PART I.

"I hear a voice you cannot hear, Forbidding me to stay: I see a hand you cannot see, Which beckons me away."

Such were the words on my lips, my dear friend, when I bade you farewell and promised that I would, from time to time, give you a picture of my convent life, that you might in spirit follow me closely into the sealed garden of the Beloved, though forced by circumstances to remain far from me in body.

Fatigued with my long journey, you can imagine I was very glad when I reached this city. I hastened to find the _Rue du Prieuré_, a narrow, gloomy street, paved with cobble-stones, cheerless and uninviting. But about half-way down, I saw a statue of Mary Most Pure, in a niche over a large doorway, with her all-embracing arms extended in welcome. That was a _sursum corda_ which reassured me. The place where Mary is honored is always a home for her children. The sight of her image brings peace and repose to the soul, and I turned aside to rest under her shadow. It was the grand portal of St. Oren's Priory, an arched passage through the very building, wide enough to admit a carriage. I stopped before the ponderous door that was to open for me a new life. This was the door I had so often heard compared with another portal which bears the inscription:

"All ye who enter here, leave hope behind."

But above my head was the Madonna which meant love and peace. _Peace_; yes, that was what I sought, like the Tuscan poet at the Italian monastery:

"And as he asks what there the stranger seeks, My voice along the cloister whispers, Peace!"

The door opened just wide enough to admit me, and, passing through the arch, I found myself in a small paved court, enclosed by the monastery on all sides, where the sun only comes for a short time at midday--a grateful refuge from its heat. In it is a fine large linden-tree, under whose wide-spreading branches I found a group of nuns--it being the hour of daily reunion. I felt bewildered by the sight of so many strange faces, but my first impression was one of general kindness and cordiality. I could not have asked for a kinder welcome, and surely hope and peace were on every face. One of the mothers, seeing my fatigue, took me to the chapel for a moment, and then, through long corridors, to a small cell; thus giving me a general glance at my foreign home. I found thick stone walls, long passages, paved floors, a dim old chapel, and narrow cells. You will think this fearful; on the contrary, it is charming because monastic. One of the narrow cells is mine; furnished with a table, chair, bed, and _prie-dieu_. On the latter stands a crucifix, and on the wall hangs a print of Notre Dame de Bon Secours. There is one window in it,

"Looking toward the golden Eastern air."

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It opens in the middle, longitudinally, like all the windows here; each part swinging back like a folding-door. Looking through it upon the convent garden, the first thing I saw was a lay-sister, bearing on her head an antique-looking jar, which she had just filled from a huge well. There are two of these immense wells in the garden, dug by the monks of old! Yes, _monks_, for our monastery was once a Benedictine abbey, and dates from the tenth century. There's hoary antiquity for you, which has such a charm for us people of the new world. These first days, while resting from my fatigue, I have been looking over the annals of this old establishment, and must give you an outline of them.

Do you remember reading, in the _Chronicles_ of Sir John Froissart, of the Armagnacs, so long at enmity with the house of Foix? The first Count of Armagnac, was the founder of St. Oren's Priory. He was known by the name of Bernard _le Louche_. He made this city the capital of his _comté;_ and one of his first acts, after his establishment here, was to build this monastery. The old parchment in the archives of the priory, quite in accordance with the spirit of the times, runs thus:

"Bernardus Luscus, mindful of his sins, unable to fulfil a vow he had made to visit the Holy Places at Jerusalem, and desirous of liquidating his debts to Divine Justice, resolved, by the counsel of his wife, the Domina Emerina, and the advice of the magnates, his lieges, to found a monastery _in honorem Sanctorum Joannis Baptistae et Evangelistae et Beati Orentii_, that therein prayer might be daily offered for his sins and for those of his posterity."

The site selected for the erection of this monastery was on the banks of a branch of the Garonne, at the foot of an old city known in the time of the Caesars as Climberris, and built _en amphithéatre_, with superb terraces, upon the side of an elevation. It was fitting that the abbey, which Count Bernard had founded for the spiritual weal of himself and his posterity, and endowed with "lands and livings many a rood," should find shelter beneath his fostering eye at the very foot of his crescent-shaped city, which was itself surmounted by the embattled walls of his own stronghold. Thus enclosed by hills on the north and west, and the peaceful, sluggish Algersius on the east, threading its way toward the Garonne--its current soft-gliding and calm as the life of the cloister--what spot more suitable could Count Bernard have found on which to build a house of prayer? The warm sun of France to which it thus lay exposed was tempered by the keen, invigorating winds that came from the snowy Pyrenees, which glitter away to the south.

In this very place, before the advent of the Messiah, in mythological times, a temple had stood in honor of Diana, the old ideal of a people's reverence for purity, and one of nature's foreshadowings of the Christian exaltation of chastity. The Auscitains being early converted to Christianity, their zealous apostles overthrew the high places of the Gentiles, and thereon set up the victorious ensign of the cross--_Vexilla regis prodeunt!_

On the ruins of Diana's temple was erected an altar to the true God, and a baptistery, named, as all baptisteries are, after the precursor of Christ, where came the warlike Ausci to be regenerated at the holy hands of the zealous St. Taurin, and the fearless, idol-demolishing St. Oren, who in turn fixed their abode hard by. Other saints too have lived on the same spot, and their bodies were enshrined hereon after their spirits had passed away. {831} St. Taurin, St. Oren, St. Léothade, St. Austinde, names ever venerable to the heart of an Auscitain, living in the shadow of your shrines, sheltered by your votaries who merit for me your protection, I should be ungrateful to you, untrue to my own heart, did I not often murmur your potent names and praise you to those afar off!

St. Taurin was the fourth successor of St. Paterne, whom St. Sernin, the great apostle not only of Toulouse but of all this part of France, consecrated first bishop of Eauze, then the metropolis of Novempopulania, as Gascony was called. Forced by barbarians, who came in search of spoils, to quit Eauze, St. Taurin took refuge in Climberris, bringing with him, among other relics, the bodies of his four sainted predecessors in the episcopacy: St. Paterne, St. Servand, St. Optat, St. Pompidien. At that time, there were two distinct cities here--Climberris, a Gaulish city, on the side and crest of the hill, and Augusta Auscorum, on the eastern bank of the Algersius, which last received its name from the Emperor Augustus, who passed through it on his return from Spain, and gave it the rights of a Roman city. St. Saturnin had first preached the gospel here, and built a church under the invocation of St. Peter in the city of Augusta; and at the foot of Climberris, where our priory now stands, was a church of St. John. St. Taurin chose the latter as his metropolitan church--a rank it retained for a long period--and there enshrined the holy bodies he had brought with him.

The zeal of St. Taurin was not confined to his own flock. Hearing of a great Druidical celebration in the woods of Berdale, he repaired thither. The unholy rites had commenced, and a profound silence reigned, when all at once a loud voice was heard. It was that of St. Taurin, denouncing their idolatry and calling upon the multitude to turn to the true God. The crowd was at first too much astonished at his boldness to move, but after some hesitation, incited by the Druids, overwhelmed the apostle with a shower of stones. Finding he still breathed, they cut off his head. His feast is solemnized with the utmost pomp in this diocese, on the fifth of September, which is believed to be the day of his martyrdom.

St. Oren belonged to a Spanish family of high rank, his father being the Duke of Urgel and Governor of Catalonia. He early renounced his right of heritage, but, after the death of his brother, succeeded to the family estates. He sold all his property, distributed the money among the poor, and retired to a hermitage amidst the mountains of Bigorre, where he led an angelic life, giving himself up to severe austerities and the contemplation of divine things. The renown of his virtues and his reputation for learning caused his nomination to this see, of which he reluctantly took possession in the year 400. He displayed extraordinary energy and zeal in rooting out the vestiges of idolatry still lingering in his diocese, and in reviving true piety among the lukewarm of his flock.

St. Oren was a learned man and a poet. The great Fortunatus, Bishop of Poitiers, who lived in the sixth century, mentions his poems, of which some fragments have come down to us. His _Nomenclature_, in particular, has always been known and quoted. It is more extensive than any other ancient list of the symbols of the God-Man. Sylvius, in the fifth century, gives forty-five of these symbolical names in seven verses. Clement of Alexandria, in his hymn to our Saviour, gives ten. St. Cyril mentions twelve, in a sermon. {832} The list of St. Phébade of Agen, in the fourth century, comprises twenty-one. The _Nomenclature_ of Constantinople mentions twelve; that of Rome, twenty-two; but that of St. Oren, composed in his solitude of Bigorre, gives, in five distichs, fifty-two of these emblematical names of our Saviour. I quote it entire:

De Epithetis Salvatoris Nostri.

Janua, Virgo, Leo, Sapientia, Verbum, Rex, Baculus, Princeps, Dux, Petra, Pastor, Homo, Retia, Sol, Sponsus, Semen, Mons, Stella, Magister, Margarita, Dies, Agnus, Ovis, Vitulus, Thesaurus, Fons, Vita, Manus, Caput, Ignis, Aratrum, Flos, Lapis angularis, Dextra, Columba, Puer, Vitis, Adam, Digitus, Speculum, Via, Botryo, Panis, Hostia, Lex, Ratio, Virga, Piscis, Aquila, Justus, Progenies regis, regisque Sacerdos; Nomina Magna Dei, major at ipse Deus.

"These are the great names of God, but he himself is still far greater!" says the last line.

St. Oren never lost his love for solitude, and this attraction, added to the burden of his episcopal duties, induced him at last to resume his hermit's staff and set out for the grotto, which had been the witness of his former austerities and was the never-ceasing object of his regret. His flock, in consternation, pursued him and brought him back to his post, where his piety, his talents, and the miracles he wrought, gave him preeminence among all the bishops of Aquitaine. When Theodoric I., King of the Visigoths, was besieged at Toulouse, by Lictorius, lieutenant of the celebrated Aétius, the former sent St. Oren, with several other bishops, to arrange terms of peace with the Roman commander. Lictorius received them with haughty contempt, and, sure of victory, rejected all their propositions. Then Theodoric humbled himself before the Lord of Hosts. He covered himself with sackcloth, prostrated himself in prayer, and then went forth to battle and to victory.

Shortly after this embassy, St. Oren felt his end approaching, and armed himself with the holy sacraments for the last earthly combat. His soul passed away, with a sweet odor, on the first of May, and his body was enshrined in the church of St. John, which subsequently took his name. He has always been greatly venerated in this country, and is invoked in all diseases of the mind. Count John I. of Armagnac gave a magnificent silver bust as a reliquary for the skull of St. Oren. His feast is still religiously celebrated, and is a great holiday among the common people, who assemble after vespers to dance their _rondeaux_ in the open air.

The church of St. John, where reposed a long line of holy apostles and prelates, was, with the two cities, destroyed by the Saracens, in the eighth century. But in the year of grace 956, as I have said, Bernard le Louche, inspired by God, built on the same spot a magnificent church with three naves, to which he joined a Benedictine abbey. They were built of the stones of the city walls, which, two centuries before, had been levelled to the dust by the Moors. A hundred years later, this abbey was reduced to a priory by St. Hugo, and affiliated to his abbey at Cluny. The names of a long succession of abbots and priors are recorded in the chronicles of St. Oren's Priory, most of whom belonged to the noblest families of the country. During the French Revolution of 1793, the abbatial church and a part of the monastery were, alas! destroyed; but there is a quadrangular tower--a part of the original abbey--still standing, and a fine Gothic chapel, which dates from the fourteenth century, besides a more modern, and still large, edifice, with long dim corridors leading away to austere cells, or to spacious sunny _salons_. These were taken possession of by a venerable community of Ursuline nuns, who had been dispersed during the Reign of Terror, but who, as soon as permitted, hastened like doves to find a new ark.

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A steep spiral staircase, of hewn stone, lighted only by long narrow chinks left purposely in the thick walls, leads to the top of the old tower, which commands a delightful view of the valley of the Algersius. At the foot, toward the south, lies the convent garden, with its wells, its almond-trees, acacias, vines, and rose-bushes--loved haunts of the nightingales, which I heard there for the first time in my life. On the east passes the _route impériale_, beneath the very convent walls, and beyond, parallel with it, flows the river which gives its name to the _département_. Centuries ago, when the country was more thickly wooded, it is said to have been a navigable river, and merited to be sung by Fortunatus, who was a poet as well as bishop. The eastern bank is shaded by a long grove of noble trees--a public promenade--where, at due hours, may be seen all the fashion, valor, and sanctity of the city. Through the trees may be caught a glimpse of an old Franciscan monastery, now an asylum for the insane, where once stood a temple of Bacchus, whose memory is still perpetuated in this land of vineyards. There, in the fourteenth century, was buried Reine, niece of Pope Clement V., and wife of John I., the thirteenth Comte d'Armagnac. Near by is the airy tower of St. Pierre, first built by St. Saturnin, in the third century, and rebuilt several times since--the last time, after its destruction by the Huguenots in the civil and religious disturbances of the sixteenth century. The music of its _carillon_ floats through the valley at an early hour every morning, summoning the devout to mass.

Cradling the valley toward the west is the quaint old city. Its houses of cream-colored stone with red tiled roofs rise one behind the other on terraces, and, crowning all, are the towers of one of the finest cathedrals of France.

Due east from the tower, in the background, rises a high hill, called in the time of the Romans Mount Nerveva, but which now glories in the more Christian appellation of Mount St. Cric. There our glorious St. Oren battered down a temple of Apollo, but its summit is still lit up by that god at each return of hallowed morn.

Away to the south stretch the Pyrenees, hiding Catholic and chivalric Spain, and gleaming in the sun like the very walls of the celestial city. Even Maldetta, with its name of ill omen, looks pure and holy.

This old tower is for me a loved haunt on a bright sunny day. I often betake myself to its top to enjoy all the reveries inspired by the scene before me. Its venerable, almost crumbling walls, its curious recesses and carvings, speak loudly of the monks of old. There I seem nearer to heaven; I breathe a purer, a more refined atmosphere, which exalts the heart and quickens its vibrations.

There is a large sunny apartment in the tower in which I witnessed a most affecting event--the death of a nun. So impressed was I by this flight of an angelic soul to the everlasting embraces of the Spouse of virgins, that I cannot refrain from giving you a sketch of its closing scenes.

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When I first arrived at the priory, poor Sister Saint Sophie wandered around like a ghost, already far gone with pulmonary consumption. She entered the cloister while only seventeen years of age, wishing to offer the flower of her life to him who loves the fragrance of an innocent heart. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, she was called to exchange the holy chants of the choir for the divine _Trisagium_ of the redeemed above. Her health had long been delicate; but the innocence of her soul, the natural calmness of her disposition, her strong religious faith, and her detachment from earth, made her look forward to death without the slightest apprehension. She spoke of the event as she would of going to the chapel where dwells the Beloved.

About a week before her death, she went to the infirmary, by her own request--to die. The infirmary is a commodious apartment in the second story of the tower, a room which most of the nuns shrink from approaching, for there they have seen so many of their sisters die. I went every day to see poor Sister Sophie. The room was adorned with religious engravings, a crucifix, a statue of the Madonna, and a holy-water font. On the mantel were some books of devotion, among which I noticed the New Testament in French. I always found this dying sister calm, excepting one evening, when her cheeks glowed with a burning fever. It was only a few days before her death, and was caused by her last struggle with earth. When that was past, she was ready to die. Her sister, longing to see her once more, had obtained permission of the ecclesiastical superiors to enter the monastery. But Sister Sophie, wishing to avail herself of this last opportunity of self-sacrifice, opposed her entrance; and it was this struggle between natural affection and a sense of duty which produced so violent a fever. This act of self-denial affected me deeply.

One Saturday, at about half-past eight in the morning, I was hastily summoned by the Mère St. J---- to go to the infirmary, for Sister Sophie was dying. I hurried down. Poor Sophie lay, ghastly white, with her crucifix in her hands. Her rosary and girdle lay, on the bed, at the foot of which was placed an engraving of the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the opening of which reposed a dove--emblem of the soul that trusts in the Saviour. She was perfectly calm. There was not a sign of apprehension. Her brother-in-law, who was her physician, stood by her bedside, and said she could not survive the day. Her confessor, the Abbé de B----, a venerable priest of more than four score years, asked if she had any thing on her conscience. She shook her head. Her soul was clad in its pure bridal robe, ready for the marriage supper of the Lamb. All went to the chapel, and, with lighted tapers, two and two, followed the holy viaticum to the infirmary. It was borne by the _curé_ in a silver ciborium, and placed on an altar erected in the middle of the room. It was a most solemn scene--the nuns kneeling all around with wax tapers in their hands, their heads bowed down in adoration, and their black robes and veils flowing around them, all responding to the priest, who, in white surplice and stole, brought comfort to the dying. He demanded of the dying nun a profession of her faith; if she died in charity with all mankind; and if she were sorry, and begged pardon of God, for all her sins--to which she faintly but distinctly responded. He then gave her the divine viaticum, and prepared to administer to her the sacrament of extreme unction. {835} As he anointed each organ, he said, before repeating the formula of the church, "O God! forgive me the sins I have committed by _such an organ_," (of sight, hearing, etc.) After this sacrament he accorded her the plenary indulgence of Bona Mors. I was very much affected by these holy rites, and the more so as I then witnessed them for the first time.

I went to see the departing sister several times in the course of the day. The death-struggle was long, but there was no appearance of suffering.

At eight o'clock in the evening, while we were reading the meditation for the following morning, a nun came in haste. "Quick! quick! pray for Sister Sophie. She is dying!" In a moment the infirmary was crowded with nuns. Sister Sophie was in her agony. The crucifix was still in her hand. A blessed candle of pure white wax was burning beside her, and the sub-prioress was reading solemn prayers for the departing soul, to which the nuns sobbingly responded. At the head of her bed stood a sister, who sprinkled her from time to time with holy water. Near her stood another prompting pious aspirations: "Jesus! Mary! Joseph! may I breathe out my soul with you in peace!"

At half-past eight she had given up her soul as calmly as if going to sleep. The _Sub-venite_ was said, and then we all went to the chapel to pray for the departed.

The next morning, (Sunday,) on my way to the chapel, I stopped at the infirmary. Sister Sophie was lying on a bier, clad in her religious habit, with the sacred veil upon her head, and in her clasped hands a crucifix, and the vows which bound her to the Spouse of virgins. Her countenance was expressive of happiness and repose. A wax candle burned on each side of her head. A holy-water font stood near, and some nuns knelt around, praying for their departed sister. That day, masses were offered for her in every church and chapel in the city, and at a later hour the nuns said the office of the dead in choir. At four o'clock, I went again to the infirmary, to see her placed in her coffin. I have witnessed among those who are vowed to a life of holy poverty many examples of detachment from every thing the world deems essential, but I have never seen any thing which so went to my heart as when I saw Sister Sophie's coffin. It was simply a long deal box, unpainted and without lining. The body was placed therein, still in the religious costume. The black veil covered the face, and on her head was a wreath of white flowers. How bitterly did the nuns weep as they placed their sister in her narrow cell--even more austere than that in which she had lived! I too wept profusely to see one buried thus humbly, but perhaps suitably. The lid being nailed down, the coffin was covered with a pall, on which was a great white cross, and on it the novices spread garlands of fresh white flowers mingled with green leaves.

The nuns are buried in the cemetery of St. Oren's parish, and nothing is more affecting than when, at the portal of the convent, the coffin is entrusted to the hands of strangers; the nuns not being able to go beyond the limits of the cloister. It is then conveyed to the exterior church. Several priests received Sister Sophie at the door, and sprinkled the coffin with holy water, chanting meanwhile the _De Profundis_ and _Requiem aeternam_. How awfully solemn are these chants of the dead! Every tone went to my very heart. The coffin was then borne to the centre of the church, where it was surrounded by lights, and the priests chanted the office for the dead, at the close of which they went in procession to the cemetery. {836} First were three acolytes, the middle one bearing an immense silver cross, which gleamed aloft in the departing sunlight; and the other two bore the censer and the _bénitier;_ then came the priests, two and two, chanting the _Miserere_. The coffin followed, borne on a bier by six peasant women dressed in white, with curious white caps and kerchiefs. Their sepulchral appearance made me shudder. Then went four young ladies bearing a pall, on which was the great white cross and the significant death's-head. Many other ladies followed in procession. Arriving at the cemetery, the grave was blessed, while we all knelt about it. Water that had been sanctified with prayer was sprinkled on the fresh earth; clouds of incense rose from the smoking censer, and _Ego sum resurrectio et vita_ burst in solemn intonations from the lips of the priests. Then the coffin was lowered into the grave; the young ladies threw in garlands of flowers which were soon covered. Poor Sophie was at rest, and her soul was enjoying the reward of her sacrifices. I bedewed her grave with my tears. Never was I so peculiarly affected by any death as by this, every circumstance of which is fastened most vividly in my memory. The _De Profundis_ and the _Miserere_ still ring in my ear, and poor Sister Sophie, as she lay in her agony, surrounded by the spouses of Christ, praying amid their sobs, for her admittance into Paradise, will never be forgotten. "_Requiescat in pace!_"

But of all parts of the priory, I love best the antique chapel of the Immaculate Conception. It is entered through the cloister by a low, dim vestibule, supported by "ponderous columns, short and low." A few steps, and the arches spring lightly up, forming a perfect gem of a Gothic chapel, with its altar faithful to the east--

"Mindful of Him who, in the Orient born, There lived, and on the cross his life resigned, And who, from out the regions of the morn, Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind."

Three ogival windows in the chancel throw on the pavement the warm gules of an escutcheon emblazoned on the glass. They diffuse not too strong a light--only enough for a glow around the tabernacle, leaving the rest of the chapel in a shade that disposes the heart to contemplation and prayer. In the morning, at mass, the rising sun streams through, mingling with the light of the tapers, like that of nature and grace in the hearts of the worshippers. Over the altar, in a niche, is a statue of Mary Most Pure, with the divine Babe in her arms--as I love to see all her statues, that the remembrance of the Blessed Virgin may never be disconnected from that of the Incarnation. "The Madonna and Child--a subject so consecrated by antiquity," says Mrs. Jameson, "so hallowed by its profound significance, so endeared by its associations with the softest and deepest of our human sympathies, that the mind has never wearied of its repetition, nor the eye become satiated with its beauty. Those who refuse to give it the honor due to a religious representation yet regard it with a tender, half-unwilling homage, and when the glorified type of what is purest, loftiest, holiest, in womanhood stands before us, arrayed in all the majesty that accomplished art, inspired by faith and love, could lend her, and bearing her divine Son, rather enthroned than sustained, on her maternal bosom,'we look, and the heart is in heaven!' and it is difficult, very difficult, to refrain from an 'Ora pro nobis!'"

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In this chapel Mary has been honored for ages. The chronicles of the priory tell us that in the days of the monks of St. Benedict crowds of the faithful filled, as now, this chapel on the eighth of December, its patronal _féte_. The deep-toned voices that then chanted the praises of Mary have died away, but the notes have been caught up and continued in softer, sweeter tones by the lips of the spouses of Christ.

I can never enter this chapel without a thrill. I love to linger beneath its vault of stone, the arches of which spring from corbells quaintly sculptured, and form, at their intersection, medallions of Jesus and Mary, who look benignly down on the suppliant beneath. Prostrate on the pavement which holy knees have worn, and breathing an air perfumed by the prayers of centuries, my mind goes back to former times, and I think of the cowled monks who once bowed in prayer before the same altar, and murmured the same prayers I so love to repeat:

"Their book they read and their beads they told, To human softness dead and cold, And all life's vanity."

I must tell you something of St. Mary's Cathedral, which is the glory of this place. You should see it from our garden, crowning this city built upon a hill, with its towers and pinnacles. It is perfectly majestic. There, on the same spot, before the Incarnation, stood a temple of Venus. Christianity, which always loved to sanctify these high places, made the lascivious Venus yield to the Mother of pure love. Toward the end of the third century, St. Taurin brought a venerated statue of our Lady from Eauze, and erected a chapel here in her honor. It was not till about the year 800 that a cathedral was erected in the same place. It has been four times demolished, and as often rebuilt. In 1793, it was preserved with great difficulty. During that time it served as a prison for many of the _noblesse_, and was stripped of many of its most precious ornaments. The holy image of Mary was superseded by the Goddess of Reason, and horses were stabled in its chapels. But one does not love to linger over such profanation.

This cathedral is particularly remarkable for the carvings of the choir and for the fine stained-glass windows of the Renaissance. Wishing to examine it minutely, I obtained permission to visit it at those hours when it is closed--that is, from noon till three o'clock. Accompanied by a servant, I was there precisely at twelve. The Angelus bell pealed forth just as I entered the church, and

"Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop Sprinkles the congregation and scatters blessings upon them."

The _Suisse_, who was an old soldier under Napoleon I., and was in the Russian campaign, locked us in, free to wander at will and unremarked in this vast cathedral, with the excellent _Monographie_ by the learned Abbé Canéto in hand. At the very portal we passed over the tomb of an old archbishop, who wished through humility to be buried under the pavement of the principal entrance to the church, that he might be trodden under foot by all men. Perhaps there was something of natural instinct in this choice. I know not whether I should prefer some quiet and shady nook for my grave, or a great thoroughfare like this, with the almost constant ring of human feet above my head. This prelate has lain there about two centuries, "awaiting," as the inscription says, "the resurrection of the dead."

We entered the church beneath the tribune of the organ, a fine instrument--the master-piece of Joyeuse, a famous organ-maker of the time of Louis XIV. On its front panels are beautifully carved, _en relief_, St. Cecilia and the Royal Harper.

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The whole building is over three hundred feet long. Four rows of pillars divide it into three naves and collateral chapels, which are twenty-one in number, extending quite around it, each with paintings, and statues, and altars of marble, and its oaken confessional,

"Where the graveyard in the human heart Gives up its dead at the voice of the priest."

The baptismal font, in the first chapel to the left, is of a single block of fine black Belgian marble. One lingers reverentially before it, to think of all the souls that have there been regenerated, and of the holy joy of the guardian angels around it.

The windows are glorious in their effect. Thereon are represented all the principal characters of the Bible, beginning with Adam and Eve; interspersed are the sibyls _(Teste David cum sibylla)_ and saints of the middle ages. The bright sun, streaming through these "storied windows richly dight," revealing in brightest hues "many a prophet, many a saint," casts a rich light of purple and crimson and gold over altar and saint and shrine; not the _dim_ religious light of the poets, but bright and glorious as the rainbow that spans the Eternal Throne! I could sit in their light for ever. What a beautiful missal, gorgeously illuminated, they form for the common people, and a book ever open, full of the beauty of holiness! I envy those who have worshipped in such a church from infancy, whose minds and tastes have been formed, in part, by its influences, whose earliest religious associations are connected with so much that is beautiful as well as elevating. There must be a certain tone to their piety, as well as to their minds, wanting to those who have only frequented the humbler chapels of the new world. I can never enter the plainest Catholic church without emotion. The very sight of a humble altar surmounted by the rudest cross, goes to my heart; how much more a magnificent church like this, where every thing appeals to the heart, the soul, the imagination!

Over the doors leading to the transepts are the rose-windows.

"Flamboyant with a thousand gorgeous colors, The perfect flower of Gothic loveliness!"

Beyond the transepts is the choir--a church within a church; for it is enclosed by a high wall with a screen and rood-loft in front. Here the canons chant the divine office seven times a day. The stalls in which they sit are fit for princes--each one a marvellous piece of workmanship, like the handiwork of a fairy rather than of man.

The panels with their large figures in relief, the Gothic niches with their statuettes, the desks all covered with carved animals and plants almost in the perfection of nature, the canopy with its hangings, beautiful as lace, are all perfectly wrought in black oak, and surpass all conception. I have heard it said the wood was kept under water twenty years, and the carver was fifty years in completing his work; and you would believe it could you see the effect. I have seen finer churches, in some respects, but no carvings to surpass these. One is never weary of examining every inch of this exquisite choir, so full of perfection is every part. Sacred and profane history, mythological and legendary lore, the fauna and flora, are all mingled in these stalls. There are one hundred and thirteen of them--sixty-seven superior, and forty-six inferior; and three hundred and six statuettes in wonderful little Gothic niches. Each superior stall has its large panel, on which in demi-relief is the image of some saint or sibyl. {839} One of them represents St. Martha of Bethany, with an _aspersoir_ in her hand and the _Tarasque_ at her feet, alluding to the old legend so popular in Provence, of her subduing a monster which ravaged the banks of the Rhone by sprinkling him with holy water. The city of Tarascon commemorates the tradition. A magnificent church built there, under the invocation of St. Martha, was endowed by Louis XI.

At three o'clock the canons came for vespers, after which we went to the tower to see the view and examine the bells, the largest of which is covered with medallions of the apostles and the Blessed Virgin, and with mottoes. It bears the name of Mary.

"These bells have been anointed And baptized with holy water."

Perhaps you do not know that in the ceremony of consecrating a bell, the bishop prays that, as the voice of Christ appeased the troubled waters, God would endow the sound of the bell with power to avert the malign influence of the great enemy; that it may possess the power of David's harp, which dispelled the dark cloud from the soul of Saul; and that at its sound hosts of angels may surround the assembled multitudes, preserve their souls from temptation and defend their bodies from all danger. The smaller bells are rung daily for the Angelus and ordinary occasions. The tones of the great Bourdon are reserved for the grand festivals of Christmas, Easter, etc. I was curious to see them, for they are like friends from whom we have had many kind tokens, but have never met. They are always ringing above the priory; and their tones say so many things to our hearts--solemn and funereal, or tender, or joyful. "There is something beautiful in the church-bell," says Douglas Jerrold--"beautiful and hopeful. They talk to the high and low, rich and poor, in the same voice. There is a sound in them that should scare away envy and pride and meanness of all sorts from the heart of man; that should make him look on the world with kind, forgiving eyes; that should make the earth itself seem, to him at least, a holy place. Yes, there is a whole sermon in the very sound of the church-bells, if we only have the ears to understand it." As Longfellow says:

"For the bells themselves are the best of preachers; Their brazen lips are learned teachers. From their pulpits of stone in the upper air, Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw, Shriller than trumpets under the law, Now a sermon and now a prayer. The clamorous hammer is the tongue; This way, that way, beaten and swung, That from mouth of brass, as from mouth of gold, May be taught the Testaments, New and Old: And above it the great cross-beam of wood Representeth the holy rood, Upon which, like the bell, our hopes are hung. And the wheel wherewith it is swayed and rung Is the mind of man, that round and round Sways, and maketh the tongue to sound! And the rope, with its twisted cordage three, Denoteth the scriptural Trinity Of morals, and symbols, and history; And the upward and downward motions show That we touch upon matters high and low: And the constant change and transmutation Of action and of contemplation, Downward, the Scripture brought from on high; Upward, exalted again to the sky; Downward, the literal interpretation, Upward, the vision and mystery!"

In the undercroft of the cathedral reposes, among other saints, the body of St. Léothade. He was of royal blood, being a near relative of Eudes, Duke of Aquitaine, who was of the race of Clotaire II. He was also related to Charles Martel, and to the well-known sylvan saint, Hubert, who was contemporary with St. Léothade, and a native of this part of France. St. Léothade embraced the monastic state early in life, and, after being abbot at Moissac, was called to govern this diocese, which he did for twenty-seven years. In the wars between Charles Martel and Eudes he retired into Burgundy, his native place, where he died at the beginning of the eighth century. His body was reclaimed by the Auscitains. {840} His tomb is all sculptured with the symbols of our Saviour--the fish, wine, etc.

St. Léothade is invoked in various diseases, particularly for epilepsy.

Through the kindness of the _mère prieure_ I had the privilege of assisting at the office of Holy Week at St. Mary's Cathedral. I witnessed all those affecting rites from the _jubé_, or rood-loft, which is reached by a dark, winding stairway in one of the huge pillars. My position was one of seclusion, and yet overlooked both the choir and the nave. To fully appreciate the ceremonies of the church, one must witness them in one of these old churches of the middle ages, to which they seem adapted. The long procession of white-robed clergy, through the forest of columns, with palm branches in their hands; "Hosanna to the son of David!" resounding through the arches; the tapers, rich vestments, the heavenly light streaming through the stained-glass windows, not dimly, but like a very rainbow of hope encircling us all--impress the heart with sentiments of profound devotion.

I was particularly struck by the vivid picture of the Passion given in the gospel of Palm-Sunday, as sung by the choir. One priest chanted the historical parts in a recitative way; a second, the words of our Lord; and a third, the words of the disciples and others. The insolent cries of the multitude, the confident tones of St. Peter, the loud bold tones of Judas, were well reproduced; while the sacred words of Christ were repeated in the clearest, calmest, most subdued and plaintive of accents, that sank into my soul and moved me to tears. That voice seemed to sweep over the sea of surging hearts that filled the church, like the very voice of Jesus calming the tempest on the lake! It rung in my heart for days. It rings there yet, a sermon more powerful than any man could preach. When the priest comes to the words, "_and gave up the ghost_," the sight of the vast multitude prostrating to the ground is most impressive.

The gospel of the Passion, succeeding the triumphant procession with the palm branches, becomes doubly impressive by the contrast. "Oh! what a contrast," cries St. Bernard, "between '_Tolle, tolle, crucifige eum_,' and '_Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini, Hosanna in Excelsis!_' What a contrast between '_King of Israel_,' and '_We have no king but Caesar!_' Between the green branches and the cross! Between the flowers and the thorns! Between taking off their garments to cast before him, and stripping him of his own and casting lots for them!"

The nave was one forest of waving green branches, and the common people seemed to enter into and enjoy the ceremonies very heartily. These grand services give such a vivid idea of the great events of the life of Christ that they must be very beneficial to the people, who come in throngs to witness them; and there are no pews here, with their invidious distinctions, to shut them out. The peasant and the nobleman are brought on a level in that place where alone is to be found true democracy--the Church.

The archbishop presided at these ceremonies, a venerable, austere-looking prelate, who moved about with gravity, always attended by his servant, a pale, cadaverous-looking man in black, with a white cravat, reminding me so forcibly of one of our New England ministers that I never could resist a smile when my eye fell on him, as he obediently followed the dignified prelate.

{841}

St. Mary's Cathedral was once one of the richest in France, being endowed by the kings of Arragon, Navarre, and of France, and by the Counts of Fezensac and of Armagnac. In those days the archbishop was a magnate in the land. The Counts of Armagnac paid homage to him, and when he came to take possession of his see, the Baron de Montaut, with bared head and one limb bare, awaited him on foot at the gates of the city, took his mule by the bridle, and so conducted him to the cathedral. He was then, as he styles himself now, primate of Novempopulania and of the two Navarres.

One of the old archbishops, of the race of the Counts d'Aure, accompanied Richard the Lion-hearted to Palestine in 1190, and died there the next year.

On Holy Thursday all business was suspended. The streets were crowded with people going to visit the different churches where the Blessed Sacrament was exposed. I visited fourteen churches and chapels. At every turn in the streets were boys erecting little altars and chapels by the way-side, and importuning the passer-by for a _sou_ to aid in fitting them up. Of course, I saw the greater part of the city, which is picturesque, as seen from the valley, but rather ugly when one has mounted the weary flights of steps, and gained its heart. The streets are mostly narrow and treeless, but there are two promenades with fine old trees, and the public buildings are a credit to the place. There is a _grand_ and _petit séminiaire_ here, a lyceum, normal school, two boarding-schools, besides several day and free schools; so there is no lack for means of instruction.

The famous Nostradamus, renowned for his _Centuries prophétiques_, was once a professor in this place. And St. Francis Regis was regent of the Jesuits' college which was here before the suppression of that order in the last century.

On Good-Friday I went to the chapel of the Carmelites, for the Three Hours' Agony. Daylight was wholly excluded. The altar was fitted up like a Calvary, with a large crucifix on the summit. Tall wax candles burned around it as round a bier. The rest of the chapel was in darkness. The black grating that separates the chancel from the choir of the nuns was so closely curtained that they were wholly invisible. The agony was a paraphrase of the last words of our Saviour upon the cross, making it like seven discourses, or rather meditations. At the end of each part all knelt, while the preacher made an extempore prayer, and then rose a sweet solemn wail of music. One by one the lights around the Calvary were extinguished--a deeper gloom shrouding the chapel and settling on our hearts. At last, only one light was left, emblematic of Him who came to give light to the world. That, too, went out at three o'clock, leaving us in utter darkness. Then the preacher cried: _Jesus is dying!--Jesus is dead!_ All fell on their knees. The most profound silence reigned. When sufficiently recovered from the awe and solemnity which pervaded every heart, all prostrated themselves, and softly left the church. The effect was indescribable. Nothing could so powerfully incite the heart to repentance for sin, and unite it to the sufferings and death of Christ, as this three hours' meditation on his agony upon the cross.

"Holy Mother, pierce me through; In my heart each wound renew Of my Saviour crucified!"

{842}

After the weight of sorrow that had been accumulating on the heart during the great week of the Passion, you cannot imagine the effect when, on Holy Saturday, the joyful Alleluias rang out with all the bells of the city, which had been hushed for days, announcing the Resurrection. A great rock seemed rolled away from the heart, and hope and joy rose triumphant over sorrow, and anguish, and fear.

On Easter-Sunday I saw something at St. Mary's quite new to me. After mass, a basket of bread was blessed, broken in pieces, and passed around the church. All took a piece, made the sign of the cross, and said a short prayer before eating it. This _pain bénti_ is in commemoration of the _Agapae_ of the primitive Christians, I suppose. It is a common custom here. While still at our devotions, a man came around with a dish, saying in a queer, sing-song tone, _Pour les ámes du Purgatoire_, (For the souls in purgatory,) and offered the dish as if doing you a favor to receive your mite, which, perhaps, was right enough.

Last Sunday evening I went to St. Oren's parish church, to assist at the month of Mary. On each side of the pulpit is a large statue. One is of Moses, the Hebrew lawgiver, with two horns. He is often represented so by the old masters, because the same word which expresses the brightness of his face when he descended from the mount, may also be rendered horns. They give him a comical look, any thing but saint-like. Such a statue would seem more suitable, to my unaccustomed eyes, for some rural spot. Then it would look like some link between man and the lower animals, and so have some claims to our sympathy.

I went into the sacristy to see the ivory horn said to have been used by St. Oren, in the fifth century, to call the people to the holy mysteries. It was still used, last century, during Holy Week. It is curiously carved in the Byzantine style, with leaves, birds, beasts, etc., upon it. It is popularly believed to have the power of restoring hearing to the deaf. In the sacristy was an old statue of St. Jago in a pilgrim's garb. In former times there was a hospice in this city for the reception of pilgrims to his shrine at Compostella.

In making some excavations in our grounds, where once were the cloisters of the monks, the workmen have found many old graves, and also some curiosities. The other day a marble slab was found, on which is a Latin inscription in quaint old characters, stating that it was erected by Amaneus II., an archbishop of this diocese in the thirteenth century. Beneath the inscription was carved a cross, on one side of which was a crosier, and on the other a leopard lion, the cognizance of the house of Armagnac. It bore the date of 1288. The said Amaneus was of the celebrated house of Armagnac, the head of which founded this priory. I should not be a true daughter of the house did I not, with pious memory, love to recall our benefactors, for, replacing the old monks, we take upon ourselves their sweet debt of gratitude. I will give you, then, an outline of this once proud family, that you may share all our glorious memories.

The counts of Armagnac descended from the Merovingian race of kings. They were connected by marriage with the proudest families of Europe, and at one time they gave their name to a faction of France against the Burgundians. Their proud name and royal blood were fit to merge again into a race of kings. {843} The first Count d'Armagnac was Bernard le Louche, who, through Charibert, sovereign of Toulouse and Aquitaine, descended from Clotaire II. Count Bernard was distinguished for his piety and his benefactions to the church. The third count of Armagnac divested himself of his worldly goods, and became a monk of the order of St. Benedict.

The famous contest of the Armagnacs with the house of Foix began in the time of Bernard VI., the twelfth count. The pope in vain endeavored to reconcile them. Philippe of Navarre finally decided their differences, and peace was declared in 1329. The war was renewed some years after, in the time of Count John, who was taken prisoner, and had to pay a ransom of one thousand livres.

Count Bernard VII. is the most famous of the Armagnacs. He was the fifteenth count. His daughter Bonne married Charles, Duke of Orleans, then only nineteen years of age, and the son of the Duc d'Orléans who was killed by Jean-sans-peur, Duke of Burgundy. Count Bernard became, by the youth of his son-in-law, the head of the Orleans faction against the Burgundians. He was made constable of France in 1415. To the dignity of supreme commander of the army was added in a short time that of prime minister. Descended from the old French monarchs, he had great sway in the south of France, and was one of the greatest warriors of his age. He displayed remarkable talents in remedying the frightful evils which broke out throughout the kingdom. His efforts would doubtless have been successful, had he not had to struggle against the Burgundian party. By his experience and firmness he established discipline among his troops, and kept them constantly ready for action. Active, intrepid, gifted with a bold and elevated character, he became a fearful rival for Jean-sans-peur.

The numerous partisans of the latter, having succeeded in deceiving the vigilance of the constable, introduced the Burgundian troops into Paris in the middle of the night. The massacre of the principal royalists was the consequence, and the Count of Armagnac himself was slaughtered in the most frightful manner, on the 12th of June, 1418, in the fiftieth year of his age. He was concealed in the house of a mason. The Burgundians threatening the partisans of the Armagnacs with death and confiscation, the mason treacherously denounced his guest, who was immediately imprisoned in the _conciergerie_, amid the imprecations of a multitude of his enemies. Forcing themselves into the prison, they slew the count. In their fury they cut off a piece of his skin, two inches wide, from the right shoulder to the left side, in ridicule of the scarf which was the distinguishing badge of the Armagnacs. He was buried at St. Martin des Champs.

His successor, Count John IV., greatly aided Charles VII. against the English, but finally offended him by desiring to marry the daughter of the King of England, and by styling himself, "_by the grace of God_, Count of Armagnac," though his ancestors had used the expression for six centuries.

The haughty pretensions of the counts of Armagnac were the cause of their final ruin. King Louis XI., ever jealous of the claims of the nobility, decreed the downfall of their house. Count John V. was besieged at Lectoure, and obliged to capitulate. The soldiers entered the palace, ascended to the count's chamber, and slew him on the first Saturday in Lent, 1473. At the third blow he died, invoking the Virgin. All the people of Lectoure were massacred, and for two months wolves were the only inhabitants of the place. {844} The lands of Count John were united to the crown of France. His brother Charles, who had been kept prisoner for fifteen years, was finally restored to liberty, and to the possession of the Comté d'Armagnac in 1483. He married Jane of Foix, who had no children; but he left a natural son, the Baron de Caussade, whose only son, George d'Armagnac, embraced the ecclesiastical state, and became a cardinal. He was the last of the male line of the Armagnacs.

The Comté d'Armagnac was afterward given by Louis XII. as the dowry of his niece, Margaret of Valois, when she married Charles d'Alençon, the grandson of Marie d'Armagnac, daughter of Count John IV. Charles dying without children, Margaret married Henri d'Albret, King of Navarre, who descended from a daughter of Count Bernard VII. of Armagnac. Henri Quatre, King of France, was their grandson, and from his time the Comté d'Armagnac has been permanently united to the crown.

Louis XIV., after consummating his marriage at St. Jean de Luz, returned to Paris through this city, where he assisted at the divine office in St. Mary's Cathedral, and, in quality of Count of Armagnac, took his place in his exquisitely carved stall as _chanoine honoraire_.

The stronghold of the Armagnacs was long since laid low. Their very name and blood are lost in those of another race, and their lands given to another; but still in the green valley of the Algersius rise the gray walls of a remnant of St. Oren's abbey to propitiate the mercy of God in behalf of Count Bernard and his lady Emerina, and still for them and their posterity goes up from the nuns in choir the daily "_Oremus pro benefactoribus nostris!_"

Last evening I went to the cathedral to hear Hermann improvise upon the organ, or, I should say, Frère Augustin, for he is a barefooted Carmelite monk. He was the favorite pupil of Liszt, under whose instructions he became a celebrated musical artist and composer. He was miraculously converted at Paris some years since, by some particular emanation from the blessed sacrament, the full particulars of which he has never given. "_Secretun meum mihi_," he says, when speaking of it. He had gone to church, at the request of a Christian friend, to play on the organ. His conversion was succeeded by the desire of becoming a monk, that he might daily receive our Lord in the blessed sacrament, to which, from the first, he felt the most tender devotion. He now belongs to a monastery in Agen. You should have heard him last night, as I did, amid a crowd of all ranks. I do not enjoy music scientifically, but it gives expression to a thousand emotions and desires which are floating in the soul, and which the tongue knows not how to express. That of Hermann partakes of the enthusiasm and tenderness of his nature.

I stationed myself at the baptismal font, that I might see the frère as he came down from the tribune. He was dressed in the costume of his order, which is of the natural color of the wool. His cowl was thrown back. His head was shaven closely with the exception of a circlet of hair, as we see in pictures. He is an Israelite and his features are of the Jewish type, but not too strongly marked. His face was pale. In fact, he is out of health and on his way to a place of rest. His manner was refined but unpretending, and he seemed quite unconscious of the curiosity and interest displayed by the crowd. {845} He is a poet as well as musician, and some of his _cantiques_ in honor of the blessed sacrament are very beautiful, particularly the one entitled _Quam dilecta Tabernacula Tua!_ I quote two verses from it:

"Ils ne sont plus les jours de larmes: J'ai retrouvé la paix du coeur Depuis que j'ai goûté les charmes Des tabernacles du Seigneur!

"Trop long-temps, brebis fugitive, Je m'eloignai du Bon Pasteur. Aujourd'hui, colombe plaintive, Il l'appelle--il m'ouvre Son Coeur!"

A friend sent me this morning a pamphlet containing the dedication of a collection of his hymns, which is a flame of love. I give you an extract, which is only the echo of my own heart:

"O adorable Jesus! as for me, whom thou hast led into solitude to speak to my heart--for me whose days and nights glide deliciously away in heavenly communications with thy adorable presence; between the remembrance of the communion of to-day and the hope of the communion of to-morrow, I embrace with transport the walls of my cherished cell, where nothing distracts my only thought from thee; where I breathe only love for thy divine sacrament. ... If the church did not teach me that to contemplate thee in heaven is a still greater joy, I should never believe there could be more happiness than I experience in loving thee in the holy eucharist, and in receiving thee in my heart, so poor by nature but so rich through thy grace!"

To Be Concluded Next Month.

The New Englander On The Moral Aspects Of Romanism.

In _The Catholic World_ of April last, we vindicated the fair fame of the Catholic Church from some foul aspersions of a Protestant minister, the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, contained in a book of his entitled, _Nights among the Romanists_.

The matter was a very simple one. This reverend gentleman, in the opening chapter of his book, gave us the "moral results of the Romish System," as he elegantly, in accordance with the exigencies of modern controversy, styles the Catholic Church. This "moral result" was, that Catholics are, everywhere, beyond comparison, more unchaste than Protestants--say from three or four to twelve times as much so. We do not exaggerate in the least. Every reader who reads this book will draw this conclusion. As _The New Englander_ says, "The effect of this exhibit on the mind of the reader is overwhelming. To the Protestant reader it serves to close the case, at the outset, against the pretensions of the Roman Catholic Church to be the institution ordained of Christ to destroy the works of the devil."

This conclusion was reached by a comparison of the statistics of many Roman Catholic countries of Europe with Protestant England, in regard to homicide.

Then by comparing the amount of illegitimacy in certain Catholic _cities_ with that in certain other Protestant _cities_ in Europe. Passing by the first branch of the subject for reasons which we assigned, and which prevent us from taking up the matter now, we considered the second very fully and completely. We examined, with the utmost care and fidelity, the statistics of illegitimacy of all the leading countries of Europe, including the whole population of both city and country, and found Mr. Seymour's conclusions, in this respect, were utterly and completely false. {846} The complete exhibit showed that, taking the number of illegitimate births as a standard of comparison, Catholic countries are not in any degree more unchaste than Protestant, but, on the contrary, the difference is in their favor quite decidedly, though not with that overwhelming preponderance claimed by Mr. Seymour in favor of Protestantism.

He states that he has taken his figures from official documents, (and we have not disputed this,) but these same documents give the account for the countries as well as for the cities, and Mr. Seymour cannot be allowed to plead ignorance in reference to them. He cannot, therefore, be excused from wilful and deliberate deception, when he suppresses these statistics so necessary to form a judgment in the case, and only gives such portions of them as shall seem to sustain a false conclusion. This is the true _suppressio veri_ and _suggestio falsi_, which is certainly one of the meanest and most cowardly forms of lying known.

We felt a natural indignation at being made the victims of such treatment, and denounced the Rev. Mr. Seymour as a calumniator, and called on the Rev. L. W. Bacon, who had warmly recommended him and his book, to withdraw his recommendation, and cease to abet the circulation of a vile calumny, even though the Catholic Church were the object of it.

Mr. Bacon, in reply to our article, comes out in _The New Englander_, endorsing not only the statements, but the unjust and wicked conclusions of Mr. Seymour, and claims to have refuted the statements of _The Catholic World_. We will now proceed to show in what fashion he has done this.

The conclusions of Mr. Seymour in regard to the "moral results of the Romish system," rest mainly in a comparison of the city of London with the capitals of four Catholic countries, showing that while the rate of illegitimacy is only 4 per cent in the former, it varies from 33 to 51 per cent in the latter. This is reinforced by tables of ten Prussian cities (of which, by the by, the best two are Catholic cities) with ten Austrian; another of five English cities with the same number of Italian, with similar, though by no means such striking results. Then, lest countries should seem to get the go-by, various Protestant countries are compared with provinces of the Austrian empire, which, it is needless to say, make a bad show in the comparison.

As we have said before, we did not impugn in _The Catholic World_ the accuracy of these figures, but we pointed out that we could not trust them as indicating the morality of London, Liverpool, and the English cities, because the rate of illegitimacy in them was lower than in the whole of England; and it is a most violent and incredible supposition, that cities acknowledged to be the hotbeds of vice should be purer than the countries in which they are situated. We suggested that other forms of impurity had probably replaced illegitimacy, and that, after all, London, Liverpool, etc., were not much, if any, better than the continental cities. We quoted some figures in reference to the amount of what is called the "social evil" in London, etc., from _The Church and the World_, a ritualistic journal. This, and this alone, Mr. Bacon attacks, of all that is contained in our article. Our other reasons in regard to the morality of London, etc., are left entirely unnoticed. We gave also some, as we conceived, very grave and strong reasons why the figures of illegitimacy should not be regarded as conclusive in regard to the continental cities. {847} We pointed out the existence of very large establishments in them for the reception of foundlings, receiving all infants deposited in them; and suggested that, for this reason alone, the illegitimacy of whole districts of country would all show itself in the city. This is obvious enough; for example, if a large hospital of this kind existed in New York City, no one doubts it would receive infants from New Jersey, Connecticut, and all the adjacent country, and the rate of illegitimacy would represent all this part of the country, rather than the city alone. Mr. Bacon has not vouchsafed to give one word of reply to all this, or to discuss the matter at all. Now, as it concerns the good name of a large class of his fellow-men, and is evidence in rebuttal of a very grave accusation against them, this really seems more like the conduct of a partisan determined on victory at any rate, rather than of a Christian gentleman seeking to vindicate a fellow-Christian from an imputation against his character.

But whatever might be said about the comparative morality of certain cities, we vindicated the Catholic Church from the charge of having produced a moral result incomparably worse than Protestantism, and completely destroyed the overwhelming effect calculated to be produced on the Protestant mind by Mr. Seymour's conclusions, by giving one complete table of the percentage of illegitimacy in all the chief countries of Europe, both Protestant and Catholic, as follows:

_Catholic Countries._ 1825-37, Kingdom of Sardinia, 2.1 1859, Spain, 5.6 1853, Tuscany, 6. 1858, Catholic Prussia, 6.1 1859, Belgium, 7.4 1856, Sicily, 7.4 1858, France, 7.8 1851, Austria, 9.

_Protestant Countries._ 1859, England and Wales, 6.5 1855, Norway, 9.3 1858, Protestant Prussia, 9.3 1855, Sweden, 9.5 1855, Hanover, 9.9 1866, Scotland, 10.1 1855, Denmark, 11.5 1838-47, Iceland, 14. 1858, Saxony, 16. 1857, Wurtemberg, 16.1

Every item of which was taken by ourselves, after a patient and minute examination, from the _Journals of the Statistical Society of London_, in the Astor Library, taking the latest accounts of each country in every case.

Here the whole question lies in a nut-shell. As Mr. Bacon says, "the criterion is in the number of illegitimate births." This table gives a complete view of this criterion, and therefore it requires to be refuted before it can be said that any refutation has been made of _The Catholic World_. How does Mr. Bacon meet it?

He does not meet it at all. He says that the figures of _The Catholic World_ are "outrageously false," and "that he shall presently prove it." We have looked in vain for the proof that any figure of this table is either "outrageously false" or false at all. We do not see that he has said one word to bring any of them under even the least shadow of suspicion. We will give the substance of his arguments against the truth of our statements:

1. Mr. Seymour's book appeared, and no answer was made to it for many years, and therefore it must be presumed to be truth, as to its facts and conclusions.

{848}

To this we reply, that it makes no difference what presumptions may exist when they are upset by positive proof. Whether Mr. Seymour has been answered or not, does not change the rate of illegitimacy in any country of Europe in the least. Catholics may not deem it more worth while to reply to Seymour than to the McGavins and the Brownlees. The obviously sinuous and unfair selection of Mr. Seymour's statistics is a sufficient reason for allowing them to slide along with a thousand other calumnies so obviously false as not to be worth the trouble of refuting. However that may be, we have given the refutation, and that ends all the presumptions.

2. Mr. Bacon tries to produce an impression on the minds of his readers that we shall add up and arrange the figures to suit our convenience, and are not to be trusted because we profess confidence, in the outset, of the result of the investigation, on account of our belief that the Catholic Church is the church of Christ.

We will give an extract, that our readers may judge:

"But _The Catholic World_ for April last crushes these formidable allegations with one single stroke of _a priori_ argument: 'We know that she (the Roman Church) is Christ's church, and that just in proportion as she exerts her influence, virtue and morality must prevail; and that it is impossible to prove, unless through fraud and misrepresentation, that the practical working of her system produces a morality inferior to that of any other.' This, of course, is 'the end of controversy.' To go into details of argument would be superfluous, not to say ridiculous, after a demonstration so sweeping. But scorning criticism and ridicule, straightway down into details and figures marches _The Catholic World_. Having at the start announced it as _de fide_ that the figures must be so found and so added up as to show a satisfactory balance in favor of his side, or else the foundations of the faith were destroyed and the hope of salvation cut off, he proceeds to the statistical business with that eminently fair, candid, and philosophical spirit which might be expected to result from such convictions."

The Christian, then, according to the reasoning of the Rev. Mr. Bacon, who, firmly believing in the divinity of the religion of Christ, expresses confidence in the result of any investigation as to the moral result of Christianity, is to be deemed a rascal who will not hesitate to employ any unworthy arts in selecting and adding up his figures so as to make the result come out in accordance with a foregone conclusion. We dismiss insinuations like this with the contempt they deserve. If we have done any thing of this kind let it be proved; if not, do not insinuate it to our prejudice.

3. Mr. Bacon says: "The gist of the article in _The Catholic World_ is taken from one in _The Church and the World_, an ultra-ritualist journal, London, 1867."

This is entirely untrue. The "criterion" of the "moral results of the Romish system" was illegitimacy, and the "gist of the article" is in the comparison embraced in the tabular statement of the Roman Catholic and Protestant countries of all Europe, of which nothing whatever has been taken from _The Church and the World_. We cited the statistics of Ireland from this journal, warning our readers of the fact that we could not verify it out of the statistical journals, and therefore we did not include it in our table, as can be seen by referring to the article itself.

Besides this, nothing is taken on the authority of _The Church and the World_, except some statistics in relation to a side issue, the amount of prostitution in London, and other English cities. Mr. J. D. Chambers, M.A., Recorder of Salisbury, the author of the article in _The Church and the World_, states that there are 28,100 bad women in London, known to the Metropolitan Police, while it should be, that number, in all England, known to the Metropolitan Police. {849} He also gives a table of the number of houses in other English cities _where abandoned women resort_, and this number does not correspond at all with the number of _brothels_ reported by the police. It seems to us that Mr. Chambers may have been misled by the term "Metropolitan Police," in setting down the number of abandoned women to London rather than to England, without attributing to him any wilful falsification. And if these women are so well known to the Metropolitan Police, it may be inferred that, wherever they belong, they must carry on their nefarious occupation in London a good part of the time, and thus Mr. Chambers be substantially correct in his statement, after all. Mr. Bacon roundly asserts that Mr. Chambers has given the number of _brothels_ in the leading English cities. This is incorrect, and, when the object is to fasten a brand of infamy on another's character, an inexcusable proceeding. Mr. Chambers has not given the number of _brothels_, but the number of _houses_ to which bad women resort. There are many such resorts in New York City, which would not be reported as _brothels_ in the police returns.

We wish the public to understand this fully. Mr. Bacon accuses Mr. Chambers of a gross exaggeration in the number of _brothels_ in the English cities. He gives the table as follows:

Brothels in According to CATHO. WORLD in Fact Birmingham 966 183 Manchester 1111 410 Liverpool 1573 906 Leeds 313 63 Sheffield 433 84

and hence deduces that Mr. Chambers is a wilful liar, to be branded as such.

Now, Mr. Chambers never stated the above number of _brothels_ in those cities, but that number of _houses where prostitutes resort_, a very different thing.

We find in _Thom's Almanac_ of 1869 the following table, for England and Wales, of _houses of bad character:_

Receivers of stolen goods, 2230 Resorts of thieves and prostitutes, 5689 Brothels and houses of ill-fame, 6614 Tramps' lodging-houses, 5614

The last three figures may well be added up to give us the number of _houses where prostitutes resort;_ the tramps' lodging-houses, according to Mr. Kaye's description of them, (in his _Social State of England_,) being little better than brothels. The public may now form an intelligent judgment which is the most guilty of misrepresentation, Mr. Bacon or Mr. Chambers, and which most deserves to be branded as a calumniator of his neighbor.

He thus finishes up the unlucky Mr. Chambers:

"The witness is impeached and kicked out of court with a very ugly letter burned too deep in his forehead to be rubbed out. We are glad to acknowledge that _The Catholic World_ is not the guilty author of these impostures, and to express our unfeigned and most willing belief that that every way respectable magazine would be incapable of contriving such tricks."

Alas Mr. Bacon! we fear that in your inconsiderate haste to brand another, the ugly letter will be burned so deep in your own forehead that you will find it very hard to efface it.

4. Having finished up Mr. Chambers in this style, he considers that his refutation of _The Catholic World_ is complete. He says:

"The figures with which _The Catholic World_ attempts to vindicate the superior morality of Romish over Protestant countries, are taken from a discredited and refuted writer in _The Church and the World_... We have given facts enough now to discredit without any particular refutation whatever else of assertion may be contained in the article on the 'comparative morality of Catholic and Protestant countries' in _The Catholic World _ for April, 1869. We do not need to rebut the testimony of this article point by point."

{850}

These facts given relate exclusively to Mr. Chambers and the statistics of prostitution, as we have shown above, and do not affect those relating to the "criterion" of illegitimacy.

The substance--as Mr. Bacon calls it, the gist--of the article of _The Catholic World_ remains as yet intact; it has not even been examined by the critic. Who gave Mr. Bacon the right to say, as he does, that the substance of our article was taken from _The Church and the World?_ There is an unblushing effrontery about this statement which is astonishing. There is nothing in the article to warrant it. Whenever we quoted _The Church and the World_, the reference is made at the foot of the page, and we distinctly state, there, that our figures on illegitimacy are taken from the _Journals of the Statistical Society of London_. Our readers can judge of this proceeding for themselves.

But Mr. Bacon criticises us in severe terms for using these _Journals_, and says:

"If we had been in search of truth, how much easier and better to go to the census returns, and get facts that can be trusted. But when the object is, as with _The Catholic World_, to find figures which shall tally with a conclusion already determined by theological considerations, doubtless it is well to keep clear of authoritative documents, and take only such figures as have been manipulated in a succession of magazine articles, constructed to serve a purpose."

What better authority can we have in this country, on statistics, than the _Statistical Journals of London?_ It is all an idle pretence to speak of getting the governmental returns in any great public library. We hunted for them in the Astor Library, and could not find one of them. The Society of London is composed of Protestants. Mr. Lumley, the author of the principal article on statistics, is probably one too. He has taken his information, he tells us, in regard to Great Britain, from the Registrar's Reports; the others, from reports made to parliament, and from the _Annuaire de l'Economie et de la Statistique_, of Paris. We have not a shadow of reason to doubt either the accuracy or fairness of the returns, or that they have been taken from the best governmental census returns. It would have been more creditable if Mr. Bacon had favored us with a table taken from these same returns, which he says are so easy to be obtained, to show the "outrageous falsity" of our statements, rather than to attempt to refute us by the method of pure insinuation.

We challenge Mr. Bacon or any one else to produce a table of illegitimacy embracing all or nearly all the Protestant and Catholic countries of Europe, from the latest governmental returns, which shall differ essentially from ours, or from which any one may not draw precisely the conclusions we have drawn in respect to the moral results of Protestantism and Catholicity.

This is all we need say on the main issue in question.

We will now explain what was stated about the rate of illegitimacy in Ireland. Had we been inclined to proceed in the unscrupulous manner which Mr. Bacon insinuates in regard to us, we could have given this rate of three per cent from _The Church and the World_ without remark, as it is simply given there among the other figures; but as we could not verify it in the _Statistical Journals_, we said so, in order to warn the public, and we stated that probably Mr. Chambers had access to the Registrar's Report, which we had not. {851} For this, Mr. Bacon pitches into us in this style:

"What will be the amazement of the reader to be informed that there are no 'Registrar's Reports' for Ireland; that the Romish priests and the Romish party have constantly succeeded in preventing, for reasons satisfactory to themselves, any act of parliament for securing such returns from Ireland; and that the supposed 'Registrar's Report' of three per cent of illegitimate births is a mere fiction!"

Hold on, Mr. Bacon! do not go ahead quite so fast. There are Registrar's Reports for Ireland, plenty of them, to be seen in the _Statistical Journals_ in the Astor Library. In Thom's _Official Almanac and Directory_, Dublin, 1869, we read, "The act for the registration of births and deaths in Ireland came into operation on the 1st of January, 1864." Then follows registrar's returns of these for 1864, 1865, 1866, and 1867.

The first return of illegitimate births has just been published. Our supposition was, that these returns were in existence, though not perhaps complete enough to warrant publication, and that they were known in England to Mr. Chambers and others, and this seems to be the truth. The rate for Ireland is 3.8 per cent, not so different from the figure of _The Church and the World_. We take the following from the _Catholic Opinion_, London, June 19:

"Statistics Of Illegitimate Births.

"_The Scotsman_, one of the leading organs of Presbyterian Scotland, gives the following:

"'We come next to a very painful and important point, and shall get away from it as soon as possible. The proportion of illegitimate births to the total number of births, is, in Ireland, 3.8 per cent. In England, the proportion is 6.4; in Scotland, 9.9. In other words, England is nearly twice, and Scotland nearly thrice worse than Ireland. Something worse has to be added, from which no consolation can be derived. The proportion of illegitimacy is very unequally distributed over Ireland, and the inequalities are such as are rather humbling to us as Protestants, and still more as Presbyterians and as Scotchmen. Takings Ireland according to registration divisions, the proportion of illegitimate births varies from 6.2 to 1.9. The division showing this lowest figure is the western, being substantially the province of Connaught, where about nineteen-twentieths of the population are Celtic and Roman Catholic. The division showing the highest proportion of illegitimacy is the north-eastern, which comprises or almost consists of the province of Ulster, where the population is almost equally divided between Protestant and Roman Catholic, and where the great majority of the Protestants are of Scotch blood and of the Presbyterian Church. The sum of the whole matter is, that semi-Presbyterian and semi-Scotch Ulster is fully three times more immoral than wholly Popish and wholly Irish Connaught--which corresponds with wonderful accuracy to the more general fact that Scotland, as a whole, is three times more immoral than Ireland as a whole. There is a fact, whatever may be the proper deduction. There is a text, whatever may be the sermon; we only suggest that the sermon should have a good deal about charity, self-examination, and humility."'

So that, after all, now that the truth is at last out, the "Romish priests and the Romish party" have no reason to be ashamed of it. Probably their reason is best known to themselves; for it would puzzle any one else to devise any earthly reasons why they should oppose the publication of the Registrar's Report, so honorable to the Catholic people of Ireland.

Mr. Bacon is "happy to announce" that, as a result of the attack of _The Catholic World_, a new edition of Seymour's book, with its opening chapter, is soon to appear. So, all the old calumnies and falsehoods are to be circulated with redoubled activity, and the commandment, "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor," conveniently be thrust aside. The statistics of London are to be reproduced, while those of England are kept in the dark. {852} Paris is to be compared with London, to produce, as Mr. Bacon says, "an overwhelming effect on the mind of the Protestant reader," while not a word is to be breathed of England and France. Five Italian cities are still to be compared with five English, to show that the Italian Catholics are four times as depraved as the English Protestants, while the rate of illegitimacy in all Italy is considerably less than that of England.

And the tell-tale official reports of the census of Scotland, of Catholic and Protestant Prussia, are to be passed over in complete silence. The countries of Norway, Sweden, Denmark, are to be offset by provinces of the Austrian empire in which, as we showed in _The Catholic World_, a grinding law of the government hinders us from getting any real knowledge of the statistics of illegitimacy, and while the whole empire shows a rate smaller than any of those different countries. But we are tired of this disgusting enumeration of the fraud and trickery of the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour. The republication of his book cannot hurt us, and only tends to increase the growing distrust on the part of the public of the thousand and one calumnies so unscrupulously circulated concerning Catholics.

We have only to add that _The New Englander_ very appropriately finishes its article against us by bringing out a very infamous falsehood of Mr. Seymour's about the morality of the city of Rome, which we shall not fail to pay our respects to in the next number of _The Catholic World_.

Sick.

My brother, o my brother! how my heart, Uncertain, sad, doth yearn for thee to-day! And my deep soul her earnest prayer doth say, That God not yet will loose the fearful dart; Not yet, sweet mercy, call on thee to part, Prepared so scantily for the long, long way; Nor till his lamp lights with her blessed ray The narrow line along the shadowy chart. Dear Lord, a stranger, far away he lies, Where fevered pestilence about him leers; His breath the yellow death! And yet my cries Are not for that loved body whose weak sighs First warmed _her_ breast--'tis nine and twenty years-- The soul, poor soul 'tis needs these prayers and tears.

{853}

Translated From The Spanish.

How Matanzas came to be called Matanzas. [Footnote 200]

Or, Uncle Curro And His Club.

[Footnote 200: Matanzas signifies murders or slaughters.]

_Fernan Caballero._ Here I am, Aunt Sebastiana, with a fixed intention to make you tell me a story.

_Aunt Sebastiana_. Say that to my Juan, señor; he can tell no end of stories, and when he don't remember them, he makes them to suit himself.

_Fernan_. Here comes Uncle Romance, who, if he wants a cigar and desires to give me pleasure, will tell me the story you have promised me in his name.

_Uncle Romance_. You must know then, señor, that there was once a man who lived gayly, without thinking of to-morrow; and, since to spend, to owe, and not to pay, is the way to the poorhouse, our man soon found himself without _hacienda_, and with but thirty days to the month for possessions, and nothing to eat but his finger-nails. He grew so spiritless that his wife used to beat him, and his children insult him, and say impertinent things to him when he came home bringing no provisions for the house.

He got so desperate at last that he borrowed a rope of his gossip, and went away to a field to hang himself. He had fastened the rope to an olive-tree; but just as he was going to put it around his neck, a little fairy-man appeared to him, dressed like a friar. "What are you doing, man?" said the friar. "Hanging myself, as your worship sees." "So, then, Christian, you are going to do like Judas. Go away from there. It wouldn't be well for you. Take this purse, which is never empty, and mend your fortune."

Our man took the purse, and drew out a dollar, then another, then another, and saw that it was like a woman's mouth, that pours out to all eternity words, and words, and still words, and its words are never exhausted. Seeing this, he untied the rope, wound it up, and started for home. There was an inn on the road; he entered it and began to ask for whatever they had to eat and drink, paying when it was brought; for the innkeeper, seeing him so greedy, would not trust him for all he wanted. He ate so much and drank so much that he fell under the table, and lay there more sound asleep than the dead in Holyfield.

The innkeeper, who had perceived that the purse was none the lighter, told his wife to make one just like it, and while Uncle Curro slept, went and stole the enchanted purse out of his pocket and put the other in its place.

When Uncle Curro woke up, he took the road again, and reached his house more jolly than a sunshiny day.

"Hurrah!" he shouted to his wife and children, "here's money and to spare; our troubles are over."

He put his hand into the purse and drew it out empty; put it in again; but what was there to take out? When his wife saw that, she flew at him and beat him into a new shape.

{854}

More desperate than ever, he snatched the rope and went back to hang himself. He went to the same place, and tied the rope to a branch of the olive. "What are you going to do, Christian?" said the little fairy-man, appearing in the form of a cavalier, in the crotch of the tree. "Hang myself like a string of garlics from a kitchen ceiling," answered Uncle Curro quite composedly. "So you have lost patience, again?" "And if I have nothing to eat, señor?" "' It is your own fault, your fault; but--go away. Take this table-cloth, and while you keep it you will never find yourself without something to eat." Then the little fairy-man gave him a table-cloth, and disappeared among the branches.

Uncle Curro unfolded the cloth upon the ground. The minute it was spread out, it covered itself with dishes, some of them good and the rest better than the king's cook could have made them, if he had tried his best.

After Uncle Curro had stuffed himself till he could hold no more, he gathered up the cloth and set out for his house. When he got as far as the inn, he felt sleepy and lay down to take a nap. The innkeeper knew him, and guessed that he had something valuable; so, as cool as you please, he pulled the cloth away from him, and put another in its place.

Uncle Curro reached home, and shouted to his wife and children, "Come, come to dinner; I'll take it upon me to see that you get your fill this time." Thereupon he undid the cloth, but only to behold it covered with stains of all sorts and sizes.

At him she went. Mother and children all fell upon the poor man at once, and an object of charity they left him.

Uncle Curro seized the rope once more and went off to hang himself. He was determined to do it this time, and the fairy-man was determined he shouldn't. He gave Uncle Curro a little club, and told him that with it he would be able to possess his soul in comfort; for that he had nothing to do but say, "Bestir yourself, little club!" to make all the world run away and leave him in peace, with a wide berth.

Uncle Curro set out for home with the club, as happy as an alcalde with his stick. As soon as he saw the young ones coming toward him demanding bread with insults and impertinences, he said to the club, "Bestir yourself, little club!" and before the words were fairly out of his mouth, it began to deal about it in a way that speedily routed the children. Their mother ran out to help them, but, "_At her!_" cries Curro, "_at her with all your might!_" and with one rap the club killed her.

They gave notice to the magistrate, and presently the alcalde made his appearance with his officers. "Bestir yourself, little club!" ordered Curro, and the club came down on them as if it had been paid at the rate of a dollar a thump. It killed the alcalde, and the others ran away with such might that not one of them had a sole left to his foot. Then they sent a messenger to let the king know what was going on, and the king sent a regiment of grenadiers to take Uncle Curro of the little club.

But, "Bestir yourself, club!" bawled Uncle Curro, as soon as they came in sight, and threw the club in the midst of the files. The club begun its dance upon the ribs of the grenadiers, with a sound like a fulling-mill. It crippled this one's leg, and that one's arm; knocked out one of the captain's eyes, and, in short, the grenadiers threw away their muskets and knapsacks, and took to their heels, in the full belief that the devil was running loose.

{855}

Free from care, Uncle Curro lay down to sleep, with his club hidden in his bosom, for fear that somebody might steal it.

When he awoke, he found himself tied hand and foot, and on the way to prison. They sentenced him to ignominious death. The next morning they took him out of the dungeon, and, when they had caused him to ascend the scaffold, untied his hands. Out he drew his little club, and as he said, "Bestir yourself!" threw it at the executioner, who speedily yielded up the ghost under its blows. "Free that man," commanded the king, "or he'll finish with every one of our subjects. Tell him that he shall have an estate in America if he will leave the country."

Uncle Curro consented, and the king made him lord of lands in the island of Cuba, where he built himself a city, and killed so many people in it with his club that its name was called, and has remained, Matanzas.

Correction Of A Mistake.

The writer of the article on "Spiritualism and Materialism," in the Magazine for August, page 627, says, "The Holy See says the _immateriality_, not _spirituality_, of the soul is to be proved by reason." This is a mistake. The language of the Holy See is, "Ratiocionatio Dei existentiam, animae _spiritualitatem_, hominis libertatem cum certitudine probare potest--Reasoning can prove with certainty the existence of God, the spirituality of the soul, and the liberty of man." The writer wishes us to say that he is wholly unable to account for his blunder; for in writing, he had the words of the Holy See before his eyes, and certainly thought he read _immaterialitatem_; but in re-reading the words since a friend called his attention to the mistake, he finds that the word is plainly printed _spiritualitatem_. Of course the misstatement was wholly unintentional, and whatever in the article rests on it must be withdrawn, and the writer fully and explicitly retracts it.

Yet the writer requests us to say that he thinks the doctrine maintained in the article is not affected by this mistake, blunder, or misstatement. The writer does not question the _spirituality_ of the soul, but maintains that the soul's spirituality, save in the sense of its immateriality, is not provable by reason without revelation. He thinks _immateriality_, in the sense he explains it, covers all that is really meant by _spiritualiy_ in the decision of the Holy See. We certainly do not, by reason alone, know what either spirit or matter is in its essence. We can prove by reason the substantiality, activity, unity, simplicity, indissolubility, and immateriality of the soul, or that it is not matter. Does the Holy See decide that we can do more, or go further? Does the spirituality of the soul, as provable by reason, mean any thing more? If not--and the writer, till better informed, must think it does not--he has erred only in using one word when he should have used another, and mistaking the word actually used by the Holy See. So much the writer of the article wishes us to say for him, which we do cheerfully; for we are well assured of his devotion to the Holy See and his loyalty to the Holy Father.

{856}

New Publications.

Cantarium Romanum, Pars Prima, Ordinarium Missae. Studio et sumptibus Monachorum Ord. S. Benedicti. Conv. St. Meinradi, Ind. 1869. Cincinnati and New York: Benziger Bros.

This publication purposes to give, in modern notation, the melodies of Gregorian Masses; that is, those portions which are common to all masses--the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, with the Responses. We hail this as a step in the right direction, but are forced to find some fault with this volume.

In the first place, we do not find the notation at all in conformity with the Roman Gradual or Missal, and suppose that it is according to one of those numerous "propers" which, in course of time, have been patched up for the use of various particular dioceses and religious orders. The spirit of the church to-day is one which inspires a return to unity in even minor points of discipline, of which the unity of the chant is, in our judgment, not the least. Again, the division of the words, their adaptation to the notes, and the length of notes given, makes horrible work in some places with the accent of the Latin, and destroys the majestic march of the melody. The effeminate sharp reigns supreme, and fancy responses take the place of those given in the Missal.

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Meditations On The Sufferings, Life, And Death Of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Translated from the French by a Sister of Mercy. Part First. Cincinnati: Robert Clarke & Co. 1869.

This is a very excellent book of meditations, well translated, and published in the best style; to be completed in thirteen numbers. The proceeds are to be devoted to the building of a church annexed to the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy, in Cincinnati, to be called "The Church of the Atonement," and to be devoted especially to the adoration of the Sacred Heart of our Lord, in reparation of the injuries and outrages which it suffers from the neglect of tepid Christians and the more open sins of the wicked. The book is one which will be very useful to those who desire to practise meditation, and the object to which the good sisters intend to devote the profits, which we hope they may receive from it abundantly, is one that must commend itself to the heart of every good Catholic. We give them our best wishes for their complete success, and recommend their book most heartily to general circulation.

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An American Woman In Europe. By Mrs. S. R. Urbino. Boston: Lee & Shepard.

A journal of two years and a half sojourn in Germany, Switzerland, France, and Italy, in only 338 duodecimo pages, is, as things go and as people write, really very moderate. It is a simple, straightforward story of what the authoress saw and heard, with a variety of practical information that many Americans on a first European tour might find useful.

There is no affectation of style or sentiment in the book, and the authoress may be said to belong to the realistic school of travellers, who keep a bright lookout for railroad fares, hotel bills, and the prices of things in general.

With disquisitions on art, Mrs. Urbino does not trouble us much, although she admires the works of that queen of Jarleys, Madame Tussaud, whose name she ungratefully prints Trousseau. At p. 228, the authoress indulges in this reflection: "How out of place crosses look in the Coliseum! {857} I cannot see why they were put there, since there are a sufficient number of churches in the city." The good lady does not appear to be aware of the fact that if the cross had not been placed in the Coliseum, we people of the nineteenth century would never have seen the noble ruin of that grand monument.

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Service Manual; for the instruction of newly-appointed Officers, and the Rank and File of the Army, as compiled from Army Regulations, the Articles of War, and the Customs of the Service. By Henry D. Wallen, Brevet Brigadier-General United States Army, and Commander of the General Service Department, Fort Columbus, New York Harbor. 1 vol. 8vo, pp. 166. New York: D. Van Nostrand. 1869.

General Wallen has compiled this excellent manual from the authorized sources, and added to it the fruit of his mature experience and intimate practical knowledge of the subject. The work possesses value, not only as an authentic guide to the young officer in all the details of company, camp, and garrison duty, his relations of subordination and responsibility, and his duties and obligations to those above and below him in the military order, but also is mellowed and animated by a spirit of kindness and good-will, and that genuine characteristic of the good soldier and thorough gentleman to whom duty is honorable, and both command and obedience acceptable for their own sakes and the inherent virtue they imply. This spirit animates this work throughout, and gives to it a character far superior to ordinary dry regulations. General Wallen is well qualified for the task he has undertaken. He is an old and faithful officer, and intimately acquainted with the service in all its branches and ramifications. He served with credit in the war with Mexico, and was one of the pioneers of the settlement of Oregon. Owing to the fact of having been born in Georgia, General Wallen was distrusted during the late war by Mr. Stanton, and ordered to New Mexico. General Grant, who is his life-long friend, as soon as he came into power, ordered him to the East, and did what he could to repair the injury he had experienced from the suspicious disposition of the late secretary of war.

This work is of equal value to soldiers and officers, and will have a tendency to promote that mutual goodwill and cordial sympathy between the two classes growing out of the faithful performance of their respective duties, which we alone need to make our military system perfect, and absolutely invincible in war, as well as an example of honor and fidelity in peace.

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A Report On The Excisions Of The Head Of The Femur For Gun Shot Wounds. By George A. Otis, M.D., Assistant Surgeon and Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel U.S.A. Being Circular No. 2 War Department, Surgeon-General's Office. Jan. 1869. 4to, pp. 141. Washington: Government Printing Office.

It is not our purpose, in calling the attention of the readers of _The Catholic World_ to this work, to enter upon any discussion or details of a purely surgical character, which would be obviously out of place. _The Catholic World_ is essentially _Catholic_, and while strictly and purely so, aims to embrace within the scope of its critical observation every subject of interest and importance to society; and especially to award its cordial praise to those efforts which have for their object genuine science, true humanity, and national and individual honor and intellectual and moral advancement.

The work before us is of the character indicated. In reverting to the public calamities and private miseries of the late war, it is a matter of satisfaction to know that out of the eater has come forth some meat; out of the strong, some sweetness. {858} With the exception of the doubtful advantage of the knowledge which we have gained of our brute strength, some improvement in gunnery, and the familiarization of the public mind with battle, murder, and sudden death, we have reaped no substantial benefit excepting in the department of military surgery. The medical profession gave during the war an extraordinary example of courage, devotion to duty, labor, and self-sacrifice, which we fear is not fully appreciated either by the country or the government. They rose as a body above the political issues involved, and the personal passions evoked, and, acting on the great principle of charity underlying their vocation, saw, in many a sick and wounded man, a friend and brother.

This principle was acted upon on both sides, it was the most humanizing element which entered into the conflict, and aided and seconded the chivalric spirit which animated the graduates of West Point. These two qualities redeemed the late war from utter barbarism.

There was, on the part of the medical officers, an earnest, conscientious, and zealous determination to ascertain the best methods of treatment in all cases, and an ardent desire to relieve suffering, save life, and preserve limbs in the best possible condition for future usefulness. The publications of the Medical Department and the admirable museum collected at Washington bear testimony to the accuracy of this statement, and, while they are a terrible and sickening commentary on man's inhumanity to man, they are also a sublime and beautiful illustration of that power which turns temporary calamities into permanent benefits, and of that humanity and science which are both motives and objects of the profession of medicine.

The reports issued from time to time by the surgeon-general are the concentrated and distilled expression of multitudes of crude and detached observations, carefully elaborated, compared, analyzed, and corrected, till they come to express the precise knowledge and experience of the present day on a given subject.

The portion of this great work before us is prepared by Doctor George A. Otis, Assistant Surgeon and Lieutenant-Colonel U.S.A., and is a model of patient labor, exact knowledge, just discrimination, and acutely intelligent appreciation. It presents all that is known in regard to a class of terrible and exceedingly fatal injuries. The facts, evidence, and opinions are carefully and impartially weighed and estimated, and the conclusions are such as will be accepted by every discriminating surgeon throughout the world.

The voice of the medical profession will, we believe, endorse the opinion which we somewhat apodictically express.

Society and the country owe Doctor Otis a debt of gratitude for his great work, and also the medical bureau which aids and directs his labors. Such works belong to the class of benefits whose value cannot be expressed by human standards. They reflect honor upon the age and country which produce them, and are an invaluable legacy to the future.

We cannot conclude this imperfect notice without expressing the hope that Congress, influenced by the universal sentiment of the country, will give all the material aid required to the Surgeon-General's Department in prosecuting its great and most fruitful labors.

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Silver Jubilee Of The University Of Notre Dame, June 23d, 1869. Compiled and published by Joseph A. Lyons, A.M. Chicago: E. B. Myers & Co.

This is a tastefully gotten-up volume, designed as a "memorial" tribute to the students, past and present, of the University of Notre Dame, in Northern Indiana, on the occasion of the celebration of the twenty-fifth or _silver_ anniversary of the corporate existence of that now large, flourishing, and important Catholic institution of learning. It gives a brief but interesting history of the university, from its humble beginnings, a quarter of a century since, under the zealous and effective labors of the Very Rev. Father Sorin and his well-chosen and able co-workers, to its present wide and ample proportions. {859} This is followed by an account of its internal economy or arrangements; its study, discipline, and amusements; its societies--religious, literary, and others; its library, museum, etc., etc. Sketches are also given of the lives of its presidents, vice-presidents, professors, and teachers, as well as of its alumni, with a full account of the exercises of its recent _Jubilee_ commencement. Altogether, the volume must prove a very interesting and acceptable one to the numerous graduates, pupils, and friends of Notre Dame.

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Nora Brady's Vow, And Mona The Vestal. By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1869.

The first of these stories is of modern times, and the other is of the time of St. Patrick. Mrs. Dorsey, like all writers not to the _Irish manner_ born, makes fearful work with what some persons are pleased to call the _Irish brogue_. This is, however, a small fault, with which we do not wish to quarrel. The stories are presented to the public in a beautifully printed and elegantly bound volume, and will, we doubt not, be welcomed in many an Irish-American household.

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The Way Of Salvation, in Meditations for all times in the year. By St. Alphonsus Liguori. Translated from the Italian by the Rev. James Jones. New York: Catholic Publication Society, 126 Nassau St.

One of the best signs of the present time, and a sign most encouraging to Catholics of all classes and professions, is that books of genuine piety are more and more in demand every day. It was this fact that induced the Catholic Publication Society to bring out in a neat and very convenient form the celebrated _Way of Salvation_, by St. Liguori. It is one of the most popular works of that sainted author; and the mere announcement of its publication is sufficient recommendation.

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The Two Schools. A Moral Tale. By Mrs. Hughs. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.

This book presents in a striking manner the results of two systems of home education. In it we have a vivid picture of the consequences of wealth, recklessly lavished on an only daughter, contrasted with the encouraging way in which the virtue of a much-injured girl triumphs over the designs of base and cunning enemies. The authoress possesses a happy talent of describing persons in an easy and remarkably concise style, and she succeeds in causing her characters to act and speak in a natural manner. The book will be read, by girls especially, with the keenest enjoyment. The conduct of Mary will seldom fail to draw forth their approval, and all readers will agree that this is a good story.

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A German Reader. In Prose and Verse. With Notes and Vocabulary. By William D. Whitney. New York: Leypoldt & Holt.

The text of this Reader has at length reached us; and in regard to accuracy, arrangement, and clearness of type it is all that can be desired. The selections are very good, although many of them have already done service in German educational works. Originality is only claimed for the vocabulary and notes, which have not yet been published, so that we may only remark that the volume will enjoy a very high reputation, if the forthcoming part be prepared with the same attention that has been devoted to the text.

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The Poetical Works Of Samuel Lover. London and New York: George Routledge & Sons.

A most beautiful edition of the beautiful songs of Lover, written mostly, as all know, about love and lovers. Yet not all. We are indebted to him for many charming ballads, of sweetest melody and deepest pathos, to which indeed Lover owes his fame as a poet.

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The Irish Widow's Son; Or, The Pikemen Of Ninety-eight. A story of the Irish Rebellion, embracing an historical account of the Battles of Antrim and Ballinahinch. By. Con O'Leary. Boston: P. Donahoe. 1869.

This book is interesting, and free from the coarseness which is found in so many stories of Ireland. The author has succeeded in producing a readable tale of that epoch in Ireland's history when secret associations became the controlling power of that misgoverned country.

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Essay On Divorce And Divorce Legislation, with special reference to the United States. By Theodore D. Woolsey, D.D., LL.D., President of Yale College. New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.

This book, by one of the first scholars of our country, is a very learned and laudable effort to effect a reform in our divorce legislation. It would require a long and elaborate article to do justice to the work and the subject. At present we can only say that the community ought to thank Dr. Woolsey for the labor he has performed in their service, and which he has done as well as it can be done by one who stands on the Protestant platform.

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THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY has in preparation, and will publish early in October, _The Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac_ for 1870. It will contain the astronomical tables, calendars, a great amount of valuable statistics, as well as several well-written sketches of places and things in various countries. It will be illustrated with over twenty splendid wood-cuts, and will be sold for 25 cents per copy. Orders from the trade should be sent in at once.

P. O'SHEA, New York, has in press, and will publish this season, Lacordaire's _Sketch of the Order of St. Dominic;_

_Memoir, Journal, and Correspondence of Mrs. Seton,_ by Mgr. Seton, in 2 vols. 8vo;

_Love of our Lord Jesus Christ_, by St. Jure, vol. 2;

Library of Good Examples, 12 vols.

John Murphy & Co., Baltimore, announce _A Memoir of the Life and Character of the Rev. Demetrius Augustin de Gallitzin, Founder of Loretto and Catholicity in Cambria County, Pa., Apostle of the Alleghanies._ By Very Rev. Thomas Heyden, of Bedford, Pa.

Patrick Donahoe, Boston, has in press

_Mary and Mi-Ka_, a story of "The Holy Childhood;"

_Five Years in a Protestant Sisterhood, and Ten Years in a Catholic Convent;_

and a _Life of Christopher Columbus._

Kelly, Piet & Co., Baltimore, announce the republication of the Roman periodical, _Acta ex Iis decerpta quae apud Sanctam Sedem geruntur. The Double Sacrifice: a tale of Castelfidardo. The Life of Madame Louise de France, Daughter of Louis XV., in religion Mother Terese de St. Augustin. The Day Sanctified_; being meditations and spiritual readings for daily use.

_Popular Tales_. By Maria Edgeworth.

_Moral Tales_. By Maria Edgeworth.