on  the  young  man's  asking  Him  what 
commandments  He  meant,  He  mentioned  several  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments of  the  Decalogue,  adding  also  that  of  loving  one's 
neighbor  as  oneself.  One  of  the  Commandments  He  mentioned 


446       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       [July, 

was,  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal."  The  young  man  answered  that 
he  had  kept  all  these.  Our  Lord  did  not  say,  "  No,  you  have  not, 
for  you  have  no  right  to  possess  private  property  of  your  own, 
for  you,  in  doing  so,  are  taking  what  belongs  to  the  community." 
No,  He  acknowledged  that  the  lawful  possession  of  private  prop- 
erty is  not  stealing.  But  on  the  young  man  asking  what  yet  was 
wanting  to  him,  our  Lord  said,  "  If  thou  wilt  be  perfect,  go  sell 
what  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure 
in  heaven;  and  come,  follow  me."  In  other  words,  "Join  our 
community."  You  will  notice  that  He  told  the  young  man  to  sell 
what  he  had.  But  how  could  he  sell  it,  if  it  was  not  really  his 
to  sell?  Now  notice  just  what  these  words  of  our  Lord  were  in 
reply  to  the  young  man's  repeated  question.  He  told  him  to  sell 
what  he  had  and  give  the  money  to  the  poor.  But  He  did  not 
absolutely  require  this.  He  told  the  young  man  to  do  this,  if  he 
wanted  to  be  perfect. 

Now  the  Catholic,  and  really  the  only  possible,  explanation  of 
these  last  words  is  that  there  are  some  things  which  a  man  may  do 
to  please  God,  but  which  are  not  required  as  of  obligation,  or  under 
pain  of  sin.  These  are  known  in  the  Church  not  as  laws,  but  as 
"  counsels  of  perfection."  They  principally  come  under  three 
heads:  namely,  the  renunciation  of  property,  of  marriage,  and  of 
one's  own  will  by  obedience  to  someone  to  whom  one  gives  a  right 
to  require  it  in  the  name  of  God.  This  obedience,  of  course,  only 
extends  to  actions  not  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God,  or  of  some 
regularly  constituted  general  authority — as  that  of  the  State — 
acting  also,  of  course,  in  a  way  not  contrary  to  the  Divine  law. 

St.  Paul  writes  specially  in  his  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians 
(chap,  vii.)  of  the  second  of  the  counsels  just  named.  He  himself 
had  never  married.  He  says,  "  I  would  that  all  men  were  even 
as  myself;  but  everyone  hath  his  proper  gift  from  God;  one  after 
this  manner,  and  another  after  that.  But  I  say  to  the  unmarried, 
and  to  the  widows:  it  is  good  for  them  if  they  so  continue,  even 
as  I.  But  if  they  do  not  contain  themselves,  let  them  marry." 

Now  in  religious  communities  or  orders,  sanctioned  by  the 
Church,  which  may  be  said  to  be  on  the  socialist  principle  as  to 
property,  the  two  other  counsels  which  have  been  named  form  a 
regular  part  of  their  rule.  To  give  greater  security,  as  well  as  merit 
in  their  observance,  all  three  are  usually  strengthened  by  vows 
to  be  faithful  to  them.  When  these  vows  are  taken,  they  of  course 
becpme  not  merely  counsels,  but  real  laws  of  conscience;  that  of 
obedience,  however,  only  being  so  under  the  restrictions  mentioned 


1913-]       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       447 

above.  No  religious  Superior  can  require  anything  contrary  to 
the  laws  of  God,  or  of  the  regular  and  general  authorities  which 
God  has  established. 

These  religious  communities  have  been  the  only  experiments  on 
the  socialist  principle  with  regard  to  the  first  counsel,  that  of  the 
renunciation  of  private  property,  which  have  ever  succeeded  for 
any  length  of  time.  And  notice  that  they  all  rest  in  the  beginning, 
for  each  individual,  on  a  voluntary  act  on  his  or  her  part.  And, 
also,  the  Church  has  always  regarded  this  act  as  one  resulting  from 
a  special  call  or  inspiration  on  God's  part.  She  has  distinctly, 
especially  at  the  Council  of  Trent,  forbidden  even  parents  to  com- 
pel their  children  to  make  such  an  act.  She  holds  that,  as  St. 
Paul  says,  everyone  has  his  proper  gift  from  God.  This  gift  from 
God  she  calls  a  "  vocation."  And  she  requires  such  a  vocation  even 
for  the  priesthood,  on  account  of  the  second  counsel  as  well  as  on  ac- 
count of  the  special  sacred  duties  and  responsibilities  which  those 
becoming  priests  undertake.  She  even  requires  this  vocation  for  the 
orders  preparatory  for  the  priesthood,  of  deacon  and  subdeacon. 

It  is  or  should  be  plain,  then,  why  the  Church  does  not  and 
cannot  look  with  favor  on  the  idea  of  making  the  socialist  regime 
or  arrangement  binding  by  law  on  all  citizens  of  the  State  at  large. 
It  can  only  work  successfully  when  adopted  by  each  individual 
with  absolute  freedom  of  choice,  and,  moreover,  with  a  special  Di- 
vine call.  To  establish  it  as  the  right  course  for  all,  is  in  her  judg- 
ment simply  a  case  of  "  fools  rushing  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread." 

"  But,"  it  may  be  asked,  "  if  this  life  in  community,  with  prop- 
erty in  common,  is  so  pleasing  to  God,  why  should  He  not  give 
this  special  call  to  all  who  would  like  to  have  it,  and  make  it  a 
success  for  everyone,  instead  of  merely  for  a  few?."  That  is  a 
question  which  may  be  interesting,  but  one  which  no  one  has  any 
Divine  commission  to  answer.  The  important  fact  is  simply  that 
He  does  not,  and  that  there  is  no  reason  to  think  He  ever  will. 
With  all  the  care,  both  for  the  sake  of  the  community  and  of  the 
individual,  that  the  Church  takes  in  the  matter,  there  are  many  who, 
though  at  first  fully  persuaded  that  they  have  a  vocation  to  this 
common  or — as  we  call  it — religious  life,  find  on  trial  that  they 
must  have  been  mistaken.  An  actual  trial  of  it  is  usually  necessary, 
and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  Church  insists  on  what  is  called 
a  novitiate,  or  time  of  experiment  for  everyone  desiring  to  engage 
in  it.  It  is  not  probable  that  many  who  have  a  Divine  vocation  to  it 
refuse  to  make  this  experiment;  so  there  cannot  be  many  who  would 
succeed  in  it  outside  of  those  who  actually  try.  But  the  proportion 


448       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       [July, 

of  those  who  even  try  is  exceedingly  small,  and  many  of  those  who 
do  try  fail.  So  it  is  evident  that  a  vocation  to  it  is  a  very  rare 
one,  even  among  Catholics,  who  have  every  encouragement  to  make 
the  trial. 

It  does  not,  then,  require  any  great  perspicacity  to  see  what 
would  be  the  result  if  everyone  should  be  required  to  make  it. 
All  would  like  to  have  it  tried,  if  it  simply  meant  that  they  should 
have  a  share  of  other  people's  property;  but  when  it  came  to  giving 
up  their  own,  the  result  would  not  be  satisfactory,  even  if  their  own 
subsistence  were  secure,  as  is  the  case  in  most  of  the  religious  com- 
munities of  the  Church.  There  is  absolutely  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  if  all  were  required  to  adopt  the  socialist  manner  of  life, 
all  would  be  contented  with  it.  In  our  religious  communities,  those 
who  find,  in  the  novitiate,  that  it  does  not  suit  them  can  leave; 
and  indeed  they  can  do  so  even  afterward.  No  force  compels 
them  to  remain.  And  they  can  even  obtain  proper  permission  to 
do  so.  But  in  a  socialist  state,  comprising  all  citizens,  such  would 
not  be  the  case.  The  great  majority,  in  fact,  would,  if  not  re- 
turning by  a  revolution  to  the  previous  conditions,  return  to  them 
individually  by  disregarding  its  regulations  so  far  as  possible, 
and  by  securing  for  their  own  use  as  large  a  share  of  the  goods 
of  life  as  they  were  able.  You  can  say  no  one  can  consider  any- 
thing as  his  own;  but  you  cannot  prevent  his  using  it  as  his  own, 
if  he  wishes,  and  has  an  opportunity  to  do  so.  And,  furthermore, 
there  must  be  officials  of  some  kind  in  the  social  state,  as  well  as 
in  any  other;  indeed  everyone  in  it  would  be  a  sort  of  official, 
with  regular  duties  and  responsibilities.  In  other  words,  you  can- 
not prevent  what  is  known  as  "  grafting  "  any  better  under  Social- 
ism than  you  can  as  things  are  now.  The  only  thing  that  can  effec- 
tually prevent  it  is  conscience,  which  says  to  a  man :  "  Thou  shalt 
not  steal;"  and  the  force  of  this  Commandment  is  much  weakened 
if  you  tell  him  that  no  individual  has  any  real  right  to  property. 
As  it  is  now,  people  have  much  less  scruple  against  defrauding  the 
government  than  they  have  against  cheating  an  individual;  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  the  government,  in  a  socialist  form,  should 
acquire  a  peculiar  sanctity  in  the  general  estimation. 

The  only  way  in  which  a  socialistic  government  can  hope  to  suc- 
ceed would  be  that  in  which  those  of  the  religious  orders  succeed, 
that  is  to  say,  by-  an  enthusiastic  and  persistent  devotion  to  its  prin- 
ciples on  the  part  of  the  whole  people.  Simply  establishing  it  will 
not  produce  such  a  devotion. 

Of  course  Socialists  claim  that  if  it  is  once  introduced,  every- 


1913-]       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       449 

one  will  find  its  results  so  agreeable  that  such  a  devotion  to  it  will 
arise.  But  that  is  a  mere  assertion,  not  borne  out  by  facts,  even  in 
the  case  of  religious  communities,  which  always  tend  to  lose  their 
first  fervor  instead  of  increasing  it,  though  every  individual  mem- 
ber has  in  the  first  place  entered  upon  this  life  voluntarily. 

For  this  common  sense  reason,  the  propaganda  of  Socialism,  if 
carefully  considered,  even  though  merely  advocating  that  all  should 
begin  by  entering  on  it  voluntarily,  cannot  be  considered  as  resting 
on  a  sound  basis.  Human  nature  cannot  be  expected  to  undergo 
a  complete  and  radical  change.  If  such  a  change,  or  rather  such  a 
victory  over  human  nature,  can  only  be  expected  in  those  who  are 
the  very  best  disposed,  and  the  least  selfish  of  all,  who  have  made  the 
sacrifice  of  their  own  property,  and  of  all  except  the  necessities 
of  life,  in  a  Catholic  religious  order,  and  if  even  some  of  these  fail 
to  persevere  in  these  unselfish  dispositions;  how  can  it  be  expected 
to  continue  steadily,  even  in  those  who  first  entered  into  the  so- 
cialistic agreement ;  and  how  much  less  can  this  be  expected  in  their 
children  and  their  children's  children,  or  in  immigrants  who  for 
various  reasons  enter  into  a  socialistic  state?  There  are  quite 
enough  as  it  is  who  refuse  to  admit  the  obligation  in  conscience  of 
submitting  to  any  government  at  all ;  anarchists  we  call  them.  How 
many  more  will  there  be  if  sacrifices  such  as  the  socialistic  plan 
requires  are  exacted  of  them?  Even  if  you  succeed  in  convincing 
them  that  private  ownership  is  essentially  wrong,  or  can  be  made 
so  by  popular  vote,  how  can  you  expect  them  to  persevere  in  this 
conviction,  or  to  receive  it  as  a  certain  dogma  from  their  prede- 
cessors, in  face  of  the  numerous  and  urgent  temptations  to  a 
contrary  opinion? 

No;  Socialism,  even  if  adopted  in  the  only  possible  way  that 
the  Church  could  approve,  that  is  to  say  in  the  way  in  which  it 
exists  in  her  religious  orders,  by  a  perfectly  free  and  voluntary 
consent,  would,  as  was  said  in  the  beginning,  lead  only  to  disaster; 
simply  because  it  is  certain  that  the  consent  of  human  nature 
to  it  would  not  persevere.  Catholics  hold  that  perseverance  in  the 
voluntary  poverty  of  the  religious  life  can  only  be  obtained  by  a 
special  grace  or  supernatural  help  from  God,  which  He  will  grant 
to  those  whom  He  has  called  to  that  special  virtue,  but  which  it 
would  be  rash  to  expect  without  such  a  call.  To  expect  everyone 
to  persevere  in  it,  simply  because  they  had,  even  voluntarily,  begun, 
would  really  be  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  rash  as  to  expect  men  in 
general  to  keep  absolute  virginity  through  life,  which  is  of  course 

VOL.   XCVII. — 2Q 


450       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       [July, 

the  only  lawful  alternative  to  the  state  of  matrimony.  And  if  the 
poverty  of  the  religious  life  is  not  kept  perfectly,  the  evil  only 
affects  the  delinquent,  or  at  most  the  particular  religious  house 
to  which  his  example  may  spread;  and,  moreover,  if  he  finds  his 
virtue  inadequate  to  it,  he  can  be  permitted  to  go.  But  in  attempt- 
ing the  same  thing  in  a  whole  nation,  the  government  will  be  a  fail- 
ure, either  by  the  neglect  of  its  principles  or  the  departure  of  its 
citizens.  The  idea  that  everyone  will  be  even  a  passably  good 
citizen  under  it,  is  simply  a  rose-colored  dream.  It  invites  and  is 
sure  to  lead  to  corruption,  and  consequent  failure  and  disaster; 
for  it  is  asking  from  nature  more  than  it  can  accomplish  without 
a  special  supernatural  help.  The  world  in  general  may  not  believe 
this,  but  we  Catholics,  if  understanding  our  religion,  know  that  it 
is  true.  This  is  a  quite  sufficient  reason  for  us  to  oppose  the 
socialist  plan. 

Strangely  enough,  there  is  another  of  the  special  virtues  be- 
longing to  religious  communities  which  Socialists  would  force  on 
the  public  at  large.  This  is,  evidently,  the  virtue  of  religious 
obedience.  The  socialist  plan  necessarily  involves  this.  In  the 
present  state  of  things,  as  far  as  the  government  is  concerned, 
a  man  is  quite  probably  able  to  fit  himself  for  and  enter  upon  any 
occupation  which  seems  to  him  most  agreeable  and  suitable  to  him. 
But  on  the  socialist  plan  he  must  be  assigned  to  his  occupation 
according  to  the  needs  of  the  community,  rather  than  his  own 
preference.  He  is  to  be  assigned  to  his  post  very  much  like  an 
officer  or  soldier  in  an  army.  Some  pressure  may,  of  course, 
under  the  present  system,  be  put  on  a  young  man  in  this  way  by 
his  parents  or  others;  but  he  can  generally  manage,  if  he  has  a 
decided  preference,  to  gratify  his  own  desire.  He  may  want,  for 
instance,  to  become  a  medical  man;  and  probably  be  able,  at  least, 
to  try.  But  in  Socialism,  the  government  must  decide  what  will 
be  the  best  disposal  of  him  for  the  common  good.  If  it  considers 
that  there  are  enough  doctors  already,  or  that  he  could  do  better 
at  something  else,  off  he  goes  to  that  something  else.  He  is, 
indeed,  very  much  like  a  Jesuit;  for  the  Jesuits  make  a  special 
point  of  the  virtue  of  obedience.  But  there  are  not  so  very  many 
Catholics  who  have  a  real  vocation  to  be  Jesuits.  The  socialist 
young  man,  however,  has  to  be  as  good  a  Jesuit  as  he  can,  without 
any  special  vocation.  From  our  somewhat  extended  experience, 
success  is  hardly  probable.  It  is  not  likely,  indeed,  that  he  will 
even  desire  it.  Love  of  the  socialist  regime,  even  if  he  has  it,  is 
far  from  being  as  strong  a  motive  as  the  love  of  God. 


1913-]       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       451 

It  would  seem,  then,  very  improbable  that  Socialism  can  suc- 
ceed in  enabling  the  average  citizen  to  sacrifice  his  liberty  in  the 
way  that  it  is  sacrificed  in  religious  communities.  It  is  liberty 
which  is  more  prized  than  anything  else  by  men,  especially  at  the 
present  day  and  in  a  country  like  ours;  and  the  restraints  placed 
on  it  by  government  are  very  slight  with  us.  But  Socialism  in- 
creases them  very  decidedly.  The  only  way  in  which  the  obedience 
of  a  religious  community  can  be  observed  is  by  regarding  it  as 
paid  to  God  through  His  representative  in  the  Superior;  and  So- 
cialism does  not  present  this  motive  to  us.  Religion  is  a  side  issue 
with  it;  a  man  may  be  religious  if  he  wishes;  it  does  not  under- 
take to  prevent  him  from  being  so ;  but  certainly  religion  has  nothing 
to  do,  in  the  socialist  idea,  with  his  duties  in  the  State. 

If  we  now  consider  the  remaining  one  of  the  three  virtues  of 
the  religious  community  life,  that  of  absolute  chastity,  it  is  quite 
evident  that  this  does  not  and  cannot  form  a  part  of  the  socialist 
plan,  unless,  as  among  some  non-Catholic  communities  like  the 
Shakers,  inviting  all  to  join  them,  it  were  proposed  as  a  fitting 
preparation  for  the  end  of  the  human  race.  Socialism  may  then 
be  considered  as  being  the  community  life  on  the  basis  of  the  other 
two  virtues  of  poverty  and  obedience;  in  other  words,  of  the  re- 
nunciation of  individual  ownership  and  of  individual  will.  But 
even  with  these  it  is  quite  arduous,  as  has  been  seen. 

It  may  be  presumed  that  for  absolute  chastity,  Socialism  would 
substitute  the  married  state,  as  the  world  in  general  does  now, 
always  has,  and  always  will.  If  it  would  abandon  the  idea  of  union 
for  life  in  marriage,  that  of  course  would  be  more  than  enough 
to  make  any  approval  of  it  by  the  Church  utterly  impossible.  We 
would  need  nothing  more  to  show  why  it  could  not  be  accepted  by 
us.  We  assume,  then,  that  Socialism  is  to  include  marriage  and 
the  natural  existence  of  families. 

But  here,  again,  a  difficulty  immediately  arises,  namely,  who  is 
to  have  charge  of  the  family?  The  logical  conclusion  of  the  so- 
cialistic scheme  would  seem  to  be  that  the  ownership  of  it,  as  of 
property,  must  reside  in  the  State.  It  must  be  supposed  to  belong 
to  the  State,  though  perhaps  under  the  principal  care  of  the 
parents.  But  radically,  like  everything  else,  it  must  be  a  State 
asset,  and  to  be  taken  care  of  as  the  State  directs.  And  this  seems 
to  be  the  usual  socialist  view,  as  actually  held  by  those  who  thor- 
oughly develop  that  view  or  theory. 

Now  here  we  have  an  irreconcilable  difference  between  the 


452       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM       [July, 

teaching  of  Socialism  and  of  the  Church.  In  the  Catholic  view  it  is 
to  the  parents,  not  to  the  State,  that  the  direction  of  the  children 
is  divinely  committed.  Even  in  case  of  the  neglect  of  the  parents, 
or  of  their  death,  the  State  has  no  absolute  right  over  them.  It 
only  has  the  right  to  see  that  they  are  brought  up  to  be  good 
citizens,  not  to  injure  the  State  or  their  fellow-citizens,  and  to 
obey  the  laws  of  the  State  when  these  are  not  contrary  to  the  law 
of  God.  It  must  leave  them  to  the  control  of  the  parents  in  other 
matters,  as  long  as  they  need  such  control.  They  are  the  natural 
guardians  of  their  own  children,  and  the  State  must  not  take  this 
natural  and  Divine  right  of  guardianship  from  them. 

The  parents  are  responsible  to  the  State,  in  some  matters,  as 
has  just  been  said;  but  beside  this  the  Catholic  view  is  that 
Catholic  parents  are  also  responsible  to  the  Church  in  other  matters, 
particularly  in  regard  to  the  religious  instruction  of  their  chil- 
dren. And  it  is  here  that  practically  a  very  serious  Catholic  ob- 
jection to  Socialism  comes  in. 

This  difficulty  is  felt  even  now  to  a  great  extent  in  the  exag- 
gerated ideas  prevalent  as  to  the  functions  of  the  State  in  this 
matter.  And  it  would,  in  all  probability,  be  much  increased  by  the 
still  more  exaggerated  idea  of  the  State  which  is  inherent  in  the 
socialistic  theory. 

Religion,  with  us,  is  not  simply  a  matter  of  sentiment,  to  be 
felt  or  carried  out  by  each  individual  according  to  his  own  private 
taste  or  preference.  It  is,  in  our  view  and  belief,  a  system  of 
truths  and  consequent  practical  duties  coming  to  us  as  a  revelation 
from  God,  through  Christ  and  His  Apostles,  and  committed  to  an 
organization  founded  by  Divine  authority,  and  known  to  us  as  the 
Church.  We  do  not  regard  the  Church  as  simply  a  society  like 
others  in  general,  based  on  mutual  consent  and  for  mutual  con- 
venience. No ;  we  look  upon  it  as  a  Divine  association,  into  which 
Almighty  God  requires  that  all  should  enter,  though  many  may 
be  excused  from  sin  in  not  doing  so  by  ignorance  of  its  claims. 
But  for  those  who  do  belong  to  it,  its  orders,  when  acting  in  its 
proper  spiritual  sphere,  are  as  binding  as  any  laws  of  any  State 
can  be.  And  we  cannot  agree  that  any  secular  government  has 
a  right  to  override  its  orders,  or  ignore  its  laws,  even  though  that 
government,  personally,  should  be  in  the  hands  of  men  who  are 
Catholics;  and  still  greater,  necessarily,  is  the  difficulty  if  they 
happen  to  be  men  who  do  not  recognize  the  claims  of  the  Church, 
or»  who  perhaps  are  infidels  or  even  atheists. 


1913.]       THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  SOCIALISM      453 

There  is  no  need  that  we  should  prove  our  position  on  this 
point  at  present,  or  even  to  show  any  reason  for  it;  we  are  only 
saying  what  the  fact  is  with  regard  to  our  belief  in  this  matter; 
and  why,  finding  considerable  difficulty  as  we  do  from  the  opposi- 
tion to  this  belief  generally  prevailing  now,  we  cannot  be  inclined 
to  accept  a  system  like  Socialism,  in  which  the  difficulties,  owing 
to  the  overweening  claims  of  the  secular  authority  under  the  system, 
would  become  much  greater  than  they  are.  The  probability,  of 
course,  with  regard  to  the  last  point,  concerning  the  family  and 
children,  is  that  the  Socialist  State  would  insist  on  Socialism  being 
taught  in  all  schools,  and  the  Catholic  view  of  the  authority  of  the 
Church  being  entirely  repudiated. 

Let  it  be  thoroughly  understood  then,  that 

1.  The  Church  does  not  reject  Socialism  in  the  sense  of  a 
voluntary  agreement  as  to  the  renunciation  of  individual  property, 
or  the  sacrifice  of  the  individual  will  among  a  certain  number  of 
chosen  souls  called  by  God  to  this  renunciation  and  sacrifice,  and 
specially  aided  by  His  grace  to  carry  it  out. 

2.  She  does  absolutely  reject  it  as  far  as  it  teaches  that  indi- 
vidual ownership  is  forbidden  to  all,  or  that  the  only  right  condition 
of  things  in  any  nation  is  the  thorough  subjection  of  all  to  the 
State  system  which  Socialism  proposes. 

3.  She  holds  that  this  system,  so  far  from  being  the  only 
right  system,  is  fraught  with  great  dangers  to  the  liberty  which  we 
all  so  highly  prize;  since  it  is  not  in  human  nature,  unaided  by  a 
special  grace,  to  carry  it  out  in  the  perfection  necessary  to  its 
success;  and  that,  therefore,  corruption  is  sure  to  ensue  in  it,  and 
the  virtues  which  it  requires  to  become  tyranny  on  the  part  of 
some,  slavery  on  that  of  others. 

Now,  in  conclusion,  it  must  also  be  thoroughly  understood  that 
the  Church  fully  realizes  the  great  evils  which  have  grown  up  by 
the  accumulation  of  immense  amounts  of  wealth  in  the  hands  of 
a  few,  which  threatens  to  reduce  the  great  majority  of  mankind 
to  a  condition  of  practical  slavery,  and  that  she  sympathizes  with 
the  advocates  of  Socialism  in  their  desire  to  abolish  these  evils;  but 
that  she  simply  rejects  this  special  plan  as  being  primarily 
founded  on  statements  as  to  human  rights  which  are  absolutely 
false,  and  which,  if  carried  out  in  practice,  would  tend  to  increase 
these  very  evils  rather  than  to  abate  them. 


THE  RED  ASCENT. 


BY  ESTHER  W.   NEILL. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

N  the  way  home  Richard  was  very  silent,  Betty  chat- 
tered volubly.  "  Didn't  the  knight  in  armor  look 
like  a  frying  pan  ?  How  could  he  dance  in  all  those 
clattering  clothes?  Wasn't  Boy  Blue  a  dear? 
Would  you  believe  that  Bob  Fairfax  could  look  beau- 
tiful? Where  did  Queen  Elizabeth  buy  that  absurd  ruff?  Wasn't 
the  house  gorgeous?  Didn't  the  grounds  look  like  fairyland? 
Wasn't  Jess  Fielding  an  ideal  hostess?  Wasn't  the  supper  elabor- 
ate? A  caterer  brought  the  things  on  a  special  car.  What  was 
the  salad  made  of  ?  Did  the  punch  have  champagne  in  it  ?  Which 
costume  was  the  most  mystifying?  "  At  last  she  paused  for  a  re- 
sponse. 

"  Since  I  did  not  know  the  people  they  all  seemed  mystifying 
to  me." 

"  Why  you  knew  Bob  Fairfax,  and  Jim  Peyton,  and  Tom 
Bird." 

"  I  hadn't  seen  any  of  them  for  twelve  years." 

"  Didn't  you  see  any  of  them  when  you  were  here  two  years 
ago?" 

"  No  they  were  all  away,  trying  to  make  a  living  I  guess." 

"  They  come  and  visit  their  old  homes  in  the  summer,  then  the 
county  wakes  up.  Oh,  I  suppose  we  shall  be  very  gay  for  a  month 
or  two,  and  then  we  shall  stagnate  again.  Someone  told  me  that 
Jess  Fielding  means  to  give  a  series  of  parties,  but  I  don't  suppose 
they  will  be  as  beautiful  as  this  one.  Why  every  man  there  was  a 
picture,  and  the  girls — I  have  never  seen  so  many  lovely  girls. 
Which  one  did  you  like  best  ?  " 

"I  only  talked- to  one." 

"  And  who  was  she  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Couldn't  you  guess  ?  Didn't  you  see  her  when  she  un- 
masked?" 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  455 

"  She  wasn't  there." 

"  Why,  Dick,  she  must  have  been  there.  No  girl  would  have 
missed  the  fun  of  unmasking;  no  girl  would  leave  before  the  re- 
freshments were  served." 

"  She  did." 

"What  did  she  have  on?" 

"  She  was  dressed  as  Fire." 

"  Betty  laughed  softly.     "  Don't  you  know  who  that  was  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  She  changed  her  dress." 

"What  for?" 

"  To  fool  you,  I  guess.  Her  costume  was  so  extraordinary  I 
should  think  she  would  have  liked  to  keep  it  on." 

"Who  was  she?" 

"  Men  are  stupid,"  said  Betty.  "  I've  always  believed  you  were 
wonderfully  clever,  but  I'll  have  to  change  my  mind.  Did  you  have 
a  good  time?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  did  or  not." 

"  But  it  wasn't  quite  the  bore  that  you  thought  it  would  be  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  smiled,  "  I  believe  I  can  truthfully  admit  that." 

"  Did  you  find  Fire  interesting?  " 

"  She  was  surprising." 

"  What  did  you  talk  about?  " 

He  hesitated.     "  I  believe  we  talked  about  ourselves." 

"  All  men  enjoy  that,"  said  Betty  sagely.  "  I  begin  to  have 
hopes  of  you,  Dicky;  Jess  Fielding  seemed  to  go  out  of  her  way 
to  please  you.  There  were  two  or  three  men  there  who  were 
insanely  jealous  because  she  chose  you  to  bring  her  to  supper." 

"  She  didn't  choose  me.  It  was  an  accident.  The  party  had 
one  serious  side.  The  little  old  lady  who  chaperones  Miss  Field- 
ing fainted  on  the  porch.  I  had  to  carry  her  upstairs." 

"  Dear  me !     How  romantic.     What  made  her?  " 

"I  believe  I  frightened  her." 

"Why,  Dick!" 

"  Oh,  it  was  the  old,  worn  story  of  a  soldier  lover  or  some- 
thing. She  seems  very  old  for  that  sort  of  nonsense;  but  I  be- 
lieve she  has  made  a  study  of  spiritualism  until  she  half  believes 
she  can  see  ghosts.  And  in  this  case  it  wasn't  so  absurd  because 
she  took  me  for  my  grandfather." 

'  You  do  look  like  his  picture,"  said  Betty  with  conviction, 
"  and  I  suppose  the  uniform  was  startling.  I  wonder  if  anybody 


456  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

ever  lives  single  nowadays  because  he  or  she  can't  get  the  one   • 
desired." 

Richard  laughed.  "  Whom  does  one  marry,  then,  Betty,  dear ; 
somebody  one  doesn't  want?" 

"  Somebody  that  asks  her,"  answered  Betty  solemnly.  "  I 
don't  think  it's  quite  fair  that  girls  are  not  given  the  choosing." 

"  I  thought  they  were,"  he  said  without  much  interest. 

"  Some  people  have  so  few  opportunities,"  she  went  on  reflec- 
tively ;  "  of  course  there  are  girls  like  Jess  Fielding  who  can  travel 
everywhere,  meet  all  sorts  of  men,  entertain  lavishly,  and  dress 
like  princesses.  I'm  sure  they  can  pick  and  choose.  Why  that 
dress  she  had  on  to-night  must  have  cost  five  or  six  dollars  a  yard. 
"It  was  a  sort  of  golden  gauze.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it." 

"  Why  I  thought  she  had  on  white." 

"  Why,  Dick,  she  was  dressed  as  Fire.  Don't  tell  me  that  you 
are  such  a  stupid  as  not  to  guess  that  before?  You  certainly  will 
never  make  a  ladies'  man." 

"  I  guess  not,"  he  said  after  a  long  pause. 

Betty  was  right,  he  had  been  "  stupid."  What  other  girl  ex- 
cept Jess  Fielding  would  have  talked  to  him  in  that  amazing  way? 
She  had  tried  to  disguise  her  voice,  but  her  conversation  to-night 
.seemed  a  part  of  that  other  interview  he  had  had  with  her  at  the 
.swimming  pool.  He  found  himself  rehearsing  every  remark  she 
3iad  made.  What  had  she  meant  by  saying  that  he  would  not 
iorget  her?  Was  it  true?  Did  she  really  mean  that  he  had  always 
Hield  a  place  in  her  memory,  or  had  she  talked  only  to  tease  and 
"bewilder  him? 

As  they  drove  along  in  silence  under  the  steely  glitter  of  the 
stars,  fragments  of  his  grandfather's  love  letters  came  back  to  him, 
and  he  began  to  understand  vaguely  that  it  was  possible  for  a 
woman  to  command  a  man's  whole  mind  until  she  actually  absorbed 
him. 

But  when  they  reached  home,  he  put  all  thought  of  her  aside. 
The  whole  evening  had  seemed  unreal — a  page  from  his  half -for- 
gotten fairy  books  that  had  charmed  his  imagination,  but  which  had 
no  part  in  a  utilitarian  world  where  resistless  forces  chain  down 
the  spirit  of  the  dreamer. 

Betty  jumped  out  of  the  buggy,  and  ran  into  the  house,  while 
he  continued  on  his  way  to  the  stable;  old  Pedro  had  to  be  un- 
hitched and  watered,  and  by  the  time  Richard  entered  his  own 
bedroom,  it  was  after  two  o'clock.  He  threw  himself  upon  the 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  457 

bed  to  rest  for  a  moment,  and  he  slept  soundly  until  morning, 
dressed  in  his  full  uniform ;  the  prophecy  of  Fire  had  partly  failed. 
He  had  been  too  tired  to  remember. 

The  days  began  again  monotonously,  the  garden  beds  must  be 
weeded  and  sprayed;  all  kinds  of  living  things  seemed  to  spring 
up  to  devour  the  fresh  green  leaves  of  the  vegetables.  He  sent 
to  the  nearest  manufacturing  town  and  bought  a  sprayer,  daring 
to  purchase  it  upon  the  installment  plan,  and  he  began  to  make  a 
study  of  chemical  solutions,  endeavoring  to  find  the  most  economical, 
as  well  as  the  most  efficacious,  for  his  needs.  He  was  trying  some 
experiments  in  intensive  farming,  and  he  was  becoming  interested 
in  spite  of  the  labor  it  entailed. 

One  morning  when  he  was  hard  at  work  in  one  of  the  outlying 
fields,  he  saw  Miss  Fielding  come  riding  on  horseback  down  the 
unfrequented  road.  He  pulled  his  battered  straw  hat  over  his  eyes, 
hoping  that  she  would  pass  him  by,  for  his  clothes  were  mud  daubed 
and  his  shoes  showed  a  long  rent  in  the  side ;  but  she  stopped  at  the 
fence  and  called :  "  May  I  come  in  for  a  moment  ?  " 

He  answered  her  with  what  cordiality  he  could,  and  started 
towards  her  to  open  the  gate,  but  before  he  reached  it  she  had 
urged  her  horse  to  the  high  jump,  and  Richard  trembled  for  her 
safety,  even  while  he  admired  her  skillful  horsemanship,  as  he  saw 
her  clear  the  five  bars  of  the  sagging  gate. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  prove  to  you  that  I  can  ride,"  she  said  laugh- 
ing. "  I  don't  always  land  in  mud  puddles.  Warm  weather  for 
that  sort  of  thing.  I  know  you  are  busy,  but  I  want  you  to  look  at 
these  plans  for  a  moment,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  them.  I  call 
them  my  Christmas  tree  village." 

She  held  out  a  roll  of  papers  to  him,  and  he  took  it  gingerly 
in  his  dusty  hands.  "  Christmas,"  he  repeated,  "  its  nearer  Fourth 
of  July."  * 

"  Please  don't  be  so  exact,"  she  entreated.  "  Didn't  you  ever 
have  Christmas  trees  when  you  were  a  boy,  and  didn't  they  have 
green  moss  gardens  underneath,  and  neat  little  white  houses  perched 
on  the  edge  of  a  looking-glass  lake?  I  arn  building  some  homes  for 
those  poor  creatures  at  the  mines.  I'm  sure  you  put  the  notion  in 
my  head.  I  drew  the  plans  roughly,  and  gave  them  to  an  architect 
to  work  out  for  me.  Those  are  the  blue  prints.  I  want  to  know 
what  you  think  of  them." 

He  opened  them  with  eagerness.  He  was  forgetful  now  of  his 
own  personal  appearance.  "  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  said  en- 


458  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

thusiastically.  "  I  see  you  have  planned  for  detached  houses,  that's 
fine;  they  can  all  have  flower  gardens.  This  kitchen  seems  very 
practical,  stationary  tubs  and  running  water  will  save  lots  of  labor, 
but  I  don't  like  the  roof,  it's  too  flat." 

"  Why  what's  the  matter  with  a  flat  roof  ?  " 

"  Makes  the  house  too  hot  in  summer,  unless  it  has  some  sort 
of  an  air  chamber  above." 

"  Then  put  a  peak  on  it." 

He  took  the  handle  of  his  hoe  and  began  drawing  a  plan  in 
the  dust  of  the  roadway.  "  That  would  be  my  idea;  I  don't  believe 
it  would  add  greatly  to  the  expense." 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  does,"  she  said.  "  Now  give  me  the  blue 
prints  and  I'll  go.  This  sun  is  terrible,  I  must  get  home.  You 
had  better  stop  work  for  the  day." 

"  I  can't  do  that,"  he  said  hopelessly. 

After  she  had  gone  he  wondered  why  he  had  not  tried  to  keep 
her.  Why  had  he  not,  at  least,  offered  her  the  hospitality  of  the 
house?  Betty  would  have  been  glad  to  see  her,  and  the  big  dark- 
ened parlor  promised  cool  and  comfort  after  the  glare  of  the  sun 
on  the  roads.  He  might  have  joined  her  there  at  lunch  time. 
Perhaps  she  would  have  played  for  him  on  the  old  piano  that  had 
belonged  to  his  mother — perhaps  she  could  sing.  It  had  been  so 
long  since  he  had  heard  any  good  music,  and  he  had  learned  to 
appreciate  the  best  during  his  brief  sojourns  in  Europe,  until  the 
lack  of  it  was  a  distinct  privation  whenever  he  allowed  himself  to 
think  about  it. 

The  day  grew  warmer;  the  sun  shone,  a  red-eyed  monster, 
threatening  to  wither  and  burn  the  far-reaching  acres  of.  corn  where 
lay  Richard's  only  hope  of  a  harvest.  The  ground  was  gray  and 
cracked,  thirsting  for  moisture,  and  whenever  a  breeze  ventured 
across  the  tips  of  the  cornstalks  it  brought  no  refreshment,  only 
a  hot  fog  of  whirling  dust.  Richard  prayed  for  rain.  The  heat 
had  become  intense,  and  he  had  been  at  work  ever  since  sunrise; 
towards  noon  he  turned  suddenly  sick  and  giddy,  and  he  fell  face 
downwards  in  the  cornfield,  cutting  himself  upon  the  barbed  wire 
with  which  he  had  been  repairing  the  fence. 

Then  the  rain  had  come;  great  sheets  of  water  that  brought 
renewed  life  to  all  growing  things,  rousing  Richard  from  his  semi- 
conscious state.  He  crept  back  to  the  house,  hardly  knowing  how 
he  accomplished  the  journey.  Betty  and  the  Colonel  were  sitting 
ontthe  porch. 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  459 

"  I  believe  I  have  had  a  slight  sunstroke,"  he  said  holding  to 
the  porch  railing  for  support.  "  I  believe  I  shall  have  to  go  to 
bed." 

Betty  helped  him  up  the  stairs  with  some  show  of  sisterly 
sympathy,  then  she  ran  to  the  well  for  water,  and  wetting  cloths  she 
bound  them  around  his  head. 

"  We  really  ought  to  have  ice,"  she  said  as  she  busied  herself 
with  the  bandages. 

"  Perhaps  we — will — next — year,"  he  murmured  drowsily. 

There  was  always  something  lacking — some  necessity.  Would 
he  ever  be  able  to  provide  the  simple  comforts  of  life? 

Betty  staid  by  him  for  an  hour,  then  the  sun  came  out.  "  You 
won't  mind  if  I  leave  you  now?"  she  asked.  "I  promised  Bob 
Fairfax  I  would  go  riding  with  him  this  afternoon.  He  has 
brought  a  horse  for  me  from  his  father's  stables."  She  went  to  the 
window  and  opened  the  blinds.  "  There  he  is  now.  Oh,  Dicky, 
you  won't  care  if  I  go  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not." 

After  she  left  him  the  room  seemed  unbearably  warmer,  the 
light  from  the  unshuttered  window  shone  directly  in  his  eyes,  and 
he  felt  too  weak  to  walk  that  far  to  close  the  blinds.  Flies  buzzed 
about  him  in  their  maddening  monotone,  and  lighted  on  his  face, 
his  hands,  until  in  sheer  desperation  he  covered  himself  entirely 
with  the  long  linen  sheet,  then  he  felt  that  he  was  smothering.  The 
bandages  grew  hot  upon  his  head,  he  took  them  off  and  dabbled 
them  feebly  in  the  bucket  that  stood  on  a  chair  by  the  bed,  but, 
after  an  hour  or  two,  even  the  well  water  lost  its  cool  freshness, 
the  mere  wetness  alone  was  little  comfort.  The  drippings  from  the 
bandages  soaked  his  pillow  and  attracted  more  flies.  He  had 
screened  the  other  windows  of  the  house  and  neglected  his  own. 
Why  had  Betty  left  those  shutters  open?  Must  he  go  on  forever 
exerting  every  energy,  and  asking  for  no  gratitude  or  service  in 
return  ? 

"  C-o-w — cow,  p-l-o-w — plow,"  he  began  to  spell  words  me- 
chanically. His  mind  refused  to  worry  itself  further  about  his 
bodily  neglect.  "  C-o-w,"  the  word  brought  no  image,  "  p-l-o-w," 
the  letters  were  repeated  over  and  over  again;  the  only  thing 
troubling  him  now  was  the  arranging  of  those  few  letters :  "  c-l-o-w 
—no  that  was  not  right,  p-o-w-."  Where  had  he  begun;  where 
ended?  Over  and  over  again  the  words  reiterated  themselves. 
Every  now  and  then  the  vague  fear  came  that  he  was  losing  his 


46o  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

mind,  then  the  letters  returned  again  to  plague  him,  and  he  would 
begin  to  spell  anew,  "  c-l-o-w,  p-o-w-." 

At  last  he  fell  into  a  sort  of  stupor,  and  when  he  woke  the 
room  was  bright  with  moonlight,  a  life-giving  breeze  came  in  at 
the  open  window,  and  Richard  finding  his  wet  pillows  uncom- 
fortable, staggered  to  his  feet,  and  walking  drunkenly  to  an  old 
armchair,  he  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  sleeping  in  its  moth-eaten 
depths. 

For  three  days  he  rested;  his  head  felt  so  strangely  light 
that  he  dared  not  go  out  in  the  sun,  but  he  did  not  enjoy  this  en- 
forced idleness,  so  many  neglected  tasks  seemed  piling  up  on  him 
that  he  grew  restless  and  impatient  at  the  restraint.  He  knew  that 
he  had  taxed  his  body  mercilessly,  and,  now  that  it  cried  out  for 
some  cessation  of  labor,  he  felt  that  it  was  only  prudent  to  heed 
the  warning.  He  could  not  afford  to  break  down  when  his  work 
was  barely  begun. 

During  this  period  of  convalescence,  he  turned  again  to  his 
grandfather's  letters.  Perhaps  after  all  they  might  hold  a  clue  that 
would  relieve  all  this  anxiety  about  the  future.  Now  that  the 
drudgery  of  sorting  them  was  finished,  they  promised  entertaining 
reading,  for  they  had  been  written  at  a  time  when  letter  writing 
was  considered  one  of  the  fine  arts.  Richard  turned  the  yellow 
pages  to  find  where  he  had  left  off.  He  glanced  at  some  of  the 
love  letters  that  he  had  already  read.  Somehow  they  did  not  seem 
so  extreme  to  him  now.  He  paused  for  a  moment  over  one  little 
verse  that  had  appealed  to  his  sense  of  humor — 

You  chain  my  thought  by  day  and  night, 

And  once  I  struggled  to  be  free, 
Now,  even  if  you  scorn  my  love, 

I  cannot  hope  for  liberty. 

Unconsciously  he  began  to  compose  couplets  himself. 

You  came  as  a  flame  in  the  moonlight, 
Fanned  by  an  eerie  breeze. 

He  could  think  of  nothing  to  rhyme  with  breeze  except  sneeze; 
the  homeliness  of  the  word  brought  him  back  abruptly  to  his  task. 
He  turned  away  from  the  love  letters.  They  were  wild,  passionate 
extravaganzas  with  which  he  had  nothing  to  do. 

Here  were  letters  written  many  years  before  the  war,  marking 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  461 

the  first  parting  of  the  young  husband  and  wife.  Letters  full  of 
tender  peace,  happiness,  and  love  stronger  than  passion.  And,  at 
last,  here  was  one  from  Texas.  One  paragraph  read : 

You  remember  that  the  year  before  we  were  married,  some 
years  after  my  campaign  in  Mexico,  my  dear  mother  fancied 
I  had  lung  trouble,  and  sent  me  to  this  State  to  spend  the 
winter?  To  amuse  myself  in  my  idleness  I  bought  a  large 
tract  of  land,  intending  to  raise  cattle.  I  begin  to  believe  that 
the  idea  was  a  good  one.  What  would  you  think  of  our  making 
our  home  here  permanently? 

But  evidently  the  young  wife  had  objected  to  leaving  her  old 
home  and  kinsfolk,  and  so  her  husband  had  returned  to  her  side, 
for  there  was  a  long  interlude  between  the  letters.  The  next  was 
a  short  jubilant  note  announcing  his  election  to  the  United  States 
Senate.  Then  followed  many  more  from  Washington,  vivid  pic- 
tures of  the  great  men  of  "the  day;  long  interviews  that  he  had 
had  with  Clay  and  Webster;  detailed  explanations  of  the  burning 
political  questions  that  were  hastening  on  the  war,  but  though  these 
letters  were  full  of  enthusiasm  and  buoyant  with  the  hope  of  a 
young  man  just  beginning  to  realize  his  own  power,  there  was  in 
them  a  deep  love  and  sympathy,  a  rare  understanding  for  the  suf- 
fering little  wife  at  home,  who  was  soon  again  to  become  a  mother. 

I  would  not  ask  you  to  endure  the  hardship  of  the  journey,  but 
I  pray  that  these  few  months  will  quickly  pass.  The  separation 
is  intolerable,  and  no  material  advancement  counts  when 
weighed  in  the  balance  with  your  happiness. 

Washington  is  not  a  pleasant  place  to  live ;  the  boarding  houses 
are  so  inferior  that  many  of  the  members  reside  in  Baltimore, 
traveling  forty  miles  by  train  every  morning.  The  streets  are 
muddy;  I  think  the  river  flats  make  the  place  unhealthful — 
the  city  is  only  four  feet  above  tide  water.  The  northwest 
part  of  the  town  is  much  more  desirable,  but  it  is  difficult  of 
access;  a  small  creek  divides  the  city  from  the  best  residential 
section,  known  as  Georgetown. 

The  next  letter  was  dated  some  years  later : 

I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  enjoying  your  visit  home.  You  are 
correct  in  your  surmising  that  my  reelection  is  not  assured,  but 
do  not  worry  about  our  future.  I  feel  sure  that  a  fortune 


462  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

awaits  us  on  our  ranch  in  Texas.  It  is  a  great  cattle  country, 
a  great  cotton  growing  State,  its  possibilities  are  endless.  If, 
in  the  after  years,  I  should  die  before  you,  don't  be  persuaded 
to  part  with  those  lands.  We  will  hold  them  for  our  children. 

It  was  this  letter  that  decided  Richard.     He  sat  down  that 
night  and  wrote  to  Jefferson  Wilcox : 

Come  down.  Believe  I  have  a  case  for  you,  if  you  will  take 
it  on  a  contingent  fee.  All  up  in  the  air  myself,  but  you  may 
see  daylight.  No  danger  of  starvation  now,  if  you  are  willing 
to  stick  to  farm  products.  Every  known  and  unknown  bug 
and  beetle  have  tried  to  devour  the  vegetables,  but  there  are  a 
few  onions  left  in  the  patch. 


Jefferson  replied  by   telegram:    "Delighted.     Will   start   at 


once." 


CHAPTER  X. 

Jefferson  Wilcox  arrived  two  days  later  without  benefit  to  the 
railroad;  he  came  in  his  big  touring  car.  Goggled,  mud-besmat- 
tered,  enveloped  in  a  grease-streaked  linen  duster,  he  was  not  pre- 
possessing as  he  drove  up  to  the  Matterson  door  to  greet  the 
punctilious  Colonel  who  awaited  him  on  the  porch. 

The  Colonel  limped  forward  doubtfully,  he  was  uncertain  of  his 
son's  selection  of  friends,  and  he  certainly  was  not  accustomed  to 
these  modern,  disreputable  outer  garments  that  concealed  every  clue 
to  a  gentleman's  identity,  but  Jefferson,  like  one  long  practiced  in 
legerdemain,  jerked  off  his  coat,  cap,  goggles,  gloves  in  a  twinkling, 
and  stood  before  the  Colonel  immaculately  clad,  and,  holding  out 
his  hand  with  his  most  ingratiating  smile,  said : 

"  I'm  Jefferson  Wilcox ;  so  delighted  to  get  an  invitation  to 
Matterson  Hall  that  I  could  not  wait  until  train  time." 

The  Colonel  shook  his  hand  warmly.  "And  I  am  delighted  to 
meet  you."  He  was  effusive  in  his  hospitality,  partly  because  of  his 
inherited  instincts,  and  partly  because  his  mind  was  relieved  by 
Jefferson's  appearance.  When  Richard  had  first  announced  his 
intention  of  consulting  a  lawyer  friend  and  inviting  him  to  the 
house,  the  Colonel  had  made  no  outward  objection,  but  he  had 
expected  a  dull  visitor  whose  presence  would  give  him  no  pleasure, 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  463 

but  Jefferson,  over-bubbling  with  vitality  and  spirits,  had  a  genius 
for  adapting  himself  to  older  men.  Before  he  had  been  there  half 
an  hour  the  Colonel  had  admitted  him  to  intimacy,  and  when  Betty 
appeared  to  show  the  guest  to  the  room  she  had  prepared  for  him, 
the  Colonel  had  established  a  relationship  dating  back  to  the  original 
Wilcox,  who  had  married  a  Matterson  in  some  dim  English  cathe- 
dral three  hundred  years  before. 

Jefferson's  room  looked  very  restful  to  him  after  his  mad  drive 
through  the  summer  heat;  a  great  bowl  of  roses  stood  upon  the 
mantel,  and  the  carved  four-poster  was  fragrant  with  fresh  linen. 

Betty's  efforts  at  housekeeping  were  very  erratic.  Most  of  the 
time  a  soft  lint-like  dust  lay  on  the  waxed  floors  and  the  polished  fur- 
niture ;  the  rooms  were  almost  always  in  disorder,  then  would  come 
a  conscience-stricken  upheaval,  and  everything  was  washed  and 
scrubbed,  and  loose-lying  objects  stowed  away  and  their  where- 
abouts forgotten,  until  the  Colonel's  swearing  sent  Betty  scurrying 
to  find  them  again;  then,  for  a  week  or  more,  saddles  and  boots, 
hats  and  newspapers  lay  on  chairs,  tables,  anywhere  they  chanced 
to  fall,  until  another  spasm  for  cleanliness  seized  Betty,  and  order 
again  prevailed  for  a  day  or  two. 

The  announcement  of  an  expected  visitor  had  sent  Betty  and 
Aunt  Dinah  into  a  vortex  of  mops,  brooms,  and  dusting  rags,  and, 
though  the  house  was  an  uncomfortable  place  to  live  during  the 
process,  Richard  was  grateful  for  the  transformation.  So  many  of 
the  rooms  which  had  been  shut  up  all  winter  as  too  bleak  and  big  to 
heat,  were  now  opened  to  the  sunlight. 

The  long  parlor,  which  had  been  as  cold  and  dark  as  a  tomb 
ever  since  his  arrival,  assumed  an  air  of  elegance  and  hospitality 
as  soon  as  it  was  swept  and  dusted,  for,  like  most  women,  Betty 
with  all  her  carelessness  possessed  that  inexplicable  knack  for  home- 
making — that  fine  intangible  art  that  conjures  an  atmosphere  out 
of  unfeeling  furniture.  She  moved  through  the  room,  pulling  a 
chair  here,  pushing  a  table  there;  she  opened  the  yellow-keyed 
piano,  taking  the  trouble  to  put  the  music  of  an  old  song  she  could 
not  sing  upon  the  rack;  she  piled  pine  boughs  on  the  shining  brass 
andirons;  she  filled  the  vases  with  flowers;  she  left  a  book  of 
poetry  she  had  never  read  upon  the  window  sill;  a  photograph  of 
someone  she  did  not  know  leaning  against  the  shaded  lamp. 

Richard  was  amazed  at  the  possibilities  of  his  own  home. 
"  Why,  Betty,  I  believe  you  are  a  witch,"  he  said. 

"  I  hate  house-cleaning,"  announced  Betty,  viewing  her  small 


464  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

hands  shrivelled  now  with  soap  suds,  "  but  if  we  are  going  to  have 
company  to  stay  we  must  look  our  best.  Is  he  young?  " 

"  About  twenty-eight." 

"Is  he  good  looking?" 

"  Fairly  so." 

"Is  he  tall?" 

"  About  my  height." 

"  Does  he  know  how  to  dance  ?  " 

"  Seems  to  do  a  lot  of  it." 

"Does  he  like  it?" 

"  I  suppose  he  does." 

"  How  long  will  he  stay  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

When  Betty  heard  that  the  gentleman  in  question  had  arrived 
in  a  big  touring  car  to  pay  them  an  indefinite  visit,  she  fairly  danced 
with  delight,  and  even  old  Aunt  Dinah's  proverbial  patience  was 
taxed  by  the  conflicting  orders  that  her  young  mistress  fired  at  her 
red-kerchiefed  head. 

"  We'll  have  fried  chicken — no,  we  won't — we'll  have  it 
creamed — put  in  a  little  sherry,  or  would  it  be  nicer  curried?  I 
don't  know — biscuits  or  waffles  for  lunch.  Dear  me!  the  flour 
bin  is  nearly  empty.  Haven't  we  any  honey  left  from  last  year? 
Parsley  around  the  chicken,  Aunt  Dinah.  Asparagus,  no  it  isn't 
fit  to  pick.  Wax  beans — do  you  suppose  we  can  get  enough  wax 
beans?  Oh,  I  suppose  he  is  used  to  everything.  That's  his  auto- 
mobile. Oh,  I  hope  he  will  stay  a  month  or  more." 

Aunt  Dinah's  mind  moved  slowly,  keeping  time  to  her  billowy 
body  that  lumbered  heavily  about  her  work. 

"  Fo  de  Lord's  sake  run  long  chile,  you  git  me  so  flustered. 
I'll  git  up  dis  mess  of  victuals — you  go  long  inter  de  house." 

So  Betty  had  wisely  abandoned  her  position  of  commanding 
officer,  but  she  was  very  restless  until  lunch  time.  Jefferson  was 
still  in  his  room;  Richard  had  not  returned  from  the  village  store; 
the  Colonel  was  dozing  in  his  chair;  she  had  only  the  dogs  for 
company.  She  was  working  off  some  of  her  surplus  energy  play- 
ing with  the  puppies,  when  Richard  came  wearily  up  the  gravelled 
road.  He  quickened  his  pace  when  he  saw  the  gray  touring  car. 

"  Has  Jefferson  come  ?  "  he  asked. 

Jefferson  heard  through  the  open  window  and  came  hurrying 
down  the  stairs.  "  Dicky,  Dicky,  Dick !  I'm  tickled  to  death  to 
be  here." 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  465 

Richard  held  out  both  hands  to  him.  "  And  I'm  so  glad  to 
have  you.  I  believe  I  feel  quite  rejuvenated." 

There  were  few  reserves  about  Jefferson  Wilcox.  He  was 
pleased  with  his  welcome,  pleased  with  his  first  glimpse  of  this  old 
home,  pleased  that  his  friend's  lot  had  not  been  cast  in  the  poverty 
and  squalor  that  he  had  feared,  and  he  expressed  his  delight  quite 
openly. 

The  luncheon  was  delicious  in  every  detail.  As  Jefferson 
helped  himself  to  a  sixth  waffle  and  spread  it  with  honey,  he  declared 
that  he  would  like  to  remain  as  a  permanent  guest.  It  was  not 
until  he  had  been  there  two  days  that  he  fully  realized  the  struggle 
Richard  was  making.  The  first  day  he  had  spent  joyfully  touring 
the  country  with  the  Colonel  and  Betty.  The  Colonel  was  a  real 
celebrity,  for  his  remote  ancestor  who,  it  was  whispered,  had 
streaks  of  royal  blood  in  him,  had  also  possessed  a  royal  grant 
of  land  that  included  several  counties  in  colonial  days.  This  was 
sufficient  distinction  in  a  community  that  believed  that  it  takes 
"  three  generations  to  make  a  gentleman,"  but  the  Colonel  also  had 
a  war  record,  and,  like  many  another  valiant  soldier,  he  had  repeated 
his  experiences  so  often  that  they  seemed  present-day  occurrences 
instead  of  shredded  reminiscences.  Then  the  Colonel  was  an 
orator  of  the  old-fashioned,  grandiloquent  type,  and  he  had  been 
a  conspicuous  figure  at  every  political  and  patriotic  celebration  for 
the  last  forty  years.  Jefferson  appreciated,  before  he  had  been 
out  fifteen  minutes,  that  he  was  traveling  with  a  distinguished  per- 
sonage. The  seams  of  the  Colonel's  coat  might  shine  in  the  sun- 
light, the  Colonel's  farm  might  be  the  attenuated  remnants  of  a  vast 
estate,  and  the  Colonel's  daughter  might  be  ashamed  of  her  own 
shabbiness,  but  the  journey  in  the  big  automobile  proved  the  Col- 
onel's importance  and  popularity  in  his  particular  corner  of  his 
State. 

The  next  day,  much  to  Betty's  disappointment,  their  guest 
stowed  away  his  automobile  in  the  old  carriage  house  and  spent  the 
day  with  Richard,  lending  him  a  willing  hand  in  all  his  labors, 
seeing  with  his  keen  eyes,  feeling  with  his  own  tired  muscles  the 
work  that  Richard  repeated  dully,  day  after  day.  With  his  cul- 
tivated business  sense  he  perceived,  even  more  than  Richard  him- 
self, the  many  difficulties  that  would  vanish  with  the  intelligent 
investment  of  a  little  ready  money;  the  fact  that  he  had  been 
admitted  to  the  house  on  trustful  terms  of  intimacy,  seemed  to  make 
the  suggestion  of  material  assistance  impossible.  He  felt  that  the 

VOL.   XCVII. — 30 


466  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

Colonel  would  consider  it  an  insult;  Richard  had  already  positively 
refused  his  help.  Winning  the  ancient  law  case  seemed  the  only 
hope  of  releasing  his  friend  from  this  wearing  routine  of 
drudgery. 

That  night  he  listened  eagerly  to  the  Colonel's  visionary  ac- 
count of  the  Fielding  forgery,  secretly  enjoying  the  old  gentleman's 
forceful  language  and  his  absurd  aristocratic  views,  and  after  the 
Colonel  had  hobbled  off  to  bed,  he  and  Richard  spent  the  rest  of 
the  night — all  night — poring  over  the  old  box  of  letters,  trying  to 
find  out  something  more  definite  than  the  mere  announcement :  "  We 
will  hold  them  for  our  children." 

There  was  a  faint  streak  of  pink  in  the  eastern  sky  when  Jef- 
ferson stretched  himself  and  said  with  a  yawn: 

"  This  is  no  way  for  a  second-class  lawyer  to  preserve  his 
brains;  I'm  going  to  bed." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance  for  us  ?  "  asked  Richard ;  his 
face  looked  pinched  and  wan  in  the  glare  of  the  sputtering  lamp. 

"  Immense !  "  said  Jefferson  optimistically.  "  Immense !  I 
believe  you've  got  a  mercenary  streak  in  you  after  all." 

Richard  deliberated  for  a  moment :  "  I  believe — I'm  afraid 
I  have." 

"Why  afraid?" 

"  Chasing  money  was  the  last  of  my  intentions,  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly not  an  idealistic  pursuit.  Fighting  your  neighbors  is  not 
altruism." 

"  Do  you  know  these  Fieldings  ?  " 

"  Well,  no — yes — that  is  I  have  met  one  of  them,  Miss  Field- 
ing." 

Jefferson  pricked  up  his  ears  suspiciously.  "  What  kind  is 
she?" 

"  Well,  you  know  I'm  no  authority  on  girls,  but  I  believe  she's 
rather  different  from  most  of  them,  or  at  least  she  seemed  so." 

"Hm!"  grunted  Jefferson,  "seemed  so?" 

Richard  was  a  trifle  confused.  "  Well  I  met  her  at  a  mas- 
querade. Never  went  to  one  before.  Felt  like  I  was  living  in  a 
fairy  tale.  She  was  dressed  as  Fire — most  amazing  costume.  And 
the  first  time  I  saw  her,  she  suggested  that  the  coal  mines  of  her 
father's  might  belong  to  me.  I  had  been  telling  her  that  she  was 
responsible  for  the  living  conditions  at  the  mines :  unsanitary 
houses,  long  hours,  poor  pay." 
%  Over  Jefferson's  mobile  face  there  passed  an  expression  of 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  467 

relief.  He  grinned  broadly.  "  Strange  tete-a-tete  for  a  party," 
he  observed.  "  Couldn't  you  think  of  anything  else  to  talk  about?  " 

"  She's  a  strange  girl,"  said  Richard  reflectively. 

Again  Jefferson  viewed  his  friend  curiously.  "  Believe  me, 
all  girls  are  strange,"  he  said. 

"Why?" 

"  Don't  ask  me.  Can't  understand  them ;  everyone  is  different. 
Now  men  seem  to  belong  to  types;  like  newspapers  with  patent 
insides — not  very  interesting.  Read  it  all  before,  but  girls,  don't 
know  them — can't  guess  them.  If  this  Miss  Fielding  thinks  the 
mines  are  yours,  why  don't  she  give  them  to  you?  " 

"  They  don't  belong  to  her." 

"  Then  who  owns  them?  " 

"  She  has  a  father." 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  had  quite  forgotten  the  father,  and  where  is  he  ?  " 

"  In  Texas,  the  last  I  heard  of  him." 

"  Then  I'm  going  to  Texas.  Much  more  sensible  than  trying 
to  fight  it  out  in  the  courts  here." 

"  But,  Jeff,  I  can't  pay  you  for  this." 

"  Pay !"  shouted  Jeff,  "  why  it's  the  biggest  case  I  ever  had. 
It's  coal  mines,  railroads,  oil  wells.  Why  it's  millions,  Dick.  I 
begin  to  feel  like  a  bloated  corporation  lawyer  already,  and  I'll 
charge  you — I'll  charge  you  a  fee  that  will  make  you  believe  that 
my  time  is  worth  money." 

Richard  looked  relieved.  "  Then  if  you  have  made  up  your 
mind  to  go,  I  think  you  ought  to  take  some  of  these  letters  with 
you;"  he  sorted  them  out  with  nervous  fingers.  "This  one,  for 
instance,  if  the  deed  is  dated  prior  to  this,  it  ought  to  prove  some- 
thing. My  grandfather  certainly  would  not  have  announced  his 
intention  of  keeping  the  land  for  the  children  if  he  had  sold  it, 
and  if  we  are  going  to  try  and  prove  that  the  title  was  forged,  you 
will  want  some  signatures  for  comparison." 

"  It's  the  most  important  case  I  ever  had,"  said  Jefferson 
jubilantly.  "  I'll  go  loaded  with  these  old  love  letters.  I  tell  you, 
Dick,  they  are  hot  stuff.  Bet  your  life  your  grandfather  wouldn't 
have  wasted  moonlight  talking  wages  and  labor  conditions  to  a 
fiery  phantom  of  a  girl." 

Richard  smiled.  "  I  guess  not,"  he  agreed,  "  but  then  he 
belonged  to  another  generation." 

"  Generation  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Men  have  been 
making  fools  of  themselves  ever  since  the  beginning — moonlight, 


468  THE  RED  ASCENT  [July, 

mists,  music,  masquerade,  and  you're  in  love  before  you  know  it." 

"  Don't  you  usually  know  it?  " 

"  Happens  to  me  like  a  boomerang,"  answered  Jeff  cheerfully. 
"  I  never  doubt  myself  until  next  day ;  that's  where  I  slip  up. 
Doubting  is  fatal.  Show  a  girl  you're  doubtful  of  your  own  heart- 
throbs, and  she's  down  the  pike  before  you  know  it." 

"  But  when  it  comes  to  the  real  thing,  Jeff,  love  like  my  grand- 
father's; love  that  in  the  after  years  brings  out  all  the  best  in  a 
man;  that  holds  him  to  his  ideals;  makes  him  willing  to  suffer, 
to  sacrifice,  to  live  for  someone  else,  there  is  something  sacramental 
in  a  love  like  that." 

"  Never  felt  it,"  said  Jefferson  with  conviction.     "  Did  you?  " 

Richard  hesitated  for  a  fraction  of  a  moment :  "  No,  but  I  be- 
lieve I  have  felt  it  for  the  world  at  large.  There  is  something  so 
appealing,  so  pitiful,  so  ignorant  in  God's  poor  that  I  wanted  to 
spend  my  life  on  them,  plan  for  them,  fight  for  them.  I  fancied 
I  could  do  a  great  deal  if  I  had  had  a  chance  to  follow  out  some 
of  my  theories.  Perhaps,  after  all,  there  has  been  something  wrong 
in  my  makeup,  for  it  wasn't  so  much  the  individual  that  appealed 
to  me  as  the  overpowering  sense  of  obligation  I  have  felt  for  the 
masses  of  men.  I  wanted  to  bring  about  the  millenium,  and — I've 
fallen  down  flat — I  tell  you  I  have  fallen  flat." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Well,  grovelling  for  bodily  necessities  takes  all  the  vigor  out 
of  a  man.  He's  too  tired  to  think,  to  pray,  to  realize  he's  got  a 
soul  worth  saving." 

"  But  when  you  get  your  millions,"  said  Jeff  hopefully. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Richard  wearily.  "  I'm  not  so 
sure  of  myself.  Just  now  leisure  seems  the  most  desirable  thing 
in  life  to  me,  and  the  priesthood  a  million  miles  away." 

"  But  if  you  had  the  leisure,  Dick?  " 

Richard  gave  a  mirthless  little  laugh :  "  I'd  go  to  bed  for  six 
months,"  he  said,  "  and  take  massage  instead  of  exercise." 

[TO  BE  CONTINUED.] 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  JUDAS  TREE. 

("  Who  wander  through  the  world  seeking  the  ruin  of  souls/') 

BY   EMILY   HICKEY. 

THE  blossom  is  on  the  Judas  Tree, 

Rosed-white  bells  all  fair  to  see, 

What  are  they  chiming  mystically, 

Those  little  bells  so  sweet  and  free? 

What  are  they  tolling  heavily, 

In  a  grim  and  drear  monotony? 

How  is  it  now  with  thee  and  thee, 

Woman  and  man  by  the  Judas  Tree? 

Woman  and  man,  be  swift  to  flee 

From  the  rosed-white  bloom  of  the  Judas  Tree. 

(But  they  pluck  the  flowers  of  the  Judas  Tree.) 

The  leafage  is  on  the  Judas  Tree, 

Clasping  the  blossom  verdantly. 

Man  and  woman,  thee  and  thee, 

Not  I  but  the  truth  of  God  in  me, 

Lift  a  voice  to  bid  you  flee 

From  the  blossom  and  leaf  of  the  Judas  Tree. 

(But  they  gather  the  leaves  of  the  Judas  Tree.) 

The  fruitage  is  on  the  Judas  Tree, 
Purple  glooming  in  deadly  blee. 
Oh,  if  ye  pluck  that  ill  berry, 
Pluck  the  fruit  of  the  Judas  Tree, 
Never  again  for  thee  and  thee, 
Woman  and  man,  shall  joyaunce  be. 
(But  they  eat  the  fruit  of  the  Judas  Tree.) 

Sun,  rain,  and  dews,  'twas  never  ye 
That  nurtured  the  deadly  Judas  Tree. 
Never  these  gracious  things  to  see, 
Never  the  fair  earth's  sweetness  free 
Nurtured  the  deadly  Judas  Tree. 


470  THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  JUDAS  TREE  [July, 

Oh,  the  life  of  the  Judas  Tree 

An  ill  spirit  fed  mortally. 

(He  once  was  incarnate  treachery.) 

He  burrowed  beneath  the  Judas  Tree, 

And  rose  with  the  sap  of  the  Judas  Tree, 

Each  bough  and  twiglet  entered  he, 

And  laughed  a-low  in  his  deathly  glee. 

Was  this  the  curse  of  the  Judas  Tree? 

God  He  knoweth  how  this  may  be ; 

God  He  knoweth  for  thee  and  thee 

If  your  two  souls  walked  the  way  that  he 

Showed  the  world  in  Gethsemani, 

With  the  greeting  and  kiss  of  treachery. 

Ye  two  knelt  on  bended  knee 

Where  the  Light  of  Light  shines  veiledly; 

Ye  two  vowed  sweet  vows  to  be 

Children  of  Light  for  eternity. 

Oh,  what  is  this  for  thee  and  thee? 

What  was  your  sin  by  the  Judas  Tree  ? 

Not  the  sin  of  the  leaping  free 

Of  hearts  high  beating  passionately ; 

Not  the  sin  of  the  pride  and  glee 

Of  the  giver-soul  that  comes  to  be 

Betrayed  by  its  generosity; 

But  the  deadly  thing  that  chillingly 

Pierced  to  the  marrow  of  thee  and  thee 

With  its  dart  of  utter  falsity. 

Oh,  poor  souls,  poor  souls  who  dree 

The  pains  than  which  none  heavier  be, 

Deaf  ears,  and  eyes  that  cannot  see. 

Out  of  God's  grace  ye  went,  to  be 
Guests  at  His  foes'  base  revelry; 
Clasping  the  low  things  sordidly, 
The  low  things  lighter  than  vanity. 


1913.]  THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  JUDAS  TREE  471 

Thirty  pieces  of  shining  blee? 

Nay,   not  a  silverling  to   see; 

Only  the  coinage  false  that  we 

Call  the  wages  that  devilry 

Giveth  its  servants  verily. 

(But  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,  said  He.) 

Was  it  the  curse  of  the  Judas  Tree? 
Was  it  thus,  poor  souls,  for  thee  and  thee, 
Were  ye  wrapt  in  the  strangling  folds  that  be 
Spun  and  woven  in  hell?     Were  ye 
Drawn  to  your  sin  by  the  curse  that  he 
Who  once  was  incarnate  treachery, 
Brought  from  hell  to  the  Judas  Tree? 

He  Whom  ye  sold  for  pelf  was  He 
Before  Whose  face  one  day  shall  flee 
Sin  and  death  for  eternity; 
He  Whom  ye  sold  your  Judge  shall  be. 
What  of  His  doom  for  thee  and  thee; 

Yea,  but  the  Judge  of  all  is  He 

Who  loved  you  both  on  His  gibbet  Tree. 

Haste  to  His  infinite  charity, 

Clasp  to  His  wounded  Feet,  and  flee 

From  Him  to  Him  for  your  lives,  that  He 

May  take  to  His  mercy  thee  and  thee. 

The  winter  shall  kill  the  Judas  Tree, 
When  Christ  on  those  looks  mercifully 
Who  have  known  the  bloom  of  the  Judas  Tree, 
Who  have  sinned  with  the  leaves  of  the  Judas  Tree, 
Who  were  drugged  with  the  juice  of  its  mirk  berry, 
Who  sinned  their  sin  with  the  Judas  Tree, 
God's  frost  shall  kill  the  Judas  Tree, 
The  frost  that  burns  eternally. 


GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL. 

LOUIS  VEUILLOT. 


BY  F.  DROUET,  C.M. 

O  many  an  educated  Catholic,  even  in  his  native  coun- 
try, Louis  Veuillot  is  now  hardly  more  than  a  name. 
And  yet,  the  son  of  the  poor  cooper  of  Boynes, 
the  man  whose  energetic  and  rugged  features  stand 
boldly  out,  carved  in  white  marble,  in  one  of  the  side 
chapels  of  the  Sacred  Heart  Basilica  at  Montmartre,  was  easily 
the  most  striking  Catholic  personality  of  nineteenth  century  France. 
And  if  we  may  trust  the  judgment  of  that  keenest  of  French  liter- 
ary critics,  Jules  Lemaitre,  he  was  also  one  of  the  five  or  six  really 
great  prose  writers  of  the  same  period,  one  to  be  raised  on  the 
same  lofty  pedestal  as  De  Maistre,  Montalembert,  and  Taine. 
Finally,  an  exceptionally  good  judge  of  things  Catholic,  the  lamented 
Olle-Laprune,  hails  Veuillot  as  the  most  thorough  representative 
of  the  Catholic  spirit,  equalled,  perhaps,  but  not  surpassed  by 
O'Connell  or  Windthorst,  nor  even  by  the  noblest  living  champion 
of  the  Church  in  France,  Count  Albert  de  Mun. 

With  this  particular  side  of  Veuillot's  character  we  are  here 
chiefly  concerned. 

To  Louis  Veuillot  was  denied  the  happiness  of  a  Christian 
childhood  and  of  an  early  Catholic  education.  This  son  of  rural 
France,  who  was  destined  by  Divine  Providence  to  fight  daily  for 
forty- five  years  the  battles  of  the  faith,  grew  up  in  an  atmosphere 
not  only  of  dire  poverty,  but  also  of  religious  indifference.  In  one 
of  his  first  and  most  charming  books  (Rome  et  Loreite),  he  de- 
scribes with  bitter  irony  the  divers  phases  of  his  early  education: 
"  I  was  thrown  into  the  infamous  'Mutual  School ;'  it  took  every 
month  two  full  days  of  the  'sacred  labors'  of  my  poor  father  to 
pay  for  the  lessons  of  corruption  I  received  from  my  classmates, 
and  from  a  teacher  who  was  drunk  half  the  time."  Yet  the 
school  was  styled  "  religious."  "  Even  catechism  was  taught !  " 
continues  Veuillot.  "  It  was  (oh !  the  horrible  recollection !),  it  was 
after  that  sort  of  instruction  that  I  made  my  first  Communion. 
It  was  a  crime :  let  the  responsibility  of  it  fall  upon  other  heads ! 


1913-]         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL        473 

it  was  not  altogether  mine.  Driven  to  the  holy  table  by  ignorant, 
if  not  decidedly  impious  hands,  I  approached  it  without  realizing 
in  what  great  banquet  I  was  taking  part.  I  left  it  with  all  my  stains 
upon  my  soul,  and  did  not  return.  Forgive  me,  my  God,  and  for- 
give them !  It  is  only  to  glorify  Your  mercy  that  I  publicly  confess 
a  crime  from  which  You  have  deigned  to  absolve  me." 

At  home,  in  the  meanwhile,  the  question  of  daily  sustenance 
was  becoming  a  most  distressing  problem.  The  family  resources 
were  exhausted,  and  Louis,  a  child  of  thirteen,  had  to  face  life 
and  fight  its  battles  alone.  "  Alone  in  the  world,"  he  writes, 
"  without  a  guiding  hand,  without  a  friend,  almost  without  a 
master,  at  thirteen  years  of  age,  and  without  God !  Oh !  the  bitter 
destiny!  I  found,  indeed,  some  good  people  around  me;  I  was 
even  shown  some  generosity.  But  no  one  thought  of  my  soul,  no 
one  made  me  drink  from  the  sacred  fountains  of  duty !  The  streets 
of  Paris  formed  the  education  of  my  mind,  and  some  young  men 
in  whose  company  I  had  to  live  formed  the  education  of  my  heart. 
When  in  my  misery,  in  my  isolation,  in  my  solitude,  I  needed  to 
learn  a  prayer,  it  was  blasphemy  that  was  taught  me!  It  was 
blasphemy  that  I  saw  everywhere,  that  I  heard  in  all  speeches, 
that  I  read  in  all  the  books,  blasphemy  that  I  was  called  upon 
to  admire  in  all  the  scenes  that  met  my  eyes !  "  And  yet,  even  in 
those  dark  days,  there  was  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  a  disgust  for 
the  low  pleasures  in  which  others  freely  revelled,  and  an  anxious 
craving  for  certitude  and  peace.  Soon  was  to  come  the  turning 
of  the  road;  a  few  years  more  and  he  would  be  walking  in  the 
full  and  glorious  light  of  faith. 

The  intelligent  and  devoted  instrument  of  Veuillot's  con- 
version was  a  young  man,  who  had  himself  tasted  the  emptiness  of 
liberal  teachings.  Gustave  Olivier,  a  former  companion  of  his  labors, 
had  recently  returned  to  the  practice  of  his  faith,  and  was  now 
(l837)  planning  a  trip  to  Italy,  Greece,  and  Constantinople.  He 
invited  Veuillot  to  accompany  him. 

"  Humanly  speaking,"  writes  Veuillot,  "  it  was  the  height  of 
folly  to  accept,  and  yet,  a  week  later,  I  was  speeding  along  the  road 
to  Marseilles.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  Constantinople:  I  was 
going  farther  than  that,  I  was  going  to  Rome,  I  was  going  to  my 
baptism ! " 

In  Rome,  an  excellent  Catholic,  Adolph  Feburier  welcomed 
the  pilgrims. 

After  a  month  of  prayers  and  instructions,  and  also  of  hesita- 


474         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL         [July, 

tions  and  waverings,  the  triumph  of  grace  was  complete  and  final. 
On  Good  Friday,  1838,  Veuillot  made  his  general  confession  to  the 
Jesuit  Father  Rosaven,  and  on  Easter  Sunday  he  received,  in  the 
CHurch  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Snows,  his  second  Communion,  which 
he  justly  termed  his  first.  He  was  now  twenty-five  years  of  age. 
From  that  day  to  his  last,  forty-five  years  later,  his  faith  knew 
no  cloud;  his  devotion  to  the  Catholic  cause  knew  no  waning,  and 
his  love  for  his  divine  Master  and  His  visible  representative  on 
earth  was  "  like  the  path  of  the  just,  a  shining  light  that  goeth 
forward  and  increaseth,  even  to  perfect  day." 

That  noble  soul  in  which  energy  had  always  been  the  dominant 
characteristic,  never  thought  of  hiding  for  a  moment  from  his 
former  friends  the  radical  change  which  had  just  given  a  new 
direction  to  his  life.  To  a  worldly  lady  who  openly  deplored  the 
fact  of  his  conversion,  he  sent  this  significant  and  fearless  pro- 
fession of  faith:  "Yes,  it  is  true!  I  am  a  convert!  That  is  to 
say,  from  the  indifferent  and  irreligious  person  that  I  was  I  have  be- 
come a  Christian,  fulfilling  all  the  obligations  imposed  upon  one  by 
Catholic  faith.  Yes,  madame,  I  say  my  morning  and  evening 
prayers,  I  even  pray  often  during  the  day;  yes,  madame,  I  go  to 
confession,  like  many  other  good  people.  I  usually  go  to  Com- 
munion on  Sunday,  in  company  with  the  doorkeepers  and  servant 
maids  of  my  parish,  a  company  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  is  by  no 
means  so  large  as  I  would  like  to  have  it;  an  excellent  company, 
for  all  that,  made  up,  in  about  equal  proportion,  of  men  and  women : 
those  I  consider  to  be  my  equal  before  God,  my  superiors  in  the 
world.  I  do  all  these  things,  and  your  information  is  correct.  But 
it  is  not  true  that  my  friends  should  grieve  over  it,  either  for  their 
sake,  for  they  don't  lose  my  friendship,  nor  for  mine,  for  I  did 
not  lose  my  happiness  thereby.  I  love  all  those  I  formerly  loved, 
and  I  love  them  much  more  and  in  a  far  better  way." 

With  enthusiasm  he  celebrates  and  praises  the  splendors  of 
that  "  Kindly  light "  which  has  shone  forth  in  his  darkness,  and 
led  him  safely  out  of  the  shadow  of  death :  "  Before  my  conversion, 
I  was  always  tortured  by  'perhaps/  But  now  there  is  no  dark- 
ness. God,  looking  down  on  me  with  merciful  eyes,  said:  'Be 

light  made  in  that  soul/     And  forthwith  light  was  made It 

seems  to  me  that  I  am  now  gliding  along  with  full  sails  upon  an 
ocean  of  light:  I  know  my  way,  I  know  what  I  shall  see  when 
I  reach  the  limits  of  my  horizon.  Men  are  truly  my  brethren; 
objects  appear  to  me  under  new  colors.  What  was  dead  is  now 


1913.]         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL        475 

full  of  life;  where  I  saw  formerly  nothing  but  the  caprice  of  a 
blind  power,  I  now  see  a  clear  witness  of  the  existence  and  power 
of  God.  The  most  puzzling  problems  that  used  to  baffle  my  ignor- 
ance are  now  vanishing  like  smoke ;  the  iron  doors  everywhere  shut 
against  me  are  opening  now  of  their  own  accord.  That  sea  upon 
which  I  gaze  used  to  offer  me  the  sterile  picture  of  my  everlasting 
unrest,  and  it  is  now  the  serene  image  of  my  deepest  peace " 

Upon  a  soul  so  disposed  the  marvels  of  Catholic  Rome  made, 
of  course,  an  enduring  impression.  Years  later,  when  his 
talent  reached  its  full  maturity,  Veuillot  gave  expression  to  his 
enthusiasm  in  the  two  compact  volumes  which  he  aptly  named : 
The  Fragrance  of  Rome.  It  was  the  full  growth  of  the  fervor 
he  felt  at  the  time  of  his  conversion  at  the  age  of  twenty-five. 
Having  discovered  the  splendors  of  the  faith,  he  cannot,  even  for 
an  hour,  keep  that  light  under  a  bushel,  nor  drink  alone  from  that 
fountain  of  joy.  He  must  tell  to  the  world  the  happiness  of  his 
soul,  he  must  let  his  heart  speak  aloud  of  what  that  heart  has  felt 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Eternal  City.  For  it  is  not  with  the  idle 
curiosity  of  the  tourist,  nor  with  the  business-like  method  of  the 
archaeologist,  it  is  with  the  faith  of  a  child,  the  fervor  of  a  convert, 
and  always,  of  course,  with  the  eyes  of  an  artist,  that  he  makes 
the  round  of  the  churches  in  Rome  and  of  the  sanctuaries  of  Swit- 
zerland. At  the  feet  of  the  Virgin  of  Einsiedeln,  he  pours  out  his 
feelings  in  this  prayer  for  his  two  sisters :  "  O  Virgin,  I  have  two 
sisters,  two  saintly  children,  two  white  doves  still  hidden  in  their 
mother's  nest;  they  sing  and  they  smile  in  their  blessed  ignorance, 
but  the  hour  is  coming  when  they  will  set  their  foot  on  the  thres- 
hold of  serious  life.  Virgin  most  prudent,  preserve  them  from 
the  bitter  wind  that  causes  young  flowers  to  wither  away;  preserve 
them  from  sterile  tears  and  from  the  grief  that  brings  shame  with  it; 
keep  them  humble  and  pure,  loyal  and  faithful  to  the  end  of  their 
life." 

To  his  younger  brother  Eugene,  come  back  to  the  fold  three 
years  after  him,  he  writes  this  significant  programme  of  life, 
from  which  he  himself  never  swerved :  "  Oh !  my  dear  child,  what 
a  sweet  happiness  for  you  and  me  to  be  working  together  for  the 
glory  of  that  holy  religion  which  has  been  to  us,  we  may  say  truly, 
the  bread  of  body  and  soul !  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  am  fully 
resolved  to  give  to  this  cause  my  whole  life,  the  best  fruits  of  my 
intelligence,  to  make  it  the  sole  aim  of  my  efforts  and  labors. 
I  know  I  will  have  no  position  in  the  world,  no  bank  account,. 


476         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL         [July, 

but  I  will  have  my  duty  done,  the  manna  of  heaven  for  every  day, 
the  water  of  the  torrent  to  drink  from,  and  a  few  years  less  to 
spend  here  below;  that  is  enough  to  satisfy  anyone.  Do  not  say 
I  am  speaking  like  a  madman ;  all  the  wisdom  of  the  world  cannot 
change  these  facts:  namely,  that  I  have  to  break  away  from  the 
world  and  fight  under  the  banner  of  God.  I  have  seen  many 
things  here  on  earth.  I  have  trod  on  the  carpets  of  those  who 
are  the  kings  of  the  hour,  and  I  have  read  their  care-worn 
souls;  I  have  spoken  with  the  sailor  on  the  sea,  with  the  farmer 
in  the  fields ;  I  have  seen  in  Rome  the  living  miracle  of  mankind ;  the 
mountains  of  Switzerland  have  made  me  wonder  at  the  splendors 
of  nature,  but  I  have  seen  nothing  so  beautiful,  so  miraculously 
admirable,  as  a  heart  burning  with  the  love  of  God !  " 

And  that  was  Veuillot's  heart.  During  his  half-century  of 
life  as  a  journalist,  in  the  heat  of  controversies,  in  the  haste  of 
daily  improvisation,  he,  no  doubt,  made  many  mistakes.  He  at 
times  overreached  the  mark  and  dealt  blows  to  his  adversaries, 
including  priests  and  bishops,  with  no  gentle  hand,  but  no  one 
ever  dared  to  question  his  motives :  "  To  the  faith  that  had  invaded 
and  conquered  his  soul,"  says  Father  Longhaye,  "  he  gave  unswerv- 
ing allegiance.  He  subordinated  to  it  his  whole  mind,  all  his 
knowledge,  present  and  future;  persons  and  things,  history  and 
politics,  science  and  literature;  he  judged  everything  in  that  light; 
he  brought  everything  to  that  central  point."  It  is  faith  consulted 
in  all  things,  ever  cloudless  and  always  uppermost,  that  makes  the 
admirable  and  almost  supernatural  unity  of  the  life  of  him  whom 
Jules  Lemaitre  terms  "  The  great  Catholic  layman  of  the  nine- 
teenth century." 

The  fifty-five  volumes  which  compose  Veuillot's  works  fully 
bear  out  this  somewhat  sweeping  statement.  The  eight  volumes 
of  his  correspondence,  for  instance,  besides  being  a  storehouse 
of  information  on  the  religious  history  of  France,  bear  witness 
to  the  fact  that,  from  the  day  of  his  conversion,  Veuillot  was  at 
all  times,  in  the  intimacy  of  his  private  life  or  in  the  heated 
debates  of  public  questions,  seeking  to  guide  himself  by  Catholic 
principles.  The  following  quotations  are  taken  exclusively  from 
that  correspondence. 

Love  for  the  ceremonies  of  the  Church,  and  ability  to  shape 
one's  spiritual  life  according  to  the  various  phases  of  the  liturgical 
year,  is  surely  an  infallible  sign  of  a  deep-seated  Catholic  sense. 
VeuiUot  possessed  that  love  in  the  highest  degree,  and  the  most 


1913-]         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL        477 

modest  service  in  a  country  chapel  was  enough  to  fill  his  soul  with 
religious  delight.  The  eternal  beauty  of  the  Psalms  appealed  par- 
ticularly to  his  heart:  "  I  followed  the  whole  office,"  he  says,  "in 
giving  an  account  of  'a  delightful  Christmas  night/  and  I  really 
don't  know  why  I  don't  spend  my  life  singing  Psalms,  for  I  cannot 
conceive  anything  more  beautiful.  There  one  would  learn  good 
politics,  good  literature,  true  love.  The  weather  was  worth  a 
poet's  description:  the  moon  veiled  with  a  light  mist,  not  to  hide 
itself,  for  sure,  but  to  give  a  chance  to  the  stars,  shining  like  smiling 
eyes,  all  the  trees  powdered  with  hoarfrost,  the  earth  merrily 
crackling  under  foot.  I  fancy  it  was  all  like  this  during  the  night 
of  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis.  Oh!  when  shall  I  see  another  Christmas 
night  like  that?  At  any  rate  I  thank  God  for  giving  me  that  one: 
*O  ye  cold  and  heat,  bless  the  Lord;  O  ye  dews  and  hoarfrosts, 
O  ye  ice  and  snow,  bless  the  Lord;  praise  and  exalt  Him  above 
all  forever!'" 

The  celebration  of  these  feasts  was  once  the  common  blessing 
of  all  the  people  of  France.  It  is  so  no  longer.  The  work  of  moral 
vandalism,  which  sought  to  uproot  the  faith,  and  deprive  the  poor 
of  their  greatest  consolation,  made  Veuillot  burn  with  indignation. 
Just  before  one  Christmas  day  he  wrote  to  his  daughters :  "  Do  you 
weep  when  singing  the  Roratef  Jerusalem  desolata  estl  Con- 
solamini,  cito  veniet  salus  tua!  I  feel  in  my  heart  an  inexpressible 
grief  and  sorrow  when  I  think  that  they  have  taken  away  those 
sublime  things  from  the  soul  of  the  people,  but  I  feel  an  equal 
joy  when  I  think  that  we,  at  least,  are  all  on  our  knees  at  the 
foot  of  the  Cross,  prostrate  before  that  insulted  glory  and  that 
despised  love.  Let  us  hold  on  firmly  and  bless  the  rabble  who  spit 
upon  us.  Their  insults  are  like  a  shining  snow  that  adorns  us  far 
better  than  the  winter  frost  adorns  the  leaves  of  the  holly.  Ah! 
this  is  true  silver,  silver  that  perishes  not!" 

During  a  stay  at  Plombieres,  he  witnesses  the  procession  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament,  and  receives  the  Benediction,  "  In  the  midst  of 
the  public  square,  in  the  good  dust  of  the  good  God." 

The  famous  Abbey  of  Solesmes,  with  its  imposing  buildings  in 
a  picturesque  region  justly  called  the  garden  of  France,  was  for 
Veuillot  a  favorite  resting  place.  The  monks  were  his  friends,  and 
he  was  nowhere  so  perfectly  at  home  as  when  among  them.  In 
that  Abbey  he  worked  and  prayed,  and  he  wrote  some  of  his 
most  charming  letters.  To  the  Viscountess  de  Pitray  (Olga  de 
Segur),  one  of  his  most  faithful  correspondents,  whose  "dear, 


478         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL         [July, 

bad  handwriting  he  was  always  longing  to  gaze  upon,"  he  wrote : 

"  I  have  adopted  the  regime  of  the  place  for  rising,  retiring,  and 
everything  else.  I  go  to  matins,  to  complin,  and  to  High  Mass. 
I  only  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  few  meditations  a  day  in  the 
garden,  which  is  cheerful  and  prosperous  looking,  with  a  vista 
of  several  miles  of  open  country,  a  river  in  the  distance,  and  an 
army  of  singing,  chirping  birds ;  there,  while  musing  on  my  stupid 
old  sins,  I  take  a  bite  at  white  and  black  currants,  rosy  straw- 
berries, and  all  kinds  of  red  fruits  recommended  by  Dr.  Purgon. 
"  Believe  me,  this  sort  of  life  would  suit  me  forever.  I  wish 
I  could  change  into  a  living  reality  the  good  joke  which  you  have 
just  played  at  my  expense,  you  who  are  such  a  dignified  mother. 
Your  recent  letter  was  addressed:  Dom  Louis  Veuillot,  Benedic- 
tine Monk!  The  Brother  who  handed  it  to  me  smiled  signifi- 
cantly as  if  to  say:  'For  a  serious  man  you  seem  to  have  rather 
light-headed  friends  in  the  world  yonder/  I  answered  the  smile 
and  said :  'It  is  from  a  lady !'  'Ah !  the  ladies,'  said  he,  and  with 
a  sweeping  gesture  of  his  hand  he  sent  you  down  and  down  to 
the  very  bottom  of  purgatory,  there  to  stay  until  doomsday.  Well, 
I  advise  you  not  to  worry  much  about  it;  to  be  valid  the  verdict 
ought  to  be  ratified  by  the  Father  Abbot,  and  even  then  you  might 
appeal  to  the  Pope.  And  now,  madame,  and  my  friend,  I  lay 
aside  my  frock  for  a  moment  in  order  to  kiss  your  hand.  Nothing 
could  be  more  contrary  to  monastic  rules,  but  you  are  well  worth  it. 
Deus  del  nobis  suatn  pacem!  «  BROTHER  Louis  " 

To  a  friend  who  seemed  to  grieve  over  his  daughter's  entering 
the  Good  Shepherd  Convent,  he  says :  "  My  dear  friend,  weep  as 
much  as  you  please,  I  congratulate  you.  Servant  of  the  poor,  that 
sounds  good,  but  servant  of  the  poor  sinful  women,  that  sounds 
better  still.  Just  think  of  it!  To  run  barefooted  through  thorns 
and  briars  to  find  the  lost  and  scabby  sheep !  I  have  five  daughters ; 
I  would  willingly  distribute  them  among  various  religious  families : 
one  Carmelite,  one  Little  Sister  of  the  Poor,  one  Ursuline,  etc.,  and 
if  they  all  wanted  to  become  Good  Shepherd  Sisters,  I  would  not 
say  'Oh!'  nor  'Alas!'  And  yet  God  knows  how  I  love  them. 
Our  children  do  not  belong  to  us  any  more  than  the  fruits  to  the 
tree.  When  they  are  ripe,  they  fall  off.  Happy  those  who  fall  into 
the  hands  of  God!  Happy  the  Virgins  who  follow  the  Lamb! 
Happy  the  father  whose  daughter  is  sheltered  in  the  shadow  of  the 
cloister ! " 


1913.]         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL        479 

To  a  soul  in  distress  he  writes :  "  All  that  God  wills  is  good. 
We  have  only  to  say  amen  to  it.  And  we  will  not  know  how  to  sing 
the  true  song  until  we  sing  it  to  that  tune !  Amen !  Amen !  Who 
could  believe  that  so  short  a  refrain  is  so  hard  to  learn  by  heart?  But 
we  shall  succeed  if  we  try  long  enough !  I  read  to-day  the  beautiful 
saying  of  a  saint,  dying  on  Easter  Sunday.  As  he  was  asked: 
'How  are  you?'  he  answered:  'Crucifixus.  Alleluia!'  I  leave  you 
on  that  word;  there  is  food  in  it  for  more  than  one  meditation." 

The  following  fragment  is  from  a  letter  to  a  young  seminarian, 
and  seems  a  leaf  from  the  correspondence  of  a  saint :  "  Pray,  then, 
O  you  guardians  of  the  sanctuary.  I  shall  pray  for  you  that 
God  may  preserve  and  make  fruitful  in  your  soul  the  vocation  to 
be  an  apostle.  Oh!  how  that  vocation,  beautiful  at  all  times, 
appears  more  beautiful  still  in  a  time  like  ours!  It  is  the  great 
plough  passing  over  the  world,  digging  in  every  direction  deep 
furrows  for  the  seeds  of  eternity.  Prepare  your  arms  and  your 
hearts  for  the  coming  harvest.  You  will  bend  down  under  the 
weight  of  the  sheaves ;  or  perhaps  you  will  die  at  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  who  will  come  upon  you,  in  an  attempt  to  destroy  the  divine 
harvest." 

To  a  lady  of  high  rank  who  had  just  secured  permission  to  have 
Mass  offered  in  her  home,  he  wrote :  "  You  have  a  private  oratory 
and  I  congratulate  you.  We  must,  when  possible,  have  in  our 
homes  a  reserved  room  for  God.  He  is  such  an  accommodating 
Guest,  and  He  asks  for  so  little-!  And,  moreover,  He  repays  us 
so  liberally  for  whatever  He  asks.  Every  evening,  when  reciting 
the  Litanies  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  I  say  three  times  for  you : 
'Cause  of  our  joy,  pray  for  us,'  that  you  may  desire  and  seek 
and  taste  and  love  only  the  pure  and  holy  joys  with  which  Mary's 
kindness  shall  inspire  you." 

The  most  intimate  of  his  letters,  to  his  family  and  to  a  few 
bosom  friends,  the  letters  that  were  not  destined,  at  least  during  his 
lifetime,  to  go  beyond  the  family  circle,  are,  perhaps,  from  our  point 
of  view,  the  most  admirable.  Some  few  extracts  have  been  already 
given  in  the  preceding  pages,  enough,  I  hope,  to  whet  my  readers' 
appetite,  and  make  them  hungry  for  more.  Therein  the  loving 
husband,  tender  father,  and  incomparable  friend,  shows  himself 
exactly  as  he  was,  not  clad  in  the  steel  armor  of  daily  polemics, 
but  at  home,  among  his  own,  in  the  gentle  surroundings  of  every- 
day life.  When  these  letters  were  published  for  the  first  time, 
they  were  to  many  a  revelation  and  a  distinct  surprise.  Was  it 


480         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL         [July, 

really  possible?  The  dreaded  fighter,  the  Catholic  Bluebeard,  the 
bulldog  of  Christ  (as  he  was  amiably  termed  by  his  enemies), 
the  man  who  boasted  of  slaying  at  least  one  Philistine  every  morn- 
ing before  breakfast,  was  a  man,  after  all,  like  any  other  man, 
cheerful  and  tender,  with  a  big  heart  capable  of  the  warmest  affec- 
tions, of  the  most  durable  and  most  disinterested  friendships;  all 
the  time  and  everywhere  a  Christian,  forsooth,  but  one  who  could, 
without  ever  forgetting  he  was  the  soldier  of  Christ,  laugh  and  make 
merry,  indulge  in  jokes  and  puns,  enjoy  a  good  meal  and  describe 
it  with  gastronomic  enthusiasm. 

"  I  went  to  show  my  tobacco  box  to  the  Jesuits,"  he  writes 
to  his  wife  in  1850;  "they  asked  where  I  got  that  marvel,  and 
I  said  it  was  the  gift  of  a  kingly  hand.  'What  King?  Louis- 
Philip?  Henry  V.?  The  Pope?'  No,  Reverend  Fathers,  Ma- 
dame Veuillot !" 

To  a  most  intimate,  but  rather  timid  friend,  who  did  not  always 
relish  the  tone  of  Veuillot's  polemics,  he  said  in  a  teasing  mood: 
"  I  can  see  you,  in  the  solitude  of  your  distant  Burgundy,  reading 
the  Univers  with  the  terror  of  a  hen  which,  unknown  to  herself, 
has  been  hatching  ducks.  Where  are  they  going?  They  will  get 
drowned,  for  sure !  " 

"  Dear  brother,"  he  writes  to  Eugene,  "  the  present  letter  is 
to  inform  you  that  I  have  absolutely  nothing  to  say.  I  just  want 
to  kiss  you  and  to  spend  four  cents  (the  price  of  a  stamp)."  He 
writes  home  just  to  rest  himself  after  working  "  like  a  white  man," 
like  the  poor  laborer  who,  after  breaking  stones  in  the  hot  sun, 
stops  for  a  while  and  gets  a  drink  from  the  fountain  in  the  grass, 
under  the  shade  of  the  beautiful  trees." 

Sometimes  he  writes  to  wife  and  children  to  tell  them  he  will 
arrive  home  as  soon  as  the  letter  itself.  "  Papa  will  be  waiting 
for  you  with  arms  stretched  out,  on  the  stairs  landing.  Come 
quick  and  laugh  aloud.  Come  and  kiss  me!  come  and  laugh  on 
my  heart !  " 

The  conversion  of  Eugene  did  not  fail  to  tighten  the  bonds  of 
affection  between  the  two  brothers.  "  Let  us  pray  God  to  unite 
us  in  His  service  in  the  same  bivouac,  and  we  will  not  feel  the 
hardships  of  the  war.  We  need  two  pens,  but  one  inkstand  will 
do  for  the  two  of  us." 

During  a  journey  through  Savoy,  he  was  ten  days  without 
receiving  a  letter  from  his  wife,  "  his  sweet  Mathilda."  "  Dear 
Mathilda,  do  you  intend  to  write  to  me  but  once  a  week?  I  would 


1913-]         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL        481 

fain  write,  not  once,  but  several  times  a  day,  just  to  make  you 
feel  how  often  I  think  of  you.  You  would  surely  cry  if  you 
knew  my  bitter  disappointment  when  told  there  was  no  letter  for 
me  to-day.  I  visit  several  churches  every  day,  and  everywhere 
I  ask  for  some  special  favor  for  my  wife  and  child;  not  an  hour 
passes  that  I  do  not  give  you  before  God  some  new  proof  of  my 

love I  have  formed  beautiful  resolutions:    First.     To  love 

you  more  than  ever.  Second.  To  give  up  drinking  coffee.  Third. 
To  become  a  better  Christian  and  to  serve  God  more  ardently,  lest 
my  thirty-fourth  year  be  as  empty  as  the  others  before." 

After  the  birth  of  Mary,  his  eldest  daughter,  his  joy  knew  no 
bounds.  "  The  first  merit  of  this  dear  little  person  is  that  she 
had  the  good  idea  of  coming  into  this  world  on  a  Saturday,  during 

the  month  of  the  Blessed  Virgin We  took  her  to  the  church 

two  hours  later,  and  there  she  received  with  perfect  good  grace 
the  name  of  Mary,  and  accepted  the  salt  of  wisdom  without  making 

any  face Oh !  what  gratitude  I  feel  towards  our  Almighty 

and  tender  God,  Who  bestows  upon  the  feeble  hearts  of  men  such 
duties  and  such  joys !  Oh !  how  I  wish  I  were  a  saint  to  obtain 
from  God  that  this  child  be  a  saint !  " 

It  is  with  his  sister  Eliza,  the  faithful  companion  of  his  life- 
time, his  "  secretary  and  cashier,"  and  the  second  mother  of  his 
children  after  the  premature  death  of  his  wife,  that  he  indulges 
without  restraint  in  "  small  talk."  It  is  insignificant,  at  times, 
and  now  and  then  nonsensical,  but  charming  withal,  betraying,  as 
it  does,  the  most  attractive  side  of  a  man's  character.  To  her  he 
complains  about  "these  women  of  his  household  (Eliza  herself 
and  his  two  daughters),  these  three  women  who  know  Latin  and 
forget  to  put  a  razor  strop  in  his  trunk !  "  Oh !  his  trunk !  That 
was  his  nightmare,  his  "  bete  noire."  He  would  prefer,  so  he 
informs  us  in  the  same  letter,  to  kill  all  the  Philistines  in  creation, 
rather  than  to  have  to  build  up  that  shaky  pile  of  indispensable 
but  unruly  and  unmanageable  clothes  and  utensils.  "  I  really  think 
I  will  be  packing  trunks  in  purgatory:  Oh!  my!  what  a  hard 
penance  it  will  be !  " 

This  family  happiness,  to  which  some  of  the  foregoing  extracts 
bear  eloquent  witness,  was  destined  to  be  rudely  shaken.  For 
the  great  controversialist  not  only  knew  the  bitterness  of  the  daily 
conflict  with  political  adversaries  who  were  perhaps  the  friends  of 
yesterday,  but  was  also  visited  early  in  life  by  the  most  cruel 
sorrows  which  can  prey  upon  a  human  heart.  In  less  than  three 

VOL.  xcvu. — 31 


482         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL         [July, 

years  he  lost  his  wife  and  four  of  his  six  children,  three  of  whom 
were  snatched  away  by  death  within  the  space  of  six  weeks.  Under 
the  weight  of  such  a  grief,  the  souls  that  do  not  know  how  to  look 
up  to  heaven  through  their  tears  are  doomed  to  despondency  and 
despair.  For  Veuillot  these  trials,  crowding,  as  they  did,  one  upon 
the  other,  were  the  triumph  of  his  faith.  The  letters  he  wrote 
during  this  dark  period  of  his  life  have  perhaps  no  parallel  in  the 
annals  of  human  sorrow,  and  they  would  do  honor  to  the  pen, 
let  us  say  rather  to  the  heart,  of  a  St.  Augustine  or  of  a  St. 
Ambrose. 

"  God  be  blessed  for  all !  I  know  why  He  has  been  so  merciful 
to  my  little  Teresa  and  so  hard  towards  me.  I  needed  a  warning. 
I  have  received  it.  I  hope  I  will  profit  by  it.  My  heart  is  more 
deeply  wounded  now  than  it  was  when,  running  in  haste  to  the 
bedside  of  my  little  daughter,  I  found  her  dead  in  her  crib,  having 
lost  even  those  sweet  looks  which  I  knew  and  loved  so  well.  And 
yet,  I  would  not  want  to  be  freed  from  my  sorrow.  I  beg  God  to 
keep  it  alive  in  my  soul,  for  it  is  a  salutary  burden  and  a  purifying 
flame.  I  am  better  now  than  I  ever  was  in  time  of  joy;  joy  puts 
us  to  sleep  on  the  brink  of  the  abyss;  sorrow  obliges  us  to  think 
constantly  of  God.'* 

After  the  death  of  his  saintly  wife,  although  his  grief  was 
beyond  description,  his  first  act  was  to  adore  the  Hand  that  struck 
him,  and  his  first  words  were  words  of  resignation  and  Christian 
fortitude.  "  Let  the  Holy  Will  of  God  be  done  and  His  Holy 
Name  eternally  blessed.  A  saintly  life  has  been  crowned  by  a 
saintly  death.  As  to  me,  I  deserve  it  all,  and  this  terrible  blow 
is  also  a  grace.  Thanks  to  her  who  is  no  more,  I  am  not  consoled — 
I  do  not  want  to  be,  I  cannot  be  consoled — but  I  am  strengthened, 
and  my  heart  is  full  of  thanks  as  it  is  of  tears.  Pray  God  to  increase 
my  courage  and  to  leave  me  my  sorrow." 

His  first  daughter  Mary  died  far  away  from  home,  and  even 
the  supreme  consolation  of  seeing  her  on  her  deathbed  was  refused 
him. 

"  Our  little  Mary  was  snatched  away  by  a  contagious  disease 
in  a  few  hours,  I  should  rather  say  in  a  few  minutes.  For  a  long 
time  I  could  not  even  cry:  but  I  was  able  to  bow  down  at  once 
before  the  justice  of  God.  Yes,  I  do  say  justice,  and  this  is  the 
proper  name  for  it.  I  know  what  I  am  and  what  God  owes  me, 

and  His  mercy  is  infinite Our  joy  has  been  taken  away  from 

us;  nothing  is  left  us  of  this  child,  not  even  a  grave;  we  shall 


1913-]         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL        483 

not  even  have  the  consolation  of  kissing  the  ground  that  keeps 
our  treasure." 

Again:  "My  little  Gertrude  also  is  dead.  The  severity  of 
God  which  keeps  me  away  from  the  dying  bed  of  my  children,  did 
not  permit  me  to  arrive  in  time  to  see  her  pass  away.  Death  has 
extended  its  hand  over  those  dear  children,  and  God  gave  it  per- 
mission to  take  two  of  them.  Let  Him  have  pity  at  least  on 
my  poor  sister,  who  suffers  like  a  veritable  mother.  As  to  me, 
I  am  a  sinner ;  crushed  under  the  Hand  that  strikes  me ;  I  recognize 
it;  I  adore  it;  I  bless  it;  but  that  Hand  alone  can  give  me  the 
strength  I  need  in  order  not  to  sink  under  the  burden  of  sorrows. 

"  How  could  I  fail  to  bless  God  ?  How  could  I  fail  to  hope 
that  those  pure  victims  will  efficaciously  pray  for  me  to  the  spotless 
Victim?  And  yet,  I  weep;  but  my  tears  are  not  hiding  from  me 
the  clear  view  of  the  mercies  of  God.  I  love  Him  the  more;  I 
am  resolved  to  serve  the  truth  better  than  ever;  I  feel  I  am  raised 
above  myself.  Oh!  my  God,  let  me  enjoy  for  a  long  time  that 
bitter  but  purifying  balsam! 

"  When  I  learned  the  death  of  my  Mary,  after  a  minute  of  in- 
describable grief,  I  went  to  kneel  down  before  her  empty  bed. 
Alone  with  God  alone,  I  examined  my  whole  life  and  made  my 
general  confession.  On  leaving  that  spot  I  did  not  dare  to  weep, 
and  when  Gertrude  followed  I  was  never  tempted  to  cry  out: 
This  is  too  much!'  Pity  me,  indeed,  pray  for  me,  but,  if  you 
have  any  mercy  on  me,  do  not  praise  me !  There  are  souls  which 
God  deigns  to  adorn,  mine  is  one  of  those  which  He  deigns  to 
cleanse. 

"  No,  I  am  not  crushed.  I  am  only  on  my  knees.  God  knows 
what  He  is  doing:  He  is  just,  He  is  merciful.  I  have  only  to  bless 
Him.  The  future  before  me  is  a  gloomy  one,  but  I  know  I  am  only 
a  traveler,  and  the  harder  the  voyage,  the  sweeter  shall  be  the  repose. 
Pray  for  me,  not  that  my  sorrow  be  allayed,  but  that  I  should 
bear  it  like  a  Christian.  I  feel  that  the  ploughshare  which  is 
tearing  up  my  soul  prepares  the  ground  for  the  seeds  of  eternal 
life,  for  seeds  of  faith,  hope,  and  love." 

Are  we  to  conclude  that  this  Christian  fortitude  had  dried 
up  in  his  heart  all  the  sources  of  real  human  sorrow,  and  that  the 
undaunted  Catholic  athlete  could  look  with  an  impassible  face  on 
the  grave  of  his  wife  and  children?  Such  a  judgment  would  be 
grossly  unjust  to  him,  who  was  a  most  tender  husband  and  a 
most  loving  father.  Let  us  listen  to  this  last  fragment  of  a  letter 


484         GLIMPSES  OF  A  GREAT  CATHOLIC  SOUL         [July, 

still  wet  with  tears :  "  During  the  procession  (in  the  Mother  House 
of  the  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor)  I  suddenly  saw  Eliza  and  my  two 
daughters  leaning  against  the  wall  of  the  cemetery.  The  sight 
of  these  children  reminded  me  of  the  others :  Mary  who  had  spent 
some  days  in  this  house;  Teresa,  godchild  of  the  Little  Sisters; 
Magdalen  who  died  in  their  arms,  and  Gertrude  who  loved  them 
so  much.  My  heart,  as  though  overcome  by  a  sudden  storm,  burst 
out  in  spite  of  me,  all  the  tears  I  had  driven  back  for  two  months 
past  gushed  forth,  and  I  would  have  wished  to  have  rolled  myself 
on  the  ground  and  to  have  died  on  the  spot.  My  brother  who  was 
by  my  side  understood  the  storm  in  my  soul,  and  his  sighs  answered 
mine.  There  is  no  happiness  left  for  me  in  this  world!  Let  us 
pray  for  one  another !  May  God  preserve  you,  dear  wife,  and  may 
you  never  know  what  goes  on  in  the  heart  of  a  father,  when  he 
weeps  over  his  orphan  children !  " 

Such  was  the  man  whom  his  adversaries  were  wont  to  repre- 
sent as  a  heartless  controversialist,  as  one  who  never  dipped  his  pen 
in  the  milk  of  human  tenderness,  but  wrote  only  with  vinegar  and 
gall.  That  he  struck  hard  at  times;  that  his  pen  was  usually  a 
sword,  sharp  and  flashing,  wielded  by  the  vigorous  hand  of  an 
experienced  fighter;  that  he  loved,  as  he  puts  it  himself,  to  "  slash 
and  scar  the  insolent  face  of  heresy,"  no  one  even  slightly  ac- 
quainted with  his  polemical  works  would  care  or  dare  to  deny. 
But  to  make  him  a  sort  of  condottiere  of  the  pen,  to  bring  into  sharp 
relief  the  pugnacious  side  of  his  character  and  leave  all  others 
in  the  background,  is  a  proof  of  painful  ignorance  or  of  deliberate 
injustice.  Open  at  random  the  two  volumes  of  Letters  to  his  Sister, 
or  such  delightful  collection  of  vignettes  as  Historiettes  et  Fan- 
taisies,  Qa  et  La,  Corbin  et  d'Aubecourt,  and  after  smiling,  laughing, 
and  weeping  with  Veuillot  the  man,  the  brother,  the  essayist,  you 
will,  no  doubt,  ratify  the  verdict  of  a  critic,  who  thus  summed  up 
his  impressions  after  a  prolonged  contact  with  Veuillot's  works: 
"  I  have  been  listening  to  the  beatings  of  a  big  human  heart;  I  have 
been  breathing  the  perfume  of  a  great  Christian  soul." 


SIR   THOMAS   MORE   AND   HIS   TIME. 

BY   W.   E.    CAMPBELL. 
IX. 

ROM  1523  onwards  More  became  still  further  in- 
volved in  public  business,  not  only  of  a  political  but 
also  of  a  theological  nature.  On  the  death  of  Sir 
Richard  Wingfield  in  July,  1525,  he  was  made 
Chancellor  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster.  Though 
not  yet  promoted  to  his  highest  office,  he  seemed  to  feel  that 
the  sun  of  his  worldly  prosperity  had  passed  its  meridian,  and 
that  the  shadows  of  approaching  catastrophe  were  already  length- 
ening. He  clearly  understood  the  character  of  Henry  VIII.,  and 
foresaw  a  direct  conflict  of  principle  between  his  master  and  him- 
self. At  this  time  the  King  was  showing  him  unusual  signs  of 
favor,  but  More  was  not  to  be  deceived;  such  signs  were  rather 
for  warning  than  enjoyment. 

And  for  the  pleasure  he  took  in  his  company  would  his 
Grace  suddenly  sometimes  come  to  his  house  at  Chelsea  to  be 
merry  with  him,  whither,  on  a  time  unlooked-for,  he  came  to 
dinner,  and  after  dinner,  in  a  fair  garden  of  his,  walked  with 
him  by  the  space  of  an  hour,  holding  his  arm  about  his  neck. 
And  as  soon  as  his  Grace  was  gone  [continues  Roper],  I,  rejoic- 
ing thereat,  said  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  how  happy  he  was  whom 
the  King  had  so  familiarly  entertained,  as  I  never  had  seen 
him  do  to  any  before,  except  Cardinal  Wolsey,  whom  I  saw 
his  Grace  walk  once  with  arm  in  arm.  "  I  thank  our  Lord,  sir," 
quoth  More,  "  I  find  his  Grace  my  very  good  lord  indeed, 
and  I  believe  he  doth  as  singularly  favor  me  as  any  subject 
within  his  realm.  Howbeit,  son  Roper,  I  may  tell  thee  I  have 
no  cause  to  be  proud  thereof,  for  if  my  head  would  win  him 
a  castle  in  France it  should  not  fail  to  go." 

More's  promotion  and  the  King's  unusual  familiarity  were  not 
unconnected  with  his  Grace's  desire  to  enlist  More  in  the  cause  of  his 
divorce,  a  matter  at  this  time  entirely  occupying  the  royal  mind. 

At  this  period  of  his  life,  Sir  Thomas  More  appears,  according 
to  many  of  his  biographers,  to  change  his  character.  Up  to 


486  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [July, 

now  he  is  set  forth  as  the  apostle  of  the  New  Learning,  the  friend 
of  Erasmus,  the  despiser  of  ignorance,  and  the  hater  of  corrup- 
tion in  high  places ;  a  man  at  once  humane,  liberal-minded,  "  hon- 
orable, learned,  and  enlightened,  and  the  very  soul  of  equity." 
But  from  this  point  onwards  these  same  biographers  of  his  find 
a  sudden  change  for  the  worse.  He  becomes  blind,  perverse,  and 
bigoted;  an  intolerant  defender  of  decayed  ecclesiasticism ;  a  hater 
and  indeed  a  persecutor  of  all  who  differed  from  the  doctrines  of 
the  Catholic  Church.  But,  on  the  other  hand  again,  they  can  but 
admit  the  splendid  fearlessness  and  integrity  of  his  opposition 
to  royal  licentiousness,  and  his  heroic  martyrdom  in  defence  of 
the  old  spiritual  as  against  the  new  secular  supremacy.  Are  we 
then  to  admit  this  paradoxical  judgment  on  More  as  final  or  are 
we  to  question  it?  "How  two  such  absolutely  contrary  characters 
could  be  united  in  one  man  is  something  more  than  a  paradox," 
wrote  Dr.  Gairdner  in  1908,  "  it  is  a  moral  impossibility."* 

More's  period  was  one  of  religious  and  social  restlessness,  and 
the  causes  of  this  restlessness  were  historical,  moral,  and  intellectual. 
The  discovery  of  America,  the  fall  of  Constantinople,  the  invention 
of  printing,  the  newly-recovered  treasures  of  classical  literature  and 
art,  opened  up  with  tremendous  suddenness  undreamed  of  prospects 
of  business  enterprise,  of  travel,  of  intellectual  and  artistic  enjoy- 
ment. Such  blessings,  indeed,  came  upon  a  Europe  too  unprepared 
to  use  and  enjoy  them  as  they  should  have  been  used  and  enjoyed. 
A  double  re-action  was  set  up  in  a  society  unready  for  such  rich  and 
novel  experience,  and  people  went  to  opposite  extremes  in  their  ac- 
ceptance or  refusal  of  it.  I  think  it  may  be  claimed  for  Sir  Thomas 
More  that  he  of  all  his  contemporaries  took  up  a  central  and 
balanced  position,  both  with  regard  to  what  was  new  and  what 
was  old  in  the  world  of  his  day.  A  sweet  reasonableness,  and  a 
profoundly  spiritual  criterion  of  life,  gave  him  the  just  measure 
of  things  both  new  and  old.  What  was  good  for  the  soul  of  man 
was  good  for  the  society  of  men — for  him  a  spiritual  good  was 
always  of  social  value,  and  this,  I  think,  is  the  consistent  keynote 
of  all  his  thought  and  action.  It  gave  him  an  orderly  system  of 
ideals,  in  which  the  natural  and  supernatural  never  clashed,  because 
they  were  one  and  the  same. 

For  Sir  Thomas  More  life  and  religion  had  each  a  public  and 
visible  side,  a  side  that  was  orderly,  institutional,  and  impressive 

because  spectacular.     Church  and  State  were  fruitful  partners  in 

i 

*James  Gairdner,  Lollardy  and  the  Reformation  in  England,  vol.  i.,  p.  507. 


1913.]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  487 

the  social  scheme.  He  could  not  conceive  of  a  polity  in  which 
there  was  no  effective  and  obvious  spiritual  power,  softening  the 
inequalities  of  class,  ability,  and  circumstances,  promoting  a  gener- 
ous leaven  of  charity,  resting  upon  an  unquestioned  faith.  He  had 
taken  the  measure  of  man's  earthly  and  probationary  existence ;  he 
knew  that  it  was  not  an  end  in  itself,  but  a  means  to  an  end  which 
used,  while  it  transcended,  all  its  perishable  and  material  values. 
Apart  from  religious  faith,  what  steady  and  spiritual  criterion  of 
social  good  could  be  found  for  a  man  who  had  but  a  few  short 
years  to  live  in  so  small  a  compass;  mere  pleasure  was  self-de- 
structive, mere  toil  was  brutally  exhausting,  mere  reasoning  ended 
in  cynical  denial,  and  none  nor  all  of  these  things  together  could 
sufficiently  check  the  natural  selfishness  of  human  nature;  could 
guarantee  human  liberty  or  even  secure  a  minimum  of  social  order 
and  stability. 

More's  objection  to  heresy  and  his  eagerness  to  suppress  it  is 
justified  again  and  again  in  his  controversial  writings  by  its  dis- 
astrous effect  on  social  stability,  quite  apart  from  its  more  directly 
spiritual  effect.  More  did  not  confuse,  as  many  do  now,  public 
ideals  as  set  forth  by  the  Church  with  private  failures  to  realize 
these  ideals.  He  recognized  that  while  the  Church  provided  the 
former,  it  could  not  guarantee  the  latter.  The  Church  was  divinely 
appointed  to  set  forth  and  explain  the  ideal  of  perfected  human 
nature  which  had  been  lived  out  by  our  Lord  Himself,  and  she 
could  never  fail  in  her  commission;  she  was  also  appointed  to 
protect  and  provide  the  means  and  graces  which  were  necessary 
for  the  following  of  that  ideal;  but  more  than  that  she  was  not 
commissioned  to  do.  Whether  each  individual  soul,  endowed  as 
it  was  with  free  will,  corresponded  with  the  ideal  was,  in  the  truest 
sense,  its  own  affair.  So  More,  while  as  well  aware  of  the  human 
frailties  of  Catholic  churchmen  and  laymen  as  the  most  zealous 
of  the  Protestant  reformers,  clearly  distinguished  between  ideal 
and  practice,  his  faith  was  unaffected  by  scandal,  never  for  a  mo- 
ment did  he  doubt  the  Church's  ideal  or  refuse  her  sacramental  help ; 
and,  further,  he  was  reasonable  enough  to  believe  that  a  nation 
which  did  these  things  would  lose  alike  its  spiritual  life  and  its 
social  vision.* 

*That  venerable  and  eminent  scientist,  Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  has  just  pub- 
lished a  small  volume  on  the  social  condition  of  England.  He  gives  various 
statistics  as  to  over-crowding,  insanitation,  long  hours,  low  pay,  high  mortality, 
lack  of  food,  air,  play,  and  rest  among  the  poor;  he  points  out  that  legal  justice 
is  practically  denied  to  them ;  he  finds  that  adulteration,  bribery,  and  gambling 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [July, 

"  More  saw  what  was  at  stake,"  writes  Dr.  Gairdner,  "  and 
endeavored,  so  far  as  he  could,  to  save  even  the  King  from  the 
effects  of  his  own  recklessness.  But  his  chief  aim  was  to  save 
religion  itself  from  insult,  and  public  morals  and  social  order  from 
being  subverted  by  the  perversity  of  heretics."* 

With  this  hint  at  the  secret  of  More's  consistency,  we  may  now 
go  on  to  examine  the  evidences  of  his  actual  thought  and  conduct 
during  the  troubled  year  which  led  to  national  apostasy. 

In  1521  Henry  VIII.  published  his  book  against  Luther,  which 
was  called  Assertio  Sept  em  Sacrament  or  um.  More's  share  in  it 
was  merely  to  arrange  an  index.  Luther  replied,  but  with  such 
scurrility  as  to  prevent  the  King  from  taking  further  part  in  the 
controversy,  but  More  was  evidently  asked  to  do  so,  though  very 
much  against  his  will.  He  chose  the  pseudonym  of  William  Ross, 
and  adopted  a  temper  of  mind  and  a  form  of  expression  that  were 
something  of  a  match  for  Luther's  own.  This  was  unfortunate, 
as  he  himself  realized  when  he  complained  that  he  could  not  clean 
Luther's  mouth  without  befouling  his  own  fingers.  Fisher  had 
done  the  more  respectable  part  of  the  business  by  replying  as  a 
theologian  to  Luther's  contentions;  it  was  left  for  More  to  ad- 
minister personal  chastisement,  and  having  once  undertaken  the 
distasteful  task  he  did  it  thoroughly,  though  not  without  apology 
to  his  more  refined  readers.  He  considered  the  work  as  of  merely 
occasional  value,  and  probably  hoped  that  its  real  authorship  would 
be  left  in  mystery.  At  the  end  of  it  he  confesses  that  it  is 
the  kind  of  book  which  only  those  should  read  who  have  already 
been  influenced  by  Luther's  own.  He  apologizes  for  its  tone  quite 
frankly.  "I  doubt  not,  good  reader,  that  your  fairness  will  pardon 
me  that  in  this  book  you  read  so  often  what  causes  you  shame. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  painful  to  me  than  to  be  forced  to 

are  the  chief  characteristics  of  modern  business ;  that  luxury,  not  to  say  debauchery 
which  rivals  that  of  the  worst  pagan  times,  is  frightfully  prevalent  among  the 
rich,  while  moral  degradation,  as  shown  by  the  steady  increase  in  death  from 
alcoholism,  suicide,  and  premature  birth  is  invading  all  classes.  He  concludes 
that  Parliament,  which  should  give  active  and  practical  expression  to  the  social 
conscience,  is  responsible  for  these  things,  but,  alas,  it  does  anything  rather  than 
that,  "  anything  rather  than  the  immediate  saving  of  human  life  and  abolishing 
widespread  human  misery and  all  for  fear  of  offending  the  rich  and  power- 
ful by  some  diminution  of  their  ever-increasing  accumulations.  No  thinking  man 
or  woman  can  believe  that  this  state  of  things  is  absolutely  irremediable ;  and  the 
persistent  acquiescence  in  it,  while  loudly  boasting  of  our  science,  or  our  national 
prosperity,  and  of  our  Christianity,  is  the  proof  of  a  hypocritical  lack  of  national 
morality  that  has  never  been  surpassed  in  any  former  age."  More  judged  wisely  of 
the  future. 

*Op.  c\t.,  p.  510. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  489 

speak  foul  words  to  pure  ears.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it, 
unless  I  left  Luther's  scurrilous  book  utterly  untouched,  which  is 
a  thing  I  most  earnestly  desired."* 

But  there  are  passages  in  this  work  which  are  deeply  spiritual, 
and  indeed  prophetic  in  their  wisdom.  Luther's  teaching,  says 
More,  has  led  to  the  contempt  of  the  Mass;  to  the  neglect  of  the 
Liturgy;  to  the  abolition  of  prayers  to  the  saints  and  prayers 
for  the  dead;  and  what  are  the  early  fruits  of  such  impiety? 

These  wretches,  "  made  perfect  in  the  spirit,"  have  aban- 
doned the  festivals  of  the  Church  in  order  that  they  may  give 
themselves  every  day  to  bacchanalian  festivities.  Virginity  and 
married  life  are  equally  dishonored,  while  polygamy  and  even 
worse  things  are  tolerated  and  excused  by  the  impious  doctrine 
which  declares  that  wicked  men  are  what  they  are  by  the  pre- 
destined will  of  God.  O  illustrious  Germany,  can  you  doubt, 
when  they  sow  such  spiritual  things,  what  kind  of  corporal 
things  they  will  reap?  Indeed  the  thistles,  as  I  hear,  are 
already  showing  an  ugly  crop,  and  God  is  beginning  to  make 
known  how  He  regards  that  sect,  when  He  does  not  permit  the 
priests  who  marry  to  take  other  wives  than  public  prostitutes. 
And  these  bridegrooms,  first  sunk  in  infamy,  and  then  ruined 
with  disease  and  want,  and  giving  themselves  up  to  robbery, 
His  justice  is  at  last  punishing  with  public  executions.  Would 
that  His  anger  might  stop  short  in  the  punishment  of  these 
dregs  of  men;  but  unless  it  is  propitiated  it  will  go  farther. 
For  many  princes  see,  not  zvithout  pleasure,  the  apostasy  of  the 
clergy,  gaping  as  they  do  after  the  possessions  of  the  apostates, 
which  they  hope  to  seize  as  derelict.  And  they  rejoice  to  see 
obedience  withdrawn  -from  the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  conceiving 
then  the  hope  that  they  may  dispose  of  everything,  and  may 
divide  and  dissipate  it  among  themselves  at  home. 

How  very  accurately  More  foretells  the  direct  political  con- 
sequences of  the  Reformation — the  rise  of  a  purely  secular  power, 
aristocratic,  covetous,  oppressive,  and  brutal,  acknowledging  no 
spiritual  or  social  obligations,  without  justice,  mercy  or  fear.  He 
also  predicts  its  more  disastrous  and  revolutionary  effects  two 
years  before  the  outbreak  of  the  peasants'  war. 

But  they  (the  princes)  need  not  doubt,  but  that  the  people 
in  their  turn  will  throw  off  their  yoke  and  deprive  them  of  their 

*It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  make  further  reference  to  this  matter,  which  has 
been  dealt  with  very  fully  by  Father  Bridgett  in  his  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  More, 
pp.  209-222. 


490  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [July, 

possessions.  And  when  they  shall  come  to  do  this,  drunk 
with  the  blood  of  princes,  and  exulting  in  the  slaughter  of  the 
nobles,  they  will  not  submit  even  to  plebeian  governors;  but 
following  the  dogma  of  Luther  (about  Christian  liberty),  and 
trampling  the  law  underfoot,  then,  at  last  without  government 
and  without  law,  without  rein  and  without  understanding,  they 
will  turn  their  hands  against  each  other,  and  like  the  earth- 
born  brothers  of  old,  will  perish  in  mutual  conflict.  I  beg 
of  Christ  that  I  may  be  a  false  prophet.* 

This  answer  to  Luther  (1523),  and  the  Letter  against  Pom- 
eranus  (c.  1626),  were  written  before  the  Reformation  tenets  had 
made  much  headway  in  England ;  but  More  understanding  the  trend 
of  the  King's  thought  with  regard  to  divorce,  and  anxious  to  avoid 
entanglement  with  so  unsavory  and  dangerous  a  matter,  turned 
his  interests  and  occupation  as  far  as  possible  away  from  the  Court. 
From  this  time  until  his  death,  the  saving  of  his  country  from  the 
effects  of  the  Reformation  was  the  main  object  of  his  life  and  prayer. 
We  must  clearly  understand  that  More  was  zealous  to  defend  a  state 
of  society  altogether  different  from  our  own,  one  indeed  of  which 
we  have  far  too  dim  a  recollection.  In  the  England  of  1525 
"  Church  and  State "  were  as  certainly  united  and  as  certainly 
distinct  as  partners  in  marriage.  I  may  be  allowed  the  comparison, 
because  it  illustrates  the  real  relations  of  Church  and  State  in  pre- 
Reformation  times.  The  Church  was  one  institution  and  the  State 
was  another,  but  in  their  mutual  intercourse  and  relationship  they 
provided  alike  for  the  energy  and  stability  of  social  life.  What  was 
hurtful  to  the  one  was  hurtful  to  the  other,  and  vice  versa;  heretics 
assaulting  the  authority  of  the  Church  were  a  danger  to  the  State; 
rebellion  against  State  authority  brought  weakness  of  the  Church; 
but  of  the  two  heresy  was  the  more  fatal,  as  being  not  only  an 
attack  upon  authority,  but  an  attempt  to  dissolve  the  very  prin- 
ciple upon  which  all  authority  rests. 

When  More  became  Lord  Chancellor  it  was  his  business  as 
the  highest  officer  in  the  State  to  resist  heresy  and  punish  heretics, 
and  this,  clearly,  for  the  reasons  given  above.  We  who  have  been 
brought  up  in  a  Protestant  country  find  it  really  difficult  to  realize 
the  conditions  of  pre-Re formation  life,  for  the  strong  and  living 
bonds  which  publicly  united  the  religious  and  the  secular  powers 
have  been  broken.  Religion  has  long  since  ceased,  in  any  real  sense, 
to  be  an  affair  of  public  importance,  and  the  modern  State  can 

*Bridgett's    translation.     Op.    cit.,    pp.    217-219. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  491 

find  no  proper  place  for  it  either  as  superior  to  or  in  subjection 
to  itself.  In  1525  things  were  very  different. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  ask  what  amount  of  heresy  existed 
in  England  at  this  time.  The  answer  is  simple.  Until  Henry  VIII. 
himself  became  a  heretic,  heresy  in  England  was  a  very  small  affair. 
"Hitherto/'  writes  Lee  to  the  King  in  1525,  "blessed  by  God, 
your  realm  is  safe  from  the  infection  of  Luther's  sect,  as  for  so 
much  that  although,  peradventure,  any  be  secretly  blotted  within, 
yet  for  fear  of  your  royal  majesty,  which  hath  drawn  his  sword 
in  God's  cause,  they  dare  not  openly  avow." 

Of  course  there  had  always  been  disbelievers  of  this  or  that 
particular  doctrine  of  the  Church,  but  as  yet  there  had  been  no  pub- 
lic assault  upon  Church  authority,  no  question  as  to  the  universal 
jurisdiction  of  the  Holy  See.  As  Dr.  Gairdner,  the  latest,  the  best- 
informed,  and  the  most  impartial  student  of  this  period,  points  out, 
at  this  time  the  discussion  of  theological  matters 

by  mere  laymen  was  accounted  rash  and  presumptuous,  though 
there  was  nothing  to  prevent  reverent  inquiry  on  the  part  of  a 
layman  who  consulted  a  competent  spiritual  adviser.  The  es- 
sence of  heresy  was  not  erroneous  thinking — for  all  men  are 
liable  to  that — but  arrogance,  tending  to  contempt  of  the  de- 
cisions of  learned  Councils  and  the  most  approved  judgments 
of  ancient  Fathers.  The  Church  offered  no  obstacle  to  thought- 
ful inquiry  by  which  her  tenets  might  be  carefully  tested, 
explained,  or  developed;  but  she  did  not  love  rough  treatment 
of  things  sacred  by  men  ill-qualified  to  handle  them. 

It  is  this  state  of  matters  [he  continues]  which  we  find  now 
so  difficult  to  realize.  The  right  of  private  judgment  in  religious 
matters  is  recognized  and  claimed  by  everyone;  the  right  of 
pronouncing  very  rash  judgment  on  very  insufficient  grounds. 
Everyone  may  think  as  he  pleases,  and  the  uneducated  layman, 
who  may  give  one  hour  a  week  to  thoughts  about  theology 
against  forty  which  he  devotes  to  the  state  of  the  markets, 
has  but  little  misgivings  on  the  question  of  faith  and  works, 
or  even  perhaps  as  to  the  mystery  of  the  Real  Presence.  What- 
ever theology  may  say  upon  these  subjects,  he  believes  his 
own  view  to  be  pure  common  sense. 

People  of  More's  time  were  logical,  and  were  as  unwilling 
to  rely  on  an  ill-informed  private  judgment  in  matters  of  religion 
as  people  of  our  own  day  would  be  unwilling  to  rely  on  an  ill- 
informed  private  judgment  in  some  delicate  and  difficult  scientific 
matter.  If  people  were  as  intent  on  religious  as  on  scientific  prob- 


492  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [July, 

lems,  they  would  soon  awake  to  the  absurdity  of  "  private  judg- 
ment." 

An  examination  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  heretical  opin- 
ions held  previous  to  Henry  VIII. 's  apostasy,  will  show  how  much 
they  differed  from  what  followed  after  that  event.  What  was 
known  as  Lollardy  in  the  fifteenth  century  and  in  the  early  part 
of  the  sixteenth,  was  "  not  by  any  means  a  'higher  criticism' 
impugning  Biblical  and  Church  authority  by  the  use  of  reason,  but 
really  a  sort  of  Biblical  superstition  exalting  the  written  word 
over  human  reason  and  Church  authority  alike.  It  was  the  belief 
of  'known  men'  in  their  own  infallibility  as  interpreters  of  Holy 
Writ,  and  the  treatment  of  human  reason  as  the  enemy  of  faith 
that  made  zealots  think  themselves  superior  to  all  exterior  authority 
whatever."* 

As  to  the  prevalence  of  these  views,  in  London,  the  most  popu- 
lous diocese  in  the  country,  the  number  of  heretics  summoned  before 
the  Bishop  from  1510  to  1522  is  thirty-nine.  Of  these,  thirty- 
seven  abjured  their  heresies  and  returned  to  the  Church.  The  re- 
maining two  abjured  but  relapsed,  and  being  a  second  time  led 
to  trial  were  afterwards  burned,  but  not  until  they  had  made  their 
peace  with  the  Church.  From  1523  to  1527  there  were  four  more 
cases  of  heretics  who  returned  to  the  Faith,  thus  making  a  total 
of  forty-three  cases  against  heretics  in  seventeen  years,  two  of 
whom  suffered  extreme  penalties,  and  all  of  whom  returned  to  the 
Church.  Up  to  1527,  then,  no  impartial  examination  of  evidences 
will  lead  to  a  conclusion  that  there  was  a  strong  or  widespread  move- 
ment against  Church  authority. 

The  charges  brought  against  these  heretical  people  are  enu- 
merated by  Foxe,  the  Protestant  compiler  of  the  well-known  Book 
of  Martyrs.  He  omits,  however,  certain  "  horrible  and  blasphe- 
mous lies  against  the  majesty  and  truth  of  God,"  for  the  curious 
reason  that  those  charged  with  using  them  asserted  themselves  to 
be  guiltless  in  this  respect.  For  the  rest,  according  to  him,  they 
are  accused  of  refusing  reverence  to  the  crucifix;  of  putting  doubts 
into  the  mind  of  a  friend  at  the  point  of  death  as  to  whether  pil- 
grimages or  images  served  any  spiritual  purpose,  or  as  to  whether 
the  Pope  could  give  pardons ;  of  asserting  that  there  were  six  Gods, 
with  irreverent  explanations;  of  denying  the  Real  Presence  and 
the  holiness  of  saints'  days;  of  saying  that  St.  Paul's  Church  was 
a  house  of  thieves  because  the  clergy  were  not  liberal  in  their  alms- 

»  *Lollardy  and  the  Reformation,  vol.  i.,  pp.  516,  517. 


1913-]  ^R  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  493 

giving,  or  that  the  Church  was  too  rich;  or,  again,  that  heretics 
had  been  harbored,  or  that  erroneous  books  had  been  read.  But 
these  charges  were  denied,  and  those  accused  of  them  set  free. 
Only  at  the  close  of  this  pre-Re formation  period  do  we  get  any 
charges  of  a  fresh  nature,  as,  for  instance,  that  some  are  accused  of 
favoring  Lutheran  doctrines,  or  of  irreverence  to  Our  Lady.  But 
what  is  most  important  to  observe  is  that  very  little  is  said  against 
the  Pope,  and  even  what  little  there  is  in  no  way  questions  his 
spiritual  authority.  "  The  nearest  thing  we  find  to  the  modern 
Protestant  position,"  writes  the  Anglican  historian  quoted  before, 
"  was  very  far  indeed  from  a  repudiation  of  the  actual  jurisdiction 
of  the  Church,  and  of  its  existing  Head.  It  was  needless  speaking 
against  a  jurisdiction  so  firmly  established.  Only  royal  power  could 
possibly  shake  that,  and  the  idea  of  royal  power  being  so  exerted 
was  the  last  that  would  occur  to  anyone  at  this  time."*  This, 
as  I  have  said,  was  as  late  as  1527. 

In  this  same  year,  More  accompanied  Wolsey  on  an  important 
mission  to  France. f  Considering  the  momentous  questions  at  issue, 
of  which  More  must  have  had  some  first-hand  knowledge,  and  of 
which  mention  will  be  made  later,  it  seems  more  than  probable 
that  on  this  same  occasion  he  acquired  an  insight,  clearer  than  ever 
before,  into  the 'fatal  possibilities  which  threatened  his  country  and 
his  Faith.  The  great  imperialist  victory  at  Pavia  in  1525,  when 
Francis  I.  was  captured,  left  the  Roman  court  at  the  mercy  of 
Charles  V.,  and  the  Pope  practically  his  prisoner.  In  July,  1526, 
Moncada  captured  the  Papal  palace,  and  the  Pope  fled  in  terror  to 
St.  Angelo.  In  May,  1527,  the  Holy  City  was  itself  sacked,  with 
accompanying  horrors  that  shocked  the  conscience  of  Europe.  "All 
the  churches/'  wrote  Cardinal  Como  who  was  present,  "  and  the 
monasteries,  both  of  monks  and  nuns,  were  sacked.  Many  monks 
were  beheaded,  even  priests  at  the  altar;  many  aged  nuns  were 
beaten  with  sticks,  and  young  ones  violated,  robbed,  and  made  pris- 
oners; all  the  vestments,  chalices,  silver,  were  taken  from  the 

churches Cardinals,  bishops,  monks,  priests,  old  nuns,  infants, 

pages,  and  servants — the  very  poorest — were  tormented  with  un- 
heard-of cruelties — the  son  in  the  presence  of  his  father,  the  babe 
in  the  sight  of  its  mother.  All  the  registers  and  documents  of 
the  Camera  Apostolica  were  sacked,  torn  in  pieces  and  partly  burnt." 
Another  witness  writes  to  Charles  V. :  "  Our  men  sacked  the  whole 
Borgo,  and  killed  almost  everyone  they  found The  Church 

*James  Gairdner,  A  History  of  the  English  Church,  vol.  v.,  p.  58. 
^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iv.,  nos.  3,216,   3,337. 


494  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [July, 

of  St.  Peter  and  the  Papal  palace,  from  the  basement  to  the  top, 
were  turned  into  stables  for  horses."  He  concludes  with  a  state- 
ment which  shows  most  unmistakably  how  greatly  the  balance 
of  European  powers,  both  religious  and  political,  was  upset,  and 
that  even  kings  were  wondering  what  would  happen  next.  "  We 
are  expecting  to  hear  from  your  majesty  how  the  city  is  to  be 
governed,  and  whether  the  Holy  See  is  to  be  retained  (in  Rome) 
or  not.  Some  are  of  opinion  it  should  not  continue  in  Rome,  lest 
the  French  King  should  make  a  patriarch  in  his  kingdom,  and  deny 
obedience  to  the  said  See,  and  the  King  of  England  and  all  other 
Christian  princes  do  the  same."* 

Now  More  went  to  France  with  Wolsey,  who  was  to  discuss 
this  very  question,  and  also  to  disclose  to  Francis  I.,  "  in  a  dark 
and  cloudy  manner,"  the  "  secret  matter  "  of  Henry's  wish  for  a 
divorce,  f  In  a  letter  of  July  ist,  Wolsey  says  that  he  is  not  a  little 
troubled  that  the  King  should  question  his  zeal  in  the  "  secret 
matter;"  there  is  nothing  he  is  so  desirous  to  advance,  and  he  gives 
a  theological  reason  in  justification  of  his  master's  intention.  In 
all  things  which  concern  the  King's  honor  he  protests  that  he  will 
be  constant  even  if  others  fail.$ 

On  July  3d  he  starts  with  a  brilliant  train,  consisting  of  cer- 
tain lords,  spiritual  and  temporal,  together  with  Sir  Thomas  More, 
Sir  Henry  Guilford,  Sir  Francis  Bryan,  Stephen  Gardiner,  and 
an  accompaniment  of  nine  hundred  horsemen.  He  was  invested 
with  unusual  powers,  as  "  King's  lieutenant,  and  not  as  an  ordinary 
ambassador,  combining  for  the  time  in  his  own  person  the  highest 
spiritual  and  temporal  dignity  of  the  realm."  Setting  out  from 
Westminster,  he  passed  through  London  and  over  London  Bridge, 
with  the  evident  intention  of  marking  the  public  importance  of 
his  mission,  for  it  was  more  usual  to  go  down  the  Thames.  His 
first  business  was  to  meet  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  then 
to  interview  Fisher,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  and  so  to  France.  On 
July  5th  he  reports  to  the  King  his  meeting  with  Warham,  who 
seems  willing  to  follow  his  instructions,  but  Fisher  was  not  so 
amenable.  "  I  told  him,"  writes  Wolsey,  "  the  whole  matter  of 
the  proposed  marriage  between  Francis  and  the  Princess  Mary,  and 
of  the  objection  made^by  the  Bishop  of  Tarbe  (on  the  score  of  the 
invalidity  of  Henry  VIII.'s  marriage  with  Katherine,  the  Princess 
Mary's  mother,  who  had  previously  been  the  wife  of  the  King's 

*Quoted  in  Pollard's  Henry  VII I.  from  //  Sacco  di  Roma,  pp.  471,  499,  517. 
^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iv.,  no.  3,350. 
^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iv.,  nos.   3,217,   3,231. 


1913-]  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  495 

brother,  the  deceased  Prince  Arthur),  and  the  investigations  to 
which  it  had  given  rise,  as  to  the  dispensing  power  of  the  Pope, 
etc.,  for  which  I  was  sent  into  France;  thus  declaring  the  whole 
matter  to  him  as  was  devised  with  you  at  York  Place.  I  added 
that  some  inkling  of  the  matter  had  come  to  the  Queen's  knowl- 
edge, who  casting  further  doubts  than  was  intended  had  broken 
with  your  Grace  thereof  after  a  very  displeasant  manner,  saying, 
that,  by  my  procurement  and  setting  forth,  a  divorce  was  purposed 
between  her  and  your  Highness."* 

Whether  or  not  it  was  by  Wolsey's  "  procurement  and  setting 
forth  "  that  the  divorce  was  first  suggested  to  the  King,  the  whole 
miserable  business  was  now  set  in  train.  Wolsey,  not  only  out 
of  pure  devotion  to  his  master's  interests,  but  for  the  very  safety 
of  his  high  but  precarious  position,  was  committed  to  this  disastrous 
course.  But  it  was  no  easy  matter,  even  apart  from  theological 
considerations,  to  bring  it  to  completion.  Charles  V.  was  Queen 
Katherine's  nephew,  already  informed,  and,  as  was  quite  natural, 
very  strongly  opposed  to  it.  Wolsey's  policy  was  therefore  directed 
to  counteract  Charles'  powerful  influence  with  the  Pope,  and  in 
order  to  successfully  accomplish  this  it  might  even  be  necessary 
under  threat  or  compulsion  to  remove  the  Pope  from  Rome,  where 
at  that  time  he  was  nothing  less  than  a  prisoner  in  the  Emperor's 
keeping.  It  must  be  clearly  understood,  and  this  has  not  always 
been  clearly  understood  by  Protestant  historians,  that  in  what 
immediately  followed  there  was  no  attempt  to  weaken  the  Papacy 
either  in  fact  or  theory,  much  less  to  destroy  it.  Henry  VIII.  and 
Francis  I.  wanted  to  get  the  Papacy  freed  from  imperial  compulsion, 
and  to  effect  this  purpose  all  sorts  of  expedients  were  threatened. 
All  this  was  done,  at  this  time,  for  their  own  political  and  per- 
sonal ends,  and  without  any  intentions  consciously  subversive  to 
the  spiritual  authority  of  the  Holy  See. 

The  proposals,  spoken  of  above,  which  after  the  sack  of  Rome 
were  communicated  to  Charles  V.,  had  evidently  a  diplomatic  back- 
ing, and  we  can  now  see  why.  On  July  I4th  we  find  Lee  writing 
to  Wolsey  that  in  certain  letters  which  he  had  seen  "  it  was  ex- 
pressed that  the  French  King  had  intended  to  offer  you  the  papality 
or  patriarchate  of  France,  as  the  French  would  no  longer  obey  the 
Church  of  Rome.  Buclans  said  to  me,  'My  lord  Cardinal  much 
desired  to  have  the  legacy  per  inferior  em  Germaniam.  If  he  will 
have  it  now,  or  the  patriarchate,  I  doubt  not  he  shall  have  it.'  I 

^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iv.,  nos.  3,217,   3,231. 


496  SIR  THOMAS  MORE  AND  HIS  TIME  [July, 

refused  to  report  this,  saying  that  you  would  little  esteem  that 
thing"* 

What  Wolsey  readily  wanted  is  clear  from  his  own  letter  to 
Henry  of  July  29th. 

Daily  and  hourly  musing  and  thinking  on  your  Grace's 
great  and  secret  affair,  and  how  the  same  may  come  to  good 
effect  and  desired  end,  as  well  for  the  deliverance  of  your 
Grace  out  of  thrauld,  pensive,  and  dolorous  life  that  the  same 

is  in,  as  for  the  continuance  of  your  health,  etc I  consider 

the  Pope's  consent  must  be  gained  in  case  the  Queen  should 
decline  my  jurisdiction,  or  the  application  of  the  Cardinals 
be  had.  For  the  first  the  Pope's  deliverance  will  be  necessary, 
for  the  other  the  convocation  of  the  Cardinals  of  France.  The 
Pope's  deliverance  cannot  be  accomplished  except  by  a  peace 
between  the  Emperor  and  the  French  King,  which  is  not  likely, 
considering  the  high  demands  of  the  former.  If  the  Pope 
were  delivered,  I  doubt  not  he  would  easily  be  induced  to  do 
everything  to  your  satisfaction.  The  Cardinals  can  meet  at 
no  place  except  Avignon,  whither  I  propose  to  repair,  to  devise 
with  them  for  the  government  of  the  Church  during  the  Pope's 
captivity,  which  shall  be  a  good  ground  and  fundament  for 
the  effectual  execution  of  your  Grace's  secret  affair.^ 

On  August  9th  Wolsey  writes  to  the  King  of  his  meeting  with 
Francis,  and  mentions  that  the  French  King  had  saluted  More 
and  the  other  important  members  of  the  embassy.  But  of  More's 
own  feelings,  thoughts,  and  actions  during  this  time  we  have  no 
evidence.  He  must  certainly  have  talked  with  Fisher,  when  he 
stayed  at  Rochester,  but  the  Bishop's  lips  were  sealed  as  to  "  the 
secret  matter."  We  cannot  doubt,  however,  that  a  man  of  such 
acumen,  living  close  as  he  did  to  the  very  centre  of  intrigue, 
understood  the  nature  of  Henry's  wishes  and  of  Wolsey's  willing- 
ness to  gratify  them.  The  technical  aspects  of  the  question  would 
hardly,  at  this  early  date,  have  been  within  the  sphere  of  his  com- 
petent judgment,  especially  as  he  was  a  layman,  and  even  theo- 
logians were  yet  doubtful  as  to  facts,  and  divided  in  their  opinions 
on  the  matter. 

The  embassy  returned  to  England  in  September.  Wolsey's 
plans  for  a  General  Council  were  not  carried  out.  The  King  was 
probably  not  at  all  anxious  that  his  minister  should  acquire  further 
spiritual  powers,  for  the  Boleyn  influence  was  waxing,  and  would 
soon  be  strong  enough  to  bring  about  Wolsey's  ruin. 

^Letters  and  Papers,  vol.  iv.,  no.  3,263.  Mbid.,  no.  3,311. 


LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA. 

BY  ELIZABETH   CHRISTITCH. 

|  HE  Albanians  have  never  formed  that  ethnical  entity 
which  can  be  called  a  State,  but  the  tribes  have  cer- 
tainly retained  such  common  characteristics  as  en- 
title them  to  be  considered  a  nation.  At  the  bottom 
of  their  savagery,  there  must  be  some  sterling  qual- 
ities which  preserved  this  nationality  through  the  course  of  many 
vicissitudes  under  various  conquerors.  Greek,  Roman,  Servian, 
Venetian,  and  finally  Turk  held  nominal  sway  over  the  untamable 
Albanian,  but  he  fused  with  none,  not  even  after  the  adoption  of 
Islamism,  which  enabled  him  to  claim  equality  with  the  lordly 
Turk. 

The  Albanians  have  been  connected,  and  have  often  intermixed, 
with  the  Servian  race,  and  Servians  like  to  dwell  on  the  facts 
that  Scanderbeg  was  the  son  of  a  Servian  Princess,  Voyisava; 
that  his  wife,  Danitsa,  was  also  a  Servian;  and  that  all  the  docu- 
ments he  ever  wrote  were  in  the  Servian  tongue.  The  two  races 
are,  however,  quite  distinct,  and  have  been  warring  with  each  other 
for  centuries,  more  fiercely  since  the  advent  of  the  Turk  in  the 
Balkan  Peninsula  and  the  renunciation  by  the  Albanians  of  the 
Christian  creed.  The  number  of  those  who  remained  faithful  is 
computed  at  no  more  than  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  by 
the  Catholic  Bishop  of  Nansati;  and  Bishop  Coletti  of  Sepia,  in 
conversation  with  a  Servian  officer,  gave  it  as  eighty  thousand,  if 
Scutari  were  lost  to  Albania.  Scutari  is  supposed  to  have  thirty 
thousand  inhabitants,  of  whom  two-thirds  are  Mohammedan,  and 
only  one-third  Christian.  It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  population 
of  any  Turkish  province,  and  more  particularly  that  of  a  region 
wherein  the  Turkish  gendarmes  themselves  dared  not  pene- 
trate. Some  authorities  give  five  hundred  and  thirty  thou- 
sand, and  some  one  million  two  hundred  thousand  as  the 
population  of  Albania,  but  Nelegoev,  a  Russian  savant  and  ex- 
plorer, admits  that  all  figures  given  by  himself,  as  well  as  by 
Austrians,  are  merely  guesses.  One  thing  is  agreed  upon :  Alba- 
nians of  the  orthodox  creed  are  so  few  as  to  be  a  negligible  quantity 
in  all  schemes  for  the  unification  and  reconciliation  of  the  race. 
VOL.  xcvii. — 32 


498  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  [July, 

Under  the  name  of  Illyrians,  we  first  hear  of  the  dwellers 
on  the  east  Adriatic  coast,  in  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great. 
They  were  included  in  the  kingdom  of  Epirus,  and,  later,  were 
the  flower  of  the  Roman  Legions  during  the  seventh,  eighth,  and 
ninth  centuries,  till  they  came  under  Servian  rule.  A  Servian 
king,  Vladimir,  is  interred  in  the  monastery  of  Elbasan.  They 
passed  for  a  time  under  Bulgarian  sway,  and  eventually  fell  to 
Byzantium.  In  1343  the  Servian  King  Stefan  Dushan  conquered 
them  once  more,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century 
they  fought  with  the  Slavs  and  Venetians  against  the  Turks.  At 
the  battle  of  Kossovo,  in  1389,  they  fell  in  great  numbers,  but  hence- 
forth we  do  not  hear  of  them  among  the  ranks  of  those  who  resisted 
the  conqueror  till  the  advent  of  their  great  leader,  Scanderbeg. 

The  fifteenth  century  is  the  heroic  age  of  the  Albanians. 
They  had  continued  to  form  part  of  a  Servian  principality,  Zetta, 
a  remnant  of  the  Empire  destroyed  at  Kossovo,  and  were  governed 
by  the  Catholic  Balsha  dynasty;  but  from  1443  to  1467  several 
tribes  coalesced  and  took  for  their  chief  Ivan  Castriota,  father  of 
George,  after  Alexander  (Xander  Beg).  The  feats  of  arms  which 
make  Scanderbeg's  name  imperishable  are  the  greatest  glory  of 
the  Albanians.  His  short  reign,  which  was  a  military  dictatorship, 
gave  the  Turks  more  trouble  than  they  had  had  with  all  the  rest 
of  Christendom.  Albania's  name  and  fame  expired  with  him,  al- 
though it  is  certain  that  there  was  a  strong  Albanian  contingent 
in  the  Venetian  garrison  that  held  Scutari  in  the  Turkish  siege 
of  1478.  The  most  detailed  account  of  the  Christian  tribes  of 
Albania  in  modern  times  is  given  by  a  Servian  monk,  Dosithens 
Obradovitch,  who  traveled  in  1788  through  the  mountains  to  which 
they  had  retreated  before  Turkish  tyranny.  He  was  everywhere 
well  received,  and  spent  several  months  with  the  Chromovites,  a 
tribe  numbering  two  thousand,  who  had  neither  church  nor  pastor, 
but  still  remembered  the  lessons  of  Christianity.  They  knelt  to 
ask  the  monk's  blessing  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  cross  on  his  breast, 
and  showed  their  sense  of  the  necessity  for  prayer  by  entreating 
him  to  stay  with  them,  as  none  of  the  tribe  knew  well  how  to  pray. 

"We  will  take  care  of  you,"  they  said,  "  and  you  will  pray 
for  us  when  we  go  to  fight.  We  will  give  you  as  much  mutton 
as  you  can  eat,  and  ground  corn  for  your  bread,  and  our  young 
men  will  fetch  cool  water  for  you  from  the  spring." 

Dosithens  explained  that  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  his  mon- 
astery, where  he  would  not  forget  them,  and  that  he  would  do 


1913-]  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  499 

his  best  to  send  them  a  priest.  Trouble  broke  out  soon  after 
among  the  neighboring  tribes,  and  the  monk  never  had  occasion 
to  communicate  with  the  Chromovites  again. 

The  Montenegrin  Servians  and  the  Albanians  of  Malessia  were 
constantly  engaged  in  border  fights  till  1892,  when  a  pact  was  made 
at  Vinitza,  a  small  village,  to  renounce  the  vendetta.  One  of  each 
nation  advanced  hand  in  hand  and  threw  a  stone  into  the  Drin  say- 
ing :  "  So  long  as  this  stone  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  river  will 
our  pact  remain."  The  relations  between  the  two  peoples  have  been 
friendly  ever  since,  and  the  Malissoris,  who  rebelled  against  the  or- 
dinance of  the  Young  Turks  three  years  ago,  found  a  refuge  in 
Montenegro  when  their  tyrants  attempted  reprisals.  At  the  time 
of  Bosnia's  annexation  by  Austria,  the  Montenegrins  could  easily 
have  occupied  Scutari  if  it  depended  on  the  will  of  the  citizens. 
The  idea  of  uniting  the  peoples  once  more  under  one  ruler  had 
existed  among  the  Krasnitsh,  Gashi,  Befish  tribes  of  Albania  and 
their  cousins,  the  Montenegrin  clans  of  Bielopavlitch,  Kutchim  and 
Vassoyevitch  since  1833,  when  together  they  enabled  Bishop  Peter 
II.  to  wrest  Podgoritza  from  the  Turks.  In  the  recent  war  the 
Malissoris  fought  under  King  Nicholas'  banner,  and  made  common 
cause  with  the  Balkan  Allies,  while  the  Mirdite  tribe  maintained 
a  more  neutral  attitude.  The  Mirdites  are  noted  for  fealty  to 
their  Catholic  faith  and  loyalty  to  the  Sultan. 

This  tribe  represents  the  best  elements  of  the  Albanian  nation 
and  of  the  Catholics.  The  Mirdites  claim  descent  from  the  early 
Dukajin  tribe,  whose  chief,  Leka,  gave  the  famous  code  that  regu- 
lates the  blood- feud,  or  vendetta,  which  is  still  adhered  to  by 
Christian  and  Mohammedan  alike.  In  1467  the  Mirdites  fought 
with  such  fury  against  the  Turks  that  they  were  left  in  peace 
for  many  decades,  while  their  brethren  were  still  persecuted.  The 
dynasty  which  held  them  together  owes  its  origin  to  the  Pope, 
who,  in  writing  to  the  chief  of  the  Mirdites,  gave  him  the  title 
of  Princeps,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  his  son  would  follow  his 
father's  good  example.  This  was  enough  to  make  the  rulership 
hereditary,  and  it  has  remained  so  for  three  centuries. 

John  Marko  is  the  legendary  hero  of  the  Mirdites.  He  lived 
for  battle,  and  died  leading  a  charge  against  the  Turks.  Most 
of  his  successors  had  the  same  fate.  Marko's  family  enjoyed 
such  prestige  that  other  tribes  made  the  Prince  of  the  Mirdites 
their  arbiter  in  thorny  questions.  The  famous  despot  of  Lower 
Albania,  Ali  Pasha  Tepelen  of  Yanina,  treated  with  the  Mirdites 


500  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  [July, 

as  with  equals.  More  than  once  they  helped  to  subdue  their  kin, 
the  orthodox  Albanians  called  Suliotes,  and  it  was  in  the  tent  of  the 
Mirdite  chief,  Lesh-i-Ziy  (Alexander  the  Dark)  that  the  Suliote 
leader,  Botsarno,  was  slain. 

Lesh-i-Ziy  was  then  governing  the  tribe,  in  lieu  of  his  nephew, 
Kola.  He  took  part  in  many  combats,  fighting  sometimes  in  the 
Turkish  ranks  and  sometimes  in  those  of  their  enemies.  Finally 
he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Sultan;  and  Kola  then  assumed  the 
power  which  rightfully  belonged  to  him.  Kola  threw  in  his  lot 
completely  with  the  Turks,  fought  for  them  at  home  and  in  Asia 
Minor,  and  was  covered  with  honors  and  distinctions.  The  three 
sons  of  Lesh,  jealous  of  their  father's  fame,  conspired  to  get  rid 
of  Kola,  and  obtain  Lesh's  release  and  reinstatement  as  chief  of  the 
tribe.  This  came  to  the  ears  of  Kola,  who  caused  all  three  to  be 
slain  in  one  night.  Meantime,  the  Turkish  government,  having  reason 
to  be  discontented  with  Kola,  played  him  the  bad  turn  of  setting 
Lesh  free,  knowing  he  would  work  retribution.  Lesh  returned 
to  Oroshi,  his  native  place,  full  of  the  desire  for  vengeance,  but 
he  was  met  on  the  road  by  the  Abbot  Bishop  and  all  the  priests 
of  the  tribe,  who  conjured  him  to  forgive  Kola.  Lesh  was  truly 
affected  by  the  exhortations  of  the  devoted  clergy,  and  he  consented 
not  only  to  pardon  the  murderer  of  his  children,  but  to  embrace 
him  in  public.  Uncle  and  nephew  lived  in  amity  for  a  time,  but  the 
consciousness  of  his  failure  to  execute  the  first  duty  of  the  tribal 
law  began  to  weigh  heavy  on  Lesh,  and  he  finally  succumbed  to  the 
rule  of  Dukadin.  One  day  after  they  had  dined  together,  he 
stabbed  Kola  to  death.  This  was  as  late  as  1837. 

The  Albanians  have  always  been  a  law  unto  themselves.  An 
Austrian  tourist,  Karl  Steinmetz,  relates  that  he  saw  a  noted 
brigand,  Osman  Mullah,  walking  freely  in  the  streets  of  Jakovitsa, 
having  returned  from  "  perpetual  banishment "  in  Asia  Minor. 
The  Turkish  authorities  were  only  too  pleased  that  he  left  them 
unmolested.  He  had  formerly  slain  nine  soldiers  sent  to  arrest  him. 
In  Jakovitsa  every  merchant  and  tradesman  has  a  revolver  on  the 
counter,  and  a  gun  hangs  on  the  wall  within  reach.  The  servant 
of  the  Catholic  priest,  says  Steinmetz,  was  the  sole  survivor  of 
a  family  of  twenty-two  members  who  had  succumbed  to  the  law  of 
the  blood-feud. 

A  stranger  in  these  regions  is  viewed  with  mistrust,  particularly 
if  he  wears  a  hat  (shapkali)  and  not  a  fez.  When  accompanied 
bya  "  Faud,"  however,  he  is  sacred,  and  treated  as  an  honored  guest. 


1913-]  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  501 

The  Fauds  are  a  branch  of  the  Mirdite  tribe  who  have  settled  in 
the  plains  round  Jakovitsa,  and  maintained  their  ground  among  the 
Mohammedans  by  practising  such  fierce  retaliation  for  attack  that 
they  are  now  respected  and  unmolested.  They  never  attack  first; 
are  quiet,  industrious  tillers  of  the  soil,  and  known  to  keep  their 
word,  "  bessa,"  inviolate.  There  are  forty  Faud  families  in  Jako- 
vitsa, all  practising  Catholics.  It  was  a  group  of  Fauds  who 
elected  to  die  with  Mehmed  Ali  Pasha,  because  they  had  undertaken 
to  be  his  bodyguard  when  he  came  to  Jakovitsa  to  restore  order, 
and  although  they  were  invited  to  save  themselves  and  leave  him 
to  his  fate — he  was  massacred  by  the  Mohammedan  Albanians — 
they  refused,  and  were  hewn  down  by  his  side,  martyrs  to  the 
"  bessa "  they  had  given  him.  All  Albanian  Catholics  are 
not  of  this  calibre.  Many  hang  to  their  faith  by  a  mere  thread,  and 
pass  from  Catholicity  to  orthodoxy  or  Islamism,  and  back  again  as  it 
suits  them.  The  mentality  of  these  oppressed  and  demoralized 
tribes  is  a  poor  asset  for  the  re-conversion  of  the  land  to  Christian- 
ity, and  the  hatred  between  Mohammedan  and  Christian  is  so 
deadly,  that  the  prospect  of  a  united  state  composed  of  these  con- 
flicting elements  is  not  promising. 

A  Servian  officer  who  took  part  in  the  Albanian  campaign 
told  me  his  Mohammedan  guides  stopped  at  the  river  Drin,  and 
refused  to  accompany  him  any  further.  They  had  never  crossed 
to  the  other  side,  and  could  give  no  information  about  the  inhabit- 
ants, except  that  they  were  Christians.  The  Servians  had  to  pro- 
ceed with  their  own  scouts  in  this  unknown  land,  which  was  not 
entirely  Christian,  as  they  soon  learned  to  their  cost.  The  villages 
of  Patchran  and  Pistoli,  the  first  Mohammedan,  the  second  Chris- 
tian, existed  side  by  side  in  mortal  feud  since  the  memory  of 
man.  A  Servian  scout  came  first  on  Patchran,  and  accosted  an 
Albanian  whom  he  saw  cutting  branches  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village.  To  his  inquiry  in  halting  Albanian :  "  Shum  Turaka  ?  " 
("  Any  Mohammedans  here?  ")  he  got  the  laconic  answer,  "  Pak  " 
("A  few").  He  then  asked  if  the  Servian  troops  would  be 
allowed  to  pass  unmolested,  and  the  Albanian  said  distinctly  three 
times,  "  Po,  Po,  Po  "  ("  Yes  ").  The  scout  then  made  sign  to  him 
to  walk  by  his  horse's  side  through  the  dirty  narrow  lane  that 
formed  the  street  of  the  village,  and  the  Albanian  did  so.  Four 
or  five  others  now  came  forward,  and  corroborated  the  first  man's 
assurance  that  the  Servians  were  free  to  pass  that  way  and  purchase 
provender.  Next  clay  an  entire  squadron  acting  on  this  in  forma- 


502  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  [July, 

tion  rode  through  the  village,  and  was  fired  at  from  every  door 
and  window.  The  instant  a  soldier  fell  the  Albanians  darted  out 
and  hacked  him  with  knives,  which  gave  the  Servians  a  chance  of 
retaliation.  The  rest  of  the  troops  soon  came  up  and  bombarded 
the  village  to  the  great  joy  of  the  men  of  Pistoli,  who  now  appeared 
on  the  scene  and  wreaked  the  vengeance  of  centuries  on  their  foes. 
They  begged  the  Servians  to  allow  them  to  wipe  out  Patchran 
for  ever,  but  promised  that  the  fugitives  from  the  burning  village 
would  not  be  slain  on  their  way  to  the  nearest  Mohammedan  centre. 
In  the  Balkan  War  there  have  been  several  striking  examples  of 
Mohammedan  readiness  to  sacrifice  life  for  the  sake  of  the  place  in 
heaven  which  awaits  the  slayer  of  a  "  giaour  "  (unbeliever).  This 
scout  told  me  he  frequently  saw  a  Mohammedan  deliberately  court 
death  by  shooting  a  Servian  soldier,  knowing  that  the  moment  after 
he  would  himself  be  riddled  with  bullets.  The  two  creeds  survive 
in  Albania  by  mutual  avoidance  of  contact.  The  Mohammedans 
are  always  the  aggressors,  and,  as  a  rule,  it  is  they  who  terror- 
ize. On  the  river  Matsi,  north  of  Durazzo,  a  number  of  marauders 
were  singled  out  of  a  crowd  of  prisoners  in  the  Servian  camp  by 
the  Catholic  priest  of  the  place,  who  detailed  the  outrages  they 
had  committed  on  his  flock.  At  his  behest  all  were  executed. 

The  hamlets  of  Kosmatch  and  Ashti  near  Scutari  are  another 
instance  of  Albanian  "  fraternity."  The  Catholic  Bishop  of  Ales- 
sio,  in  his  visits  to  Ashti,  was  obliged  to  make  a  long  round,  so  as  to 
avoid  the  environs  of  Kosmatch,  a  nest  of  Mohammedans.  The 
men  of  Ashti  and  Kosmatch  shot  at  each  other  whenever  they  met, 
but  this  duty  was  obviated  by  the  use  of  different  paths  to  the  valley 
below  when  they  left  the  shelter  of  their  villages.  After  the  defeat 
of  the  Turks  near  Alessio,  the  Servians  advanced  quickly  to  seize 
Kosmatch,  but  they  found  it  a  mass  of  smoking  ruins.  The  men 
of  Ashti  had  been  before  them,  and  the  Servians  were  incensed 
at  the  destruction  of  large  stores  of  hay  that  would  have  been  of 
value  to  the  cavalry  convoy.  The  Servian  commander  was  amused  at 
the  effrontery  of  the  plunderers,  who  offered  to  sell  him  the  flocks 
they  had  driven  off  at  the  approach  of  the  victors;  but  a  more  equit- 
able arrangement  was  made  with  regard  to  these  spoils  of  war  by 
the  mediation  of  the  Bishop.  All  the  inhabitants  of  Kosmatch  had 
fled  to  Scutari,  imperfectly  surrounded  at  that  time  by  the  Monte- 
negrins, except  one  family  consisting  of  an  aged  man,  his  wife, 
and  a  grandson  of  eight,  who  already  described  himself  as  a 
"  Turk."  The  Mohammedan  Albanians  invariably  call  themselves 


1913-]  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  503 

"  Turks,"  and  are  thus  designated  by  their  Christian  compatriots. 
This  family  was  given  the  protection  of  a  Servian  guard,  and  made 
itself  useful  in  many  ways  to  the  troops  of  occupation,  its  only 
fear  being  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  men  of  Ashti. 

The  Servian  detachment  at  Kosmatch  had  strict  orders  not 
to  engage  in  any  combat  while  their  numbers  were  so  inferior, 
and  this  quiescence  encouraged  the  garrison  of  Scutari  to  make 
raids  on  Ashti  for  food  supplies.  The  Servian  commander,  rinding 
Ashti  could  become  also  a  point  of  strategic  importance  for  the 
enemy,  resolved  to  destroy  it,  and  warned  the  villagers  to  remove 
their  belongings,  and  remain  behind  the  Servian  positions  until 
the  fall  of  Scutari.  They  did  so,  compensation  for  their  ruined 
dwellings  being  distributed  as  usual  according  to  the  advice  of  the 
Bishop.  The  burning  of  an  Albanian  village  is  an  easy  matter, 
for  the  walls  of  the  houses  are  of  mud  and  the  roof  of  thatch. 
There  is  little  or  no  furniture.  Burning  each  other's  villages  is  a. 
favorite  pastime  of  Mohammedan  and  Christian  Albanians,  but 
the  damage  done  is  not  considerable. 

The  Malissori  tribe  in  these  regions  do  not  call  themselves 
Albanians  but  "  Catholics,"  so  that  the  name  has  come  to  be  con- 
sidered as  a  kind  of  nationality.  The  men  have  a  cross  tattoed 
on  their  arm  and  the  women  on  their  breast.  At  the  approach 
of  the  Servian  troops  the  Malissoris  ran  to  meet  them,  calling 
out  "  Catholic !  Catholic !  "  and  rubbing  back  their  sleeves  to  show 
the  hidden  cross.  Throughout  the  period  of  occupation  they  be- 
haved as  friends  and  allies,  doing  every  good  turn  but  that  of  help- 
ing in  pitched  battle.  The  Servian  relay  post  between  Durazzo  and 
Alessio  was,  on  one  occasion,  attacked  by  the  "  Turks,"  and  eight 
cavalrymen  were  besieged  in  a  hut  for  several  days.  The  Catholics 
who  heard  of  it  ran  at  night  to  inform  the  Servians  at  Durazzo, 
and  a  relieving  force  was  dispatched,  which  arrived  just  in  time. 
The  besieged  postmen  were  not  only  hungry,  but  had  used  up 
their  ammunition  in  keeping  at  bay  the  Mohammedan  Albanians 
who  tried  to  set  fire  to  the  hut. 

The  Servians  got  full  appreciation  for  the  manner  in  which 
they  preserved  order,  protected  life  and  property  wherever  they 
were  quartered,  and  paid  for  whatever  they  requisitioned.  In  a 
speech  by  the  Bishop  of  Nansati  on  February  I5th,  the  Servian 
commander  was  thanked  for  his  generosity  and  prudence  in  dealing 
with  the  Albanians.  A  sum  of  money,  gift  of  the  Servian  Red 
Cross  Society,  was  distributed  by  the  Bishop  and  his  four  assistant 
priests  to  the  families  whose  homes  had  been  destroyed  by  Risa 


504  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  [July, 

Beg,  then  Governor  of  Scutari,  and  on  this  occasion  the  recipients 
cheered  loudly  for  their  "  deliverers."  The  Servians  soon  realized, 
nevertheless,  that  the  clergy  of  Albania  owed  allegiance  to  Austria, 
and  that  the  blood  shed  by  Servians  for  the  freedom  of  Albania 
would  not  alter  that  allegiance.  Austria  has  certainly  done  much 
for  religion  among  the  Catholic  tribes.  In  the  village  of  Nansati 
there  is  a  handsome  church  built  by  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph, 
whose  features  are  supposed  to  be  reproduced  in  the  picture  of  St. 
Francis  that  hangs  over  the  altar. 

An  Albanian  Bishop  is  a  fine  military-looking  figure,  generally 
under  forty,  with  a  smart  gold-braided  cap,  moustaches  brushed 
upward  at  the  points,  dark  purple  soutane,  and  an  authoritative 
mien.  He  is  sure  to  speak  fluent  Italian,  and  to  be  a  highly-cultured 
man.  His  orders  are  strictly  obeyed,  except  in  the  remote  parts 
of  his  diocese,  where  they  may  still  come  in  conflict  with  the  retri- 
butive laws  of  Dukadin.  The  Servians  were  much  impressed  at 
the  ecclesiastical  discipline,  unknown  to  themeslves,  evident  among 
the  Catholic  Albanians,  as  well  as  at  the  regular  attendance  at 
Mass  of  people  who  came  miles  over  the  mountains,  and  had  to 
start  long  before  dawn.  The  celebration  at  Easter  was  imposing 
in  Alessio,  in  spite  of  poverty  and  primitive  conditions.  The  Al- 
banian flag  (a  black  eagle  on  a  red  ground,  above  a  white  cross) 
waved  from  the  little  church  spire,  and  the  bell  rang  loudly  after 
a  silence  of  centuries.  The  church  is  a  modest  structure,  dating 
from  1240,  but  well  preserved.  Over  the  altar  is  a  fine  old  painting 
of  the  Annunciation,  which  has  a  rent  in  the  middle,  due  to  a 
Turkish  sword  slash.  This  rent  is  a  reminder  that  the  cross  on 
the  Catholic  Albanian  flag  must  be  replaced  by  the  crescent,  or 
simply  eliminated,  if  there  is  to  be  any  pretense  of  harmony  in  the 
new  autonomous  Albania. 

The  women  enter  the  church  first,  and  kneel  on  the  stone 
floor  in  front  of  the  altar.  The  men  have  low  wide  stools  on  which 
to  squat  as  well  as  kneel.  Mass  is  said  in  Latin,  and  at  its 
close  an  Albanian  hymn  was  sung  with  fervor  on  this  occasion. 
Father  Seraphim,  the  officiating  priest,  told  the  strangers  that  it 
was  called  "  Vai  in  Kagnout,"  which  means  "  The  Sorrows  of 
Jesus,"  and  the  first  verse  runs  thus : 

Krushti  dashtom  mekouop 

Ci  fay  tur  kush  tesflernoy. 

(Dear   loving   Lord   Whom    I   bound 

With   cords   as   is   done   to   thieves.) 


1913-]  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  IN  ALBANIA  505 

After  the  hymn  came  the  sermon,  which  treated  of  the  Resur- 
rection, and  the  preacher  also  alluded  to  current  events,  advising  his 
flock  to  be  peaceful,  patient,  and  confident,  for  these  virtues  were 
especially  suited  to  their  circumstances.  Permission  was  asked 
from  the  Servian  commander  for  the  congregation  to  fire  off  their 
rifles  in  honor  of  the  day.  It  was  given  on  condition  that  there 
were  to  be  no  shots  on  the  road  home,  as  there  was  danger  of 
rousing  and  irritating  the  Mohammedans  in  the  environs.  The 
firing  was  done  outside  the  church  door,  Father  Seraphim  leading 
off  with  the  first  shot,  as  delighted  as  a  child.  Such  volleys 
were  never  heard  before  in  Alessio,  except  during  the  Mohammedan 
feast  of  Bairam. 

An  Albanian  of  Nishli,  named  Zef  (Joseph)  Mala  invited  a 
group  of  the  Servians  to  visit  him,  and  they  proceeded  to  his 
village  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon.  The  houses  were  similar 
to  those  of  the  Mohammedan  Albanians  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  Drin,  poor  structures  of  two  stories,  the  lower  for  cattle,  the 
upper  for  the  family.  The  latter  is  reached  by  an  outside  staircase, 
and  consists  of  but  one  apartment.  Through  the  defective  plank 
floor  the  odor  of  the  stables  ascends  and  vitiates  the  air.  There  are 
no  windows,  but  light  comes  from  loopholes  in  the  wall,  which  serve 
chiefly  as  gun  rests  whence  to  fire  on  the  enemy  outside.  There  is 
no  chimney,  so  that  when  fire  is  made  in  winter  the  smoke  gathers 
in  a  thick  mass  near  the  ceiling. 

It  was  at  once  evident  that  all  Zef  s  household  were  Christians, 
for  the  hostess  and  her  daughters  and  sons  came  with  him  to  the 
gate  of  the  enclosure  to  receive  the  guests.  The  interior  too  gave 
an  impression  of  civilization  superior  to  what  the  Servians  had 
seen  in  Mohammedan  dwellings.  There  were  strips  of  carpet  and 
cushions  on  the  floors,  a  picture  of  St.  Nicola  on  the  walls,  and 
plank  shelves  at  one  end  of  the  room.  Cigarettes  and  small  Turkish 
bowls  of  coffee  were  served  to  the  guests  as  soon  as  they  had  seated 
themselves  on  the  cushions.  The  Albanians  sat  cross-legged  on 
the  floor,  but  not  like  the  Turks,  for  they  first  knelt,  and  then 
let  the  weight  of  their  bodies  rest  on  their  heels.  The  women 
did  not  sit,  nor  take  any  part  in  the  conversation,  which  was  carried 
on  by  means  of  an  interpreter.  Zef  behaved  with  great  politeness. 
He  complimented  the  Servians  on  their  victory  over  the  Turks,  and 
said  Albanians  would  be  forever  grateful  to  them.  He  remarked 
on  the  similarity  of  many  words  in  the  Servian  and  the  Albanian 
languages,  and  said  the  two  peoples  should  henceforth  live  in  amity. 
The  Servian  custom  of  the  "  Slava,"  celebrating  the  feast  of  a 


5o6  POETS  [July, 

patron  saint,  existed  among  many  Albanian  tribes.  Zef  himself 
celebrated  the  feast  of  St.  Nicola  after  the  manner  of  the  Catho- 
lics in  the  villages  near  Prisren,  who  make  a  candle  the  height  of 
the  master  of  the  house,  and  let  it  burn  three  days  and  three 
nights  before  the  ikon  of  the  patron  saint.  As  many  cakes  are  made 
as  there  are  members  of  the  family — male,  of  course,  for  the 
females  do  not  count.  When  an  Albanian  Catholic  swears  by  his 
Slava  candle,  it  is  the  most  binding  oath  he  can  take.  Should  he 
fail  to  keep  it,  his  cattle  must  be  slain,  and  not  even  his  nearest 
relatives  may  address  a  word  to  him  for  three  years.  These  are 
the  penalties  introduced  by  the  pastors  who  are  endeavoring  to  oust 
by  degrees  the  Draconian  laws  of  Dukadin.  With  the  Mohamme- 
dan Albanians  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  continues 
to  be  the  dogma  of  justice  that  governs  their  relations  with  each 
other. 

The  few  months  of  the  Servian  occupation  of  Albania  have 
brought  these  two  Balkan  peoples  closer  together,  and  laid  the 
foundation  for  a  better  understanding  in  the  future.  The  Bishop  of 
Alessio,  in  bidding  the  Servian  commander  farewell,  said  that  his 
flock  had  never  enjoyed  a  period  of  such  peace  and  prosperity 
as  during  the  sojourn  of  the  Servian  troops  among  them. 


POETS. 

BY   JOYCE    KILMER. 

VAIN  is  the  chiming  of  forgotten  bells 

That  the  wind  sways  above  a  ruined  shrine. 

Vainer  his  voice  in  whom  no  longer  dwells 

Hunger  that  craves  immortal  Bread  and  Wine. 

Light  songs  we  breathe  that  perish  with  our  breath 
Out  of  our  lips  that  have  not  kissed  the  rod. 

They  shall  not  live  who  have  not  tasted  death. 
They  only  sing  who  are  struck  dumb  by  God. 


WAHWOUNI. 

BY  "  OLIVER." 
I. 

T  fell  to  my  lot  to  place  a  balancing  weight  of  stones  in 
the  bows  of  the  canoes  before  launching  them  again 
on  the  lake.  This  last  leg  of  our  course  would  take 
us  diagonally  across  four  miles  of  exposed  water 
to  our  permanent  camp,  so  cosily  hidden  under  the 
pines  on  the  other  shore  of  Baskahegan.  Peol  had  all  morning 
been  predicting  a  stiff  wind  when  the  day  would  be  older,  so  that 
it  behoved  us  now  to  hasten  our  departure;  for  the  crossing  of  the 
lake  in  a  birch  canoe  was  at  most  times  a  matter  of  luck  or 
chance,  so  well  known  were  its  winds  and  cross  currents.  Hitherto 
we  had  been  following  a  sheltered  shore,  on  the  surface  of  a  mirror 
which  the  lea  of  a  close  forest  on  our  left  created  in  the  calm  of 
early  morning;  but  outside,  on  our  right,  we  could  already  per- 
ceive a  ruffling  of  the  water,  with  now  and  then  the  hint  of  a  white 
cap. 

We  had  come  a  good  distance — counting  in  a  troublesome 
portage — and  breakfast  had  been  a  welcome  and  restful  meal. 
Peol  was  now  busy  collecting  his  "  cookin'  tools  "  preparatory  to 
our  departure.  Thus  it  fell  to  me,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
to  fit  our  boats  to  the  venturesome  voyage  ahead  of  us.  A  birch 
canoe  is  a  parlous  and  precarious  support  when  waves  run  high; 
she  must  balance  to  a  hair,  or  there  is  likely  to  be  a  catastrophe; 
to  steer  her  at  all  in  a  head  wind  she  must  hold  well  to  the  water 
at  the  bows.  If  she  be  allowed  to  ride  high  in  such  circumstances, 
no  man  living — no,  not  even  Peol — can  keep  her  on  her  course. 
So  I  chose  the  counterpoising  stones  with  care  from  the  beach, 
where  they  lay  waterwashed  since  the  prehistoric  days  when  the 
Abenaki  first  camped  on  Baskahegan. 

As  we  swung  out  I  was  gratified  to  note  that  the  old  chief — 
at  no  time  an  easy  mentor  in  the  exactions  of  a  canoe — after  a  few 
strokes  settled  down  to  work,  evidently  satisfied  with  the  set  of 
his  boat.  He  took  the  lead,  as  usual — if  there  was  going  to  be  a 
rough  time  I  should  be  quite  content  in  his  wake. 


508  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

The  freshness  of  early  morning  was  over  everything;  the  sun 
shone  intermittingly,  however,  through  level  clouds  which  appeared 
to  hurry  across  the  sky;  the  great  plane  of  water  ahead  darkened 
ominously,  rising  up  to  meet  us  as  we  left  the  shore  behind  us.  On 
our  left,  the  leafy  verdure  of  the  forest,  from  the  sky  line  down 
to  the  drab  and  narrow  beach,  made  a  slope  of  velvet  carpet  which  in 
the  joy  and  greenness  of  its  colors  no  human  weaver  could  imitate. 
Away  off,  on  the  other  shore,  a  diminished  perspective  of  forest 
showed  a  flatter  and  more  habitable  region,  and  there  our  camp 
awaited  us. 

Peol  was  evidently  anxious  to  get  across.  He  plied  his  paddle 
with  a  vigor  which  I  could  easily  interpret,  but  not  so  comfortably 
emulate;  I  could  imagine  him  reaching  our  quarters  far  ahead  of 
me,  and,  meeting  me  on  the  beach,  inquire  with  great  pretense  of 
curiosity  where  I  had  been.  Much  to  my  own  mystification,  how- 
ever, my  canoe  kept  steadily  in  his  wake,  while  his  plunged  and 
labored  heavily;  still  there  was  as  yet  no  wind  to  signify. 

"  Eat  him  too  much  breakfast  for  one  good  Indian,"  he  threw 
at  me,  as  my  bow  nosed  in  on  him.  "  This  old  canoe  is  surely 
sick." 

Now  I  knew  that  his  was  a  new  canoe,  and  that  he  was  much 
attached  to  it  for  its  seaworthy  qualities. 

"Perhaps  she's  down  too  heavy  by  the  head,"  I  replied;  "I 
may  have  weighted  her  too  heavily."  For  I  could  now  see  how 
sluggishly  she  rose  to  the  sea — to  me  she  appeared  waterlogged. 

At  this  moment  a  gust  of  wind  which  had  strayed  somewhere 
from  the  hills  behind  us  on  a  frolic,  came  down  upon  us,  but  being 
of  uncertain  mind,  as  most  lake  winds  are  apt  to  be,  lost  its  bear- 
ings and  struck  up  slantingly  across  the  bows.  I  had  all  I  could 
manage  to  keep  my  course,  Peol's  bark  wriggled  precisely  like  a 
snake  which  hides  itself  in  the  grass.  This  was  the  signal  for  the 
play  of  winds  to  begin.  They  circled,  they  squared,  down  the 
centre,  up  the  sides,  changed  partners,  bowed,  rested,  and  renewed 
the  dance.  The  white  caps  followed,  and  then  the  inrush  of  greater 
waves;  my  canoe  tossed  about  so  willfully  that  I  could  hardly  tell 
which  end  of  my  paddle  was  in  the  water.  Still  I  held  my  course, 
and  my  gunnels  ran  even  with  Peol's.  Suddenly  with  a  snap,  like 
the  crack  of  a  whip,  a  wedge  of  wind  came  between  us,  and  actually 
pushed  me  backward.  I  could  feel  the  impact  like  the  powerful 
pressure  of  some  unseen  hand.  My  canoe  backed  away  in  the 
stress  as  if  she  were  some  living  thing  frighted;  there  was  indeed 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  509 

something  unusually  mischievous,  nay  malignant,  in  the  purposes 
of  the  wind.  As  for  Peol,  when  I  recovered  headway  sufficiently 
to  take  heed  of  him,  he  was  in  the  very  centre  of  a  maelstrom, 
if  I  may  employ  the  word.  His  canoe  had  slanted  so  far  from  her 
course  as  no  longer  to  be  easily  brought  back  to  it,  held  as  she  was 
by  the  wind  across  her  bow,  although  Peol  was  making  a  desperate 
effort  to  bring  her  to.  Spume  and  spray  shot  up  around  him, 
drenching  him,  I  could  see,  and  no  doubt  falling  into  his  boat. 

I  hastened  as  best  I  could  to  his  succor,  if  succor  he 
needed.  The  grimness  of  the  fighter  was  on  his  face, 
but  behind  it  an  utterly  unchecked  amazement.  I  could  see  the  ques- 
tion in  his  eyes  and  on  his  lips.  What  under  high  heaven  had  come 
over  his  boat?  Like  some  wayward  creature,  she  refused  to  answer 
his  efforts,  countervailing  as  they  must  have  been  to  the  pressure 
on  her  bow.  And  all  the  time  the  winds  fought  around  us,  and 
sought  in  their  blind  ways  to  send  us  to  the  bottom. 

"  Here's  for  the  shore,"  I  shouted  at  the  pitch  of  my  voice 
— it  would  be  just  like  Peol  to  fight  there  until  he  was  upset.  I 
knew  that  if  I  turned  back  he  would  have  to  do  so ;  we  were  both  in 
real  danger.  Taking  advantage  of  a  momentary  lull,  I  turned  the 
bow  of  my  bark  shoreward  and  rode  in  on  the  combers.  Peol  fol- 
lowed, as  I  knew  he  would,  and  thus  in  a  few  moments  we  were 
back  almost  where  we  had  started  from. 

"  That  was  a  close  one,"  I  cried  cheerily  to  him  as  his  canoe 
splashed  heavily  on  the  shore  by  mine.  I  knew  he  was  feeling 
humiliated.  "  What  can  be  wrong  with  your  canoe  ?  " 

"  Bewitched,  I  think.  I  know  of  nuthin'  else.  She  won't  ride, 
she  won't  bail,  she  won't  steer — just  lie  like  a  log  in  the  water 
and  shake  her  head.  Fit  only  for  a  trout  stream,"  he  wound  up  in 
utter  disgust.  Having  thus  relieved  his  feelings,  he  added  in  a 
milder  tone,  "  We  have  to  catamaran  or  stay  here  without  dinner." 

The  most  commonplace  observer  could  at  once  infer  that  the 
old  chief  had  no  thought  of  missing  his  dinner;  for  he  was  soon, 
axe  in  hand,  among  the  young  saplings  seeking  two  suitable  poles 
with  which  to  parallel  our  canoes,  catamaran  fashion. 

In  the  meanwhile  I  directed  my  attention  to  his  canoe,  to 
solve  if  possible  the  mystery  of  its  vagaries.  To  this  end  I  began  to 
remove  the  stones  from  the  bow.  I  was  so  occupied  when,  as  I 
turned  to  drop  on  the  ground  a  peculiarly  shaped  stone  which  had 
at  the  outset  attracted  my  attention,  my  action  was  arrested  by  a 
cry  of  alarm  from  Peol.  He  was  close  to  me  by  this  time,  a  pole 


5io  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

in  each  hand;  he  seemed  to  have  uttered  the  cry  without  knowing 
he  did  so.  I  dropped  the  strange  stone  to  the  ground,  and  looked 
from  it  to  the  Indian.  It  might  have  been  some  poisonous  reptile, 
so  disgustedly — and  yet  not  without  alarm — did  Peol  fix  his  eyes 
upon  it. 

It  was  a  common  bit  of  feldspar,  rudely  fashioned  into  the 
form  of  a  truncated  pyramid,  not  more  than  six  inches  in  height; 
had  its  base  been  strictly  circular,  the  diameter  would  not  have  ex- 
ceeded eight  inches.  Apart  from  its  unusual  shape,  there  was 
one  other  curious  thing  about  it:  in  the  flat  top  a  round  well  had 
been  sunk,  obviously  to  hold  water — there  was  still  some  in  it. 
I  turned  to  Peol  for  an  explanation,  and  then  stopped  to  lift  the 
stone. 

"  Stop !  "  he  cried  in  no  uncertain  accents.  "  I  know  it  now. 
That's  one  devil  stone — one  devil  of  the  old  time.  He  lives  in 
that  stone;  aoutem  they  call  him  long  ago.  He  come  out  some- 
time and  tell  my  people  when  trouble  come,  where  good  huntin/ 
how  to  fight  the  enemy.  Sometimes  good,  sometimes  bad — no 
tellin'." 

"  He  was  pretty  vicious  a  moment  ago,"  I  could  not  forbear 
remarking,  "if  it  was  he  who  raised  all  that  pother  on  the  lake." 

"  Yes,  he  bad  now,"  Peol  admitted,  still  keeping  at  a  respect- 
ful distance  from  the  stone.  "  He  want  to  drown  me  because  we 
disturb  him  and  take  him  away  from  his  place  here,"  making  a 
gesture  towards  the  shore. 

"  And  so  this  is  the  wretch  who  has  been  raising  all  the  sea 
and  wind  against  us,"  I  exclaimed  sarcastically.  "  What  do  you  call 
him?" 

"  They  call  him  Wahwouni  in  the  olden  time,"  Peol  answered. 
"  Because  he  never  forget.  This  lake  is  his  lake — Baskahegan, 
spirit  lake.  He  live  here,  no  man  know  where  till  you  find  him — 
better  lose  him  quick."  There  could  be  ho  mistaking  Peol's  earn- 
estness. 

"  Wahwouni  ?  That's  a  sweet  name  for  such  a  vicious  spirit," 
I  remarked  nonchalantly,  bending  over,  and  at  the  same  time  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross  on  the  stone.  Peol  understood  my  action, 
but  shook  his  head.  "  It  takes  prayer  and  fasting  to  drive  that 
devil  out,"  he  muttered.  "  He  too  long  time  there." 

Now  whether  it  was  imagination  or  the  wash  of  the 
waves  on  the  canoe  that  made  the  sound,  I  clearly  heard  a  hiss, 
subdued  but  sharp,  and  what  I  might  for  lack  of  a  better  word  call 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  511 

bitter.  Likewise  it  may  have  been  only  the  nuance  of  a  passing 
cloud,  but  a  shadow  passed  over  and  out  of  the  stone,  leaving  it 
pallid  and  dry.  As  I  said,  this  may  have  been  pure  imagination 
in  me.  I  now  picked  up  the  stone,  and,  judging  it  politic  to  make 
light  of  the  Indian's  superstition,  I  inquired  the  purpose  of  the  hole 
or  circular  depression  in  the  top.  "  Is  that  his  eye,  Peol,  do  you 
believe  ?  " 

"  That  holdem  water,"  he  answered,  retreating  with  most  un- 
graceful agility  when  I  held  the  stone  out  for  his  inspection.  "  Our 
sorcerer  see  things  there — things  which  going  to  happen.  He 
readem  future,  he  readem  past,  all  in  that  little  pool.  I  lookem 
in  there  I  might  see  things,  too,  things  I  no  like  to  see.  My 
fathers  saw  queer  sights  in  that  stone,  perhaps  I  see  'em  too. 
Throw  him  away,  lose  him  quick,"  he  entreated.  "  We  have  no 
time  to  waste  if  we  cross  the  lake."  With  an  outward  show  of 
bravery  and  indifference,  he  proceeded  to  the  work  on  hand,  but 
I  could  see  him  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  stone. 

I  had  no  idea,  however,  of  losing  my  find  so  quickly.  It  was 
not  every  day  that  one  picked  up  a  stone  with  such  marvelous 
powers,  and  such  a  singular  history  as  this.  I  proposed  that  we 
should  carry  it  into  camp  with  us.  As  to  any  present  preter- 
natural power  which  Wahwouni,  this  spirit  stone,  might  possess, 
I  was  openly  skeptical.  I  knew  that  in  the  minds  of  the  super- 
stitious the  idols  of  the  Orient  still  retained  their  mysterious 
power,  which  was  generally  of  a  malignant  cast.  Moreover,  I  had 
the  words  of  the  Psalmist  that  the  gods  of  the  heathen  were 
demons;  still  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  admit  that  possibly  this 
instrument  of  a  blind  superstition  could  at  this  day  still  work  evil. 
It  was  a  curio,  and  I  would  keep  it. 

But  I  had  not  reckoned  with  the  superstitious  repugnance  of 
my  guide.  He  refused  to  be  coaxed  or  cajoled  into  accepting  the 
stone  as  a  shipmate  during  the  hazardous  run  across  to  our  en- 
campment. It  had  already  come  near  sending  us  to  the  bottom; 
it  had  put  enmity  in  his  heart  against  his  good  canoe,  which  was 
like  a  wife  to  him;  it  had  turned  him  back  in  shame,  broken  in 
spirit,  overcome  by  the  waves  of  a  lake  which  he  had  crossed  in 
all  weathers  since  he  was  a  boy — no,  he  would  have  none  of  it. 
Now  that  he  knew  the  reason  of  his  defeat,  that  his  mind  was 
relieved,  and  that  he  could  look  himself  in  the  face  again  and  not 
be  ashamed,  he  would  take  no  new  chances. 

"  If  you  still  want  him,"  he  concluded,  "  leave  him  here,  and 


5i2  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

get  him  when  you  go  home.  Wahwouni,  now  that  he's  found,  do 
no  good  lying  round  here.  How  can  I  tell  you  long  story  about 
him  and  him  listenin'  in  camp?" 

This  naive  intimation  that  he  would  reward  me  with  a  story 
if  I  were  generous  enough  to  respect  his  wishes,  was,  as  he  fully 
expected,  a  conclusive  argument  in  his  favor.  -Peol's  stories  were 
ever  too  good  to  be  missed  on  account  of  a  mean  conjuring  stone, 
especially  as  the  stone  itself  would,  no  doubt,  figure  in  the  narrative. 
Already  I  could  picture  the  camp  fire  lazying  under  the  pines,  Peol 
sitting  comfortably  with  his  back  against  a  log,  his  belt  and  hunting 
knife  dangling  within  reach  overhead,  while  the  shadows  gathered 
and  the  departing  sun  was  hidden  from  us,  except  where  its  fare- 
well shafts  spread  over  the  lake  like  a  benediction,  and  gentled  the 
waters.  An  owl  might  interrupt  from  the  forest  near  us,  or  per- 
haps a  cawquaw  rustle  in  the  underbrush,  but  I  should  listen  in 
great  contentment  of  spirit,  for  Peol's  tales  of  the  ancient  days, 
"  before  white  man  come  to  spoil  good  huntin',"  were  replete 
with  quaint  and  savage  interest.  Nevertheless  I  hid  Wahwouni 
in  my  sweater  when  his  back  was  turned,  and  religiously  sat  upon 
it  during  our  trip  across  the  lake.  Much  against  our  expectations, 
the  crossing  was  made  without  trouble  or  incident.  Our  canoes, 
like  well-matched  steeds,  behaved  admirably  in  harness — Peol's 
bark  rode  the  waves  like  a  thing  of  life.  For  the  time  being,  ob- 
viously, our  demon  had  lost  his  grip. 


II. 


Peol  was  at  some  pains  to  admonish  me  that  his  story  was 
dangerously  out  of  season.  It  was  a  tale  to  be  told  by  the  winter 
fireside  only,  when  the  spirits  of  wood  and  wold  were  closely  im- 
prisoned in  the  frost  and  ice  of  grass  and  flower  and  tree;  it  was 
no  talk  for  an  evening  in  August,  beneath  listening  pines  and  the 
water  lilies  not  yet  closed  for  the  night — not  to  speak  of  the 
sinister  and  vindictive  demon  of  the  lake,  whose  servants  these 
lesser  spirits  were. 

Altogether  he  gave  the  impression  that  he  was  venturing  on 
dangerous  ground,  and  was  rudely  ignoring  tribal  comity  towards 
the  spirits.  A  misgiving  in  turn  now  possessed  me.  What  if  this 
Wahwouni — who  never  forgot  an  insult — should  deliberately  walk 
in  on  us — or  rather  out  on  us,  for  in  my  hurry  I  had  placed  him 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  513 

on  the  edge  of  my  washstand  in  my  tent— and  punish  Peol's 
temerity  ? 

Out  of  deference,  then,  to  the  spirits  the  Indian  related  his 
tale  pianissimo,  as  it  were ;  for  the  old  chief,  despite  his  Christianity, 
was  every  whit  as  firm  a  believer  in  those  old-time  credulities 
of  his  tribe  as  any  of  his  pagan  ancestors  had  been.  From  them 
no  doubt  he  had  inherited  this  inalienable  superstition;  for  in  line 
of  direct  and  legitimate  descent  he  represented  one  of  the  noted 
families  of  the  Abenakis ;  his  forbears  had  been  chiefs  and  leaders 
time  out  of  mind,  and  he  himself  was  still  chief  and  sagamore, 
official  depositary  likewise  of  tribal  history  and  what  we  are  pleased 
to  call  folklore. 

I  will  put  his  story  into  such  English  as  I  can  command. 
Peol's  English  was  quaint  and  commatic,  so  that  what  this  tale  may 
lose  in  picturesqueness  of  diction  may  be  atoned  ior  by  its  greater 
clearness  and  intelligibility.  Again,  I  may  be  forgiven  too  if 
in  places  I  skip  portions  of  his  narrative,  with  the  hope  thus  of 
not  tiring  my  readers  unduly,  for  Peol  was  apt  to  be  specific  in 
his  descriptions  of  trails  and  movements  with  which  the  reader  can 
have  no  concern.  So  we  sit  around,  in  every  posture  of  comfort, 
and  listen  while  he  calls  up  unwritten  memories  of  the  olden  days. 

"  The  winter  had  been  a  presage  of  unaccountable  things ;  out 
of  the  ordinary  in  the  contrariety  of  its  unseasonable  mildness. 
There  was  little  snow  and  much  rain,  with  a  tantalizing  uncertainty 
between  whiles  as  to  whether  it  meant  to  snow  or  rain.  In  conse- 
quence the  lakes  and  rivers  refused  to  freeze  over;  hunting  and 
trapping  became  impossible;  and  more  than  one  life  was  sacrificed 
to  accident.  Happily  the  larger  game  did  not  retire  to  the  hilly 
country,  so  that  moose  and  deer  were  plentiful  on  the  plains.  The 
unseasonableness  of  the  weather  might  therefore  have  been  neg- 
lected as  an  omen,  had  it  not  been  for  the  strange  aspect  of  the 
sun.  It  was  that  which  depressed  our  old  men.  In  the  morn- 
ings he  rose  sluggishly,  as  if  dragging  himself  unwillingly  out  of 
bed,  and  often  with  strange  illuminations  of  bloody  red;  through- 
out the  day  he  ran  his  course  in  a  leaden  sky,  now  with  the  burning 
heat  of  August,  again  like  a  painted  fire  which  gives  no  heat. 

"  Here  was,  indeed,  a  distressing  and  significant  presage  of  evil 
to  come.  To  increase  the  general  anxiety,  the  forests  which  in 
summer  delighted  the  eye  with  their  greenness,  blackened  as  if  death 
had  touched  them  as  he  passed.  At  first,  roots  and  shrubs  and 
trees,  misled  by  the  prevailing  mildness  and  goaded  by  those  un- 

VOL.  xcvii.— 33 


514  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

natural  swells  of  heat,  sent  up  sap  and  then  burgeoned  and  blos- 
somed into  leaf,  only  to  have  their  premature  offerings  blackened 
and  killed  by  intervening  frosts.  Not  disheartened  by  this  first 
mischance,  the  poor  things,  under  the  inflammation  of  a  succeeding 
spell  of  heat,  again  removed  their  leafing;  to  be  again  set  back, 
their  sap  wasted,  and  their  lives  put  in  jeopardy.  Blackened  and 
decrepit,  they  saddened  the  outlook;  only  the  evergreens  and  the 
few  hardwoods  which  bud  late  remained  to  soften  the  mourning 
of  the  forests. 

"  In  the  tribe,  too,  many  unnatural  occurrences  came  to  awe 
and  dismay  the  weak  of  heart.  Dreams  of  frightful  augury  were 
of  nightly  occurrence ;  strong  men  died  suddenly,  without  warning ; 
children  were  born  of  monstrous  shapes,  so  that  their  mothers 
disowned  them;  while  over  all  the  land  brooded  the  dark  ex- 
pectancy of  impending  tragedy.  As  a  climax  to  the  general  dis- 
tress, runners  brought  in  tidings  of  a  woeful  plague  among  the 
Micmacs,  and  that  our  other  allies,  the  Malicetes,  were  stricken 
with  some  strange  distemper.  Report  said  that  the  salmon  were 
dying  on  the  shores  of  the  Ouigoudi.  Rain  had  long  ceased  to 
fall,  the  earth,  parched  and  thirsty,  glowered  in  the  sunshine  of 
spring  when  it  should  have  smiled  and  rejoiced;  rivers  knew  no 
rush  of  great  waters,  and  our  lakes  seethed  and  muddied  from 
the  bottom. 

'''  There  was  a  great  outcry  for  the  aoutmom,  or  sorcerers,  to 
consult  the  spirits;  but  the  sorcerers  were  helpless,  for  the  spirits 
refused  to  speak.  The  chiefs  were  anxious  to  know  what  to  do. 
Should  the  tribe  remain  in  its  present  position  or  retire  to  its  great 
hunting  grounds  far  away  in  the  depths  of  the  northern  woods? 
Still  no  answer  came.  The  young  warriors  and  all  who  loved 
novelty  and  adventure  clamored  for  the  change,  but  the  old  men 
clung  to  their  homes  and  refused  to  go.  So  by  general  consent 
it  was  left  to  the  head  chief,  who  was  also  the  great  aoutmoin,  and 
knew  the  spirits  best,  to  call  up  the  demon  of  the  tribe — men 
dared  not  call  upon  him  heedlessly — and  ask  his  guidance. 

"  Thus  it  happened  that  the  devil  stone,  Wahwouni  " — here 
Peol  made  a  silent  gesture  with  his  pipe  to  the  farther  shore — "  was 
brought." 

At  this  conjuncture  a  most  untimely  racket  arose  within  my 
tent,  the  flap  of  which  was  held  back.  A  sharp  squeal,  followed  by 
a  muffled  fall,  frightened  rustlings  among  the  spruce  bows  that 
formed  my  bed,  brought  me  to  my  feet.  I  hurried  within,  drawing 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  515 

the  flap  close  after  me;  somehow  I  had  a  premonition  that  Wah- 
wouni  was  bestirring  himself.  Sure  enough,  he  was  down  on  the 
ground  near  the  door,  beneath  my  feet,  while  the  saucy  flirt  of  a 
privileged  tail  and  the  cunning  glance  of  two  sharp  eyes  dis- 
covered to  me  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  A  large  gray  squirrel, 
which  had  grown  to  be  a  pet  with  me,  in  its  search  for  a  stray 
bit  of  lump  sugar,  had  unwittingly  upset  Wahwouni  from  his  pre- 
carious eminence.  Hastily  bundling  him  among  the  blankets,  and 
making  a  pretense  of  chasing  the  squirrel,  I  made  noise  enough 
to  acquaint  Peol  with  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  Still  I  could 
not  divert  my  mind  from  the  thought  that  Wahwouni  had  tried  to 
come  out  and  interrupt  him. 

"  They  brought  out  Wahwouni  " — Peol  resumed,  having  re- 
lighted his  pipe  in  the  meantime,  "  from  the  sacred  recess  where 
he  was  kept,  and  with  him  the  framework  of  the  conjuror's  hut 
in  which  Nadoga,  the  chief,  would  consult  the  spirit.  On  such  a 
day  of  expectancy  the  whole  tribe  assembled.  It  was  a  serious 
occasion,  and  one  which  might  not  occur  again  within  the  span 
of  a  man's  life.  From  all  the  outlying  encampments,  therefore, 
men  hurried  in  so  as  not  to  lose  the  spectacle.  Babies  at  the  breast 
were  brought  that  it  might  be  said  in  later  days  that  they  were 
present  when  Wahwouni  spoke  last  to  his  people.  My  grandmother 
told  me  that  her  great-grandmother  had  told  her  mother  how  shaken 
and  terrified  old  Nadoga  the  sorcerer  was  that  day — as  well  he 
might,  for  Wahwouni  had  a  reputation  for  temper  and  violence; 
a  sorcerer  consulting  him  was  likely  to  be  left  unconscious  for 
hours  afterward.  He  bade  his  family  good-bye  in  a  sorrowful 
frame  of  mind,  and,  with  Wahwouni  on  his  arm,  entered  his 
conjuring  hut.  Around,  at  a  respectful  distance,  the  chiefs  and 
warriors  were  gathered  in  circles  according  to  dignity,  and  behind 
them  the  women  and  children. 

"  Nadoga  was  lost  to  view  amid  the  stillness  of  the  people. 
In  a  little  while  those  who  were  nearest  could  hear  him  talk  as 
if  to  himself.  For  some  minutes  there  was  silence,  and  then  he 
groaned  loudly  as  if  his  heart  would  break.  Then  he  appeared  to 
rouse  himself;  the  sides  and  corners  of  the  hut  began  to  quiver 
and  sway;  a  seething  sound  like  the  falling  of  water  on  a  red- 
hot  stone  followed;  vapor-like  steam  mounted  through  the  opening 
at  the  top;  the  structure  danced  round  and  round  in  circles;  and 
finally  flew  into  the  air  as  if  thrown  by  some  mighty  hand.  Nadoga 
lay  on  the  ground  in  full  view,  unconscious,  while  from  the  stone 


516  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

at  his  side  a  white  vapor  arose,  which  quickly  enveloped  him.  The 
crowd,  awe-struck,  fell  on  their  faces,  from  chief  to  stripling,  and 
from  out  the  steam  cloud  came  a  voice — which  was  not  the  voice 
of  Nadoga: 

"  'Seek  ye,  O  children  of  the  seashore,  another  home  far 
from  the  rumbling  of  the  sea,  for  there  comes  a  spirit  whom  we 
cannot  resist.  I  would  save  you  from  his  power,  for  he  would 
make  women  of  you.  Plague  and  death  have  come  to  the  Ouigoudi 
and  to  the  shores  of  the  Micmacs,  the  earth  is  drying  up,  the  sun 
shines  in  anger,  the  rain  has  forgotten  to  fall,  because  of  his 
coming.  Save  yourselves,  O  Abenaki,  before  it  is  too  late.' 

"  The  voice  was  dying  away,  in  a  moment  the  presence  would 
be  gone.  Then  did  Mauwesta  a  daring  deed,  which  won  him 
renown  in  after  years.  Rising  while  still  the  echoes  of  the  spirit 
voice  were  carrying  on  the  breeze,  he  put  the  question  which  was  in 
every  mind: 

"  'O  Spirit,  when  shall  we  return  to  these  homes  of  our  people  ?' 

"  Like  the  echo  of  a  voice  in  the  summer  evening  when  the 
speaker  speaks  lightly,  forgetting  that  any  one  listens,  came  the 
answer : 

"  'When  a  virgin  maid  of  the  Abenaki  shall  lead  great 
warriors  by  a  thread,  and  bring  their  scalps  to  your  knives,  then 
shall  you  return  with  joy,'  the  voice  trailed  off  into  the  wail  of  a 
child,  and  floated  on  the  breeze  to  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

"  The  multitude  lifted  their  heads  with  a  sigh,  which  traveled 
from  rank  to  rank.  The  cloud  was  gone;  Nadoga  stood  erect, 
rubbing  his  eyes  like  a  man  who  had  awakened  from  a  deep  sleep. 
Suddenly  his  hands  went  out  before  his  face,  as  if  he  would  shut 
out  something  he  did  not  wish  to  see.  'Canoes !  Canoes !'  he  cried, 
'four  abreast — O  men  of  the  Abenaki,  must  a  woman  die  to  save  us  ?' 
And  then  he  fell  like  one  dead,  and  they  carried  him  away.  But 
the  stone,  Wahwouni,  still  lay  upon  the  ground. 

"  Some  of  the  knowing  ones  afterward  claimed  that  they 
knew  from  Nadoga's  sorrow  that  day  who  the  maid  would  be ;  but 
that  was  after  the  fact,  when  it  is  always  easy  to  know  things. 

"  I  am  mighty  glad,"  said  Peol  in  an  altered  voice,  as  if  he 
no  longer  courted  secrecy  for  his  story,  "  I  am  mighty  glad  to  be 
quit  of  Wahwouni  henceforth  in  this  story.  I  have  not  felt  well 
since  I  began  to  tell  it — sort  of  uncomfortable  as  if  he  were  some- 
where near  threatening  me." 

And  I  was  in  turn  glad  that  Wahwouni  was  well  wrapped  in 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  517 

the  blankets.  No  doubt  he  had  heard  Peol's  tale,  nevertheless,  so 
far.  What  form  his  vengeance  may  take  against  the  old  man, 
I  cannot  foresee,  but  I  have  a  steady  premonition  that  he  will  do 
something  awkward. 

III. 

"  Which  route  the  tribe  took  to  reach  its  new  hunting  grounds 
in  the  north  country,  does  not  matter  much  to  this  story,"  Peol 
resumed.  "  It  is  not  likely  that,  with  the  plague  among  the  Mali- 
cetes,  they  would  go  by  the  Ouigoudi,  although  that  trail,  which  they 
called  the  Medoctic,  was  a  favorite  one.  On  the  shores  of  the  lake 
which  is  now  called  Squawpan,  they  built  their  council  house. 
There  they  dwelt  in  the  heart  of  a  country  overspread  with  lakes 
and  streams,  resting  one  arm  on  the  Ouigoudi,  the  other  on  the 
Allegash  and  Penobscot.  The  rivers  were  full  of  fish,  the  forests 
abounded  in  game,  rain  fell  in  generous  showers;  and  while  the 
women  missed  their  garden  vegetables,  another  year  would  bring 
abundance.  Thus  the  tribe  settled  down  to  their  new  life,  away 
from  the  rote  of  the  sea  which  they  loved.  The  country,  it  is 
true,  was  not  unknown  to  them;  it  had  been  theirs  for  centuries, 
and  so  all  the  more  resignedly  they  now  accepted  it. 

"  But  always  they  grieved  for  the  homes  they  had  left,  particu- 
larly the  aged  people,  who  could  not  so  easily  accept  new  things  and 
changes.  The  decree  of  Wahwouni  barred  the  way,  however, 
together  with  fear  of  the  plague,  the  rusting  of  the  land,  and  the 
strange  spirit  which  would  make  them  women.  Still  the  longing 
could  not  be  driven  from  their  hearts.  The  strange  and  what  ap- 
peared impossible  condition,  on  the  fulfillment  of  which  their  return 
would  be  permitted,  gave  still  less  hope  of  speedy  relief.  No  enemy 
was  in  sight,  whose  defeat  and  destruction  at  the  hand  of  a  young 
girl  would  verify  the  prophecy.  North  and  west  of  them  the  Hur- 
ons  and  Algonquins  held  the  ridge  of  highlands  to  the  great  river 
and  beyond,  but  these  tribes  never  had  been  their  enemies.  How 
then  should  their  emancipation  be  effected  ?  And  so  the  outlook  for 
an  early  return  was  disheartening.  Still  the  life  of  the  tribe  went 
on  unbroken.  Children  were  born,  and  men  died,  and  love-making 
on  the  shores  of  the  lake  never  ceased  in  the  evenings  when  the 
maidens  drew  water  from  the  springs. 

"  To  keep  the  minds  of  the  people  occupied,  scouts  were  sent 
among  the  Hurons  and  Algonquins  to  discover  whether  any  war 


5i8  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

spirit  possessed  these  tribes  against  the  Abenaki,  but  no  such  spirit 
could  be  found.  The  Hurons  rather  were  incensed  against  the 
Mengwe  of  the  west,  who  had  been  making  bold  forays  against  the 
Andastes  of  the  Adirondacks,  and  had  even  encroached  on  the 
Huron  hunting  grounds.  But  these  were  rumors  which  had  but 
little  interest  for  our  people.  Within  their  own  confederacy  they 
were  known  as  the  fence  around  the  bear  trap — they  kept  the  hostile 
tribes  of  the  south  at  bay  until  the  other  allies — the  Malicetes  and 
Micmacs — could  come  into  the  fight.  So  they  dismissed  the  story 
of  the  raiding  Mengwe — if  they  gave  it  thought  at  all — and  busied 
themselves  in  security  with  their  home  affairs. 

"  Besides,  winter  was  now  close  at  hand,  and  the  hunters  were 
making  ready  for  the  season's  work.  Some  would  take  their  fam- 
ilies with  them,  others  would  leave  them  behind,  the  unmarried 
men  would  hunt  and  trap  in  companies;  to  all  it  was  a  time  of 
hurry  and  preparation.  At  this  moment  when  the  thoughts  of 
the  tribe  were  so  fully  occupied,  came  in  runners,  breathless  with 
a  wonderful  tale  of  men  with  white  skins — white  as  the  frilling 
bark  of  the  birch,  who  had  come  in  great  canoes  like  council  houses 
and  met  the  Micmacs.  They  were  dressed  in  strange  garments,  and 
their  canoes  spouted  fire  and  thunder.  They  had  come  from  the 
sea  to  the  mouth  of  the  Ouigoudi  after  crossing  the  bay  of  waves, 
and  were  now  in  the  waters  of  the  Abenaki  building  an  encampment. 

"  This  alarming  news  spread  like  fire  in  dry  brush.  The  war- 
riors hastened  to  the  council  hall  to  learn  the  meaning  of  the  in- 
credible tale.  In  their  presence  the  runners  repeated  their  tidings 
of  the  wonderful  events  which  were  happening  down  by  the  sea 
in  the  ancient  seats  of  the  tribe.  The  assembly  listened  in  dumb 
surprise.  Was  this  tale  true?  Could  it  be  true?  Nadoga  ques- 
tioned the  messengers.  They  adhered  to  their  story,  and  added 
that  rumor  among  the  Malicetes  said  that  the  Micmacs  had  wel- 
comed the  newcomers  because  their  chief,  Membertou,  now  one 
hundred  winters  old,  had  met  such  white  men  in  his  youth,  and 
made  a  treaty  of  peace  with  them;  the  strangers  had  renewed  the 
pact,  and  given  the  Micmacs  presents  of  great  worth. 

"  The  disquieting  fact  remained,  nevertheless,  that  the  new- 
comers, however  peaceable  they  might  be  or  acceptable  to  the  Mic- 
macs, were  about  to  occupy  Abenaki  territory.  The  hot  blood 
of  the  tribe  grew  hotter  at  the  thought.  The  younger  warriors 
boldly  proclaimed  their  intention  to  return  in  a  body  and  dispossess 
the  ,invaders;  the  older  men  temporized  and  urged  the  need  of 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  519 

counsel  and  more  definite  knowledge.     All  turned  to  Nadoga,  priest 
of  Wahwouni,  who  had  suffered  this  injury  to  the  tribe. 

"  His  words  were  reassuring.  Had  not  their  guiding  spirit — 
who  never  failed  them  in  times  of  difficulty — had  he  not  sent  them 
to  their  present  hunting  ground  expressly  to  save  them  from  the 
stronger  spirit  of  these  strangers?  for  all  could  now  see  whom 
Wahwouni  meant.  Obediently  they  had  left  the  homes  of  their 
fathers  to  come  into  this  wilderness,  where  the  cry  of  the  sea 
reached  them  only  in  their  dreams.  Would  he  not  see  to  it  that 
these  strangers  should  not  prosper  in  Abenaki  territory?  Nadoga 
believed  he  would.  Wahwouni  had  not  lost  his  power  to  employ 
the  chills  of  winter  and  the  mischances  of  disease.  Leave  the 
matter  with  him.  In  any  case  winter  was  on;  when  spring  came 
they  would  know  better  what  to  do. 

"  This  wise  advice  prevailed.  The  tribe  scattered  to  their 
winter  vocations;  but  by  every  fireside  the  character  and  purposes 
of  the  strangers  afforded  constant  material  for  conjecture  and  dis- 
cussion to  the  exclusion  even  of  the  problem  of  their  return  to 
the  sea.  No  further  tidings  came  of  the  strangers;  ice  and  snow 
held  both  Frenchmen  and  Abenaki  each  in  his  own  place." 

I  nodded  assent  to  Peol's  last  statement.  It  agreed  fully 
with  the  records  of  that  dreadful  winter  which  the  inexperienced 
French  passed  on  the  Saint  Croix.  No  Indian  was  seen  by  them, 
until  in  early  spring  a  stray  Micmac  wandered  in  upon  them  in  time 
to  teach  them  the  virtues  of  an  infusion  of  spruce  as  a  remedy  for 
the  scurvy.  The  old  chief  ignored  my  gesture  of  approval — did  he 
not  know  every  tradition  of  his  tribe,  and  were  not  these  traditions 
true  ?  The  tone  of  his  narrative  now  changed,  however ;  it  had  been 
serious  as  became  such  serious  subjects. 

Did  I  remember  Guesca  of  the  birchbark  temper?  Guesca 
of  the  panther  fight?  sister  of  Malpooga?  the  Guesca  of  other 
tales?  Why,  surely  I  remembered  her;  how  could  the  memory  of 
that  Abenaki  maiden  ever  leave  me? 

"  The  thought  of  her  warms  me  here,"  said  the  old  man,  putting 
his  hand  to  his  heart ;  "  greatest  maid  or  woman  our  tribe  ever 
produced." 

And  then  I  understood  how  stupid  of  me  it  was  not  to  have 
known  that  she  lived  and  flourished  at  the  time  of  Peol's  story. 

"  She  was  a  girl  of  eighteen  or  nineteen  about  this  time,"  he 
continued,  "  and  knew  her  own  mind  in  many  things  which  young 
girls  are  uncertain  about.  Nature  evidently  had  set  her  apart  for 


520  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

great  things;  for  her  pleasures  were  not  in  love-making  like  other 
girls  of  her  age,  but  in  the  serious  concerns  of  life,  in  the  councils 
of  the  wise  men,  in  the  planning  of  good  hunting,  in  fearlessness  of 
danger.  Hers  was  the  blood  of  great  chiefs,  and  her  tribe  was 
dearer  to  her  than  life.  So  that  when  Wahwouni's  strange  oracle 
set  men's  minds  a-thinking,  their  thoughts  ran  at  once  to  her  as 
to  the  hope  of  the  tribe.  Nadoga's  ill-concealed  grief  gave  further 
direction  to  this  expectation.  One  thing  was  certain  always :  Given 
the  occasion,  Guesca  would  risk  and  lose  her  life  for  her  tribe. 

"  Guesca,  of  course,  heard  this  public  gossip,  and  lightly  ban- 
tered her  grandfather,  Nadoga,  because  neither  he  nor  Wahwouni 
was  in  a  hurry  to  provide  the  opportunity  she  wanted.  Nadoga 
always  looked  grave  when  she  rallied  him  about  the  prophecy,  and 
in  turn  he  reproached  her  that  she  had  no  lovers.  In  sober  fact, 
the  old  man  was  anxious  to  see  her  married — in  this  one  regard 
I  fear  he  allowed  his  personal  feelings  to  override  his  duty  towards 
the  decree  of  Wahwouni.  He  brought  in  eligible  suitors  on  every 
occasion  he  could  decently  use;  he  chided  her  mother  and  scolded 
herself  for  her  indifference ;  even  when  Guesca,  bored  by  this  persist- 
tency,  deliberately  refused  to  entertain  the  old  man's  suggestions  and 
dismissed  the  suitors  of  his  choice,  he  did  not  lose  heart.  Under  one 
pretense  or  another,  he  planned  a  trip  into  the  Huron  country,  and 
took  her  with  him,  hoping  that  some  young  chief  of  that  tribe  might 
catch  her  fancy.  But  she  returned  heart-whole  from  the  experi- 
ment, whereas  Nadoga's  plans  resulted  in  unforeseen  embarrass- 
ments to  himself  and  possible  danger  to  the  tribe.  For  the  Huron 
youths  were  so  taken  with  her  bearing  that  they  followed  her  back 
in  such  numbers,  and  were  so  insistent  in  their  purposes,  that  it 
required  all  Nadoga's  diplomacy  to  get  rid  of  them  without  exciting 
their  permanent  ill  will  towards  his  tribe.  As  to  Guesca,  she  dealt 
out  no  honied  words  or  half-truths  to  these  suitors — she  was  born 
by  the  sea  and  was  a  daughter  of  the  seashore;  she  would  marry 
no  man  whose  home  was  far  from  the  sound  of  its  waves.  In  this 
she  was  upheld  by  the  young  people  of  both  sexes  within  the  tribe. 
In  fact,  her  loyalty  to  her  old  home,  with  the  implication  of  a  cer- 
tain return  to  it,  warmed  all  hearts  towards  her.  Should  there  be 
a  break  with  the  Hurons,  they  would  gladly  defend  her  right  to 
choose  her  own  husband. 

"  Still  there  was  real  danger  of  a  misunderstanding  with  the 
Hurons  that  might  lead  to  war.  Need  I  say  that  some  of  our 
people,  misinterpreting  this  incident,  confidently  expected  that  out 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  521 

of  it  would  come  a  realization  of  the  prophecy?  Why  not  let  it  run 
into  war,  and  thus  perhaps  open  a  way  to  their  long-looked- for 
return?  Nadoga  was  honestly  embarrassed. 

"  Spring  was  now  well  on,  when  young  men  make  love,  and  the 
Hurons  were  sending  a  final  embassy  of  their  best  chiefs,  in  order  to 
make  a  last  effort  to  induce  the  recalcitrant  maid  to  marry  one  of 
their  bravest  warriors.  Nadoga  suddenly  disappeared,  and  with 
him  Guesca.  Word  was  given  out  that  he  had  gone  into  the  wilds 
to  consult  the  spirit  regarding  the  attitude  of  the  tribe  towards  the 
white  men  down  by  the  sea.  Guesca  had  accompanied  him  to  do  his 
cooking.  They  were  not  to  be  followed  on  any  pretext.  Mauwesta 
and  his  son,  Malpooga,  were  also  in  attendance,  but  only  for  the 
purpose  of  supplying  game  and  food.  No  trespass  on  the  mystic 
rites  which  Nadoga  was  performing  would  be  allowed.  Thus  did 
the  ancient  sorcerer  plan  relief  for  himself  and  for  Guesca  from 
the  importunities  of  the  Hurons — not  that  the  Abenaki  at  any 
time  feared  the  Hurons,  but  that  a  misunderstanding  at  the  time 
would  have  been  particularly  unfortunate,  seeing  that  our  tribe 
had  in  mind  the  greater  question  of  how  to  view  the  white  men. 
So  Nadoga  disappeared,  and  with,  him  his  granddaughter,  but  the 
maid  did  not  care  how  the  Huron  took  her  absence. 

"  Nadoga  carried  the  girl  with  him  to  Ouigoudi,  within  the 
sound  of  whose  turbulent  waters  he  would  perform  his  conjuration. 
In  his  absence  a  strong  faction  of  the  tribe  began  to  urge  a  mas- 
sacre of  the  forthcoming  embassy  of  Hurons.  Mauwesta  knew  that 
heart-hunger  for  their  old  hunting  grounds  inspired  such  treachery, 
and  so  he  forgave  it;  but  to  set  at  rest  all  such  conspiracies,  he 
counter-planned  and  organized  a  flying  column  of  warriors  with 
which  to  safeguard  his  daughter  and  his  father's  safety.  They 
bivouacked  near  the  river,  but  well  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of 
Nadoga.  Guesca  knew,  however,  for  Malpooga  could  keep  nothing 
from  her. 

'The  Ouigoudi,  even  in  our  day,  is  in  springtime  a  raging 
flood  of  unbridled  waters.  The  noise  of  its  rushing  waters  is  then 
the  hum  of  a  great  city.  On  its  bank  Nadoga  chose  to  erect  his  wig- 
wams and  set  up  his  divining  hut.  Thither  too  he  carried  Wah- 
wouni,  and  daily  cried  out  to  the  spirit,  but  without  avail.  Guesca 
fished  and  carried  on  the  household  duties,  with  now  and  then  a 
ramble  or  a  turn  in  her  canoe  along  the  shore  where  the  current  ran 
gently.  Malpooga  came  and  went,  carrying  game,  while  Mauwesta 
and  his  warriors  watched  in  patience.  In  the  night  they  drew 


522  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

closer  to  the  river,  and  lay,  a  line  of  sleeping  warriors,  under  the 
stars. 

"  In  the  bend  of  the  Ouigoudi,  where  the  river  turns  like 
my  elbow,  Nadago  had  set  up  his  encampment.  Below  him,  a  score 
of  miles  distance,  the  river  dropped  from  its  bed  to  lower  depths 
full  eighty  feet  beneath,  making  a  fall  so  great  that  to  be  caught  in 
its  grasp  meant  certain  death.  Giant  trees,  going  over  that  awful 
precipice,  were  twisted  and  broken,  the  rebound  on  the  rocky  bot- 
tom splintering  the  ends  of  them  like  brooms.  And  yet  the  roar 
of  that  infinite  rush  of  water  was  through  some  magic  of  the  hedg- 
ing chasms  subdued  and  modulated  to  a  deep  undertone,  over  which 
the  pitch  of  the  lighter  sounds  for  miles  above  and  below  the  falls 

raised  their  triumphant  clamor. 

*  *  *  * 

"Of  that  long  line  of  protecting  warriors  no  man  was  awake 
when  the  blow  fell.  Out  of  the  murk  of  the  night  they  came,  those 
terrible  Mengwe  warriors,  Mohawks  on  the  warpath.  Canoe  was 
bridged  to  canoe  four  abreast;  their  landing  was  as  silent  as  the 
padded  steps  of  a  panther.  In  a  moment  they  surrounded  both 
cabins.  Nadoga's  medicine  availed  him  nothing  in  this  his  last 
hour.  They  struck  him  in  his  sleep — had  they  scalped  him  the 
Abenaki  never  could  have  made  the  proud  boast,  as  they  did  in 
after  years,  that  no  scalp  lock  from  their  tribe  had  ever  graced  the 
wigwam  of  a  Mohawk.  Others  dragged  Guesca  from  her  slumbers 
into  the  open,  and  shook  her  rudely ;  had  they  not  needed  informa- 
tion and  a  guide,  her  fate  would  have  been  as  Nadoga's. 

"  Thus  roughly  awakened,  the  girl  could  not  at  first  realize 
that  she  was  in  the  hands  of  mortal  enemies.  She  mistook  them  for 
Hurons,  and  started  to  shake  herself  free;  such  wooing  was  not  to 
her  liking.  But  fierce  faces  flared  into  hers,  while  an  old  warrior, 
his  scalplock  hanging  to  his  shoulder,  addressed  her  in  a  strange 
tongue.  She  understood  him — she  afterwards  used  to  tell — much 
as  we  understand  the  speech  of  spirits  in  our  dreams — in  fact,  at 
first  she  took  it  all  for  a  malignant  dream. 

"  'Who  was  she  ?'  the  fierce  old  man  demanded.  'Where  was 
her  tribe?  Were  she  and  her  father  alone?'  Without  respite  of 
time  for  her  to  reply,  he  continued,  his  rough  painted  face  bearing 
down  almost  against  her  own,  'Did  she  know  the  river?  did  it  run 
unbroken  to  the  sea?  why  the  sound  on  the  night  like  the  mean 
of  dying  men?' 

"  These  questions  he  asked  her  in  a  voice  which  the  noise  of 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  523 

the  river  drowned  to  all  but  those  about  him.  When  she  answered 
him,  his  eyes  and  the  eyes  of  the  fierce  men  surrounding  her  bored 
into  hers  as  if  they  searched  the  inmost  secrets  of  her  heart. 
Helpless  she  looked  into  the  forbidding  faces,  and  then  to  the 
dark  line  of  canoes  still  filled  with  warriors.  The  billowy  under- 
tone of  the  distant  falls,  through  some  magic  of  the  night,  touched 
her  hearing.  Her  resolve  was  taken;  she  would  deceive  them,  and 
if  possible  lure  them  to  destruction  in  the  falls.  What  matter  it  if 
she  died  too  ?  Wahwouni  had  so  decreed  in  any  case. 

"  'My  tribe/  she  answered  in  faltering  tones  as  of  one  whom 
fear  holds  in  leash,  lives  a  day's  journey  down  the  river,  but  we 
have  disowned  them  because  they  were  unjust  to  my  father' — here 
she  made  a  motion  in  the  direction  of  the  other  hut.  They  nodded, 
as  if  they  approved  of  her  feelings.  'I  hate  them,'  she  continued 
with  a  bitterness  which  they  could  not  misunderstand.  'You  great 
warriors  will  revenge  my  father's  wrongs,  and  I  will  gladly  guide 
you.  The  river  runs  unbroken  to  the  sea  like  the  lines  on  my  hand. 
Fear  not  the  sounds  of  the  night:  the  river  revels  in  the  spring.' 

"  A  groan  from  Nadoga's  tent  sent  the  blood  to  her  heart. 
Had  they  killed  the  old  man?  All  the  hot  temper  within  her  rose 
at  the  thought.  She  was  on  the  point  of  denouncing  them  to  their 
faces,  when  at  a  sign  from  the  old  warrior  she  was  carried  bodily 
to  the  canoes.  They  placed  her  in  the  hindmost  of  the  line,  in  what 
her  eyes  taught  her  was  the  guiding  influence  of  the  whole  fleet. 
Silently,  like  a  great  serpent,  the  flotilla  nosed  its  way  into  the  river. 

"  Guesca  looked  back  at  the  receding  shore  with  sorrow,  that 
Nadoga  should  die  without  a  word  of  comfort  from  her.  In  the 
half-light  she  was  startled  to  see  him  on  his  knees  leaning  heavily 
against  the  framework  of  his  cabin,  trying  hard  to  steady  himself. 
She  could  see  his  eyes  settle  on  her,  and  then  he  threw  himself 
face  forward  on  the  ground,  while  from  his  throat  issued  the 
dying  war  cry  of  the  Abenaki.  There  was  not  one  of  her  father's 
warriors  whom  that  cry  would  not  reach. 

"  This  was  indeed  true.  At  the  sound,  every  Abenaki  was  on 
his  feet,  alive  to  the  alarm.  Malpooga  headed  the  rush  for  the 
river  bank,  and,  heedless  of  ambush,  was  the  first  to  the  dying 
Nadoga.  The  others  scattered  at  the  command  of  Mauwesta  to 
search  for  signs  of  the  invaders.  It  did  not  take  them  long  to 
learn  that  a  large  party  had  passed  in  canoes,  carrying  Guesca 
off  a  captive,  and  giving  Nadoga  his  deathblow.  He  was  still 
alive,  but  in  the  last  throes.  Mauwesta  bent  over  him  and  caught 


524 


WAHWOUNI 


[July, 


his  dying  words,  'Mengwe,  Mengwe! the  falls!'  With  that 

he  was  dead. 

"  Knowing  his  daughter's  spirit,  Mauwesta  guessed  her  pur- 
pose at  once.  'We  will  find  the  enemy,'  he  said  in  a  few  words, 
'at  the  leaning  pine,  or  at  the  bottom  of  the  falls.  Hasten  by  the 
shortest  road,  move  slowly  on  the  river  when  you  get  there.  I  will 
seek  my  daughter  on  the  water.' 

"  Malpooga,  though  as  yet  only  a  stripling,  anticipated  his 
father's  intention,  and  now  appeared  with  Guesca's  canoe.  His 
father  motioned  to  him  to  disembark.  '  This  is  a  man's  job,  my 
son,'  he  said.  This  canoe  must  go  to  the  edge  of  the  falls  or  over 
to  save  your  sister.  Your  tribe  will  need  you,  for  I  may  not  come 
back.'  Malpooga  begged  so  hard  to  be  allowed  to  share  his  father's 
risk  that  he  was  suffered  to  remain.  One  volunteer  was  needed 
for  the  dangerous  trip,  a  man  of  stout  arm  and  strong  heart 
to  wield  the  bow  paddle;  from  the  many  who  offered  Mauwesta 
chose  a  close  friend  of  his  own. 

"  And  thus  the  three  bodies  moved  onward  in  the  night :  the 
Mengwe  ahead  drifting  unconsciously  to  their  fate,  guided  by  the 
noiseless  paddle  of  a  stern-faced  girl;  behind  them  in  the  distance, 
covered  by  the  darkness,  a  swift  canoe  followed,  using  every  ad- 
vantage of  current  to  overtake  them;  while  along  the  beaten  trail 
which  led  to  the  falls  coursed  a  band  of  Abenaki  warriors  in  pur- 
suit. Theirs  was  the  shorter  route,  for  the  river  doubled  on  itself 
in  places. 

"  Guesca  sat  in  the  hindmost  canoe.  It  had  been  cunningly 
inset  into  the  line  ahead,  so  that  while  it  projected  out  behind  suf- 
ficiently to  give  the  steersman  full  scope  for  the  play  of  his  paddle, 
it  was  still  tightly  and  strongly  bound  to  the  others.  To  give  it 
greater  guiding  force,  it  was  perhaps  more  heavily  weighted  than 
any  of  the  others.  Guesca  counted  six  sleeping  warriors  at  her  feet. 

"  The  Mengwe,  trusting  in  their  numbers,  and  vainglorious 
as  they  ever  were,  took  few  precautions  against  surprise.  Guesca 
gathered  from  their  conversation  that  they  ran  the  river  during 
the  night  only,  lying  hidden  in  daytime.  She  noted  with  satis- 
faction that  from  the  outset  they  trusted  to  her  guidance,  deliber- 
ately composing  themselves  to  sleep  as  best  they  might  in  their 
cramped  and  narrow  quarters.  The  murmur  of  voices  gradually 
fell  off  as  time  went  by;  the  fiery  old  chief  who  at  first  had  kept 
a  vigilant  eye  on  her,  himself  relaxed  his  watch  and  was  now  in 
deep  sleep. 


1913.]  WAHWOUNI  525 

"  This  was  well,  for  the  undertone  of  the  approaching  falls 
could  now  be  distinctly  heard.  Should  any  alert  ear  be  listening, 
it  must  surely  recognize  that  crooning  sound.  Guesca  prayed  to 
Wahwouni  and  to  the  spirits  of  the  river  to  keep  all  ears  closed. 
She  realized  that  she  was  going  to  her  death — death  if  the  Mengwe 
awoke  and  discovered  their  peril  in  time;  death  in  the  falls  if 
fate  held  them  asleep.  That  her  father  was  following  fast  to  her 
rescue,  she  never  doubted.  Ever  and  anon  she  looked  steadily 
into  the  darkness  behind  her  for  some  sign  of  his  approach.  She 
watched  too  the  right  hand  bankior  the  great  pine  which,  projecting 
out  as  if  it  would  fall  into  the  river,  marked  the  limit  of  safety. 
Beyond  it  no  canoe  dare  venture  and  hope  to  escape  the  irresistible 
suction  of  the  falls.  Canoes  travel  faster  at  night  than  in  the  day — 
to  Guesca  the  river  banks  seemed  to  fly  past  her. 

"  Still  the  Mengwe  slept.  Slowly  on  the  right  shore  something- 
dark  loomed  up;  it  took  shape  at  last,  so  that 'she  had  no  doubt  it 
was  the  pine.  Her  time  for  action  had  come;  these  canoes  bound 
together  into  one  inseparable  line,  would  move  as  one  great  bark  to 
destruction.  Bravely  she  held  her  place  while  the  fatal  pine  grew 
momentarily  more  distinct;  she  would  jump  into  the  river  only  at 
the  last  moment.  Now  she  felt  the  rocking  and  straining  of  the 
boats  ahead ;  it  passed  like  a  tremor  from  bow  to  stern.  She  slipped 
her  foot  over  the  side  to  make  the  plunge — and  there  nosing 
itself  at  her  elbow  rode  a  silent  bark  with  three  figures  in  it. 
She  drew  the  bow  towards  her,  and  noiselessly  stepped  into  Mal- 
pooga's  arms.  Then,  despite  the  common  danger,  flushed  with  the 
fires  of  resentment  and  victory,  she  stood  up,  and  with  all  the  power 
of  her  lungs  gave  forth  the  war  cry  of  the  Abenaki. 

"  The  yell  which  went  forth  from  the  doomed  flotilla  was 
never  forgotten  by  those  who  heard  it.  The  rocking  and  swaying 
mass  rushed  onward,  a  hundred  hasty  paddles  could  not  arrest  its 
momentum.  The  rolling  river  bore  it  to  destruction  amid  the  cries 
of  the  Mengwe.  The  forward  line  of  canoes  perched  a  moment 
outwards  above  the  awful  chasm,  and  then  took  the  inevitable 
leap  to  death;  above  the  thunder  of  the  cataract  and  the  crashing 
of  boats  rang  the  despairing  death  yell  of  the  Mohawks. 

"  A  line  of  exultant  but  awe-struck  Abenaki  warriors  stood 
on  the  right  shore,  and  heard  and  sensed  the  dreadful  fate  of  their 
enemies.  Mauwesta  had  timed  his  approach,  so  that  the  rescue  of 
Guesca  might  be  effected  at  the  critical  moment.  Swiftly  now  the 
two  strong  paddles  forced  their  canoe  backward  beyond  the  danger 


526  WAHWOUNI  [July, 

line;  it  was  soon  in  safety  near  the  shore.  Ready  arms  were  there 
to  draw  it  into  security,  and  Guesca  stepped  ashore  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  pine,  having  performed  a  feat  which  shall  ever 
live  in  the  memories  of  the  Abenaki. 

"  In  the  morning  when  the  mists  had  cleared  away  from  the 
fatal  basin  of  the  falls,  our  men  drew  ashore,  and  scalped  at  their 
leisure  one  hundred  and  fifty  dead  Mohawks.  No  warrior  claimed 
a  single  scalp ;  they  called  them  Guesca's.  Clinging  to  the  battered 
remains  of  a  canoe,  a  string  of  thirty  scalps  was  found;  Huron 
scalps  they  were;  and  then  our  tribe  knew  what  had  been  the 
fate  of  the  embassy  which  had  been  on  its  way  to  ask  the  hand  of 
Guesca.  They  sent  the  scalps  back  with  many  words  of  sympathy  ; 
and  from  that  day  onward  the  Hurons  and  the  Abenaki  have 
been  friends. 

"  Among  the  Mohawks  to  this  day  the  tradition  prevails  of  a 
great  war  party  which  went  from  them  and  down  into  the  land  of 
the  Micmacs  and  never  returned,  being  swallowed  alive  by  the 
a\vful  demons  which  inhabit  those  waters.  But  our  people  knew 
better,  for  they  were  in  at  the  death. 

"  It  was  thus  that  a  maiden  brought  many  scalps  to  our  hands 
in  the  clden  days,  and  saved  the  Malicetes,  our  allies,  from  in- 
vasion. In  all  this  she  fulfilled  the  prophecy  of  Wahwouni,  and 
opened  the  way  with  honor  for  the  return  of  the  tribe  to  its  old 
home.  What  they  thought  of  her,  and  how  they  greeted  her,  and 
after  due  decorum  and  sorrow  had  been  shown  to  the  dead  Nadoga, 
what  a  feast  they  gave  in  her  honor,  when  all  the  people  had 
gathered  together  for  the  return  to  the  sea — all  this  I  will  not  stop 
to  tell  you. 

"  Strange  it  was  that  Nadoga  should  himself  be  the  victim, 
when  he  had  so  sorrowfully  looked  forward  to  Guesca's  dying  for 
the  tribe.  Stranger  still,  that  on  the  return  to  the  seashore  the 
white  men  were  found  to  have  vacated  Abenaki  terriory  and  moved 
over  among  the  Micmacs.  Wahwouni  had  killed  some  by  frost  and 
others  by  disease,  as  old  Nadoga  had  promised. 

"  So  that,  you  see,"  Peol  concluded,  "  that  stone  we  left  on 
the  other  shore  was  great  medicine  in  the  olden  times,  and  very 
dangerous  to  meddle  with.  Dangerous  now  "  (we  will  let  Peol  end 
in  his  own  speech),  "  for  no  man  can  tell  whether  the  demon  not 
still  in  him.  I  am  of  the  blood  and  race  of  Nadoga  and  Guesca; 
that  stone  know  me  at  once." 

My  watch  showed  midnight  when  Peol  ended  his  tale.     That 


1913-]  WAHWOUNI  527 

there  were  coincidences  in  it  which  were  difficult  to  explain,  I 
could  not  deny  when  I  came  to  think  it  over.  It  was,  therefore, 
with  some  gingerly  respect  that  I  laid  Wahwouni  away  for  the 
night  in  a  corner  of  my  tent.  And  still  I  queried  what  malfeasance 
it  might  work  on  Peol  before  morning. 

Upon  myself,  however,  Wahwouni's  wrath  was  destined  to 
fall.  All  night  my  slumbers  were  broken  by  the  most  distressing 
dreams,  a  veritable  nightmare  of  malignant  fancies.  Now  I  was 
one  of  the  doomed  Mohawks  slipping  over  the  falls.  I  could  hear 
my  own  groans;  again  I  was  Nadoga,  scalped  and  suffering;  while 
all  through  the  night  in  a  sort  of  waking  consciousness,  I  was 
aware  that  near  by,  indistinct  but  bulky,  stood  a  malignant  figure 
seeking  ever  to  injure  me.  It  was  a  relief  when  morning  came,  and 
with  it  Peol  and  his  morning  coffee.  His  eyes  showed  that  he,  too, 
had  passed  a  sleepless  night.  Had  I  heard  the  tramping  and  ram- 
paging of  a  bull  moose  around  the  tents  during  the  night?  It  had 
been  so  persistent  as  to  keep  him  from  sleep;  he  had  risen  to  in- 
vestigate, but  could  see  nothing;  stranger  still,  he  found  no  traces 
of  the  animal  now  that  morning  had  come.  But  he  had  found  that 
my  canoe  had  broken  adrift  during  the  night,  and  now  lay  with 
a  hole  in  her  bow  from  pounding  on  the  rocks. 

To  the  sinister  Wahwouni  I  traced,  of  course,  my  evil  dreams, 
Peol's  disturbances,  and  the  injury  to  my  canoe — he  was  surely  a 
malicious  spirit.  So,  while  the  Indian  was  absent  fishing,  I  carried 
the  pyramidal  stone  to  a  woody  recess,  congenial  by  its  darkness, 
and  there  in  the  bowels  of  a  hollow  pine,  in  which  some  wild 
beast  made  its  winter  lair,  I  left  it.  Should  any  of  my  readers  by 
chance  or  of  purpose  come  across  this  curious  reminder  of  the 
ancient  worship  of  the  Abenaki,  I  pray  him  to  beware  of  the  malev- 
olence which  is  contained  in  that  demon  stone. 


IRew  Boohs. 

LUTHER.     By  Hartmann  Grisar,   SJ.     Authorized  Translation 
from  the  German  by  E.  M.  Lamond.     Edited  by  Luigi  Cap- 
padelta.     Vol.  I.     St.  Louis:    B.  Herder.     $3.25  net. 
Father  Grisar  tells  us  in  his  preface  that  he  intends  "  to  give 
an  exact  historical  and  psychological  picture  of  Luther's  person- 
ality, which  still  remains  an  enigma  from  so  many  points  of  view 

to  place  his  interior  life,  his  spiritual  development,  and  his 

psychic  history  well  in  the  foreground."  He  has  endeavored 
throughout  to  make  his  picture  as  lifelike  as  possible  by  quoting 
on  nearly  every  page  Luther's  very  words.  Some  may  object, 
he  tells  us,  to  this  continual  quoting,  but  it  gives  Luther  the  fullest 
opportunity  of  defending  or  accusing  himself,  especially  in  matters 
which  have  been  diversely  interpreted,  and  on  which  he  was  some- 
what uncertain  himself.  There  is  no  danger  of  the  reader's  being 
bored  thereby,  for  the  reformer's  originality  of  expression,  and  his 
vivid,  drastic,  and  often  coarse  style  retains  one's  interest  through- 
out. As  this  book  is  intended  for  scholars  and  not  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  the  young,  Luther's  words  are  given,  unvarnished  and  un- 
expurgated,  just  as  they  appear  in  his  printed  pamphlets,  his 
confidential  letters,  and  his  chats  with  friends  and  table  com- 
panions. 

Father  Grisar  makes  a  special  point  of  refuting  the  many 
extraordinary  Luther  legends  which  have  sprung  up  in  the  course 
of  controversy,  and  appear  both  in  the  panegyrics  of  his  friends 
and  in  the  bitter  attacks  of  his  uncritical  Catholic  opponents. 

The  book  is  objective  throughout.  Father  Grisar  asks  the 
question :  "  Is  it  really  possible  for  a  Catholic  to  depict  Luther 
as  he  really  was,  without  offending  Protestant  feelings  in  any  way?" 
Without  any  exaggerated  optimism,  he  answers,  "  I  believe  it  to  be 
quite  possible,  because  honesty  and  historical  justice  must  always 
be  able  to  find  a  place  somewhere  under  the  sun  and  wherever 
light  can  be  thrown,  even  in  delicate  historical  questions."  He 
expressly  disclaims  any  idea  of  polemics,  for  he  is  writing  not  a 
Catholic  estimate  of  the  Protestant  Reformation,  but  an  impartial 
life  of  Luther.  While  he  never  forgets  that  he  is  a  Catholic,  he 
hopes  that  his  personal  convictions  have  never  led  him  to  misrepre- 
sen£  other  people's  doctrines,  to  commit  an  injustice,  or  even  to 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  529 

pass  an  unkind  judgment.  He  asks  the  reader  simply  to  see  for 
himself  whether  every  assertion  made  is,  or  is  not,  proved  by  the 
facts  or  by  witnesses. 

The  English  translation  is  to  appear  in  six  volumes.  The 
first  volume  treats  of  Luther  up  to  the  year  1519.  In  the  first 
five  chapters,  Father  Grisar  discusses  Luther's  early  life  and  his 
novitiate  in  the  Erfurt  Priory ;  his  studies  and  lectures  at  Erfurt  and 
Wittenberg;  the  evil  effects  of  his  Roman  visit;  the  positive  and 
negative  influence  of  Occamism  upon  his  theological  views;  his  ig- 
norance of  the  best  scholastics ;  his  misinterpretation  of  Tauler  and 
the  German  mystics,  and  the  first  shaping  of  his  heretical  views, 
viz.,  the  imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness;  denial  of  all  human 
freedom  for  good;  the  sinful  character  of  natural  virtue;  the 
denial  of  merit;  the  persistence  of  original  sin  after  baptism, 
and  the  identification  of  concupiscence  with  sin,  etc.,  etc. 

Father  Grisar  denies  that  Luther's  new  and  heretical  teaching 
was  due  to  the  direct  influence  of  Humanists  like  Hutten,  Crotus, 
and  Mutian.  On  the  contrary,  full  as  he  was  of  his  one-sided 
supra-naturalism,  he  was  forced  to  disapprove*  utterly  of  the  Hu- 
manist ideal.  Again,  it  is  false  to  maintain  that  Luther's  struggle 
against  the  old  Church  originated  in  his  attack  on  indulgences, 
in  his  desire  to  reform  the  Church,  or  in  the  rivalry  between  his 
own  order  and  the  Dominicans.  On  the  contrary :  First,  the  ques- 
tion of  indulgences  was  raised  only  subsequent  to  Luther's  first 
great  departure  from  the  Church's  doctrine;  second,  he  was  far 
more  preoccupied  in  the  beginning  with  the  question  of  the  theology 
of  St.  Paul  and  of  St.  Augustine  than  with  the  abuses  of  the 
Church,  and,  third,  his  erroneous  teaching  appeared  prior  to  his 
controversy  with  Tetzel,  and  before  he  had  even  thought  of  the 
Dominicans,  Prierias  and  Cardinal  Cajetan.  Jealousy  against  his 
adversaries,  the  Dominicans,  afterwards  added  fuel  to  the  flames, 
but  it  was  not  the  starting  point. 

The  real  origin  of  Luther's  teaching  must  be  sought  in  the 
fundamental  principle  which  governed  him,  which  was  fostered 
by  the  decline  in  his  life  as  a  religious  and  a  priest,  and  more 
particularly  by  his  inordinate  love  of  his  own  opinions,  and  by 
the  uncharitable  criticisms  he  passed,  upon  others.  This  was  his 
unfavorable  estimate  of  good  works,  and  of  every  effort,  na- 
tural or  supernatural,  on  the  part  of  man.  He  made  his  own 
the  deadly  error  that  man  by  his  natural  powers  is  unable  to  do 
anything  but  sin.  To  this  he  added  that  the  man  who,  by 
VOL.  xcvu. — 34 


530  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

God's  grace,  is  raised  to  justification  through  divinely-infused 
faith  and  trust  must,  it  is  true,  perform  good  works,  but  that 
the  latter  are  not  to  be  accounted  meritorious.  All  works  avail 
nothing  as  means  for  arriving  at  righteousness  and  eternal  sal- 
vation ;  faith  alone  effects  both. 

Father  Grisar  gives  a  number  of  reasons  to  account  for  Lu- 
ther's becoming  a  heretic,  "  without  perhaps  at  -first  being  aware 
of  it."  Among  them  are  the  following :  his  meagre  and  superficial 
theological  studies,  which  left  him  utterly  unacquainted  with  the 
golden  age  of  scholasticism;  his  faulty  training  in  the  decadent, 
nominalistic  school  of  Occam;  his  growing  antipathy  to  so-called 
holiness  by'  works ;  his  obstinacy  and  egotism,  which  made  him 
credit  St.  Paul,  St.  Augustine,  and  the  writers  of  Holy  Writ  with 
his  own  peculiar  views;  his  false  mysticism  which  made  him 
travesty  Tauler  and  St.  Bernard,  and  clothe  his  new  ideas  in  the 
deceptive  dress  of  piety;  his  own  morbid  personal  condition,  which 
made  him  doubt  about  his  own  election,  and  fear  that  he  was  pre- 
destined to  hell,  and,  lastly,  his  spiritual  pride,  which,  as  Denifle  says, 
"  made  him  despair  of  himself  and  despair  of  God's  grace,  which 
assists  us  to  keep  the  law  of  God,  that  our  concupiscence  resists." 

Chapters  VI. -X.  give  a  good  account  of  Luther's  heretical 
views  as  set  forth  in  his  Commentary  on  Romans  (1515-1516)  and 
on  Galatians  (1516-1517)  ;  of  his  life  as  Superior  of  eleven  Augus- 
tinian  houses ;  of  his  indulgence  theses,  and  of  his  final  "  dis- 
covery "  in  the  monastery  tower  of  salvation  by  faith  alone,  and 
the  absolute  assurance  of  one's  state  of  grace. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  chapters  in  the  whole  volume  is 
the  ninth,  which  deals  with  Tetzel  and  the  indulgence  granted  by 
Leo  X.  for  the  building  of  St.  Peter's.  Our  author  is  outspoken 
in  his  condemnation  of  the  unworthy  bargaining  whereby  Albert  of 
Brandenburg,  Archbishop  and  Elector  of  Mayence,  managed  to 
secure  for  his  diocese  one-half  of  the  total  proceeds  of  the  indul- 
gence fund,  in  order  to  repay  his  indebtedness  to  his  bankers,  the 
Fuggers  of  Augsburg.  He  says: 

We  cannot  here  refrain  from  drawing  attention  to  a  fact 
which  stands  for  all  time  as  a  solemn  warning  to  the  pastors 

of  the  Church It  was  a  transaction  which  certainly  was 

unworthy  of  so  sacred  a  cause  as  that  of  an  indulgence,  and 

which  can  only  be  explained  by  the  evil  customs  of  that  day, 

the  pressure  applied  by  Albert's  agents,  and  the  influence  of 

%     the  avaricious  Florentine  party  at  the  Papal  Court It  sup- 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  531 

plied  Luther  with  welcome  matter  for  his  charges,  and  with  a 
deceitful  pretext  for  the  seducing  of  countless  souls. 

Of  Tetzel,  Father  Grisar  writes  that,  although  he  did  not 
exactly  shine  as  an  example  of  virtue,  the  charges  of  immorality 
against  him  are  as  baseless  as  the  reproach  of  gross  ignorance. 
He  was  in  no  sense  a  great  theologian,  and  as  a  popular  preacher 
was  forward,  audacious,  given  to  exaggeration,  and  noted  for 
expressions  that  were  strange  and  ill-considered.  Luther's  accusa- 
tions against  him  of  having  sold  forgiveness  of  sins  for  money 
without  requiring  contrition,  and  of  having  even  been  ready  to 
absolve  from  future  sins  for  a  price,  are  utterly  false  and  unjust, 
as  the  Protestant  Paulus  has  very  well  shown.  Even  Carlstadt, 
after  he  had  left  the  Church,  admitted  that  Tetzel's  indulgence 
sermons  were  Catholic  in  tone.  Tetzel  surely  knew  what  an  indul- 
gence was,  for  he  writes  in  his  Vorlegung:  "  The  Indulgence  remits 
only  the  penalty  of  sins  which  have  been  repented  of  and  confessed." 

"No  one  merits  an  indulgence  unless  he  is  in  a  truly  contrite 

state." 

Yet  we  must  admit  on  the  testimony  of  his  own  confreres  of 
the  time  that  he  brought  the  pecuniary  side  of  the  indulgence  too 
much  in  the  foreground,  and  advocated  in  his  sermons  an  opinion 
held  by  some  scholastics,  that  an  indulgence  gained  for  the  dead 
was  at  once  infallibly  applied  to  the  soul  for  whom  it  was  destined. 
Luther,  however,  was  altogether  wrong  in  declaring  this  opinion 
a  teaching  of  the  Church  or  of  the  Popes.  Tetzel  also  taught 
the  erroneous  proposition  that  a  plenary  indulgence  for  the  dead 
could  be  obtained  without  contrition  and  penance  on  the  part  of 
the  living,  simply  by  means  of  a  money  payment.  But  to  consider 
Tetzel,  as  many  do,  the  cause  of  the  whole  Reformation  movement 
which  began  in  1517,  is  fanciful  in  the  extreme.  "Notwithstand- 
ing the  efforts  which  Luther  made  to  represent  the  matter  in  this 
light,  it  has  been  clearly  proved  that  his  own  spiritual  development 
was  the  cause,  or  at  least  the  principal  cause." 

We  are  certain  that  this  book  will  remain  for  all  time  the 
standard  life  of  Luther.  While  utilizing  in  innumerable  passages 
the  scholarly  researches  of  his  great  predecessor  Benin1  e,  Father 
Grisar  now  and  then  differs  from  his  conclusions,  and  on  the  whole 
is  more  inclined  to  give  Luther  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  in  con- 
troverted questions.  The  volume  before  us  is  very  well  translated. 
We  trust  that  the  many  errata  will  disappear  in  the  second  edition. 


532  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  POPES,  FROM  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE 

MIDDLE  AGES.     From  the  German  of  Dr.  Ludwig  Pastor. 

Edited  by  Ralph  Francis  Kerr,  of  the  London  Oratory.     Vols. 

XL  and  XII.     St.  Louis:    B.  Herder.     $3.00  net. 

The  latest  volumes,  eleven  and  twelve,  in  Pastor's  Plistory 
of  the  Popes  covers  the  period  1534-1549.  If  one  will  even  hur- 
riedly recall  the  many  events,  of  supreme  importance  to  the  Church, 
that  were  crowded  into  these  fifteen  years,  it  will  not  seem  surprising 
that  Dr.  Pastor  devotes  two  volumes,  almost  twelve  hundred  pages, 
to  the  history  of  that  brief  space  of  time.  The  spread  of  Prot- 
estantism in  almost  every  country  of  Europe;  the  rise  and  growth 
of  the  Jesuit  order;  the  Catholic  reformation,  culminating  in  the 
Council  of  Trent ;  the  crusade  against  the  Turks ;  the  politico-relig- 
ious activities  of  Charles  V.,  Francis  L,  and  Henry  VIII.,  must 
all  be  told  in  such  a  work  as  that  in  hand.  Furthermore,  Dr. 
Pastor  invariably — and  very  wisely — gives  space  for  a  rather 
thorough  treatment  of  matters  beyond  the  bare  narrative  of  events. 
Indeed  he  is  writing  a  history  of  the  times,  as  well  as  a  history  of 
the  Popes;  and  his  occasional  descriptions  of  human  life,  of  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  period,  are  not  the  least  important,  and 
perhaps  the  most  illuminating  and  interesting  feature  of  the  work. 
We  dare  say,  therefore,  that  the  author's  principal  difficulty,  es- 
pecially in  view  of  the  amazing  extent  of  his  reading  amongst 
books  and  manuscripts,  has  been  to  condense  the  story  of  fifteen 
years  into  two  volumes,  and  to  make  the  fourteen  volumes,  as  origi- 
nally planned,  suffice  for  the  most-crowded  and  perhaps  most-impor- 
tant and  critical  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  in  all  the  history  of 
the  Church. 

At  this  distance  from  the  early  years  of  the  Protestant  ref- 
ormation, it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  the  leaders  of  the  Church 
could  have  acted  so  supinely,  when  face  to  face  with  such  a  calamit- 
ous schism.  What  seems  to  us  so  obvious,  was,  apparently,  to 
be  learned  by  them  only  by  means  of  repeated  and  accumulated  dis- 
asters. Up  to  the  time  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  the  moral  and 
disciplinary  abuses  in  the  ecclesiastical  world,  while  somewhat  less 
than  in  the  days  of  the  Renaissance,  were  yet  serious  enough  to  give 
an  apparent  justification  to  the  Protestant  claim  for  change.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  was  still  a  powerful 
influence.  And,  as  Pastor  says,  "  the  new  ecclesiastical  tendencies 
were  met  by  a  vigorous  opposition.  Paul  III.  was  himself  the 
incarnate  spirit  of  the  times.  His  life,  previous  to  his  elevation 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  533 

to  the  supreme  power,  had  been  far  from  exemplary.  As  Pope 
he  seems  to  have  undergone  a  moral  revolution;  but  the  mental 
revolution  so  necessary  for  him  came  about  but  slowly.  He  awak- 
ened but  gradually  to  a  full  realization  of  the  seriousness  of  what 
was  being  done  before  his  eyes,  and  he  was  always  inclined  to 
permit,  in  his  court,  a  spirit  of  gayety  quite  out  of  keeping  with  the 
lamentable  condition  of  the  Church  in  general.  It  is  surprising,  for 
example,  if  not  shocking,  to  read  that  he  encouraged  the  renewal 
of  the  carnival  in  1536,  1538,  1541,  and  1545,  the  very  years  when 
the  schism  in  Germany  and  in  England  was  attaining  its  complete 
strength.  There  was  martyrdom  in  England  and  merrymaking  in 
Rome  at  the  same  time.  Again,  Vergeno,  the  nuncio  at  Vienna, 
was  compelled  to  labor  hard  to  convince  the  Pope  that  conditions 
in  Bavaria,  and  throughout  Germany,  were  terribly  sad.  Paul  III. 
did,  indeed,  come  to  a  realization  of  that  fact,  but  the  wonder  is 
that  he  had  not  learned  it  earlier.  He  was  the  closest  man  to 
the  papal  throne  in  several  pontificates  previous  to  his  own;  yet 
he  seems  to  have  awakened  to  an  understanding  of  the  hopeless 
condition  in  Germany  only  after  his  own  reign  was  pretty  well 
under  way.  The  state  of  affairs  in  England  he  appreciated  rightly 
only  after  Henry  VIII.  had  given  evidence  again  and  again  that  he 
was  in  deadly  earnest  in  his  opposition  to  Rome. 

Of  course  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  Pope  was  unfortunate 
in  being  obliged  to  deal  with  three  such  slippery  knaves  as  Henry 
VIIL,  Charles  V.,  and  Francis  I. ;  and  he  was,  besides,  too  near 
the  events  to  realize  their  meaning,  but  when  all  allowance  has 
been  made,  it  remains  a  melancholy  fact  that  neither  the  Pope 
nor  the  Roman  court  seems  to  have  understood  fully  that  they 
were  witnesses  to  a  tremendous  religious  cataclysm. 

Finally,  the  awakening  came.  The  Catholic  reform  was  under- 
taken. The  two  chief  elements  in  that  true  reformation  were 
the  Council  of  Trent  and  the  Jesuit  order.  The  story  of  the 
attempts  to  convene  the  Council  is  painful  reading.  The  story  of 
the  rise  and  growth  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  is  thrilling,  and  alto- 
gether the  most  encouraging  phenomenon  in  all  that  period.  There 
is  more  immediate  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God 
in  the  undoubtedly  supernatural  success  of  St.  Ignatius  and  his 
companions  than  in  all  the  plans  of  the  ecclesiastics  for  an  im- 
possible reconciliation  with  Protestants.  Pastor  says  of  Le  Jay,  the 
companion  of  Peter  Faber,  "  he  looked  for  salvation  much  more  in  a 
reformation  of  morals  than  in  the  contests  of  theologians."  And 


534  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

it  is  to  the  eternal  honor  of  the  Jesuits  that  they  led  the  Church 
in  effecting  that  reformation  of  morals.  They  lived  and  taught 
the  reformation  that  was  later  demanded  at  Trent. 

And  there  is  the  truly  inspiriting  fact  that  is  evident  in  the 
history  of  that  melancholy  generation — God  never  abandons  His 
people ;  He  is  ever  with  His  Church.  Ideals  are  never  lost.  Ideal- 
ists, nay  saints,  will  always  respond  to  the  call  of  the  Church,  even 
in  times  of  greatest  calamity.  Companions  to  Ignatius  seem  to 
have  sprung  from  the  ground  like  the  fighters  of  Roderick  Dhu. 
The  Jesuits  gave  the  impulse.  A  score  of  other  orders  and  societies 
leaped  from  the  earth.  The  Church  took  courage.  The  true  ref- 
ormation began,  and  as  soon  as  it  grew  to  maturity,  Protestant- 
ism stopped  still  in  its  tracks. 

All  this,  and  more,  is  evident  to  the  reader  of  these  two 
volumes.  The  story  is  told  with  all  the  well-known  skill  of  that 
master-historian,  Pastor.  Of  course,  these  volumes,  with  the  rest 
of  the  work,  are  indispensable  for  students,  and  for  all  who  would 
know  Church  History. 

WINDS  OF  DOCTRINE.  Studies  in  Contemporary  Opinion.  By 
G.  Santayana,  late  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Harvard  Uni- 
versity. New  York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  $1.75  net. 
However  strongly  one  may  differ  from  Mr.  Santayana's  view 
of  life,  it  is  always  a  pleasure  to  read  what  he  has  written.  In  liter- 
ary quality  and  mental  distinction,  there  are  few  to  equal  him,  as 
those  who  have  read  his  Sense  of  Beauty,  his  Poetry  and  Religion, 
and  his  Three  Philosophical  Poets,  not  to  mention  the  Life  of  Rea- 
son, already  know.  But  this  new  book  of  his  should  attract  the  at- 
tention of  thinking  Catholics,  for  in  a  manner  especially  detached 
and  impartial  he  reviews  the  various  phases  of  religious  and  philo- 
sophical opinion  just  now  popular  in  the  English-speaking  world. 
Standing  high  above  the  swirl  of  conventional  thought,  an  intel- 
lectual ascetic  with  no  personal  or  practical  interests,  he  is  content 
to  observe  and  analyze  it  as  an  expression  and  revelation  of  modern 
life.  "  Our  whole  life  and  mind,"  he  cries,  "  is  saturated  with 
the  slow  upward  filtration  of  a  new  spirit — that  of  an  emancipated, 
atheistic,  international  democracy.  These  epithets,"  he  tells  us, 
"  may  make  us  shudder ;  but  what  they  describe  is  something  posi- 
tive and  self-justified,  something  deeply  rooted  in  our  animal  nature 
which,  like  every  vital  impulse,  is  pregnant  with  a  morality  of  its 
own."  Such  a  challenging  accusation  is  typical  of  many  more,  and 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  535 

there  is  enough  truth  in  it  to  make  us  qualify  it  with  searching 
thoughts  of  our  own.  Or  take  his  very  acute  analysis  of  the 
mental  instability  so  characteristic  of  all  who  are  without  some 
positive  religious  conviction. 

Moral  confusion  is  not  limited  to  the  world  at  large,  always 
the  scene  of  profound  conflicts,  but  it  has  penetrated  to  the 
mind  and  heart  of  the  average  individual.  Never  perhaps  were 
men  so  like  one  another  and  so  divided  within  themselves.  In 
other  ages,  even  more  than  at  present,  different  classes  of  <  men 
have  stood  at  different  levels  of  culture,  with  a  magnificent 
readiness  to  persecute  or  to  be  martyred  for  their  respective 
principles.  These  militant  believers  have  been  keenly  conscious 
that  they  had  enemies ;  but  their  enemies  were  strangers  to  them, 
whom  they  could  think  of  merely  as  such,  regarding  them  as 
blank  negative  forces,  hateful  black  devils,  whose  existence 
might  make  life  difficult  but  could  not  confuse  the  ideal  of  life 

Everyone  sincerely  felt  that  the  right  was  entirely  on  his 

side,  a  proof  that  such  intelligence  as  he  had  moved  freely  and 
exclusively  within  the  lines  of  his  faith.  The  result  of  this  was 
that  his  faith  was  intelligent  (and  may  we  add  morally  dy- 
namic), I  mean,  that  he  understood  it,  and  had  a  clear,  almost 
instinctive  perception  of  what  was  compatible  or  incompatible 
with  it.  He  defended  his  walls  and  cultivated  his  garden. 

How  very  clearly  such  a  paragraph  as  this  justifies  the  Catho- 
lic position,  and  to  no  one  more  than  to  the  Catholic  himself. 
Human  nature  is  a  limited  thing,  its  very  perfection  is  conditional 
on  some  wise  limitation;  we  must  have  our  walls  to  defend,  if  we 
wish  to  have  our  gardens  to  cultivate.  Voltaire  it  was  who  coun- 
selled us  to  destroy  our  walls,  and  then  to  cultivate  our  gardens. 
Limitation  is  the  basis  of  Catholic  thought,  just  as  humility  is  the 
basis  of  Catholic  life.  Outside  the  Church  there  is  nothing  but 
confusion  of  clear  intelligence  and  the  blurring  of  moral  distinc- 
tions; there  is  no  pattern  of  life;  there  is  no  energy  to  live  it  out. 
A  book  of  this  kind  is  useful,  then,  in  so  far  as  it  goes  now  to  one 
philosophy  or  creed,  now  to  another,  and  picks  up  the  separate 
pieces  of  the  human  puzzle  which  go  to  the  making  of  the  great 
Catholic  plan. 

We  have  no  space  to  notice  each  of  these  brilliant  essays  in  de- 
tail; they  include  a  criticism  of  the  Bergson  philosophy,  of  Mr.  Ber- 
trand  Russell's  work,  and  of  American  contemporary  life;  also  an 
appreciation  of  Shelley,  and  a  very  damaging  examination  of  the 


536  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

Modernist  theory.  According  to  Mr.  Santayana,  the  Modernist 
Movement  against  the  Church  is  wholly  illogical.  "  To  divorce, 
as  Modernists  do,  the  history  of  the  world  from  the  story  of  salva- 
tion, and  God's  government  and  the  sanctions  of  religion  from  the 
operation  of  matter,  is  a  fundamental  apostasy  from  Christianity." 
It  is  merely  silly,  he  thinks,  for  the  Modernists  to  accuse  the  Church 
of  being  untrue  to  the  sublime  ideals  of  the  Gospel.  "  They  talk 
a  great  deal  of  development,  and  they  do  not  see  that  what  they 
detest  in  the  Church  is  a  perfect  development  of  its  original  essence; 
that  monachism,  scholasticism,  Jesuitism,  ultramontanism,  and  vati- 
canism  are  all  thoroughly  apostolic;  beneath  the  overtones  imposed 
by  a  series  of  ages  they  give  out  the  full  and  exact  note  of  the 
New  Testament.  Much  has  been  added  but  nothing  has  been 
lost."  This  essay  should  be  carefully  studied  by  Catholic  apolo- 
gists. 

THE  NAMES  OF  GOD.  By  Yen.  Leonard  Lessius,  S.J.  Trans- 
lated by  T.  J.  Campbell,  S.J.  New  York :  The  America  Press. 
$1.08  postpaid. 

For  the  average  believer  the  attributes  of  God  are  puzzling, 
inconceivable,  dazzling  realities,  of  which  he  cannot  form  clear, 
definite  concepts;  realities  which  are  to  be  grasped  and  securely 
held  by  faith  while  we  see  things  as  in  a  glass,  since  they  can  be 
understood  and  appreciated  only  when  we  see  Him  face  to  face. 
The  divine  perfections,  however,  have  often  been  favorite  sub- 
jects of  meditation  for  holy  souls.  They  may  have  found  them 
difficult,  but  they  also  found  them  full  of  meat  and  drink  for  the 
soul.  What  is  meant  by  these  attributes,  and  how  they  are  in 
God,  is  simply  and  briefly  explained  by  Lessius  in  that  work  of  his 
which  forms  the  first  part  of  this  translation  by  Father  Campbell, 
and  provides  its  title.  Some  of  the  author's  pious  reflections  on 
the  Divine  attributes,  put  in  the  form  of  prayers,  make  up  the 
second  part  of  the  work. 

IN  GOD'S  NURSERY.     By  C.  C.  Martindale,  S.J.     New  York: 

Longmans,  Green  &  Co.     $1.25  net. 

A  volume  of  quiet  unusual  short  stories  is  this  called  In 
God's  Nursery.  They  are  written  by  C.  C.  Martindale,  S.J.,  and 
appeared  originally  in  the  pages  of  the  Month.  Most  of  them  deal 
with  some  ancient  civilization,  and  their  manner  is  unique.  We 
have  had  ancient  civilization  portrayed  for  us  often  in  fiction,  to 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  537 

be  sure ;  Ben  Hur  and  Fabiola  and  Callista  had  a  host  of  imitators. 
But  a  novel  like  Ben  Hur  or  Fabiola  is  one  grand  and  splendid 
panorama  of  history— a  long  painting  of  glowing  colors  and  vast 
distances.  These  little  stories  are  bits  of  mosaic.  They  are  dainty 
and  delicate;  it  might  at  first  seem  petty  in  scope.  But  rather  are 
they  like  a  quatrain  by  Father  Tabb,  a  tiny  cup  exquisitely  fash- 
ioned to  hold  a  dewdrop.  The  thought  in  each  is  single  and 
crystal-clear. 

Several  of  the  stories  tell  of  those  almost  forgotten  little 
personages,  the  children  of  the  far  past.  We  meet  the  naughty 
little  Greek  boy,  Theon,  who  sends  a  letter  on  papyrus  to  his 
father,  to  announce  in  bad  spelling  and  worse  temper  that  he  wants 
a  lyre,  and  "  won't  never  "  eat  and  drink  if  he  doesn't  get  it.  Much 
more  appealing  is  the  little  Roman  girl,  Calpurnia  the  Less,  who 
runs  away  from  her  nurse,  and  is  terrified  by  the  tales  of  a  little 
boy  she  meets,  tales  of  the  revengeful  ghosts,  the  Manes,  and  the 
ceremonies  of  bean-throwing  in  propitiation.  She  is  reassured 
later,  however,  by  her  kindly  Uncle  Ovid,  who  reads  to  her  the 
gentle  epitaphs  on  the  tombs  along  the  Flaminian  Way,  and  who 
even  lets  her  witness  the  pretty  ceremonies  of  the  Parentalia. 
Gradually  her  fear  of  the  dead  is  diminished ;  she  learns  to  wreathe 
flowers  for  their  graves,  and  to  hope  that  they  have  found  a 
"  perpetual  peace." 

Throughout  the  story  of  Calpurnia  the  author  traces  the  purest 
religious  instinct  among  the  Romans,  and  the  vague  but  sure  belief 
in  a  future  life  that  was  theirs  as  a  part  of  their  human  heritage. 
And  even  prettier  is  the  tale  of  six-year-old  Manlius,  who  broke 
off  the  head  of  his  sister  Petronilla's  doll,  and  suffered  agonies 
of  remorse  after  Petronilla  had  been  sent  to  the  temple  to  become  a 
Vestal  Virgin. 

In  the  story  called  Roma  Felix,  the  main  idea  of  the  author's 
mind  is  definitely  phrased.  I  mean  the  idea  of  our  religious  kinship 
with  the  peoples  of  antiquity.  More  lights  have  been  lighted  for 
us,  but  they  in  their  darkness  were  also  struggling  toward  the 
same  "lux  ceterna"  In  Roma  Felix  an  Englishman  reading  the 
Eclogues  in  a  garden  in  Sussex  holds  an  interview  with  the  shade 
of  Vergil,  and  the  two  naturally  fall  to  discussing  philosophy  and 
religion.  At  last  the  poet  rises  to  depart,  and  says,  with  his 
gentle  smile :  "  There  were  millions  and  millions  of  us,  of  one 
blood  with  you  over  all  the  earth,  groping  after  God  if  haply  we 
might  find  Him,  tendebantque  manus  ripce  ulterioris  amore,  stretch- 


538  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

ing  out  their  hands  in  longing  for  the  farther  shore.     Well,"  he 
ended, 

"  'Attulit   et   nobis   aliquando    optantibus   atas 
Adventum  auxiliumque  Dei.' " 

THREE  YEARS  IN  THE  LIBYAN  DESERT.  Travels,  Discov- 
eries, and  Excavations  of  the  Menas  Expedition.  By  J.  C. 
Ewald  Falls.  St.  Louis:  B.  Herder.  $4.50  net. 
The  object  of  the  Kaufmann  Expedition  was  "  to  rediscover 
the  highly  important,  long,  and  vainly-sought  early  Christian  sanc- 
tuary in  the  Libyan  Desert,  the  Tomb  of  St.  Menas.  St.  Menas 
whose  feast  is  celebrated  by  the  Catholic  and  Greek  Churches  on 
November  nth,  and  by  the  Coptic  Church  on  the  fifteenth  of  the 
month  of  Hatur,  was  an  Egyptian  officer  in  the  Roman  serv- 
ice towards  the  end  of  the  third  century.  His  father  was  Prefect 
of  Phrygia  in  Asia  Minor.  The  young  Menas  was  brought  up 
a  Christian  by  his  parents,  and  against  his  will  was  compelled 
by  his  father's  successor  in  the  prefecture  to  enter  the  regiment 
of  the  Rutilaces.  All  went  well  until  the  persecution  of  Dio- 
cletian. It  was  carried  on  with  great  severity,  especially  against 
the  Christian  soldiers  of  the  provinces.  In  due  course  the  decree 
came  to  Kotyaion  (now  Kutahia),  where  in  1833  Mohammed  AH 
of  Egypt  concluded  a  peace  with  Turkey.  Menas,  who  was  sta- 
tioned there,  fled  into  the  outskirts  of  the  desert,  where  he  lived 
a  hard-working  life  of  self-denial.  Here  a  vision  was  vouch- 
safed him,  which  stimulated  him  to  martyrdom,  and  prophesied  the 
importance  of  his  future  sanctuary. 

On  the  day  of  the  riders'  festival  in  the  stadium  of  Kotyaion, 
just  as  the  games  were  about  to  begin,  Menas  stepped  boldly 
into  the  arena,  and  in  a  loud  voice  declared  himself  a  Christian. 
The  governor,  a  friend  of  his  family,  was  most  friendly  to  the  pop- 
ular young  officer.  He  imprisoned  him  according  to  law,  but 
did  his  utmost  to  make  him  abjure.  As  Menas  remained  stead- 
fast, the  angry  governor  eventually  ordered  him  to  be  whipped 
with  thorns  or  ox-hide,  and  his  flesh  torn  with  iron  scorpions. 
As  no  torture  could  shake  his  constancy,  he  was  at  last  beheaded, 
A.  D.  296.  His  body  was  burned,  although  the  Christians  succeeded 
in  snatching  it  from  the  flames,  hoping  some  day  to  bury  it,  as  was 
his  wish,  in  his  native  Egypt.  Soon  after,  some  of  the  Phrygian 
troops  were  ordered  to  Cyrenaica,  and  the  Christian  officer,  Athana- 
sius>  was  given  the  command.  He  took  the  remains  of  the  martyr 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  539 

with  him.  At  the  lake  of  Mareotis,  the  first  stopping  place  between 
Alexandria  and  Cyrenaica,  a  great  battle  was  fought  and  won. 
When  Athanasius  attempted  to  proceed  with  the  body  of  Menas,  the 
camel  who  bore  it  refused  to  stir,  and  so  the  saint  was  buried  on 
the  spot.  A  church  was  built  over  this  grave  in  the  days  when 
St.  Athanasius  ruled  as  Patriarch  of  Alexandria.  All  the  bishops 
and  priests  of  Egypt  took  part  in  the  consecration  of  the  sanctuary. 
As  the  church  became  too  small  for  the  innumerable  pilgrims  who 
came  to  visit  the  shrine,  an  enormous  basilica  was  built  on  'the 
site  by  the  Emperor  Arcadius.  Later  on  the  Emperor  Zeno  built 
a  city  and  erected  a  palace  for  himself  near  the  church,  and  es- 
tablished a  large  permanent  garrison  as  a  protection  against  .the 
Bedouins. 

It  was  this  city  and  church  which  Monsignor  Kaufmann  of 
Frankfort,  and  his  nephew  who  wrote  the  volume  before  us,  located 
on  July  7,  1905,  after  a  long  and  persevering  search.  Backed  by 
the  moral  support  of  the  influential  Schiess  Pascha,  the  President 
of  the  Alexandrian  Antiquities  Commission,  they  obtained  per- 
mission from  the  Egyptian  government  to  excavate  the  ruins  of 
what  has  been  aptly  called  The  Egyptian  Lourdes.  Dr.  Bode  of 
the  Berlin  Museum  and  other  friends  furnished  the  money,  and 
the  two  archaeologists  spent  the  next  three  years  unearthing  the 
tomb  of  St.  Menas,  the  Constantine  Church,  the  Arcadius  basilica, 
the  baptistry  and  consignatorium,  and  the  baths  of  Menas.  In 
all  the  rooms  of  the  baths  water  vessels  were  found,  and  many  of 
the  well-known  Menas  ampullae,  on  which  were  written  invocations 
to  the  saint.  Just  as  at  Lourdes  to-day,  the  pilgrims  of  this 
fourth  century  shrine  bathed  in  the  baths  of  St.  Menas,  and  carried 
home  some  of  the  water  with  them  to  use  in  sickness. 

There  is  an  excellent  chapter  on  the  religion  and  customs 
of  the  Bedouins.  The  story  of  the  three  years  labors  of  these 
two  indefatigable  savants  keeps  one's  interest  to  the  end.  The  book 
is  fairly  well  translated,  though  now  and  again  the  careful  reader 
will  realize  that  it  is  a  translation. 

FROM  HUSSAR  TO  PRIEST.  A  Memoir  of  Charles  Rose  Chase. 
By  H.  P.  Russell.  London:  Kegan  Paul,  Trench,  Triibner 
&  Co.  5  s.  net. 

"  This  memoir  of  a  friend  "  writes  the  author  in  his  Epilogue, 
"  was  undertaken,  not  without  hesitation,  at  the  request  of  friends 
who  are  desirous  of  some  such  memorial  of  one  who  exercised  so 


540  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

great  an  influence  for  good,  and  hope  that  a  memoir  may  in  some 
measure  help  to  perpetuate  that  influence." 

In  May,  1875,  Father  Chase,  then  a  High  Church  Anglican 
clergyman,  met  Monsignor  Robinson  at  the  Hotel  Schweizerhof  in 
Lucerne.  They  discussed  together  the  utter  lack  of  unity  in  the 
Established  Church,  and  Father  Chase  left  for  England,  as  he  him- 
self said,  "  absolutely  convinced  of  the  claims  of  the  Catholic 
Church  to  his  allegiance."  He  stopped  over  in  Paris  on  his  way 
home,  entered  the  church  of  Notre  Dame  de  Victoire,  and  there 
spent  a  whole  day  in  prayer  for  light.  Strangely  enough,  he  rose 
from  his  knees  feeling  convinced  that  the  Anglican  Church  was 
right.  He  spent  the  next  twenty-five  years  in  perfect  good  faith  as 
a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  until  in  1900  the  public 
denial  of  the  Real  Presence  by  the  two  Anglican  archbishops  con- 
vinced him  that  communion  with  the  Anglican  system  was  hence- 
forth impossible. 

He  wrote  in  a  letter  from  Milan  at  the  time :  "  After  all, 
though  there  are  many  saintly  men  and  women  in  the  Church  of 
England,  they  do  not  represent  her  teaching — who  can  do  that  but 
her  two  archbishops  who  have  denied  the  Real  Presence,  and  the 
bishops  who,  without  a  word,  acquiesce  in  their  heresy?  If  the 
Church  of  England  was  the  Catholic  Church  in  England,  every 
bishop,  priest,  and  layman  would  denounce  the  archbishops  as 
heretics.  St.  Ambrose,  fifteen  hundred  years  ago,  writing  from 
this  same  Milan,  said :  (Ubi  Petrus,  ibi  Ecclesia — where  Peter  is, 
there  is  the  Church.'  But  it  has  taken  me  a  lamentable  time  to 
find  that  out — that  there  must  always  be  a  Peter  in  the  Church 
to  feed  the  Christian  sheep."  At  the  shrine  of  his  great  patron, 
St.  Charles,  in  the  Cathedral  of  Milan,  all  the  clouds  of  doubt 
rolled  away  forever.  The  veil  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  faith  was  his. 

Every  one  agrees  that  Father  Chase  was  a  most  winning 
and  lovable  man.  His  appearance  was  singularly  striking  and 
attractive.  He  was  tall  and  dignified,  of  courteous  bearing,  of 
refined  address,  and  with  something  of  the  soldier's  manner  still 
clinging  to  him.  He  had  a  strong  yet  loving  disposition,  and  his 
cheerfulness  won  him  countless  friends  and  many  converts. 

When  Cardinal  Vaughan,  realizing  the  great  good  affected 
by  the  special  apostolate  of  the  Paulist  Fathers  in  the  United 
States  among  non-Catholics,  looked  around  for  a  man  to  carry  on 
the  same  work  in  England,  he  selected  Father  Chase,  making  him 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  541 

Superior  of  the  Diocesan  Missionaries  of  Our  Lady  of  Compassion. 
The  author  says :  "  These  missions  to  non-Catholics  appeared  at 
first  to  have  been  looked  at  askance  by  seemingly  everyone  except 
the  Cardinal.  Their  results,  however,  have  proved  so  encour- 
aging as  to  have  brought  about  a  great  change  of  feeling  in  regard 
to  them.  So  true  is  this  that  priests  all  over  the  country  are 
anxious  for  them,  and  other  priests  besides  the  missionaries  es- 
tablished by  Cardinal  Vaughan  are  now  giving  them." 

We  recommend  this  book  most  highly,  and  feel  confident 
that  Father  Chase's  singleness  of  purpose,  and  his  personal  love 
of  our  Lord,  will  prove  an  inspiration  to  the  clergy  of  both  England 
and  America. 

EUROPEAN  CITIES  AT  WORK.     By  Frederick  C.  Howe,  Ph.D. 

New  York:   Charles  Scribner's  Sons.     $1.75  net. 

This  book  is  a  study  of  the  cities  of  Germany  and  Great 
Britain  gained  by  personal  contact  with  burgomasters,  officials, 
and  business  men  in  Berlin,  Frankfort,  Hamburg,  Diisseldorf,  Dres- 
den, and  Munich;  and  with  the  mayors  and  councilmen  of  Glas- 
gow, Manchester,  Liverpool,  and  London.  It  is  the  result  of  many 
visits  to  Europe  by  the  author,  who  went  abroad  to  make  munic- 
ipal investigations  for  the  United  States  Government  and  for  the 
Boston  Chamber  of  Commerce. 

Mr.  Howe  writes  most  enthusiastically  of  the  cities  of  Ger- 
many. In  most  respects  he  declares  them  superior  to  ours.  To 
his  mind  the  chief  reason  of  our  inferiority  lies  in  the  American 
denial  of  home  rule,  our  cities  being  in  bondage  to  a  higher  author- 
ity, the  State,  to  which  they  must  constantly  go  for  relief.  They 
cannot  enter  on  the  smallest  undertaking  until  a  reluctant  legislature 
has  granted  the  required  permission.  Our  cities  are  often  obliged 
to  spend  $100,000  instead  of  a  $1,000,000,  because  of  the  debt  limit 
arbitrarily  fixed  at  the  State  Capitol.  They  cannot  independently 
regulate  the  public  service  corporations;  secure  better  street-car 
or  subway  service;  extend  new  territory;  regulate  the  tenements 
or  slums,  or  limit  the  height,  style,  and  character  of  their  buildings. 
Privileged  interests,  political  bosses,  and  suspicious  farmers  have 
rendered  most  of  our  cities  hopelessly  incompetent. 

Strangely  enough,  monarchial  Germany  seems  far  more  dem- 
ocratic than  free  America. 

It  assumes  as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  city  should  be  as 
powerful  as  a  private  individual,  certainly  as  powerful  as  a 


542  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

private  corporation.  And  the  things  forbidden  are  relatively 
few.  The  city  has  wide  latitude  in  the  ways  it  can  raise  its 
revenues.  It  can  adopt  business,  license,  or  real-estate  taxes, 
and  fix  the  rates  that  shall  be  paid.  There  is  no  legal  limit 

to  the  tax  rate nor  are  there  any  limits  on  the  amount  of 

money  that  can  be  borrowed,  or  the  purposes  for  which  it  can 

be  used The  city  engages  in  land  speculation  for  profit ; 

it  owns  farms  and  forests,  docks  and  harbors,  savings  banks, 
mortgage  institutions,  and  pawn  shops.  It  loans  money  for 
house  building,  erects  houses  for  its  working  people,  owns  opera 
houses,  theatres,  and  exposition  buildings,  and  operates  wine 
handling  businesses  for  profit.  It  controls  the  land  speculator 
and  plans  his  land  for  him ;  it  determines  the  purposes  for  which 
the  land  shall  be  used  before  it  is  sold The  cities  pre- 
scribe where  factories  shall  go,  etc.,  etc. 

The  German  city  is  governed  by  experts  who  devote  their 
lives  to  it.  They  prepare  themselves  for  city  administration  as 
they  do  for  law,  medicine  or  any  other  profession.  They  take 
special  courses  at  the  universities  and  technical  schools,  the  better 
to  fit  themselves  for  town  planning,  sanitation,  engineering,  finance, 
and  education.  On  graduation,  they  compete  for  a  municipal  post 
with  candidates  from  all  over  Germany,  for  municipal  administra- 
tion is  for  the  expert  and  not  for  the  mere  politician. 

Town  planning  has  received  more  attention  with  the  Germans 
than  with  us.  Within  the  past  fifteen  years  almost  every  German 
city  has  undertaken  a  more  or  less  ambitious  planning  project. 
Experts  have  been  employed  to  lay  out  suburbs,  plan  city  centres, 
locate  public  buildings;  introduce  new  streets  into  old  quarters, 
and  to  give  advice  on  sanitation,  housing,  etc.  The  American 
rectangular  arrangement  of  streets  is  generally  rejected  as  monot- 
onous and  lacking  in  beauty.  The  main  thoroughfares  are  often  a 
hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  width.  The 
Germans  have  this  advantage  over  us  in  town  planning,  in  that 
the  German  city  is  often  the  largest  land  owner  in  a  community. 
The  building  ordinances  insist  generally  on  a  universal  sky  line  as 
well  as  on  a  universal  house  frontage.  The  water  fronts  which  with 
us  are  often  given  over  to  railway  tracks,  warehouses,  and  factories, 
are  features  of  the  German  city's  beauty,  and  are  developed  as 
promenades  and  parkways. 

Municipal  ownership  has  made  great  progress  in  Germany. 
Mr.  Howe  describes  in  detail  its  working  in  Dusseldorf,  a  town  of 
over  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  This  city  owns  the  gas 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  543 

works,  the  electric  plant,  and  the  street  railway ;  it  speculates  largely 
in  land;  runs  a  municipal  mortgage  bank  and  a  savings  bank;  oper- 
ates a  pawn  shop;  maintains  a  labor  exchange;  carries  on  a  wine 
business,  and  owns  a  number  of  restaurants.  All  this  has  been 
done  not  by  socialists,  but  by  hard-headed  business  men,  who 
deem  this  the  best  sort  of  municipal  investment.  The  budget  of 
Dusseldorf  is,  however,  very  large — $28,250,000,  or  about  $100 
per  capita,  which  is  about  five  times  the  per  capita  budget  of  Cleve- 
land, Pittsburgh,  Milwaukee,  or  Chicago.  Its  indebtedness  is  about 
the  same  amount,  but  the  city  possesses  assets  of  over  $40,000,000, 
which  not  only  earn  the  interest  charges  on  the  cost,  but  turn  into 
the  city  treasury  a  substantial  revenue  for  the  relief  of  taxation. 

Mr.  Howe  is  not  so  enthusiastic  about  the  British  cities, 
although  he  grants  they  are  generally  honest  and  efficient.  He 
calls  special  attention  to  the  great  extent  of  land  monopoly.  One- 
fourth  of  the  land  of  the  United  Kingdom  is  owned  by  twelve 
hundred  persons,  another  fourth  by  sixty-two  hundred  owners, 
while  the  remaining  half  is  distributed  between  312,150  persons. 
There  are  twelve  landlords  who  own  4,500,000  acres.  The  land 
underlying  London  with  its  7,000,000  people  is  owned  in  large  part 
by  nine  estates.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  land  as  land  pays  no 
direct  taxes  for  local  purposes  at  all.  In  fact  the  land  has  not 
been  assessed  for  taxation  since  1692,  when  Great  Britain  was  an 
agricultural  country,  and  London  was  little  more  than  a  village. 
Such  powers  as  the  American  city  enjoys  as  a  matter  of  course 
in  condemnation  proceedings,  special  assessments,  the  issuance  of 
bonds,  the  management  of  water  undertakings,  the  building  of 
docks,  and  the  opening  of  markets,  do  not  exist  in  Great  Britain. 

We  think  that  Mr.  Howe  might  have  devoted  more  than  two 
pages  on  the  many  things  which  are  being  done  better  by  the 
American  city  than  by  any  other  city  in  the  world.  But  in  his 
interesting  volume  he  has  pointed  out  many  things  that  our  city 
fathers  could  study  with  profit,  even  if  we  do  not  want  the  pater- 
nalism of  Germany  to  rule  supreme  in  these  free  United  States. 

THE  DRIFT  OF  ROMANTICISM.     By  Paul  Elmer  More.     Bos- 
ton:   Houghton   Mifflin   Co.     $1.25   net. 
Mr.  More  states  in  his  preface :    "  The  romantic  movement, 
beneath  all  its  show  of  expansion  and  vitality,  seems  to  me  at 
its  heart  to  be  just  a  drift  towards  disintegration  and  disease." 
To  prove  this  strange  thesis,  he  discusses  in  turn  "  the  morbid 


544  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

egotism  of  Beckford;  the  religious  defalcation  of  Newman;  the 
sestheticism  of  Pater;  the  naturalistic  pantheism  of  Fiona  Macleod 
(William  Sharp)  ;  the  impotent  revolt  from  humanitarian  sym- 
pathy of  Nietzsche,  and  the  confusion  of  ideas  of  Huxley." 

When  one  sees  this  most  extraordinary  group  put  forward  as 
types  of  degenerate  romanticism,  one  wonders  how  Mr.  More 
is  going  to  define  the  term.  On  reading  his  definition,  we  are 
conscious  of  the  feeling  of  irritation  which  he  professes  to  have 
felt  while  reading  Pater.  "If  I  had  to  designate  very  briefly 
this  underlying  principle  which  gives  to  historic  romance  a  char- 
acter radically  different  from  the  mystery  and  wonder  of  classic 
art,  I  should  define  it  as  that  expansive  conceit  of  the  emotions 
which  goes  with  the  illusion  of  beholding  the  infinite  within  the 
stream  of  nature  itself  instead  of  apart  from  the  stream." 

The  sane  thinker  is  obliged  to  confess  that  Mr.  More's  earnest 
striving  after  an  original  synthesis  is  but  a  vain  beating  of  the 
air.  He  fails  utterly  to  prove  his  thesis,  although  occasionally 
he  manages  to  give  us  a  few  critical  estimates  of  some  of  the  writers 
he  discusses.  Of  Fiona  Macleod  he  writes :  "  The  simple  fact  is 
that  Mr.  Sharp,  having  got  the  trick  of  this  sort  of  symbolic  writ- 
ing, found  it  delightfully  easy,  and  indulged  in  it  without  restraint. 
Possibly  he  deceived  himself  into  believing  that  to  write  without 
thought  is  to  write  with  inspiration." 

Of  Nietzsche  he  writes :  "  His  writing  is  too  often  in  a  style  of 
spasmodic  commonplace,  displaying  a  tortured  effort  to  appear  pro- 
found." 

The  sum  of  Pater's  philosophy  was :  "  The  admonition  to  train 
our  body  and  mind  to  the  highest  point  of  acuteness  so  as  to  catch, 
as  it  were,  each  fleeting  glimpse  of  beauty  on  the  wing,  and  by 
the  intensity  of  our  participation  to  compensate  for  the  insecurity 
of  the  world's  gifts — in  a  word,  the  admonition  to  make  of  life  itself 
an  art." 

The  essay  on  Cardinal  Newman  best  shows  Mr.  More's  limit- 
ations. He  is  as  capable  of  understanding  him  as  the  average 
layman  is  of  understanding  the  intricacies  of  Hindu  law.  Newman, 
we  are  told,  was  seldom  at  his  best  as  a  letter  writer,  and  there- 
fore Wilfrid  Ward  in  his  Life  "  printed  a  good  deal  of  unentertain- 
ing  correspondence  that  was  not  necessary  to  an  understanding  of 
Newman's  character."  Of  course  Catholicism  "  if  it  did  not  silence, 
at  least  muffled  his  magic  voice;"  i.  e.,  from  the  viewpoint  of  style. 
We  rub  our  eyes  when  we  read  the  following :  "  Newman's  con- 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  545 

version  was  a  failure  in  duty,  a  betrayal  of  the  will.  In  succumbing 
to  an  authority  which  promised  to  allay  the  anguish  of  his  intel- 
lect, he  rejected  the  great  mission  of  faith."  In  other  words : 
"  He  might  have  accepted  manfully  the  skeptical  demolition  of 
the  Christian  mythology,  and  the  whole  fabric  of  external  religion, 
and  on  the  ruins  of  such  creeds  he  might  have  risen  to  that  supreme 
insight  which  demands  no  revelation,  and  is  dependent  on  no 
authority,  but  is  content  with  itself."  Or  again :  "  He  might 
have  held  to  the  national  worship  as  a  symbol  of  the  religious  ex- 
perience of  the  people,  and  into  that  worship  and  that  symbol  he 
might  have  breathed  the  new  fervor  of  his  own  faith." 

Mr.  More's  theology  negatives  all  notion  of  a  divine  revelation, 
and  a  divine  teaching  authority ;  his  philosophy  knows  nothing  either 
of  logic  or  of  objective  truth. 

No  wonder  then  that  he  fails  to  understand  Cardinal  New- 
man's place  either  in  literature  or  in  philosophy.  Why  Newman 
should  have  figured  in  this  volume  at  all  is  utterly  beyond  us. 

In  conclusion  we  might  say  of  Mr.  More's  essays  what  he  says 
of  Nietzsche :  "  Most  of  his  book  is  just  the  sort  of  spasmodic 
commonplace  that  enraptures  the  half -cultured,  and  flatters  them 
with  thinking  they  have  discovered  a  profound  philosophical  basis 
for  their  untutored  emotions." 

SOCIAL    ENVIRONMENT     AND     MORAL    PROGRESS.      By 

Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  F.R.S.     New  York:   The  Cassell  Co. 

$1.25. 

Alfred  Russel  Wallace  will  ever  be  associated  with  Charles 
Darwin  as  the  author  of  the  Theory  of  Natural  Selection.  And 
now,  at  ninety  years  of  age,  this  venerable  scientist  has  written  a 
little  sociological  manual  full  of  vision  and  moral  hope,  in  which 
he  makes  an  urgent  demand  for  the  spiritual  invigoration  of  civil- 
ized life.  How  is  such  a  profound  and  collective  realization  of 
moral  principles  to  be  directed?  "No  definite  advance  in  morals 
can  occur  in  any  race  unless  there  is  some  selective  or  segregative 
agency  at  zvork."  Where  are  we  to  look  for  such  an  agency? 
Before  attempting  to  answer  this  last  and  vitally  important  question, 
he  addresses  himself  to  a  consideration  of  the  facts  of  historic  and 
contemporary  life.  He  asserts,  in  the  face  of  a  prevalent  and 
shallow  optimism,  a  few  of  the  facts  of  human  nature  which  Catho- 
lics have  always  and  everywhere  believed.  There  is  no  necessary 
connection,  he  believes,  between  the  lapse  of  ages  and  the  improve- 

VOL.  xcvu. — 35 


546  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

ment  of  the  human  race.  Indeed  there  is  a  tendency  to  degeneration 
or  recession  directly  an  individual  or  a  society  abstains  from  con- 
scious moral  or  intellectual  effort;  there  is,  in  fact,  a  general  weak- 
ness inherent  in  human  nature  which  prevents  automatic  progress 
towards  what  is  best.  He  holds  that  intellectual  and  moral  genius 
is  rare  and  infrequent,  because  the  higher  intellectual  and  moral 
powers  are  so  rarely  of  a  life-preserving  value.  May  we  not  argue 
from  this  that  they  are  given  us  for  ends  which  transcend  the 
needs  of  this  present  life,  and  are  only  intended  to  reach  their 
fullest  development  and  use  in  the  life  which  is  to  come? 

He  also  holds  that  "there  has  been  no  definite  advance  of 
morality  from  age  to  age,  and  even  that  the  lowest  races,  at  each 
period,  possessed  the  same  intellectual  and  moral  nature  as  the 
higher."  There  have  been  risings  and  fallings,  periods  and  places 
of  improvement  or  decay;  individuals  in  all  ages  of  astonishing  vir- 
tues or  vices ;  now  one  and  now  another  nation  sitting  in  darkness 
and  in  the  shadow  of  death,  now  one  and  now  another  finding  a  pre- 
carious place  in  the  sun.  Coming  to  our  own  time,  he  points  out 
how  mechanical  invention  has  enabled  man  to  ransack  the  treasures 
of  the  world,  and  to  produce  an  unprecedented  accumulation  of 
wealth.  But  with  what  results?  "This  rapid  growth  of  wealth, 
and  increase  of  our  power  over  Nature,  put  too  great  a  strain  upon 
our  crude  civilization  and  our  superficial  Christianity,  and  it  was 

accompanied  by  various  forms  of  social  immorality amazing 

and  unprecedented."  In  the  five  following  chapters  he  gives  details 
of  this  social  immorality,  and  sums  up  with  the  verdict  that  we  are 
"  guilty  of  a  lack  of  national  morality  that  has  never  been  surpassed 
in  any  former  age." 

What  is  to  be  done?  The  remaining  chapters  of  the  book 
provide  a  basis  of  solution  conceived  on  spiritual  and  scientific 
lines.  Dr.  Russel  Wallace  at  first  is  careful  to  explain  exactly 
what  the  Theory  of  Natural  Selection  really  is  and  what  it  is  not, 
where  it  holds  good  and  where  it  ceases  to  apply.  As  applied  to 
the  brute  world  it  rests  upon  two  facts :  ( i )  the  great  variability  in 
all  common  and  widespread  species,  and  (2)  their  enormous  power 
of  increase.  The  great  variability  in  these  animal  species  allows 
the  strongest  of  their  number  to  adapt  themselves  gradually  to  the 
environment  in  which  they  are  placed,  while  their  enormous  power 
of  increase  enables  these  same  stronger  members  of  each  species 
to  survive,  while  the  weaker  ones  die  out.  In  this  way  it  happens 
tha,t  only  the  fittest  survive.  Now  this  process  of  Natural  Selec- 


[ 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  547 

tion  obtains  throughout  the  whole  brute  creation,  and  there  is  no 
other  process  at  work  there  sufficiently  powerful  to  check  or  super- 
sede it.  But  with  man  the  case  is  entirely  different.  The  mis- 
take of  many  eminent  scientists,  and  of  most  popular  scientific 
writers  in  the  past,  and  even  in  the  present  generation,  has  been 
to  apply  the  theory  of  Natural  Selection  to  man  without  stopping 
to  inquire  how  its  action  has  been  checked  and  even  superseded 
when  applied  to  human  life.  There  is  an  absolute  distinction  be- 
tween brute  life  and  human  life,  says  Dr.  Russel  Wallace,  a  dis- 
tinction which  Natural  Selection,  as  the  basis  of  the  evolutionary 
theory,  can  never  account  for. 

Man,  according  to  Dr.  Wallace,  is  possessed  of  a  lofty  intel- 
lect, and 

besides  this  lofty  intellect  is  gifted  with  what  we  term  a  moral 
sense :  insistent  perception  of  justice  and  injustice,  of  right  and 
wrong,  of  order  and  beauty  and  truth,  which  as  a  whole  con- 
stitute his  moral  and  aesthetic  nature The  long  course  of 

human  history  leads  us  to  the  conclusion  that  this  higher  nature 

of  man  arose  at  some  far  distant  epoch at  a  time  when  by 

the  influx  of  some  portion  of  the  spirit  of  Deity  man  became 
a  "  living  soul." 

What  change,  then,  asks  the  author,  has  this  higher  nature  of 
man  produced  in  the  action  of  the  laws  of  variation  and  Natural 
Selection?  A  detailed  answer  to  this  question  is  given  which  may 
be  summed  up  in  the  final  conclusion,  that  in  the  realm  of  human 
nature  Natural  Selection  has  been  very  largely  superseded  by  a 
higher  form  of  selection  based  on  the  Christian  law  of  life.  The 
"  survival  of  the  fittest "  gives  place  to  "  mutual  aid."  We  select 
for  moral  and  mental  and  not  merely  for  physical  qualities,  and 
the  highest  of  the  former  may  co-exist  with  the  lowest  of  the  latter. 
But  there  are  many  who  in  theory  or  fact  repudiate  this  higher 
Christian  law, 

who  are  so  imbued  with  the  universality  of  Natural  Selection  as 
a  beneficial  law  of  Nature  that  they  object  to  our  interference 
with  its  action  in,  as  they  urge,  the  elimination  of  the  unfit  by 
disease  and  death,  even  when  such  diseases  are  caused  by  the 
insanitary  conditions  of  our  modern  cities,  or  the  misery  and 
destitution  due  to  our  immoral  and  irrational  social  system. 
Such  writers  entirely  ignore  the  undoubted  fact  that  affection, 
sympathy,  compassion  form  as  essential  a  part  of  human  nature 
as  do  the  higher  intellectual  and  moral  faculties;  that  in  the 
very  earliest  periods  of  history,  and  among  the  lowest  of  exist- 


548  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

ing  savages,  they  are  fully  manifested,  not  merely  between 
members  of  the  same  family,  but  throughout  the  whole  tribe, 
and  also  in  most  cases  to  every  stranger  who  is  not  a  known  or 
imagined  enemy. 

The  last  part  of  this  valuable  little  book  is  to  my  mind  the 
least  conclusive.  From  the  outset,  it  will  be  remembered  the  author 
demanded  "  some  selective  or  segregative  agency  "  of  a  high  moral 
order  to  raise  the  standard  of  spiritual  theory  and  practice  through- 
out the  civilized  world.  He  suggests  that  given  economic  equality 
between  man  and  woman,  family  life  may  provide  such  an  agency. 
But  may  we  not  ask  him  what  spiritual  agency  will  he  provide 
to  sweeten  and  elevate  the  family  before  it  can  achieve  its  high 
and  proper  moral  mission  to  the  world  ?  Has  God,  Who  made  man 
a  living  soul,  forgotten  to  provide  an  environment,  an  atmosphere, 
a  standard  and  a  city,  visible  to  all  the  world,  where  man  may 
freely  choose  to  live  and  lead  the  higher  life? 

Urbs   Jerusalem   beata, 

Dicta  pacis  visio 
Nova  veniens  e  coelo 

Nuptiali  thalamo 
Plateae  et  muri  ejus 

Ex  auro  purissimo. 

THE  DISTRIBUTION  OF  INCOMES  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

By  Frank  Hatch  Streightoff,  M.A.      (Studies  in  History,  Eco- 
nomics, and  Public  Law.     Edited  by  the  Faculty  of  Political 
Science  of  Columbia  University.)     New  York :  Columbia  Uni- 
versity.    Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  Agents. 
Following  up  a  line  of  investigation  in  which  he  has  already 
achieved  both  success  and  reputation,  Mr.  Streightoff  now  publishes 
a  valuable  monograph  on  the  Distribution  of  Incomes  in  the  United 
States.     In  the  opening  pages  he  discusses  the  question  of  what 
statistics  are  available  and  desirable,  and  his  characteristically  clear 
style  makes  his  study  especially  useful  to  the  amateur.     The  ob- 
jective and  painstaking  nature  of  all  his  work  promises  many 
helpful    contributions    from    him    in    the    field    that    is    coming 
to  be  associated  with  his  name.     It  is  a  field  which  is  becoming 
yearly  more  important,  in  view  of  the  present  tendency  of  legisla- 
tion to  concern  itself  with  private  incomes  as  matter  of  public 
interest.     The  author's  complaint — and  indeed  demonstration — that 
the  available  information  is  deplorably  insufficient,  will  help  to 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  549 

further  the  movement  for  more  scientific  and  practical  work  on  the 
part  of  statistical  bureaus. 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  is  this :  "  Knowledge  of  the  dis- 
tribution of  incomes  is  vital  to  sane  legislative  direction  of  progress. 
In  a  form  definite  enough  for  practical  use,  this  knowledge  does 
not  exist.  No  time  should  be  wasted  in  obtaining  this  knowledge." 

The  writer  has  performed  a  useful  piece  of  work  clearly  and 
thoroughly. 

ALMA  MATER,  OR  THE  GEORGETOWN  CENTENNIAL,  AND 

OTHER  DRAMAS.     By  M.   S.   Pine.     Washington,  D.  C. : 

Georgetown  Visitation  Convent.     $1.15. 

This  elegantly  printed  and  bound  book  of  school  plays  is 
offered  to  the  public  with  every  right  to  favorable  consideration. 
There  are  eight  dramas,  all  of  which  have  been  acted,  revised,  and 
perfected.  They  each  and  all  won  much  applause  from  the  varied 
audiences  which  attend  college  celebrations.  The  religious  tone 
running  through  them  only  enhances  their  dominating  romantic 
spirit.  They  are  pleasant,  workable,  easily-prepared  entertain- 
ments; never  wearisome;  sometimes  of  thrilling  interest. 

Such  means  of  profitable  relaxation  can  never  be  dispensed 
with,  however  rudely  jostled  by  the  bizarre  contrivances  some- 
times intruded  upon  visitors  to  the  more  important  academic  occa- 
sions. Taste  is  purified,  sentiment  is  directed  into  nobler  channels, 
the  eye  is  pleased  and  the  ear  charmed,  whilst  the  intelligence  is 
cultivated. 

We  earnestly  recommend  these  dramas  to  all  who  would 
show  our  young  ladies  how  true  life  is  when  inspired  by  bright 
and  spiritual  ideals. 

THE  CATECHIST'S  MANUAL.  By  the  Brothers  of  the  Christian 
Schools.  Philadelphia:  John  Joseph  McVey.  75  cents. 
This  volume  contains  a  well- written  exposition  of  the  various 
methods  of  teaching  Christian  doctrine,  a  book  that  should  be  of 
great  service  to  all  who  aim  at  being  competent  catechists.  The 
methods  are  treated  concisely  and  clearly,  both  from  the  view- 
point of  teacher  and  pupil,  and  embody  many  valuable  suggestions. 
Pupils  mentally  deficient,  or  slow  of  comprehension,  the  dread  of 
all  inexperienced  teachers,  and  frequently  of  experienced  teachers 
as  well,  need  a  specially  adapted  course  of  instruction.  Several 
methods  of  treating  such  cases  have  been  carefully  outlined.  It 


550  NEW  BOOKS  [July, 

is  a  timely  and  much-needed  book,  and  has  the  hearty  endorsement 
of  His  Holiness  Pius  X. 

MIZRAIM;    SOUVENIRS    OF    EGYPT.     By    Godefroid    Kurth. 

Paris:    Pierre  Tequi. 

Mizraim  is  not  a  mere  Baedeker  guide  book,  but  a  scholar's 
literary  account  of  a  vacation  trip  made  through  the  chief  cities  of 
Egypt — Cairo,  Memphis,  Luxor,  Karnak,  etc.  We  are  entertained 
with  brief  but  accurate  estimate  of  Egyptian  art;  we  learn  a  good 
deal  of  quaint  Egyptian  history;  we  traverse  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  Museum  of  Cairo,  and  wander  through  the  intricate  passages 
of  the  temples  of  Luxor  and  Karnak,  we  enjoy  an  extended  trip 
along  the  Nile.  Ever  and  always  our  guide  is  declaiming  against 
the  modern  cult  of  the  ugly,  and  comparing  the  despair  and  mo- 
notony of  pagan  civilization  with  the  hopefulness  and  progress 
of  the  Christian.  Altogether  it  is  a  most  entertaining  and  sug- 
gestive volume. 

A  WHITE-HANDED  SAINT.  By  Olive  Katharine  Parr.  Lon- 
don: R.  &  T.  Washbourne.  $1.25  net. 
The  author  of  Back  Slum  Idylls  and  A  Red-Handed  Saint 
attracted,  especially  by  the  latter,  much  attention  and  much  praise. 
Her  latest  story  is  called  A  White-Handed  Saint,  and  instead  of 
a  murderess  led  back  to  grace  and  developed  almost  into  saintliness, 
as  in  the  story  parallel  in  name,  we  find  in  its  pages  a  character 
of  an  innocence  never  stained  by  sin — a  mystic  of  a  very  high 
type.  On  the  day  after  his  ordination,  and  before  the  anticipated 
first  Mass,  Percivale  Douglas  was  hurt  in  a  railroad  accident,  and 
his  right  arm  suffered  paralysis.  Deprived  thus  cruelly  of  his 
dearest  hope,  he  worked  bravely  in  his  poverty  and  physical  help- 
lessness to  further  his  ambition  of  building  a  tiny  chapel  in  honor 
of  Our  Lady.  And  his  reward,  though  slow  in  coming,  was 
"  exceeding  great."  His  soul  is  revealed  very  tenderly  and  beau- 
tifully by  the  young  girl  who  is  the  story-teller.  Her  own  con- 
version to  the  Church,  through  the  medium  of  the  "  white-handed 
saint,"  and  her  love-story  form  the  other  half  of  the  book. 

The  author  chose  a  theme  whose  delicacy  and  fragile  beauty 
made  it  difficult  in  the  extreme;  the  soul  of  a  mystic  does  not  fall 
easily  into  twentieth  century  phrases.  But  she  has  succeeded  sur- 
prisingly well.  The  most  obvious  criticism  is  that  her  touch  is  very, 
very  feminine,  but  to  some  readers  that  will  be  a  charm,  and  to 
fdw,  perhaps,  a  defect. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  551 

T^HREE  small  volumes  —  companions  in  external  appearance,  in 
-*•  devotional  character,  and  in  the  previous  history  of  their  con- 
tents —  have  been  published  recently  by  the  Apostleship  of  Prayer. 
Father  O'Rourke's  Fountains  of  the  Saviour  is  a  series  of  sixteen 
studies  of  the  Beatitudes,  the  example  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  the 
visits  of  our  Lord  to  the  home  of  Martha  and  Mary  at  Bethany. 

The  King's  Table,  by  Father  Dwight,  sets  forth  in  short,  devo- 
tional conferences,  the  necessity  and  fruit  fulness  of  receiving  Holy 
Communion  frequently. 

In  his  Heart  of  Revelation,  Father  Donnelly  describes  different 
traits  and  tendencies  of  humanity  —  sadness,  generosity,  patience, 
contentment,  etc.  —  as  they  were  manifested  for  our  instruction  and 
encouragement  in  the  Heart  of  Christ.  All  three  books  are  de- 
cidedly instructive  and  edifying.  Price,  56  cents,  postpaid. 

A  HUNDREDFOLD  is  a  simple,  pretty  little  story,  signed  only 
*"*'  as  by  the  author  of  From  a  Garden  Jungle.  (New  York: 
Benziger  Brothers.  75  cents  net.)  The  first  half  of  the  book 
is  located  in  Belgium,  but  with  the  homeward  return  of  the  heroine, 
the  scene  changes  to  England.  The  will-finding,  heir-thwarting 
theme,  buried  long  ago  with  hoop  skirts,  bobs  up  again  serenely, 
but  since  it  is  woven  into  a  pleasant  story,  no  one  need  object. 

rPHE  ROAD  OF  LIVING  MEN  is  the  latest  book  by  Will  Lev- 
•*•  ington  Comfort.  (Philadelphia:  J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.  $1.25 
net.)  It  is  a  story  of  romance  and  adventure,  and  again  romance, 
told  in  the  author's  quite  individual  style.  Incidentally  it  gives 
an  intimate  picture  of  China  and  the  Chinese. 


title,  Eucharistic  Lilies,  or  Youthful  Lovers  of  Jesus  in  the 
Blessed  Sacrament,  is  given  to  a  little  book  by  Helen  Maery. 
(New  York:  Benziger  Brothers.  $1.00.)  It  includes,  among 
others,  the  stories  of  Tarciscius,  of  Blessed  Imelda,  and  of  the 
Little  Flower  of  Jesus.  Written  clearly  and  simply,  it  will  serve 
admirably  as  a  help  and  inspiration  to  children  preparing  for 
their  First  Communion. 

1U  EMORY  AND  THE  EXECUTIVE  MIND,  by  Arthur  Ray- 
?•*•*  mond  Robinson  (Chicago:  M.  A.  Donahue  Co.  $1.50  net), 
is  an  earnest  little  book,  showing  throughout  a  high  purpose  on  the 
part  of  the  author.  He  dwells  on  the  importance  of  memory  as  a 
faculty,  and  the  need  of  its  greater  development  among  men  who 
would  wish  to  cultivate  "  the  executive  mind." 


periobfcals. 


The  Social  Value  of  Frequent  Communion.     By  Father  Her- 
bert Lucas,  SJ.     In  a  paper  read  before  the  Annual  Conference  of 
the  Catholic  Young  Men's  Societies  of  Great  Britain,  Father  Lucas 
considered  the  existence  of  evils  and  abuses  in  the  social  and  indus- 
trial world;  the  duty  of  Catholics  to  promote  remedial  measures; 
the  fact  that  opportunities  to  fulfill  this  duty  are  only  occasional, 
and  that  the  best  possible  remedial  measures,  even  if  properly  en- 
forced, can  only  palliate  or  mitigate  the  evils.     Therefore  he  rea- 
sons that  the  best  positive  contribution  to  the  cause  is  the  example 
of  a  fervent  Catholic  life,  and  the  most  efficacious  means  to  help 
us  set  this  example  is  the  practice  of  very  frequent,  and,  if  possible, 
daily  Communion.     He  places  human  selfishness  at  the  root  of  the 
evils  and  abuses,  and  this  cannot  be  eradicated  by  human  legislation, 
since  selfishness  can  always  evade  law.     Modern  society  needs  leav- 
ening.    It  needs  the  practical  example  of  fervent  Catholic  lives 
to  raise  it  above  the  plane  of  present-day  individualism,  and  dem- 
onstrate practically  the  value  of  sacrifice  and  virtue.     Taking  Jesus 
Christ  as   the  examplar,    Father   Lucas   directs   attention  to  the 
fact  that  He  did  not  play  the  part,  ostensibly,  of  a  social  reformer, 
but  He  set  a  supremely  perfect  example  of  a  flawless  domestic  life; 
of  an  utterly  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  moral  reformation,  dog- 
matic teaching  and  works  of  mercy,  and  of  an  uncompromising 
fidelity  to  truth  at  the  cost  of  cruel  suffering  and  ignominious  death. 
His  example  and  His  influence  have  nevertheless  been  the  cause  of 
all  the  best  "  social  work  "  for  the  last  nineteen  hundred  years. 
This  conclusion  Father  Lucas  emphasizes  with  comparison  between 
mediaeval  and  modern  labor  conditions,  the  one  communal,  the  other 
individual.     He  then  considers  the  value  of  good  example;  how  its 
work  is  hidden;  how  following  the  one  thing  necessary,  as  did 
Mary  in  contradistinction  to  Martha,  brings  about  the  happiest 
results.     The  society  of  to-day  tends  pagan- ward.     The  proverbial 
good  example  and  standing  of  a  Catholic  employer  or  employees 
exerts  an  influence  powerful  out  of  all  proportion  to  their  numerical 
strength.     If  fervent  Catholic  lives  must  be  the  leaven  of  society, 
so  th,e  Body  and  Blood  of  the  Savior  must  be  the  leaven  of  Catholic 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  553 

lives.  It  is  the  Sacrament  of  purity;  of  remembrance,  calling  to 
mind  the  sacrificial  quality  of  the  true  Christian  life;  and  of  union 
with  our  Lord  and  Savior  in  the  fullness  of  His  Humanity  and 
Divinity.— The  Tablet,  May  24. 

The  Missions  of  China.  By  A.  Hilliard  Atteridge.  The  proc- 
lamation of  the  new  Chinese  Republic  was  accompanied  by  an  as- 
surance that  the  new  regime  would  not  only  tolerate  but  welcome 
and  protect  the  missions;  moreover,  the  President  has  shown  his 
attitude  toward  foreigners  by  inviting  Dr.  Morrison  Hart  to  act 
as  his  official  adviser.  The  Prime  Minister  is  a  Catholic,  con- 
verted by  his  Belgian  wife.  The  Christians  were  asked  to  make  the 
last  Sunday  of  April  a  day  of  special  prayer  for  the  prosperity 
and  progress  of  the  nation,  an  official  act  completely  abandoning 
the  old  attitude  of  professed  friendship  and  secret  hostility  towards 
the  missions ;  this  proclamation  is,  therefore,  not  unworthy  of  com- 
parison with  the  Peace  Edict  of  Constantine.  About  twenty  thou- 
sand non-Catholics,  of  different  faiths  and  standards  of  member- 
ship, are  at  work,  and  they  claim  some  324,890  followers.  This 
number  is  smaller  than  the  number  of  Catholics  in  the  single  prov- 
ince of  Chi-li.  At  the  close  of  1911  there  were  in  China,  1,3.63,697 
baptized  Catholics,  with  390,985  catechumens  under  instruction  or 
awaiting  baptism.  These  were  grouped  in  forty-seven  missionary 
dioceses  or  vicariates.  There  were  forty-nine  Bishops,  1,426  Euro- 
pean and  701  Chinese  priests,  and  1,215  Chinese  students  for  the 
priesthood.  Out  of  1,896  nuns,  1,328  were  Chinese.  In  Chi-li 
there  are  families  that  have  been  Catholic  for  centuries.  The  prin- 
cipal communities  of  missionaries  are  the  Lazarists,  Franciscans, 
Jesuits,  and  the  Society  for  Foreign  Missions,  though  many  others 
are  represented.  Thirty  years  ago  the  baptized  Catholics  of  China 
numbered  only  470,000.  The  great  need  now  is  for  English-speak- 
ing priests. — The  Month,  June. 

Suarez  and  Civil  Authority.  By  Gaston  Sortais.  According 
to  Suarez,  civil  authority  is  from  God,  and  is  conferred  directly 
upon  the  people.  They  can  reserve  this  power  for  themselves,  as 
in  a  democracy,  or  transfer  it  to  a  single  person  or  group  of  per- 
sons, as  in  a  monarchy  or  an  aristocracy.  But  when  once  they  have 
made  this  transfer,  they  have  no  longer  the  right  to  recall  the 
authority  outside  conditions  stipulated  in  the  original  pact,  unless 
the  sovereign  turns  to  his  own  personal  profit  what  was  intended 


554  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [July, 

for  the  common  good.  Was  this  system  of  mediated  divine  right 
condemned  by  Pope  Pius'  recent  letter  against  Le  Sillon,  in  which 
he  quotes  from  the  Diuturnum  Illud  of  Leo  XIII.  a  condemnation 
of  the  view  that  all  power  comes  from  the  people,  and  that  sov- 
ereigns act  only  as  delegates?  No,  because  Pope  Leo  evidently 
did  not  intend  to  condemn  a  system  supported  by  such  great  au- 
thorities by  a  mere  passing  phrase;  because  he  did  not  use  either 
of  the  terms,  mediate  or  immediate,  on  which  the  controversy  is 
based;  and  because  he  was  concerned  only  with  vindicating  the 
Divine  origin  of  civil  authority  against  the  so-called  philosophers 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  view  of  Suarez  remains  one  which 
a  Catholic  may  defend.  Nevertheless  his  assertion  that  the  people 
are  the  prime  source  of  power  has  to  meet  the  serious  objection,  that 
since  the  people  must  confer  it  upon  some  one  to  exercise  it  in  their 
stead,  it  seems  strange  that  God  should  give  to  them  a  power  so  pre- 
carious, a  prerogative  whose  full  use  is  almost  always  impracticable. 
— Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique,  May  i. 

Liberal  Judaism.  By  L.  Cl.  Fillion.  Liberal  Judaism,  as 
seen  in  the  writings  of  Claude  G.  Montefiore,  is  related  to  ortho- 
dox Judaism  much  as  modernism  is  to  Catholicism.  It  denies  the 
historicity  of  the  facts  of  Genesis;  the  revelation  of  the  Law 
through  Moses ;  the  Mosaic  authorship  of  the  Pentateuch ;  the  credi- 
bility of  Old  Testament  miracles;  the  present  binding  force  of  the 
laws  regarding  unclean  meats.  It  would  replace  Hebrew  by  the 
popular  language  in  religious  ceremonies;  introduce  organs  into 
synagogues;  allow  the  men  to  keep  their  heads  uncovered,  and  the 
women  to  mingle  freely  in  the  body  of  the  building.  It  holds 
strongly  to  the  inviolability  of  the  Sabbath,  and  celebrates  the 
usual  orthodox  feasts.  Upon  social  effort  it  lays  great  stress. 
The  Bible,  it  says,  has  in  ,all  its  parts  dross  mingled  with  its  gold. 
Liberal  Judaism  does  not  believe  in  a  personal  Messiah,  nor  in  the 
Incarnation,  nor  Redemption,  either  past  or  to  come,  but  in  the  per- 
petual; endless,  and  universal  progress  of  humanity.  In  this  evo- 
lution the  special  role  of  Judaism  is  to  preserve  undefiled  the  mon- 
otheistic idea;  the  "imperfections"  of  Christianity  and  other  re- 
ligions are  to  be  swept  aside  by  liberal  Judaism.  Mr.  Montefiore 
presents  our  Lord  in  a  very  sympathetic  light,  though  regarding 
Him  merely  as  a  man,  and  this  admiring  attitude  has  subjected  him 
to  severe  criticism  from  orthodox  Jews. — Revue  Pratique  d'Apolo- 
getique, April  13. 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  555 

Does  the  Church  Grant  Divorce?  By  B.  Sienne.  To  recog- 
nize that  a  marriage  was  null  from  the  beginning  is  in  no  sense  the 
same  as  granting  a  divorce.  This  declaration  of  nullity  is  rather 
a  proof  of  the  Church's  regard  for  the  sanctity  of  marriage.  The 
ground  for  the  declaration  of  nullity  in  the  Castellane-Gould  mar- 
riage was  the  fact  of  its  being  entered  into  as  something  revocable 
at  will.  An  essential  element  of  a  true  marriage  was,  therefore, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Church,  lacking.  As  is  well  known,  the  judges 'of 
the  Rota  act  in  threes.  The  decision  of  the  first  terna  was  against 
the  declaration  of  nullity;  that  of  the  second  in  favor  of  it.  The 
decision  of  the  third  group  will  be  definitive.  Such  trials  are  not 
reserved  only  for  the  rich.  On  the  contrary,  the  canon  law  guar- 
antees them  as  a  right,  and,  in  case  of  necessity,  without  any  ex- 
pense whatever,  to  the  poor.  One  of  the  first  cases  to  be  settled  by 
the  Rota  was  precisely  of  this  kind. — Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais, 
April  15. 

The  Gelasian  Decree.  Herr  von  Dobschutz,  after  a  careful 
study  of  the  famous  decree  of  Gelasius,  comes  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  five  parts  of  the  decree  constitute  an  indivisible  whole,  whose 
date  is  not  earlier  than  Gelasius  (492-496),  nor  later  than  Hormis- 
das  (514-523).  Moreover,  he  considers  the  document  as  the  work 
of  some  private  student  of  the  first  years  of  the  sixth  century. 
D.  J.  Chapman,  however,  does  not  entirely  agree  with  these  con- 
clusions. In  the  present  article,  he  endeavors  to  demonstrate  that 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  document,  as  we  now  possess  it,  shows 
apparent  unity,  it  really  had  a  twofold  origin.  He  believes  that 
positive  reasons,  internal  and  external,  support  the  evidence  of 
those  manuscripts  that  attribute  the  document  conjointly  to  Hormis- 
das,  Gelasius,  and  Damasus.  He  agrees  with  von  Dobschiitz  that 
the  date  of  the  document  is  earlier  that  Hormisdas,  and  prefers 
a  Gelasian  origin. — Revue  Benedictine,  April. 

The  Tablet  (May  17)  :  The  Bishop  of  Manchester's  Protest: 
From  the  protest  of  the  Bishop  against  the  marriage  law  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  because  it  does  not  coincide  with  the  civil  law, 
this  article  shows  that  he  does  not  hold  the  "  continuity  "  theory 
of  the  Anglican  Church.  Concrete  evidence  is  also  given  that  the 

Liberal  party  holds  the  same  position  as  the  Bishop. Congress 

of  Benedictine  Abbots:  The  Abbot  of  Downside  writes  on  the  Con- 
gress held  at  Monte  Cassino  in  May  to  elect  a  coadjutor  to  the  pres- 


556  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [July, 

ent  aged  Abbot  Primate,  who,  by  special  appointment  of  Pope  Leo 
XIIL,  holds  the  office  for  life,  as  "  the  greatest  meeting  of  Benedic- 
tine Abbots  since  mediaeval  times." Sedgley  Park  gives  at  length 

the  varied  history  of  this  school  founded  by  Bishop  Challoner,  now 
celebrating  its  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary.  An  account 
of  the  festivities  in  connection  with  the  celebration  is  found  in  the 
May  24th  issue. 

(May  24)  :  The  Way  of  Unity — A  Modern  Instance:  Father 
McNabb,  O.P.,  cites  the  case  of  the  Caldey  Benedictines  to  show 
that  he  who  takes  up  any  line  of  the  spiritual  life  whole-heartedly 
must,  sooner  or  later,  whether  he  will  or  no,  come  to  Rome.  The 
Caldey  monks  attempted  to  live  the  essential  life  of  the  Church 
while  not  belonging  to  its  organization;  they  were  not  interested 
in  controversy;  they  were  purely  contemplative:  praying,  fasting, 
laboring  for  God's  glory  and  their  fellowmen,  yet  they  found  that 
they  must  fall  back  on  "  the  strictly  Papal  basis  of  authority." 
Father  McNabb  concludes  with  the  statement  that  "  if  the  claims 
of  Peter  are  true,  they  must  be  supremely  true." 

(May  31)  :  The  Hope  for  Peace:  The  Powers  have  insisted 
that  peace  negotiations  between  the  Balkan  Allies  and  the  Turks 
be  speedily  concluded.  It  is  expected  that,  if  Russia  does  not  under- 
take the  task  alone,  the  Powers  will  force  a  settlement  of  the  ques- 
tions the  Allies  are  disputing  among  themselves. Arma  Vir- 

umque:  France  is  reaping  the  harvest  of  her  campaign  against 
religion  in  a  failing  of  army  enlistments  due  to  decrease  of  popu- 
lation, and  in  anarchistic  upheavals  in  the  army.  Still  the  cam- 
paign proceeds.  Measures  are  contemplated  to  drive  out  religion 
by  compelling  attendance  at  lay  schools,  where  religion  is  made  the 

"  butt  of  ridicule  and  insult." Comment  in  "  Notes  "  is  made  on 

the  declaration  of  the  Italian  Ministers  in  the  Senate  to  the  effect 
that  Freemasonry  should  be  rooted  from  the  army  and  navy  be- 
cause it  is  fatal  to  military  discipline.  The  Italian  Press  concur 
in  this  opinion.  The  Roman  Correspondent  also  treats  this  subject. 

The  National  Review  (June)  :  The  Earl  Percy  writes  very 
strongly  against  The  Voluntary  System,  in  military  service.  He 

reviews  history  to  show  its  ineffectiveness. National  Service 

Ideals  is  two  addresses  by  Field  Marshal  Earl  Roberts  in  defence 

of  a  proposed  law  that  would  create  a  citizen  army  in  England. 

The  Future  of  the  Balkan  Alliance  speaks  in  a  disheartening  way  of 
the  chances  for  peace  in  the  Balkan  Peninsula.  A  fresh  Balkan 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  557 

war,  thinks  the  writer,  might  be  a  blessing  in  disguise,  as  it  would 
clear  the  atmosphere,  and  settle  for  some  time  the  sore  problem  of 

Balkan  hegemony. Frank  Fox,  who  ought  to  know  because  he 

worked  in  the  Balkan  War,  says  that  the  day  of  the  war  correspond- 
ent has  gone.  Owing  to  conditions  imposed  by  the  belligerents, 
his  work  is  no  longer  possible. 

Le  Correspondant  (June  10)  :  J.  Per  itch  reviews  the  different 
stages  through  which  the  question  of  war  in  the  East  passed  before 
the  Balkan  War  actually  occurred,  and  discusses  the  plans  for  the 
future  from  the  Servian  point  of  view. The  origin  and  cultiva- 
tion of  art  in  the  East,  particularly  in  Greece,  Assyria,  and  Egypt, 

is  treated  by  R.  P.  Lagrange. Maurice  Vaussard  sketches  the 

life  of  Contardo  Ferrini,  the  Italian  Ozanam.  Sometime  profes- 
sor at  the  University  of  Paria,  Ferrini  cultivated  every  branch  of 
knowledge,  yet  remained  the  model  of  humility  and  piety.  He 
was  born  in  Milan  in  1859  and  died  in  Palestine  in  1902.  The 
process  for  his  canonization  was  begun  in  1910. The  dilettan- 
tism of  Ernest  Renan  and  his  successor,  M.  Anatole  France,  forms 
the  subject  of  an  article  by  G.  Michant. 

Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais  (April  15)  :  J.  Bricout  continues 
his  exposition  of  the  meaning  of  the  Syllabus  of  Pius  IX.,  showing 

how  Leo  XIII.  and  Pius  X.  reproducers  teaching. Eugene 

Evrard  writes  on  Present  Day  Literature  as  typified  in  new  books 
by  Maurice  Barres,  Rene  Bazin,  Pierre  Loti,  and  Adolfpe  Rette. 

/.  K.  Huysmans,  by  L.  Laurec.     As  Gustave  Coquiot's  recent 

study  shows,  Huysmans  was  a  recluse,  egoistic  and  pessimistic;  for 
thirty-two  years  a  most  regular,  exact,  and  zealous  official  under 
the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  at  which  time  he  wrote  several  of  his 
books.  He  was  unappreciative  of  the  classic  masters,  Racine, 
Corneille,  Moliere,  Dante,  Goethe,  Schiller.  Touched  by  Cathol- 
icism on  his  vulnerable  point,  the  love  of  art,  he  was  driven  to  her 
bosom  by  disappointment  with  himself. 

Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique  (May  i)  :  E.  Maugenot  begins 
an  examination  and  criticism  of  the  views  of  M.  Reitzenstein  as  to 

the  influence  of  the  pagan  mysteries  upon  St.   Paul. Charles 

Pellet  contributes  extracts  from  a  new  volume  on  Lourdes  by  the 
Danish  convert,  Jorgensen. The  Report  of  the  Society  of  For- 
eign Missions  for  1912  shows  that  it  is  exercising  an  apostolate  in 


558 


FOREIGN  PERIODICALS 


[July, 


thirty- four  missions  of  the  Far  East  among  1,548,576  Catholics, 
30,000  more  than  in  1911.  It  employs  the  services  of  1,200  mis- 
sionaries and  800  native  priests. 

( May  15):  Stoicism  and  Christianity,  by  J.  Calvet.  From  the 
years  1550  to  1650  moral  treatises,  tragedies, even  sermons  in  France 
breathed  the  spirit  of  Stoicism  rather  than  of  Christianity.  Hu- 
mility and  resignation  were  out  of  date;  hope  of  indefinite  progress, 
a  victorious  and  active  self-confidence  suited  the  new  age  better. 
In  Montaigne  the  man  and  the  Christian  try  to  live  apart.  Pierre 
Charron  wrote  an  essay  on  The  Three  Truths  to  prove  the  necessity 
of  a  natural  religion,  the  reality  of  revelation,  and  the  truth  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  But  though  a  priest,  a  friend  of  Bishops  Com- 
dom  and  Cahors,  he  was  also  Montaigne's  friend;  the  author  of 
Wisdom,  a  treatise  which  so  exalted  the  powers  of  man  apart  from 
grace  as  practically  to  make  grace  useless. 

(June  i)  :  Dr.  de  Grandmaison  de  Bruno  proves  that  the 
visions  of  Bernadette  Soubirous  were  not  of  the  nature  of  hallu- 
cinations. The  supernatural  element  at  Lourdes  is  further  em- 
phasized by  the  appearance  of  the  miraculous  spring,  the  physical 
cures,  the  miracles  of  grace  and  of  charity,  and  the  failure  of  search- 
ing criticism  to  relegate  Lourdes  to  its  former  obscurity. 

Etudes  (May)  :  Cottolengo:  The  little  town  of  Cottolengo 
in  the  environs  of  Turin  bears  the  name  of  the  Venerable  Joseph 
Cottolengo,  who  founded  there  the  "  Little  House  of  Divine  Prov- 
idence/' probably  the  largest  hospital  in  the  world.  Around  this 
institution,  called  by  Pius  IX.  "  la  maison  du  miracle,"  grew  up  a 
city,  a  city  of  charity.  Its  seven  thousand  inhabitants  are  divided 
into  thirty-four  "  families,"  fourteen  of  which  are  religious,  who 
have  come  there  to  carry  on  the  work  of  devotion  so  humbly  begun 

by    Canon    Cottolengo. The   Primitive   Canon   of    the   Mass: 

By  a  comparative  study  of  the  various  liturgical  texts,  the  author 
arrives  at  the  probable  text  of  the  second  or,  possibly,  even  of  the 

first  century. The  Heart  of  Mary,  Singular  Vessel  of  Devotion, 

by  Jean  Bainvel,  defines  devotion,  and  shows  the  exceptional  and 
perfect  character  of  the  Blessed  Virgin's  devotion  from  the  first 
moment  of  her  existence. 

Etudes  Franciscaines  (June)  :  S.  Belmond  opens  an  exposition 
of  the  arguments  of  St.  Bonaventure  against  the  theory  that  the 
worjd  is  eternal,  or  was  created  from  eternity,  which  Aristotle 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  559 

and  St.  Thomas  thought  possible. P.  Dieudonne  contributes  an 

exhaustive  analysis  of  two  essays,  one  dogmatic,  one  historical,  by 

Louis  Caperan  on  the  problem  of  the  salvation  of  unbelievers. 

England  in  India:  P.  Symphorien  tells  of  the  effects  on  the  natives 
of  the  educational  facilities  provided  by  the  English  Government 
in  Bengal;  the  consequent  division  of  the  province;  the  change  of 
capital  announced  by  George  V.  at  the  Durbar  last  year,  and  the 
blessing  of  the  banners  of  the  "  Connaught  Rangers  "  by  the  Catho- 
lic Archbishop  of  Agra  on  that  occasion. 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  ( April  i )  :  The  Centenary  of  Fred- 
erick Ozanam,  by  M.  Rene  Doumic  dwells  chiefly  on  his  literary 

work  and  its  influence  on  the  thought  of  the  day. A  series  of 

articles  on  St.  Augustine  is  begun  in  this  number.  The  first  one 

deals  with  his  childhood. Mme.  de  Stael,  her  salon  and  her 

relations  with  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  are  discussed  by  the  Conte 
d'Haussonville. 

(May  15)  :  In  A  French  House,  Louis  Madelin,  gives  the 
history  of  the  valiant  de  Vogue  family,  which  since  the  eleventh 
century  has  consistently  shared  the  fortunes  of  France,  and 

sacrificed  everything  for  God  and  their  country. The  Salons  of 

1913  and  the  Salon  Which  is  Needed  is  an  able  critique  of  modern 
art,  though  the  writer,  Robert  de  la  Sizeranne,  makes  the  unwar- 
ranted statement  that  neither  the  United  States  nor  Switzerland 
has  ever  produced  an  artistic  genius.  His  argument  being  that 
"  Art "  is  impossible  in  so-called  free  countries. 


IRecent  Events. 

When   the   Briand   government  before   its 
France.  defeat  proposed  to  increase  the  term  of  serv- 

ice in  the  army  from  two  to  three  years, 

it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  of  France  without  distinction  of  party 
or  class  would  accept  the  proposal.  Opposition,  however,  sub- 
sequently developed,  not  only  on  the  part  of  the  Collective  Social- 
ists, but  also  from  among  the  Radicals,  who  are  supporters  of  M. 
Barthou's  ministry.  When  the  further  step  was  taken  of  keeping 
in  active  service  for  a  longer  term  the  men  whose  two  years 
was  on  the  point  of  expiring,  the  opposition  took  the  form  of  some- 
thing like  a  military  revolt.  Soldiers  in  garrisons  on  the  frontier, 
as  well  as  in  Paris,  made  public  demonstrations  against  this  un- 
expected addition  to  their  burden.  They  were  willing  to  fight, 
but  objected  to  being  kept  idling  in  barracks.  This  movement 
affected,  however,  a  very  small  minority  of  the  soldiers.  It  is 
attributed  in  part  to  the  propagation  of  anti-militarist  doctrines  by 
the  notorious  Confederation  of  Labor,  in  part  to  an  Anarchist 
propaganda.  The  government  has  seized  upon  large  quantities 
of  literature  destined  to  be  circulated  among  the  soldiers.  On  the 
other  hand,  opponents  of  the  new  President,  such  as  M.  Clemenceau, 
have  assured  him  of  their  determination  to  give  whole-hearted 
support  to  the  government's  proposals.  Certain  modifications  have 
been  made  to  lighten  the  burden  which  the  increase  of  that  term  of 
service  will  impose:  for  example,  when  a  unit  has  attained  to  the 
fixed  and  determined  strength,  those  beyond  that  number  will  be 
allowed  to  return  home.  But  the  government  will  not  admit  any 
substantial  change  in  its  proposals. 

It  is  frankly  recognized  that  it  is  beyond  the  power  of  France 
to  have  an  army  equal  in  numbers  to  that  of  Germany.  There  are 
conflicting  statements  as  to  the  respective  numbers  of  the  two 
armies,  but  the  most  reliable  statistics  give  to  Germany  a  peace 
force  of  681,000  men,  whereas  France  has  only  486,000.  The 
difference  between  the  peace  strengths  is  thus  195,000  men.  Ger- 
many, moreover,  has  a  population  of  some  sixty-five  millions,  which 
is  increasing  with  normal  rapidity,  whereas  France  has  only  some 
forty  millions,  and  this  is  not  increasing  at  all.  The  only  hope, 
therefore,  for  success  in  a  conflict  with  Germany  is  based  upon 
such  a  better  training  of  its  soldiers  as  will  be  given  by  the  longer 
service. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  561 

France's  weakness  is  largely  due  to  the  diminution  of  its 
birth-rate.  This  is  recognized  by  the  recent  appointment  of  a 
commission  to  study  the  question,  and  to  propose  remedies.  M. 
Bourgeois,  who  is  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  wise  men  of  the 
country,  has  pointed  to  this  diminution  as  one  of  the  two  great 
disasters  which  threaten  the  future,  in  fact  as  the  cause  of  the  other 
of  the  two — the  danger  from  the  foreign  enemy.  A  century  ago, 
France  within  her  present  frontiers  contained  sixteen  per  cent  of 
the  population  of  Europe;  to-day  she  has  only  nine  per  cent  of  that 
population.  Yet  the  French  abroad,  in  Canada  and  Algeria,  in- 
crease more  rapidly  than  any  of  the  races  that  are  their  neighbors. 
The  death-rate,  too,  is  greater  in  France  than  in  Germany  or 
England.  Legislation,  M.  Bourgeois  declared,  could  furnish  no 
adequate  remedy :  a  moral  crusade  was  necessary,  the  motive  power 
of  which  should  be  the  defence  of  their  country. 

M.  Ribot,  another  very  eminent  statesman,  takes  an  even 
darker  view  of  the  situation.  "  The  country,"  he  says,  "  is  sick, 
and  it  ought  to  be  proclaimed  aloud.  Alcoholism,  tuberculosis,  and 
the  lack  of  an  intelligent  hygiene  are  decimating  our  country.  The 
people  must  be  informed  of  the  peril  by  which  it  is  menaced.  All 
the  efforts  of  the  legislature  and  the  government  must  be  concen- 
trated upon  grappling  with  this  peril/' 

As  an  offset  to  these  dark  pictures  it  may  be  worthy  of  men- 
tion that  Father  Bernard  Vaughan,  who  has  recently  been  paying 
a  visit  to  France,  declares  that  the  Separation  Law  has  proved  one 
of  the  very  greatest  of  the  blessings  bestowed  on  the  Church  in 
France  during  the  past  one  hundred  years.  It  has  given  freedom 
to  the  clergy  to  take  a  part  in  social  and  philanthropic  movements ; 
a  freedom  of  which  they  are  taking  full  advantage. 

Some  degree  of  alarm  is  being  felt  at  the  spread  of  the  taste 
for  gamblingfthroughout  the  country.  The  national  code  of  ethics 
in  France  does  not  forbid  the  State's  deriving  part  of  its  income 
from  the  receipts  of  gaming  tables.  One  hundred  and  forty-seven 
watering-places  have  authorized  gambling  houses  which  pay  to 
the  government  a  part  of  their  receipts.  Two  hundred  millions 
a  year  are  said  to  be  staked  at  these  places  of  entertainment. 
Theoretically  it  is  recognized  by  all  that  this  is  a  great  social  evil, 
but  neither  the  government  nor  the  watering-places  are  prepared  to 
make  the  sacrifice  involved  in  their  suppression.  As  a  step  towards 
remedying  the  evil,  the  government  has  introduced  a  bill  to 
enable  it  to  collect  an  increased  tax  upon  the  net  takings,  ranging 

VOL.  XCVII. — 36 


562  RECENT  EVENTS  [July, 

from  fifteen  per  cent  to  forty-five  per  cent,  according  to  their 
amount.  Any  more  drastic  measure,  it  is  said,  would  only  result  in 
sending  people  to  Monte  Carlo. 

Another  of  the  evils  affecting  the  French  nation  is  the  fre- 
quency of  duels.  No  hope  is  entertained  of  their  abolition,  but  the 
National  Fencing  Federation,  and  some  of  the  fashionable  clubs — 
for  these  seem  to  be  the  recognized  authorities  in  this  matter — have 
issued  an  edict  that  the  advertising  of  affairs  of  honor  must  be 
limited  to  a  notice  of  the  challenge,  and  the  publication  of  the 
result  of  the  meeting.  It  is  hoped  by  diminishing  the  publicity 
hitherto  existing  to  lessen  the  number — a  step,  indeed,  in  the  right 
direction. 

One  more  must  be  added  to  the  list  of  France's  afflictions — 
the  enormous  increase  of  the  national  expenditure  and  the  conse- 
quent addition  to  the  burden  cast  upon  the  people.  In  the  last 
five  years  two  hundred  additional  millions  have  been  voted  by 
Parliament  to  carry  out  costly  measures  of  various  kinds,  and 
although  there  has  been  an  enormous  growth  of  revenue,  the  deficits 
have  been  still  larger.  This  year  the  excess  of  expenditure  over 
normal  revenue  amounts  to  no  less  a  sum  than  eighty-five  mil- 
lions. For  the  increase  of  the  term  of  army  service  the  expense 
will  be  very  great.  A  loan  of  some  two  hundred  millions  for  this 
purpose  is  about  to  be  issued. 

The  government  has  announced  a  fairly  extensive  scheme  of 
social  legislation.  A  part  of  it  is  the  introduction  of  a  measure 
to  facilitate  the  formation  of  companies  in  which  capital  and  labor 
will  participate  as  shareholders.  The  bill  aims  at  enabling  labor 
to  take  a  share  in  the  control  of  the  industries  in  which  it  is  en- 
gaged. Another  bill  lays  down  regulations  for  labor  credit  so- 
cieties, and  makes  financial  provision  for  their  formation.  By  a 
third  bill  the  civil  rights  of  trade  unions  are  extended  in  a  con- 
siderable degree. 

France  has  loyally  cooperated  with  the  rest  of  the  Great  Powers 
in  the  effort  to  preserve  the  peace  during  the  recent  crisis.  It  was 
indeed  with  considerable  reluctance  that  the  government  took  part 
in  enforcing  the  demands  of  Europe  upon  Montenegro,  and  thereby 
supporting  the  policy  of  Austria.  The  desire  for  peace,  however, 
carried  the  day.  The  visit  of  the  King  of  Spain  has  removed 
any  trace  of  bad  feeling  that  had  been  caused  by  the  Morocco 
question,  and  there  is  now  some  talk  of  Spain's  entry  into  the 
Entente  with  Great  Britain  and  Russia.  This  would  then  become 
quadruple. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  563 

The     marriage     of     the     Emperor's     only 

Germany.  daughter,   the   Princess  Victoria  Luise,   to 

Prince    Ernest    Augustus    of    Brunswick- 

Liineberg,  the  only  surviving  son  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  was 
the  cause  of  the  meeting  of  the  Emperors  of  Russia  and  Germany 
and  the  King  of  England.  Assurances  were  given,  as  is  wont  in 
such  cases,  that  the  meeting  had  no  political  bearing,  and  was  a 
purely  family  affair.  No  doubt  is  entertained  on  this  point,  so 
far  as  the  visit  of  King  George  was  concerned,  although  even  in 
this  case  it  may  have  contributed  to  that  better  understanding 
between  Great  Britain  and  Germany  of  which  there  have  been  so 
many  signs.  The  release  of  the  Englishmen  convicted  of  espio- 
nage is  a  pledge  of  the  good  will  of  Germany.  But  the  Kaiser  in 
Germany  and  the  Tsar  in  Russia  hold  a  much  different  position  than 
that  which  is  held  by  the  King  in  England,  and  it  is  hard  to  think 
that  they  had  no  political  conversation.  What  it  was,  however, 
the  newspapers  have  not  revealed. 

Germany  is  still  in  the  midst  of  the  war-like  preparations 
which  have  already  been  announced.  The  bills  to  legalize  them  and 
to  pay  the  cost  are  before  the  Reichstag  under  discussion.  This 
has  not  prevented  the  Kaiser's  jubilee  being  celebrated  as  a  peace 
festival.  Our  own  Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie  was  at  the  head  of  one 
of  the  first  delegations  to  present  to  his  Imperial  Majesty  an 
address  which  congratulated  him  on  having  maintained  for  twenty- 
five  years  unbroken  peace  with  all  the  world.  It  quoted  the  declara- 
tion made  by  the  Emperor  shortly  after  ascending  the  throne :  "  The 
peace  of  my  country  is  sacred  to  me,"  and  praised  his  majesty  not 
only  for  his  own  peaceful  forbearance,  but  for  having  inspired  the 
same  in  others. 

The  proposals  made  by  the  government  of  Alsace-Lorraine  to 
the  Federal  Council  for  the  sanction  of  more  vigorous  measures  of 
repression  to  be  applied  to  the  Press,  and  to  the  holding  of  meetings 
in  the  Reichsland,  is  considered  by  a  large  part  even  of  the  German 
Press  to  be  a  great  blunder.  Such  a  course  is  inefficacious  if 
needed,  and  exasperating  if  not  needed.  But  the  government 
seems  determined  to  carry  the  proposal  into  effect.  It  will,  no 
doubt,  tend  to  accentuate  the  less  friendly  feelings  between  the  two 
countries,  of  which  there  have  lately  been  several  indications. 

Although  the  Tercentenary  of  the  Roman- 
Russia,  offs  was  celebrated  with  every  manifestation 
of  popular  enthusiasm,  it  would  seem  that 


564  RECENT  EVENTS  [July, 

the  Tsar  has  not  perfect  confidence  in  his  people.  On  his  recent 
visit  to  Berlin  he  had  to  travel  from  St.  Petersburg  in  an  armored 
train,  and  extraordinary  precautions  were  taken  to  protect  him  dur- 
ing the  journey,  and  during  his  stay  in  the  German  capital.  This 
was  in  marked  contrast  with  the  way  in  which  his  cousin  King 
George  of  England  made  the  journey,  and  serves  as  a  reminder 
that  all  is  not  yet  well  in  Russia.  It  is  indeed  true  that  she  is 
just  now  passing  through  a  period  of  greater  prosperity  than 
ever  before.  She  is  entering  upon  a  new  era  of  industrial  activ- 
ity. The  national  revenues  have  never  been  so  great.  Her  pop- 
ulation, which  already  amounts  to  170,000,000,  shows  an  unusual 
increase  of  3,000,000.  Through  the  wisdom  and  moderation  of 
her  statesmen,  she  has  escaped  being  driven  into  war  during  the 
recent  Balkan  crisis.  The  Russian  people  were  enthusiastic  in  sup- 
port of  their  Slav  brethren,  and  had  to  be  held  in  check  by  the 
government.  For  the  maintenance  of  peace  under  no  little  provo- 
cation, a  debt  of  gratitude  is  due  to  the  Tsar  and  his  foreign  min- 
ister, M.  Sazonoff.  It  was  owing  chiefly  to  their  urgent  warnings 
that  King  Nicholas  yielded  up  the  possession  of  Skutari. 

In  one  of  the  last  of  the  celebrations  of  the  tercentenary  fes- 
tivities, the  Tsar  told  a  deputation  of  peasants  that  Russia  had 
grown  great  and  strong  through  belief  in  God,  the  Emperor's 
love  of  his  people,  and  the  people's  attachment  to  the  imperial 
throne.  The  oldest  village  elder  replied,  addressing  the  Tsar 
in  the  second  person  singular :  "  Thou,  lord,  art  our  protection 
against  all  enemies.  In  thee  is  truth,  in  thee  is  mercy.  Thou  hast 
granted  us  peasants  many  tokens  of  thy  favor."  And  yet  with 
all  these  manifestations  of  external  prosperity  and  demonstrative 
assertions  of  loyalty,  the  prisons  of  Russia  are  filled  to  overflowing, 
and  political  executions  have  multiplied  tenfold.  This  indicates 
that  beneath  the  surface  there  is  no  little  discontent.  Doubtless 
this  is  to  be  found  more  in  the  towns  than  in  the  country,  and  is  due 
to  that  very  fact  of  increasing  industrial  activity  which  is  one  of 
the  manifestations  of  the  existent  prosperity.  A  town  population 
is  always  more  discontented  and  desirous  of  change  than  is  that  of 
the  country. 

There  is  reason  to  think  that  the  Tsar  himself  and  his  present 
ministers  are  more  ready  to  extend  liberal  institutions,  and  to  give 
greater  power  to  the  people,  than  is  a  large  number  of  the  aristoc- 
racy, who  are  sunk  deep  in  the  defence  of  their  own  selfish  interests. 
An  attempt  recently  made  to  give  greater  powers  to  municipal 
governments  in  Poland  by  giving  to  them  similar  privileges 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  565 

to  those  which  have  been  granted  to  Russian  towns, 
was  resisted  and  considerably  modified  by  that  branch  of 
the  legislature  which  is  more  subject  to  reactionary  in- 
fluences. It  is  worthy  of  note  that  a  warm  advocate  of  the  pro- 
posed change  was  a  former  Ambassador  of  Russia  to  Washington. 
He  advocated  the  adoption  of  a  broad-minded  policy  for  the  fron- 
tier regions,  based  on  intelligent  sympathy  with  local  needs  and  sus- 
ceptibilities. Only  in  this  way,  he  said,  could  voluntary  allegiance, 
the  true  bond  of  union,  be  created.  Here  perhaps  may  be  seen 
another  of  the  many  instances  of  the  influence  of  American  insti- 
tutions. 

On  the  thirtieth  of  May  the  Treaty  of  Peace 
The  Balkan  War.      between  Turkey  and  the  Balkan  States  was 

signed  in  London.  This  treaty  is  as  im- 
portant as  any  that  have  been  made  for  the  last  three  hundred 
years,  perhaps  in  some  respects  more  important;  for  it  brings  to 
an  end  that  domination  of  the  Turk  over  the  Christian  which  has 
for  so  long  cast  a  dark  shadow  over  Christendom.  The  treaty 
had  been  prepared  by  Sir  Edward  Grey,  the  British  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs,  after  consultation  with  the  delegates  of  the  Allied 
States  and  those  of  Turkey,  and  in  collaboration  with  the  Ambas- 
sadors of  the  Great  Powers,  who  have  been  meeting  for  consultation 
even  since  the  war  began.  Great  credit  is  due  to  the  British  Min- 
ister. It  is  to  his  efforts  that  the  chief  credit  must  be  given  for 
having  held  the  Great  Powers  together,  and  for  having  averted 
the  war  which  the  statesmen  of  two  generations  looked  upon  as 
inevitable  on  the  death  of  the  Sick  Man.  In  the  words  of  the 
Tribunal  "  Sir  Edward  Grey  will  certainly  be  considered  as  the 
principal  author  and  the  greatest  promoter  of  the  Treaty  of  London, 
which  closes  one  of  the  most  important  and  difficult  periods  of 
European  history.  Sir  Edward  has  earned  the  unreserved  grati- 
tude of  all  the  Powers  of  Europe  interested  in  the  maintenance 
of  peace  and  the  limitation  of  the  Balkan  conflicts." 

The  treaty  marks  the  practical  extinction  of  the  Ottoman 
power  in  Europe,  and  the  end  of  a  period  in  which  the  Crusades 
were  only  an  episode.  The  way  in  which  it  was  accomplished  is 
as  surprising  as  the  result.  The  Turk  has  been  dying  for  years, 
and  the  only  question  has  been  which  of  the  Great  Powers  was 
to  give  him  the  death  stroke.  Their  selfish  jealousies  held  them 
back,  and  it  has  been  left  for  the  smallest  and  weakest  of  the  Euro- 
pean States  to  do  without  any  aid  from  outside  the  work  which 


566  RECENT  EVENTS  [July, 

the  whole  of  Europe  failed  to  accomplish,  and  to  do  it  in  one  brief 
campaign.  The  outcome  is  but  another  lesson  in  the  fallibility 
of  human  judgment.  Equally  unexpected  was  the  collapse  of 
China  in  1894  in  her  conflict  with  Japan,  and  the  subsequent  defeat 
of  Russia  by  the  same  power.  There  are  those  who  would  not  be 
surprised  if  a  certain  Great  Power  which  has  dominated  Europe  of 
late  were  to  prove  wanting  if  brought  to  the  test 

By  the  treaty  an  area  of  some  forty  thousand  square  miles, 
of  what  for  centuries  has  been  Turkish  territory,  has  been  ceded 
to  the  Allies.  That  is  to  say,  all  the  territory  on  the  mainland  of 
Europe  west  of  a  line  to  be  drawn  from  Enos  on  the  coast  of  the 
^Egean  to  Midia  on  the  Black  Sea.  This  leaves  some  five  thousand 
square  miles  to  Turkey,  and  includes  Constantinople,  the  whole 
of  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  the  Dardanelles,  and  the  Bosporus.  That 
Constantinople  still  remains  in  Turkish  hands  is  due  to  that  jeal- 
ousy which  has  for  so  long  been  the  mainstay  of  Turkey.  Russia 
is  said  to  have  conveyed  to  Bulgaria  her  determination  that  the 
latter  power  would  not  be  allowed  to  capture  Constantinople. 
Sancta  Sophia  therefore  remains  a  mosque. 

The  treaty  provides  also  that  Crete  is  to  be  ceded  to  the  Allies, 
while  the  ultimate  possession  of  the  other  Turkish  islands  situated 
in  the  ^Egean  is  to  be  left  to  the  decision  of  the  Powers.  Financial 
questions  are  to  be  settled  by  an  International  Commission,  which  is 
to  meet  at  Paris.  No  indemnity  is  given  to  the  Allies  by  the  treaty. 

Although  the  Treaty  of  Peace  has  been  signed,  no  end  of 
questions  remain,  and  it  is  still  doubtful  whether  the  settlement 
of  these  questions  will  not  involve  further  warfare.  It  is,  in  fact, 
said  that  one  reason  for  the  delay  in  signing  the  treaty  on  the  part 
of  Servia  and  Greece — a  delay  which  was  only  brought  to  an  end 
by  a  somewhat  peremptory  summons  by  Sir  Edward  Grey — was  the 
desire  of  those  States  to  keep  the  bulk  of  the  Bulgarian  forces  occu- 
pied before  the  lines  of  Tchataldja  in  order  that  Greece  and  Servia 
might  be  able  to  seize  upon  certain  districts.  Before  the  war  began, 
a  treaty  was  made  by  Servia  and  Bulgaria,  by  which  an  allotment 
was  made  of  the  districts  which  should  fall  to  the  share  of  each  in 
the  event  of  the  war  being  successful.  The  war  was  more  suc- 
cessful than  was  expected,  from  which  success  the  Bulgarians  de- 
rived the  chief  advantage.  The  intrusion  of  Austria-Hungary,  to 
which  the  formation  of  the  new  State  of  Albania  is  due,  still  fur- 
ther diminished  the  region  which  should  have  fallen  to  Servia.  A 
very  natural  desire  to  have  the  treaty  changed,  to  which  Bulgaria 
would  not  listen,  has  led  to  a  very  warlike  feeling  in  Servia  against 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  $67 

Bulgaria.  It  is  hoped  that  the  intervention  of  Russia  may  avert 
an  armed  collision. 

Between  Greeks  and  Bulgarians  armed  collisions  have  actually 
taken  place  on  more  than  one  occasion.  The  Greeks  seemed  deter- 
mined to  retain  the  possession  of  Salonika.  They  are  said  to  have- 
entered  into  a  treaty  with  Servia  to  deprive  Bulgaria  of  certain 
districts.  How  the  question  will  be  settled  is  still  uncertain. 

That  Crete  will  be  annexed  to  Greece  admits  of  no  doubt, 
but  what  will  be  done  with  the  rest  of  the  ^Egean  Islands  is  not  so 
certain.  Greece  claims  the  whole  of  them,  on  the  ground  of  the 
nationality  of  their  inhabitants  and  the  capture  of  others.  But 
Italy  is  in  the  possession  of  about  a  dozen,  taken  during  the  war 
with  Turkey.  She  is  under  the  obligation,  by  the  Treaty  of 
Lausanne,  to  restore  them  to  Turkey.  This  she  now  has  no  thought 
of  doing,  nor  yet  is  she  willing  to  give  them  to  Greece.  It  is 
in  fact  suspected  that  she  intends  to  hold  on  to  them. 

The  new  State  of  Albania  opens  another  series  of  problems. 
Its  northern  boundaries  have  been  settled  by  the  Ambassadors  of 
the  Great  Powers  during  their  sittings  in  London.  But  the  settle- 
ment of  the  southern  boundaries  has  brought  Italy  and  Greece  into 
disagreement.  Italy  wants  to  give  to  Albania  a  boundary  which 
Greece  thinks  unjust,  including,  as  it  does,  many  districts  inhabited 
by  Greeks.  Italy  on  her  part  fears  that  the  demands  of  Greece, 
if  conceded,  would  endanger  the  control  of  the  Adriatic.  Then  the 
constitution  of  Albania  has  to  be  settled,  and  a  ruler  to  be  chosen. 
It  is  now  seen  to  be  doubtful  whether  any  kind  of  order  can  be 
preserved  in  the  new  State  except  by  at  least  a  temporary  occupation 
by  troops  of  foreign  powers.  To  what  powers  is  this  task  to  be 
entrusted?  Meanwhile  Skutari,  the  occupation  of  which  cost  Mon- 
tenegro so  much,  is  now  in  the  possession  of  marines  and  under 
the  governorship  of  a  British  Admiral.  Montenegro  itself,  which 
was  the  first  to  declare  war  with  Turkey,  is  the  one  State  which 
so  far  has  gained  scarcely  anything.  Her  sacrifice  of  Skutari 
preserved  the  peace  of  Europe :  for  there  is  no  doubt  that  Austria- 
Hungary  and  Italy  would  have  taken  steps  in  alliance  to  deprive 
Montenegro  of  her  prize — steps  which  probably  would  have  brought 
Russia  into  the  field. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  because  Turkey  has  practically 
been  driven  from  Europe,  no  more  interest  need  be  taken  in  her 
by  practical  politicians.  The  integrity  of  her  possessions  in  Asia 
becomes  now  a  European  question.  Great  Britain,  France,  Russia, 
and  Germany  have  various  political  and  commercial  interests  at 


568  RECENT  EVENTS  [July, 

stake,  and  are  mutually  afraid  of  any  one  of  their  number  getting 
an  advantage.  Although  not  so  acute,  the  difficulties  which  Turk- 
ish rulers  have  had  in  the  Balkans  exist  also  in  Asia.  There  are 
Kurds  and  Armenians  and  Arabs,  each  of  them  have  national  as- 
pirations which  the  defeats  of  their  overlords,  the  Turks,  will 
accentuate.  The  Armenians — to  whose  shame  it  must  be  said  that 
they  now  boast  that  they  fought  for  the  Turks  in  the  recent  war — 
are  bringing  their  grievances  to  the  front.  Even  the  Arabs  are 
showing  signs  of  restlessness.  The  government  is  seeking  by 
measures  of  decentralization  to  make  concessions  to  these  desires  for 
a  greater  measure  of  self-government.  But  there  are  those  who 
think  that  Europe  will  have  to  do  for  Turkey  in  Asia  something 
analogous  to  what  she  did  for  a  time  in  the  Balkans — appoint  a 
financial  commission  to  control  the  revenue,  and  to  supervise  the 
administration  of  the  provinces.  The  despotism  of  Abdul  Hamid 
has  had  the  usual  effect  of  all  despotisms — it  has  laid  the  people 
so  low  for  the  advantage  of  the  ruler  that  no  man  can  be  found 
to  be  a  saviour. 

The  conclusion  of  the  war  leaves  the  grouping  of  the  Powers 
unchanged.  On  the  one  side  there  is  the  Triple  Alliance  of  Ger- 
many, Austria-Hungary,  and  Italy;  on  the  other  what  is  called  the 
Triple  Entente  between  France,  Russia,  and  Great  Britain.  After 
the  capture  of  Skutari  by  the  Montenegrins,  it  is  now  admitted 
that  war  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  out.  Austria-Hungary 
and  Italy  were  bent  upon  taking  action  in  common  in  Albania : 
its  northern  part  was  to  have  been  the  sphere  assigned  to  Austria, 
while  Italy  was  to  have  acted  in  Southern  Albania.  Avlona,  the 
key  of  the  Adriatic,  would,  had  this  plan  been  carried,  have  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Italy.  Little  prescience  is  necessary  to  see  that  the 
common  action  of  these  two  powers  would  soon  have  turned  into 
a  bitter  conflict — a  conflict  which  would  have  brought  to  an  end 
the  Triple  Alliance.  This  was  averted  by  the  surrender  of  Skutari. 

The  war  has  inflicted  severe  wounds  upon  the  Dual  Monarchy. 
Had  she  acted  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  with  a  venture-all 
audacity,  and  not  have  allowed  Servia  to  enter  the  Sanjak  of 
Novi-Bazar,  she  might  have  succeeded  in  maintaining  a  dominating 
position.  As  it  is  she  has  lost  every  chance  of  reaching  the  y£gean. 
She  has  made  enemies  of  the  Slavs  not  only  in  the  Balkan  States, 
but  within  her  own  dominions ;  she  has  incurred  vast  expense  which 
will  weigh  down  still  further  an  already  overburdened  people. 

t    On  the  other  side,  the  formation  of  Albania  is  to  be  attributed 
to  her  efforts.     How  advantageous  this  may  prove  is  an  open 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS 

question,  especially  when  the  jealousy  of  Italy  is  taken  into  account. 
The  weakening  of  Austria  is  given  by  the  German  Chancellor  as  a 
reason  for  the  addition  to  the  peace  strength  of  the  German  army. 
This  in  its  turn  has  led  France  to  add  to  its  military  power.  And 
so  everything  works  together  for  the  increase  of  armaments.  Nor 
is  this  movement  confined  to  Europe:  Great  Britain's  dread  of 
Germany  has  led  to  the  proposal  of  Mr.  Borden,  the  Prime  Minister 
of  Canada,  to  build  three  Dreadnoughts  for  the  defence  of  the  Ern- 
pire.  This  proposal  has  just  been  rejected  by  the  Senate.  This 
rejection  may  lead  to  a  fundamental  change  in  the  constitution  of 
that  body:  it  has  hitherto  been  nominated;  Mr.  Borden  proposes 
to  make  it  elective.  Such  is  the  sequence  of  events. 

The  Concert  of  the  Powers  which  still  maintains  an  existence, 
notwithstanding  their  division  into  the  Triple  Alliance  and  the 
Triple  Entente,  has  regained  the  respect  which  it  lost  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war.  It  was  then  flaunted  and  set  at  nought  by  the 
Balkan  States — its  threats  and  commands  being  alike  slighted. 
It  has,  however,  been  so  successful  in  the  maintenance  of  peace 
between  the  Great  Powers  during  a  most  trying  time,  that  a  deep 
debt  of  gratitude  is  felt  for  the  influence  for  good  which  it  has 
been  able  to  exert.  Its  success  is  attributed  to  the  fact  that  meet- 
ings of  the  Ambassadors  of  all  the  Great  Powers  were  held  in 
London  throughout  the  whole  period,  at  which  all  questions 
were  discussed  as  they  arose,  and  an  opportunity  was  offered 
to  come  to  an  understanding.  It  was  at  these  meetings  that  the 
creation  of  the  new  State  of  Albania  was  settled. 

The    long-deferred    recognition    by    Great 

Belgium.  Britain  of  the  annexation  of  the  Congo  by 

Belgium  marks  the  complete  triumph  of  the 

efforts  of  the  Congo  Reform  Association  to  secure  the  suppression 
of  the  fearful  crimes  wrought  by  the  late  King  in  that  region. 
With  one  exception  all  the  reforms  advocated  by  the  Association 
have  been  carried  out  by  the  Belgian  administration.  The  whole 
Leopoldian  policy  has  been  abandoned,  the  concessionnaire  compan- 
ies have  either  disappeared  or  been  reduced  to  impotence.  The  rev- 
enues are  no  longer  supplied  by  forced  or  slave  labor,  the  rubber 
tax  has  gone,  the  native  is  free  to  gather  the  products  of  his  toil, 
and  to  dispose  of  them  in  trade,  and  to  buy  and  sell  at  his  own 
pleasure.  A  responsible  government  has  displaced  an  irresponsible 
despotism.  Belgium,  instead  of  deriving  enormous  sums  of  money 
extorted  from  the  wretched  natives,  has  expended  over  twenty  mil- 


570  RECENT  EVENTS  [July, 

lions  on  the  administration  of  the  country  during  a  period  of  four 
years.  The  only  point  about  which  doubt  is  entertained  is  whether 
the  legal  rights  of  the  natives  to  hold  land  is  satisfactorily  secured. 
Assurances,  however,  have  been  given  by  the  Belgian  government 
on  this  point,  and  so  the  last  objection  to  recognition  has  been  re- 
moved. Let  us  hope  that  the  Duchess  of  Bedford's  efforts  to 
secure  the  reform  of  Portuguese  methods  of  treating  political  pris- 
oners may  be  equally  successful. 

The  prospects  for  the  stability  of  the  Chinese 
China.  Republic  are  somewhat  brighter.     The  Pro- 

visional President,  Yuan  Shih-kai,  has  made 

it  clearly  understood  that  he  is  determined  to  suppress  at  all  costs 
all  attempts  at  revolution.  He  has,  moreover,  been  supplied  with 
the  means  of  which  all  earthly  governments  stand  in  need.  The 
loan  which  has  been  for  an  extraordinarily  long  period  a  subject 
of  negotiation,  has  been  not  only  issued,  but  fully  subscribed.  Its 
success  was  indeed  phenomenal.  The  part  issued  in  London  was 
taken  up  twelve  times  over  within  an  hour  and  a  half.  This  does 
not  necessarily  mean  an  expression  of  the  confidence  of  the  financial 
world  in  the  stability  of  the  present  government,  or  even  of  the 
Republican  form  of  government.  For  it  is  well  known  that  China's 
need  of  money  is  so  great  that  any  substitute  for  the  present 
would  have  to  recognize  the  validity  of  the  loan.  It  indicates, 
however,  the  confidence  felt  in  the  resources  of  China.  Moreover, 
the  financiers  have  their  governments'  express  endorsement  behind 
them. 

An  event  still  more  worthy  of  being  chronicled  is  the  definite 
extinction  of  the  trade  in  opium.  In  the  British  House  of  Com- 
mons the  Under- Secretary  for  India  recently  announced  that  the 
Indian  government  had  abandoned  altogether  the  revenue  derived 
from  the  sale  of  opium,  and  were  no  longer  selling  any  to  China. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  the  modern  history  of  India  that  they  were 
selling  not  an  ounce  of  the  poppy.  The  Under- Secretary  said  he 
was  very  proud  to  be  able  to  make  that  declaration.  The  chief 
credit,  however,  is  due  to  the  societies  which  have  for  so  long  been 
striving  for  the  suppression  of  a  traffic  which  has  had  for  its  support 
that  greed  of  nations  and  of  traders  that  has  wrought  such  fearful 
evils  in  the  Congo,  and  in  such  districts  as  the  Putumayo.  Great 
credit  is  also  due  to  the  Chinese  Republican  government,  which  in 
defiance  of  treaties  refused  to  receive  any  more  importations  of 
opium. 


With  Our  Readers. 


'PHE  year  1912  was  a  banner  year  for  the  Society  for  the  Propaga- 
1  tion  of  the  Faith  as  shown  by  the  report  issued  in  the  June 
Annals.  The  receipts  for  the  past  year  footed  up  to  $1,610,315.11,  an 
increase  of  $155,469.78  over  the  amount  received  in  1911,  and  the 
largest  ever  collected  by  the  Society  since  its  foundation,  ninety-one 
years  ago. 

As  usual,  France  leads  the  Catholic  world  in  contributing  to  this 
world-wide  missionary  organization,  giving  $621,366.19.  The  other 
countries  that  contributed  the  largest  amounts  come  in  the  following 
order : 

United  States $366,460.59 

Germany    196,013.53 

Belgium   71,246.23 

Argentine 61,188.81 

Italy   54476.91 

Ireland  52,736.96 

Spain 40,855.08 

Mexico 24,330.86 

Switzerland 20,414.77 

England  20,127.16 

Chili   19,129.77 

From  those  figures  it  appears  that  the  offerings  of  the  faithful 
in  the  United  States  increased  by  $85,226.21  over  those  of  the  previous 
year.  France,  England,  and  Germany  made  also  a  considerable  ad- 
vance, and  Ireland  nearly  doubled  the  sum  of  its  former  contributions. 
This  is  certainly  gratifying,  and  shows  a  growing  interest  in  the  work 
of  the  missions  the  world  over,  and  more  especially  in  this  country. 

The  systematic  conduct  of  the  affairs  of  the  Propagation  of  the 
Faith  commands  American  confidence.  Each  year  the  Society  pre- 
sents a  complete  report  of  its  receipts.  When  the  allocations  to 
the  missions  have  been  determined  on  and  made,  a  complete  report 
of  the  expenditures  is  also  given  to  the  world.  It  is  the  Catholic 
public  that  gives  this  money,  and  the  Catholic  public  has,  therefore, 
the  right  to  know  all  about  it.  This  is  the  policy  and  procedure  of  the 
Society. 

When  it  is  recalled  that  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith  is  the  chief 
support  of  the  Catholic  foreign  missions,  and  when  it  is  further  re- 
called that  the  Protestant  missions  receive  an  amount  ten  times  larger, 


572  WITH  OUR  READERS  [July, 

it  will  be  granted  that  those  contributions  are  much  too  small  to  meet 
even  the  necessary  expenses  of  our  missions.  We  understand  that 
they  come  mostly  from  the  poor;  let  us  hope  that  the  time  is  not  far 
distant  when  our  wealthy  Catholic  brethren  will  open  wide  their 
treasures  and  sustain  the  hands  that  are  consecrated  to  the  Christ-like 
task  of  extending  God's  kingdom  on  earth. 


pILBERT  K.  CHESTERTON  lately  made  the  following  criticism 
\J  of  Mr.  H.  G.  Well's  advocacy  of  the  determinist  theory  of  history : 
"  I  see  by  one  of  his  original  and  suggestive  lectures,  republished 
in  pamphlet  form,  that  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells  is  still  hovering  round  the 
notion  that  future  history  may  perhaps  become  a  fixed  and  calculable 
thing,  like  the  rotation  of  the  stars.  Everything  that  Mr.  Wells 
writes  is  of  value ;  but  in  this  case  my  respect  is  solely  for  the  doctrin- 
aire, and  not  in  the  least  for  the  doctrine.  I  should  detest  the  doc- 
trine if  I  thought  it  were  true.  I  despise  it,  or  even  tolerate  it, 
because  I  know  it  is  false.  But  Mr.  Wells  has  a  way  of  putting  even 
false  doctrines  so  as  to  suggest  the  alternative  of  the  true  ones.  He  is 
a  very  transparent  writer:  and  I  mean  the  phrase  as  a  compliment, 
for  clear  and  flawless  glass  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  make.  When 
he  says  that  the  action  of  empires  or  peoples  might  come  to  be  foreseen 
like  the  changes  of  chemistry,  he  is  fighting  very  fairly ;  for  he  is  mak- 
ing the  answer  easy.  If  chemicals  had  a  power  of  choice,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  be  certain  that  a  chemical  experiment  would  come  off. 
It  often  doesn't  come  off  even  now.  If  a  chemical  element  had  ever 
been  in  a  state  of  indecision,  it  would  be  impossible  to  predict  what  it 
would  do.  If  an  acid  ever  prayed  not  to  be  led  into  temptation, 
chemistry  would  not  be  an  exact  science.  We  can  prophesy  about 
these  things  because  they  are  dead.  We  cannot  prophesy  about  twenty 
million  people  who  will  be  alive  when  we  are  dead.  They  will  have 
the  mixed  motives,  the  sudden  reactions,  the  unconscious  prejudices, 
the  desperate  choice  of  the  less  of  two  evils,  that  we  all  know  in  our 
private  lives — in  short,  they  will  be  human  beings.  That  is  my 
prophecy  about  them.  After  that  remarkable  pronouncement,  I  put 
off  the  prophet's  robe. 

"  But  while  I  think  it  absurd  and  unimaginative  to  say  that  there 
is  one  separate  and  certain  thing  that  must  happen,  I  do  not  count  it 
so  absurd  to  say  that  there  are  four  or  five  things,  one  of  which  will 
most  probably  happen.  Human  life  is  not  a  destiny;  but  it  is  a 
drama.  And  while  a  drama  is  quite  undramatic  if  there  is  only  one 
way  out  of  the  difficulty,  it  is  generally  most  dramatic  of  all  if  there 
are  only  two  or  three.  Humanity  in  the  future  will  not  merely  move 
along ta  path  of  progress ;  which  is  as  heathen  and  heartless  as  a  maze 


1913-]  WITH  OUR  READERS  573 

with  no  heart.  But  it  will  come  to  a  cross-road ;  which  is  as  Christian 
as  a  cross.  There  really  are  certain  things  that  are  all  pretty  probable, 
none  of  them  impossible,  none  of  them  inevitable.  We  may  become 
slaves.  We  may,  by  a  rather  more  abrupt  alteration,  become  free 
men.  We  may  have  a  new  religon.  We  may  return  to  the  old  one. 
But  among  all  these  possibilities  there  is  one  that  will  strike  many 
people  as  more  serious  than  the  rest.  We  may  relapse  into  barbarism." 


WITH  pleasing  seriousness  the  writer  of  The  Point  of  View,  in  the 
June  Scribner's,  seeks  to  call  the  attention  of  his  non-Catholic 
brethren  to  the  dangers  of  that  wide  sea  of  latitudinarianism  whereon 
they  are  wildly  tossed  by  every  wind  of  doctrine.  He  yearns  for  a 
sense  of  conviction  and  of  definite  principle,  so  rare  to-day.  He 
points  out  an  evident  danger  of  democracy  wherein  life  is  made  a 
dead  flat  land,  and  there  is  no  guiding  star  but  the  unstable,  passing 
opinion  of  the  crowd.  We  quote  some  portions  of  his  thoughtful 
essay : 

"  What  significance,  the  serious  or  the  humorous,  should  be  at- 
tached to  our  practice  of  putting  weather-vanes  on  church  spires? 
Old-fashioned  meeting-houses  with  faded  green  blinds  nestle  among 
elms  and  maples;  tall  white  spires  still  point  heavenward,  but  many 
of  them  wear  this  smart  device  to  tell  which  way  the  wind  blows. 
Hamlet  said  he  was  'but  mad  north-northwest;'  are  we  but  religious 
north-northwest  also,  or  east,  as  the  wind  of  opinion  may  blow?  It 
is  unpleasantly  suggestive  of  faith  rationalized,  faith  that  is  a  matter 
of  changing  thought,  not  of  steady,  heavenward-pointing  hope  founded 
on  something  more  solid  than  the  play  of  mere  intellect.  The  old- 
fashioned  Catholic  church  does  better,  at  least  in  the  matter  of  the 
symbol  on  its  spires;  there  shines  the  cross,  against  the  blue  of  noon- 
day, or  golden  against  gray  gathering  clouds;  and  there  is  no  gain- 
saying, no  evading,  its  unchanging  significance. 

"  I  am  ardently  democratic,  but  I  am  beginning  to  wonder  if 
the  spirit  of  demos  has  not  eaten  too  far  into  our  very  bones.  Must 
this  constant  endeavor  to  turn  opinion  to  the  changing  public  mind  be 
a  necessary  outcome  of  democracy? 

"  We  veer  and  shift  too  readily,  trying  to  find  the  exact  path  of 
the  prevailing  mind.  In  the  voting  that  I  do,  concerning,  for  the 
most  part,  educational  matters,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  there  is  often 
less  clear-cut  individual  conviction  on  the  part  of  the  members  of  the 
voting  body  than  desire  to  be  one  of  the  majority,  to  seem  good 
fellows,  to  be  'in  with  the  boys/  Yet  the  people  considering  educa- 
tional questions  are  doubtless  among  the  most  enlightened  in  the 
country.  There  is  a  hasty  glance  round,  when  any  new  opinion  is 


574  WITH  OUR  READERS  [July, 

launched,  to  see  what  the  others  are  thinking;  there  is  an  unconfessed 
feeling  that  the  important  thing  is  to  get  the  sum  total  of  expressions. 
I  do  not  like  these  questioning  glances.  It  is  well  not  to  be  too 
isolated,  and  he  with  whom  no  one  agrees  is  doubtless  insane,  but  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  vox  populi  should  hush  itself  now  and  then 
to  see  whether  it  really  is  vox  Dei.  We  nowadays  take  counsel  too 
much  with  our  contemporaries,  and  do  not  admit  our  forebears  suf- 
ficiently to  those  decisions  wherein  they  still  have  a  right  to  speak. 
As  I  look  back  on  history  it  seems  to  me,  as  more  than  one  thinker  has 
suggested,  that  the  majority  have  seldom  found  out  anything,  whether 
in  matters  spiritual  or  temporal,  without  the  leadership  of  some  nobler 
and  more  gifted  soul.  One  man's  unswerving  faith  in  the  fine  and 
high  outweighs,  in  the  long  run,  ten  thousand  wavering  voices  from 

the  shifting,  unsure  mass 

"  There  is  that  weather-vane  again !  It  keeps  getting  in  my  line 
of  vision,  as  I  look  from  the  green  hill  to  westward,  as  I  come  out 
from  the  sunken  walk  along  the  aqueduct,  and  see,  beyond  the  grass- 
grown  path  and  the  deep-foliaged  trees,  its  gilded  letters  shining  sig- 
nificantly in  the  sun.  I  cannot  get  away  from  it!  And  it  gives  its 
inevitable  suggestion  of  unstable  force,  enduring  at  most  but  a  few 
hours.  As  I  passed,  on  a  clouded  day  last  week,  religion  seemed 
nor'-nor'-east,  while,  on  a  sunny  afternoon — it  was  but  yesterday — 
faith  was  blowing  due  south.  How  it  whips  about  in  a  real  gale! 
When  will  the  churches  take  off  their  weather-vanes,  and  leave  their 
spires  pointing  to  the  north  star? 


ONE  page  from  actual  life  is  worth  many  volumes  of  academic 
and  theoretical  discussion.  How  will  it  be  possible  for  govern- 
ment to  deal  with  a  generation  that  has  never  been  trained  in  the 
principles  of  religion  and  morality?  A  State  that  goes  unconcernedly 
on  its  way  thinking  that  it  need  have  no  care  for  the  religious  training 
of  its  children,  is  surely  headed  for  the  rocks.  Many  who  have  been 
long  asleep  are  waking  up.  Perhaps  this  story  from  every-day  life 
will  arouse  many  more.  In  one  of  New  York  City's  Police  Courts 
an  eleven-year-old  schoolboy,  when  asked  what  would  happen  to  him 
if  he  told  a  lie,  said  he  did  not  know,  and  showed  no  concern  about  the 
matter.  The  boy  was  a  witness  against  another  boy  charged  with 
theft.  The  Magistrate  declared  he  could  not  hold  the  prisoner,  because 
the  sworn  testimony  of  the  boy,  who  did  not  know  or  care  what  would 
happen  to  him  if  he  told  a  lie,  might  not  be  received.  Turning  to  the 
prisoner  the  Magistrate  said :  "  You  ought  to  be  very  thankful  to  the 
inefficient  public  school  system  of  this  city  for  your  discharge.  Cer- 
tainly it  is  a  sad  commentary  on  the  system  when  a  boy  nearly  twelve 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  575 

years  old  is  unable  to  answer  the  question  I've  asked We  spend 

$40,000,000  a  year  in  public  instruction  and  here's  a  specimen." 

An  Assistant  District  Attorney  suggested  that  the  boy  might  not 
have  understood  the  question.  The  Magistrate  replied: 

"  Understand  the  question !  Just  go  out  and  ask  the  business  men 
of  the  city  what  they  think  of  the  public  school  graduate.  Why, 
they're  hanging  out  signs  now  which  read:  'Public  school  boys  and 
girls  need  not  apply  for  this  position.' J: 

The  boy  said  he  had  attended  a  public  school  for  five  years. 


A  TIMELY  and  important  pamphlet  in  answer  to  the  charges 
made  against  the  Catholic  Church  by  the  Christian  Herald — 
charges  which  we  have  already  considered  in  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD — 
is  a  reprint  of  an  article  from  the  Marian  by  J.  P.  McKey,  C.M. 
Copies  of  the  pamphlet  may  be  obtained  from  Rev.  D.  J.  Downing, 
C.M.,  St.  Vincent's  Mission  House,  Springfield,  Mass.  It  sells  at 
three  cents  a  copy;  four  cents  by  mail.  A  reduction  is  allowed  when 
ordered  in  quantities. 


AN  evidently  modest  correspondent  has  sent  us  the  following  verses, 
asking  us  to  publish  them  anonymously,  and  in  the  department 
of  With  Our  Readers.    We  think  his  request  merits  a  favorable  answer. 

TO  MARGARET. 
(Five  years  old,  and  born  blind.) 

Two  gardens  fair,  enclosed 

From  earthly  ray, 
Her  virgin  eyes  await 

Their  marriage  day. 

They  spurn  all  lesser  love, 

Though  dark  the  night; 
Content   that   their   first   Love 

Is  Perfect  Light. 


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THE 


CATHOLIC  WORLD, 


VOL.  XCVIL 


AUGUST,  1913. 


No.  581. 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE. 


A  CATHOLIC  RENAISSANCE. 
BY  JOSEPH  L.  O'BRIEN,  M.A. 

STUDY  of  the  political  history  of  France  of  the  last 
thirty  years  gives  a  Catholic  student  little  hope  for 
better  things  from  the  "  eldest  daughter  of  the 
Church."  For  that  history  is  little  more  than  the 
continuous  record  of  a  brutal  and  relentless  perse- 
cution of  Catholic  truth  and  Catholic  ideals,  which  aimed  at  nothing 
else  than  the  utter  destruction,  not  of  Catholicism,  as  our  Protest- 
ant friends  complacently  imagine,  but  of  Christianity  itself.  The 
ideal  of  the  French  politicians  has  been  a  new  state  in  which  God 
would  be  eliminated  and  humanity  deified ;  in  which  the  "  lights  of 
heaven  would  be  extinguished  "  and  the  lights  of  earth  be  man's 
guides.  With  devilish  ingenuity  they  reversed  the  Gospel  precept. 
"  Destroy  first  the  kingdom  of  God,"  they  cried,  "  and  all  things 
else  will  be  added."  We  Catholics  who  have  Christ's  promise  that 
the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  His  Church,  have  no  fear 
of  the  outcome.  But  withal  we  are  grieved  and  depressed  when  we 
reflect  upon  the  cruelty  and  injustice  perpetrated  upon  the  Church 
in  the  name  of  liberty. 

Turning  from  the  political  history  to  the  literary  history,  the 
same  epoch  presents  quite  a  different  picture;  one  which  buoys  up 
hope  after  the  depression  caused  by  the  political  retrospect,  and 
which  may  be  taken  as  an  indication  of  brighter  days  to  come. 
Within  the  past  thirty  years  French  thought  has  passed  through  a 

Copyright.     1913.     THE  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  OF  ST.  PAUL  THE  APOSTLE 

IN  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 
VOL.  xcvu. — 37 


578      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      [Aug., 

revolution.  The  story  of  this  revolution  is  told  in  the  literature 
of  the  period.  The  strongest  current  in  this  literature  has  been 
a  gradual  inclination  toward  Christian  ideals,  and  to-day,  for  the 
first  time  in  two  centuries,  the  principles  underlying  the  work  of 
the  "  masters  of  the  hour  "  in  the  world  of  French  letters,  are 
Catholic.  This  may  seem  a  strange  thing  to  say  of  the  literature 
of  a  nation  which  has  always  professed  the  Catholic  religion,  even 
if  it  has  practiced  that  religion  indifferently.  But  none  the  less 
it  is  true,  as  a  most  casual  reading  of  the  history  of  French  litera- 
ture will  prove.  Even  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries, 
when  France  withstood  the  ravages  of  the  Protestant  revolt  and 
clung  to  the  old  faith,  religion  had  little  influence  on  literature. 
The  Muse  of  literature  in  France  has  ever  followed  willingly 
in  the  train  of  her  "  pagan  seducer."  In  the  past  religion  seems 
to  have  undervalued  the  services  of  literature,  and  so  with  the 
enemies  of  religion  she  allied  herself.  With  what  terrible  results 
to  both  religion  and  literature  we  well  know.  Literature,  in  France, 
succeeded  in  doing  what  the  Protestant  revolt  had  failed  to  ac- 
complish. Wedded  to  the  philosophy  of  a  Voltaire  and  a  Rousseau 
to  a  great  extent,  she  undermined  the  faith  of  the  nation  and 
wrought  a  work  of  death.  All  through  the  eighteenth  and  nine- 
teenth centuries  literature  in  France  was  a  veritable  plague — a 
Black  Death — for  faith  and  morals. 

Call  to  mind  a  few  of  the  masters  of  French  literature  of  the 
last  century  who  have  won  renown  not  only  at  home,  but  whose 
work  is  well  known  in  other  countries.  Balzac,  Flaubert,  Mau- 
passant, Dumas,  Zola,  Gautier,  novelists;  Baudelaire,  Musset,  de 
Lisle,  poets;  Sainte-Beuve  and  Taine,  critics;  all  of  whom,  when 
not  openly  combating  faith  and  morals,  were  at  least  ridiculing 
and  contemning  them.  Clustered  around  these  luminaries  were 
a  thousand  satellites  only  too  anxious  to  reflect  the  sentiments  of 
their  masters.  The  result  of  their  work  is  evident  in  the  France 
of  to-day.  France  dangerously  wounded  and  bleeding — France 
almost  morally  paralyzed — but  not  yet  dead.  She  is  struggling 
to  free  herself  from  her  terrible  bondage.  And  her  liberation 
seems  at  hand. 

It  is  our  purpose  to  sketch  the  rise  of  a  new  movement  in 
French  literature,  and  to  try  to  determine  some  of  its  causes.  This 
movement  is  distinctively  Catholic,  and  as  such  has  been  persist- 
ently overlooked  by  the  majority  of  writers,  when  treating  of 
French  literature  in  the  most  prominent  reviews  published  in  the 


1913-]      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      579 

English  language.  They  as  yet  cling  to  the  delusion  that  the 
France  of  to-day  is  the  France  of  yesterday;  that  Catholicism 
has  been  choked  out  of  the  life  of  the  nation.  Such  writers  com- 
placently ignore  the  Catholic  influences  which  are  now  making 
themselves  felt  in  English  literature.  We  cannot  therefore  expect 
them  to  recognize  similar  influences  working  abroad.  For  such 
recognition,  Catholics  have  learned  by  experience  to  look  to  the 
Catholic  press. 

The  most  commanding  figure  in  French  literature  for  the 
closing  decades  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  Ferdinand  Brunetiere, 
one  of  the  keenest  literary  critics  France  has  known.  Brunetiere, 
single-handed,  cut  away  much  of  the  undergrowth  of  schools 
and  philosophies,  which  had  choked  not  only  morality  but  art 
itself  out  of  French  letters,  and  infused  new  life  into  a  literature 
dying  of  dry-rot.  His  life  and  work  furnish  us  with  a  striking 
example  of  the  "  evolution  religieuse  "  of  modern  French  thought. 
Born  in  1849,  Brunetiere  received  his  classical  education  at  the 
Lycee  of  Marseilles,  in  an  atmosphere,  if  not  anti-religious,  at 
least  irreligious.  The  philosophy  of  Victor  Cousin  and  Jules 
Simon,  a  practical  liberalism  mixed  with  a  disdain  of  positive  re- 
ligion, was  the  official  philosophy  of  the  state  schools  in  France — 
the  philosophy  of  the  baccalaureate — at  this  time.  The  young 
Brunetiere,  a  brilliant  student  and  by  nature  a  thinker,  like  all 
young  students  of  his  generation,  absorbed  this  philosophy,  and 
moulded  his  ideals  into  the  indifference  which  was  its  aim.  But 
as  he  advanced  in  years,  the  theoretic  agnosticism  which  he  had 
imbibed  in  his  youth  gave  way  to  practical  atheism.  Comte,  Spen- 
cer, and  Darwin  became  his  masters.  "  I  have  spent/'  he  tells 
us  later  in  his  life,  "  thirty  years  of  my  life  to  turn  them  into 
blood  and  bone."*  From  Marseilles,  Brunetiere  went  to  Paris 
and  entered  the  Lycee  of  Louis-le-Grand,  where  he  continued  his 
literary  and  philosophical  studies.  After  the  war  of  1870,  in 
which  he  did  military  service,  he  took  up  his  residence  in  Paris, 
determined  to  devote  his  life  to  literary  pursuits.  For  some  years 
his  way  was  hard  and  thorny.  As  private  tutor  in  a  school  which 
prepared  young  men  for  the  baccalaureate  examination,  he  man- 
aged to  eke  out  a  living.  Teaching  all  day,  he  worked  far  into 
the  night  preparing  himself  for  the  battles  he  was  to  wage  on  the 
fields  of  literary  criticism. 

In  1875  Brunetiere,  after  several  unsuccessful  attempts,  gained 

*Discours  de  Combat,     ist  series. 


580      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      [Aug., 

Admission  into  the  exclusive  number  of  contributors  to  the  powerful 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  and  by  1880  his  name  as  a  critic  was 
firmly  established.  From  that  time  until  his  death  in  1907,  he 
was  the  arbiter  of  elegance  in  French  letters. 

His  first  great  work  as  a  critic  was  to  slay  the  dragon  of 
naturalism,  which  was  in  full  power  when  he  took  up  arms  against 
it,  and  which  was  exploited  with  consummate  skill  by  Zola.  De- 
spite the  philosophic  systems  in  which  he  had  been  trained,  and 
though  he  himself  may  not  have  been  fully  aware  of  it,  the  under- 
lying principles  of  Brunetiere's  work,  Le  Roman  Naturaliste,  are 
Christian.  They  are  far  from  the  teachings  of  either  positivist 
or  determinist  philosophy.  Such  propositions  as:  human  nature 
is  fallen;  man  has  a  free  will;  man  is  responsible  for  his  actions 
which  are  not  mere  fatal  resultants,  are  the  foundations  of  his 
attacks  upon  naturalism.  Here  in  the  first  great  work  which  comes 
from  his  pen,  we  find  application  of  Christian  standards  to  literary 
criticism.  Brunetiere  was  far  from  being  a  Christian.  He  had 
a  long  way  to  travel,  and  many  years  were  to  pass  before  he  made 
an  act  of  faith,  but  a  break  with  established  ideals  and  an  inclina- 
tion toward  something  radically  opposed  to  them  is  betrayed  in 
this  book.  In  it  the  young  critic  revivified  a  standard  which  had 
fallen  into  decay  in  France,  and  with  that  standard  exposed  the 
purulence  of  naturalism.  Zola's  star  died  out  under  the  light 
of  the  rising  Brunetiere,  and  the  way  was  opened  for  novels 
which  aimed  at  being  something  other  than  a  "  slice  of  life." 

After  ridding  literature  of  the  influence  of  Zola,  Brunetiere 
occupied  himself  with  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  the  Encyclopedists. 
In  1878  the  "  intellectuals  "  of  France  planned  a  celebration  in 
honor  of  the  centenary  of  the  death  of  Voltaire,  in  which  they 
hoped  to  deify  the  father  of  French  emancipation.  Voltairism  had 
been  momentarily  eclipsed  by  romanticism.  The  anniversary  of 
his  death  was  an  opportune  time  to  restore  the  man  and  his  work 
to  their  former  glory.  With  this  end  in  view  the  celebration 
was  planned  and  carried  out,  but  it  was  far  from  fulfilling  the 
expectations  of  its  promoters.  When  all  was  over  the  position  of 
Voltaire,  "  the  patron  saint  of  irreligion,"  wras  shaken.  His  cult 
instead  of  gaining  in  worshippers  had  diminished,  and  the  man, 
such  as  he  really  was,  was  better  known.  With  terrible  precision, 
rigorous  logic,  and  undisputed  documentary  knowledge  Brunetiere 
exposed  Voltaire.  In  a  famous  article  published  in  the  Revue  des 
Deuq  Mondes,  Brunetiere  drew  a  parallel  between  the  lives  and 


1913.]       NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      581 

works  of  Voltaire  and  Bossuet,  and  showed  to  which  of  these  two 
men  French  literature  was  most  indebted.  Brunetiere,  falling  under 
the  influence  of  Bossuet  and  defending  his  ideals,  became  more  open 
in  his  attacks  upon  the  decadent  schools  of  philosophy  dominating 
literature. 

Renan  was  another  of  the  popular  radical  philosophers  to  fall 
as  Brunetiere  advanced.  In  his  younger  days  the  great  critic 
had  yielded  for  a  time  to  the  lure  of  Kenan's  skepticism,  and  knew 
from  experience  the  failure  of  this  system  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  a 
soul  which  was  not  totally  blind.  He  was  also  aware  of  its  blight- 
ing effect  on  literature  owing  to  its  instability  and  vagueness.  In 
the  same  relentless  method  with  which  he  had  dealt  with  Zola  and 
Voltaire,  Brunetiere  attacked  Renan,  not  without  signal  success. 
"  After  having  killed  the  naturalism  of  Zola,  Brunetiere  by  his 
attitude  helped  more  than  any  one  else  to  kill  the  skepticism 
of  Renan."* 

No  modern  literature  was  so  affected  by  the  school  of  "  art 
for  art's  sake  "  as  was  the  French.  This  fallacy  inspired  some  of 
the  most  telling  pages  of  Brunetiere's  work.  Against  its  de- 
fenders he  held  that  art  is  not  free  to  do  as  it  pleases,  but  that 
the  artist,  like  every  other  man,  is  bound  by  the  moral  laws.  The 
poet,  the  writer,  is  not  merely  a  maker  of  harmonious  lines  or  a 
designer  of  beautiful  verbal  pictures.  His  words  clothe  his 
thoughts — in  his  work  a  philosophy  is  reflected.  For  his  thoughts 
and  reflections  the  writer  is  responsible.  If  they  are  false,  then 
his  work,  regardless  of  its  formal  merit,  is  false.  Here  Brunetiere 
lays  down  a  fundamental  principle  of  Christian  criticism.  In  ap- 
plying it  he  throws  his  tremendous  influence  on  the  side  of  morality 
in  its  continual  campaign  against  a  soulless  literature,  and  inspired 
that  campaign  in  France  with  new  vigor. 

Brunetiere's  work  was  crowned  with  the  highest  success.  His 
career  as  litterateur  was  most  brilliant.  As  director  of  the  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes,  as  professor  at  the  Sorbonne,  as  member  of  the 
French  Academy,f  and  as  a  powerful  and  prolific  writer — some 
thirty  volumes  touching  on  every  side  of  French  literature  flowed 
from  his  pen — the  extent  of  his  influence  can  hardly  be  estimated. 
He  stood  for  all  that  was  great  and  good  in  literature,  and  im- 
pressed his  views  on  his  countrymen.  He  found  French  litera- 

*Ames   d'Aujourd'hui.     Par   Francois    Vincent,    p.    376. 

t  Elected  in  1894.     His  rival  for  the  seat  was  Zola.     By  its  choice  the  Academy 
repudiated  Zola  once  and  for  all. 


582      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      [Aug., 

ture  blighted  by  naturalism  and  atheism,  and  spent  his  life  in 
combating  these  forces.  When  death  stilled  his  pen,  a  new  ideal- 
ism, a  Catholic  idealism,  had  burst  forth.  The  debt  the  new  school 
owes  to  him  time  alone  will  tell. 

We  have  seen  that  the  philosophic  opinions  of  Brunetiere 
underwent  a  radical  change.  This  change  is  shown  forth  in  his 
works.  Did  it  affect  his  life?  In  November,  1900,  addressing 
the  Catholic  congress  of  Northern  France  in  session  at  Lille,  he 
himself  answered  the  question.  He  had  long  searched  for  the 
truth,  and  at  last  he  found  it.  "  What  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  what 
I  believe,  not  what  I  suppose,  nor  what  I  imagine,  not  what  I  know, 

nor  what  I  understand,  but  what  I  believe go  and  ask  of 

Rome."*  His  submission  to  the  Church  was  the  logical  outcome 
of  his  study.  He  had  sounded  the  prevailing  systems  to  the 
depths,  but  he  found  them  delusions.  Only  in  the  doctrines  of  the 
Church  did  he  find  that  stay  which  can  support  the  honest  soul. 
He  died  in  1907,  in  his  fifty-eighth  year,  after  devoting  the  closing 
years  of  his  life  in  making  known  to  the  world  the  treasure 
he  had  found.  He  was  regretted  by  all,  and  he  died  the  acknowl- 
edged master  critic  of  his  time. 

Frangois  Coppee,  y  poet,  novelist,  and  dramatist,  member  of 
the  Academy,  and  one  of  the  most  popular  of  French  writers, 
stands  out  prominently  in  the  development  of  the  new  idealism. 
During  the  early  years  of  his  poetic  career,  Coppee  was  a  disciple 
of  the  school  of  poetry  which  arose  in  France  along  in  the  '6o's, 
known  as  "  Le  Parnasse,"  from  the  publication  La  Parnasse  Con- 
temp  oraine,  which  was  the  organ  of  the  school.  If  not  the  greatest 
of  the  "  parnassiens,"  Coppee  was  "  the  most  popular  and  the  most 
widely  read."$  His  ambition  was  to  write  poetry  which  could 
be  read  and  enjoyed,  not  only  in  the  salons,  as  was  the  classic 
poetry,  nor  again  in  the  cenacles,  as  was  the  romantic  poetry, 
but  also  in  the  great  world  of  every-day  life.  And  he  succeeded 
admirably  in  fulfilling  his  ambition.  The  great  popularity  his 
work  enjoys  is  due  in  large  part  to  his  choice  of  subjects.  He 
broke  away  from  the  perpetual  melancholy  note  of  the  romantic 
poets,  and  found  his  inspiration  in  the  common  walks  of  life. 
His  poetry  of  the  "  daily  life "  brought  him  in  touch  with 
the  common  people  from  whom  he  had  sprung,  and  attracted  their 
attention.  They  became  enthusiastic  readers  of  his  work.  Not 

*Discours  de   Combat,   II.,  p.  43.  tBorn    1842. 

$ Journal  des  debats,   24  mars,    1908. 


1913.]      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      583 

only  his  poems,  but  also  his  dramas  and  novels  were  eminently 
successful,  and  they  extended  his  influence  to  all  classes  of  readers. 
At  an  early  age  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  skepticism  of  his  times, 
and  drifted  away  from  the  Catholic  faith,  in  which  he  had  been 
brought  up.  Despite  increasing  success  and  worldly  honors,  there 
remained  a  void  in  his  soul,  which  he  tried,  in  vain,  to  fill.  He 
could  find  nothing  to  replace  the  faith  which  he  had  deserted. 
With  grieved  heart  he  saw  whither  the  Muse  of  poetry  had  strayed 
without  that  guidance  which  Truth  alone  can  give.  In  1892, 
addressing  a  circle  of  young  litterateurs  who  had  invited  him  to 
speak  to  them,  he  betrayed  the  secret  aspirations  of  his  soul.  He 
expressed  to  them  the  hope  that  from  among  their  ranks  a  poet 
would  arise  who  would  reconcile  the  modern  world  with  the 
Christian  ideal.  "  I  have  not  the  faith,"  he  continued.  "  I  am 
not  a  Christian,  but  I  am  under  the  impression  that  such  recon- 
ciliation is  necessary." 

Five  years  later  Coppee  was  to  avow  his  Christianity  to  the 
world.  He  returned  to  the  Church  from  which  he  had  long  been  a 
stranger,  but  the  love  of  which  had  never  altogether  died  out  in 
his  heart.  Smitten  with  a  malady  which  brought  him  to  the  verge 
of  the  grave,  the  poet  in  his  hours  of  desolation  and  suffering 
confronted  himself  with  the  problems  of  eternity,  of  which  in  the 
hardihood  of  his  youth,  and  among  the  honors  and  successes  of 
life,  he  had  little  thought.  In  his  earnest  soul  grace  worked 
the  miracle,  and  the  shackles  of  his  past  life  fell  from  him.  He 
arose  from  his  bed  of  sickness  a  Christian  knight,  sworn  to  devote 
his  remaining  years  "  pour  Dieu  et  pour  la  France." 

Although  most  of  CoppeVs  writings  antedate  his  conversion, 
there  is  little  in  them  which  is  offensive.  He  was  never  a  scoffer. 
"  One  may  meet  in  my  books  some  few  pages — which  I  disown 
and  detest — where  I  have  spoken  of  religious  things  with  a  foolish 
levity,  at  times  even  with  a  most  culpable  boldness;  one  will  look 
in  vain  for  a  blasphemy."  Thus  he  writes  in  La  Bonne  Soiif- 
france*  looking  back  on  his  writings  after  his  return  to  the 
Church.  The  few  books  which  he  produced  between  1897  anc^ 
1908,  the  year  of  his  death,  are  written  in  the  same  charming 
style  which  was  ever  characteristic  of  him,  and  are  replete  with 
the  fervor  and  glow  of  faith.  They  were  inspired  by  one  motive — 
to  help  those  of  his  countrymen,  "  for  whom  doubt  is  not  the  smooth 
pillow  of  which  Montaigne  speaks For  a  long  time  I  was  one 

*Preface,  p.  7. 


584      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE       [Aug., 

of  them,  I  suffered  from  the  same  malady.  I  offer  them  the 
remedy  which  has  cured  me."* 

Coppee  exerted  a  far-reaching  influence  on  the  popular  mind. 
The  immense  circulation  of  his  books,  the  articles  written  in  his 
later  years,  and  contributed  to  one  of  the  great  Paris  dailies, 
brought  his  ideas  to  the  notice  of  thousands  who  were  far  from 
Christian  influence,  and  who  could  not  be  reached  by  the  usual 
means.  He  created  a  public  well  disposed  toward  the  new  idealism 
in  literature.  What  Brunetiere  had  done  in  the  intellectual  world, 
Coppee  repeated  with  no  little  success  in  the  common  every-day 
world. 

Few  names  in  contemporaneous  French  literature  are  better 
known  than  that  of  Paul  Bourget,f  psychologist  and  novelist. 
Many  years  of  fruitful  labor  in  the  world  of  letters  have  won  for 
him  an  unrivalled  prestige.  Some  few  years  ago  when  this  eminent 
Academician  made  his  submission  to  the  Church,  "  philosophic  " 
Europe  gasped  for  breath.  Tolstoy,  the  idol  of  literary  Philis- 
tinism, wrote  from  his  Russian  retreat  apropos  of  Bourget's  re- 
jection of  modern  philosophy :  "I  am  particularly  surprised  by 
the  fact  that  such  men  as  Paul  Bourget  and  his  friends  can,  in 
1910,  still  speak  seriously  of  Catholicism  in  France  after  Voltaire, 
Rousseau,  and  so  many  other  thinkers.  Nothing  shows  more  clearly 
the  frightful  decay  into  which  these  men  have  fallen."  But  what 
Tolstoy  and  his  followers  failed  to  perceive,  Bourget  and  his 
friends  not  only  perceived,  but  courageously  acknowledged.  The 
ideals  of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  had  collapsed.  They  were  in- 
capable of  satisfying  the  aspirations  of  the  soul,  or  of  inspiring 
it  with  motives  worth  an  effort.  Psychologists  were  wont  to  ex- 
plain the  conversion  of  Verlaine,  Rette,  Huysmans,  and  Coppee 
on  the  ground  that  they  turned  to  Catholicism  in  search  of  new 
sensations,  after  exhausting  all  that  philosophy  and  the  world  had 
to  offer.  They  were  poets,  nevroses,  men  of  imagination  rather 
than  of  intellect.  But  when  Bourget,  a  psychologist  whose  power 
of  cold  analysis  had  been  applauded  for  years,  and  Brunetiere, 
whose  scientific  criticism  had  become  world- famed,  rejected  as 
worthless  the  various  schools  of  thought  which  were  in  vogue,  and 
returned  to  Catholicism,  no  such  explanations  were  forthcoming. 
The  high  priests  in  the  temples  of  literature  were  deserting  the 
altars  of  false  gods.  The  fanatics  shrieked,  but  the  sober-minded 
began  to  think  and  to  follow  their  leaders.  The  example  .afforded 

*Preface,  p.   5.  tBorn    1852. 


1913.]      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      585 

by  men  of  the  calibre  of  Brunetiere,  Coppee,  and  Bourget  has  been 
the  force  which  gave  thousands  of  their  countrymen  the  courage 
to  be  true  to  their  convictions.  "  Exempla  trahunt "  is  especially 
true  of  the  vacillating  and  undecided  temperament  characteristic 
of  the  French. 

This  unprecedented  awakening  of  Catholic  idealism  which  has 
asserted  itself  in  French  literature  in  recent  times,  drives  home  to 
the  world  one  very  important  lesson.  Philosophy,  which  was  to 
re-establish  a  new  heaven  on  earth,  has  collapsed.  Philosophy 
which  was  to  answer  all  the  whys  and  wherefores  which  torture 
the  unanchored  mind,  has  not  kept  its  promises.  It  has  drifted 
into  hopeless  confusion  and  leads  nowhere.  All  the  schools  of 
philosophy  which  have  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  Renaissance  and 
the  Protestant  revolt,  have  done  nothing  to  ease  the  human  smart. 
And  men  have  grown  weary  of  waiting.  They  are  sick  of  delu- 
sions. They  search  for  relief  from  the  shattered  world  which  lies 
about  them.  And  from  amidst  the  ruins  they  catch  sight  of  the 
one  system  which  has  stood  strong  and  firm  against  the  shocks  of 
two  thousand  years,  and  which  fearlessly  proclaims :  "  I  am  the 
Truth."  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  if  they  turn  to  it  for  light?  No 
nation  placed  fonder  hopes  in  modern  philosophy  to  bring  about 
a  new  order  of  things  than  did  France.  None  has  suffered  a 
greater  disappointment.  Hence  the  unrest.  Hence  the  revival  of 
the  faith  which  for  two  centuries  the  philosophers  of  the  nation 
blindly  sought  to  destroy. 

This  collapse  of  philosophy  and  its  pretentions  is  the  great 
cause  of  the  religious  renaissance  which  to-day  is  sweeping  through- 
out the  land.  "  People  who  thirty  years  ago  would  have  been 
fanatic  materialists  and  fervent'  devotees  of  irreligion  in  the  train 
of  Robin  and  of  Littre,  snapped  their  fingers  at  science  and  felt 
their  souls  warm  under  the  breath  of  a  new-Christianity."* 
"  Never/5  laments  the  anti-clerical  Mercure  de  France,  "  never  since 
the  time  of  the  Reformation  has  such  a  curiosity  about  everything 
that  pertains  to  religion  been  evident." 

Although  the  movement  which  so  unexpectedly  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  French  literature  at  the  close  of  the  last  century  is 
as  yet  in  its  infancy,  it  has  impressed  itself  upon  the  life  of  the 

*Lanson,  Histoire  de  la  LittSrature  frangaise.  12  Ed.  Lanson  seems  to  mean 
by  new-Christianity  (neo-christianisme)  a  sort  of  agreement  with  the  will  of  God 
without  believing  in  Him.  On 'the  next  page  he  tells  us  that  new-Christianity  soon 
split  up,  some  going  over  to  Catholicism,  others  returning  to  the  pursuit  of  relative 
truth.  Lanson's  book  is  rationalistic  throughout,  and  as  such  his  testimony  to 
the  religious  unrest  is  valuable. 


586      NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  FRENCH  LITERATURE      [Aug., 

nation,  and  has  been  supported  by  many  of  the  ablest  writers 
of  the  day.  Bazin,  Bordeaux,  Victor  Favet,  and  Baumann  have 
supplanted  the  Zolas,  Daudets,  and  Maupassants  of  a  generation 
ago,  and  are  producing  novels  in  keeping  with  Christian  ideals. 
These  writers  are  among  the  most  widely  read  in  France  at  the 
present  time,  and  the  work  of  all  is  of  exceptional  artistic  merit. 
Rene  Doumic  and  Victor  Giraud,  keen,  sharp  critics,  are  continuing 
the  work  of  Brunetiere.  Theodore  Wyzewa,  by  his  excellent  trans- 
lations of  Joergensen's  famous  Franciscan  trilogy  and  of  Monsignor 
Benson's  works,  has  put  before  the  reading  public  of  France  two 
of  the  greatest  Catholic  writers  of  the  day.  Georges  Goyau  and 
Paul  Thureau-Dangin,*  writers  on  social  and  historical  questions, 
have  produced  books  well  calculated  to  stimulate  the  interest  of 
their  readers  in  such  subjects.  These  few  names  represent  the 
leaders  of  the  movement  at  the  present  time.  Around  them  is 
clustered  a  host  of  lesser  lights  inspired  by  the  work  of  such 
masters,  and  filled  with  the  traditions  of  Brunetiere  and  Coppee. 
With  such  forces  the  work  of  reconstruction  is  pushing  rapidly  on. 
Outside  of  the  avowed  Catholic  writers,  Maurice  Barres,  Henri 
Levedan,  Jules  Lemaitre,  and  Pierre  Loti  stand  as  if  undecided 
with  what  current  to  cast  their  lot.  Barres  and  Levedan  are 
apparently  Catholics  in  all  but  name.  Of  late  years  their  work 
reveals  marked  Catholic  tendencies.  Lemaitre,  friend  and  admirer 
of  Coppee,  not  long  ago  said  to  a  friend :  "  Ah,  I  love  the  priests, 
the  religious.  I  love  all  that  you  love,  you  Catholics."  Christian 
heart,  pagan  head!  Such  is  Lemaitre  at  present.  Like  Loti  he 
has  passed  through  all  the  pangs  of  uncertainty  and  doubt,  and  is 
as  yet  drifting  on  the  waves  of  discontent.  Perhaps  ere  long 
they  will  find  the  way  so  well  indicated  by  Coppee. 

The  greatest  glories  of  France  date  from  the  times  when 
France  was  Catholic.  "  La  douce  France "  was  ever  Catholic 
France.  The  mighty  wave  of  Catholicism  which  to-day  rolls  on 
with  increasing  strength,  shows  the  struggle  the  soul  of  the  nation 
is  making  to  reassert  itself.  This  effort  is  general.  It  has  effected 
every  domain  of  activity,  save  one.  Especially  in  literature — a 
nation's  perpetual  examination  of  conscience — has  it  wrought  a 
notable  change.  When  we  least  expect  it,  it  may  extend  itself  to 
the  political  world — always  the  last  to  yield  to  a  reforming  influence, 
and  bring  home  to  French  politicians  the  meaning  of  a  word  they 
have  as  yet  to  learn — liberty. 

*Died  Feb.   24,    1913. 


THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING. 


BY  LOUISE  IMOGEN  GUINEY. 

ARDINAL  MANNING  in  his  Anglican  days  was,  as 
all  the  world  knows,  Archdeacon  of  Chichester. 
He  was  also  Rector  of  Lavington.  There  are  three 
Lavingtons  in  Sussex,  widely  scattered,  carrying  di- 
verse prefixes,  almost  indiscoverably  small,  and 
equally  beautiful.  The  village  associated  with  the  Cardinal  is  called 
East  Lavington,  or,  more  properly,  Woollavington.  It  lies  close 
to  the  high  South  Downs,  on  the  northerly  and  landward  side. 
Four  miles  from  a  railway  station  and  nearly  three  times  that  dis- 
tance from  a  town,  it  is  very  much  "  on  the  road  to  Nowhere,"  and 
in  consequence  has  what  is  to-day  a  rarely  blessed  fate  in  remaining 
unprofaned  by  touring  motors.  A  large  manor,  a  little  church, 
a  few  cottages,  comprise  it.  Ash  and  beech  woods,  interspersed 
with  evergreens,  climbing  an  abrupt  slope,  wave  high  over  it,  and 
a  clear  brook  tumbles  along  its  wayward  channel  at  their  feet. 
Enchanting  paths  on  every  side  lead  to  the  patches  of  breezy  plain 
on  top  of  the  Downs,  whence  on  a  fine  day  you  can  see  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  and  yachts  and  warships  riding  in  the  Solent.  All  about 
you,  up  there,  lie  the  round  mysterious  hillocks,  the  tumuli  which 
the  ordnance  maps  show  like  the  bosses  of  a  belt  far  across  these 
historic  coasts  of  the  southern  counties;  graves  of  lonely  grandeur 
heaped  over  West  Saxon  chieftans,  or  over  primeval  warriors 
dead  long  before  the  Heptarchy  came  into  being.  Over  them, 
like  a  never-ceasing  shower  from  mid-April  to  mid- June,  pours 
the  heavenly  music  of  countless  nightingales.  In  all  England  is  no 
more  characteristically  English  scene  than  rolls  outspread  in  undu- 
lating pasture,  coppice,  and  harvest,  to  the  violet-misted  horizon. 
The  ground  above  Lavington  is  some  seven  hundred  feet  high,  and 
with  so  many  neighboring  forest  glooms,  it  is  hard  to  believe 
oneself  in  a  detimbered  ancient  land,  and  not  among  the  virgin 
hills  of  New  Hampshire. 

Lavington  House  is  a  comfortable,  spacious,  rather  plain  stone 
manse,  set  in  the  middle  of  its  several  hundred  acres.  Like  most 
English  enclosures,  it  has  always  had  a  public  right  of  way  clear 
across  it,  between  Graff  ham  and  Duncton.  Close  to  the  Hall 


588  THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING  [Aug., 

nestles  the  pretty  Early  English  church,  "  blossomed  high  in  tufted 
trees."  The  estate  has  a  long  but  very  tranquil  history.  For  over 
two  hunderd  years  it  belonged  to  a  family  who,  as  legal  patrons, 
could  nominate  their  incumbent,  and  at  various  times  supplied  the 
needed  ecclesiastic  from  among  its  own  members.  In  this  family,  it 
is  said,  the  succession  in  the  male  line  always  failed,  save  once :  and 
that  was  when  the  Rev.  John  Sargent,  son  of  John,  became  both 
squire  and  rector  in  the  year  1805.  He  died  in  the  summer  of 
1833,  Just  as  Newman  came  back,  fever-shaken,  from  Sicily,  to 
his  old  comradeship  with  Hurrell  Froude,  and  his  "  work  to  do 
in  England,"  and  just  as  Keble  mounted  the  pulpit-stair  of  St. 
Mary  the  Virgin's  in  Oxford,  to  sound  the  tocsin  of  the  great 
Movement.  Mr.  Sargent  was  a  Master  of  Arts  of  Cambridge 
University,  an  old-fashioned  Tory,  a  Low  Church  evangelical,  who 
had  no  sympathy  to  waste  on  the  religious  changes  close  at  hand. 
It  was  a  joy  to  the  villagers  when  it  became  known  that  Mr.  Sar- 
gent's curate,  a  young  Fellow  of  Merton  College,  was  to  succeed 
him  in  the  living,  and  pursue  on  a  larger  scale  his  super-intelligent 
and  profoundly  unselfish  ministrations  among  them.  He  was  al- 
ready greatly  loved;  much  was  expected  of  his  career  from  those 
who  best  knew  him;  in  1833,  as  always,  he  looked  more  like  a 
spirit  than  a  mortal  man.  His  name  was  Henry  Edward  Manning. 
Readers  of  his  noble  survey,  called  England  and  Christendom,  may 
remember  a  movingly  beautiful  passage,  referable  to  cherished  Lav- 
ington,  about  "  the  little  church  under  a  green  hillside,  where  the 
Morning  and  Evening  Prayers,  and  the  music  of  the  English  Bible, 
became  for  seventeen  years  a  part  of  my  soul." 

Mr.  John  Sargent  and  Mary  his  wife  had  two  sons,  both  of 
special  promise.  The  elder  predeceased  his  father  by  four  years, 
having  died  aged  twenty,  in  1829.  His  brother,  Henry  Martyn 
Sargent,  a  boy  of  seventeen,  became  the  heir  of  Lavington,  and, 
true  to  the  strange  fate  which  seemed  to  overhang  the  men  of  his 
blood,  lived  only  long  enough  to  reach  his  majority.  There  were 
four  sisters  left  to  mourn  him,  all  of  them  modestly  famous  for 
their  loveliness  of  face,  form,  and  character.  One  after  another, 
they  all  married  clergymen.  The  history  of  these  marriages  has 
no  little  interest,  both  to  modern  Anglicans  and  to  us  who  are 
aware  how  convert  Anglicans  have  strengthened  the  parching  life 
of  the  Catholic  Church  in  England.  The  eldest  Miss  Sargent, 
Emily,  married  in  her  father's  lifetime  Samuel  Wilber force,  who 
already  stood  before  his  university  as  something  more  than  the  dis- 


1913-]  THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING  589 

tinguished  Liberator's  son,  and  was  soon  to  be  widely  known  as 
the  Bishop  first  of  Oxford,  then  of  Winchester.  His  brother, 
Newman's  dear  Henry  Wilberforce,  engaged  himself  promptly  to 
another  of  the  Sargents,  and  was  afraid  to  tell  Newman!  (The 
inner  circle  at  Oriel,  who  had  come  into  close  touch  with  that 
fiery  reformer,  Hurrell  Froude,  were  strongly  celibate,  and  looked 
upon  matrimony  as  an  outright  defection  from  the  cause.)  The 
youngest  daughter  of  Lavington  House  became  the  wife  of 
George  Dudley  Ryder,  a  son  of  His  Lordship  of  Coventry  and 
Lichfield,  and  himself  not  the  least  attractive  in  this  group  of 
high-minded  friends.  And  Caroline,  aged  twenty-one,  third  of  the 
Sargent  girls,  six  months  after  her  father's  death  in  November, 
I833,  was  quietly  married  by  her  brother-in-law,  Samuel  Wilber- 
force, in  Lavington  Church,  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Manning,  the  incum- 
bent; and  a  bright  day  it  long  remained  in  the  memory  of  the 
parishioners,  who  had  reason  to  cherish  both  bridegroom  and  bride. 
In  an  atmosphere  of  very  strong  mutual  affection,  unbroken  for 
many  years,  all  these  young  kinsfolk  began  their  linked  and  varied 
and  idyllic  lives.  It  was  a  great  blow  to  them  all,  as  well  as  to 
his  devoted  mother,  when  her  only  son,  Henry  Sargent,  died  in 
1836.  Mrs.  Samuel  Wilberforce  then  inherited  Lavington  House, 
and  she  and  her  husband  came  to  make  it  their  home.  The  Man- 
nings lived  a  stone's  throw  away,  near  the  Park  gates,  but  facing 
the  Park,  in  the  attractive  old  dwelling  called  Beechwood  House, 
which  served  the  beloved  parson  for  a  parsonage.  He  found  plenty 
to  do  in  his  remote  little  parish  of  Woollavington-cum-Graffham. 
But  Caroline  Sargent,  like  her  brilliant  brothers,  was  early 
called  away.  She  lay  dying  of  consumption  when  the  first  of 
Manning's  professional  honors  came  to  him,  his  appointment  to 
the  second  rural  Deanery  of  Midhurst;  and  in  July,  1837,  she 
was  laid  to  rest  in  Lavington  churchyard,  after  three  and  a  half 
childless  but  most  happy  wedded  years.  To  the  heart  of  her  hus- 
band, intensely  sensitive  and  tender,  it  was  an  overwhelming  sor- 
row. It  was  also  a  wordless  one.  He  buried  himself  in  tasks 
and  plans  of  ever-widening  scope,  and  in  a  courageous  acceptance  of 
the  inscrutable  Will  of  God.  He  was  received  into  the  Catholic 
Church  in  1851,  little  foreseeing  that  he  was  to  survive  his  angelic 
wife  (and  through  what  worlds  of  change,  and  what  workings  of 
the  grace  of  God !)  for  more  than  another  forty  years.  The  name 
of  the  dead  seems  to  have  been  mentioned  but  once,  and  then  in  an 
hour  of  sudden  emotion  and  alarm,  to  Robert  Isaac  Wilberforce, 


590  THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING  [Aug., 

when  the  two  famous  converts,  in  the  first  glow  of  their  splendid 
renunciation,  were  travelling  to  Rome.  As  an  Anglican,  while  as 
yet  Manning  had  not  realized  the  consoling  truth  that  a  departed 
soul 

can  drink 

The  dew  of  all  the  prayers  that  I  can  say, 

he  had  kept  religiously  each  anniversary  of  his  loss;  and  he  kept 
it  with  a  far  more  efficacious  loyalty  afterwards,  on  to  the  close 
of  his  long  life.  In  those  after-years,  it  was  broached  more  than 
once  by  his  relatives  to  the  ageing  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  West- 
minster that  it  would  be  well  to  mark  the  dear  grave  far  away. 
"No:  let  the  grass  grow  over  it."  He  had  always  been  of  the 
same  mind.  Thoughtful  persons,  Catholics,  can  best  appreciate 
that  ascetic  answer,  its  circumstance,  and  its  finality.  Surely  it 
was  better,  in  view  of  what  is,  in  a  way  among  us,  the  instinctive 
congregational  jealousy  concerning  the  priesthood,  that  nothing 
should  be  said  or  done  to  recall  a  private  tie  of  the  chief  shepherd. 
It  was  better  that  the  thousands  who  recognized  in  Manning  the 
spark  of  an  almost  matchless  human  sympathy,  should  be  barred 
from  reading  what  sacred  domestic  experience  had  fanned  that 
flame  to  the  great  comfort  of  all  men,  "  Parthians  and  Medes  and 
Elamites,  and  inhabitants  of  Mesopotamia,  and  the  parts  of  Lybia 
about  Cyrene."  And  yet  there  is  to  be  seen  to-day  this  simple 
inscription  on  a  little  cross  against  the  west  wall  of  Woollavington 
churchyard,  an  old  wall  of  flint  and  rubble,  overhung  in  summer 
with  the  delicate  tendrils  and  flowers  of  wild  snapdragon : 

CAROLINE 

WIFE  OF  HENRY  EDWARD  MANNING 
BORN  1812, 

DIED  JULY  24,  1837. 
i 

Some  pilgrim  of  to-morrow  will  wonder  who  put  it  there,  and 
when  it  was  put  there,  since  it  was  not  in  existence  when  the 
Cardinal  died  in  1892.  The  explanation  is  a  simple  one.  Mr. 
Reginald  Carton  Wilberforce,  one  of  the  Bishop's  three  surviving 
sons,  and  heir  to  the  estate,  through  his  mother,  sold  the  property 
about  eleven  years  ago.  Before  leaving  it,  with  its  network  of 
old  and  dear  associations,  to  strangers,  Caroline  Manning's  rela- 


1913.]  THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING  591 

tives  (some  of  whom  could  remember  her)  raised  the  little  head- 
stone above  her  unforgotten  grave.  There  are  others  of  that  race 
laid  in  the  long  row  under  the  wall,  some  with  similar  crosses 
of  stone  or  iron,  lettered  in  red  and  black,  some  with  no  memorial 
at  all.  The  dead  gentry  and  the  dead  rustics  lie  close  here.  No 
divisions,  no  "  lots,"  no  copings,  no  piled-up  inane  marbles !  Only 
a  few  rose-bushes,  and  the  laurel  and  cypress  beyond  the  borders 
mark  this  garden  of  eternal  rest,  utterly  beautiful  in  its  cloistral 
simplicity.  The  sun-shot  woods  almost  overhang  the  graves;  and 
on  the  other  side  is  Manning's  peaceful  church  with  its  red  steep- 
sloping  roofs,  its  lancet  windows  and  quaint  bell-cot.  Church  and 
manor  seem  separated  from  the  outer  world  by  oceans  of  grass 
and  air.  The  loudest  sound  thereabouts  is  the  cheery  light  note  of 
the  linnet,  or  the  rain-like  scurry  of  rabbits  in  the  lane  beside  the 
churchyard.  It  seems  an  micro wded  place,  judged  by  the  few 
unpretending  monuments,  none  more  than  four  feet  high,  until 
one  notices  the  innumerable  unmarked  graves  all  about,  green 
furrows  and  mounds  which  look  exactly  like  the  ripplings  of  a 
quiet  sea.  Then  one  remembers  what  a  long-used  ground  it  really 
is  (closed  now),  and  how  it  served  other  villages,  as  well  as  this, 
for  burying-place  for  time  out  of  mind.  The  ripples  will  die  down 
soon,  and  all  will  be  as  it  was  when  some  mediaeval  bishop  first 
walked  around  it  with  his  incense  and  holy  water,  and  the  cares- 
sing prayers  of  the  Latin  ritual. 

"  Sam.  Oxon  "  is  among  those  who  rest  here ;  his  sailor  son 
upon  his  right  hand,  and  his  wife  upon  his  left.  They  brought 
him  home  in  July,  1873,  from  the  Hampshire  uplands,  where  the 
slight  stumble  of  a  perfectly  trained  horse  had  ended  in  a  moment 
his  valued  life.  For  a  local  memorial  to  him,  they  rebuilt  the 
old  church  at  Graff  ham,  (Manning's  Graff  ham  once) ;  it  is  a  mile 
away,  but  shares,  and  has  always  shared,  one  rector  with  tiny 
Lavington.  But  Lavington  church  has  his  pastoral  staff,  brought 
from  Culdesdon,  and  set  relicwise  in  a  recess  of  the  wall,  and  the 
modern  transeptal  side  chapel  is  full  of  glass  and  brass  which  recall 
his  "  most  dear  memory."  Somehow,  Bishop  Wilberforce,  for  all 
of  his  worth,  usefulness,  piety,  and  wit,  does  not  mean  much  to 
us  Catholics.  He  filled  his  office  acceptably  as  an  Anglican  Right 
Reverend  Father  in  God.  But  we  do  not  feel  quite  towards  him 
as  we  feel  towards  a  Wilson  or  a  Forbes,  or  a  King:  utinam  si 
noster  esses!  Place  him  beside  his  intensely  unworldly  brothers 
and  his  brother-in-law  Manning,  and  Bishop  Wilberforce  looks 


592  THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING  [Aug., 

interesting  as  ever,  but  most  curiously  unsupernatural.  He  had 
been  one  of  Newman's  circle  at  Oriel,  and  he  was  Newman's  dio- 
cesan when  the  final  break  came  in  1845,  an<^  ne  nac^  l°ve(i  New- 
man. May  he  rest  in  peace! 

From  the  union  of  Samuel  Wilber force  and  Emily  Sargent 
have  sprung  several  men  of  mark,  clerical  and  lay,  all  of  whom 
have  clung  to  the  Church  of  England.  But  the  Bishop's  one 
daughter,  Mrs.  Pye,  became  a  Catholic,  as  did  her  husband.  As 
to  the  other  Sargent- Wilberforce  marriage,  it  ended  in  a  far 
more  generous  gift  to  the  Faith.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Wilber- 
force, fools  for  Christ's  sake,  made  a  total  sacrifice  of  their  income, 
their  position,  and  the  advantages  of  their  sheltered  country  life. 
They  came  together  into  the  bosom  of  the  true  Mother  of  souls, 
and  were  richly  blest  in  their  remarkable  children,  full  of  charm 
and  humor  and  holiness.  Chief  of  these  was  their  eldest  son 
Arthur,  better  known  to  us  as  Father  Bertrand  Wilberforce  of  the 
Order  of  Preachers.  His  delightful  and  most  edifying  Life  and 
Letters  will  always  beget  a  great  love  and  veneration  for  his  sainted 
memory,  and  carry  on  the  apostolate  to  which  he  gave  himself 
whole-heartedly. 

Yet  another  daughter  of  Lavington  House,  Mrs.  Ryder,  be- 
came a  Catholic  in  Rome  with  her  little  children  and  her  husband. 
Two  of  their  sons  were  priests  of  immense  power  and  influence, 
whom  we  lost  only  yesterday.  One  was  Father  Henry  Ignatius 
Dudley  Ryder,  Superior  of  the  Birmingham  Oratory,  a  poet  and 
a  controversialist  (an  odd  blend  but  a  fine  one!)  of  extraordinary 
quality.  He  was  destined,  by  a  pleasant  accident,  to  carry  into 
the  sanctuary,  in  his  own  person,  the  full  tradition  of  the  Sargent 
nobleness  of  mien  and  sweetness  of  mind.  His  brother,  Father 
Cyril  Ryder  the  Redemptorist,  was  no  less  active  a  soldier  of 
Christ  up  to  the  threshold  of  old  age.  There  are  other  men,  and 
other  women,  of  the  Sargent  descent  of  whose  goodness  much 
might  be  said. 

Lavington  is  not,  in  the  nature  of  things,  a  place  to  which 
great  changes  come.  The  few  low  vine-hung  cottages  are  what 
they  always  were,  and  there  are  one  or  two  old  people  in  their 
doorways  who  remember  "  Mr.  Manning,"  and  how  sad  they  all 
were  when  he  "  turned  to  Rome."  It  was  a  far,  incredible  journey ! 
and  he  did  not  go  alone,  for  his  curate,  Mr.  Laprimandaye,  went 
with  him;  and  truly  awe-struck  orphans  these  old  folk  felt  in  those 
wonderful  days  when  they  were  young.  They  look  at  you  wistfully 


1913.]  THE  LAVINGTON  OF  MANNING  593 

if  you  tell  them  you  are,  too,  what  they  have  been  taught  to  call  a 
"  Roman."  You  see,  you  cannot  pose  successfully  as  any  kind  of 
a  monster  if  you  fly  the  colors  of  their  Cardinal!  But  if  Lav- 
ington,  including  Beechwood  House,  has  stood  stock-still,  its  manor 
has  not  done  so.  The  east  end,  dignified  and  Georgian,  with  its 
date  over  the  porch,  and  its  great  chimneys  and  beautiful  balus- 
trades, is  all  of  it  which  was  there  seventy-odd  years  ago.  Even 
this  has  a  new  interior.  The  rest  is  all  modern.  The  rich  people 
who  bought  the  estate  have  enlarged  the  house  and  the  lawns  and 
the  gardens,  and  built  big  stables,  and  lodges  to  flank  the  drives. 
The  results  are  not  undignified.  The  Park,  which  was  always 
homelike  and  lovely,  rather  than  romantic,  remains  "  unfussed," 
and  the  funny  little  steep  footways  sink  to  it  from  the  summit 
of  the  Downs  through  the  same  natural  underbrush.  Beyond  the 
sylvan  peace  of  its  situation  and  outlook,  Lavington,  after  all, 
can  have  small  attraction  for  strangers.  Yet  a  certain  intimate 
everlasting  interest  centres  there.  Some  humanist  of  the  Fold  will 
from  time  to  time  find  his  way  thither  to  look  at  Manning's 
altar,  below  its  lowered  chancel  arch :  that  altar  which  was  to  him, 
happily,  "  no  continuing  city/'  although  the  love  of  his  youth  lay 
beside  it,  in  dust.  Such  a  wayfarer  will  think  also,  perhaps,  of  the 
four  sweet  girls  born  in  these  Sussex  woodlands  long  ago :  of  the 
two  who  sleep  here,  and  of  the  Catholic  two  who  sleep  elsewhere 
by  their  Catholic  husbands.  The  great  generative  genius  of  Henry 
Edward  Manning  may  owe  .something  to  one  of  these  graves;  to 
the  tutelary  care,  rather,  of  her  who  on  earth  had  known  only 
the  beauty  of  its  spiritual  twilight.  Protestants  and  pre-Victorians, 
the  Sargent  sisters  grew  up  to  be  the  undeliberate  instruments  of 
an  all-mysterious  Providence.  Magnificently  have  they  helped  to 
build  up  the  walls  of  Sion  in  their  robbed  England,  either  in  them- 
selves, or  in  their  posterity.  Remote  Woollavington,  in  its  measure, 
is  a  seedplot  of  the  saints  of  God. 


VOL.   XCVII.— 38 


THE  RED  ASCENT. 

BY   ESTHER   W.    NEILL. 

CHAPTER  XL 

HE  Colonel  had  been  asked  to  deliver  the  oration 
at  the  Fourth  of  July  picnic.  It  was  a  compliment 
that  he  always  expected.  This  year  he  agreed  to 
make  the  speech  with  his  usual  apparent  reluctance. 
There  was  so  much  "  young  blood  "  in  the  county, 
people  were  "  tired  "  of  hearing  him,  etc.  The  assurances  that  fol- 
lowed these  protests,  tickled  his  insatiable  vanity;  he  would  have 
been  mortally  hurt  if  they  had  turned  to  the  younger  generation  for 
a  representative  man. 

In  this  part  of  the  world  there  were  few  days  that  were  con- 
sidered legal  holidays.  Not  that  the  people  were  consumed  with 
energy,  or  so  puritanical  that  picnicking  was  considered  a  waste  of 
time,  but  they  had  their  prejudices  that  precluded  certain  celebra- 
tions popular  in  other  parts  of  the  United  States.  The  thirtieth  of 
May  was  plainly  a  Yankee  holiday.  Why  should  the  children  of 
these  sharpshooting  Confederates  stop  all  their  legitimate  duties  to 
decorate  the  graves  their  fathers  had  so  cheerfully  made  necessary  ? 
Lincoln's  birthday  was  passed  over  in  charitable  silence.  Labor  Day 
did  not  appeal  to  these  old-time  slave  owners.  Thanksgiving  was  a 
New  England  festival,  instituted  in  a  rigorous  climate  where  all 
fruition  seemed  doubtful,  and  prayer  was  prudently  postponed  until 
the  scanty  crops  were  gathered  into  commodious  barns.  Here,  in 
this  fertile  land,  they  cultivated  a  spirit  of  perpetual  thankfulness 
for  the  warmth  and  sunlight  of  their  Southern  skies. 

Christmas,  of  course,  was  celebrated  with  all  the  old  plantation 
customs;  holiday  for  the  servants  until  the  back  log  burned  away, 
and  the  back  log,  systematically  soaked  in  the  mill  pond,  sputtered 
and  smouldered  for  days  while  the  village  made  merry.  There 
was  calling  and  dancing,  and  an  interminable  exchange  of  presents; 
there  was  rum  punch  and  eggnog  in  every  house,  and  pantry  shelves 
sagged  beneath  their  layers  of  mince  pies,  fruit  cake,  and  other  in- 
digestible provender;  but  Christmas  was  a  festival  kept  within 
doors.  Fourth  of  July  was  the  only  holiday  in  the  year  that  called 
for 'the  oratorical  gifts  of  the  most  distinguished  citizen,  and  on 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  595 

the  third  of  July  the  Colonel  suffered  an  attack  of  laryngitis  that 
reduced  his  grandiloquence  to  an  irate  whisper. 

Jefferson  Wilcox,  who  had  postponed  his  journey  to  Texas  so 
that  he  might  share  in  this  July  jollification,  was  full  of  sympathy. 
He  cranked  up  his  automobile  and  speeded  to  the  nearest  town 
to  bring  atomizers,  prescriptions,  gargles,  but  the  Colonel's  voice 
could  not  be  coaxed  to  a  key  above  a  pathetic  croak. 

"  Dick  will  have  to  go  for  you,"  said  Jeff  consolingly. 

"  Can— can— Dick  talk?" 

"  Talk,"  exclaimed  Jeff  in  some  surprise.  "  Haven't  you  ever 
heard  him  make  a  speech?  Why  he  was  head  of  our  debating 
society.  Won  all  the  prizes.  Why  when  Dick  began  to  talk,  the 
other  side  knew  it  was  all  up  with  them  and  sat  down.  It's  a  gift," 
he  explained  tactfully,  "  a  gift,  no  doubt,  inherited  from  you." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  God  knows  he  comes  by  it 
legitimately.  My  father  was  an  orator.  Could  hold  his  own  with 
men  like  Clay  and  Webster.  Yes,  Dick  will  go  and  take  my  place. 
They'll  run  in  that  'cock-eyed  Yankee  judge'  if  Dick  don't  go.  I'll 
make  him.  Send  him  to  me." 

Jefferson  sauntered  off  to  look  for  Richard.  He  found  him  in 
the  stable  mending  a  stall  that  Spangles,  in  one  of  her  vicious 
moods,  had  pawed  into  splinters. 

"  The  Colonel  wants  you,"  he  said. 

"  What  for?  "  said  Richard  looking  up.  "  I  don't  mind  con- 
fessing that  I'm  trying  to  keep  out  of  the  Colonel's  way  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  Well  his  temper  is  fierce,"  agreed  Jefferson,  "  so  I  don't  know 
how  you  are  going  to  fill  the  bill  as  his  proxy."  He  took  off  his 
hat,  and  assuming  a  ridiculous  attitude  he  added  dramatically, 
"  I  now  have  the  honor  of  presenting  to  you  the  orator  of  the  day, 
Mr.  Richard  Matterson." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Richard  uncomprehendingly. 

Jefferson  sat  down  upon  a  heap  of  straw  and  leisurely  lighted 
a  cigarette.  "  Very  simple  proposition.  The  Colonel  has  lost  his 
voice,  and  insists  that  you  take  his  place  to-morrow.  You  will  pro- 
ceed to  enlighten  your  fellow-citizens  upon  the  glory  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  and  the  loveliness  of  the  ladies,  God  bless 


'em." 


"  I  can't,"  said  Richard.     "  You  know  I  can't." 
"  Can't!     In  the  bright  lexicon  of  youth.     Can't!     I'd  like  to 
know  why  you  can't  ?  " 


596  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

"But  why  should  I?" 

"  The  Colonel  having  lost  his  voice,  fears  a  certain  'cock- 
eyed Yankee  judge!'  Since  a  Matterson  is  pledged  to  the  job,  a 
Matterson  must  go." 

Richard  looked  down  upon  his  mud-stained  trousers.  "  I'd 
cut  a  pretty  figure  in  these  clothes,"  he  said  with  some  show  of 
impatience. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Jefferson  lightly,  "  that  I  saw  a  gray 
suit  of  familiar  angles  hanging  in  my  wardrobe.  If  you  will  accept 
the  loan  of  them  a  second  time — " 

"  Didn't  I  send  those  clothes  back  to  you?  " 

"  I  am  delighted  to  admit  your  absent-mindedness." 

"But  how  can  I  talk,  Jeff?" 

"  How?  "  repeated  Jeff,  sending  circles  of  smoke  into  the  air. 
"With  your  tongue,  man;  with  your  tongue." 

"  Your  jokes,  Jeff,  are  frequently  of  the  vaudeville  variety. 
Excuse  me  if  I  do  not  smile." 

Jeff  grinned.  "  I  was  merely  accentuating  the  obvious. 
Here,  give  me  that  hammer  and  those  nails;  as  a  carpenter  you 
are  not  a  success.  Go  upstairs  and  get  busy  on  your  oration.  Go 
talk  to  the  Colonel.  Seems  to  me  if  I  lived  in  this  county  I'd 
run  for  Congress.  Here's  your  opportunity.  Send  yourself  to 
Washington  on  a  Fourth  of  July  peroration." 

Richard  abandoned  his  work  as  a  carpenter,  and  hurried  to  the 
house  to  register  his  protest,  but  the  Colonel  was  obdurate.  If 
Richard  had  any  sense,  any  judgment,  any  power  for  speech- 
making,  then  there  was  no  escape  from  this  civic  duty.  If  he  had 
intended  to  become  a  "  preacher,"  he  must  have  received  some  train- 
ing in  oratory  that  would  enable  him  to  talk  in  a  way  that  would 
reflect  credit  on  the  family.  The  Colonel's  face  was  growing 
apoplectic  as  he  choked  out  the  various  reasons  why  his  son  should 
represent  him,  and  Richard,  realizing  that  this  whispered  colloquy 
was  increasing  the  Colonel's  irritation,  finally  agreed  to  go. 

With  a  wet  towel  wound  around  his  head  to  offset  the  drowsi- 
ness that  now  seemed  habitual,  Richard  sat  up  all  night,  and  labored 
over  his  first  county  speech.  Towards  dawn  he  had  finished,  but 
his  mind  was  too  busy  to  sleep.  He  took  off  his  shoes  and  crept 
softly  down  the  stairs,  meaning  to  go  out  on  the  porch,  and  lie 
down  under  the  paling  stars  and  wait  for  the  sunrise,  but  as  he 
passed  the  library  door,  he  saw  that  the  lamp  still  burned  upon  the 
centre  table,  and  going  into  the  room  he  found  the  Colonel  lying  in 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  597 

a  drunken  stupor  on  the  floor.  Lifting  him  tenderly,  he  placed  him 
upon  the  leather  lounge  in  the  corner,  and,  covering  him  with  an 
old  raincoat,  he  went  out  into  the  daydawn,  his  heart  heavy  with 
a  sense  of  failure. 

He  had  longed  to  be  a  moral  force  in  the  world,  and  yet  here, 
in  his  own  home,  he  wielded  no  influence.  Of  what  use  were  his 
high  aspirations,  his  cultivated  idealism?  He  had  believed — and 
the  belief  had  been  accepted  humbly — that  he  had  been  chosen  to 
better  a  sin-stained  world;  to  bring  a  sense  of  the  supernatural 
into  toiling  lives;  to  ease  their  burdens  with  immortal  promises, 
and  now,  as  he  stood  leaning  against  the  white  pillar  of  the  porch 
and  facing  the  dim  glow  in  the  eastern  sky,  he  wondered  at  the 
darkness  that  seemed  to  be  engulfing  him.  Why  had  he  believed 
himself  to  be  chosen  to  give  his  life  to  others?  Had  he  no  right 
to  his  own  energy ;  no  right  to  the  ease  that  in  the  years  to  come  his 
own  energy  might  bring?  He  had  struggled  so  hard  for  his  edu- 
cation; had  he  no  right  to  the  intellectual  enjoyment  that  comes 
to  the  scholar  in  a  life  of  tranquil  plenty?  If  he  had  millions — 
the  Fielding  millions — he  could  employ  others  to  do  his  work  for 
him;  he  could  build  churches,  orphan  asylums,  colleges.  He  need 
not  offer  himself  as  a  laborer  in  the  Lord's  vineyard.  He  could 
grasp  at  the  beauty,  the  love,  the  liberty  that  the  world  offers  with- 
out sacrificing  himself  to  priestly  functions.  In  the  stillness  of 
the  dew-wet  morning  he  seemed  to  hear  that  blatant  cry  as  old  as 
creation :  "  I  am  not  my  brother's  keeper."  Why  had  he  believed 
that  he  was,  and  believing,  why  had  he  changed  ? 

He  had  been  forced  by  circumstances  out  of  the  seminary,  and 
he  had  worked  in  a  sort  of  torpor  ever  since.  To-night  his  speech- 
making  had  roused  him  to  intellectual  activity  again.  He  ques- 
tioned himself  endlessly,  and  his  merciless  introspection  made  him 
doubtful  of  all  his  motives.  But  when  the  sun  rose,  he  was  calmed 
by  the  familiar  objects  around  him.  Why  should  he  dream  of 
impossible  contingencies?  Why  should  he  worry  himself  with 
vague  motives  when  his  present  duty  was  so  clearly  defined  ?  For 
the  first  time  he  welcomed  the  arduous  tasks  of  the  morning — 
they  offered  him  an  escape  from  himself. 

-  *  *  *  * 

The  small  platform,  decorated  with  red  and  white  bunting  and 
reserved  for  the  celebrities  of  the  county,  creaked  ominously  as 
Richard  stepped  upon  it.  The  chairman  of  the  "  committee  on  en- 
tertainment "  regretted  at  great  length  Colonel  Matterson's  dis- 


598  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

ability,  and  then,  with  carelessly  concealed  apologies,  introduced 
"  his  son." 

The  good-humored  picnickers  crowded  closer;  they  were  so 
used  to  the  Colonel's  oratorical  flights  that  they  welcomed  a  change 
of  programme;  the  foreigners  from  the  Fielding  coal  mines,  who 
were  there  in  holiday  attire,  fastened  their  trusting  eyes  upon  the 
young  man  who  was  to  tell  them  of  the  freedom  of  this  country, 
which  they  had  sought  and  failed  to  find. 

A  number  of  automobiles,  carriages,  hay  wagons  had  formed 
themselves,  a  hastily  improvised  dress  circle,  around  the  stage, 
when  Miss  Fielding  rode  up  on  horseback.  Betty,  who  was  sitting 
beside  Jefferson  in  his  big  touring  car,  called  out  to  her  to  come 
and  join  them. 

"  Your  horse  may  get  frightened  by  the  fireworks,"  Richard 
heard  Betty  say. 

"  Dear  me,  is  his  speech  going  to  be  as  pyrotechnic  as  all  that  ?  " 

Betty  flushed  her  confusion.  "  The  firecrackers  are  to  come 
afterwards,"  she  explained,  and  she  introduced  Jefferson,  who  held 
out  a  willing  hand  to  assist  the  pretty  stranger  into  his  hospitable  car. 

To  Richard's  own  surprise  her  presence  seemed  to  add  to 
the  stimulation  he  always  felt  when  facing  an  audience.  He  glanced 
at  his  notes  and  began. 

It  was  a  strange  speech  for  a  conservative  county  to  listen  to, 
and  a  stranger  speech  for  Colonel  Matterson's  son  to  deliver.  The 
"  cock-eyed  Yankee  judge  "  was  roused  to  some  degree  of  interest; 
the  laborers  from  the  mines  lost  their  expression  of  dull  hopeless- 
ness. Richard's  voice  was  full  and  resonant  as  he  went  on: 

"  Liberty  is  a  divine  right — an  indelible  mark  imprinted  on  our 
souls  that  have  received  the  heritage  of  free  will  from  the  in- 
spiration of  an  Almighty  God. 

"  In  the  eyes  of  the  world  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was 
a  daring  protestation;  the  signers  placed  their  lives  in  jeopardy. 
Have  we  measured  up  to  the  ideal  that  they  placed  before  us? 
Have  we  not  abused  our  privileges  of  freedom?  Less  than  fifty 
years  ago  we  bartered  for  immortal  souls  in  this  old  slave  market ; 
now,  though  we  no  longer  buy  and  sell  in  name,  we  bargain  for 
laborers  for  less  than  they  can  live  upon.  Capital  is  but  an  added 
responsibility  in  the  eternal  scheme  of  things — a  power  to  be  used 
for  or  against  us  in  the  judgment." 

As  he  proceeded,  old  Major  Brown  and  General  Cartwright, 
who,  were  seated  on  the  stage  behind  him,  frowned  their  displeasure ; 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  599 

though  they  begrudgingly  conceded  that  the  Colonel's  son  had  sur- 
passing ofatorical  gifts,  his  ideas  were  dangerous  and  misleading. 
He  was  disrupting  the  doctrine  of  predestination  that  so  many  of 
the  church-going  audience  found  consoling,  and  he  was  talking  as 
if  the  half -human  creatures  from  the  mines,  the  niggers  in  the  fields, 
were  made  of  the  same  material  as  a  "  gentleman."  Souls,  no 
doubt,  were  vaporous  commodities  without  color,  but  as  long  as  a 
man  had  the  health  and  strength  to  remain  in  his  own  body  there 
were  distinctions;  some  people  were  born  to  privileges,  and  some 
were  born  to  none,  so  why  make  such  believe  they  had  any? 

But  when  he  had  finished,  the  .applause  sounded  so  deafening 
that  the  General  and  the  Major  were  ashamed  not  to  add  a  few  feeble 
handclaps  to  the  general  tumult.  After  all  Richard  Matterson  was 
a  product  of  their  own  State,  the  son  of  their  oldest  friend,  so  that 
even  if  his  education  had  been  faulty,  even  if  they  did  not  approve 
of  his  ideas,  he  deserved  some  commendation  for  his  brilliant  rhe- 
torical phrases. 

Jefferson,  from  his  high  vantage  ground,  beamed  his  pleasure 
at  this  ovation.  He  saw  the  foreigners  from  the  mines  press  for- 
ward to  shake  Richard's  hand;  he  noticed  a  new  light  in  Richard's 
eyes ;  the  light  that  comes  at  the  end  of  successful  effort ;  but,  having 
felt  the  response  of  his  audience,  he  did  not  care  for  the  after 
praise;  he  wedged  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  automobile. 

"  Here  get  me  out  of  this,"  he  said  to  Jefferson. 

Jefferson  demurred.  "  I  thought  we  had  come  to  a  picnic," 
he  said. 

"  Crank  up,"  said  Richard.  "  If  we  have  any  food  I  suppose 
we  can  eat  it  just  as  well  ten  miles  from  here." 

"  You  are  coming  to  my  house  to  lunch,"  said  Miss  Fielding. 
"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  didn't  know  you  could  talk  so  well." 

He  looked  down,  seeming  to  realize  for  the  first  time  that  she 
was  seated  close  to  him.  "  I  thought  you  were  on  horseback," 
he  said  lamely. 

"  I  was,"  she  laughed,  "  it  seems  that  I  ought  to  be,  since  I 
have  received  no  invitation  to  ride  with  you,  but  my  groom  can  take 
my  horse  back  to  the  stable  if  I  am  permitted  to  stay  here." 

"  We're  delighted,"  said  Jefferson  hastily. 

"  Then  turn  down  that  road,"  she  commanded,  "  to  the  left. 
Prunesy  will  be  waiting  for  us  I  know." 

"  We  really  cannot  go  to  lunch,"  said  Richard,  laying  a  re- 
straining hand  upon  the  steering  wheel.  "  We  really  cannot  go." 


6oo  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

"  Now,  Dick,  don't  spoil  things,"  pleaded  Betty.  "  He  has 
some  absurd  notions,  Jessica." 

"  Tell  me.     I  like  absurd  notions." 

*'  Oh,  I  see,"  said  Jefferson.  I've  been  as  blind  as  a  bat.  Must 
have  been  dazzled  by  your  unexpected  appearance,  Miss  Fielding. 
I  quite  forgot." 

"What?" 

"  That  you  were  Miss  Fielding,"  he  added  awkwardly. 

"  You  all  talk  in  riddles,"  she  smiled,  "  and  I  can  guess  them 
every  one.  Betty  told  me  a  week  ago.  Mr.  Jefferson  Wilcox, 
lawyer,  called  as  counsel  by  Richard  Matterson  who  is  curious  about 
a  Texas  land  claim.  Didn't  I  suggest  your  looking  into  it  fully 
two  months  ago?  If  you  act  upon  my  suggestion,  why  should  I 
quarrel  with  you  ?  Now  will  you  come  home  to  lunch  ?  " 

"  Well  of  all  amazing  law  cases !  "  gasped  Jefferson. 

"  It's  all  foolishness,"  said  Betty.  "  We  haven't  a  shadow 
of  a  chance  to  prove  our  claim.  I  told  Jess  because  I  knew  it 
would  amuse  her,  and  I  thought  it  only  fair  to  let  her  know  that 
we  were  not  as  friendly  as  we  seemed." 

"  I  like  enemies,"  said  Miss  Fielding  reflectively.  "  There's  a 
certain  distinction  in  having  them.  Now  will  you  come  home 
with  me,  or  are  you  going  to  ask  me  to  get  out  ?  " 

"  Even  Dick  wouldn't  be  so  rude  to  a  lady  as  all  that,"  laughed 
Jefferson.  "  I  think  we  shall  accept  your  invitation." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  summer  fashion,  common  in  the  county,  of  reducing  rooms 
to  funereal  darkness,  and  shrouding  furniture  in  drab  petticoats,  had 
not  been  followed  in  the  Fielding  household.  When  chairs  and 
sofas  looked  uncomfortably  warm,  they  were  covered  with  art- 
linens  as  beautiful  in  coloring  as  the  brocade  or  velour  beneath; 
the  paintings  on  the  walls  were  not  befogged  with  layers  of  mos- 
quito netting;  the  valuable  art  objects  were  not  stowed  away;  the 
doors  and  windows  were  left  wide  open,  then  carefully  screened, 
and,  where  the  sun  was  too  bright,  awnings  had  been  added,  or 
tall  shrubs  had  been  arranged  to  produce  shadow  without  gloom. 

As  Richard  entered  the  long,  cool  library,  and  looked  at  the 
rare  volumes  that  stretched  from  floor  to  ceiling,  he  felt  that  he 
had  returned  to  a  cherished  world  from  which  he  had  long  been 
banished.  To  own  books,  to  buy  them  without  stint,  this  had 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  601 

always  been  one  of  his  daydreams.  The  few  volumes  that  he  had 
been  able  to  purchase  in  the  past,  had  meant  denial  of  his  actual 
necessities.  He  had  delved  into  vault-like  second-hand  shops  where 
dim  gas  jets  seem  to  burn  unremittingly,  and  he  had  spent  hours 
poring  over  the  musty  shelves,  while  the  thin,  faded  proprietor 
eyed  him  suspiciously.  He  had  bought  his  favorite  authors  in 
ragged  cloth  and  paper,  bringing  them  into  the  daylight  half- 
ashamed  that  he  could  provide  them  with  no  worthier  habiliments. 
Poets,  saints,  and  sages — and  here  they  were,  familiar  friends  ar- 
rayed as  they  deserved  to  be,  attesting  to  the  art  of  bookbinding. 

"  I'll  never  leave,"  he  said.  "  Til  stay  here  for  a  year  or  two." 
He  sank  down  in  an  armchair  by  the  table,  oblivious  to  the  fact 
that  the  ladies  were  standing,  and  picking  up  a  volume  of  Ruskin 
he  began  to  read,  apparently  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
not  alone. 

"  Leave  him,"  said  Jefferson  smiling.  "  We'll  go  eat  our 
lunch  and  forget  him." 

"Forget  him,"  repeated  Miss  Fielding.  "Yes,  that's  what 
he  deserves.  We  will  try  to  forget  him  if  we  can." 

There  was  something  about  her  tone  that  arrested  Jefferson's 
attention,  and  he  asked  curiously,  "  You  two  are  old  friends?  " 

"  Friends  ?  Well,  I  don't  believe  he  would  acknowledge  it. 
This  is  his  first  visit,  and  you  see  how  he  behaves." 

Her  half -laughing  words  found  their  way  to  Richard's  ears. 
"  Forgive  me,"  he  said  getting  up.  "  I'm  a  barbarian  when  I  get 
among  books.  I  haven't  seen  any  for  so  long.  I  believe  the  sight 
of  such  riches  went  to  my  head." 

"  It  is  a  fine  library,"  she  admitted.  "  It  was  owned  by  an 
impractical  dreamer,  who  spent  his  days  and  nights  shut  in  from 
the  world  while  his  sons  gambled  his  fortune  away,  until  there 
was  nothing  left  but  the  books.  Then,  when  the  old  dreamer  was 
dying,  he  sent  for  father.  'These  books  have  been  my  only  friends/ 
he  said.  'I  have  spent  a  lifetime  among  them,  now  I  must  sell 
them  to  someone  who  will  promise  to  keep  the  collection  complete/ 
So  father  bought  even  the  bookcases,  and  then  had  the  walls  of  the 
room  built  to  fit.  It's  a  topsy-turvy  story,  for  a  man  usually 
selects  his  own  library,  and  his  books  typify  his  own  tastes,  his  own 
ideals,  but  father  has  had  to  fashion  his  mind  and  build  his  room 
to  fit." 

"But  don't  we  all  do  that?"  said  Richard. 

"Do  what?" 


602  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

"  Fit  our  minds  to  receive  the  best  things — the  noblest  things 
of  life?" 

"  I  thought  some  of  us  were  ready-made,"  she  laughed.  "  As 
for  myself — " 

"  Go  on." 

"  No,  I'll  not  talk  about  myself.  Prunesy  says  I  talk  too  much. 
What  I  need  is  criticism.  I've  never  had  enough  of  it.  In  fact, 
I've  had  so  little  that  I  don't  receive  it  patiently.  I'm  headstrong, 
domineering,  thoroughly  unpleasant  when  I  get  ready.  Didn't  I 
bring  you  all  here  to-day  in  spite  of  your  protests  ?  Perhaps  after 
lunch  you  will  forgive  me." 

"  Forgive  you,"  repeated  Jefferson.  "  You  never  heard  me 
protest." 

"  Nor  me,"  said  Betty. 

"  Well,  then  it  was  Dick.  One  would  fancy  that  he  was  half- 
afraid  of  me." 

Richard  stood  in  the  doorway  holding  aside  the  light  portiere 
for  the  others  to  pass.  "  Perhaps  I  am,"  he  said  in  an  undertone. 

Her  face  flushed.  She  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  but  made  no 
reply;  and  the  next  moment  she  was  busy  placing  her  guests,  and 
introducing  little  Miss  White  who  presided  over  the  silver  tea  urn. 

It  was  a  merry  meal.  Jefferson's  joy  was  contagious,  Betty 
loved  the  good  things  of  life,  and  openly  confessed  that  she  was 
"  dreadfully  tired  "  of  home  products.  Grape  fruit,  olives,  salted 
almonds,  bon  bons,  all  the  luxuries  of  the  table  were  partaken  of 
with  unfeigned  delight  in  their  novelty.  Miss  White  kept  her  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles  focused  upon  Jessica,  an  adoring  look  of  maternal 
solicitude  in  her  watery-blue  eyes ;  Miss  Fielding  seemed  brimming 
over  with  good  will  towards  the  guests  that  she  had  captured. 

"  It  was  very  unflattering,  Prunesy,"  she  explained;  "  but  I  had 
to  bring  my  company  by  force." 

"  Don't  say  that  again,"  pleaded  Betty.  "  You  know  I  wanted 
to  come." 

"  Bless  you,  child,  I  believe  you  did,  but  then  you  weren't  going 
to  law.  I  know  it's  very  bad  form  to  mention  it,  but  Dick  here 
thinks  he  has  a  claim  to  our  Texas  land,  and  this  is  Mr.  Wilcox, 
his  lawyer,  employed  to  prove  it." 

Miss  White  dropped  her  fork.  It  rattled  against  her  plate,  and 
left  a  dent  in  the  flowered  rim.  "  What — what's  that?  "  she  asked, 
and  her  voice  quavered. 

"  Prunesy,  dear,  I  know  my  unforgiveable  manners  have  al- 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  603 

ways  given  you  grave  concern;  I  know  I  shall  be  a  source  of  great 
embarrassment  to  my  husband,  if  I  ever  find  one." 

"  Are — are  you  looking  for  one  ?  "  asked  Jefferson  audaciously. 

"  Of  course,  all  girls  look  more  or  less,  though  they  won't  ac- 
knowledge it.  Women  keep  on  hugging  the  delusion  that  they  are 
sought — sought  by  half  a  hundred  suitors,  when  half  the  time 
they  don't  have  one  to  their  names  until  they  go  and  look  for  him." 

"  My  dear — my  dear,"  remonstrated  Miss  White.  "  I'm 
sure—" 

"Sure  of  what,  Prunesy?  Times  have  changed  since  you 
were  a  girl.  You  wore  hoop-skirts  and  an  adorable  scoop  bonnet, 
and  if  you  hadn't  lived  in  coldblooded  Massachusetts  no  doubt  you 
would  have  been  a  coquette  instead  of  a  conservative.  Don't  be 
sure  of  anything,  now,  except  your  eternal  salvation — don't  be  too 
sure  of  me — " 

"  But,  my  dear,  you  know  you  have  been  greatly  admired." 

Jessica  laughed :  "  Oh,  I  know  it's  unconventional  to  talk  about 
one's  matrimonial  chances,  but  you  know,  Prunesy,  and  I  don't  mind 
confessing,  that  I  have  not  seen  any  brilliant  openings  as  yet.  Let 
me  see,"  she  began  to  count  gravely  on  her  fingers,  "  there  was  the 
count,  a  ridiculous  little  idiot  who  wanted  my  money ;  the  German 
professor  who  wanted  my  help  in  the  house;  that  college  boy  we 
met  on  the  steamer — he  needed  a  mother,  and  that  bald-headed 
old  bachelor  who  wanted  to  be  rejuvenated  by  some  young  com- 
panionship. Men  are  selfish.  I'll  stick  to  you  and  Beppo,  Prunesy." 

"  Fortunate  Beppo,"  murmured  Jefferson.  "  Is  he  man  or 
bird  or  beast?" 

"  He's  over  there,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  canary  that  hung  in  a 
gold  cage  by  the  window.  "  He  will  come  if  I  call  him."  She 
gave  a  faint  whistle.  "  I  forgot  the  cage  is  fastened.  Open  it, 
Dick.  Remember  how  you  used  to  charm  birds  in  the  old  days 
when  you  were  a  boy?  I  suppose  you  have  grown  too  intellectual, 
too  bookish,  for  that  sort  of  thing  now." 

He  rose  to  do  her  bidding,  and  unfastening  the  gilded  door  he 
made  a  strange  sound  with  his  lips,  and  the  bird  fluttered  to  his 
finger.  "  See,"  he  said  triumphantly,  holding  the  bright  bird  at 
arm's  length.  "  I  don't  believe  the  mind  has  anything  to  do  with 
sympathy." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  abstractions,"  said  Betty.  "Sit  down, 
Dick,  and  finish  your  lunch.  I  think  hearts  and  heads  are  the  same." 

"  My  dear  Betty,"  laughed  Jessica,  "  we  couldn't  be  as  unana- 


604  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

tomical  as  that.  I  will  acknowledge  that  hearts  are  continually 
getting  in  the  way  of  heads,  but  then  I  suppose  that  was  ordained 
since  the  beginning." 

"And  if  you  could  choose  between  them,"  suggested  Jeff, 
would  you  prefer  the  'brilliant  matrimonial  opportunity*  to  have 
a  heart  or  a  head  ?  " 

"  A  heart,"  answered  Betty  promptly. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Miss  Fielding,  her  eyes  twinkling,  "your 
wedding  would  be  a  painful  affair — a  guillotined  groom  to  begin 
with." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,  Jess.  Would  you  rather  a  man 
love  you  with  his  heart  or  his  head  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Miss  Fielding  fed  sugar  to  Beppo  without  an- 
swering. 

"  I  think  I  should  prefer  his  head,"  she  said  at  length. 

"You  are  right,  my  dear,"  said  little  Miss  White  with  start- 
ling emphasis.  "  A  man  who  loves  with  his  head  knows  the  reason 
why,  and  if  he  loves  with  reason — " 

"  But  isn't  all  love  unreasonable?  "  said  Jefferson. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  answered  Richard. 

"You!"  exclaimed  Jefferson.  "Now  that's  the  last  thing 
I  expected  you  to  say." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,"  interrupted  Betty,  "  you  don't  know  anything  about 
it.  You  never  knew  any  girls;  you  never  had  anything  to  say  to 
them  when  you  were  at  college,  and  I'm  sure  since  you  have  been 
home  I  can't  drag  you  out  to  see  any." 

Richard  pushed  back  his  chair.  "  You  people  south  of  Mason 
and  Dixon's  line  are  all  sentimentalists,"  he  said  good-humo redly. 
"  There's  all  kind  of  love  in  the  world.  If  you  don't  know  one 
kind,  you  may  know  another,  but  I  know  there's  not  enough  of 
any  kind  to  go  round." 

"  Dick  won't  be  personal,"  sighed  Jefferson.  "  When  you 
think  you  have  him  cornered,  he  goes  floating  off  in  the  nebula 
of  speculation.  If  everybody  loved  everybody  else  we  lawyers 
would  be  out  of  a  job." 

"  There  are  still  the  Texas  lands,"  suggested  Jessica  with  a 
mischievous  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 

Miss  White  looked  up,  and  fingered  her  dessert  spoon  nerv- 
ously. "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  exactly  what  you  mean,"  she 
began.  "  Is— is  there  any  doubt  as  to  your  Texas  claim,  Jessica  ?  " 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  605 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl  still  smiling.  "  Dick  and  Mr. 
Wilcox  are  the  conspirators.  They  say  grandfather  forged  the 
title." 

"  Forged !  "  repeated  the  old  lady. 

"  It's  a  long  time  ago,"  said  Jessica,  "  and,  of  course,  if  father 
has  no  right  to  the  land  he  will  give  it  back.  I  know  I'm  not 
going  to  quarrel  about  it.  I'm  tired  of  having  money  anyhow. 
I  don't  want  to  sit  forever  on  a  hilltop  like  a  lily  of  the  field,  doing 
nothing." 

"  Aren't  you  getting  your  similes  slightly  mixed  ? "  asked 
Richard. 

"  Well,  perhaps,"  she  admitted,  "  if  you  didn't  have  a  sense 
of  humor  to  save  you,  Dick,  your  solemnity  would  make  you  un- 
bearably dull.  Don't  worry,  Prunesy.  If  I  have  to  retire  to  a  cave 
or  a  hut  I'll  take  you  with  me.  If  I'm  reduced  to  a  state  of  penury 
I'll  study  trained  nursing  or  keep  a  cent  shop,  and  sell  innocuous 
lollipops  to  children." 

But  Miss  White  was  not  listening:  "Forged,"  she  repeated 
again  dully.  "  Did  anybody  ever  accuse  your  grandfather  before  ?" 

"  My  dear  Prunesy,  I  never  knew  my  grandfather,  and  I  don't 
know  that  I  regret  the  slight  divergence  in  our  ages  that  kept  us 
apart.  From  all  I  ever  heard  of  him,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  sort 
of  thug,  beating  his  way  through  the  world,  and  flogging  my  poor 
father  whenever  he  felt  in  the  humor." 

"  But  if  he  forged?  "  repeated  the  old  lady. 

"  Then  you  better  pray  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  I'm  sure 
he  needs  it." 

She  turned  the  conversation  to  other  things.  She  criticized 
Richard's  speech;  then  finding  that  her  praise  worried  him,  she 
invented  more  fulsome  compliments.  No  one  noticed  when  little 
Miss  White,  pale,  trembling  and  without  apology,  arose  from  the 
table  and  hastily  left  the  room. 

Jefferson  was  in  his  happiest  mood.  To  have  the  company 
of  his  best  friend,  combined  with  the  society  of  pretty  girls,  seemed 
to  him  a  most  fortunate  occurrence.  He  was  charmed,  and  at 
the  same  time  puzzled,  by  Miss  Fielding.  If  Dick  and  she  were 
such  old  friends,  why  had  not  Dick  mentioned  her  name  before? 
Was  Dick's  indifference  to  her  overtures  real  or  fancied,  for  she 
was  certainly  making  overtures  of  friendship  that  any  other  man 
would  have  found  irresistible,  or  perhaps  she  was  merely  flirting 
with  him  because  she  was  curious  to  know  how  he  would  respond 


6o6  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

to  such  treatment.  Animated  by  some  half-formed  sense  of  loy- 
alty that  he  did  not  stop  to  analyze,  Jefferson  strove  to  preserve 
Richard's  pinnacle  of  prudence;  he  began  to  tell  absurd  stories  of 
their  college  days  that  accentuated  Richard's  position  of  aloofness. 

It  was  a  gay  party,  and  the  guests  did  not  leave  until  twilight. 

"  Have  you  had  a  good  time?  "  said  Jessica  at  parting,  as  she 
stood  for  a  moment  with  her  hand  in  Richard's.  "  I  tried  to  make 
you  feel  uncomfortable.  It's  my  way  of  getting  even." 

"For  what?" 

"  For  you  being  an  ice  man,"  she  taunted. 

His  face  looked  white  in  the  afterglow  of  the  sunset.  "  Are 
you  sure  that  I  am  ?  "  The  question  was  all  the  more  real  to  her 
because  it  was  uttered  with  no  trace  of  gallantry ;  it  had  been  forced 
from  his  confidence,  and  seemed  half  ah  appeal  for  enlightenment. 

Jefferson  was  industriously  cranking  his  machine.  "  I  hate 
the  French  as  a  nation,"  he  said,  "  but  I  believe  they  know  every- 
thing. Who  was  the  fellow  that  wrote  Woman  is  like  a  shadow, 
fly  and  she  follows,  follow  and  she  flies  ?' " 

"  I'm  not  quite  sure,"  said  Richard,  "  but  your  judgment  is 
bad,  Jeff.  Besides,  French  epigrams  sound  more  sensible  in 
French." 

"  But  my  fragile  French,"  began  Jefferson. 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  French?  Didn't  I  teach  you 
myself?" 

Jefferson  laughed.  "  That's  the  reason  I'm  afraid  to  use  it," 
he  said. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Early  next  morning  when  Richard  was  busy  in  the  garden,  he 
received  a  fragrant  note  from  Miss  Fielding,  asking  him  to  call 
as  soon  as  he  conveniently  could,  and  begging  him  not  to  allow 
Mr.  Wilcox  to  start  for  Texas  until  the  next  day.  The  postscript 
added :  "  Can  you  imagine  Prunesy  the  heroine  of  a  melodrama  ? 
Where  does  one  buy  lollipops  wholesale  ?  " 

The  possibilities  that  this  final  sentence  implied  haunted  him 
all  day,  and  he  was  so  distracted  at  luncheon  that  even  the  Colonel 
noticed  his  abstraction,  and  called  him  to  account. 

"  You're  about  to  put  the  sugar  spoon  in  the  gravy.  For  the 
Lord's  sake,  what's  the  matter  with  you,  Dick  ?  " 

/'  I've  just  had  a  most  extraordinary  note  from  Miss  Fielding," 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  607 

he  said.  "  I  believe  she  has  discovered  something  about  the  Texas 
land  claim." 

"  Don't  believe  her/'  stormed  the  Colonel. 

"  But  she  seems  to  think  it  will  be  to  our  advantage." 

"  She  wants  to  compromise,  that's  what  she  wants  to  do. 
She's  afraid  of  a  lawsuit.  She  knows  they  will  lose.  Her  grand- 
father ought  to  be  in  jail." 

"  Why  he's  been  dead  years  and  years,"  said  Betty  mildly. 

"  Then  no  doubt  he's  in  ,"  said  the  Colonel  with  great 

finality.  "  Mike  Fielding  was  a  scoundrel ;  I  haven't  any  use  for 
any  of  his  brood." 

Jefferson  opened  his  lips  to  protest,  but  realizing  that  any 
contradiction  would  increase  the  Colonel's  irritation,  he  turned  the 
conversation  to  county  politics. 

The  Colonel  at  once  waxed  eloquent,  the  laryngitis  days  of 
forced  silence  had  left  him  more  than  unusually  loquacious.  Jef- 
ferson was  a  flattering  listener,  and  the  Colonel  had  not  yet  re- 
covered from  his  sense  of  surprise  that  Dick  should  make  such 
an  agreeable  and  presentable  friend  during  the  years  that  he  had 
seemed  barred  from  all  normal  desires  by  a  bulwark  of  books. 

It  was  not  until  after  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  that 
Richard  felt  free  to  obey  Miss  Fielding's  summons.  All  kinds 
of  trifling  tasks  had  claimed  his  attention.  The  hogs  had  rooted 
into  the  cantaloupe  patch  and  had  to  be  driven  out,  and  the  sty 
boarded  up  at  the  bottom  to  prevent  further  devastation;  a  pest 
of  some  sort  was  on  the  potatoes,  and  he  had  spent  two  hours  in 
an  atmosphere  of  Paris  green;  Aunt  Dinah  complained  that  a  part 
of  her  stove  pipe  had  fallen  down,  and  that  the  kitchen  was  full 
of  smoke;  he  wrestled  with  this  unaccustomed  problem  until  his 
hands  and  face  were  as  black  as  a  chimney  sweep's,  and  he  had 
to  go  for  a  bath  in  the  swimming  pool  before  he  was  recognizable. 
Then  he  dressed,  mounted  Spangles,  and  rode  along  shaded  bridle- 
paths until  he  reached  the  black  barrenness  of  the  mines. 

The  cabins  of  the  miners  built  like  lean-tos  in  the  shadow  of 
the  hill,  looked  unbearably  warm  for  human  habitations.  The  July 
sun,  slanting  towards  the  westward,  was  beating  down  upon  the 
worn  door  sills,  where  half-naked  children  played  listlessly.  In 
front  of  one  or  two  of  the  cabins  an  imaginative  woman  had 
struggled  for  a  bit  of  green  in  her  garden,  and  the  few  sickly 
plants  that  had  struck  root  below  the  layers  of  coal  dust  bloomed 
bravely,  making  the  dullness  around  them  more  complete. 


6o8  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

But  it  was  a  short  stretch  of  sterility.  All  the  wooded  hills 
seemed  full  of  life  and  color,  and  the  creaking  of  the  machinery  in 
the  old  shaft  house  sounded  a  discordant  note  among  the  bird 
calls.  Spangles  passed  quickly  up  the  road,  around  the  bend  of  en- 
circling trees,  into  the  carefully-planned  Italian  garden  now  bloom- 
ing with  rare  exotics.  Jessica  was  waiting  for  her  visitor  in  a 
rustic  arbor,  which  was  overgrown  with  climbing  roses. 

"  I've  been  watching  you  for  some  time,"  she  said,  making  a 
place  for  him  on  the  bench  beside  her.  "  See,  if  you  part  these 
rose  vines,  you  can  look  down  the  road  all  the  way  to  the  mines. 
When  the  new  houses  are  built  the  valley  will  not  seem  so  dismal." 

He  realized  vaguely  that  she  was  in  a  softer  mood  than  he 
had  yet  seen  her ;  her  eyes  were  full  of  tenderness  and  sympathy  in- 
stead of  dancing  light ;  she  was  dressed  in  some  thin  blue  stuff  that 
accentuated  the  bronze  in  her  hair;  her  hands  played  idly  with 
some  wisps  of  honeysuckle  that  had  crept  sinuously  along  the 
lattice  work,  threatening  to  choke  the  roses. 

Richard  was  silently  comparing  the  heat,  the  dust,  the  grime 
of  the  mines  with  the  charm  of  this  breeze-swept  paradise.  He  had 
always  found  sharp  contrasts  mystifying.  The  silence  continued 
for  some  time.  Then  she  began  again  in  her  old  bantering  way: 

"  Your  promptness  is  very  flattering.  I  have  been  waiting 
for  you  all  day." 

"  I  did  not  know  the  sun  had  set,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Weren't  you  interested  in  my  revelations  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  heard  them  yet." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  hear  them  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Does  it  seem  amazing  that  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  you  do  seems  amazing." 

"Is  that  a  compliment?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  smiling.  "  It  happens  to  be  the 
truth." 

"  Do  you  know  that  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  been  to  see 
me?" 

"  I  thought  I  was  here  yesterday." 

"  You  were  brought  yesterday." 

"And  to-day?" 

"  You  were  summoned,"  she  laughed,  but  there  was  a  lack  of 
spontaneity  about  it  that  he  noted  dimly.  "  I  sent  for  you  because 
Primesy  told  me  a  story  last  night,  and  I  want  to  tell  it  to  you." 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  609 

He  made  no  reply,  waiting  patiently  for  her  to  go  on.  From 
the  first  she  had  bewildered  him,  and  now,  as  he  sat  watching  her, 
her  companionship  seemed  very  pleasant  and  desirable,  or  perhaps — 
after  all  it  might  be  the  charm  of  this  rustic  retreat  after  his  long 
hot  ride  up  the  hill. 

"Did  you  notice  that  Prunesy  was  agitated  yesterday?"  she 
began.  ;, 

"  No." 

"  And  she  left  the  room  before  we  were  quite  through  lunch- 
eon ?  " 

"  I  did  not  notice." 

"  I  knew  that  something  had  happened,  for  she  possesses  so 
much  formal  politeness,  and  she  went  without  apology,  without 
bidding  you  good-bye.  She  told  me  the  reason  last  night.  Between 
her  New  England  conscience  and  her  fear  of  doing  me  harm,  she 
was  almost  incoherent,  but  I'll  patch  the  facts  together  as  well 
as  I  can." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  have  distorted  the  facts." 

"  No,  my  mind  is  not  acrobatic.  Don't  you  want  to  hear  the 
story?" 

"  I'm  not  quite  sure." 

"  Story-tellers  need  some  sort  of  impetus." 

"  Go  on  then,"  he  said  resignedly. 

"Well,  it's  all  ancient  history,"  she  began  again,  "so  I'll 
begin  with  our  grandfathers.  Yours  was  a  type  of  the  old-time 
aristocrat;  mine  seems  to  have  been  an  uneducated  boor  from  the 
mountains.  Your  grandfather  was  in  the  Mexican  war,  and  after 
the  war  he  staid  in  Texas,  or  he  went  back  there  some  years  later 
to  try  cattle  raising  or  farming  on  a  big  tract  of  land  he  had  ac- 
quired for  his  services  in  the  army,  or  perhaps  he  had  bought  the 
ranch,  I  don't  know  which.  My  grandfather  went  down  there 
as  his  overseer,  but  they  fell  out.  Prunesy  isn't  sure  of  the  details, 
and  she  is  so  charitable  that  she  never  likes  to  mention  anyone's 
failings,  but  I  fancy  they  flew  at  each  other's  throats  and  flourished 
pistols  and  tomahawks  and  bowie  knives.  I  like  to  .think  of  all  the 
picturesque  paraphernalia  that  seems  to  belong  to  the  early  days 
of  Texas. 

:<  Well,  into  this  wild,  woodsy  place  Prunesy  was  sent  to  teach 
school.  Of  course,  she  didn't  want  to  go,  but  there  weren't  many 
positions  open  to  women  in  those  days,  and  Prunesy  must  have 
been  a  suffragette  in  embryo,  for  she  didn't  want  to  live  with 

VOL.  xcvu. — 39 


6io  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

either  of  her  two  married  sisters,  she  wanted  to  be  independent. 
An  old  friend  of  her  mother's  was  living  in  Texas,  and  he  offered 
her  the  position  as  school-teacher.  Prunesy  was  only  seventeen; 
she  had  heard  dreadful  stories  of  cowboys  and  Indians,  but  she 
put  her  fears  in  her  capacious  pockets — they  had  pockets  in  those 
days — and  she  started  on  her  perilous  way.  Prunesy  says  the 
school  wasn't  so  bad,  she  liked  children,  and  your  grandfather, 
who  happened  to  live  in  the  neighborhood — I  suppose  twenty-five 
or  fifty  miles  was  counted  as  neighborhood  in  those  days — used 
to  ride  over  quite  frequently  to  see  how  she  was  getting  on.  She 
was  the  only  young  lady  in  the  vicinity.  'He  never  actually  made 
love  to  me;'  Prunesy  carefully  explained,  'but  he  paid  me 
little  attentions'  that  she  seems  to  have  found  most  gratifying. 
Twice  he  brought  her  oranges  from  Galveston,  and  three  times  he 
ordered  candy  shipped  all  the  way  from  New  Orleans ;  she  seems  to 
have  kept  numerical  account  all  these  years. 

"  My  private  opinion  is  that  Prunesy  rather  lost  her  head. 
She  was  a  little  Puritan,  you  see,  not  used  to  the  ways  and  wiles  of 
Southern  men.  If  Prunesy  was  the  only  pretty  girl  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, I'm  sure  your  grandfather  said  all  sorts  of  pleasant  things 
that  she  accepted  literally." 

Richard  smiled.     "  Are  all  Southern  men  like  that?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  returned  his  smile 
half-heartedly.  "  Not  all,  but — you  are  an  alien." 

"  Do  you  like  aliens  ?  "  and  as  soon  as  he  had  said  it,  he  won- 
dered at  his  own  question. 

"Women  need  some  encouragement,"  she  began;  then  she 
seemed  confused  and  added :  "  You  are  very  impolite  to  interrupt 
my  story;  don't  you  want  to  hear  the  end?  " 

"  I  promise  not  to  speak  again.     Go  on." 

"  Where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yes,  we  had  reached  the  orange  and 
candy  stage,  and,  then,  there  was  poetry — he  sent  her  some  verses 
tucked  away  among  the  oranges.  I  know  it  was  very  sentimental. 
Everybody  wrote  poetry  in  the  old  days,  even  George  Washington. 
Terrible  habit  wasn't  it?  " 

His  eyes  twinkled.  "  Was  Washington  a  Mexican  war  vet- 
eran ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Now,  Dick,  don't  be  so  accurate ;  the  fact  that  two  people 
wrote  atrocious  verses  doesn't  prove  that  they  lived  in  the  same  gen- 
eration. Now  let  me  go  on.  "  One  day  your  grandfather  came 
to  the  school  and  Prunesy  was  out.  One  of  the  children  had  broken 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  611 

its  arm  or  leg  at  recess,  and  had  to  be  carried  home.  Your  grand- 
father wrote  his  name  on  the  blackboard.  Don't  suppose  they 
worried  with  cards  down  there,  and  he  wanted  her  to  know  he  had 
called. 

"  Prunesy  came  back  sometime  later  to  straighten  up  the 
room,  and  close  the  doors  and  windows  for  the  night.  While 
she  was  at  work  sorting  the  children's  exercises  she  heard  a  foot- 
step, and  thinking  it  was  your  grandfather  she  went  on  with  her 
work.  Why  are  women  like  that,  pretending  indifference?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  instead  of  your  grandfather  in  walked  mine.  Prunesy 
was  too  loyal  to  me  to  describe  him,  but  she  did  acknowledge  she 
was  frightened.  He  was  so  big,  she  said,  and  he  talked  like  he 
had  a  cold  in  his  throat,  and  he  had  a  six-shooter  stuck  in  his  belt 
in  full  view.  He  asked  if  she  was  the  school-teacher,  and  she  had 
to  confess  that  she  was;  he  said  he  wanted  some  'learnin','  but  he 
wasn't  willing  'to  go  to  school  with  kids.'  Would  she  give  him 
some  lessons  after  hours,  he  would  pay  her  well  for  them.  I  suspect 
that  Prunesy  had  inherited  a  thrifty  spirit  along  with  her  other 
virtues,  and  she  wasn't  averse  to  turning  an  honest  dollar;  so  she 
agreed  to  his  proposition  at  once.  He  wanted  to  begin  that  after- 
noon. That's  good  writin'  on  the  board,  ain't  it?'  he  said.  Td  like 
you  to  learn  me  to  write  like  that;  that's  the  name  I  want  to  copy.' 

"  He  came  regularly  after  that  for  a  month,  and  every  day 
Prunesy  taught  him  to  write  like  your  grandfather.  One  day 
she  said:  'I'll  set  you  another  copy,'  but  he  protested.  'I  don't 
want  to  learn  to  write  like  a  woman ;'  he  said  'that  is  the  way  I  want 
to  write,'  and  he  spent  hours  just  copying  that  signature.  She  told 
me  that  his  progress  in  reading  was  'astounding.'  At  the  end  of  the 
month  he  paid  Prunesy  fifty  dollars,  and  she  never  saw  him  again. 
The  rest  of  the  story  was  hazy.  Your  grandfather  didn't  make 
a  success.  Cattle  all  got  lumpy  jaw,  or  something,  and  he  went 
East,  settled  down  in  his  old  home,  and  married  and  died,  but  he 
seems  to  have  been  the  only  romance  in  Prunesy 's  life,  and  you  re- 
vived all  the  old  recollections — your  name,  the  resemblance  and  the 
old  uniform.  That  night  of  the  masquerade  she  actually  believed 
that  you  were  your  grandfather's  spirit.  Now  you  see  the  point  is 
this :  My  grandfather  must  have  had  some  reason  for  wanting  to 
copy  your  grandfather's  signature;  and  our  talk  about  the  forged 
deed  the  other  day  at  luncheon  set  Prunesy  to  thinking  that  perhaps 
she  was  responsible  for  the  whole  affair." 


6i2  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Aug., 

"  But  the  story  really  doesn't  prove  anything,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  But  it  can  be  made  to  prove  things.  Prunesy  knows  the 
exact  date — she  is  always  exact — that  your  grandfather  left  Texas. 
If  the  deed  is  dated  after  that  time,  don't  you  see?" 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  he  admitted  reluctantly,  "  but  where  does  this 
leave  you  ?  " 

"  Why  I — I'll  sell  lollipops,"  she  answered  smiling. 

He  took  her  hand  impulsively  in  his.  "  I  can't  go  on,  Jessica," 
and  she  noticed  that  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  used  the  old 
familiar  name.  "  I  can't  go  on  and  impoverish  you.  I've  been 
poor  all  my  life.  How  could  you  give  up  all  this?"  his  eyes  swept 
the  stately  house,  the  flowering  gardens.  "  It's  worse  for  a  girl 
to  make  her  way.  I  have  my  health  and  strength." 

"  So"  have  I." 

"  But  it  is  so  much  easier  for  a  man." 

"  The  whole  of  life  is  harder  for  women,"  and  the  smile  was 
gone  now.  "  Can't  you  see  that  I  want  you  to  have  things,  Dick  ? 
Don't  you  know  that  I  have  seen  the  struggle  you've  been  making?  " 

"  But  I  cannot  take  it  from  you,  Jessica.     I  can't  go  on." 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  A  wild  hope  was  in  her  heart,  her  hands 
trembled  a  little  among  the  honeysuckle,  but  he  did  not  see.  He 
was  looking  past  her  through  the  tangle  of  rose  vines  down  at  the 
blackened  mining  camp  below. 

"  It  is  not  fair,"  he  said  slowly.     "  It  is  not  fair." 

Her  face  was  white  now.  "  It  is  the  Colonel's,"  she  said 
slowly.  "  If  you  do  not  care  for  yourself,  it  is  the  Colonel's  and 
Betty's." 

"  But  it  may  all  be  a  myth  after  all,"  he  said  reflectively.  "  The 
fact  that  Miss  White  taught  your  grandfather  to  write  does  not 
prove  anything  conclusively." 

"  But  it  will  help  to  prove  something." 

But  apparently  he  did  not  hear  her.  A  wail  of  fear  had  come 
echoing  from  the  valley.  Richard  started  to  his  feet.  "  What's 
that  ?  "  he  cried.  Through  the  rose  vines  they  could  see  men  and 
women  scurrying  like  ants  towards  the  mines.  "  There — some- 
thing has  happened  down  there.  I  must  go — go  and  see  if  I  can 
help."  And  without  a  word  of  parting,  he  mounted  Spangles  and 
went  galloping  down  the  sun-baked  road,  leaving  Jessica  alone  in 
the  arbor. 

[TO   BE   CONCLUDED.] 


THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE. 

BY  JOSEPH  FRANCIS  WICKHAM. 

HERE  is  no  solitary  guest  in  the  Sala  di  Saturno  in 
the  Pitti  Gallery,  but  the  room  has  been  well  peopled 
with  visitors  from  the  moment  the  doors  swung  open 
in  the  morning;  and  if  this  is  your  first  acquaintance 
with  the  magnificent  palace  Brunelleschi  designed  for 
Messer  Luca  Pitti,  you  will  wonder  what  great  art  work  is  holding 
all  so  rapt  and  solemnly  attentive  in  admiring.  But  even  upon  enter- 
ing the  hall,  you  make  the  discovery.  There  near  the  door  hangs  the 
picture  by  which  you  will  best  remember  Florence,  and  which  will 
link  itself  in  association  with  the  ten  or  twelve  others  that  you  will 
choose  to  represent  in  your  own  soul  all  European  painting,  and  that 
in  an  especial  way  symbolize  your  own  art  canons  and  beliefs. 
For  you  are  looking  at  Raphael's  "  Madonna  della  Sedia."  No 
tenderer  conception  of  the  Madonna  has  ever  been  attempted,  and 
one  doubts  if  a  sweeter  and  more  touching  group  could  be  painted 
than  this  trio  of  Virgin  and  Child  and  Saint  John.  Less  majestic, 
less  queenly,  perhaps,  than  its  Dresden  sister,  possibly  inferior  in 
technique,  this  picture  cannot  be  surpassed  for  the  soulful  sympathy 
in  the  faces,  the  watchful,  half-bodeful  caring  of  pure  mother  love. 
There  is  tranquil  joy  in  the  Mother's  countenance,  but  withal  a 
thoughtful,  serious  expression  that  pierces  the  veil  of  the  morrow 
and  sees  the  sadness  of  the  end.  The  Child  is  baby-like,  trustful, 
with  all  His  world  seeming  to  rest  in  the  precious  clasp  of  the  Vir- 
gin-mother, still  with  a  face  and  head  that  possess  nobility  and 
stately  mien;  and  the  face  of  the  youthful  John  is  prayerful  and 
angelic  and  all-spiritual.  For  long  you  are  compelled  to  look  upon 
this  circular  painting,  and  you  will  come  back  to  the  Pitti  many 
times  to  renew  your  love;  and  if  you  were  disposed  to  make  a  fetish 
of  objects  of  art,  I  think  you  would  wander  far  without  find- 
ing a  worthier  idol  than  the  "Madonna  della  Sedia." 

There  are  other  masterpieces  by  Raphael  in  the  Pitti  palace. 
In  the  same  room  there  is  the  "  Madonna  del  Granduca,"  a  work 
of  his  Florentine  period.  It  was  painted  six  years  earlier  than 
the  more  noted  Madonna,  and,  reflecting  more  of  the  style  of  his 


614  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  [Aug., 

master,  Perugino,  in  its  simplicity  and  quietness,  is  well  worthy  of 
Raphael's  growing  genius.  In  the  portrait  of  Pope  Julius  the 
Second,  of  which  he  made  several  replicas,  one  may  observe  the 
wonderful  execution  which  only  the  nephew  of  Bramante  could 
achieve. 

The  Pitti  is  indeed  a  gallery  of  masterpieces.  The  faultless 
Andrea  del  Sarto  is  represented  here  by  the  "  Assumption  "  and  the 
famous  "  Holy  Family ;"  Fra  Bartolommeo  is  remembered  by 
the  "  Risen  Christ,"  the  "  Marriage  of  Saint  Catherine,"  and  the 
exquisitely  pathetic  group  of  the  "  Pieta."  Paolo  Veronese's 
"  Venetian  Scholar,"  Fra  Filippo  Lippi's  "  Madonna  and  Child," 
the  well-known  "  Concert "  of  Giorgione,  and  the  "  Deposition  " 
of  Perugino  are  also  among  the  treasures ;  and  many  another  work 
of  art  that  the  Medici  dukes  brought  together  into  this  splendid 
palace.  Perhaps  it  is  Titian  that  may  be  said  to  share  ascendancy 
here  with  Perugino's  famous  pupil.  There  are  ten  pictures  from 
his  hand,  the  most  noteworthy  being  portraits.  One  may  look 
upon  the  cunning,  able,  vulgar  face  of  the  prince  of  blackguards 
and  blackmailers,  Pietro  Aretino,  the  sad  countenance  of  Ippolito 
de'  Medici,  and  the  marvelously  beautiful  and  romantic  figure  of 
the  "  Young  Englishman." 

The  charm  of  the  Pitti  palace  does  not  exhaust  itself  in  its 
pictures.  But  outside,  between  the  gallery  and  the  palace  proper, 
lie  the  magnificent  Boboli  Gardens.  The  name  is  derived  from  that 
of  the  family  who  once  lived  in  a  house  here.  Cosimo  the  First 
laid  out  the  grounds,  and  adorned  them  with  statuary  and  fountains. 
From  the  amphitheatre  of  seats  one  may  have  a  lovely  view  of  the 
spires  and  pinnacles  of  Florence,  and  the  mass  of  sunlit  trees  on  the 
green  hills  beyond  the  town.  It  is  delightful  to  rest  here  for  a 
moment,  and  under  the  shading  cypress  and  pine  breathe  the  fra- 
grant air  that  seems  to  blow  fresh  and  blithe  from  Arcadia. 

The  halls  of  the  Uffizi  galleries  are  more  numerous  than  those 
of  the  Pitti,  and  offer  a  wider  survey  of  the  various  schools  of 
painting.  The  pictures  which  the  two  great  palaces  contain,  un- 
questionably form  the  greatest  collection  of  paintings  of  the  Italian 
schools  of  art  in  the  world.  In  the  Uffizi  palace  are  also  to  be 
found  noted  pieces  of  sculpture,  an  excellent  collection  of  jewels 
and  drawings,  and  valuable  libraries  rich  in  association  and  intrinsic 
worth. 

The  Tuscan  school  of  art  is  represented,  among  other  works, 
by  the  lovely  "  Coronation  of  our  Lady  "  of  Lorenzo  Monaco,  monk 


1913.]  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  615 

of  the  Angeli  in  Florence;  by  the  exquisite  masterpiece  of  Fra 
Angelico,  the  "  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,"  and  by  his  famous 
altar  pieces;  by  the  beautiful  "  Madonna  "  of  Fra  Filippo  Lippi,  his 
only  picture  in  the  entire  gallery;  by  the  "  Madonna  of  the  Mag- 
nificat "  of  Botticelli ;  by  the  well-faded  "  Adoration  of  the  Magi ;' 
of  Leonardo  da  Vinci ;  by  the  lovely  "  Annunciation "  of  Ver- 
rocchio,  once  thought  to  be  Leonardo's,  too ;  by  the  "  Adoration  of 
the  Child  "  of  Fra  Bartolommeo ;  and  by  the  "  Holy  Family  "  of 
Michelangelo,  one  of  the  two  pictures  he  painted  outside  of  Rome. 

When  we  come  to  a  contemplation  of  the  Umbrian  school,  we 
shall  find  it  well  messaged  by  the  work  of  Perugino,  its  greatest 
master,  save  Raphael,  who  really  was  of  Rome.  Perugino  has 
four  pictures  here,  three  portraits,  and  the  "  Madonna  and  Child  " 
in  the  octagonal  Tribuna.  His  pupil  Raphael  has  the  "  Madonna 
del  Cardellino  "  and  a  replica  of  the  portrait  of  Julius  the  Second, 
which  is  in  the  Pitti  palace.  The  religion  and  mystic  sweetness 
of  soul  that  Umbria  ever  exhales  is  evident  in  the  altar  piece  of 
Gentile  da  Fabriano,  and  in  the  beauteous  colored  panels  of  the 
"  Annunciation  "  of  Melozzo  da  Forli. 

Titian,  to  be  sure,  is  the  great  master  of  the  Venetian  school, 
and  in  the  Uffizi  galleries  he  may  be  seen  to  advantage,  though  a 
larger  number  of  his  pictures  are  in  the  Pitti  halls.  The  portraits 
of  Eleonora  Gonzaga  and  Francesco-Maria  della  Rovere,  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Urbino,  and  of  Bishop  Beccadelli,  are  typical  of  his 
better  work.  His  friend  Giorgione  is  remembered  here  by  his 
rare  portrait  of  the  "  Knight  of  Malta."  The  teacher  of  these  two, 
Giovanni  Bellini,  one  of  the  earlier  masters  of  the  Venetian  school, 
is  represented  by  one  of  the  finest  works  of  the  Quattrocento,  the 
allegorical  grouping  in  which  our  Lady  rests  beside  a  lagoon, 
with  the  several  saints  near  by  in  the  wondrous  landscape. 

Siena  and  her  school  offer  the  magnificent  "  Annunciation  " 
of  Simone  Martini,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  most  graceful 
of  all  religious  paintings.  The  Northern  schools  are  seen  in  the 
marvelous  triptych  consisting  of  the  "  Three  Kings,"  the  "  Pre- 
sentation," and  the  "  Ascension,"  and  in  the  "  Madonna  and  Child 
among  the  Flowers,"  both  by  Mantegna ;  and  in  the  "  Madonna  and 
Child  with  Angels  "  and  the  "  Repose  in  Egypt "  by  Correggio. 

Obviously  enough  these  are  but  a  choice  few  of  the  Uffizi 
pictures;  many  others  will  share  the  hours  and  days  you  will  wish 
to  bestow  upon  the  vast  collection  founded  by  the  Medici  in  the 
palace  which  Vasari,  the  historian  of  Italian  painters,  built  for 


6i6  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  [Aug., 

Cosimo  the  First.  Then  when  you  are  rested  in  mind  from  the 
patient  and  lovable  work  of  dreaming  the  dreams  of  these  artist- 
poets,  you  will  go  over  some  day  to  the  Academia  di  Belle  Arti, 
once  St.  Matthew's  Hospital,  near  the  Piazza  San  Marco. 

In  the  Academia  there  are  few  paintings  of  highest  merit,  but 
an  excellent  idea  of  the  earlier  work  may  be  gained  here,  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  art  of  the  Florentine  school  through  Giotto  onward. 
Gentile  da  Fabriano's  masterpiece,  the  lovely  "Adoration  of  the 
Shepherds,"  is  in  this  gallery,  and  Fra  Angelico's  wonderful  "Last 
Judgment;"  and  an  exquisite  "Adoration"  by  Ghirlandajo.  Bot- 
ticelli is  represented  by  several  pictures,  one  of  which,  the  "  Prima- 
vera,"  seems  to  sing  the  pagan  Hellenism  of  the  new-come  Ren- 
aissance. More  interesting  than  any  of  the  paintings  one  will  find 
Michelangelo's  gigantic  "  David,"  which  once  stood  near  the  gate 
of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  a  position  the  sculptor  himself  chose  for 
his  work. 

It  is  in  the  Bargello,  that  castellated  structure  built  in  1265 
for  the  Capitano  del  Populo,  and  later  the  palace  of  the  Podesta, 
that  Michelangelo  once  more  is  seen  as  the  matchless  sculptor. 
Such  he  discloses  himself  in  the  drowsy  dream-poise  of  the  "  Bac- 
chus," no  less  than  in  the  calm  strength  and  beauty  of  the  relief  of 
the  "  Holy  Family."  Here,  too,  his  great  predecessor,  Donatello, 
expresses  in  marble  and  bronze  and  terra  cotta  the  genius  that 
Phidias  passed  on  over  the  bridge  of  the  years.  Better  than  else- 
where in  the  world  may  his  works  be  studied  here,  for  there 
are  ten  of  his  creations  in  the  Bargello,  beside  a  great  many  casts 
of  his  statues  that  rest  in  other  cities.  The  "  Marzocco  "  is  in 
this  museum,  the  fantastic  lion  that  used  to  stand  in  front  of  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio;  the  youthful  figure  of  John  the  Baptist,  with  the 
rapt,  half-melancholy,  half-pondering  expression  which  bodies  forth 
the  soul-beauty  of  him  whose  voice  was  crying  in  the  wilderness; 
the  beautiful  terra  cotta  bust  of  Nicola  da  Ozzano;  and  the  marble 
"  Saint  George."  Probably  his  best  work  is  this  statue  of  the 
dragon  slayer,  with  all  the  faith  and  fire  and  fearlessness  of  the 
hero  caught  in  the  chiselled  stone.  As  one  looks  upon  the  lively 
figure,  one  can  understand  why  Michelangelo  whispered  to  it,  as 
he  stopped  to  admire,  the  command,  "  March." 

The  wonderful  sweetness  of  the  work  of  Luca  della  Robbia 
and  his  nephew  Andrea,  and  the  other  exponents  of  their  peculiar 
school,  is  to  be  won  here  by  all  who  will.  The  lovely  terra  cotta 
conceptions,  flowering  in  blue  and  white,  like  precious  fleurs-de-lis, 


1913-]  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  617 

are  blossomed  forth  in  the  exquisite  perfection  of  many  a  Madonna 
and  Annunciation. 

Another  sculptor  beside  Michelangelo  and  Donatello  and  the 
Robbia  family  you  may  study  in  the  Bargello.  It  is  Andrea  Ver- 
rocchio,  one  of  the  greatest  masters  of  the  second  half  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  A  pupil,  perhaps,  of  Donatello,  he,  too,  has 
chosen  to  be  known  as  a  maker  of  a  "  David,"  a  superb  figure  stand- 
ing in  the  calm  consciousness  of  strength  over  the  slain  giant  at 
his  feet.  Willingly  one  will  also  admire  his  bust  of  Monna  Vanna 
degli  Albizzi,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sculptures  of  the  whole 
Renaissance. 

Florence  is  brimful  of  the  art  of  the  Renaissance  and  the 
years  before.  One  can  never  reach  an  end  to  the  maze  of  bronze 
and  marble  and  wild-flower  terra  cotta.  But  one  needs  frequent 
withdrawals  from  the  joyful  study  of  the  galleries  to  avoid  the 
weariness  that  knows  no  value  in  anything  save  laughing  waters 
and  the  blue  sky.  Driving  through  the  fair  Cascine  gardens  will 
afford  one  delightful  afternoons,  when  the  shadows  are  stretching 
out  and  the  sun  lets  one  look  upon  its  face  while  it  makes  ready 
to  say  its  arrivederci.  Here  where  once  the  dairy  farm  of  the 
grand  dukes  extended,  it  is  pleasant  to  feel  the  cooling  air  wafted 
through  the  ilex  and  pine.  As  one  enjoys  the  quiet  life  of  the 
green  fields  near  by,  and  the  scenes  of  beauty  that  lie  onward  toward 
Bellosguardo,  the  thoughts  of  the  great  men  come  flooding  back. 
Cimabue  is  no  misty  figure  in  mythland,  Mino  da  Fiesole  seems 
quite  alive,  Orcagna  is  more  than  a  sounding  echo  from  the  past. 

Probably  on  more  than  one  afternoon  you  will  drive  up  to  the 
hill  of  San  Miniato  by  the  Viale  dei  Colli,  which  begins  at  the  Porta 
Romana  near  the  Boboli  Gardens.  Nothing  more  charming  can  be 
wished  for  than  this  enchanting  road,  winding  gracefully  through 
gardens  of  red  and  white  roses,  amid  bordering  masses  of  magnolia 
and  laurel,  between  tall  and  green-waving  planes  and  elms,  with  the 
afternoon  drowsy  from  the  delicious  odors  that  drench  the  air, 
and  tuneful  with  the  joyous  humming  of  the  bees  and  the  trilling 
speech  of  the  little  yellow-breasted  birds.  Soon  you  come  close 
to  the  city  fortification  that  Michelangelo  laid  out  in  1529,  and, 
within  its  protection,  the  great  church  of  San  Miniato. 

The  church  of  San  Miniato  is  a  fine  old  edifice  of  lovely 
marble,  built  in  the  eleventh  century  in  commemoration  of  a  saint 
who  suffered  martyrdom  under  the  Emperor  Decius  in  the  mid- 
third  century.  It  is  an  interesting  chapter  that  Villani  writes  in 


6i8  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  [Aug., 

the  Cronica,  of  the  seeking  out  of  the  hermit  Miniato  by  the 
emperor,  who  was  then  at  Florence.  Miniato,  it  seems,  was  living 
in  solitude  among  the  quiet  shelter  of  the  trees  of  Arisbotto  di 
Firenze,  a  wood  behind  the  site  of  the  present  church.  He  had 
left  his  kingdom  in  Armenia  for  this  humble  position  in  Christ's 
service,  and  was  happy  in  the  prayerful  heights  above  the  Arno. 
But  Decius  offered  the  one-time  prince  gifts  of  great  value  to  allure 
him  to  the  old  ways:  no  gifts  could  win  over  the  loyal  hermit. 
So  the  thoroughgoing  Decius  offered  him  instead  the  torments 
which  Roman  persecution  had  devised;  and  in  the  end  Miniato 
was  beheaded.  But  by  a  miracle,  as  the  legend  runs,  the  martyr 
replaced  the  head  upon  his  trunk  and  ascended  the  hill,  where 
the  bodies  of  many  martyrs  lay  buried.  When  he  had  reached 
the  place  where  his  church  now  stands,  he  gave  up  his  soul  to 
God.  A  little  church  was  soon  built  in  his  honor,  but  it  was  many 
centuries  afterward  that  the  great  church  was  erected,  which  now 
is  so  noble  and  venerable  to  look  upon. 

Indeed  the  church  of  San  Miniato  is  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
Tuscan-Romanesque  churches  remaining  in  Florence,  and  within  its 
peaceful  walls  are  precious  memorials  of  the  old-time  art.  Among 
them  is  Rossellino's  masterpiece,  that  exquisite  tomb  of  the  youth- 
ful Cardinal  Jacopo  of  Portugal.  Many  an  old  Florentine  has  wor- 
shipped in  this  temple,  and  as  one  walks  down  the  broad  nave,  one 
can  almost  fancy  Brunetto  Latini's  immortal  pupil  kneeling  near 
one  of  the  ancient  pillars,  rapt  in  visions  of  paradise. 

When  you  leave  the  tranquil  aisles  and  their  paling  frescoes, 
and  emerge  again  into  the  air,  it  is  to  see  a  Campo  Santo  along 
the  terraces,  a  city  of  the  dead  rising  in  ghostly  array  of  stately 
marble  tombs  and  humble  graves  not  less  impressive  in  their  simple 
adornments.  Flowers  are  growing  beside  the  pathways,  and  amid 
the  white  crosses  over  the  graves  roses  and  ferns  may  be  seen,  the 
quiet  offerings  a  loving  hand  has  given  to  those  who  rest  here  in 
the  pleasant  dreams  of  eternity.  It  is  all  very  beautiful  and  calm 
and  peaceful.  As  you  walk  amid  the  tombs  and  read  the  names 
here  and  there,  you  think  Florence  has  chosen  well  when  she  grants 
this  fair  hill  to  her  children  as  one  by  one  they  go  back  to  the 
mother  of  all. 

Standing  on  the  church  terrace,  you  turn  from  thoughts  of 
frail  mortality  to  the  serene  life  of  the  wonderful  maiden  city  be- 
neath you.  For  lovely  Florence  is  down  in  the  valley,  sweet  and 
delicate  and  ever  young,  blossoming  like  a  sun-favored  flower- 


1913.]  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  619 

garden,  and  perfect  in  the  exquisite  harmony  of  her  growing  ver- 
dure. Circling  the  vale  of  beauty  extend  the  olive-green  crests 
of  the  Tuscan  Apennines,  with  the  Carrara  hills  a  misty  purple- 
blue,  and  the  villas  of  Milton's  Fiesole  smiling  happily  over  the 
way.  In  the  midst  of  the  fragile  fairy  city  the  slow-flowing  Arno 
moves  westward,  burning  a  long  golden  gleam  across  the  summer 
afternoon.  The  bower  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  the  Campanile  of 
Giotto,  and  the  world-famed  dome  of  Brunelleschi  rise  above  all 
else  in  the  valley,  but  you  can  see  the  spire  of  Santa  Croce,  too, 
and  many  another  palace  and  pinnacle  glorified  in  the  bright  sun, 
and  shining  full  worthy  of  the  princess  city  at  your  feet.  The 
shadows  are  closing  in  from  the  foothills,  and  so  before  evening 
falls  you  will  leave  the  quiet  terrace  and  go  down  the  hill  into 
the  town.  You  will  cross  the  river  by  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  the  old 
bridge  with  the  little  shops  bordering  its  memory-laden  pathway, 
and  onward  you  will  hasten  along  the  Lung'  Arno  to  the  welcome 
of  home. 

So,  indeed,  we  once  came  from  San  Miniato  on  the  evening 
before  we  left  Florence.  When  late  night  came,  and  it  was  time 
to  enter  slumberland,  we  could  not  banish  our  day  wanderings 
from  our  minds,  but  all  our  Florentine  days  wished  most  eagerly 
to  mingle  with  the  full-lived  days  of  old,  and  the  visions  of  the 
past  came  trooping  by,  like  a  gaily-colored  procession,  with  fan- 
tastic banners  and  blue  and  green  and  crimson  lights  alluring  us 
to  gladsome  watching.  All  of  Florence's  great  citizens  woke 
to  life  under  the  spell  of  imagination,  and  we  could  see  them  all, 
with  never  a  son  or  foster-child  missing  from  the  resurrected  com- 
pany. Donatello,  Brunelleschi,  Ghiberti,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Luca 
della  Robbia,  Boccaccio,  Machiavelli,  .Galileo,  Vespucci — but  a  leg- 
ion of  mighty  Caesar  would  scarce  enroll  them  all.  Infinitely  easier 
were  little  Pippa's  counting  that  sunlit  day  in  Asolo.  It  is  as  if 
the  guardian  spirit  of  Florence  should  gently  drop  into  a  silver 
bowl  a  rose  for  every  one  of  the  city's  distinguished  children,  red 
roses  and  white  and  yellow  and  sunset  pink,  such  as  blossom  on 
the  hills  of  Fiesole,  until  the  broad-brimmed  vase  heaps  high,  and 
the  circling  lips  overflow,  and  nothing  but  roses  can  be  seen  all 
about.  For  even  so  are  the  sons  of  old  Florence,  even  as  this  the 
fair  city  overflows  with  the  famed  flowers  of  her  own  bloom. 

So  the  fairy-host  in  the  darkness  will  weave  their  fragile 
tapestry.  In  the  twilight  middle  way  between  wakeful  dreaming 
and  dreamful  sleep,  I  saw  Cellini  at  night  near  his  furnace  while 


620  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  [Aug., 

the  fire's  gleam  shadowed  him  on  the  wall,  and  I  watched  the  tense, 
grave  face  bidding  encouragement  until  soon  the  artist- joy  leaped 
to  his  eyes  as  the  mold  filled  and  his  "  Perseus  "  was  coming  right. 
My  soul  traveled  down  a  winding  lane,  and  met  some  Donatello 
coming  home  in  the  near-morn  from  a  night's  loving  toil  in  the 
atelier.  And  farther  on  I  passed  a  poor  artisan  with  the  coat  of 
a  peasant  and  the  soul  of  a  genius,  stealing  his  way  through  the 
shadows,  while  he  jealously  clasped  the  silver  goblet  on  which  he 
had  wreathed  a  Medici  crest.  I  could  see,  as  I  projected  myself  into 
the  pulsing  days  of  the  Renaissance,  the  lights  glowing  at  a  stately 
palace  window,  where  a  pallid  scholar  was  patiently  transcribing 
a  treasured  copy  of  the  Phado  for  Cosimo  de'  Medici.  I  could 
see  the  never-wearying  Villani  writing  his  voluminous  chronicles 
in  the  house  on  the  Via  Giraldi.  I  could  see  Dante  smiling  and 
glad  in  the  old  house  on  the  Via  San  Martino,  in  the  days  of  the 
"  vita  nuova,"  and  the  child  Beatrice,  crimson-clad  and  beautiful  and 
sweet  at  the  May-day  festa  within  the  Portinari  grounds.  I  be- 
held up  at  old  San  Marco  monastery  a  gentle  Fra  Angelico  pray- 
ing at  night  in  a  lonely  cell,  and  waiting  the  dawn  that  would  once 
again  call  his  frescoed  dream-paintings  to  life. 

Then  I  would  seem  to  be  standing  on  Taddeo  Galdi's  Ponte 
Vecchio,  looking  into  the  Arno,  where  every  shadow  falling  from 
the  arches  and  shops  gathers  a  pensive  memory  of  the  goldsmiths 
of  old,  and  the  glass  workers  and  the  weavers  of  lace  and  the 
venders  of  precious  gems ;  and  not  least  of  all,  a  memory  of  young 
Buondelmonte,  whose  death  near  the  statue  of  Mars  brought  the 
memorable  struggle  which  rent  Florence  in  twain.  Traveling  in 
spirit  across  the  bridge,  I  would  see  near  the  Pitti  palace  the  win- 
dows of  Casa  Guidi,  where  the  author  of  Aurora  Leigh  lived 
so  many  years,  and  died  in  1861.  My  imagination  would  now 
carry  me  through  the  roll  of  all  the  foreign  wooers  of  the  Muses' 
flame,  who  came  to  Florence  and  loved  her  and  lived  within 
her  hill-cinctured  welcome:  Montaigne,  Milton,  Gray;  Smollett, 
Samuel  Rogers,  Shelley,  Coleridge,  Leigh  Hunt ;  Browning,  Ruskin, 
Landor,  George  Eliot;  Charles  Lever,  Dickens,  Mrs.  Trollope, 
Arthur  Hugh  Clough;  Cooper,  Hawthorne,  Longfellow,  Lowell, 
Mark  Twain,  and  many  more  beside. 

Though  I  was  asleep  now,  Florence,  the  beautiful,  would  not 
leave  me,  and  my  slumbers  were  sweetly  colored  by  the  roseate 
thoughts  of  the  day.  Still  the  mural  portrait  of  Dante  in  the  Bar- 
gello  would  come  into  my  visions,  and  the  "  Winged  Mercury  V  of 


1913.]  THE  CHARM  OF  FLORENCE  -621 

Giovanni  da  Bologna,  and  that  perfect  Gothic  shrine  Orcagna 
made  in  the  church  of  Or  San  Michele,  and  the  "  Madonna  della 
Cintola  "  in  her  oval  mandorla,  sculptured  above  the  north  door  of 
the  Duomo,  and  the  fresh  young  faces  of  the  singing  boys  on  the 
Cantorie  of  Donatello  and  Luca  della  Robbia  in  the  Opera  del 
Duomo,  and  the  sweet  baby  eyes  of  the  little  Child  in  the  "  Ma- 
donna della  Sedia  "  of  the  Pitti  gallery.  Then  the  peaceful  dreams 
would  float  away,  and  there  would  flash  before  me  the  throng  of 
imperial  Ghibellines  shouting  their  defiance  to  the  Guelphs,  while 
frighted  mothers  hurried  their  children  within  doors  and  out  of 
the  battle's  tide.  Now  the  scene  would  suddenly  shift  to  the  brooks 
of  Vallombrosa,  where  the  monastic  hospitality  of  olden  days  was 
suppressed  by  an  unwise  Sardinian  government;  and  onward  to- 
ward the  plain  of  Campaldino,  where  Dante  saw  the  Guelphs  defeat 
their  rivals;  and  to  La  Vernia,  that  still  speaks  to  one  of  the 
"  Fioretti "  of  Saint  Francis,  where  the  spirit  of  II  Poverello 
hovers  everywhere,  where  Franciscan  monks  still  sing  compline 
and  vespers  and  chant  hymns  in  honor  of  the  stigmata  of  their 
founder,  while  as  in  the  seven  centuries  agone  the  violets  and 
daffodils  and  primroses  blossom  forth,  every  one  a  fragrant  symbol 
of  the  Assisian's  simple,  unquestioning  love  of  God. 

When  the  dawn  came  and  the  sun  was  beaming  in  joy,  and  we 
were  ready  to  go,  we  went  forth  to  say  once  more  a  farewell  to 
the  Duomo  waiting  in  the  Piazza.  As  I  turned  away,  I  could 
almost  fancy  Florence  herself  as  an  old  cathedral,  with  its  vast 
interior  glorious  and  wonderful  and  mellow  under  the  subdued 
morning  light  streaming  in  through  the  stained  glass.  Rarest 
tinting  colored  the  sunbeams'  gleaming  on  the  marvelous  rose- 
window  on  the  eastern  face :  the  crimson  of  the  Medici ;  the  deep 
purple  of  Savonarola;  the  dark  green  of  Dante;  the  heaven-blue 
of  Raphael;  the  opalescent  of  Fra  Angelico;  the  glowing  gold  of 
Cellini;  the  rich  violet  of  Michelangelo;  an  old,  old  cathedral, 
with  its  soul's  memory  reaching  back  into  the  long  ago,  and  its 
heart  beating  strong  and  full  for  the  days  that  are,  and  its  loving 
voice  calling  out  to  the  future  ages  as  an  inspiration  and  a  symbol 
and  a  faith. 

From  the  fair  flower  city  of  the  valley  we  went  away,  not 
as  weary  readers  who  would  gladly  close  a  well-studied  book, 
but  as  those  who  would  lingeringly  whisper  an  au  revoir  to  a  dearest 
friend,  and  be  tearful  in  the  parting,  as  those  who  would  remem- 
ber every  loved  smile  and  every  tender  glance  of  a  gentle  sister, 


622  C01MBRA  OF  THE  HILLS  [Aug., 

and  be  knightly  to  her  wishes,  as  those  who  expect  again  to  return 
and  ask  a  welcome  and  a  hand-clasp  and  the  envied  embrace  of 
fond  affection.  As  we  drove  down  the  quaint  old  avenues  of 
Florence,  we  passed  a  little  shrine  of  the  Madonna,  before  which  a 
small  boy  was  arranging  some  pretty  flowers;  we  saw  a  happy- 
faced  old  lady,  telling  her  beads  at  an  open,  vine-shaded  window; 
we  answered  the  kindly  good-bye  of  a  tiny  Bice  who  sat  near  a 
wayside  fountain.  There  was  no  garish  blaze  in  the  streets  of 
Florence,  but  shadow  met  shadow  in  the  peaceful  lanes,  and  a  sub- 
dued, tempered  light  overspread  the  pathway,  like  the  soft,  un- 
hurried, quiet  afterglow  of  remembered  genius  and  fulfillment. 


COXMBRA  OF  THE  HILLS. 

BY   THOMAS   WALSH. 

As  I  came  down  from  the  Hill  of  Longing, 
The  Hill  of  Longing  and  loneliness- 
It  seemed  as  though  some  sharp  caress 

Of  flowers  would  stay  me  with  their  thronging — 
So  late  I  lingered  on  that  hill, 
So  sweet  a  sadness  held  my  will. 

But  the  voice  of  the  river  breeze  would  call  me : 
"  Come  down  where  the  streams  of  singing  are, 
Where  poets'  tears,  and  sighs  of  far 

Old  lovers  as  in  waves  befall  me ! " 
Till  stole  I  down  Co'imbra's  heights 
From  songs  of  youth,  and  casement  lights. 

Then  up  the  Hill  of  Meditation 

I  turned  me,  bathed,  and  cooled,  and  healed — 

Until  the  moon  afar  revealed 
The  peaks  of  my  young  desolation; 

Nor  flower,  nor  thorn  would  stay  me  here — 

Yet  a  star  comes  out  in  every  tear. 


THE  SONG. 


BY  T.  B.  REILLY. 

S  Peter  turned  the  corner  of  the  little  crooked  street 
that  made  a  short  cut  to  the  railway  station,  he  came 
to  a  momentary  halt.  Midway  between  the  houses  a 
man  stood  singing.  The  melody,  sweet  yet  very  sad, 
held  Peter  spellbound.  He  stepped  nearer  and  stood 
listening.  The  singer  suddenly  turned  full  toward  him.  Peter 
drew  back  involuntarily.  The  man,  though  young,  was  cruelly 
maimed.  His  left  arm  was  missing;  he  had  lost  an  eye,  and  his 
face  was  horribly  disfigured  by  scar  tissue.  As  the  song  died  away, 
Peter  stepped  forward  and  offered  the  young  man  a  lira. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  signore,"  said  the  unfortunate. 

"  That  was  a  very  sweet  song,"  remarked  Peter. 

"  It  was  my  first  composition,  signore,  for  the  cello." 

"  Ah,"  murmured  Peter  with  sympathetic  comprehension,  and 
after  a  moment's  pause :  "  A  very  happy  inspiration." 

A  painful  memory  flashed  across  the  young  man's  face,  and 
he  said  slowly :  "  Signore  will  excuse  me.  I  would  rather  not 
remember.  I  dare  not." 

"  Oh !  "  returned  Peter,  and  in  his  voice  sounded  a  note  of 
sincere  apology. 

"  I  had  thought  to  let  it  sleep  here,  signore,"  said  the  man, 

striking  his  breast,  "  but  to-day until  to-day,  none,  except 

the  friend  for  whom  it  was  written  and  myself,  has  ever  heard  it." 

"  Such  songs  are  very  rare,"  said  Peter,  his  interest  aroused, 
"one  should  not  let  them  die." 

The  young  man  shook  his  head,  and  then,  with  a  note  of  poig- 
nant regret,  remarked :  "  Some  things  are  best  forgotten." 

Peter,  at  a  loss,  stood  silent. 

"  Signore  sees  what  I  am,"  said  the  man  softly.  "  It  hap- 
pened over  there — in  America — a  railway  accident." 

"  Ah !  "  murmured  Peter  gently. 

"  For  two  years — just  like  that " — the  man  made  a  balancing 
gesture  with  his  hand. 

Peter  understood  him  to  exemplify  a  wavering  between  life 
and  death. 


624  THE  SONG  [Aug., 

"  It  changed  all — everything — my  whole  life.     I — " 

And,  suddenly  breaking  off,  the  man  inclined  his  head  toward 
Peter  and  with  a  precipitate,  "  A  thousand  thanks,  adieu,"  moved 
quickly  down  the  street. 

Peter,  very  curious,  much  puzzled,  looked  after  the  retreating 
figure  for  a  moment  or  two,  then  went  on  toward  the  station.  Ten 
minutes  later  he  was  seated  in  the  express  that  was  to  take  him 
across  the  blazing  Campagna  to  the  foothills  of  the  distant  moun- 
tains. From  there  an  omnibus  would  bring  him  fifteen  hundred 
feet  up  the  slopes,  and  to  the  ancient  highway  that  wound  along 
the  windy  flanks  of  the  hills  southward  to  the  sea. 

Peter  was  fulfilling  a  promise,  long  since  made  to  himself,  of 
a  fortnight's  excursion  on  that  historic  roadway.  His  first  day 
came  to  a  close  that  evening,  when,  tired,  dusty,  and  very  hungry, 
he  crossed  the  public  square  in  the  little  village  of  Santa  Lucia, 
and  made  for  the  entrance  of  what  he  conjectured  would  be  his 
haven  for  the  night. 

Peter  entered  the  foreyard,  and  passed  along  the  vine-covered 
pathway  that  was  sweet  with  the  smell  of  ripening  grapes.  In  the 
garden  proper,  under  the  olive  trees,  were  several  tables  and  benches. 
Peter  seated  himself  at  one  of  the  tables,  and  a  moment  later 
found  himself  looking  up  into  the  sharp  eyes  of  an  extremely 
business-like  old  woman.  There  was  authority  in  her  glance.  Her 
attitude  was  a  demand — a  peremptory  challenge.  This,  to  Peter, 
suggested  several  things;  chiefly  the  suitability  of  mentioning  his 
needs.  He  declared  his  wants.  The  woman  stated  her  terms. 

A  few  minutes  later,  Peter,  duly  inducted  into  his  room,  laid 
hold  of  the  accommodations  to  hand,  refreshed  himself,  and  then 
repaired  to  the  garden.  There,  at  a  table  under  an  old  olive,  he 
seated  himself  to  await  his  much-desired  dinner.  He  rolled  a 
cigarette,  leaned  back,  and,  looking  up  through  the  sunlit  leaves 
overhead,  suddenly  fell  to  thinking  of  the  singer  and  his  song. 

"  Two  years  like  that,"  mused  Peter,  making  a  balancing 
motion  with  his  hand.  "  Imagine !  " 

"  Suppose,"  said  Peter  to  himself,  "  suppose  such  an  accident 
had  befallen  me.  I  wonder  if  I'd  have  had  the  courage  to  sing. 
Poor  chap !  No  doubt  he  had  his  dreams  of  a  career,  fame,  hap- 
piness. And  now  everything  is  changed — labors,  hopes,  his  whole 
life."  The  notes  of  the  song  came  back  to  him.  "  A  sweet  song 
that,"  said  Peter.  He  was  just  on  the  point  of  humming  the 
remembered  strains  when  something  happened. 


1913-]  THE  SONG  625 

She  was  coming  down  the  pathway  toward  him.  Peter,  in- 
credulous, took  her  in  with  steady  and  admiring  glance.  And  as 
she  drew  near  he  said  softly :  "  Oh !  " 

"  The  wine,  signore,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  returned  Peter,  smiling  up  at  her. 

"  Signore  would  be  English,"  remarked  the  girl. 

"  American,"  said  Peter  in  a  note  of  polite  correction. 

"  It's  the  same,"  she  declared  with  an  expressive  shrug  of  her 
shoulders. 

"  Not  quite,"  dissented  Peter  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  and 
added :  "  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Vincenzo  once  told  me  they  were  all  the  same,"  she  replied. 

Peter  regarded  her  more  critically.  She  was  really  handsome. 
Her  dark  beauty  was  striking.  Her  blue-black  hair,  wonderfully 
abundant,  shimmered  in  the  late  afternoon  sunlight.  In  her  ears 
were  fastened  rings  of  old  gold.  Her  cheeks  were  oval,  olive, 
dusky,  warm  with  the  covert  red  of  her  race.  Her  lips  were  clean- 
cut  and  scarlet.  But  it  was  on  her  eyes  that  Peter  dwelt  longest. 
They  were  large  and  brown  and  very  luminous.  They  were 
beautiful  eyes.  And  just  at  present  they  were  smiling  down  at 
him. 

"  Your  friend  Vincenzo  has  seen  a  bit  of  the  world,  perhaps  ?  " 
conjectured  Peter. 

"  He  has  been  to  England,  signore ;  he  is  in  America  now, 
but—" 

She  broke  off  suddenly  and  stood  looking  across  the  garden. 

Peter,  in  spite  of  his  emotions,  managed  to  get  two  and  two 
together.  "  Oh— o !  "  he  returned. 

"  Eh !  "  said  the  girl  with  another  expressive  shrug.  "  What 
is  there  in  this  land  for  one  that  has  talent  and  wishes  to  get  on  in 
the  world  ?  Nothing !  " 

"  I  dare  say  there  aren't  many  opportunities  for  a  man  of 
spirit,"  agreed  Peter.  Then  with  a  smile  up  at  her  pensive  face: 
"Still,  if  I  were  Vincenzo—" 

:t  Yes  ?  "  she  picked  him  up  quickly,  somewhat  eagerly. 

"  Well,"  concluded  Peter  with  a  polite  inclination  of  the  head, 
"  I  should  find  the  world  a  dull  place,  and  hurry  home." 

"  Eh !  "  she  threw  out  suddenly  with  an  inimitable  gesture. 
"  When  they  are  away,  they  quickly  forget." 

"  It  may  occasionally  fall  out  that  way,"  admitted  Peter,  "  but 
not  where  one's  friends  are  like  Vincenzo's." 

VOL.  xcvii.— 40 


626  THE  SONG  [Aug., 

She  regarded  him  solemnly  for  a  moment  or  two,  then,  with  a 
smiling  uplift  of  her  eyebrows:  "You — like — me?" 

Peter,  honestly  confused,  hesitated;  then  returned  gallantly: 
"  But — of  course." 

She  considered  that  confession  a  second,  gazed  steadily  down 
at  him,  the  red  in  her  cheeks  stirring,  then  slowly  half -asserted,  half- 
sought :  "  You — think — I — am — very — pretty  ?  " 

Peter  may  have  been  impressionable.  But  Peter  was  truthful. 
He  turned,  looked  up  into  her  disconcerting  eyes  and  acknowledged : 
"  I — think — you — are — charming." 

Again  for  a  moment  or  two  she  gazed  solemnly  down  at  him. 

"  What  perfectly  beautiful  eyes,"  thought  Peter. 

But  she,  with  hands  on  hips,  suddenly  threw  back  her  head  and 
laughed  mockingly  at  him.  The  laughter  bubbled  from  her  lips 
as  notes  tumbling  from  a  mellow  flute.  The  music  took  Peter's 
inconsequence  by  storm.  But  the  girl,  with  another  change  of 
mood,  and  with  a  note  of  reminiscence,  naively  informed  him: 
"  Vincenzo  said  I  should  some  day  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
the  world." 

"  A  truthful  prophet,"  said  Peter,  "  and  when  he  comes  this 
way  again — " 

"  No !  "  she  broke  in  quickly,  shaking  her  head,  as  one  facing 
the  inevitable. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  declared  Peter  encouragingly.  "  These 
little  misunderstandings — " 

"  There  was  no  misunderstanding,"  she  interrupted. 

Peter  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  We — we  were  friends,  nothing  more,"  she  advised  him  with 
a  shrug.  And  the  next  moment,  "  Signore  will  excuse  me."  And 
with  a  little  bow  toward  Peter,  she  went  up  the  garden  path. 

Peter,  turning  in  his  seat,  followed  her  retreating  figure  with  a 
glance  of  curiosity,  interest,  wonder. 

Five  minutes  later  she  brought  Peter  his  dinner,  and,  seating 
herself  opposite,  became  the  pleasing,  if  unconventional,  observer 
of  a  young  man  making  the  most  of  a  prodigious  appetite. 

Peter,  the  first  pangs  of  hunger  appeased,  looked  up 
smiling.  "  Signore  has  travelled  much  ?  "  asked  the  girl  medi- 
tatively. 

"  No,"  replied  Peter,  setting  to  work  on  a  dish  of  salad,  "  in 
fact,  I'm  a  bit  disappointed.  I  made  less  than  twenty:  but  to- 


1913.]  THE  SONG  627 

"  Signore  does  not  understand,"  interrupted  the  girl.  "  Sig- 
nore  has  seen  many  countries,  many  people,  many  cities  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  Peter,  carefully  dropping  some  oil  upon  the  crisp 
leaves  before  him,  "  that's  what  you  mean.  Well,  I  think  I've 
seen  my  share.  But,  it  isn't  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be,  you  know." 

"  Ah !  "  she  returned  musingly.  "  I  should  like  to  see  all  the 
countries  of  the  world,  all,  all !  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  Peter  between  bites,  for  a  salad  neglected  is 
a  salad  lost,  "  and  suppose  you  did  ?  " 

"  Eh !  "  she  threw  out  with  a  gesture,  "  I  should  then  be  happy. 
Poverty  is  a  great  burden." 

"  Money  is  a  greater,"  advanced  Peter. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  dissented,  shaking  her  head  from 
side  to  side. 

"  You  may  take  my  word  for  it,"  said  Peter. 

"  Mache!"  she  exclaimed  sharply — with  an  emphasis,  an  ac- 
cent, a  vigor. 

It  was  like  a  cuff  on  the  cheek;  an  unexpected  box  across  the 
ears.  Peter's  complacency  suffered  a  shock.  For  the  moment,  he 
sat  silent,  fascinated  by  her  flashing  eyes. 

"  Without  money,"  she  announced  feelingly,  "  there  is  nothing, 
nothing." 

"  Don't  you  believe  any  such  thing,"  Peter  warned  her,  rolling 
a  cigarette,  "  the  best  things  in  life  have  nothing  at  all  to  do 
with  money." 

"  Signore  is  rich  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That's  no  argument,"  countered  Peter. 

"  Would  he  be  willing  to  give  up  his  wealth  for  existence 
in  such  a  place  as  this  ?  " 

She  glanced  about  her  swiftly,  scornfully. 

"  Well,"  replied  Peter  amused,  interested,  "  I  don't  know — 
why  not?  " 

He  glanced  about  him  slowly,  appreciatively. 

"  No !  "  she  cried  with  a  disdainful  toss  of  her  head,  "  signore 
would  quickly  regret  the  loss  of  his  money." 

"  That's  merely  an  assumption,"  returned  Peter. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  that  is  the  truth — the  real  truth." 

And  suddenly  turning  toward  Peter  she  asked :  "  Signore  has 
seen  many  beautiful  women?" 

Peter  frowned,  readjusted  his  thoughts,  and  then  smilingly 
advised  her :  "  Not  so  many." 


628  THE  SONG  [Aug., 

She  regarded  him  through  half-closed  eyes.  And  again  Peter 
took  in  the  attractive  face,  the  beautiful  eyes,  the  lips — 

severed  lips, 

Parted  with  sugared  breath, 

thought  Peter,  and  he  remarked:  "They  were  what  you  might 
call  beautiful  by  persuasion.  The  rose  was  a  rose  grown  gray — 
and  re-colored.  They  were  beautiful  with  a  difference." 

"  There  must  be  many  beautiful  women  in  the  world,"  she 
mused  reflectively.  And  after  a  moment's  pause :  "  There  must  be 
many  beautiful  women  in  the  signore's  country." 

"  Oh,"  said  Peter,  a  light  dawning,  "  well,  I  believe  we've 
something  of  a  reputation  in  that  regard,  but — " 

He  paused  a  second  and  then,  smilingly :  "  Your  friend,  Vin- 
cenzo,  is  tolerably  safe." 

"  He  must  be  very  rich  by  this  time,"  she  advanced  anxiously, 
and  with  a  look  at  Peter  as  if  for  sympathetic  comprehension. 

"  Your  fear  is  groundless,"  said  Peter  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

She  stood  frowning  down  at  him. 

"  Riches  aren't  such  a  high  card  in  the  game  over  there," 
went  on  Peter. 

"  Signore  says  things  I  do  not  understand,"  she  complained 
with  reproachful  patience. 

"  Let  us  put  it  another  way,"  returned  Peter,  "  this  friend  of 
yours,  this  Vincenzo,  does  he  possess  so  magical  a  thing  as  a  title? 
Is  he,  for  instance,  prince,  duke,  count  or  even  plain  commen- 
datore?" 

"  M ache  I "  she  threw  out  with  a  gesture,"  he  is  none  of  those 
things;  but — " 

She  looked  up  through  the  vines  a  second. 

"  He  is  very  handsome,"  she  answered ;  then  sighed  and 
softly  concluded :  "He  was  the  most  beautiful  man  in  all  the 
province." 

"  That's  nothing,"  said  Peter,  "  good  looks  won't  carry  him 
far  in  the  present  state  of  the  market.  He'll  return,  never  fear." 

She  stood  shaking  her  head. 

"  Men,"  Peter  informed  her,  "  are  hard  to  get  started.  Be- 
sides you  must  make  allowances.  Don't  let  a  few  months  absence 
worry  you." 

"  Months !  "  she  exclaimed.  But  from  the  note  in  her  voice, 
the  light  in  her  eyes,  her  meaning  was  unmistakable. 


1913-]  THE  SONG  629 

"  But/'  said  Peter,  "  you  wouldn't  marry  a  man  solely  because 
he  was  handsome  ?  " 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment.  Her  dark  eyes  searched  him 
through  and  through. 

"  Would  the  signore  marry  an  ugly  woman  ?  " 

"  That's  not  a  fair  question,"  objected  Peter.  "  The  point  in 
discussion  is  not  one  of  masculine  folly,  but  one  of  womanly 
wisdom." 

She  looked  at  him,   frowning,  uncertain. 

"  Nevertheless,"  went  on  Peter,  "  I  dare  say  that  given  an 
ugly  woman  with  wit  and  wealth  and  a  lovely  creature  with 
neither — "  He  paused  a  second,  then  smiling  up  at  her :  "  Well, 
what  do  you  think?" 

,  "  I  don't  know  what  the  signore  is  talking  about,"  she  replied 
with  a  shrug.  Then  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  her  eyes  flashing: 
"  The  man  that  marries  me  must  be  handsome.  He  must  be  rich. 
He  must  be  able  and  willing  to  take  me  everywhere;  show  me  all 
the  wonderful  places  and  beautiful  cities  of  the  world. 

She  made  a  gesture  toward  the  regions  beyond  the  gar- 
den. "  He  must  show  me  what  it  is  to  live ;  to  go  where  I  wish ; 
to  have  what  I  will ;  do  what  I  please !  " 

"  But,"  argued  Peter,  marvelling  at  the  outburst,  "  what  good 
would  all  that  do  you?  You'd  find  it  the  dullest  sort  of  work. 
You'd  tire  of  it  in  less  than  no  time.  Why — why  you'd  give  any- 
thing to  get  back  again  to  this  little  sheltered  paradise." 

"  Never !  "  she  exclaimed  passionately,  getting  to  her  feet. 

Peter  looked  up  at  her.  "  What  a  little  dramatic  beauty  she 
is;"  he  said  to  himself,  "all  fire  and  ice;  aloes  and  honey."  But 
aloud :  "  Do  you  know  what  I  think  ?  " 

"  Tell  me,"  she  demanded,  gazing  down  at  him  with  something 
of  a  challenge  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  really  care  two  cents  about  riches." 

She  drew  back  in  an  attitude  of  derision.  Her  eyes  flashed. 
And,  with  a  sudden  toss  of  her  head,  she  laughed  scornfully  at  him. 
And  before  Peter  could  make  reply,  she  had  called  out: 
"  Good-evening,  signorino,"  and  was  on  her  way  up  the  gar- 
den walk. 

"  Huh!  "  said  Peter  to  himself. 

That  "  signorino "  had  shocked  his  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things.  For  Peter  was  two  and  thirty — a  very  seasonable  age. 

Ten  minutes  later,  he  sighed  and  got  to  his  feet.     The  day  had 


630  THE  SONG  [Aug., 

come  to  a  close.  The  sun  was  behind  the  mountains.  There  was  a 
chill  in  the  air.  The  garden  was  gray  and  very  quiet. 

"  It's  positively  lonesome,"  mused  Peter,  looking  up  the  garden 
path. 

He  went  slowly  up  to  his  room,  drew  a  chair  to  the  window, 
and  sat  looking  out  across  the  valley.  On  the  dark  flank  of  the 
distant  mountains,  he  could  make  out  the  village  of  San  Marco — 
a  patchwork  of  wonderful  silver  grays.  Suddenly  he  gave  a  start. 
Someone  was  singing.  He  leaned  forward  and  looked  down  into 
the  garden.  It  was  the  girl. 

The  melody,  sweet  yet  very  sad,  drifted  up  through  the  vines. 
Peter  found  himself  humming  the  music  softly  to  himself.  It  was 
a  sweet  song.  He  had  heard  it  once  before — in  the  hot  city,  miles 
away  to  the  west. 

As  the  song  died  away  in  plaintive  minors,  Peter  sat  thinking. 
A  few  moments  later  he  gave  another  start,  and  again  looked  down 
into  the  garden.  He  could  just  make  out  the  form  of  the  girl  sitting 
on  a  bench  under  the  grape  arbor.  She  was  sobbing.  For  the 
briefest  of  moments  Peter  had  a  startlingly  vivid  glimpse  of  a  little 
crooked  street,  and  of  a  young  man  who  was  saying  with  a  note 
of  poignant  regret :  "  Some  things  are  best  forgotten." 

"  Nonsense,"  murmured  Peter. 

He  stared  frowningly  out  into  the  deepening  dusk,  thinking, 
wondering.  And  then  he  remembered. 

"  Until  to-day,  none,  except  the  friend  for  whom  it  was  written 
and  myself,  has  ever  heard  it." 


BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY. 

BY    THOMAS    J.    GERRARD. 

INCE  everything  in  the  philosophy  of  change  is,  up- 
side down,  so  we  must  examine  the  first  cause  last. 
We  have  seen  the  creative  evolution  in  its  flux, 
we  have  gathered  that  it  can  only  be  caught  during 
flashes  of  intuition,  we  have  understood  that  its 
direction  is  determined  neither  by  mechanical  forces  nor  intellectual 
motives,  and  we  have  tried  to  apprehend  how  the  whole  process 
could  happen  without  any  preconceived  plan.  We  come  now  to 
examine  the  actual  principle  itself  which  is  supposed  to  do  all 
these  things. 

Of  course  we  intend  to  use  our  intelligence  in  our  inquiry.  It 
is  needful  to  make  this  remark,  because  M.  Befgson  rather  postu- 
lates that  we  shall  not  do  so.  "  Everything,"  he  says,  "  is  obscure 
in  the  idea  of  creation  if  we  think  of  things  which  are  created, 
and  a  thing  which  creates,  as  we  habitually  do,  as  the  understanding 
cannot  help  doing."* 

That  is  just  what  the  hatter  said. 

"  If  you  knew  Time  as  well  as  I  do,"  said  the  hatter,  "  you 
wouldn't  talk  about  wasting  it.  It's  him/' 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Alice. 

"Of  course  you  don't,"  the  hatter  said,  tossing  his  head  con- 
temp  tuously.f 

If  the  new  god  Chronos  is  not  intelligible,  then  it  was  silly 
to  write  a  book  describing  him.  If  we  cannot  make  him  intelligible, 
we  can  at  least  show  where  he  is  unintelligible. 

Our  first  point  of  inquiry  will  be  to  see  how  far  the  god 
Time  involves  a  dualist  or  a  monist  universe.  In  our  first  articlej 
we  said  that  M.  Bergson  professed  to  be  a  dualist.  We  now 
venture  to  declare  that,  in  spite  of  what  he  says,  and  in  spite 
of  what  his  disciples  may  say,  he  is  a  radical  monist. 

Monism§  is  a  term  invented  by  Wolff  to  designate  any  philos- 
ophy which  recognizes  in  the  whole  sphere  of  existence  only  one 

^Creative  Evolution,  p.  261.  ^Alice  in  Wonderland,  p.  84. 

$THE    CATHOLIC   WORLD,   January,    1913,    p.   435. 

§For  a  full  treatment   of  this   subject   see:    Der  Monismus  und  Seine  Philo- 
sophische  Grundlagen,  von  Friedrich  Klimke,   S J.,   Freiburg :    Herder. 


632        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

((x6vos)  kind  of  being.  This  kind  of  being  may  be  either  matter 
or  spirit.  If  the  one  substance  be  regarded  as  matter,  then 
the  monism  is  called  materialist;  if  spirit,  then  it  is  called 
spiritualist.  Spiritualist  monism  may  be  either  intellectualist,  vol- 
untarist  or  transcendental.  A  philosophy  which  teaches  that  there 
are  two  distinct  kinds  of  being  is  known  as  dualist  (  &Jo»  two). 
If  the  monism  is  spiritualist,  it  will  include  God,  and  thus  will  be 
pantheistic.  If  it  is  materialist,  it  will  exclude  God,  and  thus  will 
be  atheistic. 

At  first  sight  there  would  seem  to  be  in  the  system  of  M.  Berg- 
son  two  kinds  of  being,  ascending  life  and  descending  matter. 
The  ascending  life  is  variously  spoken  of  as  "  consciousness," 
"  super-consciousness,"  "  duration,"  "  vital  push,"  "  choice,"  "  free- 
dom," "  intuition,"  "  will."  It  is  never  defined  because  it  is  seen 
only  by  intuition,  and  so  cannot  be  defined.  From  what  we  have 
observed,  however,  of  its  action  and  functions,  we  may  describe 
it  as  a  conscious  vital  push  which  sees  intuitively,  and  which  wills 
according  to  the  exigencies  of  creation. 

Whatever  else  this  force  is  or  is  not,  it  is  original  in  the  strict- 
est sense  of  the  word.  However  incoherent  the  statement  may 
seem,  we  are  bound  to  say  that  in  the  system  of  M.  Bergson 
this  force  creates  itself.  All  at  once,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
with  no  sound  of  trumpet  to  herald  its  coming,  nay,  with  no  eye 
to  twinkle  upon  it,  it  begins.* 

Again,  this  life  which  starts  itself  and  intensifies  itself  also 
bifurcates  itself.  The  division  into  animal  and  vegetable  lines,  into 
the  lines  of  instinct  and  reason,  are  due  to  two  causes  which  life 
bears  within  itself.  As  to  the  cause  of  these  causes,  well  it 
simply  began  at  the  given  centre  at  which  life  began. f 

Here,  be  it  noticed,  we  find  matter  already  in  existence,  and 
exercising  its  function  of  modifying  life.  But  whence  did  the 
matter  come?  Did  it  start  of  itself  from  some  given  centre? 
In  order  to  find  out  the  genesis  of  matter,  we  must  recall  the  whole 
of  the  Bergsonian  doctrine  of  time,  space,  intuition,  and  intellect. 
Then  we  shall  see  that  this  descending  matter  is  but  the  inversion 
of  ascending  force. 

First  let  us  make  a  number  of  efforts  at  intuition.  Each 
glimpse  will  give  us  a  sight  of  the  extra-spatial.  Then  as  each 
glimpse  fades  away,  the  extra-spatial  will  be  observed  to  degrade 
itself  into  spatiality.  This  will  be  all  the  more  evident  to  us  in 

fc   ^Creative  Evolution,  p.  27.  Wbid.,  pp.   103,   104. 


1913.]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  633 

proportion  to  the  strain  we  put  upon  ourselves.  Let  us  make  our- 
selves self-conscious  in  the  highest  possible  degree.  Then  we  shall 
feel  ourselves,  as  it  were,  outside  space,  and  right  in  the  midst  of 
the  fluid  "  now." 

But  then  let  us  relax  ourselves  and  fall  back  little  by  little. 
Then  we  shall  feel  that  we  are  in  the  solid  flesh  after  all,  and 
that  what  was  an  indivisible  flux  has  become  a  divisible  extension. 
"  We  have  an  extension  of  the  self  into  recollections  that  are 
fixed  and  external  to  one  another,  in  place  of  the  tension  it  pos- 
sessed as  an  indivisible  active  will."* 

Our  consciousness  in  this  way  shows  us  the  direction  of  the 
movement.  But  it  is  not  able  to  follow  the  whole  course  of  the 
movement.  Our  intellect  sees  matter  whilst  our  intuition  sees  life. 
And  as  our  consciousness  assumes  now  the  form  of  intuition,  and 
now  the  form  of  intellect,  we  recognize  that  we  hold  two  ends 
of  a  chain,  though  we  do  not  succeed  in  seizing  the  intervening 
links. 

Philosophy,  that  is,  intuition,  has  not  yet  become  completely 
conscious  of  itself.  But,  since  it  is  in  a  process  of  evolution, 
it  may  eventually  come  to  see  matter  in  its  actual  genesis.  For 
the  present,  however,  we  may  infer,  by  comparing  our  intuitional 
views  with  our  intellectual  views,  that  matter  is  but  the  inversion 
of  life. 

Physics  has  hitherto  done  its  duty  in  pushing  matter  in  the 
direction  of  spatiality.  But  metaphysics  has  been  on  the  wrong 
track  in  simply  treading  in  the  footsteps  of  physics.  It  was  a 
chimerical  hope  to  expect  to  be  able  to  go  further  in  the  same 
direction.  It  should  have  recognized  that  the  direction  of  intuition 
is  the  very  opposite  to  that  of  intellect.  The  task  of  metaphysics 
should  be 

to  remount  the  incline  which  physics  descends,  to  bring  back 
matter  to  its  origins,  and  to  build  up  progressively  a  cos- 
mology which  would  be,  so  to  speak,  a  reversed  psychology. 
All  that  which  seems  positive  to  the  physicist  and  to  the  geo- 
metrician would  become,  from  this  new  point  of  view,  an  inter- 
ruption or  inversion  of  the  true  positivity,  which  would  have 
to  be  denned  in  psychological  terms.f 

Now  if  matter  is  but  the  inversion  of  spirit,  if  metaphysics 
is  but  the  inversion  of  physics,  and  cosmology  of  psychology, 

^Creative  Evolution,  p.  219.  ^Ibid. 


634        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

then  obviously  there  is  but  one  radical  kind  of  being.  M.  Berg- 
son's  observations  are  shrewd  enough  to  show  him  the  great  differ- 
ence between  body  and  spirit.  On  the  surface  then  he  is  a  dualist. 
But  he  has  to  make  this  doctrine  square  with  the  doctrine  of 
change.  He  has  to  account  for  the  origin  of  that  which  is  inert. 
So  he  makes  matter  the  inversion  of  life.  He  begins  as  a  dualist, 
but  ends  as  a  monist. 

Doubtless  this  idea  of  matter  being  but  the  inversion  of  life, 
will  not  commend  itself  as  being  clear  and  coherent  in  itself.  In- 
deed, M.  Bergson  warns  us  that  here  we  are  entering  the  most 
obscure  regions  of  metaphysics.  Let  us  decline,  however,  to  be 
hoodwinked.  If  M.  Bergson  is  going  to  take  us  from  the  known  to 
the  unknown,  he  must  satisfy  us  as  to  the  stepping-stones.  He 
must  not  ask  us  to  step  out  on  to  soft  ooze,  or  into  the  dark,  pre- 
suming that  it  will  be  all  right.  Observe  then  a  few  of  his  nebu- 
losities. 

This  long  analysis  (i.  e.,  of  the  ideas  of  order  and  disorder) 
was  necessary  to  show  how  the  real  can  pass  from  tension  to 
extension,  and  from  freedom  to  mechanical  necessity  by  way  of 
inversion We  must  now  examine  more  closely  the  inver- 
sion whose  consequences  we  have  just  described.  What  then 
is  the  principle  that  has  only  to  let  go  its  tension — we  may  say 
to  detend — in  order  to  extend,  the  interruption  of  the  cause  here 
being  equivalent  to  a  reversal  of  the  effect  ?  For  the  want  of  a 
better  word  we  have  to  call  it  consciousness.  But  we  do  not 
mean  the  narrowed  consciousness  that  functions  in  each  of  us. 
Our  own  consciousness  is  the  consciousness  of  a  certain  living 
being,  placed  in  a  certain  point  of  space;  and  though  it  does 
indeed  move  in  the  same  direction  as  its  principle,  it  is  con- 
tinually drawn  the  opposite  way,  obliged,  though  it  goes  for- 
ward, to  look  behind.  This  retrospective  vision  is,  as  we  have 
shown,  the  natural  function  of  the  intellect,  and  consequently 
of  distinct  consciousness.* 

This  is  one  of  the  most  luminous  passages  we  can  find.  We 
venture  to  interpret  it  as  follows:  Consciousness  stretches  itself 
as  far  as  possible.  Then  it  lets  go.  Or  again,  first  it  concen- 
trates itself  on  itself  for  a  living  active  moment.  Then  it  allows 
itself  to  be  distracted.  Thus  the  stretching  or  concentrating  makes 
tension.  The  letting  go  or  dissipation  makes  detension.  When 
the  detending  has  finished  extension  is  the  result.  Consciousness 

^Creative  Evolution,  p.    250. 


1913.]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  635 

detends  in  order  to  extend.  But  only  life  can  stretch  itself  or 
concentrate  itself.  And  since  matter  is  found  already  extended, 
we  presume  that  it  has  arrived  through  the  detension  of  life. 
Hence  we  see  that  matter  has  its  origin  in  life.  If  that  is  not 
clear,  pray  listen  again: 

Is  it  extension  in  general  that  we  are  considering  in  abstracto? 
Extension,  we  said,  appears  only  as  a  tension  which  is  inter- 
rupted. Or,  are  we  considering  the  concrete  reality  that  fills 
this  extension?  The  order  which  reigns  there,  and  which  is 
manifested  by  the  laws  of  nature,  is  an  order  which  must 
be  born  of  itself  when  the  inverse  order  is  suppressed;  a  de- 
tension  of  the  will  would  produce  precisely  this  suppression. 

Lastly,  we  find  that  the  direction  which  this  reality  takes, 
suggests  to  us  the  idea  of  a  thing  unmaking  itself;  such,  no 
doubt,  is  one  of  the  essential  characters  of  materiality.  What 
conclusion  are  we  to  draw  from  all  this,  if  not  that  the  process 
by  which  this  thing  makes  itself  is  directed  in  a  contrary  way 
to  that  of  physical  processes,  and  that  it  is,  therefore,  by  its 
very  definition,  immaterial? 

The  vision  we  have  of  the  material  world  is  that  of  a  weight 
which  falls:    no  image  drawn  from  matter,  properly  so-called, 
will  ever  give  us  the  idea  of  weight  rising  ......  All  our  analyses 

show  us,  in  life,  an  effort  to  remount  the  incline  that  matter 
descends.  In  that  they  reveal  to  us  the  possibility,  the  necessity 
even  of  a  process  the  inverse  of  materiality,  creative  of  matter 
by  its  interruption  alone.* 

For  the  present  let  us  suspend  our  judgment  as  to  the  co- 
herence of  this  idea  of  inversion.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  inter- 
ruption of  the  stream  of  life  creates  matter.  Let  us  grant  that 
the  words  represent  a  validly  logical  process,  and  not  a  mere  jumble 
of  ideas.  Then  the  point  we  have  undertaken  to  make  is  estab- 
lished. If  matter  is  but  the  inversion  of  spirit,  then  both  are 
ultimately  one  and  the  same  thing,  and  M.  Bergson,  whilst  nomin- 
ally a  dualist,  is  radically  a  monist.  "  Intellect  and  matter,"  he  says, 
"  have  progressively  adapted  themselves  one  to  the  other  in  order  to 
attain  at  last  a  common  form.  This  adaptation  has,  moreover, 
been  brought  about  quite  naturally,  because  it  is  the  same  inversion 
of  the  same  movement  which  creates  at  once  the  intellectuality 
of  mind  and  the  materiality  of  things"^ 


^Creative  Evolution,  pp.  258,  259.  ^Ibid.,  p.  217 


636        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

This  unification  of  the  universe  turns  M.  Bergson  into  a  poet. 
Listen  to  his  dithyramb: 

Thus  to  the  eyes  of  a  philosophy  that  attempts  to  re-absorb 
intellect  in  intuition,  many  difficulties  vanish  or  become  light. 
But  such  a  doctrine  does  not  only  facilitate  speculation;  it 
gives  us  also  more  power  to  act  and  to  live.  For,  with  it, 
we  feel  ourselves  no  longer  isolated  in  humanity,  humanity 
no  longer  seems  isolated  in  the  nature  that  it  dominates.  As 
the  smallest  grain  of  dust  is  bound  up  with  our  entire  solar 
system,  drawn  along  with  it  in  that  undivided  movement  of 
descent  which  is  materiality  itself,  so  all  organized  beings,  from 
the  humblest  to  the  highest,  from  the  first  origins  of  life  to  the 
time  in  which  we  are,  and  in  all  places  as  in  all  times,  do  but 
evidence  a  single  impulsion,  the  inverse  of  the  movement  of 
matter,  and  in  itself  indivisible.  All  the  living  hold  together, 
and  all  yield  to  the  same  tremendous  push.* 

Next  we  may  note  the  incoherence  of  this  new  notion  of 
inversion.  An  original  impulse  first  starts  off.  But  how  does  it 
turn  back  upon  itself  ?  Whence  does  it  derive  a  direction  antagonis- 
tic to  itself  ?  How  can  the  very  contradiction  of  a  force  spring  from 
that  force?  How  can  descent  be  produced  by  ascent?  Granting, 
in  a  word,  that  the  vital  push  has  certain  potentialities,  whence 
does  it  derive  the  principle  by  which  these  potentialities  are  act- 
uated? Until  these  questions  are  answered,  the  whole  concept 
must  be  written  off  as  fraught  with  inconsistency  and  self-con- 
tradiction. 

Or  again,  we  may  note  a  vicious  circle  in  the  process.  In 
order  that  life  may  ascend,  it  is  supposed  to  require  matter  to 
enable  it  to  do  so.  Its  ascent  is  a  march  of  conquest.  Matter 
is  wanted  to  provide  life  with  problems,  the  solution  of  which 
constitutes  creative  evolution.  But  in  order  that  matter  may 
be  thus  placed  at  the  service  of  life,  life  must  first  ascend  and 
become  inverted.  The  ladder  is  upstairs.  How  shall  we  get  it 
down  ?  Here  is  a  lacuna  in  the  philosophy  of  change.  The  polite 
thing  is  just  to  peep  at  it,  and  then  cover  it  over  again  with  abund- 
ance of  flowers  which  M.  Bergson  provides  for  us. 

We  have  already  seen,  in  our  study  of  finalism,  that  no  evo- 
lution could  possibly  have  been  set  in  motion  without  some  in- 
telligent direction.  But  something  more  is  required  than  mere 
aim.  The  arrow  does  not  fly  off  to  the  target  by  reason  of  its  own 

%  ^Creative  Evolution,   p.    285. 


1913-]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  637 

self -propulsion.  Motion  presupposes  a  motor.  So  also  is  it  with 
this  vital  push.  Who  started  it  pushing  ?  Who  pressed  the  button 
for  such  a  wonderful  system  of  change-ringing? 

Both  the  principle  of  identity  and  the  principle  of  causality 
are  here  skipped  over  as  if  they  did  not  matter.  But  they  do 
matter.  We  must  write  them  down  again,  else  we  may  be  beguiled 
from  the  path  of  common  sense.  A  thing  is  what  it  is  as  long  as 
it  is  what  it  is,  and  so  long  as  it  is  what  it  is,  it  is  not  something 
else.  That  means  that  amoebas  do  not  of  themselves  change  their 
essence  and  merge  into  monkeys.  An  amceba  is  always  an  amceba, 
and  a  monkey  is  always  a  monkey.  Further,  every  effect  must 
have  a  cause.  But  every  change  is  an  effect.  Therefore,  every 
change  must  have  a  cause. 

Most  especially  are  these  principles  applicable  to  the  changes 
in  creative  evolution.  Here  invariably  the  changes  are  from  some- 
thing less  to  something  greater.  They  involve  the  extremely  active 
conditions  of  intuition  and  freedom.  Their  glory  is  that  by  them 
are  created  absolutely  new  forms,  unforeseen  and  unforeseeable. 
Whence  come  all  these  potentialities  and  activities?  What  makes 
instinct  develop  so  astonishingly  in  the  line  of  bees  ?  What  makes 
intelligence  appear  rather  in  the  line  of  man?  What  holds  back 
the  mollusc  with  its  splendid  eyesight  from  entering  into  com- 
petition with  man? 

Evidently  these  questions  have  troubled  M.  Bergson.  He 
speaks  of  the  "  torturing  problems  "  to  which  the  idea  of  "  nothing  " 
gives  rise.  Eventually  he  dares  to  admit  that  there  is  some  great 
Principle  at  the  bottom  of  the  universe. 

Whence  comes  it  [he  asks],  and  how  can  it  be  understood 
that  anything  exists?  Even  here  in  the  present  work,  when 
matter  has  been  defined  as  a  kind  of  descent,  this  descent  as 
the  interruption  of  a  rise,  this  rise  itself  as  a  growth,  when 
finally  a  Principle  of  creation  has  been  put  at  the  base  of 
things,  the  same  question  springs  up:  How — why  does  this 
principle  exist  rather  than  nothing? 

The  answer  to  this  question  would  be  simple  enough  if  M. 
Bergson  had  not  poisoned  the  wells  of  knowledge.  By  willfully 
suppressing  the  concept  of  "  being  "  and  substituting  the  concept  of 
"  becoming,"  he  has  blinded  himself  to  that  most  obvious  and 
primary  truth,  that  a  thing  is  what  it  is  as  long  as  it  is  what  it  is, 


638        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

the  truth  known  as  the  principle  of  identity.  Consequently  he  has 
cut  himself  off  from  that  Being  Who  is  essentially  being.  He 
has  no  place  for  being  which  exists  of  itself  in  one  eternal  and 
unchanging  present.  Having  burnt  his  boats,  he  has  destroyed  his 
only  chance  of  escape.  Hence  he  is  in  this  predicament :  he  must 
create  a  God  according  to  his  own  image  and  likeness. 

On  the  one  hand  he  allows  himself  to  speak  of  his  God  as 
"a  centre  from  which  worlds  shoot  out  like  rockets  in  a  fire- 
works display."*  But  on  the  other  hand,  he  says  that  he  "  does 
not  present  this  centre  as  a  thing,  but  as  a  continuity  of  shooting 
out.  God,  thus  defined,  has  nothing  of  the  already  made;  He  is 
unceasing  life,  action,  freedom. "f  In  other  words  his  God  is 
the  God  of  Change,  not  the  unchangeable  God;  the  God  of  Time, 
not  the  God  of  Eternity. 

M.  Bergson  has  a  number  of  names  for  this  God,  each  more 
or  less  descriptive.  First  we  may  consider  the  great  Principle 
as  Time.  That  would  be  all  very  well  if  we  used  the  word  as  a 
metaphor.  Time,  for  instance,  can  heal  a  broken  heart.  But  putting 
metaphor  aside,  we  cannot  think  of  Time  as  creating  anything  at 
all.  It  is  not  even  an  active  principle.  It  is  merely  an  effect, 
the  measurement  of  motion. 

Or  again,  we  may  consider  the  Principle  as  Duration  (la 
duree).  If  I  have  endured  from  my  birth  until  now,  again,  that 
is  an  effect,  not  a  cause.  If  the  creative  Principle  is  to  produce 
anything  at  all,  it  must  at  least  produce  existence.  But  duration 
presupposes  existence.  I  must  actually  be  in  existence  in  order  to 
continue  in  existence.  To  say  that  duration  is  the  creative  prin- 
ciple of  existence,  is  to  say  that  the  effect  is  the  cause  of  the  cause. 

Then  we  may  regard  the  Principle  as  a  vital  push.  But  a  push 
supposes  a  pusher.  There  can  be  no  action  without  an  agent. 
Action  without  an  agent  would  be  a  very  useful  commodity  in 
business.  There  is  a  fortune  awaiting  the  man  who  will  discover  it. 
It  will  drive  steam  engines  without  steam  and  electrical  engines 
without  electricity.  But  where  will  you  find  it?  It  is  as  elusive 
as  a  snark.  You  may  seek  it  with  thimbles,  with  care,  with 
smiles,  with  forks,  with  hope,  and  with  soap,  and  even  then  every 
time  you  put  your  finger  on  it  you  will  find  it  not  there.  Why? 
Because  self -creation  is  an  incoherent  idea.  And  if  it  cannot  exist 
as  a  concept  of  the  mind,  a  fortiori  it  cannot  exist  in  the  world  of 
reality. 

^Creative  Evolution,  p.  262.  ilbid. 


1913-]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  639 

No  one  gives  what  he  has  not  got.  Therefore,  no  one  can 
give  existence  who  does  not  already  possess  it.  The  very  notion 
of  creation  postulates  a  Creator. 

Let  us,  however,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  grant  that  there  is 
a  pure  Becoming  which  creates  the  things  which  we  see,  our- 
selves included.  Even  then  the  ultimate  question  would  be  still 
unanswered,  for  pure  Becoming  could  never  be  a  First  Cause. 
M.  Bergson,  indeed,  admits  and  claims  that  the  pure  Becoming 
possesses  some  perfections,  and  is  devoid  of  others.  It  is  partly  in 
actuality  and  partly  in  potentiality.  Being  possessed  of  this  double 
quality,  it  necessarily  presupposes  a  pure  actuality.  An  absolutely 
first  cause  must  be  one  that  is  actuated  to  every  possible  per- 
fection. 

Here  we  are  at  the  very  foundation  of  philosophy.  We  must 
begin  with  axioms.  We  submit  the  following  as  self-evident : 

A  thing  is  perfect  in  so  far  as  it  is  in  actuality ;  it  is  imperfect, 
however,  in  so  far  as  it  is  in  potentiality. 

An  altogether  pure  actuality  is  altogether  perfect. 

A  potentiality,  as  such,  can  never  reduce  itself  to  actuality, 
but  it  must  be  reduced  to  actuality  by  some  active  principle. 

Every  changeable  being  possesses  actuality  and  potentiality. 

Actuality  is  always  prior  to  potentiality. 

Wherefore,  since  Becoming  has  some  perfection,  it  is  partly 
in  actuality.  And  since  it  is  devoid  of  some  perfection,  it  is 
partly  in  potentiality.  Now  whence  did  it  derive  its  actuality? 
Certainly  not  from  its  potentiality,  for  no  potentiality  can  reduce 
itself  to  actuality.  We  must,  therefore,  have  recourse  to  some 
ultimate  active  principle  which  is  pure  actuality. 

Hence  we  are  driven  back  from  the  God  of  Change,  as  de- 
scribed by  M.  Bergson,  to  the  God  of  a  full  and  active  eternity, 
as  described  by  St.  Thomas. 

Everything  that  has  in  its  substance  [writes  the  Angelic 
Doctor]  an  admixture  of  potentiality,  to  the  extent  that  it  has 
potentiality,  is  liable  not  to  be:  because  what  can  be,  can  also 
not  be.  But  God  in  Himself  cannot  not  be,  seeing  that  He  is 
everlasting;  therefore  there  is  in  God  no  potentiality. 

Although  in  order  of  time  that  which  is  sometimes  in  poten- 
tiality, sometimes  in  actuality,  is  in  potentiality  before  it  is 
in  actuality,  yet,  absolutely  speaking,  actuality  is  prior  to  po- 
tentiality, because  potentiality  does  not  bring  itself  into  actuality, 
but  is  brought  into  actuality  by  something  which  is  already 


640        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

in  actuality.  Everything,  therefore,  that  is  any  way  in  poten- 
tiality has  something  else  prior  to  it.  But  God  is  the  First 
Being  and  the  First  Cause,  and,  therefore,  has  not  in  Himself 
any  admixture  of  potentiality. 

Everything  acts  inasmuch  as  it  is  in  actuality.  Whatever  then 
is  not  all  actuality,  does  not  act  by  its  whole  self,  is  not  a  prime 
agent;  for  it  acts  by  participation  in  something  else,  not  by 
its  own  essence.  The  prime  agent  then,  which  is  God,  has  no 
admixture  of  potentiality,  but  is  pure  actuality. 

We  see  that  there  is  that  in  the  world  which  passes  from  po- 
tentiality to  actuality.  But  it  does  not  educe  itself  from  poten- 
tiality to  actuality,  because  what  is  in  potentiality  is  not  as 
yet,  and,  therefore,  cannot  act.  Therefore,  there  must  be  some 
other  prior  thing,  whereby  this  thing  may  be  brought  out  from 
potentiality  to  actuality.  And  again,  if  this  further  thing  is 
going  out  from  potentiality  to  actuality,  there  must  be  posited 
before  it  yet  some  other  thing,  whereby  it  may  be  reduced 
to  actuality.  But  this  process  cannot  go  on  for  ever :  therefore, 
we  must  come  to  something  that  is  only  in  actuality,  and  nowise 
in  potentiality ;  and  that  we  call  God.* 

Even  then  though  we  did  grant  that  the  principle  of  creative 
evolution  were  a  pure  Becoming,  the  problem  would  still  remain  as 
to  how,  why,  when,  and  wherefore  that  Becoming  began  to  become. 

The  truth  is  that  M.  Bergson  has  reversed  the  dictates  of  com- 
mon sense.  He  has  made  becoming  prior  to  being;  he  has  made 
potentiality  superior  to  actuality;  he  has  made  non-being  superior 
to  being.  Worked  out  to  its  ultimate  absurdity,  his  philosophy 
implies  that  the  First  Cause  is  Non-Being.  Then  where  did  we 
all  come  from  ?  We  simply  grew. 

Listen  how  M.  Bergson  avows  all  this.  "  We  said,"  he  writes, 
"  there  is  more  in  a  movement  than  in  the  successive  positions 
attributed  to  the  moving  object,  more  in  a  becoming  than  in  the 
forms  passed  through  in  turn,  more  in  the  evolution  of  form 
than  the  forms  assumed  one  after  another."f  Thus  becoming  is 
more  perfect  than  being,  a  mixture  of  potentiality,  and  actuality 
more  perfect  than  pure  actuality. 

But,  once  again,  no  one  can  give  what  he  has  not  got.  A 
man  can  not  do  more  than  he  is  "  up  to."  The  imperfect  cannot 
of  itself  roll  out  into  the  perfect.  Hence  self-perfectibility  is  seen 
to  be  not  only  a  theological  heresy,  but  also  a  metaphysical  ab- 
surdity. 

*Contra  Gentiles,  Lib.  I.,  Cap.  XVI.  ^Creative  Evolution,  p.  333. 


1913-]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  641 

At  this  point  we  may  ask  why  should  M.  Bergson,  and  with  him 
the  whole  school  of  modernist  philosophy,  prefer  a  changeable  and 
perfectible  God  to  an  unchangeable  and  all-perfect  God?  It  is  because 
they  will  not  take  the  trouble  to  understand  St.  Thomas*  doctrine. 
They  will  regard  unchangeableness  as  a  sort  of  petrifaction.  They 
will  not  see  in  it  the  very  fullness  of  activity.  They,  who  are 
ready  to  impute  anthropomorphism  to  the  orthodox,  are  themselves 
shut  up  in  the  crudest  anthropomorphism.  Seeing  that  the  an- 
thropos  is  always  changing,  they  are  unable  to  rise  to  the  concept 
of  a  theos  which  never  changes.  Their  mistake  is  not  that  of 
thinking  of  God  in  human  thought-forms.  We  all  do  that,  nor 
can  we  think  of  God  in  any  other  way.  Their  mistake  is  in 
forgetting  that  their  thought-forms  are  human,  and  in  taking  them 
to  be  adequate  representations  of  the  ultimate  unspeakable  Reality. 

Having  pointed  out  the  shortcomings  of  the  God  of  Time  and 
Change,  it  remains  for  us  to  give  a  more  positive  description  of 
our  own  timeless  and  unchangeable  God.  He  not  only  possesses 
life,  and  gives  life  to  all  living  creatures,  but  He  is  life  itself. 

Our  knowledge  of  God's  life  can  only  be  obtained  by  inference 
from  what  we  know  of  our  own.  Now  we  know  of  our  own 
lives  that  they  are  imperfect.  Every  day  we  gain  new  experience. 
There  is  always  something  new  for  us  to  know  and  to  enjoy. 
No  morrow  comes  and  finds  us  exactly  in  the  same  condition 
as  we  were  yesterday.  We  are  always  in  a  state  of  transition  from 
potentiality  to  actuality. 

God,  on  the  contrary,  since  He  is  absolutely  perfect,  is  in- 
capable of  acquiring  new  perfections.  His  incapacity  to  change 
is  due  not  to  an  exhaustion  or  want  of  activity,  but  to  a  complete 
fullness  of  activity.  This  activity,  indeed,  is  so  perfect  and  abso- 
lute that  it  admits  of  no  potentiality  whatever.  Hence  He  is 
incapable  of  any  transition  from  potentiality  to  actuality. 

The  life,  therefore,  which  we  attribute  to  God  is  life  of  the 
most  eminent  kind,  a  kind  wholly  different  from  ours,  for  it  is 
all  pure  actuality.  Ours  is  only  a  participation  of  life,  and  so 
we  are  said  to  possess  life.  But  God  is  all  life,  and  so  we  say 
that  He  is  Life.  No  one  gives  it  to  Him.  He  is  it  from  all 
eternity. 

Moreover,   He  gives  it  to  all  who  share  in  it.     He  is  the 

Life  of  all  lives.     "  Ye  men  of  Athens God  Who  made  the 

world  and  all  things  therein,  He,  being  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  hands;  neither  is  He  served 

VOL.  xcvn.— 41 


642        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

with  men's  hands  as  if  He  needed  anything;  seeing  it  is  He  Who 
giveth  to  all  life,  and  breath,  and  all  things."* 

Nor  is  the  life  of  God  a  sort  of  fiery  volcano,  nor  a  huge 
disordered  sphere  of  activity  with  a  continuity  of  shooting-out. 
Divine  life  is  activity  of  the  highest  order.  We  give  it  the  nearest 
description  possible  when  we  say  that  it  is  a  life  of  perfect  Wisdom. 

Again,  even  the  wisdom  which  we  attribute  to  God  is  known 
only  by  the  analogy  of  human  wisdom.  Human  wisdom  is  that 
mental  activity  which  peers  into  both  speculative  and  practical 
truth,  and  ordains  things  to  their  proper  end.  This  is  undoubtedly 
the  supreme  attribute  of  God.  It  is  the  highest  form  of  spirit 
life  that  we  can  imagine.  When  we  speak  of  God  as  the  Being, 
that  does  not  express  to  us  His  vital  activity.  When  we  speak  of 
Him  as  the  Life,  that  does  not  express  to  us  the  more  interesting 
attributes  of  knowledge  and  love.  But  when  we  speak  of  Him  as 
the  Wisdom,  then  we  express  His  life  of  intelligence  and  love, 
and  we  see  how  this  intelligence  and  love  acts  both  within  and 
without,  inwardly  understanding  and  loving  the  Divine  Essence, 
outwardly  understanding  and  loving  all  creation. 

Thus  it  is  by  His  wisdom  that  God  knows  all  possible  truth, 
and  loves  all  possible  good.  It  is  by  His  wisdom  that  He  forms 
a  due  estimate  of  the  value  of  all  things  in  reference  to  His  final 
plan.  It  is  by  His  wisdom  that  He  is  able  to  economize  and  order 
all  things  in  accord  with  this  plan.  Hence,  Wisdom  expresses 
the  sum  total  of  God's  activities,  that  full  perfection  of  life,  so 
perfect  as  to  admit  of  no  further  perfection. 

Moreover,  this  activity  of  divine  intellect  and  will  is  no  cold 
intellectualism  or  uninterested  volitionalism.  It  is  an  activity 
which  constitutes  an  infinite  Happiness  and  Glory. 

Happiness  is  the  satisfaction  and  restfulness  in  the  fruition  of 
some  good  known  and  loved.  But  God  both  knows  and  loves 
the  most  perfect  goodness  and  beauty.  He  is  Himself  the  exemplar 
and  source  of  all  possible  goodness  and  beauty.  But  He  knows 
Himself.  Such  knowledge  can  only  prompt  the  most  perfect  love. 
Such  love  can  only  make  the  most  perfect  rapture  and  hap- 
piness. 

This  divine  activity,  too,  produces  the  greatest  possible  splen- 
dor. The  divine  intelligence  and  love  are  aglow  with  the  riches 
of  truth  and  goodness.  We  all  know  the  brightness  of  a  household 
where  a  happy  child  is  playing  about.  Happiness  sheds  brightness 

*Acts  xvii,  22,  et.  seq. 


1913-]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  643 

everywhere  and  always.  Every  little  ray  of  brightness  which  is 
shed  by  a  happy  creature  is  an  indication  of  the  glory  which 
emanates  from  the  divine  blessedness.  If  God's  happiness  is  su- 
preme, so  also  must  His  Splendor  be  supreme.  Well  may  St. 
Paul  speak  of  "  the  glory  of  the  blessed  God."* 

This  fact  of  God  deriving  His  happiness  and  splendor  from 
His  own  intrinsic  wealth,  serves  again  to  show  up  the  fallacy 
of  the  modern  doctrine  of  man's  self-perfectibility.  If  one  thing 
is  obvious  in  the  present  rush  and  tear  of  society,  it  is  that  a  man 
can  never  be  satisfied  with  his  own  intrinsic  wealth.  He  must  be 
always  seeking  happiness  from  without.  Every  improvement  in 
his  well-being  is  due  to  some  educative  influence  from  without. 
And  if  the  series  of  causes  which  contribute  to  man's  happiness 
be  traced  to  their  ultimate  source,  they  will  be  found  to  lead  to  that 
Cause  which  is  uncaused,  the  God  Whose  happiness  and  splendor 
is  supreme,  the  Wisdom  which  has  no  needs  within  itself,  but  which 
is  the  satisfaction  of  all  needs  outside  itself. 

Naturally  we  pay  more  attention  to  the  divine  fecundity  which 
is  manifested  in  creation,  than  to  that  which  is  active  within  the 
bosom  of  God  Himself.  Yet,  after  all,  the  inner  fecundity  of  God 
is  the  most  important  of  all  mysteries.  It  has  a  practical  bearing 
on  our  own  lives.  If  only  we  could  realize  a  little  more  the  intrinsic 
beauties  of  the  Godhead,  we  should  appreciate  more  the  divine  con- 
descension in  creating  an  outer  world  to  share  in  the  divine 
happiness.  The  outward  fecundity  of  God  takes  on  a  much  greater 
significance  when  considered  together  with  the  inward  fecundity  of 
God,  the  mystery  of  the  Blessed  Trinity. 

We  do  not  pretend  that  we  can  explain  either  the  mystery 
without  or  the  mystery  within.  A  mystery  is  a  truth  which  is 
partly  revealed  and  partly  concealed.  But  what  we  do  say  is  that 
if  we  take  these  mysteries  as  we  know  them,  that  is,  in  so  far  as 
they  are  revealed  to  our  understanding,  even  then  they  are  far 
more  intelligible  than  the  Bergsonian  fireworks. 

Let  us  first  try  to  apprehend  something  of  the  richness,  fullness, 
and  consistency  of  the  inner  fecundity  of  the  divine  life. 

To  begin  with,  God  is  a  pure  and  infinite  actuality.  In  this 
He  is  essentially  different  from  all  His  creatures.  Consequently 
His  internal  productivity  will  be  quite  different  from  that  which 
we  observe  in  creatures.  It  is  not  a  reproduction  of  the  divine 
nature  as  the  formation  of  a  new  man  is  the  reproduction  of  a 

*i   Tim.  i.   ii. 


644        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

human  nature.  We  are  forbidden  to  say  that  there  can  be  three 
Gods. 

Nor  yet  is  the  inner  fecundity  a  production  of  organisms 
whereby  the  divine  life  may  develop  and  extend  itself.  It  is  wholly 
within,  wholly  immanent.  It  is  an  energy  which  is  expressed  in 
distinct  subjects,  yet  all  within  the  one  divine  nature.  What  can 
these  subjects  be? 

Once  again  we  have  recourse  to  human  analogies.  We  ask 
ourselves  what  are  the  highest  forms  of  activity  that  we  know. 
They  are  intelligence  and  will.  And  the  subject  in  which  intel- 
ligence and  will  are  united  is  a  personality.  Hence  if  the  inner 
divine  fecundity  is  to  express  itself  in  the  highest  possible  form, 
if  it  is  to  issue  in  subjects  which  are  units  of  intelligence  and  will, 
it  must  issue  in  personalities.  How  shall  we  describe  these  per- 
sonalities ? 

We  have  seen  that  the  attribute  of  Wisdom  is  the  most  ade- 
quate description  of  the  divine  life  that  we  can  think  of.  This 
term  also  indicates  the  kind  of  the  fecundity.  Wisdom  is  at  once 
the  most  perfect  knowledge  of  the  most  perfect  truth,  and  the  most 
perfect  love  of  the  most  perfect  good.  The  divine  fecundity  there- 
fore issues  as  acts  of  the  divine  Intellect  and  the  divine  Will.  The 
results  of  these  acts  must  express  and  complete  the  divine  Knowl- 
edge and  Volition.  As  finished  products  they  are  the  most  perfect 
outcome  of  the  divine  Wisdom.  Each  of  them  is  a  complete 
actuality,  unmixed  with  the  slightest  trace  of  any  potentiality. 
If  this  were  not  so  they  would  not  be  complete.  They  would  still 
be  capable  of  additional  perfection. 

But  the  perfect  Wisdom  of  God  consists  of  two  activities, 
namely,  knowledge  and  volition.  As  the  outcome  of  the  divine 
fecundity,  therefore,  there  will  be  two  personalities,  one  issuing 
as  the  divine  intelligence,  the  other  as  the  divine  love.  But  in- 
telligence and  love  in  God  are  not  independent  of  each  other. 
God  neither  understands  without  loving  nor  loves  without  under- 
standing. Knowledge  is  the  way  to  love.  Even  in  the  divine 
fecundity  nothing  can  be  loved  that  is  not  already  known.  Hence 
the  Knowledge  which  is  the  term  of  the  divine  Understanding  is  a 
Knowledge  which  breathes  forth  Love.  To  the  personality  which 
is  the  principle  of  the  divine  fecundity  there  is  given  the  appro- 
priate name  of  Father;  to  that  which  is  the  offspring  by  way  of 
understanding,  the  name  of  Son;  and  to  that  which  is  the  offspring 
of  a  double  breathing  out  of  love,  the  name  of  Holy  Ghost. 


1913.]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY          645 

Taken  at  its  lowest  estimate,  this  account  of  the  inner  fecund- 
ity of  God  is  a  magnificent  working  hypothesis.  It  is  fraught  with 
none  of  the  puerilities  of  the  Bergsonian  half-made  centre,  which 
is  a  continuity  of  shooting-out.  Although  the  union  of  three  per- 
sons in  one  nature  is  a  truth  transcending  human  reason,  it  does 
not  do  violence  to  human  reason  in  the  way  that  the  Bergsonian 
speculations  do.  And  when  the  theory  is  read  in  the  light  of  the 
inspired  word,  it  becomes  much  more  than  a  reasonable  working 
hypothesis.  It  becomes  a  certitude  of  a  very  high  order. 

See,  for  instance,  how  the  title  Wisdom  is  appropriated  to  the 
Son  because  He  is  the  reflection  of  the  Wisdom  of  the  Father. 
Notice  how  the  title  Logos  of  the  Greek  Testament  harmonizes  with 
the  Verbum.  of  the  scholastics.  Both  concepts  were  derived  from 
widely  different  sources,  yet  both  are  most  aptly  used  to  express 
the  supreme,  initial,  eternal,  and  final  judgment  of  the  Godhead. 
So  too  with  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  is  said  to  proceed  as  the  "  Gift " 
or  "  Pledge  "  of  love.  And  if  love  in  human  beings  is  essentially 
an  act  of  the  will,  and  not  passion  or  feeling,  much  more  so  is  it 
in  God.  Just  as  knowledge  tends  towards  expression,  so  love 
tends  towards  effusion. 

The  difficulty  of  forming  a  mental  picture  of  all  this  produc- 
tivity, is  due  to  our  experience  of  ourselves.  When  we  produce 
things,  it  is  because  we  want  them.  In  God  there  is  no  want. 
The  real  basis  of  the  divine  fecundity  is  not  a  need  to  produce 
something.  It  is  not  the  need  of  further  perfection.  It  is  the 
very  fullness  of  divine  life.  By  the  light  of  reason  we  could  never 
have  guessed  that  this  fecundity  would  issue  in  two  divine  persons. 
But  after  the  revelation  has  been  received,  we  can  see  how  very 
reasonable  it  is. 

So  too  is  it  with  the  mystery  of  creation.  Without  the  reve- 
lation we  should  be  in  the  same  boat  with  M.  Bergson,  tortured 
with  the  problem  as  to  why  anything  should  be.  But,  knowing  the 
fullness  and  the  richness  of  the  divine  fecundity,  we  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  looking  to  God's  Will  as  the  reason  for  the  existence 
of  creation. 

Since  God  is  the  only  necessary  Being,  the  only  perfect  and 
full  Actuality,  all  other  beings  must  owe  their  existence  to  Him. 
Nor  are  they  made  out  of  His  substance.  His  perfect  actuality, 
simplicity,  and  unchangeableness  excludes  that  supposition.  They 
must,  therefore,  be  made  out  of  nothing.  And  when,  in  this  con- 
text, we  use  the  word  "  nothing  "  we  do  not  mean  "  something." 


646        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

The  nought  is  not  a  sort  of  half-defined  blue  jelly  out  of  which 
things  were  made.  It  is  merely  the  term  from  which  things  begin 
to  be.  The  word  "  nothing  "  simply  means  non-being. 

Our  apology  for  making  such  crude  remarks  is  that  M.  Berg- 
son,  in  his  characteristic  way,  juggles  with  the  word  "  nothing," 
endeavoring  to  show  that,  through  misuse  of  the  word,  the  prob- 
lem of  existence  is  but  a  pseudo-problem.  Hitherto,  he  says,  man 
has  had  a  false  idea  of  the  nought.  If  only  we  could  get  rid 
of  the  false  idea  of  nothingness,  then  the  problem  as  to  why 
anything  should  exist  would  vanish. 

Through  twenty-six  highly  decorative  pages*  of  literature, 
M.  Bergson  labors  to  show  up  this  false  idea  of  nothingness. 
The  idea  of  "  nothing  "  is  either  an  image,  or  a  positive  idea,  or  a 
negative  idea.  Quite  easily  he  disposes  of  the  first  two  suppo- 
sitions, and  incidentally  paints  a  word  picture  of  "  nothing,"  which 
is  worthy  of  a  frame  and  a  place  in  a  post-impressionist  gallery. 
We  quite  agree  with  him  in  his  contention,  that  we  can  neither 
form  an  image  of  "  nothing,"  nor  identify  it  with  "  something." 

We  disagree  with  him,  however,  when  he  contends  that  we 
cannot  have  even  a  negative  idea  of  "  nothing." 

To  sum  up  [he  says]  for  a  mind  which  should  follow  purely  and 
simply  the  thread  of  experience,  there  would  be  no  void,  no 
nought,  even  relative  or  partial,  no  possible  negation.  Such 
a  mind  would  see  facts  succeed  facts,  states  succeed  states,- 
things  succeed  things.  What  it  would  note  at  each  moment 
would  be  things  existing,  states  appearing,  events  happening. 
It  would  live  in  the  actual,  and,  if  it  were  capable  of  judging, 
it  would  never  affirm  anything  except  the  existence  of  the 
present.f 

Here  we  must  answer  with  a  distinction.  We  grant  that  an 
absolute  nought  cannot  be  affirmed.  We  deny  that  an  absolute 
nought  cannot  be  thought.  The  absolute  nought  is  a  being  of  the 
mind  (ens  rationis),  not  a  being  amongst  things  which  appear  and 
happen  (ens  reale) .  Our  whole  contention  throughout  these  studies 
has  been  that  the  real  is  that  which  exists,  whether  the  mind  knows 
about  it  or  not.  So,  too,  the  unreal  is  that  which  does  not  exist, 
notwithstanding  whether  the  mind  thinks  about  it  or  not.  Hence 
we  can  think  of  the  nought,  without  the  nought  having  any  objective 
reality.  The  absolute  nought  is  a  pure  figment  of  the  mind. 

i    ^Creative  Evolution,  pp.  288-314.  ^Ibid.,  p.  310. 


1913.]       BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY  647 

With  this  distinction  before  him,  let  the  reader  go  through 
M.  Bergson's  last  statement,  and  notice  the  logical  fallacy  uttered 
in  every  word.  The  fallacy  is  known  as  the  illicit  transit  from 
the  ontological  to  the  logical  order.  Thus  the  author  asks  us  to 
follow  the  thread  of  concrete  experience;  to  observe  that  facts 
succeed  facts,  states  succeed  states,  and  things  succeed  things;  to 
notice  that  there  is  no  "  nought  "  in  the  realm  of  reality;  and  then 
to  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  there  can  be  no  "  nought "  in  the 
realm  of  abstraction.  Of  course  this  logical  fallacy  arises  from 
the  previous  psychological  fallacy  of  confusing  abstract  thought 
with  concrete  feeling. 

Once  again  St.  Thomas  has  anticipated  the  difficulty  and  an- 
swered it.  Discussing  the  question  as  to  whether  truth  is  con> 
mensurate  and  identical  with  being,  he  thus  formulates  his  ob- 
jection :  "  That  which  extends  to  being  and  non-being  is  not 
identical  and  commensurate  with  being.  But  truth  extends  to  being 
and  non-being:  for  both  statements  are  equally  true,  that  what 
is  is,  and  what  is  not  is  not.  Therefore  truth  and  being  are  not 
identical  and  commensurate." 

To  this  difficulty  he  replies  as  follows :  "  Non-being  has  not 
got  that  in  itself  whereby  it  may  be  recognized.  Still  it  may  be 
recognized  in  so  far  as  the  intellect  renders  it  knowable.  Hence 
truth  is  only  based  on  non-being  in  so  far  as  non-being  is  a  being 
of  the  reason,  that  is,  in  so  far  as  it  is  apprehended  by  the  reason."* 

Then  if  we  turn  to  the  Contra  Gentiles,  we  shall  find  passages 
which  might  have  been  expressly  written  to  refute  the  philosophy 
of  change. 

Hence  appears  the  futility  of  arguments  against  creation  drawn 
from  the  nature  of  movement  or  change — as  that  creation  must 
be  in  some  subject,  or  that  not-being  must  be  transmitted 
into  being:  for  creation  is  not  a  change,  but  is  the  mere  de- 
pendence of  created  being  on  the  principle  by  which  it  is  set  up, 
and  so  comes  under  the  category  of  relation:  hence  the  sub- 
ject of  creation  may  very  well  be  said  to  be  the  thing  created. 
Nevertheless  creation  is  spoken  of  as  a  "  change "  according 
to  our  mode  of  conceiving  it,  inasmuch  as  our  understanding 
takes  one  and  the  same  thing  to  be  now  non-existent  and  after- 
wards existing.f 

*Summa,  p.  i.,  qu.  XVI.,  a.  3.,  ad.  2m.  The  Latin  is  more  apt  than  English 
for  manipulating  the  verb  "  to  be."  Id  quod  extendit  ad  ens  et  non  ens,  non 
convertitur  cum  ente :  sed  verum  se  extendit  ad  ens  et  non  ens:  nam  vernm  est, 
quod  est  esse,  et  quod  non  est  non  esse ;  ergo  verum  et  ens  non  convertuntur. 

^Contra  Gentiles,   Lib.   II.,   Cap.   XVIII.     See   also   Cap.   XIX. 


648        BERGSON  AND  THE  DIVINE  FECUNDITY         [Aug., 

So  St.  Thomas  was  quite  alive  to  the  tendency  of  the  human 
mind  to  regard  "nothing"  as  "something."  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  was  not  such  a  muddled  thinker  as  to  be  beguiled  into 
confusing  the  "  nought  "  of  thought  with  the  "  nought  "  of  reality. 
The  "  nought "  of  thought  must  of  necessity  be  retained  to  desig- 
nate the  non-being  from  which,  through  the  activity  of  the  all- 
active  Creator,  creation  began  to  be. 

Thus  the  last  fallacy  of  the  philosophy  of  change  is  seen  to 
spring  from  the  same  source  as  the  first  and  all  intervening  ones, 
namely,  the  denial  of  the  validity  of  human  intelligence.  If  we 
maim  the  natural  instrument  of  thought,  then  we  must  not  be  sur- 
prised if  we  see  things  upside  down  or  inside  out.  If  we  destroy 
intelligence,  the  faculty  of  truth,  then  we  must  not  expect  to 
enjoy  that  repose  and  satisfaction  which  comes  only  of  the  con- 
templation of  truth. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  resolutely  determine  that  we  will 
not  prostitute  our  reason,  but  that  we  will  keep  it  enthroned  as 
the  ruler  of  life,  then  we  may  hope  to  make  the  best  of  life. 

Through  intuitive  reason  we  can  see  the  first  principles  of 
knowledge,  that  things  are  what  they  normally  appear  to  be,  that 
every  effect  must  have  a  cause,  and  that  no  effect  is  greater  than 
its  cause. 

Through  discursive  reason  we  can  argue  back  to  the  uncaused 
Cause  of  all  causes,  to  the  pure  Actuality  whence  comes  all  par- 
ticipated actuality,  to  that  infinitely  fecund  Life  which  is  the  Life 
of  life.  Does  M.  Bergson  tell  us  that  by  turning  away  from 
intelligence  and  turning  to  animal  instinct,  we  shall  get  into  touch 
with  life?  Pooh!  Does  he  tell  us  that  by  retracing  the  steps 
which  reason  has  laboriously  cut  out  for  us,  we  shall  attain  to  the 
highest  life?  Pooh!  Pooh!  It  might  take  us  to  the  life  of  time. 
But  that  is  not  what  we  happen  to  want.  We  want  the  life  of 
eternity,  the  perfect  possession,  wholly  and  all  at  once,  of  life 
without  end.  And  that  happens  to  consist  of  intellectual  knowl- 
edge, the  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God,  and  of  Jesus  Christ 
Whom  He  has  sent. 


THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE. 


BY  EVELYN  MARCH   PHILLIPPS. 


N  endeavor  has  been  made  in  a  previous  essay*  on 
this  subject  to  show  how  far  the  efforts  of  the  men 
of  the  Renaissance  to  make  the  revival  a  purely  in- 
tellectual one,  on  the  lines  of  the  masters  of  classic 
thought,  were  discounted  by  a  great  influence,  un- 
perceived  by  their  preoccupied  minds,  and  it  was  proposed  to  trace, 
through  the  medium  of  the  art  of  those  days,  some  signs  by  which 
this  influence  was  manifested. 

To  say  that  art  is  the  expression  of  life,  is  to  say  that  it  is 
the  outcome  and  the  interpreter  of  its  age.  It  is  so  intensely  the 
product  of  its  environment  that  the  two  cannot  be  separated.  Prob- 
ably the  study  of  art  on  these  lines,  conduces  to  a  more  profound 
and  accurate  knowledge  of  its  time  than  comes  to  us  in  any  other 
way.  The  historian  reconstructing  the  story,  is  biased  by  his  own 
perception  and  temperament,  and  the  facts  read  in  one  way  by 
one  man  will  produce  an  entirely  different  impression  on  another. 
But  the  surviving  works  of  any  age  are  their  own  witness.  They 
are  the  impress  which  past  generations  have  made  of  themselves, 
and  from  every  period  in  which  art  was  able  to  find  adequate 
expression,  we  are  able  to  extract  the  character  and  bias  of  the 
aims  and  thoughts  of  those  among  whom  its  creations  arose. 

We  are  not  to  stop  short  with  classic  buildings  and  statues. 
The  same  interpretative  medium  poured  itself  into  the  later  civiliza- 
tion. Following  down  the  current  of  human  affairs,  it  takes  charge 
of  the  Renaissance,  investigating  alike  the  intellectual  bias  which 
looked  back  to  Athens,  and  the  spiritual  bias  which  looked  back 
to  Bethlehem,  and  to  find  both  elements  uneasily  mingled  all  through 
Renaissance  life  and  art. 

At  some  future  time  it  may  be  possible  to  analyze  how  fully 
the  atmosphere  of  officialdom  and  arrested  individuality  are  illus- 
trated by  the  later  Byzantine  school.  That  was  the  stagnant  pool 
across  which  the  earliest  breath  of  the  coming  revival  blew  like 
the  freshening  breeze  of  early  dawn.  It  is  with  the  advent  of 
Giotto  that  it  first  gathers  strength  and  volume.  We  have  sug- 

*See  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  June,  1913. 


650    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE     [Aug., 

gested  St.  Francis  as  the  origin  of  that  re-awakened  spiritual 
tendency  which  was  so  opposed  to  the  triumphant  march  of  reason. 
It  was  inevitable  that  Giotto's  transcendent  talent  should  have  been 
called  upon  to  chronicle  the  events  in  the  Saint's  life;  events 
which  were  so  picturesque  and  so  endeared  to  his  followers  as 
to  supply  artists  through  succeeding  centuries  with  an  inexhaustible 
wealth  of  subject  matter,  and  yet  the  connection  of  Giotto  and 
St.  Francis  is  almost  ironic,  for  all  the  frescoes  from  the  hand 
of  the  great  Florentine  tell  of  a  nature  radically  opposed  to  that 
of  the  Saint,  and  peculiarly  devoid  of  the  characteristics  for  which 
St.  Francis  stood. 

If  ever  a  man  spoke  the  mind  of  his  age  and  surroundings, 
Giotto  spoke  that  of  Florence  and  the  Renaissance.  The  first 
typical  Florentine  painter,  he  vigorously  shows  the  determination 
to  see  things  as  they  really  are.  In  his  hands  art  puts  on  the  in- 
tellectual guise,  and  adopts  those  methods  of  the  reason  which 
already  existed  in  full  force  in  the  life  around  him.  The  art  of 
the  fourteenth  century  was  less  an  awakening  than  a  ply  or  bias 
given  it  in  the  direction  of  the  mind,  and  Giotto  was  before  all  else 
a  man  of  intellect.  In  the  painter  and  the  subject  which  the 
inclination  of  society  naturally  allotted  to  him,  we  have  the  whole 
dual  movement  expressed.  The  contrast  between  St.  Francis  and 
the  first  great  illustrator  of  his  career  is  one  which  has  largely 
escaped  notice,  owing  mainly  to  Ruskin  treating  of  Giotto  as 
if  he  were  imbued  with  the  same  spirit,  whereas  we  can  see  without 
the  slightest  doubt  that  he  is  a  man  of  totally  opposite  nature. 
Rational,  shrewd,  practical,  absorbent  in  creating  great  works, 
more  engrossed  in  unravelling  art  problems  than  in  expressing  the 
spiritual  idea,  he  reveals  himself  as  a  man  of  artistic  aptitude,  of 
intense  vitality,  but  not  as  one  of  spiritual  vision.  He  is  grandly 
dramatic,  but  he  is  not  pathetic  or  moving.  He  has  little  intuition 
of  that  temper  of  joyous  romance,  rather  than  of  mortification  and 
renunciation,  in  which  St.  Francis  cast  off  all  that  was  not  essential 
to  the  union  of  the  soul  with  its  Savior. 

The  frescoes  at  Assisi  witness  unmistakably  to  this  intellectual 
and  rational  spirit.  Where  "  St.  Francis  renounces  his  heritage," 
Giotto  grasps  the  unusual  opportunity  afforded  for  painting  the 
nude,  and  makes  a  powerful  muscular  study  for  his  Saint,  giving 
a  sense  of  solid  form,  but  conveying  little  idea  of  one  who  has 
fought  and  agonized  in  a  great  spiritual  conflict.  The  figures 
standing  round,  the  father,  the  ecclesiastics,  are  finely  composed  and 
learnedly  built,  but  they  are  cold  and  unconcerned  in  feeling,  in 


1913.]     THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    651 

spite  of  their  appropriate  gestures.  In  Santa  Croce,  the  painter 
in  a  splendid  scene  before  the  Soldan,  presents  heroic  types  in 
action,  but  his  natural,  his  evident  leaning  is  towards  the  monu- 
mental and  dramatic;  he  is  not  possessed  of  the  frenzy  of  faith. 
In  the  famous  scene  of  the  Saint's  deathbed,  the  indifferent,  pillar- 
like  group  of  churchmen  on  either  hand  is  introduced  to  set-off 
the  undulating  figures  of  the  mourners,  and  excessive  feeling  is 
subordinated  to  the  fascination  of  scientific  composition.  So, 
throughout,  the  stately  rhythm  and  movement  in  the  "  Procession 
of  the  Virgin"  (at  Padua),  the  grandeur  and  simplicity  of  Mary 
as  she  leads  the  Blessed  in  the  "  Last  Judgment,"  are  Greek  in  their 
monumental  quality,  in  the  treatment  of  form  and  drapery.  They 
show  every  gift  save  that  poetic  fervor,  that  atmosphere  of  spirit- 
ual evocation,  upon  which  Florence,  well  on  its  way  to  the  full 
Renaissance,  no  longer  set  great  store. 

And  here,  let  us  realize,  was  the  key  to  the  whole  situation. 
If  all  other  chronicles  failed  us,  we  could  guess  from  Giotto's 
frescoes  what  were  the  demands  society  was  making  upon  the 
men  commissioned  to  express  its  ideals.  The  world  in  which 
Giotto  lived,  the  patrons  for  whom  he  worked,  no  longer  asked  for 
religious  thought.  Not  that  the  Renaissance  lacked  men  still  nom- 
inally in  touch  with  traditional  faith,  and  even  men  definitely  re- 
ligious, who  like  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  in  the  next  generation,  were 
eager  to  reconcile  Christian  with  Pagan  teaching,  but  that  the 
dominant  tendency  of  society  was  more  and  more  concerned  to 
exalt  the  claims  of  man  to  mental  freedom,  and  to  break  the  fetters 
which  had  been  imposed  by  mediaeval  authority. 

So  those  coming  after  Giotto,  the  scientific  discoverers,  the 
students  of  anatomy  and  perspective  and  other  forms  of  research, 
broke  away  still  more  definitely  from  the  dominion  of  religious 
feeling.  The  forms  were  retained  but  the  spirit  vanished.  The 
Realists,  the  disciples  of  form  (the  quality  of  pure  intellect),  still 
carved  and  painted  Madonnas  and  Crucifixions  and  Holy  Conversa- 
tions, but  the  subject  was  hardly  more  than  a  peg  upon  which  to 
hang  the  result  of  anatomical  studies,  illustration  of  values,  the 
fascinating  formulae  of  perspective.  To  those  who  saw  the  studies  of 
Pollajuolo,  the  experiments  of  Castagno  and  Domenico  Veneziano, 
of  Piero  de'  Franceschi,  and  Paolo  Uccello,  the  intellectual  aspect 
of  art  for  a  time  must  have  seemed  the  logical  outcome  of  the 
scientific  culture  in  which  their  whole  world  was  steeped.  It  was 
the  voice  and  outward  manifestation  of  what  they  were  all  thinking 
of,  and  caring  for.  Not  in  Florence  shall  we  find  an  early  art 


652    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    [Aug., 

showing  a  high  spiritual  level,  and  testifying  to  the  existence  of  that 
note  of  thought  which  in  the  end  stole  away  the  power  of  the 
Renaissance  completely  to  assimilate  classic  tradition. 

Among  the  towns  which  stood  apart  from  Florence,  Siena  is 
the  most  conspicuous.  She  lived  an  isolated  life,  antagonistic  in 
its  main  lines  to  that  of  the  city  on  the  Arno.  The  Sienese  were 
the  most  emotional,  the  most  fiercely  mystical  of  all  the  people 
of  Italy,  nurturing  saints  as  freely  as  Florence  produced  humanists 
and  men  of  science.  In  Siena  the  Renaissance  took  the  form  of  a 
religious  rather  than  a  scientific  movement,  and  instead  of  re- 
ligion being  subordinated  to  science,  it  remained  the  dominant 
interest.  In  that  bare,  mountainous  country,  among  a  fervent 
and  idealistic  race,  the  painters  witness  to  the  spirit  that  ran 
through  it.  With  Duccio,  they  cling  to  the  mysticism  of  the  East, 
as  handed  down  by  the  Byzantine  School,  and  the  sacred  subjects 
are  treated  in  a  way  that  shows  by  what  sympathies  all  their  en- 
vironment was  permeated ;  a  method  deficient  on  the  scientific  side, 
but  which  keeps  the  old  spiritual  perfume. 

A  hundred  years  after  Giotto,  a  Sienese  painter,  Stefano  Sas- 
setta,  produced  a  series  of  frescoes  dealing  with  the  same  incidents 
in  the  life  of  the  beloved  Saint  that  Giotto  had  painted  on  the  walls 
of  Assisi,  and  any  of  my  readers  who  will  take  the  trouble  to 
compare  photographs  of  the  work  of  the  two  men,  perhaps  most 
readily  accessible  in  Mr.  Berenson's  book,  A  Painter  of  the  Fran- 
ciscan Legend,  will  realize  the  strength  of  my  argument.  Sassetta 
is  specially  instanced,  not  because  he  was  anything  like  so  great 
a  painter  as  Giotto,  but  because,  like  him,  he  was  the  head  of  a 
school,  and  bequeathed  his  characteristics  to  the  whole  group  of 
Sienese  painters,  by  whom  he  was  followed.  In  Sassetta  we  find 
just  those  qualities  which  Giotto  lacked.  He  is  sadly  wanting  in 
knowledge  and  science  as  Florence  understood  them,  but  his  St. 
Francis,  whether  renouncing  his  worldly  career,  or  giving  his  cloak 
to  the  beggar,  or  espousing  Holy  Poverty,  really  commends  to  us 
a  type  adequate  and  touching.  Sassetta's  aim  is  to  realize  the 
personality  of  that  seraphic,  romantic  soul  who  exalted  poverty 
and  self-sacrifice  into  an  idyllic  incarnation,  which  had  power  to  in- 
spire rapture  rather  than  resignation. 

Mr.  Berenson  points  out  that  in  the  "  Marriage  of  St.  Francis  " 
in  the  Lower  Church  at  Assisi,  which  if  not  painted  by  Giotto,  was 
produced  under  his  immediate  influence,  the  artist  has  been  en- 
grossed in  planning  his  figures  into  a  fine  decorative  composition, 
in  which  the  Saint,  "  a  sleek  young  monk,"  has  been  created  with 


1913-]     THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    653 

no  poignant  emotion ;  but  Sassetta,  in  his  version  of  the  same  inci- 
dent, gives  the  whole  chivalrous  reading  of  the  Fioretti.  And 
this  is  what  the  poet-painter,  full  still  of  the  ardent  love  and  rev- 
erence that  lingers  in  his  city,  has  made  of  it: 

"  In  the  foreground  of  a  spacious  plain,  three  maidens  stand 

side  by  side The  one  in  brown  is  barefooted  and  most  plainly 

clad,  but  it  is  on  her  hand  that  the  ardent  Saint,  with  an  eager 
bend  of  his  body,  bestows  his  ring.  Then  swiftly  they  take  flight, 
and  as  they  disappear  over  the  celestially  pure  horizon  of  Monte 
Aninata,  they  display  symbols  which  reveal  them  as  Poverty,  Chas- 
tity, and  Obedience.  And  when  last  we  see  them  floating  away 
in  the  pure  ether,  Lady  Poverty  looks  back  lovingly  at  Francis." 

Spiritual  imagination  is  at  work  here,  and  has  taught  the 
painter  how  to  give  that  unearthly  character  to  his  undulating, 
unsubstantial  figures,  which  is  lacking  in  Giotto's  massive  and 
superbly  realized  types,  and  in  the  statuesque  forms  of  Orcagna, 
while  his  faces  have  an  aroma  of  unearthly  ecstasy,  telling  of  a  keen 
realization  of  the  life  from  within.  Nature  speaks  to  Sassetta 
as  it  perhaps  never  did  to  the  Florentines.  To  him  it  means  "  the 
great  cloister  which  his  Lady  Poverty  brought  down  to  her  faithful 
knight;"  his  soaring  skies  uplift  and  dematerialize ;  the  far  pure 
horizons  impress  with  the  same  emotion  that  he  imparts  to  his 
keen  and  thrilling  countenances,  and  assure  us  that  the  Sienese 
were  not  so  much  interested  in  scientific  problems  as  inspired  by 
that  spiritual  passion  which  always  writes  so  legibly. 

Nor  did  Siena  stand  alone,  though  perhaps  she  stood  the 
highest.  To  all  who  love  to  wander  in  Italy,  the  name  of  Umbria 
brings  a  vision  of  wide  spaces,  of  mountains  stretching  away, 
fold  over  fold,  beneath  the  play  of  light  and  shadow.  It  is  a 
country  which  in  its  spirituality  and  its  joyousness  seems  a  fit  setting 
for  that  most  human  and  loveable  of  Saints,  who  has  left  such 
deep  traces  upon  its  life.  The  broad  and  simple  charm  of  Umbrian 
art  is  allied  to  a  deep  strain  of  mysticism.  Among  those  quiet 
hills,  war  and  rapine  did  their  worst;  the  history  of  every  little 
hill  city  is  one  of  carnage  and  revenge;  the  annals  of  every 
famous  house  are  deep-dyed  in  blood;  yet  through  it  all  the  people 
were  adoring  the  memory  of  St.  Francis,  and  listening  fervently 
to  the  preaching  of  St.  Bernardino. 

The  sentiment  of  the  Umbrian  School  is  less  ecstastic  and 
melancholy  than  that  of  the  Sienese,  but  it  is  as  far  removed  from 
the  obvious  science  of  the  Florentines.  It  is  cheerful  and  practical, 


654    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE     [Aug., 

as  St.  Francis  was  cheerful  and  practical,  but  the  bias  of  a  man's 
character  is  shown  in  what  delights  him,  and  as  St.  Francis  de- 
rived light  and  joy  not  through  the  intellectual,  but  the  spiritual 
faculty,  so  the  inhabitants  of  these  hill  cities  asked  their  painters 
for  qualities  of  the  heart  rather  than  of  the  mind,  for  the  grati- 
fication of  that  spiritual  delight  which  the  Renaissance  tried  to 
kill,  but  was  not  able. 

Of  all  the  qualities  that  set  Umbria  sharply  apart  from  those 
who  had  but  assimilated  what  reason  could  give,  there  is  none 
that  indirectly  so  contributes  as  that  marvelous,  that  essentially 
spiritual  quality  of  space  which  the  painters  seem  to  have  drank  in 
from  the  high  skies  and  boundless  expanses  which  surrounded  them. 
We  all  feel  the  effect  of  wide,  extended  country,  or  of  spacious, 
airy  buildings :  they  arouse  an  emotion  which  carries  us  out  of 
ourselves;  they  transport  and  exalt  as  those  things  do  which  build 
up  the  higher  life,  and  those  who  excel  in  presenting  them,  if  not 
necessarily  mystical  or  spiritual  themselves,  are  sufficiently  pene- 
trated by  their  environment  to  yield  themselves  to  its  inspiration. 

Other  evidences  there  are  in  Umbria  that  the  old  fervent 
mediaeval  faith  was  still  strong.  Among  them  is  banner-painting. 
The  Gonfaloniere  or  banner  was  so  important  to  these  cities,  that 
the  municipalities  made  special  grants  to  confraternities  for  its 
acquisition.  These  banners  had  no  connection  with  triumphal 
processions,  but  were  suppliant  banners,  borne  against  the  awful 
visitations  of  the  plague.  They  were  followed  by  hosts  of  terror- 
stricken  survivors,  and  were  inspired  by  and  received  with  that 
glowing  faith  in  spiritual  protection  which  the  humanists 
looked  on  as  an  amiable  weakness.  Many  of  these  little  cities 
still  cherish  the  banner  painted  for  their  cathedral.  The  subject 
is  the  Madonna  of  Mercy  or  the  Patron  Saint,  with  the  distressed 
suppliants  cowering  under  their  outspread  mantle,  and  the  tender- 
ness of  such  pictures,  with  the  centuries  of  association  which  cling 
to  them,  makes  an  impression  not  easily  effaced. 

But  what  effect  could  this  simple  and  almost  primitive  ad- 
herence to  the  old  faith  have  upon  that  alertness,  that  eager  and 
acute  quality  of  Florentine  life,  the  give  and  take  of  wit  and 
thought,  the  play  of  mind  which  pervaded  the  city  on  the  Arno  ?  In- 
tellectualism  seemed  to  be  enthroned  there  beyond  all  attack.  The 
men  who  aspired  to  get  all  out  of  reason  that  reason  could  give, 
were  whole-heartedly  convinced  that  the  old  authorities  were  out- 
worn, and  of  no  account,  and  yet  all  the  time,  with  literature  and 


1913-]     THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    655 

art  apparently  emancipating  themselves,  with  all  that  was  most 
distinguished  in  mind  devoted  to  the  same  end,  another  element 
was  entering  life. 

The  problem  set  before  the  Renaissance  could  not  be  solved 
by  the  mere  study  of  classic  perfection.  The  resources  of  the  in- 
tellect were  all  inadequate.  The  Greeks  had  no  experience  of  the 
whole  inner  life,  the  mental  maladies  created  by  Christianity.  But 
the  Florentine  learning  could  not  keep  such  elements  at  bay.  Dona- 
tello  is  one  of  the  first  Florentine  artists  who  perceives  that  the 
very  soul  of  man,  with  all  its  load  of  new  struggles  and  uncer- 
tainties, must  shine  through  the  marble.  The  influence  of  pagan- 
ism gives  way  to  the  sense  of  the  pathetic  in  mankind,  and  the 
real,  with  all  its  imperfections,  its  human  feeling  and  interest, 
becomes  the  object  of  the  artist. 

With  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  as  the  leader  of  thought,  the  fortress 
of  the  intellect  seems  at  its  most  impregnable,  yet  in  its  very 
stronghold  we  are  aware  of  a  soul  unsatisfied.  Lorenzo's  mysti- 
cism stands  for  the  need  of  a  dimly-apprehended  good.  As  art 
drew  nearer  to  perfection  it  grew  more  dead.  We  may  believe 
that  the  spiritual  note  which  is  so  strong  in  Botticelli  was  not 
more  characteristic  of  what  the  painter  yearned  to  give,  than 
of  what  the  people  asked.  Limited  that  demand  may  have  been, 
but  it  looks  out  on  our  generation  through  the  eyes  of  his  wistful 
Madonnas  and  fervid  saints.  Who  can  look  at  those  wonderful 
countenances  in  the  background  of  Leonardo's  great  unfinished 
monochrome,  "the  Adoration  of  the  Magi"  (Uffizi),  without 
knowing  as  surely  as  we  can  know  anything  that  in  the  Florence 
of  his  day  he  had  encountered  a  strain  of  thought  which  perhaps 
not  everyone  could  hear  ?  "  The  broken  chords  that  marred  the 
tune,"  that  told  of  beings  into  whom  "  the  soil  with  all  its  maladies 
had  been  poured,"  yearning,  asking,  dying  for  the  Light. 

And  at  last,  in  Michelangelo,  the  man  who  in  his  art  carried 
science  to  its  height,  who  from  the  first  was  conversant  with  all 
the  knowledge  and  learning  of  his  day,  the  two  strains  are  recon- 
ciled. Compare  the  Theseus  of  the  Parthenon  with  the  Adam  of 
the  Sistine  Chapel.  They  are  as  far  apart  in  spirit  as  they  are 
alike  in  attitude  and  young,  vigorous  form.  The  one,  throned 
upon  Olympian  heights,  serene,  impassible,  incarnates  the  calm 
assurance  of  Greek  life.  The  other,  trembling,  doubting,  appre- 
hensive, appeals  to  the  omniscient  Being  Who  kindles  the  electric 
spark  of  destiny.  Well  might  Goethe  say,  "  Phidias  created  serene 


656    THE  SPIRITUAL  NOTE  IN  THE  RENAISSANCE    [Aug., 

gods;  Michelanglo,  suffering  heroes."  It  is  the  note  that  runs 
through  all  his  work;  the  mournful  and  piercing  recognition  of 
human  weakness;  the  realization  of  the  spirit  that  has  mastered 
earthly  ambition  and  sapped  its  power.  The  forms  from  his 
brush  and  chisel  strengthen  and  uplift,  preach  a  sterner  purity, 
and  sweep  aside  the  mean  and  trivial,  yet  he  suggests  the  help- 
lessness and  dependence  of  the  soul  in  a  way  that  would  have  been 
entirely  alien  to  the  classic  mind. 

Though  from  time  to  time,  every  faculty  of  the  human  mind 
has  been  exercised  against  Christianity,  it  has  never  ceased  its 
struggle  for  expression.  "  The  genius  of  Christianity,"  says  Mr. 
Osborn  Taylor,*  "  has  achieved  full  mastery  over  the  arts  of 
painting  and  sculpture.  It  has  penetrated  and  transformed  them, 
and  can  utter  the  sentiments  and  emotions  of  the  Christian  souL 
Its  types  differ  from  the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  types,  because 
they  are  the  types  of  times  and  races  into  which  Christianity  has 
poured  the  many  things  which  it  embodies." 

To-day  we  have  long  been  under  the  dominion  of  that  ply  of 
thought  which  modern  Europe  took  from  Florence,  and  the  in- 
tensity with  which  the  mind  is  set  on  intellectual  culture  is  working 
out  to  the  inevitable  result.  It  is  the  intellectual  rather  than  the 
emotional  qualities  which  are  most  manifest  in  modern  achievement, 
and  both  the  merits  and  defects  of  its  works,  their  cleverness  and 
coldness,  are  intellectual  merits  and  defects.  Modern  fiction  bears 
witness  to  the  same  inspiration;  it  shows  careful  analysis,  pains- 
taking vivisection  of  characters  and  motives,  but  not  the  spon- 
taneous vitality  which  arises  from  intuitive  perception,  and  as 
surely  as  in  any  age,  art  being  the  expression  of  life,  we  expect  to 
find,  and  we  do  succeed  in  finding,  the  same  one-sided  development. 
Men  think  and  reason,  but  do  they  feel  deeply? 

But  the  end  is  not  yet.  We  cannot  permanently  reassume 
those  limitations.  We  cannot  confine  "  thoughts  that  wander 
through  eternity,"  or  stem  the  tide  of  feeling  by  the  most  persistent 
devotion  to  the  light  of  reason.  Nor  need  we  regret  it.  Classical 
life  was  a  stranger  to  spiritual  gloom  and  imperfection,  but  it  was 
also  a  stranger  to  peace  and  rapture  of  a  quality  known  only  to 
later  ages,  and  signs  are  not  wanting  that  the  human  mind  is  even 
now  feeling  after  that  mystic  consciousness,  that  philosophy  of 
feeling,  that  spiritual  note  which  alone  assures  a  solution  of  life 
in  which  it  may  rest  and  be  satisfied. 

%  *The    Classic   Heritage   of   the   Middle   Ages. 


WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA. 

BY    RICHARDSON    L.    WRIGHT. 


N  America  you  may  argue  over  religion,  but  you  rarely 
come  to  blows:  in  Siberia  you  may  come  to  blows 
over  religion,  but  you  rarely  argue.  It  was  a  blow, 
not  an  argument,  that  first  aroused  my  interest  in 

the  Mullakons. 

I  was  voyaging  on  an  Amur  River  post  boat  through  the 
hitherlands  of  the  Tsar's  realm  bound  for  Blagowestchensk,  the 
commercial  capital  of  Amurland  which,  among  Far  East  itinerate 
salesmen,  is  known  as  "  The  New  York  of  Siberia."  Four  days 
had  our  little  side-wheel  steamer  been  chugging  along,  always  at 
a  snail's  pace,  for  the  river  was  low  and  the  shoals  shifting  and 
treacherous.  Four  days  had  sounded  in  our  ears  the  palatal  wail 
of  the  Chinese  "  leadsman  "  who  stood  in  the  prow  of  the  boat,  a 
striped  pole  in  his  hand,  calling  out  the  depth :  "  Sem !  Sem- 
polyvini !  "  Seven !  Seven  and  a  half !  Four  days  had  I  eaten 
the  Russian  meals  and  drunk  the  Russian  tea,  and  disputed  on 
Justinian  with  the  Russian  advocate,  and  discussed  Russian  music 
with  his  petite  Russian  wife.  Four  days  had  I  marvelled  at  the 
scenery  and  wealth  of  plant-life  on  the  banks,  and  listened  to  the 
palaver  of  the  couple  of  hundred  immigrants  we  carried  in  our 
stuffy  hold.  One  morning  I  chanced  to  lean  over  the  rear  deck 
rail,  to  watch  the  crew  stack  the  birch  logs  we  had  taken  aboard 
that  morning  at  a  riverside  fuel  reserve. 

They  were  a  motley,  this  crew :  Three  Chinese,  very  dirty  and 
very  happy;  a  sailor  in  full,  though  dilapidated,  uniform;  and  a 
handful  of  Russians  in  red  shirts,  baggy  blue  trousers  and  shape- 
less, knee  boots.  Above  these  men,  on  a  coiled  hawser,  stood 
the  second  mate.  Save  for  a  shabby  chevroned  jacket,  he  wore 
no  uniform  to  indicate  his  rank.  Now  and  again  he  censured  em- 
phatically the  laziness  of  his  crew.  Several  times  he  swore  at 
them.  The  swearing  had  no  effect.  Finally,  in  sheer  desperation, 
he  threatened  the  nearest  sailor.  A  sudden  impact  of  fists  against 
flesh,  an  oath,  a  scuffle,  and  a  lout  in  a  red  shirt  went  sprawling 
across  the  deck.  When  he  had  recovered  his  feet,  he  stood  at  a 
judicious  distance  from  the  officer,  glared  a  moment,  and  then 

VOL.  XCVIL— 42 


658  WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA          [Aug., 

growled  out,  "  Mullakon !  "  A  flush  passed  over  the  mate's  face ; 
but  there  were  no  more  words,  and  the  matter  ended  there.  As 
"  Mullakon "  was  an  insult  foreign  to  my  Russian  vocabulary, 
I  went  in  search  of  my  friend,  the  "  advocat." 

Disillusionment  came  soon.  "  Mullakon,"  he  explained,  was 
not  an  imprecation,  it  was  merely  a  reproach,  much  as  an  angry 
Catholic,  once  on  a  day,  might  have  called  his  enemy  "  Protestant." 
Well,  the  Mullakons  are  more  than  Protestants;  they  boast  the 
additional  distinctive  virtue  of  being  Puritans,  in  fact,  very  rig- 
orous Puritans.  They  are  Protestants  in  that  they  protest  against 
what  they  believe  to  be  the  errors  of  dogma  and  ritual  in  the 
Greek  Orthodox  Church;  Puritans  in  that  their  lives  are  distinctly 
ascetic,  a  contradistinction  to  the  lives  of  the  orthodox  peasantry 
of  Siberia. 

The  Raskolinks  (dissenters),  whose  numbers,  by  the  way, 
for  the  entire  empire,  total  much  over  twenty-five  millions,  fall  into 
two  classes :  the  Popovshchina,  those  who  permit  the  ministrations 
of  priests;  and  the  Bezpopovshchina,  those  who,  repudiating  sacer- 
dotalism, chose  "  elders  "  to  conduct  their  services.  To  the  latter 
belong  the  Mullakons. 

And  of  the  score-old  heretical  sects  in  Russia,  the  Mullakons 
are  by  far  the  most  sane  and  most  commendable.  They  do  not 
run  to  the  unbalanced  vagaries  of  their  closely-related  sect,  the 
Doukoboors,  or  the  hideous  self-immolation  of  the  Philippovsti,  or 
the  loathsome  promiscuousness  of  the  Byeguni,  or  the  avowed 
silence  of  the  Molchalyniki,  or  the  unspeakable  practices  of  the 
Khlistovstchina.  Their  name,  meaning  "  the  milk  drinkers," 
marks  one  of  their  points  of  departure  from  the  orthodox  faith; 
they  drink  milk  on  fast  days  when  such  indulgence  is  forbidden. 
Both  among  themselves  and  to  their  orthodox  countrymen  they 
are  known  as  "  Mullakons,"  though  in  the  latter  instance,  as  was 
shown  by  the  ill-tempered  deckhand  on  the  Blagowestchensk  boat, 
the  name  is  usually  held  a  reproach. 

It  is  peculiar  to  note,  in  this  respect,  how  illogical  are  the 
religious  prejudices  of  the  orthodox  Russian.  He  will  start  a 
pogrom  and  commit  atrocities  on  the  Jews,  but  it  never  will 
occur  to  him  to  voice  even  the  slightest  protest  against  his  Moham- 
medan neighbor,  the  Tartar,  or  to  pillage  the  local  mosque.  He  will 
scorn  and  insult  his  sectarian  fellow-townsman,  but  the  Mongols 
and  Booriats  who  worship  the  spirits  of  mountains  and  old  trees  and 
tumbling  rivers,  he  will  take  to  his  arms.  The  reason  is  not  in- 


1913-]          WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA  659 

explicable.  The  rise  of  heretical  sects  in  Russia  has  invariably 
been  due  not  so  much  to  religious  revolt  as  to  some  political  or 
economic  reaction.  Now  the  Moslem  and  the  Booriat  are  good 
traders,  trusting,  veracious,  and  above  board  in  their  business  trans- 
actions. What  more  could  a  Russian  ask?  Why  should  he  turn 
an  honest  barter  of  fox  pelts  into  a  wrangle  on  apologetics?  But 
the  Jew  and  the  sectarian,  so  many  Russians  assert,  are  covertly 
shrewd,  perfidious,  and  rascally.  Why  shouldn't  the  orthodox  cast 
their  heresy  in  their  teeth? 

As  in  the  case  of  many  other  Russian  sects,  political  reaction 
first  brought  the  Mullakons  to  notice.  In  1765  a  band  of  them,  who 
had  refused  to  bear  arms  and  pay  their  taxes,  was  arrested. 
Thenceforward  they  have  been  an  appreciable  factor  in  Russian 
life,  though  they  refuse  no  longer  to  serve  their  term  in  the  army 
or  contribute  to  the  revenues.  Obscurity  veils  their  origin.  A 
possible  precursor,  Dmitri  Tveratinov,  was  persecuted  in  1714  for 
preaching  Calvinism,  but  the  supposition  is  that  the  beginnings  of 
the  sect  are  to  be  traced  directly  to  the  teachings  of  Luther,  the 
seeds  of  the  Reformation  having  been  brought  to  Russia  by  those 
foreigners  who,  during  the  reign  of  Peter  the  Great,  poured  in 
hosts  across  the  western  frontier.  From  time  to  time,  groups 
of  Mullakons  have  been  persecuted  and  banished.  The  Church  has 
made  efforts  to  bring  them  into  the  fold,  always  without  success. 
Only  recently  the  Holy  Synod  authorized  a  missionary  campaign 
to  the  Mullakons  of  Siberia.  Now  and  again  the  world  hears  of 
them — a  chance  item  of  news  that  strays  over  the  newspaper 
cables;  Tolstoy  acknowledges  his  indebtedness  to  their  teachings; 
but  perhaps  the  oddest  reference,  and  one  which  serves  also  as  an 
excellent  epitome,  was  that  made  by  a  Quaker  writer  in  1818, 
who  spoke  of  the  Mullakons  as  "  the  Pennsylvanians  of  Moscovy." 
To-day  the  Caucasus,  tracts  of  Little  Russia  and  Amurland — to  the 
westward  of  Lake  Baikal  in  Siberia — are  their  habitat.  In  Amur- 
land  where  settle  many  immigrants  from  Little  Russia,  they  con- 
stitute half  the  population. 

Wishing  to  learn  more  about  these  sectants,  I  had  a  chat  with 
the  president  of  the  Blagowestchensk  branch  of  the  Russo- Asiatic 
bank,  and  through  his  kindly  offices  was  able  to  collect  first-hand 
data,  and  eventually  to  visit  a  Mullakon  village. 

The  valley  of  the  Amur,  which  is  one  of  Siberia's  most  fertile 
spots,  is  owned  by  the  Mullakons.  They  have  a  monopoly  of 
the  river  traffic;  a  syndicate  of  their  richest  men  not  only  owning 


660  WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA          [Aug., 

nearly  every  vessel  plying  between  Blagowestchensk,  Khabarovsk, 
Nikolaievsk,  Kharbin,  and  Stretensk,  but  exacting  a  tariff  the  rates 
of  which  are  exorbitant.  Denunciation  of  them  brings  a  prompt 
reprisal  in  the  refusal  to  freight  cargoes,  or  the  alternative — still 
higher  rates.  The  month  preceding  the  freezing  of  the  Amur  and 
Soungari  Rivers,  when  demand  for  transportation  is  greatest,  sees 
even  more  high-handed  ruling.  After  the  ice  is  set,  their  camel 
caravans  pad  the  three  thousand  miles  up  and  down  the  frozen 
Amur.  Besides  thus  controlling  the  traffic  of  Amurland's  one 
avenue  of  communication,  the  Mullakons  own  and  operate  the 
nine  immense  flour  mills  of  Blagowestchensk,  the  iron  foundry, 
and  any  number  of  shops. 

But  if  their  business  acumen  is  unsurpassed,  so  is  their  honesty. 
The  books  of  the  bank  show  that  they  invariably  carry  heavy 
balances.  Among  shopkeepers,  the  Mullakon  is  proverbially  a  good 
payer,  though  he  will  haggle  and  bargain  until  the  wearied  shopman 
is  only  too  glad  to  let  his  articles  go  at  the  lowest  figure. 

To  appreciate  the  Mullakon  village,  and  to  understand  the 
raison  d'etre  of  their  lives,  one  must  first  live  in  a  hamlet  inhabited 
entirely  by  orthodox  peasants.  During  the  summer  and  winter  of 
1911,  I  had  been  vagabondaging  about  Siberia:  traveling  third 
and  fourth-class  on  the  Trans-Siberian  with  the  immigrants,  sledg- 
ing or  riding  in  a  tarantass,  or  on  horseback  across  the  steppes 
of  the  Yeniseisk  and  Tomsk  Governments,  and  staying  in  the  big 
cities,  Tcheliabinsk,  Omsk,  Tomsk,  and  Irkutsk.  Most  of  the  time, 
however,  was  passed  in  hamlets,  some  of  them  on  the  post  road 
where  I  stayed  only  over  night,  or  so  long  as  it  took  to  change 
horses;  others  off  the  general  route  of  communication  where  my 
stay  extended  for  many  days.  In  all,  I  lived  in  a  score  or  more 
of  these  villages,  and  was  in  a  favored  position  to  see  the  Siberian 
peasant  as  he  really  is,  and  to  comprehend  the  genus  loci  of  his 
hamlet. 

The  Siberian  village  is  invariably  ugly  and  squalid.  There  are 
no  avenues  of  shade  trees  or  oaks  and  cedars  in  the  hut  yard.  The 
peasant  sedms  to  have  a  marked  antipathy  for  any  tree  that 
dares  to  spring  up  within  the  confines  of  the  town.  So  soon 
as  it  has  reached  an  appreciable  size,  he  will  hack  it  down.  Evi- 
dencing the  utter  absence  of  communal  pride,  the  streets  and  lanes 
are  in  an  appalling  condition,  quagmires  in  wet  weather  and  deserts 
of  dust  in  dry.  Three  spots  alone  in  the  village  stand  out  for 
their  orderly  condition — the  tractir,  or  dram-shop,  the  church,  and 


1913.]          WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA  661 

the  schoolhouse,  with  its  adjoining  yard  full  of  swings  and  parallel 
bars  and  wooden  horses.  While  the  interior  of  the  houses  show 
a  degree  of  cleanliness,  one  could  hardly  call  them  spotless.  In 
summer  when  only  dust  drifts  in  from  the  road,  they  are  bearable; 
but  in  winter  one  has  to  exercise  exceptional  fortitude  to  tolerate 
even  one  night  indoors,  for  the  outside  temperature  being  fatal 
to  the  live  stock,  the  farmer  will  often  herd  his  whole  barnful  into 
the  one  eating,  sleeping,  washing,  living,  and  dying  room  of  the 
hut,  where  they  are  stalled  with  the  family,  the  pigs,  the  ducks,  and 
the  cat. 

The  dress  of  the  women  and  children  is  slipshod  save  on  Sun- 
days and  holy  days,  when  the  show  of  feminine  finery — varicolored 
shawls,  and  pink  and  pale-blue  bombazine  skirts — is  wonderful  to 
behold. 

But  the  worst  note  of  the  village  life  is  the  laziness  and 
drunkenness  of  the  men.  The  male  population  passes  three  out 
of  the  seven  days  of  the  week  in  hanging  about  a  vodka  tractir. 
In  each  week  comes  at  least  one  saint's  day,  sometimes  two  or 
three.  Half  the  day  previous  is  spent  in  preparations:  the  day 
following,  in  recuperations.  Meantime  the  fields  lie  untended. 
Until  a  few  years  ago  a  fine  and  imprisonment  were  imposed  on 
him  who  labored  on  a  festival  day.  Then,  recognizing  the  evil 
consequences  of  the  statute,  the  Government  revoked  it,  with  the 
result  that  a  man  is  now  free  to  work  as  much  as  he  pleases.  In 
the  villages  in  which  I  lived,  and  they  were  not  the  exception,  the 
men  seem  to  take  little  or  no  advantage  of  the  new  ruling — and 
the  tractirs  thrived. 

Vodka  is  a  universal  medium.  By  the  birth  bed,  at  the  grave- 
side, and  in  all  events  between  those  mortal  extremes,  one  must 
stop  to  take  his  share  of  this  raw  white  whiskey.  Call  on  a  farmer 
to  transact  a  little  business,  and  he  will  produce  the  vodka  bottle, 
and  refuse  to  discuss  roubles  and  kopecks  until  he  has  become  light- 
headed from  drink. 

It  must  not  be  concluded  from  this  unpleasant  picture  that  the 
orthodox  Siberian  peasant  is  wholly  without  his  fine  traits.  In 
fact,  I  found  him  a  fraternal,  passingly  honest  soul  despite  his 
shortcomings.  He  takes  a  bath  once  a  week,  and  a  very  good  bath 
it  is,  too;  he  has  a  fondness  for  house  fairies  and  wood  nymphs; 
he  works  hard  when  he  does  work.  In  sorrow  and  defeat,  he  is 
philosophical.  Fortified  by  a  firm  faith,  he  accepts  the  material 
worries  of  this  life  with  humility.  He  obeys  his  priest,  and  dis- 


662  WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA          [Aug., 

charges  his  church  duties  with  commendable  regularity.  He  loves 
his  children,  and  his  wife  loves  to  have  them;  and  even  in  his  most 
Rabelaisian  cups  he  is  a  God-fearing  bon  vivant. 

When  you  pass  to  a  Mullakon  village,  the  contrast  is  marked, 
indeed.  The  ride  from  Blagowestchensk  to  Gelzeoocha  was  mostly 
uphill,  but  our  shaggy  Siberian  ponies  picked  out  the  trail,  and 
carried  us  without  a  single  mishap  over  craggy  hare  tracks  and 
down  deep  ravines,  until  we  struck  the  bed  of  a  mountain  brook 
that  led  us,  at  late  afternoon,  to  the  outskirts  of  the  village. 
Throughout  the  journey  my  guide  was  puzzled  to  know  why  I 
should  come  to  a  Mullakon  settlement,  when  I  intended  neither  to 
bargain  nor  barter.  "  There  is  nothing  to  see,"  he  commented 
with  a  grunt.  "  You  might  have  stayed  back  in  Blagowestchensk, 
where  there  is  a  park  and  a  cafe  chantant."  But  as  he  failed  to 
grasp  my  explanations,  he  lapsed  into  a  stubborn  silence. 

There  was  just  one  street  to  Gelzeoocha,  one  tree-lined  street, 
and  a  narrow  lane  that  crept  up  the  hillside  to  the  graveyard 
beyond.  The  houses  were  stockaded  as  in  all  Siberian  villages. 
The  absence  of  the  church,  whose  blue  dome  and  gilded  three- 
armed  cross  usually  broods  over  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  gave  the 
village  a  note  of  individuality. 

Hugh  pariah  dogs  rushed  out  from  the  yards  and  snapped  at 
us.  Women's  faces  peered  through  the  windows.  Here  and  there 
a  child  peeped  cautiously  out  the  crack  of  a  door. 

On  the  steps  of  the  third  house  sat  an  ancient  of  days  in 
a  blue  blouse,  who  rose  as  we  reined  in  beside  him.  Yes,  there 
was  a  zemstkaia  kvatura,  he  replied  to  my  question,  but  it  was 
occupied  at  the  time. 

According  to  the  Russian  rule  of  hospitality,  each  village 
which  is  off  the  line  of  travel,  and  consequently  has  no  posthouse 
for  the  accommodation  of  wayfarers,  must  reserve  one  room  where 
the  passerby  can  put  in  for  the  night.  Now  I  had  had  several 
unpleasant  experiences  with  zemstkaia  kvatura,  for  they  are  pre- 
sided over  usually  by  women  whose  traits  are  like  the  traits  of 
our  average  American  boarding-house  mistress — in  fact,  the  genus 
landlady  is  universal — so  the  prospect  of  the  Gelzeoocha  kvatura 
being  full,  did  not  displease  me.  Finally,  it  was  arranged  that 
I  should  sleep  in  the  old  man's  hut,  while  my  guide,  whose  fatigue 
by  this  time  had  overcome  his  prejudice  for  Mullakon  hospitality, 
was  only  too  glad  for  six  feet  of  the  floor  of  the  hut  opposite, 
and  ,a  square  meal. 


1913.]          WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA  663 

Vladimir  Dianlovski's  izbas  (hut)  consisted  of  one  large  room, 
whose  windows  looked  down  the  road,  and  a  smaller  compartment 
that  served  as  kitchen.  There  was  a  row  of  books  on  a  wall 
shelf — the  first  row  of  books  I  had  seen  in  a  Siberian  hut — and 
on  the  window  sills  stood  jars  with  flowering  plants.  As  I  stepped 
across  the  threshold,  I  instinctively  doffed  my  hat,  and  looked 
around  for  the  ikon  corner  to  return  thanks  to  the  Russian  St. 
Christopher,  who  had  led  me  safely  on  the  road.  There  was  no 
ikon  corner! 

"  Why  do  you  look  for  the  ikon?  "  the  old  man  asked,  noticing 
my  surprise.  "  You  are  not  a  Russian."  Then  I  explained  to  him 
that,  while  I  was  an  American  from  New  York  City,  I  had  com- 
plied with  Russian  customs  so  long  as  I  was  in  Siberia. 

"  And  will  you  do  as  we  Mullakons  while  you  are  here  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  If  you  permit  me,"  I  replied. 

The  ice  was  broken,  and  from  that  moment  on  the  old  man 
addressed  me  as  "  little  brother,"  and  I  called  him  Batchuska,  little 
father. 

While  he  was  making  a  place  for  my  bags  on  the  settle  that  was 
to  serve  as  my  bed,  his  wife  and  young  daughter  came  in  and 
were  introduced  to  the  American.  A  moment  later  we  were  joined 
by  a  son,  a  strapping  youth  of  eighteen.  Other  members  of  the 
family,  a  married  son  and  daughter  who  lived  down  the  road 
farther,  were  called  in.  Supper  that  night  was  a  family  reunion. 

Apart  from  the  absence  of  the  ikon  corner  and  the  presence  of 
the  row  of  books  and  the  flowers  on  the  window  sills,  there  was  little 
to  mark  Vladimir's  izbas  from  that  of  any  in  an  orthodox  village. 
It  was  immaculate,  and  evidenced  the  exercise  of  a  certain  amount 
of  taste  in  the  arrangement  of  the  chairs,  the  few  family  photo- 
graphs— for  which  all  Siberians  and  Russians  alike  have  a  marked 
weakness — and  the  rough  deal  table  on  which  was  set  the  samovar 
and  a  bowl-full  of  blue  iris  that  carpet  the  Amurland  fields  in  late 
spring. 

After  the  manner  of  peasant  folk,  the  world  over,  they  wanted 
to  know  all  about  me — who  I  was;  why  I  had  come  to  Siberia; 
was  I  married;  how  many  children  did  I  have;  was  New  York 
really  so  large  a  place ;  aren't  New  Yorkers  afraid  the  tall  buildings 
will  topple  over  on  them — a  million  and  one  questions  that  I 
answered  to  the  ultimate  satisfaction  of  the  family.  Then,  when 
they  had  grown  silent,  I  took  my  turn  at  questions,  and,  lest 


664  WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA         [Aug., 

Vladimir  would  be  wary  of  discussing  his  religion  at  the  start, 
I  commented  on  their  books. 

"What  do  you  read?"  I  asked. 

"  Tolstoy,  Gogol,  and  the  Bible,"  Vladimir  replied.  "  We  also 
have  one  book  of  Dostoievski's,  one  of  Turgeniev,  and  when  we  go 
into  Blagowestchensk  we  get  a  paper."  One  of  the  sons,  who  had 
been  to  Poland  with  the  army,  confided  to  me  that  he  had  read 
Sherlock  Holmes.  I  was  not  surprised,  for  the  "  marvelous " 
detective  is  a  favorite  with  the  Russians. 

Gelzeoocha,  they  told  me,  had  but  thirty  families,  in  all, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  souls,  but  they  boasted  a  Narodnija  Utchilist- 
cha,  a  primary  school  where  the  three  R's  were  taught.  This  was, 
indeed,  quite  the  exception  for  a  town  of  that  size.  The  school- 
master had  taken  a  course  at  the  University  of  Tomsk,  they  added, 
and  when  any  of  the  boys  or  girls  wished  to  go  further  in  their 
education,  he  would  tutor  them  into  the  gymnasium.  Each  of 
Vladimir's  sons  had  attended  the  gymnasium  at  Blagowestchensk, 
residing  while  they  were  there  with  friends.  From  conversation 
they  did  not  prove  above  the  average  of  the  Siberian  youth  for 
intellect,  and  I  suspected  that  had  their  father  not  insisted  on 
continuing  their  studies,  they  would  never  have  risen  above  medi- 
ocrity. However,  their  gymnasium  course  had  not  affected  their 
heads,  for  each  one  had  returned  to  Gelzeoocha  and  taken  up 
farming.  They  seemed  contented.  The  next  day  I  found  at  least 
one  result  of  this  teaching — they  had  learned  intensive  farming, 
and  at  that  time  were  buying  some  American  farming  utensils 
on  the  installment  plan. 

"You  have  relatives  in  Blagowestchensk?"  I  asked,  recalling 
how  these  lads  had  gone  to  live  in  the  city  during  their  course. 

"  No,  they  lived  with  friends,"  responded  Vladimir,  and  then 
he  went  on  to  explain  that  the  Mullakons  were  all  held  together  by 
the  bond  of  brotherhood;  that  they  united  in  business,  giving  each 
other  opportunities  that  they  did  not  offer  to  the  orthodox;  and 
that  one  of  their  first  principles  was  never  to  allow  one  of  their 
sect  to  be  destitute.  Here  I  found  a  parallel  between  the  Mullakons 
and  the  Quakers.  In  fact,  the  strict  regard  for  education  is  also 
one  of  the  marks  of  the  Mullakon.  It  was  later  acknowledged  to  me 
by  a  Russian  official  that  of  all  the  schools  in  Siberia,  those  in  the 
Mullakon  villages  are  the  best.  And  Professor  Tovey,  Dean  of 
the  Tomsk  Technology  Institute,  told  me  that  the  brightest  students 
at  both  the  university  and  the  institute  come  from  Amurland,  where 


1913-]  WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA  665 

they  receive  the  foundation  of  their  education  in  Mullakon 
schools. 

The  conversation  drifted  to  the  army.  I  asked  if  the  boys 
had  served  their  terms.  Both  had. 

"  We  used  not  to  enter  the  army,"  Vladimir  said  with  a  sigh, 
"  but  we  do  now,  though  we  do  not  believe  in  it.  War  is  bad. 
We  love  peace.  But/'  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "  if  my  boys 
did  not  go  into  the  army,  the  officers  would  have  come  along  and 
dragged  them  out  and  put  me  in  jail.  Ivan  has  served  in  Warsaw." 

I  glanced  over  at  Ivan — for  he  it  was  who  had  read  Sherlock 
Holmes,  and  I  felt  that  we  had  a  bond  between  us. 

"  Usually  people  who  refuse  to  serve  in  the  army  refuse  to 
take  an  oath,"  I  remarked.  "  The  Quakers  in  America — " 

"  We  are  just  like  them,"  Vladimir  finished  my  observation. 
"  We  do  not  take  oaths.  Why  should  we  ?  Doesn't  the  Scripture 
say,  ' Swear  not  at  all  ?' ' 

I  was  glad  that  he  had  introduced  the  Scriptures,  for  I  was 
wishing  to  approach  the  subject  of  the  Mullakon  religious  beliefs 
before  the  old  man  grew  tired.  With  that  end  in  view  I  asked  him 
several  questions. 

The  Mullakons  and  Doukoboors,  he  said,  were  once  one  body, 
but  the  latter  fell  into  the  corrupt  habit  of  interpreting  the  Scrip- 
tures mystically,  so  the  Mullakons,  who  favored  the  literal  interpre- 
tation, broke  away.  That  was  many  years  since,  and  the  gulf  be- 
tween the  two  has  grown  so  wide  that  they  have  few  remaining 
parallels.  The  Doukoboors  are  an  erratic,  ungovernable  folk,  while 
the  Mullakons  live  the  lives  of  Quakers,  simple,  peaceful, 
frugal. 

As  he  was  explaining  these  points,  the  little  daughter,  Katrina, 
came  over  and  sat  beside  me  on  the  settle.  She  was  a  pretty  child, 
with  flaxen  hair  and  rosy  cheeks  and  a  quiet  disposition.  All  the 
family,  for  that  matter,  became  peculiarly  silent,  I  noticed,  just  so 
soon  as  Vladimir  began  to  discuss  religious  subjects.  He  was  an 
"elder,"  it  appears,  and  though  he  had  no  sacerdotal  position,  he 
was  held  in  regard  for  his  views. 

"Do  you  have  sacraments?"  I  began  to  question  him  on  de- 
tails, "  Marriage,  Holy  Communion,  Confession,  and  such  ?  " 

Vladimir  shook  his  head.  "  We  have  nothing  that  the  others 
have  save  God.  We  have  no  churches.  A  church  is  not  builded 
of  beams  and  boards,  but  of  ribs."  He  patted  his  heart.  "  We 
have  no  ikons  or  holy  pictures;  we  keep  no  festivals  and  have  no 


666  WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA          [Aug., 

ritual.     We  have  no  pontiff,  nor  teacher  of  the  faith  but  Christ. 
We  are  all  priests.     Our  only  guide  is  the  Bible." 

"  You  believe  in  the  Blessed  Trinity— God  the  Father,  God  the 
Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost?" 

Again  he  shook  his  shaggy  head. 

"  But  what  of  marriage  ?     What  do  you  do  when — " 

"  I  was  going  to  explain  that,"  he  broke  in.  "  When  the 
two  young  people  agree  to  live  together,  they  come  and  get  their 
parents'  blessing.  Dmitri  here  and  Tatiana  both  did  that,"  he  said 
indicating  the  two  married  children. 

"  That  is  a  Quaker  belief,"  I  remarked. 

"  No,  Mullakon ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  then  seeing  that  he  had 
misunderstood  me,  began  to  laugh. 

"  When  we  confess,"  he  continued,  "  we  do  not  confess  to  a 
priest,  but  to  God  and  to  our  fellowmen  whom  we  have  injured." 

"  But  do  you  have  a  Holy  Communion  ?  " 

"  We  break  bread  and  share  it  at  a  service." 

His  last  answer  I  felt  was  curt,  and  to  mask  my  embarrass- 
ment, I  pulled  out  my  cigarette  case  and  proceeded  to  smoke. 
Scarcely  had  I  begun  than  Vladimir  straightened  up  his  position, 
and  I  heard  his  wife  whisper  an  instruction  to  Katrina.  Promptly 
the  little  girl  left  my  side,  entered  the  kitchen,  and  appeared  with 
a  mop  cloth,  with  which  she  wiped  the  floor  about  my  feet. 

"  So  sorry,"  I  apologized.  "  I  didn't  know  that  I  had  tracked 
in  dirt." 

"Not  dirt,  but  the  devil,"  spoke  up  the  wife. 

I  glanced  over  at  her  where  she  sat  scowling  at  me,  and  would 
have  spoken  had  not  the  old  man  interrupted. 

"  He  does  not  understand,"  I  heard  him  whisper  to  her.  Then 
he  turned  to  me.  "  You  see,  little  brother,  we  Mullakons  do  not 
smoke  nor  drink  vodka.  They  defile  men.  They  are  works  of 
the  devil.  But  you  did  not  understand." 

And  thus  I  happened  on  another  Mullakon  custom;  invariably 
when  you  smoke  in  a  Mullakon  house,  the  wife  or  the  daughter 
will  wash  the  floor  where  your  feet  have  rested.  It  drives  away 
the  devil,  they  say. 

But  Vladimir  did  not  permit  my  -faux  pas  to  interrupt  the  con- 
versation. He  told  me  that  the  members  of  his  sect  do  not  eat 
pork  nor  scaleless  fish,  nor  any  of  the  foods  forbidden  in  the  Old 
Testament,  adding  that  many  of  the  sectants  in  Russia  were  joining 
the  Hebrews. 


1913.]          WITH  THE  MULLAKONS  OF  SIBERIA  667 

"  Because  their  beliefs  are  alike — or  because  they  are  against 
the  government?"  I  suggested.  A  smile  crept  over  his  face,  but 
he  did  not  reply.  I  am  led  to  suspect  that  it  was  the  latter.  His 
statement,  I  since  have  found,  is  only  too  true.  Judaism  is  being 
embraced  by  hundreds  of  the  Russian  sectants.  The  reason  is 
purely  political,  however,  for  they  claim  that  the  taxes  are  far  too 
heavy,  and  they  allege  immorality  and  corruption  among  the  priests 
of  the  Greek  Church. 

We  had  been  talking  for  over  an  hour.  As  I  glanced  about  at 
the  faces  of  the  family,  I  noticed  drowsiness  on  them.  Batchuska 
yawned  once,  and  I  consulted  my  watch. 

"  What  is  the  time?  "  he  asked. 

"  Five  minutes  past  eight,"  I  replied. 

"  So  late !  "  He  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  crossing  the  room, 
took  down  from  the  shelves  a  Bible.  Katrina,  without  instruction 
from  her  mother,  brought  a  candle  and  set  it  on  the  table.  Then 
for  five  minutes  the  old  man  read  us  from  the  First  Epistle  of  St. 
John.  Some  prayers  followed,  after  which  the  family  dispersed — 
the  married  children  leaving  for  their  houses  down  the  road,  and 
the  wife  getting  me  blankets  to  soften  the  settle.  Within  five 
minutes  Batchuska  with  the  young  son  by  his  side  and  the  wife 
with  little  Katrina  by  hers,  were  all  fast  asleep  on  the  floor.  A 
foot  above  them  in  the  place  of  honor,  I  lay — wondering  at  the 
queer  things  I  had  seen  and  heard  that  night. 

Eight  o'clock !  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  gone  to  bed  at  eight 
o'clock  for  ages.  In  the  cities,  Russian  midnight  comes  at  four 
A.  M.  You  breakfast  at  ten,  lunch  at  four,  and  dine  at  eleven  or 
twelve.  In  the  ordinary  village,  we  rarely  went  to  bed  until  ten, 
and  rose  never  earlier  than  eight.  But  not  so  the  Mullakons. 
They  go  to  bed  at  eight;  and  five  o'clock  sees  the  entire  household 
up  and  about  the  day's  work. 

As  I  lay  awake  on  my  settle  I  tried  to  formulate  a  definition 
of  the  Mullakons.  It  finally  resolved  itself  into  this:  they  live 
the  lives  of  Quakers  and  hold  the  belief  of  Unitarians.  Here  they 
have  fought,  as  did  the  early  settlers  of  America,  with  rugged  nature 
until  the  fields  have  given  their  increase.  Here  they  have  builded 
their  schools,  and  trained  their  children  to  read,  mark,  and  learn. 
A  simple,  stern,  loving  folk,  they  are  setting  up  a  bulwark  of  the 
Russian  kingdom  that  will  be  more  impregnable  than  the  iron-stone 
defences  of  Vladivostok,  a  Pennsylvania  in  the  New  Moscovy. 


MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY.* 

BY   KATHARINE   TYNAN. 

OT  so  long  ago  Sir  W.  Robertson  Nicoll,  LL.D.,  in 
the  British  Weekly,  the  leading  organ  of  British  Non- 
conformity, asked  how  it  was  that  the  best  religious 
poetry  of  the  day  was  being  produced  by  Catholics, 
especially  by  Catholic  women.  He  instanced  Mrs. 
Meynell,  Miss  Louise  Imogen  Guiney,  and  a  person  who  shall  be 
nameless,  who  had  contributed  to  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  a  poem, 
Planting  Bulbs,  which  was  the  occasion  of  his  remarks.  Sir  W.  Rob- 
ertson Nicoll  is  a  true  lover  of  poetry,  and  brings  to  it  a  genuine 
touchstone  for  deciding  what  is  or  is  not  poetry:  and  how  many 
critics  are  led  away  by  "  fake  "  in  poetry  nowadays !  After  all 
it  takes  a  poet  to  criticize  poetry :  and  that  critics  prove  to  be  blind 
guides  in  our  day  is  only  in  keeping  with  their  traditions.  You 
have  but  to  turn  up  a  publisher's  advertisement  of  the  seventies 
and  eighties  to  see  the  fine  raptures  of  the  critics  over  Lewis  Morris 
and  Sir  Edwin  Arnold  in  those  days.  The  critic  who  leads  the 
public  into  a  ditch,  is  no  worse  than  his  brother  of  yesterday 
and  his  brother  of  the  day  before. 

One  has  but  to  read  the  British  Weekly  to  discover  that  the 
editor  has  a  real  flair  for  poetry,  as  well  as  a  capacity  for  spirit- 
ual things  which  lifts  him  out  of  the  troubled  atmosphere  of  the 
controversialist. 

He  asked  "  Why?  "  in  that  pronouncement  of  his,  and  no  one 
answered  him.  Of  the  three  women  poets  he  mentioned,  one  was 
English,  one  was  Irish,  one  was  Irish-American. 

I  think  I  could  give  reasons  why  Mrs.  Meynell's  poetry 
should  flourish  in  the  soil  of  English  Catholicism,  which  at  its 
best  belongs  to  the  highest  order  of  spiritual  beauty.  Catholicity 
in  England,  apart  from  the  Irish  immigrants,  takes  its  color  from 
the  days  of  its  persecution.  It  is  a  cloistered  thing. 

Mrs.  Meynell  is  an  English  Catholic,  but  not  a  Catholic  born : 
and  there  were  other  influences  as  well  in  her  spiritual  making. 


^Collected  Poems.     By   Alice   Meynell.     New  York :     Charles   Scribner's   Sons. 
$1.50   net.     London:     Burns   &   Gates. 


1913-]  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  669 

She  grew  up  in  Italy;  and  she  was  received  into  the  Church  by 
an  Irish  priest. 

She  looks  the  English  Catholic  lady  to  the  life.  I  have  met 
some  such — daughters  of  the  old  English  Catholic  aristocracy  who 
for  centuries  were  hidden  in  their  beautiful  homes  when  they 
were  not  persecuted.  Many  of  those  English  Catholic  houses  pos- 
sess a  relic  of  some  martyr  of  the  blood — a  hand  chopped  off 
at  Tyburn  Tree  that  had  consecrated  the  Bread  and  Wine,  a  rOsary 
beads,  a  lock  of  hair,  a  handkerchief  steeped  in  the  blood  of 
martyrdom.  In  those  houses  you  feel  the  influence  of 
the  relic  before  you  cross  the  threshold.  Something  spirit- 
ual, austere,  mysterious,  comes  out  to  meet  you.  There  will 
be  a  chapel,  very  often  a  priest's  hiding  hole;  or  one  or  two 
or  three,  as  there  are  in  an  ancient  house  I  know  which  possesses 
Catherine  of  Aragon's  traveling  trunk  and  a  quilt  she  made 
with  her  ladies,  as  well  as  Mary  Stuart's  rosary  beads  and  a  lock 
of  her  hair.  Voices  are  low  and  sweet  in  those  houses;  the  feet 
tread  softly  along  the  carpeted  corridor,  and  a  lamp  stands  at  the  far 
end  which  leads  to  the  chapel.  A  loud  voice  or  laugh,  a  noisy 
tread,  violence  of  any  kind,  were  out  of  place  in  this  air  of  a  con- 
ventual peace. 

The  young  women  and  girls  are  apt  to  be  flower-like,  lily- 
like,  something  of  the  young  angel  about  them.  It  is  an  exotic 
beauty,  a  beauty  of  the  spirit,  which  may  make  an  otherwise  plain 
face  beautiful.  They  have  a  height,  a  slenderness,  a  gliding  grace. 
There  is  something  lovely  about  them,  a  beauty  other-worldly,  not 
of  this. 

I  have  said  they  have  a  height.  Well  perhaps  some- 
times they  only  simulate  height.  Mrs.  Meynell  is  scarcely 
tall,  but  she  had  been  my  friend  for  many  happy  years  before  I 
discovered  we  were  of  a  height.  Sargent  sketched  her  tall,  and 
he  is  a  painter  of  the  mind  rather  than  of  the  body.  Tall  and 
slender,  with  trailing  garments,  a  thrilling,  beautifully  modulated 
voice,  eyes  like  somewhat  mournful  stars,  a  curious  likeness  to 
Dante,  with  feminine  softness  and  beauty  added  to  the  stern  and 
lonely  grandeur — that  is  Mrs.  Meynell  as  nearly  as  I  can  get  to  it. 
!<  Windows  of  the  soul  "  was  never  more  fittingly  applied  to  eyes 
than  to  hers.  Once  in  a  London  suburban  garden,  while  she 
stood  and  watched  the  flight  of  a  bird  across  the  sky,  I  saw  her 
soul.  The  body  disguises  the  soul  in  too  many  of  us.  In  Mrs. 
Meynell  the  body  expresses  the  soul,  as  Francis  Thompson 


670  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  [Aug., 

has  said  it  in  some  of  the  noblest  praises  ever  lavished  upon  a 
woman. 

How  should  I  gauge  what  beauty  is  her  dole, 

Who  cannot  see  her  countenance  for  her  soul; 

As  birds  see  not  the  casement  for  the  sky? 

And  as  'tis  check  they  prove  its  presence  by, 

I  know  not  of  her  body  till  I  find 

My  flight  debarred  the  Heaven  of  her  mind. 

Hers  is  the  face  whence  all  should  copied  be, 

Did  God  make  replicas  of  such  as  she. 

More  than  any  other  poet  I  have  ever  seen,  does  Mrs.  Meynell 
look  her  poetry.  She  not  only  looks  a  Muse,  even  to  the  eyes  of 
the  dull  and  common,  she  looks  her  own  Muse. 

She  has  carried  her  claustral  air  and  her  face, 

Careful  for  a  whole  world  of  sin  and  pain, 

through  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  she  has  never  been  of  the  world, 
never  been  lightly  touched  by  it.  As  one  meets  her  at  a  London 
rout,  she  might  have  walked  out  of  an  Italian  cloister. 

It  was  somewhere  towards  the  close  of  the  seventies  that 
Father  Matthew  Russell,  of  holy  and  happy  memory,  received  a 
letter  from  Lady  Georgiana  Fullerton,  in  which  prayers  were  asked 
for  two  young  Catholic  girls  in  danger  to  their  souls  from  the 
world  and  its  praises.  The  two  girls  were  Elizabeth  Thompson 
(Lady  Butler),  whose  picture,  "  The  Roll  Call,"  hung  in  the  Royal 
Academy  Exhibition  of  1877,  nad  already  met  with  a  unique  success, 
and  Alice  Thompson  who  had  published  Preludes,  a  slender  young 
volume  which  the  elect  of  the  world  had  been  quick  to  recognize 
as  a  thing  with  the  authentic  air:  and  the  latter  success,  conceiv- 
ably, might  be  a  greater  danger  than  the  hurly-burly  of  a  huge 
popular  success.  The  two  young  sisters  were  lionized.  When 
they  attended  a  London  party,  crowds  gathered  before  the  house 
on  the  rumor  of  the  presence  within  of  the  painter  of  "  The  Roll 
Call,"  and  the  young  celebrity  had  to  be  smuggled  out  by  the 
back  door. 

I  have  seen  a  picture  of  the  young  poet  of  those  days, 

A  young  probationer 
And  candidate  of  Heaven, 

as  Dryden  says  of  Mrs.  Killigrew. 

Long  afterwards  Alice  Meynell,  smiling  over  the  memory  of 
Lady  Georgiana  Fullerton's  concern — she  was  a  dowdy  little  wo- 


1913.]  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  671 

man,  a  daughter  of  the  proud  Granvilles,  who  went  ungloved  on  her 
Master's  business  up  and  down  London  in  those  years — said :  "  We 
were  too  level-headed  for  that  danger." 

Their  upbringing  had  indeed  been  one  to  prepare  them  and 
arm  them  against  the  temptations  of  the  market-place.  Their 
parents  were  people  of  great  distinction  of  mind  and  character. 
The  father  was  one  of  those  men  who  from  their  seclusion  influence 
the  mind  and  thought  of  their  time.  Possessing  enough  money1  to 
spend  a  leisured  life,  he  chose  to  spend  it  in  Italy.  He  did 
indeed  make  one  or  two  attempts  to  enter  Parliament:  but  one 
may  well  believe  that  he  was  pushed  on  from  behind — for  his 
friends  were  of  the  great  and  the  greatly-placed — and  that  he 
returned  to  his  hermitage  well  content  with  his  defeats.  His  work 
in  life  was  to  educate  his  daughters.  "  A  Remembrance  "  in  Mrs. 
Meynell's  Rhythm  of  Life  keeps  him  for  us,  and  is  doubly  felt 
because  so  much  of  what  she  has  written  of  her  father  might, 
with  slight  modifications,  have  been  written  of  herself. 

When  the  memories  of  two  or  three  persons  now  upon  earth 
shall  be  rolled  up  and  sealed  with  their  records  within  them, 
there  will  be  no  remembrance  left  open,  except  this,  of  a  man 
whose  silence  seems  better  worth  interpreting  than  the  speech 
of  many  another.  Of  himself  he  has  left  no  vestiges.  It  was 
a  common  reproach  against  him  that  he  never  acknowledged  the 
obligation  to  any  kind  of  restlessness.  The  kingdom  of  heaven 
suffereth  violence,  but  as  he  did  none  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  should  yield  to  his  leisure. 
The  delicate,  the  abstinent,  the  reticent  graces  were  his  in 
the  heroic  degree.  Where  shall  I  find  a  pen  fastidious  enough 
to  define  and  limit  and  enforce  so  many  significant  negatives? 
Words  seem  to  offend  by  too  much  assertion,  and  to  check  the 
suggestions  of  his  reserve.  That  reserve  was  life-long.  Lov- 
ing literature,  he  never  lifted  a  pen  except  to  write  a  letter. 
He  was  not  inarticulate,  he  was  only  silent.  He  had  an 
exquisite  style  from  which  to  refrain.  The  things  he  ab- 
stained from  were  all  exquisite.  They  were  brought  from  afar 
to  undergo  his  judgment,  if  haply  he  might  have  selected  them. 
Things  ignoble  never  approached  near  enough  for  his  refusal; 
they  had  not  with  him  so  much  as  that  negative  connection. 
If  I  had  to  equip  an  author,  I  should  ask  no  better  than  to  arm 
him  and  invest  him  with  precisely  the  riches  that  were  re- 
nounced by  the  man  whose  intellect,  by  integrity,  had  become 
a  presence-chamber. 


672  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  [Aug., 

In  this  noble  "  Remembrance  "  she  goes  on  to  tell  what  manner 
of  training  she  had  at  this  father's  hands,  and  that  makes  the 
essay  a  notable  bit  of  literary  deviation.  We  recognize  her  fount, 
her  origin. 

Memnonian  lips 
Smitten  with  singing  from  thy  mother's  East, 

says  Francis  Thompson  again. 

One  can  imagine  that  she  brought  the  writing  of  Preludes 
to  the  bar  of  her  father's  opinion.  I  do  not  know  if  they  were 
written  in  his  lifetime,  but  they  were  shaped,  perfected,  winnowed, 
rejected,  perhaps,  by  a  most  fastidious  taste.  Never  was  there 
a  young  book  with  so  little  of  immaturity.  Preludes,  with  very 
few  alterations  or  rejections,  take  their  place  fittingly  with  the 
forty-one  other  poems  which  make  up  the  sheaf  of  Mrs.  Mey- 
nell's  years  of  marriage,  of  motherhood,  of  friendship,  of  love, 
of  spring  and  harvest. 

Mrs.  Meynell's  mother  I  remember.  She  died  some  time  in 
the  first  decade  of  the  twentieth  century.  I  was  under  one  roof 
with  her  in  1889,  when  I  spent  a  beautiful  summer  in  England, 
much  of  it  with  the  dear  and  gracious  Meynells,  or  country-house 
visiting  in  their  company.  Mrs.  Thompson  .was  an  accomplished 
and  exquisite  musician.  Those  sisters,  like  their  mother,  are  vo- 
taries of  all  the  arts.  Music  strays  through  Mrs.  Meynell's 
poetry,  unseen  but  heard.  It  was  the  morning  of  the  day  of  a 
musical  party.  Mrs.  Thompson  is  at  the  piano.  The  cool  dim 
rooms  are  full  of  the  feeling  of  June  in  the  London  streets.  June 
yet  green,  not  yet  dusty.  There  is  a  distant  low  roll  of  traffic: 
not  yet  have  motors  made  the  earth  a  place  of  screaming.  The 
blinds  are  drawn  against  the  sunshine  without.  The  room  is  aus- 
tere— very  little  furniture  but  many  flowers  in  all  manner  of  re- 
ceptacles. Mrs.  Thompson  is  improvising  at  the  piano  with  an 
enraptured  face.  "  Come  here,  Alice,  come !  "  she  calls  quickly 
as  a  foot  passes  the  door,  on  the  uncarpeted  stone  staircase.  "  Lis- 
ten to  the  songs  of  the  birds.  I  have  found  out  where  they  learnt 
them.  They  were  taught  by  an  angel.  Their  songs  come  straight 
from  Heaven." 

There  is  a  curious  feeling  of  Italy  about  my  memory  of  that 
big  London  house  on  a  June  morning  twenty-four  years  ago. 

Mrs.  Thompson  had  many  adorers  in  her  day.  Her  husband's 
friends  set  her  on  some  such  pinnacle — with  a  difference — as  her 


1913.]  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  673 

daughter  was  to  be  set  by  Francis  Thompson,  by  Coventry  Patmore, 
by  George  Meredith,  by  a  whole  crowd  of  lesser  people  who  could 
appreciate  beauty  when  they  found  it.  The  correspondence  be- 
tween Dickens  and  Mrs.  Thompson  has  been  published.  He  was 
romantically  attracted  by  the  lady  who  was  to  marry  one  of  his 
dearest  friends.  Quaintly  enough  one  of  his  characters  most  un- 
expectedly bears  her  name — Weller. 

Soon  after  her  success  with  Preludes,  Mrs.  Meynell  married  a 
young  literary  man,  Wilfred  Meynell,  who  had  fallen  in  love  with 
the  author  of  My  Heart  Shall  Be  Thy  Garden.  They  started  out 
very  happily  on  a  career  of  letters.  They  lived  in  those  early 
days  close  to  the  Pro-Cathedral  at  Kensington,  where,  every  morn- 
ing, they  heard  Mass  before  beginning  the  labors  of  the  day.  Mr. 
Meynell  was  at  that  time  a  recent  convert. 

I  first  visited  the  Meynells  in  1884.  It  was  my  first  visit 
to  London,  and  it  was  almost  my  first  touch  with  literature.  I 
remember  the  drawing-room  at  21  Phillimore  Place,  with  its  aus- 
tere simple  furnishing.  Mrs.  Meynell  was  delicate,  and  lay  much 
of  her  time  on  a  sofa.  I  stayed  in  London  that  year  for  some  three 
months  or  so,  with  occasional  excursions  into  the  country,  and 
from  the  time  of  that  visit  our  friendship  was  an  established  thing. 
We  wrote  frequently  to  each  other,  and  I  constantly  sent  flowers 
from  fields,  which  are  in  my  memory  now  like  Elysian  Fields. 
I  have  all  the  letters  of  those  days. 

But  it  is  too  much  of  myself,  and  I  must  get  on  to  Mrs.  Mey- 
nell's  Collected  Poems,  which  have  just  been  issued  by  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons  of  New  York,  and  Burns  and  Gates  of  London. 
Until  the  year  1893  Preludes  was  Mrs.  Meynell's  sole  achievement. 
But  in  that  year  she  had  begun  to  write  her  exquisite  prose  for 
the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  under  the  distinguished  editorship  of  Mr. 
Henry  Cust.  There  were  then  two  editors  in  London  whose  praise 
one  was  greedy  to  catch — Henry  Cust  and  W.  E.  Henley.  Mrs. 
Meynell  pleased  both,  and  her  beautiful  prose  became  a  feature  of 
the  Friday  issue  of  the  Pall  Mall.  Most  of  her  beautiful  new 
things  appeared  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette.  There  was 

She  walks — the  lady  of  my  delight — 
A  shepherdess  of  sheep, 

and  The  Lady  Poverty  and  November  Blue  and  A  Dead  Harvest. 
I  was  at  the  making  of  At  Night,  and  I  have  the  first  rough 
draft  of  it.     She  used  to  make  her  poems  and  prose,  having  come 
VOL.  xcvii.— 43 


674  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  [Aug., 

in  from  shopping  or  afternoon  visiting,  comfortlessly,  I  thought, 
with  her  outdoor  things  still  on,  seated  on  a  hard  chair,  the  children 
playing  about  her  feet  perhaps,  two  or  three  intimate  visitors 
talking  about  the  fire,  occasionally  including  her  in  the  conversation. 
She  would  come  back  as  from  a  long  distance :  but  she  would  come 
back,  and  be  interested,  before  losing  herself  again. 

No  wonder  her  poetry  had  always  preached  a  doctrine  of 
abnegation.  And  yet  austerity  has  always  been  so  native  to  her, 
that  abnegation  can  hardly  have  been  a  positive  thing.  There 
was  always  something  of  the  Lady  Poverty  of  St.  Francis  about 
her.  It  came  natural  to  her  to  do  without  so  that  other  people 
might  have.  She  did  without  leisure  so  that  other  people  might 
have  share  of  her  leisure.  She  suffered  fools  gladly,  to  use  the 
Scriptural  phrase.  I  think  her  intellect  might  have  been  arrogant 
because  of  fastidiousness,  if  grace  had  not  made  her  humble.  The 
bores  she  endured!  The  dullards  whose  work  she  made  pass  by 
her  emendations!  The  open  hand  of  hospitality!  The  real  spirit 
of  austerity  which  made  her  turn  away  from  the  comfortable  and 
soft  things  women  far  more  robust  than  she  seek  after!  There 
were  moments  when  one  of  those  who  loved  her  ached  to  give 
her  the  luxuries  she  would  have  put  away  if  they  had  been  offered 
to  her.  Withal — happily  one  need  not  write  in  a  past  tense — 
she  is  very  human,  simple,  and  tolerant;  much  of  the  child  about 
her;  she  has  a  ringing  laughter  which  it  is  lovely  to  capture;  she 
has  a  wide  tolerance,  of  everything  except  what  she  herself  would 
call  the  cheap  and  the  trivial.  There  is  always  the  child  in 
her  eyes — something  of  the  lost  child — so  that  I  cannot  look  at  her 
without  recalling  Wordsworth's 

Blank  misgivings  of  a  creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized. 

Of  all  things  from  which  she  has  refrained,  her  own  poetry  is 
the  most  beautiful.  Preludes,  the  precious  early  volume,  bulks  large 
in  the  Collected  Poems.  Not  very  much  of  it  has  been  rejected. 
I  would  have  rejected  nothing.  Always  I  miss  the  few  exclu- 
sions. There  is  A  Study,  the  long  obliquely  narrative  poem,  which, 
since  I  first  knew  Preludes,  I  have  known  so  well  that  it  seems  to 
have  become  part  of  me.  I  find  its  thoughts  appearing  in  my  own 
poems  and  stories  many  a  time. 

Qthers  of  the  poems  have  long  been  in  my  memory.     I  think  I 


1913.]  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  675 

know  a  great  portion  of  Preludes  by  -heart.  Long  ago  a  girl  used 
to  walk  the  Irish  country  roads  chanting  to  herself: 

The  leaves  are  many  under  my  feet 

And  drift  one  way, 
or 

As  the  inhastening  tide  doth  roll 

till  the  amazed  face  of  some  little  cattle-herd  sitting  in  the  green 
grass  of  the  roadside  made  her  recognize  that  her  neighbors  thought 
her  mad. 

So  dear  were  those  poems  that  the  slight  emendations  of 
later  years  cause  me  positive  grief. 

I  have  said  that  no  poet  I  know  looks  his  poetry  as  Mrs. 
Meynell  does.  I  would  go  further,  and  say  that  no  poet  comes 
face  to  face  with  us  in  his  poetry  as  she  does.  The  bitter  sweet- 
ness, the  proud  humility,  "  ah !  heavenly  Incognite,"  are  in  such 
a  few  pregnant  lines  as 

"You  never  attained  to  Him."    "If  to  attain 

Be  to  abide:    then  that  may  be." 
Endless  the  way  followed  with  how  much  pain. 

"  The  Way  was  He." 

And  again  this  is  her  very  self. 

THE   FUGITIVE. 
"Nous  avons  chasse  ce  Jesus-Christ." — French  Publicist. 

Yes,  from  the  ingrate  heart,  the  street 
Of  garrulous  tongue,  the  warm  retreat 

Within   the   village   and   the   town; 

Not  from  the  lands  where  ripen  brown 
A  thousand  thousand  hills  of  wheat; 

Not   from  the  long  Burgundian   line, 

The  Southward,  sunward  range  of  vine. 
Hunted,  He  never  will  escape 
The   flesh,   the  blood,   the   sheaf,   the  grape, 

That  feed  His  man — the  bread,  the  wine. 

I  am  sure  that  this  most  worthy  of  poets  has  never  written 
a  line  or  phrase  of  poetry  without  a  white  heat  of  thought,  that 


676  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  [Aug., 

sought  for  the  finest  expression  in  the  briefest  manner  possible. 
She  has  no  prettinesses.  White  heat  is  perhaps  the  right  word 
for  an  intensity  of  feeling  which  takes  a  shape  as  fine  as  a  Greek 
marble.  She  extracts  from  words,  that  cunning  instrument  by 
which  man  reveals  his  heart,  their  uttermost  significance:  she  in- 
vests them  with  a  new  meaning,  a  new  dignity.  Her  thoughts 
have  a  flight,  a  direct  poignancy,  which  at  times  takes  the  breath 
away  as  in  this. 

VENI    CREATOR. 

So  humble  things  Thou  hast  borne  for  us,  O  God, 
Left'st  Thou  a  path  of   lowliness  untrod? 
Yes,  one,  till  now;  another  Olive-Garden. 
For  we  endure  the  tender  pain  of  pardon, — 
One  with  another  we  forbear.     Give  heed, 
Look  at  the  mournful  world  Thou  hast  decreed. 
The  time  has  come.    At  last  we  hapless  men 
Know  all  our  haplessness  all  through.     Come,  then, 
Endure  undreamed  humility :  Lord  of  Heaven, 
Come  to  our  ignorant  hearts  and  be  forgiven. 

And  here  again  is  the  bitter  cry  of  a  heart  intolerably  wrung. 

PARENTAGE. 

"  When  Augustus  Casar  legislated  against  the  unmarried  citizens 
of  Rome,  he  declared  them  to  be,  in  some  sort,  slayers  of  the  people." 

Ah  no,  not  these! 

These,  who  were  childless,  are  not  they  who  gave 
So  many  dead  unto  the  journeying  wave, 
The  helpless  nurselings  of  the  cradling  seas; 
Not  they  who  doomed  by  infallible  decrees 
Unnumbered  man  to  the  innumerable  grave. 

But  those  who  slay 

Are  fathers.     Theirs  are  armies.     Death  is  theirs ; 
The  death  of  innocences  and  despairs; 
The  dying  of  the  golden  and  the  grey. 
The  sentence,  when  these  speak  it,  has  no  Nay. 
And  she  who  slays  is  she  who  bears,  who  bears. 

"  I,  child  of  process,"  she  says  once  of  herself.  Well,  through 
processes  and  progressions,  she,  who  began  by  a  perfect  young 
book,  has  gone  on  to  her  greatest  heights.  What  heights  may  be 


1913.]  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  677 

beyond  we  know  not :  but  one  feels  that  the  flowering  time  of  her 
genius  has  given  place  to  so  noble  a  fruitage  in  those  later  poems, 
that  she  need  write  no  more  to  be  on  the  heights. 

She  hath  a  glory   from  that  sun 
Who  falls  not  from  Olympus  hill. 

The  volume  of  her  Collected  Poems  contains  altogether  forty- 
one  poems  later  than  Preludes.  She  has  not  written  two  poems 
in  a  year  since  Preludes  gave  her  an  assured  place.  "  The  things 
she  abstained  from" — well,  who  knows  what  she  abstained  from? 
Or  how  much  her  poems  have  gained  by  abstention,  by  self-denial  ? 
She  is  on  the  very  heights  with  these  later  poems.  Beautiful  as 
was  Preludes,  and  the  poems  which  came  one  by  one  after  Pre- 
ludes, there  has  been  nothing  to  reach  the  heights  of  To  the  Body, 
The  Two  Poets,  and  the  latest  of  her  poems.  With  her  it  has  been 
always  that  the  best  was  yet  to  be.  She  has  kept  the  finest  vintage 
for  the  last. 

TO    THE    BODY. 

Thou  inmost,  ultimate 
Council  of  judgment,  palace  of  decrees, 
Where  the  high  senses  hold  their  spiritual  state, 

Sued  by  earth's  embassies, 
And  sign,  approve,  accept,  conceive,  create; 

Create — thy  senses  close 

With  the  world's  pleas.     The  random  odors  reach 
Their  sweetness  in  the  place  of  thy  repose, 

Upon  thy  tongue  the  peach, 
And  in  thy  nostrils  breathes  the  breathing  rose. 

To  thee,   secluded  one, 

The   dark  vibrations   of   the  sightless   skies, 
The  lovely  inexplicit  colors  run; 

The  light  gfopes  for  those  eyes. 
O  thou  august !  thou  dost  command  the  sun. 

Music,  all  dumb,  hath  trod 
Into  thine  ear  her  one  effectual  way; 
And  fire  and  cold  approach  to  gain  thy  nod, 

Where  thou  call'st  up  the  day, 
Where  thou  awaitest  the  appeal  of  God. 


678  MRS.  MEYNELL  AND  HER  POETRY  [Aug., 

Someone  said  to  me  not  long  since  that  poetry  was  for  the 
young — a  vain  saying.  The  poetry  that  departs  with  youth  has 
the  seed  of  mortality  in  it  before  it  is  born.  Through  processes  of 
waiting,  of  silences,  of  lofty  abstentions,  this  Muse  has  reached  its 
heights.  She  is  worthy  of  the  noble  praises  she  has  received,  and 
the  noble  friendships  that  have  sought  her  as  an  equal.  Listen  to 
the  lofty  music  in  this  of  the  wind  in  the  beech  tree: 

THE  TWO  POETS. 

Whose  is  the  speech 

That  moves  the  voices  of  this  lonely  beech? 
Out  of  the  long  west  did  this  wild  wind  come — 
O  strong  and  silent !     And  the  tree  was  dumb, 

Ready  and  dumb,  until 
The  dumb  gale  struck  it  on  the  darkened  hill. 

Two  memories, 

Two  powers,  two  promises,  two  silences 
Closed  in  this  cry,  closed  in  these  thousand  leaves 
Articulate.    This  sudden  hour  retrieves 

The  purpose  of   the  past, 
Separate,  apart — embraced,  embraced  at  last. 

"  Whose  is  the  word  ? 

Is  it  I  that  spake  ?     Is  it  thou  ?     Is  it  I  that  heard  ?  " 
"  Thine  earth  was  solitary,  yet  I  found  thee !  " 
"  Thy  sky  was  pathless,  but  I  caught,  I  bound  thee, 

Thou  visitant  divine." 
"  O  thou  my  Voice,  the  word  was  thine."     "  Was  thine." 

These  are  not  her  finest  fruit,  though  they  are  of  her  finest 
fruit.  I  would  quote  The  Launch,  The  Modern  Mother,  Tzvo 
Boyhoods,  The  Crucifixion,  The  Unexpected  Peril,  Christ  in  the 
Universe,  and  any  one  of  them  would  prove  her  of  the  heights. 
I  would  say  of  her,  borrowing  a  fancy  from  herself,  that  from  her 
rejections,  her  abstentions,  from  what  she  has  spared  to  Say,  many 
poets  might  have  found  a  noble  equipment. 


Boohs. 

THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  PAUL  JONES.     By  Mrs. 

Reginald  de  Koven.     2  Vols.     New  York :  Charles  Scribner's 

Sons.     $5.00  per  set. 

These  two  handsome  volumes,  enriched  by  well-executed  il- 
lustrations, contain  most  of  the  important  letters  of  John  Paul 
Jones  gathered  by  Mrs.  de  Koven  from  many  sources,  chiefly, 
however,  from  the  Jones  papers  and  the  Papers  of  the  Conti- 
nental Congress  in  the  Library  of  Congress.  She  has  carried 
them  into  a  narrative  life  of  Jones,  but  they  are  the  valuable 
part  of  the  work.  She  has,  however,  given  much  independent 
investigation  to  her  subject,  with  good  results  on  certain  phases 
of  Jones'  career.  The  work  is  interesting,  and  it  must  stand 
as  the  best  of  the  several  lives  of  Jones.  This  is  not  to  say, 
however,  that  it  is  a  good  biography,  for  the  author's  limitations 
of  ability  for  her  task  have  not  permitted  her  to  write  a  good 
biography.  She  is  not  a  naval  expert;  she  is  not  a  ripe  historical 
scholar;  she  does  not  weigh  evidence  judiciously;  she  does  not 
manifest  keen  insight  into  character.  One  finishes  the  book  without 
a  clear  idea  of  Jones  the  naval  officer,  or  of  Jones  the  man,  or  of 
the  naval  history  of  the  Revolution,  except  as  one  may  have  derived 
such  knowledge  from  Jones'  letters. 

Was  Jones  a  great  naval  commander  ?  Mrs.  de  Koven  is 
positive  that  he  was;  but  one  desperate  battle  and  hard  won 
victory,  that  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  over  the  Serapis,  is 
not  enough  to  convince  the  layman  that  he  proved  his  preeminence. 
His  other  victories  were  not  important;  or,  if  they  were,  Mrs. 
de  Koven  has  not  made  them  appear  so.  It  is  her  own  fault  if 
the  reader  does  not  share  her  opinion  of  Jones.  As  for  the  con- 
troversies with  the  Continental  Congress,  with  jealous  captains, 
unappreciative  French  authorities,  and  false  Russian  officials,  Jones' 
letters  are  too  full  of  them;  neither  does  the  narrative  spare  the 
reader.  We  should  like  to  see  them  brushed  aside,  and  the  man's 
work  and  worth  estimated  independently  of  them. 

Who  was  Jones?  Ostensibly,  the  son  of  John  Paul,  a  Scotch 
gardener.  But  Thomas  Chase,  a  Massachusetts  sailor  and  pri- 
vateersman,  afterwards  seaman  on  the  Alliance  under  Jones,  dic- 
tated certain  statements  to  his  grandson,  and  the  narrative  was 
privately  printed.  In  it  he  leads  us  to  suppose  that  in  1773 
Jones  was  a  pirate,  and  that  then  and  for  some  years  afterwards, 


68o  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

he  believed  himself  to  be  the  illegitimate  son  of  the  Earl  of  Sel- 
kirk. These  things  may  be  true,  but  Chase's  narrative  sounds 
apocryphal.  We  have  the  "  sharp,  rakish,  clipper  built  craft, 
painted  entirely  black,  with  no  name  whatever  marked  upon  her," 
and  other  earmarks  of  sea  fiction.  Mrs.  de  Koven  finds  that  Chase 
was  on  the  Alliance  during  the  fight  between  the  Bon  Homme 
Richard  and  the  Serapis.  Then  how  does  she  account  for  the  nar- 
rative leading  the  reader  to  suppose  that  he  was  on  the  Richard 
during  the  battle?  She  says  of  Chase's  narrative  of  the  Ranger's 
cruise,  that  he  was  not  an  eyewitness,  and  relied  on  tradition  and 
hearsay  reports,  and  it  has  no  value.  Again,  an  old  man  eighty 
years  old  declared  he  had,  when  a  youth,  heard  another  old  man 
say  Jones  once  stated  that  he  had  been  a  pirate.  This  is  not  much 
better  than  Chase's  evidence.  We  are  still  in  doubt  whether  Jones 
was  a  pirate  or  not. 

Now  for  the  question  of  Jones'  birth.  That  he  believed  him- 
self to  be  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Selkirk  is  an  assertion  of  Thomas 
Chase's,  and,  apparently,  of  the  other  old  man.  That  seems  to 
have  been  a  general  belief  at  one  time,  although  Mrs.  de  Koven 
has  not  made  it  clear.  (Was  it  in  school  histories,  as  one  of  the 
letters  she  quotes  says  it  was?)  She  knows,  however,  that  the 
older  Lord  Selkirk  died  before  Jones  was  born,  and  that  the 
younger  was  not  living  in  the  part  of  Scotland  where  he  was  born 
for  seven  years  before  and  after  the  event.  So  she  has  him  the 
illegitimate  son  of  George  Paul,  John  Paul's  brother.  She  weaves 
a  suspicion  on  this  point,  but  it  is  absolutely  unsupported  by  any- 
thing worthy  of  being  called  evidence.  It  rests  entirely  upon  the 
statement  of  a  descendant  of  the  Pauls,  that  his  mother  said 
Jones  was  not  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Selkirk,  but  was  a  Paul; 
and  as  she  did  not  say  he  was  the  son  of  John  Paul,  and  as 
Jones'  earliest  recollection  (according  to  Chase  again)  was  of 
Saint  Mary's  Isle,  where  George  Paul  lived,  and  not  of  Arbigland, 
where  John  Paul  lived;  therefore,  he  was  George  Paul's  son! 

These  two  points  are  sufficient  to  show  Mrs.  de  Koven's 
limitations.  She  is  honest,  however,  and  does  not  conceal  facts, 
even  if  they  do  not  support  her  conclusions. 

NEWMAN'S  APOLOGIA  PRO  VITA  SUA.     The  two  Versions  of 
1864  and  1865  >  preceded  by  Newman's  and  Kingsley's  Pamph- 
lets.    With  an  Introduction  by  Wilfrid  Ward.     New  York: 
Oxford  University  Press.     50  cents  net. 
The  fact  that  within  a  few  months  two  distinct  editions  have 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  681 

appeared  of  the  Apologia  in  its  old  form,  as  distinguished  from  The 
History  of  My  Religious  Opinions,  one  in  Everyman's  Library, 
and  the  present  one  printed  at  the  Oxford  University  Press,  is  an 
indication  there  exists  a  widespread  interest  in  that  epoch-making 
work.  Of  the  two,  the  new  Oxford  edition  is  by  far  the  more 
satisfactory.  The  Everyman  edition  is  a  practically  complete  re- 
print of  the  edition  published  in  1864,  with  an  introduction  by 
Dr.  Charles  Sarolea.  The  Oxford  edition  is  a  reprint  of  both 
the  1864  and  1865  edition  of  the  Apologia.  This  is  done,  by 
clearly  indicating,  by  certain  signs,  even  the  smallest  differences 
between  the  two.  Before  this  reprint  of  the  Apologia  are  placed 
the  pamphlets  of  Dr.  Newman,  which  contains  the  correspondence 
with  Mr.  Kingsley,  and  Mr.  Kingsley's  pamphlet,  What,  Then, 
Does  Dr.  Newman  Mean?  If  there  were  an  index,  it  might  be 
looked  upon  as  the  definitive  edition  of  -the  Apologia. 

Mr.  Wilfrid  Ward,  the  author  of  the  Life  of  Cardinal  New- 
man, than  whom  no  one  could  be  more  competent,  has  contributed 
an  introduction.  In  it  he  gives  some  interesting  details  of  the 
relations  between  Dr.  Newman  and  Dr.  W.  G.  Ward.  There 
is  also  a  translation  of  two  appendices  which  Dr.  Newman  wrote 
for  the  French  edition  of  the  Apologia,  which,  so  far  as  we  are 
aware,  have  never  appeared  in  English  before.  These  appendices 
give  an  account  of  the  Constitution  and  History  of  the  Church 
of  England  and  of  the  University  of  Oxford.  Mr.  Ward  points 
out  how  inapplicable  to  the  present  day  is  the  statement  made  fifty 
years  ago  by  Dr.  Newman,  that  the  clergy  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, and  especially  the  high  dignitaries,  are  always  distinguished 
for  their  High  Toryism.  What,  he  asks,  would  Dr.  Newman 
have  thought  of  their  recent  alliance  with  democracy,  which  went 
so  far  as  giving  help  to  pass  the  Parliament  Bill. 

THE   CULT   OF  MARY.     By  Rev.   Thomas  J.   Gerrard.     New 

York:    Benziger  Brothers.     40  cents  net. 

This  is  a  very  excellent  statement  of  the  Catholic  teaching  re- 
garding the  Cult  of  Mary  in  the  Catholic  Church.  Father  Ger- 
rard shows  in  his  opening  chapter  that  the  Catholic  devotion  to  the 
Virgin  Mary  is  by  no  means  derived  from  the  pagan  worship  of  the 
Hindu  Maya  or  Devaki,  the  Asiatic  Astarte  or  Cybele,  or  the 
Egyptian  Isis.  The  other  chapters  deal  with  the  Divine  Maternity, 
the  Immaculate  Conception,  the  Perpetual  Virginity,  and  the  As- 
sumption. 


682  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

Father  Martindale  prefaces  the  volume  with  the  following 
verses  that  are  worth  quoting : 

Magna  Mater. 
Lost  on  the  lonely  hills  the  lamb  bleats  for  its  mother, 

Startled  with  frustrate  hope  by  reed  and  shadow  and  rock ; 
And  wailing  across  the  world  humanity's  desolate  flock 
Cries — if  perchance  it  be  She — upon  many  an  alien  other, 

Maya  and  Ishtar  and  Isis 

These  die  with  the  centuries'  death. 
Thou  Israel,  Son 
Of  the  Eternal  One, 
Cease  from  thy  wanderings:  lo,  Mary  of  Nazareth! 

JOHN  WESLEY'S  LAST  LOVE.     By  J.  A.  Leger.     New  York : 

E.  P.  Button  &  Co.     $1.25  net. 

The  manuscript  containing  the  following  account  of  Wesley's 
love  for  Grace  Murray  (pp.  1-105)  was  received  at  the  British 
Museum,  May  9,  1829.  It  has  been  published  twice  before,  in 
1848  and  1862.  The  work  is  not  in  John  Wesley's  own  handwrit- 
ing, apart  from  a  few  corrections  and  the  rough  sketch  of  the 
first  nineteen  stanzas  of  the  poem  at  the  end.  Still  it  is  authen- 
ticated by  the  correspondence  of  almost  every  detail  in  it,  either 
with  Wesley's  Extracts  from  His  Journal,  or  other  printed  docu- 
ments. No  student  of  Methodism  has  ever  questioned  it. 

The  author,  Mr.  Leger,  Professor  of  English  at  the  Naval 
College  at  Brest,  writes  us  that  he  was  attracted  towards  the  study 
of  Methodism  "  by  the  apparent  paradox  of  that  certainly  far- 
reaching  revival  in  the  very  country  from  which  Voltaire  and  others 
were  at  that  very  time  bringing  back  to  France  ideas  that  issued  in 
so  widely  different  results." 

The  author  assures  us  in  his  preface  that  none  but  "  narrow- 
minded  hero  worshippers,  blind  lovers  of  the  unreally  superhuman, 
would  discover  in  the  pages  of  Wesley's  diary  anything  likely 
to  lower  his  moral  stature  or  to  stain  his  memory."  Perhaps  not. 
But  if  one  can  read  this  book  and  the  comments  upon  the  incidents 
here  recorded  from  various  Protestant  sources,  and  dare  compare 
Wesley  with  the  least  of  the  saints  of  the  Catholic  Church,  he  is 
beyond  all  argument. 

That  John  Wesley  was  in  love  with  Grace  Murray  is  evident 
from  his  extravagant  praise  of  her.  He  declares  it  "  no  hyperbole, 
but  plain  demonstrable  fact,  that  Grace  has  done  more  good  than 


NEW  BOOKS  683 

any  other  woman  in  all  ye  English  Annals,  or,  I  might  say,  in 
all  ye  History  of  the  Church  from  ye  death  of  Our  Lord  to  this 

day  "(p.  73). 

To  a  disinterested  outsider,  these  very  pages  prove  her  to  be 

a  very  ordinary  uneducated  servant,  vain,  fickle,  selfish,  deceit- 
ful and  hysterical.  Uncertain  for  a  long  time  whether  to  marry 
John  Wesley  or  John  Bennett,  she  kept  both  of  them  dangling  on 
the  hooks,  until  finally  Charles  Wesley  convinced  her  that  she  ought 
not  to  marry  his  brother.  While  helping  Wesley  in  his  missionary 
work,  we  find  her  continually  falling  in  fainting  fits,  "  roaring  aloud 
for  disquietness  of  soul,"  declaring  her  willingness  to  go  to  hell 
for  the  glory  of  God,  almost  constantly  in  hot  water  with  her 
neighbors,  and  going  through  her  Methodistic  duties  at  the  very 
time  she  was  skeptical  about  the  Divinity  of  Christ. 

Wesley  married  in  the  end  the  widow  Vazeille — a  most  un- 
fortunate match.  She  was  a  regular  Xantippe;  jealous,  covetous, 
mean,  and  possessed  of  an  ugly  temper.  She  read  his  private 
letters  and  gave  them  to  the  public  press ;  in  her  anger  she  accused 
him  of  living  in  adultery  for  twenty  years;  she  separated  from 
him  more  than  once.  John  Hampson,  the  preacher,  relates  the 
following:  "Once  when  I  was  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  I  went 
into  a  room,  and  found  Mrs.  Wesley  foaming  with  fury.  Her  hus- 
band was  on  the  floor,  where  she  had  been  trailing  him  by  the  hair 
of  his  head ;  and  she  herself  was  still  holding  in  her  hand  venerable 
locks,  which  she  had  plucked  out  by  the  roots  (Tyerman,  Life  and 
Times  of  Rev.  John  Wesley.  Vol.  ii.,  p.  201). 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  chapter  in  Mr.  Leger's  volume, 
is  Chaper  V.  on  John  Wesley's  mind  and  character.  He  often 
claimed  to  speak  on  trivial  matters  as  the  Herald  of  God,  the 
acme  of  fanatic  dogmatism.  His  domineering  spirit  was  unmis- 
takable, for  he  seemed  to  make  as  much  fuss  over  rules  of  his  own 
devising  as  he  did  about  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel.  He  was 
stubborn  almost  to  the  point  of  perversity.  He  was  most  auto- 
cratic, never  allowing  his  authority  to  be  slighted  or  set  at  naught. 
His  father's  bombastic  claims  to  an  imperious  undivided  sway  as 
a  condition  of  all  sound  government,  and  his  mother's  well-regu- 
lated family  discipline,  left  a  lasting  trace  on  his  mind.  His 
brother  Charles  tells  of  him :  "  He  could  never  keep  secrets  since 
he  was  born.  It  is  a  gift  which  God  has  not  given  him."  He 
certainly  had  a  very  inflammable  heart,  for  his  sweethearts  were 
many:  Sarah  Kirkham,  the  gifted  and  intellectual  writer,  Mary 
Granville,  the  brilliant  aristocratic  charmer;  Sophy  Hopkey,  the 


684  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

bewitching,  if  rather  disingenuous,  jilt.  He  was  naturally  a  woman 
worshipper — most  susceptible  to  female  attractions,  yet  always 
honorable  and  delicate  in  his  feeling  and  conduct.  He  was  cer- 
tainly fond  of  sensational  spirituality.  He  laid  incredible  weight 
upon  all  extraordinary  occurrences,  believing  that  strangeness 
and  their  startling  effects  upon  the  recipients  were  proofs 
of  their  divine  origin.  We  find  him  intent  upon  omens  and  dreams, 
as  means  of  ascertaining  and  carrying  out  providential  pur- 
poses. While  he  occasionally  acknowledged  that  some  of  his  "  rag- 
ing "  converts  were  simply  epileptics  or  devil-possessed,  under  pres- 
sure of  opponents  who  challenged  him  to  work  wonders,  he  often 
pointed  to  the  extraordinary  manifestations  at  his  meetings  as 
miracles. 

One  thing  is  certainly  evident,  that  he  never  had  the  slightest 
intention  of  founding  a  Church,  he  simply  wished  to  form  a  con- 
fraternity closely  allied  to  the  Establishment  as  a  supplementary 
means  of  spiritual  help  and  edification. 

Notwithstanding  occasional  flashes  of  philosophic  insight,  we 
must  not  expect  from  his  writings  anything  like  constructive  specu- 
lative thought,  far-reaching  original  ideas,  or  any  sign  of  the  critical 
faculty.  Sentiment  in  Wesley  was  more  than  a  strain  or  graft; 
it  was  the  very  essence  of  his  soul. 

Our  author  brings  out  his  kindness  to  the  poor;  his  honesty 
of  speech;  his  neatness  in  personal  attire;  his  punctuality;  his 
tremendous  will  power  over  himself  and  others;  his  unflinching 
courage ;  and  his  evident  sincerity.  Whatever  knowledge  he  may 
have  had  of  the  general  motives  and  principles  of  human  nature, 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  happy  penetrating  into  the  views 
and  characters  of  individuals.  This  particularly  appears  in  his 
love  affairs,  in  which  he  was  undoubtedly  unfortunate.  Many 
readers  of  this  volume  will  agree  that  his  attachment  to  Grace 
Murray  was  rather  injudicious.  No  one  will  deny  that  his  marry- 
ing Mary  Vazeille  was  an  absolute  mistake.  The  marvelous  trials 
and  experiences  of  the  one,  the  "  sorrowful  spirit "  of  the  other, 
had  won  his  heart,  and  blinded  him  to  everything  else. 


HINDRANCES  TO  CONVERSION  TO  THE  CATHOLIC 
CHURCH  AND  THEIR  REMOVAL.  By  Rev.  Father  Gra- 
ham. St.  Louis :  B.  Herder.  20  cents  net. 

Father   Graham   writes   a   direct   simple   treatise   on   the .  in- 
fluences which  keep  Protestants  to-day  outside  the  fold  of  the  One 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  685 

True  Church.  He  speaks,  of  course,  chiefly  of  the  Presbyterians 
and  Anglicans  of  Scotland,  though  his  words  apply  to  orthodox 
Protestants  the  world  over.  The  chief  obstacles  he  enumerates 
are :  prejudice,  which  paints  the  Catholic  Church  "  black,  guilty, 
detestable  and  dreadful;"  utter  ignorance  of  the  very  A  B  C  of 
Catholic  doctrine  and  practice;  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  and  con- 
tentment in  their  present  position;  the  fear  of  losing  worldly 
position;  the  pride  of  intellect,  which  fights  shy  of  authority,  and 
the  pride  of  will,  which  considers  confession  the  very  depth  of 
degradation;  the  unreasoning  attachment  to  the  church  of  one's 
baptism,  etc.,  etc. 

He  devotes  a  special  chapter  to  hindrances  placed  by  Catholics, 
telling  them  to  never  let  opportunities  slip  of  enlightening  their 
Protestant  friends,  and  always  to  work  and  pray  earnestly  for  their 
conversion. 

At  the  end  of  this  practical  little  volume,  he  publishes  a  list 
of  useful  books  which  will  prove  helpful  to  the  average  inquirer. 

LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  CALVIN.     Translated  from  the  Dutch  of 

L.  Penning  by  the  Rev.  B.  S.  Berrington.     London:    Kegan, 

Paul,  Trench,  Trubner  &  Co.     $3.50  net. 

This  volume  is  not  worthy  of  an  extended  notice,  for  it  is 
the  work  of  a  mere  rhetorician  rather  than  of  a  scholar.  It  is  full 
of  inaccurate  statements,  devoid  of  true  historical  perspective,  and 
its  continual  appeal  to  anti-Catholic  prejudice  reminds  one  of  the 
fourth-rate  controversialists  of  the  A.  P.  A.  days  of  the  early 
nineties.  In  discussing  the  burning  of  Servetus,  the  author  as- 
serts without  proof  that  the  Bern  Council  demanded  the  stake, 
contrary  to  Calvin's  wish.  He  admits  that  the  leaders  of  the 
Protestantism  of  the  day — Beza,  Haller,  Sulzer,  Musculus,  Me- 
lanchthon,  etc. — rejoiced  at  the  tidings  of  Servetus'  death,  but 
this  intolerant  spirit  "  was  the  Roman  Catholic  leaven  in  the  Prot- 
estant dough."  Moreover,  he  adds :  "It  was  a  well-known  fact 
that  Anabaptists,  Libertines,  and  Rationalists,  all  preachers  of 
false  doctrines  like  Servetus,  found  and  obtained  followers  in  the 
Reformed  circles.  In  this  way,  Protestants  got  a  bad  reputation; 
they  were  said  to  be  tainted,  infected  with  revolutionary  ideas, 
and,  without  the  slightest  doubt,  this  opinion  would  have  been  con- 
firmed if  Servetus,  who  had  been  condemned  by  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic court  of  justice  in  Vienna,  had  got  off  scot-free  in  Geneva." 

Is  it  not  rather  amusing  to  find  our  author  speaking  on  one 


686  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

page  of  Calvin's  erecting  the  "  temple  of  liberty/'  and  on  the 
next  telling  of  the  laws  of  the  Genevan  Sparta,  which  punished 
adultery  with  death,  banished  all  who  refused  to  swear  to  the  new 
confession  of  faith,  forbade  dancing,  prescribed  moderate  eating 
and  drinking,  etc.,  and  then  sent  elders  to  every  house  once  a  year 
to  see  that  the  laws  were  carried  out? 


CHRISTOLOGY;  A  DOGMATIC  TREATISE  ON  THE  INCAR- 
NATION.    By  Rev.  Joseph  Pohle,  D.D.     Authorized  English 
Version  by  Arthur  Preuss.     St.  Louis:    B.  Herder.     $1.50. 
Dr.  Pohle,  one  time  Professor  at  the  Catholic  University  of 
Washington,  should  need  no  introduction  to  American  readers. 
His  German  work  on  Dogmatic  Theology,  which  is  now  being  trans- 
lated, thanks  to  Arthur  Preuss,  is  one  of  the  most  successful  theo- 
logical manuals  in  Germany. 

The  present  volume  on  the  natures  and  personality  of  Christ 
can  be  whole-heartedly  commended.  Against  the  modernistic  works 
that  would  rob  Christ  of  His  Divinity,  this  book  will  prove  invalu- 
able. It  is  solidly  conservative,  and  contains  the  traditional  armory 
of  the  Church  for  the  repulse  of  all  attacks.  Not  merely  does  it 
present  sound  arguments,  but  a  wide  and  varied  erudition.  It  is 
well-documented,  as  the  French  would  say. 

The  language  used  by  the  translator  is  highly  technical,  at 
times  even  Latin  in  character.  Technical  language  is  sometimes 
a  necessity,  and  must  be  excused  where  a  paraphrase  would  have  to 
be  used  for  a  time-saving  single  word.  Perhaps,  however,  the 
translator  might  find  a  better  translation  than  "  communication 
of  idioms,"  when  "  idiom  "  has  in  English  a  completely  different 
sense  from  the  similar  word  in  Latin.  On  the  whole,  the  work 
of  both  author  and  translator  is  characterized  by  extensive  erudi- 
tion, and  Teutonic  thoroughness. 

CEASE  FIRING.     By  Mary  Johnston.     Boston:    Houghton  Mif- 

flin  Co.     $1.40  net. 

It  seems  to  be  the  fashion  for  women  novelists  to  write  war 
stories  of  epic  proportions.  A  British  author  has  recently  thrilled 
us  with  tales  of  mighty  race  conflicts  in  South  Africa  and  in  the 
Crimea.  It  remained  for  a  daughter  of  the  South  to  give  us  a 
gripping  recital  of  the  four  years'  strife  waged  upon  our  own 
continent.  The  drama  set  in  motion  to  the  accompanying  beat  of 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  687 

The  Long  Roll,  Miss  Mary  Johnston  has  now  brought  to  a  finish 
with  the  command  Cease  Firing. 

It  is  some  years  since  our  own  Miss  Repplier  said  that  "  no 
living  novelist  begins  a  story  better  than  Miss  Mary  Johnston," 
but  we  doubt  that  any  new  star  has  since  appeared  that  could 
eclipse  the  brilliance  of  the  opening  chapters  containing  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  Mississippi  fretted  both  with  heavy  rains  and  with  war, 
the  disastrous  floods,  the  meeting  of  the  hero  and  heroine,  their 
marriage,  and  the  siege  of  Vicksburg.  From  here  the  scene  rapidly 
changes  to  Virginia,  indeed  throughout  the  book  the  impression  is 
well  conveyed  of  a  harassed  country  obliged  to  defend  simulta- 
neously its  widely-separated  frontiers.  The  feminine  pen  has 
spared  us  no  detail  of  the  horrors  of  war,  depopulation,  famine, 
pestilence,  carnage,  field-hospitals,  transporting  of  the  wounded 
after  battle,  burying  the  dead,  prisons  of  the  scarcely  more  for- 
tunate survivors.  Much  is  depicted,  too,  of  the  deprivations  of 
those  who  remained  in  their  desolate  homes ;  many  of  the  incidents 
and  stories  drawn  from  "  the  records  of  men  and  women  writing 
of  that  through  which  they  lived."  We  meet  again  several  of  the 
gracious  women  who  figured  in  the  earlier  story. 

The  descriptions  are  all  made  with  the  minuteness  and  preci- 
sion of  a  Van  Eyck — if  one  might  conceive  of  a  Van  Eyck  stretched 
upon  a  canvass  of  titanic  dimensions;  indeed  the  mass  of  detail  is 
such  as  to  bewilder  the  reader  and  to  obscure  the  perspective.  One 
instinctively  echoes  the  sentiment  of  the  harassed  tourist  who,  after 
faithfully  making  the  circuit  of  the  Uffizi,  remarked  that  he  con- 
sidered "  water  colors  more  suitable  to  the  home."  To  those  ac- 
customed to  the  impressionistic  sketches  of  some  of  our  popular 
authors,  these  four  hundred  and  fifty  pages  may  seem  "  heavy,"  but 
to  all  who  appreciate  painstaking  collation  of  material,  honest 
craftsmanship  and  a  classic  style,  Cease  Firing  will  have  a  perma- 
nent value  equal  to  that  of  the  author's  earlier  book,  The  Long  Roll, 
of  which  it  is  the  sequel. 

V.  V.'S  EYES.     By  Henry  Sydnor  Harrison.     Boston :   Houghton 

Mifflin  Co.     $1.35  net. 

Mr.  Harrison  has  equalled  if  not  surpassed  Queed,  his  novel 
of  two  years  ago.  Dr.  V.  Vivian,  the  slum  doctor  with  the  in- 
sistent, soul-stirring  eyes,  manages  after  years  of  patient  endeavor 
to  awaken  the  soul  of  the  heroine,  Carlisle,  a  worldly,  thoughtless, 
and  utterly  selfish  girl. 


688  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

The  whole  story  hinges  on  a  very  slender  incident — a  boat 
upsetting — which  recurs  on  page  after  page  with  rather  irritating 
emphasis.  "Why  didn't  she  tell  the  truth  at  once,"  says  the 
exasperated  reader,  "and  save  poor  Jack's  reputation?"  But 
then  we  would  not  have  had  this  long  drawn-out  tale;  and  Cally 
at  the  end  of  the  third  chapter  would  have  married  Canning,  the 
millionaire  prince  of  her  dreams,  without  having  ever  understood 
the  principles  of  the  incomparable  V.  V. 

Mr.  Harrison  writes  well,  although  frequently  we  notice  an 
overstrained  artificiality  of  expression.  One  can  see  that  he  has 
spared  no  effort  to  perfect  every  sentence.  His  character-draw- 
ing is  excellent.  We  all  recognize  at  a  glance  V.  V.,  the  idealist; 
Heth,  the  ignoramus  money-getter ;  Mrs.  Heth,  the  social  climber ; 
Canning,  the  unmoral  society  man,  and  Cally  the  vapid  worlding, 
who  is  hardly  worth  redeeming.  Altogether  it  is  a  novel  that  we 
recommend  you  to  take  with  you  on  your  summer  vacation. 

CALLISTA.     By  Cardinal  Newman.     New  York:    P.  J.  Kenedy 

&  Sons.     50  cents. 

The  coming  to  hand  of  this  cheap  and  satisfactory  edition  of 
Newman's  Callista  serves  as  a  reminder  that  the  story  has  not 
yet  received  its  full  meed  of  appreciation.  That  it  has  been  far 
less  generally  popular  than  the  Fabiola  of  Cardinal  Wiseman  is  due 
probably  to  the  fact  that  it  appeals  not  to  the  emotional,  but  almost 
altogether  to  the  intellectual,  in  its  readers.  It  is,  of  course,  a 
splendid  picture  of  the  third  century,  of  the  strife  between  pagans 
and  Christians,  of  the  uprisings  and  the  persecutions.  It  traces, 
moreover,  the  transition  of  a  cultured  mind,  a  mind  typical  of  the 
age  and  the  race,  from  pagan  philosophy  to  Christian  religion. 
The  Greek  girl,  Callista,  maker  of  images,  and  seeker  after  truth, 
becomes  at  last  the  lover  of  Christ,  and  for  His  sake  the  heroic 
martyr. 

Without  dilating  on  the  truth  that  Callista  should  be  much  more 
familiar  than  it  is  to  Catholics  in  general,  we  should  like  to  par- 
ticularize in  respect  to  our  Catholic  high  schools.  The  study  of 
this  novel  should  be  included  in  the  English  course  of  every 
secondary  school.  It  will  assist  the  children  in  their  ancient  history, 
by  giving  them  definite  ideas  of  the  development  of  the  Church  in 
the  first  centuries;  it  will  familiarize  them  with  Roman  names  and 
terms,  thus  correlating  and  vitalizing  their  Latin  lessons;  and  it 
will  introduce  them  to  the  perfect  prose  of  Newman.  Its  study  is 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  689 

already  on  the  list  of  entrance  requirements  for  several  of  our 
Catholic  colleges — a  step  in  the  right  direction.  And  it  should 
most  certainly  be  taken  up,  even  by  the  pupils  who  are  not  preparing 
for  college.  The  high  school  teachers  who  have  read  it  with  their 
classes,  have  found  that  its  interest  and  value  well  repay  for  its 
difficulties. 

THE  MEANING  OF  GOD  IN  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.  By  Wil- 
liam Ernest  Hocking,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Philos- 
ophy in  Yale  University.  New  Haven :  Yale  University  Press. 
$3.00  net. 

The  present  work,  we  are  of  opinion,  comes  under  the  pro- 
hibition of  the  Index  of  the  Catholic  Church,  which  forbids  the 
reading  of  non-Catholic  works  treating  professedly  of  religion, 
unless  it  be  established  that  they  contain  nothing  against  Catholic 
faith.  Unfortunately  in  the  chapter  on  the  Prophetic  Conscious- 
ness, the  author  seems  to  speak  of  Christ  as  if  He  were  merely 
human,  like  Buddha  and  Mohammed. 

For  those  dispensed  from  the  Catholic  laws  of  the  Index, 
the  book  contains  much  excellent  thought.  The  author  shows  the 
limitations  of  idealism,  and  of  modern  pragmatism,  and  proves  the 
necessity  of  the  objective  and  of  the  absolute.  While  admitting 
some  truth  in  the  doctrine  that  the  will  is  the  maker  of  truth, 
that,  for  example,  the  will  to  believe  a  man  good,  inspires  goodness, 
the  author  wisely  places  restrictions  on  voluntarism.  To  a  very 
great  extent  the  author's  tendencies  are  for  sanity,  naturalness, 
and  common  sense  in  philosophy,  and  pity  it  is  that  these  have 
not  a  wider  influence  in  modern  thought.  As  for  religion,  colored 
by  a  limited  and  sound  pragmatism,  the  author's  position  is — the 
idea  of  God  is  not  lazy;  it  works. 

Dr.  Hocking  is  to  be  congratulated  when  he  breaks  with  the 
modern  spirit,  and  says  the  true  Church  is  to  be  found  among  in- 
fallible Churches;  also  when  he  asserts  that  the  modern  theory 
of  knowledge  is  over-dogmatic  in  placing  physical  knowledge  as 
the  only  real  kind  of  knowledge.  The  style  of  the  work  is,  gener- 
ally, crude  and  obscure,  but  this  is  not  a  fault  of  Dr.  Hocking's 
alone,  but,  to  a  large  extent,  of  the  philosophic  spirit  of  the  time. 
One  of  the  fruits  of  religion,  of  a  belief  in  God,  is  said  to  be  a 
prophetic  consciousness,  a  knowledge  that  our  acts  will  be  his- 
toric, will  triumph,  will  have  a  divinity  about  them.  That  seems 
to  be  another,  but  obscurer,  way  of  saying  that  we,  severally,  "  can 
VOL.  xcvu. — 44 


690  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

make  our  lives  sublime,"  and  leave  lasting  footprints  in  time's  shift- 
ing sands.  This  inspiring  thought  is  believed  by  the  author  to  be 
the  root  of  happiness. 

FOLK  TALES  OF  EAST  AND  WEST.     By  John  Harrington  Cox. 

Boston:    Little,  Brown  &  Co.     $1.10  net. 

When  Professor  Cox,  of  West  Virginia  University,  published 
his  Chevalier  of  Old  France,  an  adaptation  of  the  Song  of  Roland, 
intended  for  boys  and  girls  of  eleven  or  older,  we  noticed  it  very 
gladly  as  the  proper  thing  in  juvenile  literature.  Such  adapted 
versions  of  real  history  and  real  literature  are  exactly  what  we 
hope  soon  to  find  superseding  the  Nick  the  Boy  Pirate  and  the 
Dotty  Dimple  creations.  Just  as  hearty  praise  may  be  given  to 
Professor  Cox's  latest  volume,  Folk  Tales  of  East  and  W-est,  which 
he  describes  as  "  a  collection  of  old  tales,  so  old  that  they  are  new." 
It  includes  a  story  from  the  Swedish,  one  from  the  Anglo-Saxon, 
one  from  the  Japanese,  two  from  Chaucer,  and  even  a  "  Judith  and 
Holofernes  "  from  the  Old  Testament.  In  each  of  these  Professor 
Cox  retains  admirably  the  atmosphere  and,  as  far  as  possible,  the 
vocabulary  of  the  original  writing.  He  avoids  in  this  way  the 
tendency  to  "  write  down  "  to  the  child  mind  by  confining  himself 
to  everyday,  one-syllable  words,  and  he  also  throws  over  each 
story  a  separate  glamor,  always  the  glamor  of  the  unfamiliar,  the 
mysterious.  The  child's  curiosity  is  thus  spurred,  his  vocabulary 
increased,  and  the  content  of  his  mind  vaguely  but  certainly  broad- 
ened. 

Our  sole  criticism  of  the  book  would  be  levelled  at  the  story 
of  "  Sister  Beatrice,"  which  is  translated  from  the  poem  Beatrifs 
by  the  Dutch  poet,  Mr.  P.  C.  Boutens.  The  old  legend  of  the  faith- 
less nun,  whose  place  was  filled  by  the  Blessed  Virgin,  is  here 
repeated  with  dignity  and  with  beauty;  from  the  Catholic  point  of 
view,  however — indeed,  from  the  ethical  point  of  view — it  is  not 
acceptable,  because  the  idea  of  sin  and  remorse  is  omitted.  We 
have  the  tale  in  sweeter,  truer  guise  as  A  Legend  of  Provence,  by 
Adelaide  Proctor. 

TOLERANCE.  By  Rev.  A.  Vermeersch,  SJ.  Translated  by  W. 
Humphrey  Page,  K.S.G.  New  York:  Benziger  Brothers. 
$1.75  net. 

Father  Vermeersch  tells  us  that,  "  strictly  speaking,"  tolerance 
has  always  some  evil  for  its  object,  such  as  a  physical  defect, 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  691 

an  intellectual  error  or  a  moral  deformity.  We  tolerate  an  af- 
front or  an  injury,  but  not  a  favor;  and  even  in  speaking  of 
physical  sensations,  it  is  not  pleasure,  but  pain,  that  we  describe 
as  tolerable  or  intolerable.  He  deals  with  tolerance  or,  we  pre- 
fer to  write,  toleration  from  the  viewpoint  of  the  individual, 
the  Church,  and  the  State.  His  first  chapter  deals  with  tolera- 
tion in  private  life.  No  one  will  question  this  part  of  his  thesis, 
for  it  is  the  mere  expression  of  the  most  elemental  Christian 
principles.  He  says :  "  Except  for  the  right  to  resist  violence  and 
to  defend  himself  against  injustice,  the  private  individual  has  no 
control  over  the  acts  of  another,  and  no  right  to  constitute  him- 
self a  judge  in  respect  of  such  acts;  he  is  bound  to  respect  the 
liberty  of  his  fellowman  as  a  right,  even  if  that  liberty  be  im- 
properly granted.  He  may  endeavor  to  dissuade  another  from  a 
particular  line  of  conduct,  or  blame  him  if  he  persists  in  it;  but 
he  has  no  right  to  prevent  or  to  punish."  In  a  word,  a  man  is 
really  tolerant  when  he  endures  the  existence  of  opinions  contrary 
to  his  own  without  any  feeling  of  vexation  or  irritation. 

The  doctrinal  intolerance  of  the  Catholic  Church  consists  in 
the  rigor  with  which  she  imposes  upon  her  members  the  inward 
acceptance  and  outward  profession  of  her  Credo,  or  her  dogmatic 
or  moral  teaching.  The  Catholic  Church,  as  guardian  of  the  faith, 
has  never  allowed  the  slightest  compromise  with  error,  but  has 
demanded  of  her  children  constancy  in  the  faith  even  unto  death. 
She  must,  as  a  divine  infallible  teacher,  expel  from  her  fold  any 
member,  clerical  or  lay,  who  questions  even  one  of  her  defined 
doctrines.  Once  this  is  granted,  it  follows  necessarily  that  the 
Church  must  protect  the  faith  and  morals  of  her  children,  just  as  a 
parent  must  protect  the  faith  and  morals  of  his  family.  Of  course 
this  disciplinary  intolerance  can  only  be  exercised  over  her  own  sub- 
jects. She  claims  no  power  over  Jew  or  unbeliever,  and  she  has 
always  maintained  with  St.  Augustine :  "  No  one  is  brought  to  the 
faith  by  force,"  or  with  St.  Athanasius :  "  It  is  the  part  of  religion 
not  to  compel  but  to  persuade."  Father  Vermeersch  states  that 
Vacandard  considers  this  distinction  illogical,  but  to  our  mind 
he  agrees  with  it  perfectly  (The  Inquisition,  pp.  256,  257). 

How  far  this  disciplinary  intolerance  may  be  exercised  to- 
wards her  own  subjects,  is  a  matter  in  dispute  among  theologians. 
Some  have  maintained  that  the  Church  has  the  right  to  inflict 
capital  punishment  in  certain  cases.  They  teach  that  "  for  eccle- 
siastical criminal  cases,  the  right  of  the  sword  exists  in  the  Pope,  as 


692  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

in  one  who  has  the  power  of  ordering  punishment,  and  in  the 
Sovereign  as  in  one  who  carries  out  the  orders  of  another."  With- 
out making  this  opinion,  even  in  its  modified  form,  an  article  of 
faith,  Bellarmine  and  Suarez  give  it  as  that  of  the  schools.  Father 
Vermeersch  in  a  note  endeavors,  unsuccessfully  we  think,  to  ex- 
clude St.  Thomas  from  the  list.  But  the  words  of  the  Summa  are 
explicit :  "  In  like  manner,  the  Catholic  Church  saves  some  of  her 
children  by  the  death  of  others,  and  consoles  her  sorrowing  heart 
by  reflecting  that  she  is  acting  for  the  general  good  "  (Summa 
Ha,  Ilae,  quaest.  X.,  art.  8,  ad  4m). 

He  also  regrets  Vacandard's  criticism  of  the  arguments  of 
St.  Thomas,  and  declares  his  interpretation,  incorrect  (pp.  64,  166). 
We  do  not  think  the  Jesuit  Father  has  proven  his  point  ( Vacandard, 
The  Inquisition,  pp.  171-173).  We  are  pleased  to  see  that  our 
author,  against  certain  moderns  like  Tarquini,  Mazella,  and  Lepi- 
cier,  denies  the  Church's  right  to  inflict  capital  punishment. 

He  proves  his  viewpoint  from  the  teaching  of  Tertullian, 
Lactantius,  St.  Cyprian,  Origen,  St.  John  Chrysostom,  St.  Augus- 
tine, and  Leo  the  Great  in  the  early  Church,  and  from  St.  Theodore, 
Alcuin,  Rabanus  Maurus,  St.  Peter  Damian,  St.  Anselm,  St. 
Bernard,  etc.,  in  the  mediaeval  period.  His  own  opinion  about  the 
coercive  power  of  the  Church  is  as  follows :  "  Neither  by  her  own 
powers  nor  by  concession  of  the  State,  can  the  Church,  as  such, 
inflict  irreparable  punishments.  She  has  possessed  the  power  of 
inflicting  all  other  temporal  punishments,  and  we  recognize 
in  her  the  right  to  claim  the  assistance  of  the  State  for  the 
application  of  those  temporal  punishments  which,  in  view  of  her 
spiritual  end,  she  considers  it  proper  in  certain  circumstances  to 
prescribe  or  inflict.  But  if  we  confine  our  attention  to  the  in- 
herent power  of  the  Church,  that  power  which  she  possesses  al- 
ways and  everywhere,  we  consider  that  her  power  is  limited  to 
those  penalities,  spiritual  or  temporal,  which  find  their  last  sanction 
in  the  supreme  penalty  of  excommunication."  This  is  a  bit  vague, 
for  there  are  reparable  temporal  punishments  that  are  just  as  much 
opposed  to  the  authorities  he  cites  as  the  death  penalty  itself. 

Father  Vermeersch  accuses  Vacandard  of  attaching  too  much 
weight  to  the  work  of  Don  Salvatore  di  Bartolo  (the  Criteri  Teol- 
ogici),  in  which  he  proves  the  two  following  theses:  I.  Constraint 
in  the  sense  of  employing  violence  to  enforce  ecclesiastical  laws 
originated  with  the  State.  II.  The  constraint  of  ecclesiastical 
laws  is  by  divine  right  exclusively  a  moral  constraint. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  693 

We  are  well  aware  that  the  first  edition  of  this  book  was 
put  upon  the  Index,  but  as  the  second  edition  was  revised  and 
corrected  by  the  author,  and  published  with  the  approbation  of 
Father  Lepidi,  the  Master  of  the  Sacred  Palace,  it  has  all  the  more 
weight  and  authority.  Some  have  declared  the  Syllabus  con- 
demned this  view,  but  the  question  under  dispute  is  whether  the 
coercive  power  comprises  merely  spiritual  penalties  or  temporal 
and  corporal  penalties  as  well.  The  editor  of  the  Syllabus  did 
not  decide  this  question;  he  merely  referred  us  to  the  letter  Ad 
Apostolica  Sedis  of  August  22,  1851.  But  this  letter  is  not  at 
all  explicit;  it  merely  condemns  those  who  pretend  "  to  deprive  the 
Church  of  the  external  jurisdiction  and  coercive  power  which  was 
given  her  to  win  back  sinners  to  the  ways  of  righteousness."  The 
theologians  who  at  the  Vatican  Council  prepared  canons  ten  and 
twelve  of  the  Schema,  De  Ecclesia,  on  this  very  point  of  doctrine, 
did  not  remove  the  ambiguity.  They  explicitly  affirmed  that  the 
Church  had  the  right  to  exercise  over  her  erring  children  "  con- 
straint by  an  external  judgment  and  salutary  penalties,"  but  they 
said  nothing  about  the  nature  of  those  penalties.  Cardinal  Soglia, 
in  a  work  approved  by  Gregory  XVI.  and  Pius  IX.,  declared  that 
the  limiting  of  the  Church's  coercive  power  to  merely  moral  re- 
straint was  "  more  in  harmony  with  the  gentleness  of  the  Church  " 
(Vacandard,  op.  cit.,  pp.  250-252). 

In  his  chapter  on  the  Inquisition,  Father  Vermeersch,  to  our 
mind,  is  a  whit  too  laudatory  of  the  practical  workings  of  that 
institution. 

While  the  book  as  a  whole  is  an  earnest  attempt  to  solve  all 
the  problems  suggested,  we  cannot  say  that  it  says  the  last  word  on 
this  all-important  matter.  The  author  repeats  himself  a  great 
deal,  and  we  do  not  think  him  at  all  fair  to  some  of  his  Catholic 
opponents.  He  has  done  a  good  work,  however,  in  calling  attention 
to  the  modern  rationalistic  preachers  of  toleration,  who  profess 
the  doctrine  with  their  lips,  but  give  the  lie  direct  to  it  in  practice. 
The  intolerance  of  France  and  Portugal  to-day  are  instances  in 
point.  The  translation  is  very  poorly  done. 

FOREIGN  PUBLICATIONS. 

TTNDER  the  title  La  Foi,  P.  Lethielleux  publishes  the  Lenten  Conferences 

\J       for  1912,  preached  in  Notre  Dame,  Paris,  by  Father  Janvier,  O.P. 

Other  publications  of  the  same  house  are  La  Predication  Contemporaine,  trans- 
lated from  the  German  of  Monsignor  Keppler  of  Rotenburg,  a  very  sug- 
gestive treatise  on  preaching,  containing  brief  analyses  of  characteristic  ten- 


694  '  NEW  BOOKS  [Aug., 

dencies  of  the  times,  with  useful  hints  and  directions  on  the  subject  matter, 
form,  delivery,  and  spirit  of  preaching;  and  Questions  de  Moral,  de  Droit 
Canonique  et  de  Liturgie,  in  which  Cardinal  Gennari  answers  nearly  eighteen 
hundred  important  questions,  most  of  them  new,  or  at  least  involving  compara- 
tively recent  decisions  of  the  Roman  Congregations. Eugene  Figuiere  (Paris) 

publishes  The  Era  of  the  Drama,  by  Henri-Martin  Barzun.  M.  Barzun  com- 
plains of  the  decadence  of  the  modern  drama,  especially  in  France.  He  wishes 
to  see  in  Paris  an  independent  theatre  for  dramatic  art — a  Louvre  Dramatique 

as  well  as  a  Louvre  Pictural. Les  Fous,  by  Remy  Montalee,  from  the  same 

house,  is  a  most  original  and  striking  book.    It  is  a  trenchant  and  effective 

satire  on  modern  scientific  dogmatism. Bloud  of  Paris  publishes  Harnack  et 

le  Miracle,  translated  by  Chas.  Senoutzen,  S.J.,  from  the  Italian  of  Herman 
van  Laak,  S.J.  It  is  against  Harnack's  thesis  that  Christianity  became  Catholic 
in  the  second  century.  Father  van  Laak  gives  a  thorough  and  detailed  refuta- 
tion.  The  same  house  publishes  Bellarmine's  Notes  of  the  True  Church.  This 

is  a  translation  of  the  fourth  book  of  the  fourth  controversy  of  the  Cardinal's 
celebrated  Controversies  of  the  Christian  Faith  Against  the  Heretics  of  the  Day. 
It  contains  also  an  excellent  sketch  of  the  life  and  writings  of  Cardinal  Bellar- 

mine. Another    publication    of    Bloud,    L'Objet    Integral    d    I'Apologetique, 

by  E.  A.  Poulpiquet,  discusses  the  proper  scope  and  scientific  methods  of 
apologetics  according  to  the  principles  of  St.  Thomas.  The  book  may  be  highly 

recommended    to    theological    students. The    same    house    is    publishing    an 

excellent  series  of  philosophical  brochures — Philosophers  and  Thinkers — espe- 
cially intended  for  young  students  preparing  for  their  degrees.  Jean  Didier, 
who  has  already  written  three  volumes  of  the  series  on  Locke,  Berkeley,  and 
Condillac,  has  in  the  present  volume  analyzed  briefly  but  accurately  the  philo- 
sophical writings  of  Hume,  "  the  great  modern  skeptic  who  for  over  a  hundred 

years  dominated  English  thought." In  Les  Quinze  Etapes  ou  Pas  Spirituels 

dans  la  voie  des  Exercises  de  Saint  Ignace,  by  le  Pere  Emile  Becker,  S.J. 
(Lethielleux),  the  author  shows  us  the  steps  by  which  St.  Ignatius  leads  to 

the    heights    of    perfection. Les    Semeurs    de    Vent,    by    Francisque    Parn 

(Lethielleux),  is  a  well-written  novel  that  aims  to  show  the  evil  effects  of  in- 
sincere modern  journalism. Vendeenne,  by  Jean  Charruau  (Tequi),  is  a  good 

pen  picture  of  the  stirring  revolutionary  days  in  La  Vendee. The  Foundations 

of  the  Faith,  by  Mario  La  Plana,  S.J.  (Tequi),  is  a  popular  little  manual  of 
apologetics  in  the  form  of  questions  and  answers.  From  this  last- 
named  firm  comes  to  us  also  the  second  and  third  volumes 
of  Abbe  Duplessy's  Le  Pain  Evangelique,  conversational  explanations  of  the 
Gospels  for  the  Sundays  and  Holydays  between  the  beginning  of  Lent  and 
Advent;  Jeunesse  et  Ideal,  by  Abbe  Henri  Morice,  a  series  of  conferences 
written  in  line  with  the  belief  that  the  best  way  of  persuading  men  to  lead  a 
Christian  life  is  by  dwelling  on  the  reasonableness,  the  beauty,  the  joys,  the 
rewards  of  virtue,  and  not  by  denouncing  vice;  Sentiment  de  Napoleon  I.  sur 
le  Christianisme,  the  fourteenth  edition  of  a  little  work  which  proves  that 
Napoleon  had  strong  Catholic  convictions,  and  that  his  last  days  were  blest 
with  the  consolations  of  religion.  The  anecdotes,  fragments  of  conversations, 
and  testimonies  of  which  this  book  is  made,  were  originally  compiled  a  few 
years  after  the  Emperor's  death  by  the  Chevalier  de  Beauterne.  The  present 
edition  was  revised  by  Ph.-G.  Laborie. 


foreign  perfobfcals. 

The  Balkan  War.  By  Spyr.  P.  Lambros.  This  article  deals 
with  the  Balkan  War  from  the  point  of  view  of  Greece.  The  writer 
claims  that  the  idea  of  a  union  of  the  Balkan  States  is  not  of 
recent  origin,  but  dates  back  to  the  year  1797.  It  was  the  idea 
of  a  Greek,  one  Rhigas,  who  had  been  a  schoolmaster  in  Thessaly, 
a  secretary  later  on  to  the  Greek  prince  in  Valachie,  and  who  was 
impregnated  with  the  spirit  current  during  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. He  then  made  his  centre  at  Vienna,  and  thence  sent  out  his 
literature  advocating  the  independence  of  the  Balkans.  He  is  con- 
sidered the  protomartyr  of  Greek  independence. 

The  more  proximate  cause  of  the  recent  troubles  with  Turkey 
arose  from  the  treatment  accorded  the  Greeks  during  the  uprising 
of  the  Young  Turks.  They  were  chiefly  these :  the  diminution  of 
the  prerogative  of  the  Greek  Patriarch  of  Constantinople ;  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  Primates  of  the  Church;  slaughter  of  the  Greek  popu- 
lation of  Turkey,  due  to  hatred  of  the  Balkan  races;  the  re- 
striction of  the  freedom  allowed  hitherto  to  the  Greek 
Press,  and  the  plan  of  transformation  of  the  ethnological  conditions 
of  Greek  countries  by  the  introduction  into  them  by  the  Turks  of 
a  heterogeneous  population  from  every  corner  of  Asia.  The  article 
then  takes  up  the  different  troubles  during  the  past  two  centuries 
between  Greece  and  Turkey. — Le  Correspondant,  June  10. 

A  Great  French  Statesman.  By  Henri  Welschinger.  This 
article  is  a  biographical  sketch  of  Charles  Chesnelong,  a  great 
statesman  who  labored  for  God  and  country.  He  was  born  at 
Orthez  in  the  year  1820,  and  died  in  1899.  As  a  defender  of 
his  faith,  he  is  worthy  to  be  ranked  with  Montalembert  and  Ozanam, 
as  his  voice  was  always  ready  to  defend  his  beloved  faith  in  the 
legislating  halls  of  his  native  land,  for  he  lived  at  a  time  when  the 
Church  in  France  needed  a  fearless  defender  among  the  laity,  and 
Charles  Chesnelong  did  not  prove  wanting.  In  everything  which 
was  for  his  nation's  good  he  displayed  the  same  energy  which 
marked  his  love  for  the  Church,  and  by  his  life  he  proved  that  a 
man  cannot  be  a  good  citizen  without  at  the  same  time  being  an 
exemplary  Catholic. — Le  Correspondant,  June  10. 

Belgian  Politics.     By  Adolphe  Hardy.     This  article  opens  with 


696  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Aug., 

the  tributes  paid  to  the  Catholic  direction  of  the  welfare  of  Belgium 
by  such  antagonists  of  the  Church  as  Luzatti  of  Italy  and  Henri 
Charriaut  of  France.  Even  Edmond  Picard,  the  ex-chief  of  the 
Belgian  Socialists,  seconds  every  word  of  praise  which  M.  Char- 
riaut pays  in  his  work  entitled,  Modern  Belgium,  the  Land  of 
Experience.  Since  Belgium  gained  her  independence  from  Holland 
— in  1830 — three  great  electoral  systems  have  prevailed  in  Bel- 
gium. The  article  then  gives  a  history  of  these  electoral  systems, 
with  their  revisions  and  additions.  The  rising  strength  of  So- 
cialism presents  a  serious  condition  of  affairs.  A  commission 
of  thirty-one  members  of  every  political  belief  has  been  formed 
to  study  out  the  serious  question  of  a  different  electoral  system. — 
Le  Correspondant,  June  10. 

Asiatic  Turkey.  By  Andre  Cheradame.  The  administration 
of  the  "  Young  Turks  "  in  the  brief  space  of  four  years  has  been 
far  from  successful.  The  confusion  and  disorder  in  government 
which  confronted  them  when  they  seized  the  power  from  Abdul 
Hamid,  have  not  been  removed  or  even  decreased.  The  public 
debt  in  these  four  years  is  far  greater  than  that  incurred  during 
the  thirty-three  years  of  Abdul  Hamid.  Their  subjects  have  utterly 
lost  faith  in  them. 

They  have  utterly  ignored  Asiatic  Turkey  with  its  motley 
population  of  Arabs,  Turks,  Kurds,  Armenians,  Greeks,  Israelites, 
and  others. 

The  Kurds  are  a  race  living  in  tribes — one  part  of  which  are 
nomads,  and  the  chief  scourge  of  the  Armenians.  In  Article  61 
of  the  Treaty  of  Berlin,  the  protection  of  Europe  was  promised  to 
Armenia,  but  this  has  never  gone  into  effect,  as  Turkey  herself 
has  utterly  ignored  it  by  allowing  the  Kurds  to  carry  on  their 
massacres.  The  Armenians  themselves  have  demanded  three  con- 
cessions from  the  Turks:  i.  The  nomination  of  a  ruler  chosen 
by  the  Sublime  Porte,  and  agreed  to  by  the  European  Powers. 
2.  A  mixed  commission  composed  of  three  Mussulmans,  three  Ar- 
menians, and  three  Europeans.  3.  The  appropriation  of  a  part 
of  the  revenues  for  local  needs. 

The  Arabs  are  the  most  important  of  these  Asiatic  Turks, 
considering  themselves  the  superiors  in  every  way  of  the  European 
Turk.  They  have  constituted  from  their  most  learned  men  of  all 
professions  a  commission  to  draw  up  a  programme  of  reform, 
which  will  meet  the  best  interests  of  the  Arabian  districts. 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  697 

The  great  cry  of  these  different  races  is  decentralization  of 
power,  and  the  Young  Turks  have  been  unable  to  cope  with  the 
question.  As  a  fundamental  basis  for  the  reform  of  the  manner  of 
governing  Asiatic  Turkey,  an  article  appeared  in  the  London 
Times  of  the  fourteenth  of  May  signed  "Vekil,"  which  recom- 
mended that  Asiatic  Turkey  be  divided  into  six  regions.  Five  of 
these  regions  would  have  a  European  Inspector  General,  assisted 
by  a  European  officer  for  reorganizing  the  gendarmes,  and  also 
a  European  Financial  Counsellor.  The  sixth  region  would  form 
a  centre,  a  model  territory  of  administration,  all  the  chiefs  of  the 
departments  to  be  Europeans.  In  this  way  "  Vekil  "  argues  that 
the  financial  reform  would  be  immediate  and  general;  and  the 
administrative  reform  would  have  begun  in  the  sixth  region. — 
Le  Correspondent,  June  25. 

Labor.  By  Baronne  Brincard.  The  writer  of  this  article 
narrates  the  sad  conditions  of  the  needle-women  of  Paris.  The 
meagre  pay  given  to  the  laborer  has  been  discovered  through  the 
examination  of  the  workers  themselves,  who  are  striving,  out  of 
their  small  pittance,  to  support  not  only  themselves,  but  also  aged 
parents  and  children  dependent  upon  them.  The  writer  appeals 
to  the  purchasers  of  these  fineries,  bought  at  an  enormous  price,  to 
strive  for  a  bettering  of  the  conditions  of  the  needle-women.  She 
advocates  a  system  in  vogue  in  this  country,  known  as  the  "  Con- 
sumer's League."  She  also  gives  the  addresses  of  business  houses 
where  the  workers  are  banded  together,  and  thus  through  union 
secure  a  living  wage. — Le  Correspondent,  June  25. 

Japan.  Unsigned.  This  article  first  takes  up  the  troubles, 
outside  its  own  borders,  which  are  causing  Japan  distress — the 
latest  is  the  Alien  Land  Bill  of  California.  The  Japanese  consider 
this  a  great  insult  to  their  nation,  and  absolutely  refuse  to  consider 
the  individual  rights  of  the  States  of  our  Union.  Yet  it  is  not 
only  in  the  United  States  that  Japan  is  having  trouble,  but  also  in 
Australia,  where  the  cry  is  "  No  Yellow  Labor !  "  New  Zealand 
threatens  to  follow  suit,  and  this  is  causing  great  uneasiness  to 
Great  Britain. 

But  the  greatest  trouble  for  Japan  is  within  her  own  Empire. 
With  the  accession  to  the  throne  of  Yoshohito,  the  son  of  the  late 
Emperor  Mutsuhito,  there  has  been  a  complete  severance  between 
the  old  and  the  new  Japan.  This  really  had  begun  before  the  death 


698  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Aug., 

of  the  late  Mikado,  and  can  be  traced  to  the  education  of  the 
young  Japanese  at  the  universities  of  England  and  the  United 
States,  where  their  students  have  drunk  deep  of  the  fallacious  philo- 
sophies of  Herbert  Spencer  and  Immanuel  Kant,  and  the  Socialism 
of  Karl  Marx.  With  the  introduction  of  these  principles  into 
Japan  by  their  foreign-educated  subjects,  all  that  sacredness  at- 
tached to  the  person  of  the  Mikado,  which  had  been  a  growth  of 
centuries,  died.  In  its  place  has  sprung  up  the  development  of 
extreme  socialistic  and  even  anarchical  ideas.  This  accounts  for 
the  attempts  on  the  life  of  the  late  Mikado. 

Another  factor  due  to  ideas  of  the  Western  world  is  that  of 
materialism,  i.  e.,  the  greed  for  gold,  which  has  become  the  passion 
of  the  race.  It  was  as  a  lesson  for  his  people  that  Gen.  Nogi 
chose  death  by  suicide. 

Within  the  last  six  months,  Japan  has  had  three  ministerial 
crises,  and,  unlike  the  Japan  of  former  days,  in  all  these  dif- 
ferent changes  of  government  have  shown  a  complete  disregard 
and  disrespect  for  the  Mikado.  Another  cause  of  discontent 
was  the  Portsmouth  Peace  Treaty  at  the  close  of  the  Russo-Japanese 
War.  The  intervention  of  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States 
has  been  a  source  of  great  disappointment  to  Japan. — Le  Corre- 
spondent, June  25. 

Spiritism.  By  Lucien  Roure.  Leon  Rivail  (Allan  Kardec), 
the  founder  of  spiritual  philosophy,  was  born  at  Lyons  in  1804.  In 
1847  tne  Fox  sisters  of  New  York  began  to  attract  attention  by 
their  seances.  Meanwhile  Kardec  was  investigating  Spiritism,  and 
in  1857  published  The  Book  of  Spirits,  which  in  1912  reached  its 
sixty-second  edition.  Soon  after  the  appearance  of  this  book  the 
Spiritist  Review  and  the  Spiritist  Society  of  Paris  were  founded. 
Spiritism  became  a  religion.  The  spirits,  said  Kardec,  would 
render  intelligible  to  all  the  words  of  Scripture;  revelation  had 
three  principal  stages:  Moses,  Christ,  and  Spiritism.  Kardec's 
works  are  anti-Christian  in  doctrine  and  morality.  Leon  Denis, 
of  Tours,  was  the  most  representative  successor  of  Kardec;  his 
work  marks  a  new  development  in  Spiritism  and  a  further  departure 
from  orthodox  Christianity.  Spiritist  authors  have  tried  to  take 
over  the  contemporary  discoveries  of  science  to  confirm  their  teach- 
ing, and  have  identified  themselves  in  some  degree  with  the  occult- 
ism of  the  East.  Spiritism  has  in  recent  years  made  great  progress 
both  in  Europe  and  America,  due  in  large  measure  to  the  support 


1913-]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  699 

of  such  men  as  Lombroso,  Wallace,  Crookes,  and  Lodge.  The 
Church  condemns  Spiritism  as  dangerous  and  superstitious. — 
Etudes,  June  5  and  20. 

Religion  and  Sociology.  By  H.  A.  Montagne,  O.P.  Durk- 
heim,  Mauss,  Hubert,  and  others,  calling  themselves  the  socio- 
logical school  of  religious  philosophers,  heirs  of  the  method  and 
thought  of  Comte  and  Guyau,  hold  that  religion  has  for  its  cause 
and  its  object  society.  It  is  true,  as  Brunetiere  said,  every  re- 
ligion must  be  a  society  of  beliefs.  Protestantism,  with  its  indi- 
vidual reason  opposing  the  common  Credo,  is  a  dying  faith.  It  is 
true,  also,  that  proselytism,  the  desire  to  make  others  share  what 
we  strongly  believe,  is  an  evidence  of  the  social  aspect  of  religion. 
But  is  religion  only  "a  universal  sociomorphism  ? "  Is  it  im- 
posed on  the  individual  from  without  by  the  collective  body  ?  Is  the 
divinity,  worshipped  in  religion,  only  society  transfigured  ?  Is  there 
but  one  religion,  that  of  humanity?  They  who  answer  "  Yes,"  build 
upon  an  absolutely  false  method  of  observation.  They  take  ac- 
count solely  of  external  facts — rites,  ceremonies,  and  the  like;  and 
they  rule  out  a  priori  the  interior  sentiments,  the  reasoned  conclu- 
sions which  gave  birth  to  these  rites.  They  deny  the  intervention 
of  God  because  He  is  not  an  external  fact.  They  confound  the 
external  forced  constraint  imposed  by  society  with  the  internal 
free  submission  imposed  by  truth.  They  falsely  assert  that  the 
act  of  faith  is  blind.  But  as  M.  A.  Lanz,  the  anthropologist,  says, 
religion  is  the  spontaneous  expression  of  the  human  soul,  reasonably 
arguing  to  an  Author  of  the  visible  world,  which  man  did  not 
and  could  not  create. — Revue  Thomiste,  May- June. 

The  Religious  Movement  in  German-Speaking  Countries.  By 
G.  G.  Lapeyre.  The  year  1912  has,  in  Germany,  rightly  been 
called  "  Election  Year."  The  Centre  Party  has,  indeed,  lost  some- 
what in  numbers,  but  it  polled  two  million  three  hundred  thousand 
votes,  a  greater  number  than  ever  before.  The  Socialists  gained, 
and  mostly  in  those  districts  in  which  the  Protestant  population  pre- 
dominates. 1912  has  been,  too,  a  year  of  congresses  for  both 
Protestants  and  Catholics.  Catholic  Congresses  were  held  at 
Treves,  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  at  Vienna.  One  of  the  most  im- 
portant reunions  was  that  of  the  "  Society  for  the  Protection  of  the 
Schools  and  Christian  Education." — Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais, 
June. 


7oo  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Aug., 

The  Youth  of  France.  By  Francis  Vincent.  Two  notable  books 
on  this  subject  have  recently  been  published,  one  by  "Agathon," 
pen-name  of  Messrs.  Henri  Massis  and  Alfred  deTarde,  and  another 
by  Emile  Heuriot,  which  prove  by  definite  information  how  truly  the 
convictions  of  the  young  men  of  France  are  turning  toward  the 
Catholic  Church.  Twenty-five  years  ago  it  was  not  thus.  Non- 
Catholic,  even  Radical,  writers  are  remarking  the  change.  Novel- 
ists, poets,  musicians,  painters,  sculptors,  students  of  the  normal 
school,  students  of  law,  medicine,  in  every  important  institution  of 
education,  and  every  branch  of  knowledge,  publicly  profess  their 
faith,  are  monthly  communicants,  keep  the  night  watch  at  Mont- 
martre  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and  are  active  members  of 
the  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  Society. — Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique, 
June  15. 

The  Tablet  (June  7)  :  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the 
Schools:  In  1895  the  Archbishops  of  Canterbury  and  York  took 
the  position  that  the  Church  of  England  did  not  wish  the  govern- 
ment to  contribute  its  proper  share  to  the  education  of  children  in 
denominational  schools,  a  stand  opposite  to  Cardinal  Vaughan's; 
that  as  the  parents  of  these  children  contributed  to  the  public 
educational  funds,  they  were  entitled  to  share  in  them.  The  pres- 
ent Archbishop  of  Canterbury  now  pleads  for  the  life  of  the  denomi- 
national schools,  which  is  threatened  by  the  Liberal  Party,  not  so 
much  through  adverse  legislation,  as  through  unjust,  illegal  dis- 
crimination, only  to  be  set  right  by  an  expensive  legal  proceeding, 
which  it  is  expected  will  ultimately  exhaust  the  denominational 
school.  He  asks  that  a  special  fund  be  provided  by  the  government 
to  cover  the  cost  of  such  litigation.  He  describes  another  means 
used  by  the  Liberals  to  secularize  the  schools — the  ultimate  pur- 
pose of  this  party — the  unfair  competition  to  which  denominational 
training  colleges  are  exposed.  By  controlling  the  training  colleges, 
and  permitting  no  definite  religious  instruction  to  be  given  therein, 
and  by  permitting  no  inquiry  into  the  religious  training  or  fitness 
of  candidates  for  teachers  in  the  Provided  (i.  e.}  Public)  schools, 
sooner  or  later  these  schools  must  be  without  any  religious  in- 
struction. 

(June  21 )  :  Sir  Mark  Sykes  and  the  Irish  Clergy:  A  letter 
from  the  pen  of  this  Catholic  Unionist,  personally  opposed  to  grant- 
ing Home  Rule,  refutes  the  charges  made  by  the  special  corre- 
spondent of  the  Daily  Telegraph  against  the  Irish  Catholic  clergy. 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  701 

What  the  Irish  are  to-day  and  the  strides  forward  they  are  making, 

Sir  Mark  attributes  to  the  clergy.- The  Roman  Correspondent 

relates  that  the  Pope  on  Sunday,  June  1 5th,  received  five  thousand 
children  who  had  made  their  First  Communion  that  morning. 

(July  5)  :  Monsignor  James  Canon  Connelly  summarizes  a 
reprinted  Tract  on  the  Present  State  of  English  Pronunciation,  by 

Robert  Bridges,  the  new  Poet  Laureate. A  full  report  of  the 

papers  and  proceedings  of  the  International  Congress  of  Catholic 

Women's   Leagues,   recently  held   in   London,   is   given. The 

ninth  historical  medal  struck  during  the  Pontificate  of  Pius  X. 
represents  the  great  seminary  for  the  sixteen  dioceses  of  Calabria, 
built  and  furnished  by  the  munificence  of  the  Pope.  It  symbolizes 
his  efforts  to  suppress  the  small  and  inefficient  seminaries  which 
many  poor  dioceses,  in  obedience  to  the  Council  of  Trent,  were  try- 
ing to  support.  Difficulties  in  the  carrying  out  of  his  plans  in 
Rome  are  discussed. 

The  Month  (July)  :  The  First  Evangelist  of  America:  Father 
Thurston  treats  this  question :  "  By  whom  was  the  first  Mass  cele- 
brated in  the  New  World?"  His  reason  for  the  inquiry  is  the 
"  extraordinary  persistence  of  a  quite  baseless  legend  that  has  es- 
tablished itself  regarding  the  personality  of  the  first  apostle  of 
Christianity  in  America."  The  present  article  is  given  to  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  untrue  and  distorted  presentment  of  the  career  of 
the  first  evangelist.  As  to  his  identity,  Father  Thurston  con- 
cludes :  "  For  the  present there  is  not  a  shadow  of  reason  for 

affirming  that  there  were  two  Bernardo  Boyls,  both  eminent  re- 
ligious who  lived  in  the  time  of  Columbus.  Secondly,  it  is  now 
certain  that  the  Boyl  who  went  with  Columbus  on  his  second  voyage 
was  neither  a  Benedictine  nor  a  Franciscan,  but  a  hermit  of  the 

Order  of  Minims."     These  facts  will  be  discussed  later. Father 

Sydney  Smith,  in  The  Gospel  of  the  Non-Miraculous,  scores  J.  M. 
Thompson's  Miracles  and  the  New  Testament  for  his  attitude 
towards  the  Gospel  miracles.  Those  who  believe  in  miracles  do  not, 
as  Thompson  hints,  base  their  belief  on  the  supposition  that  mira- 
cles "must  have  taken  place,  because  there  are  excellent  reasons  why 
they  should  have  done  so,"  but  on  the  contrary  they  look  to  the 
historical  data,  examined  in  the  light  of  sound  criticism  for  the 
conclusive  proof  that  the  Gospel  miracles  are  historical  facts. 
Father  Smith  shows  the  universal  extent  of  Christ's  miracles  over  all 
creation.  The  wind  and  the  sea,  man  and  the  spirit  world,  were  all 


702  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Aug., 

subject  to  Him.  It  does  follow,  as  Mr.  Thompson  claims,  that 
because  we  know  of  no  natural  laws  by  which  men  could  walk  on 
the  water,  multiply  bread,  restore  men  to  life,  that  therefore 
these  things  did  not  happen.  "  Real  intellectual  suicide "  does 
not  follow  from  the  admission  of  a  true  miracle,  but  rather  from 

the  out  and  out  a  priori  denial  of  miracle." R.  Herdman  Fender 

contributes  a  review  of  German  Catholic  Literature.  H.  Grierson 
describes  La  Vernas,  where  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  received  the 
stigmata. 

The  Irish  Ecclesiastical  Record  (July)  :  The  Golden  Jubilee 
of  the  Apostolic  Union  of  Secular  Priests,  commends  the  Rule  of 
the  Union  to  those  of  the  secular  clergy  who  have  not  as  yet 
adopted  it.  It  is  written  by  the  same  author,  the  Very  Rev.  Arthur 
Canon  Ryan,  who  at  the  time  of  the  silver  jubilee  of  the  Union 
made  a  similar  exposition  of  the  aims,  the  obligations,  and  the 
blessings  attendant  upon  this  union  of  priests  to  which  the  Pope 

has  given  such  a  cordial  commendation. New  Physical  Theories 

and  Old  Metaphysical  Concepts  is  a  criticism  from  a  philosophical 
standpoint  of  the  theories  connected  with  the  recently-published 
researches  of  Sir  William  Ramsay,  Professor  Collie,  and  Mr.  Pat- 
terson concerning  the  presence  of  helium  in  x-ray  and  other 
vacuum  tubes,  with  special  relation  to  the  notion  of  a  single  sub- 
stratum and  common  origin  of  material  substances.  The  author, 
Rev.  B.  J.  Swindells,  S.J.,  shows  that  "  even  in  the  light  of  modern 
knowledge,  the  old  scholastic  doctrines  are  by  no  means  absurd 
or  ridiculous,"  as  is  seen  from  a  comparison  of  materia  prima 

with  the  modern  protyle. Pastoral  Work  in  a  Great  City:  Paris, 

1913,  is  properly  called  A  Study  in  Pastoral  Theology.  It  is  a 
chronicle  of  the  effort  of  zealous  pastors  to  reach  every  member  of 
their  flock,  and  to  bring  to  each  the  message  given  to  the  world  so 
long  ago  by  the  Master  of  the  Fold.  "  In  every  department  of 
pastoral  work,"  writes  the  author,  tne  Very  Rev.  Patrick  Boyle, 
"  there  is  activity  and  progress ;"  a  new  spirit  has  been  awakened, 
and  during  the  past  six  years  success  has  come  in  many  forms 
to  bless  the  efforts  of  those  who  have  given  their  lives  that  all 
may  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the  Truth. The  Episcopal  Suc- 
cession of  Killaloe  (1326-1525) :  An  effort  is  here  made  by  W.  H. 
Grattan  Flood  to  clear  up  the  obscurity  and  the  apparent  inconsist- 
encies in  the  line  of  succession  of  Bishops  in  the  diocese  of  Killaloe 
during  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries. 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  703 

Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique  (June  15)  :  In  The  Penances 
of  the  Saints,  J.  Riviere  writes  that  no  material  affliction  as  such, 
unaccompanied  by  faith  and  love,  has  any  merit  before  God.  But 
granted  these  dispositions,  the  penances  of  a  sinner  may  satisfy 
for  his  own  sins ;  those  of  a  saint  for  the  sins  of  others,  not 
indeed  as  a  quantitative  and  juridical  exchange  of  pain  for  pardon, 
but  only  as  a  more  efficacious  prayer.  God's  wrath  is  not  softened 
by  the  sight  of  their  suffering  itself,  but  of  the  love  manifested1  in 
and  through  the  suffering.  Then,  too,  all  the  unapplied  merits 
of  the  Saints  with  those  of  Christ  form  a  spiritual  treasury  from 
which  the  divine  mercy  distributes  grace  at  will,  and  on  which 
the  Church  offically  draws  when  granting  indulgences.  Nothing 

in  the  economy  of  the  supernatural  order  is  lost. F.  Cimetier 

summarizes  a  volume  by  M.  Auguste  Rivet  on  the  financial  re- 
sources of  Catholic  institutions,  and  the  means  of  safeguarding 

them  before  the  civil  law. Michael  d'Herbigny  praises  a  study 

by  the  late  Abbe  Bousquet  on  the  causes  of  the  Greek  Schism, 
the  present  condition  of  the  "  Orthodox  "  Church,  and  the  prospects 
of  reunion  with  Rome. 

Annales  de  Philosophic  Chretienne  (May- June)  :  Victor  Del- 
bos  discusses  the  positions  of  Arnauld  and  of  Malebranche  on  the 

nature  and  origin  of  ideas. P.  de  Bernardis  summarizes  M. 

Le  Roy's  resume  of  Bergsonism,  and  shows  the  relation  of  "  the 

new    philosophy "    with    moral    and    religious    problems. The 

Editors  announce  complete  submission  to  the  recent  decree  which 
put  the  issues  of  their  magazine  from  1905-1913  on  the  Index, 
and  they  announce  a  suspension  of  publication  until  next  October. 

Etudes  Franciscaines  (July)  :  P.  Hugues  gives  a  complete  sum- 
mary and  criticism  of  the  Welhausen  theory  as  to  the  composite 
character  of  the  Pentateuch,  and  indicates  the  purpose  and  con- 
cessions of  the  decree  of  the  Biblical  Commission  on  this  subject, 

with  a  glimpse  at  the  recent  attitudes   of   Catholic  critics. 

P.  Hilaire  describes  the  dangers  that  beset  the  Capuchins  of  Paris 
during  the  Commune. 


IRecent  Bvents. 

The  Ministry  of   M.   Barthou  has  proved 
France.  stronger  than  was  at  first  expected.     Owing 

to  its  firmness  in  resisting  the  efforts  of 

the  Socialists  to  weaken  the  proposed  measures  of  defence,  the 
patriotic  sentiment  of  the  country  has  rallied  to  its  support.  The 
opposition  to  the  Three  Years'  Service  Bill  has  not  scrupled  to 
practise  obstruction,  and  has  prolonged  the  debate  by  speeches 
many  hours  in  length.  M.  Jaures,  the  most  conspicuous  opponent 
of  the  bill,  was  expected  to  take  no  less  than  three  days  in  bringing 
forward  his  objections  to  the  measure. 

The  discussion  has  been  the  occasion  of  bringing  to  light  the 
extent  of  the  anti-militarist  propaganda,  and  the  lengths  to  which 
it  has  been  willing  to  go.  In  a  certain  degree  the  working  classes 
are  involved,  that  is,  so  far  as  the  Confederation  of  Labor  is  their 
representative.  This  organization  has  adopted  many  methods  of 
persuading  the  men  serving  their  time  in  the  army  to  desert  the 
ranks,  even  in  the  face  of  the  enemy.  How  large  is  the  number 
of  French  citizens  who  are  willing  to  act  in  this  way  cannot  of 
course  be  exactly  ascertained.  It  is  large  enough,  however,  to 
be  a  real  source  of  danger.  The  government  has  not  hesitated  to 
take  the  most  drastic  of  measures  allowed  by  the  law  for  the  pur- 
pose of  punishing  the  malefactors,  and  in  the  hope  of  preventing 
further  efforts  of  the  same  kind.  Existing  legislation,  however, 
does  not  give  it  the  power  of  dissolving  the  Confederation. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  accuse  the  Socialists,  who  are  opposing 
the  army  bill,  of  complicity  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Anti-Mili- 
tarists. They  are  doubtless  mistaken,  but  the  position  they  take 
is  at  least  a  matter  of  argument.  They  deny  the  need  of  any 
increase  in  the  strength  of  the  army;  or  if  there  is  any  such  a 
necessity,  they  contend  that  it  can  best  be  met  by  the  proper 
execution  of  existing  laws,  and  the  better  utilization  of  the  reserves. 
In  this  way  the  people  would  be  saved  from  the  additional  burden 
which  the  proposal  will  throw  upon  them.  The  extent  of  the 
German  preparations,  and  the  character  of  the  sudden  assault  on 
France  should  Germany  decide  upon  an  attack,  have,  however, 
brought  it  home  to  the  mass  of  the  French  people  that  the  govern- 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  705 

ment  is  right,  and  it  is  felt  to  be  certain  that  the  bill  will  be 
adopted  substantially  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  proposed. 

The  government  has  made  an  effort  to  proceed  with  the  Re- 
form of  the  Electoral  System  which  is  considered  so  necessary. 
The  members  of  the  Chambers  are  now  so  completely  under  the 
control  of  their  constituents,  that  they  dare  not  consider  the  higher 
interests  of  the  country.  The  constituencies  are  small,  and  the 
electors  are  chiefly  bent  upon  the  local  or  even  personal  advantages 
which  they  can  derive  from  the  assistance  of  their  representatives 
in  the  National  Assembly.  The  principal  object  of  the  reform  is 
to  free  the  members  from  this  ignominious  situation  by  making 
the  bodies  that  elect  them  larger.  The  government  has,  however, 
so  far  found  it  impossible  to  reconcile  the  divergent  views  of  the 
House  and  Senate.  The  chief  cause  of  difference  is  the  precise 
way  in  which  to  secure  the  representation  of  minorities. 

One  defeat  the  government  has  suffered,  but  it  was  speedily 
retrieved.  Some  Republican  young  men  wished  to  place  a  wreath 
upon  the  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc;  this  wreath  bore  the  inscription: 
"  Joan  of  Arc,  betrayed  by  her  king  and  burned  by  the  priests." 
The  Director  of  the  Paris  Municipal  Police  refused  to  allow  a 
thing  to  be  done  which  involved  such  a  perversion  of  the  facts. 
For  this  he  was  placed  upon  the  retired  list.  On  further  con- 
sideration, however,  the  Director  was  reinstated.  The  Radicals, 
thereupon,  demanded  explanations,  and  that  the  question  should 
take  the  form  of  an  interpellation.  To  this  the  government  would 
not  consent,  and  on  a  vote  being  taken  were  defeated  by  267  votes 
to  257.  The  Prime  Minister  insisted  upon  an  immediate  debate. 
He  admitted  that  the  retirement  of  M.  Touny,  the  Director  in 
question,  had  been  an  error.  It  had  now  been  rectified.  When 
the  motion  of  censure  was  put  to  the  vote,  confidence  was  ex- 
pressed in  the  government  by  a  substantial  majority. 

The  principal  event  of  the  past  month  has  been  the  visit  to 
England  of  M.  Poincare,  the  President.  The  enthusiastic  reception 
which  he  received  has  convinced  the  two  countries  and  the  whole 
world  that  the  Entente  Cordiale  is  still  a  living  force,  and  the 
pivot  upon  which  the  European  situation  turns.  M.  Pichon,  the 
French  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  accompanied  the  President, 
and  had  a  long  conference  with  Sir  Edward  Grey.  Perfect  agree- 
ment on  all  points  of  international  relations  has,  it  is  announced, 
been  established.  The  war  in  the  Balkans  has  not  rendered  neces- 
sary any  change  in  the  grouping  of  the  Powers. 

VOL.  xcvn .— 45 


7o6  RECENT  EVENTS  [Aug., 

From  time  to  time  reports  of  fighting  between  French  forces 
and  certain  of  the  tribes  in  Morocco  have  appeared.  There  is  still 
a  Pretender  in  the  field,  and  a  few  tribes  are  refractory.  By 
far  the  larger  part  of  the  country  has  acquiesced  in  the  French 
occupation.  In  consequence,  competent  witnesses  assure  us,  the 
old  state  of  barbarity,  corruption,  and  cruelty  has  disappeared,  and 
a  new  era  of  security  and  prosperity  has  been  introduced.  This 
work  has  necessitated  many  sacrifices,  and  may  necessitate  more; 
but  no  doubt  is  now  entertained  of  the  success  of  the  work  of 
civilization  which  France  has  undertaken.  Native  assemblies  are 
being  formed,  schools  are  multiplying,  and  a  judicial  system  is 
being  introduced.  The  army  numbers  fifty  thousand  men. 

A  slight  change  for  the  better  has  taken  place  in  the  vital 
statistics  for  1912.  The  addition  to  the  population  is  about  fifty- 
eight  thousand,  whereas  it  was  the  other  way  in  1911 — the  de- 
crease then  having  been  thirty  thousand.  Births,  however,  have 
only  increased  by  eight  thousand  five  hundred:  the  increase  is 
really  due  to  the  decrease  of  deaths,  which  has  amounted  to  no 
less  than  eighty- four  thousand. 

The  celebration  of  the  centenary  of  the  birthday  of  Frederic 
Ozanam,  may  serve  as  a  reminder  that  there  were  true  sons  of  the 
Church  who  were  pioneers  in  the  social  movements  which  are  dis- 
tinctive of  our  time.  In  his  earliest  years  he  was  touched  by 
the  misery  of  the  working  classes,  their  unproductive  toil,  their 
aimless  lives.  For  their  relief  and  uplifting  he  was  able  to  form 
a  fraternity  which,  beginning  with  seven  in  1832,  numbers  at  the 
present  time  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  members. 

The  celebration  of  the  completion  of  the 
Germany.  twenty-fifth  year  of  the  Emperor's  reign 

gave  rise  to  many  manifestations  of  the 

satisfaction  of  the  German  people.  It  is  generally  felt  that  he 
has  in  a  good  sense  disappointed  expectations.  From  his  demeanor 
and  temperament  at  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  the  fear  was  great 
and  widespread  that  he  was  bent  on  war;  and  yet  peace  has  not 
once  been  broken.  Pope  Leo  XIII.  is  reported  to  have  said :  "  He 
will  come  to  a  bad  end;  he  is  an  unclutiful  son;"  and  yet  he  has 
proved  himself  a  faithful  husband,  and  a  good  father.  He  is 
autocratic  and  domineering;  and  yet  during  his  reign  the  German 
people  have  passed  from  a  more  or  less  feudal  system  to  a  con- 
dition where,  to  a  large  extent,  democracy  controls,  and  com- 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  707 

mercial  and  industrial  interests  predominate;  and  however  re- 
pugnant to  the  Emperor's  feeling  this  may  have  been,  he  has  never 
come  into  conflict  with  the  will  of  the  people.  He  has,  in  fact,  been 
one  of  the  first  to  promote  the  social  reforms  which  have  become 
in  every  country  characteristic  of  our  times;  and  yet  so  little  has 
this  been  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  German  people,  that  one  in 
every  three  is  a  Social  Democrat.  The  one  jarring  note,  indeed, 
was  the  abstention  of  that  part  in  the  Reichstag  along  with  the 
Poles  from  being  present  at  the  Jubilee  celebration.  He  found  Ger- 
many at  his  accession  in  the  possession  of  the  greatest  army  in  the 
world;  he  has  been  the  cause  of  her  now  being  one  of  the  great  sea 
powers.  When  he  began  his  reign,  Germany  was,  indeed,  the 
most  powerful  nation  on  the  Continent  of  Europe;  she  is  now  a 
power,  with  possessions  in  every  part  of  the  old  world. 

At  one  of  the  chief  celebrations  an  interesting  disclosure  was 
made.  At  the  University  of  Berlin  a  lecture  was  given  by  the 
Professor  of  History,  Dr.  Hintze,  of  which  the  position  of  Ger- 
many in  the  world  and  the  way  in  which  it  had  been  reached 
was  the  theme.  The  professor  went  on  to  say  that  the  idea  of 
social  justice  was  the  necessary  complement  of  world  power,  and 
claimed  that  it  was  this  idea  of  social  justice  that  had  guided 
the  Emperor  throughout  his  reign.  The  conclusion  of  the  pro- 
fessor was  that  the  true  aim  of  a  State  could  only  be  realized 
by  means  of  democratic  institutions  under  a  monarchical  govern- 
ment. No  one  was  less  inclined  than  the  present  Emperor,  he  said, 
to  govern  in  a  sense  contrary  to  the  Constitution.  This  he  showed 
by  the  following  incident.  It  was  by  Frederick  William  IV.  that 
the  Constitution  was  given  to  Prussia.  He  was,  however,  much 
opposed  to  it ;  -but  his  conscience  not  being  elastic  enough  to  allow 
him  to  break  the  oath  which  he  had  taken,  he  left  a  sealed  docu- 
ment to  be  opened  by  his  successors,  charging  them  to  reverse  the 
Constitution  before  the  oath  was  taken.  This  injunction  was  not 
listened  to,  on  their  accession,  by  William  I.  or  Frederick,  the  inter- 
vening sovereigns.  When  it  came  in  due  course  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  present  Emperor,  not  only  had  he  no  thought  of  complying 
with  it,  but  he  ordered  the  testament  of  his  ancestor  to  be  destroyed, 
so  that  it  might  be  impossible  in  the  future  for  some  young  and 
inexperienced  ruler  to  be  influenced  by  it.  He  said  to  Dr.  Hintze : 
"  From  the  moment  I  saw  the  document  I  felt  as  if  I  had  a  barrel 
of  gunpowder  in  my  house,  and  I  had  no  peace  until  the  testament 
was  destroyed." 


7o8  RECENT  EVENTS  [Aug., 

The  proposals  of  the  government  for  the  increase  of  the  army 
have  been  accepted  by  the  Reichstag  without  any  substantial  change. 
The  way  of  raising  the  money  to  pay  for  this  increase  has  met 
with  greater  modifications,  although  in  this  case,  too,  no  substantial 
change  has  been  made.  Even  the  mediaeval  plan  of  seizing  upon 
a  portion  of  the  capital  of  the  subject  for  the  service  of  the  State 
has  been  accepted  by  the  Budget  Committee,  although  it  was  modi- 
fied by  graduating  the  amount  to  be  taken  according  to  the  amount 
of  the  property  in  which  the  levy  is  to  be  made.  It  is  for  the 
non-recurring  expense  involved  in  the  increase  of  the  army  that 
this  levy  is  taken.  For  the  recurring  additional  expense  the  Reich- 
stag agreed  upon  a  method  which  is  called  by  the  Conservatives 
a  breach  of  the  Constitution  of  the  Empire,  involving,  as  it  is 
asserted,  the  assumption  of  a  right  not  given  by  it  to  the  Central 
authority  to  tax  property  directly  in  the  several  States.  A  strange 
coalition  of  the  Centre  and  Liberals  with  the  Social  Democrats 
carried  this  proposal,  in  which  the  government  acquiesced. 


Another  misfortune  has  befallen  the  Dual 
Austria-Hungary.      Monarchy.      When    Austria    was    holding 

Italy  in  subjection,  it  tried  to  effect  its  pur- 
pose by  a  system  of  spies.  Upon  the  spies,  too,  there  were  spies, 
and  upon  these  yet  another  set.  The  same  system  is  still  in  exist- 
ence in  the  Austrian  as  in  other  armies.  It  cannot,  however,  be 
continued  indefinitely,  for  there  must  be  a  beginning.  In  this  case 
the  one  at  the  top,  an  officer  on  the  Chief  Staff  of  the  Army, 
has  confessed  himself  to  have  been  guilty  of  having  sold  to  Russia, 
on  the  eve  of  what  looked  like  a  war  between  the  two  countries, 
the  plans  for  the  cooperation  of  the  Austro-Hungarian  and  Ger- 
man armies.  For  fourteen  years  this  staff  officer,  it  is  said,  had 
been  in  the  service  of  Russia,  protecting  her  spies  in  Austria, 
and  giving  to  Russia  full  information  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
Austrian  spies.  Russia  by  this  means  had  been  placed  in  posses- 
sion of  every  important  military  document.  Nor  was  it  to  the 
Austrian  plans  alone  that  his  revelations  were  confined,  the  close 
cooperation  which  has  of  late  existed  between  Germany  and  Austria 
having  given  him  access  to  the  plans  for  their  common  military 
action.  The  extent  of  this  on  the  part  of  the  delinquent  is  not, 
however,  certain.  No  wonder  that  there  was  a  feeling  of  dismay 
in  Austria  in  the  public  and  the  army  at  the  discovery  that  the 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  709 

Russian  military  authorities  have  been,  by  the  treason  of  an 
Austrian  officer,  placed  in  a  position  to  parry  every  blow  that 
Austria  and  perhaps  Germany  would  have  struck  had  the  war  re- 
cently threatened  actually  broken  out.  Never  during  his  whole 
life,  it  is  stated,  has  the  Emperor  manifested  so  much  indignation. 
If  this  manifestation  of  the  demoralizing  effects  of  the  system  of 
espionage  should  lead  to  its  abolition,  it  would,  indeed,  be  an 
instance  of  good  springing  from  evil.  But  this  is  more  than  can 
be  hoped  for.  It  may,  however,  lead  to  less  reliance  being  placed 
upon  it,  and  to  a  search  at  least  for  some  better  way. 

In  Hungary,  too,  the  moral  sense  of  the  country  has  been 
shocked,  although  in  a  somewhat  different  manner.  In  this  case  it  is 
the  Parliament  and  government  that  are  at  fault.  The  opposition 
has  found  no  other  way  of  doing  its  work  than  by  adoption  of 
the  most  defiant  methods  of  obstruction.  To  this  the  government 
has  replied  by  the  use  of  force.  Soldiers  and  police  have  been 
placed  in  control  to  such  an  extent,  that  finally  the  opposition  with- 
drew altogether.  This  in  one  form  or  another  has  been  going  on 
for  more  than  a  year. 

To  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  opposition,  a  recent  trial  in 
a  court  of  law  has  brought  the  head  of  the  government,  Dr.  de 
Lukacs,  to  the  ground.  Its  result  was  to  show  that  he  had  been 
guilty  of  corrupt  practices  in  giving  privileges  to  a  bank,  the  con- 
sideration for  which  was  money  paid  into  the  funds  of  the  gov- 
ernment party.  Great  rejoicing  was  felt  at  the  condemnation 
thereby  given  of  the  odious  practices  which  have  been  character- 
istic of  his  government.  The  rejoicing,  however,  was  mitigated 
when  the  chief  agent  of  the  violent  treatment  accorded  to  the 
opposition  was  called  upon  to  form  a  new  government.  This  was 
Count  Tisza,  said  to  be  a  rigid  Calvinist,  who  as  President  of  the 
Chamber,  has,  up  to  the  present  time,  made  use  of  the  violent 
measures  by  which  the  opposition  was  suppressed.  The  result  of 
the  change,  therefore,  is  to  leave  things  as  they  were;  for  scarcely 
any  alteration  has  been  made  in  the  Cabinet.  It  will  be  hard  in- 
deed for  the  Tisza  Cabinet  to  have  a  worse  record  than  that  of  the 
one  it  has  replaced.  The  Lukacs  regime  has  been  responsible  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  Cuvaj  dictatorship  in  Croatia ;  for  the  pass- 
ing of  an  iniquitious  Suffrage  Reform  Bill;  for  many  acts  of  ad- 
ministration oppression;  for  not  only  securing  the  election  of  its 
own  supporters  by  bribery  and  violence,  but  also  for  preventing 
the  return  by  the  same  means  of  prominent  representatives  of 


7io  RECENT  EVENTS  [Aug., 

non-Magyar  nationality.  It  has  earned  for  the  Magyar  State 
the  implacable  hatred  of  both  the  Rumanians  and  Serbo-Croatians 
within  the  Empire,  and  has  done  great  harm  to  the  foreign  rela- 
tions of  the  monarchy. 

The  soul  of  the  Italians  has  been  vexed  in  a 
Italy.  twofold  way  by  the  Palace  of  Justice,  which 

has  at  last  been  brought  to  completion.     In 

the  first  place  the  building  has  proved  an  eyesore  to  their  sense  of 
beauty,  being  monstrous  and  hideous.  In  the  second  place,  the 
contractors  have  reaped  enormous  profits — as  much  it  is  declared 
as  thirty  per  cent,  and  this  with  the  connivance  of  certain  members 
of  the  Chambers.  At  least  this  was  the  report  of  a  commission 
appointed  to  examine  into  the  question.  The  justice  and  accuracy 
of  this  report  were  indeed  called  in  question,  and  have  been  the 
subject  of  long  and  acrimonious  debates  in  the  Chambers.  In  the 
end  two  or  three  members  resigned.  It  is  yet  to  be  seen  whether 
or  no  further  action  will  be  taken. 

The  Freemasons,  to  whom  for  the  establishment  of  the  king- 
dom Italy  is  so  much  indebted,  must  now  be  feeling  how  true  is 
the  old  proverb  about  the  ingratitude  of  man.  Some  little  time  ago 
the  Minister  of  War,  General  Spingardi,  speaking  before  the  Senate 
declared  that  it  was  not  only  desirable,  but  a  matter  of  duty,  that 
no  member  of  the  military  service  should  belong  to  a  secret  associa- 
tion. This  public  manifestation  of  his  views  was  to  be  taken,  he 
said,  as  a  warning  to  all  who  had  doubts  on  the  subject.  The 
same  views  were  expressed  by  the  Minister  of  Marine,  Admiral 
Cattolica.  These  utterances  met  with  the  complete  assent  of  the 
Senate,  being  received  with  loud  applause.  The  Liberal  Press, 
even  the  organs  of  the  Extreme  Left,  uttered  no  word  of  protest. 
All  secret  societies  have  at  last  been  banned,  no  single  voice  being 
raised  in  their  defence.  The  Press  is  warning  all  officers  not  to 
enter  the  ranks  of  Freemasonry  in  particular,  and  calling  upon 
those  who  are  already  members  to  leave  the  association  at  once. 
The  reason  for  this  condemnation  is  the  belief  that  its  members 
are  banded  together  for  the  selfish  purpose  of  promoting  one  an- 
other's interest.  This  belief  is  so  strong  that  the  public  in  general 
is  not  satisfied  that  the  government  is  acting  severely  enough  against 
Freemasonry.  They  fear  that  its  activity  is  not  confined  to  the 
army  and  navy,  but  that  the  Civil  Services  as  well  are  subject  to 
its  influences.  No  regard  is  now  paid  by  the  public  voice  to  the 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  711 

services  admitted  to  have  been  rendered  in  the  past.  Its  day  is 
over.  Freemasonry  is  an  obsolete  instrument. 

The  peaceful  possession  of  Tripoli  has  not  yet  been  secured; 
news  comes  of  conflicts,  generally  of  Italian  successes,  in  one  or  two 
cases  of  reverses.  The  good  faith  of  Turkey  is  being  called  in 
question;  it  is  asserted  that  not  a  few  soldiers  of  the  regular  army 
of  Turkey  are  taking  part  with  the  Arabs  in  contesting  the  Italian 
rule.  A  reason  is  thus  given  for  Italy's  retaining  the  possession  of 
the  ^Egean  islands  which  were  seized  during  the  war. 

Affairs  in  Spain  are  in  more  confusion  than 
Spain.  usual.  Within  the  short  space  of  a  fort- 

night, Count  Romanones,  the  successor  of 

Senor  Canalejas,  gave  in  his  resignation,  and  in  each  case  was 
asked  by  the  King  to  continue  to  hold  the  reins.  The  cause  of  the 
first  resignation  was  the  refusal  of  the  leader  of  the  opposition, 
Senor  Maura,  to  continue  the  normal  functions  of  his  position.  In 
Spain  there  has  long  been  a  well-recognized  system  of  rotation 
between  the  two  parties.  This  is  not  of  the  sordid  corrupt  char- 
acter which  has  ruined  Portugal,  but  it  springs  rather  from  a 
recognition  of  the  duty  of  the  other  side  to  bear  the  burden  of 
governing  the  country.  The  Liberal  government  of  Count  Ro- 
manones had  by  and  with  the  consent  of  the  King  entered  into 
relations  with  the  Republican  Party.  This  was  considered  so  great 
a  departure  from  the  old  understanding  between  the  Liberals  and 
Conservatives,  that  the  leader  of  the  latter  refused  further  coopera- 
tion. The  King,  however,  would  not  accept  the  resignation  of 
Count  Romanones.  The  reason  for  the  King's  action  seems  to  be 
the  fear  of  revolution  in  the  event  of  Senor  Maura's  return  to 
office.  His  methods  of  governing  are  so  detested  by  large  num- 
bers of  the  Spanish  people,  that  his  recall  might  be  the  signal  for 
an  uprising. 

No  sooner,  however,  had  Count  Romanones  resumed  the  Pre- 
miership, than  want  of  confidence  was  manifested  among  his  own 
followers.  Again  he  resigned,  and  a  second  time  was  he  called 
upon  to  return.  On  his  so  doing,  he  adjourned  the  Cortes,  a 
step  which  has  excited  more  extended  dissatisfaction.  What  will 
be  the  end  of  it  all  remains  to  be  seen. 

Another  war  in  Morocco  seems  to  be  imminent.  The  Moors 
for  the  most  part  have  acquiesced  in  the  rule  of  the  French,  but 
for  that  of  Spain  a  large  number  living  in  the  zone  now  under 


;i2  RECENT  EVENTS  [Aug., 

its  control  have  manifested  implacable  hostility.  They  have  risen 
in  large  numbers,  and  the  Spanish  government  has  had  to  send 
a  large  force  to  suppress  the  movement.  Riots  have  consequently 
taken  place  in  Barcelona,  where  the  war  is  most  unpopular. 

The  state  of  things  in  the  Balkans  is  so  dis- 
The  Balkans.          gusting  that  the  temptation  is  strong  to  ig- 
nore the  whole  matter.     No  one  knows  the 

real  position,  still  less  what  will  be  the  outcome.  The  latest  report 
is  that  the  Turks  are  on  the  move  to  recover  their  lost  possessions, 
and  that  they  have  found  an  ally  in  Rumania.  Bad  as  things  are, 
this  is  the  worst  that  could  happen;  unless  perchance  it  should 
bring  on  the  European  war  which  has  been  so  far  averted. 

The  way  in  which  was  formed  what  has  proved  so  short- 
lived a  union  of  the  Balkan  States  and  Greece,  has  at  last  been  re- 
vealed. The  initiative  came  from  the  statesman  who  averted  in 
1909  a  revolution  in  Greece — M.  Venezelos.  A  previous  attempt  to 
bring  about  some  kind  of  cooperation  had  been  made  in  1891  by  an- 
other Greek  statesman,  M.  Tricoupis,  without  success,  however.  The 
atrocities  committed  by  the  Young  Turks  in  Macedonia  led  M.  Vene- 
zelos in  April,  1911,  to  propose  to  M.  Gueshoff,  then  head  of  the 
Bulgarian  government,  that  Greece  and  Bulgaria  should  cooperate 
to  put  pressure  on  Turkey  in  defence  of  the  Christians  who  were 
being  exterminated  in  Macedonia.  There  was  no  thought  of  mak- 
ing war  against  Turkey,  nor  at  the  moment  of  any  other  alliance. 
The  negotiations  were  conducted  so  secretly  that  only  two  persons 
in  Greece — the  King  and  M.  Venezelos — knew  what  was  being 
done ;  the  diplomatic  world  knew  nothing.  Equal  secrecy  was  main- 
tained in  Bulgaria.  The  negotiations  were  protracted  so  long 
that  it  was  not  until  May,  1912,  that  a  treaty  was  signed.  In  fact 
Servia  and  Bulgaria  were  able  to  come  to  an  agreement  before  that 
between  Greece  and  Bulgaria  was  definitely  made. 

The  treaty,  as  has  been  said,  was  not  made  with  a  view  to  the 
making  of  war  against  Turkey.  On  the  contrary,  the  peace  of  the 
Balkan  Peninsula  was  its  declared  object,  and  war  was  to  come 
only  in  self-defence.  Nothing  was  to  be  done  to  provoke  hos- 
tilities; in  fact  the  maintenance  of  good  relations  with  the  Otto- 
man Empire  was  one  of  its  express  objects.  The  chief  end  of 
the  treaty  was  to  bind  the  two  States  to  exert  their  moral  influence 
over  the  kindred  populations  in  Turkey,  to  induce  them  to  con- 
tribute sincerely  to  the  peaceful  co-existence  of  the  elements  con- 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  713 

stituting  the  population  of  the  Empire.  Force  was  only  to  be 
resorted  to  in  case  of  the  unprovoked  aggression  of  Turkey. 

The  negotiations  between  Bulgaria  and  Servia  were  begun  later, 
but  came  to  a  conclusion  earlier,  than  those  between  Greece  and 
Bulgaria.  A  treaty  between  the  two  first-named  Powers  was  made 
on  the  1 3th  of  March,  1912.  This  is  the  treaty  the  provisions  of 
which  have  formed  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  the  existing  quarrel. 
It  followed  the  same  lines  as  that  between  Greece  and  Bulgaria. 
The  alliance  was  to  be  of  a  purely  defensive  character,  all  aggres- 
sive action  against  Turkey  was  to  be  abstained  from;  but  the  two 
governments  were  to  help  each  other  in  protecting  their  fellow 
countrymen  in  the  Ottoman  Empire  in  the  enjoyment  of  their 
rights.  This  treaty,  however,  went  further  than  that  between 
Greece  and  Bulgaria,  for  it  made  definite  arrangements  for  the 
partition  of  Macedonia  between  Servia  and  Bulgaria  in  the  event 
of  a  successful  war  with  Turkey.  It  is  these  proposals  that  have 
led  to  the  unhappy  conflict  that  is  now  going  on.  The  last  link 
of  the  chain  which  bound  the  Balkan  States  together  was  the  ad- 
hesion of  the  King  of  Montenegro.  In  this  case  no  definite  treaty 
seems  to  have  been  signed,  such  as  those  between  Bulgaria  and 
Greece,  and  Bulgaria  and  Servia — there  was  only  a  mutual  entente, 
at  least  at  first.  In  September,  1912,  however,  just  before  the 
war  broke  out,  an  alliance  was  formed  with  Servia.  Although 
the  last  to  join,  the  King  of  Montenegro  was  the  first  to  enter 
upon  hostilities  and  the  last  to  bring  them  to  a  close — if  they  have 
been  brought  to  a  close.  It  seemed,  too,  as  if  he  had  gained  the 
least  advantage  from  the  war,  but  it  is  too  early  to  say,  things 
being  as  they  are  at  present. 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  has  never  been  formed  that  formal 
Confederation  of  the  Balkan  States  of  which  so  much  has  been 
heard,  nor  was  a  deliberate  purpose  cherished  of  making  war,  still 
less  of  driving  Turkey  out  of  Europe.  The  war  was  forced  upon 
the  Allies,  and  the  unlooked-for  weakness  of  Turkey  was  one  of 
the  chief  factors  in  their  success.  This  success  intoxicated  them, 
and  revived  in  each  of  the  nationalities  that  perennial  animosity 
towards  one  another  which  it  has  been  Turkey's  policy  to  cherish 
for  the  past  five  hundred  years,  and  which  of  late  has  been  the 
only  condition  of  the  existence  of  its  domination.  These  animos- 
ities have  proved  too  strong  to  be  conquered  by  a  few  months 
cooperation,  and  when  it  became  necessary  to  divide  the  territory, 
not  one  of  the  States  was  ready  to  make  the  required  sacrifices. 


714  RECENT  EVENTS  [Aug., 

For  sacrifices  were  necessary  on  the  part  of  each  State,  if  any 
partition  was  to  be  reached,  the  various  nationalities  being  mingled 
one  with  another  in  all  parts,  and  to  no  one  State  could  pos- 
sibly be  given  merely  its  own  nationals. 

The  evil  spirit  of  the  whole  trouble  has  been  Austria.  It  was 
her  action  that  forced  Europe  for  the  sake  of  peace  to  form  the  new 
State  of  Albania.  The  formation  of  this  State  deprived  Servia  of  a 
part  of  her  conquests,  and  shut  her  off  from  any  part  of  her  own  on 
the  Adriatic.  She  sought,  in  consequence,  a  compensation  from  Bul- 
garia and  a  modification  of  the  Treaty  of  March,  1812.  To  this 
Bulgaria  would  not  listen,  and  held  Servia  to  the  strict  letter  of 
that  contract.  This  cut  Servia  off  from  the  ^Egean  as  well  as 
from  the  Adriatic.  She  was  left  as  much  isolated  as  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war.  To  this  she  would  not  consent,  was  unwilling, 
as  it  was  put,  to  stand  in  the  relation  to  Bulgaria  that  Bavaria  stands 
to  Prussia.  Russia  tried  to  intervene,  but  no  terms  at  first  could 
be  found  as  a  basis  for  arbitration — Bulgaria  insisting  on  the 
treaty  being  taken  as  its  basis,  while  Servia  insisted  on  its  being  set 
aside  altogether.  Just  before  the  hostilities  broke  out  between  the 
two  States,  it  was  stated  that  the  difficulties  had  been  removed,  and 
that  Russian  arbitration  had  been  accepted  by  the  two  States. 
The  clash  of  arms,  however,  has  set  all  this  on  one  side. 

It  is  hard  to  decide  which  of  the  States  is  responsible  for 
the  conflict  which  is  now  raging.  All  are  more  or  less  guilty,  but 
it  seems  as  if  Bulgaria  is  the  one  chiefly  to  be  blamed.  She  has 
insisted  upon  strict  adherence  to  the  letter  of  a  treaty 
made  in  quite  different  circumstances,  has  been  aggressive  and 
overbearing,  claiming  the  right  to  settle  with  each  of  the  Allies 
separately  what  each  shall  receive,  instead  of  by  a  mutual  agree- 
ment made  in  a  conference.  By  so  doing  she  has  incurred  the 
enmity  of  the  rest  of  the  Allies,  and  now  Rumania  has  taken  ad- 
vantage of  Bulgaria  to  secure  further  "  compensation  "  than  that 
which  she  has  already  received.  If  Bulgaria  has  acted  in  so  proud 
a  way,  some  little  consolation  may  be  found  in  a  doleful  situation, 
in  the  fact  that  she  has  been  defeated  by  both  Servia  and  Greece, 
and  has  had  to  appeal  to  Russia  for  protection. 

The  assassination  of  the  Grand  Vizier  Mah- 

Turkey.  mud  Shevket  Pasha  has  been  followed  by 

the  arrest  of  a  large  number  of  persons, 

and  the  banishment  of  a  still  larger  number.     Of  those  arrested, 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  7*5 

twelve  have  been  hanged  in  the  presence  of  a  large  crowd.  Their 
trial  was  not  conducted  in  a  way  to  inspire  confidence  in  its  fair- 
ness. The  prisoners  were  not  permitted  to  call  witnesses  in  their 
defence,  nor  were  they  allowed  the  services  of  an  advocate.  All 
the  proceedings  took  place  behind  closed  doors.  Newspapers  were 
allowed  to  circulate  reports  clearly  designed  to  prejudice  the  case 
in  the  eyes  of  the  public.  In  fact,  political  animosity,  and  not  the 
love  of  justice,  was  clearly  manifested.  There  are  those  who  fear 
that  these  proceedings  are  a  prelude  to  a  period  of  revolutionary 
violence  and  bloodshed.  The  reason  for  the  assassination  is  not 
certainly  known;  there  is  ground  to  think,  however,  that  it 
was  an  act  of  revenge  on  the  part  of  army  officers  for  the  assassina- 
tion of  the  Commander-in-Chief,  Nazin  Pasha.  The  new  Premier 
is  a  member  of  the  Committee  of  Union  and  Progress,  and  therefore 
no  change  has  taken  place  in  the  character  of  the  administration. 
What  Turkey's  future  will  be  no  one  can  guess.  The  Powers 
profess  the  strong  desire,  based  on  their  selfish  interests,  that  its 
power  in  Asia  may  be  maintained  in  strength  and  vigor.  But  it 
seems  likely  that  the  Near  Eastern  question  which  has  so  long  been 
a  source  of  anxiety,  will  be  changed  into  one  only  a  little  farther 
East.  Whether  or  no  there  is  any  truth  in  the  statement  that  Turkey 
is  taking  advantage  of  the  struggle  between  the  Balkan  States 
to  regain  her  lost  possessions  in  Europe,  cannot,  at  the  time  that 
these  lines  are  being  written,  be  ascertained. 


With  Our  Readers. 


T^REEMASONRY  is  anti-patriotic.  It  seeks  its  own  advancement, 
1  and  the  welfare  of  its  members,  first ;  and  to  both  it  subordinates 
the  welfare  of  the  nation.  The  anti-patriotic  spirit  of  Masonry  is 
now  arousing  the  spirit  of  the  Italian  people,  and  the  Italian  press, 
even  where  there  is  no  clerical  sympathy  whatever.  The  absolute 
incompatability  of  Masonry  and  military  discipline  has  been  shown 
lately  by  such  journals  as  the  Tribuna  and  //  Corriere  della  Sera. 
The  defence  and  security  of  the  country,  they  realize,  rest  upon  the 
discipline  and  fidelity  of  the  army.  Both  are  being  undermined  by 
the  secret  workings  of  the  Masonic  society.  As  stated  in  the  Recent 
Events  of  this  issue  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD,  the  present  Italian 
Minister  of  War,  in  a  speech  delivered  on  May  I3th,  laid  stress  upon 
the  impossibility  of  any  army  officer,  who  is  a  member  of  a  secret 
society,  being  faithful  to  his  duty;  he  hoped  that  his  words  would 
stand  as  a  warning;  and  he  declared  that  measures  would  be  taken 
against  all  officers  who  place  their  obligations  as  Masons  before  their 
duty  as  soldiers.  In  spite  of  his  public  declaration,  the  good  faith  of 
the  Minister  may  be  questioned,  for  his  own  attitude  towards  the 
Masons,  such  is  their  power,  has  been  a  favorable  one.  But  public 
opinion  is  against  the  Masons — and  so  publicly  the  government  Min- 
isters must  always  wear  an  innocent  face.  Masonry  in  Italy  uses 
the  government,  the  army,  and  the  navy;  the  schools,  public  institu- 
tions, and  works  of  all  kind  to  advance  its  own  cause  and  its  own 
influence.  It  constantly  and  secretly  propagates  the  notion,  that  the 
influence  of  Masonry  is  an  easy  and  sure  way  to  secure  promotion. 
In  payment  for  such  promotion,  fidelity  to  Masonic  plans  and  aims; 
securing  contracts  for  fellow  Masons;  recommending  in  turn  fellow 
Masons  for  promotion;  political  support  and  propaganda  to  have 
Masons  appointed  to  high  office,  until  the  body  political  and  social 
is  honeycombed  by  this  secret  selfish  influence  of  a  secret,  unpatriotic 
society  of  self-seekers.  The  infiltration  of  Masonry  in  the 
army  in  Italy  constitutes  a  great  national  danger.  Freemasonry, 
because  of  its  secrecy  and  its  selfishness,  is  unpatriotic.  And  for 
the  irreligious  and  unpatriotic  propaganda  carried  on  in  France  by 
the  Freemasons,  we  would  refer  our  readers  to  a  pamphlet  lately 
published  by  the  Catholic  Truth  Society  of  Ireland,  entitled  Free- 
masonry and  the  Church  of  France,  by  Sir  Henry  Bellingham. 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  7*7 

SPAIN  is  often  spoken  of  by  those  who  do  not  know  as  a  country 
very  backward  in  all  that  concerns  modern  physical  comfort  and 
material  well-being.     Clement  K.  Shorter  writes  in  the  London  Sphere 
a  letter  that  will  be  a  great  surprise  to  many: 


T  ET  no  one  be  deterred  from  traveling  in  Spain  by  fears  that  are 
JL/  constantly  held  over  one  of  the  indifferent  railway  accommodation 
or  of  the  deficiency  in  hotels.  The  traveler  who  desires  it  may  lunch 
and  dine  and  sleep  with  all  the  luxury  that  he  can  obtain  in  London  at 
the  Ritz,  the  Carlton,  or  the  Savoy.  There  is  one  hotel  in  Madrid,  for 
example — the  Palace  Hotel — which  has  six  hundred  bedrooms,  each  of 
them  with  a  bathroom,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  it  covers 
an  area  equal  to  any  two  of  the  largest  hotels  in  London.  Then 
there  is  a  beautiful  hotel  at  Granada,  the  Alhambra  Palace,  in  which 
I  recall  a  perfect  view  over  the  town  from  its  every  window.  Yet 
another  hotel  at  Ronda  has  a  magnificent  view  down  unforgettable 
precipices,  and  still  another  at  Algeciras  has  a  garden  always  in  flower, 
always  in  perfect  foliage — and  a  superb  view  of  Gibraltar  in  the  near 
distance  from  every  window. 

*  *  *  * 

QUITE  apart  from  these  magnificent  caravansaries,  the  visitor  who 
desires  a  more  homely  Spain  will  now  find  in  every  town  hotels 
of  a  secondary  character,  in  which  he  will  enjoy  the  novelties  of 
Spanish  life  and  Spanish  cooking.  This  is  a  sordid  aspect  of  the 
subject,  and  equally  material  is  any  reference  to  railways.  Even 
here,  however,  something  should  be  said,  and  the  would-be  traveler 
requires  to  be  reminded  that  the  International  Car  Company  runs  its 
sleeping  cars  and  its  restaurant  cars  to  every  important  city  in  Spain, 
while  to  those  who  wish  to  take  a  daylight  journey  the  very  slowness 
of  the  train  has  its  own  charm.  What  matter  that  the  guard  and  the 
stationmaster  will  hold  long  conversations  with  one  another  with  a 
splendid  indifference  to  time  tables?  The  traveler  from  his  carriage 
window  may  enjoy  many  picturesque  experiences.  Children  will 
sell  him  oranges  which  have  a  quite  different  flavor  to  the  palate 
than  the  same  fruit  when  transported  to  another  country,  and  there 
are  many  little  things  to  pass  the  time,  particularly  in  gay-hearted 
Andalusia. 

*  *  *  * 

LET  us  hear  no  more  of  the  old  story,  of  which  the  writings  of 
Washington  Irving  are  largely  responsible,  of  Spain  as  a  place 
where  the  hotel  and  traveling  accommodation  is  bad.     In  one  respect, 
indeed,  it  will  hold  its  own  with  any  country  to-day — in  its  extra- 
ordinary cleanliness.     We  note  that  particularly  in  the  children  with 


;i8  WITH  OUR  READERS  [Aug., 

their  chubby  arms  and  legs.  Murillo  children  are  around  you  at  every 
turn,  and  beautiful  children  they  are.  Many  of  them  might  have 
stepped  gaily  out  of  that  great  painter's  canvases.  I  will  not  weary 
my  reader  by  going  over  familiar  ground  and  tell  of  my  visit  to 
Burgos,  with  its  splendid  cathedral;  to  Madrid  with  its  wonderful 
Velasquez  pictures;  to  Seville,  the  city  of  beautiful  women,  always 
hatless,  but  with  the  rose  in  the  hair  and  the  fan  in  the  hand,  with  which 
a  thousand  artists  have  familiarized  us;  to  Seville  with  its  Passeo 
de  las  Delicias  so  splendidly  reminiscent  of  the  joy  of  living. 


WHAT  could  be  said  of  Granada  to-day  that  would  possess  any 
novelty — that  city  of  the  famous  Moorish  palace  and  of  the 
equally  interesting  Moorish  towers?  What  of  Ronda,  or  Toledo,  or 
Cordova — all  of  them  full  of  pleasant  memories?  How  beautiful, 
indeed,  are  the  cathedrals  of  Spain ;  but  assuredly  the  most  wonderful 
of  all  is  that  of  Cordova,  once  a  Moorish  mosque.  Its  hundreds  of 
graceful  columns  remain  in  one's  mind  for  ever — even  after  a  single 
visit. 


DR.  ROBERT  BRIDGES,  who  has  just  been  appointed  Poet  Laure- 
ate of  England,  is,  as  our  readers  will  remember,  the  editor  of  the 
poems  of  Digby  Dolben.    A  critical  article  on  Dr.  Bridges'  editing 
and  Dolben's  poems  was  contributed  by  Louise  Imogen  Guiney  to  the 
September,  1912,  issue  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD. 


MANY  questions  of  great  importance  were  discussed  by  the  ex- 
perienced members  of  the  Catholic  Educational  Convention,  held 
during  the  first  week  of  July  in  New  Orleans.  The  questions  that 
received  most  attention  were  that  of  free  parochial  schools,  and  free 
textbooks;  vocational  training;  and  the  need  of  a  greater  number 
of  male  teachers  in  our  Catholic  schools.  It  was  generally  agreed  that 
in  the  earlier  years  of  childhood  female  teachers  were  the  better  fitted, 
but  that  after  the  eighth  grade  male  teachers  should  be  employed. 
The  danger  of  effeminization  was  emphasized. 

Among  the  resolutions  passed  by  the  Convention  are  the  following : 

As  Catholic  educators  we  pledge  ourselves  to  renewed  efforts,  under  the 
direction  of  ecclesiastical  authority  to  the  service  of  Church  and  country  in 
the  grand  cause  of  Christian  education.  We  regard  this  work  of  religious 
education  as  one  on  which  the  future  welfare  of  our  nation  depends. 

We  call  attention  to  the  great  waste  of  public  funds,  and  the  evil  of  the 
constantly  increasing  burden  of  taxation.  This  extravagance  has  resulted  largely 
from  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  the  State  to  do  for  children  what  should  be 
done  for  them  by  parents,  and  to  do  for  the  citizen  what  he  should  do  for 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  719 

himself.  Let  the  State  urge  and  encourage  the  citizen  to  care  for  his  chil- 
dren, but  let  it  not  place  unjust  burdens  on  those  who,  at  great  sacrifice,  are 
discharging  this  primal  duty  of  parenthood.  Let  the  State  cherish  the  idea  of 
parental  responsibility  as  one  of  the  foundation  stones  of  American  freedom. 

As  there  seems  to  be  a  general  agreement  among  educators  that  pupils 
entering  the  secondary  schools  from  the  eighth  grade  are  too  far  advanced 
in  age,  and  that  secondary  education  should  begin  at  or  about  the  age  of 
twelve,  we  may  be  able  to  begin  their  high  school  course  after  the  completion 
of  six  years  of  elementary  work. 

Whereas,  Liberty  of  education  has  always  been  recognized  in  our  country 
as  a  basic  principle;  and 

Whereas,  The  right  of  the  parents  to  educate  is  one  of  those  fundamental 
rights  which  can  not  without  injustice  be  interfered  with;  and 

Whereas,  The  continued  recognition  of  this  right  is  essential  to  the 
preservation  of  a  most  cherished  prerogative  of  American  citizenship;  be  it 

Resolved,  That  the  Catholic  Educational  Association  objects  to  any  en- 
croachment on  this  right  to  liberty  of  education;  be  it  further 

Resolved,  That  the  Catholic  Educational  Association  views  with  alarm  the 
activities  of  certain  individuals  and  corporations  whose  utterances  and  efforts 
threaten  to  interfere  with  the  just  liberties  of  private  educational  institutions. 

Whereas,  The  Council  of  Education  of  the  American  Medical  Association 
has  elicited  the  aid  of  the  Carnegie  Foundation  in  the  examination  and  classifi- 
cation of  hospitals;  and 

Whereas,  Said  Carnegie  Foundation  has  shown  a  spirit  antagonistic  to 
institutions  under  religious  control;  and 

Whereas,  There  are  more  than  five  hundred  hospitals  in  the  United  States 
under  the  direction  and  control  of  Catholics;  be  it 

Resolved,  That  we  hereby  protest  to  the  American  Medical  Association 
against  the  action  of  the  Medical  Council;  and  be  it 

Resolved,  That  we  request  the  American  Medical  Association  to  instruct 
its  Medical  Council  to  discontinue  the  services  of  the  Carnegie  Foundation, 

Whereas,  All  education  should  be  so  directed  as  to  preserve  moral  purity, 
and  the  communication  of  knowledge  relating  thereto  should  be  adapted  to 
the  age  and  growth  of  the  child;  and 

Whereas,  The  communication  of  this  necessary  knowledge  pertains  of 
right  to  the  parents  and  the  divinely-constituted  guides  of  the  children;  be  it 

Resolved,  That  we  protest  against  and  condemn  as  subversive  of  true 
morality,  the  imparting  of  sexual  knowledge  to  children  as  at  present  carried 
on  in  many  private  and  public  schools  in  the  country. 

Whereas,  Five  thousand  and  more  Catholic  deaf  and  mute  children,  de- 
prived of  opportunity  for  receiving  religious  instruction,  are*  losing  their  faith 
under  non-Catholic  influences,  be  it  again 

Resolved,  That  every  effort  be  made  to  give  these  handicapped  children 
the  same  educational  advantages  accorded  to  the  normal  children  of  our  Catho- 
lic parish  schools. 


BOOKS  RECEIVED. 

BENZIGER  BROTHERS,  New  York : 

The  Apostle  of  Ceylon — Father  Joseph  Vaz.  Translated  from  the  French 
by  Ambrose  Cator.  60  cents  net.  Blessed  Sacrament  Book.  By  Rev.  F.  X. 
Lasance.  $1.50.  Meditations  on  the  Sacred  Heart.  By  Rev.  J.  McDonnell, 
SJ.  90  cents  net. 

FREDERICK  PUSTET  &  Co.,  New  York: 

The  Life  of  Martin  Luther.  By  Rt.  Rev.  Wm.  Stang,  D.D.  25  cents.  The 
Mother  of  Jesus  in  Holy  Scripture.  By  Rt.  Rev.  Dr.  Aloys  Schaefer. 
Translated  from  the  German  by  Very  Rev.  F.  Brossart,  V.G.  $2.00  net. 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  New  York : 

Collected  Poems.  By  Alice  Meynell.  $1.50  net.  Collected  Works  of  Francis 
Thompson.  Vols.  I.  and  II.,  Poems.  $3.50  net.  Vol.  III.,  Prose.  $2.00  net. 

ROBERT  APPLETON   Co.,  New  York : 

The  Catholic  Encyclopedia  Pamphlet. 

AMERICAN   BOOK  Co.,   New  York : 

5"*.  Teresa;  or  the  Garden  of  the  Soul.  Text  by  Adele  Bauve.  Music  by  Leon 
Farge.  20  cents. 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  New  York: 

Newman's  Apologia  Pro  Vita  Sua.  Preceded  by  Newman's  and  Kingsley's 
Pamphlets.  With  an  Introduction  by  Wilfrid  Ward.  50  cents  net. 

LITTLE,  BROWN  &  Co.,  Boston : 

Crime  and  Its  Repression.  By  Gustav  Aschaffenburg.  Translated  by  A.  Al- 
brecht.  $4.00  net. 

GOVERNMENT   PRINTING  OFFICE,  Washington,   D.   C. : 

Report  of  the  Commissioner  of  Education  for  the  Year  Ended  June  30.  1012. 
Vols.  I.  and  II. 

B.  HERDER,  St.  Louis : 

Thirty  Ways  of  Hearing  Mass.  Compiled  by  Rev.  George  Stebbing,  C.SS.R. 
75  cents.  A  Little  History  of  the  Love  of  the  Holy  Eucharist.  By  Freda 
Mary  Groves.  $1.10  net.  The  Tears  of  the  Royal  Prophet,  Poet  of  God. 
60  cents  net.  Compendium  Theologies  Dogmatics.  Auctore  Christiano  Pesch, 
SJ.  Tomus  II.  $1.60  net. 

INTER-COLLEGIATE  PRESS,   Kansas  City,   Mo. : 

Between  Eras  from  Capitalism  to  Democracy.     By  Albion  W.   Small.     $1.65. 
JOHN   C.   STALLCUP,   Tacoma,   Wash. : 

A  Refutation  of  the  Darwinian  Conception  of  the  Origin  of  Mankind.  By 
John  C.  Stallcup. 

CATHOLIC  BOOK  AND  SUPPLY  Co.,  Portland,  Oregon : 

The  Oregon  Catholic  Hymnal.     80  cents. 
ST.  ANTHONY'S  COLLEGE,  Santa  Barbara,  Cal. : 

My  Lady  Poverty.  A  Drama  in  Five  Acts.  By  Francis  De  Sales  Gliebe, 
O.F.M.  35  cents. 

P.   S.  KING  &  SON,  London: 

Sweated  Labour  and  the  Trade  Boards  Act.  By  Rev.  Thomas  Wright.  6  d.  net. 
First  Notions  on  Social  Service.  By  Mrs.  Philip  Gibbs.  6  d.  net.  A  Primer 
of  Social  Science.  By  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr.  H.  Parkinson,  D.D.,  Ph.D.  2  s. 

AMPLEFORTH    ABBEY,    Malton,   Yorkshire,    England: 

The  Spirit  of  Our  Lady's  Litany.     By  Abbot   Smith,   O.S.B.     i  s. 

INTERNATIONAL  CATHOLIC  PUBLISHING  Co.,  Amsterdam,   Holland : 
The  German  Centre  Party.     By  M.  Erzberger.     50  cents. 

AUSTRALIAN   CATHOLIC  TRUTH   SOCIETY,   Melbourne : 

Culture  and  Belief.  By  Very  Rev.  M.  J.  O'Reilly,  C.M.  Pamphlet.  One  penny. 
Adventures  in  Papua  with  the  Catholic  Mission.  By  Beatrice  Grimshaw. 
Pamphlet.  One  penny. 

LIBRAIRIE  ARMAND   COLIN,   Paris: 

Mon  Filleul  au  "  Jardin  D'Enfants."     Par  Felix  Klein.     3  frs.  50. 
EUGENE  FIGUIERE  ET  CIE,   Paris : 

Les  Biases.     Par  Marcel  Rogniat.     3  frs.  50. 


THE 


CATHOLIC  WORLD. 


VOL.  XCVII.  SEPTEMBER,  1913.  No.  582. 


SHAKESPEARE:    RECENT  DISCOVERIES  AND  A 
REVIEW. 

BY  APPLETON  MORGAN. 

T  is  to-day  quite  a  quarter  of  a  century  since  I  first, 
and  with  considerable  diffidence,  offered  to  THE 
CATHOLIC  WORLD  a  paper  touching  Shakespeare 
matters.  I  offered  my  work  to  THE  CATHOLIC 
WORLD  because  I  felt  myself  dilated  over  a  dis- 
covery I  thought  I  had  made.  It  turned  out  that  I  actually  had, 
originally  with  myself,  made  a  real  discovery.  But,  as  will  appear, 
others  had  made  it  before  me,  and  I  ought  to  have  been  ashamed 
of  myself  for  not  having  read  the  lay- works  in  which  that  dis- 
covery was  not  only  announced  but  elaborated! 

Even  at  that  date  I  had  been,  for  almost  as  long  a  period  of 
time  as  has  elapsed  since,  a  student  of  the  Shakespeare  environ- 
ment and  genesis,  and  had  become  dissatisfied  with  the  standard 
biographies  of  the  dramatist.  (With  the  philological  and  textual- 
critical  problems  I  had  never  been  much,  except  incidentally,  occu- 
pied.) All  at  once,  in  the  midst  of  my  attempts  to  reconcile  facts 
with  traditions,  it  flashed  upon  me  that  everything  was  reconciled 
with  everything,  and  relatively  explained,  by  supposing  William 
Shakespeare,  like  his  father  and  his  father's  fathers,  to  have  been 
of  the  Old  Faith! 

This  discovery,  or  acknowledgment,  that  the  dramatist  was  a 
Catholic — true  son  of  the  Old  Faith — however,  had  been  announced, 
none  too  cheerfully,  in  that  remarkable  jumble  of  monody,  solilo- 

Copyright.     1913.     THE  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  OF  ST.  PAUL  THE  APOSTLE 
IN  THE  STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 

VOL.   XCVII. — 46 


722  SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES        [Sept., 

quy,  spasm,  and  incoherence  which  Carlyle  calls  a  History  of  the 
French  Revolution.  But  as  I  had  never  (as  I  suppose  I  should  have 
done)  acquired  a  taste  for  Carlyle,  who,  whatever  he  wrote,  was 
always  subjectively  upon  the  stage  himself,  I  had  never  happened 
upon  it!  That  statement,  or  (as  it  was  in  his  mouth)  "Confes- 
sion," is  in  Chapter  II.  of  Book  First  of  The  French  Revolution. 
Here  it  is :  "  Nay  thus  too — if  Catholicism  with  and  against  Feud- 
alism (but  not  against  Nature  and  her  bounty)  gave  us  English 
a  Shakespeare,  and  era  of  Shakespeare;  and  so  produced  a  blossom 
of  Catholicism — it  was  not  until  Catholicism  itself,  so  far  as  law 
could  abolish  it,  had  been  abolished  here !  "  It  is  not  always 
easy  to  imagine  what  Carlyle  meant  in  his  interjected  matter. 
As  he  was  supposed  to  be  writing  about  things  in  France  (though 
the  name  of  France  is  hard  to  find  in  the  opening  chapters  of  his 
French  Revolution),  the  "  here  "  is  ambiguous.  But  the  term  "  us 
English  "  sufficiently  confesses  that  it  was  the  English  Shakespeare 
which  Catholicism  produced. 

Here,  then,  I  might  have  found  it!  But  I  shall  never  forget 
the  moment  when  it  came  upon  me,  with  the  impact  of  conviction, 
that  every  inconsistency  of  the  biographies,  and  all  the  problems 
of  circumstantial  evidence,  were  explained,  satisfied  and  laid  at 
rest  by  just  knowing  that  the  English  dramatist,  like  Cer- 
vantes and  Dante  (the  greatest  triumvirate  of  life  and  letters  that 
the  world  has  ever  known  or  ever  can  know),  was  a  son  of  the 
Catholic  Church. 

No  longer  is  it  a  difficulty  where  Shakespeare  derived  that 
absolute  command  of  his  own  past,  that  fullness  in  minute  and 
current  matters  of  past  cycles — immaterialities  that  had  earned  only 
the  slightest  entry  of  record  in  records  that  had  themselves  perished, 
but  of  which  in  his  alembic  he  could  make  just  one  apposition — 
and  then  himself  forget!  As  in  the  list  of  his  Hapax  Legomena, 
he  used  once  and  then  forever  discarded  a  larger  number  of  words 
than  John  Milton  possessed  in  his  entire  vocabulary,  so  in  the 
materials  of  his  plays  he  absolutely  foreclosed  the  material  he 
worked  in!  Where  did  he  get  it?  Where,  indeed,  but  from  the 
storehouses  where  alone  was  preserved  the  lore  and  the  literature 
that  otherwise  would  have  been  utterly  lost  to  mankind — perished 
from  the  face  of  the  planet — from  the  religious  establishments, 
the  monasteries  and  the  convents,  in  which  alone  letters  and  learn- 
ing had  been  cherished  and  its  muniments  preserved,  during  the 
Dark  Ages,  by  the  Catholic  Church? 


1913.]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES  723 

I. 

When,  under  Henry  the  Eighth,  these  religious  establishments 
were  despoiled,  stripped  and  razed  by  his  royal  escheaters  (a  title 
even  then,  for  obvious  reasons,  abbreviated  to  "  cheaters  "),  where 
could  the  dispersed  scholars  have  recourse  for  food  and  shelter 
but  to  good  Catholics  like  Shakespeare?  And  Shakespeare  could 
not  only  have  given  them  food  and  shelter,  but  employment  too ! 

How  simple  the  whole  explanation  is !  No  need  of  any  Bacon- 
ian theory  now! 

Was  it  strange  that,  when  I  found  no  escape  from  the  truth 
that  the  literature  that  had  been  my  adored  study  for  almost  a 
quarter  of  a  century  was  Catholic — in  that  it  was  born  of  a 
Catholic  pen  and  a  Catholic  Church  inspiration — I  sought  the 
hospitality  of  a  Catholic  magazine  for  whatever  I  could  add,  or 
imagine  that  I  could  add,  to  the  hermeneutics  of  Catholic  Shake- 
speareana  ?* 

Perhaps  I  may  be  suffered  to  note  here  just  a  few  of  the 
instances  in  these  investigations,  where  the  fact  that  William  Shake- 
speare was  a  son  of  the  Old  Faith  at  once  clears  the  air,  and  ex- 
plains an  item  or  a  circumstance  where  we  had  been  blindly  guess- 
ing or  conjuring  up  possibilities,  or  meandering  away  afield  after 
all  sorts  of  whimsical  and  bizarre  theories  to  account  for  them  ever 
since  Shakespeare  was  studied  at  all! 

King  Henry  had  divorced  himself  from  his  pious  and  stately 
consort  Katherine,  not  by  axe  and  block  (as  he  began  to  do  later 
as  his  conscience  required),  but  through  form  of  what  he  called 
the  "  law !  "  The  comment  of  the  kingdom  was  not  awry,  how- 
ever, as  Shakespeare  himself  records  in  one  deft  Shakespearean 
touch : 

Chamberlain: — It  seems  the  marriage  with  his  brother's  wife 

Has  crept  too  near  his  conscience. 
Suffolk: —  No,  his  conscience 

Has  crept  too  near  another  lady! 

Henry  the  Eighth  is  the  only  one  of  the  historical  plays  which 
was  not  published  during  Shakespeare's  lifetime.  Why? 

A  careless,  even  the  most  perfunctory,  reading  of  that  play 
shows  us  that  the  gravamen  of  the  whole  play  is  to  ennoble  and 

*That  the  hospitality  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD  was  ample,  I  may  gratefully 
note  the  following  references  from  its  index:  Vols.  xl.,  379;  xlii.,  212;  xliv.,  29; 
xlv.,  348 ;  1.,  65,  723 ;  Hi.,  849 ;  Ivii.,  777 ;  Ixii.,  449 ;  Ixix.,  285. 


724  SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES       [Sept., 

eulogize  the  character  of  Queen  Katherine.  But  Queen  Eliza- 
beth was  the  daughter  of  Queen  ^Catherine's  rival  and  supplanter, 
Anne  Bullen.  To  be  sure,  Shakespeare  did  not  handle  Queen 
Elizabeth's  mother  very  roughly.  He  was  too  full  of  the  milk  of 
human  kindness  to  deal  very  harshly  with  anybody.  (Not  Mac- 
beth, or  Richard,  or  even  lago,  will  Shakespeare  dismiss  without 
the  best  he  can  say  of  him.  Even  to  lago  he  gives  a  last  touch 
of  sympathy,  and  he  always  lets  his  villains  go  unpunished  some- 
how!) And  so  in  this  play  Anne  is  merely  flippant.  She  lets 
Lord  Sands  kiss  her.  But  kissing  was  the  usual  salutation  be- 
tween titled  persons  (Desdemona,  according  to  the  first  folio,  gave 
Othello  for  his  pains  "  a  world  of  kisses  "  instead  of  "  a  world 
of  sighs  "*  as  modern  editions  have  it.  And  when  Romeo  at 
Capulet's  masked  ball  offers  to  kiss  poor  little  Juliet  on  a  first 
meeting,  she  does  not  demur,  although,  in  pretty  allusion  to  Romeo's 
monk's  robe  and  cowl,  she  says  "  Hand  to  hand  is  holy  palmer's 
kiss").  And  I  cannot  see  why  Anne,  who  has  already  begun 
to  catch  the  King's  drift,  should  not  have  naively  protested  that  she 
would  not  for  all  the  wealth  in  the  world  be  a  Queen,  or  why  she 
should  not  have  said  to  the  old  waiting-lady : 

Anne: — Pray,  do  not  deliver 

What  here  you've  heard  to  her  [Queen  Katherine]. 
Old  Lady: — What  do  you  think  me? 

These  are  straws  only,  and  very  negligible  straws  too ! 

But,  however  lightly  poor  Anne  Bullen  is  drawn,  it  is  plain 
that  the  play  was  lese-majeste  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  thinking! 
Her  policy  was  in  nothing  more  strenuous  than  to  wean  the  public 
thought  from  her  own  bastardy  by  the  Common  as  well  as  the 
Ecclesiastic  Law.  Indeed,  even  in  the  rush  of  her  own  coronation 
she  did  not  forget  it,  and  actually  her  first  royal  decree  was  to  the 
effect  that  no  play,  broadside,  or  publication  of  any  sort  "  in  which 
matters  of  State  or  of  religion  should  be  handled  or  treated, "f 
should  be  permitted  throughout  the  realm.  So  of  course  this  play 
could  neither  be  presented  on  a  stage  nor  printed  in  broadside 
(what  we  now  call  the  "  quartos  ")  during  Elizabeth's  reign.  And 
so  we  note  aliunde  that  Shakespeare  uttered  no  word  of  eulogy  or 

This  reading,  "  kisses "  instead  of  "  sighs,"  is  retained  in  all  of  the  three 
succeeding  quartos,  1632,  1664,  and  1685. 

tProclamation  of  April  7,  1559.  Repeated  in  Decree  of  May  16,  1559.  Printed 
in  extenso,  vol.  i.,  Bankside  Shakespeare  (The  New  York  Shakespeare  Society, 
1888),  page  6. 


1913-]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES  725 

lament,  or  even  expressed  the  least  regret  at  Elizabeth's  demise. 
(The  theory  so  congenial  to  most  of  my  colleagues  that  the  pas- 
sage in  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  beginning  "  I  saw  a  mer- 
maid on  a  dolphin's  back,"  etc.,  is  eulogy  of  Elizabeth,  may  be  cor- 
rect. But  it  is  only  theory.  And  even  if  correct,  it  was  only  a 
sop  to  the  Lord  of  Kenilworth.) 

But  as  we  now  have  it,  the  play  is  a  dramatic  solecism — a 
perfect  Janus-Bifrons  among  plays !  The  first  four  acts  are  •  an 
exaltation  of  Queen  Katherine — of  her  noble  bearing,  her  courtly 
courtesy  even  to  her  enemies  who  are  seeking  to  depose  and  divorce 
her.  It  is  in  every  line  testimony  to  the  affection  of  the  English 
people  for  her  saintly  character  and  her  charities.  Nay,  it  is  even 
testimony  to  the  admiration  and  respect  for  her  cherished  by  the 
bloated  King  himself !  No  effect  to  beatify  her  is  wanting.  She  is 
depicted  as  forgiving  Cardinal  Wolsey,  in  that  he  had  aught  to 
reluctantly  do  with  her  fate.  For  Cardinal  Wolsey  who  would 
"  have  no  Bullens  " — is  given  the  sympathy  of  the  spectators  and 
grandly  eulogized,  every  honor  paid  him  in  his  fall  and  every  dig- 
nity in  him  satisfied,  in  those  first  four  acts.  More  lese-majeste 
from  an  Elizabethan  standpoint. 

But,  mirabile  dictu!  In  the  fifth  act,  as  printed  in  1623,  all 
this  is  changed !  Anne  Bullen's  child  is  now  the  subject  of  eulogy 
— the  child  of  the  illegal  (from  every  English  standpoint)  consort 
who  has  taken  the  queenly  Katherine's  place.  We  have  the  public 
rejoicing  at  the  christening  ceremonies,  the  pageants,  the  cheering 
crowds  and,  to  crown  all,  the  inconsistency,  a  glowing  description 
of  the  "  glories  "  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign.  (A  reign,  by  the 
way,  not  yet  a  fait  accompli.  From  any  standpoint,  not  until  the 
end  of  it,  could  it  have  been  known  to  have  been  "  glorious !  "  We 
might  be  reminded,  indeed,  of  that  genius  who  wrote  a  novel 
placing  his  scene  in  the  year  A.  D.  800,  and  who  makes  one  of  his 
characters  say,  "  We  men  of  the  Middle  Ages.")  But,  knowing 
that  Shakespeare  was  of  the  Old  Faith,  of  a  party  that  cherished 
the  memory  of  Catholic  Queen  Katherine,  and  looked  upon  Eliza- 
beth as  a  usurper,  as  was  her  mother,  how  clearly  this  difficulty 
is  accounted  for? 

In  order  to  make  the  play  of  Henry  the  Eighth  publishable, 
Shakespeare's  own  fifth  act  is  removed,  and  an  entirely  new  one, 
eulogizing  Elizabeth,  is  substituted.  The  lese-majeste  is  removed, 
and  the  play  is  taken  from  beneath  the  ban  ,of  the  stage  censor ! 

Shakespeare's  fifth  act  (the  existence  of  which  we  predicate 


726  SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES        [Sept., 

upon  the  custom  which  he  always  follows  of  writing  his  plays  in 
the  canonical  five-act  scheme)  was  of  course  uniform  in  trend  with 
the  other  four.  This  sufficiently  appears  from  the  Prologue: 

I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugh:    things  now, 
That  wear  a  weighty  and  a  serious  brow,  etc. 

That  Prologue  would  never  have  served  to  usher  in  such  a  paean 
upon  Elizabeth's  birth  as  the  present  fifth  act  is,  as  it  stands  to-day! 

That  our  external  evidence  agrees  for  once  with  the  unanimous 
concurrence  of  every  dramatic  and  textual  critic,  is  surely  a  gratifi- 
cation !  But  every  dramatic  critic,  at  whatever  consequence,  admits 
that  the  present  fifth  act  of  the  Henry  the  Eighth  is  a  dramatic 
anti-climax!  And  that  its  style  and  phrasing  is  not  that  of  the 
author  of  the  first  four  acts,  every  textual  critic  admits!  Such  a 
concordance,  I  think,  justifies  us  in  the  assertion  that  the  stage 
censor  went  to  work  at  the  play  with  his  hatchet;  and  that,  when 
he  had  finished  his  work,  the  play  was  effectually  purged  of  its 
Elizabethan  lese-majeste  by  the  Lope  de  Vega  method  of  sacri- 
ficing consistency  to  practical  purposes ! 

But  I  find  it  urged  that  Shakespeare,  being  the  alter  ego  of 
Lord  Southampton,  could  write  as  he  pleased.  I  doubt  if  this 
can  be  very  seriously  urged.  Not  Southampton  himself,  any  more 
than  Essex  or  Raleigh,  was  permitted  to  relax  himself  in  hom- 
age to  Elizabeth's  whims.  The  first  use  that  the  Tudors  made  of 
their  great  men  was  to  cut  the  great  men's  heads  off.  And 
Elizabeth  was  every  inch  a  Tudor.  I  don't  myself  believe  in  that 
Southampton  story,  as  I  have  so  often  set  forth.  There  is  no  trace 
of  it  in  the  Southampton  family  records  or  anywhere  else.  (Unless 
a  couple  of  dedications  are  evidence  in  a  day  when  publishers 
dedicated  anything  to  anybody  for  commercial  purposes.  We  have 
George  Wither's  exact  testimony  as  to  that  publisher's  custom!) 

But,  brushing  my  own  theories  aside,  now  comes  Dr.  Wallace 
with  records  proving  that  William  Shakespeare  actually  lodged  in 
Mugwell  Street  with  a  refugee  Frenchman,  who  made  wigs  for  a 
living  in  an  obscure  street,  and  eked  out  his  livelihood  by  taking 
lodgers.  Those  who  can  conceive  of  Southampton  in  his  palaces 
and  Shakespeare  in  his  lodgings  at  the  wig-maker's,  as  Damon 
and  Pythias  and  alter  egos,  are,  I  admit,  impervious  to  arguments — 
mine  or  anybody  else's.  I  think  myself  that  Shakespeare's  Henry 
the  Eighth  was  not  the  play  All  is  True,  which  was  on  the  boards 
of  the  Globe  Theatre  when  that  edifice  was  destroyed  by  fire;  at 


1913-]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES  727 

the  total  loss,  according  to  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  "  of  a  bit  of  straw 
and  a  few  forsaken  cloakes."  (But  that  is  a  long  question  which 
I  will  not  enter  upon  here.)  The  general  explanation  of  the  non- 
appearance  of  the  Henry  the  Eighth  among  the  quartos  is,  I  believe, 
that  the  play  was  not  Shakespeare's  but  Fletcher's,  or  Shakespeare's 
and  Fletcher's,  and  this  is  proved  by  the  neo-Shakespeareans,  by 
counting  the  lines,  classifying  them  as  stopped-ending,  unstopped- 
ending,  etc.,  lines.  This  mathematics  of  prosody,  I  am  aware,  con- 
vinces many  clever  commentators.  I  have  never  taken  it  very 
seriously  myself.  But  the  fact  remains,  however,  proved ! 

In  all  his  dramatic  career,  Shakespeare  never  but  in  this  single 
instance  seems  to  have  written  a  play  "  with  a  purpose."  I  do  not 
mean  without  a  trend.  Doubtless  the  trend  of  Othello  is  to  teach 
the  reader  to  beware  of  jealousy,  of  Timon  to  teach  the  heartless- 
ness  of  sycophants,  and  so  on.  Though  whether  Shakespeare  ever 
felt,  over  and  above  his  dramatic  instincts,  a  compulsion  to  preach 
platitudes  about  anything  to  his  fellowmen,  I  have  my  doubts. 
However  there  is  no  possible  matter  of  doubt  as  to  the  purpose  of 
the  play  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  There  is  a  long  story  as  to  the 
part  played  by  the  drama  of  Richard  the  Second,  and  its  perform- 
ance procured  by  the  Essex  conspirators,  which  Elizabeth  herself 
snuffed  treason  in,  saying  to  Hayward,  "  Know  ye  not  that  I  am 
Richard  ?  "  That  episode  is  well  enough  recorded  history.  But 
in  that  case  the  play  was  not  claimed  to  have  been  written  for  any 
treasonable  purpose.  It  was  only  its  presentation,  at  that  particular 
time,  of  which  Elizabeth  complained.* 

II. 

To  be  sure  there  are  at  least  an  hundred  labored  volumes 
consorted  to  prove  Shakespeare  a  Protestant  and  a  Puritan,  by 
means  of  passages,  phrases  or  whole  sentences,  torn  from  their 
contexts  throughout  the  plays.  The  very  last  of  these  volumes 
that  has  reached  my  notice  is  one  by  a  Rev.  Dr.  Carter,  which 
not  only  "  proves  "  all  it  sets  out  to  prove,  but  identifies  the  exact 
English  translation  of  the  Bible  that  Shakespeare  used  (the  so- 
called  "Bishop's  Bible").  All  these  volumes  are  of  course  dis- 
posed of  by  such  a  timid  suggestion  as  that,  perhaps,  even  a  Shake- 

*The  student  of  this  play  may  be,  I  think,  pardoned  a  little  impatience,  when 
he  discovers  not  only  this  second  playwright  who  eulogizes  Elizabeth  in  the  fifth 
act ;  but  a  third  writer  who,  towards  the  end  of  this  fifth  act,  runs  in  a  bunch 
of  lines  apotheosizing  King  James,  son  of  Queen  Mary,  whom  Elizabeth  murdered. 
("  So  shall  she  leave  her  blessedness  to  one." — Seq.,  V.  V.,  42.) 


728 


SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES        [Sept., 


speare  was  a  dramatist!  That  even  a  Shakespeare  would  put  into 
the  mouth  of  a  character  what  that  character  would  be  expected  to 
say;  certainly  not  what  he  would  not  be  expected  to  say !  Even  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Carter  would  not  argue  that  Shakespeare  was  a  liar,  a 
scoundrel,  and  a  murderer  because  he  made  lago  talk  like  a  liar,  a 
scoundrel,  and  a  murderer !  No  candid  Protestant  critic,  whatever 
his  zeal  for  tour  de  force,  can  read  the  old  and  the  later  King  John, 
and  note  the  elisions  made  by  Shakespeare  (albeit  he  knew  that 
the  passages  libelous  of  the  Catholic  Church  were  the  very  pas- 
sages that  would  most  appeal  to  his  unspeakable  audiences,  the 
groundlings),  and  doubt  what  Shakespeare's  religious  attachments 
were!  We  have,  I  am  beginning  to  think,  almost  enough  of  this 
sort  of  sign-post  criticism,  and  about  enough  Dr.  Carters! 

And  again :  There  is  that  item  which  always  intrudes  itself  just 
about  here,  viz.,  the  famous  entry  in  the  Stratford  Town  records 
that  John  Shakespeare  "  cometh  not  to  Church  for  fear  of  process 
for  debt !  "*  I  have  already  stated  in  these  pages  that  that  entry 
was  an  evident  subterfuge,  since  process  for  debt  could  not  be 
served  upon  a  Sunday;  that  according  to  the  law  of  England 

^Readers  of  THE  CATHOLIC  WORLD  will  care  to  see  this  famous  entry  verb, 
lit.  et  punct.  which  is  not  dated,  but  was  made,  as  the  following  entries  show, 
a  few  days  prior  to  September  i,  1592.  In  examining  it  one  cannot  escape  the 
conviction  that  Queen  Elizabeth's  Acts  of  Contumacy  were  exceedingly  unpopular 
in  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  that  the  Burgesses  sought  every  possible  pretext  to 
escape  mulcting  their  neighbors  for  non-attendance  on  Protestant  worship :  every 
one  mentioned  on  the  two  lists  (except  Widow  Wheeler,  who  "  is  conformed ") 
being  found  exonerated,  as  far  as  the  Burgesses  could  exonerate  them,  from  the 
statutory  fine.  It  is  interesting  also  to  note  that  Shakespeare  uses  two  of  the 
names  on  the  first  list,  Fluelen  and  Bardolfe,  in  his  plays  of  Henry  V.  and  Henry  IV. : 

Th  names  of  suche  recusantes  as  have  been  heretofore  presented  for  not  coming 
monthelie  to  th  Churche  according  to  Hir  Maiesties  laws,  and  yet  are  thowte 
to  forbeare  th  churche  for  debte  and  for  feare  of  processe  or  for  some  other 
worse  faultes  or  for  age  sycknesse  or  impotencye  of  bodie 

Mr  John  Wheeler  1 

John  Wheeler  his  son 

Mr  John  Shackspeare 

Mr  John  Nicholas  Barneshurste 

Thomas  James  alias  Giles 

William  Bainton 

Richard    Harrington 

William  Fluellen 

George  Bardolfe 


It  is  sayde  that  these  last  nine  coom  not 
to  churche  for  feare  of  processe  for 
debte 


Mris  Geffrewys.  wid. 
Mris  Barber 
Julian  Coorte 
Griffin  ap  Roberts 
John  Welshe 
Mris  Wheeler 


Weare  all  here  presented  for  recusantes,  and  do  all 
so  continue  saving  Mris  Wheeler  who  is  conformed, 
and  Griffin  ap  Roberts  now  deade.  But  the  presenters 
saye  that  all  or  moste  coom  not  to  churche  for  age  or 
other  infirmities 


1913.]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES 

(which  is  our  Common  law  to-day  in  the  United  States  too) 
Sunday  was  the  only  day  when  a  debtor  could  safely  stray  beyond 
the  portal  of  his  house,  which  is  his  castle,  without  being  served 
with  process  for  debt.  (I  don't  want  to  be  considered  too  in- 
variable an  inconoclast,  and  doubter  of  tales  merely  because  they 
are  accepted !  But  I  might  not  be  able  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
ask  what  debts  John  Shakespeare  owed  that  kept  him  away  from 
church  if  he  had  wanted  to  go?  We  have  the  Stratford  town 
records.  Who  has  found  in  them  any  entries  concerning  John 
Shakespeare's  debts? 

But  let  us  settle  this  question  of  John  Shakespeare's  debts, 
as  well  as  the  question  of  John  Shakespeare's  religion,  finally  and 
once  for  all!  If  John  Shakespeare  had  been  in  debt,  it  would 
have  availed  him  nothing  at  all  to  stay  away  from  church  on  Sun- 
days. His  creditors  could  have  procured  a  writ  of  elegit  whether 
he  attended  services  at  Trinity  or  not!  An  elegit  was  a  writ 
issued  to  the  sheriff  commanding  him  to  make  deliverance  of  a 
moiety  of  the  debtor's  lands  and  goods  (beasts  of  the  plough  only 
excepted).  The  sheriff  on  possessing  himself  of  the  debtor's 
lands  and  personality,  issued  an  inquest  to  ascertain  the  value 
thereof.  This  realty  and  personal  property  is  then  delivered  by 
the  sheriff  to  the  creditors,  to  be  retained  by  them  until  the  debt 
and  costs  are  satisfied :  the  debtor  meanwhile  being  a  "  tenant 
by  elegit"  of  his  own  lands  and  goods.  This  process  is  as  old 
as  England,  and  in  some  of  the  United  States  is  still  resorted  to. 
If  John  Shakespeare  had  ever  been  a  "  tenant  by  elegit "  Stratford 
records  or  court  appeals  could  not  have  failed  to  exhibit  the  fact. 
Malone  or  Halliwell-Phillipps  would  have  unearthed  the  record. 
Even  poor  John  Jour  dan  (who  resurrected  so  many  rumors  and 
traditions  that  led  to  so  many  discoveries  of  fact)  would  have 
hit  upon  it  somehow. 

I  am  afraid  that  we  will  have  to  admit  that  this  famous  entry 
in  the  Aldermen's  minutes  was  made  not  to  excuse  John  Shake- 
speare, but  to  excuse  themselves  for  not  enforcing  (as  Elizabeth's 
statutes  made  it  their  duty  to  do)  John  Shakespeare's  fines  for 
his  stout  contumacy  in  refusing  to  attend  the  Protestant  services 
at  the  newly-converted  Trinity  Church. 

And  how  do  we  know  that  John  Shakespeare  fell  into  dire 
poverty?  Why,  it  is  proved — as  so  many  things  passing  strange 
are  proved  concerning  Shakespeare  matters — by  an  effort  of  pure 
reason.  Videlicet: 


730  SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES       [Sept, 

John  Shakespeare  must  have  been  very  poor,  or  he  would 
not  have  removed  his  son  William  from  the  Stratford  Grammar 
School  at  so  early  an  age. 

Question:  How  do  we  know  that  John  Shakespeare  ever  placed 
his  son  William  at  that  Stratford  Grammar  School  at  all? 

Answer:  Why,  if  he  had  not  placed  him  there,  how  could  he 
have  taken  him  away? 

But  perhaps  this  is  unfair.  We  argue  mostly  about  Shake- 
speare in  a  circle  to  be  sure.  But  really  not  quite  so  palpable  a 
circle  as  that!  It  is  bad  enough  as  it  is,  without  making  it  worse/ 
Let  us  say,  rather,  that  we  prove  that  young  William  Shakespeare 
was  a  student  at  the  Stratford  Grammar  School  because  his  father 
was  an  Alderman,  and  that  it  is  likely,  and  probable  even,  that 
a  son  of  a  Stratford  Alderman  should  be  sent  to  the  Stratford 
Grammar  School!  Of  course,  once  a  scholar  there  (which  is 
proved  beyond  the  possibility  of  error  by  the  fact  that  his  father 
was  an  Alderman,  etc.),  young  Shakespeare  would  have  been  re- 
moved from  said  Grammar  School  on  his  father  becoming  poor. 
(It  is  not  necessary  to  prove  such  a  self-evident  proposition  as  that. 
Were  it  necessary  we  would  start  our  circle  in  this  wise : ) 

Stratford  Grammar  School  was  erected  upon  the  ruins  of  the 
old  Guild  of  the  Holy  Cross,  which  went  with  the  rest,  of  course, 
when  Henry  the  Eighth  "  conveyed  "  all  church  property  to  his  own 
use  by  force  of  arms.  The  Earl  of  Warwick,  however,  had  moved 
King  Edward  the  Sixth  to  restore  it  as  a  Grammar  School  for 
the  poor  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  he  himself  (Earl  Warwick 
aforesaid)  had  become  its  Visitor  and  Patron.  There  were  no  fees 
at  all.  It  was — as  had  been  the  Guild  School  which  the  Catholic 
Church  had  maintained — for  the  poor  children  of  the  vicinage. 
Except  that,  whereas,  the  Guild  had  fed  as  well  as  taught  these 
poor  children,  King  Edward's  foundation  only  administered  the 
Grammar  School  function  of  what  was  supposed  to  be  purely  in- 
tellectual pabulum. 

And,  being  for  the  poor  children — !  But,  alas  here  our 
circle  comes  to  grief!  If  there  were  no  fees,  and  the  Grammar 
School  was  for  the  children  of  the  poor,  why  was  it  necessary, 
when  John  Shakespeare  became  poor,  that  little  William  should 
have  been  taken  away  from  its  sessions?  And  echo  answereth 
not!  Nor  are  we  informed,  either,  why  John  Shakespeare,  owner 
in  fee  of  three  substantial  residence-tenements  on  Henley  Street 
with  their  curtilages,  should  be  obliged  to  avoid  payment  of  his 


1913-]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES  731 

debts  by  the  easy  process  of  merely  refraining  from  going  to 
church  on  Sundays!  Or  what  sort  of  a  debt  it  was  that  under 
English  law  (at  any  period  of  English  history,  then  or  before 
or  since)  could  not  be  collected  out  of  the  real  estate,  but  must 
remain  uncollectable  except  by  what  the  late  Mr.  Micawber  was 
familiar  with  as  "  civil  process  ? "  Would  it  not  be  passing 
strange  if  this  whole  fuss  about  John  Shakespeare's  poverty  was 
a  figment,  born  of  the  misreading  of  that  single  entry  made  to  save 
the  Stratford  Aldermen  from  reprimand,  or  worse,  for  not  pro- 
ceeding against  their  old  associate  and  fellow-Catholic? 

How,  in  common  sense  (if  common  sense  is  permitted  in  study- 
ing Shakespeare  matters)  could  an  entry  on  the  town  records  free 
John  Shakespeare  from  a  debt?  Or  how,  by  a  perfectly  trans- 
parent subterfuge,  could  he  evade  the  law  or  take  advantage  of  his 
own  wrong?  But  as  an  excuse  for  remissness  in  proceeding  to 
collect  fines  for  non-attendance  which  Elizabeth's  statute  (I.  Eliz., 
cap.  2)  made  it  the  Town  Council's  duty  to  collect,  it  was  an 
ingenious  minute  to  record,  as  tending  to  show  good  faith,  or  the 
attempt  to  do  his  duty,  etc.,  should  the  necessity  for  pleading 
good  faith  arise.  What  the  record  tells  us  is  that  John  Shakespeare, 
as  any  Stratford  townsman  might,  had  his  financial  ups  and  downs. 
But  that  he  was  ever  reduced  to  squalor,  driven  to  secrete  himself 
from  the  bailiffs,  or  thrown  into  a  sponging  house,  nobody  knows 
(or,  rather,  everybody  does  know  to  the  contrary).  But  so  firmly 
has  this  idea  of  the  father's  poverty  obscessed  Englishmen,  that 
to  this  day  the  manufacturer  of  Shakespeare  "  relics  "  forgets 
that  William  Shakespeare  was  the  richest  resident  of  Stratford, 
living  in  its  stateliest  mansion ;  and  makes  bogus  relics  of  the  mean- 
est and  most  clumsy  description — a  broken  pipe,  a  vinegar  pewter 
mug,  a  clumsy  shuffle  board — and  places  them  in  a  hovel  that,  how- 
ever "  restored,"  is  but  a  hovel  still.  And  the  tourist  to-day  at  "The 
Birthplace  "  (malgre  the  records  of  Stratford  real  estate  transfers 
which  bear  witness  that  the  dramatist  could  not  have  been  born 
there  unless  he  had  managed  to  be  born  between  his  fifth  and  sixth 
years)  is  humbled  and  disgusted  with  this  rubbish !  This  "  Birth- 
place," by  the  way,  is  now  an  adjunct  of  the  British  Crown.  So 
that  it  is  actually  the  British  Government  that  collects  our  fees 
and  gives  us  in  quid  pro  quo  the  Shakespeare  poverty,  with  the  cor- 
ollary aforesaid  as  to  the  non-attendance  at  Protestant  worship. 

But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  much  more  generally  accepted 
propositions  than  this  have  accrued  to  general  acceptance  through 


732  SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES       [Sept., 

even  lesser  data.  What  biographer  fails  to  assert,  for  example, 
that  Shakespeare  and  his  wife  were  estranged,  and  lived  apart? 
And  where  is  there  the  least  authority  for  such  a  statement  of  fact? 
It  has  grown,  I  suppose,  out  of  that  "  second  best  bed  "  inter- 
lineation in  the  will,  as  basis  for  a  consolation  that  Shakespeare 
had  forgotten  that  he  had  a  wife  at  all:  but,  on  his  attention 
being  called  to  the  fact,  interlineated  a  slurring  bequest !  But  it  is 
equally,  as  well  as  exactly,  within  the  presumption  that  a  man  and 
his  wife  are  not  estranged;  that  Shakespeare  made  that  interlinea- 
tion from  scrupulous  anxiety,  lest  his  wife  should  not  have  all  that 
she  was  entitled  to.  She  already  possessed  her  dower;  and,  as 
we  have  now  discovered  finally,  the  dramatic  rights  and  manu- 
scripts of  eighteen  of  the  plays! 

The  real  discoveries  of  the  last  twenty  years  of  vigilant  watch- 
fulness for  Shakespearean  data,  have  actually  been  made  only  dur- 
ing the  last  four  years  by  a  young  American,  my  friend,  Dr. 
Charles  William  Wallace,  but  he  has  succeeded  in  unearthing 
matters  that  all  the  impulses  and  accomplishments  of  three  centuries 
of  students  have  never  even  suspected  the  existence  of! 

There  is  in  London  an  establishment  called  "  The  Public 
Records  Office."  It  is  a  building  as  large  as,  perhaps,  the  New 
York  Custom  House:  and  into  it  have  been  thrown  pell-mell, 
for  at  least  seven  hundred  years,  millions  of  records  of  old  law- 
suits that  nobody  could  be  supposed  ever  to  care  to  refer  to; 
as  forgotten  as  the  parties  and  their  grievances,  whatever  they 
were,  could  be.  To  these  must  by  law  be  given  a  receptacle.  But 
no  statute  can  forbid  them  to  fall  to  pieces  by  mildew  or  dry-rot, 
and  mildew  and  dry-rot  are  the  state  in  which  Dr.  Wallace  found 
these  parchments  (or  "skins,"  as  called  by  the  keepers).  But, 
useless  and  uncared  for  as  they  were,  the  moment  an  enterprising 
young  American  startled  the  drowsy  old  custodians  by  applying 
for  permission  to  examine  them,  they  suddenly  became  objects 
of  the  tenderest  and  most  scrupulous  care!  The  application  must 
be  made  at  one  office,  viseed  at  another,  certificates  of  good  char- 
acter of  the  applicant  must  be  verified  and  approved,  and  the  whole 
skein  of  red-tape  submitted  and  re-submitted  and  recommended, 
either  for  further  approval  or  final  reference,  until  the  entire 
Circumlocution  Office  had  been  memorialized  or  satisfied!  And 
then,  this  routine  exhausted,  several  custodians  must  be  appointed 
and  sworn  to  accompany  Dr.  Wallace  upon  his  movements  among 
these  time-eaten  skins.  And  when  Dr.  Wallace  should  find  one 


1913.]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES  733 

he  wished  to  further  examine  or  study  at  leisure,  that  skin  must  be 
first  carried  to  an  official,  and  registered  and  stamped  with  the 
great  seal  of  the  Records  Office,  thus  identifying  it  as  the  property 
of  the  Crown  (making  a  surreptitious  possession  or  mutilation  of 
it  a  sort  of  high  treason  without  benefit  of  clergy)  !  However, 
Dr.  Wallace  was  fortunate  in  possessing  not  only  the  zeal  and 
ability  of  the  true  scholar,  but,  what  rarely  accompanies  these  attri- 
butes, that  mental  poise  and  phlegmatic  temperament  which  enabled 
him  to  grin  with  good-natured  imperturbability  at  all  this  red-tape, 
and  patiently  and  philosophically  to  exhaust  it,  instead  of  permitting 
it  to  exhaust  either  his  zeal  or  himself !  Once  this  routine  satisfied, 
the  authorities  concluded  to  give  Dr.  Wallace  a  table  at  a  window, 
and  every  facility  to  dip  into  the  work  for  which  he  had  made  his 
pilgrimage  to  London.  Besides  their  condition  after  hundreds  of 
years  of  neglect,  these  records  Dr.  Wallace  found  to  be  written 
in  the  old  law  jargon,  or  dog-Latin  and  English,  both  arbitrarily 
abbreviated  according  to  each  scrivener's  fancy  or  convenience: 
a  jargon  compared  to  which  Greek  or  Hebrew  or  cuneiform 
would  doubtless  have  been  a  welcome  sight  to  Dr.  Wallace! 

Dr.  Wallace  has  not  found,  so  far,  that  Shakespeare  himself 
(except  in  one  instance  where  he  was  formally  joined  as  a  party 
of  record,  in  order  that  a  friendly  suit  as  to  lands  in  St.  Helen's 
Place  might,  when  carried  to  a  decree,  bind  all  parties  neighboring 
upon  the  premises  involved)  brought  or  was  defendant  or  inter- 
ested party  of  record  to  any  lawsuits.  But  he  (Dr.  Wallace)  has 
so  far  found  five  lawsuits  that  at  once  add  marvelously  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  London  history  and  the  London  possession  of 
William  Shakespeare!  These  lawsuits — not  to  bother  with  the 
names  of  interpleaded  parties — are  Bendish  vs.  Bacon;  Taylor  vs. 
Heminges ;  Osteler  vs.  Heminges ;  Witter  vs.  Heminges,  and  Belot 
vs.  Mountjoie.  Musty  and  void  of  human  interest  as  law  papers 
usually  are,  it  can't  be  questioned  that  these  documents  are  over-full 
of  interest  to  us.  Each  set  of  them  reveals  Shakespeare  in  a  dif- 
ferent relation.  In  the  first-named  suit,  he  is  shown  as  a  holder 
of  real  properties  in  the  Parish  of  St.  Helen's,  London  (which  we 
have  always  known  from  the  fact  of  some  pence  of  unpaid  taxes 
still  remaining  on  the  books — though  it  is  fair  to  say  that  Mr. 
Hales  lately  found  in  the  "  Pipe  Rolls  "  proof  that  Shakespeare 
was  warranted  in  declining  to  pay  them).  In  the  next-named 
two  suits,  Shakespeare  is  shown  as  a  holder  of  shares  in  the  Black- 
friars  and  Globe  Theatres,  and  as  realizing  about  three  thousand 


734  SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES        [Sept.,. 

dollars  a  year  (present  value  of  money),  at  the  very  least,  from 
them.  And  in  the  last-named  suit,  we  find  the  dramatist  lodging 
at  the  house  of  a  "  tire  "  (wig)  maker  in  Monkwell  Street,  where 
he  was  involved  in  a  suit  for  a  marriage  portion  brought  by  one 
Stephen  Belot  against  the  wig-maker  himself,  whose  daughter 
Belot  had  married.  The  great  discovery  here  is  that  when 
Shakespeare  is  cited  to  make  a  deposition  he  describes  himself 
under  oath  as  "  William  Shakespeare,  of  Stratford-super-Avon  in 
the  County  of  Warwickshire:  Gentleman."  This  is  important, 
most  important,  not  because  we  have  not  always  been  assured  by 
the  standard  biographers  that  Shakespeare  was  entitled  to  be  so 
described — but  because  here  he,  himself,  says  so  under  oath.  This 
disposes  of  the  doubters  (and  there  are  not  a  few  of  them,  and 
more  at  present  than  ever  before)  who  have  claimed  that  the 
William  Shakespeare  of  theatrical  connection  in  London  was  not, 
and  could  not  be  identified  with,  the  William  Shakespeare  of  Strat- 
f  ord-on-Avon ! 

Dr.  Wallace  is  to  be  especially  congratulated  upon  unearthing 
these  invaluable  documents,  because,  just  prior  to  his  searches  there, 
an  Englishman,  the  late  James  Greenstreet,  had  been  stimulated 
by  his  friend,  Dr.  Halliwell-Phillipps  (who  always  maintained 
that  in  this  same  Public  Records  Office  would  be  found  large  yields 
of  Shakespearean  information),  to  conduct  investigations  there. 
Mr.  Greenstreet's  sudden  death  prevented  him  unearthing  much, 
but  he  did  find  these  two  entries : 

1599,  June  30,  London,  George  Fenner  to  his  partner  Baltazar 
Gybeis  Antwerp,  Therle  of  Darby  is  busyed  only  in 
penning  comedies  for  the  common  plaiers.* 

1599,  June  30,  London,  George  Fenner  to  Sir  Humfredo  Gal- 
delii  or  Guiseppe  Tusinga  Venice.  Our  earle  of  Darby 
is  busye  in  penning  commodyes  for  the  commoun 
players.f 

Now  the  fifth  and  sixth  Earls  of  Derby  were  Catholics,  and 
these  items  are  original  intercepted  letters  in  answer  to  inquiries 
whether  it  would  be  well  to  call  the  attention  of  the  then  Earl 
of  Derby  to  a  project  then  in  hand  looking  to  a  Catholic  movement. 
The  connection  with  Shakespeare  is,  that  this  very  Earl  of  Derby 
was  the  real  patron  of  the  company  of  players  of  which  Shake- 

* State  Papers,  Domestic,  Elizabeth,  vol.   271,  no.  34. 
Mbid,,   no.   35. 


1913-]        SHAKESPEARE:   RECENT  DISCOVERIES  735 

speare   was   a  member,   which   was   known   as   "  Lord   Strange's 
Company." 

I  do  not  agree  with  many  of  my  colleagues  in  these  studies 
who  can  see  nothing  good  about  Lord  Bacon,  or  without  crying 
that  his  ingratitude  to  Essex  covers  all  he  ever  did  with  infamy! 
etc.  Queen  Elizabeth  ordered  Lord  Bacon  to  take  the  part  he  did 
in  Essex's  trial;  and  if  he  had  not  obeyed,  his  own  head  would 
not  have  been  worth  an  hour's  purchase.  I  cannot  see  that  it 
would  have  been  impossible  for  Shakespeare  in  "  taking  humours 
of  men  daily "  (as  Aubrey  says  he  did)  to  have  absorbed  or 
appropriated  somewhat  that  came  from  so  prolific  a  pen  as  Bacon's 
was.  "  That  I  light  my  candle  at  another  man's  candle  does  not 
destroy  my  property  in  my  own  wick  and  my  own  wax,"  said 
Jonathan  Swift.  And,  as  I  am  laying  down  my  own  Shakespeare 
exegetics,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  cannot  say  more,  nor  well  say  less, 
as  to  the  sundry  contested  physical  sources  of  the  Shakespeare  text ! 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Bowden  has  grouped  in  his  fine  book,  The 
Religion  of  Shakespeare,  the  internal  proofs  of  all  these  matters 
as  to  which  it  has  been  my  limited  province  in  this  paper  to  present 
some  minor  items  of  physical  valuation.  Perhaps  I  may  note — 
though  not  necessarily  as  a  part  of  my  argument — that  Warwick- 
shire was,  all  through  those  troublous  Elizabethan  years  of  the 
Old  Faith,  the  headquarters  of  the  Catholic  Party.  And  it  is 
notable  that,  when  William  Shakespeare  applied  to  the  Herald's 
College  for  a  grant  of  coat  armor  for  John  Shakespeare,  the  tricking 
of  the  proposed  arms  made  by  the  Herald  followed  the  arms  of 
Nicholas  Breakspeare,  the  first  English  Pope,  Hadrian  the  Fourth. 

The  Rev.  Richard  Davies,  in  or  about  the  year  1685,  and  using 
a  substantive  that  betrayed  himself  as,  no  less  than  Carlyle,  an 
unwilling  witness,  testified  that  Shakespeare  "died  a  Papist."  From 
the  foregoing  it  appears  that  Shakespeare  not  only  died,  but  was 
born  and  lived  a  loyal  Catholic. 


A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT. 

BY  THOMAS  J.  GERRARD. 

T  an  exhibition  of  Futurist  pictures  in  Rome  there  was 
a  free  fight.  What  was  its  significance?  People 
usually  keep  their  fists  for  politics  or  religion.  Is 
there  possibly  something  of  both  in  Futurism? 
Politics  has  to  do  with  authority  in  secular  matters; 
religion  with  authority  in  spiritual  matters.  So  in  this  free  fight 
amongst  the  sight-seers  of  a  picture  gallery,  we  may  see  a  symptom 
of  the  activity  of  the  time-spirit.  Futurist  art  illustrates  the  time- 
spirit  at  its  worst:  exaggerated  subjectivism,  extreme  individual- 
ism; passion  for  revolution;  lust  after  new  sensation.  It  is  self- 
perfectibility  reduced  to  absurdity. 

We  may  not  judge  the  time-spirit  solely  by  its  extreme  mani- 
festations, yet  they  help  us  to  discern  its  tendencies.  The  free 
fight  in  the  Roman  picture  gallery  shows  that  there  is  question 
of  authority  and  independence. 

We  may  describe  the  time-spirit  as  a  general  tendency  to 
exaggerate  subjective  claims  at  the  expense  of  objective  evidence. 
This  general  tendency  manifests  itself  in  particular  tendencies,  all 
undervaluing  authority — the  authority  of  evidence;  the  authority 
of  God;  the  authority  of  Christ;  the  authority  of  the  Church. 

Against  the  authority  of  evidence  it  attaches  too  much  value 
to  subjective  moods  and  impulses.  Man  must  realize  himself,  it 
says,  must  develop  himself  along  the  lines  of  his  own  nature.  A 
sound  principle  truly,  if  only  the  time-spirit  would  take  an  adequate 
view  of  man's  nature.  If  the  time-spirit  has  discovered  that  man 
is  not  merely  a  rational  animal,  it  must  still  admit  that  he  is 
a  rational  animal.  If  it  has  discovered  that  he  is  an  autonomous 
organism,  it  must  still  admit  that  he  is  a  member  of  a  larger  and 
more  complex  organism. 

Regarding  the  individual,  the  time-spirit  is  blind  to  the  right 
relationship  of  intellect,  will,  and  feeling.  To  the  impulse  of  pas- 
sion is  often  given  a  higher  place  than  to  intelligent  will.  And 
it  ignores  in  the  corporate  organism  the  value  of  collective  judg- 
ments. The  time-spirit  professes  to  be  up  to  date,  but  it  has  not 
yet  learned  the  new  science  of  the  psychology  of  crowds. 


1913-]  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT  737 

What  is  the  genesis  of  this  individualism?  Kant  fouled  the 
sources  of  thought  by  confusing  subject  and  object.  Then  Niet- 
zsche fouled  the  sources  of  conduct  by  confusing  intelligent  volition 
and  sensual  appetite.  The  practical  result  in  the  multitude  is  a 
taste  for  vagueness  of  thought,  lower  morality,  and  decadent  art. 

Against  the  authority  of  God,  the  time-spirit  manifests  itself 
in  some  form  of  monism,  either  a  pantheism  or  a  humanism. 

The  effect  of  either  is  to  veil  man's  mind  as  to  his  proper 
destiny,  and  to  confuse  his  method  of  attaining  it.  For  if  man  be 
God  or  a  part  of  God,  he  is  responsible  only  to  himself,  and  knows 
no  law  other  than  his  own.  Or  if  he  adopt  a  humanist  concept 
of  life,  he  still  appeals  only  to  himself  as  final  arbiter  of  good 
and  evil.  All  the  boasted  altruism  of  humanism  is  but  egoism 
making  grimace. 

The  time-spirit  meets  the  authority  of  Christ,  either  with  a 
frank  denial  of  our  Lord's  Divinity  or  the  exaltation  of  every  man 
to  a  divinity  equal  to  His  in  kind,  if  not  in  degree.  In  its  attitude 
towards  the  Church,  however,  we  find  its  most  remarkable  phenom- 
enon. Herein  the  twentieth  century  time-spirit  differs  from  that 
of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  nineteenth  century  spirit  professed  to  return  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  Christ  by  casting  off  the  accretions  of  Romanism.  The 
twentieth  century  is  inclined  to  allow  that  Christ's  intentions  and 
modern  Roman  Catholic  intentions  are  one  and  the  same.  When 
Christ,  for  instance,  said :  "  This  is  my  Body,"  He  enunciated 
the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine  of  transubstantiation.  When  He  said : 
"  Thou  art  Peter,"  He  enunciated  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine  of 
Papal  infallibility.  But  since  these  things  are  absurd,  Christ  must 
have  been  wrong.  German  subjectivism  sees  only  a  German  Christ. 

Turning  from  the  rationalist  to  the  pragmatist  phase  of  the 
time-spirit,  we  hear  that  the  authority  of  the  Roman  Church 
differs  in  degree  only,  not  in  kind,  from  that  of  the  other  Churches. 
She  may  have  kept  alive  some  truth,  having  devotional  value, 
which  other  Churches  have  allowed  to  flicker  out.  Her  authority 
is  allowed  to  be  similar  to  that  of  Christ,  but  dependent  entirely 
on  subjective  needs  and  exigencies.  When  the  very  pertinent 
question  is  asked,  who  shall  judge  what  is  of  healthy  devotional 
value?  the  answer  must  be  sought  in  the  region  of  pure  subjectivism. 
French  pragmatism  sees  only  a  French  Christ. 

The  problem  of  dealing  with  these  tendencies  is  not  solved  by 
a  wholesale  condemnation  of  them.  It  is  the  ever-recurring  prob- 

VOL.  xcvii.— 47 


738  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT          [Sept., 

lem  of  how  to  deal  with  human  passions.  Now  human  passions 
are  not  bad  in  themselves.  They  are  only  bad  when  they  escape 
intelligent  control.  Reduced  to  intelligent  control  they  are  all  good. 
So  the  aspirations  of  the  time-spirit  are  not  to  be  destroyed.  Their 
due  claims  must  be  recognized,  their  rights  allowed.  But  limits 
must  be  set.  They  must  be  adjusted  to  the  higher  claims  of  the 
Spirit  of  God. 

This  brings  us  to  the  formulation  of  our  challenge  in  the 
words  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount :  "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom 
of  God  and  His  justice,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto 
you." 

We  call  it  a  challenge  rather  than  an  invitation,  because  it 
implies  a  venture.  Yet  we  are  not  asking  for  a  blind  venture. 
The  evidence  justifying  it  is  not  such  as  to  exclude  all  doubt,  but 
only  such  as  to  exclude  imprudent  doubt.  Otherwise  there  would 
be  no  venture,  and  consequently  no  reward. 

The  reasonableness  of  the  challenge  and  the  prudence  of  the 
venture  may  be  gathered  from  the  harmony  which  exists  between 
the  revelation  of  Jesus  and  the  discoveries,  or  rather  re-discoveries, 
of  modern  psychology.  The  revelation  of  Jesus  declared  a  sover- 
eignty of  the  Spirit  over  the  whole  universe,  nature  and  super- 
nature.  There  are  not  two  Gods,  a  God  of  nature  and  a  God  of 
grace,  at  variance  with  each  other. 

The  world  of  matter  and  the  world  of  spirit,  all  subordinated 
to  the  sovereignty  of  the  one  God,  make  up  one  beautiful  and 
harmonious  cosmos.  Again,  the  mind  of  man,  made  and  taught 
under  the  same  sovereignty  of  the  same  Spirit,  constitutes  a  micro- 
cosmos.  The  spiritual,  psychic,  and  physical  laws,  which  minister 
to  its  progress,  are  all  reflections  of  the  mind  of  the  one  Spirit. 
Nature  is  made  perfect  in  grace. 

But  it  is  precisely  the  unity  of  the  mind  which  modern  psy- 
chology insists  on  most.  Newman,  full  of  the  philosophy  of  the 
Scotch  school  rather  than  that  of  the  scholastics,  declares  for  an 
illative  sense  whose  ratiocination  and  judgment  shall  sum  up  all 
the  truth  known  by  the  individual,  be  it  natural  or  revealed.  In- 
deed, it  was  the  fashion  some  time  ago  for  modern  writers  like 
Mr.  Sully  to  sneer  at  the  scholastic  theory,  as  if  it  meant  that  the 
human  faculties  were  bound  together  like  a  bundle  of  sticks.  But 
a  deeper  study  of  St.  Thomas,  and  his  exploitation  by  the  neo- 
scholastics,  has  brought  about  a  recognition  of  his  doctrine  of  the 
complete  organic  unity  of  the  human  ego. 


1913.]  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT  739 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  we  find  these  principles  worked 
out  in  further  detail.  Just  as  in  the  natural  order  intellectual  gifts 
are  given  for  the  purpose  of  attaining  happiness  or  well-being,  so 
also  in  the  supernatural  order  Jesus  assigned  a  special  happiness 
to  each  infused  intellectual  gift. 

To  the  gift  of  common  sense  there  corresponds  the  happiness 
of  clear  vision.  "  Blessed  are  the  clean  of  heart,  for  they  shall 
see  God."  The  divine  gift  of  common  sense  tells  us  that  God, 
being  a  Spirit,  cannot  adequately  be  represented  by  phantasms 
or  by  heretical  ideas.  This  same  common  sense  tells  that  contra- 
dictory religions  cannot  all  be  true.  The  sovereignty  of  the  Spirit 
must  be  obeyed  when  It  speaks.  Thus  common  sense,  making  the 
venture  of  faith,  is  rewarded  with  a  dim  vision  of  God  here,  and 
a  clear  vision  of  Him  hereafter. 

To  the  gift  of  science  there  corresponds  the  happiness  of 
fighting  for  the  truth  and  of  the  satisfaction  of  gaining  the  truth. 
"  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  (lugent,  luctus),  for  they  shall  be 
comforted." 

In  the  acquisition  of  science,  especially  the  science  of  the  spirit- 
ual life,  the  battle  is  not  merely  against  ignorance,  but  also  against 
sin.  Whenever  St.  Thomas  was  about  to  sit  down  to  study  he  used 
to  offer  up  the  prayer :  "  Thou  Who  art  called  the  true  fountain 
of  light  and  the  primary  source  of  all  wisdom,  deign  to  shed  on 
the  darkness  of  my  intellect  a  ray  of  Thy  brightness,  that  it  may 
remove  from  me  the  double  darkness  in  which  I  was  born,  namely, 
sin  and  ignorance." 

Now  in  the  theological  conflict  there  is  nothing  more  mean  and 
contemptible  than  the  trick  of  imputing  bad  motives  to  those  who 
differ  from  us.  It  is  simply  vile  to  impute  sin  where,  for  all  we 
know,  there  may  be  only  ignorance.  Nevertheless  all  seekers  after 
truth  do  well  to  examine  their  consciences.  Have  you  some  plan 
of  sin  before  you?  Are  you  fooling  with  some  occasion  of  sin? 
If  so,  then  you  are  not  in  a  fit  condition  to  form  judgments  as 
between  faith  and  science,  as  between  Catholicism  and  Modernism, 
as  between  one  Church  and  another  Church.  Spiritual  things  are 
spiritually  discerned.  But  if  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  seek 
first  the  sovereignty  of  the  Spirit,  then  the  conflict  is  a  happy  one, 
then  your  travails  are  sustained  by  the  glory  of  the  cause,  then 
you  know  that  in  the  end  you  shall  be  comforted,  for  all  those 
psychic  harmonies  which  you  so  keenly  desire  shall  be  added  unto 
you. 


740  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT          [Sept., 

To  the  gift  of  wisdom  there  corresponds  the  happiness  of 
peace.  Wisdom  is  that  virtue  of  the  intellect  which  puts  things  in 
order.  The  wise  man  is  he  who  knows  how  to  order  vast  com- 
plexities into  one  unity.  Peace  is  not  a  quietness  brought  about  by 
senseless  force.  Peace  is  the  tranquillity  of  order.  And  this  hap- 
piness follows  on  the  gift  of  wisdom.  "  Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers, for  they  shall  be  called  the  sons  of  God."  In  them  the 
passions  have  been  reduced  to  order  under  the  dominion  of  intelli- 
gence. In  them  the  natural  faculties  have  been  subordinated  to  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Spirit.  They  have  "  been  made  conformable  to 
the  image  of  His  Son."  Theirs  is  not  the  wisdom  of  the  flesh, 
"  for  the  wisdom  of  the  flesh  is  death,  but  the  wisdom  of  the  Spirit 
is  life  and  peace." 

We  ask  the  time-spirit  again :  Do  you  wish  to  make  common 
sense  the  basis  of  your  operations  ?  Do  you  wish  to  follow  a  strictly 
scientific  method,  treating  man  as  he  is  known  to  history?  Do 
you  wish  to  act  according  to  the  highest  wisdom?  Will  you  probe 
into  the  causes  of  causes  and  take  into  account  the  Cause  of  all 
other  causes;  will  you  consider  the  effects  of  effects  and  look  for- 
ward to  the  final  effect  of  them  all? 

First,  then,  put  your  economics  under  the  sovereignty  of  the 
Spirit.  Remember  that  your  workmen  are  not  your  goods  and 
chattels,  but,  like  you,  are  sons  of  God  and  your  brethren.  Eight- 
een shillings  a  week  is  not  a  living  wage.  Some  of  our  latest 
students  will  tell  you  that  if  you  give  your  workmen  more  wages, 
you  will  get  more  work  out  of  them,  and  that  from  the  point  of 
view  of  mammon  you  are  making  a  good  investment.  But  if  you 
take  that  as  your  primary  motive,  you  will  have  missed  the  whole 
point  of  the  divine  economics.  You  must  seek  first  the  sovereignty 
of  the  Spirit  and  the  dignity  of  the  sons  of  God.  And  you  must 
wait  for  the  result  as  it  is  distributed  by  the  same  Spirit. 

Secondly,  put  your  family  and  social  life  under  the  sovereignty 
of  the  Spirit.  The  Spirit  happens  to  have  chosen  the  family  as 
the  foundation  of  the  social  organism.  Whenever,  therefore,  pro- 
posals are  made,  purporting  to  improve  the  race  by  changing  the 
conditions  of  the  marriage  state,  examine  them  in  their  social 
as  well  as  in  their  individual  aspect;  in  their  intellectual  and  moral 
as  well  as  in  their  physical  aspect;  in  their  eternal  as  well  as  in 
their  temporal  aspect.  In  nearly  all  the  reforms  suggested  by 
eugenists,  and  those  who  would  facilitate  divorce,  there  is  some 
apparently  good  reason.  But  that  show  of  reason  is  only  ob- 


1913-]  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT  741 

tained  by  fixing  the  attention  on  the  material  rather  than  the 
spiritual;  on  the  individual  or  on  favored  sections  of  the  com- 
munity rather  than  on  the  whole  social  organism;  on  a  very  limited 
period  of  time  rather  than  on  all  time  and  all  eternity.  In  the 
long  run,  the  material,  the  individual,  and  the  temporal  well-being 
also  suffer,  for  the  sovereignty  of  the  eternal,  all-loving  Spirit  must 
be  counted  with  first,  and  then  the  measure  of  material  and  spiritual 
happiness  will  be  breathed  forth  by  Him  according  to  His  all- 
knowing  wisdom. 

Thirdly,  put  your  fine  arts  under  the  sovereignty  of  the  Spirit. 
They  pertain  even  more  to  the  Spirit  than  do  the  useful  arts. 
They  are  of  their  very  nature  free.  They  are  the  expression  of 
the  human  spirit  that  has  freed  itself  from  certain  of  the  deter- 
minations and  limitations  of  the  flesh.  There  are  two  chief  reasons 
why  the  artist  should  make  the  quest  of  this  sovereignty  his  lead- 
ing motive.  The  power  of  self-control  which  it  gives  to  him 
enlarges  and  strengthens  his  craftsmanship.  The  ideal  which  it 
gives  to  him  widens  his  field  of  vision,  and  multiplies  his  sources 
of  inspiration. 

The  time-spirit,  however,  moving  through  the  fine  arts,  seems 
to  be  bent  only  on  the  quest  of  formlessness.  Now  the  formless 
can  never  be  beautiful.  And  that  is  why  our  age  is  so  sterile  in 
poetry,  in  music,  in  drama,  in  painting,  in  sculpture.  It  has  turned 
its  face  away  from  the  Archetype  of  all  beautiful  forms.  It  has 
cut  itself  off  from  the  source  of  liberal  inspiration.  We  venture 
to  say  plainly  to  it:  If  you  are  tired  of  the  old  forms  which  are 
in  our  museums  and  galleries  and  libraries,  if  you  want  new  forms 
which  shall  please  you  as  much  and  perhaps  more  than  the  old  ones, 
go  look  for  them  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Spirit.  That  is  the  treas- 
ure-house of  old  things  and  new.  Have  a  little  common  sense. 
Use  your  wits.  Cease  to  be  dragged  and  shoved  and  hustled  by 
your  impulses. 

Fourthly,  put  your  philosophy  under  the  sovereignty  of  the 
Spirit.  But,  you  will  ask,  is  not  that  begging  the  question?  It 
is  a  semblance  of  it,  certainly,  but  only  a  semblance.  St.  Augus- 
tine masters  the  subtlety  of  the  situation  when  he  writes :  "  I  could 
not  have  sought  Thee  unless  I  had  already  found  Thee."  We  have 
granted  that  the  quest  is  towards  a  prudent  venture,  not  towards 
a  blatant  certainty. 

If  this  be  a  seeming  begging  of  the  question,  the  other  alterna- 
tive is  a  real  one.  If  you  take  for  granted  that  there  is  no  over- 


742  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT          [Sept., 

ruling  Spirit,  if  you  take  for  granted  that  there  is  nothing  of  the 
nature  of  spirit  in  man,  and  that  what  we  call  thought  is  nothing  but 
a  kind  of  sensation,  then  you  have  not  only  failed  to  make  the 
venture,  but  you  have  also  hopelessly  begged  the  question.  Let  us 
say  it  again :  our  challenge  is  to  a  venture. 

Fifthly,  put  your  theology  under  the  sovereignty  of  the  Spirit. 
You  seek  a  more  perfect  knowledge  of  the  divine  immanence.  You 
will  not  find  it  unless  you  first  seek  a  more  perfect  knowledge  of 
the  divine  transcendence.  Either  you  follow  Spinoza,  and  hold 
that  God  and  nature  are  identical,  or  you  follow  Hegel,  and  hold 
that  nature  is  a  mode  of  God's  being,  a  necessary  phase  of  His 
self-realization.  With  Spinoza  you  make  God  and  nature  two 
different  aspects  of  the  same  substance.  With  Hegel  you  allow 
that  God  is  more  than  nature,  at  least  in  the  order  of  thought,  if 
not  in  the  order  of  time. 

But  neither  of  these  forms  of  immanence  satisfy  the  demands 
of  wisdom,  science  or  common  sense,  for  neither  admits  a  doctrine 
of  real  transcendence.  God's  immanence  must  be  transcendent,  and 
His  transcendence  must  be  immanent.  They  are  attributes,  the 
distinction  of  which  exists  only  in  our  minds,  not  in  God. 

Ask  yourself  in  your  pragmatic  way,  what  ought  to  be  the 
pragmatic  value  of  the  divine  immanence?  You  must  admit  that 
it  is  to  explain  to  us,  in  some  manner,  the  sweet  accessibility  of 
God  to  the  human  soul.  Now  examine  your  conscience,  and  ask 
yourself  what  has  the  pragmatic  value  of  your  doctrine  of  imma- 
nence become  ?  You  must  admit  that  it  has  been  to  exalt  man  to 
the  level  of  a  divinity;  to  make  him  a  law  unto  himself;  to  inflate 
him  with  a  sense  of  absolute  independence  and  absolute  self-per- 
fectibility. 

No.  Before  you  can  properly  appreciate  the  pragmatic  value 
of  true  immanence,  you  must  understand  something  of  the  prag- 
matic value  of  true  transcendence.  It  explains  to  us  the  absolute 
independence  of  God  and  our  absolute  dependence  on  him.  It 
is  His  sovereignty,  both  in  the  order  of  being  and  in  the  order 
of  thought,  which  comes  first.  Seek  you  first  the  sovereignty  of 
God,  and  then  your  true  dignity  and  happiness  will  be  added  unto 
you. 

There  were  those  in  our  Lord's  time  to  whom  the  Baptist 
came  with  this  same  doctrine  of  the  divine  transcendence  immanent 
in  the  world.  But  they  would  not  believe  it.  Jesus  said  to  them : 
"  Amen  I  say  to  you,  that  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  shall  go 


1913-]  A  CHALLENGE  TO  THE  TIME-SPIRIT  743 

into  the  kingdom  of  God  before  you  " — the  publicans  and  the  harlots 
who  had  believed.* 

The  same  psychological  laws  are  operative  in  us  as  in  our 
Lord's  hearers.  In  us,  as  in  them,  the  same  Spirit  worketh.  To 
us,  as  to  them,  the  same  challenge  is  given.  If  we  wish  to  make 
the  best  use  of  the  material  world,  we  must  subordinate  it  to  the 
spiritual.  If  we  wish  to  develop  our  own  characters  and  per- 
sonalities to  the  highest  extent  of  their  potential  obedience  (potentia 
obedientialis),  we  must  submit  to  the  operative  action  of  the  Holy 
Spirit. 

.There  is  a  natural  preparation,  however,  for  this  temporal 
mission  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Every  act  is  conditioned  by  the 
potency  into  which  it  is  received.  The  fruitful  operation  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  presupposes  that  the  various  faculties  of  man  are  in 
fair  working  order,  the  intellect  guiding  the  will,  the  will  controlling 
the  passions.  The  acts  of  natural  preparation  and  supernatural 
operation  may  be  intimately  commingled,  but  with,  at  least,  a 
theoretical  distinction  between  them. 

Thus  the  challenge  to  make  a  due  equipoise  between  the  king- 
dom of  the  Spirit  and  the  kingdom  of  the  flesh  involves  an  equi- 
poise between  intelligence  and  sensation;  between  objective  in- 
fluences and  subjective  receptiveness ;  between  authority  and  auton- 
omy. 

Hence  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  sane  subjectivism.  The  ob- 
jective world  must  be  subjectively  appraised.  The  difference  be- 
tween a  moderate  and  an  exaggerated  subjectivism  is,  that  the  one  is 
rightly  informed;  the  other  either  uninformed  or  misinformed. 

How,  then,  can  the  subjective  be  rightly  informed  ?  By  using 
our  wits.  If  a  man  accepts  a  proposition  because  it  is  beautiful 
or  because  it  is  good,  it  is  not  yet  a  permanent  light  to  him. 
He  must  also  accept  it  because  it  is  true.  He  must  use  his  wits 
as  well  as  his  sympathies. 

It  may  savor  of  platitude,  yet  we  dare  to  write  it  down: 
What  the  time-spirit  mostly  needs  is  a  little  common  sense.  If 
we  would  be  saved  from  mental  suicide,  let  us  not  be  tempted  from 
our  platform  of  common  sense. 

*Matt.  xxi.  31,  32. 


IN  MEMORIAM:  FATHER  DOYLE. 

(Died  August  9,  1912.) 
BY  MAURICE  FRANCIS  EGAN. 

THE  rippling  dawn  the  beech  wood  crowned, 

The  nightingale  sang  one  last  note, 

The  sun  upon  the  water  wrote 
The  aubade  of  the  glorious  sound; 

Yet  desolate 

This  splendid  morn  for  us  who  wait! 

For  us  who  felt  the  light  and  cheer 
Of  him  whose  life  was  one  pure  flame, 
That  burned  out  thoughts  of  pride  and  shame, 

And  made  our  doubtful  vision  clear; 
He  was  the  morn 
In  which  new  hopes  and  joys  were  born! 

The  Junes  were  once  so  full  of  him, 

Who  "was  as  warm  and  kind  as  June! 

Above  the  clouds  the  August  moon 
Is  shadowed  to  a  silver  rim; 

He  passed  from  sight — 

A  moon  upon  an  August  night ! 

The  nightingale  in  sombre  leaves 

Of  his  great  soul  a  symbol  is — 

So  deeply  hid  that  heart  of  his ! 
So  deeply  hid  the  bird  that  grieves, 

And  yet  his  voice 

Makes  our  poor,  longing  souls  rejoice. 


1913-]  IN  MEMORIAM:  FATHER  DOYLE  745 

Who  knew  this  soul  were  not  the  gay 

Or  pompous  or  the  proud  of  heart, 

But  those  to  whom  the  bitter  part 
Oft  made  them  hate  the  light  of  day, 

What  words  can  tell 

How  sweet  his  benedictions  fell! 


How  useless  words!    A  voiceless  prayer, 
Perhaps  the  paintings  of  the  sky, 
Or  hay-scent  where  the  cornflowers  lie, 

Or  music  in  the  summer  air, 
May  fitly  speak 
The  grace — his  grace — to  help  the  weak. 

But  when  I  heard  the  nightingale 

Thrill  through  the  leaves  upon  the  beech, 
I  knew  that  his  was  the  one  speech 

That  from  my  dumbness  rent  the  veil; 
Sweet,  strong  and  sweet, 
His  message  thrilled  out,  true  and  meet. 

Against  his  heart  he  pressed  the  cross, 
Its  message  was  in  all  his  voice, 
And  through  that  sorrow  we  rejoice: 

(The  pain  of  loss!  the  pain  of  loss!. 
Sad  August  day!) 
And  yet  Our  Lady  led  the  way. 


THE  RED  ASCENT. 

BY  ESTHER  W.    NEILL. 

ICHARD  dismounted  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd, 
and  pushed  his  way  through  the  human  wall  that  sur- 
rounded the  main  shaft  of  the  mine.  Men,  women, 
and  little  children  were  there,  all  drawn  together 
by  that  pitiful  cry  for  help  that  Richard  had  heard 
in  the  arbor. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  asked  of  one  of  the  on- 
lookers. 

The  old  miner,  his  face  blackened  by  coal  dust,  shifted  his  quid 
of  tobacco  and  answered  calmly :  "  Little  fire  in  the  mine,  or  mebbe 
it's  only  the  smoke  from  the  last  shots  that  was  fired.  All  the 
men  out,  thank  God.  Half  holiday — we  all  come  out  on  the  one- 
thirty  cage,  but  that  thar  woman  says  they  ain't  all  out !  " 

"  My  Peter,  my  Peter,"  cried  a  mother's  frantic  voice,  "  he 
is  down  there  I  know.  He  staid  to  feed  the  mules.  He  is  not 
out.  He  is  not  home." 

"  He's  drinking  whiskey  in  the  village,"  said  one  brutal  by- 
stander. 

"  No — no — my  Peter  is  but  fourteen.  For  God's  sake,  mister, 
let  down  the  cage.  I  will  go  myself  to  find  him." 

"  I  believe  thar's  others,"  said  one  young  miner  scratching  his 
head.  "  I  ain't  seen  Costi,  nor  Angelo,  nor  Foliano.  These  here 
dagoes  don't  know  enough  English  to  keep  them  alive.  Boss 
went  round  notifying  the  diggers  to  quit,  and  I  reckon  they  never 
heard  him." 

"Where's  the  superintendent?"  asked  Richard. 

"  I  tell  you  this  is  a  holiday." 

"  Where's  the  mine  manager  ?  " 

"  God  knows." 

"  Haven't  you  any  system  of  checking  off  the  men  ?  " 

"  Dunno ;  that  thar  superintendent  is  a  young  fellow,  and 
he  ain't  worth  his  salt.  Never  was  a  mine  run  like  this  one." 

"Where's  the  pit  boss?" 

"  Pit  boss  ain't  obliged  to  stay  round  here  all  the  time.  I  tell 
you  this  is  a  holiday,  and  I  reckon  the  pit  boss  is  off  on  a  spree.  I 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  747 

ain't  going  down  there  to  rescue  no  blind  mules — ain't  nothing  but 
one  of  the  mule  boys  been  smoking  in  the  stable." 

"  Maybe  it  ain't  nothing  but  a  hay  wagon  on  fire,  but  I  ain't 
sure,"  said  one  of  the  men.  "  Here,  Jake,  let  down  that  cage. 
There  sure  is  smoke;  ain't  anybody  round  here  got  the  sense  he 
was  born  with  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Richard  quietly. 

The  two  men  stood  out,  leaders  in  the  little  impotent  crowd, 
and  two  others  came  forward  to  join  them  as  they  stepped  into  the 
cage.  There  was  some  talk  of  signals,  the  engineer  nodded  as  if 
he  understood,  and  the  careless  crowd  watched  with  some  degree 
of  interest  as  the  cage  slowly  descended  into  the  cavernous 
depths. 

The  terror-stricken  mother,  finding  solace  in  this  attempt  at 
rescue,  stopped  crying  and  began  to  pray :  "  Holy  Virgin — guide 
him — save  him !  God  have  mercy — lead  him — spare  him !  " 

"  They'll  have  the  fire  out  in  no  time,"  said  the  old  miner 
comfortingly.  "  They  can  hitch  up  the  hose  and  get  water  in  the 
air  pump." 

"  Ain't  the  first  time  a  hay  wagon  took  fire." 

"  Pete's  out  bird-nesting." 

"  Bet  your  life  no  boy's  goin'  to  stay  in  that  hole  on  a  holi- 
day." 

"  Ain't  got  any  business  lightin'  a  mine  with  kerosene." 

"  Well  you  can't  work  in  the  dark." 

"  Ain't  got  no  electricity." 

"Why?" 

"  Main  cable's   water   soaked." 

"Wa'n't  that  a  signal?" 

"  No,  they  ain't  belled  yet." 

A  tense  hush  of  expectation  fell  upon  the  crowd.  On  the 
wooded  hill  around  them  birds  chirruped  joyfully;  bees  droned  in 
and  out  of  the  pink  cups  of  the  wild  honeysuckle;  the  calm  peace 
of  the  summer  afternoon  seemed  to  preclude  calamity. 

"  Looks  like  more  smoke  coming  out  the  shaft." 

"My  Lord!  see  that  flame.  What's  the  matter  with  Jake? 
Why  don't  he  hoist  that  cage?  " 

"  Stop  the  fan.     Don't  yer  see  yer  feeding  the  fire  ?  " 

"  For  God's  sake,  Jake,  hoist  that  cage." 

"  He's  waitin'  for  the  signal." 

"  Who's  that  comin'  down  the  road?  " 


748  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Sept., 

"  Miss  Fielding  riding  like  mad.  Wish  to  the  Lord  it  was 
the  superintendent." 

"  Hoist  that  cage,  man — that  mine's  ablaze !  " 

The  old  engineer  looked  through  the  smeared  window  of  the 
engine  house,  an  agonized  expression  of  uncertainty  in  his 
eyes. 

"  They  said  three  bells — three  bells,"  he  repeated  defensively. 
"  I  ain't  heard  'em  yet." 

"  Hoist  that  cage,  you  crazy  fool — that  rope's  a-shaking.  Hoist 
'em,  I  tell  you,  you're  cooking  'em  alive." 

The  crowd,  at  first  so  tranquil  in  its  disbelief  of  possible  trag- 
edy, was  now  roused  to  a  frenzy  of  hysteria.  As  the  cage  ascended 
a  sickening  stench  filled  the  soft  summer  air,  flames  shot  upward 
from  the  shaft.  Women  shrieked.  The  cage  itself  was  full  of 
fire.  Six  human  bodies  were  ablaze.  The  miners  rushed  to  the 
rescue,  but  there  was  a  scarcity  of  water.  Men  beat  out  the  flames 
with  their  coats,  with  the  shawls  they  snatched  from  the  women's 
shoulders,  but  their  comrades  lay  blackened  and  inert  before  them, 
their  hands  and  feet  drawn  up  in  convulsive  postures ;  one  of  them, 
in  his  effort  to  escape  the  flames,  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
cage,  but  he  had  perished  like  the  rest.  The  old  engineer  had 
obeyed  his  orders  too  well — he  had  hesitated  too  long.  As  they 
lifted  the  six  bodies,  one  by  one,  from  the  smoking  cage  and  bore 
them  by  his  window,  he  sank  on  the  floor  beside  his  engine,  over- 
come by  the  terrible  catastrophe  he  had  caused. 

Peter's  mother  clawed  at  the  dead  men's  clothes  like  a  wild 
creature. 

"  He  is  not  here,"  she  cried.  "  My  Peter  is  not  here.  They 
are  men,  all  men.  My  Peter  is  but  a  boy." 

"  And  the  young  man,"  said  the  old  miner  to  whom  Richard 
had  first  spoken.  "  Where  is  the  young  man  ?  " 

Miss  Fielding  was  beside  him,  her  face  white  with  terror. 
"  Did — did  Dick  Matterson — go — down — there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  him,  I  recollect  now — the  Colonel's  son.  God ! 
it's  an  awful  way  to  die."  Tears  fell  unregarded  down  his  rugged 
face.  "  They  can't  have  brought  him  out ;  those  men  are  all  under- 
sized— they — three  of  them  are  dagoes." 

She  clasped  his  ragged  coat  sleeve  and  leaned  heavily  on  his 
arm.  "  We — we — must — do  something,"  she  cried. 

"  We  can't  now,  lady,"  he  said  with  the  dull  resignation  of  age. 
"  The  timbers  have  caught  fire.  No  man  could  live  to  get  down 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  749 

there.     Fire  must  have  been  burning  ever  since  we  quit  work. 
Thar  ain't  no  help  could  reach  him  now." 

Jefferson  Wilcox,  touring  gaily  along  the  country  roads  with 
Betty  and  the  Colonel,  stopped  his  machine  abruptly  when  he  saw 
the  crowd  gathered  about  the  mine. 

"  Looks  like  something  had  happened  over  there,"  he  said 
carelessly.  "  I  thought  the  men  stopped  work  at  three- thirty." 

The  Colonel  was  not  much  interested.  "  Reckon  one  of  the 
niggers  has  fallen  down  the  shaft  and  broken  his  good-for-nothing 
neck,"  he  said. 

"Oh!  hear  that,"  cried  Betty  starting  from  her  seat.  "Wo- 
men are  screaming — something  dreadful  must  have  happened.  Go 
on,  Mr.  Wilcox.  Let  us  go  and  see." 

"  We're  on  the  wrong  road.  I'll  have  to  go  around.  Machine 
will  never  get  across  that  stubble  field ;  there's  a  ditch  in  the  way." 

"  Oh !  look — look !  "  cried  Betty.  "  There's  a  woman  running 
to  meet  us.  It's  Jess  Fielding.  I  wonder  where  is  Dick  ?  " 

But  Jefferson  was  heedless  of  her  question.  He  was  out  of  the 
car  hastening  to  meet  the  girl  who  came  flying  towards  them.  Her 
blue  dress  was  soiled  with  coal  dust;  her  heavy  hair,  shedding  all 
hair  pins  in  her  mad  flight,  now  hung  about  her  shoulders. 

"  Dick — Dick  is  down  there,"  she  cried  breathlessly,  pointing 
to  the  mine.  "  What  can  we  do  ?  Oh,  God !  how  can  we  save 
him?" 

Jefferson  held  out  his  arm  to  support  her,  she  was  trembling 
with  terror. 

"  Down — down  where  ?  "  and  even  as  he  asked  the  question,  he 
had  guessed  at  most  of  the  truth. 

"  He — went — to — save — a  boy,"  she  sobbed,  "  the  mine  is  on 
fire — the  other  men — are  out — and  they  are  dead,  burned  alive,  and 
Dick — Dick — is  down  there.  Don't  let  them  seal  the  mine — don't 
let  them  bury  him  alive.  Oh,  come — come  quickly,  they  say  there 
is  no  hope,  that  he  is  dead." 

"  Dead,"  repeated  the  Colonel,  and  he  seemed  to  shrivel  sud- 
denly into  a  feeble  old  man,  "  Dick  dead  in  that  hole  ?  " 

Betty  sank  down  in  the  coarse  grass,  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands.  "  You're  dreaming,  Jessica.  Oh,  tell  us  it  is  not  true." 

"  Come — come,"  she  said  wildly,  pulling  Jefferson  by  the  hand. 
"  You  must  not  let  them  shut  the  mine — they  will  not  listen  to  me. 
Come— come." 


750  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Sept., 

Jefferson  moved  mechanically.  He  could  not  speak ;  his  throat 
was  choked;  his  feet  were  leaden  weights.  Jessica  leaned  upon 
him  for  support,  sobbing  pitifully,  her  explanation  growing  more 
and  more  incoherent.  They  had  nearly  reached  the  shaft,  when 
they  heard  a  glad  shout  break  from  the  wailing  crowd,  and  they 
saw  Richard — Richard  rise,  as  if  by  a  miracle,  from  the  earth  itself. 
He  staggered  from  the  escape  shaft,  which  was  about  two  hundred 
yards  distant,  with  Peter,  the  mule  boy,  strapped  to  his  back. 

With  a  wild  cry  of  exultation,  Jefferson  rushed  forward.  The 
crowd  surged  around  him.  For  a  moment  Richard  stood  like  one 
bewildered,  blinded  by  the  sudden  glare  of  the  sunlight,  then, 
falling  down  upon  the  ground,  he  murmured  weakly : 

"  Unstrap  the  boy — I — cannot — help — " 

The  ropes  were  cut  by  eager  hands,  the  mine  doctor  hurried 
to  his  aid,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  show  his  skill  after  his  in- 
effectual efforts  to  revive  life  in  those  stricken  bodies  on  the  hill- 
side. Peter's  mother  was  pushed  to  her  son's  side,  she  knelt  beside 
him  inarticulate  in  her  joy.  After  the  suspense,  the  dread,  the 
certainty  of  death,  she  was  emotionally  exhausted. 

The  little  foreign  doctor  bent  over  Richard  solicitously,  and 
administered  his  restoratives.  "  He  will  live,  thank  God,"  he  said 
triumphantly.  "  He  is  a  hero,  and  he  will  live."  Then,  as  he  turned 
to  Peter,  the  boy  sat  up. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  he  said  in  his  shrill,  quavering  voice,  "  'twas 
my  foot.  What  yer  cryin'  about,  mother? — tain't  nothin'  but  my 
foot.  It  got  twisted  somehow  and  I  fell.  Heard  the  cage  goin' 
up  and  I  hollered.  He  came  back;  he  roped  me  on  his  back; 
said  'twan't  no  other  way  of  gettin'  up  them  steps." 

The  crowd  pressed  closer  to  hear.  Here  was  someone  at  last 
who  could  tell  them  how  the  tragedy  had  occurred — someone  who 
could  reveal  his  resurrection.  The  boy  wanted  to  talk.  After  the 
blackness,  the  isolation  of  the  mine,  he  found  relief  in  the  sound  of 
his  own  voice. 

"  I  went  to  sleep — must  have  fallen  asleep — forgot  about  the 
holiday.  That  thar  torch  must  have  dripped  kerosene  on  to  the  hay 
car.  First  thing  I  knew  it  was  afire — tried  to  push  the  car  to  the 
pump  near  the  mule  stable  to  get  water,  but  the  car  was  too  heavy ; 
then  I  saw  the  timbers  were  afire.  I  was  a-runnin'  for  the  escape 
shaft  to  hike  up  them  steps  when  my  foot  turned.  Reckon  it's 
broke,  Doc.  Reckon  I'd  been  burned  same  as  a  wisp  of  straw  if 
that  man  hadn't  heard  me  when  I  hollered." 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  75* 

He  went  on  talking  all  the  time  the  doctor  was  bandaging  the 
foot,  crying  out  once  or  twice  with  the  pain,  and  he  watched  anx- 
iously as  some  of  the  men  improvised  a  litter  to  carry  Richard  to 
the  automobile. 

Jessica  suggested  that  they  bring  Richard  to  her  house,  but  the 
Colonel,  once  assured  that  his  son  was  alive,  took  command  of  the 
situation;  he  did  not  propose  to  accept  the  Fielding  hospitality  if 
he  could  avoid  it. 

"  We  will  take  him  home,"  he  said.  "  I  will  ride  Spangles. 
Mr.  Wilcox  drive  the  car  as  slowly  as  you  can.  Doctor,  will  you 
go  with  us  ?  " 

The  doctor  acceded  willingly.  Patients  of  such  apparent  dis- 
tinction were  a  rarity  in  his  professional  experience.  The  dead 
men  lay  in  a  rigid  line  beyond  his  help;  Richard  was  the  only  one 
left  in  need  of  his  service. 

Jessica  watched  the  automobile  as  it  disappeared  in  the  black 
dust  of  the  beaten  roadway.  She  felt  weak  and  faint,  but,  in 
Richard's  greater  need,  no  one  had  given  a  thought  of  her.  She 
seemed  to  stand  alone  and  desolate  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 
Had  she  the  strength  to  mount  her  horse  and  go  home,  away  from 
this  scene  of  horror,  far  away  where  she  could  not  hear  the  con- 
vulsive sobbing  of  the  three  women  who  had  been  widowed  by 
their  husbands'  heroism,  or  were  there  more  than  three  who  had 
joined  Richard  in  his  work  of  rescue?  Someone  had  told  her,  even 
in  the  midst  of  the  excitement,  that  the  Italians  had  no  one  here 
to  mourn  them ;  they  were  newcomers.  Somewhere  perhaps  in  the 
purpling  vineyards  of  their  native  land  mothers  and  sisters  waited 
hopefully  for  glad  tidings  that  would  never  come. 

Some  compelling  force  drove  Jessica  back  to  the  group  that 
surrounded  the  dead  men.  The  bodies,  so  strong  and  full  of  health 
half  an  hour  ago,  now  lay  impotent  in  their  stillness,  their  black- 
ened faces  upturned  to  the  smiling  summer  sky.  The  three  wives, 
one  with  a  baby  at  her  breast,  were  now  sobbing  softly.  Life 
for  them  had  held  little  else  than  tragedy;  the  lines  around  their 
youthful  mouths  showed  power  to  suffer  and  endure.  Tenderly 
Jessica  lifted  the  baby  from  the  aching  arms  of  the  mother.  "Come 
home  with  me,"  she  said  to  the  weeping  women.  "  We  can  do 
nothing  here.  You  and  the  little  children  come  home  with  me." 


752  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Sept., 


CHAPTER  XV. 

But  Richard  did  not  recover  with  the  promptness  that  the  mine 
doctor  had  prophesied.  He  was  so  ill  that  Jefferson  daringly 
took  his  place  in  the  household.  He  hired  labor  without  stint;  he 
telegraphed  to  the  nearest  hospital  for  two  trained  nurses,  and  he 
brought  a  famous  specialist  a  thousand  miles  to  consult  with  the 
little  mine  doctor,  who  was  plainly  puzzled  by  Richard's  condition. 

"  It  is  not  only  the  result  of  the  disaster  of  which  you  speak," 
said  the  great  man.  "  It  is  fever ;  he  must  have  been  sick  a  long 
time;  the  fact  that  he  refused  to  acknowledge  his  illness  has  but 
augmented  the  seriousness  of  the  case." 

For  weeks  Richard  lingered,  unconscious.  One  night  when 
his  fever  was  at  its  height,  they  thought  that  he  was  dying,  for 
he  started  from  his  bed  in  his  delirium  crying  out  those  wonderful 
words  of  Isaias: 

"  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me,  because  the  Lord  hath 
anointed  me;  He  hath  sent  me  to  preach  to  the  meek,  to  heal  the 
contrite  of  heart,  and  to  preach  a  release  to  the  captives,  and  deliver- 
ance to  them  that  are  shut  up." 

"What  is  he  saying?"  said  the  Colonel.  "Is  he  trying  to 
pray?" 

"  He  doesn't  know,"  said  the  nurse  with  calm  practicability. 
"  I  must  reduce  his  temperature  somehow.  We  must  have  more  ice. 
I'll  give  him  another  alcohol  bath.  His  fever  should  break  to- 
night or — " 

"  Or,"  the  Colonel  repeated  the  small  word  with  paternal  solici- 
tude. "  I  see,  madam,  you  mean  or  he  will  die  ?  " 

"  He  is  very  ill,"  admitted  the  nurse  reluctantly. 

It  was  the  next  morning  that  Richard  woke  to  a  dim  realiza- 
tion of  his  surroundings.  Jefferson  was  seated  by  the  window,  and 
caught  the  first  normal  glimpse  of  his  eyes. 

"Been  sick  a  long  time?"  he  questioned,  holding  up  a  white 
hand  that  seemed  almost  transparent  in  the  sunlight. 

"  Well,  I  guess,"  said  Jeff  joyfully,  coming  close  to  the  bed- 
side. "I'm  glad  you've  waked  up  at  last." 

"  Have  you  been  here  all  the  time?  " 

"  Didn't  expect  me  to  leave  you  in  this  fix  ?  I've  been  running 
the  farm." 

Richard  smiled  faintly.     "  Universal  genius,  eh  ?  " 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  753 

Jefferson  grinned.  "  You've  guessed  it.  Now  don't  talk  or 
that  nurse  will  blame  me  for  a  relapse." 

"  Then  you  do  the  talking,"  said  Richard.  "  Tell  me  what  has 
happened  all  this  time.  Is  that  mule  boy  all  right?  " 

Jefferson  took  a  chair  by  the  bed,  and  began  to  smooth  Richard's 
bare  arm  soothingly.  "  Couldn't  kill  him  with  an  axe,"  he  an- 
swered. "  Been  here  every  day  since  you've  been  sick,  brought  all 
kinds  of  messy  dishes  that  his  mother  cooked  for  you.  Nurse 
wouldn't  let  you  eat  them,  so  she  gave  some  of  them  to  me — don't 
know  why  she  has  designs  on  my  digestion.  Then,  of  course,  the 
neighbors  have  hovered  round.  Sometimes  I've  felt  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  a  county  delegation — just  like  a  presidential  candidate 
shaking  hands  with  the  gentry.  You've  had  a  carload  of  jellies 
sent  you  and  a  hothouse  of  flowers.  You're  a  hero  you  know, 
though  your  heroism  isn't  your  fault,  it's  inherited  from  your 
father,  and  your  great-grandfather,  and  the  Lord  knows  who. 
This  is  a  great  part  of  the  country — nothing  seems  worth  while 
unless  it  is  inherited." 

"And  the  Colonel?" 

"  The  Colonel's  blooming  under  all  this  publicity.  You've 
been  a  great  political  asset  to  the  Colonel.  You  know  old  Senator 
Wurth  is  dead,  and  durned  if  they  haven't  asked  the  Colonel  to  go 
to  Washington  and  fill  out  his  unexpired  term." 

Dick  turned  weakly  on  his  pillows.  "  And  is  he  going?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Going !  of  course  he's  going.  The  Colonel  may  not  agree 
to  what  his  party  demands,  but  he's  got  very  definite  views  that 
the  country  is  going  to  the  bowwows,  and  he  wants  to  tell  a  few  of 
the  Senators  what  he  thinks  of  them.  I  think  I'll  spend  the  winter 
in  Washington,  and  engage  a  permanent  seat  in  the  Senate 
gallery." 

Richard  closed  his  eyes  wearily,  and  was  silent  for  a  long 
time,  then  he  said :  "  If  the  Colonel  is  provided  for  we  can  drop 
that  Texas  claim." 

"  Drop  it !  "  Jefferson  ran  his  fingers  through  his  yellow  hair 
until  it  bristled.  "  I'd  like  to  tell  you  a  thing  or  two,  if  I  wasn't 
afraid  you  would  have  a  relapse." 

"  I'm  not  relapsing." 

t(  Well  just  settle  down  there  and  keep  calm.  Think  you'll 
get  a  fever  if  I  tell  you  that  the  Texas  claim  is  settled,  that  we 
compromised  for  half  a  million  out  of  court?" 

VOL.   XCVII. — 48 


754  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Sept., 

Richard's  fingers  tightened  on  those  of  his  friend,  "  Oh,  Jeff, 
you  didn't — not  when  I  was — like  this?  I  don't  think  it  was  fair 
to— her." 

"  Her,"  repeated  Jeff  defensively,  and  a  strange  expression 
came  into  his  eyes.  "  Why  she  did  most  of  it  herself.  Did  I  tell 
you  that  I  had  been  here  all  the  time  ?  Well  that  was  a  lie.  I  went 
to  Texas;  was  gone  ten  days.  I  found  out  the  amazing  fact, 
that  even  the  Colonel  begrudgingly  acknowledges,  that  this  Mr. 
Fielding  is  an  honest  man.  It  required  neither  my  brilliant  intellect, 
nor  my  forensic  ability,  to  convince  him  that  we  had  a  clear  case. 
You  see  the  old  letters  that  you  had  proved  your  grandfather  wasn't 
in  Texas  at  the  time,  and  Jessica  had  sent  her  father  a  peck  of 
special  deliveries  with  Miss  Prunesy's  story  in  them.  We  spent  the 
best  part  of  a  day  digging  out  the  old  deed,  and  the  signature  was 
a  sort  of  caricature  on  your  grandfather's.  You  see  the  trouble 
was  old  man  Mike  couldn't  cart  the  blackboard  copy  around  with 
him.  Then  there  was  another  point :  Mike  was  your  grandfather's 
overseer,  and  acting  as  his  agent,  and  according  to  the  laws  of 
Texas — well  I  won't  go  into  the  legal  aspect — I  learned  a  lot. 
Claims  are  different  down  there ;  the  fact  that  Texas  was  a  republic, 
and  came  into  the  union  owning  its  own  land,  seems  to  make  a 
difference,  and  I  tell  you  the  rights  of  women  and  minors  are 
respected." 

"Go  on,"  said  Richard  anxiously. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Fielding,  who  proved  to  be  a  very  pleasant  fair- 
minded  person,  said  he  thought  the  matter  could  be  arranged  out 
of  court.  You  see  nobody  had  gobbled  up  your  land,  it  was  still 
there,  and  he  proposed  to  give  it  back  to  you.  He  said  that  he 
had  never  questioned  his  father's  legacy ;  that  the  ground  had  given 
him  his  start;  he  was  down  and  out  when  he  went  there  eighteen 
years  ago  and  began  raising  cattle.  Every  time  he  made  an  extra 
dollar,  if  he  didn't  buy  cows,  he  bought  land.  Then  he  struck  oil, 
not  on  your  land  but  on  his.  Now — well  his  bank  account  would 
even  make  Wall  street  sit  up  and  take  notice.  There  was  a  syndi- 
cate wanted  to  buy  your  ground;  offered  half  a  million.  I  nosed 
round  there  long  enough  to  find  that  that  was  a  good  price  for  it. 
Colonel  wired  me  to  close  the  deal." 

"  Then — then  what  did  she  mean  by  saying  that  she  would  have 
to  work  for  a  living?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know;  maybe  she  thought  so,  maybe  she  didn't. 
That  girl  would  keep  anybody  guessing.  She's  been  here  every  day 


1913.]  THE  RED  ASCENT  755 

since  the  accident.  I  heard  her  ask  Betty  what  she  thought  you 
would  do  next  ?  " 

Jefferson  paused,  the  question  was  very  vital  to  him,  and  he 
had  chosen  this  way  of  asking  it. 

"  Why,  I'm  going  back,"  said  Richard  simply.  "  I'm  going 
back,  they  won't  need  me  now.  I've  been  lying  here  half-awake 
wondering  if  the  way  wouldn't  open  somehow.  I  didn't  speak 
because  it  hardly  seemed  worth  while.  I  believe  I've  been  vaguely 
conscious  for  a  long  time.  I  seemed  to  feel  people  moving  around 
me,  waiting  on  me.  I  seemed  to  hear  voices  without  being  able 
to  understand  what  they  were  saying.  My  soul,  the  spirit  part 
of  me,  seemed  to  be  caught  in  a  trap — trapped  in  my  body.  I 
believe  suffering  makes  people  feel  like  that,  unless  they  are  wide 
enough  awake  to  take  the  transcendental  view.  As  soon  as  I'm 
free  I'm  going  back." 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  ?  " 

"  Want — what  do  you  mean,  Jeff  ?  " 

"  I  mean  do  you  want  to  go,  or  do  you  feel  that  you  must?  " 

"  Both,"  he  smiled  feebly,  "  the  want  seems  to  make  the  must. 
In  my  dreams  I've  felt  the  old  force  pushing  me  on.  Down  in  that 
mine  helping  that  poor  little  devil  to  the  daylight,  I  felt  that  I 
would  have  to  go  back  to  the  seminary.  That  mine  seemed  to 
symbolize  what  I  wanted  to  do — lifting  people  out  of  the  blackness 
to  a  glimpse  of  the  supernatural.  Since  I've  been  home  I've  been 
too  tired  to  think.  I  even  fancied  I  might  have  been  mistaken  in 
my  purpose  in  life.  I  dreamed  of  settling  down  here  and  living 
forever,  writing  a  thing  now  and  then  to  settle  world-wide  ques- 
tions. I  believe  I  even  dreamed  vaguely  of  marriage." 

Jefferson  sat  up  waiting  eagerly  for  his  next  words ;  his  hands 
rumpled  his  hair  nervously. 

"  It  was  only  a  passing  mood,"  continued  Richard.  "  I  be- 
lieve my  grandfather's  extravagant  love  letters  set  me  wondering 
why  I  didn't  have  some  sentimental  emotions  of  my  own.  But 
a  wife — well,  I  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  one.  If  I  married 
a  girl  I  should  always  feel  that  she  deserved  some  consideration, 
and  I  wouldn't  want  to  consider  her.  I  have  always  wanted  to  be 
free." 

"  Poor  girls !  "  said  a  mocking  voice  in  the  doorway,  and  look- 
ing up  they  saw  Jessica  standing  in  the  dim  light  of  the  sick  room, 
her  arms  full  of  flowers.  "  I'm  so  glad  you've  waked  up  at  last." 

Betty  came  bustling  in  behind  her.     "  Oh,  Dick — Dicky — did 


756  THE  RED  ASCENT  [Sept., 

you  know  that  we  were  really  going  to  Washington?  I'm  so 
excited  I  can  neither  eat  nor  sleep;"  she  knelt  down  beside  the  bed 
and  clasped  Richard's  hand.  "  I  feel  like  a  fairy  princess." 

Jessica  came  nearer  and  scattered  the  flowers  over  the  bed. 
"  They  count  you  a  hero,  even  if  you  are  a  woman  hater,"  she  said. 

"  I  feel  more  like  a  corpse,"  said  Richard  humorously,  viewing 
the  flowers. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Jessica,  "  you  look  like  Sleeping  Beauty  in 
my  fairy  book." 

"  I'm  sure  I  do." 

"  And  I'm  sure  you  must  all  get  out  of  here,"  said  Jefferson. 
"  I  hear  the  nurse  coming.  If  she  sees  you  she  will  blame  me  for 
letting  you  in." 

Richard  made  no  protest  as  Jefferson  hurried  his  visitors  to 
the  door.  His  attempt  to  think,  to  adjust  his  mind  to  his  new 
situation,  had  exhausted  him,  and  when  the  nurse  came  in  a  few 
minutes  later  she  found  that  he  had  fallen  into  a  restless  sleep. 

Jefferson  walked  through  the  shadowy  woods  with  Jessica. 
He  had  formed  the  habit  of  seeing  her  home  every  afternoon  that 
she  came  to  inquire  for  the  invalid.  Usually  they  rode  on  horse- 
back, but  to-day  they  walked,  leading  their  horses  through  the 
fern-bordered  bridle  path.  It  was  Jefferson's  suggestion  that  they 
dismount.  It  was  easier  "  to  talk  "  he  said.  Jessica  had  demurred 
at  first.  With  a  woman's  quick  intuition  she  had  guessed  his  reason. 

"  We  have  known  each  other  for  six  weeks,"  he  began  after 
a  long  silence. 

"  Seven,"  she  corrected  him. 

"  It  is  a  long  time." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  more  flattering  to  consider  it  a  short  time  ?  " 
she  teased. 

"  Oh,  it's  no  use  to  play  with  words,"  he  said  hopelessly,  and 
his  eyes  looked  care-worn  and  afraid.  "  During  those  weeks  we've 
talked  about  birds,  and  bushes,  and  the  Lord  only  knows  how  many 
other  things  in  which  I  did  not  feel  a  particle  of  interest.  I  believe 
you  know  what  I  want  to  say,  Jessica,  and  you  know,  too,  that 
I  don't  know  how  to  say  it." 

She  stopped  by  the  side  of  a  big  oak,  and  she  let  her  horse 
walk  deliberately  between  them.  "  Is  this  intended  as  an  ardent 
proposal  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is — it  is,"  he  cried  pushing  the  horse  aside  and  clasping 


1913-]  THE  RED  ASCENT  757 

both  her  hands.  "  You  know  that  I  love — love — you,  and  I  did 
not  feel  free  to  tell  you  so  until  to-day." 

Her  soft  eyes  had  lost  their  look  of  mischief  now. 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"  Because — I  thought  Dick  Matterson  wanted  you,  and  I 
thought  perhaps — " 

"  Go  on,"  she  urged. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  cared  for  him." 

"  And  suppose — suppose,  Jeff,  I  confessed  that  under  some  cir- 
cumstances I  might  have  cared  ?  " 

His  face  looked  haggard  in  the  sunlight.  "  What  circum- 
stances?" 

She  hesitated.  "  Well,  perhaps  the  most  important  circum- 
stance :  if  he  had  cared  for  me." 

"Then  you  are  in  love  with  him?" 

"  No — no,"  she  contradicted,  "  I  only  had  symptoms — you 
see  he  was  indifferent." 

"  How  could  he  have  been  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  was  amazing,"  she  smiled,  "  he  wanted  some- 
thing else  in  life.  I  knew  it  all  the  time,  that  was  one  reason 
I  cared." 

"  I  don't  exactly  see." 

"Of  course  you  don't,  it  was  too  complicated  an  emotion  even 
for  me,  for  if  he  had  given  up  all  his  high  aspirations,  his  religious 
ambitions,  and  loved  me,  no  doubt  I  should  have  hated  him." 

"  Then  you  really  did  not  want  him  after  all  ?  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  I  didn't." 

He  took  her  unresisting  in  his  arms,  and  smiled  happily  down 
upon  her.  "  I  believe  I've  had  a  few  symptoms  myself,"  he  said. 

[THE  END.] 


THE  CENTENARY  OF  FREDERIC  OZANAM. 

(April  23,  i8i3-September  8,  1853.) 
BY  WILLIAM  P.  H.  KITCHIN,  PH.D. 

YEAR  or  two  ago  Spain  feted  the  birth-centenary 
of  one  of  her  most  brilliant  sons,  Father  James 
Balmes,  who  in  his  brief  life  of  thirty-eight  years 
wrote  several  volumes  of  philosophy,  history,  and 
apologetics,  which,  seven  decades  after  their  pub- 
lication, still  retain  their  interest  and  their  worth.  This  year 
Catholic  France  celebrates  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  another 
knight  of  the  pen,  Frederic  Ozanam,  un  preux  chevalier  sans  peur 
et  sans  reproche,  whose  whole  ambition  was  to  spend  and  be  spent 
in  the  service  of  the  Church. 

Forty  years  was  the  short  span  of  life  accorded  by  Providence 
to  this  champion,  only  forty  years,  yet  how  full  they  were  in  good 
works!  Not  satisfied  with  his  duties  as  professor,  nor  his  renown 
as  an  author,  he  inaugurated  the  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  Societies, 
devoting  his  time  and  attention  to  their  expansion,  and  it  is,  thanks 
to  his  energy  and  zeal,  that  they  have  ever  since  held  a  large 
place  in  Catholic  life.  He  was  also  instrumental  in  bringing  Father 
Lacordaire  to  the  pulpit  of  Notre  Dame.  And  he  it  was  who 
accompanied  Monsignor  Afire,  Archbishop  of  Paris,  on  his  glorious 
and  tragic  embassy  to  the  infuriated  populace,  where  the  prelate 
won  the  martyr's  crown. 

Frederic  Ozanam  descended  from  an  ancient  French  family 
of  the  district  of  Bresse.  This  family,  originally  Jewish,  had  been 
converted  to  Christianity  by  St.  Didier.  A  certain  Jacques  Ozanam 
was  a  distinguished  mathematician  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  merited  a  eulogy  from  the  pen  of  Fontenelle.  He  had,  also, 
more  wit  than  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of  geometers.  Alluding  to 
the  theological  quarrels  of  his  time,  which  were  convulsing  France 
with  factions,  he  used  to  say :  "  It  is  the  business  of  the  Doctors 
of  the  Sorbonne  to  dispute,  of  the  Pope  to  decide,  of  mathemati- 
cians to  go  straight  to  heaven  by  the  perpendicular." 

Frederic  Ozanam  was  born  at  Milan,  April  23,  1813.  His 
father,  who  had  been  first  an  officer  in  the  armies  of  Napoleon, 


1913.]        THE  CENTENARY  £>F  FR&DZRIC  OZANAM       759 

and  then  engaged  in  commerce,  had  finally  established  himself 
there  as  a  doctor.  Ozanam  pere  prepared  his  more  famous  son 
for  college.  He  was,  as  his  son  testifies,  a  man  of  rare  information, 
and  of  still  rarer  application.  "  My  father  loved  art  and  science 
and  study.  After  leaving  the  army  he  had  read  the  Bible  of 
Dom  Calmet  from  cover  to  cover,  and  knew  Latin  as  we  pro- 
fessors no  longer  know  it  now." 

Thus  prepared,  Frederic  completed  his  preliminary  studies  with 
the  greatest  success.  His  father  wished  him  to  study  law,  so  after 
remaining  a  year  with  a  barrister  at  Lyons,  the  young  man  was 
sent  to  Paris  at  the  age  of  twenty  to  complete  his  studies  and 
take  his  degrees.  His  inclinations  were,  however,  for  poetry  and 
literature,  and  while  following  the  law  course  he  found  time  to 
attend  many  a  lesson  in  history  and  belles-lettres  as  well.  He 
also  utilized  his  opportunities  of  learning  foreign  languages,  for 
which  he  had  a  great  aptitude.  A  letter  to  his  young  brother 
tells  of  the  severity  of  the  regime  he  followed,  and  the  drudgery 
he  imposed  on  himself.  "  In  1837,"  he  writes,  "  for  five  months 
I  worked  regularly  ten  hours  a  day  without  counting  class  hours, 
and  fourteen  to  fifteen  hours  the  last  month."  Thanks  to  his  talent 
and  unwearied  application,  he  obtained  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Laws  at  the  age  of  twenty- three,  and  two  years  later  that  of 
Doctor  of  Literature.  His  theses  on  this  occasion — one  in  Latin, 
On  the  Descent  of  the  Heroes  into  Hell  in  the  Poets  of  Antiquity, 
the  other  in  French  on  Dante — were  so  brilliantly  presented  and 
defended  that  Cousin,  whose  reputation  was  then  European,  ex- 
claimed :  "  Mr.  Ozanam,  your  eloquence  could  not  be  surpassed !  " 

After  teaching  a  year  or  two  in  Lyons,  and  refusing  several 
tempting  offers  elsewhere,  in  1840,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  he 
became  supplementary  professor  of  foreign  literature  at  the  Sor- 
bonne,  and  in  1844  full  professor,  a  position  he  held  till  his  death. 
During  these  thirteen  years  of  teaching  he  amassed  an  immense 
quantity  of  lore  and  erudition,  only  some  of  which  has  ever  seen 
the  light  in  his  published  works.  In  the  edition  before  me,  as  I 
write,  there  are  nine  volumes  in  octavo,  and  two  large  volumes  of 
Melanges  in  quarto.  Yet  his  editor  and  friend,  Ampere,  warns 
the  reader  that  vast  collections  of  his  MSS.  remain  unpublished. 
He  adds,  with  a  poignant  touch  of  pathos: 

During  the  last  sad  visit  that  Ozanam  made  to  Italy  in  the 
years  1852  and  1853,  he  had  the  courage,  although  dying,  to* 

*Lettres,  vol.  i.,  preface  xiv. 


THE  CENTENARY  OF  FR£D£RIC  OZANAM        [Sept., 

write  on  his  travels  as  he  alone  knew  how;  to  make  laborious 
researches  in  the  libraries  of  Florence,  Pisa,  and  Siena ;  to  copy 
several  lengthy  fragments  of  the  sermons  of  Maurice  de  Sully, 

Bishop  of  Paris  in  old  French; to  trace  a  plan  for  the 

history  of  the  commune  of  Milan,  which  was  to  form  portion 

of  a  work  on  the  Italian  communes His  intention  was  to 

follow  the  trend  of  civilization  and  literature  in  Italy  from  the 
fifth  century  to  the  thirteenth.  In  the  notes  of  his  lectures 
which  have  relation  to  this  vast  subject,  he  begins  with  the 
arrival  of  the  Goths  in  Italy ;  the  works  of  Boetius,  the  writings 
of  St.  Gregory  are  analyzed,  and  the  life  of  this  great  Pope 

told The  life  of  St.  Benedict,  the  Carlovingian  period  in 

Italy,  the  celebrated  book  of  Peter  Lombard,  the  philosophy  of 
St.  Anselm,  are  thoroughly  gone  into.  The  doctrine  of  St. 
Thomas,  the  mysticism  of  St.  Bonaventure,  are  explained  by 
that  fine  mind,  which  showed  as  much  force  in  dealing  with 
philosophy  as  it  displayed  taste  in  treating  of  literature.* 

Ozanam  was  still  a  collegian  when,  with  the  splendid  audacity 
of  youth,  he  dreamed  of  writing  a  "  Demonstration  of  the  Truth 
of  the  Catholic  Religion  from  the  Antiquity  of  Religious  and 
Moral  Beliefs."  To  realize  this  plan  one  should,  he  affirmed, 
know  ancient  history  in  all  its  branches,  and  be  master  of  a  dozen 
languages.  As  an  initial  step  towards  carrying  out  this  rather 
extended  programme,  he  set  himself  bravely  to  work  to  add  Hebrew 
and  Sanscrit  to  the  ancient  and  modern  languages  he  already  knew. 

A  tour  through  Italy  gave  another  direction  to  his  thoughts, 
and  inspired  him  with  a  passion  for  the  Middle  Ages.  This  led 
him  to  select  for  his  doctor's  thesis:  Dante  and  Catholic  Phil- 
osophy in  the  Thirteenth  Century.  In  this  work,  anticipating  to 
some  extent  the  neo-scholastic  movement  of  our  own  times,  he 
shows  that  Dante  drew  his  philosophy  from  St.  Thomas  and  St. 
Bonaventure.  To  interpret  the  great  Florentine  with  authority, 
Ozanam  tries  to  plunge  himself  in  the  milieu  where  that  animo 
sdegnoso,  so  sinned  against  and  sinning,  lived  and  thought  and 
suffered.  In  the  first  commentators  on  Dante,  and  more  particu- 
larly in  the  MS.  texts  of  the  Divina  Comniedia,  he  finds  the  key 
to  that  strange  poem,  which  has  proved  so  puzzling  to  critics. 

Protestants  saw  in  Dante  merely  a  forerunner  of  Luther; 
patriotic  Italians  looked  upon  him  as  the  prophet  of  their  national 
independence;  Fauriel,  the  immediate  predecessor  of  Ozanam  at 

*Civ.   au  5  Siecle,  vol.   i.,   preface,   pp.    23,   24. 


1913-]        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FR£D£RIC  OZANAM      761 

the  Sorbonne,  would  lower  the  glorious  epic  to  the  level  of  a  vul- 
gar love-song.  But  Ozanam,  noticing  that  symbolism  and  allegory 
were  the  predominant  notes  of  the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
remarking  also  that  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  applied  the  same 
method  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Bible,  finds  therein  the  explana- 
tion of  Dante's  sublime  though  obscure  cantos.  After  pointing 
out  that,  according  to  the  Fathers  of  the  Church,  the  personages 
of  the  Bible  have,  in  addition  to  their  historical  position,  a  prophetic 
role  and  significance,  he  continues: 

The  genius  of  Dante  fed  on  the  Bible  must  have  proceeded 
in  the  same  way.  The  personages  whom  he  introduces  are  real 
in  his  thought  and  prophetic  in  his  intention;  they  are  ideas 

clothed  in  flesh,  figures  endowed  with  life It  is  essential 

that  this  image  be  borrowed  from  realities,  that  it  coincide 
with  the  idea  it  represents,  that  one  find  in  it,  according  to 
the  original  energy  of  the  word,  a  symbolon,  that  is  an  ap- 
proximation.* 

The  Divine  Comedy  seen  thus  is  an  historical  poem  in  the  literal 
sense,  and  a  philosophical  poem  in  the  figurative  sense.  It  is  also 
a  political  poem,  wherein  Dante  gives  his  personal  views  on  the 
burning  questions  of  the  time. 

Dante  was  Ozanam's  first  love,  to  whom  he  ever  after  re- 
mained true.  He  says  somewhere  that  a  whole  lifetime  would  not 
be  too  much  to  give  to  explaining  Dante,  in  order  to  make  this 
great  man  understood  and  loved,  and  to  teach  the  due  appreciation 
of  the  things  greater  than  himself  which  he  loved  and  sung.  As 
time  went  on,  he  devoted  other  works  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
poet.  He  published  a  work  on  the  Sources  of  the  Divine  Comedy, 
one  on  the  Poetes  Franciscains  en  Italie,  also  Documents  Inedits 
pour  servir  a  I'Histoire  Litteraire  de  I'ltalie,  and,  last  but  not  least, 
after  seven  years  study  and  meditation,  he  gave  to  the  world 
a  commentary  and  translation  of  thirty-three  cantos  of  the  Purga- 
torio. 

Great  poets  and  thinkers  often  throw  some  reflection  of  their 
fame  on  the  humble  commentator  or  scholiast,  whose  business  it  is 
to  explain  and  illustrate  the  Master's  thought  for  the  benefit  of  the 
uninitiated.  Servius  is  always  associated  with  Virgil;  Atticus 
and  Tiro  with  Cicero;  Malone  with  Shakespeare;  Spencer  with 
Pope;  Boswell  with  Johnson;  Cajetan  with  St.  Thomas.  So  it 

*Second  edition  of  Dante,  p.  53. 


762        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FR£D£RIC  OZANAM        [Sept., 

has  been  with  Ozanam.  According  to  Father  X.  Kraus,  the  prince 
of  modern  Danteists,  this  is  the  part  of  Ozanam's  work  that  is  of 
greatest  value  to  the  scientific  historian;  it  is  also  the  part  with 
which  time  has  dealt  most  leniently,  for  even  to-day  no  student 
of  Dante  can  afford  to  pass  by  the  pages  of  interpretation  written, 
and  the  documents  gathered  together  by  the  industry  of  this  Sor- 
bonne  professor  of  the  early  nineteenth  century.* 

From  the  thirteenth  century,  the  culminating  point  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  Ozanam  turned  back  to  their  dim  and  uncertain 
beginnings  in  the  fifth.  He  discovers  a  triple  origin  to  them, 
namely,  barbarian,  Roman,  and  Christian,  all  of  which  he  treats 
in  his  Etudes  Germaniques,  and  his  Civilisation  au  Cinquieme  Siecle. 
His  object  is  to  show  how  the  Church  produced  modern  civilization 
from  the  ruins  of  Roman  and  barbarian  times.  "  In  the  history 
of  literature,"  he  says,  "  I  study  principally  that  civilization  of 
which  it  is  the  bloom  and  flower,  and  in  civilization  I  notice  par- 
ticularly the  work  of  Christianity."  Should  anyone  object  to  this 
mingling  of  history  and  apologetics  on  the  ground  that  the  author 
strives  to  establish  a  thesis  rather  than  to  relate  history,  to  sustain 
a  foregone  conclusion  rather  than  to  draw  conclusions  from  ascer- 
tained facts,  without  hesitation  or  shame  he  admits  the  objection : 

Those  who  repudiate  religious  belief  in  a  scientific  treatise 
will  accuse  me  of  lack  of  independence ;  but  to  my  mind  nothing 
is  more  honorable  than  such  a  reproach.  I  know  no  self- 
respecting  man  who  would  meddle  with  the  difficult  trade  of 
writing,  unless  he  has  some  conviction  that  sways  him,  and 
by  .which  consequently  he  is  bound.  I  do  not  want  that 
wretched  independence,  whose  watchword  is  to  believe  nothing 
and  to  love  nothing.  Certainly  it  is  not  advisable  to  be  too 
lavish  with  one's  professions  of  faith;  but  who  pray  would 
have  the  courage  to  treat  the  most  mysterious  points  of  history 

without  ever  taking  a  side  on  the  everlasting  questions 

it  raises?  From  the  writer  two  things  only  may  be  expected: 
firstly,  that  his  conviction  be  free  and  intelligent,  and  the 
Christian  faith  wants  no  other;  this  is  the  reasonable  adhesion 
St.  Paul  demands.  Secondly,  that  the  desire  to  prove  a  belief 
never  lead  him  to  distort  facts,  or  to  content  himself  with 
doubtful  testimonies  and  unauthorized  consequences.f 

*Kraus,  Dante  sein  Leben  und  sein  Werk,  pp.  17,  383,  426,  435.  See  also 
Jordan,  in  Revue  Pratique  d'Apologetique,  October  15,  1912;  and  Moeller,  in 
Revue  d'Histoire  Ecclesiastique,  April  15,  1913. 

^(Euvres  Completes,  vol.  Hi.,  p.  16. 


1913-]        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FR£D£RIC  OZANAM      763 

The  man  who  wrote  thus,  and  proposed  such  high  ideals  to 
himself,  was  not  likely  to  go  astray  through  lack  of  inquiry,  or 
indulge  unduly  in  private  pet  theories  to  the  detriment  of  sound 
criticism.  If  he  erred  sometimes,  if  later  searchers  found  some  of 
his  conclusions  unwarranted,  and  some  of  his  authorities  of  doubt- 
ful authenticity,  it  was  not  through  any  esprit  de  systeme  on  his 
part,  but  because  his  were  the  limitations  of  his  age ;  as  an  historian 
he  was  not  ahead  of  his  time,  nor  could  he  be  expected  to  profit 
by  documents  and  studies  unknown  in  his  day.  In  this  connection 
a  very  beautiful  and  eloquent  passage  may  be  quoted  on  the  aims 
and  limitations  of  Catholic  science. 

It  (Catholic  science)  is  humble,  and  does  not  think  a  whole 
life  too  much  to  give  for  any  truth  however  small.  It  is 
patient,  too,  because  it  has  hope  and  confidence.  We  pursue, 
microscope  in  hand,  the  smallest  details  of  vegetable  life;  we 
bend  over  the  retorts  and  test-tubes  of  our  laboratories;  we 
reconstruct  with  difficulty  effaced  inscriptions  and  languages 
in  ruins.  It  is  not  given  to  us  to  see  the  end  of  these  dry 
investigations;  but  we  know  that  others  will  draw  from  them 
conclusions  glorious  for  God's  providence.  We  are  only  at 
the  very  beginning,  and  the  road  is  long,  but  we  know  that 
God  is  at  the  end.  When  our  forefathers  laid  the  first  stones 
of  their  cathedrals  at  Paris,  at  Chartres,  at  Rheims,  they  knew 
full  well  that  they  would  never  enjoy  the  fruit  of  their  toil. 
But  no  matter  how  long  the  process  of  building  might  last, 
they  knew  their  faith  would  last  longer  still.  They  trusted 
and  believed  in  their  Catholic  posterity.  They  dug  down  into 
the  earth  and  rock  to  place  therein  the  deep  foundations  in 
the  hope  that  future  generations  would  build  up  those  walls 
and  towers,  until  after  five  hundred  years  the  cross  rose 
proudly  above  the  steeple.* 

Ozanam  himself,  notwithstanding  his  enormous  reading  and 
almost  encyclopedic  knowledge,  would  be  the  last  to  assert  that 
his  lectures  or  his  books  gave  the  final  word  on  any  point  "  I 
never  pretended  to  exhaust  any  of  those  subjects,  one  alone  of 
which  would  afford  ample  employment  for  many  lives."f  Natur- 
ally historical  science,  as  well  as  every  other,  has  made  immense 
strides  during  the  last  sixty  years,  and  Ozanam's  histories  in  the 
opinion  of  specialists  have  been  excelled,  and  to  a  large  extent 
superseded,  by  more  modern  publications — for  instance,  the  monu- 

*(Euvres  Computes,  vol.  iii.,  p.   123.  ^Lettres,  vol.  ii.,  p.   185. 


764        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FREDERIC  OZANAM        [Sept., 

mental  Histoire  Litteraire  de  France  in  thirty  quarto  volumes,  or 
its  German  synopsis  by  Elbert,  Geschichte  der  Literatur  des  Mittel- 
alters  im  Abendland.  But  for  the  educated  public  who  need  merely 
a  careful  and  fairly  accurate  presentation  of  any  period,  and  do 
not  crave  the  excruciating  exactness  of  the  specialist,  his  works 
have  retained  their  interest  and  popularity,  as  is  evidenced  by  all 
having  reached  six  and  seven  editions,.  The  elevation  of  his 
thoughts,  the  felicity  of  his  comparisons,  the  harmonious  swing 
and  lilt  of  his  oratorical  periods,  added  to  the  very  real  informa- 
tion they  convey,  make  his  books  most  agreeable  and  stimulating 
reading.  And  we  venture  to  prophesy  that  many  decades  must 
yet  pass  by  before  his  works  will  have  lost  their  fascination  and 
hold  over  his  countrymen. 

Ozanam,  the  writer,  acquired  for  himself  deserved  renown, 
but  still  more  precious  because  rarer  and  more  difficult  is  the 
aureola  of  Ozanam  the  philanthropist.  Talented  men  are  usually 
to  be  found  in  sufficient  abundance  for  all  practical  needs,  but 
unselfish  and  self-sacrificing  men  are  pearls  of  great  price  met 
with  only  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  our  eloquent  professor  was  one 
of  these.  While  pursuing  his  studies  at  Paris,  the  irreligious  youth 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact  often  pointed  the  finger  of  scorn 
at  his  religion,  saying,  that  although  Catholicism  had  done  great 
things  in  the  past,  she  was  now  a  dead  tree  without  sap  or 
foliage.  Stung  by  this  taunt  at  the  age  of  twenty,  Ozanam,  with 
seven  other  students,  founded  a  Conference  of  Charity,  which 
afterwards  they  re-named  the  Society  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 
Let  him  tell  us  himself  of  the  humble  beginnings  of  the  work  as 
he  told  it  to  his  confreres  of  Florence  in  the  year  1853. 

I  must  tell  you  that  it  is  not  due  to  my  personal  merit  that 
I  have  become  Vice-President  of  the  general  Council  of  Paris, 
but  simply  owing  to  my  seniority.  You  see  before  you  one  of 
the  eight  students,  who  twenty  years  ago,  in  May,  1833,  grouped 
themselves  together  under  the  protection  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 
We  were  then  deluged  by  philosophical  and  heterodox  theories 
which  made  great  noise  in  the  world,  and  we  felt  the  need  to 
strengthen  our  faith  in  the  midst  of  the  attacks  made  against 
it  by  a  false  science.  Some  of  our  student  companions  were 
materialists,  others  disciples  of  Saint-Simon,  others  of  Fourier, 
others  again  deists.  When  we  Catholics  spoke  to  these  stray 
sheep  of  the.  marvels  of  Christianity,  they  all  replied  to  us: 
"  You  are  right  if  you  speak  of  the  past :  Christianity  formerly 


1913-]        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FREDERIC  OZANAM       765 

worked  wonders,  but  to-day  Christianity  is  dead.  You  who 
boast  of  being  Catholics,  what  do  you  do?  Where  are  the 
works  that  at  once  prove  your  faith,  and  will  make  us  respect 
and  receive  it?"  They  were  right:  their  objection  was  not 
without  some  foundation.  Then  it  was  we  said  to  ourselves: 
come !  let  us  get  to  work !  let  our  acts  be  brought  into  accordance 

with  our  beliefs ! Let  us  help  our  neighbor  as  our  Lord 

did,  and  let  us  place  our  faith  under  the  protection  of  charity! 
Eight  of  us  then  gathered  together  with  this  determination, 
and  at  first  as  though  jealous  of  our  treasure,  we  did  not 
want  to  receive  others  into  our  ranks.  But  God  had  willed  it 
otherwise.  The  tiny  association  of  intimate  friends  that  we  had 
originally  in  view,  became  in  His  designs  the  starting-point 
of  an  immense  reunion  of  brethren,  who  were  to  spread  them- 
selves over  a  great  part  of  Europe.  You  see  then  that  we 
have  no  right  to  decorate  ourselves  with  the  title  of  founders : 
it  is  God  Himself  Who  wanted  and  Who  founded  our  Society! 
I  recollect  in  the  beginning  a  good  friend  of  mine,  who  was 
fascinated  by  the  theories  of  Saint-Simon,  said  to  me  with  a 
feeling  of  pity :  "  What  do  you  hope  to  do  ?  You  are  only 
eight  poor  students,  and  you  dream  of  alleviating  the  poverty 
and  wretchedness  which  flourish  in  a  city  like  Paris!  And 
even  if  you  do  meet  with  some  success,  you  will  not  have  done 
much  after  all!  We,  on  the  other  hand,  are  building  up  ideas 
and  a  system  which  will  reform  the  world  and  eradicate  pain 
and  misery  for  ever!  We  shall  do  in  a  moment  for  humanity, 
what  you  will  not  be  able  to  do  in  many  centuries !  "  You 
know,  gentlemen,  how  these  theories  have  turned  out  which  so 
deluded  my  poor  friend !  And  we  on  whom  he  had  such  com- 
passion instead  of  eight,  are  now,  in  Paris  alone,  two  thousand, 
and  we  visit  five  thousand  families,  that  is  about  twenty  thou- 
sand persons,  or  one-quarter  of  the  poor  whom  the  immense 
city  contains.  In  France  alone  our  branches  number  five  hun- 
dred, and  we  have  branches  also  in  England,  in  Spain,  in  Bel- 
gium, in  America,  and  even  at  Jerusalem.  Thus  it  is  that  by 
humble  beginnings  one  succeeds  in  great  undertakings  like  our 
Lord,  Who  from  the  lowliness  of  the  crib  rose  to  the  glorifica- 
tion of  Thabor.  And  thus,  too,  God  has  deigned  to  make  our 
work  His,  and  has  spread  it  throughout  the  world  and  crowned 
it  with  blessings.* 

Even  in  Ozanam's  lifetime  the  tiny  mustard  seed  had  grown 
into  a  mighty  tree,  and  to-day  in  nearly  every  Catholic  diocese  in  the 

^Melanges,  vol.   ii.,  pp.  41-45. 


766        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FR£D£RIC  OZANAM        [Sept., 

world  there  is  a  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  Society,  and  the  sums  ex- 
pended in  organized  charity  amount  to  millions.  The  Popes  Greg- 
ory XVI.,  Pius  IX.,  and  Leo  XIII.  issued  briefs  in  favor  of  the 
associations,  and  granted  numerous  indulgences  not  only  to  the 
alumni,  but  also  to  the  poor  assisted  by  them,  and  to  the  families 
of  the  members. 

As  long  as  Ozanam  lived,  his  time,  his  talents,  his  purse  were 
at  the  service  of  the  poor.  Every  year  he  made  it  a  point  to  dis- 
tribute to  them  at  least  the  tenth  part  of  his  annual  income.  When- 
ever he  visited  them,  he  always  left  behind  him,  besides  money, 
some  pious  object,  such  as  a  crucifix,  a  picture,  or  a  small  statue. 
One  New  Year's  day  he  heard  that  a  family  he  knew  had  been 
obliged  to  mortgage  some  heirlooms.  His  first  impulse  was  to  go 
to  their  assistance,  but  his  wife  dissuaded  him,  presenting  many 
plausible  reasons.  When,  however,  night  had  come,  and  he  looked 
around  his  own  comfortable  home,  and  noticed  all  the  presents  he 
had  received  from  friends,  pupils,  and  admirers,  he  could  no  longer 
restrain  his  pity  for  those  whom  want  had  forced  to  part  with 
their  cherished  possessions,  and  then  and  there  he  went  to  the 
pawnbroker's  and  redeemed  the  heirlooms  for  his  proteges. 

For  several  years  he  had  been  helping  an  Italian,  and  finally- 
got  a  good  situation  for  him.  But  the  foreigner  was  guilty  of 
some  misconduct,  and  had  to  be  dismissed.  Unabashed,  he  ap- 
pealed again  to  his  protector,  but  Ozanam  turned  a  deaf  ear,  and 
sternly  refused  him  any  assistance.  Scarcely  had  the  unfortunate 
left  the  house  when  Ozanam's  conscience  began  to  prick  him,  and 
he  said  to  himself,  "  a  man  ought  never  to  reduce  another  to 
despair,  nor  has  he  the  right  to  refuse  bread  even  to  the  vilest 
criminal;  one  day  I  shall  need  and  expect  that  God  will  not  be 
merciless  to  me,  as  I  have  been  towards  one  of  these  creatures  re- 
deemed by  His  blood."  Immediately  he  picked  up  his  hat,  ran 
after  the  Italian,  and  made  up  by  a  generous  alms  for  his  first  and 
quite  legitimate  indignation. 

Such  a  strenuous  life:  study  for  ten  and  twelve  hours  a  day; 
writing  articles  for  reviews  and  newspapers;  giving  lectures  to 
various  societies;  collating  manuscripts,  and  searching  libraries 
would  have  sufficed  to  undermine  the  strongest  constitution.  Oza- 
nam had  always  been  delicate,  and  already  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
three  his  health  began  to  fail.  The  various  tours  he  made  with 
a  view  to  recuperation  scarcely  afforded  him  any  rest,  as  every- 
where new  literary  projects,  new  problems  to  examine  and  to  solve 


1913-]        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FR£D£RIC  OZANAM       767 

presented  themselves  to  his  insatiable  mind.  Indeed,  as  already 
mentioned,  some  of  his  most  painstaking  investigations,  some  of  his 
most  delightful  books,  were  the  fruits  of  these  so-called  vacation 
rambles. 

During  the  Easter  session  of  1852  he  was  very  ill,  but  hearing 
that  his  pupils  were  calling  for  him  at  the  Sorbonne,  he  rose  from 
his  dying  bed  and  hastened  to  the  University.  To  the  remon- 
strances and  entreaties  of  his  wife  and  his  physician  he  replied: 
"  I  want  to  do  honor  to  my  profession."  When  he  reached  the 
classroom  pale  and  gasping,  the  students  received  him  with  a  tempest 
of  applause,  and  enthusiastic  acclamations  were  renewed  several 
times  during  the  lecture.  For  a  nervous,  artistic  temperament 
like  his,  the  sympathetic  welcome  of  his  pupils  was  just  the  spur 
required  to  raise  him  to  the  highest  flights  of  eloquence.  He 
launched  forth  into  a  magnificient  improvisation,  ending  with  the 
touching  words: 

Gentlemen,  they  reproach  our  century  with  being  selfish, 
and  they  say  that  the  professors  suffer  from  the  general  epi- 
demic. Yet  it  is  here  we  ruin  our  health,  here  we  wear  out 
our  vital  forces;  I  do  not  complain;  our  lives  belong  to  you, 
we  owe  them  to  you  until  our  last  breath,  and  you  shall  have 
them.  As  for  me,  gentlemen,  if  I  die,  it  will  be  in  your  service. 

It  was  the  song  of  the  swan;  never  again  did  he  hear  the 
plaudits  of  the  youth,  who  had  crowded  around  his  chair  for 
thirteen  years. 

The  following  summer  and  autumn  he  spent  in  Spain.  His 
wish  was  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  famous  shrine  of  St.  James 
at  Compostella,  but  he  had  not  strength  to  travel  beyond  Burgos. 
He  published  his  notes  and  souvenirs  of  this  trip  in  the  charming 
study  entitled,  Pelerinage  au  Pays  du  Cid,  to  be  found  in  the  first 
volume  of  his  Melanges.  The  winter  of  1853  he  spent  in  Italy, 
principally  at  Pisa.  Although  sick  and  dying,  he  left  no  stone  un- 
turned to  introduce  the  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  Societies  into  Tuscany, 
for  hitherto  the  then  archduke  and  his  executive  had  refused  to 
authorize  them.  But  even  cynical  politicians  could  not  resist  the 
magnetism  of  Ozanam's  personal  appeal,  and  within  a  few  months 
societies  were  established  at  Florence,  Pisa,  and  Siena. 

The  valiant  champion  felt  now  that  his  work  was  done,  and 
he  began  to  prepare  himself  quietly  and  calmly  for  the  end.  His 


;68        THE  CENTENARY  OF  FREDERIC  OZANAM        [Sept., 

death,  which  took  place  at  Marseilles,  September  8,  1853,  was  that 
of  a  saint,  full  of  piety,  unction,  and  the  most  perfect  resignation. 
When  the  priest  who  assisted  him  in  his  last  moments,  urged  him 
to  have  confidence  in  God,  "  Why  should  I  fear  Him?"  he  answered, 
"  I  love  Him  so  much."  In  his  will  he  expressed  the  wish  that  his 
relatives  and  family  might  forever  remain  faithful  to  their  heritage 
of  the  Catholic  religion. 

For  the  edition  of  Ozanam's  works  published  in  1883,  Pope 
Leo  XIII.  deigned  to  write  an  apostolic  brief  to  the  author's  widow. 
In  this  document  His  Holiness  says : 

We  are  certain  that  you  desire  nothing  more  than  to  pre- 
serve piously  that  faith  and  filial  piety  towards  Mother  Church, 
and  thus  to  follow  the  footsteps  of  him,  who  consecrated  him- 
self to  Her,  as  you  say,  and  who  was  for  his  fellow-citizens 
a  model  of  religion  and  good  works.  It  is  then  a  pleasure 
and  a  joy  for  Us  to  see  the  memory  of  this  illustrious  man 
honored,  in  order  that  the  number  of  those  who  wish  to  share  in 
the  same  glory  may  increase;  particularly  at  a  time  so  critical 
for  Christianity,  when  the  struggle  against  the  wicked  must  be 
sustained  by  brave  men  of  deep  knowledge  and  earnest  endeavor, 
who  will  uphold  the  cause  of  truth,  and  lead  others  to  the  love 
of  virtue. 

Could  there  be  for  any  child  of  the  Catholic  Church  a  higher 
reward  than  such  weighty  words  of  commendation  from  the  Vicar 
of  Christ  Himself,  or  for  Frederic  Ozanam  a  more  glorious  epitaph? 


THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE. 

BY   LOUISE   IMOGEN    GUINEY. 

N  this  jaded  world  new  amusements  have  their  value. 
Ours,  one  summer,  lay  very  near  the  ground.  It 
is  wonderful  how  long  a  person  can  contemplate 
a  thing,  love  it,  and  even  desire  it,  without  develop- 
ing the  instinct  to  grab  it:  and  equally  wonderful 
how  contagious  is  grabbism,  once  it  gets  recognized  as  a  practical 
thing.  Here  were  several  of  us,  all  independently  given,  it  seems, 
to  hanging  over  bridges,  and  watching  with  longing  the  movements 
of  barges  on  English  canals.  Oh,  that  utter  rest  from  all  art 
and  all  morals  betokened  by  a  long  grimy  boat,  drawn  by  a  single 
horse  on  the  tow-path,  slowly,  slowly  gliding  under  a  dark  arch, 
with  its  generally  invisible  crew !  Oh,  blessed  and  justifiable  envy, 
directed  towards  folk  who  so  passed  their  days !  The  bicycle,  the 
train,  the  motor,  the  aeroplane,  and  every  other  contrivance  for 
getting  there — what  are  they  but  vanity?  Pre-historic  transporta- 
tion, the  embodied  negation  of  hustle,  wore  a  halo  by  comparison. 

We  therefore  thought   it  meeter 
To  carry  off  the  latter. 

We  sighed  for  the  barge !  More,  we  got  it.  It  took  some  study, 
and  even  diplomacy,  plus  various  fees,  not  exorbitant,  to  find 
a  disused  specimen.  An  aged  nondescript,  called  the  Moll,  lay 
at  her  moorings  in  another  county :  we  had  her  emptied,  fumigated, 
made  water-tight,  and  painted.  This  worthy  receptacle,  when  sent 
down  to  us,  proved  to  be  a  sort  of  gigantic  coffin,  scooped  deep, 
and  about  seventy-two  feet  long  from  stem  to  stern.  She  was 
adorned  with  many  movable  planks,  each  laid  deckwise  when  not 
in  use  as  a  gangway.  Two  sets  of  uprights,  forming  a  double 
stockade  and  placed  well  apart,  served  to  make  progress  from  one 
end  to  the  other  a  truly  gymnastic  matter ;  incidentally,  they  offered 
to  hold  up  at  need  a  huge  tarpaulin,  not  without  its  uses,  we  thought, 
under  the  wet  English  sky.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  never 
stretched  over  the  hold  but  once.  We  intended  the  Moll  for  a 
beast  of  burden,  not  for  a  habitation,  but  the  vast  cavern  was  a 

VOL.  xcvii—  49 


770  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  [Sept., 

convenience  for  luggage.  There  was  a  small  cabin  aft,  full  of  cup- 
boards and  crannies,  and  built  up  with  stuffy  berths;  the  roof  of 
this  formed  a  large,  pleasant,  and  necessary  loggia.  At  the  entrance 
to  the  cabin  was  the  square  of  flooring  for  the  steerer  to  stand  in, 
cheek  by  jowl  with  what  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  most  enormous 
rudders  known  to  man.  One  small  "  steps,"  moved  hither  and 
thither,  served  as  our  only  apparent  means  (short  of  supernatural 
levitation)  of  getting  from  the  hold  to  the  saloon  deck,  or  to  the 
upper  stage  of  it  farther  along,  which  was  the  point  of  vantage 
on  the  cabin  roof.  The  cargo  for  a  seventeen-days'  cruise  included 
some  pots  and  pans,  a  firkin  for  drinking-water,  a  spirit-lamp, 
a  flashlight,  a  mandolin,  groceries,  charts,  a  few  topographical 
books,  a  portable  bathtub,  a  long  chair,  a  dog,  two  tents,  five 
camp-beds  wed  to  a  prodigious  array  of  blankets,  rugs,  and  old 
coats  and  shawls;  also  a  medical  and  surgical  case  for  accidents 
and  injuries,  such  as  duly  poured  in  upon  us  with  a  very  abandon 
of  frequency  and  cordiality. 

The  crew,  headed  by  Wags,  the  terrier,  was  six  in  number, 
under  the  true  out-of-doorer,  the  lady  whom  we  elected  captain. 
Add  to  these  a  horse ;  and  lastly  a  man-of -all- work.  We  stipulated, 
at  the  canal  company's  office,  for  a  nice  one :  could  they  recommend 
or  obtain  such?  Promptly  appeared  a  paragon,  aged  twenty-five 
or  thereabouts,  and  exhibiting  all  the  steadiness  and  serenity  of 
advanced  eld.  Poor  Watty  had  a  history  already.  His  young  wife 
had  made  a  fatal  misstep  on  the  black  slippery  barge-planks,  while 
they  had  drawn  up  near  a  lock  for  the  night,  and  her  Watty  was 
absent,  having  gone  up  to  the  village  to  get  milk  for  the  two 
babies;  after  that  the  canal  was  a  bitter  place  to  the  widowed  lad, 
and  he  had  taken  up  coal-heaving  ashore.  It  was  two  years  ago, 
and  more;  and  now  he  was  persuaded  to  walk  the  tow-path  again. 

Watty  was,  to  be  brief,  a  brick :  silent,  patient,  all-comprehend- 
ing, infinitely  quick,  and  pleasant  to  look  at.  He  was  spare  and 
straight,  with  a  light  curly  head,  a  fine  coat  of  tan,  and  a  blue  dogged 
eye  meeting  yours  squarely :  the  perfect  type  of  some  imagined  Brit- 
ish private  in  The  Daily  Mirror ',  saving  the  colors  in  a  far-away 
scrimmage.  He  knew  his  business,  and  made  a  loyal  scout  to  the 
women  and  the  men  whom  he  must  (at  least  at  the  outset)  have 
thought  completely  crazy.  His  costume  was  corduroy  of  a  cinnamon 
brown,  hot  weather  as  it  was;  his  sleeves  were  rolled  back  to  the 
elbow  over  nervy  arms  tattooed  up,  down,  and  across  with  Lillie, 
and  the  ineradicable  marginal  scroll-work  to  the  same;  his  trousers 


1913-]  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  771 

were  clipped  below  the  knee  with  metal  rings,  displaying  to  great 
advantage  shoes  hobnailed  and  iron-crescented  like  the  horse's  own ; 
his  buckled  belt  was  medievally  gay,  and  carried  in  the  middle, 
behind,  the  huge  key  of  the  half-hundred  locks  we  were  to  travel 
through.  Watty  was  a  bargee  born  and  bred,  but  had  no  opinion 
of  bargees  as  a  class.  For  those  wanderers  of  the  Gentile  world 
to  whom  he  alluded  as  "  roadsters,"  he  had  less  "  dis-veneration." 

Bargees  were  too  rough  for  us,  he  said.  This  depreciation 
whipped  up  our  interest  not  a  little.  The  women  we  passed  all 
wore  striped  calicoes  and  black  sunbonnets;  they  were  strong,  taci- 
turn, big-boned  creatures,  generally  stationed  at  the  helm,  and 
managing  the  huge  tiller  with  half  the  fingers  of  one  hand.  The 
men,  one  to  a  craft,  trod  the  path  with  the  plodding  beast,  and 
threw  the  loose  guiding-rope  over  bridges  and  boats  with  the  most 
careless  dexterity.  Watty  was  a  wonder  in  the  exercise  of  this 
primitive  but  not  uncomplicated  art,  stimulated,  doubtless,  by 
the  consciousness  that  his  fares  were  there  to  be  edified.  He 
put  on  an  aggressive  air  as  human  beings  hove  in  sight:  one  saw 
his  responsibilities  coming  erect,  hair  by  hair,  exactly  as  on  Wags' 
absurd  little  back.  Watty  certainly  went  prepared  to  defend  us 
with  his  life  against  the  jibes  our  unexpected  appearance  might  well 
have  provoked.  For  every  other  vessel  on  the  canal  was  sunk  low 
to  the  waterline,  transporting  coal  or  stone,  while  ours  towered  high 
in  air  as  an  "empty;"  their  crew  were  working- folk  on  their 
rounds,  and  ours  only  tired  brains  frivolling  in  search  of  rest. 

It  behoved  us  to  be  civil  toward  the  native  element  (a  people 
as  much  apart  as  the  gypsies),  whose  realm  we  were  traversing. 
Civil  we  were,  with  our  six  honeyed  "  Good-mornings !  "  full  in 
the  teeth  of  the  black-browed  men,  the  stolid  women,  of  the  inland 
waterways;  civil  they  inevitably  had  to  be  in  return.  Some  of  our 
party  neither  had,  nor  affected  to  have,  any  interest  whatever 
in  the  very  young  of  the  species,  who  invariably  accompanied  their 
parents  on  the  gaily-painted  domestic  part  of  the  Ethiop  or 
Wild  Rose  or  Royal  Rover.  But  what  most  brigand-like 
bargee  on  earth  could  resist  A's  perfectly  genuine  tributes :  "  See 
that  de-licious  tiny  mite !  What  curls !  "  etc.,  etc.  We  got  nothing 
but  smiles  from  O to  B and  back  again :  hard,  weather- 
beaten,  quizzical  smiles,  the  substructure  of  which  must  have  been 
common  or  garden  contumely.  "  It  gave  delight  and  hurt  not." 
In  fact,  the  dire  threats  we  had  heard  went  up  in  smoke.  Ap- 
parently, there  was  no  real  incompatibility  between  brother  vaga- 


772  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  [Sept., 

bonds,  the  aloof  tribe  and  our  idling  selves.  Our  whole  party  got 
quite  corybantic,  the  third  day  out,  on  the  subject,  and  filled  the 
lonely  miles  with  neo-Georgian  balladry  of  the  impromptu  sort. 
It  ran  something  like  this : 

Soprano  solo.     Animato,  piano. 

They  told  me  of  the  cruel  Bargee 

With  blood  and  oaths  defiled : 
But,  oh!  [allargando]  the  Bargee  that  I  have  met, 

Than  sucking-pig  [con  tenerezza]   more  mild! 

Bassi.     Furioso,  ff. 

They  told  me  of  the  brass  Bargee 
Upstanding  devilish  grim: 

Chorus.    Molto  soave  ma  marcato. 

But,  oh!  the  Bargee  that  I  have  met, 
Would  I  were  good  like  him! 

And  so  on,  interminably  antiphonal.  .  So  very  pleasing  seemed  the 
situation ! 

Just  where  did  we  go,  just  what  did  we  see?  One  must  be 
non-biographical,  to  do  honor  to  that  journey  and  those  adventures. 
Nobody  kept  a  diary;  we  set  out  with  one  unanimous  passion  and 
aim:  to  get  nowhere  and  to  do  nothing  in  particular.  There  is  a 
careful  and  charming  book  called  Inland  Navigation,  worth  the 
study  which  it  never  won  from  any  of  us.  Of  course  we  carried 
divers  local  charts,  the  inch-to-a-mile  ones.  They  added  greatly 
to  our  lazy  pleasure.  Our  course  was  a  purely  fatalistic  choice: 
we  stuck  to  the  local  canal.  It  is  one  of  many  delectable  and 
intersecting  waterways  which  cross  the  country  in  every  conceivable 
direction,  but  go  unnoted  by  the  casual  scanner  of  ordnance  maps. 
Almost  all  the  English  canals  were  laid  out  at  a  time  when  inland 
navigation  was  in  its  prime,  and  while  nobody  dreamed  of  any 
upstart  invention  which  might  supersede  it.  Even  when  the  great 
railway  companies  became  well-established,  and  had  bought  up  their 
sleepy  water  rivals,  they  were  in  most  instances  bound  by  contract 
to  maintain  the  canals  in  perfect  repair:  ^ hence  these  have  been 
well-kept  through  centuries  of  practical  disuse.  Even  the  Sapper- 
ton  Tunnel  in  the  Cotswold  hills,  where  no  boat  enters  now,  is 
open  and  passable  through  its  dark  difficult  miles ;  and  if  one  finds 
a  blocked  way,  as  for  instance  in  some  of  the  loveliest  scenery  of 
Berkshire  and  Wiltshire,  it  serves  as  occasion  for  the  just  wrath 


1913.]  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  773 

of  the  conservative,  and  a  grievance  finds  vent  once  more  in  the 
newspapers. 

A  more  delightful  device  for  going  the  longest  way  round, 
and  with  the  greatest  possible  expenditure  of  time,  cannot  be  imag- 
ined. Our  own  actual  rate  of  speed  was  little  over  two  miles  an 
hour!  The  route  lies,  more  often  than  not,  through  the  most 
unfrequented  and  romantic  places,  but  sometimes  in  the  near  vicin- 
ity of  villages,  and  once  in  a  while  sheer  across  a  town.  Lowlands 
and  low  hills  are  the  natural  mise-en-scene  for  a  canal,  unless  this 
runs,  as  it  does  on  the  Welsh  Border,  and  elsewhere,  along  the 
mountain  sides.  The  velvet  banks,  the  winding,  tree-shadowed 
reaches,  the  presence  of  fish  and  water-fowl,  make  these  man- 
made  channels  as  full  of  natural  graces  (save  only  that  there  is 
no  gurgle  of  motion)  as  a  stream.  A  canal  always  has  some  river, 
indeed,  for  neighbor,  and  into  the  river,  at  given  points,  the  canal 
lock  opens,  so  that  for  a  hundred  yards,  or  it  may  be  a  mile,  the 
two  are  one.  Then  a  boat  is  received  by  an  oozy  gate,  swinging 
to  behind ;  the  sudden  torrent  pours  from  under  the  keel,  or  should- 
ers it  buoyantly  higher  and  higher  until,  upborne  to  the  level,  the 
voyager  emerges  through  the  second  gate  upon  the  more  sluggish 
waters.  A  great  charm  hangs  about  these  little  old  solitary  pound- 
locks.  Leonardo  da  Vinci  is  said  to  have  invented  them,  and 
they  seem  well  worthy  of  that  eternal  dreamer,  while  you  let 
yourself  in  and  out  of  the  roofless  stone  chamber,  tapestried  with 
moss,  and  frescoed  with  emerald,  bronze,  and  copper  stains.  A 
bridge,  being  a  road-carrier,  is  almost  always  hard  by  a  lock, 
so  that  the  helmsman  of  a  barge  has  the  pleasure  of  shooting  not 
only  the  narrow  lock-entrance,  but  an  equally  narrow  stone  corridor 
under  the  arch:  this  has  usually  the  perverse  distinction  of  being 
diagonal,  and  barely  an  inch  wider,  on  each  side,  than  the  clumsy 
craft  it  grudgingly  accommodates. 

The  bargee  idea  of  efficiency  is  of  course  to  go  through  with- 
out bump  or  hitch.  The  enormous  tiller  is  as  responsive  as  possible ; 
yet  some  study  is  exacted  from  its  ruling  spirit,  owing  to  the  whims 
of  a  deballasted  hollow  boat  as  long  as  a  house.  What  does  for  the 
fore  part,  in  the  matter  of  direction,  will  decidedly  not  do  for  the 
middle  or  the  rear;  and  a  cross  wind,  with  such  a  broadside  on, 
makes  the  craft  quite  unmanageable,  without  a  counter-push  from 
the  near  tow-path  to  play  up  to  the  horse's  rectangular  rope-pull 
ahead.  This  counter-push  generally  turned  out  to  be  Watty's  un- 
aided business.  Much  of  his  time,  during  our  first  days,  was  spent 


774  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  [Sept., 

in  shoving  the  bulky  Moll  from  banks  and  mud-shoals.  Wind  had 
something  to  do  with  such  curvatures,  but  so  had  the  'prentice 
hand.  Seventy  times  seven  times  per  day  would  Watty  seize  that 
hooked  pole,  on,  under,  or  with  which  he  performed,  uncomplain- 
ingly, his  acrobatic  feat.  One's  cumulative  skill  in  steering  eventu- 
ally saved  him  the  necessity  of  like  efforts ;  but  while  they  lasted,  he 
was  watched  with  thrilling  concern.  It  seemed  impossible  that 
the  pole  he  was  so  grimly  pushing  into  his  person,  to  save  our 
seamanship,  should  not  run  out  through  his  disinterested  vitals,  and 
dislodge  the  lock-key  in  the  process ! 

The  professional  bargee,  unlike  the  amateur,  cannot  move  about 
in  his  grimy  shell,  laden  as  it  is  to  the  water's  edge  with  a  heavy 
cargo.  He  is  free  only  of  the  stuffy  cabin  where  he  eats  and 
sleeps,  and  of  the  bit  of  flooring  from  which  he  descends  to  it. 
In  the  phenomenal  English  summer  of  1911,  the  Moll  became  an 
unbearable  Tophet,  with  her  black  tarry  sides,  deep  dungeon,  blis- 
tered planks,  and  ever-slipping  little  stairway,  which  with  persist- 
ence worthy  of  a  better  cause,  broke  all  our  skulls,  spines,  shins, 
and  elbows,  one  by  one.  We  generally  struck  camp  and  started 
on  our  way  about  half -past  eight  each  morning,  ran  into  the  most 
available  bank  before  eleven,  and  kept  under  the  shade  of  trees 
thereabouts  in  peace  until  about  four,  when  all  trooped  aboard 
again,  and  became  re-disposed  "  for  to  be'old  the  world  so  wide," 
until  night  should  fall.  Our  only  use  for  the  Moll  was  to  loll  on 
her  high  poop,  or  range  along  her  counter-like  side  to  snatch  a 
precarious  late  supper  from  her  Spartan  larder.  In  the  long  ex- 
quisite English  twilight,  we  would  begin  to  bivouac  about  eight 
o'clock,  laboriously  dragging  all  the  collapsible  beds  and  their  bed- 
ding into  some  sloping  field  which  took  our  fancy.  We  always 
offered  the  usual  extremely  moderate  legal  camping-fee;  but  in 
one  instance  only  was  it  accepted.  Roasting  weather  as  it  was 
by  day,  we  all  went  to  sleep  clad  in  every  extra  old  coat  and  dress- 
ing-gown to  be  had,  and  snuggled  down  under  a  pile  of  rugs 
peculiar,  one  would  think,  to  a  Polar  expedition.  Nobody  ever 
complained  of  heat  at  night:  which  marks  a  sufficient  difference 
between  Albion's  isle,  and  our  unspeakable  after-dark  thermometer 
in  a  New  England  July,  peopled  by  mosquitoes.  The  sounds  we 
heard  were  all  soothing.  It  was  too  late  for  the  nightingales,  but 
the  wood-pigeons  cooed  enchantingly.  Old  belfries  bespoke  us 
hourly  over  acres  of  cornfields,  or  the  grown  lambs,  with  their  yet 
unbroken  treble,  bleated  once  or  twice  from  the  nearest  fold;  even 


1913.]  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  775 

the  Great  Western  had  a  far-off,  not  unmelodious  rumble,  mingled 
with  our  dreams  on  some  velvety  hillside  under  the  dark-blue 
midnight  sky.  And  what  sleep  it  was !  of  godlike  depth,  opacity, 
and  duration.  We  had  nothing  to  learn  from  the  Seven  of  Ephe- 
sus. 

One  night  an  extremely  wrathful  thunderstorm  broke  sud- 
denly over  us,  and  of  the  five  who  slept  without  tents,  only  three 
chose  to  go  under  cover.  The  two  effiges  who  lay  out  had  "  the 
time  of  their  lives,"  not  falling  out  of  step  thereby  with  a  soldier 
ancestry  of  hard  campaigns.  Conscious  virtue  lulled  them  to  sleep 
again,  and  there  were  no  ugly  rheumatics  by  the  morning  light. 
Night  is  always  divine  under  the  stars,  and  in  the  fragrance  of 
blossomy  fields.  We  grew  quite  soft  and  Capuan,  and  cast  about 
for  an  environment  of  haystacks,  or  for  hedges  providing  wild 
roses  aloft  or  wild  thyme  underfoot.  One  of  the  party  habitu- 
ally said  his  night  prayers,  and  laid  him  down  to  sleep  on  the 
cabin  roof  of  the  Moll,  under  a  sheltering  willow  bough :  a  romantic 
site,  and  not  roll-off-able.  But  it  had  its  disadvantages,  as  to  the 
thus  easily-localized  victim  fell  the  lot  of  drawing  all  the  water 
for  ablutions  in  the  morning,  while  our  man  Watty  foraged  among 
the  farms  for  milk,  eggs,  bread,  and  butter. 

In  the  captain's  roomy  tent  stood  the  tribal  tub:  a  fearsome 
shallow  rubber  thing,  clean  but  squshy,  from  which  in  turn  the 
family  emerged,  looking  its  loveliest,  in  bewildering  ole  clo'.  The 
canal  being  ineligible,  the  swimmers  of  the  party  had  often  to  travel 
far  in  search  of  a  pool,  a  thing  not  hard  to  find  in  normal  weather, 
but  just  then  desperately  rare;  once,  however,  they  found  the 
pool  most  beatifically  realized  in  a  disused  ancient  monastic  reser- 
voir, far  up  in  the  hills:  very  deep  it  was,  and  pure  yet,  though 
so  bearded  with  thick  tall  reeds  that  ingress  and  egress  were  muddy 
and  prickly  matters,  causative  of  cruel  jibes  from  the  non-amphib- 
ious minority.  At  another  time  they  tried  the  almost  empty  Cher- 
well,  and  had  hardly  forded  it  to  a  sand-floored  basin  just  under 
five  feet  deep,  and  paused  in  a  conclave  consisting  of  heads  to  scan 
the  beauty  of  our 

....  little  patch  of  sky, 
And  little  plot  of  stars, 

i 
when  as  silently  as  a  shadow,  and  unaware  until  he  was  full  upon 

them,  came  a  youth  in  a  canoe,  his  face  brightening  into  a  sort  of 
affectionate  apology  as  he  glided  past  while  the  assembled  kelpies 


776  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  [Sept., 

grinned  their  best  at  him  the  while,  as  at  a  visitant  from  the  un- 
known world.  It  was  all  an  idyll  of  a  moment,  an  idyll  of  lonely 
places,  like  something  out  of  Theocritus. 

The  weather  saw  to  it  that  excursions  were  at  a  minimum. 
Not  that  little  walks  and  drives  were  wholly  out  of  the  question. 
The  smouldering  antiquarianism  of  some  of  our  party  flamed  up 
almost  daily,  and  involved  much  mooning  over  venerable  churches 
on  hills  and  in  vales.  And  of  course  the  Catholics  had  to  travel 
to  Sunday  Mass :  distance  was  literally  "  no  object !  "  and  quite 
material  as  well  as  spiritual  was  the  reward  when  in  their  hot  boots 
they  reached  the  door  of  some  little  Gothic  sanctuary  with  a  cool 
quiet  interior,  and  a  reverent  country  congregation  singing  the 
De  Angelis  under  their  own  Roodbeam,  with  all  their  hearts. 

Our  table  had  limits,  but  was  admirable  within  those  limits. 
It  was  a  sad  day  when  we  had  to  deplete  our  stock,  by  throwing 
overboard  every  pot  of  the  jam,  honey,  and  marmalade,  with  which 
all  Great  Britain  is  on  such  loving  terms.  The  unwonted  heat 
brought  a  plague  of  wasps  all  over  the  countryside;  literally  thou- 
sands of  them  boarded  the  Moll,  intent,  not  on  molesting  us,  but  on 
raiding  our  preserves.  It  seemed  judicious  to  come  to  a  quick 
decision.  As  Newman  says  somewhere  of  a  bore,  "  You  may  yield, 
or  you  may  flee:  you  cannot  conquer."  One  day  we  were  fated 
to  run  short  of  drinking  water,  though  fortunately  not  of  oranges. 
Many  were  the  British  blessings,  in  those  Lenten  days,  showered 
upon  canned  sweet  corn  and  Heinz's  baked  beans,  and  other  life- 
saving  American  condiments!  Moreover,  we  were  all  poor  to- 
gether, and  unaffectedly  gay  on  half-rations.  Nor  did  we  fail 
to  "count  our  blessings."  "There's  the  wind  on  the  heath, 
brother !  "  was  not  quoted,  or  taken,  ironically.  All  work,  in- 
cluding cooking,  went  by  turns;  dishwashing,  though  reduced  to 
a  minimum  by  paper  serviettes  and  cardboard  plates,  was  not  the 
most  popular  department.  Rather,  it  was  the  bedmaker  who  lived 
in  clover.  The  bursar  managed  to  get  the  accounts  straight,  share 
and  share  alike,  to  a  ha'penny:  the  senior  man  and  his  pipe  were 
miracles  of  first  aid  and  good-humor;  the  two  midshipmites,  nine- 
teen and  sixteen,  went  barefoot,  shelled  nuts,  sang  wild  nonsense- 
songs,  and  raised  such  complexions  as  have  never  been  seen  off  an 
ebony  post :  such  were  their  magna  opera,  their  contribution  to  the 
arduosities  of  life  on  a  barge.  The  beaming  things!  No 
anathema  could  so  much  as  scratch  them. 

Then,  to  add  to  the  joy  of  life,  there  were  always  the  two 


1913.]  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  777 

beasts.  The  Irish  terrier,  Wags,  a  tight  wiry  rogue  with  an  all- 
knowing  eye,  never  got  entirely  reconciled  to  the  business  which 
his  missis  seemed  to  have  adopted  for  life :  gypsy  ing  was  not  quite 
what  he  would  have  chosen  for  that  adored  being.  When  he  was 
not  leaping  ashore  and  back  again,  sometimes  miscalculating,  and 
flopping  sensationally  into  the  muddy  water,  for  the  sake  of  hear- 
ing her  oboe-like  plaint :  "  Oh,  Wag-let  mine !  "  he  kept  tearing  up 
and  down  the  unintelligible,  unlovely  moving  house  where  no  manly 
diversion,  not  even  cat-chasing,  was  to  be  had  for  love  or  money. 
However,  one  morning,  on  his  first  surreptitious  prowl,  he  cap- 
tured a  mole  in  the  hedges:  the  poor  little  velvety  funnel-shaped 
beastie  gave  one  dying  squeak  which  woke  some  of  us  before 
dawn. 

On  another  occasion  we  arose  unanimously  and  blessed 
Wags  (really  not  a  murderer  by  instinct  or  habit),  for  purely 
eleemosynary  reasons.  At  the  turn  of  the  lane,  in  a  village  so 
enchanting  that  we  hung  about  it  for  five  whole  days  of  our  short 
seventeen,  sat  a  large  white  contemplative  hen.  What  she  said 
to  Wags,  going  by  alone,  has  not  been  clearly  revealed;  but  what- 
ever it  was,  her  fluffy  upholstery  promptly  strewed  the  ground.  We 
bore  down  in  a  body,  wildly  apologetic;  Wags'  contrite  missis  wal- 
lopped  Wags,  and  offered  liberal  blood  money ;  the  bereaved  farmer, 
grinning  from  ear  to  ear  in  the  teeth  of  such  a  tragedy,  went 
her  one  better,  and  had  the  holocaust  plucked  and  roasted  for  us! 
It  was  literally  our  only  meat,  save  a  cooked  ham  brought  aboard 
when  we  first  loaded  for  the  voyage.  After  that,  large  white 
hens,  doubtless  in  blind  obedience  to  their  owners,  sat  continuously 
at  that  turn  of  the  lane  as  the  chastened,  or  sated,  Wags  went 
by;  but  silver  flowed  perforce  no  more  from  his  lady's  depleted 
wallet. 

Then  there  was  Dobbin,  the  strong  little  horse,  perfectly  tract- 
able, but  used  neither  to  barge-pulling  nor  to  bargees.  Watty  was 
good  to  him,  laughed  at  him,  fed  him,  taught  him  much  strange 
lore,  and  sometimes  expended  upon  him  a  vernacular  not  without 
vigor.  Overworked  Dobbin  was  not.  In  fact,  when  we  camped  so 

long  in  humble  and  beautiful  C (chiefly,  I  fear  me,  because 

King  Charles,  arrayed  "  in  a  velvet  surcoate  and  white  armour, 
with  ye  collar  of  ye  George,"  won  a  fight  there  once,  down  by  the 
bridge  where  Roundhead  spurs  and  swords  are  washed  up  yet  in 
the  freshets),  Dobbin  went  to  glory.  Introduced  into  the  big 
"  green  caravanserai "  where  our  fixtures  and  belongings  lay  from 


778  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  [Sept., 

five  to  fifteen  feet  apart,  he  got  upon  his  back,  and  kicked  and  rolled 
among  them  the  whole  length  of  the  field;  and  this  performance 
he  repeated  every  time  we  looked  at  him,  with  or  without  mention 
of  sugar.  Now  a  certain  solemn  little  old  donkey,  with  the  loveliest 
dove-gray  coat,  was  the  proprietor  of  that  broad,  beautiful  field, 
with  its  close-cut  slope,  its  walnut-trees,  its  hedgerows,  its  water- 
front, and  its  view  of  the  distant  hills,  its  music  of  thrushes  and 
of  church-bells.  It  was  his,  and  he  said  so :  not  only  to  Dobbin 
and  Wags,  but  to  four  English  and  two  Americans,  singly  and  con- 
jointly; also  to  Watty.  Not  being  heeded,  he  took  up  an  attitude 
of  unique  protest.  An  attitude  indeed  it  was. 

Our  memory  of  C will  always  include  in  the  foreground 

that  long  white  nozzle,  those  resentful  and  utterly  parallel  little  legs, 
always  and  immovably  turned  towards  the  intruders.  He  ate  not, 
neither  slept;  whatever  was  his  vocation  in  the  rural  world,  he 
eschewed  it  totally  for  the  time;  he  made  it  his  sole  business  to 
stand  and  stare.  At  breakfast-time,  at  noon,  at  dusk,  there  Neddy's 
statue  rose  on  its  mound-pedestal.  Out  of  many  naps,  diurnal  or 
nocturnal,  we  awoke  to  find  the  eye  of  Neddy  dominating  the 
situation,  never  a  hair's  breadth  from  the  spot,  where  with  the 
indignation  of  the  landed  gentry  driven  to  bay,  he  first  watched  our 
entry.  He  was  there  when  Watty  swung  the  last  planks  aboard  the 
Moll,  and  began  his  tow-path  trudge  homeward,  with  his  hand 
on  Dobbin's  rope-hung,  rotund  back ;  when  we  looked  our  last  from 
the  fold  of  the  uplands,  over  the  still  water,  to  the  vanishing 

tower  of  C ,  there  was  the  consistent  creature,  still  playing  his 

psychic  solo,  by  no  alien  blandishments  subdued.  Bless  his  one- 
idea'd  little  British  heart! 

Two  nights  before  we  were  mustered  out,  we  parted  with  the 
gentle  and  resourceful  captain,  and  with  her  Wags.  Their  belong- 
ings went  off  in  a  country  cart,  and  themselves,  met  by  friends, 
on  foot  over  the  fields.  Emotionally,  then,  Wags  had  no  further 
interest  in  the  barge,  the  one  loved  being  having  abandoned  it  with 
him,  in  favor  of  home.  But  intellectually  he  continued  to  take 
a  vehement  interest  in  all  our  goings-on.  The  Moll  had  by  now 
quitted  the  canal  (which  was  to  be  closed  over  bank  holiday)  and 
had  worked  into  the  upper  Thames,  where,  among  lush  meadows, 
we  made  our  last  bivouac,  about  a  mile  from  Wags'  domicile. 
Down  he  came  alone  on  each  evening,  planted  himself  on  the  oppo- 
site bank,  and  with  a  most  controlled  civility,  for  an  hour  on  end 
rolled  his  eye  heavenwards,  inquiring  why  we  still  sat  in  the  stalls 


1913-]  THE  AMATEUR  BARGEE  779 

when  the  play  was  over  ?  Was  there  not  a  house  yonder,  his  house  ? 
Did  not  bipeds  of  our  species  usually  prefer  houses?  Was  not 
the  pearl  of  the  company,  the  crown  of  creation,  the  peerless  she, 
our  own  friend,  in  that  house?  Was  not  himself  (this  with  a 
world  of  ingratiating  swagger),  in  that  house,  and  more  than 
ready  to  give  us  all  bed  and  board  of  a  kind  we  were  foregoing, 
under  this  hard  necessity  of  bargee  life?  And  after  the  long  argu- 
ment, he  would  unstiffen  his  tail,  and  go  very  deprecatingly  on  his 
way,  often  looking  back  with  that  unsatisfied  Why-in-the-name-of- 
common-sense  query  in  his  rational  little  brown  eye. 

We  had  set  out,  as  I  have  said,  with  next  to  no  plan,  but  we 
traveled  far  and  fell  on  divers  wonders.  Farmsteads,  great  and 
small,  with  their  perennial  life  and  homelikeness ;  venerable  churches 
in  lonely  places,  full  of  architectural  interest  and  historical  mystery; 
old  battlefields,  most  critically  crossed  and  recrossed,  chart  in  hand : 
— these  are  but  three  of  the  ever-recurring  delights  of  our  odd 
outing.  Better  even  than  these  was  the  personal  hold  one  seemed 
to  take  on  great  things :  on  limitless  horizons,  spoiled  by  no  city's 
smoke,  and  on 

....  lights  and  shades 

That  marched  and  countermarched  across  the  hills 

In  glorious  apparition. 

No  one  of  us  ever  so  enjoyed  motion :  the  dustless,  unfelt, 
unsmelt,  motion  of  the  creeping  keel,  whereby  one  comes  through 
such  a  primitive  archway  of  pleasure  into  the  inheritance  of  simple 
hearts.  Bargees  are  not  a  talkative  people :  none  are,  who  live  in 
the  open.  We  fell  into  their  ways,  and  exchanged  the  high  com- 
pliment of  much  silence.  The  best  outcome  of  the  adventure  was 
that,  when  we  came  reluctantly  to  the  urban  canal  wharf,  beyond 
which  lay  conversation  and  clothes  and  menus  and  brainwork, 
and  the  other  burdens  of  our  mortal  lot,  we  knew  that  we  loved 
one  another  better  for  a  not  riotous  holiday,  and  a  temporary  with- 
drawal from  the  world.  May  any  who  follow  in  our  wake  cap- 
ture from  nature  and  from  human  nature,  if  no  more  numerous 
statistics,  at  least  as  much  of  peace ! 


THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION. 

BY  GRACE  V.  CHRISTMAS. 
I. 

T  seemed  to  me,"  remarked  the  Reverend  James 
Broughton  in  a  meditative  manner,  as  he  handed 
his  coffee  cup  to  be  refilled,  "  that  I  heard  various 
unaccountable  noises  during  the  night." 

Mrs.    Broughton   gave   vent   to    an    impatient 
ejaculation  as  she  took  up  the  coffee  pot. 

r<  What  nonsense,  James !  Here  take  your  coffee.  I  must 
beg  of  you  not  to  let  anyone  hear  you  talk  about  noises  in  the 
night,  and  that  kind  of  rubbish.  It  is  an  old  house,  and,  of  course, 
the  church  is  older  still,  but  we  shan't  keep  our  servants  a  week 
if  you  set  them  off  on  ghosts.  Besides  there  are  no  such  things." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  doing  so,  my  dear,"  replied  her  hus- 
band mildly.  "  Even  if  I  were  convinced  that  I  heard  sounds 
which  are  not  easily  to  be  explained  or  described,  I  should  not 
dream  of  taking  my  domestics  into  my  confidence  on  the  subject. 
But  there  most  certainly  is  a  peculiar  atmosphere  about  the  place 
which  I  noticed  the  day  we  arrived.  However,  since  it  annoys 
you — "  He  paused  expressively,  rose  from  the  table,  and  passed 
through  the  French  window  into  the  sunny  garden. 

It  was  only  a  week  since  James  Broughton  had  been  appointed 
Rector  of  Marshley,  and  his  friends  and  acquaintances  considered 
that  he  was  in  consequence  a  very  ludky  man.  It  was  a  living  of 
seven  hundred  a  year,  a  charmingly  situated  house  with  a  garden 
and  orchard  sloping  down  to  the  bank  of  a  river,  while  the  pic- 
turesque church  of  the  early  Norman  period  dated  from  the  thir- 
teenth century,  and  was  a  joy  to  the  antiquarian. 

"  I  wish  James  would  not  get  such  extraordinary  notions  into 
his  head,"  reflected  Mrs.  Broughton  when  she  was  left  alone. 
"  If  he  once  imagines  there  is  a  ghost  here,  Sybil  will  too,  and 
there  will  be  no  peace  at  all.  Atmosphere  indeed,  I  wonder  what 
he  meant  by  that !  " 

Mrs.  Broughton  belonged  to  that  class  of  human  beings  who 
are  extremely  definite  in  their  views  upon  every  subject,  and  are 
always  prepared  at  a  moment's  notice  to  give  evidence  to  the  faith — 


1913.]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  781 

or  rather  lack  of  it — which  is  within  them.  Those  things  which 
she  could  see  and  feel  she  believed  in,  but  those  others,  and  they 
were  a  large  number,  which  lay  outside  and  beyond  the  circum- 
scribed limits  of  her  personal  experience,  she  unhesitatingly  labelled 
rubbish.  She  was  not  only  entirely  devoid  of  sentiment,  but  also 
of  imagination,  considered  all  novels  trash,  and  freely  expressed 
her  opinion  that  a  man  who  wrote  poetry  was  next  door  to  a 
fool.  It  was  this  woman  whom  James  Broughton,  with  his  head 
in  the  stars  and  his  dreamy  scholarly  nature,  had  fallen  in  love 
with  and  married,  and  it  was  not  until  the  end  of  the  honeymoon 
that  he  had  discovered  that  what  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  was 
an  ideal  of  his  own  creation,  and  what  he  had  married  bore  not 
the  most  remote  resemblance  to  it.  It  was  not,  however,  an  un- 
happy marriage  on  the  whole.  They  got  on  fairly  well  together 
on  the  surface,  but,  the  days  of  glamor  ended,  neither  entertained 
any  illusions  respecting  the  other,  and  it  was  to  his  only  daughter 
Sybil  that  James  Broughton  turned  for  that  sympathy  and  com- 
prehension which  is  to  men  of  his  type  the  one  essential.  He  was 
waiting  for  her  to  join  him  now  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
broad  grass  walk  by  the  old  sundial,  for  she  always  kept  him 
company  while  he  smoked  his  morning  pipe,  and  in  a  few  moments 
he  saw  the  flicker  of  her  white  skirts  among  the  laurel  bushes  as 
she  ran  across  the  lawn. 

"  I  couldn't  get  away  any  sooner,  dad,  I  was  awfully  late  for 
breakfast,  and  mother  has  been  giving  me  her  views  on  early  rising 
and  punctuality  and  several  other  things,  and  that  took  time.  She 
seemed  rather  rubbed  up  somehow." 

There  was  a  passing  gleam  of  amusement  in  the  Rector's  eyes 
as  he  looked  at  his  daughter.  In  one  respect  he  was  not  exactly 
true  to  type,  for  he  was  possessed  of  the  saving  grace  of  humor. 
Not  a  great  deal  of  it  perhaps,  but  just  enough  to  carry  him 
cheerfully  over  the  rough  places  of  life. 

"  I  was  telling  your  mother  that  the  atmosphere  of  this  place 
struck  me  as  a  little  out  of  the  common." 

Sybil  nodded  sympathetically,  and  her  eyes  lit  up. 

"  Oh,  I  see,  yes,  that  would  account  for  it.  Mother  hasn't 
any  use  for  atmosphere.  But  you  are  quite  right,  dad,  and  I  am 
awfully  glad  it  affects  you  too.  I  feel  it  everywhere.  What  do 
you  think  it  is  ?  " 

The  Rector  considered  for  a  moment.  He  was  a  studious, 
cultivated  man,  had  read  much  and  thought  much,  and  had  conse- 


782  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

quently  realized  that  his  knowledge  amounted  to  very  little.  Unlike 
his  wife,  he  was  seldom  prepared  to  give  a  definite  opinion.  "  I 
think  it  may  possibly  be  on  account  of  its  past  history,"  he 
said  at  last.  "  Strange  things  may  have  happened  here,  and  you 
and  I  who  are  susceptible  to  such  influences  may  find  ourselves 
affected  by  them.  That  is  what  I  think — at  least  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  that  were  the  case." 

"  It  was  awfully  queer,  the  other  afternoon,"  went  on  Sybil. 
"  I  went  into  the  church  for  a  few  minutes  on  my  way  home.  It 
was  getting  dusk,  and  I  had  the  oddest  feeling  that  there  was 
someone  else  in  the  church,  though  I  couldn't  see  anyone.  I 
wasn't  frightened  exactly,  more  excited  and  interested,  and  I 
felt  very  strongly  that  it — whatever  it  was — wanted  to  get  into 
communication  with  me  and  couldn't  do  it." 

The  Rector  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  gorgeously-tinted  autumn 
leaves  which  he  was  rustling  with  his  feet,  as  they  walked  up  and 
down.  His  daughter  had  inadvertently  but  most  accurately  de- 
scribed his  own  sensations  during  the  early  morning  service,  a  fact 
which  he  considered  it  wiser  to  keep  to  himself. 

"  We  must  not  let  this  idea  take  too  great  a  hold  on  us,  my 
child,"  he  remarked  with  an  abstracted  air,  "  it  will  possibly  wear 
(M  as  we  grow  more  accustomed  to  our  new  surroundings,  and  in 
any  case — er — it  doesn't  interest  your  mother." 

Sybil  smiled  roguishly.  Without  being  strictly  pretty,  her 
face  was  full  of  charm,  and  her  smile  was  a  thing  to  be  remem- 
bered. l  'Doesn't  interest'  is  rather  good,  but  I  could  have  put 
it  much  more  forcibly.  Well,  we  will  keep  it  to  ourselves  all 
right,  but  my  conviction  is  that  instead  of  wearing  off  it  will 
become  stronger,  till  it — or  they — have  found  some  way  of  letting 
us  know  what  they  really  want.  There's  mother  calling,  I  must 
rush." 

James  Broughton  continued  his  quarter  deck  exercise  for  some 
time  after  his  daughter  had  left  him.  He  was  reviewing  in  his 
own  mind  the  sensations  he  had  experienced  during  the  early 
service  that  morning,  and  finally  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
Sybil  had  somehow  or  other  hit  upon  the  word  of  the  enigma. 
"  That  is  it,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "  whoever  or  whatever  it  is 
whose  influence  affects  us  so  powerfully,  wants  something  or  other, 
but  what,  and  how  could  we  possibly  give  it  to  them?  That  is 
the  question."  And  it  was  one  which  the  Rector  of  Marshley  found 
himself  totally  unable  to  answer. 


1913-]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  783 


II. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  James  ?  You  are  very  silent  this  morn- 
ing. No  one  can  get  a  word  out  of  you." 

It  was  a  fortnight  later,  and  the  Rector  of  Marshley,  and  his 
wife  and  daughter  were  at  breakfast,  Sybil  having  for  once  man- 
aged to  be  in  time  and  so  escape  maternal  admonitions. 

"Oh — er — am  I  more  silent  than  usual,  my  dear?"  inquired 
the  Rector  taking  refuge  in  evasion. 

"  Well,  you  have  made  exactly  two  remarks  since  you  came 
into  the  room,  and  one  was  to  ask  for  the  butter." 

James  Broughton  glanced  hastily  and  somewhat  furtively  at 
his  daughter,  who  was  watching  him  intently  from  the  other  side 
of  the  flower-decked  table,  and  cleared  his  throat  in  an  embar- 
rassed manner.  It  was  useless — he  had  proved  it  by  long  ex- 
perience— to  hoodwink  his  wife.  As  well  might  one  hope  to 
distract  a  fox  hound  when  the  scent  is  burning,  and  his  quarry 
but  one  field  ahead. 

"Well,  my  dear,  the  fact  is,"  he  began  hesitatingly,  "I — I 
am  not  feeling  very  fit  this  morning.  I — er — I  had  rather  a  bad 
night." 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Broughton  triumphantly,  "  I  knew 
it.  You  have  been  imagining  a  ghost  again.  How  a  man  of  your 
age  and — well  not  exactly  sense,  but  a  certain  amount  of  intelli- 
gence— can  lend  yourself  to  such  follies,  is  one  of  those  things 
which  I  shall  never  be  able  to  understand." 

"  I  thought  you  understood  everything,  mummie,"  murmured 
Sybil,  dropping  her  eyes  to  hide  their  laughter,  as  she  helped  her- 
self to  a  piece  of  toast. 

"Don't  be  impertinent,  Sybil.  Well,  James,  what  was  your 
visitor  like?  Was  it  dressed  in  a  long  white  robe,  and  did  it  lay 
an  icy  finger  on  your  forehead?  Let  us  hear  all  about  it.  It 
will  be  quite  amusing,  and  we  all  seem  a  little  dull  this  morning, 
it  may  cheer  us  up." 

Mrs.  Broughton  was  in  a  playful  mood,  and  though  her  per- 
siflage on  these  occasions  resembled  somewhat  the  gambols  of  an 
elephant,  they  were  yet  the  best  she  could  accomplish  in  that  line. 

The  Rector  summoned  his  dignity  to  his  aid.  "  I  had  no 
visitors  as  you  express  it,  and  my  imagination  does  not  run  away 
with  me  to  the  extent  of  fancying  I  see  white-robed  figures.  As 


784  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

I  told  you  I  have  not  had  a  very  good  night,  and — we  will  leave 
it  at  that.  I  should  like  a  little  more  coffee  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Broughton  rilled  his  cup  in  silence.  It  was  very  rarely 
that  her  husband  asserted  himself,  but  when  he  did  it  usually 
subdued  her — for  the  time  being.  As  soon  as  he  had  left  the 
room,  however,  on  the  pretext  of  an  important  letter  to  answer, 
she  began  again : 

"  I  cannot  conceive  why  your  father  should  have  taken  such 
odd  ideas  into  his  head  about  this  house.  It  doesn't  strike  me 
as  being  what  foolish  people  call  haunted." 

Sybil  rose  from  the  table  with  a  little  laugh.  "  No,  mummie, 
I  daresay  not,"  she  said.  "  You  see  you  are  not  susceptible  to 
supernatural  influences,  and  dad  and  I  are." 

"  Supernatural  fiddlesticks,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Broughton. 
"  Really  the  way  modern  girls  talk  is  too  ridiculous.  When  I 
was  young  no  one  knew  anything  about  such  rubbish." 

"  No,  mummie,  and  you  don't  now,  so  it's  no  use  my  trying  to 
explain  it  to  you !  "  And  before  her  mother  could  find  fitting  words 
to  express  her  wrath,  Sybil  had  made  her  escape  and  joined  her 
father  in  his  study. 

"  Well,  dad,"  she  began  expectantly. 

The  Rector  looked  up  from  his  writing,  and  laid  down  his 
pen.  "  Well,  what  ?  "  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  tiresome,  dad ;  you  know  what  I  mean  quite  well. 
Did  you  feel  anything  special  last  night?  " 

The  Rector  hesitated.  Chums  as  he  and  Sybil  were,  he  was 
not  sure  how  far  he  was  justified  in  taking  her  into  his  entire 
confidence  on  this  point,  especially  as  their  occult  discussions  were 
a  source  of  annoyance  to  her  mother.  He  was  no  longer  in  love 
with  his  wife,  but  he  was  very  loyal  to  her,  and  that  sums  up  the 
man's  character  as  well  as  anything. 

"  You  may  as  well  own  up,"  went  on  Sybil,  "  because  I  felt  it 
too." 

The  Rector  looked  at  her  with  a  startled  expression.  "  Felt  it  ? 
Felt  what,  tell  me  what  you  mean,  child  ?  " 

Sybil  laughed  and  perched  herself  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Ah,  that  is  rather  turning  the  tables !  However,  I  suppose  I 
shan't  get  anything  out  of  you  till  I  have  given  you  a  lead,  so 
here  goes  for  the  first  fence.  Well,  I  woke  up  suddenly  last  night, 
just  as  though  I  had  been  roused,  in  fact  my  first  idea  was  that 
someone  had  awakened  me,  and  I  wondered  drowsily  whether  you 


1913-]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  785 

or  mother  were  ill,  so  I  started  up  in  bed.  The  next  instant  I  was 
wide  awake,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen,  but  the  feeling 
that  somebody  was  in  the  room  was  unmistakable.  You  felt  it, 
too,  I'll  bet  you  anything  you  like." 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  the  Rector.  "  My  feelings  were  almost 
precisely  similar  to  yours,  but  we  must  remember  that  waking  up 
suddenly  is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  experience,  and  the  fact 
by  itself  is  hardly  sufficient  to  substantiate  a  proof  that — er — " 

"  Bunkum,  dad,  don't  use  such  long  words.  You  think  it  is 
your  duty  not  to  encourage  me  in  occultism — that's  understood. 
Now,  let  us  talk  sense.  I  know  as  well  as  you  do  that  lots  of  people 
wake  up  suddenly  in  the  night,  but  it  was  not  only  last  night  that 
we  felt  it.  We  have  been  in  this  house  for  three  weeks  now,  and 
ever  since  we  entered  it  we — you  and  I  that  is  to  say — have  been 
haunted,  yes,  that  is  the  word,  haunted  by  an  invisible  presence, 
and  why? — that  is  what  I  want  to  know." 

The  Rector  remained  silent  for  a  moment.  His  nocturnal 
experiences  had  differed  from  his  daughter's  in  this  respect,  that 
he  was  possessed  all  the  time  by  the  conviction  that  the  presence 
in  his  room  desired  something  at  his  hands.  There  had  been  a 
compelling  force  about  it  which  had  completely  banished  sleep, 
and  this  was  by  no  means  the  first  or  second  visitation  of  the 
kind. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  you  that  something  is  required 
of  us,"  he  said  at  last,  "  but  I  cannot  imagine  what  it  can  be,  or 
why  either  of  us  should  be  selected  as  likely  to  gratify  whoever 
or  whatever  it  is." 

"  Oh,  that  is  easily  explained,"  returned  Sybil.  She  got  off 
the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  crossing  over  to  the  window  gazed 
dreamily  out  at  the  green  smoothness  of  the  lawn.  "  If  there 
is  anything  in  this  house  or  church,  and  I  feel  it  more  strongly 
there,  that  wants  anything,  it  wouldn't  be  likely  to  go  near  mother. 
She  would  pay  as  little  attention  to  it  as  she  would  to  a  mouse, 
less  in  fact  than  in  the  case  of  a  mouse,  and  the — the  influence, 
I  don't  know  what  to  call  it,  knows  that  we  shall  at  any  rate 
feel  it." 

"  You  say  you  feel  it  in  the  church  ?  "  questioned  her  father. 
"  That  is  strange,  very  strange,  it  would  almost  seem — " 

"  Dad !  "  interrupted  Sybil,  "  I  have  got  an  idea — let  us  have 
the  house  blessed  like  Roman  Catholics  do,  perhaps  it  can't  rest 
until  something  of  that  sort  has  been  done." 

VOL.  xcvu. — 50 


786  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

"  Blessed !  "  echoed  the  Rector  in  horror.  "  My  dear  Sybil, 
the  Church  of  England  does  not  hold  with  such  superstitious  prac- 
tices, and  besides,"  he  added  naively,  "  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I 
should  know  the  correct  procedure." 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  no  use  for  you  to  do  it,  dad.  It  ought  to  be  a 
priest;  you  see  this  church  was  a  Roman  Catholic  one  once  upon 
a  time,  and  this  house  was  probably  inhabited  by  Romans  too. 
If  it  is  a  ghost  of  that  sort,  it  would  take  more  than  a  clergyman 
to  get  rid  of  it." 

"  My  dear  child,  you  are  expressing  yourself  in  a  very  extra- 
ordinary fashion,  and  while  you  are  in  this  flippant  frame  of 
mind  I  see  no  use  in  continuing  this  discussion.  I  should,  besides, 
be  glad  to  get  on  with  my  letters." 

Sybil  danced  over  to  him,  and  gave  him  a  butterfly  kiss  on  his 
forehead.  "  There,  he  shan't  be  plagued  any  longer."  Then  as 
she  reached  the  door,  she  turned  and  looked  back  at  him.  "  You 
think  it  over,  dad,  and  you  will  find  there  is  something  in  my 
idea." 

The  Rector's  letters  remained  neglected  for  sometime  while 
he  pondered  over  recent  events.  It  was  quite  true  what  his  daughter 
had  said,  both  he  and  she,  and  practically  ever  since  their  arrival  at 
Marshley,  had  been  haunted  by  an  intangible,  indescribable  in- 
fluence which  dogged  their  footsteps  day  and  night.  And  it  was 
especially,  as  Sybil  had  also  remarked,  in  the  church  that 
it  made  itself  felt.  It  was  with  this  thought  in  his  mind  that 
late  in  the  afternoon  he  went  there  by  himself,  and  paced  up  and 
down  the  side  aisle.  It  was  growing  dusk,  and  he  could  hardly 
distinguish  the  glowing  colors  of  the  stained  glass  windows.  One 
of  them,  that  which  was  above  the  communion  table,  was  of  far 
greater  antiquity  than  the  rest.  It  was  a  representation  of  the 
Nativity,  and  he  could  just  make  out  a  glimmer  of  blue  on  the 
Madonna's  mantle.  As  he  stood  peering  up  at  it,  Sybil's  words 
recurred  to  him.  Once  long  ago  this  church  had  belonged  to  the 
ancient  faith,  and  although  he  was  not  a  ritualist,  the  Rector  of 
Marshley,  in  his  secret  soul,  hankered  after  a  more  gorgeous  cere- 
monial, a  fuller  ritual  than  that  which  belonged  to  the  religion 
he  professed.  He  had  an  artist's  eye  for  color,  and  an  intense 
appreciation  for  beauty  in  nature  and  in  art,  and  there  was  very 
little  of  either  in  the  somewhat  dreary  form  of  worship  which  it 
was  his  duty  to  conduct.  As  he  stood  alone  in  the  empty  church 
in  the  twilight,  he  tried  to  reconstruct  his  surroundings,  picture 


I9i3-]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  787 

them  as  they  had  been  in  a  monastic  past.  He  imagined  the  altar 
radiant  with  numerous  lights,  and  the  flashing  of  gems  on  a 
jewelled  monstrance.  He  heard  the  solemn  chanting  of  sonorous 
Latin  words,  and  saw  the  blue  smoke  of  incense  as  the  censer 
was  swung  slowly  to  and  fro.  In  an  instant  it  had  all  become 
real  to  him,  and  it  was  with  a  tremendous  effort  that  he  detached 
himself  from  it,  and  brought  his  thoughts  back  to  the  prosaic  pres- 
ent. As  he  did  so,  he  heard,  apparently  at  his  elbow,  a  sigh,  long 
drawn  out  and  unmistakable,  the  sigh  of  someone  whose  burden 
was  well  nigh  greater  than  he  could  bear.  The  Rector  turned 
round  quickly,  and  stared  into  the  fast  gathering  gloom. 

"  Is  there  anyone  there?  "  he  said  aloud. 

There  was  no  answer.  The  wind  moaned  among  the  cypresses 
in  the  churchyard  outside,  and  the  sudden  cry  of  a  screech  owl,  like 
a  child  in  pain,  came  from  the  belt  of  elm  trees  by  the  river, 
but  as  far  as  he  could  see  he  was  alone.  Then,  all  at  once,  half- 
frightened  by  the  echoing  sound  of  his  own  voice,  he  made  for 
the  heavy  oak  door,  opened  it  and  locked  it  behind  him. 


III. 


Not  even  to  Sybil  did  the  Rector  make  any  comment  regarding 
his  twilight  experiences  in  the  old  church.  He  told  himself — 
though  he  could  not  make  it  sound  convincing  to  his  inner  ego — 
that  it  was  all  imagination,  that  he  and  his  daughter  had  become 
obsessed  with  the  idea  of  an  unseen  but  deeply-felt  influence,  and 
that  the  less  they  discussed  it  between  themselves  the  better.  He 
told  himself  this,  but  it  left  him  unconvinced,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
as  the  weeks  wore  on,  that  the  unexpressed  wishes  of  the  shadowy 
presence,  which  had  sighed  at  his  elbow,  grew  more  and  more 
intense. 

The  feeling  began  to  weigh  upon  Sybil  too,  although  outwardly 
she  was  her  usual  gay,  audacious  self.  And  it  was  noticeable  that 
during  her  frequent  talks  with  her  father,  she  rather  avoided  the 
subject.  One  day,  however,  when  he  and  she  were  returning 
in  the  gloaming  from  a  long  walk,  she  broached  the  matter  of  her 
own  accord. 

"  Have  you  ever  examined  any  of  those  old  documents  in  the 
vestry,  dad?  I  expect  they  would  be  awfully  interesting,  and," 
she  hesitated,  and  glanced  up  at  him  with  a  roguish  smile  in  her 


;88  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

eyes,  "  they  might  possibly  throw  some  light  on  our  invisible 
friends !  " 

The  Rector  started.  It  was  a  new  light  to  him  at  any  rate. 
"  Why,  yes,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  never  occurred  to  me,  so  it 
might." 

"  Because  you  see,  dad,  there  is  getting  to  be  just  a  little  too 
much  of  them  even  for  my  taste,  and  you  know  I  love  everything 
connected  with  spooks." 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  remarked  the  Rector  pathetically, 
"  no  one  in  the  neighborhood  seems  to  consider  that  the  house  is 
haunted.  I  have  made  several  inquiries  lately — guarded  ones  of 
course — in  that  direction,  but  have  elicited  nothing  in  the  shape 
of  what  one  might  call  spiritual  information.  Even  old  Patty 
Clack  has  nothing  to  say  on  the  subject,  and  she  would  say  it 
fast  enough  if  she  had." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  And  I  don't  think  that  any  consideration  for 
our  nerves  would  stop  her  if  she  had  a  spicy  story  to  tell.  But," 
Sybil  paused  with  an  unusually  serious  expression  on  her  piquant 
features,  "  in  this  case  I  don't  think  that  it  is  the  house  that  is 
haunted  but  us !  " 

"But  why,  in  heaven's  name?"  broke  out  the  Rector  for- 
getting his  self-imposed  vow  of  reticence,  "  such  a  thing  has  never 
happened  to  us  before ;  we  were  all  right  at  Mapperley." 

"  That  was  not  a  pre-Re formation  church,"  returned  Sybil  with 
the  air  of  an  oracle.  "  I  have  been  reading  up  some  old  history 
books  lately  and — "  she  paused,  broke  off  abruptly.  "  Well,  dad, 
you  take  my  tip  and  examine  those  documents,  and  now  we  will  try 
to  forget  all  about  it." 

For  the  remainder  of  their  walk  she  laughed  and  chatted  in 
her  usual  lively  vein,  and  when  they  caught  sight  of  the  lighted 
windows  of  the  ivy-covered  rectory  gleaming  redly  through  the 
dusk,  she  took  hold  of  her  father's  arm. 

"  I  say,  dad,  what  do  you  think  mummie  would  say  if  we 
broke  to  her  the  fact  that  her  husband  and  daughter  were  haunted?" 

"  Sybil,  my  child,"  exclaimed  the  Rector  nervously,  "  I  must 
really  beg  of  you —  " 

"  Oh,  all  right,  dad,  I  am  on,  we  won't  break  it  to  her."  And 
with  a  glance  at  her  father's  disturbed  countenance,  she  gave  way 
to  a  fit  of  irrepressible  laughter. 

The  following  afternoon  the  Rector  went  off  by  himself  to  the 
vestry,  and  for  nearly  an  hour  pored  over  the  old  documents  in  the 


1913-]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  789 

muniment  chest.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  he  was  not  very 
much  wiser  than  when  he  began,  for  the  deciphering  of  the  abbre- 
viated script  was  a  task  beyond  his  powers.  There  was  one  in 
particular  which  interested  him  more  than  the  others,  and  he  finally 
brought  it  away  with  him,  and  took  it  to  his  study  to  examine 
through  a  magnifying  glass.  But  although  he  was  a  very  fair 
Latin  scholar,  he  could  make  very  little  out  of  the  ancient  black 
lettering  before  him.  A  name,  that  of  a  Sir  Fulke  de  Heron, 
occurred  in  it  frequently,  but  in  what  connection  was  a  riddle  which 
he  found  himself  totally  unable  to  solve,  so  with  a  sigh  of  baffled 
curiosity  he  took  it  back  to  its  former  place.  The  November  after- 
noon was  closing  in  as  he  re-entered  the  church,  but  as  he  opened 
the  oaken  door  he  could  just  distinguish  a  faint  shadowy  form  pass 
into  the  vestry.  He  stopped  short,  his  heart  beating  rapidly,  and 
then  pulling  himself  together  made  his  way  quickly  up  the  nave. 

"  It  might  have  been  Sybil,"  he  murmured  half-aloud,  "  she 
has  a  light  gray  dress  on,  and  it's  getting  too  dark  to  make  anything 
out  clearly."  And  then  he  entered  the  vestry,  and  was  in  reality 
not  at  all  surprised  to  find  it  empty.  He  replaced  the  document 
with  somewhat  shaking  fingers,  glancing  once  or  twice  nervously 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  did  so,  and  then  leaving  the  vestry  shut  the 
door  behind  him.  As  he  walked  down  the  side  aisle  rather  quicker 
than  usual,  he  caught  sight  of  a  figure  in  one  of  the  lower  pews, 
which  started  up  on  his  approach. 

"  It's  all  right,  dad,  don't  be  dicky,  it's  only  me,"  said  Sybil, 
and  the  Rector  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Did  I  see  you  go  into  the  vestry  just  now?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  I  came  in  this  minute  while  you  were  there ;  what  is  the 
matter,  you  look — anyhow — have  you — have  you  seen  anything?  " 

"  Nothing  that  I  could  swear  to,"  returned  the  Rector  in  a 
guarded  manner. 

"  But  you  thought  you  did?  "  said  Sybil  eagerly.  "  Oh,  dad, 
tell  me  all  about  it,  do." 

"  It  was  imagination,  I  am  convinced  it  was  imagination ;  our 
eyes  play  odd  tricks  with  us  in  the  dusk,  but  I  thought  I  saw 
something  gray  flit  into  the  vestry,  and — and  I  concluded  it  must 
be  you." 

"  Humph,"  murmured  Sybil  reflectively,  "  our  friend  is  be- 
ginning to  materialize  itself  then.  Dad,"  she  went  on  with  a 
sudden  change  of  tone,  "  have  you  been  looking  at  those  docu- 
ments?" 


790  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

"  Yes,  and  I  can  make  nothing  of  them ;  they  are  written  in 
the  old  style  Latin,  which  I  am  not  sufficiently  expert  to  under- 
stand." 

"  Oh,  what  a  jolly  nuisance.  I  wish  we  could  get  hold  of  an 
expert.  Don't  wait  for  me,  dad,  if  you  want  to  go,  I — I  came  here 
to — "  she  paused  and  laughed  a  little  to  herself. 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you  here,  Sybil,"  remarked  the  Rector 
with  unusual  firmness.  "  It  will  do  you  no  good  to  sit  mooning 
here  in  the  dark,  come  home  with  me  at  once."  And  the  un- 
expectedness of  his  manner  so  impressed  Sybil  that  she  obeyed. 

Next  Sunday,  the  Rector  of  Marshley  preached  a  sermon  that 
somewhat  astonished  his  hearers,  as  varying  from  the  customary 
lines  of  his  discourse.  He  dwelt  upon  the  supernatural  influences 
which  surround  the  human  race,  he  touched  upon  the  gossamer- 
like  texture  of  the  veil  which  divides  the  spiritual  from  the  natural 
world,  and  wound  up  by  exhorting  the  congregation  to  cultivate 
the  spiritual  side  of  their  nature,  and  not  to  scoff  at  the  existence 
of  mysteries  which  they  could  not  understand.  He  spoke  well 
and^  eloquently,  his  dreamy  eyes  alight,  and  Sybil  listened  with  a 
proprietary  glow  at  her  heart. 

"  It  seemed  to  me,  James,"  remarked  Mrs.  Broughton,  as  she 
carved  cold  beef  at  the  early  dinner,  "  that  there  was  a  decidedly 
Popish  tone  about  your  sermon  this  morning,  and  what  wasn't 
Popish  was  nonsensical.  Thin  veils  indeed,  I  suppose  you  were 
thinking  of  your  beloved  ghosts,  but  I  don't  consider  that  it  is  the 
right  thing  for  the  Rector  of  a  parish  to  encourage  his  parish- 
ioners in  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I  regret  that  my  sermon  did  not  please  you,  my  dear,"  re- 
turned the  Rector  mildly,  "  but  I  was  not  aware  it  had  a  Romish 
tendency,  and  I  cannot  recall  any  mention  of  ghosts." 

"  I  thought  the  sermon  was  top  hole,  dad,"  put  in  Sybil  vehe- 
mently, "  but  I  expect  mummie,"  she  went  on  turning  to  her  mother 
with  an  ingratiating  smile,  "  it  was  just  a  tiny  wee  bit  over  your 
head,  and  that  was  what  made  you  think  dad  was  talking  through 
his  hat." 

"  I  consider  myself  capable  of  understanding  any  of  your 
father's  sermons,  and  I  cannot  conceive  where  you  get  your  extra- 
ordinary expressions.  James,  I  should  be  obliged  for  the  horse 
radish  sauce." 


1913.]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  79* 

IV. 

One  morning,  about  a  week  before  Christmas,  Mrs.  Broughton 
came  into  her  husband's  study  with  an  open  letter  in  her  hand. 
"  Sir  Guy  Darrell  wants  to  come  over  and  see  the  church,  so  I  have 
asked  him  to  lunch  to-morrow." 

The  Rector  looked  up  blankly  from  his  paper.  "  Who  is  Sir 
Guy  Darrell,  and  why  should  he  be  invited  to  lunch?  " 

"  Really,  James,"  said  his  wife  briskly,  "  you  grow  more 
mooney  every  day,  and  Sybil  is  as  bad.  I  went  to  look  for  her 
just  now,  and  she  said  she  had  been  in  the  church,  and  when  I  asked 
her  what  for,  said  she  wanted  to  think  there.  Think!  I  never 
heard  such  rubbish  in  my  life.  Why  don't  you  lower  your  blinds, 
James,  the  sun  will  spoil  the  carpet,  and  it  really  is  quite  sunny 
to-day." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  certainly,  as  you  like,  but — er — when  are 
we  coming  to  Sir  Guy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  coming  to  him  if  you  give  me  time.  What  was  I 
saying?  Oh,  yes,  he  is  stopping  with  the  Frasers,  and  she  wrote 
and  asked  if  he  might  come.  It  appears  some  of  his  ancestors 
used  to  live  here  or  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  and  he  wants 
to  look  up  something  in  the  registers;  he  is  writing  a  book  or 
something  of  the  sort.  I  want  to  be  civil  to  the  Frasers,  so  I  asked 
him  to  lunch,  and  look  at  things  leisurely.  He  is  young,  ap- 
parently, and  well  off,  and — "  she  paused  and  played  with  the  tassel 
of  the  blind. 

"  You  thought  he  sounded  eligible  for  Sybil,"  put  in  the 
Rector  with  unusual  perspicacity  where  his  wife  was  concerned. 
"  Well,  well,  my  little  maid  must  choose  for  herself  if  she  marries." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  need  be  at  all  alarmed  on  that  score," 
remarked  Mrs.  Broughton,  with  dignity  as  she  walked  to  the  door. 
"  Sybil  is  not  in  the  least  likely  to  allow  herself  to  be  guided 
in  the  matter,  even  by  you."  And  with  that  parting  shot,  aimed 
in  return  for  his  having  fathomed  the  motives  of  her  unwonted 
civility  to  a  stranger,  she  disappeared. 

But  it  failed  in  its  effect,  for  one  idea  was  filling  the  Rector's 
mind  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else.  Sir  Guy  might  be  able 
to  throw  some  light  on  the  meaning  of  the  old  Latin  documents, 
and  it  was  on  this  account,  and  not  as  a  possible  suitor  for  Sybil, 
that  he  was  prepared  to  accord  him  a  welcome.  The  same  idea 
had  occurred  to  his  daughter,  and  as  soon  as  her  mother  had  told 


792  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

her  of  the  expected  visitor,  she  went  to  communicate  it  to  the 
Rector. 

"  This  man,  dad,  mother  has  told  you  I  suppose?  She  seems 
quite  keen  perky  about  it,  heaven  knows  why.  He  may  under- 
stand old  Latin,  he  is  a  Roman  Catholic  you  know/' 

The  Rector  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "  A  Roman  Catholic!" 
he  echoed.  "  How  do  you  know  ?  Your  mother  said  nothing 
about  it;  is  she  aware  of  the  fact?" 

"  Oh,  probably  not;  she  would  not  be  so  keen  about  him  if  she 
were,  but  it's  true.  Dick  Fraser  was  telling  me  about  him  when 
we  were  playing  golf  on  Thursday.  His  family,  Sir  Guy's  I  mean, 
have  always  been  Romans,  and  he  is  related  somehow  to  the  people 
whom  Marshley  Court  belonged  to  centuries  ago;  not  this  present 
lot.  He  goes  in  for  archaeology  and  ancient  legends,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  so  these  old  documents  will  be  nuts  to  him." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  your  mother  does  not  realize  that  the 
young  man  is  a  Romanist,"  said  the  Rector,  his  interest  in  the 
documents  momentarily  banished  by  this  new  element  in  the  case. 
"  In  fact — she — er — well,  I  gathered  so  from  her  remarks." 

"  Oh,  what  does  it  matter?  If  he  can  tell  us  what  we  want 
to  know  he  may  be  a  Mohammedan  for  all  I  care ;  we  have  no  other 
use  for  him  you  know.  Now  hurry  up  with  your  letters,  and  we 
will  go  down  to  the  links  for  an  hour  before  lunch." 

Mrs.  Broughton  had  received  the  news  of  her  expected  guest's 
religion — carefully  broken  to  her  by  her  husband — with  unusual 
resignation,  remarking  that  as  the  poor  fellow  was  born  in  error, 
he  was  really  not  so  much  to  blame,  and  on  his  arrival  the  fol- 
lowing day,  she  greeted  him  with  unwonted  cordiality.  He  was  a 
tall,  well-built  man  of  thirty-one  or  two,  clean  shaven,  with  a  pair 
of  observant  blue  eyes,  which  allowed  nothing  to  escape  them,  and 
a  firmly-cut  mouth  and  chin.  There  was  a  virile  magnetism  about 
him,  which  immediately  attracted  the  Rector,  and  Sybil,  mentally 
comparing  him  with  Dick  Fraser  and  her  other  male  acquaintances 
in  the  neighborhood,  decided  that  the  comparison  was  not  to  their 
advantage.  The  conversation  at  luncheon  turned  upon  archaeology 
and  the  interest  inseparable  from  ancient  buildings,  and  when  the 
coffee  had  made  its  appearance,  the  Rector  suggested  an  adjourn- 
ment to  the  church.  Sybil  cast  a  beseeching  look  at  him,  and  he 
smiled  back  at  her  in  a  comprehending  manner. 

;<  You  had  better  come  with  us.  She  is  very  keen  about  all  this 
sort  of  thing,"  he  added  turning  to  his  guest. 


1913.]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  793 

Guy  DarreH's  eyes  rested  searchingly  on  the  bright  expressive 
face  opposite  to  him.  "  Really,"  he  remarked,  "  I  should  like 
to  enlist  your  services,  Miss  Broughton.  I  am  sure  you  could  put 
me  up  to  a  lot  about  this  place." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know,"  returned  Sybil,  "  and  I  expect," 
with  a  significant  side  glance  at  her  father,  "  that  you  will  be  able 
to  enlighten  us  on  one  or  two  points." 

Mrs.  Broughton  refused  to  accompany  them  to  the  church,  but 
watched  them  with  some  complacency  as  they  walked  to  the  gate. 
"  It  was  rather  smart  of  James  to  suggest  that  Sybil  should  go 
too;  I  should  not  have  credited  him  with  so  much  sense.  As  for 
the  man's  religion,  it's  a  pity  of  course,  but  I  daresay  he  is  not 
very  set  on  it.  It  seems  the  fashion  with  Romanists  to  be  a 
little  lax  nowadays,  and  as  the  son-in-law  of  a  Rector  he  would 
naturally  realize  that  he  must  give  it  up." 

Meanwhile  the  unconscious  object  of  her  thought  was  waxing 
enthusiastic  over  the  beauty  of  the  old  Norman  edifice,  and  the 
exquisite  carving  of  the  oaken  pulpit. 

"Can  you  read  old  Latin?"  inquired  the  Rector  as  he  led 
the  way  through  the  low  narrow  door  into  the  vestry. 

"  Well,  yes,  to  a  certain  extent,"  answered  Guy.  "  I  have  been 
obliged  to  make  a  special  study  of  it  on  account  of — "  He  paused 
leaving  his  sentence  unfinished.  "  Surely,  he  exclaimed,  "  that  is 
a  very  old  specimen  of  stained  glass  in  that  window.  I  see  the  de 
Heron's  crest?" 

The  Rector  started.  "  De  Heron,  why  that  was  the  name  in 
the—" 

"  Who  are  the  de  Herons,  Sir  Guy?  "  broke  in  Sybil  eagerly, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  heron  in  the  stained  glass  above  her,  a  relic 
of  very  ancient  times. 

"  The  people  who  owned  Marshley  Court  before  the  Reforma- 
tion. They  were  connected  with  my  ancestors,  and  Sir  Fulke, 
I  believe,  was  buried  in  a  side  chapel  of  this  church.  Have  you 
ever  found  any  traces  of  his  tomb  ?  "  he  went  on  turning  to  the 
Rector. 

"  No,  I  had  no  idea  of  it,"  he  murmured.  He  felt,  though 
he  could  not  have  explained  why,  that  he  was  on  the  brink  of  an 
important  discovery,  and  the  invisible  presence  seemed  at  the 
moment  nearer  to  him  than  usual.  He  glanced  at  Sybil,  and 
noticed  that  she,  too,  seemed  curiously  moved ;  her  cheeks  had  lost 
their  color,  and  her  eyes  were  shining. 


794  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

"  Come  and  look  at  these  documents,"  he  said  hurriedly,  and 
after  a  little  search  he  produced  the  one  in  which  the  name  of  Sir 
Fulke  figured  so  prominently,  and  handed  it  to  Guy.  For  a  few 
moments  he  studied  it  in  silence.  Sybil  gave  a  little  shiver,  and 
creeping  closer  to  her  father  laid  her  fingers  on  his  arm.  The 
mysterious  influence  was  weighing  upon  her  as  it  had  never  done 
before,  and  she  felt  as  if  she  were  surrounded  by  unseen  witnesses. 
She  stared  nervously  when  Sir  Guy  spoke. 

"  This  is  apparently,"  he  said,  "  a  deed  of  gift  of  a  consider- 
able sum  of  money  left  by  Sir  Fulke  de  Heron  in  perpetuity  to  this 
church,  in  order  that  Masses  might  be  said  for  the  repose  of  his 
soul  and  those  of  his  descendants." 

"  And  ever  since  the  Reformation,"  put  in  Sybil  quickly,  "  there 
have  been  no  Masses  said  for  him  here." 

"  Precisely,  the  Reformation  robbed  him  and  his  descendants 
of  them,  and  the  money  thus  bequeathed  has  gone  into  the  pockets 
of  Anglican — "  He  stopped  short  and  laughed  in  an  apologetic 
fashion.  "  I  beg  pardon,"  he  added,  "  I — er — I  did  not  realize 
what  I  was  saying,  but  it  is  a  subject  upon  which  I  have  always 
felt  very  strongly;  it — it  seems  so  beastly  unfair,  don't  you  know." 

"  It  does,"  returned  the  Rector  slowly.  "  Now  that  you  have 
mentioned  it,  it  does  seem  most  unfair."  He  returned  the  docu- 
ment to  its  place  in  silence,  while  Sybil  watched  him  earnestly,  but 
made  no  further  comment.  They  left  the  church  in  silence,  and 
when  they  reached  the  lych  gate,  the  Rector  paused  and  faced  his 
companion. 

"  Is  there  no  way,"  he  began,  "  it  sounds  an  unbusiness-like 
proposition,  but  then  as  my  wife  would  tell  you,  I  am  not  a  business 
man — is  there  no  way  in  which  restitution  could  be  made?  For 
instance,  could  not  the  money  be  restored  to  Sir  Fulke's  descendants, 
to  be  made  use  of  as  they  consider  fit?  " 

Guy  shook  his  head.  "  The  family  is  extinct,  has  been  for 
over  a  hundred  years,  and  even  so,  his  living  descendants  would 
have  no  claim  on  the  money.  It  was  left  as  a  foundation  of 
Masses,  you  see,  for  the  dead,  and  the  only  way  in  which  restitu- 
tion could  be  made  to  them  would  be  by  having  the  Masses  said, 
which  is  now — er — not  exactly  feasible.  I  am  awfully  sorry  to 
have  upset  you,"  he  added,  struck  by  the  ashy  gray  ness  of  the 
Rector's  face,  "  and  if  it  is  any  comfort  to  you,  I  can  assure  you 
that  this  is  by  no  means  an  isolated  case.  There  are  a  large 
number  of  old  churches  throughout  England  endowed  by  Catholics, 


1913-]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  795 

and  containing  similar  deeds  to  this  one  of  Sir  Fulke's.  You  have 
appropriated  our  cathedrals  and  our  churches,  and  also — though  I 
really  believe  that  a  good  many  of  you  do  not  realize  it — our 
money  too." 

The  Rector  sighed.  "  You  are  right,"  he  said ;  "  I  at  any  rate, 
had  not  realized  it,  and  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  opening  my  eyes." 

"  Do  you  think  they  know  ?  "  asked  Sybil,  suddenly  as  they 
reached  the  Rectory. 

Her  father  had  gone  in,  and  she  and  Guy  were  standing 
together  in  the  porch. 

"  They  ? — who  ?  "  asked  Guy  with  a  smile.  He  was  feeling 
rather  compunctious  for  the  evident  distress  he  had  caused  to  both 
father  and  daughter,  and  would  have  liked  to  bring  back  the  laughter 
to  the  girl's  troubled  eyes. 

"  Why  the  dead ;  do  they  know  that  the  Masses  haven't  been 
said  for  them,  and  could  they — is  it  possible,  do  you  think,  that  they 
might  return  to  find  out  ?  " 

"  Well,  they  would  know  probably,  because  they  might  be 
detained  in  Purgatory  until  the  Masses  had  been  said  for  their 
release;  that  would  certainly  rub  in  the  knowledge  pretty  sharply. 
As  for  their  returning — well,  of  course,  the  general  idea  is  that 
the  dead  do  not  return,  but  my  views  on  the  subject  are  rather 
peculiar  ones,  so  perhaps  I  had  better  keep  them  to  myself." 

"  But  so  are  mine,"  returned  Sybil  promptly.  And  then, 
urged  on  by  some  undefinable  impulse,  she  told  him  of  the  invisible 
presence  which  had  haunted  herself  and  the  Rector  at  all  times  and 
seasons,  but  more  especially  in  the  church  and  vestry.  Guy  listened 
in  silence.  They  were  pacing  up  and  down  the  rose  walk  by  the 
old  sundial,  and  the  last  rosy  glow  of  a  stormy  sunset  was  fading 
from  the  sky. 

"  Do  you  think  it  really  could  have  been  Sir  Fulke?"  asked 
Sybil  when  her  story  was  finished. 

"  Well,"  returned  Guy  thoughtfully,  "  one  hears  of  such 
things,  and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  disbelieves  them,  but  under 
these  exceptional  circumstances,  I  personally  am  inclined  to  think 
that  it  may  be  Sir  Fulke  de  Heron  who  is  impressing  himself  so 
strongly  upon  you  and  your  father,  both  of  you  being  extra- 
ordinarily sensitive  to  supernatural  influences." 

Sybil  nodded.  "  Yes,  we  are ;  we  always  have  been,  and 
mother  thinks  it  all  rot." 

"  There  is  this  also,"  went  on  Guy,  "  neither  of  you  knew 


796  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

the  story,  you  had  no  idea  that  money  had  been  left  for  a  founda- 
tion of  Masses,  so  there  was  no  suggestion  at  work." 

"  No,  that  notion  never  entered  our  heads.  All  we  knew 
was  that  somebody  wanted  us  to  do  something,  and  father  has  felt 
it  more  frequently,  and  I  fancy  more  strongly,  than  I  have,  and 
that—" 

"  Sybil,  bring  Sir  Guy  in  to  tea,"  called  Mrs.  Broughton 
from  the  drawing-room  window,  and  it  was  with  the  feeling  of 
being  fast  friends  instead  of  merely  the  acquaintances  of  a  day 
that  Guy  Darrell  and  the  Rector's  daughter  entered  the  house. 

Dinner  that  evening  was  a  very  silent  function.  James 
Broughton  was  wrapped  in  a  brown  study,  from  which  not  even 
the  gibes  of  his  wife  could  rouse  him,  and  Sybil  contributed  but 
little  to  the  conversation,  which  gradually  became  a  monologue 
delivered  by  Mrs.  Broughton  in  praise  of  their  late  visitor.  Later 
on  Sybil  made  her  escape  from  the  drawing-room  and 
joined  the  Rector  in  his  study,  where  he  had  retired  on  the  plea 
of  preparing  his  sermon.  He  was  seated  at  his  writing  table, 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  and  she  stood  behind  him  with 
her  arm  on  his  shoulder. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  dad  ?  " 

He  raised  his  face,  and  she  noticed  how  white  and  drawn 
it  looked  under  the  electric  light.  "  God  knows !  "  he  answered, 
"  that  is  what  I  have  been  thinking  of  ever  since  that  young  man 
left  us — what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  It  was  a  question  to  which  Sybil 
could  make  no  satisfactory  reply. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  can  do,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Unless,  of 
course — oh,  but  that  would  be  impossible." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Sybil?  If  you  have  ideas  on  the  subject 
at  all,  I  must  beg  you  to  communicate  them  to  me." 

"  Well,  dad,  what  I  thought  was  that  you  might  ask  some 
Roman  Catholic  priest  to  say  a  certain  number  of  Masses  for 
Sir  Fulke's  soul,  as  that  is  apparently  what  he  wants,  and  then  he 
might  leave  us  alone,  but  I  suppose  as  a  Rector  of  the  Church  of 
England  you  could  hardly  do  that.  Besides  you  couldn't  tell  the 
priest  you  were  haunted,  he  would  think  you  were  dotty,  and — no, 
I  don't  see  what  you  can  do  unless,"  she  paused  and  her  eyes 
lit  up. 

"  Well,  unless,  go  on  Sybil,"  put  in  the  Rector  sharply. 

((  Well,  unless  you  resigned  your  living,  and  became  a  Roman 
yourself — there!  that's  what  I  meant,  you  would  have  it.  Then 


1913-]  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  797 

you  could  devote  part  of  your  income  to  having  Masses  said  for 
the  de  Herons,  and  it  is  the  only  way  I  can  see  in  which  you  could 
make  a  real  restitution." 

The  Rector  looked  at  her  with  a  dazed  expression  in  his 
dreamy  eyes.  "  Sybil,  have  you  entirely  taken  leave  of  your  senses  ? 
I,  the  Rector  of  Marshley,  become  a  Roman  Catholic!  What — 
what — "  he  stopped  short,  and  his  daughter  finished  his  sentence 
for  him. 

"What  would  mother  say?  Yes,  I  know,  that  is  where  the 
greatest  difficulty  would  come  in,  and  there  she  is  calling  me  now, 
I  must  run."  She  left  him,  and  the  Rector,  after  glancing  un- 
certainly at  the  blank  sheets  of  sermon  paper  before  him,  sighed 
heavily  and  let  his  face  fall  again  into  his  hands. 


V. 

"  There  has  been  quite  an  excitement  in  our  part  of  the  world 
lately,"  remarked  Dick  Eraser.  "  What  will  you  drink,  Darrell, 
whiskey  and  soda  ?  " 

"Thanks.     And  the  excitement  is?" 

It  was  a  warm  night  in  June  and  Dick  Fraser  and  Guy 
Darrell  were  dining  together  at  the  Trocadero,  the  latter  having 
recently  returned  from  Italy. 

"  Well,  you  would  never  guess  it,  though  you  have  met  the 
parties  concerned.  Do  you  remember  that  mooney  old  Rector 
with  a  pretty  daughter  and  an  overpowering  better  half?  You 
lunched  with  them  I  believe  when  you  were  with  us  in  the  autumn." 

The  somewhat-bored  expression  on  Guy's  features  was  imme- 
diately replaced  by  one  of  keen  interest.  "  Yes,  rather,  I  remem- 
ber them  all  quite  well.  What  have  they  done?" 

"  Well,  the  Rector  has  unfrocked  himself,  or  whatever  you  call 
it.  Resigned  his  living,  and  a  jolly  fat  one  it  was  too,  refused  to 
accept  another,  and  has  gone  to  live  abroad  somewhere.  In  some 
fusty  old  Belgian  town  I  fancy,  at  least  he  and  Sybil  have,  the 
Rectoress  I  am  told  refused  to  accompany  them,  so  there  is  a 
parting  of  the  ways." 

"  But  why?  "  asked  Guy  eagerly.     "  What  made  him  do  it?  " 

"  That  is  what  everybody  is  asking.  There  is  a  rumor  going 
about  that  the  Rectory  was  haunted,  but  of  course  that  is  all  bun- 
kum. Anyway  he  and  Sybil  have  taken  some  crotchet  into  their 
heads  and  sloped,  and  it's  a  great  pity  as  far  as  she  is  concerned." 


798  THE  RECTOR'S  RESTITUTION  [Sept., 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  have  gone  ?  "  inquired  Guy.  He 
had  already  solved  the  word  of  the  enigma  in  a  manner  which 
gave  him  the  keenest  satisfaction.  "  He  was  a  white  man  after 
all,  that  dreamy  old  parson,"  he  reflected,  "  but  it  is  I  who  am 
responsible  for  his  uprooting!  I  wonder  whether  his  daughter 
blames  me." 

"  I  can't  remember  the  name  of  the  place,"  returned  Dick. 
"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for  ?  " 

"Oh,  idle  curiosity,"  said  Guy  lightly.  "Why  Belgium? 
He  has  not  become  a  Catholic,  I  suppose?" 

Dick  stared  at  him  across  the  little  table.  "  Why  in  the  world 
should  he?  I  never  heard  he  had  any  leanings  that  way.  Didn't 
go  in  for  fal  lals  in  his  services  or  anything  of  that  kind,  and  yet — 
Jove!  it  never  occurred  to  me,  perhaps  that  is  the  real  explanation 
of  the  matter.  And  Sybil,  too,"  he  went  on,  with  a  disturbed  look 
on  his  boyish  face,  "  she  was  a  jolly  little  girl,  but  of  course  if  that 
is  the  case — "  He  paused,  and  began  absently  to  trace  a  pattern 
on  the  cloth  with  the  prongs  of  a  fork.  "  Oh,  it  was  only  an  idea 
of  mine,"  remarked  Guy  carelessly.  "  I  daresay  there  is  nothing 
in  it,  but  he  must  have  been  impelled  by  some  very  strong  motive. 
Well,  Fraser,  I  must  be  off  now.  I  promised  the  mater  I  would 
call  for  her  at  ten,  and  take  her  to  this  affair  at  Devonshire  House." 

Guy  Darrell  hailed  a  taxi,  and  was  driven  swiftly  through  the 
brilliantly-lighted  London  streets,  but  his  mental  vision  saw  once 
more  the  ray  of  winter  sunshine  which  had  lit  up  the  crest  of  the 
de  Herons  one  November  afternoon. 


AN  APPEAL. 

BY    ELEANOR    DOWNING. 

MEN  of  to-day,  whose  footsteps  echoing 
Pass  down  the  aisles  of  time  with  hollow  tread, 

You   who  build  upward,  but  whose  voices   ring 
With  mocking  mirthlessness,  what  Hope  hath  fled 

Down  vistaed  years  and  left  you  sorrowing, 

Left  you  no  dreams  to  dream,  no  songs  to  sing, 
No  eyes  to  wonder  with,  or  souls  to  dread? 

Turn  ye  aside  a  moment;  have  ye  thought 
That  those  who  have  possessed  the  earth  'ere  us, 

A  thousand  generations  that  have  fought 
With  fevered  breath  that  ye  might  conquer  thus, — 

Do  ye  not  know  that  they  have  reared  and  wrought 

With  that  before  them  which  your  hands  have  sought 
To  desecrate,  the  Vision  Luminous? 

There  was  a  time  when  pierceless  mystery 
Lapt  earth  in  its  embrace,  when  stream  and  clod, 

And  the  vast  mountains  and  the  wailing  sea 
Were  strange  and  wonderful,  and  only  God 

Was  known  and  near,  and  His  eternity, 

Enfolding  time  and  space,  wrapt  tranquilly 
The  borders  of  the  narrow  paths   men  trod. 

That  was  the  time  when  rose  the  Gothic  spire 
To  slender-shafted  glory,  when  the  earth 

Thrilled  with  the  melody  of  Dante's  lyre; 
When  all  the  dream  and  wonder  leaping  forth 

In  aspiration,  touched  with  sacred  fire, 

Burst  from  Aquinas'  lips,  and  rising  higher 
Kindled  the  Heavens  with  its  holy  mirth. 

But  you  are  sad,  you  Toilers  of  to-day, 
You  that  cry  out,  "  Behold  the  ceaseless  stream 

Of  the  earth's  progress  bears  us  on  its  way; 
Gone  is  the  vision,  banished  is  the  gleam, 

For  we  have  found  that  earth  is  common  clay." 

Say,  have  you  aught  to  show  as   fair  as  they, 
Or  found  one  truth  more  real  than  was  their  dream? 


8oo  AN  APPEAL  [Sept., 

Yea,  brethren,  your  eyes  are   full  of  care, 
Your  shoulders  bowed  with  labor,  and  your  brow 

Bent  earthward.     Is  it  then  so  fair, 
The  brown  dull  earth  ye  lift  with  spade  and  plough? 

So  sweet  the  rhythmic  measure  of  the  share 

That  ye  must  needs  forget  the  heavens  wear 
A  state  more  kingly  than  the  clods  below? 

There  was  a  time  when  man  was  king  or  clown; 

When  some  lay  fasting  in  the  solitude 
Of  sandy  wastes,  and  some  for  earth's  renown 

Emperilled   hope,   and  yet  in  brotherhood 
Might  all  clasp  hands,  because  they  bowed  them  down, 
Helmet,  and  tonsured  head,  and  royal  crown, 

In  worship  of  a  Higher  Kinglihood. 

That  was  the  time  when  men  were  glad  and  strong, 
When  all  their  hearts  leapt  forth  to  ban  or  bless, 

When  love  and  wrath  burnt  red,  and  like  a  song 
Their  worship  sanctified  the  wilderness; 

Yet  were  both  king  and  serf,  the  weak  or  strong, 

Quick  to  confess  the  measure  of  their  wrong, 
Because  they  owned  their  common  sinfulness. 

But   you   who   lift   a   puzzle-strained   brow, 

Who  know  not  if  the  sky  be  gray  or  blue, 
You  who  forgive  because  you  say  you  know 

Virtue  nor  vice,  nor  falseness  from  the  true, 
You  who  would  say,  "  Because  we  know  not,  lo, 
There  is  nor  sin  nor  wickedness  below " — 

Can  you  forgive  as  they  who  sinned  and  knew? 

Mourners  with  haggard  eyes  and  garb  of  gray, 
Dust  on  your  heads  and  dust  beneath  your  feet, 

You  who  despise  the  world  of  yesterday, 
You  who  go  wailing  for  to-day's  defeat, 

Have  you,  with  grieving,  done  as  much  as  they, 

Who,  looking  down,  have  found  that  earth  was  gay, 
And  looking  up  have  found  the  heavens  sweet? 

Ah !  ye  that  say,  "  Behold  a  newer  light 

Hath  risen  o'er  the  earth,  a  keener  sword 
Of  truth  and  love  hath  pierced  the  veil  of  night 

And  showed  us  Man  to  be  the  Living  Word 


1913-]  AN  APPEAL  801 

Whom  all  might  worship,"  have  you  guessed  aright 
Man's  exaltation  to  what  lofty  height 
By  him  who  saith,  "  I  love  thee  in  the  Lord  ? " 

Ye  that  cry  out,  "The  earth  is  full  and  free, 
There  are  no  vows  that  bind,  no  laws  that  tame; 

Beauty  and  Truth,  all  things  that  breathe  and  be, 
Sink  back  into  the  darkness  whence  they  came" — 

Look  ye  within  the  temple-gates  and  see 

A  service  sweeter  than  all  liberty 
To  those  who  tend  the  Lord's  fair  altar-flame. 

For  have  your  gospels,  preached   from  east  to  west, 
Drowned  in  confusion  and  by  Babeled  tongues, 

Lifted  the  burden  from  one  troubled  breast, 
Or  reft,  as  theirs,  the  iron-binding  thongs 

That  knit  the  soul  to  earth ;  have  they  but  blest 

One  weary  heart  with  peace,  one  harm  redressed 
From  out  the  countless  scoring  of  their  "Wrongs?" 

Say,  have  your  promises  and  prophecies 

Lifted  one  poet,  crowned  one  lofty  brow 
With  immortality,  or  have  your  skies 

Opened  to  yield  one  prophet ;  can  you  show 
A  Tuscan  who  looked  forth  with  quiet  eyes 
And  scanned  earth's  mystery  of  mysteries, 

A  Leonardo,  or  an  Angelo? 

ip." 

Then  wake  and  rise !  cast  off  the  tainted  pall 

Of  your  denials  and  your  doubts,  and  give 
The   faith  withheld,  the  love   for  love;   and  all 

The  wondrous  things  for  which  you  blindly  strive 
Shall  be  fulfilled.    But  rend  the  binding  thrall, 
And  like  a  shroud  your  withered  creeds  shall  fall — 

You  shall  look  up,  and  shall  be  glad,  and  live! 

They  hear  me  not.    O  Lord  Whose  bounteousness 
Gives  and  forgives,  and  calls  from  out  the  deep, 

Wilt  Thou  not  hear  the  voice  of  their  distress 
That  cries  against  Thee,  whilst  their  spirits  keep 

Watch  in  the  night  for  Thee?  O  turn  and  bless; 

Lord,  have  Thou  pity  on  their  foolishness, 

And  let  Thy  finger  touch  their  tranced  sleep. 
VOL.  xcvu. — 51 


TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL. 

BY  WILLIAM   VOWLES. 

T  has  been  frequently  said  that  God  plants  His 
choicest  flowers  in  the  enclosed  garden  of  Carmel — 
and  two  beautiful  books  recently  published*  brings 
a  testimony  of  this  truth  very  forcibly  to  our  minds. 
God  creates  saints  in  every  walk  of  life  and  in  every 
age.  In  every  phase  of  civilization  He  sets  aside  certain  souls 
who  shall  serve  Him  with  special  love  and  fidelity.  Such  souls  are 
the  pillars  of  the  universe;  to  them  we  may  apply  most  aptly  those 
words  of  Holy  Scripture  which  say  that  God's  delight  is  to  dwell 
with  the  children  of  men.  Their  vocation  is  primarily  a  contem- 
plative one — they  first  seek  the  kingdom  of  God,  then  having 
labored  at  their  own  sanctification  and  re-established  in  themselves 
all  things  in  Christ,  God  may  or  may  not  permit  the  history  of 
His  dealings  with  their  souls  to  be  revealed  to  others.  Their 
apostolate  is  efficacious  in  proportion  to  the  ascent  of  the  soul,  and 
the  greater  the  height  to  which  they  rise  the  more  practical  they  be- 
come. St.  Paul's  "  All  things  to  all  men  "  was  only  possible  after 
he  had  been  ravished  to  the  third  heaven,  and  the  same  law  applies, 
though  in  a  lesser  degree,  to  any  soul  passing  along  the  road  of 
time  to  eternity,  and  wishing  to  help  his  fellow-travelers  on  the  way. 
Our  own  personal  sanctification  will  always  be  the  measure  of 
our  usefulness,  and  the  lowest  degree  of  purity  of  conscience  and 
progress  in  pure  love  will  be  more  acceptable  to  God  than  all  the 
zeal  for  souls  or  exterior  works  undertaken  for  the  good  of  others. 
The  sacrifice  on  Calvary  was  agreeable  to  God  because  of  the 
perfect  Victim ;  our  Lady's  great  prerogatives  came  to  her  through 
her  sinlessness ;  St.  Peter's  supremacy  was  granted  him  when  he  had 
proved  his  ardent  love;  St.  Paul's  zeal  was  only  effective  after 
he  had  done  penance,  and  the  good  he  did  in  the  Church  was 
measured  by  the  degree  of  his  share  in  the  Passion  of  his  Master. 
In  the  lives  of  all  the  saints  we  can  trace  the  same  mysterious 

*Saur  Therese  of  Lisieux,  the  Little  Flower  of  Jesus.  Edited  by  Rev.  T.  N. 
Taylor.  New  York:  P.  J.  Kenedy  &  Sons,  and  Burns  &  Gates,  London.  Price, 
$2.00. 

The  Praise  of  Glory.  Translated  from  the  French  by  the  Benedictines  of 
Stanbtook.  New  York:  Benziger  Brothers,  and  R.  &  T.  Washbourne,  Ltd., 
London.  Price,  $1.25  net. 


1913-]  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL  803 

dealing.  As  they  advance  in  detachment,  are  freed  from  self 
and  all  things,  a  secret  virtue  goes  forth  from  them,  which  draws 
souls  to  follow  in  the  same  paths  of  perfection  and  peace. 
The  saints  love  silence  and  solitude,  they  "  keep  their  strength  " 
for  the  Lord;  they  know  that  the  noise  of  the  world  drives  away 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  therefore  they  shun  contact  with  it,  and  hide 
their  secrets  from  it  most  carefully.  But  God  Himself  takes  care 
of  their  honor  by  granting  favors  to  others  through  their  inter- 
cession, or  by  placing  them  in  such  conditions  in  this  life  that  there 
is  near  at  hand  a  sister-soul  ready  to  seize  on  any  self-revelation 
or  exterior  sign  of  the  intense  life  and  silence  within. 

It  is  unfortunately  true  that  in  many  cases  the  lives  of  the 
saints  have  been  written  without  the  necessary  reticence  and  dis- 
cernment; the  accessories  of  sanctity  have  been  made  its  distinctive 
marks,  and  the  dangerous  path  of  visions,  ecstasies,  and  miracles 
put  forward  as  the  reason  of  holiness  rather  than  its  unusual 
expression.  To-day  we  have  fallen  to  the  other  extreme:  in  re- 
acting against  the  exaggeration  of  the  past,  authors  of  saints'  lives 
are  inclined  to  fill  their  volumes  with  too  much  erudition,  treat- 
ing us  to  long  discourses  on  hysteria,  psychology,  philosophy,  and 
history ;  while  not  going  to  the  lengths  of  another  school  of  hagio- 
logical  writers,  aptly  called  "  denicheurs  de  saints,"  who  eliminate 
the  supernatural  whenever  they  meet  with  it,  these  do,  however, 
throw  a  certain  distrust  over  the  miraculous  occurrences  which 
frequently  take  place  in  the  lives  of  God's  elect.  On  the  one  hand, 
the  more  human  qualities  of  the  saints  are  thrown  into  the  back- 
ground, and  on  the  other,  divine  grace  is  minimized  and  brought 
to  the  level  of  a  natural  life.  Is  it  not  the  fusion  of  the  strong 
nature  with  the  transforming  power  of  God's  love  that  makes  a 
saint?  God  creates  the  strong  will,  the  ardent  temperament,  the 
bright  intelligence,  and  vivid  imagination,  and  then  unifies  them 
by  the  gift  of  reason  guided  by  faith  and  love. 

What  stronger  proof  could  we  ask  of  this  union  of  natural 
faculties  and  supernatural  graces  which  makes  the  saint,  than  in 
the  lives  of  the  two  Carmelite  nuns,  one  known  already  through- 
out the  Christian  world  as  "  The  Little  Flower  of  Jesus,"  the  other 
that  of  Sister  Elizabeth  of  the  Trinity,  whose  vocation  she  her- 
self summed  up  in  a  name  gathered  from  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to 
the  Ephesians,  "Praise  of  Glory?"  They  are  both  peculiarly 
beautiful  examples  of  lives  of  the  most  intense  spirituality  allied 
to  the  soundest  common  sense.  The  miraculous  has  a  very  small 
part  in  the  story  of  their  souls,  and  commences  chiefly  after  their 


804  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  C  ARM  EL  [Sept., 

death.  They  are  essentially  "  modern  "  in  their  appeal,  possessing 
the  mentality  of  our  day;  without  having  passed  through  the 
"  schools  "  or  absorbed  any  artificial  culture,  they  were  endowed 
with  what  is  far  better — a  keen  and  quick  intelligence,  doubled 
by  a  will-power  and  logical  sense  which  made  them  understand  from 
very  early  years  that  Christianity  is  not  a  creed  for  dreamers  or 
system  makers,  but  one  where  logical  consequences  must  follow  the 
accepted  faith. 

It  is  as  though  they  had  known  that  sentence  of  their  spiritual 
father,  St.  John  of  the  Cross :  "  God  is — that  suffices,"  and  had 
acted  throughout  their  brief  span  of  life  in  strict  compliance  with 
it.  Their  "  modern  "  touch  is  seen  in  the  "  divine  discontent " 
and  world  weariness  which  both  experienced  early  in  life,  not  indeed 
that  weariness  which  seeks  repose,  but  that  of  the  Christian  long- 
ing for  transfiguration  in  a  higher  and  more  intense  life  and  light. 
Both  were  highly  strung,  sensitive  children,  with  immense  capa- 
bilities in  any  direction ;  both  were  born  into  pious  homes,  and  were 
surrounded  in  youth  by  loving  and  serious  influences.  The  Hand 
of  God  was  upon  them  from  the  beginning,  and  His  sanctifying 
grace  was  given  to  each  with  a  generosity  that  clearly  indicates 
a  special  predestination.  Although  they  were  assured  by  their 
confessors  that  they  had  never  lost  their  baptismal  innocence,  yet 
in  the  life  of  each  there  is  a  special  time  from  which  they  date  their 
"  conversion." 

Sister  Teresa  speaks  of  "  a  miracle  on  a  small  scale  "  which 
was  needed  to  give  her  strength  of  character  all  at  once,  and  tells 
us  that  God  worked  this  long-desired  miracle  on  Christmas  Day, 
1886,  when  she  was  nearly  fourteen  years  old.  This  miracle  was 
the  grace  of  overcoming  an  extreme  sensitiveness,  and  withdrawing 
her  from  those  childish  failings  and  innocent  pleasures  of  which  she 
had  been  trying  to  cure  herself  since  the  age  of  four  and  a  half. 
"  Since  this  day  of  grace,"  she  writes,  "  a  spirit  of  self-forgetfulness 
took  possession  of  me,  and  from  that  time  I  was  perfectly  happy." 
This  grace  also  kindled  in  her  heart  a  burning  zeal  to  save  souls; 
this  consuming  desire  "  to  snatch  sinners  from  the  everlasting 
flames  of  hell  "  was  confirmed  by  the  sudden  repentance  on  the 
scaffold  of  a  notorious  criminal,  for  whose  conversion  she  had 
specially  prayed. 

Sister  Elizabeth  dates  her  "  conversion  "  from  the  time  of  her 
first  confession.  The  strong  will  power  which  is  such  a  character- 
istic of  her  whole  life,  already  shows  itself  at  this  time;  she 
made  a  resolve  to  control  her  fiery  temper,  and  to  hold  well  in 


1913.]  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL  805 

hand  her  impulsive  nature.  By  the  time  of  her  First  Communion 
the  victory  was  won.  Henceforth  a  visible  change  was  noticeable : 
no  movement  of  impatience  was  ever  seen  in  her. 

The  Bridegroom  had  set  aside  these  two  souls  for  Himself, 
and  both  received  a  vocation  to  the  cloister  in  early  childhood. 
Sister  Teresa  writes  of  Carmel  as  the  desert  where  God  wished  her 
to  hide,  and  adds  that  she  felt  it  with  the  certainty  of  a  divine 
call.  Although  she  was  only  about  nine  years  old,  she  confided 
her  secret  to  one  of  her  sisters,  and  eventually  to  the  Mother 
Prioress  of  a  Carmelite  convent,  where  another  of  her  sisters 
was  a  nun.  Both  believed  in  her  vocation,  but  she  was  told  that 
postulants  were  not  received  before  the  age  of  sixteen,  and  the 
Little  Flower  had  many  a  trial  to  go  through  before  blossoming 
on  the  summit  of  Carmel. 

Sister  Elizabeth  had  said,  when  a  child  of  seven,  "  I  shall 
be  a  nun !  I  will  be  a  nun !  "  but  it  was  seven  years  later  that  she 
received  the  grace  of  a  definite  "  call,"  and  heard  the  word  Carmel 
pronounced  within  her  soul  one  day  after  Holy  Communion.  Six 
more  years  were  to  be  spent  in  weary  waiting  before  her  one  desire 
to  be  hidden  behind  the  grille  was  realized. 

Such  mysterious  dealings  of  Providence  with  chosen"  souls 
when  in  extreme  youth  is  not  rare  in  the  lives  of  the  saints.  More 
exceptional  is  the  clear  perception  of  the  spiritual  way  by  which 
each  of  these  souls  was  led  towards  perfection;  strongly  attracted, 
fascinated  from  their  earliest  years  by  the  love  of  God,  Sister 
Teresa  was  to  attain  to  it  by  the  path  of  "  spiritual  childhood," 
and  Sister  Elizabeth  by  that  of  "  interior  recollection."  Neither 
of  these  souls  understood  half  measures.  Their  minds  made  up,  no 
reasonable  sacrifice  was  thought  too  difficult.  To  become  saints 
was  the  end  in  view.  Sister  Teresa,  being,  as  she  said,  "  too  tiny 
to  climb  the  steep  stairway  of  perfection,"  wished  to  find  "  a  little 
way,  very  short  and  very  straight,  a  little  way  that  is  wholly  new." 
This  was  the  path  of  "  spiritual  childhood."  As  in  this  age  of 
inventions  people  do  not  trouble  to  climb  the  stairs,  but  use  lifts 
instead,  so  she  would  try  to  find  a  lift  by  which  she  might  be 
raised  unto  God,  and  thus  realize  the  desire  of  her  heart  in  spite 
of  her  littleness.  She  discovered  what  she  sought  in  the  two 
texts,  "Whosoever  is  a  little  one,  let  him  come  to  Me"  (Prov. 
ix.  4),  and  "  You  shall  be  carried  at  the  breasts  and  upon  the  knees; 
. . .  .as  one  whom  the  mother  caresseth,  so  will  I  comfort  you  "  (Is. 
Ixvi.  12,  13).  Here  was  the  light  she  wanted — the  arms  of  Jesus 
would  be  the  lift  to  raise  her  up  to  heaven;  and  to  get  there  she 


8o6  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL  [Sept., 

need  not  grow  up;  on  the  contrary,  she  must  remain  little,  she 
must  become  still  less.  Her  way  would  be  the  way  of  a  child's 
love,  proved  by  never  allowing  any  little  chance  of  sacrifice  to 
escape,  making  profit  out  of  the  smallest  actions,  and  never  allowing 
a  word  or  a  look  to  escape  without  casting  them  as  flowers  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus. 

We  can  trace  back  to  the  day  of  Sister  Elizabeth's  First 
Communion,  the  awakening  of  her  soul  to  the  special  way  which 
would  lead  her  to  sanctity.  She  was  reminded  that  according  to 
the  meaning  of  her  name,  she  was  the  happy  little  "  House  of  God." 
She  seized  hold  of. this  idea  as  though  it  were  an  inspiration  from 
heaven,  and  when  at  a  later  time  she  was  told  that  she  would 
never  be  heroic  until  the  time  when  she  would  be  "  completely 
recollected  "  in  herself,  she  turned  to  this  interior  solitude .  and 
silence,  as  though  drawn  there  by  the  action  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
In  the  depths  of  her  soul  she  remained  in  continuous  adoration  of 
the  Blessed  Trinity;  there  it  was  she  found  Christ  to  be  her  peace, 
and  dwelt  with  Him  "  in  the  invincible  fortress  of  holy  recollection." 

Both  these  chosen  souls  furthered  the  work  of  grace  in  their 
souls  by  the  unflagging  practice  of  the  most  entire  self-renuncia- 
tion. The  war  they  waged  against  the  senses,  the  first  impulses 
of  nature  and  every  tendency  to  fall  into  the  commonplace,  or 
to  be  influenced  by  the  promptings  of  self  and  its  sensibilities, 
was  continued  relentlessly;  both  knew  that  the  path  to  sanctity 
lay  through  suffering,  and  consciously  they  chose  it,  and  never 
turned  aside;  rather  were  they  spellbound  by  its  charms  and  in- 
flamed with  desire  for  it.  Saintliness  of  this  stamp  in  such  young 
children  might  easily  lead  to  over-seriousness,  but  both  retained 
great  natural  liveliness  of  character,  and  were  singularly  endowed 
with  that  rarest  of  gifts — personal  charm.  Their  love  and  devotion 
to  their  families  is  deepened  and  strengthened  in  proportion  to  the 
advance  they  make  along  the  path  of  perfection. 

Sister  Teresa's  devotion  to  the  young  martyr,  Theophane 
Venard,  was  mainly  inspired  by  his  tender  love  of  his  own  family. 
"  I,  too,  love  my  family  with  a  tender  love ;  I  fail  to  understand 
those  saints  who  do  not  share  my  feelings."  These  words  were 
said  by  her  to  her  own  sisters  shortly  before  her  death.  Sister 
Elizabeth's  letters  to  her  mother  and  sister  show  us  the  same  intense 
love  for  kith  and  kin — indeed  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  two 
more  striking  examples  of  the  power  of  religion  to  spiritualize 
and  to  intensify  all  that  is  best  in  the  human  heart  than  in  the 
case  of  these  holy  nuns.  To  go  still  further,  we  would  add  that 


1913-]  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL  807 

neither  of  them  would  have  attained  their  perfect  development 
outside  the  cloister,  either  in  the  affections  or  in  the  intelligence. 
The  school  of  perfection  to  which  they  were  drawn  by  grace  taught 
them  not  only  the  love  of  God,  but  in  learning  to  love  Him,  they 
found  as  well  the  full  life  of  the  soul,  and  that  also  of  the  heart 
and  mind.  *•*$ 

Both  would  have  been  remarkable  women  in  any  walk  of  life; 
it  would  be  difficult  to  discover  two  finer  types  of  all-round  develop- 
ment than  these  "  flowers  of  Carmel."  Their  natural  gifts  were 
far  beyond  the  average.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  force  of 
will,  so  strong  in  each ;  in  intelligence  they  are  the  worthy  daughters 
of  St.  Teresa;  both  wrote  faultless  French,  and  possessed  a  liter- 
ary style  which  is  as  rare  as  it  is  beautiful.  Both  were  blessed 
with  that  rarest  of  gifts — the  creative  faculty,  doubled  by  a  vivid 
imagination.  Their  descriptions  of  nature,  more  especially  of 
flowers  and  of  the  sea,  are  of  real  poetic  worth.  Both  were 
inspired  poets,  their  verse  being  full  of  ardor  and  expression. 
Sister  Teresa  excelled  in  painting,  while  Sister  Elizabeth  was  a 
musician,  with  a  genius  for  interpreting  the  great  masters.  Sanc- 
tity no  doubt  is  an  effect  of  indwelling  grace  faithfully  preserved 
in  the  soul,  but  God  surrounds  the  soul  with  those  natural  facul- 
ties upon  which  He  intends  to  build  up  the  spiritual  edifice,  and 
although  in  certain  cases  He  leads  His  saints  by  the  path  of 
ignorance,  so  that  the  infused  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Spirit  may  be 
more  clearly  manifested,  yet  the  more  normal  road  would  be  that 
by  which  He  led  our  two  Carmelites.  Here  indeed  is  the  practice 
of  virtue  in  a  heroic  degree,  but  without  any  semblance  of  the 
extraordinary;  here  is  the  strong  faith  which  removes  every  ob- 
stacle and  wins  answer  to  prayer.  The  miraculous  is  mainly  to 
be  found  in  the  accounts  of  favors  obtained  through  their  inter- 
cession after  death,  yet  there  are  incidents  enough  to  show  the 
special  guiding  of  Providence  in  their  lives. 

Sister  Teresa's  autobiography  is  a  mine  of  mystic  theology — 
none  the  less  deep  on  account  of  its  apparent  simplicity.  She  quotes 
largely  both  from  the  Old  and  the  New  Testament,  giving  the  texts 
a  vividness  of  meaning  and  a  depth  of  interpretation  which  makes 
the  book  the  delight  of  the  learned  as  well  as  the  unlearned.  From 
this  point  of  view  Sister  Elizabeth  is  also  truly  remarkable. 
She  based  her  spirituality  on  what  she  learnt  from  the  Epistles 
of  St.  Paul,  whose  spirit  and  teaching  she  had  absorbed  to  a 
degree  rarely  to  be  found  outside  the  ranks  of  professed 


8o8  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  C ARM  EL  [Sept., 

theologians.  Her  piety,  as  well  as  that  of  Sister  Teresa,  was  es- 
sentially scriptural,  and  in  this  again  they  strike  a  modern  note.  As 
their  interior  life  became  more  intense,  we  can  see  the  gradual 
abandoning  of  all  helps  to  devotion  excepting  the  Holy  Scriptures 
and  the  Divine  Liturgy.  As  they  advanced  along  the  road  of  per- 
fection, these  virile  souls  seemed  to  stand  more  and  more  detached 
from  every  earthly  succor,  so  that  at  last  their  whole  life  was  one 
long  prayer  of  "loving  regard;"  nourished  as  they  were  upon  the 
whole  truth,  living  hour  by  hour  in  closest  communion  with  the 
Sacred  Humanity,  no  wonder  their  faith  and  love  grew  to  the  ex- 
treme limit  possible  in  human  existence.  But  a  love  and  faith  of  this 
calibre  implies  much  suffering  in  attaining,  and  still  greater  suffer- 
ing in  retaining.  Neither  was  spared  her  full  share  of  the  cross. 

It  was  an  early  desire  of  both  to  resemble  the  Divine  Model 
in  everything;  they  did  not  think  of  suffering  as  a  necessary 
affliction  to  be  borne  with  resignation,  or  for  the  sake  of  gaining 
merit,  but  as  the  most  enviable  favor  the  Master  could  bestow. 
This  insatiable  longing  for  suffering  has  been  the  characteristic  of 
many  saints,  and  "  predestinated  to  be  conformed  to  Christ,"  they 
knew  Him  through  the  "  fellowship  of  His  sufferings."  Spiritual 
trials,  and  finally  physical  pain  in  its  acutest  form,  was  the  lot  of 
"The  Little  Flower"  and  "Praise  of  Glory."  Both  suffered 
serenely  and  courageously ;  without  temerity  and  confiding  in  God's 
love,  they  advanced  rapidly  towards  the  goal.  The  story  of  the 
last  few  months  of  the  earthly  exile  of  these  victims  of  love 
is  amongst  the  most  wonderful  testimonies  of  the  power  of  the  soul 
over  suffering,  of  mind  over  matter,  of  grace  over  nature.  Sister 
Teresa  had  said  a  few  days  before  her  death,  "  the  death  of  love 
which  I  desire  is  that  of  Jesus  upon  the  cross;"  and  when  the  cup  of 
suffering  was  full  to  overflowing,  and  so  intense  that  it  seemed 
impossible  to  suffer  more,  she  exclaimed,  "  I  can  only  explain 
it  by  my  extreme  desire  to  save  souls ;"  and  then,  "  Yes,  all  that 
I  have  written  about  my  thirst  for  suffering  is  really  true!  I  do 
not  regret  having  surrendered  myself  to  love."  Her  last  words 
were:  "  I  do  not  wish  to  suffer  less,"  then,  looking  at  her  crucifix, 
"  Oh,  I  love  Him!  My  God,  I  love  Thee!  " 

When  Sister  Elizabeth  confided  her  desire  of  suffering  to  a 
Dominican  Father  whose  influence  had  helped  to  shape  her  soul  in 
the  way  of  interior  recollection,  he  told  her  not  to  limit  herself 
to  that,  but  to  yield  herself  in  all  simplicity  to  God,  leaving 
Him  free  to  act  in  any  way  He  chose.  This  was  the  signal  for  a 


1913.]  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL  809 

still  swifter  ascension  of  her  whole  being  towards  God.  She  was 
enduring  a  terrible  physical  agony,  and  was  yet  able  to  say,  "  I  feel 
love  standing  beside  me  as  though  it  were  a  living  being!  It  says 
to  me :  'I  wish  to  love  in  thy  companionship ;  therefore  I  desire 
thee  to  suffer  without  thinking  that  thou  art  suffering,  submitting 
thyself  to  my  action  upon  thee,'  "  and  when  her  tortures  increased, 
"  God  is  a  consuming  fire,  He  is  acting  upon  me."  Her  soul 
seemed  completely  master  of  her  physical  state,  and  the  few  words 
she  was  still  able  to  utter  gave  abundant  evidence  of  her  deep 
interior  concentration  on  God.  Those  who  surrounded  her  were 
reminded  of  the  choice  she  had  made  of  dying  in  the  abandonment 
of  Calvary  rather  than  in  an  ecstasy — "  not  on  account  of  its 

merit,  but  that  I  might  glorify  and  resemble  Him I  depart  in 

pure  faith,  and  prefer  it,  for  I  resemble  my  Master  more  closely, 
and  it  is  more  real."  Such  were  her  sentiments  on  the  eve  of 
death.  Just  before  entering  the  great  silence,  the  foretaste  of  which 
she  had  so  loved  in  Carmel,  she  murmured  the  words  "  I  am 
going  to  light,  to  love,  to  life !  "  With  a  radiant  expression  of 
ecstasy  rather  than  agony,  the  little  "  Praise  of  Glory  "  left  this 
earth.  She  had  said,  "  I  shall  hardly  have  reached  the  threshold 
of  Paradise  when  I  shall  rush  there  like  a  little  rocket,  for  a 
Traise  of  Glory'  can  have  no  other  place  to  all  eternity."  There 
was  no  sorrow  round  the  graves  of  these  innocent  victims;  the  pain 
of  sacrifice  gave  way  to  a  feeling  of  great  hope  and  divine  peace. 
Their  mission  had  barely  begun — both  had  spoken  prophetically 
of  what  would  be  their  vocation  in  heaven.  Sister  Teresa 
had  concluded  her  autobiography  with  the  following  prayer: 
"  I  entreat  Thee  to  let  Thy  Divine  Eyes  rest  upon  a  vast  uumber  of 
little  souls;  I  entreat  Thee  to  choose,  in  this  world,  a  legion 
of  little  victims  of  Thy  love."  Her  work  would  be  to  teach  her 
little  ^vay  to  little  souls,  and  when  asked  what  that  way  was,  she 
answered,  "  It  is  the  way  of  trust  and  of  absolute  self-surrender." 
Sister  Elizabeth  writes  to  one  of  her  friends  that  the  special 
grace  of  her  little  sister  of  Lisieux  is  "  to  dilate  souls,  to  in- 
spire them  with  love,  confidence,  and  self -surrender."  That  she  is 
exerting  this  secret  power  is  well  known  to  those  who  are  au  cou- 
rant  of  the  numberless  miracles  and  graces  she  has  obtained  from 
God  for  those  who  invoke  her.  She  is  indeed  true  to  her  promise, 
"  I  will  spend  my  heaven  in  doing  good  on  earth,"  and  "  the  shower 
of  roses  "  which  she  said  she  would  let  fall  upon  the  earth  is  fast 
becoming  a  mighty  torrent  of  flowers  strewn  over  the  whole  earth. 


810  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  C  ARM  EL  [Sept., 

The  Process  for  her  Beatification  has  begun,  and  the  cause  is  likely 
to  make  rapid  progress  towards  Canonization. 

The  "  Little  Flower  "  died  in  1897,  and  "  Praise  of  Glory  " 
in  1906.  She  too  has  already  given  ample  proof  of  the  mission  she 
declared  she  would  fulfill  from  heaven.  "  I  believe  that  in  heaven 
my  mission  will  be  to  draw  souls  to  interior  recollection  by  helping 
them  to  go  out  of  self,  and  to  adhere  to  God  by  a  simple  and  loving 
impulse;  to  keep  them  in  that  profound  inner  silence  which  allows 
God  to  imprint  Himself  upon  souls,  and  to  transform  them  into 
Himself."  This  is  the  vocation  of  her  who  said,  "  I  have  found 
heaven  on  earth,  since  heaven  is  God,  and  God  is  in  my  soul." 
From  all  parts  of  the  world  we  hear  of  many  exterior  signs  con- 
firming her  work  in  souls.  Her  glory  already  shines  with  a  clear 
steady  lustre,  and  many  owe  their  divine  awakening  to  her  influence. 
By  the  light  shed  by  this  little  lamp  many  have  found  the  "gift 
of  God,"  and  found  also  the  grace  of  initiation  into  a  deeper  interior 
life  of  communion  with  her  "  Three,"  her  "  Almighty  Counsellor  " 
as  she  called  the  Three  Divine  Persons.  This  power  over  souls,  this 
leading  from  self  and  all  that  is  human  to  the  life  that  "  makes  all 
things  new,"  to  the  life  of  adoration  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  is  indeed 
a  mark  revealing  great  sanctity.  Many  already  kneel  secretly  be- 
side her  tomb,  begging  her  to  win  for  them  some  of  those  great 
blessings  she  herself  received  in  her  lifetime. 

Thus  do  these  two  chosen  souls  bear  witness  to  the  indwelling 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  us;  to  the  divine  life  in  the  creature;  to  the 
reality  of  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  humanity.  The  exquisite 
simplicity  and  sincerity  of  the  Little  Flower,  her  "  sure  way  "  of 
trust  and  complete  abandonment  to  love,  her  bright  nature  and 
admirable  intelligence,  would  seem  to  have  been  raised  up  by  God 
as  a  special  example  in  these  modern  days  of  complicated  culture 
and  dispersed  energies,  to  warn  us  away  from  the  worldly  spirit  of 
the  century,  and  to  show  us  what  supernatural  as  well  as  natural 
marvels  God  works  in  the  soul  wholly  surrendered  to  His  inspira- 
tion. The  influence  too  of  modern  civilization  is  one  of  disintegra- 
tion, both  moral  and  physical.  There  is  little  stability  of  character 
or  steady  motive;  souls  evaporate  in  superficial  piety,  and  mood 
takes  too  frequently  the  place  of  reason.  Sister  Elizabeth  runs 
counter  to  this  spirit;  from  her  earliest  years  she  makes  a  bold 
stand  against  the  first  movements  of  nature,  and  stamps  out  with 
all  the  energy  of  her  ardent  temperament  the  sensibility  inseparable 
from  a  delicate  organization  like  her  own.  Her  spirituality,  like 


1913-]  TWO  FLOWERS  OF  CARMEL  811 

that  of  Sister  Teresa,  was  entirely  based  upon  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
and  has  been  aptly  described  as  "  doctrinal."  They  share,  too,  a 
common  veneration  and  love  for  the  Divine  Office,  so  that  Sister 
Elizabeth  could  say  that  she  did  not  think  it  possible  for  anyone 
to  have  prepared  themselves  with  greater  care  for  its  recital  than  she 
did.  The  strength  of  her  intellect,  as  well  as  the  depth  and  intensity 
of  her  spiritual  life,  is  marvelously  revealed  in  the  notes  of  her 
last  retreat,  in  which  she  explains  what  she  understood  by  her 
office  of  "  Praise  of  Glory."  This  was  the  one  idea  of  her  life — to 
live  already  on  this  earth  the  life  of  praise  of  God's  glory  as  we 
shall  do  in  heaven.  For  her,  heaven  on  earth  meant  "  heaven  in 
faith,  with  suffering  and  self-immolation "  for  Him  she  loved. 
She  believed  that  "  we  should  give  immense  joy  to  the  Heart 
of  God  by  imitating,  in  the  heaven  of  our  soul,  this  occupation  of 
{he  blessed,  adhering  to  Him  by  the  simple  contemplation  which 
resembles  the  state  of  innocence  in  which  man  was  created."  And 
then  she  asks,  "  How  can  I  imitate,  within  the  heaven  of  my  soul, 
the  ceaseless  work  of  the  blessed  in  the  heaven  of  glory?  How 
can  I  maintain  this  constant  praise,  this  uninterrupted  adoration?  " 
She  finds  the  answer  given  by  St.  Paul,  "  the  father  of  her  soul," 
as  she  termed  him,  "  That  the  Father would  grant  you,  ac- 
cording to  the  riches  of  His  glory,  to  be  strengthened unto 

the  inward  man.     That  Christ  may  dwell  by  faith  in  your  hearts; 

that  being  rooted  and  founded  in  charity "     "  To  be  rooted 

and  founded  in  charity,"  she  exclaims,  is  the  necessary  condition 
of  worthily  fulfilling  the  office  of  a  "  Praise  of  Glory."  The 
soul  that  enters  into,  that  dwells  in  "  the  deep  things  of  God," 
that  consequently  does  all  "  by  Him,  with  Him,  and  in  Him," 
with  the  purity  of  intention  that  gives  it  a  certain  resemblance 
to  the  one,  simple  Being — this  soul  by  its  every  aspiration,  every 
action,  every  movement,  however  commonplace,  becomes  more 
deeply  rooted  in  Him  it  loves.  Everything  within  it  renders 
homage  to  the  thrice-holy  God ;  it  may  be  called  a  perpetual  Sanctus, 
a  perpetual  "  Praise  of  Glory." 

Such  were  these  daughters  of  Saint  Teresa,  worthy  indeed  of 
their  Seraphic  Mother!  From  her  they  inherited  their  burning 
zeal  and  devotion  to  Holy  Church ;  from  her,  too,  their  ardent  love 
and  apostolate  of  prayer.  They  are  teaching  the  modern  world 
those  lessons  of  which  it  stands  most  in  need,  and  are  bringing 
back  countless  souls  to  the  paths  of  simplicity,  faith,  and  pure 
love  of  God. 


THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY. 

BY  JANE  HALL. 

EIL  BURKE  stood  outside  a  bookshop  in  Royal 
Street,  New  Orleans,  and  he  had  money  in  his 
pocket,  and  this  he  counted  a  singular  coincidence. 
Thrusting  his  hands  deep  into  his  trousers  pockets, 
he  rattled  the  silver  to  assure  himself  of  its  enduring 
reality,  and  tossed  a  quarter  to  a  negro  boy  who  was  grinding  out 
"  Trovatore  "  on  a  hurdy-gurdy.  Then  he  turned  to  his  book- 
shop window. 

In  Neil's  opinion  there  was  but  one  other  place  in  the  world 
that  presented  so  compelling  an  appeal  to  one's  pocket  book,  and 
that  was  the  Quai  Malaquais  in  Paris.  On  the  Quai  Malaquais 
and  in  Royal  Street,  the  exchange  of  money  involved  in  a  transfer 
of  ownership  had  always  seemed  to  Neil  a  trivial  farce  maintained 
by  callous  shopkeepers  in  the  illusion  that  they  profited  thereby. 
The  idea  that  money  could  give  adequate  return  for  the  possession 
of  rare  old  books  and  genuine  antiques  was,  in  itself,  an  evidence 
of  the  callousness  that  had  overgrown  their  souls. 

Not  since  the  days  of  Paris  had  Neil  looked  into  such  a 
window,  and  having  acquired  some  proficiency  in  estimating  the 
character  of  shopkeepers  by  their  window  displays,  he  registered 
the  impression  that  this  shopkeeper  knew  his  books  and  loved 
them.  Were  this  the  case  he  foresaw  impending  difficulties.  He 
had  met  such  shopkeepers  before,  and  usually  their  hair  was  white, 
and  they  appeared  from  the  back  of  the  shop  when  you  entered, 
always  with  a  book,  the  thumb  marking  the  page  at  which  you 
interrupted,  and  they  waited  on  you  with  a  manner  of  patient 
interest  that  they  did  not  feel.  If  you  selected  a  book  that  was 
not  thumb  marked,  well  and  good;  the  shopkeeper  gave  it  into 
your  possession  unfeelingly,  and  accepted  the  equivalent  of  your 
next  three  dinners  with  equal  concern.  But  should  you  hit  upon  an 
old  worn  volume,  whose  ragged  edges  and  soiled  leaves  betokened  an 
affection  of  many  years,  your  accumulated  savings  from  a  month  of 
fasting  could  not  buy  it.  That  book  had  become  a  part  of  him. 
It  had  bound  itself  to  him  by  a  life-long  friendship,  and,  notwith- 
standing your  disappointment,  you  came  away  refreshed  with  the 
memory  of  this  fine,  white-haired,  old  gentleman,  who  placed  so 
high  a  value  on  friends. 


1913.]  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  813 

Reflecting  upon  the  problematical  disposition  of  this  shop- 
keeper, Neil's  mind  had  wandered  from  the  bookshop  window,  but 
now  returned.  His  eye  centred  on  the  shelf  of  fiction,  and  he  felt 
the  silver,  in  his  pocket  leap.  Monsieur,  the  shopkeeper,  under- 
stood well  the  hunger  of  men's  minds,  and  had,  besides,  the  honesty 
to  give  full  measure  for  the  want.  The  works  of  George  Mere- 
dith occupied  the  shelf  of  fiction;  and  so  it  was  that  Neil  knew 
the  keeper  of  the  shop. 

Had  there  been  one  book  less,  he  reflected  in  after  years, 
it  might  never  have  happened,  and  the  incorrigible  burden  of  life 
then !  For  it  was  in  considering  a  volume  of  Meredith  that  Neil's 
eyes  wandered  into  a  corner  as  yet  unexplored,  and  fell  upon  a 
dusty  little  image  of  the  Virgin.  It  was  no  ordinary  image  such 
as  one  may  see  in  any  shop  of  church  supplies,  but  a  group  of 
figures  composed  of  (Adam,  Eve,  the  Virgin,  and  two  angels 
bearing  tapers.  And  to  Neil,  who  usually  saw  in  things  what  no 
one  else  saw,  there  was  a  beautiful  significance  in  the  arrangement 
of  this  little  group.  It  was  an  intimation  of  the  gift  divine,  he 
said,  that  had  placed  the  Mother  of  God  midway  between  the 
originators  of  sin  and  the  angels. 

Neil  recognized  the  image  as  a  replica  of  the  central  group 
above  the  high  altar  in  Notre  Dame,  and  he  knew  these  replicas 
were  rare;  he  had  seen  but  one  other  like  it.  Again  it  was  the 
Quai  Malaquais  and  in  a  bookshop  window.  It  was  not  a  perfect 
image  either,  he  remembered ;  there  had  been  a  crack  in  the  hem  of 
the  Virgin's  robe.  He  had  tried  to  buy  it,  but  the  shopkeeper 
was  one  of  those  fine,  white-haired,  old  gentlemen  to  whom  money 
makes  no  appeal.  He  had  wanted  it  merely  because  its  oddness 
appealed  to  him,  and  there  was  idle  money  in  his  pocket.  He  could 
not  possibly  have  foreseen  the  day,  then,  when  he  should  come 
to  value  it  above  everything. 

"  Surely,"  he  thought,  "  it  is  by  some  favor  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  that  I  am  standing  now  before  this  bookshop  window." 
Then  he  glanced  at  Meredith  and  smiled. 

Neil  entered  the  shop,  and  turned  the  pages  of  a  magazine 
while  he  waited  the  appearance  of  the  shopkeeper.  There  was 
time  to  read  two  complete  articles  before  he  came. 

His  hair  was  not  white;  it  was  of  that  particular  color  of 
gray  that  denotes  the  swift  passing  of  middle  age.  But  in  all 
other  respects  Neil  had  estimated  the  man. 

Neil  said  he  wanted  Meredith,  but  of  the  four  novels  still 
unread  he  had,  as  yet,  made  no  choice.  He  fingered  them  all 


814  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  [Sept., 

reflectively.  Choosing  was  the  supreme  joy  in  the  act  of  book 
buying,  and  Neil  was  not  in  the  humor  to  be  deprived  of  it,  but 
the  man  who  waited  had  his  thumb  in  a  book. 

"  Monsieur,  I  advise  you  to  take  Beauchamp's  Career." 

"  As  well  that  as  anything,"  Neil  replied. 

"  And  would  there  be  anything  else  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  look  at  that  little  image  of  the  Virgin  you 
have  in  the  window." 

"  Certainly,  monsieur,  but  the  image  is  not  for  sale." 

"  Then  why  do  you  display  it  in  your  window  ?  " 

"  Dieu  sait,  perhaps  it  is  to  attract  customers  like  yourself." 

While  he  was  speaking  the  shopkeeper  removed  the  image 
from  the  window,  blew  the  dust  from  it,  and  handed  it  to  Neil. 
And  Neil,  accepting  it,  wondered  if  his  trembling  hands  betrayed 
his  eagerness.  But  when  he  had  examined  it,  his  wonderment 
surpassed  the  adequacy  of  his  native  tongue. 

"  Monsieur,  it  is  you,"  he  began  excitedly.  "  It  is  you  who 
have  lived  on  the  Quai  Malaquais." 

"  May  I  ask  how  monsieur  knows  that  ?  "  The  old  man,  for 
so  we  may  call  him  with  his  hair  verging  on  white,  and  the  years 
heavy  upon  his  shoulders,  spoke  slowly.  His  voice  was  steady  and 
even;  it  was  the  sudden  brightness  of  his  eyes  that  belied  his  tone. 

"  It  is  by  this  image  that  I  know,"  Neil  answered  him.  "  See, 
here  is  the  crack  in  the  hem  of  the  Virgin's  robe.  It  is  not 
possible  that  there  are  two  images  with  two  such  cracks.  This 
image  was  once  in  a  shop  window  on  the  Quai  Malaquais,  perhaps 
for  the  same  reason  that  it  is  here — to  attract  customers  like 
myself,  but  certain  it  is  that  I  could  not  buy  it.  That  was  ten 
years  ago.  It  was  a  mere  whim  that  made  me  want  it  then,  but 
now — now,  God  hear  me,  it  is  the  thing  I  value  most  in  this  world, 
and  I  must  have  it.  I  will  give  for  it  what  I  have,  but  I  must 
have  it.  You  understand  ?  I  must  have  this  image  and  no  other." 

"  That  is  impossible,  monsieur." 

"  You  can  talk  of  impossibilities  when  it  is  the  Blessed  Lady 
herself  who  has  brought  me  here,  who  has  put  this  image  in  my 
hands.  Is  it  you  who  know  the  ways  of  God?  " 

"  Neither  the  ways  of  God  nor  the  ways  of  men,  monsieur. 
It  is  yourself  who  eludes  my  understanding.  You  come  into  my 
shop  to  buy  Meredith,  and  suddenly  you  become  mad  about  a  piece 
of  colored  plaster.  It  is— 

"  What  matters  your  understanding?"  Neil  interrupted  him. 
"  What  matters  anything  except  that  I  have  searched  seven  years 


1913-]  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  815 

out  of  ten  for  the  image  of  Our  Lady,  and  that  now  I  have  it  in 
my  hands.  It  is  my  whole  happiness,  this  little  image,  and  what 
is  it  to  you — a  piece  of  colored  plaster :  you  have  said  it.  Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  will  give  for  it  all  I  have  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  all  that  you  have  could  not  buy  it,"  the  shop- 
keeper answered.  "  It  is  my  heritage,  that  little  piece  of  plaster. 
It  is  that  one  must  respect  the  wishes  of  the  dead."  .,; 

"  Is  the  image  not  the  same,  then,  that  I  saw  on  the  Quai 
Malaquais  ?  " 

"It  is  the  same,  though  it  was  not  in  my  shop  window  that 
you  saw  it,  but  my  father's.  I  was  out  in  the  world  then,  tasting 
of  its  pleasures.  I  was  not  young,  but  I  had  remained  always 
at  home,  and  I  had  still  the  great  illusion  that  losing  one's  head 
and  flinging  away  one's  money  constituted  life.  For  those  years  I 
lost  my  heritage.  The  shop  that  you  saw  was  to  have  been  mine. 
It  is  mine  still  by  the  law  of  the  heart :  to  love  is  to  possess,  mon- 
sieur, is  it  not  so?  I  loved  that  little  shop  as  a  man  loves  his 
mistress.  I  knew  every  book,  every  jewel,  every  antique,  every 
piece  of  bronze  and  ivory;  they  were  my  friends  from  childhood. 
Often  at  night  I  would  call  to  mind  the  loveliness  of  some  design, 
and  with  the  memory  of  its  beauty  I  slept,  so  that  it  was  my  first 
thought  on  wakening. 

"  The  heart  has  many  claims,  monsieur,  but  there  comes  to 
each  life  but  one  great  passion.  For  some  it  is  a  woman,  for  others 
a  work,  for  me  it  was  my  shop.  Then  to  lose  it!  Dieu,  it  is 
much  to  have  paid  for  mistaken  pleasure.  It  is  again  the  tragedy 
of  unreason.  My  father  did  not  remember  my  years  of  faithful 
service;  in  his  anger  he  willed  the  shop  to  my  brother's  son. 
I  could  not  believe  it.  I  said,  'At  the  last  he  will  see  clearly,  and 
he  will  repent  of  his  anger.'  Monsieur,  I  had  the  great  faith  of  love. 

"  But  no,  it  was  not  so.  Faith  had  betrayed  my  reason. 
To  me,  his  son,  my  father  left  the  image  of  Our  Lady.  It  is 
rare,  as  monsieur  knows.  There  are,  perhaps,  not  three  others 
like  it  in  the  world.  But  it  is  not  for  that  I  cherish  it.  It  is 
because  I  am  growing  old  and  my  life  is  broken,  and  that  little 
image  speaks  to  me  of  the  thing  I  loved.  I  yield  my  thoughts 
to  it,  and  I  find  relief  from  the  deep  silence.  Monsieur  knows; 
he  has  the  great  gift  of  understanding.  I  cannot  part  from  that 
little  image.  Mon  Dieu!  I  cannot.  It  is  my  soul!" 

The  old  man  turned  from  Neil  abruptly.  The  schooling  of 
the  years  had  taught  him  the  suppression  of  emotion.  He  stood 
quietly  looking  into  the  street. 


816  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  [Sept., 

Neil,  captive  of  an  impulse,  stepped  quickly  to  his  side -and 
touched  his  arm.  "  Monsieur,"  he  said,  unconsciously  adopting 
the  old  man's  manner  of  speech,  "  will  you  shake  hands  with  me? 
I  shall  remember  it  happily  when  I  am  old." 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"No?  Then  it  is  this:  For  the  end  of  life  I  shall  have 
courage.  I  shall  say:  'Now  am  I  certain  about  God,  for  once  I 
met  a  man  who  would  not  barter  his  soul.'  It  is  because  of  that," 
Neil  continued,  "  that  you  must  hear  my  story.  You  must  know, 
monsieur,  that  I  do  not  ask  a  man  that  thing  which  is  his  soul 
without  a  reason.  'There  is  but  one  great  passion  that  comes  to 
every  life,'  yourself  has  said  it.  For  you,  monsieur,  it  is  your  shop, 
but  for  me  it  is  a  woman.  Her  name  is  Renee.  She  is  of  your 
country,  and  she  has  the  soul  that  seeks  always  the  unattainable. 
She  is  my  wife,  monsieur.  We  have  had  our  great  joy,  we  have 
had  our  dream,  but  now  the  shadow  is  upon  us.  Renee  is  a  cripple. 
For  seven  years  she  has  not  walked.  There  is  no  cure  for  her, 
the  doctors  say,  because  they  cannot  name  her  illness.  Her  injury 
came  of  a  fall,  and  because  of  the  great  pain  she  lost  her  courage. 
Since  that  time  she  has  never  walked.  Now  the  muscles  are  weak 
through  long  disuse,  and  she  has  no  will  to  try.  If  you  could  see 
her,  monsieur,  so  white,  so  frail,  with  her  dark  restless  eyes  moving 
from  beauty  to  beauty,  'A  soul  that  has  lost  its  body/  you  would 
say.  Yes,  that  is  Renee. 

"  But  life  is  never  without  hope,  monsieur,  and  there  is  one 
thing  in  which  we  both  have  great  faith:  it  is  the  image  of  Our 
Lady.  For  you  are  to  know  that  it  is  the  Blessed  Mother  who 
has  sent  all  good  things  into  our  lives.  Before  her  shrine  in  Notre 
Dame  I  found  Renee,  and  immediately  came  the  commission  to 
paint  my  first  mural:  so  the  Blessed  Mother  arranged  it  that  we 
should  marry.  Is  it,  then,  a  thing  to  wonder  about  that  Renee 
should  say:  'Find  me  an  image  of  Our  Lady  and  I  shall  walk?' 

"  You  say,  monsieur,  that  you  do  not  understand  how  a  man 
may  read  Meredith  and  put  his  faith  in  images.  And  I  answer 
you,  neither  do  I  understand,  but  one  may  believe  though  he  does 
not  understand.  Is  it  not  so?  Faith  is  a  thing  ever  apart  from 
the  intellect,  and  this  I  know :  it  is  faith  that  occasions  miracles, 
never  miracles  that  give  our  faith. 

"  Monsieur,  I  know  what  I  am  asking — yourself  has  said  it :  it 
is  your  soul.  Well,  then,  I  say  to  you :  Give  your  soul  that  you  may 
find  it  again !  In  the  name  of  God  I  am  asking  of  you  Renee's  life." 

For  a  long  time  there  was  silence  between  them.     They  stood, 


I9I3-]  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  817 

both  of  them,  staring  into  the  busy  street,  and  trying  to  determine 
there  the  question  of  faith  and  souls.  But  when  at  last  Neil  turned 
to  the  man  beside  him,  no  word  was  required  to  tell  him  his 
happiness  was  won;  the  light  that  shone  on  the  shopkeeper's  face 
was  one  of  peace. 

"  Take  it,  my  son,"  he  said,  "  and  may  you  find  that  faith 
has  not  deceived  your  intellect.  But  do  not  let  us  speak  of  money. 
I  will  lend  you  the  image  of  Our  Lady,  and  when  the  miracle  is 
accomplished,  you  will  return  it  to  me  so  that  I  may  find  my  soul 
again."  He  smiled;  even  in  sacrifice  humor  has  its  place. 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  not  words  to  thank  you,"  Neil  began. 

"  Do  not;  gratitude  is  essentially  a  thing  of  the  heart." 

When  Monsieur  Girard  turned  the  key  in  the  door  of  his  shop 
the  day  following,  his  eyes  instinctively  sought  the  window  where 
every  morning  for  years  he  had  looked  upon  the  image  of  Our  Lady. 
Why  had  he  placed  it  in  the  window  ?  To  gather  dust  and  attract 
the  curious?  Counterfeit  reasons,  he  knew.  He  must  look  upon 
it  first  in  the  morning  and  last  at  night;  as  a  man  looks  into  the 
eyes  of  a  loved  woman  to  find  his  soul  there,  so  Monsieur  Girard 
looked  upon  his  image.  He  looked  and  said  to  himself  that  he 
was  a  fool  for  all  his  fifty  years,  and  yet  he  understood  the  wisdom 
of  such  folly. 

But  now  the  window  was  empty  and  life  was  empty.  Yielding 
to  an  impulse,  he  had  parted  with  the  thing  he  loved,  and  his 
intellect  condemned  his  action.  Did  he  know  anything  of  the  boy 
except  the  light  in  his  eyes  and  the  gentleness  of  his  Irish  voice? 
Was  reason  never  to  be  identified  with  age  ?  He  had  no  more  head 
at  fifty  than  he  had  had  at  thirty;  life  would  always  require  of  him 
to  play  the  fool. 

"  Norn  de  Dieu! "  he  finished,  "  but  I  argue  poorly.  If  the  boy 
puts  his  faith  in  images,  I'll  put  my  faith  in  the  boy.  Dieu! 
How  many  years  since  I  have  believed  in  anything!" 

Three  days  passed,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  Monsieur 
Girard  received  a  telegram.  He  opened  the  envelope  deliberately. 
What  need  was  there  of  haste?  The  great  news  was  already  in  the 
air.  Observing  that  the  telegram  had  been  sent  from  New  York, 
Monsieur  Girard  smiled;  he  had  forgotten  to  take  Neil's  address. 

"  The  old  intellect  had  some  reason  to  grumble,"  he  thought, 
"but  what  does  it  matter  now?  "  He  unfolded  the  yellow  paper, 
and  the  great  joy  that  is  the  end  of  sacrifice  was  in  his  heart. 

VOL.  xcvu.— 52 


818  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  [Sept., 

"Renee  walks,"  he  read.  "May  the  Mother  of  God  reward  you." 

With  the  coming  of  every  morning  thereafter,  Monsieur  Girard 
looked  for  the  return  of  the  image  of  Our  Lady,  and  at  the  end 
of  every  day,  when  it  had  not  come,  he  felt  his  disappointment 
growing  heavier.  He  dared  not  consider  what  might  have  happened 
to  it,  if  it  were  lost  or  broken,  or  if  the  boy  meant  not  to  return  it. 
He  dared  not  consider  these  things  because  his  faith  stood  in  the 
way.  His  intellect  whispered  misgivings ;  he  would  not  listen.  "The 
harvest  of  the  years,"  he  said,  "  what  is  it  if  it  is  not  faith  in  men?  " 

But  when  a  week  had  passed  and  the  image  had  not  been  re- 
turned, neither  had  any  other  word  come  from  Neil,  Monsieur 
Girard  knew  that  his  faith  was  on  trial.  So  he  waited  and  fought. 
If  one  day  brought  him  hope,  the  next  returned  to  him  his  disbelief. 

Thus  the  days  moved  slowly,  with  difficulty,  and  the  face  of 
Monsieur  Girard  became  whiter,  and  his  smile  a  grimace  that  be- 
trayed the  terrible  struggle  within.  A  month  passed,  and  the  shop- 
keeper, unable  to  endure  the  silence  longer,  told  his  story  to  an 
old  acquaintance. 

"  What  you  need  is  a  change,"  his  friend  said.  "  You've  let 
this  thing  weigh  upon  your  mind  until  you've  come  to  exaggerate 
its  importance.  What  if  the  boy  does  abscond  with  your  image? 
What  shall  you  have  lost  but  an  inartistic  piece  of  plaster?  " 

"What  shall  I  have  lost?"  the  old  man  cried  impatiently. 
"  How  is  it  that  you  can  ask  ?  It  is  my  faith  I  shall  have  lost,  my 
faith  in  men  which  was  returned  to  me  after  many  unbelieving 
years.  Do  you  count  that  a  little  thing?  My  friend,  it  is  I  who 
pity  you.  But  no,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  not  lost  it.  I  will  believe. 
Hear  me,  monsieur,  it  is  you  who  shall  witness  my  belief.  Some 
day  the  image  of  Our  Lady  will  return  to  me.  At  this  moment 
I  know  that  for  a  certainty.  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  the  struggle. 
Now  I  shall  have  peace." 

So  it  was  that  Monsieur  Girard  kept  his  faith.  The  days  did 
not  move  more  quickly  now,  but  they  were  more  endurable  because 
of  the  tranquillity  that  marked  their  progress.  And  in  the  strength- 
ening of  his  faith  from  day  to  day,  Monsieur  Girard  felt  a  new 
vitality  possess  his  body.  Something  of  that  vigor  of  will  passed 
into  his  muscles  and  his  brain.  He  straightened  his  shoulders.  He 
held  his  head  a  little  higher.  He  believed  in  his  own  efforts  as  he 
had  never  believed  in  them  before.  Life  was  renewed  to  him 
in  his  faith. 

The  day  that  ended  his  patient  waiting  brought  the  sun's 


1913.]  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  819 

warmth  to  his  heart,  and  Monsieur  Girard,  flinging  off  the  years 
like  old  garments,  put  on  his  youth  again  and  danced.  A  letter 
had  come  to  him  in  an  unfamiliar  handwriting,  which  he  knew 
must  be  Neil's;  a  French  stamp  and  a  Paris  postmark  were  dumb 
apologies  for  its  tardiness.  "  Paris,"  he  sighed  as  he  broke  the  seal. 

MY  DEAR  MONSIEUR  GIRARD: 

I  do  not  begin  with  apologies  for  my  silence,  though  I  should. 
The  story  of  the  miracle  is  waiting  to  be  told. 

"  Not  so  fast,  young  man,"  I  hear  you  say.  "  We  no  longer 
live  in  the  age  of  miracles.  Nowadays  things  happen  because 
we  will  them  to  or  because  we  are  lucky,  or  are  sent  a  gift 
from  the  gods." 

As  you  will,  monsieur,  but  hear  my  story ;  then  let  your  intel- 
lect seek  the  answer.  If  you  received  my  message,  you  must 
know  that  Renee  walks.  To  hold  the  image  of  Our  Lady  in 
her  hands,  that  was  to  confirm  her  faith.  And  there,  monsieur, 
is  the  reason  for  the  symbol  of  one's  belief:  truth  is  never 
so  much  truth  as  when  the  eye  beholds  it ;  "  seeing  is  believing  " 
we  are  told.  And  such  was  the  influence  of  that  little  piece  of 
plaster  on  Renee's  mind  that  once  she  had  walked,  she  believed 
she  could  not  walk  without  it. 

"  Why  did  you  not  buy  the  image,  Neil  ?  "  she  said.  "  Do 
you  not  see  that  now  I  cannot  do  without  it  ?  " 

"  But,  Renee,  I  have  told  you.  Monsieur  Girard  would  not 
sell.  And  I  have  given  him  my  word  that  the  image  will  be 
returned  to  him." 

"But  not  now — please  not  now,"  Renee  pleaded.  "Surely 
Monsieur  Girard  will  not  mind  if  I  keep  it  until  I  am  strong 
again.  Write  and  explain  it  to  him.  Tell  him  that  just  to 
look  upon  the  face  of  Our  Lady  is  to  feel  my  strength  returning. 
Tell  him,  Neil,  that  there  is  sunlight  on  the  hills  again." 

And  it  was  even  after  I  had  begun  the  letter,  monsieur, 
that  the  wonderful  commission  came.  I  must  explain  that 
six  months  before,  I  had  entered  a  competition  for  the  murals 
of  a  new  theatre,  and  I  do  not  know  how  it  happened,  but  I  won. 
So  I  had  won  the  competition,  and  Renee  had  her  health,  and 
these  things  had  come  to  us  through  our  believing.  Monsieur, 
you  will  understand  how  dear  to  us  the  reminder  of  our  faith 
had  become. 

My  work  had  to  be  done  in  Paris,  and  a  year  is  but  a  little 
time.  It  was  necessary  that  I  should  go  at  once.  But  what 
to  do  with  the  image  of  Our  Lady?  If  I  write  to  Monsieur 
Girard,  I  reasoned,  he  will  never  consent  to  let  me  take  it,  and 


820  THE  IMAGE  OF  OUR  LADY  [Sept., 

leave  it  I  cannot,  as  long  as  Renee  needs  it.  Monsieur,  before 
you  condemn  my  act,  I  ask  you  to  remember  the  seven  years 
of  our  suffering. 

"  Let  the  sin  be  upon  me,"  I  said.  "  I  will  steal  the  image 
until  the  time  when  Renee  has  no  longer  any  need  of  it;  then 
I  myself  will  return  it  to  Monsieur  Girard." 

We  packed  the  little  image  with  great  care,  and  carried  it 
in  our  satchel  lest  it  should  be  injured.  "If  anything  happens 
to  Our  Lady,"  I  said,  "  it  is  the  end  of  both  of  us." 

Imagine,  then,  the  panic  of  my  mind  when  I  opened  the 
satchel  in  Paris  and  found  the  image  in  two  pieces.  Monsieur, 
there  are  not  words  to  describe  the  sickness  I  felt.  It  seemed 
that  life,  which  had  been  so  fair,  had  suddenly  the  darkness 
of  sorrow.  For  what  but  sorrow  could  come  of  a  broken  thing 
that  was  the  joy  of  so  many  lives.  I  called  for  Renee,  and 
when  she  saw  it  the  tears  started  down  her  cheeks. 

"  It  was  the  porter  at  Cherbourg,"  she  consoled  me.  "  I  saw 
him  put  the  satchel  in  the  rack." 

You  see,  monsieur,  the  crack,  which  was  visible  only  in  the 
hem  of  the  Virgin's  robe,  really  extended  clear  through  the 
image,  and  the  jar  occasioned  by  a  careless  porter  broke  it 
exactly  in  the  place  where  it  had  been  broken  before.  The 
dust  of  many  years  must  have  lodged  in  the  crack  to  have 
covered  it  so  completely. 

And  now  we  have  arrived  at  that  happening  which  seems 
to  me  a  miracle.  For  you  must  know  that  the  image  was  hol- 
low, and  contained  a  little  sack  of  silk.  And  the  significance 
of  the  little  sack  of  silk?  Monsieur,  there  was  in  it  the  second 
will  of  your  father.  Grace  a  Dieu  you  have  again  that  which 
is  your  soul.  Monsieur  Sceptique,  your  intellect's  answer? 

We  have  established  ourselves  in  the  Rue  Leopold-Robert. 
You  know  it  well;  it  is  in  that  part  of  Paris  which  is  a  part 
of  yourself.  And  in  our  petite  maison  there  is  one  room  that 
awaits  an  occupant.  It  has  character,  that  little  room.  An 
open  fire  greets  you.  The  chairs,  though  French,  solicit  your 
repose.  The  books  are  friendly,  and  the  pictures  beckon  the 
mind  to  the  infinite  spaces.  The  mantel  is  of  a  design  that  will 
stir  your  memories;  it  is  worthy  the  image  of  Our  Lady, 
which  rests  upon  it. 

Do  not  trouble  to  sell  your  stock,  monsieur.  Time  spent 
apart  from  that  which  one  loves  is  time  misspent.  But  bring 
the  books  you  cannot  leave,  turn  the  key  in  your  door  and  come. 

Your  children, 

REN£E  AND  NEIL. 


IRew  Boohs. 


HISTORY  OF  ROME  AND  THE  POPES  IN  THE  MIDDLE 
AGES.  By  Hartmann  Grisar,  SJ.  Translated  by  Luigi 
Cappadelta.  Vol.  III.  St.  Louis:  B.  Herder.  $4.50. 
This  third  volume  of  Father  Grisar's  critical  History  of  Rome 
and  the  Popes  brings  us  to  the  sixth  century,  or,  as  he  calls  it, 
the  Close  of  the  Ancient  World.  It  begins  with  a  brief  sketch 
of  Western  monasticism  and  its  relations  with  the  Holy  See.  He 
speaks  of  the  two  abuses  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries,  the  Monachi 
Gyrovagi,  worldly,  self-willed  monks  who  kept  traveling  from 
monastery  to  monastery,  and  the  Sarabaitce,  who  lived  in  small 
groups  of  two  or  three  without  any  ecclesiastical  superior.  He 
brings  out  clearly  the  successful  efforts  of  St.  Benedict  to  re-es- 
tablish Western  monasticism  upon  firmer  ground  by  means  of  a 
mild  and  wise  rule,  which  left  a  great  deal  to  the  free  will  of  the 
individual.  The  whole  constitution  of  the  Order  in  fact  was  an 
outcome  of  the  spirit  of  Christian  Rome.  The  Popes,  therefore, 
from  Gregory  the  Great  onwards  gave  it  the  preference. 

In  discussing  the  relations  of  Pope  Vigilius  with  the  Emperor 
Justinian,  Father  Grisar  shows,  against  many  non-Catholic  con- 
troversialists, that  there  was  no  question  of  making  any  compro- 
mise with  heresy.  Both  could  condemn  the  Three  Chapters  with- 
out any  deviation  from  the  faith.  The  Emperor's  Edict,  which 
was  the  cause  of  the  whole  dispute,  in  no  way  impaired  the  Church's 
doctrine,  but  was  really  issued  from  an  excess  of  zeal  in  favor 
of  the  faith.  The  one  question  that  caused  such  bitterness  at  the 
time  was  this :  "  Was  the  Edict  useful,  or  was  it  not  rather  in- 
judicious, as  actually  tending  to  foment  division,  and  even  schism?  " 
Father  Grisar  devotes  the  major  part  of  his  work  to  describing 
the  churches,  the  Imperial  Forums,  the  pagan  columns  and  obe- 
lisks, and  the  Christian  cemeteries  and  catacombs  of  Rome.  He 
has  some  very  interesting  chapters  on  the  language  and  art  of 
declining  Rome,  the  education  of  the  clergy,  clerical  celibacy, 
ordinations,  the  Christian  counterparts  of  pagan  festivals,  the 
Ember  Days,  the  Lenten  Stations,  and  the  reception  of  converts 
into  the  Church. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  chapter  in  the  volume  is  his 
critical  estimate  of  the  Biblical  apocrypha,  the  Symmachian  For- 


822  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept., 

genes,  the  legends  of  the  martyrs,  and  the  Liber  Pontificalis.  He 
shows  how  zealous  Catholic  scholars  have  been  in  late  years  to  clear 
the  ground  of  history  from  the  legends  which  have  encumbered  it. 
He  writes: 

Certainty  is  after  all  only  to  be  attained  at  the  price  of 
sacrificing  falsehood  to  criticism.  The  sources  which  have  sup- 
plied us  with  material  for  our  History  of  Rome  and  the  Popes 
are  very  different  from  that  fictitious  literature  which  falsely 
claims  the  right  to  rank  among  the  sources  of  history.  Even 
when  we  have  been  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  works  in 
which  truth  is  mingled  with  error,  we  have  at  least  endeavored 
to  sift  conscientiously  what  is  trustworthy  from  that  which  is 
not.  All  we  have  hitherto  said  has  invariably  been  based  on  the 
real  sources  of  historical  knowledge — on  official  and  contem- 
porary documents  of  the  Popes,  on  monuments  which  are  still 
before  our  eyes,  and  on  the  statements  of  the  best  informed  and 
most  veracious  chroniclers.  In  the  future  we  shall  not  allow 
either  fear  or  favor  to  deter  us  from  telling  the  truth  in  its 
entirety.  It  has  been  rightly  said  that  now,  if  ever,  the  history 
of  the  Popes  requires  that  the  truth  should  be  told,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth.  Cassiodorus  points  out  that  everything  stated 
by  the  historian  of  the  Church  is  useful  for  instruction  and 
edification,  and  allows  us  to  see  the  hand  of  Providence  guiding 
the  course  of  human  affairs.  Surely  this  thought  should  en- 
courage us  to  tell  the  truth  under  all  circumstances,  even  when 
by  doing  so  we  may  seem  disrespectful  to  persons  or  institu- 
tions which  we  rightly  hold  in  veneration. 

Chapters  V.  and  VI.  deal  with  the  Roman  Primacy  in  the 
sixth  century,  and  the  Roman  See  and  the  Franks.  Thanks  to 
the  Popes,  the  Church  had  brilliantly  demonstrated  that  she  could 
stand  alone,  though  the  Roman  Empire  upon  which  she  had  once 
reckoned  for  support  was  fast  sinking  into  ruin.  And  not  only  did 
this  mighty  body  preserve  its  footing,  but,  with  the  help  of  the 
spirit  of  unity  infused  into  it  from  Rome,  at  the  downfall  of  the 
ancient  polity  and  civilization,  it  was  able  to  save  for  futurity  the 
best  elements  of  the  past.  The  Popes  persistently  maintained  the 
Church's  unity  in  spite  of  every  attack.  Arianism  was  met  and 
overcome  by  Julius  I.  and  Damasus ;  Pelagianism  by  Innocent  and 
Celestine;  Nestorianism  by  Celestine  and  Xystus  III.,  and  Euty- 
chianism  by  Leo  the  Great  and  his  successors. 

The  volume  is  well  bound  and  well  printed,  and  the  excellent 
illustrations  add  much  to  its  interest.  No  priest  can  afford  to  be 
without  this  scholarly  history. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  823 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  FOUNDATIONS   OF  ST.  TERESA  OF 
JESUS.     Written  by  Herself.     Translated  from  the  Spanish 
by  David  Lewis.     New  and  Revised  Edition,  with  Introduc- 
tion by  Very  Rev.  Benedict  Zimmerman,  Discalced  Carmelite. 
New  York:   Benziger  Brothers.     $2.25  net. 
It  speaks  well  for  the  influence  of  St.  Teresa  in  our  age  and 
country,  that  a  new  edition  of  her  Book  of  Foundations  follows 
closely  upon  the  publication  by  The  Columbus  Press  of  her  Auto- 
biography and  the  Foundations  in  one  splendid  volume.     She  draws 
the  more  meditative  spirits  irresistibly;  and  David  Lewis'  English 
versions  of  her  writings  must  ever  possess  unchallenged  preemi- 
nence.    Father  Zimmerman's  Introduction  is  of  much  value,  espe- 
cially for  ascertaining  dates  and  grouping  persons. 

Our  readers  must  get  and  read  these  books  if  they  would 
understand  how  God  acts  through  women  for  His  highest  purposes : 
for  it  would  be  idle  for  us  to  try  to  impart  even  a  little  of  their 
marvelous  instruction  by  a  summary  of  events  or  a  sketch  of  char- 
acter. The  Book  of  Foundations  brings  us  down  to  St.  Teresa's 
last  months,  almost  to  her  last  days.  It  tells  how  she  worked  to 
the  end  with  the  miraculous  fortitude  with  which  she  began  years 
before.  Her  final  foundation  of  the  Carmel  of  Burgos  was  made 
in  the  first  half  of  1852,  the  year  she  died.  Returning  from  this 
work,  towards  Avila,  she  met  death  at  Alba  de  Tormes,  October  4th, 
having  been  foully  treated  by  the  Prioresses  of  two  of  her  former 
foundations,  turned  out  of  doors  at  both  monasteries,  hungry  and 
desolate,  and  forbidden  to  go  to  Avila.  But  the  doors  of  Paradise 
soon  swung  open  for  her  noble  soul,  so  humble  and  so  aggressive,  so 
peaceful  and  so  warlike. 

Let  the  reader  be  content  to  read  on  with  patience  before  criti- 
cizing St.  Teresa's  desultory  style  of  writing.  She  is  apt  to  wander 
from  the  straight  line  of  her  topic,  a  fault  in  most  cases, 
but  in  the  case  of  a  great  teacher  it  may  become  a  virtue  of  style 
and  method  of  the  highest  order.  "  We  have,"  says  Father  Cole- 
ridge, "  everywhere  in  her  writings  a  number  of  most  valuable 
digressions,  and  to  anyone  who  would  try  her  by  the  strict  rules 
of  literary  composition,  she  may  seem  to  wander  about.  But  the 
digressions  of  St.  Teresa  are  worth  more  than  the  direct  and 
formal  reasons  and  discourse  of  others,  and  there  is,  besides,  al- 
ways a  clear  connection  in  what  she  says  with  her  main  subject  " 
(Life  of  St.  Teresa,  vol.  i.,  ch.  xi.). 

The  rule  of  life  observed  and  enforced  by  St.  Teresa  during  her 
many  long  and  wearisome  journeys,  was  to  make  her  little  caravan 


824  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept., 

a  traveling  monastery.  Nothing  was  omitted  from  her  monastic 
rule  that  was  compatible  with  getting  over  the  road  towards  the 
aiew  foundations.  The  nuns  with  her  were  always  well-tried 
religious,  and  were,  with  rare  exceptions,  volunteers;  and 
she  treated  them  as  being  under  serious  obligation  to  them  for 
Coming  with  her.  Before  beginning  any  journey,  all  received  Holy 
Communion.  The  vehicles  were  palanquins — portable  chairs  or 
litters — and  coaches;  but  in  both  the  inmates  were  always  strictly 
curtained  off  from  wayside  gazers.  St.  Teresa  learned  the  need 
of  this  by  once  suffering  some  rudeness  for  lack  of  it.  She  was 
always  accompanied  by  a  chaplain,  usually  Don  Julian  of  Avila, 
a  secular  priest  of  great  piety  and  discretion.  Sometimes  there 
were  other  priests  with  her,  either  because  of  their  interest  in  her 
work,  or  because  they  represented  the  ecclesiastical  authorities. 

Once  the  start  on  the  road  was  made,  the  Saint  and  her  nuns 
behaved  as  if  they  were  in  their  convent.  The  monastic  silence  was 
enforced  rigidly,  not  only  on  the  Sisters,  but  on  the  priests  and  secu- 
lars, including  the  servants.  These  latter  were  very  glad  when  so 
unusual,  and  for  them  so  irksome,  an  observance  as  absolute  silence 
was  over.  She  rewarded  them,  dear  thoughtful  and  generous  soul, 
with  some  special  dishes  at  their  meal  at  the  night's  halt. 

Each  litter  or  carriage  containing  nuns  had  its  superior,  ap- 
pointed both  for  the  sake  of  good  order,  and  as  a  trial  of  how 
those  the  Saint  had  chosen  could  exercise  authority. 

It  sometimes  happened  that  the  journeys,  or  considerable] 
parts  of  them,  were  made  mounted  on  donkeys,  with  pack  mules 
to  carry  the  baggage.  This  gave  scant  opportunity  for  conventual 
observance,  but  abundant  opportunity  for  the  high  virtue  of  pa- 
tience. The  sisters  always  kept  their  veils  down,  and  practised  as 
best  they  might  the  recollection  of  their  state  of  life.  Another 
serious  addition  to  the  hardship  of  these  holy  expeditions,  was 
that  in  the  summer  time  the  cavalcade  often  traveled  by  night 
to  avoid  the  sweltering  heat  of  the  Spanish  dog  days.  This  gave 
rise  to  many  little  and  some  few  perilous  adventures,  terrifying 
at  the  time,  but  highly  amusing  when  afterwards  recalled. 

To  a  highly  developed  contemplative  no  conditions  could  be 
hindrances  to  almost  constant  recollection,  and  our  Saint  was 
specially  gifted  with  a  realization  of  the  Divine  Presence.  Her 
journeys  were  often,  indeed  usually,  times  of  extraordinary  con- 
solations. But  sweet  as  must  have  been  these  communings  with 
heaven,  St.  Teresa  talked  in  proper  season  with,  her  nuns  with 
unaffected  gaiety,  filling  them  with  religious  peace  and  gladness. 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  825 

The  happenings  of  these  slow,  jolting,  often  interrupted  travels, 
were  by  her  turned  pleasantly  to  account,  every  hour  of  wayfaring 
leading  remotely  or  directly  to  some  spiritual  advantage.  She 
was  master  of  all  the  arts,  natural  and  acquired,  of  a  perfect  con- 
versationalist, and  traveling  in  her  company  must  have  had  some 
such  charm  as  the  younger  Tobias  enjoyed  in  his  long  journey 
with  the  Archangel  Raphael.  Her  gentle  sway  was  also  felt  by 
the  rough  muleteers  and  litter  bearers.  Swearing  and  blaspheming 
and  lewd  talking,  common  to  their  class,  were  banished  totally 
from  that  cavalcade,  and  these  rude  men  said  that  the  best  time 
they  ever  had  in  their  lives  was  when  the  holy  Mother  Teresa 
spoke  to  them  from  behind  her  veil  of  the  things  of  God. 

Of  the  installation  of  the  nuns,  when  all  was  done  with  high 
festivity,  our  Saint  gives  a  fine  description  in  her  account  of  the 
foundation  at  Palencia : 

At  last  when  the  house  was  fully  prepared  for  the  nuns,  the 
Bishop  would  have  them  go  there  with  great  solemnity;  and 
accordingly  it  was  done  one  day  within  the  Octave  of  Corpus 
Christi.  He  came  himself  from  Valladolid,  and  was  attended 
by  the  Chapter,  the  religious  orders,  and  almost  the  whole 
population  of  the  place,  to  the  sound  of  music.  We  went 
from  the  house  in  which  we  were  staying,  all  of  us  in  procession, 
in  our  white  mantles,  with  veiled  faces,  to  the  parish  church 
close  to  the  house  of  our  Lady.  Her  image  had  come  for  us, 
and  we  took  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  thence  and  carried  it 
into  our  church  in  great  pomp  and  array,  which  stirred  up 
much  devotion.  There  were  more  nuns,  for  those  who  were 
going  to  make  the  foundation  in  Soria  were  there;  and  we 
all  had  candles  in  our  hands.  I  believe  our  Lord  was  greatly 
honored  that  day  in  that  place.  May  He  grant  that  it  may  be 
always  so  of  all  creatures !  Amen. 

With  this  tumult  of  religious  joy  the  Catholics  of  a  Spanish 
city  in  that  age  enclosed  their  sisters  in  sanctuaries  of  perpetual 
silence  and  solitude,  penance  and  prayer. 

MYSTICAL    CONTEMPLATION,    OR    THE    PRINCIPLES    OF 
MYSTICAL    THEOLOGY.     By    Rev.    Father    E.    Lamballe, 
Eudist.     Translated  by  W.  H.  Mitchell.     New  York:    Ben- 
ziger  Brothers.     $1.00. 
Father  Lamballe  in  his  Introduction  tells  us  that,  in  the  present 

volume,  he  is  setting  forth  the  results  of  a  long  and  conscientious 


826  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept., 

study  of  St.  Teresa,  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  St.  Thomas,  and  St. 
Francis  de  Sales.  He  answers  the  four  following  questions :  What 
is  contemplation?  Who  is  called  thereto?  How  are  contempla- 
tives  to  be  dealt  with  ?  Through  what  stages  may  they  be  expected 
to  pass? 

From  the  seventeenth  century  many  spiritual  writers  have  con- 
fused contemplation  with  graces  gratis  data.  St.  Thomas  in  the 
Summa  held  that  contemplation  is  a  result  of  the  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Some  recent  writers  teach  that  in  contemplation  occur  acts 
which  are  specifically  different  from  those  we  are  able  to  achieve 
by  means  of  ordinary  graces.  Father  Lamballe  endeavors  to  prove, 
against  Father  Poulain,  that  contemplation  is  not  extraordinary  in 
itself.  St.  John  of  the  Cross  teaches  clearly  that  perfect  mystical 
union,  to  which  he  desired  to  direct  the  soul,  consists  in  the  total 
losing  of  one's  will  in  God  by  love,  and  that  to  attain  this  love  there 
is  a  way,  and  one  way  only,  which  leads  on  to  the  very  end,  and 
that  is  the  way  of  faith.  While  we  must  not  expect  to  find  in 
St.  Teresa's  writings  philosophical  explanations  of  the  same  pre- 
cision as  in  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  her  description  of  spiritual 
phenomena  is  as  exact  and  as  living.  We  find  her  constantly 
opposing  mystical  knowledge  to  vision.  "  Contemplation,"  says  St. 
Francis  de  Sales,  "  is  nothing  but  an  attention  of  mind  to  things  di- 
vine, directed  thereto  with  loving  simplicity  and  constancy."  In 
his  second  chapter  our  author  finds  fault  with  those  who  maintain 
that  contemplation  is  only  for  a  few  privileged  souls,  and  that 
meditation  is  the  most  sure  way  to  holiness. 

These  men  as  directors  are,  he  declares,  an  obstacle  to  grace; 
they  strongly  bind  to  earth  those  who  desire  to  fly  to  heaven.  The 
author's  views  on  the  point  are  well  expressed  in  the  words  of  St. 
Francis  de  Sales:  "The  desire  to  obtain  love  makes  us  meditate, 
but  love  once  obtained  makes  us  contemplate."  Contemplation, 
therefore,  is  the  normal  goal  of  the  spiritual  life:  souls  who  are 
eager  for  perfection  have  a  right  to  try  to  secure  it,  and  their 
spiritual  directors  should  prepare  them  for  it. 

Chapter  III.  deals  with  the  general  direction  of  contemplatives, 
and  the  final  chapter  with  the  various  phases  of  contemplation. 

This  is  a  good  book  for  all  priests  who  are  directors  of  souls. 
It  will  also  prove  useful  to  mother-superiors  and  novice-mistresses. 
Father  Lamballe  is  a  whit  dogmatic  at  times  in  his  controversies 
with  other  Catholic  writers,  but  he  may  be  pardoned  his  excess  of 
zeal  in  so  good  a  cause.  He  seems  to  forget  that  his  opponents  have 
the  same  guides  as  himself. 


1913.]  HEW  BOOKS  827 

WILLIAM  GEORGE  WARD  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  REVIVAL. 

By  Wilfrid  Ward.     Re-issue  with  a  new  Preface.     New  York : 

Longmans,  Green  &  Co.     $2.40  net. 

The  great  interest  taken  by  the  public  in  the  recently-published 
Life  of  Cardinal  Newman,  makes  the  present  reprint  most  oppor- 
tune, for  as  Wilfrid  Ward  says  in  his  Preface :  "  The  events  it  re- 
lates belong  to  the  same  period  as  that  covered  by  Newman's  life, 
but  the  view  of  the  theological  problems  and  ecclesiastical  politics 
of  the  time,  which  it  presents  most  fully,  is  the  opposite  one  to 
Newman's.  It  contains  also  a  full  account  of  Newman's  personal 
relations  with  my  father." 

There  is  no  need  to  praise  the  fairness,  breadth  of  view,  and 
accurate  scholarship  that  characterizes  this  master  of  biography. 
Some  think  him  too  honest  by  far ;  others  of  the  ultra-conservative 
school  look  upon  him  with  the  utmost  suspicion.  We  are  glad 
to  record  ourselves  in  perfect  sympathy  with  his  biographical 
method. 

FIVE  CENTURIES  OF  ENGLISH  POETRY.     From  Chaucer  to 

de  Vere.     By  Rev.  George  O'Neill,  S. J.,  M.A.     New  York : 

Longmans,  Green  &  Co.     $1.25  net. 

In  his  very  practical  and  readable  Introduction,  Father  O'Neill, 
Professor  of  English  at  University  College,  Dublin,  offers  his 
apologia  for  what — given  the  variety  of  taste  and  the  immensity 
of  the  subject — scarcely  calls  for  apology:  namely,  a  new  anthol- 
ogy of  English  verse.  His  desire  has  been  to  gather  poetic  speci- 
mens useful  mainly  to  literary  students  in  "  a  year's  work  "  on 
the  English  poets,  and  there  can  be  no  question  of  the  breadth, 
variety,  and  substantial  worth  of  his  choice. 

With  the  details  of  any  such  anthology,  it  is  always  possible 
and  often  useful  to  disagree.  For  instance,  we  would  seriously 
question  the  wisdom  of  preserving  The  Weeper,  one  of  Crashaw's 
least  inspired  and  most  excessive  poems,  where  Music's  Duel  or 
the  really  great  hymns  to  "  St.  Teresa  "  or  to  "  The  Name  above 
Every  Name  "  might  have  been  substituted  with  greater  justice 
to  poet  and  student  alike.  Father  O'Neill's  avoidance  of  the  lyric 
is  at  times  so  marked  that  one  half  suspects  some  psychological 
basis  or  prepossession  for  his  evasions.  It  is  easy  to  welcome  four 
cantos  of  the  piquant  artificiality  of  Pope's  Rape  of  the  Lock;  but 
most  readers  will  see  no  very  obvious  reason  to  substitute  the  Tiva 
Dogs  for  Burns'  heart-shaking  little  love  songs,  nor  thirty  pages 


828  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept., 

of  Hellas  in  lieu  of  the  briefer  Shelleyian  song  bursts.  The  scant 
two  pages  devoted,  on  the  other  hand,  to  Shakespeare's  lyrics — 
where  entire  scenes  from  the  plays  would  have  seemed  in  order — 
are  comprehensible  on  the  supposition  (doubtless  existing  in  the 
editor's  mind)  of  an  outside  course  in  the  king  dramatist. 

In  spite  of  these  reservations,  it  is  welcome  to  find  a  one- 
volume  anthology  which  does  not  neglect  Southwell  or  Donne, 
which  finds  room  for  Blake's  curious  raptures,  and  which  includes — 
beside  the  inevitable  names — fragments  from  such  radically  dis- 
similar poets  as  Mangan,  Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  and  Aubrey  de  Vere. 
Had  the  Catholic  strain  been  traced  a  few  decades  further,  we 
might  have  been  offering  thanksgivings  for  a  few  pages  of  Patmore, 
or  perchance  the  Hound  of  Heaven! 

A    NEW    VARIORUM    EDITION    OF    SHAKESPEARE.     The 

Tragedie  of  Julius  Caesar.  Edited  by  Horace  Howard  Fur- 
ness,  Jr.  Philadelphia :  J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.  $4.00. 
American  scholarship  may  well  be  proud  of  Furness'  edition  of 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare.  Even  an  Englishman  will  admit  that  it 
is  the  best  and  most  complete  edition  for  student  and  actor  that  we 
possess.  Now  that  the  father  is  dead,  the  son  who  assisted  him 
for  many  years,  and  contributed  two  volumes  to  the  series,  will 
continue  the  work  as  originally  planned.  The  earliest  text  of 
Julius  Caesar  is  that  of  the  first  folio.  It  is  markedly  free  from 
corruptions,  and  we  might  almost  say  that  in  but  one  or  two 
instances  would  an  earlier  quarto  text  be  required  to  render  any 
doubtful  readings  more  sure.  By  several  of  the  older  editors  Julius 
Caesar  is  considered  as  one  of  Shakespeare's  later  plays;  but  the 
range  of  dates  of  composition  stretches  from  1599  as  the  earliest, 
down  to  and  including  1608.  Shakespeare's  indebtedness  to  Sir 
Thomas  North's  translation  of  Plutarch  for  the  plot  of  his  tragedy, 
and  for  countless  details,  has  been  universally  admitted.  His  use 
of  the  lives  of  Caesar,  Brutus,  and  Antonius  makes  us  realize 
Shakespeare's  marvelous  ingenuity  in  dramatic  construction.  For 
purposes  of  comparison,  the  editor  prints  in  the  Appendix  a  tran- 
script from  Leo's  facsimile  of  those  portions  of  North's  Plutarch 
(ed.  1595),  on  which  the  incidents  of  the  tragedy  are  based,  but 
throughout  the  commentary  references  are  made  to  the  passages 
in  Skeat's  Plutarch,  which  gives  us  the  text  of  the  edi- 
tion of  1603.  It  is  very  improbable  that  Shakespeare  consulted 
either  Suetonius'  Lives  of  the  Ccesars,  or  Dion  Cassius'  Annals  of 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  829 

the  Roman  People,  but  Furness  is  of  the  opinion  that  certain  points 
in  Antony's  oration  over  Caesar  were  taken  from  Appian's  Civil 
Wars. 

Strangely  enough,  the  Caesar  of  Plutarch — the  intrepid  warrior, 
the  astute  statesman,  and  the  sagacious  governor — becomes  in 
Shakespeare's  hands  "  a  braggart,  inflated  with  the  idea  of  his  own 
importance,  and  speaking  of  his  decrees  as  those  of  a  god." 

The  themes  of  the  action  [as  the  editor  points  out  in  his 
Preface]  are  the  conflict  in  the  mind  of  Brutus  between  two 
opposing  interests — love  of  country  and  love  of  Caesar  as  friend 
and  benefactor;  his  decision  to  sacrifice  that  friend  upon  the 
altar  of  his  country;  and  his  tragic  suicide  in  ignorance  of  his 
complete  failure  as  a  patriot.  It  would  seem  as  though  Brutus 
were  rightly  the  titular  hero.  The  bodily  presence  of  Caesar, 
it  is  true,  disappears  from  the  scene  at  the  beginning  of  the  third 
act,  yet  thereafter  his  spiritual  presence  is  omnipresent,  and 
brings  about  the  final  catastrophe. 

The  editor  gives  throughout  every  reading  of  the  text,  ex- 
plains every  peculiar  grammatical  construction,  and  records  all  the 
different  commentaries  on  difficult  passages.  At  the  close  of  the 
volume,  he  gives  sketches  of  the  various  characters  in  the  play 
by  English  and  Continental  scholars,  criticisms  of  the  play,  its  stage 
history,  the  different  dramatic  versions,  and  a  very  complete 
bibliography. 

LACORDAIRE.     By  Count  D'Haussonville.     Translated  by  A.  W. 

Evans.     St.  Louis:   B.  Herder.     $1.00. 

In  his  Preface,  the  author  gives  three  reasons  why  the  life 
of  Lacordaire  should  be  of  interest.  First,  that  he  was  the  great- 
est pulpit  orator  France  ever  produced  with  the  exception  of  Bos- 
suet  ;  then  the  ideal  character  of  the  man  himself,  and  finally  as  one 
of  the  precursors  and  authors  of  that  Catholic  renaissance  of 
which  our  contemporaries  to-day  are  the  surprised  witnesses.  In- 
deed, among  all  the  questions  that  engage  and  divide  us  to-day,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  name  one  that  was  not  anticipated  and  debated 
by  Lacordaire. 

Those  who  have  read  the  Abbe  Chocarne's  Inner  Life  of  Lacor- 
daire, or  Foisset's  biography,  will  discover  little  new  in  the  present 
volume.  We  have  a  brief  sketch  of  Lacordaire's  childhood  and 
youth ;  his  seminary  days ;  the  story  of  the  Avenir  and  his  rupture 


83o  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept, 

with  Lamennais;  the  Stanislas  lectures  and  the  Sermons  at  Notre 
Dame;  the  restoration  of  the  Order  of  St.  Dominic  in  France,  etc. 

Lacordaire  was  an  indefatigable  correspondent,  as  the  eight 
volumes  of  his  published  letters  testify.  He  unburdens  himself 
with  quite  a  filial  confidence  to  that  illustrious  convert,  Madame 
Swetchine;  he  speaks  of  the  things  of  God  to  his  penitent,  the 
Baroness  de  Frailly;  he  writes  vigorous  letters  to  the  Bishop  of 
Paris,  Monsignor  de  Quelen,  to  prove  the  hollowness  of  the  com- 
plaints that  had  been  made  against  his  preaching;  he  writes  most 
touching  letters  to  Lamennais,  and  to  Montalembert  at  the  time 
of  the  Avenir  difficulty,  letters  which  show  an  almost  incredible 
ardor;  indeed  they  are  among  the  finest  and  most  touching  that 
the  love  of  souls  has  ever  inspired. 

The  success  of  his  Lenten  course  at  Lyons  in  1845  outstripped 
anything  he  had  obtained  before.  The  enthusiasm  rose  to  a  de- 
lirium. One  evening  he  did  not  appear  at  dinner.  Someone  went 
to  look  for  him,  and  found  him  pale  and  in  tears  at  the  foot  of  a 
crucifix.  "  What  is  the  matter,  Father?  "  he  was  asked.  "  I  am 
afraid,"  was  the  answer.  "  Afraid  of  what?  "  "  Of  success,"  he 
replied.  Many  a  time  he  prepared  for  his  sermon  by  scourging 
himself  in  the  privacy  of  his  cell. 

Harsh  to  himself,  he  was  always  gentle  to  others.  He  knew 
how  to  show  to  weak  souls  the  consideration  they  needed,  and 
to  lead  them  along  easy  paths.  Still  direction,  properly  so-called, 
did  not  hold  the  principal  place  in  his  life,  which  was  rather  militant 
and  aggressive.  Some  of  his  enemies  have  said  that  he  never  con- 
verted anybody,  but  we  know  on  the  contrary  that  he  influenced 
countless  souls  for  God,  both  clerical  and  lay.  It  was  Lacordaire's 
winning  personality  that  won  Father  Jandel  to  the  Dominican 
Order,  and  led,  therefore,  indirectly  to  its  great  reform  and  revival 
in  the  nineteenth  century. 

As  a  pulpit  orator,  Lacordaire  was  an  improvisator.  Not  that 
he  ever  dared  to  enter  the  pulpit  of  Notre  Dame  without  having 
prepared  his  discourse,  but  his  preparation  was  the  fruit  of  his 
meditation  of  the  evening  before,  or  of  that  very  morning.  From 
these  meditations  nothing  written  ever  resulted,  except  a  very  short 
sketch.  The  one  sermon  he  wrote  out  word  for  word  was  almost 
a  perfect  failure.  His  plan  alone  was  determined  beforehand,  and 
only  in  its  broad  outlines,  never  in  detail.  He  trusted  to  the 
inspiration  of  the  moment  for  the  literary  form.  He  was  often  a 
bit  rhetorical,  his  metaphors  were  occasionally  incoherent,  and  he 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  831 

took  pleasure  in  using  doubtful  and  dangerous  arguments.  Still 
withal  no  one  appealed  as  he  did  to  the  people  of  Paris;  no  one 
ever  seemed  to  dive  down  so  deeply  into  the  hearts  of  his  hearers. 
We  can  never  judge  him  by  the  written  records  of  his  sermons, 
which  are  not  in  the  slightest  degree  remarkable.  The  translation 
of  this  life  is  very  well  done. 

THE  DOMINICAN  REVIVAL  IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CEN- 
TURY. By  Father  Raymund  Devas,  O.P.  New  York: 
Longmans,  Green  &  Co.  $1.25  net. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  religious  Orders 
everywhere  were  lacking  in  zeal  and  devotion.  Strict  discipline 
and  regular  observance  were  conspicuous  by  their  absence.  The 
Dominicans  were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  The  Order  had  declined 
and  sickened,  and  in  many  countries  pessimists  were  not  wanting 
who  thought  the  malady  was  mortal.  In  July,  1846,  Cardinal 
Newman  asked,  in  a  letter  to  Dalgairns,  whether  the  Dominican 
Order  was  "  a  great  idea  extinct."  In  1804  Pius  VII.  had  freed  all 
the  religious  Orders  in  Spain  from  the  Roman  jurisdiction,  a  ruling 
which  applied  to  South  America  and  the  Philippine  Islands.  In 
England  the  outlook  was  so  black  in  1810  that  some  of  the  Fathers 
at  the  Hinckley  Chapter  thought  of  disbanding  the  Province.  In 
France  the  men  who  followed  Lacordaire  into  the  Order  in  1840, 
with  a  view  to  its  restoration,  soon  saw  for  themselves  to  what 
practices,  contradictions,  and  actual  decadence  even  the  best-in- 
tentioned  men  can  be  led  when  they  throw  off  the  noble  yoke  of 
the  Constitutions  of  their  Order. 

Pius  IX.,  fully  aware  of  these  conditions,  chose  Father  Alex- 
ander Vincent  Jandel  in  1850  to  restore  the  Order  to  its  primitive 
purity.  No  better  selection  could  have  been  made.  Father  Jandel 
understood  perfectly  well  that  only  one  means  or  method  could 
enable  the  Order  to  fulfill  satisfactorily  its  sacred  and  salutary 
mission,  and  that  was  an  avowed  return  to  the  original  idea  incar- 
nate in  St.  Dominic  and  his  first  companions.  Father  Jandel's 
plan  was  to  endeavor  to  have  in  every  Province  at  least  one  house 
of  strict  observance,  where  novices  might  be  trained,  and  where  the 
Fathers  zealous  for  reform  might  live  for  a  time.  The  first  house 
of  observance  aroused  a  great  storm  of  criticism,  dissension,  and 
active  opposition.  The  General  had  insisted  upon  the  night  office, 
and  the  abstinence  in  the  refectory,  but  otherwise  he  was  lenient 
enough.  Still  he  was  nicknamed  by  his  opponents  the  "  Great 


832  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept., 

Tiger."  This  did  not  worry  him  in  the  least.  In  1852,  to  appease 
the  malcontents,  the  hour  for  Matins  was  left  to  the  discretion 
of  the  local  Superiors,  although  the  midnight  office  was  to  continue 
at  St.  Sabina's. 

One  of  the  chief  methods  adopted  by  the  General  was  frequent 
visitation  of  the  Provinces.  His  visits  were  primarily  visits  of 
inspection,  and  his  influence  consisted  chiefly  in  the  example  that 
he  gave  of  poverty,  kindness,  charity,  and  the  spirit  of  prayer. 

In  1855  the  Pope  appointed  Father  Jandel  Master- General  for 
six  years,  and  at  the  end  of  this  term  he  was  elected  by  the  votes 
of  the  Order.  At  the  General  Chapter  of  1871  a  new  edition  of 
the  Constitutions  was  published,  and  in  1872  the  Pope  annulled 
the  decree  of  Pius  VII.,  and  restored  the  Order  to  unity.  Father 
Jandel  could  now  chant  his  Nunc  Dimittis  without  reserve.  He  died 
in  Rome  on  December  n,  1872. 

THE  APOSTLE  OF  CEYLON— FATHER  JOSEPH  VAZ,  1651 

TO  1711.     Translated  from  the  French  by  Ambrose  Cator. 

New  York :  Benziger  Brothers.     60  cents  net. 

This  life  of  Father  Vaz,  the  St.  Francis  Xavier  of  Ceylon, 
is  an  abridgment  of  a  life  published  in  Lisbon  in  1745  by  Father 
Sebastian  Rego,  an  Oratorian  of  Goa.  Father  Vaz,  like  his  biog- 
rapher, was  a  Concani  Indian  of  the  Brahmin  caste.  From  the 
earliest  days  of  his  priesthood  at  Goa,  he  felt  a  divine  call  to  labor 
among  the  abandoned  Christians  and  pagans  of  Ceylon.  The  Dutch 
had  captured  Colombo  in  1656  and  Jaffna  in  1658,  and  once  in 
possession  of  Portuguese  territory,  had  inaugurated  a  most  bitter 
persecution  against  the  Church.  Catholics  were  compelled  to  attend 
Protestant  services,  their  churches  were  closed,  and  their  priests 
banished.  Some  few  descendants  of  the  Portuguese  settlers  and 
some  of  the  Singalese  converts  from  Buddhism  continued  to  meet 
privately  in  their  homes  to  recite  the  rosary,  but  the  majority  either 
left  Ceylon  altogether,  or  fled  to  the  neighboring  territory  of  the 
King  of  Kandy. 

Father  Vaz  entered  Jaffna  in  disguise  in  1687,  and  for  five 
years  said  Mass,  administered  the  sacraments,  and  baptized  many 
converts  despite  the  Dutch  penal  laws.  In  1692  he  extended  his 
missionary  labors  to  Kandy,  and  gained  the  favor  of  the  Buddhist 
king,  Vimala-Dharma,  although  he  was  bitterly  opposed  by  the 
intolerant  bonzes.  He  established  missions  all  over  the  island,  and 
won  the  love  of  the  natives  by  his  care  for  the  sick  and  poor, 


I9I3-]  NEW  BOOKS  833 

his  devotedness  during  the  plague,  and  his  heroic  life  of  unceasing 
labor  and  self-denial.  If  all  the  miracles  recorded  by  his  biographer 
can  one  day  be  verified,  we  may  look  forward  confidently  to  his 
Canonization.  The  book  unfortunately  is  poorly  written. 

THE  THEORY  OF  EVOLUTION  IN  THE  LIGHT  OF  FACTS. 

By  Karl  Frank,   SJ.     With  a  chapter  on  Ant  Guests  and 

Termite  Guests  by  Erich  Wasmann,   S.J.     Translated  from 

the  German  by  C.  T.  Druery.     London :  Kegan  Paul,  Trench, 

Trubner  &  Co.     $1.50. 

"  The  object  of  the  present  work,"  says  the  author  in  his 
Preface,  "  is  to  throw  some  light  on  the  theory  of  descent.  Among 
many  of  the  students  of  nature  of  the  present  day,  we  perceive 
that  greater  and  greater  contradictions  arise  between  the  actual 
results  of  their  technical  work,  and  that  which  they  put  forth  as 
'postulates'  of  the  theory  of  evolution.  Our  object  is  to  deal  with 
this.  The  certain  or  the  probable  should  be  separated  from  the 
pure  postulates,  and  the  actual  area  of  elucidation  of  the  hypotheses 
of  Evolution  be  thereby  clearly  defined." 

Part  I.  discusses  the  results  of  palceontological  research. 
Father  Frank  shows  clearly  that  the  fossil  remains  of  plants 
and  animals  say  nothing  conclusive  for  or  against  evolution.  Ac- 
cording to  the  present  position  of  science,  there  is  no  unlimited 
transformation  in  the  animal  world,  and  palaeolithic  botany 
affords  no  proof  of  any  one  group,  family,  or  class  having  been 
developed  from  lower  forms. 

His  method  of  study  is  twofold  in  view  of  a  true,  scientific 
hypothesis.  "  In  the  first  place  we  have  to  inquire,  by  observation 
of,  and  experiment  with,  the  organisms  of  to-day,  whether  they 
are  generally  capable  of  transformation,  what  causes  are  thereby 
involved,  and  of  what  kind  are  the  changes  ascertained."  Then 
we  are  to  "imagine  the  same  causes  as  effective  in  the  past,  alone  or 
in  connection  with  other  influences  of  similar  kind,  and  then  to  com- 
pare the  chronologically  successive  organisms  of  ascertainable  form 
and  structural  conditions  with  those  still  subject  to  observation." 

Our  author  then  proceeds  to  prove  the  following  theses: 

1.  We  are  not  justified  in  regarding  the  origin  of  organisms 
on  our  earth  as  the  result  of  an  evolutionary  process. 

2.  Between   organisms   and    inorganic   material    there    is    an 
essential  difference,  so  that  the  inorganic  material  cannot  develop 
itself  into  an  organism. 

VOL.  xcvii. — 53 


834  AT£^  BOOKS  [Sept., 

3.  The  attempts  to  demonstrate  as  possible  a  genetic  connection 
between  vivified  and   non-vivified  matter,   must  be   regarded   as 
perfectly  vain. 

4.  No  organization,  which  is  regarded  only  as  a  peculiar  chem- 
ico-physical  quality  or  structure  of  inorganic  matter,  explains  life. 

5.  The  attempts  to  express  the  process  of  evolution  in  concrete 
form,  demonstrate  the  impossibility  of  spontaneous  generation. 

6.  We  are  not  justified  in  bringing  animals  and  plants  into 
genetic  connection. 

Part  III.  deals  with  the  theories  of  Lamarck  and  Darwin,  and 
makes  some  suggestions  for  reliable  hypotheses  of  evolution. 
"  Theories  of  evolution,"  concludes  Father  Frank,  "  will  remain, 
since  everything  points  to  the  fact  that  there  was  and  is  an  evolution 
of  the  organic  world.  This  evolution,  however,  does  not  express 
itself  in  quite  impossible  spontaneous  leaps  from  the  inorganic  to 
the  organic,  or  from  plants  to  animals,  and  also  not  in  objectless 
hither-and-thither  variation,  but  in  a  constant  maintenance  of  the 
harmony  between  construction  and  function  and  the  external  con- 
ditions of  life,  and  in  the  constant  development  of  the  bases,  since 
bases  must  exist,  as  the  result  is  always  in  one  direction,  viz.,  the 
purposeful,  the  vitally  capable. 

The  translator  is  the  possessor  of  the  Victoria  gold  medal  of 
honor  in  horticulture,  but  he  certainly  does  not  deserve  a  medal 
for  his  translation  of  Father  Frank's  scholarly  volume. 

A   HUNDRED   YEARS    OF  IRISH    HISTORY.     By   R.    Barry 

O'Brien,  with  an  Introduction  by  John  E.  Redmond,  M.P. 

New  York :  P.  J.  Kenedy  &  Sons.     60  cents  net. 

This  story  of  the  hundred  years  (1800-1900)  was  originally 
delivered  as  a  lecture  before  the  Irish  Literary  Society  of  London. 
It  is  a  judicial  arraignment  of  the  ignorance  and  ineptitude  which 
have  in  every  generation  characterized  English  misrule  in  Ireland. 
We  recommend  it  as  wholesome  reading  to  those  English  opponents 
of  Home  Rule  who  are  comforting  themselves  with  the  reflection 
that  they  afe  righteous  men  and  just,  though  their  ancestors  did 
govern  Ireland  infamously  in  the  sixteenth,  seventeenth  and  eight- 
eenth century. 

This  interesting  summary  shows  clearly  why  all  English  at- 
tempts to  reconcile  the  Irish  people  to  English  rule  have  utterly 
failed.  It  is  a  tale  of  bad  faith,  broken  promises,  inane 
and  even  criminal  legislation.  England  never  granted  any  con- 


1913.]  NEW  BOOKS  835 

cession,  except  under  the  stress  of  mortal  fear.  An  Irishman  once 
said  very  aptly :  "  That  the  only  chance  you  had  of  making  an 
impression  on  an  English  minister  was  by  coming  to  him  with  the 
head  of  a  landlord  in  one  hand,  and  the  tail  of  a  cow  in  the  other." 
Fenianism  brought  on  Church  disestablishment  in  Ireland,  and  begot 
the  Land  Act  of  1870. 

Barry  O'Brien  describes  in  brief  the  Tithe  War  of  1830-1835, 
that  perfect  illustration  of  what  Mr.  Redmond  styles  "  the  policy 
of  Hell  and  Bedlam  combined;"  the  Repeal  Movement  of  1841- 
1846,  which  rooted  the  idea  of  an  Irish  Parliament  in  the  heart 
of  the  Irish  nation;  the  iniquitous  land  system  which  kept  Irishmen 
on  the  verge  of  pauperism,  and  sent  millions  of  peasants  to  foreign 
lands;  the  Young  Ireland  movement  and  the  Rising  of  '48;  the 
beginnings  of  the  Home  Rule  agitation,  etc. 

At  the  end  of  the  volume,  the  author  thanks  the  Irish  of  the 
United  States  "  who  have  so  generously  helped  the  Irish  at  home, 
financially  and  politically."  Despite  Erin's  sorrowful  past,  he  does 
not  take  a  gloomy  view  of  the  future.  He  writes :  "  I  have  faith 
in  my  race.  I  believe  that  the  qualities  which  have  preserved  the 
Irish  Celt,  under  oppression  and  persecutions  scarcely  paralleled  in 
the  history  of  any  other  civilized  country,  will  preserve  him  to  the 
end." 

A  PRIMER  OF  SOCIAL  SCIENCE.  By  Monsignor  Parkinson, 
D.D.,  Ph.D.,  Rector  of  Oscott  College,  Birmingham.  New 
York:  The  Devin-Adair  Co.  $1.00  net. 
In  a  generation  now  passing  away,  social  science  was  often 
called  a  dismal  science — and  not  undeservedly.  What  science  could 
be  more  dismal  than  one  which  declared  in  effect  that  business  was 
business;  that  morality  was  morality,  and  that  these  two  things 
should  be  kept  apart  in  the  life  of  every  sensible  man.  Thank 
God  we  are  coming  out  of  the  dismal  atmosphere !  "  You  cannot 
humbug  all  the  people  all  the  time."  In  Monsignor  Parkinson's 
valuable  little  book,  we  have  a  perfectly  simple  statement  of  the 
moral  principles  which  should  guide  the  daily  conduct  of  every 
business  man.  These  principles  are  neither  new  nor  peculiar,  for 
they  have  always  been  taught  by  the  Church,  and  they  have  always 
been  practised  by  good  Catholics.  But  it  is  urgently  necessary 
that  they  should  be  set  forth  again  and  again,  in  season  and  out 
of  season,  as  well  for  the  benefit  of  those  within  the  Church 
as  for  the  benefit  of  those  without.  Many  who  are  not  Catholics 


836  NEW  BOOKS  [Sept., 

may  have  heard  them  partially  or  not  at  all;  while  we  who  are 
Catholics  are  not  a  little  in  danger  of  forgetting  them  under  the 
constant  assault  of  so  much  contrary  opinion  and  practice. 

Having  clearly  set  forth  these  first  great  spiritual  principles, 
Monsignor  Parkinson  proceeds  to  review  our  modern  social  con- 
ditions, and  to  test  them  by  these  principles.  His  work  is  char- 
acterized by  brevity  and  conciseness;  it  is  the  work  of  a  sound 
economic  student  and  of  an  authoritative  theologian.  Every  Eng- 
lish-speaking layman  should  read  it. 

THE  ROMAN  CURIA.     By  Michael  Martin,   SJ.     New  York: 

Benziger  Brothers.     $1.50  net. 

Father  Martin,  Professor  of  Canon  Law  at  the  St.  Louis 
University,  has  written  a  full  and  accurate  account  of  the  Roman 
Curia  as  it  exists  to-day.  The  work  first  appeared  as  a  series  of 
articles  in  the  American  Ecclesiastical  Review,  soon  after  Pope 
Pius  X.  had  reorganized  the  Curia  by  the  Constitution,  Sapienti 
consilio,  June  29,  1908. 

The  author  treats  of  the  eleven  Sacred  Congregations,  the 
three  Tribunals,  and  the  five  Offices  of  the  Curia,  setting  forth 
the  province  assigned  to  each  department,  and  the  method  of  pro- 
cedure in  the  management  of  ecclesiastical  business.  In  the  ap- 
pendices he  publishes  the  full  text  of  the  Sapienti  consilio,  and 
the  latest  decrees  referring  thereunto.  He  also  adds  some  practical 
hints  upon  the  method  of  communicating  with  the  various  depart- 
ments of  the  Roman  Curia,  and  also  some  formulas  of  petitions. 

It  is  a  book  that  every  Catholic  should  read,  for  under  the 
new  canon  law  every  Catholic  is  free  to  have  recourse  to  any 
department  of  the  Curia  whenever  he  wishes. 


firm  name  of  Robert  Appleton  Company,  publishers  of  the 
Catholic  Encyclopedia,  has  been  changed  to  The  Encyclopedia 
Press.  The  name  of  Robert  Appleton  caused  confusion  with  the 
older  house  of  D.  Appleton  &  Company.  The  new  name  will  re- 
move the  possibility  of  such  confusion;  and  the  title  Encyclopedia 
Press  well  fits  the  character  of  the  great  publication  already  com- 
pleted, and  is  suitable  also  for  other  similar  publications. 

FOREIGN  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  VOLUME  on  Bossuet  by  Ferdinand  Brunetiere,  published  by  Hachette 
^\  et  Cie,  Paris,  is  a  compilation  of  all  of  the  famous  critic's  articles, 
reviews,  and  conferences  on  this  subject,  including  the  famous  series  of  lee- 


1913-]  NEW  BOOKS  837 

tures  delivered  at  the  Sorbonne  in  1894.    The  Preface  is  by  Victor  Giraud. 

Islam,  by  Maurice  Landrieux  (Paris:  P.  Lethielleux),  is  a  volume  written 
to  refute  the  false  and  inaccurate  accounts  of  the  Turk  and  his  religion,  which 
were  published  in  France  apropos  of  the  Balkan  war  by  African  colonial 
officials  and  literary  men  like  Pierre  Loti.  Maurice  Landrieux,  who  spent 
many  years  among  the  Mohammedans  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe,  declares 
their  vaunted  piety  merely  external,  their  moral  tone  grossly  sensual,  and  their 
tolerance  a  mere  pretense  due  to  their  lack  of  power.  There  are  about  one 
thousand  converts  to  Catholicism  among  the  Kabyles,  who  have  borne  per- 
secution of  every  kind  with  the  utmost  fortitude. Father  Pierling,  the 

well-known  author  of  Russia  and  the  Holy  See,  discusses  in  a  most  entertaining 
brochure  the  question,  Did  the  Emperor  Alexander  I.  Die  a  Catholic?  Whether 
the  Emperor  died  a  Catholic  will  ever  remain  a  mystery.  But  that  at  various 
times  in  his  life  he  showed  Catholic  tendencies  is  beyond  question.  The  bro- 
chure is  published  by  Gabriel  Beauchesne,  Paris. Bloud  of  Paris  has  pub- 
lished a  Manual  of  Christian  Epigraphy,  by  Rene  Aigrain,  which  contains  over 
four  hundred  Christian  inscriptions  of  the  first  five  centuries,  accompanied  by 
an  accurate  French  translation  and  excellent  critical  notes.  The  author  has 
written  chiefly  for  those  students  of  antiquity  who  are  unacquainted  with  the 
complete  collections  of  De  Rossi  and  Le  Blant. The  same  house  also  pub- 
lishes an  excellent  essay  of  Paul  Lemaire  on  Francis  Bacon.  He  defends  him 
against  the  strictures  of  Liebig  and  de  Maistre,  but  shows  clearly  that  he  was 
not  the  inventor  of  the  inductive  method,  nor  a  savant  of  the  calibre  of  either  da 

Vinci  or  Galileo. Another  publication  of  Bloud  consists  of  two  volumes  of 

their  series  entitled,  Famous  Foreign  Writers — Carlyle  by  Louis  Cazamian,  and 
Henri  Heine  by  Pierre-Gauthiez.  They  are  carefully-written  treatises,  both  from 
the  standpoint  of  biography  and  of  literary  criticism.  A  little  anti-Jewish  preju- 
dice is  noticeable  in  the  sketch  of  Heine.  The  study  of  Carlyle  is  more  ob- 
jective and  philosophical,  as  becomes  a  professor  of  the  Sorbonne. Pierre 

Tequi  of  Paris  has  brought  out  a  popular  little  manual  of  Biblical  difficulties 
by  the  Abbe  Duplessy,  entitled  Matutinaud  Reads  the  Bible.  It  has  no  critical 
value  whatever,  but  gives  a  brief  answer  to  questions  about  the  deluge,  the 
age  of  the  patriarchs,  Josue  and  the  stopping  of  the  sun,  Jonas  and  the  whale,  etc. 

The  Abbe  Broussolle's  course  of  religious  instruction  on  The  Theory  of  the 

Mass,  delivered  last  year  to  his  pupils  at  the  lycee  Michelet  in  Paris,  is  another 
publication  by  Tequi.  Each  chapter  closes  with  a  good  bibliography,  and  a 
number  of  questions  that  bring  out  admirably  the  lessons  learned.  There  are 
fifty  illustrations,  drawn  from  Christian  antiquity,  and  the  masters  of  the  Middle 

Ages. Tequi  also  publishes  two  scholarly  volumes  by  the  Abbe  Paul  Renaudin. 

The  first  is  on  The  Doctrine  of  the  Assumption,  considered  from  the  viewpoint 
of  its  definability.  The  second,  on  Theological  and  Canonical  Questions,  treats 
of  the  Eucharist  in  the  Middle  Ages;  the  Heresy  of  Berenger;  the  Ascetic 
Formation  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas;  the  Religious  Orders;  the  Nomination  to 

Ecclesiastical   Benefices,   and   the   Indult  of   the   Parliament   of   Paris. The 

same  firm  publishes  The  Catholic  Church  in  the  First  Centuries,  by  the  Abbe 
Viellard-Lacharme,  a  series  of  conferences  delivered  in  the  Church  of  Saint- 
Louis-des-Franc.ais  in  Rome  during  the  Lent  of  1912.  They  are  popular,  rather 

than  critical  in  tone. Perrin  &  Co.  of  Paris  reprints  Ernest  Hello's  Man, 

a  well-known  work  of  the  eminent  French  critic  and  litterateur.  It  first  saw 
the  light  in  1871.  The  essays  are  divided  into  three  parts,  Life,  Science,  and  Art. 


pedobfcate. 


Our  Relations  with  the  Nonconformists.  By  the  Rev.  Vin- 
cent McNabb,  O.P.  Nonconformists  is  the  name  given  Protestants 
in  England  who  are  not  members  of  the  Established  Church. 
From  them  we  are  separated  by  an  abyss  which  "  cannot  be  called 
love."  The  cause  of  this  is  ignorance.  Hence  it  is  our  duty 
to  understand  them  and  their  history.  Catholics  have  much  in 
common  with  the  Nonconformists,  and  to  the  Nonconformists  is 
due  much  of  our  present  liberty  in  England  and  the  United  States. 
They  consistently  fought  for  a  "  Free  Church,"  a  church  not  dom- 
inated by  the  State,  and,  in  the  time  of  the  Stuarts,  succeeded  in 
banishing  "  the  last  hope  of  any  effective  royal  administration  of 
an  Established  Church."  Whilst  thus  engaged  they  "  insisted 
largely  on  making  their  religion  enter  into  their  politics."  It  is 
"  altogether  in  the  praise  of  the  Nonconformist  ideal  of  informing 
political  life  with  standards  of  conscience."  In  the  spiritual  life 
Wesley  subordinated  organization  to  the  interior  life,  and  this  was 
not  without  its  effect  on  many  Catholics  who  had  adjusted  their 
lives  "  to  the  ecclesiastical  machinery  in  the  interests  of  getting  on." 

The  membership  of  Nonconformist  bodies  is  decreasing.  A 
large  number  of  those  falling  away  are  drifting  into  agnosticism 
or  indifferentism.  In  spite  of  this  we  can  hope  to  win  many  of 
these  souls  to  the  True  Church.  Their  worship  of  Jesus  as  Savior 
draws  them  to  consider  Him  as  Founder  of  the  Church;  their 
apologetics  resting  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible  only,  throws  their 
minds  back  upon  the  writer;  some  find  that  subjectivism  will  not  do 
in  religion,  and  they  seek  objectivism  in  an  organized  authoritative 
Church;  others  find  that  the  organization  of  anti-Christian  forces 
necessitates  an  organized  Christian  force,  and  for  such  there  must 
be  a  head;  and  finally  the  mystical  element  finds  that  it  must  be 
guided  by  the  masters  of  mysticism.  Quotations  from  writings  and 
statements  of  several  Nonconformists  of  high  standing  plainly 
indicate  the  trend  of  the  religious-minded  among  them.  —  The 
Tablet,  July  19. 

Married  Clerks,  by  Father  Thurston,  S.J.,  considers 
assertions  in  the  Guardian,  the  Ministry  of  Grace  (1901,  by  Dr. 
John  Wordsworth,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  Anglican),  and  volumes 
two  and  three  of  the  History  of  the  English  Church,  edited  by  Dr. 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  839 

Hunt,  to  the  effect  that  prior  to  the  Reformation  celibacy  was 
not  strictly  enforced  upon  the  secular  priesthood.  These  assertions 
are  inferences  based  on  records  proving  the  existence,  especially 
in  the  twelfth  century,  of  persons  described  as  sons  and  daughters 
of  priests,  and  some  few  references  to  priests'  wives.  The  in- 
ferences do  not  follow:  for  the  records  refer  to  wives  of  clerics. 
In  the  Middle  Ages  many  clerics  never  were  ordained  priests,  and 
those  who  were  ordained,  if  they  had  been  married  between  the  re- 
ceiving of  tonsure  which  made  them  clerics  and  ordination  to  the 
priesthood,  separated  from  their  wives  at  the  time  of  ordination 
to  the  sub-diaconate.  Their  wives  were  nevertheless  entitled  to  be 
known  as  such;  the  children  of  the  union  were  in  every  sense  of 
the  word  legitimate.  Many  references  supporting  this  position  are 
given.  Incidentally  a  few  arguments  are  adduced  from  facts  to 
indicate  that  the  truth  is,  that  celibacy  was  required  among  seculars 
at  a  very  early  date. — The  Tablet,  July  26. 

The  Catholic  Press  Abroad.  By  Irene  Hernaman.  In  France 
the  "  Bonne  Presse  "  publishes  upwards  of  twenty-five  papers  and 
magazines,  the  most  important  of  which  is  La  Croix,  with  the 
fourth  largest  circulation  in  the  country.  Other  societies  doing  an 
immense  work  are  "  The  Popular  Action  Society  "  and  the  "  Catho- 
lic Women's  League  of  France."  The  German  Volksverein  is  a 
model  of  press  organizations.  It  edits  eight  periodicals,  and  pub- 
lishes millions  of  pamphlets  yearly.  There  are  about  two  hundred 
and  fifty  Catholic  dailies  in  Germany.  In  Austria  the  Piusverein 
does  practically  the  same  work,  though  on  a  much  smaller  scale. 
Belgian  Catholic  journals  far  outnumber  Socialist  and  anticlerical 
ones.  Thanks  to  the  initiative  of  the  famous  Abbe  Schaepereau, 
there  are  in  Holland  thirteen  Catholic  dailies  and  one  hundred  and 
fifty  periodicals. 

The  many  professional  and  workingmen's  syndicates,  each 
with  its  own  magazine,  form  a  special  feature  of  Catholic  life  in 
Holland.  In  Italy  and  Spain  the  press  propaganda  lacks  that  en- 
thusiastic support  of  the  people  so  characteristic  of  the  countries 
just  mentioned.  The  first  Catholic  daily  in  Switzerland  was 
started  in  1871  against  enormous  obstacles,  but  the  press  flourishes 
there  now.  In  Canada  and  the  United  States  there  are  periodicals, 
but  no  dailies  for  English-speaking  Catholics.  In  the  States  a 
Catholic  Press  Association  was  founded  two  years  ago.  In  all 
countries  (except  Belgium  and  Switzerland  where  one  exists),  a 
central  information  bureau  is  badly  needed.  Without  this,  and  an 


840  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Sept., 

International  News  Agency,  Catholic  Press  endeavors  are  sadly 
handicapped. — The  Month,  August. 

Popular  Education  in  Britain,  France,  and  Germany.  By  Rev. 
T.  Hannan.  The  superiority  of  the  Continental  system  of  educa- 
tion over  the  English  has  been  overestimated.  Practically  the  same 
spirit  of  rivalry  and  imitation  prevails  in  educational  matters  as  in 
national  defence.  In  France  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction 
controls  the  whole  system  from  the  university  to  the  smallest  pri- 
mary school.  Between  the  ages  of  six  and  thirteen,  education  is 
compulsory,  but  the  law  is  difficult  to  enforce.  La  Morale  is  the 
modern  religion  of  the  schools,  and  holds  the  first  place  in  the 
programmes.  The  system  in  France  is  bad  for  religion  and  for 
France. 

In  Germany  the  educational  system  may  be  divided  into  three 
grades:  the  Folk  schools,  which  are  elementary,  correspond  to  the 
English  Board  schools;  the  Real  schools  have  their  counterpart  in 
the  British  Secondary  schools;  but  the  Continuation  schools  are  a 
special  and  admirable  product  of  Germany.  They  originated  in  the 
sixteenth  century  as  Sunday  schools,  with  secular  branches  included. 
Now  classes  are  held  on  week  days  in  the  afternoon;  attendance 
is  compulsory  between  the  ages  of  fourteen  and  seventeen  for  at 
least  two  hours  a  week.  In  this  regard  German  education  is  su- 
perior to  that  in  other  European  countries.  Religious  instruction 
is  insisted  upon  in  the  lowest  schools,  and  is  imparted  by  the  Lutheran 
minister  and  the  parish  priest  to  their  respective  parishioners;  in 
Cologne  the  Catholics  and  the  Lutherans  have  separate  schools, 
both  supported  by  the  government. — Church  Quarterly  Review, 

July. 

Is  the  Confessional  an  Institution  of  the  Middle  Ages?  By  J. 
Tixeront.  M.  C.  Lea,  an  American,  has  claimed  that  confession, 
as  we  have  it  to-day,  owes  its  establishment  to  the  scholastics  and 
especially  to  St.  Thomas.  His  three-volumed  work,  History  of 
Auricular  Confession  and  of  Indulgences  in  the  Latin  Church,  ap- 
peared in  1896.  Harnack,  who  is  more  familiar  with  ancient 
documents  than  M.  Lea,  has  expressed  practically  the  same  opinion. 
And  in  a  recent  article  in  The  Review  of  History  and  Religious 
Literature,  entitled  Did  Pope  Saint  Gregory  Know  of  Confession? 
M.  Andre  Lagardi  also  tries  to  prove  Mr.  Lea's  thesis.  But  what 
is  the  testimony  of  the  past?  If  we  look  back  a  bit  we  find  at  the 
very  end  of  the  eighth  century  Theodolphus,  the  friend  of  Charle- 


1913-]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  841 

magne,  and  Bishop  of  Orleans,  describing  the  mode  of  confessions 
just  as  we  have  it  to-day.  So,  too,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  same 
century  do  St.  Boniface  of  Mayence  (755)  and  St.  Chrodegand, 
Bishop  of  Metz  (742).  The  venerable  Bede,  five  hundred  years 
before  St.  Thomas,  also  openly  speaks  of  the  confessional  just  as 
we  have  it  to-day.  It  is,  therefore,  evident  that  it  was  not  unknown 
in  the  eighth  century.  St.  Isidore  of  Seville,  who  died  in  636,  wrote 
on  confession  in  his  Etymologies  and  his  Ecclesiastical  Offices. 
So  we  may  go  back  through  each  century  and  collect  evidence  from 
Victor  of  Cortenna,  St.  Leo,  St.  John  Climacus,  Origen,  Tertul- 
lian,  St.  Irenseus,  and  a  host  of  others,  to  prove  that,  far  from 
arising  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  confessional  dates  directly  to  Jesus 
Christ  and  Apostolic  times. — Revue  du  Clerge  Frangais,  July. 

The  Tablet  (July  12)  :  The  Plymouth  Congress:  The  report 
of  the  proceedings  of  the  National  Catholic  Congress  gives  the 
inaugural  address  of  Cardinal  Bourne  on  Religious  Indifference,  a 
sermon  preached  by  Abbot  Gasquet  on  the  sufferings  of  Catholics 
in  the  west  of  England,  and  papers  on  Christianity  in  Modern 
England,  and  Catholic  Schools,  by  Father  Martindale,  S.J.,  and 
Monsignor  Bickerstaffe-Drew  (John  Ayscough),  respectively. 

(July  19)  :  Seminaries  in  Rome:  The  Apostolic  Constitution 
consolidating  the  small  seminaries  scattered  about  Rome  into  one 
central  seminary,  known  as  the  Lateran,  is  published.  The  semi- 
nary is  to  serve  as  a  grande  seminaire  for  Rome  and  Italy.  A  petite 

seminaire  is  also  established  at  the  present  Vatican  seminary. 

The  Roman  Correspondent  comments  briefly  on  the  above-men- 
tioned constitution.  He  calls  attention  to  the  civil  funeral  of 
Socialist  Councillor  Montemartini  as  furnishing  a  good  example 
of  the  influence  of  Socialists  over  the  Italians  of  Rome,  even  if 
they  be  Catholics.  Eighty-five  Socialist  and  allied  societies  were 
represented  at  this  funeral,  and  everyone  of  these  will  at  election 
time  "  go  against  the  Church."  "  The  procession  showed  the  ex- 
tent to  which  labor  has  been  organized.  The  political  opinions  of 
their  societies  are,  no  doubt,  in  innumerable  cases,  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  the  conscientious  opinions  of  individual  members.  But 

when  the  time  comes  they  vote,  if  at  all,  as  the  society  directs." 

In  Literary  Notes,  W.  H.  K.  considers  the  extremely  high  praise 
given  in  the  Times  Literary  Supplement  to  the  first  instalment  of 
the  Westminster  Version  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  to  wit,  the 
Epistles  to  the  Thessalonians,  translated  by  Father  Lattey,  S.J. 
The  Times  reviewer  writes :  "  It  is  a  pleasure  to  notice  that  they 


842  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Sept., 

(Father  Lattey's  notes)  are  marked  by  a  desire  to  arrive  at  the 
immediate  purpose  of  St.  Paul,  and  are  free  from  polemical  bias. 
They  give  evidence  of  sound  scholarship,  allied  with  a  frank  accept- 
ance of  modern  critical  results,"  etc.  Attention  is  then  directed  to 
the  Rheims-Douay  version,  "  which  has  its  faults  and  limitations/' 
but  which  has  been  the  subject  of  much  censure  that  is  ignorant 
and  criticism  that  is  unintelligent.  The  reviewer  recognizes  that 
the  necessity  of  following  an  official  version,  i,  e.,  the  Vulgate,  had 
some  advantages  in  point  of  critical  accuracy,  since  the  Vulgate, 
"  in  not  a  few  places,  provided  a  better  text  than  they  would 
have  found  in  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  manuscripts  at  their  dis- 
posals." The  Douay  Version  has  also  a  literary  value  of  its  own, 
according  to  Professor  J.  S.  Phillimore,  writing  in  the  present 
Dublin  Review.  It  represents  the  excellent  English  style  of  pre- 
Elizabethan  days,  which  Elizabeth's  government  attempted  to  de- 
stroy, and  succeeded  in  marring  to  some  extent. 

(August  2)  :  Mr.  Pease's  Little  Bill:  The  new  educational  bill 
introduced  by  the  Liberal  Minister  provides  for  a  small  building 
grant,  and  a  smaller  grant  for  medical  inspection  and  treatment. 
Previously  a  Parliamentary  building  grant  was  illegal.  The  grants 
are  destined  for  the  Council  Schools  in  which  no  dogmatic  religious 
instruction  is  given,  and  indirectly  discriminates  against  denomina- 
tional schools,  which  theoretically  are  supposed  to  be  on  the  same 
footing.  The  latter  class  must  still  provide  their  own  building 
fund.  The  suspicion  is  voiced  that  the  ultimate  purpose  of  the 

Liberals  is  to  foster  the  decline  of  the  denominational  school. 

The  Philosophy  of  Hans,  by  Claude  Harrison,  shows  that  the  fairy 
tales  of  Hans  Andersen  "  contain  a  philosophy,  the  main  thesis  of 
which  "  is  "  that  the  secret  of  happiness  lies  in  the  pleasures  of 
affection  and  a  moderate  sufficiency  of  worldly  goods."  By  his 
own  route  Andersen  reached  St.  Augustine's  conclusion :  "  Our 
heart  is  restless,  O  Lord,  till  it  rest  in  Thee."  Passages  from 
Andersen's  works  are  quoted  bearing  on  the  subject  of  this  paper. 

Catholic  Missions  in  China:    A  paper  read  at  the  Plymouth 

Congress  by  Father  Wolferstan,  S.J.,  recounts  the  difficulties, 
and  some  results  of  the  missionary's  life,  and  the  outlook  of  Catho- 
lic missions  in  China. 

The  Month  (August)  :  A  full  account  of  The  Plymouth  Con- 
gress is  given  by  Rev.  Sydney  F.  Smith.  Although  still  behind 
the  great  dioceses  of  the  Midlands  and  the  North,  the  success  of 
the  recent  National  Congress  in  Plymouth  argues  well  for  its  re- 


1913.]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  843 

ligious  future.  The  prominence  of  the  Catholic  Social  Guild  and 
their  timely  and  practical  discussions,  and  along  the  lines  of  Leo 
XIII.'s  Encyclical,  receives  special  mention.  Other  Societies  and 
Unions  were  also  ably  represented  at  the  Congress,  covering  the 
field  of  social  and  religious  work  incumbent  upon  Catholics. 

The  Dublin  Review  (July)  :  Francis  McCullogh  shows  that 
The  Belgian  Strike,  in  failing  to  obtain  the  abolition  of  plural 
voting,  has  recorded  a  defeat  for  the  workers,  a  fact  acknowledged 
by  the  less  diplomatic  of  the  Socialists.  The  leading  periodicals 
of  Europe  have  approved  the  attitude  of  the  Premier  in  refusing  to 
yield  to  force  and  grant  the  demands  of  the  Socialists.  Belgium, 
although  the  headquarters  of  international  Socialism,  is  to  some 
extent,  also,  the  headquarters  of  international  clericalism.  The- 
oretically Belgian  Socialists  are  not  anticlerical;  practically  they 
are,  yet  the  immediate  prospects  of  Catholicism  in  Belgium  are 

universally  admitted  to  be  bright. Some  Oxford  Essays,  by 

Wilfrid  Ward,  treats  of  Foundations:  A  Statement  of  Christian 
Belief  in  Terms  of  Modern  Thought,  composed  by  seven  Oxford 
men.  Mr.  Ward  enumerates  the  difficulties  proposed  by  science  to 
theology,  and  explains  that  theology  is  not  stultified  by  a  gradual 
transformation  in  inaccurate  or  undefined  ideas.  But  he  then 
passes  from  Foundations  to  Monsignor  Benson's  work :  Confessions 
of  a  Convert,  to  show  that  "  the  Catholic  Church  in  things  that 
practically  and  directly  affect  souls,  not  only  knows  her  mind,  but 

is  constantly  declaring  it." Rev.  J.  G.  Vaud,  D.D.,  in  Science 

and  Philosophy  at  Louvain,  traces  the  changes  since  the  days  of 
the  Renaissance  in  the  relations  of  philosophy  to  science,  considers 
outstanding  problems  in  contemporary  thought,  and  estimates  how 
far  changes  in  method  and  angle  of  vision  may  be  due  to  the  success 
of  the  natural  sciences.  This  brief  criticism  of  current  methods 
and  tendencies  leads  up  to  an  appreciation  of  the  philosophical 
ideal  of  the  Louvain  School,  which  follows  the  principles  of  St. 
Thomas. In  Blessed  Thomas  More  and  the  Arrest  of  Human- 
ism in  England,  J.  S.  Phillimore  claims  that  the  humanist  movement 
in  England  was  arrested  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
did  not  mature  till  more  than  a  century  later;  that  the  movement 
was  typically  personified  in  More,  and  that  his  death  was  the  blow 
which  paralyzed  it.  The  writer  defines  humanism  as  "an  aesthetic 
movement  towards  finer  forms  of  expression,  an  intellectual  move- 
ment of  expatiating  curiosity,  and  a  stirring  of  moral  restlessness." 
The  Napoleon  of  San  Domingo,  by  Harry  Graham,  gives  an 


844  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Sept., 

interesting  sketch  of  that  remarkable  negro,  Toussaint  L'Ouver- 
ture,  who,  through  sheer  force  of  character,  rose  from  slavery  to 
the  dictatorship  of  his  people.  L'Ouverture  won  freedom  for  his 
people,  only  to  die  in  captivity  at  Joux  in  1803. 

Irish  Theological  Quarterly  (July)  :  Rev.  Hugh  Pope,  O.P., 
calls  attention  to  A  Neglected  Factor  in  the  Study  of  the  Synoptic 
Problem.  A  recent  volume  of  Oxford  Studies  assumes  as  demon- 
strated that  the  resemblances  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  are  due  to 
the  use  of  common  documents;  that  a  complete  Gospel  practically 
identical  with  our  Mark  was  used  by  Matthew  and  Luke;  and  that 
there  was  a  collection  (mainly  of  discourses)  possibly  known  to 
Mark,  and  certainly  furnishing  the  groundwork  of  common  matter 
in  Matthew  and  Luke.  The  theory  is  not  baseless,  but  the  differ- 
ences between  the  latter  two  and  Mark  are  not  to  be  neglected 

as  has  been  done  hitherto. Rev.  James  MacCaffrey  presents  a 

study  of  The  Catholic  School  System  in  the  United  States,  based 

on  Father  Burns'  work  on  this  subject. In  The  Testimony  of  St. 

Irenceus  in  Favour  of  the  Roman  Primacy,  the  Rev.  Bruno  Walk- 
ley,  O.P.,  gives  a  translation  and  interpretation  of  the  disputed 
text  from  the  Saint's  work,  Against  All  Heresies,  Book  III.,  chap- 
ter iii. Rev.  Thomas  Gogarty  gives  an  account  of  The  Dawn  of 

the  Reformation  in  Ireland  (1534-1547)  under  George  Browne. 
Rev.  M.  J.  O'Donnell  has  an  article  on  Post-Lateran  develop- 
ments as  to  The  Seal  of  Confession. 

Irish  Ecclesiastical  Record  (August)  :  The  Greek  Fathers  and 
Original  Sin,  by  Rev.  B.  V.  Miller,  S.T.D.  The  doctrine  of  orig- 
inal sin  was  not  so  fully  developed  in  the  Greek  Church  during  the 
first  four  centuries  as  it  was  among  the  Latins,  but  the  value  of 

Greek  witness  to  this  dogma  is  often  minimized. Dr.  Miller 

examines  the  testimony  of  Origen,  Athanasius,  Gregory  of  Nazian- 
zen,  St.  Basil,  and  St.  Cyril  of  Jerusalem.  There  has  been  much 
controversy  over  the  belief  of  St.  Chrysostom  on  original  sin,  but 
from  quotations  by  St.  Augustine  from  lost  writings  it  is  evident 
that  he  held  substantially  the  Catholic  teaching.  The  main  differ-' 

ence  between  the  early  East  and  West  is  one  of  phraseology. 

Alcoholism,  by  Rev.  W.  J.  Mulcahy,  P.P.,  gives  the  startling  sta- 
tistics which  speak  so  loudly  of  the  far-reaching  effects  on  society 
resulting  from  alcohol.  He  suggests  as  the  principal  remedy  for 
alcoholism,  a  well-grounded  education  on  the  science  of  the  sub- 
ject, together  with  the  aids  of  religion. 


1913-]  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  845 

Le  Correspondant  (July  10)  :  An  anonymous  writer  presents 
a  dark  picture  of  the  consequences  of  the  Balkan  war  to  Catholic 
and  French  interests.  Ludovic  Naudeau  describes  the  initial  man- 
oeuvre of  the  Bulgarians,  and  their  present  conflict  with  the  Serv- 
ians. And  Jean  Leune  gives  a  detailed  account  of  the  surrender 
of  Salonika. 

Revue  du  Clerge  Franc,ais  (July  i)  :  Ch.  Calippe  tells  of  The 
Circles  for  Sacerdotal  Studies,  which  have  sprung  up  in  France 
in  amazing  numbers,  to  give  French  priests  the  "  equivalents  for 
common  and  religious  life  "  now  denied  to  them.  The  aim  of 
these  circles  is  not  purely  theoretical ;  above  all  it  is  practical.  As 
Canon  Paulot  has  said :  "  At  this  time  of  separation,  one  separation 
above  all  is  to  be  feared,  that  of  priest  from  priest."  To  obviate 
this  possibility,  this  new  social  movement  has  been  born,  under 
the  patronage  of  the  highest  ecclesiastical  authority.  There  is  no 
doubt  but  it  will  contribute  efficaciously  to  the  work  of  religious 

and  social  regeneration  now  going  on. -Monsignor  Herscher 

gives  a  study  of  The  Politics  Behind  the  "  Kulturkampf ,"  based  on 
new  and  interesting  lights  thrown  on  Bismarck,  the  man  and  the 
statesman,  by  Georges  Goyau,  in  his  four-volume  work.  This 
deeper  study  of  Bismarck's  point  of  view  explains  much  of  his 
untiring  activity  against  religious  orders  and  the  hierarchy.  To 
his  mind  Catholicism  was  a  barrier  to  his  one  idea — German  unity, 
hence  the  May  Laws  and  his  political  cruelty.  By  God's  grace, 
however,  the  Church,  aided  by  the  Centre  Party  under  Windthorst 
triumphed;  triumphed  because  the  faithful  were  united  to  their 
bishops  and  the  Holy  See,  and  in  unswerving  resistance  to  the 
Church's  opponents. 

(July  15)  :  In  Literature  That  Remains,  Eugene  Evrard  speaks 
of  our  recent  works  which  are  likely  to  stand  the  test  of  time,  viz., 
Henry  Bordeaux's  beautiful  romance,  The  House;  M.  Romain 
Roland's  three  dramas  now  republished,  Saint  Louis,  Aert,  and 
The  Triumph  of  Reason;  M.  Henri  Blaudin's  new  light  on  that 
favorite  topic  in  France,  Huysmans,  and  The  True  Mystery  of  the 
Passion,  by  Arnold  Greban,  a  book  published  in  1452,  and  now 
happily  adopted  by  Ch.  Gailly  de  Taurines  and  L.  de  La  Tournasse. 
The  original,  as  well  as  the  adaptation,  is  in  verse,  and  was  seen 
on  the  stage  in  the  fifteenth  century.  It  has  recently  been  put  on  at 
the  Odeon.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  its  field  will  be  still  more  widened. 
A.  Boudinhon  gives  a  list  of  Prohibited  Books  and  Periodicals 


846  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS  [Sept., 

from  1901-1913,  thus  adding  a  three  years'  complete  appendix  to 
the  new  Index  published  in  1910. 

Revue  ^Pratique  d'Apologetique  (July  15)  :  The  Struggle 
Against  Alcoholism  and  Immorality,  by  E.  Beaupin,  in  a  report 
read  before  the  Congress  of  the  Works  of  Diocesan  Missions  in 
Paris,  names  as  the  three  chief  weapons  to  use  against  these  two 

great  evils,  sermons,  confessions,  and  the  confessional. The  Moral 

Value  of  our  Federations,  by  A.  Beaulieu,  claims  that  Federation, 
besides  organizations  for  the  moral,  religious,  and  social  formation 
of  the  young  man,  ought  to  include  provision  for  his  intellectual, 
physical,  artistic,  and  even  professional  formation.  Young  men 
must  be  taken  as  they  are;  they  must  be  interested,  but  care  must 
be  taken  to  keep  these  things  in  their  proper  place.  The  Catholic 
Church  alone  can  give  the  ideals  and  the  power  to  organization 
which  will  enable  it  to  fulfill  its  work. 

Etudes  (July  5) :  Louis  Chervaillot  gives  a  sketch  of  Giacomo 
Leopardi,  as  a  pious  and  laborious  youth ;  devoting  his  first  literary 
efforts  to  the  defence  of  Christianity,  who  later,  under  the  influence 
of  Giordani,  the  free-thinker,  lost  his  faith,  and  became  the  poet 
of  pessimism.  He  died  in  1837. 

(July  20)  :  Charles  Chesnelong  (Rene  Moreau),  the  great 
French  Catholic  parliamentarian,  was  born  in  1820  in  the  small 
commune  of  Lagor.  Deeply  pious,  he  reared  a  large  family  in 
the  sound  principles  of  Christianity.  One  son  became  Archbishop 
of  Sens,  and  a  daughter  a  Sister  of  Charity  in  the  Foreign  Missions. 
Chesnelong  was  a  "  passionate  and  disinterested  servant  of  the 
Church  and  of  France."  True  patriotism  led  him  into  politics, 
where  he  was  an  intrepid  defender  of  the  Temporal  Power.  In 
1876  he  was  elected  irremovable  Senator.  He  was  active  in  all  the 
big  Catholic  movements  in  France  from  this  time  till  his  death  in 

1894. Saint  Irenaus,  by  Paul  Galthier.  St.  Irenseus  was  one  of 

the  founders  of  Catholic  theology;  for  a  long  time  his  work  was 
the  classic  on  original  sin,  the  Real  Presence,  and  ecclesiastical 
penance;  he  anticipated  the  dogma  of  the  Incarnation  as  formu- 
lated by  the  Church  against  Nestorius.  "  He  has  proclaimed  the 
rule  of  Apostolic  faith,"  says  Harnack.  His  work  is  still  the  model 
of  those  writers  who  undertake  the  defence  of  the  traditional  faith 
against  novelties.  He  is  truly  a  Doctor  of  the  Church  besides 
being  Bishop  and  Martyr. 


IRecent  Events. 


So  great  was  the  opposition  encountered  by 
France.  the  Three  Years'  Service  Bill  that  it  took 

ten  weeks  for  it  to  pass  through  the  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies,  after  which  it  has  gone  to  the  Senate,  where  it 
has  had  a  smoother  course.  The  Socialists  and  the  Socialist- 
Radicals,  under  the  leadership  of  M.  Caillaux,  did  everything  in 
their  power  to  change  the  character  of  the  bill,  and  in  fact  many 
important  amendments  were  accepted.  The  chief  changes  it  makes 
in  the  military  law  of  France  are  as  follows:  It  lays  down  the 
effective  strength  below  which  no  unit  of  the  army  is  to  be  allowed 
to  drop.  Length  of  service  with  the  active  army  in  increased  from 
two  years  to  three.  Physically  selected  conscripts  will  be  incor- 
porated in  the  army  at  twenty  years  of  age  instead  of  as  hitherto 
at  twenty-one,  adding  thereby  to  the  existing  strength  one  hundred 
and  forty-four  thousand  men.  The  total  period  of  military  lia- 
bility is  extended  from  twenty-five  to  twenty-eight  years.  This 
provision  will  enable  France  to  call  out  an  additional  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  men  in  times  of  grave  peril.  The  mini- 
mum number  of  effectives  provided  for  by  the  bill  amount  to 
seven  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  three  hundred  and  twenty- 
nine  men.  On  account  of  the  leaves  of  absence  which  have  been 
granted,  the  three  years  of  service  will  in  practice  be  reduced  to 
two  years  and  nine  months.  This  modified  three  years'  service 
will  not  have  its  full  effect  until  1916. 

The  reason  for  which  so  strenuous  an  opposition  was  offered 
to  the  bill  by  Socialists  and  many  Radicals,  was  their  view  that 
it  involved  the  renouncement  of  the  idea  of  a  nation  in  arms, 
to  which  the  nation  had  been  tending  on  the  line  of  Republican 
evolution,  and  which  had  found  its  expression  to  a  large  extent 
in  the  law  of  1905.  They  look  upon  the  present  proposal  as 
the  work  of  reactionaries.  By  accepting  the  assistance  of  the 
Right,  the  government  had  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
the  Republic  caused  a  division  in  the  Republican  parties  on  the 
question  of  defence. 

The  bill  will  involve  a  large  increase  of  expenditure.  Upon 
whose  shoulders  the  cost  will  be  placed,  will  be  a  matter  of  keen 


848  RECENT  EVENTS  [Sept., 

controversy  between  the  bourgeoisie  and  the  Socialists,  the  latter 
insisting  that  the  burden  should  be  borne  by  the  rich.  To  this 
M.  Barthou  and  his  colleagues  are  said  to  have  agreed,  and  it  is 
expected  that  they  will  bring  in  fresh  income-tax  proposals,  and 
even  a  tax  on  capital  somewhat  similar  in  character  to  the  levy 
recently  adopted  by  Germany.  But  there  are  those  who  anticipate 
that  the  government  will  not  live  long  enough  to  make  these  pro- 
posals. 

Even  apart  from  this  fresh  military  expenditure,  the  financial 
state  of  France  is  serious;  so  serious,  indeed,  that  national  bank- 
ruptcy is  sometimes  said  to  be  imminent.  The  budget  statements 
are  so  obscure  that  it  is  hard  to  discover  the  real  state  of  the 
finances.  Good  authorities,  however,  say  that  while  the  official 
budget  of  this  year  shows  a  surplus  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  the 
deficit  is  in  reality  more  than  two  hundred  millions.  This  seems 
incredible,  and  is  in  fact  disputed.  But  all  are  agreed  in  recog- 
nizing the  necessity  for  financial  reform,  and  it  is  as  to  the  nature 
of  this  reform  that  the  chief  conflicts  between  French  parties  will 
take  place.  The  state  of  the  finances  will  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  carrying  into  effect  of  the  many  costly  measures  of  social 
legislation  that  have  been  proposed. 

A  distinguishing  feature  of  this  year's  celebration  of  the  four- 
teenth of  July,  the  national  Fete  Day  of  Republican  France,  was 
the  presence  at  the  review  at  Longchamp  of  detachments  of  troops 
from  the  numerous  French  colonies.  These  came  from  Senegal, 
the  Gaboon,  Morocco,  Algeria,  Madagascar,  Tonkin,  and  Annam. 
The  Senegal  sharpshooters  attracted  particular  attention.  Some  of 
the  troops  had  a  record  of  almost  unbroken  service  for  ten  years. 
Their  presence  has  led  to  the  consideration  of  the  possibility  of 
making  fuller  use  of  the  valuable  military  material  to  be  found  in 
France's  African  colonies.  The  attempt  made  by  the  Socialists, 
Syndicalists,  and  Anarchists  on  the  occasion  of  the  review  to  arouse 
popular  indignation  against  the  Three  Years'  Service  Bill  was 
a  distinct  failure. 

The  foreign  relations  of  France  have  undergone  no  change. 
The  passing  through  Paris  of  the  King  of  Spain  on  his  way  to 
England,  gave  an  occasion  for  the  manifestation  of  the  satisfaction 
felt  at  the  restoration  of  perfectly  cordial  relations  between  the 
two  countries.  The  visit  of  the  President  to  England  showed 
clearly  that  no  change  has  taken  place  in  the  entente  cordiale,  ex- 
cept it  be  that  the  friendship  is  striking  deeper  roots.  The  Con- 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  849 

ferences  which  took  place  between  the  Ministers  of  Foreign  Affairs 
of  France  and  England,  proved  that  on  all  matters  concerning  the 
maintenance  of  peace,  and  upon  all  political  questions  in  general, 
the  two  Powers  were  in  absolute  and  complete  agreement.  French 
satisfaction  found  expression  in  the  declaration  of  M.  Ribot:  "I 
have  always  considered  that  close  friendship  between  France  and 
England  was  absolutely  necessary,  not  merely  from  the  French 
point  of  view,  but  also  for  the  progress  of  civilization." 

The    army    bill    having    been    passed,    the 

Germany.  Reichstag  has  adjourned  to  the  twentieth 

of  November.     The  bill  was  carried,  against 

the  votes  of  the  Socialists  and  the  Poles,  substantially  in  the  form 
proposed  by  the  government.  It  increases  the  peace  strength  of 
the  army  by  four  thousand  officers,  fifteen  thousand  non-commis- 
sioned officers,  one  hundred  and  seventeen  thousand  men,  and 
twenty-seven  thousand  horses.  About  ninety  per  cent  of  the  addi- 
tion will  be  made  by  October  of  this  year.  As  a  result  of  these 
changes,  the  German  army  will  eventually  reach  eight  hundred  and 
sixty-six  thousand  men  of  all  ranks.  The  spirit  by  which  the  increase 
is  animated  is  well  indicated  by  the  words  of  the  War  Minister: 
"  The  best  parry  is  the  lunge;  the  best  covering  force  is  the  offen- 
sive." To  be  a  neighbor  of  Germany  is  no  pleasant  position. 

The  additional  expense  involved  in  the  increase,  so  far  as 
regards  the  non-recurring  expenditure,  was  raised  by  an  extra- 
ordinary levy  on  property.  This  was  carried  against  the  votes  of 
the  Poles  and  Alsatians ;  the  Socialists  voting  for  it,  as  they  looked 
upon  the  proposal  as  a  valuable  precedent  for  themselves.  For  the 
same  reason  they  supported  the  tax  on  the  increment  of  fortunes. 
This  is  a  tax  upon  every  increment  to  the  extent  of  not  more  than 
two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  of  a  fortune  which  is  not  less 
than  five  thousand  dollars,  and  is  considered  by  many  to  be  a 
strange  and  hazardous  proceeding.  A  possibly  more  important 
feature  of  the  new  measures  of  taxation  is  that  a  start  has  been 
made  on  the  path  of  direct  imperial  taxation..-  ,  This  involves,  ac- 
cording to  the  Conservative  view,  a  violation  of  the  Constitution. 
The  Socialists,  on  the  other  hand,  are  jubilant,  looking  upon  the 
result  as  a  triumph  of  their  principles.  In  the  country  the  strength 
of  this  party  seems  to  be  growing,  for  at  a  recent  by-election  they 
have  beaten  the  Conservatives.  The  latter  have  lost  two  seats 
within  a  few  days. 

VOL.  xcvu. — 54 


850  RECENT  EVENTS  [Sept., 

The  trial  of  the  military  officials  who  are  charged  with  im- 
parting government  information  to  the  head  of  Krupp's  office 
in  Berlin,  resulted  in  the  conviction  of  the  accused.  Nothing  treas- 
onable was  revealed,  nor  was  there  anything  approaching  to  a 
"  Panama  "  scandal.  Cooperation  with  the  Krupps  in  the  desire 
of  the  latter  to  underbid  their  competitors  for  government  contracts 
was  the  utmost  extent  of  their  wrong-doing.  The  Socialists,  who 
brought  the  matter  to  light,  are  said -to  have  been  animated  by 
hatred  of  the  Krupp  firm,  because  they  can  make  no  headway 
amongst  their  workmen.  Further  light,  perhaps,  may  be  thrown 
upon  the  matter  by  a  civil  trial  which  is  to  come  on.  Nothing  was 
disclosed  as  to  the  attempt  alleged  to  have  been  made  to  excite, 
by  articles  in  newspapers,  warlike  feeling  in  France  so  as  to  facilitate 
the  demand  for  an  increase  of  armaments  in  Germany. 

The   resignation    of    Herr   von    Cuvaj    as 
Austria-Hungary.      Royal   Commissioner  of   Croatia,   and  the 

appointment  of  a  successor,  are  taken  as 

indications  that  the  Hungarian  government  is  prepared  for  the  resti- 
tution of  the  constitutional  government  of  which  for  so  long  a  time 
it  has  arbitrarily  deprived  the  Croatians.  But  no  sooner  is  the 
normal  state  of  things  re-established  in  one  part  of  the  Austro- 
Hungarian  domitiions,  than  it  is  destroyed  in  another.  By  Im- 
perial Letters  Patent  the  Bohemian  Diet  has  been  dissolved,  and 
in  place  of  the  ordinary  executive  body  a  Commission  of  Adminis- 
tration has  been  appointed  to  perform  its  duties.  This  amounts 
to  a  suspension  of  Bohemian  autonomy,  and  is  due  to  racial 
quarrels  between  the  Germans  and  Czechs,  and  to  the  obstruction 
of  the  proceedings  of  the  Diet,  which  for  a  long  time  has  been 
practised  by  both.  This  had  resulted  in  a  financial  deadlock. 
The  treasury  had  become  almost  empty,  and  the  officials  had  no 
salaries. 

The  newly-appointed  Commission  is  not  satisfactory  to  the 
Germans,  for  out  of  the  eight  members  of  which  it  consists  five  are 
Czechs.  The  Constitution  gives  the  Crown  a  right  to  intervene 
in  this  way  in  case  of  emergency,  but  it  is  said  in  this  instance 
to  have  overstepped  its  rights,  inasmuch  as  it  has  not  at  once 
proceeded  to  hold  an  election  for  a  new  Diet.  The  measure  is 
declared  to  be  merely  provisionary,  but  has  met  with  a  storm  of 
protest  among  the  Czechs.  It  is  condemned  as  a  breach  of  the 
Constitution,  as  a  blow  aimed  at  the  kingdom  of  Bohemia  and  the 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  851 

Czech  nation,  and  as  a  measure  of  absolutism.  This  constant  inter- 
vention of  the  monarch  makes  the  equilibrium  unstable  in  countries 
in  which  so  great  a  degree  of  power  is  left  in  the  hands  of  the  ruler. 
The  Dual  Monarchy  is  proceeding  further  on  the  same  road 
as  France  and  Germany.  It  is  announced  that  in  consequence  of 
the  changes  in  the  strategical  conditions  of  Southeastern  Europe, 
the  strength  of  the  Austro-Hungarian  army  will  be  considerably 
increased.  The  standing  army  is  to  have  thirty  thousand  more 
men  and  the  militia  twenty  thousand. 

Constitutional  government,  within  the  limits 
Russia.  conceded  by  the  "  Emperor  and  Autocrat 

of  all  the  Russias,"  has  become   so  well 

established  an  institution  that,  it  is  said,  no  English  Minister  could 
have  held  more  correct  and  respectful  language  towards  the  House 
of  Commons  than  did  M.  Kokovtzoff,  the  Russian  Prime  Minister, 
when  he  explained  his  budget  to  the  Duma.  The  Chamber  and 
the  government,  after  an  experience  of  seven  years,  have  become 
accustomed  to  work  calmly  together  with  feelings  of  mutual  re- 
spect, and  sometimes  of  full  confidence.  Especially  in  financial 
matters,  on  which  in  other  countries  conflicts  between  governments 
and  Parliaments  have  been  most  frequent,  a  friendly  spirit  has 
existed,  and  amicable  cooperation  has  been  the  rule.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  Duma  have  made  such  progress  in  their  political  educa- 
tion, that  they  have  found  that  the  best  way  to  secure  for  the 
Chamber  a  fair  share  in  the  control  of  finance,  is  to  cooperate 
with  the  government,  so  far  as  this  is  possible,  rather  than  to 
offer  systematic  opposition.  This  course  doubtless  has  been  facil- 
itated by  the  fact  that  the  country  has  been  prosperous,  especially  in 
that  which  is  still  the  mainstay  of  Russia's  prosperity — agriculture. 
There  has  been  a  series  of  good  harvests,  and  as  a  consequence  a 
succession  of  surpluses,  and  hence  no  reason  for  new  taxation — that 
frequent  bone  of  contention.  The  healthy  control  which  the  Duma 
has  succeeded  in  obtaining  over  the  finances  of  the  Empire,  justifies 
the  hope  that  it  will  establish  a  strong  claim  for  the  gradual  exten- 
sion of  its  influence  to  other  spheres  of  political  activity. 

The  harmonious  relations  which  exist  between  the  government 
and  the  Duma  on  financial  matters  do  not,  however,  extend  so 
completely  to  every  branch  of  the  administration.  During  the 
revolutionary  period,  Russia  was  placed  under  exceptional  laws, 
which  gave  to  the  authorities  far  larger  powers  of  arrest  and 


852  RECENT  EVENTS  [Sept., 

imprisonment  than  those  given  by  the  ordinary  law.  This  period 
came  to  an  end  in  1907,  and  yet  these  exceptional  laws  still  re- 
main in  force.  By  a  resolution  recently  passed  by  the  Duma,  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior  was  condemned  for  illegally  prolonging 
this  period,  and  thereby  destroying  the  respect  due  to  the  ordinary 
law,  and  unduly  increasing  its  own  power,  and  thereby  exciting 
discontent.  The  resolution  went  on  to  accuse  the  administration 
of  delaying  the  reforms  admitted  to  be  necessary  in  the  Imperial 
Manifesto  of  October,  1905.  As  an  instance  of  what  a  Russian 
government  is  still  capable  of  doing,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  for 
a  fortnight  before  the  Tsar's  visit  all  goods'  traffic  was  forbidden 
on  the  Volga — a  procedure  which  inflicted  great  loss  and  hardship 
to  multitudes. 

The  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  has  also  fallen  under  the 
condemnation  of  the  Duma.  It  has  passed  a  resolution  by  which 
it  affirmed  that  there  existed  an  urgent  need  of  radical  educational 
reforms,  in  order  to  give  the  pupils  a  practical  preparation  for 
life;  the  present  methods  of  intellectual  instruction  and  physical 
training,  it  declared,  were  unsatisfactory;  the  whole  system  was 
characterized  as  dry  and  formal.  The  Ministry  in  fact  had  shown 
itself  insensible  to  the  needs  of  the  country.  Of  these  two  resolu- 
tions the  government  took  no  notice,  and,  therefore,  they  are  not 
likely  to  have  any  practical  effect.  They  show,  however,  that  the 
Duma  is  not  in  any  respect  subservient  to  the  government,  as  well  as 
that  the  harmony  between  the  two  is  not  quite  perfect.  That  the 
Cabinet  itself  is  moving  in  a  more  liberal  direction,  is  made  clear 
by  the  fact  that  it  has  rejected  a  new  reactionary  press  law  which 
had  been  drawn  up  by  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  and  has  required 
that  it  should  be  remodelled  before  its  introduction  to  the  Duma. 

A  spectacle  unique  in  our  times — the  use  of  soldiers  for  the 
suppression  of  heresy — has  been  seen,  not  exactly  in  Russian  ter- 
ritory, but  in  territory  subject  in  some  respects  to  Russian  juris- 
diction. Certain  monks  of  Mount  Athos  fell  into  what  the  Holy 
Synod  declared  to  be  heresy,  and  all  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  Or- 
thodox Church  to  bring  about  a  retractation  having  failed,  soldiers 
were  landed  from  a  Russian  vessel,  and  the  heretics  were  carried 
off  to  Russia.  What  was  done  to  them  on  their  arrival  is  not 
yet  known. 

While  between  the  government  and  the  Duma  the  relations 
may  be  looked  upon  as  fairly  satisfactory,  there  is  a  wider  diver- 
gence between  it  and  the  mass  of  the  Russian  people.  If  the  latter 


1913-]  RECENT  EVENTS  853 

had  had  their  way,  it  is  almost  certain  that  Russia  would  have  been 
drawn  into  the  Balkan  war  in  support  of  the  brother  Slavs  of  the 
Russian  people  in  opposition  to  the  action  of  Austria-Hungary. 
Feeling  ran  very  high,  and  force  had  to  be  used  to  suppress 
popular  demonstrations.  But  the  government  stood  firm,  being 
resolved  to  maintain  the  European  concert,  and  in  this  way  it 
appears  to  have  been  wiser  than  the  people.  In  entering  into  war 
with  each  other,  the  Balkan  States  inflicted  a  severe  rebuff  on  the 
Tsar  and  his  advisers,  for  he  warned  them  solemnly  that  he  would 
look  with  disfavor  on  the  nation  responsible  for  beginning  the  war. 
As  it  progressed,  something  like  a  common  course  of  action  was 
adopted  by  Russia  and  Austria-Hungary;  hence  it  may  be  hoped 
that  the  relations  between  the  two  countries  may  improve. 

By  a  treaty  made  at  Bukarest,  the  war  be- 
The  Balkan  War.      tween  the  former  Allies  has  been  brought 

to  an  end — at  least  for  a  time.     This  war 

was  carried  on  with  a  ferocity  worthy  of  savages,  in  which  all  the 
mitigations  which  have  of  late  been  adopted  by  civilized  nations 
were  disregarded.  Not  only  did  the  actual  combatants 
suffer,  but  thousands  of  non-combatants,  old  men,  women,  and 
children  were  massacred,  mutilated,  and  outraged.  Bulgarian 
soldiers  were  found  with  the  hands  of  little  children  suspended 
round  their  necks  as  a  charm.  The  King  of  Greece,  in  a  public 
proclamation,  called  his  former  allies  monsters  of  cruelty,  treacher- 
ous, without  any  sense  of  honor.  But  if  the  accounts  are  true 
which  have  been  given  of  the  Greeks  especially,  and  of  the  Servians 
in  a  less  degree,  there  is  little  to  choose  between  the  combatant 
States.  All  have  acted  with  the  greatest  cruelty. 

So  far  as  the  facts  are  known,  it  was  Bulgarian  ambition  that 
brought  on  the  war.  She  wished  to  secure  the  hegemony  in  the 
Balkan  region,  or,  as  we  should  say  in  this  country,  to  be  the  boss, 
and  to  get  possession  of  the  lion's  share  of  the  spoils.  In  this 
she  had  some  justification,  for  she  had  made  the  greatest  sacrifices, 
and  had  won  the  most  important  victories  over  the  common  foe. 
This  led  to  undue  elation,  and  to  the  confident  expectation  that  she 
could  defeat  the  Servians  and  the  Greeks  as  easily  as  she  had  done 
the  Turks.  There  is  good  evidence  that  she  acted  with  deliberate 
treachery,  that  while  discussing  terms  of  settlement,  she  was  at 
the  same  moment  carrying  on  warlike  operations.  Never,  how- 
ever, did  conduct  of  this  time  meet  with  so  swift  a  nemesis.  Within 


854  RECENT  EVENTS  [Sept., 

a  few  weeks  Bulgaria  became  a  mere  geographical  expression. 
The  Turks  were  in  the  south,  the  Greeks  and  Servians  to  the 
west,  while  the  Rumanians  were  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
capital.  So  weak  had  Bulgaria  become,  that  to  the  advance  of 
the  latter  not  the  smallest  opposition  had  been  offered. 

That  peace  has  been  concluded  is  chiefly  due  to  Rumania, 
with  Russia  and  the  Powers  in  the  background.  The  terms  of  the 
treaty  impose  great  sacrifices  upon  Bulgaria,  and  deprive  her  of 
the  objects  which  she  was  most  desirous  of  obtaining.  The  posses- 
sion of  a  seaport  on  the  ^Egean  has  been  denied  to  her,  Kavala 
having  been  given  to  Greece.  The  coast  line  which  has  been  con- 
ceded contains  no  place  suitable  for  a  port.  The  large  number 
of  Bulgarians  who  dwell  in  Macedonia,  for  whose  sake  the  war 
with  Turkey  began,  are  placed  by  the  new  treaty  under  the  rule 
of  Servia.  Rumania  has  obtained  a  slice  of  Bulgaria — the  strategic 
frontier  she  desired.  The  boundaries  of  Greece  and  Servia  have 
been  made  conterminous — a  thing  to  which  Bulgaria  had  offered 
the  strongest  opposition.  Thrace  is  left  to  her,  but  on  what  terms 
the  Turks  will  be  forced  to  evacuate  Adrianople  is  not  yet  settled, 
and  it  is  not  beyond  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  this  district,  the 
chief  of  Bulgaria's  acquisitions,  may  be  made  into  an  autonomous 
State.  Under  these  conditions,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  submission 
of  Bulgaria  is  merely  that  rendered  to  force  majeure,  and  that  it 
is  fully  expected  that  when,  if  ever,  she  should  be  strong  enough 
to  make  the  attempt,  she  will  take  steps  to  free  herself.  For 
this  reason  the  new  treaty  is  not  looked  upon  as  a  permanent  settle- 
ment. In  fact,  claims  are  being  made  by  some  of  the  Powers  that 
they  have  the  right  to  subject  it  to  revision. 

The  populations  of  the  States  and  their  gains  in  territory 
are  as  follows:  Rumania,  with  a  population  of  7,600,000,  stands 
at  the  head,  although  her  territorial  gain  is  no  greater  than  that  of 
Montenegro — 4,200  square  miles.  Bulgaria  comes  next  with 
5,000,000  inhabitants,  and  a  gain  of  19,800  square  miles.  Servia 
will  have  a  population  of  4,000,000,  and  gains  19,200  square  miles. 
Greece  has  the  largest  accession  of  territory,  27,000  square  miles, 
and  her  population  is  now  4,500,000.  The  boundaries  of  the  new 
State  of  Albania  have  not  yet  been  definitely  settled,  but  its  popu- 
lation is  estimated  at  2,000,000.  Montenegro  is  still  the  smallest 
of  the  States,  with  a  population  of  500,000,  and  a  gain  of  territory 
of  4,200  square  miles.  Such  hegemony  as  exists  must  be  conceded 
to  Rumania. 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  855 

The  Turks  have  been  called  upon,  by  an  identic  note  of  the 
Powers,  presented  at  Constantinople,  and  couched  in  the  most  cate- 
gorical terms,  to  show  respect  to  the  Treaty  of  London,  and  to 
evacuate  Adrianople.  So  far  they  have  not  complied.  No  meas- 
ures to  enforce  compliance  have  yet  been  taken.  The  Turks  are 
becoming  their  own  worst  enemy.  A  more  impudent  document 
than  that  presented  to  the  Powers  in  justification  of  their  re-entering 
Adrianople,  was  never  composed.  They  made  the  claim  that  they 
were  not,  by  so  doing,  breaking  the  Treaty  of  London.  This  had, 
indeed,  settled  the  boundary  line  as  extending  from  Enos  to  Midia, 
the  boundary  they  said  would  still  be  from  Enos  to  Midia,  but  it 
would  go  round  by  Adrianople,  that  is  to  say,  it  would  go  round  the 
two  sides  of  a  triangle  and  not  along  its  base.  The  existence  of 
Turkey,  even  in  Asia,  depends  not  merely  upon  the  forbearance 
of  the  Powers,  but  even  upon  their  being  united  in  exercising  for- 
bearance; and  also  upon  there  being  willing  to  grant  financial  as- 
sistance. Turkey's  action  in  seizing  upon  Adrianople  has  been  the 
thing  best  calculated  to  alienate  them. 

The  public  attention  directed  by  Adeline 
Portugal.  Duchess  of  Bedford  to  the  treatment  of  the 

Royalist  prisoners  in  Portugal,  has  not  been 

altogether  without  effect.  Some  relief  has  been  granted  them,  but 
the  amnesty  so  long  expected  has  not  yet  come.  Senhor  Affonso 
Costa  still  holds  the  Premiership.  He  has  been  in  office  for  more 
than  six  months — a  long  time  for  a  Portuguese  minister  under 
the  Republican  regime.  His  hold  upon  the  government  is  said  to 
have  steadily  increased,  although  he  is  popular  nowhere,  and  it  is 
largely  by  means  of  a  secret  police  that  he  maintains  his  power. 
To  a  certain  extent  he  has  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  an  indis- 
pensable man.  Under  his  administration  the  state  of  the  finances 
has  improved.  The  rich  individuals  and  powerful  corporations 
who  used  formerly  to  avoid  payment,  by  means  of  bribery,  of  their 
due  share  of  the  taxes  have  been  forced  to  obey  the  law,  and,  as  a 
consequence,  the  treasury  has  been  better  filled,  and  the  immense 
floating  debt,  which  for  so  long  has  been  a  drain  on  the  country, 
has  notably  decreased.  Laws  have  been  passed  imposing  new  taxes 
to  relieve  the  tenant  at  the  expense  of  the  landlord,  and  the  poor 
at  the  expense  of  the  rich.  So  promising  is  the  prospect  that  a  sub- 
stantial surplus  is  expected  this  year. 

But  in  other  respects  the  outlook  is  gloomy.     The  cost  of 


856  RECENT  EVENTS  [Sept., 

living  has  increased;  and  this  has  led  to  grave  discontent  among 
the  proletariat  of =  Lisbon,  who  expected  that  the  Republic  would 
bring  the  millenium.  Stern  methods  of  repression  have  been  taken, 
and  these  have  inflamed  large  numbers.  Nor  have  the  moderate 
elements  become  reconciled  to  the  new  ideas,  the  Separation  Law 
having  proved  a  great  obstacle.  There  are  also  monarchists,  who 
still  hope  for  the  restoration  of  the  royal  family,  and  are  said 
to  be  conspiring  for  this  end.  But  the  most  active  enemy  at  the 
present  time  are  the  extremists  of  Senhor  Costa's  own  party.  So 
dissatisfied  are  they  that  they  have  adopted  the  methods  of  Con- 
tinental Syndicalism.  By  outrages  and  violence  they  have  been 
making  repeated  efforts  to  overthrow  the  government.  In  each 
case  officers  of  the  army  and  navy  have  been  included  among  the 
conspirators.  The  fact  that  an  almost  inexhaustible  supply  of 
bombs  has  been  at  their  disposal,  seems  to  show  that  the  movement 
is  widespread.  The  government  has  not  hesitated  to  take  as  drastic 
measures  against  these  its  former  friends  as  were  formerly  dealt 
out  to  the  rebellious  monarchists.  In  one  day  thirty  conspirators 
were  shipped  off  to  the  Azores,  there  to  be  summarily  tried  and 
confined  to  prison. 

So  little  capacity  for  the  civilized  government  of  their  own 
country  is  being  shown  by  those  now  in  power  that  the  question  is  be- 
ing raised,  both  in  Great  Britain  and  elsewhere,  as  to  their  methods 
of  government  of  the  large  tracts  of  territory  which  are  possessed 
by  Portugal  in  Africa.  It  is  said  that  not  only  slave  holding 
exists  on  the  mainland  and  in  the  islands  which  belong  to  Por- 
tugal, but  also  that  slave  trading  is  carried  on.  The  Republic  on 
its  advent  promised  to  suppress  these  evils,  and  has  made  some 
efforts  to  keep  its  promises,  but  with  so  little  success  that  every 
one  acquainted  with  the  state  of  things  recognizes  that  the  condi- 
tions of  labor  under  which  the  natives  are  working  is  in  effect 
bondage.  The  attention  which  has  been  called  to  the  matter  will, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  lead  to  as  satisfactory  a  result  as  that  attained 
by  the  Congo  agitation.  So  far,  however,  it  has  only  had  the 
effect  of  exciting  the  indignation  of  the  Carbonarios  of  Portugal, 
and  has  led  them  to  threaten  an  extension  to  London  of  the  methods 
of  control  which  they  have  so  long  practised  in  Lisbon. 

It  is  left  to  the  future  to  disclose  whether  the  marriage,  which 
is  announced  as  about  to  take  place,  of  the  ex-King  Manoel  with 
a  Princess  of  the  Catholic  branch  of  the  Hohenzollerns,  will  ever 
have  any  effect  on  the  course  of  events  in  Portugal.  It  will  not, 


1913.]  RECENT  EVENTS  857 

of  course,  be  the  first  time  that  German  blood  has  been  introduced 
into  the  Portuguese  royal  family,  for  to  go  no  farther  back,  his 
great-grandmother,  Maria  da  Gloria,  married  Ferdinand  of  Saxe- 
Coburg. 

Little  has  been  heard  lately  of  the  course 
Persia.  of  events  in  Persia.     It  is  not,  however,  be- 

cause it  is  in  the  happy  position  of  those 

countries  that  have  no  history.  On  the  contrary,  things  have 
been  going  from  bad  to  worse;  so  much  that  an  opportunity  is 
presented  to  the  students  of  history  of  witnessing  what  looks  like 
the  deathbed  of  an  ancient  kingdom.  A  bluebook  has  been  recently 
published  by  the  British  government,  which  shows  that  southern 
Persia  is  in  the  throes  of  dissolution,  given  up  to  rapine  and  bri- 
gandage; trade  is  at  a  standstill;  armed  bands  roam  about  the 
country  doing  as  they  please.  The  central  government  is  impotent, 
and  the  local  government  ignored.  It  is  not  so  much  misrule, 
but  the  absolute  disappearance  of  all  ordered  and  coherent  rule. 
Not  only  is  the  authority  of  the  government  dissolved,  but  also 
that  of  the  tribes  within  themselves ;  they  are  split  up  into  warring 
factions,  and  only  unite  from  time  to  time  when  an  opportunity 
presents  itself  of  despoiling  caravans  or  of  stripping  chance  trav- 
elers. 

The  only  part  in  which  there  is  even  the  semblance  of  order 
is  northern  Persia,  and  this  because  it  is  occupied  by  the  Russian 
forces.  Promises  have  been  made  that  these  would  be  withdrawn, 
or  at  least  reduced  in  number.  So  far,  however,  is  this  from  hav- 
ing been  done,  that  an  increase  has  taken  place  from  three  thousand 
in  December,  1911,  to  seventeen  thousand  five  hundred  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  Possibly  the  Persian  government,  so  far  as  there  is  one, 
is  not  unwilling  that  order  should  be  kept  even  by  such  means. 
The  Cabinet,  it  is  said,  resigns  once  a  week;  the  Regent  has  been 
an  absentee  in  Europe  for  more  than  a  year;  the  Shah  is  a  boy 
about  fifteen  years  of  age;  the  ex- Shah  is  lying  in  wait  to  pounce 
upon  the  throne;  his  brother,  Salar-ed-Dowleh,  has  been  taking 
active  steps  to  secure  it  for  himself;  while  the  treasury  is  empty. 
Such  are  some  of  the  signs  of  Persia's  decay. 

Some  little  satisfaction  may  be  derived  from  the  remembrance 
that  had  our  countryman,  Mr.  Shuster,  not  been  interfered  with  by 
Russia  and  Great  Britain,  the  country  would  have  been  put  in  a 
fair  way  to  recovery.  The  prospect  now  is  that  it  will  be  par- 
titioned between  Russia  and  Great  Britain.  It  will  be  with  great 


858  RECENT  EVENTS  [Sept., 

reluctance  that  the  latter  will  be  drawn  into  such  a  course  of 
action;  and  only  in  the  event  of  Russia  seizing  upon  northern 
Persia.  She  is  in  fact  making  every  effort  to  avoid  such  a  con- 
tingency. Swedish  officers  are  at  the  head  of  a  gendarmerie  which 
is  the  only  force  making  for  order  in  the  country,  and  small 
loans  are  being  made  from  time  to  time  to  keep  it  in  existence. 
Within  the  last  few  weeks  it  has  been  announced  that  the  Regent 
is  on  the  way  back  to  Teheran,  and  that  a  Mejliss  is  again  to  be 
elected.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  or  no  this  will  be  only 
the  prolongation  of  the • agony.  Of  the  development  of  the  coun- 
try's resources,  better  prospects  exist.  A  concession  for  a  railway 
has  been  granted  to  Russia  in  the  north,  and  an  option  to  a  British 
syndicate  in  the  south.  The  project  for  a  railway  through 
Persia  to  connect  the  Russian  and  the  Indian  systems,  seems  to 
be  in  the  way  of  being  realized,  although  it  is  meeting  with 
powerful  opposition  in  Great  Britain,  where  it  is  looked  upon  as 
likely  to  endanger  the  peaceful  possession  of  India. 

In  the  course  of  last  year,  when  Dr.  Sun 
China.  Yat-sen  offered  sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of  the 

founder  of  the  Ming  Dynasty,  he  declared : 

"  Everywhere  a  beautiful  repose  doth  reign."  This  was  just  after 
the  resignation  of  the  Emperor,  and  the  accession  to  the  Provisional 
Presidency  of  the  Republic  of  Yuan  Shih-kai.  To  this  "  beautiful 
repose  "  Sun  Yat-sen  had  contributed  by  his  magnanimous  resigna- 
tion of  the  Presidency,  to  which  he  had  been  elected  by  the  Revo- 
lutionaries who  had  brought  about  the  fall  of  the  Manchu  Dynasty. 
The  repose  has  soon  come  to  an  end,  and  a  conflict  has  arisen  be- 
tween Yuan  Shih-kai  and  the  one  who  made  way  for  him.  For 
this  there  are  several  reasons.  There  is  between  the  Northern 
and  the  Southern  Provinces  of  China  a  chronic  rivalry  and  jealousy, 
which  has  been  inflamed  by  what  is  said  to  have  been  the  unfair 
distribution  of  the  spoils  of  office  by  the  government.  The  methods 
adopted  by  Yuan  Shih-kai  form  another  reason.  They  by  no 
means  conform  with  the  constitutional  methods  which  are  the  ideal 
of  the  young  Chinese,  of  whom  Sun  Yat-sen  is  a  leader. 

A  glaring  instance  'of  this  is  the  way  in  which  the  recent 
loan  with  the  Five  Powers  was  contracted.  Although  the  first  Par- 
liament was  just  upon  the  point  of  opening  its  session,  the  Provi- 
sional President  did  not  seek  to  obtain  its  sanction  for  the  loan.  This 
is  but  one  instance  out  of  many  of  arbitrary  proceedings  on  his  part. 


I9I3-]  RECENT  EVENTS  859 

Moreover,  Yuan  Shih-kai  is  thought  not  to  be  loyal  to  the  Re- 
public. In  fact,  for  a  long  time  he  opposed  its  establishment,  and 
only  accepted  it  as  the  less  of  two  evils.  It  is  even  said  that  he 
would  not  be  sorry  to  see  the  restoration  of  absolute  rule.  Yet 
he  is  thought — so  great  is  the  demoralization  of  the  Empire — the 
only  man  among  the  Chinese  millions  who  is  able  to  preserve  even 
a  semblance  of  order.  The  desire  of  money  is  predominant  and 
all-absorbing:  there  is  no  one  who  has  not  his  price — there  is  no 
countervailing  consideration. 

The  expectation  that  Yuan  Shih-kai  will  succeed  in  the  con- 
flict, is  based  mainly  on  the  fact  that  he  is  its  possessor:  in  fact 
that  this  might  be  the  case  is  the  reason  for  his  anxiety  to  con- 
clude the  loan.  Up  to  the  present  the  course  of  events  has  been 
in  his  favor;  the  attempt  of  the  rebels  appears  to  be  failing.  What- 
ever the  result  may  be,  the  mass  of  the  Chinese  will  not  be  affected, 
at  least  directly.  In  their  eyes  all  who  have  rule  over  them  are 
hopelessly  corrupt.  Their  only  hope  is  to  escape  from  their  depre- 
dations in  the  easiest  possible  way.  The  politicians  on  both  sides 
are  equally  rapacious.  The  only  piece  of  constructive  legislation 
of  the  new  Senate  so  far  has  been  the  voting  to  each  of  their 
number  the  sum  of  three  thousand  dollars  a  year.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
for  the  sake  of  the  much-suffering  Chinese  masses,  that  a  settlement 
of  one  kind  or  another  will  be  made  before  long.  Residents  in  China 
assert  that  the  accounts  disseminated  by  journalists  of  the  peace- 
ful establishment  of  the  Republic  are  a  fiction.  On  the  contrary, 
no  one  outside  China  can  have  more  than  a  faint  conception  of  the 
sufferings  which  have  been  endured  by  the  defenceless  peasantry 
since  the  revolution  of  October,  1911,  let  loose  upon  them  bands 
of  rabble  soldiery,  pirates,  and  brigands. 

The  way  in  which  the  cultivation  of  the  poppy  has  recently  been 
suppressed  casts  a  light  upon  Chinese  methods,  even  when  the 
regular  soldiers  are  employed.  These  were  sent  to  scour  the  coun- 
try in  search  of  the  growing  crops,  and  as  they  went  they  beheaded 
the  cultivators  right  and  left.  The  fights  between  the  villagers 
and  the  destroyers  of  the  condemned  crops  were  numberless.  Exe- 
cutions, sentences  to  beating,  violation  of  women,  and  pillage  were 
of  constant  occurrence.  The  crops  were  ruthlessly  destroyed,  and 
this  entailed  starvation  in  large  numbers.  There  is  no  one  who  will 
not  rejoice  at  the  suppression  of  the  opium  trade,  but  all  will 
deplore  the  means  by  which  it  has  been  effected. 


With  Our  Readers. 

READERS  of  Charlotte  Bronte's  novel  Villette  will  recall  "  Mon- 
sieur Paul  Emanuel,"  who  in  real  life  was  Professor  Heger,  at 
whose  school  in  Brussels  Charlotte  Bronte  was  a  pupil.  The  relations 
between  teacher  and  pupil  have  always  been  a  matter  of  romantic 
interest,  and  to  some  of  unpleasant  gossip.  There  was  never  the 
least  evidence  that  those  relations  were  in  any  way  sinful.  The  London 
Times  lately  printed  four  lost  letters  from  Charlotte  Bronte  to  M. 
Heger.  They  are  given  to  the  public  by  M.  Heger's  son  Paul,  who 
wishes  to  end  all  dispute  and  speculation.  The  letters  show  that 
Charlotte  Bronte  had  idealized  Monsieur  Paul  Emanuel,  and  wished 
to  be  well  thought  of  and  remembered  by  him. 

*  *  *  * 

'"PHE  following  extract  shows  how  the  sensitive  and  introspective 
1  soul  of  Charlotte  Bronte  yearned  in  the  alien  solitude  of  Brussels, 
and  its  own  greater  interior  loneliness,  for  even  a  touch  of  human 
affection. 

"  MONSIEUR  :  The  poor  have  no  need  for  much  to  sustain  them.  They 
ask  only  for  the  crumbs  that  have  fallen  from  rich  men's  tables.  If  they  are 
refused  the  crumbs  they  will  die  of  hunger.  Nor  do  I  need  much  affection 
from  those  I  love.  I  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  a  friendship  entire  and 
complete.  I  am  not  used  to  it,  but  you  showed  me  of  yore  a  little  interest 
when  I  was  your  pupil  in  Brussels,  and  I  hold  on  maintenance  that  little  in- 
terest —  hold  on  to  it  as  I  would  hold  on  to  life." 

*  *  *  # 


appearance  of  these  letters  reminds  us  that  Villette  is  the  work 
in  which  Charlotte  Bronte  has  some  good  words  to  say  of 
the  Catholic  Church.  She  said  such  words  seldom.  She  was  care- 
fully nurtured  in  severe  Protestant  prejudice,  but  her  experience  in 
Brussels  widened  her  outlook,  and  added  much  to  her  literary  ability, 
because  through  it  she  learned  a  more  sympathetic  touch  with  human 
kind. 

At  the  time  of  which  she  writes,  she  has  been  left  alone  in  the 
school  for  the  long  vacation. 

"  One  evening  —  and  I  was  not  delirious  :  I  was  in  my  sane  mind,  I  got 
up  —  I  dressed  myself,  weak  and  shaking.  The  solitude  and  the  stillness  of  the 
long  dormitory  could  not  be  borne  any  longer.  That  evening  more  firmly 
than  ever  fastened  into  my  soul  the  conviction  that  Fate  was  of  stone,  and 
Hope  a  false  idol  —  blind,  bloodless,  and  of  granite  core.  I  felt,  too,  that  the 
trial  God  had  appointed  me  was  gaining  its  climax,  and  must  now  be  turned 
by  my  own  hands,  hot,  feeble,  trembling  as  they  were.  Covered  with  a  cloak 
(I  could  not  be  delirious,  for  I  had  sense  and  recollection  to  put  on  warm 
clothing),  forth  I  set.  The  bells  of  a  church  arrested  me  in  passing;  they 
seemed  to  call  me  in  to  the  salut,  and  I  went  in.  I  knelt  down  with  others 
on  the  stone  pavement. 

"  Few   worshippers   were   assembled,   and,   the   salut   over,   half   of   them 


1913.]  WITH  OUR  READERS  >      861 

departed.  I  discovered  soon  that  those  left  remained  to  confess.  I  did  not  stir. 
After  a  space,  breathless  and  spent  in  prayer,  a  penitent  approached  the  con- 
fessional. I  watched.  She  whispered  her  avowal;  her  shrift  was  whispered 
back;  she  returned  consoled.  Another  went,  and  another.  A  pale  lady,  kneel- 
ing near  me,  said  in  a  low,  kind  voice : 

"  'Go  you  now,  I  am  not  quite  prepared.' 

"  Mechanically  obedient,  I  rose  and  went.  I  knew  what  I  was  about ;  my 
mind  had  run  over  the  intent  with  lightning-speed.  To  take  this  step  could 
not  make  me  more  wretched  than  I  was;  it  might  soothe  me. 

"The  priest  within  the  confessional  never  turned  his  eyes  to  regard  me; 
he  only  quietly  inclined  his  ear  to  my  lips.  I  said:  'Mon  pere,  je  suis  Prot- 
estante.'  He  inquired,  not  unkindly,  why,  being  a  Protestant,  I  came  to  him? 

"I  said  I  was  perishing  for  a  word  of  advice  or  an  accent  of  comfort.  I 
had  been  living  for  some  weeks  quite  alone;  I  had  been  ill;  I  had  a  pressure 
of  affliction  on  my  mind  of  which  it  would  hardly  any  longer  endure  the  weight. 

"  'Was  it  a  sin,  a  crime  ?'  he  inquired,  somewhat  startled. 

"I  reassured  him  on  this  point,  and,  as  well  as  I  could,  I  showed  him  the 
mere  outline  of  my  experience. 

"  He  looked  thoughtful,  surprised,  puzzled.  'You  take  me  unawares/  said  he. 
'I  am  hardly  furnished  with  counsel  fitting  the  circumstances/ 

"  Of  course,  I  had  not  expected  he  would  be ;  but  the  mere  relief  of  com- 
munication in  an  ear  which  was  human  and  sentient,  yet  consecrated — the 
mere  pouring  out  of  some  portion  of  long  accumulating,  long  pent-up  pain 
into  a  vessel  whence  it  could  not  be  again  diffused — had  done  me  good.  I  was 
already  solaced. 

"'Must  I  go,  Father?'  I  asked  of  him  as  he  sat  silent. 

"  'My  daughter/  he  said  kindly — and  I  am  sure  he  was  a  kind  man :  he  had 
a  compassionate  eye — 'for  the  present  you  had  better  go :  but  I  assure  you  your 
words  have  struck  me.  Confession,  like  other  things,  is  apt  to  become  formal 
and  trivial  with  habit.  You  have  come  and  poured  your  heart  out;  a  thing 
seldom  done.  I  would  fain  think  your  case  over,  and  take  it  with  me  to  my 
oratory.  Were  you  of  our  faith  I  should  know  what  to  say — a  mind  so  tossed 
can  find  repose  but  in  the  bosom  of  retreat,  and  the  punctual  practice  of  piety. 
The  world,  it  is  well  known,  has  no  satisfaction  for  that  class  of  natures. 
Holy  men  have  bidden  penitents  like  you  to  hasten  their  path  upward  by 
penance,  self-denial,  and  difficult  good  works.  Tears  are  given  them  here  for 
meat  and  drink — bread  of  affliction  and  waters  of  affliction — their  recompense 
comes  hereafter.  It  is  my  own  conviction  that  these  impressions  under  which 
you  are  smarting  are  messengers  from  God  to  bring  you  back  to  the  True  Church. 
You  were  made  for  our  faith:  depend  upon  it  our  faith  alone  could  heal  and 
help  you — Protestantism  is  altogether  too  dry,  cold,  prosaic  for  you.  The 
further  I  look  into  this  matter,  the  more  plainly  I  see  it  is  entirely  out  of  the 
common  order  of  things.  On  no  account  would  I  lose  sight  of  you.  Go, 
my  daughter,  for  the  present;  but  return  to  me  again/ 

"  I  rose  and  thanked  him.    I  was  withdrawing  when  he  signed  me  to  return. 

"  'You  must  not  come  to  this  church/  said  he :  'I  see  you  are  ill,  and  this 

church  is  too  cold;  you  must  come  to  my  house;  I  live '  (and  he  gave  me 

his  address).  'Be  there  to-morrow  morning  at  ten.' 

"In  reply  to  this  appointment,  I  only  bowed;  and  pulling  down  my  veil, 
and  gathering  round  me  my  cloak,  I  glided  away." 

And  then  Charlotte  Bronte  fears  that  perhaps  she  has  gone  too 
far,  that  the  smug  and  bigoted  ones  of  the  public  for  whom  she  wrote 
might  begin  to  believe  she  had  "  Roman  "  tendencies — and  not  read 


862  WITH  OUR  READERS  [Sept., 

her  books.  She  hastens  to  reassure  the  Protestant  reader  that  she 
was  wise  enough ;  that  he  need  not  fear  for  her  safety.  "  Did  I,  do  you 
suppose,  dear  reader,  contemplate  venturing  again  within  that  worthy 
priest's  reach?  As  soon  should  I  have  thought  of  walking  into  a 
Babylonish  furnace."  Nevertheless  she  must  record  that  the  priest 
"  was  kind  when  I  needed  kindness :  he  did  me  good.  May  Heaven 
bless  him." 

And  Charlotte  Bronte  realizes,  at  times,  that  Protestantism  was 
too  dry,  cold,  and  prosaic  for  her?  If  she  had  hastened  her  steps 
to  the  priest's  house,  would  she  not  also  have  hastened  her  path 
upward;  and  would  not  English  literature  have  been  still  further  en- 
riched because  Charlotte  Bronte  was  made  happier  and  had  seen  the 
cloud  lifted? 


THE  tendency  towards  prurient  discussions  recently  manifested 
and  furthered  in  many  of  our  magazines,  receives  a  fitting  rebuke 
in  the  columns  of  the  New  York  Sun  and  of  the  New  York  Times. 
Catholic  morality,  as  voiced  in  Catholic  journals,  has  often  and  vigor- 
ously called  attention  to  the  danger  resultant  upon  the  public  discussion 
of  sex  questions,  and  upon  the  purveying  of  loose  morality  in  articles 
and  works  of  fiction.  The  secular  press  is  being  aroused  to  this 
danger.  This  fact  serves,  indeed,  but  to  reveal  the  proportions  which 
the  evil  has  assumed;  but  it  likewise  gives  us  hope  that  the  healthier 
sense  of  morality  will  prevail. 

Under  the  caption  Flinging  Slime  in  the  Public's  Face,  the  New 
York  Sun  has  this  to  say: 

"  The  persons  who  have  complained  to  the  Postmaster-General  of  the  treat- 
ment of  sexual  matters  in  certain  magazines  and  weeklies,  have  attacked  a  grave 
and  disgusting  evil  of  this  time. 

"  Starting  under  the  specious  pretext  of  giving  needed  instruction  to  the 
young,  an  instruction  that  should  not  and  need  not  be  public,  the  virtuous 
exploiters  of  popular  credulity  and  ignorance  have  come  to  be  poisoners  of 
the  public  imagination,  inspirers  of  loathsome  ideas  and  images,  utterers 
of  foulness,  degraders  and  destroyers  of  innocence.  By  the  side  of  the  money 
they  make — and  they  would  not  stick  to  this  hypocritical-licentious  branch 
of  literature  if  they  didn't  make  money  out  of  it — Henry  Fielding's  'dirtiest 
money  in  the  world'  earned  by  a  Bow  Street  magistrate  is  angel  gold, 
and  even  the  wages  of  a  Broadway  bully  look  almost  respectable. 

"It  is  the  shameful  fact  that  some  abhorrent  article  or  picture  is  likely 
to  leap  at  the  eye  from  almost  any  page  of  certain  periodicals.  In  the 
name,  usually,  of  virtue  and  progress,  the  young  are  being  dishonored;  girls 
and  women  ought  to  be  safe,  and  are  not,  from  this  contamination.  It  looks 
at  them  from  every  news  stand.  The  civilization  of  Pompeii  ought  not  to  be, 
and  is,  inculcated  in  the  mellifluent  accents  of  Mr.  Chadband.  Babylon  is 
become  a  nest  of  every  unclean  bird. 

"Mr.  Burleson's  services  are  not  needed  for  the  suppression  of  these 
'improving'  obscenities,  these  labors,  whether  of  the  bigot  or  the  sensualist,  to 
make  a  United  States  in  which  is  no  heart  without  the  full  knowledge 


1913-]  WITH  OUR  READERS  863 

of  evil,  no  eye  without  some  unhealthy  gleam.  Punish  the  venders  of  impurity 
by  not  reading  them.  In  addition,  if  necessary,  lug  them  before  the  courts. 
The  remedy  for  this  spreading  disease  is  in  the  hands  of  the  public  whom  it 
infects." 

*  *  *  * 

THIS  protest  is  strong,  but  none  too  strong.  The  magazine  "  seek* 
ers  after  gold,"  not  long  since  with  surface  sanctimonious- 
ness, made  a  speciality  of  revealing  and  decrying  "  graf t "  in  all  its 
phases.  As  a  money-getter  this  pursuit  no  longer  brings  results. 
Now,  with  hardly  even  a  pretense  of  public  need  or  public  good, 
these  same  magazines,  through  their  pages,  are  begetting  a  race  of 
sensualists  and  hypocrites  that  will  prove  more  degrading  to  society 
than  all  the  "  grafters  "  on  the  globe.  One  sad  feature  connected 
with  their  unseemly  work  is  that  they  can  command  the  services  of 
authors  who  have  proved  that  they  possess  higher  instincts,  but  who, 
for  the  sake  of  the  penny,  become  ministers  to  indecency.  Every  pro- 
test possible,  through  the  spoken  and  the  written  word,  through  the 
invoking  of  the  law,  and  through  any  other  means  available,  should  be 
made  against  the  continuance  of  the  vile  food  that  many  magazines — 
especially  those  that  pretend  to  decency  but  have  it  not — set  before 
the  public. 


PLYMOUTH  was  the  scene  of  the  Fourth  Catholic  National  Con- 
1  gress  of  England.  The  Congress  itself  was  an  instance  of  that 
characteristic  which  was  most  prominent  in  the  papers  presented, 
namely,  Catholic  vitality.  This  vitality  showed  itself  first  in  a  recog- 
nition of  the  obstacles  that  oppose  themselves  to  the  advance  of  our 
religion.  His  Eminence  Cardinal  Bourne  said,  in  the  course  of  a 
searching  address :  "  It  is  one  purpose  of  these  National  Catholic 
Congresses  to  focus  attention  upon  some  points  of  more  urgent  interest 
and  to  see  how  actual  difficulties  can  be  met."  The  recognition  of  dif- 
ficulties and  defects  to  be  overcome,  did  not  deprive  the  Congress  of  its 
inspiriting  tone. 

The  topics  discussed  plainly  showed  the  power  of  Catholic  Faith, 
not  only  in  its  intimate  relation  to  the  individual,  but  also  to  the  social 
body.  The  Church  and  the  Living  Wage,  Temperance  Societies, 
Catholic  Insurance  Societies,  Our  Conception  of  Catholic  Federation,  a 
very  clear  exposition  by  Very  Rev.  Canon  Sharrock,  are  some  of  the 
subjects  calculated  to  awaken  or  sustain  the  interest  of  Catholics  in 
movements  towards  the  improvement  of  social  conditions. 
*  *  *  * 

OTHER  papers  and  addresses,  such  as  the   Cardinal's   inaugural 
address  on  Religious  Indifference,  Abbot  Gasquet's  sermon  on 
The  Tragedy  of  the  Reformation,  and  Father  McNabb's  unusual  pre- 
sentation of  the  relations  between  Catholics  and  Nonconformists,  deal 


864  BOOKS  RECEIVED  [Sept.,  1913.] 

more  directly  with  purely  religious  matters.  An  address  of  most 
hopeful  outlook  for  Christianity  in  England  was  given  by  Rev.  C.  C. 
Martindale,  S  J.  After  dwelling  upon  the  evil  results  of  the  process  of 
destructive  criticism,  so  noticeable  in  recent  years,  he  tells  of  the  re- 
vival of  interest  in  religious  matters  throughout  England.  In  doing  so 
he  draws  an  interesting  illustration  from  improved  conditions  in  France. 
The  world-wide  effect  of  such  a  Congress,  in  spite  of  the  present 
force  of  irreligion,  is  to  awaken  and  sustain  Catholic  zeal,  and  to  in- 
crease hopefulness  in  the  Catholic  heart. 


BOOKS  RECEIVED. 

BENZIGER  BROTHERS,  New  York: 

The  "  Summa  Theologica"  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas.  Part  III.  Vol.  I.  Trans- 
lated by  Fathers  of  the  English  Dominican  Province.  $2.00  net.  Flowers 
of  the  Cloister.  By  Sister  Mary  Wilfrid  La  Motte.  $1.25.  Christ's  Cadets. 
By  C.  C.  Martindale,  SJ.  35  cents  net.  The  Maid  of  Spinges.  By  Mrs. 
Edward  Wayne.  85  cents  net. 
LONGMANS,  GREEN  &  Co.,  New  York: 

The   New   Testament.     The    Epistle   to   the   Thessalonians.     By    Rev.    Cuthbert 
Lattey,   SJ.     Paper,   20  cents  net ;  boards,   40   cents  net.     Gracechurch.     By 
John   Ayscough.     $1.75   net. 
AMERICAN  BOOK  Co.,  New  York : 

Standard  Catholic  Readers.     By  Mary  E.  Doyle.  .  First  Year,  20  cents ;  second 
Year,    30    cents.     Third    Year    to    Eighth    Year,    35    cents    each.     Political 
Economy   for    Catholic    Colleges,   High   Schools,    and   Academies.     By    E.   J. 
Burke,   SJ.     $1.40. 
H.  W.  GRAY  Co.,  New  York: 

Twenty-Two  Hymns.     (Music.)     By  Franklin   Hopkins.     50  cents. 
OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  New  York : 

The  Dominican  Order  and  Convocation.     By  Ernest   Barker,   M.A.     3  s.  net. 
H.  L.  KILNER  &  Co.,  Philadelphia: 

Ronald's    Mission.     By    Henriette    E.    Delamare.     60    cents. 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  Co.,  Philadelphia : 

The  Woman  Thou  Gavest  Me.     By  Hall  Caine.     $1.35  net. 
JOHN  MURPHY  Co.,  Baltimore : 

Lessons  in  English  Literature.     By  J.  O'Kane  Murray,  M.A. 
B.  HERDER,  St.  Louis : 

The  New  France.     By  W.  S.  Lilly.     $2.25  net. 
W.   B.   CONKEY,   Hammond,   Indiana : 

Religious  Orders  of  Women  in  the  United  States.     By  E.  T.  Dehey.     $3.00  net. 
G.  LYALL,  London: 

'   Homely  Thoughts  on  the  Method  of  Spiritual  Science  Explained  and  Applied 

to  the  Gospel  According  to  Saint  John.     By  John  Coutts.     2  d. 
R.  &  T.  WASHBOURNE,   LTD.,   London : 

Sister  Mary  of  St.  Francis,  S.N.D.     Edited  by  Dom  Bede  Camm,  O.S.B.     5  s.  net. 
AUSTRALIAN   CATHOLIC  TRUTH    SOCIETY,   Melbourne : 

The    Church.     By    Rev.    Dr.    Keane,    O.P.     Spiritualism    and    Christianity.     By 

Rev.   P.  J.  Manly.     Pamphlets,     i   penny. 
P.  LETHIELLEUX,  Paris: 

Le  Deplacement  Administratif  Des  Cures.     Par  1'Abbe  A.  Villien.     3  frs.  50. 
GABRIEL  BEAUCHESNE,  Paris : 

"  Hors  de  I'Eglise,  pas  de  Salut."     Par  J,-V.  Bainvel.     o  fr.  75. 


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