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THE 


GLOBE 


QUARTERLY  REVIEW  OF  LITERATURE,  SOCIETY, 

RELIGION,  ART  AND 

POLITICS 


CONDUCTKD  By 

WILLIAM  HENRY   THORNE 

Author  of  "  Modern  Idols,"  Etc. 


VOLUME  III 


1892-93 


CHICAGO,  ILLINOIS 


Copyright,  1889,  hy  W.  H.  Thome 


CONTENTS    OF   VOL.   Ill    OF   GLOBE    REVIEW. 


A  Chat  About  Art  and  Authors Anna  Cox  Stephens  .    .    .  380 

A  Few  Gkrman  Lyrics Caroline  D.  Swan  ....  360 

An  Idkal  School W.  H.  Thome 145 

A  Study  of  Facbs "          "          213 

"  Better  Days,  or  a  Millionaire  of  To-Morrow  "  Edward  E.  Cothran   ...  122 

Catholicity  and  the  American  Mind Georife  Parsons  Lathrop  .  180 

Cosmotheism  versus  Catholicism W.  H.  Thome 22 

Dreams  of  Evolution Elizabeth  A.  Adams  .    .    .  280 

Durward's  Epic  of  Columbus W.  H.  Thome 367 

EoAN's  Songs  and  Sonnets "          "          843 

Emperor  William's  Education  Bill "          "         80 

First  and  Last  Love George  B.  GriflSth     ...  170 

Fresh  Breezes  from  Behrino  Sea W.  H.  Thome 113 

George  W.  cubtis  &  Co ." "          "         167 

GiROLAMO  Savonarola Mildred  Webb 383 

Glimpses  of  World  Literature W.  H.Thome 101 

Gi-OBE  Notes "  "  95, 185, 301, 396 

Huxley  on  Controverted  Questions Thomas  Whalen    ....  333 

Ingersoll  in  a  New  Light W.  H.  Thome 270 

Isabella,  the  Woman  and  Queen  .    .    • Mary  Josephine  Onahan  .  203 

Lincoln  and  War  Times W.  H.  Thome 169 

Martin  Luther "          "          91 

Modern  Theosophy Merwin-Marie  Snell  .    .    .  227 

Open  the  Exposition  on  Sundays ,    .    .  W.  H.  Thome 287 

Our  Anti-Foreign  Legislation "          *          77 

Our  Columbian  Encore "          "         284 

Our  Hawaiian  Conspiracy,  Etc "          "         379 

POETRY : 

A  God  of  Judgment Caroline  D.  Swan  ....  144 

A  Touch  op  Natubb W.  H.  Tborne 143 

Life ^          "         21 

Love's  Coming "          "         37 

Love's  Meeting "          "         57 

Love's  Remembrancs    .    - "          "          76 

Love's  Divinity "          "          90 

My  Heart's  Desire Evelyn  L.  Gilmore    ...  138 

The  Blizzard Charles  F.  Finley  ....  404 

The  Old  Year  and  the  Nbw W.  H.  Thome 308 

To  Leslie Edward  E.  Cothran  ...  144 

Personal  and  Pertinent W.  H.  Thome 176 

Positive  Religion "          "         68 

Prayers  to  the  Virgin  and  the  Saints "          "         127 

Public  and  Parochial  Schools     ,...-...       "          "          309 

Rain  and  the  Rain-Makers "          "         329 

Senator  Quay  and  Sunday  Closing "          "         387 

Social  Vices  in  American  Colonies "          "         32 

Souvenirs  of  a  Diplomat "          "          83 

Swinburne's  Roundels "          "         62 

Tennyson  and  Whittier "          "          246 

Tennyson's  Two  Voices "          "         37 

Time's  Symphont •    .    .    .  Mary  R.  Denton    ....  165 

Tips Charles  M.  Skinner    ...  HI 

The  Meditative  Poets Caroline  D.  Swan  ....  137 

The  Fate  of  Irish  Leaders J.  G.  Hely 3i4 

Theosophy  on  Stilts w.  H.  Thome :.'33 

The  Science  of  Comparative  Religion Merwin-Marie  Snell  ...  366 

The  Spiritualization  of  Thought,  Etc W.  H.  Thome 64 

The  Vagaries  of  Modern  Thought "          "         1 

The  Stupidest  Man  on  Earth "          '*          197 

*'  The  Wisdom  of  Goethe  " "          "          17« 

The  World  Problem  and  Litbratitrb Walter  Blackburn  Harte  .  2hi 

Thomas  William  Parsons Eliza  Allen  Starr  ....  238 

What  o»  Oua  White  Slaves  ? W.  H.  Thorne 67 


PREFACE. 

"Being  an  author  of  distinction,  and  a  literary  man  of  experi- 
ence and  superior  judgment  and  taste,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
Mr.  Thorne  gives  us,  every  three  months,  so  admirable  and  com- 
prehensive a  review  of  the  several  important  fields  which  he  has 
chosen  to  investigate.  The  number  issued  October  1st  is  brim- 
ming over  with  "good  things,"  and  will  be  greatly  enjoyed  by 
readers  who  appreciate  the  best  in  composition  and  the  noblest 
thought  of  the  human  mind.  We  have  no  better  Quarterly  pub- 
lished in  the  country  than  The  Globe." — Commercial  List  and 
Price-Current,  Philadelphia. 


THE   GLOBE. 

NO.  IX. 


MAY,  1892. 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT. 


When  Carlyle.  in  speaking  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  of 
the  Anglican  Church,  once  asked,  with  characteristic  indigna- 
tion— "  Did  the  Almighty  make  his  universe  by  you  then?" — 
he  expressed  in  a  line  the  average  attitude  of  the  scientific  in- 
telligence of  the  ninteenth  century  toward  orthodox  Christian 
theology  ;  and  when,  time  and  again,  he  laughed  to  scorn  his 
own  putting  of  the  Darwinian  theory,  that  the  human  race  had 
grown  from  *'  frog-spawn,"  he  uttered,  in  one  word,  the  whole 
mind  of  Christendom  toward  the  gospel  of  evolution  as 
preached  and  accepted  by  the  science  of  our  time.  Perhaps  he 
was  half  right,  and  that  both  of  our  received  infallible  creeds 
are  half  wrong. 

The  very  greatest  minds  of  the  ninteenth  century — Bis- 
marck, Hugo,  Carlyle,  Ruskin,  Emerson,  Phillips — though  as 
free-minded  as  angels  or  devils,  and  open  to  all  sorts  of  con- 
victions, would  nevertheless  have  fallen  to  sleep  or  to  cursing 
over  the  best  pages  in  the  works  of  Darwin  or  Spencer,  or  they 
might  have  read  the  same  to  find  out  what  fools  these  scientif- 
ic mortals  be.  Eagles  do  not  like  to  be  caged,  are  apt  to  beat 
their  wings  or  your  cages  to  pieces  if  you  cage  them.  So 
"  Mother  Goose  for  Old  Folks  "  embraces  us  all  in  saying  or 
singing,  "Chain  up  a  child,  and  away  he  will  go."  Chains  and 
creeds  are  for  slaves. 

The  expressed  indignation  referred  to  is  not  peculiar  to 
Carlyle.     Mr.  Ruskin  burns  to  white  heat  in  dealing  with  the 


9  THE  GLOBE. 

scientific  botonists  who  cover  the  flowers  of  God's  world  with 
a  contemptible  Latin  jargon  and  call  that  an  explanation  of 
the  flora  of  the  earth.  Fortunately  or  unfortunately  he  finds 
no  more  comprehensive  satisfaction  in  the  treatises  of  the 
mineralogists  on  diamonds  and  crystals.  My  own  experience, 
covering  a  period  of  over  thirty  years  of  constant  and  loving 
intercourse  with  nature,  teaches  me  that  I  always  get  more 
enjoyment,  and  a  better  understanding  of  the  flowers,  the 
mountains,  the  dawn,  and  sunset  and  the  stars,  the  less  I  en- 
cumber myself  with  or  try  to  apply  to  these  living,  burning, 
ever-changing  divinities  the  dry  and  sapless  nomenclature  of 
so-called  scientific  literature.  There  is  no  true  science  or 
poetry  but  that  which  feels,  touches  and  pictures  the  soul  and 
meaning  of  things. 

By  latest  measurements  of  the  psychoscope — an  instrument 
invented  by  a  demented  Englishman  formerly  serving  his 
country  in  the  Soudan,  and  used  at  this  moment  by  our  country- 
man Stanley  in  his  march  through  Africa,  as  telephoned  to  me 
from  a  special  agent  in  Hades — one  Jonathan  Swift  had  by  a 
large  fraction  more  intellect  and  honor  in  his  rejected  head  and 
soul  than  were  elsewhere  to  be  found  in  the  total  British  Em- 
pire of  his  day.  A  careful  study  of  Dr.  McCoshand  the  latest 
German  psychology  convinces  me  that  .such  measurements  are 
not  always  to  be  trusted  ;  may,  in  fact,  be  wisely  enough  kicked 
to  dust  and  spit  upon.  Still,  by  the  sublime  Darwin-Spencer 
law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Swift  appears  clearly  to  have 
been,  though  a  chained  and  whining  slave,  the  supreme  master 
of  his  age. 

In  "Gulliver's  Travels"  you  will  find  the  best  of  Spencer 
and  Darwin  without  their  platitudes  and  scientific  conceit.  In 
the  "  Tale  of  a  Tub  "  you  will  find  the  best  of  "  Sartor  Resartus  " 
without  any  of  Carlyle's  endless  egoism.  In  Swift's  "Draper's 
Letters"  you  will  find  a  very  lucid  estimate  of  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton, minus  the  theory  of  gravitation.  And  in  Swift's  Irish 
pamphlet,  "  A  Modern  Proposal  for  Preventing  the  Children 
of  the  Poor  People  in  Ireland  from  becoming  a  Burden  on 
their  Parents  or  Country  and  for  making  them  Beneficial  to  the 
Public,"  all  the  Anti-Chinese,  Anti-Pauper  Labor,  High  Tariff, 
vapid  master-workmen  and  other  statesmen  of  our  day  may 
find  more  Christian  and  helpful  philosophy  than  their  com- 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  8 

bined  thinkings,  endeavors  and  laws  have  yet  revealed.  In  a 
word,  Mr.  Swift  was  as  respectful  toward  the  statesmanship, 
scholarship,  science  and  theology  of  his  day  as  Mr.  Carlyle  was 
toward  Mr.  Darwin's  gospel  of  frog-spawn  in  his  day. 

It  is  possible  that  what  is  known  as  Swift's  infidelity  and 
brutality  toward  "Stella,"  and  Carlyle's  harshness  toward  his 
wife,  plus  his  softness  toward  Lady  Ashburton,  and  Mr.  Rusk- 
in's  moral  weakness  or  obliquity  in  allowing  his  wife  such  an 
easy  divorce,  so  entailing  all  the  crimes  of  the  New  Testament 
indicated  in  such  cases,  may  have  blinded  or  blunted  their  men- 
tal, moral  and  spiritual  vision,  and  that  Mr.  Darwin  and  Mr. 
Spencer,  plus  the  entire  brood  of  scientists  of  lesser  names,  all 
of  them  bei/ig  the  spotless  saints  we  know  them  to  be,  and  hav- 
ing walked  with  God  from  their  youth  up,  have  seen  his  real 
truth  and  uttered  it  for  the  eternal  good  of  man  and  to  the  eter- 
nal honor  of  this  generation!  There  is  no  doubt  that  a  man's 
conduct  shapes  his  real  creed.  He  that  doeth  the  will  of  God 
knows  the  doctrine  or  truth  of  God,  and  the  other  gentleman 
does  not,  though  he  quibble  over  it  till  doomsday.  Perhaps 
these  men  should  have  tamed  their  shrews  and  so  have  grown 
really  wise. 

For  my  own  part,  although  I  was  called  infidel  and  atheist 
for  daring  to  defend  Darwin  and  Spencer  in  the  pulpit  as  early 
as  1870,  when  to  defend  them  meant  alike  study  and  some  sac- 
rifice, I  am  inclined  to  denounce  as  utter  foam  and  trash  the 
words  of  any  man  who  would  place  them  and  their  like  morally 
or  mentally  above  Swift  or  Ruskin  or  Carlyle.  Of  all  men 
your  theorizers  are  fools.  I  think  that  an  article  by  General 
W.  T.  Sherman  on  the  "  Grand  Tactics  of  our  Civil  War,"  pub 
lished  in  the  Century  Magazine,  A.  D.  1887,  contains  more  mili- 
taty  science,  more  brain,  more  eventual  teaching  power,  than 
you  will  find  in  all  the  rest  of  the  literature  of  the  American 
Civil  War.  It  was  not  written  by  the  light  of  Spencer's  Bio- 
logy or  Darwin's  Evolution.  Were  Marathon  and  Gettysburg 
won  by  Mr.  Galton's  theories  of  Hereditary  Genius  or  by  the 
principles  of  Sociology?  Were  Jesus  and  Paul  the  offspring 
of  orthodox  creeds?     Let  us  study  the  salient  points  of  time. 

Swear  not  at  all,  neither  by  Spencer  nor  Dickens  ;  they  are 
only  story-tellers,  each  in  his  way,  mere  ventilators  of  an  over- 
crowded very   gaseous   age.     Many   intelligent    English    and 


4  THE  GLOBE. 

American  families  are  at  this  hour,  spite  of  all  their  geograph- 
ies, astronomies  and  high-school  and  college  training,  inclined 
to  believe  that  the  earth  we  live  on  is  not  round  at  all;  that, 
round  or  flat,  it  is,  after  all,  the  center  of  the  universe;  that  it 
is  nothing  like  as  old  as  geologists  have  dreamed  and  then 
proved  it  to  be;  that,  in  fact,  it  might  readily  have  been  made 
outright,  about  six  thousand  years  ago  and  in  six  literal  days. 

As  for  the  Newtonian  theory  of  gravitation  and  all  the  con- 
clusions of  astronomy  built  thereon,  the  commonest  star-gazer 
with  any  free  reasoning  power  in  the  head  of  him,  knows  that 
Newtonianism  is  not  half  true.  Other  scientists  than  Newton 
have  long  ago  proved  that,  if  the  Newtonian  theory  were  true,. 
the  "solar  universe"  would  have,  must  have  collapsed  ages 
ago.  By  the  accepted  law  of  gravitation  the  rings  of  Saturn 
would  centuries  ago,  have  fallen  into  the  arms  of  that  planet 
embracing  him,  and  have  been  crushed,  of  course. 

In  all  ancient  and  modern  superstition  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  a  stupider  belief  than  that  of  our  modern,  scientific,, 
lunar  theory  of  the  tides.  Idol-worship  and  the  old  theories 
of  demonology  were  the  wisdom  of  sages  compared  with  our 
lunar  gospel  of  tides.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  steam-engine,  the  telegraph  and  the  telephone  are  all  in- 
carnations of  the  devil,  sent  here  on  purpose  to  choke  and  be- 
wilder the  human  race  with  mere  vanity  and  smoke,  and  that 
foul  air  known  as  the  teachings  of  physical  science. 

The  extreme  antiquity  of  our  planet  is  proved  to  me  by 
nothing  half  so  clearly  as  by  the  utter  dotage  of  the  leading 
scientists,  statesmen,  philosophers  and  theologians  of  my  own 
generation.  Joseph  Cook  is  the  only  live  man  of  all  this 
crowd,  and  everybody  knows  that  he  should  never  have  been 
allowed  to  escape  from  the  insane  asylum  in  which  he  was  long 
confined.  Our  newspaper  men  are  not  theorists,  and  they  are 
many  of  them,  alive  and  wake  to  the  great  issues  of  the  times, 
but  precisely  as  a  lot  of  rats  in  their  grandfathers'  barn;  that 
is,  for  grain  and  gain. 

If  any  intelligent  man  wishes  to  realize,  with  overwhelming 
certainty,  into  what  utter  and  contemptible  depths  of  imbecility 
our  modern,  scientific,  practical  intellect  has  fallen,  let  him 
make  a  careful  study  of  the  tariff  and  Free  Trade  literature  pro- 
duced in  and  by  our  American  Presidential  campaign  of  1888. 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  5* 

Take  it  all,  from  ocean  to  ocean,  and  from  the  Lakes  to  the 
Gulf,  not  omitting  the  able  pamphlets  of  Hon.  A.  K.  McClure 
on  *'  Free  Wool,"  or  of  Commodore  William  M.  Singerly  on 
"Silks,"  or  of  Deacon  John  Calvin  Judas  Wannamaker  on 
*'  Cows."  They  are  all  learned  and  honorable  men  and  mostly 
millionaires.  If  you  are  not  then  convinced  of  the  simple 
Christian  truth  of  my  proposition,  read  over  again  Edward 
Everett  Hale's  Tom  Tory's  Tariff  Talks  on  "Jack  Knives"  and 
Socinian  bribes. 

Mr.  Richard  A.  Proctor  did  not  die  any  too  soon.  I  appre- 
hend that  the  common  sense  of  the  ninteenth  century  would 
soon  have  mobbed  him  for  a  charlatan,  if  heaven's  own  Balaam's 
ass  had  not  in  a  timely  moment  sent  him  into  his  own  chosen 
regions  of  dreams. 

If  you  wish  to  know  what  a  man  of  science,  gold-ridden, 
may  become,  read  carefully  Mr.  Proctor's  latest  articles  in  the 
Sunday  issues  of  the  Philadelphia  Times  and  Press  during  the 
spring  and  summer  of  1888.  If  you  say  it  is  hardly  fair  to 
judge  a  man  by  his  newspaper  science,  I  agree  with  you;  and, 
to  avoid  the  trouble  of  referring  to  newspaper  files,  here  are  a 
few  sentences  taken  almost  at  random  from  the  "Mysteries  of 
Time  and  Space,"  published  in  1883,  pages  225-227,  on  Dangers 
from  Comets  : 

"When  we  consider,  however,  how  vastly  the  comet  of  1843 
has  been  exceeded  in  volume  and  presumably  in  mass  by  other 
known  comets,  and  the  wide  range  of  disparity  in  splendor 
among  comets  already  observed  (showing  that  probably  even 
the  largest  observed  may  be  but  small  compared  with  some 
comets  which  exist  but  have  not  yet  been  seen),  we  see  that 
the  kind  of  danger  shown  by  the  motions  of  the  comet  of  1843 
to  be  real  enough  m.ay,  in  the  case  of  other  and  much  larger 
comets,  be  not  only  real  but  great.  Such  a  comet,  for  instance, 
as  that  of  181 1,  which,  though  it  never  approached  the  sun 
within  90,000,000  miles,  yet  displayed  greater  splendor  and 
greater  cometic  development  than  comets  which  have  all  but 
grazed  the  solar  surface,  would  be  a  very  dangerous  visitor,  if 
its  course  chanced  \o  be  so  directed  as  to  carry  it  straight  to- 
ward the  sun.  And  there  may  well  be  comets  as  far  exceeding 
that  of  181 1  as  this  exceeded  the  comet  of  1843,  while  the 
course  of  any  comet  may  well  chance  to  be  so  directed  as  to 


6  THE  GLOBE. 

carry  it  straight  toward  the  very  center  of  the  sun  instead  of 
passing  grazingly  by  his  orb  as  did  the  comet  of  1843.  O^ 
course  the  chance  of  a  very  large  comet  visiting  the  solar  sys- 
tem on  just  such  a  course  is  exceedingly  minute.  Still  the 
event  is  altogether /£?5«^/r."  All  things  are  possible  with  God 
— and  with  quacks. 

Here,  in  the  midst  and  body  of  accepted  scientific  "shot 
rubbish,"  in  less  than  half  a  page,  are  ten  chances,  maybes-  and 
possibles,  all  to  say  what  any  fool  knows,  namely,  that  there 
may  be  something  in  nature  a  deuced  sight  more  dangerous 
than  anything  we  have  ever  seen,  and  if  that  thing  should 
come  and  hit  us,  there  might  be  a  regular  Sullivan  knock-out, 
unless,  like  Mr.  Charles  Mitchell,  the  solar  system  had,  mean- 
while, learned  how  to  dodge. 

Again,  and  on  the  same  theme,  our  scientific  vagary-maker 
adds,  "If  any  sun  among  the  millions,  the  tens,  nay,  the  hun- 
dreds of  millions  visible  in  the  telescope,  should  sustain  the  di- 
rect impact  of  a  very  large  comet  and  should  thereby  for  a 
short  time  increase  greatly  in  heat  and  luster,  that  sun  would, 
during  that  time,  be  visible  without  telescopic  aid.  Probably 
even  the  faintest  star,  which  the  most  powerful  telescope  can 
just  show  us,  would  become  visible  to  the  naked, eye  during 
such  an  outburst  of  light  and  heat." 

On  the  margin  of  page  227,  just  opposite  this  last  paragraph 
I  find  the  following  in  pencil:  "More  propably  the  naked  eye 
and  foolish  tongue  would  both  be  closed  and  hushed  in  quiet 
enough  and  humble  silence  before  such  an  impact  and  out- 
burst." But  when  a  man  harnesses  the  stars  to  rhetoric  and 
rides  like  a  young  American  millionaire  with  his  first  team  and 
spurs,  what  can  you  e^icpect  but  nonsense?  Even  the  Phila- 
delphia Public  Ledger,  fawning  and  sickly  as  it  is,  comes  nearer 
to  real  facts  in  its  praises  of  hack  politicians  and  its  Saturday 
editorials  on  "Squinting  as  a  Fine  Art"  and  the  "  Morals  of 
Modern  Pigsties."  Yet  I  hold  in  common  with  the  newspapers 
that  hired  him  that  Mr.  Proctor  was  one  of  the  livest  and  best 
informed  scientists  of  our  time. 

The  best  pages  of  Darwin  and  Spencer  are  no  nearer  to  fact 
than  these  vagaries  I  have  quoted;  and  as  for  the  outpourings 
of  their  imitators  in  the  so-called  scientific  journals,  they  are 
mere  flingings  of  hash  that  has  already  been  plucked  by  vul- 
tures and  dogs. 


'  THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  7 

The  most  ordinary  observations  of  common  sense  are  suffi- 
cient to  convince  any  intelligent  person  that  nearly  all  depart- 
ments of  theoretical  and  practical  science  are  quite  as  full  of 
guesses  and  vagaries  as  is  Mr.  Proctor's  cometology  of  spots 
and  star-gleams.  If  you  have  the  toothache  and  consult  three 
dentists  instead  of  one,  each  man  will  make  a  different  diag- 
nosis, prognosis,  and  be  ready  to  apply  at  least  three  methods 
of  repair,  any  one  of  which  may  or  may  not  be  a  success  Na- 
ture is  intricate,  they  will  tell  you,  and  so  many  unknown 
causes  and  conditions  enter  alike  into  the  wounding  and  the 
cure  of  a  man.  "  Is  there  any  law  of  cure?"  This  question 
was  often  put  to  me,  years  ago,  by  a  famous  doctor  now  dead. 
Does  not  science  teach  that  nature's  laws  are  unvarying,  inex- 
orable? Certainly,  with  one  breath,  and  with  the  next  pro- 
ceeds to  alter  nature  at  every  pore.  I  am  not  ridiculing  these 
"wonders  of  science."  They  are,  doubtless,  the  best  men  have 
been  able  to  produce  with  such  heads  and  facts  as  have  been 
at  their  disposal.  Each  separate  diagnosis  is,  no  doubt,  a 
proof  of  the  independence  and  individuality  of  modern  civil- 
ized minds;  and,  perhaps,  civilization  is  about  to  reach  the 
same  conclusions  in  science,  morals  and  theology  that  certain 
modern  schools  of  art  have  reached,  viz:  that  nothing  is  really 
a  matter  of  real  truth  or  beauty,  but  only  that  which  seems 
like  truth  or  beauty,  say,  to  the  eyes  and  minds  of  clowns. 

I  am  convinced,  however,  that  theology  as  I  learned  it  in 
the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  New  York  City,  nearly  thirty 
years  ago,  was  even  then  a  progressive  and  liberal  science 
compared  with  the  unsettled  vagaries  taught  as  dental  and 
medical  science  in  our  days,  The  famous  Yankee  tricks  of 
guessing  and  whittling  have,  in  fact,  invaded  all  our  institu- 
tions of  learning,  filling  the  heads  of  millions  of  scientists  and 
pedants  with  the  flimsiest  conceits  in  the  place  of  such  knowl- 
edge as  was  clear  enough  in  many  corners  of  this  world  before 
our  modern  habit  of  guessing  and  swearing  by  it  as  God's 
truth  became  popular  and  worshiped  as  a  scientific  God. 

The  other  day  a  learned  professor  of  physiology,  an  old 
friend  of  mine,  in  conversation  with  me,  was  ridiculing  the  en- 
tire Hebrew  cosmogony — "  The  idea  that  some  God  made  this 
world  in  six  days  and  formed  a  man  out  of  the  dust  of  the 
ground — the  idea!"     People  at  all  familiar  with  my  course  of 


8  THE  GLOBE. 

life  and  teaching  know  that  I  have  never  been  accused  of  ultra- 
orthodoxy;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  found,  from  the  final 
demands  of  reason  applied  to  any  crisis  of  human  belief  and 
human  history  and  applied  also  to  the  facts  of  nature  as  far  as 
I  have  been  able  to  trace  them,  that  the  spirit  of  the  Hebrew 
cosmogony  w/r«^,  and  that  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  true  ;  and, 
above  all  things,  I  have  never  been  able,  quietly,  to  endure  the 
vapid  harangues  of  mere  untaught  worldlings,  like  Ingersoll 
and  the  scientists,  when  they  have  undertaken  to  blaze  away 
against  the  "mistakes  of  Moses,"  the  "crudeness  of  Jesus," 
and  the  "  bigotries  of  Paul." 

In  the  present  instance  I  said  to  my  friend  In  God's  name, 
did  you  or  any  of  your  professors  or  ancestors  make  this  world 
in  six  days  or  sixty  millions  of  days?  Plainly  some  being  or 
thing,  stronger  and  wiser  than  you  or  I,  made  the  world;  and 
as  to  the  time  taken  in  the  operation,  do  you  know  how  long 
it  took  to  complete  the  business?  Does  Mr.  Ingersoll  know? 
Does  any  man  know?  For  that  matter,  I  said,  there  appear  to 
be  many  reasons  for  believing  that  a  God  of  sufficient  dimen- 
sions might  have  done  the  business  in  six  literal  days.  "Cer- 
tainly," said  my  friend,  "  God  might  have  done  it,  but  did  he?" 
My  answer  was  that  I  did  not  feel  obliged  to  say  that  he  did  or 
to  define  the  God  that  did  it;  nor  were  we,  any  of  us,  obliged  to 
receive  John  Calvin's  or  Mr.  Ingersoll's  or  Mr.  Gladstone's  dic- 
tum on  that  phase  of  the  question.  But  that  the  Almighty  and 
omniscient  Spirit  or  Soul  of  the  universe  did  make  this  planet 
out  of  various  old  mud  and  bones  I  had  no  doubt,  and  that  the 
same  Almighty  did  make  man  out  of  the  dust  or  common  ele- 
ments of  this  world,  and  did,  in  his  own  way,  breathe  into  or 
charge  man  with  life,  breath,  soul — perhaps  even  with  a  peculiar 
life  or  soul  above  the  vegetable  and  animal  kingdom — I  had 
no  doubt. 

"Certainly,"  said  my  friend,  "but  he  did  not  take  up  the 
dust  in  his  hands  and  pat  it  and  pet  it  and  puff  at  it  a  little  as 
a  sculptor  does  his  clay — except  the  puflfiing— and  so  make  a 
man." 

My  answer  again  was,  I  am  not  saying  how  God  did  it.  Be- 
cause the  Puritans  were  mostly  Boors,  who  understood  only 
prose  and  Puritan  bigotry,  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be 
robbed  of  the  glowing  poetry  of  the  Hebrew  cosmogony  or  of 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  TH OUGHT.  %■ 

the  divine  and  eternal  spiritual  truth  it  was  meant  to  convey. 

"Certainly  not,"  said  my  friend;  **  call  it  poetry  with  a  truth 
and  I  am  with  you."  Well,  well,  scholars  all  know  that  the 
allegories  of  the  Bible — of  any  and  all  bibles— have  never  been 
taken  literally  except  by  bigots  and  children. 

Must  a  man  deny  God  because  a  few  thousand  half-taught 
priests  and  clergymen  have  misunderstood  and  chained  up  the 
soul  and  meaning  of  the  Hebrew  Genesis  and  the  Christian 
redemption?  Is  not  the  world  here?  And  its  sin  and  sorrow, 
are  they  not  here?  And  is  rot  the  spirit  of  Jesus  the  one  and 
only  scientific  principleyet  discovered  for  the  healing  and  cure 
of  sin  and  the  proper  elevation  of  the  human  race? 

So  I  found,  as  I  have  often  found  before,  that  when  you 
face  a  scientist  with  a  fact,  he  will  dodge  like  a  politician.  In 
fact,  for  a  generation  it  has  been  growing  clearer  and  clearer 
to  me  that  men  of  untought  and  insincere  theories  and  beliefs, 
no  matter  how  thick  and  strong  and  wilful  their  lower  jaws, 
will  play  snake  and  chameleon  in  sight  of  a  clear  ray  of  the 
sun,  as  our  admired  friend,  Mr.  Shakespeare,  puts  it,  between 
Hamlet  and  Polonius: 

Ham.  Do  you  see  yonder  cloud  that's  almost  in  shape  of 
a  camel? 

Pol.     By  the  mass,  and  'tis  like  a  camel,  indeed. 

Ham.     Methinks  it  is  like  a  weasel. 

Pol.     It  is  backed  like  a  weasel. 

Ham.     Or  like  a  whale? 

Pol.     Very  like  a  whale. 

I  have  never  found  any  science  or  man  of  science  that  was 
at  heart  more  settled,  especially  in  anything  and  everything  re- 
lating to  anthropology,  theology  and  the  like,  than  was  old 
Polonius,  then  already  far  on  the  road  toward  becoming  food 
for  maggots. 

When  I  ask  my  friend,  the  famous  professor  of  oral  and 
cranial  statics,  what  happens  to  the  blood  and  nerves  and 
muscles  and  bones  and  skin  and  soul  of  a  man's  face  and  head 
when  he  falls  asleep,  or  what  is  the  simple  physical  condition 
of  sleep  as  compared  with  the  condition  of  wakefulness,  he 
usually  does  not  know.  He  intimates,  cautiously,  that  there  is 
apparently,  or  supposed  to  be,  a  less  rapid  or  forceful  teijdency 
of  blood  to  the  head,  but  that  the  matter  of  sleep  is  not  per- 


10  THE  GLOBE. 

fectly  understood.  I  knew  as  much  from  boyhood.  Plainly 
Isaiah  and  Daniel  knew  as  much  of  the  physical  aspects  of  the 
subject  two  thousand  years  ago,  and  knew  a  great  deal  more  of 
the  spiritual  aspects  of  sleep  than  my  friend,  the  professor, 
knows  or  has  ever  taken  pains  to  learn  from  them  or  else- 
where. 

In  the  place  of  physical  knowledge,  such  as,  it  seems  to  me^ 
a  modern  professor  of  oral  and  cranial  science  ought  to  possess 
and  be  able  to  convey,  I  am  treated  to  a  lot  of  ten-times  di- 
luted talk  about  Plato,  the  ego  and  non-ego,  or  a  psychic  per- 
formance in  the  dark,  and  a  pack  of  rat-hole  nonsense  on 
spiritism — stuff  that  I  had  choked  over  a  score  of  years  be- 
fore my  friend  of  the  oral  science  turned  away  from  the  art 
of  money-making  for  an  hour  to  study  the  modern  freaks  of 
ghosts  or  the  ancient  moonshine  of  Mr.  Plato.  I  want  to  find 
an  oral  and  cranial  scientist  who  has  actually  studied  the 
physical  make-up  and  moods  of  the  human  head,  waking  and 
sleeping. 

Any  clown  can  cut  up  a  cat  and  put  its  dead  tail,  or  a 
single  hair  of  it,  under  a  microscope,  or  gaze  at  the  sun  through 
a  telescope,  and  talk  wisely  about  its  spots,  which,  for  ought 
the  clown  knows,  may  be  spots  millions  of  miles  away  from  the 
sun — not  on  or  in  the  sun  at  all — mere  fly-specks  on  the  clown's 
own  eyeballs,  or  on  the  lenses  of  his  instrument,  or  a  few 
shreds  of  Elijah's  garment  still  floating  somewhere  between 
the  earth  and  the  sun.  Nothing  lies  like  a  telescope  or  a  mi- 
croscope, except,  perhaps,  tariff  statistics,  the  records  of 
seances  or  a  thorough-going  Calvinistic  deacon. 

If  a  man  takes  a  brisk  walk  of  four  or  five  miles  in  good 
air  he  may  find  that  there  is  a  distribu^tion  of  human  blood, 
less  in  the  head  and  more  in  the  feet,  very  like  that  in  the  con- 
dition of  sleep.  But  even  a  professor  of  oral  and  cranial 
science  would  admit,  if  pressed,  that  there  may  be  a  difference 
between  walking  and  sleeping,  though  some  persons  have 
walked  in  their  sleep.  Alas!  science  and  theology  and  almost 
every  mortal  thing  but  the  newspapers  are  full  of  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit — that  is,  of  protoplasm  and  clothes. 

And  as  for  our  creed-Christianity  and  Sunday  religion,  is  a 
man  religious  because  he  believes,  or  professes  to  believe,  in  a 
so-called  orthodox  creed?  or  does  a  man  keep  the  Sabbath,  in 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  11 

any  worthy  sense,  because  he  goes  to  church  on  Sunday  and 
either  preaches  lies  from  a  pulpit  or  listens  to  lies  from  the 
pews?  But  even  this  is  a  better  interpretation  of  the  business 
than  our  kindly  Mr.  Longfellow  fastened  on  the  pulpits  of 
early  American  Unitarianism  with  its  parsons  *'  leering  at  their 
neighbors'  wives."  I  believe  in  religion  and  science,  not  like 
M.  J.  Savage,  but  in  a  deeper  way,  and  most  of  these  questions 
were  settled  by  n^e  on  my  own  account,  through  agony  and 
bloody  sweat,  twenty  odd  years  ago,  when,  for  the  truth's 
sake,  I  gave  up  my  bread  and  butter  with  my  orthodox  pulpit, 
and  not  because  any  man  or  woman  asked  or  dared  to  ask 
such  sacrifice  of  me.  To  me  it.  is  an  old,  old  story,  but  I  find 
that  young  men  and  so-called  wise  men  are  still  sharpening 
these  old  saws. 

In  all  the  records  of  science  there  is  not,  to  this  hour,  one 
clear  fact  which  proves  beyond  reasonable  doubt  that  this 
world,  in  its  present  shape,  is  over  six  thousand  years  old; 
much  less  is  there  any  clear  fact  that  proves  the  human  race 
to  be  older  than  this.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  man  is  oIder» 
and  that  the  world  in  its  present  shape  may  be  six  million 
years  old.  I  could  not  love  or  venerate  the  human  race  or  the 
earth  more  than  1  do  if  I  believed  each  to  be  a  baby  of  three 
months  or  a  relic  of  ten  millions  of  ages.  1  am  not  objecting, 
either,  to  the  isms  of  orthodoxy  or  the  doctrines  of  modern 
science,  but  to  the  unwarrantable  and  stubborn  conceit  of  both 
parties  for  insisting  that  I  must  believe  either  of  their  theories 
or  be  considered  a  heretic  or  a  fool. 

No  man  knows  the  age  of  the  world  or  of  our  grandfathers. 
A  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  before  entering  the  orthodox  min- 
istry, I  had  studied  Hugh  Miller,  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  the  Duke 
of  Argyle  and  Professor  Hitchcock,  hence  know  or  used  to 
know  all  about  the  different  formations  and  strata  of  the  so- 
called  crust  of  our  globe  and  the  different  ages  of  historic  and 
prehistoric  man.  And  if  1  did  not  know  them  and  wanted  to 
parade  the  old  formnlae,  they  are  ready  on  my  desk  in  the  lat- 
est magazine  articles  and  encyclopedias. 

Were  we  present  when  the  old  eternal  glaciers  broke  and 
floated  southward  to  be  melted  in  God's  new  sunlight  and  leave 
our  rich  hills  and  valleys  and  rocks  and  granite  boulders  be- 
hind them?     Were  we  present  when  the  oldest  Elohim  made 


12  THE  GLOBE. 

their  burning  nests  in  the  hearts  of  this  planet  and  shook  its 
mountains  and  rivers  into  fixedness  and  shining  motion?  Let 
a  man  play  with  his  fancy  about  such  old  dreams;  or,  if  he  pre- 
fers it,  let  him  chain  his  fancy  to  the  Bible,  to  the  rock  of  ages, 
and  sleep  himself  to  rest  in  this  mad  world,  without  noting  its 
perpetual  jars  and  crimes. 

In  my  own  time,  earthquakes  have  occurred  that  have  very 
much  changed  the  face  of  the  world,  and  that  have  taken  more 
souls  and  bodies  of  men  to  hell,  a  real  hell,  than  all  the  distil- 
leries in  the  State  of  Illinois;  but  no  silly  woman  circulates  a 
pledge,  against  earthquakes,  or  attempts  to  cure  that  appetite 
of  nature  by  high  license  or  high  fences.  Let  every  man  be 
fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind.  Let  bigoted  scientists  and 
bigoted  quacks  go  to  the  rear,  and  leave  this  earth  to  the  en- 
joyment of  railroads  and  millionaires.  They  know  how  to 
water  the  poor  man's  whisky  so  it  won't  hurt  him,  and  call  it 
protection  all  the  while. 

My  friend,  John  Darly,  in  one  of  the  wisest  books  ever  writ- 
ten— a  book  so  wise,  in  fact,  that  I  have  never  found  anyone, 
save  the  proofreader  and  myself,  who  has  had  the  patience  to 
read  it — .solves  the  riddle  of  man  and  the  earth  by  this  pretty 
formula — "That  things  (all  things,  of  course)  are  to  the  senses 
what,  for  the  time,  to  the  senses  they  seem  to  be."  This  seems 
to  be  very  lucid.  Walking  in  the  twilight  or  moonlight,  nay, 
even  in  the  broad  sunlight,  an  old  plucked-up,  recumbent  root 
of  a  tree  will,  to  the  senses,  often  appear  like  a  jackass  or  a 
camel  or  an  elephant.  On  nearer  approach,  and  seen  in  the 
light  of  reason  and  experience — the  only  true  guides  of  the 
senses — our  root  will  appear  for  just  what  it  is.  So  will  every 
human  crank,  in  due  time. 

In  my  youth  I  knew  an  excellent  little  gentleman,  fond  of 
beer  and  fond  of  an  evening  walk,  who,  on  returning  to  his 
home  one  night  afoot,  saw  at  the  end  of  a  shaded  lane  and 
right  across  the  footpath  what  to  his  senses,  for  the  time  and 
in  their  then  sharpened  condition,  seemed  like  a  donkey,  brows- 
ing— perhaps  meditating  on  Darwinism,  and  wondering  why  its 
foot  was  not  prehensile — standing  there,  stolid,  in  my  gentle- 
man's way.  At  first  he  spoke  kindly  to  the  brute — said,  "  Move 
away,  bossy!" — a  second  thought  suggesting  to  his  sense?  that 
the  beast  might  be  a  calf  or  a  cow;  but  the  animal  did  not 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  13 

move;  and,  as  man  has  the  right  of  way  in  the  world  before  all 
cattle,  the  gentleman,  grown  rathy,  kicked  and  cursed  the  crea- 
ture before  him,  struck  it  with  clenched  fists,  and  then,  dis- 
covering by  bitter  experience  that  the  wretch  was  a  stone  stile^ 
climed  it  with  lame  feet  and  bleeding  hands,  cursing  his  own 
folly  and  kicking  himself  as  best  he  could. 

John  Darly  never  had  such  an  experience,  or  he  would 
have  known  that  things  are  very  seldom  to  the  senses  what 
for  the  time  being  to  the  senses  they  seem  to  be.  But  perhaps 
he  only  meant  to  say  that  things  seem  what  they  seem.  That 
would  be  profound  philosophy. 

"  Trust  ber  not! 
She's  fooling  thee." 

Into  such  vagaries  have  our  scientifico-philosophical  writers 
fallen  in  these  days.  Men  can  no  longer  dream  like  Plato  and 
Philo  but  they  must  materialize  like  Swedenborg  and  Alcott, 
putting  hats  on  their  angels,  and  red  apples  in  their  mouths. 

Within  a  few  days  of  this  writing,  a  very  learned  gentleman, 
an  cx-Presbyterian  clergyman,  now  a  millionaire  retired  mer- 
chant and  public  lecturer  on  the  sanctities  and  ecstasies  of 
modern,  easy-divorce  methods,  assured  me  in  conversation  that 
he  had  already  formulated  and  had  dictated  to  his  latest  and 
best-looking  private  typewriter  a  premium — possible  of  old 
clothes — to  be  given  to  the  man  or  woman  who  would  furnish 
the  best  essay  in  proof  of  the  assumptive  theorem,  or  altruism, 
as  it  seemed  to  him,  that  the  highest  doctrines  of  morality 
could  be  taught  without  any  connection  with  or  dependence  on 
any  form  or  practice  of  religion 

And  when  I  assured  him  that  he  was  sailing  in  a  split  baloon 
at  the  mercy  of  transient  and  fickle  winds,  regardless  of  history 
and  the  eternal  fact  that  all  the  morality  we  knew  or  possessed 
— he  and  myself  and  the  rest  of  mankind — we  had  derived  from 
religious  beliefs  and  practices,  based  on  the  sight  of  our  faith 
in  the  fact  that  history  and  the  world  and  the  universe  seemed 
to  be  run  by  a  moral  order,  rooted  in  the  eternal  wisdom  of 
some  perfect  being  or  Being;  that  this  thing  daily  felt  and  seen 
in  and  by  dogs  and  apes,  rising  higher  in  man,  had  risen  into 
all  the  faiths  and  ethics  of  the  world,  and  that  a  man  could  not 
now,  with  all  this  as  fruit  in  his  own  soul,  act  as  if  he  knew 
nothing  about  it  without  acting  like  a  fool— he  readily  admit- 


14  THE  GLOBE. 

ted  that  he  too  was  "a  theist,  a  very  earnest  theist"  believing, 
like  Comtc,  of  course,  especially  in  the  Divinity  of  Woman — 

"Dear,  deluding  woman." 

But  this  man  is  fat  and  rich,  has  his  second  and  third  wife 
— all  living,  but  divorced,  of  course — and  he  goes  to  the  riding 
school  at  the  age  of  sixty  years,  and  enjoys  life,  ethics  and  re- 
ligion included,  of  course;  to  such  vagaries  has  scientific  Prot- 
estantism risen  or  fallen — as  you  please. 

A  distant  acquaintance  of  mine,  a  leading  "Liberal"  divine, 
rector  or  pastor  of  a  leading  Liberal  church  in  the  second  city  of 
the  Union,  has,  in  these  very  days  and  years,  the  massive  stone 
pillars  on  the  outside  of  his  church  placarded  with  printed 
signs  to  the  effect  that  no  religious  books  are  admitted  to  the 
school  library.  He  might  have  added  that  no  hint  of  religion 
ever  got  into  his  Sunday  sermons;  but  that  would  have  been  go- 
ing too  far.  What  could  this  man  do?  He  had  no  religion 
himself,  no  eloquence; congregation  had  less,  but  lots  of  money 
and  lots  of  scandals  and  lots  of  empty  pews.  Something  had 
to  be  done,  so  he  fell  on  the  "no-religion"  basis  of  running  a 
church — to  the  devil  and  the  dogs. 

I  tell  this  true  story  because  this  man  and  his  church  are 
typical  of  tens  of  thousands  of  Christian  men  and  Christian 
churches  in  the  world  at  this  hour — all  of  them  without  God 
and  without  hope  in  the  world,  except  to  rent  pews,  raise  the 
preacher's  salary,  and  have  a  good  time.  The  preachers  and 
the  people  are  not  wicked.  They  are  as  good  as  I  am,  perhaps, 
but  they  have  been  .stuffed  with  Calvinized  and  Wesleyized 
Moody-and-Sankey  east  wind  until  many  things  seem  to  their 
senses,  for  the  time,  to  be  what  in  reality  they  are  not;  but  I 
will  trust  the  stupidest  real  priest,  Catholic  or  Protestant,  soon" 
cr — far  sooner — than  I  will  trust  my  very-much-divorced,  rid- 
ing-school, sixty-year-old,  ex-clerical  millionaire.  And  as  for 
Mr.  IngersoU  and  the  ghost-mongers,  may  the  Lord  soon  take 
them  to  His  arms  and — grind  them  to  powder. 

When  I  ask  my  old  friend,  the  Imperial  Geologist,  Dean 
of  the  Universe,  and  heir  to  one  of  the  best  heads  and  hearts 
I  have  ever  known  (not  to  speak  of  his  fortune),  for  one  single 
fact  that  shall  convince  me  of  the  extreme  age  of  the  world, 
he  smiles  at  my  ignorance  and  refers  me  in  a  confident  sort  of 
way  to  the  Neanderthal  skull  and  to  other  recent  excavations. 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  16 

When  I  read  his  books  and  the  latest  articles  on  this  theme,  or 
visit  our  museums,  I  find  pictures  of  relics  or  actual  relics  in 
the  shape  of  arrow-heads  of  flint,  stone  hatchets  and  the  like, 
as  pointing  to  a  primitive,  primal,  missing-link  sort  of  man. 
But  this  is  mere  nonsense.  With  my  own  eyes  on  Western 
American  prairies  I  have  seen 

"The  poor  Indian,  whose  untutored  mind 

Sees  God  in  clouds  and  hears  Him  on  the  wind," 

or  who  used  to  do  so  until  his  senses  were  cursed  by  very  bad 
Christian  whisky — I  have  seen  these  no.ble  red  men  use  tools 
as  primitive  as  stone  hatchets  and  flint  arrow-heads.  Mr.  Du 
Chaillu  will  tell  you  of  primitive  men  in  Africa  who,  in  igno- 
rance, beat  the  missing-link  gentlemen  as  the  skull  of  a  fine 
gorilla  beats  that  of  many  an  African;  still,  with  primeval  man 
before  their  eyes  and  noses,  your  savants  and  scientists  must 
find  him  in  a  peat  bog  or  an  old  filled  slot  of  an  ancient  stone 
quarry,  or  in  the  entomed  nucleus  of  an  old  earthquake,  and 
find  a  clay  pipe,  too,  from  one  to  five  thousand  years  old,  be- 
fore they  will  believe  that  the  human  race  was  anywhere  less 
civilized  than  it  is  in  New  York  or  Boston  in  these  very  hours. 

In  one  sense  I  agree  with  them.  I  think  that  a  primal  sav- 
age scalping  himself  with  a  stone  hatchet,  and  the  son  of  such, 
bearing  offerings  of  love  or  fear  to  his  father's  funeral  pyre,  a 
hero — either  of  them — and  a  saint,  a  gentleman,  a  sage,  com- 
pared with  our  well-dressed  modern  savages  who  profess  to  be- 
lieve that  the  votes  or  writings  of  thieves  and  prostitutes  can 
save  a  nation,  and  that  such  are  the  voice  of  God. 

In  one  sense  we  must  go  back  into  the  tombs  to  find  the 
real  springs  and  roots  and  flowers  of  modern  civilization. 

I  know  several  Christian  millionaires  in  Philadelphia  whose 
heads  are  harder  and  smaller  than  the  Neanderthal  skull. 
They  are  cannibals,  too;  have  grown  fat  and  rich  by  eating  the 
flesh  and  drinking  the  blood  of  the  poor.  These  are  your 
missing  links,  if  science  would  but  apply  to  them  its  micro- 
scope and  scalpel.     But  science  is  afraid;  religion  is  afraid. 

In  happy  contrast  with  much  of  this  vapid  vagary  of  mod- 
ern thought,  here  are  a  few  lines  from  Matthew  Arnold,  broad 
and  profound  enough  to  have  been  written  by  "the  Son  of 
Man  in  his  glory:" 

"The  true  meaning  of  religion  is  not  simply  morality,  but 


18  THE  GLOBE. 

morality  touched  by  emotion.  And  this  new  elevation  and  in- 
spiration of  morality  is  well  marked  by  the  word  righteous- 
ness."    (Not  new,  however,  but  very  old,  still — ). 

"If  some  one  now  asks,  'But  what  is  this  application  of 
emotion  to  morality,  and  by  what  marks  may  we  know  it?'  we 
can  quite  easily  satisfy  him — not,  indeed,  by  any  disquisition 
of  our  own,  but  in  a  much  better  way — by  example."  "  By  the 
dispensation  of  Providence  to  mankind,"  says  Quintilian; 
"  goodness  gives  men  most  pleasure."  That  is  morality.  *'  The 
path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light,  which  shineth  more 
and  more  unto  the  perfect  day."  That  is  morality  touched 
with  emotion,  or  religion.  "Hold  off  from  sensuality,"  says 
Cicero,  "for  if  you  have  given  yourself  up  to  it,  you  will  find 
yourself  unable  to  think  of  anything  else."  That  is  morality. 
"  Blessed  arc  the  pure  in  heart,"  says  Jesus,  "  for  they  shall  sec 
God."  That  is  religion.  "We  all  want  to  live  honestly,  but 
cannot,"  says  the  Greek  maxim-maker.  That  is  morality.  "  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death!"  says  Paul.  That  is  religion.  "Would  thou  wert 
of  as  good  conversation  in  deed  as  in  word!"  is  morality.  "Not 
everyone  that  saith  unto  me  Lord,  Lord!  shall  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  Father, 
which  is  in  Heaven!"  is  religion.  "Live  as  you  were  meant  to 
live!"  is  morality.     "  Lay  hold  on  eternal  life!"  is  religion. 

But  you  cannot  get  modern  philosophers  and  scientists 
sixty-year-old,  rich,  riding-school  ex-preachers,  Platonic  dent- 
ists, water-cure  knaves,  phrenological  clowns,  millionaire  tariff- 
ridden  deacons  who  believe  that  "Jesus  died  and  paid  it  all," 
and  that  now  there  is  nothing  left  for  them  to  do  but  to  lie  and 
make  money — you  cannot  get  such  people  to  read  such  stuff 
or  understand  the  difference  between  morality  and  religion  or 
between  lieing  and  stealing  and  a  vicarious  atonement.  In 
truth,  religion  is  morality  touched  with  a  certain  kind  of  emo- 
tion. 

My  rich  friends  assure  me  that  poverty  blinds  the  human 
vision  and  makes  men  cranks;  that  Jesus  and  Paul  never  built 
a  house  for  themselves,  much  less  a  Grand  Depot  for  shot  rub- 
bish, assignations  or  other  purposes.  I  find,  however,  that 
Jesus  and  Paul  have  built  millions  of  houses  and  thousands  of 
temples,  and  are  at  this  hour  of  more  practical  value  to  civiliza- 


THE   VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  17 

tion  than  all  the  ballot-boxes  and  scientists  in  Christendom 
and  the  world.  And  those  dear  sipping-dove  people  who  im- 
agine that  Mr.  Arnold  was  a  poet,  first  of  all,  and  that  his  rep- 
utation will  stand  or  fall  on  his  poetry,  have  evidently  never 
learned  the  meaning  and  value  of  true  and  exalted  criticism  in 
this  world. 

I  doubt  if  Shakespeare  could  have  written  the  foregoing 
distinctions.  But  Shakespeare  or  Geothe  or  Dante  or  Sopho- 
cles or  Homer  could  have  sung  the  stars  to  sleep  while  Mr. 
Arnold  was  hunting  in  despair  for  a  single  poetic  impulse  or 
inspiration.  In  truth,  modern  criticism  is  as  full  of  childish 
vagaries  as  are  modern  science  and  philosophy  and  religion; 
for  instance,  the  recent  foolery  over  the  loafer  jargon  of  the 
late  Walt  Whitman. 

I  gladly  admit  that,  in  what  one  may  call  the  literature  of 
mechanics  and  mechanism,  modern  thought  and  modern  me- 
chanic art  have  risen  to  broad  and  beautiful  discriminations 
and  clearnesses.  I  have  read  scores  of  books  and  articles  on 
modern  machinery,  ancient  and  modern  building  and  architec- 
ture, on  human  and  animal  anatomy  and  functional  specificism, 
which  in  fineness  of  word-data  and  illustrative  detail  are  al- 
most equal  to  the  older  fineness  of  faculty  with  which  the  an- 
cients did  the  things  which  we  moderns  describe;  and  I  never 
weary  in  my  admiration  of  the  intricacies  of  cotton  and  carpet 
looms,  locomotives,  machinists'  and  dentists'  tools.  Man  has 
grown  so  smart  and  keen  and  fine  with  his  calculus  and  steel 
finger-tips  that  I  am  not  suprised  that  Carl  Vogt  and  Descartes 
have  taken  him  and  the  human  race  for  a  simple  machine  run 
from  protoplasm  by  the  "hangman's  whip"  to  such  heights  as 
our  Shakespeares  and  Goethes  and  Hugos  have  attained. 

Modern  men  are  so  cunning  and  acute  in  inventing  and  us- 
ing tools  to  pick  the  golden  chestnuts  out  of  their  neighbors' 
pockets,  I  am  not  surprised  that  Huxley,  Wallace,  Darwin  and 
Co.  have  taken  them  for  first  consins  to  the  apes,  having  abet- 
ter hand,  but  a  poorer  foot,  all  things  considered. 

But  there  is  an  element  in  the  simplest  atom,  in  the  faint- 
est speck  or  drop  of  plasma,  in  the  finest  hair-tip  of  an  ape's 
tail,  as  in  Robert  Ingersoll's  majestic  brain,  that  no  machinery 
or  law  of  machinery  or  science  or  scientist  has  yet  explained. 

It  is  not  science  or  modern  thought,  religion  or  mechanics 


18  THE  GLOBE. 

that  1  am  opposing,  but  the  cursed  conceits  and  vagaries  of 
thcse'new  dreamers  and  dreams;  and  if  on  this  head  you  quote 
me  the  old  proverb,  '•  Physician,  heal  thyself!"  I  reply  very 
frankly  that  long  years  ago  I  wrote  the  prescription  and  com- 
pounded the  medicine  for  all  that — have  been  taking  it  myself 
for  many  years,  and  will  administer  it  to  you  in  due  time;  but, 
here,  I  am  only  pointing  out  where  the  average  modern  shoe 
pinches,  and  how  your  piles  of  carrion  are  not  rose-beds,  and 
that  your  science  is  by  no  means  the  new  word  of  God  you 
take  it  to  be. 

In  truth,  to  talk  of  your  real  new  ethics  of  God's  word  is 
like  playing  with  leeches  or  chewing  poison  vines.  It  takes 
quite  a  pull,  sometimes,  through  fearful  neighborhoods,  to 
reach  any  fine  point  of  elevation  and  extended  outlook.  Moun- 
taineers understand  this.  And  all  real  educators  or  reformers 
kivow  how  slow  and  tedious  is  the  work  of  making  saints  and 
philosophers  out  of  Adamite  or  Darwinian  men.  Mere  stable- 
men, horse-car  drivers,  grip-men,  conductors,  clerks,  reporters, 
newspaper  editors  and  dry  goods  millionaires,  all  attain  to 
sainthood  and  wisdom  as  easily  as  they  make  money.  There 
is  another  kind  and  another  way. 

It  is  not  poverty,  but  the  coarse  horse-play  moral  and  in- 
tellectual ignorance  of  the  ninteeth  century  that  will  bury  its 
holiest  and  sublimest  sunsets  in  smoke  and  blood. 

Mayor  Hewitt,  of  New  York  City,  not  long  since  pointed 
out  the  marvelous  salvations  wrought  by  science  in  the  last 
thirty  years.  To  my  certain  knowledge  the  water  and  milk  we 
drink,  the  bread  and  meat  we  eat,  and  the  clothes  we  wear,  in 
New  York,  Boston  or  Philadelphia,  are  all  coarser  and  poorer 
and  dearer  than  they  were  on  an  average  in  any  English  or 
American  village  thirty  years  ago.  New  York  and  London 
and  Paris,  the  supreme  centers  of  scientific  and  practical  wealth 
and  culture,  have  grown  in  vice  and  corruption  and  disease 
more  in  the  last  thirty  years  than  ever  before  in  a  century,  and 
arc,  with  Berlin,  St.  Petersburg  and  Vienna,  rapidly  becoming 
the  pest-centers  that  will  swamp  this  earth  in  war  and  slime. 
Recent  statistics  prove  this,  if  you  need  proof  beyond  my 
word. 

The  locomotive  and  telegraph  and  telephone  have  not  ad- 
ded one  finer  moral  or  intellectual  breath  to  the  culture  of  the 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  19 

human  race.  A  hundred  years  hence,  as  now  already  to  my 
vision,  a  Krupp  gun  of  the  hugest  dimensions  will  appear  as 
only  an  uglier  relic  of  barbarism  than  an  Indian  stone  hatchet, 
barbed  arrow  or  scalping-knife. 

To  my  sight  Herbert  Spencer's  volumes  of  Biology  and  So- 
ciology contain  more  trash  than  the  works  of  Dickens  or  Plato. 
True  criticism  simply  waits  for  a  new  psychology,  as  De 
Quincey  put  it  long  ago.  I  have  supplied  this  in  Cosmothe- 
ism. 

To  this  hour  no  scientist  can  explain  a  hail-stone,  where  or 
how  it  is  formed,  or  an  earthquake,  by  what  force  it  comes  or 
goes.  Science  knows  all  about  the  sun  and  moon,  but  no  man 
has  been  farther  down  this  little  planet  than  a  coal-mine  to  tell 
us  whether  it  is  heaven  or  hell  below.  Science  does  not  know 
whether  the  nebular  theory  as  to  the  origin  of  our  world  or 
other  worlds  is  true  or  false.  Like  the  theory  of  evolution  it 
probably  hints  at  a  truth  very  imperfectly  understood. 

Science  does  not  know  whether  the  heart  of  the  earth  is 
cold  or  hot,  and  the  arguments  used  as  to  varying  temperature 
in  different  localities,  at  depths  anywhere  from  three  to  three 
thousand  feet  below  the  earth's  surface,  are,  so  far,  as  contradic- 
tory and  silly  as  the  arguments  ot  women  and  children.  Science 
is  afraid  to  measure  a  dozen  degrees  on  the  40th  parallel  south 
and  compare  the  measurement  with  a  dozen  degrees  on  the 
40th  parallel  north,  lest  its  total  theories  regarding  the  shape  of 
the  earth  should  prove  to  be  lies. 

Science  has  not  one  royal  fact  touching  the  great  antiquity 
of  the  earth;  and  its  arguments,  based  (i)  on  the  comparative 
slowness  of  geological  changes  of  the  earth's  crust  in  the  eras 
known  to  man,  (2)  on  the  supposed  rate  of  cooling  of  the 
earth's  crust,  (3)  on  the  estimates  of  tidal  retardation,  (4)  ais 
to  the  eras  and  powers  of  the  sun's  heat  and  the  relation  of 
this  heat  to  the  earth,  are  all  as  light  as  air  and  utterly  un- 
trustworthy. 

Before  our  very  eyes  at  times  the  softest,  most  beautiful, 
most  complex  and  most  vital  of  living  things  in  all  nature  arc 
turned  into  coldest  and  hardest  rock  flint,  a  petrified  crystal,  a 
mineral  which  modern  science,  in  its  supreme  conceit,  may 
properly  enough  define  as  "  an  inorganic  body  distinguished 
by  a  more  or  less  definite  chemical  composition."     A  few  mo- 


90  THE  GLOBE. 

ments  ago  it  was  a  living,  breathing  man;  a  radiant,  sun-cloth- 
ed, loving  woman — an  angel,  a  god.  Perhaps  it  is  still  a  min- 
eral god. 

Give  me  power  to  control  and  use  half  the  forces  I  have  ob- 
served as  everlastingly  active  in  my  own  lifetime,  and  I  will 
make  a  world  or  a  solar  system  for  you  in  six  literal  days. 

The  God  I  worship  could  make  it  in  six  hours.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  the  world  was  in  making,  but  only  that  the  as- 
sertions and  arguments  of  geology  are  mostly  verbiage,  moon- 
shine and  lighter  than  the  old  arguments  for  the  immortality 
of  the  human  soul. 

1  too  can  remember  when  an  old  leaf  or  bone  in  a  rock 
whispered  its  eternities  to  my  willing  mind.  I  know  now  that 
the  thing  might  have  been  done  in  a  night,  while  Mr.  Spencer 
or  Julius  C.xsar  or  our  father  Noah  was  sleeping  off  the  effects 
of  his  wine. 

There  is  no  inertia;  everything  in  the  universe  is  in  motion. 
There  is  no  vacuum;  every  inch  of  infinite  space  is  filled.  Your 
scientific  air-pumps  only  empty  your  scientists'  brains.  The 
fact  that  when  small  bodies — say  pebbles  or  potatoes — are 
thrown  into  the  air,  they  fall  and  are  arrested  by  the  floor  or 
the  earth,  is  not  explained  by  the  law  of  gravitation  or  by  the 
earth's  attraction,  but  by  the  relative  composition,  weight  and 
density  of  the  objects  and  the  unknown  forces  and  laws  of  mo- 
tion. Millions  of  lighter  and  many  larger  and  heavier  bodies 
than  potatoes  float  and  will  float  in  the  earth's  atmosphere- 
There  is  no  uniformity  of  air  pressure  per  square  inch  or  square 
mile  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth.  The  pressure  differs  as 
the  weight  differs,  and  the  weight  differs  as  per  moisture,  den- 
sity, cleanness,  dirtiness  and  the  relative  presence  or  absence 
of  certain  so-called  gases,  and  again  by  the  relative  motion  of 
particles  in  the  air  at  any  given  moment  or  hour.  When  you 
fire  the  boiler  of  a  locomotive,  heat  water,  create  motion  and 
steam,  move  wheels,  belts,  create  friction,  evolve  electricity, 
store  it,  sell  it,  make  money,  you  have  created  nothing,  dis- 
covered nothing,  but  simply  used,  in  a  base,  irreverent  mood, 
the  old  stored  intelligence  and  latent  heat  and  force  of  nature. 
You  are  thieves  unless  you  pay  the  eternal  intelligence  for  all 
this  with  tithes  and  gratitude  and  love.  Moody-and-Sankey 
froth  and  tariff-taxes  and  ballet-boxes  and  bribes  will  not  take 
the  place  of  reverence,  truth  and  justice  in  this  world. 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT.  31 

The  latest  text-books  on  physical  geography,  geology, 
chemistry  and  physiology,  used  in  your  scientific  modern 
schools  and  colleges,  public  and  private,  are  sapless,  godless, 
lifeless  lies,  unworthy  the  respect  of  human  reason,  and  are 
making  mere  parrots  and  beavers  of  the  human  race.  You 
cannot  understand  the  phenomena  of  an  atom  or  a  dead  leaf, 
much  less  of  a  shining  flower  or  star,  or  the  burning,  wasting, 
dying  heart  of  man,  without  all  the  while  seeing,  loving,  ad- 
mitting, revering,  worshiping  the  Eternal  Life  which  by  its 
relative  presence  or  absence  sustains  and  governs  all  these 
things.  It  was  wise  in  the  ancients  to  teach  children  handi- 
craft, filial  obedience,  reverence  for  superiors — the  greater  and 
purer  the  more  reverence  due.  That  education  produced  the 
best  power  of  modern  civilization.  Modern  education  laughs 
at  the  old  pedantry  and  thinks  that  gas  and  machinery  will  take 
the  place  of  it  all.  These  things  should  ye  have  done  and  not 
have  left  the  others  undone.  I  am  an  infidel  and  an  atheist, 
alike  from  your  scientific  and  ultra-Christian  standpoint,  and  I 
am  not  looking  for  an  eternal  heaven  of  Sunday  enjoyment; 
but  I  live  for  truth  and  virtue  and  God  and  the  future,  while 
Christians  all  around  nie  are  feeding  on  and  living  for  lies,  ap- 
petite, gold  and  present  enjoyment,  regardless  of  truth  and  re- 
gardless of  God.     Which  is  atheism? 

After  all  our  spectroscopes  and  instantaneous  photography, 
science  is  still  color-blind,  and  cannot  explain  the  heart  or 
color  of  a  rose,  the  prick  of  a  thorn.  And  as  for  moral  truth 
and  salvation,  the  very  gods  seem  to  be  blinding  men's  eyes 
toward  all  that,  until  some  new  saviour,  with  his  new  word, 
shall  burn  through  the  blindness  and  die  once  more  that  men 
may  live  and  see.  Perhaps  that  saviour  has  come,  has  uttered 
his  word  of  saving  truth,  and  is  dying  for  you  even  now. 

The  latest  vagary  of  modern  thought  is  The  New  lVor/d,a.  new 
"quarterly  review  of  religion,  ethics  and  theology,"  edited  and 
to  be  run  by  a  lot  of  esoteric,  New  England  and  Old  England 
hack  professors  and  a  hack  literary  editor  of  Boston — all  ex- 
cellent gentlemen  for  the  sort  of  work  they  have  so  far  been 
addicted  to;  but  as  to  whether  they  can  run  a  decent  or  a  suc- 
cessful quarterly  review  for  two  or  five  years  remains  to  be 
seen. 

The  first  number  was  much  heralded  in  advance.     Dr.  Ab- 


n  THE  GLOBE. 

bott,  Bcecher's  successor,  and  a  recent  lecturer  before  the  Low- 
ell lustitute  on  "The  Evolution  of  Christianity,"  is  the  leading 
spirit  of  the  review;  and  evolution,  as  applied  to  "religion, 
ethics  and  theology,"  and  so  far  as  the  chained  intellects  of 
these  professors  can  see  that,  is  to  be  the  leading  plank  in  The 
New  World  platform. 

These  men  are,  everyone  of  them,  just  where  the  editor  of 
The  Globe  was  twenty  odd  years  ago.  By-and-by  they  will 
understand  that  their  ideas  of  evolution  do  not  explain  the 
Apostle  Paul  or  Jesus  Christ,  or  a  single  Sabbath  sunrise,  or 
the  power  of  these  on  a  darkened  world — do  not  even  explain 
the  darkened  world.  And  twenty  years  hence  everyone  of 
these  gentlemen  will  have  come  to  Cosmotheism  or  Catholicism 
in  pure  and  simple  repentance  and  absolute  obedience  to  Christ 
in  one  or  the  other  of  these  systems,  or  they  will  have  gone 
over  to  Frothinghamism,  IngersoUism  and  the  godless  devil  of 
modern  mammonism,  who,  I  fear,  is  largely  their  master  at 
the  present  hour.  ,  W.  H.  Thorne. 


LIFE. 


O  Life,  thou  waitest  not  upoD  our  moods, 

But  ever  rolling  onward,  like  the  sea, 

Thy  subtle,  sentient  waves  of  destiny. 

As  sunbeams,  playing  in  the  summer  woods, 

Do  touch,  and  lift  to  light,  or  leave  behind, 

Our  wayward  thoughts,  our  little  dreams  of  ease, 

Our  countless  fancies,  that  would  pose  and  please. 

And  so  hast  flitted,  time,  aye,  out  of  mind; 

Yet,  if  we  see  thy  face,  and  grasp  thy  hand, 

And  vi«w  with  reverence  thy  benignant  eyes, 

Nor  night  nor  death  between  our  hearts  shall  stand, 

Or  shut  the  glory  of  thy  radiant  skies 

From  our  illumined  minds  ;  so  ever  bind 

About  our  lives  the  life  that  never  dies. 

W.  H.  Thorns. 


COSMOTHEISM  VERSUS  CATHOLICISM. 


When  I  delivered  my  lectures  on  the  Science  of  Religion, 
in  1877,  and  when  I  wrote  the  chapters  on  "Cosmotheism." 
which  constitute  Number  8  of  The  Globe,  my  views  and  feel- 
ings were  less  in  sympathy  and  harmony  with  orthodox  Christ- 
ianity than  they  have  been  during  the  last  three  years.  Var- 
ious misfortunes  and  afflictions  that  came  into  my  life  in  the 
years  1888-89  ^^^  "^^  ^o  re-examine  the  fundamental  claims  of 
Christianity  in  a  spirit  unbiased  by  the  studies  that  led  me  out 
of  the  ministry  twenty  years  earlier.  The  Globe  itself,  found- 
ed October,  1889,  was  largely  the  result  of  a  final  conviction 
that  it  was  my  duty,  in  some  sense,  to  re-enter  the  Christian 
ministry,  and  preach,  as  I  had  never  preached,  in  The  Globe 
and  elsewhere,  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  It  was  my 
simple  purpose  to  apply  the  ideal  standard  of  Christian  culture 
as  expounded  in  the  New  Testament,  to  our  so-called  modern 
culture,  in  all  lines;  primarily  to  modern  literature  and  modern 
politics,  which,  as  was  clear  to  all  men,  had  fallen  largely  into 
the  hands  of  the  devil  and  his  angels. 

How  far  I  have  succeeded  in  doing  this,  or  even  in  breaking 
ground  in  this  direction,  God  in  heaven  only  knows.  But  time 
will  show  that  there  are  not  wanting  evidences  that  something 
has  been  accomplished  toward  the  end  in  view,  and  all  stud- 
ious readers  of  The  Globe — newspaper  critics  and  others — 
have  seen  and  admitted  this  from  the  first;  to  use  the  language 
of  the  North  Dakota  Churchman,  The  Globe  has  been,  in  all 
fundamental  essentials,  "indubitably  Christian."  It  is  my  be- 
lief that,  when  Cosmotheism  is  fully  understood,  all  true  men 
and  women  will  see  that  it,  too,  is  profoundly  and  gladly  Christ- 
ian. Nevertheless,  it  is  not  orthodox  in  any  true,  historic 
sense.  No  man  is  more  clearly  conscious  of  that  than  I  am, 
and  I  am  writing  this  review  to  show  wherein  and  why  it  is 
unorthodox,  and,  finally,  to  test  my  own  mind  and  the  reader's 
as  to  what  the  future  of  our  belief  shall  be.     Here,  the  qucs- 


M  THE  GLOBE. 

tion  naturally  suggests  itself:  Can  a  man  or  a  book  be  Christ- 
ian that  is  not  strictly  orthodox? 

In  general,  I  agree  with  a  recent  writer  in  the  Standard  of 
the  Cross,  when  he  said,  '*  but  Unitarianism  is  not  Christianity," 
and.  of  course,  the  remark  applies  equally  to  all  forms  of  un- 
orthodox, so-called  "Liberalism."  Nevertheless,  from  Arius  to 
Emerson,  some  of  the  purest  Christian  saints  have  been  Pan- 
theists, Unitarians,  and  only  half  believers  in  our  total  orthodox 
creeds. 

In  my  own  experience  of  over  thirty  years,  since  arriving  at 
the  age  of  manhood,  the  most  saintly  persons  I  have  known 
have  been,  in  some  sense,  unorthodox.  Lucretia  Mott,  the  fa- 
mous anti-slavery  Quaker  preacher  and  reformer,  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  universally  acknowledged  to  have  been  one  of  the 
purest,  sweetest  and  saintliest  saints  that  ever  breathed,  was  a 
Hicksite — that  is,  a  Unitarian  Christian  heretic.  The  Rev.  W. 
H.  Furness,  D.  D.,  also  of  Philadelphia,  a  Unitarian  minister, 
and  for  many  years,  in  many  ways,  a  co-laborer  with  the  divine 
Lucretia,  was,  and  still  lives  at  this  writing,  one  of  the  truest 
Christians  I  have  ever  known.  An  elder  in  the  orthodox 
church  in  Philadelphia,  where  I  first  made  profession  of  Christ- 
ianity, and  one  of  the  most  saintly  men  I  have  ever  met,  was  a 
believer  in  the  annihilation  of  the  "wicked,"  also  a  believer  in 
the  personal,  second  coming  of  Christ — so  unorthodox.  One 
of  the  purest  saints  in  Philadelphia  at  this  hour  is  a  Hicksite 
Quaker  Preacher.  Matthew  Arnold  was  not  orthodox,  but 
who  ever  doubted  his  Christianity?  Bishop  Brooks  is  not 
orthodox,  but  where  will  you  find  a  nobler  Christian?  Dr.  Pea- 
body  and  Prof.  J.  H.  Allen,  of  Boston  and  Cambridge,  are  Uni- 
tarians; but  in  what  orthodox  communion  will  you  find  truer 
specimens  of  pure  Christianity? 

I  do  not  wish  or  intend  to  hide  behind  any  of  these  men, 
and  so  excuse  any  phase  of  my  own  doubt  or  unbelief.  I  am 
sure,  with  Tennyson,  that 

"  There  is  more  faith  in  honest  doubt, 
Believe  me,  than  in  half  your  creeds;" 

yet  my  respect  for  orthodoxy  is  such,  my  familiarity  with 
scores  and  hundreds  of  saintly  persons  of  orthodox  faith  so 
vivid,  and  my  growing  belief  in  its  power  so  unutterable,  that 
in  all  honesty  I  am  forced  to  confess  my  conviction  that  had 


COSMOTHEISM  VERSUS  CATHOLICISM.  25 

the  heterodox  men  and  the  one  woman  named  been  born  and 
brought  up  in  the  Catholic  Church — given  the  natures  they  had 
to  start  with—  they  would,  in  each  case,  have  become  more 
saintly  still,  and  have  been  of  infinitely  greater  service  to  their 
fellow-men.  This  is  a  practical  review  of  Cosmotheism  and 
other  rationalistic  tendencies  and  forms  of  belief  as  compared 
with  Christian  Catholicism. 

Of  Cosmotheism  itself  there  is  no  need  that  I  speak  at 
length.  Many  years  ago  I  felt  bound  to  write  it,  and,  having 
promised  to  publish  it  in  The  Globe,  I  felt  bound  to  do  so.  It 
already  seems  to  me  as  something  I  wrote  in  a  pre-existent 
state.  It  no  longer  seems  to  be  a  part  of  my  present  life,  and 
I  am  satisfied  that  it  was  published  just  about  one  hundred 
years  before  its  time. 

It  is  clear,  and  ever  more  clear  to  me,  that  the  balance  of 
the  present  and  the  whole  of  the  next  century  belong  to  Christ 
and  to  his  true  Catholic  Church.  But  if,  after  the  two  thousand 
years  of  Christian  preaching  and  victory,  the  ends  of  that 
preaching  shall  be  attaind,  as  I  believe  they  will  be  then  at- 
tained— and  if  then  the  thousand  years  of  world-wide  peace 
shall  have  come,  when  the  eternal  and  victorious  Son  of  God 
shall  deliver  up  the  world's  spiritual  kingdom  to  God,  even  the 
Father  and  God  shall  be  all  in  all,  consciously  and  lovingly, 
the  wide  world  over — then,  I  say,  Cosmotheism  may  be  accept- 
ed and  understood.  Meanwile,  I  am  gladly  and  perfectly  sure 
that  whatever  is  good  and  true  in  it  will  live  when  the  nations 
existing  to-day  are  dead  and  gone  to  dust  and  finest  air,  and 
that  whatever  is  false  and  evil  in  it  will  itself  have  become 
windblown  into  everlasting  and  proper  oblivion.  But  the 
gentlemen  and  ladies  who  take  Cosmotheism  for  an  ordinary 
word  in  this  world  are  slightly  mistaken,  that  is  all. 

Readers  of  The  Globe  will  be  interested  to  learn  what  cer- 
tain scholarly  readers  have  thought  of  Cosmotheism. 

Hon.  Edward  E.  Cothran,  Esq.,  a  gifted  lawyer  and  a  bril- 
liant writer,  of  San  Jose,  California,  wrote  me  in  substance : 
"  Barring  certain  personal  allusions,  Cosmotheism  is  the  ablest 
statement  of  rational  religious  belief  that  I  have  ever  read.  . 
.  .  But  it  will  be  thousands  of  years  before  even  the  intelli- 
gent portions  of  the  human  race  can  accept  its  teachings." 

I  think  that  it  will  be  just  about  one  hundred  years,  and  for 
reasons  already  given. 


36  THE  GLOBE. 

Professor  J.  H.  Allen,  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  editor  of  the 
Unitarian  Review,  wrote  me  in  substance  :  "Cosmotheism  may 
become  the  religious  doctrine,  but  never  the  religion  of  the 
world."  But  Mr.  Allen,  plainly,  did  not  fully  take  in  the  chap- 
ters on  the  Evolution  of  Character  and  the  Evolution  of  jfesus, 
which  chapters  were  the  practical,  spiritual,  and  in  many  ways 
the  ablest,  subtlest,  most  original  and  far  reaching  work  in  the 
book. 

The  Rev.  M.  J.  Savage,  a  Unitarian  minister  in  Boston,  and 
a  man  of  some  fame  among"  Liberal  Christians,"  wrote  me:  "I 
have  read  your  Globe  of  January  (that  is  Cosmotheism)  with 
great  interest.  .  .  For  nineteen  years  I  have  been  preach- 
ing the  Immanent  God,  salvation  by  character,  under  the  law 
of  cause  and  effect,  and  the  immortal  life;"  and  this  has  a  very 
pretty  Unitarian  sound;  but  Mr.  Savage  does  not  go  on  to  say 
where  and  how  and  of  whom  he  learned  his  lesson  a  little  over 
ninteen  years  ago;  and  the  poor  man — blind  as  a  bat  in  his 
Unitarian  and  Boston  conceit  and  vanity — does  not  see  that  he 
never  yet  has  learned  the  difference  been  the  Divine  Imman- 
ence as  a  doctrine  or  theory  and  as  a  fact  of  human  conscious- 
ness; that  is,  he  has  never  learned  the  difference  between  the 
Unitarian,  sing-song  rehash  of  the  Divine  Immanence  and  the 
consciousness  of  Jesus  when  he  said,  "I  and  the  Father  are 
one." 

Cosmotheism  preaches  the  Divine  Immanence  out  of  the 
undying  God-consciousness  of  its  author,  and  the  salvation  by 
character  that  it  preaches  is  alone  the  salvation  by  the  charac- 
ter of  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth — the  Eternal  Son 
of  God — whereas  the  salvation  by  character,  preached  by  Mr. 
Savage,  is  salvation  by  character  as  defined  and  run  after  in  the 
latest  Boston  benevolent  fad  of  the  day.  And  the  two— my 
good  friend,  Mr.  Savage,  and  my  good  friends  of  The  Globe 
— are  as  unlike  as  Jesus  was  and  will  forever  in  all  history  re- 
main unlike  the  benevolent  and  rascally  Judas  that  betrayed 
Him. 

Unitarianism  will  not  do;  so-called  orthodox  Congregation- 
alism will  not  do;  no  form  of  New  England  ecclesiasticism,  as 
tested  by  the  laws  of  God  and  of  human  history,  will  ever  do; 
Presbyterianism,  with  or  without  infant  damnation  in  its  mori- 
bund creed,  will  not  do;  High  or  Low  Church  Protestant  Epis- 


COSMOTHEISM  VERSUS  CATHOLICISM.  27 

copacy,  forever  running  into  high-stilted  and  low-grade  Amer- 
ican Churchism,  and  with  an  everlasting  tendency  to  Broad- 
Churchism  and  unbelief,  will  not  do;  and  it  is  needless  to  speak 
of  the  mere  gross  physicism  of  Methodism,  the  crass,  untaught 
coarseness  of  the  Baptists,  the  little  provincialism  of  Quaker- 
ism, or  the  silly,  aerated  tweedledum  and  tweedledee  of  Swedcn- 
borgianism.  All  these  tend  to  heterodoxy,  as  an  unfortunate 
woman  tends  to  hell. 

As  I  have  said  in  previous  numbers  of  The  Globe,  the  fu- 
ture belongs  to  Cosmotheism  or  to  Catholicism,  perhaps  to  a 
mixture  of  the  two  in  some  higher  divine  consciousness  in  the 
life  and  death  and  martyrdom  of  some  new  Son  of  God  and 
Man. 

Having  quoted  so  much  in  some  sense  favorable  to  Cos- 
motheism, I  will  now  refer  to  certain  arguments  which  seem  to 
favor  the  fundamental,  orthodox  and  Catholic  conceptions  of 
of  God  and  the  Universe,  as  opposed  to  the  fundamental  ideas 
of  Cosmotheism. 

First. — The  Scriptural  argument.  The  strongest  words  in 
the  Old  Testament  bearing  on  this  point  are  (Gen,  i  :  i):  "In 
the  beginning,  God  (or,  as  Cosmotheism  reads  it,  the  gods) 
created  the  heavens  and  the  earth  "  Orthodox  Catholicism,  of 
course,  reads  the  term  "created"  here  as  the  obsolute  making 
of  something  out  of  nothing.  Thus  the  Vatican  Council,  follow- 
ing the  Fourth  Lateran  Council,  says  :  "  This  one  God,  of  His 
own  goodness  and  Almighty  power,  ...  at  the  very  be- 
ginning of  time,  made  out  of  nothing  both  kinds  of  creatures, 
spiritual  and  corporal"  (Sess.  HI,  C.  i).  And  again:  "If  any- 
one doth  not  confess  that  the  world  and  all  things  contained 
therein,  both  spiritual  and  material,  have  been,  as  to  their  whole 
substance,  produced  <?«/^///<7//fm^  by  God,  let  him  be  anathema." 
(Can.  5). 

The  strongest  words  in  the  New  Testament  favormg  the 
Catholic  view  are  (Rom.  ii  :  36),  "  Of  Him,  and  by  Him,  and 
in  Him,  are  all  things."  Again,  the  words,  in  Eph.  4  :  6,  "There 
is  one  God  and  Father  of  all,  who  is  above  all,  and  in  all,"  arc 
relied  upon  by  Catholic  orthodoxy  as  teaching  in  plain  Eng- 
lish that  there  was  a  time  when  Almighty  God,  who  is  simple 
Being,  without  essence  or  body,  and  different  from  all  other 
being  or  beings,  existed  alone  in  an  infinity  and  ah  eternity 


28  THE  GLOBE. 

that  were  blank,  save  only  the  invisible  existence  of  this  Al- 
mighty and  Eternal,  uncreated  God— the  absolute  Maker  and 
Master  of  all  created  beings  and  things. 

I  need  not  say  that  these  beautiful  and  rootal  passages  can 
be  read  as  reverently  and  intelligently  in  harmony  with  Cos- 
motheism  as  they  can  be  read  in  harmony  with  orthodox 
Catholicism;  and,  in  fact,  I  am  here  inclined  to  sink  my  own 
sight  and  reason  and  to  emphasize  the  possible  and  probable 
wisdom  of  the  concensus  of  the  consecrated  masters  and  teach- 
ers of  the  Church  of  Rome. 

The  main  force  of  the  Scriptural  argument  is  based  upon 
the  idea  that  the  Scriptures  are  heaven-irspired,  and  the  main 
force  favoring  the  special  wisdom  of  the  Catholic  interpretation 
is  in  the  belief  that  the  Catholic  Church  is  the  inspired  vehicle 
of  the  interpretation  of  God  and  Christ  and  the  Scriptures  to  a 
lost  and  darkened  world.  But  the  Scriptures  themselves,  as 
the  selected  best  words  of  the  race — as  the  survival  of  the  fit- 
test, after  many  a  bloody  battle — have  a  value  apart  from  all 
our  notions  of  supernatural  inspiration;  and  the  interpretations 
of  the  Catholic  Church,  altogether  apart  from  one's  belief  or 
no  belief  in  their  supernatural  and  infallible  relation  to  God  in 
Christ  Jesus,  have  a  value  as  the  utterances  of  men  trained  and 
consecrated  for  and  to  the  study  and  interpretation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures,and  especially  as  these  interpretations  are  the  declarations 
of,the  picked  or  chosen  and  ablest  men  of  the  great  Catholic 
organization. 

And  it  is  for  all  these  reasons  that  I  am  inclined,  more  and 
more  each  year,  to  question  and  doubt,  if  not  to  deny,  my  own 
rational  sight  in  favor  of  the  sight  of  the  united,  picked  and 
strongest  servants  of  the  Church,  as  this  sight  has  been  over 
and  over  again  recorded  during  the  past  eighteen  hundred 
years. 

Second. — The  argument  from  the  philosophers.  The  Apostle 
Paul  spoke  as  a  philosopher  when  (Rom.  i  :  20)  he  said:  "The 
invisible  things  of  Him  from  the  creation  of  the  world  are 
clearly  seen.  .  .  .  His  eternal  power  and  Godhead."  This 
seems  to  imply  a  God  separate  from  and  above  nature,  exist- 
ent prior  to  nature,  and  nature's  true  Creator.  But,  of  course, 
the  passage  can  be  read  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  primal 
idea  of  Cosmotheism,  that  is,  of  the  unity  and  eternity  of  God 


COSMOTIIEISM  VERSUS  CATHOLICISM.  2» 

and  nature  in  one,  everlasting,  evolving  harmony.  liut  I  will 
keep  to  the  advocacy  of  the  orthodox  idea. 

Back  of  and  above  all  mere  idol-worship,  and  the  mytholo- 
gies out  of  which  this  idol-worship  sprang,  in  all  times  and  na- 
tions, the  philosophic  minds  of  all  races  of  men,  from  the  earl- 
iest times,  have  found  through  nature  a  "Great  Spirit,"  as  of 
the  American  Indian's  highest  worship.  A  "  Great  Spirit,"  the 
Creator  of  all  things  "  visible  and  invisible,"  as  our  own  Prayer 
Books  have  it — a  Great  Spirit,  at  once  the  unseen  chief  of  all 
human  tribes.  Master  and  Maker,  not  only  of  the  world,  but  of 
the  happy  hunting-grounds  beyond  the  stars. 

More  than  five  thousand  years  ago  the  philosophers  of 
Egypt  had  found  this  same  supreme,,  uncreated  Creator  of  all 
things;  and  in  their  quieter  meditative  worship  they  rose  above 
the  worship  of  the  ancestor,  above  the  worship  of  all  the  minor 
deities  of  their  own  mythologies,  and  with  a  reverence  that 
would  now  fall  like  the  dew  of  heaven  upon  a  modern  Boston 
man — were  he  capable  of  feeling  it — ^those  old  Egyptian  phil- 
osophers revered  the  unknown  eternal  God;  and  it  was  always 
a  God  existing  independent  of  nature,  before  nature  and  super- 
ior to  its  laws,  as  far  as  they  had  then  defvned  any  of  these 
notions. 

The  same  was  true  of  the  philosophic  minds  of  all  the  Greek 
nations.  Beyond  and  above  their  ecclesiastical,  many-faced 
deities,  there  dwelt  in  the  dream-lands  and  spaces  of  their 
faith  or  fancy,  the  one  supreme  and  uncreated  spiritual  Deity, 
the  antitype  and  comprehensible  Being,  of  which  or  of  whom 
Zeus  and  all  their  lesser  gods  were  but  faint  and  sensual  inti- 
mations. Socrates  was  not  alone  in  questioning  the  validity 
of  the  worship  paid  to  or  through  the  many-formed  ceremon- 
ies of  the  popular  Greek  mythology.  To  the  philosophic  minds 
of  Greece,  the  god  that  the  carved  and  graven  Zeus  stood  for 
was  the  uncreated,  all-seeing,  all-controlling,  all-father;  not 
only  a  god  of  Almighty  power,  but  a  god  with  the  tender,  pa- 
rental side,  which  later  shown  forth  in  ineffable  immortal 
splendor  in  the  consciousness  and  life  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ 
the  supreme  Son  of  the  living  God.  So  to  the  philosophic 
Roman,  the  seen  Jupiter  was  but  a  faint  image  of  the  unseen 
Deity  that  the  foreseen  and  worshiped  god  stood  for. 

Among  the  ancient  Persians  and  Hindoos,  in  fact  through- 


M  THE  GLOBE. 

out  the  Assyrian  and  Asiatic  races,  the  philosophic  Trinitarian- 
ism  of  Brahminism  was  hardly  less  complete  and  scholarly  two 
thousand  years  ago  than  is  the  orthodox  Catholic  theology  of 
our  own  Christian  times.  And  the  supreme,  divine  soul  of 
Hrahminism  was  the  omniscent,  all-powerful,  all-creative,  un- 
created, subtle  master-being  of  the  universe;  much  as  the  Je- 
hovah of  the  Hebrew  has  grown  to  be  in  the  orthodox  theologfy 
of  our  times.  Gautama  simply  dropped  the  being  and  dwelt 
in  the  essence.  And  in  all  these  philosophic  conceptions  of 
the  uncreated,  supreme  Deity  of  the  universe,  there  was,  in  the 
main,  the  feeling  that  this  supreme  God  was  superior  to  and 
above  nature — the  Creator,  in  some  sense,  of  all  created  things 
and  beings. 

I  have  dwelt  upon  these  thoughts  in  order  to  put  in  its  most 
favorable  light  our  modern  orthodox  conception  of  the  one 
Almighty,  Omniscient  God — the  Creator  out  of  nothing  of  all 
things  visible  and  invisible — knowing  all  the  while  that  they 
seem  to  militate  against  the  primal  ideas  of  my  own  Cosmothe- 
ism 

Finally,  on  this  head,  Herbert  Spencer  is  the  typical  mod- 
ern philosopher.  He  clung  to  the  dust  of  the  earth  and  his 
own  verbosity,  or  to  the  laws  of  this  dust,  as  long  as  he  could; 
but  finally,  through  some  unacknowledged  inspiration,  he,  like 
Darwin  in  his  later  years,  came  to  recognize  and  admit  that 
back  of  and  above  all  phenomena,  and  all  that  assinine  physi- 
cal science  could  say  about  the  concern,  there  was  and  forever 
had  been  and  forever  would  be  an  ^'infinite  and  eternal  energy, 
from  which  all  ihi?igs  proceed^  I  have  left  this  infidel  testimony 
till  the  last,  because  it  is  the  strongest,  apparently,  in  confirma- 
tion of  the  orthodox  Christian  idea  as  opposed  to  my  own  Cos- 
motheistic  idea.  In  truth,  Herbert  Spencer's  words — born  evi- 
dently out  of  a  weary  nausea  of  his  own  cheap  and  endless 
clap-trap  of  philosophy — are  so  nearly  like  the  beautiful  and 
Catholic  words  of  the  Apostle  Paul  that  they  seem  to  seal  as 
true  the  orthodox  Catholic  doctrine. 

Of  course  I  can  read  the  words  of  Paul,  in  Romans,  and  the 
words  of  Herbert  Spencer  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  primal 
principles  and  ideas  of  Cosmotheism — when  through  every  pos- 
sible phase  of  questioning  on  this  head  before  I  dared  to  write 
or  publish  Cosmotheism — but  in  the  minds  of  the  writers  in 


COSMOTHEISM  VERSUS  CATHOLICISM.  ,       31 

each  case  the  words  seem  to  imply  a  belief  in  an  Almighty 
God,  an  "Eternal  Energy" — which  is  only  another  way  of  put- 
ting it — pre-existent  to  nature,  above  nature;  the  Creator  of 
nature;  and  so  the  testimony  of  ancient  and  modern  rational 
and  mental  philosophy  seems  to  favor  the  orthodox  Catholic 
idea  concerning  God  and  His  relation  to  the  created  universe 
and  to  world-wide  human  and  natural  history. 

Against  all  this  I  simply  put  my  own  sight  of  the  **  unity 
and  eternity  of  the  universe — God  in  it  and  it  in  God,  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  worlds  without  end;"  and  I  am  so 
reverent  of  the  orthodox  Catholic  idea,  so  satisfied  of  the  in- 
spiration of  the  Scriptures,  and  so  convinced  of  the  Divine 
mission  and  ministry  and  wisdom  of  the  Catholic  Church,  that 
I  almost  hope  the  Holy  Spirit  may  lead  me  to  see  and  accept 
its  teaching  in  preference  to  my  own. 

Third. — There  is  still  another  and  a  newer  argument  in  fav- 
or of  orthodox  Catholicism,  here  named,  perhaps,  for  the  first 
time  in  human  literature.  I  shall  call  it  the  scientific  argument. 
The  latest  deductions  of  science — so  called — admit  and  teach 
that  in  all  material  substances  there  is  a  potential  life,  form- 
less as  far  as  known;  this,  by  the  way,  is  a  teaching  of  science 
— new  within  these  last  twenty  years,  Another  step,  and 
science  assures  us  that  any  and  all  material  substances,  reduced 
to  their  last  analysis  by  any  known  and  imagined  process  of  fire 
disintegration  or  pressure,  are  simply  converted  into  points  of 
force.  Therefore  the  universe,  under  sufficient  destructive 
agencies,  might  be  reduced  to  a  simple  point  of  force.  And 
the  presumption  is  that  this  potential  life,  or  this  point  of  force 
— which,  of  course,  to  a  seeing  mind  are  one  and  the  same — is 
scperate  from  or  separable  from  matter;  in  some  sense  super- 
ior to  it;  may  exist  without  it;  and  if  these  so-called  scientific 
deductions  and  assumptions  are  true,  they  would  seem  to  argue 
against  the  essential  and  eternal  unity  of  mind  and  matter,  and 
would  seem  to  be  favorable  to  the  orthodox  idea  of  a  self-ex- 
istent, immortal,  spiritual  God,  superior  to  matter  and  is  true 
Creator. 

Of  course,  I  see  how  all  these  deductions  and  assumptions 
of  science,  so  called,  can  be  interpreted  in  harmony  with  the 
primal  principles  of  Cosmotheism;  in  fact,  I  have  good  reason 
to  believe  that  they  were  stolen  originally  out  of  the  creed  of 


82  THE  GLOBE. 

Cosmotheism;  but  I  am  here  giving  the  orthodox  view  all  the 
advantage  that  it  would  naturally  claim  for  itself. 

To  me,  of  course,  the  point  of  force  to  which  all  matter  may 
be  reduced  and  the  potential  life  which  science  finds  in  all 
matter  are  but  sparks  of  that  eternal,  total  and  absolute  life  of 
Immortal  Wisdom  and  Immortal  Love,  which  I  see  to  be  at  the 
heart  of  all  beings  and  things,  and  which  I  call  God,  in  ever- 
manifold,  quenchless  and  ineffable  evolution,  till  the  Church 
and  the  Kingdom  of  God  are  attained  in  the  flesh  in  all  worlds. 
But,  again,  I  say,  that  my  reverence  for  Catholic  orthodoxy  is 
so  profound,  my  absolute  knowledge  of  its  divine,  infallible  and 
glorious  ministering  to  the  human  soul,  to  all  kinds  and  grades 
of  human  souls,  so  perfect  and  so  convincing,  that  I  almost 
wish  that  I  and  my  children  had  been  born  under  the  influence 
of  its  altars  and  in  the  simple  bondage  of  its  perfect  faith  in 
the  crucified  and  Divine  Saviour. 

I  have  no  quarrel  with  Protestantism.  I  was  born  and 
brought  up  in  the  Church  of  England,  and  I  love  it  to  this  day 
as  reverently  as  its  most  devoted  bishops  can  love  it.  I  was 
led  into  a  profession  of  my  faith  in  Christ  through  the  simple 
services  of  the  First  Independent  (now  the  Chambers)  Presby- 
terian Church,  in  Philadelphia,  and  by  its  aid  studied  for  the 
Presbyterian  ministry.  And  when,  through  pursuing  the  stud- 
ies of  the  critical  literature  of  thirty  years  ago,  I  could  no  long- 
er preach  the  doctrines  of  Calvinism,  and  felt  that  I  must  quit 
its  ministry,  I  received  nothing  but  tenderest  kindness  on  the 
part  of  my  fellow-ministers  and  on  the  part  of  my  own  people. 
But  the  very  fact  that  Protestantism  has  made  bundles  and 
bundles  of  creeds,  to  which  its  ministers  are  constantly  prov- 
ing disloyal,  is  itself  a  confession  and  absolute  proof  of  the 
essential  weakness  of  all  Protestant  churches.  Protestantism 
cannot  hold  its  ministry  loyal  to  Christ  or  even  to  God  Almighty  ^ 
and  for  this  reason,  though  it  has  been  beautiful  in  its  kindness 
to  me,  and  often  beautiful  in  its  ministry  to  me,  I  now  see  that 
it  is  doomed. 

The  revised  Prayer  Book  and  the  revised  Confession  of 
Faith,  and  the  rest,  are  not  as  Christ-like  or  God-like  as  they 
were  before  revision;  and  the  total  revising  is  only  Professor 
Briggs  and  Bishop  Brooks  and  Heber  Newton  and  Bob  Inger- 
soll  Liberalism,  on  to  atheism,  and  goody-goody  old-fashioned 


COSMOTHEISM  VERSUS  CATHOLICISM.  38 

Mr.  Seneca  ten-times-one-is-ten-Yankee,  safe  and  sober  and 
selfish  morality,  so  called. 

And,  again,  I  say  to  all  seekers  after  God  and  true  religion: 
it  must  be  for  you,  and  for  all  men,  either  Cosmotheism  or 
Catholicism  or  atheism,  and  repeated  evolution  into  annihila- 
tion or  everlasting  damnation.  For  the  present,  I  think  it  is 
Christ  and  Catholicism,  and  I  am  more  than  willing  that  it 
should  be  so.     "Choose  you  this  day  whom  jy<?a  will  serve." 

In  this  article  I  have  dnly  touched  upon  the  primal  ideas  of 
Cosmotheism  a.c  compared  with  the  primal  ideas  of  Catholic- 
ism. But  these  first  principles  govern  the  entire  philosophy 
of  the  belief  and  its  application  to  men  and  nations  If  the 
true  God  is  the  soul  of  the  universe,  and  all  beings  and  things 
are,  as  to  their  essential  soul.  His  offspring,  the  philosophy  of 
the  evolution  of  that  soul  in  nature  and  in  human  history,  in 
the  salvation  and  damnation  of  men  particularly,  will  be  wholly 
different  from  what  they  all  are,  or  will  be  in  a  universe,  or  a 
world  made  out  of  nothing  by  the  fiat  of  a  God,  separate  from 
and  above  the  universe,of  different  nature  of  our  own.and  whose 
interest  in  our  lives  is  that  of  an  alien  monarch  ruling  over 
alien  and  rebellious  subjects.  May  the  Holy  Spirit  lead  us  in- 
to all  truth! 

The  possible  weakness  of  Cosmotheism  is  in  its  last  chapter 
— on  the  Mortality  of  Man — where,  instead  of  arguing  from 
the  unity  of  the  universe,  that  man,  being  the  chiefest  incarna- 
tion of  the  Divine  life,  not  only  had  the  immortality  of  the 
common  life,  of  the  grasses  and  the  flowers,  but  a  higher  spir- 
itual immortality,  indestructible  as  God  Himself,  I  argued  from 
the  standpoint  of  physical  science  and  the  human  understand- 
ing the  mortality  of  man;  whereas  it  is  only  the  physical yi?rw 
or  present  embodiment  of  the  Divine  Spirit  in  man  that  is 
mortal,  that  is  changeable;  while  that  spark  which  he  inherits 
from  the  Almighty,  from  the  gods  and  the  ages,  from  the  cul- 
tures, crowns  and  crosses  of  the  past— that  source  of  love  and 
will,  which  wills  to  die  for  truth,  to  love  the  lovely  and  the 
beautiful  and  the  true,  and  to  cherish  these  though  all  hell  joins 
in  scorn — that,  clothed  with  a  new  diviner,  more  ethereal,  spirit- 
ual form,  lives  forever,  and  is  forever  the  redeeming,  glorify- 
ing principle  of  all  existence.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


SOCIAL  VICES  IN  AMERICAN  COLONIES. 


The  following  article,  under  the  title  of  "The  Iniquity  of 
Sodom."  appears  as  an  editorial  in  the  New  York  Churchman 
for  March  26th  of  the  present  year,  and  it  is  so  full  alike  of  a 
seeming  appreciation  of  virtue  and  of  verdant  ignorance,  or  of 
subtle  hypocrisy,  that  I  have  deemed  it  worthy  of  a  place  and 
of  comment  in  The  Globe. 

"  The  miserable  disclosures  of  social  life  in  American  col- 
onies abroad,  which,  in  quick  succession,  have  recently  been 
published,  ought  not  to  be  passed  by  in  silence.  Not  all  the 
revelations  of  slum  depravity  can  have  a  tithe  of  the  corrupt- 
ing power  of  these  domestic  scandals  in  'high  life.' 

"The  former  are  the  vices  of  the  dregs  of  humanity,  under 
conditions  fatally  unfavorable  to  purity.  The  latter  are  the 
crimes  of  the  inheritors  of  the  nation's  best  blood  and  breed- 
ing, and  of  all  the  advantages  that  the  highest  civilization  can 
bestow.  The  ascensive  power  of  evil  is  very  slight.  Its  coarse- 
ness disgusts  and  offends  those  who  are  in  any  degree  lifted 
above  its  manifestations  in  the  lower  strata  of  society  But 
its  development  in  gross  forms  of  sensuality,  among  the  favor- 
ites of  fortune  and  the  heirs  of  honored  names,  strikes  down 
through  every  layer,  distributing  mildew  and  fungus,  like  rain 
upon  a  broken  thatched  hay-stack.  Of  no  crime  is  this  more 
true  than  of  wicked  lewdness  in  high  places.  It  befouls  pure 
minds  that  could  not  be  contaminated  by  squalid  vice.  It 
weakens  the  defenses  of  the  innocent  and  breaks  down  the 
scruples  of  the  timid.  It  sets  a  fashion  that  is  sure  to  find  fol- 
lowers by  the  sheer  contagion  of  example,  and  it  arouses  sus- 
picions that  might  smite  down  the  innocent  with  guilty.  The 
purity  of  American  women  has  been  the  proud  boast  of  Ameri- 
can men,  and  the  respectful  wonder  of  aliens.  'Can  you  trust 
your  men  in  such  a  case?'  was  asked  of  a  young  American  in 
an  English  drawing-room,  where  the  unconventionality  of 
American  maidens  was  under  discussion. 

"  'We  can  trust  our  young  girls  in  such  a  case,  and  always,' 
was  his  quiet  and  dignified  reply.  Only  the  other  day,  the 
London  Spectator  said,  'Whatever  may  be  the  shortcomings  of 


SOCIAL  VICES  IN  AMERICAN  COLONIES.  85 

the  United  States,  its  social  life  is  wonderfully  free  from  those 
dark  shadows  which  disfigure  the  domestic  life  of  older  coun- 
tries.' We  believe  most  sincerely  that  American  womanhood 
deserves  all  such  praise,  and  more.  But  we  cannot  be  insen- 
sible to  such  demonstrations  of  the  corrupting  force  of  wealth, 
luxury  and  idleness,  as  the  last  few  weeks  have  furnished.  It 
was  not  a  moment  too  soon  that  the  rector  of  Trinity  parish. 
New  York,  addressing  the  '  Sons  of  the  Revolution,'  last  Wash- 
ington's Birthday,  drew  the  picture  of  Janet  Livingstone,  watch- 
ing alone,  at  her  window  by  the  Hudson,  for  the  boat  that  was 
bringing  her  husband's  body  back  for  burial  in  St.  Paul's  Chapel 
forty-three  years  after  he  had  fallen,  slain,  under  the  walls  of 
Quebec — 'And  when  they  go  to  seek  her,  they  find  her  stretched 
insensible  on  the  floor.'  This  after  fifty  years  of  faithful  wait- 
ing for  reunion  with  the  lost!  .  .  Where  be  the  fribbles 
of  our  gay  society?  Where  be  they  who  say  there  can  be  no 
happiness  in  married  life?  Where  be  the  fashionable  women, 
who  must  have  men  to  dally  with  in  the  absence  of  their  hus- 
bands, and  who,  in  the  hour  of  marriage,  reflect  with  pleasure 
that  if  things  do  not  turn  out  to  their  minds,  divorce  will  soon 
and  easily  set  them  free?'  Or  as  Ezekiel  prophesied  against 
Jerusalem,  '  Behold,  this  was  the  iniquity  of  thy  sister  Sodom; 
pride,  fullness  of  bread,  and  abundance  of  idleness  was  in  her 
and  in  her  daughter.  .  .  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God, 
Sodom  thy  sister  hath  not  done  as  thcu  hast  done,  .... 
neither  hath  Samaria  committed  half  thy  sins.'  The  perversion 
of  privilege,  opportunity,  obligation,  enhances  guilt  with  all 
the  aggravation  of  a  breach  of  trust.  The  whole  country  feels 
itself  disgraced  by  these  scandalous  reports  of  its  citizens 
abroad,  and  is  disposed  to  mete  out  retribution  with  '  many 
stripes.' " 

It  is  a  great  deal  better  to  begin  at  home,  and  I  respectfully 
submit  that  either  the  writer  of  this  article  does  not  know 
enough  of  the  average  life  of  American  women  in  particular,  or 
of  their  lives  as  compared  with  the  lives  of  the  women  of  other 
nations  and  countries,  or  else  he  knows  too  much  to  allow  of 
his  speaking  on  the  subject  with  such  emphasis  in  a  so-called 
religious  newspaper.  If  one  were  allowed  to  suppose  that  the 
writer  was  a  young  clergyman  of  exceptional  purity,  just  es- 
caped from  a  theological  seminary,  one  might  smile  at  the  elo- 
quence of  the  youth  and  pity  him  for  the  revelations  that  arc 
yet  to  dawn  upon  his  untutored  and  inexperienced  life  and 
mind.  But  there  is  a  maturity  and  a  deliberation  about  this 
utterance  that  seem  to  lift  it  out  of  the  sphere  of  verdancy. 
One  is,  therefore,  almost  obliged  to  conclude  that  the  writer  is 


86  THE  GLOBE. 

a  hypocrite  or  an  arrant  knave,  who  has  written  his  little  piece 
to  please  the  women  and  to  help  on  the  advertising  of  this 
very  worldly  religious  paper.  I  am  not  saying  that  this  is  so. 
I  would  much  rather  believe  the  first  part  of  my  proposition. 

I  had  a  mother  whose  memory  for  more  than  a  generation 
I  have  honored  next  to  heaven.  I  have  daughters  whose  vir- 
tue is  dearer  to  me  than  my  own  life,  and  God  forbid  that  I 
should  ever  say  or  write  a  word  that  would  cast  a  shadow  up- 
on the  virtuous  lives  of  any  women,  or  that  would  make  this 
virtue  seem  scarcer  than  it  really  is;  and  hence  1  will  not  ven- 
ture an  opinion  as  to  the  comparative  numbers  of  virtuous  and 
unvirtuous  women  in  America.  That  is  not  my  sphere,  and  I 
have  never  yet  seen  a  woman  so  far  fallen  in  vice  that  I  would 
not  give  her  my  kindest  sympathy  and  any  aid  in  my  power; 
but  on  the  two  points  emphasized  in  this  article  in  the  Church- 
man, 1  have  very  violent  opinions  and  mean  to  express  them. 

First. — It  is  an  outrage,  a  libelous  and  cowardly  outrage,  to 
publish  an  editorial  in  a  New  York  so-called  religious  news- 
paper, which  reflects  in  a  wholesale  way  upon  a  lack  of  virtue 
and  the  prevailing  vices  of  our  American  colonies  abroad, 
while  it  assumes  that  the  American  colonies,  right  under  the 
nose  and  eyes  of  the  Churchman,  in  New  York,  are  not  only 
less  given  to  social  vice,  but  are  a  lot  of  choice  fruits  of  the 
virtues  of  the  world.  And  this  is  not  only  libelous  and  coward- 
ly, it  is  simply  a  lie,  a  bare-faced,  contemptible,  white-washing 
lie.  American  people  abroad,  whether  in  groups  and  colonies, 
as  artists  or  travelers,  are  as  virtuous  as  average  American, 
people  at  home;  and  I  appeal  to  the  common  sense  and  com- 
mon instincts  of  justice  and  fair  play  in  the  minds  and  hearts 
of  men  and  women  everywhere  to  sustain  me  in  this  assertion. 

People  in  American  colonies  abroad  are  naturally  thrown 
closer  together  in  their  social  intercourse  than  the  same  people 
would  be  were  they  scattered  through  their  various  social  cir- 
cles in  different  places  at  home;  and  this  closeness  of  inter- 
course breeds  familiarity  of  action  and  manners,  just  such  as 
are  practiced  in  family  circles  and  social  "  sets  "  at  home.  So 
these  colonies  become  very  much  like  traveling  theatrical  com- 
panies— free  and  easy — and  often  enough,  too  often,  no  doubt, 
virtue  slips  the  knot  of  propriety,  and  flies  henceforth  on  brok- 
en wings.     But  the  same  is  precisely  true  of  the  very  church 


SOCIAL  VICES  IN  AMERICAN  COLONIES.  87 

circles  wherein  the  Churchman's  writer  is  supposed  to  worship, 
and  the  same  is  still  more  frequently  true  in  the  thousands  of 
New  York  social  circles  not  so  piously  given  to  virtue  or  wor- 
ship as  the  writer  of  the  Churchman's  article  is  supposed  to  be. 
And  it  is  simply  petty,  back-door  cowardice  to  stand  in  New 
York  and  fling  stones  at  the  Americans  in  Rome,  or  Paris,  or 
London,  while  sending  the  Churchman  as  a  sort  of  a  valentine 
to  the  prostitutes  and  debauchees  residing  close  by  its  own 
structure. 

Second. — The  article  is  still  more  vulnerable  and  false  in  its 
estimate  of  the  comparative  virtue  of  American  women  and  the 
women  of  other  nations.  It  is  all  very  well  to  write  pretty  let- 
ters about  the  freedom  and  the  safe-side  virtuous  abandon  of 
our  American  girls.  A  closer  inspection  proves  all  this  to  be 
false.  The  supposed  safe-side  abandon  of  the  average  Ameri- 
can girl,  at  home  and  abroad,  has  not  only  ruined  more 
American  girls  and  American  boys  and  young  ftien  than  any 
other  one  influence  on  earth  at  this  hour — not  excepting  whisky 
— it  has  also  entered  into  and  vitiated  the  old  civilizations  of 
other  nations,  I  think  it  has,  ia  the  last  twenty  years,  taken 
twenty  per  cent,  out  of  the  modest  virtues  of  the  young  women 
of  Europe,  and  that  it  has  done  more  to  produce  the  very  state 
of  things  the  writer  in  the  Churchman  complains  of  than  has 
any  one  influence  escaping  from  our  boasted  American  civil- 
ization. 

It  is  always  pleasant  for  a  man  of  the  world  to  meet  a  free- 
unconventional  girl  or  young  woman.  But  it  is  always  infi- 
nitely more  gratifying  for  any  respectable  man  to  meet  a  young 
girl,  or  a  young  woman,  whose  modesty  at  least  keeps  pace 
with  her  good  sense  and  her  average  information.  In  truth, 
an  old-fashioned  modest  girl,  anywhere  under  thirty,  is  as  re- 
freshing to  a  refined  man  in  these  days  as  the  first  performance 
of  "  Black  Crook"  in  this  country  was,  no  doubt,  refreshing  to 
the  old  voluptuous  admirers  of  mere  animal  and  cotton-padded 
anatomy.  In  fact,  men's  respect  for  the  average  fast  Ameri- 
can society  girl  is  but  a  shade  above  their  respect  for  the  bal- 
let-girl of  the  stage.  Personally,  I  have  neither  praise  nor  dis- 
praise for  the  virtuous  abandon  of  the  average  American  girl. 
But  it  is  folly  to  place  either  her  manners  or  her  character 
above  the  manners  and  character  of  the  girls  trained  by  other 
standards  and  in  days  gone  by. 


m  THE  GLOBE. 

After  an  observation  of  pretty  close  and  wide  circles  of  ac- 
quaintance for  the  last  forty  years,  I  believe  exactly  what  I 
have  said,  and  on  the  special  point  advocated  by  the  Church- 
man, quoting  from  the  London  Spectator — usually  a  well-in- 
formed and  temperate  and  conservative  paper — I  am  sure  that 
the  Spectator  and  the  Churchman  are  both  wrong,  and  I  think 
they  are  both  deliberately  and  hypocritically  wrong. 

American  women  are  no  better  or  more  virtuous,  though 
smarter  on  the  surface  and  a  little  less  reliable,  perhaps,  than 
English  women,  or  French  women,  or  German  women,  or  Ital- 
ian women,  or  Spanish  women,  or  than  Chinese  or  Japanese 
women,  and  it  is  a  piece  of  homespun,  verdant,  or  hypocritic 
vanity  and  flunkyism  to  claim  or  maintain  any  such  nonsense. 

I  am  not  saying  or  intending  to  say  anything  against  Amer 
ican  women,  virtuous  or  otherwise.  It  is  not  my  vocation  to 
judge,  slander  or  denounce  any  class  or  nationality  of  women. 
For  that  matter  I  perfectly  agree  with  the  Saviour,  that  thous- 
ands of  publicans  and  harlots—  even  of  our  own  days — are  sur- 
er of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  than  the  pious  and  conceited 
prudes  and  deacons  and  editgrs  who  often  sit  in  judgment  on 
them.  But  I  believe  in  being  equally  just  and  charitable  to  all 
women,  of  whatever  race  or  nation.  And  it  is  paltry  narrowness, 
ignorance  and  vice  of  the  worst  kind  to  pander  to  the  vanity 
of  a  class  already  so  full  of  it  that  it  is  difficult  tor  a  modest 
man  to  face  it  without  swearing.  No  doubt  such  Churchman 
editorials  help  the  subscription  list  and  the  advertising  col- 
umns; and  as  the  Churchman  is  a  very  fashionable  and  a  very 
worldly  religious  newspaper,  all  these  pretty  subterfuges  of 
rirtue  must  be  gone  into  and  encouraged.  You  must  pat  the 
home-libertine  on  the  back,  especially  if  he  be  a  heavy  adver- 
tiser. He  likes  it,  and  his  wife  likes  it,  though  she  bite  her  lips 
in  shame  in  some  foreign  land,  in  order  to  be  absent  from  her 
h'ome-praised  libertine  lord.  Such  praise  is  good  for  business; 
and  "that's  what  we  are  all  after;"  but  to  call  such  stuff  reli- 
gious truth  is  a  parody  on  Calvary  and  Almighty  God. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


LOVE'S  COMING. 


O  Love,  thou  comest  not  wtien  thou  art  bid, 
But  like  the  lightning's  flash,  the  storm  at  sea, 
The  Holy  Spirit's  breath  of  destiny, 
Thou  art  most  mighty  where  thou  art  most  hid  ; 
Thou  creepest  softly  'neath  the  unborn  lid 
Of  living,  sleeping,  conscious  infancy; 
And,  in  thine  unbid,  subtle  constancy, 
Undoest  what  the  hates  and  haters  did: 
Thou  cam'st  to-day,  in  blushes  of  the  morn, 
In  tender  thoughts  by  kindred  spirits  sent, 
And  so  thou  conquerest  all  care,  all  scorn; 
Nor  wilt  thou  be  denied,  or  ever  bent 
From  the  fair  paths  of  thy  sweet  pilgrimage 
O'er  crowns  and  crosses,  aye,  from  age  to  age. 

W,  H.  TUORNE. 


TENNYSON'S  TWO  VOICES. 


I  SUPPOSE  all  intelligent  readers  of  Tennyson  are  agreed  that 
as  "Locksley  Hall  "  gives  us  the  heart  and  sentiment  of  the 
poet,  broken,  scattered — gone  to  burning  flame  of  indignation, 
a  you  will — with  "the  far  off  interest  of  tears,"  simply  enough 
gathered  in  the  closing  stanzas — 

"  Comes  a  vapor  from  the  margin,  blackening  over  heath  and  holt, 
Cramming  all  the  blast  before  it — in  its  breast  a  thunderbolt — 
Let  it  fall  on  Locksley  Hall,  with  rain  or  hail  or  fire  or  snow; 
For  the  mighty  wind  arises,  roaring  seaward  as  I  go — '' 

no  longer  "all  the  current  of  my  being"  setting  toward  "Cous- 
in Amy,"  but  now  what  there  is  left  of,  it  turning  quite  away 
from  "  Cousin  Amy" — in  fact,  already  turned  quite  against  her 
and  her  sensual  choice — so  "The  Two  Voices" — a  much  deep- 
"Cr  and  more  elaborate  piece  of  work — gives  us  the  real  mind 


40  THE  GLOBE. 

and  philosophy  of  the  man.  And  the  two  together  arc  clear 
enough  instances,  vivid  enough  expressions — first,  of  the  pain- 
ful, eternal  struggle  going  on  in  this  world  between  the  heart 
of  truth  and  culture  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  thing  called  a 
heart,  of  selfishness  and  sensuality,  on  the  other.  Second,  of 
that  still  deeper  and  harder  figlit,  to  be  fought  sooner  or  later 
by  every  human  being  that  would  rise  one  inch  out  of  the  mire 
of  common  brutehood,  viz.:  the  battle  between  one's  own  nat- 
ural darkness,  unillumined,  mere  physical  blindness,  and  the 
countless  blessed  lights  that  press  on  us,  even  in  this  much 
slandered  world — ever  pressing  from  countless  stars  and  suns 
and  flowers  and  friends,  and  larger,  nobler,  more  heroic  natures 
than  our  own;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  the  fight  between  what 
we  call  highest  and  lowest  in  each  individual  human  being.  No 
settling  of  the  mere  question  of  bread;  no  solving  of  the  mere 
question  of  dogma — touching  what  men  call  the  origin  of  evil 
and  its  cure  and  crown — but  touching  the  ever  more  practical 
question  of  one's  own  clearness  of  being  and  purpose,  of  one's 
own  faith  in  one's  self;  of  true  self-respect  or  self-contempt, 
and  inward,  eternal,  self-despising — the  deepest  hell  of  exist- 
ence yet  known  or  knowable  in  the  boundless  realms  of  human 
being  or  human  dreaming  and  imagination. 

We  cannot  count  suicides  by  the  number  of  those  who 
drown  themselves,  hang  themselves,  take  poison,  or  in  any  oth- 
er way  put  an  end  to — oj,  if  you  will,  violently  and  in  an  un- 
timely manner,  change  the  current  of  their  lives.  These  are 
but  few,  and  comparatively  of  insignificant  account.  Nor  can 
we  calculate  self-slaughter  by  the  number  who  would  take  their 
own  lives  were  they  not  too  cowardly  even  seriously  to  try  it. 
The  deeper  fact  of  murder  is  the  daily  slaughter  of  the  moral 
nature,  the  choking  of  truth  or  trueness  out  of  the  soul,  the 
admitting  of  equivocation  and  a  lie,  and  the  instant  slaying  of 
peace,  self-respect,  and  all  directness  of  vision  and  being,  for- 
ever— the  loss  of  a  clear  look,  even  into  the  eyes  that  love  us, 
and  every  true  feeling  for  hearts  that  have  died,  and  others  that 
would  die,  are  dying  daily,  to  save  us  still.  Here  is  life's 
breathless,  unuttered  tragedy,  while  the  powder  and  feathers 
and  paint  and  frills,  and  sickly,  simpering  smiles  and  prema- 
turely glazed  vision,  looks,  dull  cheerfulness,  and  the  money, 
we  substitute  for  truth  and  health  and  love  and  God,  are  drown- 


TENNYSON'S  TWO    VOICES.  41 

Meantime  "the  two  voices  of  destiny"  behind  all  this  are 
pressing,  ever  pressing,  with  thousand-fold  multiplied,  winged 
breath  of  love  and  hate,  contempt  of  the  God  and  hope  of  the 
angels. 

"Thou  art  so  full  of  misery, 
Were  it  not  better  not  to  be?" 

'*  Is  life  worth  living?"     Live  it  nobly  for  one  shining,  gold 
en  moment,  and  quit,  forever  quit  thy  craven,  cringing,  shrink- 
ing, lying,  fear  and  shame!     So 

"To  the  still  small  voice  I  said  " 
very  mildly,  not  overstrong,  no  clear,  full  sight  in  my  sweet, 
dim,  gentle  words,  but  still  a  fixed  ray  of  heaven's  own  dawn- 
ing, stirring  me  to  breathe  my  quiet  reply  : 

"  Let  me  not  cast  in  endless  shade 
What  is  so  wonderfully  made.'' 

I  am  not  afraid,  not  I;  but  I  would  not  so  ruthlessly  mar  and 
blast  the  finest  handiwork  of  nature — mayhap,  the  image  of 
God. 

"  To  Awhich  the  voice  did  urge  reply." 

Catching  me  finely  in  my  cowardice  and  self-deceit,  touching 
me  by  memory  of  my  own  loved  faith  in  a  resurrection  and  a 
future : 

'•  To-day  I  saw  the  dragon  fly 
Come  from  the  wells  where  he  did  lie. 

"  An  inner  impulse  rent  the  veil 
Of  his  old  husk  ;  from  head  to  tail 
Came  out  clear  plates  of  sapphire  mail. 

"  He  dried  his  wings,  like  gauze  they  grew  : 
Thro'  crofts  and  pastures  wet  with  dew, 
A  living  flash  of  light  he  flew."  * 

If  life  is  not  worth  living  in  thy  present  dull,  dragon-fly, 
pent-up,  dark  wells  of  practical,  sesthetic,  sentimental,  false 
and  slimy  existence — kill  thyself;  stop  thy  weak  whining  and 
complaining;  cut  the  ropes,  burn  the  bridges,  pierce  thy  weak- 
ness; the  stars  are  all  shining,  the  sun  is  still  there.  The  gods 
are  not  dead.  If  thou  arc  worth  it,  nature  is  fertile  in  invent- 
ive recuperation,  measureless  in  power.  If  thou  art  worth  liv- 
ing, she — thy  great,  infinite  mother,  mother  of  God,  yea,  God 
Himself — the  indwelling,  undying,  uncomplaining  Energy  of 
aH — she  will  seize  thy  broken  fragments  of  being,  catch  thy 


4S  THE  GLOBE. 

very  dust  as  it  flies,  and  make — not  a  dragon-fly,  not  a  mere 
hummer  and  buzzer  and  black  philosopher,  but  a  new  creation; 
not  thee  —the  dark,  bitter,  sycophant  thee,  but  a  nobler,  not 
thee,  other  than  thee — a  shining,  sunny,  angelic,  beautiful  thee. 
By  thy  own  faith  die,  and  rise  to  "heights  unknown." 

And  from  this  point,  throughout  the  poem,  we  shall  notice 
how  the  devil's  voice — the  voice  of  despair  and  the  voice  of 
physical  nature  and  science — has  in  each  case  the  better  of  the 
argument;  just  so  far  and  so  long  as  the  poet,  the  spirit  of  hope 
and  life  and  beauty,  confines  itself  merely  to  argument,  based 
on  any  received  theory  or  creed  of  life  extant  at  this  hour  of 
the  world.  And  that  it  is  only  as  the  genius  of  the  spiritual, 
the  singer  of  hope  rises  into  its  own  ethereal  sphere  and  sings 
its  true  sight  clearly,  sweetly,  as  the  skylark  sings  its  song,  and 
as  the  rose  flings  its  fragrance  on  the  winds;  only  then  that  the 
high  soul  of  poesy  becomes  the  true  echo  of  infinite,  ineffable 
light — unanswerable,  strong,  peaceful,  restful  and  pure  as  the 
breath  of  the  mountain  amid  a  cloudless  sky.  First,  the  poet 
answers  in  the  language  of  the  extinct  school  of  the  biblical 
Hugh  Miller  geologist;  perhaps  in  the  real  spirit  of  the  true 
line  of  creation  or  evolution  in  this  world  : 

..."  When  first  the  world  began. 
Young  nature  thro'  five  cycles  ran, 
And  in  the  sixth  she  moulded  man. 

"  She  gave  him  mind,  the  lordliest 
Proportion,  and,  above  the  rest, 
Dominion  in  the  head  and  breast." 

I  am  not  only  wonderfully  made,  I  am,  as  the  head  of  crea- 
tion, altogether  too  great  and  of  too  great  importance  to  take 
my  own  life;  but  the  subtle  voice  detects  the  weakne.ss  of  this 
argument,  and  in  a  moment,  and  with  biting  sarcasm  replies  : 

"  Think  you  this  mould  of  hopes  and  fears 
Could  find  no  statelier  than  his  peers 
In  yonder  hundred  million  spheres  ?" 
»  «  »  * 

"  Tho'  thou  wert  scattered  to  the  wind, 
Yet  is  \.\iex^  plenty  of  the  kind." 

Your  greatness  is  only  comparative,  and  judged  by  this 
standard,  there  is  no  special  reason  why  you  should  continue  to 


TENNYSON'S  TPVO  VOICES.  4t 

live.  Nor,  we  confess,  is  the  next  argument  of  greater  weight. 
What  if 

"  No  compound  of  this  earthly  ball 
Is  like  another,  all  in  all." 

And  there  is  much  keenness  and  force  in  the  bitter  reply: 

"Good  soul,  suppose  I  grant  it  thee, 
Who'll  weep  for  thy  dificiency  ? 

"  Or  will  one  dream  be  less  intense 
When  thy  peculiar  difference 
Is  cancell'd  in  the  world  of  sense  ?" 

Each  perceives  the  defeat  of  hope,  the  victory  of  physical 
sense,  and  the  dark  voice  is  not  slow  to  clinch  the  argument 
and  sieze  the  advantage — 

' '  Thou  art  so  steeped  in  misery. 
Surely  'twere  better  not  to  be." 

And  nothing  is  clearer  all  along  these  lines  than  that  Tenny- 
son, though  in  nature  and  hope  and  circumstance  a  conserva- 
tive poet  of  hope  and  the  spiritual,  was,  nevertheless,  possess- 
ed with  the  rationalism  rampant  in  his  youth,  and  only  quietly 
gathering  its  laurels  and  laying  foundations  for  the  future  in 
these  later  years.  The  lover  of  life  and  its  apologist  next 
pleads  that  existence  should  not  be  voluntarily  darkened; 
some  "  happier  chance  "  may  spring  into  the  day — 

"  Some  turn  this  sickness  yet  might  take." 

But  the  dark  voice  is  now  quick  and  alert — 

....  "  What  drug  can  make 
A  wither'd  palsy  cease  to  shake?" 

Well  might  the  dreamer  weep;  thus  pressed  to  the  wall» 
every  subterfuge  pierced  by  the  cruel  logic  of  sense:  and  only 
out  of  the  weeping — burning,  blessed  tears,  that  bring  a  soul 
to  a  sense  of  truth  and  itself  again — only  through  these  do  we 
get  the  first  real  word  of  poetic  power. 

"  I  wept,  tho'  I  should  die,  I  know 
That  all  about  the  thorn  will  blow  > 

In  tufts  of  rosy-tinted  snow; 

"And  men  thro'  novel  spheres  of  thought, 
Still  moving  after  truth  long  sought, 
^tV/ learn  new  things  when  I  am  not." 

And  this  is  the  only  true  argument  for  life.     Get  away  from  all 


44  THE  GLOBE 

self-pleading,  all  self-enlargement,  all  self-importance — with 
true  self-renunciation  life  only  begins.  He  that  loses  his  life 
finds  it.  I  must  live  my  little  day,  not  because  nature  would 
miss  me  were  I  not,  but  I,  being  here,  am  a  coward  to  consider 
flight.  I  must  live,  not  because  nature  needs  me,  but  having 
made  me,  I  myself  need  my  own  bravest  thoughts  of  warfare 
to  make  myself  worthy  the  nature  out  of  which  I  came  and  of 

which  I  am  a  part.     I  must  live,  because,  whether  I  live  or  not, 

* 
'•The  fresh  rose  from  yonder  thorn 

Gives  back  the  bending  heavens  in  dew;" 

and  because,  as  a  poet  of  the  hour,  I  am  a  coward  to  think  of 
not  breathing  its  aching  and  shining  moments  through.    What 

if 

'    .     .     .     "gray,  prime 
Make  thy  grass  hoar  with  early  rime?'' 


What  if 


"  The  highest  mounted  mind,  be  said. 
Still  sees  the  sacred  morning  spread 
The  silent  summit  overhead?" 


Suppose  that  thirty  seasons  do  not  render  plain 

"  Those  lovely  lights  that  still  remain 
Just  breaking  over  land  and  main." 

That  is  no  reason  for  the  sophistry  which  follows: 

"  Forerun  thy  peers,  thy  time,  and  let 
Thy  feet  millenniums  hence  be  set 
In  midst  of  knowledge,  dread'd  not  yet." 

And  it  is  not  true  that  the  man  who  meets  life  bravely 

.  .   "has  uot  gained  a  real  height 
Because  the  scale  is  infinite." 

That  is  a  real  height  which,  for  any  one  moment  of  exist- 
ence, enables  me  to  look  back  and  down  on  a  conquered  base- 
ness or  a  conquered  lie.  It  is,  in  fact,  in  one  sense,  a  moment 
of  infinite  joy  and  gain.  But  there  is  much  provoking  logic  in 
the  following: 

"  'Twere  better  not  to  breathe  or  speak, 
Than  cry  for  strength,  remaining  weak, 
And  seem  to  find,  but  still  to  seek. 

"  Moreover,  but  to  seem  to  find, 
Ask  what  thou  lackest,  thought  resigned. 
A  healthy  frame,  a  qaiet  mind  ?" 


TENNYSON'S  TIVO  VOICES.  45 

And  this  weakens  the  dreamer  and  brings  him  to  a  personal 
fallacy  again, 

"I  said,  when  I  am  gone  away, 
'  He  dared  not  tarry,"  men  will  say. 
Doing  dishonor  to  my  clay." 

And  though  this  has,  perhaps,  been  the  argument  that  has 
kept  many  a  man  from  taking  his  own  life,  the  voice  of  the 
rationalist  seizes  it  here  most  unmercifully,  shows  its  cowardly 
quality,  and  tears  it  to  shreds: 

••  This  is  more  vile,  he  made  reply, 
To  breathe  and  loathe,  to  live  and  sigh, 
Than  once  from  dread  of  pain  to  die. 

"Sick  art  thou — a  divided  will, 
Still  heaping  on  the  fear  of  ill. 
The  fear  of  men,  a  co^vard  still. 

"  Do  men  love  thee?    Art  thou  so  bound 
To  men,  that  how  thy  name  may  sound 
Will  vex  thee  lying  underground? 

"  The  memory  of  the  withered  leaf 
In  endless  time  is  scarce  more  brief 
Than  of  the  garnered  autumn  sheaf. 

"  Go,  vexed  spirit,  sleep  in  trust! 
The  right  ear  that  is  filled  with  dust 
Hears  little  of  the  false  or  just. " 

This  is  keener  than  a  two-edged  sword,  cutting  to  the  very 
core  of  sham,  and  the  craven  fear  of  men.  Yet  in  the  last  lit- 
tle lines  there  is  deep  and  tragic  fallacy.     What  if 

"The  right  ear,  that  is  filled  with  dust, 
Hears  little  of  the  false  or  just  ?" 

The  right  and  left  ears  that  are  ?iot  filled  with  dust  do  hear 
more  than  a  little  of  the  false  and  just;  and  no  matter  how  they 
shirk  it,  the  sounds  of  such  are  forever  penetrating  to  the  most 
callous  depths,  even  of  the  shallowest  souls.  But  finding  it 
hard  to  pluck  resolves  from  this  wide  waste  of  emptiness,  and 
scornful  pride,  the  poet  swings  back  to  youth;  longs  for  the 
tenderness  and  breadth  of  soul  and  boldness  of  tongue  that 
were  his  when  he  paused  and  sang  among  the  tents  of  battle — 
before  one's  own  battle  had  come,  one's  own  heart  had  got 


46  THE  GLOBE. 

broken,  one's  own  head  sadly  mixed  with  life's  conflicting  rays, 
while  one  was  yet 

"  Waiting  to  strive  the  happy  strife, 
To  war  with  falsehood  to  the  knife, 
And  not  to  lose  the  good  of  life.  ' 

While,  in  fact,  one  did  not  know  the  frailty  of  "Cousin  Amy's" 
heart,  and  had  no  real  experience  of  the  craven  cowardice  of 
the  sensual  soul  of  man,  while  yet  the  strife  was  the  "happy 
strife"  of  poet  merely — not  at  all  "to  the  knife,"  and  such 
arguments  as 

.    .    .    "  What  drug  can  make 
A  wither'd  palsy  cease  to  shake  ?" 

Alas!  youth  comes  not  back,  but  the  probing  voice  comes  back, 
and  says  in  a  word,  "Cease  all  that  sentimental  dreaming" — 

..."  Thy  dream  was  good 
While  thou  abodest  in  the  bud  ; 
It  was  the  stirring  of  the  blood. 

"  If  nature  put  not  forth  her  power, 
About  the  opening  of  the  flower, 
Who  is  it  that  could  live  an  hour  ? 

"  Then  comes  the  check,  the  change,  the  fall  ; 
Pain  rises  up,  old  pleasures  pall, — 
There  is  one  remedy  for  all." 

Go,  hang  thyself! 

' '  For  every  worm  beneath  the  moon 
Draws  different  threads,  and  late  or  soon 
Spins,  toiling  out  his  own  cocoon. 

"  Cry,  faint  not ;  either  Truth  is  born 
Beyond  the  polar  gleam  forlorn 
Or  in  the  gateways  of  the  morn.,' 

Thank  heaven,  sometimes  in  the  gateways  of  the  morn!  and 
that  many  a  thickest,  blackest,  cloudy  sky  has  broken  in  in- 
effable splendor  over  eyes  not  yet  dull  by  sinning,  much  less 
dim  by  deceiving,  or  dark  in  death.  Let  us  not  anticipate:  the 
quick  voice  admits  that 

"  Sometimes  a  little  corner  shines, 
As  over  rainy  mist  inclines 
A  gleaming  crag  with  belts  of  pines." 

But  even  this  slight  admission  is  gauged  and  qualified — 


TENNYSON'S  TWO  VOICES .  47 

' '  I  will  go  forward,  sayest  thou, 

I  shall  not  fail  to  find  her  now; 

Look  up,  the  fold  is  on  her  brow. 
' '  If  straight  thy  track,  or  if  oblique, 

Thou  know'st  not.     Shadows  thou  dost  strike 

Embracing  cloud,  Ixion-like; 
"  And  owning  but  a  little  more 

Than  beasts,  abidest  lame  and  poor. 

Calling  thyself  a  little  lower 
' '  Than  angels.     Cease  to  wail  and  brawl  ! 

Why  inch  by  inch  to  darkness  crawl? 

There  is  one  remedy  for  all  " — 

A  sufficient  dose  of  laudanum.  Now  the  "dull,  one-sided 
voice  presses  a  little  too  far;  the  vision  is  sharper  than  the 
purpose  is  pure,  and  this  overpressure  of  logic  and  mere  men- 
tal advantage  drives  the  spiritual  soul  away  from  all  thought 
of  self  once  more,  and  we  have  those  sublime  lines  that  have 
gone  out  into  all  the  earth,  center,  soul  and  perennial  numbers 
of  so  many  countless  millions  of  other  lines  in  prose  and 
verse,  since  these  were  written.  For  the  poet,  the  seer,  is  ever 
in  advance  of  science,  ever  in  advance  of  men's  philosophy 
and  rationalism,  so  called.  Admitting  his  own  misery,  with- 
out admitting  the  force  of  the  dark  adviser's  reasoning  as 
regards  the  deserts  and  proper  end  of  his  own  misery — admit- 
ting, too,  that 

.     .     .     '  'Age  to  age  succeeds. 

Blowing  a  war  of  tongues  and  deeds, 

A  dust  of  systems  and  of  creeds;" 

that   his    own  achievement   and    the   general    confusion    and 

low  selfishness  of  the  race  will  not  bear  close  scrutiny,  still  he 

grandly  proclaims  the  eternal  gospel  of — yes,  yes^ — who  shall 

own  it? — 

"  I  cannot  hide  that  some  have  striven. 

Achieving  calm,  to  whom  was  given 

The  joy  that  mixes  man  with  heaveff: 
"  Who,  rowing  hard  against  the  stream, 

Saw  distant  gates  of  Eden  gleam, 

And  did  not  dream  it  was  a  dream; 
' '  But  heard,  by  secret  transport  led, 

Ev'n  in  the  charnels  of  the  dead. 

The  murmur  of  the  fountain-head." 

And   though   the  sullen   answer  did  slide  betwixt,  appar- 
ently evading,  it  really  does  not  evade,  but  gives  the  true  and 


48  THE  GLOBE. 

only  divine  and  rational  explanation  of  every  martyr  and 
martyr  vision  yet  evolved  from  the  quenchless  germs  and 
countless  wrecks  of  time: 

"  Not  that  the  grounds  of  hope  were  fix'd, 
The  elements  were  kindlier  mix'd." 

Still,  even  in  this,  keen  as  it  is,  there  is  an  unintended,  per- 
haps unconscious  fallacy.  The  fact  that  the  elements  were 
kindlier  mixed  in  some  cases,  are  always  in  some  cases,  is 
really  the  only — all-sufficient  ground  for  seeing  that  the 
grounds  of  hope  were  fixed.  In  a  word,  here  is  redemption 
by  nature,  that  is  the  Mixer  of  the  elements  in  all  natures 
is — yes,  yes,  who  shall  name  him?  Who  shall  question? — 
See  only  the  eternal  truth  here  unconsciously  hinted  that  the 
everlasting  Maker  and  Mixer  is,  is  thereby  the  sole  redeemer 
of  men.  By  blood? — O  yes,  only  by  blood — mixed  and  re- 
mixed in  those 

' '  Which  did  accomplish  their  desire, 
Bore  and  forbore,  and  did  not  tire, 
Like  Stephen,  an  unquenched  fire." 

Then  there  is  more  weak  reasoning  on  the  part  of  the  spir- 
itual voice,  to  the  effect  that  to  take  one's  life  may  be  but  the 
undoing  of  one  riddle  to  find  a  hundred  new  ones.  In  a  word,, 
cowardice  again;  and  in  reply  to  this  there  is  much  sophistry, 
with  beautiful  touches  concerning  the  peace  and  quietness  of 
the  faces  of  the  dead,  all  good  enough  if  we  were  only  faces, 
but  as  we  are  at  least  memories,  not  from  "sheer  forgetful- 
ncss,"  but  "trailing  clouds  of  glory,"  clouds  of  shame — ever 
— ever  backward,  onward — at  least  this,  or  more.  What  if  the 
child  grows  up  to  honor  or  to  shame,  and  I  heed  it  not,  cold 
in  my  grave.  The  child  heeds  the  grave;  heeds  me;  and 
though  my  hands  be  folded  on  the  breast,  never  so  still,  there 
is,  there  are,  heavens  !  there  are  forever  many  other  things 
expressed  than 

"  Long  disquiet  merged  in  rest." 

And  here  the  real  poet  bursts  into  glory,  seizes  the  old 
quenchless  life  of  nature,  ever-welling,  perpetual,  clear,  all 
joyous,  undying — strong,  fresh  as  ever — each  new  morning, 
where,  though  all  creeds  and  tongues  may  fail — 


TE.VNYSOJV'S    TIVO  VOICES.  49 

"  If  all  be  dark,  vague  voice,  I  said, 
These  things  are  wrapt  in  doubt  and  dread, 
Nor  canst  thou  show  the  dead  are  dead. 

"  The  sap  dries  up;  the  plant  declines. 
A  deeper  tale  my  heart  divines," 

Then,  again,  there  is  much  after  the  old  argument,  thus, 
because  a  man  names  the  name  immortal,  therefore  he  is  im- 
mortal, but  this  will  not  hold;  proves  too  much,  proves  noth- 
ing; and  the  poet   is  strong  only  as  he  keeps  to  the  really 
spiritual.    Again  the  rationalist  has  the  best  of  the  argument — 
"  Where  wert  thou  when  thy  father  play'd 
In  his  free  field,  and  pastime  made, 
A  merry  boy  in  sun  and  shade?  " 

And  though  the  poet  tries  to  evade  the  logic,  he  is  bound  to 
admit,  practically,  that 

.     .     ' '  thou  might'st  defend, 

The  thesis,  which  thy  words  intend — 

That  to  begin  implies  to  end." 

Yet  he  still  argues,  though  weakly,  that  as  we  forgot  the 
first  year  of  infancy,  which  existed  beyond  question,  so  we 
may  have  forgotten  a  pre-existence,  such  as  the  old  myths 
and  some  modern  poets  and  philosophers  have  hinted  might 
have  been  ours.  But  no  "might-have-been"  will  ever  meet 
the  case.  Whatever  there  is  to  rest  upon  must  be  positive 
and  clear,  and  there  is  a  slight  approach  to  this  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines: 

"  Moreover,  something  is  or  seems, 
That  touches  me  with  mystic  gleams. 
Like  glimpses  of  forgotten  dreams," 

Yes,  and  no  wonder — 

"  The  still  voice  laughed.      '  I  talk,'  said  he, 
'  Not  with  thy  dreams.     SufiSce  it  thee 
Thy  pain  is  a  reality.'  " 

What  follows  is  proof  at  once  of  the  weakness  and  strength 
of  the  poet.  Had  he  appealed  to  his  own  experience,  to  the 
experience  of  every  brave  soul  that  has  ever  suffered  and  has 
not  succumbed,  he  might  have  pictured  the  "far-off  interest'of 
tears."  The  health  that  comes  from  fighting  and  conquering 
pain—the  splendid  moments,  God-ful — worth  ages  of  whining 
and  regret,  compensation  for  countless  ills — that  in  every 
noble  effort  to  suppress  and  eradicate  pain,  sin,  death,  is  life 


50  THE  GLOBE. 

and  joy  and  glory;  clearness  and  rest,  not  at  all  unknown  to 
many  and  many  of  the  children  of  men,  and  that  those  mo- 
ments, that  rest,  are  not  only  in  themselves  enough  compensa- 
tion for  all  earth's  bitterness,  but  that  they  do  besides  all 
that  saturate  universal  nature  with  their  special  immortality — 
the  only  undying  God-like  force  we  know  of  in  all  the  limit- 
less range  of  being.  This  th^  poet  did  not  do,  could  not  do. 
What  he  did  do  was  sweet  and  soft  and  pure  as  the  angel 
breath  of  a  still  morning   amid  roses  and   eternal  bloom  of 

flowers. 

"  I  ceased,  and  sat  as  one  forlorn; 

Then  said  the  voice  in  quiet  scorn, 
'  Behold,  it  is  the  sabbath  morn  !  '  " 

Blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost !  Sarcasm  !  Language 
of  the  devil,  applied  to  one  of  the  stillest,  beautifulest  thoughts 
and  hours  that  human  souls  have  ever  participated  in  and 
shared — the  still  hum  of  a  Sabbath  morning — never  mind 
whence  or  how  it  came — what  its  sanctity,  or  authority.  I  can 
tell  thee  it  came  down  out  of  heaven,  from  the  spirit  of 
heaven,  long  ago,  is  bound  to  stay,  its  authority  being  in  its 
own  force  of  peace  and  love  and  good-will  to  men.  And,  as 
usual,  the  devil  overshot  the  mark,  and  through  his  grim  dark- 
ness a  thousand  rays  strike  in. 

' '  And  I  arose,  and  I  released 
The  casement,  and  the  light  increased 
With  freshness  in  the  dawning  east." 

One  midnight,  on  the  pathless  prairie,  my  companion  and 
I  halted  by  an  old  Dutch  hovel,  and  asked  directions  for  the 
nearest  road  leading  toward  our  home,  thirty  miles  away- 
How  the  stars  sparkled,  how  the  wind  nipped,  how  quick  and 
clear  and  sharp  all  our  words  cut,  and  vanished  through  the 
air:  "Take  the  first  section-line  to  the  left,  and  drive  toward 
the  dawn;  fir.st  road  turn  to  the  right;  it  leads  to  home,"  said 
the  pioneer.  We  looked  at  the  stars — they  are  always  true — 
took  our  bearing;  the  horses  sniffed  the  night  air  lightly,  and 
in  two  hours  and  thirty  minutes  we  were  at  home. 

But  who  will  sing  the  horse — the  burden-bearing,  heroic,  self- 
denying  helper,  that  bears  us  homeward  ?  Who  will  sing  the 
soul  that  makes  him  true  ?  Tender,  gentle,  let  thy  words  be — 
no  afifirmer,  no  denyer.  Come,  great  poet  of  the  future,  and 
sing  us  the  helper,  the  song  of  the  soul  of  honor. 


TENNYSON'S  TIVO  VOICES.  51 

'Like   soften'd  airs  that  blowing,  steal, 

When  men  begin  to  uncongeal, 

The  sweet  church-bells  began  to  peal. 


"On  to  God's  house  the  people  prest, 

Passing  the  place  where  each  must  rest, 

Each  entered  like  a  welcome  guest. 

***** 
"I  blessed  them,  and  they  wandered  on, 

I  spoke,  but  answer  came  there  none; 

The  dull  and  bitter  voice  was  gone. 

"A  second  voice  was  at  mine  ear; 
A  little  whisper,  silver-clear — 
A  murmur,  'Be  of  better  cheer.'  " 

That  is  all  ;  the  verses  continue,  but  there  is  not  another 
word,  Tennyson  knew  no  other.  We  have  already  hinted  at 
another  possible  word — yea,  let  us  say,  actual  word — to  us,  at 
least.  But  the  treble  is  always  strained  a  little  in  reaching  the 
highest  notes — possible  at  any  moment — is  always  liable  to 
break  the  voice  and  lose  somewhat  of  its  power.  There  have 
been  more  than  murmurs — are,  to-day.  And  whoso  will,  may 
hear  a  third  voice  even  now,  saying:  "The  victory  is  in  the 
deed." 

Nearly  five  years  after  the  foregoing  was  written  (though 
never  published  till  now)  it  became  my  duty  to  notice  one  of 
Tennyson's  later  works,  in  a  leading  Philadelphia  daily  news- 
paper. I  add  the  notice  here,  alike  as  giving  the  two  voices  of 
the  youth  and  age  of  the  poet,  and  my  own  estimate  of  Tenny- 
son's later  work.  As  usual,  I  am  not  in  touch  with  the  hacks 
who  dabble  with  this  beautiful  genius  of  English  poetry. 

Various  extracts  from  Lord  Tennyson's  new  volume,  "Tire- 
sias  and  Other  Poems,"  have  already  been  published,  and  in 
many  quarters  hasty  comments,  based  on  these  and  other  ex- 
tracts, have  been  made.  The  total  outcome  of  these  comments 
would  be  that  while  in  the  new  volume  Tennyson  has  done  some 
things  quite  equal  to  some  of  the  best  things  done  in  his  earlier 
years,  there  is  nothing  that  especially  lifts  him  beyond  the 
reputation  of  those  years — perhaps  nothing  that  would  make 
an  independent  reputation.  But  only  those  who  have  tried  in 
their  declining  years  to  retain  the  fire  of  youth  and  add  to  this 
the  wisdom  of  experience  know  how  difficult  a  business  that  is. 


«)2  THE  GI.OHE. 

Tennyson  has  done  this  in  the  new  volume  published  by  Mac- 
millan  &  Co.,  London  and  New  York.  Never  in  any  of  his 
earlier  poems  has  he  treated  the  great  social  problem  that  is 
now  bein^  made  the  pet  scheme  of  advanced  novels  with  half 
the  force,  completeness  and  splendor  with  which  it  is  treated 
in  the  third  poem  of  this  book,  called  "The  Wreck,"  beginning: 

"Hide  me,  mother!  my  fathers  belong'd  to  the  church  of  old, 
I  am  driven  by  storm  and  sin  and  death  to  the  ancient  fold, 
I  cling  to  the  Catholic  Cross  once  more,  to  the  Faith  that  saves, 
My  brain  is  full  of  the  crash  of  wrecks  and  the  roar  of  waves. 
My  life  itself  is  a  wreck,  I  have  sullied  a  noble  name, 
lam  flung  from  the  rushing  tide  of  the  world  as  a  waif  of  shame, 
I  am  roused  by  the  wail  of  a  child,  and  awake  to  a  livid  light, 
And  a  gastlier  face  than  ever  has  haunted  a  grave  by  night, 
I  would  hide  from  the  storm  without,  I  would  flee  from  the  storm  within, 
I  would  make  my  life  one  prayer  for  a  soul  that  died  in  his  sin, 
I  was  the  tempter,  mother,  and  mine  is  the  deeper  fall; 
I  will  sit  at  your  feet,  I  will  hide  my  face,  I  will  tell  you  all." 

Then,  with  a  wonderfully  sustained  beauty,  with  infinite  deli- 
casy  and  with  absolute  loyalty  to  nature  and  law,  the  story  of  a 
woman  who  deserted  her  husband  and  child  and  sailed  the  seas 
of  a  supreme  love  till  a  wreck  took  her  lover  away  and  revealed 
her  soul  beneath  and  deeper  than  her  love — splendid  and  min- 
istry-full as  that  had  been — is  told,  till  the  woman  finds  that 
her  deserted  child  died  the  same  night  her  lover  died,  and 
that  word  of  the  child's  death  comes  to  her  addressed  in  her 
maiden  name — no  longer  a  mother  or  wife,  and  the  sudden 
splendor  of  love  faded  into  shame.  In  truth,  the  book  is  a 
sort  of  complementary  completion  of  all  that  was  lacking  in 
Tennyson's  earlier  life  and  works.  Its  pretty  dedication  to 
Robert  Browning,  while  between  the  two  there  was  a  conscious 
or  unconscious  world-recognized  rivalry  for  a  generation,  has 
already  been  noticed.  It  may  be  regarded  as  a  return  for 
Mr.  Browning's  dedication  of  his  own  volume  of  1872 — "To 
Alfred  Tennyson;  in  poetry,  illustrious  and  consummate;  in 
friendship,  noble  and  sincere." 

The  longest  poem  of  the  number,  "Balin  and  Balan,"  is 
meant  for  an  introduction  to  "Merlin  and  Vivien,"  and  there 
is  a  beautiful  short  poem,  written  as  a  preface  for  "My  Broth- 
er's Sonnets:" 


TENXYSOX'S  Tiro  VOICES.  58 

"  Midnight — in  no  midsummer  tune 
The  breakers  lash  the  shores  ; 
The  cuckoo  of  a  joyless  June 
Is  calling  out  of  doors. 

"And  thou  hast  vanish'd  from  thine  own 
To  that  which  looks  like  rest; 
True  brother,  only  to  be  known 
By  those  who  love  thee  best." 

"  The  Dead  Prophet "  is  a  still  stronger  poem,  and  one  of 
the  strongest  Tennyson  has  ever  written: 

"  Dead,  who  had  served  his  time. 
Was  one  of  the  people's  kings; 
Had  labored  in  lifting  them  out  of  slime, 
And  showing  them  souls  have  wings! 

"  Dumb  on  the  winter  heath  he  lay. 
His  friends  had  stripped  him  bare, 
And  rolled  his  nakedness  every  way. 
That  all  the  crowd  might  stare." 

All  of  which  appears  to  have  reference  to  events  that  have 
taken  place  in  the  poet's  own  city  of  London  within  the  last 
few  years.  The  word  to  freedom  is  what  all  the  lesser  poets 
have  been  trying  to  say  about  it  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury and  have  not  fully  succeeded: 

"O  thou  so  fair  in  summers  gone, 

While  yet  thy  fresh  and  virgin  soul 
Inform'd  the  pillar'd  Parthenon, 
The  glittering  capitol; 

"  So  fair  in  Southern  sunshine  bathed, 
But  scarce  of  such  majestic  mien 
As  here  with  forehead  vapor-swathed 
In  meadows  ever  gfeen; 

*  «  4f  *  * 

"How  long  thine  ever  growing  mind 

Hath  still'd  the  blast  and  strewn  the  wave, 
Tho'  some  of  late  would  raise  a  wind 
To  sing  thee  to  thy  grave. 

' '  Men  loud  against  all  forms  of  power — 

Unfurnished  brows,  tempestuous  tongues — 
Expecting  all  things  in  an  hour — 
Brass  mouths  and  iron  lungs." 

So  love  and  passion  in  their  deepest  and  maturcst  utter- 
ances are  traced  with  lightning  clearness.     Religion,  as  incar- 


54  THE  GLOBE 

nate  faith  in  God  and  duty,  is  made  a  theme  of  adoration  and 
a  place  of  rest.  The  social  problem  is  probed  and  heaven's 
eternal  daylight  let  through  it.  Liberty  is  crowned  with  beau- 
tiful song,  and  the  dialect  poems  are  stronger  in  their  several 
lines  than  anything  Tennyson  has  ever  done  before. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


SWINBURNE'S  ROUNDELS. 


Experience  teaches  those  who  have  wit  enough  to  be  taught 
that  the  rarest  and  most  delicate  thoughts  and  emotions  of 
choice  and  refined  natures  are  also  at  times  the  thoughts  and 
experiences  of  ordinary  mankind.  The  test  of  genius  is  that 
it  can  put  these  experiences  into  words  that  are  neither  com- 
monplace, mawkish  nor  sentimental.  Hence  it  is  that  the  words 
of  the  gifted  are,  in  the  long  run,  the  most  popular  words, 
known  and  read  of  all  men.  They  are  what  the  silent,  voice- 
less millions  would  say  ot  their  lives  if  they  could.  This  is  the 
poet's  mission,  to  give  voice  and  echo  to  the  sacredness  of  life, 
to  the  beauties  of  the  world  which  are  too  deep  and  exquisite 
for  utterance  by  common  tongue  or  pen;  to  touch  even  the 
heart  of  the  brute  creation;  to  interpret  the  wind  and  the  sea 
and  the  singing  of  the  birds. 

People  absorbed  in  the  mere  chit-chat  of  the  world's  acci- 
dents and  daily  trade  do  not  remember  what  another  and  real 
world  lives  within  and  about  them  until  some  poet  mirrors  that 
existence  in  the  waters  of  life  with  words  that  are  brighter  than 
the  rays  of  the  sun.  Then  for  a  rare  moment  we  bow  our 
heads  and  dream  very  old  dreams  and  see  visions  that  are  rich- 
er than  sunsets  and  fairer  than  flowers.  Before  any  man  at- 
tempts to  criticise  a  poet  he  should  at  least  have  tried  to  utter 
some  such  grief  or  rapture  as  the  poet  sings.  Let  him  try  to 
write  a  dedication,  for  instance,  of  some  book  to  his  mother,  or 
grandfather  or  a  friend.  Let  him  read  the  nameless  cant  that  us- 
ually finds  its  way  into  the  dedicatory  pages  of  even  superior 
books,  and  then  turn  to  Swinburne's  dedication  lines.  Even 
Shakespeare  was  awkward  at  dedication;  Robert  Browning  fails 
here;  Carlyle  and  Emerson  were  too  wise  to  attempt  it.  But 
here  is  the  way  Swinburne  dedicates  his  Roundels  to  Christina 
G.  Ro-ssetti: 


SWINBURNE'S  ROUNDELS.  55 

"  Songs  light  as  these  may  sound,  though  deep  and  strong, 
The  heart  spake  through  them,  scarce  should  hope  to  please. 
Ears  tuned  to  strains  of  loftier  thoughts  than  throng 
Songs  light  as  these. 

"Yet  grace  may  set  their  sometimes  doubt  at  ease, 
Nor  need  their  too  rash  reverence  fear  to  wrong 
The  shrine  it  serves  at  and  the  hope  it  sees. 

"  For  childlike  loves  and  laughters  thence  prolong, 
Notes  that  bid  enter,  fearless  as  the  breeze, 
Even  to  the  shrine  of  holiest-hearted  song, 
Songs  light  as  these." 

There  really  is  no  need  of  this  self-disparagement,  nor  is 
there  any  reason  to  believe  that  Mr.  Swinburne  is  in  the  slight- 
est degree  oblivious  to  the  deep  and  tender  merits  of  these 
songs.  The  lightness  is  mainly  in  the  form  and  limitations  of 
the  roundel  itself.  It  is  a  much  more  difficult  form  of  compo- 
sition than  the  sonnet,  and  the  art  is  in  not  allowing  the  exact- 
ness and  the  lightness  of  the  measure  to  dwarf  or  limit  the 
thought.  But  few  English  poets  have  attempted  the  roundel. 
The  airy  measure  needs  quick,  tripping  thoughts,  and  such 
complete  mastery  over  the  English  language,  especially  over 
its  apt  uses  of  its  Saxon  monosyllables,  as  none  but  Browning 
and  Swinburne  have  attained  since  the  days  of  Shakespeare. 
In  these  roundels  there  are  more  thoughts  to  the  line  and  less 
circumlocution  than  are  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  the  language, 
except  it  be  in  some  of  Browning's  best  poems.  As  compared 
with  Mr.  Swinburne's  past  work,  the  roundels  are  more  con- 
cise, more  artistic,  clearer  thoughted,  less  sensuous,  less  affect- 
ed, prettier  and  finer  in  every  way;  and  the  book  seems  to  be 
another  illustration  of  the  old  truth,  not  only  that  a  man  must 
have  touched  life  in  all  its  phases,  fallen  in  its  darkness  and 
felt  its  pangs,  but  that  he  must  have  grown  indifferent  to  these 
— that  is,  must  have  sunk  himself  heart  and  soul  out  of  sight 
before  pure  art  will  own  him  as  its  own.  So  Swinburne  has 
found  that  mere  poetic  or  other  toying  with  raven  tresses  is  not 
the  soul  of  life  or  art  or  music;  that  the  eternal  undertones  of 
truth,  its  flashes  and  echoes,  are  the  things  that  endure.  What 
is  a  roundel?     Let  Mr.  Swinburne  reply: 

"A  Roundel  is  wrought  as  a  ring  or  a  star-bright  sphere. 
With  craft  of  delight  and  with  cunning  of  sound  unsought, 
That  the  heart  of  the  hearer  may  smile  if  to  pleasure  his  ear 
A  roundel  is  wrought. 


66  THE  GLOBE. 

"  Its  jewel  of  music  is  carven  of  all  or  of  aught. 
Love,  laughter  or  mournitig — remembrance  of  rapture  or  fear — 
That  fancy  may  fashion  to  hang  in  the  ear  of  thought 

♦'As  a  bird's  quick  song  runs  round,  and  the  hearts  in  us  hear, 
Pause  answer  to  pause,  and  again  the  same  strain  caught. 
So  moves  the  device  whence,  round  as  a  pearl  or  tear, 
A  roundel  is  wrought." 

In  these  roundels  Mr.  Swinburne  confines  himself  rigidly 
to  eleven  lines,  though  the  lines  in  some  poems  are  longer  than 
in  others.  But  he  adheres  to  the  measure  chosen  with  the 
same  exactitude  that  the  stars  move  in  their  courses.  People 
without  an  ear  for.such  music,  people  without  the  requisite  wit 
or  culture  to  appreciate  the  skill  and  genius  required  to  do  such 
work  as  this  and  to  fill  a  volume  with  it,  need  not  quarrel  with 
Swinburne  or  with  those  that  appreciate  him.  There  is  a  very- 
old  law  that  settles  questions  of  taste  as  absolutely  as  death 
ends  all  speculation.  That  a  man  has  the  head,  the  pluck,  the 
patience  to  do  such  work  in  an  age  like  this  marks  him  as  one 
of  the  few  whom  the  fates  have  chosen  to  carry  our  voices  over 
to  the  future.     The  roundels  are  beyond  praise. 

As  a  protest  against  the  verbosity  of  the  age,  as  a  protest 
against  its  mere  dreamy,  indefinite,  meaningless  twaddle  and 
pipings  of  the  stuff  too  often  called  poetry,  and  supremely  as 
a  protest  against  the  clap-trap,  tramp  poetry  of  a  later  school, 
that  is  too  lazy  to  work  its  clumsy  lines  into  any  shape  but  the 
careless  grotesque,  the  roundels  of  Swinburne  deserve  a  sort 
of  worship  mixed  with  the  admiration  they  are  sure  to  win. 
No,  you  cannot  judge  such  a  man  or  his  life  by  any  ordinary 
standards  that  the  average  world  pretends  to  apply  to  its  own 
musings  and  ways.  The  poet  must  be  judged  by  the  blood  that 
is  in  him  and  by  the  songs  he  sings.  Would  we  get  a  glimpse 
of  what  Mr.  Swinburne  at  forty  thinks  of  Mr.  Swinburne  at 
twenty-five  or  thirty,  perhaps  the  following  roundel  will  serve 
a  double  turn: 

"  A  time  is  for  mourning,  a  season  for  grief  to  sigh; 
But  were  we  not  fools  and  blind,  by  day  to  devote  us 
As  thralls  to  the  darkness,  unseen  on  the  sun  dawn's  eye?" 

These  are  not  mere  poems  of  passion,  of  sentiment  or  mere 
showings  of  public  life.  They  are  fine  revelations  of  life's  deep- 
est and  perpetual  subtleties,  struggles,  conquests.     The  range 


SIVIA^BURNE'S  ROUNDELS.  57 

of  subjects  treated  is  altogether  larger  than  in  anything  here- 
tofore attempted  by  Mr.  Swinburne.  As  now  and  then  single 
songs  have  reached  the  ear  of  the  world  we  have  simply  been 
impressed  as  with  something  rare — as  by  one  of  Patti's  songs 
or  the  richest  rosebud  of  the  year.  This  impression  is  intensified 
by  a  perusal  of  the  volume,  and,  besides,  one  gets  the  convic- 
tion that  the  poet  is  reaching  the  full  compass  of  life  and  of 
his  own  mind.     As  illustrating  one  new  departure  in  this  wider 

range  we  may  quote  two  or  three  roundels  on 

« 
A  baby's  death. 

********* 

II. 

The  little  feet  that  never  trod 

Earth,  never  strayed  in  the  field  or  street, 

What  hand  leads  upward  back  to  God 

The  little  feet  ? 

A  rose  in  June's  most  honied  heat, 
When  life  makes  keen  the  kindling  sod, 
Was  not  so  soft  and  warm  and  sweet. 

Their  pilgrimage's  period 
A  few  swift  moons  have  seen  complete 
Since  mother  s  hands  first  clasped  and  shod 
The  little  feet. 

III. 
The  little  hands  that  never  sought 
Earth's  prizes,  worthless  all  as  sands, 
What  gift  has  death,  God's  servant,  brought 
The  little  hands  ? 

We  ask;  but  love's  self  silent  stands. 
Love,  that  lends  eyes  and  wings  to  thought 
To  search  where  death's  dim  heaven  expands. 

Ere  this,  perchance,  though  love  know  naught, 
Flowers  fill  them,  grown  in  lovelier  lands, 
Where  hands  of  guiding  angels  caught 
The  little  haods. 

IV. 

The  little  eyes  that  never  knew 
Light  other  than  of  dawning  skies, 
What  new  life  now  lights  up  anew 
The  little  eyes  ? 

Who  knows  but  on  their  sleep  may  rise 
Such  light  as  never  heaven  let  through 
To  lighten  earth  from  Paradise  ? 


58  THE  GLOBE. 

No  storm,  we  know,  may  change  the  blue, 
Soft  heaven  that  baply  death  descries ; 
No  tears,  like  these  in  ours,  bedew 
The  little  eyes. 

There  is  in  this  something  of  the  faith  and  the  simplicity  of 
Wordsworth,  but  the  softest  breathings  are  firm  as  steel.  One 
need  not  bother  about  what  Swinburne  "  believes,"  as  we  say- 
in  the  ordinary  parlance  of  men.  What  he  has  written  he  has 
written,  as  Pilate  said  once  on  a  time,  and  lines  so  writ  remain 
forever.  No  modern  poet,  except  Richard  Realf,  has  touched 
these  sacred  shadings  of  the  inner,  hidden,  highest  life  of  man 
with  half  the  skill  and  clearness  that  Swinburne's  Roundels  re- 
veal. If  this  praise  seems  fulsome,  read  them  for  a  hundred 
years,  then  come  back  and  read  them  again.  But  here,  with  a 
pearl  from  the  ocean,  we  will  leave  the  Roundels  to  win  their 
own  way : 

AT    SEA. 

"  Farewell  and  adieu  !"  was  the  burden  prevailing 
Long  since  in  the  chant  of  a  home-faring  crew  ; 
And  the  heart  in  us  echoes,  with  laughing  or  wailing, — 
Farewell  and  adieu ! 

Each  year  that  we  live  shall  we  sing  it  anew, 
With  a  water  untraveled  before  us  for  sailing 
And  a  water  behind  us  that  wrecks  may  bestrew. 

The  stars  of  the  past  and  the  beacons  are  failing, 
The  heavens  and  the  waters  are  hoarier  of  hue. 
But  the  heart  in  us  chants,  not  all  unavailing, — 
Farewell  and  adieu  ! 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


LOVE'S  MEETING. 


And  what  if  I  should  meet  thee  some  bright  day. 

As  once  before,  beside  the  sunlit  sea, 

When,  as  by  magic,  thou  didst  sit  by  me, 

And  every  wave  and  pulse-beat  seemed  to  say 

That  never — since  in  Eden  Eve  did  play 

With  her  fair  lord,  and  on  the  flowery  lea 

Did  lose  her  heart — came  to  mortals  such  free 

Bounding  of  the  waves  of  love:— Dear  !  I  pray, 

That  should  we  meet  again,  or  near  or  far, 

On  this  dear  earth,  while  yet  the  flowers  bloom, 

Or  in  the  spaces  past  the  farthest  star, 

That  thou  wouldst  stay  by  me,  and  end  the  gloom 

Of  my  thrice-bless'd  but  lonely,  broken  life, 

And  be  my  own,  in  peace,  that  ends  all  strife. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


WHAT  OF  OUR  WHITE  SLAVES? 


White  Slaves,  or  the  Oppression  of  the  Worthy  Poor.  By 
Rev.  Louis  Albert  Banks,  D.D.  Boston:  Lee  &  Shep- 
ard.  Publishers,  1892. 

As  I  was  on  my  way  from  Boston  to  New  York,  via  the  Fall 
River  Line,  early  in  November,  1891,  just  as  the  above-named 
volume  was  fresh  from  the  press,  I  met  a  gentleman  from  Phil- 
adelphia, whom  I  had  known  for  many  years,  and  who  for  a 
generation  has  been  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  largest  manufac- 
turing establishments  in  Philadelphia — an  establishment  where 
hundreds  of  girls  and  young  women  are  constantly  employed. 
I  had  already  marked  several  passages  in  Mr.  Bank's  book, 
which  I  had  resolved  to  review,  and,  knowing  the  business  po- 
sition of  my  friend,  and  likewise  having  the  utmost  confidence 
in  his  sincerity  and  his  humanity,  I  called  his  attention  to  the 


60  THE  Cf.OH/:. 

book  and  especially  to  thg  passages  I  had  marked  ;  then  left 
him  alone  with  the  "White  Slaves"  and  took  a  stroll  through 
the  cabins.  On  my  return  I  said,  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
it?"  He  replied.  "  Mr.  Thorne,  those  statements  are  not  true.^' 
But  I  said,  "Mr.  Banks  has  made  personal  investigations,  has 
proclaimed  the  statements  as  facts  from  his  pulpit,  and  now 
publishes  them  in  book  form;  it  seems  to  me  they  must  be 
true."  Still  my  friend  asserted  that  the  statements  could  not 
be  true,  and  went  on  to  show  that  such  things  could  not  be 
tolerated  in  a  civilized  age,  and  so  he  continued  to  believe  the 
average  employer  was  as  guileless  and  innocent  as  himself. 

It  was  a  happy  instance  of  the  faith  of  one  good  man  in  the 
goodness  of  a  great  many  bad  men  and  women,  toward  whom 
one  does  not  like  to  apply  so  harsh  a  term.  I  think  I  remind- 
ed my  friend  of  a  certain  elopement  that  took  place,  less  than 
twenty  years  ago,  between  the  foreman  of  one  of  his  own  de- 
partments, a  married  man,  and  a  certain  good-looking  girl  in  the 
establishment.  I  could  have  proved  to  him  that  his  own  establish 
ment  had  often  been  made  a  place  of  assignation;  that  lots  of 
his  young  men  helped  his  young  women  to  eke  out  their  meagre 
salaries,  and  did  not  take  notes  at  sixty  or  ninety  days  in  re- 
turn for  their  favors.  I  did  tell  him  of  an  instance  where  a  cer- 
tain young  lady  of  my  acquaintance  went  to  one  of  the  largest 
retail  stores  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  and,  on  asking  the 
"forelady  of  the  art  department  for  employment,  was  offered 
a  position  at  S4.5oa  week,  and  who,  on  assuring  the  "  forelady" 
that  she  could  not  live  on  that,  was  asked  plainly  by  the  fore- 
lady, "  Have  you  no  gentleman  friend  to  help  you  ?" 

In  truth,  the  man  who  lives  in  these  days  without  knowing 
that  our  large  manufacturing  establishments,  where  j'oung  men 
and  young  women  are  promiscuously  employed,  and  our  large 
and  small  retail  stores,  where  a  like  arrangement  prevails,  are 
constantly  made  places  of  assignation,  where  girls  lose  their 
honor  and  men  waste  their  money  in  courses  of  shame,  is  eith- 
er so  willfully  or  innocently  blind  that  he  ought  to  be  sent  up 
higher  or  down  lower  without  needless  delay.  I  would  except 
my  friend  always. 

As  to  the  kind  of  "sweating"  establishments  complained  of 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Banks,  they  have  been  shown  up  by  specialists 
in  our  great  daily  newspapers,  in  Boston,  New  York  and  Phila- 


WHAT  OF  OUR  J  I' ///'/•/■:  sr..n7-:s  ?  61 

delphia,  time  and  again  during  the  last  fifteen  years.  But  they 
seem  to  be  very  much  like  exposed  mediums—  the  more  you 
expose  them,  the  more  the  rascals  and  the  strumpets  thrive. 
The  difference  between  Mr.  Bank's  exposure  of  the  sweaters 
and  the  princely  merchants  of  assignation  and  the  exposures 
of  the  newspapers  is  that  Mr.  Banks  appears  to  be  in  earnest, 
aroused  by  a  sense  of  offended  justice  and  moral  indignation; 
has  Christ  and  Christianity  back  of  him,  and  means  good  for 
humanity;  while  the  newspaper  accounts  are  supposed  to  be 
gotten  up  as  the  latest  sensations  of  the  hour.     "* 

At  all  events,  Mr.  Banks  and  the  Boston  publishing  house 
that  undertook  to  bring  his  book  before  the  world  are  to  be 
congratulated  alike  on  their  courage  and  on  their  success.  For, 
at  this  writing,  March  lo,  1892,  it  is  plain  to  observing  eyes 
that  the  book  in  question  has  had  not  a  little  to  do  with  inspir- 
ing recent  movements  set  on  foot  for  the  bettering  of  the 
worthy  poor  of  Boston  by  the  new  Bishop  of  Boston,  and  it 
will  hardly  be  doubted  that  Mr.  Banks'  sermons  and  his  book 
have  had  great  influence  in  forcing  congress  to  take  the  steps 
recently  taken  relative  to  investigating  the  sweating  establish- 
ments. I  am  not  here  saying  that  these  mushroom  efforts  of 
the  new  Bishop  of  Boston,  or  these  immaculate  committees  of 
investigation  movements  set  on  foot  by  the  American  Con- 
gress, will  have  any  lasting  effects  for  good.  I  was  not  born 
yesterday.  I  have  seen  the  devil  in  many  shapes  these  last 
forty  years,  and  he  is  not  downed  by  such  weapons.  Still  every 
man  must  work  in  his  own  way  and  live  up  to  the  light  or  the 
darkness  that  is  in  him. 

Among  other  things,  Mr.  Banks  charges  that  women  are  em- 
ployed in  Boston  to  "  make  'pants'  at  ten  cents  a  pair,"  "  knee 
pants"  at  sixteen  to  eighteen  cents  a  dozen  pair,  others  at 
twelve  cents  a  pair,  fine  cloth  pants  at  thirteen  cents  a  pair; 
that  Italian  women  are  employed  to  make  United  States  postal 
uniform  "pants"  at  '' nine  and  a  half  cents  a  pair ;"  and  being  a 
Methodist,  with  excellent  ability  of  enlarging  upon  these  dam- 
nable facts,  and  appealing  to  people's  sympathies,  Mr,  Banks 
found  it  easy  to  show  his  hearers  and  his  readers  how  women, 
trying  to  support  themselves  and  sometimes  their  children  on 
'such  wages,  are  constantly  driven  to  despair  and  often  to  the 
devil  and  to  death;  and  all  this  not  in  isolated  cases,  but  as  a 


e2  THE  GLOBE. 

daily  and  general  rule  in  pious,  benevolent,  humane,  progress- 
ive, humanitarian  and  almost  celestial  and  advanced,  cultured 
Boston  in  these  very  days. 

Going  from  the  sweaters  to  another  form  of  Boston  advance- 
ment, Mr.  Banks  gives  facts  to  show  that  good-looking,  attrac- 
tive young  girls,  seeking  employment  in  Boston,  are  regularly 
approached  by  merchants  employing  such  girls,  with  propo- 
sitions looking  to  any  reasonable  remuneration,  provided  only 
the  young  girls  will  hold  their  honor  at  the  disposal  of  their 
employers;  that  is,  accept  them  or  their  "gentlemen  friends." 

Going  to  still  another  phase  of  modern  Christian,  that  is, 
liberal  and  advanced  Christian  solicitude  for  the  poor,  Mr. 
Banks  goes  on  to  show  what  corruption  takes  the  place  of  true 
charity  in  the  provisions  made  for  the  food  and  comfort  of  the 
inmates  of  certain  poor-houses.  In  a  word,  the  book  is  a  fear- 
ful arraingment  of  the  Boston  civilization  of  "our  day." 

To  a  man  who  has  been  hammering  at  this  straw-stuffed 
scarecrow,  called  "Boston  culture,"  as  I  have  been  hammering 
at  it  in  The  Globe  and  elsewhere  these  many  years,  Mr.  Banks' 
revelations,  right  out  of  the  heart  of  the  hell  itself,  come  as  to 
one  who  says,  "  I  told  you  so!" 

The  Globe,  however,  wants  to  be  fair,  not  only  to  Mr.  Banks 
and  his  publishers,  butto  such  leading  business  men  as  have  been 
brought  under  the  lash  of  suspicion  by  Mr.  Banks'  exposures. 
In  truth.  The  Geobe  means  to  be  fair  toward  and  to  speak  the 
simple  and  charitable  truth  to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
and  women  everywhere.  It  is  not  fair  to  hold  employers  of 
large  numbers  of  men  and  women  responsible  for  the  conduct 
and  relations  of  all  those  men  and  women.  A  great  many 
things  go  on  in  every  large  and  small  establishment  that  the 
proper  heads  of  the  establishment  are  not  cognizant  of  and  are 
not  to  be  blamed  for.  And  leading  and  prominent  men  in  all 
professions  often  do  things  that  are  not  common  to  their  class 
of  men,  and  for  which  the  class  ought  not  to  be  suspected. 

Very  many  preachers  take  advantage  of  their  intimate  and 
superior  position  in  the  family  circles  of  their  flocks  to  the 
mortal  injury,  not  only  of  the  lambs,  but  to  the  sheep  of  the 
flock ;  nevertheless  it  would  be  very  unfair  to  write  a  book  which 
implied  that  this  sin  was  common  to  the  profession. 

Very  many  physicians  abuse  the  close  relations  into  which 


WHAT  OF  OUR  WHITE  SLAVES?  63 

they  are  called  among  the  families  of  their  patients  to  the  bodi- 
ly, mental,  moral  and  spiritual  ruin  of  members  of  those  fami- 
lies; and  it  is  said  that  this  crime  and  criminal  habit  of  the  doc- 
tors is  increasing  fearfully  in  our  times;  but  it  would  be  crimi- 
nally unjust  to  this  noble  profession  to  write  a  book  which 
would  imply  that  the  doctors,  in  general,  were  conscienceless 
scoundrels. 

If  the  Rev.  Dr.  Banks  were  to  make  a  specialist's  investiga- 
tion of  the  movements  of  all  the  people  that  attend  his 
church,  or  of  all  the  carryings-on  of  the  boys  and  girls  who  at- 
tend his  Sunday-school,  he  would  probably  find  that  his  church 
and  Sunday-school  were  often  made  places  of  ruinous  assigna- 
tion; and  the  wrong  in  all  this  is  not  to  be  charged  to  the  place 
of  business,  or  to  the  clerical  or  the  medical  profession,  much 
less  to  the  church  or  the  Sunday-school,  but  to  that  vile,  un- 
spiritual.  unfilial,  fast,  unscrupulous,  hardened,  brazen  method 
and  manner  of  life  so  much  affected  by  all  classes  and  ages  of 
men  and  women  and  children  in  our  day,  and  for  which  Prot- 
estant preachers  and  strong-minded  reform  women,  and  pray- 
ing and  lying  and  srealing  deacons,  and  the  devil  and  his 
angels,  generally,  are  to  blame,  and  yet  are,  apparently,  all  un- 
conscious of  their  blame  in  our  mammonite  gospel  day. 

There  are  things  also  to  be  said  that  in  some  measure 
excuse  the  sweating  system  of  which,  and  of  some  of  its 
results,  Mr.   Banks   so   justly   and   so   eloquently   complains. 

.The  sweating  system  which  leads  to  the  starvation  and  ruin  of 
^o  many  women  and  children  in  our  leading  cities — for,  of 
course,  Boston  is  not  any  worse  than  the  rest — is  the 
universal  system  of  our  American  civilization.  For  the  build- 
ing of  our  ships  of  war,  for  the  building  of  our  State-houses, 
for  the  building  of  our  own  private  houses,  we  give,  or  profess 
to  give,  the  work  to  the  lowest  "responsible"  bidder;  and  the 
whole  system,  in  every  contract  made  with  the  government  as 

■  with  individuals,  proves  that  we  have  fallen  on  times  wherein 
no  man  can  trust  his  fellow-man,  and  in  every  instance  of  such 
work  there  arc  corruptions  and  wrongs  done,  alike  to  the  rich 
and  the  "worthy"  poor,  that  are  as  iniquitous  in  their  way  as 
the  worst  wrongs  complained  of  in  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bank's  elo- 
quent appeals.  Yet  if  the  trustees  of  Mr.  Bank's  church  were 
about  to  build  a  church  tor  their  able  minister,  or  even  to 


64  THE  GLOBE. 

build  a  fence  around  the  temple,  they  would  let  out  the  work 
to  the  lowest  bidder;  and  said  lowest  bidder  would,  a  thous- 
and to  one,  cheat  the  trustees,  stain  his  own  soul,  by  lying  to 
the  Holy  Ghost — putting  in  hemlock  for  pine — and  also  cheat 
his  own  "  worthy  poor  workmen,"  by  screwing  them  down  to 
the  lowest  possible  wages. 

The  wrong  is  not  in  the  Jew  sweater — the  wrong  is  in  the 
corrupt,  the  selfish  and  the  accursed  civilization  of  our  times; 
and  the  only  hope  for  relief,  and  the  only  way  out,  is  not  to 
scrub  at  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter;  not  to  appeal  to 
committees  of  Congress — that  is,  to  set  a  rogue  to  catch  a 
rascal  and  compound  his  crime— not  in  building  here  and 
there  better  houses  for  the  "worthy  poor,"  but  in  isetting  our- 
selves an  example  of  lives  not  given  to  rascally  greed  of  gain, 
and  in  setting,  ourselves,  examples  of  lives  devoted  to  truth 
and  justice,  and  tenderness  and  kindness,  and  in  trying  to 
persuade  men  that  it  is  not  Bunker  Hill,  or  William  Penn,  or 
Chauncey  Depew,  or  modern  culture,  but  the  Cross  of  Jesus 
Christ,  applied  to  modern  times,  that  is  to  save  us  from  the 
hells  we  all  most  richly  deserve. 

On  page  164  of  his  book  Mr.  Banks  says,  in  speaking  of 
some  of  the  homes  of  the  "worthy  poor:"  "On  some  of  the 
walls  of  these  living  rooms  the  cockroaches  and  bed-bugs 
swarm  in  abundance,  literally  by  hundreds,"  etc.,  and,  of 
course,  the  owners  of  these  tenements  and  the  Board  of 
Health  of  Boston  are  tacitly  held  responsible.  God  forbic^ 
that  I  should  detract  one  iota  from  the  true  power  of  Mr. 
Bank's  work,  or  palliate  or  mollify  the  real  blame  attaching  to 
the  men  or  women — and  often  enough  they  are  women — who 
rent  mere  rat-holes  of  houses  to  the  worthy  poor,  and  expect 
said  poor  to  turn  them  into  homes;  nor  would  I  lessen  to  a 
hair's-breadth  the  culpability  of  those  men  who  are  hired  by 
the  cities  to  look  after  the  health  of  the  people,  and  who  draw 
their  pay  and  neglect  their  duty;  but  it  is  hardly  fair  to  hold 
owners  of  houses  or  the  Board  of  Health  responsible  for  the 
cockroaches  and  bed-bugs. 

Cleanliness  is  not  only  next  to  Godliness,  but  is  far  supe- 
rior to  most  species  of  Godliness  I  have  been  permitted  to 
encounter  in  a  wide  experience  of  over  fifty  years.  Cleanli- 
ness and  tidiness  are  not  the  rule  in  modern  American  well- 


WHAT  OF  OUR  WHITE  SLAVES?  65 

to-do  houses.  Slovenliness  and  incompetency  are  the  rule, 
from  kitchen  to  garret,  in  at  least  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  city 
homes  of  our  better  classes,  not  to  speak  at  all  of  our  worthy 
poor.  It  is  one  of  the  reacting  crimes  and  evils  of  mannish- 
ness,  independent,  termagant,  screaming  loudness  of  our 
modern  "women's  rights"  movement,  "so  called,"  that  a 
good  housekeeper  or  homekeeper  is  as  scarce  as  a  good  ser- 
vant in  these  advanced  days. 

I  have  seen  houses  and  rooms  that  were  the  homes  of  our 
"worthy  poor,"  who  earned  no  higher  wages  than  those  de- 
scribed by  Mr.  Banks,  which  houses  and  rooms  were,  never- 
theless, kept  so  sweet  and  clean,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  that, 
though  I  am  somewhat  fastidious,  I  would  have  eaten  off  the 
floors  of  these  rooms  and  houses.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have 
seen  the  houses — the  so-called  homes  of  professional  and 
refined  gentlemen — houses  carpeted  from  lower  to  upper 
floors  with  Brussels  carpet,  and  furnished  with  furniture  by  no 
means  old — I  have  seen  such  homes  swarming  with  as  many 
black  and  brown  cockroaches  and  bed-bugs  as  Mr.  Banks  saw 
in  his  worst  tenements  in  Boston,  and  that,  too,  where  the 
mistress  of  the  houses  had  fairly  good  health,  and  lusty  daugh- 
ters to  help  them  keep  things  clean. 

In  truth,  cleanliness,  like  truthfulness,  is  either  born  in  the 
blood,  or  taught  with  more  pains  than  our  modern  normal  or 
other  school  teachers  are  willing  to  give  to  the  subject. 

On  page  312  Mr.  Banks  says:  "If  some  of  these  money 
kings,  who  have  made  their  millions  by  the  oppression  of  the 
poor,  in  mines,  and  mills,  and  factories,  were  suddenly  called 
to  face  the  bones  of  the  dead  who  have  gone  to  their  graves 
from  weary,  unrequited  slavery,  in  order  for  their  financial 
triumph,  they  would  stand  back  aghast  at  the  price  of  their 
own  success."  And  I  call  this  excellent  nineteenth-century 
gospel  preaching.  But  Mr.  Banks  mistakes  the  timber  in  his 
money  kings.  Instead  of  standing  back  aghast  they  would 
put  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  contentedly  smoke  their 
imported  cigars — made  doubly  dear  by  tariff  robbery — and 
say,  "  Poor  devils,  what  would  have  become  of  them  if  we  had 
not  given  them  employment!"  And  there  is  some  philosophy 
in  that  position.  In  a  word,  as  I  have  said:  Wanamakerism, 
though  bad  enough,  is  not  at  all  bad,  and  the  way  to  help  such 


66  THE  GLOBE. 

men  is  to  live  lives  so  opposite  to  their  own  that  the  rascals 
may,  perchance,  be  conquered  by  admiration  of  your  Christ- 
like heroism.  As  for  scaring  them  or  appealing  to  their  sym- 
pathy, you  may  as  well  try  to  scare  the  devil  himself  or  to 
appeal  to  his  sympathy.  Why  perdition  and  its  master  feed 
on  human  wrecks;  and  these  money  kings — the  legitirpate 
children  of  perdition — why  should  they  not  likewise  gloat 
over  the  wrecks  that  their  lusts  and  their  greed  of  gain  have 
destroyed  ? 

What  Boston  needs  is  repentance  for  a  million  sins.  But 
it  must  first  learn  that  it  has  sinned.  No  Boston  man  believes 
this.  Go  on,  Mr.  Banks,  and  God  bless  you !  By-and-by  even 
Bishop  Brooks  may  learn  a  thing  or  two  from  you  that  his 
beautiful  humanitarianism  has  hid  from  his  eyes. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


THE  SPIRITUALIZATION  OF  THOUGHT.  ETC. 


In  our  day  there  is  among  utter  Philistines  a  cant  of  relig- 
ion that  is  more  shallow,  damnable  and  disgusting  than  all  the 
barefaced  atheism  of  Thomas  Paine  and  Robert  Ingersoll  com- 
bined. For  aught  I  know,  priests  and  ministers  of  the  gospel 
may  be  charging  me  and  The  Globe  with  this  very  thing.  But 
to  his  own  master  every  man  standeth  or  falleth.  I  know  whom 
I  have  believed,  and  why  I  am  preaching  in  these  pages  the 
gospel  of  eternal  truth.  This  opening  was  suggested  by  read- 
ing the  following  mawkish,  pious  and  utterly  shallow,  false  and 
accursed  paragraph  from  the  new  "Editor's  Study"  in  Harper's 
Magazine.  I  give  the  utterance — head,  name  and  all — as  I 
found  it  in  a  Philadelphia  newspaper.  It  is  plainly  a  puff. 
"  And  to  him  that  hath  is  always  given." 

Charles  Dudley  Warner  in  Harper^ s  for  April. 

Mr.  Howells  has  not  only  thought  himself,  but  he  has  forced 
his  readers  to  think,  of  the  relation  of  literature  to  life,  of  its 
seriousness  as  an  occupation,  of  the  moral  element  that  cannot 
be  counterfeited  and  mawkish  sentimentality.  From  his  pulpit 
he  has  truly  been  a  preacher  of  the  spiritual  of  thought,  in 
words  that  must  have  gone  hard  sometimes  with  the  "naturist" 
he  happened  to  be  praising.  It  is  not  necessarily  the  test  of 
one's  service  to  his  age  that  his  sentiments  have  been  agreed 


THE  SPIRITUALIZATION  OF  THOUGHT,  ETC.  67 

with.  To  win  that  honor  one  would  only  need  to  ascertain  the 
prevailing  sentiment  and  utter  it.  Mr,  Howells  has  sought  the 
truth  as  it  appeared  to  him.  His  successor  would  like  simply 
to  say  to  him,  as  his  hand  is  on  the  door,  that  deep  affection 
goes  out  to  him  for  his  sweet  spirit  and  sincerity,  and  profound 
admiration  for  the  charm,  the  grace,  the  exquisite  literary  art 
that  nowhere  else  in  these  days,  in  our  tongue,  has  been  so 
marked  and  sustained  as  in  his  study. 

This  stuff  is  so  false  to  the  facts  alike  of  Mr  Howells'  work 
and  to  all  religious  and  literary  history  that  it  is  nothing  short 
of  an  infernal  shame  to  find  a  man  so  ignorant  of  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  "  spiritualization  of  thought "  and  of  comparative 
literary  art,  in  such  a  responsible  position  as  is  held  by  a  writer 
of  one  of  the  literary  departments  of  Harper's  Magazine. 

For  over  thirty  years  I  have  held  Harper's  Magazine  as  one 
of  the  best  family  magazines  published  in  the  English  language. 
I  refer,  of  course,  not  to  its  editorial  departments,  but  to  the 
general  judgment  shown  in  providing  sound  and  sensible  read- 
ing in  its  reading  pages.  In  the  editorial  department  Mr.  Curtis 
has  very  often  said  things  that  were  truly  literary  in  spirit,  sound 
in  sense,  and  excellent  for  their  own  inherent  teaching.  But 
after  Mr.  Howells  entered  the  editorial  department  of  Harper's 
there  was  a  lamentable  decline,  alike  in  pow:er,  good  taste  and 
general  workmanship.  Mr.  Howells  is  less  capable  as  an  edi- 
torial writer  or  critic  than  he  is  as  a  s^tory-teller,  and  he  is  a  very 
poor  story-teller — a  slovenly,  careless,  and  altogether  a  make- 
shift sort  of  literary  man.  And  it  is  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of 
our  age  that  it  has  taken  up  such  a  poor  hack  and  made  a  pet 
of  him. 

As  for  "the  spiritualization  of  thought,"  the  expression  it- 
self— so  far  as  it  has  any  meaning  in  these  days — is  so  pro- 
found and  wrapped  in  such  profound  mystery  and  sorrow  and 
death,  that  it  is  simple  blasphemy  and  sacrilege  for  such  chaps 
as  W.  D.  Howells  and  C.  D.  Warner  to  take  the  phrase  upon 
their  Philistine  and  uncultured  and  unconsecrated  lips,  or  to 
profane  the  pages  of  an  excellent  magazine  with  such  nonsensi- 
cal and  contemptible  hypocrisy.  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  I 
am  using  very  strong  language;  but  this  thing  of  calling  the 
devil  a  saint,  and  every  dog-hole  of  a  literary  corner  a  pulpit, 
and  putting  such  blatherskite,  mammonite  apes  as  a  Carnegie 
into  real  pulpits,  has  gone  so  far  in  these  days  that  some- 


68  THE  GLOBE. 

body  must  call  the  devil' by  his  own  name  and  be  done  with  it. 

With  the  exception  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  George  Wil- 
liam Curtis  was  the  most  gifted  of  that  little  band  of  old-time 
Brook  Farm  literary  young  lights  wfio  undertook  "the  spirit- 
ualization"  of  American  thought  by  means  of  dung-forks  and 
onion  planting — long,  long  ago.  As  time  went  on  the  young 
men  drifted  into  various  positions,  more  to  their  taste  and 
muscle.  Mr.  Curtis  found  one  of  the  most  enviable  positions 
held  by  any  American  writer  during  the  last  generation.  And 
he  has  done  excellent  hack-work  in  that  position;  as  good 
work  as  any  mere  moralist  could  do  as  the  hireling  of  a  great 
publishing  house,  whose  first  business  always  was  to  make 
money.  And  I  believe  that,  in  addition  to  his  writing  for  the 
Harper  periodicals,  Mr.  Curtis  has,  at  times,  if  not  regularly, 
presided  as  a  sort  of  pious.  Unitarian  secular  philosophical 
priest,  or  parson,  at  the  liberal  Christian  chapel,  near  his  resi- 
dence, on  Long  Island;  so  that,  every  way,  his  opportunity  for 
"  the  spiritualization  of  thought "  has  been  unusual  and  tre- 
mendous; but  I  here  assert,  and  I  am  willing  to  hold  my  life 
subject  to  proof  of  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  that  the  poorest, 
the  most  ignorant,  that  is,  the  least  scholarly  and  gifted  parish 
priest,  occupying  the  least  wealthy,  the  most  benighted,  ignor- 
ant and  least  important  parish  in  the  whole  State  of  New  York, 
these  last  thirty  years,  has  done  incalculably,  infinitely  more 
toward  "  the  spiritualization  of  modern  thought"  than -has  been 
done  in  the  same  period  by  Curtis  and  Howells  and  Warner 
combined. 

The  truth  is,  there  was  something  radically  wrong  with  the 
old  New  England  barnyard  breed,  from  which  came  the  eggs 
out  of  which  the  Curtises  and  Longfellows  and  Warners  were 
hatched;  and  the  Howells,  the  younger  Hawthorne,  the  Faw- 
cetts  and  the  like — who  laugh  at  the  "New  England  con- 
science," and  make  sport  of  the  "grace  of  God" — are  a  God- 
forsaken, unspiritual,  and  hence  unspiritualizing  set.  The  old 
roosters  had  grown  to  strut  and  crow  beyond  their  true  qual- 
ity before  Curtis  was  born,  and  the  old  hens  had  lost  the  vital- 
ity of  true  motherhood  in  their  attempts  to  out-argue  the  par- 
sons and  to  get  to  heaven  their  own  way.  And  you  cannot  find 
a  genuine  New  England  woman  to-day  but  thinks  she  knows 
more  about  religion  than  any  parson,  priest  or  pope  in  Christ- 


THE  SPIRITUAUZATION  OF  THOUGHT,  ETC.  69 

cndom.  In  choosing  their  editors,  the  Harpers,  being  men  of 
the  world,  arc  not  supposed  to  know  these  things;  but  the  gods 
are  not  asleep,  even  in  New  .England  history,  and  in  due  time 
they  will  show,  and  I  will  show,  that  the  very  things  our  mod- 
ern New  England  men  despise,  or  affect  to  despise,  in  the  old 
New  England  history  were  the  only  things  worth  remembering 
in  that  history.  And  again,  I  say,  the  breed  had  become  speck- 
led and  crossed.  There  was  hardly  a  clear,  solid-color  feather 
in  all  the  barn- yards  when  the  Brook  Farm  broods  began  to 
pick  for  themselves. 

Curtis  began  wrong,  Longfellow  began  wrong  as  regards 
those  divine  forces  in  history  that  spiritualize  and  redeem 
thought  or  life.  Curtis,  in  his  "  Potiphar  Papers,"  made  his 
best  points  by  ridiculing  a  cream-cheese,  or  soft-soap,  worldly 
clergyman;  Longfellow  made  one  of  his  earliest  strong  points 
by  picturing  the  parson  as  leering  at  his  neighbor's  wife,  from 
the  vantage  point  of  the  pulpit.  These  are  floating  chips  which 
show  the  flow  of  the  stream.  Both  were  appeals  to  the  carnal 
and  worst  elements  in  human  nature.  I  am  not  saying  there 
were  no  such  clergymen  as  those  caricatured.  I  have  already 
said  that  the  entire  breed  had  got  off-color;  but  even  in  New 
England,  where  there  have  been  more  worldly  clergymen  in 
the  last  two  hundred  years  than  there  were  in  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  in  all  the  world  in  the  sixteen  previous  cen- 
turies, there  were,  in  Curtis'  youth,  have  been  ever  since,  and 
are  to-day,  hundreds  of  even  Protestant  preachers,  not  to  speak 
of  the  more  truly  ordained  and  consecrated  priests,  who  carry 
around  in  their  vest-pockets,  and  in  their  quiet  and  modest 
hearts,  more  spiritualizing  power  in  one  year,  and  expend  it 
gladly  out  of  their  poverty  wherever  needed,  than  the  entire 
Curtis  and  Longfellow  and  Howells  and  Warner  brood  have 
ever  dreamed  of  in  all  their  ea.sy-going  and  well-paid  and  pad- 
ded lives. 

For  my  own  part,  although  I  have  lived  in  the  United  States 
for  nearly  forty  years,  and  have  been  a  law-abiding  citizen  of 
this  country  for  nearly  thirty  years,  I  was  brought  up  in  a  lit- 
tle Somersetshire  English  village,  miles  removed  from  any  rail- 
road, minus  telegraphs  and  telephones,  without  a  public  school; 
yet,  I  am  ready  to  take  my  oath  at  this  hour,  that  the  curate  of 
the  village  church — an  Irishman — the  men  and  women  whose 


70  THE  GLOBE. 

day-schools  I  attended,  and  the  men  and  women  teachers  in  the 
Sunday-school,  in  which  I  went  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest 
class  before  I  was  fifteen  years  gld,  were  a  more  thoroughly 
cultured,  and  by  a  million  diameters,  a  more  spiritual  and  spirit- 
ualizing company  of  people  than  gods  and  men  and  angels, 
with  all  the  Diogenes  lanterns  and  modern  electric  lights  and 
detective  agencies  to  aid  them,  can  find  in  Mr.  Curtis'  Brighton 
chapel,  or  in  Mr.  M.  J.  Savage's  Boston  church  at  this  late  day 
and  hour  of  New  England  culture  gone  to  screaming  its  own 
spiritual  asininity  all  over  the  world. 

In  order  to  spiritualize  thought  a  man  must  himself  be  spir- 
itual. And  in  order  to  be  spiritual  he  must  have  the  gift  of 
the  grace  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus — must  have  taken  up  his  cross 
of  truth  and  consecration,  and  have  followed  it  with  the  silent 
heroism  of  the  Saviour,  until  he  holds  it  dearer  than  "Easy 
Chairs  "  or  "  Study-Windows  " — must,  in  fact,  have  given  his 
life  to  pure  spiritual  truth  and  duty  in  God  and  in  His  Son.  To 
pretend  that  Curtis,  Howells,  Warren  &  Co.  have  done  this,  is 
simply  ignorant,  unblushing  impudence. 

The  word  Mr.  Warner  should  have  used  is  the  word  I  have 
used  in  these  later  paragraphs.  What  he  meant  was  the  spirit- 
ualizing of  modern  thought.  But  a  small  man  always  uses  the 
biggest  word  he  can  find  to  express  the  usually  dim  and  unde- 
fined hallucinations  he  has  in  what  he  calls  his  thought  or  his 
mind.  But  it  is  all  the  same  to  such  people.  They  understand 
an  easy  chair  or  a  seance,  but ! —  Yes ! —  but ! — 

Mr.  Curtis,  Mr.  Howells  and  Mr.  Warner  are  all  honorable 
men  in  their  way.  I  would  not  slander  them  or  libel  them  for 
the  world.  They  are  excellent  American  gentlemen,  of  a  type 
quite  familiar  in  thousands  of  younger  men  in  recent  days.' 
They  are  ajl  going  straight  to  their  own  heaven  by  the  limited 
express,  in  easy  chairs,  cigars  and  wine  included  in  the  origin- 
al fare,  and  when  they  get  there,  they  will  find  thousands  of 
their  own  real  quality;  but,  as  for  the  "  spiritualization"  busi- 
ness, unless  I  have  given  nearly  forty  years  to  the  study  of  that 
in  vain,  these  gentlemen  will  find  it  necessary  to  begin  afresh, 
take  the  A-B-C  lessons  they  were  too  proud  to  take  here,  and 
by-and-by,  perchance,  they  may  be  baptised  with  the  only  bap- 
tism in  this  universe  that  has  ever  given  spiritual  life  or  the 
power  of  imparting  it  to  any  human  soul. 


POSITIVE  RELIGION.  71 

To  the  smallest  of  puppy-dogs  with  such  skim  milk,  Mr. 
Warner!  Cultivate  your  own  chosen  ground.  Pick  your  own 
well-protected  strawberry  patch,  and  let  the  "spiritualization 
business"  alone.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


POSITIVE  RELIGION. 


Positive  Religion:  Essays,  Fragments  and  Hints.  By  Joseph 
Henry  Allen.     Boston:  Roberts  Brothers,  1891. 

The  author  of  this  admirable  book  is  a  typical  Unitarian  of 
the  last  generation,  and  of  a  school  now  rapidly  dying  away. 
Professor  Allen  has,  perhaps,  less  real  insight  into  what  consti- 
tutes "Positive  Religion"  than  has  the  Rev.  Dr.  Peabody  of 
the  same  general  school;  less  enthusiasm  of  Jesus  than  has  the 
Rev.  Dr.  W.  H.  Furness  of  the  same  general  school.  But  he 
and  the  men  of  his  generation,  including  the  generation  just 
preceding,  are  the  men  that  have  made  Unitarianism  respect- 
able in  this  nation.  They  are  men  of  character  and  men  of 
truthfulness,  even  if  they  have  not  the  true  essential  faith  and 
sight  that  enthuse  and  inspire  the  soul  with  true  and  positive 
religion.  They  mean  religion  if  they  do  not  attain  it;  and,  un- 
fortunately, that  is  tar  more  than  can  be  said  of  the  newer  gen- 
eration, represented  by  such  men  as  Savage  and  Ames,  of 
Boston,  and  those  who  fraternize  with  them  in  various  parts  of 
the  country. 

As  a  prelude  and  explanatory  note,  Mr.  Allen's  title-page 
has  the  following  New  Testament  words:  "We  speak  that  we 
do  know  and  testify  that  we  have  seen." 

As  still  further  prelude  "To  the  Reader,"  we  have  Psalm 
126  :  6,  thus  rendered  : 

"  Who  goeth  forth  and  reapeth,  bearing  seed 
Of  precious  truth,  shall  doubtless  come  again. 
Bringing  his  sheaves  with  joy.     A  purer  creed 
Shall  bless  the  waiting  hearts  of  brother  men  ; 
And  thou,  a  child  of  God,  if  faithful  now, 
Shalt  wear  the  crown  of  life  upon  thy  brow." 

All  this  certainly  sounds  very  much  like  "  Positive  Relig- 
ion," and  it  comes  from  the  true  source  of  all  the  highest  and 
purest  positive  religion  that  has  ever  illuminated  this  world; 


72  THE  GLOBE 

that  is,  from  the  Spirit  of  God  as  recorded  in  the  clearest  word 
of  God  man  has  ever  uttered  or  found;  and  if  Professor  Allen 
keeps  up  to  these  key-notes,  he  will  do  well.  In  my  article  on 
"  The  Vagaries,  of  Modem  Thought''  in  this  number,  I  have  quot- 
ed some  very  pertinent  words  from  Matthew  Arnold's  "  Litera-. 
ture  and  Dogma,''  touching  the  true  distinction  between  relig- 
ion and  morality.  These  the  studious  reader  may  examine 
along  with  this  criticism,  as  throwing  some  needed  light  on  the 
question  which  serves  as  title  for  this  article  and  on  the  subject 
of  Professor  Allen's  book.  Meanwhile,  let  us  follow  so  good 
an  opening. 

On  page  nine,  in  his  Preface,  Professor  Allen  says — speak- 
ing of  himself  as  of  a  third  person:  "  Respecting  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  title,  he  may  he  allowed  here  to  say  a  single  word. 
The  long  habit  of  regarding  religion  as  a  thing  of  opinion,  of 
emotion,  or  of  ceremony,  has  tended  greatly  to  blind  men  to  it 
as  aij  element  in  their  own  experience,  or  as  a  force,  mighty 
and  even  passionate  in  the  world's  affairs.  And  it  appears  to 
him  that  any  word,  however  feebly  spoken,  or  any  hint,  how- 
ever imperfectly  conveyed,  which  recognizes  first  of  all  that 
positive  quality  in  it — independent  of  party,  race,  age  or  creed 
— is  a  step  towards  the  revival  of  it  as  a  power— wholesome, 
invigorating  and  inspiring  in  the  lives  of  men." 

In  truth,  this  portion  of  Professor  Allen's  Preface  clearly 
defines  the  object  and  scope  of  the  book.  In  passing,  however, 
it  is  but  fair  to  the  oldest  Church  of  Christendom  to  say  that 
in  no  true  or  full  sense  can  Professor  Allen's  words  be  applied 
to  it.  The  Catholic  Church,  though  exacting  as  to  belief,  has 
always  been  a  Church  as  full  of  good  works  and  of  the  "force," 
passionate  and  powerful  in  the  world,  that  Dr.  Allen  seems  to 
be  seeking.  The  author,  however,  would  hardly  agree,  at  first 
sight,  with  this  statement,  and  his  thrust  at  orthodox  Protestant- 
ism is  so  merited  that  I  for  one  am  not  inclined  to  debate  or 
contest  his  assertion,  though,  in  honesty,  it  must  be  said  that 
orthodox  Protestantism,  also — and  spite  of  its  miserable  doc- 
trines, as  emphasized  by  Luther  and  elaborated  by  Calvin  and 
made  grotesque  in  our  day  by  Moody  and  Sankey — has  been, 
and  is  to-day,  a  positive,  passionate,  working  force  for  good  in 
all  ihe  practical  affairs  of  modern  life. 

Compare,  for  instance,  the  practical  work  of  Bishop  Brooks 


POSITIVE  RELIGION.  78 

of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Banks,  of  the 
Methodist  Church,  with  the  practical  work  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  E. 
E.  Hale  and  the  work  of  the  Rev.  M.  J.  Savage.  Does  any 
sane  man,  with  sense  enough  to  judge  between  real  and  wood- 
en nutmegs,  question  for  one  moment  which  pair  are  doing 
the  most  passionate,  practical  and  spiritual  work  in  Boston 
for  the  present  and  future  generations  of  its  inhabitants?  I 
simply  want  to  forestall  and  meet  in  advance  the  Unitarian  fal- 
lacy that,  because  they  dabble  in  Lyceums  and  quasi-scientific 
quackery  for  the  elevation  of  the  race  to  a  greater  extent  than 
respectable  orthodox  preachers  and  people  are  apt  to  do,  there- 
fore they  are  more  practical  than  their  neighbors.  To  believe 
in  Works  and  to  preach  practical  religion  is  not  necessarily 
practicing  practical  religion;  and  it  may  not  be  half  as  good  or 
passionate  and  powerful  as  a  force  in  society  as  to  preach  Faith 
and  practice,  from  the  deepest  resources  of  the  human  soul, 
the  pure  religion  of  Jesus  in  one's  daily  walk  and  conversation 
and  life. 

In  a  word,  there  has  grown  up  in  our  day,  among  liberal 
Christians  and  pagans,  a  cant  of  practical  religion,  under  the 
general  names  of  humanity,  helpfulness,  brotherhood,  the  uni- 
versal goodness  and  a  lot  of  Boston  dry-rot,  that  never  has 
been  a  positive,  religious  force  in  Boston  or  elsewhere,  and 
never  will  be;  and  "Creed-Christianity,"  as  the  despised  kind 
of  Protestant  orthodoxy  was  long  ago  nicknamed  in  the  great, 
practical,  but  uncultured  West,  may,  after  all,  be  more  positive 
as  a  passionate  religious  force  in  the  world  than  that  no  creed, 
no  emotion,  no  love,  no  enthusiasm,  gaping,  conceited,  cold- 
hearted  and  godless  thing  called  Liberalism,  Free  Religion, 
etc.,  etc.,  in  our  times.  This  is  only  to  caution  the  studious  and 
yet  not  over-critical  reader  against  being  led  away  with  the 
popular  Unitarian  phraseology  of  the  age. 

In  his  first  essay.  Professor  Allen  goes  very  daintily  over 
the  old  story  that  religious  life  is  a  growth  from  small  begin- 
nings, like  plant  growth,  and  the  growth  of  other  natural 
objects  Then  using  Matthew  Arnold's  favorite  term — the 
Eternal — in  the  place  of  God,  Dr.  Allen  indicates  that  religion 
is  coming  ''face  to  face  with  the  Eternal;"  and  he  tells  an  excel- 
lent story — good  enough  for  a  stirring  revival  meeting — to 
show  how  an  unfortunate  young  woman  in  New  York  one 


74  THE  GLOBE. 

night  suddenly  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  Eternal, 
fell  on  her  knees  upon  the  cold  pavement,  and — by  the  Grace 
of  God — these  last  words  being  my  own,  from  the  Bible — 
resolved  to  be  a  Christian,  and  kept  her  resolve. 

But  in  telling  and  in  finishing  this  story  the  Professor 
seems  to  me  to  show  the  muddled  and  imperfect  view  that  all 
Unitarians  seem  to  have  of  this  matter.  Religion,  for  instance^ 
is  not  coming  face  to  face  with  the  Eternal;  that  is,  lots  of  sin- 
ners, Socinian  and  others,  come  now  and  then  pretty  nearly 
face  to  face  with  the  Eternal;  but  where  one  is  smitten  with  a 
deep  sense  of  sin  and  acts  as  the  unfortunate  New  York 
woman  is  said  to  have  acted,  a  thousand  dodge  the  Eternal, 
put  the  business  off  till  a  more  convenient  season,  and  grad- 
ually find  that  the  Eternal  is  only  an  ism,  a  name,  a  new  force 
of  cant,  and  not  at  all  an  inward,  momentary,  living  conscious- 
ness of  God,  that  dominates  for  good  the  whole  passionately 
religious  life.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  this  latter  is  just  what 
ninety  per  cent,  of  all  modern  Unitarian  preachers  and  people 
have  been  doing  the  last  fifty  years  and  are  doing  still,  but  so 
unconsciously  that  they  will  neither  believe  me  nor  thank  me 
for  telling  them  so. 

Naturally,  being  a  Unitarian,  and  hence  a  Congregation- 
alist.  Dr.  Allen  reasons  (page  21)  that  religions  "do  not  tend 
to  grow  together,  but  apart.  A  greater  familiarity  with  the 
workings  of  the  Catholic  Church  these  eighteen  hundred  years 
would  change  the  Professor's  ideas  on  this  head;  but  it  is 
dreadfully  difficult  for  a  genuine  New  Englander  to  look  an 
inch  beyond  the  Puritan  nose  of  modern  Protestantism.  Dr, 
Allen's  book  is  sweet  and  lovely  as  a  treatise  on  modern 
ethics;  but  it  is  my  duty  as  a  reviewer,  and  supremely  as  a 
teacher  of  the  religion  of  Jesus,  to  point  out  wherein  I  think 
the  book  is  lacking  as  regards  "  Positive  Religion."  All  that 
ProfesFor  Allen  has  said  worth  saying  in  his  first  essay  is  good 
old  Biblical  orthodox  teaching.  In  the  Scriptures  the  religious 
life  is  represented  as  first  the  seed,  then  the  blade,  then  the 
ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.  Again,  the  path  of  the  just 
is  pictured  as  the  shining  light  that  shineth  more  and  more 
unto  the  perfect  day;  and  again,  "Whatsoever  a  man  soweth 
that  shall  he  reap."  In  a  word,  the  Bible  teaches  more  nat- 
ural  law  in  the  supernatural  world  and  more   explicitly  the 


POSITIVE  RELIGION.  75 

growth  of  the  grace  of  God  in  the  human  soul,  when  once  it 
has  come  "face  to  face  with  the  Eternal"  and  has  yielded  to 
its  claims,  than  both  Professors  Drummond  and  Allen  to- 
gether have  taught  in  modern  times;  and  the  beauty  and  truth 
of  it  all  is  that  all  that  these  men  really  know  about  the  matter 
they  have  learned  from  the  Bible,  directly  or  indirectly,  through 
its  influence  on  the  culture  and  life  of  modern  times. 

For  prelude  to  his  second  essay.  Professor  Allen  quotes  the 
famous  old  Biblical  words:  "I  will  not  let  thee  go  until  thou 
bless  me,"  the  general  subject  of  the  essay  being  Religion  as 
experience;  and  here  again  we  have  a  true  religious  opening, 
proving  among  other  things  that  the  Professor,  like  so  many 
of  his  fellows,  has  at  heart  a  true  though  dim  apprehension  of 
what  religion  has  been  in  other  men  in  other  times.  But  the 
moment  our  author  gets  away  from  the  Bible  and  attempts  to 
define  religion  from  his  own  consciousness,  or  from  his  own  or 
his  fellows'  present  experiences,  he  drops,  like  a  shot  bird, 
from  this  zenith  of  the  religious  faith  and  fervor  of  the  Old 
Testament  into  the  sand-pits  and  washed-ashore  sea-foam  of 
Boston  transcendentalism;  tells  an  excellent  story  of  Beetho- 
ven's apprehension  of  fate  as  related  to  his  creations  ot  music; 
confuses  religious  faith  and  life  with  pagan  consciousness  of 
art,  and  proves  to  every  soul  who  has  religion,  and  knows  its 
secret  and  peculiar  power,  that  he,  the  Professor,  though  an 
excellent,  scholarly  and  lovely  man,  has  it  not,  and  does  not 
understand  what  it  is.  Religion  is  not  "fate  knocking  at  the 
door."  Religion  is  a  state  of  grace,  found  by  >  ielding  soul  and 
body  to  the  knocking  of  Jesus  Christ  at  the  door;  and  there  is 
apt  to  be  as  much  difference  between  these  knockings  and 
their  results  as  there  was  between  the  preaching  of  Paul  and 
that  disgusting  and  damnable  blasphemy  of  Andrew  Carnegie's 
preaching  in  a  Unitarian  church  in  New  York  City  a  few  weeks 
ago.  But  you  cannot  get  a  Unitarian  to  see  this,  because  our 
modern  mammon  god  has  blinded  his  eyes. 

Further  along  in  this  same  essay  (page  35)  Professor  Allen 
says:  "Religion,  as  we  have  practically  to  deal  with  it,  as  * 
power  in  men's  lives,  is  at  bottom  the  effort  of  the  soul  to  find 
inward  peace  in  a  world  of  sin,  sorrow,  pain  and  death,  where 
to  so  many  life  is  an  unexplained  and  unrelenting  tragedy; 
while  Ethics  is  in  substance  the  effort  of  the  soul  directed  outward. 


16  THE  GLOBE. 

to  subdue  existing  wrong,  \vant,  or  suffering,  or  to  attain  some 
nobler  pattern  of  individual  or  social  life."  And  I  call  that 
one  of  the  weakest  and  most  contradictory  definitions  that 
could  possibly  be  given  of  religion  in  these  days,  by  any  sane, 
sincere  and  good  man,  such  as  Professor  Allen  undoubtedly  is. 

If  I  recollect  it  was  one  of  the  most  unlearned  and  unintel- 
lectual  of  the  apostles  of  Jesus  who  said,  in  substance,  "Pure 
religion  and  undefiled  before  God  is  to  protect  the  unprotected 
and  the  fatherless  and  keep  one's  self  unspotted  from  the 
world;"  and  I  think  the  Apostle  James  understood  relii:(ion 
better  than  Professor  Allen.  When  Jacob — though  he  had 
been  the  cunning,  Yankee-like-Jew  traitor  and  supplanter  of 
his  brother — climbed  the  bars  of  darkness  to  the  ladder  of 
light,  saw  the  stars  gleam  and  the  angels  beyond,  and  vowed 
in  his  passionate  clinging.  God-fearing  and  God-loving  faith, 
"I  will  not  let  thee  go  until  thou  bless  me,"  I  think  he  had 
a  better  understanding  of  religion,  "as  we  have  practically  to 
deal  with  it,"  than  Professor  Allen  at  this  hour. 

When  the  spirit  of  the  Eternal,  impregnating  and  inflaming 
the  soul  of  Isaiah  with  a  passionate  power  not  his  own,  lifted 
him  into  a  consciousness  of  the  supreme  consecration  of  the 
human  soul — realized  only  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth — led  him  to 
cry,  "To  do  thy  will,  O  God,  I  come!"  I  think  he  had  a  better 
understanding  of  religion,  "as  we  have  practically  to  deal  with 
it,"  than  Professor  Allen  has  at  this  hour.  And  when  Jesus 
Christ  said:  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord,  thy  God — the  Eternal 
— with  all  thy  heart  and  mind  and  soul  and  strength,  and 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself;"  and  "Whosoever  will  come  after  me 
let  him  deny  himself  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me ;  and 
"Whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for  my  sake  sha'l  find  it;"  and 
"Give  to  him  that  asketh  thee  and  from  him  that  would  ask  a 
favor  of  thee  turn  not  thou  away;"  and  "If  thou  wouldst  be 
perfect,"  and  really  know  what  true  religion  is,  "as  we  have 
practically  to  deal  with  it,"  "sell  all  that  thou  hast  and  give  to 
the  poor  and  come  and  follow  me"  and  "  Be  ye  perfect,  even  as 
your  Father — the  Eternal — in  heaven,  is  perfect."  I  think,  I 
say,  that  when  Jesus  Christ  used  these  words,  and  presently 
died  for  them,  he  knew  a  great  deal  more  about  practical 
religion,  "as  we  have  to  deal  with  it,"  than  Professor  Allen 
knows  at  this  hour;  and  I  am  sure  that  if  these  wiseacre  Uni- 


POSITIVE  RELIGION.  77 

tarians  would  give  less  attention  to  their  own  transcendental 
and  apple  skin  moonshine  and  give  more  attention  to  the 
teachings  of  Jesus  and  try  honestly  for  one  hour  to  follow  his 
teachings  and  example,  they  would  learn  more  about  religion 
in  that  hour  than  they  will  learn  from  Emerson  and  Noyes  and 
Eliot  and  and  Hedge  and  Allen  and  Savage  and  Ames  and 
May  and  Frothingham  and  Conway,  and  last,  and  least,  that 
mammonite  slave — Andrew  Carnegie — in  a  million   life-times. 

I  could  go  on  repeating  texts  from  every  book  in  the  Bible, 
showing  that  the  writers  had  a  very  clear  notion  of  religion; 
and  I  could  go  on  and  give  the  recorded  experiences  of  thous- 
ands of  ignorant  as  well  as  of  learned  followers  of,  and 
believers  in  Jesus,  to  prove  that  religion,  *'as  we  have  practic- 
ally to  deal  with  it,"  in  our  times  and  in  our  nation,  does  not 
exist  in  any  human  soul  apart  from  that  soul's  close  relation- 
ship with  Jesus  Christ,  obedience  to  Jesus  Christ,  and,  in  some 
sense,  through  the  sacraments  and  graces  of  His  Church  on 
earth.  But  I  am  not  here  going  into  the  theological  or  eccle- 
siastical phase  of  "Positive  Religion."  I  am  simply  trying  to 
indicate  to  Professor  Allen  and  readers  of  The  Globe  that 
positive  religion  is  a  very  simple  thing,  if  they  have  pluck  or 
grace  enough  to  seek  it  and  live  it.  But  I  am  as  sick  of  the 
cant  of  orthodox  hypocrites  and  disguised  demons  as  I  am  of 
the  cant  of  Unitarianism. 

It  would  be  unfair  to  Professor  Allen  and  unjust  to  his 
book  to  close  this  notice  with  a  sentence  which  implied  that 
this  book  was  mainly  given  to  cant.  It  is  not.  It  is  a  sincere 
book,  a  lovely  book,  and  a  genuinely  modest  and  learned  book. 
Nevertheless,  its  best  words  are  its  preludes,  nearly  if  not  all 
taken  from  the  Bible,  and  when  Professor  Allen  leaves  these 
to  give  us  his  own  expositions  of  "Positive  Religion,"  he  falls 
immediately,  and  in  every  case,  into  the  sphere  of  ethics,  as 
generally  understood  in  our  times,  or  into  the  sphere  of  com- 
parative theology,  spite  of  his  own  determination  to  avoid 
this  sphere.  Nevertheless,  the  book  is  charming,  and  every 
student  ought  to  read  it. 

When  Jesus  said:  "  For  their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself,  that 
they  also  may  be  sanctified  through  thy  truth,"  I  think  he  under- 
stood more  about  positive  religion  and  a  high  personal  culture 
than  any  Unitarian  preacher  or  professor  of  ancient  or  modern 


78  THE  GLOBE. 

times.  And  when  Paul  said  "  Charity  suffereth  long  and  is 
kind.endureth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things," 
and,  *'  Charity  never  faileth,"  I  think  he  stood  in  the  central 
soul  of  the  positive  religion  of  all  times,  ages,  nations  and  con- 
ditions of  men,  and  preached  the  only  religion — that  is,  the  re- 
ligion of  God — in  "Christ  Jesus,  that  we  had  better  have  any 
practical  relations  with  in  these  late  days  of  the  revelations  of 
his  immortal  laws  and  his  immortal  love. 

I  suppose  that  positive  religion,  put  in  modern  phrase,  is 
love  of  the  Highest,  worship  of  the  Highest,  service  of  the 
Highest,  though  you,  yourself,  should  go  in  rags  or  to  the  gal- 
lows and  to  hell.  What  thou  lovest  with  all  thy  heart  represents 
the  realm  into  which  thou  art  born,  or  born  again;  the  realm 
to  which  thou  dost  aspire;  the  realm  unto  which  thou  mayest 
attain,  and  the  realm  in  which  alone  thou  canst  find  true  enjoy- 
ment and  peace. 

There  is  realm  of  the  flesh,  of  selfishness,  pride,  sensuality, 
crime,  and  many  love  it,  aspire  to  and  attain  it.  There  is  a  realm 
of  hard,  horse-sense,  fair  dealing,  so  as  to  keep  out  of  prison. 
There  is  a  realm  of  art  in  literature,  painting,  sculpture,  music, 
and  many  aspire  to  it,  but  do  not  love  it  well  enough  to  sink 
and  conquer  the  realm  of  the  flesh  to  attain  it.  There  is  a  realm 
of  pure  taste  in  social  and  domestic  life,  and  few  there  be  that 
dream  of  it.  There  is  a  realm  of  justice  and  truth,  of  trueness 
and  cleanness  of  life;  a  realm  of  unselfish,  self-denying  hero- 
ism for  truth  and  for  the  good  of  others,  including  one's  own 
highest  good.  There  is  a  realm  of  mercy,  of  wide  and  deep 
and  tender,  enduring,  loving,  faithfulness  to  friend  and  foe, 
under  all  hardness  and  injustice  and  insult  and  falsehood. 
There  is  a  realm  in  which,  and  through  these  last-mentioned, 
the  human  spirit  finds  and  walks  with  the  Eternal  and  in  the 
Eternal;  perceives  the  beautiful  Providence  of  the  Eternal  in 
all  life,  in  all  things;  worships  the  Eternal  as  the  highest  beauty 
and  the  highest  good,  and  the  highest  infinite  love,  and  the  ob- 
ject of  love,  and  loves  and  worships  and  serves  even  unto  death; 
and  any  sane  and  sober  man  in  Boston  or  elsewhere  knows 
which  of  these  realms  of  life  he  loves  and  dwells  in  or  aspires 
unto;  and  only  those  who,  having  entered  this  seven-fold  realm 
of  life,  have  pressed,  in  love  and  duty,  toward  the  pearly  gold- 
en gates  of  the  last — the  new  Jerusalem  of  the  spirit  of  divine 


LOVE'S  REMEMBRANCE.  79 

consecration — know  anything  about  positive  religion,  or  have 
any  right  to  talk  about  it. 

The  rest  need  to  go  to  the  confessional;  name,  confess,  for- 
sake, hate  and  depart  from  their  sins,  and  try,  by  the  grace  of 
Christ,  to  win  the  realms  of  glory;  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
that  is  the  path  that  all  Harvard  and  Boston — including  the 
Hasty- Pudding  Club — will  have  to  take,  or  go  to  John  Calvin's 
old-fashioned  hell,  at  least  for  a  while, 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


LOVE'S  REMEMBRANCE. 


Dost  thou  remember,  love,  the  fair,  far  hour. 

When,  on  the  hillside,  thou  didst  sit  by  me, 

Enfolded  with  the  strong  arm  of  the  sea, 

As  day  was  losing  its  majestic  power  ; 

The  near  hills  glowing  in  a  golden  shower 

Of  sun  and  twilight ;  when,  love,  as  from  thee 

To  me,  yet  not  to  me,  thou  said'st  "Dear?" — Free, 

Sweet,  incarnate  spirit  of  each  flower 

Of  all  the  ages  !  dost  thou  mind  that  day  ? 

As  it  were  taking  angel  wings  to  fly 

Into  the  realms  of  love,  where  spirits  die 

For  life  immortal.     O  my  dearest !  say 

Thou  dost  remember !  and  each  wave,  each  star 

Is  crowned  for  me  a  victor  in  love's  war. 

W.  H.  Thornk. 


OUR  ANTI-FOREIGN  LEGISLATION. 


The  other  day  I  cut  the  following  broad  and  beautiful  hu- 
manitarian item  from  a  New  England  exchange;  and  it  is  so 
characteristic  of  our  modern  liberal  and  cosmopolitan  Ameri- 
can spirit  and  legislation  that  it  seemed  to  me  worth  reproduc- 
ing in  The  Globe  : 

"A  committee  of  steamboat  men  will  appeal  to  the  United 
States  district  attorney,  asking  that  employment  of  Canadians 
on  the  lake  steamers  at  Milwaukee  be  prohibited," 

By-and-by,  I  doubt  not,  committees  of  various  professions 
of  American  citizens,  male  or  female,  will  appeal  to  the  proper 
authorities  to  prevent  Canadians,  Englishmen,  Frenchmen, 
Germans,  or  Europeans,  Asiatics  or  Africans  of  any  class  from 
even  looking  at  this  country  when  they  come  here  as  tourists 
and  lavish  their  money  upon  our  needy  steamboat  and  other 
citizens.  By-and-by  American  artists  will  appeal  to  Congress 
to  build  a  massive  fence  around  Niagara  and  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, so  that  none  but  American  artists  can  be  admitted,  even 
on  ticket,  to  see  the  glories  of  this  God-given  land.  By-and- 
by  committees  of  loafing,  impecunious  and  useless  American 
bachelors  will  appeal  to  the  proper  legal  authorities  to  pre- 
vent American  heiresses  from  marrying  European  gentlemen. 
And  by-and-by  T.  V.  Powderly  &  Co.,  representing  the  lowest, 
purchasable,  mouthing,  lazy,  incapable,  ignorant  and  contempt- 
ible foreign  elements  in  this  country,  will  petition  Congress  to 
prevent  any  mechanics  from  working  in  America  unless  they 
are  the  slaves  of  said  T,  V,  Powderly  &  Co,;  that  is,  slaves  of 
the  lowest,  basest  and  most  ignorant  and  selfish  masters  that 
ever  held  whip  over  any  class  of  slaves  in  this  afflicted  world. 

I  never  expect  to  find  words  severe  enough  to  express  the 
pity  and  contempt  I  feel  for  every  single  act  of  anti- foreign 
legislation  that  has  passed  any  of  our  Congresses  during  the 
last  twenty  years;  and  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  I  know  how 
surely  every  wrong  law  rights  itself  by-and-by,  through  work- 
ing its  own  destruction,  I  should  use  what  influence  I  have  with 
the  Nihilists  and  Anarchists  to  denounce  and  repudiate  all  laws 


OUR  ANTI-FOREIGN  LEGISLATION.  81 

made  by  such  foolish  and  cowardly  Congresses  as  have  passed 
these  anti-foreign  laws  during  the  last  twenty  years.  As  it  is, 
I  obey  all  laws,  and  urge  all  men  to  obey  all  the  laws  of  the 
land  in  which  they  live,  but  I  do  my  little  best  to  spread  such 
intelligence  as  will  make  such  damnable  laws  impossible  in  the 
next  generation. 

A  few  years  ago  and  our  forefathers  were  all  foreigners; 
even  now  the  parents  of  many  of  the  recreant  children  who  are 
urging  anti- foreign  legislation  are  foreigners;  worse  still,  many 
of  the  rascals  who  are  screaming  and  voting  and  even  legislat- 
ing against  foreigners  are  foreigners  themselves,  only  lately 
escaped  from  the  poorhouses  and  mud  hovels  of  the  old  world, 
while  they  are  screaming  against  their  fathers  and  their  own 
blood.  It  is  perfectly  true  to-day,  as  was  said  of  the  early 
witch-hanging  Puritans,  that  there  is  something  in  the  Ameri- 
can atmosphere  which  dries  the  finer  sap  out  of  the  foreign 
blood  and  leaves  it  gritty,  but  soulless,  conscienceless  and  often 
too  hellish  to  be  classified.  And  I  think  that  in  its  incipiency, 
begetting,  pregnancy,  birth-history  and  influence,  the  whole 
brood  of  our  anti-foreign  legislation  is  hag-mothered  and  hell- 
born,  and  hence  is  sure  only  to  produce  confusion,  fratricide, 
revolution,  and  hence  speedy  reformation  and  change. 

The  land  owned  and  controlled  by  the  United  States  to-day 
is  as  capable  of  sustaining  and  employing  500,0CX),000  of  hu- 
man beings  as  it  is  capable  of  sustaining  and  employing  the 
6o,CX)o,ooo  now  inhabiting  this  country.  The  great  central  val- 
ley of  this  God-given  and  God-blessed  land,  lying  between  the 
glorious  ranges  of  the  Allegheny  and  Rocky  Mountains,  is 
capable  of  sustaining  and  employing  at  least  300,000,000  hu- 
man beings,  and  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  this  beautiful  God- 
given  valley  is  now  and  for  hundreds  of  years  has  been  crying 
unto  God  to  send  men  to  till  it  and  pluck  its  treasures  from  its 
bosom  for  their  comfort  and  their  joy.  And  at  least  ninety 
per  cent,  of  the  men  who  are  clamoring  for  anti-foreign  legis- 
lation are  too  ignorant,  selfish  and  lazy  to  study  the  resources 
of  this  land,  or  the  meaning  of  the  facts  I  have  here  stated. 

In  all  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  miles  of  our 
ocean,  river  and  lake  shipping  frontage  there  is,  at  this  day, 
after  four  hundred  years  of  our  occupation,  hardly  one  decent 
wharf  for  a  ship  to  tie  to.     Our  architecture  is  in  the  hands  of 


«2  THE  GLOBE. 

hacks  and  spoilers.  Our  manufacturing  establishments  are  run 
to  make  things  to  sell  and  not  to  wear,  but  to  wear  out  as  soon 
as  possible.  Our  churches  and  pulpits  are  simply  cowards' 
corners  for  hypocrites  and  slaves;  our  legislation  is  "done  by 
fools  at  the  dictation  of  knaves;"  and  the  Hon,  James  G. 
Blaine's  recent  and  politic  attempts  at  certain  limited  recipro- 
cities of  trade  between  this  land  and  other  lands  are  the  only 
intelligent  squintings  even  at  decent  international  action  that 
we  have  taken  since  the  days  American  loyalists  tried  to  keep 
the  Philistines  from  kicking  over  the  traces  that  held  us  to  the 
principles  of  the  world-wide  honesty  and  human  decency. 

We  neecj  a  hundred  thousand  Chinese  in  this  country  to-day, 
if  only  for  decent  servants  and  laundry-work,  and  to  teach  the 
loafing,  sidewalk,  political  and  other  tramps  of  our  boasted 
civilization  what  true  industry  and  true  economy  really  are 
worth  in  this  world.  What  need  we  to  bother  about  the  opium 
the  heathen  may  chew,  make,  or  sell  to  our  clowns  who  are 
weak  enough  to  accept  the  stuff  ?  If  half  these  well-dressed 
American  clowns  were  opiumized  to  death,  or  drowned  next 
week,  and  their  places  all  filled  by  industrious  Chinese,  polite 
and  hard-working  and  economizing  Italians,  and  even  pauper- 
Russiar-but-willing-to-work  Jews,  this  land  would  be  the  better 
of  the  trade  inside  of  a  hundred  years.  In  a  word,  the  hard- 
headed,  narrow  provincialism  of  our  modern  American  civiliz- 
ation and  legislation  is  leading  us  by  very  old  and  familiar 
paths  to  certain,  sure,  deep  and  everlasting  damnation.  I  would 
it  were  not  so. 

We  are  the  smartest  people  on  the  earth  to-day,  but  in  a 
narrow,  petty  and  small  way;  and  with  all  our  smartness  we 
are  the  most  slovenly,  wasteful,  spendthrift  people  on  the  earth 
to-day;  and  with  all  our  reading  and  all  our  millionfold,  hydra- 
headed  newspaper  and  pulpit  social  intelligence,  we  do  not 
seem  to  have  learned  that  spendthriftism  and  waste,  in  all 
times,  lead  to  self-destruction  and  want  and  shame;  and  we  do 
not  seem  capable  of  learning  that  all  disloyalty  to  duty,  all  un- 
filial,  unconscientious  thought  or  life  leads  as  by  laws  of  light- 
ning to  hells  deeper  than  John  Calvin  or  his  contemptible  and 
now  amended  Confession  of  Faith  ever  believed  in.  I  tell  you 
that  you  simply  cannot  save  "  American  civilization  "  on  the 
anti-foreign  basis  the  bastards  of  American  civilization  are  run- 
nincT  it  tn-dav  W    H    Thorntp- 


EMPEROR  WILLIAM'S  EDUCATION  BILL. 


The  German  political  and  social  problem  grows  more  com- 
plex every  day,  and  it  will  continue  to  do  so  until  the  great 
European  world-battle  is  fought,  and  then  the  entire  political, 
social  and  religious  condition  of  Europe  will  be  changed.  It 
is  easy  to  say  that  the  Emperor  William  is  queer;  has  strange 
notions,  and  that  his  sore  ear,  or  other  physical  ailment,  bothers 
him.  Of  what  king  or  queen  or  woman  on  earth  could  not 
these  commonplaces  be  hazarded  without  going  far  from  the 
truth.  And  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  see  that  the  atheists 
and  the  so-called  free-thinkers  of  Germany  oppose  the  present 
educational  bill  because,  in  their  stone-blindness,  they  do  not 
want  their  children  to  receive  any  religious  instruction  at  all. 

It  is  also  easy  to  see  that  the  Catholics  are  opposed  to  grant- 
ing equal  religious  privileges  of  school  instruction  to  Jews, 
Unitarians,  Methodists,  and  the  like,  in  whose  religious  teach- 
ings they  have  and  can  have  no  faith.  It  is  also  comparative- 
ly easy  to  see  why  many  sober-minded  and  deep-thinking  men 
are  opposed  to  all  bills  of  the  sort,  because  they  have  seen,  again 
and  again,  the  disastrous  results  of  the  State's  undertaking  to 
manage  the  religious  instruction  of  the  children  and  youth  of 
any  nation.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  for  the  average  newspaper 
or  other  writer  to  see  how  this  hodge-podge  of  the  devil's  own 
mischief  has  come  about  in  modern  Germany,  or  to  understand 
that  something  radical  has  to  be  done  with  and  for  the  relig- 
ious instruction  of  the  youth  of  Germany  (and  of  other  nations 
for  that  matter),  or  else  that  Germany  and  its  emperor  are 
doortied  to  hell. 

Ever  since  the  days  of  Frederick  the  Great,  and  even  from 
the  days  of  his  father,  the  tendency  of  education  in  Prussia, 
and  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  in  all  Germany,  has  been 
not  only  secular  and  godless,  as  is  our  own  American  public 
school  education,  but  the  Prussian  and  German  education  has 
been  dastardly  and  exclusively  military.  I  am  speaking  of  the 
central  spirit  of  it — the  true  inwardness  and  prevailing  tend- 
ency of  it.  This  has  been  not  to  make  men  good  citizens, 
much  less  good  Christians,  but  simply  good  fighters,  good  sol- 


84  THE  GLOBE. 

dicrs — colonels,  generals  and  the  like.  And  the  whole  of  Bis- 
marck's great  influence  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  was  given  to 
encourage  this  passion  for  and  this  preparation  for  and  this 
dependence  upon  the  war-power  of  the  nation;  not  to  develop 
or  depend  upon  its  spiritual  energy  or  its  fulfillment  of  its  ob- 
ligations to  truth  and  to  Almighty  God. 

Whatsoever  a  man  or  a  nation  soweth  that  will  he  or  it  also 
reap.  Germany,  headed  by  Prussia,  is  by  all  odds  the  best 
drilled  fighting  camp  on  earth  at  this  hour.  In  order  to  attain 
this  thing — and  I  am  not  saying  it  was  unwise  or  unnecessary 
to  attain  it  for  the  hour,  but  in  order  to  kttain  it — Bismarck, 
especially,  had  to  and  did  not  hesitate  to  oppress  the  Catholic 
party — to  clip  and  cut  its  power  over  the  education  of  the  Ger- 
man youth.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  try  to  bring  all  Ger- 
man-born children — even  those  especially  consecrated  to  the 
Church  and  its  priesthood — under  the  dominion  of  his  military 
educational  slavery;  wanted  to  make  soldiers,  or  possible  sol- 
diers, of  the  young  priests — to  usurp  utterly  the  spiritual  as  he 
had  killed  the  educational  and  temporal  power  of  the  Church; 
in  a  word,  as  I  have  said  elsewhere,  he  attempted  "  to  cut  out 
the  heart  of  the  Church," 

In  gathering  the  harvests  of  their  conduct,  men  and  nations 
always  experience  reactions  of  hate  against  and  toward  the 
devil's  arguments  that  led  them  into  their  snares.  Bismarck 
repented  of  his  folly  toward  the  Church  during  the  last  few 
years  of  his  power;  but  it  was  too  late.  Like  our  own  Mr. 
Blaine,  Bismarck  had  served  the  devil  of  monopoly  in  his  line 
until  it  was  too  late  for  his  policy  of  reciprocity  toward  the 
Church  to  do  him  any  good.  He  had  sowed  his  seed  in  other 
fields;  had  gathered  his  shekels,  his  honey,  his  crops,  and  was 
never  to  reap  harvests  from  his  later  policy  toward  the  Church; 
was,  in  a  word,  a  ruined  man,  as  every  man  is  who  gives  his 
manhood  to  the  devil,  and  sneaks  in  at  the  back  door  of  his  old 
age  with  some  scheme  of  reciprocity  toward  honor  and  truth 
and  worship  and  the  claims  of  the  Eternal, 

In  a  word,  the  Emperor  William  is  born  to  the  nausea  of 
Bismarckism,  He  is  as  fond  of  his  army  as  was  Frederick  the 
Great;  but  he  has,  thank  heaven,  other  blood  in  him  than  his 
great  grandfather  had,  and  has  had  other  teachers  than  the 
mere  Yankee,  sharp-witted  Voltaire,     Again,  in  a  word,  the 


EMPEROR  IVILUARPS  EDUCATION  BILL.  85 

Emperor  William,  having  been  otherwise  born  and  educated, 
perceives  clearly  enough  that  there  are  problems  right  under 
his  own  nose  that  he  cannot  solve  by  armies  ten  times  as  strong 
as  those  now  at  his  beck  and  call.  Choke  your  spiritual  facul- 
ty; cut  out  the  heart  of  the  Church;  crucify  your  Christ  on  Cal- 
vary or  elsewhere;  the  Holy  Ghost  of  this  faculty,  this  Church, 
this  Christ,  will  rise  to  haunt  and  pluck  you  out  of,  or  drive 
you  headlong  into  deeper  and  deeper  hells.  The  Emperor 
William  sees  this  ghost;  cannot  down  it,  and  would  give  it  as 
hostage  an  educational  bill.  It  will  not  work;  but  it  will  work 
better  than  atheism.  It  will  take  as  long  to  woo  back  the 
wounded  spirit  of  the  Church  as  it  took  to  drive  it  out  of  Ger- 
man education.  It  will  take  just  as  long  to  woo  it  back  in 
France  and  the  United  States,  but  I  am  talking  now  of  Ger- 
many. And  nothing  but  revolutions  of  blood  and  iron  and 
death  will  restore  it  in  either  case. 

Of  course  I  am  aware  that  Germany  has  her  numerous  and 
her  popular  universities,  and  could  readily  give  their  number 
and  the  numbers  of  students  attending  each  and  all  of  them 
the  present  year;  and  that  these  universities  teach  science  and 
philosophy,  and  "religion"  or  theology,  and  that  Germany  is 
something  besides  a  war-camp.  I  am  not  going  into  that;  I 
am  speaking  only  of  the  prevailing  genius  and  habit  of  the 
country,  and  what  these  have  led  to;  how  deep  the  horrible 
malady  is,  and  what  fearful  processes  of  cure,  besides  education- 
al bills,  there  are  ahead  for  Germany — and  for  the  rest  of  us, 
by-and-by. 

The  following  are  said  to  be  the  prickly  points  in  the 
troublesome  educational  bill : 

"  Paragraph  14 — In  the  organization  of  primary  schools  the 
question  of  religious  confession  shall  be  acted  upon.  Children 
shall  receive  instruction  from  a  teacher  of  their  own  creed. 
New  primary  schools  shall  only  be  instituted  on  a  confession- 
al basis.  The  existing  schools  will  remain  in  their  present  con- 
dition. 

"  Paragraph  15 — If  the  number  of  children  attending  a  school 
not  of  their  confession  exceed  thirty  the  erection  of  a  separate 
school  may  be  ordered.  If  the  number  exceed  sixty  it  shall  be 
compulsory. 

"Paragraph  16 — Religious  instruction  will  be  imparted  ac- 
cording to  the  teachings  of  the  religious  body  in  which  the  pu- 
pil belongs. 


86  THE  GLOBE 

*'  Paragraph  17 — No  child  belonging  to  any  religious  body 
recognized  by  the  State  shall  remain  without  religious  insrt-uc- 
tion  from  a  teacher  of  his  own  professed  creed.  Children  who 
belong  to  a  religious  body  may  be  admitted  to  the  instruction 
of  another  religion  only  by  request  of  their  parents  or  guard- 
ians. If  the  number  of  children  of  various  confessions  pre- 
sent in  one  school  exceed  fitteen,  the  authorities  shall  be  re- 
quired, if  possible,  to  impart  religious  instruction  to  them. 
Children  who  do  not  belong  to  any  religious  body  recognized 
by  the  State  must  take  part  in  the  religious  instruction  of  the 
school." 

The  aim  is  to  force  some  sort  of  religious  instruction,  so 
called,  upon  every  Prussian-born  child.  As  if  the  thing  were 
possible;  as  if  it  did  not  take  a  power,  high  as  heaven  and  deep- 
er than  hell,  to  force  religious  instruction  upon  any  child,  and 
as  if  Prussia  had  not  offended  that  power  beyond  easy  repair. 
The  educational  bill  is  simply  an  Imperial  and  National  at- 
tempt at  repentance  toward  God  and  His  Church.  It  is  a  good 
move,  but  it  will  take  a  million  such,  bathed  in  human  blood, 
to  undo  the  wrongs  that  have  been  done  and  to  put  the  nation 
again  in  touch  with  the  true  and  only  religious  instruction  un- 
der the  sun.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


SOUVENIRS  OF  A  DIPLOMAT. 


' '  Your  tale,  sir,  would  cure  deafness." — Shakespeare. 

Persons  who  wish  to  have  another  convincing  proof  that 
truth  cleverly  told  is  far  more  fascinating  than  fiction,  should 
by  all  means  read  the  Chevalier  de  Bacourt's  "Souvenirs  of  a 
Diplomat,"  a  volume  of  private  letters  from  America,  during 
the  administrations  of  Presidents  Van  Buren,  Harrison  and  Ty- 
ler, while  the  Chevalier  was  Minister  from  France  to  this 
country.  A  happy  memoir  of  the  author,  by  the  Comtesse  de 
Mirabcau,  precedes  the  letters,  which,  with  some  singular  and 
amusing  errors,  have  been  sharply  translated  from  the  French 
and  are  now  published  in  this  country. 

M.  de  Bacourt  was  uncle  to  the  Comtesse  de  Mirabeau, 
and  when  she  found  these  letters  among  his  papers  they  seem- 
ed to  her  to  "  describe  the  United  States  so  well,  such  as  it  was 
forty  years  ago,"  that  she  thought  it  her  duty  to  publish  them. 


SOUVENIRS  OF  A  DIPLOMAT.  87 

It  was  a  happy  thought.  The  book  will  afford  the  keenest 
amusement  to  thousands  of  Americans  as  well  as  to  thousands 
of  English  and  French.  As  though  republican  institutions  in 
this  country  have  not  gone  quite  as  completely  to  the  dogs  as 
M.  de  Bacourt  and  his  niece  in  these  pages  would  imply,  and,  in 
fact,  though  some  people  think  we  are  doing  finely  with  our 
venture,  still  it  will  not  hurt  us  at  all  to  see  how  some  of  our 
idols  and  their  manners  were  viewed  by  other  eyes  a  genera- 
tion ago. 

As  a  reason  for  publishing  these  letters  and  as  a  sort  of 
summary  of  their  contents,  the  Comtesse,  in  her  preface  and 
memoir,  says,  of  our  "great  and  glorious"  country:  "There  is 
nothing  to  sympathize  with,  nothing  to  inspire  confidence, 
nothing  to  admire.  One  sees  the  representatives  of  the  nation 
insulting  each  other  and  fighting  with  fists  and  knives  in  the 
streets  and  other  public  places — even  in  the  halls  of  Congress; 
the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  gets  drunk  at  a  dinner  given  by 
the  President  of  the  United  States  to  the  Diplomatic  Corps, 
Their  manners  are  entirely  without  refinement  and  with  no  rules 
to  govern  them."  All  this,  with  infinite  detail  and  spicy  ac- 
companiment, is  set  down  in  M.  de  Bacourt's  letters.  The 
author  was  an  experienced  diplomat  when  he  came  to  this 
country,  in  1840.  In  the  opinion  of  his  niece  and  M.  de  Talley- 
rand, "  his  intellect  was  of  a  superior  order  and  his  judgment 
sound."  His  book  proves  that  his  observation  was  quick  and 
and  that  he  wrote  very  entertaining  letters. 

M.  de  Bacourt  left  Paris  in  the  early  part  of  May,  184O, 
touched  at  London  to  see  M.  Guizot,  and  sailed  from  Bristol 
June  4.  On  the  20th  of  the  same  month  he  wrote  from  New 
York  that  it  was  delightful  to  sleep  in  a  bed  again  after  fifteen 
nights'  confinement  in  a  kind  of  cofifin.  He  was  not  able  to 
quiet  his  spirits,  however,  in  New  York,  and  could  not  banish 
a  feeling  of  deep  sadness  and  regret  or  get  over  the  conviction 
and  instinct  that  the  world  he  had  left  was  the  best.  He  was 
not  in  robust  health,  and  he  was  homesick  during  the  most  of 
his  stay.  New  York  wore  to  him  the  aspect  of  a  town  sacri- 
ficed to  trade — there  was  not  a  monument  or  a  well-built  house 
that  was  not  spoiled  by  something  narrow  and  of  bad  taste. 

He  dined  at  a  restaurant  in  New  York  and  thought  the  din- 
ner detestable  and  very  dear.     He  went  over  into  New  Jersey 


88  THE  GLOBE. 

and  dined  with  Mr.  James  Kin^j,  of  the  firm  of  Prime,  Ward  & 
King,  New  York — Mr.  King  and  the  friends  he  invited  being 
among  the  most  aristocratic  people  of  the  city — Mr.  Astor 
among  them;  but  M.  de  Bacourt  could  not  get  over  the  impres- 
sion that  they  were  all  like  Englishmen,  of  second  and  third 
rate.  "  They  try  to  be  elegant,  but  you  see  that  it  is  not  their 
everyday  manner,  and  they  feel  embarrassed." 

The  only  real  pleasure  he  found  in  New  York  was  to  wit- 
ness the  deep  impression  M.  de  Talleyrand  had  made  on  the 
best  people  of  the  country.  It  never  seemed  to  occur  to  M.  de 
Bacourt  that  he  was  here  to  make  any  profound  impression 
himself,  but  only  to  receive  impressions  and  sneer  a  little,  and 
occasionally  he  was  crowded  with  some  very  silly  yarns,  which 
he  told,  as  of  a  girl  in  New  York  *'  whose  antecedents  were  bad, 
but  who  married  and  continued  in  the  same  course,"  and  who 
brought  suit  against  her  father  for  libeling  her. 

On  June  27,  M.  de  Bacourt  found  himself  in  Philadelphia 
He  did  not  like  his  accommodations  here  much  better  than  in 
New  York.  The  hotels  impressed  him  with  an  external  air  of 
cleanliness  and  elegance,  but  they  were  wanting  in  necessary 
comforts;  furniture  handsome  enough,  but  no  easy  chair  or 
night  table.  "  If  you  ask  for  them,  you  receive  a  brutal  answer 
to  the  effect  there  are  none,  and  that  nobody  ever  uses  such 
things."  The  police  were  not  numerous  or  very  efificient  in 
1840.  In  many  public  places  hung  the  old  signs,  "  Beware  of 
pickpockets,"  and  M.  de  Bacourt  was  well  scared.  Writing 
from  this  city  he  says:  "Then  don't  forget  that  all  Americans 
chew  tobacco  and  spit  continually  around  them,  and  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  keep  out  of  this  filth." 

But  our  city  seemed  to  him  quieter  and  less  engrossed  in 
trade  than  New  York.  And  he  had  been  told  that  this  city  was 
the  scientific  capital  of  the  country,  and  that  society  was  more 
agreeable  here  than  in  other  places.  He  had  engaged  rooms 
at  the  old  Union  Hotel;  expected  to  find  everything  comfort- 
able, but  actually  had  to  write  on  his  knees,  there  being  no 
table.  Fanny  Elssler — of  whom  more  presently — was  here  at 
the  same  time  and  stopping  at  the  same  hotel.  M.  de  Bacourt 
was  "much  pleased  "  with  her  dancing,  but  was  amused  to  see 
the  hall  crowded  and  to  hear  the  furious  applause,  far  exceed- 
ing London  or  Paris.  "Quakers  wildly  excited  over  the  dancer, 
Fanny  Elssler." 


SOUVENIRS  OF  A  DIPLOMAT.  89 

At  this  hotel  M,  de  Bacourt  called  on  Mademoiselle  Elssler. 
She  was  gracious,  but  she  did  not  "  bear  close  inspection — her 
smile  spoiled  by  very  bad  teeth."  Then,  also,  our  diplomat 
**  paid  a  visit  to  Madame  Pageot,  a  tall,  thin  American  woman, 
with  an  enormous  waist  and  protruding  bad  teeth.  Her  hus- 
band married  her  some  years  ago  on  account  of  her  great 
beauty."  "  I  made  my  acqaintance  and  took  my  leave  of  her 
at  the  same  time."  Then  he  went  to  the  Independence  Hall 
and  saw  "  a  wooden  statue  of  Washington  "  Went  to  Wash- 
ington and  Franklin  Squares,  and  attended  church  here  on  Sun- 
day. He  thought  the  service  very  well  done  in  Philadelphia, 
and  the  music  less  secular  than  in  the  New  York  churches.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  his  bad  health,  he  would  have  been  still 
better  pleased  here.    But  Fanny  Elssler  helped  him  amazingly. 

From  Philadelphia  M.  de  Bacourt  went  to  Baltimore,  June 
29,  and  had  some  excellent  talk  with  the  Archbishop.  P'rom 
Baltimore  he  went  to  Washington,  and,  under  date  of  July  2, 
says:  "This  time  I  write  to  you  from  my  capital;  or  I  should 
say  better  from  my  penitentiary."  In  Washington  the  broad 
streets,  the  absence  of  trees,  the  scorching  heat,  the  mosqui- 
toes, the  mud  in  the  streets,  and  the  hogs  and  cows  by  day  and 
night,  and  the  statesmen  with  their  feet  on  the  backs  of  chairs, 
and  their  spitting  everywhere,  were  too  much  for  our  French- 
man. He  could  not  get  used  to  it.  The  home  of  his  prede- 
cessor did  not  suit  M;  de  Bacourt.  There  were  no  furniture 
dealers  to  suit  him.     He  could  neither  buy  nor  rent  furniture. 

He  found  two  Frenchmen  in  Washington  who  furnished 
meals  and  lodging.  One  of  them  had  a  good  house,  but,  hav- 
ing made  his  fortune,  was  ''insolent,  negligent  and  dirty."  The 
other  house  was  small  and  badly  furnished,  but  preferable  on 
account  of  civility  and  poverty  of  the  proprietor.  He  made  an 
arrangement  with  a  livery- stable  keeper  to  furnish  him  with  a 
carriage  and  horses.  The  bargain  was  completed,  but,  next 
morning,  the  liveryman  announced  that  he  could  not  be  count- 
ed on,  unless  one-third  more  than  the  price  agreed  upon  was 
paid,  and  so  wrote:  "In  this  country  they  take  back  their 
word  without  ceremony.  No  contract  is  respected  unless  it  is 
signed."  In  Washington,  among  other  celebrities,  he  met  the 
Minister  of  Russia,  M.  Bodisco,  whom  he  had  known  in  Stock- 
holm, eighteen  years  previously.     "  I  left  him,"  he  says,  "with 


90  THE    GLOBE. 

gray  hair,  and  I  find  him  with  black,  curly  hair  and  whiskers 
and  mustache  dyed.  At  60  years  of  age  he  had  just  married 
an  American  girl  of  16  !     Great  good  may  it  do  him!" 

In  Washington  he  went  with  M.  Pageot  to  Mr.  Forsyth's, 
"the  Palmerston  of  this  country,  who  has  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing very  stiff,  impolite  and  cynical."  July  3,  1840,  M.  de  Ba- 
court  paid  his  respects  to  President  Van  Buren  at  the  White 
House.  The  Secretary  of  State,  who  ought  to  have  taken  the 
diplomat,  did  not  arrive  in  time.  On  this  occasion  the  Presi- 
dent wore  a  plain  black  coat  and  gray  trousers  and  boots,  and 
this  entirely  consoled  M.  de  Bacourt  for  not  having  his  own 
uniform,  which  had  not  yet  arrived.  The  President  received 
him  very  kindly,  and  here  is  a  characteristic  bit  of  comment: 
"  1  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Van  Bufen  is  called  the  Ameri- 
can Talleyrand.  This  must  flatter  him,  for  in  talking  to  me  of 
the  dear  Prince  he  repeated  at  least  ten  times,  ^  wonderful  man! 
Mr.  Van  Buren  is  acknowledged  to  be  a  very  able  man,  but 
more  in  what  concerns  his  personal  affairs  than  in  the  direction 
of  the  affairs  of  the  country." 

M.  de  Bacourt  went  to  the  House  of  Representatives,  and 
what  shocked  him  most  "was  the  sound  of  continual  spitting. 
They  all  spit — everywhere  and  on  anything.  The  President  is 
the  only  one  I  have  seen  who  is  exempt  from  this  vice.  Mr. 
Van  Buren,  the  son  of  an  innkeeper,  and  himself  even  trained 
to  the  family  calling,  has  acquired  to  an  astonishing  degree 
the  ways  of  the  world.  He  is  a  man  of  polished  manners.  His 
politeness  is  perfect;  it  is  the  perfect  imitation  of  z gentleman." 
At  a  dinner  given  by  M.  Bodisco,  M.  de  Bacourt  was  seated  be- 
tween "Mrs.  Forsyth,  who  talked  to  him  in  English,  and  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  Shaaff,  who  spoke  French,  both  talking  at  the 
same  time" — "the  table  loaded  with  china,  glass  and  bronzes, 
of  no  value  and  in  bad  taste,  spread  out  for  ornament,  not  use. 
The  guests  laughed  at  their  host  in  the  most  open  manner,  and 
everyone  pitied  the  unhappy  child  who  had  become  the  wife 
of  this  villainous  old  man,"  with  his  whiskers  and  mustache 
both  dyed. 

M.  de  Bacourt  is  better  at  social  gossip  than  at  statesman- 
ship. In  Washington,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore  and  New  York, 
either  by  accident  or  otherwise,  he  was  constantly  meeting 
Fanny  Elssler  and  the  Chevalier  Wickoff;  and  he  understood 


SOUVENIRS  OF  A  DIPLOMAT.  91 

all  that  was  going  on  in  that  direction.  The  second  time  M, 
de  Bacourt  saw  Fanny  dance  in  Washington  he  was  more  than 
amused.  "  She  danced  ravishingly."  Next  day  Fanny  went 
to  see  him,  but  he  was  out.  July  i8  he  writes:  "I  have  just 
returned  from  a  visit  to  Fanny  Elssler,  who  has  engaged  a  kind 
of  duenna,  whom  she  could  dispense  with  very  well,  for  the 
poor  girl's  reputation  is  too  far  gone  to  be  benefited  by  a  guard- 
ian. .  .  .  Just  imagine — she  was  presented  formally  to  the 
President,  and  to  all  the  Cabinet  assembled  to  receive  her. 

This  strikes  me  as  the  height  of  the  ridiculous I 

went  this  morning  to  say  good-by  to  Fanny  Elssler,  who  is  go- 
ing to  Baltimore.  She  told  me  all  about  her  love  affairs.  M. 
de  la  Valette  is  her  favored  lover,  but  he  is  at  Pau  just  now.  I 
think  he  was  wrong  in  letting  her  go  without  him.  Before 
leaving  he  had  recommended  her  to  an  American,  who  was  a 
friend  of  his — Mr.  Wickoff — who  accompanied  her  to  America 
and  follows  her  everywhere.  She  spoke  to  me  of  La  Valette 
as  her  lover  and  Mr.  Wickoff  as  her  friend.  I  took  all  that  for 
what  it  was  worth."  At  all  events,  this  puts  a  new  phase  or 
two  on  that  well-worn  story.  July  26,  M.  de  Bacourt  left 
Washington  for  Baltimore,  where  Fanny  Elssler  gave  an  enter- 
tainment, and  now  "they  say  that  this  lovely  creature  has  mar- 
ried M.  Wickoff.  It  will  be  an  excellent  match  for  her;  it  is 
true  he  is  a  bastard,  but  he  has  60,000  francs  a  year.  I  arrived 
here  early  and  leave  to-morrow."  And  I  am  jealous  of  Wick- 
off and,  in  a  bachelor's  way,  in  love  with  Fanny. 

July  28  M.  de  Bacourt  was  in  New  York  City  again.  Went 
out  to  walk  about  the  streets.  "Met  a  procession  of  a  thous- 
and Democrats,  yelling  furiously  and  obstructing  the  streets. 
Escaped  toward  the  Battery  to  enjoy  the  sunset,  and  there  saw 
several  men  dressed  like  gentlemen — all  the  men  are  equally 
well  dressed  here — engaging  in  a  free  fight,  tearing  each  other's 
hair  and  fighting  like  porters."  He  "  hurried  away  from  the 
brutal  spectacle,"  despaired  of  American  Democracy.  Here  is 
a  very  different  ray  of  light:  "The  more  intimately  I  am  thrown 
with  the  Americans  the  more  difficult  I  find  it  to  judge  them. 
The  American  of  the  North — he  who  is  called  Yankee — has  the 
English  type,  together  with  the  cunning  and  skill  of  the  Jew, 
making  the  Yankee  a  being  apart.  The  Yankees  are  English 
at  heart,  spite  of  the  contempt  they  profess  for  them.     The 


92  THE  GLOBE. 

South  sympathizes  more  ^ith  the  French,  but  are  less  civilized. 
In  my  opinion,  the  West  will  be  called  upon  to  play  the  prin- 
cipal role  in  the  United  States.  Some  years  from  now  they 
will  dominate  the  two-other  sections."  So  M.  de  Bacourt  had 
larger  insight  now  and  then.  In  New  York,  August  it,  Mr. 
Wickoff  called  on  our  diplomat  to  say  that  Fanny  Elssler 
wished  to  see  him.  "  I  went  and  found  her  having  herself  paint- 
ed." From  New  York  he  wrote:  "1  have  seen  Madame  Je- 
rome Bonaparte — Miss  Patterson — a  large,  fat  woman.  She 
looks  like  a  plaster  model  in  a  studio  enlarged." 

In  September,  1840,  M.  de  Bacourt  was  in  Boston.  He 
thought  things  much  better  there  than  in  other  places.  But  in 
this  book  Harvard  College  is  called  Howard  College,  and  Bun- 
ker Hill  is  called  Bunker's  Hise.  Of  course,  these  are  only 
typographical  errors.  Same  month  he  was  back  in  Philadel- 
phia again;  was  now  and  again  at  Madame  Cigogne's  house, 
which  was  elegant,  and  the  society  select;  and  it  seemed  very 
curious  to  him  to  see  a  mistress  of  a  boarding  school  holding 
such  a  posinon.  He  found  that  the  Philadelphia  ladies' gath- 
ered at  Madame  Cigogne's  were  "  not  at  all  prudish."  He 
thought  our  old  market  on  High  Street  superb,  but  he  could 
not  get  used  to  seeing  "well-dressed  men  carrying  vegetables 
in  a  handkerchief  in  one  hand  and  a  leg  of  mutton  in  the  other. 

On  the  whole,  he  liked  Philadelphia  better  than  any  other 
place  in  this  country.  He  visited  our  cemeteries,  the  Alms- 
house and  House  of  Refuge,  and  of  the  latter  wrote  home  that 
"  they  reform  boys  and  girls  under  eighteen  years  old  with  great 
success."  In  Washington,  again,  in  October,  he  was  disgusted 
with  the  shabby  condition  in  which  he  found  Mount  Vernon, 
and  has  some  sound  sense  on  the  genius  of  Washington.  He 
liked  Vap  Buren  and  was  sorry  for  his  defeat.  In  commenting 
on  the  successful  Whig  party  ("which  is  called  that  of  the  aris- 
tocracy— my  God,  what  aristocracy!")  he  predicted  that  it 
would  split  as  soon  as  it  came  into  power;  and  he  is  not  at  all 
complimentary  to  "the  Hero  o^  Tippecanoe."  In  fact,  the 
Whig  victory  appeared  to  convince  him  afresh  that  constitu- 
tional institutions  were  "only  a  special  phase  of  human  folly." 

M.  de  Bacourt  had  his  opinion  of  Mr.  Forsyth,  Secretary  of 
State,  whom  he  invited  to  dinner,  and  yho  sent  a  regret  just  as 
the  party  were  sitting  down  to  dinnerfi'lffter  waiting  more  than 


SOUVENIRS  OF  A  DIPLOMAT.  93 

a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  him.  In  December,  1840,  our  diplomat 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Calhoun,  who  is  described  in 
this  book  as  "  the  leader  of  a  party  called  Muliifiers,"  Of  Miss 
Mason,  the  acknowledged  beauty  of  Washington  at  that  day, 
he  says  she  was  a  "tall,  light  blonde,  of  regular  features,  but 
dressed  like  a  doll,  such  as  you  see  at  the  fairs  in  the  provinces 
sold  at  thirty-five  cents." 

January  21,  1841,  M.  de  Bacourt  dined  with  the  Austrian 
Minister,  and  met  "the  celebrated  Mr.  Webster,"  whom  he  de- 
scribes as  "pompous  to  the  last  degree  and  ill  at  ease."  "As  to 
Mr.  Clay,  he  is  of  another  type — that  of  a  gentleman  farmer." 
And  Mrs.  General  Gaines  "is  a  little  woman,  frightfully  ugly, 
with  a  red  face  covered  with  blotches."  Again,  at  the  White 
House,  now  March  10,  1841,  he  saw  Mr.  Webster,  who,  "as  new 
Secretary  of  State,  wds  very  awkward  in  his  functions."  Plain- 
ly, Mr.  Webster  was  not  a  favorite.  October  12,  was  again  in 
Philadelphia,  and  went  to  see  the  house  M.  de  Talleyrand  lived 
in  while  here.  "  It  is  on  North  Third  Street,  faimg  the  City 
Hotel."  ^^• 

January  12,  M.  de  Bacourt  dined  with  President  Tyler  and 
"forty  men — no  women;  was  placed  between  Mr.  Spencer  and 
Mr.  Webster.  The  latter  forgot  his  contraband  dignity,  with 
which  he  usually  conceals  his  sad  mediocrity.  The  Madeira 
wine,  of  which  he  drank  entirely  too  much,  made  him  not  only 
amiable — I  mean  in  the  American  sense— but  most  tenderly 
affectionate.  He  took  my  arms, with  both  hands  and  said:  'My 
dear  Bacourt,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  to-night — more  so  than 
I  have  felt  at  any  other  time;  I  do  not  know  why !  '  Perhaps  I 
have  not  been  as  friendly  with  you  as  I  ought  to  have  been, 
but,  if  you  are  willing,  we  will  become  bosom  friends.  You 
will  find  me  a  good  companion;  come  and  seeMne  every  day, 
without  ceremony — it  will  give  me  great  pleas\ije,  my  dear  Ba- 
court, for,  really,  I  think  you  are  charming' — this  with  a  drunk- 
en stammer  and  with  hiccouajKs,  which  made  it  very  disagree- 
able to  be  near  this  Ministjp'of  Foreign  Affairs."  And  our 
great  Webster  so  described!  *^M.  Bacourt  was  no  better  pleased 
at  leaving  when  all  the  American  ladies  declared  it  too  bad 
that  he  should  go  "wi^out  taking  an  American  wife."  And 
this  "gives  yoy  an  id^^^f  American  taste"  thirty-three  years 
ago.     "  Keep  yourselvelwom  idols."  W.  H.  Thorne. 


LOVE'S  DIVINITY. 


O  Love,  thou  art  divine  in  any  mood  ; 

In  far  creations  of  the  worlds,  the  stars, 

Whose  silver  beams  and  flowers  are  as  bars 

Of  blessed  light  to  souls  misunderstood  ; 

In  kisses,  crowns  and  crosses  that  have  stood 

The  raging  winds,  the  hateful  blasts  and  scars, 

And  suble  falsehood  that  forever  mars 

The  chaste  peace  of  souls,  have  done  naught  but  good; 

And  when  thou  shinest  in  a  maiden's  eyes. 

And  tremblest  in  her  quivering  lips  would  speak 

The  deathless  blessing  they  both  give  and  seek. 

Thou  art  as  rose  at  daydawn  in  the  skies; 

Thou  art  an  angel  in  thine  own  disguise, 

And  art  the  life  of  life  that  never  dies. 


W.  H.  Thorne. 


MARTIN  LUTHER. 


•'Who  loves  not  wine,  women  and  song. 
Remains  a  fool  bis  whole  life  long." 

On  the  four  hundredth  anniversary  of  Martin  Luther's  birth 
one-half  the  Christian  world  was  ringing  with  his  praises,  build- 
ing statues  to  his  memory,  and  revering  him  as  a  prophet  and 
reformer,  while  the  other  half,  as  in  the  days  of  Leo  X,  persist- 
ed in  describing  and  despising  him  as  the  great  apostate  of  the 
sixteenth  century — a  man  who  "  gave  the  widest  scope  to  sen- 
suality by  decking  it  in  a  flimsy  cloak  of  sentimentality  and 
calling  it  a  religion."  It  is  in  this  contrast,  revealing  the  com- 
parative crudeness  and  contradiction  of  historic  judgments  and 
showing  a  great  wrong  to  be  righted  somewhere  and  somehow, 
that  the  real  interest  in  Luther's  life  is  to  be  found.  In  the 
nature  of  things  there  must  be  a  standard  of  human  character, 
at  once  broader  and  deeper  and  truer  than  that  of  any  secta- 
rian judgment,  and  beyond  question  that  will  be  eventually  ap- 
plied to  Luther  as  to  all  men.  It  is  only  fitting  that  once  in  a 
hundred  years  at  least  sorhething  should  be  done  to  set  up  this 
standard  and  sweep  the  dust  and  cobwebs  out  of  the  world's 
and  out  of  Luther's  way. 


MARTIN  LUTHER.  05 

It  is  little  to  the  point  to  say  that  Luther  is  the  same  as 
Luder  or  Lothair,  and  that  Martin's  ancestors  were  a  family 
of  hardy  peasants,  dwelling  on  the  skirts  of  the  Thuringian  for- 
est, in  the  old  Electorate  of  Saxony,  or  that  Martin  was  the 
first-born  of  seven  children,  or  that  Hans,  his  father,  was  a  suc- 
cessful miner,  who  managed  in  the  course  of  a  rugged  life  to 
make  himself  the  possessor  of  a  house  and  two  mills.  But  for 
future  purposes  of  scientific  biography  it  is  important  to  note 
that  Martin's  father  came  of  a  violent  race,  and  that  Hans  him- 
self fled  to  Eisleben  "after  slaying  a  fellow-man;"  was  a  genu- 
ine hater  of  monks  and  monasteries;  was,  in  fact,  a  pagan,  into 
whose  blood  the  forced  conversion  of  Germany  had  not  yet 
found  the  gentlest  of  ministries.  Martin  was  a  chip  of  the  old 
block;  impatient  of  restraint;  unappreciative  of  discipline,  a 
robust,  natural  boy  and  man,  in  no  way  ready  to  put  on  the 
mildly  supernatural,  except  when  scared  mto  it  in  some  unex- 
pected way. 

It  was  at  Eisleben,  November,  1483,  that  Martin  first  saw 
the  light  of  day.  That  he  was  a  tough  knot  to  mold  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that  in  later  life  he  thought  his  parents  had  treated 
him  too  harshly  in  his  boyhood.  Soon  after  Martm's  birth  the 
family  moved  to  Mansfield,  a  few  miles  from  Eisleben,  where 
the  young  Luther  went  to  school,  and  being  of  a  violent  turn 
got  lots  of  floggings — flogged  fifteen  times  in  one  forenoon,  it 
is  said.  Himself,  certainly,  not  saved  by  faith  alone.  From 
Mansfield  he  was  sent  to  still  better  schools  at  Madgeburg  and 
Eisenach,  and  from  the  latter  to  Erfurt  University,  where  he 
was  to  prepare  for  the  practice  of  law.  Returning  to  Erfurt 
from  a  visit  home  in  1505,  age  22,  Martin  was  frightened  by  a 
flash  of  lightning,  prayed  to  Holy  Anna,  Mother  of  the  Virgin, 
and  vowed  to  become  a  monk.  Next  day  repented  of  his  vow, 
Jest  his  father,  Hans,  should  be  displeased.  This  was  very 
typical  of  all  that  came  afterward.  At  Erfurt  he  had  found 
professors  imbued  with  the  doctrines  of  Wickliffe  and  Huss, 
and  had  already  seen  a  complete  printed  Bible.  True  to  his 
vow,  Luther  applied  for  admission  and  entered  the  Augustin- 
ian  convent,  renouncing  his  insignia  as  master,  and  resisting 
the  entreaties  of  his  father.  At  the  convent  he  had  a  turbid 
time  of  it.  The  flesh  would  not  down.  He  often  passed  from 
the  depths  of  despair  to  the  heights  of  presumption,  but  finally 


96  THE  GLOBE. 

got  it  well  fixed  in  his  mind  that  he  was  justified  by  the  merits  of 
Christ  alone  and,  by  the  force  of  this  conviction,  one  of  the  elect. 

On  the  2d  of  May,  1507,  Luther  was  ordained  a  priest,  and 
for  a  time  traveled  from  village  to  village  and  said  mass.  About 
the  year  1509  he  went  to  the  University  at  Wittenberg,  to  lec- 
ture on  philosophy.  And  here  again  the  untamed  nature  of 
the  man  asserted  itself.  He  hated  the  Aristotelian  philosophy 
and  the  whole  system  of  the  schoolmen.  His  lectures  were 
brilliant  attacks  on  the  very  philosophy  he  was  called  to  teach, 
and  he  soon  became  popular,  especially  with  the  anti-Church 
people  of  the  beer-drinking  town.  Germany  had  never  been 
heartily  attached  to  the  Holy  See,  and  it  is  now  everywhere 
seen  that  in  Luther's  day  the  country  was  ripe  for  what  Catho- 
lics call  a  Pagan  revival  and  what  Protestants  call  the  great 
Reformation. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  15 17  John  Tetzel,  a  Domini- 
can friar,  reached  Juterback,  a  town  within  a  few  miles  of  Wit- 
tenberg, and  preached  as  missionary  in  the  Jubilee,  granted  by 
Leo  X.  in  which  the  alms  were  to  be  devoted  to  the  erection  of 
St.  Peter's,  at  Rome.  Crowds  gathered  to  hear  Tetzel.  Luth- 
er felt  the  fight  rising  in  him,  and  announced  that  he  would 
preach  on  indulgences.  In  his  sermon  he  denied  that  anything 
beyond  contrition  was  needed  for  the  remission  of  sin — in  a 
word,  opposed  the  long-settled  doctrine  of  the  Church  on  that 
point — and  when  Tetzel  replied,  showing  that  he  stood  on 
Catholic  ground,  Luther  retorted,  with  natural  vehemence:  "I 
laugh  at  your  words  as  I  do  at  the  braying  of  an  ass;  instead  of 
water,  I  recommend  to  you  the  juice  of  the  grape,  and  instead 
of  fire,  inhale,  my  friend,  the  smell  of  a  roast  goose.  I  am  at 
Wittenberg.  I,  Doctor  Martin  Luther,  make  it  known  to  all 
inquisitors  of  the  faith,  bullies  and  rock-splitters,  that  I  enjoy 
here  abundant  hospitality,  an  open  house,  a  well-supplied  table, 
and  marked  attention,  thanks  to  the  liberality  of  our  Duke  and 
Prince,  the  Elector  of  Saxony." 

From  that  time  on,  though  he  tried  to  be  orthodox,  and  in 
his  best  moments  wanted  to  be  loyal  to  the  Pope,  he  really 
leaned  on  the  Elector  of  Saxony  and  tacitly  admitted  his  pa- 
ganism by  putting  the  temporal  above  the  spiritual  power. 
His  enemies  do  not  find  it  difficult  to  show  that,  swayed  by 
these  motives,  Luther  often  played  a  double  game. 


AfAR  TIN  L  UTHER.  97 

On  October  31  of  this  same  year,  15 17,  Luther,  being  then 
34  years  old,  fixed  ninety-five  theses  on  the  door  of  Wittenberg 
Church,  calling  in  question  the  Papal  theory  of  indulgences  and 
the  Pope's  right  to  sell  them.  Luther  was  still  a  Catholic 
priest,  and  in  view  of  the  prospect  of  having  to  answer  to  the 
Pope  for  his  objectionable  teachings,  he  wrote  Leo  X,  among 
other  things:  "  Wherefore,  most  blessed  Father,  I  offer  myself 
prostrate  at  the  feet  of  thy  Holiness,  with  all  that  I  am  and 
have;  quicken,  slay,  call, recall,  approve,  reprove,  as  shall  please 
thee,  I  recognize  thy  voice  as  that  of  Christ,  abiding  and  speak- 
ing in  thee.  If  I  deserve  death,  I  do  not  refuse  to  die."  But 
for  all  that  it  is  clear  that  Luther  took  the  best  care  of  his  life, 
and  at  the  notable  Diet  of  Worms  he  knew  very  well  that  he 
was  safe  under  the  protection  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony.  When 
he  appeared  before  Cardinal  Cajetan,  the  legate  presented  two 
errors  that  Luther  had  taught:  First,  "that  the  merits  of  Christ 
are  not  the  treasure  of  indulgences;"  second,  "that  faith  alone 
is  sufficient  for  justification."  Luther  tried  to  modify  his  ex- 
pressions, but  could  not  retract,  and  really  the  battle  of  Christ- 
endom is  still  fighting  itself  out  over  the  gulf  that  Luther  made. 
The  Universities  of  Basle,  Freiburg,  Louvain  and  Paris,  to  which 
he  had  appealed,  conciemned  him;  and  on  June  15,  1520,  Leo 
X  issued  the  famous  bull  which  condemned  his  writings,  and 
excommunicated  him,  if  he  did  not  retract  before  the  lapse  of 
sixty  days.     He  did  not  retract. 

In  setting  out  to  form  Protestantism  Luther  soon  found  that 
the  doctrines  he  preached  were  interpreted  by  other  teachers 
in  a  manner  utterly  opposed  to  his  notions.  Of  these  in  gener- 
al he  said  that  they  ought  to  be  choked  like  mad  dogs.  To- 
ward the  Jews  he  was  inclined  to  show  little  less  mercy.  In 
fact,  he  only  changed  masters.  He  admitted  that  he  did  away 
with  the  mass  at  the  compulsion  of  the  civil  power.  And  when, 
finally,  at  the  Diet  of  Augsburg,  Protestantism  was  called  upon 
to  formulate  its  faith,  it  is  claimed  that  Luther  sank  to  a  sec- 
ondary place. 

With  all  charity  and  without  condemnation,  it  can  be  said 
that  from  the  outset  Luther  found  his  human  nature  too  much 
for  him.  In  his  blunt,  honest  way  he  had  frequently  declared 
that  man  could  not  live  without  woman.  He  had  encouraged 
monks,  priests  and  nuns  to  marry.     And  when  Spolatinus  once 


06  THE    GLOBE. 

urged  him  to  marry  he  replied  that  he  had  had  four  wives  and 
that  they  had  married  three  away  from  him,  and  that  he  held 
the  fourth  only  with  the  left  hand.  While  the  civil  power  was 
endeavoring  to  buildup  what  he  had  leveled  and  make  relig- 
ion a  part  of  the  State  police,  Luther  lived  in  comparative  re- 
tirement with  the  nun,  Catharine  Bora,  whom  he  had  married 
in  1525,  and  the  family  that  grew  up  around  them,  studying 
and  working,  relaxing  to  enjoy  music  or  potations  with  his 
friends,  pouring  out  the  strange  medley  of  table-talk,  which 
his  admirers  noted  down  and  preserved  for  the  amazement  of 
future  ages. 

His  translation  of  the  Bible  into  German  was  really  the 
greatest  work  of  his  life.  It  gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  native 
language  and  literature.  But  when  Luther  came  to  apply  his 
independent  judgment  to  the  Scriptures,  he  made  sad  havoc 
with  the  notion  of  their  infallibility.  Of  the  Pentateuch  he 
said:  ''We  have  no  wish  either  to  see  or  hear  Moses."  He 
wished  that  the  book  of  Esther  did  not  exist,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  considered  the  epistle  to  St.  James  "  an  epistle 
of  straw."  He  felt  an  aversion  for  the  Apocalypse,  and  con- 
sidered that  feeling  sufficient  ground  for  rejecting  the  book. 
It  was  jolly  courageous,  boastful  soul,  with  a  heap  more  of  Bis- 
marck and  beer  in  him  than  of  humility  or  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  and  the  day  of  finally  reckoning  up  the  results  of  his 
strong  life  has  not  yet  fully  come.  In  his  pluck,  good  sense 
and  loyalty  to  conviction,  he  was,  no  doubt,  worthy  of  much  of 
the  honor  he  has  won;  but  as  between  Lutherianism,  pure  and 
simple,  and  historic  Catholicism,  philosophers  and  the  future 
will  have  lots  to  say  on  both  sides. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 

GLOBE  NOTES. 


Readers  of  The  Globe  have  grown  to  expect  unusual 
plainness  of  speech  in  this  department  of  the  review;  and  I  look 
upon  it  as  an  indication  of  the  inherent  soundness  of  a  good  frac- 
tion of  the  human  heart  that  so  many  compliments  have  come 
to  me  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  touching  this  part  of  my 
work.  I  aim  here  especially  to  speak  the  unvarnished  truth, 
but  still  to  deal  fairly  with  all  classes  of  subjects  and  men. 
Time  and  again  I  have  received  letters,  sometimes  from  friends 


GLOBE  NOTES.  99 

and  acquaintances,  but  just  as  frequently  from  utter  strangers, 
saying  that  they  always  read  The  Globe  Notes  first,  and  so 
whet  their  appetites  for  the  other  parts  of  the  magazine. 

I  think  that  one  of  the  most  compiimentary  and  at  the  same 
time  one  of  the  truest  things  written  me  since  The  Globe  was 
founded  came  from  a  very  able  and  scholarly  New  England 
clergyman,  more  than  a  year  ago.  He  said,  in  substance:  "I 
notice  that  the  Are?ia  is  trying  to  form  a  department  after  the 
manner  of  your  Globe  Notes,  but  the  stuff  seems  all  the  more 
emasculated  from  the  fact  that  it  is  so  plainly  an  attempt  at 
imitation,"  bearing  about  the  relation  to  Globe  Notes  that  a 
heap  of  cast-out  rotten  apples  bear  to  a  couple  of  baskets  of 
sound  Bellflowers  or  Baldwins. 

I  could  go  on  multiplying  this  sort  of  comment  till  the 
pages  allotted  to  Globe  Notes  were  filled,  but  it  is  better  now 
and  then  to  give  ear  to  the  words  of  our  enemies.  The  Globe 
No.  8,  called  forth  more  general  comment  and  brought  me  more 
personal  letters  of  appreciation  than  any  previous  number;  but 
as  I  have  referred  to  several  of  these  in  the  article  Cosmotheism 
versus  Catholicism,  and  as  there  were  no  Globe  Notes  in  No.  8, 
I  have  been  saving  two  or  three  able  critiques  of  No.  7  for  a 
passing  comment  in  No.  9. 

The  shortest  article  in  The  Globe  No.  7  was  the  one  on  Mr. 
Lowell — not  more  than  a  page,  I  think,  distinctly  on  Lowell — 
yet  that  poor  page,  written  just  before  The  Globe  was  going 
to  press,  seemed  to  anger  and  delight  more  people  than  all  the 
rest  of  the  magazine.  As  I  was  a  good  deal  in  New  England 
after  the  issue  of  No.  7,  I  had  to  meet  considerable  of  this  in  a 
personal  way;  but  to  my  surprise  vzry  many  cultured  New  Eng- 
land people  said  to  me,  in  substance:  "Do you  know,  Mr.  Thorne, 
we  have  long  thought  just  about  what  you  said  of  Mr.  Lowell, 
but  hardly  dared  to  think  it,  much  less  to  utter  such  senti- 
ments." Such  is  the  soul  "Emancipation  of  Massachusetts" 
and  other  sections  of  the  Puritan  Commonwealths.  Since  this 
was  written  the  New  England  Magazine ,  in  the  only  department 
it  has  that  is  worth  reading,  has  taken  very  much  The  Globe's 
position  regarding  the  poets  of  New  England. 

Of  course,  such  journals  as  the  New  York  Critic,  run  by 
nusery-maids,  and  the  Boston  Literary  World,  run  by  parties 
who,  for  a  dozen  years,  have  been  trying  to  ape  the  London 
AthencEum,  without  brains  or  culture  enough  in  a  year  to  fill  one 


100  THE  GLOBE. 

single  weekly  issue  of  the  London  journal — of  course,  such  pa- 
pers, whose  life-blood  and  business  it  is  to  write  Normal-school 
book  reviews  in  sickly  praise  of  contemptible  publications  and 
to  draw  their  pay  for  this  kitten-like  purring — of  course,  I  say, 
such  papers,  whose  standards  of  literature  are  dictated  to  them 
by  the  advertising  managers  of  the  large  publishing  houses,  or 
learned  at  the  dinners  of  the  Boston  Hasty-Pudding  Club,  or 
at  the  Soroses  of  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  &  Co. — (I  mean  no 
disrespect  to  this  worthy  lady) — such  papers — whose  editors 
do  not  know  enough  of  the  higher  literature  of  the  world  to  de- 
tect a  fifth-class  verse-maker  when  they  meet  him  or  her — had 
and  have  only  gushing  praise  for  James  Russell  Lowell  as  at 
least  one  of  the  "  Great  Poets  of  America." 

But,  in  the  name  of  God  Almighty's  truth,  America  has  no 
great  poets,  except,  perhaps,  Mrs.  Wheeler  Wilcox  and  a  few 
other  school-girls,  and  never  will  have  till  its  moral  and  spirit- 
ual and  intellectual  standards  of  culture  are  higher  and  purer 
than  they  are  to-day. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe,  Sidney  Lanier  and  Richard  Realf  were 
great  poets  in  the  making,  but  they  were  all  practically  mur- 
dered before  they  were  born,  and  slowly  tortured  to  death 
afterward  by  the  sweet,  appreciative  genius  of  our  American 
civilization,  which — G.  W.  Childs-like — always  waits  for  a  gen- 
ius to  die,  helps  to  kick  and  stab  him  to  death,  and  then,  like 
the  godless,  accursed  Jews  of  old,  proceeds  to  build  a  monu- 
ment over  his  grave.  Of  the  three  poets  mentioned,  Realf  was 
by  all  odds  the  greatest,  and  he  was  an  Englishman,  who  died 
a  dozen  deaths  to  save  this  nation  from  the  curse  of  its  old  pet 
— African  slavery — before  he  was  hounded  to  death  by  its  oth- 
er and  newer  pet — respectable  prostitution. 

I  frankly  admit  that  the  severe  criticisms  of  Mr.  Lowell  and 
Mr.  Bancroft  in  The  Globe  No,  7,  though  true,  and  express- 
ing my  profound  and  long-built-up  convictions,  were  the  oppo- 
site extreme  of  truth,  in  contrast  with  the  fulsome  plaudits  con- 
stantly flung  at  the  feet  of  these  industrious,  mediocre  gentle- 
men by  the  popular  writers  of  the  day.  And  I  put  the  severe 
truth,  as  strongly  as  possible,  to  sharpen  the  contrast  and  bring 
the  groundlings  up  a  notch  or  two  in  their  own  consciousness, 
if  that  were  possible. 


GLOBE  NOTES.  101 

way  and  another,  during  these  last  two  years,  expressed  to  me 
no  little  anxiety  as  to  the  general  prosperity  and  continuance 
of  The  GLOaE.  And  I  suppose  I  am  somewhat  responsible  for 
this  feeling  of  uncertainty,  because  I  have,  at  different  times 
suggested  that  my  own  health  was  precarious,  and  also  that 
The  Globe  had  not,  so  far,  any  gold  mine  or  millionaire  bank 
account  to  fall  back  upon.  But  even  modern  reviews  and  re- 
viewers do  not  live  by  bread  alone. 

I  was  brought  to  my  senses  regarding  the  folly  of  provok- 
ing this  uncertainty  when,  early  last  February,  I  received  a  let- 
ter from  an  ex-Presbyterian  clergyman,  of  Philadelphia,  refus- 
ing to  renew  his  subscription,  on  the  ground  that  he  did  not 
consider  it  any  compliment  to  me  to  encourage  a  forlorn  hope. 
If  I  did  not  feel  perfectly  sure  of  my  ground,  of  course  I  should 
not  quote  or  refer  to  such  a  letter.  In  truth,  the  absurdity  and 
falsehood  of  the  gentleman's  refusal  prompted  me  at  once  to 
write  him  in  reply — not  in  solicitation — that  so  far  from  being 
a  forlorn  hope  The  Globe  would  live  and  be  a  blessing  of  God 
to  countless  thousands  of  human  souls,  when  he  and  his  teach- 
ings in  favor  of  easy  divorce,  mortality  without  religion,  and 
life  without  God  or  Christ  Jesus  would  all  have  become  forgot- 
ten dust  and  ashes,  blown  hellward  by  the  natural  winds  of  new 
forms  of  atheism  yet  to  be.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  con- 
tinue to  read  The  Globe,  and  I  think,  more  than  likely  that  he 
will  double  his  subscription  for  this  year.  And  I  say  right 
here  to  all  those  anxious,  gossiping  persons  who  are  forever 
minding  other  people's  business  more  than  their  own,  that  if 
they  and  the  thousands  of  others  like  them  who  read  The 
Globe  and  enjoy  it,  and  confessedly  profit  by  it,  would  only  up 
and  pay  their  subscriptions  like  honest  men  and  women,  that 
would  be  a  great  deal  better  for  their  morals  and  for  the  com- 
fort of  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  The  Globe  than  for  them 
to  gossip  and  wonder  whether  it  will  succeed  or  not. 

On  this  direct  question  I  have  to  say  that  The  Globe  has  suc- 
ceeded from  the  start.  From  the  month  of  October,  1889.  when, 
without  capital  and  in  poor  health,  and  with  a  thousand  odds 
against  me  in  the  very  city  where  I  founded  The  Globe,  it  has 
paid  its  own  expenses,  and  besides,  of  course,  by  my  untold  la- 
bors, has  earned  for  me  a  modest  living. 

No  other  magazine  in  the  United  States  has  ever  done  this 
the  first  year  or  the  first  two  years.    The  Globe  to-day  is  read 


102  THE  GLOBE 

by  more  thousands  of  intelligent  people  than  any  other  high- 
class  review  in  the  country.  Its  subscription  list  is  constantly 
increasing,  slowly,  but  surely.  It  is  known  and  appreciated  as 
thoroughly  in  California  and  Maine  as  it  is  in  Pennsylvania.  It 
is  an  expensive  magazine,  and  a  large  share  of  its  earnings — 
that  is  of  my  earnings — goes  to  pay  the  printers  and  to  meet 
the  thousand  and  one  expenses  that  publishers  of  magazines 
are  only  too  familiar  with. 

The  Boston  Public  Library,  the  Chicago  Public  Library,  the 
Milwaukee  Public  Library,  the  Denver  Public  Library,  the  Li- 
brary of  the  British  Museum,  London,  the  Union  League  and 
the  Art  Club  of  Philadelphia  are  among  the  many  representa- 
tive libraries  and  public  resorts  of  thinking  men  and  women 
that  have  subscribed  for  The  Globe  from  its  first  number  until 
now;  and  scores  of  other  leading  libraries  and  public  institu- 
tions of  a  similar  character  in  the  United  States  and  in  Great 
Britain  have  received  The  Globe  from  the  start  as  a  gift  from 
me,  and  are  constantly  writing  me  cards  of  thanks  for  and  ap- 
preciation of  The  Glose;  they  give  it  a  good  place;  have  its 
numbers  bound  into  volumes,  etc.,  but  are  not  yet  quite  ready 
to  subscribe,  and  new  subscriptions  are  coming  from  libraries 
as  well  as  from  individuals. 

Again,  I  say,  there  is  no  magazine  in  the  United  States  that 
has  ever  done  such  work;  and  the  only  reason  under  heaven 
that  such  syndicate  scribblers  as  Mr.  Bok,  of  Philadelphia,  and 
the  Philadelphia  chick  who  scratches  for  the  Literary  World  do 
hot  say  more  about  The  Globe  and  its  prosperity  than  they  do 
say  about  the  enormous  expenditures  of  Scribners,  Tlie  Forum, 
The  Cosmopolitan,  etc.,  and  the  Walt  Whitman  bosh  in  Lippin- 
cotfs,  is  that  The  Globe  has  no  padded  bank  account  on  which 
to  draw  for  the  benefit  of  such  scribblers.  But  the  world  takes 
all  things  for  their  true  value  by-and-by,  and  there  is  no  im- 
mediate danger  that  the  old-fashioned  ditty  of 

"  Dickery,  dickery  dock, 
The  mouse  ran  up  the  clock  ; 
The  clock  struck  one,  and  the  mouse  ran  down — 
Dickery,  dickery  dock." 

I  say  that,  spite  of  the  cant  and  clap-trap  of  newspaper  syn- 
dicates, all  needed  to  meet  the  craving  for  cant  and  clap-trap 
in  the  popular  mind,  and  spite  of  the  fact  that  mammon  rules 


GLOBE  NOTES.  103 

Still  many  intelligent  persons  in  this  world  who  know  a  hawk 
from  a  hand-saw,  a  man  of  thought  and  power  from  a  hack  re- 
porter, escaped  from  his  calling  and  gone  to  editing  a  journal 
for  servant-maids  and  sickly,  sentimental  women,  and  they  are 
not  likely  to  mistake  the  "dickery-dickery-dock"  business,  for 
Sermons  on  the  Mount,  or  for  literature  in  any  serious  sense  of 
the  word. 

I  have  nothing  against  Mr.  Bok,  except  that  he,  and  the 
stuff  he  writes,  and  the  hacks  he  praises,  and  the  people  he 
panders  to,  were  ever  born  or  allowed  to  be  thought  of  as  liter- 
ary people,  in  any  sense  whatever.  I  do  not  know  the  gentle- 
man personally,  and  never  want  to,  unless  he  should  "  tack  a 
thought,  and  mend."  Mr.  Bok  has  come  into  these  Globe 
Notes,  at  all,  only  because  of  certain  figures  of  his,  in  a  recent 
syndicate  letter,  relative  to  the  great  expenditures  and  losses 
incident  to  founding  a  magazine  in  these  days.  The  losses  are, 
as  he  puts  them,  pretty  nearly;  and  I  could  give  the  history  of 
other  magazines,  now  paying  well  enough,  through  good  sup- 
plies of  garbage,  but  on  which  the  losses,  from  8io,COO  to  S15,- 
000  a  year,  were  continued  through  a  series  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
years;  but  these  losses  are  the  result  of  one  of  two  things — 
either  of  ignorance  and  spendthriftism  on  the  part  of  the  busi- 
ness management,  or  incompetency  on  the  part  of  the  edito- 
rial management,  or  of  both.  The  editor  of  The  Globe  had, 
many  years  ago,  more  experiences  of  both  lines  than  Mr.  Bok 
is  likely  to  attain  in  a  dozen  years;  and  hence,  having  put  my 
experience  and  my  best  work  and  best  thought,  without  stint, 
into  The  Globe,  it  has  succeeded  without  great  losses  and  with- 
out great  capital  back  of  it. 

Every  now  and  then  I  hear  men  say  that  you  cannot  start  a 
business  of  any  kind  in  these  days  without  enormous  capital 
back  of  you.  The  Hon.  Postmaster-General  of  the  United 
States,  a  Mr.  Curtis  himself,  the  head  of  the  Ladies'  Home  jfour- 
nal,  could  give  Mr.  Bok  points  in  refutation  of  that  lie,  if  they 
were  so  inclined.  But  men  have  grown  to  dissociate  poverty 
and  power,  though  they  were  of  old,  and  are  still,  the  twin  lev- 
er and  fulcrum  that  move  the  world.  Recent  occurences  seem 
to  have  made  it  worth  while  for  me  to  say  again  that  the  editor 
of  The  Globe  is  also  sole  owner  and  proprietor  of  The  Globe. 

As  The  Globe  has  undertaken  to  fight  atheism,  mammon- 
ism,  falsehood,  ignorance  and  incompetency  in  all  departments 


104  THE  GLOBE. 

of  Church,  State,  literature  and  social  lite,  it  can  hardly  expect 
to  go  unscathed.  But,  so  far,  it  has  held  its  own  and  prospered, 
as  I  have  said.  Send  in  your  subscriptions — that  is  the  way 
to  insure  The  Globe's  continued  prosperity. 

While  visiting  friends  at  Northeast  Harbor,  Mount  Desert, 
Me.,  last  autumn,  I  was  invited  to  preach  in  the  Congregation- 
al Church  in  the  town  of  Mount  Desert,  and,  after  "supplying 
the  pulpit"  two  Sundays,  was  asked  to  settle  as  minister  of  the 
church  for  one  year — to  preach  morning  and  evening.  I  ac- 
cepted the  invitation.  Soon  the  Union  Congregational  Church 
at  Northeast  Harbor  invited  me  to  preach  for  them  Sunday 
afternoons.  The  towns  are  six  miles  apart,  and  either  from  a 
severe  cold  contracted  in  driving  from  one  parish  to  the  other, 
late  in  November,  or  from  overwork  with  preaching  and  entire 
charge  of  The  Globe,  my  health  broke  so  seriously  that  I  have 
had  to  discontinue  preaching  indefinitely,  and  intend,  for  the 
present,  as  heretofore,  to  give  my  whole  time  and  strength  to 
the  work  of  editing  and  managing  The  Globe.  These  facts, 
together  with  printers'  delays,  kept  the  last  Globe  back  at 
least  a  month,  have  caused  the  delay  in  issue  of  the  present 
number,  and  may  delay  the  issue  of  No.  lo.  Send  in  your  sub- 
scriptions— that  will  make  things  easier  and  surer  every  way. 

Of  the  present  issue,  "  The  Vagaries  of  Modern  Thought," 
and  the  articles  on  Tennyson,  Swinburne,  Souvenirs  of  a  Dip- 
lomat, and  Luther,  were  written  from  four  to  nine  years  ago. 
All  the  rest  of  the  number  was  written  during  March  of  the 
present  year  As  far  as  there  is  any  difference  of  attitude  in 
these  articles  toward  theological  and  ecclesiastical  questions, 
the  papers,  written  this  year  more  nearly  represent  my  attitude 
of  recent  years.     Toward  religion  itself  I  never  change. 

W,  H.  Thorne. 

March  ji,  i8g2. 


the:  globe, 

NO.  X. 


OCTOBER,  1892. 


GLIMPSES  OF  WORLD  LITERATURE. 


Lectures  on  the  History  of  Literature,  by  Thomas  Carlyle. 
Edited,  with  Preface  and  Notes,  by  Professor  J.  Reay 
Greene.     New  York  :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1892. 

Spite  of  its  many  faults  and  imperfections,  this  voice  from  the 
dead  may  be  considered  the  ablest  book  that  has  appeared  in  the 
English  language  during  the  past  ten  years.  Thus  for  once,  I  am  in 
harmony  with  the  many-voiced  average  reviewer,  for  everywhere 
Carlyle's  History  of  Literature  has  been  heralded  as  the  wisest  of 
all  his  books.  This  it  is  not,  nor  is  it  the  best  of  his  books  in  any 
sense.  In  fact,  the  lectures,  as  they  were  originally  delivered,  were 
so  inadequate,  so  insufficient,  according  to  the  author's  own  later 
estimates,  that  this,  and  not  the  reason  given  in  Professor  Greene's 
Preface,  is  the  true  reason  why  these  lectures  were  never  published 
during  Carlyle's  lifetime. 

Not  only  were  the  original  lectures  very  inadequate,  but  to  call 
them  at  this  date  a  history  of  literature,  is  to  stretch  the  title  fer 
beyond  the  original  intent  of  their  great  author.  They  were 
never  meant  for  anything  but  lectures  on  the  history  of  literature ; 
talks,  so  to  speak,  on  the  salient  points  of  world  literature ;  and  in 
this  light  alone  they  should  be  judged.  Thus  viewed,  and  not- 
withstanding the  palpable  fact  that  the  lectures  as  now  printed  are 
in  no  exact  sense  a  transcript  of  Carlyle's  exact  thoughts  or  words, 
the  book,  as  it  stands,  is  one  of  the  best  books  of  the  century,  and 
8 


102  THE  GLOBE. 

if  one  wishes  to  get  the  intellectual  altitude  of  Carlyle  as  compared 
with  that  of  any  other  Englishman,  Frenchman,  or  German  dab- 
bling in  world  literature  during  the  year  1838,  he  has  but  to  study 
this  book  in  comparison  with  any  other  history  of  literature  of  that 
period.  And  now  that  Carlyle  is  dead,  and  all  the  world,  except  a 
few  disgruntled  women  and  a  few  patchwork-men,  has  forgotten 
and  forgiven  his  dyspepsia,  and  the  miserable  life  his  wife  drove 
him  to,  the  great  and  inimitable  genius  of  the  man  finds  a  new, 
world-wide,  roseate  adoration.  I  should  be  the  last  to  ques- 
tion this.  I  do  not  question  it.  I  simply  wish  to  speak  the  truth 
in  regard  to  this  book,  and  to  suggest  to  critics  in  general  and  the 
world  at  large  that  should  they  ever  again  find  anything  in  mod- 
ern life  and  literature  half  as  great  and  worthy  as  Carlyle,  they 
had  better  drop  their  contemptible  sneering  and  fault-finding  and 
worship  a  little,  as  becomes  the  underlings  of  this  world.  If  re- 
sponses should  arise  from  this  to  the  effect  that  I  had  better  mind 
my  own  gospel,  my  reply  is,  that  the  world  knows  my  estimate  of 
Carlyle.  I  do  not  need  to  prove  my  love  or  admiration.  Indeed, 
I  am  writing  this  notice  mainly  to  explain  and  guard  against  the 
overexpectation  raised  by  the  average  critic,  to  point  out  the  true 
merits  of  the  book,  and  especially  to  call  attention  to  the  remark- 
able value  of  the  notes  of  the  editor. 

Professor  Greene  touches  upon  these  points  in  his  Preface,  but 
in  a  manner  not  wholly  satisfactory.  He  says,  "  Carlyle's  French 
Revolution^  acknowledged  to  be  one  of  the  best  and  most  individ- 
ual of  his  books,  is  not  so  much  a  history  of  that  great  chain  of 
events  as  an  apt  selection  of  striking  episodes,  together  with  a  run- 
ning comment  on  other  histories,  and  on  the  lessons  which  revolu- 
tions should  teach.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  lectures  before 
us.  They  do  not  constitute  a  manual,"  etc.  So  we  are  led  to  sup- 
pose that  the  French  Revolution  is  the  most  characteristic  of  Car- 
lyle's books,  and  that,  in  certain  senses,  "  the  same  may  be  said  of 
the  lectures  before  us."  But  all  this  requires  conditioning  and 
illucidating. 

All  well-informed  readers  know  that  the  manuscript  of  the 
French  Revolution,  as  Carlyle  first  wrote  it,  was  loaned  to  J.  S. 
Mill  for  perusal,  that  he  intrusted  it  to  his  Platonic  Mrs.  Taylor, 
that  she  left  it  where  her  servant  could  readily  find  it  and  use  it 
for  kindling  paper,  that  Bridget  did  so  use  it,  and  that  it  was 
burned ;  one  of  the  rarest  bundles  of  waste  paper  ever  maliciously 


GLIMPSES  OF  WORLD  LITERATURE.  103 

or  foolishly  burnt  in  this  world ;  hence,  that  the  French  Revolution^ 
as  we  have  it,  is,  so  to  speak,  a  recollection  of  tongues  of  flame  that 
had  already  spent  themselves ;  a  piece  of  work  done,  as  it  were, 
at  white  heat  of  unutterable  madness;  a  series  of  inimitable, 
quick  etching  of  episodes,  never  again  to  be  described  as  they 
were  described,  in  due  order  and  relationship,  in  Carlyle's  first 
master-strokes  on  this  theme. 

If  any  man  has  ever  had  a  choice  manuscript  destroyed,  before 
even  a  first  proof  had  been  gotten  from  the  printers,  and  then  has 
tried  to  do  his  first  work  over  again,  he  will  know  what  a  blow 
and  what  a  blasphemy  Carlyle  endured  at  the  hands  of  J.  S.  Mill 
and  Co.,  and  he  will  also  understand  that  the  French  Revolution  is 
not  the  most  individual  of  Carlyle's  books.  With  all  his  inten- 
sity and  his  tendency  to  concentrate  on  great  points  of  his  subject, 
and  to  wander  for  illustrations  to  all  regions  of  the  universe,  Car- 
lyle was  thorough  when  he  undertook  to  be  so. 

Sartor  Reaartus  is  the  most  individual  of  his  books,  and  every 
reader  knows  how  elaborate  this  is  of  the  finest  points  that  illus- 
trate his  theme.  Again,  his  Frederick  the  Great  is  the  most  char- 
acteristic of  his  historic  works,  and  everybody  knows  how  full  it  is 
of  needed  and  careful  detail.  Read  any  of  his  literary  essays  and 
you  will  see  how  minute  the  man  was  in  his  estimates  of  literary 
men  and  their  work.  In  truth,  these  lectures  on  literature  are 
only,  to  a  very  small  extent,  characteristic  of  Carlyle,  and  they  are 
not  in  any  sense  to  be  compared  with  his  French  Revolution,  even 
as  it  stands  to-day.  With  all  its  misfortunes,  his  French  Revolution 
is  a  masterpiece  of  flash-light  composition — a  prose  poem,  so  to 
speak,  written  in  blood  and  tears — unshed  tears.  His  lectures  on 
literature,  as  we  have  them,  are  the  least  individual  and  the 
least  characteristic  of  all  his  work.  In  fact,  they  bear  evidence 
of  the  truth,  that  even  as  they  were  delivered,  they  were  more 
stilted  and  perfunctory,  and  given  more  with  the  view  of  earning 
money  than  anything  else  we  have  from  his  tongue  or  pen. 
But,  spite  of  all  this,  they  are  characteristic  of  Carlyle,  for  the 
greatness  of  mind  revealed  in  them,  for  the  comprehensive  grasp 
of  the  vast  relationships  of  the  themes  treated,  and  here  and  there 
for  stupendous  sentences,  where  Mr.  Anstey  caught  not  only  the 
thought,  but  the  words  and  the  spirit  of  their  great  author. 

Many  readers  may  like  these  lectures  better  by  reason  of  the 
comparative  absence  of  the  commanding  individuality  of  Carlyle ; 


104  THE  GLOBE. 

but  that  is  another  question,  and  with  these  points  as  a  guard 
against  error,  we  may  go  on  with  our  notice. 

In  truth,  these  lectures  on  literature  bear  about  the  relation  to  a 
true  history  of  literature  that  Max  Miiller's  lectures  on  the  Science 
of  Religion  bear  to  the  true  science  of  religion.  They  are  a  set  of 
random  facts,  gathered  from  the  great  central  lights  of  the  subject 
and  flung,  as  it  were,  on  the  skies  by  the  telescopic  vision  of  a 
gifted  soul.  A  true  history  of  literature  must  get  at  its  world- 
sources  in  Egyptian,  Asiatic,  Arabic,  and  Hebrew  genius ;  show 
the  relation  of  these  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  and  modern  Euro- 
pean epochs,  which  Carlyle  barely  glances  at,  and  reproduce  the 
spirit  of  it  all  in  some  modern  work,  greater  than  any  it  describes 
or  reveals.  For  it  takes  a  god  to  know  a  god,  and  it  takes  a  world- 
genius  to  understand  and  treat  world-literature. 

I  am  not  speaking  of  a  Manual.  Any  hack  can  make  a  man- 
ual of  the  whole  affair,  from  the  first  laconic  speeches  in  Eden  to 
Carnegie's  last  twaddle  in  our  so-called  standard  reviews.  Car- 
lyle's  lectures  are  neither  such  a  history  nor  a  manual.  We  have 
manuals  enough,  but  the  great  prose  poem  of  the  growth  and 
march  of  the  literature  of  the  world  remains  unwritten.  Beside 
it,  when  written,  the  little  affairs  of  Homer,  Virgil,  Dante,  and  the 
rest,  will  simply  take  their  places  as  conversational  epochs  in 
the  third,  fourth  or  fifth  acts  of  the  great  world-drama  of  the  on- 
marching  of  God's  incarnate  word,  which  is  the  soul  and  crown 
of  all  literatures,  past,  present,  and  to  come. 

In  the  place  of  this,  Carlyle's  lectures  begin  with  a  glance  at  the 
"  first  great  spirits  of  our  western  world,"  aptly  enough  saying 
that  we  must  find  out  what  they  thought  before  we  can  under- 
stand what  they  did.  Books  show  us  this.  And  on  the  fifth 
page  we  are  already  at  Thermopylae,  where  Leonidas  and  his 
handful  of  immortal  Greeks  held  unnumbered  hosts  of  Persians  at 
bay,  and  died.  "  But  Europe  was  ever  afterward  superior  to 
Persia."  And  it  is  for  such  thoughts,  caught  by  Carlyle,  from  the 
genius  of  the  books  he  had  read,  that  these  lectures  are  invaluable. 

The  two  lectures  on  the  Greeks  are  a  running  commentary, 
alike  on  their  geographical  and  atmospheric  surroundings,  their 
mythology  and  national  characteristics,  their  literary  men  and 
their  literature ;  but  out  of  the  lightning  flashes,  through  cloudy 
enough  translations,  one  gets  more  light  on  Greek  literature  and 
life  than  he  will  find  elsewhere  in  any  dozen  lectures  or  chapters 


GLIMPSES  OF  WORLD  LITERATURE.  105 

on  the  theme.  The  whole  picture  is  utterly  unsatisfactory.  Still 
one  is  grateful  for  it,  as  for  a  burst  of  sunshine  on  a  stormy  day. 
At  least  the  outlying  Greek  landscape  is  clearer  henceforth,  if  not 
wholly  clear  in  all  its  literary  details.  From  Homer  to  Pythagoras, 
to  jEschylus,  to  Sophocles,  to  Socrates ;  and  regarding  each  there 
are  many  remarks  which  open  vistas  into  the  Greek  genius  and 
show  us  why  their  words  and  their  works  remain  to  this  day  the 
glory  of  the  world.  You  may  not  agree  with  all  that  Carlyle  says 
of  these  men,  and  you  may  regret  deeply  enough  that  he  says  lit- 
tle or  nothing  of  other  Greeks  you  have  learned  to  admire ;  and 
you  are  not  bound  to  accept  his  word  as  gospel  on  any  point 
mentioned;  but  you  will  not  fail  to  have  your  own  senses 
awakened,  your  own  vision  broadened,  and  a  more  intelligent  and 
intelligible  view  of  Greek  literature  and  life  with  you  after  read- 
ing these  chapters. 

Of  ^schylus  and  Sophocles  he  says,  "-^schylus  had  found 
Greek  tragedy  in  a  cart,  under  the  charge  of  Thespis — a  man  of 
great  consideration  in  his  day,  but  of  whom  nothing  remains  to 
us — and  he  made  it  into  the  regular  drama.  Sophocles  completed 
the  work.  He  was  of  a  more  cultivated  and  chastened  mind  than 
-iEschylus.  He  translated  it  into  a  choral  peal  of  melody,  ^s- 
chylus  only  excels  in  hi^  grand  bursts  of  feeling.  The  Antigone 
of  Sophocles  is  the  finest  thing  of  the  kind  ever  sketched  by 
man." 

Of  Socrates  he  said,  "  I  have  a  great  desire  to  admire  Socrates, 
but  I  confess  that  his  writings  (sayings)  seem  to  me  to  be  made 
up  of  a  number  of  very  wire-drawn  notions  about  virtue.  There 
is  no  conclusion  in  him.  There  is  no  word  of  life  in  Socrates." 
Of  Plato  there  is  hardly  a  word.  In  truth,  one  wonders  if  what 
Carlyle  is  reported  to  have  said  of  Socrates  was  not  really  said  of 
Plato.  After  this  "  the  nation  became  more  and  more  sophistical." 
Zeno  and  the  Stoics,  Epicurus  and  his  famed  Academy  are  not 
even  named,  and  the  Greeks  having  lost  their  genius  for  Homeric 
poetry,  for  invention,  for  war,  for  the  drama,  for  art,  and  having 
taken  merely  to  philosophy,  having  ceased  to  live,  and  fallen  into 
that  inane  sea-foam  where  men  only  speculate  how  the  thing  is 
done,  they  waited  for  their  conqueror  and  practically  ceased  to  be. 

But  one  lecture  is  given  to  the  Romans,  and  their  literature  is 
treated  as  a  part  of  the  first  literary  period;  and  while  this  is  well 
enough  as  far  as  Roman  literature  is   related  to  Greek,  these 


106  THE  GLOBE. 

periods,  as  marked  out  by  Carlyle,  will  not  do  for  a  larger  and 
more  thorough  view  of  wojld-literature.  In  truth,  there  are  but 
two  periods  of  literature  or  of  life — B,  C.  and  A.  D,  The  thought 
of  the  race  converges  toward  or  diverges  from  the  cross  of  Christ. 
Roman  history  and  literature  are  barely  touched,  not  even 
sketched;  but  the  touches  are  so  luminous  that  the  light  they 
leave  surpasses  the  light  of  many  long  histories.  And  here  again 
one  is  so  grateful  for  what  is  named,  that  one  ceases  to  complain 
of  the  fact  that  so  much  of  importance  is  not  named  at  all.  In 
"the  poems  of  Virgil  and  Horace,  we  see  the  Roman  character  of 
a  still  strength."  There  is  hardly  a  word  of  Cicero.  Seneca  is 
duly  despised,  and  the  lecture  is  most  notable  for  its  quotations 
from  Tacitus,  showing  the  light  in  which  the  early  Christians 
were  held  among  the  Romans  during  the  years  of  their  decline 
and  fall.  This  is  now  an  old  story,  but  Carlyle  proved  alike  the 
deep,  though  doubting  Christianity  of  his  own  heart,  and  his  gen- 
ius for  seizing  the  salient  and  living  points  of  history  when  he 
emphasized  those  words  of  Tacitus.  They  are,  indeed,  the  key- 
note to  a  true  understanding  of  all  Roman  history  and  literature. 
They  were  mere  borrowers  of  the  artistic  from  the  Greeks,  and 
never  had  an  eye  for  the  true  soul  or  spirit  of  literature,  art,  or 
religion.  Hence  their  grotesque  and  bungling  fall.  Having  no 
heart  or  faith  for  dealing  with  the  Roman-Christian  problem,  or 
for  showing  how  Roman  failure,  through  vice,  became  Christian 
victory  through  a  virtue  new  and  chaste  and  beautiful  as  day  in  a 
darkened  world,  the  fourth  lecture,  or  the  first  of  the  second 
period,  is  a  strange  medley  of  wise  and  unwise  sayings — mostly 
wise  —  regarding  the  northern  invasions,  the  early  Christian 
Primacy  of  Rome ;  and  very  soon  we  are  at  Pope  Hildebrand,  about 
the  year  1070,  and  in  another  page  or  two  of  very  general  com- 
ment we  are  done  with  that  world-famous  era,  which  made  the 
nations  of  the  old  world  into  the  seed-fields  of  modern  literature 
and  modern  Christendom.  Literature  there  was  in  that  great 
period,  but  not  of  the  kind  that  Carlyle  knew  how  to  handle.  So 
"  in  our  next  lecture  we  shall  come  to  Dante,"  and  feel  more  at 
home.  Meanwhile  the  wide  world  has  crossed  its  Rubicon.  A 
new  Thermopylae  has  been  fought,  where  one  man  died  in  agony 
amid  the  jeerings  of  the  world,  but  conquered  by  immortal  love; 
and  a  new  story  must  be  told.  In  round  figures,  nearly  two  thou- 
sand years  have  passed.     Italy  is  born  on  Roman  soil.     Italy  is 


GLIMPSES  OF  WORLD  LITERATURE.  107 

the  child  of  Christianity.  Men  have  grown  weary  of  Greek  phi- 
losophy and  logic,  of  Roman  jurisprudence  and  tyranny.  The  na- 
tions are  learning  sincerity  once  more,  and  on  a  higher  plane.  In 
the  place  of  Homer  and  Sophocles  and  Phidias,  we  now  have 
Dante,  Raphael,  Michelangelo ;  and  the  real  conflict  of  the  future 
is  not  over  some  prostitute  of  the  camp-fires ;  the  new  battle  is 
deeper — of  the  human  soul — its  struggle  for  heaven  and  away 
from  hell ;  and  the  new  art  is  of  Madonnas  whose  faces  shall  tell 
of  chastities  and  virtues  undreamed  of  in  Greek  art  or  poetry. 
The  world  is  swinging  into  its  larger  grooves  of  change,  and  larger 
men  must  sing  its  songs.  The  new  men,  spite  of  themselves,  are 
a  new  creation — ^the  beacon  lights  of  the  New  Jerusalem  of  God. 

Carlyle  is  just  as  inadequate  in  the  Italian  as  he  was  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  eras ;  but  many  beautiful  things  are  said  of 
Dante,  many  wise  things  of  the  peoples  that  went  to  form  the  Ital- 
ian nations  out  of  which  Dante  came ;  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that 
this  lecture  in  no  sense  tells  an  adequate  story,  either  of  Dante  or 
his  great  poem.  Of  Tasso  and  Petrarch  there  is  hardly  a  word, 
and  of  the  great  redemptive  world-meaning  of  this  new  era  there 
is  scarcely  a  hint  looking  toward  any  comprehension  of  it  at  all. 
Carlyle  was  great,  but  a  greater  than  he  is  needed  to  expound  the 
complete  literature  of  the  world. 

Lecture  VI  continues  the  second  period  and  deals  with  the 
Spanish  nation.  Here  again  Carlyle  pursues  the  method  of  epi^ 
sode,  and  the  kodak  is  turned  mainly  upon  Cervantes,  with  side 
lights  bearing  on  many  phases  of  the  Spanish  people.  Here  is  a 
typical  sentence,  taken  almost  at  random:  "The  Spaniards  had  less 
breadth  of  genius  than  the  Italians,  but  they  had,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  lofty,  sustained  enthusiasm,  in  a  higher  degree  than  the  Italians, 
with  a  tinge  of  what  we  call  romance,  a  dash  of  Oriental  exaggera- 
tion, and  a  tenacious  vigor  in  prosecuting  their  objects."  Spanish 
history  bears  this  out,  proves  its  truth.  Cervantes  himself,  is  he 
not  a  royal  illustration — though  often  in  rags — of  this  insight  of  the 
great  Scotchman.  And  Don  Quixote  was  always  one  of  Carlyle's 
pet  books.  He  sums  up  their  literary  men  as  follows:  "  Cervantes, 
Calderon,  and  Lopa,  and  Cervantes  is  far  above  the  other  two." 
He  also  praises  their  spirit  of  discovery ;  but,  on  the  whole,  one  is 
forced  to  the  conviction  that  Carlyle,  perhaps  by  reason  of  his 
poor,  limited  Scotch  Calvinism,  never  fully  understood  either  the 
meaning  of  Italian  or  of  Spanish  history  or  literature.    There  was 


108  THE  QLOBE. 

a  soul  in  it  all — as  in  Spanish  adventure — that  he  could  not  see 
and  could  not  praise,  as  it  deserves  to  be  praised.  Being  a 
Protestant  of  the  Protestants,  he — like  so  many  other  modem 
writers — seemed  to  feel  that  he  must  save  himself  for  what  has 
been  called  the  Reformation ;  which,  rightly  seen,  even  in  literature, 
was  but  a  lopping  off  of  the  richer,  fruit-bearing  branches  of  the 
human  soul — a  foul  plucking  of  the  tree  of  life.  It  was  the 
Church  of  Christ  that  made  Dante,  and  Raphael,  and  Michael- 
angelo,  and  Cervantes  possible.  It  was  the  Church  of  Christ  that 
later  evolved  the  great  masters  of  music  and  of  song.  And  what 
might  it  not  have  done  for  the  literature  and  life  of  Germany, 
France  and  England,  had  these  remained  loyal  to  the  faith.  In- 
deed, the  Shakesperean  era  was  due  to  Catholic  civilization. 

Lecture  VII  treats  of  the  Germans — a  "  white-complexioned,  quiet 
people,  living  at  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe  " — and  the  Reformation. 
Here  Carlyle  is  more  in  his  element,  and  many  beautiful  rays  of 
light  are  thrown  across  the  faces  and  the  genius  of  this  remarkable 
people,  now  practically  masters  of  the  physical  world.  But  Luther 
is  overpraised  and  Erasmus  is  underrated,  though  Erasmus  was  by 
far  the  stronger  literary  man  of  the  two.  Still  Carlyle  gets  some- 
where near  the  negative  side  of  the  catastrophies  of  these  years  when 
he  says,  page  131:  "There  was  no  Pope  Hildebrand  then,  ready  to 
sacrifice  life  itself  to  the  end  that  he  might  make  the  Church  the 
highest  thing  in  the  world."  There  were  souls  enough  in  the 
Church  at  that  day,  as  always,  ready  to  die  for  the  truths  she  held; 
but  sometimes  it  takes  the  martyrdom  of  a  great,  commanding 
spirit  to  meet  the  divine  demands,  to  keep  the  Church  from  suffer- 
ing, truth  from  harm  and  the  race  from  annihilation.  The  Refor- 
mation came  and  with  it  such  literature  as  we  all  know.  But  it  is 
stretching  Schiller's  beautiful,  though  poetical  saying :  "  Genius  is 
ever  a  secret  to  itself;  a  strong  man  is  he  that  is  unconscious  of  his 
own  strength  " — it  is  stretching  this  altogether  beyond  its  legitimate 
meaning  to  apply  it  to  a  man  like  Luther :  a  great,  ponderous, 
physical,  self-willed,  proud,  overfed  priest,  before  he  turned 
reformer;  a  man  who,  when  once  the  grace  that  gave  him  a  little 
germ  of  humility,  had  turned  that  germ  into  pride  of  opposition 
and  leadership,  could  but  fight  for  his  own  ideas  rather  than  for 
the  completer  ideas  of  the  Church ;  a  man,  too,  I  find,  who  kept 
on  the  safe  side  of  martyrdom  and  shielded  himself  well  behind 
the  material  powers.    I  do  not  find  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  or  of  Paul 


GLIMPSES  OF  WORLD  LITERATURE.  109 

in  this  great  floundering  genius  of  the  Reformation;  and,  as  far  as 
his  own  soul  was  concerned,  I  think  he  had  much  better  have  kept 
on  with  his  simple  duties  as  priest  and  preacher  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  But  a  new  settling  time  of  th^  human  race  had  come, 
and  the  Church  herself  had  to  enlarge  her  heart  and  arms  and 
meet  many  a  new  phase  of  the  intellectual  and  the  immoral  and 
rebellious  mind  and  heart  of  man. 

Carlyle  never  saw  this  in  its  true  light,  hence  he  misses  the 
splendor  of  the  whole  Christian  period,  from  Caesar  to  Cromwell — 
in  whom  he  began  to  see  what  seemed  to  him  certain  forces  of  the 
soul  of  Christendom  at  work  again.  Still  this  chapter  on  the  Ger- 
mans is  luminous  of  many  points  the  reader  will  find  dull  enough 
in  most  other  German  histories  of  the  period.  But  Luther  has  had 
enough  fulsome  flattery,  and  it  is  time  the  world  got  at  the  true 
dimensions  of  the  man. 

Lecture  VIII  continues  the  second  period  and  deals  with  the 
English,  that  is,  "  the  Germans  gone  mad,"  as  Mr.  Hamlet  might  be 
inclined  to  say.  Here  there  are  fresh  glances  at  the  Teutonic  race, 
in  order  to  get  out  of  it  the  Saxons  and  Normans  who  invaded  Eng- 
land, and  either  whipped  or  mingled  with  the  ancient  Celtic  British 
until  our  Shakespearean  and  Elizabethan  eras  came  into  being. 
In  this  chapter  there  are  many  characteristic  sayings,  full  of  light 
and  power,  such  as  the  reader  will  not  find  elsewhere,  and,  perhaps, 
Milton,  as  having  too  much  consciousness  of  his  genius,  is  not 
sufficiently  appreciated,  Milton  always  suff"ers  from  being  the 
English  author  next  greatest  to  Shakespeare,  with  whom,  therefore, 
he  is  apt  to  be  compared;  but  there  is  no  comparison.  Shakes- 
peare stands  alone  in  all  the  world,  without  an  intellectual  rival  in 
the  realms  of  poetry.  Milton  was  essentially  a  Puritan  preacher, 
and  his  great  poems  are  to  Protestantism  what  Dante's  are  to  Ca- 
tholicism. Nothing  is  gained,  no  true  light  on  either  man,  by 
comparing  Milton  with  Shakespeare. 

Lecture  IX  was  devoted  to  the  French,  and  treated  of  their 
skepticism,  from  Rabelais  to  Rousseau.  Of  this  lecture  no  record 
exists.  Fortunately  Carlyle  has  dealt  at  length  with  this  theme  in 
his  treatment  of  Voltaire,  and  in  his  "  Miscellanies"  the  reader  can 
find  many  things  he  will  miss  in  this  connection. 

Lecture  X  brings  us  to  English  eighteenth  century  ism;  to  John- 
son, Hume,  Sterne,  Swift — the  greatest  of  them  all — and  to  Whit- 
field.    There  are  many  narrow  prejudices  here;   but  the  great 


110  THE  GLOBE. 

leading  thoughts  of  the  lecture  are  true  to  history;  indeed,  are  a 
part  of  the  thing  we  call  history;  for  history  is  but  the  past  as 
pictured  by  the  pens  of  its  ablest  men. 

Lecture  XI  treats  of  the  consummation  of  Skepticism,  shows  how 
the  mildew  of  its  virus  rotted  the  faith  of  the  French,  had  much 
to  do  with  the  horrors  of  the  French  Revolution,  and,  leaping  with 
killing  contagion  into  Germany,  produced  Wertherism,  or  the  first 
love-sick  efforts  of  Goethe,  et  al.  But  Carlyle  finds  a  healthy 
element  in  the  German  mind,  that  could  not  rest  in  this  maudlin 
sentimentalism,  and  touches  the  works  of  Goethe,  that  looked  like 
the  dawning  of  a  new  day  in  modern  literature. 

In  Lecture  XII  Carlyle  comes  to  Goethe  and  his  work,  in  earnest, 
and  being  touched  to  love  and  admiration  through  contact  with  a 
genius  in  some  way  greater  than  his  own,  this  last  lecture  of  the 
series  is  in  many  things  the  best  of  them  all.  Through  it  he  comes 
to  Goethe's  best  thoughts  on  Christianity,  as  the  worship  of  sorrow, 
and  seems  to  realize — as  indeed  he  realized  all  through  his  life — 
that  there  was  a  divine  depth  of  mystery,  of  love,  of  death,  of 
sorrow  and  redemption  for  man  in  all  this  that  neither  Calvinism 
nor  diluted  Puritanism,  called  "Emersonism,"  had  fathomed. 
Goethe  learned  it  of  his  fair  saint — she  of  the  Catholic  sisterhood, 
and  these  of  the  source  of  all  good.  On  all  this  subject  Carlyle 
stood  through  his  life  as  a  man  storm-tossed  on  an  old  wreck  at 
sea ;  cloud-surrounded,  beaten  with  the  waves  almost  to  madness, 
but  with  sunbursts  of  splendor  breaking  upon  his  face  now  and 
then ;  a  rock  between  the  two  oceans  of  unbelief  and  faith  immortal ; 
unable,  unwilling  by  nature  and  God's  protection,  to  yield  to  the 
tides  that  swept  thousands  to  death  at  his  side,  but  still  unable,  by 
reason  of  early  and  later  training,  to  see  the  perfect  truth  of  the 
Church  of  God. 

The  world  is  greatly  indebted  to  Mr.  Anstey  for  having  taken 
such  copious  notes  of  these  lectures  as  to  make  their  reproduction 
possible  at  this  late  day,  and  the  world  is  still  more  indebted  to 
Professor  Greene  for  the  careful  work  bestowed  on  the  editing  of 
the  lectures;  and  if  they  are  not  all  that  could  be  desired,  they  are 
still  a  treasure  one  seldom  finds. 

I  had  intended  to  devote  considerable  space  in  this  notice  to 
Professor  Greene's  notes.  They  occupy  between  fifty  and  sixty  pages 
at  the  end  of  the  volume,  and  they  are  the  most  scholarly,  the 
most  sensible,  the  most  cultured,  the  most  discriminating  words  I 


TIPS.  Ill 

have  ever  read  in  connection  with  any  of  Carlyle's  writings.  In- 
deed, these  notes  make  me  regret  profoundly  that  Carlyle  had  not 
found  Professor  Greene  in  his  lifetime,  and  that  he,  instead  of 
Froude,  had  not  been  chosen  to  edit  the  letters  and  life  of  this 
great  man.  W.  H.  Thorne. 

August  2,  1892. 


TIPS. 

There  was  a  time,  within  the  memory  of  men  whose  whiskers 
are  not  yet  badly  frost-bitten,  when  the  offer  of  extra  money 
to  an  American,  after  he  had  already  been  paid  for  a  service,  would 
have  been  viewed  as  an  insult.  It  was  not  that  he  was  apt  to  be 
wealthy  or  that  the  money  would  have  been  unacceptable,  if  it  had 
been  earned.  It  was  an  honest  and  manly  pride  that  forbade  him 
to  take  it,  because  the  gift  smacked  of  charity  and  condescension. 
Within  recent  years,  however,  the  extensive  incoming  of  foreigners 
to  fill  our  smaller  social  offices  has  encouraged  and  even  established 
the  custom  of  "tipping."  This  evil  practice  would  never  have  ob- 
tained a  hold  were  it  not  for  the  generosity  and  carelessness  of  our 
people.  A  smug,  obsequious  waiter,  wriggling  his  fingers  about 
your  plate  or  lingering  significantly  beside  your  table ;  a  barber 
fussing  over  your  moustache ;  a  hall-boy  brushing  your  clothes 
with  a  fury  of  needless  industry ;  a  salesman  trying  to  charm  you 
with  his  conversation  and  urbanity ;  a  shop-girl  casting  a  sidelong 
glance  at  you  as  she  counts  your  change,  coin  by  coin,  into  your 
palm — a  person  of  this  sort  has  a  dime  tossed  within  his  reach, 
exactly  as  we  fling  a  bone  to  a  dog,  not  because  we  like  him,  or 
feel  indebted  to  him,  but  because  it  is  easy  to  do  so,  and  easy  thus 
to  be  rid  of  him. 

Those  who  set  the  habit  little  thought  of  the  burden  they  were 
laying  on  the  rest  of  the  community.  Once  used  to  demanding 
fees,  their  recipients  are  bound  to  continue  the  custom,  and  it  is 
not  every  man  who  can  afford  to  pay  them  without  suffering  for  it. 
The  rich  man,  who  can  afford  it,  gets  an  unfair  amount  of  atten- 
tion; the  poor  man,  though  he  has  paid  exactly  the  same  for  his 
goods,  gets  proportionally  less.  Landlords  and  bosses  are  the  ones 
to  whom  we  have  a  right  to  look  for  the  break-up  of  "tipping." 
If  they  pay  their  employes  enough  to  live  on,  they  can  and  should 


112  THE  GLOBE. 

command  them  to  accept  nothing  from  customers,  and  when  this 
is  done,  the  humbler  guest,  feeling  himself  on  a  commercial  equal- 
ity with  the  others,  may  safely  reserve  his  fee.  In  Europe,  where 
waiters  pay  for  their  places,  and  where  members  of  the  nobility 
seem  to  be  partly  dependent  on  the  sixpence  accruing  from  the 
exhibition  of  their  bed-chambers  and  family  portraits,  fees  are 
regulated  by  an  established  scale  that  observes  some  relation  be- 
tween the  service  and  the  gratuity.  The  evil,  therefore,  though 
more  general,  is  less  oppressive.  In  America  it  is  oppressive  be- 
cause there  is  no  excuse  for  it,  and  no  limit  to  it ;  because  service 
is  grudgingly  and  impudently  given  if  the  fee  is  not  in  sight,  and 
because  the  custom  is  undemocratic  and  un-American. 

This  "tipping"  business  has  a  broader  significance  than  that  of 
petty  injustice  and  personal  plunder.  It  shows  how  we  may 
become  affected  in  wrong  ways  by  the  influx  of  an  unwelcome 
class  of  people  from  countries  whose  attitude  is  that  of  habitual 
mendicacy.  They  do  not  ask  for  work  until  they  have  first  asked 
for  money.  They  commend  their  patriotism  to  us,  poke  their  bon- 
nets under  our  noses  and  say:  "How  much  are  you  giving?"  Like 
the  daughters  of  the  horse-leech,  their  incessant  cry  is,  "Give!"  If 
these  patriots  settle  in  America  they  expect  to  be  furnished  with  the 
places  of  small  labor  and  large  reward  that  their  countrj^men  have 
been  able  to  open  for  them.  They  look  on  this  nation  as  a  muni- 
ficent almsgiver,  and  they  come  here  for  "tips." 

The  fact  that  an  evil,  and  strictly  European,  custom  can  be  in- 
grafted here  in  a  wondrously  short  time,  should  give  us  pause,  for 
there  are  other  evil  customs  as  likely  to  be  adopted  if  a  righteous 
firmness  is  not  exercised.  A  "tip,"  whether  it  be  a  nickel  for  a 
waiter  or  a  seat  in  Congress  for  a  saloon-keeper,  is  unearned,  and 
is  a  dishonest  gain,  that  a  real  man  will  refuse  to  accept.  The  pity 
o/  it  is,  that  little  swindles  are  apt  to  be  tolerated  because  of  their 
insignificance ;  but  from  little  dishonesties  to  big  ones  is  a  probable 
progression.  Setting  aside  all  questions  of  discrimination  and 
inconvenience,  should  we,  on  moral  grounds,  tolerate  the  European 
custom  of  the  "  tip  "  ? 

Charles  M.  Skinner. 


FRESH  BREEZES  FROM  BEHRING  SEA. 


The  Behring  Sea  Controversy.  By  General  B.  F.  Butler  and 
THE  Marquis  of  Lorne.  North  American  Review,  May, 
1892. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  two  articles  so  characteristic,  on  the 
one  hand,  of  Yankee  shrewdness  and  unprincipled  smartness,  and 
on  the  other,  of  English  light-weight,  dilettanti  literaryism,  as  the 
productions  named  above.  General  Butler,  like  all  his  tribe,  from 
Samuel  Adams  to  this  day,  writes  without  any  regard  for  truth, 
without  any  desire  to  get  at  or  state  the  bottom  facts  in  the  case ; 
indeed,  with  a  brazen,  unconcealed  purpose  to  evade  the  truth,  to 
put  a  false  and  plausible  assumption  in  the  place  of  truth,  and 
then,  proceeding  on  the  assumption  that  England  is  all  in  the 
wrong  in  this  matter,  as  in  everything  else,  this  famous — one 
might  almost  say  infamous — old  Yankee  proceeds  to  show  how 
easy  it  would  be  for  the  United  States  to  put  the  British  Empire 
in  their  pocket  and  wipe  the  gutters  of  Boston  with  the  rest  of  the 
universe. 

Over  and  over  again  The  Globe  has  stated,  not  to  its  own  profit, 
that  New  England  never  could  bear  the  truth,  or  endure  any  man 
or  woman  who  uttered  it  or  even  had  a  love  for  it.  This  article 
of  Butler's  is  fresh  proof  that  whatever  distant  inklings  toward  the 
truth  the  early  Puritans  and  pilgrims  might  have  had — and  I 
have  always  held  that  they  had  such — ^have  been  lost  through 
the  moral  obliquity  of  New  England  during  the  last  two  hundred 
years,  until  now  her  representative  sons  and  daughters  will  put 
falsehood  for  truth,  light  for  darkness,  vice  for  virtue,  and  smile 
at  their  smartness  with  a  sort  of  squint-eye  shrewdness,  dreaming 
all  the  while  that  neither  God  nor  man  sees  or  notices  these  things 
any  more.  God  and  men,  however,  do  notice  these  things,  and  it 
is  just  such  exhibitions  of  smart  villainy  as  this  article  of  Butler's 
that  prove  afresh  the  godless  and  unprincipled  smartness  of  our 
American  civilization,  and  prove  also  the  truth  of  the  long  time 
Catholic  assertion,  that  if  you  shut  God  out  of  your  public  schools 
you  will  shut  morality  out  of  your  halls  of  legislation,  out  of  your 


114  THE  QLOBE. 

churches,  so-called,  out  of  your  literature,  and  out  of  your  lives. 
But  who  cares  ?  Have  we  not  our  Winchester  rifles,  our  wooden 
nutmegs,  our  silver  dollars,  our  Lowell  and  Holmes'  poetry,  our 
great  big  eagle,  our  spoons  from  New  Orleans,  and  our  North  Ameri- 
can Review — all  devoted  to  the  devil  and  his  angels !  and  will  they 
not  carry  us  through  ?    We  shall  see. 

And  poor  Lome !  the  Marquis !  son-in-law  to  the  Empress  of 
India ! — for  the  North  American  Review  must  have  big  names  to  float 
its  windy  pages — begins  his  article  on  the  Behring  Sea,  much  in 
imitation  of  the  opening  of  Carlyle's  Cromwell,  as  if  he  were  about 
to  write  a  new  epic  of  our  western  north  lands  and  seas,  and  only 
struggles  faintly  toward  the  truth  near  the  end  of  his  article,  out 
of  breath,  as  it  were,  like  a  spent  swimmer  panting  toward  the 
shore.  And  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  that  passes  for  high-class 
review  literature  in  the  United  States,  and  which  Mr.  Mountebank 
Stead,  in  his  slim-waisted,  so-called  Review  of  Reviews,  has  neither 
the  brains  nor  the  courage  nor  the  culture  to  detect  or  expose. 
Verily,  the  prophecies  of  the  clowns,  that  the  age  is  lacking  in  lit- 
erary genius,  seem  to  be  fulfilled. 

The  real  questions  between  England  and  the  United  States,  in 
the  Behring  Sea  controversy,  were  and  remain.  First,  to  what  ex- 
tent is  England  claiming,  and  to  what  extent  is  the  Government 
of  the  United  States  refusing,  rights  in  Behring  Sea  that  are  not 
usually  claimed  or  refused  in  ocean  waters  ?  Second,  to  what  ex- 
tent is  England  claiming,  and  to  what  extent  is  the  Government 
of  the  United  States  refusing,  rights  in  the  Behring  Sea  thjit  Eng- 
land did  not  claim  and  exercise  while  Alaska  was  a  Russian  pos- 
session, and  that  Russia  admitted  and  did  not  refuse  ? 

The  first  phase  of  this  international  question,  as  here  stated, 
General  Butler  passes  in  silence,  doubtless  holding,  in  the  spirit  of 
the  Revolutionists  of  1776,  that  Americans  have  certain  inalien- 
able rights,  based  on  the  eternal  laws  of  humanity,  etc.,  that  have 
never  been  claimed  by  or  granted  to  other  human  beings.  Per- 
haps, however,  the  international  right  of  fishing — for  sprats  or  seals 
— in  the  waters  of  the  oceans,  is  one  of  those  "  musty  "  questions 
the  General  refers  to  in  his  first  paragraph  as  requiring  no  atten- 
tion in  the  present  controversy.  Unless  I  am  much  mistaken, 
however,  the  arbitrating  powers  that  now  have  charge  of  the  mat- 
ter will  make  a  clear  definition  on  this  point,  and  will  make  that 
definition  the  basis  of  all  specific  Alaskan  claims  and  difficulties 


FRESH  BREEZES  FROM  BEHRINQ  SEA.  115 

as  between  England  and  Russia  in  years  past,  and  between  Eng- 
land and  the  United  States  to-day.  In  a  word,  I  venture  the  pre- 
diction, that  the  arbitrating  powers  will  go  into  these  "  musty  " 
questions  relating  to  "  our  national  rights  and  our  title  to  property 
that  we  claim,"  and  that  said  ppwers  will  begin  by  convincing 
themselves,  ^rsi,  that  the  United  States  have  no  other  rights  in  the 
waters  of  the  seas  than  are  usually  claimed  by  and  granted  to 
other  nations ;  second,  that  as  the  right  to  fish  in  the  open  seas  is 
a  right  claimed  by  and  granted  to  all  nations  and  men,  the  arbi- 
trating powers  will  conclude  that,  as  Behring  Sea  is  a  part  of  the 
waters  of  the  common  oceans  of  the  world,  the  English  and  the 
British  Canadians,  in  common  with  Yankees,  Indians,  Esqui- 
maux and  Chinamen,  have  a  right  to  catch  tadpoles  or  seals  in 
Behring  Sea  if  they  are  so  inclined,  and  if  they  find  the  fishing 
profitable ;  that  is  on  general  principles  of  the  eternal  and  inalien- 
able rights  of  man,  so-called,  and  unless  there  have  been  interna- 
tional or  other  mutual  agreements  between  the  parties  most  inter- 
ested in  the  neighboring  seas  that  may  happen  to  be  under 
discussion. 

Instead  of  going  into  this  phase  of  the  specific  question  at  all, 
General  Butler  settles  it  by  one  sweep  of  his  august  hand  in  the 
second  paragraph  of  his  article,  as  follows :  "All  claims  to  the 
lands  and  waters  on  this  continent  have  been  obtained  through 
the  right  of  discovery  and  occupation."  This  is  a  singularly 
stupid,  disjointed,  vulnerable  and  lying  statement,  and  yet  one  in 
the  main  that  we  need  not  bother  with,  because  it  has  little  or  no 
bearing  upon  the  question  at  issue.  The  statement,  however,  was 
meant  to  be  very  wise  or  very  knavish,  or  both ;  but,  unfortu- 
nately, knavery  and  wisdom  do  not  go  well  together,  even  in  mod- 
em poUtics  and  modern  literature. 

It  would  be  nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  all  claims  to  the  lands 
and  waters  on  this  continent  have  been  obtained  through  whole- 
sale robbery  and  murder.  But  I  do  not  propose  to  go  into  the 
question  of  the  validity  or  morality  of  the  claims  to  "  the  lands 
and  waters  on  this  continent " — that  would  involve  a  very  "  musty  " 
research  into  the  early  Spanish,  English,  French,  Dutch,  Swedish, 
and  finally,  our  American  claims — a  very  musty  and  a  very  devil- 
ish problem  when  looked  into  by  any  open  eyes ;  but  if  you  choose 
to  squint  at  the  "  eternal  principles  of  humanity,"  and  conclude 
after  all  that  they  only  mean  all  the  red  men,  black  men,  and  silver 


116  THE  GLOBE. 

spoons  you  can  choke  and  grab  and  mortgage  and  sell,  in  order  to 
put  North  American  Review  money  into  your  rascally  pocket,  you 
can  write  all  the  articles  you  please  without  truth  or  honor  in 
them,  but  you  will  be  apt  to  find  an  arbitration  and  Nemesis  some- 
where that  will  knock  your  Yankee  notions  into  everlasting 
contempt. 

As  regards  the  present  difficulty  between  England  and  the 
United  States,  nobody  questions  the  "claims  to  the  lands  and 
waters  on  this  continent,"  and  therefore  the  General's  bombast  is 
as  wide  of  the  mark  as  a  Yankee's  unprincipled  statement  of  fun- 
damental principles  is  always  sure  to  be.  These  two  lines  hold 
the  key  to  the  General's  article,  and  it  is  worth  while  to  lay  them 
out  and  bury  them  as  they  deserve.  If  they  have  any  meaning  or 
value  in  the  present  case,  they  mean,  by  implication  at  least,  that 
all  the  lands  and  waters  on  this  continent  belong  to  the  Yankee 
and  his  heirs.  But  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  lands  and  waters 
of  this  continent  are  still  in  the  unquestioned  possession  of  the 
Spanish,  the  Brazilian-Spanish,  and  the  English,  and  the  true 
inwardness  of  the  General's  grotesque  claim  would  only  be  admit- 
ted by  a  man  intoxicated  with  bad  morality  or  bad  whisky.  It 
is  to  be  feared  that  General  Butler  has  long  been  suflfering  from 
the  double  malady. 

Poor  old  wretch  !  It  i3  a  pity  he  did  not  die  years  ago.  For 
more  than  twenty  years  I  defended  him,  as  opportunity  ofiered, 
against  all  the  attacks  of  his  enemies.  I  believed  that,  like  Fre- 
mont, during  the  war,  he  was  pursued  by  the  jealousy  of  West 
Point  generals  and  hack  politicians.  I  believe  so  still,  and  on  any 
question  relating  to  his  real  ability  as  a  soldier  or  a  lawyer  I 
would  gladly  defend  him  still.  But  we  can  admit  neither  the 
tyranny  of  the  General  nor  the  pettifogging  methods  of  the  con- 
temptible attorney  in  the  broad  literary  discussion  of  international 
questions,  and  it  goes  without  saying,  that  Butler  is  by  nature 
and  practice  unable  to  rise  above  the  withering  influence  of  these 
two  lines  of  character  and  action.  But  let  us  leave  the  old  man  to 
the  fates  and  the  furies  that  are  soon  to  try  him,  and  return  "  to 
the  lands  and  waters  on  this  continent."  The  General  evidently 
forgot,  for  the  moment,  that  the  United  States  did  not  and  do  not 
constitute  the  whole  of  this  continent ;  and  what  he  meant  to  say 
in  this  high-flown  Sam-Adams  burlesque  sentence  was,  simply, 
that  the  United  States  owned  their  own  territory — an  assertion 


FRESH  BREEZES  FROM  BEHRING  SEA.  117 

which  no  Englishman,  Irishman,  Dutchman,  Spaniard  or  Negro 
would  question  for  a  moment.  If  it  has  any  sense  at  all,  "  the 
lands  and  waters  on  this  continent "  cannot  mean  more  than  that ; 
and  as  there  is  no  question  of  rights  of  national  ownership  in 
land,  "  the  waters  on  this  continent,"  that  is  *'  in  "  the  territory  of 
the  United  States,  can  only  have  reference  to  waters  embraced 
within  the  territory  of  the  United  States — that  is,  our  lakes,  rivers, 
etc.,  and  as  many  miles  of  adjacent  sea  water  as  shall  be  interna- 
tionally or  mutually  agreed  upon. 

Now,  as  no  waters  within  the  territory  of  the  United  States  have 
been  invaded,  or  the  rights  of  the  United  States  questioned  to 
them,  the  General's  two-line  bombastic  sentence,  strictly  ex- 
amined, is  as  foolish,  fool-hardy  and  contemptible  as  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  itself. 

So  we  come  to  the  second  phases  of  the  question,  viz. :  Behring 
Sea  being  a  part  of  the  salt  water  seas  of  the  world,  and  the 
"  eternal  rights  "  of  man  being  granted  therein,  what  specific  agree- 
ments have  existed  between  the  nations  with  territory  adjacent  to 
Behring  Sea  relative  to  their  mutual  rights  of  fishing  or  sealing 
in  its  waters ;  and  how  many  miles  of  sea  adjacent  to  the  lands  of 
these  nations  have  been  claimed  as  the  peculiar  property  of  said 
nations  ? 

As  far  as  it  is  possible  for  a  depraved  old  Yankee  to  approach 
the  truth  on  any  subject.  General  Butler  approaches  this  phase  of 
the  question  in  the  following  words :  "  Through  these,  more  than 
a  hundred  years  ago,  Russia  came  into  possession  of  the  Aleutian 
Islands  and  the  territory  now  called  Alaska,  and  exercised  exclu- 
sive jurisdiction,  unquestioned,  against  all  the  world,  until  she 
transferred  her  said  possessions  and  appertaining  rights  thereto, 
to  the  United  States." 

Now,  as  far  as  this  sentence  has  reference  to  the  Aleutian 
Islands  and  the  territory  now  called  Alaska,  nobody  questions  the 
truth  of  the  General's  assertion ;  but  as  far  as  it  has  reference, 
literally,  to  these  islands  and  this  territory,  "  it  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  case."  England  neither  claims  these  islands  nor  this 
territory.  It  is  a  question  of  fishing  in  Behring  Sea,  you  old 
knave,  and  not  a  question  of  ownership  in  land,  at  all !  Stick  to 
the  question!  Don't  dodge  the  crowd,  tip  the  colored  woman 
and  get  your  stateroom  by  purchasing  a  darky  woman  with  lucre ; 
but  stand  in  line  with  us  men,  and  get  your  stateroom,  or  go 
9 


118  THE  GLOBE. 

without.  The  General  will  understand.  You  may  dodge  or  fool 
the  editor  of  the  North  American  Review — that  is  an  easy  task. 
You  may,  perhaps,  purchase  him  with  a  tip — Carnegie  like — and 
get  your  windy  trash  in  its  pages,  and  put  money  in  all  your 
pockets ;  but  you  cannot  dodge  the  editor  of  The  Globe,  or  escape 
the  damnation  of  hell ! 

As  far  as  the  General's  sentence  has  any  reference  to  the  present 
issue  it  means,  and  was  meant  to  mean,  that  fishing  for  seals 
in  Behring  Sea  was  one  of  the  unquestioned,  exclusive  rights  of 
jurisdiction  that  Russia  had  held  against  all  the  world  during  these 
more  than  a  hundred  years,  etc.  And  as  far  as  it  means  this  it  is 
a  barefaced,  unblushing,  contemptible  lie ;  that  is,  as  far  as  the 
statement  has  any  bearing  upon  the  question  under  discussion  it 
is  either  consciously  or  unconsciously  false  to  the  core  and  false  in 
every  particular.  Yet  it  sounds  well,  and  no  doubt  was  very  con- 
vincing to  the  groundling  readers  of  the  North  American  Review. 

After  a  few  other  sentences  in  this  same  tone  of  irrelevant,  ig- 
norant, unblushing  bravado,  going  over  again  the  oft-repeated 
newspaper  accounts  of  the  discussion  between  Lord  Salisbury  and 
President  Harrison,  regarding  the  continuance  of  the  so-called 
modus  Vivendi,  or  the  mutual  agreement  to  stop  fishing  for  seals  in 
Behring  Sea  until  the  arbitrating  powers  had  been  fixed  upon  and 
had  given  their  decision — in  which  discussion  Lord  Salisbury 
was  plainly  in  the  wrong — the  General,  exactly  in  the  spirit  of  the 
hack  politician  he  naturally  is,  reviews  the  "  musty"  Alabama  and 
other  claims,  points  out  the  eternal  shortcomings  of  England — 
and,  God  knows,  they  abound — and  then  proceeds  to  show  how 
easily  the  United  States  could  swallow  the  British  Empire — if  our 
mouth  were  only  big  enough. 

And  really,  in  the  whole  article  there  is  not  an  intelligent,  honest 
thought  that  even  squints  toward  an  honest  understanding  or  elu- 
cidating of  the  true  Behring  Sea  controversy.  AVith  all  this  Yankee 
bombast,  relative  to  the  comparative  prowess  of  England  and  the 
United  States,  I  have  here  nothing  to  do.  Either  Butler  knew 
nothing  about  the  real  Behring  Sea  controversy,  or,  like  a  skulking 
pettifogger,  afraid  of  the  truth,  he  willfully  evaded  the  truth  and 
tried  to  put  his  brazen  assumption  in  the  place  thereof. 

What  is  this  truth  ?  This  question  brings  us  back  to  the 
General's  grave  assertion  relative  to  the  exclusive,  unquestioned 
rights  of  Russia  during  these  last  one  hundred  years,  etc.     Fully  to 


FRESH  BREEZES  FROM  BEHRINQ  SEA.  1 19 

answer  this  question  and  prove  the  utter  falsehood  of  the  only 
true  meaning  in  the  General's  statement,  we  must  pass  over  unno- 
ticed much  of  the  pretty  stuff  of  the  Marquis  of  Lome : — "A  strange 
north-land,  a  weird  north  water  is  that  Alaskan  region,  that  part  of 
the  Pacific  called  the  Behring  Sea,  on  the  American  side,"  etc. — inti- 
mating, however,  as  we  go  along,  that  the  Marquis  is  clearly  up  in 
his  geography ;  knows  at  least  that  Behring  Sea  is  a  part  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  and,  with  all  his  dilettanteism,  is  not  fool  enough 
or  rascal  enough  to  assume,  or  pretend  to  assume,  that  Behring  Sea 
is  a  part  of  "  the  water  and  land  on  this  continent" — that  is  a  part 
of  the  water  in  the  territory  of  the  United  States. 

Beyond  a  doubt  England,  in  these  days,  is  almost  as  wholly  lost 
to  the  consciousness  of,  and  to  the  power  and  claims  of,  simple 
truth  as  is  the'  "  musty"  Yankee  from  Lowell ;  but  there  is  still  a 
part  of  the  old  north-land  love  of  fair  play  in  the  blood  of  the 
average  Englishman,  and  it  will  out,  now  and  then,  both  with  and 
against  his  will.  So  the  Marquis,  unintentionally  as  it  were,  re- 
veals a  needed  truth  in  the  first  dilettante  sentence  of  his  article. 

Behring  Sea  is  a  part  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  you  knave  of  the 
New  Orleans  silver  spoons  and  of  Yankee  shrewdness! — write  that 
down,  spell  it  out,  coax  it  into  your  old  bald  head  and  remember 
it  the  next  time  you  are  hired  to  write  lies  for  a  standard.American 
Review ; — and,  being  a  part  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  will  naturally  be 
subject  to  the  international  laws  applying  to  the  waters  of  the 
oceans,  until  by  mutual  or  international  consent  other  laws  are 
made  and  applied  to  the  waters  of  Behring  Sea. 

A  little  further  on  the  Marquis — again  in  a  sort  of  unimportant 
style — remarks  the  simple  truth  on  this  point,  that  "  every  distin- 
guished lawyer  in  the  United  States  backs  the  opinion  that  there 
can  be  no  warrant  for  the  barring  of  the  open  sea,  and  for  the 
exclusive  power  of  fishing  or  of  hunting  therein."  The  second 
predicate,  and  the  logical  conclusion,  are  very  simple,  viz. :  As 
Behring  Sea  is  a  part  of  the  open  sea,  therefore  a  nation  has  no 
right  to  bar  its  waters  against  the  act  of  fishing  therein.  But  what 
does  Butler  care  for  logic  or  the  truth  ?  "  Damn  the  truth ! 
Damn  their  souls !  It  is  their  money  we  want !"  as  a  good  Yan- 
kee deacon  remarked  to  me  many  years  ago,  when  I  was  pastor 
of  a  church  where  the  poor  seemed  inclined  to  come  and  hear  the 
word  of  God.  0,  my  friends !  if  you  think  that  I  am  angry,  or 
that  I  am  fighting  the  whirlwind  in  these  earnest  sayings  of  The 
Globe,  God  will  reveal  even  this  to  you  by  and  by. 


120  THE  GLOBE. 

It  is  just  a  certain  degree  of  the  absence  of  truth  in  a  nation 
that  brings  certain  damnation  and  destruction  to  that  nation. 
What  do  I  care  about  Behring  Sea?  What  do  I  care  about  a  few 
seals  more  or  less,  in  or  out  of  Behring  Sea  ?  Let  hack  statesmen 
like  Blaine,  and  hack  politicians  like  Butler,  and  pretty  marquises 
like  Lome,  dilate  on  seals,  etc.  I  am  not  interested.  The  seals 
have  gone  from  the  coast  of  Maine,  the  bufialoes  have  gone  from 
the  western  plains;  also  the  deer,  the  antelope;  even  prairie  chicken 
and  wild  turkeys  are  scarce  where  they  used  io  abound.  The 
seals  will  probably  go  from  Behring  Sea ;  and  what  is  it  to  me 
whether  England  or  America  gets  most  of  the  skins  ?  I  am  more 
anxious  about  our  own  skins.  In  a  word,  I  would  not  touch  this 
matter  in  The  Globe  were  it  simply  a  question  of  seals  or  seal 
skins. 

But  I  am  interested  in  the  capacity  of  a  nation  to  speak  truth  or 
falsehood.  I  am  interested  when  I  see  the  so-called  high-class 
Review  literature  of  the  nation  sold  to  lying  and  to  lies,  and  it  is 
to  expose  this  phase  of  the  Behring  Sea  controversy  that  I  have 
touched  the  question  at  all. 

Here  again,  let  us  test  General  Butler's  assertion  regarding  Rus- 
sia's unquestioned  rights,  by  a  few  lucid  words  toward  the  end  of 
the  article  of  the  Marquis  of  Lome — and  it  is  Greek  against 
Greek,  for  the  Marquis  fires  Mr.  Adams  and  other  Americans  right 
in  the  teeth  of  the  old  man  from  Lowell.  "Mr.  Adams,  in  1822, 
wrote:  'The  pretensions  of  the  Russian  Government  extend  to  an 
exclusive  territorial  jurisdiction,  from  the  forty-fifth  degree  of  north 
latitude  on  the  Asiatic  coast  to  the  latitude  of  fifty-one  north  on 
the  west  coast  of  the  American  continent,  and  they  assume  the 
right  of  interdicting  the  navigation  and  the  fishing  of  all  other 
nations  to  the  extent  of  one  hundred  miles  from  the  whole  of  the 
coast.' " 

These  are  the  claims  referred  to  by  Butler  as  unquestioned,  and 
held  by  Russia  against  all  the  world.  Yet  as  far  back  as  1822 
Mr.  Adams  wrote :  "  The  United  States  can  admit  no  part  of  these 
claims,''''  and  never  did  admit  them.  Nor  did  England  ever  admit 
them,  and  America  and  England  were  the  only  two  nations  inter- 
ested ;  yet  this  old  scallawag  from  Lowell  declares  that  Russia  held 
these  claims  unquestioned  and  against  all  the  world.  I  am  here 
proving  my  previous  assertion,  that  this  old  man  lied — ignorantly 
or  deliberately,  I  care  not  which. 


FRESH  BREEZES  FROM  BEHRINQ  SEA.  121 

Listen  still  further  to  Mr.  Adams:  "A  little  later"  than  1822  he 
again  said:  "The  right  of  navigation  and  of  fishing  in  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  even  upon  the  Asiatic  coast,  north  of  latitude  forty-five  de- 
grees, can  as  little  be  interdicted  to  the  United  States  as  that  of 
traffic  with  the  natives  of  North  America."  The  Marquis  quotes 
President  Angell  and  Governor  Boutwell,  as  late  as  1872,  to  the 
same  efiect,  and  these  are  the  "musty"  facts  that  prove  the  state- 
ments of  the  Lowell  man  to  be  false  to  the  core. 

And  here  is  a  statement  that  settles  the  whole  question :  "  Brit- 
ish seamen  in  the  last  century  hunted  and  fished  in  Behring  Sea. 
The  right  was  insisted  on  by  Great  Britain  in  the  convention  made 
with  Russia  in  1825,  in  connection  with  matters  affecting  this  very 
sea.  The  first  article  declared :  '  It  is  agreed  that  the  respective 
subjects  of  the  high  contracting  parties  shall  not  be  troubled  or 
molested  in  any  part  of  the  ocean  called  the  Pacific  Ocean,  either 
in  navigating  the  same,  in  fishing  therein,  or  in  landing  at  such 
■parts  of  the  coast  as  shall  not  have  been  already  occupied.^  Great  Bri- 
tain always  declared  that  the  Pacific  Ocean  embraced  Behring  Sea, 
and  that  Russia  could  not  close  it.  And  in  1887  an  American 
Government  official,  in  contending  that  the  seizure  by  Russia  of  an 
American  vessel  was  illegal,  notes  that  the  Russian  code  of  prize 
laws  of  1869  limits  the  jurisdictional  waters  of  Russia  to  three  miles 
from  the  shore J^ 

Finally  the  Marquis  says :  "  Nobody  doubts  that  seals  landing  on 
islands  or  mainland  shores,  or  swimming  in  waters  within  the 
three-mile  limit  of  the  coast,  are  the  property  of  the  land-owners." 
Hence,  as  I  said,  the  statements  of  Butler  are  utterly  false ;  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case;  were  only  meant  as  an  insolent 
bluff  or  an  ignorant  blind ;  and  either  the  old  pettifogger  did  not 
know  what  he  was  talking  about,  or  he  deliberately  misstated  the 
position,  misstated  the  facts,  evaded  the  truth,  and  depended  upon 
simple  ignorance  or  falsehood  to  carry  his  barefaced  inaccuracy 
through.  And  yet  this  article  of  Butler's  is  able,  scholarly,  re- 
spectable and  plausible,  compared  with  nine-tenths  of  the  rot  that 
finds  a  welcome  in  the  pages  of  the  North  American  Review,  the 
Forum  and  the  Arena,  not  to  speak  of  that  wrung-out  wash-tub 
affair  called  a  Review  of  Reviews,  edited  by  Stead,  who  Miss  Wil- 
lard  is  said  to  be  about  to  bring  to  the  United  States  for  a  sort  of 
parade  show,  as  the  greatest  friend  to  the  cause  of  woman  in  the 
wide,  wide  world.     I  should  say  the  cause  of  woman,  whatever 


122  THE  GLOBE. 

that  may  be,  was  in  very  bad  shape  if  a  man  like  Stead  is  recog- 
nized as  its  foremost  champion. 

Now,  on  to  Richmond !  On  to  New  Orleans!  On  to  Behring  Sea ! 
Lie  all  you  can,  steal  all  you  can,  and  by  and  by  even  your  Inger- 
solls  of  the  future  will  prove  to  you  what  foolish  old  falsifiers 
these  Butlers  be. 

But  they  will  hardly  show  that  certain  average  numbers  of  that 
sort  produce  civil  wars.  Homestead  and  Carnegie  riots,  etc.,  and 
sure  as  heaven,  produce  more  undying  misery  than  any  committee 
of  Congress  can  relieve  or  suppress,  except  by  the  simple  applica- 
tion of  the  Gospel  of  the  Son  of  God. 

In  a  word,  by  all  the  international  laws,  conventions  and  agree- 
ments of  the  past,  British  seamen  have  a  right  to  fish  or  catch 
seals  anywhere  in  Behring  Sea,  as  long  as  they  keep  three  miles 
from  shore.  If  any  British  or  other  fisherman  catches  or  kills 
seals  within  three  miles  of  the  shores  of  Alaska,  the  American 
Government  has  a  right  to  deal  with  such  fisherman  as  with  any 
other  violator  of  the  laws,  privileges,  and  rights  of  the  United 
States.  Shoot  him  on  the  spot,  seize  him,  try  him,  or  what  not. 
My  mission  in  the  case  is  to  insist  upon  it,  that  only  as  you  learn 
truth  and  justice  in  your  individual  lives,  will  you  escape  wars 
and  revolutions  unto  the  end. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


BETTER  DAYS,  OR  A  MILLIONAIRE  OF  TO- 
MORROW." 


By  Thomas  Fitch  and  Anna  M.  Fitch. 


I. 

Heroes  and  hero-worship  may  have  gone  out  of  fashion  since 
Carlyle  was  transferred  to  another  sphere  to  continue  there  his 
sovereign  leadership.  Good  things  often  lose  their  vogue,  but  are 
never  lost,  even  in  this  fickle  world. 

If  I  read  history  aright,  a  few  strong  souls  are  the  mirrors 
wherein  all  that  is  perpetuate  in  human  existence  can  be  seen. 
Homer,  Plato  and  Demosthenes  are  Greece;  Virgil,  Caesar  and 
Cicero  are  Rome;   Napoleon,   Moli^re,  Hugo  and  Voltaire  are 


BETTER  DAYS,  OB  A  MILLIONAIRE  OF  TO-MORROW.    123 

France ;  Goethe,  Schiller,  Luther,  Bismarck  and  the  great  Frederick 
are  Germany ;  Calderon,  Cervantes  and  Castelar  are  Spain ;  Peter 
the  Great  and  Tolstoi  are  Russia ;  Shakespeare,  Cromwell,  Newton, 
Tennyson  and  Darwin  are  England ;  Confucius  is  China ;  Buddha 
and  Mohammed  are  Asia ;  Jesus  will  yet  be  the  globe. 

Noble  are  thought  and  action,  sublime  the  thinker  and  doer. 
To  know  the  great  ones  of  earth — those  who  set  up  the  standards, 
those  who  are  the  teachers,  those  who  create  the  ideals  and  be- 
queath the  inspirations — is  a  matter  of  supreme  import.  Genius, 
ah,  God !  how  men  have  hated,  cursed,  crucified  and  loved  it ! 
What  is  there  so  fascinating,  so  sorrowful,  so  beautiful,  so  holy  in 
time's  endless  maze  ?  Gold  is  a  pebble  of  the  people,  silver  is  sand 
of  the  desert,  riches  are  a  wild  waste  of  waters  beside  this  eternal 
fountain  flowing  from  the  Infinite !  Incomparable  value !  Price- 
less gift ! 

II. 

The  book,  "  Better  Days,  or  a  Millionaire  of  To-Morrow,"  just 
published  in  several  of  the  cities  of  the  Union,  is  as  unique  as  its 
authors  are  original.  But  the  work  is  now  committed  to  public 
censorship  and  must  take  care  of  itself  according  to  its  worth. 

It  is  of  the  man,  the  orator,  not  the  writer,  Thomas  Fitch,  that  I 
wish  to  specif''  certain  things.  A  more  gifted  or  mysterious  char- 
acter has  probably  never  been  known  in  the  West  than  this  "  silver- 
tongued  "  adept.  The  public  knowledge  of  this  eccentric  man  on 
the  Pacific  coast  and  in  many  parts  of  the  East  is  varied  and  rich, 
while  the  silent  romance  of  his  existence  transcends  the  limits  of 
apparent  possibility.  Always  more  or  less  in  politics,  from  the  age 
of  California  pioneers  to  the  recent  National  Republican  Conven- 
tion, but  once  in  office,  and  then  a  Congressman  from  Nevada,  it 
is  not  surprising  that  James  G.  Blaine  should  recognize  Mr.  Fitch 
in  his  "  Twenty  Years  of  Congress."  Nevertheless,  the  following 
language  from  one  of  America's  foremost  statesmen  does,  in  a 
measure,  strike  one  with  astonishment : 

"  Thomas  Fitch,  of  Nevada,  was  one  of  the  noticeable  figures  on 
the  Republican  side  of  the  House.  Bom  and  educated  in  New 
York,  he  was  an  editor  in  Wisconsin,  a  merchant  in  Missouri,  a 
miner  on  the  Pacific  slope,  an  editor  in  San  Francisco,  a  member 
of  the  California  Legislature,  a  delegate  in  the  Constitutional  Con- 
vention of  Nevada,  reporter  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  that  State, 
elected  to  Congress — all  before  he  was  thirty  years  of  age.  The 
singular  variety  of  his  career  could  hardly  be  paralleled  outside  of 


124  THE  GLOBE 

the  United  States.  If  his  industry  had  been  equal  to  his  natural 
gifts  he  would  have  been  one  of  the  first  orators  in  the  country." 
Vol.  II.,  page  434. 

Close  observation  of  the  life  of  Mr.  Fitcli  for  more  than  ten 
years  entitles  me  to  the  opinion  that  the  above  passage,  so  far  as 
it  is  complimentary,  is  true  and  just;  but  to  the  extent  that  it  ar- 
raigns its  subject  for  a  lack  of  industry,  is  somewhat  inadvertent, 
since  it  is  often  impossible  to  measure  the  activity  of  a  thinker. 
Physically,  Mr.  Fitch  is  doubtless  an  indolent  man,  but  it  would 
be  contrary  to  all  known  mental  laws  to  presume  that  his  golden 
periods,  such  as  lately  excited  the  editorial  admiration  of  the 
Boston  Herald,  are  not  the  result  of  great  internal  labor  and  intense 
spiritual  concentration.  Surely  the  indisposition  of  the  historian 
Gibbon  for  bodily  activity,  the  utter  aversion  of  Blackstone  to 
physical  exercise,  and  the  downright  indolence  of  Patrick  Henry, 
would  not  be  advanced  in  subtraction  of  their  marvelous  endow- 
ments? The  sublime  restlessness  of  a  Napoleon,  Gladstone  or 
Blaine  is  beautifully  contradicted  by  the  serene  calm  of  an  Emer- 
son, Swedenborg  or  Tennyson,  and  it  is  no  easy  thing  to  lay  down 
a  law  at  once  perfectly  fair  to  the  noble  achievements  of  practical 
energy  and  the  intangible  splendor  of  the  dreamer's  speculative 
world. 

In  this  connection  let  us  note  a  sentence,  taken  at  random,  from 
one  of  Mr.  Fitch's  orations,  delivered  during  the  last  National  cam- 
paign :  "  Time  stands  with  his  hand  on  the  dial  of  the  universe 
and  deals  out  the  days  and  months  and  years  impartially  to  each 
and  all.  If  righteously  employed,  one  brief  life  may  veil  this 
troubled  world  with  a  halo  of  imperishable  glory ;  but  if  left  un- 
counted and  unheeded,  they  pass  us  by  and  are  lost  in  the  night 
of  the  unreturning  past."  But  man  is  greater  than  his  work ;  in 
the  brain  of  the  inventor  are  first  whirled  the  wheels  of  invention, 
in  the  mind  of  the  statesman  the  welfare  of  a  country  first  rests, 
behind  the  visible  products  of  thought  lies  the  invisible  essence  of 
mind,  the  poet  is  the  unseen  Atlas  of  the  sphere  of  his  poem,  the 
artist  is  the  concealed  perspective  of  his  sketch,  the  musician  is 
the  impalpable  soul  of  his  song,  and  the  orator  enfolds  his  oration. 
Whoever  accepts  these  views,  will  find  the  life  of  the  Western 
orator  more  entertaining  than  fiction,  of  more  absorbing  interest 
than  the  forged  facts  of  any  imaginative  literature. 

Mr.  Fitch  comes  of  an  old  English  family,  his  grandfather  hav- 


BETTER  DAYS,  OR  A  MILLIONAIRE  OF  TO-MORROW.    125 

ing  been  Governor  of  Colonial  Connecticut  in  1765,  during  the 
reign  of  George  III.  His  personal  appearance  is  striking  and 
commanding.  A  tall,  heavy  man,  with  luminous  brown  eyes, 
high  and  broad  forehead,  large  mouth,  full  lips,  round  face,  small 
aristocratic  hands  and  feet ;  of  greater  stature  than  Henry  Ward 
Beech  er,  and  smaller  than  Col.  IngersoU,  resembling  both  in  many 
points  of  physiognomy.  The  face,  as  a  whole,  is  indicative  of 
extreme  and  vivid  sensibility,  fluctuating  in  expressions  of  sanguine 
bravery  and  melancholy  doubt.  The  most  careless  observer  of  the 
"  silver-tongued  "  will  be  impressed  with  the  notion  that  he  stands 
in  the  presence  of  a  lone  and  powerful  individuality — a  strange 
combination  of  good  practical  sense  and  mystical  philosophy. 
Where  in  America,  this  modern  Demosthenes  and  Lotus-eater  has 
not  traveled,  resided,  spoken,  practiced  law  or  transacted  business 
of  some  kind,  must  certainly  be  only  that  part  of  the  country 
known  as  "  No  Man's  Land." 

The  period  at  which  Mr.  Blaine  finds  reason  to  remark  that 
"the  singular  variety  of  his  career  could  hardly  be  paralleled  out- 
side of  the  United  States  "  is,  one  might  say,  the  mere  prologue  of 
the  long  and  entertaining  drama.  Beginning  where  Mr.  Blaine 
concluded  his  observation  of  Mr.  Fitch  as  Congressman  from 
Nevada,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  the  latter  is  next  found  courageously 
facing  the  weapons  of  a  professional  duelist  on  the  border  of  Cali- 
fornia and  Nevada  and  patiently  enduring  the  painful  consequence 
of  a  mutual  error.  Recovering  perfect  health,  he  emigrated  to 
Utah,  to  perform  an  unpopular  and  arduous  duty  as  the  retained 
attorney  of  Brigham  Young.  Here  it  is  doubtless  proper  to  state 
that  the  paid  counsel  was  never  in  sympathy  with  the  abhorrent 
domestic  relations  of  the  Mormons,  having,  prior  to  his  residence 
in  Salt  Lake,  married  a  beautiful  and  talented  lady,  with  whom  he 
still  lives  happily.  Remaining  with  the  Prophet  for  something 
over  a  year,  the  eloquent  Gypsy  once  more  "  folds  his  tent  and 
silently  steals  away ; "  presently,  like  another  dreamful  Egyptian, 
he  beholds  the  sunrise  on  the  Sahara  desert,  muses  in  the  shadow 
of  the  Pyramids,  sees  the  caravan's  sinuous  trail  and  invokes  the 
riddle  of  the  Sphinx.  From  Africa  and  Asia  to  Europe  and 
Australia,  thence  to  South  and  Central  America,  to  the  Sandwich 
Islands  and  north  to  British  Columbia,  is  a  general  statement  of 
his  restless  flight  about  fifteen  years  ago. 

Returning  to  California  and  Nevada,  the  sign,  "Thos.  Fitch, 


126  THE  GLOBE. 

Attorney  and  Counselor  at  Law,"  has  since  then  adorned  the 
streets  of  over  five  hundred  mining  camps,  towns  and  cities  in 
the  West.  Like  the  master-poet  of  this  Union,  Joaquin  Miller, 
Mr.  Fitch  has  always  been  a  tireless  rover ;  but  unlike  the  great 
singer,  who  after  receiving  the  plaudits  of  the  elite  of  mankind 
made  him  a  soUtary  hermitage  among  the  hills,  Mr.  Fitch  has  at 
last  gone  to  that  dreary  wilderness  of  humanity  known  as  Chicago, 
later  to  New  York  City,  not  yet  at  rest  on  "  beds  of  amaranth  and 
moly." 

Somewhat  peculiar  is  this  man  Fitch.  Not  a  hero  exactly,  nor 
entitled  to  hero-worship ;  but,  withal,  a  new  and  distinct  person — 
a  being  apart,  whether  he  travel,  write,  or  ravish  multitudes  by  word 
of  mouth.  It  can  be  truly  said  of  him,"  He  hath  a  lightly  moved 
and  all-conceiving  spirit,"  except  that  he  seems  totally  wanting  in 
that  terrible  invective,  that  withering  mockery,  which  makes  an 
enemy  look  mean  and  loathsome.  The  adder  does  not  lurk  under 
tlie  flowers  of  his  language  ;  his  golden  shafts  of  wit  are  not  tipped 
with  poison ;  in  the  mellow  fruits  of  his  thought  no  Dead-Sea 
apples  ever  grow.  His  wit  and  humor,  like  Sydney  Smith's,  are 
pure  and  refined,  yet  of  magical  potency  to  thrill  and  entrance  his 
auditors.  His  imagination  is  lofty  and  oriental.  Many  of  his 
figures  and  periods  are  simply  magnificent,  coming  from  his  lips 
like  solemn  hymns  from  a  cathedral  choir,  moving  like  the  resist- 
less ma,jesty  of  the  ocean  or  dropping  like  the  splendor  of  falling 
stars.  I  have  seen  him  keep  several  thousand  persons  in  a  state 
of  passionate  attention  and  wild  excitement  for  three  full  hours, 
himself,  meanwhile,  calm  and  imperturbable — an  incarnation  of  the 
secret  thoughts  and  feelings  of  all  his  listeners.  On  such  occasions, 
the  great  orator  is  a  matchless  picture  of  inspiration  and  power. 

Thus  has  this  strange,  potent  soul  impressed  countless  minds ; 
and  so  magically  has  he  idealized  the  forms  of  speech,  that, 
barring  his  sure  fame  as  a  writer,  his  memory  and  efforts  as  a 
public  speaker  are  destined  for  transfiguration  in  the  country's 
permanent  literature. 

Edward  E.  Cothran. 


PRAYERS  TO  THE  VIRGIN  AND  THE  SAINTS. 


It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  article  to  enter  into  the  question  of 
the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  nor  even  to  touch 
the  dogma  of  the  miraculous  and  supernatural  conception  of 
Christ ;  nor,  indeed,  to  dwell  in  any  official  sense  upon  the  dogma 
of  Catholic  teaching  regarding  prayers  to  the  Virgin,  or  "  the  wor- 
ship of  Mary,  or  Mariolatry,"  as  Protestants  and  infidels,  in  their 
ignorance,  speak  of  the  beautiful  clistom  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
I  have  a  far  humbler  task  in  view,  viz. :  to  show,  out  of  the  com- 
mon experience  of  the  human  heart,  that  what  Catholics  have 
woven  into  the  beautiful  and  regular  symbolism  of  the  Church, 
all  human  souls,  in  stress  and  trouble,  are  liable  to  do,  as  of  their 
own  natural  volition ;  hence,  that  the  Catholic  habit  of  praying  to 
the  Virgin,  as  indeed  its  various  method  of  worship,  is  but  a  super- 
natural and  well-ordered  and  directed  use  and  education  of  a 
deep,  latent,  God-implanted  instinct  and  force  of  the  human  soul. 

In  the  early  autumn  of  1872,  as  I  was  returning  from  Liverpool 
to  New  York,  in  the  steamship  "  Greece,"  of  the  National  Line,  after 
what  then  seemed  to  me  three  months  of  the  deepest,  indignant 
sorrow  that  a  human  being  could  be  called  to  bear,  and  when  we 
were  about  one  thousand  miles  west  of  mid-ocean,  we  were  caught 
in  the  worst  storm  I  have  ever  experienced  in  my  five  trips  across 
the  Atlantic — a  storm  compared  with  which  all  other  storms  by 
land  or  sea  seem  to  me  as  little  bird  quarrels,  or  the  patter  of  the 
rain-drops  on  the  roof  during  an  ordinary  thunder-shower — a 
storm,  during  which  for  three  mortal  hours  the  heavens  seemed 
to  be  doing  their  utmost  to  lash  the  sea  into  fury,  and  the  sea,  in 
its  madness,  seemed  to  be  doing  its  utmost  to  drag  the  wild,  vexed 
and  troubled  heavens  into  its  own  raving  bosom. 

The  ship  was  very  crowded  with  passengers — some  six  hundred 
in  all,  if  I  remember  correctly — so  that  hammocks  had  to  be  swung 
in  portions  of  the  ship.  I  was  a  late-comer,  and  fortunately  had 
a  hammock  instead  of  a  berth  or  state-room ;  and  I  advise  the 
general  use  of  hammocks  for  all  steamship  companies.  The  ham- 
mock swings  to  the  motion  of  the  ship,  keeps  its  level,  and  keeps 
the  sleeper  in  more  perfect  comfort  than  can  be  otherwise  attained 


128  ^  THE  GLOBE. 

on  a  ship  in  motion,  especially  on  a  ship  in  a  wild  and  mad 
commotion. 

I  had  retired  early,  as  was  my  habit,  and  had  fallen  sound 
asleep  before  any  especial  signs  of  very  rough  weather  had  devel- 
oped themselves;  but  between  11.30  o'clock  and  midnight  I  was 
awakened  by  repeated  sensations  as  of  great  thuds,  and  when  suf- 
ficiently awakened  to  be  intelligently  conscious,  I  felt  sure  the  ship 
was  striking  against  a  rock  in  mid-ocean.  On  opening  my  eyes 
and  ears,  this  impression  was  confirmed  by  the  general  consterna- 
tion prevailing  among  the  passengers.  On  inquiring  what  was  the 
matter,  my  fellow-passengers  said  we  were  wrecked;  a  terrible 
storm  was  raging ;  the  ship  was  given  up  for  lost,  etc.,  etc. 

I  felt  strong  from  my  sleep,  and  said  I  would  go  on  deck  and 
see  the  storm.  My  fellow-travelers  begged  me  not  to  venture,  but 
I  felt  no  fear  and  was  eager  to  see  the  sea  at  its  worst.  So  I 
climbed  to  the  hatchways  and  cautiously  crept  out  on  deck.  It 
was  a  fearful  night.  The  storm  was  just  then  reaching  its  height. 
The  wheelman  had  abandoned  the  wheel  and  the  wheelhouse ; 
the  engines  had  been  stopped  as  useless  in  such  a  sea ;  every  mo- 
ment the  hurricane  was  tearing  the  sails  to  ribbons,  amid  noises 
compared  with  which  the  worst  thunder-storms  of  earth  are  mar- 
tial music ;  the  spars  were  being  swept  from  the  masts,  and  for  a 
moment  I  shrank  back  in  partial  fear.  But  I  clung  to  the  iron 
grating  above  the  sky-lights  and  along  by  the  smoke-stack,  and 
made  my  way  to  a  favorite  spot  under  the  look-out  bridge,  and 
between  the  ladder  leading  to  this  bridge  and  the  doorway  lead- 
ing to  the  room  of  one  of  the  ofiicers  of  the  ship.  I  had  no  sooner 
reached  this  spot  and  gotten  a  firm  hold  on  the  ladder  with  one 
hand  and  a  heavy  brass  ring  in  the  door  with  the  other  hand,  than 
the  first  officer — Spencer,  I  think,  was  his  name — as  he  was 
making  his  way  to  the  hatchway,  turned  his  dark  lantern  in  my 
face  and  shouted  "  Go  below !"  I  was  muffled  up  so  that  he  did 
not  know  me  at  first,  and  instead  of  obeying  I  shouted  back — for 
though  our  faces  almost  touched,  shouting  was  the  only  way  of 
being  heard — I  shouted,  "  It  is  Mr.  Thome,  Mr.  Spencer ;  I  have 
just  come  up  from  my  hammock  on  purpose  to  see  this  storm ;  I 
want  to  write  about  it."  He  replied,  "  Mr.  Thome,  we  are  caught 
in  a  regular  cyclone ;  never  saw  it  worse  in  my  life ;  but  it  will  be 
worse  inside  of  an  hour.  I  advise  you  to  go  below,  but  I  will  not 
force  you."    "Very  well,"  I  said,  "I  will  risk  it."    He  then  left 


PRAYERS  TO  THE  VIRGIN  AND  THE  SAINTS.  129 

me,  soon  reached  the  hatchway  and  disappeared ;  and  then,  for 
two  or  more  hours,  I  was  alone  on  the  deck  of  that  steamship — the 
ship  herself  seeming  hardly  more  than  a  helpless  log,  driJted  and 
beaten,  hither  and  thither,  by  the  mad  and  seething  mountainous 
waves. 

My  theology  at  the  time  was  intensely  Unitarian,  and  I  fear  I 
had  to  some  extent  fallen  into  the  speculative  and  formal  method 
of  praying  usual  to  people  of  that  faith.  But  the  storm  soon  con- 
verted me. 

For  a  longtime,  perhaps  for  half  an  hour,  I  maintained  my  hold 
on  the  ladder  with  one  hand  and  the  ring  with  the  other.  I  was 
on  the  lee,  or  lower  side  of  the  ship ;  for  having  fallen  a  prey  to 
the  winds  and  waves,  she  seemed  to  be  driving  before  the  storm 
with  her  deck  most  of  the  while  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 
Occasionally  she  would  right  a  little ;  but  when  the  great  waves 
and  winds  beat  against  her  windward  side,  the  deck  of  the  lee 
side,  at  the  bulwarks,  was  often  under  the  waves.  At  such  mo- 
ments great  waves  came  over  the  windward  side,  deluging  the 
decks  with  what  seemed  like  burning  water,  for  the  conflict  and 
agitation  of  the  sea  were  so  great  that  phosphoric  beads  of  fire 
floated  thick  on  the  deck,  and  made  it  look  like  a  ship  on  fire. 
At  these  times  I  was  covered,  washed  and  lost  for  a  moment  in 
the  great  waves,  and  as  I  would  crouch  toward  a  sitting  position 
as  the  lee  decks  neared  the  sea,  and  as  the  sea  seemed  about  to 
engulf  me  and  the  ship  also,  I  was  so  beaten  by  the  winds  and 
waves  as  to  be  almost  senseless,  and  my  eyes,  ears  and  mouth 
seemed  full  of  the  warm,  salt,  pitchy  and  angry  water. 

I  thought,  however,  that  it  was  only  a  question  of  grit  and  of 
time ;  that  I  would  hold  on,  and  if  the  ship  went  down  I  should 
be  no  worse  off  than  the  hundreds  of  frightened  souls  below. 
But  in  a  moment,  and  no  doubt  when  I  was  most  confident  of  my 
own  strength,  I  was  just  barely  conscious  that  my  hands  had  lost 
their  hold,  with  a  millionth  part  of  the  resistance  ordinarily  felt 
when  a  child  loosens  its  baby  hold  on  a  man's  strong  hand.  A 
moment  later — perhaps  several  moments,  I  never  knew — I  found 
myself  floating  on  the  deck  in  the  angry  waters ;  found  that  my 
head  was  bleeding ;  that  one  of  my  legs  was  bruised  and  lame ; 
but  I  crawled  back  to  my  old  place  and  considered  how  to  make 
a  stronger  hold.  I  had  not  then  the  strength  or  courage  to  go  be- 
low; but  my  senses  seemed  clearer  than  ever,  and  I  was  now 
thoroughly  aroused  to  my  danger. 


130  THE  GLOBE. 

What  did  I  do  ?  I  wound  or  twined  my  feet  and  legs  about 
that  strong  ladder ;  wound  my  arms  about  it  also ;  clasped  it  and 
clung  to  it  as  if  it  were  fastened  to  me ;  and  then  looked  up  through 
the  storm  and  darkness  and  prayed  to  God  Almighty ;  to  Jesus 
Christ,  regardless  of  creeds;  to  the  Holy  Spirit;  to  the  Virgin 
Mary ;  to  such  of  the  saints  as  I  then  knew ;  even  to  the  spirits 
of  my  own  father  and  mother;  and  prayed  and  prayed,  and  hung 
on  as  if  by  supernatural  power ;  and  about  2.30  a.m.,  when  the 
fearful  storm  had  somewhat  abated,  I  crept  toward  the  hatchway, 
pounded  on  it  with  my  feet  till  it  was  opened,  when  I  slid  down 
into  the  cabin,  where  the  floors  were  flooded,  cabin  doors  stand- 
ing open,  men  and  women  wandering  about,  half  clad  and  half 
crazy  ;  many  of  them  injured  nearly  as  badly  as  myself,  and  I 
saw  that  the  whole  ship's  crew  and  passengers  were  a  cowed  and 
conquered,  helpless  company  of  human  beings,  powerless  and 
prayerful,  all  dependent  on  the  mercy  of  heaven  and  the  waves. 
Heaven  showed  us  mercy  and  we  were  saved. 

Why  relate  this  horrible  story  ?  Simply  to  show  that  a  Protest- 
ant of  the  Protestants,  when  pressed  by  the  fates  or  the  furies, 
will  come  at  once  to  Catholic  ground  and  pray  to  the  Virgin  or 
the  saints  like  the  humblest  worshiper  of  us  all. 

How  do  we  know  that  the  Virgin  and  the  saints  to  whom  we 
pray,  hear  our  prayers  ?  I  might  answer  in  the  same  spirit  that 
prompts  this  inquiry  and  ask,  How  do  we  know  that  God  him- 
self hears  our  prayers  ?  What  do  we  know  of  the  relation  of  mat- 
ter to  spirit ;  or  how  a  purely  Spiritual  Being  can  hear  the  words 
of  our  natural  lips,  or  feel  the  longings  of  our  silent  but  yearning 
and  praying  hearts  ?  So  I  might  go  on  and  ask  more  questions 
on  these  points  than  all  the  philosophers  that  have  ever  lived 
could  answer  wisely;  or  I  might  myself  presume  to  answer  all 
these  questionings  according  to  the  natural  and  supernatural  light 
that  has  come  to  me  during  the  last  generation  of  almost  perpet- 
ual questioning  the  heart  and  tongue  of  nature  on  these  and  kin- 
dred themes.  And  all  that,  though  seeming  wise,  would  defeat 
the  object  of  this  article  and  prolong  it  beyond  the  reader's 
patience  and  mine.  Let  me  then  keep  to  the  simple  theme  of  the 
text. 

A  venerable  priest,  who  has  been  most  patient  with  me  in  the 
transition  questionings  of  the  past  three  or  four  months,  assures 
me  that  all  Catholics,  in  praying  to  the  Virgin  or  to  the  saints. 


PRAYERS  TO  THE  VIRGIN  AND  THE  SAINTS.  131 

firmly  believe  that  God  himself,  in  His  omnipotent  love,  conveys 
our  messages  to  the  Virgin  and  the  saints — so  showing  that  Catho- 
lics do  not  assume  the  omniscience  or  divine  power  of  the  Virgin 
or  the  saints  at  all.  And  if  some  critical  person  should  still  persist 
that  if  God  has  to  convey  our  prayers  to  the  Virgin  and  to  the 
saints  in  order  that  they  may  convey  them  back  again  to  God,  or 
pray  in  other  and,  mayhap,  more  effective  strains  for  us  mortals 
here,  is  there  not  a  needless  circumlocution  ?  The  answer  is  already 
partly  given  in  the  purely  rational  supposition  of  a  higher  and 
purer  faith  on  the  part  of  the  Virgin  and  the  saints,  and  still  fur- 
ther answered  in  the  fact  that  it  is  the  faithful,  trusting  attitude 
of  prayer  that  brings  and  keeps  the  soul  nearer  and  nearer  to 
God ;  and  that  if  there  is  a  bond  of  human  sympathy  leading  our 
souls  upward,  through  the  blessed  Virgin,  through  the  saints  and 
martyrs,  through  the  memories  of  the  heroic  dead  of  our  own 
blood,  shall  we  not  use  this  beautiful  human  sympathy  in  the 
sacredest,  holiest,  and  sweetest  of  all  human  attitudes,  that  of 
humble,  trusting,  believing,  pleading,  earnest  prayer  for  those  we 
love  on  earth,  and  for  the  sanctifying  of  our  own  souls  ?  In  a 
word,  the  nearness  and  beauty  of  human  sympathy  between  the 
world's  best  who  have  died,  yet  conquered  death  by  their  love 
and  virtue ;  the  nearness  of  human  sympathy  between  these  and 
our  own  praying  hearts,  is  of  itself  sufficient  argument  for  our 
clinging  to  them  and  praying  to  them  in  our  richest  moments 
here ;  and  it  would  be  next  to  blasphemy  of  heaven  and  its  eter- 
nal laws  to  hint  that  the  sympathy  and  intercession  of  such  souls 
for  us  would  be  unavailing  before  the  throne  of  God.  In  truth, 
it  would  be  denying  one  of  the  sublimest  and  deepest  and  most 
beautiful  laws  of  the  natural  and  spiritual  universe,  to  assume 
that  the  spiritual  influence  of  the  best,  redeemed  and  glorified 
souls  of  the  race,  had  lost  its  power  with  God,  or  that  they  had  not 
more  power  in  heaven  than  those  of  us  who  are  still  struggling 
with  adversity  and  darkness  and  temptation,  and  our  bodily  needs 
here  on  this  cross  of  Christrcrowned  and  beautiful  world. 

A  foolish  Protestant  woman  said  to  me,  three  or  four  years  ago, 
in  her  vulgar  hatred  of  Catholics,  "  The  idea  of  praying  to  the 
Virgin  Mary !  The  idea !  As  if  she  had  more  influence  with  God 
than  I  have !"  And  yet,  my  friends,  if  we  think  for  a  moment  that 
this  same  Virgin  Mary  was  the  mother  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
who,  even  by  orthodox  Protestants  is  worshiped  as  God,  can  we 


132  THE  GLOBE. 

imagine  for  a  moment  that  such  a  mother  of  such  a  God — the  love- 
liest incarnation  of  the  Supreme  Love,  or  God  of  Love,  of  the  uni- 
verse— can  we  imagine  that  such  a  mother  of  such  a  God  would  or 
could  in  the  economies  of  a  spiritual  universe — ruled  by  the  sim- 
plest laws  of  the  survival  and  rule  of  the  fittest  and  greatest — can 
we  imagine  that  such  a  mother  of  such  a  God  would  simply  have 
a  common  woman's  influence  in  the  star-spaces  of  the  heavenly 
kingdoms  of  the  human  soul  ?  The  thought  is  preposterous,  and 
too  absurd  and  too  contrary  to  all  the  laws  of  the  relative  forces  of 
the  universe,  and  too  contrary  to  the  common-sense  of  mankind 
to  be  entertained  far  an  hour,  that  is,  by  any  human  being  to 
whom  the  truth  of  the  person  and  power  and  place  and  glory  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  had  once  been  revealed. 

I  might  appeal  to  the  tender  sympathy  of  worship  that  this 
habit  of  prayer  to  and  adoration  of  the  Virgin  has  brought  into  the 
devotions  of  Christendom ;  but  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  appeal- 
ing to  the  esthetics  of  religion  for  my  arguments  or  in  my  deal- 
ings with  mankind.  I  recognize  that  in  some  sense  the  love  of 
God,  the  heart  of  God,  the  sacred  heart  of  Christ,  as  pure  and  ten- 
der, incarnate  love,  is  at  the  center  of  and  that  it  rules  the  uni- 
verse in  sweetest  mercy ;  and  so  from  this  might  show  that  the 
adoration  of  the  Virgin,  as  the  mother  of  this  spotless  love  on 
earth,  had  not  only  a  place  in  reason,  but  in  the  glowing  heart  of 
mankind.  But  I  love  to  dwell  on  the  arguments  that  neither  men 
nor  devils  can  gainsay,  viz.,  the  arguments  based  upon  eternal 
laws  and  the  common-sense  of  mankind,  and  by  these  laws  pray- 
ers to  the  Virgin  and  adoration  of  the  Virgin  are  as  reasonable  as 
the  clearest  laws  of  mathematics  or  the  love  of  children  for  their 
parents  here  in  this  world. 

But  do  prayers  to  the  Virgin  and  worship  of  the  Virgin,  and 
of  the  saints,  constitute  veneration  of  the  Virgin  and  of  the  saints  ? 
And  are  Catholics  idolaters,  as  Protestants  constantly  aver — not 
only  worshiping  the  Virgin  and  the  saints,  but  the  images  of  these  ? 
Perhaps  I  had  better  not  touch  the  subject  of  images  in  this  arti- 
cle, though  every  Catholic  child  knows  that  they  are  used  only  as 
we  all  use  photographs  of  our  loved  ones,  to  bring  us  nearer  and 
quicker  to  the  faces  of  our  loves.  But  to  the  question.  Here, 
again,  the  b^st  answer  is  that  all  Catholics  are  taught  in  their  child- 
hood the  difference  between  the  veneration  paid  to  the  saints  and 
the  devotion  paid  to  the  Virgin — the  plain  and  simple  difference 


PRAYERS  TO  THE  VIRGIN  AND  THE  SAINTS.  133 

between  these  in  emotion  and  utterance,  and  that  higher  and 
more  exalted  and  exclusive  and  supreme  worship  and  adoration 
paid  to  God  alone. 

A  referenceto  Article  VI  of  Cosmothei8m,inTHEGLOBE,  No.  8,  will 
prove  to  any  reasonable  being  that  I,  at  all  events,  ought  not  to 
object  to  the  veneration  of  the  Virgin  or  the  saints.  Of  course  I  do 
not  refer  to  Cosmotheism  here  to  defend  it.  I  wrote  it  when  I 
had  no  more  thought  of  becoming  a  Catholic  than  I  had  of  be- 
coming God  himself,  and  whatever  there  is  in  it  contrary  to  the 
true  Catholicism  of  the  Church,  I  here  and  now  voluntarily  re- 
nounce, without  ever  having  been  asked  to  do  so.  But  in  said 
article  the  reader  will  find,  among  other  notions,  that  "  while  wor- 
ship of  superior  by  inferior  beings  is  lawful  and  elevating,  the 
true  worship  is  that  of  the  eternal  spirit  of  God  alone."  Hence, 
as  the  Virgin  was,  must  have  been,  one  of  the  superior  souls  of 
the  race,  queen  of  the  hearts  of  the  race — the  supreme  mother  of 
the  Supreme  God  of  the  race — surely  veneration  and,  mayhap,  wor- 
ship, tender  as  the  worship  of  God  himself,  may  be,  must  be,  will 
be,  forever  given  to  this  Queen — mother  of  earth  and  of  heaven. 

Again,  all  readers  of  modern  critical  history  and  philosophy 
know  that  the  habit  of  the  human  race  for  countless  ages  has 
been  to  worship  its  ancestors ;  so  that  the  best  of  modern  philo- 
sophic scholars,  alike  with  Cosmotheism,  trace  the  origin  of  all 
natural  religions  to  parental  and  ancestral  worship,  growing  by 
degrees  into  hero-worship,  or  the  worship  of  the  bravest  and  wisest 
and  noblest  of  ancestors ;  so  on  to  the  highest  natural  worship  of 
mankind.  But  if  this  be  true — and  its  general  truthfulness  no  in- 
telligent scholar  can  deny — then,  surely,  in  this  great  supernatural 
religion  of  Christianity,  where  God  himself  deigned  to  be  born  of 
a  woman  into  our  human  mould  and  meaning,  surely  the  woman 
of  whom  this  God  was  bom  should  stand  highest  in  the  great 
pantheon  of  the  natural  and  supernatural  adorations  of  the  world. 

In  a  word,  as  I  said  in  The  Globe,  No.  7,  it  looks  not  any 
longer  to  me  like  Rome  or  Reason,  but  Rome  and  Reason — in  a 
word,  that  the  Catholic  Church  is  at  once  the  New  Jerusalem  of 
the  heart  and  mind  of  God  and  of  mankind. 

Yet  I  do  not  wonder  that  Protestants  oppose  and  ridicule  this 

veneration  of,  and  these  prayers  to,  the  Virgin.    The  whole  system 

of  Protestant  orthodox  theology  and  worship  is  beautifully  loyal 

to  the  apparent  discrimination  of  the  Scriptures  in  favor  of  wor- 

10 


134  THE  OLOBE. 

ship  to  be  paid  to  God  alone ;  and  as  they  do  not  know  of  the 
exact  distinctions  between  veneration  and  worship  herein  referred 
to,  and  as  much  of  their  teaching  and  learning  is  in  ignorant  pre- 
judice against  the  Catholic  Church,  they  come  naturally  by  the 
prejudice  indicated.  The  distinctions  I  have  made  make  this 
matter  plain,  and  the  philosophy  of  history,  and  the  laws  of  na- 
ture and  the  universe,  justify  the  Catholic  habit  and  position. 

Again,  I  should  be  the  last  man,  and  I  will  be  the  last  man  on 
earth,  to  treat  this  Protestant  prejudice  with  anything  but  the 
kindliest  of  charity. 

For  more  than  a  dozen  years  I  had  frequently  attended  Catho- 
lic services,  as  elsewhere  indicated.  I  had  been  inspired,  almost 
glorified,  by  its  devotional  music ;  had  been  brought  back  to  re- 
newed and  trusting  faith  by  its  altar  ser^dces ;  had  felt  time  and 
again  that,  logically,  I  ought  to  be  in  its  membership,  as  it  was  to 
me  the  dearest  and  most  perfect  Church  of  God  in  Christ  on  this 
earth  ;  and  yet  up  to  within  two  or  three  months  the  prayers  and 
responses  to  the  Virgin  always  ofiended  me,  as  a  sort  of  slight  to 
the  Saviour  and  to  Almighty  God.  And  it  was  not  until  during 
the  month  of  May  of  this  year,  while  worshiping  in  the  beautiful 
chapel  of  the  Dominican  Sisters  at  Sinsinawa,  Wisconsin,  that 
the  words  of  the  priest  and  the  responses  of  the  audience — 
"  Hail,  Mary,  full  of  grace !  the  Lord  is  with  thee ;  blessed  art 
thou  among  women  and  blessed  is  the  fruit  of  thy  womb  " — came 
to  my  ears  as  the  words  of  the  angel  announcing  to  Mary  the 
first  great  mystery  of  the  world's  redemption.  Then,  however, 
immediately,  I  said  to  my  soul,  "  If  those  words  were  addressed 
to  Mary  by  an  angel  of  God,  nearly  nineteen  hundred  years  ago, 
even  before  she  had  become  the  mother  of  our  Lord,  and  before 
all  the  blessed,  world-wide,  notable  victories  that  have  attended 
her  God-son's  life  on  this  earth,  surely  /,  a  believer  in  all  worship 
of  superior  by  inferior  beings,  surely  I  can  use  these  words,"  and  I 
have  used  them  daily  from  that  hour  to  this. 

Again,  Comtism,  or  Positivism,  so-called,  which,  under  the  un- 
spiritual  clap-trap  reign  of  Mr.  Harrison,  in  London,  claims  to  be  a 
sort  of  an  advanced  religion  of  advanced  minds,  has  from  the  first 
exalted  our  common  womanhood  to  the  position  of  an  object — in 
fact  the  object  to  be  worshiped  in  this  world — and  I  was  one  of 
the  first  to  point  out  the  absurdity  of  this  position,  after  reading 
Comt,  some  twenty-five  years  ago ;  but  if  this  is  the  last  resort  of 
the  modem  exalted  understanding,  surely  Catholics  may  be  ex- 


PRAYEBS  TO  THE  VIRGIN  AND  THE  SAINTS.  135 

cused  for  fostering  a  tender  veneration  toward  the  supremest  woman 
and  the  supremest  mother  of  the  human  race.  If  we  may  worship 
common  womanhood  with  all  its  frailties,  surely  we  may  adore 
the  best  of  it  in  the  Mother  of  the  Redeemer  of  our  redeemed  souls. 

There  is  still  another  thought,  the  outgrowth  of  modem  culture, 
that  should  appeal  to  our  reason  in  justification  of  the  beautiful 
veneration  and  devotion  offered  by  the  Catholic  Church  to  the 
Virgin  mother  of  redemption,  the  thought,  viz.,  that  this  adoration 
seems  to  have  been  the  groundwork  of  what  in  modern  parlance 
is  called  the  elevation  of  woman  in  modern  society.  I  am  not  an 
enthusiastic  advocate  of  this  latter  position,  that  women  are  finding 
an  exceptional  elevation  in  modern  society.  As  I  read  the  history 
of  Egypt,  Asia,  Israel,  Greece,  Rome,  and  the  modern  nations  of 
Europe,  it  seems  to  me  that  good  and  wise  and  gifted  women 
were  as  numerous,  in  proportion  to  population,  in  the  old  nations, 
as  they  are  in  our  own  nations  of  modern  times ;  and  good  women 
and  wise  women  were,  alone,  ever  worthy  of  being  honored  or  ele- 
vated. We  are  honoring  and  elevating  many  that  are  neither  good 
nor  wise  in  our  day.  But  apart  from  this  there  seems  tb  be  some 
ground  of  verity  in  the  suggestion  that  few  women  figured  as 
heroines  in  the  literature  of  the  old  times.  Homer  sang  only  of 
men  and  the  deeds  of  m^n,  it  is  true  in  defense  of  a  beautiful 
woman;  and  the  wife  of  Ulysses  is  something  of  a  heroine;  and  I 
doubt  not,  the  wives  and  mothers  of  the  heroes  of  Thermopylae 
were  noble  women.  Indeed,  my  own  view  is,  that  in  all  nations 
the  women  were  always  relatively,  and  in  their  way  and  sphere,  as 
gifted  as  the  men,  and  duly  honored.  And  the  Scriptures  are  full 
of  touches  that  reveal  true  and  faithful  and  gifted  women,  from  the 
days  of  Ruth  to  Esther,  to  Mary,  the  mother  of  God ;  but  in  secular 
literature  we  hardly  have  a  lovable  heroine  till  Virgil,  the  esthetic 
poet  of  Rome,  gives  us  his  Dido. 

In  truth  the  genius  of  the  whole  earth  was  changing  in  Virgil's 
day.  The  visions  of  the  old  prophets  were  breaking  through  the 
clouded  skies  of  human  perception,  and  were  soon  to  dawn  upon 
the  darkened  face  of  mankind.  Soon  a  Virgin  was  to  be  with 
child — a  child  whose  sweetness,  inherited  as  well  from  the  mother 
as  held  by  right  of  eternal  divinity,  was  slowly  but  surely,  as  a 
supreme  vision  of  God,  to  brighten  and  lighten  and  glorify  the  face 
of  the  world. 

Still  our  world-literature  waited  for  its  fairest  heroines,  and  it 
was  not  until  after  the  Middle  Ages — so  often  and  so  foolishly  called 


136  THE  GLOBE. 

"  the  Dark  Ages" — it  was  not  until  after  the  days  of  feudalism  and 
gallantry,  out  of  which  the  veneration  of  the  Virgin  and  the  expla- 
nation of  it  were  fully  developed,  that  our  Dantes,  our  Shakespeares, 
our  Goethes,  our  Raphaels,  and  the  rest,  painted  and  sang  for  us  the 
heroines  whose  loves  and  beauties  and  fidelities  have  captured  the 
admiration  of  the  world. 

I  hold  that  without  the  previous  exaltation  of  Mary — ^the  mother 
of  redemption,  mother  of  saints  and  all  that  is  most  angelic  in 
modern  motherhood,  wifehood  and  womanhood — this  beautiful 
exaltation  of  woman  in  modern  literature  and  modem  life  never 
had  been.  In  a  word,  by  the  subtlest  laws  of  human  history,  that  is 
by  the  law  of  God,  by  the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus, 
his  Virgin  mother  is  rightful  Queen  of  our  modem  exaltation  of 
womanhood,  hence  worthy  the  loving  veneration  of  the  world. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


MY  HEART'S  DESIRE. 

FxY,  Hassan,  steed  of  swiftness, 

Across  the  desert  sands  ! 
So  moveless,  to  my  longing. 

The  date-palm's  shadow  stands ! 
And  still  the  heat  of  mid-day 
Thrills  my  impatient  hands : 

Yet,  Sunset  on  her  blazing  lyre 

Has  swept  the  chords  of  heart's  desire. 

Unpressed  the  silken  cushions 
Lie  by  the  fountain's  rim, 
While  weeps  the  tinkling  water 

Its  jeweled  tears  for  him : 
My  lips  are  sweet  with  perfume, 
Mine  eyes  with  passion  dim, — 

Ah,  hasten,  love  !  thy  glance  of  fire 
Mates  with  the  flame  of  heart's  desire! 

As  from  the  Prophet's  tower 

Echoes  the  call  to  prayer, 
The  western  gleam  grows  narrow, 

A  scimitar  laid  bare, — 
And  look !  a  snowy  caftan 

Cut*  through  the  twilight  air  I 

The  scarlet  of  my  cheek  leaps  higher 
To  touch  thy  lips,  my  heart's  desire ! 
Qardiner,  Maine.  Evelyn  L.  Gilmore. 


THE  MEDITATIVE  POETS. 


Perhaps  there  is  no  surer  test  of  genius  than  its  power  to  sway 
the  minds  of  men.  That  eloquence  is  a  failure  which  wrings 
from  the  hearer  only  soft  approval — a  meed  of  slender  admiration 
amounts  to  little  more — but  the  fiery  impulse  that  sweeps  over  the 
multitude,  making  all  of  one  mind,  crushing  prejudice,  bowing 
stubborn  wills,  forcing  conviction,  however  unwelcome,  this  proves 
the  orator's  mastery  over  his  fellows.  "  The  king's  heart,"  saith 
the  Scripture,  "  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  as  the  rivers  of  water. 
He  turneth  it  whithersoever  he  will."  The  man  who  possesses 
this  dominating  force  in  any  measure,  even  the  smallest,  has  a 
spiritual  gift,  strangely  approaching  the  Divine. 

Years  ago,  in  the  days  of  the  Rebellion,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  Wendell  Phillips  lecture  in  Boston.  He  handled  the  topics 
of  the  time,  in  his  own  way,  dealing  out  censure  of  Secretary 
Stanton,  criticisms  on  the  course  of  Lincoln  himself,  denunciations 
of  the  profitable  jobbery  jeopardizing  the  promised  success  of  the 
campaign,  and,  in  short,  bitter  complaints  on  every  side.  Some  of 
these  seemed  groundless,  but  many  well  based,  as  his  hearers  knew. 
Nothing  more  unpopular  could  have  been  devised.  The  nation's 
love  for  Lincoln,  its  instinctive  trust  in  him,  were  too  strong  in 
that  or  any  audience,  for  human  attack.  Yet  the  grace  of  oratory 
never  had  fuller  triumph.  The  vast  throng  listened  spell-bound, 
and  applauded  in  their  own  despite;  recognizing  the  moral 
grandeur  of  the  man  as  paramount,  be  his  attitude  what  it  might 
on  any  single  topic.  The  silver  tongue,  the  entrancing  charm, 
worked  their  will — though  against  odds — simply  tremendous.  I 
did  not  myself  comprehend  how  great  a  scene  I  had  witnessed, 
until  it  was  over.  As  the  human  tide  surged  out  upon  the  streets 
a  reaction  came.  Bitter  words  rose  from  every  quarter.  "  These 
people  are  irritated,"  I  observed  to  my  companion.  He  smiled  at 
my  Kennebec  innocence.  "Yes;  but  for  all  that,"  he  explained, 
"  if  Phillips  would  speak  again  in  this  hall,  to-morrow  night,  these 
very  people  would  come  again  to  listen." 

The  great  artist  imposes  upon  others  his  own  mood  of  mind,  in 
the  same  potent  way.    The  "Angelus"  of  Millet,  for  example,  beauti- 


138  TUE  GLOBE. 

ful  in  tone  and  composition  to  be  sure,  yet  in  these  points  not 
outranking  other  works  of  art,  becomes  great  through  this  over- 
mastering influence.  Its  soft  twilight  falls  on  us  like  a  touch  of 
peace,  its  reverence  dominates  our  willfulness;  we  seem  to  hear  its 
distant  chimes,  "the  bells  in  heaven,  ringing  over  the  river,"  our 
money-making  schemes,  our  cheap  worldliness,  retire  abashed,  and 
we  bow  our  heads  in  sudden  subjugation. 

The  works  of  the  meditative  poets  hold  us  with  a  similar  en- 
chantment. They  lead  into  woodland  paths  of  sober  reflectiveness, 
calm  as  nature  herself  is  calm.  Their  tone  is  not  melancholy,  but 
steadfast  and  serious.  It  stands  related  to  other  equally  poetic 
strains  of  passion  and  power,  as  pale  blue  to  scarlet,  holding  the 
opposite  end  of  the  scale. 

As  Goethe  voices  the  Welt-Geist  of  his  own  and  all  time,  and 
Byron  the  mighty  swell  of  the  French  Revolution,  so  these,  also, 
have  a  message  of  eternal  import.  The  real  strength  of  such 
writers,  among  whom  we  may  number  Goldsmith,  Gray,  Thomson 
and  Cowper — Wordsworth  being  facile  princeps — lies  in  their  power 
of  dealing  poetically  with  philosophic  thought.  The  intuitive  in- 
sight, the  swift-winged  instinct  of  poetry,  naturally  at  odds  with 
the  cool,  dispassionate  methods  of  philosophy,  are  made  to  coalesce 
with  the  latter,  working  to  the  same  end;  and  this,  through  the 
supreme  perception  that  both  are  parts  of  the  same  Divine  harmony, 
the  same  essential  truth  being  attained  by  opposite  processes. 
Wordsworth  indicates  this  in  his  beautiful  sonnet  upon  "Ships  at 
Sea."  His  favorite  craft  steers  "due  north,"  drawn  toward  the 
silent,  icy  pole — the  center  of  uncomprehended  verities. 

His  philosophy,  too,  has  the  merit  of  being  clearly  expressed, 
an  advantage  poetry  may  well  lend  to  metaphysics. 

"The  world  is  too  much  with  us;  late  and  soon 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers." 

And  old  Diogenes,  peeping  from  his  tub,  did  he  not,  in  that 
strange  object-lesson,  practically  say  the  same  to  the  listeners  of 
his  time?  It  is  the  philosopher's  altitude,  and  must  be  such  in 
all  ages. 

By  reason  of  his  calm,  observant  habits,  Wordsworth  was  able 
to  watch  the  sequence  of  his  own  mental  processes  and  map  them 
out  distinctly.  He  turns  the  camera  upon  his  own  mind  and 
photographs  its  workings,  conducting  the  process  with  the  same 
ac5curacy  which  he  brings  to  bear  on  sky  or  mountain. 


THE  M EDIT  A  TI VE  POETS.  1 39 

"  For  I  have  learnetl 
To  look  on  Nature  not  ns  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  8tUl,  sad  music  of  humanily — 
Not  harsh,  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 
To  chasten  and  subdue.    And  I  have  felt 
A  presence  thai  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts;  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns. 
And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  the  mind  of  man : 
A  motion  and  a  spirit  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things." 

Again,  in  the  same  poem,  composed  "near  Tinturn  Abbey,"  he 
describes  a  similar  experience : 

"  Though  absent  long, 
These  forms  of  beauty  have  not  been  to  me 
As  is  a  landscape  to  a  blind  man's  eye." 

"  I  have  owed  to  them 
In  hours  of  weariness  sensations  sweet. 
Felt  in  the  blood  and  felt  along  the  heart ; 
And  passing  even  into  my  purer  mind 
With  tranquil  restoration  : — ■Jeeling&,  loo, 
Of  unremembered  pleasure  ;  such,  perhaps, 
As  may  have  had  no  trivial  influence 
On  that  best  portion  of  a  good  man's  life, 
His  little,  nameless,  unremembered  acts 
Of  kindness  and  of  love.     Nor  less,  I  trust, 
To  them  I  may  have  owed  another  gift 
Of  aspect  more  sublime ;  that  blessed  mood, 
In  which  the  burthen  of  the  mystery, 
In  which  the  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all  this  unintelligible  world 
Is  lightened ; — that  serene  and  blessM  mood 
In  which  th'  affections  gently  lead  us  on — 
Until,  the  breath  of  this  corporeal  frame, 
And  even  the  motion  of  our  human  blood 
Almost  suspended,  we  are  laid  asleep 
In  body,  and  become  a  living  soul  : 
While  with  an  eye  made  quiet  by  the  power 
Of  harmony  and  the  deep  power  of  joy 
We  see  into  the  life  of  things." 

In  his  tiny  poem  on  "  Echoes,"  he  gives  us  a  touch  worthy  of 


140  THE  GLOBE. 

note,  having  strong  flavor  of  that  loftier  vision,  which  is  spiritual 

insight. 

"  We  have 
Answers  and  we  know  not  whence ; 
Echoes  from  beyond  tlie  grave, 
Recognized  intelligence. 

"  Such  within  ourselves  we  hear 

Ofttimes ;  ours,  though  sent  from  far  ; 

Listen,  ponder,  hold  them  dear, 
For  of  God — of  God  they  are  !" 

Though  pre-eminently  the  poet  of  Nature,  in  his  loving  inter- 
pretation of  her  moods,  Wordsworth  attempts  few  detailed  descrip- 
tions of  actual  scenery.  His  strength  lies  in  beautiful  touches 
which  seem  to  drop  in,  here  and  there,  by  pure  accident.  They 
come  in  single  lines  or  even  phrases  of  a  word  or  so.  Such  are 
the  ones  De  Quincy  notes,  that  of  the  cataract "  frozen  into  silence  " 
by  its  remoteness,  and  that  wherein  the  bard  describes  a  distant 
patch  of  tillage  as  "  a  spot  of  stationary  sunshine."  In  praising 
Luc}'',  he  suddenly  gives  us  a  conception  that  is  simply  exquisite : 

"  And  beauty,  born  of  murmuring  sound, 
Shall  pass  into  her  face." 

These  lines  evidently  occur  to  him  in  the  general  tide  of  compo- 
sition. He  does  not  bring  them  from  afar,  to  be  inserted  in  tell- 
ing places ;  nor  is  his  style  anywhere  indicative  of  other  than  nat- 
ural methods  of  work.  The  elaboration  of  Thomson,  the  studied 
finish  of  Gray  are  none  of  his.  Yet,  with  all  three  of  these  men, 
the  sweet  rural  charm  of  England — its  moist  climate,  its  hills  and 
fells  dripping  with  dew,  its  daisies  and  whiteness  of  scented  haw- 
thorn— is  felt  through  every  verse  they  write.  A  soft  woodland 
fragrance,  a  glimmer  of  dancing  waterfalls,  late  calm  of  russet  leaf- 
age, or  a  pathos  of  great,  setting  suns,  tint  and  tone  their  thought. 
Truly,  the  poet  outranks  the  painter  and  musician,  who  speak  to 
eye  and  ear,  and  may  therefore  fail  of  response.  His  empire  is  of 
the  soul.     And  therein  he  wields  direct  authority. 

Thomson  far  excels  Wordsworth  in  actuality  of  detail.  In  what 
the  critics  of  to-day  call "  realism  "  he  is  unsurpassed.  The  spiritual 
touch  may  be  somewhat  lacking, — 

"  The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration  and  the  poet's  dream;" 

but,  when  it  becomes  a  question  of  fact,  his  fidelity  in  minute  de- 


THE  MEDITATIVE  POETS.  141 

scription  challenges  admiration,  like  the  work  of  the  old  Dutch 
painters.  Nor  does  he  disappoint  us  in  the  qualities  of  warmth 
and  vividness.  Perhaps  few  passages  are  comparable  to  his  lines 
depicting  a  summer  dawn : 

"  The  meek-eyed  Mom  appears,  mother  of  dews, 
At  first  faint-gleaming  in  the  dappled  East." 

And  80  on,  the  context  being  too  familiar  for  citation. 

Ck)wper  differs  from  the  other  writers  of  this  group  in  his  choice 
of  subjects,  though  the  finish  and  music  of  his  verse,  together  with 
its  contemplative  tone,  show  that  he  belongs  among  them.  To 
many  people,  indeed,  "  the  Seasons  are  a  task  and  the  Task  out 
of  season."  Yet  these  are  none  the  less  admirers  of  WilUam  Cow- 
per,  caught  by  the  rollicking  measure  of"  John  Gilpin,"  or  touched 
by  the  heart-break  of  "  The  Castaway."  In  a  certain  tenderness 
of  feeling  Cowper  yields  to  none,  though  Wordsworth,  too, 
through  the  harmonies  of  Nature,  hears  continuously  "  the  still, 
sad  music  of  humanity."  It  seems  strange  to  imagine  so  lofty  a 
poet  versifying  the  childish  persistence  of  the  little  maid,  who 
said,  "  0  master !  we  are  seven."  Yet  these  plain  subjects  seem 
to  attract  him  beyond  measure.  Now  and  then  he  is  successful 
with  them,  as  in  the  example  given ;  but  far  more  frequently  his 
lack  of  dramatic  power  and  his  theories,  which  hamper  him  at 
every  turn,  lead  him  to  deal  with  them  in  a  singular  fashion,  both 
feeble  and  unpoetic.  To  idealize  a  subject  like  "  The  Idiot  Boy  " 
is  frankly  impossible.  Art  has  its  own  limits,  and  in  overstep- 
ping these  even  the  giant  intellect  must  falter. 

Goldsmith,  who  has  far  more  bonhomie  and  knowledge  of  man- 
kind, gives  us  character-touches  marked  by  fine  native  simplicity 
—for  what  Wordsworth  aims  at  he  actually  attains ;  yet  he,  also, 
plainly  thinks  that  dramatic  force  is  out  of  place  save  in  a  tale  or 
play. 

The  exquisite  polish  of  Gray's  verse-work,  like  that  of  antique 
statuary,  our  impatient  modern  world  will  hardly  see  reproduced. 
Time  gave  the  "  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard  "  its  slow,  pro- 
found perfection,  and  the  lapse  of  time  only  deepens  our  admira- 
tion of  it.  Poems  have  been  written  and  poems  forgotten — alack, 
how  many ! — since  Gray  wandered  up  and  down  under  the  Ox- 
ford elms. 

To  be  sure,  a  coldness,  as  of  marble,  inheres  in  his  productions, 


142  THE  GLOBE. 

and  some  minds  recoil  from  their  purity  and  precision ;  yet  this 
cannot  fairly  be  called  a  blemish,  being  essential  to  their  struc- 
ture, nay,  to  their  actual  being.  As  he  meditates  on  his  great 
theme — whose  significance  remains  the  same  through  the  ages, 
since  we  never  outgrow  Death's  fearful  kingship — the  hurrying 
world  stops,  its  clock  stands  still,  as  if  by  his  mandate,  while, 
with  the  poet,  it  forecasts  "  the  inevitable  hour."  Into  the  whirl 
of  business,  into  its  tumult  of  money-getting,  the  "  Elegy  "  strikes 
like  a  deep-tolling  bell,  and  Mammon  himself  bows  abashed. 
VV^hatever  may  come  or  go,  this  poet  and  this  theme  have  won  an 
audience. 

As  a  group,  these  meditative  poets  impress  us  by  what  may  be 
termed  a  beautiful  reasonableness.  They  persuade  us  with  grave 
argument,  charm  us  with  poetic  flights,  holding  us  with  firm  men- 
tal clasp,  their  main  characteristic  being,  as  we  have  said,  a  slow, 
intense  pondering  on  the  great  issues  of  life,  and  the  greater  trans- 
formation of  death.  At  times,  they  rush  into  sudden  enthusiasms 
or  firefly  touches  of  fancy,  as  in  Wordsworth's  dancing  "  Dafib- 
dils" — a  lovely  instance  of  the  lightness  possible  even  to  the 
heavy  thinker — yet  the  problems  of  destiny,  man's  relations  God- 
ward,  the  combinations  and  vicissitudes  of  life  in  their  pressure 
upon  the  soul,  and  the  latter  in  its  final  triumph  or  defeat — these 
are  the  themes  that  dwarf  all  others.  They  drive  lesser  topics 
into  the  child's  play-ground  of  triviality,  themselves  demanding 
for  due  consideration  all  possible  outlay  of  time,  together  with  the 
soul-rest  of  an  unperturbed  spirit. 

Such  men  of  meditation  are  the  poets  for  us — and  for  the  ages. 
And  the  reason  is  not  far  to  seek.  Even  in  practical  concerns, 
the  mere  afiairs  of  every  day,  we  dare  not  take  counsel  of  the 
brilliant  man,  the  frivolous  man,  or  the  enthusiast.  We  know 
better.  It  is  plain,  even  to  us,  that  the  storm-tossed  bark  can 
take  no  soundings. '  We  seek  out,  at  any  cost,  the  tranquil  friend, 
whose  words  are  wisdom.  In  poetic  matters  the  same  instinct 
guides  us.  It  tells  us  that  light  and  spiritual  guidance  are  not  in 
the  gift  of  fiery  natures.  For  who  would  dream,  in  his  maddest 
moods,  of  Shelley  or  Burns  or  Swinburne,  as  safe  or  able  pio- 
neers in  the  higher  realms  of  thought  ?  Who  would  trust  them  to 
solve  problems,  wholly  unapproachable  save  in  the  stillness  of  a 
Divine  Presence? 

The  graver  men  treat  these  reverently,  yet  with  a  strange, 


A  TOUCH  OF  NATURE.  143 

luminous  intellifrence.  They  have  walked  hand-in-hand  with 
them,  as  it  were,  for  scores  of  years.  The  great  deeps  of  poetry, 
its  corresponding  heights,  peopled  with  visions  of  the  absolute 
and  supreme,  the  secrets  of  the  universe,  including  that  essential 
beauty  thereof,  which,  even  to  the  poet,  only  eternity  shall  fully 
reveal — these  all  lie  unfolded  like  a  map  of  the  stars  before  their 
wondering  vision.  For  the  great  poet  is  filled  with  awe  and  steps 
softly  by  virtue  of  his  very  greatness.  To  the  bowed  head  comes 
a  touch  of  sainthood,  and  its  laurels  are  woven  of  pure  light. 

The  republication  of  Wordsworth's  Sonnets,  with  Abbey's 
lovely  illustrations,  in  one  of  our  leading  periodicals,  would  seem 
to  indicate  a  higher  general  regard,  of  late,  for  these  writers  and 
their  thoughtful  work.  Our  younger  authors,  too,  might  do  far 
worse  than  to  consider  the  beauty  of  "  Gray's  Elegy  "  with  refer- 
ence to  the  patient  poetic  art  behind  it.  Amid  the  hurried  verse 
of  to-day,  rushed  into  print  headlong,  heedless  of  imperfections 
which  care  might  save,  is  there  not  much  to  be  learned  from  these 
ancient,  calmer,  and  slower-moving  poets?  The  comet,  to  be 
sure,  has  its  orbit;  but  the  planets  and  sun-centers  have  also 
theirs.     Nor  can  we  doubt  which  are  the  greater. 

Caroline  D.  Swan. 


A  TOUCH  OF  NATURE. 


Thou  gatheiest  the  waters  up  from  the  rivers  and  the  oceans, 

Into  the  cloud-spaces, 

And  Thou  scatterest  them  again  upon  the  dry  and  thirsty  ground  ; 

Thou  cuttest  the  heavens  into  pieces  with  Thy  lightnings, 

And  makest  ways  of  light  for  the  rains  to  flow. 

Thou  changest  the  blue  sky  into  darkness, 

And  coverest  the  heavens  with  black  clouds, 

Out  of  which  Thy  thunders  roll  in  sounds  of  grandeur 

Louder  than  all  the  noises  and  music  of  the  world. 

Thou  whisperest  to  the  rain-breeze,  and  all  is  still. 

Thou  touchest  the  springs  of  the  sunbeams, 
And  all  heaven,  all  earth  is  aglow,  with  mellow,  golden  light. 
And  again  and  again  Thy  beautiful  bow  of  promise 
Circles  the  cloud,  the  earth  and  the  skies. 

Thou  callest  away  the  sunbeams,  and  Thy  soft  twilight, 
Like  a  veil  of  rich  blessing,  envelopes  the  world : 


144  THE  GLOBE. 

Far  and  near,  on  the  night-air,  the  voice  of  the  cricket, 

The  tree-frog,  the  bleatings  of  lambs  and  their  mothers  responding. 

And  Thine  own  sweet  voices,  through  the  stillness, 

Come  from  far  motions  of  the  stars. 

Oh,  how  still  the  night  is  ! 
Oh,  how  sweet  the  peace  is  I 
Well  may  we  wonder, 
"While  rolls  the  thunder, 
How  strong  Thine  arm  is, 
And  how  Thou  holdest 
The  world  and  the  stars. 

W.  H.  Thobne. 


TO  LESLIE. 


Ah,  darling  babe !  infant  in  form  alone. 
Dear  Utile  sailor  from  dim  seas  unknown, 
Where  wert  thou  in  a  million  ages  past — 
Beautiful  pilgrim  of  the  starry  vast  ? 
In  thy  luminous  eyes  I  clearly  see 
Mystical  shadows  of  eternity. 
And  though  bewildered  in  the  dream  of  time, 
Thou  shall  awake  to  memories  sublime — 
Gazing  in  rapture  on  that  shining  goal, 
Whence  come  the  far  sweet  visions  of  the  soul. 
San  Josi,  Ccd.  Edwakd  E.  Cothran. 


Submit  to  the  decrees  of  fate. 
Be  neither  downcast  nor  elate, 
On  the  vast  sea  thou  art  a  wave — 
One  Power,  thy  cradle  and  thy  grave. 
San  Jose,  Cai.  Edward  E.  Cothran. 


A  GOD  OF  JUDGMENT. 

The  whirring  loom,  the  engine's  breath, 

The  toiler's  patient  sigh. 
Have  found  surcease  ;  swift  peace,  like  death. 

Falls  from  the  sky  ; 
And,  piercing  through  the  purple  sunset, 

Bings  the  poor  man's  cry : 


AN  IDEAL  SCHOOL.  145 

"  0  Lord  of  Hosts,  how  long !  how  long 

Wilt  Thy  great  wrath  delay  ? 
This  heaped-up  gold,  the  greed  and  wrong 

Thou  seest,  to-day : 
Make  answer,  God,  most  merciful, 

For  Thy  poor,  who  pray  I " 

Therefore,  the  living  Church,  whose  song 

Can  not  ascend  to  die, 
Finds  echo  none ;  the  seraph  throng  • 

Shiver,  on  high. 
As,  clanging  through  their  dwelling-place. 

Sweeps  the  poor  man's  cry ! 

O  saddened  hearts,  the  Father  hears  ! 

He  holds  the  scales  to-day. 
Be  calm !  He  weighs  the  heaped-up  years : 

Trust,  though  He  slay  ! — 
Ruler  of  the  dawn  and  sunset. 

Yea,  Thou  wilt  repay  ! 
Gardiner,  Maine.  Caboline  D.  Swan. 


AN  IDEAL  SCHOOL. 


St.  Clara's  Academy,  situated  on  the  southern  slope  of  Sinsin- 
awa  Mound,  in  the  extreme  southwestern  corner  of  Wisconsin,  is 
as  well  known  in  the  great  Mississippi  Valley  as  the  Girl's  Normal 
School  is  well  known  in  Philadelphia,  the  Cooper  Union  in  New 
York,  or  the  Old  South  Church  to  the  pious  people  of  Boston. 
And  in  hundreds  of  those  delightful  coteries  of  refined  and  well- 
educated  women  to  be  found  throughout  our  Western  States — wo- 
men possessing  all  the  charm  of  manner  characteristic  of  the  ladies 
of  the  old  days,  together  with  a  warmth  of  sunshine  and  sincerity 
in  their  faces,  unknown  to  the  ladies  of  the  old  days,  there  are 
many  graduates  of  St.  Clara's  who  will  tell  you  with  unfeigned 
enthusiasm  that  the  Academy  well  deserves  its  enviable  fame. 

Sinsinawa  Mound,  which  was  famous  as  one  of  the  highest 
points  of  land  in  the  State,  long  before  St.  Clara's  Academy  was 
founded,  is  a  singularly  beautiful  geological  formation,  some  four 
miles  due  west  of  the  Mississippi  River ;  by  road  about  six  miles 
from  Dubuque,  Iowa,  and  about  600  feet  above  the  waters  of  the 
Mississippi.    On  its  summit,  in  these  days,  is  a  great  wooden 


146  THE  GLOBE. 

cross,  built  of  solid  timber,  about  ten  by  ten  inches  square,  and 
resting  on  solid  masonry.  In  the  upper  arms  of  this  cross,  the 
famous  woodpeckers,  with  a  fine  taste,  have  built  their  nests.  On 
the  summit  there  is  also  a  large,  covered  reservoir,  into  which,  by 
the  latest  appliances  of  machinery,  water  is  pumped  from  a  well 
500  feet  deep,  and  thence  supplied  through  pipes  to  all  the  build- 
ings of  the  Academy.  The  Mound  proper,  which  is  about  half  a 
mile  wide  and  long,  is  an  ancient  upheaval  of  limestone  rock, 
and  there  is  an  old  tradition  that  the  bases  of  it  rest  on  the  shores 
of  a  hidden  lake.  Indeed,  old  settlers  point  out  a  neglected  water- 
way, which,  it  is  said,  used  to  lead  into  the  enchanted  waters  that 
are  supposed  to  underlie  this  famous  Mound. 

I  am  somewhat  given  to  careful  examinations  of  natural  objects, 
and  I  can  assure  Protestants  that  there  is  no  secret  way  to  this 
covered  sea,  and  that  heretics,  minors  or  adults,  are  not  waylaid 
at  dead  of  night  by  the  Sisters  or  their  farm-hands,  and  forced 
headlong  into  these  dark  waters,  either  for  Catholic  baptism  or  to 
death.  Indeed,  the  whole  place,  its  conduct  and  surroundings, 
are  all  so  much  nearer  to  my  ideal  of  heaven  than  any  other 
place  I  have  found  on  this  earth,  that  I  would,  were  I  able,  send 
my  own  children  there,  for  the  highest  possible  education,  and  I 
could  sincerely  commend  the  place  as  in  all  respects  fit  for  the 
training  even  of  angels,  if  there  were  such  need.  But  I  must  not 
forestall  my  story. 

From  the  sides  of  the  Mound,  stone  is  quarried  for  the  build- 
ings of  the  Academy,  and  from  the  lower  lands — all  a  part  of  the 
Convent  grounds — clay  is  procured,  and  bricks  are  made  for  any 
new  buildings  that  are  needed.  The  Mound  has  been  famous  for 
its  fine  oak  groves  for  nearly  a  hundred  years ;  and  though  about 
thirty  years  ago  the  largest  of  the  trees  were  cut  down,  its  sides 
and  summit  are  still  covered  with  a  splendid  growth  of  black  oak, 
white  oak,  and  pin  oak,  with  ash  and  walnut,  and  with  a  fine  un- 
dergrowth of  hazel.  Over  the  summit  and  over  the  sides  of  the 
Mound  flocks  of  sheep  and  quite  a  little  herd  of  cattle,  horses, 
colts  and  hogs,  all  belonging  to  the  Convent,  and  all  under  the 
management  of  a  competent  farmer,  roam  and  feed. 

The  Mound  is  also  quite  a  strolling  ground  for  the  nuns  and  the 
scholars  in  attendance  at  the  Academy.  And  to  me,  also,  during 
the  months  of  May,  June  and  July,  of  this  year,  it  was  often  a 
beautiful  strolling  ground ;  a  place  of  rest,  a  health-giving,  soul- 


AX  IDEAL  SCHOOL.  147 

inspiring,  wonderful  Mountain  of  God,  from  the  summit  of  which 
were  granted  to  me  visions  of  the  beautiful  pathways  of  eternal 
splendor  that  open  into  the  star  spaces,  the  far  lands,  the  dim 
celestial  heights  of  peace  and  gladness,  beyond  the  utmost  flight  of 
our  work-a-day  dreams. 

In  common  language,  you  can  see  into  the  three  States  of  Wis- 
consin, Illinois,  and  Iowa,  from  Sinsinawa  Mound,  and  you  can 
see  from  twenty  to  forty  miles  over  a  beautiful  country,  northward, 
eastward,  and  southward,  where  the  great  "  Father  of  Waters " 
cuts  its  way  through  the  hills  as  the  lightnings  cut  the  clouds,  and 
passes  in  its  might  on  to  Burlington,  Keokuk,  Quincy,  St.  Louis, 
New  Orleans,  and  the  shining  sea.  It  is  a  beautiful  and  famous 
hill,  set  there  in  the  strong  and  growing  boundaries  of  one  of  the 
most  favored  States  of  the  Union ;  and  on  its  southern  slope,  as  I 
said,  is  St.  Clara's  Academy,  chief  home  and  central  house  in  this 
country  of  the  Nuns  or  Sisters  of  the  Third  Order  of  St.  Dominic ; 
a  teaching  sisterhood  of  the  Catholic  Church ;  a  gifted,  cultured, 
consecrated,  and  every  way  superior,  chaste,  industrious  and  ac- 
complished body  of  women  and  ladies,  whose  lives,  and  the  work 
of  whose  lives,  are  among  the  richest  blessings  Heaven  is  bestow- 
ing on  this  continent  in  these  perplexing  times. 

From  a  sort  of  Memorial  book,  styled  "  Centennial  Records  of  the 
Women  of  Wisconsin,^^  1  gather  the  following  historic  data:  St. 
Clara's  Academy  was  founded  at  Benton,  twelve  miles  northeast 
of  Sinsinawa,  in  1846,  by  Rev.  Samuel  Mazzuchelli,  a  native  of 
Milan,  Italy,  where  he  was  born  in  1806,  the  only  son  of  an  old 
and  wealthy  family  of  bankers  of  that  place — one  of  the  many 
thousands  of  heroic  pioneers  from  the  old  world,  who  have  made 
this  new  world  of  ours  beautiful  and  glorious,  by  the  noble  lives 
they  have  given  to  its  crude  but  advancing  civilization. 

Fatlier  Samuel,  for  such  was  the  plain  honor  to  which  the  old  set- 
tlers of  the  Northwest — already  hinting  at  our  gift  of  abbreviating 
things — had  reduced  the  name  of  the  young  Italian  priest,  was 
clearly  a  noble  soul,  upon  whose  history  I  could  dwell  long  and 
fondly  were  that  desirable.  He  gladly  left  the  warm  home  lights 
of  Milan  to  penetrate  the  dark  wilds  of  American  savagery ;  wanted 
to  civilize  and  Christianize  the  Indians,  much  in  the  early  spirit 
of  Columbus,  Isabella  and  the  Quakers,  never  dreaming  that  the 
only  possible  good  Indian  was  a  dead  Indian,  or  that  the  only 
way  to  save  him  was  to  give  him  whisky  and  kill  him.    Never- 


148  THE  GLOBE. 

theless.  after  working  on  the  Indian  for  some  years,  I  am  told, 
Father  Samuel  concluded  that  the  white  settlers  of  the  Northwest 
were  more  hopeful  subjects,  though  even  to  this  day  it  often  seems 
a  choice  of  Hercules.  At  all  events,  the  young  priest,  with  a  zeal 
worthy  of  his  Master  and  his  Church,  gave  his  beautiful  life  to  the 
Northwest,  in  its  crudest  days ;  founded  missions,  built  churches, 
started  schools,  spent  his  own  patrimony  free  as  water — what  else 
dare  a  Christian  do  ? — collected  other  means  as  by  magic  of  his 
own  persuasive  benevolence,  and  died,  doubtless  much  misunder- 
stood on  this  earth,  but  perfectly  understood  and  duly  welcomed 
by  the  angels  of  Heaven. 

In  plain  language,  and  here  we  must  watch  our  dates  a  little  and 
get  well  over  from  Benton  to  Sinsinawa — in  truth,  from  Sinsinawa 
to  Benton,  first  of  all.  For  the  oldest  of  the  present  group  of 
St.  Clara's  buildings,  the  limestone  old  college,  appears  to  have  been 
built  in  1845,  by  Father  Samuel,  of  course,  and  as  a  Dominican 
school  and  college  for  boys  and  young  men.  Father  Samuel  having 
purchased  the  Mound  estate  from  one  General  Jones,  a  near  friend, 
still  living  in  Dubuque,  Iowa.  Then  in  1846,  the  next  year, 
St.  Clara's  was  founded  at  Benton,  incorporated  in  1852,  and  placed 
by  Father  Samuel  under  the  charge  of  the  Dominican  Sisters ;  and 
the  Dominican  sisterhood  finding  itself  more  in  demand  in  the 
early  Northwest  than  the  Dominican  brotherhood,  "  for  men  must 
work  while  women  must  weep  "  and  teach ;  and  above  all,  the 
Dominican  sisterhood  finding  in  those  early  days  a  woman  with 
an  equal  and  very  superior  genius  for  piety,  teaching,  organizing 
and  financiering,  gradually  became  the  more  numerous,  if  not  the 
more  useful,  organization. 

It  would  be  unjust  and  uncatholic  to  make  any  actual  distinc- 
tion as  to  comparative  usefulness  of  these  two  branches  of  one  and 
practically  the  same  special  group  of  workers.  And  when  one 
traces  the  lives  and  life-work  of  the  Dominican  Fathers  of  the 
Northwest,  from  Father  Samuel,  of  the  early  days,  to  Father  Walker, 
present  Chaplain  of  St.  Clara's,  to  Father  Daly,  Father  Splinter, 
Father  Lilly,  now  of  Washington,  D.  C,  and  many  others  who 
were  educated  at  Sinsinawa  in  the  old  days,  and  later  at 
St.  Joseph's,  in  Ohio,  and  recalls  what  they  have  done  under  God,  to 
convert  sinners,  and  build  up  the  present  great  churches  and 
Catholic  centers  of  the  Northwest ;  and  how  some  of  the  bravest  of 
them  laid  down  their  lives  in  nursing  the  sick,  during  the  great 


AN  IDEAL  SCHOOL.  149 

epidemics  at  Memphis  and  elsewhere ;  and  with  what  zeal  and  learn- 
ing they  are  to-day  upholding  the  glory  of  the  ancient  Order,  out 
of  which  the  famous  but  unfortunate  Bruno  fell,  one  would  be  slow 
to  make  any  comparison  unfavorable  to  the  Order  in  America,  even 
in  one's  extreme  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  work  the  noble 
women  of  the  sisterhood  have  done.  And  certainly  such  is  not 
the  purpose  of  this  article ;  but  I  am  writing  of  St  Clara's,  and  not 
of  St.  Joseph's  and  the  men.  History  records  that  the  Dominican 
Fathers  fell  behindhand  with  their  finances  at  the  old  Sinsinawa 
Academy,  sold  the  place  to  a  company  of  Dubuque  merchants, 
and  that  the  Master-General  of  the  Order  in  Rome,  desiring  to  con- 
centrate the  abilities  of  the  American  Dominican  Priests  on  preach- 
ing, and  having  for  a  time  suspended  the  college  or  teaching  labors, 
the  Sisters  of  Benton,  seeing  the  advantages  of  the  choice  situation 
of  Sinsinawa  Mound,  purchased  the  estate  at  a  cost  of  ^10,000,  in 
1867,  and  henceforth  our  article  concerns  itself  with  St.  Clara's  and 
the  Dominican  sisterhood. 

St.  Clara's  prospered  at  Benton,  has  steadily  prospered  at  Sin- 
sinawa Mound,  and  from  present  appearances  intends  to  go  on 
prospering  and  blessing  the  world  while  the  world  stands  or  rolls, 
and  no  matter  which  theory  on  this  so-called  scientists  swear  by. 
In  moving  to  Sinsinawa  the  Sisters  did  not  leave  Benton.  They 
simply  divided  forces ;  held  Benton  for  their  Novitiate,  later  made 
it  a  Mission,  and  chose  Sinsinawa  as  the  main  and  central  home  for 
themselves — the  home,of  St.  Clara's  and  the  seed-ground  from  which 
their  beautiful  lives  should  radiate,  and  to  which  they  might 
return  for  home  labor  or  for  rest,  and  for  final  rest. 

The  year  1865  was  a  great  year  for  St.  Clara's,  as  for  many  other 
American  interests.  The  war  ended,  opening  the  heart  of  the 
nation  to  the  victories  of  peace ;  Lincoln  was  assassinated  in  a 
theater,  on  the  evening  of  Good  Friday  of  that  year,  and  a  new  and 
short-lived  kind  of  hero-worship  was  so  opened  to  our  people.  To 
me  also  the  year  1865  brings  memories  of  unutterable  tenderness, 
sadness  and  joyous  victory. 

Father  Samuel,  in  many  ways  the  original  and  characteristic 
genius  of  the  Dominican  spirit  and  piety  in  America,  died  that 
year,  fell  asleep  and  ascended  on  high ;  and  in  1867,  Sister  Mary 
Emily  Power,  imbued  with  the  spirit  and  genius  and  power  and 
gifts  and  heroism  of  Father  Samuel  and  the  Master  of  all  spiritual 
gifts,  was  chosen  Mother-General  of  this  Dominican  sisterhood. 
11 


150  THE  GLOBE. 

For  the  sake  of  my  sisters  and  friends  in  the  Protestant  Church — 
many  of  them  brave  and  gifted  women — I  would  that  I  felt  free  to 
speak  of  this  good  woman  with  half  the  praise  her  noble,  beauti- 
ful, accomplished  and  successful  life  deserves.  In  the  first  place, 
Mother  Emily  is  a  truly  religious  soul,  of  rare  natural  gifts,  of 
simple  but  accomplished  manners,  thoroughly  educated,  practical, 
cool,  deliberate  and  purposeful,  yet  capable  of  the  quickest  and 
strongest  emotions  and  enthusiasms ;  a  thorough  financier,  far- 
reaching  in  all  her  plans,  but  no  dreamer;  of  clear  sight,  of  a 
most  tender,  loving  and  motherly  heart  and  disposition  toward 
all  the  Sisters  of  her  Order,  toward  all  the  children  of  St.  Clara's, 
and  of  pure  charity  for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  human  beings ; 
above  all,  a  sensible  woman,  and  every  way  famihar  with  the 
questions  and  signs  of  the  times ;  quick  to  see,  appreciate  and 
reward  gifts  in  others ;  and  it  is  not  remarkable  that  the  Sisters  of 
the  Order  and  the  children  of  the  school  have  learned  to  love  her 
better  than  themselves  or  their  own.  I  do  not  know  that  she  will 
pardon  me  for  saying  these  things  of  her,  for  with  all  her  gifts 
and  accomplishments,  that  rarest  of  all  gifts  among  the  able 
women  of  our  day — a  childlike  modesty — crowns  them  all.  Small 
of  stature  and  of  delicate  frame,  Mother  Emily  reminds  me  more 
of  Lucretia  Mott — the  once  famous  Pennsylvania  Quakeress — than 
of  any  other  woman  I  have  ever  seen. 

Facts  speak  for  themselves.  In  1865  the  Dominican  Sisters  in 
this  country  numbered  thirty-one.  To-day  they  number  about 
four  hundred,  and  have  twenty-seven  branch-houses  in  Wisconsin, 
Minnesota,  Illinois,  Nebraska,  and  Washington,  D.  C. 

In  1876  the  number  of  scholars  taught  in  their  different  depart- 
ments of  work  was  estimated  at  about  five  thousand,  fully  half  of 
whom  were  boys.  To-day  the  number  of  scholars  taught  each 
year  by  the  Dominican  Sisters,  in  the  various  parochial  and  public 
schools  of  these  centers,  is  about  ten  thousand. 

Teaching  is  the  special  vocation  of  these  Sisters,  though  the  rules 
of  the  Order  allow  them  to  act  as  Sisters  of  Charity,  or  nurses,  in 
time  of  need.  Of  the  entire  sisterhood  there  are  usually  from 
seventy -five  to  a  hundred  at  Sinsinawa,  and  some  are  going  and 
returning  from  their  various  missions  at  all  seasons  of  the  year. 
Of  course,  those  remaining  at  home  are  not  all  teachers,  nor  all 
engaged  in  teaching.  Many  are  postulants  and  novices,  and  are 
themselves  scholars,  not  only  in  a  relig  ious  sense,  but  scholars  in 


AN  IDEAL  SCHOOL.  151 

the  various  branches  of  the  higher  education  taught  at  St.  Clara's ; 
others  are  cooks  and  helpers  in  the  various  departments  of  labor 
incident  to  so  large  an  institution.  Obedience  to  the  Superior  is 
their  absolute  law,  but  the  aim  of  the  entire  organization,  as  indeed 
it  has  long  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  aim  of  the  entire  Catholic 
Church,  is  to  get  the  best  possible  work  for  God  and  His  truth  out 
of  each  individual  soul. 

The  present  Mother  Superior  and  many  of  the  teachers  of  St. 
Clara's  are  ladies  of  the  finest  personal  culture,  and  the  largest  and 
broadest  educational  attainments,  and  all  of  them  breathe  in  their 
manners  and  words  such  a  spirit  of  Christian  resignation,  joy  and 
refinement  as  are  seldom  seen. 

The  two  strong  points  of  the  Academy  are:  First,  its  thoroughness 
in  all  the  branches  of  a  common  English  and  classical  education, 
including  science,  so-called,  together  with  a  perfect  thoroughness 
in  the  modern  languages,  in  music,  art  and  fine  needlework ;  Second, 
and  to  me  the  most  important  of  all,  its  chaste  and  beautiful,  its 
solemn  and  devout  religious  exercises.  Protestants  are  not  obliged 
to  attend  these,  but  they  are  usually  won  by  them,  and  eternally 
blessed  by  them. 

It  is  understood  that  St.  Clara's  is  now,  and  always  has  been,  an 
academy  for  girls  and  young  ladies;  the  boys  referred  to  as  under 
the  care  of  the  Dominican  Sisters,  being  in  the  various  public  and 
parochial  schools,  where  these  Sisters  are  at  times  engaged.  The 
number  of  pupils  at  St.  Clara's  averages  about  one  hundred ;  one- 
fourth  of  these  are  usually  Protestants. 

The  regular  course  of  study  covers  four  years,  but  many  scholars 
are  entered  young  and  remain  five  and  six  years — the  longer  the 
better — others,  having  neither  the  time  nor  the  means  to  spare  for 
the  regular  course  in  order  to  graduate,  take  special  courses,  in 
special  departments,  and  of  course  remain  as  long  or  as  short  a 
time  as  their  parents  or  guardians  elect. 

The  atmosphere,  the  temptations,  the  encouragements  of  St. 
Clara's  are  all  toward  virtue,  piety,  a  thorough  education,  health, 
and  a  genuine  enjoyment  of  nature  and  the  arts,  of  music,  paint- 
ing and  embroidery.  I  could  write  an  interesting  article  on  any 
of  these  branches  as  taught  at  St.  Clara's,  showing  the  grade  of 
excellence  attained  there,  as  compared  with  other  institutions 
throughout  the  country,  and  the  grade  of  ability  demanded  to 
teach  these  branches  as  they  are  taught  at  St.  Clara's. 


152  THE  GLOBE. 

In  its  general  course  of  study  it  is  simply  on  a  par  with  the  best 
public  and  private  academies  throughout  New  England  and  the 
country  at  large.  In  the  fact  that  it  is  under  the  entire  direction 
of  a  body  of  noble  women,  whose  lives  are  given  to  the  culti- 
vation of  knowledge  and  virtue,  whose  vocation  is  itself  chastity 
and  obedience  to  the  highest  types  of  divine  humanity,  hence 
making  the  teaching  of  morals,  religion  and  manners  a  supreme 
necessity,  St.  Clara's  seems  to  me  the  one  ideal  academy  I  have 
ever  visited. 

Dr.  Sears,  who  was  many  years  ago  editor  and  owner  of  the 
National  Quarterly  Review,  once  gave  Provost  Still6,  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  a  dreadful  overhauling,  because  the  Provost 
would  not  admit  him,  the  Doctor,  to  the  University  examinations. 
Of  course  Dr.  Sears  knew  that  the  University  was,  in  those  days, 
run  mainly  for  gain,  to  build  up  the  reputations  of  incompetent 
professors,  and  bolster  into  society  and  lucrative  positions  the  half- 
taught  stults  whose  names  adorned  its  catalogues. 

So  far  from  refusing  the  admission  of  experts  to  its  examinations, 
St.  Clara's  welcomes  them,  invites  them,  not  only  from  neighboring 
cities,  but  from  distant  parts  of  the  country.  , 

It  was  my  privilege,  during  the  month  of  June  of  the  present 
year,  to  attend  as  many  of  these  examinations  as  I  was  able  to  at- 
tend; and  had  I  space  I  could  write  an  interesting  article  on  each 
examination,  in  each  of  the  leading  branches  taught  at  the  Academy, 
but  that  might  not  interest  the  general  reader;  and  I  will  only  say 
that  in  the  branches  of  literature,  history  and  mathematics  the 
young  ladies,  not  only  of  the  graduating  class — each  one  of  whom 
was  an  accomplished  scholar — but  the  pupils  of  the  next  lower 
classes,  evinced  a  familiarity  with  these  studies  altogether  beyond 
what  I  had  dreamed  of  finding  among  them.  And  as  to  music, 
vocal  and  instrumental,  the  performances  of  several  of  the  young 
ladies  were  so  excellent  as  to  remove  their  work  beyond  the  grade 
of  amateur  execution.  And  in  two  or  three  instances  there  was 
such  musical  genius  as  to  insure  professional  triumph  for  the  future. 
I  could  name  these  pupils,  but  it  would  seem  indelicate  and  in- 
vidious. Above  all,  St.  Clara's  is  as  healthy  as  the  mountains  or 
the  sea. 

In  a  word,  as  to  situation,  general  management,  and  accomplished 
results — results  every  new  year  and  every  new  day  being  accom- 
plished— St.  Clara's  seems  to  me  the  most  favored  and  most  com- 


AN  IDEAL  SCHOOL.  153 

mendable  institution  of  the  kind  that  I  have  ever  known.  The 
article,  "Time's  Symphony,"  in  this  number  of  The  Globe,  was 
read  as  an  essay  by  one  of  the  graduating  class  of  the  present  year — 
a  young  lady  whose  accomplishments  in  music  should  insure  for 
her  a  brilliant  career.  In  truth  the  commencement  exercises  this 
year,  in  spite  of  fearfully  stormy  weather,  were  a  dream  of  beauti- 
ful enjoyment. 

It  has  not  seemed  to  me  worth  while  to  attempt  a  description  of 
the  buildings  of  the  Academy,  unless  there  were  illustrations  to 
accompany  the  description.  In  truth,  St.  Clara's,  like  all  genuine 
American  institutions,  is  constantly  growing,  and  the  Sisters  are 
just  now  about  erecting  an  addition  in  the  way  of  a  brick  building, 
sixty  by  one  hundred  feet,  and  four  stories  in  height.  Starting  with 
this  new  building  on  the  west,  or  the  left  on  approaching  the  Aca- 
demy from  the  front  gate,  the  next  to  the  east  on  the  right  is  about 
sixty  by  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  in  the  center  of  which,  on  the 
third  floor,  is  the  beautiful  chapel  of  the  sisterhood.  Still  east  of  this 
is  the  old  stone  structure,  first  built  by  Father  Samuel,  in  1844-45; 
next,  to  the  east,  is  a  large  frame  building,  known  as  the  Exhibi- 
tion Hall,  with  a  seating  capacity  of  over  2,000 ;  next  is  a  church, 
unused  at  present;  next  the  Priests'  or  "  Fathers'  House,"  where 
this  article  came  into  being ;  next  the  farm-house,  the  barn,  etc. 
These  buildings,  of  course,  do  not  all  join.  There  are  everywhere 
beautiful  breathing  spaces.  A  fine  vegetable  garden  is  in  the  rear 
of  the  farm-house,  and  the  grounds  in  front  of  and  around  the 
academy  are  adorned  and  shaded  by  some  splendid  evergreens, 
and  by  oak,  ash,  Cottonwood  and  maple  trees. 

Finally,  while  visiting  Sinsinawa,  I  was  constantly  and  joyously 
confirmed  in  a  belief  I  have  long  held  and  taught,  viz.,  that  neither 
Democracy  nor  Woman's  Sufirage  is  necessary  to  the  highest  con- 
ceivable development  of  woman;  that,  on  the  contrary,  women 
under  a  monarchical  form  of  government,  and  without  any  voting 
voice  in  politics,  always  have  risen,  and  always  will  continue  to  rise, 
and  with  less  friction  and  incidental  debasement,  into  the  very 
highest  positions  of  culture,  power,  usefulness,  blessing  and 
happiness. 

Everybody  knows  that  the  genius  of  the  Catholic  Church  is 
utterly  monarchical.  The  Sisterhood  of  St.  Dominic,  not  satisfied 
with  the  ordinary  vows  of  self-sacrifice  that  any  servant  of  the 
Church  would  make,  have,  for  centuries,  taken  upon  themselves 


154  THE  GLOBE. 

special  labors  and  special  sacrifices,  all,  of  course,  in  voluntary 
loyalty  to  the  Church  and  its  authority,  and  all  in  order  that,  being 
more  like  the  great  Master  of  the  Church,  they  may  so  be  able  to 
teach  better,  to  suffer  more  patiently,  to  endure  hardships,  to  serve 
God,  and  souls  in  need,  especially  in  need  of  thorough  and  yet 
pious  education, 

I  am  rather  familiar  with  the  accomplishments  of  the  best  wo- 
men in  these  days  who  have  advocated  Woman's  Suffrage,  and 
who  fancy  that  woman  never,  till  now,  had  her  proper  place  in  the 
world.  I  gladly  admit  that  many  of  them  are  bright  and  gifted, 
and  earnest  women,  who  have  done  good  and  will  do  good.  They 
are  naturally  and  supernaturally  good  and  noble,  many  of  them ; 
and  I  am  pretty  familiar  with  what  modern  women  of  this  class 
have  done  in  literature,  in  political  agitation,  in  the  temperance 
movement,  in  business  and  commercial  life ;  still  I  am  bound  to 
say,  without  prejudice  against  any  one  woman  or  class  of  women, 
and  without  preference  for  any  one  woman  or  class  of  women,  that 
I  never  have  seen  a  company  of  women  who  so  nearly  realized  my 
ideal  of  the  supreme,  the  blessed,  the  beautiful,  the  angelic  ideal 
of  womanhood  and  its  ineffable  ministry,  as  these  are  all  realized 
by  the  Sisterhood  of  the  Third  Order  of  St.  Dominic,  with  Ameri- 
can headquarters  at  Sinsinawa  Mound.  May  the  Eternal  ever  bless 
them  and  give  them  prosperity,  victory  and  peace ! 

As  an  article  of  this  kind  is  very  unusual  in  The  Globe,  it  is 
proper  to  state  that  the  article  was  written  without  any  contract, 
bargain  or  understanding  with  the  Sisters  in  control  of  St.  Clara's, 
or  with  any  person  representing  them,  and  without  any  expectation 
on  my  part  that  they  would  subscribe  or  contribute  one  dollar  to- 
ward or  for  The  Globe,  though  I  have  no  doubt  they  will  event- 
ually do  so.  In  a  word,  the  article  was  written  purely  and  solely 
out  of  my  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  the  place,  the  merits  of 
the  institution  and  the  kind  hospitality  shown  me  by  the  Sisters 
while  I  was  visiting  their  chaplain,  during  the  summer  months  of 
the  present  year. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 

August  S,  1892. 


TIME'S  SYMPHONY. 


In  every  life  come  moments  when  a  retrospective  glance  is  cast 
through  the  vista  of  years,  enveloped  with  such  exquisite  delicacy 
by  memory's  rosy-hued  veil. 

To-day — perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  our  short  existence — we 
turn  with  tender  longings  to  the  past — ^that  past  so  filled  with 
the  murmuring  music  of  happy  childhood.  Unconsciously  our 
lips  frame  the  petition,  "  0  grant  that  this  harmony  may  never 
wander  into  discord,  but  day  by  day  grow  fuller,  stronger,  sweeter, 
till  it  blends  itself  into  the  music  of  eternity !  " 

In  our  quiet  convent  home  only  the  chords  of  happiness  have 
been  struck,  with  here  and  'there  a  little  trill  of  pain.  Remote 
from  the  allurements  and  attractions  of  the  world,  surrounded 
with  the  beautiful  and  the  good,  our  hearts  have  been  moulded 
after  noble  casts,  our  thoughts  directed  into  channels  which  lead 
to  waters  crystal  clear.  Now,  when  the  treasure  is  slipping  from 
our  grasp,  we  realize  that  it  has  been  our  privilege  to  enjoy  that 
peace  of  mind  so  necessary  for  the  development  of  our  intellectual 
powers. 

As  the  symphony — the  noblest  form  in  which  music  culminates 
— shapes  itself  into  a  certain  number  of  parts, — ^the  ardent  allegro, 
the  sedate  andante  and  the  grave  minuet, — so  does  our  life  resolve 
itself  into  fixed  intervals. 

School-days  are  but  the  prelude  to  life's  mighty  symphony ; 
the  preparation  for  its  conflicts  and  its  conquests.  True  education 
does  not  teach  that  the  world  is  to  be  a  triumphal  march.  The 
sad,  sweet  minors  glide  into  every  composition,  yea,  often  form 
its  chiefest  charm.  There  are  trials  as  well  as  triumphs  for  us  to 
meet.  It  is  not  the  participation  in  pleasure  that  brings  strength 
of  character,  but  rather  the  self-denials,  the  patience  in  adversity 
and  affliction. 

Time,  the  director  of  aU  symphonies,  has  undertaken  the  guid- 
ance of  life's  musical  epic.  The  dawn  of  womanhood  is  the 
opening  movement  of  our  symphony. 

As  the  first  rosy  flush  steals  o'er  the  eastern  sky,  a  faint,  sweet 
note,  like  the  shadow  of  a  sound,  falls  on  the  ear.   Time  is  dawning ; 


166  THE  GLOBE. 

no  haste,  no  rush,  no  hurry  is  upon  the  earth.  Nature  raises  her 
lovely  head  and  looks  abroad  on  all  her  works,  smiling  as  her 
eyes  behold  her  own  bright  treasures.  But  this  glimpse  of  paradise 
is  not  for  long ;  the  world  is  waking  up, — the  world  with  its  sorrow 
and  discord.  Yet  even  as  the  discord  makes  itself  felt,  the  sweet 
tones  strengthen  amid  the  witcheries  of  morning  and  finally  pour 
themselves  forth  in  a  brilliant  song  of  triumph.  The  music  has 
taken  a  distinctive  form.  Oh !  there  is  a  sweetness  and  a  calmness 
in  this  broad  allegro  for  which  in  the  succeeding  strains  we  search 
in  vain. 

Through  the  tranquil  period  of  girlhood  a  voice,  soft  and  low, 
whispers : 

"  Live  to  some  purpose ;  make  thy  life 

A  gift  of  use  to  thee ; 
A  joy,  a  good,  a  golden  hope — 

A  heavenly  argosy." 

The  future,  bright  with  smiling  promises,  lies  before  us.  There 
pulsates  upon  our  ear  the  waves  of  that  sweet  allegro,  and  bathed 
in  the  sound  the  spirit  dreams  dreams.  All  things  good  are  pos- 
sible. Those  melodious  strains  stir  no  strife;  only  impulses  to 
rise ;  to  do  our  best  deeds  for  the  world  and  ourselves ;  to  lend  a 
helping  hand  where  help  is  needed.  The  ideals  which  are  deep- 
rooted  in  the  human  heart  are  the  keynote  upon  which  the  suc- 
ceeding parts  of  the  symphony  depend.  If  the  leading  note  be 
false,  our  life  will  be  out  of  tune,  and  our  symphony — so  far  as 
earthly  joys  afiect  us — a  discord.  We  are  startled  from  our  rev- 
erie. Time  wields  his  baton  and  lo !  the  second  part — the  andante 
of  life — is  ushered  in.  The  strong,  full  chords  now  borne  to  us  re- 
veal but  a  partially  executed  design,  and  in  their  tones  is  con- 
veyed a  warning.  Our  thoughts  must  be  of  the  present,  and  life, 
inner  life,  must  become  more  real.  The  expression  of  innate  joy 
rushes  forth  in  bursts  of  euphony ;  arpeggios  of  anguish  will  take 
their  position  in  the  scale  of  maturity,  but  again 

"  Soft  and  sweet  through  ether  swinging, 
Sound  the  harmonies  of  life." 

To  the  indifferent  auditor  many  of  the  fairy-like  strains  of  the 
lighter  instruments  of  life's  grand  orchestra  are  lost  in  the  great 
flood  of  melody ;  to  the  casual  observer  the  highest  virtues  are 
often  hid  beneath  a  mask  of  frivolities.    "Heard  melodies  are 


QEOROE  W.  CURTIS  <fc  CO.  167 

sweet,  but  those  unheard  are  sweeter."  Who  of  us  can  tell  of  the 
exquisite  phrases  which  enter  our  neighbor's  symphony?  Who 
of  us  has  heard  the  tender  grace-notes  which  are  his  only  solace  ? 
Yet  we  know  there  is  something  in  each  heart  which  defies  time 
or  sorrow,  that  something  which  is  as  balm  to  the  deepest  wounds. 
It  must  be  the  music  of  the  soul,  "  the  medicine  of  the  breaking 
heart"  As,  tone  by  tone,  we  reach  the  climax  of  our  ascending  pas- 
sage, whence  all  tends  toward  the  finale,  so,  step  by  step,  does  life's 
movement  go  on  till  the  topmost  height  is  won ;  then  the  shadows 
lengthen  toward  the  grave. 

It  is  but  fitting  that  the  stately  minuet  should  crown  life's 
hymn.  Our  work  is  drawing  near  completion,  and  we  listen  and 
wait  for  the  dying  note — the  celestial  messenger,  who  hovers  o'er 
us,  ready  to  carry  the  wave  of  the  last  low  chord  to  break  upon 
the  shores  of  a  fairer  world.  Echoes  of  buried  strains  rise  round 
us ;  recollections  sweep  o'er  the  mind.  The  good  we  have  done, 
the  evil  we  have  prevented,  the  burdens  we  have  lightened,  the 
joy  we  have  lent  to  others — such  deeds  combine  to  make  the 
music  of  old  age  the  sweetest  that  can  lull  the  senses  to  reposer. 
Never  again  will  the  sharp,  staccato  notes  of  doubt  and  fear  ring 
out;  never  again  will  the  canons  of  hope  and  pleasure  be  as- 
cended; only  the  lingering  vibration  of  the  last  diminuendo  is 
left  to  yield  itself  to  the  world  of  never-ceasing  sound.  And  who 
can  tell  if  the  final  note  be  one  of  victory  or  defeat  ? 

Mary  R.  Denton. 


GEORGE  W.  CURTIS  &  CO. 


Nothing  could  well  exceed  the  fulsome  flattery  the  Republican 
press  and  the  pin-feather  literary  people  of  this  country  heaped 
upon  George  W.  Curtis  at  the  time  of  his  death.  Rev.  Father 
Hecker,  who  knew  Curtis  well  during  their  mutual  domicile  at 
Brook  Farm,  and  who  was  very  familiar  with  his  later  labors  and 
writings,  thought  him  a  "  d fraud."  The  real  truth  lies  some- 
where between  these  extreme  estimates. 

The  fact  that  Curtis  became  one  of  that  little  group  of  New 
England  men  who  had  the  impulse  to  shut  themselves  away  from 
the  world  of  mammon,  and  the  desire  at  least  to  live  a  life  more 


168  THE  GLOBE. 

devoted  to  contemplation  and  the  pursuit  of  truth  than  was  pos- 
sible in  the  world,  argues,  I  think,  an  early  vein  of  sincerity  toward 
truth  and  a  higher  life.  That  the  men  who  went  to  Brook  Farm 
were,  however,  all  of  them,  a  quasi-dreaming,  half  practical — ^in 
some  sense  light-headed,  and  a  very  incomplete  set  of  men,  indi- 
vidually and  as  a  body, — has  long  ago  been  demonstrated  beyond 
need  of  resurrection. 

Emerson  did  not  go,  Hawthorne  could  not  be  induced  to  stay, 
and  such  men  as  Parker  and  Channing,  Edward  Everett,  Theodore 
Woolsey  and  the  like — none  of  them  afflicted  with  towering 
greatness — would  have  laughed  at  the  idea.  But  Curtis  went,  and 
I  think  his  going  was  in  obedience  to  one  of  the  best  impulses  of 
his  life.  The  whole  business  was  a  "  fool's  errand."  None  of  the 
men  had  conscience  enough  to  confess  and  repent  of  their  past 
sins;  none  of  them  had  humility  enough  to  obey  any  voice  of  au- 
thority superior  to  their  own  inclinations.  In  a  word,  as  the  great 
Thad.  Stevens  said  of  the  body  of  Congressmen  who  did  not  vote 
for  Johnson's  impeachment:  "There  was  not  a  complete  man 
among  them."  Each  man  had  a  soft  spot,  a  weak  spot  in  his 
make-up,  and  in  an  emergency  of  real  human  worth  must  be 
expected  to  fail. 

I  have  always  held  that  Curtis  was  one  of  the  brightest  of  that 
early  group  of  New  England  would-be  reformers.  But  they  were 
all  reformers  who  believed  in  practicing  their  reform  on  other 
men  rather  than  on  themselves.  They  were  men,  also,  who  had 
no  conception  of  the  truly  religious,  reforming  and  higher  moral 
and  spiritual  forces  th^  extant  in  this  nation,  and  which,  from 
the  days  of  the  Mathers  until  now,  have  been  doing  a  work  for 
the  moral  and  spiritual  and  national  integrity  of  this  land  alto- 
gether superior  to  anything  Curtis  ever  knew,  and  have  carried  it 
on  far  above  the  heads  of  the  early  Puritan  and  later  Unitarian 
fraternity.  Only  the  youngest  of  colts,  asses,  calves,  lambs  and 
kittens  in  literature,  morals  and  religion  will  credit  Curtis  or  Curtis 
&  Company  with  influencing  for  good  the  higher  classes  of 
thought  and  culture  in  this  country  and  nation.  This  is  not 
meant  to  condemn  Curtis,  but  to  check  the  foam  of  his  would-be 
worshipers.  Well  studied,  the  "Potiphar  Papers"  will  prove  the 
truth  of  these  discriminations. 

Again,  I  think  that  after  he  left  Brook  Farm  his  association 
with  the  Abolitionists  proves  a  certain  vein  of  sincere  moral  con- 


GEOROE  W.  CURTIS  <fe  CO.  159 

viction  and  a  willingness  to  adhere  to  truth  and  duty,  if  he  only 
knew  where  to  find  them.  Among  the  Abolitionists,  however, 
Curtis  was  never  held  as  a  great  man  or  a  leader.  He  was  viewed 
rather  as  a  dilettante  literary  person  whom  the  leaders  were  glad 
to  use  for  what  he  was  worth ;  but  there  was  little  or  no  confi- 
dence in  his  staying  powers.  I  remember  well  the  evening  he 
was  induced  to  come  to  Philadelphia,  in  1859,  to  speak  in 
National  Hall.  Though  but  a  boy  at  the  time,  I  had  already 
met  Phillips  and  Garrison,  and  knew  Judge  Kelley,  and  was  heart 
and  soul  with  the  Abolition  movement.  I  think  Curtis  was  not 
consciously  a  "  fraud,"  but  Phillips  carried  more  conscience  and 
culture  and  mental  power  in  the  waste-paper  of  his  overcoat 
pockets  than  Curtis  ever  got  into  his  heart  and  brain.  The  man 
was  always  a  sort  of  boy  and  a  child ;  an  overfed,  over-praised, 
over-petted,  untaught,  unconverted,  goody-goody,  whiskered  child. 

Again,  I  think  that  his  opposition  to  Blaine,  later  in  life,  indi- 
cates a  certain  sincerity  of  con\-iction  toward  moral  integrity  in 
politics  and  life.  But  nothing  could  prove  more  conclusively  the 
intellectual  limitation  of  the  man,  the  real  ignorance  of  the  man 
touching  the  true  methods  of  moral  reform,  than  his  womanish, 
boy-like  dependence  upon  our  scheme  of  civil  service  reform  to 
attain  these  ends.  In  a  word,  he  had  an  innate  tendency  toward 
Christian  truth  and  virtue,  born  of  ancestral  ages  of  Christendom, 
but  he  never  had  the  humility  or  the  sense  or  the  freedom  or 
the  courage  to  seek  the  true  sources  of  grace  and  guidance  in  this 
world. 

As  a  natural  result  of  this  lack — a  lack  born  of  his  provincial 
birth  and  education — he,  afterawhile,  sold  what  powers  he  had  to 
the  Harpers,  and  did  a  very  nice  literary-politico  sort  of  hack- 
work which  won  him  the  deserved  respect  of  the  tens  of  thousands 
6f  our  people,  critics  included,  who  knew  and  who  know  less  of 
literature  and  morals  than  Curtis  himself;  a  respectable,  quasi- 
cultured,  semi-Christian,  unforceful,  weathercock  sort  of  reformer 
gone  into  so-called  popular  literature ;  all  of  which  is  so  much 
better  than  the  work  of  the  hack  newspaper  men  who  praise  him, 
that  they  really  believe  their  ignorant  estimates  of  Curtis,  and 
really  think  that  a  great  man  has  passed  away. 

God  is  good  and  merciful  to  us  all,  and  especially  merciful  to 
men  who  even  try  to  follow  the  best  light  they  have,  notwith- 
standing a  better  and  a  purer  light  is  already  burning  in  their 


160  THE  GLOBE. 

dull  and  unwilling  eyes.  Curtis  did  fairly  good  literary  hack- 
work, and  from  first  to  last  the  impulse  was  intended  to  be  good, 
but  it  was  ill-informed.  He  was  neither  a  great  man,  nor  in  any 
true  sense  a  Christian  man;  but  as  far  as  a  man  of  Christian 
ancestry  and  surroundings — himself  fallen  from  true  light  and 
guidance — could  be  a  help  to  truth  and  to  moral  reform,  Curtis 
was  such  a  help ;  and  for  all  he  did  in  this  line  he  was  very  well 
paid.  I  am  not  anxious  about  Curtis.  I  am  trying  to  make  dis- 
tinctions that  may  be  of  service  to  the  hack  and  other  literary 
men  and  women  of  the  future,  and  to  all  men  and  women  in  a 
degree.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


CATHOLICITY  AND  THE  AMERICAN  MIND. 


It  has  been  said  that  Catholics  and  Protestants  live  in  two  dif- 
ferent worlds,  and  this,  as  you  all  know,  is  in  some  senses  true. 

The  world  of  clear,  coherent  faith ;  of  serene  insight  into  the 
supernatural  and  the  divine,  and  the  world  of  mere  opinion,  of 
individual,  private  judgment  which  leads  always  to  difference  and 
indifierence,  which  professes  to  divorce  belief  from  reason  and 
ends  too  often  in  helpless,  naked  rationalism—  these  two  worlds  of 
men  certainly  cannot  be  one  and  the  same.  Yet  this  fact  does  not 
necessarily  prevent  us  who  dwell  in  humble  but  direct  communion 
with  Him  who  is  called  "Wonderful,"  "God,"  "The  Prince  of 
Peace,"  from  coming  directly  into  relation  with  those — our  neigh- 
bors, acquaintances  and  friends — who  dwell  just  over  the  border, 
in  that  dazzling  but  somewhat  befogged  region  which  may  be 
termed  the  Debatable  Land,  or  the  Land  of  Endless  Debate. 

In  fact,  we  do  meet  and  converse  with  them  every  day.  We 
trade  and  fraternize  with  them  and  love  them.  We  can  understand 
perfectly  all  that  they  think  and  feel.  But  they  cannot  understand 
us.  There's  the  pity.  And  there,  too,  is  the  problem.  How  shall 
we  lead  them  to  understand  us  and  the  simple  yet  sublime  truth 
to  which  we  are  loyal  ? 

At  this  mere  question,  as  though  by  a  word  of  magic  incantation, 
the  barriers  between  the  two  worlds  of  thought  arise  and  interpose 
themselves  like  a  solid  wall.  The  wall,  however,  is  only  one  of 
mist.    It  can  be  penetrated.    I  have  been  a  Protestant,  and  now, 


CA  THOLICITY  A ND  THE  AMERICAN  MIND.  161 

happily  for  me,  I  am  a  Catholic — that  is,  a  Christian  in  the  trae, 
uncompromising  faith  of  Christ.  Therefore  I  know  something 
about  the  two  worlds  and  a  good  deal  about  the  barriers  between 
them. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  most  practical  thing  I  can  do  is  to  give 
you  very  simply,  in  the  light  of  my  own  observation,  a  few  instances 
of  the  way  in  which  the  non-Catholics  of  New  England  regard 
Catholicity  and  its  adherents. 

In  the  first  place,  they  are  brought  up  with  an  indescribable 
dread  of  it,  which  they  imbibe  in  childhood  with  their  earliest 
associations,  and  before  they  are  even  conscious  that  it  is  being 
instilled  into  them.  This  indescribable  dread — when  you  come 
to  inquire  and  try  to  analyze  it — ^turns  out  to  be  also  indefinable. 
It  is  like  the  hobgoblin  of  the  nursery.  Every  one  of  the  scared 
nurslings  is  confident  the  hobgoblin  exists  and  would  like  to  hurt 
them  if  he  could,  but  no  one  of  them  can  explain  just  wJiat  he  is, 
or  why  he  should  wish  them  harm.  The  terror  of  these  people  has 
no  logical  beginning  that  even  the  most  patient  search  can  trace, 
and  it  always,  when  investigated,  falls  back  upon  an  absolute 
defiance  of  logic. 

For  example,  I  have  a  Congregational  friend  with  whom  for 
years  I  have  discussed  every  topic  that  came  into  our  ken  ex- 
haustively and  with  the  freest  comparison  of  views,  not  at  all  in 
the  manner  of  dispute,  but  simply  for  the  profit  of  candid  intel- 
lectual interchange.  We  had  often  spoken  of  religion,  and  many 
times  alluded  to  the  Catholic  Church.  On  this  last  subject  he 
appeared  to  have  prejudices  which  I  did  not  share,  and  I  frequently 
told  him  so,  giving  him  my  reasons,  although  I  did  not  then  dream 
that  I  should  ever  become  a  Catholic.  When,  at  last,  I  was  re- 
ceived into  the  Church,  it  was  natural  to  suppose  that  he  would 
be  the  first  and  the  most  eager  to  obtain  my  views  on  this,  as  on 
all  other  matters,  and  I  told  him  I  would  gladly  answer  any 
questions  that  might  occur  to  him.  But,  on  this  one  topic  he 
promptly  said :  "  No,  we  had  better  agree  to  disagree.  If  I  thought 
as  you  do,  I  should  be  where  you  are,  and  if  you  thought  as  I  do 
you  would  be  where  I  am."  The  utter  platitude  and  vacancy  of 
that  reply  almost  paralyzed  me.  "But,"  I  said,  "I  know  you 
have  certain  ideas  about  the  Catholic  Church  which  I  never  thought 
were  correct,  and  now  that  I  am  in  the  Church  I  can  show  you 
and  assure  you  that  they  were  entirely  wrong."    He  answered : 


162  THE  GLOBE. 

"  Oh !  those  who  are  inside  the  Church  don't  always  know  about 
it.  Several  converts  in  England  have  just  left  the  Catholic  Church." 
His  inference,  of  course,  was  that,  since  they  had  abandoned  it, 
they  were  the  ones  who  really  understood  and  knew  all  about  it. 
But,  since  they  had  been  inside,  and  since  he  held  that  those  in- 
side could  not  know  the  truth  concerning  the  Church,  how  did  it 
happen  that  these  particular  apostates  thoroughly  knew  the  Church 
and  were  to  be  trusted,  while  I,  as  a  faithful  convert,  could  not 
know  what  I  was  talking  about  ? 

If  I  had  retorted  upon  him  with  his  own  style  of  argument,  I 
would  have  said  this :  "  You  declare  that  members  of  a  religious 
organization,  for  example,  the  Catholic  Church,  do  not  really  know 
what  that  organization  is,  what  it  means  and  what  it  aims  at.  You 
are  a  member  of  a  religious  organization  called  the  Congregational 
Church:  therefore  you  do  not  necessarily  know  what  it  means. 
You  assume  that  those  who  secede  from  the  Catholic  Church  are 
the  only  Catholics  who  understand  that  Church.  Therefore  you, 
who  are  now  a  Congregationalist,  do  not  understand  your  own 
Church,  but  if  you  seceded  from  it,  you  would  then  understand  it. 
Hence,  no  one  understands  any  church  unless  he  is  outside  of  it." 

He  would  have  been  convicted  by  his  own  absurdity.  Yet  it  is 
just  this  sort  of  absurdity  that  we  have  to  encounter.  To  this  same 
friend  I  remarked,  later  on,  that  he  had  conspicuously  avoided 
talking  with  me  about  my  faith.  He  replied :  "  Oh !  you  may 
speak  freely  about  it."  I  answered  :  "  Very  well.  But  it  isn't 
likely  that  I  am  going  to  sit  down  and  expound  it  all  to  you 
without  inquiry  from  you.  You  have  always  wanted  to  know 
what  I  thought  about  every  other  thing.  But  on  this  you  seem 
wholly  indiflferent."  And  then  he  said :  "  Oh,  I  never  want  to  talk 
with  a  man  after  he  has  made  up  his  mind  !" 

So,  then,  the  conclusion  would  be  that  there  is  no  use  in  an 
interchange  of  views  when  a  man  has  any  settled  and  definite 
views  to  express.  According  to  this,  the  Protestant  ideal  would 
be  a  state  of  perpetual  indecision,  a  state  that  might  be  described 
as  general  mindlessness  or  Universal  Absence  of  Mind. 

And  yet  this  friend  is  a  very  bright  man  in  all  other  ways,  a 
man  in  active  business,  who  is  also  an  author.  If  I  were  a  Buddhist 
or  a  Mahometan,  or  a  Mormon,  he  would  be  intensely  desirous 
to  hear  what  I  might  say  in  explanation  of  my  tenets.  As  I  am 
only  a  Catholic  Christian,  he  throws  reason  and  logic  to  the  winds 


CATHOLICITY  AND  THE  AMERICAN  MIND.  163 

in  his  anxiety  to  escape  the  possibility  of  talking  with  me  about 
my  faith,  although  he  is  still  perfectly  ready  to  converse  on  any 
other  subject  under  heaven  without  let  or  hindrance. 

In  this  case,  though,  as  in  many  others,  I  recognize  a  tacit  ad- 
mission of  the  intense,  overwhelming  power  of  Christ's  teaching 
as  embodied  and  presented  by  His  holy  Catholic  Church  to-day. 
The  general  Protestant  fear  of  the  Church  is  inherited  and  tra- 
ditional, based  on  long-continued  misrepresentation  and  prejudice. 
But  in  the  individual  Protestant  or  non-Catholic  that  fear  is  espe- 
cially the  dread  of  a  vast  idea,  an  infinite  truth,  which,  if  they 
permit  themselves  to  look  into  it,  may  engulf  them  in  its  immen- 
sity. They  recoil  at  the  mere  chance  of  surrendering  their  small 
individuality  to  this  immensity  of  the  eternal. 

It  seems  to  be  as  hard  for  them  to  acknowledge,  sincerely  and 
thoroughly  in  their  hearts,  their  exact  relation  to  it,  as  it  would 
be  for  them  to  jump  off  from  the  edge  of  the  earth.  There  is  a 
mental  attraction  of  gravitation  which  holds  them  down.  Yet,  in 
recognizing  the  vast  truths  of  astronomy,  they  surrender  themselves 
willingly  to  the  infinite  of  space.  They  admit  that  the  whole 
solar  system  is  visibly  progressing  through  space  toward  some 
goal  that  no  one  is  able  to  sight  by  the  human  eye,  or  by  the  tele- 
scope, or  by  private  judgment.  All  this,  they  concede,  is  going  on 
according  to  one  great  principle,  one  fixed  order  of  logic  and  law. 
Yet  when  it  comes  to  consideration  of  the  moral  and  spiritual 
infinite,  which  also  moves  toward  a  great  unseen  goal,  they  cannot 
bring  themselves  to  admit  the  same  fixity  of  law  and  supremacy 
in  one  all-embracing  truth  of  religion.  In  this  department — or 
rather,  in  this  aspect — of  the  universe,  they  would  persuade  them- 
selves, the  truth — i.  e.,  the  principle  of  things — need  no  longer 
be  single  and  unvarying,  but  may  be  several  and  changeable,  ac- 
cording as  it  is  interpreted  by  different  men  and  groups.  It  is 
this  inconsistency  of  theirs  that  we  must  first  gently  make  plain 
to  them,  before  they  can  comprehend  us  or  grasp  Catholic  verity. 
Meanwhile  it  will  continue  one  of  the  most  perplexing  among 
barriers,  because  by  its  very  nature  it  obliges  them  to  shift 
ground  constantly,  and  try  to  escape  from  logic  by  a  variety  of 
excuses  or  side-issues.  Nevertheless,  the  non-Catholic  dread  is,  at 
bottom,  an  admission  that  Holy  Church  is  the  earthly  representa- 
tion or  portal  of  the  Divine  infinite. 

It  has  also  happened  to  Mrs.  Lathrop  and  myself  that  Protest- 


164  THE  GLOBE. 

ant  friends,  and  even  simple  acquaintances,  who  never  broached 
the  subject  before,  have  written  to  us — since  we  became  Catholics 
— asking  us  to  pray  for  their  dead,  their  departed  kindred.  Of 
course  they  would  not  dream  of  petitioning  for  such  prayers  in 
their  own  churches  and  denominations.  Others  have  sent  to  ask 
our  prayers  for  some  member  of  a  family  undergoing  illness  or 
surgical  operations  involving  great  danger.  In  all  the  years 
that  we  were  outside  of  the  Church  they  never  made  such  a  re- 
quest, although  they  were  as  sure  of  our  friendship  then  as  they 
are  now. 

This  is  another  and  touching  evidence  of  the  fact  that  Protest- 
ants feel,  if  they  do  not  perceive,  some  peculiar  virtue  in  the 
Catholic  Church.  They  turn  to  it  instinctively,  in  these  cases,  as 
meeting  the  needs  of  the  heart  and  soul  with  a  supreme  efficacy 
not  found  in  their  own  organizations;  a  power  that  they  may 
oppose,  yet  inwardly  realize. 

A  Presbyterian  teacher  of  high  standing,  intellectual,  accom- 
plished, and  of  considerable  renown,  said  to  me  heartily  that,  in 
becoming  a  Catholic,  I  had  taken  the  noblest  and  truest  attitude 
a  man  could  take,  and  that  he  wished  he  could  do  the  same.  A 
friend  who  has  suffered  much  told  me  that  he  often  went  into  the 
CathoHc  Church — as  it  was  open  every  day  in  the  week — and 
simply  sat  there  meditating.  He  knew  nothing  of  Catholic 
prayers  and  could  not  pray ;  but  he  always  came  out  feeling 
purer,  better,  and  stronger.  A  lady  of  Puritan  descent  wrote  to  us 
that  the  Catholic  Church  was  the  only  one  she  could  ever  join ; 
yet  that,  if  she  ever  found  herself  inclining  that  way,  she  would 
instantly  buy  and  read  all  the  books  against  the  Catholic  Church 
that  she  could  obtain.  This  was  another  form  of  tribute  to  the 
strength  of  Catholicity.  So,  too,  was  that  of  a  most  distinguished 
scientific  man,  who  said  to  me  that  for  a  year  in  his  youth  he 
had  gone  to  early  Mass  every  day,  without  ever  inquiring  or 
learning  anything  about  the  service  and  sacrifice,  but  simply 
because  it  made  him  feel  "good."  He  now — still  omitting  to 
inquire — scoffs  mildly  at  the  Church ;  but,  with  a  large  experience 
of  Protestant  denominations  and  pastors,  he  says :  "  I  have 
known  lots  of  Catholic  priests,  and  they  are  the  best  men  I  ever 
knew." 

If  we  look  for  negative  or  passive  tributes,  what  better  could  we 
ask  than  these  ? 


CATHOLICITY  AND  THE  AMERICAN  MIND.  165 

They  show  that  the  non-Catholic  Yankee  mind,  and  in  fact  the 
American  mind,  is  in  search  of  a  religious  truth  which  it  has  not 
yet  found.  It  gropes ;  it  dimly  guesses  at  a  revelation  from  God, 
present  in  the  world  to-day,  which  it  has  not  been  able  to  lay 
hold  of  in  evangelical  bodies.  The  American  mind,  all  through 
the  United  States,  contains  a  foundation  element  of  strong  and 
earnest  religious  feeling.  Religious  reading  and  aspiration  occupy 
much  of  its  attention.  This  may  be  seen  from  the  character  of 
some  of  our  most  widely  popular  novels  and  other  works  of 
current  literature ;  also  from  the  prevalence  of  meetings  and 
movements  based  on  natural  religion,  or  upon  a  partial,  frag- 
mentary perception  of  perfect  and  supernatural  religion.  Great 
numbers  of  people — the  most  American  of  Americans — from  the 
very  beginning  of  our  national  history  down  to  the  present  day, 
have  perceived  and  loyally  accepted  the  Divine  truth  of  a  super- 
natural and  universal  religion,  as  set  forth  by  the  one  true  and 
Catholic  Church.  The  non-Catholic  American  mind  in  general  is 
really  ripe  for  this  Divine  truth ;  yet  it  is  clouded  still  by  mists  of 
prejudice,  indifiference  and  careless  custom. 

Now,  the  parish  priest  cannot  possibly,  with  his  multifarious 
duties,  go  forth  and  attend  to  the  needs  of  non-Catholics.  Of 
course  the  church- building  is  open  to  them  as  to  all.  They  may 
come  there  and  try  to  learn  and  try  to  worship.  But,  while  the 
temple  is  crowded  with  the  faithful,  the  others  come  rarely  or  by 
accident,  and  do  not  even  understand  the  simple,  holy  rite  when 
they  do  come. 

I  would  suggest  that  in  every  parish  there  should  be  a  small, 
efficient  organization  of  laymen,  who  could  take  charge  of  the 
business  of  explaining  Catholicity  whenever  it  is  publicly  misin- 
terpreted. A  local  Truth  Society  would  fill  the  bill ;  and'  in  our 
parish  we  have  begun  to  talk  of  forming  one,  or  a  Columbian 
Reading  Circle,  or  both.  Now,  the  main  practical  difficulties  of 
non-Catholics,  even  when  they  are  convinced  of  our  consistency 
and  that  our  logic  is  impregnable,  seem  to  be  these  two  bug- 
bears :  That  the  Church  wishes  to  overthrow  or  unfairly  capture 
the  public  schools,  and  that  it  seeks  to  subvert  American  insti- 
tutions. 

Millions  of  Catholics  contribute  to  the  support  of  the  public 
schools  under  an  un-American  system  of  taxation  almost  without 
representation,  since  they  are  so  little  represented  on  the  school 
12 


166  THE  OLOBE. 

boards,  and  still  show  their  sincerity  by  voluntarily  maintaining 
schools  of  their  own,  besides.  Catholics  were  the  first  settlers  in 
this  country — the  bringers  of  civilization.  They  were  loyal  to  the 
American  Revolution  when  many,  and  perhaps  most,  Episco- 
palians and  Methodists  were  on  the  Tory  side.  Many  scores  of 
thousands  of  Catholics  have  laid  down  their  lives  in  war  for  the 
upholding  of  American  institutions  and  liberty.  Catholics  are 
absolutely  loyal  to  the  constitution,  laws,  government,  and  spirit 
of  this  Republic  to-day,  and  they  prove  it  in  every  way  that  it  is 
possible  to  offer  proof,  by  act  and  conduct.  Yet  all  this  seems  to 
<count  for  nothing  when  the  prejudices  above  mentioned  come 
into  play.  If  so  brilliant  a  man  as  Gladstone,  in  England,  could 
.«o  misapprehend  the  Vatican  decrees  as  to  imagine  they  might 
fiap  the  loyalty  of  Englishmen,  what  are  we  to  expect  from  the 
ignorant  here  ?  It  will  not  do  to  dismiss  them  by  saying  that 
they  are  too  dense  to  be  enlightened.  We  must  find  a  way  to 
reach  them,  and  to  make  them  see  and  know  us  as  we  actually 
iire.  Am  I,  whose  ardent  and  steady  patriotism  no  one  doubted 
before,  whose  family  of  Puritan  origin  has  produced  a  line  of 
evangelical  ministers  and  has  been  solidly  American  for  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty-eight  years — am  I  at  once  transformed  into  a  dis- 
loyal citizen  when  I  become  a  Catholic  ?  An  eminent  man  said 
to  me :  "  You  have  turned  your  back  on  your  own  countrymen." 
I  replied :  "  No,  sir.  I  am  now  the  best  kind  of  American  there 
is."  And  with  entire  modesty — for  the  merit  is  not  mine — I  be- 
lieve this  to  be  true. 

For  what  can  make  a  man  so  good  a  citizen  as  the  religion 
which  teaches  him  the  oneness  of  truth,  fidelity  to  God,  to  his 
country,  to  marriage,  to  conscience,  and  applies  itself  directly 
every  day  to  strengthening  those  forces  which  conserve  or  purify 
society  and  exalt  the  soul  ? 

It  is  this  that  we  must  bring  home  to  their  minds. 

And,  while  the  circulation  of  books  and  documents  is  of  immense 
use,  there  are  other  means  of  reaching  those  who  will  not  read 
Not  long  ago  there  came  to  New  London  one  of  those  scamps  who 
make  a  living  by  sensational  lectures  maligning  all  that  is  most 
sacred  to  Catholics.  People  who,  all  the  year  round,  would  never 
come  near  us  to  ask  for  a  plain,  candid,  intelligent  explanation 
of  Catholic  faith  and  practice,  flocked  to  hear  this  deliberate  falsi- 
fier. Such  a  lecture  delivered  against  any  other  religious  body  would 


CATHOLICITY  AND  THE  AMERICAN  MIND.  167 

have  caused  a  riot,  and  the  riot  would  have  been  generally  excused 
by  the  nature  of  the  insult  offered.  As  it  was,  we  were  all  indignant 
and  talked  of  letters  to  the  daily  papers — both  of  which  in 
New  London  are  owned  or  edited  by  Catholics — and  of  a  public 
meeting.  But  we  feared  possible  disturbance  or  futile  bitterness, 
and  so  we  remained  silent.  Now,  a  local  committee  of  the  sort 
suggested  could  have  held  that  meeting ;  with  calm,  well-considered 
speeches ;  could  have  got  the  general  public  there ;  had  the  thing 
fully  reported,  and  so,  without  hurting  any  one,  could  have  ad- 
ministered a  crushingly  gentle  rebuke  and  let  loose  a  great  deal  of 
life-giving  truth. 

Still  another  point.  Secular  and  national  holidays  belong  just 
as  much  to  us  as  they  do  to  all  other  Americans.  Why  should  not 
local  committees  of  CathoUc  laymen  call  public  meetings  to  celebrate 
the  Fourth  of  July,  Thanksgiving  Day,  and  other  fitting  occasions, 
when  their  patriotism  would  be  made  apparent  along  with  the 
high,  religious  spirit  that  animates  it  ? 

I  would  have  lay  Catholics  take  the  initiative  in  celebrating  the 
New  England  Forefathers'  Day  in  such  manner  as  to  pay  tribute 
to  the  great  merits  of  the  Massachusetts  Pilgrims,  and  at  the  same 
time  bring  out  the  immense  service  of  other  settlers  of  the  United 
States,  notably  the  Catholic  founders  of  Maryland,  who  established 
there  the  complete  sway  of  religious  toleration,  while  the  founders 
of  Massachusetts  based  their  State  on  intolerance.  All  this  could 
be  done  in  a  friendly  way,  and  would  be  very  instructive. 

It  would  have  been  a  great  thing  if  Catholic  laymen  all  over  the 
country  had  seized  the  1891  anniversary  of  Columbus's  landing  as 
a  time  for  general  celebration,  and  had  emphasized  the  fact  that 
the  discoverer  of  America  planted  the  holy  cross  here  one  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  years  before  the  Pilgrims  set  foot  on  Plymouth 
Rock, 

The  secular  daily  press  would  be  a  powerful  agency  for  the  cor- 
rection of  misstatements,  for  the  popular  newspaper  reaches  the 
eyes  of  many  who  would  never  consent  to  examine  a  Catholic  book 
or  journal.  But,  while  there  are  great  numbers  of  Catholics 
employed  on  the  daily  newspapers,  they  are  not  their  own  masters. 
Under  hostile  editors  they  do  not  enjoy  the  reputed  American 
privilege  of  free  speech.  Everything  they  write  is  carefully 
examined,  sifted  and  cut  down  where  there  is  the  slightest  chance 
that  they  may  be  saying  anything  which  will  make  the  Catholic 


168  THE  GLOBE. 

position  clear  and  place  Catholicity  in  a  fair,  impartial  light.  In 
many  newspaper  offices  it  seems  to  be  a  maxim  that  a  man  who 
believes  nothing  is  a  perfectly  safe  person  to  intrust  with  Catholic 
•matters.  It  is  also  held  to  be  a  merit  in  any  Protestant  writer  on 
the  staff  to  do  what  he  can  toward  reporting  and  presenting 
Protestantism  favorably ;  but  for  a  Catholic  to  put  his  convictions 
into  what  he  writes  for  the  daily  columns,  or  to  shed  light  upon 
the  truth  of  his  religion,  is  treated  as  something  in  the  nature  of 
a  conspiracy. 

The  chief  organized  way  in  which  you  can  use  the  secular  press 
now,  is  for  local  committees  to  prepare  short  letters  to  the  editor 
in  due  emergencies,  and  when  such  letters  are  not  accepted,  pay 
for  them  at  advertising  rates.  Many  editors  will  gladly  publish 
them  free. 

The  American  people  are  honest  and  open-minded,  and  when 
once  they  realize  that  a  large  number  of  their  fellow-citizens  are 
asking  to  be  properly  heard  and  understood  in  this  matter,  they 
will  not  only  listen,  but  will  insist  upon  hearing  more. 

I  know  of  one  daily  prayer  that  has  gone  up  for  months  past, 
that  the  mass  of  the  American  people  should  be  led  into  the  one 
fold  of  the  one  Shepherd — ^the  true  Church.  Why  do  I  pray  that 
the  American  people  should  become  Catholics?  Because  it  is  their 
natural  destiny.  The  best  people  on  earth  ought  to  be  loyal 
believers  in  the  best  religion.  Catholic  faith,  in  my  opinion,  is  the 
only  force  that  can  save  our  national  character  and  national  great- 
ness, already  threatened  by  many  dangerous  elements  and  ten- 
dencies, from  the  peril  of  distintegration. 

I,  too,  believe  that  the  next  century  will  see  a  tidal  wave  of  con- 
version sweeping  the  majority  of  our  countrymen  into  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church.  At  this  Epiphany  season  how  shine  the  words 
of  Isaiah  :  "  Arise,  be  enlightened,  0  Jerusalem,  for  thy  Light  is 
come ! "  Those  words  the  prophet  uttered  seven  hundred  years 
before  the  incarnation  of  Christ,  yet  he  saw  the  event  so  clearly 
that  he  spoke  of  it  as  already  present.  We  American  Catholics  of 
to-day  do  not  need  a  tithe  of  his  prophetic  power  to  declare  to  our 
countrymen  that  their  Light  is  come  and  will  presently  bathe  the 
land  in  splendor. 

Georqe  Parsons  Lathrop. 


LINCOLN  AND  WAR  TIMES. 


Abraham  Lincoln  and  Men  of  War  Times,  By  Hon.  A.  K. 
McClure,  LL.D,,  Editor  Philadelphia  "Times."  Phila- 
delphia:  J.  W.  Keeler  &  Co.,  Publishers. 

Op  all  men,  living  or  dead,  Colonel  McClure  was  probably  the 
most  favored  and  fitted,  by  training  and  circumstances,  to  give  an 
impartial  account  of  the  interior  politics  and  military  movements 
of  the  American  civil  war.  A  conservative  Whig  in  politics,  with 
anti-slavery  sympathies;  holding  an  important  journalistic  position, 
in  a  State  whose  pivotal  position  at  the  opening  of  the  war,  and 
whose  important  and  critical  position  throughout  the  war,  was  well 
known  to  all  the  men  of  those  times ;  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with 
Lincoln  in  his  conservative  war  measures,  and  thoroughly  opposed 
to  Simon  Cameron,  then  the  leading  politician  of  Pennsylvania ; 
trusted  of  Lincoln  as  much  as  Lincoln  trusted  anybody;  in 
frequent  private  and  important  intercourse  with  Lincoln  during  the 
entire  period  of  the  war ;  a  wide-awake,  long-headed  man,  with 
considerable  faith  in  moral  principles;  of  a  broad,  judicial  sort  of 
mind,  and  with  a  lucid,  rhetorical  style  of  writing,  Mr.  McClure 
might  have  been  the  great  historian  of  our  civil  war,  if  life  had  not 
called  him  to  the  daily  drudgery  of  editorial  work  on  the  Phil- 
adelphia Times. 

As  it  is,  intelligent  readers  all  over  the  world  will  find  in  this 
book — made  up  of  a  series  of  articles,  originally  written  for  and 
published  in  the  JXraes — more  real  insight  into  the  character  of 
many  leading  men  of  those  times,  and  a  clearer  explanation  of 
many  of  the  more  important  events  of  the  war,  than  can  be  found 
elsewhere. 

The  discriminations  of  the  character  of  Lincoln  are  as  true 
and  original  as  they  are  well  written  and  very  readable.  The 
light  thrown  on  the  career  of  Simon  Cameron,  and  the  charity 
displayed  toward  that  old-time  political  enemy,  are  clear,  noble 
and  commendable. 

I  think  the  Colonel  has  not  done  justice  to  Mr.  Chase ;  but 
Chase  was  one  of  my  especial  pets  of  the  war  time,  and  while  I  was 


170  THE  GLOBE. 

not  in  a  position  to  see  the  glaring  faults  and  selfishness  of  the  man, 
Colonel  McClure  was  in  such  position,  and  I  naturally  defer  my 
judgment  to  his. 

If  anything,  Curtin  is  overdone,  but  one  can  pardon  and  admire 
Colonel  McClure's  enthusiasm  for  his  life-long  friend ;  and  the  book, 
spite  of  its  faults  of  composition,  should  be  read  far  more  widely 
than  Grant's  Memoirs  or  any  other  book  of  the  war  times  yet 
published. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


FIRST  AND  LAST  LOVE. 


Second  childhood,  as  well  as  first,  leans  on  a  mother's  love.  A 
good  mother  is  immortal.  Memory  preserves  her  reality  when 
her  earthly  presence  is  no  more.  When  President  Nott,  of  Union 
College,  was  more  than  ninety  years  old,  and  had  been  for  half  a 
century  a  college  president,  as  strength  and  sense  failed  him  in 
his  dying  hours,  the  memory  of  his  mother's  love  was  fresh  and 
potent,  and  he  could  be  hushed  to  needed  sleep  by  patting  him 
gently  on  the  shoulder  and  singing  to  him  the  familiar  lullabies 
of  long  ago,  after  the  fashion  of  that  mother,  who  he  fancied  was 
still  at  hand  to  care  for  him. 

Of  his  mother,  a  plain,  quiet,  Scotch  woman,  Thomas  Carlyle, 
who  had  a  very  humble  origin,  invariably  spoke  with  the  tender- 
est  love.  He  called  her  "  his  incomparable  mother,"  and  no  words 
seemed  too  emphatic  to  express  his  devotion.  "  Oh,  her  patience 
with  me !  Oh,  her  never-tiring  love !  Blessed  be  poverty  which 
was  never  indigence  in  any  form,  and  which  has  made  all  that 
tenfold  more  dear  and  sacred  to  me !"  Such  sentiments  of  affec- 
tion are  more  powerful  than  were  his  intellectual  attainments  to 
"  keep  the  memory  green  "  of  the  "  Sage  of  Chelsea." 

The  three  sons  of  an  Eastern  queen  tried  to  show  their  love  for 
their  mother  by  gifts  laid  upon  her  grave.  The  spectators  most 
applauded  one  who  made  a  libation  of  his  own  blood.  The  offer- 
ing of  a  few  drops  in  honor  of  his  mother  was  counted  a  great 
virtue. 

"  In  a  spring  freshet,"  says  Lamartine,  "  a  river  rent  away  a 
bough  whereon  a  bird  had  built  a  cottage  for  her  summer  home. 


FIRST  AND  LAST  LOVE.  171 

Down  the  white  and  whirling  stream  drifted  the  green  branch, 
with  its  wicker-cup  of  unfledged  song,  and  fluttering  beside  it 
went  the  mother-bird ;  unheeding  the  roaring  river,  on  she  went, 
her  cries  of  agony  and  fear  piercing  the  pauses  in  the  storm. 
How  like  the  love  of  an  old-fashioned  mother,  who  followed  the 
child  she  had  plucked  from  her  heart  all  over  the  world  !  Swept 
away  by  passion  that  child  might  be ;  it  mattered  not ;  though  he 
was  bearing  away  with  him  the  fragrance  of  the  shattered  roof- 
tree,  yet  that  mother  was  with  him — a  Ruth  through  all  his  life, 
and  a  Rachel  at  his  death." 

In  further  illustration  of  parental  love,  we  would  speak  of  a 
German  mother,  who  often  resorted  to  the  graveyard  to  weep  over 
the  graves  of  her  eleven  dead  children,  and  who  had  yet  a  living 
son,  whose  misconduct  was  the  greatest  sorrow  of  her  life.  One 
day  he  ran  away  from  home.  The  mother's  heart  followed  him 
in  his  prodigal  flight.  She  sent  a  messenger  to  search  for  him. 
To  him  she  said,  "  If  you  find  my  boy  sick,  or  in  prison,  or  in  any 
want,  do  all  that  you  can  for  him,  and  I  will  repay  you."  She 
charged  him  to  search  through  the  streets  and  alleys  of  a  great 
city  till  he  should  find  him. 

Pomponius  Atticus,  a  Roman,  pronounced  a  funeral  oration  on 
the  death  of  his  mother,  and  asserted  that,  though  he  had  resided 
vrith  her  sixty-seven  years,  he  was  never  once  reconciled  to  her, 
because  there  never  happened  the  least  discord  between  them,  and 
consequently  there  was  no  need  of  reconciliation. 

A  Massachusetts  chaplain,  passing  over  a  battle-field  during  our 
civil  strife,  saw  a  man  just  dying.  His  mind  was  wandering.  His 
spirit  was  no  longer  on  that  bloody  field,  it  was  at  his  home  far 
away.  A  smile  passed  over  his  face — a  smile  of  rare  sweetness,  as, 
looking  up  he  said :  "Oh,  mother!  oh,  mother!  I'm  so  glad  you 
have  come ! "  And  it  seemed  as  if  she  was  there  by  his  side.  By 
and  by  he  said  again :  "  It's  cold !  It's  cold !  Won't  you  pull  the 
blanket  over  me  ?  "  The  chaplain  stooped  down,  and  pulled  the 
poor  fellow's  ragged  blanket  closer  to  his  shivering  form.  And  he 
smiled  again ;  "  That  will  do,  mother ;  that  will  do ! "  And  so, 
turning  over,  he  passed  sweetly  into  rest,  and  was  borne  up  to  the 
presence  of  God  on  the  wings  of  his  pious  mother's  prayers. 

Out  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  candidates  for  the  ministry  it 
was  found  that  more  than  one  hundred  attributed  their  religious 
experience  to  the  example  and  prayers  of  their  mothers.    When 


172  THE  GLOBE. 

John  Wesley  was  about  deciding  to  go  as  a  missionary  to  Georgia, 
he  asked  the  consent  of  his  noble  mother,  Mrs.  Susanna  Wesley. 
She  replied :  "  Had  I  a  hundred  sons,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  them 
all  engaged  in  such  a  blessed  work,  although  I  might  see  them  no 
more  in  this  world." 

"  Nothing,"  says  H.  W.  Beecher,  "  can  compare  in  beauty,  and 
wonder,  and  admirableness,  and  divinity  itself,  to  the  silent  work 
in  obscure  dwellings  of  faithful  w^omen,  bririging  their  children 
to  honor,  and  virtue,  and  piety,  I  tell  you,  the  inside  is  larger 
than  the  outside.  The  loom  is  more  than  the  fabric.  The  thinker 
is  more  than  thought.     The  builder  is  more  than  the  building." 

George  B.  Griffith. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  GOETHE." 


"  The  Wisdom  of  Goethe  "  is  rather  a  ponderous  title  for  the 
delightful  medley  of  criticism,  philosophy,  citation  and  comment, 
by  Professor  John  Stuart  Blackie,  of  Edinburgh,  published  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  New  York.  There  is  a  penetrative,  re- 
fined sight  throughout  Professor  Blackie's  work ;  but  for  all  that 
there  is  also  a  lack  of  something,  a  partiality  of  the  critical  sense, 
or  an  overabundance  of  charity.  The  work  is  dedicated  to  the 
"  Rev.  Walter  Chalmers  Smith,  D.D.,  a  large-hearted  preacher,  a 
generous  theologian,  and  a  healthy-minded  poet,"  with  an  intima- 
tion that  it  is  for  guidance  in  fruitful  action  and  sound  thinking. 
According  to  most  people's  ways  of  thinking,  the  Rev.  Charles 
Smith,  or  other  gentlemen  of  his  profession,  would  have  to  be  de- 
cidedly generous  theologians  in  order  to  accept  Goethe  as  a  guide 
to  sound  thinking.  But  Professor  Blackie  himself  is  a  man  of 
wide  and  generous  culture,  and  his  long  familiarity  with  the  best 
models  of  Greek  thought  and  composition,  has  made  him  chari- 
table toward  those  infelicities  of  Goethe's  life  which  have  led  the 
exacting  world  to  quarrel  so  constantly  with  the  paganism  of  his 
genius  and  the  license  of  his  literary  work. 

The  battle  of  final  estimate  as  to  the  wisdom  of  Goethe  is  to  be 
fought  between  these  two  extremes  of  modern  culture ;  the  one 
making  a  pet  of  ideal  morality,  the  other  a  pet  of  genuine  art,  as 
expressed  in  all  times  and  lands  by  superior  intellects,  among 


''THE  WISDOM  OF  GOETHE."  173 

whom  Goethe  confessedly  was  and  is  a  burning  and  a  shining 
light.  No  man  can  rightly  judge  the  great  German  who  has  not 
thought  as  freely  as  he  thought,  and  lived  as  independently  and 
exaltedly.  Professor  Blackie  has  thought  through  the  same  chan- 
nels and  questions,  but  his  Scotch  birth  and  training  and  atmos- 
phere have  hung  as  flaming  swords  in  the  way  of  paths  that 
Goethe  trod  with  the  conscious  majesty  of  something  almost  di- 
vine. Professor  Blackie  admires  Goethe ;  believes  in  him,  but  he 
has  to  apply  salves  and  cover  facts  in  order  to  explain  away 
phases  of  the  poet's  life,  which  to  a  Scotch  professor  would  seem 
little  less  than  blasphemous  and  licentious,  if  they  met  him  in  the 
everyday  life  of  a  burly  neighbor  on  the  streets  of  Edinburgh. 

The  truth  is,  the  world  must  accept  Goethe  as  he  stands,  with 
all  the  facts  attaching  to  his  existence — and  which  Professor 
Blackie  festoons  with  pleasant,  Platonic  fancies — or  it  must  reject 
Goethe,  once  for  all,  as  an  invader  of  purity  and  a  violator  of  con- 
fidence, that  to  common  thinking  are  as  sacred  as  human  love. 
Mr.  Lewes  had  no  trouble  on  this  score,  for  he  himself  was  in 
altogether  a  more  questionable  atmosphere  than  Goethe  had  ever 
been;  and  besides,  with  unquestioned  breadth  of  reading,  Mr. 
Lewes  had  neither  the  fineness  of  nature  nor  lucidity  of  insight 
that  gave  him  a  right  to  be  the  interpreter  of  Goethe  to  this  gen- 
eration. 

What  Emerson  and  Carlyle  have  said  of  Goethe  is  all  admir- 
able in  its  way,  but  it  is  simply  snatchy  and  laudatory  in  the 
main,  and  nowhere  comprehensive  of  the  real  facts  in  the  case  or 
the  issues  involved.  To  this  hour  Goethe  remains  an  unsolved 
problem,  and  it  is  just  possible  that  a  new  generation  and  still  a 
newer  one  will  have  to  come  before  the  native  cleanness,  audacity, 
and  brilliancy  of  the  man  can  all  be  admitted  and  reconciled. 
Professor  Blackie's  book  is  a  very  pretty  and  kindly  attempt  in 
this  line — a  new  beginning  and  prelude  of  such  final  estimate. 

The  consensus  of  the  human  conscience  and  human  intellect 
that  could  and  did  include  Solomon  and  David  among  the  inspired 
writers  of  the  Old  Testament,  may  rise  again  some  day  and  speak 
once  more  to  that  in  us  all  which  is  broader  than  those  creeds  and 
interpretations  which  too  often  shut  the  daylight  out  of  human 
minds,  because  said  daylight  comes  or  seems  to  come  through  eyes 
that  pierce  our  creeds,  and  fingers  that  fling  all  shams  aside. 
Every  man  must  be  judge  of  what  helps  him  or  hinders.     Every 


174  TEE  GLOBE. 

man  has  an  instinct  for  that  which  he  can  apply  to  literature  as 
horse-sense  is  applied  to  fresh  or  mouldy  hay.  Goethe  will  not 
down.  Generous-minded  theologians  are  getting  his  "  wise  words" 
dedicated  to  them,  and  our  children's  children,  whose  eyes  are 
bright  enough  will  snap  amid  the  midnight  watches  as  they  are  en- 
shrouded with  the  images  of  a  genius  in  many  respects  the  most 
subtle  and  bewitching  the  world  has  ever  known. 

Professor  Blackie  begins  the  preface  of  his  book  with  this  bit  of 
lament:  "There  is  nothing  fills  me  with  more  sorrow  occasionally 
than  to  see  some  foolish  people  throw  away  their  lives."  The 
implication  would  seem  to  be  that  to  the  mind  of  the  author  Goethe 
■vvas  among  this  number.  But  he  does  not  mean  that.  In  fact, 
Mr.  Blackie  means  quite  the  reverse  of  that,  and  the  foolish  people 
are  rather  those  who  from  any  prejudice  are  unable  to  rise  to  the 
level  of  such  reading  as  shall  see  Goethe  as  he  is.  Following  the 
preface  is  a  chronological  summary  of  Goethe's  life,  grouping  other 
prominent  events  of  history  that  occurred  simultaneously  with  the 
marked  periods  of  the  poet's  career.  Then  follows  an  estimate  of 
the  character  of  Goethe,  beginning  with  the  rather  trite  expression 
that  "  the  elements  and  forces  that  build  up  a  man's  genius  and 
form  his  atmosphere  and  his  environments  are  of  two  kinds, 
internal  and  external." 

It  might  be  as  well  to  say  at  once  that  in  Goethe's  case,  as  in  all 
others,  a  man's  genius  is  a  part  of  his  atmosphere — rather  say, 
born  with  him — and  creates  his  atmosphere ;  the  internal  forever, 
thus  controlling  the  external  in  character  as  in  all  things.  Goethe's 
birth  and  early  life;  his  little  side-glances  at  Leipzig  University 
training;  his  early  tumbling  against  Lavater,  Basedow  and  Jacobi 
are  lightly  touched,  as  their  merits  deserve.  Goethe's  early  religious 
enthusiasm  and  his  later  entire  loss  of  it  are  mentioned  and  an 
unsatisfactory  explanation  offered.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that 
enthusiasm  is  a  characteristic  of  youth,  and  as  Goethe  grew  mature 
this  dropped  away.  The  truth  is  there  is  a  whole  tragedy  of  ex- 
istence in  that,  which  some  future  Shakespeare,  dealing  with  the 
internal  awfulnesses  of  human  splendors,  may  weave  into  other 
Hamleta  and  other  hears. 

In  describing  Goethe's  intimacy  with  the  Baroness  Charlotte 
von  Stein,  and  his  life  at  Weimar  in  general,  Professor  Blackie 
proves  that  he  has  much  more  charity  than  familiarity  with 
human  nature  and  the  ways  of  the  world.    Goethe's  "previous 


*'THE  WISDOM  OF  GOETHE."  176 

loves  were  mere  girls  on  the  sweet  primrose  borderiand  between 
sixteen  and  seventeen."  The  Baroness  had  been  a  faithful  wife, 
a  good  mother,  and  was  now,  at  thirty  years  of  age,  every  way  at- 
tractive. "  This  was  the  lady,  a  beau  ideal  of  fully  developed  and 
finely  harmonized,  chaste  womanhood,  whose  potent  graces  were 
destined  to  pour  a  healing  balm  into  the  heart  of  Goethe,  bleed- 
ing as  it  still  was  from  the  recently  disturbed  relations  with  Lili, 
and  prepared  by  nature  for  the  still  nobler  function  of  fostering 
and  training  the  great  representative  of  her  country's  literature, 
and  affording  to  him  a  constant  source  of  spiritual  consolation  in 
the  trying  circumstances  of  his  early  career  at  Weimar."  All 
very  pretty,  no  doubt.  But  William  Penn  might  have  written  as 
near  to  the  real  truth  of  Goethe's  Weimar  episode  and  training. 

Again,  Professor  Blackie  says :  "  During  the  whole  weary  ten 
years  of  what  the  Germans  call  his  Weimar  apprenticeship,  his 
beloved  Charlotte,  with  whom  he  lived  on  the  most  intimate  foot- 
ing— in  fact,  a  sort  of  recognized  member  of  the  family — acted  as 
a  wise  father  confessor  to  the  poet."  That  will  do.  In  truth, 
Goethe's  existence  at  Weimar  was  in  no  sense  a  weary  period, 
but  one  of  the  most  brilliant  episodes  of  petting  and  spoiling  any 
genius  was  ever  blessed  or  cursed  with.  Again,  Goethe  had  no 
idea,  nor  has  the  critical  world  any  idea,  that  the  Baroness  von 
Stein  was  training  his  genius.  That  she  did  pour  a  healing  balm 
into  his  heart  for  a  time,  and  that  she  got  a  great  deal  more  than 
she  had  to  give,  is  all  as  clear  as  star-fire  to  those  who  have  been 
there.  And  that  an  entirely  new  interpretation  of  spiritual  phe- 
nomena will  have  to  be  accepted  before  her  ministrations  to 
Goethe  can  be  interpreted  as  spiritual  consolation,  none  but  the 
most  liberal-minded  or  short-sighted  person  will  hardly  dream. 
One  does  not  need  to  be  uncharitable  or  condemnatory  in  putting 
a  wholly  different  interpretation  '  on  this  little  lapsus  naturse, 
of  which  men  and  women  will  gossip  and  gossip  to  the  end  of 
time. 

Sooner  or  later,  critics  and  the  world  at  large  will  perhaps  have 
to  take  Goethe's  own  estimate  of  his  later  relation  with  Christine 
Vulpius.  For  into  it,  as  into  the  serious  business  of  his  life,  he 
put  his  conscience  and  his  soul,  and  stood  bravely  to  the  last. 
His  life  with  Christine  became  a  part  of  his  splendid  work,  and  it 
is  understood  that  she  is  the  heroine  of  the  celebrated  *'  Roman 
Elegies." 


176  THE  GLOBE. 

Professor  Blackie  considers  Goethe  as  a  philosopher  in  com- 
parison with  Plato,  Spinoza  and  Leibnitz;  quotes  and  approves 
Matthew  Arnold's  estimate  of  him,  as  "  the  greatest  poet  of  the 
present  age,  and  the  greatest  critic  of  all  ages,"  and  concludes  his 
own  summary  by  the  suggestion  that  "  with  the  exception  of  cer- 
tain human  failings  here  and  there,  he  may  well  deserve  to  be 
studied  by  our  generation,  and  to  be  handed  down  to  long  gen- 
erations, as  the  model  of  a  perfectly  wise  and  virtuous  man." 
But  it  is  a  case  in  which  exceptions  can  hardly  prove  the  rule, 
and  virtue  must  put  on  new  spectacles  or  Goethe  take  a  few  turns 
at  repentance — which,  from  all  accounts,  he  was  the  last  to  do — 
before  this  verdict  will  be  accepted.  Professor  Blackie's  quota- 
tions from  Goethe's  prose  and  poetry  are  well  selected,  and  the 
book  has  a  variety  of  charms. 

W.  H.  Thobne. 


PERSONAL  AND  PERTINENT. 


Since  the  last  issue  of  The  Globe  I  have  seen  my  way  to  enter 
the  Catholic  Church,  and  as  when  I  took  this  step  it  was  with  the 
understanding  that  I  could  not  enter  the  Priesthood,  though  I  had 
hoped  to  do  so,  and  hence  that  any  honors  Rome  might  have  to 
bestow  were  beyond  my  grasp ;  and  as  the  step  was  taken  with  the 
full  consciousness  that  the  clientage  and  patronage  The  Globe  had 
won,  by  my  independent  thought  and  work,  would  in  all  proba- 
bility greatly  diminish  in  view  of  this  change;  my  worst  enemiesj 
if  I  have  any,  and  the  enemies  of  truth,  which  the  devil  has  in 
large  majorities  everywhere,  can  hardly  attribute  my  "  conversion" 
either  to  motives  of  ambition  or  greed  of  gain. 

As  to  the  Church,  I  am  moved  to  say  that  in  no  single  instance, 
up  to  this  writing — June  20,  1892 — has  any  representative  or 
member  of  it  given  me  the  slightest  encouragement  to  expect  any 
financial  or  other  aid  that  might  in  any  way  compensate  for  the 
possible  losses  just  indicated,  though  I  doubt  not  the  Church  will 
recognize  any  service  I  may  be  able  to  render,  and  will  reward  it 
as  God  designs. 

It  seems  proper  still  further  to  state  that,  as  The  Globe  has 
everywhere  been  recognized  so  largely  as  the  organ  of  my  personal 


PERSONAL  AND  PERTINENT.  177 

thought,  and  as  my  own  life  —  early  given  to  the  ministry, 
though  afterward  withdrawn  from  that  ministry  and  its  light  bro- 
ken with  various  darknesses — has  always,  and  especially  in  The 
Globe,  been  looked  upon  as  a  life  given  to  the  promulgation  and 
defense  of  religious  truth ;  for  to  this  end  was  I  bom,  and  to  this 
end  am  I  in  the  world,  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth.  It  seems 
proper,  I  say,  in  view  of  these  facts,  also  to  state  that  in  the  future 
whenever  The  Globe  touches  questions  of  theology,  it  will  be  held 
loyal  to  the  Catholic  Church,  though  I  have  no  idea  of  turning 
The  Globe  into  a  theological  quarterly,  but  intend  to  make  it  more 
truly  literary  than  ever. 

I  shall  welcome  to  its  pages,  as  of  old,  opinions  differing  from  my 
own,  provided  those  opinions  are  expressed  with  such  ability,  and 
with  such  respect  for  abstract  truth,  as  would  always  have  won 
them  a  welcome  to  this  Review.  In  all  other  respects,  and  on  all 
other  themes,  the  policy  of  The  Globe  and  its  attitude  toward  the 
falsehood,  hypocrisy,  duplicity,  corruption,  incompetency,  atheism 
and  infidelity  of  the  age  will  remain  absolutely  the  same,  un- 
changed and  unchangeable,  while  I  am  its  editor  and  owner. 

The  Globe  was  never  meant  to  be,  it  has  not  been,  and  will  not 
be,  primarily  a  review  of,  or  a  teacher  of,  dogma.  Its  mission  is  not 
primarily  to  elucidate  theological  and  dogmatic  history  in  and  by 
the  light  of  modern  scholarship  and  science,  so-called,  but  to  prove, 
test  and  let  God's  eternal  daylight  in  upon  the  events,  revelations, 
discoveries,  sciences,  literatures,  pretensions,  politics  and  quackery 
of  the  present  time. 

The  elucidation  and  explanation  of  Catholic  dogma  has  been 
long  and  ably  attended  to  in  this  country  by  the  American  Catholic 
Quarterly  Review,  published  in  Philadelphia,  and  by  the  Catholic 
V/orld,  published  in  New  York.  The  sphere  for  The  Globe  is  to 
seize  upon  present  events  and  test  them  by  the  old  eternal  prin- 
ciples of  truth  and  culture ;  and  for  this  work,  perhaps,  the  editor 
of  The  Globe  has  had  exceptional  training. 

To  those  who  have  been  admitted  to  any  familiarity  with  my 
inner  life,  during  the  last  fifteen  years,  and  especially  to  readers  of 
The  Globe,  the  step  here  indicated  will  not  be  a  surprise.  Up  to 
the  age  of  sixteen  I  knew  little  or  nothing  of  Catholics  or  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  In  the  little  South  of  England  village,  where  I 
was  born,  we  were  well  content  with  the  services  of  the  Church  of 
England  (the  Catholic  structure  of  which  I  never  understood  till 


178  THE  GLOBE. 

the  moment  of  this  writing),  with  the  Wesleyan  chapel,  and  such 
services  as  the  Independents  held  in  an  old  barn,  and  the  occasional 
shoutings  of  the  Ranters  in  their  meeting-house  on  the  side  hill. 
If  I  had  ever  heard  of  a  Catholic  or  of  the  Catholic  Church  up  to  that 
time  it  was  in  a  sort  of  suppressed  breath,  as  something  ghostly? 
terrible,  and  of  the  past;  so  that  when  I  first  came  to  the  United 
States,  in  1855, 1  was  about  as  ignorant  of  the  Catholic  Church  as  is 
the  average  Protestant  of  to-day,  who,  never  having  entered  one  of 
its  buildings  or  listened  to  one  of  its  services,  or  consulted  one  of  its 
priests,  or  read  one  of  its  books,  continues  to  hate  and  abuse  the 
Catholic  Church  for  no  other  reason  than  that  his  or  her  fore- 
fathers— Puritans  or  what  not — hated  Catholics,  persecuted  them, 
distrusted  them,  and  in  every  way  acted  like  incarnate  fiends  in 
every  action  that  related  to  Catholics,  or,  indeed,  to  any  other 
religious  persons  not  the  avowed  bond-slaves  of  the  hard  and 
narrow,  tyrannical,  unreasonable  and  ignorant  prejudices  of 
Puritanism. 

Being  ignorant  of  Catholicism  in  these  early  years,  I  did  not,  of 
course,  pretend  to  understand,  much  less  to  hate,  berate  and  despise 
it.  In  this  respect  I  always  differed  from  the  average  New  Eng- 
land and  other  cultured  Protestant  Catholic-hater  of  ancient  or 
modern  times.  As  an  illustration  of  this  ignorant  hatred,  ancient 
and  modern,  I  quote  here  the  language  of  a  good  friend  of  mine 
from  a  letter  received  by  me  since  I  became  a  member  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  premising  only  that  the  writer  is  one  of  the  most 
cultured  and  representative  of  the  New  England  Protestant  literati 
of  these  days.    This  good  Puritan  friend  says: 

"  You  know  my  opinion  of  Romanism  as  a  system.  I  not  only 
distrust  it,  but  view  it  with  horror.  Its  history  is  written.  .  . 
From  my  standpoint  the  Romanist  is  to  be  shunned,  and  a  Ro- 
manist you  now  are.  .  .  .  Though  I  have  had  some  pleasant 
acquaintances  among  Papists,  I  have  never  allowed  one  to  ripen 
into  friendship.  Even  as  a  servant  in  my  household  I  never  em- 
ploy one.  The  truth  is,  they  are  not  to  be  trusted,  and  you  will 
find  this  out  for  yourself  sooner  or  later.  The  outside  is  fair,  but 
delusive.     Duplicity  is  the  beginning  and  end  of  it  all. 

"  I  cannot  at  all  adjust  myself  to  the  thought  of  you  in  this  light. 
Yet  I  suppose  I  must.  The  honor  and  honesty  and  conscience, 
which  I  have  recognized  and  admired  through  all  your  aberrations, 
will  be  gone  before  you  have  been  a  year  under  their  influence, 


PERSONAL  AND  PERTINENT.  179 

consciously  to  yourself,  perhaps — if  unconsciously,  so  much  the 
worse.  Such  moral  deterioration  is  a  painful  spectacle,  to  gods 
and  men.  ...  I  may  as  well  be  frank  with  you  for  once  and 
all."  Certainly  there  is  a  great  deal  of  frankness  in  this ;  and  a 
well-known  professor  and  author  of  Philadelphia  writes  to  me,  in 
substance :  "  While  I  have  often  admired  your  work,  what  does  it 
produce  ?  Nothing  but  thorns,  thorns,  thorns.  .  .  .  Were  it 
possible  for  you  to  be  a  Catholic  you  would,  inside  of  six  months, 
be  telling  the  Pope  that  he  was  an  ass."  The  professor's  mistake 
is  in  supposing  that  I  have  no  better  opinion  of  the  Pope  than  I 
have  of  the  professor  himself 

Thus  the  ignorance,  impudence,  and  pitiable  vulgarity  of  so- 
called  refined  and  cultured  people  reveal  themselves,  when  for  a 
moment  such  people  are  off"  their  hypocritical  guard  and  speak 
out  from  the  shallow  depths  of  their  untaught,  untractable,  and 
utterly  un-Christian  souls,  and  especially  when  the  Catholic  Church 
is  under  consideration.  Both  of  these  people  are  of  the  small  cir- 
cle to  whom  I  felt  moved  to  write  personally  on  the  subject.  Both 
of  them  have  been  good  friends  of  mine.  One  of  them  has  sub- 
scribed liberally  toward  the  success  of  The  Globe,  and  the  other 
volunteered  long  ago  to  aid  me  financially  when  I  was  publishing 
my  book.  Modem  Idols.  Both  have  immense  conceit  of  their  ac- 
complishments far  beyond  the  real  facts.  But  my  special  mission 
with  them  here,  or  rather  with  the  reading  world  through  them, 
is  to  say  that  when  people,  either  by  inheritance  or  by  any  special 
gift  of  money-getting,  have  felt  moved  to  aid  a  prophet  or  a 
teacher  of  truth  in  the  utterance  of  his  truth,  their  acts  of  aid,  no 
matter  how  liberal,  do  not  either  constitute  them  prophets,  teach- 
ers of  truth,  or  masters,  or  self-chosen  advisers  of  the  teachers  of 
truth ;  much  less  do  such  acts  make  such  teacher  the  slave  of 
such  benevolent  people.  On  the  contrary,  the  fact  that  they  are 
admitted  by  heaven  to  the  privilege  of  aiding  such  a  man,  ought  to 
make  them  grateful  and  humble,  alike  toward  him  and  toward 
Almighty  God.  Such,  however,  is  unfortunately  seldom  the  case. 
On  the  contrary,  the  rascally  Judas,  who  carries  the  money-bag,  is 
pretty  sure  to  feel  that  he  is  boss,  even  of  the  Jesus  who  gives  the 
rascal  power  to  live ;  nevertheless,  one  poor  man,  with  God,  has 
often  proved  himself  the  true  inspiring,  yea  the  one  supreme  power 
in  this  world. 

Time  and  again  I  am  obliged  to  say  in  The  Globe,  that  I  often 


180  THE  GLOBE. 

by  my  silence  allow  miserable  knaves  to  take  me  for  a  fool,  rather 
tlian  let  them  see  that  I  understand  the  depths  of  their  knavery. 
But  they  do  not  need  to  write  me  insulting  letters  in  order  to  re- 
veal to  me  their  innate  vulgarity ;  and  they  do  not  need  to  write 
me  ecclesiastical,  theological  and  philosophical  letters,  in  order  to 
reveal  to  me  the  shallowness  alike  of  their  learning  and  their  souls. 
It  is  my  business  to  know  these  things,  and  I  do  not  discuss  them, 
either  with  the  unwashed  or  the  uninformed. 

I  never  feel  any  unkindness  toward  such  people,  and  never  re- 
sent their  attacks.  In  fact,  when  they  express  a  desire  for  my 
friendship,  I  constantly  admit  them  as  closely  as  it  is  possible  for 
Christian  charity  to  strain  itself  in  leading  others  to  the  treasures 
of  its  own  immortal  joys. 

To  me  there  is  nothing  terrifying  in  these  Puritan  and  Quaker 
l)rophecies  of  evil.  Even  should  I  find  Catholics  to  be  as  false 
and  bad  as  my  good  friend  of  the  old  days  predicts,  it  would 
hardly  now  ruffle  the  temper  or  patience  of  one  who  has  found  in 
his  own  Protestant  household  the  subtlest,  falsest,  and  bitterest 
enemies,  alike  of  truth  and  of  his  own  character  and  soul.  And 
if  God  has  enabled  me  to  treat  these  with  forbearance  and  kind- 
ness, surely  he  will  give  me  strength  to  meet  any  new  foes  of 
truth  and  sincerity  that  I  may,  perchance,  find  among  the  friends 
or  enemies  that  are  yet  to  be. 

Unfortunately,  falsehood,  ignorance,  duplicity,  vulgarity,  sel- 
fishness, infidelity,  vice,  corruption  and  crime,  are  not  the  exclu- 
sive properties  of  any  race,  sect,  or  clime.  They  are  the  common 
inheritance  of  our  fallen,  or  Darwinian,  humanity.  In  Chicago 
they  call  this  sort  of  thing  Fultonism  or  Swingism.  But  of  this 
I  satisfied  myself  long  before  taking  the  step  here  indicated — viz. : 
that  no  good  Catholic  could  be  a  bad  man  or  woman,  precisely  as 
no  good  Christian  can  be  a  bad  man  or  woman ;  but  there  are  bad 
Catholics  and  bad  Christians  everywhere  ;  people  who  have  only  , 
a  name  to  live  while  they  are  dead;  people  who  are  not  even 
loyal  to  the  simplest  external  demands  of  their  Church,  not  to 
speak  of  those  internal,  spiritual,  and  eternal,  and  yet  supremely 
reasonable  demands,  which  the  spirit  of  Christ  makes  upon  the 
love  and  sonship  and  purity  and  fidelity  of  the  human  soul. 

The  weakness  and  fault  of  Mr.  Emerson  and  the  whole  school 
of  transcendental  and  Unitarian,  New  England  and  other  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  who  long  ago  found  themselves  without  a  religion 


PERSONAL  AND  PERTINENT.  181 

and  going  about  seeking  a  new  one,  were  First^  that  in  their  ruffled- 
shirt  pride  they  never  saw  their  own  sins  or  the  sins  of  the  coun- 
try and  nation.  Second,  that  they  therefore  had  no  means  of 
curing  their  own  sins  or  the  nation's.  Hence,  by  a  law  as  old  as 
God  himself,  they  have  naturally,  inevitably  drifted  into  all  the 
weaknesses  and  conceits  of  atheism,  and  a  self-contented,  independ- 
ent, Sadducaic,  humanitarian,  chameleon-like,  will-o'-the-wisp 
moonshine. 

Religion  is  impossible  to  a  man  who  does  not  see  the  Devil — say 
in  himself — as  clearly  as  he  sees  God  Almighty.  Religion  is  im- 
possible to  a  man  who  does  not  see  the  evil  as  clearly  as  the  good 
of  this  life — the  false  as  well  as  the. true.  Let  us  hope  the  day  may 
come,  in  some  far  future,  heaven,  even  on  earth,  when  we  shall 
see  and  worship  only  the  good.  But  that  will  not  be  under  the 
present  Postmaster-General. 

I  think  it  was  Cardinal  Newman  who  assured  Catholics  that 
they  had  no  conception  of  the  evil  and  absurd  things  Protestants 
believed  and  thought  of  them.  Unfortunately  the  converse  of 
this  is  also  true.  But  what  a  pitiable  sign  is  all  this  of  the  pitia- 
ble side  of  our  poor,  imperfect,  human  lives ;  and  could  I  but 
touch  these  lives  with  the  ineffable  charity  of  Christ  and  his  true 
Church,  what  a  revival  of  the  victories  of  the  apostolic  ages  might 
again  bless  and  enlighten  and  enkindle  the  world!  Perhaps  the 
good  friends  who  now  mistrust  and  abuse  me  may  one  day  find 
that  the  hope  of  this,  and  this  only,  is  the  key  to  whatever  in  my 
life  may  seem  strange  and  offensive  to  them  in  these  and  other 
days. 

Lest,  however,  my  readers  should  conclude  that  I  must  have 
been  unfortunate  in  my  friendships,  let  me  say  here  once  for  all — 
adapting  the  language  of  the  noble,  but  impulsive,  Brutus — I  have 
never  had  a  friend  in  all  my  life,  but,  after  awhile  he  or  she  was 
true  to  me,  and  on  my  own  terms.  I  am  painfully,  yet  joyously, 
aware  that  my  aims  in  this  world  are  not  those  of  the  average  man 
or  woman,  and  that  hence  they  are  constantly  misunderstanding 
me,  occasionally  becoming  my  enemies ;  bat  the  sunrise  comes  at 
last,  and  we  see  eye  to  eye,  without  bitterness  and  some  approach 
to  Christian  charity. 

In  happy  contrast  with  the  communications  already  quoted  I 
have  a  letter  from  a  very  gifted  clergyman  of  tlie  Episcopal  Church, 
heartily  congratulating  me  on  the  step  I  have  taken,  adding, 
13 


182  THE  GLOBE. 

however,  as  becomes  a  loyal  man  in  his  place,  that  he  never  expects 
to  follow.     But  we  never  can  tell. 

I  do  not  feel  that  this  is  the  place  or  that  this  is  the  time  for  me 
to  undertake  a  defense  of  Catholics  or  of  Catholicism,  in  reply  to 
the  strictures  already  quoted.  I  am  simply  telling  the  story  of 
my  early  and  present  attitude  toward  Catholicism,  with  side- 
glances  as  we  go  along. 

From  the  age  of  17  or  18  to  the  age  of  28  or  30,  that  is,  during 
my  studies  for  and  early  settlement  in  the  new-school  Presbyterian 
ministry,  my  views  of  the  Catholic  Church  were  those  of  the 
average  intelligent,  liberal-minded  Protestant  preacher  of  the 
period,  viz.:  that  while  it  was,  in  some  overgrown  sense,  a  branch 
of  the  true  Christian  Church,  it  had,  by  its  unreasonable  claims  of 
authority,  its  old-time  selling  out  to  kings  and  princes,  its  perse- 
cutions of  Protestants,  and  its  exaggeration  and  travesty  of  Christian 
doctrine  and  life,  sold  its  original  birthright ;  and  though  it  might 
perhaps  be  tolerated  as  a  religion  for  the  ignorant  and  superstitious, 
it  was,  in  fact,  a  thing  of  the  past,  that  ought  to  be  taking  itself  away ; 
and  that,  of  course,  the  future  of  the  world  belonged  to  liberal  but 
orthodox  Christian  Protestantism. 

During  my  last  two  years  in  the  Presbyterian  ministry,  how- 
.ever,  this  view  was  somewhat  modified,  though  not  deeply  changed, 
by  near  personal  contact  with  two  or  three  cultivated  Catholic 
priests.  Then  came  a  period  of  renewed  study  of  the  bases  of  all 
Christian  doctrine;  a  period  when  Matthew  Arnold,  J.  S.  Mill, 
Buckle,  Draper,  Emerson,  Carlyle,  Goethe,  Voltaire,  Renan,  Strauss, 
and  many  a  lesser  brood  of  new  lights,  had  full  sway  over  my  mind 
with  this  net  result,  within  three  years  after  withdrawing  from 
the  Presbyterian  ministry,  viz.,  that  not  Protestantism — not  even 
liberal  Christianism — but  Pvomanism  or  a  purely  new,  natural, 
supernatural,  religious  rationalism,  would  rule  the  future  world ;  and 
as  I  did  not  believe  that  Romanism  could  do  so,  I  proceeded  to  evolve 
Oosmotheism.,  as  of  God  in  nature,  and  in  all  human  history,  in- 
dependent of  all  past  religious  beliefs,  but  intended  to  reconcile  all 
in  one  suprenie  religion  of  the  future.  The  aim  of  Cosmotheism 
was  not  primarily  to  explain  the  God  of  Christianity  or  to  honor 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but  giving  them  their  respective  places  in 
the  great  walhalla  of  religious  heroes  and  deities,  to  build  a 
religious  system  out  of  nature  and  reason  and  the  natural  super- 
natural light  of  all  ages,  greater  than  all  the  past,  and  able  to  con- 
tain it,  and  to  lead  the  future,  worlds  without  end. 


PERSONAL  AND  PERTINENT.  183 

Nearly  twenty  years  have  passed  since  this  system  entered  into  and 
was  evolved  out  of  my  mind.  Much  of  modem  Christian  science — 
Theosophy  and  Lyman  Abbott  evolutionism — can  trace  its  origin 
to  the  lirst  declaration  of  Cosmotheism  twenty  years  ago.  For 
at  that  time,  it  will  be  remembered,  no  man  had  attempted  any  such 
construction ;  and  in  all  the  years  that  have  passed  since  the  first 
announcement  of  Cosmotheism,  no  author  has  added  one  rational 
iota  worth  preserving  in  all  the  books  that  have  been  written  on 
the  subject.     Cosmotheism  is  not  Pantheism. 

A  few  years  after  the  first  writing  of  Cosmotheism,  and  say,  from 
1872-1874  till  within  the  past  year,  I  was,  when  in  Philadelphia, 
a  frequent  attendant  at  the  vesper  services,  or  as  I  later  learned  to 
call  them,  the  services  of  the  Benediction,  in  the  Catholic  Cathedral 
on  Logan  Square.  At  first  I  went  to  hear  the  music — especially  the 
organ — because  it  had  been  built  by  the  father  of  some  Unitarian 
ladies  who  had  attended  my  own  preachings ;  and  I  soon  found  my- 
self moved  by  this  music  as  I  never  had  been  moved  by  any  music 
in  Protestant  churches.  So  I  continued  to  go,  mainly  for  a  sort  of 
devotional  enjoyment.  After  some  years,  however,  and  notably 
after  many  and  severe  trials  in  my  own  life,  and  after  much  new 
study  along  all  lines  of  religious  truth,  I  found  myself  more  moved 
toward  God  and  peace  and  duty  by  the  simple  services  of  the 
Catholic  altar  than  by  any  Protestant  preaching  I  had  ever  heard. 
So  the  great  central  fact  of  the  universe,  viz.,  the  incarnation  of  God 
in  Christ,  and  the  next  great  world-fact  of  the  incarnation  of  this 
Christ  in  the  services  of  the  Catholic  Church,  came  back  to  me  as 
if  out  of  heaven,  until  Cosmotheism  and  all  other  voices  of  human 
reason  seemed  to  be  but  the  cryings  of  a  child  in  the  night,  until 
the  door  was  opened  to  me  also,  which  no  man  shutteth,  and  I 
entered  in  and  found  rest  and  peace. 

More  than  that  I  cannot  at  present  reveal.  To  tell  how,  step  by 
step,  through  years  of  exactest  thought,  through  blinding  tears, 
through  agonies  of  yearning  for  the  whole  truth  and  duty— come  life 
come  death — and  finally  through  the  aid  of  a  venerable  priest  and 
the  beautiful  kindnesses  and  prayers  of  a  company  of  Christ's  own 
angels,  in  a  sisterhood  of  the  Church,  I  saw  it  as  the  new  Jerusalem 
of  God  on  earth ;  the  true  bride  of  Christ,  the  true  ark  of  human 
safety  ;  the  perfect  ministry  to  and  voicing  of  the  religious  human 
Boul ;  and  how  I  too  was  enabled  to  bend  the  knee  before  ita  altars 
and  partake  of  its  sacraments,  would  be  like  tearing  one's  heart  out 


184  TEE  GLOBE. 

and  holding  it  up  to  public  gaze — mayhap  for  daws  to  peck  at  or 
to  be  trampled  under  the  feet  of  swine. 

In  due  time,  however,  I  hope  to  make  all  these  things  so  plain 
and  simple  in  their  truth,  that  a  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  will 
gladly  drop  his  materialism,  his  silly  philosophy,  above  all  his 
own  pride  and  conceit,  and  be  obedient  to  God's  truth  as  it  is 
revealed  through  Christ  in  his  Church  in  this  bewildering  world. 

It  would  seem  like  premature  and  presumptive  folly  for  one 
just  entering  the  portals  to  describe  the  glories  of  the  star  spaces  of 
love  and  charity  and  heavenly  peace  that  may  have  dawned  on  his 
eyes.  If  I  recollect  the  great  Apostle  did  not  attempt  to  describe 
the  glories  of  the  seventh  heaven  his  rapt  vision  had  beheld.  And 
plainly  as  I  have  spoken  in  The  Globe,  those  who  know  me  best 
know  very  well  that  the  deepest  experiences  and  visions  of  my 
own  life  have  as  yet  found  no  printed  words ;  and  they  will  not 
till  the  time  comes,  when  I  may  feel  as  free  and  as  bound  to  speak 
of  these  things  as  of  the  things  that  now  employ  my  tongue  and  pen. 

Catholicism  has  taken  care  of  its  own  reputation  these  eighteen 
hundred  years,  and  is  in  no  immediate  need  of  me  as  an  apologist 
therefor;  moreover,  my  work  in  this  world,  whether  in  or  out  of  the 
Catholic  Priesthood,  will  remain  largely  the  same,  that  is,  to  bear 
witness,  by  every  simplicity  and  fidelity  of  life  and  by  such  words 
as  I  can  utter,  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  Christ  and  Christianity, 
and  to  lead  men's  souls  to  those  depths  and  heights  of  pure  charity 
and  joy  that  can  never  be  found  outside  the  fold  and  temple  that 
God  himself  has  framed  and  made  in  this  beautiful  world. 

Finally,  should  I  have  to  meet  suspicion,  unkindness  or  even 
cruelty  among  Catholics,  I  know  in  advance  that  those  evils  are  not 
the  result  of  their  religion,  but  of  the  absence  of  it,  and  I  know  also 
in  advance,  that  the  specific  directions  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
and  the  sublime  words  of  the  Apostle  to  the  Corinthians,  if  lived 
up  to,  are  the  only  and  the  sure  cure  for  such  evils ;  that  there  are 
no  two  ways  to  conquer  evil,  but  only  one  way ;  and,  by  and  by, 
friend  and  foe  alike  will  understand  that  I  have  not  entered  the 
Catholic  Church  expecting  to  find  an  easier  time  or  better  friends 
than  I  have  had,  but  in  simple  obedience  to  the  voice  of  duty 
and  of  God,  and  in  simple  loyalty  to  what  I  clearly  see  to  be  the 
highest  evolution  of  God  in  mankind. 

W.  H.  Thoene. 


GLOBE  NOTES. 


It  is  now  three  years  since  The  Globe  was  founded,  and  it 
enters  upon  its  fourth  year,  dipping  its  pen  in  sunlight  and 
bearing  to  its  readers  the  fragrance  and  charity  of  the  flowers. 

The  Globe  was  founded  without  a  dollar  of  capital  back  of  it, 
and  when  its  editor  and  owner  was  homeless,  friendless  and  de- 
serted even  by  his  own.  To  such  a  pass  had  thirty  years  of 
earnest  study  and  of  life  constantly  devoted  to  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  others,  plus  a  temporary  loss  of  faith,  brought  me 
when  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty  to  found  a  magazine  in  this  country 
that  should  show  no  quarter  to  falsehood  or  incompetency,  either 
in  the  literature,  religion,  politics,  art,  statesmanship,  or  mammon- 
ism  of  the  times. 

From  a  date  very  early  in  its  career,  and  notwithstanding  these 
facts.  The  Globe  has  numbered  among  its  subscribers  and  friends 
archbishops,  bishops  and  many  prominent  clergymen  of  the 
CathoUc  and  Protestant  Churches,  many  statesmen,  and  leading 
politicians  of  all  parties,  and  very  many  representative  members 
of  the  professions  of  medicine  and  the  bar.  Still  The  Globe  has 
never  been  exclusively  a  magazine  for  parsons  and  learned  men. 
On  the  contrary,  wide-awake  clerks,  proofreaders,  salesmen, 
merchants,  and  many  gifted  women,  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
have  not  only  subscribed  for  The  Globe,  some  of  them  liberally, 
but  they  have  read  it  with  care  and  joy,  have  talked  of  it  to  their 
friends,  loaned  their  copies  right  and  left,  and,  better  still,  they 
have,  in  scores  of  instances,  written  me  the  most  beautiful  and 
encouraging  letters  regarding  their  estimate  of  The  Globe,  and  so 
have  sustained  my  hands  and  often  kept  my  broken  heart  from 
fainting  and  failing  utterly  in  the  great  enterprise  undertaken. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  many  public  libraries,  clubs  and  literary 
circles,  here  and  abroad,  have  either  subscribed  for  The  Globe,  or 
liave  gratefully  received  it  as  a  gift  from  its  impoverished  editor 
and  owner.  So  that  at  this  date  I  can  confidently  feel  that  The 
Globe  has  won  a  circle  of  from  eight  to  ten  thousand  careful 
readers,  among  all  classes  of  representative  people,  here  and  abroad; 
and  it  might  just  as  readily  have  won  a  hundred  thousand  actual 


186  THE  GLOBE. 

subscribers,  if  I  had  had  the  capital  or  the  strength  to  have  worked 
to  this  end. 

As  it  is,  The  Globe  has  paid  its  own  expenses  and  made  me  a 
modest  living  from  the  start,  and  to-day  not  only  has  several  trade 
credits — as  good  as  cash  due  it — and  quite  a  little  stock  of  back 
numbers  and  bound  volumes  on  hand,  but  in  actual  labor  in- 
vested and  in  plant  and  good-will  secured,  represents  an  invest- 
ment worth  not  less  than  $20,000. 

I  do  not  boast  of  this ;  I  dare  not  boast  of  it.  Whatever  of 
strength  I  have,  whatever  of  good  The  Globe  may  have  done,  or 
may  yet  do,  I  owe  it  all  to  the  mercy  and  grace  of  God,  and  to 
the  kindnesses,  past  and  present,  of  a  host  of  beautiful  friends. 

The  present  number  (10)  should  be  number  12,  but  ill-health 
and  overwork  the  last  two  years  have  delayed  several  numbers  ; 
still,  as  all  subscribers  get  their  four  numbers  for  their  two  dollars, 
and  as  hundreds  read  it  without  paying  at  all,  nobody  complains, 
or  has  a  right  to  complain. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  political  event  of  the  year,  to  date, 
is  the  return  of  Mr.  Gladstone  and  the  so-called  Liberal  party  to 
power  in  England ;  yet,  in  one  sense  it  only  means  the  reaction  of 
a  set  of  fools,  who,  having  grown  weary  of  strolling  down  one  side 
of  the  street,  turn  around  and  stroll  up  the  other.  Such  is  the 
real  majesty  of  the  ballot-box,  such  the  dignity  of  modern  civili- 
zation. 

Home  Rule  for  Ireland  is  still  the  leading  question  for  the  "Grand 
Old  Man,"  but  home  rule  for  Scotland,  for  Wales  and  the  true  final 
relationship  of  all  the  English  colonies  to  the  mother  government 
are  questions  pressing  almost  as  closely  upon  the  attention  of 
English  statesmen  of  the  near  future;  above  all — home  rule  for 
England  herself,  that  is,  some  sort  of  rule  that  shall  lessen  the 
number  of  paupers  and  thieves  in  that  most  Christian  land,  and 
teach  the  world  that  there  are  such  things  as  sincerity,  truth  and 
honor,  or  ought  to  be,  in  the  millennium  of  radicalism  to  which  the 
nations  are  aspiring. 

When  Mr.  Gladstone  was  in  power  before,  from  1881  to  1886,  it 
was  my  privilege  to  defend  much  of  his  policy  in  England  and 
Egypt  in  the  editorial  columns  of  one  of  the  most  influential  daily 
papers  in  America,  and  in  a  previous  number  of  The  Globe  I 
have  given  a  note  from  Mr.  Gladstone  to  me,  showing  his  appre- 


GLOBE  NOTES.  187 

ciation  of  that  work.  It  was  at  a  time  when  most  of  our  American 
foreign  editorial  writers  were  against  Gladstone  and  seemed  to 
think  that  the  once  famous  General  Gordon  knew  better  than  Mr. 
Gladstone  how  to  treat  the  natives  of  tropical  Africa.  I  thought 
differently,  and  the  sequel  has  proved  that  the  best  thing  for  Eng- 
land to  do  with  Central  Africa  is  to  let  it  alone  for  the  present.  I 
held  that  England  did  wisely — from  a  financial  and  commercial 
standpoint — in  holding  on  to  Egypt,  regardless  of  France;  but  that 
to  attempt  to  put  the  whole  of  Central  Africa  in  her  skirt-pockets 
was  a  crazy  scheme.  England  already  had  and  has  enough  irons 
in  the  fire. 

As  regards  Mr.  Gladstone's  original  scheme  of  home  rule  for  Ire- 
land, the  moment  I  read  the  cable  dispatches  announcing  his  pur- 
pose of  excluding  the  Irish  members  from  the  British  Parliament, 
in  case  home  rule  became  the  law,  I  said  that  would  kill  his 
scheme ;  and  I  wrote  him  so  personally,  and  it  did  kill  it,  as  it 
deserved  to  be  killed.  It  is  too  early  at  this  writing  to  say  what  will 
be  the  merits  or  demerits  of  the  old  man's  next  scheme  of  home 
rule,  for  at  this  writing  it  has  not  been  announced ;  but  Gladstone, 
with  all  his  splendid  abilities  as  a  writer  and  as  a  speaker,  never 
was  and  never  will  be  a  broad-minded  or  a  far-seeing  man,  and  it 
is  safe  to  assume  that  there  will  be  something  or  other  in  the  new 
scheme  quite  as  objectionable  as  the  feature  of  the  old  scheme 
which  killed  it. 

In  truth,  the  Irish  politicians  of  the  day  are  not  a  gifted  race, 
and  they  have  no  respectable  leader — probably  would  not  obey 
such  a  leader  if  they  had  one.  Men  that  can  be  fooled  into  follow- 
ing the  leadership  of  such  a  weathercock  and  characterless  chap  as 
was  Charles  S.  Parnell,  are  not  the  sort  of  men  to  know  or  trust 
the  leadership  of  a  truly  great  man.  They  are  more  apt  to  say, 
"  Crucify  him  !"  and  proceed  to  kick  him  into  the  gutters  of  their 
own  petty  contempt.  In  truth,  the  politics  of  England  and  Ireland 
are  in  pretty  nearly  as  bad  a  shape  as  the  politics  of  the  United 
States,  of  France,  Italy,  Austria,  Germany  and  Russia ;  and  we  are 
all  simply  heaping  up  a  pile  of  rubbish,  of  lies,  till  the  fearful  hour 
when  God's  avenging  angel  shall  touch  the  electric  spark  destined 
to  wrap  us  all  in  flames ;  maybe  by  cholera,  maybe  by  war. 

Will  not  our  conservative  sense  of  the  value  of  property,  the 
conservative  sense  growing  out  of  the  fact  of  large  numbers  of 
property  owners  mingling  in  public  affairs  in  these  days,  prevent 


188  THE  GLOBE. 

such  a  catastrophe?  Will  not  radicalism,  advanced  thought,  pro- 
gressive culture,  the  sober  second  thought  of  pious  deacons  usually 
given  to  lying  and  money-getting,  prevent  such  a  catastrophe  ? 
Will  the  struggling,  strangling  bodies  of  a  few  daring  cranks  stop 
the  rush  and  flow  of  Niagara  ?  What  are  a  hundred  shipwrecks 
with  all  their  precious  treasures  of  lives  and  merchandise  when 
once  the  sea  is  angry  ?  What  is  an  angry  sea  to  the  wrath  of  Al- 
mighty God  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  Wanamaker  or  Wanamaker- 
ism  can  subvert  the  eternal  laws  of  nature  ? 

No,  no !  Gladstone  is  near  his  end.  When  heifers  are  already 
tossing  him  on  their  horns,  and  Christian  Englishmen  are  offering 
£50  for  a  strip  of  said  beeve's  hide  ;  and  this,  too,  while  thousands 
of  able  Englishmen  and  Irishmen,  within  hailing  distance  of  Lon- 
don, are  starving  for  want  of  work ;  and  other  thousands  are 
drinking  themselves  into  filthy,  lustful  and  shameful  graves.  And 
you  expect  such  a  civilization  to  live  in  the  face  of  heaven,  because 
you  call  it  Christian  and  republican,  and  because  it  is  done  under 
the  all-protecting  arms  of  the  Australian  ballot.  May  the  Lord 
have  mercy  upon  your  ignorant  and  deluded  souls ! 

I  tell  you  we  are  almost  within  gun-shot  of  the  world-battle  that 
shall  break  your  Irish  home  rule,  your  French,  American  and 
Italian  republics,  your  Austrian,  German  and  Russian  monarchies, 
not  to  speak  of  the  empires  of  the  sick  man  and  the  Celestials, 
into  such  dust  and  ashes  as  demons  gloat  over,  and  simply  because 
you  have  put  darkness  for  light,  falsehood  for  truth,  have  built 
your  fortresses  and  your  armies  out  of  the  blood  and  oppressions 
of  the  poor,  and  have  not  heeded  the  simple  words  of  justice  and 
mercy  in  your  daily  dealings  with  each  other,  along  any  of  the 
pathways  of  the  world. 

I  believe  in  Gladstone  and  Home  Rule  as  the  immediate  best 
things  in  and  for  England  and  Ireland.  But  England  has  abused 
and  plucked  Ireland  until  she  has  little  to  rule  but  her  own  misery, 
and  that  takes  a  higher  faith  and  a  higher  civilization  than  Glad- 
stone has  ever  known.  Any  demon  soldier-thief,  like  William 
the  Conqueror  or  Cromwell,  can  ride  rough-shod  over  a  peace-loving, 
industrious  people,  plunder  their  homes,  their  churches,  and  burn 
their  pleading  lives;  but  in  the  Trust  Company  of  which  God 
Almighty  is  President,  accounts  are  kept  and  forces  stored  that 
bring  the  days  of  reckoning  and  judgment  to  all  such  people  and 
to  their  children's  children  in  all  generations.     I  therefore  expect 


GLOBE  NOTES.  189 

little  of  Gladstone's  Home  Rule  scheme.    And  as  for  Henry  La- 
bouchere  and  the  reasons  why  he  did  not  get  into  Gladstone's 

cabinet — 

"  Lack  a  lack  a  daisy! 
My  father's  crazy ; 
My  mother's  gone  to  bed 
And  got  a  little  baby  !" 

And  why  should  Henry  Labouchere,  or  any  man  like  him,  get 
into  Gladstone's  cabinet,  or  any  cabinet  but  his  own,  and  shut 
himself  in,  and  lock  himself  in  forever  and  ever  ?  English  cabinets 
are  not  such  tremendous  affairs  of  intellectual  and  moral  vigor  that 
a  man  of  any  calibre  need  be  proud  of  being  a  member,  except 
for  the  opportunity  it  might  offer  of  doing  a  good  stroke  of  official 
work  where  bad  strokes  are  the  rule ;  but  the  members  are  usually 
men  of  some  sense  and  sobriety,  and  Henry  Labouchere  was  never 
anything  but  a  clown. 

I  should  as  soon  think  of  chosing  Robert  IngersoU  to  lead  a 
prayer-meeting,  or  making  him  secretary  of  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association,  as  of  putting  Henry  Labouchere  into  the 
British  cabinet,  if  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  organize  such  a  machine ; 
and  I  fancy  Mr.  Gladstone,  being  of  all  things  a  man  of  shrewd 
common  horse-sense,  to6k  about  this  view  of  the  case. 

Next  thing  Mr.  Stead  will  be  cursing  because  he  is  not  made 
viceroy  of  India,  or  Female  Superintendent  of  the  British  Empire  ! 
But  will  such  men  never  learn  that  the  world  takes  them  at  their 
true  value  and  is  quite  willing  they  should  wear  their  striped  jackets 
and  crack  their  rude  jokes  in  the  rings  of  its  circuses,  but  nothing 
more? 

The  greatest  kings  and  cabinet  members  of  these  days  are  the 
uncrowned  kings — the  untitled  members — whose  intellectual  and 
moral  powers  make  them  masters  of  the  minds  and  hearts  of  mil- 
lions ;  but  Labouchere  and  Stead  are  not  of  this  stuff,  either.  They 
are  simply  first-class  clowns. 

Of  our  American  political  situation  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
speak.  We  are  just  on  the  eve  of  one  of  our  epochs  of  national 
ballot-stuffing,  and  whether  Mr.  Harrison  or  Mr.  Cleveland  is  to 
be  the  next  President  will  depend  no  more  on  an  honest  vote  of 
the  majority  of  American  citizens,  than  Bob  IngersoU's  next  athe- 
istic speech  will  depend  on  the  grace  of  God.    His  satanic  ma- 


190  THE  OLOBE. 

jesty,  the  Devil,  has  the  whole  management  of  the  business  in 
both  firms,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken. 

Four  years  ago  it  was  found  that  Quay,  Wanamaker  &  Co. 
were  better  ballot-stuffers,  on  the  whole,  than  the  representatives 
of  Mr.  Cleveland.  And  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Cleveland 
got  a  majority  of  the  votes  of  his  countrymen,  Quay,  Wanamaker 
&  Co.  boosted  their  man  into  power  by  the  subtle  machinery  of 
our  famous  electoral  system.  I  do  not  think  Quay  will  be  in  it  to 
the  same  extent  this  year ;  if  so  it  will  not  be  in  the  same  retail 
method.  And  Mr.  Harrity,  if  he  is  calculating  to  fight  over  again 
the  sort  of  battle  his  predecessors  fought  four  years  ago,  will  sim- 
ply "  get  left,"  in  the  forcible  parlance  of  the  boys ;  and  I  confess 
that  I  have  not  any  special  confidence  in  his  generalship.  Quay, 
Cameron,  Wanamaker  &  Co.  have  more  brains  in  a  day  than 
W.  F.  Harrity  &  Co.  will  be  apt  to  muster  throughout  the  next 
campaign.  Still,  as  far  as  principles  are  concerned,  and  as  far  as 
it  is  possible  to  think  of  these  in  politics  any  more,  my  sympa- 
thies are  with  the  Cleveland  men. 

I  think  that  free-trade  and  high  tariff  are  the  two  extremes  of 
honesty  and  dishonesty  in  modern  political,  commercial  and  busi- 
ness life;  but  the  Democrats  mean  free  trade  only  as  the  old-line 
Whigs  meant  anti-slavery — that  is,  as  far  as  it  seems  to  be  politi- 
cally safe  at  the  present  time.  I  think  that  utter  tariff  aboli- 
tion and  utter  free  trade  are  the  safe  and  true  methods  of  business 
— the  only  justice  between  man  and  man,  and  I  am  not  as  yet 
patient  enough  with  the  follies  and  lies  of  tariff  men  to  argue 
with  them  on  the  subject.  But  our  politics  have  little  relation  to 
principles,  as  I  said.  The  next  President  will  probably  be  elected 
by  fraud  and  trickery,  but  so  cunningly  wrought  that  Mr.  Har- 
rity may  never  get  at  the  mainspring  of  the  watch  that  will  belate 
him. 

Two  years  ago,  when  all  the  papers  were  parading  Quay  aa  the 
man  who  would  knock  Harrison  out  and  put  Blaine  in,  The 
Globe  said  Mr.  Quay  may  make  it  look  as  if  he  were  working  for 
Blaine,  but  he  will  never  really  work  for  him.  My  reading  of  the 
Minneapolis  Convention  is  that  Quay  &  Co.  only  wanted  Mrst, 
to  divert  enough  votes  from  Harrison  to  make  his  nomina- 
tion impossible ;  Second,  to  show  Blaine  that  he  could  not  be 
nominated,  and  then  to  unite  the  Quay  and  Harrison  forces  on 
another  man.  Quay  was  beaten,  but  only  for  a  day ;  Blaine  was 
thrice  beaten,  and  forever ;  and  he  deserved  it. 


GLOBE  NOTES.  191 

I  think  that  spite  of  Harrison's  hearty  nomination,  Quay  could 
and  would  have  beaten  him  in  the  coming  contest,  and  that  with- 
out losing  his  hold  upon  the  vote  in  Pennsylvania,  if  he  had  so 
chosen,  or  if  Hill  had  been  friendly  to  Cleveland.  As  matters 
stand,  I  think  Quay  and  Hill  have  an  understanding,  based  on  the 
principles,  so-called,  of  mutual  protection,  and  that  Harrison  will 
be  given  New  York  and  Pennsylvania,  notwithstanding  Pattison's 
and  Hill's  recent  elections,  provided  Harrison  will  give  such 
pledges  this  time  as  will  allow  Quay  the  Pennsylvania  and  Hill 
the  proper  New  York  patronage  for  the  next  four  years.  I  think 
Harrison  has  already  pledged .  this.  Mr.  Peck's  early  September 
statistics  on  the  beauties  of  McKinleyism  prove  to  me  an  under- 
standing between  the  Quay  elements  in  Pennsylvania  and  the 
Hill  elements  in  New  York,  and  of  course  they  prove  afresh  what 
The  Globe  has  so  often  stated,  that  nothing  can  lie  like  statistics, 
except  perhaps,  our  modem  theories  of  astronomy.  Meanwhile,  I 
fancy  that  whichever  man  is  elected  President,  the  Postmaster- 
General — who  is  the  next  man  nearest  to  a  sort  of  national  repu- 
tation— will  soon  retire  to  private  life.  Nevertheless,  the  Keystone 
and  Spring  Garden  JBanks  of  the  future  will  not  be  wrecked  by 
the  old  methods.  While  the  slow  Government  experts  and  re- 
adjusters  are  trying  to  make  rules  and  banking  conditions  to  pre- 
vent stealings  by  the  old  methods,  the  real  wreckers — the  biggest 
of  whom  are  still  out  of  prison  and  unhung — are  already  prac- 
ticing new  methods  of  robbery,  and  the  Government  wiseacres 
will  again  be  caught  napping,  as  of  old. 

Poor  Blaine !  If  I  thought  he  were  half  as  sick  as  the  friends 
of  Harrison  represented  just  before  the  Presidential  nomination, 
I  would  hardly  say  a  word  that  might  worry  the  old  sinner  in 
his  declining  days.  But  the  dignity  and  importance  of  truth  are 
of  more  moment  than  the  fading  reputation  of  any  man.  Blaine 
was  never  anything  but  a  tricky,  mediocre  school-teacher,  gone 
into  politics  for  gain.  His  early  career  in  Augusta,  Maine,  dur- 
ing the  war,  where  bounty  moneys  were  freely  appropriated  to 
personal  ends,  was  enough  to  damn  any  public  man,  if  honesty 
were  any  longer  expected  of  such  men.  But  all  that  showed  no 
more  weakness  than  his  shilly-shally,  hide-and-seek,  petty  meth- 
ods touching  the  Presidency  during  these  last  ten  years.  The 
man  is  weaker  than  water.  Old  Simon  Cameron  was  a  political 
saint  beside  Blaine ;  but  the  Lord  deliver  us  from  such  saints  in 


192  THE  GLOBE. 

the  future!  Still  I  prefer  either  of  them  to  Wanamaker  and  the 
Sunday-school,  ultra-Sabbath  mockery,  and  modern  whining  Puri- 
tan crowd.  Yet  these  are  our  new  apostles — Simon,  James  and 
John.     Select  the  Judas  for  yourselves. 

In  truth.  President  Harrison's  desire  to  remain  in  oflBce  during 
the  next  four  years  amounts  almost  to  insanity ;  and  as  the  Tribune 
man  would  give  his  two  eyes  to  be  Vice-President — though  the 
office  is  a  hollow  mockery — and  as  the  Tribune  man  never  has 
stopped  and  never  will  stop  at  trifles  on  the  road  to  gain  his  end, 
and  as  both  these  men  know  perfectly  what  Wanamaker  and  Quay 
did  to  put  Harrison  in  power,  and  what  they  need  to  win  the  next 
election,  so-called,  Wanamaker  may  remain  in  office  and  Quay  get 
all  he  wants  this  time. 

Reid  and  Wanamaker  both  have  lots  of  money — and  it  is  all  they 
have — and  money  will  be  needed  and  used  in  the  approaching 
campaign,  just  as  freely  as  four  years  ago,  but  in  a  different  way. 
Party  trading  is  the  order  of  the  day  this  time.  Mr.  Harrity  and 
Mr.  Hensel  are  both  perfectly  familiar  with  this  business,  but  they 
are  not  the  bold,  aggressive  gentlemen  in  the  profession  that  Quay 
and  Reid  are. 

Many  people  think  that  Wanamaker  traded  himself  to  the  devil 
long  years  ago,  and  that  hundreds  of  gaunt  skeletons  of  God's 
eternal  justice  are  already  waiting  to  greet  him  on  the  farther  shore. 
Others  dream  that  hosts  of  angels  are  constantly  patting  him  on 
the  back  and  that  the  shrewd  shop-keeper  is  something  of  a  saint 
after  all.  The  judgment  will  decide  all  that.  Some  of  us  know  a 
great  deal  more  than  we  reveal  about  it.  But,  aside  from  the  gen- 
eral oil-and-water  mixture  of  the  man,  there  is  little  doubt  that  he 
traded  himself  to  Blaine  more  than  four  years  ago  in  Hamburg, 
when  it  looked  like  Blaine ;  there  is  scarcely  any  doubt  that  he 
traded  himself  to  Harrison,  through  Quay,  a  little  less  than  four 
years  ago,  and  that  the  new  firm  of  Reid,  Quay,  Wanamaker,  Clark- 
son  &  Co.,  having  brought  Harrison  to  a  sense  of  their  impor- 
tance, will,  if  needful,  trade  this  Republic  to  hell-fire — not  in  order 
to  make  Harrison  President — for  in  simple  truth  they  despise  the 
little  granddaddy — but  to  get  what  they  want  for  themselves  during 
the  next  four  years. 

Wanamaker  might  have  been  Governor  of  Pennsylvania  to-day, 
with  a  clean  sweep  on  the  inside  track  for  the  Presidency ;  but  in 
an  unfortunate  moment  he  tried  to  get  ideas  for  nothing  and  by 


GLOBE  NOTES.  193 

deception,  that  he  ought  to  have  sought  openly  and  have  been 
willing  to  pay  for.  He  did  not  get  them  till  his  chance  had  fled. 
As  a  shop-keeper  and  Sunday-school  superintendent — where  the 
mixture  of  kerosene  and  water  seems  to  be  a  shining  requisite — 
John  has  done  well;  but  as  a  Postmaster-General  he  has  been  a 
contemptible  and  pitiable  failure.  The  government  envelopes  and 
postage-stamps  cost  as  much  as  ever,  but  they  are  all  of  a  poorer 
quality  than  they  were  five  years  ago.  The  man  cannot  help  being 
shoddy;  he  was  bom  and  bred  that  way. 

He  began  his  public  career  by  a  tilt  with  the  Western  Union 
Telegraph  Company — meant  to  make  it  shoddy  too ;  but  now  that 
he  was  no  longer  hiring  women  and  children  and  manikin  slaves, 
his  shoddy  methods  failed,  and  he  was  ignominiously  defeated. 
Next  he  tried  to  break  up  the  lottery  business  by  a  system  of 
postal  espionage  and  by  special  legislation.  But  the  postal  espion- 
age is  a  far  greater  and  deeper  vice  than  the  lottery  business;  and 
as  long  as  so-called  free  and  intelligent  American  citizens  want  to 
invest  in  lotteries,  in  New  Orleans  or  in  Bethany  Sunday-school 
fairs,  they  will  do  it.  What  is  Wanamaker  himself  but  a  lottery  ? 
I  hate  and  despise  lotteries,  and  have  an  infinite  pity  and  contempt 
for  the  fools  gulled  by  them.  But  I  include  all  lotteries — the  Sun- 
day-school and  the  Wanamaker  species  no  less  than  the  New  Or- 
leans breed — and  I  consider  that  whole  postal  battle  an  expensive 
tyrannical,  dangerous  and  contemptible  failure. 

Then  Wanamaker  tried  to  pose  as  a  purifier  of  world-literature, 
and  protector  of  the  dear,  sweet  innocence  of  the  American 
masses,  by  shutting  out  Tolstoi's  book,  the  "Kreutzer  Sonata." 
The  result  was  that  thousands  of  the  books  sold  where  only  scores 
would  have  sold  if  Wanamaker  had  not  dabbled  in  the  sale. 
He  is  naturally  a  great  salesman,  and  in  this  instance  his  ability 
served  the  people  well,  for  Tolstoi's  book  taught  more  virtue  and 
truth  in  a  week  than  Wanamaker  has  taught  or  lived  in  a  life- 
time. So  the  good  God  makes  the  wrath  and  ignorance  of  official 
fools  to  praise  Him  and  the  remainder  thereof  doth  He  restrain. 

A  little  more  than  three  years  ago  Wanamaker  and  one  McKean 
of  Philadelphia  were  represented  as  booming  property  at  Cape 
May  Point,  by  giving  President  Harrison  a  house  there.  The  Pre- 
sident and  his  family  were  a  little  green  then,  and  did  not  know 
that  Cape  May  Point  was  simply  a  training-school  for  large-sized 
Jersey  mosquitoes.     However,  the  boom  came,  and  the  last  thing  I 


194  THE  GLOBE. 

heard  of  it  was  that  Wananiaker  was  selling  all  the  property  he 
had  there.  Again  I  say,  he  is  a  great  salesman;  he  can  sell  more 
shoddy  goods  in  a  day,  and  get  more  money  for  them — including 
"postage  stamps  and  petticoats" — than  any  other  man  in  the 
United  States,  but  as  a  public  man  he  is  too  pitiable  for  common 
respect.     We  shall  see. 

Of  the  present  phases  of  the  Labor  Question  I  almost  shrink 
from  speaking.  The  wholesale  robberies  and  oppressions  of  the 
tariff  barons  and  capitalists,  and  the  whole  millionfold  lyings  of 
McKinleyism  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  more  excusable  but  none 
the  less  fearful  blunders  and  crimes  of  organized  labor,  so-called, 
on  the  other — particularly  in  this  that  when  they,  the  laborers,  see 
fit  not  to  work  for  certain  wages  they  resolve  not  to  allow  other 
men  to  work  in  their  places  for  such  wages  or  for  any  wages  at 
all,  and  further  proceed  to  murder,  and  destroy  property  in  the  ex- 
ecution of  their  maddened  and  blundering  ideas — all  this  argues  a 
state  of  moral  degradation,  of  untaught  and  unteachable,  obtuse, 
selfish,  unprincipled,  so-called  civiUzation,  that  can  only  betoken 
more  fearful  times  ahead. 

Nearly  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  in  No.  6  of  The  Globe,  in  a 
review  of  Carnegie's  infamous  Gospel  of  Wealth,  I  predicted  that  in- 
side of  two  years  his  twaddle  of  human  brotherhood  in  the  A^orth 
American  Review,  and  his  so-called  benevolence  in  presenting  a 
public  library  to  the  people  of  Pittsburgh,  could  not  and  would  not 
hide  or  counteract  the  influence  of  the  fact  that  he  was  then  re- 
ducing the  wages  of  his  workmen  below  a  living  point,  and  schem- 
ing still  further  to  reduce  their  wages  in  order  to  gain  a  greater 
percentage  of  profit  for  himself  and  his  partners,  and  that  inside  of 
two  years  the  dumb,  suffering  workmen,  or  slaves,  of  his  establish- 
ments would  find  voice  and  action  that  would  reveal  the  tiny, 
small,  little,  selfish,  unprincipled,  grasping,  cruel  dimensions  of  this 
auto-hypocrite,  and  paint  him  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  on  a  canvas 
not  to  be  misunderstood.  I  even  then  had  piles  of  facts  back  of 
what  I  said. 

The  occurrences  at  Homestead,  during  the  past  few  months 
have  been,  so  to  speak,  a  fearful  fulfillment  of  The  Globe's 
predictions.  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory  in  any  cruelty  or  in 
any  wanton  destruction  of  life  or  property.  But  if  capitalists 
murder  justice,  labor  will  murder  capitalists  and  destroy    their 


GLOBE  NOTES.  195 

property  till  doomsday,  and  by  and  by  labor  will  get  at  your 
Major-Generals  and  Presidents  and  Kings.  I  am  not  hastening 
this  day.  Would  to  God  I  could  prevent  it.  My  poor  but  earnest 
words  are  meant  only  to  prevent  it  if  possible.  But  I  point  out 
to  you  the  only  possible  way. 

Wiseacre  men,  writing  for  the  popular  periodicals  and  the  news- 
papers, say  that  up  to  date  there  is  no  known  principle  of  solution 
for  the  difficulties  between  capital  and  labor ;  and  I  have  heard 
priests  and  preachers  and  big-class,  badge-wearing  reformers  ad- 
vocate Government  interference  to  fix  a  minimum  of  wages,  etc., 
and  generally  square  the  problem  by  legislation  done  by  a  lot 
of  fools  at  the  bidding  of  other  fools  and  knaves.  As  well  try  to 
keep  cattle  in  poor  pasture  by  fences  built  of  hay. 

Legislation  in  this  country  has  already  dabbled  ignorantly  and 
altogether  too  freely  with  the  relations  between  labor  and  capital, 
with  foreign  emigration,  and  with  a  score  of  matters  that  it  has 
neither  brains  to  understand  nor  power  to  control.  Above  all 
things  it  does  not  understand,  does  not  try  to  understand,  and 
has  not  power  to  control,  the  relations  existing  between  labor  and 
capital.  It  always  has  been  and  always  will  be  a  matter  to  be 
decided  between  individuals,  on  the  principles  of  common  equity, 
if  they  are  predominant  in  the  individuals  so  deciding ;  or  on  the 
principles  of  common  iniquity,  if  they  are  the  principles  predomi- 
nant in  the  individuals  so  deciding ;  and  just  exactly  as  the  prin- 
ciples of  common  equity  prevail,  in  all  such  engagements,  just  so 
exactly  will  peace  and  prosperity  and  satisfaction  and  mutual 
trust  and  respect  prevail  between  the  contracting  parties ;  and 
just  exactly  as  the  principles  of  common  injustice,  the  principles 
of  iniquity,  lying,  deception,  and  the  taking  of  undue  advantage 
prevail  between  the  contracting  parties  of  capital  and  labor,  in 
any  and  all  spheres,  just  so  exactly  will  there  be  distrust,  confusion, 
dissatisfaction,  mutual  hatred,  capital  combines  to  defeat  labor, 
and  labor  organizations  to  defeat  capital  combines,  strikes,  mad- 
ness, bloodshed  and  death.  Yet  you  say  you  have  no  principles 
of  solution  for  the  Homestead  and  other  similar  troubles  the  world 
over  in  these  days;  and  you  think  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
obsolete,  and  the  Gospel  needless,  and  the  Church  a  sham.  I  tell 
you  that  only  as  you  learn  and  practice  the  simple  teachings  of 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount — Carnegie,  Wanamaker,  Blaine  et  al. — 
can  you  escape  the  damnations  of  Homestead,  Bufl'alo,  Coal  Creek, 


196  THE  GLOBE. 

Arizona,  and  a  thousand  other  damnations,  even  now  creeping 
like  demons  at  your  feet,  and  soon  to  grasp  your  throats  ;  that  is, 
the  real  damnations  of  hell. 

Seek  elsewhere  for  a  solution  as  long  as  you  please,  and  when 
you  are  in  the  throes  of  the  world's  great  judgment-day  of  revolu- 
tion, so  near  at  hand,  and  when  from  your  capitalists'  combines 
and  from  labor  organizations  alike,  you  are  calling  upon  the  rocks 
to  fall  upon  you,  and  the  seas  to  cover  you  from  the  fratricidal, 
parricidal,  and  suicidal,  and  national  and  international  crime  and 
darkness  around  you,  look  to  me  again  and  I  will  "tell  you  the 
same  story  the  prophets,  the  Saviour,  and  the  saints  told  you  ages 
ago ;  but  then  it  will  be  too  late  for  you,  though  not  for  your  chil- 
dren who  may,  perhaps,  learn  the  value  of  truth  through  the 
blood  and  misery  of  the  war  of  lies  so  near  at  hand. 

If  Carnegie  &  Co.  had  made  me  arbitrator  of  the  difficulties 
between  themselves  and  their  employes,  I  would  have  settled  it 
in  twenty-four  hours,  simply  by  preaching,  not  the  Gospel  of 
Wealth,  but  the  Gospel  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  Mr.  Carnegie, 
alone,  without  seeing  any  one  of  the  men  instrumental  in  foment- 
ing the  strike,  and  the  fearful  consequences  of  the  same ;  but  the 
modern  pulpit  is  so  generally  sold  to  wealth  and  filled  with 
trembling  mediocre,  cowardly  men,  that  a  rich  man  these  days 
thinks  he  has  little  to  do  with  preachers  or  prophets  but  to  make 
them  presents  and  treat  them  to  cigars.  I  give  you  about  ten 
years  more  to  run  things  on  the  principles  of  so-called  modern 
political  and  industrial  economy. 

We  have  only  space  in  this  issue  to  say  farewell  to  the  beautiful 
spirit  of  Whittier  and  the  generous  heart  of  Daniel  Dougherty. 

While  this  number  has  been  going  through  the  press,  I  have 
received  and  accepted  propositions  looking  toward  a  removal  of 
The  Globe  to  Chicago.  From  this  date  it  will  be  published  by 
The  Globe  Review  Company;  our  address  will  be  716  Title  and 
Trust  Building,  Chicago,  111.,  and  I  hope  that  all  readers  of  this 
issue  will  be  prompt  and  generous  in  forwarding  their  subscriptions. 

W.  H.  Thorne, 

The  Globe  Review,  716  Title  and  Trust  Building,  Chicago,  111. 


THE     GLOBE. 

NO.  XI. 


JANUARY  TO  APRIL,  1893. 


THE  STUPIDEST  MAN  ON  EARTH. 


Wanamaker  as  a  Philosopher.  How  a  Pious  Deacon 
Played  Whist  with  the  Devil  and  was  Beaten  at  His 
Own  Game.  The  Downfall  of  Republicanism.  Will 
THE  Democrats  Stand  on  Their  Feet  or  Their  Heads? 

The  Chicago  Herald  never  said  a  truer  thing  than  in  its 
editorial  of  Friday,  November  11,  1892,  when  it  spoke  of  John 
Wanamaker  as  the  stupidest  man  in  the  Republican  party.  As 
a  slave-whip  there  is  considerable  crack  to  Wanamaker.  He  can 
even  make  a  good  speech  to  a  Sunday-school,  provided  you  never 
examine  what  he  says.  He  acts  as  a  capital  chaperon  to  the  wives 
of  other  politicians  less  or  more  favored  than  himself,  and,  as  I 
have  said  now  and  again  in  The  Globe,  he  is  the  smartest  salesman 
of  shoddy  goods  to  be  found  this  side  of  those  famous  seance 
cabinets,  the  mountains  of  the  moon.  Why  are  there  not  mount- 
ains in  the  moon?  I  do  not  know.  I  never  was  there.  Ask 
Wanamaker,  and  though  he  never  read  a  scientific  book  in  all  his 
industrious  life,  and  would  never  have  understood  it  if  he  had 
read  it,  he  will  pose  like  a  wise  man — of  the  Philadelphia  school, 
of  course — and  reply  that  if  the  foreign  citizens  of  the  United 
States  should  say  there  were  no  mountains  in  the  moon,  that  would 
be  a  sufficient  scientific  reason  for  concluding  that  the  moon  was 
as  full  of  mountains  as  the  Wanamaker  establishments  are  sure  to 
be  full  of  shoddy  and  sham.  He  is  dreadfully  afflicted  with 
foreignphobia. 


198  THE  GLOBE. 

It  was  this  sort  of  "Wana'maker  logic  and  philosophy  that  made 
the  Chicago  Herald  man  so  wise.  Eight  years  ago  the  lion. 
Matthew  Stanley  Quay,  M.  C,  gave  it  as  his  deliberate  conclusion 
that  the  Republicans  lost  the  elections  because  they  had  not  enough 
votes  to  win  them.  That  was  plain,  honest  horse-sense,  and  did 
credit  to  the  practical  philosopher  of  the  Keystone  State.  Four 
years  ago  Mr.  Quay  had  procured  an  introduction  to  Wanamaker, 
through  Blaine,  and  the  two  together  concluded  that  the  way  to 
get  enough  votes  that  time  was  to  buy  them .  We  all  know  who 
put  up  the  money,  as  Mr.  MacVeagh  said  in  his  speech  in  Chicago; 
and  we  all  know  who  did  the  trading,  and  what  was  the  result. 
Last  fall  these  same  traders  were  caught  in  the  act  and  discharged. 

But,  the  reader  may  be  querying,  if  Wanamaker  was  smart 
enough  to  play  first  assistant  buyer  for  Quay  &  Co.,  and  to  figure 
as  the  great  tradesman  of  the  commerce  of  the  White  House,  how 
can  you  call  him  the  stupidest  man  on  earth? 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  over  fifty  years  of  experience  have  taught 
me  the  truth  of  my  good  old  father's  favorite  saying:  ^'The  fool 
and  his  penny  are  soon  parted."  Lots  of  very  stupid  men  are  even 
making  money  in  our  day,  not  to  speak  of  the  fools  who  are  spend- 
ing it .  Wanamaker  has  "  made  '^  lots  of  it ;  that  is,  he  has  wrung 
it  out  of  the  dying  heart's  blood  of  the  poor.  Above  all,  lots  of 
stupid  people  of  both  sexes  in  these  days  are  spending  money  and 
making  sharp  bargains,  spending  other  people's  money,  too.  It  is 
in  fact  a  dreadfully  easy  thing  to  spend  other  people's  money, 
and  just  in  that  way  was  Harrison's  election  bought  in  1888.  Lots 
of  fools  could  have  done  it,  if  they  had  only  been  scoundrels 
enough.  Wanamaker,  Quay  &  Co.  combined  both  graces,  and  so 
found  all  the  votes  they  needed;  but  did  it  pay? 

The  right  smart  trader  is  the  man  who  makes  both  ends  meet, 
and  a  little  more.  All  Wanamaker  knows,  ever  knew,  or  will  know 
is  to  make  money.  Has  he  made  money  for  himself  or  the  govern- 
ment out  of  his  cabinet  position  the  last  four  years  ? 

It  is  generally  understood  that  this  pious  Philadelphia  deacon 
paid  a  round  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  his  cabinet  position. 
His  salary  per  year  the  last  four  years  has  been  $25,000,  a  more 
rascally  waste  than  in  the  most  useless  pensions  ever  paid.  Still, 
by  the  ordinary  methods  of  arithmetic,  that  would  just  about 
make  ends  meet,  but  not  to  Wanamaker's  credit — not  one  cent. 
And  when  you  add  to  the  $100,000  said  to  have  been  paid  for  the 


TEE  STUPIDEST  MAN  ON  EARTH.  199 

postmastersliip  the  many  taxes  that  politicians  are  not  only  liable 
to,  but  obliged  to  meet,  plus  a  good  625,000  to  help  elect  Harrieon 
a  second  term  and  keep  in  with  the  Republican  gang,  you  see 
that  the  famous  shopkeeper  of  Philadelphia  has  simply  been 
gambling  with  hell  and  has  fallen  in,  as  he  deserved. 

In  exposing  Wanamaker's  business  methods  four  years  ago  the 
New  York  papers  showed  pretty  plainly  that  he  had  the  most  exten- 
sive plans  laid  all  over  the  United  States  to  use  the  exceptional 
advantages  of  his  postal  position  to  further  all  the  branches  of  his 
retail  trade;  of  course  John  blamed  it  on  his  more  pious  brother 
William,  and  William  blamed  it  on  some  clerk,  and  so  the  matter 
was  hushed  up,  precisely  as  later  on  Wanamaker's  relations  with 
the  Keystone  Bank  robbery  were  hushed  up,  on  the  pious  promise 
that  the  rascals  would  never  do  so  again. 

I  am  not  speaking  of  the  private  lives  or  characters  of  these 
men,  but  of  their  public  and  official  careers,  and  spite  of  all  the 
subterfuges  resorted  to,  such  as  silencing  the  Philadelphia  news- 
papers by  liberally  advertising  in  them,  and  spite  of  all  the 
acknowledged  stupid  man's  ability  for  making  money,  I  calculate 
that  Wanamaker's  public  career  has  lost  him  or  cost  him  from  two 
to  three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Besides  this  it  has  cost  him 
the  exposure  of  those  contemptible  and  pitiable  qualities  of  the 
hypocrite  and  brought  upon  him  the  consequent  and  merited  exe- 
crations of  all  honorable  men .  This  is  what  I  call  playing  whist 
with  the  devil  and  getting  beaten. 

Do  you  wonder  that  Wanamaker,  when  asked  to  explain  what 
lost  the  Republicans  the  election  of  18i*2,  went  on  to  say  that  the 
foreign  elements  in  New  York  and  Chicago  did  it?  And  further, 
"I  cannot  believe  that  our  people  will  ever  surrender  the  theory 
or  practice  of  protection."  "Our  people!"  Think  of  this  mere 
beaver-smart  shopkeeper  talking  of  "our  people"  as  if  he  owned 
us  all!  And  '^protection"  of  what?  Simply  "protection"  to  and 
for  such  ignorant  gentlemen  as  Wanamaker  &  Co. 

When  I  first  landed  in  Philadelphia,  in  1855,  the  Delaware 
river  from  the  wharves  of  Kensington  to  the  beautiful  waters  of 
Delaware  bay  was  lined  with  the  ships  of  an  old  established  com- 
merce. For  the  last  forty  years  such  half-taught  stupidities  as 
ex-Pig-Iron  Kelly  and  our  almost  ex-Postmaster-General  have 
been  schooling  Philadelphia  and  Pennsylvania  into  a  belief  in  the 
absurd  lies  of  tariff  protection  ;  and  with  what  result? 


200  HIE  GLOBE. 

To-day,  while  the  general  growth  of  the  American  nation  has 
been  without  a  parallel  in  all  human  history,  the  commerce  of 
Philadelphia  and  the  Delaware  river  is  simply  a  by-word  for  the 
laughter  of  fools.  For  a  while  certain  iron  and  coal  interests  in 
these  centers,  protected,  so  as  to  enrich  their  owners  and  at  the 
same  time  impoverish  and  debase  their  operatives,  prospered,  and 
a  few  men  grew  rich,  while  the  beautiful  and  favored  city  of  Penn 
and  the  deep  and  beautiful  Delaware  river  have  lost  pace  with 
mere  snails,  have  became  practically  deserted  of  brains  and 
of  progress,  have  fallen  in  the  rear  of  all  civilization,  and  are  now 
practically  content  to  be  dominated  and  taught  and  led,  like 
Siberian  slaves,  to  cheap  and  shoddy  markets  by  such  unstriped- 
robed  clowns  as  Wanamaker,  Quay  &  Co.  And  this  is  '*  protection," 
and  this  is  what  "  our  people  "  are  bound  not  to  give  up.  Stuff 
and  nonsense!     Our  people  have  given  it  up. 

Seventy-five  years  ago  Philadelphia  was  a  rich  and  prosperous 
city  while  yet  the  Chicago  river  was  left  to  its  musk-rats  and  a 
stray  Indian  here  and  there.  To-day  Chicago  has  three  beautiful 
residences  to  every  one  in  Philadelphia,  has  three  or  four  hundred 
thousand  more  inhabitants,  has  brain  power  enough  to  cough  up 
Wanamakers  by  the  million  ;  and,  for  all  its  putrid  corruptions, 
has  in  it  thousands  of  souls  who  could  give  Wanamaker  first  les- 
sons in  piety,  morals  and  trade,  and  make  a  man  of  the  wind- 
blown, over-advertised,  uncultured  trader,  even  yet,  were  he  only 
willing  to  be  taught  the  true  meanings  of  human  trade  and 
human  brotherhood. 

Protection,  as  preached  by  Kelly  and  Wanamaker,  has  always 
meant  simply  the  protection  of  knaves,  and  the  people  of  all 
races,  politics  and  sections  of  this  country  have  grown  just  a  little 
tired  of  this  dominion  of  a  mere  upstart,  political  crew. 

And  that,  Mr.  Wanamaker,  and  good  friends  everywhere,  is 
the  meaning  of  the  recent  elections. 

The  victory  does  not  mean  that  the  people  have  faith  in  the 
Democratic  party — not  yet.  It  simply  means  that  the  people, 
without  regard  to  race  or  section,  have  ceased  to  have  any  respect 
for,  or  faith  or  confidence  in,  such  chaps  as  Wanamaker  &  Co. 

In  my  experience  and  travels  for  over  fifty  years  I  have  met 
thousands  of  foreigners,  any  one  of  whom — from  the  archbishops 
of  the  church  to  the  skilled  foreign  mechanics  who  have  taught 
Americans  all  the  skill  they  know — had  more  creative,  useful  and 


THE  STUPIDEST  MAN  ON  EARTH.  201 

lielpful  brain  power,  as  needed  in  the  development  of  this  great 
nation,  than  a  half  a  dozen  such  smart  traders  as  this  puffed-up, 
over-rated,  shoddy  deacon  from  Philadelphia.  Verily  the  Herald 
was  right  when  it  called  Wanamaker  the  stupidest  man  of  the 
once  honorable  and  useful  Republican  party. 

As  I  have  pointed  out  again  and  again  in  The  Globe,  we  were  all 
foreigners  a  few  years  ago,  and  the  only  natives  here  were  the  more 
or  less  noble,  but  not  very  industrious  red  men.  In  fad,  foreign- 
ers, from  Christopher  Columbus  to  William  Penn,  to  Alexander 
Hamilton,  to  Phil.  Sheridan,  to  the  humblest  Irish  Catholic  priest 
in  this  great  and  marvelous  age  of  sin,  have  made  this  nation  what 
it  is  to-day. 

Eecently  a  precocious  child  in  Chicago  remarked  that  the  mean- 
ing of  "  Yankee  "  was  a  person  born  without  the  consent  of  his  or 
her  parents.  There  is  a  fearful  truth  underlying  this  wit,  and 
perhaps  the  child's  saying  explains  alike  Wanamaker's  dislike  of 
foreigners  and  the  everywhere  -  acknowledged  unfilial  attitude 
of  Yankee  children  toward  their  parents.  In  a  word,  lack  of 
parental  respect  and  lack  of  respect  for  foreigners  are  akin;  they 
are  both,  alike,  a  reversion  of  the  old  laws  of  parental  worship, 
and  of  hospitality,  and  are  to  my  mind  the  deepest  signs  of  the 
fixed  immoral  and  hellish  tendenciesof  what  we  call  **our  people" 
and  "our  civilization." 

But  when  AVanamaker  has  sold  himself  to  such  masters  as 
Quay,  and  put  himself  under  the  tuition  of  such  teachers  as  the  gen- 
tleman of  the  White  House,  who  has  long  been  keeping  school  in 
his  grandfather's  hat — in  the  name  of  the  simplest  principles  of 
logic  and  mathematics,  what  can  you  expect  but  undying 
stupidity?  The  postmaster-general's  last  annual  report  was  a  right 
smart  paper,  showing  among  other  things  that  some  of  Mr. 
Wanamaker's  subordinates  are  hard  workers  and  good  writers. 
But  this  famous  shopman  was  always  noted  for  getting  good 
assistants,  for  pocketing  the  reputation  they  made  him  and  giv- 
ing them  as  little  recognition  and  as  small  wages  as  possible.  No 
wonder  there  has  been  a  show  of  saving  during  the  Wanamaker 
term  of  office.  The  man  would  scrape  a  flint  to  save  paying  full 
price  for  a  brimstone  match.  But  for  all  this  he  cannot  hide  his 
unutterable  stupidity. 


202  THE  GLOBE. 

**Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new."  But  what  will  the  new 
men  do?  From  the  days  of  James  Buchanan  to  the  last  speeches 
of  our  now  honored  Vice-President-elect  Stevenson,  the  Democrats 
of  this  nation  have  been  far  more  famous  for  the  sublime"  oppor- 
tunities they  have  spit  upon,  trampled  under  their  feet  and 
neglected  than  for  any  opportune  legislation  or  heroic  party  or 
national  action  that  they  have  accomplished. 

Political  corruption  and  stupidity  were  never  the  exclusive 
properties  of  the  Eepublican  party.  Mere  sand-lot  hoodlumism 
will  not  make  Mr.  Cleveland's  administration  a  shining  success. 
All  that  will  now  be  said  about  the  handsome  and  amiable  Mrs. 
Cleveland  and  her  baby  could  well  be  spared  out  of  the  history  of 
the  next  four  years.  Mere  rum -shop  democratic  bummers  need 
not  feel  that  this  is  their  victory,  and  that  now  they  are  to  step  in 
and  shout  and  yell  this  nation  into  a  new  career  of  glory. 

One  evening  last  November,  as  I  was  strolling,  in  company  with 
an  excellent  Democratic  gentleman,  along  West  Jackson  boulevard, 
Chicago,  a  handsome  open  carriage,  full  of  noisy,  drunken 
young  Democrats,  went  rolling  down  the  smooth  street,  and  out  on 
the  still  air  floated  the  shoutings  of  these  Democratic  victors, 
insulting  all  the  pedestrians  they  passed,  or  trying  to  insult  them, 
with  the  hope,  of  course,  of  especially  insulting  any  stray  Repub- 
lican that  chanced  to  be  on  the  streets. 

Among  other  of  their  leerings  and  jeerings  I  noticed  this  : 
"What's  the  matter  with  Stevenson?  He's  all  right!"  Poor 
clowns!  Do  they  expect  Democracy  to  triumph  by  such  drunken 
shows  ? 

I  consider  Mr.  Cleveland's  letter  and  speech  just  before  the  cam- 
paign of  four  years  ago  the  ablest,  the  most  statesmanlike  utter- 
ances this  nation  has  heard  since  the  days  of  our  old  colonial  gov- 
ernment, or  at  least  since  the  days  of  Washington,  and  if  the 
Democratic  party  will  adhere  to  that,  live  up  to  it,  legislate  in  its 
spirit  and  send  the  McKinley  Bill  and  all  it  stands  for  to  everlast- 
ing Hades  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  it  from  holding  the  reins  of 
power  in  this  nation  for  the  next  one  hundred  years. 

But  if  this  Democratic  party,  moved  by  rum-shop  or  other  simi- 
lar influences,  merely  stands  upon  its  head  and  kicks  its  heels  in 
the  air  and  brandishes  its  shillaly  of  triumph  and  does  nothing 
worthy  of  its  opportunity,  why  Mr.  Hill  will  not  get  the  portion  he 


ISABELLA,  THE   WOMAN  AND  QUEEN.  203 

has  bargained  for  and  the  Democrats,  four  years  hence,  will  have 
to  eat  precisely  the  same  sort  of  old  black  crow  the  Republicans  are 
now  expecting  to  live  upon. 

I  wish  them  all  the  grace  and  wisdom  they  need  and  all  the  suc- 
cess they  may  deserve.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


ISABELLA,  THE  WOMAN  AND  QUEEN. 


The  nineteenth  century  has  been  called  the  Age  of  Woman. 
Yet  the  nineteenth  century  has  no  Isabella. 

^sop's  fly  perched  on  the  axle  of  the  wheel  and  exclaiming 
exultantly,  "  What  a  dust  I  do  raise  ! "  is  only  the  symbol  of  a 
c|uite  universal  weakness.  The  present  age  always  seems  the  most 
glorious  age,  its  progress  the  most  wonderful  progress,  and  its 
importance  far  greater  than  the  importance  of  any  that  have  pre- 
ceded it.  So  in  the  glamour  of  this  delusion  we  almost  forget  that 
Woman  was  a  power  morally,  socially,  and  intellectually  in  the  fif- 
teenth century  as  in  the  nineteenth,  that  the  doors  of  universities 
were  open  to  her,  that  she  not  only  studied  but  actually  taught 
within  their  sacred  precincts.*  In  the  university  of  Salamanca 
she  had  a  place,  and  when  Isabella,  on  ascending  the  throne,  set 
about  the  acquisition  of  the  Latin  tongue,  it  was  to  a  woman  that 
she  turned  to  be  her  tutor.  Nay,  we  can  go  farther  back  than  the 
fifteenth  century  and  to  other  parts  of  the  world  than  Spain.  In 
Italy  in  the  thirteenth  century  a  noble  Florentine  lady  contended 
for  and  won  the  palm  of  oratory  in  a  public  contest  in  that  city 
with  learned  doctors  from  all  over  the  world.  Farther  back  still, 
in  the  fourth  century,  St.  Catherine  of  Alexandria,  standing 
in  the  great  hall  of  the  royal  palace  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor 
and  assembled  notables  of  his  kingdom,  converted  by  her  learning 
and  her  wisdom  the  forty  venerable  philosophers  arrayed  against 
her.  Plato  and  Socrates  this  modest  Christian  maiden  could  quote 
and  she  knew  by  heart  the  Books  of  the  Sibyls. 

The  Age  of  Woman  dates  not  from  the  nineteenth  century,  but 
from  the  first ;  is  due  not  to  modern   civilization,  not  to  modern 
progress,  but  to  something  grander  than  either — the  mainspring 
of  both — the  religion  of  Christ  and  of  his  Church. 
*Pre6cott— Ferd.  acd  Isabella.    Vol.  II.,  Page  197. 


204  THE  GLOBE. 

The  greatness  of  Isabella  need  not,  therefore,  be  looked  upon 
as  something  extraordinar}'  and  unaccountable.  She  was  merely 
the  logical  outcome  of  the  country  in  which  she  was  born,  and  the 
religion  in  which  she  was  bred — Catholic  Spain  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  life  of  Isabella  might  be  set  forth  in  two  fashions — 
with  the  mathematical  accuracy  of  the  historian,  every  date  with 
its  accompanying  event  and  every  event  with  its  underlying  sig- 
nificance ;  or  in  the  manner  of  the  artist,  by  a  series  of  pictures, 
more  or  less  vivid,  as  skill  and  circumstances  permit.  The  latter 
will  doubtless  prove  the  more  interesting. 

To  the  ambitious  biographer  there  is  nothing  more  distressing 
than  to  find  that  the  most  important  events  of  life  must  be  told  in 
a  bald  and  commonplace  manner.  To  be  born !  there  is  nothing 
more  wonderful,  and  yet  when  one  says  that  the  wee  Castilian  maid, 
afterwards  to  be  dignified  by  the  title  of  Isabella  the  Catholic,  was 
born  at  Madrigal  on  a  spring  morning  in  1451,  one  feels  that  an 
event  of  such  importance  should  scarcely  be  dismissed  with  such 
brevity — an  event  that  affected  the  destiny  of  Castile,  of  Europe, 
and  of  the  undiscovered  America. 

Isabella's  father,  a  mild-mannered  prince  more  fond  of  letters 
than  of  statecraft,  died  when  she  was  but  four  years  old,  lamenting 
that  he  had  not  been  born  the  son  of  a  mechanic  instead  of  King 
of  Castile.  He  had  been  twice  married  and  had  had  by  his  first  wife 
one  child,  a  son,  who  succeeded  him,  and  by  his  second  two  children, 
Isabella  and  the  infant  Alonso  who  in  his  fifteen  years  of  life  gave 
promise  of  a  noble  future. 

To  understand  the  character  of  Isabella  it  is  necessary  to  at 
least  outline  the  political  condition  of  the  country  in  which  she 
lived.  Spain  in  the  fifteenth  century  was  not  one  of  the  great  powers 
of  Europe.  It  was  divided  into  petty  states  of  which  Navarre, 
Aragon  and  Castile  were  the  most  important.  Overrun  by  the 
Moors  and  tyrannized  by  numerous  factions  of  the  nobility,  it  was 
no  wonder  that  Spain  seemed  to  many  a  desolated  country. 
"What  is  the  use  of  building  castles  in  Spain  when  one  must  live 
in  France?  "  wrote  St.  Francis  de  Sales  to  a  lady  of  his  acquaint- 
ance, because,  says  the  biographer,  "  there  were  no  castles  in  Spain 
in  those  days.'*  And  yet  there  was  a  spirit  of  freedom  and  of 
Democracy  among  its  people  which  no  other  country  of  Europe 
could  match.  "We  who  are  each  of  us  as  good  as  you,"  ran  the 
oath  of  allegiance  taken  by  the  Spanish  Cortes  to  a  new  king, 


ISABELLA,  THE  WOMAN  AND  QUEEN.  206 

*'and  who  are  altogether  more  powerful  than  you,  promise  obedience 
to  your  government  if  you  maintain  our  rights  and  liberties,  but 
not  otherwise." 

It  was  over  this  people  that  Isabella  was  to  reign.  The  court 
of  her  brother,  King  Henry  of  Castile,  was  a  debauched  one,  the 
king  himself  a  coward  and  worse,  who  drained  the  already  meagre 
royal  treasury  by  his  luxury  and  extravagances.  Fortunately  for 
Isabella,  her  youth  was  not  destined  to  be  spent  amid  the  glitter 
and  frivolity  of  the  court.  Until  tlie  age  of  sixteen  she  lived  in 
retirement  in  the  little  town  of  Arevalo  under  the  care  of  her 
mother.  Her  hand  was  first  solicited  for  that  very  Ferdinand  of 
Aragon  who  was  destined  to  be  her  future  husband,  though  not 
until  after  many  vicissitudes.  She  was  next  betrothed  to  his  elder 
brother  Carlos  and  on  his  decease  was  promised  by  King  Henry  to 
Alfonso  of  Portugal.  Isabella  was  present  with  her  brother  at  a 
personal  interview  with  that  monarch,  but  neither  threats  nor 
entreaties  could  induce  her  to  accede  to  a  union  so  unsuitable 
from  the  disparity  of  their  years.  The  Marquis  of  Calatrava,  a 
powerful  but  fierce  and  licentious  nobleman,  next  pressed  his 
claim,  whereupon  Isabella  shut  herself  up  in  her  room  and  abstain- 
ing from  food  and  sleep  implored  Heaven  to  save  her  from  the 
dishonor  of  such  a  union  by  her  own  death  if  need  be,  or  by  that 
of  her  enemy.  Her  prayer  was  answered.  All  the  preparations 
for  the  wedding  had  been  made,  the  marquis  was  on  his  way  to 
Madrid  where  the  ceremony  was  to  be  performed,  when  on  the 
second  day  of  his  journey  he  was  stricken  with  an  illness  which 
shortly  terminated  his  life. 

Among  other  suitors  for  Isabella  were  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
infamous  forever  under  the  title  of  Kichard  III.,  and  the  Duke  of 
Guienne,  brother  of  Louis  XI.  of  France.  They  wore  all  of  them 
unsuccessful.  For  once,  old  heads  and  young  hearts  were  in 
unison.  Statecraft  as  well  as  youthful  preference  pointed  to 
Ferdinand  of  Aragon.  The  superior  advantages  of  a  connection 
which  should  be  the  means  of  uniting  the  people  of  Aragon  and 
Castile  were  indeed  manifest.  Yet  Isabella  was  too  true  a  woman 
to  be  moved  to  so  important  a  step  by  purely  political  reasons. 
She  dispatched  her  chaplain  to  the  courts  of  France  and  Aragon, 
and  when  he  returned  with  the  report  that  the  Duke  of  Guienne 
was  a  feeble,  effeminate,  watery-eyed  prince,  and  that  Ferdinand, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  possessed  of  a  comely  figure,  a  graceful 

2 


206  THE  OLOBE. 

demeanor  and  a  spirit  that  was  up  to  anything,  Isabella  was  not 
slow  to  decide. 

She  resolved  to  give  her  hand  where  she  felt  that  she  could 
give  her  heart.  Owing  to  the  intrigues  of  King  Henry  and  his 
persistent  efforts  to  thwart  the  marriage,  the  lovers  were  obliged 
to  resort  to  subterfuge.  Disguised  as  a  mule-driver  Ferdinand 
set  out  at  dead  of  night  from  the  court  of  Aragon  accompanied  by 
a  half  dozen  of  his  followers,  supposed  to  be  merchants,  while  to 
divert  the  attention  of  the  Castilians,  another  cavalcade  proceeded 
in  a  different  direction  with  all  the  ostentation  of  a  public  embassy 
from  the  court  of  Aragon  to  King  Henry.  Ferdinand  waited  on 
the  table,  took  care  of  the  mules  and  in  every  way  acted  as  servant 
to  his  companions.  In  this  guise,  with  no  other  disaster  save  that 
of  leaving  at  an  inn  the  purse  which  contained  the  funds  for  the 
expedition,  Ferdinand  arrived  late  at  night  at  one  of  Isabella's 
strongholds,  cold,  faint  and  exhausted.  On  knocking  at  the  gate, 
the  travelers  were  saluted  with  a  large  stone  rolled  down  from  the 
battlements  which  came  within  a  few  inches  of  Ferdinand's  head 
and  would  doubtless  have  put  an  end  once  and  for  all  to  his  roman- 
tic enterprise.  Expostulations  were  followed  by  explanations;  when 
the  voice  of  the  prince  was  recognized  by  friends  within  great 
was  the  rejoicing,  and  trumpets  proclaimed  the  arrival  of  the 
adventurous  bridegroom.  Arrangements  were  at  once  made  for  a 
meeting  between  the  royal  pair.  Ferdinand,  accompanied  by  only 
four  of  his  attendants,  was  admitted  into  the  neighboring  city  of 
Valladolid  where  he  was  received  by  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo  and 
conducted  to  the  apartment  of  his  mistress.  Courtly  parasites  had 
urged  Isabella  to  require  some  act  of  homage  from  Ferdinand  in 
token  of  the  inferiority  of  the  crown  of  Aragon  to  that  of  Castile, 
but  with  true  womanly  dignity  she  refused  to  do  so.  She  never 
forgot  that  she  was  a  woman,  even  though  a  queen,  and  would  not 
allow  a  sign  of  inferiority  from  one  who  was  to  be  her  husband. 

The  interview  lasted  two  hours.  Ferdinand  was  at  this  time 
eighteen  years  of  age,  Isabella  a  year  older.  His  complexion  was 
fair,  though  bronzed  by  constant  exposure  to  the  sun;  his  eye  quick 
and  bright,  his  forehead  ample  and  inclining  to  baldness.  He  was 
active  of  frame,  vigorous  of  muscle,  invigorated  by  the  toils  of  war 
and  exercises  of  chivalry,  and  one  of  the  best  horsemen  in  the 
kingdom.     His  voice  was  sharp  and  decisive  save  when  he  wished 


ISABELLA.  THE  WOMAN  AND  QUEEN.  207 

to  carry  a  point,  then  his  manners  were  courteous,  even  insinuat- 
ing. 

Isabella  was  a  little  above  the  middle  size,  her  blue  eyes  beamed 
with  intelligence,  her  hair  was  light,  inclining  to  red,  her  manners 
dignified  and  modest. 

The  preliminaries  of  the  marriage  were  adjusted,  but  so  great 
was  the  poverty  of  the  parties  that  they  had  to  borrow  money  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  ceremony.  But  in  spite  of  all  opposi- 
tion, in  spite  of  such  humiliating  obstacles,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
were  married  on  Oct.  19,  1469,  in  the  presence  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Toledo,  the  admiral  of  Castile  and  all  of  the  nobility  that 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  youthful  pair. 

The  first  few  years  of  married  life  were  uneventful,  but  on  the 
death  of  the  king  in  1474  and  the  accession  of  Ferdinand  and  Isa- 
bella the  country  was  at  once  plunged  into  the  War  of  the  Succes- 
sion. The  royal  pair  had  refused  from  the  beginning  to  be  put  in 
leading  strings  by  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  and  the  haughty  prel- 
ate, disgusted  with  treatment  to  which  he  had  not  been  accustomed, 
withdrew  from  their  court  and  espoused  the  cause  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Joanna,  boasting  that  ''  he  had  raised  Isabella  from  the  dis- 
taff and  he  would  send  her  back  to  it  again."  The  death  of  the 
King  of  Aragon  at  this  time  called  Ferdinand  to  the  throne,  thus 
practically  uniting  the  two  crowns.  It  Avould  be  useless  to  dwell 
upon  this  long  and  stormy  period.  At  one  time  indeed  all  parties 
were  so  worn  out  by  the  war  that  the  King  of  Portugal,  who  had 
been  affianced  to  Joanna,  offered  to  resign  all  claims  to  the  crown 
of  Castile  upon  the  cession  of  certain  provinces.  Ferdinand  and 
his  ministers  were  willing  to  accede  to  his  proposal,  but  Isabella 
proudly  replied  that  ''she  would  not  consent  to  the  dismemberment 
of  a  single  inch  of  Castile."  After  a  struggle  of  nearly  five  years, 
a  treaty  was  at  last  arranged,  the  King  of  Portugal  resigned  his  pre- 
tentions to  the  throne,  Joanna  entered  a  convent  and  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  relieved  from  the  pretentions  of  ambitious  rivals,  were 
allowed  to  turn  their  attention  to  the  internal  welfare  of  their 
kingdom. 

One  of  their  first  acts  was  to  reform  the  laws,  to  prohibit  the 
adulteration  of  money  and  to  gradually  lessen  the  overbearing 
power  of  the  nobility  by  the  elevation  of  the  Cortes.  On  certain 
days  of  the  week  the  king  and  queen  presided  personally  at  the 
court  of  justice,  and  so  prompt  and  so  just   were  their  decisions 


208  THE  GLOBE. 

that  it  came  to  be  said  that  it  was  more  difficult  and  more  costly 
to  transact  business  with  a  stripling  of  a  secretary  than  with  the 
queen  and  all  her  ministers. 

There  are  many  stories  told  of  Isabella's  promptness  and  hero- 
ism in  the  presence  of  danger.  When  news  was  brought  to  her 
of  the  revolt  of  the  city  of  Segovia  she  at  once  mounted  her  horse 
and,  accompanied  by  a  handful  of  her  followers,  effected  an 
entrance  through  one  of  the  gates.  Eiding  direct  to  the  citadel 
where  the  tumult  was  at  its  height,  she  stationed  herself  in  the 
courtyard  and  demanded  of  the  enraged  populace  the  cause  of  the 
insurrection. 

"Tell  me  what  are  your  grievances,''  said  she,  ''and  I  will  do 
all  in  my  power  to  redress  them;  for  I  am  sure  that  what  is  for 
your  interest  must  be  also  for  mine  and  for  that  of  the  whole  city." 

Such  conduct  won  the  respect,  admiration  and  love  of  her  sub- 
jects. The  insurrection  was  put  down  and  the  mob  dispersed 
shouting,  ''Long  live  the  Queen." 

One  of  the  stumbling  blocks  of  the  biographer  in  the  reign  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella  is  the  Inquisition,  that  last  rock  thrown 
by  all  Protestant  writers  at  the  Cliurch  of  Rome.  Volumes  have 
been  written  about  it — they  need  not  be  added  to.  It  is  sufficient 
to  say  of  it  that  it  was  primarily  a  political  rather  than  a  religious 
institution  ;  had  its  origin  partly,  it  is  true,  in  a  misguided  zeal, 
but  far  more  largely  in  avarice  and  greed.  It  was  aimed  at  the 
Jews,  whose  position  in  Spain  had  long  been  a  humiliating  one, 
the  outcasts  of  society.  To  hold  Isabella  responsible  for  the 
injustices  of  the  Inquisition  would  be  as  absurd  as  to  blame  Wash- 
ington for  the  evil  of  slavery,  as  absurd  as  to  expect  in  the  fif- 
teenth century  the  enlightenment  of  the  nineteenth.  All  history 
is  a  record  of  progress — from  ignorance  to,  knowledge,  from  weak- 
ness to  strength,  from  bondage  to  freedom. 

The  history  of  the  Moors  in  Spain,  the  recital  of  the  splendors 
of  their  stately  capital  Granada  and  of  its  gradual  overthrow  and 
the  subversion  of  the  Arabian  empire  in  Europe  is  a  more  alluring 
subject.  Irving  has  dwelt  upon  it  in  his  own  picturesque  and  fas- 
cinating style.  The  Moors  were  as  fierce  and  terrible  in  battle  as 
they  were  luxurious  and  effeminate  in  peace,  Cordova  with  its 
narrow  streets  that  seemed  to  whisper  nightly  of  strange  adven- 
tures, its  lofty  houses  with  turrets  of  curiously  wrought  larch  or 
stone,  its  white  columned  mosques  and  marbled  fountains,  its  airy 


ISABELLA.  THE  WOMAN  AND  QUEEN.  209 

halls  fragrant  with  the  perfume  of  the  orange,  the  olive  and  the 
pomegranate — all  this  has  a  peculiar  fascination  to  the  student  and 
the  traveler. 

In  these  wars  with  the  Moors,  as  in  all  other  wars,  Ferdinand 
assumed  the  command  of  the  army,  while  Isabella  directed  the 
internal  arrangements  of  the  kingdom  and  supplied  the  sinews  of 
battle.  She  held  herself  indeed  ever  in  readiness  to  go  to  the 
front,  and  in  some  cases  was  called  upon  by  her  husband  to  do  so 
when  the  spirits  of  the  soldiers  were  flagging  and  he  wished  to 
infuse  new  ardor  into  the  struggle.  She  always  responded  with 
the  greatest  alacrity,  and  it  was  due  to  her  wisdom  that  many 
reforms  in  camp-life  were  instituted.  She  was  the  first  to  origi- 
nate what  were  then  known  as  "  Queen's  hospitals," — tents  for  the 
sick  and  wounded.  She  was,  in  the  words  of  Prescott,  "the  soul 
of  this  war,"  and  her  ever  present  motive  was  zeal  for  religion. 
When  the  army  lay  encamped  before  Granada  she  appeared  on  the 
field  superbly  mounted  and,  dressed  in  complete  armor,  she  visited 
the  diilerent  quarters  and  reviewed  the  troops.  Everywhere  she 
aided  the  king  by  her  wise  council,  her  consummate  management 
and  her  inalienable  purpose. 

In  1492  Granada  fell  and  with  it  the  Moslem  empire  in  Spain. 
The  traveler  can  still  see  the  rocky  eminence  in  the  Alpuxarras 
from  which  the  Moorish  king  took  his  last  farewell  of  the  scenes 
of  his  departed  greatness  as  the  gleaming  turrets  of  Granada, 
crowned  with  victorious  ensigns  of  Spain,  faded  in  the  distance. 
The  spot  is  called  to  this  day  the  "  Last  Sigh  of  the  Moor." 

1492  brings  us  to  the  most  important  event  in  the  reign  of 
Isabella,  the  discovery  of  America.  The  story  of  Columbus  is 
known  to  every  school-boy.  How  he  had  vainly  importuned  his 
native  city  of  Genoa,  had  sought  the  aid  of  the  king  of  Portugal, 
all  the  weary  fruitless  years  that  passed  waiting  at  the  court  of 
Spain  and  how  finally  in  direst  poverty  and  despair  he  sought  at 
the  convent  of  La  Rabida  for  food  and  drink  for  himself  and  his 
wearied  helpless  little  son — all  this  there  is  no  need  to  tell. 

The  first  astronomer  who  advanced  the  theory  that  the  stars 
were  worlds  like  our  own  was  probably  met  with  no  more  incredu- 
lity than  the  Genoese  visionary  who,  standing  in  the  midst  of  the 
Spanish  court,  pleaded  for  this  land  of  the  western  sphere.  His 
learning  we  are  told  took  them  all  by  surprise,  but  it  convinced 
few.     Isabella  alone,  who  from  the  first  seems  to  have  been  favor- 


210  THE  GLOBE. 

able  to  hira,  was  won  by  his  enthusiasm,  and  when  there  was  ques- 
tion of  the  means  necessary  to  equip  the  ships,  royally  declared 
that  she  assumed  the  undertaking  for  her  own  crown  of  Castile  and 
was  ready  to  pawn  her  jewels  if  the  funds  in  the  treasury  were 
found  inadequate.  Thus  did  the  belief  of  a  Dominican  monk  and 
the  unfaltering  enthusiasm  of  a  woman  prevail  over  the  arguments 
of  men  of  science  and  the  incredulity  of  statesmen.  No  need  to 
tell  of  that  voyage,  the  three  small  ships  setting  out  so  dauntlessly 
guided  by  one  who  had  a  dauntless  heart. 

"  Over  the  wide  unknown 
Far  to  the  shores  of  Ind, 
On  through  the  dark  alone. 
Like  a  feather  blown  by  the  wind  ; 
Into  the  west  away 
Sped  by  the  breath  of  God, 
Seeking  the  clearer  day 
Where  only  his  feet  have  trod." 

Beautiful  as  are  those  lines  they  scarce  equal  in  grandeur  and 
simplicity  that  sentence  of  Columbus,  written  in  his  log-book: 
"To-day  we  sailed  westward  which  was  our  course.'^ 

Woman^s  faith,  called  until  proven  woman's  credulity,  once 
more  rose  triumphant  and  Isabella  has  no  fairer  crown  than  that 
woven  by  her  trusted  and  valiant  discoverer.  '*  In  the  midst  of 
the  general  incredulity, '^  wrote  Columbus,  "the  Almighty  infused 
into  the  queen,  my  lady,  the  spirit  of  intelligence  and  energy;  and 
whilst  everyone  else  in  his  ignorance  was  expatiating  only  on  the 
inconvenience  and  cost,  her  highness  on  the  contrary  approved  it 
and  gave  it  all  the  support  in  her  power.'' 

Religious  zeal  had  dictated  the  war  against  the  Moors,  religious 
zeal  urged  Isabella  to  sanction  the  seemingly  hopeless  voyages  of 
Columbus,  and  when  these  voyages  were  crowned  with  success  her 
first  solicitude  was  the  welfare  of  the  benighted  and  helpless 
natives.  In  view  of  Isabella's  known  principles  and  her  many 
stringent  measures,  it  is  a  little  singular  that  her  attitude  on  the 
subject  of  the  slavery  of  the  Indians  should  ever  be  questioned. 

"When  the  most  pious  churchmen  and  enlightened  statesmen 
of  her  time,"  says  Mrs.  Jameson,  "could  not  determine  whether  it 
was  or  was  not  lawful,  and  according  to  the  Christian  religion,  to 
enslave  the  Indians  ;  when  Columbus  himself  pressed  the  measure 
as  a  political  necessity,  and  condemned  to  slavery  those  who 
offered  the  slightest  opposition  to  the  Spanish  invaders,  Isabella 


ISABELLA,  THE  WOMAN  AND  QUEEN.  211 

settled  the  matter  according  to  the  dictates  of  her  own  merciful 
heart  and  upright  mind.  She  ordered  that  all  the  Indians  should 
be  conveyed  back  to  their  respective  homes,  and  forbade  absolutely 
all  harsh  measures  toward  them  on  any  pretence.  Her  treatment 
of  Columbus  was  equally  generous.  "When  owing  to  various  mis- 
takes and  misunderstandings  the  reaction  set  in  against  him  and 
he  was  sent  to  Spain  in  irons,  Isabella  indignantly  ordered  that  he 
be  set  free  at  once  and  herself  sent  him  the  money  to  come  in  state 
and  honor  to  her  court.  He  came  accordingly  "  not  as  one  in  dis- 
grace but  richly  dressed,  and  with  all  the  marks  of  rank  and 
distinction.  Isabella  received  him  in  the  Alhambra,  and  when  he 
entered  her  apartment,  she  was  so  overpowered  that  she  burst  into 
tears,  and  could  only  extend  her  hand  to  him.  Columbus  himself, 
who  had  borne  up  firmly  against  the  stern  conflicts  of  the  world 
and  had  endured  with  a  lofty  scorn  the  injuries  and  insults  of 
ignoble  men,  when  he  beheld  the  queen's  emotion,  could  no  longer 
suppress  his  own  ;  he  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  for  some  time 
was  unable  to  utter  a  word,  for  the  violence  of  his  tears  and 
sobbings." 

It  was  under  her  special  patronage  and  protection  that  he  set 
sail  on  his  fourth  voyage  of  discovery,  from  which  Isabella  did  not 
live  to  see  him  return. 

The  uses  of  suffering!  They  have  often  been  dwelt  upon ;  pos- 
sibly they  can  never  be  learned  by  hearsay.  As  a  queen,  Isabella 
attained  the  greatest  glory  ;  as  a  mother,  she  was  called  upon  to 
endure  the  deepest  sorrow.  The  anguish  of  a  father's  or  mother's 
heart  at  the  loss,  the  ruin  of  a  loved  child — that  indeed  must  be 
something  that  only  those  who  have  felt  all  its  anguish  and  all  its 
bitterness  can  ever  fathom.  While  her  husband  was  engaged  in 
his  brilliant  wars  in  Italy,  and  the  great  captain,  Gonsalvo 
de  Cordova,  was  daily  adding  new  glories  to  the  crown  of  Spain  ; 
while  the  fame  of  that  great  prince  of  the  Church,  Cardinal 
Ximenes,  was  spreading  throughout  Europe,  Isabella's  life,  clouded 
by  domestic  misfortune,  began  gradually  to  decline.  One  after 
another  her  children  had  been  taken  from  her  by  death  and  by 
misfortunes  worse  than  death.  Her  only  son,  Don  John,  died 
three  months  after  his  marriage.  Her  favorite  daughter  and 
namesake  lived  but  a  year  after  her  nuptials  with  the  king  of 
Portugal,  and  their  infant  son,  on  whom  were  founded  all  the 
hopes  of  the  succession,  survived  her  but  a  few  months.    Isabella's 


212  THE  GLOBE. 

second  daughter,  Joanna,  married  to  Philip,  prince  of  the  Nether- 
lands, became  insane,  and  there  can  be  no  sadder  history  than  that 
of  her  youngest  child,  Dona  Oatalina,  memorable  in  history  as 
Catherine  of  Aragon. 

These  and  other  misfortunes  clouded  Isabella's  last  years. 
When  she  felt  the  end  to  be  not  far  distant  she  made  deliberate 
and  careful  disposition  of  her  affairs.  Even  on  a  bed  of  sickness 
she  followed  with  interest  the  concerns  of  her  kingdom,  received 
distinguished  foreigners  and  took  part  in  the  direction  of  affairs. 

"  I  have  come  to  Castile,"  said  Prosper  Colonna,  on  being  pre- 
sented to  King  Ferdinand,  "to  behold  the  woman  who  from  her 
sick-bed  rules  the  world/' 

There  was  no  interest  in  her  kingdom,  her  colonies  or  her 
household  that  she  neglected.  In  her  celebrated  testament  she 
provided  munificently  for  charities,  for  marriage  portions  to  poor 
girls  and  for  the  redemption  of  Christian  captives  in  Barbary, 
Patriotism  and  humanity  breathed  in  its  every  line — she  warned 
her  successor  to  treat  with  gentleness  and  consideration  the 
natives  of  the  New  World  added  to  Spain ;  warned  them  also  never 
to  surrender  the  fortress  of  Gibraltar. 

*'  By  her  dying  words,'* says  Prescott,  *'  she  displayed  the  same 
respect  for  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  nation  that  she  had 
shown  through  life,  striving  to  secure  the  blessings  of  her  benign 
administration  to  the  most  distant  and  barbarous  regions  under 
her  sway." 

The  woman  whom  life  had  not  daunted,  death  could  not  dis- 
may. 

On  the  26th  of  November,  1504,  Isabella  the  Catholic  breathed 
her  last  in  the  54th  year  of  her  age  and  the  30th  of  her  reign.  She 
had  ordered  that  her  funeral  be  of  the  simplest  and  the  sum  saved 
by  this  economy  be  distributed  in  alms  among  the  poor  ;  that  her 
remains  be  buried  in  the  Franciscan  Monastery  in  the  Alhambra 
of  Granada  in  a  grave  level  with  the  ground  and  troddeii  down 
and  that  her  name  be  engraved  on  a  flat  tombstone.  "  But "  she 
added,  '*  should  the  king,  my  lord,  prefer  a  sepulchre  in  some  other 
place,  then  my  will  is  that  my  body  be  there  transported  and  laid 
by  his  side,  that  the  union  we  have  enjoyed  in  this  world,  and 
through  the  mercy  of  God  may  hope  again  for  our  souls  in  heaven, 
may  be  represented  by  our  bodies  in  the  earth." 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES.  213 

True  queen  and  true  woman  she  had  proved  herself  through 
life,  true  queen  and  true  woman  she  proved  herself  in  death. 

Spain  lost  its  brightest  ornament  in  losing  her,  the  world  one 
of  the  greatest  of  its  women.  In  every  age  women  are  brave 
and  pure  and  noble,  but  none  were  ever  braver,  purer  or  nobler 
than  Isabella,  the  Catholic  Queen  of  Castile. 

Mary  Josephine  Onahan. 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES. 


It  is  beginning  to  be  understood  everywhere  that  we  must  look 
to  photography,  portraiture,  sculpture  and  the  monuments,  scarcely 
less  than  to  written  history,  for  true  estimates  of  the  lives  of  men 
and  nations.  And  although  historically,  as  to  time,  Greece  was 
late  in  coming  into  the  civilization  of  the  world,  she  was  the  first 
to  carry  to  any  known  perfection  the  art  through  which  the  ideas 
of  this  study  have  been  gained.  To  modern  eyes  the  portrait  art 
of  early  Egypt  and  Assyria  looks  like  caricature  compared  with 
the  still  inimitable  work  of  Greece;  hence,  we  begin  our  study  with 
a  few  of  her  master  faces. 

A  glance  at  the  received  portraits  of  Zeus  and  Socrates  indi- 
cates either  that  the  philosopher  sat  for  the  likeness  of  the  god  or 
the  god  for  that  of  the  philosopher.  It  is  not  probable  that  either 
one,  find  it  where  you  may,  stands  for  an  actual  portrait  of  any 
actual  man.  They  do,  however,  stand  for  the  ideal  type  of  face 
that  all  the  best  Greeks  aimed  to  attain,  and  that  many  of  them  did 
attain.  Greece  became  the  incarnation  of  art,  and  glorified  herself 
in  forms  of  beauty  that  are  the  highest  standards  even  of  the  latest 
crazes  in  modern  art,  because  she  had  first  developed  types  of 
human  character  breathing  their  excellences  in  human  faces,  which 
they  themselves,  and  we  after  them,  have  called  divine. 

The  physical,  mental  and  moral  powers  are  in  finest  equipoise 
and  harmony  in  the  phrenology  and  physiognomy  of  the  Grecian 
Zeus.  Michael  Angelo's  Moses  is  but  an  Italian,  softened  repro- 
duction. The  standard  pictures  of  Socrates  are  a  little  less  bold 
and  magnificent  in  expression,  a  little  heavier  of  spirit — as  if 
haggard  somewhat  by  frequent  contests  with  Xanthippe — but 
otherwise  the  ideal  is  the  same.  In  truth,  Socrates  approaches 
nearer  to  real  life,  and  Zeus  or  Jupiter  is  more  ideal.     In  the  brow 


214  THE  GLOBE. 

and  pose  of  Hercules,  and  in  the  whole  expression  of  face,  the 
moral,  intellectual  and  spiritual  are  sacrificed  for  the  perfection  of 
physical  force  and  form.  It  is  the  god  of  materialism,  and  much 
of  our  modern  life  points  to  his  lineaments  as  its  ideal  dream  and 
end.  No  one  of  these  gives  us  the  face  of  a  prophet  or  a  savior  of 
men.  Each  lacks  the  intensity  and  spontaneity  of  voluntary 
martyrdom.  Make  men  with  heads  and  hearts  like  Jupiter  or 
Socrates  and  martyrs  would  not  be  needed.  Just  in  the  proportion 
or  measure  that  the  Greeks  fell  from  this  ideal  they  became  the 
petty  worldlings  that  made  martyrs  necessary.  So  Socrates  died 
for  them,  and  that  not  proving  efficacious  they  all  died  after 
awhile. 

It  is  a  sad  but  beautiful  study  to  watch  how  this  ideal  fades  and 
dwindles  through  Plato,  who  in  a  sense  maintains  the  intellectual 
strength  of  Socrates,  but  loses  his  master's  independence  and  with 
it  his  grandeur  of  soul  and  moral  heroism ;  and  again  through 
Sophocles,  who  still  holds  the  intellectual  power  of  the  masters 
but  cannot  speak  it  as  directly  even  as  Plato  ;  and  so  must  put  it 
into  the  subJimest  dramatic  poetry  the  world  knew  till  our  own 
Shakespeare  came. 

Fortunately  our  modern  encyclopaedias  and  our  works  of  general 
history  are  well  supplied  with  more  or  less  correct  likenesses  of  the 
able  men  and  Avomen  of  all  historic  times  and  nations.  They  are 
reproductions  of  the  best  statues  and  portraits  that  art  has^ 
handed  down  to  us,  and  a  careful  study  of  what  these  men  did  and 
were  reveals  the  fact  that  the  faces  we  have  of  them  tell  their  real 
and  true  story. 

Itisalittle  odd,  but  the  accredited  face  of  Solon  looks  like  that 
of  an  Egyptian  Jew,  with  hair  and  beard  trimmed,  and  taken  to 
regular  Daniel  Webster  statesmanship — a  wise  old  person  with  an 
eye  for  the  main  chance.  There  is  less  of  the  mere  vulture  in  the 
eyes  of  Solon  than  in  those  of  Webster.  There  is  also  less  abandon 
in  the  general  network  of  the  features.  Still,  though  older,  it  is  a 
more  modern  face  than  those  of  the  Greeks  in  their  golden  eras  of 
art,  philosophy  and  poetry. 

The  accepted  portraits  of  Homer  are  wonderful  revelations  of 
the  true  character  and  powers  of  the  man  who  wrote  the  Iliad,  for 
I  have  no  doubt  that  one  man  did  it  in  the  main.  Homer's  face 
is  more  introspective  and  dreamy  than  that  of  Zeus  or  Socrates. 
It  has  for  its  blindness  a  softer,  far  vision  of  sentiment,  song   and 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES.  215 

moral  heroism  ;  is  less  aggressive,  less  complete  than  that  of  Zeus, 
less  set  ill  its  reasoning  faculties  than  that  of  Socrates,  but  in  cer- 
tain lines  of  quiet  aspiration,  speech  and  glory  it  outshines  them 
all.  There  are  no  new  ethics  for  the  making  of  such  faces.  The 
old  way  of  martyrdom  is  still  the  newest  way.  Does  the  eye 
offend,  pluck  it  out ;  the  hand,  cut  it  off  ;  it  is  better  to  be  blind 
and  write  Iliads  or  a  Paradise  Lost,  than  having  eyes  and  hands 
to  miss  such  glorious  vocation  through  concentration  on  lesser 
works  and  ends. 

Coming  to  the  faces  of  the  fighting  Greeks,  there  is  plainly  a 
fall  from  the  large  completeness  of  their  gods,  their  poets  and 
philosophers — prophets,  in  the  old,  true  Hebrew  sense,  they  had 
none  ;  never  had.  A  long,  long  story  that,  and  unfortunately  we 
have  not  the  faces  of  Isaiah  and  Daniel  and  the  rest  to  mark  the 
sharp  differences  between  the  Hebrew  prophet  and  the  Greek 
philosopher.  The  difference  was  that  of  simple  moral  and  spirit- 
ual concentration,  with  equal  intellectual  power.  Solomon  knew 
all  that  Plato  knew  and  something  that  Plato  did  not  know.  It 
is  that  difference  which  marks  off  the  Hebrew  race — a  long,  long 
story,  as  we  said.  David  knew  all  that  Gcethe  knew,  and  more. 
In  common  portraiture,  their  pictures  approach  nearer  than  those 
of  any  two  great  poets  of  the  world.  Here,  too,  is  a  supreme 
revelation  of  the  true  instincts  of  universal  art.  Two  thousand 
years  apart;  the  one  a  Jew,  Semitic,  the  other  a  German,  Japhetic  ;. 
no  reliable  photograph  of  David,  but  for  two  thousand  years  a 
face  of  him  cherished  in  art  museums  till  Goethe  comes,  lives  a 
similar  physical  life,  of  evident  similar  mental  powers,  but  with- 
out the  Hebrew's  fountain  of  tears,  because  without  his  moral 
and  spiritual  perception  of  the  nature  of  moral  evil  and  the 
character  of  that  central  spiritual  energy  which  rules  alike  in  the 
flowers,  the  songs  of  men  and  the  eternal  stars. 

It  is  said  of  Goethe  that  he  once  remarked  to  a  presumptuous 
priest :  **  What  have  I  to  do  with  repentance  ?"  And  the  saying 
well  becomes  his  self-centred  lips.  It  is  a  profound  question. 
David  knew  how  to  answer  it  and  Goethe  did  not ;  that  is  all. 

But  we  were  speaking  of  the  early  Greek  fighters.  The  faces 
of  Miltiades,  Themistocles  and  Alexander  are  familiar  to  the 
world.  Of  the  three  the  hero  of  Marathon,  as  we  should  expect, 
approaches  nearest  to  the  ideal  face  of  the  poets  and  the  gods.  In 
quieter  times  Miltiades  might  have  been  a  statesman  or  one  of  the 


216  THE  GLOBE. 

great  poets  of  the  world,  but  nature  added  the  harsher  element 
and  Providence  turned  his  fine  sentiment  into  one  of  the  finest 
deeds  ever  done  by  mortal  man;  and  the  face  of  Miltiades  tells  all 
this  splendid  story. 

The  face  of  Themistocles  is  smaller  in  every  way:  sharp,  indus- 
trious, full  of  resource,  but  utterly  lacking  in  moral  grandeur,  and 
resembles  much  the  finer  faces  of  the  fighting  men  of  our  own 
times ;  not  the  greatest  of  our  men,  but  say  that  of  General  Meade 
or  General  Terry  of  American  fame. 

The  face  of  Alcibiades  is  still  that  of  the  handsome  English- 
man, given  to  luxury  and  unrestrained:  not  lacking  in  physical 
courage ;  capable  of  stress  and  nobility  at  need,  but  not  of  volun- 
tary mental  or  moral  labor  or  endurance  ;  the  typical  face,  every- 
where and  at  all  times,  of  the  healthy,  well-made  and  well-fed 
worldly  man.  We  take  them  for  gods  in  our  times,  but  the  Greeks 
knew  better,  and  the  moral  order  of  the  universe  will  not  change 
to  meet  our  modern  whims. 

Mr.  Kuskin  somewhere  intimates  that  Greek  sculpture  paid 
almost  exclusive  attention  to  the  anatomy  of  the  human  body,  and 
did  not  as  thoroughly  study  or  understand  or  express  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  human  face.  It  is  true  his  intention  was  to  show  how 
a  Greek  statue  was  of  the  keenest  interest  even  with  its  head 
gone.  But  the  whole  thought  is  plainly  wrong.  The  Greek 
sculptor  studied  man  in  his  entirety.  Every  accepted  Greek  statue 
from  Zeus  to  Alexander  is  as  perfect  in  its  face  and  hair  as  in  its 
shoulders,  body  and  limbs ;  and  the  thoughts  I  am  here  express- 
ing, the  gleanings  of  a  generation  of  study,  prove  how  inimitably 
they  caught  all  the  fire  and  faculties  of  the  human  soul  and 
wrought  them  into  the  cold  marble  faces  of  the  dead.  The  face  of 
Zeno  was  harder  and  the  face  of  Epicurus  softer  than  that  of 
Plato,  that  is  all. 

The  face  and  form  of  Demosthenes,  though  less  intellectual 
than  those  of  Socrates  or  Plato,  approach  their  ideal  and  have 
besides  a  concentration  and  set  expression  toward  a  certain  fixed 
and  limited  end  that  they,  the  philosophers,  never  knew  or  attained. 

The  face  of  Alexander  is  that  of  a  brute  ;  far  viler  and  more 
cruel  than  any  great  face  of  modern  times.  Napoleon  and 
Frederick  the  Great  and  Wellington  were  Christian  angels  besides 
Alexander,  if  their  faces  tell  true  stories,  and  all  my  life  convinces 


.1  STUDY  OF  FACES.  217 

me  of  the  absolute  and  universal  truth  of  the  poet's  pretty  fancy: 
"My  face  is  my  fortune, 
Sir,  she  said." 

From  the  face  of  Alexander  to  those  of  Pompey,  Caesar,  Brutus, 
Anthony,  Cicero,  Horace  and  Virgil  is  a  step  upward  again  in  the 
moral  scale.  All  the  great  Romans  had  better  faces  than  those  of 
the  later  Greeks,  but  from  the  large  moral  and  mental  splendor  of 
Socrates,  Plato,  Sophocles,  Demosthenes  and  Miltiades  to  the  best 
of  the  Romans  there  is  a  fall  as  out  of  Edens  of  beauty  and  glory 
into  kennels  of  strife  and  mere  Edens  of  lust,  and  pleasure  and 
gain. 

Here,  too,  the  seeing  eye  may  get  a  look  through  vistas  of  the 
philosophy  of  history,  and  bye-and-bye,  perhaps,  new  glimpses  of 
the  being  and  power  of  Almighty  God. 

Pompey  had  no  ignoble  face  ;  neither  had  Napoleon.  They  are 
strong  faces,  set  and  far-sighted ;  meant  to  command,  and  are 
largely  the  typical  admiration  of  our  modern  life  ;  but  neither  are 
they  noble  faces.  There  is  no  moral  power  in  the  visage  of 
Pompey;  not  a  shadow  of  it  in  the  face  of  Xapoleon.  Their 
strength  and  sight  are  given  to  ambition  and  selfish  ends,  regard- 
less of  human  anguish,  and  so  the  one  found  its  Caesar  and  the 
other  its  Wellington. 

So  Sinai  rules  the  earth  until  Calvary  in  some  form  or  other 
comes  to  save  it  evermore. 

The  face  of  Caesar  has  always  seemed  to  me  the  strongest  of  all 
the  fighting  men  of  the  world  ;  it  lacks  the  moral  grandeur  of  that 
of  Miltiades,  but  it  is  more  intellectual  and  cultured.  In  modern 
times,  in  truth  in  any  and  all  times,  I  know  of  no  face  to  compare 
with  it  save  that  of  General  Von  Moltke's  and  our  own  General 
Sherman's,  which,  all  in  all,  was  the  clearest  and  strongest  heroic 
fighting  face  in  our  civil  war. 

In  mere  fighting  grasp  the  face  of  Napoleon  more  nearly 
resembles  that  of  Caesar  than  does  the  face  of  Sherman. 

But  Sherman  was  as  great  a  fighter  as  Napoleon  or  CsBsar,  and  he 
more  nearly  resembles  the  Roman's  intellectual  powers.  They  are 
in  no  sense  alike.  Their  faces  are  in  no  sense  alike,  but  the  cast 
of  character  in  the  faces  of  Caesar,  Moltke  and  Sherman  is  nearer 
to  likeness  than  many  of  us  dream. 

Cicero  has  the  face  of  a  cultured,  cowardly,  worldly  man,  and 
he  might  have  sat  for  the  picture  of  half  the  kings,  statesmen, 


218  THE  GLOBE. 

parsons,  priests,  philosophers  and  princely  merchants  that  have 
tilled  the  world  with  wars  and  mammonism  from  his  day  down  to 
our  own  times. 

In  Brutus  and  Anthony  we  have  the  faces  of  thousands  of  our 
own  colonels  and  generals — German,  English  and  American — in 
these  days.  They  are  all  men  without  any  sense  of  mental  or  moral 
grandeur.  Fighting  or  enjoyment  is  their  business,  and  they  do 
not  dream  that,  retiring,  perhaps  quietly  starving  and  dying  in 
many  a  sacred  martyrdom  in  their  own  midst,  are  instincts  and 
men  striving  for  the  old  Greek  and  Hebrew  completeness ;  adding 
to  it,  and  to  their  faces  through  it,  the  light  of  Christian  power, 
and  that  through  this  deeper,  hid  and  silent  life  alone,  not  through 
fighting  or  wealth  or  pleasure,  can  the  human  character  be  evolved 
that,  if  any,  must  save  our  modern  nations  from  the  fate  that  fell 
upon  Greece  and  Eome  in  their  utter  decline  and  fall. 

In  the  faces  of  Virgil  and  Horace  there  is  an  upward  trend. 
They  are  Roman  ;  not  grand  in  any  sense,  but  in  Virgil  is  a  beau- 
tiful sentiment,  and  in  Horace  a  fine  cultured  mental  power.  But 
Eome  was  doomed  to  the  faces  of  its  later  heroes,  and  meanwhile 
other  faces  of  a  new  and  as  yet  unheard-of  human  power  had 
dawned  upon  the  world. 

It  is  of  little  or  no  moment  that  critics  tell  us  the  portraits  of 
Jesus  and  his  early  apostles  were  and  are  mere  altered  copies  of 
various  heroic  faces  of  the  Koman  Pantheon.  In  truth  the  new 
faces  were  a  new  moral  creation,  and  either  the  lives  were  lived  in 
Judea  that  stand  for  these  faces  or  the  artists  themselves  were  a 
new  moral  creation.  Wisdom  is  justified  of  her  children.  History 
and  true  criticism  know  well  enough  that  the  faces  in  question  did 
and  do  represent  actual  lives  that  were  lived  for  the  good  of  the 
human  race,  and  that  the  lives  of  those  faces  are  an  advance  on 
all  the  noblest  portraiture  of  the  world. 

The  best  pictures  of  Jesus  are  of  course  mere  idealizations  of 
the  character  found  in  the  New  Testament  story.  But  the  student 
perceives,  and  sooner  or  later  all  men  will  understand,  that  the 
best  faces  of  Jesus  are  in  no  sense  altered  reproductions  of  the 
face  of  Jupiter  or  any  of  the  ancient  gods  or  men.  It  is  a  new 
face  crowded  with  new  anguish  and  glorified  with  a  new  sense  of 
kingship  and  moral  and  spiritual  power  and  victory.  The  best 
portraits  of  Jesus  have  all  the  mental  clearness  of  Socrates  and 
Plato,  but  closer  knit,  finer  strung,  and  deeper,  deeper  in  silent. 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES.  219 

steady,  conscious  splendor,  a  moral  and  spiritual  power  that  smiles 
benignly  through  their  anguish  at  all  the  warriors  and  kings  of 
time. 

I  claim  this  face  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  heroism  of  the 
human  race.  Out  of  this  it  came,  and  through  unutterable 
htman  anguish  fought  its  way  to  sunlight  and  actual  moral  victory 
in  actual  Hebrew  life  before  any  artist  dared  to  catch  the  rays  of 
it  and  paint  or  mould  them  into  the  higher  beauties  and  worships 
of  mankind. 

What  are  all  our  creeds  compared  with  this  one  God-like,  lov- 
ing, persistent  human  face  and  the  endless  stories  it  has  told  and 
has  yet  to  tell?  God  with  us,  certainly;  as  the  old  Greek  Zeus 
was  in  Socrates,  so  the  Hebrew  God  of  Eternal  righteousness  and 
love  was  in  Jesus.  And  as  love  is  stronger  than  argument  so  the 
face  of  Jesus  leads  and  will  conquer  the  world. 

Take  any  grouping  of  the  faces  of  Jesus  and  the  early 
Christian  apostles,  and  you  see  at  a  glance  that  these  are  what 
Moses  and  the  prophets  would  have  been  if  they  had  known  how 
and  had  dared.  In  the  face  of  Jesus,  or  even  of  Paul,  we  see 
what  Socrates  and  Plato  would  have  risen  to  if  the  God  of  the 
eternal  spiritual  life  had  touched  their  mental  energy  with  the 
game  spirit  of  martyrdom  and  self-abnegation  which  were  the 
cornerstones  and  essential  essence  and  starting-point  in  the  lives 
of  Jesus  and  of  Paul. 

The  new  faces  are  of  equal  mental  power  with  the  best  of  the 
Greeks,  but  instead  of  going  to  poetry  for  their  highest  expression, 
as  in  Homer  and  Sophocles,  they  planted  the  word  salvation — that 
is,  a  rescuing  of  the  human  race  from  self-destruction — as  their 
later  watchword,  and  so  erected  new  standards  for  the  heroic 
children  of  men. 

If  Egypt,  Assyria,  India  and  Eastern  Asia  had  developed  and 
used  the  art  instinct  as  fully  as  did  the  Greeks,  modern  scholar- 
ship would  have  treasures  to  guide  it  in  comparing  the  faces  we 
have  named  with  those  of  the  Pharaohs,  Cyrus,  Gaudamah, 
Zoroaster  and  the  philosophers  and  warriors  of  their  sections  of 
the  world. 

The  portraiture  of  the  monuments  is  of  some  help,  and  on 
the  whole  simply  tells  us  that  the  civilization  of  Greece  and  Home 
repeated  itself  in  the  earlier  more  southern  and  eastern  nations, 
each  people  evolving,  according  to   its  blood  and  thought,  the 


220  THE  GLOBE. 

highest  human  types  in  their  power,  then  falling  from  this  and 
losing  their  way  by  physical  conquest  and  defeat — all  alike,  except 
in  the  case  of  China,  which,  having  had  civilization  enough  to 
float  it  through  three  thousand  years  or  more,  we,  children  of 
recent  barbarians,  are  to-day  shutting  out  from  our  shores. 

The  faces  of  Jesus  and  of  Paul  are  the  winning  faces  of 
history,  and,  clearly  to  me,  it  is  because  they  have  in  them  higher 
and  nobler  qualities  than  are  to  be  found  in  any  other  faces  of  the 
world. 

The  face  of  Mohammed  was  that  of  a  mere  fighter  beside  these 
stronger  faces  of  the  immortal  victims  of  love — but  the  face  of 
Mohammed  is  that  of  a  prophet  and  a  son  of  truth  and  justice  com- 
pared with  the  faces  of  many  of  the  Christian  kings  of  his  day. 

Leo  I.  the  Great,  and  Gregory  I.  the  Great,  were  not  little  men, 
but  they  were  doctrinaires,  hair-splitters,  ambitious  of  power  and 
regardless  of  the  essential  truth  of  martyrdom  as  compared  with 
the  prophet  of  Islam  and  his  eternal  cry,  "  There  is  no  God  but 
God.'' 

From  Paul  to  Constantine,  to  Gregory  I.,  the  human  face  had 
fallen  even  further  than  from  Homer  to  Alexander,  but  not  as 
low,  so  a  mere  child  of  the  desert  was  chosen  as  the  reformer  of  the 
morals  and  truth  of  the  world.  Blood  tells  ;  conduct  tells.  Human 
faces  are  as  the  blood  that  is  in  them  and  as  the  deeds  of  human 
lives. 

From  Gregory  I.  and  Mohammed  we  are  but  a  step  to  the  faces 
of  modern  times.  Here  again  there  are  no  two  moral  laws  for  men 
or  nations.  We  reach  or  reach  toward  the  moral  and  spiritual  life 
seen  in  the  faces  of  Jesus  and  of  Paul  or  sink  to  the  hack  faces  of 
the  modern  pulpit,  bar  and  stage. 

The  strongest  faces  in  all  modern  portraiture  are  those  of  Peter 
the  Great  and  Copernicus,  the  one  being  a  marvel  of  concentrated 
vitality  and  virility,  the  other  of  quiet  and  supreme  intellectual 
power.  The  one  is  the  face  of  a  creator,  the  other  of  a  martyr  and 
redeemer.  "We  must  not  blame  men  for  fulfilling  their  destiny. 
Heaven  only  knows  how  many  grandchildren  Peter  the  Great  has 
in  our  time.  It  is  clear  to  all  students  that  his  type  of  face  is  the 
prevailing  type  of  the  Eussian  people.  Copernicus  has  no  modern 
reproductions  that  I  can  recall,  but  the  solar  system  swings  in  dif- 
ferent orbits  and  by  different  methods  because  this  man  lived  and 
died. 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES.  221 

TliR  face  of  Robert  Burns  is  that  of  Peter  the  Great  over  again, 
•only  Burns  had  a  higher  forehead  and  another  and  clearer  light 
in  his  matchless  eyes.  And  here  is  space  for  your  gospels  of 
charity  and  other  dreams. 

In  his  fine  admiration  for  the  early  beauties  of  French  Chris- 
tian architecture,  Mr.  Ruskin  claims  that  there  is  no  civilization 
east  and  north  of  the  Vistula  and  the  Danube,  but  for  two  hundred 
years  the  Pole  and  the  Russian  have  been  doing  work  that  casts 
in^the  shade  very  much  of  our  Western  English  and  American 
•civilization,  and  work  that  is  art  and  love  victorious  compared 
with  the  flippant  atheism  of  the  France  of  our  days.  I  have  seen 
Polish  Russian  faces  among  the  farmers  of  our  Northwestern 
prairies  which  are  radiant  of  intellectual  and  moral  splendor  com- 
pared say  with  the  faces  of  Gambetta,  Grover  Cleveland  and  James 
<!.  Blaine.  The  lips  of  my  Northern  faces  can  not  speak  an  Eng- 
lish word,  can  not  write  Tariff  or  Free  Trade  platitudes  in  English, 
but  they  are  thinking,  working,  dying  like  millions  of  noble  faces 
and  hands  have  to  work  and]die  before  their  typical  deliverer  ever 
comes. 

The  faces  of  our  modern  Anglo  and  American  discoverers — 
Edison,  Morse,  Fulton,  Arkwright — are  hard  and  little  and  narrow 
■compared  with  the  noble  face  of  Copernicus,  and  their  works  are 
on  an  infinitely  lower  plane. 

In  the  faces  of  Cromwell  and  Milton  there  is  an  evident  surging 
of  the  blood  again  toward  the  moral  power  there  was  in  Socrates 
and  Sophocles.  Tennyson  touches  still  nearer  the  clear  but 
limited  sphere  of  Virgil  and  Horace,  in  fact  excells  them. 

The  face  of  Browning,  though  more  nearly  resembling  the 
faces  of  the  Greeks,  is  a  newer  and  a  stronger  type  and  plainly  a 
new  rise  toward  what  may  be  a  still  higlier  than  the  fine  Shakes- 
perian  type  of  face  and  work  for  the  Saxon  race.  At  all  events 
these  faces  teach  us  in  new  light  that  only  moral  and  spiritual 
truth  holds  the  heart  of  the  ages  and  persists  when  statesmen  and 
poets  and  philosophers,  not  to  speak  of  kings  and  captains  and  men 
of  wealth,  die  and  are  utterly  forgotten.  This  is  the  real  kingdom 
of  God.  The  same  gospel  might  be  preached  through  the  faces  of 
Augustine,  Chrysostom,  Savonarola  and  a  thousand  saints  that 
have  lived  and  died  for  truth. 

As  to  the  most  authentic  face  of  Shakespeare,  what  a  noontide 
of  radiant  light  is  in  it !  its  cares  all  laid  away,  as  if  in   mild 


222  THE  OLOBE. 

unconscious,  steady  splendor  it  would  shine  forever  when  all  the 
works  of  men  and  the  worlds  of  God  are  broken  on  the  wheels  of 
fate  and  time. 

Do  we  love  art  and  beauty  and  music,  here  they  all  are  in  the 
face  of  the  world's  supremest  worldly  man.  Do  we  love  something 
more  than  these,  look  not  for  it  in  the  face  of  William  Shakespeare. 

The  faces  of  our  latest  German,  French,  English  and  American 
statesmen,  philosophers,  poets  and  prophets  are  all  alike  preachers 
of  the  same  old  story.  Gcethe  might  have  been  a  god,  like  Jupi- 
ter; a  martyr,  like  Socrates,  or  a  prophet  like  Paul,  t/his  lips  and 
eyes  had  been  of  as  fine  a  texture  as  was  the  moulding  of  his  body 
and  brow.  There  is  a  difference  between  the  blood  and  muscle 
and  life  that  go  to  make  a  fine  form  and  a  strong  mind,  and  that 
finer  ner\e  and  spleen  that  go  to  give  vision  and  texture  and  touch 
and  trembling  to  the  human  lips  and  human  eyes. 

Paul  saw  more  than  Gcethe,  and  veas  not  afraid.  Only  God 
and  duty  and  death  satisfied  the  ambition  of  the  one,  while  kings 
and  fine  women  and  poetry  seemed,  though  they  did  not  satisfy, 
the  soul  of  the  other. 

In  the  face  of  Schiller  there  is  a  more  palpable  leaning  toward 
the  moral  and  spiritual  side  of  life,  but  no  greater  moral  power 
than  in  Goethe,  and  Schiller's  mental  grasp  is  as  that  of  a  boy 
compared  with  the  larger  and  stronger  hold  of  the  greatest  German 
man.  Schiller's  face  and  work  were  and  are  to  the  face  and  work 
of  Geothe  what  the  face  and  work  of  Wordsworth  were  to  the  face 
and  work  of  Byron — those  of  a  child-like,  good  man,  to  the  linea- 
ments of  gods  that  had  gone  astray. 

The  received  face  of  Bacon  is  as  self-centred  as  that  of  Gcethe, 
but  all  the  lines  are  harder  and  sharper,  as  of  a  man  set  to  the 
solving  of  problems  and  not  to  the  utterance  of  visions  and  dreams, 
much  less  of  other  men's  dreams.  If  Mr.  Donnelly  had  ever  stud- 
ied world  portraiture,  not  to  speak  of  world  literature,  he  never 
would  have  invented  his  cipher  or  tried  to  fasten  the  lie  on  Shakes- 
peare's fame. 

I  see  in  the  face  of  Luther  a  mere  floundering  animal  compared 
with  the  face  of  Goethe,  but  the  soul  of  Luther  was,  for  all  that, 
set  toward  higher  ends.  The  great  reformer  lacked  art  and  intel- 
ligence and  had  no  idea  of  being  a  Christian  martyr,  but  there  was 
a  heroism  for  low  grade  moral  truth  in  him  which  has  covered  his 
weakness  from  common  shame.     Next  to  Goethe  the  face  of  Jean 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES.  223 

Paul  Richter  is  the  noblest  of  modern  German  faces,  and  comes 
yery  near  again  to  the  face  of  Burns. 

Von  Moltke's  visage  is  a  reproduction  of  Caesar's.  It  is  simply 
the  face  of  the  typical  fighter  and  victor  over  again,  as  the  face  of 
Bismarck  is  that  of  the  broad  schemer  and  deep  designer  over 
again. 

Bismarck's  face  is  the  incarnation  of  all  our  oldest  and  best 
ideas  of  Satan  at  his  best  and  worst.  It  is  the  typical  face  of  the 
strongest  rascal  in  the  midst  of  a  world  of  rascals.  It  is  to  the 
faces  of  modern  diplomacy  what  the  face  of  the  once  famous  James 
Fisk  was  and  still  remains  among  the  faces  of  modern  Christian 
brokers — that  is,  the  face  of  the  greatest  devil  of  the  gang.  The 
face  of  Bismarck  is  by  no  means  that  of  an  angel,  philosopher, 
prophet  or  savior,  and  the  world  will  find  that  his  work  has  filled 
it  with  more  arguments  and  means  for  blood  and  vengeance  than 
has  the  work  of  any  other  modern  man. 

Germany  had  to  be  united,  no  doubt,  and  the  world  has  to  be 
united,  too,  on  quite  other  than  Bismarckian  lines  of  human 
victory  and  organization ;  but  here  we  are  only  catching  the  lessons 
our  silent  heroic  lips  have  to  tell.  Bismarck's  life  and  face  were 
needed,  and  so  they  dawned  upon  the  surprised  and  shriveled 
countenances  of  the  mere  tricksters  and  talkers  that  ruled  the 
German  nations  and  all  Europe  before  Bismarck  came.  I  do  not 
honor  or  condemn  this  man's  face.  I  admire  it  for  its  masterful 
cunning  ability.  Compared  with  the  faces  of  Disraeli,  Gortchakoff 
and  Metternich,  not  to  speak  ot  their  thousands  of  petty  imitators, 
I  might  even  fall  down  and  worship  before  the  massive  lines  of 
latent  honesty  found  in  Bismarck's  lips  and  eyes.  I  only  wish  to 
point  out  that,  spite  of  all  seeming  appearances,  these  are  not 
the  faces  that  rule  the  permanent  destinies  of  nations ;  that  finer 
moral  natures  do  that,  and  always  come  in  due  time. 

The  faces  of  Glad  stone  and  John  Bright  are  an  appreciable  return 
toward  the  countenances  of  Solon  and  Pericles.  They  represent 
a  sense  of  eternal  justice  and  a  desire  to  govern  men  and  nations 
according  to  moral  ideas,  but  utterly  lack  the  strength  of  mind 
and  will  to  execute  their  better  perceptions  with  the  rigor  and  per- 
sistence displayed  by  the  Bismarcks  and  Napoleons  in  executing 
their  viler  designs.  A  thousand  modern  faces  shine  with  the  same 
lessons,  but  we  touch  only  the  greatest,  and  mostly  the  dead. 


224  THE  OLOBE. 

In  front  of  my  desk,  wkile  I  am  writing  these  lessons  of  human 
faces,  there  hangs  a  beautiful  copy  of  Titian's  Muse  of  Dresden, 
our  modern  Venus,  and,  perhaps,  the  world's  most  perfect  realiza- 
tion of  the  old  dream  of  "  naked  and  yet  not  ashamed."  I  call  it 
one  of  the  chastest  faces  ever  painted  by  mortal  man,  and  the 
anatomy  need  not  detain  us  here.  It  is  not  of  great,  complete, 
womanly  motherhood,  as  is  Raphael's  Sistine  Madonna,  but  chaste 
and  pure.  To  the  left  and  right  of  my  Titian  are  portraits  of 
Carlyle  and  Emerson ;  near  by  are  likenesses  of  Victor  Hugo, 
George  Eliot,  General  Grant,  Wendell  Phillips,  and  General 
Lee  ;  near  at  hand  is  a  good  portrait  of  Turner,  the  artist,  and  two 
strong,  clear  impressions  of  Eaphael's  Sistine  Madonna.  In  sight 
are  faces  of  Lucretia  Mott,  Mrs.  Browning,  and  Charlotte  Bronte. 
To  me  also,  as  to  all  lovers  of  music,  the  faces  of  "Wagner,  Bee- 
thoven, and  Mendelssohn  are  as  well  known  as  the  faces  of  near- 
est friends.  So  without  break  I  have  a  condensed  photographic 
panorama  of  the  soul  and  soul-work,  the  struggles  and  victories  of 
all  times  and  nations.  And  all  these  later  faces  tell  the  same  old 
eternal  story.  Every  brutality  leaves  its  brutal  mark,  and  every 
loving  martyrdom  its  shining  sun-light  on  all  the  faces  of  the 
world. 

Spite  of  all  seeming  to  the  contrary  the  French  have  never 
applied  the  highest  powers  of  art  to  their  own  persons  and  lives. 
They  dress  and  play,  and  fly  at  God  or  the  devil  with  equal 
velocity,  and  have  never  cultured  their  persons  to  the  laws  of  art 
or  their  lives  to  the  chastest  laws  of  spiritual  morality.  I  do  not 
say  that  any  modern  nation  has  done  this  to  perfection,  but  France 
has  stood  for  so  much  external  art  of  adornment,  has  wrought  so 
much  art  into  her  philosophy  and  poetry,  that  we  marvel  she  has 
not  risen  to  the  old  Greek  thought  of  making  the  human  body 
itself  and  the  human  face  the  quintessence  of  all  art,  as  it  must  be 
or  fail  of  true  art  at  all.  This  comes  from  a  hundred  studies  of 
the  great  face  of  Victor  Hugo,  in  many  phases  of  it  the  very  great- 
est face  of  all  modern  times  ;  that  is,  of  the  last  two  hundred  years. 
If  Hugo  had  cared  for  his  body  as  the  Greeks  cared  for  theirs  ;  in  a 
word,  had  modern  art  been  real  and  not  the  lie  it  largely  is,  he 
would  have  been  in  person,  as  he  is  in  his  work,  the  nearest  of  all 
approaches  to  the  very  highest  things  in  Greek  philosophy  and 
poetry.  Perhaps  Hugo  is  a  greater  man,  every  way,  than  was 
Sophocles  or  Plato.      Certainly  he  is  an  aim  at  a  higher  type  ;  for 


A  STUDY  OF  FACES.  225 

the  old  never  comes  back  alone  ;  is  always  higher  or  lower  than 
what  went  before  it.  At  all  events  the  face  of  Hugo,  as  plainly  as 
his  work,  marks  him  as  one  of  the  half  dozen  chosen  geniuses  of 
song-and-thought-incarnate  among  the  sons  of  time.  It  is  a  more 
fcomplete  face  than  that  of  Goethe  or  of  Sophocles  or  of  Shakes- 
peare, and  the  faces  of  all  other  poets  known  to  me  are  far  weaker 
than  his  ;  still  it  has  little  of  the  prophet's  radiance,  though  per- 
haps more  of  that  than  any  mere  poet  or  writer  known  to  history, 
and  so  hints  at  what  the  poet  prophet  of  the  future  must  and  will 
inevitably  be. 

All  other  French  faces,  not  excepting  that  of  Napoleon,  are 
weak  beside  it  and  all  Frenchmen  may  Avell  be  proud  that  their 
mixed  Celtic,  Gallic,  Frank  and  Norman  blood  has  evolved  itself  into 
such  a  face  with  such  a  record  on  the  eternal  pages  of  history. 
Voltaire,  Montaigne,  Musset,  are  mere  captains  and  colonels 
beside  this  god  among  men.  And  as  for  the  mere  champions  of 
the  flesh,  famous  in  modern  French  fiction  and  politics,  their  faces 
are  as  poor  and  narrow  as  specimens  of  the  flesh  as  are  the  faces  of 
Compt,  Spinoza,  Swedenborg  and  Calvin,  poor  and  sharp  and 
pitiable  among  the  creed  makers  and  truth  destroyers  of  the  world. 

So  the  gallery  widens  and  becomes  countless  in  the  mazes  of 
modern  fame. 

I  think  that  the  received  portrait  of  Turner  is  an  eternal  refu- 
tation of  the  vile  slanders  that  have  followed  that  lonely  man 
beyond  his  grave. 

I  do  not  claim  for  it  any  high  moral  excellences,  but  it  is  in  no 
sense  the  face  of  a  sensualist,  and  to  my  mind  is,  next  to  Raphael's, 
the  supremest  incarnation  of  art  the  world  has  known  since  Phid- 
ias taught  the  Greeks  how  to  build  temples  and  make  the  cold- 
est marble  live  and  breath. 

Rirskin's  face  is  simply  that  of  common-place  English  honesty 
and  fair  play  taken  to  art  and  moral  truth  and  glorified  thereby. 
George  Eliot  had  and  has  the  face  of  a  goddess  gone  into  impene- 
trable shadows  and  decline.  The  face  of  Charlotte  Bronte  is  that 
of  an  angel.  Study  the  faces  of  Thackeray  and  Dickens  if  you  want 
to  know  why  the  one  is  respected  and  the  other  at  heart  despised. 
Spencer  and  Mill  and  Darwin  have  mere  animal  faces  trained  to 
quickness  of  wit  and  reason.  They  are  without  moral  or  spiritual 
greatness  or  grandeur  and  will  fade  out  of  history  as  quickly  as  they 


226  THE  GLOBE. 

shone  through  our  distorted  lenses  and  vision  to  the  fame  they 
have  enjoyed. 

Of  the  faces  of  Grant  and  Lee,  I  take  the  common  view  that 
Lee  was  a  gentleman  first  and  a  fighter  afterwards  ;  Grant  a  fighter 
or  nothing,  and  as  a  fighter  pure  and  simple  belongs  either  to  the 
very  first  or  to  the  second  order  of  the  great  generals  of  all  times. 
There  is  no  discharge  in  the  war  once  begun  by  this  man's  lips  and 
eyes.  His  lack  of  any  special  intellectual  or  moral  qualities  was 
made  palpable  enough  alike  by  his  statesmanship  and  financial  ruin. 

Or  course  I  do  not  mean  to  intimate  that  the  faces  of  all  per- 
sons of  high  moral  and  spiritual  consecrations  and  attainments  are 
of  similar  form  or  contour  with  those  of  the  best  Greeks  and  the 
early  Christian  heroes — some  of  the  noblest  living  men  and  women 
in  our  nation  today  have  faces  of  quite  other  form  than  those — 
but  that  in  all  cases,  times  and  nations,  moral  and  spiritual  hero- 
ism has  marked  the  human  face  with  a  certain  elevation  of  tone,  a 
certain  splendor  of  veracity,  purity  and  glory,  not  otherwise 
obtained  or  attainable,  and  that  these  characteristics  shine  with 
supreme  power  in  the  faces  of  the  heroes  named. 

The  faces  of  "Wendell  Phillips  and  Lucretia  Mott  were  new 
types  of  heroic  beauty,  but  to  my  mind  the  one  is  the  loveliest  and 
wisest  as  the  other  is  the  strongest  and  noblest  face  yet  evolved  on 
the  American  continent. 

To  save  the  reader's  prejudices  and  patience  I  will  group  the 
hosts  of  modern  portraits  thus  :  In  the  faces  of  Emerson  and  Car- 
lyle  and  Euskiu,  still  more  notably  in  those  of  Wendell  Phillips, 
William  Lloyd  Garrison,  Lucretia  Mott  and  John  Brown,  the  old 
philosophico-prophetic  rises  again  in  clearer  splendor  than  it  has 
ever  risen  in  this  world  since  Jesus  and  Paul  took  the  old  Hebrew 
standard  and  planted  it  on  the  heights  of  Calvary  and  Olivet  and 
in  the  burning  sun-glow  of  God's  eternal  quenchless  human  love. 

Of  these  latter  groups  the  face  of  Carlyle  is  mentally  and  mor- 
ally the  strongest  ;  that  of  Emerson  the  clearest  and  mildest  ;  that 
of  Lucretia  Mott  the  purest  and  chastest,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
in  consecrated  moral  power  the  face  and  life  of  the  great  Boston 
abolitionist  stand,  next  to  the  face  and  life  of  Paul,  closest  to  the 
face  and  heart  and  crown  and  power  of  Jesus  himself,  and  so  will 
ever  shine  among  the  victor  faces  of  the  world.  For  by  an  eternal 
law  of  nature,  the  mental  powers  being  equal,  the  man  with  the 
finest  dominating  moral  and  spiritual  energy  consecrated  to  some 


MODERN  THEOSOPHT.  227 

high  martyrdom  becomes  thereby  the  loved  and  honored  and 
adored  savior  of  his  nation  and  lives  longest  among  the  chosen 
sons  of  God. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


MODERN   THEOSOPHY. 


The  old  adage  that  history  repeats  itself  finds  a  striking  illus- 
tration in  the  recent  revival  of-  a  class  of  notions  and  practices 
which  had  long  ago  been  relegated,  by  what  most  of  us  would  call 
the  enlightened  common  sense  of  Christendom,  to  the  realm  of 
shadows.  Not  only  the  extravagances  of  hermetic  philosophies; 
not  only  magic  and  sorcery,  in  their  more  respectable  forms,  but 
the  most  puerile  objects  of  popular  credulity,  are  finding  votaries 
even  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  elite,  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  anthropologist,  who  perhaps  frequents  the  same  salon,  is  gath- 
ering them  from  the  strata  of  folk-lore  in  which  they  are  imbedded 
and  studying  them  with  the  impartial  interest  of  a  collector  of 
fossils. 

This  rehabilitation  of  the  occult  and  illicit  sciences  or  pseudo- 
sciences,  whichever  they  may  be,  appears  to  have  been  very  much 
expedited  by  a  direct  infusion  into  Western  thought  of  the  relig- 
ious and  philosophical  ideas  native  to  central  and  southern  Asia, 
which  was  brought  about  partly,  it  is  true,  by  the  researches  of  pro- 
fessional Orientalists,  but  principally  by  the  far  more  sympathetic 
though  less  scholarly  labors  of  the  members  and  friends  of  the 
Theosophical  Society  of  which  the  late  Madame  Blavatsky  was  the 
foundress  and  head. 

Although  the  Theosophical  Society  has  spread  its  ramifications 
through  many  parts  of  Europe  and  Asia  and  North  America, 
and  has  quite  a  respectable  number  of  adherents,  it  represents  a 
movement  far  wider  than  its  membership  rolls  would  indicate. 
Bodies  having  similar  aims,  and  representing  kindred  ideas  and 
habits  of  thought,  are  daily  becoming  mo're  numerous,  and  though 
some  of  them  are  hostile  rather  than  friendly  to  the  Blavatsky 
theosophists,  they  form  no  less  a  part  of  the  theosophical  move- 
ment.    The  number  of  those  who,  though  not  members  of  any 


238  THE  GLOBE. 

of  the  gnosticifiing  societies,  are  under  the  influence  of  approxi- 
mately the  same  order  of  ideas  is  even  greater  than  those  who  are 
formerly  enrolled  in  the  theosophical  ranks. 

I  have  advisedly  said  gnosticising;  for  the  theosophical  move- 
ment is  essentially  a  revival,  under  new  forms,  of  the  gnostic 
group  of  creeds,  which,  like  theosophy,  arose  from  an  admixture 
of  more  or  less  of  Christian  doctrine  with  a  stream  of  oriental 
thought  whose  ultimate  origin  is  traceable  to  the  speculations  of 
the  Upauishads. 

To  many  this  renascence  of  the  fantastic  vagaries  of  the  dark 
lands  and  ages  appears  to  be  a  most  startling  and  inexplicable 
turn  of  affairs.  Some,  it  is  true,  do  not  realize  how  mighty  has 
been  the  reaction.  These  imagine  ideas  to  be  decadent  which  are 
really  undergoing  rapid  development  and  difusion.  They  fail  to 
remember  that  during  the  whole  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  pre- 
ternatural phenomena  and  obscure  mystical  theories  which  now 
receive  such  wide  credence  were  almost  universally  laughed  at  as 
the  utterly  absurd  and  exploded  superstitions  of  an  ignorant  and 
credulous  past.  The  nineteenth  century,  more  than  any  other 
since  the  classical  renaissance,  is  an  age  of  preternaturalism,  of 
miracles  and  prodigies,  of  magic  and  necromancy,  of  the  practical 
and  speculative  Kabbalah,  of  false  prophets  and  messiahs  and 
theurgists. 

In  Boston  and  Chicago,  as  well  as  in  London  and  Paris  and 
Rome,  pagan  or  paganizing  teachers  and  wonder  workers  find 
audience  and  credence  among  men  and  women  who  represent  the 
best  of  occidental  culture  and  education . 

What  does  it  all  mean  ?  Is  our  vaunted  intellectual  progress  a 
myth,  and  our  supposed  emancipation  from  ancient  errors  a  mere 
obliviousness  to  a  most  important  part  of  our  environment,  or  is 
there  in  the  old  superstitions  such  a  tendency  to  continual  recrud- 
escence that  all  the  light  of  modern  science  cannot  avail  to  elim- 
inate them  permanently  even  from  the  minds  of  the  most  intelli- 
gent classes  ?  Neither  of  the  alternatives  is  an  agreeable  one,  but 
there  seems  to  be  no  escape  from  the  dilemma. 

Thus  far,  however,  the  maior  et  sanior  pars  of  the  people  are 
not  in  a  position  to  give  a  final  decision  upon  the  question.  The 
theories  and  phenomena  now  thrust  more  and  more  upon  our 
attention  are  so  foreign  to  traditionary  habits  of  thought  that  it  i& 
hard  for  us  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  them  in  a  calm  and  unbiased 


MODERN  THEOSOPHT.  229^ 

spirit.  And  yet  such  a  large  number  of  men  of  science  and  other 
serious  persons,  many  of  them  materialists  or  sceptics  hitherto, 
have  given  in  a  more  or  less  qualified  adhesion  to  the  order  of 
ideas  which  is  so  new  although  so  old,  that  we  can  scarcely  afford 
to  treat  the  movement  with  the  scornful  indifference  which  it 
might  otherwise  seem  to  merit. 

Without  attempting  to  offer  a  categorical  answer  to  a  problem 
into  whose  solution  the  personal  equation  must  so  largely  enter,  it 
cannot  be  amiss  to  take  a  rapid  review  of  the  situation  with  a  view 
to  determining  the  precise  place  of  theosophy  in  the  history  of 
thought. 

After  the  reason  of  Europe  had  thrown  off  the  restraint  of  the 
scholastic  philosophy  from  which  it  had  received  its  training,  it 
began  to  question  and  put  to  the  test  the  whole  body  of  tradition- 
ary beliefs  which  until  then  had,  except  for  dialectic  purposes, 
been  taken  for  granted  by  every  one.  The  result  of  this  sudden 
and  hasty  criticism  was  to  especially  discredit  those  beliefs  which 
were  most  recondite  and  least  obstrusive  and  palpable. 

The  alleged  occult  sciences  were  among  the  chief  sufferers.  The- 
whole  body  of  phenomena  with  which  they  dealt  came  to  be  set  at 
naught  and  ridiculed,  together  with  all  miracles  and  supernatural 
wonders  of  every  kind,  and  men  began  to  establish  landmarks 
upon  the  field  of  human  knowledge  beyond  which  they  assevered 
that  it  was  impossible  to  pass.  It  would  probably  be  truer  to  say 
that  they  began  to  deny  the  possibility  of  the  existence  of  any 
other  order  of  facts  save  those  within  the  range  of  their  own  vision. 

But  the  further  progress  of  science  has  been  accompanied  by 
such  startling  revelations  of  the  possibilities  of  nature,  and  sa 
many  things  which  would  formerly  have  seemed  the  most  remark- 
able manifestations  of  preternatural  power  have  become  the  com- 
monplaces of  our  day,  that  a  decided  reaction  has  taken  place, 
not  only  among  the  people,  but  in  the  scientific  world  itself,  in 
favor  of  the  practical  illimitability  of  the  possibilities  of  human 
knowledge  and  achievement;  as  far,  at  least,  as  our  visible  plan- 
etary environment  is  concerned.  While  the  universality  of  law 
has  been  more  and  more  emphasized,  and  supernatural  miracles, 
therefore,  unless  assigned  to  a  place  in  the  cosmic  order  by  being 
considered  as  manifestations  of  higher  laws,  are  still  discredited, 
there  is  a  growing  recognition  of  the  possibility  that  there  may  be 
natural  forces  and  relations  far  more  wonderful  than  any  hitherto 


230  THE  GLOBE. 

discovered  by  science,  and  that  the  future  may  hold  in  store  sur- 
prises even  greater  than  those  of  magnetism,  electricity  and 
hypnotism. 

All  this  plays  directly  into  the  hands  of  the  esotericists,  who 
have  almost  always  attributed  to  natural  agencies  the  prodigies 
they  proclaim. 

The  revolt  against  theoretic  materialism  has  been  accompanied 
by  a  similar  reaction  against  the  material  preoccupations  of  the 
European  mind.  Men  have  wearied  of  the  clatter  of  the  machine- 
shop  and  the  hard  contact  of  physical  facts,  and  are  longing  for 
the  ideal  and  the  interior  and  spiritual.  So  a  wave  of  mysticism 
is  passing  over  Christendom,  which  finds  its  expression,  not  only 
in  the  advent  of  numerous  gnosticising  sects,  but  in  an  abundant 
outcrop  of  new  devotions  in  the  Catholic  Church,  in  the  rise  of 
such  delicately  sentimental  schools  of  thought  as  the  New  England 
transcendentalism  and  the  New  Theism  of  France,  and  even  in 
the  religious  complexion  of  some  of  the  most  fashionable  forms  of 
atheism,  such  as  the  Comtean  positivism  of  Frederick  Harri- 
son and  the  positivistic  monism  of  Paul  Carus.  In  most  of  the 
sects  of  the  theosophic  affiliation  mysticism  is  the  most  prominent 
feature. 

It  is  absorption  into  the  Absolute,  whether  That  be  called  God 
or  Parabrahm  or  Adibuddha  or  the  Unconscious  or  the  Higher 
Self,  which  is  held  up  as  the  goal  of  all  exalted  endeavor. 

The  present  tide  of  mysticism  is  parallel  to  that  which  swept 
over  Europe  in  the  Thirteenth  and  Fourteenth  centuries,  when 
men  grew  weary  of  the  dry  disputations  of  the  schools,  and  the 
parched  spirit  asserted  its  rights  against  the  satiated  intellect.  The 
spiritual  preoccupations  of  the  later  middle  ages  disappeared 
after  the  fall  of  Constantinople  and  the  invention  of  printing,  and 
Byzantine  scholarship  brought  about  a  renewed  intellectual  activ- 
ity, differing  from  the  scholastic  in  this,  that  it  busied  itself  with 
learned  research  instead  of  with  rational  analysis  and  construction. 
Then  there  succeeded  to  each  other  in  a  new  cycle  the  theological 
controversies  of  the  Reformation  period,  the  emotional  extremes 
of  Evangelicism,  and  the  philosophies  of  England,  France  and 
Germany.  The  mystical  reaction  against  scholasticism,  the  senti- 
mental reaction  against  dogmatic  Protestantism,  and  the  theo- 
sophical  reaction  against  the  scientific  and  practical  absorptions  of 
our  century  are  closely  analagous.     The  mysticism  of  the  age  of 


MODERN  TllEOSOPEY.  231 

Tauler  and  Gerson,  of  the  beghards  and  fraticelli,  was  followed  by 
the  classicism  of  the  Renaissance ;  and  the  mysticism  of  our  own 
age  is  abutting  in  a  movement  equally  paganizing.  But  here  the 
parallelism  ceases,  for  the  Renaissance  was  a  sudden  change  of 
direction,  resulting  from  an  influx  of  foreign  learning,  while  con- 
temporary Orientalism  is  a  natural  outgrowth  of  an  indigenous 
mysticism,  which  is  merely  using  the  materials  made  ready  to  its 
hand  by  our  own  savants,  or  gathered  in  portions  of  Asia  owing 
Allegiance  to  an  European  crown. 

The  Renaissance  was  a  broadening  of  the  European  mind  in 
the  direction  of  pagan  antiquity;  the  theosophical  movement  is  a 
broadening  of  it  also  in  the  direction  of  the  existing  paganisms  of 
the  East ;  it  is  the  mission  of  this  movement  as  of  that  to  acquaint 
us  with  ideals,  habits  of  thought,  forms  of  expression,  and  kinds 
of  knowledge  far  different  from  those  before  prevalent  among  us  ; 
and  both  must  be  considered  as  highly  beneficial  in  this  particular, 
however  amenable  to  criticism  they  may  be  in  any  other. 

Not  only  is  Thcosophy  a  reaction  against  scepticism  and  mate- 
rialism, and  a  protest  against  European  provincialism,  but  it  must 
also  be  looked  upon  as  a  revolt  against  Christian  formalism.  Not 
that  formalism  is  peculiar  to  the  Christian  group  of  religions,  for 
it  is  probably  less  prevalent  among  them  than  in  any  of  the  great 
non-Christian  cults.  But  even  the  Christian  Churches  are,  and 
have  been,  infected  with  it,  and  probably  never  so  much  so  as  dur- 
ing such  a  devotion  to  exterior  activities  as  has  characterized  much 
of  the  century  now  closing.  By  formalism  I  mean  a  state  in  which 
there  is  an  obscuring  rather  than  an  illumination  of  the  essential 
aim  of  religion,  the  union  of  the  soul  with  Deity,  by  formal  observ- 
ances, be  they  few  or  many;  by  theological  disputations,  by  phil- 
anthropic and  other  labors  carried  on  in  the  name  of  religion,  by 
the  technicalities  of  accepted  religious  nomenclature,  by  a  prose: 
lyting  zeal,  by  a  sentimental  or  emotional  effusion,  or  by  a  sterile 
interior  or  exterior  silence — all  of  these  things  are  good  in  them- 
selves, but  any  of  them  may  be  pursued  to  the  neglect  of  true  spir- 
itual aspiration  and  endeavor,  and  none  are  more  frequently  abused 
in  this  manner  than  the  emotional  and  altruistic  reoccupatione, 
which  seem  to  have  a  specially  subtle  power  of  feeding  self-decep- 
tion by  a  simulation  of  real  religion.  Theosophy,  like  other  mys- 
tical schools  of  thought,  is  a  declared  enemy  of  formalism,  and 
undoubtedly   tends   to   awaken   men   out  of   spiritual   lethargy ; 


282  THE  GLOBE. 

although  it  seems  to  be  open  to  the  charge  of  but  changing 
the  form  of  the  delusion,  and  mistaking  self-possession  for  that 
utter  abandonment  of  self  into  the  hands  of  the  Divine  which  is 
demanded. 

Its  chief  value  fas  a  reviver  of  spiritual  life  and  thought  results 
from  the  fresh  vigor  it  imparts  to  old  ideas  by  clothing  them  in  a 
new  phraseology.  Many  of  the  notions  which  the  theosophical 
writers  claim  to  have  derived  directly  from  Oriental  sources,  and 
which  they  propagate  and  defend  as  something  entirely  foreign  to- 
Christian  belief,  are  really  integral  elements  of  the  historic  faith 
of  Christendom,  and  are  now,  in  the  freshness  of  their  new 
Oriental  attire,  finding  ready  credence  in  the  very  quarters  where 
they  had  long  ago,  in  the  dusty  garb  of  theological  technicalities, 
been  misunderstood  and  forsworn.  Thus  it  is  with  the  notions  of 
penance,  merit,  purgatorial  purification,  virgin  worship,  saint-wor- 
ship, and  asceticism,  all  of  which,  whether  they  be  true  or  false, 
are  common  to  the  oldest  of  Christian  churches  and  the  newest  of 
the  orientalizing  sects. 

To  sum  up,  it  is  clear  that  the  theosophical  movement  is  a 
swinging  of  the  pendulum  of  thought  away  from  the  one  extreme 
of  materialism  and  scepticism  towards  the  other  of  mysticism  and 
credulity.  If  the  via  media  be  the  best  one,  the  backward  swing 
must  be  considered  a  note  of  progress. 

For  the  great  mass  of  the  people — those,  I  mean,  who  have  no 
adequate  ground  for  an  independent  decision  regarding  the  claims 
of  the  new  school ;  who  do  not  yet  feel  justified  either  in  definitely 
accepting  the  teachings  and  admitting  the  claims  of  any  form  of 
Theosophy,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  in  rejecting  its  philosophy,  and 
denying  the  reality  of  its  prodigies — the  most  tenable  position 
would  appear  to  be  one  of  impartial  and  yet  sympathetic  reserve. 
By  this  expression  I  mean  that  attitude  of  wholesome  incredulity 
which  waits  for  sufficient  evidence  before  giving  in  its  adhesion, 
coupled  with  a  perfect  readiness  to  accept  any  of  the  new,  strange 
theories,  or  still  stranger  facts,  which  may  be  able  to  present  cre- 
dentials satisfactory  to  the  demands  of  sound  and  unbiased  reason. 

Whatever  may  be  the  outcome,  we  can  afford  to  thank  those 
who  are  enabling  us  to  enter,  with  some  degree  of  appreciative 
sympathy,  into  the  thoughts  and  experiences  of  distant  times  and 
distant  nations,  and  in  fact  of  all  times  and  nations,  for  such 
obscure  theories  and   preternatural   phenomena  have,  generally 


TREOSOPnT  ON  STILTS.  283 

speaking,  occupied  a  large  share  of  human  attention  always  and 
everywhere.  And  if  there  be  in  them  anything  good  and  true 
which  we  have  not  hitherto  possessed,  let  us  be  ready  to  welcome 
it,  even  though  it  may  come  from  the  hidden  laboratories  of 
proscribed  arts,  or  from  the  Nazareth  of  a  despised  paganism. 

Merwin-Marie  Snell. 


THEOSOPHY  ON  STILTS. 


The  Seven  Evolutions  of  Man. — Parallels   of    Thought 
Between  Ancients  and  Moderns. 

The  people  who  call  themselves  theosophists  and  are  otherwise 
designated  as  Esoteric  Buddhists,  Pin- feather  Buddhists  and 
•cranks  felt  great  exultation  over  Madame  Blavatsky's  last  two 
volumes,  "  The  Secret  Doctrine,'^  issued  by  the  Theosophical  Pub- 
lishing Company,  London.  The  volumes  are  very  beautiful  in 
themselves;  true  specimens  of  the  best  work  in  English  printing 
and  binding;  large  octavos  of  some  fifteen  hundred  pages.  These 
pages  are  crowded  with  Oriental  and  modern  wisdom ;  some  of  it 
fresh,  rare,  striking  and  lucid  ;  some  of  it  old,  commonplace  and 
verging  very  closely  to  that  universal  unwisdom  which,  while 
professing  to  see  divine  light  in  distant  worlds  and  ages,  fails  to 
perceive  the  same  beautiful  element  in  the  eyes  of  love  and  deeds 
•of  martyrdom  that  glorify  our  own  homes  and  generations. 

Readers  at  all  familiar  with  the  works  of  Max  Muller,  Rawlin- 
son,  Edwin  Arnold,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Samuel  Johnson  and 
other  serious  and  capable  students  of  Oriental  Religious  Philoso- 
phies, will  perceive,  and,  if  candid,  will  admit  that  Madame  Blav- 
atsky  has  approached  this  subject  with  greater  freedom,  abandon 
and  affection  than  has  any  one  of  the  men  to  whom  we  have  been 
looking  as  guides  in  this  direction.  On  the  other  hand,  readers 
with  any  true  perception  of  the  real  genius  and  mission  of  Judaism 
and  Christianity  in  this  world  will  as  readily  perceive  and  assert 
that  Madame  Blavatsky  is  as  ignorant  of  all  this  as  the  famous 
Balaam  once  was  of  the  Divine  guidance  until  his  own  ass,  goaded 
beyond  endurance,  offered  such  protest  as  asses  are  apt  to  in  such 
•cases. 


234  THE  GLOBE. 

To  paraphrase  these  fifteen  hundred  pages  or  to  give  a  com- 
mentary on  them  all  is  impossible  in  a  short  article,  but  the  reader 
must  get  a  clear  sight  of  their  aim,  of  the  distinctive  claims  and 
tenets  of  modern  Theosophy  and  of  the  relation  of  all  this  to 
modern  science  and  Christianity. 

Theosophyliterallyinterpreted  is  God-wisdom,  or  divine  wisdom; 
and  it  is  very  indicative  of  the  rash  conceit  of  modern  theoso- 
phists  that  they  have,  with  modest  complacency,  applied  this  term 
to  themselves.  Wisdom  is  the  last  thing  attained,  gained  or  found 
by  any  man  ;  though  women  are  supposed  to  possess  it  naturally, 
and  that  supposition  is,  of  course,  in  Madame  Blavatsky's  favor: 

Knowledge  comes,  but  wisdom  lingers. 
Divine  wisdom  lingers  most  of  all. 

*' The  Secret  Doctrine"  has  for  broader  title  "The  Synthesis 
of  Science,  Religion  and  Philosophy,"  so  intimating  that  the  aim 
of  the  writer  is  deliberately  as  ambitious  as  the  self-applied  title  of 
the  sect  is  exalted.  For  motto  these  volumes  have  the  old  Chaldean 
legend — ''  There  is  no  religion  higher  than  truth,"  and  the  first 
volume  has  for  its  special  subject  title,  "Cosmogenesis,"  or  the 
evolution  of  the  worlds,  while  the  subjectivity  of  the  second  volume 
is  "  Anthropogenesis,"  or  the  evolution  of  man. 

To  modify  the  impression  of  conceit  derived  from  these  ambi- 
tious titles  and  sub-titles,  it  should  be  said  in  fairness  to  their 
author  that  the  divine  illumination  here  offered  to  the  world,  par- 
ticularly to  the  initiated,  is  not  claimed  as  an  original  discovery, 
in  the  sense  that  Newton  discovered  the  law  of  gravitation,  or  in 
the  sense  that  more  modern  scientists  have  discovered  inertia  as  a 
full  explanation  of  the  ceaseless  motion  and  infinite  force  of  the 
universe!  Madame  Blavatsky  is  modesty  itself  compared  with 
such  claims.  Much  less  does  she,  and  still  less  do  her  followers, 
claim  to  have  conquered  this  divine  wisdom  by  any  heroism, 
martyrdom  or  absolute  subjection  of  the  physical  to  the  so-called 
spiritual  life  in  man  as  some  saints  and  prophets  have  conquered 
it  or  have  been  honored  for  having  so  conquered  it.  Neither  does 
Madame  Blavatsky  profess  to  have  received  her  divine  illumination 
at  first  hand,  direct  from  the  Deity,  by  special  inspiration  or  revela- 
tion, as  Christianity  supposes  its  Bible  came  into  being.  Madame 
Blavatsky  does  not  claim  to  be  a  seer  or  discoverer  of  truth  in  or 
directly  through  these  sources  and  ways.  She  is  more  modest  than  the 
mocking  world  imagines.   She  claims  only  to  have  gotten  behind  the 


THEOSOPIIY  ON  STILTS.  285 

veils  of  ancient  Eastern,  long-lost  Aryan  Kabalistic  and  occult— that 
is  figurative  and  hidden  or  esoteric-philosophico — religious  specula- 
tion and  first  sight  of  the  order  and  meaning  of  the  genesis  and 
evolution  of  the  universe  in  general  and  of  man  and  human  history 
in  particular. 

Let  all  who  have  strength  and  leisure  for  it  read  these  excel- 
lent books.  Every  woman  of  brains  ought  to  read  them,  for  they 
are  an  honor  to  the  mental  strength,  patience  and  persistence  of 
womanhood,  albeit  they  are  likewise  a  striking  proof  of  the  pre- 
vailing limitation  and  biting,  narrowing  prejudice  of  the  female 
mind. 

In  modification  of  this,  however,  it  should  be  said  that  there  is 
far  less  flutter  of  skirts  in  both  these  volumes  than  there  was  in  the 
same  author's  one  volume  of  **  Isis  Unveiled,^' published  some  nine 
years  ago.  Since  then  Madame  Blavatsky  has  spent  much  time  in 
the  East,  laboring  earnestly  there  and  elsewhere  to  find  and  under- 
stand how  to  use  the  secret  keys  supposed  to  unlock  the  hid-wis- 
dom  of  the  past,  and  these  books — a  marvel  of  research  and 
synthetic  power — are  the  result.  They  are  not  merely  an  enlarge- 
ment of  "Isis  Unveiled."  They  are  really  the  embodiment  of 
ten  years  more  of  study.  They  are  not  the  writer's  complete  utter- 
ance of  occultism  as  learned  from  Aryan  occultists  and  all  other 
sources — especially  the  other  sources — but  the  author  expects  to 
add  another,  perhaps  still  another,  volume,  until  the  ''Secret  Doc- 
trine "  becomes  the  essence  of  all  the  ancient  religions  to  be 
accepted  perhaps  as  among  the  ''working  hypotheses"  of  the 
human  mind.     So  far,  and  in  brief,  what  do  these  books  teach? 

First,  that  as  old  as  the  world  itself  there  have  been  occultists, 
world  adepts,  initiated  poets,  etc.,  possessing  a  knowledge  of  the 
occult,  hid,  and  the  powers  it  confers  on  man.  Intelligent  read- 
ers will  not  fail  to  see  that  this  is  the  same  doctrine  hid  in  our 
modern  term,  genius.  The  intelligent  devout  reader  will  also 
perceive  that  it  is  the  same  doctrine  found  in  the  Old  Testament 
and  applied  to  Daniel  and  the  likes  of  Daniel.  They  were  men 
who  understood  mysteries,  etc.  Madame  Blavatsky  calls  these 
wise  men  of  the  ancient  Eastern  nations  occultists,  that  is  all. 

She  further  claims  that  these  Eastern  occultists  had,  from  the 
start,  a  sort  of  Free  Mason  secrecy  of  doctrine,  revealed  only  to 
the  initiated  or  esoteric,  and  there  is  a  phase  of  common  truth  in 
this,  too.     For  more  than  a  thousand  years  the  truths  of  Christian- 


236  THE  GLOBE. 

ity  were  treated  much  in  this  way  as  truths  known  in  their  full- 
ness to  priests  only.  In  these  days  we  blurt  out  everything  in  the 
newspapers,  pulpits,  magazines,  but  it  was  not  always  so,  and  here 
is  the  core  and  meaning  or  common  ground  of  all  this  palaver 
about  occultism. 

No  wise  man  in  ancient  or  modern  times  speaks  more  than  he 
is  moved  to  speak  to  the  soul  or  souls  that  listen.  The  esoteric 
has  its  root  in  nature.  Jesus  Christ  was  at  once  the  greatest 
occultist  and  the  plainest-spoken  being  that  ever  lived,  but  Madame 
Blavatsky  seems  to  have  made  small  effort  to  get  at  the  key  of  His 
occultism.     This  is  the  crying  fault  of  all  modern  cranks. 

Second.  To  these  occultists  or  specially  illuminated  seers  of  a 
primeval  human  race,  existing  say  any  number  of  trillions  of  years 
ago  on  the  oldest  or  first  continents  of  this  globe,  there  was  given  or 
by  them  acquired  or  inherited — not  exactly  clear  how —  a  '*  prime- 
val revelation,"  which  was  the  original  '*  Secret  Doctrine,  the 
universally  diffused  religion  of  the  ancient  and  prehistoric  world," 
that  little  shreds  of  this,  dust  specks  of  it,  so  to  speak,  have  floated 
westward  from  ancient  India  by  various  means  and  are  now  found 
scattered  in  Christianity,  Mohammedanism,  etc.  But  the  total  is 
a  ''Secret  Doctrine"  still,  and  when  "Dayanand  Sarasvati,"  the 
greatest  Sanskritist  of  his  day,  in  India,  once  heard  that  Max 
Muller  had  spoken  lightly  of  this  idea  of  a  primal  Eastern  revela- 
tion, "  the  holy  and  learned  man  laughed  "  and  said  :  "  I  might 
take  him  to  a  gupta  cave,  near  Okhee  Math,  in  the  Himalayas, 
where  he  would  soon  find  out  that  what  crossed  the  Kalapani  (the 
black  waters  of  the  ocean)  from  India  to  Europe  were  only  the 
bits  of  rejected  copies  of  some  passages  from  our  sacred  books. 
There  was  a  primeval  revelation  and  it  still  exists,  nor  will  it  ever 
be  lost  to  the  world,  but  will  reappear,"  etc. 

Third.  And  really  as  scene  first  in  the  reopening  of  the  old 
secrets  we  have  Madame  Blavatsky  herself-whether  sitting  or  stand- 
ing, in  London  or  in  India,  in  an  easy  chair  or  prone  on  an  elephant's 
back,  deponent sayeth  not — but  in  the  presence  of  "an  archaic 
manuscript — a  collection  of  palm  leaves,"  etc.,  and  for  "first  page" 
"  an  immaculate  white  disk  within  a  dull  background.  On  the 
following  page  the  same  disk,  but  with  a  central  point,"  etc — .very 
like  copies  of  plates  in  a  thousand  books  on  modern  astron- 
omy. The  central  point  is  "  the  mundane  egg,"  of  course,  and 
"  the  one  circle  is  divine  unity,  from  which  all  proceeds,  whither 


THEOSOPIir  ON  STILTS.  2^7 

all  returns."  And  this  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  soul  and  forms  of 
souls  and  worlds  in  the  universal  soul  is  the  found  secret  doctrine  ; 
that  is,  the  first  and  rounded  divine  circle  of  it. 

If  Madame  Blavatsky  and  Colonel  Olcott  and  Mr.  Foulke  had 
stayed  on  this  side  the  sea  they  might  have  learned,  if  in  fact 
they  did  not  learn,  all  their  esoteric  Buddhism  in  the  city  of  I'hila^ 
delphia,  and  without  the  aid  of  any  imaginary  ancient  charts  at 
all. 

Fourth.  As  a  further  step  toward  explanation,  *'  The  Occult 
Catechism"  contains  the  following:  "What  is  it  that  ever  is  ?" 
"Space,  the  eternal  auapadaka."  "What  is  it  that  ever  was?" 
"The  germ  in  the  root."  "What  .is  it  that  is  ever  coming  and 
going  ?"  "The  great  breath,"  etc.,  with  lots  of  another  fangled 
tri theism,  hot  breath,  cool  breath,  and  the  like,  and  true  enough 
in  their  way,  showing  how  near  the  ancients  and  moderns,  scien- 
tists and  religionists  were  and  are  together  when  they  keep  their 
tempers  and  look  for  truth  with  open  eyes. 

Fifth.  *'  Occult  science  recognizes  seven  cosmical  elements,  four 
entirely  (?)  physical,  and  the  fifth  (ether)  semi-material,  as  it  will 
become  visible  in  the  air  toward  the  end  of  our  fourth  round,  to 
reign  supreme  over  the  others  during  the  whole  of  the  fifth  ; " 
that  is,  the  seven  elements  represent  the  seven  ages  of  man. 
Rounds  of  progress  from  primal  physical  giants  to  the  final,  finer 
than  etherized  light-weight,  air-winged  races  yet  to  be. 

These  are  the  salient  points.  There  are  a  thousand  others, 
touching  with  more  or  less  harmony  and  divergence  the  advanced 
scientific  or  religious  teachings  of  our  own  times.  For  instance — 
spite  of  Darwin  and  in  aid  of  Agassiz — occultism  teaches  : 

Sixth.  That  there  were  seven  original  "  primal  creations  or 
evolutions  of  man  ;  that  the  race  which  was  the  first  to  fall  into 
generation  was  a  dark  race  (Zalmat  Oagnadi),  which  they  call  the 
Adami  or  dark  race  "  ;  but  Adam  is  not  dark,  nor  even  dark  red , 
or  full  red,  as  we  have  all  supposed.  It  is  really  rose-red,  rosy; 
roseate,  the  rosy-cheeked,  white  race,  if  you  please.  So  we  have  a 
strange  but  intensely  interesting  mixture  of  George  Smith,  Raw- 
linson  and  Madame  Blavatsky. 

Seventh.  This  earth  may  be  any  number  of  millions  of  years  old. 
Man  appeared  on  it  before  the  animal  races,  contrary  to  modern 
interpretations  of  science  and  genesis.  "  Man  can  be  shown  to 
have  lived  in  the  mid-'J^ertiary  period,  and  in  a  geological  age  when 


288  .THE  GJMBE. 

there  did  not  yet  exist  one  single  specimen  of  the  now  known 
species  of  animals  *  *  *  proven  by  Quatref ages/'  So,  while 
scoring  the  scientists  at  times,  Madame  Blavatsky  takes  their 
thinnest  figures  as  facts  when  occultism  gets  a  lift  thereby. 

Eighth.  "  Meanwhile  one  task  is  left  incomplete — that  of  dis- 
posing of  that  most  pernicious  of  all  the  theological  dogmas — the 
curse  under  which  mankind  ia  said  to  have  suffered  ever  since  the 
supposed  disobedience  of  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  bower  of  Eden." 
But  we  are,  according  to  occultists,  now  toward  the  end  of  the  fifth 
era  or  race  round  of  man,  and  Madame  Blavatsky  herself  admits 
and  asserts  that  great  mischief  has  occurred  somewhere  in  the  past 
which  changed,  for  the  worse,  "  physiologically,  morally  physic- 
ally and  mentally,  the  whole  nature  of  the  fourth  race  of  mankind, 
until,  from  the  healthy  king  of  animal  creation  of  the  third  race, 
man  became  in  the  fifth,  or  our  race,  a  helpless,  scrofulous  being, 
and  has  now  become  the  wealthiest  heir  on  the  globe  to  constitu- 
tional and  hereditary  diseases,  the  most  consciously  and  intel- 
ligently bestial  of  all  animals." 

No  Oalvinist  ever  painted  the  picture  in  blacker  colors,  and, 
with  a  rational  interpretation  of  the  beautiful  but  bitter  poetry  of 
Eden,  even  Dr.  Crosby  and  Madame  Blavatsky  may  yet  join  in 
the  same  revival  hymns. 

One  word  about  our  Indo-Buddhist's  motto — Truth  is  not 
religion,  but  the  worship  of  truth  is. 

W.  H.  Thorn  E. 


THOMAS   WILLIAM   PARSONS. 


The  New  England  school  of  poets,  as  it  has  been  called,  has 
given  during  the  present  generation  a  glory  to  our  American 
literature  hitherto  unthought  -of.  One  by  one,  however,  the 
silence  of  death  has  fallen  upon  those  reputed  to  have  enjoyed  the 
widest  fame,  the  most  popular  name  ;  and  the  truest  Tuscan  of 
them  all  whose  voice  was  like  that  of  a  nightingale  among  the 
choristers  of  the  grove,  has  just  ceased  to  breathe.  Few  seem  left 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  beautiful  genius  whose  utterances  were  as 
perfect  as  those  of  the  ancient  masters  of  song  ;  while  the  exquisite 
itructure  of  his  verse  was  ennobled  by  sentiments  so  delicate  that 
Ihey  might  have  been   breathed   in  the  ear  of  a  vestal. 


THOMAS  WILLIAM  PABSONS.  23« 

This  poet,  Thomas  William  Parsons,  the  son  of  a  well  known 
physician  of  the  same  name  who  came  to  Boston  from  Southamp- 
ton, England,  was  born  in  Boston  August  18,  1819.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Boston  Latin  school,  where  he  is  said  to  have 
**  drunk  in  the  knowledge  and  appreciation  of  the  great  masters 
of  classical  composition  which  colored  and  inspired  his  poetic 
work/'  He  was  early  influenced,  also,  by  his  father's  literary 
tastes  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  they  visited  Europe  together, 
spending  much  time  in  Italy,  and  in  Eome.  His  father  died  in 
1854,  but  not  too  early  to  enjoy  the  appreciation  given  to  his  son 
by  the  scholars  of  Boston,  Cambridge  and  England,  for  his  trans- 
lations of  Dante  and  also  for  his  own  poems  published  that  year. 

We  have  not  been  able  to  lay  a  hand  upon  this  first  volume, 
and  very  few  of  his  poems  are  dated  ;  but  we  are  certain  that  the 
contents  of  his  first  volume  enter  into  succeeding  ones,  in  a  man- 
ner characteristic  of  him  in  his  other  publications,  and  we  there- 
fore speak  of  them  somewhat  in  the  order  in  which  we  became 
acquainted  with  them.  And  first,  **The  Willey  House,"  which 
found  its  way,  as  the  true  ballad  which  it  is,  into  various  school 
readers.  The  story  is  told  with  a  vividness  which  will  never  allow 
it  to  be  forgotten  by  the  youngest  scholar  of  "a  district  school," 
the  horror  of  the  catastrophe  softened  to  young  and  sympathizing 
hearts  by  such  touches  as  these  : 

' '  Right  fond  and  pleasant  in  their  ways 
The  gentle  Willey  people  were  ; 
I  knew  them  in  those  peaceful  days, 
And  Mary — every  one  knew  her — " 
while  the  pretty  opening  stanza  won  every  child's  heart  at  the 
beginning: 

"  Come,  children,  put  your  baskets  down. 

And  let  the  blushing  berries  be  ; 
Sit  here  and  wreathe,  a  laurel  crown. 
And  if  I  win  it,  give  it  me." 
Every  word  gives  us  a  touch  of  mountain   life,   of  mountain 
laurel  and  the  strawberryings  among  the  hills. 

Another  comes  to  mind  as  fixing  for  us,  the  moment  we  had 
read  it,  the  essential  quality  of  Dr.  Parson's  verse: 

"  The  handful  here  that  once  was  Mary's  earth, 
Held,  while  it  breathed,  so  beautiful  a  soul, 
That  when  she  died,  all  recognized  her  birth. 
And  had  their  sorrow  in  serene  control. 


240  THE  GLOBE. 

Shouldst  thou,  sad  pilgrim,  who  mayst  hither  pass, 

Note  in  these  flowers  a  delicater  hue  ; 
Should  spring  come  earlier  to  this  hallowed  grass, 

Or  the  bee  later  linger  on  the  dew, 

Know  that  her  spirit  to  her  body  lent 

Such  sweetness,  grace,  as  only  goodness  can  ; 

That  even  her  dust,  and  this  her  monument, 
Have  yet  a  spell  to  stay  one  lonely  man — 

Lonely  through  life,  but  looking  for  the  day 
When  what  is  mortal  of  himself  shall  sleep  ; 

When  human  passion  shall  have  passed  away. 
And  love  no  longer  be  a  thing  to  weep." 

Of  the  claims  of  the  heart  of  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Parsons,  it 
would  be  hard  to  speak  adequately,  but  we  must  give  a  few  lines 
addressed  to  Bishop  Fitzpatrick,  his  school-fellow,  who,  he  says, 
was  pleased 

"To  patronize  my  pen 
When  I  turned  Horace  into  English  rhyme. 
And  thought  myself  a  poet  for  the  time. 
In  Latin  School-days — " 

"Son  of  St.  Patrick,  John,  the  best  of  men, 

Boston's  blest  Bishop  bids  good-by  again. 

Not  long  ago  we  parted  on  the  shore 

And  said  farewell,  nor  thought  to  see  him  more; 

That  brain  so  weary,  and  that  heart  so  worn 

With  many  cares! — the  parting  made  us  mourn. 

But  he  came  back — he  could  not  die  in  Rome, 

Though  well  those  bones  might  rest  by  Peter's  Dome. 

Or  Ara  Coell— -and  the  Sacred  Stair 

That  climbs  the  Capitol — or  anywhere 

In  that  Queen  city — sepulchre  of  kings. 

*  *  #  *  » 

Then,  good  Fitzpatrick,  noble  heir  of  those 
Who  went  before  thee — Fenwick  and  Bordeaux's 
Gentle  Archbishop,  Cheverus,  and  Jussaud — 
Whom  in  my  boyhood  I  was  blest  to  know. 
But  the  bell  moves  me.    Christian,  fare  thee  well; 
I  loved  my  Bishop,  and  I  mind  his  bell." 

Here  is  an  exquisite  versification  : 

"Brush  not  the  floor  where  my  lady  hath  trod, 
Lest  one  light  sign  of  her  foot  you  may  mar; 

For,  where  she  walks,  in  th<?  spring,  on  the  sod, 
There  I  have  noticed  most  violets  are. 


THOMAS  WILLIAM  PARSONS.  241 

I  think  the  sun  stops,  if  a  moment  she  stands 
In  the  morn,  sometimes,  at  her  father's  door; 

And  the  brook,  where  she  may  have  dipt  her  hand. 
Runs  clearer  to  me  than  it  did  before. 

*  *  »  *  » 

"  Under  the  mail  of '  I  know  me  pure,' 
I  dare  to  dream  of  her;  and,  by  day, 
As  oft  as  I  come  to  her  presence,  I'm  sure 
Had  I  one  low  thought,  she  would  look  it  away," 

Another  gives  the  moods  of  the  poet,  under  the  title  of  *'  A 
Calm:" 

"Because  I  write  not,  do  not  think  me  dull; 

Nor  call  me  sullen  when  I  seldom  speak; 
Say  not  'How  lazy!'  if  there  comes  a  lull 

In  my  life's  passage,  for  a  single  week; 
'Tis  not  that  Love  lies  dead  within  my  breast; 

'Tis  not  ill  humor,  dearest,  or  a  pique; 
But  sometimes  nothing  is  the  very  best 

That  one  can  say,  or  think,  or  do,  or  plan; 

God  gives  his  ocean  calms,  and  why  not  man?" 

**  The  Shadow  of  the  Obelisk  "  might  well  give  its  name  to  one 
of  his  volumes  as  the  closing  stanzas  we  quote  will  show.  The 
rapid  pen  strokes  which  give  us  modern  Rome,  pervaded,  as  it  is, 
with  the  spirit  of  the  past,  show  us  how  this  poet  whose  dainty 
lines  portray  existences  almost  too  ideal  for  our  world,  have  the 
strength  of  a  master  of  solemn  harmonies  under  a  grand  subject. 

"  Heavenly  bright  the  broad  enclosure  ;  but  the  o'erwhelming  silence 

brought 
Stillness  to  mine  own  heart's  beating  with  a  moment's  turn  of  thought. 
And  it  startled  me  to  notice  I  was  walking  unaware. 

O'er  the  Obelisk's  tall  shadow  on  the  pavement  of  the  square. 

********** 

* 

Gut  of  Egypt  came  the  trophy,  froni  old  empire  to  the  new  ; 

Here  the  eternal  apparition  met  the  millions'  daily  view. 

Virgil's  foot  has  touched  it  often, — it  hath  kissed  Octavia's  face — 

Royal  chariots  have  rolled  o'er  it,  in  the  frenzy  of  the  race, 

When  the  strong,  the  swift,  the  valiant,  mid  the  thronged  arena  strove. 

In  the  days  of  good  Augustus  and  the  dynasty  of  Jove. 

Herds  are  feeding  in  the  Forum,  as  in  old  Evander's  time  ; 

Tumbled  from  the  steep  Tarpeian  all  the  towers  that  sprang  sublime. 

Strange!  that  what  seemed  most  inconstant  should  the  most  abiding 

prove  ; 
Strange!  that  what  is  hourly  moving  no  mutation  can  remove ; 
Ruined  lies  the  cirque !  the  chariots  long  ago  have  ceased  to  roll — 
Even  the  Obelisk  is  broken — but  the  shadow  still  is  whole." 


242  THE  GLOBE. 

Dr.  Parsons  made  sevejal  visits  to  Europe,  the  last  in  company 
with  the  party  of  Prof.  Benjamin  Pierce  from  Cambridge,  and 
had  a  view  of  the  Eclipse  at  Syracuse.  He  married  Miss  Anna  M. 
Allen  of  Boston,  whose  admiration  for  his  genius  has  given  us  the 
magnificent  edition  of  his  translation  of  Dante's  Inferno,  illus- 
trated by  Dore,  while  she  was  never  weary  of  bringing  out  exquisite 
editions  of  his  poems.  After  her  death  appeared  several  tinged 
with  the  apprehension  or  the  remembrance  of  it,  from  which  the 
following  may  be  selected  : 

"  Into  the  noiseless  country  Annie  went. 

Among  the  silent  people  where  no  sound 
Of  wheel  or  voice  or  implement — no  roar 

Of  wind  or  billow  moves  the  tranquil  air; 

And  oft  at  midnight  when  my  strength  is  spent 
And  day's  delirium  in  the  lull  is  drowned 

Of  deepening  darkness,  as  I  kneel  before 
The  palm  and  cross,  comes  to  my  soul  this  prayer, 

That  partly  brings  me  back  to  my  content, 
"  Oh  that  hushed  forest! — soon  may  I  be  there! " 

The  last  collection  published  by  Dr.  Parsons,  was  the  Circum 
PrcBcordia,  or  Collects  of  the  Church  for  every  Sunday  of  the  Year. 
To  these  were  added  a  few  of  his  latest  poems  of  which  we  give 
one: 

IN  ECLIPSE. 

"  Prayer  strengthens  us  ;  but  oft  we  faint 

And  find  no  courage  even  to  pray  ; 
Oh,  that  in  Heaven  some  pitying  saint 

For  me  might  Ave-Mary  say  ! 

»  *  *  « 

Bflfore  the  morning  watch  I  rose — 

I  say  before  tJiis  morn's — to  kneel. 
But  of  my  voice  the  fountain  froze. 

Yea,  something  round  my  soul  to  seal. 

And  now  I  know  what  rosaries  mean  ; 

That  oftentimes  the  heart  is  weak. 
And  cannot  in  a  mood  serene 

Its  dumb  petition  duly  speak. 

Yet  every  bead  may  count  with  Him 

"Who  healed  the  palsied  and  the  blind. 
Restored  the  lame  and  withered  limb 

And  lifted  the  disordered  mind. 


THOMAS  WILLIAM  PARSONS.  243 

As  mine  was  then,  who  had  no  might 

Of  utterance  with  my  icy  lips, 
For  one,  great  Shadow  veiled  the  light 

Till  hope  itself  was  in  eclipse." 

Although  translations  from  Dante  appeared  in  the  first  volnme 
published  by  Dr.  Parsons,  as  we  have  said,  in  1854,  yet  as  cantos 
continued  to  appear  from  time  to  time  and  thus  his  friends  con- 
tinued to  hope  that  he  might  yet  complete  the  three-fold  song, 
we  have  reserved  mention  of  them  for  our  last  sentences.  The 
magnificent  edition  of  L' Inferno  which  we  have  alluded  to,  was 
published  in  1867.  There  was  but  one  voice  as  to  the  beauty  and 
melodiousness  of  this  rendering  of  the  great  Tuscan,  and  its  truth 
lies  in  the  rendering  of  the  thought  into  vqrse  which  charms  us  as 
Dante's  song  has  for  six-hundred  years  charmed  those  who  have 
read  it  in  the  Tuscan  tongue.  Of  all  others,  it  is  the  one  to  place 
before  those  who  are  to  be  coaxed  to  the  study  of  Dante.  Like 
Mr.  Wilstach,  Dr.  Parsons  believed  in  the  claims  of  rhyme  and 
rhythm ;  and  while  Mr.  Wilstach,  even  under  the  restraints  of 
these  conditions,  makes  a  translation  vieing  with  Mr.  Longfellow's 
in  accuracy,  Dr.  Parsons,  in  giving  a  freer  translation  brings 
into  his  verse  a  marvellous  freshness  which  is  a  delightful  incentive 
to  close  study.  Almost  ten  years  after  the  publication  of  L' Inferno, 
appeared  the  nine  first  cantos  of  II  Purgatorio ;  being  strictly 
speaking  Ante- Purgatorio,  the  actual  Purgatory  not  being  reached 
until  the  tenth  canto.  The  eleventh,  fifteenth,  seventeenth  and 
even  thirtieth,  however,  we  have,  and  the  eleventh  from  Paradiso. 
It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  to  give  an  idea  of  his  Dantean  labors, 
until  all  the  cantos  translated  have  been  arranged,  which  it  is 
hoped  and  expected  will  be  done ;  as  there  are  those  near  and  dear 
to  him  in  life  to  whom  this  labor  will  be  one  of  veneration.  The 
readiness  with  which  he  loaned  his  translated  cantos  even  before 
their  publication,  to  ourselves  *  to  meet  some  literary  emergency. 


ScrruATE  Harbor,  March  1, 1877. 

"  As  you  arc  preparing  somethingr  for  the  press  (it  was  S.  Francis  of  Assisi  of 
the  second  series  of  Patron  Saints).  I  have  translated  expressly  for  your  article,  a 
beautiful  passage  from  the  L'aradUo,  which,  by  the  way,  was  a  question  of  I^ily's 
suggestion.  I  may  hereafter  forward  it  to  the  Catholic  World;  to  which  magazine  I 
am  under  promise  for  a  contribution ;  but  it  could  certainly  not  appear  in  those  pages 
before  May  or  June,  and  I  do  not  imagine  that  its  publication  there  would  clash  with 
your  own  use  of  it."    The  passage  wps  from  the  XFth  c>tnto. 

Another  instance  of  this  most  amiable  disposition  is  given,  because  it  Is  too 
precious  to  bo  lost  and  we  may  never  have  a  better  opportunity  to  make  it  known. 


244  THE  QLOBE. 

was  thoroughly  characteristic  of  a  nature  as  gentle  and  unselfish  as 
one  can  ever  see.  His  shyness  was  never  outlived,  but  with  those 
with  whom  he  was  in  sympathy  he  had  all  the  simplicity  of 
one  who  has  never  known  the  world,  or  who  has  known  it 
with  a  singleness  of  heart  which  nothing  could  sophisticate. 
His  "  Daiite  Kooms,"  as  he  called  them  at  Beacon  Hill  Place, 
made  a  setting  for  him  as  the  translator  of  Dante,  altogether 
unique.  The  bust  of  Dante  which  he  had  apostrophised,  the 
choicest  and  most  ancient  editions  which  he  could  command, 
made  the  atmosphere  in  which  he  could  best  transmute  from  one 
language  to  another  the  tergo  rima  of  the  exile  Tuscan.  The 
seclusion,  the  deadening  of  the  sounds  of  the  city,  the  very 
"  wisteria  "  that  threw  out  its  branches  and  purple  blooms  across 
his  windows,  made  it  the  fitting  home  of  a  poet  in  that  high  sense 
in  which  Dr.  Parsons  certainly  was  one.  Although  we  cannot  at 
present  give  an  adequate  idea  of  his  merits  as  a  translator,  we  can- 
not refrain  from  giving  his  translation  of  the  XIII  Sonnet  of  La 
Vita  Nuova,  or  New  Life  by  Dante.  It  is,  even  in  English,  under 
Dr.  Parsons'  touch,  a  pearl  among  jewels,  a  lily  among  flowers  ;  a 
transcendently  idealised    picture    among  pictures,  of  song  amid 

songs. 

"  So  gentle  seems  my  lady,  and  so  pure 

When  she  greets  any  one,  that  scarce  the  eye 
Such  modesty  and  brightness  can  endure, 

And  the  tongue,  trembling,  falters  in  reply. 

SCITCATE  BY  THE  SEA,  NOV.  30,  1883. 

'*  At  Boston  I  addressed  a  line  to  you  by  the  hand  of  my  scribe,  teUlng  you  that  I 
would  try  to  find  for  you  the  canto  you  were  in  quest  of.    I  have  translanted  the 
Eleventh  canto  (l^rgatorUi)  and  took  great  pains  with  that  passage. 
Quando  vivea  piu  glorloso,  disse, 
Llberalmento  nel  Campo  di  Siena." 

"  At  first  I  began  to  fear  that  I  could  find  every  number  of  the  Catholic  World  but 
that  verj-  one.  After  some  search,  however,  and  with  my  sister's  help,  I  lighted  on  the 
desired  copy  and  had  just  cut  the  canto  (as  you  see)  from  the  periodical  to  make  light 
postage,  when  my  sister  remarked:  'You  must  not  give  away  that  copy  of  the  canto 
for  you  will  one  day  need  it,  and  may  not  find  it  easy  to  obtain  another.' 

"  CJonsidering  this,  I  was  about  to  write  to  you  to  return  to  me,  at  your  conve- 
nience and  when  you  should  have  wholly  done  with  it  the  extract  which  I  ino'ose — 
when  lo!  all  at  once,  a  duplicate  copy  turned  up,  carefully  put  away  and  duly  labeled 
in  Mrs.  Parsons'  handwriting:  "  William's  Eleventh  Canto."  It  seemed  to  me  almost 
as  if  Mrs.  Parsons,  who  was  ever  so  thoughtful  of  my  needs,  had  foreknown  that  it 
would  be  called  for  and  had  anticipated  your  request.  It  gratifies  me  to  mention  this 
little  accidental  instance  of  her  constant  forethought,  although  such  instances  are  of 
very  frequent  occurence.  I  will  not,  therefore,  dear  lady,  ask  you  to  return  me  this 
copy  of  the  canto." 

The  passage  with  which  he  had  taken  such  great  pains,  and  also  bis  notes  upon  it, 
appeared  in  the  article  upon  Siena,  in  the  second  volume  of  Pilgrims  and  Shrines. 


THOMAS  WILLIAM  PAR80N8.  245 

She  never  heeds  when  people  praise  her  worth, — 
Some  In  their  speech,  and  many  with  a  pen. 

But  meekly  moves,  as  if  sent  down  to  earth 
To  show  another  miracle  to  men! 

And  such  a  pleasure  from  her  presence  grows 

On  him  who  gazeth,  while  slie  passcth  by — 

A  sense  of  sweetness  that  no  mortal  knows 
AVho  hath  not  felt  it — that  the  soul's  repose 

Is  woke  to  worship,  and  a  spirit  flows 
Forth  from  her  face  that  seems  to  whisper,  "sigh!" 

When  we  remember  how  little  type  has  been  used  to  set  forth 
the  praises  of  this  poet,  who  took  so  little  care  of  his  own  popular- 
ity, we  need  not  hesitate  to  add  one  more  instance  of  his  charac- 
teristic simplicity.  On  our  last  visit  to  Boston,  Dr.  Parsons  called 
upon  us  at  Miss  Dana's  and  brought  with  him — not  a  basketful, 
but — two  apples  only,  of  the  most  delicate  tints,  from  the  "  Scitu- 
ate  Orchard;'' and  we  subjoin  the  lines  sent  to  him  a  while  after 
with  a  cover  on  which  was  painted  the  Scituate  Orchard,  beach 
and  lighthouse,  by  the  same  '*  Lily  "  to  whom  we  owed  the  trans- 
lation of  a  canto. 

OCTOBER   6,    1888. 

Of  apples  from  Hesperides,  youth  sings; 
But  here  are  apples  which  a  Poet  brings 
With  his  own  hand,  from  orchards  by  the  sea. 
The  sun's  full  benison  on  them,  for  me: 
Worthy  of  Virgil  and  Pamona  too; 
Of  scenes  mid  which  their  winsome  beauty  grew; 
While,  as  a  king's  choice  sentence  comes  to  mind 
The  fruit  of  wisdom  in  my  hand  I  find. 

Fair  Scituate  orchard!  drop  your  luscious  store 
Of  paly  gold,  with  carmine  dappled  o'er; 
Yet  we  listen  for  one  Tuscan  strain 
From  Scituate's  Bard,  to  cheer  the  season's  wane. 

One  more  token  of  those  traits  which  mark  a  poetic  soul,  cluims 
our  pen.     It  was  published  in  the  Atlantic. 

SONG. 

Strike  me  a  note  of  sweet  degrees — 
Of  sweet  degrees. 
Like  those  in  Jewry  heard  of  old ; 
Nay,  love,  if  thou  wouldst  wholly  please. 


246  rnE  GLOBE. 

Hold  in  thy  hand  a  harp  of  gold, 
And  touch  the  strings  with  fingers  light, 
But  yet  with  strength  as  David  might — 
As  David  might. 

Linger  not  long  in  songs  of  love — 
In  songs  of  love; 
No  serenades  nor  wanton  airs 
The  deeper  soul  of  music  move; 

Only  a  solemn  measure  bears. 
With  rapture  that  shall  never  cease. 
Our  spirits  to  the  gates  of  peace — 
Gates  of  peace. 

So  feel  I  when  Francesca  sings — 
Francesca  sings; 
My  thoughts  mount  upward ;  I  am  dead 
To  every  sense  of  vulgar  things, 

And  on  celestial  highways  tread 
With  prophets  of  the  olden  time, 
Those  minstrel  kings,  the  men  sublime — 
Great  men  sublime. 

A  song  which  he  might  have  sung  with  his  last  breath,  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  triune  world  of  Dante's  chant.  Well  may  we 
repeat,  recalling  the  noble  train  of  poets  that  have  vanished 
into  the  unseen  future  during  the  past  few  years,  the  truest  Tuscan 
of  them  all,  was  Thomas  "William  Parsons. 

Eliza  Allen  Starr. 


TENNYSON  AND  WHITTIER. 


It  would  seem  as  if  all  the  great  and  good  men  were  dying,  and 
that  the  world  itself  must  be  on  the  verge  of  ruin  simply  from  lack 
of  the  supporting  genius  of  its  greatest  human  souls. 

Simply  as  the  memory  runs  we  recall  as  now  among  the  buried 
dead,  Carlyle,  Emerson,  Manning,  Newman,  Browning,  Tennyson, 
Hugo  and  Renan;  not  to  speak  of  the  lesser  lights,  Whittier, 
Lowell  and  Lanier,  all  of  whom  were  with  us  but  yesterday  singing 
their  beautiful  songs  in  our  ears,  and  pouring  forth  those  streams  of 
eloquent,  passionate,  logical  prose  which  differs  only  from  poetry  in 
this  that  it  lacks  a  certain  winged  touch  and  the  art  of  measured 
lines. 


TENNYSON  AND  WHITTlEIi.  247 

Of  all  these  I  can  only  speak  in  this  number  of  Tennyson  and 
Whittier    and    of  these   briefly  as  it  were  by  comparison  and 
contrast  in  order  to  run  two  contemplated  articles  into  one. 
"  The  world  is  too  much  with  us." 

Even  those  of  us  whose  lives  are  presumably  given  to  culture  and 
thought  are  pressed  so  closely  by  the  toeprints  of  the  work-a-day 
world,  made  so  conscious  of  its  vulgarities,  ignorance,  falseness 
and  cares,  that  but  little  time  is  left  to  "cultivate  the  muses;" 
and  our  laurel  crowns,  and  worships  of  the  dead  are  clipped  and 
cut  short  by  some  clown  from  the  circus,  some  beggar  from  the 
gutter  with  a  fine  new  advertising  scheme.  So  in  his  ceaseless  bene- 
ficence, may  the  good  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us  all.  It  is  so  difficult 
to  be  a  poet  in  this  age  that  for  my  own  part,  I  either  worship  a 
true  poet  with  tears  and  gladness  or  I  feel  ashamed  of  my  own  exist- 
ence. 

Why  do  not  all  people  feel  this  way?  Alas  to  talk  to  people 
about  feeling  at  all,  or  worshiping  at  all,  in  downright  earnest  m 
this  mechanic  and  godless  age  is  to  find  yourself  stared  at,  suspected 
of  being  a  crank,  and  to  realize  that  even  priests  and  parsons  are 
looking  for  the  soft  place  in  your  head.  Fortunately  few  of  them 
are  phrenologists,  and  a  sincere  man  may  kneel  and  weep  a  little 
without  the  absolute  certainty  of  being  shoved  into  an  insane 
asylum.  So  let  us  linger  a  while,  after  the  trappings  of  the 
funerals  and  the  obituaries  over  the  graves  and  memories  and  works 
of  Tennyson  and  Whittier,  two  of  the  choicest  chosen  spirits  of 
modern  times. 

I  am  fully  satisfied  that  only  those  of  truly  heroic  mould  can 
fully  comprehend  or  appreciate  heroic  souls  ;  that  only  the  great 
and  noble  of  purpose  can  fully  know  the  souls  who  have  wrought 
these  noble  purposes  into  actions  and  words  of  flame;  that  we  must 
have  within  us  latently  the  elements  of  poetry  in  order  to  compre- 
hend the  true  poet ;  and  when  a  man  says  to  me  that  he  has  no 
sense  of  the  poetic,  that  it  is  all  alike  to  him,  1  know  in  the  fii"st 
place  that  his  soul  is  lost  to  culture  ;  that  he  is  morally  an  animal, 
and  more  than  likely  a  beast  and  a  demon  at  the  bottom  of  his 
soul. 

In  view  of  all  this,  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  gifted  but  unfor- 
tunate Poe  said  of  Tennyson,  over  fifty  years  ago,  that  he  was  not 
only  the  greatest  poet  of  our  time,  but  one  of  the  few  greatest 
poets  of  all  time.       This  is  and  always  has  been  precisely  my  own 


248  TUB  GLOBE. 

estimate  of  Tennyson.  The  early  pictures  of  him,  when  he  was 
beardless,  and  a  young  man,  when  all  the  fulness  of  youth  was  in 
the  forehead,  and  all  the  lines  of  tlie  mouth,  eyes  and  head  were 
us  Phideas'  marbles  chiseled,  clear  and  sharp  and  clean,  shows 
that  he  had  the  completest  head  and  the  most  perfect  face  in  all 
England  at  that  age.  Then,  as  the  disappointments  and  jealousies 
of  life  smote  him,  and  as  the  beard  grew,  and  the  temples  shrank 
a  little  by  the  wear  and  tear  of  years,  the  lines  of  the  lips  closed 
and  hardened  a  little,  and  the  eyes  gave  up  their  dream  and  looked 
onward  to  the  work  that  was  before  him,  the  face  took  the 
settled,  mature  and  grave  expression  that  all  the  world  knows. 

It  was  this  expression  that  the  poor  humbug  Whitman  tried  to 
imitate  Avhile  he  was  publishing  his  untamed,  uncultured  and 
long-winded  stuff  that  would-be  critics  of  later  years  called  poetry. 
So  by  the  study  of  physiognomy,  of  which  I  simply  give  touches 
in  the  article  on  human  faces  in  this  number — and  which  has  been 
a  life-long  study  with  me,  I  know  that  Tennyson  was,  in  fact,  the 
greatest,  the  completest  man  in  all  England  in  his  day. 

He  had  not  the  great  intellectual  strength  of  Carlyle  ;  he  had 
not  the  conquered  triumphant  spiritual  power  of  Manning  or 
Newman,  but  he  had  a  completer  human  head,  as  Shakespeare  had 
before  them  all,  and  he  had  conquered  an  art  of  poetic  expression, 
that  was,  and  that  will  long  remain,  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the 
English  speech  of  all  the  ages  of  mankind.  It  was  this  that  all 
would-be  poets  tried  to  imitate  from  Pekin  to  Dublin;  from  Bos- 
ton to  San  Francisco,  and  all  over  the  world,  and  with  so  much 
success  that  after  a  while  mere  book  reviewers  found  themselves 
making  sport  of  Tennyson  and  praising  his  imitators  as  if  they 
were  the  real  children  of  God  and  of  Song,  until  he  himself  had  to 
say  with  measured  scorn  : 

"And  DOW  again  they  call  the  flower  a  weed." 

Such  is  life.  We  poison  our  Socrates,  crucify  our  Lord,  slay  his 
apostles,  thinking  we  are  doing  God  service  ;  make  sport  of  the 
souls  that  die  daily  unto  sin  and  lust  to  make  life  beautiful  for 
us,  and  feel  imposed  upon  if  we  are  asked  to  pay  a  fair  price  for 
their  poems  or  their  prose. 

We  choose  Ingersoll  rather,  and  call  ourselves  cultured  scien- 
tists, liberals,  and  what  not,  while  we  are  the  merest  sweepings 
of  the  gutters  of  hell. 


TENNYSON  AND  WUITTIER.  249 

It  would  be  an  easy  and  a  loving  task  to  quote  page  after  page 
of  those  beautiful  verses  that  have  become  household  words  in  all 
the  refined  homes  of  Christendom.  I  shall  forego  the  pleasure. 
Never  since  English  art  took  upon  its  lips  the  language  of  Chaucer, 
Shakespeare  and  Milton,  has  any  man  crowded  so  much  soul  into  a 
few  English  words  or  covered  such  prairies  of  English  speech  with 
the  daintiest  tints  of  heaven  and  the  flowers. 

It  seems  to  me  that  Tennyson  never  loved  the  sea,  never  swam 
in  it,  brooded  over  it,  felt  all  its  unutterable  undertones,  impulses, 
voices,  shadows,  monitions,  wooings,  sighings  and  ragings,  as  Swin- 
burne has  felt  them;  but  not  even  Swinburne  or  Shakespeare  ever 
crowded  so  much  of  human  emotion,  so  much  might  and  majesty 
and  yet  impotence  of  the  sea  into  so  few  lines  as  Tennyson  has 
done  in  the  ever  memorable — 

Break,  break,  break, 

Ou  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O,  Sea  ! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 

The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 

O,  well  for  the  fisherman's  boy 

That  he  shouts  with  his  sister  at  play  ! 
O,  well  for  the  sailor  lad, 

Tbat  he  sings  in  his  boat  in  the  bay  ! 

And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  their  haven  under  the  hill ! 
But,  O,  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand. 

And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  ttill  ! 

Break,  break,  break 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  O,  Sea  ! 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 

Will  never  come  back  to  me. 

And  it  all  looks  so  simple,  so  easy,  reads  as  if  he  might  have  gone 
on  doing  like  that  hour  after  hour  all  his  life,  or  better,  and  as  if 
any  school  girl  or  school  boy  could  do  as  well  anywhere  any  time, 
and  as  often  as  he  or  she  pleased.  My  friends,  that  is  the  beauty, 
and  mystery  and  glory  of  all  highest  art.  But  try  it.  And  in 
advance,  I  tell  you  that  to  create  not  to  imitate;  but  to  create 
work  of  that  kind  takes  and  exhausts  more  human  power  than 
you  have  in  all  the  base-ball  and  foot-ball  college  teams  of  modern 
Christendom.  It  is  the  simplicity  and  the  intensity  and  the  sin- 
cerity of  all  art,  as  I  have  been  trying  to  teach  these  many  years, 
and  as  my  good  friend  Mr.  Harte  is  now  trying  to  teach   in   that 


250  THE  GLOBE. 

least  sincere  and  most  artificial  of  all  modern  cities,  Boston,  it  is 
the  simplicity,  intensity  and  sincerety  of  all  art  that  make  it  true 
and  that  are  its  crown  and  glory. 

Whitman  mistook  the  grotesque  haranguings  of  a  clownish 
libertine  for  art  and  poetry,  and  there  are  lots  of  fool  critics  that 
do  not  know  any  better. 

Wordsworth  was  the  master  of  simplicity  in  English  poetry  ; 
and  his  work  to-day  is  as  fresh  as  on  the  day  it  was  born. 

Dryden  and  the  classic  writers  were  all  modern  artists. 

Shakespeare  struck  straight  out  from  the  soul  of  him  as  steam 
flies  from  an  overful  locomotive,  or  as  rain  falls  from  the  bursting 
clouds  of  heaven.  Only  fools  talk  of  art  for  art's  sake.  Life  is  art, 
probe  it,  touch  it,  and  your  hand  trembles  with  a  power  that 
■wields  the  stars. 

Beauty  is  art,  love  it,  and  your  words  will  soon  take  on  wings  ; 
but  the  angel  neither  knows  nor  loves  a  loveless  mechanic  souL 
Mere  imitators,  chaperons  and  apers  of  art  for  art's  sake  are  chat- 
tering in  all  the  dense  forests  of  the  world.  Be  a  man,  a  woman, 
pure  and  clean  of  soul,  first  of  all,  then  any  gifts  you  have  will 
shine  as  the  gifts  of  God.  The  Howells  and  the  James  and  the 
Holmes  of  art  are  the  laughing  stock  of  all  chosen  souls. 

Lay  down  thy  Dryden,  thy  Pope  ;  again  take  up  thy  Shakes- 
peare, and  be  a  man. 

Alfred  Lord  Tennyson  carries  on  the  line  of  the  great  master 
poets  of  England.  From  Shakespeare  to  Wordsworth,  to  Browning 
to  Tennyson,  what  struggles  for  mastery  in  the  art  of  English 
poetry,  and  the  last  named,  the  Laureate,  the  petted,  the  honored, 
the  almost  worshiped  and  now  dead  Tennyson  was  well  worthy  of 
all  the  love  and  glory  the  English  speaking  races  have  poured  at  his 
feet  and  wreathed  around  his  head. 

The  early  and  most  human  aspects  of  Tennyson's  existence 
are  brought  out  in  Locksly  Hall,  and  a  few  minor  poems  of  per- 
sonal pique  with  men  infinitely  inferior  to  himself  and  utterly 
unworthy  even  of  his  scorn. 

In  the  former  poem  he  could  still  say  of  some  one  woman — 
young  and  beautiful  if  false  as  night — "  All  the  currents  of  my 
being  set  to  thee.'*  But  ere  long  that  dream  was  conquered  and 
left  behind,  and  plainly  domestic  love  took  on  the  shape  of  duty, 
faithfully  performed  till  death.  To  this  earlier  period  belong  also 
those  hellish  doubts  of  divine  truth,  which  came  overall  England 


TENNTSON  AND  WUITTIRR,  251 

in  Tennyson's  early  maturity — like  troops  of  countless  unseen 
demons  out  of  the  heart  of  hell. 

From  that  time  to  this  the  victims  of  these  demons  have  called 
themselves  scientists  and  liberals,  led  by  the  Spencers,  the  Huxleys 
and  Darwins ;  until,  at  least  in  the  case  of  Spencer  and 
Darwin,  the  leaders  themselves  fled  for  refuge  to  some  deeper 
thoughts  of  God.  But  the  Buckles  and  the  Leweses  and  the 
Mills  and  their  poor  hoodwinked  women  died  of  the  gangrene  that 
tried  to  creep  over  the  limbs  of  Tennyson,  as  evinced  in  the  poem 
of  *'  The  Two  Voices  "  reviewed  by  me  in  the  Globe  No.  9. 

Thank  heaven,  however,  this  beautif  ulest  poet  of  ihe  century,  this 
idol  of  English  culture,  fought  the  demon  hand  to  hand  till  the 

".Still  small  voice" 

of  the  Spirit  of  Truth  whispered  deeply  in  his  ear,  in  his  soul  : 

"  A  murmur,  be  of  better  cheer." 
And  henceforth  he  could  see  the  people  go  to  their  Sunday  wor- 
ship without  sneering,  could  even  go  along  with  them  himself 
with  that  humility  characteristic  of  all  great  souls,  could  himself 
worship  as  purely  and  perfectly  as  possible  under  the  guidance  and 
shadow  of  a  broken  branch  of  the  Tree  of  Life. 

After  this  period  of  doubt,  and  of  the  Two  Voices;  and  after  the 
great  affliction  which  robbed  him  of  his  friend  Hallam,  and  the 
one  manly  love  of  man  for  man  that  sent  all  his  emotions  into 
darkness,  there  came  those  marvellously  clear  and  unutterably 
beautiful  poems  that  form  the  group  known  as  In  Memoriam, 
which  seem  to  shine  and  shine  as  stars  from  heaven,  as  new  reve- 
lations of  the  possibilities  of  English  faith,  English  speech  and 
English  human  souls. 

"And  what  delights  can  equal  those 
That  stir  the  spirit's  inner  deeps, 
When  one  that  loves  but  knows  not  reaps 
A  truth  from  one  that  loves  and  knows." 

And  what  modern  soul,  battling  with  sin  and  doubt  and  pas- 
sion, and  a  thousand  temptations  has  not  been  aided  by 

"I  hold  it  true  with  him  who  sings 
To  our  clear  harp  of  divers  tones; 
That  men  may  rise  on  stepping  stones, 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

So  the  poem  moves  on,  so  the  life  moved  on  till 
"The  chamel  houses  of  the  dead" 


252  THE  GLOBE. 

had  to  be  content  with-  the  regrets,  the  conquered  weakness  of 
this  kingly  soul,  while  he  himself — as  best  he  could — under  the 
guidance  of  the  English  Church  went  on  to  Christmas  days  and 
New  Years  of  victory  to 

"Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new; 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

And  so  shall  it  be,  my  friends,  till  the  master  minds  of  all  this 

world  no  less  than  the  humble,  the  obscure  and  the  poor  shall  have 

found 

•'The  Christ  that  is  to  be." 

This  is  a  very  poor  notice,  hardly  a  sketch  in  faintest  outline  of 
a  life  so  full  of  beauty  and  victory  and  song  that  one  might  go  on 
forever  sifting  its  beauties  and  singing  its  songs  as  among  the 
sweetest  pleasures  and  worships  of  the  soul. 

I  have  not  deemed  it  worth  while  in  this  notice,  to  give  even  the 
barest  outline  of  the  historic  data  of  Tennyson's  birth  and  life. 
It  is  simply  a  little  tribute  to  the  dead  that  dies  not  within  us;  for 
of  all  men,  it  can  be  supremely  said  of  great  poets,  that 
"Their  works  do  follow  them." 

And  I  have  seen  nothing  more  beautiful  in  the  newspaper 
accounts  of  Tennyson  than  this,  that  though  dead,  we  do  not 
miss  him,  for  his  poems  and  his  presence  have  so  permeated  our 
lives,  our  very  atmosphere,  that  he  seems  to  be  with  us  still. 

After  this  I  feel  a  reluctance  to  speak  of  Whittier.  Yet,  I  have 
loved  him  ;  none  more  dearly,  I  think,  these  last  thirty  years:  a 
good,  limited,  circumscribed,  provincial,  charitable,  gifted,  New 
England  Quaker  man  ;  whose  soul  and  whose  ears,  spite  of  the 
poor  limitation  of  his  sect,  and  spite  of  the  sharp  worldliness  of  New 
England  life,  did  manage  to  feel  and  live  for  the  poetic  in  this 
world  and  to  sing  many  beautiful  songs.  I  think  that  Whittier 
was  more  gifted  even  than  Longfellow,  and  he  is,  to  my  mind,  head 
and  shoulders  above  such  mere  versifiers  as  Lowell  and  Holmes,  not 
to  speak  of  the  younger  broods  of  New  England  poetic  cacklers. 

In  truth,  considering  his  Quaker  birth  and  bringing  up,  his 
ear  for  poetic  music  is  something  wonderful.  For  it  is  useless  to  try 
to  get  away  from  the  laws  of  nature,  my  friends.  If  your  forefathers 
spread  Calvinistic  lies  your  grandchildren  will  be  assinine,  braying 
Ingersolls.  If  your  grandfathers  fling  the  worshipers  of  art  out  of 
the  churches,  stifle  the  organs,  muffle  the  singers,  whitewash  the 
marble  statues  of  martyrs,  and  pluck  the  altars  of  their  adornments, 


TENNYSON  AND  WUITTIER.  253 

your  grandchildren  will,  many  of  tliem,  be  deaf  mutes,  without  ear 
or  sense  for  music,  and  their  poor  lean  souls  will  boas  ignorant  of  art 
as  of  true  worship  and  highest  virtue. 

My  friend,  Mr.  Harte,  may  scold  all  he  pleases  in  the  Globe  at 
the  injustice  of  the  past  and  present,  but  the  religious  and  social 
institutions  of  the  past  of  Christendom  have  created  ideals  of 
human  character  by  living  them  that  modern  democracy,  in  its 
gu  tter  robes  and  in  its  rude  iconoclasm  does  not  comprehend  and  can- 
not equal  while  it  holds  its  present  and  contemptible  lying  theories 
of  existence  and  of  justice  in  this  world. 

Whittier  was  a  good  man  and  a  gifted  poet,  spite  of  his 
ancestry  and  surroundings,  on  the  o.ne  hand,  and  on  the  other,  as 
slavery  and  anti-slavery  became  the  great  moral  issue  in  his  early 
days,  and  as  his  religion,  whatever  else  it  lacked,  had  completely 
developed  the  moral  sense  on  the  side  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
and  was  away  ahead  of  the  average  orthodoxy  and  heterodoxy  of 
his  day  on  the  points  of  charity  and  human  rights,  his  religion 
helped  him  mightily  in  the  first  and  to  the  latest  utterances  of 
his  gifted  and  poetic  soul. 

Whittier,  however,  was  never  an  original,  creative  poet  like  Poe, 
or  Realf,  and  in  spite  of  the  smoothness  of  his  verses-he  was  never  as 
cultured  or  finished  a  poet  as  Longfellow,  and  Longfellow,  even,  as 
you  will  find  if  you  study  him  well,  was  crude  and  commonplace 
and  unfinished,  even  in  style  and  structure  as  well  as  immeasur- 
ably inferior  in  thought  and  power  to  Alfred  Tennyson. 

Hence  I  said  that  I  shrank  from  speaking  of  Whittier  by  the 
side  of  Tennyson.  It  is  like  sending  a  very  nice  and  a  very 
superior  country  boy,  well  dressed,  but  conscious  of  his  clothes, 
to  a  city  party  in  company  with  a  scion  of  wealth  and  fashion 
just  from  the  university  and  with  all,  a  man  infinitely  superior  to 
the  country  boy  in  the  simplest  elements  of  intellectual  and  moral 
power. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  Alfred 
Lord  Tennyson  and  John  G.  Whittier.  If  you  have  any  virtue, 
any  intellect,  any  refinement  of  soul,  any  love  of  truth,  of  culture, 
of  the  sweetest  and  simplest  as  well  as  of  highest  and  purest  art,  you 
will  love  these  two  gentlemen  as  long  as  you  live,  but  when  you 
have  mastered  the  master  faces  of  all  ages  you  will  see  that  the 
one  is  the  exponent  of  an  immature,  crude,  raw,  material,  but  hopeful 
and  aggressive  civilization,  and   the  other  the  life  fruitage  of,  all 


2rA  THE  OLOBE. 

tilings  considered,  the-  richest,  fullest,  completest,  broadest  and 
most  cultured  civilization  that  the  white  races  have   ever  attained. 

Nothing  could  well  be  more  Whittieresque  even  of  his  maturer 
life  than  certain  portions  of  his  first  two  published  poems,  and  yet 
nothing  could  be  more  suggestive  of  Burns  and  Moore  on  the  one 
hand  and  of  Wordsworth  on  the  other. 

I  do  not  say  that  Whittier  sat  down,  like  the  common  hacks  of 
these  days,  and  deliberately  tried,  either  in  earnest  or  for  fun,  to 
imitate  Burns  or  Wordsworth  in  these  poems  ;  but  only  this, 
that  plainly  those  poets  and  their  poems  suggested  alike  the  meas- 
ure, the  tone,  the  style  of  thought,  and,  in  a  word,  served  as  text 
and  inspiration  for  the  New  England  Quaker  young  man,  and  that 
neither  the  meaning  nor  the  meter  was  original  with  Whittier. 
The  poems,  in  a  word,  were  echoes,  caught  by  a  sensitive  ear  and 
reproduced  in  sweet  and  simple  loyalty  of  recognition  by  a  sensitive 
and  gifted  spirit.  This,  indeed,  is  true  of  the  whole  school  of 
so-called  New  England  poets.  They  were  all,  and  they  will  remain, 
only  American  echoes  of  the  superior  poems  of  superior  English 
souls.  I  am  well  aware  that  this  is  no  new  discovery.  But  it  is 
new  to  have  it  put  so  plainly  in  these  days. 

Whitman  and  the  mere  wild-cat  poets  have  always  charged  that 
the  New  England  men  were  simply  English  poets  over  again.  Alas, 
if  they  had  been  that  they  had  done  well,  but  they  were  infinitely 
less  than  that,  and  yet  they  are  so  superior  to  Whitman  and  the 
wild-cats  that  their  music  has  been  long  accepted  as  the  best  this 
country  has  yet  produced.  I  give  here  the  first  verse  of  each  of 
Whittier's  first  two  published  poems  and  if  you  can  forget  for  a 
moment  that  Whittier  wrote  them  you  will  readily  hear  Moore, 
Burns  and  Wordsworth  over  again,  but  without  the  native  quality 
of  any  one  of  the  three,  and  with  a  fearful  evidence  of  bathos 
toward  the  end  of  each  stanza. 

THE  EXILE'S  DEPARTURE. 

Fond  scenes,  which  delighted  my  youthful  existence, 

With  feelings  of  sorrow  I  bid  ye  adieu — 
A  lasting  adieu  !  for  now,  dim  in  the  distance, 

The  shores  of  Hibernia  recede  from  my  view. 
Farewell  to  the  cliffs,  tempest-beaten  and  grey. 

Which  guard  the  lov'd  shores  of  my  own  native  land  ; 
Farewell  to  the  village  and  saiUshadow'd  bay. 

The  forest  crown'd  hill  and  the  water-wash'd  strand. 


TEIflfTSOIf  AND    WHITTIER.  256 

THE  DEITY. 
1  Kings,  xix  chapt.  ii  v. 
*         *         *         *       The  prophet  stood 
On  the  dark  mount,  and  saw  the  temptest  cloud 
Pour  the  fierce  whirlwind  from  its  dark  reservoir 
Of  congregated  gloom.    The  mountain  oak, 
Torn  from  the  earth,  heav'd  high  its  roots  where  once 
Its  branches  waved.    Tbe  fir-tree's  shapely  form. 
Smote  by  the  tempest,  lash'd  the  mountain's  side. 
— Yet,  calm  in  conscious  purity,  the  seer 
Beheld  the  scene  of  desolation — for 
Th'  Eternal  Spirit  mov'd  not  in  the  storm  ! 
It  is  a  little  singular,  too,  that  while  Whittier  sixty  years  ago  and 
more  had  adopted  the  hand-writing  that  had  became  almost  univer- 
sal among  the  so-called  literary  men  of  this  country,  Tennyson  was 
as  individual  and  original  in  his  penmanship    as  he  was  in  his 
soul  and  in  his  poetry. 

A  man  is  either  original  all  over,  or  an  ape  all  over.  The  same 
lines  of  fate  mark  the  caste  of  the  spirit,  the  areas  of  the  life  and 
the  lines  of  the  forehead  as  mark  the  flow  of  thought  in  the  char- 
acters of  the  written  page.  Some  time  I  will  write  an  article  on 
character  in  penmanship;  and  I  am  quite  willing  to  announce  it  in 
advance,  knowing  that,  though  the  boys  may  be  very  glad  of  the 
theme,  they  have  not  worked  the  mine  and  therefore  that  the  true 
ore  of  the  company  will  remain  in  my  hands.  Emerson  always 
had  character  enough  to  write  like  a  man. 

After  these  earlier  tentative  effects  of  unconscious  imitation, 
Whittier  came  to  the  broader  fields  of  sentiment  as  in  Maud  Mul- 
ler,  and  to  the  deeply  religious  sentiment  as  in  the  poem  begin- 
ning— 

"  Another  hand  is  beckoning  us, 

Another  call  is  given. 
And  glows  once  more  with  angel  steps, 
The  path  which  reaches  heaven." 

Even  in  Maud  Muller  we  come  to  the — 

"  Ah,  well !  for  us  all  some  sweet  hope  lies. 
Deeply  buried  from  human  eyes  ; 

And  in  the  hereafter  angels  may 
Roll  the  stone  from  its  grave  away." 

Along  with  this  broader  awakening  to  the  truer  themes  of 
poetry  came  the  Quaker  awakening  to  the  hellish  crime  of  African- 
American  slavery. 


356  THE  GLOBE. 

All  the  world  knows  that  the  Quakersand  the  Covenanter  Pres- 
byterians were  the  van  guards  of  modern  Prostestantism  against 
this  now  almost  forgotten  shadow  of  hell  that  hung  like  a  pall  of 
clouds  over  the  conscience  and  life  of  this  nation  for  more  than  a 
hundred  years  ;  and  Whittier  was  among  the  first  of  those  young 
and  gifted  souls  who  gave  tongue  and  pen  and  body  and  soul  to  the 
freeing  of  the  oppressed  in  this  land. 

I  am  not  saying  it  was  on  the  whole  a  good  thing  for  the  negro 
to  be  freed.  As  soon  as  I  could  think  I  was  myself  an  abolishion- 
ist,  and  1  cannot  go  back  upon  that  record,  but  when  I  treat  the 
negro  problem  in  these  pages  I  have  many  facts  to  give  that  look 
as  if  it  was  only  a  question  whether  we  were  to  keep  the  negro  alive 
in  this  land  by  the  kindly  institution  of  slavery  or  whether  we 
were  to  gradually  crowd  him  to  the  wall  and  disintegrate  him  by 
the  pressures  and  frictions  of  so-called  American  freedom. 

Whittier,  however,  like  all  the  whole  hearted  young  men  of  his 
day,  gave  his  best  powers  to  his  poems  for  the  freeing  of  the 
slaves.  They  are  now  out  of  date  and  I  have  no  space  to  quote 
them  here  ;  but  they  remain  the  noblest  and  strongest  words  that 
were  ever  uttered  by  an  American  on  the  great  moral  issue  of  the 
human  soul.  Phillips,  of  course,  is  the  great  master  prophet  of 
freedom  in  this  land,  in  truth,  by  all  odds  the  greatest  American 
ever  born,  but  Whittier  was  in  his  way  just  as  exalted  on  this 
theme,  and  what  those  more  circumspect  and  very  nice  gentlemen, 
Mr.  Lowell  and  Mr.  Holmes  and  Mr.  Curtis,  had  to  say  or  sing 
thereon  were  merely  a  faint  refrain  of  the  chorus  as  in  the 
ballet  of  some  modern  famous  opera.  But  when  the  prima  donnas 
are  gone  the  boys  must  treat  the  ballet-girls  to  flowers  and  wine  I 
The  poor  girls  and  the  poor  boys  ! 

On  the  whole,  Whittier  was  at  his  best  in  his  so-called  religious 
poems  and  in  "  Snow  Bound." 

In  modern  hymnology,  below  the  highest  grade  such  as 
Newman's — 

"  Lead,  Kindly  Light"  ; 

And  such  hymns  as — 

"  Nearer  my  God  to  Thee, " 
"  Rock  of  Ages," 
And— 

"  As  down  in  th8  sunless  retreats  of  the  ocean 
Sweet  flowers  are  springing  no  mortal  can  see." 


TENNYSOI^  AND   WJHTTIEJt.  257 

— I  say,  next  below  this  grade,  there  is  nothing  finer  than  Whit- 
tier's — 

"The  harp  at  nature's  advent  strung 
Has  never  ceased  to  play; 
The  songs  the  sons  of  morning  sung 
Have  never  died  away. 

And  prayer  is  made  and  praise  is  given 

By  all  things  near  and  far  ; 
The  ocean  looketh  up  to  heaven 

And  mirrors  every  star. 

The  green  earth  sends  her  incense  up, 

From  many  a  mountain  shrine, 
From  folded  leaf  and  dewy  cup 

She  pours  her  sacred  wine." 

So  the  thoughts,  the  doctrines,  the  practices  of  the  dear  Mother 
Church,  the  true  resting  place  of  all  Christian  souls,  had  found  a 
lodgement  in  the  heart  of  this  dear  poet,  and  spite  of  his  Quaker- 
isms he  used  the  symbolism  of  the  Catholic  altar  to  teach  his 
highest  lessons  of  the  poetry  and  prose  of  nature  and  of  the 
human  soul. 

A  chosen  and  gifted  spirit,  as  we  said,  and  one  who  only  needed 
that  peace  and  that  joy  which  come  alone  from  -an  unquestioning 
acceptance  of  the  whole  Gospel  of  Christ  and  His  Church  to  have 
made  him  as  full  of  joy  as  he  was  full  of  hope ;  but  we  must  take 
the  best  that  God  can  make  out  of  the  broken  fragments  of  the 
Protestantism  of  the  ages,  and  try  ourselves  to  be  better  and 
brighter  and  truer  men. 

Finally,  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  since  Snow  Bound  was  fin- 
ished and  published  that  it  was  Whittier's  most  original,  most  nat- 
ural and  most  beautiful  poem. 

It  takes  the  frozen,  hard,  limited,  snow-hid  New  England 
farm  house,  out  of  which  have  come  those  streams  of  energy  now 
peopling  this  broad  land,  takes  in  a  Avord,  this  one  phase  of  human 
life,  and  almost  the  only  one  that  he  was  intimately  familiar  with, 
and  weaving  about  the  cold  picture  wreath  after  wreath  of  beauti- 
ful domestic  flowers  of  affection  and  memory,  he  turns  the  whole 
scene  into  a  living,  loving  home-life,  with  its  cultured  thoughts, 
its  deep  questionings  and  its  sturdy  courage,  if  not  its  immortal 
rest;  and  I  fancy  that  of  all  the  truly  American  poems  yet  written 
I  would  rather  have  written  Snow  Bound  than  any  other. 


/ 


258  TUE  OLOBE. 

And  spite  of  all  creeds  and  their  limitations  my  soul  seems 
to  say  in  parting,  to  this  dear,  chosen,  arisen  soul : 

"  And  when  the  sunset  gates  unbar 
Shall  I  not  see  thee  waiting  stand, 
And  white  against  the  evening  star 

The  welcome  of  thy  beckoning  hand  ?  " 

I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  apologizing  for  my  work,  because  I 
usually  give  so  much  time  to  its  careful  preparation  that  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  done  somewhere  near  the  best  that  I  could  do  ;  but  this 
article,  and,  indeed,  all  the  new  articles  in  this  number  of  the 
Globe,  have  been  written  in  my  new  Chicago  office,  in  the  midst 
of  many  urging  interruptions  and  a  constant  stream  of  unexpected 
business  cares. 

Even  the  quotations  in  this  article  are  from  memory,  without 
stopping  to  hunt  up  books  to  verify  my  quotations,  and  if  here  and 
there  a  word  is  not  exactly  in  accordance  with  the  latest  editions 
the  reader  may  know  that  I  have  given  the  poems  to  him  or  to  her 
as  they  have  long  sung  themselves  in  my  own  soul. 

W.  H.  Thorke. 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  AND  LITERATURE. 


The  World  Problem  is  the  Problem  of  Justice.  It  is  not  a  new 
problem,  but  it  seems  so  to  poor  blind  political  economists,  legisla- 
tors, preachers  of  fashionable  gospels  and  amusers,  who  are  alarmed 
at  seeing  its  vague  outlines  swell  out  into  a  definite,  gigantic  por- 
tent. They  have  so  long  bought  bodies  and  souls  for  pence,  they 
have  so  long  appeased  the  cry  for  bread  and  God's  justice  with 
stones,  organized  charities  and  relief  committees,  that  they  cannot 
but  think  that  this  is  a  new  madness  seizing  their  usually  shadowy 
monster,  giving  it  a  new  and  terrible  life  and  power  of  vision.  But 
it  is  the  old,  old  problem.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  the  first 
and  greatest  epitome  of  the  World  Problem.  It  has  been  reduced 
to  a  dogma,  and  is  regarded  as  a  Divine  idealism  wholly  imprac- 
ticable in  this  world — God's  world .  It  is  a  problem  that  from 
Christ's  day  to  our  own  has  had  no  place  in  practical  politics,  and 
which  can  scarcely  be  said  at  any  time  to  have  entered  into  the 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  A2fD  LITERATURE.  259 

vital  spirit  of  any  great  religious  organization  ;  although  it  has 
undoubtedly  influenced  and  dominated  rare  individuals  in  and  out 
of  them.  As  u  matter  of  fact,  religious  bodies  have  usually  shirked 
any  genuine  consideration  of  the  guestion,  assuming  that  it  came 
without  the  spiritual  sphere,  and  have  occupied  themselves  with 
the  learned  exposition  of  theological  fog.  The  trouble  is,  that 
religion  and  vast  establishments  are  seldom  compatible  ;  religion 
is  a  divine  intuition — a  reality,  having  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
theological  fog ;  and  establishments  are  supported  by  the  illusion  of 
privilege  and  money,  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  religion.  The 
world's  true  ministers  do  not  seek  to  pour  God's  truth  through  the 
filtering  vessels  of  the  rich  and  powerful.  The  churches  are  on  an 
entirely  wrong  basis;  they  try  to  reconcile  God's  law  of  love  with 
the  laws  of  a  timocracy;  they  endeavor  to  substitute  charity  and 
confession  of  sin  for  Jtistice.  A  sin  confessed  should  be  a  sin 
remedied,  or  the  confession  is  a  mere  parody  of  prayer.  And  char- 
ity (of  the  false  eleemosynary  kind)  is  nothing  more  than  iniquity, 
and  the  meditation  of  further  iniquity; — it  is  a  tampering  with 
the  conscience  in  the  individual  and  in  the  mass;  it  is  a  confession 
and  mock  repentance;  it  is  the  most  disgusting  and  noxious  of 
hypocricies;  it  is  pitting  poor  worldly  cunning  against  God's  eter- 
nal balance;  it  is  a  weak,  blasphemous  attempt  to  secure  the  com- 
forts of  existence  and  outwit  the  almighty.  It  is  one  of  the  sad- 
dest and  most  ludicrous  occupations  that  men  engage  in.  It  does 
not  even  deceive  thinking  men.  Before  we  can  obtain  justice  we 
must  utterly  root  out  the  disgraceful  iniquity  of  the  practice  of 
so-called  philanthropy.  We  can  best  reverence  God  by  reverenc- 
ing our  fellows,  and  "philanthropy"  can  only  become  possible  and 
flourish  upon  the  perpetuation  of  oppression  and  misery  and  ha- 
tred. There  is  no  divine  love  in  "philanthropy,"  only  a  gross 
assumption  of  superiority  and  contempt.  Opulence  dispensing 
moneys  to  institutions  should  have  no  monopoly  of  this  word 
"philanthropy."  The  word  has  somehow  lost  its  meaning;  it  does 
not  apply  to  bountiful  highwaymanr}'.  We  have  perverted  the 
word  to  a  base  use,  and  made  it  a  synonym  for  a  contemptible  sys- 
tem of  subsidy  and  self-glorification.  It  means  "love  of  mankind"; 
not  partial  restitution,  stewardship,  or  "paying  the  piper";  and 
it  would  be  well  if  the  churchss  and  society  remembered  that  fact. 
Christ  was  a  philanthrophist.  Dives  can  never  be,  and  remain 
dives.    A  man  who  destroys  young  girls  pays  his  procuress,  and 


260  THE  GLOBE. 

the  man  who  preys  upon  mankind  relieves  certain  individuals,  or 
causes  churches  and  asylums  to  be  built  for  general  relief  of  all 
sorts;  and  so  both  "philanthropists"  circulate  money,  pay  the 
piper,  and  absolve  their  consciences.  Christ  did  not  preach  "phi- 
lanthropy " — distortion,  injustice  and  partial  restitution  for 
general  relief ;  this  does  not  remedy  the  specific  wrong.  The 
Pharisees  contributed  largely  to  "charities,*'  but  they  were  alto- 
gether destitute  of  charity.  Wholesale  benevolence  can  never 
obliterate  one  item  of  retail  wrong.  This  sort  of  philanthropy 
was  not  a  thing  unknown  to  Christ,  but  he  condemned  it  by 
preaching  Justice.  This  is  the  World  Problem;  and  it  is  a  prob- 
lem that  has  racked  and  worn  every  great  and  truly  religious  na- 
ture, from  the  early  philosophers  to  our  day,  and  which, 
at  length,  beneath  all  practical  politics  and  conventional 
literature,  all  of  which  regard  it  as  contraband,  danger- 
ous and  vulgar,  is  forcing  itself  upon  the  minds  of 
men  in  every  quarter  of  the  civilized  world — in  every  quarter  of 
the  Western  World,  at  least.  In  China  and  India,  highly  civil- 
ized countries,  where  the  pendulum  of  opinion  on  such  matters 
moves  even  more  slowly  than  in  Europe  and  America,  it  is  doubt- 
less an  undreamed-of  force.  The  new  spirit  in  Japan  makes 
its  existence  possible  there  in  some  form  in  the  next  century.  But 
in  our  Western  world  it  is  disturbing  the  old  ideals  of  society  and 
literature,  and  causing  trepidation  in  the  churches.  They  object 
to  a  perfectly  practicable  philosophy;  and  diplomatically  disapprove 
of  it  under  many  pious  disguises,  while  approving  of  the  principle 
and  spirit  that  impels  it.  "  Ye  are  all  children  of  God,  rich  and 
poor  alike,'*  they  say,  "  but  do  not  disturb  the  established  order 
of  things.  Such  a  proceeding  would  destroy  the  churches.*'  Suppos- 
ing it  did,  it  is  reasonable  to  doubt  whether  that  would  destroy 
religion,  whether  the  obliteration  of  all  human  institutions  would 
destroy  God.  Jus^  as  surely  as  men  perpetuate  their  kind  and 
each  generation  has  a  new  and  distinctive  life,  by  the  same  law, 
institutions  grow  out  of  each  other,  and  each  contributes  some- 
thing to  the  sum  of  knowledge  of  mankind,  but  no  one  is  imbued 
with  the  whole  truth.  All  truth  is  relative,  and  institutions,  like 
apples  in  an  orchard,  should  be  plucked  in  due  season,  for  the 
world,  although  it  may  long  cherish  and  need  the  tree,  cannot  eat 
the  apples  that  were  fresh  and  blooming  decades  ago.  If  the 
apples  are  not  plucked,  they  will  drop  naturally  with  decay.     It  is 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  AND  LITERATURE.  261 

the  same  with  ideas  as  with  the  race  ;  ideas  and  men  are  always 
merging  into  the  new  generation.  Monarchy  in  due  course  natur- 
ally gave  birth  to  democracy,  not  without  considerable  labor,  of 
course  ;  and  democracy  with  not  a  little  less  pain  will  in  due  time 
bring  forth  something  better.  It  is  very  necessary  to  point  out  at 
this  time  and  in  these  United  States  that  although  universal 
democracy  brings  us  nearer  perhaps  to  the  threshold  of  the  world 
problem,  it  is  by  no  means  a  solution  of  it.  In  democracy  we  have 
gained  a  theory,  and  not  a  condition. 

Only  the  blind  can  be  content  with  our  democracy,  for,  to  begin 
with,  it  is  democracy  in  name  only — a  democracy  which  virtually 
denies  the  obligations  of  the  individual  to  the  community,  and  the 
reciprocative  obligations  of  the  community  to  the  individual.  The 
"World  Problemis  not  assuredly  cured  with  any  democratic  plaster — 
or  not  until  the  ingredients  of  it  are  a  little  more  substantial  than 
at  present.  The  problem  goes  deeper  than  politics,  into  the  very 
traditions  and  instincts  (instincts  acquired  and  handed  down  by 
savage  ancestors)  of  the  race.  In  its  various  manifestations,  often 
apparently  opposed,  but  really  working  to  one  end,  it  is  the 
enforcement  of  a  great  spiritual  truth  ;  a  call  to  manhood ; 
an  awakening  of  the  conscience  of  mankind  ;  a  demand, 
in  the  name  of  God,  that  men  professing  to  believe  in  the  teach- 
ings, and  In  the  Divinity  of  Christ,  should  cease  to  pollute  their 
souls  with  gains  and  pleasures  derived  from  the  degradation  of 
Christ's  brethren.  It  is  called  by  many  names,  derided  out  of 
practical  politics,  tabooed  in  the  pulpit,  joked  out  of  the  newspa- 
pers— but  what  is  actually  becoming  the  great  shadow  over  our  civil- 
ization, threatening  its  very  foundations,  the  giant  unrest  which 
all  classes  feel  stirring  in  society,  let  them  dine,  talk,  laugh  and 
write  as  they  will — is  this  alone,  the  problem  of  Absolute  Justice. 
In  a  more  unsettled  state  of  society  the  necessity  of  justice  was 
never  apparent,  and  the  masses,  ignorant,  degraded,  superstitions 
and  credulous,  never  investigated  that  ancient  lie — the  law  of 
Meum  et  Tuum.  The  more  general  diffusion  of  intelligence,  the 
lifting  of  the  mists  of  religious  superstition,  and  the  consequent 
decline  of  monarchical  and  aristocratical  power,  are  slowly  chang- 
ing all  this.  Only  the  most  stupendous  ignorance  of  God's  laws 
and  the  mystery  of  life  can  impel  men  to  worship  titles  and  hered- 
itary classes  and  money.  It  is  the  keener  perception  of  religion, 
which  is  taking  hold  of  the  leaders  of   men,   that  is   producing 


263  THE  GLOBE. 

the  unrest  in  modern  society.  It  is  not  the  problem  of  Charity, 
Philanthropy,  Missions,  or  any  of  the  things  with  which  society 
perpetuates  wrong  and  secures  itself  in  its  power  by  throwing  a 
sop  to  Cerberus — it  is  the  problem  of  Justice.  We  have  not  yet 
found  a  solution  of  it — but  we  have  got  thus  far.  A  hundred  years 
ago  this  would  have  been  sacrilege  in  every  church  synod,  presby- 
tery and  convention,  and  rant  and  revolution  out  of  them;  to-day 
outside  of  politics  and  the  press,  every  man  admits  in  his  assent  or 
dissent  that  this  is  the  actual  problem,  sifted  down.  We  have  got 
to  the  point  where  we  can  discuss  the  question  of  the  difference 
between  statutory  and  social  justice,  and  God's  justice,  and  this  is 
a  great  deal.  It  will  take  centuries  before  the  world  comprehends 
more  than  the  theory  of  justice,  but  we  must  not  be  discour- 
aged by  the  discrepancy  between  theories  and  practice.  We  have 
all  the  traditions  of  centuries  of  selfishness  and  greed,  under  a 
thousand  chameleon  forms  to  oppose,  and  men  are  largely  made  by 
their  circumstances.  As  boys,  we  face  the  World  Problem  eager 
for  the  fight,  convinced  that  the  truth  must  prevail ;  as  men,  we 
are  glad  to  gain  the  slightest  recognition  of  the  truth  of  theories. 
To  those  who  quite  despair  of  the  future  of  these  United  States, 
because  of  the  survival  of  brutal  autocracy  here,  and  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  feudalism  of  the  dollar,  I  always  say  one  thing.  The 
United  States  is  the  only  nation  in  the  world  which  has  in  its  con- 
stitution the  words:  "  We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self-evident, 
that  all  men  are  created  equal;  that  they  are  possessed  of  certain 
inalienable  rights,  among  which  are  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of 
happiness."  Here  is  the  theory  admitted;  and  we  must  fight  for 
theories  and  for  their  maintenance,  and  although  we  must  not  be 
content  witii  mere  words,  we  must  perforce  not  despair  of  our 
achievement,  but  leave  performance  to  posterity  and  the  centuries. 
As  Whittier  says, 

"  Thus  with  somewhat  of  the  Seer, 
Must  the  moral  pioneer 
From  the  future  borrow  ; 
Clothe  the  waste  with  dreams  of  grain, 
And,  on  the  midnight's  sky  of  rain 
Paint  the  golden  morrow  ! " 

The  conscience  of  mankind  asserts  itself  more  slowly  than  the 
greed  of  mankind.  The  social  history  of  the  United  States  may 
seem  to  make  Jefferson's  words  a  travesty,  but  we  may  be  sure  that 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  AND  LITERATURE.  ,     263 

to  all  thoughtful  men  these  words  in  every  age  will  make  such 
history  a  travesty  upon  the  actual  and  eternal  material  destituiont 
of  mankind.  If  men  could  only  discover  that  from  birth  to  death 
they  are  all  bare,  all  beggars,  we  might  have  a  state  of  civilized 
society  in  which  there  would  be  no  beggars.  If  men  could  only 
learn  that  they  can  never  possess  anything,  these  poor  owners  who 
make  life  horrible  to  their  brethren  might  be  persuaded  to  share 
the  provision  of  God  for  them  and  the  myriads  to  come  after  them. 
But  so  few  men  realize  that  death  must  reap  them  in  due  time  ; 
that  for  us  there  is  no  earthly  to-morrow — we  live  only  in  the  fleet- 
ing hour.  It  is,  of  course,  well  that  men  should  not  be  conscious 
of  ever-impending  death.  The  first  hint  of  democracy  must  have 
come  from  the  thought  of  death.  Aristocracies  and  plutocracies 
and  the  mania  for  accumulating  and  owning  things  would  bo 
understandable  in  a  world  where  there  was  no  such  reconciling 
power  as  death,  or  in  a  world  in  which  death  came  to  all  at  some 
given  moment,  and  the  sun  went  out  forever.  But  in  this  world  in 
which  there  is  a  sufficiency  for  all,  our  intense  and  savage  game 
for  prizes  that  are  not  as  wonderful  as  the  pebbles  on  the  seashore, 
and  which  we  cannot  possibly  o?yw  does  seem  a  ludicrous  tragedy  in 
the  light  of  death.  For  death  every  day  preaches  the  gospel  of 
love ;  the  irrevocablenesses  of  evil.  It  is  strange  that  men  possess- 
ing only  one  thing,  life,  are  so  apt  to  hazard  and  to  sacrifice  it  for 
things  they  can  never  possess. 

Our  civilization  is  an  irony  upon  the  Christianity  of  every 
nation  in  Christendom.  I  was  about  to  say  in  the  civilized  world, 
but  that  would  not  be  correct,  for  Christendom  does  not  comprise 
all  the  civilized  nations,  and  it  is  important  that  people  should 
appreciate  that  there  is  a  great  gulf  between  civilization  and  a 
common  apprehension  of  ethical  values.  If  one  doubts  this  state- 
ment, he  had  better  frequent  Wall  street  for  a  week  and  become 
reconciled  to  the  truth  of  it.  It  is  a  too  common  error  to  confound 
Christianity  and  civilization  as  synonyms  of  each  other.  Christ 
and  his  disciples  after  him  preached  his  philosophy  of  true  living 
in  a  period,  and  to  people,  highly  civilized.  It  should  be  remem- 
bered that  civilization,  as  it  is  usually  understood,  is  but  another 
form  of  barbarism.  Heine,  in  one  of  his  less  joyous  moods,  points 
out  this  fact.  Those  unfortunate  geese  who  cackle  about  the  duty 
of  patriotism,  in  election  speeches,  at  mutual  admiration  banquets, 
and  through  the  press,  should  learn  that  no  great  evil  is  merely 


264     ^  rUE  GLOBE. 

local  in  its  consequences.'  The  starving  crowds,  diseased  and 
demoralized  women  and  children,  and  the  cut-throats  of  Loudon, 
Paris  and  Berlin,  reduced  by  their  birth  and  misery  to  a  moral 
level  below  that  of  savages,  are  not  represented  in  Parliament, 
and  they  do  not  clamor  often  in  the  streets  for  bread.  Society 
goes  about  its  business  and  its  pleasures  and  heeds  not  these  poor 
muddy  shadows,  which  infest  certain  quarters  ;  but,  could  moral 
blindness  go  farther?  The  wrongs  of  these  wretches  are  terribly 
avenged.  Nature  is  continually  working  the  yeast  of  mankind, 
and  nature  is  too  cunning  at  her  craft  to  be  defeated  in  her  pur- 
pose by  the  distinctions  of  societies,  fine  clothes  and  imposing 
houses.  The  prosperous  are  indeed  morally  blind  in  allowing  and 
encouraging  the  moral  blindness  of  the  hordes,  which  may  one 
day  be  animated  by  a  common  mad  impulse  of  revenge,  and  then 
unfortunately  be  too  blind  to  perceive  that  destruction  and  mur- 
der and  rapine  are  not  the  foundations  of  reformation  and  a  true 
civilization.  Hunger  is  a  great  criminal,  but  society  is  the  father  of 
it.  Wrong  perpetuates  wrong.  Those  good  folk  who  disapprove 
of  the  men  who  try  to  open  their  eyes  to  the  fact,  and  its  possible 
terrible  consequences,  should  reflect,  that,  although  men  can  create 
and  sustain  certain  conditions,  these  same  conditions  inevitably 
mould  men ;  and  the  results  of  these  conditions  often  go  so  deep 
into  men's  souls  that  only  God  can  know  just  where  moral  obliga- 
tion begins  and  responsibility  ends.  And  to  make  the  point  I 
wished  to  bring  out — men  may  place  geograpiiical,  ethnological 
and  political  limits  to  misery,  but  if  there  is  one  thing  in  this 
world  which  I  should  imagine  puzzles  the  Almighty,  it  is  this 
fetish  of  commercial  supremacy  and  patriotism.  God  recognizes 
no  such  arbitrary  distinctions.  Starvation  and  misery  in  Europe 
inevitably  produce  homeless,  vagrant  throngs  in  the  streets  of  the 
New  World,  and  the  leaven  works  slowly  and  surely,  until  there 
must  finally  come  a  day  of  reckoning.  Perhaps  to  thousands  it 
has  already  come,  or  is  coming.  A  settling  of  accounts  is  taking 
place  every  day,  but  the  newspapers  contain  no  particulars.  How 
should  they  ?  These  things  are  known  only  to  God.  The  men 
who  make  a  trade  of  politics  tell  us  that  starvation  in  Europe  is 
our  opportunity,  our  market,  and  that  our  wide  expanses  of  arable 
land  and  its  wealth  of  production  are  only  natural  and  legitimate 
advant'iges  in  commerce,  and  we  may  sit  like  geese  and  applaud, 
and  dollars  may  flow  into  the  pockets  of  certain  cliques  of  men  ; 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  AND  LITERATURE.  205 

but  I  tell  you  if  starvation  can  be  confined  within  a  geographical 
definition,  the  moral  and  the  physical  revenges  of  starvation  any- 
where can  not  be  so  confined.  These  conditions  unfortunately 
can  not  be  kept  distinct  and  separate  ;  physical  starvation  in  the 
mass  inevitably  produces  mental  and  moral  starvation,  and  this 
must  always  menace  the  stability  of  any  society.  The  revenges  I 
speak  of  are  not  to  be  found  specifically  recorded  in  history  ;  they 
must  necessarily  escape  the  observation  of  men  whose  Bible  is 
Adam  Smith,  and  who  chronicle  parliamentary  measures  and  agita- 
tions as  if  there  were  no  souls  behind  them.  These  things  belong 
to  pathology  and  psychology  and  are  without  the  province  of 
history,  critics  will  tell  you.  But  history  without  philosophy  is  as 
useful  as  a  candle-stick  without  a  candle.  And  at  best  the  greater 
part  of  what  is  called  history  is  either  a  gravely  preposterous 
record  of  absurd  and  unimportant  occurrences — usually  little  more 
than  fulsome  biography  of  kings  and  statesmen ;  or  a  tissue  of 
superfluous  lies  in  condonation  of  quite  superfluous  actors. 

Some  critics  will  doubtless  say  that  philosophy  and  the  scien- 
tific spirit  also  wrongly  obtained  a  place  in  art ;  that  art  should  be 
something  apart  from  and  superior  to  them.  The  idea  of  art 
being  higher  than  the  eternal  facts  of  human  life  is  incredible  to 
me.  This  sense  of  slowly  working  and  ever  impending  change, 
this  new  and  low  momentous  unrest  goes  perhaps  deeper  than  any 
agitation  of  the  sort  that  has  swept  over  society  before.  Other 
epochs  have  produced  a  similar  unrest,  with  many  similar  super- 
ficial manifestations,  and  have  shaken  society;  but  society  has 
reverted  to  its  idols  again,  and  if  a  change  of  labels  has  been 
effected  that  has  been  the  utmost  done.  Then  mammon  has 
resumed  its  sway.  These  agitations  have  been  born  of  hunger. 
The  millions  of  empty  stomachs  in  the  dark  noisome  corners  of 
the  world  have  suddenly  and  simultaneously  communicated  a 
blind  impulse,  taking  the  place  of  reasoning  to  the  will,  and  the 
millions  have  willed  to  live,  instead  of  somnolently  dying  without 
an  effort.  The  unrest  in  society  nowadays  springs  more  from  the 
apprehension  of  empty  stomachs  to-morrow  than  the  pangs  of  starva- 
tion today.  It  is  born  not  in  the  stomachs  of  the  millions.  It  goes 
from  the  head  downwards.  It  is  the  result  of  education.  Men 
of  the  classes  to  whom  education  was  formerly  denied  have  wrung 
the  right  to  learn  from  those  who  fattened  upon  their  ignorance, 
and  getting  religion  and  philosophy  in  a  new  light,    without  the 


266  THE  OLOBE. 

bias  of  social  station,  rent-rolls,  hereditary  pride  and  precedents, 
they  perceive  this  truth,  that  of  all  created  animals  men  are  the 
only  ones  that  die  of  sheer  starvation  in  the  midst  of  plenty. 
Then  they  inquire  how  this  can  be.  I  speak  of  physical  starva- 
tion, not  because  I  regard  the  securing  of  bread  as  the  whole  prob- 
lem, or  a  suflBciency  as  its  solution,  but  because  it  is  the  undoubted 
basis  of  all  starvation — moral,  religious  and  intellectual.  The 
problem  which  Europe,  America  and  Australasia,  the  whole  Western 
world,  will  have  to  solve,  or  bear  the  incubus  of  through  the 
coming  centuries,  has  its  vitality  almost  as  much  in  the  apprehen- 
sions of,  as  in  the  fact  of,  starvation.  Its  root  goes  deeper  into  the 
conscience  of  the  best  of  mankind.  But  it  is  a  manifold  and  not  a 
purely  crude  starvation  :  it  includes  besides  the  physical,  the  moral, 
the  religions  and  the  intellectual  dormancy  and  impoverishment, 
which  reduce  citizenship  to  a  farce,  and  put  a  premium  on  social 
highwaymanry. 

It  has  been  said  of  slavery  that  it  "  exists  by  the  law  of  nature." 
The  remark  is  a  witty  one,  and  the  facts  of  human  life,  in  every 
age,  seem  to  give  color  to  it.  But  we  are  not  to  judge  of  this  ques- 
tion by  the  facts  of  every  age  ;  we  are  to  deal  with  it  rather  by  the 
spiritual  facts  in  the  lives  of  the  highest  types  of  men.  These 
show  the  possibilities  of  human  nature,  and  these  possibilities  must 
be  recognized  and  insisted  upon  before  we  can  hope  to  see  anything 
of  them  in  the  mass.  It  certainly  does  appear  as  if  a  common 
blind  impulse  were  dominating  men's  minds,  for  all  legislation  and 
all  social  restrictions  and  distinctions  are  for  the  successful  and 
against  the  unsuccessful ;  and  only  in  those  extreme  cases,  which 
the  law  calls  criminal,  is  there  anything  said  of  morality.  And  it 
should  be  borne  in  mind  that  under  our  competitive  system  every 
individual  success  makes  a  score  of  tragedies ;  every  individual 
success  must  involve  multipharous  slavery — and  often  the  succeed- 
ing individual  himself  only  binds  himself  a  slave  with  others  who 
envy  and  hate  him.  Such  a  conservative  and  judicious  writer  as 
Walter  Bagehot  concedes  that  ''even  now,  taking  the  world  as  a 
whole,  the  practice  and  the  theory  of  it  (slavery)  are  in  a  triumph- 
ant majority."  * 

We  need  not  seek  piracy  and  slavery  in  the  China  seas  alone. 
To  our  shame,  slavery  thrives  hideously  in  all  our  cities  and  towns 
— it  is  thinly  disguised  as  progress  and   civilization,  ''supply  and 

♦Essays — The  Metaphysical  Basis  of  Toleration. 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  AND  LITERATURE.  267 

demand,"  financial  statistics  and  commercial  prosperity  and 
philanthropy,but  it  degrades  our  God-made  manhood  to  the  level  of 
man-made  machinery,  and  it  pollutes  our  womanhood  to  something 
lower. 

This  bald  statement  lacks  all  the  horrible  color  of  the  facts  : 
but  it  is  no  loose  aflfirmation.  There  are  millions  of  bondsmen  and 
bondswomen  in  London,  Paris,  New  York,  Berlin,  Chicago — 
every  large  city  in  the  civilized  world.  But  unfortunately  too 
many  people  are  lulled  into  indifferentism  by  the  silence  of  the 
great  human  sub-structure,  upon  which  their  calm,  comfortable  and 
apparently  secure  social  paradise  is  erected.  These  are  content 
with  symbols,  and  these  constitute  that  great  respectable  class 
which  owns  the  land,  which  controls  the  press,  makes  our  laws  and 
pays  men  pennies  for  their  souls  ;  and  these  naturally  abominate 
the  so-called  revolutionaries,  who  claim  that  the  law  of  God  is 
above  all  statute  books,  that  men  are  more  than  laws,  social  con- 
ventions, of  more  consequence  than  bales  of  cotton,  more  than 
stock-lists  and  dividends,  more  than  commercial  or  national  great- 
ness. "With  all  our  infinitely  complicated  social  machinery  we  have 
really  not  got  beyond  a  more  or  less  refined  survival  of  the  ancient 
system  of  patron  and  client.  It  exists  in  every  branch  of  trade 
and  industry,  including  those  of  art  and  letters,  today,  and  per- 
petuates the  two  old  divisions  of  society  of  the  ruling,  rewarding 
minority  and  the  helpless  serving  majority,  continually  under  the 
threat  of  starvation,  and  often  reduced  to  want  and  misery,  while 
willing  to  continue  the  labor  of  production.  Those  who  live  with 
their  eyes  open,  see  men  living  in  superfiuity,  and  men  starving  in 
the  streets,  instead  of  landlords  and  bankrupt  tenants,  or  employers 
and  superfluous  "  labor"? 

Our  literature,  so-called,  is  afraid  to  face  the  problem.  The 
purely  literary  in  literature  is  usually  poor  stuff  for  men  and  women 
who  read  not  only  with  their  eyes  but  with  their  hearts.  All  the 
greatest  literary  artists  have  been  something  more  than  literary 
amusers ;  they  have  been  great  moral  teachers — Shakespeare, 
Milton,  Tennyson,  Burns,  Longfellow,  Wordsworth,  Browning, 
Dante,  Goethe,  Dickens,  Emerson,  Carlyle,  Thackeray,  George 
Eliot,  Hawthorne,  George  Meredith — all  of  them  are  great  in  lit- 
erature because  they  brought  to  literature  the  power  of  illum- 
inating real  life,  and  teaching  the  perennial  lessons  of  humanity. 
I  give  the  broadest,  deepest  significance  to  the  word  poetry.    I  use 


258  THE  GLOBE. 

it  here  to  mean  not  only  metrical  compositions,  bat  all  great  liter- 
ature which  shows  the  grandeur  of   human  life,  and  teaches  the 
true  realities.    The  poets  are  the  only  practical  people.    They  alone 
see  the  world  aright,  and  they  alone  deal  with  the  absolutely  prac- 
tical.    The  mass  of  men  who  take  no  interest  in  literature  because 
it  does  not  touch  reality,  are  usually  so  warped  in  their  vision  that 
they  cannot   recognize   reality,  living  as   they  do   in   a  world  of 
unrealities  and   unnatural   conditions.     The  poets  escape  other 
men's  illusions  and  live  in  realities;   they  would  not  be  poets  if 
they  did  not.     The  truth  derived  from  syllogism  is  indeed  truth, 
but  it  has  not  the  high  and  divine  nature  of  the  truth  that  springs 
from   the  intuitions  of  God's  highest   instruments.     The  divine 
intuitions  of  a  true  poet  are  always  more  valuable  to  mankind  than 
the  labored  analogies,  parallels  and  comparisons  of  the  industrious 
writer  absolutely  dependent  upon  historical  archives  and  legal  and 
social  precedents.     One   brilliant  generalization  of   genius  some- 
times upsets  a  whole  system  of  metaphysics  or  political  economy. 
And  the  literature  born  thus  with  only  the  natural  pains  of  natural 
birth  is  not  only  infinitely  more   serviceable  and  true,  but  on  art 
grounds  is  more  artistic.     As   Matthew  Arnold  says  :   "We  must 
go,  after  all,  to  the  best  poetry  for  the  illumination  of  philosophy." 
I  have  referred  to  literature,  because,   however  much  its   influ- 
ence may  be  distorted,  minimized  and  diverted  by  commercialism 
and    the    pandering  to  a    supposed   taste   for  innocuous     plati- 
tude dipped  in  sugar,  literature  is  the   greatest   moral   agency  in 
the  world,  and   it  must  always  be  wholesome  at   the  core  (in  the 
existence  of  a  few  real  thinkers),  and  so  inevitably   assist  in  the 
problem  of   the  diminution     of  absolute  injustice,  if  not  in  the 
solution    of    the    problem    of   justice.       It    is  certain  that    the 
modern  world  will   seek    of  every     modern    writer  of  eminence 
some      declaration     on     this       paramount     question,   and    will 
account  him  a  farce  or  a  plaything  in  accordance  with  the  large- 
ness   and  earnestness  or  narrowness  and  flippancy  of  his  answer. 
His  first  credentials  must  be  of  the  human  sort.     If  writers  of  lit- 
erature with  a  purpose  are  not  required  in  this   world,    in  which 
one-half  of  mankind  is  infected  with  an  insane  desire  to  barter  its 
God-given  possessions  for  parchments,  meaningless  titles,  gold, 
houses,  and  the  power  to  starve  the  other  half,  then  we   certainly 
have  no  room  for  writers  without  a  purpose.     The  majority  of  men 
go  to  the  poets  for  a  true  philosophy  of  life  rather  than  to  the 


THE  WORLD  PROBLEM  AND  LITERATURE.  269 

authors  of  systems  of  philosophy;  but  if  the  poets  have  nothing  to 
offer  but  bricks  made  without  straw,  they  are  only  a  distraction  in 
a  world  distracted. 

Carlyle  has  remarked  that  a  poet  without  Love  was  a  physical 
and  metaphysical  impossibility — and  it  should  be  noted,  by  love  he 
did  not  mean  special  sensibility  to  the  charms  of  one  woman,  but 
love  for  his  kind .  There  have  been  poets  susceptible  to  the  former 
influence  who  preached  oppression  in  the  name  of  chivalry,  polit- 
ical economy,  established  order  of  things,  and  even  in  God's  name. 
The  truest  poets  of  their  fellows  have  usually  been  those  who  have 
most  fearlessly  rebuked  their  follies  and  wickednesses.  The  poetry 
that  is  most  permeated  with  love  for  mankind  was  born  of  indig- 
nation. These  have  been,  and  are,  usually  arraigned  and  flouted  as 
pessimists  by  the  unthinking,  and  by  the  thinking  but  dishonest  who 
find  more  prosperity  in  flattering  men's  brutality  than  in  attempting 
to  awaken  their  poor  drugged  consciences.  Whittier,  for  instance, 
was  long  regarded  as  a  sour  disturber  of  society — and  society 
which  can  only  cohere  healthily  through  continual  disturbance 
can  never  forgive  that — until  it  has  slowly  swung  round  upon  its 
pivot  (an  extraordinarily  illogical  piece  of  illusory  mechanism), 
and  accepted  the  heresy  it  revolted  at.  If  society  is  only  in  har- 
mony through  its  slumberous  indifference  to  iniquity  and  oppres- 
sion, its  cohesion  is  something  akin  to  that  of  wet  gunpowder  in  a 
warm  oven — with  a  good  fire  growing  beneath  it.  This  is  the 
harmony  obtaining  in  the  social  world  today.  It  is  the  business 
of  literature  to  show  the  cooks,  by  a  series  of  object  l6ssons,  domes- 
tic explosions  and  disintegrations,  that  pies  cannot  be  cooked  in 
an  oven  containing  wet  gunpowder.  This  is  the  sort  of  independ- 
ent, reckless  cooking  going  on  in  the  political  and  social  kitchen 
today,  and  while  everybody  is  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  gun- 
powder, almost  everybody  complacently  remarks  that  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  raise  the  pie  crust.  It  is  quite  probable  that  in  due  sea- 
son these  good  conservatives  will  be  gratified. 

The  greatest  writers  teach  men  to  be  human — to  look  at  life 
for  a  moment  philosophically  and  see  what  they  lose  by  the  gains 
of  avarice,  greed,  cruelty  and  self-worship.  Their  books  educate 
us  in  ultimate  morality.  They  keep  alight  the  perennial  flame 
which  lights  the  darkness  of  the  world,  and  forces  men,  if  only  in 
occasional  reflection,  to  recognize  the  divine  in  every  one  of  God's 
human  creatures;  and  of  all  artists,  these  are,  and  ever  will  be,  the 


270  -    THE  GLOBE. 

most  needed,  to  call  men  to  themselves,  and  to  show  a  world  gone 
mad,  in  what  a  dismal  miasm  it  rots,  from  its  own  sheer  perversity. 
It  is  an  apparent  contradiction  to  most  men,  but  it  is  very  true, 
that  there  are  more  illusions  between  the  covers  of  the  ledger  of  a 
money  grubber  than  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  man  who  cares 
nothing  for  riches,  who  loves  the  world,  loves  the  songs  of  the 
birds,  the  break,  break  of  the  sea,  the  shadows  of  the  woods,  the 
music  of  the  trees,  the  sounds  of  the  streets,  and,  above  all,  trusts 
and  loves  his  fellows.  The  whole  philosophy  of  true  living  is 
love.  And  love  runs  through  all  the  greatest  literature,  and  is  to 
be  found  especially  predominant  in  the  works  of  the  men  who  are 
usually  arrainged  as  cynics. 

Walter  Blackburn  Harte. 


INGERSOLL  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT. 


Myth  and  Miracle. — Impressions  of  Nature  on  the  Mind 
OF  Man. — The  Conflict  Between  Theology  and  Science, 
— By  Col.  R.  G.  Ingersoll. — G.  E.  Wilson,  Publisher. 
Chicago. 

Were  I  the  editor  of  an  illustrated  weekly  like  PucJc  or  Life, 
or  of  an  illustrated  juvenile  magazine,  such  as  Lippincott's,  the 
Century  or  Harper's,  I  would  run  at  least  a  thousand  pictures  of 
R.  G.  Ingersoll  as  a  jackass,  in  various  characteristic  attitudes  of 
that  intelligent  brute,  and  then  another  thousand  of  R.  G.  Inger- 
soll as  a  cunning  old  ram  butting  the  various  shrubbery  and  young 
bushes  of  our  pasture  lands,  and  calling  this  sport,  ''Impressions 
of  Nature,"  etc.,  ''The  Conflict  Between  Science  and  Religion,"  etc 

And  when  I  had  exhausted  the  subject  of  Ingersoll  as  a  jackass 
and  as  a  cute  old  ram  in  his  single  glory,  I  would  run  a  series  of 
five  hundred  more  pictures  of  Ingersoll  and  Talmage  as  the  two 
champion  jackasses  of  the  nineteenth  century,  each  braying  at  the 
moon  to  see  which  could  bray  the  loudest,  and  then  with  squint- 
eye,  knowing  looks,  backing  at  each  other,  kicking  like  mad,  but 
at  such  safe  distance  as  to  render  the  joke  perfectly  harmless. 

The  illustrations  would  be  very  taking,  and  when  a  pair  of 
jackasses  like  Ingersoll   and  Talmage  have  received   a  certain 


INOERSOLL  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT.  271 

amount  of  free  advertising,  a  little  more  or  less  does  not  materially 
affect  their  annual  income  from  such  assininities  as  choose  to  listen 
to  or  purchase  their  twaddle. 

I  confess  myself  one  of  these  assininities  to  the  extent  of 
five  cents,  which  I  spent  one  windy  day  at  Washington  and  Clark 
streets  in  Chicago  for  the  purchase  of  the  pamphlet,  whose  title  I 
have  placed  at  the  head  of  this  notice,  and  I  here  promise  my 
superiors  in  the  church  and  my  fellow  men  and  women  everywhere 
that  I  will  never  be  guilty  of  such  a  piece  of  stupidity  again.  I 
have  always  known  that  Ingersoll  was  an  unmitigated  jackass  in 
his  theology ;  but  I  had  given  him  the  credit  of  possessing  some 
ability  of  insight  into  nature  and  some  sense  of  fairness  in  deal- 
ing with  subjects  as  far  as  he  understood  them,  and  I  had  always 
assumed  that  the  newspaper  reports  of  Ingersoll's  speeches  and 
pamphlets  might  not  give  a  perfectly  just  and  lucid  report  of 
those  speeches  and  writings.  Further,  as  a  Christian  bound  to 
charity  and  always  ready  to  give  an  atheist,  an  infidel  or  a  fool  in 
any  prof ession  the  benefit  of  a  doubt  in  his  favor,  I  had  always  felt 
that  perhaps  Ingersoll  might  be  a  better  man  and  a  smarter  man 
than  the  newspapers  and  his  foes  made  him  out  to  be. 

I  find,  however,  from  this  pamphlet  that  Ingersoll  is  not  only 
an  unmitigated  jackass  but"  that  he  is  a  tricky,  balky,  cunning, 
vicious,  sly,  insincere,  maudlin  sentimental  jackass  of  the  lowest 
species  of  that  famed  animal  that  has  ever  come  under  my 
notice. 

In  treating  of  Col.  Ingersoll  in  this  light  I  do  not  make  or  intend 
to  make,  or  imply  any  reference  to  the  animal  as  a  social  being,  as  a 
citizen,  or  as  a  lawyer.  I  leave  his  personal  and  his  profes- 
sional life  entirely  out  of  view  and  treat  the  subject  merely  and 
only  as  he  has  disported  himself  in  the  pages  of  the  pamphlet  now 
before  me. 

I  am  well  aware  that  Father  Lambert  and  other  Catholic 
priests  have,  long  ago,  published  able  replies  to  Col.  IngersolFs 
speeches.  Many  years  ago,  when  I  was  the  literary  editor  of  a 
leading  daily  newspaper  in  Philadelphia,  it  was  my  duty,  and  it 
gave  me  great  pleasure,  to  notice  and  commend  Father  Lambert's 
able  reply  to  Ingersoll.  It  was  strong  and  clear  enough  to  annihi- 
late Ingersoll  if  any  serious  treatment  of  the  beast  could  possibly 
accomplish  that  object.  But  it  was  always  a  mistake  to  treat 
Ingersoll  seriously.      At  best  the  man  is  only  a  clown,  and  every 


.  272  THE  GLOBE. 

dragoman  and  every  person  of  experience  knows  that  such  crea- 
tures can  not  and  must  not  be  treated  seriously.  If  you  treat  a 
jackass  or  a  clown  seriously  he  will  simply  wink  his  north-east  eye 
at  the  next  jackass  or  clown  to  indicate  your  folly  and  wait  his 
opportunity  to  kick  all  seriousness  out  of  your  constitution. 

I  will  not  therefore  offend  this  animal  by  approaching  him  or 
treating  him  in  a  serious  mood.  The  great  Goethe  said  that  in 
order  to  criticise  any  author  justly,  you  must  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  that  author,  and  treat  him  from  his  own  standpoint.  1  find  in 
Ingersoll  the  spirit  of  a  hearty,  amusing,  free-eating  donkey,  and 
I  propose  throughout  this  article  to  treat  the  beast  according  to 
the  spirit  of  the  species  he  has  displayed. 

I  do  not  mean  any  personal  disrespect  or  libel  in  this.  From 
a  boy,  when  I  was  once  riding  a  jackass,  bareback,  and  some  other 
boys  stinging  him  with  nettles,  the  beast  kicked  me  into  the 
nearest  ditch — I  have  always  had  a  certain  respect  fpr  the  animal. 
I  am  also  aware  that  Ingersoll,  having  been  stung  in  the  blood 
and  in  the  cradle  by  the  rank  nettles  of  ultra  Calvinism,  can  not 
well  help  the  braying  and  high  kicking  he  has  been  indulging  in 
all  his  life.  I  am  not  writing  to  condemn  the  man,  but  to  desig- 
nate the  animal  species  he  clearly  belongs  to.  The  jackass  is  not 
to  be  despised.  I  think  it  was  Mark  Twain  who  defined  him  as 
**an  amusing  cuss.*' 

In  the  old  versions  of  the  old  Testament  there  used  to  be  a 
story  of  one  Balaam,  a  week-kneed  stubborn  prophet,  who,  like 
many  of  his  class,  and  from  low  and  selfish  purposes,  was  bent  on  a 
course  of  life,  a  journey,  a  pursuit,  that  the  good  God  plainly  did 
not  favor ;  and  as  Balaam's  own  heart  and  conscience  and  will 
were  too  seared  and  dull  to  mind  the  monitions  of  duty  heaven 
used  the  simpler  instincts  of  the  ass  to  speak  out  the  stifled  con- 
scientiousness, the  shirking  and  skulking  sense  of  duty  in  the 
prophet's  soul. 

Here  was  a  jackass  that  was  of  some  service.  I  have  often 
known  of  jackasses  that  were  of  great  service.  Indeed,  in  many 
ways  they  are  a  useful  animal,  and  they  are  supposed  to  have  con- 
siderable intelligence. 

My  readers  will  see  that  in  the  case  of  Balaam  and  his  ass  I 
hold  that  it  was  the  reflex  action  of  Balaam's  smothered  soul, 
perhaps  betraying  itself  in  various  jerkings  on  the  lines  and  side 


INOER80LL  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT.  273 

spurrings  that  aroused  into  utterance  the  latent  intelligence  and 
gift  of  speech  in  the  jackass. 

Heaven  only  knows,  there  may  be  something  of  this  same  law 
and  power  working  to-day,  in  the  utterances  of  the  jackass 
IngersolK 

The  Calvinistic  prophets  of  the  two  or  three  generations  pre- 
ceding Ingersoll  not  only  were  stubborn  and  hardened  in  their 
natures,  but  they  went  with  cold  blooded  bitterness  and  savagery, 
straight  against  the  eternal  mercies  and  goodness  of  God,  and  in 
their  mad  theology  sent  the  bulk  of  the  human  race,  innocent 
infants  included  to  eternal  hells  of  literal  brimstone  and  fire. 
Psychologically  speaking  perhaps  this  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  all 
Ingersoll's  kicks  and  antics. 

I  do  not  propose  to  discuss  this  old  theology.  I  laid  it  all  aside 
in  agonies  of  prayer  and  faith  long  years  ago.  I  am  simply  referr- 
ing to  the  Balaam  quality  of  it,  as  a  possible  exciting  cause  of  the 
modern  brayings  and  kickings,  of  the  animal  Ingersoll. 

And  if  there  is  anything  in  this,  IngersolFs  utterances — 
assinine  as  they  are,  may  have  a  message  and  a  meaning  for  cer- 
tain prophets  of  these  days. 

The  dumb  ass,  speaking,  may  even  now  forbid  and  condemn 
the  madness  of  many  a  pseudo-prophet.  But  let  us  take  a  few 
glimpses  of  Mr.  Stultus  Ingersoirs  "Impressions  of  Nature," 
etc.  According  to  our  pamhlet  Col.  Ingersoll  spoke  in  Boston 
of  "Myth  and  Miracle, 'Vas  follows: 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  What,  after  all,  is  the  object  of 
life?  What  is  the  highest  possible  aim?  The  highest  aim  is  to 
accomplish  the  only  good.  Happiness  is  the  only  good  of  which 
man  by  any  possibility  can  conceive.  The  object  of  life  is  to  in- 
crease human  joy,  and  the  means,  intellectual  and  physical  develop- 
ment. The  question,  then,  is:  Shall  we  rely  upon  superstition  or 
upon  growth?  Is  intellectual  development  the  highway  of  pro- 
gress or  must  we  depend  on  the  pit  of  credulity?  Must  we  rely  on 
belief  or  credulity,  or  upon  manly  virtues,  courageous  investiga- 
tion, thought,  and  intellectual  development?  For  thousands  of 
years  men  have  been  talking  about  religious  freedom.  I  am  now 
contending  for  the  freedom  of  religion,  not  religious  freedom — for 
the  freedom  which  is  the  only  real  religion.  Only  a  few  years  ago 
our  poor  ancestors  tried  to  account  for  what  they  saw.  Noticing 
the  running  river,  the  shining  star,  or  the  painted  flower,  they  put 


274  THE  GLOBE. 

a  spirit  in  the  river,  a  spirit  in  the  star,  and  another  in  the  flower. 
Something  makes  this  river  run,  something  makes  this  star  shine, 
something  paints  the  bosom  of  that  flower.  They  were  all  spirits. 
That  was  the  first  religion  of  mankind — fetichism — and  in  every- 
thing that  lived,  everything  that  produced  an  effect  upon  them, 
they  said,  ''This  is  a  spirit  that  lives  within.^'  That  is  called  the 
lowest  phase  of  religious  thought,  and  yet  it  is  quite  the  highest 
phase  of  religious  thought.  One  by  one  these  little  spirits 
died.  One  by  one  nonenities  took  their  places,  and  last  of  all  we 
have  one  itifinite,  fetich  that  takes  the  place  of  all  others.  Now, 
what  makes  the  river  run?  We  say  the  attraction  of  gravitation, 
and  we  know  no  more  about  that  than  we  do  about  this  fetich. 
What  makes  the  tree  grow?  The  principle  of  life — vital  forces. 
These  are  simply  phrases,  simply  names  of  ignorance.  Nobody 
knows  what  makes  the  river  run,  what  makes  the  trees  grow,  why 
the  flowers  burst  and  bloom — nobody  knows  why  the  stars  shine, 
and  probably  nobody  ever  will  know. 

There  are  two  horizons  that  have  never  been  passed  by  man — 
origin  and  destiny.  All  human  knowledge  is  confined  to  the 
diameter  of  that  circle.  All  religions  rest  on  supposed  facts 
beyond  the  circumference  of  the  absolutely  known.  (Applause.) 
What  next  ?  The  next  thing  that  came  in  the  world — the  next 
man — was  the  mythmaker.  He  gave  to  these  little  spirits  human 
passions  ;  he  clothed  ghosts  in  flesh  ;  he  warmed  that  flesh  with 
blood,  and  in  that  blood  he  put  desire — motive.  And  the  myths 
were  born,  and  were  only  produced  through  the  fact  of  the  impres- 
sions that  nature  makes  upon  the  brain  of  man .  They  were  every 
one  a  natural  production,  and  let  me  say  here  to-night  that  what 
men  call  monstrosities  are  only  natural  productions.  Every  reli- 
gion has  grown  just  as  naturally  as  the  grass  ;  every  one,  as  I  said 
before,  and  it  cannot  be  said  too  often,  has  been  naturally  produced 
All  the  Christs,  all  the  gods  and  goddesses,  all  the  furies  and  fair- 
ies, all  the  mingling  of  the  beastly  and  human,  were  all  pro- 
duced by  the  impressions  of  nature  upon  the  brain  of  man — by  the 
rise  of  the  sun,  the  silver  dawn,  the  golden  sunset,  the  birth  and 
death  of  day,  the  change  of  seasons,  the  lightning,  the  storm,  the 
beautiful  bow — all  these  produced  within  the  brain  of  man  all 
myths,  and  they  are  all  natural  productions.     (Applause.)" 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  readers  of  the  Globe,  please  remem- 
ber that  this  is  Boston  applause,  and  that  in  Boston  from  the  days 


INQERSOLL  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT.  275 

of  Ann  Hutchinson  to  Sam  Adams,  to  Bob  Ingersoll,  the  people 
have  always  been  ready  to  crucify  the  preacher  of  truth  and  to 
applaud  the  preacher  of  lies.  But  these  are  Mr.  Ingersoll's  impres- 
sions of  nature,  etc.  and  we  must  look  into  them  a  little. 

First  as  to  Mr.  Ingersoll's  definition  of  the  "object  of  life." 
Since  Caryle  said  :  *'  Lay  down  thy  Byron,  take  up  thy  Goethe ; 
give  up  happiness  and  get  blessedness;"  all  New  England  and  old 
Engla'nd  humanitarians  even  have  ceased  to  parade  happiness  as  the 
object  of  life,  even  the  least  religious  of  modern  Unitarian  preach- 
ers will  pretend  at  least  that  there  is  a  higher  than  human  happi- 
ness to  live  for,  and  he  will  with  some  dim  and  far  approaches  to 
the  divine  ideal  quote  from  Parker  or  Emerson  to  show  that  bles- 
sedness is  higher  than  happiness  and  is  the  only  true  object  of  an 
ideal  human  life.  It  is  true  that  when  the  Sociuian  comes  to 
tell  you  how  to  get  blessedness  he  bungles  and  stumbles  much  as 
Ingersoll  does  in  his  theology  and  were  he  as  honest  as  Ingersoll  he 
.too  would  up  and  say  with  this  great  Atheist  that  happiness  after 
all,  was  the  aim  and  end  of  existence.  A  man  can  only  truly  preach 
what  he  lives.  But  Mr.  Ingersoll  would  doubtless  attribute  Carlyle's 
advice  to  his  dyspepsia  and  having  winked  his  north-east  eye  to 
bring  down  the  house  would  still  go  on  flying  as  high  and  braying 
as  loud  as  ever. 

Mr.  Socrates  appears  to  be  a  great  favorite  with  Ingersoll.  I 
have  done  quite  a  little  worship  at  that  shrine  myself  in  days  gone 
by  and  never  expect  to  lose  my  love  or  admiration  for  the  famous 
old  Greek.  But  did  Socrates  live  for  happiness?  Every  school  boy 
knows  that  he  died  a  martyr  for  something  higher  than  happiness, 
which  I  am  not  yet  ready  to  define. 

Our  heroic  abolishionists  of  the  last  generation — Lundy,  Lovejoy, 
Garrison,  Phillips,  LucreciaMott  are  among  the  ideals  of  Inger- 
soll's imagination  as  they  are  of  mine.  Did  any  one  of  them  live 
for  happiness,  or  make  happiness  the  end  of  his  aims?  Even 
Ingersoll's  own  Calvinistic  parents — upon  whom  it  is  understood 
much  of  the  braying  infidelity  of  the  son  is  blamed — did  they  live 
for  happiness,  or  for  the  health  and  blessing  and  consciences  and 
truth  hoped  for  in  the  lives  of  their  children? 

In  truth  my  good  friends,  no  man  or  woman  ever  lived  on  this 
earth  whose  life  was  worth  living  but  had  some  higher  motive  for 
living  and  suffering  than  is  set  forth  by  the  braying  of  this  great 
man,  Ingersoll ;  and  I  think  that  any  modern  Boston  audience  so 


27«  THE  GLOBE. 

stupid  and  godless  as  to  applaud  such  stuff  ought  to  be  treated 
precisely  as  the  forefathers  of  these  applauding  people  treated 
Quakers  and  Episcopalians  between  two  and  three  hundred  years 
ago  ;  that  is,  they  ought  to  be  tied  to  a  cart's  tail  and  whipped 
through  the  streets  of  Boston,  and  the  ass  Ingersoll  ought  to  be 
made  to  pull  the  cart  along. 

I  speak,  not  for  any  church  but  simply  the  conviction  of  my 
own  individual  soul. 

Every  Christian,  supremely  every  Catholic  Christian  knows 
that  there  is  a  higher  than  happiness  to  live  for,  knows  that  the  only 
true  essence  and  meaning  of  life  are  found  when  one  ceases  to  live 
for  happiness  and  lives  for  virtue,  truth,  purity,  justice,  honesty, 
honor,  chastity  and  charity  until  the  quenchless  and  eternal 
beatitude  of  the  soul  is  reached  in  that  martyrdom  of  falsehood 
and  hell  and  selfishness  and  Ingersollism  which  alone  is  spiritual 
victory  and  immortal  life. 

Second.  This  man  Ingersoll  says:  "  The  question  then  is  shall  we 
rely  upon  superstition  or  growth,  etc.''  Whereas  the  question  really 
is,  you  poor  blatherskite,  braying  donkey,  whether  you  and  those 
like  you  will  ever  understand  the  true  meaning  of  growth,  from  the 
faintest  plasmic  speck  of  the  divine  in  man  till  you  reach  the 
God-man,  Christ  Jesus  in  all  his  majesty  and  power.  As  if  this 
cant  of  intellectual  development,  which  is  nothing  more  than  the 
free  braying  of  an  untamed  ass,  could  or  should  pass  for  real  intel- 
lectual development,  even  in  Boston!  True  intellectual  develop- 
ment consists  in  such  an  awakening  of  all  the  latent  powers  of 
the  human  soul  as  enables  them  to  see  the  natural  and  the  super, 
natural  worlds  of  thought  and  action,  in  their  true,  physical, 
moral  and  intellectual  relationships,  and  not  in  blindly  and  basely 
hooting  at  all  that  is  noblest  and  best  in  human  history  and  in 
each  human  life. 

Ingersoll's  religious  liberty  is  simply  bondage  to  hell;  slavery  to 
essential  ignorance,  servitude  of  a  lie;  and  this  braying  ass  of  a  man 
who  has  never  set  before  himself  the  highest  standards  of  truth 
or  life  and  tried  to  live  up  to  them,  ought  simply  to  be  ashamed 
to  hoot  and  bray  his  insufferable  ignorance  in  the  face  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  It  is  the  atheistic  Ingersoll  philosophy  of 
this  age  not  true  religion  that  is  ignorant  and  superstitious. 

Tliird.  Mr.  Ingersoll  is  as  much  of  an  ass  in  his  mythology  as 
he  is  in  his  would-be  religious  freedom  and  philosophy.     Speaking 


INQERSOLL  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT.  277 

of  tlie  vfirious  attempts  of  natural  religion  to  explain  the  action 
and  forces  of  nature  he  says:  "One  by  one  these  little  spirits  died. 
One  by  one  nonentities  took  their  places,  and  last  of  all  we  have 
one  infinite  fetich,"  etc. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  the  ass  Ingersoll's  definition  of 
Almighty  God,  and  this  is  the  stuff  that  a  nineteenth  century 
Boston  audience  applauded  as  the  new  wisdom  of  Ingersoli 
atheism.  Now  every  school  boy  in  mythology  or  theology  knows 
that  the  term  fetich  has  always  been  used  to  signify  the  material 
object  representative  of  some  spiritual  force  or  power,  or  person 
believed  in  and  not  that  unseen  spiritual  power  itself.  And  every 
school  boy  in  christian  theology  knows  that  the  almighty  God  of 
Christianity,  is  defined  as  a  pure  spiritual  being.  In  a  word  the 
expression  "  we  have  one  infinite  fetich,"  is  as  ignorant  of  scholar- 
ship as  it  isb  lasphemous  of  God  Almighty,  but  as  I  said,  this  ass, 
Ingersoli  cannot  be  taken  seriously.  His  brayings  are  mere  brayings 
and  nothing  more.  But  that  a  Boston  audience  should  stand  up 
or  sit  down  and  gape  and,  being  stage-struck,  should  applaud  the 
braying  of  an  ass  as  the  wisdom  of  heaven  is  a  serious  aspect  of 
modern  life. 

Fourth. — To  hasten  to  the  end  of  this  Ingersoli  rot ;  spite  of  all 
the  ridicule  heaped  upon  natural  and  supernatural  religions,  this 
ass, as  if  forgetting  his  last  bray,declare8  that  "  they  are  all  natural 
productions.'^  Well,  well !  if  they  are  all  natural  productions, 
and  nature  is  at  all  trustworthy  in  her  highest  productions  of 
thought,  perhaps  there  may  be  something  in  these  natural  produc- 
tions worthy  the  respect  or  thought,  or  reverence  of  an  intellec- 
tual ass  like  Ingersoli. 

Furthermore,  if  they  are,  as  Christian  and  religious  people  have 
good  room  to  believe,  if  they  are  all  natural  productions,  touched 
and  inspired  to  beauty  and  life,  and  self-sacrifice,  by  a  something 
supernatural  and  higher  than  themselves,  there  may  be  not  only  a 
beautiful  study  for  man  in  all  these  natural  productions  hooted  at 
by  Ingersoli,  but  there  may  be  something  back  of  them  worthy  of 
the  love  and  reverence  of  the  whole  human  race. 

In  trutli,  until  a  man  has  understood  and  defined  himself  as 
only  a  natural  being,  how  dare  he  question  and  ridicule  the  super- 
natural in  the  soul  of  nature,  and  the  construction  of  the  universe 
and  the  soul  of  human  history? 


278  THE  GLOBE. 

Even  the  ass  Ingorsoll  has  a  supernatural,  better  than  the  ass, 
within  him,  and  under  certain  favorable  conditions  he  might  be 
brought  to  feel  and  think  and  speak  and  worship  like  a  man. 

Further  along  the  pamphlet  touches  the  question  of  creation, 
the  Bible  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Talmage,  so  called,  as  follows  : 

''Mr.  Talmage  says  that  you  insist  that,  according  to  the  Bible, 
the  universe  was  made  out  of  nothing,  and  he  denounces  your 
statement  as  a  gross  misrepresentation.  What  have  you  stated 
upon  that  subject?  A.  What  I  said  was  substantially  this:  '  We 
are  told  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  that  in  the  beginning  God 
created  the  heaven  and  the  earth.  If  this  means  anything,  it 
means  that  God  produced — caused  to  exist,  called  into  being — the 
heaven  and  the  earth.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  God  formed  the 
heaven  and  the  earth  of  previously  existing  matter.  Moses  con- 
veys, and  intended  to  convey,  the  idea  that  the  matter  of  which 
the  heaven  and  earth  are  composed  was  created. '* 

"This  has  always  been  my  position.  I  did  not  suppose  that 
nothing  was  used  as  the  raw  material ;  but  if  the  Mosaic  account 
means  anything,  it  means  that  whereas  there  was  notJiing,  God 
caused  something  to  exist — created  what  we  know  as  matter.  I 
cannot  conceive  of  something  being  made,  created,  without  any- 
thing to  make  anything  with.  I  have  no  more  confidence  in  fiat 
worlds  than  I  have  in  fiat  money.  Mr.  Talmage  tells  us  that  God 
did  not  make  the  universe  out  of  nothing,  but  out  of  "omnipo- 
tence." Exactly  how  God  changed  "omnipotence  into  matter  is 
not  stated.  If  there  was  nothing  in  the  universe,  omnipotence 
could  do  you  no  good.  The  weakest  man  in  the  world  can  lift  as 
much  nothing  as  God."  As  if  it  were  a  question  of  "  lifting,"  you 
poor,  blind  donkey! 

Again  the  pamphlet  continues. 

"Question  :  Have  you  read  the  sermon  of  Mr.  Talmage  in 
which  he  exposes  your  misrepresentation?  Answer  :  I  have  read 
such  reports  as  appeared  in'some  of  the  New  York  papers. 

Q.  What  do  you  think  of  what  he  has  to  say  ?  A.  Some  time 
ago  I  gave  it  as  my  opinion  of  Mr.  Talmage  that,  while  he  was  a  man 
of  most  excellent  judgment,  he  was  somewhat  deficient  in  imagi- 
nation. I  find  that  he  has  the  disease  that  seems  to  aflflict  most 
theologians,  and  that  is  a  kind  of  intellectual  toadyism  that  uses 
the  names  of  supposed  great  men  instead  of  arguments.  It  is 
perfectly  astonishing  to  the  average  preacher  that  any  one  should 


INQERSOLL  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT.  279 

have  the  temerity  to  dijBEer,  on  the  subject  of  theology,  from 
Andrew  Jackson,  Daniel  Webster,  and  other  gentlemen  eminent 
for  piety  during  their  lives,  but,  who  as  a  rule,  expressed  their  theo- 
logical opinions  a  few  minutes  before  dissolution.  These  ministers 
are  perfectly  delighted  to  have  some  great  politician,  some  judge, 
soldier,  or  president  certify  to  the  truth  of  the  Bible  and  to  the 
moral  character  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Mr.  Talmage  insists  that  if  a  witness  is  false  in  one  particular, 
his  entire  testimony  must  be  thrown  away.  Daniel  "Webster  was 
in  favor  of  the  fugitive  slave  law,  and  thought  it  the  duty  of  the 
North  to  capture  the  poor  slave  mother.  He  was  willing  to  stand 
between  a  human  being  and  his  freedom.  He  was  willing  to  assist 
in  compelling  persons  to  work  without  any  pay  except  such  marks 
of  the  lash  as  they  might  receive.  Yet  this  man  is  brought  forward 
as  a  witness  for  the  truth  of  the  gospel.  If  he  was  false  in  his 
testimony  as  to  liberty,  what  is  his  affidavit  worth  as  to  the  value 
of  Christianity  ?  Andrew  Jackson  was  a  brave  man,  a  good 
general,  a  patriot  second  to  none,  an  excellent  judge  of  horses,  and 
a  brave  duelist.  I  admit  that  in  his  old  age  he  relied  considerably 
upon  the  atonement.  I  think  Jackson  was  really  a  very  great 
man,  and  probably  no  president  impressed  himself  more  deeply 
upon  the  American  people  than  the  hero  of  Xew  Orleans  ;  but  as 
a  theologian  he  was,  in  my  judgment,  a  most  decided  failure,  and 
his  opinion  as  to  the  authenticity  of  the  scriptures  is  of  no  earthly 
value.  It  was  a  subject  upon  which  he  knew  probably  as  little  as 
Mr.  Talmage  does  about  modern  Infidelity.  Thousands  of  people 
will  quote  Jackson  in  favor  of  religion,  about  which  he  knew 
nothing,  and  yet  have  no  confidence  in  his  political  opinions, 
athough  he  devoted  the  best  part  of  his  life  to  politics/* 

Col.  IngersoU  is  plainly  right,  in  ridiculing  the  Protestant  idea 
that  the  sacred  scriptures  outside  of  the  hands,  and  without  the 
light  of  the  church  that  made  them,  are  an  infallible  guide  for  the 
intelligence  of  mankind.  As  highest  and  truest  poetry  needs  the  poetic 
instinct  and  a  certain  intellectual  culture,  properly  to  comprehend 
it,  so  the  sacred  scriptures,  given  by  inspiration  of  God  to  men  of 
spiritual  discernment,  need  the  grace  of  God  through  his  church  in 
order  to  their  true  comprehension. 

In  a  word,  this  modern  Balaam's  ass  plainly  knows  more  than  the 
Protestant  prophet  that  would  ride  him,  and  could  he  be  a  Chris- 
tian at  all  he  would  plainly  be  a  Catholic  Christian,  and  by  the  aid 


280  THE  QLOBE. 

of  and  ou  the  authority  of  the  Church  he  would  have  no  trouble 
with  the  story  of  the  Deluge;  the  creation  of  the  world  or  the  incar- 
nation of  Almighty  God.  As  it  is  he  has,  latently,  more  faith  than 
a  man  like  Talmage,  who  would  simply  whittle  the  deluge  and 
other  divine  wonders  down  to  meet  the  so-called  common-sense  and 
common  infidelity  of  the  age  in  which  we  live. 

Again,  Mr.  Ingersoll  is  plainly  right  in  ridiculing  Talmage  & 
Co/s  everlasting  quotations  from  such  **  statesmen,"  as  Daniel 
Webster,  and  such  soldiers  and  politicians  as  Andrew  Jack- 
son— as  authorities  in  matters  of  religious  and  theological  discus- 
sion. I  hold,  in  common,  with  my  fellow-Americans  that  Webster 
was  one  of  the  ablest  lawyers  and  one  of  the  most  eloquent  ora- 
tors this  country  ever  produced.  And  I  hold  that  Jackson  was 
one  of  the  ablest  soldiers  that  ever  drew  a  sword;  but  the  habit  of 
Protestant  preachers  in  quoting  these  men  as  authorities  in  relig- 
ion only  shows  their  own  imbecility,  their  wretched  todyism  and 
their  utter  lack  of  the  true  meaning  of  religion  in  this  world.  And 
here  again  the  prophet's  ass  is  smarter  than  the  prophet,  and 
really  exposes  the  prophet's  unutterable  lunacy. 

As  I  am  not  a  Priest,  and  have  no  authority  to  interpret  scrip- 
ture, I  leave  the  mooted  vuestions  of  interpretation  untouched.  1 
am  simply  pointing  out  where  our  modern  Jackass  is  right,  and 
where  he  is  wrong.  I  am  aware  that  as  the  picture  stands  I  have 
left  one  donkey  riding  another;  but  the  interests  of  truth  cannot 
be  sacrificed  to  the  demands  of  art  in  an  article  of  this  kind. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


DREAMS  OF  EVOLUTION. 


Professing  unbounded  love  of  truth  and  absolute  submission  to 
whatever  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  teaches,  ultramontane  in 
the  last  degree,  the  fact  does  not  prevent  our  dreaming  of  dreams 
after  a  modern  fashion,  mayhap  no  less  profitable  than  other 
fancies  to  the  reader.  ''  I  confess,"  said  St.  Augustine,  as  quoted 
by  Laudriot,  "that  by  writing  I  have  learned  many  things  nothing 
else  had  taught  me." 

In   his  essay,   "  Evolution  and   Christianity,"  {Cosmopolitan 
Magazine,  August,  1892,  p.  491,)  St.  George  Mivart  uses  these 


DREAMS  OF  E VOL  IJTION.  28 1 

words  :  "  The  one  consideration,  however,  which  mars  the  com- 
pleteness not  only  of  any  other  explanation  of  evolution,  but  also 
of  the  proof  of  evolution  as  a  fact,  is  the  consideration  that  no 
actual  process  of  evolution  has  yet  been  demonstrated  to  have 
actually  taken  place.  We  believe  that  it  does  take  place,  and  that 
it  must  have  taken  place  for  the  reasons  given  by  us  in  our  first 
article,  but  we  are  still  quite  unable  to  say  that  to  our  knowledge 
and  under  our  careful  ''scientific  observation  a  new  species  has  in 
fact  actually  evolved." 

This  paragraph  set  me  reviewing  old  dreams  in  which  I  had 
insisted  on  leaving  out  of  consideration  the  evolution  of  species  in 
that  prehistoric  agQ  antedating  the  jippearance  of  man  in  the 
delectable  garden  of  paradise,  for  I  Teflected  that  the  fact  of  reve- 
lation and  truth  thus  brought  to  us  has  had  the  most  "  careful 
scientific  observation '^  bestowed  on  it,  and  is  therefore  a  firm 
foundation  on  which  to  exhibit  theories  yet  to  be  tested.  Man,  in 
that  paradise,  as  we  are  assured  by  an  unerring  teacher,  was  a 
rational  animal,  supported  in  a  degree  not  essential  to  his  nature 
by  the  supernatural.  Essentially  free,  he  was  at  liberty  to  retain 
or  reject  this  support,  and  lose  nothing  necessary  to  the  genus 
man.  In  fact,  the  typical  species,  as  created  and  loved  by  God, 
was  through  the  act  of  Adam  thus  absolutely  lost,  for  he  chose  to 
rest  in  himself  unsupported.  And  who  can  pretend  to  trace  along 
the  lengthening  ages  the  numberless  variations  of  the  original 
type  by  means  of  the  Babel  din  of  interior  voices  when  the  infal- 
lible guidance  had  been  thus  rejected? 

Yet  God,  the  Creator,  had  not  missed  sight  of  any  link  in  the 
chain  of  events  the  future  should  bring  forth  when  he  uttered  the 
fiat  permitting  it  to  be.  -He,  in  His  wisdom,  loved  the  liberty  of 
man,  since  it  enables  the  creature  of  His  hand  to  share  in  the 
evolution  of  the  final  end,  merit  reward  for  obedience,  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  by  his  self-sufiiciency,  {"  Pride  is  the  beginning  of  all 
perdition,"  Eccl.  x  15,)  he  should  also  merit  condemnation. 
Loving,  He  provided  in  His  plan  for  a  loftier  type  of  manhood  than 
the  rational  animal,  subsisting  in  grace  by  compulsion  as  one  never 
tempted,  with  no  more  merit  than  the  brute  beast  whose  actions 
are  performed  by  instinct.  Adam's  first  demand,  due  to  choice, 
brought  condemnation,  with  the  absolute  loss  to  himself  and  his 
posterity  of  that  beautiful  object,  the  undegenerate,  innocent  man. 
How  different  the  New  Adam  provided  for!     Personally,  hypostat- 


282  TBE  GLOBE. 

ically,  indissolnbly  united  to  a  Person  of  the  Godhead,  therefore 
not  a' human,  fallible  person.  In  truth,  he  was  man  with  no 
essential  attribute  of  manhood  wanting.  Reverently  dreaming, 
let  us  hastily  trace  the  steps  in  the  evolution  of  this  type  of  divine 
manhood — the  new  species  as  it  issues  forth,  not  from  the  lost 
Adam  in  his  integrity,  but  from  the  degenerate  race  marked  by 
the  innumerable  variations  due  to  individual  form  and  environ- 
ment to  which  he  humbled  himself.  Its  germ  is  first  discovered 
in  the  penance  of  Adam,  long  and  weary;  then  in  the  grand  catas- 
trophe that  brings  into  ascendancy  the  obedient  builder  of  the  ark. 
Year  after  year  drops  into  the  past,  and  Abraham  and  Isaac  and 
Jacob  and  Moses  are  set  apart,  trained  and  disciplined  by  severe 
trials,  and  accomplish  each  his  special  work.  The  original  com- 
mandments that  were  imprinted  in  the  conscience  of  Adam,  but 
afterwards  inextricably  mingled  in  the  confusion  of  error,  are 
placed,  engraved  upon  tablets  of  stone,  authoritatively  before  the 
people,  and  a  grand  exterior  form  of  public  worship  instituted  to 
maintain  their  influence  and  educate  the  people.  How  slow  the 
ages  move  !  How  far-reaching  the  words  of  prophets  !  How  per- 
verse the  people  !  But,  ''the  Lord  hath  sworn  truth  to  David  and 
He  will  not  make  it  void,  of  the  fruit  of  thy  womb  I  will  set  upon 
thy  throne."     (Ps.  cxxxi.  11.) 

Turtullian,  commenting  on  this  passage,  says ''But  by  men- 
tioning his  womb  it  follows  that  he  pointed  to  some  one  of  hia 
race  of  whose  body  the  flesh  of  Christ  was  to  be  the  fruit,  which 
bloomed  forth  from  Mary's  womb.  .  .  Now  because  Christ,  rather 
than  any  other,  was  to  build  the  temple  of  God,  that  is  to  say,  a 
holy  maiiliood,  wherein  God's  spirit  might  dwell  as  in  a  better 
temple,  therefore  Christ,  rather  than  David's  son  Solomon,  was  to 
be  looked  for  as  the  Son  of  God." 

At  length,  then,  the  Immaculate  womb  of  David's  offspring 
from  which  was  to  be  evolved  after  God's  manner,  a  holy  species  of 
manhood,  preserved  by  the  special  care  of  the  Most  High 
from  contracting  tiie  least  taint  in  her  descent  through  the 
bitter  waters  from  penitent  Adam  is  born  daughter  of  Joachim 
and  Anne.  Mary,  the  exquisitely  beautiful  fruit  of  all  the  divine 
care  bestowed  on  the  First  Adam  and  the  chosen  of  his  line  :  the 
creature  of  all  creatures  most  lovable  in  the  sight  of  the  Creator, 
she  represents  the  "survival  of  the  fittest"  in  the  Jiiges  preceding 
her,  is  the  true  human  germ  of  all  the  final  harmonies,  the  ideal 


DREAMS  OF  EVOLUTION,  28S 

proto-plast  ever  present  to  the  eye  of  the  creating  Artist,  motlier 
of  the  new  species  of  men,  foreseen  and  desired,  and  therefore  pro- 
vided for  by  the  Creator  in  the  evolution  of  the  ages.  Source  and 
progenitor  of  his  species,  the  New  Adam  is  her  son  without  human 
generation.  She,  and  she  alone,  conceived  God  in  her  lofty  intel- 
ligence so  effectually  and  in  the  full  exercise  of  her  natural  free- 
dom, as  to  give  him  a  created  nature  such  as  she  possessed. 

But  man  is,  in  his  natural  constitution,  a  social  being,  and 
requires  organized  society  to  complete  his  happiness.  The  Son  of 
Mary  who  is  Son  of  God,  therefore,  would  have  human  person- 
alities elevated  to  be  his  bretheren,"  The  Queen  Mother  must  have 
her  court.  The  species,  including  all  that  is  necessary  to  consti- 
tute the  essence  of  many  individuals,  as  the  definitions  say,  must 
have  a  numerous  representation;  and  so  the  patient  ages  wait  God's 
action,  while  one  by  one  individuals  who  have  a  human  generation, 
and  by  that  fact  are  microcosms,  are  constituted  divine  men  by  a 
higher  generation  according  to  the  fore  ordination  of  the  New 
Adam,  who  instituted  the  seven  sacraments  of  the  church  and 
gives  them  their  eflficacy  for  this  purpose  ;  and  who  shall  thus  con- 
stitute true  blood-relationship  with  God  in  Christ  Jesus?  "  I  have 
no  pleasure,"  said  St.  Ignatius,  the  Martyr,  ''in  corruptible  food 
nor  in  the  pleasures  of  this  life  ;  1  would  have  God's  bread, 
heavenly  bread,  bread  of  life  which  is  Flesh  of  Jesus  Christ  the 
Son  of  God,  who  was  born  afterwards  of  the  seed  of  David  and 
Abraham,  and  I  would  have  God's  draught,  his  blood  which  is 
love  incorruptible  and  ever-springing  life."  What  was  this  long- 
ing of  Ignatius  if  not  a  step  in  the  evolution  and  conversion  of  his 
whole  being  into  the  new  species  ?  Not  self-suflScing,  he  desired 
to  be  sustained  and  upheld  in  the  unity  of  Christ ;  to  have  a  larger 
participation  in  the  supernatural  being  of  God  than  belonged  to 
him  by  his  rational  nature.  And  was  not  his  desire  in  accordance 
with  the  will  of  his  Maker,  and  hence  part  of  the  revolutionary  pro- 
cess by  which  its  realization  has  been  effected? 

God,  without  whom  there  can  be  no  evolution  of  a  higher 
species  of  being,  became  in  Mary  the  Son  of  Man,  and  had  life  in 
himself  with  authority  to  execute  judgment  and  to  give  life  to 
whomsoever  he  would  (John  v.  21-27).  As  the  Son  of  Man  he 
had  power  to  forgive  sins  (Matt.  ix.  5-8),  and  to  make  a  transfer 
of  his  powers  to  others,  and  also  to  make  real  for  all  time  whatso- 
ever evolutionary  process  he  should  choose  in  order  to  bring  to 


284  TUB  GLOBE. 

perfection  his  everlasting  kingdom  ;  to  adapt  it  to  the  necessities 
of  the  poor  and  uncultured  who  had  been  trampled  into  the  mire 
of  degradation  by  the  pride  of  the  self-suflBcient.  The  great 
miracle  of  Christ's  advent  was  that  the  poor  had  the  gospel 
preached  to  them.  In  the  excess  of  his  mercy,  how  Christ  adds 
hope  to  hope  by  a  grant  of  purgatory,  that  dear  place  of  cleansing 
fires  where  evolution  ends,  in  which  we  weaklings  trust,  the  "  hay 
and  stubble"  and  all  the  dross  that  can  burn  will  be  destroyed, 
and  we  at  last,  aided  by  prayer,  in  super-completion  reach  the 
unchangeable.  As  disembodied  souls,  in  the  company  of  Jesus  and 
Mary,  radiant  in  full  manhood,  we  shall  await  in  the  new  garden 
of  transcendent  delights,  the  fullness  of  days,  the  final  catastrophe 
in  which  the  disintegration  of  all  chemical  compounds  and  the 
freeing  of  the  extensionless  elements  of  which  the  substantial 
molecules  of  matter  are  composed  will  take  place — the  general 
judgment — the  resurrection  of  bodies  and  reconstruction  of  the 
universe,  the  plan  of  which  remains  in  God's  knowledge  and  power, 
AVe  know  by  revelation  that  the  body  of  each  man  will  be  his  own 
in  the  resurrection ;  that  it  will  be  recognizable  and  share  in  per- 
sonal, acquired  merits,  reward  or  punishment  together  with  the 
soul ;  and  it  will  be  spiritual,  incorruptible  and  impervious  of 
change.  But  should  we  now  ask  if  the  hell  of  eternity,  the 
charnel-house  of  the  reconstructed  universe  with  its  adjustments 
to  the  universal  harmonies  of  beauty,  truth  and  justice  will  then 
be  regarded  in  its  various  strata  of  moral  turpitude,  as  scientists 
now  question  the  geological  strata  of  our  earth's  surface,  we  could 
not  answer.  Meanwhile,  as  our  dream  vanishes,  the  linking  of  the 
Divine  Man  through  his  immaculate  Mother  with  the  degraded 
rational  animal  suggests  analogies  and  queries  demanding  answers 
concerning  the  less  important  evolution,  if  there  was  evolution  of 
the  first  Adam  with  his  rational  nature  from  the  brute  animal 
with  its  instinct  and  sensibility. 

Elizabeth  A.  Adams. 


OUR  COLUMBIAN  ENCORE. 


In  all  human  history  there  is  no  nobler  figure  than  that  of 
Columbus  handing  over  to  civilization  a  new  world  with  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  trying  to  pluck  the  heart  of  the  old  world  out 


OUR  COLUMBIAN  ENCORE.  285 

of  the  grasp  of  the  infidel  and  place  it  in    the    safe-keeping  of 
modern  Christendom. 

Think  of  the  keen,  scientific  knowledge  of  the  man,  think  of 
his  prophetic  foresight,  of  his  patience,  endurance,  his  manly 
humility  under  trying  poverty  ;  of  the  scorn  and  contumely  he  bore 
from  kings  and  courtiers  ;  the  distrust  of  his  own  seamen^  the 
pluck,  the  iron  will,  the  ceaseless  effort,  the  hope  and  faith  that 
inspired  him  ;  the  noble  purposes,  the  dignity — under  misfortune, 
the  modesty  even  after  his  discovery  was  made,  his  battle  won,  and 
when  by  all  computation,  he  was,  by  far  the  largest  merely  human 
benefactor  the  human  race  has  ever  known. 

The  blood  tingles  with  admiration,  the  nerves  thrill  and  shiver 
with  noble  adoration;  the  whole  heart  beats  and  warms  with  love 
toward  him  as  toward  a  "heaven'"  inspired  teacher  and  benefactor, 
yea  as  to  some  elder,  heroic  brother  of  the  great  martyr  fraterni- 
ties who  have  made  this  world  a  resting  place  for  the  bravest  souls 
of  all  nations  and  times. 

It  matters  little  who  were  his  parents,  his  ancestors  ;  he  was  a 
new  son  of  man,  of  mankind,  a  child  of  the  race,  with  the  love  of 
God,  the  love  of  the  church,  the  love  of  his  fellows  ever  rising 
into  that  enthusiasm  which  alone  is  the  true  guide  of  the  soul. 

Just  four  hundred  years  ago,  from  the  time  of  this  writing  he 
was  wearily  moving  almost  upon  his  knees  in  humble  prostration 
from  King  to  King  ;  from  nation  to  nation;  a  beggar  to-day  in  one 
convent,  then  in  another,  encouraged  by  this  good  monk,  discour- 
aged by  another,  his  hands  drooping  with  the  weight  of  new 
worlds  while  he  was  pleading  for  a  pittance  to  keep  him  alive  and 
help  him  to  give  those  worlds  to  mankind. 

Such  a  sight  was  never  before  seen  on  this  earth — the  supremest 
man  of  the  race  humbling  himself  to  become  a  beggar;  sailing 
unknown  seas  amid  mutiny  and  the  jeering  unbelief  of  the  nations 
in  order  to  conquer  new  continents  out  of  the  oceans  and  dedicate 
them  to  the  Queen  of  Heaven  and  the  pure  religion  of  the  incar- 
nate eternal  God. 

With  such  a  discoverer,  such  a  founder,  such  a  beginning,  what 
ought  not  this  American  continent  to  have  been?  what  ought  it  not 
yet  to  be,  in  all  human  brotherhood,  in  all  Christian  truth,  in  all 
devout  worship;  in  all  pure  charity?  Surely  this  land  does  not 
belong  to  the  politician  or  the  devil;  no  matter  how  successful  thier 
usurpation  may  seem  for  a  while.     To  prayers,  to  arms,  every 

7 


286  THE  GLOBE. 

brave  son  and  daughter  of  Adam  and  let  us  reconquer  and  capture 
forever  this  land  for  the  service  and  honor  of  Christ  and  for  the 
good  of  our  fellow  men. 

Why  should  I  tell  over  again  in  these  pages,  in  any  detail,  the 
story  told  so  beautifully  by  Irving  a  generation  ago?  A  story  that 
has  been  told  and  retold  with  a  thousand  variations  in  all  the 
newspapers  and  magazines  of  this  land  during  the  last  two  years? 
A  story  that  every  American  school  boy  and  school  girl  knows  by 
heart  before  entering  the  ranks  of  mature  life  or  mature  reading? 

I  have  satisfied  myself  that  no  man  or  woman  alive  to-day 
knows  where  Columbus  was  born,  and  I  do  not  care  where  he 
was  born,  though  I  would  like  to  know  it  for  sure.  And  were  I 
to  write  such  a  life  of  the  man  as  ought  yet  to  be  written,  I  would 
sift  to  the  last  particle  of  dust  in  the  evidence  of  the  world  to  try 
to  settle  that  point;  but  it  is  useless  taking  up  valuable  space 
simply  to  show  that  one  has  been  over  the  ground  witliout  reaching 
any  new  evidence  or  any  satisfactory  conclusion.  No  body  knows 
where  Columbus  was  born.  The  quality  and  extent  of  his  educa- 
tion are  as  uncertain  as  the  place  of  his  birth.  Like  Bismarck  and 
Shakespeare,  and  Homer,  and  Goethe,  and  a  host  of  other  giants 
of  the  soul,  Columbus  is  proof  of  the  fact  that  when  the  Almighty 
undertakes  to  make  a  soul  of  new  pattern  and  new  dimensions, 
a  soul  that  is  to  open  new  spaces  in  the  heavens,  new  vistas 
in  the  oceans  and  lands  of  the  earth;  new  horizons  of  thought 
and  culture  for  mankind  ;  to  build  new  temples  of  worship,  to 
utter  new  words  of  wisdom,  fire,  power,  inspiration,  revelation  and 
salvation  of  the  human  race.  He  is  not  in  the  habit  of  muzzling 
such  soul  with  the  ordinary  trappings  and  strappings  of  our 
o-called  popular  or  classical  education,  but  is  sure  to  keep  such 
soul  free  as  the  air  of  heaven,  to  give  it  space  to  grow  as  the  greatest 
trees  of  the  forest  all  have  space,  and  conquer  it  if  need  be  to  reach 
their  God-appointed  size  and  destiny;  is  pretty  sure  also  to  give 
such  soul  such  light  divine  as  will  guide  it,  lead  it  to  seek  that 
information  needed  at  the  hour  and  for  the  work  to  be  done,  and 
out  of  all  this  freedom,  air  light,  and  divine  guidance  to  fit  such 
soul  to  reach  its  goal,  to  find  its  continent,  sing  its  song,  utter 
its  word,  and  through  untold  disaster,  opposition,  petty  suspicion 
and  Judas-like  betrayal,  to  win  its  victory  and  be  the  untold 
blessing  to  the  world  that  a  truly  great  man  is  always  sure  to  be. 


0  VR  COL  UMBIAN  ENCORE.  287 

It  is  of  no  consequence  where  or  how  Columbus  was  educated. 
'*E'en  the  light  that  led  astray  was  light  from  Heaven."  lie  was 
so  educated  that  he  knew  as  much  astronomy  as  the  best  astrono- 
mers of  his  time;  he  was  so  educated  that  he  knew  all  the  geogra- 
phy worth  knowing  in  his  day;  so  educated  that  he  was  in  familiar 
correspondence  with  the  best  scholars  of  his  time  on  these  points, 
and  these  points  of  education  were  those  out  of  which  the  New 
World,  the  new  continents,  the  new  nations  of  these  broad  and 
glorious  lands  and  seas  and  lakes  and  rivers  and  mountains,  and 
days  and  inspirations  and  liberty  and  glory  were  to  spring  ; 
hence  these  were  the  salient  points  of  education  for  the 
New  World-soul  the  new  cross  bearer,  God  server  and  world 
saver  of  these  days  and  generations;  hence  again  his  education, 
like  his  birth,  was  a  new  miracle  of  Providence,  a  new  man 
born  and  educated  of  God  to  find  the  way  to  and  discover 
the  new  land,  and  the  new  liberty  of  the  days  to  come.  And  why 
should  I  go  over  again  at  any  length  in  these  pages  the  mooted  story 
of  the  domestic  relations  of  this  great  man?  Mr.  Irving  thought 
that  his  second  marriage  was  no  marriage,  I  believe;  no  telling 
what  had  become  of  his  first  wife  to  begin  with,  and  naturally 
Catholic  writers  on  Columbus  are  critics  of  Mr.  Irving  on  this  and 
on  other  points.  For  the  sake  of  the  integrity  of  the  church, 
no  less  than  of  the  fame  of  Columbus,  they  insist  that  the  first 
wife  was  dead,  or  sufficiently  unworthy,  and  a  second  marriage, 
legal,  proper,  and  ecclesiastical;  and  the  presumption  is  in  favor  of 
this  thesis.  As  Columbus  was  a  true  and  devout  Catholic  there  is 
every  reason  to  presume  that  he  did  not  attempt  to  override  or 
disregard  the  usage  and  law  of  the  church  on  this  important  mat- 
ter. Nevertheless  there  are  not  wanting  in  these  days  protestant 
preachers  so  bigoted,  base  and  narrow  in  their  hatred  of  the  Catho- 
lic church,  that  to  gratify  their  spleen  alone  they  have  in  Chicago 
and  elsewhere  tried  to  show,  that,  for  all  his  piety  and  supersti- 
tion, Columbus  was  a  libertine,  a  faithless  husband,  an  unfaithful 
father,  and  a  man  so  fallen  in  the  scale  of  morals  as  to  be  willing 
to  live  with  a  woman  as  his  wife,  when  as  a  matter  of  fact  and  law, 
she  was  not  and  could  not  be  his  wife  at  all. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  have  any  new  historic  light  on  this  subject. 
I  do  not  find  any  writer  that  has  any  new  light  himself  *  but  this 
I  know  on  the  general  and  eternal  principle  of  human  nature,  that  a 
man  with  the  faith  and  faithfulness  of  Columbus  in  all  other  matters 


388  THE  GLOBE. 

could  not  have  been  a  faithless  o?  an  unfaithful  husband  or  father, 
and  if  the  first  wife  was  not  dead  when  Columbus  took  to  himself  a 
second  wife,  I  am  sure  that  she  was  so  much  worse  than  dead  that 
Columbus  felt  justified  in  his  own  heart  and  conscience  in  treating 
her  as  dead — to  him,  at  least;  and  those  small  men  of  these  times, 
preachers,  priests,  or  what  not,  who,  in  their  unjust  and  often 
contemptible  officialism,  pretend  and  presume  to  sit  in  judgment 
upon  men  a  thousand  times  greater,  purer  and  more  unselfish  and 
martyr-like  than  themselves,  have  only  my  pity,  verging  as  near 
to  contempt  as  Christian  charity  will  allow. 

A  plague  upon  that  petty  person  who,  to  gratify  his  ignorant  and 
contemptible  hatred  of  the  Catholic  church  would  go  out  of  his 
way  to  defame  this  giver  of  new  worlds  and  new  liberties  to  the 
nations  of  men.  Is  brother  Fulton  a  faultless  saint?  Could  Talm- 
adge  pass  muster  under  the  electric  lights  of  sanctity  ?  Who  are 
these  mouthing  Methodist  upstarts  of  a  day  with  their  crude  cant 
of  temperance  and  tobacco.  Was  the  world  made  for  them  ?  or 
that  they  should  simply  splurge  on  Sunday  and  live  their  common 
lives  of  idle  worldliness  during  six  days  out  of  seven  ? 

Are  these  the  men  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  a  man  like  Colum- 
bus, because  he  might  have  had  a  shrew  of  a  wife  and  was,  as  much 
by  her  as  by  providence  divine,  driven  an  *'  exile"  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  and  the  seas  ?  I  am  no  apologist  for  vice.  I  simply  ask 
these  crude  and  ignorant  critics  of  a  great  man  to  fire  their  boulders 
of  higlipriestism  at  their  own  shallow  heads:  to  test  their  poor 
protestantism  and  their  open  bible  upon  their  own  maudlin  and 
unheroic  lives. 

I  am  satisfied  that  Columbus  had  domestic  and  and  other  virtues 
-enough  in  his  vest  pocket  to  supply  all  the  canting  Fultons  in 
Christendom  with  more  virtue  of  that  sort  than  they  ever  yet  have 
dreamed  of  ;  and  if  Columbus  must  be  criticed  on  this  head,  let 
the  facts,  the  sacred  facts,  first  be  gotten  at,  8,nd  then  let  a  council 
of  his  peers  sit  in  judgment  upon  them,  meanwhile  all  the  small 
potato  parsons  and  other  haters  of  the  church  should  let  Colum- 
bus alone. 

Again,  why  should  I  go  over  in  these  pages  the  well-worn 
story  of  the  many  wanderings  of  Columbus,  seeking  some  man  who 
knew  a  little  something  about  this  God's  earth  of  ours;  seeking  a 
monied  man  with  heart  big  enough  to  help  this  new  child  of  des- 
tiny to  open  new  worlds  for  wealth  and  fame;  seeking  in  the  church 


OUR  COLUMBIAN  ENCORE.  289 

and  its  convents  such  food  and  shelter,  and  sympathy  as  angels 
might  have  given  had  they  but  known  the  heart  and  purposes  of 
the  hero  of  the  hour:  seeking  at  last  at  the  feet  of  the  beautiful  and 
gifted  Isabella  of  Castile— noblest  woman  and  queen  of  her  genera- 
tion, and  not  in  vain;  but  at  la«t  finding  those  "aids  to  faith"  and 
action  that  sped  the  Santa  Maria  and  her  unwilling  companions 
across  the  dark  waters  of  the  then  unknown  Atlantic  sea?  And 
whether  there  was  a  council  of  Salamanca  or  not,  who  cares. 
Councils  do  not  discover  worlds.  Meanwhile  memorable  to  me 
forever  in  time  and  eternity  is  that  fatal  6th  of  September,  when  the 
great  explorer  left  the  known  shores  of  the  old  world  of  faith  to  try 
the  new  and  bitter  waters  of  fact  and  mutiny  and  death,  till  he 
reached  the  new  world  of  hope  and  light  and  flowers,  and  new  liberties 
and  glories  yet  to  be.  Fatal  and  yet  immortally  victorious  day, 
I  hail  thee  as  a  day  of  death,  that  liad  to  be  made  eternally  victor- 
ious through  suffering  and  patience  and  contumely  and  death  again 
till  that  final  opening  of  the  heavens  that  swept  him  to  his  own 
among  the  stars. 

Remember  that  fatal  sixth  of  September,  every  brave  man 
who  would  on  that  day  begin  any  new  enterprise  henceforth  in  all 
the  tides  of  time.  It  is  an  accursed  day,  but  like  all  days  and  all 
hells  within  them,  it  can  be,  must  be  conquered  for  truth  and  God 
and  the  immortal  victories  of  faith  and  love. 

Who  has  not  puzzled  and  wept  over  the  old  story  of  the  first 
voyage  of  Columbus  across  the  dark  and  trackless  sea;  who  has 
not  knelt  with  him  in  spirit  as,  with  a  divine  illumination  in  his 
eyes,  he  knelt  beside  the  blessed  cross  in  this  new  world,  and  gave 
it  back  to  God  who  had  given  it  to  him  and  to  the  nations  of  the 
future  through  his  faith  and  zeal.  I  wholly  agree  with  that  Cath- 
olic enthusiast  who  has  said  that  had  there  been  no  new  world 
where  Columbus  found  ours,  the  great  God  would  have  created  a 
world  to  order  in  reward  of  such  faith  as  Columbus  manifested; 
and  has  it  not  been  said  that  if  ye  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard 
seed,  you  shall  say  to  this  or  that  mountain,  be  thou  removed  hence, 
and  it  shall  obey  you.  True  faith  is  eternally  the  true  apostolic 
power. 

And  why  should  I  linger  over  the  first,  second  or  third  voyages 
of  Columbus,  or  over  the  troubles  he  knew  by  land  and  sea ;  the 
shipwrecks;  the  treachery  of  friend  and  foe  ;  the  disasters  that  befel 
many  of  his  ventures ;  the  perfidy  of  men  who  should  at  least 


290  THE  GLOBE. 

have  appreciated  his  loyalty  to  the  church  if  they  had  not  minds 
large  enough  to  appreciate  his  gift  to  the  world  ?  But  a  great  man 
is  always  the  envy  as  well  as  the  glory  of  his  age ;  and  all  the 
small  men  of  pretension  that  come  in  his  way  are  sure  to  be  his 
bitter  foes.  Moreover,  though  the  Church  was  always  infallible  in 
its  final  official  utterances,  many  Catholics  as  well  as  protestants 
have  gone  down  to  hell .  **  Have  I  not  chosen  you  twelve,  and  one  of 
you  is  a  devil  ?  "  said  the  Divine  Lord  and  Master  of  us  all.  Take 
every  twelfth  sinner  out  of  the  circles  of  Catholics  you  know,  and  you 
may  find  that  the  reputation  of  the  Church  for  virtue  has  not  suf- 
fered these  last  eighteen  hundred  years.  I  used  to  want  to  tear  to 
pieces  the  hypocritical  knaves,  who,  in  the  name  of  official  eccle- 
siastical capacity  made  the  way  of  life  harder  than  death  for  Colum- 
bus; but  I  find  that  there  is  no  escape  for  any  great  man  from 
those  sufferings  that  alike  test  his  strength  and .  keep  down  his 
eternal  pride.  God  knows  what  is  best  for  us  all ;  and  if  a  Judas 
is  needed  to  betray  his  Master,  why  the  Judas  will  be  there;  in 
Chicago  or  elsewhere  in  these  days  as  of  old.  Poor  wretch  ;  he  is 
not  to  blame.  "  Father  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what  they 
do.'^ 

And  why  linger  over  those  last  scenes,  so  touching,  so  tender, 
when  this  poor  Bohemian  beggar  had  proven  his  thesis  ;  and  had 
handed  over  to  the  nation  the  greatest  gift  ever  bestowed  by  mortal 
man?  Still  he  was  poor,  stillasuppliant,  still  had  to  depend  upon  the 
love  and  appreciation  and  bounty  of  the  Queen  to  furnish  proper 
apparel  and  escort  that  he  might  once  more  appear  in  her  presence; 
and  still  spite  of  his  unparalleled  greatness  and  gifts,  he  was  con- 
scious of  his  poverty,  conscious  to  timidity  of  the  beauty  and  good- 
ness and  grandeur  of  the  Queen,  and  a  little  kindness — think  of  it, 
ye  men  and  angels,  and  do  it  over  again  while  you  know  it  not. 
Think  of  this  prodigy  of  greatness  and  beneficence  touched  to 
tears  by  a  kind  expression  from  a  woman  who  happened  to  be  a 
queen  !  And  perhaps  a  greater  than  Columbus  may  be  giving 
you  new  worlds  of  thought  to-day,  and  you  spurn  him  or  pity  him 
a  little,  and  would  love  him  and  worship  him  were  you  not  afraid. 
God  pity  the  hardened  and  the  proud.  So  the  greatest  discoverer 
and  by  all  odds  the  greatest  merely  human  benefactor  of  the  human 
race,  dragged  his  aged  limbs  in  chains  and  crept  a  suppliant 
through  poverty  to  an  unknown  grave  still  to  stars  and  star- 
spaces  where  the  angels  extend   their  welcome  to  all  heroic  souls. 


0  UR  COL  UMBIAN  ENCORE.  291 

For,  precisely  as  nobody  knows  where  Columbus  was  born,  so 
nobody  knows  which  is  his  coffin,  and  where  his  remains  are  to 
this  day.  I  have  been  over  the  coffin  stories  as  often  as  1  have  over 
the  stories  of  his  earlier  years  ;  but  it  is  just  so  with  William  Penn, 
perhaps  still  more  so  with  "William  Shakespeare  ;  though  William's 
threatened  curse  upon  the  vandals  that  might  desire  to  move  his 
bones  may  have  scared  the  ghouls  away,  for  your  ghoul  is  a  coward 
in  the  face  of  a  curse  from  the  dead. 

To-day,  after  four  hundred  years  of  waiting,  we  Americans  a 
mixed  population  of  all  the  white  races  of  the  world,  are  about  to 
garnish  the  old  hero's  sepulcher  with  such  wreaths  of  roses  and 
such  shouts  of  gratitude  as  no  man  ever  before  received,  and  I  am 
writing  not  so  much  of  Columbus  as  of  our  Columbian  encore. 

Only  a  few  days  previous  to  this  writing  I  heard  of  an  Ameri- 
can protestant  so  pitiable  in  his  bigotry,  so  petty  in  his  soulless 
soul,  as  to  regret  that  Columbus,  being  a  Catholic,  ever  discovered 
America.  Again,  there  are  not  wanting  more  intelligent  people 
who  would  whittle  down  the  glory  of  Columbus,  and  throw  a  little 
cold  water  on  this  splendid  year  of  celebration,  by  emphasizing 
the  fact  and  the  importance  of  the  fact  that  America  was  dis- 
covered by  the  Norsemen  from  three  to  four  hundred  years  before 
Columbus  was  born. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  Norsemen  did  discover  and  visit  the 
shores  of  New  England  about  as  claimed  by  their  advocates  in 
these  days.  I  have  also  no  doubt  that  certain  Western  Asiatics 
came  here  many  hundreds  of  years  earlier,  and  by  various  mixtures 
evolved  themselves  into  the  tribes  of  Semitic  red  men  found  here 
when  Columbus  came. 

God  only  knows  who  discovered  and  begot  Hamlet  and  Lear. 
All  the  world  knows  that  William  Shakespeare  made  them  immor- 
tal. So  it  was  with  Columbus  and  our  America.  The  Asiatics 
came,  and,  like  Walt  Whitman — whom  the  amateurs  claim  as  a 
poet — loafed  and  stayed;  the  Norsemen  came  and  saw,  and  tried 
to  conquer,  but  did  not  conquer  and  could  not  stay.  Columbus  was 
made  of  sterner  stuff,  and  wherever  he  was  born,  represented  that  ro- 
seate cheeked,  high-browed,  persistent  race  of  the  children  of  Ja- 
phet,  who  for  the  last  four  thousand  years  in  Europe,and  finally  here, 
have  come,  and  have  seen,  and  have  conquered  every  inch  of  soil  and 
every  nomadic,  Asiatic,  Celtic  or  other  tribe  they  have  laid  their 
feet  or  hands  upon.      And  Columbus  is  to  the  intrepid,  persistent. 


292  THE  QLOBE. 

brave  sailors  and  discoverer  of  the  race  what  William  Shakespeare 
is  to  its  dramatic  poets  and  poetry — simply  master  of  the  world; 
and  a  man  who  would  try  to  belittle  the  fame  of  Columbus  because 
he  was  a  Catholic,  or  because  he  had  borne  unexplained  domestic 
infelicity,  or  because  some  fumbling  Norsemen,  or  Asiatics  came 
here  some  centuries  before  him  may  be  an  excellent  Methodist  or 
Baptist,  but  he  is  still  and  nevertheless  a  most  pitiable  small 
potato  sort  of  man. 

John  Wesley  did  not  get  along  at  all  well  with  his  wife,  and 
there  have  not  been  wanting  many  prying  and  curious  people  to 
intimate  that  John^s  great  missionary  zeal  was  prompted  to  no 
inconsiderable  degree  by  the  incompatibility  of  the  shrew  he  left 
behind  him;  and  as  for  Baptists,  I  could  tell  you  stories  of  individ- 
ual Baptists  that  would  make  the  old  reprobate  ex-Father  Chineky, 
blush  for  shame.  A  plague  upon  such  foolish  stuff.  To  his  own 
master  a  man  standeth  or  falleth.  What  is  it  to  me  that  a  mere 
mouthing  hypocrite,  sycophant  of  a  parson  or  priest  takes  me  for  a 
liar.  Who  art  thou  that  judgest  thy  brother  and  condemnest  thy- 
self ?  for  thou  doest  the  same  thing. 

There  is  not  a  man  on  earth  but  needs  that  the  stones  you 
throw  at  him  should  be  clothed  and  padded  with  charity,  and  we 
all  like  our  medicine  sugar-coated. 

I  am  not  apologizing  for  the  faults  of  Columbus  ;  of  course  he 
had  faults  but  pick  at  your  own  rotten  teeth,  you  poor  modern 
clown.  Suppose  your  faults  were  blazed  in  the  sun  ;  who  could 
stand  even  the  odor  of  them  ? 

Columbus  may  not  have  been  "  all  right/'  to  use  the  slang  of 
the  day,  but  he  was  too  good  and  great  and  is  now  too  hide-bound 
with  fame  and  glory  for  your  poor,  puny  shafts  of  enmity  to  hurt 
him. 

The  question  for  us  Americans,  it  seems  to  me,  is  rather  this  : 
Are  we  in  any  spirit  or  frame  of  mind  rightly  to  honor  this  great 
man?  Are  we  not  a  people  too  ready  to  garnish  the  sepulchres  of 
the  heroes,  and  too  ready  at  the  same  time  to  murder  and  destroy 
the  truly  heroic  souls  living  to-day  among  ourselves?  Are  we,  any 
of  us,  fit  to  lay  offerings  of  love  or  gratitude  upon  the  tomb  or  altar 
of  this  man's  temple  of  fame?  Has  not  our  poor  slipshod  cant  of 
democracy,  whereby  every  scoundrel  cur  of  a  man  is  liable  to  be 
reated  better  than  a  truly  great  man,  incapacitated  us  from  rightly 


OUR  COLUMBIAN  ENCORE.  293 

seeing  or  honoring  the  memory  of  a  man  of  the  dimensions  of 
Columbus? 

For,  I  tell  you  again,  this  man  was  no  mere  work-a-day 
person  or  shopkeeper,  but  a  hero,  God-made,  with  a  soul  devoted 
to  truth  and  duty:  in  a  word,  he  was  just  such  a  soul  as  you  would 
spit  upon  and  crown  with  thorns  and  kick  in  the  gutter,  and  call  a 
crank  in  these  wonderful  days.  But  the  true  crank  winds  the 
world  about  his  fingers  and  tramples  it  under  his  feet  after  awhile. 

I  am  not  a  pessimist ;  I  trust  in  God.  If  the  world  needed 
another  Columbus  to-day  God  would  make  him  to  order.  He 
never  has  failed.  We  needed  something  greater  than  Columbus, 
and  it  has  been  provided,  but  the  age  never  has  known  its  Savior 
till  the  Savior  has  died  in  darkness  to  save  the  age  that  misunder- 
stood him.  It  is  so  to-day.  Your  very  eyes  are  holden — by  sin — 
that  you  cannot  see,  till  the  full  word  and  light  needed  by  this 
age  has  been  uttered,  and  after  that — the  judgment,  as  usual.    . 

I  do  not  wonder  that  it  has  taken  our  so-called  American,  that 
is,  our  conglomerate  and  unamalgamated  American  people  four 
hundred  years  to  wake  up  to  the  fact  of  the  great  work  Columbus 
did  for  us. 

We  are  not  half  as  smart  as  we  think,  except  with  a  kind  of 
beaver  smartness,  which  helps  us  to  build  dams  that  we  may  the 
more  readily  pass  over  on  our  way  to  hell.  In  truth  it  takes  the 
American  people  a  dreadful  while  to  get  any  truly  heroic,  moral 
or  spiritual  truth  down  its  dapper  throat,  or  into  their  ears  or  eyes  or 
brains.  Take  the  truth  about  slavery,  for  instance.  How  long  did 
it  take,  and  what  did  it  cost  us?  Set  all  the  double  entry  book- 
keeping and  embezzling  and  booming  scoundrels  in  America  to 
work  on  that  problem.  Will  they  figure  it  out  in  a  million  years? 
In  truth,  we  are  a  very  slow  and  slovenly  crowd  in  morals  and  in 
all  the  higher  realms  of  the  calculus  of  history  and  the  human 
soul.  In  truth,  Columbus  was  so  great  that  four  hundred  years 
would  be  a  short  time  for  us  to  be  expected  to  size  up  his  greatness. 
I  have  no  idea  that  we  have  done  it  yet;  most  of  us  think  to-day 
that  we  are  greater  and  smarter  men  than  he;  but  it  is  the  fad  of 
the  hour  to  go  to  Chicago  and  do  honor  to  him  and  so  we  go. 

In  truth,  the  American  people  have  been  too  busy  to  study  or 
practice  morals.  Columbus  gave  us  a  continent,  and  we  hud  to 
intoxicate  and  debauch  and  debase  and  steal  from  and  murder  the 
natives  and  subdue  this  continent,  and  partiton  it  off  among  tariff 


294  TUE  GLOBE. 

thieves  before  we  could  take  time  to  look  into  the  moral  of  it,  or  to 
remember  the  greatest  giver  that  ever  gave  gifts  unto  men. 

From  1492  to  1592  our  forefathers  of  all  nations  were  trying  to 
make  a  landing  here,  to  stay  here,  to  pluck  Columbus  of  his 
honors,  Spain  of  her  priority  of  rights  ;  to  enslave  and  debauch  and 
destroy  the  peaceable  natives  they  found  here,  and  to  put  money  in 
their  own  purses.  Fortunately,  the  most  reliable  historian  of  that 
Catholic  age  was  a  Catholic — the  venerable  Las  Casas, — and  as  he 
did  not  want  to, paint  his  brethren  blacker  than  they  deserved,  we 
may  be  sure  the  rascals  were  many  times  blacker  than  they  seem  ; 
and  we  may  thank  God  that  the  rascals  all  died  without  barbariz- 
ing the  natives  more  than  they  did.  I  admit,  gladly  admit,  all  the 
pluck  and  endurance  manifested  in  that  age  of  further  discovery 
and  further  settlement,  I  admit  gladly  all  the  beautiful  mission- 
ary zeal  of  the  Church  and  her  true  representatives,  from  Columbus 
to  Isabella,  to  Las  Casas,  to  the  last  hard-working,  self-sacrificing 
Catholic  priest  of  Chicago  in  these  very  times.  But  !  ye  heavens  ! 
the  Judases  there  have  been,  and  still  are,  among  them  ! 

From  1592  to  1692  the  battle  already  begun  between  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  Protestant  and  the  Slavic,  south  of  Europe  Catholic  nations 
for  supremacy  on  this  continent,  was  gradually  deciding  itself  in 
favor  of  the  xYnglo-Saxon  and  Protestant;  and  tlie  sainted  Puritans 
of  New  England,  especially  from  1640  to  1692,  were  doing  over 
again  among  the  natives  of  the  north  just  what  the  jail-birds  and 
reprobates  of  Spain  and  the  southern  European  nations  had  done  a 
century  earlier  and  were  still  doing,  as  they  had  power.  Only  the 
Puritans  added  this  crime  to  their  savagry — that  they  treated  their 
brother  white  men  from  Europe  who  did  not  swear  by  their  creeds 
even  worse  than  they  treated  the  Indians.  So  I  never  weary  of 
saying  that  civilization  is  a  very  queer  thing,  my  friends;  and,  next 
to  patriotism,  so-called,  has  perpetrated  more  lyings,  revolutions, 
crimes  and  murders  on  this  earth  than  all  the  savages,  barbarians 
and  paganisms  of  all  the  universe  besides. 

If  I  had  not  been  born  a  white  man  I  think  I  should  like  to 
have  been  born  a  native  American  (Indian),  so-called,  with  an  arm 
strong  enough  to.  annihilate  the  entire  paleface  brood  of  robbers 
and  murderers  in  all  nations  of  the  world.  But  how,  then,  would 
the  ways  of  Providence  have  been  fulfilled?  Fortunately  I  was 
not  born  a  savage  and  had  not  that  mighty  arm.  But  if  you  think 
that  the  denouement  of  all  this  is  simply  your  boasted  tariff-ridden 


0  UR  COL  UMBIAN  ENCOBE.  295 

American  civilization  of  these  days,  yon  are  the  most  mistaken 
man  in  the  world  ;  and  if  God  spares  my  life  twenty  years  longer, 
I  will  come  back  upon  your  hecatombs  and  pyramids  and  moun- 
tains of  slain  and  tell  you  the  full  meaning  of  this  great  story  that 
I  dare  not  tell  you  now.  Know  this,  however,  that  this  land  was 
not  discovered  by  a  Catholic,  and  the  cross  planted  here  merely  for 
such  fools  as  Ingersoll  &  Co.  to  thrive  on,  and  if  you  can  not  read 
the  signs  of  the  times  in  joy  and  prosperity  you  will  read  them 
through  blood  and  tears  ;  that  is  all  I 

From  1692  to  1792,  the  Yankeeized  Anglo-Saxon  on  this  con- 
tinent, now  a  power  in  the  land,  and  largely  for  fear  of  Episco- 
pacy and  Catholicity,  was  plotting  rebellion  against  the  mother 
country,  getting  ahead  with  his  fortune,  and  finally  setting  up  for 
himself  in  the  continental  congress  so-called:  Declarations  of  Inde- 
pendence, rights  of  man,  rights  of  states,  etc.,  all  swarming  in  his 
active  brain,  and  still  there  was  no  time  to  think  of  Columbus, 
the  great  Catholic  giver  of  this  land  to  the  men  of  all  future 
times.  In  my  review  of  John  Dickinson,  Vol.  II,  No.  7,  of  the 
Globe,  I  have  gone  over  this  period  with  some  care,  and  will  not 
repeat  the  work  here.  Like  the  white  man^s  debauchery  of  the  red 
man,  the  American  revolution  had  to  be.  Like  Luther's  reforma- 
tion, so-called,  the  American  revolution  had  to  be,  but  for  far 
other  causes  and  ends  than  the  Yankees  of  that  day  or  of  this  day 
dreamed  or  dream  of.  And  again  I  wait  the  opening  of  the  seal 
of  time  before  telling  you  why  it  all  came  about.  But  we  had  no 
time  to  honor  Columbus  during  the  third  century  of  our  Ameri- 
can civilization,  and  the  ruling  factions  had  no  inclination  to  do  so. 

From  1792  to  1892,  we  have  been  subduing  the  continent  in 
earnest,  making  new  discoveries  in  science  so  called  ;  getting  an 
inkling,  through  Europe,  of  literary  and  Biblical  criticism  so  called, 
making  enormous  fortunes,  and  extending  our  laws  a  little 
toward  moral  and  spiritual  culture,  but  on  the  safe  side,  and  with 
all  physical  comfort  as  adjuncts,  if  you  please,  and  we  have  had 
our  eyes  opened  by  one  bloody  and  fearful  civil  war,  by  two  assas- 
sinations of  our  presidents,  by  our  great  centennial  exhibition  in 
Philadelphia  in  1876,  by  new  and  world-famous  birthsof  cities  like 
Chicago,  and  grad  ually,  as  by  an  angel  in  the  night,  while  the 
Yankee  has  been  suppressing  his  offspring,  and  playing  at  the  game 
of  culture  with  the  imps  of  perdition,  the  Celt  of  Ireland  and  the 
Slav  of  Northern  Europe,  and  the  German  and  the  Anglo-Saxon — 


296  THE  GLOBE. 

not yankeeized,  but  Christianized,  catholicised,  touched  with  a  touch 
of  divine  grace,  and  not  suppressing  their  offspring — have  been 
coming  into  possession  until  there  are  Catholics  enough  in  thi» 
land,  lovers  of  Columbus,  believers  in  Christ,  and  believers  in 
martyrdom  for  Christ's  sake,  enough  of  us,  I  say,  to  swing  this 
whole  nation  into  the  line  of  one  grand  universal  Columbian 
Catholic  Celebration.  So  after  four  hundred  years  the  murderer 
goes  to  the  rear  for  a  day  and  the  Catholic  Christian  takes  his 
place  as  the  leader  of  this  land. 

Trot  out  your  poor  old  feeble  Dr.  Holmes,  and  let  him  be  your 
poet ;  though  poet  he  never  was  nor  will  be. 

Bring  over  your  great  Prince  Bismarck  though  the  scepter  of 
the  nations  has  long  since  passed  out  of  his  pagan  hands ;  nail 
your  puritan  theses  on  the  closed  gates  of  the  Columbian  exhibi- 
tion on  Sunday;  the  children  of  Columbus,  have,  after  four 
hundred  years,  come  again,  and  have  seen,  and  have  conquered, 
and  the  day  is  ours.  I  speak  in  no  spirit  of  sectarianism,  but  sim- 
ply as  I  have  spoken  in  each  number  of  the  Globe  from  its  incipi- 
ency — that  is  as  a  Christian  man.  Catholic  Christian  man, 
hating  all  shams  and  lies  and  baseness,  and  bound  to  fight  it  out 
on  this  line  if  it  takes  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  my  veins. 

It  was  my  privilege  to  be  in  the  city  of  New  York  on  the  12th 
of  October,  1892,  and  to  witness  the  countless  miles  of  splendor  of 
decoration  on  the  river,  on  the  masts  of  all  her  ships,  and  on  her 
main  thoroughfares  in  commemoration  of  the  day  of  Columbus' dis- 
covery according  to  the  old  reckoning,  and  the  same  evening  I  was 
in  Philadelphia  and  saw  the  splendid  parade  made  by  the  Catholics 
of  that  city  in  honor  of  Columbus;  and  an  excellent  gentlemen, 
Mr.Tuckerman  of  Boston,  sent  me  a  glowing  account  of  the  Boston 
celebration  of  the  same  date,  and  I  had  intended  to  weave  into  this 
article  some  of  the  beauty  and  glory  of  the  celebrations  of  these 
great  cities  ;  but,  like  Anthony  and  his  Caesar,  I  am  a  poor,  plain 
blunt  man,  and  speak  right  out  the  sober  and  awful  truths  I  am 
intrusted  with,  and  have  little  time  for  the  decorations  of  the 
holidays  so  dear  to  the  world. 

My  final  thought  is  that,  unless  we  want  this  land  to  go  to  the 
devil  we  must  be  more  like  Columbus  in  our  spirit  of  heroism, 
love  of  truth,  consecration  to  duty,  love  of  the  Church  and  conse- 
cration to  God.  These  things  ought  we  to  have  done,  and  not  to 
have  left  the  others  undone. 


OPEN  THE  EXPOSITION  SUNDA  Y8.  297 

I  had  also  fully  intended  to  quote  and  commend  in  this  arti- 
cle the  beautiful  testimony  of  Edward  Everett  Hale  as  given 
in  the  symposium  of  the  New  York  Independent  last  spring,  and 
on  the  basis  of  this  to  show  how,  sure  as  God,  after  the  puritan, 
liberalized,  has  gone  on  battering  and  scratching  his  poor  feet  against 
the  scattered  spa  wis  of  Plymouth  Rock  for  another  hundred  years, 
he  will  be  glad  to  turn  to  the  light  and  rest  and  peace  of  the  one 
and  only  true  Church  of  God  in  this  world.  But  I  have  preached 
my  little  sermon  and  must  bide  my  time. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


OPEN  THE  EXPOSITION  ON  SUNDAYS. 


When  I  was  a  young  Presbyterian  minister,  in  1856-57,  I  made 
a  special  study  of  what  is  often  called  the  Sabbath  question,  and 
preached  a  series  of  sermons  on  the  subject  in  my  Presbyterian 
pulpit . 

In  general  I  satisfied  myself  of  the  truths  that  every  Jew  knows 
by  birth  and  cradle  training,  and  that  every  Christian  scholar 
knows  5by  education  :  First,  that  what  we  call  the  Christian  Sai- 
bath  does  not  ezist ;  that  the  very  term  is  a  misnomer,  that  none 
of  the  arguments  applied  by  the  Hebrew  in  favor  of  keeping  the 
seventh  day  of  the  week  as  a  holy  day  could  apply  by  any  twisting 
of  logic  or  sophistry  to  our  Christian  Sunday;  so,  whist !  away 
went  my  old  Puritan  notions  of  the  "  Christian  Sabbath."  Second, 
that  the  "  Christian  Sabbath  "  was  no  more  nor  less  than  a  holiday, 
kept  by  Christians  precisely  on  the  same  grounds  as  Americans 
keep  the  Fourth  of  July — that  is,  in  commemoration  of  a  grand, 
triumphant  event  in  Christian  history  ;  that  for  nearly  three  cen- 
turies of  Christian  history  the  Hebrew  Sabbath  was  still  kept  as 
such  among  Christians,  especially  of  the  east — where  most  of  them 
were — and  that  it  was  only  after  the  days  of  Constantine  that  the 
Christian  Sunday  became  the  legal  holiday  of  the  peoples  who  had 
their  main  centers  at  Rome  and  Constantinople,  and  that  hence- 
forth, of  course,  it  would  have  to  struggle  for  supremacy  among 
all  nations,  composed  in  part  of  Jews,  Pagans  and  Christians. 
TJiird,  that  the  Christian  Sunday,  at  best — and  Sunday,  not  the 


298  TEE  GLOBE. 

Sabbath,  is  its  true  name — was,  and  must  forever  remain,  like  the 
Christian  Scriptures  themselves,  a  creation  of  the  Christian  Church; 
and  as  the  Christian  Church  was  and  must  forever  remain  pri- 
marily a  spiritual  organization  and  power,  having  a  right  and 
claiming  the  right  only  to  rule  and  dominate  the  lives — primarily 
the  spiritual  lives — of  its  members,  it  was  and  would  remain  an 
unreasonable  and  an  unpardonable  tyranny  for  the  Church  to 
impose  its  observances  of  the  Sunday  as  a  Sabbath,  say,  upon  the 
Jews  or  Pagans,  who  did  not,  and  in  the  nature  of  things  could 
not,  share  the  Church's  or  the  Christian's  ideas  and  feelings  regard- 
ing this  new  holiday. 

Americans  might  just  as  reasonably  compel  Englishmen  to 
shout  and  fling  their  hats  in  the  air  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  as 
Christians  compel  Jews  or  Pagans  to  keep  the  Christian  Sunday  as 
a  Sabbath  day. 

Fourth,  I  taught  my  Presbyterian  congregation,  even  then, 
that  as  Calvinists  and  Protestants  had  utterly  abrogated  the  auth- 
ority of  the  church  that  made  the  Christian  Sunday,  and  were 
supremely  bitter  toward  everything  like  an  admission  of  any  tem- 
poral power  on  the  part  of  the  Pope  or  the  Catholic  church,  it 
seemed  to  me  supremely  unbecoming  and  illogical  on  the  part  of 
Protestants  to  force  down  the  throats  of  the  people  of  the  nineteenth 
century  the  authority  of  a  church  that  they  had  not  only  ceased  to 
believe  in,  but  that  they  professed  to  hate  and  despise. 

Filially  I  showed  to  my  Protestant  hearers  that  even  if  the 
authority  of  the  Christian  Catholic  church  could  in  any  sense  be 
held  as  binding  on  others  than  its  own  members,  a  thing  impos- 
sible in  fact ;  still,  even  then,  by  every  light  of  reason  and  history 
we  must  take  that  same  church's  interpretation  of  the  true  mean- 
ing of  its  sacred  holiday ;  in  a  word,  must  accept  the  Catholic 
observance  of  Sunday  as  the  true  observance,  not  now  as  a  legal, 
but  as  a  spiritual  and  moral  obligation,  or  that  we  must  go  back  to 
the  simple  and  divine  word  and  practice  of  the  Savior  himself  and 
those,  as  I  then  endeavored  to  show,  were  as  unlike  our  modern 
Puritan  and  Calvinistic — say  Wanamaker — notions  of  this  day  as 
chalk  is  unlike  cheese. 

After  I  had  finished  that  course  of  sermons,  my  people  said  very 
frankly  that  they  had  never  thought  of  the  thing  that  way  before, 
but  they  believed  every  word  I  had  said. 


OPEN  THE  EXPOSITION  8UNDA  78.  299 

In  a  word  on  this  matter  the  Protestant  and  Puritan,  are  by  every 
law  of  history  and  by  every  dictate  of  reason  out  of  court,  and  for 
them  to  try  to  foist  their  modern,  unchristian,  unchurch-like, 
uncatholic,  crude  and  rude  and  tyrannical  and  infamously  hypocriti- 
cal notions  of  the  Christian  Sunday  not  only  upon  the  whole 
American  people,  but  upon  the  representatives  of  all  nations  of  the 
world  to  be  here  at  our  Columbian  Exhibition,  is  an  impertinence 
that  could  be  committed  only  by  rude  and  barbarous  people,  audit 
is  a  tyranny  that  should  not  be  tolerated  by  an  enlightened  and 
civilized  people  in  this  nineteenth  century  of  Christian  civiliza- 
tion. 

In  a  word,  if  we  are  a  Christian  nation  as  the  "Wauamakers  tell 
us,  and  heaven  save  the  mark,  then  the  Catholic  church  should  be 
recognized  as  the  authoritative  interpreter  of  the  true  meaning  of 
our  Christian  Sunday,  and  of  the  extent  of  its  obligations  upon 
others  than  its  own  members. 

I  am  satisfied  that  the  Catholic  church  would  not  even  presume 
to  dictate  to  the  government  of  the  United  States  or  to  the  city  of 
Chicago  as  to  whether  or  not  it  should  open  the  World's  Fair  on 
Sundays  ;  and  I  am  quite  as  well  satisfied  that  were  its  advice 
asked  it  would  be  given,  as  it  always  has  been  given,  in  aspiritthat 
would  favor  the  needs  and  demands  of  the  laboring  man  and  of  the 
masses  of  the  people.  Those  of  her  eminent  representatives  wh© 
have  expressed  their  views,  I  believe,  have,  to  a  man,  expressed 
them  in-  favor  of  Sunday  opening,  simply  on  the  ground  that  it  is 
the  course  of  common  sense  and  of  common  humanity  to  do  so. 

The  one  argument  that  millions  of  working  people  could  not 
otherwise  visit  the  exhibition  ought  to  be  a  sufiBcient  argument  to 
convince  the  minds  and  hearts  of  any  national  government  under 
the  sun.  But  it  takes  a  heap  of  humane,  and  sacred,  and  logical 
philosophical  argument,  and  a  tremendous  sight  of  heaven's  grace  to 
get  anywhere  near  the  bigoted  head  and  the  pharisaic  heart  of 
Puritanism  or  Calvinism.  I  am  not  saying  that  all  the  bigotry  and 
hypocrisy  are  on  that  side  of  the  fence.  I  am  only  talking  of 
what  would  be  in  all  probability  the  position  of  the  church  on  the 
question  of  opening  the  exhibition  on  Sunday. 

From  an  able  paper,  the  Israelite,  published  in  Chicago,  I 
learn  that  certain  leading  ecclesiastics  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
have  expressed  themselves  in  favor  of  opening  the  exhibition  on 


300  THE  GLOBE. 

Sundays,  and  of  course  the  entire  Hebrew  population  of  this  coun- 
try and  of  the  world  are  in  favor  of  Sunday  openings. 

In  Great  Britain  and  in  this  country  many  exhibitions  such  as 
art  galleries  and  industrial  art  buildings  that  used  to  be  closed 
are  now  regularly  opened  on  Sundays. 

Coming  down  to  the  first  principles  of  common  sense  and  states 
rights  and  local  government,  the  City  of  Chicago  alone  ought  to 
determine  the  question  of  Sunday  opening ;  and  if  it  were  left  to 
Chicago  no  sane  man  doubts  that  the  gates  of  the  great  Fair  would 
be  open  on  Sunday. 

It  is  claimed  that  there  are  more  than  500,000  Catholic  inhab- 
itants in  Chicago  and  these  to  a  man  would  vote  for  Sunday 
opening. 

Personally  I  like  and  approve  and  commend  the  position  taken 
by  our  city  council  in  its  memorial  to  Congress  in  favor  of  Sunday 
opening — namely,  that  provision  be  made  on  the  exhibition 
grounds  for  the  holding  of  regular  religious  services  there  on  Sun- 
days: services  adequate  to  meet  the  wants  of  any  and  all  denomi- 
nations and  people  who  might  feel  it  their  duty  to  observe  their 
devotions  there. 

By  every  reason  and  argument  of  humanity  and  economy  and 
prudence  and  good  sense  the  Globe  Eeview  favors  opening  the 
exhibition  on  Sundays;  and  I  feel  sure  that  justice  and  true  relig- 
ious freedom  as  well  as  the  opinion  of  the  true  church  are  in  favor 
of  Sunday  opening. 

I  am  aware  of  the  danger  that  many  Protestants  fear  in  con- 
nection with  letting  down  the  bars  a  little  on  the  old  Puritan 
notions  of  Sunday.  But  it  is  well  always  to  bear  iu  mind  the 
divine  interpretation  of  what  I  firmly  believe  to  be  a  divine  pro- 
vision for  a  weekly  day  of  rest — one  day  out  of  seven — namely, 
that  the  Sabbath,  or  Sunday — that  is,  first  day  or  seventh  day; 
whichever  day  of  rest  you  keep  as  a  holiday  to  the  Lord — was 
made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sabbath.  That  is,  we  are  not 
here  to  worship  the  day — not  to  sacrifice  our  lives  or  our  comforts 
or  our  opportunities  for  improvement  in  knowledge  in  order  to 
show  that  this  is  a  sacred  day.  On  the  contrary,  the  true,  deep, 
abiding,  glorious  sanctity  of  the  day  is  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a 
needed  and  a  beautiful  provision  for  the  body  and  soul  of  man ; 
and,  though  kept  in  Jewish  history  by  reason  of  their  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Hebrew  cosmogony,  the  heart  of  it,  the  soul  of  it,  and 


GLOBE  NOTES.  301 

the  joy  and  glory  of  it  are  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a  wise,  a  loving, 
a  world-wide  beneficent  provision  made  for  the  weary  body  and 
soul  of  man,  especially  of  the  working  man.  And  in  the  name 
of  justice  and  reason  and  religion  and  truth  and  humanity  I  put 
this  old  Sabbatarian  cant  of  the  Puritan  to  the  rear. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


GLOBE    NOTES. 


Of  my  own  articles  in  the  present  number,  ^' A  Study  of  Faces," 
was  written  about  six  years  ago,  but  never  published  until  now, 
and  "  Theosophy  on  Stilts  "  was  written  nearly  four  years  ago  and 
published  as  a  special  article  in  the  Philadelphia  Times. 

I  have  deemed  it  best  to  let  these  articles  stand  as  they  were 
originally  written,  so  that  Catholic  readers  may  gather  the  spirit 
and  meaning  of  my  work  before  I  became  a  Catholic,  and  so  that 
Protestant  readers — for  The  Globe  has  Protestant  readers  by  the 
thousand — may  see  and  understand  that  in  becoming  a  Catholic  I 
am  not  supposed  to  gag  myself,  or  suppress  such  freedom  of  thought 
as  has  in  it  a  true  reverence  for  God  and  truth  in  this  world.  And 
this  brings  me  naturally  to  say  a  word  on  that  head. 

The  Boston  Herald  which  has  always  been  kind  and  intelligent 
in  its  notices  of  The  Globe,  seems  anxious  to  know  how  Mr. 
Thome's  strong  personality  is  to  fit  into  that  slavish  obedience  to 
something  which  all  Protestants  seem  to  think  must  be  a  part  of  a 
Catholic's  bread  and  thought  and  life. 

I  also  noticed  that  the  writer  of  the  critique  on  the  October 
Globe  in  the  New  World, — a  weekly  paper  published  in  Chicago, 
seemed  anxious  on  the  same  theme.  To  these  writers,  and  to  all 
other  people  laboring  or  suffering  under  this  dreadful  anxiety,  I 
have  to  say  first  of  all  that  The  Globe  is  in  no  sense  an  official 
organ  of  the  Catholic  Church.  My  own  work  in  it  simply  ex- 
presses my  own  individual  opinions,  and  those  opinions  will  be 
expressed  as  a  rule  not  at  all  on  matters  of  orthodox  Catholic  doc- 
trine, discipline  or  Canon  law,  but  where  they  treat  of  Catholic 
themes  at  all  they  will  treat  of  such  themes  as  are  left  free  by  the 
church  for  Catholics  to  hold  opinions  pro  or  con,  as  the  spirit 
gives  them  sight  or  utterance. 


302  THE  OLOBB. 

{Second.)  This  Magazine  is  not,  and  shall  not  be  a  mere  doc- 
trinal, philosophical  or  speculsitive  Magazine.  It  will  first,  last  and 
all  the  time,  be  practical.  It  will,  as  I  have  said,  apply  the  sim- 
plest, practical  teaching  of  Christ  and  His  church,  the  simple  eter- 
nal principles  of  truth  and  morality,  to  the  living,  reeking  hypoc- 
risies, lying  and  corruption  of  the  times;  and  if  it  finds  a  renegade 
Catholic  in  public  life  padding  his  fat  sides  by  pelf  and  false- 
hood it  will  expose  the  saint  with  the  same  clearness  and  power 
that  it  has  exposed,  and  will  continue  to  expose,  Protestant  gentle- 
men of  like  inclinations  and  practices. 

{Third.)  Being  in  no  sense  an  ofl&cial  Catholic  organ,  and  in  no 
sense  a  doctrinal  or  philosophical  or  speculative  review,  it  is  not 
and  will  not  be  while  I  live  under  any  priestly  or  ecclesiastical  con- 
trol .  Thank  God  I  am  a  Catholic  ;  and  if  any  poor,  suspicious 
sycophant  doubts  my  loyalty  to  the  Catholic  church  let  him  pro- 
pose a  test  of  loyalty,  of  silence,  of  speech,  of  action  that  such  as 
he  will  do  and  I  will  not  do  in  obedience  to  rightful  Catholic 
authority. 

{Fourth.)  The  Globe  is  a  Literary  Review,  and  a  business 
enterprise  founded  by  me  three  years  ago.  Into  it  I  have  put  over 
fifty  thousand  dollars  worth  of  the  best  labor  of  my  life,  and  if  any 
man,  priest,  bishop,  layman,  or  woman  wants  to  control  this 
review  ;  wants  to  have  any  influential  say  in  its  control,  he  or  she 
must  first  put  down  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  to  deserve  suchinflu- 
ence:  second,  he  or  she  must  have  brains  and  heart  and  soul  and 
character  and  sincerity  enough  to  win  my  respect  and  confidence 
and  trust,  and  be  ready  to  show  work  equal  to  my  own. 

The  Globe  Review  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  secular  busi- 
ness, hence  not  under  ecclesiastical  control  any  more  than  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Chicago  Herald  or  the  Chicago  Times  is  under  ecclesi- 
astical control.  Still  I  have  tried  and  will  try  to  make  its  secular 
work  so  sacred  that  even  the  angels  may  approve. 

I  hope  that  this  will  satisfy  my  good  friend  of  the  Boston  ZTeraZe/, 
and  that  he  will  still  find  The  Globe  the  spiciest  and  the  most 
thought-provoking  Magazine  that  comes  to  his  office  ;  and  I  expect 
it  to  be  all  the  more  so  now  that  a  larger  number  of  brilliant  writers 
than  heretofore  are  offering  me  their  work — without  expecting  such 
pay  as  the  mammonite  editors  pay  to  their  grovelling  slaves. 

Since  I  had  the  privilege  of  being  admitted  to  the  Church  last 
June,  I  have  met  personally  and  conversed  with  something  over 


GLOBE  NOTES.  303 

one  hundred  Catholic  Priests  of  all  grades  and  orders  from  Arch- 
bishops to  very  young  and  humble  pastors  of  distant  country  par- 
ishes ;  and  I  have  received  letters  from  between  three  and  four 
hundred  more  ;  and  to  the  honor  and  credit  of  the  good  sense  of 
these  cultured  gentlemen  I  am  bound  to  say  that  in  no  single 
instance  has  one  of  them  voluntarily  attempted  to  advise  me  or 
direct  me  as  to  what  the  future  character  of  the  Globe  should  be  ; 
further  that  in  all  cases  where  I  have  distinctly  asked  or  sought 
an  expression  of  thought  or  feeling  on  this  point  from  Catholics, 
they  have  without  exception,  priests  and  laymen,  asked  me  not  to 
make  The  Globe  a  distinctively  Catholic  Magazine,  but  to  keep  it 
on  the  high,  pure  and  independent"  ground  of  literary  and  political 
criticism  that  has  marked  it  heretofore  and  won  its  fame. 

Protestants  will  naturally  say  that  this  is  very  smart  on  their 
part,  because  they  knew  in  advance  that  such  a  magazine  will  be 
read  by  Protestants  as  well  as  Catholics,  and  so  be  of  more  help  to 
the  Catholic  cause.  For  every  body  knows  that  Protestants,  as  a 
rule,  do  not  read  distinctively  Catholic  reviews,  magazines  or 
papers.  Very  true  ;  and  I  am  glad  to  assure  Protestant  readers  of 
The  Globe  that  Catholic  priests  and  laymen  are  quite  as  wide  awake 
as  themselves  on  all  such  matters-  And  as  for  the  thoroughness 
of  the  training  of  priests  for  their  own  profession,  everybody  that 
knows  anything,  knows  that,  as  a  rule,  priests  are  far  more 
thoroughly  trained  in  theology  than  are  the  average  of  Protestant 
preachers. 

In  a  word  the  Catholic  priesthood  has  made  no  attempt  to 
influence  my  freedom  in  the  future  management  of  The  Globe,  and 
the  entire  weight  of  advice  as  sought  by  me,  is  to  keep  right  on, 
only  with  a  more  consecrated  power,  if  that  be  possible,  in  the 
lines  already  defined  and  defended. 

I  was  not  only  born  free,  and  have  been  free  all  my  life,  under 
a  conscious  obedience  to  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  but  with  a  great 
price,  how  great,  no  one  but  God  can  know — have  I  prayed  for  and 
purchased  the  freedom  of  expression  used  in  these  pages,  and  any 
mere  underling,  who  has  never  had  manhood  or  soul  enough  to  be 
free  or  to  try  to  be  free,  that  should  attempt  to  enslave  me  at  this 
time  of  life,  would  soon  find  himself  in  universal  contempt,  and 
his  own  cringing  spirit  more  tightly  squeezed  by  its  deserved 
chains. 


304  TEE  OLOBE. 

And  plainly  this  is  the  place  to  say  that  this  wretched  bug- 
aboo of  protestantism  touching  the  slavery  of  the  Catholic  church 
is  as  false  as  it  would  be  unjustifiable  if  it  really  existed.  And  it 
is  my  firm  belief,  that  the  best  half,  that  is,  the  spiritually  minded 
half  of  the  Episcopal  and  of  the  Unitarian  communions  in  the 
United  States  would  come  over  to  Kome,  body  and  soul,  inside  of 
twenty  years,  were  it  not  for  this  dread  of  the  terrible  ghost  of 
Catholic  slavery — which,  like  most  other  ghosts,  is  a  figment,  a 
phantasm,  an  hallucination,  an  ugly,  fevered,  miasmatic,  mere 
shadow  of  hereditary  calvinistic  dyspepsia. 

One  of  the  most  intelligent  physicians  of  Philadelphia,  a  pro- 
fessor in  one  of  the  city's  most  famous  medical  colleges,  and  him- 
self an  Episcopalian,  said  to  me  in  conversation  just  before  I  left 
Philadelphia,  last  October,  "  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Thome,  that  if  the 
Catholic  Church  in  this  country  pursues  the  liberal  and  patriotic 
course  it  now  seems  to  be  taking,  it  won't  be  long  before  the 
Catholic  Church  will  sweep  the  whole  board  and  take  us  all  in." 

Now,  that  is  precisely  what,  by  its  history,  its  enlightenment, 
its  supernatural  gifts  and  powers,  its  beautiful  and  restful  minis- 
tries to  human  souls  the  Catholic  Church  has  a  right  to  do,  expects 
to  do,  and,  by  the  grace  of  the  Eternal,  will  do,  at  no  distant  day; 
but  at  least  one  bloody  chasm  will  at  first  have  to  be  crossed, 
before  Protestant  people  will  see  the  utter  inadequacy  of  their 
own  churches,  their  school  systems,  their  standards  of  faith,  and 
the  prevailing  selfishness  and  sinfulness  of  their  own  average  lives. 

This  is  no  new  doctrine  in  The  Globe,  and  every  man  who  has 
read  it  from  the  first  knows  that  I  am  preaching  my  old  truths, 
only  more  plainly  in  favor  of  the  church  whose  blessing  and  peace 
I  now  enjoy. 

So  much  for  my  own  position  and  the  future  of  The  Globe, 
and  for  my  own  work  in  this  particular  number. 

Already,  since  my  removal  to  Chicago  a  greater  number  of 
satisfactory  articles  have  come  to  me,  many  of  which  are  in  the 
present  issue. 

Of  these  I  need  hardly  call  attention  to  the  graceful,  the  wise 
and  appreciative  paper  on  Isabella,  by  Miss  Onahan.  The  schol- 
arly and  most  charitable  article  on  Theosophy,  by  Mr.  Snell,  will 
speak  for  itself.  Miss  Starr's  beautiful  tribute  to  Thomas  William 
Parsons,  an  almost  forgotten  poet,  will  find  many  delighted  read- 
ers.    Mr.  Walter  Blackburn  Ilarte,  who  contributes  the  article  on 


GLOBE  NOTES.  306 

the  World  Problem  and  Literature,  is  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
Neto  England  Magazine,  and  by  all  distance  the  ablest  literary 
man  in  the  New  England  states;  and  while  I  do  not  accept  his 
apparent  definition  of  the  basis  of  human  justice,  that  is,  as  con- 
tained in  the  American  Declaration  of  Independence,  in  fact,  hold 
that  document  as  mostly  rebellion,  froth  and  moonshine,  and  while 
I  see  more  good  in  our  charitable  institutions  than  he  does,  Mr, 
Harte^s  article  will  be  read  with  delight  as  a  manly  protest  against 
the  corrupt,  commercial,  political  and  social  life  of  the  times,  and 
against  its  soulless,  namby-pamby  literature — so-called. 

The  article,  Dreams  of  Evolution,  by  Mrs.  Adams,  is  much  in 
the  line  of  that  world-famous  book  upon  the  Blessed  Virgin,  by 
Mary  of  Agreda,  and  is  precisely  in  the  line — only  in  a  narrower 
circle —  of  my  own  Cosmotheism,  which  some  persons  have  mis- 
taken for  Pantheism. 

I  believe  the  other  articles  are  mine,  and  the  least  said  about 
them  by  me  the  better.  Other  people  say  enough,  for  most  of 
which  I  am  truly  thankful,  alike  to  my  critics  and  to  Almighty 
God. 

I  had  intended  to  write  an  article  for  this  issue  on  the  Negro 
Problem  ;  also  a  review  of  a  somewhat  neglected  Western  poet,  B. 
I.  Durward,  whose  volumes  have  been  kindly  sent  to  me.  I  had 
also  intended  to  make  special  mention,  alike  of  the  literary  merits 
and  the  amount  of  valuable  information  contained  in  a  new  book 
in  paper  covers,  issued  by  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Company, 
with  maps  and  descriptions  of  the  leading  cities  of  the  Union,  and 
the  way  to  reach  them  from  the  Atlantic  seaboard  to  this  marvel- 
ous city  of  Chicago,  destined  so  soon  to  be  the  leading  city  of  the 
world,  or — the  sink  hole — and  putrid  grave  of  the  offensive 
wrecks  and  corpses  of  all  the  nations  of  the  world.  I  am  for  the 
first,  my  friends;  but  no  Chicago  boomer  will  fool  me  into  believing 
that  lies  and  gush,  and  vulgarity,  and  dishonesty  and  moral  and 
physical  crime  are  or  can  become,  in  this  divine  universe,  the 
corner  stones  or  the  main  springs  of  any  prosperous  city  out  of  the 
great  quarreling  and  snarling  pandemonium  city  of  perdition. 

Having  touched  the  political  problem  in  my  article  on  **Tlie 
Stupidest  Man,"  I  shall  not  refer  to  it  here. 

The  encouragement  given  to  The  Globe  since  its  removal  to 
Chicago  has  been  most  flattering.     Many   hundreds  of  new  sub- 


306  THE  GLOBE. 

scriptions  have  been  received  up  to  this  writing,  December  2l8t, 
and  all  people  know  that  the  end  of  the  year  is  not  the  most  pros- 
perous in  this  line.  At  first,  and  from  those  who  had  protested 
most,  and  promised  most,  there  were  disappointments  for  me,  but 
only  that  larger  and  a  much  higher  grade  of  encouragement  might 
take  the  place  of  retreating  foes.  I  bear  them  no  ill  will,  but  I 
will  allow  no  man,  priest  or  other,  to  play  false  with  me  a  second 
time,  nor  will  I  pander  to  such  where  their  conduct  is  deserving  of 
blame.  Though  very  disinclined  to  any  and  all  sorts  of  contests, 
the  man  does  not  live  who  is  able  to  deceive  me  or  for  whom  I  have 
the  slightest  feeling  of  fear. 

If  The  Globe  lives,  and  it  is  very  lively  at  present,  it  will  live 
because  God  and  all  good  men  and  women  want  it  to  live.  I  am 
simply  a  willing  slave  in  their  hands  ;  but  no  Judases  need  attempt 
dominion.  At  present  The  Globe  shows  a  million-fold  more  signs 
of  life  and  prosperity  than  ever  before.  In  a  word,  though  a  little 
slow,  by  Chicago  time,  it  is  up  with  the  lark,  apace  with  the  sun, 
and  has  many  new  stars  in  its  present  and  future  skies. 

In  the  next  number  of  The  Globe  I  hope  to  be  able  to  furnish 
its  readers  with  a  scholarly  and  brilliant  article  on  The  Celt  in 
Modern  History,  by  Rev.  Thos.  F.  Oashman,  one  of  the  most 
widely  known  and  popular  of  the  pioneer  priests  of  Chicago  ;  a 
masterpiece  by  Mr.  Merwin-Marie  Snell,  on  the  Science  of  Com- 
parative Religion ;  an  article  by  Mr.  "Walter  Blackburn  Harte, 
On  Common  Life  in  Poetry;  an  article  by  Mr.  William  Ellison  of 
Ontario,  On  Democracy  in  the  Catholic  Church  in  Canada  ;  an 
article  by  Miss  Swan,  On  Comparative  French  and  German  Litera- 
ture, an  article  by  Professor  Darkow,  lately  from  Vienna,  On 
Madam  Adam's  Estimates  of  the  Germans  ;  and  articles  by  myself 
upon  Bismarck,  Renan,  Ruskin,  The  Negro  Problem,  Public 
Schools  Versus  Parochial  Schools,  Our  Tariff  Tinkers,  The  Popu- 
larizing and  Anglicising  of  Catholic  Worship;  and  such  notes  upon 
Chicago,  The  Columbian  Exposition  and  the  New  Victors  of 
Democracy  as  may  evolve  themselves  between  now  and  then. 

While  this  number  of  The  Globe  was  going  through  the  press, 
I  received  a  copy  of  Professor  Maurice  Francis  Egan's  new  book — 
Songs  and  Sonnets,  just  published  by  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 
Chicago.  In  the  next  number  of  The  Globe  I  will  give  it  an 
elaborate  review  explaining  the  beautiful  character  and  culture  of 
this  man's  genius.     Here  I  have  only  time  to  say  that  the  book 


GLOBE  NOTES.  807 

is  the  purest,  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  poetic  that  has  ever 
come  to  me  from  any  modern  American  writer,  and  that  within 
one  twelve  months  it  ought  to  be  in  the  library  of  every  person  and 
family  of  intelligence  in  the  land. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  something  of  The  Globe's  work  among 
our  Periodicals. 

Four  years  ago  Kobert  IngersoU  and  Robert  Ingersollism  prac- 
tically dominated  the  pages  of  the  North  Americaii  Review.  To- 
day an  earnest  Churchman  uses  its  pages  to  explain  the  infallibil- 
ity of  the  Pope — and  from  this  time  on  the  Catholic  church  will 
be  treated  as  fairly  in  its  pages  as  it  will  be  in  the  pages  of  The 
Globe.     The  Globe  has  made  it  pay  to  publish  the  truth. 

Four  years  ago  the  leading  monthlies  were  given  over  mainly  to 
such  work  as  that  done  by  Messrs.  Howells,  James  &  Co.,  mere 
soulless  trash  without  art  or  power  ;  hack  work,  with  a  dilettantish 
trend  that  sickly  critics  took  for  real  art  and  mental  culture.  The 
Globe  has  made  that  farce  so  plain  that  now  even  Mr.  Howells 
goes  from  pillar  to  post  and  lots  of  daws  are  pecking  at  him. 

From  its  first  announcement  to  the  last, The  Globe  has  made  no 
secret  of  its  determined  and  eternal  war  against  Ingersollism  on 
the  one  hand  and  mere  dilettante  literary  simpering  on  the  other, 
and  The  Globe  has  been  read,  you  understand,  by  the  people  who 
make  and  who  criticise  literature.  In  their  hearts,  many  of  them 
curse  it — but  they  are  beginning  to  follow  its  leading  because  now 
it  pays. 

To-day  not  only  is  Ingersollism  relegated  to  the  sphere  of  cheap 
pamphleteerism  and  to  those  audiences  to  be  found  in  all  cities 
whose  opinions  are  as  coarse  and  uncultured  as  their  countenances 
and  their  lives.  And  not  only  are  the  North  American  Revieio  and 
the  Forum  trying  to  get  honest  and  truly  religious  men — even 
Catholics — to  write  for  their  pages,  but  mere  picture  periodicals 
like  Harper's,  The  Century  and  Scribner's,  not  to  mention  the  Cos- 
mopolitan  and  Lippmcott's,  are  announcing  series  of  articles  on 
moral  and  religious  problems.  The  Globe  may  never  get  credit 
for  this  change  among  the  stiff-necked  fraternities  who  run  these 
magazines;  but  the  editor  of  The  Globe  and  the  angels  of  heaven 
that  take  note  of  such  trifles  as  the  changing  of  the  literary  and 
intellectual  bent  of  national  thought  know  very  well  that  The 
Olobe  has  wrought  and  forced  the  change.  And  to  the  curious 
and  utterly  unbelieving,  as  well  as  to  the  loving  and  nobly  believ- 


308  THE  GLOBE. 

ing,  let  me  say  that  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others,  the  change  has 
been  wrought  only  through  sufferings  that  the  successful  mam- 
monite  editor  of  the  day  is  alike  incapable  of  understanding  or  imi- 
tating. 

In  founding  The  Globe,  I  resolved  that  the  insincere  literary 
trash  of  the  period  should  stand  for  what  it  was,  or,  in  utter  shame, 
go  down  to  the  hell  it  deserves.  It  seems  to  be  going  down  and 
something  better  seems  to  be  coming  in  its  place. 

I  aim  to  publish  The  Globe  from  the  15th  to  the  20th  of  the 
first  month  of  each  Quarter.  A  serious  explosion  in  the  establish- 
ment of  its  printers  has  delayed  this  issue  about  two  weeks. 

Many  good  Catholic  friends  of  The  Globe  have  urged  me  to  ask 
the  priests  in. Chicago  and  throughout  the  country  to  commend  it 
publicly  to  their  congregations;  but  while  I  should  feel  extremely 
grateful  to  them  if  they  were  to  do  so  voluntarily,  and  should 
greatly  appreciate  and  esteem  the  compliment,  I  cannot  and  musfr 
not  ask  favors  of  this  kind. 

Since  I  came  to  Chicago,  last  October,  I  have  received  and 
accepted  an  invitation  to  the  Professorship  of  Literary  Criticism  in 
St.  Viateur's  College,  Kankakee,  this  State,  and  expect  to  begin 
my  labors  there  the  first  week  in  February,  Of  course  I  think  it 
one  of  the  best  colleges  in  the  land.  The  office  and  address  of  The 
Globe,  however,  remain  the  same  as  heretofore  and  all  letters  to 
me  and  to  The  Globe  should  be  addressed 

W.  H.  Thorite, 
716  Title  and  Trust  Building,  Chicago,  111. 


THE  OLD  YEAR  AND  THE  NEW. 

Er'e  the  noon-tide  comes  and  the  shadows  fall 

From  the  evening  skies,  and  the  evening  star 
Leads  forth  the  stars  of  night,  and  over  all 

The  earth  and  heaven,  brooding,  near,  and  far, 
Flows  the  silence  of  death  around  thy  brow, 

O  year  of  mortal  love  !  fare  thee  well ; 
Would  that  the  heart  within  us,  even  now, 

Could  feel  and  understand,  that  tongue  could  tell 
The  countless  wings  of  love  have  daily  flown 

To  us  across  God's  open  skies  ;  that  we, 
Long  before  the  new  year  be  fully  grown, 

May  feel  the  pulsings  of  love's  mighty  sea  ; 
And,  conquering  every  hato  and  every  foe. 

May  live  in  love  and  Thee  eternally. 
Dec.  31,  1892.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


THE    GLOBE. 

NO.  XII. 


APEIL  TO  JULY,  1893. 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS. 


The  tempest  in  a  teapot  over  this  and  kindred  questions,  which 
recently  existed,  or  was  said  to  have  existed,  between  certain 
members  of  the  Catholic  Hierarchy,  and  which  was  fanned  and 
shaken  into  undue  and  unwise  publicity  by  hot-headed,  injudicious 
and  uncharitable  partisans  and  by  unprincipled  newspaper 
reporters,  has  happily  subsided.  While  it  existed,  the  editor  of  the 
Globe  resolved  not  to  take  either  side  and  not  to  be  mixed  up 
with  the  witches'  dance  one  way  or  the  other.  I  resolved  upon  this 
course  for  two  reasons;  first,  because  I  had  literally  no  sympathy 
with  either  side  in  the  controversy,  and  but  little  respect  for  the 
zealots  engaged  in  it ;  second,  because  the  Globe  is  not,  never  has 
been,  and  while  I  live  never  shall  be  marshaled  on  one  side  of 
the  Church  against  another  side  on  any  question,  but  shall  always 
be  for  the  whole  Church  and  the  whole  truth  on  all  questions, 
and  the  advocate  of  limitless,  aggressive,  humble,  patient,  all- 
conquering  charity  toward  all  parties,  and  all  sides  of  the  Church 
in  any  and  every  controversy  that  may  arise. 

In  a  word.  Archbishop  Corrigan  and  his  views  and  feelings 
are  just  as  dear  to  me  as  Archbishop  Ireland  and  his  views  and 
feelings.  I  know  in  advance,  as  I  know  the  birth,  the  physiog- 
nomy, and  the  training  of  these  and  of  other  prominent  Catholics, 
that  on  many  matters  they  must  and  will  differ  in  opinion  and 
preference,  and  I  know  also  ihat  in  their  cases,  as  in  others,  human 
nature  sometimes  gets  the  better  of  divine  grace,  and  that  a  touch 


810  THE  GLOBE. 

of  ambition  becomes  a  taint  when  it  settles  upon  the  face  and 
conduct  of  a  consecrated  and  gifted  soul.  Had  I  taken  sides  in 
the  aforesaid  controversy  at  all,  I  would  have  quoted  to  those 
gentlemen,  in  tones  of  irresistible  sweetness,  the  unfortunate  Car- 
dinal Woolsey's  last  words  to  his  secretary  : 

' '  Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition  ; 

By  this  sin  fell  the  angels  ;  how  can  man  then. 

The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  't  ? 

Love  thyself  last;  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee. 

Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty. 

Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace 

To  silence  envious  tongues.     Be  just  and  fear  not  ; 

Let  all  the  ends  thou  aimst  at  be  thy  country's, 

Thy  God's,  and  Truth's  ;  then  if  thou  fallest,  O  Cromwell, 

Thou  fallest  a  blessed  martyr."  Etc. 
And  with  this  suggestion,  as  exalted  in  its  genius  as  it  is  world- 
wide in  its  reputation  and  application,  I  will  leave  that  poor, 
undignified  and  unfortunate  tempest  in  a  tea-pot  and  try  to  point 
out  or  hint  at  the  true  ways  of  giving  children  the  right  sort  of 
mental  food  for  their  breakfast,  dinner  and  supper. 

With  me  it  is  not  a   question  of  the  Faribault   system,  or  of 
Cahenslyism,  or  any  other  extant  system  or  ism  whatever. 
"  These  little  systems  have  their  day  ; 
They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be." 
With  me    it   is    a  question  how   best  to   draw   out    or  educate 
the  latent  soul-qualities  or  spiritual  germ-seeds  of  the  ever  million- 
fold  increasing  youth  of  all  modern  nations  ;   how  best  to  store  the 
youthful   mind   with   the   most  needful,  the   most  useful  and  the 
most  inspiring,  beautifying  and   joy-giving  facts  of  the  natural 
and  supernatural  universe,  hence  to  make  them  the    happiest, 
because   the   most  mutually  helpful  members  of  the  family,  the 
social,  the   religious,  the  national,  the  international,  the  cosmic 
and   universal  circles  of  life  in   which  we  all  inevitably  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being.    A  plague  upon   that  teacher  who  has 
any  smaller  ax  to  grind. 

On  this  broad  and  generous  question  of  education  the  Globe, 
from  the  first,  has  given  no  uncertain  sound,  and  on  this  question 
as  on  many  others,  the  editor  of  the  Globe  has  no  changes  to 
make  because  he  has  become  a  member  of  the  Catholic  Church. 

On  the  specific  question  as  to  what  extent  our  American  common 
school  system  of  education  accomplishes  the  best  possible  results 
in  the  directions  named,  the  Globe  and  its  editor  have  from  the 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS.  811 

first  declared  themselves  out  of  sympathy  with  our  common  school 
system  ;  without  respect  for  it,  with  undisguised  contempt  for  it, 
and  with  a  sure  and  certain  conviction,  that  by  its  own,  eventaal 
self-evident  incapacity,  incompleteness  and  self-distructiveness, 
the  thing  is  as  sure  of  annihilation  as  is  the  contemptible  atheism 
of  Bob  liigersoll,  and  for  precisely  the  same  reason,  viz.,  that  it  is 
not  in  harmony  with  the  essential,  fundamental  and  eternal  laws 
and  forces  of  universal  nature,  or  of  human  nature;  thit  one  half 
its  so-called  facts  are  lies  and  that  the  other  half  are  taught  in 
such  a  spirit  as  to  make  hardened,  mechanic,  unfilial,  and 
ungodly  machines  out  of  nineteenth  century  human  beings;  and 
that  these  machines,  so  made,  are  chiefly  useful  in  the  now  well- 
nigh  universal  melee  of  sharp  rascality  and  damnable  infidelity 
in  all  lines,  and  hence  in  perpetual  and  mutual  self-destruction. 

I  have  been  more  than  fifty  years  learning  this  lesson,  and  I 
have  had  it  driven  into  my  brain  by  crowns  of  thorns  compared 
with  which  the  famous  crown  put  in  mockery  upon  the  Savior's 
head  might  almost  seem  like  a  gentle  luxury. 

After  the  issue  of  the  first  or  second  number  of  the  Globe  the 
Eev.  Preston  Barr,  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  then  of  Lee,  Mass.,  now 
of  Battle  Creek,  Mich.,  wrote  to  ask  me  ifl  would  admit  to  the  pages 
of  this  Review  an  article  inimical  to  our  so-called  public  school 
system  of  education,  and  commendatory  of  the  supposed  Catholic 
opposition  to  the  same.  I  replied  immediately  that  for  twenty 
years  I  had  been  wanting  to  write  such  an  article,  that  I  could  not 
at  once  say  all  that  was  to  be  said  in  the  Globe  on  that  and  many 
kindred  questions,  and  urged  him  to  go  ahead  and  preach  his 
anti-public  school  gospel  with  all  the  zeal  and  power  at  his  com- 
mand. 

The  article  :  "  A  Modern  Moloch  And  Its  Destroyer,"  in  the 
Globe  No.  Ill,  published  just  three  years  ago,  was  the  result 
of  this  correspondence,  and  it  at  once  became  the  unrecognized 
text  of  a  series  of  articles  that  have  since  been  published  on  the 
subject  by  scores  of  able  men  and  women  in  many  Catholic  and 
Protestant  newspapers  and  magazines. 

Mr.  Barr's  main  points  of  opposition  to  public  schools  were  : 
first,  that  their  low  grade  promiscuity  rendered  them  unsafe 
places  for  children  of  whom  we  expect  to  make  ladies  and  gentle- 
men and  moral  beings  ;  second,  that  the  absence  of  any  teaching 
of  religion  in  the  public  schools  rendered  them  unsafe  places  for 


812  THE  GLOBE. 

children  in  whom  there  was  a  moral  and  spiritual  potentiality 
or  power. 

The  language  of  this  retrospect  is  mine,  of  course;  in  truth 
Mr.  Barr  dwelt  most  strenuously  upon  the  fact  that  the  public 
had  made  a  Moloch  or  a  false  god  of  our  public  school  system, 
that  the  public  were  ready  to  fly  into  a  rage  at  any  man  who 
attacked  this  idol  ;  still  an  idol  it  was,  that  deserved  to  be  attacked 
and  would  eventually  be  destroyed  by  Roman  Catholic  influence, 
consciously  and  unconsciously  exerted  with  a  view  to  its  destruc- 
tion. 

I  wish  all  my  readers  to  understand  that  this  was  three  years 
ago,  in  a  Protestant  magazine  ;  that  the  article  was  written  by  a 
Protestant  clergyman  of  great  clearness  of  head,  of  fine  scholar- 
ship, of  undoubted  sincerity  and  of  unusual  ability  as  a  thinker 
and  writer  ;  and  that  it  was  admitted  and  welcomed  to  the  pages 
of  the  Globe  by  me  when  I  hardly  dreamed  of  ever  being  able  to 
enter  the  Catholic  Church.  I  make  this  reference  to  refute  the 
foul  slanders  of  those  critics  of  the  Globe  who  say  I  am  now  try- 
ing to  please  the  Catholics  and  to  pander  to  their  prejudices. 
God  forbid  that  I  ever  should  write  to  please  any  human  being, 
and  God  pity  the  rascals  who  so  judge  me. 

In  truth  my  views  are  unchanged  on  any  public  question  ;  and 
here  again  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  remind  my  readers  that  the 
Globe  is  not  a  Catholic  organ.  And  while  there  is  great  variety 
of  opinion  among  Catholics  regarding  the  utility  of  our  public 
83hools  and  how  to  deal  with  their  existence  and  support  as  related 
to  ideal  Catholic  teaching  and  Catholic  rights,there  is,a8  faraslcau 
judge,  an  almost  universal  disinclination  to  attack  the  public 
school  system  as  such  ;  hence  what  I  have  to  say  on  this  point  is 
simply  my  own  word  ;  my  own  opinion.  No  other  person  is 
responsible  for  it ;  no  church  must  be  blamed  for  it. 

Plainly  then,  and  as  a  broad  and  provoking  statement  for  all 
sides;  meant  to  please  nobody,  but  to  serve  as  text  for  further 
remarks,  if  I  had  the  power  I  would  break  up  the  whole  public 
school  system  of  the  United  States  to-morrow,  close  the  doors  of  all 
the  public  schools  for  one  month  at  least,  devote  the  public  school 
funds  for  one  year  to  the  benefit  and  use  of  foreign  paupers,  so- 
called,  and  to  the  encouragement  of  a  perfect  stampede  of  Euro- 
pean and  Asiatic  emigration  to  these  shores. 

Meanwhile  I  would  have  established  a  competent  board  of 
examination  for  real  teachers  ;  for  men  and  women  whose  lives 


PUBLIC  AND   PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS.  818 

were  devoted  to  the  all-round  work  of  teaching — in  the  sense 
hinted  at — and  I  would  encourage  these — Catholic  or  Protestant, 
Jesuit,  Dominican,  or  what  not — regardless  of  sect ;  and  to  these 
I  would  rent  the  public  school  buildings — until  the  time  came  to 
sell  them  all — and  for  the  time  being  put  this  business  of  teaching 
where  it  belongs,  namely,  on  the  shoulders  of  individual  responsi- 
bility, and  in  the  hands  of  free  and  independent  citizens,  as 
guided  and  influenced  by  their  spiritual  advisers  in  all  phases  of 
religious  life. 

In  a  word,  I  look  upon  the  first  principle  of  public  school  edu- 
cation, and  the  second  principle  of  compulsory  public  school  edu- 
cation ;  and  the  third  principle  of  a  school  tax  for  the  support  of 
this  public  school  education,  as  upon  the  principles  of  compulsory 
vaccination,as  so  many  unwarrantable  tyrannies  of  usurpation  upon 
the  natural  rights  and  liberties  of  the  individual  citizen  ;  tyrannies 
and  usurpations  that  could  and  would  be  evolved  only  by  the  rule 
of  an  ignorant,  unprincipled  majority  of  unthinking  boobies  ;  and 
that  would  and  could  be  tolerated  only  in  a  community  fed  on  lies, 
stuffed  with  platitudes  and  absurdities,  ruled  by  mere  mammonite, 
selfish,  groundling  politicians,  and  hence  deserving  the  damnation 
of  just  such  a  subtle  perdition  as  our  modern  social  system  has 
become  ;  for  I  do  not  wish  to  disguise  the  fact  that  I  have  nothing 
but  pity  and  contempt  for  ninety  per  cent  of  the  so-called  social 
and  other  culture  of  these  times,  as  they  have  been  developed  by 
the  public  school  and  the  public  newspaper. 

Having  broken  up  the  public  school  system  and  put  the  work 
of  the  education  of  the  youth  of  this  nation  in  the  hands  of  private 
and  responsible  individual  teachers,  regardless  of  sect ;  all  such 
education  to  be  voluntarily  paid  for  by  the  individual  parents  or 
guardians  of  the  scholars,  or  by  the  scholars  themselves  ;  I  would 
gradually  dispose  of  all  public  school  property  or  properties  to  the 
same  parties  and  their  backers ;  and  still  further  devote  the  sums 
of  money  so  named  to  the  "  paupers "  of  Europe,  to  encourage 
their  emigration  to  this  mere  rude  and  uncivilized  land ;  and  by  a 
process  of  absolute  free  trade  in  all  manufacture  and  commerce, as 
well  as  in  education,  I  would  let  this  last  factor — the  only  one  we 
are  interested  in  at  present — gradually  drift  into  the  competent 
hands  that  could  and  would  manage  it ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
these  hands,  guided  by  far  other  impulses  than  that  of  simply  earn- 
ing a  living  and  making  school  teaching  the  stepping-stone  to  pol- 


814  THE  GLOBE. 

itics  and  mammonism,  would  very  soon  introduce  the  true  religi- 
ous element,  as  well  as  all  other  elements  worth  introducing,  out  of 
the  pyramids  of  mere  muck,  now  called  educational  branches,  iu 
our  public  schools. 

But  that  would  be  a  revolution  for  which  we  are,  as  yet,  unpre- 
pared, hence  we  must  look  at  the  existing  systems  as  they  stand. 

My  first  quarrel  with  our  public  schools  and  with  the  public 
school  system  as  they  stand  is  that  they  undertake  to  teach  entirely 
too  much. 

The  idea  of  the  public  school  was  to  give  every  boy  and  girl  an 
intelligent  start  in  life  ;  in  truth,  it  is  based  upon  that  earlier  lie 
that  all  men,  that  is,  all  children,  are  born  free  and  equal,  and  that 
we  must  give  each  an  equal  start.  Nothing  could  be  more 
untruthful  and  absurd  than  this  from  the  start.  Children  are  not 
born  equal  and  you  cannot  give  them  an  equal  start  by  any 
amount,  kind  or  variety  of  education  to  be  invented  by  all  the 
ingenuity  of  the  human  race  ;  and  the  sooner  we  get  that  funda- 
mental lie  out  of  our  heads  the  sooner  may  we  hope  for  guidance 
on  the  higher  ranges  of  the  ''Higher  Education"  of  human 
beings. 

But  admitting  for  the  moment  that  any  so-called  government 
has  a  right  to  tax  people  to  build  schools,  and  to  determine  a  sys- 
tem of  general  education  and  to  tax  people  to  keep  up  that  system 
— all  of  which  I  deny — still  admitting  the  right,  my  position 
would  be  that  the  education  so  provided  should  be  of  the  simplest, 
say  the  old  trinity  of  reading,  writing  and  arithmetic,  and  that 
all  else  should  be  left  to  the  individual  tastes  and  capacities,  men- 
tal, financial,  etc.,  of  the  pupil  and  his  or  her  parents,  guardians 
and  friends. 

I  have  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  public  school  system  as 
developed  in  this  country  was  so  developed  with  the  idea  of  giving 
the  children  of  the  poor  as  good  an  education  at  public  expense  as 
the  children  of  the  rich  can  secure  at  private  expense.  The  im- 
pulse is  good.  But  the  means  employed  all  come  of  our  folly 
regarding  human  equality  and  our  unbelief  in  God  Almighty.  It 
is  only  necessary  to  say  that  you  simply  cannot  provide  for  all 
children  the  complete  and  professional  education  which  wealth 
and  talent  and  exceptional  ability  have  always  secured  for  them- 
selves ;  and  the  remarkable  feature  of  the  modern  arguments 
against  providing  for  the  higher  and  professional  branches  of  study 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS.  815 

in  our  public  schools  is  that  the  system  itself  is  forcing  the  poor — 
who  cannot  avail  themselves  of  the  so-called  advantages — to  pay 
for  the  education  of  the  children  of  the  rich  who  can  so  avail 
themselves.  And  while  I  do  not  lay  as  much  stress  upon  this  argu- 
ment as  some  people  do,  I  see  its  force,  but  mention  it  only  as  one 
of  the  many  weaknesses  and  blunders  of  a  system  which  1  hold  to 
be  a  blunder  from  its  incipieucy  to  its  destined  grave. 

I  do  not  believe  in  the  much  pitied,  inglorious  Miltons.  I  do 
not  believe  that  poverty  has  ever  in  all  ages  of  the  world  kept  a 
gifted  soul  from  rising  to  its  actual  height  and  securing  what  edu- 
cation was  best  for  it.  I  look  upon  the  entire  modern  Henry 
George  fiasco  of  warfare  against  poverty  as  only  a  poor,  lame 
excuse  for  an  unwillingness  on  the  part  of  the  advocates  them- 
selves to  take  their  own  true  positions  in  the  social  scale,  and  as  a 
blunder  alike  of  conscience,  the  intellect  and  the  soul.  And  were 
I  to  start  a  proposition  it  would  be  that  there  are  or  that  there 
need  be  in  this  land  no  people  so  poor  but  they  can  at  their  own 
expense  and  by  their  own  efforts  or  the  efforts  of  their  friends  or 
spiritual  advisers,  give  their  children  a  fair  and  simple  start  in  the 
world. 

Looking  at  the  matter  from  this  standpoint  alone,  I  would 
exclude  from  public  school  teaching  and  public  school  expense 
incident  thereto  everything  except  the  primary  branches  referred 
to.  Remember,  I  do  not  admit  that  this  even  should  be  done  by 
the  public,  or  by  the  national  government  or  by  any  government 
tax — much  less  by  any  compulsory  system  of  forcing  the  children 
of  any  parents  to  attend  such  schools. 

Hence,  of  course,  I  am  opposed  to  introducing  into  public 
schools  what  are  called  fads  in  our  times.  But  I  would  not  only 
exclude  German  and  French,  and  Greek  and  Latin,  and  music  and 
drawing  from  our  public  schools,  I  would  with  the  most  stinging 
whip  of  small  cords  to  be  found  drive  out  astronomy,  geology, 
gymnastics  and  the  entire  brood  of  modern  isms  and  ologies,  based 
on  so-called  scientific  discoveries,  etc.,  not,  however,  through  any 
prejudice  against  true  science  or  any  physical  truth;  but  because  I 
have  convinced  myself  that  ninety  per  cent,  of  the  modern  isms 
and  ologies  as  now  taught  in  our  schools,  and  in  our  colleges  for 
that  matter,  are  actual  lies,  not  in  accordance  with  the  natural  and 
supernatural  order  of  this  universe. 

My  opposition  to  our  so-called  public  school  education  is,  first 
of  all,  that  much  of  it  is  actual  falsehood,  that  the  teachers  and 


316  THE  GLOBE. 

pupils  of  the  next  century  will  have  to  unteach  and  unlearn.  For 
instance,  the  astronomy  of  modern  times  is  more  than  half 
imagination.  The  geology  of  modern  times  may  be  wholly  false- 
hood ;  the  botany  of  modern  times  is  an  insult  to  the  humblest 
flower  that  grows.  The  physiology  of  modern  times,  especially  as 
related  to  the  alcoholic  problem  and  for  which  relationship  it  is 
mostly  taught  in  the  public  schools,  is  a  positive  lie.  And  there  is 
not  enough  breath  of  true  art  in  all  the  public  school  art  teaching 
in  America  to  produce  one  statue  or  one  picture  worth  the  trouble 
and  time  it  took  to  make  it,  not  to  speak  of  its  being  worth  any- 
thing from  an  artistic  point  of  view. 

Granted  that  these  statements  are  strong  and  partially  and 
purposely  exaggerated.  They  are  made  in  a  spirit  of  love  for  real 
truth  and  real  art  and  because  of  an  eternal  disgust  for  your  clap- 
trap of  these  things  in  the  newspaper,  educational  and  social  gossip 
of  the  day.  But  were  the  ologies  and  isms  as  taught  in  your  public 
schools  all  true,  and  all  should  study  them,  I  should  still  object  to 
their  being  taught  for  the  few  who  can  study  them  at  the  expense 
of  the  many  whose  children  cannot  pursue  them.  Again,  if  your 
ologies  and  isms  as  taught  in  your  public  schools  were  all  true,  and 
all  could  study  them,  I  should  object  to  their  being  taught  under 
government  patronage  and  control,  and  at  public  expense  by  govern- 
ment taxation,  and  above  all,  to  any  compulsory  system  of  public 
education  as  carried  on  in  these  days.  That  is,  I  should  object  to 
it  still  on  account  of  its  irreligiousness,  its  simple  and  cursed 
secularism,  and  still  further  for  its  vulgar  promiscuity,  its  inade- 
quateness,  its  usurpation  of  the  parental  power,  its  tendency  to 
make  unfilial  children,  mechanic  men  and  women,  and  generally 
because  it  treats  education  as  a  cramming  of  the  mind  with  so- 
called  facts,  half  of  which  are  not  facts,  but  lies;  instead  of  recog- 
nizing first  of  all  that  the  mind  is  an  atom  of  the  natural  and 
supernatural  universe  with  potentialities  high  as  heaven  if  properly 
educated  and  low  as  hell  if  improperly  educated,  as  at  the  present 
time. 

In  a  word,  I  am  opposed  first  of  all  to  the  public  school 
system  per  se;  am  opposed  to  the  fact  of  its  existence;  am 
opposed  to  the  primal  idea  that  the  State  or  the  Government 
should  provide  education  for  children  or  presume  to  dictate  what 
the  education  of  children  should  be;  second :  I  am  utterly  opposed 
to  our  American  system  of  public  school  instruction  alike  on  the 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS.  817 

grounds  that  half  its  facts  are  not  facts;  that  it  is  a  system  of 
cramming  and  not  properly  a  system  of  education  at  all ;  that  it  is 
purely  secular,  making  mere  machine  people  out  of  its  pupils,  and 
leaving  their  moral  natures,  their  spiritual  natures  and  their 
religious  potentialities,  hence  the  whole  sphere  of  their  manners 
and  habits  and  their  relations  of  life,  utterly  uncared  for,  and 
because  under  any  public  school  system,  directed  and  controlled  by 
a  secular  government  this  state  of  things  must  continue  to  be. 

I  am  perfectly  familiar  with  the  position  and  argument  of  the 
so-called  liberal  league  secularites,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
a  public  school  system  run  by  the  American  Government  not  only 
ought  to  be  secular,  utterly  and  absolutely  secular,  but  that  in  the 
nature  of  things,  and  spite  of  all  disguises,  it  is  secular  and  must 
remain  so  until  it  is  broken  to  pieces. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  am  perfectly  familiar  with  the  position 
and  arguments  of  the  various  Protestant  religious  advocates  of  the 
introduction  of  Bible  reading  and  prayers,  the  introduction  of  the 
reading  of  passages  of  the  sacred  books  of  all  nations  with  certain 
"  unsectarian  interpretations  of  these,"  etc.,  etc.,  and  that  such  a 
course  with  proper  family  training  in  religion  and  proper  Sunday- 
school  training  would  be  a  sufficient  provision  for  the  religious 
potentialities  of  our  children. 

And  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  if  the  proper  unsectarian  and 
ordained  persons  to  read  such  sacred  books  could  be  found  and  so 
provided,  and  the  proper  family  and  Sunday-school  religious  train- 
ing could  be  done  by  the  proper  persons,  and  manners  and  morals 
so  taught  that  young  people  would  grow  up  with  the  proper  notions 
of  their  parents,  of  society,  and  of  their  duties  and  relations  to  God, 
and  to  each  other,  I  should  be  measurably  satisfied  with  the  usurpa- 
tion of  the  secular  government  in  saying  what  sort  of  education 
children  should  receive. 

But  all  these  ifs  are  so  many  subterfuges  and  cities  of  escape  for 
mere  liars  and  teachers  of  lies. 

In  the  first  place  the  proper*  persons  to  read  and  expound  the 
sacred  books  cannot  be  found  outside  of  the  true  church  of  Christ; 
in  the  second  place,  as  the  average  parent  has  been  brought  up  in 
the  public  school  he  and  she  are  utterly  incompetent  to  give  pa- 
rental or  family  instructions  either  in  manners  or  morals,  not  to 
speak  of  religion;  and  in  the  third  place,  the  average  Sunday-school 
is,  of  all  places  of  instruction  on  this  earth,  the  last  place  where 


318  TITB!  GLOBE. 

such  instruction  in  religion,  in  morals  and  in  manners  is  or  can  be 
given;  for  the  teachers  themselves  have  not  been  properly  instructed 
in  these  things  and  hence  are  by  nature  and  training  and  habits 
utterly  incompetent  to  impart  that  instruction  to  others. 

So  far  I  have  said  nothing  about  the  prevailing  fact,  that  the 
average  teacher  of  our  public  schools,  male  or  female,  does  not 
expect  to  make  the  business  of  teaching  his  or  her  life  work;  has 
not  given  his  or  her  life  to  the  work,  but  simply  pursues  it  for  a 
living  till  marriage  or  one  of  the  so-called  professions  can  be  entered 
and  attained;  all  of  which  is  an  argument  against  his  or  her  prac- 
tical eflBciency  as  an  educator  of  the  young. 

Finally,  as  intimated  in  earlierparagraphsof  this  article,  I  have 
watched  the  effects  of  our  public  school  secular  education  upon  two 
or  three  generations,  the  one  namely  that  attained  its  majority 
when  I  was  a  boy  ;  the  one  that  has  grown  up  with  me  ;  and  the 
younger  generation  now  reaching  its  majority  and  early  manhood 
and  womanhood  all  over  this  land. 

Their  smartness  in  the  sense  that  cats  are  smart,  that  beavers 
are  smart  and  that  dogs  are  smart  I  do  not  question  for  a  moment; 
they  can  even  beat  the  devil  himself  with  their  arguments  and 
assurances  that  evil  is  good  and  that  you  need  not  mind  God 
Almighty  or  be  squeamish  about  morals  or  manners;  but  come  to 
downright  noble,  sincere,  gentlemanly  and  godly  manhood,  and  I 
defy  the  century  to  produce  one  man  educated  in  our  public  schools 
who  will  bear  the  test  of  such  a  criterion  and  so  prove  the  virtue 
and  value  of  the  system  itself. 

I  am  well  aware  that  quite  recently  in  the  city  of  Chicago  and 
elsewhere  the  late  James  G.  Blaine  has  been  held  up  as  an  example 
of  such  an  exceptionally  excellent  man;  the  typical  American  and 
the  typical  product  of  our  public  schools  and  our  secular  methods 
of  government  in  general. 

I  perfectly  agree  with  his  admirers  that  he  was  in  all  his  ways 
from  boy-hood  to  death  a  typical  American  citizen;  but  God  forbid 
that  I  should  ever  lend  my  pen  or  my  voice  to  the  commendation  of 
such  a  life  as  his. 

I  do  not  judge  or  condemn  the  man.  He  is  dead  and  I  hope 
has  found  the  mercy  we  all  need;  but  I  utterly  and  everlastingly 
condemn  the  methods  of  the  man;  and  I  pity  to  utter  nausea  the 
half-cracked,  mere  clown  orators  who  orate  in  his  glorification. 

In  a  word,  I  look  upon  the  methods,  episodes  and  aims  of  his 
life   as  God  Almighty's   strongest    arguments  against  the   whole 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL   SCHOOLS.  819 

American  system  of  secular  public  school  education,  and  the  time 
will  come  when  every  true  American  and  every  sensible  man  will 
say  Amen,  and  Amen. 

I  also  readily  see  how  it  is  that  many  Catholics  in  this  age  favor 
the  public  schools,  and  are  not  only  willing,  but  glad,  to  have  their 
children  become  teachers  therein,  that  is,  in  spite  of  the  secular  basis 
on  which  they  are  run.  The  race  for  wealth  and  position  is  such 
in  this  land  that  many  Catholics  are  being  swept  to  moral  death  on 
the  way;  and  if  they  can  find  free  instruction  for  their  children,  or 
comparatively  free,  and  then  can  find  positions  for  them  as  teachers 
in  public  schools,  all  the  while  seeing  that  such  positions  will  not 
only  increase  the  family  income,  but  advance  the  young  ladies  soci- 
ally, it  is  difficult  for  them  to  see  that  in  taking  such  a  course  they 
are  taking  sides  with  falsehood  and  the  devil  against  the  true  inter- 
ests of  their  own  Church  and  their  own  souls.  But  such  I  take  to 
be  their  actual  position;  and  while  not  condemning  them  person- 
ally— that  is  not  my  business — I  cannot  help  teaching  them  pub- 
licly that  they  are  taking  sides  with  modern  secularism  and  becom- 
ing its  advocates,  as  against  the  true  Church  and  their  own  higher 
spiritual  needs  and  privileges . 

In  a  word,  could  I  have  had  my  way  I  never  would  have  allowed 
a  child  of  mine  to  enter  a  public  school  or  a  Protestant  Sunday- 
school;  and  in  this  case,  as  in  others,  lam  always  willing  to  have  my 
teachings  brought  to  the  test  of  my  own  personal  experience  and  life. 
I  do  not  teach  one  thing  and  live  another,  and  I  defy  the  world  to 
prove  it  so.  This  is  my  testimony  to  this  generation  regarding 
public  schools  and  public  school  education  so-called;  and  the  thou- 
sand unnamed  arguments  that  you  would  advance  have  already  been 
considered  in  my  own  mind  and  life  these  last  forty  years,  with  the 
honest  result  as  here  given. 

As  regards  parochial  schools  or  schools  of  ordinary  education 
conducted  under  the  direction  of  parish  priests,  and  schools  con- 
ducted by  Jesuits,  and  by  the  various  religious  and  teaching 
female  sisterhoods  of  the  Catholic  Church,  I  have  had  much  less 
experience  than  I  have  had  with  public  school  teaching  and  the 
results  thereof;  but  such  experience  as  I  have  had  is  in  perfect 
keeping  with  and  perfectly  corroborative  of  my  convictions  these 
last  twenty  years,  that  the  parochial  school  or  the  school  conducted 
by  competent  sisters  under  the  religious  direction  of  a  priest  is  the 
ideal  school  for  the  education  of  the  youth  of  this  generation. 


820  fEE  OLOBE. 

To  begin  with,  I  am  not  foolish  enough  to  suppose  or  to  teach 
that  all  priests  are  immaculate,  or  that  in  all  ways  and  in  all  cases 
they  are  the  persons  to  direct  the  education  of  children.  Nor  do  I 
mean  to  say  or  suggest  that  all  the  teaching  sisters  are  perfect, 
immaculate  or  entirely  competent  persons.  There  were  always 
black  sheep  in  the  whitest  flocks  that  ever  fed  on  the  hills  of  God. 
But  my  observation  and  studies  these  many  years,  and  my  close 
and  intimate  acquaintance  with  parochial  and  Catholic  schools  these 
last  two  years,  all  convince  me  that  the  idea  at  the  bottom  of  them 
is  perfect;  that  the  idea  loyally  carried  out  is  the  best  conceivable 
means  for  actually  educating  and  storing  the  youthful  mind  with 
such  facts  and  force  as  it  needs  for  the  most  perfect  development 
of  its  powers  and  for  its  usefulness  and  happiness  in  this  world,  and ' 
for  whatever  future  is  allotted  to  the  children  of  men. 

It  is  probably  true  that  the  best  Catholic  colleges  in  this  country 
for  the  training  of  young  men  do  not  advance  them  as  far  or  as 
thoroughly  in  the  classics  or  in  mathematics  as  the  universities  of 
Harvard  and  Yale.  I  do  not  know  that  this  is  true,  but  Catholic 
parents  have  so  asserted  to  me.  Nor  am  I  especially  interested  in 
that  phase  of  the  question.  The  ideals  of  the  Catholic  and  of  the 
secular  universities  are  wholly  different,  and  I  must  not  go  minutely 
into  that  phase  of  it.  The  university  is  a  private  affair  any  way, 
and  I  am  writing  of  public  versus  religious  or  parochial  schools. 

And,  in  general,  this  is  what  I  find,  that  children  taught  in 
parochial  schools,  and  the  schools  under  the  direction  of  religious 
orders,  though  they  may  not  pass  certain  examinations  as  readily  as 
children  taught  in  public  schools — the  methods  being  so  different — 
though  I  think  the  average  would  hardly  prove  the  deficiency  of  pa- 
rochial school  children — have  along  with  the  corresponding  com- 
mon facts  of  a  common  school  education  learned,  at  least,  that  they 
have  been  taught  something,  yea,  several  things,  thank  God,  that 
the  public  school  children  are  as  ignorant  of  as  are  the  savages  of 
our  Western  plains.  I  do  not  mean  to  intimate  that  all  the  chil- 
dren taught  in  parochial  schools  and  Catholic  academies  turn  out  to 
be  saints  or  even  exemplary  Christians.  It  is  an  infinitely  difficult 
matter,  even  with  all  the  influences  of  supernatural  grace  conveyed 
through  heaven-ordained  institutions,  to  make  saints  out  of  our 
fallen,  or  as  yet  undeveloped  Darwinian  humanity.  Men  like 
evangelist  Moody  can  make  saints  by  the  million,  much  as  a  saw- 
mill turns  boards  out  of  logs,  and  the  devil  can  unmake  them  about 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS.  8«1 

as  fast  as  a  16,000,000  Boston  fire  can  burn  up  the  latest  scientific 
trappings  of  fire-proof  buildings.  You  can  do  almost  anything  by 
Protestant  machinery  in  these  days. 

Women  like  Frances  Willard  can  revolutionize  society,  stop 
drunkenness,  prostitution  and  debauchery  by  making  silly  speeches 
and  hobnobbing  with  English  noblewomen  as  silly  as  themselves. 
But  the  men  and  women  who  create  and  live  by  debauchery  and 
prostitution  laugh  at  these  effete  female  cranks  and  go  on  enjoy- 
ing and  amusing  themselves  all  the  same. 

Good  priests  know  and  good  sisters  of  the  Catholic  Church  who 
give  their  lives  to  educate  and  save  people  know  how  hard  it  is 
even  to  save  themselves,  not  to  speak  of  making  a  thousand  con- 
verts a  week  at  ten  dollars  a  head. 

Saints  are  not  easily  made,  even  with  all  the  appliances 
and  powers  and  observances  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  many 
children  brought  up  in  parochial  schools  go  to  the  bad.  But 
I  am  satisfied  that  the  proportion  of  children  so  brought  up 
who  fall  into  sin  is  far  less  than  the  proportion  of  those  who  are 
brought  up  in  public  schools. 

Human  nature,  even  in  this  nineteenth  Christian  century  and 
in  this  land  of  natural  gas,  free  ballots  and  free  bribes,  is  a  tough 
knot  to  handle  ;  in  a  word,  a  very  complex  and  a  very  profound 
and  delicate  subject  to  touch,  to  elevate  and  redeem. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  true  priests  of  the 
church  are  the  only  persons  properly  educated  and  ordained  to 
superintend  and  direct  the  religious  instruction  and  training  of 
children  as  well  as  adults ;  and  that  into  their  hands  the  whole 
matter  must  be  committed  ;  that  mere  bible  reading,  etc.,  by 
untaught,  sometimes  unconverted  people,  and  the  exposition  of 
the  sacred  books  of  all  nations,  by  mere  upstart  tyros  and  ground- 
lings in  the  study  of  such  sacred  books,  will  not  do. 

And  it  is  also  perfectly  clear  to  my  mind  that  the  presence  each 
day  on  the  part  of  children  as  well  as  adults  at  the  service  of  the 
Mass,  and  the  service  of  the  Benediction,  where  the  real  presence 
of  the  Savior,  and  His  divinely  beautiful  suffering  for  the  world 
are  made  a  living  fact  before  their  minds — it  is  perfectly  clear  to 
my  mind,  I  say,  that  the  presence  of  children  each  day  at  this 
beautiful  and  vivid  reoffering  of  the  Sacrifice  on  Calvary,  the 
noblest,  immeasurably  the  noblest  and  divinest  thing  that  ever 
has  occurred  on  this  earth,  must  have  a  softening,  a  refining  and 


332  THE  GLOBE. 

an  inward  enlightening  effect  upon  their  minds  and  hearts  and 
lives,  and  that  when  it  is  a  question  whether  children  shall  have  a 
common,  ordinary  education  with  or  without  the  daily  influence 
of  this  divine  event  and  the  beautiful  power  of  Catholic  music  over 
their  souls,  those  parents  are  simply  blind  in  their  moral  insanity 
who  choose  to  have  the  secular  education  for  their  children  without 
the  divine,  when  they  can  have  the  two  together. 

I  am  very  tired  of  all  our  modern  fine-spun  talk  about  the  higher 
education  and  all  that;  while  it  avoids  the  real  issues  of  the  day, 
dwells  simply  in  the  old  transcendentalism  of  Emerson  and  the  fads 
of  fifty  years  ago,  and  shoots  over  the  heads  of  the  millions  whose 
souls  real  priests  and  educators  are  set  here  and  sent  here  to  save. 

The  higher  education  is  simply  obedience  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  without  it  the  culture  of  the  schools,  the  blessings  of 
science  and  the  prosperities  of  wealth  are  so  many  series  of  ever- 
lasting damnation.  The  sooner  we  learn  this  and  give  up  ninety 
per  cent,  of  our  foolish  clap-trap  about  culture  and  science  and 
the  higher  education  the  better  for  ourselves  and  the  world  at 
large. 

Now  my  position  is  that  this  power  of  obedience  to  Christ  is 
infinitely  more  likely  to  be  gained  through  the  instructions  and 
influences  of  parochial  than  through  those  of  public  schools  ;  hence, 
I  am  with  all  my  heart  and  soul  in  favor  of  parochial  schools  or 
schools  everywhere  with  due  and  proper  and  regular  religious 
instructions  and  services  in  them  conducted  by  the  only  men 
truly  ordained  to  hold   such  services. 

In  a  word,  from  the  human  standpoint  I  want  no  power  of  the 
human  soul  left  dormant.  I  want  no  cultured  atheists  like  Inger- 
soll  in  the  near  generations  of  the  future,  and  I  do  not  want  them 
simply,  or  at  least  first  of  all  because  they  are  mere  excrescences, 
fungus  growths,  are  not  true  and  all-round  and  complete  men,  and 
from  the  religious  standpoint  I  want  the  world  won  for  Christ 
simply  because  he  deserves  it.  The  essences  of  his  soul  and  suffer- 
ings have  fairly  won  it.  It  belongs  to  him  not  only  by  creation, 
bat  by  such  sublime  redemption  that  the  stars  may  well  crown 
him  and  the  fadeless  roses  of  immortal  love  wreath  his  brow  as  the 
Savior  immortal,  the  king  of  kings.  For  many  years,  long  before 
I  became  a  Catholic,  I  have  been  wanting  to  say  something  like 
this  about  the  popular  and  the  select  education  of  the  day. 

I  admit  that  much  of  the  needed  work  of  the  age  is  mechanical 
and  requires  mechanical  education.     But  these  things  ought  ye  to 


PUBLIC  AND  PAROCHIAL  SCHOOLS.  828 

have  done  and  not  to  have  left  the  others  undone.  The  age 
is  not  only  mechanical;  it  is  godless  in  its  mechanism.  I  admit  the 
necessity  and  beauty  of  the  study  of  nature  and  the  sciences, 
but  the  godless  mechanic  bent  of  the  age  has  been  such 
that  in  its  study  of  nature  and  the  sciences  it  has  missed 
the  very  soul  and  meaning  and  life  of  nature,  and  has  attemp- 
ted to  supplant  the  Almighty  by  series  after  series  of  mere 
Spencer  and  Huxley  wind-bag  rhetorical  platitudes,  ninety  per 
cent,  of  which  are  the  silliest  of  pitiable  and  contemptible  lies. 

These  things  ought  ye  to  have  done,  but  not  in  such  a  way  as 
to  pile  up  your  pyramids  of  windy  philosophy  till  they  hide  even 
from  your  own  eyes  the  true  secret  and  meanings  of  nature  and 
the  true  heroisms  and  eternal  soul  centers  and  vivifying,  electric, 
historic  currents  of  human  history. 

I  have  no  quarrel  with  secular  education  ;  I  have  no  quarrel 
with  the  most  exquisite  of  mental  culture.  I  have  given  my  life 
to  win  these  things.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  true  science;  the  half 
of  my  life  has  been  spent  in  the  study  of  physical  nature  and  her 
laws.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  art.  I  am  almost  a  daily  worshipper 
at  its  shrine  ;  and  next  to  God  love  it,  as  I  love  all  beauty.  I  have 
no  quarrel  with  mechanism,  or  with  the  preponderance  of  its 
power  in  modern  life.  I  always  bow  to  the  supremacy  of  a  real 
fact,  but  the  culture,  the  art,  the  science,  the  secular  education, 
the  mechanism  that  so  train  me  as  to  lead  me  to  forget  that 
Almighty  God  is  the  source  and  law  of  all  culture,  the  soul  of  all 
art  and  beauty,  the  controller  of  all  mechanic  forces,  the  quintes- 
sence of  all  the  laws  of  science,  the  divine  unity  in  which  they  all 
dwell,  from  which  they  all  spring,  and  in  which  and  in  whom  they 
and  we  all  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,  and  to  whom  we  all 
ought  to  be  daily  grateful  from  the  centers  of  our  souls,  is  as  false 
to  human  nature  as  it  is  to  Almighty  God.  I  believe  that  our 
public  school  system  tends  towards  this  godlessness,  is  in  no  small 
measure  responsible  for  it,  and  therefore  I  am  in  favor  of  such 
education  as  will  forever  reverse  this  unnatural  and  undivine  order 
of  things. 

Neither  Archbishop  Ireland  nor  any  other  man,  however, 
need  dream  for  a  moment  that  the  Faribault  system  or  any  thing 
like  it  will  be  generally  adopted  in  this  country  until  a  majority  of 
American  citizens  are  Catholic,  and  in  that  event  of  course 
there  would  be  no  need  of  such  a  system. 


324  THE  GLOBE. 

In  the  little  village  of  Bourbonnais,  near  Kankakee,  Illinois— 
where  this  article  was  written — the  one  public  school  of  the  village 
has  for  more  than  twenty  years  been  simply  a  parochial  school;  that 
is,  a  Catholic  school,  taught  and  superintended  by  priests  or  by  the 
brothers  preparing  for  the  priesthood  at  St.  Viateur's  College,  and 
the  government  has  paid  the  bills.  Why?  Simply  because  all  the 
inhabitants,  constituting  many  hundreds,  are  Catholics,  mostly 
French  Canadian  Catholics,  and  there  are  no  atheists  around  in 
sufficient  numbers  to  rob  them  of  the  school  taxes  they  pay. 

This  is  the  Faribault  system  and  ten  times  better;  and  when  I 
see  all  this  going  on  under  my  own  eyes  day  by  day,  and  watch 
the  hundreds  of  students  at  their  daily  devotions  in  our  College 
chapel,  and  notice  the  thousands  of  people  that  seem  to  swarm  here 
every  Sunday  attending  the  Catholic  church  from  all  parts  of  the 
surrounding  country,  and  when  I  notice  the  prevailing  quietness 
and  good  manners  and  refined  faces  of  the  people  of  this  com- 
munity, and  see  also  close  by  the  College  and  Church  a  flourish- 
ing and  a  very  select  convent  school  under  the  capable  direction  of 
the  sisters  of  Notre  Dame,  and  remember  that  this  is  the  very  spot 
from  which  that  old  reprobate  Chiniquy  ran  away  and  in  connec- 
tion with  which  he  tried  to  expose  the  corruptions  of 
Catholics — but  succeeded  only  in  exposing  the  Corruption  of 
his  own  heart — it  sometimes  seems  to  me  that  the  place  is  some 
new  Arcadia,  dropped  down  out  of  the  fairy  lands  of  spiritual 
dreams  and  martyr  days,  and  that  I  am  simply  an  unworthy 
visitor  among  noble  souls  who  long  have  been  living  the  life  and 
pursuing  the  vocation  of  my  own  ideal  dreams  for  the  true  educa- 
tion of  the  human  mind  and  the  human  soul.  , 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


THE  FATE  OF  IRISH  LEADERS 


Faraway  in  the  storm-tossed  Atlantic,  midway  between  the  con- 
tinents of  the  new  and  the  old  worlds,  where  the  billows  unceasingly 
form  their  restless  battalions  to  cope  with  enemies  as  unstable  as 
themselves,  the  Irish  legends  placed  an  enchanted  island,  whose 
shores,  ever  retreating  as  they  were  approached,  tempted  the  luck- 
less mariner  from  home  and  safety.  He  never  made  the  promised 
harbor — he  never  regained  the  port  he  sailed  from — he  became  the 


THE  FATE  OF  IRISE  LEADERS.  826 

prey  of  the  Storm  King,  a  waif  and  a  castaway.  Somehow,  this  old 
story  seems  applicable,  to  the  fate  of  the  Irish  leaders  of  this  cent- 
ury, so  nearly  past,  to  their  arduous  quest  for  independence,  their 
turbulent  and  exciting  struggles,  and  their  ultimate  failure  either 
to  compass  their  ends,  or  to  retain  their  position  among  the  very 
people  whose  cause  they  championed.  And  now,  when  success 
seems  within  a  measurable  distance  there  is  not  a  leader's  hand 
to  seize  the  phantom  prize. 

Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald — dying  with  the  shout  of  defiance  on 
his  lips,  Emmet  giving  up  his  young  life  on  the  scaffold,  are  still 
the  heroic  embodiment  of  that  nationality — death  was  merciful  to 
them  ;  but  who  in  Ireland  thinks  of  Meagher,  brave  as  he  was  bril- 
liant— *'  Meagher  of  the  sword  "  drowned  in  the  rushing  Missouri, 
whose  river  torrent  was  not  more  forceful  than  his  eloquence;  of 
D'Arcy  MacGee,  the  victim  in  exile  of  a  cowardly  assassin.  John 
Mitchell  is  but  a  name;  Gavin  Duffy  has  returned  to  find  himself 
forgotten ;  Stephens  has  been  trying  in  vain  to  play  over  again  the 
melo-dramatic  role  that  once  made  him  famous — while  in  the 
ranks  of  those  who  attempted  constitutional  methods  the  final 
collapse  is  even  still  more  clearly  defined. 

Ten  years  more  than  a  century  ago,  Henry  Grattan,  that  pale 
and  fragile  enthusiast — backed  by  forty  thousand  armed  volunteers, 
thundered  at  Britain's  gates  and  obtained  an  unwilling  assent  to 
his  demand  for  legislative  independence.  Before  his  time  the 
Irish  parliament  consisted  mainly  of  the  nominees  of  the  Irish  peers 
who  were  elected  to  retain  their  seats  as  long  as  the  king  reigned, 
and  as  George  the  third,  of  happy  memory,  filled  the  throne  for 
some  sixty  years,  no  great  change  of  policy  could  be  expected 
from  such  legislators. 

Their  successors,  the  men  of  '83,  to  whose  days  the  Irish  patriot 
of  the  present  points  with  pride,  were  exclusively  Episcopalian. 
Protestant  in  religion,  not  even  a  Catholic  peer  of  Ireland  being 
eligible  to  a  seat  in  the  house  of  Lords,  no  Presbyterian  or 
dissenter  of  any  kind  was  competent  to  sit  or  even  vote  for  their 
election.  In  1793,  however,  at  the  instance  of  the  English  cabinet, 
some  relaxation  of  the  penal  code  was  effected,  the  English  policy 
being  to  establish  some  counterpoise  to  this  vigorous  intolerance, 
which  on  the  one  hand  defied  the  might  of  the  ruling  country,  and 
on  the  other  kept  its  mailed  gauntlet  on  the  Catholics'  throat. 
Thence  arose  the  desperate  issues  for  Ireland  ;  the  secret  societies 


896  THE  GLOBE. 

came  into  being,  the  Hearts  of  Oak  and  the  Orange  lodges  were 
inaugurated,  and  finally  the  United  Irishmen;  to  end  in  the  terrible 
rebellion  of  '98,  forced  on  the  people — the  most  shameful  and  horri- 
ble of  civil  wars — fought  against  almost  unarmed  peasants  and 
carried  to  a  cruel  consummation.  They  were  shot,  and  hung,  and 
scalped  with  the  pitch  cap  at  the  triangles.  But  the  end  was 
gained,  and  then  the  Parliament  of  Grattan,  or  rather  enough  of  its 
members,  was  bought  body  and  soul  ;  to  use  his  own  words  "  he 
had  stood  by  Irish  Independence  in  its  cradle  and  he  had  followed 
it  to  its  grave.'' 

Of  Grattan  himself,  I  shall  only  quote  the  words  of  his  son  in 
later  years,  speaking  of  his  treatment  by  his  countrymen  :  "  Their 
admiration,  nay  adoration  gave  him  fifty  thousand  pounds  sterling, 
and  afterwards  they  reproached  him  with  great  malignity ; 
endeavored  to  blast  their  own  grant ;  followed  him,  broken  down 
by  sickness,  to  a  distant  country  with  the  bitterest  invective  ; 
exercised  towards  the  same  man,  the  same  person,  the  same  meas- 
ures in  the  short  space  of  a  few  months,  adoration,  detestation, 
unexampled  liberality  and  unprecedented  abuse." 

After  a  longer  interregnum  than  is  generally  supposed,  0*Con- 
nell  came  on  the  scene,  for  the  national  heart  was  palsied  by  the 
horrors  of  the  rebellion,  of  which  Emmet's  outbreak  was  the  des- 
perate sequel,  and  it  takes  time  to  steady  the  nerves  even  of  a 
nation.  But  at  length  the  hour  had  come  and  the  man,  rarely 
equipped  by  nature  and  training  for  a  mighty  mission.  To  free 
the  bondsmen  by  gaining  their  religious  emancipation ;  to  enthrall 
their  Celtic  imaginations  by  his  wonderful  Celtic  eloquence,  so 
that  the  heroic  serf  of  Ireland  was  made  brave  to  face  and  conquer 
the  ascendancy  that  enslaved  him — was  made  brave  enough  to  do 
this  without  the  legal  protection  of  fixity  of  tenure  and  a  secret 
ballot.  No  aid  had  these  poor,  gallant  souls  in  their  long  and 
weary  struggle  but  the  advice  of  the  "  soggarth  "  and  the  help  of 
the  liberal  landlords — sparse  enough  in  Ireland — and  the  glorious 
advocacy  of  "King  Dan."  Hundreds  of  thousands  flocked  to 
listen  to  those  words  of  hope  and  that  marvelous  voice  which  could 
reach  the  ears  and  the  hearts  of  all.  He  preached  the  wiser  doc- 
trines of  peace,  while  the  myriads  shouted  their  applause.  But  the 
end  was  not  yet,  and  there  was  backsliding.  One  derided  the 
"splendid  phantom  of  repeal";  others  wanted  the  thronging 
legions  to  invoke  the   *'god   of  battles" — a  false  god  for  the 


THE  FATE  OF  IRISH  LEADERS.  827 

anarmed  and  undisciplined.  The  ranks  wavered  and  weakened  ; 
dissension,  not  opposition,  wore  him  down,  and  the  mighty  trib- 
une— his  heart  broken — died  at  Genoa  ;  left  his  heart  to  Rome,  his 
body  to  Ireland  ;  who  can  never  be  forgotten,  but  who  has  lost  with 
the  fickle  multitude  his  imperial  attribute  of  national  veneration. 

Isaac  Butt,  who  may  be  said  to  have  followed  O'Oonnell — albeit 
foul  pretenders  came  meanwhile  to  delude  honester  men  than  them- 
selves, was  the  son  of  a  Donegal  clergyman,  the  first  Professor  of 
Political  Economy  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  whose  earlier  life 
had  been  passed  as  a  stout  defender  of  conservative  rule.  But 
even  in  his  tilts  with  O'Counell  the  nationalist  impulse  swayed  his 
speech — that  nationalism  which  lives  in  every  Irish  heart,  although 
tempered  and  often  alienated  by  a  wholesome  dread  of  the  intoler- 
ant majority. 

And  what  a  speech  was  Isaac's;  one  of  the  few  men  whoever  lived 
who  could  fascinate  even  a  hostile  audience  ;  whose  eloquence  could 
flash  with  the  true  Celtic  fire,  though,  when  the  occasion 
required,  he  could  calmly  reason  as  powerfully  as  he  declaimed. 
One  of  the  secrets  of  his  power  was  what  is  sometimes  called  mag- 
netism ;  he  had  faults,  weaknesses,  eccentricity  as  men  knew,  but 
over  all  was  that  exquisite  social  charm  which  can  make  or  mar  a 
career.  It  was  blended  with  all  his  acts,  it  probably  both  made 
his  career  and  marred  it.  He  threw  away  the  almost  certainty  of 
being  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland,  and  probably  a  peer  of  the 
Realm,  to  follow  the  call  of  that  noble  and  generous  impulse.  He 
was  large-hearted,  unselfish,  sympathetic  to  a  degree,  untiring  in 
his  patriotic  devotion  through  storm  and  sunshine.  Few  could 
appreciate  him  fully,  so  Irish,  so  inconsistent  were  his  attributes. 
Archibald  Butler  said  of  him  :  "He  alone  who  made  him  was  fit 
to  pass  judgment  on  him."  His  intellect  and  acquirements  were 
superb  ;  he  was  the  faithful  soldier  of  liberty  ;  and  he,  too,  died  of 
a  broken  heart — deposed  from  the  power  he  yearned  for,  the  power 
to  magnify  Ireland — hounded  to  death  by  men  who  could  not  appre- 
ciate because  they  could  never  possess  his  personal  charm  and 
magnetism  and  his  magnificent  acquirements. 

It  did  not  need  the  death  of  Butt  to  find  Parnell  ready  to  step 
into  the  breach,  to  assume  the  garment  of  Nessus,  the  fatal  honor 
of  being  the  leader  and  the  hope  of  Ireland.  This  inscrutable 
Parnell,  who  was  so  lately  here,  and  over  whose  grave  such  con- 
troversies are  raging  that  it  seems   impossible  to  catch  the  impar- 


828  THE  GLOBE. 

tial  lights  and  shadows  of  his  history.  Most  men  who  study  pub- 
lic affairs  know  something,  at  least,  of  his  public  life,  and  there  are 
few  here  who  have  left  the  shores  of  the  Emerald  Isle  for  the  past 
fi?e  years  who  can  not  tell  you  '*  all  about  Mr.  Parnell."  Yet  the 
men  nearest  to  him  in  the  arduous  struggle  knew  him  but  little 
personally  ;  he  played  them  as  pawns  in  the  game  of  politics.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  made  them,  and  he  also  ruled  them ;  his 
wishes  were  commands — were  conveyed  as  such.  He  was  an  aris- 
tocrat ah  imo  pectore,  yet  he  chose  for  closest  ally  the  vulgar, 
objectionable,  but  indomitable  radical,  Biggar.  They  hit  upon  a 
policy  of  complete  obstruction  of  the  business  of  Parliament  by 
availing  themselves  of  the  usages  followed  in  debate — a  mass  of 
precedents  built  up  by  men,  up  to  that  time,  pervaded  by  the  high- 
est sense  of  respect  for  the  honor  and  integrity  of  Parliament. 
But  here  was  a  pretty  how-do-you-do.  These  new  men  had  no 
bumps  of  veneration  ;  their  cranial  development  probably  showed 
a  decided  cavity  in  that  region.  They  availed  themselves  of  time- 
honored  usage  to  flout  the  amenities  hitherto  observed  ;  they 
attracted  other  Irish  members  to  their  standard,  and  they  added  a 
new  sensation  to  parliamentary  ethics  when  they  discovered  that  the 
mass  of  their  countrymen  highly  applauded  any  act  of  contempt 
shown  the  prerogative  of  the  speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons.  In 
days  prior  to  this  reign  of  misrule,  a  word  from  the  chair  quelled 
any  signs  of  turbulence ;  now,  to  be  forcibly  expelled  by  the 
sergeant-at-arms  became  a  badge  of  distinction  to  be  wired  across 
the  ocean,  to  be  written  of  in  the  national  newspapers  as  a  sure 
sign  that  the  hero  of  the  episode  had  not  "  sold  the  pass."  It 
came  before  long  that  Mr.  Gladstone  yielded  to  this  assault,  and 
made  the  memorable  statement  that  when  Ireland  sent  a  strong 
majority  demanding  Home  Rule,  the  question  would  rise  to  the 
position  of  practical  politics.  The  answer  was  not  long  in  coming. 
The  tenant  farmers,  the  back-bone  of  the  constituencies,  fixed  in 
their  farms  by  previous  legislation  and  protected  by  the  most 
secret  of  ballots,  were  not  afraid  to  join  the  borough  electors  in 
voting  for  Parnell's  nominees,  and  long  before  now  Home  Rule 
had  been  won,  but  for  the  defection  of  Lord  Hartington  and  the 
Unionist  members  from  the  Liberal  standard.  Parnell  had  suc- 
ceeded indeed  where  the  brilliant  leaders  of  other  days  had  failed  ; 
he  was  the  world's  hero  and  the  pride  of  Ireland — 


RAIN  AND  THE  RAINMAKERS.  829 

Yet,  listen  to  the  wail  of  the  Banshie,  that  gloomy  death-song, 
that  sad  and  fatal  dirge  which  saluted  Grattan  and  O'Connell 
and  Isaac  Butt,  though  the  words  are  changed  : 

"Blot  out  his  name  there,  record  one  lost  soul  more, 
One  task  more  decliaed,  one  more  foot-path  untrod. 
One  more  devil's  triumph  and  sorrow  for  angels, 
One  wrong  more  to  man,  one  more  insult  to  God." 

The  same  history,  the  same  triumphs,  the  same  magnificent 
gifts,  the  same  failure.  Truly,  the  Irish  are  a  **  contrary  "  people  ; 
has  it  not  been  written,  "Unstable  as  water  thou  shalt  not  excel." 

J.  G.  Helt. 


RAIN   AND  THE  RAIN-MAKERS. 


Until  recently  it  was  generally  understood  that  the  Almighty 
had  an  exclusive  patent  on  the  manufacture  of  rain ;  and  I  am 
still  inclined  to  the  old  opinion.  The  age,  however,  is  as  wonder- 
ful for  its  real  discoveries,  rather  for  its  new  interpretations  and 
manipulation  of  natural  forces,  as  for  its  everlasting  panaceas  and 
humbuggeries. 

Whether  the  new  rain  makers  are  to  be  embraced  among  the 
humbugs  or  among  the  true  benefactors  of  the  age  appears  still  to 
be  an  open  question  ;  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that  if  the  thing  really 
can  be  done,  or,  as  my  good  friend,  the  Hon.  R.  G.  Dyreuforth, 
puts  it,  has  been  done,  why  there  has  been  time  and  opportunity 
enough  to  have  done  the  thing  so  thoroughly,  so  lavishly  if  you 
please,  that  no  dry  old  fogy  like  myself  could  have  escaped  his 
wetting  up  to  date  ;  sill  I  know  how  long  it  takes  in  this  won- 
drous age  to  get  even  good  people  to  see  and  feel  a  good  thing,  or  to 
admit  it  when  they  do  see  and  feel  it.  And  perhaps,  afterall,  many, 
of  the  showers  that  make  the  down  town  streets  of  Chicago  so 
black  and  dirty,  may  have  come,  in  a  measure  from  those 
eternal  clouds  of  steam  and  smoke  that  rise  day  and  night  from  a 
thousand  chimneys. 

Bain  was  always  a  beautiful  mystery,  yet  partially  understood 
The  waters,  gathered  from  the  oceans  and  rivers,  up  into  the  open 
spaces  of  heaven,  returned  again  to  water  the  earth,  and  thence  to 
the  sources  whence  they  came.     Of  course,  there  was  always  a  little 


330  THE  GLOBE. 

curiosity  and  doubt  as  to  who  let  down  the  old  oaken  bucket  and 
how  the  placid  waters  yielded  to  the  touch  of  an  unseen  hand. 

In  these  days  we  call  the  daily  mystery  evaporation,  and  think 
that  because  we  have  spliced  a  new  word  together  we  hare 
explained  it  all,  and  could  do  better  than  the  unseen  hand  if  only 
the  government  would  be  generous  with  its  appropriations  of 
money  and  material. 

I  confess  myself  something  of  a  fatalist,  perhaps  something  of  a 
Christian  regarding  the  manufacture  and  distribution  of  rain. 
So,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  various  sections  of  our  land, 
get  just  about  the  quantity  and  quality  of  rain  best  for  them,  and  I 
think  for  instance  that  to  farm  out  the  Dakotas  into  tree  farms 
— "tree  claims" — as  well  as  stock  farms  was  a  far  more  sensible 
way  of  coaxing  the  right  quantity  of  rain  into  Dakota  than  it 
would  have  been  to  have  kept  the  Dakotas  as  a  sort  of  hunting 
ground  for  savages  and  an  experimenting  place  for  the  Hon. 
Dyrenforth  &  Co.  In  saying  this  I  mean  no  disrespect  towards  this 
worthy  gentleman. 

On  my  way  from  the  West,  last  summer,  it  was  my  good  fortune 
to  meet  Gen.  Dyrenforth  and  to  talk  with  him  at  first  hand  on  the 
subject  of  the  human  manufacture  of  rain.  At  first  he  went  over 
the  old  story,  familiar  to  every  man  of  observation,  that  after  the 
great  battles  of  our  late  war  there  were  usually  heavy  rain-falls; 
not  necessarily  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  recent  battle 
fields,  but  near  enough  all  the  same  to  suggest  a  possible,  if  not 
probable  connection  between  the  smoke  and  combustion  of  battle 
fields  and  the  rain  falls  that  followed. 

Nobody  has  ever  undertaken  to  prove,  I  believe,  that  such 
rain-falls  were  actually  caused  by  the  smoke  of  previous  battles ; 
neither  has  any  one,  as  far  as  I  know,  undertaken  to  prove  from 
atmospheric  conditions  that  such  rainfalls  after  great  battles, 
would  certainly  have  occurred  if  these  battles  had  never  taken 
place.  The  truth  is,  that  severe  and  exact  thinking  and  observa- 
tion on  these  points  are  far  more  difficult  and  far  less  remunera- 
tive than  to  engage  in  so-called  scientific  experiments  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  Government,  that  is,  at  the  expense  of  the  people. 

I  must  say,  however,  that  Professor  Dyrenforth,  in  his  state- 
ments to  me,  was  fair  and  very  intelligent.  He  admitted  frankly 
that  in  certain  of  his  experiments  rain  had  followed,  and  in  such 
quantities  as  to  lead  him  to  believe  that  the  rain  was  produced  by 


RAIN  AND   THE  RAINMAKERS.  881 

his  experiments;  but  just  as  frankly  that  in  other  experiments  rain 
had  not  followed;  hence  arose  the  question:  would  the  rain-falls 
that  came,  have  come  anyway — without  the  experiments,  or  were 
they  caused  by  the  General  and  his  explosions? 

As  late  as  November  4,  1892,  I  found  in  a  Chicago  paper  the 
following  account  of  more  recent  experiments  than  those  of  which 
Gen.  Dyrenforth  had  spoken  to  me, 

''  Start  for  Texas  to-day. — Rain-makers  will  change  their  exper- 
imenting grounds. — Observer's  opinions. — Washington,  D.  C, 
Nov.  4. — Gen.  Dyrenforth  and  his  party  leave  Washington  to-day 
for  some  rainless  region  in  Texas  or  New  Mexico,  where  he  says  a 
thoroughly  scientific  test  will  be  made. 

"An  official  connected  with  the  experiments  has  given  a  state- 
ment of  his  personal  observations  of  the  results  of  the  bombard- 
ments Wednesday  night.  He  says  that  the  first  explosion  at  1 :50 
a.  m.  was  followed  by  a  lively  shower  of  rain.  At  2:45  a.  m. 
another  explosion  occurred  and  rain  followed  within  two  minutes. 
No  rain  followed  the  explosion  at  2:53,  but  the  clouds  broke  away 
and  the  sky  cleared.  At  3:06  rain  followed  the  explosion  within 
eight  minutes.     No  rain  followed  after  the  explosion  at  3:44. 

"  He  thinks  that  the  experiments  succeeded  in  causing  the  rain 
by  the  explosions,  but  he  says  it  is  not  possible  to  demonstrate  the 
actual  effect  of  the  explosions  upon  the  atmosphere  sufficient  to 
produce  the  rain.  He  believes  that  it  will  be  possible  to  secure 
rain  by  artificial  means. 

**  Maj.  Dunwoody  of  the  weather  bureau  holds  an  entirely  differ- 
ent opinion.  He  thinks  that  the  rain  had  no  possible  connection 
with  the  explosions.  It  was  raining  at  the  time  over  an  area  of 
territory  2,000  miles  long  and  500  hundred  miles  wide  ,  rain  had 
been  forecast  for  this  section,  and  what  little  precipitation  there 
was  came  naturally  and  not  by  artificial  means.  Maj.  Dunwoody 
is  of  opinion  that  the  experiments  will  result  only  in  a  waste  of 
money  and  time.'' 

Now  I  am  precisely  of  Maj.  Dunwoody's  opinion  as  regards  the 
waste  of  money  and  time,  but  on  somewhat  different  grounds.  I 
am  inclined  to  think  with  Gen.  Dyrenforth,  that  rain  can  be  manu- 
factured by  human  explosions  of  the  various  chemicals  now  known 
to  science  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  many  of  the  rainfalls 
following  so  close  upon  the  heels  of  great  battles  have  been  pro- 
duced by  the  smoke  of  battle,  but  I  have  no  idea  that  sufficient 


832  T^E  GLOBE. 

qaantities  of  rain  can  be  produced  in  the  human  way  to  make  the 

experiments  pay,  or  even  to  make  them  respectable  in  the  eyes  of 

thinking  men. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  in  my  mind,  we  have,  in  the  electric  light, 

come  nearer  to  heaven's  way  of  lighting  the  universe  by  sun  and 

stars  than  we  ever  came  before  ; .  but  I  fancy  Mr.  Edison  knows 

enough  of  the  exhaustive  wear  and  tear  of  the  electric  method  not 

to  propose  a  general  lighting  even  of  the  earth  o'  dark  nights  by 

means  of  electricity. 

''  Our  little  systems  have  their  day. 
They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be." 

A  few  years  ago  it  was  the  flint  and  file  ;  then  matches  and 
candles  ;  then  gas ;  then  natural  gas.  Now  it  is  electricity,  and 
just  as  we  are  well  on  with  our  Babel  of  electric-lighting  of  the 
world  some  chap  will  set  a  match  at  the  wrong  burner  or 
turn  the  wrong  button — and  a-way  will  go  our  methods  of  elec- 
tricity, carrying  so  many  of  us  with  it  that  the  man  next  proposing 
electric-lighting  will  be  lynched  as  a  universal  murderer  with  mal- 
ice aforethought. 

So  I  fancy  that  could  we  make  rain  enough  by  human  explosions, 
the  next  thing  there  would  be  a  patent  on  the  manufacture,  pro- 
tected, of  course,  by  the  highest  kind  of  a  tariff — that  is.  if  the 
Republicans  again  get  into  power — and  soon  the  manufacture 
would  be  so  tremendous  that  ove-rproduction  of  rain  would  bring 
on  another  deluge,  broad  and  deep  enough  to  drown  even  Robert 
Ingersoll. 

Really  I  found  myself  interested  in  this  subject  more  because 
Gen.  Dyrenforth  showed  me  evidence  that  in  one  of  the  latest 
volumes  of  Appleton's  Cyclopedia  he  had  been  unfairly  treated  by 
an  ignorant  hand,  and  because  I  desired  in  this  way  to  call  atten- 
tion to  much  of  the  shoddy  work  of  modern  standard  literature, 
than  because  I  had  or  have  any  special  interest  in  the  success  or 
failure  of  the  rain-makers. 

I  have  lived  for  over  fifty  years,  and  in  various  parts  of  the 
world,  along  the  line  of  northern  civilization  from  southern  Eng- 
land to  the  plains  of  South  Dakota,  and  I  never  remember  a  sea- 
son when  there  was  not  rain  enough  for  all  practical  purposes. 
Furthermore,  my  experience  with  farmers  and  other  people  regard- 
ing the  weather  has  often  taught  me  to  think  and  say  that  were  I 
the  Almighty,  I  would  dry  out  whole  neighborhoods  of  farmers. 


HUXLEY  ON   CONTROVERTED   QUESTIONS.  888 

simply  for  their  godless  ingratitude  for  rain  and  other  blessings 
of  heaven;  and  that,  in  other  cases,  I  would  drown  out  whole  na- 
tions of  men  by  reason  of  their  atheism  and  treason  to  all  that  is 
worth  having,  rain  or  no  rain.  But  the  Almighty  is  patient  and 
kind,  spite  of  such  clown-blasphemers  as  Colonel  Ingersoll. 

In  a  word,  I  really  think  that  a  little  more  true  piety  and  a  little 
more  common-sense  in  the  way  of  tree  planting  and  general  horti- 
cultural observances,  would  be  an  infinitely  more  sensible 
investment  for  this  nation  to  make  than  to  be  wasting  money  on 
the  explosive  theory  of  producing  rain. 

That  the  boys  can  do  it,  I  have  little  or  no  doubt ;  that  they 
can  do  it  long  and  broad  enough,  I  have  a  great  deal  of  doubt, 
and  that  could  they  do  it,  they  would  over-do  it,  I  feel  pretty 
sure.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


HUXLEY  ON  CONTROVERTED  QUESTIONS. 


Mr.  Huxley  has  at  various  times  favored  the  world  with  articles 
treating  questions  of  Religion  and  Science. 

Skilled  scientist  that  he  is,  and  master  in  the  use  of  language, 
his  essays  have  ever  attracted  the  attention  of  thinking  men,  and 
hence  the  welcome  accorded  to  his  latest  volume,(^ome  Controverted 
Questions,  Appleton  &  Co.,  1892),  comprising  the  controversial 
papers  contributed  by  him  to  the  magazines  since  1885.  The 
importance  of  this  republication  is  greatly  enhanced  by  a  prologue, 
telling  us  why  the  papers  were  written  and  giving  us  the  platform 
of  the  Agnostic  party,  by  one  who  is  its  apostle.  In  the  prologue 
Mr.  Huxley  maps  out  what  he  conceives  to  be  the  genesis  of  the 
belief  in  the  Natural  and  the  Supernatural,  (p.  2)  shows  how  an 
antagonism  has  sprung  up  between  them ;  (3)  the  effect  of  this 
dualism  upon  the  human  race  (ibid)  and  claims  an  inverse  relation 
between  the  knowledge  of  the  natural  and  the  supernatural,  assert- 
ing that  as  one  increases  in  accuracy  and  breadth,  the  other  neces- 
sarily diminishes  until  the  "controverted  question  of  the  time"  is, 
how  far  this  elimination  is  to  go?  (5)  The  ground  for  this  elimination 
he  places,  primarily,  in  the  fact  that  the  adherents  of  the  super- 
natural are  divided  among  themselves  as  to  a  criterion,  and  the 


884  TEE  GLOBE. 

worth  of  that  criterion  in  questions  of  the  supernatural.  We  are 
then  told  of  the  various  attempts  made  by  believers  in  the  super- 
natural to  establish  a  **  modus  vivendi,  "  all  of  which  have  proved 
abortive,  the  result  being  a  strong  current  towards  naturalism 
arising  from  an  uneasy  sense  of  the  weakness  of  "  Biblical 
Infallibility  ;"  (6-22)  and  all  this  ending  in  the  prophecy  that 
**  though  extant  forms  of  supernaturalism  have  deep  roots  in 
human  nature  and  will  undoubtedly  die  hard,  still  they  have  to 
cope  in  these  latter  days  with  an  enemy  whose  strength  is  just 
beginning  to  be  put  forth,  and  who,  hemming  them  in  on  all  sides, 
is  occupying  the  field  hitherto  held  by  the  supernatural.  (22) 

Having  thus  narrated  the  relation  between  Science  and  Relig- 
ion and  the  inherent  weakness  of  the  latter,  by  some  of  its  insuffi- 
cient grounds  for  belief,  he  proceeds  to  tell  us  the  aim  of  Science 
in  the  conflict :  It  is, 

(a)     The  rejection  of  all  that  can  not  be  proven. 

{h)  The  building  up  of  a  scientific  system  to  which  all  knowl- 
edge, theological  as  well  as  philosophical  or  scientific,  will  have  to 
conform  ;  and  then  comes  the  enumeration  of  twelve  theses  that, 
in  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Huxley,  wil  form  the  basis  of  this  system. 

This  seems  to  be  a  fair  resume  of  the  first  essay  in  Mr.  Huxley's 
book;  and  now,  although  unversed  in  the  scientific  lore  of  Palaeon- 
tology or  Embryology,  although  but  tyros  in  the  study  of  the 
supernatural,  what  are  we  to  think  of  these  essays  as  outlined 
in  the  prologue  ? 

To  answer  this  question  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  mind  the 
purpose  for  which  the  book  was  written,  namely,  to  show  the 
existence  of  a  conflict  between  science  and  religion,  between 
natural  and  supernatural,  and  to  show  how  the  former  is  grad- 
ually encroaching  on  the  domain  of  the  latter  and  driving  it  from 
its  wide  hold  on  men's  minds.  This  premised,  it  is  necessary  that 
we  get  clear  and  correct  notions  of  the  two  factors  in  the  conflict, 
that  we  understand  clearly  what  is  meant  by  natural  and  super- 
natural. 

The  natural,  according  to  our  author  (p.  2),  is  the  name  given 
by  man  to  **^that  region  of  familiar  steadiness  and  customary  reg- 
ularity that  is  back  of  the  shifting  scenes  of  the  world's  stage  ;  " 
while  the  supernatural  was  the  term  applied  by  mankind  to  "  the 
intangible  world,  filled  with  powerful  entities  which  their  untu- 
tored reason  led  them  to  believe  surrounded  this  orderly  world," 
(p.  3). 


HUXLEY  ON  CONTROVERTED   QUESTIONS.  685 

Granting  that  Mr.  Huxley's  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the  idea 
of  the  supernatural  is  correct,  although  he  himself  gives  us  grounds 
(page  34-9)  for  saying  **  Not  proved,"  still,  we  are  forced  to  take 
exception  to  his  definition  of  the  supernatural.  He  tells  as 
clearly  enough  what  it  was  that  the  early  races  called  supernatural, 
viz.:  "  that  intangible  and  mysterious  world  peopled  by  entities  of 
unlimited  powers,  which  their  imagination  and  untutored  reason 
led  them  to  believe  surrounded  this  world;  "but  having  told  us  this 
much  he  fails  to  tell  us  what  he  himself  understands  by  the  super- 
natural !  Does  he  mean  by  that,  the  same  "  mysterious,  dim, 
dreadful,  vague  region"  that  the  ancients  meant  thereby,  or  does 
he  use  it  in  the  sense  that  Christian  men  of  to-day  use  it?  On  this 
depends,  to  a  great  extent,  the  right  judgment  of  Mr.  Huxley's  es- 
says, and,  therefore,  since  he  does  not  tell  us  directly  what  he 
means,  we  must  try  and  glean  from  other  sources  a  definition  that 
will  express  the  idea  that  Mr.  Huxley  wishes  to  convey  when  he 
uses  the  word  supernatural. 

On  page  5  he  says:  "  Historically,  indeed,  there  would  seem  to  be 
an  inverse  relation  between  supernatural  and  natural  knowledge." 

Again:  ''Progress  of  humanity  is  being  accompanied  by  a 
co-ordinate  elimination  of  the  supernatural  from  men's  minds." 

And  on  page  22  science  has  extended  its  system  of  investigation  to 
every  region  in  which  the  supernatural  had  hitherto  been  recog- 
nized. Thus  we  find  Mr.  Huxley  telling  us  of  a  world  of  nescience 
into  which  science  is  ever  making  inroads,  but  much  of  which  is 
still  unknown.  At  the  same  time  he  makes  a  turn  and  seems  to 
make  this  world  of  nescience  the  field  of  religion,  for  every 
victory  scored  by  science  over  the  mysteries  of  matter  and  the 
physical  world  is  made  to  count  one  for  natural  over  supernatural, 
science  over  religion. 

Judging  from  these  indirect  notions,  we  feel  we  are  not  far 
from  correct  when  we  say  that  Mr.  Huxley's  idea  of  the  supernatural 
is  much  akin  to  that  of  Spencer  where  he  says,  "  Science  and  re- 
ligion express  opposite  sides  of  the  same  thing.  The  one  its  near  and 
visible  side,  the  other  its  remote  and  invisible."  (Spencer's  "  First 
Principles".)  Now,  if  Mr.  Huxley  means  by  the  supernatural  the 
unexplored,  unknown  parts  of  the  universe,  we  can  grant  him  all 
he  says  about  the  conflict  between  natural  and  supernatural,  about 
the  victories  of  the  one  over  the  other;  but  why,  in  the  name  of  truth 
and  honesty,  does  he  not  tell  us  that  this  is  what  he  means,  for 


886  THS  GLOBE. 

surely  he  knows  that  this  is  not  the  common  meaning  given  to  the 
term.  Men  from  tlie  beginning  have  believed  in  a  supernatural, 
have  been  adherents  of  religion.  Go  tell  men  that  the  supernatural 
is  but  the  unknown  natural,  religion  but  the  truths  as  yet  unhar- 
nessed to  the  chariot  of  science,  and  see  if  the  definition  of  the 
Spencers  and  Huxleys  will  stand  in  their  verdict. 

No,  the  supernatural  and  religion  are  not  made  up  of  what  is 
beyond  experience,  they  are  not  the  product  of  imagination  and 
ignorance,  but  a  reality  as  true  as  the  commonest  reality,  a  reality 
beyond  the  world  of  sense,  it  is  true,  but  one  that  is  made  manifest 
by  the  eye  of  reason.  With  reason  as  our  guide  we  look  upon 
nature,  take  in  at  a  glance  the  truth  made  known  by  science  con- 
cerning its  movements,  laws  and  constitution  ;  we  see  dimly,  yet 
clearly,  the  vague  and  unknown  region  yet  to  be  explored,  and  we 
place  it  all  at  the  feet  of  science;  the  known  as  a  trophy  of  victories 
gained,  the  unknown  as  a  field  for  future  conquest,  but  reason  is 
not  satisfied.  With  science  she  studies  nature,  but  the  voice  of 
science  is  dumb  when  asked  of  nature's  birth,  or  the  origin  of 
nature^s  laws,  and  without  this  answer  reason  cannot  rest.  She 
seeks  an  answer  for  herself,  and  seeking,  steps  beyond  the  natural 
and  finds  it  in  the  existence  of  a  supernatural  where  dwells  the 
one  only  adaquate  cause  for  the  existence  and  government  of  the 
natural  world.  To  this  new  field  science  cannot  soar.  Reason 
alone  can  know  of  its  existence,  and  entering,  finds  herself  under 
the  tutorship  of  religion. 

Thus  we  see  in  the  natural  and  supernatural,  in  science  and 
religion,  not  the  two  sides  of  the  one  reality,  but  two  separate  real- 
ities, each  having  its  proper  sphere,  each  depending  upon  each,  the 
one  for  its  very  existence,  the  other  for  its  cognition  by  man;  the 
one  telling  us  of  all  the  laws  and  truths  of  nature,  the  other  sup- 
plementing its  farthest  dicta,  and  telling  us  whence  nature  came 
and  who  it  is  that  impressed  upon  it  its  form  and  laws.  Where 
nature  ends  the  supernatural  begins  ;  where  science  acknowledges 
its  limit,  Religion  takes  up  the  thread  and  satisfies  reason  by 
answering  the  ultimate  questions  Whence  and  Whither. 

Under  this  new  light  as  to  the  meaning  of  natural  and  super- 
natural, the  relations  of  these  two  appear  far  different  from  Mr. 
Huxley's  view.  There  is  no  longer  manifest  a  conflict  between 
them,  but  on  the  contrary,  harmony  and  interdependence ;  and 
man,  in  whom  the  natural  and  supernatural  meet,  can  no  longer 


HUXLEY  ON  CONTROVERTED   QUESTIONS.  337 

be  mirrored  as  prospering  when  attending  exclusively  to  the  one 
and  retrograding  when  paying  attention  to  the  other.  From  the 
very  nature  of  things,  man  can  be  prosperous  and  happy  only  when 
duly  attentive  to  both.  Man  is  not  perfect  until  the  whole  of  his 
being  is  developed,  and  this  is  accomplished  by  following  the  dic- 
tates of  science  wherein  he  hears  the  language  of  nature  and  the 
dictates  of  religion  wherein  the  voice  of  the  supernatural  is 
revealed  to  him.  To  this  truth  history  stands  sponsor.  Where 
religion  and  science  stood  hand  in  hand  there  prosperity  reigned 
and  civilization  spread  her  sheltering  aegis  over  a  happy  and  con- 
tented people;  where  religion  was  not  present  to  temper  the 
human  passions,  greed,  selfishness  and  hardness  of  heart  have  ever 
sapped  the  life-blood  of  nations,  telling  their  story  in  the  fall  of 
ancient  Rome, — while  religion  without  science,  attention  to 
supernatural  without  regard  for  the  natural  if  it  ever  did  exist, 
could  but  lead  to  mysticism,  to  degeneration  and  decay. 

Knowing  this  intimate  connection  between  science  and  religion, 
it  is  with  sorrow  that  we  learn  from  Mr.  Huxley  that  the  super- 
natural is  fast  losing  its  hold  on  men's  minds  ;  and  we  can  but 
regret  that  dissension  among  believers  in  the  supernatural  which 
causes  such  a  defection,  and  also  the  weakness  in  the  systems  that 
league  scientists  against  religion. 

But  what  are  we  to  think  of  this  weakness  as  the  cause  9f  the 
upheaval  of  the  supernatural?  Let  Mr.  Mallock,  who  is  a  disci- 
ple of  Huxley's  own  school,  explain  the  situation.  In  his  little 
book,  "Is  Life  Worth  Living  ?"  he  has  two  chapters — "Morality 
and  Natural  Theism,"  ''The  Human  Race  and  Revelation" — 
wherein  the  state  of  the  question  is  fairly  stated.  He,  like  Hux- 
ley, throws  doubts  upon  the  proofs  of  natural  theism,  although 
admitting  (p.  272)  that  the  necessity  of  a  natural  theism  for  man's 
moral  being  is  a  truth  more  or  less  rigidly  demonstrated,  but  pass- 
ing for  the  time  his  doubts  as  to  natural  theism,  he  asks  if  that 
alone  would  be  sufficient  for  the  guiding  of  mankind,  and 
answers :  "  For  most  men  it  would  be  but  an  alluring  voice,  heard, 
far  off  through  the  fog,  calling  to  them  'Follow  me,'  but  leaving 
them  to  pick  their  way  over  rocks  and  streams  and  pitfalls"  (273)  ; 
and  hence  concludes  the  moral  necessity  of  revelation — of  an 
infallible  guide  to  lead  men  along  the  path  of  truth  (274).  At 
this  point  (275)  he  takes  up  a  thread  of  argument  similar  to  that 
of  Huxley  (pp.  5-22),  an  analysis  of  the  claims  of  the  different 


888  TB^  GLOBE. 

systems,  and  concludes  that  this  guide  can  not  be  found  in  any 

of  the  systems  included  under  the  head  of  Protestant  Christianity 

(274-283) :  '*  The  lips  once  oracular  are  become  dumb,  and  although 

men  are  crying,  as  of  old,  'What  shall   we  do  to  be  saved?'  we 

hear  no  answer  save  the  murmuring  echo,  Alas  !  what  shall  you 

do?'*  And,  owing  to  its  failure,  Mr.  H.  is  right    when   he   says 

that  men  are  drifting  away  ;  but  even  though  drifting,  they  still 

cling  fondly  to  the  hope  of  a  supernatural — they  are  seeking  for 

some  new  ground  whereon  to  rest  that  hope. 

They  are, — 

"Like  infants  crying  in  the  night, 
Like  infants  crying  for  the  light 
And  with  no  language  but  aery." 

What  hopes  then,  can  we  entertain  for  the  future  of  the  super- 
natural ?     Mr.  Mallock  gives  us  clearly  the  ground  for  a  new  hope, 
''Protestantism  dismissed/'  he  says  p.  283  "it  may  seem  to  many 
that  I  have  dismissed  the  whole  question."   With  the  "enlightened" 
English  thinker  such  certainly  will  be  the  first  impression.     But 
there  is  one  point  such  thinkers  all   forget  :     Protestant  Christi- 
anity is  not  the  only  form  of  it.    They  have  still  the  form  to  deal  with 
which  is  the  oldest,  the  most  legitimate,  and  the  most  coherent — the 
Church   of    Rome,    Yea,  even    as   Mr.   Mallock    says,    there    is 
another  voice  calling  in  the  wilderness,  a  beacon  light  set  amidst 
the  breakers  and  rocks,  a  guide  that  is  not  dumb  when  appealed  to 
by  struggling  doubting  humanity,  for  she  has  been  sent  as  the  way, 
the  truth  and  the  life  and  she  is  true  to  her  mission.     Mr.  Huxley 
forgets  this  ;  '*  Biblical  Infallibility  "  disposed  of,  Christianity  is 
thrown  aside.  Alas  how  true  the  wheat  is  garnered,  hidden  from 
view  while  the  chafE  is  scattered  broadcast  by  the  winds.     Science 
in  her  growing  strength  may  bring  disruption  and  dismay  among 
the  adherents  to  the  false  in  the  supernatural,  may  overthrow  the 
systems  whose  foundations  are  unsound,  but  until  she  has  crum- 
bled the  Church  of  Rome,  the  supernatural,  is  still  a  mighty  divine 
champion.    Against  her  foundations  scientists  can  make  no  head- 
way; true  science  will  make  no  assault,  for  her  foundations  are  built 
on  truth,and  new  truths  whether  discovered  by  science  or  revealed  by 
religion  can  but  form  a  bulwark  round  about  them,  and  hence  to 
Mr.  Huxley's  prophecy  we   feel  confident  that  time's  answer  will 
be,  that  the  present  shifting  iu  men's  beliefs  is  but  the  first  move- 
ment in  a  change  wherein  the  last  will  be  the  placing  of  the  alle- 
giance now  withdrawn  from  an  unsound  teacher,  at  the  feet  of 


HVXLET  ON  CONTROVERTED   QUESTIONS.  889 

one  who  though  ancient  is  ever  new  and  finds  in  the  discoveries 
of  science  nothing  to  disturb  her,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  strength- 
ening of  her  claims,  new  jewels  that  add  luster  to  her  crown. 

This  is  the  hope  of  the  Catholic  Church,  a  hope  not  without 
cheering  prospects,  for  men  are  turning  to  her  amidst  the  strug- 
gles that  encompass  the  questions  of  to-day.  They  cannot  fail  to 
hear  her  voice  inviting  them  to  examine  her  commission,  her  claims 
that  in  her  teaching  can  be  found  solutions  for  the  social  problems, 
her  assurance  that  science,  no  matter  what  its  field,  will  never  score 
a  point  that  can  endanger  her  safety,  for  truth  once  firmly  placed 
can  never  be  dislodged.  Thus  she  stands  before  men's  eyes,  they 
feel  that  she  can  satisfy  their  longing,  but  still  in  the  haze  of 
doubt  they  pray  with  that  weary  and  homesick  traveler  in  the 
dim  lighted  chapel  at  Rome: 

"  O,  that  thy  creed  were  sound, 
For  thou  dost  soothe  the  heart,  thou  Church  of  Rome." 

This  being  the  stand  and  hope  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  regard 
to  the  future  of  supernaturalism,  it  certainly  behooves  us  to  extend 
a  hand  of  fellowship  to  Mr.  Huxley  and  his  brethren  in  their 
endeavors  on  behalf  of  science.  They  desire,  as  stated  in  the 
resume, 

(a)  "To  take  nothing  for  granted  that  cannot  be  proven." 
To  this  no  scientist  can  give  a  heartier  Amen  than  the  Cath- 
olic Church.  She  claims  allegiance  only  through  the  intellect, 
she  claims  suffrage  and  the  right  to  respect  from  the  hands  of 
scientists  on  no  other  plea  than  that  her  system  is  as  complete  and 
as  logical  as  that  of  any  science.  History,  analogy,  induction, 
reason,  all  have  place  in  her  proofs,  and  it  is  only  when  her  truths 
are  once  firmly  proven,  when  she  has  committed  herself  to  their 
defense  against  all  attacks  that  she  says  to  science ;  "  This  is  a 
truth  and  as  such  none  of  your  discoveries  can  militate  against  it." 
Step  by  step  she  leads  the  intellect  from  acknowledgment  of  God's 
existence  to  the  demonstration  of  her  own  Divine  mission  ;  and  it 
is  only  when  the  mind  of  man  gives  assent  to  this  last  doctrine 
that  her  language  changes  from  *' Know  thou  "  to  **  Dost  thou 
believe?  "  It  is  then,  and  then  only,  that  reason  gives  way  to  faith 
and  hence  no  reason  can  be  assigned  for  the  denying  by  Mr.  Hux- 
ley and  many  of  his  confreres  (p.  27)  of  the  validity  of  the  reasons 
adduced  in  favor  of  the  supernatural,  unless  it  be  as  Mr.  Mallock 
says — ''They  do  not  know,  they  do  not  care  to  know,  the  teaching 
of  the  Catholic  Church." 


340  THE  GLOBE. 

(J)  "  Scientists  would  build  up  a  system  of  truths  to  which  all 
knowledge  would  have  to  conform/'  No  truer  friend  or  helper 
could  science  find  in  this  arduous  task  than  religion  and  the 
Catholic  Church.  She  would  be  the  helper  to  polish  the  new- 
found jewels  and  place  them  one  by  one  in  the  edifice  they  would 
build;  the  guardian  watching  with  jealous  eye  to  see  that  no  blem- 
ished stone,  seared  by  the  touch  of  falsity,  could  enter  there;  the 
master-builder  putting  the  finishing  strokes  upon  that  home  of 
truth,  crowning  the  truths  revealed  by  nature,  with  the  truths 
revealed  by  God.  But  no!  The  scientists  of  to-day  will  not  accept 
her  friendship;  cannot  understand  her;  they  are  jealous  of  her, 
and  unable  to  dislodge,  they  ignore  her.  Hence,  when  in  their 
efforts  to  frame  a  "Synthetic  Philosophy"  they  are  forced  to  choose 
between  truths  that,  followed  to  their  legitimate  conclusion,  would 
"lead  to  Kome,"  and  the  nearest  hypothesis,  nay,  even  the  vaguest 
hopes  and  chimeras,  they  unhesitatingly  choose  the  latter.  This 
accounts  for  some  of  the  theses  that  Mr.  Huxley  places  in  the 
foundation  of  his  system  in  thesis  fourth,  speculating  on  the 
fact  of  sensation: 

''  There  must  have  been  a  time  in  which  feeling  dawned  in 
consequence  of  the  organism  having  reached  the  stage  of  develop- 
ment on  which  it  depends.'' 

In  thesis  fifth  and  sixth,  he  philosophises  on  the  development 
of  sensation  into  the  power  of  distinguishing  pleasure  and  pain, 
and  concludes: 

"The  primordial  anthropoid  was,  probably,  on  much  the  same 
footing  as  his  pithecoid  kin.  Like  them  he  stood  upon  his  'nat- 
ural rights,'  gratified  all  his  desire  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and 
was  as  incapable  of  either  right  or  wrong  doing  as  they.  It  would 
be  as  absurd  as  in  their  case  to  regard  his  pleasures  any  more  than 
theirs,  as  moral  rewards,  and  his  pains,  any  more  than  theirs,  as 
moral  punishments." 

In  thesis  eighth — "  I  think  it  a  conclusion  fully  justified  by 
analogy  that,  sooner  or  later,  we  shall  discover  the  remains  of  our 
less  specialized  ancestors  in  the  strata  which  have  yielded  the  less 
specialized  equine  and  canine  quadrupeds." 

In  thesis  tenth,  *'It  is  a  reasonable  supposition  that,  in  the 
earliest  human  organisms,  an  improved  brain,  a  voice  more  capa- 
ble of  modulation,  limbs  which  lent  themselves  better  to  gesture, 
a   more    perfect    hand,    were  combined   with   the    curiosity,  the 


nUXLET  ON  CONTROVERTED   QUESTIONS.  841 

mimetic  tendency,  the  strong  family  affection  of  the  next  lower 
group.  *  *  *  The  potentiality  of  language,  as  the  vocal 
symbol  of  thought,  lay  in  the  faculty  of  modulating  and  articulat- 
ing the  voice.  The  potentiality  of  writing  lay  in  the  hand  that 
could  draw  and  in  the  mimetic  tendency.  With  speech  as  a  record 
in  tradition  of  the  experience  of  more  than  one  generation;  with 
writing  as  the  record  of  any  number  of  generations  ;  the  experi- 
ence of  the  race,  tested  and  corrected  generation  after  generation 
was  stored  up  and  made  the  starting  point  for  fresh  progress. 
Having  these  perfectly  natural  factors  of  the  evolutionary  process 
in  man  before  us,  it  seems  unnecessary  to  go  further  afield  in  search 
of  others." 

In  theses  eleven  and  twelve,  he  speculates  on  the  origin  of 
society  and  the  evolution  of  morality,  telling  us  that  society  is  the 
result  of  experience  and  morality  the  outcome  of  society. 

This  much  to  give  us  an  idea  of  the  last  resorts  of  men  who 
will  not  admit  religion.  Dubois  Reymond,  ten  years  ago,  said 
there  were  seven  riddles  that  science  at  that  time  could  not 
answer. 

These  riddles  still  exist.  Mr.  Huxley  slurs  some  of  them,  as 
the  origin  of  that  very  nature  that  is  the  subject  matter  of  science, 
the  origin  of  life  and  motion  :  others,  such  as  the  origin  of  the 
human  species,  development  of  human  reason  he  would  account 
for  by  a  simple  **  I  think  it  a  conclusion  fully  justified,"  or  "  it 
is  a  reasonable  supposition."  But  enough — we  would  be  at  a  loss 
to  understand  how  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Huxley,  one  who  is  such  a 
strong  advocate  of  positive  science,  would  base  his  hopes  for  a  new 
philosophy  on  such  a  foundation  were  it  not  that  he  tells  us  (p.  37)  • 
**  I  am  tolerably  confident  that  time  will  prove  these  theses  to  be 
substantially  correct."  And  if  they  are  so,  I  confess  I  do  not  see 
how  any  extant  supernaturalistic  system  can  also  claim  exactness. 
The  introduction  of  his  system  excludes  not  only  dogma  but  even 
the  faintest  forms  of  Deism.  This  is  what  Mr.  Huxley  is  aiming 
at — this  the  ambition  that  prompted  him  to  formulate  his  theses. 
He  would  make  nature  the  sum  total  of  all  that  is,  and,  having 
banished  God,  he  would  now  strive  to  build  a  system  that  finds  in 
nature  the  alpha  and  omega  of  all  knowledge.  So  far,  he  and  all 
scientists  like  him,  have  failed;  failed  because  they  take  away  the 
foundation  on  which  all  science  must  rest;  failed  on  another  ground 
«ven  wider  in  its  importance,  the  ground  of  human  nature. 


342  TTIE  GLOBE. 

True,  Mr.  Huxley  repudiates  any  concession  to  human  senti- 
ment or  feeling;  "  but  man's  a  man,  for  a  '  that,"  and  while  he 
is  he  will  look  for  something  outside  of  agnosticism.  Mr.  Frederic 
Harrison,  who  in  his  process  of  evolution  has  passed  through  the 
stage  of  agnosticism  and  is  now  a  positivist,  tells  us  in  a  recent 
article  **  what  a  limited  field  tliis  Huxleyan  Agnosticism  covers; 
how  essentially  negatire,  jejune  and  provisional  a  resting  place  it 
is  in  the  field  covered  by  the  eternal  problems  of  religion, 
philosophy,  morality,  and  psychology.  All  classes  are  ever  crying 
out :  What  is  the  relation  of  man  to  the  Author  of  the  world  ?  Is 
there  a  supreme  poAver?  Have  I  an  immortal  soul  ?  "Will  our 
good  or  bad  done  in  the  flesh  be  counted  to  any  of  us  beyond  the 
earthly  life?" 

These  questions  are  being  asked  in  public  and  secret,  hour  by  liour 
by  our  fellow  beings,  often  with  tears  and  groans,  and  agonies  of 
hope,  fear  and  yearning.  And  the  one  answer  of  the  Agnostic  is  "  I 
have  no  evidence  on  the  subject,  and  I  believe  nothing  on  which  I 
have  no  evidence."  This  is  not  wide  enough  for  a  teacher  in  Israel. 
*'  A  man  who  sweeps  away  all  that  is  so  dear  to  millions  is  expected 
to  supply  something  positive  to  build,  as  well  as  something  negative 
to  destroy.  The  great  issue  now  is,  What  is  to  be  our  creed?  AVhat 
is  the  philosophy  of  religion?  What  is  religion  to  be?  and  Mr. 
Huxley's  ans^ver  is  to  all  this  simply.  Go  to,  I  am  an  Agnostic  ;  I 
tell  you,  I  know  nothing!  That  cannot  satisfy  the  body  of  man- 
kind. This  is  Mr.  Harrison's  trenchant  criticism  of  the  failure  of 
Huxleyan  Agnosticism;  but  Mr.  Harrison's  verdict  of  Agnosticism  is 
the  world's  verdict  concerning  Positivism.  He  would  make 
humanity  our  God;  religion  the  working  for  the  greatest  good  of 
the  greatest  number  ;  and  would  give  us  as  our  hope  the  future 
betterment  of  the  race,  a  hope  expressed  in  the  pathetic  lines  of 
Oliv  Schreiner  :  ''  For  long  years  I  have  labored,  I  have  not  rested, 
I  have  not  repined  ;  now  my  strength  is  gone.  Where  I  lie  down 
worn  out,  other  men  will  stand  young  and  fresh.  By  the  steps 
that  I  have  cut  they  will  climb  ;  by  the  stairs  that  I  have  built  they 
will  mount.  They  will  not  know  me,  but  by  me  they  will  mount, 
and  on  my  work  they  will  climb,  and  by  my  stair  !  Our  misi^ion  is 
as  the  locusts — hare  you  ever  seen  them  cross  a  stream?  First  one 
comes  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  it  is  swept  away,  and  then 
another  comes  and  then  another,  and  then  another,  and  then  at  last 
with  their  bodies  piled  up  a  bridge  is  built  and  the  rest  pass  over. 


EQAN'S  SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  848 

Oh,  cold  and  heartless  creeds !  well  may  we  ask :  If  you  were  all, 
is  life  here  worth  the  living  ? 

"  Why  should  we  bear  with  an  hour  of  torture,  a  moment  of  pain. 
If  every  man  die  forever,  if  all  his  griefs  are  in  vain, 
And  the  homeless  planet  at  length  will  be  wheeled  through  the  silence 

of  space, 
Motherless  evermore  of  an  ever-van  shing  race?" 

Thomas  Whalbn. 


EGAN'S  SONGS  AND  SONNETS. 


Songs  and  Sonnets  and  Other  Poems  by  Maurice  Francis 

Egan.    a.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  Chicago,  1892. 

Nearly  ten  years  ago  there  came  to  my  literary  desk  in  Phila- 
delphia a  very  dainty  little  volume  of  poems,  the  product  of  two 
young  men  who  had  thus  united  their  energies  to  catch  the  refined 
ear  and  taste  of  the  world. 

The  volume  bore  the  imprint  of  a  London  publishing  house, 
and  on  the  face  of  it  looked  more  unique,  thoughtful  and  tasteful 
than  the  average  volumes  of  amateur  poems  that  often  came  to  me 
for  review.  Still  it  had  to  bide  its  time,  and  wait  the  moment 
when,  free  from  more  serious  work,  I  could  find  inclination 
and  a  spare  half  hour  to  get  into  the  spirit  of  it  and  say  the  best 
word  possible  in  favor  of  the  new  poetic  aspirants  for  fame.  Fi- 
nally the  hour  came,  and  I  distinctly  remember  that  the  work,  which 
at  that  time  impressed  me  most  deeply  and  favorably,  was  that 
of  Maurice  Francis  Egan,  now  the  honored  professor  of  Literature 
in  the  University  of  Notre  Dame,  Indiana,  and  author  of  a  larger, 
more  mature,  a  select  and  very  winning  volume  of  poems,  the  sub- 
ject of  this  review. 

Maurice  Francis  Egan  is  not  yet  the  full-orbed  and  full-toned 
poet  that  I  think  he  will  be  and  may  be  in  the  near  future,  pro- 
vided he  yields  his  whole  soul  with  utter  abandon  to  the  deeper  and 
sweeter  voices  constantly  whispering  in  his  sensitive  ears.  Indeed, 
the  present  volume,  though  far  more  mature  than  the  earlier  pro- 
duction, and  having  every  way  a  broader  scope  and  a  firmer  touch, 
has,  in  some  phases  of  it,  the  air  and  taste  of  amateur  poetry.  It 
is  chaste  and  pure  and  original,  and  for  tliese  reasons  I  have  thought 


844  THE  GLOBE. 

it  worthy  of  unusual  notice  in  these  pages.  It  is  also  musical,  but 
not  perfectly  musical ;  not  musical  in  the  sense  that  the  author 
has,  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability,  mastered  the  laws  of  poetic  har- 
mony, hence  its  lack  of  perfect  effect  and  perfect  power. 

There  is  a  feeling  in  reading  it  that  under  other  circumstances, 
perhaps  under  a  more  perfect  consecration  to  the  art  of  poetry; 
perhaps  after  more  and  profounder,  sadder  and  deeper  experiences 
of  life,  the  soul,  saturated  with  light  and  armed  with  its  mastery, 
might  and  yet  may  write  poems  compared  with  which  even  the 
beautiful  Songs  and  Sonnets  of  this  volume,  though  sweet  and 
lovely,  will  read  only  as  the  pretty  preludes  to  that  fuller,  richer 
burst  of  world-song  which  this  man  even  now  seems  capable  of. 

I  intend  to  quote  largely  from  the  new  book  so  that  readers  of 
The  Globe  may  judge  for  themselves,  get  a  craving  for  the  whole 
volume,  and  order  it  from  the  publishers  without  delay. 

This  little  poem  which  leads  the  volume,  though  not  the  most 
beautiful,  is,  in  many  points,  most  characteristic  of  its  author  and 
so  shall  lead  our  quotations: 

THE  OLD  VIOLIN. 
Though  tuneless,  stringless,  it  lies  there  in  dust, 

Like  some  great  thought  on  a  forgotten  page  ; 
The  soul  of  music  cannot  fade  or  rust — 

The  voice  within  it  stronger  grows  with  age  ; 
Its  strings  and  bow  are  only  trifling  things — 

A  master-touch  ! — its  sweet  soul  wakes  and  sings. 

In  this  we  have  the  thoughtfulness,  the  daintiness,  the  refine- 
ment, the  timidity  ;  that  is,  lack  of  full  and  conscious  power  of 
utterance,  and  yet  all  the  possibility  of  the  author.  "  The  soul  of 
music  "  has  touched  this  hand,  but  has  not  full  control  of  the  free 
and  masterful  utterance  that  it  claims.  It  is  genius,  but  as  yet 
genius  in  the  silken  chains  of  mental  sentimentality.  It  needs 
liberty  and  a  thousand  lightning  flashes  to  give  it  proper  and 
deserved  cutting  and  inspiring  power. 

**  The  Shamrock**  is  quite  in  another  vein  showing  Mr.  Egan's 
love  of  nature,  and  his  keen  perception  of  the  fact  not  only  that 
certain  atmospheric  conditions  are  necessary  to  produce  certain 
colors  and  textures  in  flowers,  also  in  men,  but  that  a  shamrock  in 
Ireland  and  a  shamrock  in  America  are  wholly  different  affairs. 
This  is  also  true  of  our  violets,  true  of  our  primroses,  true  of  our 
tulips,  polyanthuses  and  of  all  those  families  of  flowers  that  need 


EGAN'S  SONGS  ANV  SONNETS.  846 

the  moisture,  the  humidity  as  well  as  the  sunshine  of  British  skies 
and  seas  to  give  them  the  richness  and  softness  that  are  their  own. 
Mr.  Egan  may  not  have  reasoned  this  out  in  plain  prose 
thoughtfulness,  as  I  have  done  these  last  thirty  years,  but  his 
shamrock  proves  his  true  poetic  love  of  nature  and  that  quick 
sense,  known  only  to  poets,  of  feeling  all  the  truth  and  beauty  of 
nature  in  a  single  pulse-beat  of  the  soul. 

THE  SHA.MROCK. 

When  April  rains  raalce  flowers  bloom 

And  Johnny-jump-ups  come  to  light, 
And  clouds  of  color  and  perfume 

Float  from  the  orchards  pink  and  white, 
I  see  my  shamrock  in  the  rain, 

An  emerald  spray  with  raindrops  set. 

Like  jewels  on  Spring's  coronet. 
So  fair,  and  yet  it  breaths  of  pain. 

The  shamrock  on  an  older  shore 

Sprang  from  ff  rich  and  sacred  soil 
Where  saint  and  hero  lived  of  yore, 

And  where  their  sons  in  sorrow  toil  ; 
And  here,  transplanted,  it  to  me 

Seems  weeping  for  the  soil  it  left, 
The  diamonds  that  all  others  see 

Are  tears  drawn  from  its  heart  bereft. 

When  April  rain  makes  flowers  grow, 

And  sparkles  on  their  tiny  buds 
That  in  June  nights  will  over-blow 

And  fill  the  air  with  scented  floods. 
The  lonely  shamrock  in  our  land — 

So  fine  among  the  clover  leaves — 

For  the  old  springtime  often  grieves — 
I  feel  its  tears  upon  my  hand. 

Almost  the  same  words  of  praise  might  be  used  for  the  following 
little  poem  called  ''Apple  Blossoms."  Mr.  Egan  has  plainly  studied 
the  color  and  meaning  of  this  one  of  nature's  most  beauteous, 
gorgeous  and  lavish  displays  of  her  life-giving  and  fragrant 
charms. 

APPLE  BLOSSOMS. 

The  tender  branches  sway  and  swing, 
Whispering  all  that  the  robins  sing 
Of  hope  and  love,  and  lightly  fling 
Showers  of  apple  blossoms. 


846  TUB  GLOBE 

A  head  of  black  and  a  head  of  gold, 
Her  little  hands  in  his  firm  hold, 
Eyes  that  speak  more  than  words  have  told 
Under  the  apple  blossoms. 

Ever  on  earth  aeain  shall  they 
Find  in  springtime  so  fair  a  day  ? 
Is  it  true  that  love  can  pass  away 

With  spring  and  apple  blossoms? 

I  next  quote  the  poem  "He  Made  Us  Free/'  as  showing  that 
this  man  with  all  his  daintiness,  his  tender,  womanly,  lovely 
appreciation  of  beauty  and  sentiment,  has  rightly  grasped  the 
meaning  of  the  great  truths  of  history  and  redemption  ;  has  seen 
the  fullest  sunlight  of  heaven  playing  upon  the  salient  points  of 
divine  and  human  power,  incarnation,  resurrection  and  immor- 
tal glory,  and  is  not,  like  so  many  of  our  poor  hobbling,  limping, 
lame,  and  yet  gentle-hearted  modern  poets,  afraid  of  truth,  afraid 
of  heaven,  or  scandalized  by  the  one  sublimest  fact  of  all  Eternity, 
viz.,  that  the  Eternal  God,  in  love,  and  for  love's  sake,  suffered 
here  like  a  poverty-smitten  crank  of  a  man,  died  for  the  love  of 
man  that  was  in  Him,  bnt,  conquering  all  hate  and  hell,  was  again, 
in  immortal,  quenchless  love,  and  beauty,  and  Glory  and  power  to 
lead  the  broken  heart  of  tlie  human  race  back  to  trust  and  obedi- 
ence and  peace  in  tlie  Immortal  God  of  love. 

Would  that  all  our  ne\v  poets  had  this  vision  and  very  soon 
our  literature  would  be  as  a  new  creation,  under  a  thousand  new 
sunrises  of  the  human  soul. 

HE  MADE  US  FREE. 

As  flame  streams  upward,  so  my  longing  thought 

Flies  up  with  Thee 
Thou  God  and  Savior,  who  hast  truly  wrought 
Life  out  of  death,  and  to  us.  loving,  brought 
A  fresh,  new  world  ;  and  in  Thy  sweet  chains  caught. 

And  made  us  free  ! 

As  hyacinths  make  way  from  out  the  dark. 

My  soul  awakes, 
At  thought  of  Thee,  like  sap  beneath  the  dark  ; 
As  little  violets  in  field  and  park 
Rise  to  the  trilling  thrush  and  meadow-lark, 

New  hope  it  takes. 


EQAN'S  80N08  AND  SONNETS.  847 

As  thou  goest  upward  through  the  nameless  space 

We  call  the  sky, 
Like  jonquil  perfume  softly  falls  Thy  grace  ; 
It  seems  to  touch  and  brighten  every  place, 
Fresh  flowers  crown  our  wan  and  weary  race, 

O  Thou  on  high  ! 

Hadst  Thou  not  risen,  there  would  be  no  joy 

Upon  earth's  sod  ; 
Life  would  be  still  with  us  a  wound  or  toy, 
A  cloud  without  the  sun, — O  Babe,  O  Boy, 
O  Mao  of  Mother  pure,  with  no  alloy, 

O  risen  God  !  • 

Thou,  God  and  Kin?,  didst  "  mingle  in  the  game,"  * 

(Cease,  all  fears  ;  cease  !) 
For  love  of  us  ;— not  to  give  Virgil's  fame 
Or  Croesus'  wealth,  not  to  make  well  the  lame, 
Or  save  the  sinner  from  deserved  shame. 

But  for  sweet  Peace  ! 

For  peace,  for  joy  ; — not  that  the  slave  might  lie 

In  luxury, 
Not  that  all  woe  from  us  should  always  fly. 
Or  golden  crops  with  Syrian  roses  f  vie 
In  every  field  ;  but  in  Thy  peace  to  die 

And  rise, — be  free  ! 

We  mil  quote  just  one  Sonnet,  the  first  of  the  series  in  the 
book,  as  showing  the  author's  tender  and  hopeful  feeling  toward 
old  age  ;  that  it  is  not  merely  second  childhood,  but  second  child- 
hood with  all  the  gathered  treasures  and  songs  of  life  at  its  beck 
and  call.  To  me  this  sonnet  of  Perpetual  Youth  is  very  tender 
and  beautiful,  but  I  do  not  want  to  seem  fulsome  in  my  praise. 

PERPETUAL  YOUTH. 

'Tis  said  there  is  a  fount  in  Flower  Land — 
De  Leon  found  it, — where  Old  Age  away 
Throws  weary  mind  and  heart,  and  fresh  as  day 
Springs  from  the  dark  and  joins  Aurora's  band  : 
This  tale,  transformed  by  some  skilled  trouvere's  wand 
From  the  old  myth  in  a  Greek  poet's  lay. 
Rests  on  no  truth.     Change  bodies  as  time  may, 
Souls  do  not  change  though  heavy  be  his  hand. 


♦Tennyson.       +Virgrll. 


848  THE  MLOBE. 

Who  of  us  needs  this  fount?    What  soul  is  old? 
Age  is  a  mask, — in  heart  we  grow  more  young, 
For  in  our  winters  we  talk  most  of  spring  ; 
And  as  we  near,  slow-tottering,  God's  safe  fold, 
Youth's  loved  ones  gather  nearer ; — though  among 
The  seeming  dead,  youth's  songs  more  clear  they  sing. 

I  do  not  claim  or  mean  to  claim  in  this  notice  that  Mr.  Egan's 
Diental,  poetic  or  spiritual  faculty  or  power  is  of  the  very  highest 
order  of  genius,  though  the  future  may  prove  him  to  be  this,  for 
he  is  still  a  young  man,  and  all  the  currents  of  his  being  seem  to 
me  to  be  set  in  the  right  direction  for  larger  future  accomplish- 
ment. So  far  he  is  neither  a  Shakespeare,  a  Goethe  nor  a  Hugo  ; 
lacks  the  subtle  and  masterful  power  of  these  ;  neither  is  he  a 
Tennyson,  nor  a  Browning  ;  lacks  the  strong  intellectuality  and 
perfect  art  of  these  ;  nor  has  he  the  free  hand,  the  lightning  flash, 
or  the  full  flowing  utterance  of  Richard  Reaif  or  Edgar  Poe.  But 
he  is  already  a  much  greater  and  a  more  perfect  poet  than  Long- 
fellow or  Whittier,  and  beside  him,  such  mere  stilted  and  vision- 
less  and  faithless  versifiers  as  Lowell  and  Holmes,  not  to  speak  of 
Aldrich  and  Fawcett  and  Gilder,  are  as  children  in  the  real  art  of 
song. 

Moreover,  his  soul  and  his  work  are  in  the  true  lines  of  all  poetic 
greatness";  he  is  no  mere  rhymer  for  the  newspapers  like  Ella  Wil- 
cox ;  no  mere  harlequin  of  lust  and  the  grotesque,  like  Whitman, 
but  a  sincere  man,  and  a  worker  along  the  sunlit  paths  of  sincerity 
and  the  true  poetic  thoughts  of  the  ages  and  of  the  daily  life  of 
nature  and  mankind.  In  final  proof  of  these  latter  assertions  I 
will  close  this  notice  by  quoting  Mr.  Egan's  "  Night  in  June." 

It  is  true  the  subject  itself  is  one  of  rare  inspiration.  Mr. 
Lowell  wrote  some  very  pretty  lines  on  a  *'Day  in  June."  The 
beautiful  song  of  the  "  Danube  River,"  is  entwined  about  a 
"  Night  in  June,"  as  the  beautiful  Opera  of  Martha  is  wreathed 
around  the  "  Last  Rose  of  Summer."  And  who  has  not  dreamed 
of  a  night  in  June  wherein  hope  took  on  the  wings  of  Love,  and 
through  the  yielding,  balmy  air,  floated  starward  till  night  was 
changed  to  day  and  time  to  Eternity.  But  Mr.  Egan  is  to  be 
credited  all  the  more  for  having  dared  to  choose  this  master  hour 
of  nature  in  which  to  breathe  some  of  his  most  beautiful  words  of 
love,  of  art  and  of  song. 


BQAN'S  SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  840 

A  NIGHT  IN  JUNE, 
r. 
Rich  is  the  scent  of  clover  in  the  air, 
And  from  the  Woodbine,  moonlight  and  the  dew 
Draw  finer  essence  than  the  daylight  knew  ; 
Low  murmurs  and  an  incense  everywhere  ! 
Who  spoke  ?    Ah  !  surely  in  the  garden  there 
A  subtile  sound  came  from  the  purple  crew 
That  mount  wistaria  masts,  and  there's  a  clue 
Of  some  strange  meaning  in  the  rose-scent  rare  : 
Silence  itself  has  voice  in  these  June  nights — 
Who  spoke  ?    Why,  all  the  air  is  full  of  speech 
Of  God's  own  choir,  all  singing  various  parls  ; 
Be  quiet  and  listen  :  hear — the  very  lights 
In  yonder  town,  the  waving  of  the  beech, 
The  maples'  shade, — cry  of  the  Heart  of  hearts  1 

II. 
On  such  a  night  spoke  raptured  Juliet 
From  out  the  balcon  ;  and  young  Rosalind, 
Wandered  in  Arden  like  the  April  wind  ; 
And  Jessica  the  bold  Lorenzo  met ; 
And  Perdita  her  silvered  lilies  set 
In  some  quaint  vase,  to  scent  the  Prince's  mind 
With  thoughts  of  her  ;  and  then  did  Jaques  find 
Sad  tales,  and  from  them  bitter  sayings  get. 
To  all  of  these  the  silence  sang  their  thought  ; 
To  all  of  these  it  gave  their  thought  new  grace  : 
Soprano  of  the  lily,  roses'  lone 
And  passionate  contralto,  oak  boughs'  bass — 
All  sing  the  thought  we  bring  them,  be  it  fraught 
With  the  sad  love  of  lovers,  or  God's  own. 

III. 

This  sweetness  and  this  silence  fill  my  soul 
With  longing  and  dull  pain,  that  seem  to  break 
Some  chord  within  my  heart,  and  sudden  take 
Life  out  of  life  ;  and  then  there  sounds  the  roll 
Of  wheels  upon  the  road,  the  distant  toll 
Of  bells  within  the  town  ;  these  rude  things  make 
Life  wake  to  life  ;  and  all  the  longings  shake 
Their  airy  wings, — swift  fly  the  pain  and  dole. 
Again  the  silence  and  the  mute  sounds  sweet 
Begin  their  speaking  :  I  alone  am  still 
What  are  you  singing,  O  you  starry  flowers 
Upon  the  jasmine  ? — "Void  and  incomplete." 
And  you,  clematis  ! — "  Void  the  joys  that  fill 
The  heart  of  love  until  His  Heart  is  ours." 


850  THE,  GLOBE. 

IV. 

O  choir  of  silence,  witliout  noise  of  word  ! 

A  human  voice  ■would  break  the  mystic  spell 

Of  wavering  sliades  and  sounds  ;  the  lily  bell 

Here  at  my  feet,  sings  melodies  unbeard  ; 

And  clearer  than  the  voice  of  any  bird, — 

Yes,  even  than  that  lark  which  loves  so  well. 

Hid  in  the  hedges,  all  the  world  to  tell 

In  trill  and  triple  notes  that  May  has  stirred. 

"  O  Love  complete  ! "  soft  sings  the  mignonette  ; 

"  O  Heart  of  All  !  "  deep  sighs  the  red,  red  rose ; 

"  O  Heart  of  Christ  !"  the  lily  voices  meet 

In  fugue  on  fugue  ;  and  from  the  flag-edged,  wet, 

Lush  borders  of  the  lake,  the  night  wind  blows 

The  tenor  of  the  reeds — "  Love,  love  complete  ! " 

lu  conclusion  I  will  ask  the  reader  after  perusing  these  quota- 
tions to  turn  to  any  of  the  authors  whose  work  I  have  unfavorably 
comparod  with  Mr.  Egan's  work — notably  to  Lowell's  vision  of 
Sir  Launfal,  and  by  careful  studious  comparison  find  our  new 
poet's  true  place  in  the  famed  Walhalla  of  these  many- voiced 
poetic  days.  W.  H.  Thorne. 


A  FEW  GERMAN  LYRICS. 


In  studying  German  one  is  struck,  afc  the  very  outset,  with  the 
pensive  sweetness  of  its  minor  verse.  It  has  a  sound  like  flute 
music  or  the  stray  notes  of  a  wind-harp.  For  this  reason,  it  suffers 
from  the  process  of  translation  into  English;  and  yet,  even  thus, 
we  can  not  spare  it  any  more  than  we  can  afford  to  omit  German 
airs  from  a  concert  repertory. 

As  a  national  characteristic  this  thoughtful  pathos  wins  our 
regard  ani  holds  it.  The  Germans,  themselves,  set  high  value  on 
their  best  lyrics.  Goethe  prized  his  songs — despite  their  slightness 
and  seeming  evanescence — as  the  clearest  utterances  of  his  heart. 
He  loved  them  above  all  his  other  poems  and  always  shrank  from 
parting  with  them  for  money.  Schiller's  shorter  poems,  also, 
possess  great  artistic  beauty  and  overflowing  store  of  vivid  life. 

The  lyrics  of  Herder  are  less  familiarly  known.  A  careful 
critic  says  of  them:    "They  are  sweet  and  life-like  voices  from  the 


A  FEW  GERMAN  LYRICS.  851 

heart  of  a  man  deeply  imbued  with  philosophy  and  whose  rich,  ori- 
ental nature  shrunk  from  the  dry  and  hard  enunciation  of  the 
schools."  A  strong  poetic  fancy  seems  to  have  pervaded  his  theol- 
ogy and  graced  his  erudition.  His  profound  work  on  "The 
Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry,"  published  at  Dessau  in  1782,  was  cordially 
welcomed  by  the  leading  minds  in  that  most  brilliant  period  of 
German  literature.  He  also  translated  many  legends  and  songs 
from  Arabian,  Indian,  Italian,  Spanish  and  ancient  German  poets, 
among  which  were  the  Spanish  romances  of  the  Cid.  The  results 
of  all  this  journeying  through  poetic  fields  are  visible  in  his  own 
verse.  He  loved  to  look  at  nature  and  man  in  a  poetical  light  and 
to  adorn  the  common  things  of  life  with  ideal  splendors.  "  The 
history  and  literature  of  every  age,"  says  a  German  writer,  "  nature 
and  art,  religion  and  poetry,  were  to  him  rich  leaves,  from  which 
he  sought  to  read  the  great  secrets  of  humanity,  its  worth  and  its 
destiny.  Humanity  was  a  beloved  word,  and  from  his  lips  was  not 
a  mere  high-sounding  phrase;  it  signified  eternal  and  unhesitating 
progression  toward  good."  This  characteristic  gives  life  and  color 
to  all  his  poetry. 

The  unrest  of  mortals,  the  spirits  yearning  for  higher  things 
and  that  anxiety  as  to  the  future  which  springs  from  our  imperfect 
natures,  in  this,  our  transition  period  here  uj^ou  earth,  are  clearly 
and  wonderfully  indicated  in  the  following  poem,  which  has  a  finish 
as  of  Attic  Greek: 

THE  CHILD  OP  CARE. 

On  the  border  of  a  stream, 
Sat  pale  Care,  as  in  a  dream  ; 
And  with  grave,  prophetic  thought 
From  the  clay  an  image  wrought. 

Heaven's  high  Ruler,  coming  near, 
Said,  "  Grave  Goddess,  what  hast  here  ?  " 
"Form  of  clay,"  she  answereth  ; 
"  Breathe  into  it  living  breath  ! " 

Through  the  dull  clay,  bending,  he 

Breathed  his  own  divinity ; 

And  it  waked,  a  God-like  nature  ! 

"  Mine  it  is,"  cried  Jove,  "  this  creature  !  " 

"  Nay,"  the  Goddess  pleaded,  "  Nay  ! 

For  T  shaped  it  from  the  clay." 

"  My  breath  gave  it  life,"  said  Jove. 

While  the  Deities  thus  strove 


862  THE  GLOBE. 

Earth  drew  near  and  said,  "  From  mc 
Was  it  wrought  and  mine  must  be." 
"  Nay  then,"  calmly  Jove  replied, 
"  Time,  the  Umpire,  shall  decide," 
Time  said  ;  "  All  shall  own  it ;  thus 
Shall  its  fate  be  glorious  ! 
Thou  who  gavest  th'  immortal  breath, 
Claim  it  from  the  grasp  of  Death  ! 
Thine,  the  soul-fled  clay  shall  be. 
Earth  !  no  more  belongs  to  thee — 
Cleave  thou.  Care,  unto  thy  son, 
While  the  sands  of  life  shall  run  ; 
Weary,  laden,  he  shall  droop. 
So  into  the  grave  shall  stoop." 

Time  hath  spoken  !    Pale  Care's  son, 
Man,  is  hers  till  life  is  done  ; 
Earth  the  dead  clay  sepulchres  ; 
Mounts  the  soul  to  its  own  spheres  ! 

Herder's  views  of  theology  were  far  wider  and  sweeter  than 
those  of  his  day.  **The  imaginative  Grermans,"  says  Madame  De 
Stael,  *'  with  their  warmth  of  feeling  could  not  remain  content 
with  a  prosaic  religion,  which  accorded  to  Christianity  but  a  chill, 
intellectual  regard/*  Herder  strove  to  vivify  faith  with  poesy. 
He  became  an  intense  admirer  of  the  Bible  and  treated  the  things 
of  religion  with  a  broad,  luminous,  loving  touch. 

His  literary  style  was  free  and  his  works  seem  rather  impro- 
vised than  composed.  His  conversation  possessed  a  rare  charm  ; 
in  fine,  he  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  many-sided  men,  whose 
perfect  mental  symmetry  at  all  points  hinders  any  measurement  of 
special  heights  attained.  He  who  is  great  in  many  things  never 
fares  so  well  as  his  neighbor  who  excels  in  one. 

The  monument  to  the  memory  of  Herder,  erected  by  Grand 
Duke  Charles  Augustus  at  Weimar  in  1818,  bears  this  inscription  : 
"  Licht,  Liebe,  Leben,"  Light,  Love  and  Life ! — a  summary  in 
three  words  of  a  most  beautiful  career. 

Among  the  minor  German  poets  who  flourished  during  the 
Romantic  period  ushered  inby  Noralis  and  Tieck,  Matthisson  and 
Sails  deserve  special  mention.  The  former  was  a  native  of  Magde- 
burg and  early  patronized  by  various  German  princes,  who  per- 
ceived his  eminence  as  a  lyric  poet.  A  five-volume  edition  of  his 
works  found  publication  at  Zurich  in  1816,  and  another  of  eight 
volumes  nine  years  after.     He  also  edited  selections  from  the  lyric 


A  FEW  GERMAN  LYRICS.  368 

poets  of  his  own  land  under  the  title  "A  Lyric  Anthology."  In 
fact,  his  general  services  to  the  cause  of  literature  were  very  valua- 
ble, continuing  through  the  whole  of  a  long  life. 

His  posthumous  poems  appeared  at  Berlin  in  1832,  a  year  after 
his  death.  He  had  retired  from  court  life  in  1824,  preferring  to 
pass  the  evening  of  his  days  in  a  seclusion  better  adapted  to  his 
thought. 

Friedrich  Von  Matthisson  was  a  lyrist  of  dainty  melody.  Schil- 
ler gives  him  credit  for  a  **  fine  perception  of  that  musical  effect 
produced  by  the  union  of  happily  chosen  images  with  skillful  ver- 
sification." He  is  deeply  imbued  with  the  tender  melancholy  of 
the  romantic  school.  His  verse  breathes  a  certain  gentle,  quiet 
feeling,  with  which  the  reader  can  not  fail  to  sympathize.  Its  sin- 
cerity is  so  evident,  it  is  such  a  frank  soul-utterance,  that  it  touches 
us  with  peculiar  charm,  like  the  scent  of  violets. 

His  descriptive  work  is  never  open  to  the  charge  of  vagueness. 
A  lucidity,  as  of  crystal,  pervades  every  feature  of  his  charming 
landscapes,  as  if  he  always  gazed  through  a  clear  atmosphere.  His 
mental  attitude  strikes  one  as  exceptionally  serene, — a  twilight 
calm  of  soul,  its  normal  condition.  The  wistful  faery  glamour  of 
Wieland's  *'Oberon,^'  the  imaginative  power  of  Tieck  are  both 
foreign  to  the  graver  spirit  of  Matthisson  ;  but  m  his  own  way,  he 
remains  unsurpassed.  Among  his  countrymen,  his  lyrics  have 
become  minor  classics,  one  entitled  ''Elegy  in  the  Kuins  of  an 
Old  Castle  "  being  a  particular  favorite. 

But  for  our  purposes,  as  space  permits  giving  one  specimen  of 
his  thought,  and  but  one  that  had  best  be  a  translation  of  his  ex- 
•quisite  poem. 

AN  EVENING  LANDSCAPE. 

Bright  the  wood 

In  golden  flood; 

Falls  a  soft  and  magic  glory 

On  the  "Waldburg  ruins  hoary. 

Homeward  float 

Still  remote. 

Fishing  craft,  with  swan-like  motion, 

O'er  the  grand,  smooth-gleaming  ocean. 

Silver  sand 

All  the  strand; 

And  the  main  drinks  every  color 

From  the  clouds,  here  bright,  there  duller. 


854  TUB  GLOBE. 

Rushes  glance, 

In  fluttering  dance 

On  the  lowlands,  quivering,  gleaming, 

Where  the  seabirds  gather,  screaming. 

Embower'd  there — 

Picture  fair! — 

With  its  garden-plat  and  welling 

Fount,  the  mossy  hermit-dwelling. 

Like  a  dome 

O'er  the  foam. 

Gnarled  oaks  blind  the  mountain  river, 

On  the  hill-side  poplars  quiver. 

Round  the  lone 

Druid  stone, 

In  the  whispering  elm-grove,  wannish 

Elfin  wonders  come  and  vanish. 

On  the  main 

Doth  sunlight  wane; 

Dies  away  the  magic  glory 

From  the  Waldburg  ruins  hoary. 

/ 
Moonlight  floods. 
The  waving  woods; — 
Hush! — dim  spirits'  sighings,  ruing. 
Olden  knighthood's  long  undoing. 

A  beautiful  picture,  this, — and  wonderfully  real,  as  anyone 
familiar  with  coast  scenery  will  understand  ;  yet  its  pathetic  qual- 
ity is  very  elusive.  The  quivering  in  the  poplars,  the  whispering 
elms,the  dying  down  of  the  sunlight  give  an  impression  of  pensive- 
ness  beyond  themselves.  The  poet  lies  in  the  grass  where  he  can 
gaze  on  land  and  sea.  He  watches  the  fishing  boats  slowly  gather- 
ing in  to  shore,  the  glitter  of  the  rushes,  the  calm  of  the  silver 
strand.  He  notes  the  screaming  of  the  sea-birds, the  one  sharp  note 
of  the  whole  melody  ;  but  even  this  only  heightens  by  contrast  the 
general  peacef  ulness.  Then  into  the  singer's  soul  comes  a  piteous 
regret  for  the  ancient  past, — for  the  spirit  of  chivalry,  long  since 
dead  among  men. 

To  quote  Schiller  again:  *'Who,  in  reading  this  poem,  doea 
not  experience  sensations  analogous  to  those  inspired  by  a  beauti- 
ful sonata  ?  We  must  not  be  understood  as  saying  that  its  musi- 
cal effect  is  entirely  owing  to  the  happy  structure  of  the  verse  ;  for 
although  its  metrical  harmony  sustains  and  heightens  that  effect. 


A  FEW  GERMAN  LYRICS.  355 

it  is  not  the  sole  cause  of  it.  It  is  the  happy  grouping  of  the 
images,  their  lovely  continuous  succession  ;  it  is  the  modulation 
and  beautiful  unison  of  the  whole  which  make  it  not  only 
the  expression  of  a  positive  feeling,  but  a  soul-painting." 

This  is  high  praise,  coming  from  such  a  source,  yet  Matthisson 
has  fairly  earned  it.  The  poet  in  dealing  with  landscape  has  two 
advantages  over  the  artist.  The  latter  can  only  depict  the  present 
moment,  its  pathos  or  its  unrest,  its  sunset  grandeur  or  its  pitiless 
sea-surges;  but  its  changes,  infinite  and  incessant,  of  color  and 
imagery  are  the  property  of  the  singer.  Matthisson  knows  this 
and  so  gives  us  an  ever-unrolliug  panorama,  a  series  of  beautiful 
impressions.  The  second  advantage  he  also  avails  himself  of,  with- 
out stint,  which  is  the  power  the  poet  has  of  expressing  those 
associated  ideas  that  nature  awakens  within  us.  The  landscape 
painter  gives  us  a  wondrous  sky,  and  the  gazer  upon  it — if  he  has 
done  his  work  well — says  at  once  *''  Heaven  \"  But  the  poet  can 
do  more;  he  can  roll  away  the  burning  clouds  and  give  us,  in  fiery 
words,  soul-visions  of  God's  Paradise  and  the  elect  therein.  The 
landscape  painter  indicates  much  in  dumb  show,  in  silent  panto- 
mime; but  the  poet,  voicing  his  thought,  weds  art  to  music. 

Sails,  who,  like  Matthiseon,  was  a  poet  of  the  romantic  school, 
appeared  as  one  of  his  contemporaries,  being  born  in  1762  and 
dying  in  1834.  His  verse  has  much  of  the  same  delicate,  asrial 
fancy,  mingled  with  a  tender  seriousness.  Madame  de  Stael  says 
of  him  :  *'  The  penetrating  charm  of  the  poesy  of  Sails  makes  one 
love  its  author,  as  though  he  were  a  friend."  The  following 
exquisite  lines  will  permit  the  poet  to  speak  for  himself,  though 
through  the  poor  medium  of  translation,  where  much  grace  is 
lost: 

TWILIGHT    SADNESS. 

Softly  o'er  the  mountains,   the  star  of  evening  fiflimmered; 

In  ruddy  tints  of  closing  day,  melted  into  shade 

The  quivering  aspens,  by  the  pool's  still  brink,  sit;hed  softly. 

Slowly,  from  the  dubious,  dusky  twilights  of  remembrance 

Disembodied  spirits  rose  and  eadly  floated  round  me. 

Shades  of  friends  once  beloved,  nay,  still,  still  dear! — whispering  kindly. 

Lonely  and  sorrowful,  I  said,  "No  lovely  summer  evening,  now, 

O  blessed  happy  spirits,  shall  e'er  again  unite  us  all!" 

The  evening  star  was  set, — the  quivering  aspens  sighed  sadly. 

There  are  times  and  moods  of  mind  when  some  plain  ballad,  or 
a  simple  poem  like  this,  are  very  grateful  to  our  hearts. 


868  THE  GLOBE. 

But,  now,  let  us  turn  away  for  a  few  moments  to  something 
loftier.  The  following  Hymn,  from  the  German  of  Gluck,  will  be 
a  noble  and  fitting  close  for  this  '^Meditation'*  on  the  lyrics  of  the 
Fatherland.  A  high  authority  says  of  it: — "Nothing  could  be 
more  sweet  and  touching.  Like  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  'Address  to 
his^soul '  or  the  beautiful  Spanish  coplas  of  Don  Jorge  Manrique" 
— familiar  to  all  through  Longfellow's  version, — "it  breathes  the 
very  soul  of  poetry  and  religion." 

TO  DEATH. 

Methlnks  it  were  no  pain  to  die 
On  such  an  eve,  when  such  a  sky 

O'er  canopies  the  West  ; 
To  gaze  my  fill  on  your  calm  deep 
And  like  an  infant,  fall  asleep 

On  earth,  my  mother's  breast. 

There's  peace  and  welcome  in  yon  sea 
Of  endless  blue  tranquility  ; 

Those  clouds  are  living  things  ! 
I  trace  their  veins  of  liquid  gold, 
I  see  them  solemnly  unfold 

Their  soft  and  fleecy  wings. 

These  be  the  angels  that  convey 
Us,  weary  children  of  a  day, — 

Life's  tedious  nothings  o'er — 
Where  neither  passions  come,  nor  woes. 
To  vex  the  genius  of  repose 

On  Death's  majestic  shore. 

No  darkness  there  divides  the  sway 
With  startling  dawh  and  dazzling  day  ; 

But  gloriously  serene 
Are  the  interminable  plains  : 
One  fixed  eternal  sunset  reigns 

Over  the  silent  scene. 

I  cannot  doff  all  human  fear  ; 
I  know  thy  greeting  is  severe 

To  this  poor  shell  of  clay. 
Yet  come  O  Death  !  thy  freezing  kiss 
Emancipates  ;  thy  rest  is  bliss  ! 

I  would  I  were  away. 

Caroline  D.  Swan 


DUE  WARD'S  EPIC  OF  COLUMBUS.  867 

DURWARD'S  EPIC  OF  COLUMBUS. 


Christoforo  Columbo,  An  American  Epic.  Edited  by 
SeSorita  U.  DeAlcala.  Published  by  the  Author,  B. 
i.  durward. 

In  writing  a  notice  of  this  book  I  had  intended  also  to  give  a 
brief  sketch  of  the  author  and  to  quote  various  short  poems  from 
his  Wild  Flowers  of  Wisconsin,  a  little  volume  published  many 
years  ago.  Space,  however,  does  not  at  present  admit  of  a  bio- 
graphical sketch,  and  the  unity  of  this  little  tribute  to  a  gifted 
man  and  an  excellent  piece  of  work  might  be  somewhat  marred  by 
the  bringing  in  of  matter  other  than  that  found  in  the  epic  before  us. 

For  the  sake  of  those  readers  of  The  Globe,  however,  who 
may  not,  up  to  this  time,  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Dur- 
ward  or  his  work,  I  am  moved  to  say  that  he  is  by  birth  a  Scotch- 
man, that  his  main  inheritance  seems  to  have  been  poverty,  and 
that  quick  but  intense  love  of  nature  so  characteristic  of  his  race, 
together  with  ai.  undying  ambition  to  interpret  the  same  in  some 
work  of  art  or  poetry  in  a  manner  and  in  a  spirit  at  once  sincere, 
reverent  and  beautiful. 

So  it  happened  that  Bernard  I.  Durward  while  yet  a  boy,  and 
while  the  necessities  of  bread-earning  were  severely  upon  him, 
turned  his  attention  to  art  sketches  of  nature,  and  to  portrait 
painting,  almost  without  instruction,  and  was  so  apt  in  this  art 
that  he  found  little  or  no  trouble  in  earning  a  living  by  the  early 
and  clever  work  of  his  own  hands.  Later  the  Durwards,  follow- 
ing the  tides  of  time,  emigrated  to  America,  and  Bernard,  one  of 
numerous  family,  settled  in  Wisconsin,  farmed  and  painted  por- 
traits, and  wrote  poems  by  turns,  until  the  domestic  roof-tree 
grew  apace,  shed  some  of  its  branches,  yet  always  served  as  shelter- 
ing cover  for  the  meditation,  prayer  and  beautiful  work  of  the 
subject  of  these  words. 

Following  the  lines  of  their  native  latitude,  the  Durwards 
remained  in  the  West,  and  so  it  has  happened,  I  suppose,  that  the 
work  of  Bernard  Durward  has  never  attracted  the  attention  in 
America  that  precisely  the  same  work  would  have  attracted  had 
the  author  been  born  or  reared  in  New  England,  and  had  his 
work  been  published  and  puffed  in  the  Boston  papers  and  gos- 
sipped  about  among  the  mutual  admiration  societies  of  that  sharp- 
witted  but  very  provincial  town. 


358  THE  GLOBE. 

In  speaking  thus  of  Mr.  Durward,  and  by  implication,  of  his 
earlier  work,  it  is  due  The  Globe  and  myself  to  say  that  I  clearly 
detect  the  imperfections  of  that  earlier  work,  and  see  why,  though 
often  replete  with  beautiful  poetic  thought  and  feeling,  it  has 
not  generally  won  its  way  to  critical  and  popular  recognition. 

Mr.  Durward  is  much  more  of  a  poet  than  either  Lowell  or 
Holmes,  but  never  having  had  the  earlier  educational  advantages 
of  those  excellent  gentlemen,  he  has  never  been  able  to  master  all 
the  laws  of  correct,  appropriate  and  measured  speech  to  the  same 
extent  that  they  have  done  ;  and  now  and  then  the  wrong  word, 
the  word  with  the  wrong  emphasis,  the  word  less  poetic  than 
another  word  that  might  have  been  chosen,  spoils  or  seriously 
deteriorates  the  value  and  beauty  of  poems  otherwise  far  superior 
to  most  of  the  work  of  the  New  England  school  of  poets.  In  the 
epic  before  us,  however,  these  imperfections,  or  infelicities,  seldom 
occur,  and  the  poem  as  it  stands  is  certainly  the  best  original  and 
extended  epic  yet  written  in  this  land. 

What  is  singular  and  remarkable  about  Mr.  Durward's  work  is 
that,  though  a  Scotchman  by  birth,  and  an  American  by  choice, 
hence,  personally  the  inheritor  and  lover  of  the  poetic  genius  and 
productions  of  the  English  speaking  races,  the  spirit  and  manner 
ol  Goethe  are  far  more  noticeable  in  his  work  than  the  spirit  and 
manner  of  any  one  of  the  great  poets  of  his  mother  tongue.  Like 
Mr.  Egan,  Mr.  Durward  has  plainly  been  a  severe,  a  loving  and  a 
constant  student  of  Shakespeare.  But  in  reading  Durward's  Epic 
of  Columbus  I  have  been  far  more  constantly  reminded  of  Faust 
than  of  any  poem  originally  written  in  the  English  language. 

I  will  add  but  one  more  thought  before  quoting  at  length  from 
this  really  great  American  poem  of  the  day.  The  thought  is  this, 
that  though  there  have  been  during  the  past  two  years  almost 
legions  of  epic  and  other  poems  on  Columbus,  many  of  which  I  have 
read  as  in  duty  bound,  this  work  of  Mr.  Durward's  is  the  only  one 
which  seems  to  me,  in  any  respectable  degree,  to  have  risen  into 
the  true  spirit  of  Columbus  and  his  great  enterprise,  and  the  only 
one  that  in  any  measure  holds  to  the  depth  of  meaning  and  the 
dignity  of  that  enterprise  to  the  end  of  the  story.  And  it  is  for 
these  reasons,  not  for  any  personal  reason,  much  less  on  account 
of  any  sectional  feeling,  that  I  have  been  moved  to  give  the  poem 
unusual  attention  in  The  Globe. 

With  these  words  as  introduction  I  now  quote  the  first  eight 
pages  of  Mr.  Durward's  epic  that  they  may  speak  for  themselves  : 


D  Uli  WARD'S  EPIC  OF  COL  UMB US.  8S9 

APOLOGY. 

I  stand  upon  Columbian  soil, 
My  lowly  shed  from  winter  shields  us, 
The  earth  with  little  thought  or  toil 
Abundant  sustenance  doth  yield  us. 

Along  these  fertile  hills  my  flock 
Is  well  supplied  with  herbage  green, 
The  grapes  are  purpling  'gainst  the  rock 
And  lower  down  with  golden  sheen 
The  maize  in  wondrous  ranks  is  seen. 

The  symbol  of  Salvation  hangs 
Upon  our  lOugh,  unplastered  wall, 
Great  sign  of  Faith,  and  deathless  Love, 
For  mankind  sunk  through  Adam's  fall. 

"Who  found  this  land  whereon  we  breathe. 
And  love  and  sing  and  work  and  pray? 
Who  from  dark  Ocean's  vast  domain 
Won  this  New  World  to  Christian  day? 

Of  him  in  gratitude  I  sing. 
His  toils  and  triumphs  'round  me  throng, 
I  close  my  eyes  to  present  things 
And  launch  upon  the  waves  of  song. 

PURPOSE. 
As  Homer  sang  of  fierce  Achille's  rage. 
Of  Helen's  beauty  and  its  fatal  fruit. 
The  noble  Hector's  death  and  Ilion'sdoom, 
That  blottted  Troy  a  from  the  face  of  earth; 
As  Virgil  sang  Eneas  and  his  toils,  "" 

The  Carthaginian  Dido's  tragic  love. 
And  planting  of  the  mighty  Roman  race; 
As  Portuguese  Camoens,  brave  and  poor, 
Sang  of  Da  Gama  and  his  brethren  bold 
Who  first  around  the  Cape  of  Tempests  sailed. 
Through  spectres,  darkness,  cold,  and  raging  waves, 
And  found  the  regions  of  the  rising  Day, 
And  with  the  new-found  thundering  cannon's  roar, 
Startled  the  demon  gods  of  ancient  Ind; 
As  Tasso,  the  ill-starred  in  love,  of  those 
Who  bled  to  libebrate  Jerusalem: 
Grand  stories  that  are  tossed  from  tongue  to  tongue. 
Losing  or  gaining  beauty  by  the  way 
Until  they  reach  the  universal  speech. 
The  future  language  of  the  human  race — 


860  TEE  GLOBE. 


So  I,  a  greater  Hero,  now  essay 

To  sing,  a  purer  purpose,  nobler  deed, 

More  perilous,  of  larger  consequence. 

Than  ever  yet  the  Epic  Muse  hath  known. 

Ah !  that  our  greater  Eastern  bards  should  die 

And  leave  the  splendid  task  to  such  as  I! 

The  theme  is  vast  as  Ocean;  yet  I  shall, 

Happly  against  the  Epopean  Canon, 

From  blue  Olympus  no  vain  aid  implore; 

The  watery-bearded  Neptune,  uninvoked, 

'Mong  pearly  shells  and  ever  shifting  sand, 

His  helpless  trident,  red  with  briny  rust. 

May  idly  swing  like  sea  weed  in  the  heave 

Of  under- waves,  far  in  the  twilight  deep: 

Nor  pagan  god  nor  goddess,  chance,  or  fate. 

Shall  urge  or  thwart  these  frail  but  daring  keels; 

Man's  spirit  and  the  elements  sublime. 

Adverse  or  favorable,  and  o'er  all, 

For  inspiration  and  supreme  control 

The  sleepless  Providence  of  Him  who  made 

The  sea,  the  earth,  the  sun,  the  universe. 

Shall  here  instead  sole  potency  display, 

All  other  from  my  vision  fades  away. 

MATER  SALV ATOMS. 

His  power  it  is  that  from  Thy  bosom  beams, 
O  Sacred  Mother,  ever  pure  and  bright. 
Who  dwellest,  wrapt  in  radiance,  near  the  throne 
Of  thy  Eternal  Son,  Spouse,  Father— God  ! 
Crowned  with  a  diadem  whose  healing  rays 
Cheer  the  dark  dwellers  of  this  under-world 
And  kindle  love  through  dear  humanity|! 

To  Thee  I  lift  my  feeble  voice — to  Thee, 
By  whose  protection  and  all-powerful  prayer 
The  Man-elect  was  urged  upon  the  waves 
To  find  a  world  and  plant  the  blessed  Rood 
Upon  its  verdant  bosom  ;  O,  to  me. 
Thy  most  unworthy  client,  deign  to  lend 
Strength  to  my  heart  and  spirit  that  I  may 
In  fitting  numbers  tell  again  the  story  ! 

Be  Thou  my  Muse,  O  Mater  Salvatoris  ! 
That  for  this  favored  region  which  he  found, 
TJiis  Terra  Sanctoe  Crucis,  where  Thy  Son 
Is  present  on  ten  thousand  altars  now. 
Hidden  'neath  mystic  sacrameirtal  veil. 
At  which  adoring  millions  bend  the  knee, 


D  UR  WARD'S  EPIC  OF  COL  VMB  US.  861 

A  song  not  all  unworthy  may  arise 
Of  him  who  guided  was  by  Thine  and  Thee 
Through  storm  and  worse  than  storm — ingratitude- 
Yet  lifted  surely  into  Paradise. 

DEPARTURE. 

In  sight  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  high 
On  a  steep  promontory,  girdled  well 
With  vineyards,  fig  trees,  and  its  summit  crowned 
By  the  pine  forest,  a  white  convent  stands. 
Just  half  a  league  from  Palos,  yet  scarce  seen. 
Like  a  dove's  nest  among  the  cypresses. 
Save  that  its  belfry,  higher-  than  the  trees. 
Points  like  Hope's  finger  upward  to  the  sky. 

The  fragrance  of  the  lavender  and  thyme , 
And  farewell  blossoms  of  the  wilding  rose. 
Floats  'round  this  dwelling  of  St.  Francis'  sons, 
And  they,  espoused  to  holy  poverty. 
Exhale  the  sweetness  of  a  pious  life. 

Within  this  high-perched  convent — Rabida — 
The  chosen  man,  Cristoforo  Columbo — 
Dove,  Carrier  of  Christ,  most  fitly  named — 
Awakened  by  the  rustling  of  the  pines, 
Whose  ever-verdant  tops  with  cones  begemmed, 
Are  by  the  expected  land  breeze  gently  stirred, 
Knows  by  his  practiced  ear  the  wind  is  fair, 
For  sweeping  forth  his  caravels  to  sea. 

He  rises  calmly  from  a  stinted  sleep. 
In  that  poor  cell  made  dear  by  suffering, 
Tightens  the  seraph-cord  about  his  waist. 
To  bind  a  "  panther"  of  which  Dante  speaks, 
And  on  his  body  makes  the  sacred  sign, 
While  looking  upward  to  that  heavenly  chart, 
Which  he,  by  its  own  light,  so  oft  has  road, 
When  on  the  lonely  bosom  of  the  deep. 

Midnight  has  passed,  but  morning  has  not  dawned  ; 
The  earth  seems  dead  ;  the  stars,  like  living  things, 
Watch  silently  the  dim  and  slumbering  world. 
Passing  like  spirits,  passionless  and  calm. 
Across  the  sleepless  eyes  of  those  in  pain. 
Who  look  in  languor  for  the  tardy  day. 

What  day  is  this  to  be?    One  ever  deemed, 
By  those  who  sail  on  seas,  ill-omened,  drear, 
Unlucky  to  embark,  or  to  begin 
Journey  on  land  or  voyage  on  the  deep. 

But  soul  and  purpose  make  the  time  accord; 


3«2  777^  GLOBE. 

To  his  enlightened  and  heroic  faith, 
80  high  above  all  superstitious  fear, 
Ko  other  day  could  better  be  than  this. 

One  thousand  and  four  hundred  ninety-two: 
80  many  times  has  wliirled  our  lightsome  earth, 
Since  Christ  was  born,  round  the  life-giving  sun. 

The  third  hour  of  the  third  day  of  the  month 
Of  August — near  the  time  when  vineyards  yield 
A  grateful  recompense  to  those  who  toil — 
To  his  long  toil  the  vintage  is  in  view. 

Friday,  the  day  on  which  the  God-Man  died, 
The  day  on  which  Godfrey  of  Bouillon 
In  Palestine  the  Holy  Tomb  delivered. 
The  day  that  Isabella  of  Castile 
Granada  from  the  Moor.    This  wished-for  morn. 
So  steadfastly  desired,  so  long  delayed, 
At  last  must  sprinkle  with  its  new-born  light 
The  tideless  sea  and  Andalusia's  sliore. 

Awake  then.  Father  Juan,  true  and  tried! 
Offer  the  sacrifice  before  day  dawn 
And  give  Communion  as  Viaticum, 
To  one  who  is  about  to  leave  the  world — 
To  leave  the  Old  World  and  to  find  the  New. 
Through  the  high  window  panes  and  through  the  trees 
The  altar-lights  of  Rabida  are  streaming 
Down  on  the  harbor  where  the  drowsy  guards 
Scarce  know  if  they  are  lights  of  earth  or  heaven 
That  strike  the  rigging  of  the  caravels, 
Santa  Maria,  Nigna,  Plnta,  there 
Kiding  at  anchor,  waiting  for  the  breeze 
And  the  Commander,  near  the  shore  of  Palos. 

Thanksgiving  made,  and  these  two  friends  alone. 
As  the  last  stars  are  fading  from  the  sky. 
Before  the  pennons  of  advancing  day, 
Descend  the  hill  in  silence  of  deep  thought; 
And  soon  the  voices  of  the  pilots  wake 
The  inmates  of  the  houses  all  around ; 
Windows  and  doors  fly  open,  and  the  cry, 
Prom  sobbing  motheis,  wives  and  children  comes: 
'*  They  go  I  they  go!  we  ne'er  shall  see  them  more  !  " 
Weeping  they  run  to  bid  their  fond  adieus 
And  lingering,  sadly  watch  them  leave  the  beach. 
Columbo,  pressing  to  his  greatful  heart 
The  good  Franciscan,  cannot  speak  a  word. 
But  with  his  silent  tears  bids  him  farewell 


DVRWARD'S  EPIC  OF  COL UMBUS.  868 

And  jumps  into  the  cutter  that  awaits 
To  bear  him  to  the  Santa  Maria's  deck. 

On  board,  received  with  honor  from  the  poop 
He  glances  o'er  with  comprehensive  eye 
The  smal  flotilla,  marks  the  Cross  of  Green 
Beneath  the  crown  and  'twix  the  /  and  F, 
Which  is  the  banner  of  the  expedition 
That  from  the  Pinta  and  the  Nigna  float; 
But  from  the  mainmast  up  above  his  head, 
The  royal  flag,  the  standard  of  the  Cross, 
Our  Savior's  image  fastened  to  the  tree, 
Waves  in  tlie  breeze  and  streams  towards  the  West. 

He  sees  the  tears  drop  from  the  sailors'  eyes, 
He  knows  their  fears  and  fain  would  comfort  them. 
And  ere  the  anchors  are  drawn  up  he  tries 
To  share  with  them  his  own  courageous  hope. 

"All  ye  who  'gainst  your  own  desire  are  pressed 
To  aid  me  in  this  voyage,  hear  my  words! 
God  is  above  us.  He  our  Pilot  is ! 
The  darkness  of  this  world  is  light  to  Him, 
And  not  a  hair  from  off  your  heads  can  fall 
Without  His  will,  His  knowledge  and  His  love. 

The  gloom  which  fancy,  born  of  ignorance, 
Oerspreads  as  with  a  pall  the  vast  unknown 
Will  soon  be  scattered,  and  your  wondering  eyes 
Shall  see  the  sun,  whose  rays  upon  this  sea 
Sparkle  in  myriads  like  living  gems — 
Cheer  other  lands  with  his  benignant  smile. 

You  think  it  hard  thus  to  be  torn  apart 
From  parents,  wives  and  little  ones  and  friends  ; 
You  might  have  been  as  soldiers  pressed  to  fight — 
And  great  it  is  to  fluht  and  bleed  and  die 
When  justice  and  our  country  call  us  forth, 
But  many  bleed  in  vain  in  wars  unjust 
Led  out  to  slaughter  and  be  slaughtered,  when 
Their  inmost  sonl  have  shuddered  at  the  wrong. 

A  happier  and  a  brighter  lot  is  yours, 
A  country  for  your  country  we  may  win  ; 
The  humblest  seaman  in  this  little  fleet 
May  share  the  glory  of  the  enterprise. 
And  neither  shed  nor  lose  one  drop  of  blood. 

Not  as  in  Epics  of  old  times  we  read 
Of  lawless  lust  and  bloody  conflicts  dire. 
Go  we,  my  friends,  to  rapine  and  revenge  ; 
Our  aim  is  higher.   Not  for  woman's  love 


864  THE  GLOBE. 

Plow  we  the  traceless  furrow  on  the  deep — 
We  leave  our  loves  at  home  to  weep  and  pray  ; 
We  war  but  with  the  elements,  which  God 
Will  temper  to  our  barques'  fragility. 

We  go  like  doves  that  through  the  sea  of  air 
Carry  beneath  their  swiftly  throbbing  wings 
The  light  of  liberty  to  dungeoned  men  ! 
We  go  to  carry  Jesus'  name  to  lands 
Whose  peoples,  in  his  precious  image  formed. 
Have  never  heard  the  tidings  of  great  joy. 
O,  what  a  work  is  ours  !    The  mightiest  Prince 
That  ever  sat  upon  an  earthly  throne. 
Could  he  behold  what  I  in  vision  see — 
And  what  by  God's  good  grace  j^ou  soon  shall  see — 
Would  gladly  leave  his  state  and  jeweled  chair 
To  stand  upon  this  deck  where  now  we  stand. 

Hoist  up  the  anchors,  then,  and  in  the  name 
Of  Jesus  Christ  be  all  the  sails  unfurled  ! 
And  when  our  prows  begin  to  cut  the  waves, 
Send  up  our  hearts  and  voices  in  a  hymn  !  " 

Serenely  to  the  crowd  upon  the  shore 
He  sends  his  salutation  ;  and  his  hand 
To  Juan  Peres  bids  once  more  "  Addio  ! " 

Slowly  the  caravels  get  under  way, 
But  still  the  murmur  from  the  crowded  beach 
Grows  fainter  and  at  length  is  wholly  lost. 
As  many  voices  tuned  by  faithful  heart?, 
Though  sad  and  sinking,  for  the  future  fearinjf, 
This  hymn,  in  music  now  forgotten  sing  : 

"Snlve  Regina?    Virgin  ever  blest, 
Our  life,  our  sweetness,  and  our  hope,  nil  hail ! 

Fountain  of  mercy,  from  thy  stainless  breast. 
Pour  forth  the  prayer  that  shall  for  us  avail. 

"To  thee  we  cry,  poor  banished  sons  of  Eve, 
Mourning  and  weeping  in  this  vale  of  tears ; 

Ah  !  as  we  now  our  home  and  country  leave. 
Inflame  our  love  and  banish  all  our  fears  I 

"  Most  gracious  Advocate,  upon  us  bend 
Those  eyes  of  Pity  which  our  Savior  gave! 

Bring  thou  our  voyage  to  a  happy  end. 
Guide  us  in  safety  o'er  the  unknown  wave  ! 

"  Keep,  keep  the  loved  ones  whom  we  leave  awhile, 
That  they  may  welcome  our  returning  sail ! 

The  sigh  will  then  be  changed  into  a  smile 
And  sobs  to  songs— Uright  Queen  of  Heaven,  all  hail 

"  O,  Dearest  Mother !  When  we  pass  the  tomb. 
Our  exile  ended,  our  true  life  begun. 

Show  us  the  blessed  Fruit  of  thy  pure  womb. 
Whose  name  we  carry  toward  the  setting  sun  I 


D  UR  WARD'S  EPIC  OF  COL  UMB  US.  365 

"  Salve  Regina  !    O'er  the  trackless  deep 

Brighten  our  skies  and  send  the  favoring  gale- 
Spain's  shores  recede,  and  as  we  gaze  we  weep. 

Mother  of  Jesus  I    Queen  of  Sorrows,  hail !  " 

From  this  point  the  restless  voyagers  are  followed  across  the 
then  unknown  Atlantic;  the  shrewdness,  the  courage,  the  wisdom, 
the  endurance,  the  master-mind  of  the  great  discoverer  are  all 
brought  out  by  and  through  the  various  accident  and  intercourse 
that  took  place,  and  that  must  have  happened  during  that  world- 
memorable  adventure  ;  practical,  scientific  and  theological  disqui- 
sitions are  gone  into  in  order  to  while  away  the  tedious  hours  of 
nights  and  days  wherein  men,  with  fainting  hopes  and  lonely 
hearts,  longing  for  home  and  doubting  that  there  were  any  new 
shores  westward,  tended  to  mutiny,  till  the  morning  dawned  which 
revealed  to  all  the  shores  of  this  new  world. 

The  poem  might  perhaps  have  been  improved  had  it  been  less 
theological,  but  Columbus  was  a  providential  man,  believed  in  his 
own  high-heaven  appointed  destiny,  and  the  whole  project  of  his 
life  till  he  found  these  shores  and  gave  a  new  world  to  men,  was, 
and  must  forever  remain  a  serious  problem,  with  intricate  and 
everlasting  theological  as  well  as  scientific,  social  and  commercial 
questions  mixed  up  therein.  So  that,  even  in  this  seeming  incon- 
gruity, as  if  a  product  of  Mr.  Durward's  Scotch  birth  and  training 
(for  Scotchmen  from  the  days  of  Knox  till  now,  are  all  theologians, 
even  Burns,  the  poetic  libertine,  being  an  adept  in  theology)  still,  I 
say,  even  this  theological  aspect  of  the  poem,  not  always  loyal  to  hair- 
splitting orthodoxy,  may  eventually  be  seen  to  have  been  the 
produot,  not  of  a  native,  Scotch  habit  of  thought,  but  of  loyalty  to 
the  true  subject  of  the  Epic  and  the  hour. 

At  all  events  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  find  and  to  point  out 
the  unusual  merit,  the  evidence  of  poetic  genius,  the  proof  of  long 
and  indefatigable  labor  and  much  really  classic  accomplishment  in 
this  noble  Epic  of  Columbus,  done,  mark  you,  not  in  view  of  some 
great  Chicago  exposition  and  parade,  but  done  quietly,  through  a 
series  of  years;  done  in  true  love  and  appreciation  of  the  heroism 
and  the  religion  of  the  great  man  who  found  this  land  and  gave  it 
to  us,  and  of  whose  greatness  we  have  just  now  a  sort  of  Wild-West, 
mere  Chicago  spasm  of  appreciation.  All  honor  to  Columbus  ;  all 
honor  to  the  industrious  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who,  from  whatever 
motives  of  selfishness,  ambition,  pride,  ostentation,  and  poor  little 
busy-body  secretaryism  and  clericalism  may  be  doing  their  share 


366  THB  GLOBE. 

toward  honoring  Columbus  ia  our  great  and  beautiful  exposition;  but 
still  greater  honor  to  this  painstaking,  loving,  noble,  chaste,  exalted, 
naturally  quiet,  hard-working,  unselfish,  gently  heroic  man  of  the 
Northwest,  who,  in  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  and  by  the  quickness 
of  his  perception,  and  the  application  of  his  rare  poetic  genius,  has 
been  laboring  for  years,  without  thought  or  expectation  of  eclat  or 
reward,  to  produce,  and  who  has  produced,  a  poem  in  honor  of 
Columbus  that  is  at  the  same  time  an  honor  to  the  English  lan- 
guage, to  good  morals  and  true  religion,  and  that  will  long  be  the 
pride  and  glory  of  the  country  that  nurtured  and  sustained  such  a 
man. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


THE    SCIENCE    OF    COMPARATIVE    RELIGION. 


Cardinal  Newman  has  shown  with  beautiful  clearness  in  **  The 
Idea  of  a  University  ^' how  closely  every  department  of  human 
thought  is  linked  with  every  other,  however  seemingly  remote. 
Religion  in  particular,  dealing  as  it  does  with  the  most  recondite 
relations  of  man  and  the  universe  and  Deity,  has  numerous  and 
unsuspected  aflBnities  with  almost  every  other  science  and  art. 

With  psychology,  for  most  of  the  activities  of  the  human  mind 
and  heart  have  in  all  ages  and  countries  been  directly  or  indirectly 
determined  by  religious  conceptions,  even  when  not  of  a  distinctly 
religious  character. 

With  history,  for  the  convulsions  and  reconstructions  of  society 
have  usually  been  the  outgrowths  of  movements  of  a  more  or  less 
religious  character ;  the  greater  part  of  the  wars  which  have  been 
waged  have  been  fought  under  religious  pretexts  or  auspices,  and 
in  many  parts  of  the  world  the  history  of  civilization  has  been 
almost  co-incident  with  the  annals  of  a  priesthood. 

With  sociology,  for  the  bond  of  society  and  the  chief  sanction 
of  its  laws  and  customs  has  always  and  everywhere  been  sought  for 
in  religion. 

With  ethnology,  because  religions  have  usually  varied  with 
races,  and  the  religious  and  other  customs  of  the  people  have  always 
been  closely  intertwined  and  mutually  dependent. 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  COMPARATIVE  RELIOION  367 

With  art  and  literature,  for  every  variety  of  each  has,  at 
least  in  some  of  its  earliest  stages,  existed  only  as  the  handmaid  of 
religion. 

Bound  up  as  it  is  thus  closely  with  the  laws  and  customs  and 
history  and  thought  and  ideals  of  mankind,  religion  demands  recog- 
nition by  all  as  the  most  important  factor  in  human  culture. 

It  is,  moreover,  a  universal  fact.  There  are  whole  races  who 
recognize  no  Supreme  Being;  there  are  nations  without  temples, 
without  sacrifice,  without  priests,  but  there  are  none  who  do  not 
possess,  in  one  or  another  form,  a  religion. 

One  of  the  most  noticeable  features  in  the  religious  aspect  of 
mankind  is  the  enormous  amount  of  variation  in  the  religious 
ideas  and  practices  of  different  races  and  tribes. 

It  is  this  variety  which  makes  possible  any  science  of  religion 
other  than  theology,  properly  so-called.  Theology  is  a  scientific 
classification  of  religious  truths,  and  presupposes  a  certain  and 
authenticable  channel  of  religious  knowledge.  But  since  the 
religious  ideas  and  practices  of  the  world,  outside  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  are  in  the  wildest  disorder,  and  form  a  chaos  of  contradic- 
tions, absurdities,  incongruities  and  puerilities,  there  is  room  for 
an  enormous  amount  of  careful  and  skillful  labor  in  the  disentang- 
ling of  the  knotted  threads,  the  following  out  of  slender  clues, 
the  sifting  and  sorting,  in  fact,  of  the  whole  body  of  accessible 
materials,  with  the  view,  in  the  first  place,  of  ascertaining  defi- 
nitely the  exact  points  of  resemblance  and  difference  among  them, 
in  order  that  ultimately  both  their  genetic  and  rational  relations 
may  be  clearly  understood. 

Such  a  mastery  of  the  subject  will  ultimately  make  possible  the 
construction  of  an  authentic  history  of  religion,  which  will  per- 
fectly account  for  the  origin  of  every  variation  and  for  the  pecu- 
liar religious  developments  of  different  countries  and  ages.  These 
explanations  of  religious  origins  and  developments  cannot  fail  to  re- 
dound to  the  glory  of  the  true  religion.  Indeed,  no  better  demonstra- 
tion of  it  could  be  imagined  than  a  perfectly  lucid  and  satisfactory 
explanation  of  all  the  variations  and  corruptions  which  have  given 
rise  toother  cults. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  a  study  of  the  processes  by  which  relig- 
ious truths  have  lost  and  regained  their  hold  upon  the  human 
mind,  and  religious  errors  have  arisen  and  developed  and  undergone 
successive  metamorphoses  according  to  the  changing  conditions  of 


868  THE  GLOBE. 

their  enviroument,  will  furnish  much  valuable  material  for  the 
psychologist,  and  will  enable  the  theologian  to  speak  with  fuller  con- 
fidence regarding  the  relations  which  the  religious  instinct  bears  to 
the  other  natural  instincts  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  supernatural 
grace  on  the  other,  in  the  great  outside  world  to  which  the  normal 
and  divinely  established  channels  of  grace  are  not  accessible. 

The  science  of  comparative  religion  cannot  be  said  to  have 
existed  until  the  present  century,  but  it  is  now  receiving  consider- 
able attention,  particularly  in  France  and  Belgium.  Two  reviews, 
one  Catholic  and  the  other  Agnostic,  are  published  in  its  interest  at 
Paris,  and  chairs  for  its  teaching  exist  at  Paris,  Louvain,  Brussels, 
Liege,  Berlin,  Freiburg,  and  elsewhere. 

A  considerable  amount  of  valuable  work  in  this  general  direc- 
tion has  been  done  in  England,  especially  by  the  English  Orien- 
talists, under  the  leadership  and  following  the  initiative  of  Prof. 
Max  Muller  of  Oxford. 

Most  of  the  scholars  who  are  engaged  in  the  study  of  religions 
make  this  study  only  secondary  to  that  of  the  language,  customs, 
history  and  literature  of  the  countries  in  which  they  take  special 
interest.  Max  Muller  is  primarily  an  Aryan  philologist,  and  his 
collaborators  in  the  great  collection  of  translations  of  the  Sacred 
Books  of  the  East,  which  is  being  issued  from  the  Clarendon  Press 
at  Oxford,  are  sinologists,  Vedists,  Zendists,  or  specialists  in  some 
other  branch  of  distinctly  Oriental  learning.  And  this  is  as  it 
should  be,  for  the  science  of  comparative  religion  has  not  yet 
progressed  far  enough  to  admit  of  broad  generalizations  of  any  but 
an  exceedingly  imperfect  and  tentative  character.  The  vast  work  of 
the  accumulation  of  materials  is  yet  very,  very  far  from  being  even 
approximately  complete.  Nevertheless,  the  few  existing  special- 
ists in  comparative  religion,  and  some  other  scholars  who  have 
given  serious  study  to  it,  have  invented  or  adopted  certain  theories 
of  religious  development,  to  which  they  have  taken  pains  to  make 
their  general  classification  conform. 

The  most  popular  hypothesis  is  that  which  numbers  among  its 
exponents  Prof.  Tylor,  of  Oxford,  and  Prof.  Tiele,  of  Leyden. 
Tylor  is  a  general  anthropologist,  and  treats  of  comparative  religion 
only  as  one  feature  and  a  most  important  one,  in  the  history  of 
comparative  culture.  It  is  to-  scholars  of  that  class  that  the 
hypothesis  to  which  we  refer  is  to  be  primarily  credited.  Accord- 
ing to  the  ethnological  theories  held  by  the  school  of  anthropolo- 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  COMPARATIVE  RELIGION.  869 

gists  now  dominant,  the  human  race  is  supposed  to  have  gradually 
arisen  from  a  primitive  barbarism  to  the  height  of  civilization  rep- 
resented by  the  English-speaking  nations,  through  a  series  of 
stages,  each  of  which  was  characterized  by  a  peculiar  type  of  relig- 
ious thought. 

Eeligion  has  accordingly  passed  through  the  successive  phases 
of  fetichisra,  animism,  pol3'd£emonism,  polytheism,  henotheism, 
monotheism,  pantheism  and  agnosticism  or  positivism. 

The  wide  prevalence  of  this  theory,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  to  be 
accounted  for  simply  by  religious  or  anti-religious  pre-conceptions, 
must  be  attributed  to  a  radical  defect  in  scientific  method.  Both 
in  ethnology  and  comparative  religion,  it  has  been  the  custom  to 
base  historical  generalizations  upon  purely  morphological  data  ;  or, 
more  explicitly,  to  arrange  existing  civilizations  and  religions  in  a 
linear  series  according  to  their  supposed  superiority  or  inferiority, 
and  to  read  this  series  in  an  ascending  scale,  as  a  correct  repre- 
sentation of  the  ethnological  and  religious  history  of  the  race. 
This  involves  the  fundamental  assumption  that  the  lowest  cult  or 
culture  must  necessarily  be  the  oldest.  If  the  opposite  assumption 
were  made,  the  series  would  have  to  be  read  in  the  descending 
scale  and  a  diametrically  opposite  conclusion  reached,  a  conclusion 
to  which  the  contemporary  materials  lend  themselves  as  readily  as 
to  the  other.  The  mistake  is  in  the  neglect  of  such  historical  data 
as  are  attainable  regarding  the  development  of  religions. 

Our  reasoning  must  be  from  the  known  to  the  unknown  ;  and 
our  induction  will  be  of  no  value  if  a  large  and  important  class  of 
facts  be  altogether  omitted  from  consideration.  One  authenticated 
historical  instance  of  religious  development  or  change  is  of  more 
value  than  a  thousand  speculations  as  to  the  probable  causes  of 
existing  variations.  It  is  evident  that  the  historical  method  can- 
not be  dispensed  with,  and  that  only  by  its  aid  can  any  sound  and 
lastingly  tenable  conclusions  be  reached.  All  extant  facts,  both  of 
the  present  and  the  past,  must  be  made  use  of,  the  chronological 
as  well  as  the  geographical  order  must  be  maintained,  and  due 
weight  must  be  given  to  all  the  many  influences,  psychological, 
ethnic,  philological,  and  even  climatic,  which  might  under  given 
circumstances  influence  the  religious  thought  of  a  people. 

But  there  is  question,  not  only  of  the  collecting,  but  of  the 
exploitation  of  the  facts.  All  accessible  facts  must  be  made  use 
of,  whether  archaic  or  contemporary  ;  but  having  been  gathered  it 


870  THE  OLOBE. 

remains  for  us  to  arrange  and  classify  them.  The  favorite  classi- 
fication is  naturally  the  morphological  one,  already  indicated, 
which  is  determined  by  the  general  character  of  the  object  or 
objects  of  worship. 

A  still  older  and  more  popular  method  of  classification  is 
according  to  their  genetic  relationships.  It  is  by  an  instinctive 
adoption  of  this  that  we  speak  and  think  of  Christianity,  Brah- 
manism  and  Buddhism  as  distinct  and  individual  religions,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  each  of  these  is  a  great  group  of  very  widely  different 
religions  only  connected  together  by  a  historical  and  sentimental 
bond. 

Both  of  these  classifications  are  natural  and  will  always  be 
necessary  in  popular  language.  But  for  scientific  purposes  they 
are  both  lacking  in  accuracy.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  genetic 
classification,  for  vvhile  the  general  rule  holds  good  that  like  pro- 
duces like,  it  is  an  indisputable  fact  that  by  that  method  the  most 
unlike  systems  are  in  many  cases  brought  together  and  the  most 
essentially  similar  ones  widely  separated.  For  example,  the  Uni- 
tarian Church  in  New  England  would  be  classified  by  the  historical 
method  as  a  Christian  sect,  and  the  Brahma  Samaj,  of  India,  as  a 
Hindu  sect ;  and  yet  they  are  almost  counterparts  of  each  other 
and  are  as  different  as  possible  from  the  typical  Christian  or  Brah- 
manical  systems. 

There  is  a  growing  tendency  in  the  scientific  world  to  recog- 
nize that  the  same  or  analogous  laws  extend  through  all  depart- 
ments of  nature,  from  the  domain  of  physics  to  that  of  anthro- 
pology. As  a  ^' law  of  nature ''is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
certain  recognized  order  and  sequence  of  natural  phenomena,  and 
since  the  whole  of  nature,  from  the  flint-crystal  to  the  archangel 
owes  its  origin  and  maintenance  to  the  same  Deity,  and  is,  in 
theological  parlance,  the  term  of  one  simple  divine  act,  it  was  to  be 
expected  that  such  a  parallelism  between  the  operations  of  different 
orders  of  created  beings  should  be  one  day  discovered. 

This  latest  scientific  movement  contemplates  the  extension  of 
the  laws  and  methods  of  physics  into  biology,  and  those  of  biology 
into  anthropology.  Strange  to  say,  the  very  class  which  has  been 
advocating  most  strenuously  the  adoption  of  biological  methods  in 
anthropology  have  never  so  much  as  made  an  attempt  to  apply 
that  principle  to  the  most  important  subdivision  of  anthropology, 
the  science  of  comparative  religion.     The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek, 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  COMPARATTVE  RE  HO  ION.  371 

such  a  course  would  be  absolutely  fatal  to  their  own  favorite  sys- 
tems of  religion  or  irreligion.  Most  of  the  exponents  of  compara- 
tive religion  in  its  speculative  aspect  are  agnostics,  and  wish  to  put 
agnosticism,  or  at  most  a  mild  Deism,  at  the  very  top  of  the  ladder 
of  religious  development ;  which  is  not  possible  without  an  abso- 
lute ignoring  of  biological  and  all  other  properly  scientific  methods. 

Time  does  not  permit  of  any  great  elaboration  of  this  exceed- 
ingly interesting  point.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  biological  organisms 
are  ranked  according  to  the  degree  of  specialization  of  function 
and  of  organic  unity  which  they  possess.  Now  it  is  precisely  by 
its  extraordinary  manifestation  of  these  two  characteristics  that 
Catholicity  is  distinguished  from  all  other  religious  and  social 
bodies  in  the  world.  These  are  the  very  things  which,  under  the 
terms  of  "  elaborate  complexity  "  and  "  undue  centralization,"  are 
made  its  chief  reproach  by  the  representatives  of  the  various  forms 
of  invertebrate  and  infusorial  religions  which  now  swarm  in  Occi- 
dental Christendom. 

While  it  would  certainly  be  ridiculously  premature  to  suggest 
seriously  at  this  time  a  final  classification  of  religions  on  biological 
principles,  it  may  not  be  superfluous  to  give  a  few  hints  as  to 
what  general  lines  such  a  classification  may  be  expected  to  follow  : 
We  may  suppose  first  a  general  partition  of  religions,  according  to 
their  degree  of  organic  unity,  into  atemnic,  or  indivisible,  and 
autotemnic,  or  self-dividing. 

The  Catholic  religion  seems  to  be  alone  among  all  the  religions 
of  the  earth,  in  being  by  its  very  constitution  atemnic  or  incapa- 
ble of  disintegration.  Any  who  separate  from  it  drop  off  as  a  dead 
branch,  and  constitute  a  distinct  religion  of  an  entirely  different 
kind.  In  the  very  nature  of  things  there  can  be  but  one  Catholic 
Church. 

The  autotemnic  religions,  whose  unity  is  less  perfect,  may  be 
divided  into  monocephalic,  multicephalic,  or  acephalic,  according 
as  they  have  one  head,  or  many,  or  none,  and  each  of  these  again 
may  be  subdivided  into  theocratic,  in  which  the  teaching  and 
administrative  authority  is  supposed  to  descend  from  above,  and 
democratic,  in  which  it  is  believed  to  ascend  from  below. 

The  theocratic  group  of  autotemnic  religions  may  be  divided 
into  the  sacramental  and  non-sacramental.  In  the  sacramental 
subdivision  of  the  theocratic  multicephalic  religions  come  the 
Greek   Orthodox,  the  Anglicans  and   the   Irvingites.     The  non- 


872  THE  GLOBE. 

sacramental  theocratic  religions  may  be  further  subdivided  into 
ascetic,  ethical,  ceremonial  or  sentimental,  according  to  the  pre- 
dominance of  one  or  another  of  these  features. 

Lamaism,  the  latter  Thibetan  form  of  Northern  Buddhism,  is 
then  to  be  classed  as  a  theocratic,  ascetic,  monocephalic  religion  ; 
Confucianism  as  theocratic,  ethical  and  monocephalic  ;  Moham- 
medanism as  theocratic,  ethical  and  multicephalic.  In  the  non- 
sacramental  ceremonial  group  of  theocratic  religions  will  come 
the  monocephalic  polygamous  Mormonism,  the  multicephalic  Maz- 
deism  and  Old  Brahmanism,  and  the  acephalic  Vooduism. 

In  the  non-sacramental  sentimental  group  we  find  the  mono- 
cephalic Shintuism,  and  Josephite  Mormonism,  and  the  acephalic 
Occidental  spiritism. 

Coming  then  to  the  democratic  grand  division  of  religions,  we 
find  in  the  ascetic  group  the  multicephalic  primitive  Buddhism 
and  Jainism,  in  the  ethical  group  the  multicephalic  Unitarianism 
and  the  acephalic  theism,  in  the  ceremonial  group  the  multice- 
phalic modern  Judaism,  and  in  the  sentimental  group  the  multi- 
cephalic Methodism  and  Congregationalism  and  the  acephalic 
Quakerism. 

This,  as  I  have  said,  is  an  extremely  tentative  and  imperfect 
classification,  and  I  have  included  in  my  enumeration  only  a  very 
small  proportion  of  the  religions  of  the  world  ;  but  it  is  a  pre- 
intimation  of  the  true  method  of  the  future,  the  one  which  will 
not  only  accord  most  perfectly  with  the  accepted  methods  of  the 
older  sciences,  but  which  will  redound  most  to  the  glory  of  the 
one  true  and  universal  Church. 

Coming  now  to  the  history  of  "religions  we  encounter  a  large 
number  of  rival  theories  which  have  more  or  less  acceptance  in  the 
world  of  learning,  and  each  of  which  is  held  by  its  adherents  to 
account  satisfactorily  for  the  known  religious  phenomena  of  the 
world.  There  is  the  nature-myth  theory,  according  to  which  all 
religions  have  arisen  from  the  excessive  veneration  of  the  mysterious 
and  wonderful  phenomena  of  nature.  There  is  the  euhemeristic 
theory,  according  to  which  they  are  the  product  of  an  exaggerated 
hero-worship  ;  there  is  the  philological  theory,  according  to  which 
they  have  mostly  arisen  from  the  corruption  of  language  and  the 
misunderstanding  of  obsolete  and  obsolescent  terms  ;  and  finally 
there  is  the  animistic  or  ghost  theory,  closely  allied  to  the  euhe- 
meristic, which  alleges  that  by  such  phenomena  as  dreams  and 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  COMPARATIVE  RELIGION.  878 

the  reflections  of  the  person  in  water  and  metals,  men  have  been 
led  to  believe  in  a  double  or  soul,  and  from  that  have  been  enticed 
further  and  further  into  the  realm  of  idle  fancy  until  from  that 
little  seed  the  great  world-religions  have  arisen.  Besides  these 
various  scientific  tiieories  there  are  the  old  views  of  the  Christian 
apologists,  according  to  which  the  Pagan  religions  are  either  dis- 
torted remains  of  a  primeval  revelation,  or  systems  invented  by 
the  evil  spirits  to  rival  and  oppose  the  true  religion  of  God. 

Although  the  time  is  not  ripe  for  any  positive  and  final  utter- 
ances regarding  the  history  of  religions,  I  have  to  express  my  con- 
viction that  each  of  these  hypotheses  represents  one  aspect  of  the 
truth,  and  that  all  of  them  must  be  taken  into  consideration  in 
any  thorough  and  scientific  account  of  the  religious  experiences  of 
the  race. 

As  Catholics,  who  recognize  that  the  voice  of  the  Church  is  the 
Voice  of  God,  we  know  that  there  was  a  revelation  of  divine  truth 
and  duty,  more  or  less  complete,  given  to  the  first  members  of  the 
human  race.  My  own  study  of  the  Pagan  religions  leads  me  to 
hold,  as  the  only  possibls  way  of  accounting  for  the  phenomena 
which  they  present,  that  this  primeval  revelation  was  more  com- 
plete and  detailed  than  has  usually  been  supposed,  and  was,  in  fact, 
identical  in  every  respect  Avith  the  present  Deposit  of  Faith,  with 
the  exception  only  that  those  truths  which  to  us  are  historical  were 
to  the  first  patriarchs  prophetic. 

As  the  earliest  members  of  the  race  were  in  the  wisdom  of  God 
left  to  their  own  resources  for  the  preservation  of  the  precious 
truths  of  religion  which  had  been  committed  to  them,  human 
weakness  soon  began  to  tarnish  the  purity  of  the  sacred  deposit. 
Cain  and  his  posterity  seem  to  have  entered  into  an  open  league 
with  the  spirits  of  darkness,  and  to  have  established  a  schism  at 
the  very  dawn  of  the  human  period.  But  among  the  other  chil- 
dren of  Adam  and  their  descendants  the  first  occasion  of  religious 
degeneracy  seems  to  have  been  their  dispersion  thi^Dugh  widely  sepa- 
rate regions  and  the  consequent  disintegration  and  independent 
variation  of  the  original  single  and  universal  tradition. 

It  appears  to  have  been  the  custom  of  the  jiatriarchs,  as  it  was 
subsequently  of  the  King  and  Master  and  the  Hope  of  Patriarchs, 
to  make  use  of  the  phenomena  of  nature  to  smybolize  the  truths  of 
religion.  Thus  the  sun  represented  the  coming  Savior,  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness,  and  the  Eternal  Logos  incarnate  in  Him,  the 


874  THE  GLOBE. 

Infinite  Source  of  intellectual  light  and  spiritual  life ;  the  dawn 
and  the  morning  star  represented  her  who  was  to  be  His  human 
mother,  the  Co-Redemptrix  and  Priestess  of  Humanity;  the  dark- 
ness and  the  storm  symbolized  the  hosts  of  evil ;  the  vast  expanse 
of  celestial  space  was  the  natural  symbol  of  the  Infinite  and  Form- 
less Deity ;  the  waters  of  sea  and  river  and  fountain  represented  to 
the  simplest  faith  of  our  earliest  progenitors  the  life  and  grace  which 
then  fiowed  and  were  still  more  abundantly  to  flow  from  the  gener- 
ous hand  of  Deity,  and  sometimes  they  saw  in  them  the  most  per- 
fect emblems  of  the  purity  and  power  of  her  who  was  to  be  the 
chief  channel  of  all  celestial  graces ;  and  so  on  through  all  the 
phenomena  of  nature.  Everything  spoke  to  them  of  God  and  His 
truth  and  His  works,  of  His  light  and  grace  and  blessed  promises. 

But  as  passions  and  worldly  interests  withdrew  the  attention 
of  men  from  the  sacred  traditions,  they  began  to  forget  the  precious 
truths  which  they  embodied,  and  to  mistake  the  symbol  for  the 
thing  symbolized,  and  so  nature-worship,  in  the  evil  sense  of  the 
word,  came  into  being. 

At  the  same  time  the  prophecies  which  were  handed  down 
from  parent  to  child  as  the  most  precious  inheritance  of  the  race 
— the  traditions  regarding  the  Divine  Person  who  was  to  come  to 
earth  in  human  form,  to  be  born  of  a  Virgin,  to  preach  and  teach 
and  perform  wonders,  and  be  sacrificed  and  die  and  rise  again, 
and  give  himself  to  be  the  Food  and  Drink  of  the  faithful — these 
precious  narratives,  I  say,  began  to  lose  their  distinctness  and 
clearly  prophetic  character,  and  gradually  came  to  be  mistaken 
for  historic  tales,  and  hence  arose  the  many  accounts  of  Divine 
incarnations. 

With  the  dispersion  of  the  peoples  there  inevitably  arose  a 
variation,  not  only  in  their  ideas,  but  in  their  language.  As  a  part 
of  the  general  change  in  language  the  religious  terms  underwent 
various  transformations.  The  names  of  God,  of  saints,  of  symbols, 
of  virtues,  came  to  differ  in  every  scattered  tribal  group,  and  to 
lose,  more  or  less  completely,  their  original  and  proper  significa- 
tion. An  orally  transmitted  poem  in  praise  of  the  virtues  of 
courage,  or  chastity,  or  justice,  would  easily,  when  the  terms  used 
had  become  obsolete,  be  understood  to  refer  to  celestial  personages 
bearing  those  names.  So,  too,  when  an  interchange  of  ideas,  either 
by  their  political  fusion,  or  the  establishment  of  commercial  or 
other  relationship,  took  place  between  two  tribes  or  peoples  which 


TBE  SCIENCE  OF  COMPARATIVE  RELIGION,  875 

had  been  long  separated  and  had  developed  distinct  idioms,  divine 
names  and  other  religious  terms  which  originally  represented  the 
same  being  or  object  might  easily  be  supposed  to  refer  to  entirely 
separate  and  distinct  ones.  Thus  the  El  of  the  Hebrews,  the  1 1 
of  the  Chaldeans,  and  the  Eloh  of  the  Phoenicians  might  easily  be 
mistaken  for  three  distinct  Gods,  and  were  so  mistaken,  whereas 
they  were  but  so  many  different  variations  of  the  same  name  of 
the  one  Supreme  Deity. 

As  the  primitive  men  had  been  taught  to  venerate  all  beings  in 
proportion  as  they  were  worthy  of  veneration,  that  is,  according 
to  their  place  in  the  divinely  established  hierarchy  of  being,  a 
legitimate  worship  of  angels  and  saints  was  prevalent  among  them; 
but  in  the  process  of  religious  corruption  God  himself  became  in 
many  cases  gradually  lost  sight  of,  and  the  angels  and  saints,  and 
sometimes,  too,  quite  unsaintly  heroes,  usurped  the  adoration  due 
to  Him  alone.  This  gradual  raising  of  men  to  godhood  in  popular 
tradition  is  called  Euhemerism,  after  the  Greek  philosopher  Eulie- 
merus,  who  explained  on  this  theory  the  popular  mythology  of  his 
time  and  country. 

In  other  cases  the  spirit  of  worship  died  out  with  the  recogni- 
tion of  its  supreme  object,  and  religion  became  degraded  into  a 
mere  effort  to  enter  into  cordial  or  at  least  amicable  relations,  for 
purely  mercenary  ends,  and  practically  on  terms  of  equality,  with 
such  invisible  beings  as  showed  a  disposition  to  manifest  them- 
selves to  men  under  such  conditions  and  to  give  them  a  gross  and 
tangible  co-operation.  Thus  arose  spiritism,  which,  in  its  two 
forms  of  fetichism  and  animism,  is  generally  prevalent  among  the 
lowest  savages. 

From  the  very  beginning  there  had  been  certain  religious  rites 
and  ceremonies  ordained  by  heaven  as  means  of  formal  worship  and 
communication  with  Deity,  and  as  types  and  foreshadowings  of 
the  promised  sacraments  of  the  New  Law.  Among  these  were  the 
rites  of  initiation,  prefiguring  baptism,  sacrifice,  prefiguring  the 
Offering  of  Christ  on  Calvary,  mystically  renewed  day  by  day  in 
the  great  Mysteries  of  our  Holy  Religion,  sacred  meals,  typifying 
the  Eucharistic  Banquet,  and  ceremonial  purifications,  foreshadow- 
ing the  sacrament  of  penance.  Many  others  probably  existed 
besides  those  that  I  have  named.  It  was  but  natural  that  the  cor- 
ruption of  religious  practices  should  accompany  that  of  religious 
ideas.     As  they  had  been  taught  that  a  Divine   Man  was  to  be  one 


876  THE  OLOBE. 

day  offered  as  the  Great  and  All-Sufficient  Sacrifice,  it  required 
bat  a  little  confusion  of  ideas  to  bring  about  the  introduction  of 
human  sacrifice.  The  worship  given  to  the  Predestined  Virgin 
might  very  easily,  when  there  was  no  infallible  guardian  of  faith, 
become  gradually  transferred,  as  the  Messianic  prophecies  became 
obscured,  first  to  virgins  in  general,  then  to  virginity,  then  to  the 
virgin  body,  and  then  to  the  body  as  such  ;  when  the  door  would 
be  opened  to  a  host  of  grave  abuses,  such  as  have  formed  one  of  the 
most  lucid  chapters  of  religious  history,  abuses  which  would  be  but 
expedited  by  a  lingering  reminiscence  of  the  prophecies  of  sacra- 
mental union  with  God  through  the  Divine  Humanity. 

There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  those  special  manifestations 
of  divine  power  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call  miracles  have 
taken  place,  with  varying  degrees  of  frequency,  since  the  very 
earliest  times.  It  is  a  well-known  principle  of  the  spiritual  life, 
that  miraculous  and  supernatural  wonders  and  visitations  of  all 
kinds  should  not  be  sought  after.  But  with  the  decay  and  corrup- 
tion of  true  religion  there  may  arise  a  feverish  craving  after  the 
wonderful  and  extraordinary,  and  as  God  and  the  saints  do  not 
work  their  miracles  for  the  gratification  of  such  aberrant  desires, 
the  wonder-seekers  naturally  resort  to  diabolic  and  other  available 
agencies,  and  hence  sorcery  flourishes,  as  it  does  almost  everywhere 
where  religious  corruption  has  progressed  very  far. 

Truly  miraculous  powers  are  ordinarily  one  of  the  varied  mani- 
festations of  a  high  degree  of  that  interior  union  with  Deity  with 
which  the  science  of  mystical  theology  deals.  Mysticism  is  the 
essence  of  true  religion,  for  union  with  God  is  the  very  aim  of 
supernatural  religion,  and  that  union  must  necessarily  be  interior 
and  recondite.  It  is  no  wonder  that  this  most  difficult  and  dan- 
gerous, because  most  exalted,  of  all  practical  religious  ideas  should 
have  been  grievously  misunderstood  and  given  rise  to  most  noxious 
errors,  when  the  time  came  that  even  the  main  outlines  of  the 
sacred  tradition  had  been  lost  to  view.  From  it  arose  pantheism, 
for  which  the  way  had  been  paved  by  the  earlier  corruptions  of 
nature-symbolism  and  saint-worship. 

Space  does  not  permit  of  an  elaborate  review  of  the  pagan 
errors  and  the  juxtaposition  of  each  with  the  true  tradition  of 
which  it  was  a  corruption  or  perverted  outgrowth,  but  it  may  be 
noted  that  it  was  from  the  doctrine  of  the  progressive  purification 
of  the  elect,  which  may  be  termed  the  purgatorial  idea,  that  such 


TUE  SCIENCE  OF  COMPARATIVE  RELIGION.  877 

errors  as  metempsychosis  and  other  forms  of  re-incarnationism 
have  arisen. 

It  was  a  common  opinion  among  the  Fathers  of  the  Church, 
and,  indeed,  it  seems  to  be  the  teaching  of  Holy  Scripture,  that 
*'all  the  gods  of  the  nations  are  devils."  How  far  is  this  view 
borne  out  by  the  science  of  comparative  religion,  in  its  present 
stage  of  development  ? 

I  must  answer  to  this  that  we  have  no  facts  in  our  possession 
which  contradict  it,  as  far  as  it  applies  to  the  objects  of  worship 
other  than  God,  Himself,  which  are  to  be  found  among  pagan 
nations.  However  a  god  may  have  risen  in  the  popular  cultus; 
whether  from  some  name  or  attribute  or  operation  of  the  Supreme 
Godhead,  the  foretold  Messiah  or  Virgin,  a  sacramental  idea,  a 
personified  virtue  or  other  abstraction,  a  symbol  whose  antetype 
bad  been  forgotten,  or  an  angel  or  hero  or  saint,  in  any  case,  after 
the  false  worship  had  once  been  established  it  is  quite  a  plausible 
theory  that  some  fallen  angel,  thirsty  for  divine  honors,  has  always 
been  ready  to  hide  behind  the  fair  or  grotesque  mask  and  receive 
the  homage  and  sometimes  respond  to  the  impetrations  of  the 
worshiper, 

A  key  to  many  of  the  remarkable  features  of  religious  his- 
tory is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  corrupted  religious  ideas  are 
often  made  the  basis  of  elaborate  speculations  which  may  result  in 
their  complete  metamorphosis,  and  sometimes  in  the  introduction 
of  still  more  radical  errors,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  and  perhaps 
more  frequently  in  a  restoration  of  truths  which  the  process  of 
degeneration  had  nearly  or  quite  obliterated  from  the  popular  con- 
sciousness. Thus,  though  Buddhism  is  essentially  agnostic,  some 
of  its  later  sects  have  returned,  by  purely  speculative  processes,  to 
the  notion  of  a  Supreme,  Infinite  and  Personal  Deity. 

That  there  is  a  very  great  difference  between  corruption  and 
development  is  quite  apparent,  and  no  one  who  has  read  Newman's 
*'  Development  of  Christian  Doctrine  "  can  fail  to  see  how  import- 
ant the  distinction  is  in  the  realm  of  religious  thought.  Perfect 
and  uninterrupted  doctrinal  development  cannot  be  expected,  and 
is  not  to  be  found,  except  in  the  Catholic  Church,  which  is  the 
sole  repository  of  the  whole  body  of  divine  truth,  in  its  primordial 
purity.  Nevertheless  as  truth,  however  fragmentary,  tends 
ahvays  to  expansion  and  growth,  as  error  always  to  destruction 
and  decay,  those  religious  notions  which  are  but  partly  true  are 


878  THE  GLOBE 

forever  in  a  state  of  flux  and  reflux,  and  men  who  are  outside  the 
Temple  of  Faith,  whether  they  be  called  Christian  or  Pagan,  are 
continually  at  the  mercy  of  ever-shifting  winds  of  doctrine. 
Among  the  false  religions  of  the  earth,  we  see  a  progressive  cor- 
ruption, which  results  not  only  from  the  festering  and  fermenting 
of  error,  but  from  its  sprouting  and  reproduction.  Thus  in 
Brahmanism  we  can  observe  a  line  of  natural  and  almost  inevitable 
development  from  its  primitive  error  of  a  false  nature- worship  to 
its  culmination  in  Buddhistic  agnosticism.  In  Protestantism, 
likewise  we  see  an  exaggerated  supernaturalism  and  bibliolatry 
developing  gradually  into  the  opposite  errors  of  naturalism  and 
rationalism. 

Having  sketched  very  briefly  the  broader  outlines  of  the 
religious  history  of  the  globe,  we  are  prepared  to  consider  a  ques- 
tion which,  though  perhaps  not  itself  coming  precisely  within  the 
scope  of  the  science,  yet  presents  itself  inevitably  to  the  mind  as 
the  most  important  practical  problem  to  which  the  existing 
religious  state  of  the  world  gives  rise  ;  and  one  which  must  depend 
for  its  answer  upon  the  results  of  the  comparative  study  of 
religions.  The  question  is,  whether  or  not  there  is  in  the  religious 
differences  of  mankind  anything  which  either  invites  or  precludes 
the  hope  that  they  may,  sooner  or  later,  be  brought  to  an  end. 
May  we  in  short,  without  an  absurd  Utopianism,  look  forward 
toward  a  more  or  less  complete  religious  unification  of  the 
world  ? 

A  scientific  comparison  of  religious  facts,  present  and  past, 
seems  calculated  to  justify  a  favorable  response.  Not  only  does 
any  true  and  proper  classification  of  religions  bring  out  into  strong 
relief  the  immense  superiority  of  that  religion  which  alone 
approaches  at  the  present  moment  to  geographical  universality, 
which  alone  bears  the  name  of  Universal,  and  which  numbers  at 
least  ten  times  as  many  adherents  (I  speak  advisedly)  as  any  other 
single  and  coherent  religious  system  ;  but  all  the  religions  of  the 
world  are  seen  to  be  at  bottom  one,  and  every  doctrine  of  the 
Catholic  religion  is  found  to  have  practically  been  held,  either 
explicitly  or  implicitly,  always,  everywhere  and  by  all,  so  that  the 
grand  test  of  St.  Vincent  of  Lerins  is  not  only  of  European  but 
of  planetary  application.  If  the  Catholic  Church  could  be  elimi- 
nated from  the  face  of  the  globe,  a  sort  of  composite  photograph 
of  the  remaining  religions  would  be  a  perfect  reproduction  of  it. 


OUR  HAWAIIAN  CONSPIRACY,  ETC.  379 

minus  only  the  organic  life  which  comes  to  it  from  the  special 
indwelling  of  Deity.  Not  only  is  every  Catholic  doctrine  and  prac- 
tice to  be  found,  in  some  guise  or  other,  in  every  age  and 
country,  but  every  religious  doctrine  and  practice  of  the  world 
corresponds  to  some  feature  of  the  Catholic  religion,  or,  at  least, 
when  distortions  due  to  environing  errors  have  been  removed, 
harmonizes  perfectly  with  it  and  permits  of  a  ready  assimilation 
by  it. 

Who  can  doubt  that  this  very  science  of  comparative  religion 
will  be  a  great  engine  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  glorious  work 
of  religious  unification,  after  it  has  been  profoundly  and  persever- 
ingly  studied  and  developed,  in  the  light  of  faith,  by  a  generation 
or  two  of  erudite  and  devoted  Catholic  scholars  ? 

Such  a  study  will  demonstrate  that  the  pagan  sects  stand  in 
the  same  relation  to  the  true  Church  of  God,  which  has  in  the 
Catholic  Chnrch  attained  its  full  growth  and  dignity  as  do  the 
sects  of  Protestantism  and  Judaism  which  are  the  fruit  of  more 
recent  schisms.  It  will  show  to  the  Pagan,  as  well  as  the  Protest- 
ant and  the  Jew,  that  in  returning  to  the  Universal  Church  he  is 
but  going  back  to  the  religion  of  his  venerated  forefathers  and  of 
the  progenitors  of  the  whole  human  race.  It  will  demonstrate 
clearly  that  in  the  bosom  of  Catholicity  are  re-united  all  the 
truths  which  form  the  religious  heritage  of  mankind ;  that  the 
Church  of  the  Living  God  can  satisfy  every  longing,  every  desire 
and  every  aspiration  of  every  type  and  variety  of  man  ;  that  it  and 
it  alone  is  broad  enough  to  give  a  place  to  all  mankind,  and  is  pos- 
sessed of  so  living  and  organic  a  unity  as  to  be  able  to  bind 
together  universal  humanity,  to  its  very  remotest  confines,  in  one 
great  planetary  brotherhood,  one  vast  co-operative  society. 

Merwin-Marie  Sxell. 


OUR  HAWAIIAN  CONSPIRACY,  ETC. 


Daring  the  past  three  months  the  political  events  of  greatest 
importance  to  Americans  and  to  all  the  English  speaking  races,  if 
not  to  the  entire  population  of  the  world,  have  been,  first,  the 
announcement  and  publication  of  ]\[r.  Gladstone's  Home  Rule  Bill 
for   Ireland  ;  second  the  appointment  of   President    Cleveland's 


330  THE  GLOBE. 

Cabinet,  and  the  action  of  certain  United  States  citizens  in  the 
Hawaiian  islands  and  the  comments  of  the  American  press,  and 
the  action  of  the  American  Government  relating  thereto. 

The  exposures  of  the  Panama  scandal,  the  scores  of  new  bank- 
ing rascalities  in  Germany,  France,  Italy  and  the  United  States  ; 
the  inauguration  of  President  Cleveland,  the  panorama  of  ignor- 
ance and  bluster  in  Kansas,  and  the  new  demonstration  of  lynch 
lawlessness  in  the  South  are  but  flashes  in  the  pan  ;  mere  experi- 
ments, tricks  and  grimaces  of  modern  civilization,  compared  with 
the  sober,  serious  and  deliberate  affairs  just  named. 

If  Mr.  Gladstone's  bill,  even  in  some  greatly  modified  shape, 
becomes  the  law  in  Great  Britain,  it  will  be  the  beginning  of  a 
universal  change  of  the  legal  status  of  all  the  colonial  and  other 
portions  of  the  British  Empire. 

If  the  composition  of  Mr.  Cleveland's  Cabinet  should  accom- 
plish anything  like  the  ideal  work  said  to  be  expected  of  it  by  its 
very  sensible  author,  and  by  the  wiser  heads  of  the  democratic 
party,  it  will  be  at  least  the  beginning  of  a  break-up  of  the  two 
old  political  parties  in  the  United  States,  and  the  beginning  of  the 
crystallization  of  a  now  democratic  people's  party  -with  Judge 
Gresham  as  the  presidential  candidate  four  years  hence,  and  with 
hints  toward  a  reign  of  common  sense  and  justice  in  this  land. 
The  main  difficulty  in  the  way  of  this  scheme  and  dream  is  that 
the  devil  has  full  charge  of  both  the  old  parties  as  such,  and  that 
he  will  have  a  casting  vote  on  the  new  formation. 

The  action  of  certain  United  States  citizens  in  Hawaii,  and 
the  comment  of  the  American  press  and  the  action  of  the  United 
States  government  relating  to  the  matter  represent  the  one  ques- 
tion of  the  three  that  is  of  nearest,  most  important  and  most  inter- 
national interest  to  us  all  at  present  :  nothing  that  I  have  read  to 
date  on  this  subject  really  goes  to  the  root  of  the  matter.  It  is  the 
desire  of  all  men  to  speak  only  good  of  the  dead.  I  share  that 
desire,  but  not  to  the  extent  of  winking,  on  that  account,  at  the 
foul  wrongs  of  our  recent  international  policy  as  illustrated  through 
the  American  rascalities  perpetrated  in  and  toward  Hawaii. 

The  first  thing  to  be  recalled  is  that  Minister  Stephens  was 
hut  an  underling,  a  tool  in  the  hands  the  late  ex-Minister  James 
G.  Blaine  ;  that  what  Minister  Stephens  did  in  Hawaii  he  did 
under  distinct  instruction  from  the  home  government,  or  under 
such  pledges  given  him  by  the  American  conspirators  that  they. 


OUR  HAWAIIAN  COySPIRACY,  ETC.  381 

through  an  understanding  with  Blaine,  Wanamaker  &  Co.,  would 
protect  him  against  punishment  or  even  blame.  Hence  Stephens 
is  not  to  blame,  is  not  big  enough  to  blame,  was  simply  a  tool 
and  a  rascal  in  the  hands  of  more  important  and  responsible 
knaves. 

The  second  thing  to  be  recalled  is  that  the  action  of  said 
American  conspirators  in  Hawaii,  revealing  Mr.  Blaine's  interna- 
tional policy,  was  only  another  expression  of  one  of  the  weakest 
and  most  abortive  international  policies  ever  pursued  by  any  Secre- 
tary of  State  in  this  or  in  any  so-called  civilized  land  or  time. 

It  was  Mr.  Blaine's  fixed  policy — either  through  the  Irish 
question,  the  Canadian  question,  the  Fisheries  question  or  the 
Hawaiian  question  to  involve  this  nation  in  a  war  with  Great 
Britain,  and  on  the  pyramids  of  slaughter  raised  by  such  war,  to 
avenge  his  own  personals  lights  and  lift  himself  into  immortality. 
Thank  God,  he  failed  and  died  without  adding  the  crime  of  this 
accomplished  fact  to  the  poor  story  of  his  exaggerated  life. 

The  third  thing  to  be  recalled  is  that  ex-President  Harrison 
had  to  espouse  Blaine's  policy  in  this  regard  in  order  to  secure  the 
republican  patronage  that  only  made  his  defeat  all  the  more  hu- 
miliating ;  and' this  nation  can  never  be  too  thankful  to  Almighty 
God  for  the  fact — whatever  its  sources  in  reason  or  policy — that 
President  Cleveland  recalled  the  rascally  so-called  Hawaiian  Treaty, 
before  that  company  of  pig-headed  gentlemen  known  as  the 
United  States  Senate,  had  a  chance  to  vote  in  its  favor. 

The  fourth  thing  to  be  emphasized  in  this  mention  of  the 
matter,  is  that  the  indecent  haste  with  which  the  American  con- 
spirators in  Hawaii,  taking  advantage  of  the  jiatience  and  the  con- 
fidence and  weakness  of  a  woman,  came  back  to  this  country  with 
their  hearts  full  of  lies  and  their  pockets  full  of  bribes,  and  the 
indecent  haste  with  which  the  republican  newspapers  of  this 
land  led  by  the  New  York  Tribune,  the  Philadelphia  Press  and 
the  Chicago  Tribune  fell  into  line  as  the  advocates  of  the  crime, 
and  the  indecent  haste  with  which  ex-President  Harrison,  goaded 
by  Congress,  or  party  whips  and  party  considerations,  gave 
himself  and  the  power  of  his  position  to  the  furtherance  of  the 
crime,  are  all,  to  me,  among  the  most  deplorable  signs  of  the 
absence  of  any  and  all  moral  principles  in  the  republican  press  and 
politics  of  this  nation. 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  Englr*nd  has  been  stealing  islands  and 
continents  for  centuries;  it  is  perfectly  true  that  the  English  stole 


882  THE  GLOBE. 

the  only  spot  they  have  had  for  home  these  last  eight  hundred 
years;  and  it  is  perfectly  true  that  we  Americans — as  the  most 
sharp-witted  descendants  of  this  race  of  robbers — may  be  expected 
to  do  as  our  forefathers  have  done;  but  this  logic  does  not  take  the 
sting  out  of  the  wasp,  the  poison  out  of  the  sting  or  the  hell  out  of 
the  pains  that  are  sure  to  follow.  Much  less  does  it  justify  robbery 
on  the  part  of  a  people  claiming  to  be  a  Sabbath-keeping,  church- 
going,  Christian  people — with  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  stuck  on 
their  caps  all  the  while  they  are  committing  their  crimes. 

And  the  final  thing  to  be  said  on  this  matter  in  this  connection 
is  that  the  utterances  of  Queen  Liliuokalani  touching  her  rights^ 
the  action  of  the  American  conspirators  in  her  dominions,  and  her 
attitude  of  patience  in  the  case  are  the  only  words  published  in 
the  American  newspapers  previous  to  President  Cleveland's  action, 
which  had  any  touch  of  truth,  or  honesty,  or  honor,  or  dignity  at 
all  worthy  of  the  gravity  of  the  question. 

I  had  written  thus  far  before  seeing  or  hearing  of  Mr. 
George  Parsons  Lathrop's  article  in  the  New  York  Sun,  and 
as  this  article  was  afterward  copied  in  the  Neiu  World — a  Cath- 
olic weekly  published  in  Chicago — and  as  the  article  has  thus 
secured  some  notoriety,  and  seems  to  be  interpreted  as  an  argu- 
ment against  the  claims  of  Liliuokalani,  hence  as  favoring  or  at 
least  palliating  the  pretentions  and  actions  of  the  American  con- 
spirators in  her  dominions,  I  feel  bound  to  say,  that  while  Mr. 
Lathrop's  letter  is  very  readable,  as  a  piece  of  newspaper  gossip 
about  the  domestic  relations  of  certain  full-breeds,  half-breeds  and 
quarter-breed  natives  and  Yankees  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and 
while  it  shows  or  seems  to  show  that  the  antecedents  and  social 
connections  of  Liliuokalani  have  been  no  better  than  those  of 
some  of  our  own  presidents,  or  of  many  other  kings  and  queen* 
and  chief  rulers  of  modern  nations,  I  do  not  see  that  the  letter,  in 
any  way,  or  to  any  shadow  invalidates  her  claim  to  the  throne  of 
Hawaii,  and  I  am  sorry  to  find  a  man  of  so  fair  a  reputation 
engaged  in  writing  newspaper  articles  that  can  through  any  pje- 
tense  be  used  to  aid  the  rascals,  who  besides  trying  to  steal  the 
Sandwich  Islands  from  their  rightful  rulers,  have  also  tried  to 
make  their  theft  the  ground  of  a  war  between  this  country  and 
England. 

It  is  not  a  question  of  the  purity  of  blood  that  flows  in  the 
veins  of  Liliuokalani  or  her  daughter.     If  it  were,  a  microscopic 


OIBOLAMO   SA  VONAIiOLA.  888 

investigation  might  show  that  Liliuokalani's  blood  was  as  pure  and 
queenly  as  that  of  Victoria  or  her  children. 

Nor  is  it  a  question  as  to  whether  the  crown  of  Hawaii  is  elec- 
tive or  appointive.  The  simple  truth  is  that  Liliuokalani  was  the 
rightful  queen  of  Hawaii  and  that,  without  just  or  due  cause, 
excuse  or  palliation,  a  set  of  Yankee  thieves,  in  her  dominions, 
goaded  by  other  Yankee  thieves  at  home,  have  tried  to  steal  her 
country,  to  tarnish  her  good  name,  and  then,  like  all  basest  thieves, 
have  tried  to  make  their  stealing  lawful  and  respectable. 

I  do  not  believe  that  Mr.  George  P.  Lathrop  favors  or  intended 
to  favor  this  infamy,  and  if  he  did  so  intend,  I  have  no  more 
respect  for  him  than  I  have  for- the  rascally  conspirators  themselves 
or  for  any  other  newspaper  scribblers,  who  for  the  sake  of  filthy 
lucre  and  a  momentary  sensation  will  slander  the  name  and  sully 
the  fame  of  any  woman  under  the  sun. 

Touching  the  Home  Rule  scheme,  I  may  say  that  although  Mr. 
Hely's  article  in  this  Globe  was  written  before  Mr.  Gladstone's 
last  scheme  was  promulgated  and  was  intended  for  my  last  issue,  I 
fancy  it  covers  the  ground. 

As  regards  the  mutual  revolution  and  break  up  of  political 
parties  on  account  of  Judge  Gresham's  appointment  in  Mr.  Cleve- 
land's Cabinet,  perhaps  we  had  better  not  prophesy  until  after  the 
fact — at  all  events  it  is  safe  to  wait  a  little  longer. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


GIROLAMO  SAVONAROLA. 


One   op  the    CoifTEMPORARIES     OF    COLUMBUS — PrIOR  OF    SaN 

Marco.    Execution  op  the  Monk  of  Ferrara. 

The  year  1492  has  a  particular  claim  on  the  interest  of  every 
American  who  loves  this  land  of  liberty.  Florence  at  that  period  was 
the  refuge  of  the  artist  and  the  courtier,  the  literati  of  the  world, 
and  the  throne  of  pagan  philosophy.  It  nourished  the  mythology 
that  had  been  banished  from  the  East,  and  the  statue  of  Venus  de 
Milo  was  the  companion — in  some  instances  the  usurper,  of  that 
of  the  Virgin  Mother. 


884  THE  OLOBE. 

This  was  cine  largely  to  the  Medician  prestige.  Scholars  them- 
selves, thoy  lent  fheir  affluent  patronage  to  every  shade  of  learn- 
ing. Though  allies  of  the  Roman  Pontiff,  Plato  had  no  disciples 
more  devoted.  Diplomats  of  the  most  refined  and  intriguing 
nature,  princes  of  finance,  monarclis  of  the  wealth  of  the  nation, 
they  surrounded  themselves  with  the  most  voluptuous  court  of 
luxury  that  ever  existed  under  Italian  skies.  In  scanning  the 
many  figures  which  marked  this  singularly  historic  epoch  that  of 
Oirolamo  Savonarola  stands  as  one  of  the  most  heroic  casts  of  his 
time.  Born  in  Ferrara  in  1453  and  closing  his  life  at  the  early 
age  of  forty-six  he  left  a  record  as  replete  with  Christian  and  his- 
torical events  as  ever  marked  a  page  of  history.  From  his  earliest 
years  he  was  of  the  most  ascetic,  virtuous  and  pious  habits  ;  even 
as  a  lad  he  discarded  the  subtleties  of  the  pagan  philosopher  Aris- 
totle to  engage  his  mind  in  the  study  of  the  Christian  philosopher 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 

His  strong  sympathy  with  the  suffering  world,  his  earnest  efforts 
to  elevate  his  fellow  beings,  and  the  simplicity  of  his  manners,  to- 
gether witli  his  heroic  enthusiasm  in  matters  pertaining  to  the 
glorification  of  the  Deity,  were  the  leading  characteristics  that 
marked  his  eventful  life.  Though  a  polished  scholar  and  a  man  of 
extreme  refinement  of  birth,  with  all  the  world  smiling  before  him, 
he  turned  from  his  home  when  but  two  and  twenty  and  sought 
the  humble  place  of  lay  brother  in  the  Dominican  order.  By  an 
order  from  his  superior  it  became  incumbent  on  him  to  receive 
the  clerical  habit  and  he  was  shortly  ordained  a  priest. 

Savonarola  was  not  one  of  the  orators  born  to  the  art,  but  made  by 
it.  His  first  entrance  in  the  pulpit  was  a  dismal  failure,  and  'twas 
not  till  many  years  later  that  he  achieved  the  triumphs  which  mark 
him  as  one  of  the  powers  of  his  age.  **  His  mission  was  to  re-estab- 
lish the  reign  of  Christ  in  the  heart,"  but  in  performing  it  he  had 
to  do  battle  with  the  spirit  of  his  age.  Diverse  as  have  been  the 
opinions  that  stamped  him  as  martyr  or  heretic,  saint  or  impostor. 
Christian  or  pagan,  he  stands  to-day  after  four  centuries  of  calum- 
niation, with  the  clouds  of  doubt  dispelled  and  the  *  true  monk ' 
of  Ferrara  is  well  before  our  view. 

No  man  can  be  judged  independent  of  his  times,  Savonarola  fell 
upon  a  time  when  most  men  "served  the  devil  in  the  livery  of  the 
Lord/'  when  simony  was  rampant  in  the  Church,  when  usury 
was  king  in  the  land;  when   ''the  sacred ness  of  the  cloister  was 


OinOLAMO   SAVONAROLA.  385 

slain "  and  the  crisis  of  iniquity  was  reached.  If  this  monk 
appears  as  an  outcast  from  his  Church  with  the  stigma  of  excom- 
munication linked  with  his  name,  we  must  know  'twas  Alexander 
the  VI.  who  promulgated  the  decree  by  which  he  was  exiled.  Was 
Alexander  the  VI.  a  man  qualified  to  say  who  should  enter  Christ's 
Church? 

Savonarola's  main  fault  was  that  in  his  endeavors  to  reno- 
vate the  Church  he  commenced  at  Eome.  **  In  the  Primitive 
Church"  he  said,  ''the  chalices  were  of  wood  and  the  prelates  of 
gold;  to-day  the  prelates  are  of  wood  and  the  chalices  of  gold." 
From  the  first  reformer,  Christ,  down  to  the  latest,  no  man  ever 
attempted  to  revolutionize  society  but  was  met  with  the  cry  of 
**  Crucify  him."  The  world  "does  not  like  to  be  deprived  of  its 
pets,  though  they  be  hobbies  or  horses.  The  Medici  represented 
the  Italian  world  and  usury  was  its  hobby  when  the  voice  of 
Savonarola  began  to  shake  the  Florentine  Republic  by  the  force  of 
his  eloquent  oratory.  He  denounced  the  usurer;  he  denounced  the 
simonist,  though  in  one  he  saw  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  though 
in  the  other  he  beheld  Alexander  the  VI. 

"When  he  was  created  Prior  of  Saint  Mark*8  he  waslnformed 
that  it  was  customary  for  the  newly  elected  prior  to  call  on  Lorenzo 
de  Medici  as  chief  of  the  Republic.  To  which  he  replied  :  "  Who 
elected  me,  God  or  Lorenzo  ? "  Being  answered  "  It  was  done  by 
God,"  then  he  rejoined  ••'  It  is  my  God  I  wish  to  thank,  not  mortal 
men." 

When  fame  carried  the  name  of  Savonarola  to  the  Vatican,  and 
with  it  his  exposition  of  the  simoniacal  practices  of  the  ecclesiastics, 
it  is  said  that  Alexander  sought  to  silence  or  conciliate  him  with  a 
cardinal's  hat  ;  but  Savonarola  replied  '*he  desired  no  other  hat 
than  the  martyr's  blood-stained  crown."  And  yet  the  charge  of 
self-aggrandizement  has  been  laid  at  this  monk's  door,  though  it 
remained  closed  to  every  ecclesiastical  as  well  as  governmental  pre- 
ferment that  sought  him.  He  permitted  himself  to  be  used  when 
the  exigencies  of  the  hour  demanded  the  exercise  of  his  calm^ 
powerful  judgment ;  but  it  was  only  when  forced  by  circumstances 
that  he  ever  dabbled  in  political  waters. 

When  Charles  the  Eighth,  the  French  king,  through  the  perfidy 
of  Pietro  de  Medici,  entered  Florence  with  designs  of  spoliation^ 
plunder  and  ruin,  the  name  of  Savonarola  pronounced  in  the  coun- 
cil chamber  acted  like  the  charmed   sesame,  opening  a  door  to. 


886  THE  GLOBE. 

triumph.  Florence  was  to  be  sacked.  'Twas  not  the  wealth  of 
the  city  alone  that  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  ravishing  horde,  but  the 
honor  of  the  noble  wives  and  daughters  of  fair  Florence  was  at 
stake.  The  entire  city  government  was  convoked  to  determine  on 
measures  of  relief.  Consternation  and  confusion  overwhelmed  the 
councilors.  Bprlamacchi  says  :  "In  the  midst  of  the  lamentations 
and  tears  some  person  cried  out,  "  Go  to  the  servant  of  God,  Fra 
Girolamo."  The  name  of  the  Prior  of  San  Marco  was  no  sooner 
heard  than  a  sudden  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  their  consul- 
tation." 

Through  his  intervention  the  city  was  saved  ;  the  honor  of  the 
Republic  maintained,  and  the  noble  Florentines  rewarded  this 
humble  friar  by  hanging  him  to  a  gibbet  and  throwing  his  ashes 
to  the  Arno.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  "  man's  inhumanity  to  man 
makes  countless  thousands  mourn  ?"  He  left  the  cloister  for  the 
council,  it  is  true,  not  however  to  augment  his  personal  prowess, 
but  to  save  a  nation. 

Forced  as  he  thus  was  into  the  arena  of  politics  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  prevent  the  shadow  of  his  genius  from  being  cast  on  his 
environments.  Having  the  welfare  of  the  Florentines  at  heart  he 
desired  to  see  a  theocratical  form  of  government  adopted,  to  bring 
God,  as  it  were,  into  the  political  domain.  We  who  are  now  reap- 
ing the  reward  of  four  centuries  of  skilled  experience,  apprehend- 
ing that  Vox  populi,  Vox  diaboli,  may  scoff  at  the  sophistical 
polemics  of  Savonarola,  but  none  will  gainsay  the  fact  that  a  state 
governed  by  the  strength  of  God  (as  the  word  theocracy  signifies), 
could  not  be  amended. 

Savonarola  made  no  mistake  in  his  theory,  but  he  did  in  its 
application.  Politics  has  one  god.  Mammon,  and  politicians  in  all 
ages  will  see  to  it  that  no  other  god  shall  encroach  on  his  territory. 
While  it  is  not  sagacious  for  ministers  of  religion  to  figure  in  mat- 
ters of  State,  still,  it  is  quite  a  debatable  question  whether  their 
province  does  not  include  any  field  wherein  man's  welfare  is  to  be 
considered,  and  his  elevation  to  be  attained.  When  Savonarola 
sought  the  deposition  of  Alexander  Florence  was  torn  by  internal 
factions.  That  party  allied  to  Rome  in  which  were  some  of  the 
leading  ofiicials  of  the  city  called  a  synod  and  ordered  Savonarola 
to  appear  before  it  to  answer  the  charge  of  heresy.  This  was  the 
initial  step  of  his  final  persecution.  Florence  became  the  accom- 
plice of  Alexander  in  a  system  of  abasement  that  for  cruelty  and 
•depravity  defies  a  parallel. 


SENATOR  QUAY  AND  SUNDAY  CLOSING.  887 

And  ^twas  thus  after  eight  years  of  adulation,  that  was  not 
short  of  apotheosis,  this  true  monk  was  bound  to  a  rack,  tortured, 
hanged  on  a  gibbet,  his  body  burned  at  a  stake,  his  ashes  gathered 
in  a  sack  and  cast  in  the  river.  What  was  his  crime  ?  Morally  he 
was  beyond  suspicion,  as  a  citizen  he  was  an  honor  to  his  country, 
as  a  monk  he  was  a  model  for  the  cloistered  world.  He  was 
executed  for  heresy.  Let  his  sermons,  his  writiugs  and  his  words 
attest  the  falsity  of  his  accusers.  His  "Triumph  of  the  Cross"  is 
B,  masterpiece  of  Christian  lore  and  a  grand  memorial  to  a  Chris- 
tianas love.  After  the  smoke  had  cleared  from  the  holocaust  and 
reason  came  to  view  the  man  that  passion  had  slain  the  spot 
sanctified  with  the  friar's  ashes  was  smothered  with  garlands. 

Thus  for  two  centuries  was  the  anniversary  of  Savonarola's 
execution  celebrated  by  Florence. 

Has  the  sweep  of  modern  progress  obliterated  every  vestige  of 
that  other  '92  ?  Maintaining  the  gibbet  still,  possessing  still  the 
passions  bred  of  animosity  and  prejudice,  does  not  their  combined 
presence  make  possible  the  destruction  of  innocence  even  such  as 
that  of  Girolamo  Savonarola  ? 

MiLDBED  Webb. 


SENATOR  QUAY  AND  SUNDAY  CLOSING. 


Washington  dispatches  of  February  15th,  showing  the  Hon. 
Mathew  Stanley  Quay's  zeal  in  the  United  States  senate,  in 
favor  of  closing  the  gates  of  the  Columbian  Exposition  on  Sundays, 
revealed  to  me  a  good  deal  more  than  they  seem  to  carry  on  the  face 
of  them.  Nobody  that  knows  Senator  Quay  suspects  him  of  any 
sincere  interest  in  religion  ;  hence  the  inevitable  conclusion  that 
his  advocacy  of  Puritan  Sabbatarianism  must  be  on  other  than 
religious  grounds.     What  are  these  other  grounds? 

In  Pennsylvania  politics  as  in  Illinois  politics  there  are  wheels 
within  wheels,  and  everybody  that  knows  anything  about  the  poli- 
tics of  Pennsylvania  knows  that  statesman  Quay — as  the  henchman 
and  spokesman  of  the  Cameron  interests  no  less  than  his  own,  is 
the  true  inwardness  of  the  inmost  central  wheel  of  the  entire 
knavish  machinery.     We  all  know  how  and  by  what  means  he  got 


888  TUB  GLOBE. 

there;  precisely  as  the  Chicago  Herald  seems  to  know  how  Carter 
Harrison  climbed  through  martyr-like  self-sacrifice  and  ever  increas- 
ing poverty  to  his  enviable  stylite  pillar  of  fame  in  the  politics  of 
Illinois,  llemarkable  gentlemen  these,  both  of  them,  each  show- 
ing in  his  way  that,  spite  of  geographical  and  other  climatic  and 
moral  influences,  the  refined  rascalities  of  politics  are  not  confined 
to  either  party,  but  are  as  likely  to  blaze  out  in  hell-flames  in 
Chicago  as  to  smoulder  through  pious  smoke  in  Philadelphia. 

But,  to  Quay  and  the  Sunday  question.  And  why  this  pious  zeal 
for  the  *' Sabbath  "  on  the  part  of  the  Keystone  statesman  ?  All 
the  world  knows  of  the  antipathy  and  opposition  that  existed 
between  Quay  and  Harrison  throughout  the  whole  of  the  latter's 
presidential  term  ;  and  all  the  world  knows  why.  Quay  made  Har- 
rison president,  and  the  Indiana  gentlemen  did  not  sufficiently 
recognize  the  fact ;  thought  that  Wanamaker  did  it ;  thought  that 
he  could  get  along  without  Quay,  and  the  denouement  proves 
the  power  of  the  little  man  from  Beaver,  Pa.,  and  the  natural 
stupidity  of  the  gentleman  from  Indiana.  Harrison  goes  out,  after 
such  failures  and  domestic  losses,  that  one^s  heart  cannot  help  feel- 
ing tenderness  for  him,  however  much  one  may  pity  and  condemn 
his  lack  of  hind-sight  and  fore-sight.  But  Quay  stays  in,  and 
though  said  to  be  a  poor  man,  has  bought  an  expensive  house  in 
Washington,  means  to  stay,  has  in  a  word  coalesced  with  Wana- 
maker and  the  two  have  new  schemes  in  their  heads.  How  do  I 
know  this  ?  I  gave  them  the  schemes  they  are  now  to  pursue,  but 
they  cannot  win  ;  not  without  paying  where  pay  belongs. 

All  the  world  knows  of  the  political  and  general  stupidity  of 
Wanamaker.  Quay  having  accepted  Wanamaker  in  the  republican 
political  machinery  of  Pennsylvania,  and  having  used  him  and 
his  money  and  having  secured  for  him  the  position  of  postmaster- 
general,  Wanamaker  was  no  sooner  in  office  than  he  blundered, 
among  other  things,  noted  in  previous  Globes,  into  the  stupidest 
of  all  blunders  of  presuming  that  it  was  Harrison,  and  not  Quay^ 
who  had  elevated  him  to  office,  and  that  Harrison,  not  Quay,  was 
the  man  for  him,  AVanamaker,  to  pet  and  trust  in  and  look  to  for 
future  honors,  and  Wanamaker's  poor  broken  reed  organ,  the 
Philadelphia  Press,  was  stupid  enough,  for  advertising  and  other 
purposes,  to  side  with  Harrison  and  Wanamaker  and  to  dream  and 
talk  of  Quay's  resignation  from  the  United  States  Senate,  etc. 
The  poor  organs,  and  the  poor  organ  grinders,  what  a  time  they  da 


SENATOR  QUAY  AND  SUNDAY  CLOSING.  389 

liave  in  this  world ;  what  fat  offices  they  secure  at  times,  and  what 
eternal  contempt  from  all  upright  men. 

However,  so  it  happened  that,  notwithstanding  the  Hon. 
Senator  Quay's  well-known  pious  habits,  he  and  Wanamaker  were 
not  bosom  friends  during  the  Harrison  administration  ;  and  when 
Wanamaker  used  to  attend  early  prayer  meetings  at  the  White 
House,  it  is  said  that  Quay  was  seldom  there.  In  a  word,  the  lines 
were  drawn,  and  while  without  any  thought  of  shooting  each 
other ;  in  fact  with  bottom  thoughts  that  each  might  need  the 
other  again  one  of  these  days,  the  two  men  kept  on  separate  sides 
of  the  fence  during  the  Harrison  dynasty. 

With  Harrison  out  of  the  way  however,  the  bone  of  contention 
was  gone,  and  both  dogs  might  get  into  the  manger  and  eat,  not 
a  bone,  but  plenty  of  good  meat  to  their  heart's  content ;  why 
not?  But  how?  Clearly  to  the  sagacious  vision  of  Prophet  Quay, 
the  bread  and  butter  of  national  politics  had  gone  to  the  demo- 
crats; none  of  that  for  Quay  &  Co.,  for  four  years  at  least,  and 
perliaps  forever. 

Clearly  also  to  the  vision  of  Prophet  Quay,  as  pounded  into 
him  by  the  two  elections  of  democratic  Governor  Pattison  in  Penn- 
sylvania, the  Quay  and  Cameron  political  machine  in  that  State 
could  not  hold  the  State  against  the  independent  mugwump,  pious 
element  of  the  astute  republican  voters  ;  hence  the  necessity  that 
Quay  himself  should  become  pious  or  stand  in  with  the  pious 
ex-postmaster  in  defense  of  the  "  Christian  Sabbath,"  etc. ;  in  a 
word,  by  a  pious  rouge  at  first ;  second,  by  a  card  not  yet  played, 
make  a  new  figurehead  of  Wanamaker,  in  Pennsylvania  politics, 
so  catch  the  pious  mugwump  element  of  the  State  and  at  least 
hold  the  fort,  and  the  spoils,  and  the  hell-fire — money  power  in 
Pennsylvania,  if  not  in  the  nation. 

For  this  latter  scheme  the  editor  of  The  Globe  is  to  blame. 
He  it  was  who,  in  The  Globe,  and  to  individuals  near  enough  to 
Wanamaker  and  Quay  to  suggest  the  matter,  first  conceived  and 
promulgated  the  plan.     But  it  is  too  late  for  execution. 

The  mugwumps  of  Pennsylvania  are  not  largely  Wanamaker- 
ites  ;  have  grown  to  doubt  his  piety  and  to  question  his  sincerity 
in  all  lines ;  and  while  they  would  have  supported  him  for  gov- 
ernor two  or  three  years  ago,  it  is  very  doubtful  if  they  would  do 
it  now  that  the  Quay  ear  marks  can  be  so  cleary  seen. 

These,  however,  are   the   reasons,  ladies  and   gentlemen,  why 
Prophet  Quay  is  in  favor  of  closing  the   Chicago  exhibition  on 


890  THE  GLOBE. 

Sundays.  May  his  plans  and  all  the  plans  of  that  new  and  pious 
shoddy  firm  of  Quay,  Wanamaker  &  Co.  utterly  and  eternally  fail 
till  no  shred  is  left  of  their  business  on  the  face  of  this  beautiful 
world. 

W.  H  Thorne. 


A  CHAT  ABOUT  ART  AND  AUTHORS. 


Results  are  the  Colors  of  Events. 

Long  ago  Seneca  asked  the  question  of  to-day — "  What  is  the 
difference  between  old  men  and  children?"  One  cries  for  nuts  and 
apples,  and  the  other  for  gold  and  silver — the  one  sets  up  courts  of 
justice,  hears  and  determines,  acquits  and  condemns  in  jest,  the 
other  in  earnest — the  one  makes  houses  of  clay,  the"  other  of 
marble." 

Xhe  eternal  restlessness  is  upon  us  whether  it  is  the  disturbance 
of  nations  or  the  spring  fashions.  To  the  crowd  the  infinite  means 
the  various.  The  clang  of  change  and  inter-change  keeps  the  ear 
acute.  Materialization  gives  body  to  speech.  Our  eyes  would 
turn  from  the  everlastingness  of  the  mountains  were  it  not  for  the 
consolation  of  the  elements.  The  very  fripperies  of  fashion  have 
the  dignity  of  facts  and.  the  semblance  of  science.  We  hedge 
ourselves  within  a  picket-line  of  ifs.  The  tailor  rescues  us  with 
rule  and  measure — no  Greek  among  us  to  fling  the  drapery  of 
freedom  in  defiance  to  the  cramped  slavishness  of  cloth — so  we 
sophisticate  ourselves  to  the  necessity,  and  gaze  into  shop  windows 
with  the  cult  of  cut  and  design  strong  upon  us.  Shades  and  combi- 
nations become  conscientious  devices  and  irrevocable  decrees. 

We  are  not  to  be  outwitted  by  the  friend  who  was  before  us 
yesterday.  Goldsmith  had  the  insight  of  the  thing  when  he  pic- 
tured the  Vicar's  daughter  as  prude  or  coquette  under  the  dominance 
of  her  gown.  Thus  outward  appearances  become  inner  sensations, 
and  material  things  the  morale  of  one's  life  to  some  degree.  Could 
a  nun  tell  her  rosary  in  the  frivolity  of  a  *'  reefer  jacket  "  in  so 
recollected  a  spirit  as  in  the  pervading  seriousness  of  her  sombre 
habit? 

What  is  this  subtle  inter-relationship  between  us,  our  very  selves 
and  artificialities  and  textiles?  Signs  and  advertisements  lead  us  into 


A  CHA T  ABOUT  ART  AND  A UTHORS.  891 

strange  ways  and  fictitious  circumstances.  Emerson  says,"  Facts  are 
the  most  beautiful  of  fables."  To  the  thinker  ablank  wall  is  the  rarest 
palimpsist — from  which  to  compose  creations  and  paint  visions.  It 
has  the  unfathoniableuess  of  the  sphinx.  It  aims  afresh  from  the 
despair  of  meaning  to  the  highest  language.  One  may  con  volumes 
from  its  inexpression.  Every  stone  is  vantage  ground  to  the  far- 
of-sight  and  the  venturesome  foot.  Literature  has  often  the  dens- 
ity of  a  jungle  rather  than  the  frankness  of  a  pathway.  Most  of  our 
authors  are  tailor-made. 

There  is  One  who  walked  unseen  among  us,  the  music  of  whose 
voice  penetrated  only  the  finer  spiritual  hearing  of  the  few,  but 
who  in  the  silence  and  gloom  never  lost  his  footing,  Richard 
Realf  held  the  inner  secret  of  humanity — and  touched  surely  and 
tenderly  the  rust- worn  chords  of  nature  into  a  newer  vibrance.  The 
leaf  of  the  rose  nearest  calyx  and  anther  he  uncovered  petal  by 
petal  to  the  very  heart  of  its  beauty. 

"  And  up,  unscreened,  to  the  seeing  soul,  past  and  present  and 
future  rise,  bearing  their  secrets  in  their  eyes." 

The  spell  of  a  great  presence  is  still  upon  us  and  the  air  is 
redolent  with  the  incense  of  sound — a  beautiful  pathetic  personality 
— an  artist  who  carries  his  God-given  gift  as  a  sacrament  in  the 
ciborium  of  his  soul.  He  lifts  the  consecration  of  his  life  on  high 
and  his  spirit  breathes  the  holiness  and  power  of  self-reverence. 
Paderewski  possesses  this  to  potency.  In  the  benediction  that  has 
fallen  upon  his  life  he  has  the  grace  of  gratitude  and  the  gracious- 
ness  that  is  the  efflorescence  of  greatness.  In  his  playing  his 
technique  is  too  perfect  to  be  en  evidence  for  criticism.  His  art  is 
lost  in  its  own  perfection,  "  as  one  who  has  climbed  a  mountain 
height  and  carried  up  his  own  heart  climbing." 

Paderewski  gives  back  to  each  composer  his  own,  with  the 
tonal  perfume  gathered  from  the  music  of  his  own  nature,  and 
becomes,  as  it  were,  the  spiritual  incarnation  of  the  composer. 
He  has  the  " seeing  eye"  into  the  heart  of  all  music — he  is  just  to 
all  and  to  himself,  he  is  one  to  whom  the  piano  has  utterance, 
and  from  its  voice  all  have  fair  speech.  To  him  harmony  must 
mean  that  he  has  caught  the  ear  of  heaven,  and  through  it  -has 
drawn  all  melody  unto  his  soul  to  sing  itself  forth  in  miracles  of 
tone.  He  has  indeed  the  power  of  repose,  at  the  same  time  his 
exquisite  emotion  is  the  essential  of  his  playing  and  his  clear 
apprehension  the  safety  of   his  effects.     He  has  the  elemental  wis- 


392  THE  OLOBE. 

dom  of  his  art,  for  he  compreliends  himself  and  "  in  a  flush  of  indi- 
vidual life"  he  ^'poured  himself  along  the  veins  of  others."  He 
has,  besides,  tlie  patience  of  his  convictions  and  never  precipitates 
the  audience  into  an  anticipated  climax.    • 

There  is  a  charming  one-sided  little  work,  *'A  Conversation  on 
Music,"  by  Anton  Rubinstein,  where  the  intention  of  the  imagin- 
ary questioner  develops  Rubinstein's  opinions  in  the  most  interest- 
ing manner  on  the  most  engrossing  of  musical  differences.  Speaking 
of  the  enforced  necessity  of  distinguishing  the  forms  in  music  by 
giving  them  programme  designations,  he  says : 

''  The  publishers  are  mostly  to  blame  for  that.  They  compel 
the  composer  to  give  his  composition  a  name  in  order  to  spare  the 
public  the  trouble  of  having  to  apprehend  it,  and  many  titles  such 
as  Xoctur7ios,Romanze,  Impromptue,Caprice,  Barcarole,eic,  having 
become  stereotype,  facilitate  the  understanding'  and  rendering  of 
the  composition  for  the  public;  otherwise  these  works  run  the  risk 
of  receviug  names  from  the  public  itself."  And  here  Rubinstein 
speaks  of  what  has  vaguely  disturbed  many  whenever  the  Moon- 
light Sonata  is  heard.  He  says,  **  Moonlight  demands  in  music  the 
expression  of  the  dreamy,  fanciful,  peaceful — a  soft,  mild  radiance. 
Now  the  first  movement  of  the  C  sharp  Minor  Sonata  is  tragic 
from  the  first  to  the  last  note  (the  minor  key  itself  denotes  as 
much),  a  beclouded  heaven,  the  gloomy  mood  of  the  soul;  the  last 
movement  is  stormy,  passionate,  and  the  exact  opposite  of  peace- 
ful radiance  ;  the  second  movement  alone  would  in  any  case  allow 
of  a  momentary  moonlight,  and  this  sonata  is  universally  called 
"The  Moonlight  Sonata." 

I  am  sure  Rubinstein  has  by  the  insistance  of  this  truth  ban- 
ished this  rift  in  the  reason  when  listening  to  that  matchless 
creation  and  it  must  be  the  endeavoring  to  work  oneself  up  to  the 
idea  of  the  moonlight  mood  that  has  made  the  interpretation  of 
this  sonata  so  difficult  to  so  many  attempting  it,  and  so  unsatis- 
factory, particularly  in  the  first  part,  beginning  in  the  far-away, 
misty  and  mystic  manner  which  so  often  falls  flat  of  the  inten- 
tion. Rubinstein  oays,  **  I  am  in  favor  of  the  to-be-divined  a,nd 
poetized — not  of  the  given  programme  of  a  composition."  This 
same  thought  applies  to  all  art.  The  happy  reader  is  he  who 
reads  between  the  lines. 

Art  is  the  sublimation  of  the  real  with  no  boundary  but  the 
shadowy  outline  beyond  which  we  feel  rather  than  see   the  elusive 


.4  GHAT  ABOUT  ART  AND  AUTHORS.  393 

loveliness  of  the  ideal.  The  great  composers  write  well  because 
their  thoughts  have  matured  through  experience.  They  have  felt 
what  they  utter.  He  can  to  some  extent  explain  himself,  but  to 
impart  what  his  art  is  by  explanation  is  the  incommensurable 
failure  of  any  language — the  unseen,  unheard  wings  of  infinite 
hosts — shelter  from  the  despair  of  finite  bounds.  Elsewhere  Rubin- 
stein says  :  "  You  will  perhaps  have  noticed  that  all  the  greatest  of 
those  of  whom  we  have  spoken  until  now  have  intrusted  their 
most  intimate,  yes  I  may  almost  say,  most  beautiful,  thoughts  to 
the  Piano-forte — but  the  Piano-forte  Bard,  the  Piano-forte  Rhap- 
sochist,  the  Piano-forte  Mind,  the  Piano-forte  Soul  is  Chopin. 
Whether  the  spirit  of  this  instrument  breathed  upon  him  or  he 
upon  it ; — how  he  wrote  for  it  I  do  not  know  ;  but  only  an  entire 
gomg-over-of-the-one-into-the-other  could  call  such  compositions  to 
life.  Tragic,  romantic,  lyric,  heroic,  dramatic,  fantastic,  souful, 
sweet,  dreamy,  brilliant,  grand,  simple  ;  all  possible  expressions 
are  found  in  his  compositions,  and  are  all  sung  by  him  upon  his 
instrument.  He  says  :  "  In  hearing  Mozart  I  always  wish  to  exclaim : 
"Eternal  sunshine  is  music,  thy  name  is  Mozart"  and  of 
Beethoven — 

"  Mankind  thirsts  for  a  storm — it  feels  that  it  may  become  dry 
and  parched  in  the  eternal  Haydn-Mozart  sunshine ;  it  wishes  to 
express  itself  earnestly,  it  longs  for  action,  it  becomes  dramatic  ;the 
French  Revolution  breaks  forth — Beethoven  appears.*'  This  passage 
opens  the  way  to  mention  a  most  readable  work  lately  published 
by  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. — France  in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  1S30 
-1890 — by  Elizabeth  W.  Latimer ;  the  illustrations  are  fine  and 
helpful.  The  writer  has  the  divining  rod  of  detail,  and  from 
the  overlapping  of  crowded  scenes  she  touches  as  with  a  magic 
hand  the  waters  of  bygone  events  and  disturbs  only  the  agitation 
of  the  waves  that  bore  onward  the  people  of  importance,  whose 
sails  were  ever  upon  a  sea  of  venture.  Her  work  is  evenly  bal- 
anced— opinions  do  not  obtrude,  she  simply  brings  truth  to  the 
surface  and  leaves  human  nature  its  own  coloring.  The  book 
entrances  with  glamour  of  romance — it  charmingly  asserts,  but  does 
not  analyze,  and  does  not  bewilder  one  with  bristling  figures ;  her 
pen  is  something  better  than  the  moving  hand  on  a  timepiece. 
Pathos  touches  deep  here  and  there.  The  exquisitely  sad  letter  of 
the  poor  Queen  Amelie,  written  after  the  death  of  her  eldest  son — 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  her  beloved  Chartres — adds  the  touch  that 


894  THE  GLOBE 

makes  the  world  akin.  Chartres  was  his  first  title  before  his  father, 
Louis  Philippe,  came  to  the  throne.  The  first  few  lines  of  the 
letter  run  thus  :  '*  My  Chartres — my  beloved  son;  he  whose  birth 
made  all  my  happiness,  whose  infancy  and  growing  years  were  all 
my  occupation,  wliose  youth  was  all  my  pride  and  consolation,  and 
who  would,  as  I  hoped,  be  the  prop  of  my  old  age — no  longer  lives. 
He  has  been  taken  from  us  in  the  midst  of  completed  happiness, 
and  of  the  happiest  prospects  of  the  future,  whilst  each  day  he 
gained  in  virtue,  in  understanding,  in  wisdom,  following  the  foot- 
steps of  his  noble  and  excellent  father.  He  was  more  than  a  son 
to  me — he  was  my  best  friend.  And  God  has  taken  him  from  me." 

It  is  said  the  death  of  the  young  duke  was  the  greatest  blow  that 
could  have  befallen  Louis  Philippe — not  only  as  a  father,  but  as 
head  of  a  dynasty.  It  speaks  of  the  cordial  friendship  existing 
between  Queen  Victoria  and  the  king,  and  of  her  visit  to  him  at 
his  Chateau  d'  Eu.  This  friendship  was  broken  in  after  years  by 
the  conduct  of  the  king  in  his  treachery  to  England  in  the  matter 
of  the  marriage  of  Due  deMonpensier  to  Isabella.  The  king  not 
only  forfeited  the  personal  favor  of  the  queen,  but  he  obtained  no 
chance  of  the  throne  of  Spain  by  his  device.  There  is  a  great  deal 
of  interest  concerning  Alphonse  de  Lamartine — whom  she  tells  us 
was  **a  Christian  believer,  a  high-minded  man,  by  birth  an  aristo- 
crat, yet  by  sympathy  a  man  of  the  masses;" — here  I  think  she 
quotes  from  another  writer,  possibly  Mrs.  Oliphant  in  Blackwood's 
Magazine  ;  it  says:  *'  He  was  full  of  sentimentalities,  of  vainglory 
and  of  personal  vanity ;  but  no  pilot  ever  guided  a  ship  of  state  so 
skillfully  and  with  such  absolute  self-devotion  through  an  angry 
sea,  for  a  brief  while,  just  long  enough  to  effect  his  purpose.  He  was 
the  idol  of  the  populace."  The  account  of  the  wonderful  career 
of  Louis  Napoleon  is  intensely  absorbing — '^Tlie  Man  at  the  Ely  see" 
or  Celui-ci  "  reduces  fiction  to  a  dead  level  of  commonplace  com- 
pared with  his  extraordinary  moves  upon  the  chess-board  of  public 
affairs.  The  narrative  of  the  unfortunate  Maxmilian's  short-lived 
honors  is  very  interesting.  The  queen  wrote  of  him  to  her  uncle 
Leopold : 

"The  archduke  is  charming,  so  clever,  natural,  kind,  and 
amiable  ;  so  English  in  his  feelings  and  likings  ;  with  the  exception 
of  the  mouth  and  chin,  he  is  good  looking,  but  I  think  one  does 
not  the  least  care  for  that,  he  is  so  very  kind,  clever  and  pleasant. 
I  wish  you  really  joy,  dearest  uncle,  at  having  such  a  husband  for 


A  CHAT  ABO UT  ART  AND  A  DTUORS.  895 

dear  Charlotte.  I  am  sure  he  will  make  her  happy,  and  do  a  great 
deal  for  Italy."  How  far  from  all  presage  of  coming  misfortune 
was  the  outset  of  this  royal  young  couple — royal  in  estate  and 
royal  in  the  fastness  of  devoted  love.  It  is  hard  to  recall  the 
sequence  ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  seems  a  super-imposed  picture  of 
tragedy  caught  by  morbid  imagination  rather  than  actual  occur- 
rence, 

"  France  in  the  Nineteenth  Century "  is  a  most  fascinating 
work,  and  trusting  the  reader  is  already  drawn  to  the  threshold  of 
its  real  worth  one  may  be  sure  of  no  flagging  in  its  perusal  when 
once  taken  up. 

'*  Familiar  Talks  on  English  Literature/'  also  brought  out  by 
A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  are  exactly  what  the  title  indicates.  Mrs. 
Abby  Sage  Richardson,  the  author,  has  made  a  careful  and  con- 
scientious gathering  of  noted  writers,  embracing  the  epoch  of 
English  literature  from  the  English  conquest  of  Britain  449,  to 
the  death  of  Walter  Scott.  The  style  is  particularly  adapted  for 
young  people  to  whom  the  days  are  too  fair  for  musty  tomes  or 
many-volumed  records  of  the  men  of  renown,  or  to  others  to  whom 
more  scholarly  work  might  be  a  patience-taxing  undertaking — all 
necessary  and  fundamental  facts  are  given,  founding  in  the  mind 
a  radical  knowledge  from  which  other  and  eager  growth  in  broader 
fields  may  be  induced.  There  is  a  certain  condescension  which  is 
almost  a  mannerism  in  her  writing;  it  is  the  teacher  with  her  class 
— but  after  all  the  pupil  has  the  gratification  of  having  learned 
what  was  purposed  to  study,  and  the  sensation  of  finding  the  duty 
self-imposed  unexpectedly  pleasant  and  agreeable  ;  one  may  skim 
along  the  surface  of  deep  waters,  getting  all  the  sunlight,  but  it  is 
the  diver  who  secures  the  pearl.  There  are  people  who  have  a 
mission  and  do  their  measure  of  good  often  more  surely  than  those 
who  found  kingdoms.  So  the  writer  who  teaches  the  times  in 
clear  and  unmistakable  tones  calls  more  to  her  hearing  than  the 
voice  from  the  cloister  of  a  deeper  teaching.  Mrs.  Richardson's 
book  has  well  fulfilled  its  promise,  and  it  is  a  valuable  acquisition 
to  the  general  reader. 

Akna  Cox  Stephens. 


8M  THE  GLOBE. 

GLOBE  NOTES. 


The  Globe  notes  of  this  the  last  number  of  the  third  volume 
of  The  Globe  must  begin  with  a  confession,  an  explanation,  and  a 
partial  promise  "  not  to  do  it  again/'  First  the  confession,  that 
many  of  my  dearest  and  best  friends,  Catholic  and  Protestant, 
have,  time  and  again,  protested  in  all  gentleness  and  kindness 
against  the  severity  of  language  used  in  many  of  The  Globe's 
denunciations  of  public  men,  and  that  these  protests  are  exactly  in 
accordance  with  my  own  best  convictions  and  with  my  own  silent 
comments  upon  this  special  phase  of  my  work — that  is,  when  I 
view  this  work  in  an  unimpassioned  light,  and  think  of  it  only 
from  an  £esthetic  and  an  artistic  standpoint. 

By  way  of  explanation,  however,  I  have  to  say  that  if  I  had 
allowed  these  aesthetic  and  artistic  impulses  and  motives  io  govern 
me  I  never  should  have  founded  The  Globe.  My  own  nature 
shrinks  from  giving  offense,  and  used  so  to  shrink  from  the  possi- 
ble consequences  of  giving  offense  that  a  few  years  ago  I  might 
have  been  selected  as  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  undertake  and 
execute  work  of  this  kind.  But  before  founding  The  Globe  the 
world  in  many  aspects  of  it,  and  notably  in  some  of  the  individuals 
herein  severely  criticised,  had  so  revealed  to  me  the  pitiable,  des- 
picable and  hellish  side  of  it,  albeit,  under  the  guise  of  friendship, 
goodness  and  piety,  that  I  felt  in  duty  bound  to  found  a  magazine 
that  must  and  would  call  many  things  and  persons  by  their  right 
names  instead  of  whitewashing  them,  gilding  and  varnishing  and 
veneering  them,  as  was  and  as  still  remains  largely  the  custom  in 
the  popular  sectarian  and  secular  reviews  and  periodicals  of  the 
day. 

In  a  word,  as  I  have  had  to  repeat  time  and  again.  The  Globe 
was  founded  avowedly  to  fill  a  prophet's  mission,  not  toward  the 
heresies,  but  toward  the  guarded  and  almost  sanctified  moral  false- 
hoods of  the  religions,  the  politics,  the  education,  the  art,  the 
sciences  and  the  commercial  and  social  life  of  our  day  :  hence  it 
had  to  be  and  has  to  be,  my  dear,  dear  friends — has  still  to  be 
different  from  the  average  reviews  of  the  times.  And  could  I 
reveal  to  my  critics  the  countless  atrocious  facts  in  my  possession 
regarding  the  lives  of  the  individual  and  other  subjects  treated 
severely  in  these  pages,  and  could  I  further  reveal  to  them  my  own 


OLOBE  NOTES.  897 

relation  to  these,  as  a  man  sworn  and  consecrated  to  defend  the 
truths  of  Eternal  justice,  they  would  see  at  least  that  they,  in 
their  refined  and  secure  calmness,  were  not  capable  judges  of  what 
is  my  own  duty  in  the  case. 

Personally,  I  have  not  an  unkind  feeling  toward  a  human 
being  on  earth,  in  heaven  or  in  hell.  But  toward  many  of  the 
things  done,  and  the  teachings  taught,  by  so-called  representative 
men  in  our  age,  I  have,  and  for  the  best  and  clearest  of  reasons, 
as  God  in  His  own  time  will  make  plain,  an  unutterable  loathing 
and  contempt.  And  above  all  I  have  seen  and  still  see  that  the 
day  had  come  and  has  come  when  the  falsehoods,  the  burning 
falsehoods  of  the  age,  that  we.alth  is  the  savior  of  the  age ;  that 
physical  science  is  the  savior  of  the  age  ;  that  journalism  is  the 
savior  of  the  age,  had  to  be  and  have  to  be  driven  out  of  the  mod- 
ern mind,  if  need  be  by  whirlwinds  of  blood  and  death  before  the 
age  can  ever  see  or  dream  of  seeing  what  its  true  savior  is,  and 
forever  must  be  for  all  ages,  worlds  without  end  :  namely,  that  jus- 
tice and  truth,  clothed  with  poverty  and  mayhap,  covered  with 
blood,  must  save  us,  and  that  dives,  whether  in  the  plethoric 
pockets  of  mere  blatherskites  like  Ingersoll,  DePeugh,  Carnegie 
and  Wanamaker,  or  in  the  knavish  and  repeated  failures  and  ras- 
calities of  great  railroad  corporations  like  the  Philadelphia  & 
Heading  for  example, — or  in  the  embezzlements  and  universal 
scandals  of  bank-presidents  and  cashiers,  or  in  the  petty  robberies 
of  mere  stock  boomers  and  highwaymen,  never  had  been,  has  been 
or  can  be  anything  but  a  more  or  less  refined  manifestation  of  the 
volcanic  cinders  of  hell ;  and  finally,  by  way  of  explanation,  that 
all  this  had  to  be  and  has  to  be  made  plain,  not  by  anarchists, 
dynamiters,  boycotters,  charlatans,  cranks  and  strongminded 
female  reformers,  but  by  respectable  and  responsible,  law-abiding, 
standard,  consecrated,  honored  lives  and  literature.  To  this  work 
I  have  given  my  life ;  and  I  ask  you  to  be  patient  with  me,  my 
friends,  till  you  see  the  end. 

As  a  partial  promise,  however,  I  have  to  say  ;  that  such  work  as 
the  Ingersoll  article  in  the  last  Globe,  though  utterly  becoming 
the  subject,  was,  and  was  at  the  time  felt  by  me  to  be  utterly 
unworthy  the  dignity  of  The  Globe  audits  editor,  and  that  kind 
of  thing  shall  not  appear  in  The  Globe  again  ;  will  not,  in  fact, 
need  to  appear  again.  It  has  done  its  work  forever.  It  was  a 
cross  of  humiliation  that  I  felt  bound  to  endure,  and  inside  of  ten 


398  THE  GLOBE. 

years — unless  he  repents — the  man  Ingersoll  will  be  held  in  such 
universal  contempt  in  this  land — spite  of  its  corruption — that  a 
Burns  society  or  a  Lincoln  Club  would  as  soon  think  of  inviting 
Judas  Iscariot  to  come  from  perdition  and  orate  to  them  as  to 
think  of  calling  Robert  Ingersoll  to  that  honor.  Toward  Ingersoll 
himself  I  have  only  the  kindest  of  feelings,  with  a  certain  admira- 
tion for  his  claptrap  smartness.  But  for  years  he  has  been  making 
sport  of  the  sacredest  things  and  beings  in  this  universe.  It  is 
time  that  every  man  who  loves  God  and  truth  should  make  sport 
of  Ingersoll. 

Indirectly,  and  in  a  sort  of  roundabout  way,  it  has  come  to  my 
knowledge  that  certain  Catholics  of  the  fossil  and  platitude  family 
are  intimating  that  the  articles  in  The  Globe,  though  admittedly 
entertaining,  hardly  treat  of  subjects  adapted  to  a  "Review."  Now 
I  have  a  very  definite  word  for  these  people  and  through  them,  for 
all  the  readers  of  The  Globe  ;  first,  that  this  matter  was  plainly 
stated  and  explained  in  the  earlier  numbers  of  The  Globe,  where  I 
emphasized  the  fact  that  with  malice  aforethought  and  with  the 
most  calm  and  determined  purpose  The  Globe  Review  never 
would  copy  after  the  old-fashioned  reviews  of  the  old  world 
or  the  new  ;  that  while  it  would  treat  literature  in  all  seriousness, 
and  make  it  the  leading  theme  of  its  considerations,  it  would  treat 
literature  as  a  living  and  not  as  a  mechanic  or  dead  thing ;  that  It 
would  avoid  utterly  and  absolutely  the  dry-as-dust-methods  of 
treating  books  and  literary  subjects ;  and  instead  of  this  old 
method,  work  into  its  articles  all  the  spice  and  fire  and  freedom 
and  flash  of  thought  that  literature,  as  a  living,  burning  question 
and  element  of  modern  life  deserves. 

I  do  not  ask  or  expect  the  fossil  and  platitude  critics  of  Catholic 
or  Protestant  literature  to  agree  with  me  in  this,  or  to  approve  and 
commend  my  course.  If  they  were  wide-awake  enough  to  do  that 
they  would  soon  be  wide-awake  enough  to  produce  matter  like  my 
own,  and  would  proceed  at  once  to  do  so.  In  truth  I  expect  them 
to  disagree  with  me — am  glad  of  their  disapproval  and  am  quite 
willing  that  they  should  go  on  in  their  old  fossil  and  platitude  and 
hide-bound  and  timid  and  slavish  way  with  their  own  work  as  they 
have  been  doin^  without  serious  effect  these  many  years  ;  in  truth  I 
have  a  certain  admiration  for  their  ways  ;  far  greater  than  they  have 
for  my  ways  ;  but  the  living  men  and  women   of  this  age  do  not 


QLODE  NOTES.  899 

read  their  platitudes,and  as  I  am  editing  a  review  for  the  people  to 
read  and  enjoy  and  be  inspired  by  I  naturally  do  not  follow  the 
dry-as-dust-platitude  methods.  Above  all  I  want  these  fossils  to 
know  that  The  Globe  is  not  like  their  ideals,  because  the  editor  of 
The  Globe  does  not  know  how  to  do  work  like  theirs,  or  to  get  it 
done  by  the  cart  load,  free,  but  because  the  editor  of  The  Globe 
from  its  first  issue  until  now  has  been  resolved  to  avoid  the  dry-as- 
dust  and  platitude  style  and  to  speak  his  living  thought  in  such 
living  words  that  all  classes  of  men  and  women  can  read,  enjoy 
and  understand. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however.  The  Globe  from  its  first  number 
until  its  last  has  been  a  more  condensed,  careful,  far  reaching 
review  of  the  subjects  it  claims  to  treat  than  any  other  review  pub- 
lished in  the  English  language  during  these  past  three  or  four 
years.  And  I  appeal  from  fossil  Philip  drunk,  and  saturated  with 
platitudes,  to  Philip  sober,  with  his  wits  sharpened,  in  the  future 
when  I  am  dead  and  gone.  In  a  word,  I  am  not  publishing  a 
review  for  fossils  and  cranks.  Catholics  or  Protestants,  much  less 
for  slaves  and  hypocrites,  and  I  do  not  ask  or  expect  their  approval. 
They  may  well  thank  their  stars  if  I  let  them  alone  and  do  not 
expose  their  poor  fossil  platitudism.  Again,  I  have  learned 
with  regret  that  certain  critics,  of  the  very  small  calibre  species, 
have  expressed  surprise  that  The  Globe  should  have  published  an 
article  by  Mr.  Snell  after  he  had  made  the  unfortunate  domestic 
step  which  led  to  his  excommunication  from  the  Church.  To  this 
I  have  to  say,  and  am  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  saying,  that  the 
article  by  Mr,  Snell  in  No.  XI  of  The  Globe  and  his  article  in  this 
number  were  both  written  and  sent  to  me  while  Mr.  Snell  was  a 
member  of  the  Church  in  good  standing ;  that  the  articles  certainly 
did  not  freeze,  or  become  heretical,  or  contract  cholera  or  any 
other  contagious  disease  on  the  way  ;  that  they  were  plainly  written 
in  a  spirit  of  beautiful  and  true  loyalty  to  the  Church  ;  that  they 
do  not  treat  of  Catholic  dogma ;  that  they  are  scholarly  and  able 
articles,  treating  of  subjects  that  thousands  of  The  Globe's  readers, 
Protestant  and  Catholic,  are  interested  in  ;  that  through  private 
communications  from  Mr.  Snell  since  his  excommunication  I  know 
that  at  heart  he  still  is  and  desires  to  be  loyal  to  the  Church,  that 
my  hopes  and  prayers  are  that  he  will  yet  find  a  way  to  return  to 
the  true  fold  of  God;  that  The  Globe  is  a  literary,  not  a  dogmatic 
review,  as  I  have  before  stated,  and  finally,  that  from  my  standpoint, 


400  THE  GLOBE. 

that  utter  lack  of  Christian  charity  which  will  at  once  pounce  upon 
a  man  and  try  to  damn  him  and  belittle  his  ability,  and  pick  holes 
in  his  work  when  that  work  is  clearly  and  avowedly  on  the  side  of 
Christian  and  Catholic  truth,  simply  because  of  an  error  of  judg- 
ment based  upon  an  unfortunate  affection  of  the  heart,  is  a  lower 
and  more  dangerous  phase  of  infidelity  to  Christ  than  is  the  bold 
atheism  of  Bob  Ingersoll ;  and  while  my  independent  judgment, 
my  heart  and  my  conscience  all  approve  of  and  accept  the  final 
rulings  of  the  church  as  final  and  infallible,  and  while  I  would  joy- 
fully accept  those  rulings  in  my  own  case  and  accept  them  in  the 
case  of  others  as  final,  even  if  I  did  not  individually  and  at  that 
moment  approve  of  them,  I  view  only  with  pity  and  sorrow  that 
tendency  on  the  part  of  Catholic  and  Protestant  people  to  jump 
upon  a  man  when  he  is  down  and  because  he  is  down.  Finally 
that  if  the  critics  of  Mr.  Snell  or  of  my  action  in  publishing  his 
excellent  articles  will  only  write  anything  half  as  good  as  his 
instead  of  wasting  their  petty  faultfinding  on  the  air  of  history 
already  tainted  with  such  stuff,  I  will  most  gladly  publish  their 
work  in  The  Globe  and  so  help  them  to  a  better  life  and  a  higher 
reputation. 

And  if  I  know  anything  of  the  signs  of  the  times  and  of  the 
demands  of  the  higher  Christian  life,  Catholics  everywhere,  in 
these  days  need  to  add  to  the  beautiful  and  perfect  Catholicity  of 
their  dogma  the  diviner  Catholicity  of  Christlike  and  Apostolic 
charity  toward  one  another  and  toward  all  pure-minded  people 
throughout  the  world.  And  again  I  say  I  am  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity thus  forced  upon  me,  of  saying  that  as  I  read  history  this 
battle  is  the  last  great  world  battle,  the  last  great  world 
drama  of  the  soul  to  be  played,  the  last  great  world  vic- 
tory for  the  Church  to  win  before  entering  upon  the  world- 
wide freedom  of  the  human  race  which  is  at  once  to  be  the 
supreme  victory  of  Christ  and  His  Church  and  the  safety  and 
glory  of  the  human  soul.  And  that  before  and  in  possession  of 
such  thoughts  as  these  it  is  of  little  moment  to  me  what  mere 
fossil  critics  in  general  think  of  me  or  the  articles  I  admit  to  the 
pages  of  The  Globe  Eeview.  In  a  word  and  finally  I  have  a  bap- 
tism to  be  baptized  with  and  a  work  to  do  that  oblige  me  to  take 
small  notice  of  the  petty  faultfindings  and  the  petty  jealousies  of 
such  petty  and  pitiable  men. 


GLOBE  NOTES.  401 

The  prosperity  of  The  Globe  continues  unabated,  and  one  of 
the  most  encouraging  among  recent  words  was  a  letter  from  a  priest 
who  said  he  would  take  The  Globe  just  as  freely  if  the  editor  were 
a  Quaker.  I  hope  this  may  encourage  some  of  my  Quaker  friends 
to  get  the  spirit  to  move  them  a  little  toward  a  freer  and  fuller 
utterance  of  their  own  testimony  against  the  crimes  of  these  days. 
The  hearts  and  ears  of  men  are  waiting,  longing  for  a  deluge  of 
condemnation  of  the  real  iniquities  of  the  times  ;  and,  in  many 
ways  to  be  pointed  out  in  our  next  issue,  the  Church  seems  to  be 
waking  anew  to  her  immortal  mission  of  salvation. 

Every  day  since  the  last  issue  of  The  Globe  letters  and 
notices,  precisely  in  the  spirit,  of  the  brief  extracts  published  in 
that  issue,  have  been  coming  to  this  office,  making  a  total  of 
beautiful  brotherly  voices  of  appreciation  and  encouragement 
from  all  parts  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  England,  and  far-off 
Australia,  such  as  few  men  have  ever  received,  and  for  which  I 
am  moved  in  these  closing  notes  of  this  the  third  volume  of  The 
Globe  to  express  my  tenderest  and  still  unutterable  gratitude, 
affection  and  fraternal  loyalty  to  all  that  is  Catholic  and  human 
and  true  in  the  Church,  and  in  the  broad  and  generous  heart  of 
the  race. 

As  a  new  type  of  these  more  recent  communications,  I  give  an 
extract  from  a  letter  received  from  Archbishop  Redwood  of  Well- 
ington, New  Zealand,  just  after  the  January  to  April  Globe  had 
gone  to  press. 

St.  Mary's  Cathedral,  Wellington,  New  Zealand,  Dec.  23,  1892. 
Mr.  William  Henry  Thorne,  Editor  of  Globe  Review  : 

Dear  Sir  :  Last  mail  brought  me  the  October  number  of  The 
Globe.  *  *  *  Well,  I  don't  know  when  I  have  read,  or  rather 
devoured,  anything  with  such  thorough  gusto.  *  *  *  ^jjo^^- 
me,  sir,  to  add  my  feeble  tribute  to  your  merits  as  a  writer  which 
are,  or  soon  will  be  worldwide.  You  promised  much  when  you 
undertook  your  great  task,  and  you  have  nobly  and  completely 
fulfilled  your  promise.  Your  Review  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
ablest  in  the  English  language.  Your  matter  is  most  suggestive 
and  thought  stirring,  and  your  style — it  has  every  quality  suited 
to  your  purpose.  Such  clear,  pure,  trenchant,  natural,  powerful, 
and  downright  masterful  English  it  has  rarely  been  my  pleasure 
to  read.  Your  pen  is  a  great  power — may  God  bo  blessed  for  giv- 
ing it  to  you,  together  with  the  admirable  light  of  the  true  faith. 


402  THE  GLOBE. 

and  may  He  long  preserve  you  to  use  it  triumphantly  for  His 
cause  especially  at  this  time  when  that  cause  so  much  needs  clear- 
headed, able,  outspoken  and  fearless  champions. 

Put   me   down  as  a  subscriber  and     *     ♦     *     *     Believe  me, 
dear  sir,  Yours  truly, 

EBA.NCIS  Redwood,  S.  M, 

Archbishop  of  Wellington. 
Words  of  this  character  are  coming  constantly,  not  alone  from 
men  of  culture  and  of  high  position  in  the  church.  Catholic 
priests  and  Catholic  and  Protestant  laymen  and  women,  by  the 
hundred,  are  just  as  generous  in  their  words  of  approval  and  of 
praise.  In  view  of  such  blessed  ministry  I  should  be  the  most 
inhuman  and  ungrateful  of  men,  were  I  to  step  aside,  as  at 
moments  I  have  been  tempted  to  do,  to  reply  to  the  few  poor, 
cringing  and  suspicious  souls  who,  in  a  sort  of  patronizing  hypoc- 
risy, have  by  tongue  and  pen  and  conduct  tried  to  misrepresent 
and  injure  me  and  the  work  I  am  trying  to  do.  Rather  let  me 
say  here,  even  to  these,  that  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  Christ  who 
has  died  for  us,  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  and  holy  Church  on  whose 
broad  bosom  of  love  and  wisdom  we  all  rest,  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  kindness  I  know  that  even  my  enemies  would  feel  for  me  if 
they  understood,  and  for  the  sake  of  all  the  dear  martyrs  of 
immortal  love,  I  feel  only  kindness  even  to  my  foes. 

I  do  not  claim  omniscience  or  perfection,  but  am  I  not  trying 
to  do  a  work  that  all  good  men  should  approve  ?  And  would  I  do 
it  or  dare  to  try  to  do  it,  if  I  had  not  suffered  for  the  truth  as  few 
men  are  willing  to  suffer  ? 

It  is  natural  to  resent  suspicion  and  to  pay  it  back  in  its  own 
coin.  It  is  natural  to  resent  injustice  and  to  expose  the  cloven 
hoof  of  an  enemy.  It  is  natural  to  feel  exalted  by  exalted  posi- 
tions and  the  honors  of  exalted  approval. 

But  before  heaven,  I  say  to  the  readers  of  The  Globe,  I  am 
not  living  to  indulge  these  natural  desires. 

It  is  natural,  even  for  the  added  influence  it  gives,  to  parade 
the  dignity  of  one's  position,  but  before  heaven  I  say  to  the 
readers  of  The  Globe  I  have  not  time  to  give  thought  to  these 
things.  In  a  word,  to  me,  clear  as  the  sunburst  of  a  cloudless 
dawn,  the  spirit  of  Christ,  the  spirit  of  immortal  charity,  yea,  the 
spirit  of  supremest  wisdom,  and  the  utmost,  consummate  reaches 
of  spiritual  power  are  not  only  contrary  to  these  things,  but  infi- 


GLOBE  NOTES.  408 

nitely  superior  to  them,  and  by  their  own  gentle,  subtle,  immortal 
energy  of  conquest  are  forever  sure  to  win  without  them. 

I  do  not  claim  at  all  moments  to  live  this  perfect  life  of 
charity,  but  it  is  my  one,  my  only  ideal,  and  I  try  to  live  it,  try  to 
write  it.  It  marks  the  law  of  my  existence,  and  sure  as  heaven  is 
heaven,  and  God  is  God,  it  is  the  only  ideal  worthy  of  human 
ambition,  and  is  the  only  power  that  always  wins. 

Even  in  this,  my  enemies  will  misunderstand  me,  but  to  them, 
in  farewell,  be  they  Protestant  or  Catholic,  I  say,  give  all  your 
powers  for  one  year  or  one  day,  or  one  perfect  hour  to  the  ideal 
of  perfect  charity,  and  every  dogma,  much  more  every  bigotry 
and  falsehood  and  vice  and  crime  will  seem  to  you  as  idle  tales 
and  the  mere  cinders  of  a  burnt-out  past  existence. 

Thanks  dear,  dear  friends  for  all  your  kind  words  and  encour- 
agement, and  could  I  open  my  heart  and  show  you  the  peace 
that  has  come  to  me  in  the  past  year,  and  show  you  how,  in  my 
ofiQce,  in  my  rooms,  and  in  my  teachings  at  the  college,  and  in  all 
my  intercourse  with  men,  I  am  ever  consciously  grateful  for  this 
peace,  and  what  an  unutterable  tenderness  of  fraternal  regard  I 
feel  for  all  true  Catholic  souls ;  much  more  could  I  show  you  the 
labors  and  cares  still  endured  in  order  to  keep  the  work  of  the 
Globe  before  the  world,  I  am  sure  that  some  harsh  notes  that 
come  to  me  would  have  a  milder  and  a  sweeter  tone,  and  that  we 
should  better  understand  each  other  in  the  mellow  light  of  that 
immortal  love  which  alone  is  master  of  the  world. 

W.  H.  Thorne. 


P.  S. — I  havejwondered  a  good  deal  just  how  The  Globe  ought 
to  treat  our  great  Columbian  Exposition.  It  is  certainly  to  be  the 
greatest  show  on  earth.  No  words  of  mine  can  adequately  describe 
the  energy  exerted  to  bring  it  to  its  present  state  of  forwardness  ; 
but  as  all  the  newspapers  and  all  the  illustrated  periodicals  have 
done  the  Exposition  over  and  over  again,  and  are  doing  it  still,  I 
have  concluded  to  wait  till  the  work  is  finished  and  the  exhibits 
in  position  ;  then,  if  it  should  seem  worth  while,  to  review  it  in  a 
kindly  but  cricital  mood. 

The  condition  of  my  health  demands  that  I  should  rest  awhile, 
and  it  is  possible  that  the  next  two  numbers  of  The  Globe  may 
issue  in  September  and  December  instead  of  August  and  Novem- 


404  THE  GLOBE. 

ber  ;  but  the  business  of  Tue  Globp:  goes  on  all  the  same  ;  each 
subscriber  will  receive  four  ^numbers  for  his  or  her  two  dollars 
subscription,  and  if  there  should  be  a  delay  of  a  mouth  in  the  next 
issue,  no  one,  I  am  sure,  will  complain.  Meanwhile  let  me  urge 
all  readers  of  this  number  who  have  not  yet  sent  in  their  subscrip- 
tions for  this  year,  to  do  so  without  further  delay. 

W.  H.  Thorne.  ^ 
716  Title  and  Trust  Building,  Chicago. 


THE  BLIZZARD. 

More  fatal  than  the  desert's  poisoned  breath, 
That  smote  Cambyses'  hosts  in  days  of  old, 

And  covered  all  the  land  of  Nile  with  death. 
Slaying  with  shafts  of  heat,  as  thou  with  cold  ! 

Not  idle  were  the  dreams  the  Tuscan  dreamed, 
That  torments  worse  than  e'en  the  flames  of  hell, 

Were  felt  where  fields  of  ice  forever  gleamed, 
And  hapless  ghosts  stark  froze  where'er  they  fell ! 


Though  storm  and  danger  linger  on  the  track, 
We  know  that  sunnier  days  will  come  again  ; 

Faith,  veiled  and  vague,  may  coyly  stand  aback. 
But  hope  comes  smiling  to  the  homes  of  men. 

The  Son  of  Man  was  born  at  such  a  time. 
The  sun  low-hanging  o'er  Judea's  plain, 

The  darkest  age  of  all  the  eastern  clime, 
Gave  birth  to  Light  that  ever  will  remain. 

Charles  F.  Finley. 


>^  w^ 


GLOBE,   The. 


1892-93 
V.  3. 


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