CHAPTER V.

CONCLUSION.

Not all the doings of the Catholic conventions deserve our approbation, nor is all that is said there worthy of praise. At the sixteen general conventions held since 1848, many absurd and trifling measures have been proposed. Silence is a virtue unknown to many delegates, and conciseness is a quality not to be found in the remarks of many a speaker. These gentlemen should remember the wise old saw, "_Ne quid nimis_," especially when about to address an assembly. Braggadocio should be mercilessly put down. Some persons there are who every year regale the convention with the self-same concretions; others speak when there is no occasion whatever for opening their mouths; whilst others again are unacquainted with parliamentary rules, and cannot clothe their ideas in suitable language. Many a speaker has been carried away by his enthusiasm, and exposed himself to ridicule; others were mercilessly hooted from the tribune; whilst not a few delivered productions which bore a strange resemblance to an _ignis fatuus_ or an over-done beefsteak. At Malines many words were wasted in mutual compliments, and there was a tendency in several of the orators to court applause by piquant and exaggerated expressions. We must expect that among several thousand delegates there will be many insignificant men, whose chief merit consists in opening now and then the floodgates of their trashy eloquence. Were I to permit myself to indulge in malicious remarks, I might enumerate a long list of singular characters, who were living examples of the faults in question.

For these and other reasons the duties of the presiding officer at the general conventions are by no means easy, still, thus far there has been no want of able presidents, and many of them were chosen from among the nobility. The following gentlemen were honored with this office: Chevalier von Buss; Count Joseph von Stolberg; Baron von Andlaff, who presided both at Linz and at Munich; Baron Wilderich von Ketteler, who was chosen chairman at Münster and at Frankfort; Maurice Lieber, who was elected president at Breslau and at Salzburg; Chevalier von Hartmann presided at Mayence; Count O'Donnell, of Vienna, at Linz and at Prague; Count Brandis, at Aix-la-Chapelle and Freiburg; Councillor Zell at Vienna; A. Reichensperger at Cologne; and Baron von Moy at Würzburg. Germany may justly be proud of these men--men of agreeable manners, distinguished not only by their social position but also by their literary taste and nobility of character, each of whom can boast of an honorable career.

It may not be inappropriate to mention in this place some of the noblemen who graced by their presence the Catholic conventions. Prominent among these were Don Miguel, duke of Braganza, and the young prince, Don Miguel, Prince Charles of Loewenstein-Werthheim, and Prince Charles of {527} Isenburg; Count von Hompesch, of Rurich, Count Augustus von Spee, of Heltorf, Count Schaesberg, Baron Felix von Leë, of Missen, Count Hoensbroich, and Baron von Halberg-Broich, of Aix-la-Chapelle, represented the Rhenish nobility; whilst Westphalia was represented by Count von Vischering, the Counts Max and Ferdinand von Galen, the Barons von Schorlemer, the Count von Stolberg, Baron von Twickel, Baron von Ketteler, Baron von Hereman, Baron von Oer, Baron von Drüffel, and others.

Of the Austrian nobles I shall mention Count von Migazzi, Baron von Mayerhofer, a field-marshal of the empire, Count Adolphus Lewis von Barth-Barthenheim, Count Maurice von Fries, Count Henry von Hoyos-Sprenzenstein. Count Henry von O'Donnell, Chevalier von Hartmann, Baron von Stillfried, of Salzburg, a very zealous and energetic man, and Count Frederick von Thun. Count von Thun was chosen vice-president at Würzburg, and delivered a speech. Tall and of a commanding figure, a thorough-bred nobleman, a diplomat well acquainted with the ways of the world, a man of refined manners, a Catholic distinguished by his living faith and his ardent love for the Church, as well as by his intimate knowledge of every shade of religious life, Count Thun appeared as the representative of the Austrian nobility, which, for the most part, is still animated by truly Catholic sentiments, and of the mighty empire, as a delegate from imperial Vienna, where Catholicity is daily acquiring new vigor, and as the bearer of an illustrious name, which reminds every Catholic of the concordat between Francis Joseph and the Pope, which has been so beneficial to the Church in its results. Among the German Church dignitaries Dr. Baudri, coadjutor-bishop of Cologne, is especially distinguished by his zeal for the success of the conventions, many of which he has opened by a glowing discourse. Archbishop Gregory and Bishop Ignatius, of Regensburg, spoke at Munich, and Bishop Wedekind, of Hildestein, at Aix-la-Chapelle. The apostolic words of Bishop von Stahl will always ring in the memory of his hearers. The Bishop of Limburg, Peter Joseph Blum, was represented at Frankfort by his vicar-general, Dr. Klein. Dr. Götz, dean of the cathedral at Würzburg, deserves great praise for his efficient arrangements at the last general convention. I may still notice Buchegger, vicar-general at Freiburg, Canon Broix, of Cologne, Krabbe, dean of the cathedral at Münster, Dean Schiedemayr, of Linz, Canon Wiery, of Salzburg, Canon Freund, of Passau, Schmitt, vicar-general at Bamberg, Abbot Mislin, of Groswardein, Provost Pelldram, of Berlin, Canon Henry Szajbely, of Gran, Abbot Michael von Fogarasy, of Grosswardein, Canon Michael Kubinsky, of Kalocza, Canon Dr. Molitor, of Spires, Canon Dr. Malkmus, of Fulda, Provost Nübel, of Soest, Dr. Stadler, dean of the Augsburg cathedral, Provost Kalliski, of Gnesen, Canon Büchinger, of Gratz, Strehle, of Freiburg, Dr. Häusle, of Vienna, and Müller, of Munich. The general conventions were also attended by Bishop Mermillot, of Geneva, one of the best pulpit orators in Europe, and by the Roman prelate, Monsignore Nardi, who is able to speak in four languages. The Catholic congresses were marked by several grand and imposing scenes. It was a glorious sight to behold 5,000 men, from every part of the known world, walk in procession to the cathedral of St. Rombau at Malines, but it was no less edifying to see hundreds of delegates making a pilgrimage from Salzburg to Maria Plain, and paying their devotions to the Mother of God. We can never forget the dedication of the column erected in honor of the Blessed Virgin, which took place at Cologne on the 8th of September, 1858, in presence of the whole congress. The enthusiastic welcome extended to the Bishop of Orleans at Malines defies all description, but the reception of the Hungarian prelates by the Viennese convention (Sept. 21, 22, 1853) was still more solemn. By {528} his speech delivered on the evening of Sept 2, 1864, Father Felix produced a profound impression. Döllinger, too, at the Munich convention in 1861, called forth a storm of applause by his well-known declarations. Unique in its kind was the scene in the Kaiser-saal at Aix-la-Chapelle already described. When, after the discourse of Father Felix on Sept 2, 1864, the Redemptorist father Dechamps, and the Carmelite, F. Hermann, weeping tears of joy, thankfully embraced the Jesuit, and a Belgian bishop, joining the group, shook hands with the three religious, no heart remained unmoved. At Würzburg, also, on the 14th Sept., 1864, a solemn, touching scene took place, which joined in bonds of the sincerest friendship the Catholic Hungarians and Germans. Von Majer, a Hungarian lawyer and land-owner, had charmed all of us; his manly and chivalrous appearance, the romantic costume of his country, and his able speech, did not fail to produce an overpowering effect; Vice-President Adams expressed the opinion of the assembly, and then followed cheer upon cheer for the noble Hungarian.

Now and then there appears a speaker who possesses the talent of a demagogue, and causes a great though transient sensation. A Tyrolese, Greuter, now a member of the Austrian "Reichsrath," is an orator whom I delight to hear; he spoke at Salzburg and Aix-la-Chapelle. At Würzburg, likewise, a speaker of the same class, Brummel, a lawyer of Baden, addressed the assembly. I transcribe an account of his speech, which I wrote at the time. "After F. Modeste had left the tribune, amid thundering applause, a tall, stately figure, betraying at once the military career of the speaker, took the floor. The hero who now confronts us fought at the side of Pimodan and La Moricière for the Holy Father; distinguished himself at Castelfidardo; took part in the defence of Ancona; and for six months was held a captive by the Piedmontese. It is Brummel, of Baden. His voice sounds like the clarion's shrill tones summoning an army to battle. His speech is a violent attack on the shameful abuses existing in Baden. He combines force of expression with warmth of feeling, unflinching bravery, and a burning hatred of everything base, with a childlike love for the Church and the truth. He was the Tancred in the crusade against the self-styled saviors of the people of Baden, and nobly did battle for the venerable and much persecuted Archbishop of Freiburg, Hermann von Vicari."

Having thus concluded these unpretending sketches, those of my readers who have been disappointed will indulgently consider that it was written to assist a Catholic congregation to build a church. But thus to extend the divine worship is more pleasing to the Almighty than to write a good book.

{529}

From The Literary Workman.

ST. ELIZABETH.

"Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it to me."

A shrill and joyous summons At Wartburg's postern rang. And lightly from his panting steed The princely Landgrave sprang. Comes forth his stately mother To meet him in her pride, But the quick glance of Louis seeks The sweet face of his bride.

Then scornful spoke the Landgravine, "Fair son, thy lady sweet Hath cares too urgent thus in haste Thy coming step to greet. Upon thy couch so stately, Within thy chamber fair, A vile and loathsome leper She tends with pious care."

A wrathful man was Louis, Yet not a word he said, But up the castle's echoing stair In quivering haste he sped-- Within her silent chamber, As o'er the couch she hung, Her lord's returning bugle Had all unheeded rung.

In silent ecstacy she knelt, Her heart so hushed in prayer. It thrilled not at his longed-for step, Now echoing on the stair. With hasty hand young Louis tore The coverlid aside-- The lifeless form before him lay Of Jesus crucified, Bleeding and pale, as in the hour When for our sins he died.

"See, mother, see the Leper She brings to be our guest, Whom only she prefers to me-- May his dear name be blest Elizabeth, sweet sister. Still bring such guests to me; Sinful and all unworthy I am of him and thee; Yet train me in thy patient love His guest in heaven to be."

---- {530}

From The Month.

DR. PUSEY ON THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.

It is just twenty years since the great movement in the Anglican Church, which took its rise and its name from the University of Oxford and the "Tracts for the Times," was broken, as it were, into two streams of very different direction by the submission of Mr. Newman to the Catholic Church. It happens that the circumstances of the last year and a half have brought the history of the movement prominently before the world; and they have occasioned an interesting set of publications from men of eminent position, whose names were at the time hardly less watchwords than at present. No one of the few most conspicuous Oxford leaders of thought who belonged in any sense to the Tractarian party has yet been removed by death. Dr. Pusey is still at Christ Church, Mr. Keble still at Hursley; but Mr. Newman has become the founder of the English Oratory of St. Philip Neri, and Archdeacon Manning is the present Catholic archbishop of Westminster. These four names were more than any others in the mouths of the adherents of the Oxford movement twenty years ago. Archdeacon Wilberforce lived in the country, and had, we believe, hardly begun to publish that series of theological treatises which soon after made his name second to none in the Anglican Church as a writer on doctrine: Isaac Williams, loved and venerated by all who knew him, had left Trinity and was occupied on his "Commentary on the Gospels" without taking any further part in the movement: the influence of Charles Marriott was hardly felt except by his immediate acquaintance. There were of course others whose position--such as that of Mr. Oakeley and Mr. Dodsworth in London --gave them much influence in particular places; but, speaking broadly, and without reference to the actual connection of individuals with the "Tracts"--in which, we think, Archdeacon Manning took no part at all--the four names we have just mentioned might be said to constitute the High-Church Quadrilateral. It must be remembered, moreover, that among the Anglicans, whose church had at that time not even so much liberty to speak in convocation as has since been allowed to it, and whose bishops were probably unanimous in nothing except in suspicion of Tractarianism, personal influence went for far more than is ever the case among Catholics. Whether they liked it or not, the position and responsibilities of party leaders were thrust upon the persons we have named; veneration and confidence haunted them, and their words were made into oracles. A little later than the time of which we are speaking, an enthusiastic admirer--now a colonial bishop--dedicated a volume of sermons to the three first, under the name of the three valiant men of David's band, who had broken through the ranks of the enemy to fetch water from the well of Bethlehem, the fountain of ancient doctrine; one of the three, he plaintively added in his dedication, was taken prisoner by the enemy in the attempt! This was after the submission of Dr. Newman.

Recent circumstances, as we have said, have drawn from three of these four distinguished persons declarations of opinion and feeling with regard to the Anglican establishment which it may well be worth while to place {531} side by side. The first in point Of time was Dr. Newman, in his celebrated "_Apologia pro Vita suâ_," in the appendix to which he had occasion to speak his mind about Anglicanism. The passage will be fresh in the memories of most of our readers; and it has been preserved as part of a note in the second edition of the "Apologia" lately published by Dr. Newman as the "History of my Religions Opinions." It contains, as a passage from Dr. Newman was sure to do, most that can be said for or against the establishment in the happiest words:

"When I looked back upon the poor Anglican Church" [after becoming acquainted with Catholicism], "for which I had labored so hard, and upon all that appertained to it, and thought of our various attempts to dress it up doctrinally and aesthetically, it seemed to me to be the veriest of nonentities."

He then says that, looked at as a human institution, it is great:

"I recognize in the Anglican establishment a time-honored institution, of noble historical memories--a monument of ancient wisdom, a momentous arm of political strength, a great national organ, a source of vast popular advantage, and, _to a certain point, a witness and teacher of religious truth_: . . . . but that it is something sacred; that it is an oracle of revealed doctrine; that it can claim a share in St. Ignatius and St Cyprian; that it can take the rank, contest the teaching, and stop the path of the Church of St. Peter; that it can call itself 'the Bride of the Lamb'--this is the view which simply disappeared from my mind on my conversion, and which it would be almost a miracle to reproduce. I went by, and, lo! it was gone; I sought it, but its place could nowhere be found, and nothing can bring it back to me. And as to its possession of an episcopal succession from the time of the apostles--well, it may have it; and if the Holy See ever so decide, I will believe it, as being the decision of a higher judgment than my own; but for myself, I must have St. Philip's gift, who saw the sacerdotal character on the forehead of a gaily-attired youngster, before I can by my own wit acquiesce in it; for antiquarian arguments are altogether unequal to the urgency of visible facts."

Dr. Newman then expresses his sense of the benefits he received by being born an Anglican, not a Dissenter, and so having been baptized and sent to Oxford:

"And as I have received so much good from the Anglican establishment itself, can I have the heart, or rather the want of charity, considering that it does for so many others what it has done for me, to wish to see it overthrown? I have no such wish while it is what it is, and while we are so small a body. Not for its own sake, but for the sake of the many congregations to which it ministers, I will do nothing against it. While Catholics are so weak in England, it is doing our work; and though it does us harm in a measure, the balance is in our favor" (p. 342).

Here is a plain, definite view about the establishment--giving it certainly not less than its full meed of praise as a human institution, and acknowledging benefits providentially received in it with all the warmth of a most affectionate heart, which never lets a single touching memory fade away. But its claim to a divine origin and supernatural character is set aside as a palpably absurd one. Without questioning whether it be heretical or schismatical or both, Dr. Newman declares that he cannot even believe its orders to be valid unless the Holy See declares them so to be. But Dr. Newman does not wish for the destruction of the establishment until the Catholic ministry is numerous enough to supply its place as the teacher of the mass of the population--an office at present discharged by Anglicans, not indeed adequately, not without many shortcomings and some errors, but still better {532} than might be the case if no such institution existed.

In expressing his own views about the establishment, Dr. Manning was obliged in the course of last year to speak at greater length, and to explain more in detail the Catholic doctrine with regard to baptized persons involuntarily outside the pale of the visible Church. The occasion of his declaration was the judgment of the Privy Council on the case of the "Essays and Reviews." This last of the series of similar decisions of the same tribunal, the ultimate court of appeal for Anglicans in matters of doctrine, naturally gave an opportunity for reviewing the gradual retirement of the High-Church party from the bold ground which they had taken up in 1850, at the time of the Gorham case. The facts only required to be pointed out; the mere narrative spoke more forcibly than any possible commentary. History, either political or ecclesiastical, scarcely contains such another example of a set of high-minded and earnest men having so ostentatiously to shrink from their implied pledges, and belie their most solemn declarations. Immediately after the Gorham decision the leaders of the High-Church party published a series of resolutions, the purport of which was that the Church of England would be "eventually" committed to heresy unless she "openly and expressly" rejected the erroneous doctrine sanctioned by the decision. The consequences were drawn out, involving the loss on the part of the Church of England of the office and authority to witness and teach as a member of the universal church; and it was said that she would thus become "formally separated from the Catholic body, and be no longer able to assure to her members the grace of the sacraments and the remission of sins." Dr. Manning's task was therefore easy; here were men who had pledged themselves in this way in 1850, and, as far as in them lay, pledged the party of which they were leaders. What were they doing in the Church of England in 1864, after fourteen years in which she had not only not cleared herself from the Gorham judgment, but acquiesced in it? She had spoken in convocation on a number of subjects, never on this; she had moreover seen a controversy on the Lord's Supper within her pale, the issue of which was thought a triumph to the High-Church party--not because it proscribed the heretical doctrine held by the larger number of clergy in the Church, but because it just shielded their own doctrine from being proscribed in turn; finally, the "Essays and Reviews" had appeared, and their writers also had been protected from proscription by the crown in council. Dr. Manning might well say that it seemed as if Providence had been mercifully striving to open men's eyes to the position of the Church of England. On the ground taken by the resolutionists of 1850, she had forfeited whatever claim she ever had to allegiance over and over again.

This is hard truth; but it was not urged by Dr. Manning in a hard way, nor with the intention of taunting with their inconsistencies men of whom he has always spoken with respect and affection. The only important matter, after all, is, whether the High-Church party, whose opinions were expressed by the resolutions lately referred to, have in reality receded from their former ground. This is a very serious question; because, unless it can be answered in the negative, it involves an abandonment on their part, not of this or that particular doctrine, but of the whole Catholic idea of a church. The resolutions of 1850 proceeded on the hypothesis that a church that _tolerated_ heresy became itself guilty of it; and that the Church of England was responsible for the acts of the courts to which she submitted without protest. From a Catholic point of view, a very grave change must have come over a set of men who held this principle, if they afterward contented themselves with a church that tolerates heresy on {533} the ground that it also tolerates orthodoxy; that its prayers are orthodox, that its formularies _admit_ of an orthodox sense. Yet it seems quite impossible to draw from the declarations of Dr. Pusey and others anything but an acknowledgment that such a change has taken place. It is not therefore a question as to their view of the present effect of the Gorham decision or any other, but as to their view of the character of the Church in which they hope to be saved.

Dr. Manning's pamphlet was noticed by Dr. Pusey, in a preface placed by him before a legal statement as to the immediate effect of Lord Westbury's decision in the case of the "Essays and Reviews." This preface, like many of Dr. Pusey's _brochures_, was marked by considerable strength of language against those whom he was assailing, and contained distinct threats that he and his friends might set up a free church if their demands for a reconstitution of the court of appeal were disregarded. It was implied that the chancellor had acted from "the pure love of the heresy, and the desire of throwing open to unbelief an article of faith against which rationalism rebels," at the price "of breaking off churches of the colonies from the Mother Church" (no colonial churches are named), "and familiarizing devoted minds among us at home to thoughts of organic severance from the Church whose discipline is fettered by such a tribunal;" and so on. "The Church of England has necessarily more tenacity than the Scotch establishment. For, having a divine original" [origin?], "it is an organic body, and knows more of the value of intercommunion, not _indeed as a condition absolutely necessary_, but as the natural fruit of divine unity. It is then the more remarkable when members of the Church of England begin to speak (_as they have_) of a free church. Our extension in the colonies, which has so enlarged the Church and its episcopate, makes such a rent possible, even though not one bishop in England should join it. And 'if ever there should be a rent in the Church of England,' said one, 'the rent in Scotland would be nothing to it.'" At the end of the preface, men were urged to league together as in the days of the Anti-Corn-Law agitation: no candidate was to receive support at the next election who would not pledge himself to do his best to bring about a change in the court of appeal. And a note was appended, suggesting that "no church should be offered for consecration, no sums given for the building of churches, which by consecration should become the property of the present Church of England, no sums given for endowment in perpetuity, until the present heresy-legalizing court shall be modified."

It must surely have occurred to Dr. Pusey, as it did to so many of his readers, that this threatening language accorded very ill with another passage in his pamphlet, in which he avowed his retirement from the threats he had joined in making in 1850. No fair-minded man can doubt that the resolutions to which we have alluded implied a threat of secession from Anglicanism, unless the Church of England cleared herself from the Gorham decision. Unless she cleared herself, the resolutionists declared she would "eventually" be bound. Dr. Pusey in explanation says that he wished the word to be "ultimately." We can see no great difference between the two. He then (p. 17, note) says that the resolutions were modified so as to be made acceptable to him; all the more, we suppose, is he responsible for their wording, having signed them. He also says that the difference between the line of action adopted by the different persons who signed them is to be accounted for by the fact that some of them thought that the judgment, in _itself_, committed the Church of England; others, that it did not. Surely men must be judged by their words. We may think as we please of the conduct of those who afterward left {534} the Church of England, or of those who remained in it; but it cannot be doubted that, as far as these resolutions are concerned, the former acted consistently, the Latter inconsistently, with them. Moreover, in the page we are quoting, Dr. Pusey seems to us to retire altogether from his position, without saying so openly. He tells us that when he signed the resolutions, "not having a parochial cure, and worshipping mostly in a cathedral where baptism did not enter into the service, I felt the value of the baptismal office as a witness to truth rather than as a teacher of it." Since that time he has come to realize more distinctly "the value of the Prayer-book, speaking, as it does, to the hearts of the people in their own tongue, in teaching and impressing on the people the doctrines which it embodies." This seems to us to imply, that as long as the formularies used in public offices speak an orthodox language, the Church may in other ways be committed to heresy without losing her character. On the same ground, as long as the words of consecration are used in the "Lord's Supper," any doctrine whatever may be taught concerning it. At all events, this is all that Dr. Pusey says as to his adherence to or disavowal of the resolutions of 1850. He cannot be surprised if his threats in 1864 have been taken as worth no more than his declarations fourteen years ago--if the politicians on whose will the decision of these questions depends have found out that the bark of the High-Church leaders is worse than their bite.

"Hi motus animorum, atque haec certamina tanta Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescunt."

So long as the Bible is read and the Prayer-book used, they will impress on the people the doctrines which they embody; and the Essayists and Reviewers and Dr. Colenso will labor so entirely in vain to pervert them, that no court at all will be necessary to punish the propagators of false doctrines. At all events, it may fairly be presumed that the threats about a free church are worth just as much, and no more, as the threats about secession.

But our immediate subject is the course of the controversy about the Anglican establishment. Some expressions in Dr. Pusey's preface, in which he said that some Catholics "seemed to be in an ecstasy at this victory of Satan" (the decision of the Privy Council as to the "Essays and Reviews") appear to have suggested attacks on Dr. Manning with reference to his "Crown in Council," in which he was said to have rejoiced in the troubles of his former friends, and to be merry over the miseries of the Church of England. The same kind of charge has often been made against Catholics, especially converts; and it is in the nature of things that it should be made. Every "trouble" in the Church of England of the kind of which we are speaking, while it weakens it as a teacher of fragments of Catholic truth, weakens also its hold on the minds of many who have hitherto been in the habit of making it the object of that allegiance and that obedience which the instincts of every Christian heart urge it to pay to the one mother of the children of God. So far, therefore, as the Gorham case or the Denison case, or the question of the "Essays and Reviews" and the Colenso decision, tend to expose the true and simply human character of the institution that calls itself the Church of England, so far, many good and loyal souls are set free from a delusion, and their affections transferred to their right and legitimate object. This, in the case of individuals, is a matter of rejoicing. On the other hand, on the grounds stated so clearly by Dr. Newman, it is no matter of rejoicing that a body which has to teach so large a number of baptized souls all that they will ever know of Catholic truth should have the truths that it yet retains diminished in number and in certainty, and should lose all power of preserving them from corruption.

{535}

Dr. Manning's letter to Dr. Pusey contains a clear and calm statement of the doctrines on which the feelings of Catholics toward bodies like the Church of England are based. Dr. Pusey had declared that he knew that "a very earnest body of Roman Catholics rejoice in all the workings of God the Holy Ghost in the Church of England," and had contrasted them with others who are in "ecstasy at the victory of Satan." It became necessary therefore to state in what sense a Catholic can admit that the Holy Ghost works in the Church of England. No Catholic, then, by denying utterly and entirely anything like the character of a church to the Church of England, denies thereby the workings of the Holy Ghost or the operations of grace among those who are its members; nor when these operations are affirmed and rejoiced in is any affirmation thereby made that the Church of England is in any sense whatever a church at all. Dr. Manning states in full the reasons why we affirm the workings of the Holy Ghost among the English people; and these parts of his pamphlet--indeed, the whole of it--are extremely valuable, as a clear statement of truths which it is very difficult to get Englishmen generally to understand, on account of their prevalent ignorance or misconception of the doctrine of grace. The truths in question, we need hardly say, enable Catholics to rejoice heartily in the effects of grace among the Dissenters, not less than among Anglicans. Dr. Manning has a few pages also on the specific truths that have been preserved by Anglicanism, and the fear with which he regards the process of undermining the Christianity of England which is going on. He also explains how naturally he rejoices at conversions, which are to him the bringing of souls from the imperfect to the perfect knowledge of the truth; and sums up by an argument to prove that the Anglican establishment, instead of being, as Dr. Pusey had called it, "the great bulwark against infidelity in this land," is in reality responsible for that infidelity; as having been the source of the present spiritual anarchy in England; as having weakened even those truths which it retains by detaching them from others and from the divine voice of the Church, which is the guarantee of their immortality; and as being a source of unbelief by the denial of the truths it has rejected and also of the perpetual and ever-present assistance of the Holy Ghost to preserve the Church from error. We may add, having quoted Dr. Newman on the subject of Anglican orders, that Dr. Manning speaks with equal clearness as to their entire invalidity.

Dr. Pusey's controversial appearances are generally rather late in the day: the method of his mind is inductive, and he rejoices above all things in the accumulation of a vast amount of materials, which he does not always succeed in clearly arranging or lucidly epitomizing. He has taken a year to answer Dr. Manning's short pamphlet of less than fifty pages, or rather a part of it. The volume teems with undigested learning; and a very large share of it is taken up with a long postscript and a set of notes. It will not be our business at present to do more than state concisely in what the answer to Dr. Manning consists, and endeavor to draw out from the pages of Dr. Pusey what _his_ idea is of the Anglican Church, and what his own position in her.

There is nothing in direct answer to Dr. Manning's explanation of the doctrine as to the working of the Holy Ghost outside the visible Church--an explanation which of course places the Anglican Church on the same ground with the Dissenting sects. The satisfactory answer to this would of course be some proof that the Anglicans have orders and sacraments, and that grace is given _through_ them, not merely to the dispositions of the individual who receives it. Dr. Pusey, of coarse, maintains the {536} validity of Anglican orders, but he adds nothing to the controversy, except the remark that the form of consecration used in the case of Parker was taken from that used in the case of Chichele a century before. As the controversy does not turn solely upon the form used in Parker's consecration, the fact adduced by Dr. Pusey has little to do with it. [Footnote 74]

[Footnote 74: Practically speaking, it is surely a matter of surprise that so few Anglicans should have interested themselves in ascertaining what is thought about their orders by others than themselves. No portion of the Catholic Church (as they consider it) has ever been persuaded to acknowledge them in any way. It is of course their business to obtain their acceptance, not ours to disprove them; all the more, as so very large a number of those who have borne these orders have never believed in their sacramental character. Dr. Pusey says (p. 278), "I do not believe that God maintains the faith where there is not the reality." He is speaking directly of the real presence. By how large a proportion of the bishops and clergy and laity of the Church of England since the Reformation has it been believed, even with all the force of the old Catholic traditions to maintain it? And as to the priesthood and its correlative, the sacrifice, a strong argument, on Dr. Pusey's own ground, against their existence in Anglicanism, might be found in the fact that all practical belief in them has so completely died out in the mass of the people. If there had been the reality, there would have been the faith; and so it is with Eastern heretics and schismatics.]

With regard to the other point, it is of course impossible, or very difficult, to prove the connection between the effect of a supposed means of grace and that supposed means itself, independent of the subjective dispositions and belief of the recipient. Dr. Pusey has no proofs which would not equally show that any one who thought himself a priest was one, and that any one who thought he received a sacrament from him would receive it. But the statement of Dr. Manning on which Dr. Pusey fastens more particularly is that which accuses the Anglican establishment of being the "cause and spring of the prevailing unbelief." Dr. Pusey remarks first that there is plenty of unbelief everywhere. That is true; and everywhere it can be traced to some cause; the charge is, that the Reformation has produced it in England, which was free from it before. Dr. Manning's first proof--that Anglicanism rejects much Christian truth--is met by a statement of the amount of truth which both communions hold. In this part of his argument Dr. Pusey seems to us to avoid the real question at issue. Dr. Manning speaks of the formularies of the Church of England, no doubt, as well as of her practical teaching, such as it has been for the last three hundred years, and such as it is throughout the length and breadth of England at this day. But in a question as to the amount of truth with which she claims to be "the great bulwark against infidelity," it is obvious that her formularies must be judged according to the sense commonly attached to them, and according to the interpretation of them supplied by the ordinary teaching of her clergy. Every one knows that various senses have been applied to the Anglican formularies; and it was the object of the celebrated No. 90 of the "Tracts for the Times" to prove that, in some cases, it was the intention of the compilers of the articles to allow men of various schools to sign them. Still, it is going far beyond this to put forward the so-called "Catholic" interpretation of the formularies as _the_ sense of the Church of England. It would be untrue even if we consider the matter as a simply literary question; much more is it in the highest degree unfair to put forward this interpretation in a controversy which turns upon what actually has been and is taught by her. If a foreigner--as unacquainted with the real teaching of Anglicanism as Dr. Pusey is with that of Catholicism--were to take up this book and believe what he finds in it, he would, we venture to say, derive a totally false impression of the doctrine of the English Church as it lies on the face of her formularies, and as it has always been understood and acted upon by nine-tenths of her clergy and people. He would find an assurance that she holds the three creeds, which would give him to understand that she interpreted them in the same sense as the Catholic Church. {537} He would learn with surprise that there is no difference between Anglicans and Catholics on justification. "There is not one statement in the elaborate chapters on justification in the Council of Trent which _any of us_ could fail in receiving," says Dr. Pusey. He would find that Dr. Manning had quite falsely said that "the Church of England sustains a belief in two sacraments, but formally propagates unbelief in the other five." In fact, that the Church of England holds all seven to be sacraments, with only a difference in dignity. Still more to his astonishment, he would read that the Church of England does not, in particular, object to extreme unction; she "_only_ objects to the later abuse of it," which is not the Catholic practicer--namely, the custom of not administering it except to the dying. Then, if some one told him that the Church of England has discontinued the practice altogether, and that any one would be called a simple papist who attempted to introduce it in any way, he might naturally be inclined to find fault with the treacherous guide who had so misled him. It is the same with other points. Dr. Pusey tells us that the Church of England does _not_ deny the infallibility of general councils or of the Church. His reasoning on this last head is so good a specimen of his method, that we may dwell on it for a moment. One of the articles teaches, that as the other churches have erred, so also the Church of Rome hath erred --even in matters of faith. Dr. Manning sums this up, very naturally, as a statement that all churches have erred. "The article," says Dr. Pusey, "was a puzzle to me when young." He supposed, it seems, that the condemnation must have been meant to fall on doctrinal decrees. "The two clauses, being put antithetically, must correspond. On further information, I found that there were no canons of Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Antioch that were intended; then it followed--the same principle of the correspondence of the two clauses--that neither were canons of the Church of Rome spoken of. The article moreover does not say that the Church of Rome _is_ in error in the present, but _hath_ erred in time past."

It is strange to see so much ingenuity wasted in a hopeless cause. Dr. Pusey remembers perfectly that the attempt to put forward the interpretations for which he contends, not as _the_ sense or teaching of the Church of England, but as a sense of her articles barely tolerated by her in certain individuals of Catholic opinions whom she wished to retain, as others, in her service, was met many years ago by an outcry such as has not been heard in our day in England, save in the case of the Catholic hierarchy. And yet he thinks it fair and just to argue as if the Church of England not only allowed such interpretations, but as if the views which they embody were her regular teaching, so that she has a right to claim that she has put forward boldly in face of the infidelity around her those portions of Christian truth to which they relate. Her people then are, and always have been, really taught that there are seven sacraments, that there is a real presence on the altar, that there is a eucharistic sacrifice, that the Church is infallible, and so on. And as he speaks of her ministers being vowed to banish and drive away strange doctrine, his position implies that any heresy which might contradict these great Catholic truths could not be permitted within her pale. And now, suppose he was taken at his word; suppose, in consequence of this so-called _Eirenicon_, negotiations were opened and emissaries sent from Rome to the bishops and convocation of the English Church to treat of reunion. What would be the first step of the Anglican authorities, those who really have a right to speak for their communion, and who would be backed by the great body of the clergy and laity in the country? It would certainly be to repudiate the false face put upon their teaching by Dr. Pusey, and to {538} declare that their Church had always been, and meant to be, thoroughly and simply Protestant on the points at issue.

If, therefore, Dr. Pusey cannot answer Dr. Manning's charge except by attributing to the Church of England the ordinary and regular teaching, as against infidelity, of doctrines which she practically disclaims--even if it be allowed that she does not formally proscribe them--it is clear that he thinks little better of that ordinary and regular teaching as it is in fact than Dr. Manning himself. His book is in reality more a long excuse of himself and others for remaining in her than anything else. This is quite a different question. She _may_ tolerate Catholic opinions in her ministers, and Catholic interpretations of her articles. Her defenders have then to give an account of what sort of church it is which can compromise truth by purposely ambiguous formularies, and allow side by side in her pulpits men who must consider each other as heretics. But Dr. Manning's question relates to her actual teaching as a "bulwark against infidelity;" and Dr. Pusey knows very well that for every clergyman who teaches more sacraments than two, or the eucharistic sacrifice, there are twenty who deny them.

Perhaps the most elaborate part of Dr. Pusey's volume is that in which he endeavors to prove that the unity of the visible church need not be visible, and that it is sufficiently secured by orders and sacraments, "through its union with Christ, as head, by the sacraments, and the indwelling of God the Holy Ghost." He naively asks, How can we be said to deny the indissoluble unity of the Church when we cannot approach communion without repeating the Nicene Creed? Certainly, few people could ever be convicted of false doctrine if the repetition of the creed in public service was enough to absolve them. In this part of the work, however, Dr. Pusey more than ever leaves out of sight the real nature of the charge which he has undertaken to answer--the charge of having denied the indissoluble unity of the Church, its visible head, and its perpetual voice. The question is, whether these truths can be considered as a part of the system which the Church of England teaches and defends. Here, of course, there is more divergence as to the doctrine between the two controversialists; and Dr. Pusey answers only by a theory of his own. But in fact, even if he fairly represents Anglicanism, he cannot escape the charge, as to the unity of the Church, any more than that as to its infallibility. He really maintains that for all practical purposes the Church _was_ infallible up to the division of East and West--we meet in his pages that phrase of which his friends are so fond, the "Holy Undivided Church." _Now_ it is difficult to find what infallible teacher Dr. Pusey acknowledges; to what he would submit a conclusion, we will say, as to the Immaculate Conception, which he has drawn by his own reason from his study of Scripture or the fathers. His position may be understood from the following passage:

"This, I understand, is a favorite formula with Dr. Manning--'By whom does God the Holy Ghost speak? By the Roman Church? or by the Eastern? or by the Anglican?' I have been wont to say, by all concurrently, in so far as they teach the same faith which was from the beginning, which is the great body of all their teaching; and, if need require, they could at this day declare concurrently any truth, if it should appear that it had not as yet been sufficiently defined, against some fresh heresy which should emerge" (p. 84).

The faith of Christians is therefore proposed to them by an authority on which they are bound to receive it; but that authority has in the first place to be tested by Christians themselves, who must decide by their own reason--for they can have no other guide--whether in any particular point the three churches teach the same faith which was from the beginning. {539} Further this authority cannot speak at all precisely on those points as to which Christians must most desire its guidance--those points on which these three churches differ. Dr. Pusey speaks of his reciting the Nicene Creed. On what authority does he believe that the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father and the Son? He may _think_ that the Eastern faith comes to much the same thing as the Western; but that is a conclusion of his own reason. And we must leave to our readers to make out for themselves the way in which he tries to show that the churches could still act concurrently, if the occasion were to arise; especially in the very obvious and, according to the Anglican teaching, perfectly possible case, that one of these three churches themselves should be the victim of the new heresy, which, according to him, would constitute the occasion for a new definition. [Footnote 75]

[Footnote 75: We are not, of course, answering Dr. Pusey's book; but we cannot help quoting a single passage from the treatise "On the Temporal Mission of the Holy Ghost," lately published by his grace the Archbishop of Westminster, which simply destroys the whole theory on which Dr. Pusey reasons. Few things of the kind can be more refreshing than to turn from the pages of Dr. Pusey to the clear, bright, simple, and precise statements of Dr. Manning. It is like breathing pure country air after groping about in a London fog; and the fanciful and unsubstantial images that bewilder the readers of the _Eirenicon_ vanish like so much mist and vapor as the majestic outlines of the Church, as sketched by the archbishop, take possession of the mind. No one who reads this book will need any other answer to that of Dr. Pusey. On the point before us the archbishop says: "There are some who appeal from the voice of the living Church to antiquity, professing to believe that while the Church was united was infallible; that when it became divided it ceased to speak infallibly; and that the only certain rule or faith is to believe that which the Church held and taught while yet it was united, and therefore infallible. Such reasoners fail to observe that since the supposed division and cessation of the infallible voice there remains no divine certainty as to what was then infallibly taught. To affirm that this or that doctrine was taught then where it is now disputed, is to beg the question. The infallible Church of the first six centuries--that is, before the division--was infallible to those who lived in those ages, but is not infallible to us. It spoke to them; to us it is silent. The infallibility does not reach to us; for the Church of the last twelve hundred years is by the hypothesis fallible, and may therefore err in delivering to us what was taught before the division. And it is certain that either the East or the West, as it is called, must err in this, for they contradict each other as to the faith before the division. I do not speak of the protests of later separations, because no one can invest them with an infallibility which they not only disclaim for themselves, but deny anywhere to exists" (pp. 74, 75).]

It is clear that, according to Dr. Pusey, we must ascertain what the "Undivided Church" taught for ourselves, and then receive it on her authority. Far more than this in reality; for we are to find out for ourselves negative conclusions as well as positive. There is what he speaks of as a vast practical system in the Catholic Church, the honor paid to our Blessed Lady, and other things of that kind, which penetrate the daily life and the ordinary thoughts of the great mass of her children. On this Dr. Pusey sits in judgment, and declares it to be alien to the teaching of the "Undivided Church," because he does not find it himself in the fathers. We do not see that he places his objections to it on the authority of his own Church. This leads us to our question, what, to him, is Anglicanism? Is he content to be its dutiful child, to catch its genuine spirit, to echo without further question its definitions, to "rest and be thankful" with whatever it may give him? We believe that no one who has ever known anything about the subject has suspected Dr. Pusey of any intention to secede from the Anglican Church: this makes it all the more strange that he should give it so wavering and niggardly an allegiance. Other people openly avow that they simply put up with it as a convenient lodging-place for men of no particular opinions; it exacts little, leaves them pretty much alone, and yet furnishes them handsomely with the outward paraphernalia of a church. Like the Roman Senate in the old story about Tiberius, it admits the gods of all nations easily into its Pantheon. One set of opinions alone it objects to, because they are so exclusive! Except in that case, its courts always shield the persecuted. Mr. Gorham is attacked for a heresy, and they shield him; Mr. Denison for a truth, and they absolve him; even the "Essays and Reviews" do not deprive their authors of this comprehensive protection. Its toleration gives, as a statesman expressed it, "general {540} satisfaction." Who can refuse to be loyal, when the yoke is so light?

"Quod si nec nomen, nec me tua forma teneret, Posset servitiam mite tenere tuum;"

and so Dr. Pusey himself seems to feel, save in those moods of rebelliousness which now and then come over him. We have seen how he once almost pledged himself to secede if the Gorham judgment was not disavowed. He was too old then to be excused on the plea of youthful impetuosity; at all events, the fit passed away: the baptismal service contents him. We have seen the threats he threw out more than a year ago about a free church if the court of appeal were not modified: that mood too has passed away. His present book speaks in the most contented manner: "Essay and Reviewism a passing storm," is the title that runs along the top of one of his pages; and he speaks of "the bright promise of the year of ingathering which the Lord has blessed!" He has forgotten his despair of last year, and boldly proposes to the Catholic Church terms on which reunion may be made,--terms, we venture to say, which would be rejected at once by every authority of the Church of England itself. Still, with all this, we do not see in his book any indication that, except as to the validity of Anglican orders, he really thinks much better of Anglicanism than Dr. Manning or Dr. Newman. Its authority is nothing to him; and they, on the other hand, do not deny that, though a mere human institution, it teaches many truths which might otherwise be untaught. He is ready to leave it if it "accepts heresy;" but it seems that _what_ is heresy, and what is its acceptance, must be left to himself to decide. This is the language of one party in a contract or a compromise to another; not that of a pupil to a teacher, a child to a parent--above all, not that of a Catholic to his Church. He does not aver that "the Church of England is the best possible bulwark against infidelity," but only "as a matter of fact, that it is at this moment, under God's providence, a real and chief bulwark against it." He complains of Dr. Manning's statement that she "rejects _much_ Christian truth" in a way that looks very much as if he thought she rejected _some_ and he only defends her even then by putting an entirely strange face upon her. He hoists a false flag, and fights for her under it.

We are unwilling to speak personally of an amiable and excellent man; but Dr. Pusey, if there are few exactly like him, is still in his way a representative man; and his work shows thus the position of many others beside himself. It is obvious that he is really in the Church of England because he has nowhere else to go. He is loyal to her, not because he loves and admires her, but because he thinks he can find no other resting-place. Deeply versed in the Scriptures, especially of the Old Testament, and with a large acquaintance with some of the fathers, he has studied them under that fatal disadvantage which consists in the entire ignorance of the living system in which the authors whom he has read lived and breathed. The fathers especially, if they are studied without a knowledge of the ever-living Church, are certain to be misunderstood and to convey inadequate ideas of their own practice and belief. The Church alone explains and completes their testimony. It is exactly the everyday life, the things and customs and ideas that are too familiar to be chronicled, that must ever be unknown to those who have a merely literary knowledge of any system or any set of men. The strange thing is that any reasonable man should suppose it to be otherwise. Dr. Pusey, if we may judge from the opening of his postscript, really seems to think that if St. Augustine were to arrive to-morrow in London, he would go to worship in St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey, rather than at Moorfields or Warwick Street--St. Augustine, who, in a well-known passage, {541} has pointed out the unfailing mark which the common sense of mankind has fixed upon the true Church by the simple popular use of the name Catholic!

The result of Dr. Pusey's thought and study may be summed up in two simple heads. The first is an attitude of mind utterly and entirely alien from that which is the first condition of the relation of a Catholic to the Church. He has never been taught by a church, guided by a church, moulded by a church; he is self-educated and self-reliant; he has made his own teacher for himself, and has never sat at the feet of any other, except of the author of a book of which he was himself the interpreter. Speaking of the possibility of "secession" in his own case, he tells us, "I have always felt that I could have gone in on no other way than that of closing my eyes and accepting whatever was put before me" (p. 98). What a revolution that would be! This attitude of simple, uncriticising, ungrudging docility and obedience, is a thing which to him is a perfect novelty. It is one thing to take our faith from an abstraction of our own brain; quite another to receive it from a living reality, outside and independent of ourselves. This is the first thing that strikes us in men like Dr. Pusey, as their minds are reflected in books such as that before us. The second is an amount of misconception, misunderstanding, and positive ignorance of the Catholic system, which would be simply unintelligible did we not consider the great disadvantages under which any one in his position must have studied it. He is not one of the more rabid school of Anglican controversialists; his character and habits of mind are quite alien from wilful misrepresentation and conscious unfairness. And yet there is hardly a fair statement in his book on matters which belong to Catholicism; and there are many most provoking misstatements, as well as many most ludicrous and childish blunders. The book presents an easy victory to any moderately-informed Catholic theologian who may take the trouble to refute it. This has not been our purpose at present. We have been content with pointing out that his defence of Anglicanism really condemns it, because it implies that he cannot defend it without misrepresenting it. In a future article we may deal with him as a controversialist, and point out, by way of specimen, some few of the mistakes into which he has fallen in his attack on the Catholic Church.

From The Literary Workman.

IRELAND BEFORE CHRISTIANITY.

The ignorance of true Irish history that prevails, and the absurdity of the things given as facts to a large mass of moderately educated people, is painfully surprising. For instance, it is generally believed among a great number of people, and it is taught to them in books, that Ireland was a land of desolate bogs, and forests filled with wolves, and inhabited by lawless savages, till converted to a "sort of Christianity" by the English, of which Christianity the remarkable part was that it had nothing to do with the Pope. Many people believe St. Patrick to have been an Englishman; others think he was a Welshman, and a few bold spirits of the present day declare that they can prove him to have been an excellent Protestant. Savages, bogs, wolves, and desolation, having been taken {542} compassion upon by the English, they subjugated the people, taught them, gave them laws, and in the reign of Henry II. of England attached Ireland to the British crown, when that country began to have a history. Before that date, that is, before the twelfth century, for Henry II. ascended the throne in 1154, Ireland had had no history worth remembering or worth noting. This is a short summary of the chief points of the Protestant belief on that matter. And although true knowledge concerning many things has struck root and spread amazingly of late years, there is so much still to learn about Ireland, and the history of that country is at once so interesting and so edifying, that "Papers on Irish History" are offered to the readers of the "Workman" with a conviction that they will find a welcome both in that country and in England.

In looking back to the earliest years of the history of Ireland, our instructor is tradition. It is a very curious thing, however, to see that the old tales, which have passed with many for poetic fables, have assumed in these days a remarkable importance, because in so many instances science is proving tradition to be truth. Speaking of Ireland, Camden says: "If what the Irish historians relate be true, this island was not without reason called _Agygia_ or _most ancient_, by Plutarch. For they begin their histories from the remotest period of antiquity, so that compared with them all other nations are of modern date, and but in a kind of infancy. They tell us that one _Caesarea_, granddaughter to Noah, lived here before the flood, and that afterward came _Bartholanus_ (_Partholanus_), a Scythian, 300 years after the flood, and waged fierce war with the giants. Long after this, Nemethus, the Scythian, landed, and was presently driven off by the giants. Afterward, Dela, with some Greeks, made themselves masters of the island; then _Gaothelus_ with his wife _Scota_, daughter of Pharaoh, arrived here, and called the island from her Scotia, and from him _Gaothela_, and this at the time of the Israelites' departure out of Egypt. A few ages after, _Hiberus_ and _Hermione_ (or as the Irish called them, _Ever_ and _Erimon_), sons of _Milesius_, king of Spain, led some colonies into this island, which had been depopulated by a plague. These stories I neither mean to affirm nor refute, making all due allowance for antiquity." Then Camden gives his own opinion in these words: "That this island was originally inhabited upon the general dispersion of mankind, I have not the least doubt." And at this date, no one who may be quoted as understanding the subject, has any doubt of the immense antiquity of the Irish; an antiquity which, in fact, defies calculation. But it is in some measure proved by the discovery in Ireland of those weapons which are the earliest weapons of defence used by man. They are flints chipped into a shape like the head of a spear. They were used before men knew how to use metal; and they belong to that earliest time which geologists have called by the name of the stone age. Geologists have divided the early ages into three: the stone, the bronze, and the iron period. In the stone age, Ireland had a people, and the celts, or flint stones chipped into a form like a spear head, were their weapons.

The debated point of whether or not Ireland was peopled from England, is one which is of little interest. There was a time in the history of man when people could have walked over from France to England, and when Ireland was joined to Wales. Strange as this may read to some persons, it is less strange than the greater instance of, for example, Australia being found peopled, and yet parted from the rest of the world by a great sea. The people of Australia had not gone there in vessels. They had got there by land; and whether, by the gradual work of time, during which the land sunk, and the sea {543} flowed in over it, and by this means gave islands to the world, or whether by enormous convulsions rocks shivered, and the land was rent apart and sunk, as between us and France, where the chasm may be said to be filled in by the water that makes the Straits of Dover--however it was done, whether suddenly or not, the researches of modern science have settled that these things occurred, and that the people who were our forefathers in this manner were separated from each other. Accepting this theory as a truth, it is idle to ask whether Ireland was peopled from this country or not. But in the presence of such a theory, no person can any longer laugh at Ireland's traditional antiquity; it is more reasonable to accept it, and to allow that they have proved their ancient and hereditary intelligence by preserving history.

And this theory of the manner in which islands were divided from continents is, in fact, constantly proving itself before our eyes. Not to go out of England, we may see the progress of such a change now in Lincolnshire. The reason why the great embankments against the sea are necessary there, and have become more than ever necessary of late years, is, that the land is sinking; and but for the preventions that science and labor effect, a part of Lincolnshire would become an island.

There are now a few words to be said about the name Scotia, as applied to Ireland. The Romans called all the far "western people" Scots, or Scythians. It meant a people who sailed--a maritime people--they learnt the word in these countries, for it is _Teutonic_, or northern Celtic; and we use the word ourselves when we speak of a boat _scudding_ over the waves.

That the people from Spain came to Ireland, and that the existing Irish are their descendants, is not disputed. Hiberus and Hermione, called by the Irish Ever and Erimon, left their names in _Hibernia_, from the Spanish for one brother, and in the Irish _Erin_ for the other. But yet Hibernia is a comparatively modern name; and Ireland is the ancient _Scotia_, called Ierne by the Roman poet Claudian and other Roman writers, and Ivvorna by Diodoms Siculus, and many beside.

One word more about the rude flint weapon called everywhere a celt. It took its name undoubtedly from the people who used it. It was the weapon of the northern or Celtic nations. When Celts are found they indicate to us the existence of the men who used them, and their state of civilization. Wherever they are found they are called by this name, and their name is derived from the northern people.

Ireland has always been considered a most healthy country, and in Campbell's Philosophical Survey of Ireland, Dr. Rutty tells us, "The bogs are not injurious to health, and agues are very unfrequent here." And again, these "bogs are not, as may be supposed from their blackness, masses of putrefaction, but, on the contrary, are of such a texture as to resist putrefaction above any other substance we know of." Of such assertions we have now constant proof, and the durability of the beautiful and often highly polished ornaments made out of Irish bogwood is too well known to dwell upon.

The people seem to have been, in very early times, great feeders of sheep, cattle, and pigs. But the richness of the soil of this beautiful island yields to the labor of the scientific former great gain.

Very curious speculations have arisen as to the gold that has been found in Ireland. It remains a mystery. Mr. O'Connor, in his dissertations on the history of Ireland, says, "that, soon after the arrival of the Scots from Spain, we read of Uchadan of Cuala, who rendered himself famous by his skill in the fabrication of metals." This places the civilization of Ireland very far back; and taken together with the early renown of the Irish in music, puts them at once in a {544} position of their own. When a people are musicians and workers in gold, Silver, and other metals, they have advanced a good way in what is meant by the word civilization. Their music is described as being of the most affecting and tender kind; and they seem to have met together, as afterward at Tara, for such accomplished recreations before anything of that kind would have been understood in England.

It will be interesting to give, from "Gough's Additions" to Camden's account of Ireland, some notes of the buried gold that has been found:

"In the bog near Cullen, in the county of Tipperary, in 1732, a laborer found a piece of worked gold, a little less than half the size of a small egg. It weighed 3 ozs. 4 dwts. and 7 grs."

"In 1739, a boy found a circular plate of beaten gold, about eight inches in diameter, which, lapped up in the form of a triangle, enclosed three ingots of gold, which they say could not weigh less than a pound; for the boy no sooner brought them home than his mother, a poor widow, gave them to a merchant, on whose land she had a cabin, as brass to make weights."

This is one of the great many instances in which large pieces of gold were sold as brass. Gold was found in these lumps, and in thin plates, as follows:

"1742. A child found on the brink of a hole a thin plate of gold. 1747. A girl found in the turf-dust a thin plate of gold, rolled on another, which when extended was 14 inches long, and a quarter of an inch broad; of which a fellow standing by took about half from her; what he left weighed 6 dwts. 13 grs. Soon after, an apprentice girl found 1 oz. 5 dwts. of the same kind, rolled after the same manner, in a sod of turf as she made the fire."

Vessels of a "yellow metal," as the people said, were frequently found in this bog. They used to sell them for brass. One was four-sided, and 8 inches high, with a handle on each side; the sisters who possessed it sold it to a tinker, who mended a pot and gave thirteenpence for it. The page of Irish history which the sight of these vessels, and the consideration of their shape and workmanship, might have revealed, has been, doubtless, lost with them in the melting pot.

From The St. James Magazine.

THE COLOSSUS OF RHODES.

In the elementary works for the instruction of young people we find every day frequent mention of the Colossus of Rhodes. The statue is always represented with gigantic limbs, each leg resting on the enormous rocks which face both sides of the entrance to the principal port of the island of Rhodes, and ships in full sail pass easily, it is said, between its legs; for Pliny the ancient tells us that its height was seventy cubits.

This colossus was reckoned among the seven wonders of the world, the six others being, as is well known, the suspended gardens of Babylon, devised by Nitocris, wife of Nebuchadnezzar; the pyramids of Egypt; the statue of Jupiter Olympicus; the mausoleum of Halicarnassus; the temple of Diana at Ephesus; and the pharos of Alexandria, erected in the year of Rome 470, and completely destroyed by an earthquake A.D. 1303.

{545}

Nowhere has any authority been found for the assertion that the Colossus of Rhodes spanned the entrance to the island, and admitted the passage of vessels in fall sail between its wide-stretched limbs. No old drawing even of that epoch exists, when the statue was yet supposed to be standing; several modern engravings may be seen, but they are mere works of the imagination, executed to gratify the curiosity of amateur antiquarians, or to feed the naive credulity of the ignorant.

A century ago, the Comte de Cayius, a distinguished French archaeologist, found fault with his countrymen for admitting this fiction into the schoolbooks [Footnote 76] for young people; but he sought in vain to trace its origin.

[Footnote 76: "_Memoires de l'Académie des Inscriptions_," t. xxiv., p. 369]

Vigenère, in his "_Tableaux de Philostrate_," is supposed to have been the first who ventured to make an imaginary drawing of the colossus. He was followed by Bergier and Chevreau, [Footnote 77] the latter adding a lamp to the hand of the statue.

[Footnote 77: "_Histoire du Monde_," iv., p. 319.]

The greater number of French dictionaries, Rollin, in his "Ancient History," and even some encyclopaedic dictionaries, have adopted the fiction of their predecessors.

A fictitious Greek manuscript, quoted by the mythologist Dachoul, [Footnote 78] further adorns the colossus by giving him a sword and lance, and by hanging a mirror round his neck.

[Footnote 78: "_Religion des Anciens Romains_," p. 211.]

The Comte Ghoisel-Grouffier, in his picturesque "Journey through Greece," published about the year 1780, declares the colossus with the outstretched legs to be fabulous. He says: "This fable has for years enjoyed the privilege so readily accorded to error. It is commonly received, and discarded only by the few who have made ancient history their study. Most people have accepted, without investigation, an assertion which is unsupported by any authority from ancient authors." Nevertheless, the Belgian, Colonel Rottiers, and the English geologist, Hamilton, [Footnote 79] do not yield to this respectable authority, but endeavor to place the site of the statue at the entrance to one of the smaller harbors of the island, scarcely forty feet wide. Rottier goes still further, and gives a superb engraving of the colossus under the form of an Apollo, the bow and quiver on his shoulders, his forehead encircled by rays of light, and holding a beacon flame above his head.

[Footnote 79: "Researches in Asia Minor," etc. London, 1842.]

Polybius is the first among the ancient writers who mentions the Colossus of Rhodes, in enumerating the donations received by the inhabitants of the island after the fearful earthquake they experienced in 222 or 224 b.c. We quote the passage: "The Rhodians have benefited by the catastrophe which befel them, owing to which not only the huge colossus, but also a number of houses and a portion of the surrounding walls, were demolished." Then follows a list of the rich gifts they received from all parts. Among the benefactors Polybius mentions the three kings, Ptolemy III. of Egypt, Antigone Doson, of Macedonia, and Seleucus, of Syria, father of Antiochus. The ancient Pliny records that the colossus, after having stood for sixty-six years, was overthrown by an earthquake, and that it took the artist Charès de Lindos, to whom the Rhodians had intrusted its construction, twelve years to complete his task.

The tendency in art to produce grand effects by colossal works became perceptible twenty-five year's before Phidias; for we find that 463 years before Christ the inhabitants of Syracuse caused a huge statue to be erected to Jupiter Eleutherius, after the death of the tyrant Thrasybulus. This tendency was an indication of the decline of art, traceable during and after the period of Alexander the Great.

But to return to the colossus. One Philo-Byzantius wrote a short treatise on the seven wonders of the ancient world, about 150 years B.C. [Footnote 80] In it he {546} gives an explanation of the construction of the colossus, but nowhere speaks of the extended legs, under which vessels in full sail entered the port. On the contrary, he mentions one sole pedestal, which was of white marble. Moreover, the statue was said to be 105 feet in height, and the harbor entrance, according to modern researches, was 350 feet wide; it could not, therefore, possibly reach across this space. Lastly, if the statue had stood at the entrance of the port, the earthquake must have overthrown it into the sea; whereas Strabo and Pliny tell us that its fragments remained for a considerable time imbedded in the earth, and attracted much attention by their wonderful size and dimensions.

[Footnote 80: It was reprinted with a Latin translation, by J. C. Orelli, at Leipzic, in 1816. Strabo also mentions the colossus as one of the seven wonders of the world.]

Now this is the real truth concerning the colossus:

Toward the year 305 B.C., Demetrius Poliorcetes laid siege to Rhodes, and the inhabitants defended themselves with so much bravery that, after a whole year of struggle and endurance, they forced the enemy to retire from the island. The Rhodians, by whom the sun-god (Helios) was worshipped as their patron (having emerged from the waves of the AEgean Sea), inspired by sentiments of devotion, and excited by fervent gratitude for so signal a proof of the divine favor, commanded Charès de Lindos to erect a colossal statue to the honor of their deity. An inscription explained that the expenses of its construction were defrayed out of the sale of the materials of war left by Demetrius on his retreat from the island of Rhodes. This statue was erected on an open space of ground near the great harbor, and near the spot where the pacha's seraglio now actually stands; and its fragments for many years after its destruction were seen and admired by travellers. This explanation is still further supported by the fact, that a chapel built on this ground in the time of the Knights of Rhodes is named _Fanum Sancti Joannis Colossensis_.

We have seen that Strabo, who wrote and travelled during the reigns of the first two Roman emperors, was the earliest author after Polybius who mentioned the fall of the Colossus of Rhodes, and that very concisely. Pliny enters into somewhat fuller details, and speaks of the dimensions of the mutilated limbs. "Even while prostrate," says he, "this statue excited the greatest admiration. Few men could span one of its thumbs with his arms; and each of its fingers was as large as an ordinary full-sized statue. Its broken limbs appeared to strangers like caverns, in the interior of which enormous blocks of stone were seen."

From this time we find no further mention whatever of these fragments; but it is curious that toward the end of the second century several writers speak of a colossal statue at Rhodes as still existing. It is possible that one was again constructed, but of smaller dimensions. Indeed, Leo Allazzi tells us that the Colossus of Rhodes was reconstructed and completed under the Emperor Vespasian; but later Greek authors give us nothing in support of this opinion.

A long time after the fall of the Roman empire the island of Rhodes was conquered by the general-in-chief of the Caliph Othman, in the seventh century of the Christian era; and then mention is once more made of a colossus in metal. "This last memorial of a glorious past was not respected by the conqueror," says the Byzantine history. "The general took down the colossus which stood erect on the island, and transported the metal into Syria, and sold it to a Jew, who loaded 980 camels with the materials of his purchase."

We should refer any who may be curious for further details on the Colossus of Rhodes to a remarkable work on the subject by Carl Ferdinand Lüders, in which the fiction of the gigantic outstretched limbs is completely disposed of; but with such an array of learned accessories, _more germanico_, that few will perhaps read it throughout.

{547}

From The Month.

PUBLIC LIFE OF ST. CATHARINE OF SIENA.

No one can expect to find the history of the Church free from vicissitude; as it has its bright and glorious periods, so also it has its times of gloom and darkness, when a superficial observer might almost interpret the disastrous character of the more salient facts that meet his eye, as the evidence of a suspension of the vital activity and healthy vigor of the whole body. But the life of the Church is essentially internal, and depends on the free action of divine grace, penetrating and animating the whole community--an action that is perpetually kept up by the most common and unobtrusive ministrations of sacramental strength, which are going on in full frequency and efficacy, while the political fortunes of the hierarchy, or of the supreme power, are crushed by oppression or persecution; or even while scandals are seen in high places--when bishops become courtiers, when cardinals are truckling to kings and emperors, and popes are in captivity or exile. And it often happens that these dark times are most prolific of the noblest fruits of the interior life; and that at such seasons the choicest treasures of the Church--the souls on whom great and special graces have been bestowed--are providentially brought out into unusual prominence, so as to exercise great influence and give a character to the period, or a direction to some of its most important transactions. Even if it be not so, at all events we have only to go a little below the surface in order to find plentiful indications of the rich veins that are contained in no soil but one. Thus, in Italy, at the time in which this paper treats, there were a number of saintly souls, whose names have since taken rank in the calendar of the Church. The secular historian sees little more than a set of quarrelsome states, restless in their mutual discord and aggressive ambition, and distracted, ever and anon, by the most furious domestic strife, which would slake itself with nothing but blood. St. Andrew Corsini once showed his audience, as he was preaching in the Piazza of Fiesole, looking down on Florence, an immense flight of hawks, kites, and other ravenous birds, battling with one another over the city. They represented, he told them, the number of evil spirits that were engaged in stirring up the inhabitants to intestine discord. Florence was not worse, but rather better, and more thoroughly Catholic, than its neighbors; yet when we take up such a life, for instance, as that of St. Giovanni Colombini, of Siena, the founder of the Gesuati, we find ourselves at once in an atmosphere of calm and fresh simplicity, of happy peace, fervent devotion, and loving faith; and it is only by the chance mention of public calamities--the sufferings of the peasants, whose fruit-trees had been cut down by the German "company"' of marauders, and the like--that we are reminded of the Italy of the day, with its endless disturbances and hopeless insecurity. We have not merely the beautiful picture of Giovanni himself, and his immediate followers and friends; of his good wife, for instance, who begged him to read her pious book while she kept him waiting a few minutes for his dinner, and who, though he had at first thrown it on the floor in a fit of impatient anger, could not persuade him to leave it, when all was ready, till he had read to the end the story of St. Mary of {548} Egypt. She had prayed that he might be more given to almsgiving than he was, and then had to complain that she had prayed for a shower, not for a deluge, when he began to give away everything in the house; and she had to yield at last to his saintly fervor, and release him altogether from the obligations of the married life. It is not only Francesco Vincenti, the other rich and noble gentleman of Siena, who caught up the example of Giovanni, began to give great alms, dress shabbily, and serve the poor, and at last joined him in giving up the world altogether, and placing himself under religious obedience; or Giovanni's cousin Catarina, the first of the nuns whom he established, whom he could not persuade to embrace the state of poverty, though she had given up the idea of marriage, till he called her to a little window in the wall between their two houses, one night, as she was going up to bed with her lamp lit, and talked to her in so heavenly a strain that her heart was perfectly changed; and when she turned to go away at last, she found that she had been listening all night, and the morning rays were streaming through the shutters, though, as he bade her observe, the little stock of oil in her lamp was unconsumed. These might be accidents of piety and simple faith in particular families; but we cannot so account for the great number of followers that enlisted themselves under Giovanni--so many, that the worthy magistrates of Siena thought fit for a time to banish him and his companions from the city, lest every one should join them; nor for the ready and enthusiastic welcome that he met with wherever he went throughout Tuscany, the joy with which his preaching was received, and the rapid fruit that it produced. The beautiful account of him and his early followers, written in the century after his death by Feo Belcari, is full of details and anecdotes that seem to prove the powerful hold that faith and religion retained upon the mass of the population in those seemingly black and miserable days. The mere number of his followers, as we have said, is an evidence of this, the proofs to which the novices were put were very severe indeed; yet when Urban V. came from France to Italy, Giovanni went to meet him at Corneto with a company of seventy, all of whom had joined him within two years. The same conclusion is forced upon us when we take up the life or the letters of the still more famous child of the same fair city, St. Catharine of Siena, of whose public influence we hope to give presently some short account. The family of religious disciples whom she collected around her in the course of her short life, from all ranks and classes, could never have been furnished save by a population thoroughly penetrated with religious feeling, and familiar with the loftiest principles of faith. Her own home, too, is a charming picture. There is the good pious father, "a man simple and without guile," as Father Raymond tells us, "fearing God, and keeping free from vice;" a man so moderate in speech, that for no occasion whatever, of disturbance or trouble that was given him, did unbecoming words escape his lips; rather, when others of his family felt bitterly, and he heard them break out into angry words, he set himself at once, with a joyous countenance, to comfort them, saying, "Ah, God give you good luck! don't fret yourself, or say things like that, which don't befit us." He let himself be injured and brought to the brink of ruin by a false charge, and yet would never allow any one in his presence to speak against his accuser, leaving his cause entirely to God; and in due time all was wonderfully set right. His large family of children were brought up with so much modesty, and with so great a hatred of anything licentious, though only in word, that one of the daughters, whom he had given in marriage to a young man who had lost his parents when a child, and learnt bad language from the chance companions he had picked up, made herself ill with {549} grieving over her husband's bad habit in this respect, and could never be well or happy till he had given it up. We hear less of the rest of the family. Catharine was one of twenty-five children; but though they opposed for a while her resolution not to marry, and tried to make her give up her excessive penances, they seem to have been good, fervent Christians; and her mother, with her natural love for her child, struggling against the sacrifice of giving her up entirely to the service of God, is delightful in her simplicity, and her character gives a charming air of truthfulness and reality to the whole picture. But there is no reason for supposing that the family of the good Jacomo and Lapa were far above the level of their neighbors in virtue and piety, except in the instance of the one chosen soul whose wonderful graces and history have alone saved them from being altogether forgotten, like the mass of their daily companions in the streets and the churches of Siena. What we are told of them reveals that which escapes the notice of the superficial historian--the daily life of a Catholic people, however politically unsettled, and subject to violent outbreaks natural to its hot temperament and passionate disposition--though the character of the Siennese was said to be comparatively gentle and sweet--still thoroughly leavened and penetrated by the faith that had been handed down through an unbroken succession of generations, since the city's first martyr consecrated its soil by his blood. Such, in general, was the population of Italy, and, of course, of great parts of Europe, at that time; and such a population constitutes a resource, as it were, for the Church, that it must take, it would seem, many generations thoroughly to corrupt or to destroy. From the depths of such a people springs ordinarily the ever-fresh crop of eminent saints, who form the chief glories and supports of the Church in their successive generations; and the wide extent to which the principles of Christian faith and practice influence the mass from which they themselves rise, makes it possible for them to gather followers around them, to touch the springs of public action and thought, and to exercise the wonderful influence upon the men of their day which is so strange an enigma to the uncatholic historian. [Footnote 81]

[Footnote 81: Thus Dr. Milman ("Latin Christianity," t. v., p. 891-2) is fairly upset by what he calls a "most extraordinary letter" of St Catharine. It is that in which she relates her assistance of Nicola Tuldo, when under sentence of death and on the scaffold. He adds at the end of his note: "St. Catharine had the stigmata. And this woman interposed between popes, princes, and republics." We may see, perhaps, whether she "interposed," or was entreated to do so; whether her influence was sought by herself, or forced on her by others. ]

The singularly beautiful life of St. Catharine of Siena, written by her friend and confessor, Raymond of Capua, gives us as perfect an account as we could wish to have of the personal and, as it were, private history of the saint, and sets her character before us in the freshest colors, like a picture of Fra Angelico. But it is deficient in that very part of her life to which it is our purpose more particularly to attend. The public influence exercised by St. Catharine was fresh in the recollection of those for whom Fr. Raymond wrote: they wished to be told the antecedents, as it were, of a person whom they had seen brought forward by Providence in so remarkable a manner to support the papacy in an hour of severe trial. A complete life of St. Catharine would have to include a great many points which have been omitted by Raymond; and much that he has mentioned or alluded to would have to be fixed more accurately as to time and place. Nor could any one hope to draw up such a work with success without the fullest acquaintance with the ample collection of her letters. It is from these last that many most important features of her public life would have to be drawn. [Footnote 82] We owe them, probably, to {550} the care with which her disciples or secretaries copied them before they were sent, for it is hardly likely that they could have been otherwise recovered from the persons to whom they were addressed.

[Footnote 82: One of the best sketches of St Catharine's action on public matters with which we are acquainted is contained in the introduction to M. Caltier's recent translation of her letters into French. The "_Histoire de Ste. Catharine_," published many years ago by M. Chavin de Malan, contains a great deal of extraneous matter, and does not scene to as to use the letters as they might have been used. M. Christophe, in his "_Histoire de la Papauté pendant le XlVe Siècle_," falls entirely in giving sufficient importance to the saint. There is a good Italian "_Storia di Sta. Catarina da Siena_," by Fr. Capecelatro, an Oratorian, published a few years ago, in which much use is made of the admirable notes of Fr. Buramacchi to Gilgli's edition of the letters.]

It is not easy to say at what precise time the public action of Catharine began. She was in the twenty-fourth year of her age at the time of the death of Urban V. She had already passed, for about four years, from that life of prayer, mortification, and contemplation with which her saintly career had begun, to one of greater intercourse with others; and she had already brought about some very wonderful conversions, of which Fr. Raymond has given us an account. She had in several cases been successful in obtaining reconciliations between families hostile to one another through the hereditary feuds and traditions of revenge which have always had so baneful an effect on Italian society; but it does not appear that she had had any personal intercourse with Urban V., or any of the great prelates or princes of the time; and perhaps her fame had not travelled far beyond the frontiers of Tuscany. Giacomo Orsini, who passed through Siena in the year following the death of Urban to receive the dignity of cardinal from Gregory XI., may have made her acquaintance in her native town, and carried the report of her wonderful sanctity to the court of Avignon. The next year, 1372, we find her already in correspondence with important persons. War had again broken out between the Holy See and the restless Barnabo Visconti. Barnabo had usurped the dominion of Reggio, a fief of the Church, and had proceeded to other excesses, such as to force Gregory XI. to excommunicate him in 1371. War was now declared; but it was at first favorable to the Milanese tyrant. A league was then organized against him, in which the emperor, the King of Hungary, and the Count of Savoy took part. John Hawkwood, moreover, with his famous English lances, was engaged on the Pontifical side. The success was now chiefly on the side of the league, and Visconti once more betook himself to intrigues and negotiations at Avignon, where he obtained a truce in 1374. We find St. Catharine writing, in 1372, to two great French prelates, the Cardinal Pierre d'Estaing, who had just been appointed legate at Bologna; and the Abbot of Marmontier, a relation of the Pope, who was sent at the same time to govern Peragia and discharge the office of nuncio in Tuscany. Her letters to the cardinal seem to show that she was already known to him. The first contains little but spiritual exhortation, though there is a hint at the end to the saints favorite subject at this time, the crusade against the infidels. In the second she speaks strongly for peace among Christians. The letter to the abbot--who afterward became a cardinal, and died on the schismatical side--is evidently an answer to a letter from him, asking advice for himself and also for the Pope. St. Catharine urges him to prevail on the Holy Father to put down the nepotism that prevailed among high ecclesiastics, to discourage the luxurious worldliness of the prelates, and to choose good and virtuous men as cardinals. A little later we find her writing to the truculent Barnabo himself, the man who made papal legates eat the missives of excommunication which they were charged to deliver to him--who declared that he was Pope in his own dominions, and dressed up a mad priest in mock vestments to excommunicate the Pope in return, and made the monasteries under his rule take charge of his hounds. This letter, again, was in answer to a message brought to Siena from Barnabo by {551} one of his servants. Catharine sets before him the crime he has been guilty of in going to war with the Pope, and exhorts him to make amends for it by taking part in the crusade. The letter seems to have been written after the peace granted to Visconti in 1374. The same date, or perhaps an earlier one, seems to belong to a long letter of the saint to Beatrice della Scala, the wife of Barnabo, in which that lady is urged to become more religious herself, and thus to influence her husband, especially to peace and obedience toward the Holy Father. This letter, also, is in answer to a message.

Catharine's life became still more active than before about this time. She was sent for to Florence by the general of her order, and seems to have gone about to several other cities, such as Pisa and Lucca, and to have exercised great influence everywhere. Her presence had before this begun to attract crowds wherever she went: they came to speak to her, to consult her about the affairs of their souls or their family troubles; and her burning words wrought numberless conversions. The B. Raymond, speaking of this part of her life, tells us in his simple way, "If all the limbs of my body were turned into so many tongues, they would not be enough to relate the fruit of souls which this virgin plant, that the heavenly Father hath planted, did produce. I have sometimes seen a thousand persons or more, men and women, come at the same time, as if drawn by the sound of some unseen trumpet, from the mountains or from the villages in the territory of Siena, to see or to hear Catharine. These persons--I don't say at her words, but even at the mere sight of her--were suddenly struck with compunction for their misdeeds, bewailed their sins, and ran to the confessors, of whom I was one; and so great was the contrition with which they made their confessions, that no one could doubt that a great abundance of grace had descended from heaven upon their hearts. This happened not once or twice only, but very often. For this reason Pope Gregory XI., of happy memory, who was both consoled and rejoiced at this great fruit in souls, granted letters apostolic to me and to my two companions, giving us power to absolve all those who came to see Catharine and to confess their sins, in all the cases for which the bishops of the dioceses had faculties. And that truth, that neither deceives nor can be deceived, knows well that many came to find us out who were laden with great sins, and who had never before made confession, or never received as it ought to be received the sacrament of penance. We--that is, my companions and myself--often remained fasting till evening, and were too few to hear all those who wished to confess; and indeed, to declare my own imperfection, and the influence of this holy virgin, so great was the throng of people wishing to confess that many times I found myself quite worn out and wearied by the excess of fatigue. But Catharine went on praying incessantly; and when the holy prey was won, she rejoiced fully in the Lord, as one who had won a victory, ordering her other sons and daughters to wait upon us, who were tending the nets that she had spread. No pen can express the abundance of the joy in her mind, nor even the signs of gladness that she gave, which indeed gave us so much internal delight as to make us forget the recollection of any sadness whatever we had to undergo." [Footnote 83]

[Footnote 83: _Legenda_, ii. ch., 7.]

Gregory XI. seems before his election to have been well acquainted with St. Bridget, for he was the cardinal through whom she had wished to communicate to Urban V. the message that she had received to deliver to him. He kept up a correspondence with her as long as she lived, and received some tremendous warnings from her about the return of the Holy See to Rome. At the time of which {552} we are speaking, 1374, in the fifth year of his reign, he sent St. Bridget's confessor to Catharine to recommend himself to her prayers. This may have been the opening of the intercourse between them. Of the fourteen letters to Gregory that remain to us, none seem to bear an earlier date than 1376. [Footnote 84] It does not appear certain, therefore, whether she had any direct influence upon the Pope's desire to set on foot a new crusade, which he urged on with much vigor about the time of the peace granted to Visconti. But it was one of St. Catharine's three darling projects; the other two being the reform of the prelacy and the restoration of the papacy to Rome. The fact that her confessor and friend, Fr. Raymond, was appointed to preach the crusade seems to imply that she had been in communication with Gregory upon the subject. We have already said that she proposed to Barnabo himself to take the cross. The idea of sending all the turbulent spirits in Europe to fight against the Turks was not a new one; Urban V. had proposed it to the "companies" who ravaged France and even insulted him by exacting a ransom for Avignon; but the freebooters naturally preferred the less dangerous, though less glorious, life that they were living in France. They were at last persuaded to enlist against Peter the Cruel. In St. Catharine's time there was a proposal of the same kind, with regard to the "bands" in Italy, whom we shall presently see the instruments of the greatest possible mischief to that unhappy country. We have a letter from her to Sir John Hawkwood, from which it appears that he and his followers had actually Engaged to serve in the crusade. Other letters on the subject of the same expedition show that she was now in a position to address herself with effect to the sovereigns of great states. She writes at this time to Queen Joanna of Naples, and to the queen-mother of Hungary, in hopes of her assistance in persuading her son, King Louis. But if the peace with Barnabo had made the crusade once more possible, fresh troubles soon ensued in Italy which prevented it, and which occasioned the still greater prominence of St. Catharine as an earnest advocate of peace.

[Footnote 84: Four of these letters (7-10) were written while Catharine was at Avignon, and were only to be found in Latin among the papers of B. Raymond, who was, it appears, interpreter between the saint and the Pope, who did not understand her Tuscan dialect. M. Chavin de Malan (ii., 369) conjectures that the first three of them may be summaries of _conversations_ that passed at Avignon, taken down afterward by B. Raymond. But internal evidence is against this supposition; and it is not at all unlikely, as the opposition to her influence was so strong, that the Pope preferred that she should communicate with him by letter.]

The disturbances were not, this time, the work of the Visconti. Barnabo turned them to his own advantage, but he was not their author. Historians concur in attributing a feeling of general discontent with the internal administration and external policy of the pontifical government in Italy to the conduct of the French legates. We find very strong charges against them; for example, in the chronicle of St. Antoninus, written in the following century; but it may be questioned whether he did more than repeat what he found in other Florentine writers; and, in this case, the testimony of a Florentine is hardly to be admitted without suspicion. But it is very likely that many of the charges of tyranny, ambition, extortion, and luxury are not unfounded. Still, the internal administration of the States of the Church had been settled by Albornoz, and his system might have carried the government through without an outbreak, even under the trial of administrators quite unworthy to succeed him, had it not been for the suspicions that arose, in cities external to the pontifical territory, that its governors aimed at the subjugation of their neighbors. It thus seemed to become their interest not only to defend themselves, but to anticipate the danger by raising revolts in the States of the Church. It is quite clear that Gregory XI. had no such design {553} himself, and that he would not have tolerated it in his subordinates. Neither are the acts of the latter such as cannot be explained on other grounds. But what is clear to us at a distance was not necessarily so clear to the contemporaries of St. Catharine. Certain measures of the legate at Bologna, and of the governor of Perugia, had an unfortunate look. In the first place, it seems that the diplomacy of that time did not insist, in the case of a confederacy of a number of powers against a common enemy, that peace should not be made by one member of the league without the consent of the remainder. The peace with Barnabo had been made, it appears, without the concurrence of Florence, Pisa, Siena, and the other allies of the Pope. Another cause of soreness was a measure adopted about the same time by the Cardinal Legate of Bologna, which pressed hardly upon Tuscany. The last two years had been years of great scarcity in that part of Italy, and he now forbade the exportation of grain from the Legation. He was no doubt afraid of relieving his neighbors at the risk of suffering himself. But there was more to come. Sir John Hawkwood and his followers had to be discharged on account of the peace; they were no sooner dismissed than they invaded the Florentine territory, attempted to make themselves masters of Prato, and ravaged the country up to the gates of Florence itself. Thus soldiers, only a few days before in the pay of the Holy See, were attacking one of its allies with fire and sword. It looked very like an attempt to enslave Tuscany. At the same time Siena had a complaint of the same sort against the abbot of Montmajor at Perugia. The powerful family of the Salimbeni were at that time in exile from Siena, the last revolution of which city had put the supreme power into the hands of the popular party. The pontifical governor of Perugia leagued himself with the exiles, and thus appeared to be aiming at the destruction of the liberties of Siena.

_Ergo omnis furiis surrexit Etruria justis._Nothing had indeed been done which did not admit of explanation; And, if his legates had really been guilty of aggression, Gregory XI. could, have readily disavowed them. Indeed, he ordered the edict against the exportation of grain from the Romagna to be revoked; in which, however, the cardinal at Bologna refused to obey him. But this conciliatory order came too late. Under such provocation men, and especially Italians, would not wait for explanations. They were jealous of their liberties, and they hated the idea of foreign domination; the representatives of the pontifical government at the time were foreigners to them, and seemed to be seeking to enslave them. Florence flew to arms: she had been long devoted to the Holy See; now she gave herself over to the rule of the faction within her, who had ever been the minority, because they were the enemies of the Pope; and these men, feeling themselves still in reality the weaker party, lost no time in plunging into the most frantic excesses, that they might alienate their country from the Holy Father beyond hope of reconciliation, and wreak their own vengeance on their personal enemies so fully as to leave them no chance of again recovering their power. Hawkwood was soon disposed of; he was bought off for a large sum. The movement in Florence became a revolution, with all its accompaniments of blood, spoliation, and terror. The inquisitors were massacred, the prisons destroyed; the prior of the Carthusians, who presented himself as papal envoy with overtures of reconciliation, was torn to pieces, and his flesh thrown to the dogs. The clergy were withdrawn from the jurisdiction of the Pope; the nomination of benefices assumed by the magistrates of the republic. These, however, were all changed; a committee of eight, a sort of Comité du Salut Publique--called, in derision, the Eight Saints--seized the helm of government; it was a {554} complete reign of terror. But they were not content with turning Florence against the Pope; they sent envoys throughout the whole of Tuscany and Umbria, inviting all the cities to join in league against the pontifical government, and bearing with them red banners inscribed with the word "Libertas." The conduct of the French governors had but too well prepared the subjects of the Pope for these invitations. Citta di Castello led the way; Perugia, Narni, Viterbo, Montefiascone followed; before the end of 1375 nearly the whole of the pontifical territory, the Patrimony, the Duchy of Spoleto, and the March of Ancona, were in open revolt. All that Albornoz had done for the Holy See seemed to have been done in vain. Bologna, almost alone, remained faithful; but even there the government of the legate was very insecure.

It was felt at Avignon that something was now to be dealt with very different even from a war against the Visconti. Some "companies" of Bretons were then ravaging or ransoming cities in the south of France, under two famous captains of the day, Jean de Malestroit and Silvestre de Bude; they were enlisted under the flag of the Church, and prepared to descend on Italy. But Gregory XI. determined to try the method of conciliation before letting them loose. He sent envoys to Florence, who offered terms to which no prudent person could make objection. Perugia and Citta di Castello were to be free, but the Florentines were to cease in their revolutionary propaganda in the States of the Church, and particularly in Bologna. The "eight saints" had all that was reasonable and good in Florence against them, and they dared not openly refuse to entertain terms such as these. But they sent secret instructions to their commander in the field while the negotiations were being carried on; he marched on Bologna, raised the people in revolt, and made the legate a prisoner. They succeeded in their ulterior object: the Papal envoys left Florence without concluding any peace.

After this fresh provocation, nothing remained for the Pope but to attack the Florentines with every weapon at his disposal. The Breton companies were ordered to march, under the general command of the Cardinal Robert of Geneva, a man, it seems, with more of the soldier than the priest about him, who was to be, within three years from the time that he began his expedition, the first of the miserable line of Antipopes who opposed themselves to the legitimate successors of Gregory XI. His present campaign was distinguished chiefly by two events, neither of which cast credit on the pontifical cause: a treaty he made with Visconti (who had before allied himself with the Florentines), by which the Guelfic party in the north of Italy were sacrificed to the enmity of the tyrant; and the awful sack and massacre of Cesena by the Breton troops. But the Pope used spiritual weapons also against offenders like the Florentines; and in their case the temporal consequences of the solemn excommunication under which they fell made themselves far more swiftly and keenly felt than in that of a great seigneur like Barnabo. Their merchants and agents were in every country of Europe: the sentence of the Pope exposed them everywhere to confiscation, imprisonment, and slavery; their commerce was ruined, and it is said that the immediate loss to the city amounted to three million florins. At all events, early in the year 1376, and but a few weeks aft«r they had chosen not to avail themselves of the moderate overtures made by the Papal envoys, the Florentines began to desire peace. It is probable that there had always been but a narrow majority in favor of the violent measures of which we have spoken; now, the great misfortunes of the state made even its revolutionary rulers look about them for a mediator, for their first attempt at negotiation had proved a failure. They had sent two {555} ambassadors to Avignon; but instead of apologizing for their undeniable aggressions, they laid all the blame on the pontifical delegates, and were dismissed by Gregory with a confirmation of their sentence. A mediator, therefore, was necessary; and instead of asking the kind offices of the emperor, or the king of France, or some other of the sovereigns of Europe, they determined to seek the help of Catharine of Siena.

Catharine had been in the midst of the tumult, doing what she could to maintain peace. It seems that Gregory XI. had begged her to go to Lucca, where she was held in great veneration, to keep that city from joining the league against the Church. She had also exerted her influence at Pisa, and seems to have succeeded in both places, though with some difficulty. From Pisa she wrote the first of her series of letters to the Pope. She was still there when the magistrates of Florence invited her to undertake their cause. She visited the city, conversed with the principal men of all parties, and it was agreed that they should send another and a humbler embassy to Avignon, on condition that she should precede the envoys, and endeavor to soften the heart of the Holy Father toward his rebellious children. She was already sending letters to Avignon imploring peace, and urging the Pope to return to Rome, and to raise the standard of the crusaders, in order to unite all discordant elements by directing them to a common object. She had sent her most intimate confidant and confessor, Father Raymond, to plead the cause of the Florentines; and soon followed him herself, accompanied by a number of her "disciples," arriving at Avignon about the middle of June, 1376.

As is so often the case in the lives of the chosen instruments of Providence, Catharine was to do a great work at Avignon, but not the work for which she apparently went there. She was received by the Pope with the greatest kindness and distinction; she was even intrusted by him with full powers to make peace with the Florentines. But Gregory XI. knew the men with whom he was dealing better than she. The government of Florence was still in the hands of the eight; they did not really desire peace, at least on any terms that the Pope could grant them. They had yielded to the vast majority of their fellow-citizens in seeming to wish for what would be in reality the end of their own power. The envoys delayed their journey to Avignon: when they did arrive, and Catharine proposed to use the full powers the Pops had given her, they replied that they had no authority to treat with _her_; nor were they more honest in their dealings with the Pope himself. The time, then, for the particular task that Catharine had undertaken was not yet come; but she was at Avignon now, at the side of Gregory XI., and she was to decide him to a step far more important than the granting a peace to Florence.

The character of Gregory XI. is so constantly represented in the same colors by historians of every grade, that it would seem almost rash to suppose that they could all have been mistaken in the picture. It has a softness and beauty about it that are extremely touching, when viewed in the light of his many misfortunes and early death, overshadowed as it was by the threats of the still greater troubles from which it saved him. He had been marked out for high ecclesiastical dignity from the very first, and was but eighteen when his uncle, Clement VI., made him cardinal. His career after his elevation justified his premature advancement; he made himself famous for learning, and even more so for his tender piety and the unsullied purity of his life. His humility and sweetness won all hearts: perhaps the more because his frail health, his pale countenance, and evident delicacy of constitution, gave a kind of plaintive charm to his very {556} appearance. Though he was barely forty years of age at the death of Urban V., he had been elected Pope after the conclave had lasted but a single night. He had refused at first, but at last had been forced to accept the crown of St. Peter as a matter of duty. He was then only in deacon's orders. No one has ever questioned the purity of his aims, or even the rightness of his views and the soundness of his judgment. We have already said, with regard to one great paramount question of the time, that he had secretly vowed to take back the papacy to Rome, if he ever should be elected pope. But, inheriting as he did the traditions of Clement VI., surrounded in France by noble and powerful relatives, and by cardinals almost exclusively his fellow-countrymen, and with health and constitution that were almost sure to be ruined at once by the air of Rome, everything seemed to forbid him to make the effort that was required. The earlier years of his reign had passed away, not indeed without many thoughts and even declarations on the subject, but without any steps being taken to put the design in execution. In 1374 he had announced his intention of visiting Rome to the emperor; in the following January he had written in the same sense to Edward III. and to other kings of Europe. But that summer and autumn saw the outbreak at Florence, and the great revolution that arrayed almost the whole of the Ecclesiastical States in rebellion against the Church; and the advocates of the French residence of the papacy must have thought themselves safe now that Italy had risen against Gregory. He was not, like Urban V., a pope elected from outside the College of Cardinals, with little sympathy and but few ties with them. He was of one of the great Limousin families, the nephew of the most brilliant of the Avignon popes, surrounded by powerful relatives, all of whom were interested in keeping him where he was. The quiet security of Provence suited him, and he was one of those gentle characters, not wanting in ordinary firmness and decision, which still are more fitted for tranquil times than for days of disturbance, and are more capable of suffering and of patience than of initiating bold measures and breasting the waves of a great emergency. Family and personal influence had much weight with him; not from any active ambition or spirit of nepotism, so much as that it had become at Avignon a matter almost of course that many of the splendid prizes in the gift of the Popes should be bestowed on their relatives. He himself owed his position originally to that custom. At a time when reform was much needed in the prelacy, and many abuses and scandals existed which required to be sternly rebuked and punished, he could see what was wanting more easily than carry it out with a severity alien to his nature. He was influenced by the atmosphere around him. In the same way, notwithstanding his own strong inclination to grant peace on any terms to the Florentines, he seems to have yielded as to his actual policy to the more violent and relentless counsels of the French cardinals, headed by Robert of Geneva, who led the Breton companies over the Alps. It might well have been thought that such a pontiff would not now act against the advice and the wishes of all around him, and that the actual state of Italy would be enough to make him adjourn indefinitely his promised journey to Rome.

To such a character it is sometimes everything to have support and companionship--the mind and the voice of another, however inferior, that seem to give body and life to thoughts and designs not new indeed, but which seemed before to belong rather to the world of dreams and imaginations than of possible realities; to change wishes and longings into practical resolutions; to chase away phantom difficulties, and nerve the will to efforts and sacrifices which the conscience {557} has long prompted. With all of us our own ideas and designs seem sometimes to date their real existence from the moment that we found they were shared by some one else. In the case of Gregory XI., he seems, before the arrival of Catharine at Avignon, to have been almost alone in his wish to return to Italy; and he had already seen something of St. Bridget, and learnt from intercourse with her what the personal influence of great sanctity might be. Catharine at once won his perfect confidence, and her presence gave him the courage to follow out the course which he had long felt to be the right one. It is this which makes it historically true that she had so great a part in the final return of the Holy See from Avignon. It is easy to find reasons why Gregory should have returned; it is easy to show that there was danger that an attempt might be made by the Romans to give their city a bishop of their own creation; or, on the other hand, that Gregory had intended to take the step long before he took it. If these things are alleged to show that the influence of St. Catharine has been exaggerated by her historians, they are beside the point. Her providential mission at Avignon was not to put new considerations before the mind of Gregory, but to strengthen his will to act upon considerations already familiar to him.

The esteem in which the Pope held her was not only manifested by the reception he gave her, and by his inviting her even to speak in public as to what she thought to be required for the best interests of the Church; it also shielded and defended her from the dislike with which her unwelcome presence was viewed by many a magnificent prelate and many a brilliant official of the court of Avignon. The reforms that she spoke of as so necessary, and the return to Rome that she recommended, were equally distasteful to them. Three of the most learned prelates asked leave of the Pope to visit her, and began to catechise her most severely both as to her presumption in coming as the envoy of Florence, and as to her preternatural gifts of prayer and her extraordinary mode of life. But they left her overwhelmingly convinced of her sanctity and wonderful gifts. The fine ladies about the court--the sisters, nieces, and relations of the Pope and the cardinals--looked on her with instinctive dread. Some of them even tried to patronize and make her the fashion; but she either exhorted them plainly to conversion, or turned from them with that stern silence with which her Master received the overtures of the blood-stained paramour of Herodias. One of them--a niece of the Pope-- knelt beside her in apparent devotion, as she was rapt in prayer before communion, and plunged a needle or bodkin into her bare foot, to see whether she could feel it. When her state of abstraction ceased, Catharine could hardly walk, and her sandal was full of congealed blood. The French king heard of her influence with the Pope, and sent his brother, the Duke of Anjou, to dissuade Gregory from listening to her; but Catharine won the respect and admiration of the duke, prevailed on him to offer himself for the crusade, and suggested him to the Pope as its captain-in-chief. Then an attempt was made to influence Gregory by means of the deference that he paid to the advice of saintly souls. A forged letter was sent him--as it appears, in the name of the holy Peter of Aragon--telling him that if he went to Italy he would be poisoned. Catharine showed him that the letter was not such as a servant of God would write, and that poison could be given him in France as well as in Italy. After all, the Pope still hesitated; he made preparations and issued orders, but it was with slowness and reluctance; and at any time a change might come over the state of affairs in Italy that might be the occasion of indefinite delay. One day again he asked her opinion. She said she was a poor weak woman; how should she {558} give advice to the sovereign Pontiff? "I do not ask you to counsel me," he replied, "but to tell me what is the will of God." Again she excused herself; and Gregory again urged her, commanding her at last, by virtue of her obedience, to tell him what she knew of God's will as to the matter. She bowed her head--"Who knows the will of God better than your holiness, who have promised him by vow to return to Rome?" Gregory had never revealed his vow to living soul; and from that moment his determination was taken. Still the opposition was great and powerful. The cardinals urged him with the example of an excellent Pope, Clement IV., who had never done anything without the approval of the Sacred College. Catharine met their arguments, she even went so far as to urge the Pope to depart secretly, so obstinate and so influential was the party that wished to retain him in France. At length, on September 13, 1376, amid the remonstrances of his family and the tears of his aged father, as well as the sullen complaints of the whole court, Gregory XI. left Avignon. Catharine had remained to the last, and then went on foot with her companions to Genoa, whither the Pope was to pass by sea. It seemed as if every kind of influence that could beat down his courage was to be allowed to work upon the failing heart of Gregory. Everything that could be turned into a bad omen was carefully noted. His horse refused to let him mount; then it became so restive that another had to be brought. As he passed by Novis, Orgon, and Aix to Marseilles, everywhere the inhabitants were in tears and gloom. Marseilles itself, when he came to embark, was the scene of a grand explosion of grief. Then there came the terrors of a dangerous voyage, from the extremely severe weather encountered by the fleet. The grand master of the Knights of St. John himself took the helm of the galley in which the Pope sailed--a weather-beaten veteran, accustomed to perils of all sorts, who had to exert all his skill under the storm that came on as they made across toward Genoa. They were obliged to put into Villafranca for some days. It was not till the 18th of October, sixteen days after leaving Marseilles, that Genoa was reached. Here the Pope was met by bad news from Rome and from Florence; the Florentines, alarmed at his approach, were preparing for the most desperate hostilities; the Romans seemed quite unwilling to put the government of the city into his hands. A consistory was held (the greater number of the cardinals were with the Pope), and the resolution was adopted not to proceed further with the journey. All seemed lost; but Catharine with her company was in Genoa. The Pope sought her out--it is said, by night; and from her calm and fervent words gained fresh strength and courage to pursue his journey to the end. [Footnote 85]

[Footnote 85: See Capecelatro, "_Storia di Santa Catarina_," lib. v., p. 222, 2d ed.]

So, after ten days spent at Genoa, the fleet once more put to sea, to be driven again into Porto Fino, where the feast of All Saints was kept. It arrived at Leghorn on the 7th of November, and there again lingered ten or eleven days. As far as Piombino all went well. When the galleys left that port, another storm--the most violent of all they had met with--arose, and drove them back shattered and disabled; three cardinals were seriously ill, one of whom died at Pisa a few days later. At last Corneto was reached on December 6, more than two months after the departure from Marseilles. Gregory remained there for several weeks to regain his strength, and then sailed up the Tiber, landing near the basilica of St. Paul on January 17, 1377, the day before the feast of the Roman Chair of St Peter. His entrance was a triumph that seemed to promise him every security for peace and tranquillity; and the joy and devotion of the Romans may {559} have taken away for the moment the mournful feelings with which he had turned his back on France. Thus, a year and a half after the revolution at Florence, which, had caused so rapid and widespread a defection among the cities of the Pontifical States, and seemed to threaten the very existence of the temporal power of the Church, these very events, which might have seemed likely to furnish reason for the prolonged exile of the papacy, brought about, under the providence of God, the fulfilment of the resolution to return to Rome which the Pope had so long delayed to accomplish. The instrument of the deliverance of the Holy See from its dangerous position was the envoy of its rebellious children, the humble maiden from Siena.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

BY AUBREY DE VERE.

Primeval night had repossess'd Her empire in the fields of peace; Calm lay the kine on earth's dark breast; The earth lay calm in heaven's embrace.

That hour, where shepherds kept their flocks, From God a glory sudden fell; The splendor smote the trees and rocks. And lay like dew along the dell.

God's angel close beside them stood: "Fear naught," that angel said, and then, "Behold, I bring you tidings good: The Saviour Christ is born to men."

And straightway round him myriads sang Loud song again, and yet again, Till all the hollow valley rang "Glory to God, and peace to men."

The shepherds went and wondering eyed, In Bethlehem born, the heavenly stranger. Mary and Joseph knelt beside: The Babe was cradled in the manger!

{560}

From The St. James Magazine.

LAW AND LITERATURE.

Notwithstanding the seeming incongruity, there subsists a very intimate connection between law and literature. To the legal profession, more than any other, we are indebted for the magnitude and splendor of our literature. Nor is it only with one or two branches or divisions of literature that the connection exists. On the contrary, there is scarcely a single department in which the legal profession is not represented. History, biography, philosophy, metaphysics, poetry, the drama, fiction, oratory, criticism, and even theology, have all been contributed to by men who at one time or other were connected with the legal profession. Nor is the literature which has emanated from that source of a superficial or evanescent nature. Much of it has passed away, and is now almost unknown; but a great deal still remains, forming some of the best and most endurable of our classics. And these contributions have been--and still are being--made in spite of the opposition and discountenance of the legal profession itself.

There is an opinion very prevalent among the public generally, and the legal profession in particular, that the study of literature is at variance and inconsistent with the study of law; that the more the former is indulged in, the more the latter will decline. In support of this opinion we are told that very few men have distinguished themselves in both avocations; that men of great literary attainments have seldom risen to eminence in the legal profession. That is, no doubt, true; but I attribute it to a very different cause. I consider that the study of literature must have a beneficial effect upon a lawyer, provided that it is made subservient to the business of his profession.

The duties which lawyers are called upon to discharge are many and various, and consequently a vast deal of general knowledge is indispensable to the formation of a really good lawyer. It is not sufficient that he is well versed in legal principles and precedents. Without these he cannot succeed in his profession; but they are not the only requisites. There are many cases in which legal principle and precedent are only of secondary importance. It is when he is called upon to deal with such cases that the lawyer feels the advantages of varied information. If he is ignorant of almost everything but law, he must be painfully aware of his utter incompetence to do justice to his client. He is compelled to grope his way like a man in the dark; he wanders at random, stumbling over everything that lies in his path, and ends, it may be, by falling into a ditch from which he vainly attempts to extricate himself--every attempt only causing him to sink deeper--and is at last compelled to call for help. But it is different with the man who, in addition to his legal knowledge, is possessed of much general and varied information. He can always see his way, and, if assistance is necessary, he knows where to seek for, and seldom fails in obtaining it. It is only to a lawyer of this latter stamp that any man with his eyes open would intrust the care of interests which involved other than strictly legal questions.

Now if it be true that a large amount of general knowledge is necessary to the formation of a really good lawyer, then it must be admitted that the study {561} of literature is an indispensable part of his professional education. The arts and sciences are all represented in literature; and it is only in the study of literature that the requisite general information can be gained. The error appears to me to consist in confounding the term _literature_ with _amusing literature_. This confusion of terms is very common; but it is also very absurd. When I speak of "literature," I use the word in its most comprehensive sense; and if I were to be understood as meaning solely "amusing literature," my meaning would be grossly perverted. There is no ground for accepting a limited interpretation unless the term used is expressly qualified.

Ease, fluency, and polish, not only in speaking, but also in writing, are likewise indispensable to a lawyer, particularly in the higher walks of the profession. In order to attain these requisites, conciseness, concentration, and arrangement of thought must be diligently studied. There is nothing which tends more to the acquirement of such qualities than the careful examination of them as displayed in the writings and speeches of others, and the frequent expression of our own thoughts, both in writing and in speech. Law treatises, it need scarcely be said, are not conspicuous as models of either ease, fluency, or polish; and therefore the lawyer who aspires to these accomplishments must seek elsewhere for his models. In this respect, also, the study of literature is beneficial to the lawyer; and if attentive reading be accompanied with frequent careful writing and speaking, he cannot fail ultimately to gain the objects of his desire. If the members of the legal profession would bestow more pains than they do to the acquisition of a good style of writing and speaking, the advantages which would accrue to them would greatly outweigh all the trouble incurred. I have seen letters and even pleadings written, and heard speeches delivered, by men of eminence in the legal profession, which displayed either the grossest carelessness or the most lamentable ignorance of the rules, not only of composition, but also of grammar; and such as would have been almost inexcusable in a schoolboy. It is a common notion that elegance is not required, and is out of place in law papers and in letters. I for one cannot agree in that opinion. An elegant style is always desirable. It is preposterous to assert--as many people do--that attention to style begets a habit of neglecting the substance for the sake of the shadow. On the contrary, an elegant style adds to the effect both of speech and writing; and therefore it ought to be cultivated by every lawyer.

So much for the general objection that the study of literature is incompatible with the study of law. I think I have said quite sufficient to show that it ought to form a part of the education of every lawyer. But with reference to the proof of the assertion, that men of distinguished literary attainments have seldom risen to eminence in the legal profession, I could name many men who have rendered themselves conspicuous for their literary abilities, and, at the same time, gained the highest honors of their profession. Yet I admit that overwhelming evidence of a contrary nature might easily be adduced; but I do not admit the reason to be that the one profession is incompatible with the other. I maintain the reverse. The reason why comparatively few lawyers have risen to eminence, both in literature and in law, appears to me to be simply this, that whenever their literary leanings became known, the opportunity was denied them of distinguishing themselves in their profession; the consequence of which was that they abandoned the study of law altogether, and betook themselves to the more agreeable and less laborious occupation of literature. And it must also be borne in mind that law is not always studied with the view of engaging in its practice; but often with the {562} sole purpose of gaining admission to the bar for the sake of its social advantages, or with the aim of acquiring such a knowledge as will be useful in legislative discussion.

I now proceed to consider the causes which lead to the intimate connection between law and literature. I do not think they are difficult of explanation. Speaking generally, it may be said that the lawyers who have distinguished themselves in literature have been for the most part members of the bar. Comparatively few have been members of the other branches of the profession. In England intending barristers must be students of an inn of court for three years, [Footnote 86] during which time they are not permitted to engage in any business. In Scotland, too, every applicant for admission into the faculty of advocates must have graduated either in arts or in laws; or undergo an examination in Latin, Greek (or in his option, in lieu of Greek, two of the following languages, viz., French, German, Italian, and Spanish), ethical and metaphysical philosophy, and logic or (in his option) mathematics, beside an examination in the civil law and the law of Scotland; and one year must be passed without an occupation. Having been called to the bar, a few years generally elapse before much business is intrusted to them, and often it never comes at all. During all this time something must be done--An occupation of some kind must be found either for pleasure or to kill time; or it may be to earn a means of subsistence. Literature--to which their previous training inclines them--is the only employment which is available; and accordingly literature is resorted to. A taste for letters is thus fostered. Its gratification has a twofold advantage, it affords both pleasure and profit. It becomes a habit, and is indulged in on every available occasion. There is always plenty of leisure, at least for many, years, and that leisure is devoted to literature. The employment is so seductive that in many cases its legal votaries are drawn away from their regular studies--which unfortunately often happen not to be profitable in a pecuniary sense-- and adopt literature as a profession. Even lawyers with a large practice can occasionally find time for indulging in literary pursuits. During vacation they have plenty of leisure, and as they are accustomed to constant hard work in session, they experience a want and a craving whenever the have nothing to do, and this they endeavor to satisfy by devoting themselves to literature. Many of the most eminent men at the bar occupy the greater portion of their spare time in literary studies.

[Footnote 86: Now, before being admitted as _students_ they must have passed a public examination at an university, or undergo an examination in Latin, English language, and English history.]

The practice of law eminently qualifies a man for attaining distinction in literature. It engenders rapidity of thought, systematic arrangement of arguments and ideas, and facility of expression. Lawyers in the enjoyment of any considerable practice are almost constantly called upon to form their opinion and give it expression, apparently without time for even the most superficial reflection. Continual exercise renders these easy to them. In setting forth their arguments both in written and in oral pleadings they are trained to habits of carefulness and close reasoning; because they know very well that any inconsistencies or false reasoning will at once be discovered by the judges whom they are addressing, or by the opposite counsel. What would impose upon a jury, or upon an ordinary reader or listener, will not impose either upon the judges or opposing counsel. They are thus led to say what they wish to say in the clearest manner, and in the way which is most likely to succeed in gaining the object in view. As they are compelled to avoid false reasoning and inconsistencies themselves, so they are ever on the outlook for them on the part of {563} an opponent--it becomes, in fact, a habit. Again, the various duties which they are called upon to discharge enable them to pass from one subject to another with ease and readiness, and compel them to acquire a vast amount of general information which is carefully stored up for future use. The habits thus engendered and constantly exercised, either in written pleading or in oral debate, are easily transferred to literature when that is indulged in. As perspicuity, arrangement, and close reasoning are the very qualities which lead to literary success, and as these are more exercised and consequently more perfect among lawyers than among any other class of men, the reason why they occupy such an eminent position in literature is easily understood.

There are two departments of literature to which the foregoing observations are applicable only to a limited extent--poetry and fiction. In many respects poetry and fiction are analogous: and the old adage, "_Poeta nascitur, non fit_," may, therefore, with almost equal propriety, be applied to the writer of fiction. However true it may be that the poet _is born_, there can be no doubt that the development of the poetic faculty is quite as much a matter of hard study and practice as the development of any other inborn faculty. The study of law is the opposite of poetical; but this very antagonism begets in the lawyer, by comparison, a keener relish for and appreciation of poetry, when he turns to it in his hours of leisure. And if he is gifted with the "faculty divine," the delight taken in its cultivation will be greater, because it is to him a relief from the dry details of his ordinary pursuits. He sees, too, so much of human life--of character and passion--in the course of his professional career, that he is enabled to delineate with truth, with strict adherence to reality, the feelings and emotions which he attempts to exhibit in the creatures of his imagination. These, combined with the habits of continuity of thought and forcible expression engendered by his professional studies, must contribute in no slight degree to his success as a poet or novelist. I do not mean to say that any lawyer may write a good novel or poem if he will only apply himself to the task. All I assert is that if he is gifted with the poetic faculty, his professional studies, when properly attended to, will contribute materially to his success as a poet or novelist.

MISCELLANY.

_Fossil Wood in Flint_.--An interesting specimen of this kind, which is in the Oxford collection, has lately been described and figured in a paper by Professor Phillips. The nodule of flint, which, when broken across, disclosed the contained wood, was of an elongated oval form, and had the uneven and knotted surface which frequently indicates aggregation on a sponge. The fractured surface showed partial change of color by watery action from without, and many variations of tint within, arising from some original differences in the composition of the mass. The color was, on the whole, somewhat lighter than is common in flints of the "Upper Chalk." Examined with a lens, it showed traces of spicula and other organic bodies; but it was impossible to trace through the mass a distinct spongy structure. The wood lay in the centre, and the figure of the flint was, in a general sense, conformed to it, and embraced it equally on all sides. There was a certain distinctness of color in the flint {564} where it lay in contact with the wood. The wood was a fragment worn and rounded in some of the prominent parts, and looked like a small portion of a pine branch which had been exposed to rough treatment, so as to present a wasted surface deprived of the bark. It was entirely siliceous, and exhibited its vegetable structure most perfectly. Traversing the woody fibres were several short, tubular masses swollen at the end, and marked more or less plainly with transverse rings. These Professor Phillips supposed to be flint moulds of cavities left by boring shells, probably _Teredinidae_. It would appear that these animals must have begun their operations in a young state on the wood, when it was reduced to its present form and size; for the moulds which remain in their holes appear to be quite small at the surface, and to expand internally. The writer of the paper becomes absolutely poetical in his speculations upon the remnant of extinct vegetation which he described. He writes: "Far away from the Cretaceous Sea of Albion, among the mountains previously uplifted in the West, from which had flowed the great river of the Wealden, we see a forest of coniferous trees. Whirled and broken to fragments by the rushing stream which received their decaying stems, the ruins of the forest reach the sea, and some few pieces float far from the shore beyond the area of deposited mud and drifted sand. Attacked by xylophagous mollusks, and sinking to the ocean bed, one, at least, serves as the nucleus for organic growth and accretion." Professor Phillips does not here refer to ordinary accretion; he conceives of the block as first surrounded by organic matter, and then, when buried in the cretaceous deposit, serving as a centre of attraction for siliceous solutions, such as have more than filled to solidity the tissues of sponges.--_Popular Science Review_.

_The Removal of Neuralgic Pain_.--It has lately been stated in some of the French journals that Dr. Caminiti, of Messina, has discovered a remedy for certain forms of neuralgia. A patient of his had long been suffering from trifacial neuralgia; she could not bear to look at luminous objects, her eyes were constantly watering, and she was in constant pain. Blisters, preparations of belladonna, and hydrochlorate of morphine, friction with tincture of aconite, pills of acetate of morphine and camphor, subcarbonate of iron, etc., had been employed with but partial success, or none whatever. At length Dr. Caminiti, attributing the obstinacy of the affection to the variations of temperature so frequent in Sicily, adopted the expedient of covering all the painful parts with a coating of collodion containing a certain proportion of hydrochlorate of morphine. This treatment was perfectly successful; the relief was instantaneous and permanent, and the coating fell off in the course of one or two days.

_The Maltese Fossil Elephant_.--The curious pigmy pachyderm whose remains were some time ago discovered in the Maltese bone-caves, has been indefatigably investigated by its original discoverer, Dr. Leith Adams. This gentleman has recently met with further relics of the fossil elephant in several new localities. He met with its teeth in great quantities in a cavern near Crendi. In a gap, evidently at one time the bed of a torrent, he has discovered the teeth and bones of thirty more individuals. The skeletons are met with jammed between large blocks of stone in a way which shows clearly that the carcases must have been hurled into their present situations by violent floods or freshets. Dr. Adams has now almost completed the skeleton of this wonderful little representative of an order which, till this discovery was recorded, had been commonly termed gigantic. Dr. Adams concludes, from his numerous inquiries, that the Maltese elephant did not exceed the height of a small pony.

_The Volcanic District of Chili_.--Some short time since, M. Pissis, the great explorer of South American geology, transmitted to M. Elie de Beaumont an elaborate description of the volcanic regions of Chili. He found the volcano of Chillans again in a state of eruption. This is a very rare circumstance in the volcanoes of the Andes, where the eruptions generally succeed each other only at very long intervals. The present eruption, which is much more extensive than the last one, commenced toward the end of last November, at a new point, situated about 200 metres below the summit of the grand cone, the new cone having toward the end of January attained a height of fifty {565} metres. The lava, escaping by two apertures near the summit, had already reached the vast glacier surrounding this massive volcano. The grand cone, which was covered with snow during the eruption, had the appearance of being completely bare, yet the snow had not been melted, but was covered with a great quantity of projected substances, which formed a layer over the snow of many decimetres in thickness. The alternation of glaciers with layers of scoriae are frequently met with in the volcanic cones of the Andes; wherever natural clefts occur, a great number of these layers may be seen successively superposed. The volcano of Antuco, visited last year, had been in eruption on a small scale in 1863. As no solid bodies were being projected at the time of his visit, M. Pissis was enabled to examine the interior of the crater, and, favored by a strong westerly wind, to observe it without being annoyed by the acid vapors which escape in abundance. The principal column of vapor proceeded from an aperture nearly circular, being recognized as that through which the lava had escaped. Its diameter was only from four to five feet.

_Transferring Photographs to Metal for Printing_--Some months since we called attention to some very promising experiments in this direction, conducted by Mr. Woodbury, of Manchester. These have resulted in a process recently patented, which is likely to assume a very important position in the arts. Mr. Fox Talbot has the merit of first pointing out the facta upon which it is based. This gentleman, to whom photographers too often forget how much they owe, discovered in connection with one of his photo-engraving processes that gelatine when dissolved in hot water, if mixed with bichromate of potash or ammonia, dried, and exposed to the action of light, would become insoluble--a result due to the decomposition of the alkaline bichromate and the liberation of chromic acid. It will at once, therefore, be seen that a coat of the bichromated gelatine on a glass or metal plate placed under a negative and exposed to light, would, when subjected to the action of hot water, be dissolved away in some parts, and in other parts unaffected, thus producing a photographic positive _in relief_. Acting on these facts, Mr. Woodbury takes the image in relief so produced, and either by mechanical pressure with some soft metal, such as type metal, or by the usual process of electrotyping, produces an _intaglio_ impression therefrom. A properly prepared ink, formed with gelatine and some black or other colored pigment, is then passed over the plate, with which the impression is filled up even to the surface. Of course the gradations of _relief_ in the bichromatic gelatine print form gradations of _depth_ in the metal intaglio, in which again the ink, being transparent, forms gradations of blackness proportioned to its varying thicknesses. When this ink is transferred to paper, delivered as a jelly is from its mold, the delicate tints, the deepest shadows, and the intermediate gradations of the photographic negative are faithfully reproduced. In preparing the relievo, two ounces of gelatine are dissolved in six of water, and to this is added three-quarters of an ounce of lump sugar. Four ounces of a solution containing sixty grains of bichromate of ammonia to the ounce being added to this, the whole is then, while quite warm, strained. A plate of glass is next covered with a sheet of talc temporarily fixed by a few drops of water; the talc is coated with the above, and being sensitive to light, is placed in the dark to set. This done, the coated talc is removed, a negative laid over the talc, and exposed to light in the usual way, the only change being that of causing the light to pass through a glass condenser and fall on it in a parallel direction. The hot water is then applied as above stated. In order to insure perfect flatness while the cast is being taken, the talc side of the film should be again fastened to a plate of glass with Canada balsam. Mr. Woodbury calculates that with three or four presses going, these mechanically printed photographs could be produced at the rate of 120 per hour. Apart from ordinary purposes, the process can be applied to glass for transparencies; to china for burning in with enamel colors; to the production, at a cheaper rate, of porcelain transparencies, etc., etc. At present the prints exhibited are said to lack clearness; and the high relief of the extreme darks is also objected to.--_Popular Science Review_.

{566}

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

MEMOIR AND SERMONS OF THE REV. FRANCIS A. BAKER, Priest of the Congregation of St. Paul. Edited by the Rev. A. F. Hewit. Crown octavo, 504 pp. New York: Lawrence Kehoe.

Now and then, in our way through this world, we encounter persons of a peculiar character, so placidly gentle in their manners, so unworldly in all their ways, that they do not seem fairly to belong to this world at all. Not that they are melancholy, reserved, and unsocial. On the contrary, they play their own part in society thoroughly and well; so well, indeed, so thoroughly do they harmonize in every circle where they may be thrown, so little they display of that roughness and rudeness, that froward importunity, that obstinate self-will, self-conceit, and self-devotion which are so common among us, although we acknowledge them as blemishes upon our nature--in fine, so much more perfectly do they wear the garment of humanity than we ourselves, and so easily, that they seem like better creatures from a better world, mingling among us like good angels sent hither to exhibit before our eyes the perfect type of a true manhood. Of course, all men have their temptations and imperfections, but the ordinary life of some rare men is such as we have described; so they appear before the world, and so they live in the memories of their friends. So will Father Baker long live in many memories. That joyous face, that sweet smile, that gentle voice, that soft step, have passed away. One may visit the Paulists still in their convent, and a thousand attractions lead us there, but we shall miss Father Baker. So quietly, so easily, so naturally he dropped into his place--and everyplace was his that charity, and courtesy, and Christian zeal found open--no one could appreciate how much he did, what large areas he occupied on this scene of life, until he was taken away. Who will now make up the loss to his brethren? Who will take his place in the missions? Who will comfort and sustain that long line of penitents? Who will guide the feet of those converts? Who will supply in the churches that silver voice, now soft as the flute, now thrilling like the trumpet, that roused us and warned us, that pierced our hearts betimes as with a sword, and yet so kindly that we would not wish to escape unwounded? Our sorrow for such a loss can find no refuge but in resignation. "The Lord gave, And the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

In this volume of memoirs F. Hewit has undertaken a far greater task than merely to respond to the fond recollection of friends, or to pay a tribute to the memory of a good priest. He has made a most valuable contribution to the Catholic literature of this country. One of the most pregnant periods in the history of our American Church is that during which Father Baker was either a student or a Protestant preacher. That aspiration toward Catholicism called Puseyism (although, in truth, Dr. Pusey was not its chief ruling and guiding spirit) which swelled in the hearts of so many members of the Church of England, so called, who struggled for a reformation, or restoration, until their great water-logged craft, timbered, and tinkered, and coppered by so many sovereigns and parliaments, shook and trembled in every joint, and which finally burst forth in a flood of conversions to the Catholic Church--that memorable movement gave birth to a parallel agitation here, and with the same results. In no part of the country perhaps, New York excepted, was the storm greater than in the diocese of Baltimore, where Father Baker and his biographer then resided. In these memoirs we see graphically portrayed the rising, the swelling, and the various fluctuations of that storm. All this belongs to Catholic history, and Catholics ought to know it. Episcopalians are glad to forget those days, and no writer of theirs will dare to recall the stirring scenes which displayed their own religion in its poverty and helplessness, and drove so many gallant but tempest-weary souls into the haven of the true Church. Those, however, who like Father Hewit participated in this revival of true faith, and had the courage to follow the truth which it {567} unfolded, have no reason to be ashamed of the history, and he gives it in life-like colors. This part of his task is charmingly done. We have here descriptions of Baltimore and its churches, both Anglican and Catholic; early rambles of the author with Father Baker through the city, when a secret impulse led them so often to visit the Catholic sanctuaries, especially that quiet little Sulpician church of St. Mary's--sweet and holy spot it is indeed; the amusing efforts of the Protestant bishop and his disciples to ape Catholicism, at least in its exterior dress, with their long cassocks, crosses, their profound bows before naked altars draped in broadcloth or velvet, like drawing-room tables; the very natural wrath of the Low-Churchmen--all this is placed before us very naturally, and with a life-like simplicity. Our biographer has had, moreover, the good judgment to recognize what great questions are involved in the life of a convert such as Father Baker, and he takes them up directly and boldly. The pretensions of Anglicanism to be a branch of the universal Church, and a representative to the world of Catholicism, are exposed with a straightforward, nervous logic which leaves poor donkey little room to sport the lion's skin.

Perhaps the most interesting portion of these valuable memoirs is that which contains a series of letters, written by Father Baker to an intimate friend, during the last ten years before his conversion. There are chasms in this correspondence, but they are well filled up by the explanations of his biographer. We have here a glimpse of his inner life, and a chart is given us, imperfect, of course, but deeply interesting, of that pathway by which he was led to the Church. It commences with the pleasing delusions of a young _Puseyite_ who looked upon his own insulated communion as the great Church Catholic, and his little table within the chancel as an altar of sacrifice, and his cross, and candlesticks, and other clandestine playthings, as legitimate heirlooms of Anglican devotion. Thus he writes: "Your brother told me of his intended repairs in his church. I am delighted to hear it. It will not be long, I hope, before such is the universal arrangement of our churches. Only one thing will be lacking (if he has a cross), the candlesticks. I have come to the conclusion that we have a perfect right to them, for they will come in by the Church common-law, as the surplice did" (p. 71). By-and-bye comes a change. "The workings of a mind and heart struggling with doubt and disquietude, weary of a hollow and unreal system, weaned from all worldly hopes, detaching itself from all earthly ties, and striving after truth and after God, become more and more manifest, until at last, after seven long years, the result is reached." The result is announced in the following brief and startling communication to his friend:

BALTIMORE, April 5, 1858. MY DEAR DWIGHT: The decision is made. I have resigned my parish, and am about to place myself under instruction preparatory to my being received into the Catholic Church. I can write no more at present. May God help you. "Your affectionate friend, "FRANCIS A. BAKER."

Three years after this, namely, in the summer of 1856, commenced Father Baker's career as a Catholic priest and missionary, which continued until his death. During this time his active life was bound up with that of his associates, first in the Redemptorist order, and then in the new congregation of St. Paul, formed by himself and his fellow-missionaries. His biographer, therefore, furnishes us a description of those protracted spiritual exercises called "Missions," with a brief history of their introduction into this country. Then follows an account of those missions in which Father Baker took part, or rather it is a portfolio of pictures in which the more serious labors of the mission are shadowed in the perspective, while gay groups of various kinds and colors are made to figure in the foreground. Father Hewit has given himself a great latitude, accommodating himself to the literary tastes of our day, and his readers will certainly thank him for it. When these missionary campaigns were actually going on, it was hard toil all the year round, and little play; but in retracing their course with us our author avoids the dry details, which would involve much repetition, and recalls in preference the sunshiny hours of relaxation, and the pleasing incidents which befel them on their way and relieved their labors. Turning away, therefore, boldly from the regular highway of biography, we are conducted hither and {568} thither in a professional ramble around the United States. "Follow my leader" is the word, and down the lanes we go, and over the fences, and into the green fields. Now we find ourselves in Savannah, chatting with the old negro preacher as he sits "in the sun, on a little stool, holding his cow by a rope around her horns, while she nibbles the grass that grows along the streets." Now we are gazing on the gentleman hermit of Edgefield, in rags, and bare-footed, fasting on bread and water, and reading the "Fathers of the Desert," "Brownson's Review," and other ascetical books good for hermits. Now, again, we mingle with a motley company on a coasting steamer, while the philosopher and the spiritualist are discussing the question, "Can God annihilate space?" The next moment we are at St. Augustine, in the casemates of the old fort or castle of St. Marco, and take a look at the narrow loop-hole through which, after a course of rigid fasting, the Seminole chief Wild Cat was enabled to escape to his home in the everglades. Presently we follow Father Baker and his comrades to Charleston, where, then, "all was peace, Sumter solitary and silent, untenanted by a single soldier." Soon, again, we are in New York, then in New Jersey, then among the coal mines of Pennsylvania, and then (seriously and not profanely be it said) we go to Halifax. Kalamazoo, Covington, Quebec, St. Louis, are visited in their turn, and a host of other places huddled together in that small area to which these wandering apostles restrict their labors. We like this seven-year trip with Father Baker and the Paulists, and we like the free, off-hand, and original way in which F. Hewit curries us through it, with all his digressions. These digressions may be sins against the rules of biographical composition, but if so they are "capital" ones.

The last fifteen pages of the memoirs contain the story of Father Baker's sickness and death; a sad story, indeed, but sadly sweet to those who knew him well. Their eyes will be watered with tears as they read it, but happy tears, such drops as form the rainbow when the sun smiles on the summer shower. There was a light from heaven on the death-bed of Father Baker that is stronger than our grief.

The volume contains twenty-nine sermons of Father Baker, chiefly parochial discourses, with a few others selected from those he was accustomed to preach on the missions. It is unnecessary for us to make any comment on these. His eloquence and his style are well known. He was a model preacher, as well as a model Christian and a model priest. The art of sacred eloquence is little understood among us, and therefore we hail this contribution to it with enthusiasm. It will show the young pulpit orator how the Word of God will admit of legitimate ornament, which is neither derived from the theatre, the lecture-room, nor the political rostrum. We never listened to a preacher of whom it can be more appropriately said: _"How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, and that preacheth salvation."_

This work is well printed on super-fine paper and handsomely bound. We have no doubt that the numerous friends of Father Baker will be glad to obtain this delightful memoir of his life and labors.

THE TEMPORAL MISSION OF THE HOLY GHOST. By Henry Edward Manning, D.D., Archbishop of Westminster. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

The Messrs. Appleton have again rendered a great service to the reading public, especially the Catholic portion of it, by republishing a standard work in English Catholic literature. The author of this work, Archbishop Manning, was formerly a dignified clergyman of the Established Church of England, and one of the leaders of the Oxford movement. He was the Archdeacon of Chichester, a position in the English Church next in rank to the episcopate, and conferring a quasi-episcopal dignity and jurisdiction. He is said to have possessed in the highest degree the confidence of the English government, and to have been the person most frequently consulted concerning political measures relating to the interests of the ecclesiastical establishment. The _London Weekly Register_ states, on what it claims to be authentic information, that he was marked for promotion to the episcopal bench. But, far beyond the distinction conferred on him by hierarchical position, was the influence which he wielded by the simple force of his intellectual and moral superiority. His writings, especially a treatise {569} on "The Unity of the Church," raised him to the first rank as an advocate of the principles of the High-Church party. In the first stage of the Oxford movement, he was considered a more safe and judicious advocate of its principles than Dr. Pusey and Mr. Newman, and his name and opinions had more weight with the bishops and the superior clergy on account of the calm, moderate, and thoroughly ecclesiastical spirit and tone of his character and writings. After Mr. Newman's conversion, Archdeacon Manning succeeded in a great measure to his vacant throne, and held it for about six years. He led the second great movement from Oxford to Rome, and his conversion, which occurred in 1851, made nearly as great a sensation, on both sides of the Atlantic, as that of Mr. Newman had done in 1845. Six months after his reception into the Catholic Church he was ordained priest. Some time after he joined the "Oblates of St. Charles," a religious congregation founded by St. Charles Borromeo, and established a house in London, of which he was appointed the superior. He received also the appointment of provost of the Cathedral of Westminster and was decorated by the Holy Father with the title of a Roman prelate. During the thirteen years of his priesthood he has been most actively and zealously employed in laboring for the advancement of the Catholic faith, chiefly by preaching, writing books, and privately instructing converts from the educated classes, in which latter work he has been remarkably successful. It is probably for this reason that, in spite of his remarkable amenity of mind and character, and the extreme courtesy and gentleness which characterize his controversial writings, he has been regarded and spoken of by the English in so hostile a manner, and that his appointment to the see of Westminster seemed to awaken a feeling of resentment. The mind and character of Archbishop Manning are sure, however, to command, in the long run, the respect of all classes of men, however widely they may differ from him in their theological opinions; and although certain English susceptibilities may have been unpleasantly irritated by his elevation, yet the general verdict will agree that the Holy Father has placed a most worthy successor in the vacant chair of the illustrious Cardinal Wiseman.

In the book before us the author treats of the office of the Holy Ghost, as sent by the Father and the Son in the temporal order; that is, in the order established in time, through which the principal operation _ab extra_ of the Blessed Trinity is accomplished, viz., the redemption of the human race. In a very interesting introduction he takes occasion to explain in part the motives of his conversion, by pointing out the connection between the Catholic doctrines which he held as an Anglican and their complements in the full system of Catholicism. In the body of the work he discusses the office of the Holy Ghost in relation to the Church, to Reason, to Holy Scripture, and to the Divine Tradition of the Faith. This includes a very wide scope of doctrine, embracing revelation, the medium through which revealed truths are proposed, explicated, and defined; the formation of Christian theology and philosophy; the relation of faith to science, and the whole subject of the inspiration and interpretation of Scripture.

If we may be allowed to express a modest opinion on the subject, we should say, that the principal merit of Dr. Manning, as a theological writer, lies in his ability to unfold the analogy of faith, and expose the _inter-communion_, so to speak, of the great truths of natural and revealed religion with one another. He shows pre-eminently in his writings that gift which is denominated in theology "the gift of intelligence;" that is, the gift by which the mind penetrates the interior essence of the doctrines of faith, and their interior relations. His exposition is in the highest degree luminous, and his style corresponds in this regard to his thought, so that his treatment of the great doctrines declared by the Church appears like a statement of self-evident propositions, or a geometrical demonstration in which the problem is proved by simply describing the figure. We have never read anything which has given us more satisfaction than his statement of the four grand fundamental propositions on which the entire fabric of the Catholic doctrine rests. It appears to our mind that in his statement of the nature of the evidence by which reason apprehends the {570} being of God, and the credibility of revelation, and afterward the real meaning and contents of the revelation, he has marked out the outlines of a sound and correct philosophy of religion, which is so much needed, and without which the antagonists of revelation cannot be adequately refuted on rational principles. We desire to quote one sentence, short but pregnant, in illustration of our meaning. After stating that he always uses the word "rationalism" in an ill sense, he proceeds to say:

"By rationalism, I do not mean the use of the reason in testing the evidence of a revelation alleged to be divine.

"Again, by rationalism I do not mean the perception of the harmony of the divine revelation with the human reason. It is no part of reason to believe that which is contrary to reason, and it is not rationalism to reject it. As reason is a divine gift equally with revelation--the one in nature, the other in grace--discord between them is impossible, and harmony an intrinsic necessity. To recognize this harmony is a normal and vital operation of the reason under the guidance of faith; and the grace of faith elicits an eminent act of the reason, its highest and noblest exercise in the fullest expansion of its powers." (Introd., p. 4.)

The eliciting of this eminent act of the reason to the utmost possible extent is at present the great desideratum in theology. It involves the exhibition of the intrinsic harmony between faith and science; that is, of the conformity of revelation, not only as to its extrinsic motives of credibility, but also as to the intrinsic credibility of its doctrines to reason. It appears to us that Dr. Manning appreciates the first half of the desideratum more perfectly than the second; and that, in regard to the second, he appreciates more completely what is necessary to convince Anglicans and Orthodox Protestants than what is requisite for rationalists, with whom the chief contest has to be carried on. The main drift of his reasonings goes to establish, in an admirable manner, that Christianity is credible, and that Catholicism is identical with Christianity. Orthodox Protestants already believe the first, and whatever difficulties they may have on the subject are easily answered by a lucid statement of the grand external proofs of that which they have been educated to accept as a first principle. Of the second, they can be convinced by the exposition of the analogy and harmony of the special Catholic dogmas which they have not been taught with those they already believe. Difficulties raised on the side of human science against the intrinsic credibility of revelation, they can easily dismiss by reverting to their first principle of the well-established verity of divine revelation, as resting on extrinsic evidence. Establish in their minds the infallible authority of the Church, and they are content to receive a doctrinal exposition of all that she teaches which is made by way of deduction from revealed principles, without seeking for a reconciliation of this exposition with the deductions of purely rational principles. This is no doubt a very sound and Christian method, and it were to be wished that all would be willing to follow it. Experience has shown, however, that those who have been brought up in the more advanced and rationalistic Protestantism, are with difficulty induced to adopt it. They exact an answer to the difficulties and objections lying in their minds against the intrinsic reasonableness of revealed doctrines, before they will attend to their extrinsic evidence. The exposition of this intrinsic conformity between revealed and rational principles forms for them a part of the requisite moral demonstration of the credibility of the Christian revelation. Nor is it altogether without reason that they require this. They are obliged to learn a great deal which a High-Church Anglican has already received from his early education. They have the same incapacity of apprehending correctly the most fundamental Catholic verities which the Anglican has of apprehending certain specific dogmas. Both must have these misapprehensions removed in the same way, only it is a shorter and more restricted process for the one than for the other. The account given by our illustrious author of his own interior history shows that the extrinsic proof of the claims of the Roman Church to supremacy over all portions of the Christian fold did not convince him before they were illuminated by the discovery of the intrinsic relation between this supremacy and the essential spiritual unity of the Church in {571} Christ. His mind demanded an apprehension of the _rationale_ of strict, external, organized unity of administration under one ecclesiastical head. It was enough for him that this _rationale_ was made evident from revealed principles, because he already possessed these principles as a part of his intellectual life. Those who have lost in great measure the Christian tradition, or who have never had, must find the _rationale_ further back in their reason.

A Jew, for instance, apprehends the doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation as follows: "God is divided into three portions, one of which became inclosed in human flesh." A Unitarian will apprehend these doctrines, and others, such as original sin, atonement, etc., in some form almost equally repugnant to reason. Many Protestants apprehend the doctrine of the real presence to be that God is made a piece of bread, or that a piece of bread is made God. It is evident, according to the rule laid down by Dr. Manning in the passage above cited, that it is impossible for the human mind to assent to such irrational propositions on any extrinsic authority. Even supposing that a person admits the proofs of divine revelation and the authority of the Church to be irrefragable, he cannot submit to either while he believes that they require him to assent to such absurdities. Hence the necessity of exhibiting the Catholic dogmas in their analogy to the truths of reason, as a part of the evidence of their credibility. A large portion of nominal Christians are so completely imbued with rationalistic and sceptical notions, and so full of misconceptions of Catholic ideas, that they are persuaded of the validity of a thousand objections derived from reason, science, history, etc., against the Catholic religion. They cannot be reached by a line of argument which lays the principal stress on the extrinsic proof of the Christian revelation proposed by the Catholic Church, and rules out their objections and difficulties by the principle of the obedience due to legitimate authority. It seems to us, for this reason, requisite to make every effort to exhibit the interior conformity between faith and reason, theology and science, and to prove that faith is really "an eminent act of reason." All Catholics must agree in this general statement, for all the advocates of the Catholic religion have from the beginning of Christian literature aimed at this result. In regard to the method of doing it, however, there is some diversity of opinion. Dr. Newman, for instance, regards the progress of theological science as a movement from below upward, and from the circumference to the centre. That is, science is elaborated by the reflection of individual minds, especially the gifted and learned, on the dogmas of faith, under the supervision and subject to the judgment of authority. Dr. Manning, if we understand him correctly, regards the movement as one which proceeds in a reverse order; he represents the Church as proceeding in a more direct, positive, and magisterial manner; not by collecting the accumulated, elaborated, and clarified products of study, thought, reasoning, and meditation, and giving them her implied or express approbation, but by continually giving forth utterances of inspired wisdom received from a divine source. He apprehends that in adopting the other view, there is danger or subordinating the Ecclesia Docens to the Ecclesia Discens, and making reason a critic on divine revelation. Those who adopt the latter view have a tendency to elevate theological opinions and arguments which have gamed a wide acceptance to a species of authority binding on the mind and conscience, and limiting the freedom of investigation. They desire that all arguments on doctrine should follow the traditional track and merely emulate and elucidate what has been already taught by the great doctors of theology. They extend the sphere of authority and infallibility to the utmost possible limits, and many of them seek to extend the protecting aegis of the Church over philosophical systems. Those who adopt the other may often err in an opposite extreme. Yet, we think, they have a principle which is justified by sound reasons, and by the actual history of the formation of doctrine and theology in the Church. That principle is stated by Möhler in these words: "For a time _even a conception of a dogma_, or an opinion, may be tolerably general, without, however, becoming an integral portion of a dogma, or a dogma itself. There are here eternally changing individual forms of an universal principle which may serve . . . for mastering that universal principle by way of reflection {572} and speculation." (Symb. Introd., p. 11, London Edit.)

On this principle, they seek continually to scrutinize more deeply the inner essence of dogmatic truths, and to investigate its relation and conformity to the principles and deductions of philosophy and science. We think history shows that this is the way in which theology has actually advanced, and the Catholic Church herself attained more and more to that reflective consciousness of her own dogmas by which she is enabled to enunciate from time to time her solemn definitions. St. Thomas made an immense advance, beyond St. Augustine and the other fathers. The great Jesuit theologians, Bellarmine, Suarez, and Molina, struck out a new and bold path in theology. Take, for instance, the great doctrines of original sin, predestination, and efficacious grace. The conception of these dogmas, and the scientific explication of their contents, has been greatly modified in the process of time, and chiefly through the influence of a few original thinkers. These have generally met with a strong opposition from the established schools of theology, and the most strenuous efforts have been made to decry them as unorthodox and to procure their condemnation by authority. The names of Catharini, Sfondrati, and Molina will serve as a sufficient illustration. Yet, their method of stating Christian doctrine on important points has gained a great predominance in the Church, and the supreme authority has frequently intervened, not to enforce these opinions, but to protect those who hold and advocate them from censure. Not only theologians, but even teachers of natural science, have brought about great changes in current theological opinions. For instance, Galileo, and those who followed him, have, by the force of scientific demonstration, compelled theologians to modify their interpretation of Scripture where it speaks of natural phenomena. Geology has caused a similar general change of the method of interpreting the Scriptural accounts, of the creation and the deluge. The old Swiss proverb is verified in the perpetual effort to discover the harmony between faith and science: "God gives us plenty of nuts to crack, but does not crack them for us." One of these hard nuts, not yet cracked, is the question concerning the extent of the influence of inspiration in preserving the sacred writers from error in matters of purely human knowledge. The well-known opinion of Holden on this subject, it appears to us, is a little too summarily condemned by our learned author. The opinions of Bellarmine and Lessius were severely censured in their time, but nevertheless are now acknowledged to be tenable and probable. We think the opinion of Holden deserves at least a very thorough examination and discussion before it is put under the ban. Dr. Manning admits that "it is evident that Holy Scripture does not contain a revelation of what are called physical sciences," and that "no system of chronology is laid down in the sacred books" (p. 165, Eng. Ed.) Nevertheless the sacred writers speak of physical phenomena and of chronological dates. The Holy Spirit allowed them to speak of the former in accordance with their own and the common opinion even, when that was erroneous. He has allowed their statements respecting the latter to fall into such inextricable confusion, through accidental or intentional alterations either in the Hebrew or Greek text, that we cannot tell with certainty what they intended to record on the subject. Does not this show that revelation was not intended to teach chronology? And if it was not, how does it militate against the Catholic doctrine of inspiration to maintain that the sacred writers were originally left to follow the best human authority they could find in chronology as well as in science? If the end of revelation did not require that an infallible system of dates should be _preserved_ in the sacred text, why should it have been given at first? Why are minor historical facts, relating to the numbers who fell in particular battles, etc., within the cope of infallibility any more than matters of science and chronology? It appears to us, that until some authoritative decision is made, this question is open to discussion, and the opinion of Holden tenable without prejudice to orthodoxy. Very probably the distinguished author meant to express simply his judgment as to what is the sounder view of inspiration, without denying that the other is within the limits of orthodoxy. However this may be, this is the only instance in which there is any appearance of {573} severity toward those whose theological opinions on matters _extra fidem_ differ from his own. It were to be wished that some other writers, who are disposed to censure their brethren severely and throw suspicion upon their loyalty to the Church, on account of theological differences, would imitate the admirable model placed before them by the illustrious chief of the English hierarchy. We commend to their attention the following extract from the _London Weekly Register_, which is a portion of an excellent and well written review of' Dr. Pusey's _Eirenicon_. When severely pressed by an able antagonist, one frequently finds himself driven to defend the Catholic cause upon the common, certain ground where all Catholics stand together, and to sink domestic controversies. This is very well; but the same language ought to be used _toward_ opponents in these domestic controversies, when they are discussed _inter nos_, which is used _respecting_ them when we are fighting the exterior enemy. If one takes certain ground because it is available against non-Catholics, he ought to allow other Catholics to stand upon that ground at all times in peace without having his fidelity to the Church called in question. We give the quotations now, without further comment, and leave the intelligent reader to make his own reflections on them:

"The greater part of the remainder of the volume is taken up with proving what most Catholics would be ready to admit, that many exaggerated things have been said by Catholic writers of name concerning the Pope's personal infallibility, on the prerogatives of the Blessed Virgin, and on many other subjects. No doubt, viewed from without, there is much matter for perplexity in this whole subject. We know that many persons, now Catholics, have been kept back from seeing the Church's claims on their absolute allegiance, because of the hold these exaggerated statements had obtained on their imagination, and the repugnance they felt to the aspect of doctrine thus presented. This, we think, has arisen partly from their having attributed to such statements an authority which they did not possess, and from their not distinguishing between matters of faith and matters of pious opinion. . . . . Catholics, on the other hand, . . know that the Church, while requiring _unitas in necesaariis_, is most free in conceding _libertas in dubiis_; . . . does not aim at creating a dead and soulless level of uniformity, but tolerates great liberty of opinion in matters of opinion," etc.

"Even though we might ourselves hold that what are commonly called the Ultramontane opinions are the more logical, the legitimate deduction from Scripture, the true development of patristic teaching; and however much we might wish for a union of all Christians on this basis, we should nevertheless hold most strongly, until otherwise taught, that a reunion on the principles of Bossuet would be better than perpetuated schism."

Archbishop Manning's work will, of course, take its place in our standard Catholic literature, and we earnestly recommend it to all our readers.

THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER. Vol lxxix.

We observe by a notice appended to its last number, for November, 1865, that this long-established periodical has been transferred from Boston to New York, and will hereafter be conducted under the editorship of the Rev. Henry W. Bellows, D.D. This is a significant fact, but precisely what it signifies time only can reveal to the uninitiated. So far as we can conjecture its significance, the change of location and editorship bodes a change in its prevailing tone and spirit. It is, however, announced that the former editors will co-operate with the new one in the conduct of the Review, which leads us to suppose that the different schools of Unitarians will be allowed fair scope for expressing their views in its pages. Those who are acquainted with the writings of Dr. Bellows may fairly expect that if he devotes his time and energies to the task of contributing articles on the great topics which are just now occupying the attention of Unitarians, there will be a great improvement in the general spirit and tendency of the Review. It will become less extreme in its rationalism, and more positively Christian. Dr. Bellows has come the nearest to Catholic doctrine in some of the fundamental points of religion of any rationalist with whose writings we have happened to meet. We shall look with {574} interest for the result of the movement which has placed this powerful medium for influencing minds and shaping the course of events in the sphere to which he belongs under his control. Meanwhile, we have some criticisms to make on certain portions of the number which closes the Boston series of "The Examiner."

The first article contains a critique upon Mill's "Examination of the Philosophy of Hamilton." We are delighted to have that overrated and inconsistent disseminator of sceptical principles, Sir William Hamilton, demolished, no matter who does it. One of his pupils, Mr. Calderwood, has attacked him on the side of positive philosophy, showing his sceptical tendencies. Mr. Mill has countermined him by a more subtle scepticism than his own, and has shown the baselessness of the positive and dogmatic portion of his philosophy. Very good! The most dangerous of all errors is semi-scepticism. It defends all that it retains of philosophical and theological truth in such an illogical manner that it brings it into doubt and discredit with logical thinkers. It covers up its scepticism so adroitly that the unwary are deceived and poisoned by it unawares. Let the contradiction between its two elements be shown, let both be pushed to their legitimate consequences, and a great advantage is gained. Those who push through the sceptical principle, like Mr. Mill, bring it to such a patent absurdity, that every right-thinking mind will reject it at once. Those who take the other side, are forced upon a better and more solid basis for both science and faith. The reviewer of Mr. Mill seems to have given himself up completely to his sway, and to be unable to do more than echo his thoughts. He gives up transcendentalism, the grand philosophy of Boston and Cambridge which was to supersede old-fashioned Christianity and inaugurate a new epoch, as an exploded and obsolete system. This formidable iron-clad has blown up and gone under, like the famous _Merrimac_; and it appears that Dr. Brownson need not have levelled his artillery against her, but might have waited patiently for her own magazine to be set fire to by her crew. We are no longer even sure that two and two do not make five, or that two parallel lines cannot inclose a space! The writer anxiously endeavors to show that in spite of this Mr. Mill will still allow him to believe in a God, and in the difference between right and wrong. Let him, however, if he will persist in believing something, do it _with trembling_. For, if two and two might, for anything we know, make five, one might possibly become equal to nothing, and then some day we may all find ourselves annihilated. Mr. Mill's mine can be countermined as easily as Sir William Hamilton's; for, when once the perception of absolute and necessary truth is questioned, there is no stopping short of nihilism.

The article on Dr. Newman's "_Apologia_" is well written, and shows a candid and respectful appreciation of the intellectual and moral greatness of the illustrious convert. The author, however, makes a sweeping, wholesale charge of having adopted a system of equivocation, chicanery, and sophistry upon the Jesuits, and the whole Catholic Church, which has nothing to sustain it but an _on dit_. The charge is false. But apart from that, in saying it the writer struck a foul blow, unworthy of an honorable critic. Here is a great question, on which men's minds are divided, and on which there are most weighty and important testimonies to be examined. The writer does not profess to enter the lists for the discussion of it, but merely to criticise the particular statements of Dr. Newman. If he had anything to say about it, he should have taken up Dr. Newman's statements and arguments, and made some rejoinder. It is always a sign that a man is either weak or disingenuous, when he throws a wholesale assertion of the general badness of your cause in your face, because you have successfully defended it in respect to one particular item. It is also very _schoolboyish_ to repeat continually the stale generalities that one has read in his books or in the newspapers about the Jesuits. Cannot our antagonists "_invint some other little bit of truth?_" We are tired of hearing this one so often.

The writer fairly admits that if any other guide to truth is necessary, beside the individual reason, that guide must be the Catholic Church. There is no alternative except to follow your own light, or be a Roman Catholic. Every man, he thinks, has for himself a light, which is infallible for himself {575} alone, and only for the time being. We would like to ask him whether this is a certain, necessary, and universal truth, true for all times, and every individual? Is it so? Then by the same process which proves it to be so, you can establish a complete system of universal truths, and among them the universal or Catholic principles of the Catholic Church. We admit the infallible light of reason, excluding his limitations, which are _ipso facto_ destroyed if he answers our question in the affirmative. If in the negative, the assertion he has made is true only for himself, as a kind of provisional arrangement--a sort of dark lantern borrowed for the evening. It is quite probable that by-and-bye the sun may rise, and the dim rays of his lantern blend with its brighter beams. The infallible light within may tell him that he needs the revelation of God, and the instruction of the Catholic Church.

Decidedly the most valuable article in the number is the one on "English Schools and Colleges." It is evidently written by one who is perfectly familiar with the English system of education, and contains many valuable hints and suggestions for the improvement of our own colleges. We recommend all those who are engaged in the higher branches of instruction to procure and read it; and, indeed, the author would do them a great service by publishing it separately as a pamphlet, with such additions as he might think suitable to enhance its value.

OUR FAITH, THE VICTORY; OR, A COMPREHENSIVE VIEW OF THE PRINCIPAL DOCTRINES OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. By Rt. Rev. John McGill, D.D., Bishop of Richmond. Baltimore: Kelly & Piet. 1865.

This new edition of a work already noticed in our pages is well printed, and, if the paper were of somewhat finer quality and the binding a little better, would be a very handsome volume. The extravagant price of paper at present is a very fair excuse for the first defect, although we cannot help regretting that a work of such high merit and permanent value should not be brought out in a style completely worthy of it. If our copy is a fair specimen, however, there is no excuse for the binding, which, though handsome enough, is so loosely and carelessly executed as to endanger already some of the leaves falling out. We recommend our Catholic publishers to show a little more of the enterprise and thoroughness requisite in first-class houses. Mr. O'Shea has given them a good example in Dr. Brownson's "American Republic," which we trust will not be without a good effect. We again recommend this admirable work to our readers as one of the best in the English language on the great topics of which it treats.

THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC: Its Constitution, Tendencies, and Destiny. By O. A. Brownson, LL.D. 8vo. New York: P. O'Shea. pp. 435. 1866.

This is a work brought out in a very superior style of typography which does great credit to the enterprise of the young publisher, Mr. O'Shea, and is worthy of its great subject and its equally great author. We have only had time to read the preface, which breathes the exalted philosophical wisdom, the noble, magnanimous spirit, and the pure Christian faith of the illustrious Catholic publicist and American patriot who wrote it. A more extended notice of the work itself will appear in our next number.

HISTORY OF ENGLAND FROM THE FALL OF WOLSEY TO THE DEATH OP ELIZABETH. By James Anthony Froude, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. Vols. III. and IV., 8vo. New York: Charles Scribner & Company.

The fourth volume of Mr. Froude's work ends with the death of his hero, Henry VIII. The portion of the history embraced in the instalment now before us includes, therefore, many picturesque incidents, which the author narrates with his most charming and brilliant pen, and with that quick eye for dramatic effect which lends such a fascination to his style. In a notice of the first and second volumes we expressed with sufficient clearness our judgment of Mr. Froude's faults and merits, and we see no reason to modify our previous statements. He professes to have originally approached his subject without prejudice or any purpose of running counter {576} to the commonly received opinions of the world; but he does not deny that he has come to take a very different view of Henry and his times from that accepted by the rest of mankind. He has this advantage over his critics--that, as he makes use of state papers and other manuscript records which are not accessible to the world at large, it is not always possible to test the correctness of his quotations or the justness of his inferences from official documents. We can only say that in the few instances in which it has been in our power to follow him in his researches, we have learned to distrust not only his accuracy but his honesty. We must wait until some other and dispassionate historian shall have explored the same fields before we can detect all his misrepresentations and rectify all his errors.

HUMOROUS POEMS. By Oliver Wendell Holmes, with illustrations by Sol. Eytinge, Jr. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1865.

A cheap but neat edition, bound in pamphlet form, forming one of a series of "Companion Poets for the People, illustrated." Dr. Holmes is our Thomas Hood, in some respects more to our taste than his English compeer. His humorous poems, though steeped in the double distilled oil of wit, have no poison in them, and are wholesome and delicious, when taken laughing in small doses.

THE PRACTICAL DICTATION SPELLING-BOOK, in which the spelling, pronunciation, meaning, and application of almost all the irregular words in the English language are taught in a manner adapted to the comprehension of youth. For the use of schools. By Edward Mulvany. New York: P. O'Shea.

The plan of this book is excellent, and will, we have no doubt, be generally adopted in our schools. It has evidently been compiled with much care and attention. The scholar that masters its various sections will not be apt to make those ridiculous mistakes in spelling and writing which are so prevalent m the community. In the next edition the typographical errors ought to be attended to. The present one contains too many such errors.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

Messrs. Murphy & Co., Baltimore, announce for publication at an early day the following works: A new improved and enlarged edition of Archbishop Spalding's "Miscellanea;" a new edition of "The Evidences of Catholicity," by the same author; "The Apostleship of Prayer," a translation from the French of the Rev. H. Ramière, S.J.; "The Manual of the Apostleship of Prayer;" new editions of "Ellen Middleton," "Lady Bird and Grantly Manor," by Lady Fullerton; and of "Pauline Seward."

P. O'Shea, New York, announces: "The Life of St. Anthony of Padua;" "The Life and Miracles of St. Philomena;" "The Christian's Daily Guide," a new prayer-book; the second volume of "Darras' History of the Church."

P. Donahoe, Boston, announces the publication of a new illustrated magazine for the young folk. It is to be called "Spare Hours," and is to appear early in December. There is room for such a publication, and we hope it will prove a success, and that Mr. Donahoe will make it equal to anything of the kind published in this country. A good magazine for the young has been a want long felt. The subscription price is two dollars per year.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

From THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, New York: "Aurora Floyd," by M. E. Braddon. 12mo., pp 372. "The Ordeal for Wives." A novel, by the author of "The Morals of Mayfair." 12mo., pp. 448. "Rebel Brag and British Bluster: A record of unfulfilled prophecies, baffled schemes, disappointed hopes, etc., etc. By Owls-Glass." Paper, pp. 111.

We have also received a neat little pamphlet, of twenty-four pages, entitled: "Notes on Willson's Readers," by S. S. Haldeman.

From the Hon. Wm. H. Seward, Secretary of State, Washington: "Diplomatic Correspondence for 1864. Parts 3 and 4."

From CHARLES SCRIBNER, New York: "Plain Talks on Familiar Subjects," a series of popular lectures. By J. G. Holland. 12mo., pp. 835.

From P. O'SHEA, New York: Numbers 14, 15, and 16 of "Darras' History of the Church."

From D. & J. SADLIER & CO., New York: Parts 5, 6, and 7 of "D'Artaud's Lives of the Popes."

{577}

THE CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. II., NO. 11.--FEBRUARY, 1866.

Translated from Etudes Religieuses, Historiques et Littéraires, par des Pères de la Compagnie de Jésus.

CHARLES II. AND HIS SON, FATHER JAMES STUART.

Of all the Stuarts who reigned over Great Britain only one, if historians can be trusted, abandoned Anglicanism and became a child of the Catholic Church. It is true that to the name of James II. that of his elder brother, Charles II., has sometimes been added; but the general opinion is that Charles had no religion whatever, and scoffed at all creeds alike. Documents, however, which have lately been brought to light, enable us to prove that both the sons of Charles I. abandoned Protestantism, and that in their persons Catholicism occupied for more than an twenty years the throne of Henry VIII.

To understand how the religion of Charles II. could remain so long an historical enigma, we must recall to mind the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed. Surrounded by fanatical sectaries, who yielded him a kind of insubordinate obedience, and kept him in continual fear of the axe by which his unfortunate father had suffered, he felt constrained to observe in public the forms of worship which he had solemnly renounced before the altar. And to this we must add another reason. Far from reforming the disorders of a licentious youth, he prolonged his excesses to the very eve of death, and his unbridled passions tended to extinguish in his naturally weak and timid soul all the energy alike of the man and of the Christian. So, though a Catholic at heart, Charles never had the courage during his whole reign to avow his sentiments. Some thought him a zealous Presbyterian; others, a devoted Anglican. Those who knew him better declared he was nothing but a bad Protestant, and for that declaration they had more reason than they supposed.

There is no question that he died in the bosom of the Church; but that he had returned to it long before he died is a fact which has only lately {578} been established. After lying for two hundred years among the dusty archives of a religious order in Rome, a remarkable correspondence has been brought to light between the sixth successor of Henry VIII. and Father Paul Oliva, the general of the Jesuits. The occasion of this singular interchange of letters between Whitehall and Rome was the presence in the Jesuit house, in the last named city, of a young novice whom all the fathers, even the general himself, believed to be a French gentleman. Charles informed Father Oliva who this young man was. By the right of paternal authority he demanded that James Stuart, the eldest of his natural sons, should be sent back to him. He wished to keep him for some time about his person, and by his assistance to instruct himself more thoroughly in the Catholic faith, and so finish the work which he had long ago commenced. After reading these letters, and penetrating the hidden thoughts and mental tortures of the conscience-stricken king, who knows his duty, and fears, yet wishes, to fulfil it; a crowned slave, bearing beneath his royal robes a yoke of iron, and sighing in vain for liberty to believe and worship after the dictates of his heart, we cannot resist the conclusion that Charles II. was neither a deist nor a waverer; he was a Catholic--a timid and a bad one, if you will but firm in his convictions.

But, you may say, a conversion such as this is not much for the Church to brag of. Here you have a prince born a heretic, and becoming a Catholic so quietly that his people know nothing about it. The Church declares that faith without works is dead. Well, it is true that Charles's life was in perpetual discord with his faith. We certainly do not propose our neophyte as a model penitent; it is enough if the reasons which led to his conversion afford his countrymen another proof of the divine origin of Catholicism. It is surely a startling circumstance that this slave to voluptuousness should turn his back upon the easy-going Anglican Church, so complacent even to the monstrous passions of Henry VIII., and choose the most inflexible of all Christian communions, the one which preferred losing her hold upon the glorious and powerful Island of Saints to conniving at adultery; which defended the innocent Catharine of Aragon against her ferocious spouse, and might, one hundred and forty years later, have protected Catharine of Portugal also had a royal caprice again attempted to displace a virtuous queen in order to raise a vicious favorite to the throne of England. This monarch, timid by nature, and surrounded by sanguinary fanatics, knew that the bare accusation of "popery" would be enough to stir up his whole kingdom against him; yet he did not hesitate to become a "papist"--he upon whom the laws conferred the title, so much coveted by his predecessors, of supreme head of the Established Church. Do we not see in this a signal triumph of God over man, of truth over falsehood?

Should it be asked why this correspondence has remained so long unpublished, we answer that it was by its nature strictly confidential. So long, too, as the Stuarts maintained their pretensions to the English crown the publication of such letters would have seriously compromised them. Then came the suppression of the society, after which it would appear that all trace of the correspondence was lost, until it was recently brought to light by the learned Father Boero. [Footnote 87] The original letters form part of a collection of autograph manuscripts of Charles II., Father Paul Oliva, Christina of Sweden, James II., the queen-mother, Henrietta of France, Catharine of Braganza, and other celebrated persons of the time. The letters of Charles are impressed with the Royal seal.

[Footnote 87: _Istoria della conversione alla Chi?? Cattolica di Carlo II., Re d'Inghilterra, caveta da ???trure autentiche ed originali_.]

{579}

II.

It is easy enough to mention circumstances which would naturally have prepossessed Charles in favor of the Church. In the first place, he was indebted for his life, after the defeat of Worcester, almost entirely to Catholics, who at great risk to themselves concealed him from the soldiers of Cromwell and enabled him to escape to France. In Paris he must have seen many things to influence his religious sentiments. The most profound impression, however, was made upon him by the venerable M. Olier, the founder of St. Sulpice. "God opened to him," says his biographer, the Abbé Faillon, "the English monarch's heart. In the new conferences which he had with this prince, he showed him the beauty and truth of the Catholic religion with so much grace, force, and energy that Charles II. was constrained to acknowledge afterward to one of his friends that although many distinguished persons had spoken to him about these matters, there was none of them who had enlightened him so much as M. Olier; that in his words he recognized and felt an extraordinary virtue; in fine, that he had fully satisfied him. There can be little doubt that M. Olier had persuaded the king to abjure his errors and to take the first step toward a return into the bosom of the Church; that is to say, by sending a secret abjuration to the Pope, who, as has been said above, required nothing more. For, in the first place, it was rumored all through France and England that Charles had sent to the Pope a secret abjuration; and beside, M. de Bretonvilliers, after mentioning that his majesty recognized and felt an extraordinary virtue in his conversations with M. Olier on the truth of the Catholic religion, adds these significant words: 'At present, I can say no more.' This reticence naturally leads us to infer that Charles had taken some step toward becoming a Catholic which it was not then prudent to make known."

III.

Two years after his restoration to the throne, and under the influence, probably, of the queen-mother and the queen-consort, he resolved to open with the Holy See a negotiation which he hoped might lead to the restoration of the English people to religious unity. It was necessary to proceed with the greatest caution. He chose for his envoy Sir Richard Bellings--the same to whom he afterward intrusted the most secret and delicate of his missions to the court of Louis XIV. Sir Richard set out for Italy under pretext of attending to affairs of his own; and as soon as he could do so safely, he quietly went to Rome. His first business was to ask for a cardinal's hat for Louis Stuart, duke of Richmond and Lennox, better known under the name of the Abbé d'Aubigny. He was a near relative of the king's, and had been summoned from Paris to fulfil the functions of grand almoner to Queen Catharine. Charles wished to place under his charge the affairs of the Church in Great Britain. A memoir on this subject was drawn up for Bellings by Lord Chancellor Clarendon, and copied by Clarendon's son. It is dated October 25, 1662. Each leaf is authenticated by the royal signature. A minute of the instructions given by Charles to his ambassador is preserved at Rome. It can only have been drawn up by Sir Richard himself:

"1. His majesty solicits this promotion for the advantage of his kingdom, and in order to give the Catholic party an authorized chief, intimately united with the sovereign by the ties of blood, and upon whom he can depend securely under all circumstances. The king, to quote his own words, sees in the elevation of the Abbé d'Aubigny to the cardinalship an essential condition to the good understanding which ought to exist between {580} the Pope and his majesty; he deems this a measure of the last importance for the welfare of his Roman Catholic subjects throughout his dominions.'

"2. The cardinal once appointed, his majesty engages to support him in the style which his dignity and his relationship to the sovereign demand."

The Holy Father summoned a secret congregation of cardinals to consider the matter, and also appointed a council of theologians, who were instructed to draw up their opinion in a careful report. In this document we find a careful resume of the "Benefits which the Catholics of England have received from his Britannic majesty."' They approved of the proposed appointment; but unfortunately the Abbé d'Aubigny was given to the errors of the Port Royalists, and the Pope felt compelled to refuse Charles's request. He refused, however, with so much delicacy, and gave such good reasons for the refusal, that the king, instead of breaking off intercourse with the Holy See, as he had threatened to do, ordered Bellings to proceed to the second object of his mission. This was nothing less than the conversion of the king and the reconciliation of his realms to the Roman Church.

IV.

Sir Richard was instructed to treat directly with the Holy Father, and the number of counsellors whom the Pope might call to his assistance was to be strictly limited. On the side of the English there is every reason to believe that nobody was in the secret except the king, the two queens, the envoy, and the person--whoever he may have been--who drew up the document which we shall presently have occasion to quote. Clarendon certainly knew nothing about it; he was ready to assist in the promotion of d'Aubigny; but he was a stern enemy of the Catholics, and even before Sir Richard's return we find him opposing in parliament a proposal of his sovereign's for granting liberty of conscience to dissenters.

There is no doubt that Charles II. himself made known to the Holy Father his intention of becoming a Catholic and re-establishing Catholicism as an authorized form of worship in his kingdom. There is, moreover, no doubt that Pope Alexander VII. replied to him. This is all that we can now affirm with certainty; and we should not have known even this if the king had not mentioned it incidentally in one of his letters to Father Paul Oliva.

The absence of these two letters is much to be regretted; but we have fortunately at hand a document of still greater value. This is the profession of faith presented in the name of the English monarch as the basis of a concordat:

"Proposition on the part of Charles II., king of Great Britain, for the much-to-be-desired reunion of his three kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland with the apostolic and Roman see.

"His majesty, the king, and all who aspire to the unity of the Catholic Church, will accept the profession of faith drawn up by Pope Pius IV. after the decisions of the Council of Trent, and with it all the other decrees respecting faith or discipline enacted either by the aforesaid council or by any other general council, as well as the decisions of the last two pontiffs in the affair of Jansenius; reserving to himself, however, as is done in France and some other places, certain special rights and certain customs which usage has sanctioned in our own particular Church. These various decrees are to be understood with the restrictions which other oecumenical councils have, prudently no doubt and after mature consideration, imposed upon them, as the aforesaid profession of faith proves. Whence it follows that, except within these limits, nothing may henceforth be imposed upon or prescribed to either the king or any of his Catholic subjects; and {581} that it shall not be imputed to them as a crime or a favoring of heresy should they have occasion to declare their mind upon matters of this sort. Under these conditions his majesty is ready to break at once with all Protestant societies and all sects separated from the Roman Church, and to withdraw from their communion. He declares his detestation in particular of the schism and deplorable heresies originated by Luther, Zwingle, Calvin, Memnon, Socinus, Browin, and other equally perverse sectaries. Better than any one else, he knows by sad experience in his own kingdom what a deluge of calamities, what revolutions, what a Babel-confusion this pretended Reformation (which might better be called a _de_formation) has entailed in politics as well as in religion; so much so that these three kingdoms, and especially England, are, in both secular and sacred affairs, nothing but a theatre of frightful disturbances, which hold the entire world chained with attention and dismay."

This profession of faith is followed by twenty-four "notes" or "declarations," in which the king indicates more in detail the course which he proposes to follow in his difficult task of religious restoration. The reconciliation with Rome once effected, he would grant the Protestants complete toleration. The hierarchy should be re-established as it was in the time of Henry VIII., before the schism. Parishes should be established and seminaries founded. The king also described in what manner he would arrange for the introduction of the Roman liturgy, the preaching of the divine word, the teaching of the catechism, the administration of the sacraments, the celebration of provincial synods, and the admission of the religious orders of both sexes into Great Britain; he spoke of the festivals, beside Sunday, which it would be possible to make days of obligation, and of the precautions which ought to be adopted in bringing the people back to the veneration of the saints and their relics.

It may be suggested that Charles was not sincere; but it is difficult to understand what he could have hoped to gain by these representations, made in strictest confidence to the Pope, if he did not really intend to return to the bosom of the Church and hope to bring his people with him. Lingard says that he used to feign an inclination toward Catholicism, in view of the subsidies which he received from the king of France; but we must remember that at this time it was Louis who made all the overtures and evinced all the eagerness for an alliance between the two countries, and that Charles held back. Louis XIV. was ready to pay almost any price for his neighbor's friendship, and Charles was under no necessity of periling his crown and arousing all the fanaticism of his subjects in order to obtain what Louis was so ready to give him.

Just about the time of the departure of Sir Richard Bellings for Italy Charles made an attempt to obtain from parliament an act of indulgence in favor of the Presbyterians, Independents, and Roman Catholics. He met with the most violent resistance, even from his own ministers. Far from carrying this equitable measure, he soon found himself compelled, by the clamors of parliament, to issue a proclamation ordering all Catholic priests to leave the country under penalty of death. Disheartened by this ignominious defeat, he seems to have rushed more madly than ever into debaucheries, and stifled the voice of conscience until a providential incident, in 1668, aroused his better feelings.

V.

About the month of April, 1668, the king received a piece of news which awakened in his heart at once remorse and hope. A natural son whom he loved tenderly--a young man of great {582} intelligence and acquirements--had abjured Protestantism and consecrated himself to God's service in the Society of Jesus. This personage, who was destined to play a part in Charles's conversion as important as it was mysterious, is not unknown to our readers alone: no memoir of the time makes any mention of him. We must go back a little way to find out who he was.

The son of Lucy Walters, the intriguing and factious Duke of Monmouth, born in 1649, is generally regarded as the first fruit of Charles's illicit amours; but this is a mistake. It was not in the Netherlands, nor in Paris, but in the isle of Jersey, that the heir to the English crown began the career of licentiousness which ultimately proved so disastrous to his reign. This little island, rich and populous, had always remained faithful to the royal house; and it was probably with the hope of obtaining succor for the royal cause that Charles, while Prince of Wales, went there in 1647. But unfortunately he encountered, under the roof of one of the most illustrious, families of Great Britain, a temptation which extinguished all his warlike ardor. The young soldier reposed in the gardens of Armida, and gave not a thought to the terrible morrow which might follow his careless sleep. [Footnote 88]

[Footnote 88: In the multiplicity of more important events, English historians have lost site of this abortive Jersey expedition; but if they do not confirm, they at least do not contradict our statement. After the battle of Naseby, Prince Charles fled to the Scilly Isles and afterward to Jersey. The next three years he passed chiefly at the Hague. He does not reappear in history until 1648, when he made a fruitless demonstration with a royalist fleet at the mouth of the Thames. In the meanwhile he used to pay occasional visits to his mother at Paris, and what more likely than at her instigation he should have made a trip to Jersey in the hope of doing something for his father?]

The child born of this connection, who afterward was called James Stuart, was taken, in infancy, we know not by what name, to the continent. He was educated by the best masters in France and Holland, and as he grew up manifested great quickness of intellect, together with the most estimable qualities of the heart. Charles was proud of him and loved him; but when he came to the throne he durst not publicly recognize him. He was afraid of his parliament and afraid of the factions which encompassed him. Beside, the child's mother was still living, and no doubt had obtained from the monarch a promise not to compromise the honor of her noble family by acknowledging the son until there should no longer be any danger of her being suspected as the mother. So, when the young man, then about eighteen years of age, was summoned to London in 1665, he was commanded to present himself under the name of Jacques de la Cloche du Bourg de Jersey; and though he received from his father the most unequivocal marks of affection, he soon grew tired of his false position, and begged permission to return to the continent and resume his studies. Charles reluctantly consented. He gave his son at parting a document written in French with his own hand and impressed with the royal seal, which is still preserved at the Gesù in Rome. It runs thus:

"Charles, par la grâce de Dieu Roy d'Angleterre, de France, d'Ecosse et d'Hibernie, confessons et tenons pour nostre fils naturel le sieur Jacques Stuart qui, par nostre ordre et commandement a vescu en France et auttres pays jusques à mil six cent soixante cinq où nous avons daigné prendre soin de Luy. Depuis, la même année, s'étant treuvé à Londres de nostre volonté expresse et pour raison. Luy avons commandé de vivre sous auttre nom encore, sçavoir, de la Cloche du Bourg de Jarzais. [Footnote 89] Auquel, pour raisons importantes qui regardent la paix du Royaume que nous avons toujours recherchée, deffendons de parler qu' après nostre mort [_i.e._, of the secret of his birth]. En ce temps, Luy soit lors permis de présenter au parlement cette nostre {583} déclaration que, de plein gré et avec équité, nous Luy donnons à sa requeste, et en sa langue, pour lui oster occasion de la monstrer à qui que ce soit pour en avoir l'interpretation.--A Wthall, le 27 de septembre 1665. Escry et signé de nostre main, et cacheté du cachet ordinaire de nos lettres sans auttre façon. L. S. CHARLES."

[Footnote 89: Charles wrote indifferently Jarzais, Jersais, or Jersé]

(TRANSLATION.)

We Charles, by the grace of God king of England, France, Scotland, and Ireland, acknowledge and hold as our natural son Sir James Stuart, who by our order and commandment has lived up to the year 1665 in France and other countries, where we have seen fit to take care of him. Thence after, on the same year, he resided in London by our express will and for good reasons, we having commanded him to live under a new name, to wit, La Cloche du Bourg de Jarzais. Whom, however, for important reasons touching the peace of the realm, whereof we are ever regardful, we forbid to speak _concerning the secret of does birth_ until after our death. At that time be it then permitted him to present to parliament this our declaration, which of our own free will and in justice we grant him at his request and in his language, in order to remove all occasion of his exhibiting it to any one whatsoever for its better interpretation. At Whitehall, the 27th of September, 1665. Written and signed by our hand and sealed with the ordinary seal of our letters, without other fashion. L. S. CHARLES

With this acknowledgment of parentage, the young man returned to the Netherlands; but he soon reflected that in the event of his father's death the document was not likely to be of much service to him, for it mentioned no provision for his support. The English Parliament would be very apt, on one pretext or another, to refuse him any sum whatever. So he prevailed upon Charles to give him another paper, assigning to him £500 a year, "subject to the good pleasure of the next successor to the crown and of the Parliament." Coupled with this legacy were the conditions that James should live in London and remain faithful to the Anglican Church. This document, dated Feb. 7, 1667, is also preserved at the Gesù:

"Charles, by the grace of God king of England, France, Scotland, and Ireland. The Sieur James Stuart, whom we have heretofore recognized as our natural son, living under the name of La Cloche--having represented to us that, should he survive our death, he would be without means of support, if not recognized by parliament, beside other difficulties which might occur in this affair; for this reason, bending to his entreaties, we have seen good to assign him and to leave him from our domain, if such be the good pleasure of our successor to the crown and of our parliament, the sum of £500 sterling per annum. Which legacy it will not be lawful for him to enjoy, except in so far as he shall reside in London, living according to the religion of his fathers and the Anglican liturgy.

At Whitehall, the 7th Feb. 1667. Written and sealed by our proper hand. L. S. CHARLES"

When the king imposed the second condition he little imagined that his son was already on the point of abandoning the Established Church; but so it was; and on the 29th of the next July he was received into the Catholic communion at Hamburg. Very soon afterward he determined to enter the Society of Jesus; but there was one great obstacle in the way. He could not be received without telling the secret of his birth, for illegitimacy was an impediment from which it was necessary to obtain a dispensation. And if he told it, with no other {584} proof to show than the two papers just cited, which it would be impossible for an Italian Jesuit to verify, who would believe him? In this perplexity he had recourse to the ex-queen Christina of Sweden, who was then at Hamburg. There was a dash of romance in the story which pleased the eccentric princess; she was well acquainted personally with Charles II., and having obtained from him a confirmation of all that James Stuart had told her, she gave the young man a letter which secured a ready belief for the account that he gave of himself at Rome. This letter, written in Latin, is also among the documents lately discovered at the Gesù:

"James Stuart, who was born in the isle of Jersey, and of his own free will assumed the name of La Cloche du Bourg, is the natural son of Charles II., king of England, and so much has been secretly confirmed to us by his Britannic majesty. Renouncing the sect of Calvin, to which his birth and education had up to this time attached him, he joined the Holy Roman Church at Hamburg July 29, 1667. In faith of which, contrary to our custom, we have written by our own hand this declaration, to the end that James Stuart can, in an extraordinary circumstance, open his conscience entirely to his confessor and receive from him the necessary counsels for the salvation of his soul. L. S. CHRISTINA ALEXANDRA."

James Stuart was accordingly received into the Society in April, 1668, under the name of Jacques de la Cloche. The inventory of his personal effects, to which the novice, according to custom, affixed his signature on entering, gives us a curious idea of the wardrobe of a king's son. Here it is: "One hat; one ecclesiastical habit and mantle; one pair of breeches and a waistcoat of black cloth; one vest trimmed with yellow fur; a sword-belt of green leather; white silk stockings; two shirts and one undershirt; one pair of linen drawers," etc.

VI.

It was on the 11th day of April, 1668, that James Stuart commenced his religious life. On the 23d of April, 1668, the Marquis de Ravigny, the French ambassador at London, sent to the court of St. Germain an account of a conversation he had just had with Charles II. The King of England had said to him: "I am very desirous of effecting a strong union with France, but I must have help; for there are many people about me who are not of that way of thinking. As to myself, I have always been so disposed, as you know better than anybody..." Charles, after having repeated these words several times, had added more than once--"Leave it to me. I will speak with you about it before many days." M. de Ravigny, whose efforts toward the political unity of the two cabinets had, up to this time, been without result, received the overture with apparent coldness. Louis XIV. was equally incredulous, and M. de Lionne replied to the representative of France in England in these terms: "The king is of the opinion that your response was exceedingly judicious, when the King of Great Britain signified his desire of making a strong alliance with him, and hinted to you to make advances. His majesty has already made so many, and has been so poorly responded to, when requested to enter into the matter, that the prudence and dignity of his majesty forbid his committing himself further. . . ."

Charles waited to receive the propositions of the court of St. Germain; but the court of St. Germain was dumb. Driven to declare himself, therefore, he renewed the assurances he had already given, and the letter of the French ambassador, bearing date of May 21, 1668, describes the interview, and closes with these significant words: "It looks as though this will {585} come to something; for this reason I most humbly beg your majesty to send further instructions."

Thus, only a few days after the humble novice of the Quirinal had assumed the robes of his order, Charles and Louis were busily engaged in cementing that family pact which broke the Triple Alliance, and delayed, for many years, the formation of that formidable coalition under which France finally succumbed. Are we too bold in suspecting something more than a simple coincidence in the simultaneousness of these two events?

Hume, in his "History of the House of Stuart," attributes the action of the English monarch to his admiration for the gaiety, wit, and elegance of the French court. Let those who will, accept this frivolous explanation! The curious conjuncture of dates, together with a vast assemblage of other facts looking in the same direction, have convinced us that the true motive of this sudden change was the religions convictions of the king. The conscience of Charles had long been troubled. Even before assuming the crown, he had resolved to introduce larger religious liberty into the realm. Baffled in all his attempts, completely, disconcerted, he learns one day that his eldest son--a mind thoroughly serious and earnest--had separated himself utterly from the errors of Protestantism, and had deliberately devoted himself to a life of prayer, of silence, and of mortification. Then Charles took heart, and convinced that he could not attain his object without the help of France, he resolutely set aside all the obstacles of national sentiment, and entered at once upon the completion of the compact. While this was pending, the British sovereign was employed, for the three months which followed the entrance of his son upon the novitiate of the Jesuits, in strengthening himself against the insurrections and the civil war to which his conversion was certain to give rise. It is not, however, by political precautions alone that heresy is made to yield to the true faith. There must also be the discreet theologian, the wise master, the spiritual guide--assistance difficult to avail one's self of when Anglican intolerance watches menacingly at the gates of all the royal palaces! Such a guide, such an instrument of the divine pity, the prince felt that he possessed to-day in the novice of St. André. Resuming the dress of a gentleman, James Stuart, known by nobody at court, might readily obtain access to the king without exciting suspicion. To him Charles would joyfully become a disciple, joyfully become a penitent; from him he could receive the necessary religious instruction and absolution for his sins. In concert with the two queens, he therefore decided to write to the father-general of the Jesuits and request the immediate return of the novice to England. The prince wrote to Rome five autograph letters, all in French; four to P. Oliva, one to his son. The different envelopes have perfectly preserved the stamp of the royal seal. It is for the reader now to determine whether the author of these pages--so truthful, so ingenuous--was, as has been a thousand times asserted, only an accomplished cheat. It is for the reader to declare whether the brother of James II. merits those odious epithets of deist and atheist with which Protestantism has so freely bespattered him, doubtless in recompense for the scorn and aversion which Charles always felt in his deepest heart for the Establishment of Henry VIII.

Scarcely five months had elapsed since James Stuart began to practise the rules of St. Ignatius, when a stranger placed in the hands of Paul Oliva, father-general of the order, the following letter:

TO THE REVEREND FATHER-GENERAL OF THE JESUIT FATHERS:

REVEREND FATHER,--We write this to your reverence as to a person whom we believe to be most prudent and judicious, inasmuch as the {586} principal charge which you have of an institute so famous will not permit us to think otherwise. We address you in French, a language common to all persons of quality, wherewith we believe that your reverence is not unacquainted, preferring this language to bad Latin, in which we could with difficulty write so as to be understood; it being our principal aim in this that no Englishman may intrude himself as a translator--a thing which would otherwise be exceedingly prejudicial to us, for the reason that we wish this letter to be a secret between you and us.

And to commence, your reverence ought to know that for a long time, amid the embarrassments of the crown, we had prayed God to grant us the opportunity of finding at least one person in our realm in whom we could confide touching the affair of our salvation without giving our court grounds for suspecting that we are Catholic. And although there have been here a multitude of priests, both in the service of the queen (a portion of whom have dwelt in our palace of St. James and at Somerset House) and also scattered throughout our whole city of London; nevertheless we could not avail ourselves of any because of the suspicion we should give to our court by conversation with such people, who, whatever disguises of clothing they may assume, are always known for what they are. Yet despite so many difficulties, it seems as if the providence of God had provided for and seconded our desires, by causing to be born to us in the Catholic religion a son to whom alone we could confide ourselves in an affair so delicate. And although many persons, perhaps better versed than himself in the mysteries of the Catholic religion, might be found for our service in this exigency; nevertheless we could not make use of others as well as of him, who would be always capable of administering to us in secret the sacraments of the confession and of the communion which we desire to receive as soon as possible.

This our son is a young gentleman whom we know you have received with you at Rome under the name of the Sieur La Cloche de Jersay, for whom we have always had a peculiar tenderness, as much because he was born to us when we were scarcely sixteen or seventeen years old, of a young lady of the highest rank in our realm (rather from the frailty of our early youth than from a bad heart), as also because of the excellent nature we have ever remarked in him and of that eminence in learning wherein he has advanced through our means. For this makes us all the more esteem his conversion to the Catholic religion, since we know that he has been led to it through judgment, reason, and knowledge. Many important reasons touching the peace of our realm have prevented us, up to the present time, from publicly recognizing him as our son; but this will be for a brief time only, because we presently design to make a kind of public recognition of him ere many years, having, however, provided him, in 1665, with the necessary assurances, in case we should come to die, so that he may make use of them in due time and place. And as he is not known here in anywise, saving by the queens--this affair having been managed with great secresy--we could in all safety converse with him, and exercise in secret the mysteries of the Catholic religion, without exciting in any one of our court the suspicion that we are Catholic, which we could not do with any other missionary; in addition to the confidence that we should have in opening to him our conscience in all freedom and sincerity as to a part of ourselves. Thus we see that, although he was born in our tender youth against the ordinances of God, the same God has seen fit to preserve him for our salvation, since it pertains to himself alone to know how to bring good out of evil.

We believe that the need we have {587} of him has been sufficiently explained to your reverence, and if your reverence write us, you will intrust your letters to our son alone, when he comes to us. For although we do not doubt but that you would find secret ways enough to do it, nevertheless you would disoblige us excessively by intrusting your letters to anybody but to this our son, for many considerable reasons whereof your reverence can conjecture apart, but especially from the mischief which it would bring upon us, as we were subjected to great hazard on account of our receiving a letter which we had from Rome in reply to one we had written to the deceased Pope; and although it was presented to us with all necessary circumspection and by a Catholic person, nevertheless it could not be managed with sufficient prudence to prevent the suspicion of our most keen-sighted courtiers. But having found means to stifle the suspicion which was abroad respecting our being Catholic, we were obliged, through fear of renewing it in men's minds, to consent on several occasions to many things that turned to the disadvantage of numerous Catholics in our kingdom of Ireland. This is the reason why--although we had written with all possible secresy to His Holiness respecting our conversion to the Catholic Church at the same time that we besought His Holiness to make our very dear cousin, my Lord d'Aubigny, a cardinal, whereof we were refused for good reasons--we have not been able to pursue our point.

And although the Queen of Sweden is very wise and discreet, nevertheless it is enough that she is a woman to lead us to fear that she cannot keep a secret, and, as she believes that she alone knows the origin of our well-beloved son, we have written her again and have confirmed her in that opinion. This is done in order that your reverence shall manifest to her, upon occasion, that you have no knowledge of his birth, if she should inquire of you. As also, we pray your reverence not to make known to her or to anybody else, be it whom it may, the design we have of becoming Catholic, or that we send for our son for this object. If the Queen of Sweden asks where he is gone, your reverence will find some pretext, either that he is gone on a mission to our island of Jersey or to some other part of our realm, or still another pretext, until we make our desires and wishes in this matter again known to you.

We pray you, then, to send to us as soon as possible our very dear and well-beloved son--that is to say, at the first time that this season or the next permit. We believe that your reverence is too zealous for the salvation of souls, and has too much respect for crowned heads, not to accord to us a request so just. We had had some thought of writing to His Holiness and disclosing to him what we have in soul, and by the same means to pray him to send our son to us. But we have believed that it would be sufficient for us this time to make a declaration to your reverence, reserving for another occasion--which we shall bring to pass as soon as possible--the writing and declaring ourselves to the Pope by a very secret courier sent post by us.

If our dear and well-beloved son, is not a priest, and if he cannot become one without making publicly known his true name and origin, or from other circumstances (which we say because we do not know your mode of acting in these matters), in that case let him rather not be made a priest at Rome than that he communicate aught of what he is to the bishops or priests; but let him pass through Paris and present himself to our very dear cousin the King of France, or, if he prefer, to our very honored sister the Duchess d'Orleans, to whom he can make manifest on our part our good desire in all safety. They know well enough what is the wish of our soul, and will readily recognize our very dear and well-beloved son by the tokens which we gave to him in London in 1665, and, perceiving that he is Catholic, they would endeavor {588} and would be able to make him a priest without any one's knowing what he is, and with all possible secresy as we believe. If, however, without so many crooks and turns, he prefer to come to us without being a priest--which is, perhaps, the better course--then we would do the same thing by means of the queen our very honored mother, or of the queen-consort, who would have at their service bishops, missionaries, or others to perform the ceremony without any one's perceiving or knowing anything about it. We say this in the event of his encountering difficulties in effecting this at Rome.

And although we wish our very dear son to come to us, it is, nevertheless, not our design to draw him away from your society. On the contrary, we should rejoice if he remain in it all his life if God inspire him to that vocation, and, after having put our conscience in order by his means, we shall not prevent him from returning to Rome, to live according to the society to which he has attached himself; and even during the time that he shall be at our service we shall not prevent him, if he so will, from pursuing, with those of your body that are in our realm, the life commenced in conformity with the religious vocation which he has embraced, provided that it be not in London, but in some city or village not far off from our city of London, to the end that when we need him he can come with the greatest promptitude and facility. And the reason why we do not wish him to reside in London among your people is because of the danger of his being suspected as a Jesuit, from his being seen to enter those places which are the residences of your people, already too well known by many--a thing that would turn to our prejudice. Now we are well content, after being absolved by him of heresy, and after we are reconciled to God and to the Church, that he return to Rome to lead the religious life which he has begun, awaiting further orders from us--a scheme which seems to us quite to the point, and we believe that your reverence will be of our opinion and counsel in this last particular. Thus doing, when he shall have been here some weeks or months, we will send him back to Rome under the government of your reverence, to the end that, under your care, he may the better fit himself for our service. And during the short time that he shall be at London, when he speak to any one of yours let him guard himself well in discoursing upon the object of his coming. He can say that it is for some affair of importance in our court, of which only your reverence and himself should have cognizance.

In the meanwhile, though we cannot openly manifest to your illustrious society the affection and the good-will we have toward it, this does not prevent your reverence from making known to us, by our very dear and well-beloved son, if there be any way in which we can aid it, which we should do all the more willingly because we know that everything which we can contribute will be employed in the service of God for the remission of our offenses. For the rest, we recommend to your prayers our realm and ourselves.

CHARLES, King of England. At Whitehall, the 3d of August, 1668.

Enclosed in the communication addressed to the father-general was a second letter of the king's, which reads as follows:

TO OUR VERY HONORED SON THE PRINCE STUART, RESIDENT WITH THE JESUIT FATHERS UNDER THE NAME OF SIEUR DE LA CLOCHE, AT ROME:

MONSIEUR,--We have written very fully to your reverend father-general; he will tell you our pleasure. The Queen of Sweden has asked of us, as a loan, the sum of money that we had taken care to provide for your maintenance, which was sufficient for {589} many years. We have ordered what was necessary in the matter; and this is a reason why you need not put yourself to the trouble either of writing to her about it, or of speaking more thereof.

If the autumn season be too disagreeable to get out on your journey to us, and if you cannot venture upon it without putting yourself in imminent danger of falling ill, wait till the commencement of next spring, having especial care for the preservation of your health, and keeping yourself in all quiet, writing us nothing, for we are not a little suspected of being Catholic.

The queens are very eager to see you, as we have communicated to them privately the news of your conversion to the Roman religion. They have counselled us to tell you that we do not forbid your living in the institute to which you have attached yourself, and we should be rejoiced if you remain in it all your life; but desire you to measure well your powers and your constitution, which has appeared to us very feeble and delicate. One can be a good Catholic without being a religious, and you ought to consider that we design, before many years, to publicly recognize you as our son. But as neither parliament nor the state of affairs has permitted it up to the present moment, we have always been constrained to defer it. You ought, moreover, to consider that you can aspire to the same titles from us as the Duke of Monmouth, and perhaps to more ample ones. Beside, we are without children by the queen and those of the Duke of York are very feeble; while, for every reason and because of the rank of your mother, you can lay claim on ourselves and on parliament to be preferred to the Duke of Monmouth. In that case, being young, as you are, if liberty of conscience and if the Catholic religion be restored to this realm, you would have some hope of the crown. For we can assure you that if God permit that we and our very honored brother the Duke of York die without children, the crown will belong to yourself and parliament cannot legitimately oppose it, unless that the fact of your being a Catholic exclude you; as liberty of conscience is not yet established, and since, at present, only Protestant kings are eligible. This, then, we are advised by the queens to tell you. If, in the meantime, all things considered, you prefer to serve God in the Society of Jesus, we do not wish to offer any resistance to the will of God, whom we have already grieved too much by our offences. We do not, therefore, forbid your pursuing that vocation, if God inspire you to it; but we desire only that you think well of it.

We do not wish to write to the Pope until we have spoken to you by our own mouth. We had written to the late Pope, to the end that he should make our very dear and well-beloved cousin, my Lord d'Aubigny, a cardinal; whereof we have not had the satisfaction that we demanded. However, we are not offended in this. His Holiness having made known to us manifold reasons why he could not conscientiously create a cardinal in our realm, the affairs of religion and other things being as they are.

Not long since we wrote to the Queen of Sweden, and advised her not to write to you, and to treat you henceforth as simply a gentleman, without manifesting that she has any knowledge of your birth. This is a reason why you should not take it amiss if her majesty treat you after that manner. It is a no light burden to us to see you always constrained to live unknown, but have patience yet a little, for before many years we shall try to so conduct affairs and parliament that all the world will know who you are. You will no longer live in these hindrances and restraints, and it will depend only on yourself to live in the liberty and the pleasure of a person of your birth, unless that God strongly inspire you and that you should wish to continue absolutely the {590} religious life which you have commenced.

Although we cannot, and ought not, to openly show the good-will that we have for the Society of Jesus, who have received you, yet in the meanwhile if we cannot publicly favor them with our royal munificence, there may still be some place, room, or occasion wherein they might need our aid, and where we could contribute somewhat. We would do it all the more because we know that all will be employed for the service of God and the remission of our offences, and because, also, we could desire that no one of your lineage should remain with them without founding something as a memorial suitable to one of your extraction. We will talk about this matter in London, if you persist in your design of living with them.

In the meanwhile, believe that we have always had you in our peculiar affection, not only because you were born to us in our tenderest youth, when we were scarcely sixteen or seventeen, but particularly because of the excellent nature that we have always remarked in you, because of that eminence of knowledge in which you have been advanced through our means, because you have always borne yourself as a virtuous man, and because you have been especially obedient to our commands: the which, joined to the paternal love that we have felt toward you, strongly governs our desires in wishing all kinds of benefits for you, beside the pity that moves us in seeing you so unknown and disregarded--a thing which shall continue as brief a space as possible.

It is not easy for us to send privately to Rome a sum of money adequate for a person of your birth and sufficient to put you in the condition and estate of appearing before us, being, as we are, neither willing nor able to noise it abroad that we have any one at Rome with whom we have communication. It is not possible that you are not everywise modest enough to come to us, if not in the condition of one of your rank, at least as a simple gentleman when you put foot in England. Finally, pray God for ourselves, the queen, and our realm. I am your affectionate father, CHARLES King of Eng., Fr., Scot, and Ire. At Whitehall, 4th of Aug., 1668.

Charles II., in the letters we have just given, left his son at liberty to set out at the end of autumn or even at the winter season. Twenty-five days have not elapsed when his resolution changes. He wishes the novice at Rome to make haste to precipitate his departure. What was the cause of this serious disquietude? It was this: Queen Christina, repenting of her abdication and hating the north, resolved to seek an asylum for her remaining days in the shadow of the Vatican. Charles was informed of her intention, and at once took alarm. Christina would then witness the departure of James Stuart; entangling the inexperienced novice in a network of cunning questions, what secret could escape her? Everything would be discovered. Little by little the rumor would spread from Italy to England. Charles already saw his kingdom in revolution and himself reduced to the most grievous extremity. Such was the object of the second letter to the father-general:

TO THE REVEREND FATHER-GENERAL OF THE JESUIT FATHERS AT ROME:

REVEREND FATHER,--We send, with the greatest diligence and with the greatest secresy, an express to Rome charge with two letters, one to your reverence to the end that our well-beloved son set out as soon as possible; the other to the Queen of Sweden--having commanded the messenger to await the arrival of her majesty in any Italian town through which she may pass, not wishing even that the aforesaid express should appear at your house, through fear of {591} being recognized by some of your order who are English. As he is a person of rank, we have in like manner forbidden his delaying more than one day at Rome, fearing lest he should be recognized by certain Englishmen who are at Rome.

We say, then, to your reverence that, since the first letter that we wrote you, we have received trustworthy news that the Queen of Sweden returns to Rome, contrary to the anticipations which we had formed--the which has not a little embarrassed us in the matter of our salvation. This is the reason that, upon this new accident, having taken counsel with the queens, we have determined to write in haste to the Queen of Sweden, feigning to her and persuading her that our very dear and well-beloved son has represented to us that he wishes assigned to him something fixed for life, to the end that in case he should not pursue the religious calling he has commenced, being now a Catholic, he may have something to fall back upon; and that even if he should pursue it, he prays us to settle a sum of money upon him which he may dispose of according to his devotion, which petition we have granted him; but since this cannot be effected at Rome, we have ordered him to go to Paris to find certain correspondents of ours, and after that to proceed to Jersey or to Hanton, [Footnote 90] where he will receive from us forty or fifty thousand crowns in total, which may be deposited in some bank; and that we have instructed him not to tell his superior of his birth; but that he shall simply feign to your reverence that he is the son of a rich preacher, who, being deceased some time since, his mother, moved with a desire of becoming a Catholic and to give him the goods which belong to him, has written to him, and that your reverence, desirous of the salvation of this person, and of making her a Catholic, and perceiving also that he can come by his estate, has readily permitted him to go. This we have arranged in order that she shall thus believe that she alone has the secret, and will therefore not break the matter to your reverence from the friendship she bears him. Thus we counteract any suspicion she might have of your letting him come to us and of our being Catholic. But above all it is necessary that our very dear son do not wait, but that he set out as soon as possible; for, as she needs money (and so needs it that she demanded at the last Swedish diet 35,000 crowns in advance), she would embarrass him in such a way that the drama which we wish to play would come off but illy. This we have arranged touching the Queen of Sweden.

[Footnote 90: Now Southhampton.--Ed. C. W.]

Your reverence will not be astonished then if this fear has led us to dread the evils by which we are besieged; a fear all the more lively in us, because these evils are greater and bear in their train consequences more dangerous. Now it is a truth received without dispute among our wisest statesmen, that of all the temporal evils which can befal us, the proof that we are Catholic is the greatest, since it would infallibly cause our death, and at the same time many convulsions in our realm. Your reverence ought not, therefore, to be astonished if we take so many precautions and if we have judged proper to write him this second letter also, as well in the matter of the Queen of Sweden as to supply omissions which we made in the first, and at the same time to retract some things contained therein--that our very dear and honored son do not present himself to our very dear cousin the King of France, nor to our very honored sister the Duchess of Orleans, as we advised before; but only that he come to us, be it through France or through Paris or by other ways, as it shall please your reverence to determine. He will abstain during the journey from writing to the Queen of Sweden, lest she see that those things are not carried out which, as we have heretofore said, have been pretended to her. This we have decided upon with the aid of the queens, fearing a discovery or some accident.

{592}

Moreover, we pray your reverence (who are secretly acquainted, as are her most christian majesty the queen, and our very dear sister, Madame the Duchess of Orleans, with the warm disposition for becoming a Catholic which we have for a long time shown),--we pray you, nevertheless, to abstain from writing to them in any fashion touching these matters, but to keep everything quite secret until the providence of God has otherwise disposed of affairs.

Now as we desire, with all requisite prudence in an affair of so great consequence to ourselves and the peace of our realm, that our very dear and well-beloved son find everything which is necessary in the business of our salvation made easy for him, and to avoid the inconveniences which might spring upon this side, we have taken counsel with the queen to this effect, that when he shall arrive alone in London--for such is our good will and pleasure--he take time to clothe himself, and dress himself as quickly as possible, if he be not sufficiently well-dressed--not having been willing to do so for fear of soiling his garments by the bad weather and muddy roads, which soil a carriage and also all who are in it; and having put himself in order and rendered himself presentable, let him take occasion to address himself to the reigning queen, either when she is dining at our palace of St. James or when her majesty shall go to visit the queen, our very dear and honored mother. To whom, without causing any suspicion, he will present a sealed letter in the form of a supplication, in which he will say in a few words who he is. Her majesty has directions from us to manage everything which is necessary for an introduction to ourselves, with all possible prudence, and we are assured that there shall arise no disorder nor suspicion. He has nothing else to do but to let himself be directed according to what shall be advised him, and we command him to observe punctually everything we have written to him, especially what we have put within the envelope.

In the meanwhile, we renew to your reverence the prayer which we made to you from the first, which is, not to write us, nor to make any response saving by the hands of our very dear and well-beloved son, whom we order to set out from Rome as soon as possible, not wishing that the Queen of Sweden speak to him for the aforesaid reasons. Having departed from Rome, he will take his ease in coming to us. We pray, however, your reverence, if this be necessary, to move him to come as soon as possible, representing to him the need we have of him. For we know that he has no little repugnance to England, which we attribute to the fact of his not having been educated there, and also of his finding himself compelled to live there alone, so that we have never been able to induce him to live there more than a year. And even before that year was finished, he presented us so many reasons that we were constrained to let him go to Holland, where he bore himself with great praise and to our great satisfaction in the belles lettres and other studies, in which he made admirable progress.

We believe he has too much judgment to wish to disobey us, and not come as we desire. As soon as he comes we shall endeavor, by means of the queens, to have him made a priest in all secresy. And if there be anything that the bishop ordinary cannot do without permission of His Holiness, let him not fail to provide for it, but very secretly, so that no one shall know who he is: which will be done if possible before he set out from Rome. Meanwhile we beseech you, reverend father, to pray God for the queens, our realm, and ourselves, who are CHARLES, King of England. At Whitehall, the 29th Aug., 1668.

Yet even these numerous and urgent recommendations did not quite pacify the timid monarch. One feature in the rule of St. Ignatius, of {593} which his queen's had just advised him, suddenly upset all his ideas. He snatches up the pen. He countermands the orders he has just given. He traces a new plan of campaign in which the clearness of exposition, the ability of conception, the facility of execution, are about on a level. This third letter, we must confess, does little credit to the geographical knowledge and above all to the courage of Charles II. In another point of view, however, it merits the attention of the reader. Precisely because of the trouble which reigns in his thoughts, we detect more than once the cry of the soul. More than at any time hitherto, the unhappy prince lets us discover the cruel anguishes which torture his conscience, and the incontestable sincerity of his desires.

TO THE REVEREND FATHER-GENERAL OF THE JESUIT FATHERS AT ROME:

REVEREND FATHER,--We have never felt so many embarrassments, though we have had enough of them in our life, as at present, when we wish to think seriously of our salvation. We have but just sealed this other letter, which we pray you to read before the one which is open, that you may better learn our intention and the order in which we hold to the writing. The queens have advised us and counselled us not to press his [our son's] coming, because they wish to arrange and bring about certain very necessary and notable precautions, to render the arrival of our very dear and well-beloved son to England very prudent and secret.

For this end their majesties, having found means of learning accurately and with judgment the ways of your society regarding those who have but recently joined them, inform us that they have ascertained from a good source that the novices of your holy society, not less than with others, are never sent off without some member of the fraternity accompanying them, as much to be advised of their actions and deportment as to render an account to the superior--the which we admire as a very holy prudence and which can only spring from the divine spirit with which so holy a society is animated. But nevertheless in this matter we beseech your reverence to dispense with this companionship in the case of our very dear son; because we command him absolutely, in virtue of the power which God has given us over him, to come to us by himself, partly because this will properly accord with the letter which we have sent to the Queen of Sweden, who should believe that he has gone alone--that is to say, unaccompanied by any member of the fraternity; but principally because of the dangerous inconveniences whereof we should be constantly in fear if he came in the company of any of the fraternity. We have already, with great secresy, pretended to some very safe persons in a great number of the English ports, and by ways entirely concealed, that a foreign prince, of such a carriage, such a mien, alone by himself, is flying to us, and much more indeed which we could not explain to your reverence without going too far into detail. We do this, partly that if we come to be anywise suspected of being too familiar with him (Father James Stuart) we may have something to say to remove the suspicion.

Your reverence can see by this that if he should bring an Italian with him who was recognizable as an Italian, be it by his accent or otherwise, this might be the occasion of overthrowing all our designs and of interrupting the scheme which we wish to work out in order to come most surely to our just desires. Even in case he can have some one other than an Italian with him, we should forbid his bringing any one into England, of whatever nation he might be, for many very considerable reasons, which it would take too long to recount.

Your reverence ought not to be surprised if we are so cautious, because we learned in the time of Cromwell {594} what misery is, and what are the things of this world, what it is to be prudent and to hide one's self in order to succeed in our undertaking. We doubt not that, as our very dear and well-beloved son is young, he is far from eager for company and conversation, and that he does not desire to have intercourse with any one by letter or by discourse; for we know that he does not love the court any too well. But he must needs have patience, inasmuch as it is not reasonable that for a pleasure so brief and of so little consequence, he should put himself in danger of ruining all our designs. Beside, he ought to know that when he shall put foot in our palace, he is not to converse with any one saving with ourselves and the queen, who will give the necessary orders in the matter. Nor will he write any letters saving to you, reverend father, and these letters that he shall write to you we shall despatch by an express in great secresy to Rome, to the end that your reverence relieve us in the necessities which may arise touching our soul.

We have made inquiries respecting the seaports nearest to Rome. Among many which have been named to us, we recall Civita Vecchia and Gênes. We command him, then, to go to Gênes. We have ascertained, with all necessary prudence, that your society has at that place a house of your order. Being then at Gênes, we wish him to seek out some ship or English shallop, but in such wise that we do not wish any of the fraternity to recommend him to the master nor to those who manage the ship, not showing their acquaintanceship with him, for very considerable reasons; but especially because these seafaring men will repeat it all as soon as they come to port. Moreover, we desire that he put off and lay aside his religious robes in the house of his friends and brother Jesuits of Gênes. He will assume them again in the same place on his return to Rome, when we send him back to pursue there the religious life he has commenced.

He will land then in our realm solitary and in disguise. He will call himself everywhere he may go Henry de Rohan, which is the name of the family of a certain French prince, a Calvinist, and very well known and intimate with us. We are in such fear lest some accident occur, that in these different ports we at present take cognisance, both very secretly and with the requisite prudence, of ships which have arrived or are due, and even so far as we can of persons, under pretence of a zeal for the well-being of our realm, and under pretence of maintaining the Protestant religion, to which we pretend to be attached more than ever, although, before God, who knows the heart, we abhor it as very false and pernicious.

Moreover, we forbid our very dear and honored son to pass through France and by the other passages and ports which lie in that part, for he could not bring about our intentions with sufficient secresy sailing from that coast, and therefore we have found no place more proper than Gênes for his embarkation. And, in the meanwhile, awaiting his return to Rome, your reverence shall noise it abroad that he has gone to Jersey or Hanton to see his pretended mother, who desires to become a Catholic, as we have suggested and feigned in that other letter, and that, to make the greater haste, he went by sea.

This then we command him to observe, point by point, through the authority that God has given us over him, and we promise him, on the faith of a king, that we seek nothing else in his coming but the salvation of our souls, his good, and that of the society to which he has attached himself, which, sooner or later, we shall find means to notably favor with our royal magnificence. And so far from forbidding his pursuing his calling, both for the Catholic religion and your society, we and the queens will urge it upon him better than any _director_ he {595} can have. It is very true that when the season and affairs permit us to write and make known to His Holiness the veneration we hold him in as the vicegerent of God, we hope that he will be too well disposed toward us to refuse him the cardinal's hat, inasmuch as the conditions which could forbid his having this dignity for the honor of our person and of our realm are not fulfilled in his case, viz., residence in England, since we can send him to dwell at Rome, as we promise, and with the royal magnificence requisite for his birth. Nevertheless, if in time he prefer to live according to the religious life he has commenced, we would readily abandon what would be to the honor of our crown and of our person, rather than to urge and procure such dignities against his will.

We have made discreet inquiries of our physician whether sea-sickness cause any dangerous accidents to those of a feeble constitution, who has answered us that sea-sickness never killed any one, but on the contrary has been the means of greater health. Nevertheless, if it be too painful for him to make one trip of it, he shall contrive that the bark or shallop in which he sails rest from time to time in some port. He might easily come at once to London; but we do not wish it for good reasons. Let him land at some other port of England, from whence he can come by land in a carriage to London.

We once again entreat your reverence not to write to us nor to make any reply, saving by the hand of our very dear and honored son, when he comes to us. And, if there be a need for anything which he does not possess in making the voyage to London, we beseech you, reverend father, to have particular care in the matter, furnishing him with whatever he requires, whereof he will keep account.

We firmly believe it is God who has inspired us to all these above-mentioned ways for bringing us in secret our very honored son, because of what he has said in his word--that when two or three are gathered together in his name, he will be in the midst of them. For it is exactly ourselves, and the queen, our very dear mother, and the reigning queen, who decree all these things, not without having invoked, first of all, the Holy Spirit. Beside that, the queens have commanded their priests to celebrate many masses in accordance with their intention, which is nothing other than that this affair succeed as well as all our other projects above mentioned, which tend not only to our good, but to that of the Roman Catholic Church and of our realm. We are, CHARLES, King of England.

These last two letters were a sad revelation to Father Oliva, and no doubt very much diminished the hopes which he had before conceived. However, the order was given to the novice to set out without delay.

If James Stuart could easily obey his father by departing from Rome before the arrival of Queen Christina, it was certainly more difficult for him to conform to the frequently contradictory injunctions concerning the route to be taken and the precautions to be guarded against which had been successively transmitted to him. Everything which was rational and practicable the young man respected. He set sail from Leghorn about the middle of October, a fact which we learn from a brief letter of Father Oliva to the King of England. It is of course unnecessary to explain to the reader why the father-general has dated his note from a Tuscan port rather than from the city of the Roman pontiffs at which he wrote:

SIRE,--The French gentleman who is charged with the delivery of this letter will inform you of my utter carefulness in fulfilling the commands of your three letters and my unlimited devotion to your royal person. Your majesty will always see me execute with the same promptness and the {596} same zeal everything which he shall deign to impose on me. I shall endeavor to be such in reality as he deigns to believe that I am; such as the confidence with which he honors me obliges me to show myself.

I throw myself respectfully at the feet of your majesty. Leghorn, Oct 14, 1668.

In one very important respect it was found necessary to abandon, or rather to violate, the royal programme. Charles, a perfect stranger to ecclesiastical laws, always supposed that, at his request, his son could be made priest either at Rome or in London. But James Stuart was only twenty-one years old, and was without theological studies. Even if these serious objections had not existed, it would not have been prudent to elevate to the sacred office a novice whose religious experience extended scarcely over a space of six months. Thus, despite the repugnance of the king, Henry de Rohan, as our young traveller must now be called, took as his companion a priest of the society, a Frenchman, as far as we can judge, who, disguised like himself, was presented to their Britannic majesties in the quality of a friend of the refugee prince. This wise measure, imposed by the timidity of Charles, was attended by so little inconvenience, that we shall find the monarch himself, on the occasion of his son's second voyage to England, earnestly requesting of the father-general the return of this same _religious_ whose talents and virtues he had come to appreciate.

VII.

This is not the place to describe the warmth with which Charles opened his arms to his first-born, whom he had always peculiarly cherished, nor the joy of the two pious princesses, nor the tender emotions of the youth upon whom beamed, at length, the sympathy and affection he had never known before. In the isolation of his earlier life, James Stuart had sadly felt the void which the absence of that sweetest tie on earth, the family, creates. This grief had eaten into him like a cancer, till the day when he resolved to renounce the world. When the victim has immolated himself, when he has said to flesh and blood, I will know you nevermore! behold in a royal palace, by one of the first thrones on earth, the humble novice finds again a home--venerable queens are mothers to him. His father caresses him, and, emulating the example of his brother, the Duke of York, who was also preparing to embrace Catholicism, receives the child of St. Ignatius as an angel from heaven.

But it was not for such pleasures that the young Jesuit had quitted his solitude. Guided by the wise counsels of Father Oliva, and assisted by his own studies and the able co-operation of his companion, he engaged without delay in the religious instruction of the king. Of these conferences, surrounded with so much mystery, two fragments have come down to us. One word upon the nature and upon the history of this double document.

It consists of two divisions, and is a resumé of a great theological discussion which, at once, establishes the divine authority of the Roman, and saps the foundation of the Anglican, Church. The original piece is in the French language and in the handwriting of the king. He was not, however, the author. The primitive text has disappeared, probably through fear that a paper of this nature, if it should get abroad, would furnish material proof that a sovereign of Great Britain had held communication with a "papist" priest. These pages of religious controversy Charles carefully concealed. While he lived probably no one, save the Duke of York, had any knowledge of them. After the death of Charles, James II. found these writings again, one in the private chest, the other in the cabinet of the dead monarch, and in spite of the {597} storm which they were certain to produce, he did not fear to make them public. In 1700 he presented them solemnly, as a proof of the faith which animated his brother, to the general assembly of the clergy of France convened at St. Germain-en-Laye. Of the many thousand copies which, during the reign of the last of the crowned Stuarts, were circulated on both sides of the Channel, there exists at the present day only one. The Jesuit College at Rome still possess the edition of 1685, and in addition a manuscript copy of the two papers, both bearing, as a guarantee of their perfect authenticity, the autograph signature of King James. All the English historians speak of these two celebrated writings; but only to declare that the real convictions of Charles had nothing in common with these fragments of a controversy transcribed by him they know not why.

James II. in his "Memoirs" gives us a short anecdote, which from its connection with this subject we will reproduce. One day, finding himself alone in his cabinet with the Archbishop of Canterbury, he availed himself of the opportunity to place in his hands the two papers.

"He, the archbishop, appeared surprised, and remained for a quarter of an hour without making any reply. Then he said that he had not supposed the deceased king was so learned in the matter of controversy, but he nevertheless thought the arguments could be refuted. Upon which the king begged him to make the trial, telling him that if he accomplished it by means of reasons both solid and honestly expressed, he would probably succeed in converting him to his church. The archbishop replied that it would, perhaps, be evincing a want of respect for the deceased king, should he seek to contradict him; but his majesty relied by urging on him that the hope of converting himself ought to override every other consideration. He besought him then to occupy himself at once with a refutation of these papers, and to employ his pen if he thought proper. Whatever the reason may have been, neither this authorization nor the pressing instance of my Lord Dartmouth could engage him to write, and there appeared no reply during the four years that his majesty reigned in England." [Footnote 91]

[Footnote 91: "_Vie de Jacques II., roi d'Angleterre, d'apres les Memoirs écrite de sa Main. T. iii., p. 12. Paris, 1819_."]

Here then are these dogmatic pages, almost as unknown in our century as in the time when Charles concealed them in the most secret places in his palace. We publish them exactly as they saw the light.

FIRST WRITING.

The conversation that we had the other day will have satisfied you, as I hope, upon the principal point, which was that Jesus Christ can have, here upon the earth, but one church only, and I believe that it is as clear as it is that the Scripture is printed, that this church does not exist unless it be what is called the Roman Catholic Church.

I believe that there is no need of your troubling yourself with entering upon a sea of particular disputes, since the principal, and in truth the only and simple question, consists in ascertaining where this church is which, in the two creeds, we profess to believe in. We declare, in the two creeds, that we believe in only one catholic and apostolic church, and it does not belong to each individual member to believe everything that comes into his head according to his fancy; but it belongs to the church to whom on earth Jesus Christ has left the power of governing us in matters of faith, and has made these creeds to serve us as a rule.

It would be a most unreasonable thing to make laws for a country, and then to permit the inhabitants to be the interpreters and the judges. For then, {598} each individual would be a judge in his own cause, and consequently, there would be no standard whereby to distinguish justice from injustice. Can we then suppose that God has abandoned us to such uncertainties as to give us a rule for our conduct, and then to permit each individual to be his own judge? I demand of every honest man if this be not the same thing as following our own imaginations, or of making use thereof in the interpretation of Scripture?

I could wish that some one would show me in what passage the power of deciding upon matters of faith is given to each individual. Jesus Christ has left this power to his Church, even for the remission of sins, and he has left his spirit there. This power has been exercised since his resurrection, first by the apostles in their creed, and many years after by the Council of Nice, where the creed was made that bears its name.

By the power which has been received of Jesus Christ, the Holy Scripture itself was judged many years, after the apostles, in determining which were the canonical books and which were not. If we had the power then, I would like to know how it has come to be lost, and by what authority men can separate themselves from this Church. The only pretence I have ever heard advanced is because the Church has fallen into error, interpreting the Scripture after a forced manner and contrary to its true sense, and that it has imposed on us articles of faith which are not authorized by the word of God. I would like to know who is to be the judge of all this, whether it is the whole Church whose succession has continued up to to-day without any interruption, or is it to be the individuals who have excited schisms for their own interest?

This is the true copy of a paper which I have found in the private chest of the deceased king, my brother, written by his own hand.

JAMES R.

SECOND WRITING.

It is a most sad thing to see the infinite number of heresies which have spread themselves over this nation. Each one believes himself as competent a judge of the Scripture as the apostles themselves. And no wonder, for that part of the nation which has most resemblance to a church does not dare employ the true arguments against the other sects, through fear lest they should be turned against themselves, and they should thus find themselves confounded by their own proper arguments. Those of the Anglican Church, as it is called, are willing enough to be regarded as judges in matters spiritual. They dare not, however, positively assert that their judgment is without appeal. For it would be necessary for them to assert that they are infallible, which they dare not pretend, or to avow that while they decide upon in matters of conscience ought not to be followed further than as it accords with the judgment which each one may make in his own mind.

If Jesus Christ has left a church here on earth, and if we were all at one time in this church, how, and by what authority, are we separated from it? If the power of interpreting Scripture resides in the brain of each individual, what need have you of a church or of churchmen? Why did Jesus Christ--having given to his apostles power to bind and to unbind on earth and in heaven--_add that he would be with them till the end of the world?_ These words were not spoken figuratively nor in the manner of a parable. Jesus Christ was ascending into glory, and he left his power to his church, until the end of the world.

For one hundred years we have known the sad effects of this doctrine, which takes away from the church the power of judging without appeal in matters spiritual. What country could remain at peace if there were not a supreme judge from whom there {599} could be no appeal? Can any justice be done where the culprits are their own judges and interpreters of the law, equally with those who are set on high to render justice?

It is to this condition that we are reduced in England in spiritual affairs. For the protestants are not of the Anglican Church because it is the true church from which there can be no appeal; but because the discipline of this church is conformable to their present imaginations. And as soon as it shall run counter or swerve from it, they will embrace almost the first congregation of those whose discipline and religion accord at that time with their opinions. Thus, accepting this doctrine, there is no other church nor any other interpretation of Scripture than that which each extravagant individual shall hit upon in his brain. I would then like exceedingly to know of all those who have seriously reflected on these things, if the great work of our salvation ought to rest on such a sandy foundation as this? Has Jesus Christ ever said to secular magistrates, still less to the people--_that he will be with them till the end of the world?_--or has he given them power of pardoning sins? St. Paul has said in Corinthians--_We are God's husbandry, we are God's building, we are laborers in the house of God together with God._ This shows us who they are who labor--which is the field, which the edifice. In the whole of this and in one of the preceding chapters, St. Paul takes great pains to establish the doctrine that they (that is to say, the clergy) _have the spirit of God, without which no one can penetrate the profound mysteries of God;_ and he concludes the chapter with this verse, _"For who hath known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ."_ If then we consider merely in the light of probability and human reason the power that Jesus Christ left to his church in the gospel, and which St. Paul explains afterward so distinctly, we cannot believe that our Saviour has said all these things for nothing.

I entreat you to consider, on the other hand, that those who resist the truth, and who do not wish to submit to his church, draw their arguments from so-called contradictions and far-fetched interpretations, while at the same time they deny verities expressed in clear and positive words, a thing so contrary to good faith that it is difficult to think that they believe what they say.

Is there any other foundation of the Protestant Church if it be not this, that should the civil magistrate judge it fit, he can summon together such persons of the clergy, according as he believes it to be for his interest, for the time being; and can change the form of the church to Presbyterianism or to Independency, and finally make it just what he pleases? Such has been the method which they have pursued here in our so-called English Reformation, and by the same rule and by the same authority it can be still further diversified and changed into as many forms and figures as there are different imaginations in the heads of men.

This is a true copy of a paper written by the hand of the late king, my brother, which I found in his cabinet. JAMES R.

But why, it may be asked, do we arbitrarily date from the epoch of Father James Stuart's, appearance in London these papers, otherwise without date, and which were not publicly known till seventeen years later, in 1685? Let us set forth, as briefly as possible, the arguments by which we support our position.

In the first place, we agree with the English historians that these two fragments of controversy are not from the pen of Charles II. A comparison of the rugged and often inaccurate French of his majesty with that of the present text, settles this question at once. To whom, then, must we look for the authorship? {600} They proceed from an ecclesiastic, from a theologian consulted by the King of England. The very for which they assume argues the teaching of a master. But are not these two papers the offspring of two authors, of two teachers? By no means. There is a perfect resemblance between them, a perfect consanguinity of thought and of argument. There is the same turn of mind, the same style, often the same expressions. Still further. The tenor of the two pieces, which present in an abridged and condensed form many points of doctrine, presupposes in our opinion a whole series of lessons given to the royal disciple. Observe that, at the beginning of the first resumé, we have the phrase "the principal point;" there were then secondary points. The peaceful and at the same time simple, almost familiar tone of the master on entering upon the subject, is exactly the tone of a man who is conversing neither for the first nor for the last time. "The conversation" of which he speaks had not been, you would say, the only conversation. Everything, in fact, shows that these two fragments made part of a very considerable series of religious conferences.

But could these conferences, which, as we have seen, Charles might have held in all secresy at the end of the year 1668 and at the commencement of the year 1669, have taken place at any other period of his reign? By no means. For the first eight years, the king himself is our witness, since we have only to study the terms in which he complains to Father Oliva of his lamentable state of spiritual destitution. After the departure of the two Jesuits and the conversion of the Duke of York, the Anglican hatred and bitterness did not cease to rage about the throne of the Catholic Stuarts. During this second period, the only name which stands in our way is that of Father Claude de la Colombière, who sojourned in England a little more than two years, from 1676 to 1679. Now in this unhappy time, so great was the terror which ruled Charles II. that, despite his sincere esteem for the preacher of the Duchess of York, he dared not accord him, by the very confession of Father de la Colombière, more than two or three audiences, and not one of them secret. Whence it follows that these two famous documents are very probably, we had almost said certainly, the work of Father James Stuart and of his learned companion. Beside, does not such an origin explain the almost religious care with which these arid pages of theology were guarded for nearly twenty years by a prince to whom history points as the perfect type of carelessness? They called back to him the day when, in the presence of his mother, who was no more, and who now prayed for him in heaven, under the direction of a saint whose father he was, he had made his most powerful effort to abjure odious errors; they remained in his hand as a consolation for the past, a light in the future, a pledge of pardon and of hope in the hour when, cited before him who judges kings, he should at last render a severe account for the scandals of his life and the deficiencies of his faith.

Had the difficulties which these two devout ecclesiastics were forced to encounter been merely spiritual, had it been a question of logic, history, and truth, their mission would have been a fruitful one. But in actual life events are seldom simple, and history becomes a problem of complex forces. The heart of Charles II. led him toward his God. The pleasures of court life, and a natural unwillingness to sacrifice his throne, made him hesitate, falter, invent subtleties. It happened, at this time, that a wide-spread opinion prevailed in England, which had not been without its influence on the king. A Catholic, it was claimed, could procure a dispensation from Rome, could disguise his faith without scruple, and conform himself externally, at least, to the rites of the Anglican Church. Nor was the British monarch destitute of a plausible {601} precedent. When sojourning at Paris, in the days of the Protectorate, he had promised the venerable Father Oiler to renounce Protestantism, and Alexander VII., at the urgent instance of the crownless prince, had authorized him to conceal his abjuration until his affairs took a more favorable turn. This concession was made in no absolute sense. It stopped at the limits which the divine law has fixed for kings as well as for the humblest of Christians. Unquestionably, a convert whose abrupt publication of a change of faith would subject him to grave perils ought to use prudence. But in no respect would this permission extend so far as that the disciple should be "ashamed of" his Master. In this latter case dissimulation would be a crime.

Yet, in the delicate situation in which Charles was placed, what was he to do? The French alliance remained at this moment a state secret, and was thus far without result. Much was anticipated from the war which Louis XIV. was about to wage with Holland. Amid the triumph of the confederate arms, and the glory which would redound to his own person, the English monarch hoped to discover some means of strengthening the royal power and of breaking at last the Anglican tyranny. Not one of these things, however, had reached the vantage point of a _fait accompli_; not a domestic difficulty which did not subsist in all its force. In his extremity, the unfortunate prince naturally returned to his dreams of an accommodation with the Pope, of a compromise with the law of God: and one might say that circumstances invited it. Had he not now, in the general of the Jesuits, a powerful advocate with the sovereign pontiff? His son, a novice of the fraternity of Jesus, his son, called from the bosom of Italy and so tenderly received--would he not serve in the Vatican as a guarantee for the integrity of the father? Recourse to the Holy See, so far as to ascertain the precautions which would be permitted to the King of Great Britain in order to avoid exposing himself, his family, all the Catholics of England, to the extremest dangers--such was, we think the final determination of Charles II. This conjecture, authorized by the well-known sentiments of the prince and the whole sequence of facts, is specially based on a letter which Father James Stuart will shortly bear to Rome, and which appears to us scarcely susceptible of any other interpretation. Beside, one very authentic feature in the conversion of the Duke of York, to which we shall presently allude, falls in so perfectly with our theory, that it will be exceedingly difficult, in our opinion, to find any other satisfactory explanation for the ambiguous denouement which the end of this recital affords.

There are no historical indications to guide us in ascertaining the attitude assumed by the two pious queens when the monarch arrived at this resolution. Probably the princesses partook of the illusion of the Duke of York and of most of the Catholics of the court: they placed an exaggerated hope on the powerful intervention of the King of France. Relying upon this, and on the probable complaisance of the Pope, they supported in his unhappy course the son, the husband, whose safety lay so closely to their heart.

It would do our two missionaries a cruel injustice to suppose that they saw no deeper or clearer. In so elementary a question of theology, these vigorous controversialists, whose learning and keen reasonings we have appreciated, could have had but one opinion--that of their confrère Father Symons, of whom we shall shortly speak. James Stuart, we may fearlessly affirm, fulfilled respectfully but firmly the duty of his ministry. He strove to convince his father that no pontifical letter would authorize either king or emperor to reconcile in his person what the Son of God by his divine lips had declared eternally irreconcilable, to be ashamed of him before men, and yet to find favor in his sight. Two things are certain. On {602} the one hand, the holy novice failed to convince the king; on the other, filial love, happily combined with apostolic prudence, preserved his zeal from all bitterness.

Charles persisted in seeking, through the intervention of Father Oliva, to draw from Clement IX. impossible concessions. Despite the recent fatigues of his late voyage, the young enthusiast offered to be himself the bearer of his father's despatches. The proposition was accepted, and Charles wrote these lines, upon which we have already commented, and which are unfortunately the only source from which the historian can draw a correct judgment upon the results of the secret mission completed in 1668 in the palace of the kings of England by Father J. Stuart.

TO THE REVEREND FATHER-GENERAL OF THE JESUIT FATHERS AT ROME (intrusted to the hand of Mons. de la Cloche, Jesuit at Rome):

REVEREND FATHER,--You are too necessary for us in the position where your merit has raised you, not to be frequently troubled by us, in that condition where the misfortune of our birth obliges us to be.

Our very dear and honored son will tell you, on our part, all our proceedings, and as we were perplexed in deciding upon some one who should be our messenger once again to your reverence touching our affairs, he represented to us the urgent desire he had of returning himself to Rome on a secret embassy from us to you, reverend father--which desire we have granted him, under the condition that he come back to London as soon as he shall have had an interview with your reverence, and obtained those things which we entreat of you, and which our aforesaid very dear and honored son will explain from us personally, bringing us, on his return through France, the reverend father whom he left there.

At the request of our very dear and honored son afore-mentioned, who has represented to us that the place where he has been received into your fellowship is burdened heavily with debts, and that there is need of some buildings and other things, we have arranged that your house, in which he has been received, shall obtain from us, as soon as possible, a notable sum for the expiation of our offences. Waiting, if it please you, till your reverence can advise us of the measures which you will take for its reception, which shall be within a year. If you write to us, it will be by our very dear and honored son, who will tell your reverence all our intentions not intrusted to this paper. We are Charles, King of England. At Whitehall, London, the 18th Nov., 1668.

If it happen that our very dear and honored son be in need of anything, whatever it may be, we beseech you, reverend father, to attend to it, and we will keep an account of all.

The sense of the fourth and last letter of Charles II. to Father Oliva does not appear to us doubtful. If the royal disciple of Father Stuart had shown himself unconditionally and generously disposed to every sacrifice, what could have been this business with the Holy See which he committed to the father-general? Had no difficulty existed, the abjuration ought to have taken place without delay. For the rest, the Duke of York helps us. His illusions, his doubts, avowed by himself in his memoirs, and which very probably he shared with his brother, confirm, point by point, our conjectures upon the nature of the obstacles opposed to the self-sacrifice of the two apostles of Whitehall.

In the closing months of the year 1668, the king renewed his intercourse with his brother, toward whom he had been momentarily estranged by the intrigues of Buckingham. The author of the Life of James II. recalls this fact, and immediately after he adds:

{603}

"It was about this time (toward the commencement of the year 1669) that his royal highness, convinced hitherto that the English was the only true church, experienced lively compunctions of conscience and began to reflect seriously upon his salvation. He therefore sent for a Jesuit named Symons, who was reputed a very wise man, to the end that he might converse with him upon this subject. When the Jesuit made his appearance, the duke set forth his intention of becoming a Catholic, and spoke with reference to his reconciliation with the Church. After a long conversation, the father told him frankly that he could not be received into the Catholic Church unless he entirely abandoned the Anglican communion. The duke replied that, according to the belief he had always held, this could be done by means of a papal dispensation. He alleged the singularity of his position, and the advantage which would inhere to the Catholic religion in general, and especially to the Catholics of England, if by a dispensation he could be permitted to follow externally the rites of the Anglican Church, until an occasion offered for declaring himself with greater safety both for his own person and for the Catholics. But the good father insisted, saying that even the Pope himself had no right to grant such a dispensation, seeing that it was the unalterable doctrine of the Catholic Church never to do evil that good might come. The duke having written upon this subject to the Pope, received from the Holy Father confirmation of what the good Jesuit had told him. Up to this time his royal highness had always thought, following the opinion or at least the expressed words of the Anglican theologians, that dispensations of this kind were readily accorded by the Pope; but the remarks of Fr. Symons and the letter of His Holiness caused the duke to conclude that it was high time to make every effort to obtain liberty to declare himself, that he might no longer live in the embarrassing and perilous situation in which he then was." [Footnote 92]

[Footnote 92: "The Life of James the Second, etc., vol. i., p. 440-441. London, 1816. Quarto." (After several attempts to find this work, the translator has been compelled to rely on the French version.--ED. C.W.)]

What relation does this historical passage bear to the sojourn of Father Stuart in London? Notice, in the first place, that the date, "at the commencement of the year 1669," cannot be taken literally. We shall find mention, a few lines further on, of a secret council held Jan. 25, in reference to "a declaration of their Catholicism;" the Duke of York being already converted, and the king almost decided to take, like his brother, the last step. Now let us suppose that, on the 1st of Jan., the duke, hitherto a staunch Anglican, "experienced lively compunctions of conscience." With his characteristic caution, he studies into the matter, and finally comes at the truth. Then occurs his interview with Fr. Symons; next he writes to the Pope. The Pope sends his decision. The prince is startled, makes an irrevocable resolution, and thus on the twenty-fifth day of the same month we find him deliberating with Charles II. and three of his ministers upon the political measures necessary to empower them both to practise freely the religion of their choice! A promptness certainly very strange and inexplicable even in this day of express trains and telegraph wires! Evidently the supposition is impossible, and the expressions of the writer must be interpreted very broadly. Glancing back, it will be observed that these events followed closely upon the reconciliation of the two brothers, which occurred, as the English historians inform us, toward the end of 1668, during the autumn when Henrietta of France, the queen-mother, came to England in order to bid her children a final adieu.

If now we confront the whole series of Father Stuart's proceedings in London with the circumstances attending the Duke of York's conversion, these {604} two categories of facts, separate in appearance, unite and coalesce so naturally that it will be almost impossible not to recognize their intimate correlation, or, so to speak, their perfect identity.

Setting out from Leghorn Oct 14, the son of Charles II. after a voyage of twenty-fire or twenty-six days, arrives in the Thames about Nov. 1, O.S. Henrietta of Bourbon, not less jealous for the salvation of her second son than for that of the king, hastens to put the Duke of York in communication with Father James Stuart and the eminent ecclesiastic who accompanied him. Our two apostles divide their days between Charles and his brother. It is in their school that the prince received those strong lessons which in the short space of twenty days overturned and created anew the entire structure of his belief. It was from them that he heard with surprise that the pretended papal permissions were only a ridiculous fable, and that the profession of the Catholic faith obliged him to sacrifice everything, to suffer everything, for the eternal life. Situated as James then was, this declaration was of startling import. It affected his hopes of the crown, his family, his entire future. At this juncture he consults with Fr. Symons; and, still dissatisfied, he resolves to appeal to the Pope. Our argument now takes form; it speaks to the eye. Suppose that the courier of the Duke of York spent twenty-six days each way in his journey to Rome, and remained only eight in that city; to have returned to London six or seven days before the council of Jan. 25, he would have had to quit England the 19th or 20th of Nov. And these are the very dates for the departure of the novice of St. Andrew, upon the close of the conferences, and for his return to the capital of Great Britain after his journey to Italy!

Consider the subject in another light. According to every English historian, the facts relative to the conversion of the Duke of York have their extreme limits in Nov. 1, 1668, and Jan. 25, 1669. They cannot be fixed earlier, nor later. But these are the precise points at which the apostolic mission of Father Stuart at the court of Whitehall commences and ends. Examine this in detail, measure the time necessary to instruct and convert a heretic, to carry a message to Rome, to confer with the Pope, to return to London--there is not a feature which does not present a coincidence almost mathematical.

The novice of St. Andrew left behind him in France the priest whose co-operation had been so useful, and on his return to Rome he made known to the father-general the results of his apostolic labors at the court of the Stuarts. What impression did the royal letter produce upon Father Oliva? It would not be surprising if he thought that he discovered, what many readers will perhaps have felt, in these brief lines, a reserve, a constraint, in perfect contrast with the joy of a soul that has found, after long and sad errors, the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Charles II. also wrote on a matter completely apart from the religious question. In a former postscript, the king had engaged to recompense the Roman fraternity for all the extraordinary expenses to which they had been subjected on account of his son. Unfortunately, when the year expired, the funds of the civil list were found empty. It was one of those financial crises not unusual under a prince who never knew the worth of money until it was gone. Charles was therefore forced to subscribe to an obligation payable in six months for the sum of £800 sterling. This note will close the series of inedited pieces that Father J. Stuart has left for two centuries in the hands of Father Paul Oliva:

"We Charles, by the grace of God King of England, France, Scotland, and Ireland, acknowledge ourselves debtors to the reverend father-general {605} of the Jesuit Fathers to the amount of £800 sterling, viz., 800 pistoles for the maintenance and journeyings of our very dear and honored son the Prince James Stuart, a Jesuit living under the name of La Cloche, the which 800 pistoles the said reverend father-general, Jean Paul Oliva, has furnished him with, and which sum we acknowledge ourselves indebted for, and promise to pay him at his pleasure after six months have passed from the day and date, of the said obligation.

In witness whereof, we have given both our sign-manual and our ordinary seal.

CHARLES, King of England, L.S. France, Scotland, and Ireland.

Clement IX. was now, for the first time, informed of the secret movement which was drawing into the bosom of the Church the posterity of Mary Stuart. The pontiff received a letter from the Duke of York, and it does not appear improbable that the young traveller had also some words to communicate from the king himself: such at least was the intention of Charles three months previous. But whatever was the monarch's desire, there was only one course open to the Pope. The Master had said to the highest ecclesiastic as to the humblest disciple, "Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or tittle shall not pass from the law, till all be fulfilled." There was then no response to be made but a _non possumus_, tempered by all those considerations of a charity the most tender which were fitting upon so important an issue. And such, as we know from history, was the nature of the reply of Clement IX. to the Duke of York.

The general of the Jesuits, in his turn, owed thanks for the royal benefactions to the fraternity of Mont Quirinal. This letter, which the commonest dictates of courtesy would have enjoined, is not, however, to be found in the archives of the Jesuits at Rome. One loves to think that it was written, that the son of Charles II. bore it to Whitehall, but that the author, for weighty motives, destroyed it to the last syllable. Fr. Oliva was a man of note. He was the chief of a great apostolic order; he had grown old amid important services rendered to the Church. Italy could justly pride itself for its orators; but in Italy itself his rank for eloquence was high. He had been official "_predicateur_" to four sovereign pontiffs, and the sermons which he has left behind still attest the vigor, the fire, and the opulence of his rhetoric. It was not in such a nature to leave so significant an event as the conversion of a great monarch to the unaided efforts of a novice. Through all the previous conduct of the mission, he bore a vital part; and now when the supreme moment had come, the king hesitating, the eternal life of a nation in the balance, we cannot doubt that he was moved to write with all the energy and persuasiveness of his being. He must have seen that something more than an Anglican Church or a suspicious parliament stood in the way of the monarch's conversion; that, in the scandalous licentiousness of the English court, there was a stumbling-block equally as great. If the father-general had the courage to mingle with the language of gratitude a sincere but gentle reproof for these delinquencies, it is easy to understand why not a trace of his message remains to us.

Father Stuart was in haste to return to England, where at any moment the great interests which Providence had intrusted to him might unexpectedly be compromised. His stay at Rome was therefore brief. As soon as he had received the verbal or written replies of Fr. Oliva, and in addition (according to our opinion) those that the Pope sent to the court at Whitehall, he set out at once on his return. He quitted Rome never to return. Without doubt, in the course of the following years, he communicated by letter with his superior, who {606} did not die till 1681, four years before Charles II.; but the very nature of this correspondence precluded its being deposited in the archives of the society. From this moment, therefore, we must rely upon English history for our details. Fr. Stuart drops into obscurity; but the work for which he labored still gleams above the darkness.

It was on Jan. 18, 1669, if our previous calculation be accepted, that the pretended Prince Henry de Rohan appears again at the court of London, bringing with him his old companion in accordance with the wish expressed by the king in his last letter to Fr. Oliva. The pontifical letters, touching, energetic, full of the wisdom of God, have then been remitted; the emphatic opinions of the general of the society are known. James Stuart and the French Jesuit have had their interview with Charles; they have aroused anew in his heart those earnest and holy impressions which swayed him two months before; and the venerable Henrietta de Bourbon is waiting anxiously and in tears the moment when she may say, in the language of the gospel, "Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O Lord, according to thy word, in peace." Such is the situation of affairs at Whitehall. Recurring to the "Life of James II." we find that the historian, after speaking of the Duke of York, his interview with Fr. Symons, and his letter to the Pope, continues as follows:

"This is why his royal highness, knowing that the king was of the same mind, and had already opened himself to Lord Arundel, to Lord Arlington, and to Sir Thomas Clifford, seized an opportunity to converse with his majesty on this subject. He found him fully decided to become a Catholic, and penetrated with the danger and the constraint of his position. The king added that he desired to have, in the cabinet of the duke, a secret interview with the persons we have just named, in order to consult with them upon the means which it would be necessary to employ in order to extend the Catholic religion in the state. This interview was fixed for Jan. 25, the day on which the Church celebrates the conversion of St Paul:

"When they had come together, the king declared his sentiments upon matters of religion; he repeated what he had said to the duke regarding the embarrassments which he had experienced in being prevented from the profession of the faith to which he was attached, and told them that he had summoned them to consult upon the measures necessary to be employed in the re-establishment of the Catholic religion in his realm, and upon the most favorable measure for declaring himself openly. He remarked that there was no time to lose; that he expected to find great difficulties in the execution of his project; and that for himself he preferred to enter upon it while, like his brother, he was in the prime of life, and capable of supporting the greatest fatigues, rather than put it off later, when he would no longer have the energy to successfully manage so great a design. His majesty spoke with much force; tears filled his eyes, and he besought the gentlemen to do all that was fitting wise men and good Catholics.

"The consultation was protracted, and the ultimate decision was to act in concert with France, and to demand the assistance of his very christian majesty: the house of Austria being no longer in a condition to co-operate."

The Duke of York at once abjured with great secresy; but did Charles II. also abjure? Our opinion is that the two brothers separated from the Anglican Church at the same time; and that on the same day, at the foot of the same altar, in the hands of the same priest, they made the same profession of faith. Only one remained unchangeable in his fidelity. The other, sincere but feeble, made an honest effort to give his country liberty of conscience, was defeated at every point by the united mass of the {607} English factions, and finally fell back upon dissimulations and hypocrisies. It was Fr. Stuart who presided at this abjuration--a fact which the following considerations prove.

On the 5th of Jan., 1685, Fr. Huddleston, an English Benedictine, and a chaplain to the queen, summoned, says Lingard, in the absence of a foreign ecclesiastic in London, administered at evening the last sacraments to the king without demanding from him that act which should have preceded all others--abjuration. Charles throughout the rest of the night had full consciousness, and it would be perfectly absurd to suppose that neither Fr. Huddleston, a priest for twenty-five or thirty years, nor any of the queen's almoners, nor the Duke of York, as well as the other Catholics present, nor the sick man himself, should have thought, for five hours, of satisfying this most necessary of all conditions for admitting one among the children of the true Church.

Clearly, then, Charles had made his abjuration before his last illness. Studying the sequence of his reign, we remark that the year 1669 closes the period of calm which the brother of James II. enjoyed. Immediately after the French alliance exasperated the nation; and the rage and fury of Anglicanism were excited by the known conversion of the Duke and the Duchess of York, by that of Sir Thomas Clifford, by the second marriage of the Duke with the princess of Modena, by all that movement of Catholic activity the signs of which multiplied around the palace of the Stuarts. Presently persecution began anew, and Charles, incapable of holding head against the storm, yielded in everything; he signed the decrees of proscription, he permitted the flow of innocent blood. What priest, in such a conjuncture, would have consented to receive his abjuration? But in Jan., 1669, the presence of Henrietta of Bourbon, the pious joy of all that royal family, the hope which might reasonably be founded on the probable influence of Fr. James Stuart, united in urging forward so desirable a consummation. Charles, whose good faith we cannot justly suspect without satisfactory proof,--Charles persuaded himself that, assisted by the French monarch, and supported by his brother the duke, there was no domestic coalition which could defeat him, and he brought over the rest to his opinion by that seductive eloquence which, with him, was almost irresistible. The priest doubtless had many fears; but the priest, when there was the appearance of security, inclined toward indulgence, and on the present occasion so many reiterated assurances, so many moving supplications, so many marvellous advantages in perspective, finally disarmed him. Nothing in the duke's account prejudices this conclusion. His delicate sense of family honor, the reproach which would have attached to Charles and ultimately to all the Stuarts if the act were known, the reticence necessary to maintain regarding the king's eldest son--each and all explain the silence of that prince. Beside the offer to take the sword in hand, and to run the chances of a long and perilous civil war, would indicate less a future step than a step in the past. In our opinion, therefore, the council of Jan. 25 followed the abjuration of Charles rather than preceded it.

{608}

From The Argosy.

THE INFIORATA OF GENZANO.

If you are ever in Rome at Corpus Christi (a thing not likely to happen, by the way, as it must fall in the months when northerners shun the Campagna) do not let anything induce you to miss the Infiorata of Genzano--the gem of village festivals. We were fortunate enough to witness it last year, the first time it has been celebrated since the troubles of 1848.

All Rome turned out to assist at it. Many days before every available vehicle and beast had been bespoken, and _yet_ there was a demand.

Our mount, "Master Pietro," of half Italian, half English race, as his name symbolizes, came to fetch us punctually at the unearthly hour of seven--to get his work done ere the noontide heat. He had carried us through many lovely scenes before, and his hardy qualities adapted him well for the three days' excursion we intended to make of it, through a land where hay is scarce and oats almost unattainable. But we knew he had one idiosyncracy, of kicking violently at the approach of any mule--a frequent customer in the neighborhood of Rome--and as the crowded state of the road on that day would render it particularly unsuited for such pranks, we elected to travel along the solitary Appian Way. It was a brilliant morning of early June. A light trot soon brought us to the grand old Arch of Drusus. We could not help stopping to admire the play of light and shade on its time-worn stones, and through the fairy tracery with which nature loves to deck art. It could not have appeared more worthy of admiration the first day that--oldest of triumphal arches--its noble proportions were completed, and the imperial father saw immortalized in it the triumphs of his son. The "stern round tower of other days" demanded another pause. Often as we had passed it before, the romance with which "the Childe's" speculations have invested it make it ever an object of fresh interest. If it be the object of "huge tombs" to set all posterity wondering about their tenants, the tomb of Caecilia Metella certainly has fulfilled its mission. Who passes the massive structure and does not long to know something about the lady to whom, nearly two thousand years ago, this lasting memorial was raised? The ground-plan is a square of seventy feet, and the walls are twenty-five feet thick. In the small interior space thus formed, Caecilia's ashes reposed in a white marble sarcophagus. The inscription is of the simplest description--"Caeciliae Q. Cretici F. Metaelle Crassi;" in the neighborhood even her name is untold, and the tower is only called the "Capo di Bove," from the ornaments of the frieze.

We pushed on vigorously for a mile or two, and then came patches of the old Roman pavement, to stop Master Pietro's cantering, and give leisure to be again examining the tombs on either hand; little temples erected to house ashes--their own ruins now the subject of fostering care--and to set one wondering how mortal horses ever pranced, or ran, or drew weights over those stony blocks. "Let us hope" they were not left for an uncovered pavement, but that they served for the foundation of a coating of tufa, or something equally grateful to weary hoofs.

The lizards, bewildered with our clatter, shot madly across our path, and "the merry brown hares came leaping" from their retreat, defying {609} with their swiftness the vain attempts of our brave little lupino to run them to ground. We were thankful they all escaped with their lives, so blithe and gay among the tombs. Some ten miles of this, and then a mile through a newly-mown field, the fragrant hay most tantalizing to our probably breakfastless steeds. Some of our party knew a cut through Duke Torlonia's ground which was to save us a mile or two, but in anticipation of the festive crowd an iron chain had been made to bar the passage. It was an easy leap for Master Pietro, however, and for one or two of his companions; the others had to go round. The rise is steep, and, though in places rocky, generally good. We pass, on our rights the ancient town of Bovillae, and then on our left comes the lovely lake of Albano, and Castel Grandolfo with the Popes' modest summer palace. Another trot brings us to the "Galeria di Sopra," a delicious, gently ascending path, soft as Rotten Row, under the flickering shade of massive ilexes. It is just the place for a canter, and Master Pietro evidently thinks so as he sniffs the morning air. To our regret it comes to an end at last, and we wait behind the sheltering gateway of the Chigi palace while some of our party go in and secure beds at l'Ariccia. We have allowed little short of three hours to the seventeen miles, but still we are nearly the first to arrive, so we get the best rooms the _Locanda_ can afford, and are well satisfied with them and with our collation of pastry and wine. Our own hunger satisfied, we determine to leave Master Pietro and his brethren to their oats (if they can get any), and we walk on to Genzano. Three noble bits of viaduct save us the terrible up and down hill through which our predecessors of a few years ago had to toil.

During the few minutes we were in the hotel, "all the world" has arrived, and we are soon in the midst of a vast train of people, all following the same object, all talking earnestly, and of course very loud. A gun sounds. There is a rush. We are just too late for the start of the first race. It is _a' fantini_. Gaily dressed but clownish jockeys bestride the contending chargers, without stirrups or saddles, guiding them only by a red woollen rope. The next is _à vuoto_. The rough but ready steeds career riderless along the way lined out for them by the living hedge of spectators; and it is hard to say whether they are first brought to a stand by the roar which--suppressed by the very intensity of excitement during the race--bursts into a deafening peal as they near the goal, or by the black curtain suspended across their path, which forms the legitimate "_ripresa dei barberi_." The horse who has won the contest by his own _unridden_ impetuosity is decked with flowers and streamers, and marched through the admiring crowds, giving a knowing and majestic nod to the plumes which form his crest. A file of soldiers escorts him, and the band agitates his triumphant "progress;" he has borne all his other honors meekly, but this one chafes him. As soon as he is marched off, the crowd, breaking up as Roman crowds do into couples, soon manoeuvres itself into picturesque groups round the various stalls of the village fair. How they enjoy themselves! How gladsome and light of heart they seem!--and on what mild conditions. Does it not do one good to see their easy contentment? What strange wares form the attractions of dark, glancing eyes and generous purses! Staple commodity of the fairs of all the Roman _paesi_ is the unfailing pork, boned and rolled, and stuffed with rosemary: we did wrong not to taste it, for the eager thousands find it "very good." The Genzano wine--and the Cesarini and Jacobini cellars are open to-day--affords a more congenial temptation. It is a luscious wine, with more body and more delicate flavor than the generality of Roman wines, but lacks the sparkle of the surpassing Orvieto.

The gay scene is full of attractive interest, but, finding a couple of hours to spare, we trot back to l'Ariccia to {610} dine. Others have adopted the same course, and the _Locanda_ is all astir. What to have is always a difficult question for the most _un_fastidious anywhere in the Papal States out of Rome. A provoking waiter, who thinks he can speak French, and on all occasions comes out with his one broken sentence, "_Aspetti oon petti momenti_," finds us impracticable, and sends us the _chef de cuisine_. The _chef_, with a profusion of _issimos_, assures us there is no _cuisine_ in the world like his, and rings the changes on the well-known names we abominate. _Minestra_ we refuse, it is always water bewitched; the _lesso_ is sure to be tasteless and stringy; the _pasta_, the Roman rendering of maccaroni, underdone and indigestible; the _arrosto_, hard and tough--we will none of them. Well, a _fritto?_ If the oil is good, we have nothing to say against that; we allow you excel there. If something else we must have, we will take you on your own ground; bring us an _agro-dolce_, that is a culinary curiosity with which, after the palate has been once annealed to its compound of wine, vinegar, bacon, butter, parsley, spices, sugar, oil, chocolate, and wild boar or porcupine, you may be always glad to renew acquaintance. The wind-up of _pasticcieria_ and _frutte_ we say nothing about; we know it is useless to argue against the inevitable.

While this repast is preparing, we are driven to occupy ourselves with a study of the room and the guests. The former presents a strange mixture of primitiveness and pretension: the build is clumsy, the window-shutters cover only the glass panes, the fittings are rude, the floor is bare. But the walls have been painted in (millions-of-miles-off) imitation of Raphael's much-sinned-against Loggie! And over the mantelpiece hangs a landscape, into which a piece of looking-glass is inserted to represent a lake. The principal piece of furniture is a large glass cupboard, in which is stowed away--we know not for what grand occasion, for it is not even brought into use to-day--a set of common English willow-pattern earthenware! We cannot but smile to see our humble friend in such grand plight; and we moralize to ourselves on the subjectivity of the human mind, to which its changed estimation testifies. The angularity of the fall of the table-cloth "accuses" a table composed of a literal "board," supported on tressels; and though there are a few chairs, the majority of the guests have to be content with backless benches. At one end of our board an English artist, not unknown to fame, and his party are going through the regular routine of an Italian hotel dinner with praiseworthy patience. At another board sits a large family of natives, and we forget all note of time as we watch with astonished eyes the masses of _pasta_ they contrive to stow away, half-cooked as it is sure to be. The sight is not new to us, but every time we see it it has the same attraction, derived from the reminiscence of a delicious early surprise such as the performance of Punch and Judy always exercises on any number of Londoners. A vacant space near them is soon filled by another native, a young exquisite, who appears quite oppressed by the mild heat we northerners had been enjoying. Throwing himself at full length on the bench, he commences a violent fanning with his handkerchief; but after a minute or two his hand requires a cooler instrument, and he changes it for his hat, which in turn is exchanged for his dinner-napkin, and, finally, he completes the operation with his plate! At last the one-sentence-of-French waiter directs his steps toward our party, but, to the indignation of every individual of it, he bears the _minestra_ we forbade him to name. This has been our universal experience. The Italian mind cannot take in the idea of the possibility of dining without broth; it is useless to countermand it, it is sure to be sent to table. We explode, nevertheless, and desire the dishes we ordered to be brought without further delay. "_Aspetti oon petti momenti_," says Nicolò; {611} and better than, his word this time, it is really only _un petit moment_ before we are duly served.

Dinner despatched, we have still time to stroll over the neighborhood before we are wanted at Genzano. A walk of less than a mile, starting over the magnificent new viaduct, takes us to the straggling _paese_ (we cannot bring ourselves to call it a town) of Albano. A good-natured old fellow, always recognizable by the extreme whiteness of his stockings, hails us as we pass, in memory of old acquaintance, and is sure we must want donkeys; we cannot refuse him, and hoping Master Pietro won't see us out of his stable window, we suffer the sure-footed but ignoble substitutes to take us down the difficult descent which the viaduct was built to spare us--so wayward is woman! But the viaduct itself has created a reason for making the descent, as the sight of its noble proportions amply repays the journey.

It was completed during the reign of the present Pope, from the designs of a local engineer--one of the Jacobini family. It is formed of "arches on arches" in three ranges, six on the lowest tier, twelve in the next, and eighteen in the highest; they are each forty-nine feet wide between the piers, and sixty feet in height; the whole length of roadway, including the approaches, is nearly a quarter of a mile, and the height to top of parapet just two hundred feet. It is built of massive blocks of peperino, cut to fit each other without mortar, and the appearance is solid and grand, worthy of the models of ancient masonry by which it is surrounded. There is no attempt at ornament. The entire cost was 140,000 scudi (£33,000), [Footnote 93] and the halfpenny toll has already gone far toward repaying it.

[Footnote 93: We drove, the other day, under the viaduct of the Brighton Railway for the sake of comparing it with our memory of l^Ariccia, and were disappointed to find it a slender brick affair, for which the meaningless display of stone at the top had not prepared us. It consists of thirty-seven arches, sixty feet high, and is a little over a quarter of a mile in length. We were informed its cost was £58,000.]

Close under it lies the old ruined tomb commonly called of the Horatii and Curiatii but now determined to be that of Aruns, son of Porsenna. It has all the appearance of being of Etruscan work, and the remains are very peculiar. It is a square structure, forty-six feet every way and twenty feet high; at the four corners are the remains of four small cones, one being nearly perfect; in the centre is a cylinder, twenty-three feet across, made to contain the urn.

Our donkeys carried us bravely up the rugged hill, and then we found, to our regret, we must leave the Chigi palace, Duke Sforza's infant schools, and other objects of interest for another visit; we had only time to get back to Genzano. A great deal of business had been done at the fair, and many hearts won by the fair. The booth-keepers, having sold off their stock, had shut up shop and gone away, and the merry couples were circulating freely. The rosemaried pork and Genzano wine had given them strength and vigor and gaiety--let it not be understood that we see any trace of excess; all is mirth and good humor and picturesqueness. At last six o'clock strikes, and, like an army marshalled by the word of command, the spontaneous and unanimous will of the thousands of sightseers brings them in serried procession up the broad street, where the Infiorata lies sparkling and rendering up its varied and gorgeous reflections to the sun's rays which bathe it.

Beautiful and delicate tribute of a poetical people! The occasion is the festival of the Blessed Sacrament; and as it is carried among them in solemn procession the custom of all Catholic countries is to strew flowers along the way; but here the idea has taken a development of a surpassing order, if not unique--as if no care could be too great: not only are the most brilliant flowers planted months before, and collected from distant contributors, but when the day arrives all these are made to form the most exquisite {612} mosaics. What is a Gobelins carpet to this weft of nature's own materials! A cord is drawn up both sides of the road to keep the flowered centre clear, and no one thinks of infringing the slight barrier. The rising ground is most favorable for displaying in two lines, ascending and descending, the endless variety of elaborate devices of tesselation. Costly marbles of different hues fitly pave the basilica; the glazed _axulejos_ cooled the Moslem's feet at the same time that they pleased his eye; the velvet-pile tapestries of British looms carpet the bleak floors of our northern homes; and the stiff geometrical tiles, angular and uncomfortable as everything Gothic is, suit very well to our Gothic churches. Each and all have their fitness; and what is the Infiorata? It is the tribute of a simple and poor, but imaginative and loving, people "preparing to meet their God."

"O earth, grow flowers beneath his feet, And thou, O sun, shine bright this day! He comes, he comes,--O heaven on earth! Our Jesus comes upon his way,"

sings one of their hymns for the occasion. And, poor tillers of the earth, the only offering they _can_ make is of the flowers which "her children are." We looked on with an artist's and humanitarian's enjoyment. And delicious enjoyment it was! It was the fresh enjoyment of our childhood over again to trace the rich mosaic designs spread before us; and we pity him who does not know the enjoyment of the sensation of color. There were the arms of the Stato Pontificio, and of the _paese_, and of the Cesarini and Jacobini, with all their bearings and all their tinctures and then, as it were, the arms of the blessed sacrament--the symbols under which it is figured. The herald must find a new nomenclature; already he has a separate one for commonalty, nobility, and royalty, but now, for a "greater than Solomon," he must devise another. To his "sol, topaz, or," he must add the marigold; and to his "luna, pearl, argent," the lily. Then came arabesques in perplexing mazes of tracery; every line true, and every harmony or contrast of tint faultless. By a refinement least of all to be expected, in the centre of some of the compartments a tiny fountain had been introduced, "flinging delicious coolness round the air, and verdure o'er the ground." Nothing that poets have fabled of fairyland or paradise ever exceeded it in imaginative luxuriance.

"O what a wilderness of flowers! It seemed as though from all the bowers And fairest fields of all the year The mingled spoils were scattered here. The pathway like a garden breathes With the rich buds that o'er it lie, As if a shower of fairy wreaths Had fallen upon it from the sky."

A crowd of Romans is not surrounded by a savory atmosphere. We are never in one without finding that the thing Cleopatra exceedingly feared had fallen upon us--

"In their thick breath. Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded. And forced to drink their vapor."

Their baths are things of the past; their picturesque costume looks as if it were never renewed during a whole life; their houses are dingy, and bare, and comfortless; yet we have before us the proof that they possess a delicacy of both feeling and taste which it would be impossible to find surpassed anywhere.

Meantime the procession from the church approaches, and a hush succeeds the merry din which has stunned us so long; the last pertinacious "_Ecco! zigari!_" and "_Acqua fresca_!" is sung out. And in their harsh nasal intonation the appropriated hymns are begun by the priests and taken up by the whole population, very much after the fashion of a horse running away; without any regard for time and very little for tune, but with a heartiness and earnestness which we try to persuade ourselves ought to compensate for the "skinning" of our ears. The untidy choristers precede and follow in due numbers, and the quaint confraternities, in various dresses, bearing unwieldy, misshapen {613} banners, waddle and hobble behind. Slovenly men with unwashed hands carry great yellow tapers, and a ragged urchin runs by the side of each catching the droppings into a piece of stiff paper. The whole thing is disenchanting and disedifying; but we see so plainly the impression that they think they are doing their best reflected from so many hundred beaming countenances, that we end by exhausting our squeamishness, and learn to look on the Genzanese modes of devotion from their own standing-point. By the time it has taken to effect this, however, the procession has regained the church, where we find it impossible to penetrate, and so we turn to take a last look at the Infiorata. Alas! it has all vanished, as completely as if it had been the emanation of fairyland it appeared to be. As soon as the procession had passed the people broke in, eager to possess themselves of the flowers as a sort of relic. From what we saw of the process of undoing, it appeared that the mosaics were not composed of whole flowers, except in some instances where their form adapted them to form special designs, but the generality were made with shred petals, by which means masses of color were obtained in the most manageable quantities. There was, in most cases, a board or oil-cloth for a foundation, with the patterns marked out in chalk; but the blending of colors seemed to have been left to the individual taste of the workers.

We get back to our narrow rooms at l'Ariccia in time to escape the firing of the _mortaletti_ and _botti_ (small guns and crackers) without which an Italian _festa_ is seldom considered complete.

Nicolò is much disappointed that we will not again trust to the resources of his cuisine, and exclaims "_Aspetti con petti momenti_," as he goes in quest of our bed-lamps. While we wait, we hear our Italian fellow-diners angrily complaining that mine host had taken advantage of the throng of visitors to cheat them of their due proportion of _pasta!_ The quantity sent up for four was only the due mess of one, _selon_ them. What a spectacle we should have had if it had been dealt out to them according to their own measure!

From Chamber's Journal.

BROADCAST THY SEED.

Broadcast thy seed! Although some portion may be found To fall on uncongenial ground, Where sand, or shard, or stone may stay Its coming into light of day; Or when it comes, some pestilent air May make it droop or wither there-- Be not discouraged; some will find Congenial soil and gentle wind, Refreshing dew and ripening shower, To bring it into beauteous flower, From flower to fruit, to glad thine eyes, And fill thy soul with sweet surprise. Do good, and God will bless thy deed-- Broadcast thy seed!

{614}

From The Month.

CONSTANCE SHERWOOD:

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

BY LADY GEORGIANA FULLERTON.