CHAPTER V.

It may appear strange, perhaps even incredible, that the lower classes of Madeirans should have leisure, from their humble duties and the labors required by their daily necessities, to attend at so many festas and public ceremonies as we shall have occasion to describe, and to indulge beside in their extravagant fancy for golden ornaments. But the seeming enigma is easily solved. In the first place, the men of the peasant class leave home for Demara every year, remaining away, at high wages, from six to eight months, and then returning with money sufficient to enable them to indulge {276} their families daring the remainder of the year in their oriental taste for festas and finery. Secondly, almost all the manual occupations connected with agriculture devolve on the women, so that the absence of either husbands, sons, or brothers neither retards nor diminishes the autumn fruits. Added to this, they employ themselves during the evening hours, and at other seasons when out-door labor is either impossible or unnecessary, in those arts to which female faculties are particularly appropriate. Nothing can exceed the exquisite beauty of the embroidery on cambric and lace executed by some of the peasant women, and which comes from their skilful fingers so perfectly white and pure that it is fit for the wear of a princess the moment it is freed from the paper on which the design had been traced, and over which it had been worked. Others, not possessing such delicate taste as the embroiderers, exert their ingenuity in knitting shawls, and veils, and pin-cushion covers, in black or white thread, drawing on their own imaginations for new and curious patterns; while some few devote their leisure time to netting black silk shawls and scarfs, for which they also invent the designs.

The earnings of the women by the sale of these articles to strangers are considerable, and so completely at their own disposal that they can independently indulge, whenever opportunities offer, in their taste for ornament and emotional spectacles. The wear and tear, however, of such a mode of life deprive them at an early period of their native beauty, leaving them at twenty-five little more than that grace and freedom of attitude which they retain to the close of the longest life.

The men also have their handicrafts, and the emoluments arising from their exercise; and those of them who are either too old or too young, or too indolent, or too sincerely attached to home to seek the toils of labor and their reward in Demara, employ themselves in making articles of inlaid wood, such as writing-desks, work-boxes, paper-cutters, and pen-trays. The designs on many of these give evidence of refined and skilful taste, while others only indicate a fantastic ingenuity. The most perfect of these manufactures are eagerly secured for the Portuguese market by agents, who generally make an honest estimate of their value, while those of less merit are set aside till some of the visitors to Madeira proportion their worth by their own abundant wealth.

This digression has been so long that, instead of returning now to the midnight wanderers mentioned at the close of the lost chapter, I shall request my readers to imagine it ten o'clock A.M. on Saturday morning, and, consequently, two hours before the commencement of the Sabbath of the Madeirans. Once more the Praca da Constitutionel is filled with an eager and picturesque throng--peasants, artisans, aristocrats, merchants, masqueraders, beggars, and curiosity-venders all mingled together, and all, either from motives of piety or inquisitiveness, once more seeking admission to the cathedral, whose fine proportions and gorgeous ornaments are still veiled in thick darkness.

By some magic influence the wealthier portion of the multitude have all obtained entrance, and then, the cathedral being full, the door is forcibly closed. Directly this occurs the crowd disperse, and while strangers are still trying to unravel the mystery of such unusual self-denial, troops of little children and young girls are entering the Praca dressed in white, wearing silver-tissue wings, snowy festive wreaths, and carrying on their arms beautiful baskets of cane-work filled with ranunculuses and lilies. Boys in embroidered tunics and carrying silver censers follow these, and presently numbers of these men who had left that the children might take up their proper positions, now return, having in the meantime provided themselves with fire-arms and rockets.

{277}

While all these changes take place without, preachers are succeeding each other every half hour in the pulpit within the cathedral. At length one loud sonorous stroke on a gong, or some other metallic substance, is heard from the sacristy, announcing the hour of noon, and then in an instant, as if by magic, the wooden blinds without and the black curtains within are gone from the windows, the veil which had concealed the altar disappears, and a blaze of light fills the edifice, displaying a scene resplendent with gold and gems, tapers and flowers; while simultaneously with the pouring in of the light, thrilling and enthusiastic voices singing, "Christ is risen! Christ is risen!" join the peal which, like a roar of triumph, had burst from the organ.

When the multitude have sufficiently recovered the stunning effects of this scene to separate cause and effect, they perceive that every pillar and column from pedestal to chapiter is enwreathed with gorgeous ranunculuses and snowy lilies, mingled with the rich green leaves of the allegro campo, that crowns and garlands of silver leaves and artificial dew-drops are scattered profusely, yet with artistic taste, over the high altar and the various side altars; while pendent from that masterpiece of art--the sculptured ceiling of native juniper--are rich chaplets of gold leaves and gems, seeming as if ready to fall on and crown the heads of the worshippers.

After a short interval, the bishop, in dazzling robes, wearing his jewelled mitre, and followed by a train of priests in gorgeous vestments, is seen standing in front of the high altar, which on this occasion is covered with a white satin cloth, worked in silver, while huge candelabras, inlaid with precious stones, gleam in front of the recesses known as the diaconicum and the prothesis. In the former are kept the vessels belonging to the altar, and in the other the bread and wine used at the celebration of the mass.

A short mass having been performed by priests and choir, the great door is opened, and the people crowding into the Praca are met by the little children and young girls strewing flowers over the streets, by the graceful youths swinging silver censers and filling the ambient air with light columns of costly incense; by bands playing the most inspiriting airs; by masquers and others in ordinary costume sending off rockets and Roman candles, and by hundreds of artisans bearing fire-arms, the sharp report of which, mingling with the booming of cannon, the braying of trumpets, and the soft chimes of bells, filled the air with a most indescribable din.

In a few moments, however, a cloud overshadows the scene--a cloud which comes not silently but with a whirring, joyful noise, and with the beat of fleet pinions. Every one looks up, and behold, there are the doves--doves in hundreds, sent off by nuns, and monks, and other devotees, to proclaim in their broad-winged flight the welcome news that "Christ is risen!"

Having witnessed all this, and while the joyful excitement is still unabated, you enter your home, imagining that nothing of the peculiar usages or customs of a place in which you are a stranger can follow you there, save the sounds which float in through your shaded windows; but an agreeable surprise awaits you. The Madeirans are too gentle and affectionate in their dispositions to forget in a time of such universal joy even the stranger who may differ from them in religion, and, accordingly, you find awaiting you a little girl, neatly dressed, and bearing in her hands a dish covered with a white lace veil. She has been sent by the nuns, and delivers her present with a suitable message.

Uncovering the dish you see a wreath of flowers round the edge, and in the centre a little lamb made of sugar, lying amidst almond comfits of {278} every delicate shade of Magenta, blue, and violet. A wreath of sugar-flowers crowns the head of the lamb, and a similar one graces its neck.

With this picturesque gift you may sometimes receive a present of royal and heavenly bacon. These singularly-named dishes are composed of eggs and sugar. The first is passed through a hair sieve, falling in a heap of rings and curls on the dish; the other is made into thick slices, and lies on the dish drowned in sweet syrup.

[ORIGINAL.]

THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY. [Footnote 46]

[Footnote 46: Prospectus of The Catholic Publication Society. Tract No. 1, "Indifferentism in Religion and its Remedy." No. 2, "The Plea of Sincerity." No. 3, "The Forlorn Hope." No. 4, "Prisoner of Cayonne."]

Nothing in the history of the human mind can be more obvious, even to a superficial observer, than the fact that every age has possessed intellectual features peculiar to itself, growing out of its own particular need. Thus we find the mental activity of one period setting in a strong current toward moral and metaphysical speculation and of another toward scientific discovery. When one has obtained predominance, the other has been measurably neglected.

At the present time, however, the fact is otherwise. The diligence heretofore manifested in the conquest of special subjects is now diffused over a greater area; and the energies of the mind, instead of being concentrated upon the profound and exhaustive knowledge of a few branches of learning, are directed to the acquisition of a general knowledge of many. Hence, popular instruction today, to be successful, must be simplified and condensed, rendered suitable to popular apprehension and fixed at a point demanding the least amount of mental labor and promising immediate and tangible results.

It would need but little argument to show how these conditions of knowledge have been brought about. The vast development and wonderful discoveries of science within the last century, the increase of commercial and mechanical industry, the settlement and growth of America with its vast resources of wealth, are sufficient to account for a material change in the intellectual status of Christendom. Science by increasing the means of human enjoyment has increased the extent of human wants; these, by the force of habit in one class and the stimulus of ambition in another, have become in time absolute necessities. Thus men engage in eager strife to attain what all unite in esteeming essential to human happiness.

Now since our nature has moral and intellectual longings--however subdued by the engrossing occupations of active life--which are still absolute and imperative, up to a certain point, it would seem that instruction to suit the exigency of the times must be conveyed in such a manner and by such means as the opportunities and inclinations of mankind require. You may easily gain attention to truth by a concise, simple mode of addressing the intellect, demanding but little time and not very severe thought, when you cannot secure it by presenting the subject in a more profound way, by more elaborate proofs or by more subtle and comprehensive views. If knowledge, therefore, cannot be imparted in such a way as to suit both the capacity and convenience of men, it can rarely be communicated at all. {279} What is deemed the most important pursuit of a man's life is that to which he will pay the greatest attention. If he cannot attain mental improvement by means he considers easy and agreeable, the probabilities are that in a great majority of cases he will neglect it. Here, however, there is but little difficulty. Whenever a public necessity is fully recognized, the means of supplying it will not be long wanting. Hence, we see at the present time every art and science reduced to its elementary principles and presented to the public mind in plain rudimentary lessons, so that, while comparatively few are deeply versed in any one subject, the great mass of thinkers are well informed in the general outlines of many.

What has been said with regard to matters more strictly intellectual may be affirmed with almost equal truth of such as are purely moral. You may instruct a hundred men in their duty by means of a tract of ten pages, setting forth incentives to virtue in a cogent argument or forcible appeal, where you would scarcely be able to obtain a hearing from one by means of an elaborate essay on ethics, however able or convincing. Now, it is evident that a duty, carrying all the weight of deep obligation, rests upon those who have the higher interests of mankind at heart to provide for them the means of moral and intellectual improvement; and not only so, but to furnish it in such a shape as shall be most acceptable and productive of the most hopeful and lasting results. That such an obligation exists, is apparent from the general establishment of public and common schools and from the numerous efforts constantly made to disseminate knowledge among the masses. The ends here proposed, however, are animated by a sentiment of general benevolence or political expediency. If, then, we owe to society the moral and intellectual advancement of the people from motives of public interest, surely our obligations are not diminished by those higher considerations which readily suggest themselves to a religious mind.

We are now prepared for the question, Are we doing our duty in this matter? But to bring it nearer home and to address the more immediate circle of our readers, Are we Catholic Christians doing what we know to be required of us in the education of our people with sufficient faithfulness to satisfy an enlightened conscience? Engrossed in more selfish pursuits, have we not rather neglected this business and turned it over to others who are only more responsible than ourselves? We speak to Catholic laymen when we say it is greatly to be feared that we are not wholly blameless. And here one word as regards the relative positions of clergy and laity in the church and their mutual want of co-operation in such things as may fairly come under the charge of both.

Every one knows that among all sects of Protestants the laity perform no inconsiderable amount of labor and share no little responsibility with the pastor. As teachers and superintendents of Sunday-schools, leaders of Bible classes, heads of missionary societies and the like, their influence is much felt and their usefulness highly appreciated by their co-religionists. Among Catholics, where the priests have generally three times the ministerial duty of Protestants to perform, the pastor of a church gets little or no aid from the laity. His mission may extend over twenty miles of territory, and he is expected not only to administer the sacraments to both sick and well, but to do all that is necessary in the religious training of the children. In fact, the instruction of the young is generally looked upon as belonging peculiarly to his office. And yet it cannot be denied that well-disposed laymen of moderate intelligence can at times, acting under his advice and counsel, very materially assist the overworked priest without trenching in the least upon his {280} vocation. The benefit of such assistance could not but be sensibly felt in those parishes which receive the services of a priest in common with others. In the more thinly populated districts of our country the want of priests is a crying necessity, known and felt by every prelate in the land. It is morally impossible after mass said on Sunday morning, at two points perhaps fifteen miles apart, that the priest can preach a sermon and attend to other duties arising from the urgent and imperative wants of his cure. He cannot administer holy baptism, hear confessions, visit the sick, bury the dead, say mass, recite his office, attend to church temporalities (no small affair in some instances of itself) and yet find time to give the requisite instruction to his people.

We can but be aware that regular pulpit instruction is a most effectual mode of promoting piety and one of which we ought not to be deprived. We require at least all the agencies for this purpose enjoyed by others. The people, too, are eager for it. Mark the strict attention with which Catholic congregations follow every word of the preacher, and mark, too, the effect of an earnest and appropriate sermon! It is plainly visible upon the faces of old and young. In addition to this, the command given in Holy Scripture to preach is imperative. Are we not, then, bound to more than ordinary exertion to comply with it?

Such, unfortunately, is the proneness of men to forget their religious duties that they require precept upon precept, often renewed and diligently urged upon their minds. Surrounded by temptation, forgetfulness of the great practical truths of religion is not strange in the absence of direct spiritual teaching. The sacraments of the church, especially the holy sacrifice of the altar, undoubtedly do much to arrest spiritual decline in the people; but no one will deny that frequent appeals to the conscience, and judicious instruction in the principles of Catholic faith and morality, however conveyed to the understanding, are valuable aids even to the worthy reception of the sacraments.

It is to supply the deficiencies here aimed at that this enterprise, with the hearty approbation of several prelates, has been undertaken, which, if it shall receive the cordial support of the Catholic public, will produce results the extent of which is not to be easily foreseen. Those persons who have attempted the task are actuated with a settled determination that it shall succeed; and it is not to be believed, in a matter of so great moment, that they are to be left without the substantial help of Catholics throughout the country. A society has been formed, and its work has already begun, styled "The Catholic Publication Society," to which the attention of our readers was called in our last number. This society proposes to issue short tracts and pamphlets conveying that species of instruction required by Catholics in the most entertaining form, so as to engage the attention, affect the hearts, and suit the wants of all classes. To none would such a blessing be more welcome than to the poor, who are in an especial manner, from their very defencelessness, under our protection. These, though they may not read themselves, can listen to their children, taught at school, who can read for them. Thus, in a simple narrative or dialogue some important practical truths may be impressed upon the mind which shall do good service in a moment of temptation. It is by these means that other denominations are instructing their people and producing an influence on many outside of their own communions.

The number of Catholics in this country, already large, is constantly increasing, and unless we do something of the kind here suggested, others will attempt it in our stead. Religious tracts from Protestant societies are flying over the country like leaves before the autumn wind, and it {281} would not be remarkable if our own people were brought within the range of their influence.

Beside this, there is another field in which we have not only the right to work, but which we cannot, or at least ought not to, neglect. There are thousands of young men in the land of fair education who, impelled by necessity or ambition, flock to the great commercial centres. These, careless in matters of religion, having no settled principles of faith, often called upon to confront great dangers and temptations, seldom attend any place of worship; or if so, only to relieve the ennui of Sunday. These are souls to be cared for. They need instruction upon cardinal points of the Christian faith. They may have received something akin to it in early youth, but it has been forgotten. They are difficult to reach, and in no way can access to them be gained more readily than by the publications of this society. A few words of earnest advice, a hint as to the end of a vicious career, or a warning of the uncertainty of life, may excite reflection, and reflection is the first step toward reformation.

At a time like the present of vast intellectual activity, when myriads of books are produced on all subjects embracing every description of teaching, there must be abroad not only a great mass of error, but a great number of unstable minds ready to receive it. Men imperfectly educated, striving to master subjects far beyond their comprehension, trained to no logical modes of thought, restrained by no respect for authority, confounding scepticism with freedom of inquiry, are often led by a dangerous curiosity to examine certain fundamental questions which lie at the root of all knowledge, and which can only be safely handled by the most learned and profound. Such is the class of persons peculiarly to be benefited by Catholic teaching. A theology positive and satisfying to the soul, that sets wholesome limits to human knowledge, and is able to give adequate answers to great social and moral problems, is best adapted to impress minds of this class. The reading of three pages has before now convinced a man of the error of his whole philosophical system, and may do it again.

The spirit of Catholic charity takes in all sorts and conditions of men. The mission of the church is well defined, and may be summed up in one word, namely, to convert the world to God; and as every day brings its blessings upon labors that have been already undertaken to secure this object, we have reason to hope that new efforts and fresh zeal, well directed, will produce abundant fruits.

We cannot close this notice of the Catholic Publication Society without adverting to one means of usefulness which we think it is especially fitted to promote.

Such has been the virulence of hostility to the Catholic religion in days gone by, such the monstrous credulity and unreasoning prejudice of its foes, that it is not surprising to find a true knowledge of the Catholic faith exceedingly rare. Within the last twenty years, however, a great change has taken place. The general blamelessness of life in those who honor their religion, fidelity to social and political duties, and charity toward our enemies, have not been without precious results. At the present moment religious bigotry can no longer animate the hatred alike of wise and simple. One who comes prepared to censure, must come prepared also for the conflict of truth. Statements, facts, and opinions are closely scrutinized. Everything is not now taken upon trust. The attitude of controversy begets caution. Now, what advantages may we not hope to reap from this one isolated fact? A fair hearing for the true exposition of Catholic doctrine; not doctrine carefully prepared with exterior show of fairness and then imputed to us for the purpose of being more easily {282} destroyed; but of the truths of Christianity as taught by the church for ages. When we can gain the unprejudiced ear of the world, truly we may begin to hope for the day of Christian unity.

To disarm prejudice is of itself a work worthy of special effort. We can hope to make no great progress in persuading men to listen to the voice of Christian truth until we can convince them that our teaching rests upon the basis of sound reason. Those who have been told that to embrace Catholic doctrine is to surrender at discretion all the powers of the mind, and even the evidence of the senses, must be undeceived before they can be expected to make any progress in the impartial investigation of it. But it is chiefly among Catholics themselves that we predict the greatest success for this association. Of our own people there are very many who need that instruction which hitherto we have not had the adequate means of providing for them. We all feel how important it is that every Catholic should be thoroughly intelligent upon all that he is required to believe, and the reasons that exist for requiring it. In every class of society Catholics are called upon to render an account of the faith that is in them, to explain the doctrines and ceremonies of their religion, and when unable to do so, they both suffer the evil consequences of this ignorance themselves and, by it, retard the spread of the knowledge of the truth among those whom the church is equally commissioned to enlighten, guide, and save.

We have advocated the aims of the Catholic Publication Society at greater length than we at first intended, but feel that in consideration of their importance we have not said too much. It is impossible to over-estimate the good this society may, with God's blessing, be made to accomplish. To make it effective, its organization throughout the United States should be co-extensive with the church itself. Our work in this country is getting ahead of us. The religious needs of our people are rapidly increasing. If we are not up and doing in proper season, we shall find that during our repose the enemy has been sowing tares among the wheat. The harvest is great, but the laborers few. Let us all, then, as God gives us grace to know our duty, take this matter earnestly to heart, and let us not suffer under the reproach of denying to our fellow-Christians all the spiritual food they are willing to receive.

What is here proposed is truly a missionary work. Efforts of this kind can only be successful by zealous labor and generous support; and we sincerely hope, as the plan by which funds are to be raised becomes generally known, the Catholic public will not deny liberal aid to so worthy a cause. Almost every one can lend a helping hand. It will be seen by reference to the Society's Prospectus that the sum of five dollars constitutes a member for one year. Parents could hardly gratify their children more than by subscribing for them. It gives young folks the idea that they amount to something in this world when they find their own names enrolled on the books of a religious society. The sum of thirty dollars constitutes a member for five years and of fifty dollars a life member. Patrons of one hundred and five hundred dollars will not be wanting amongst so many generous and appreciative Catholics as there are in the country. A number of these last have already come forward in the city of New York, and subscribed that amount to constitute a fund to enable the society to accomplish its missionary work, and we are sure that this call will elicit a similar ready response from many in other cities and towns who wait only to know what to do for the advancement of their holy faith in order to do it. Your parish priest is willing to spend and be spent in your service. Show your gratitude by making him a member of one of the above classes. He will accept it from you as a beautiful testimonial of {283} your esteem and respect. It has also been suggested by an eminent prelate and patron of the society that it would greatly promote its success if a clergyman should be appointed in each diocese by the ecclesiastical authority, to take charge of the society's interests, and to act as its agent.

We trust as the enterprise becomes more extensively known that generous hearts will be found to feel a voluntary interest in this work and prompted to aid it without further solicitation. Let it not be forgotten that one of the objects of this society is to supply religious reading to the inmates of hospitals, almshouses, asylums, and prisons--a class of persons whose spiritual welfare requires to be specially looked after. Benevolence has no more sacred field than among this unfortunate class; and we hope that those who have so often proved themselves worthy of their faith by relieving the physical wants of their fellow-creatures, will not be found indifferent to the spiritual. In short, what we desire of our fellow-Catholics is, that an interest in this matter should become general throughout the country; and that each one should assist as he is able, either alone or in conjunction with his neighbors. Several prelates have already become patrons of this society, and the venerable Archbishop of Baltimore has honored it by contributing the first tract.

While treating of the practical part of this subject, we desire to say that priests residing in the remote parts of the country can be furnished with the society's publications on precisely the same terms as those living near at hand. They will be supplied at prices _never exceeding cost_, postage prepaid. All Catholics, in every section of our land, have an equal interest in its success.

Upon the co-operation of the clergy we, of course, confidently rely. To aid them in their arduous duties is one of the objects of the society. It will be a most powerful auxiliary to the priesthood in spreading instruction among our own people and the truths of the Catholic faith among all classes of our community. If they should ask us what we would have them do, we reply--"Reflect upon the immense importance of this enterprise to the souls of men; and, when you have comprehended what a vast work of usefulness lies before this society, your own intelligence and good dispositions will best suggest the manner in which you can most successfully lend your aid."

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND A PORTION OF CHRIST'S ONE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH, AND A MEANS OF RESTORING VISIBLE UNITY. An Eirenicon, in a Letter to the Author of "The Christian Year." By E. B. Pusey, D.D., Regius Professor of Hebrew and Canon of Christ Church, Oxford. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1866. (Reprint from the English edition.)

Dr. Pusey's "Eirenicon" has been extensively commented on by the Catholic press both in England and on the Continent. Some of his critics have regarded it with favorable eyes, as a sign of approach toward the Catholic Church, and others with marked hostility, as an evidence of determined opposition. We concur with the former class most decidedly. The most remarkable of all the answers it has called forth is that of Dr. Newman, republished in our April number, and since then issued in a separate form, with all the notes, by Mr. Kehoe. Dr. Newman confines himself to one point, however--the defence of the {284} Catholic doctrine concerning the Blessed Virgin. The "Dublin Review" has given a very able criticism on the portion which relates to the attitude of the Church of England. An admirable article has also appeared in the learned Jesuit periodical, "Etudes Religieuses," published at Paris, which is especially valuable for its exposition of the doctrinal authority of the Holy See. As a general answer to Dr. Pusey's specific proposals concerning the way of reconciliation with Rome, we consider P. Lockhart's article, in the "Weekly Register," as the most judicious and satisfactory. The following letter, from Dr. Pusey to the editor, shows how he himself appreciated this answer:

LETTER FROM DR. PUSEY ON HIS HOPES OF REUNION.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE WEEKLY REGISTER: CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD, NOV. 22, 1865.

Sir: I thank you, with all my heart, for your kind-hearted and appreciative review of my "Eirenicon." I am thankful that you have brought out the main drift and objects of it, what, in my mind, underlies the whole, to show that, in my conviction, there is no insurmountable obstacle to the union of (you will forgive the terms, though you must reject them) the Roman, Greek, and Anglican communions. I have long been convinced that there is nothing in the Council of Trent which could not be explained satisfactorily to us, if it were explained _authoritatively--i.e._ by the Roman Church itself, not by individual theologians only. This involves the conviction, on my side, that there is nothing in our Articles which cannot be explained rightly, as not contradicting any things held to be _de fide_ in the Roman Church. The great body of the faith is held alike by both; in those subjects referred to in our Art. XXII. I believe (to use the language of a very eminent Italian nobleman) "your [our] _maximum_ and our [your] _minimum_ might be found to harmonize." In regard to details of explanation, it was not my office, as being a priest only, invested with no authority, to draw them out. But I wished to indicate their possibility. You are relatively under the same circumstances. But I believe that the hope which you have held out, that the authorities in the Roman communion _might_ hold that "a reunion on the principles of Bossuet would be better than a perpetual schism," will unlock many a pent-up longing--pent-up on the ground of the apparent hopelessness that Rome would accord to the English Church any terms which it could accept.

May I add, that nothing was further from my wish than to write anything which should be painful to those in your communion? A defence, indeed, of necessity, involves some blame; since, in a quarrel, the blame must be wholly on the one side or on the other, or divided; and a defence implies that it is not wholly on the side defended. But having smoothed down, as I believe honestly, every difficulty I could, to my own people, I thought that it would not be right toward them not to state where I conceive the real difficulty to lie. Nor could your authorities meet our difficulties unless they knew them. You will think it superfluous that I desired that none of this system, which is now matter of "pious opinion," should, like the doctrine of the immaculate conception be made _de fide_. But, in the view of a hoped-for reunion, everything which you do affects us. Let me say, too, that I did not write as a reformer, but on the defensive. It is not for us to prescribe to Italians or Spaniards what they shall hold, or how they shall express their pious opinions. All which we wish is to have it made certain by authority that we should not, in case of reunion, be obliged to hold them ourselves. Least of all did I think of imputing to any of the writers whom I quoted that they "took from our Lord any of the love which they gave to his mother." I was intent only on describing the system which I believe is the great obstacle to reunion. I had not the least thought of criticising holy men who held it.

As it is of moment that I should not be misunderstood by my own people, let me add that I have not intended to express any opinion about a visible head of the church. _We readily acknowledge the primary of the Bishop of Rome; the bearings of that primacy upon other local churches we believe to be a matter of ecclesiastical, not of divine law; but neither is there anything in the supremacy in itself to which we should object._ Our only fear is that it should, through the appointment of one bishop, involve the reception of that practical _quasi_--authoritative system which is, I believe, alike the cause and (forgive me) the justification in our eyes of our remaining apart.

But, although I intended to be on the defensive, I thank you most warmly for that tenderness which enabled you to see my aim and objects throughout a long and necessarily miscellaneous work. And I believe that the way in which you have treated this our _bonâtell you fide_ "endeavor to find a basis for reunion, on the principle debated between Archbishop Wake and the Gallican divines two centuries ago," will, by rekindling hope, give a strong {285} impulse toward that reunion. Despair is still. If hope is revived in the English mind that Christendom may again be united, rekindled hope will ascend in the more fervent prayer to him who "maketh men to be of one mind in an house," and our prayers will not return unheard for want of love. Your obedient servant,

E. B. PUSEY.

This letter, with others which have appeared from time to time, and the whole course of Dr. Pusey's conduct, prove, in our estimation, that he is acting with sincere good faith and goodwill toward the Catholic Church. The long list of objections and charges which his book contains, and which has irritated some Catholics so much, proves only that Dr. Pusey's mind is troubled and bewildered, but not that his heart is malevolent. The doctor is a very learned man, and a very deep thinker, but in the mystic or contemplative order. He is not either rapid or clear in his intellectual conceptions, nor is he precise and methodical in the arrangement of the subject of which he treats. He represents the best school of English evangelical and scriptural divines, with the addition of extremely high-church doctrines. No one can question his devout and deeply religious spirit, the extraordinary purity and goodness of his life, or the zeal and ability with which he has labored for fifty years to propagate several of the most fundamental Catholic dogmas. His essay on baptismal regeneration is the most thorough and exhaustive one in our language, and we have never met with anything equal to it in any other. It has had an incalculable influence over the theological mind of the Episcopalian communion in England and America, in laying the foundation of a right belief in sacramental grace, and thus preparing the way for the reception of the entire Catholic system. The same may be said, in part, respecting the doctrine of the real presence, the authority of tradition, and other points. We look on him as a kind of _avant courier_ not only of high-churchmen, but of orthodox Protestants generally, laboring his way with difficulty through thickets and morasses back to the Catholic Church, by dint of study, meditation, and prayer. That he has come so near, bringing with him the sympathy of so large a number, is a sign that an extraordinary grace of the Holy Spirit is drawing the most widely separated members of the Christian family back to unity and integrity of faith and communion. We request our readers to take note of the fact that Dr. Pusey, boldly and without censure, maintains that the articles of his church can and ought to be explained in conformity with the decrees of the Council of Trent. He proposes these decrees as the basis of reconciliation. That there should still remain certain difficulties, prepossessions, and misconceptions in his mind, is not strange; and while these exist as a bar to a complete and cordial reception of the entire Catholic system, there is no other way for him to do but to state them as strongly as possible, so as to bring them under discussion. There are only two of these difficulties which are formidable. One relates to the office of the Blessed Virgin as Mother of the Incarnate Word and Queen of Saints; the other, to that of the Pope as Vicar of Christ and supreme Bishop of the Catholic Church. A critical notice gives no opportunity for discussing such great and grave questions, which demand an elaborate volume. The prelates and theologians of the church will no doubt give them the full and ample treatment which they deserve. We simply note the fact that the whole ground of discussion is reduced in fact, by Dr. Pusey, to the nature and extent of the Papal supremacy, on which depends the definition of the body actually constituting the _Ecclesia Docens_ or teaching church, and the dogmatic value of the decisions made by the Roman Church with the concurrence of the bishops in her communion. It is evident that the concession of the supremacy claimed by the Roman Church involves the admission of all the dogmatic decisions of the councils ratified by the popes as ecumenical, from the Eighth Council to the Council of Trent; together with the dogmatic definition of the immaculate conception, and the condemnations of heretical propositions which have issued from the Holy See and are universally acknowledged and enforced by all bishops in her communion. There is but one point, therefore, really in controversy with the party of Dr. Pusey, as there is but one with the so-called Greek Church, viz.: the Papal supremacy.

It will be noticed by every attentive reader that Dr. Pusey partially admits {286} this doctrine already, and shows himself open to argument on the subject. On the other great question, respecting the prerogatives of the Blessed Virgin Mary, he appears to show himself also disposed to listen to explanations tending to remove his misconceptions. In a letter to Dr. Wordsworth, published in the "Weekly Register," of Jan. 27, Dr. Pusey says:

"In regard to 'the immaculate conception,' . . . I may, however, take this opportunity of saying that I understand that Roman divines hold that all which is defined is, that the soul of the Blessed Virgin was infused pure into her body, and was preserved from both guilt and taint of original sin for those merits of our Lord, by whom she was redeemed, and that nothing is defined as to 'active conception,' i.e., that of her body. In this case, the words, 'in primo instanti conceptionis suae,' must be used in a different sense from that in which St. Thomas uses it of our Lord. The immaculateness of the conception would then differ in degree, not in kind, from that of Jeremiah, who was sanctified in his mother's womb."

It must be borne in mind that Dr. Pusey finds no fault with the language of the Latin or Greek missals and breviaries respecting the Blessed Virgin. Let the quotations from the Greek books in the notes to Dr. Newman's letter be carefully examined, and it will be seen that they fully sustain the common Catholic belief and practice. We have been ourselves fully acquainted with the doctrine and practice of the children of St. Alphonsus Liguori, who are considered as having carried devotion to the Blessed Virgin to the greatest extreme. We can, therefore, give our testimony that there is nothing in it which is not identical in principle with the prescribed devotions of the missal and breviary. The notion of there being a substitution of the Blessed Virgin for Christ, or an overshadowing of the supreme worship and love of God, anywhere in the Catholic Church, is a mere chimaera, a spectral illusion of an alarmed imagination. We know what St. Bernard, St. Alphonsus, and other approved writers have said. There is nothing there beyond the language of St. Ephrem, the fathers of Ephesus, the Greek liturgies, the _Salve Regina, Regina Coeli, Ave Domina_, and litany of Loretto.

The array of quotations which Dr. Pusey has made from Catholic writers will be found, on critical examination, to contain nothing formidable. One of the works from which he quotes, that of Oswald, was placed on the Index in 1855, and retracted by the author. Some of the other passages are from works of a highly imaginative character, and contain figurative or poetic expressions easily susceptible of an erroneous sense when read by persons not intimately acquainted with the Catholic religion. We think with Dr. Newman, with the late Archbishop Kenrick, and with many other wise and holy men, that it is very ill-judged to adopt such phraseology when it is sure to beget bewilderment and misunderstanding. We have more need to teach the solid dogmas of faith than to propagate pious opinions, and cultivate exotic, hot-house flowers of piety. Dr. Newman has done more to establish a solid devotion to the Blessed Virgin, by his brief theological essay, than all the fanciful and rhetorical rhapsodies ever penned. We can forgave Dr. Pusey for getting bewildered in perusing such a quantity of poetry, accustomed as he is to Hebrew and other dry studies; but we regret that he has displayed such an assortment of obscure and dark sayings to bewilder others. We acquit him cheerfully of all blame for it, but we nevertheless cannot help giving our deliberate judgment that he has put forth one of the most mischievous books, to ordinary and imperfectly informed minds, that has ever proceeded from the English press. We cannot by any means recommend it to general perusal, but those who do read it will do well to take its statements, on many points, with great caution. We will conclude our remarks upon it with noting some of its serious, albeit unintentional, misstatements:

1. The correspondence between Archbishop Wake and Du Pin was not a _bonâ fide_ negotiation between that prelate and orthodox Gallicans, but with Jansenists, in view of a coalition against the Roman Church.

2. There is no proof of any ratification ever having been made by Rome of any ordinations according to the Anglican ordinal.

3. It is a mistake to say that extreme unction is given only to those whose life is despaired of. It may be given {287} in all cases where a probable danger of death is feared.

4. It is not admitted by Catholic writers that Russia was converted by missionaries separated from the communion of the Roman Church.

5. It is a mistake to suppose that the prelates of the United States gave no response to the Holy See respecting the definition of the immaculate conception. The question was discussed in a full council, and the judgment of' the prelates was transmitted to Rome in favor of the definition. The Blessed Virgin, under the title of the Immaculate Conception, was proclaimed, by a decree of the prelates, the patroness of the Church of the United States, and the Sunday within the octave of the feast has been made one of the principal solemnities of the year.

Finally, a complete misconception of the whole question respecting Papal infallibility and its limits underlies and vitiates all the statements of the book on that subject. There is no dissension or doubt existing in the Catholic episcopate in regard to any definition of faith, or any doctrinal decisions whose acceptance is exacted by the Holy See under pain of censure. The Pope and the bishops, as the infallible _Ecclesia Docens_, are a unit. What one teaches and requires to be believed, all teach alike. The unity of faith in the episcopate was never so palpable a fact as it is at the present moment. So far as relates to disciplinary authority over doctrinal matters, the Roman Church is recognized in universal Catholic law as the court of ultimate appeal, and all questions respecting the interpretation of the definitions of the Council of Trent, which are the great standard of orthodoxy, were expressly reserved to it by the bull of confirmation, with the assent of the council itself, and by the decree _De Recipiendis_, etc. There is no possibility, therefore, of negotiating with the Catholic Church, or any portion of it, for reconciliation, except through the head of the church. The conditions of reconciliation are plain and distinct, and they will never be modified so far as relates to doctrine or essential discipline. Explanation, courtesy, benignant interpretation, full liberty in regard to mere theological opinions, will be cheerfully accorded; but no more.

It is vain to expect any propositions for reconciliation to come from the hierarchy of the Protestant Episcopal Church of England or America. We advise those who desire the reunion of Christendom to consider, carefully, the claims of the Roman Church, and if they are convinced of their validity to effect their own personal union with the mother and mistress of churches. If they are not, we do not wish them to come to us, either singly or in a body. Those who really become Catholics will desire to become members of the Catholic Church as she is, and not of a reformed body, conglomerated from the Catholic, Russian, and Anglican churches, and will not thank us to concede an iota of principle. Strict, dogmatic unity, and unconditional submission to the supreme authority of the See of Peter, is the only condition of union in ecclesiastical fellowship. The Greeks themselves have exacted that the question of dogma should be settled first, before any propositions of intercommunion with Anglicans can be entertained; so that the hope of obtaining recognition from them, with the question of dogma left open, has been overthrown. Our other Protestant brethren have embroiled themselves worse than ever over their projects for an anti-Catholic union of sects. There is not the faintest chance of any reunion of Christians except by a return to the centre of unity.

We are glad to see that Dr. Pusey has been passing some time with Catholic bishops in France, and that there is a probability of his going to Rome to confer with the Holy Father. We trust the learned and venerable doctor will do so, and that he will find his doubts and perplexities settled at the Seat of Truth, the chair of the Prince of the Apostles, whence all unity takes its rise.

NOTES ON DOCTRINAL AND SPIRITUAL SUBJECTS. By the late Frederick William Faber, D.D., etc. Vol. I. Mysteries and Festivals. London; Richardson & Son, 1866. New York: Lawrence Kehoe.

Father Faber was a man of cultivated mind, rich imagination, high poetic gifts, exuberant sensibility, and ardent devotion. His life was rich in good works and his death deeply regretted. In a literary point of view we consider his poetry as the best portion {288} of the products of his fertile mind and pen. His spiritual works, however, have attained a great popularity and a wide circulation, and no doubt have done and will do great good to that large class who love and require instructions deeply imbued with sentiment and emotion. The present volume consists of sketches of instructions never finished, and is intended as an aid in preparing sermons or conferences on spiritual subjects. We are glad to see that F. Faber's life is in preparation, and shall await its publication with interest. If well done, it cannot fail to be one of the most attractive of biographies. The life and writings of F. Faber are well suited to please and benefit a large class of Protestants as well as Catholics. We have heard not only Episcopalians and Unitarians speak in warm terms of the pleasure they take in his books, but even an aged and venerable Presbyterian clergyman recite his poetry with enthusiasm. We do not consider his works to be beyond criticism, and, for those who are able to bear it, we regard the more solid and plain food of F. Augustine Baker and Father Lallemant as more wholesome. But every one has his own proper gift, and that of Father Faber was evidently to make spiritual doctrine sweet and palatable to a vast number of persons who would not receive it except through the avenue of sensibility. His works are a wilderness of flowers and foliage; nevertheless they contain a doctrine which is substantially sound and useful, and their general aim and tendency is to establish solid, practical piety and virtue. The volume before us is replete with thoughts and conceptions redolent with all the peculiar vividness and brilliancy of the author's style, and exhibiting also extensive and profound knowledge of theology. We con recommend it to clergymen who wish for a treasury of choice materials wherewith to enrich and enliven their discourses, as a more complete and suggestive manual than any we have in the English language, and one which may be used to great advantage if used judiciously. It would be a very unsafe experiment, however, to attempt a close imitation of F. Faber's style, especially for young and inexperienced preachers, who might meet the fate of Icarus attempting to fly with waxen wings. We cannot, therefore, unreservedly recommend this volume as containing the best _models_ for imitation, but only in a qualified sense as extremely suggestive and quickening to thought and sentiment, and thus furnishing the materials and ornaments for discourses planned and constructed in a plainer and more sober style. We think it likely to become a great favorite with a large class of clergymen, especially those who are anxious to make their sermons as attractive as possible, and well fitted to be of great service to them in the way we have indicated.

THE GRAHAMES. By Mrs. Trafford Whitehead. American News Company. 1 volume 12mo, pp. 382.

This is a commonplace, _fashionable_ novel, written in an inflated style. Its sentiment is weak, its pathos twaddle, and its tone and morality low and reprehensible. We hope none of our young people will read it; but if they do that they will not imitate the heroine who finds it her _mission_ to stay in a gentleman's house, in the capacity of governess to a namby-pamby child, after she has discovered that the lady is cold as ice, and the gentleman, whose eyes she cannot understand, has _accidentally_ betrayed his penchant for herself.

The lady, as in duty bound, dies, and the governess, of course, marries the gentleman.

CHRISTUS JUDEX: A Traveller's Tale. By Edward Roth. 12mo, pp. 78. Philadelphia: F. Leypoldt. 1864.

This is a piece of composition full of beauty and marked by the most refined taste. There is a chaste elegance, too, about the typography and binding which is highly creditable to the publisher. It is just such a book as one wishes to find to present as a gift to a friend. We heartily recommend it to all our readers.

[Transcriber's note: This section was printed in small type; many words are merely guesses.]

BOOKS RECEIVED.

From D. Appleton & Co., New York: The Temporal Mission of the Holy Ghost; or Reason and Revelation, by Henry Edward, Archbishop of Westminster 12mo, pp. 274.

F. W. Christ???, New York: Victor Hugo's Les Travalileurs de las Mer. Edition special pour les Etats-Unis.

P. O'Shea, New York: Nos. 23, 24 and 25 of Darras' History of the Church.

Brophy & Burch, Washington, D.C: Argument in the Supreme Court of United States of America, by Alexander J. P. Careschi[?], in the case of the Rev. Mr. Cummings, plaintiff in error, vs. the state of Missouri, defendant in error.

{289}

THE CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. III., NO. 15.--JUNE, 1866.

[ORIGINAL]

PROBLEMS OF THE AGE.

III.

THE BELIEF IN GOD IS THE FIRST ARTICLE OF A RELIGIOUS CREED.

The first article of the Christian Creed is "Credo in Deum"--"I believe in God." The Christian child receives this originally by instruction before it attains the complete use of reason, and believes it by a natural faith in the word of those who teach it. Afterward it attains to a clearer and more distinct conception of its meaning and truth. This conception, however, is still furnished to it by Christian theology, and by theology itself is referred back to a revelation whose beginning is coeval with the human race. The fact just stated in regard to the belief of the Christian child is also true in regard to the belief of mankind universally. Wherever the idea of God, as exhibited by pure, theistic philosophy, is contained in the common belief of the people, it is held as a portion of some religious system purporting to be derived from revelation. It is learned from the instruction of religious teachers, and transmitted by a sacred tradition. We do not attain to the conception of God by the spontaneous, unaided evolution of it in our individual reason. Those nations which remain in the state of infancy, through a lack of the civilizing and instructing power, do not attain to that conception. The only way in which pure, theistic conceptions have ever been communicated to any considerable number of persons previously destitute of them, has been by the instruction of those who already possessed them.

This tradition goes back to the original creation of the race. Mankind was originally constituted by the Almighty in a state of civilized and enlightened society, fully furnished with that sacred treasure which tradition diffuses universally, and which constitutes {290} the inherited capital on which all the precious gain and increase in science, civilization, and every kind of intellectual and moral wealth, are based. It is in this way that the conception of God, which the founders of the human race received by immediate revelation, has been preserved and transmitted by universal tradition. In the pure and legitimate line of descent it has come down uncorrupted through the line of patriarchs and prophets to Jesus Christ, who has promulgated it anew in such a manner as to secure its inviolable preservation to the end of time. Indirectly, and subject to various changes and corruptions, it has descended through human language and law, through civilization and science, through Gentile literature and mythology, and through philosophy. Directly or indirectly, all the conceptions of mankind respecting God, whether perfect or imperfect, crude or mature, have been transmitted by tradition from the original and primitive revelation made to the founders of the race.

The universal utterance of mankind is, and always has been, "Credo in Deum." This is a common credence, possessed by the race from the beginning, which the individual mind receives and acquiesces in with more or less of intelligent belief and understanding, but never totally eradicates from among its conceptions. It is a credence perfectly enunciated in that divine revelation which the Christian church possesses in its integrity, and communicates in the most complete and explicit manner to all those who receive her instructions.

Here may easily arise a misunderstanding. Some one will say: "You appear to resolve all our knowledge of God into an act of faith in a revelation handed down from the past. But the very conception of revelation implies the previous conception of God, who makes the revelation. Faith in a revealed doctrine is based on the veracity of God, who reveals it. But in order that one may be able to make this act of faith, he must previously know that God is, and that he is veracious. Thus, we must believe that God is veracious because it is revealed, and believe this revealed doctrine that he is veracious because of his veracity. This is a vicious circle, and gives no basis whatever for rational belief."

This objection has really been anticipated and obviated in the preceding chapter. A full understanding of the answer to it will require a careful reading of the present chapter entire, and perhaps of the greater part of the succeeding ones. Just now, we simply reply to the objector that we do not, as he imagines, resolve the evidence of God's existence, and of other rational truths, into a tradition or revelation. We hold firmly that these truths are provable by reason. In speaking of revelation or tradition as our instructor in the doctrine of God, what is meant is this: The correct and complete formula, the divine word, or infallible speech, expressing in the sensible signs of human language the explicit conception of that divine idea which is constitutive of the soul's very rational existence,--this _formula_ has been handed down by tradition from the origin of the race. We do not propose this tradition as a mere exterior authority to which the mind must submit blindly, from which it must derive its rational activity, or in which it must locate its criterion of rational certitude. We admit the obligation of proving that this tradition is universal and divine. So far as the doctrines it proposes are within the sphere of reason, we hold that reason receives them because they are self-evident, or capable of being deduced from that which is self-evident. Thus, for instance, in proposing the veracity of God as the ground of faith in his revelation, it is proposed as a truth evident by the light of reason. Reason, however, is indebted to the instruction which comes by tradition for that clear and distinct statement of the being and attributes {291} of God, including his infinite and eternal veracity, which brings the mind to a reflective consciousness of its own primitive idea.

This may be illustrated by a comparison of the exterior word or revelation with that interior word or revelation which creates the soul and gives it the natural light of reason. The word of God spoken in the creative act creates the rational soul, and affirms to it his being and the existence of creatures, including that of the soul itself. This is a revelation. All natural knowledge is a revelation from God. Our belief in the reality of the outward world, and of our own existence, is resolved into a belief in the reality of the creative act of God, or of that spoken word by which he creates the world. We see no difficulty here, because we see that the word of God, in this case, enlightens the soul to see the truth of that which it declares to it. We need not find any more difficulty in the case of the exterior word. When this exterior, word declares plainly to an ignorant mind the nature and attributes of God, and the obligation of believing and obeying the truth revealed by him, this word also enlightens that mind to perceive the truth of what it declares. It illuminates the soul to see more distinctly the truths that are within the sphere of reason by direct, rational perception; and to see indirectly and indistinctly those truths which are above reason, in the self-evident truth of God's veracity, and in the analogies and correspondences which exist between these truths and those which are directly apprehended by reason.

This is anticipating what is to be treated of expressly hereafter. We trust it is now plain that we do not profess to derive the idea of God in the human race, and in each individual mind, from a mere outward tradition, or to prove its reality from a mere authoritative dictum of revelation. What we really intend to do is, to exhibit the conception of God contained in Christian theology, for the purpose of showing its objective truth and reality by a rational method. In the first place, we wish to bring out the conception itself as clearly as possible; to describe a circle in language vast and perfect enough to include all that is intelligible to human reason respecting God and his perfections. In the second place, to review the different methods of proving to reason the objective reality of this conception. And finally, to propose what we believe to be the best and most complete method of presenting to the reflective consciousness of the soul the certitude of its positive judgment, affirming the being of God. [Footnote 47]

[Footnote 47: In the actual treatment of the subject, this order has been changed for the sake of convenience.]

A great task, certainly! Some may regard it as on evidence of presumption to undertake it. Truly, if one should propose the conception of the being of the infinite God as a mere hypothesis; criticising and condemning the arguments of great men respecting it as illogical and unsuccessful attempts to prove it; professing to have discovered or invented some new process of demonstrating the problem, and thus pretend to make that certain which has hitherto been doubtful or probable, it would argue the height of arrogance and presumption. We do not, however, propose any such thing. The idea of God constitutes the very existence and life of the human soul. The conception of God, more or less perfectly explicated, is the possession of the human race universal, and in its completely explicated form it is the possession of the church universal of all ages. It is the treasure of universal theology and philosophy, handed down by an universal and inviolable tradition not of mere dead words and logical forms, but of the living thought and belief of all the sages and saints of the earth. The truth that {292} God is, and is infinitely perfect in his attributes, is the infallible and irreversible judgment of the reason of mankind, whether naturally or supernaturally enlightened. All that an individual can do is to attempt to gain a distinct apprehension and a correct verbal expression of the self-luminous idea which shines in all philosophy, but especially in Christian Catholic philosophy. It is a mistake, then, to consider an argument respecting the being of God as a mere logical process, conducting from some known premises to an unknown conclusion; a process in which any incorrectness in analysis or deduction vitiates the result and leaves the unsolved problem to the efforts of some new candidate for the honor of first discovering the solution. The reflex conceptions of that infallible affirmation of God to the soul which constitutes its rational existence must be substantially correct. This is especially the case where revelation furnishes a perfect and infallible outward expression of that inward conception which the reflective reason is laboring to acquire. Therefore we consider that there is a real agreement among all theistic and Christian philosophers. All have true intellectual conceptions of the idea of God. Yet there may be some of these conceptions which, though true, are confused. Again, in the multiplied reflex action of the mind upon itself and its own judgments and conceptions, there may be some imperfections in the analysis or critical examination of the component parts of the idea, in the synthesis or construction of these component parts into an ideal formula, and in the language by which verbal expression is given to the conceptions of the mind. What is to be aimed at is, to obtain intellectual conceptions which are clear and adequate to the idea, and a verbal expression which is also clear and adequate to the mental conception. In this direction lies the true path of progress in Christian philosophy. It is a continual effort to apprehend more clearly and adequately in the intelligence the conceptions given to our reflective reason by revelation, and to express these conceptions more clearly and intelligibly in language. Hence, so far as the doctrine of God is concerned, philosophy can only strive after formulas which express adequately the conception existing in every mind which has brought the idea of God into reflective consciousness. If this be true relatively to the common mind, it must be so much more relatively to the instructed philosophic mind of the world, especially the instructed theological mind of the church, where philosophy and theology are developed in a scientific form. The individual may reflect on that part of theology which his own intelligence has appropriated and assimilated to itself, and may possibly advance science by his reflections. But he cannot possibly cut himself off from the intellectual tradition and the continuity of intellectual life by which his reason lives and acts, without perpetrating intellectual suicide. We despise and reject, therefore, all philosophy or theology which severs itself from the great vital current and pulsation of traditional wisdom and science. We despise also that which merely repeats what it has learned, unless it has first made an intelligent judgment that this is, in regard to whatever matter is under discussion, the ultimatum that human reason can attain. One may do some good by repeating and explaining to others what are, for him, the last and most perfect words of wisdom which he has found in studying the works of the great and wise teachers of men. This gives him no claim to be honored as an original thinker or writer. He diffuses but he does not advance science. It is better to do this than to fall into error and folly, or at least to waste time and paper, by vainly striving after originality for its own sake, or from a silly motive of {293} vain-glory. Or one may really advance science by original and valuable thoughts which are an elaboration of the truth that has hitherto remained in a crude form; by a better analysis or synthesis of common, universal conceptions; if nothing more, at least by a better verbal expression and a more distinct and intelligible method of exposition. For ourselves, we are satisfied to explain and diffuse that wisdom which we have found in the writings of the greatest and most profound thinkers, especially those who have created or embellished Catholic theology. We strike out no new and unknown path. We do not pretend even to push forward into any unexplored region in the old one. All that is in this treatise may probably be found elsewhere, and by many will be recognized as already familiar to them. Although we do not choose to burden our pages with citations and references, the reader may rely on it that in the main we follow the common current of Catholic theology. If we sometimes deviate from it, we are still, in most instances, following the steps of some one or more of the giant pioneers who have gone on before, leaving a broad trail to direct the weaker traveller in the path of science.

What has just been said is applicable to every subject treated in these essays. In relation to the special subject now under consideration, we are very anxious not to seem captious or rash in criticising the common methods of argument employed by theologians. We recognize the substantial solidity of the doctrine of God contained in the best philosophers of all ages, so far as it agrees with revelation; and the perfect soundness and completeness of the doctrine as taught by Christian theologians. It is only the form and method that we intend to criticise, so far as theological doctrine is concerned; and, so far as relates to the purely human and rational element of philosophy, only that which is peculiar to individuals, schools, or periods, and not that which is common and universal. Let us remember that we are not reasoning as sceptics, and, beginning from a principle of philosophic doubt, ignoring all knowledge and belief, and striving to work our way upward to something positive and certain. Whether we are positively Christian in our belief or not, we are taking the viewing-point of Christian faith, and making a survey of the prospect visible to the eye from that point. It presents to us the completely developed idea of God as always known and always believed with certitude. What we are to do, then, is to find the most adequate expression of that which faith has believed and reason been able to understand during all time respecting God. We stand not alone, in the ignorance of our isolated, individual minds, to create by a slow and laborious task the truth and the belief of which our souls feel the need. We stand in union with the human race, always in possession of at least the elements of truth. We stand in union with that favored portion of the human race which has always clearly and distinctly believed in the absolute truth of the being and infinite perfection of God, and in a distinct revelation from him. We are about to examine this universal belief, and these intelligent judgments of cultivated universal human reason, and to compare them with the principles and judgments of our own reason. To ascertain what Christian Catholic faith is, and how it is radicated in an intelligent indubitable certitude of reason--this is what we are about to attempt; and the first part of our task is to examine the Christian conception of God, as expressed in theistic philosophy and Catholic theology. We intend to prove that it is the original, permits have, constitutive idea of human reason, brought, into distinct, reflective consciousness; made intelligible to the understanding, so far as it is not immediately intelligible in itself, by analogy; and correctly expressed by the sensible signs of language.

{294}

IV.

DIFFERENT METHODS OF PROVING THE BEING OF GOD.

It is evident that we have no direct intellectual vision or beholding of God. The goal is separated from him by an infinite and impassable abyss. We cannot now take into account the person of Jesus Christ, or of any who have been elevated to an intellectual condition different from that which is proper to our present state on earth. Apart from such exceptions, the soul even of the highest contemplative never directly beholds God himself. In the words of St. Augustine; _"Videri autem divinitas humano visu nullo modo potest; sed eo visu videtur, quo jam qui vident, non homines sed ultra homines sunt."_ "The divinity can in no way be seen by human vision: but it is seen by a vision of such a kind that they who see by it are not men, but are more than men." [Footnote 48] Neither have we the power to comprehend the intrinsic necessity of God's being and the intimate reason and nature of his self-existence. If we had a natural power of seeing God immediately, we would be naturally beatified, and all error or sin would be impossible. Moreover, we have not even a formed and developed conception of God innate to our reason, such as that which the instructed and educated reason can acquire. For, if we had, it would be in all minds alike without exception; everywhere and under all circumstances the same, without any need of previous reflection or instruction. What, then, is the genesis of our rational conception and belief of the divine being and attributes? How is it evident that God really is?

[Footnote 48: De Trin. lib. ii. c. ii.]

The arguments employed by philosophers are usually divided into two classes, those called _à priori_, and those called _à posteriori_.

An argument _à priori_ is one which deduces a truth from another truth of a prior and more universal order. Therefore, to prove the being of God _à priori_ we must go back to a truth either really and in itself antecedent to his being, or antecedent in the primitive idea of reason. That is to say, there must be an ideal world of truth logically antecedent to God, and independent of him; an eternal nature of things which is in itself necessary, and intelligible to our reason, before it has any idea of God. Or else, the primitive, constitutive idea of our reason must be an idea of some abstract being of this nature which is not God, and which in the real order is not antecedent to God, but only antecedent to him in the order of human thought and knowledge. If the first is true, God is not the first cause, the first principle, the infinite and eternal truth in himself, the absolute essence, and the immediate object of his own intelligence. The very conception of God which is sought to be proved is destroyed and rendered unintelligible. This will appear more clearly when we come to develop more fully hereafter the idea of God and his attributes. In the order of real being there is and can be nothing before God. There is no cause, no principle, no truth, no intelligible idea more universal than God, and prior to him, from which his being can be deduced as a consequence. In this sense, then, an _à priori_ argument for the being of God is impossible.

If the second alternative is true, that we have a primitive idea of something in our minds which is before the idea of God, the order of ideas, of reason, of human thought, is not in harmony with the real order. We apprehend the unreal and not the real. We see things as they are not, and not as they are. The reason apprehends the abstract, ideal universe, the eternal nature of things, the world of necessary truth, as antecedent to God and independent of him, when it is not so. If this were so, we could never attain to the true idea of God as before all things and the principle of all. For reason most develop {295} according to its primary and constitutive idea and its necessary law of thought. If in this constitutive idea there is something before God from which, as a prior principle, a more universal truth, the being of God is deduced as a consequence and a secondary truth, we must always look at things in this way, and can never directly behold the real order of being as it is. Thus we can never attain the true idea of God while we apprehend any intelligible object of thought as prior to him who is really prior to all, and must be apprehended as prior or else falsely apprehended.

An _à priori_ argument in this sense is, therefore, as impossible as in the other.

Let us now examine more particularly some of the so-called _à priori_ arguments.

One is an argument from the conceptions, or, as they are commonly called, the _ideas_, of space and time. It proceeds thus: We have an idea of infinite space, and of infinite time, as necessary in the eternal nature of things. Do what we will, we cannot banish these ideas, or avoid thinking of space and time as necessary and eternal. Therefore, there is an infinite, eternal being, of whose existence space and time are the necessary effects.

This argument dazzles the mind by a certain splendor and overwhelms it by a certain profundity and vastness of conception, but yet leaves it confused and overpowered rather than convinced. It will not bear analysis, as Leibnitz has successfully proved in his letters to Adam Clarke, who defended it with all the acuteness and ingenuity which his subtle and penetrating intellect could bring to bear on the question.

Nothing is, or can be, which is not either God or the creation of God. Space and time, therefore, are either attributes of God, or created entities, if they have any being or existence in themselves at all. They are either identical with the essence of God, or they are included within the creation and only coeval and co-extensive with it; that is, bounded by finite and precise limits of succession and extension. If the former, in perceiving them we perceive God directly. This is not affirmed by the argument, which asserts that they are effects of God's being and external to it. If the second, they are not infinite; the idea of their infinity and necessity is an illusion, and no argument can be derived from it. It is, beside, impossible to conceive of space and time as entities, or existing things, distinct and separate from other existences, and having certain defined limits. The language used by those who distinguish them both from God and creation, and call them necessary effects of the being of God, is simply unintelligible. Their conception of infinite space and time is, as Leibnitz calls it, a mere idol of the fancy, a phantasm representing nothing real. There is no intelligible conception of space and time as distinct both from God and creation. There is no such thing in the order of reality or of thought as a _necessary_ effect of God's being, or any effect except that produced by his free creative act. Into the idea of God nothing enters except God himself. Supposing that God exists alone without having created, when we think of God we think of all that can be thought as actual. His being fills up his own intelligence, of which it is the only and complete object. Into a true conception of that being our notions of space and time cannot enter. Nevertheless, in apprehending space and time there must be some real and intelligible idea which is apprehended. This idea is the possibility of creation, which in God is necessary and infinite. By his very essence, God has the power to create, and this power is unlimited. The idea of a created universe necessarily includes the idea of its existence in space and time. The possibility of space and time are, therefore, included in the possibility of creation, and as no limits can be placed to {296} the one, so none can be placed to the other. Our apprehension of infinite space and time is an apprehension of the infinite possibility of creation in God. We apprehend God under the intuition of the infinite, the necessary, and the eternal. This intuition of the infinite enters into all our thoughts. And therefore, however much we may extend our conception of actual duration or extension in regard to the created universe, we must always think the possibility of that duration and extension being increased even to infinity. Ideal space and time is that which we apprehend of real space and time, with the thought of their possible extension to infinity included. Real space and time are not entities distinct in themselves, but relations of succession and co-existence among created things. As in God alone, as distinct from creation, there is nothing intelligible but the divine being, so in the creation there is nothing intelligible but that which God has created. God and the existences which God has made are all that the mind can think. Take away God and finite, real things; nothing remains. Think of God as not creating, and God is the sole object of thought. Add to this the thought of God creating, and you have finite created entities. But you have nothing more; and if you fancy there is anything more, such as space and time in the abstract, you have a phantasm or idol of the imagination, which is nothing. Real space and time must be relations of existing things, and ideal space and time the possibility of relations among things which might be; or they are nothing. Destroy real entities, and you destroy all real relations. Deny the possibility of real entities, and you destroy all ideal relations. This answers the puzzling question sometimes asked, "Can God annihilate space?" He can annihilate real space by annihilating the real universe from which it is inseparable. He cannot annihilate ideal space, because it is in himself, as included in his eternal idea of the possible creation, or of his own infinite power to create. Our apprehensions of space and time are in the intelligible and not in the sensible world. The sensible form which they have results from the universal law that all intelligible conceptions come to us through the sensible, and represented to us through sensible signs. They must ultimately terminate in the idea of God as pure spirit, without extension or successive duration. When we think of extension in space we imagine a material figure, or an atmosphere whose circumference we extend further and further in all directions. When we think of duration in time, we think of a succession of material or intellectual actions, whose series we extend backward into the past or forward into the future. But, no matter how far we carry these processes, a definite and limited extension and duration is all that we reach. It is impossible that the idea of infinite space and duration should be actually realized in the order of finite and created things. The impossibility of placing any limit to them which shall be final must, therefore, be referred to an idea beyond all relations of space and time, and truly infinite, which we imperfectly apprehend by analogy through these relations. This is the idea of God as having an infinite power to create which is inexhaustible by any actual creation, however vast. Only in this way is the idea intelligible, and we must affirm God as real and infinite being before we can correctly apprehend it.

It may be said that this is what is really meant by the argument from space and time. We are willing to admit that it is what these eminent writers really had in their minds. But it appears to us that they have expressed it without sufficient clearness and precision, by reason of the confusion which prevails in modern philosophy, and that it is not really an _à priori_ argument, since it cannot be made {297} intelligible without affirming the idea of God as prior to all other ideas in the order of thought as well as in the order of being.

Another argument is derived from the possibility of conceiving that there is a being absolutely perfect. We can conceive that there is a being possessing all possible perfections. But actual existence is a perfection. Therefore if we conceive of a being possessing _all_ perfection, we must conceive of him as having actual existence.

This amounts merely to saying that actual existence enters into our conception of God. Where is the proof that that conception is not merely in our mind? Does the fact that we are able to form a conception of God prove that God really exists? Some will answer. Yes. Because it is absurd to suppose that the mind can form an idea greater than itself, and conceive of a possible order of being greater than the real order. It is, indeed, absurd; but the absurdity cannot be shown without at the same time showing the impossibility of finding any principle of reason prior to the idea of God. Is that which the reason perceives real being? Then the idea of the infinite is the affirmation of an infinite being. It is impossible to conceive of a possible being greater than the real being, because the real being is directly affirmed as infinite in the idea of reason. The very idea we are seeking to prove real presents itself as real to the reason before we can even begin the process of proving it. It is itself prior to every principle we are looking for as the most ultimate and the most universal. There cannot be found anything from which we can reason _à priori_ to that which is itself prior to all. We have began by affirming our conclusion as the basis of our proof. At the end of our argument we come back to our starting-point.

Is that which the reason perceives not real being? What, then, is it? It will be said that it is an a idea. If so, this _à priori_ argument proves only that the actual existence of God is conceivable, and that it cannot be proved that there is no God. It may even make his real existence appear to be probable, taken in connection with the other arguments usually employed. At best, however, it leaves the idea of God always under the form of an hypothesis, and affords no protection against the corruption of the idea by pantheistic and materialistic notions. Where is the passage from the abstract to the concrete, from the mental conception to the objective reality? If our conceptions of God lie in the order of an abstract world, and it is not the reality which is the ultimate object of reason, how can we ever obtain certitude that there is a real world corresponding to that abstract world which exists in our own mind? Such is the reasoning of modern materialism which is conducting vast numbers as near to absolute atheism as the mind by its own nature is able to go. For the class of men alluded to there are no realities except those of the sensible world. The spiritual world of dogmatic truth, religious obligation, and supernatural hopes, is ignored and neglected as merely abstract, hypothetical, and having at best but a dubious claim on our attention; one which may with safety and prudence be practically set aside for the more obvious claims of the present life. The entire falsity of this whole philosophy of the abstract, and the nullity of all abstractions considered as self-subsisting objects of thought, will be more directly shown hereafter. For the present we say no more on this head, but proceed to consider another form in which the argument from abstract, _à priori_ principles is presented.

We have an idea of the good, the beautiful, the true, as being necessary, universal, and eternal. Therefore there must be a being in whose mind these ideas exist, or of whom these qualities can be affirmed. This argument has been answered in answering {298} the foregoing one, with which it nearly coincides. Are these ideas abstract, independent of reality, antecedent to the idea of real, concrete being? Then they are forms of the mind, and leave it without a direct perception of the existence of a real, concrete being, infinitely good, beautiful, and true; or rather, the infinite goodness, beauty, and truth in himself. Are these ideas immediate affirmations of this real being? Then we have lost again our _a priori_ principle, by finding that the conclusion is actually prior to it. Either we affirm the intuition of the concrete, real object, from which the abstract conception of the good, the beautiful, and the true is derived, or we can prove only the existence of these conceptions in the mind, and cannot argue from the conceptions to the reality, or in any way perceive clearly the existence of the reality in an order external to our own mind.

Let us pass now to the argument called _à posteriori_. This is a method of reasoning exactly the reverse of the former; in which we proceed from effects to their causes, and from particulars to the universal. We endeavor to prove the existence of God from certain facts which cannot be accounted for unless they are regarded as effects of an absolute first cause.

We may consider this argument from two distinct points of view. First, we may take it as an effort to deduce the existence of God from a great number of facts, as the result of our knowledge of these particular facts; an effort to prove by experiment and observation an hypothesis which is proposed as a probable solution of the problem of the universe. We suppose that we begin without the idea of God. We acquire the knowledge of particular facts through sensation and reflection. By noting a great number of facts, and reflecting upon them, we ascend to general and abstract truths, and as a last result arrive at the conception of the being of God as the most universal truth, and the one which is the sum of all probabilities.

In the second place, we may take this argument as a method of manifesting the way in which the action of the first cause is shown forth in the universe. The idea of God is first affirmed, and the due explication of the facts of the universe is then demonstrated to be only an explication of the idea of God as first cause. The universe is shown to be intelligible in its cause, and apart from it to be unintelligible. Taken in this way the argument is identical with that which we are about to propose a little later.

Taken in the former sense, it is not a demonstration of the existence of God. Suppose that we can begin to reason without the idea of cause, and we can never establish its necessity by induction. Eliminate the idea of self-subsisting, necessary, eternal being, and suppose it unknown, unimagined; we can never rise above the particular, isolated sensations and perceptions of which we are conscious. If the facts which are called effects are intelligible in themselves, they imply no cause, and none can be proved from them. If they are not intelligible in themselves, they are from the first intelligible only in their cause, and the idea of cause is ultimate in the mind, antecedent to all knowledge of particulars, the first premised of every conclusion. It cannot then be proved as the conclusion of any syllogism; for all arguments start from it as the primitive idea and first principle of reason.

This method of argument belongs to that sceptical system of philosophy which came in vogue with the theology of Protestantism, and has been ever since working out its fatal results. It is the principle of disintegration, doubt, and denial, transferred from the domain of revealed dogma into the order of rational truths. Kant, the great master of this philosophy, and one of the principal chiefs of modern thought, carried out this philosophy to the denial of all possibility of science, and therefore of all {299} Scientific knowledge of God, immortality, and moral obligation. Having swept all natural and revealed truths out of the domain of _pure_ reason, he made a feeble attempt to establish their authority in the sphere of _practical_ reason. The individual man and the human race need the belief in God to keep them in the order required for their well-being. Therefore we may believe that there is a God. It is needless to say that these dictates of practical reason are not respected by those who carry out consistently and boldly the sceptical philosophy. The ravages made by the principle of scepticism among those who have cast off all traditional belief in Christianity are obvious to all eyes. But it is not so generally acknowledged that the same philosophy has had a wide and baneful influence over Christian theology. Some Christian writers would avowedly sweep away science to give place to faith, not reflecting that faith tumbles to the ground when its rational basis is removed. Others follow the method of a philosophy constructed upon that method, a method which is altogether unfit to be a medium of the rational explanation of Christian dogmas. Hence, there is a schism between theology and philosophy, leaving both these sciences in a mutilated condition. The manifest inadequacy of the common philosophical system brings it into contempt, and induces the effort to transfer the seat of all certitude and all true science to theology. Theology cannot make the first step without a basis of rational certitude for faith and for conclusions drawn from premises which are furnished by faith. Consequently her efforts to walk on air result to her discredit, and theology falls into contempt. This ends in adopting Kant's practical reason as the basis of religious belief. Philosophy and theology, as sciences of the highest order, are deserted. Religion is defended and explained on the ground of its probability and its utility. We cannot have science or make our belief intelligible. It is safe and prudent to follow on in the way the great majority of the wise and good have walked. Let us do so, and silence the questionings of the intellect. [Footnote 49] The language of scepticism! This is the mental disease of our day. Scepticism in regard to the doctrines of revelation; scepticism in regard to the dictates of reason! No doubt, if faith had full sway, and no false philosophy prevailed, theology would be sufficient by itself. For it contains in solution the true philosophy; and the simple, unsophisticated Christian intellect will take it up and absorb it naturally without needing to have it administered in a separate state. But where the mind has been sophisticated by false philosophy, it cannot take theology until the antidote of true philosophy has been given to it. Here is a lack in our English-speaking religious world. And this lack is, perhaps, the reason why some of the best writers speak so uncertainly of the rational basis of faith in revealed truths, and even in the truth of God's existence. While they affirm the certitude of their own inward belief, yet they acknowledge that they can only construct an argument which in philosophy is probable. That is to say, they have not a philosophy in which the ground of their inward certitude is expressed in a distinct formula, and by which they can make their readers conscious of a similar ground of certitude in themselves. They have no philosophy corresponding to their theology, and therefore, when they address the unbelieving or doubting world, they are at a loss for a bridge to span the chasm lying between it and themselves.

[Footnote 49: These remarks are not levelled against any approved system of Catholic philosophy, but only against those which are in vogue in the non-Catholic world, or among certain Catholic writers of a modern date.]

There is at present a laudable and {300} encouraging desire manifested by the leading thinkers and writers of different churches to bring out the great fundamental truth that God is the author of nature and revelation, in such a way as to stem the tide of scepticism. Guizot, who is among the most eminent, if not the very first, of the modern advocates of orthodox Protestantism, in the programme of a recent work in defence of revealed religion which he has published, expresses the opinion that the differences between his own co-religionists and Catholics are of minor importance compared to the great pending controversy with modern scepticism. This, with many other indications of a growing cordiality in earnest Protestants toward Catholics who are similarly earnest, makes us hope to receive from them as well as from the members of our own communion a respectful and candid hearing of what we have to say on this weighty subject.

And now, having done with the disagreeable task of criticism, we entreat of our readers, if they have found the preliminary treatment of the subject we are on abstruse and wearisome, to resume their courage and push on a little further up the ascent toward the summit of truth. The traveller, who struggles through thickets and over rocks toward the top of a mountain is well rewarded by the landscape which lies below and around him, lighted up by the radiance of the full orb of day. So, gentle reader, whether you are believer or sceptic, there is an eminence before us which we can attain, from which the fair landscape of natural and supernatural truth is visible as far as the outermost boundaries which fade away into the infinite. We wish to lead you to this eminence, and to show you this landscape lighted up with the radiance of the primal source of light, _the idea of God_, the self-luminous centre of the universe of thought. We wish to show you this idea of God in its absolute truth and certitude; clearly and distinctly visible in that horizon which is within the scope of the naked eye of reason, but whose boundaries are enlarged and its objects magnified by the aid of that gigantic telescope called faith.

{301}

From Once a Week

A MONTH IN KILKENNY.

BY W. P. LENNOX.

There is little to attract the attention of the traveller between Dublin and Kilkenny, except the fine range of mountains and the Curragh of Kildare. The Newmarket of Ireland is a vast, unbroken, bleak plain, consisting of 4,858 statute acres. It belongs to the crown, and is appropriate to racing and coursing, the adjacent proprietors having the privilege of grazing sheep thereon. The ranger of the Curragh is appointed by the government, and has the entire charge of this celebrated property. Of the race-meetings that take place on this spot it is needless to speak, as they are recorded in the newspapers of the day. Suffice it to say that the arrangements are well carried out, the prizes considerable, the number of horses that contend for them great, and the sport first-rate.

After changing trains at Kilkenny, I reached Parsonstown, where a carriage awaited me, to convey me to Woodstock, the hospitable seat of my brother-in-law, the Right Hon. William Tighe, and my sister, Lady Louisa Tighe.

Inistioge, anciently called Inis-teoc, is a charmingly situated small town overlooking the Nore, which is crossed by a picturesque bridge of ten arches, ornamented on one side with Ionic pilasters. The town is built in the form of a square, which being planted with lime-trees gives it the appearance of a foreign town. In the centre of the square is a small plain pillar, based on a pedestal of stone. This was the shaft of an ancient stone cross, and bears an inscription to the memory of David, Baron of Brownsfield, one of the Fitzgerald family, who died in 1621. The emerald green turf, and the foliage of the trees, in the square, give it a fresh appearance, and form an agreeable contrast to the surrounding stone buildings. Inistioge was once a royal borough, and famed for its religious establishments. It also possessed a large Augustinian monastery. All that now remains of it consists of two towers: one of them is incorporated with the parish church; the other is square at the base and octagonal in the upper stages. Of Woodstock itself, I will merely say that the house contains a valuable library, some good paintings; the gardens can find no equal in the United Kingdom; and the grounds, laid out with every diversity that wood and water can bestow, are perfectly beautiful. At the back rises a wooded hill, to the height of 900 feet, the summit crowned with an ornamental tower; and as the demesne stretches for a considerable distance along the Nore, there are some magnificent views of

"The stubborne Nenvre, whose waters grey, By fall Kilkenny and Rosseponte bend;"

which may be described in the words of the poet of the Thames--

"Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull: Strong without rage; without o'erflowing fail."

One of our first excursions was to Kilkenny, on our way to which city we stopped at Bennet's Bridge, to {302} witness the humors of a horse-fair. This small town is famed as having been the place where the Duke of Ormonde held a review in 1704, and which attracted such hosts of visitors that an inn-keeper is said to have made as much by his beds as paid his rent for seven years. I have attended many fairs in England, Scotland, Wales, France, Holland, Germany, and Canada, but never did I witness such an extraordinary sight as the one that presented itself at Bennet's Bridge. The hamlet itself, and its outskirts, were filled for more than a mile with horses, ponies, and vehicles, attended by a mass of people consisting of dealers, farmers, peasants, tramps, and beggars. There might be seen some "artful dodger" trying to palm off to one less experienced than himself a spicy-looking thorough-bred nag, whose legs showed evident marks of many a hard gallop, declaring that for speed the animal was unequalled, and that there was not a stone wall in the whole county that could stop him; there might be noticed a gallant colonel of hussars, attended by his "vet," selecting some clever three-year-olds, with which to recruit the ranks of her majesty's service. "Bedad, gineral," exclaims the vendor, "with such a regiment of horses you'd ride over the whole French cavalry, with Napoleon at the head of it." "A broth of a boy" may now be pointed out, charging a stone wall, with a raw-boned brute that never attempts to rise at it, and who, turning the animal round, and backing him strongly, makes an aperture, at the same moment singing a snatch of an Irish song, most appropriate for the occasion--"Brave Oliver Cromwell, he did them so pommel, that he made a breach in her battlements." Next, a ragged urchin, without shoes and stockings, with what might be termed "the original shocking bad hat" and which--on the principle of exchange no robbery--I was credibly informed he had taken from a field, set up to scare away the crows. Then there was the usual number of idlers and lookers-on, and an unusual amount of hallooing, shouting, screaming, and bellowing.

After devoting an hour to the humors of the fair, we proceeded to view the remains of the abbey of Jerpoint, which was founded in 1180, by Donogh, King of Ossory, for Cistercian monks. The monks, on the arrival of the English, had interest sufficient with King John to get a confirmation of all the lands bestowed on them by the King of Ossory; and Edward III., in the thirty-fourth year of his reign, at the instance of Phillip, then abbot, granted him a confirmation of former charters. Oliver Grace, the last abbot, surrendered this abbey on the 18th of March, the 31 Henry VIII. It then possessed about 1,500 acres of arable and pasture land, three rectories, the altarages and tithes of thirteen other parishes; all these were granted in the reign of Philip and Mary to James, Earl of Ormonde, and his heirs male, to hold _in capite_, at the yearly rent of £49 3s. 9d. It is an interesting ruin, and well worthy the attention of the antiquarian. From Jerpoint we proceeded to Kilkenny Castle, the home of the Ormondes.

Richard Strongbow, by his marriage with Eva, daughter of Dermot, King of Leinster, came into possession of a great part of the province of Leinster. Henry II. confirmed his right, with the reservation of the maritime ports. On being appointed Lord Justice of Ireland in 1173, he laid the foundation of a castle in Kilkenny, but it was scarcely finished when it was demolished by the insurgent Irish. However, William, Earl Marshal, descended from Strongbow, and also Lord Justice, in 1195 began a noble pile on a more extensive scale, and on the ancient site. A great part of this fine castle has survived the convulsions of this distracted kingdom, and continues at this day a conspicuous ornament of {303} the city of Kilkenny. A rising ground was chosen, which on one side has a steep and abrupt descent to the river Nore, which effectually protects it on that quarter by its rapid stream; the other sides were secured by ramparts, walls, and towers, and the entrance is through a lofty gate of marble of the Corinthian order. Hugh Le DeSpenser, who obtained the castle by marriage, in September, 1391, conveyed it and its dependencies to James, Earl of Ormonde. In later days, the castle has been much improved; the tapestry which adorns the walls of the entrance-hall and staircase exhibits the history of Decius; it is admirably executed, and the colors are fresh and lively. The ballroom, which is of great length, contains a fine collection of portraits, landscapes, and battle-pieces.

From the castle we visited the cathedral church of St. Canice, which is the largest church in Ireland, with the exception of St. Patrick's and Christ church, Dublin. There are a centre and two lateral aisles. The roof of the nave is supported by five pillars, and a pilaster of black marble on each side, upon which are formed five arches. Each lateral aisle is lighted by four windows below, and the central aisle by five above; they are in the shape of quatrefoils. The origin of this beautiful structure is uncertain, but it is conjectured that it was begun in 1180, when a small church was erected near the round tower.

"Hugh Rufus laid the foundation of a noble edifice," say the old writers, "and Bishop Mapilton, in 1233, and St. Leger, who succeeded him, completed the fabric." In describing the church of St. Canice, I cannot refrain from alluding to the extreme politeness of Father Kavanagh, a Roman Catholic priest, who devoted his time to my party and myself in pointing out the beauties of this venerable pile.

The Black Abbey was founded by William, Earl Marshal, about 1225, for Dominican friars. The founder was interred here in 1231, and three years after his brother Richard, who was slain in a battle with the O'Mores and O'Conors on the Curragh of Kildare. Henry VIII. granted this monastery to the burgesses and commonalty of the city of Kilkenny. In the time of the elder James it served for a shire-house, and in 1643 it was repaired, and a chapter of the order held in it. Its towers are light and elegant, and some of the windows are most artistically executed.

St. Mary's church contains some very interesting monuments, among them one in memory of Sir Richard Shee, dated 1608, with its ten sculptured figures at the base. There is one also to his brother, Elias Shee, of whom Holinshed wrote that he was "a pleasant-conceited companion, full of mirth without gall." On an unpretending tablet of black and white marble appears the following inscription:

"FREDERICK GEORGE HOWARD, SECOND SON OF THE EARL OF CARLISLE CAPTAIN OF THE 90TH REGIMENT DIED A.D. 1833, AET. 28.

"Within this hallowed aisle, mid grief sincere, Friends, comrades, brothers late young Howard's bier; Gentle and brave, his country's arms he bore To Ganges' stream and Ava's hostile shore: His God through war and shipwreck was his shield, But stretched him lifeless on the peaceful field. Thine are the times and ways, all-ruling Lord! Thy will be done, acknowledged, and adored!"

The above lines are from the pen of the late Earl of Carlisle, who never went near Kilkenny without paying a visit to the tomb of his brother. Poor Howard was killed by leaping out of a curricle, which was run away with between the barracks at Kilkenny and Newtownbarry, where his regiment was quartered. Another monument attracted my attention; it bore an inscription to the memory of Major-General Sir Denis Pack, recording the military career of this distinguished soldier. I knew the deceased officer well during the Belgian {304} campaign, and a thousand recollections sprang up in my mind when I saw the bust, by Chantrey, of as brave a man as ever served in the British army. But to return.

Although the salmon fishing in Ireland has in many rivers sadly degenerated within a few years, there is still excellent sport to be had in many of the rivers and lakes. The Nore, which flows through the county of Kilkenny, would be a first-rate river for salmon and trout were it not for the number of weirs and the illegal destruction of the fish by cross-lines and nets. At Mount Juliet, the romantic seat of Lord Carrick, and Narlands, the river is partially preserved; and here, as at Dunmore, the property of Lord Ormonde, the angling is excellent. The general run of salmon flies suits the Nore; they should be tied with dobbing of pig's wool, and a good deal of peacock in the wing. For trout, the ordinary run of flies will be found to answer well.

Among other fishing localities in Ireland may be mentioned Lough Ree, a fine sheet of water about twenty miles in extent, studded with numerous islands, around the shores of which, and on the shoals, trout abound. The lake of Allua, about ten miles above Macroom, in the county of Cork, was once famous for trout and salmon, which have of late years diminished considerably, in consequence of the introduction of pike, the tyrant of the waters. The lakes of Carvagh, in Kerry, of Inchiquin, of Currana (near Derrynane), Lough Kittane (four miles from Killarney), Lough Brin (in Kerry), Lough Atedaun, Lough Gill (in Sligo), and Lough Erne, are well supplied with trout and salmon; while the far-famed lakes of Killarney will furnish sport to those who seek pastime, in addition to the enjoyment of witnessing the most beautiful and romantic scenery that is to be found in the Emerald Isle. The rivers, too, abound in fish. Among the best are the Liffey, Laune, Tolka, Bann, Blackwater (in Cork), Suir, Annar, Nire (a mountain stream rising in the Waterford mountains), Shannon, Lee, and Killaloe (remarkable for its eels, as also for the gastronomic skill of the inhabitants in dressing them).

I must now turn from the "gentle crafte" to otter-hunting, a sport still carried on with spirit in Ould Ireland. The mephitic nature of the otter renders him an easy prey to his pursuers, and his scent is so strong that a good hound will at once challenge it. The lodging of this subtle plunderer is called his _kennel_, or _couch_, and his occasional lodgments and passages to and fro are called his _halts_. So clever is he as an architect that he constructs his _couches_ at different heights, so that, let the water rise or fall, he has a dry tenement. Spring is the best season for otter-hunting, but it is carried on during the summer in the Emerald Isle; and a day with the amphibious tyrant of the finny tribe in the river Nore, which I enjoyed last September, may not be uninteresting.

At about eleven o'clock on a bright sunny day, with a refreshing breeze blowing on us from the south-east, we met at Coolmore, the seat of Mr. P. Connellan. The harriers--belonging to my host, and consisting of about six couple of handsome, well-sized hounds, about seventeen inches high--met in a field close to the house, attended by a whipper-in, admirably mounted. The pack seemed to possess all the qualifications of good harriers--fine heads, ear-flaps thin, nostrils open, chests deep, embraced by shoulders broad but light, and wen thrown back; the fore-legs straight, clean, bony, terminated by round, ball-like feet, the hind-legs being angular, and the thighs powerful. The beauty of the day had attracted a large party of both sexes from the neighborhood, some of whom, and one young lady in particular, managed a cot so ably, that she drew forth the following complement {305} from one of the bold peasantry: "Bedad, miss, you'd do honor to Cleopatra's galley." The principal part of the sportsmen and sports-women were on foot, although a few were mounted, and among the fair equestrians was a young lady whose seat and hand were perfect, and who evidently wished to emulate the prowess of the Thracian huntress. This modern Harpalyce, combining courage with feminine deportment, was prepared to fly like the wind across the country, had an occasion presented itself by the accidental discovery of a fleet hare. Arrived at the river's side, two Saxons with loaded guns kept a good lookout for the lurking prey, while the hounds swam across to a small island, where an otter had been tracked by his _seal_ Shortly a hound was heard to challenge, but on the approach of the pack the "goose-footed prowler," having been hunted before, left his couch, and diving under the water made head up the stream. Now every eye on shore is intent on watching his _ventings_; his muzzle appears above the surface for a second; again it disappears; and he can be tracked alone by the bubbles of air he throws out. The sport is now exciting. One of the police, armed with a primitive spear, which he had taken from a river poacher, consisting of a three-pronged fork fixed into the end of a long pole, is ready to hurl the weapon which has proved so fatal to many a salmon, should the otter appear in view, while the staunch hounds are close on the scent. "Have a care there," cries a keen sportsman to the preserver of the peace. "Don't strike too quickly, or bedad you may transfix a hound instead of the marauding animal." But he is not doomed to die so inglorious a death as that caused by a rusty fork, for before the crude spear is hurled the hounds have seized him, and, after a desperate struggle, in which many of the gallant pack were bitten, shake the life out of the captured prey. While enjoying the sport of the morning, my attention was attracted to a young lady on the opposite bank of the river, who, wising to join our party, entered a small cot, and gallantly paddled herself across the fast-flowing stream. So admirably did this "guardian Naiad of the strand" guide her fragile bark, that I could not fail to congratulate her upon her prowess. My compliments, however, fell very short of one uttered by a ragged boatman, who exclaimed:

"Ay, and sure, miss, you must be one of the queen's company. Bedad, miss, you are worthy of taking a cot into the Meditherranean."

While upon the clever sayings of the Irish, I must give an anecdote which was told me by Sir John Power, of Kilfane, than whom a finer sportsman or more hospitable man never existed. It seems that the complaints made against the vulpine race by owners of poultry are not confined to England, and upon one occasion a genuine Irishman, "Pat Driscoll by name," claimed compensation for damage done to a turkey and duck. This was awarded to him, when a week afterward he waited upon the owner of Kilfane, and asked him for compensation for "a beautiful cow killed by that nasty varmen, a fox." "A fox kill a cow!" said Sir John; "impossible!" "Fait and sure he did," continued Pat. "I'll tell you how it was. My cow was feeding in the meadow close to my garden, and was eating a turnip, when up jumped a baste of a fox, and frightened her so much that bedad the poor creature choked herself." The good-humored baronet could not fail to be amused at Driscoll's ready wit, but declined paying for the loss of the animal, upon which Pat, not at all taken aback, remarked, "Well, Sir John, it's rather hard upon me; but in future, instead of advertising your meets at Kilfane or Thomastown, perhaps you will name _Kilmacoy_" (pronounced "Kilmycow") "as more appropriate to case."

{306}

Chapters could be filled with Irish sayings, but space prevents my giving more than one, which was told to me by a friend in whose veracity I have perfect confidence. An English gentleman dining in the house of an Irish lady, was greatly surprised at hearing the Butler ask, "please, ma'am, will I strip?" "Yes", was the reply; "all the company arrived." Turning to a neighbor, he inquired the meaning of the expression, when he found it applied to taking the covers off the dishes, and was quite foreign to the usual acceptation of the word "strip."

[ORIGINAL.]

BANNED AND BLESSED.

"And the Lord God formed man of the slime of the earth; . . . . Cursed is the earth in thy work.

"And the word was made flesh and dwelt among us."

Bud out, glad earth, in beauty, Ring out, glad earth, in song; The funeral pall is lifted That covered thee so long: The heavy curse laid on thee For Eden's primal wrong.

Long ages gone, the angels Hailed thee with pure delight. The blooming of thy day-time. The radiance of thy night; And e'en thy Maker named thee As pleasant in his sight--

Soon lost that early joyance, Brief worn that birth-day crown! The very stars of heaven Look sorrowfully down On fairest flowers withered Beneath man's sinful frown.

Blinded, and banned, and broken, Along thy penance-path. Thy vesture streamèd over With the torrents of man's wrath; Thou treadest through the ether A thing of shame and scath. {307} Lift up thy head, poor mourner, Shake the ashes from thy brow; Lay off thine age-worn sackcloth And wear the purple now: Amid the starry brethren, Who honor hath, as thou?

The dust from off thy bosom The Maker deigns to wear; "The word made flesh," in heaven, Hath given thee such share No grandeur of thy brethren With it can hold compare.

Blest art thou that his footsteps Along thy pathways trod; Blest art thou that his pillow Has been thy grassy sod; And blest the burial shelter Thou gavest to thy God.

And for that little service, Divine the meed shall be: When "fervent heat" hath melted The starry choirs and thee, The moulded dust of Eden Shall live eternally.

"The first-born of all creatures" Doth wear it on his throne, The vesture of humanity By which he claims his own. How infinite the pardon That doth thy penance crown!

GENEVIEVÉ SALES. March 22, 1806

{308}

Translated from French.

L'ABBÉ GERBET. [Footnote 50]

BY C. A. SAINTE-BEUVE.

[Footnote 50: "Considérations sur le Dogme Générateur de la Piété Cathiolique." 4e édition, chez Vaton. 1859]

For a long time I have been reserving this subject for some feast-day, for Corpus Christi or some festival of Mary, feeling that holiness belongs to it; unction, grace mingled with science, and a reverential smile. "But why," some of our readers will say,--"why does l'Abbé Gerbet's name imply all this?" I shall try to show them the reason and give some idea of one of the most learned, distinguished, and truly amiable men that the church of France possesses, as well as one of our best writers; and, without embarking on vexed or doubtful questions, to delineate for them in soft tints the personality of the man and his talent.

But in the first place, that I may connect with its true date this modest name, which has rather courted oblivion than notoriety, let me remind my readers that during the Restoration, about the year 1820, when that regime, at first so unsettled, was beginning to enter into complete possession of its powers, a movement arose on all sides among the youthful spirits, ardently impelling them to literary culture and philosophical ideas. In poetry Lamartine had given the signal of revival, others gave it in history, others again in philosophy; and among the young people there sprang up a universal spirit of emulation, a unanimous determination to begin anew. It seemed as if, like a fertile land, the French mind, after its compulsory rest of so many years, were eagerly demanding every kind of cultivation. Yes, in religion then, in theology, it was the same; a generation had sprung up full of zeal and animation, who tried, not to renew what is in its nature immutable, but to rejuvenate the forms of teaching and demonstration, adapt them to the mental condition of the times, and make the principle of Catholicity respected even by its opponents. For, in the words of one of these young Levites in the beginning of the movement, "to act upon the age, we must understand it."

I could cite the names of several men who, with shades of difference known in the ecclesiastical world, had this in common, that they stood at the head of the studious and intelligent young clergy: M. Gousset, now cardinal archbishop of Rheims, and standing in the first rank of theologians; Mgr. Affré, who met his death so gloriously as archbishop of Paris; M. Douey, the present bishop of Montauban; and M. de Salinis, bishop of Amiens. But at that time, between the years 1820 and 1822, one name alone among the clergy offered itself to men of the world as a candidate for widespread fame. M. de Lamennais in his first Catholic fame had enforced the attention of all by his "Essay on Indifference," stirring a thousand thoughts even in the minds of the astonished clergy.

And here for the first time we meet l'Abbé Gerbet. He was born in 1798 {309} at Poligny, in the Jura. After completing his first studies in his native town, he passed through a course of philosophy in the academy of Besançon; and in obedience to an instinctive vocation, which awoke within him at the age of ten years, began his theological studies in the same city. During the dangers of invasion, in 1814-1815, he went into the mountains to visit a curate, a relation or friend of his family, and remained there to study. Thither came one day a young student of the Normal School, Jouffroy, two years his senior, who in going home to pass his vacation in the village of Pontets, had paused a moment on the way. Jouffroy, though in the first flush of youth and learning, and wearing the aureole upon his brow, did not disdain to enter into discussion with the young provincial seminarian. He combated the proofs of revelation, and especially contested the age of the world, relying upon the testimony of the famous Zodiac of Denderah, so often invoked in those days, and so soon destroyed. The young seminarian, in the presence of this unknown monument, could only answer: "Wait." These two young men never met again, compatriots though they were, and from that day forth adversaries; but l'Abbé Gerbet and Jouffroy, while carrying on a war, pen in hand, never failed to do so in the most dignified terms of controversy, and Jouffroy, whose heart was so good despite his dogmatic language, always spoke of l'Abbé Gerbet, if I remember rightly, with feelings of affectionate esteem.

On arriving in Paris at the close of the year 1818, l'Abbé Gerbet entered the seminary of Saint-Sulpice, but his health, which was already delicate, not allowing him to stay there long, he established himself as a boarder in the House of Foreign Missions, where he followed the rules of the seminarians. He was ordained priest in 1822 at the same time with l'Abbé do Salinis, whose inseparable friend he has always remained.

A little later he was appointed assistant professor of the Holy Scriptures in the Theological Faculty of Paris, and went to live in the Sorbonne. Having no lectures to deliver, he soon began to assist M. de Salinis, who had been made almoner in the college of Henry lV., and it was at this time that he first knew M. de Lamennais.

At twenty-four years of age, l'Abbé Gerbet had given evidence of remarkable philosophical and literary talent, and had sustained a Latin thesis with rare elegance in the Sorbonne. By nature he was endowed with all the gifts of oratory, a sense of rhythmic movement, measure, and choice of expression, and a graphic power which, in one word, must become a talent for writing. To these endowments he added an acute and elevated faculty for dialectics, fertile in distinctions, which he sometimes took delight in multiplying, but without ever losing himself among them. In the very beginning of his friendship with M. de Lamennais, he felt, without perhaps acknowledging it to himself, that that bold and vigorous genius, who was wont to open new views and perspectives, as it were by main force, needed the assistance of an auxiliary pen, more tempered, gentler and firm,--a talent that could use evidence judiciously, fill up spaces, cover weak points, and smooth away a look of menace and revolution from what was simply intended as a broader expression and more accessible development of Christianity. L'Abbé Gerbet clothed M. de Lamennais' system as far as possible with the character of persuasion and conciliation that belonged to it: to soften and graduate its tendencies was properly the part he filled at this time of his youth.

Upon this system I shall touch in a few words that will suffice to explain what I have to say of l'Abbé Gerbet's moral and literary gifts. Instead of seeking the evidences of Christianity in such and such texts of Scripture, or in a personal argument {310} addressed to individual reason, M. de Lamennais maintained that it should, in the first place, be sought in the universal tradition and historical testimony of peoples, for he believed that even before the coming of Jesus Christ and the establishment of Christianity a sort of testimony was to be traced, confused certainly, but real and concordant, running through the traditions of ancient races and discernible even in the presentiments of ancient sages. It seemed to him demonstrable that among all nations there had been ideas, more or less defined, of the creation of man, of the fall and promised reparation, of the expiation or expected redemption--in short, of all that should one day constitute the treasures of Christian doctrine, and was then only the scattered and persistent vestige of the primitive revelation. From this he argued that the lights of ancient sages might be considered as the dawn of faith, and that without, of course, being classed among the fathers of the primitive church, Confucius, Zoroaster, Pythagoras, Heraclitus, Socrates, and Plato should be considered up to a certain point as preparers for the gospel, and not be numbered among the accursed. They might almost be called, in the language of the ancient fathers, primitive Christians--at least they were like so many Magi travelling more or less directly toward the divine cradle. By this single view of an anterior Christianity disseminated through the world, by this voyage, as it were, in search of Catholic truths floating about the universe, the teaching of theology would have been wonderfully widened and enlarged, for it necessarily comprised the history of philosophical ideas. M. de Lamennais' system, which is especially attractive when developed historically by the pen of l'Abbé Gerbet, has not since then been recognized by the church. It appeared to be at least delusive, if not false; but perhaps, even from the point of view of orthodoxy, it can only merit the reproach of having claimed to be the sole method, to the exclusion of all others; combined with other proofs, and presented simply, as a powerful accessory consideration, I believe that it has never been rejected.

It may be understood, however, even without entering into the heart of the matter, that in 1824, when l'Abbé Gerbet, in concert with M. de Salinis, established a religious monthly magazine, entitled the "Catholic Memorial," and began to develop his ideas therein with modesty and moderation, but also with that fresh confidence and ardor that youth bestows, there was, to speak merely of the external form of the questions, a something about it that gave the signal for the struggle of a new spirit against the stationary or backward spirit. The old-fashioned theologians, whether formalist or rationalistic, who found themselves attacked, resisted and took scandal at the name of traditions which were not only Catholic but scholastic and classic. But in l'Abbé Gerbet they had to deal with a man thoroughly well read in the writings of the fathers, and possessed of their true significance. He could bring forward, in his turn, texts drawn from the fountain-head in support of this freer and more generous method; among other quotations, he liked to cite this fine passage from Vincent de Lérius: "Let posterity, thanks to your enlightenment, rejoice in the _conception_ of that to which antiquity gave respectful credence without understanding [its full meaning]; but remember to teach the same things that have been transmitted to you, so that, while presenting them in a new light, you do not invent new doctrines." Thus, while maintaining fundamental immutability, he took pleasure in remarking that, in spite of slight deviations, the order of scientific explanation has followed a law of progress in the church, and has been successively developed; a fact which he {311} demonstrated by the history of Christianity.

"The Catholic Memorial," in its very infancy, stirred the emulation of youthful writers in the philosophical camp. It was at first printed at Lachevardière's, where M. Pierre Leroux was proof-reader, and the latter, on seeing the success of a magazine devoted to grave subjects, concluded that a similar organ for the promotion of opinions shared by himself and his friends might be established with even better results. In that same year, 1824, "The Globe" began its career, and the two periodicals often engaged in polemic discussions, like adversaries who knew and respected each other while they clearly understood the point of controversy. For the benefit of the curious, I note an article of M. Gerbet's [Footnote 51] (signed X.) which represents many others, and is entitled "Concerning the Present State of Doctrines;"--the objections are especially addressed to MM. Damiron and Jouffroy. It was the heyday then of this war of ideas.

[Footnote 51: 1825. Vol. 4th, p. 188. ]

L'Abbé Gerbet's life has been quite simple and uniform, marked by only one considerable episode--his connection with l'Abbé de Lamennais, to whom he lent or rather gave himself for years with an affectionate devotion which had no term or limit except in the final revolt of that proud and immoderate spirit. After fulfilling all the duties of a religious friendship, after having waited and forborne and hoped, Gerbet withdrew in silence. For a long time he had been all that Nicole was to Arnauld--a moderator, softening asperities and averting shocks as far as possible. He never grew weary until there was no longer room for further effort, and then he returned completely to himself. These ultra and exclusive methods are unsuited to his nature, and he hastened to withdraw from them, and to forget what he would never have allowed to break out and reach such a pass if he had been acting alone. It needs but a word, but a breath, from the Vatican to dissipate all that seems cloudy or obscure in l'Abbé Gerbet's doctrines. His gentle clouds inclose no storm, and, in dispersing, they reveal a depth of serene sky, lightly veiled here and there, but pure and delicious.

I express the feeling that some of his writings leave upon the mind, and especially the work that has just been reprinted, of which I will say a few words. "Les Considérations sur le Dogme générateur de la Piété Catholique," that is to say, Thoughts upon Communion and the Eucharist, first appeared in 1829. It is, properly speaking, "neither a dogmatic treatise nor a book of devotion, but something intermediate." The author begins by an historical research into general ideas, universally diffused throughout antiquity--ideas of sacrifice and offering, as well as of the desire and necessity of communication with an ever-present God, which have served as a preparation and approach toward the mystery; but, mingled with historical digressions and delicate or profound doctrinal distinctions, we meet at every step sweet and beautiful words which come from the soul and are the effusion of a loving faith. I will quote a few, almost at hazard, without seeking their connection, for they give us an insight into the soul of l'Abbé Gerbet. As, for instance, concerning prayer:

"Prayer, in its fundamental essence, is but the sincere recognition of this continual need (of drawing new strength from the source of life) and an humble desire of constant assistance; it is the confession of an indigence full of hope."

"Wherever God places intelligences capable of serving him, there we find weakness, and there too hope."

And again:

"Christianity in its fulness is only a bountiful alms bestowed on abject poverty."

{312}

"Is there not something divine in every benefit?"

"Charity enters not into the heart of man without combat; for it meets an eternal adversary there--pride, the first-born of selfishness, and the father of hatred."

"The gospel has made, in the full force of the term, a revolution in the human soul, by changing the relative position of the two feelings that divide its sway: fear has yielded the empire of the heart to love."

L'Abbé Gerbet's book is full of golden words; but when we seek to detach and isolate them, we see how closely they are woven into the tissue.

The aim of the author is to prove that, from a Christian and Catholic point of view, communion, accepted in its fulness with entire faith, frequent communion reverently received, is the most certain, efficacious, and vivid means of charity. In speaking of the excellent book entitled "The Following of Christ," he says:

"The asceticism of the middle ages has left an inimitable monument, which Catholics, Protestants, and philosophers are agreed in admiring with the most beautiful admiration, that of the heart. It is wonderful, this little book of mysticism, upon which the genius of Leibnitz used to ponder, and which roused something like enthusiasm even in the frigid Fontenelle. No one ever read a page of the 'Following of Christ,' especially in time of trouble, without saying as he laid the book down: 'That has done me good.' Setting the Bible apart, this work is the sovereign friend of the soul. But whence did the poor solitary who wrote it draw this inexhaustible love? (for he spoke so effectively only because of his great love.) He himself tells us the source in every line of his chapters on the blessed sacrament: the fourth book explains the other three."

I could multiply quotations of this kind, if they were suited to these pages, and if it were not better to recommend the book for the solitary meditation of my readers; I would point out to be remembered among the most beautiful and consoling pages belonging to our language and religions literature, all the latter part of Chapter VIII. Nothing is wanting to make this exquisite little book of l'Abbé Gerbet's more generally appreciated than it now is but a less frequent combination of dialectics with the expression of affectionate devotion. Generally speaking, the tissue of l'Abbé Gerbet's style is too close; when he has a beautiful thing to say, he does not give it room enough. His talent is like a sacred wood, too thickly grown;--the temple, repository, and altar in its depths are surrounded on all sides, and we can reach them only by footpaths. I suppose that this is because he has always lived too near his own thoughts, never having had the opportunity to develop them in public. Feeble health, and a delicate voice which needs the ear of a friend, have never allowed this rich talent to unfold itself in teaching or in the pulpit. If at any time he had been induced to speak in public, he would have been obliged to clear up, disengage, and enlarge not his views, but the avenues that lead to them.

In 1838, being troubled with an affection of the throat, he went to Rome and, always intending to return home soon, remained there until 1848. It was there that in the leisure moments of a life of devotion and study, in which, too, the most elevated friendship had its share, he composed the first two volumes of the work entitled "A Sketch of Christian Rome," designed to impart to all elevated souls the feeling and idea of the Eternal City. "The fundamental thought in this book," he says, "is to concentrate the visible realities of Christian Rome into a conception and, as it were, a portrait of its spiritual essence. An excellent interpreter in the way he has chosen for himself, he goes on to speak of the monuments not with the dry science of a modern antiquary, {313} or with the _naïf_ enthusiasm of a believer of the middle ages, but with a reflective admiration which unites philosophy to piety.

"The study of Rome in Rome," he says again, "leads us to the living springs of Christianity. It refreshes all the good feelings of the heart, and, in this age of storms, sheds a wonderful serenity over the soul. We must not, of course, attach too much importance to the charm which we find in certain studies, for books written with pleasure to one's self run the risk of being written with less charity. But none the less should we thank the Divine Goodness when it harmonizes pleasure with duty."

In these volumes of l'Abbé Gerbet, introductions and dissertations upon Christian symbolism and church history lead to observations full of grace or grandeur, and to beautiful and touching pictures. The Catacombs, which were the cradle and the asylum of Christianity during the first three centuries, interested him especially, and inspired in him thoughts of rare elevation. Here are some verses (for l'Abbé Gerbet is a poet without pretending to be one) which give his first impressions of them, and show the quality of his soul. The piece is called "The Song of the Catacombs," and is intended to be sung. [Footnote 52]

[Footnote 52: We translate "Le Chant des Catacombes" into prose, that the noble ideas may be given with literal accuracy. The author intended it to be sung to the air of "Le Fil de La Vierge" (Scudo). We give one verse of the original:

"Hier j'ai visité les grandes Catacombes Des temps anciens; J'ai touché de mon front les immortelles tombes Des vieux Chrétiens: Et ni l'astre du jour, ni les célestes sphères, Lettres du feu, Ne m'avaient mieux fait lire en profonds caractères Lo nom de Dieu."]

"Yesterday I visited the great Catacombs of ancient times. I touched with my brow the immortal tombs of early Christians, and never did the star of day, nor the celestial spheres with their letters of fire, teach me more clearly to read in profound characters the name of God.

"A black-frocked hermit, with blanched hair, walked on in front-- old door-keeper of time, old porter of life and death; and we questioned him about these holy relics of the great fight, as one listens to a veteran's tales of ancient exploits.

"A rock served as portico to the funeral vault; and on its fronton some martyr artist, whose name is known, no doubt, to the angels, had painted the face of Christ, with the fair hair, and the great eyes whence streams a ray of deep gentleness like the heavens.

"Further on, I kissed many a symbol of holy parting upon the tombs. And the palm, and the lighthouse, and the bird flying to God's bosom; and Jonas, leaving the whale after three days, with songs, as we leave this world after three days of trouble called time.

"Here it was that each one, standing beside his ready-made grave, like a living spectre, wrestled the fight out, or laid his head down in expectation! Here, that they might prepare a strong heart beforehand for the great day of suffering, they tried their graves, and tasted the first-fruits of death!

"I sounded with a glance their sacred dust, and felt that the soul had left a breath of life lingering in these ashes; and that in this human sand, which weighs so lightly in our hands, lie, awaiting the great day, germs of the almost god-like forms of eternity.

"Sacred places, where love knew how to suffer purely for the soul's good! In questioning you, I felt that its flame could never perish; for to each being of a day who died to defend the truth, the Being eternal and true, as the price of time, has given eternity.

"Here at each step we behold, as it were, a golden throne, and while treading on tombs we seem to be on Mount Tabor. Go down, go down into the deep Catacombs, into their lowest recesses--go down, and your {314} heart shall rise and, looking up from these graves, see heaven!"

Beside these verses, which are not found in the volumes of "Christian Rome," and are only a first utterance, should be placed, as an original picture full of meaning, his words concerning the slow and gradual destruction of the human body in the Catacombs. We all know Bossuet's _mot_ (after Tertullian) in speaking of a human corpse: "It becomes a something unutterable," he exclaims, "which has no name in any language." The following admirable page from l'Abbé Gerbet's book is, as it were, a development and commentary of Bossuet's words. At this first station of the Catacombs he confines himself to the study of the nothingness of life: "the work I do not say of death, but of what comes after death;" the idea of awakening and of future life follows later. Listen:

"In your progress you review the various phases of destruction, as one observes the development of vegetation in a botanic garden from the imperceptible flower to large trees, rich with sap and crowned with great blossoms. In a number of sepulchral niches that have been opened at different periods one can follow, in a manner, step by step, the successive forms, further and further removed from life, through which _what is there_ passes before it approaches as closely as possible to pure nothingness. Look, first, at this skeleton; if it be well preserved in spite of centuries, it is probably because the niche where it lies was hollowed out of damp earth. Humidity, which dissolves all other things, hardens these bones by covering them with a crust which gives them more consistency than they had when they were members of a living body. But not the less is this consistency a progress of destruction; these human bones are turning to stone. A little further on is a grave where a struggle is going on between the power that makes the skeleton and the power that makes dust; the first defends itself, but the second is gaining ground, though slowly. The combat between life and death that is taking place in you, and will be over before this combat between one death and another, is nearly ended. In the sepulchre near by, of all that was a human frame nothing is left but a sort of cloth of dust, a little tumbled and unfolded like a small whitish shroud, from which a head comes out. Look, lastly, at this other niche; there is evidently nothing there but simple dust, the color of which even is a little doubtful from its slightly reddish tinge. There, you say, is the consummation of destruction! Not yet. On looking closely, you discern a human outline: this little heap, touching one of the longitudinal extremities of the niche, is the head; these two heaps, smaller and flatter, placed parallel to each other a little lower down, are the shoulders; these two are the knees. The long bones are represented by feeble trails, broken here and there. This last sketch of man, this vague, rubbed-out form, barely imprinted on an almost impalpable dust, which is volatile, nearly transparent, and of a dull, uncertain white, can best give us an idea of what the ancients called a _shade_. If, in order to see better, you put your head into the sepulchre, take care; do not move or speak, hold your breath. That form is frailer than a butterfly's wing, more swift to vanish than a dewdrop hanging on a blade of grass in the sunshine; a little air shaken by your hand, a breath, a tone, become here powerful agents that can destroy in a second what seventeen centuries, perhaps, of decay have spared. See, you breathed, and the form has disappeared. So ends the history of man in this world."

This seems to me quite a beautiful view of death, and one that prompts the Christian to rise at once to that which is above destruction and escapes the catacomb--the immortal principle of life, love, sanctity, and {315} sacrifice. I can only indicate these noble and interesting considerations to those who are eager to study in material Rome the higher city and its significance.

Among l'Abbé Gerbet's writings I will mention only one other, which is, perhaps, his masterpiece, and is connected with a touching incident that will be felt most deeply by practically religious persons, but of which they will not be alone in their appreciation. It was before the year 1838, previously to the abbé's long residence in Rome, that he became intimate with the second son of M. de la Ferronais, former minister of foreign affairs. Young Count Albert de la Ferronais had married a young Russian lady, Mdlle. d'Alopeus, a Lutheran in religion, whom he eagerly desired to lead to the faith. He was dying of consumption at Paris in his twenty-fifth year, and his end seemed to be drawing near, when the young wife, on the eve of widowhood, decided to be of her husband's religion; and one night at twelve o'clock, the hour of Christ's birth, they celebrated in his room, beside the bed so soon to be a bed of death, the first communion of one and the last communion of the other. (June 29, 1836.) L'Abbé Gerbet was the consecrator and consoler in this scene of deep reality and mournful pathos, but yet so full of holy joy to Christians. It was the vivid interest of this incomparable and ideal death-bed which inspired him to write a dialogue between Plato and Fénélon, in which the latter reveals to the disciple of Socrates all needful knowledge concerning the other world, and in which he describes, under a half-lifted veil, a death according to Jesus Christ.

"O writer of Phaedon, and ever admirable painter of an immortal death, why was it not given to you to be the witness of the things which we see with our eyes, hear with our ears, and seize with the inmost perceptions of the soul, when by a concurrence of circumstances of God's making, by a rare complication of joy and agony, the Christian soul, revealed in a new half-light, resembles those wondrous evenings whose twilight has strange and nameless tints! What pictures then and what apparitions! Shall I describe one to you, Plato? Yes, in heaven's name, I will speak. I witnessed it a few days ago, but at the end of a hundred years I should still call it a few days. You will not understand the whole of what I tell you, for I can only speak of these things in the new tongue which Christianity has made; but still you will understand enough. Know, then, that of two souls that had waited for each other on earth and had met," etc.

Then follows the story, slightly veiled and, as it were, transfigured, but without hiding the circumstances. "Plato as a Christian would have spoken thus," said M. de Lamartine of this dialogue, and the eulogium is only just.

L'Abbé Gerbet could, no doubt, have written more than one of these admirable dialogues if he had wished to devote himself to the work, or if his physical organization had enabled him to labor continuously. He processes all that is needed to make him the man for Christian _Tusculanes_. Three times in my life have I had the happiness of seeing him in places entirely suited to him, and which seemed to make a natural frame for him: at Juilly, in 1831, in the beautiful shades that Malebranche used to frequent; in 1839, at Rome, beneath the arches of solitary cloisters; and yesterday, again, in the episcopal gardens of Amiens, where he lives, near his friend, M. de Salinis. Everywhere he is the same. Imagine a slightly stooping figure, pacing with long, slow steps a peaceful walk, where two can chat comfortably together on the shady side, and where he often stops to talk. Observe closely the delicate and affectionate smile, the benign countenance, in which something reminds us of {316} Fléchier and of Fénélon; listen to the sagacious words, elevated and fertile in ideas, sometimes interrupted by fatigue of voice, and by his pausing to take breath; notice among doctrinal views, and comprehensive definitions that come to life of themselves and prove their strength upon his lips, those charming _mots_ and agreeable anecdotes, that talk strewn with reiniscences and pleasantly adorned with amenity,--and do not ask if it is any one else--it is he.

L'Abbé Gerbet has one of those natures which when standing alone are not sufficient unto themselves, and need a friend; we may say that he possesses his full strength only when thus leaning. For a long time he seemed to have found in M. de Lamennais such a friend of firmer will and purpose; but these strong wills often end, without meaning to do so, by taking possession of us as a prey, and then casting us like a slough. True friendship, as La Fontaine understood it, demands more equality and more consideration. L'Abbé Gerbet has found a tender and equal friend, quite suited to his beautiful and faithful nature, in M. de Salinis; to praise one is to win the other's gratitude at once. Will it be an indiscretion if I enter this charming household and describe one day there, at least, in its clever and literary attractions? L'Abbé Gerbet, like Fléchier, whom I have named in connection with him, has a society talent full of charm, sweetness, and invention. He himself has forgotten the pretty verses, little allegorical poems, and couplets appropriate to festivals or occasional circumstances, which he has scattered here and there, in all the places where he has lived and the countries he passed through. He is one of those who can edify without being mournful, and make hours pass gaily without dissipation. In his long life, into which an evil thought never glided, and which escaped all turbulent passions, he has preserved the first joy of a pure and beautiful soul. In him a discreet spirituality is combined with cheerfulness. I have by me a pretty little scene in verse which he wrote a few days ago for the young pupils of the Sacred Heart at Amiens, in which there is a faint suggestion of Esther, but of Esther enlivened by the neighborhood of Gresset. The bishop of Amiens always receives them on Sunday evenings, and they come gladly to his _salon_, where there is no strictness, and where good society is naturally at home. They play a few games, and have a lottery, and, in order that no one may draw a blank, l'Abbé Gerbet makes verses for the loser, who is called, I think, _le nigaud_ (the ninny). These _nigauds_ of l'Abbé Gerbet are appropriate and full of wit; he makes them _by obedience_, which saves him, he says, from all blame and from all thought of ridicule. It is difficult to detach these trifles from the associations of society that call them forth; but here is one of the little _impromptus_ made for the use and consolation "of the losers;" it is called the "Evening Game:"

"My children, to-day is our Lady's day; Now tell me, I pray, in her dear name, Should the hand that this morning a candle clasped, Hold cards to-night in a childish game?

I would not with critical words condemn A pastime the world holds innocent, Let me but say that its levity May veil a lesson of deep intent

Think at the drawing of each card That every day is an idle game. If at its close in the treasures of God There is no prize answering to your name.

This evening game is an hour well passed If God be the guardian of your sports; And the day, closing as it dawned, Shall rejoin this morning's holy thoughts.

I startle you all with my grave discourse; You would laugh and I preach with words austere; No worldly place this--'tis the bishop's house; So pardon this sermon, my children dear."

This is the man who wrote the book upon the eucharist and the dialogue between Plato and Fénélon, and who had a plan of writing the last conference of {317} St. Anselm on the soul; this is he whom the French clergy could oppose with honor to Jouffroy, and whom the most sympathetic of Protestants could combat only while revering him and recognizing him as a brother in heart and intelligence. L'Abbé Gerbet unites to these elevated virtues, which I have merely been able to glance at, a gentle gaiety, a natural and cultivated charm, which reminds one even in holiday games of the playfulness of a Rapin, a Bougeant, a Bonhours. There has been much dispute lately as to the studies and the degree of literary merit authorized by the clergy; many officious and clamorous persons have been brought forward, and it is my desire to notice one who is as distinguished as he is modest.

For a long time I have said to myself, If we ever have to elect an ecclesiastic to the French Academy, how well I know who will be my choice! And what is more, I am quite sure that philosophy in the person of M. Cousin, religion by the organ of M. de Montalembert, and poetry by the lips of M. de Lamartine, would not oppose me.

Monday, Day after the Feast of Assumption, Aug. 16, 1832.

[Since the above article was written, the Abbé Gerbet has had conferred on the episcopal dignity. He died about one year ago.--Ed. C. W.]

[ORIGINAL.]

OUR NEIGHBOR.

Set it down gently at the altar rail, The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet; Long have we seen that pious face so pale Bowed meekly at her Saviour's blessed feet.

These many years her heart was hidden where Nor moth nor rust nor craft of man could harm; The blue eyes seldom lifted, save in prayer, Beamed with her wished for heaven's celestial calm.

As innocent as childhood's was the face, Though sorrow oft had touched that tender heart; Each trouble came as winged by special grace And resignation saved the wound from smart.

On bead and crucifix her fingers kept Until the last, their fond, accustomed hold; "My Jesus," breathed the lips; the raised eyes slept. The placid brow, the gentle hand, grew cold.

The choicely ripening cluster lingering late Into October on its shriveled vine Wins mellow juices which in patience wait Upon those long, long days of deep sunshine.

Then set it gently at the altar rail, The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet; How can we hope if such as she can fail Before the eternal God's high judgment-seat?

{318}

From The Literary Workmen

JENIFER'S PRAYER.

BY OLIVER CRANE.

IN THREE PARTS.

[CONCLUSION.]