Part 4

Vaticination, if we are to believe George Eliot, is only one of the innumerable forms in which ignorance finds expression. In the olden time prophecy for the most part assumed a sombre guise, denunciatory of woe and wrath to come. In these latter days prophecy appears under the form of _taffy_, which, perhaps, is indispensable for a generation whose religious emotions find adequate musical expression in that popular hymn, "The _Sweet_ Bye and Bye"--heaven being apparently a sort of candy-shop on a large scale. Artemus Ward's famous advice, "Do not prophesy until _after_ the event," is scarcely applicable to modern prophets, inasmuch as the fulfilment of their predictions is not at all necessary to their character and standing, unless, of course, they should chance to be weather prophets.

The modern prophet dearly loves to take up some dominant idea of his time, of such vastness and hazy indistinctness, as will afford ample room and verge enough for his wildest speculations, and allow him to disport at will within its undefined limits. An idea of this kind is that which appertains to the progress of the species of humanity. With this for his theme, the modern prophet, whether in the guise of a popular lecturer, or masquerading as a writer in the current literature of the day, rarely forgets, while weaving his rose-colored visions of the future, to indulge in a fling at the Catholic Church as the irreconcilable foe of progress in all its forms. Ask him what progress means, in what respect the Catholic Church is opposed to it--the answer will prove to be rather unsatisfactory. The constant cry of old Aristotle--"Define, Define," is to him the voice of one calling in the wilderness. If he ever read Cicero, it must have been in some expurgated edition, "_Pueris Virginibusque_," in which the following passage found no place: "_Omnis quæ ratione suscipitur de aliqua re institutio debet a definitione proficisi, ut intelligatur quid sit id de quo disputetur._" _De offic._, 1, 2. The prophet of progress has an instinctive dread of the bull-dog grip of a definition, and will not readily run the risk of being pinned to the ground, and perhaps rolled over in the dust. And yet the chief cause of controversy, of the heat with which it is carried on, and its customary lack of decisive results, lies in the fact that the disputants do not attach a definite meaning to words, and do not understand them in the same sense.

I.

Progress means "motion forward." This supposes a starting-point and a definite end or goal. Without these two requisites there may be motion, but no progress. Now there is such a thing as "progress" in the life of individuals and of nations. Indeed, the magic of this word "progress," its power to sway the minds of men, goes to show that the conception rests on some underlying basis of truth. A lie pure and simple has no such power. It must clothe itself in the garb of truth if it would win converts and adherents.

The very life that throbs within us impels to progress, for all life is but a motion and a striving towards a destined end, and implies the growth and development of all our faculties to the full perfection of their being. Death alone is a resting and a standing still.

This visible nature around us pulsates with the spirit of life and progress. The stars wheel onward in the courses marked out for them by their Creator. The interior of the earth is heaving and palpitating with a hidden life of its own, which is ever manifested in richer fulness and strength, in higher and more perfect forms. Nay, the very stone that seems so motionless, the inert metal in the bowels of the earth, comes under the influence of this universal law of life and progress. And what is this but the creative breath of God streaming through the universe, and ever shaping it into new and diverse forms of life?

But this law of progress under which the physical universe lies, affects man likewise in a manner worthy of him as the crowning masterpiece of creation. So essentially is progress a law of our being that while material things, in the process of their development, cannot overstep the limits marked out for them, man is called upon to progress even beyond the limits of his nature. God Himself, in all His greatness and Holiness, is the exalted ideal towards which all our aspirations should tend. "Be ye perfect as my Heavenly Father is perfect."

Nay, more: not alone is progress a law of man's being; it is a positive duty and command which he is obliged to fulfil. And herein lies another point of difference between the laws of progress, which are stamped into the nature of man, and those we perceive operating in the visible world around us. In nature no backward steps are possible. Every object in the physical universe, in its growth and development, moves within the fixed, unchanging limits of law which God has marked out for it. As a consequence, there is no falling back in the world of nature from a higher to a lower type of existence. The plant ever remains a plant; the mineral ever remains a mineral. But in the case of man, he cannot stand still--he can only retrograde, sink beneath his own level, if he does not continually move forward, in order, by degrees, to reach the supreme end and aim of his existence. Thus does the Catholic Church not alone recognize progress as a great law of our being; she insists upon it, as a divine duty which we are obliged to fulfil.

II.

From these preliminary remarks, it will be seen that those who charge the Catholic Church with being opposed to progress, must mean _material_ progress; that is, a larger knowledge of the laws of the physical universe, and a wider diffusion and application of the various arts and contrivances which minister to the comforts and conveniences of man's earthly existence, leaving out of account altogether the moral and spiritual advancement of humanity.

To all such it will be enough to observe: the Catholic Church is not opposed to progress in the material order of things. She places no hindrance to the exercise of man's inventive faculties. But above and beyond the highest material progress, above and beyond railroads and telegraphs, steam-engines, and cannons and iron-clads, she places the moral and spiritual progress of the human race. She will never cease to maintain that though railroads and telegraphs girdle the earth a hundred times over, and the telephones penetrate into every private dwelling; though the sails of a nation's commerce whiten every sea, and the face of the land be covered with the most varied and prosperous industries--man will be none the happier, society none the more peaceful and durable when not leavened by the spirit of Christian truth and Christian morality. At every new invention men cry aloud in tones of triumph: See how humanity is advancing; see what victories mind is daily gaining over matter; and dazzled by the splendor of their progress in the material order of things, come to think that therein lies the end of their existence, the supreme aim of all human exertion. To all such the church simply observes: Labor and strive to make what progress you can in art and science, in commerce and industry, in every department of human enterprise and activity: and when you have travelled over the whole field, have exhausted all your resources, and reached the farthest limits of your power, I say to you: You have not progressed far enough. A far nobler and higher ideal is yours. You are born to be a child of God, to bring out into utmost clearness and distinctness the likeness of God that is stamped on your soul, and develop into the full-grown man, "to the measure of the stature and the fulness of Christ." Thus, as regards the higher order of progress, the Catholic Church is in advance of her age. "Excelsior" is the motto emblazoned on her flag.

It is no difficult task for the mere theorist to sketch out, in the domain of religion or politics, systems ideally perfect, serenely ignoring in their application such disturbing elements as the vices and frailties incident to a fallen humanity. But the practical man of affairs who has to deal, not with abstractions, but with the concrete realities of life, soon, alas! perceives that such a dazzling formula, for example, as that of the French republicans, "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," can be realized on earth by revolutionizing, not only political institutions, but the very nature of man himself. Humanity is a mere empty abstraction, except in so far as we conceive it as composed of individuals. Society is a mere aggregate of individuals. Except to your modern prophet, it is difficult to conceive how there can be progress in society without progress among the individuals who go to compose that society.

Each individual may be viewed, under a threefold aspect: in his relations to himself, to the family, and to the society of which he is a member. Now all progress which deserves the name must make for the well-being and advancement of the individual in these threefold relations of life.

This the Catholic Church claims to do. On the first page of the catechism which she places in the hands of the little child is a decisive, authoritative answer to the heart-piercing cry of modern doubt: "Whence, and great heavens, whither?" She exhorts to the practice of those virtues which alone beget true peace and contentment of mind--to temperance, purity, honesty, self-control, love of God and our neighbor. She claims, furthermore, to be the sole depository and dispenser of these spiritual aids, without which the practice of these virtues is impossible, and without which man can never attain the end of his existence.

The church has blest and sanctified the family relation as the fundamental element in the structure of human society. She is the only institution now in the world which upholds the unity and indissolubility of the marriage tie. She has uplifted woman from the mire of degradation into which paganism had dragged her, has made her the equal, instead of being the slave of man. She counsels mutual love, trust and fidelity, as between husband and wife, and reminds them of their common responsibility in training their offspring in the ways of truth and virtue. She exhorts children to the duties of love, reverence, obedience towards their parents.

She tells the citizen that he owes a strict, conscientious obedience to the laws of the realm, a willing allegiance to the lawfully constituted government under which he lives. She reminds rulers that they have no power except in so far as it has been given to them from above; that they are responsible to the Most High for the use they make of that power; that their authority must be exercised in a spirit of justice, moderation, and regard for the interests of those over whom they are placed; and that, finally, in the sight of God, they are of no more account than the lowliest of their subjects.

This doctrine of the equality of men before God is the fruitful principle which flung forth into the seed-field of time has developed into the kindred doctrine which asserts the equality of all men before the law. The assertion and application of this principle it was which enabled the Church to abolish slavery in Europe, not indeed by the effusion of blood and treasure, but by the calm, winning influence of her persuasiveness and her example. In truth, it may be said that the history of the Catholic Church is the history of human progress on earth. From the day when she stepped down from the little chamber in Jerusalem into the public squares of the city, and took society by the hand to lift it out of the corruption into which paganism had dragged it, dates the first step in the true progress of human society.

III.

But, unhappily, in these latter days certain elements have been imported into men's conceptions of progress, of which the Catholic Church is the stern and uncompromising foe. In so far as the advocates of modern progress aim at the destruction of those Christian principles of conduct which should influence the individual man in his relations to himself, to the family, and to the State, they may expect unceasing opposition from the Catholic Church.

In some respects the Church does not consider modern progress, so-called, as progress in the true sense of the word, but rather a retrograde movement--a relapse into the moral corruption, the political and social degradation of ancient paganism. When a man finds himself moving forward at a rapid pace along a road which he discovers to be a wrong one, he is only moving farther away from the end of his journey; he cannot be said to be making progress. Or, when a man is sick of a deadly disease, which is rapidly gaining ground, it cannot be said that he is progressing, since such progress leads to death, not life.

In certain European countries at the present day, advocates of progress insist that the Church should adapt herself to the spirit of the age, and would fain transform her into a mere creature of the civil government, a sort of moral police under its pay and control, or to use the illustration of Cardinal Newman, employ her as a pet jackdaw, useful for picking up the grubs and worms on its master's trim, smooth-shaven lawn.

The Church, however, will not surrender her independence, nor will she change her doctrines to suit the shifting, fallible opinions of men. Her mission is to hold pure from all taint of error, and transmit unimpaired to future generations the word of her master: "Guard that which is entrusted to thee, turning away from the profane babblings and oppositions of knowledge falsely so called."

The Church is opposed to modern progress in so far as it seeks to rob Christian marriage of its sacramental character, and reduce it to the level of a mere contract, which may be dissolved at the will of the contracting parties.

She is opposed to the divorce of religion from education, holding that the development of man's moral and intellectual nature, should go hand in hand. Indeed, among ourselves of late, many serious-minded persons seem to be coming round to the Church's way of thinking on this important matter. They are exerting themselves to find some substitute for religion in the moral training of children, and profess to have discovered it in a knowledge of the elements of physiology. A text-book of this science, which will clearly impress on the youthful mind the dire fattening qualities of alcohol is the _unum necessarium_. It is fondly hoped that the natural horror which one experiences at the thought of an accumulation of adipose tissue in the intestines will be quite sufficient to deter the rising generation from the use of alcoholic stimulants.

This, however, is only taking a limited view of the matter, for humanity may be conceived as divided into two classes, the fat and the lean. This latter class constitutes a large percentage of the world's population; and in their case the temptation is great of falling back on alcohol as an excellent substitute for padding, forswearing thin potations and addicting themselves to sack.

Furthermore men of science inform us that, owing to the conditions of our environment, climatic and otherwise, there is a tendency among Americans, after a few generations, to develop into a type of man, similar to the Red Indian, tall, muscular, gaunt. If this is so, have we not cause to apprehend the universal use of alcohol as a means of counteracting such a deplorable tendency. We respectfully refer these considerations to the serious attention of those who would place the science of morals on a physiological basis.

Finally then, the only progress which the Catholic Church upholds is that which rests on the foundations, everlasting and unchanging as adamant, of Christian truth and Christian morality. A fair and goodly tree, the higher it grows, the more widely it expands, the deeper must it cast its roots into the ground, if it would not come toppling down and cumber the earth. So must the roots of modern progress strike themselves more and more deeply into the soil of the Christian virtues, that its fine growth of material well-being may not drag down the fair tree, and only serve to hasten its speedy disappearance in corruption and death.

J. C.

Give Charity While You Live.

_Lake Shore Visitor_:--The many men and women who leave large bequests to religion and to charity do in a certain sense some good. Their means thus disposed of may feed the hungry and bring the erring to a sense of duty. But generally speaking means thus left are not as well husbanded as if they were spent by the testator himself. It is given in a bulk and the legatee not having been put to the trouble and pains of earning the legacy dollar for dollar soon lets the specie fly. It came easy and is very apt to go the same way. It is not necessary for the charitably inclined to wait until the message comes in order to perform an act of charity. We are told that the "poor we always have with us." The orphan may be found in every city and town, and orphanages and hospitals exist in every city. To be really disinterested in our charity, we should give while in health. While giving thus we are making a sacrifice, and plainly proving that our hearts are not very strongly set on the goods of this world. To give when that which we give is about to be snatched away from us is certainly not giving with the hope of obtaining a very great reward. Looking after our own donations would make them more profitable to the cause of good, and giving when we are in health and strength is making a sacrifice that without doubt will meet a reward.

Emmet's Rebellion.

At the time when the plans of the United Irishmen were slowly ripening toward revolution, and when Wolfe Tone and Edward Fitzgerald still believed in the immediate regeneration of their country, there were two young men in Dublin University--close personal friends--who were watching with peculiar interest the progress of events. Both were exceptionally gifted young men, and both were destined to leave behind them names that will live forever in the history of the Irish nation. One was Thomas Moore; the other, his junior by a year and his senior by one class in the University, was Robert Emmet.

It was especially natural that two such young men should take the keenest interest in the national movement that was going on about them. It was a movement calculated to attract all the generous and impassioned impulses of youth. Both Moore and Emmet were profoundly ambitious for their nation's welfare; both of them, we may well assume, felt conscious of the possession of abilities beyond the average; and both were animated by a desire to be of active service to their people. The desire, however, which led Moore to become the poetical voice of Ireland's aspirations and regrets, urged Emmet into directer and more decided action. Emmet was a brother of Thomas Addis Emmet. He was, therefore, closely in connection with the revolutionary movement, and did all that lay in his power to advance it by his speeches in the Debating Society and in the Historical Society of the College. Political speeches were, of course, forbidden in such bodies as these two societies; but Emmet always contrived to introduce into his utterances upon any of the themes set down for debate some burning words which those who listened to him, and loved him, could readily interpret into justification of the United Irishmen, and encouragement of their efforts.

Between the young orator and the young poet the closest friendship and affection existed. The genius of Moore was naturally captivated by the pure and lofty enthusiasm of Robert Emmet; and it is almost surprising that under the circumstances Moore did not become more deeply involved in the conspiracy that spread all around him. Moore had not, however, the nature of the conspirator, or of the very active politician. He was called upon to do other work in this world, and he did that work so worthily that we may well forgive him for having been so little of a rebel at a time when rebellion was the duty of every Irishman. Moore tells a touching little story of himself and of his friend, which, in itself, exemplifies the different natures of the two young men. Moore had become possessed of that precious volume in which the labors of Mr. Bunting had collected so much of the national music of Ireland; and he delighted in passing long hours in playing over to himself the airs which he was destined later on to make so famous by his verses. Emmet often sat by him while he played, and Moore records how, one evening, just as he finished playing that spirited tune called "The Red Fox," Emmet sprang up from a reverie, and exclaimed, "Oh, that I were at the head of twenty thousand men marching to that air!" The air which awakened in Emmet the gallant hope, which he was never destined to see realized, had probably started in the brain of Moore dim memories of the lost glories of Ireland; of the Knights of the Red Branch, of Malichi with the gold torque, and of the buried city of Lough Neagh. The music which Emmet had desired to hear as the marching song of victory is familiar to every Irishman as "Let Erin Remember the Days of Old." "How little did I think," said the poet, "that in one of the most touching of the sweet airs I used to play to him, his own dying words would find an interpreter so worthy of their sad but proud feelings; or that another of those mournful strains would long be associated in the hearts of his countrymen with the memory of her who shared with Ireland his last blessing and prayer." Ninety-eight had come and gone like a dream. The leaders of the United Irishmen were dead, in exile, or hiding from the law. The Irish parliament had passed from existence, and the hated union with England had become an accomplished fact. The promises of the British minister, which had done so much to facilitate the passing of the Act of Union, had, of course, been shamefully violated.

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