CHAPTER XXVII.

In our last chapter, Paulus and his Athenian mother had obtained, through Esther's recital of her waking dream or vision, one little glimpse at that prison, that place of detention, which she had termed (as she herself had heard it termed) "the dim, vast house," "the vast, dim city," and the "dim, vast kingdom."

The vague notion she could give of that scene of immurement cannot be expected to prove interesting to so large a number, as Mr. Pickwick has cause to feel an interest in his glimpses of the "Fleet Prison," once famous in London. But such interest as the former house of detention commands is of a different kind, and those who may experience it are a different class. Plato (as a great critic observes) has been translated from age to age into some dozen great modern languages, in order that he might be read by about a score of persons in each generation. But that score are the little fountains of the large rivers that bear to the sea the business of the world. Few are directly taught by Kant, Sir William Hamilton, John Stuart Mill, Cousin, or Balmez; but the millions are taught and think through those whom _they_ have taught to think. Between the good and evil originators or conservators of ideas, and the huge masses who do all their mental processes at third hand, stand the interpreters; and these listen with bent heads, while they hold trumpets which are heard at the extremities of the earth.

Paulus lingered in Jerusalem. Weeks flew by. Spring passed into summer; summer was passing into autumn; and still, from time to time, as, in the evenings, mother and son sat among the flowers on the flat roof, Esther would join them.

One night, she had hardly appeared, when Longinus the centurion followed her, bearing a letter for Paulus, which, he said, had just arrived at Fort Antonio, by the hands of an orderly, from the governor. The letter was from Dionysius of Athens, now _l'un des quarante_, a member of that great Areopagus of which the French Academy is partly a modern image; and it was written immediately after his return from a tour in Egypt, and a cruise through the Ægean Sea, among the famous and beautiful Greek Islands, to resume his duties as a teacher of philosophy and a professor of the higher literature at Athens.

Paulus, after a word with his mother and Esther, desired Longinus to favor them with his company. Sherbets and other refreshments were brought. They all sat down on the semicircular wicker settle at the corner of the roof, under the bower-like branches of the large rhododendron; a small lamp was held for Paulus by the Jewish serving-man, and Paulus read the letter aloud to that sympathetic group. Extracts we will give, in the substance, concerning two occurrences. The first, as the reader sees, the listening circle learned from Dionysius; but _we_ have it in reality from Plutarch, upon whose narrative Eusebius and many other weighty authorities and grave historians have commented.

The captain and owner (for he was both) of the vessel in which Dion sailed back from Egypt to Athens was an Egyptian of the name of Thramnus (some call him Thamus). He said that a very weird thing had happened to him in his immediately previous trip, which had been from Greece to Italy. Dion was at the time at Heliopolis, in Egypt, with his friend, the celebrated philosopher Apollophanes, who, though (like Dion himself) only between twenty and thirty, had already (in this also resembling Dion) obtained an almost world-wide fame for eloquence, astronomical science, and general learning. When Thramnus had neared the Echinades Islands, the wind fell, a sudden calm came, and they had to drop anchor near Paxos. The night was sultry; every one was on deck. Suddenly, from the lonely shore, a loud, strange voice hailed the captain: "Thramnus!" it cried. None answered. Again, louder than human, came the cry, "Thramnus!" Still none answered. For the third time, "Thramnus!" was thundered from the lonely coast. Then Thramnus himself called out: "Who hails? What is it?" Shrill and far louder than before was the voice in reply: "When you reach the Lagoon of Palus, announce then that the Great Pan is dead."

Thereupon, everything became silent, save the sluggish wash of the waves under the vessel's side. A sort of council was at once held on board; and first they took a note of the exact date and the hour. They found that it was exactly the ninth hour of the sixth _jeria_, or day, in the month of March, in the fourth year (according with Phlegon's corrected and checked astronomical chronology) of the two hundred and second Olympiad: in other words, this, being translated into modern reckoning, means, six in the afternoon of Friday, the 25th of March, in the thirty-third year of our Lord.

Dion breaks off in his letter here to remark: "You will learn presently what happened to me and to Apollophanes, and to the whole renowned city of Heliopolis, at the same hour exactly of that same day; and it is the coincidence between the two occurrences which has fixed them so deeply in my mind."

Well; he proceeds to say that Thramnus, having asked his passengers, who happened to be unusually numerous, whether they considered he ought to obey this mysterious mandate, and having suggested himself that, if, on their reaching Palus, or Pelodes, the wind held fair, they should not lose time by stopping, but if the wind were there to fail, and they were forced to halt at that place, then it might be no harm to pay attention to the injunction, and see what came of it, they were all unanimously of his opinion. Thereupon, as though by some design, in the midst of a calm the breeze sprang up freshly again, and they proceeded on their way. When they came to the indicated spot, all were again on deck, unable to forget the strange incident at Paxos; and, on a sudden, the wind fell, and they were becalmed.

Thramnus, accordingly, after a pause, leaned over the ship's side, and, as loudly as he could, shouted that _the great Pan was dead_. No sooner had the words been pronounced than all round the vessel were heard a world of sighs issuing from the deep and in the air, with groans, and moanings, and long, wild, bitter wailings innumerable, as though from vast unseen multitudes and a host of creatures plunged in dismay and despair. Those on board were stricken with amazement and terror. When they arrived in Rome, and were recounting the adventures of their voyage, this wild story sent its rumor far and near, and made such an impression that it reached the ears of Tiberius Cæsar, who was then in the capital. He sent for Thramnus and several of the passengers, as Plutarch records for us, particularly one, Epitherses, who afterward, at Athens, with his son Æmilianus, and the traveller Philip, used often to tell the story till his death. Tiberius, after ascertaining the facts, summoned all the learned men who chanced then to be in Rome, and requested their opinion.

Their opinion, which is extant, matters little. The holy fathers who have investigated this occurrence are divided in their views. It must be remembered that Plutarch relates another truly wonderful fact universal in its range, as being notoriously simultaneous with the singular local adventure above described--the sudden silence of Delphi, and all the other famous pagan oracles, from the 8th day before the Kalends of April, in the 202d Olympiad, at six P.M. At that hour, on that day (March 25, Friday, Anno Domini 33), those oracles were stricken dumb, and nevermore returned answers to their votaries. Coupling these phenomena together, in presence of a thousand other portents, the holy fathers think, one party of them, that the enemy of man and of God, and that enemy's legions, were grieving and wailing, at the hour which Plutarch specifies (the time of evening, and on the very day, when our Lord died), at the redemption just then consummated; others, that the Almighty permitted nature "to sigh through all her works," in sympathy with the voluntary sufferings of her expiring Lord.

"Now, hearken," proceeded Dion in his letter, "to how I was occupied, hundreds of miles away, in Heliopolis, at the time, the very hour of the very day, when so wild and weird a response came from the powers of the air and the recesses of the deep to those who shouted forth, amid a calm on the silent breast of the Ægean Sea, that the great Pan ('the great All,' 'the universal Lord,' as you, my friends, are aware it means in Greek) had died!

"I had gone out, shortly before the sixth hour on this sixth day, to take a stroll in the tree-shaded suburbs of Heliopolis, with my friend Apollophanes. Suddenly, the sun, in a horrible manner, withdrew its light so effectually that we saw the stars. It was the time of the Hebrew Pasch, and the season of the month when the moon is at the full, and the period of an eclipse, or of the moon's apparent conjunction with the sun, was well known not to be then; independently of which, two unexampled and unnatural portents, contrary to the laws of the heavenly bodies, occurred: first, the moon entered the sun's disc _from the east_; secondly, when she had covered the disc and touched the opposite diameter, instead of passing onward, _she receded_, and resumed her former position in the sky. All the astronomers will tell you that these two facts, and also the time of the eclipse itself, are equally in positive deviation from the otherwise everlasting laws of the sidereal or planetary movements. I felt that either this universal frame was perishing or the Lord and Pilot of nature was himself suffering; and I turned to Apollophanes, and, 'O light of philosophy, glass of science!' I said, 'explain to me what this means.'

"Before answering me, he required that we should together apply the astronomical rule, or formula, of Philip Aridæus; after doing which with the utmost care, he said: 'These changes are supernatural; there is some stupendous revolution or catastrophe occurring in divine affairs, affecting the whole of the Supreme Being's creation.'

"You may be sure, my friends, that we both took a careful note of the hour, the day, the week, month, year; and I intend to inquire everywhere whether in other lands any similar phenomena have appeared; and what overwhelming, unexampled event can have taken place on this little planet of ours to bring the heavens themselves into confusion, and coerce all the powers of nature into so awful a manifestation of sympathy or of horror."

He ended by conveying to Aglais and Paulus the loving remembrance of the Lady Damarais.

Aglais and her son and Esther were spell-bound with amazement when this letter had been read; and Paulus exclaimed:

"What will Dion say when he hears that we also saw this very darkness at the same moment; that the veil of the Temple here has been rent in twain; and that he who expired amid these and so many other portents, Esther, and in the full culmination of the prophecies, is again living, speaking, acting, the Conqueror of death, as he was the Lord of life?"

"Let us go to Athens; let us bring our friends, the Lady Damarais and our dear Dion, to learn and understand what we have ourselves been mercifully taught."

So spoke Aglais, offering at the same time to Esther a mother's protection and love along the journey. Paulus was silent, but gazed pleadingly at Esther.

It was agreed. But in the political dangers of that reign, Paulus, owing to his fame itself, had to take so many precautions that much time was unavoidably lost.

Meanwhile, he had again asked the Jewish maiden to become his wife. Need we say that this time his suit was successful? Paulus and Esther were married.

Christianity in the interim grew from month to month and from year to year, and our wanderers had but just arrived at last in Athens in time to hear, near the statue of "the unknown God," while Damarais, the friend of Aglais, and Dion, the friend of them all, stood near, a majestic stranger, a Roman citizen, him who had sat at the feet of Gamaliel, the glorious Apostle of the Gentiles, who had been "faithful to the heavenly Vision," though he had not seen the Resurrection, explain to the Athenians "him whom they had ignorantly worshipped." And when the sublime messenger of glad tidings related the circumstances of the Passion, the scenes which had been enacted in Pilate's house (so well remembered by them), the next day's dread event, and when he touched upon the preternatural accompaniments of that final catastrophe, and described the darkness which had overspread the earth from the sixth hour of that day, Dionysius, turning pale, drew out the tablets which he carried habitually, examined the date of which, at Heliopolis, he and Apollophanes had jointly made note, and showed symptoms of an emotion such as he had never before experienced.

He and Damarais, as is well known, were among the converts of Saint Paul on that great occasion. How our other characters felt we need not describe.

Yielding to the entreaties of their beloved Dionysius, they actually loitered in Greece for a few years, during which Christianity had outstripped them and penetrated to Rome, where it was soon welcomed with fire and sword, and where "the blood of martyrs became the seed of Christians." Esther shuddered as she heard names dear to her in the murmured accounts of dreadful torments.

Resuming their westward course, how Paulus rejoiced that he had in time sold everything in Italy, and was armed with opulence in the midst of new and strange trials! They gave Italy a wide offing, and passing round by the south of Germany, with an armed escort which Thellus (who had also become a Christian, and had, while they were in Greece, sent for Prudentia) commanded, they never ceased their travels till they reached the banks of the Seine; and there, undiscernible to the vision of Roman tyranny in the distance, they obtained, by means of the treasures they had brought, hundreds of stout Gaulish hands to do their bidding, and soon founded a peaceful home amid a happy colony. Hence they sent letters to Agatha and Paterculus.

Two arrivals from the realms of civilization waked into excitement the peaceful tenor of their days. Paulus himself, hearing of the death of Paterculus, ventured quickly back to Italy, in the horrible, short reign of Caligula, and fetched his sister Agatha, now a widow, to live with them. Later still, they were surprised to behold arrive among them one whom they had often mourned as lost to them for ever. It was Dionysius. He came to found Christianity in Gaul, and settled, amidst the friends of his youth, on the banks of the Seine. Often they reverted, with a clear light, to the favorite themes of their boyhood; and often the principal personages who throughout this story have, we hope, interested the reader, gathered around that same Dionysius (who is, indeed, the St. Denis of France), and listened, near the place where Notre Dame now towers, to the first Bishop of Paris, correcting the theories which he had propounded to the Areopagus of Athens as the last of the great Greek philosophers.[5]

One other arrival greeted, indeed, the expatriated but happy settlement. Longinus found his way among them; and as the proud ideas of a social system upon which they had turned their back no longer tyrannized over Aglais or Paulus, the brave man, biding his time and watching opportunities, found no insurmountable obstacles in obtaining a fair reward for twenty years and more of patient and unalterable love. He and Agatha were married.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] If any one should feel astonished at our insisting not only upon the exact day, but the very hour, when certain things occurred, let him or her remember that the calculation of eclipses, passing backward from one to another (as though ascending the steps of a staircase), reaches and fixes the date--yes, the precise minute of day--when incidents took place between which and us the broad haze of twice a thousand years is interposed.

[4] For the rest, in support of the matters we have too briefly to recount, we could burden these pages with voluminous, and some of them most interesting and beautiful, extracts from both heathen and Christian works of classic fame and standard authority; with passages of direct and indirect evidence from Josephus, Phlegon, Plutarch, Saint Dionysius (our own true hero, the Areopagite of Greece, the St. Denis of France) [_ad Apollophanem_, epis. xi., and _ad Polycarpum Antistidem_, vii.]; Tertullian (_Cont. Jud._, c. 8); St. Augustine (_Civ. Dei_, lib. 14); St. Chrysostom (_Hom. de Joanne Baptista_); the Bollandists, Baronius, Eusebius, Tillemont, Huet, and a host of others.... But our statements will not need such detailed "stabilitation," because the facts, being notorious among scholars, will be impugned by no really educated man or thoroughly competent critic.

[5] The Roman Breviary thus speaks of St. Dionysius:

"Dionysius of Athens, one of the judges of the Areopagus, was versed in every kind of learning. It is said that, while yet in the errors of paganism, having noticed on the day on which Christ the Lord was crucified that the sun was eclipsed out of the regular course, he exclaimed: 'Either the God of nature is suffering, or the universe is on the point of dissolution.' When afterward the Apostle Paul came to Athens, and, being led to the Areopagus, explained the doctrine which he preached, teaching that Christ the Lord had risen, and that the dead would all return to life, Dionysius believed with many others. He was then baptized by the apostle and placed over the church in Athens. He afterward came to Rome, whence he was sent to Gaul by Pope Clement to preach the Gospel. Rusticus, a priest, and Eleutherius, a deacon, followed him to Paris. Here he was scourged, together with his companions, by the Prefect Fescennius, because he had converted many to Christianity; and, as he continued with the greatest constancy to preach the faith, he was afterward stretched upon a gridiron over a fire, and tortured in many other ways; as were likewise his companions. After bearing all these sufferings courageously and gladly, on the ninth of October, Dionysius, now more than a hundred years of age, together with the others, was beheaded. There is a tradition that he took up his head after it had been cut off, and walked with it in his hands a distance of two Roman miles. He wrote admirable and most beautiful books on the divine names, on the heavenly and ecclesiastical hierarchy, on mystical theology; and a number of others."

The Abbé Darras has published a work on the question of the identity of Dionysius of Athens with Dionysius, first Bishop of Paris, sustaining, with great strength and cogency of argument, the affirmative side. The authenticity of the works which pass under his name, although denied by nearly all modern critics, has been defended by Mgr. Darboy, Archbishop of Paris.--ED. C. W.

EUROPE'S FUTURE.

FROM THE GERMAN.

To be able to form a correct judgment regarding the future of Europe, there are several points and theories which must be previously considered. First on the list comes--

I.

THE RACE THEORY.

"The key to the success of the Prussian arms in the contest with France is found in the decadence of the Latin and the virility of the German race. The Latin peoples are corrupt; their star is waning; their moral vigor is gone; while the German nations are still young and fresh. German culture, German ideas, German muscle and energy, are taking the place of the decrepit French civilization. The German victories are but the outward expression of this historical process. We are on the threshold of a new epoch in the history of civilization--of a new period which we can appropriately call the German era." Such is the theory which now possesses the German mind, and is expressed in the newspapers, pamphlets, on the railroads, and in the inns all through Germany, with great national self-complacency. Even many Sclavonians and Italians adopt this view. The conquest of the Latin by the Germanic races; the downfall of the former; the world-wide sovereignty of the latter--these are high-sounding phrases which have a dramatic effect and are popular in Germany. But do they express a truth? Are they philosophically and historically correct in view of the actual condition of political and social life? In the first place, what and where are the Latin races about which we have been hearing so much during the past ten years? The southern inhabitants of the Italian peninsula can lay no claim to Latin origin; for it is well known that they were anciently Greek colonies, which have since intermarried with Romans, Spaniards, and Normans. The Lombards of the north of Italy are mostly of Celtic and not of Latin origin, since they inhabit the ancient Gallia Cisalpina. The old Iberians of Spain were not Latins; and they are now mixed with Gothic, Moorish, Celtic, and Basque blood. As for France, its very name imports that the Latins gave a very small contingent towards forming a nation which is certainly of Celtic and German origin, and many of whose provinces are purely of German race, as Alsace and Lorraine. Where, then, shall we find the Latin races?

There are none properly so-called. Looking at the origin of languages, we may, indeed, speak of Latin, or, rather, of Roman nations. In this regard, we may class the Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese, and French together, on account of the Roman element prevailing in their tongues, in opposition to the Scalavonic-German, the Celtic-Anglo-Saxon-Danish-Norman forming the world-wide English, the Scandinavian, and the pure Sclavonic families. Does this theory mean that nations of the same tongue should all be politically and socially united, flourish for a period, and then perish together? Understood in this way, the race theory would have few defenders. It may be true that nations, like individuals, must live a definite period--rise, flourish, and decay. It is true, historically, that every nation has an era of prosperity and an era of decadence. But when we come to the question of universal sovereignty, we may ask, When did the Roman nations ever exercise it? Each of them has had its golden age of literature, art, science, and material prosperity; but none of them has had, for any length of time, the sovereignty of Europe. Not Italy, for instance, unless we go back to the days of old Rome, and then we have not an Italian but a specifically Roman supremacy. Not Spain, for although she exercised great power beyond the ocean, and for a time possessed a preponderating influence in Europe, from the reign of Charles V. to the first successor of Philip II., yet who could call the accidental union of so many crowns on the head of a Hapsburg prince a universal sovereignty for Spain? Lastly, France had her age of glory during the reign of Louis XIV., whose influence, or that of the Napoleonic era, cannot be denied. Yet what gaps separate the reign of the great King from that of the great Emperor! Great as was France under Louis XIV. and Bonaparte, she fell to the second rank of nations during the Restoration and under the July dynasty. As leader in the Revolutionary movement, she has always controlled Europe, even in her periods of political weakness, from the days of the encyclopædists to the present time. Even Germany acknowledges the sway of French literature, politeness, and taste. Victorious Berlin copies the fashions and manners of conquered France, as ancient Rome, after conquering Athens, became the slave of Athenian civilization.

Germany, too, must have already passed the period of her maturity, according to the race theory; for, under the Saxon Othos, under the Hohenstaufens, and Charles V., until the Thirty Years' War broke the strength of the empire, she was superior even to France. Does not German genius in its peculiar walks rule the world now? German science, German music? Does not England, usually considered as belonging to the German race, rule the commerce of the world? And was not her political influence on the Continent until recently all-powerful?

No! political sovereignty can be explained by no race theory. From the fall of the first Napoleon until 1848, England with the powers of the "Holy Alliance," or rather with Austria and Russia, held the first place in European politics. From the beginning of 1848 until the Crimean war, England and Russia were in the foreground; after that war it was France and England; now it is Prussia. These are but examples of the political fluctuations which follow each other in continual change, and are seldom of long duration.

And do not the champions of the German race theory see that there is a laughing heir behind them in the Sclavonic supremacy? Once admitting the race theory, we must confess that the Panslavist argues well when he says: "The Roman nations are dead; the German are on the point of dying. They once conquered the world; their present effort is the last flicker of the expiring light which points out the road to us. After them comes our race, with fresh vigor on the world's scene. Europe's future is Panslavism."

The whole theory is radically false. There are no more primitive races to take the place of the old ones. The Germans are as old as the Romans; or, rather, the Romans were simply Germans civilized before their brethren. Russia alone is young in Europe, but she has nothing new to give us; and physical force, without a new social or moral system accompanying it to establish a conquest, never prevails long. We cannot, therefore, judge of Europe's future by this theory of races.

The power of regeneration must be sought for elsewhere.

II.

LIBERALISM.

One would have thought that the sanguinary war of 1870 should have dispelled the illusions of liberalism for ever. By liberalism, we mean that party which believes in the principles of 1789, whose ideal is to have the middle classes, or _bourgeoisie_, the ruling power, to have society equally divided, to have an atheistical state, and to obtain eternal peace through unlimited material progress, which would identify the interests of nations. Liberalism, rationalism, and materialism are different names for the same system. A state without God, sovereignty of capital, dissolution of society into individuals, united by no other bond than the force of a liberal parliament majority under the control of wealth; material prosperity of the middle classes, founded on gain and pleasure, with the removal of all historical traditions, all ecclesiastical precepts--such is the dream of this "shopkeepers' system." Has not the present war dispelled the dream of happiness arising from mere material prosperity? We doubt it. Notwithstanding the many hard lessons which the liberal school has received since the days of Mirabeau and the Girondins, from the lawyers of the July dynasty to Ollivier, it never seems to grow wiser. It is superficial, never looks into the essence of things. It is in vain to charge the present misfortunes of two great nations on the illiberalism of Napoleon and Bismarck, and thus exalt the merits of liberalism; for liberalism or mere material prosperity was at the bottom of all their plans. From 1789 to 1870, France, with few exceptions, was governed by liberalism; and the revolutions begat the natural consequences of this system in anarchy and military despotism. France during this period has made the most wonderful material progress.

We read lately in a liberal journal that the only remedy for the rejuvenation of states was "the inviolability of the individual, and respect for the popular will." Always the same emptiness of phraseology with these impracticable dabblers in philosophy. What will you do if the infallible "popular will" refuses to recognize the inviolability of individuals? Cannot these gentlemen see that their system merely opens the door for socialism? They take away religion, and teach the epicurean theory of enjoyment; they destroy constitutional forms of government, and base authority on the ever-shifting popular whim. Socialism comes after them, and says, "You say there is no God, and I must have pleasure. I have counted myself, and find that I am the majority; therefore, I make a law against capital and property. You must be satisfied, for you are my teacher, and I merely follow out your principles to their logical consequences."

III.

SOCIALISM.

A new era is dawning. Not a mere political period, but a complete social change, for the actual order of things is disorder, a compound of injustice and abuses. We must have fraternity and equality. Away with the nobles; away with the wealthy classes; away with property; all things must be in common. The happiness of Europe will never be realized until socialism reigns supreme. Such is the socialistic theory. But does not every one see that its realization is impossible, and brings us back to barbarism? The right of property is essential to society. It is contrary to nature to expect that mankind will give up this right to please a whim of drones--a system according to which the lazy and indolent would have as much right to property as the industrious and hard-working. If all is to be common property, who will work, who will strive to acquire, whose ambition will be aroused, whose interest excited for the attainment of something in which he will have no right or title? And in fact, both liberals and socialists use words which they do not mean; they are far more despotic when they get power than those whom they are continually attacking. At the Berne Congress of 1868, a socialist orator said: "We cannot admit that each man shall choose his own faith; man has not the right to choose error; liberty of conscience is our weapon, but not one of our principles!" By error he meant Christianity. In fact, ultra-radicalism is simply ultra-despotism. Men blamed the despotism of Napoleon III.; but look at the despotism of Gambetta, and remember the despotism of Robespierre and the "Reign of Terror." Destroy religion, and you have nothing left but egotism. Man becomes to his brother-man either a wolf or a fox.

Socialism may indeed have its day in Europe's future. The logic of liberalism leads to it; but it will be a fearful day of disorder and revolution; a sad day for the wealthier classes; but still only a day. Earthquakes are possible, and sometimes they engulf cities; but they pass away, and quiet returns. New vegetation springs up on the ruins. If socialism ever gains Europe, it will vanish in virtue of the _reductio ad absurdum_; therefore its mastery can never be permanent.

IV.

THE INTERNATIONAL POLICY OF EUROPEAN STATES SINCE 1789.

Since neither the race theory, nor liberalism, nor socialism, can enable us to solve the problem of Europe's future, let us pass to other considerations, glance rapidly over the past, study the present external and internal condition of the continent, in order to be able to form a judgment on the subject which we are discussing.

The French Revolution of 1789 had its effects all over Europe. In France since that date, liberalism, anarchy, and Byzantinism have held alternate sway. The Bonaparte invasions carried through the rest of Europe the liberal principle of secularization with the _Code Napoléon_. The writings of the philosophers and encyclopædists, and Josephism, had prepared the way. The reaction of 1815 was based on Masonic theories of philanthropism and religious indifferentism. The Emperor Alexander and the Holy Alliance were infected with these views. The revolutionary movement in Germany, Italy, and Spain has since been simply against office-holders and the police. The influence of religion has been ignored. Palmerston was the _coryphæus_ of the liberals, and during his time English diplomacy played into the hands of all the irreligious and revolutionary elements in Europe. This unprincipled system was finally represented by Napoleon III., in whose diplomacy the theory of "non-intervention," of "nationalities," of "sovereignty of the people," were put forward as the types of the perfection of modern society. In point of fact, they are mere words used as a cloak to cover up Macchiavellism.

The "balance of power" theory, of purely material import, ruled in 1815, but it soon gave way before the influences of the "liberal" doctrines of humanitarianism and the race system. Religious convictions and Christian institutions were ignored in politics, and a system of police substituted in their place. Greece received its king in consequence of this system which has prevailed in the external relations of Europe since 1830. In 1848, the revolutions and insurrections in Europe were merely premature appearances of the socialistic element in liberalism. Napoleon III., by his Macchiavellian policy, which Guizot has happily termed "moderation in evil-doing," coerced them. He gave all the sanction of French power to the principles of the liberal school which he was supposed to represent. On the principle of "non-intervention," he prevented the interference of Austria and Spain in favor of the Holy See. He protected the seizure of Naples and Sicily; approved the invasion of the Papal States, and substituted, in the place of dynastic right and popular right, the colossal delusion of the _plébiscite_. On the nationality theory, he allowed Austrian power to be destroyed, and founded, in opposition to all French interests, Italian and German unity.

Although very defective since it ignored the full claims of religion, still there was a fixed public law in Europe from 1815 to 1859. Respect for the minor powers; the sentiment of the solidarity of thrones against the efforts of Carbonarism and the cosmopolitan revolutionary party; and regard for treaties, characterize that period. The traditions of the people were respected; and treaties repressed avarice or ambition; and there was real peace in Europe--the peace of order, according to the beautiful expression of St. Augustine. It is true, far-seeing minds saw the threatening cloud on the horizon of the future, and knew that the system of 1815 did not rest on the right foundations. Still, even mere external forms are a protection.

But since 1859 law or treaties no longer seem to bind. There seems to be nothing fixed in the public law of Europe. All is whim; might instead of right, sentiment instead of principle. Powers can no longer unite, for they cannot trust each other. Instead of all being united to protect the individual state, now all are hostile to each other. Italy insists on unification in spite of law and right, and to gain her purpose depends to-day on Prussia; yesterday, it was on France. She hates Austria, and Austria acts as if she did not perceive the hatred, and will not interfere lest she might offend the liberals. Vienna is in dread of Berlin and St. Petersburg; St. Petersburg is in dread of Berlin. England looks jealously at Russia, who, meanwhile, is arming in grim silence, and with occasional manifestations of her old predilections. France counts now for nothing. Prussia, which fifteen years ago was allowed merely by the favor of Austria to sit in the congress of the great powers, is now the only great military power in Europe. We say military, for it is not the real, the hidden power. As in the Greek mythology grim, inexorable fate ruled above all the gods, so the head lodge of the secret societies makes of the Prussian leaders its blind tools; Italy obeys it; Napoleon was its slave; Austria, its sacrifice; and now Prussia also must bend the knee. Such is Europe ten years after the Franco-Austrian war: the Europe of Metternich, Nesselrode, and Wellington.

V.

THE INTERNAL POLICY OF THE EUROPEAN STATES SINCE 1789.

The revolution has changed the internal policy of states as well as their external relations. Forty years ago, Donoso Cortes remarked that England was endeavoring to introduce its constitution into the Continent; and that the Continent would try to introduce its different governmental systems into England. We are now witnesses of the truth of this observation. Democratic ideas are gaining ground in Great Britain; and bureaucracy, with its centralizing tendencies, is replacing the English theory of self-government. Military conscriptions, along with universal suffrage, will come next. Owing to the extension of the franchise, the House of Commons is losing its aristocratic character, and the House of Lords its influence. England will go the way of France.

We see what the liberal system begotten of the revolution has caused in France. An enervated, un-self-reliant, disunited generation, without traditions, organization, consistency, faith, or true patriotism, is its result. The decrees of the _Code Napoléon_ concerning inheritances have broken up families; the departmental system has destroyed the provincial peculiarities in which lies the people's strength; the system of common lodging-houses for the laboring classes has destroyed respect for authority, and afforded ready material for the purposes of despotism or secret societies.

In Italy and Spain, we see the same spectacle. The French, led into Italy by the first Napoleon, brought thither the principle of centralization and a revolutionary code. After Napoleon's downfall, the restored princes allowed too much of his system to remain. This arose from a want of judgment. The ancient municipalities were destroyed, even to some extent in the States of the Church; Piedmont receiving most of the poison, and thus becoming the hearth of the revolution. Constitutionalism, anarchy, and military governments in Spain prove the working of revolutionary doctrines. The old freedom of that Catholic country, the growth of centuries, gives way before a nominal liberty, but a real despotism.

In Germany, too, centralization carries the day. This country had the good fortune to be composed of several independent states, without any great central power, and the provincial spirit consequently remained strong. But now two un-German words, "unification" and "uniformity," expressing un-German tendencies, are carrying the Germans into despotism. Germany will be Prussianized, and Prussia Germanized, say the unificators; but all will, in the end, be compelled to give way before the republicans and socialists. The high schools of Germany are all infected with the revolutionary doctrines and Masonic ideas.

What shall we say of Austria? Thanks to "liberalism," it has disappeared, and is now a dualism in its government and tri-parliamentary in its system.

The licentiousness of the press helps to destroy everything stable in governments. Journals without principle, honor, or religion, filled with scandals, edited by adventurers, whose only object is to make money and serve faithfully their owners, issue their thousands of copies daily to corrupt the public mind. Evil spreads more rapidly than good, and consequently the influence of the religious press is weak compared to that of the revolutionary papers, subsidized by the agents of secret societies or by the unprincipled men of wealth, who readily purchase the aid of corrupted minds to help on their ambition.

VI.

THE POSITION OF THE CHURCH UNDER THE LIBERAL SYSTEM.

Governments have therefore ceased to be Christian, and have become "liberal," that is, infidel. According to liberalism, religion is the private affair of each individual. Civil society should recognize no dogma, no worship, no God. We know well that this principle, from its very intrinsic absurdity, cannot be practically carried out. For instance, God will be recognized when it is necessary to swear fidelity to a constitution, and the external forms of religion will be invoked at the opening of a new railroad or a session of parliament. But in principle the liberal state ignores all positive religious belief. Its only dogma is that a law passed by a majority of voters remains a law until the next majority abrogates it. This system is called "separation of church and state," or "a free church in a free state." Then follow broken concordats--in France and Bavaria, broken by organic articles; in Baden, Piedmont, Austria, and Spain, destroyed by the will of the prince and cabinet ministers. Then follows a usurped educational system, in which the rights of the family and church are disregarded. In all of these states, more or less, there is a public persecution of the church; a repression of her rights; enthrallment of her ministers; invasion of her privileges. God is in heaven, consequently the church should confine herself to the sanctuary; that is to say, God does not trouble himself about the conduct of nations, politics, legislation, or science. These are all neutral affairs, over which his authority does not extend, and therefore the church has nothing to do with public life. So say the liberals. They take from God and give it to Cæsar, the modern civil divinity, all that is his, except one thing which it is impossible for them to take from him, and that is conscience. They endeavor to estrange conscience from God more and more by education, by the press, and by public opinion manufactured by the leaders of the secret societies. Hence all the talk about "liberty of conscience." For the same end, they talk of toleration, but they mean simply indifference, which hence becomes the shibboleth of the party which the church unceasingly opposes.

This is, in a few words, the actual condition of the church in European society. It is an unnatural condition. Even Macchiavelli says: "Princes and republics which would remain sound must, before all things, guard the ceremonies of religion and keep them ever in honor. Therefore, there is no surer sign of the decay of a state than when it sees the worship of the Most High disregarded." Macchiavelli spoke from the lessons of experience and as a mere utilitarian. Our modern utilitarian politicians have not his capacity or penetration. They are mere superficial observers of fact, and cannot see that the _summum utile_ is the _summum jus_. This fault lies in ignoring the assistance of the supernatural order--in their erroneous opinion that there is no absolute truth. The church is not a hospital for diseased souls; Christianity is not a mere specific for individual maladies; but as our Lord has taught us to pray, "Thy kingdom come ... on earth as it is in heaven," so must revealed truth pervade the earth; percolate through civil society, not merely in its individual members, but in all its natural relations, family, municipal, and state. This is what the church has taught Europe, and only by conforming with this teaching can Europe stand. Since Christianity came into the world, the Christian state is the normal condition of political governments, and not an ideal impossible of realization. Undoubtedly, human weakness will always cause many aberrations from the rule. But the question is not regarding this point, but as to the recognition of the rule. The sin against the Holy Ghost is the most grievous of all sins. Our Lord, always so mild and forbearing toward human passions, is unflinchingly stern against malicious resistance to truth, and this has been precisely the great evil of our time ever since 1789. In the early ages, individuals and nations fell into many errors, but they never touched the sacred principles of religion. Liberalism and Freemasonry have caused the denial of truth itself.

"Must we, then, fall back into the darkness of the middle ages?" Such a question, while it shows little knowledge of the middle ages, exhibits likewise a spirit of unfairness in discussion. For our purpose, it suffices to show the latter. What would we think of a man who, on being told that our faith should be childlike, should say to the priest, "Must I, then, become a child again?" Plainly, we would say to him: Good friend, you talk nonsense; for you know well that you cannot get again your infant body, nor blot out the knowledge and experience acquired in a life of thirty years. But was not the sun the same four years ago as it is now? Do not two and two make four now as long ago? Did you not eat and drink when you were a child as you do now? Some things are always true in all places and times; and therefore we do not want to bring you back into the middle ages merely because we want to give the church that position which God has assigned to her.

"Then you want to saddle a theocracy on the back of the nineteenth century?" Let us understand each other. In a certain sense, a theocracy must be the aim of every rational being. God has appointed two orders to govern men: they are church and state, neither of which must absorb the other. Theocracy is not a government of priests, as those imagine who have before their eyes the Hindoo civil systems. Let us for a moment forget these catchwords, "middle ages" and "theocracy," and go to the marrow of the subject.

The church is the guide of consciences; not the arbitrary teacher of men, but the interpreter of revelation for them. St. Thomas likens the office of the Vicar of Christ to that of the flag-ship of a fleet, which the other vessels, that is, the secular governments must follow on the open sea in order to reach the common haven of safety. Each vessel has its own sails moves in its own way, and is managed by its own mariners. The church never interferes in the appropriate sphere of the secular power. But she warns; she advises; she corrects all civil authority when it deviates from the truth and opposes the revealed order. Her authority over the state is not direct, but indirect; she teaches, but she cannot coerce; she _must_ teach, for political and social questions necessarily have relations with dogmatic and moral subjects. The church must condemn wrongs, no matter by whom perpetrated, whether by states or individuals. This is all the theocratic power the church claims. A Christian state will respectfully hear her warning voice, and thus avoid the danger; while a pagan state shuts its ears, despises the church's admonitions, and plunges into the abyss.

Modern paganism in civil governments has brought Europe into her present miserable condition. Can she get out of it, or is European society hopelessly lost?

VII.

EUROPE'S FUTURE.

The Franco-Prussian war of 1870 is one of the most important events in the history of Europe. The prostration of France is no indication that she will never rise again, for in 1807 Prussia was in a worse condition than France is now. In 1815, and until the past few years, Prussia was last in the list of the great powers, though now she is the first. France, then, in a few years may rise again to her full power. There are no more fresh, uncivilized races to come into Europe to take the place of those which are now said to be decaying. We have shown that liberalism has reached its acme, been found wanting, and is dying. Its efforts in Italy, Spain, Germany, Vienna, and Pesth are but the last convulsions of an expiring system. The natural child of liberalism--socialism--must also disappear before the common sense of mankind. What remains? Will there be in Europe the alternate anarchy and despotism of the Central American republics without any end? Must we despair of Europe's future? No, a thousand times no! We look to the future with hope and consolation.

Common sense and religion will win the day; Christianity has still the regenerating power which she showed in civilizing the barbarians. Christianity has been the principle of national life since the Redeemer established it as a world religion. The spiritual life must be renovated by truth and morality. Christianity is both. We Christians hope, therefore, for the conversion of the popular mind; we begin even now to perceive signs of regeneration, renovation, renewed energy, and vigor in mental convictions and civic virtues.

God's punishments are proofs of his mercy. He chastises to convert. The first punishment of France, in 1789, was not enough to teach her to repent. Louis XVIII. came to the throne a free-thinker instead of a Christian. The prostrate armies of Metz and Sedan are the result of corrupting and enervating infidelity. God chastises ambition and pride in nations as well as in individuals. The Republic has shown itself incapable, because it possessed neither honor, principle, nor religion. The victories of Prussia are a blessing of God for France. The Prussian army is but the instrument which God has used to punish a culprit nation--a revolutionary, irreligious, and frivolous system of government. Victorious Germany, too, will be taught to reflect when it sees the blood of its thousands of slaughtered sons, and the miseries which the war has entailed on its once happy families. Wars teach unruly nations to reflect. Will the present war suffice to humble Europe, and cause her to reflect? We know not; but God will send other chastisements if this one avails nothing. Dark clouds are already rising in the East, which may soon burst over Austria and Germany. The rod of God's anger will be felt by Austria again, for her lessons of 1859 and 1866 have been forgotten. They have only made her throw herself more fondly into the arms of the devil. In Italy, the secret societies will yet avenge on the house of Savoy the blood of the defenders of the Vicar of Christ.

But the German empire has been re-established under a Prussian emperor. Yes, but this is only an episode in the actual crisis of the world. A Protestant emperor of Germany is entirely different from a German emperor. The old German emperors represented the idea of the Christian monarchy; the Protestant emperor in Berlin represents modern Cæsarism. His empire cannot last long, for history tells us that empires of sudden and accidental growth lose rapidly the power which they as rapidly acquired. But is not Prussia's triumph the triumph of Protestantism in Europe? Such a question is easily answered: Protestantism as a positive religion no longer exists in Prussia or elsewhere; and Protestantism as a negation exists everywhere, perhaps more in some Catholic lands than in Prussia. On the battle-fields of Wörth and Gravelotte, the Catholic Church was not represented by France, and Lutheranism by Prussia. Catholic Bavarians, Westphalians, and Rhinelanders fought for Prussia, and would be astounded to hear that they were fighting for heresy. Priests and Sisters of Charity accompanied them to battle. Who, on the other hand, would call the Turcos Catholics? Or the French officers, who never heard Mass, and who curtailed the number of Catholic chaplains to the minimum? Were the French soldiers, who drilled on Sundays instead of going to church, on whose barracks, in some cases, was written, "No admission for policemen, dogs, or priests"--were they the Catholic champions? No; the Christian soldier in France first appeared, in this war, with Charette and Cathelineau in the Loire army, demoralized and destroyed, however, by the mad-cap radical, Gambetta, and his infidel associates. In fact, the Prussian army was more Catholic than the French. The latter must be won back to religion from the enervating influences of Freemasonry and Voltairianism before it can regain its prestige. The only hope for France is in her zealous clergy, in the vigor of the old Catholic provinces, and in her humiliations, which ought to bring repentance.

The rustling of Catholic renovation is heard all over Europe. The rising generation will bring Italy back to the church. The spirit of the Tyrol and of Westphalia is spreading through Germany. The Ultramontanes in Saxony, Bohemia, Steyermark, show the energy of this renovation. The peasantry of Austria and of a large portion of Germany are still uncorrupted. Hungary is steadfast in the faith. The seizure of Rome by the Sardinian robbers has roused the Catholic heart of the world and helped on the cause of regeneration. Where the Catholic faith was supposed to be crushed, lo! it has raised its head defiantly.

The deceived nations want peace, freedom, order, and authority. These blessings infidelity and liberalism have taken away. The people are beginning to see that the old yet ever young Apostolic Church alone can guarantee them. They will turn to Rome, where lives the Vicar of Him who said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life;" to Rome freed again from the barbarians; to Rome become Roman again when it has ceased to be Sardinian; to Rome will the people look for peace and order. It is Rome that tells men that Christ is Lord of the world; that he conquers; that he governs. The social dominion of Christ will again be established. We shall see again Christian states founded on Christian principles and traditions, with Christian laws and rulers. Whether these rulers will be kings or presidents we know not; but they will in either case consider themselves as mere delegates of Jesus Christ, and of his people, not as Byzantine despots or representatives of mob tyranny. They will understand that statesmanship does not consist in giving license to the wicked[6] and forging chains for the good. We shall have Christian schools, Christian universities, Christian statesmen. Ye liberals in name, well may ye grow pale! The future of the world belongs to the principles of the Syllabus, and this future is not far off. We conclude with the words of Count de Maistre: "In the year 1789, the rights of man were proclaimed; in the year 1889, man will proclaim the rights of God!"

FOOTNOTE:

[6] "The art of governing men does not consist in giving them license to do evil."--_Père Lacordaire._

BISHOP TIMON.[7]

We hope the day may come before many years when historians will see in the records of the struggles, misfortunes, and triumphs of the church a theme for the employment of brilliant pens as tempting as they now find in the clash of armies and the intrigues of statesmen. Scholars have devoted to our records the patient investigation of years; the general history of the church has been summarized for popular reading in most of the principal modern languages; and for the use of theologians and students there are elaborate and costly collections. Individual biographies of saints and preachers innumerable have been written for the edification of the devout. Sketches of local church history, more or less complete, have occasionally appeared--sketches, for instance, like _The Catholic Church in the United States_, by De Courcy and Shea; Shea's _History of the Catholic Missions_ among the Indian tribes of America, and Bishop Bayley's little volume on the history of the church in New York. But a work of a different kind, broader in its design than some of these excellent and useful publications, more limited in scope than the dry and costly general histories, still awaits the hand of a polished and enthusiastic man of letters. Why should not the same eloquence and learning be devoted to the religious history of the great countries of the globe that Macaulay, and Motley, and Froude have expended upon the political revolutions of states and the intricate dramas of diplomacy? Why should not some glowing pen do for the pioneers of the cross what Prescott did for the pioneers of Spanish conquest in the new hemisphere? Properly told, the church history of almost any country of the world, of almost any period in Christian times, would be a narrative not only of religious significance, but of thrilling interest. No men ever passed through more extraordinary adventures, considered even from a human point of view, than the missionaries who penetrated into unknown lands or first went among unbelieving nations. No contest between hostile kingdoms or rival dynasties ever offered a more tempting theme for dramatic narrative and glowing description than the contest which has raged for eighteen centuries and a half, between the powers of light and the powers of darkness, in all the different quarters of the civilized world. Think what a brilliant writer might make of such a subject as the church history of Germany! Think what has yet to be done for the churches of England and Ireland and France, when the coming historian rescues their chronicles from the dusty archives of state and the gloom of monastic libraries, and causes the old stories to glow with a new light, such as Gibbon threw upon the records of the declining empire!

We doubt not the literary alchemist _will_ come in time, and melt down the dull metals in his crucible, and pour out from it the shining compound which shall possess a popular value a hundredfold beyond that of the untransmuted materials. Nowhere, perhaps, will the labor be more amply repaid than in America. Nowhere will the collection of materials be less arduous and the result more brilliant. Our church history begins just when that of Europe is most perplexing, and to an investigator with time, patience, and a moderate revenue at his command, it offers no appalling difficulties. In a great part of America, the introduction of the Catholic religion is an event within the memory of men still living. The pioneers of many of the states are still at work. The first missionaries of some of the most important sees are but just passing to their reward. There are no monumental slanders upon our history to be removed; no Protestant writers have seriously encumbered the field with misrepresentations. Industrious students of our own faith have already prepared the way; scattered chapters have been written with more or less literary skill; the store-houses of information have been discovered and partly explored; and every year the facilities for the historian are multiplied. And certainly the theme is rich in romantic interest and variety. From the time of the monks and friars who came over with the first discoverers of the country down to the present year of our Lord, when missionaries are perilling their lives among the Indians of the great West, and priests are fighting for the faith against the cultivated Protestants of the Atlantic cities, the Catholic history of the United States has been a series of bold adventures, startling incidents, and contests of the most dramatic character. In the whole story there is not a really dull chapter. The Catholic annals of America abound also with that variety which the historian needs to render his pages really attractive; and among the great men who would naturally be the central figures of such a work, there is the widest difference of character, the most picturesque divergence of pursuits and personal peculiarities. Group together the most distinguished of the Christian heroes who have illustrated our chronicles, and you have what an artist might call a wonderfully rich variety of coloring. There are the simple-minded, enthusiastic Spanish Franciscans, following the armies of Cortez and Pizarro, and exploring the strange realms of the Aztecs and the Incas. There is the French Jesuit, building up his Christian empire among the Indians of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lakes. There is the gentle Marquette, floating in his bark canoe down the mighty river with whose discovery his name will ever be associated, and breathing his last in the midst of the primeval wilderness. There are Jogues and Brebœuf, suffering unheard-of torments among the Iroquois; Cheverus, the polished and fascinating cardinal, winning the affection of the New England Puritans; England, conciliating the Huguenots and Anglicans of the South. The saintly Bruté, most amiable of scholars, most devout of _savans_, is a quaint but beautiful character around whom cluster some of our most touching associations. Bishop Dubois, the "Little Bonaparte" of the Mountain; Gallitzin, the Russian prince who hid the lustre of his rank among the log-cabins of the Alleghanies; Hughes, the great fighting archbishop, swinging his battle-axe over the heads of the parsons; De Smet, the mild-mannered but indomitable missionary of the Rocky Mountains--these are specimens of our leaders whose place in history has yet to be described by the true literary artist. Several have been made the subject of special biographies, but none have yet appeared in their true light as the central figures of an American church history.

The book which suggests these remarks is a contribution of materials for the future historian, and as such we give it a cordial welcome. Mr. Deuther, it is true, is not a practised writer, and is not entirely at his ease in the use of our language. But he has shown great industry in the collection of facts, and has rescued from oblivion many interesting particulars of the early career of Bishop Timon in a part of the United States whose missionary history is very imperfectly known. Thus he has rendered an important service to Catholic literature, and earned full forgiveness for the literary offences which impair the value of his book as a biography. The episcopacy of the estimable man whose life is here told was not an especially eventful one, and except in one instance attracted comparatively little public notice. The most conspicuous men, however, are not always the most useful. Bishop Timon had a great work to perform in the organization and settlement of his new diocese, and he did it none the less efficiently because he labored quietly. The best known incident of his official life--the lamentable contest with the trustees of the Church of St. Louis in Buffalo--is not one which Catholics can take any satisfaction in recalling; but it had a serious bearing upon the future of the American Church, and its lessons even now may be reviewed with profit. Bishop Kenrick in Philadelphia, Bishop Hughes in New York, and Bishop Timon in Buffalo have between them the honor, if not of destroying a system which had done the church incalculable injury, at least of extracting its evil principle. Mr. Deuther gives the history of this warfare at considerable length, and with an affluence of documents which, though not very entertaining to read, will be found convenient some time or another for reference. We presume that most people will be interested rather in the earlier chapters of the biography, and to these we shall consequently give our principal attention.

John Timon was of American birth but Irish parentage. His father, James, emigrated from the county Cavan in the latter part of 1796 or the beginning of 1797, and settled at Conewago,[8] in Adams County, Pennsylvania, where, in a rude log-house, the subject of this biography was born on the 12th of February, 1797, the second of a family of ten children. The father and mother seem to have been remarkably devout people, and from an anecdote related by Mr. Deuther we can fancy that the lavish beneficence which characterized the bishop was an hereditary virtue in the family. Mr. James Timon called, one day, upon a priest whom he had known in Ireland, and, taking it for granted that the reverend gentleman must be in want of money, he slipped into his hand at parting a $100 bill, and hurried away. The priest, supposing Mr. Timon had made a mistake, ran after him, and overtook him in the street. "My dear friend," said the generous Irishman, "it was no mistake. I intended it for you." "But," said the clergyman, "I assure you I am not in want; I do not need it." "Never mind; there are many who do. If you have no use for the money yourself, give it to the poor." The Timon family removed to Baltimore in 1802, and there John received his school education, such as it was. As soon as he was old enough, he became a clerk in a dry-goods shop kept by his father; and Mr. Deuther prints a very foolish story to the effect that he was so much liked by everybody that by the time he was nineteen "he had become a toast for all aged mothers with marriageable daughters," and had refused "many eligible and grand offers of marriage," which we take the liberty of doubting. From Baltimore the family removed, in 1818, to Louisville, and thence in the following spring to St. Louis. Here prosperity at last rewarded Mr. Timon's industry, and he accumulated a considerable fortune, only to lose it, however, in the commercial crisis of 1823. In the midst of these pecuniary misfortunes, John Timon suffered a still heavier loss in the death of a young lady to whom he was engaged to be married. Mr. Deuther's apology for mentioning this incident--which he strangely characterizes as an "undeveloped frivolity" in the life of a bishop of the church--is entirely superfluous; he would have been a faithless biographer if he had not mentioned it. We may look upon it as a manifestation of the kindness of divine Providence, which called the young man to a higher and more useful life, and designed first to break off his attachment to all the things of this world. He heard and obeyed the call, and, in the month of April, 1823, became a student of the Lazarists at their preparatory seminary of St. Mary's of the Barrens, in Perry County, Missouri, about eighty miles below St. Louis.

The Lazarists, or Priests of the Mission, had been introduced into the United States only six years before, and their institutions, founded, with great difficulty, in the midst of a poor and scattered population, were still struggling with debt and discouragement. The little establishment at the Barrens was for many years in a pitiable condition of destitution. When Mr. Timon entered as a candidate not only for the priesthood, but for admission to the congregation, it was governed by the Rev. Joseph Rosati, who became, a year later, the first Bishop of St. Louis. The buildings consisted of a few log-houses. The largest of them, a one-story cabin, contained in one corner the theological department, in another the schools of philosophy and general literature, in a third the tailor's shop, and in the fourth the shoemaker's. The refectory was a detached log-house; and, in very bad weather, the seminarians often went to bed supperless rather than make the journey thither in search of their very scanty fare. It was no uncommon thing for them, of a winter's morning, to rise from their mattresses, spread upon the floor, and find over their blankets a covering of snow which had drifted through the crevices of the logs. The system upon which the seminary was supported was the same that prevails at Mount St. Mary's. For three hours in the day the students of divinity were expected to teach in the secular college connected with the seminary, and for out-of-door exercise they cut fuel and worked on the farm. Mr. Timon, in spite of these labors, made such rapid progress in his studies that, in 1824, he was ordained sub-deacon, and began to accompany his superiors occasionally in their missionary excursions.

They lived in the midst of spiritual destitution. The French pioneers of the Western country had planted the faith at St. Louis and some other prominent points, but they had left few or no traces in the vast tracts of territory surrounding the earlier settlements, and to most of the country people the Roman Catholic Church was no better than a sort of aggravated pagan imposture. Protestant preachers used to show themselves at the very doors of the churches and challenge the priests to come out and be confuted. Wherever the Lazarists travelled, they were looked at with the most intense curiosity. Very few of the settlers had ever seen a priest before. The Catholics, scattered here and there, had generally been deprived, for years, of Mass and the sacraments, and their children were growing up utterly ignorant of religion. Mr. Timon was accustomed to make a regular missionary circuit of fifteen or twenty miles around the Barrens in company with Father Odin, afterward Archbishop of New Orleans. The duty of the sub-deacon was to preach, catechise, and instruct. Sometimes they had no other shelter than the woods, and no other food than wild berries. At a settlement called Apple Creek, they made a chapel out of a large pig-pen, cleaning it out with their own hands, building an altar, and so decorating the poor little place with fresh boughs that it became the wonder of the neighborhood. In 1824, Messrs. Odin and Timon made a long missionary tour on horseback. Mr. Deuther says they went to "New Madrid, _Texas_," and thence as far as "the Port of Arkansas." New Madrid, of course, is in Missouri, and the Port of Arkansas undoubtedly means Arkansas Post, in the State of Arkansas, which could not very well be reached by the way of Texas. Along the route they travelled--where they had to swim rivers, flounder through morasses, and sleep in the swamps--no priest had been seen for more than thirty-five years. Their zeal, intelligence, graceful and impassioned speech, and modest manners, seem to have made a great impression on the settlers. They had the satisfaction of disarming much prejudice, receiving some converts, and administering the sacraments; and, after an interesting visit to an Indian tribe on the Arkansas River, they returned to the Barrens. About this time (in 1825), Mr. Timon was promoted to the priesthood and appointed a professor at the seminary. His missionary labors were now greatly increased. Mr. Deuther tells some interesting anecdotes of his tours, which curiously illustrate the state of religion at that time in the West. One day, Father Timon was summoned to Jackson, Missouri, to visit a murderer under sentence of death. With some difficulty he got admission to the jail, but a crowd of men, led by a Baptist minister named Green, who was also editor of the village newspaper, entered with him. The prisoner was found lying on a heap of straw and chained to a post. The hostile mob refused to leave the priest alone with him; but, in spite of their interference, Father Timon succeeded in touching the man's heart and preparing him for the sacraments. While they were repeating the Apostles' Creed together, the minister pushed forward and exclaimed, "Do not make the poor man lose his soul by teaching him the commandments of men!" and this interruption was followed by a violent invective against Romish corruptions.

"Mr. Green," said the priest, "not long ago, I refuted all these charges before a public meeting in the court-house of this village, and challenged anybody who could answer me to stand forth and do so. You were present, but you made no answer. Surely this is no time for you to interfere--when I am preparing a man for death!"

Mr. Green's only reply was a challenge to a public controversy next day, which Father Timon immediately accepted. The minister then insisted upon making a rancorous polemical prayer, in the course of which he said: "O God of mercy! save this man from the fangs of Antichrist, who now seeks to teach him idolatry and the vain traditions of men."

"Gentlemen," exclaimed the priest to the crowd which now filled the dungeon, "is it right that, in a prayer to the God of charity and truth, this man should introduce a calumny against the majority of Christians?"

How far the extraordinary discussion might have gone it would be hard to guess, had not the sheriff turned everybody out and locked the jail for the night. The next morning, the debate took place according to agreement, the district judge being appointed moderator. After about three or four hours' speaking, Mr. Green gave up the battle and withdrew. Father Timon kept on for an hour and a half longer, and the result is said to have been a great Catholic revival in the community. The prisoner, who had steadily refused to accept the ministrations of any but a Catholic clergyman, was baptized immediately after the debate.

On another occasion, Father Timon carried on a debate with a Protestant clergyman--apparently a Methodist--in the court-house at Perryville. The Methodist was easily worsted, but there was soon to be a conference meeting some eighteen miles off, and there he felt sure the priest would meet his match.

"Do you mean this as a challenge?"

"No; I don't invite you. I only say you can go if you choose."

Father Timon refused to go under these circumstances; but, learning afterward that a rumor was in circulation that he had pledged himself to be on the ground, he changed his mind, and reached the scene of the meeting--which was in the open air--just after one of the preachers had finished a discourse on Transubstantiation and the Real Presence. "There is a Romish priest present," this orator had said, "and, if he dares to come forward, the error of his ways will be pointed out to him." So Father Timon mounted a stump, and announced that in a quarter of an hour he would begin a discourse on the Real Presence. This was more than the ministers had bargained for. They had been confident he would not attend. They surrounded him, in considerable excitement, and declared that he should not preach. Father Timon appealed to the people, and they decided that he should be heard. He borrowed a Bible from one of his adversaries, and with the aid of numerous texts explained and supported the Catholic doctrine. The discussion was long and earnest. The preachers at last were silenced, and Father Timon continued for some time to exhort the crowd and urge them to return to the true church. Which was, to say the least, a curious termination for a Methodist conference meeting.

One of the most serious difficulties which the pioneer missionaries had to encounter was the want of opportunities of private converse with people whose hearts had been stirred by the first motions of divine grace. The log-dwellings of the settlers rarely contained more than one room, and that often held a pretty large family. Many anecdotes are told of confessions made among the cornstalks in the garden, or under the shadow of the forest, or on horseback in the lonely roads. On one occasion Father Timon had been summoned a long distance to visit a dying man. The cabin consisted of a single room. When all was over, the wife of the dead man knelt beside the body and made her confession, the rest of the family and the neighbors, meanwhile, standing out-doors in the rain. Then the widow was baptized into the church, and, as the storm was violent and the hour past midnight, Father Timon slept on the bed with the corpse, while the rest of the company disposed themselves on the floor.

Ten years had been passed in labors of this kind, when, in 1835, letters arrived from Paris, erecting the American mission of the Lazarists into a province, and appointing Father Timon visitor. He accepted the charge with great reluctance and only after long hesitation. It was indeed a heavy burden. The affairs of the congregation were far from prosperous. The institution at the Barrens was deeply in debt. The revenues were uncertain. The relations between the seminary and the bishop were not entirely harmonious. Several priests had left the community, and were serving parishes without the permission of their superiors. To restore discipline would be an invidious task on many accounts. But, having undertaken the office, Father Timon did not shrink. He saved the college and seminary from threatened extinction; he brought back his truant brethren; he revived the spirit of zeal and self-sacrifice; he restored harmony; he greatly improved the finances. In a short time, he made a visit to France, and returned with a small supply of money and a company of priests. On Christmas Eve, in 1838, he sailed for Galveston, in order to make a report to the Holy See upon the condition of religion in the republic of Texas. He found the country in a sad state of spiritual destitution. The only priests were two Mexicans at San Antonio, who lived in open concubinage. There were no churches. There were no sacraments. Even marriage was a rite about which the settlers were not over-particular. Father Timon did what little he could, on a hurried tour, to remedy these evils; but a year or two later he came back as prefect apostolic, accompanied by M. Odin, and now he was able to introduce great reforms. Congregations were collected, churches begun in all the largest settlements, and the scandals at San Antonio abated. Firm in correction, but gracious in manner, untiring in labors, insensible to fear, making long journeys with a single companion through dangerous Indian countries, struggling through swamps, swimming broad rivers--the prefect and his assistant, M. Odin, travelled, foot-sore, hungry, and in rags, through this rude wilderness, and wherever they passed they planted the good seed and made ready the soil for the husbandmen who were to come after them. In the principal towns and settlements they were invariably received with honor. The court-houses or other public rooms were placed at their disposal for religious services, and the educated Protestant inhabitants took pains to meet them socially and learn from them something about the faith. We find in the account of these tours no trace of the acrimonious polemical discussions which used to enliven the labors of the missionaries at the Barrens. There was little or no controversy, and the priests were invited to explain religious truth rather over the dinner-table than on the rostrum. At the request of Mr. Timon, M. Odin was soon afterward appointed vicar apostolic of Texas, and sent to continue the work thus happily begun.

It was in 1847 that Mr. Timon was removed from the Western field and consecrated first Bishop of Buffalo. When he had disposed all his affairs and made ready for his departure, his worldly goods consisted of a small trunk about half-full of scanty clothing. He had to borrow money enough to pay his way to New York. But meanwhile some friends, having heard of his poverty, replenished his wardrobe, and made up a purse of $400 for his immediate needs. He was consecrated in the cathedral of New York by Bishops Hughes, Walsh, and McCloskey, on the 17th of October, and reached Buffalo five days afterward. It was evening when he arrived. An immense crowd of people--it is said as many as 10,000--were in waiting for him at the railway station. There were bands of music, banners, and flambeaux, a four-horse carriage for the bishop, and a long torchlight procession to escort him home. It is reported--but the biographer gives the story with some reserve--that, after the _cortége_ had gone some distance, the humble bishop was discovered, valise in hand, trudging afoot through the rain and mud, behind the coach in which he was supposed to be riding. In after-times he must have sadly compared the cordial greeting of his flock on this night with the trials, the insults, the persecutions, which he had to bear from some of the very same people during almost the whole of his episcopate. We shall not enlarge upon the history of these sad years. The scandals which arose from the factious and schismatical spirit of the trustees of the Church of St. Louis in Buffalo are too recent to have been forgotten by our readers. The troubles began while Bishop Timon was still a humble missionary in Missouri. They had been quelled by the firmness of Bishop Hughes, but they broke out again very soon after the creation of the new diocese, and Bishop Timon suffered from them to the end of his life. Having no cathedral and no house, he lodged when he first arrived with the pastor of St. Louis's, but he had been there only a few weeks when the trustees, in their mad jealousy of possible invasion of their imaginary rights, requested him to find a home somewhere else. This brutal behavior was the beginning of a long warfare. Those who may care about studying it will find the necessary documents in Mr. Deuther's book. Let us rather devote the short space remaining at our disposal to a description of some of the charming traits of character of the holy man who crowned a life of incessant labor with an old age of suffering. From the moment of his elevation to the episcopal dignity, the sacred simplicity of his disposition seems to have daily increased. If the anecdote of his behavior at the torchlight reception is not true, it is at any rate consistent with his character. Bishop Hughes declared that the Bishop of Buffalo was the humblest man he had ever known. Though he was very neat and precise in everything relating to the service of the sanctuary, rags of any kind seemed to him "good enough for the old bishop," and it was only by stealth, so to speak, that his friends could keep his wardrobe tolerably well supplied. In his visits to the seminary it was his delight to talk familiarly with the young men. At the orphan asylum the children used to ride on his back. Visiting strange churches, he would kneel in the confessional like any other penitent. In his private and official intercourse with his clergy, it was not unusual for him to beg pardon with the utmost humility for fancied acts of injustice. On one occasion he had slightly rebuked a priest for some irregularity. Satisfied afterward that the rebuke had not been deserved, he invited the priest to dinner, placed him at the head of the table, treated him with marked distinction, and afterward, taking him to his own room, in the presence of another bishop, threw himself upon his knees and begged to be forgiven. In the course of a visitation to a disturbed parish, a member of the congregation he was addressing publicly spat in the bishop's face. He took no notice of the occurrence, but went on with his remarks. "Never shall I forget," wrote the late distinguished Jesuit, Father Smarius, "the days of the missions for the laity and of the retreats for the clergy which I had the pleasure to conduct in the cathedral of Buffalo during the three or four years previous to his holy demise. The first to rise in the morning and to ring the bell for meditation and for prayer, he would totter from door to door along the corridors of the episcopal residence, with a lighted candle in his hand, to see whether all had responded to the call of the bell and betaken themselves to the spot marked out for the performance of that sacred and wholesome duty.... And then, that more than fatherly heart, that forgiving kindness to repentant sinners, even such as had again and again deservedly incurred his displeasure and the penalties of ecclesiastical censures or excommunications. 'Father,' he would say, 'I leave this case in your hands. I give you all power, only save his soul.' And then, that simple, child-like humility, which seemed wounded by even the performance of acts which the excellence and dignity of the episcopacy naturally force from its subjects and inferiors. How often have I seen him fall on his aged knees, face to face with one or other of my clerical brethren, who had fallen on theirs to receive his saintly blessing!" He took great pains to cultivate the virtue of humility in his clergy. A proud priest he had little hope for. To those who complained of the hardships of the mission, he would answer, "Why did you become a priest? It was to suffer, to be persecuted, according to the example laid down by our Lord Jesus Christ." In the strictness with which he tried to watch over the spiritual welfare of his clergy, and changed their positions when he thought the good of their souls required it, his rule was like that of the superior of a monastery rather than the head of a diocese. He was filled to a remarkable decree with the spirit of prayer. He began no labor, decided no question, without long and fervent supplication for the divine assistance. On occasions of festivity or ceremony, he loved to steal away to the quiet of the sanctuary, and under the shadow of a column in the cathedral to pass long hours in meditation. In travelling he was often seen kneeling in his seat in the cars. His household was always ordered like a religious community. The day began and ended with prayer and meditation in common. The bishop rose at five, and in the evening retired early to his room--not to sleep, but to pass most of the night in devotion, study, and writing. Up to the very close of his life he used to set out in the depth of winter to visit distant parishes unannounced, starting from the house before any one else was awake, and trudging painfully through the snow with his bag in his hand. Religious communities, when they assembled for morning devotions, were often surprised to find the bishop on his knees waiting for them. By these sudden visits he was sometimes enabled to correct irregularities, which he never suffered to pass unrebuked; but he used to say that in dealing with others he would rather be too lax than too severe, as he hoped to be judged mercifully by Almighty God.

Mr. Deuther, in attempting to show that the bishop had to conquer a naturally quick temper, has created an impression, we fear, that this saintly man was irascible if not violent in his disposition. It is most earnestly to be hoped that no one will conceive such an utterly wrong idea. Mr. Deuther himself corrects his own unguarded language, and it is only necessary to read the book carefully to see that he does not mean what at first glance he seems not to say, but to imply. Nobody who knew Bishop Timon will hesitate to call him one of the kindest and most amiable of men; whatever faults he may have had, nobody will think of mentioning a hot temper as one of them. The sweetness of his disposition was in correspondence with the tenderness of his heart. The patience with which he bore the sorrows of his episcopate was equalled by the keenness with which he felt them. Toward the close of his life several anonymous communications, accusing him of cruelty, avarice, injustice, and many other faults--of cruelty, this man whose heart was as soft as a woman's--of avarice, this charitable soul, who gave away everything he had, and left himself at times not even a change of linen--of injustice, this bishop who pardoned every one but himself--were sent him in the form of printed circulars. So deeply was he wounded that his biographer is assured that the incident hastened his death; he never was the same man afterward. At the end of the next diocesan synod he knelt before his priests, and, in a voice broken by tears, asked pardon of every one present whom he might have in any manner treated unjustly. He died on the 16th of April, 1867, after a rapid but gradual decay whose termination he himself was the first to foresee, and his last hours were as beautiful and inspiring as his years of holy labor.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] _The Life and Times of the Right Rev. John Timon, D.D._, First Roman Catholic Bishop of Buffalo. By Charles G. Deuther. Buffalo: published by the Author.

[8] Mr. Deuther incorrectly calls this Conevago.

GUALBERTO'S VICTORY.

A mountain-pass, so narrow that a man Riding that way to Florence, stooping, can Touch with his hand the rocks on either side, And pluck the flowers that in the crannies hide-- Here, on Good Friday, centuries ago, Mounted and armed, John Gualbert met his foe, Mounted and armed as well, but riding down To the fair city from the woodland brown, This way and that swinging his jewell'd whip, A gay old love-song on his careless lip. An accidental meeting--yet the sun Burned on their brows as if it had been one Of deep design, so deadly was the look Of mutual hate their olive faces took, As (knightly courtesy forgot in wrath) Neither would yield his enemy the path. "Back!" cried Gaulberto. "Never!" yelled his foe. And on the instant, sword in hand, they throw Them from their saddles, nothing loth, And fall to fighting with a smothered oath. A pair of shapely, stalwart cavaliers, Well-matched in stature, weapons, weight, and years, Theirs was a long, fierce struggle on the grass, Thrusting and parrying up and down the pass, Swaying from left to right, till blood-drops oozed Upon the rocks, and head and hands were bruised; But at its close, when Gualbert stopped to rest, His heel was planted on his foeman's breast; And, looking up, the fallen courtier sees, As in a dream, gray rocks and waving trees Before his glazing eyes begin to float, While Gualbert's sabre glitters at his throat.

"Now die, base wretch!" the victor fiercely cries, His heart of hate outflashing from his eyes. "Never again, by the all-righteous Lord, Shalt thou with life escape this trusty sword! Revenge is sweet!" And upward flash'd the steel, But e'er it fell--dear Lord! a silvery peal Of voices, chanting in the town below, Rose, like a fountain's spray, from spires of snow, And chimed, and chimed, to die in echoes slow.

In the sweet silence following the sound, Gualberto and the man upon the ground Glared at each other with bewildered eyes. And then the latter, struggling to rise, Made one last effort, while his face grew dark With pleading agony: "Gualberto! hark! The chant--the hour--you know the olden fashion-- The monks below intone Our Lord's dear Passion. Oh! by this cross"--and here he caught the hilt Of Gualbert's sword--"and by the blood once spilt Upon it for us both long years ago, Forgive--forget--and spare your fallen foe!"

The face that bent above grew white and set, The lips were drawn, the brow bedew'd with sweat, But on the grass the harmless sword was flung, And, stooping down, the generous hero wrung The outstretched hand. Then, lest he lose control Of the but half-tamed passions of his soul, Fled up the pathway, tearing casque and coat, To ease the throbbing tempest at his throat-- Fled up the crags, as if a fiend pursued, Nor paused until he reached the chapel rude.

There, in the cool, dim stillness, on his knees, Trembling, he flings himself, and, startled, sees Set in the rock a crucifix antique, From which the wounded Christ bends down to speak: "_Thou hast done well, Gualberto. For my sake Thou didst forgive thine enemy; now take My gracious pardon for thy years of sin, And from this day a better life begin._"

White flash'd the angels' wings above his head, Rare subtile perfumes thro' the place were shed; And golden harps and sweetest voices pour'd Their glorious hosannas to the Lord, Who, in that hour and in that chapel quaint, Changed, by his power, by his sweet love's constraint, Gualbert the sinner into John the saint.

OUR LADY OF LOURDES.

FROM THE FRENCH OF HENRI LASSERRE.

PART SIXTH.

I.

The enemies of "superstition" had lost a good deal of ground in their desperate struggle against the events which for the last ten or twelve weeks had scandalized their distressed philosophy. As it had become impossible to deny the existence of the fountain whose pure streams were flowing before the eyes of the amazed people, so it was becoming impossible to continue denying the reality of the cures which were being worked, continually and in many places, by the use of this mysterious water.

At first the incredulous had shrugged their shoulders at the report of these cures, taking the simple course of denying them out-and-out, and refusing to make any examination. Then some skilful persons had invented several false miracles, to enjoy an easy triumph in refuting them. But they had very soon been confounded by the multiplicity of these wonderful cures, of which a few have been mentioned. The facts were evident. They became so numerous and so striking that it was necessary, however painful it might be, either to acknowledge their miraculous nature or find some natural explanation for them.

The free-thinkers, then, understood that, unless they were willing either to surrender or to deny in the face of complete evidence, it was absolutely necessary to take up some new line of tactics.

The most intelligent of the clique, indeed, saw that things had already gone too far, and perceived the grave error which they had committed at the outset in denying prematurely and without examination facts which had afterward become patent and perfectly well established, such as the appearance of the fountain, and the cures of a great number of many who were notoriously incurable by natural means, and who were now to be seen going about the streets of the town in perfect health. What made the mistake worse and almost irreparable was that these unfortunate denials of the most well-attested events were authentically and officially recorded in all the newspapers of the department.

II.

The greater part of the cures effected by the Massabielle water had a character of rapidity, nay, even of instantaneousness, which clearly showed the immediate action of sovereign power. There were some, however, which did not present this evidently supernatural appearance, being accomplished after baths or draughts repeated a few or many times, and in a slow and gradual manner--resembling somewhat in their mode the ordinary course of natural cures, though in reality different.

In a village called Gez, near Lourdes, a little child of seven years had been the subject of one of these cures, of a mixed character, which, according to one's natural inclination, might be attributed to a special grace of God or to the unaided forces of nature. This child, named Lasbareilles, had been born entirely deformed, with a double curvature of the back and breast-bone. His thin and almost withered legs were useless from their extreme weakness; the poor little boy had never been able to walk, but was always either sitting or lying down. When he had to move, his mother carried him in her arms. Sometimes, indeed, the child, resting on the edge of the table or helped by his mother's hand, could manage to keep himself up and to take a few steps; but it was at the cost of violent efforts and immense fatigue. The physician of the place had professed himself unable to cure him; and the disease being organic, no remedy had ever been resorted to.

The parents of this unfortunate child, having heard of the miracles of Lourdes, had procured some of the water from the grotto; and in the course of a fortnight had applied it on three different occasions to the body of the little fellow without obtaining any effect. But their faith was not discouraged on that account; if hope was banished from the world, it would still remain in the hearts of mothers. A fourth application was made on Holy Thursday, the first of April, 1858. That day the child took several steps without assistance.

The bathings from that time became more and more efficacious, and the health of the patient gradually improved. After three or four weeks, he became strong enough to walk almost as well as other people. We say "almost," for there was still in his gait a certain awkwardness, which seemed like a reminiscence of his original infirmity. The thinness of his legs had slowly disappeared together with their weakness, and the deformity of his chest was almost entirely gone. All the people of the village of Gez, knowing his previous condition, said that it was a miracle. Were they right or wrong? Whatever our own opinion may be, there is certainly much to be said on both sides of the question.

Another child, Denys Bouchet, of the town of Lamarque, in the canton of Ossun, had also been cured of a general paralysis in very much the same way. A young man of twenty-seven years, Jean Louis Amaré, who was subject to epileptic fits, had been completely though gradually cured of his terrible malady solely by the use of the water of Massabielle.

Some other similar cases had also occurred.[9]

III.

If we were not acquainted with the wonderfully varied forms which supernatural cures have assumed since the Christian era, we might perhaps be inclined to believe that Providence had thus disposed things at this moment to cause proud human philosophy to catch itself in its own nets, and to destroy itself with its own hands. But let us not think that there was in this case such a snare on the part of God. He lies in ambush for no one. But truth in its normal and regular developments, the logic of which is unknown to human philosophy, is of itself an eternal snare for error.

However this may be, the _savants_ and physicians of the country hastened to find in these various cures, the cause of which was doubtful, though their reality and progressive nature were well ascertained, an admirable opportunity and an excellent pretext to effect that change of base which the increasing evidence of facts made absolutely necessary.

Ceasing, therefore, to ascribe these cures to such a commonplace cause as imagination, they loudly attributed them to the natural virtues which this remarkable water, which had been discovered by the merest chance, undoubtedly possessed. To give this explanation was of course equivalent to recognizing the cures.

Let the reader recall the beginning of this story, when a little shepherdess, going out to gather some dead wood, claimed to have seen a shining apparition. Let him remember the sneers of the great men of Lourdes, the shrugging of shoulders at the club, the supreme contempt with which these strong-minded individuals received this childish nonsense; what progress the supernatural had made; and how much incredulity, science, and philosophy had lost, since the first events which had so suddenly occurred at the lonely grotto on the banks of the Gave.

The miraculous had, if we may use such an expression, taken the offensive. Free thought, lately so proud and confident in its attacks, was now pursued by facts and obliged to defend itself.

The representatives of philosophy and science were none the less positive, however, and showed as much disdain as ever for the popular superstition.

"Well, be it so," said they, affecting a tone of good humor and the air of good faith. "We acknowledge that the water of the grotto cures certain maladies. What can be more simple? What need is there of having recourse to miracles, supernatural graces, and divine intervention to explain effects similar to, if not even exactly the same as, those of the thousand springs which, from Vichy or Baden-Baden to Luchon, act with such efficacy on the human system? The Massabielle water has merely some very powerful mineral qualities, like those which are found in the springs of Barèges or Cauterets, a little higher up in the mountains. The grotto of Lourdes has no connection with religion, but comes within the province of medical science."

A letter, which we take at random from our documents, presents better than we could the attitude of the _savants_ of the neighborhood regarding the wonders worked by the Massabielle water. This letter, written by an eminent physician of that region, Dr. Lary, who had no faith whatever in the miraculous explanations of the cures, was addressed by him to a member of the faculty:

"OSSUN, April 28, 1858.

"I hasten, my dear sir, to send you the details which you ask of me in regard to the case of the woman Galop of our commune.

"This woman, in consequence of rheumatism in the left hand, had lost the power of holding anything with it. Hence, if she wished to wash or carry a glass with this hand, she was very apt to drop it, and she was obliged to give up drawing water from the well, because this hand was unable to hold the rope. For more than eight months she had not made her bed and had not spun a single skein of thread.

"Now, after a single journey to Lourdes, where she made use of the water internally and externally, she spins with ease, _makes her bed, draws water, washes and carries the glasses and dishes, and, in short, uses this hand as well as the other_.

"The movements of the left hand are not yet _quite_ as free as before the illness, but 90 per cent. of the power that had been lost before the use of the water from the grotto at Lourdes has been restored. The woman proposes, however, to go again to the grotto. I shall ask her to pass your way that you may see her, and convince yourself of all that I have said.

"You will find, in examining her case, an incomplete anchylosis of the lower joint of the forefinger. If the repeated use of the water of the grotto destroys this morbid condition, it will be an additional proof of its alkaline properties.[10]

"In conclusion, I beg you to believe me yours very faithfully,

"LARY, M.D."

This explanation, once admitted and considered as certain in advance, the doctors were less unwilling to accept the cures worked by the water of the grotto; and from this period they set to work to generalize their thesis, and to apply it almost without any distinction to all cases, even to those which were marked by the most amazing rapidity, which could by no means be ascribed to the ordinary action of mineral waters. The learned personages of the place got out of this difficulty by attributing to the water of the grotto extremely powerful properties, such as had been previously unknown. It mattered little that they discarded all the laws of nature in their theories, provided that heaven got no profit thence. They willingly admitted the preternatural in order to get rid of the supernatural.

There were among the faithful some perverse and troublesome persons, who by impertinent remarks interfered with the profound conclusions of the scientific coterie.

"How," they said, "is it that this mineral spring, so extraordinarily powerful that it works instantaneous cures, was found by Bernadette when in a state of ecstasy, and came after her accounts of certain celestial visions, and apparently in support of them? How did it happen that the fountain sprang out precisely at the moment when Bernadette believed herself to hear a heavenly voice telling her to drink and bathe? And how is it that this fountain, which appeared suddenly under the eyes of all the people in such very unusual circumstances, yields not ordinary water, but a water which, as you yourselves acknowledge, has already cured so many sick persons whose cases had been abandoned as hopeless, and who have used it without medical advice, and merely in the spirit of religious faith?"

These objections, repeated under many different forms, provoked the free-thinkers, philosophers, and _savants_ exceedingly. They tried to evade them by answers which were really so poor and miserable that they ought, one would think, to have hardly presented a good appearance even in their authors' eyes; but then, to find any others was no doubt very difficult.

"Why not?" said they. "Coffee was discovered by a goat. A shepherd found by chance the waters of Luchon. It was also by accident that the ruins of Pompeii were brought to light by the pickaxe of a laborer. Why should we be so much surprised that this little girl, while amusing herself by digging in the ground during her hallucination, should have come upon a spring, and that the water of this spring should be mineral and alkaline? That she imagined at the moment that the Blessed Virgin was before her, and that she heard a voice directing her to the fountain, is merely a coincidence, entirely accidental, but of which superstition tries to make a miracle. On this occasion, as on the others, chance has done everything, and has been the real discoverer."

The faithful were not, however, moved by this sort of argument. They had the bad taste to think that to explain everything by accidental coincidence was to do violence to reason under the pretext of defending it. This irritated the free-thinkers, who, though acknowledging at last the reality of the cures, deplored more than ever the religious and supernatural character which the common people insisted upon giving to these strange events; and, as was natural under the circumstances, they were inclined to resort to force to stop the popular movement. "If these waters are mineral," they began to say, "they belong to the state or to the municipality; people should not use them except by the advice of a doctor; and an establishment for baths should be built at the spot, not a chapel."

The science of Lourdes, forced to assent to the facts in this case, had arrived at the state of mind just described when the measures of the prefect, relative to the objects deposited in the grotto, and the attempt to imprison Bernadette under the pretext of insanity, were announced--this attempt, as we have seen, having been defeated by the unexpected intervention of the curé, M. Peyramale.

IV.

A certain and official basis for all these theses of the desperate adherents of the medical theory was still a desideratum. M. Massy had already bethought himself of asking such a basis from one of the most wonderful and indubitable sciences of the age--namely, that of chemistry. With this view, he had applied, through the mayor of Lourdes, to a chemist of some distinction in the department--M. Latour de Trie.

To show, not in detail by the examination of each special case, but once for all, that these cures which were rising up as formidable objections were naturally explained by the chemical constitution of the new spring, seemed to him a masterstroke; and he considered that, in accomplishing it, he would lay science and philosophy under obligation, not to mention also the administration, represented by the minister, M. Rouland.

Seeing that it was impossible to have Bernadette arrested as insane, he urged the analysis, which was to show officially the mineral and healing qualities of the water. It was becoming imperatively necessary to get rid of the intrusive supernatural power which, after having produced the fountain, was now curing the sick people, and threatening to pass all bounds. Though its abominable influence should continue strong in many quarters, a really official analysis might be of great service.

The chemist of the prefecture, therefore, set to work to make this precious investigation of the water from Massabielle, and, with a good conscience, if not with perfect science, he found at the bottom of his crucibles a solution perfectly agreeing with the explanations of the doctors, the reasonings of the philosophers, and the desires of the prefect. But was truth also as well satisfied with it as the prefecture, the philosophers, and the faculty? At first, perhaps, this question was not proposed, but it lay in store for a future occasion. But, not to consider this for the present, let us see what was this analysis which M. Latour de Trie, chemist of the administration, addressed officially, on the 6th of May, to the mayor of Lourdes, and which the latter immediately forwarded to the Baron Massy:

"CHEMICAL ANALYSIS.

"The water of the grotto of Lourdes is very clear, without smell or decided taste. Its specific gravity is very nearly that of distilled water. Its temperature at the spring is 15° Cent. (59° Fahr.)

"It contains the following elements:

"1st. Chlorides of sodium, calcium and magnesium in abundance.[11]

"2d. Carbonates of lime and of magnesia.

"3d. Silicates of lime and of alumina.

"4th. Oxide of iron.

"5th. Sulphate and carbonate of soda.

"6th. Phosphate (traces).

"7th. Organic matter--ulmine.

"The complete absence of sulphate of lime in this water is also established by this analysis.

"This remarkable peculiarity is entirely to its advantage, and entitles it to be considered as very favorable to digestion, and as giving to the animal economy a disposition favorable to the equilibrium of the vital action.

"We do not think it imprudent to say, in consideration of the number and quality of the substances which compose it, that medical science will, perhaps, soon recognize in it special curative properties which will entitle it to be classed among the waters which constitute the mineral wealth of our department.

"Be pleased to accept, etc.

"A. LATOUR DE TRIE."

The civil order is not so well disciplined as the military, and, through misunderstanding, false steps are occasionally taken in it. The prefect, in the multitude of his avocations, had omitted to give his orders to the editors of the official newspaper of the department, the _Ere Impériale_, so that, while the chemist of the prefecture said white, its journalist said black; while the former was recognizing in the spring at Lourdes one of the future medical and mineral treasures of the Pyrenees, the latter was calling it dirty water, and joking about the cures which had been obtained.

"It is needless to say," he wrote on the precise day on which M. Latour de Trie sent in his report--that is, on the 6th of May--"that the famous grotto turns out miracles in abundance, and that our department is inundated with them. At every corner you will meet with people who tell you of a thousand cures obtained by the use of some dirty water.

"The doctors will soon have nothing to do, and the rheumatic and consumptive people will have disappeared from the department," etc.

Notwithstanding these discrepancies, which might have been avoided, it must be acknowledged that Baron Massy was, on the whole, attentive to his business. On the 4th of May, at about noon, he had delivered his address to the mayors of the canton of Lourdes, and given his orders. On the 4th of May, in the evening, the grotto had been stripped of the offerings and _ex-votos_. On the morning of the 5th, he had ascertained the impossibility of having Bernadette arrested, and had abandoned this measure. On the 6th, in the evening, he received the analysis of his chemist. Fortified with this important document, he waited the course of events.

What was about to take place at Lourdes? What would happen at the grotto? What would be done by Bernadette, whose every movement was watched by the Argus eyes of Jacomet and of his agents? Would not the fountain at the grotto disappear in the coming hot weather, and thus put an end to the whole business? What attitude would the people assume? Such were the hopes and anxieties of the Baron Massy, imperial prefect.

V.

At the grotto the miraculous fountain continued to flow, abundant and clear, with that character of quiet perpetuity which is generally found in springs coming from the rock.

The supernatural apparition did not cease to assert its existence, and to prove it by benefits conferred.

The grace of God continued to descend visibly and invisibly upon the people, sometimes quick as the lightning which flashes through the clouds, sometimes gradual like the light of dawn.

We can only speak of those graces which were external and manifest.

At six or seven kilometres (four miles) from Lourdes, at Loubajac, lived a good woman, a peasant, who had formerly been accustomed to labor, but whom an accident had for eighteen months past reduced to a most painful inaction. Her name was Catherine Latapie-Chouat. In October, 1856, having climbed an oak to knock down some acorns, she had lost her balance, and suffered a violent fall, which caused a severe dislocation of the right arm and hand. The reduction--as is stated in the report and the official statement, which are now before us--though performed immediately by an able surgeon, and though it nearly restored the arm to its normal state, had nevertheless not prevented an extreme weakness in it. The most intelligent and continuous treatment had been ineffectual in removing the stiffness of the three most important fingers of the hand. The thumb and first two fingers remained obstinately bent and paralyzed, so that it was impossible either to straighten them or to enable them to move in the least. The unfortunate peasant, still young enough for much labor, for she was hardly thirty-eight, could not sew, spin, knit, or take care of the house. The doctor, after having treated her case for a long time without success, had told her that it was incurable, and that she must resign herself to give up the use of that hand. This sentence, from such a reliable authority, was for the poor woman the announcement of an irreparable misfortune. The poor have no resource but work; for them compulsory inaction is inevitable misery.

Catherine had become pregnant nine or ten months after the accident, and her time was approaching at the date of our narrative. One night she awaked with a sudden thought or inspiration. "An interior spirit," to quote her own words to myself, "said to me as it were with irresistible force, 'Go to the grotto! go to the grotto, and you will be cured!'" Who this mysterious being was who spoke thus, and whom this ignorant peasant--ignorant at least as far as human knowledge is concerned--called a "spirit," is no doubt known by her angel guardian.

It was three o'clock in the morning. Catherine called two of her children who were large enough to accompany her.

"Do you remain to work," said she to her husband. "I am going to the grotto."

"In your present condition it is impossible," replied he; "to go to Lourdes and return is full three leagues."

"Nothing is impossible. I am going to get cured."

No objection had the least effect upon her, and she set out with her two children. It was a fine moonlight night; but the awful silence, occasionally broken by strange and mysterious sounds, the solitude of the plains only dimly visible, and seemingly peopled by vague forms, terrified the children. They trembled, and would have stopped at every step had not Catherine reassured them. She had no fear, and felt that she was going to the fountain of life.

She arrived at Lourdes at daybreak, and happened to meet Bernadette. Some one telling her who it was, Catherine, without saying anything, approached the child blessed by the Lord and beloved by Mary, and touched her dress humbly. Then she continued her journey to the rocks of Massabielle, where, in spite of the early hour, a great many pilgrims were already assembled and were on their knees.

Catherine and her children also knelt and prayed. Then she rose, and quietly bathed her hand in the marvellous water.

Her fingers immediately straightened, became flexible, and under her control. The Blessed Virgin had cured the incurable.

What did Catherine do? She was not surprised. She did not utter a cry, but again fell on her knees, and gave thanks to God and to Mary. For the first time for eighteen months, she prayed with her hands joined, and clasped the resuscitated fingers with the others.

She remained thus for a long time, absorbed in an act of thanksgiving. Such moments are sweet; the soul is glad to forget itself, and thinks that it is in Paradise.

But violent sufferings recalled Catherine to the earth--this earth of sighs and tears, where the curse pronounced upon the guilty mother of the human race has never ceased to be felt by her innumerable posterity. We have said that Catherine was very near her confinement, and as she was still upon her knees she found herself suddenly seized by the terrible pains of childbirth. She shuddered, seeing that there would be no time to go even to Lourdes, and that her delivery was about to occur in the presence of the surrounding multitude. And for a moment she looked around with terror and anguish.

But this terror did not last long.

Catherine returned to the Queen whom nature obeys.

"Good Mother," said she simply, "you have just shown me so great a favor, I know you will spare me the shame of being delivered before all these people, and at least grant that I may return home before giving birth to my child."

Immediately all her pains ceased, and the interior spirit of whom she spoke to us, and who, we believe, was her angel guardian, said to her:

"Do not be alarmed. Set out with confidence; you will arrive safely."

"Let us go home now," said Catherine to her two children.

Accordingly she took the road to Loubajac, holding them by the hand, without intimating to any one her critical state, and without showing any uneasiness, even to the midwife of her own village, who happened to be there in the midst of the crowd of pilgrims. With inexpressible happiness she quietly traversed the long and rough road which separated her from home. The two children were not afraid of it now; the sun was risen, and their mother was cured.

As soon as she returned, she wished still to pray; but immediately her pains returned. In a quarter of an hour she was the mother of a third son.[12]

At the same time, a woman of Lamarque, Marianne Garrot, had been relieved in less than ten days, merely by lotions with the water from the grotto, of a white eruption which had covered her whole face, and which for two years had resisted all treatment. Dr. Amadou, of Pontacq, her physician, was satisfied of the fact, and was an incontestable witness of it subsequently before the episcopal commission.[13]

At Bordères, near Nay, the widow Marie Lanou-Domengé, eighty years old, had been for three years a sufferer from an incomplete paralysis in the whole left side. She could not take a step without assistance, and was unable to do any work.

Dr. Poueymiroo, of Mirepoix, after having ineffectually used some remedies to restore life in the palsied parts, though continuing his visits, had abandoned medical treatment of the case.

Hope, however, is with difficulty extinguished in the hearts of the sick.

"When shall I get well?" the good woman would say to Dr. Poueymiroo, every time that he came.

"You will get well when the good God sees fit," was the invariable reply of the doctor, who was far from suspecting the prophetic nature of his words.

"Why should I not believe what he says, and throw myself directly on the divine goodness?" said the old peasant woman one day to herself, when she heard people talking of the fountain of Massabielle.

Accordingly, she sent some one to Lourdes to get at the spring itself a little of this healing water.

When it was brought to her, she was much excited.

"Take me out of bed," said she, "and hold me up."

They took her out, and dressed her hurriedly. Both the actors and spectators in this scene were somewhat disturbed.

Two persons held her up, placing their hands under her shoulders.

A glass of water from the grotto was presented to her.

She extended her trembling hand toward the quickening water and dipped her fingers in it. Then she made a great sign of the cross on herself, raised the glass to her lips, and slowly drank the contents, no doubt absorbed in fervent and silent prayer.

She became so pale that they thought for the moment that she was going to faint.

But while they were exerting themselves to prevent her from falling, she rose with a quick and joyful movement and looked around. Then she cried out with a voice of triumph:

"Let me go--quick! I am cured."

Those who were holding her withdrew their arms partially and with some hesitation. She immediately freed herself from them, and walked with as much confidence as if she had never been ill.

Some one, however, who still had some fear of the result, offered her a stick to lean on.

She looked at it with a smile; then took it and contemptuously threw it far away, as a thing which was no longer of use. And from that day, she employed herself as before in hard out-door work.

Some visitors, who came to see her and to convince themselves of the fact, asked her to walk in their presence.

"Walk, did you say? I will run for you!" And, true to her word, she began to run.

This occurred in the month of May. In the following July, the people pointed out the vigorous octogenarian as a curiosity, as she mowed the grain, and was by no means the last in the hard labors of the harvest.

Her physician, the excellent Dr. Poueymiroo, praised God for this evident miracle, and subsequently, with the examining commission, signed the procès-verbal on the extraordinary events which we have just related, in which he did not hesitate to recognize "the direct and evident action of divine power."[14]

TO BE CONTINUED.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] We think it well to say that no one of these cures, except that of Denys Bouchet, whom the physicians had pronounced absolutely and constitutionally incurable, was declared to be miraculous by the episcopal commission which will be mentioned further on. For these cures, the 10th, 11th, and 16th _procès verbaux_ of the commission may be consulted. Whatever the probability of divine intervention may be in such cases, the church before proclaiming a miracle requires _that no natural explanation of the fact should be possible_, and sets aside, without affirming or denying, every case in which this condition is not found. She is content to say _Nescio_.

We shall hereafter have occasion to speak of the work of the commission.

[10] The patient was, in fact, entirely cured at the second visit to Lourdes.

[11] The presence of chloride of sodium (common salt), to say nothing of the others, _in abundance_, without a decided taste in the water, is a little mysterious. The original reads: "Chlorures de soude, de chaux et de magnésie: abondants."--NOTE BY TRANSLATOR.

[12] The reader will perhaps like to see the reports of the episcopal commission on this case:

"Hardly had Catherine Latapie-Chouat plunged her hand into the water, than she felt herself to be entirely cured; her fingers recovered their natural suppleness and elasticity, so that she could quickly open and shut them, and use them with as much ease as before the accident of October, 1856.

"From that time she has had no more trouble with them.

"The deformity of the hand of Catherine Latapie, and the impossibility of using it, being due to an anchylosis of the joints of the fingers, and to a complete lesion of the nerves or the flexor tendons, it is certain that the case was a very serious one; as also by the uselessness of all the means of cure used during eighteen months, and by the avowal of the physician, who had declared to this woman that her condition was irremediable.

"Nevertheless, in spite of the failure of such long and repeated attempts, the employment of various active healing agents, and the statement of the physician, this severe lesion disappeared immediately. Now, this sudden disappearance of the infirmity, and restoration of the fingers to their original state, is evidently beyond and above the usual course of nature, and of the laws which govern the efficacy of its agents.

"The means by which this result has been brought about leave no doubt in this respect, and establish this conclusion incontestably. In fact, it has been averred(a) that the Massabielle water is of an ordinary character, without the least curative properties. It cannot, then, by its natural action, have straightened the fingers of Catherine Latapie and restored their suppleness and agility, which had not been accomplished by the scientific remedies which were so various and used for so long a time. The wonderful result, then, which the mere touch of this water immediately produced, cannot be ascribed to it, but we must rise to a superior cause, and do homage for it to a supernatural power, of which the water of Massabielle has been, as it were, the veil and inert instrument.

"Besides, if ordinary water had been possessed of such a prodigious power, Catherine Latapie would have experienced its effect long before by the daily use which she made of it in washing herself and her children; for she had daily employed for this purpose water exactly similar to that at the grotto."--_Extract from the 15th procès-verbal of the commission._

(a): This was, in fact, authentically averred, the administrative analysis to the contrary notwithstanding, at the time of the _procès-verbaux_ of the commission.

[13] We will also give the conclusions of the commission on this point.

"An eruptive affection of this sort might not of itself have a very grave character, nor threaten serious danger or disastrous consequences. Still, that from which Marianne Garrot had suffered would indicate by its duration, by its resistance to the treatment which had been prescribed and faithfully followed, and by its continual and progressive spreading, a very decidedly malignant character, the inoculation, so to speak, of a deeply seated _virus_, to expel which would require long and persevering attention, with a patient continuance of the treatment already adopted or of some other more appropriate and effectual one.

"The rapid though not instantaneous disappearance of the white eruption from the face of the patient is very different from the usual effect of chemical preparations; for the first lotion produced a perceptible improvement or partial cure _instantaneously_, which was advanced by the second, made four days afterward; and without the aid of any other remedy, these two lotions accomplished a complete restoration in a few days by a gradual and rapid progress.

"Now, the liquid the employment of which produced this speedy effect was nothing but water, without any special properties, and without any relation or appropriateness to the disease which it overcame; and which, besides, if it had possessed any such qualities, would long before have produced the effect through the daily use which the patient made of it for drinking and washing.

"This cure cannot, then, be ascribed to the natural efficacy of the Massabielle water, and all the circumstances, as it would seem--namely, the tenacity and activity of the eruption, the rapidity of the cure, and the inappropriateness of the element which brought it about--concur to show in it a cause foreign and superior to natural agents."--_Extract from the 15th procès-verbal of the commission._

[14] Ninth procès-verbal of the commission.

OUR NORTHERN NEIGHBORS.

In the adjustment of differences to which conflicting interests or a spirit of rivalry may give birth, governments, like individuals, are prone to satisfy themselves with conventions limited to matters immediately in dispute. They are like medical doctors, who treat symptoms as the malady to be cured, and, satisfied with alleviating present pain, leave its causes to war against mortal life, until disease becomes chronic and incurable.

Whether the labors of the Joint High Commission, now sitting in Washington, will be of this description, remains to be seen; but such, it appears to us, has been the character of treaties or conventions affecting commercial relations with our Canadian and provincial neighbors. They seem not to have been founded upon any intelligent consideration of the wants of contracting parties, but, presupposing that there must be conflicting interests, are devised to prevent rival industries from merging in unfriendliness and strife. We ask, then, whether these rival interests have legitimate existence. The answer to this question will be derived from an examination of the statistics of the two countries--their agricultural and other products--their climatic and social conditions, and the commercial relations actually subsisting between them, as well as those which both sustain to other countries and peoples.

The productions of a country are properly classified according to the sources whence they are derived.

We have, then, five distinct classes of products, namely: The natural productions of the sea, the earth, the forest, and the results of industry applied to agriculture and manufactures.

Let us now turn to the map of British America. Beginning at the east, the waters of Newfoundland and the Gulf of St. Lawrence are rich in fisheries. They yield salmon, mackerel, codfish, haddock, ling, herring, and oysters, in great abundance. Newfoundland has not enough of agriculture to save its own population from absolute suffering when there is a failure in the catch of fish along its shores. It possesses rich though undeveloped deposits of copper, iron, and other ores. Prince Edward Island, in the centre of the mackerel fisheries, is, perhaps, more favored by nature than the other maritime provinces. Every acre of its surface may be reckoned as arable land. Its agriculture, always limited to the growth of hay, oats, potatoes, and turnips, is only partially developed, though even now yielding a considerable surplus for export. Its forests are exhausted of timber. And though, from habit, its people still continue to build wooden ships to send "home" for sale, they are obliged to import the material for their construction. The southern part of Nova Scotia contains a considerable portion of good farm lands; yielding the invariable crops of hay, oats, potatoes, and turnips. In some districts, apples and pears, of excellent quality, are grown in abundance. The eastern portion, especially the island of Cape Breton, is rich in coal, lime, freestone, and marble; all so placed as to be easily accessible to commerce. Even now, despite protective duties on colonial products, the streets of some of our Atlantic cities are lighted with gas from Nova Scotia coal.

Gold has been found in sufficient quantity to afford opportunity for speculation, but not for profit. The yield for 1867 was 27,583 oz. = $413,745; for 1868, 20,541 oz. = $308,115. The same amount of capital applied to the growing of potatoes would doubtless afford a much larger return. Coal is the most important mineral product; and its chief market is found in the United States. The net amount mined in one year was 418,313 tons; sold for home consumption and to neighboring colonies, 176,392 tons; sent to the United States, 241,921 tons.

New Brunswick offers the same agricultural products as the neighboring provinces of Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. A great part of its territory, like the northern part of Maine, is cold, rocky, and inarable. But its forests yield large quantities of pine lumber, oak, beech, maple, and other valuable woods, and bark for tanning leather. This source of wealth is, however, rapidly failing. The forests begin to give evidence of exhaustion. St. John already asks what shall be her resource when the lumber is gone. Formerly, ship-building was a large interest in these lower provinces. But from the growing scarcity of ship timber, as well as from the more general use of iron vessels, it has been declining from year to year.

We see, then, what these provinces can now contribute to commerce; and we also see their prime deficiency. They cannot supply their people with bread. That comes from Canada and the United States. But Canada does not want their mackerel or other fish, their oats, potatoes, turnips, or hay. She wants money; and for want of a nearer market, the surplus oats must be sent upon a very doubtful venture across the ocean, the mackerel to the United States, and the dried fish to the West Indies and Brazil, to get money to pay for Canadian bread. But time is money. It is more than money--it is life. And when we take into account the loss of time in going to and fro across the ocean, and the great expenditure of unproductive labor that is required by this selling to Peter on one side of the world to pay Paul on the other, we cannot help believing that the poor provincial pays a high price for bread to eat and clothes to wear, as well as for the various products of other lands which, from being only conveniences, have become the necessaries of life.

We come now to the Province of Quebec--prior to the Dominion, called Canada East. Nearly all her territory lies north of the forty-sixth parallel of latitude. Need we say that agriculture, save for the few and slender productions of cold climates, is here impossible? For nearly seven months of the year the greater part of her rivers and harbors are closed to commerce by bars of impenetrable ice. The soil, and every industry relating to it, is under the dominion of frost.

The forests of timber may be accessible despite the snows of winter, and in the early spring her people may hunt seals along the coasts of Labrador; but during the long period of actual winter, her agriculturists, nearly her whole industrial population, must be employed upon indoor labor, or be left to hibernate in positive idleness. It is simply impossible that agriculture can ever be a successful industry in so rigorous a climate as that of Quebec.

Going westward through what was once called Canada West, now the Province of Ontario, we find a peninsula bounded by the St. Lawrence River, Lake Ontario, and Lake Erie, on the south and east; and by Lakes St. Clair and Huron, with their connecting straits, on the west. This peninsula, south of 45° N., comprises the wheat-growing lands of Canada east of Lake Winnipeg. Its area is something less than that of the State of New York. It produces good crops of wheat and other cereals, and nearly all vegetables and fruits grown in our northern and northwestern states. Farther west, we have the valleys of the Saskatchewan and its tributaries, capable of producing cereals, grasses, potatoes, and other vegetables. But our information, derived from missionaries and others long resident in that region, induces the belief that it is mere folly to regard a country in whose streams the fish lie torpid, and where the snow-fall is not enough to protect the land from killing frosts, in winter, as suited to the growth of cereals for export, or as capable of giving bread to any considerable population.

Much has been said and written concerning the territory lying on the Pacific coast. We believe it is well ascertained that the climate of British Columbia west of the mountains--we might well add the southeast coast of Alaska--is as mild as that of the state of New York. Unfortunately, it is very much more moist; so much more that it never can become a good agricultural country. The reason is so obvious that one is hardly disposed to question the assertion. The vast accumulations of ice and snow in and immediately north of Behring Strait, and on the high mountain range lying on the east side of this territory, must produce intense cold when the wind blows from the north and east. When the warm air comes from the southwest, the whole atmosphere must resemble a vapor-bath. Seeds may readily germinate, but can they produce ripe crops?

We have recently discussed this subject with a friend who has had intimate personal acquaintance with this coast for more than ten years, and we but reiterate his assertion in saying that, north of Oregon, agriculture is not a safe reliance for the support of a colony. We do not doubt that hay, oats, and potatoes will grow there. It is well known that they may grow where the sub-soil is everlasting ice. But we know that agriculture cannot be profitable either there or where the heats of summer last just long enough to melt the snows on adjacent mountains and convert the soil to mud. There must always be an excess of moisture to contend with in maturing crops. Our information as to the fact is positive. But suppose that, in process of time, by the clearing of forest lands, and other causes incident to the peopling and cultivation of the soil, these difficulties were overcome. Does any one believe that the products of the land could be carried by rail and inland waters through a distance of three thousand miles, and two or three thousand more by sea, and, after successive reshipments, at last pay the producer--save in cumulation of expenses added to the original cost of goods received in return? If, then, this far western country should ever have an excess of food or other commodities, they must find a readier market than either the far-off country of eastern Canada or more distant lands can afford. Its trade must be with the neighboring states of Washington, Oregon, and California. Will the people, on either side, long consent to pay tribute to government officials for the privilege of exchanging the fruits of their toil?

Were they really of different races--distinct in language, manners, and customs beyond the degree that always makes the dwellers in one village imagine its "excellent society" a little superior to that of the neighboring hamlet--we might say, yes! But knowing, as we do, that they are by race, by conditions of soil and climate, and by reason of mutual interests, but one people, we do not believe it.

Let us now glance at the map of the United States. Leaving out Maine, northern New Hampshire, and Vermont, in the northeast; the narrow belt north of the 48th parallel, between Lake Superior and the Pacific Ocean, in the northwest; Florida, Louisiana, and Southern Texas in the south; the whole vast area between the 32d and 46th parallels of latitude, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean--in extent equivalent to three-fourths of all Europe--is suited to the production of wheat, rye, barley, Indian corn, oats, hay, potatoes, and every fruit found in temperate climates. There are no frosts to render agriculture a mere speculative enterprise; no bonds of ice to close the ports to commerce. Seed-time and harvest may be counted upon as certainly as the succession of seasons. Can there be a doubt that here the material interest forming the basis of all others is agriculture? We have no exact data for a comparison of the several products of the United States and British America; but for our immediate purpose it is quite unnecessary to present tables of statistics. We refer only to chief products. First--of those common to both countries, the productions of the United States are to the productions of Canada and the Lower Provinces as 13 to 1. The whole agricultural products of the United States, excluding those of orchards, vineyards, and gardens--which would present a still wider difference--are to those of Canada as 15 to 1. The annual yield of Indian corn in the United States is worth upwards of $800,000,000, or about five times the entire value of the agricultural product of British America. If we include in the comparison the values of animals and animal products, orchards, vineyards, and gardens, the proportion is something nearer 30 to 1, while the breadth of improved land is not as 10 to 1. And this while the breadth of our improved land is not more than one-thirteenth of our territory--though double the whole area of Great Britain and Ireland--and while any great expansion of agriculture in Canada is forbidden by the conditions of soil and climate. Are not these considerations sufficient to show the absurdity of persistence in the development of _rivalry_ in agricultural and commercial interests? Do we not see that in the United States agriculture is legitimately the greatest industrial interest, and that in Canada it is not? And we may well ask why the industrial population of Canada should not be employed in utilizing its timber and other products of the forest and the mine, or, where material is more readily found in the neighboring country, using the forces so abundantly provided by their inland waters and mines of coal, as well as by the muscle half-wasted for want of use, in supplying fabrics which they now import, and pay for by the scanty labors of just half the time that God has given them? These considerations are in some degree applicable to New England. The difference is, that New England knows it, and acts upon the knowledge.

Manufacturing is the appropriate industry of cold climates. When this is acknowledged, hibernation ceases. The people are no longer forced to eke out a meagre existence in winter upon the slender profits of toil spent in contention with chilling winds and frosts. True, Canada--a small part of it--produces bread for export. We know it: and we also know that every loaf costs twice as much, in human toil, as the better loaf yielded by the more generous soils and genial suns of Illinois, Minnesota, Iowa, New York, Ohio, Maryland, Virginia, and California. Canada produces good beef, mutton, pork, and, of course, the raw materials for manufactures incident to these products. But the herdsmen on the plains of Illinois, Iowa, Florida, and Texas would grow rich in selling beeves, swine, and sheep for the cost of their keeping through a Canadian winter!

On the other hand, we see, in some parts of our own country, whole communities of people engaged in mechanical industries, while the earth calls for tillage. Even in our more populous territories, enough of what should be fruitful lands to yield subsistence to a larger population than Canada will ever contain, lies fallow and neglected. But our commercial relations are adverse to the proper adjustment of industrial pursuits.

The Canadians dare not rely upon their neighbors for bread to eat, any more than those neighbors would venture to build their workshops and factories in Canada. The more venturesome try to obviate the difficulty, to some extent, by illicit trade; but all the obstacles to legitimate commerce--to the conveniences of living--remain; and they must remain as long as the American and Canadian producers have to pay tribute to Cæsar on exchanging the fruits of their labors. Reciprocity treaties may modify, but they cannot remove, this great obstacle to prosperous trade.

Treaties regulating trade cannot so change the industries of the two countries as to confine large agricultural enterprises to the soil and climate that would insure success, nor send the artisan, now living on rich uncultivated lands, to till the earth. What means the extraordinary emigration from Canada to the States? And how can we account for the sudden expansion of manufacturing industries in Montreal and other Canadian towns? It means that, while governments are discussing treaties for reciprocal trade, their people are practising reciprocal emigration--but with a difference. The Canadian becomes an American citizen--the American very rarely a British subject. We recollect two incidents in our own experience apropos to the matter under consideration.

Some two years ago we passed a summer in the "Lower Provinces." In the parlor of our hotel, we fell into conversation with an intelligent man of business who proved to be a commercial traveller from Canada. His specialty was boots and shoes. On mentioning that Lynn, in Massachusetts, was the great shoe factory of "the States," his reply was, "Yes! the head of our firm is from Lynn." Lynn had gone to Montreal to employ Canadian hands in turning Canadian leather into boots and shoes to supply colonial markets. "The head of our firm," like other heads of firms, had solved the problem of appropriate industry as far as he was concerned. He had learned where material, and hands to work it, were cheapest, and he was utilizing them. He had emigrated to employ the cheap labor that could not emigrate. At another time, we met a well-dressed mechanic who was not at _home_. His home was in "the States." He was only visiting his birthplace and kindred. In reply to the remark that the high wages which had enticed him to the States were only high in sound, since greenbacks were at a great discount, and food, clothing, and rent at inflated prices, his reply evinced a perfect understanding of the whole question, as it affected him and the class to which he belonged.

"True," said he, "I am paid in greenbacks; but I have a better house, better food, and better clothes than I ever had before. And at the end of the year, my surplus greenbacks are worth more, _in gold_, than I could get for a year's labor in this colony."

Here are two parties whose interests are reciprocal, whose social conditions are essentially the same, who live in juxtaposition to each other, but with broad ocean between them and other countries and peoples, frittering away material interests, wasting revenues that of right should be employed for their advancement in social life, to gratify a spirit of antagonism where even rivalry should be deemed insane. But is there no remedy for these disorders in our political economy? We think there is a very obvious one; and if we may not say, "What God has joined together, let not man put asunder," because the parties are not agreed, we can and do say, the sooner they are agreed, the better for both. We would say to Canada, do not waste your time and strength in trying to effect impossibilities. Let us see your many rivers alive with the artisans who can send to the market something else than ship-timber and deals. Let us see the smoke of the forge and the foundry rise in proximity to your mines of coal. We want all that you can make, and have no fear that you will in any degree impair the prosperity of our own industrial people. And we will pay you in bread, better and cheaper than you can get from your colder and less fruitful lands. And when your coarser materials are wrought into shape for export, we have skilled labor, nearer than Britain, to receive your surplus products and fashion them into the thousand fabrics which only skilled labor can supply.

We have no desire to see your wheat-fields fail or to decry their products in the market. We only say that they are too limited for dangerous competition with ours. And we further say, that if you will but develop other and more legitimate industries, so that your wheat-growing districts cannot feed your people, we will be sure to have bread enough and to spare. And you may be also sure that all your efforts will not so overstock the markets we can offer as to make trade languish, when the thousands now peopling this continent shall become millions, though the Old World should want nothing that you can give. And, then, you have but a doubtful road to the markets of the Old World. For half the year your highway to the ocean and to other lands must be across our territory. Intercolonial railways through unsettled and unproductive countries will not answer the demands of commerce. They will not pay; and, if they would, the interests served ought not to be so burdened where access may be had to readier and cheaper lines of communication.

Does all this imply annexation? Call it what you will. As one of your Canadian statesmen said to the people of a lesser province, "If you do not want us to annex you, we are willing that you should annex us." If you are more conservative than we are, a little conservatism will do us no harm; and the interests you would conserve would be quite as safe under the eagle's beak as under the lion's paw. If one be a bird, the other is surely a beast of prey; and we believe that harmless folk have less to apprehend from one alone than from the jealous rivalries of both.

Of one thing we feel assured: the time is not far distant when the people of this northern half of America will have to adopt a policy so distinct from that of the older nations of Europe that self-preservation will demand a union of power where there is now an evident identity of interests.

It were well that this union should be preceded by such guarantees of existing rights and privileges as might, without specific and just conventions, be open to subsequent question and dispute. And it were also well for governments to direct the march which necessity compels their people to make, rather than incur the risk of finding themselves at variance with those for whose greater good civil government is designed. We do not purpose to discuss the origin or foundation of civil government. It is enough for us to know that man requires and God wills it; and that, in the absence of other and higher sanctions, the best evidence of his will is found in the intelligent, honest consent of the governed. Does any one doubt what the more intelligent and honest people of Canada and the United States require? We do not ask what may be the _rôle_ of the political adventurer, the office-seeker, the government speculator or tuft-hunter. We always know that the end of all their loyalty or patriotism is self. But we ask what is needed for the greater good of the people. Not alone the people of to-day or to-morrow, but of the future as well. How the people of to-day esteem the policy of their lawgivers, may be known by their conduct under it. And the army of government revenue officers and detectives on either side along the frontiers of Canada and "the States" offers sufficient evidence of the esteem in which the laws of trade are held. We know not which is the more corrupt--the law-breakers or the agents of the law; but we do know, from the notoriety of the fact, that the commercial relations now existing between the Canadas and the States are, in effect, so demoralizing, to commercial people and commercial interests, that the laws which propose to govern them were better abrogated than left to offer a premium to chicanery and fraud.

We are neither alarmists nor political propagandists. We have no greedy desire for our neighbor's goods, no fanatical wish to impose our political dogmas or theories upon the people of other states. We but behold and see what is before and around us--and, seeing it, we only give utterance to belief that has grown and strengthened, until scarcely a doubt remains, when we say that we believe the ultimate union of the United States and British America to be inevitable. The time may be more or less distant, the occasion and the means may be as yet undreamed of; but the event seems as certain as the coming of the morrow's sun while the shades of evening gather over and around us. If, unfortunately, war should take the place of peaceful union, the calamity would hardly be less to us than to Canada.

By peaceful union, existing rights of the weaker party are made secure. By war, they are jeopardized and may be lost. But to us, as well as to them, war would be a calamity of such fearful magnitude, that we are constrained to look with hope to the time when the conflicting interests of the Old World shall have no power to disturb the peaceful relations that should always exist between ourselves and our neighbors.

ON THE HIGHER EDUCATION.

SECOND ARTICLE.

The whole scope of the subject properly comprised under the title "Higher Education" obviously includes all that belongs to every kind of institute of learning above common schools. We have selected this title in order to leave freedom to ourselves to discourse upon any part of the subject we might think proper, although in our first article we limited our remarks to a class of schools intended for that which is more strictly to be designated as intermediate education. We have a few additional remarks to offer upon the same part of our subject, after which we will proceed to throw out a few suggestions upon some of its remaining and still more important portions. We are not attempting to treat these topics fully and minutely, and our observations will be, therefore, brief and desultory.

In regard to the course of studies to be pursued in intermediate schools, it is a question of great practical moment how to arrange the several branches to be taught to the pupils in such a way as to prepare them most efficiently for the future occupations of their lives. The course common to all ought to be made up of those studies which are alike necessary or important to all. In addition to these common studies, certain special branches should be taught, or the distinct branches of the common course more extensively carried out, for distinct classes of pupils, varying these optional studies according to the different occupations for which they are preparing. For instance, a moderate quantity of mathematics and a rudimental, general course of instruction in physical sciences are sufficient for all, except those who will need greater knowledge and practice in them for use in their profession. It is useless to attempt, in these days, education on the encyclopædic principle. The common and solid basis of all education once laid, the more specific it becomes, the better; and for want of good sense and skill in selecting studies, apportioning the relative time and labor given to them, and directing them to a definite end, very great waste and loss are incurred in education.

One other most important point, which we merely notice, is the propriety of providing the most thorough instruction in the modern languages, especially the French, which can more easily be done, as we suppose, in the schools of which we are speaking, that no time whatever, or at most but a moderate amount, is given to the ancient languages. Without going further into details, it is obvious that schools of the intermediate class have an unlimited sphere in which they can give any kind and degree of instruction belonging to the most extensive and liberal education, deducting the classics, and stopping short of the university, properly so called. Nor is there any reason why, if we had universities in the highest sense of the term, the pupils of these schools should not afterward enjoy all the privileges they offer which do not require a knowledge of the ancient languages. We will not say anything on the vexed classical question. Did it seem to be practicable, we should strongly favor making the study of Latin a part of the education of all who go beyond the common rudiments, as well girls as boys, to such an extent that they could understand the divine offices of the church. For all other uses or advantages, we are inclined to think that many pupils who occupy a great deal of time in gaining a very imperfect smattering of Latin and Greek, might better spare it for other studies.[15]

However the question may be eventually settled in regard to the classics as a part of general education, it is certain that they must retain their place in the education of the clergy, and of at least a select portion of those who are destined for other learned pursuits and professions. We shall speak more fully about this part of the subject a little further on. Before leaving the topic of English education, however, we have one or two supplementary observations to make, suggested by the remarks of other writers which we have come across since we began writing the present article.

F. Dalgairns, in an article which he has published in the _Contemporary Review_, has expressed himself in a manner quite similar to our own respecting the necessity of a return to the scholastic philosophy. His remarks have given us great pleasure, and they furnish one more proof of the tendency toward unity in philosophical doctrine among Catholics which is daily spreading and gaining strength. One observation of his on this head is specially worthy of attention. He says that it is necessary, if we desire to teach the scholastic philosophy to those who have received or are receiving a modern or English education, to translate and explain its terms in the best and most intelligible English. A mere literal translation from Latin text-books will not answer the purpose. This is very true, and we cannot refrain from expressing the wish that the health and occupations of F. Dalgairns may permit him to write an entire series of philosophical essays, like the one he has just published on the _Soul_, to which we have just referred. Indeed, we know of no one better fitted by intellectual aptitude for metaphysical reasoning and mastery of the requisite art as a writer, to prepare a manual of philosophy for English students.

The _Dublin Review_ has repeated and sanctioned the observations of F. Dalgairns, and has added something to them equally worthy to be noticed--to wit, that our Catholic text-books of logic need to be improved by incorporating into them the results of the more careful and thorough analysis of the laws of logic which has been made by several English writers. It is very true that, although the English metaphysic is a sorry affair, there have been several very acute logicians among modern English thinkers; as, for instance, Mr. Mill, Mr. De Morgan, and Sir William Hamilton. We suppose that the _Dublin Review_ intends to designate the doctrine of what is technically called the "quantification of the predicate" made known by the two authors last mentioned, simultaneously and independently of each other, as a real discovery in logical science, and an addition to Aristotle's laws. We hope the matter will be further discussed, and that not only English and American writers interested in the subject of philosophical teaching will give it their attention, but Continental scholars also. For our own part, our _rôle_ at present is the modest one of giving hints and provoking discussion, and we therefore abstain from going any deeper than a mere scratch of the rich soil we hope to see well dug and planted before long.

From another and very different quarter, we have found within a day or two a corroboration of several opinions we expressed in our first article. Prof. Seeley, of the University of Cambridge, England, in a little volume of essays, noticed by us in another place, advocates the teaching of logic in English schools, dwells on the importance of teaching history after a better method, and sketches out a plan of improving the instruction given in medium schools and universities, which is well worthy of being read and thought over by those who have the direction of education.

But we will turn now to another and still higher department of education, which embraces the courses of study proper to the university and the schools which are preparatory to it. Beginning with that branch of study which must undoubtedly still continue to form an essential and principal branch of the strictly collegiate education, the classics, we do not hesitate to say that this branch, instead of being less, ought to be more thoroughly and completely cultivated. In so far as Latin is concerned, it is evident that those who aim at anything more than the degree of knowledge requisite for understanding better the modern languages, and the terms which are in common use derived from Latin, or, perhaps, for a more intelligent appreciation of church offices, ought to master the language fully, together with its classical literature. The reasons which prove this statement apply with tenfold force to ecclesiastics, for whom Latin ought to be a second mother-tongue. It is not necessary to give these reasons, for they are well known and fully appreciated by all who are concerned with the collegiate or ecclesiastical education of Catholic youth.

The question of Greek is a distinct one. For those who study the classics for the sake of their intrinsic value as works of art, Greek has the precedence of Latin in importance. It is evident, therefore, that a most thorough and extensive course of Greek is necessary for students of this class. Whether such a course ought to be made a part of the obligatory collegiate curriculum of studies, or merely provided for a select class who may choose to enter upon it, we leave to the discretion and judgment of the learned. Undoubtedly, we ought to have a certain number of accomplished Grecians among our men of letters. It is necessary in the interests of ecclesiastical learning that we should have thorough Greek scholars among our clergy. For all useful purposes, however, the value of the amount of Greek actually learned by the majority is exceedingly small, and not to be compared with the practical utility of a knowledge of any one of several modern languages, for example, the German. A clergyman, for instance, who does not aspire to become a learned philologist, but only to make himself acquainted with the labors of the best commentators on the Scripture, will not find it very necessary to be able to read the Septuagint or the Greek New Testament. As for Hebrew, whatever can be learned by a short and superficial course will be almost useless. If he desires to read Aristotle, Plato, or the Greek fathers, for the sake of their sense and ideas, he can do so in the Latin translations without any fear of being led into any erroneous interpretation. The point we are driving at is, that the thorough study of Latin is the most essential thing to be secured in a _classical_ course. Philosophy; a moderate course of mathematics; the English language and literature; the physical sciences, and the modern languages, especially the French, are the other essentials of a complete collegiate course. Whatever time remains will be most usefully employed in the study of history and of modern political and social questions, branches which are certainly essential to a complete liberal education, though for many, or perhaps most, students their thorough cultivation may have to be postponed until after their college course is finished. The improvement of the collegiate education in all these branches, requires, of course, a corresponding improvement in the preparatory schools, since the school and college depend on each other. It is our opinion, in which we are sure that the men most experienced in these matters concur, that those who begin their schooling at the earliest suitable age need to be well trained in an excellent preparatory school until the age of seventeen, before they are fit to profit fully by a high collegiate course. Those who begin later must enter college at a more advanced age, unless they can make up by diligence for lost time, or be content with a shorter course of study. The raising of the conditions for entering college, which can be done gradually, must improve the preparatory schools, and the improvement of these schools will in turn benefit the colleges, by furnishing them with subjects fitted for a higher course of studies.

In saying this, we beg to disavow any intention of undervaluing or finding fault with the colleges and schools at present existing, or the learned and laborious corps of teachers employed in them. They deserve the highest meed of praise and gratitude, and we may well congratulate ourselves on the truly vast work which has been accomplished, at great cost and by dint of great efforts, in the cause of Catholic education in this country. But our motto should ever be, like that of the past generations of laborers in this great cause, "Upward and onward!" We trust, therefore, that all we may say in favor of improvement will be taken as an encouragement and not as a fault-finding criticism--as a friendly suggestion, and not as a presumptuous attempt at dictation.

We have now reached the proper place for speaking of the great necessity of a Catholic University in the United States. A well-conducted college for undergraduates is not a university, though it is often dignified with that name; but is merely one of the principal constituent parts of a university. In regard to the proper constitution, nature, and conduct of a university, much has been written, of late, both in Europe and America. In Europe, those who write on the subject either consider the subject of improvement or reform in universities already existing, or the demands existing in various quarters for the foundation of new ones. These last are chiefly among Catholics, who are extremely alive to this necessity in several countries, but especially in Germany and England. The foundation of a great Catholic University for Germany at the spot which is most appropriate for such a grand undertaking, on account of its hallowed and scholastic memories, Fulda, has been determined. We hope that the efforts to make the Catholic University of Dublin completely successful, and to found another in England, may speedily produce their desired result. In this country, the heads of the older Protestant colleges are considering what measures can be taken to raise these institutions to the level of the universities of Europe. Among the papers which we have read from different quarters on this subject, those of Professor Seeley, of Cambridge, and of one or two professors of Yale College, writing in the _New Englander_, have especially attracted our attention; and we may have occasion to reproduce some of their remarks or suggestions in the present article. Among the Catholics of the United States, the Germans have manifested what looks like the most serious disposition which has yet shown itself for taking the actual initiative in the movement. We rejoice to see it, and hope they may go on. They are a most respectable body; their energy, wealth, and power of organized action are great. Germany is full of young ecclesiastics of the best education, who are sighing for employment, and competent to fill chairs in all the departments except that of English literature. We have but one precaution to suggest, in case this enterprise is undertaken, which is: that proper care be taken to secure the entire subordination of the corps of governors and teachers to the hierarchy and the Holy See, and to ascertain the strict orthodoxy of the persons called to fill the professorial chairs. We want no followers of Hermes, Döllinger, or any other leader of a German sect in philosophy or theology; and persons of that class whose _rôle_ is played out at home, might be the very first to look out for a new field in which to practise their manœuvres, in a German University in the United States, if they saw a chance of securing in it the desirable position of professors--a position which has special attractions for the German mind.

The _Advocate_ of Louisville has recently spoken out very strongly on the need of a Catholic University in this country; and the topic is frequently broached in conversation, as, indeed, it has been for the last fifteen years. Let the Germans go forward and take the lead if they are able and willing; but this will not lessen the necessity of the same action on the part of the other Catholics of the country, who, we may hope, will be stimulated by the example of a body of men so much smaller in number than themselves. When the time comes for action in this matter, the direction of it will be in higher hands than ours; but, meanwhile, we will indulge ourselves in the at least harmless amusement of sketching an ideal plan of the university as it lies in our own imagination, and of the possible method of making it a reality.

A university is a corporation of learned and studious men who are devoted to the acquisition and communication of science and art in all their higher branches. It may be more or less complete and extensive. In its greatest extension it ought to comprise one or more colleges for undergraduates, schools of all the special professional studies, and a school of the higher and more profound studies in every department of literature and science. It must have a permanent body of learned men residing within its precincts, whose lives are entirely devoted to study and instruction. It must have a vast library; museums of science and antiquities; a gallery of painting, sculpture, and all kinds of artistic works; a complete scientific apparatus, a botanical garden, magnificent buildings, beautiful chapels, and a grand collegiate church, with its chapter of clergymen and perfectly trained choir. It should have, also, a great publishing-house, and issue regularly its periodical reviews and magazines, as well as books, of the first class of excellence in the several distinct departments of science and letters. It must be richly endowed, and well governed, under the supreme control and direction of the hierarchy and the Holy See. A plan combining the chief distinctive features of the Roman University, Oxford, Louvain, and the best universities of France and Germany, with some improvements, would represent the full and complete idea we have in our mind.

When we come to the practical question. What could be done now, at once, toward the beginning of such a colossal undertaking? it is by no means so easy to solve it as it is to sketch the plan of our ideal university. We do not fancy, of course, that such a grand institution as this we have described, or even one similar to the best existing European universities, can be created in a hurry by any speedy or summary process. But if it is commenced now, can it not be brought to completion by the beginning of the twentieth century? It seems to us that in the year 1900 or 1925 we shall need not one only, but three grand Catholic universities in the United States. That we can and ought to begin the work of founding one without delay, we have no doubt. The difficulty is, however, in pointing out a sensible and feasible method of doing well what many or most of us are ready to acknowledge ought to be done quickly. Let us suppose that the requisite authority and the necessary funds are confided to the hands of the proper commission, who are to lay the first stones in the foundation of a university. How should they proceed, and what should they first undertake? As these high powers exist only potentially and in our own imagination, we can be certain that they will not take offence if we presume to offer them our opinion and advice.

What is the first and most obvious want which we seek to satisfy by founding a university? It is the want of a collegiate system of education and discipline superior to the one already existing in our colleges, and equal to any existing elsewhere. The first thing to be done, then, is to select some already existing college, or to establish a new one, as the nucleus of the future university. We will suppose that some one of our best colleges can be found which has the requisite advantages of location, etc., making it an eligible place for a great university. Let measures be taken to place the grade of education and instruction in this college at the highest mark. The first of these measures must be to give it a corps of professors and tutors fully equal to their task, and to make the position of these professors a dignified, honorable, and permanent one. Another measure of immediate necessity would be the total separation of the college from the grammar-school, and the establishment of a system of discipline suitable not for boys but for young men. The mere announcement by sufficiently high authority that such a system would be inaugurated in a college, would draw at once within its walls students enough eager to begin a thorough course of study, to secure the success of the experiment. At first, the course of study already in vogue might be carried on, merely adding to it such branches as would not presuppose a previous preparation not actually possessed by the students. For admission to the class of the next year to come, the conditions might be raised one grade higher, and thus by successive changes, previously made known, the maximum standard might be reached without inconvenience or injustice to any; and the grammar-schools would be enabled and obliged to prepare their pupils expressly for the examination they would have to pass for admittance into the college. The college thus properly planted and cultivated would grow of itself in due time to maturity and perfection. Nothing more is wanted than a good system, fit men to administer it, plenty of money, and a body of youth fit and desirous to be instructed and educated in the best manner. The library, the scientific cabinets, the philosophical apparatus, the buildings, grounds, and other exterior means and appliances, should be provided for as speedily and amply as circumstances would permit.

The second great want, in our opinion, is the provision for ecclesiastical students of the advantages for education which can only be completely furnished by a university, and which cannot, therefore, be fully enjoyed at separate ecclesiastical seminaries. The Little Seminary is only a superior kind of grammar-school, even though it gives instruction in the ancient languages and some other branches to the same extent with a college. The Grand Seminary is, strictly speaking, a college for instruction in theology, although it includes a year or two of that study of philosophy which is only introductory to the theological course. A thorough university course, in which all the instruction preparatory to theology should be finished, would give a more complete and thorough education to young ecclesiastics, fit them much better for their professional studies, and prepare them much more efficaciously for the high position which belongs, by all divine and human right, to the priesthood. This is the way in which the clergy, both secular and regular, were trained during the Middle Ages. The system of separate training came in afterward, and has been kept up by a sort of necessity, chiefly because the universities have become so secularized as to be dangerous places. We have touched, in these last words, the tender spot, which we well know must be handled delicately. The great argument for secluding young ecclesiastics in seminaries entirely separate from secular colleges is, that their morals, their piety, their vocation, are otherwise endangered. We reply to this by a suggestion intended to do away with the objection to a university life, and at the same time to show how its advantages may be secured. Let both systems be combined. Let there be a college exclusively intended for young ecclesiastics, in which they shall be kept under the discipline of the Little Seminary, at the university. The Little Seminary will then take its place as a separate grammar-school for boys who are intended for the ecclesiastical state. From this school they can pass, not before their seventeenth year, to the college at the university, and they will have seven years still remaining in which to finish their education, before they arrive at the canonical age for ordination to the priesthood. It seems to us that the separate college is a sufficient security for the morals, piety, and vocation of any young man above seventeen years of age who is fit to be a priest in this country outside of the walls of a monastery. Moreover, we are speaking about a model Catholic university, which, we should hope, would not be so extremely dangerous a place for young men. We have never heard that Louvain is considered in that light by the clergy of Belgium, and the glimpse we had of a large body of the Louvain students at Malines during the session of the Congress of 1867, gave us the most favorable impression of their virtuous character.

The university should also be the seat of the principal Grand Seminary, and of a school of Higher Theology. The reasons for locating the place of education for ecclesiastics at a university apply to all the grades of their distinct schools above that of the grammar-school with nearly equal force, and they are very weighty in their nature. They concern in part the professors and in part the students. So far as the former are concerned, it is evident that they would derive the greatest advantage from the facilities for study and intercourse with learned men afforded by the university, and would exercise the most salutary influence over the professors in the departments of philosophy and secular science. One great end of the university is to collect together a great body of learned men devoted to the pursuit of universal science; and it is obvious that this cannot be successfully accomplished unless the ecclesiastical colleges are included within the corporation.

In regard to the students, it seems plain enough that all that part of their course which precedes theology can be much more thoroughly carried on at a university of the highest class than at a Little Seminary, especially if these seminaries are numerous and therefore necessarily limited in numbers and all kinds of means for improvement. A concentration of the endowments, the instructors, and the pupils in one grand institution, makes it possible to give a much better and higher kind of education, and saves a great deal of labor besides. It is especially, however, in relation to the lectures on physical science, and the cultivation of other general branches distinct from the routine of class recitations, that the university has the advantage over the seminary. The students of theology, moreover, can receive great benefit from lectures of this kind, and from the libraries, museums, cabinets, etc., which a great university will possess, as well as from the greater ability and learning which men chosen to fill the chairs of sacred science in such an institution are likely to have, in comparison with those who can be made available for giving instruction in many of the smaller seminaries. Over and above all these advantages for actually gaining a greater amount of knowledge, there is the immense advantage to be gained of bringing up together and binding into one intellectual brotherhood our most highly educated Catholic youth. There is something in the atmosphere and the surroundings of a great university which quickens and enlarges the intellectual life; brightens the faculties; trains the mind for its future career, and fits it to act in society and upon men. The alma mater is a centre of influences and associations lasting through life. The learned men residing there, and their pupils in all professions, are bound together by sacred ties, which are not only a cause of pleasure to them in future years, but of great power for good in the community. Such a university as we have described would in twenty-five years produce a body of alumni who would intellectually exert a great influence over the Catholic community throughout the United States, and make themselves respected by all classes of educated men. The clergy ought to retain the first place and a commanding influence among this body of educated Catholics. For this purpose, it seems to us that they ought to be educated with them, and look to the same university as their alma mater.

We see no reason, moreover, why the religious orders and congregations should not share and co-operate in the labors and advantages of this great enterprise. The smaller congregations find the suitable education of their postulants a difficult task. One or more colleges at a university, where these students could reside by themselves, under their own rule and superior, but receiving their instruction from the university professors, would solve this difficulty. The older and more numerous religious societies have greater facilities for educating their students, and are governed by their own old and peculiar traditions. We will not presume so far as to give them any suggestions from our modern brain in regard to matters in which they have the experience of from one to six centuries. It strikes us, however, as a very pleasing and quite mediæval idea, that our proposed grand university, which we may as well make as splendid as possible while it remains purely ideal, should have its Dominican, Jesuit, Sulpician, and Lazarist colleges. There is no reason why such colleges should not make constituent parts of the university, each one having its own laws and regulating its own internal affairs according to its own standards.

We will say nothing about the law, medical, scientific, and artistic schools which a university ought to have to make it complete.

We have only attempted to show how a university might be started on its career. Once really alive and in motion, the rest would be more easily provided for. Undoubtedly, a vast sum of money would be requisite for such an undertaking. Our wealthy Catholics would have to exercise a princely liberality, and the whole mass of the people would be obliged to contribute generously for many years in succession. We must admire the remarkable instances of princely liberality in the cause of general education recently given by Mr. Peabody, Mr. Cornell, and a considerable number of other wealthy gentlemen in the United States, whose benefactions to colleges and schools have been frequent and munificent. Let us have one-twentieth part of the money expended on education by other religious or learned societies, and we will show again what we did in former ages, when we founded Oxford, Cambridge, St. Gall, Bec, Paris, Salamanca, Fulda, Louvain, Cologne, Pavia, Padua, Bologna, and the other famous schools of the middle ages. What more important or more glorious work can be proposed to the Catholics of the United States than this? We know what our Catholic youth are, for we have spent much time in giving them both scholastic and religious instruction. What can be more ingenuous, bright, and promising than their character--more capable of being moulded and formed to everything that is virtuous and noble? They contain the material which only needs the proper formation to produce a new and better age, which we fervently hope is already beginning to dawn. As the Alcuins, Lanfrancs, and other illustrious fathers of education in former times were among the principal agents in producing epochs of new life, so those who take up their work now in our own country, and throughout Christendom, will be among the principal benefactors of the church and the human race, and deserve for themselves a most honorable crown.

Our topic in the present article has led us to present almost exclusively and in strong light the advantages to be derived from a university and from university education, in relation both to the ecclesiastical state and secular professions. To prevent mistake, we add in conclusion, that we do not desire or anticipate the suppression or merging into one institution of all our colleges and seminaries. It is scarcely possible that all the students of this vast country should be educated in one place. The necessity for other colleges and seminaries will of itself create or continue them. The university will give them an example and model to follow, will furnish those not already amply provided for from the bosom of old and learned religious orders with professors, will give those who desire it a chance to complete their studies after leaving college by residing for a time within its walls, and will reign as a queen among lesser institutions, giving tone, character, and uniformity to the scientific and literary community of Catholic scholars throughout the country. There are doubtless certain respects in which the universities of Europe must always have an advantage over any institution we can hope to found in this new country. Some, or even many, will always have a longing for a residence abroad in these ancient seats of learning, which they may and ought to gratify, when it lies in their power to do so. Above all other places, Rome must ever draw to her those who desire to drink faith, piety, and knowledge from their fountain-head. And, if a better age is really coming, not only will the Pope necessarily be secured in a more tranquil and firm possession of his temporal kingdom in all the extent which he justly claims, that he may govern the church with all the plenitude of his supremacy, but also that the wealth and prosperity of the Roman Church may give to her institutions of learning an amplitude and splendor which they have never yet attained. Planets are nevertheless necessary as well as a sun in a system, and so also are satellites. However ample and extensive the provisions made at Rome may be for educating a select portion of the clergy of all countries, they can never make it unnecessary to provide also in every country for the best and highest education of its own clergy. So far as we can see, every reason and consideration cries out imperatively for the speedy foundation of a Catholic University in the United States.

FOOTNOTE:

[15] Prof. Seeley advocates the plan of devoting a part of the time during the last two years at English schools to Latin. The proper study of English must also include in it an analysis of the Latin element, and an explanation of the derivation of words of Latin origin.

THE WARNING.

Ye nations of earth, give ear, give ear, From Holy Writ comes the warning true, The voice of the ancient captive seer Through the dim-aisled centuries reaches you.

Thus saith the seer: "Ye have lifted high Against his altar your impious hand; From the Lord's spoiled house is heard the cry, 'Destruction swift to this guilty land.'"

But a deeper than Belshazzar's wrong Veils the light of these mournful years, And many an eye in the saintly throng Turns from the earth bedimmed with tears.

The Holy City by promise given, A precious dower to the spotless bride, Is trodden by feet outlawed, unshriven, And her streets with martyrs' blood are dyed.

The crown that ever has fallen as light On holy brows, from the Hand above, Has been torn away by sinful might From him whose rule was a father's love.

The deed was by one; the sin by all; By ay, or by silence, ye gave assent; Ye saw the shrine to the spoiler fall, Nor hand ye lifted, nor aid ye lent.

O nations of earth! give ear, give ear, From Holy Writ comes the warning true, The voice of the ancient captive seer, From the far-off ages, speaks to you!

WRITING MATERIALS OF THE ANCIENTS.

It is curious to remark the various and apparently incongruous substances which men, in their efforts to preserve knowledge or transmit ideas, have used as writing materials. The animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms have each and all been laid under contribution. In every land and in every age, stone and marble have been employed to perpetuate the remembrance of the great deeds of history. Inscriptions cut in jasper, cornelian, and agate are to be met with in every collection of antiquities. A cone of basalt covered with cuneiform characters was found some years since in the river Euphrates, and is now preserved in the Imperial Library of Paris, side by side with the sun-baked bricks on which the Babylonian astronomers were wont during seven centuries to inscribe their observations on the starry heavens.

The Romans made books of bronze, in which they engraved the concessions granted to their colonies; and they preserved on tablets and pillars of the same durable material the decrees and treaties of the senate, and sometimes, even, the speeches of their emperors.

"The Bœotians," says the learned Greek geographer Pausanias, "showed me a roll of lead on which was inscribed the whole work of Hesiod, but in characters that time had nearly effaced."

"Who will grant me," cries Job, "that my words may be written? who will grant me that they may be marked down in a book? With an iron pen and in a plate of lead, or else be graven with an instrument in flintstone?" (xix. 23 24.)

Tanned skins were likewise employed for writing purposes by the Asiatics, the Greeks, the Romans, and the Celts. In the Brussels library there is to be seen a manuscript of the Pentateuch, believed to be anterior to the ninth century, written on fifty-seven skins sewed together, and forming a roll more than thirty-six yards long.

The custom of writing on leathern garments appears to have been prevalent during the middle ages. The great Italian poet, Petrarch, used to wear a leathern vest, on which, while sitting or sauntering near the shaded margin of the fountain of Vaucluse, he would note each passing thought, each poetic fancy. This precious relic, covered with erasures, still existed in 1527.

We read, too, of a certain abbot who strictly enjoined his monks, if they happened to meet with any of the works of St. Athanasius, to transcribe the precious volumes on their clothes, should paper be unattainable.

The use of prepared sheep-skin, that is, parchment, dates from about a hundred and fifty years before the Christian era; its Latin name, _pergamena_, is very evidently derived from Pergamos, but whether because invented there, or because it was more perfectly prepared in that city than elsewhere, is a question not yet decided. Besides white and yellow parchment, the ancients employed purple, blue, and violet. These dark shades were intended to be written on with gold and silver ink. Several very beautiful manuscripts of this description are to be seen in the Imperial Library of Paris. Parchment manuscripts were sometimes of great size; thus, the roll containing the inquiry concerning the Knights Templars, which is still preserved in the archives of France, is full twenty-three yards long.

Parchment became very scarce during the invasions of the barbarians, and this scarcity gave rise to the custom of effacing the characters of ancient manuscripts in order to write a second time on the skin. This unfortunate practice, most prevalent among the Romans, and which was continued until the invention of rag paper, has occasioned the loss of many literary and scientific treasures. The primitive characters of some few of these doubly-written manuscripts, or palimpsests, as they are called, have been restored by chemical science, and several valuable works recovered; among others, for instance, Cicero's admirable treatise on the Republic.

Even the intestines of animals have been used as writing material. The magnificent library of Constantinople, burnt under the Emperor of the East, Basiliscus, is said to have contained, among its other curiosities, the Iliad and the Odyssey, traced in letters of gold on the intestine of a serpent. This rare specimen of caligraphy measured one hundred and twenty feet.

The most ancient inscribed characters we possess are upon wood. A sycamore tablet containing an engraved inscription was discovered, about thirty years since, in one of the Memphis pyramids; the learned Egyptologist who deciphered it pronounced it to have been in existence some five thousand nine hundred years! The Chinese, also, before they invented paper two thousand years ago, wrote upon wood and bamboo. Many oriental nations still make books of palm-leaves, on which the characters are scratched with a sharp-pointed instrument. The Syracusans of bygone times used to write their votes on an olive-leaf. The modern Maldivians trace their hopes, fears, and wishes on the gigantic foliage of their favorite tree, the makareko, of which each leaf is a yard long and half a yard wide. The Imperial Library of Paris, rich in all that is rare and interesting, possesses several ancient leaf manuscripts, some beautifully varnished and gilt.

In Rome, before the use of bronze tables and columns, the laws were engraven on oak boards. "The annals of the pagan high-priests," says a French writer, "which related day by day the principal events of the year, were probably written with black ink on an _album_, that is, a wooden plank whitened with white-lead. These annals ceased a hundred and twenty years before Christ, but the use of the _album_ was kept up some time longer." The Romans also wrote their wills on wood.

Linen cloth covered with writing has been found in most of the mummy-cases that have been opened. The Egyptian Museum in the Louvre contains several rituals on cloth. The Sibylline Oracles were traced on cloth. The first copy of the Emperor Aurelian's journal that was made after his death was written on cloth, and is still preserved in the Library of the Vatican. On cloth were written also some of the edicts of the first Christian emperors.

No certain epoch can be ascribed to the fabrication of paper from the papyrus reed. The celebrated French _savant_, Champollion the younger, discovered during his travels in Egypt several contracts written on papyrus, which by their date must have been drawn up seventeen hundred years B.C.

Egypt appears to have kept the monopoly of the papyrus paper trade. The principal manufactories of it were situated at Alexandria, and so important an article of commerce did it become that a dearth of papyrus was the cause of several popular disturbances in some of the great cities of Italy and Greece. Under the Emperor Tiberius, a scarcity in the supply produced so formidable a riot in Rome, that the senate was compelled to take measures similar to those necessary in years of famine, and actually had to name commissaries, whose duty it was to distribute to each citizen the quantity of writing-paper he absolutely required.

The papyrus reed seems indeed to have been ancient Egypt's greatest material blessing, for not only was it the principal article of foreign commerce and source of immense wealth in the form of paper, but it was also of the most extraordinary utility to the poorer classes. Household utensils of every description were fabricated from its roots; boats were constructed of its stem; roofing, sail-cloth, ropes, and clothes were made of its bark; and from the appellation of "eaters of papyrus," often applied to the Egyptians by the Greeks, some have thought that it was a common article of food. How extraordinary does it then seem that a plant of such inestimable value should ever have disappeared from a land which derived such benefits from it. Nevertheless, it is a singular fact that the papyrus is no longer to be found in Egypt; recent travellers assure us that not a stalk is to be seen at the present day in the Delta. Sicily alone now possesses the beautiful reed.

We are ignorant of the exact period of the introduction of the papyrus paper into Greece and Italy, but Pliny has left us copious details concerning the manipulations it underwent among the Romans. Sizing was then, as it is now, one of the most important operations in paper-making. The membranous covering of the stem of the papyrus reed was far from being of a firm, compact texture, and the Alexandrian factories probably sent it forth very imperfectly prepared. The best quality of paper was made by gluing together, with starch and vinegar, two sheets of papyrus, one transversely to the other, and then sizing them. These sheets were sometimes of considerable dimensions; documents have been discovered written on paper three yards in length.

Those true lovers of literature, art, and science, the Athenians, raised a statue to Philtatius--to him who first taught them the secret of sizing paper!

It is a curious fact that, about thirty years since, the vegetable size used by the ancient Egyptians was introduced, with some slight improvement, as a new discovery, into the paper manufactories of France, and has now almost entirely abolished the use of animal size in that country for all purposes connected with the fabrication of paper.

About the fourth century, the Arabs made Europe acquainted with cotton paper, just then invented in Damascus, thereby causing a great diminution in the papyrus trade. A long struggle ensued between the rival productions, which was only put an end to at the commencement of the twelfth century, by the invention of paper manufactured from flaxen and hempen refuse. The papyrus disappeared at once and completely; soon forgotten by commerce, but immortal in the remembrance of poets and sages--immortal as the pages of Cicero and Virgil, whose sweet and eloquent thoughts were first traced on Egypt's reed.

Until the present time, this flaxen and hempen rag paper has been produced in sufficient quantities for the necessities of our civilization, but as civilization increases, and as education becomes more general, especially among the masses of Europe, it is evident that the supply of rags will be inadequate to the demand, and wood will most probably again be brought into requisition, as in the age of Pericles.

Not, however, in the form of the ancient tablets, but transformed by mechanical and chemical science into sheets of white and pliant paper; or the numerous fibrous plants of Algeria, Cuba, and other tropical countries will be turned to account, and no longer permitted to waste their usefulness on the desert air. Even now, in France, among the Vosges Mountains, there is a paper manufactory where wood is manipulated with the most complete success. And some few years since, a newspaper paragraph informed the civilized world that a process of making paper from marble had been discovered by a canny Scotchman of Glasgow! It is not, indeed, impossible that the marble painfully hewn and engraven by our forefathers to perpetuate the memory of a bloody struggle or of some vain triumph, may in time to come, by the magic power of modern science, become a sheet of snowy tissue, whereon the fair, slight hand of beauty shall trace the dainty nothings of fashionable life!

The tablets so continually mentioned by ancient writers must be noted. They were made of parchment, thin boards, ivory, or metal, prepared to receive ink, or coated with wax and written on with a stylus, or sharp-pointed pencil. In the Fourth Book of Kings we read: "I will efface Jerusalem as tables are wont to be effaced, and I will erase and turn it, and draw the pencil over the face thereof." Herodotus and Demosthenes speak of their tablets. In Rome, they were used not only as note-books and journals, but also for correspondence in the city and its environs, while the papyrus served for letters intended to be sent to a distance. The receiver of one of these notes not unfrequently returned his answer on the same tablet. Made of African cypress and highly ornamented and inlaid, they were given as presents, precisely as portfolios, souvenirs, and note-books are nowadays. On the wax-covered tablets was generally traced the first rough copy of any document, to be afterward neatly written out either on papyrus or parchment. These wax-covered tablets were used in France until the beginning of the last century.

Two-leaved tablets were called diptychs, and were sometimes of extraordinary cost and beauty. The Roman consuls and high magistrates were accustomed, on their first appointment to office, to present their friends with ivory diptychs, exquisitely engraved and carved, and ornamented with gold.

Ancient ink was composed of lamp-black and gum-water. Pliny says that the addition of a little vinegar rendered it ineffaceable, and that a little wormwood infused in it preserved the manuscript from mice. This ink was used until the twelfth century, when our present common ink was invented.

Not only black, but also red, blue, green, and yellow inks were employed in antiquity. Sepia ink and Indian ink are mentioned by Pliny. Red ink, made from a murex, was especially esteemed, and reserved for the emperor's exclusive use, under pain of death to all infringers of the privilege. Gold and silver inks, principally used from the eighth to the tenth centuries, were also prized; writers in gold, termed chrysographers, formed a class apart among writers in general. The Imperial Library of Paris possesses several Greek Gospels, and the _Livre des Heures_ of Charles the Bold, entirely written in gold. Few manuscripts are extant written in silver; the most celebrated are the Gospels, preserved in the Upsal Library.

The stylus, a dangerous weapon when made in iron, and proscribed by Roman law, which required it to be of bone; the painting brush, used still by the Chinese; the reed, which was cut and shaped like our modern pen, and with which some oriental nations write even now; and the feather pen, which is mentioned by an anonymous writer of the fifth century, were the general writing implements of antiquity and the middle ages. Metallic pens are also supposed to have been known; the Patriarchs of Constantinople were accustomed to sign their official acts with a silver reed, probably of the form of a pen.

Some paintings found in Herculaneum give evidence that the ancients were accustomed to make use of most, if not of all the various conveniences with which modern writers surround themselves. The writing-desk, the inkstand, the penknife, the eraser, the hone, and the powder-box were well-known. They do not seem, however, to have had the habit of sitting up to a table to write, but rested their tablet or paper on their knee, or on their left hand, as the orientals do at the present day.

DOÑA FORTUNA AND DON DINERO.[16]

FROM THE SPANISH OF FERNAN CABALLERO.

Well, sirs, Doña Fortuna and Don Dinero were so in love that you never saw one without the other. The bucket follows the rope, and Don Dinero followed Doña Fortuna till folks began to talk scandal. Then they made up their minds to get married.

Don Dinero was a big swollen fellow, with a head of Peruvian gold, a belly of Mexican silver, legs of the copper of Segovia, and shoes of paper from the great factory of Madrid.[17]

Doña Fortuna was a mad-cap, without faith or law, very slippery, uncertain, and queer, and blinder than a mole.

The pair were at cross purposes before they had finished the wedding-cake. The woman wanted to take the command, but this did not suit Don Dinero, who was of an overbearing and haughty disposition. Why, sirs! my father (may glory be his rest!) used to say that if the sea were to get married he would lose his fierceness. But Don Dinero was more proud than the sea and did not lose his presumption.

As both wished to be first and best, and neither would consent to be last or least, they determined to decide by a trial which of the two had the more power.

"Look," said the wife to the husband, "do you see, down there in the hollow of that olive-tree, that poor man so discouraged and chop-fallen? Let's try whether you or I can do more for him."

The husband agreed, and they went right away, he croaking, and she with a jump, and took up their quarters by the tree.

The man, who was a wretch that had never in his whole life seen either of them, opened eyes like a pair of great olives when the two appeared suddenly in front of him.

"God be with you!" said Don Dinero.

"And with his grace's worship also," replied the poor man.

"Don't you know me?"

"I only know his highness to serve him."

"You have never seen my face?"

"Never since God made me."

"How is that--have you nothing?"

"Yes, sir; I have six children as naked as colts, with throats like old stocking-legs; but, as to property, I have only _grab and swallow_, and often not that."

"Why don't you work?"

"Why? Because I can't find work, and I'm so unlucky that everything I undertake turns out as crooked as a goat's horn. Since I married, it appears as though a frost had fallen on me. I'm the fag of ill-hap. Now, here--a master set us to dig him a well for a price, promising doubloons when it should be finished, but giving not a single _maravedi_[18] beforehand."

"The master was wise," remarked Don Dinero. "'Money taken, arms broken,' is a good saying. Go on, my man."

"I put my soul in the work; for, notwithstanding your worship sees me looking so forlorn, I am a man, sir."

"Yes," said Don Dinero, "I had perceived that."

"But there are four kinds of men, señor. There are men that are men; there are good-for-naughts; and contemptible monkeys; and men that are below monkeys, and not worth the water they drink. But, as I was telling you, the deeper we dug, the lower down we went, but the fewer signs we found of water. It appeared as if the centre of the world had been dried. Lastly, and finally, we found nothing, señor, but a cobbler."

"In the bowels of the earth!" exclaimed Don Dinero, indignant at hearing that his ancestral palace was so meanly inhabited.

"No, señor!" said the man deprecatingly; "not in the bowels; further on, in the country of the other tribe."

"What tribe, man?"

"The antipodes, señor."

"My friend, I am going to do you a favor," said Don Dinero pompously; and he put a dollar in the man's hand.

The man hardly credited his eyes; joy lent wings to his feet, he was not long in arriving at a baker's shop and buying bread, but, when he went to take out his money, he found nothing in his pocket but the hole through which his dollar had gone without saying good-by.

The poor fellow was in despair; he looked for it, but when did one of his sort ever find anything? No; St. Anthony guards the pig that is destined for the wolf. After the money he lost time, and after time patience, and, that lost, he fell to casting after his bad luck every curse that ever opened lips.

Doña Fortuna strained herself with laughing. Don Dinero's face turned yellower with bile, but he had no remedy except to put his hand in his pocket and bring out an _onza_[19] to give the man.

The poor fellow was so full of joy that it leaped out of his eyes. He did not go for bread this time, but hurried to a dry-goods store to buy a few clothes for his wife and children. When he handed the _onza_ to pay for what he had bought, the dealer said, and stuck to it, that the piece was bad; that no doubt its owner was a coiner of false money, and that he was going to give him up to justice. On hearing this, the poor man was confounded, and his face became so hot that you might have toasted beans on it; but he took to his heels and ran to tell Don Dinero what had happened, weeping the while with shame and disappointment.

Doña Fortuna nearly burst herself with laughing, and Don Dinero felt the mustard rising in his nose.[20] "Here," said he to the poor man, "take these two thousand reals; your luck is truly bad; but if I don't mend it, my power is less than I think."

The man set off so delighted that he saw nothing until he flattened his nose against some robbers. They left him as his mother brought him into the world.

When his wife chucked him under the chin and said it was her turn, and it would soon be seen which had the more power, the petticoats or the breeches, Don Dinero looked more shame-faced than a clown.

She then went to the poor man, who had thrown himself on the ground and was tearing his hair, and blew on him. At the instant the lost dollar lay under his hand. "Something is something," he said to himself; "I'll buy bread for my children, for they have gone three days on half a ration, and their stomachs must be as empty as a charity-box."

As he passed before the shop where he had bought the clothes, the dealer called him in, and begged of him to overlook his previous rudeness; said that he had really believed the _onza_ to be a bad one, but that the assayer, who happened to stop as he passed that way, had assured him that it was one of the very best, rather over than under weight, in fact. He asked leave to return the piece, and the clothes besides, which he begged him to accept as an expression of sorrow for the annoyance he had caused him.

The poor man declared himself satisfied, loaded his arms with the things; and, if you will believe me, as he was crossing the plaza, some soldiers of the civil guard were bringing in the highwaymen that had robbed him. Immediately, the judge, who was one of the judges God sends, made them restore the two thousand reals without costs or waste. The poor man, in partnership with a neighbor of his, put his money in a mine. Before they had dug down six feet they struck a vein of gold, another of lead, and another of iron. Right away people began to call him Don, then "You Sir," then Your Excellency. Since that time Doña Fortuna has had her husband humbled and shut up in her shoe, and she, more addle-pated and indiscriminating than ever, goes on distributing her favors without rhyme or reason, without judgment or discretion--madly, foolishly, generously, hit or miss, like the blows of the blind stick; and one of them will reach the writer, if the reader is pleased with the tale.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Madame Fortune and Sir Money.

[17] The Bank of Madrid.

[18] Less than a farthing.

[19] A gold piece valued at sixteen dollars.

[20] Was becoming angry.

ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.

My brothers, ye are sad, and my sisters, ye are poor, But once was holy poverty the cloak that angels wore; My fathers, ye are lame, and my children, pale ye be, But in every face, by his dear grace, that blessed Lord I see Who brother is and father is, and all things, unto me.

In the sigh of sick men's prayers, in the woeful leper's eye, In the pangs of wicked men, in the groans of them that die, Thy voice I hear, thine eye I see, thy thought doth hedge me in. Oh! may thy sinner bear thy stripes for them that toil in sin, And with thy ransomed suffering ones find me my choicest kin.

For, whether down to pious rest on these bare stones I lie, Or if at last upon thy cross triumphantly I die, The joy of thee, the praise of thee, is more than all reward; For holy misery doth most with heavenly bliss accord: All ways are sweet, all wounds are dear, to them that seek the Lord.

I made a harp to praise the Lord with ever-glorious strain; I tuned a harp to praise my God, and all its strings were pain: Its song was like to fire, but sweet its keenest agony, And thus in every tune and tear its burden seemed to be, "So great is the joy that I expect, all pain is joy to me."

Through all the weary world do I an exiled orphan roam, Yet for thy sake were desert cave a palace and a home; And birds, and flowers, and stars are lights to read thy Scripture by, And earth is but a comment rude unto thy wondrous sky, The which to reach, my soul must teach earth's body how to die.

With thy wayfaring ones my crust I've broken by the brooks, When flowers were as our children fair, our comrades were the oaks, And wildest forests for thy praise were churches, choirs, and clarks-- Such house and kindred doth he find who to thy wisdom harks. Praise ye the Lord, ye spirits small--my sisters sweet, the larks!

The untented air is home for me who in thy promise sleep, Or wake to find thee ever nigh, and still my sins to weep; And holy poverty's disguise is pleasant to thine eye; Yea, richer garb was never worn, that treasures may not buy, Since thou hast clad me with thy love, and clothed me with the sky.

Oh! could I for one moment's light thy heavenly body see, All joy were pain, all pain were joy, all toil were bliss to me. I would give mine eyes for weeping, and my blood should flow like wine, To purchase in that sight of bliss one blessed look of thine, Who hath ransomed with a crown of pain this sinful soul of mine!

My brethren, ye are poor, but as children ye are wise, Who wander through the wilderness in quest of paradise. O little children! seek the Lord, wherever he may be, Whose blessed face by his dear grace on every side I see, Who brother is, who father is, and all things, unto ye.

LETTER FROM ROME.

ROME, Jan. 21, 1871.

Four months have gone by since the Italian troops entered Rome through the breach made by the cannon of Cadorna, four months since a new light dawned upon the Eternal City, and its regenerators set about the accomplishment of their aspirations. What has been the development of this third life of Rome--_la terza vita_, as Terenzio Mamiani has been pleased to style it--in this its primal stage? The child is father to the man--the seed produces the tree and its fruit. So, too, do the beginnings of a political state give an index of its future, fix the causes that are to produce the results of the future. The history of these four months, then, must be looked on with interest, and pondered with care.

The present century is universally considered an age of progress, and it was in the name of progress that the forces of Victor Emmanuel entered the capital of Christianity. Progress implies motion from one state or condition to another more perfect: the simplicity of this statement cannot be gainsaid, and we shall assume it as uncontested. The party of progress took possession of Rome in the interest of progress. Has Rome progressed during these months since the 20th of September? Has she gone from her past state to one more perfect? Facts must speak; and facts we give. One thing at a time.

Abundance and cheapness of food are the first essentials in the well-being of a state, and necessarily connected with this is the facility of obtaining it. We cannot say that food is scarce in Rome; but the absolute and the relative cheapness have undergone a decided change, to the disadvantage of the poorer as well as the wealthier classes, since the 20th of September. The _mocinato_, or so-called grist-tax, extending even to the grinding of dried vegetables, chestnuts, and acorns, has sent up the price of bread. Salt has risen at least a cent per pound. The further application of the system of heavy taxation is not likely to make other articles of prime necessity cheaper. And while this state of things exists, the facility of obtaining food has become much less for the poorer classes. The causes of this are to be sought in the want of employers. It is the universal complaint that there is no work. Before the coming of the present rulers, the army of the Pope, composed in great part of young men of some means, spent a great deal among the people. This source of gain ceased with the disbandment of the Papal troops, for it is notorious _lippis et tonsoribus_, that the men of the present contingent have barely enough daily allowance to keep body and soul together. Besides this, ecclesiastics spent their revenues, fixed by law and sure, with a liberal hand. Now, when they find difficulty in getting even what they cannot be deprived of; now that confiscation hangs over their heads with menacing aspect; now that religious orders are called on to make immense outlays to send their young men to places of safety--in one case to the extent of six thousand dollars--it would be foolish to expect them to sacrifice what is necessary for themselves; though, to do them justice, they are always willing to share their little with the poor. Dearth of foreign ecclesiastics, and of foreigners in general, is another source of distress, and this is directly a consequence of the invasion. The result of all this is that there is more misery in the city of Rome than has been seen for many a day--beggars are more numerous in the streets, and needy families, ashamed to beg, suffer in silence or pour their tale of woe into the ear of the clergy, who always are honored with the confidence of the poor and afflicted. Surely this state of things is not an improvement on the plenty which characterized the rule of the pontiffs. We cannot say Rome in this respect has moved into a better sphere--that she has progressed.

Security of person and property is another essential object of the attention of every state. No state that cannot guarantee this is deserving of the name of having a good government. Under the Papal rule, it is well known that not only in Rome did good order prevail, as the immense multitude present at the Œcumenical Council can attest, but that also on the frontiers of the territories governed by the Pope, after the withdrawal of the French troops from Veroli and Anagni, the energy displayed by the Roman delegate was such as to liberate completely the provinces from the bands sprung from the civil strifes of southern Italy. The city of Rome itself was a model of good order and of personal safety. Now things are changed. Only a few days ago, a "guardia di pubblica sicurezza" was stopped in the streets and robbed of his watch and _revolver_. There is not a day that has not in the daily papers its record of thefts and acts of personal violence. Only a few days ago, there was a sacrilegious robbery in the Church of St. Andrea della Valle. On the 8th of December there was rioting with bloodshed in Rome. A band of young students under the charge of a religious were stoned on Sunday, January 15. On the 16th, the Very Rev. Rector of the "Ospizio degli Orfanelli" was struck with a stone. It would be easy to multiply examples, but those we have given are quite enough to show that progress in security of person and property has not been attained since the 20th of September, 1870.

Then public morality in the centre of Christianity could not fail to be at a far higher standard, now that the regeneration of the city of Rome has been accomplished. What bitter illusions fortune delights in dispensing to those that trust her! Before the entrance of Italian statesmen into Rome, vice and immorality did not dare raise their heads--they could not flaunt themselves on the public ways. Now there is a change, and the moral order of Italy has entered through the breach at the Porta Pia. We say no more, the subject is a delicate one, and we therefore refrain from penning facts notorious in Rome. Surely, none who has received even an elementary training in virtue will deem this state of things progress--an elevation to a higher and more perfect state.

But the King of Italy came to Rome to protect the independence of the Sovereign Pontiff, to save him from the bondage of foreign hordes. Now, as the Pope is principally a spiritual sovereign, it is his spiritual power that most needs protection; consequently, the King of Italy and his faithful servants have been most zealous in preventing acts or publications that would tend to diminish the respect due to the Holy Father.

Incomprehensible, but true--the very opposite has taken place! We have at hand the satirical paper, the _Don Pirlone Figlio_, of January 19. On its first page is a ridiculous adaptation of the heading used by the cardinal vicar in his official notifications to the faithful. The same page has an article grossly disrespectful to the Sovereign Pontiff, and insulting to the Belgian deputation, who have just come on to present the protest of their countrymen, and their contributions. The Holy Father is styled Giovanni Mastai detto Colui ex-disponibile anche lui; the members of the deputation are given ridiculous names; and the contributors of Peter Pence are blackbirds caught in a cage; finally, a ridiculous discourse is put in the mouth of the Pope, concluding with a benediction. The illustration represents Pius IX. with a boot in his hand, in the act of giving it to the Emperor of Germany, who figures as a cobbler. Such are the illustrations and articles one sees exposed to the public day by day. When we who have seen Rome under far different circumstances witness these things, is it at all strange that we refuse to see "the general respect shown to ecclesiastics in the exercise of their sacred functions," even though on the faith of a Lamarmora it be asserted to exist? Can we be blamed for thinking that anything but progress in veneration of religion has been the result of the taking of Rome?

After this, any of the advantages arising from the occupation of Rome can have no weight sufficient to warrant much attention--for they must be, as they are, material and of a low order--chiefly regarding facility of communication and despatch in business matters, things desirable in themselves, but, it would seem, purchased at a fearful sacrifice.

Is this state of things to continue? Is the Italian kingdom on such a permanent basis that the Papacy has no hope of a change that may give it back its possessions? Or can the kingdom of Italy be brought to make restitution of what it has seized, without itself undergoing destruction? A word in reply to each of these queries. And first, is this state of things to continue?

When we consider who the Sovereign Pontiff is, and consult the opinions of men famed for their foresight and statesmanship, it is difficult to deny that the restoration of the Pontiff to his rights is very possible. Napoleon Bonaparte, although he afterwards made Pius VII. his prisoner, left recorded his opinion that it was impossible that the Pope should be the subject of any one sovereign, and that it was providential the head of the church had been given the possession of a small state to secure his independence. M. Thiers, in commendation of whom we need say nothing, as his reputation is world-wide, has clearly and forcibly proclaimed this very opinion. In the debates on the temporal power in the French Senate, in 1867, his voice was heard calling on France to protect Rome, and it was his energy forced from the hypocritical government of his country the famous word, uttered by Rouher, that struck terror into Italy--"_Jamais_." One would imagine that now Rome has fallen, and France is reduced to the verge of desperation, no man of "liberal" political views would be foolhardy enough to risk his reputation by reiterating an opinion like this. Yet, strange to say, there is one who has been willing to run the risk, and that in the very Chamber of Deputies at Florence. Only a few weeks ago, the Deputy Toscanelli, a liberal, and, we learn, a free-thinker, with a courage, a strength of argument, and flow of wit that gained the respect and attention of the house, almost in the words of M. Thiers gave the same opinion. In the days of the last of the Medici, said the distinguished deputy, there was a court-jester riding a spirited horse down the Via Calzaioli, in Florence. The horse got the better of his rider, and started off at full speed. "Ho! Sor Fagioli," cried out one of the crowd, "where are you going to fall?" "No one knows or can know," was the jester's answer, as he held on with both hands. Just so is it with the government; it has mounted a policy that is running away with it, and neither it nor any one else knows where it is going to fall. The government has gone to Rome, and in Rome it cannot stay; it cannot hold its own face to face with the Pope. "I give you, then, this advice: leave Rome, declare it a free city under the protection of the kingdom of Italy." So much for the opinions of political men of eminence; we will examine the question for a moment on its intrinsic merits.

We know the Sovereign Pontiff in his official capacity of teacher of the whole church is infallible in declarations regarding faith or morals. But in other matters of policy, of fact, he has no guarantee against error beyond what is afforded him by the use of the means which he has at hand, the information of his advisers, and especially of the Sacred College of Cardinals. Suppose for a moment this means of information is done away with, or made a vehicle of untrue statements. Suppose unworthy men are artfully intruded on the Pope, and act in accordance with instructions received from the rulers of Italy. Imagine Italy at war or on bad terms with the United States or England. A crafty statesman sees an opportunity of putting in a position to aid him in one or the other country an able man, through the influence of some high ecclesiastic, whose good opinion will have great weight with men of standing or with the people. The whole matter is artfully carried out. There is an understanding between the Italian statesman and his American or English friend; both act cautiously and avoid alarming susceptibilities. The affair works well. Persons around the Pope are made to drop a word incidentally in praise of the virtue and ability of the one whom it is intended to raise to power. The Pope in his relations with the bishops of foreign countries, speaking of the prospects of the church in good faith, speaks also to the ecclesiastic of whom we have made mention, and in favorable terms, of the person in question. Who that knows human nature can fail to see the thorough nature of the influence thus used? The crafty originators are the ones to blame, and the harm done is effected in perfect good faith by the unconscious instruments of their design. To show we are not building on our fancy, we turn to the pages of a man whose name all revere--Cardinal Wiseman. In his _Recollections of the Last Four Popes_, he speaks of the character of Pius VII.:

"When no longer a monarch, but a captive--when bereft of all advice and sympathy, but pressed on close by those who, themselves probably deceived, thoroughly deceived him, he committed the one error of his life and pontificate, in 1813. For there came to him men 'of the seed of Aaron,' who could not be expected to mislead him, themselves free and moving in the busiest of the world, who showed him, through the loopholes of his prison, that world from which he was shut out, as though agitated on its surface, and to its lowest depths, through his unbendingness; the church torn to schism, and religion weakened to destruction, from what they termed his obstinacy. He who had but prayed and bent his neck to suffering was made to appear in his own eyes a harsh and cruel master, who would rather see all perish than loose his grasp on unrelenting but impotent jurisdiction.

"He yielded for a moment of conscientious alarm; he consented, though conditionally, under false but virtuous impressions, to the terms proposed to him for a new concordat. But no sooner had his upright mind discovered the error, than it nobly and successfully repaired it." (Chap. IV.)

Such are the words of a man writing after years of intercourse with the first men of Europe. They are instructive words--for human nature is ever the same. There are men still in Italy who follow out closely the principles of Macchiavelli--to whom everything sacred or profane, no matter what veneration may have surrounded it, is but the means to self-aggrandizement and the satisfaction of ambition. It is for the nations of the world to say whether they are willing to allow the existence of the permanent danger to themselves, arising from the subjection of the spiritual head of the church to any crowned head or even republic whatsoever. Perhaps, of the two, the latter would be the more to be dreaded. The Roman mobs that drove Eugenius IV. from Rome, and pelted him as he went down the Tiber, or made many another Pope seek safety in flight, could be easily gotten together again, as the present residents of the Eternal City know only too well.

We answer, then, our first query, and say that this state of things cannot last. Time, the great remedy of human ills, will solve this question, and establish the See of Peter on a perfectly independent basis--independent of all sovereign control, even if this be not done shortly through the armed interference of European powers.

It is hardly necessary to inquire whether the Italian kingdom is so firmly constituted that no hope of restoration of the Pope is to be seen. For ourselves, we think there are indications that point to a speedy dissolution of this state on the first breaking out of a war between Italy and any great power. Her policy is to avoid entangling alliances, and this she is following out, striving to propitiate the Emperor of Germany for her leaning towards France. The first army that will enter the peninsula to aid the Pope will shiver Italy to fragments. The southern provinces have too lively a recollection of the days of plenty under their kings, and too painful an impression of heavy taxation and proconsular domination of the Piedmontese race, to hesitate between submission to them and the regaining their own autonomy, which will make Naples again one of the queenly capitals of the world.

One index of the general discontent or indifference is the small number of those who vote at the elections in proportion to those who are inscribed on the electoral lists. The motto proposed by the _Unità Cattolica_, the foremost Catholic journal of Italy--"_Neither elected nor electors_"--has been adopted and acted upon by very many throughout the country. We feel no difficulty in saying that the majority of the Italians are not with the House of Savoy, nor are they in favor of United Italy. The ruling power has the government and the command of the army, a fact that quite accounts for the existing state of things.

Our third question, whether the kingdom of Italy can be brought to make restitution of the territories it has seized, without itself undergoing destruction, remains to be answered. We believe it cannot, unless half-measures--always more or less dangerous--be adopted. The late spoliation is not more criminal than the first, and no amount of _plébiscite_ can make it legitimate, no more than--to use the words of the able editor of the _Unità Cattolica_--the popular approbation of the condemnation of Jesus Christ legitimized the crucifixion. The claim, then, to restitution extends to the whole of the former provinces, justly held by the Popes to supply them with the revenue needed to make them independent of the precarious contributions of the Peter Pence, and which was none too large for that purpose.

Whatever may come, we know the future of the church is in the hands of One in whose holding are the hearts of princes and peoples. What we have to do is to pray earnestly for our spiritual head, aid him by our means, console him with our sympathy, and give him whatever support, moral or other, it be in our power to offer. And while we do so, it is a joy to us to know we have lessened the grief of his hardships by what we have done hitherto, even gladdened the hours of his captivity. A few days ago, speaking to the Belgian deputation, Pius IX. said: "Belgium gives me very often proofs of her fidelity. Continue in the way in which you are walking; do not allow your courage to fail. What is happening to-day is only a trial, and the church came into existence in the midst of trials, lived always amid them, and amid them she will end her earthly career. It is our duty to battle and stand firm in the face of danger.... We have an Italian proverb which says: It is one thing to talk of dying; quite another to die. People speak very resignedly of persecutions, but sometimes it is hard to bear them. The world offers to-day a very sad spectacle, and particularly this our city of Rome, in which we see things to which our eyes have not been accustomed. Let us all pray together that God may soon deliver his church, and re-establish public order, so deeply shaken. Your efforts, your prayers, your pious pilgrimages, all tend to this end, and I therefore bless them with all my heart." May the words of the Holy Father find an echo in our hearts; let us not lose courage, but keep up our efforts, so happily begun, and never rest till wrong be righted, until we see the most sublime dignity and power on earth freed from the surroundings that would seek to make it as little as themselves.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

MECHANISM IN THOUGHT AND MORALS. An Address delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard University, June 29, 1870. With Notes and Afterthoughts. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 1871.

Dr. Holmes is a Benvenuto Cellini in literature, and everything he produces is of precious metal, skilfully enchased, and adorned with gems of art. The present address is no exception to the general rule, but rather an unusually good illustration of it. It is a remarkably curious piece of work, containing many interesting facts and speculations derived from the author's scientific studies on the mechanism of the brain. There is nothing in it positively affirmed which is necessarily materialistic, as far as we can see; rather, we should say that its doctrine stands on one side of both materialism and spiritualism, and can be reconciled with either. It can be explained, if we have understood it correctly, in conformity with the Aristotelian and scholastic philosophy, in such a way as not to prejudice the truth of the distinct and spiritual nature of the soul. The author, indeed, appears more inclined to that belief than the opposite, although we are sorry to find him expressing himself in so hesitating and dubious a manner. When he passes from thought to morals, he gets out of his element, and displays a flippancy and levity which may pass very well in humorous poetry, but are out of place in treating of graver topics. His remarks on some points of Catholic doctrine are so completely at fault as to show his entire incompetency to meddle with the subject at all. His language in regard to the Council of the Vatican and Pius IX. is more like that of a pert and vulgar student of Calvinistic divinity than that of an elegant and refined Cambridge professor. "But political freedom inevitably generates a new type of religious character, as _the conclave that contemplates endowing a dotard with infallibility_ has found out, we trust, before this time" (p. 95). Dr. Holmes has apparently profited by his close observations among that class of the female population of Boston who are wont to thrust their bodies half out of their windows, and "exhaust the vocabulary, to each other's detriment." We congratulate him, and the learned Society of Phi Beta Kappa, on the choice sentence we have quoted above. We trust those Catholics who are disposed to think that we can make use of Harvard University as a place of education for our youth, will take note of this sample of the language they may expect to hear in that and similar institutions, and open their eyes to the necessity of providing some better instruction for their sons than can be had at such sources. Notwithstanding our high appreciation of Dr. Holmes's genius, and the great pleasure we have derived from his works, we regret to say that we must consider his influence on young people grievously detrimental. In virtue of a reaction from Calvinism, he has swung into an extreme of rationalism the effect of which is checked in his own person by the influence of an unusually good heart and an early religious education, but in itself is sure to overthrow all reverence, faith, and moral principle. The whole effect of this address on the minds of young men tends to a most pernicious result, and encourages them, with a kind of thoughtless gaiety, to rush forward in a career of mental and moral lawlessness.

JESUS AND JERUSALEM; OR, THE WAY HOME. Books for Spiritual Reading. First Series. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1871.

Here we have a plain, practical, but very attractively and charmingly written book of spiritual reading for everybody. It emanates from the Convent of Poor Clares, Kenmare, County Kerry, Ireland, who are anything but poor in intellectual gifts and religious zeal. We suppose it is from the pen of the gifted authoress of the _History of Ireland_ and several other works of the highest literary merit. The idea of the volume is apparently taken from the "Parable of a Pilgrim" in F. Baker's _Sancta Sophia_, of which it is a minute paraphrase and commentary. Its minuteness, diffuseness, and fluency of style are, in our opinion, great merits, considering the end and object of the book. It is easy reading, explains and enlarges on each topic at length and in detail with great tact and discretion, and is eminently fitted to help a person in the acquisition and practice of the homely, everyday Christian virtues. Its bread is of fine quality, broken up fine. It is eminently adapted for the young and simple, timid beginners, and persons living an everyday busy life, and also for the sick, the suffering, and the afflicted. At the same time, a professor of theology, or even a bishop, may read it with great profit and satisfaction. We recommend this book with more than usual earnestness, and we trust the good Sisters of Kenmare will keep on with their series, which must certainly produce an extraordinary amount of good.

ELIA; OR, SPAIN FIFTY YEARS AGO. Translated from the Spanish of Fernan Caballero. New York: Catholic Publication Society.

Fernan Caballero is the _nom de plume_ of Madame de Baer, who is now an aged lady, though still in the full possession of her intellectual powers. We admire the old Spanish character, customs, faith, and chivalry. Mme. de Baer is their champion, and the enemy of the revolution which has desolated that grand old Catholic country. This is one of her stories written to that point, and we trust it will find even here many a reader who will sympathize with the author, and help to neutralize the poison, too widely spread, of modern liberalism--the deadly epidemic of Spain and all Europe. It is a very suitable book for school premiums, and ought to be in every library. Other persons, also, will find it a lively and entertaining book, with a strong dash of the peculiar quaintness usually found in Spanish stories.

ROMAN IMPERIALISM, AND OTHER LECTURES AND ESSAYS. By J. R. Seelye, M.D., Professor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge. (Author of "Ecce Homo.") Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1871.

These essays are cleverly and agreeably written. Their topics are very miscellaneous, but all of them important and interesting. Those on "Liberal Education in Universities," "English in Schools," "The Church as a Teacher of Morality," and the "Teaching of Politics," are especially worthy of attention. Some of the writers of the "Broad Church," to which Prof. Seelye belongs, are quite remarkable for their honorable candor, largeness of mind, originality of thought, and, in certain respects, approximation to Catholic views. We like to read them better than most other Protestant writers, and often find their writings instructive. We have seldom seen a book written by a Protestant in which a Catholic can find so many things to approve of and be pleased with, and so few in which he is obliged to differ from the author, as the present volume.

LIFE AND SELECT WRITINGS OF THE VEN. LOUIS MARIE GRIGNON DE MONTFORT. Translated from the French by a Secular Priest. London: Richardson. 1870.

The Ven. Grignon de Montfort was a priest of noble birth, who lived and labored in France as a missionary, and became the founder of two religious congregations, during the eighteenth century. He was a person of great individuality of character and many peculiar gifts and traits, which made his life quite a salient one, if we may be allowed the expression. His talents for poetry, music, and the arts of design, and a marked poetic fervor in his temperament, gave a certain zest and raciness to his career as a missionary, and were a great help to his success. His character was chivalrous and daring, and his sanctity shows a kind of exaltation, a sort of gay mockery of danger, contempt, privation, and suffering, which it almost takes one's breath away to contemplate. His life was very short, but his labors, persecutions, and services were very great. He is best known in modern times by his extraordinary devotion to the Blessed Virgin. It is altogether probable that ere long the process of his canonization will be completed, and a decree of the Vicar of Christ enroll his name among the saints. Those who are capable of profiting by an example, and by writings of such sublime spirituality, will find something in this book seldom to be met with even in the Lives of Saints.

A TEXT-BOOK OF ELEMENTARY CHEMISTRY, THEORETICAL AND INORGANIC. By George F. Barker, M.D., Professor of Physiological Chemistry in Yale College, New Haven, Conn. Charles C. Chatfield & Co. 1870.

Chemical science, as Prof. Barker remarks in his preface, has indeed undergone a remarkable revolution in the last few years; and the text-books which were excellent not long ago are now almost useless, as far as the theoretical part of the subject is concerned. And though, in all probability, more brilliant discoveries as to the internal constitution of matter, the formation of molecules, and the nature of the chemical adhesion of atoms are in store than any yet made, still the conclusions recently attained on these points maybe considered as well established, and can by no means be considered as crude speculations, to be overthrown to-morrow by others of no greater weight. Chemistry seems, at present, to promise better than ever before to solve the problem of the arrangement of the ultimate material elements, though, perhaps, the laws of the forces which connect them, and the nature of the molecular movements, will be rather obtained from other sources.

Prof. Barker's book is an admirable exponent of the science in its present state. The first quarter of it is devoted to an explanation of the principles of theoretical chemistry, and it is this, of course, which is specially interesting and important at present, though the remainder will be found much easier reading. The work is one, however, which is meant to be studied, rather than merely read, containing a great deal of information, and giving much material for mental exercise throughout. It would not have been easy to put more valuable matter in its few pages, and its merits as a text-book are very great. The type is very clear, and the illustrations numerous and excellent.

VARIETIES OF IRISH HISTORY. By James J. Gaskin. Dublin: W. B. Kelly. New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 9 Warren Street. 1871.

If Mr. Gaskin had not stated in his preface that "the present work is, in great part, based on a lecture delivered by the author before a highly influential, intelligent, and fashionable audience," we would have anticipated, from the title of his book, something not only interesting but instructive relating to Irish history. But knowing very well what pleases a highly fashionable audience in the dwarfed and provincialized capital of Ireland, this announcement was enough to satisfy us that his conception of what makes history was neither very lucid nor comprehensive. It is unnecessary to say that, within the shadow of Dublin Castle, any rash man who would be unthinking enough to write or speak seriously about the history of Ireland--that protracted tragedy upon which the curtain has not yet fallen--would soon be voted a bore, or something worse, by the fashionable people who are privileged once or twice a year to kiss the hand of the representative of royalty. But the author is evidently too well bred to commit such a solecism, and accordingly, under a very attractive exterior, he treats us to all sorts of gossip, from the doings of _Gra na' Uile_, a sort of western Viqueen, to the murder of Captain Glas, a Scotch privateersman. The intervals between these two great historical events is filled up with the mock regal ceremonies that used to be observed annually on the island of Dalkey; reminiscences of Swift, Dr. Delaney, Curran, and other distinguished men of the last century, which, though not new, are pleasant to read; and some correct and elaborate descriptions of scenery in the suburbs of Dublin, which will not be without interest to those who have visited that part of Ireland. The _Varieties_ is not a book which will find much favor with historical students, but for railroad and steamboat travellers, who wish to read as they run, and as a book for the drawing-room, being light in style and handsomely illustrated, it will be found entertaining and agreeable.

A HAND-BOOK OF LEGENDARY AND MYTHOLOGICAL ART. By Clara Erskine Clement. With Descriptive Illustrations. New York: Hurd & Houghton.

The best thing we can say about this book is that it affords another striking proof that the Catholic Church is the genius of all true poetry and art. One-half of the volume is devoted to sketches of the lives of Catholic saints, the other half being equally divided between legends of German localities and the gods and goddesses of Greece and Rome. We look in vain for some notice of works of art or poetic legend to which Protestantism, with its heroes, or modern Rationalism, with no heroes, has given inspiration. The authoress, however, is not a Catholic, for she calls us "Romanists," a vulgar term, the use of which, she ought to know, we consider as impertinent and insulting.

False legends and true biographies of our saints are strung together without discrimination. This we would not complain of so much, if, as she would seem to imply, they are both illustrated by art; but the instances in which these apocryphal and unworthy stories have been chosen by the painter or sculptor as fitting subjects are exceedingly rare, and where they are, as in the case of Durer's painting of "St. John Chrysostom's Penance," which is reproduced by the authoress (shall we say with her in the preface, "to interest and instruct her children"?), they bear evidence of an art degraded in inspiration and debased in morals.

SARSFIELD; OR, THE LAST GREAT STRUGGLE FOR IRELAND. By D. P. Conyngham. Boston: Patrick Donahoe.

This short historical novel has been written for two purposes--to disprove the correctness of the saying, attributed to Voltaire, that the Irish always fought badly at home, and to illustrate, in a popular manner, the struggle between James II. and his son-in-law, the Prince of Orange. With due respect to the author, we submit that too much importance has already been attached to Voltaire's _ipse dixit_ with regard to the fighting qualities of the Irish. It is of little importance, indeed, what that gifted infidel has said about anything or anybody, as it is pretty well understood in our day that among his numerous failings veracity was not very conspicuous. Mr. Conyngham has, however, succeeded very creditably in accomplishing his main object, and presents us with a succinct and truthful view of the rival forces which, for three years, contested for the English crown on the soil of Ireland. There is very little plot in the story, the principal interest centring in the acts of Sarsfield and other well-known historical personages; but the narrative of the war is well sustained, and the author's conception of the inner life of his principal characters is in the main correct and natural.

ARTHUR BROWN. By Rev. Elijah Kellogg. Boston: Lee & Shepard.

This is one of that class of books for boys full of hair-breadth escapes and improbable incidents. It is the first of _The Pleasant Cove Series_, which means five more just like this. The fact that the characters have been introduced in a former "series," and are to be carried forward through the coming five volumes, renders the story a little obscure at times. This, however, will not prevent boys who enjoy tales of perilous sea voyages and marvellous encounters from finding this volume interesting and amusing.

PRAYERS AND CEREMONIES OF THE MASS; or, Moral, Doctrinal, and Liturgical Explanations of the Prayers and Ceremonies of the Mass. By Very Rev. John T. Sullivan, V.G. Diocese of Wheeling, W. Va. New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 12mo. 1870.

The subject and nature of this little book are sufficiently expressed in its title. The position of the Very Reverend author, and approbations by the Archbishop of New York and the Right Reverend Bishop of Wheeling, testify to its sound doctrine and usefulness as a book of instruction.

LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. Boston: Fields, Osgood & Co.

_Pussy Willow_ is a charming girl and a charming woman, but we think that it is not often that nature accomplishes so much even with the aid of country air and simple, healthful habits and pleasures. However, we must not forget the fairy's gift, of always looking at the bright side of things. Pity we had not more of us this gift! But the girls must read for themselves.

FOLIA ECCLESIASTICA, ad notandum Missas persolvendas et persolutas, pro clero ordinata et disposita. Neo-Eboraci et Cincinnatii: sumptibus et typis Friderici Pustet.

This little memorandum book will be found quite useful for the purpose designed. Besides the pages appropriated to the record of Masses, there are also "Indices Neo-Communicantium, Confirmandorum, Confraternitatum," etc., etc.

SYNCHRONOLOGY OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS IN SACRED AND PROFANE HISTORY, FROM THE CREATION OF MAN TO THE PRESENT TIME. Third edition. Revised. Boston: Lee & Shepard. New York: Lee, Shepard & Dillingham. 1 vol. 8vo.

Before its republication, this work should have been placed in the hands of a competent editor. As it is now, it is very objectionable, and loses all its value. Here is one quotation, taken at random. Under the year 1362, we read: "Pope Urban V. at Avignon; beautifies the city of Rome; presents the _right arm_ of Thomas Aquinas to Charles V. of France as an _object of worship_."

POEMS. By Bret Harte. Boston: Fields, Osgood & Co. 1871.

We have read this unpretending little volume with much interest. The author is a true poet, and has the merit of originality quite as much as of descriptive power. His more serious poems display a high appreciation of the beautiful and the romantic, and there is a Catholic tone about them. Those in dialect, with the other humorous pieces, are equally pleasing in their way. The former, particularly, reflect a side of life which is generally supposed the least poetical of all. Mr. Bret Harte has "gathered honey from the weed."

CORRIGENDUM.--In the article "Which is the School of Religious Fraudulence," in our last number, p. 791, col. 2, near the middle, the sentence beginning, "It is no mark of falsity, therefore, in any document," should be thus concluded: "that it occurs there, unless it occurs there alone and nowhere else."

BOOKS RECEIVED.

From JNO. MURPHY & CO., Baltimore: A Circular Letter on the Temporal Power of the Popes; addressed to the clergy and laity of the Vicariate Apostolic of North Carolina. By the Right Rev. James Gibbons, D.D.

From the YOUNG CRUSADER Office, Boston: Protests of the Pope and People against the Usurpation of the Sovereignty of Rome by the Piedmontese Government.

From P. J. KENEDY. New York: The Life of St. Mary of Egypt. To which is added the Life of St. Cecilia and the Life of St. Bridget.

From PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, Philadelphia: The Acts of the Early Martyrs. By J. H. M. Fastré, S.J.

From LEYPOLDT & HOLT, New York: Across America and Asia. By Raphael Pumpelly. Fifth edition. Revised.--Art in the Netherlands. By H. Taine. Translated by J. Durand.

From PATRICK DONAHOE, Boston: The "Our Father." Being illustrations of the several petitions of the Lord's Prayer. Translated from the German of the Rev. Dr. J. Emanuel Veith, by the Rev. Edward Cox, D.D.

From ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston: Ad Clerum: Advice to a Young Preacher. By Joseph Parker, D.D.

THE CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. XIII., No. 74.--MAY, 1871.[21]

THE CHURCH ACCREDITS HERSELF[22]

Archbishop Manning's pastoral letter to his clergy on the first council, _The Vatican and its Definitions_, to which are appended the two constitutions the council adopted--the one the _Constitutio de Fide Catholica_, and the other the _Constitutio Dogmatica Prima de Ecclesia_--the case of Honorius, and the Letter of the German bishops on the council, though containing little that is new to our readers, is a volume which is highly valuable in itself, and most convenient to every Catholic who would know the real character of the council and what is the purport of its definitions. Few members of the council were more assiduous in their attendance on its sessions or took a more active part in its deliberations than the illustrious Archbishop of Westminster, and no one can give a more trustworthy account of its dispositions or of its acts. We are glad, therefore, that the volume has been republished in this country, and hope it will be widely read both by Catholics and non-Catholics.

The character of the book and of the documents it contains renders any attempt by us either to review it or to explain it alike unnecessary and impertinent. The pastoral is addressed officially by the Archbishop to his clergy; the constitutions or definitions adopted by the Holy Synod declare, by the assistance of the Holy Ghost, what is, and always has been, and always will be the Catholic faith on the matters defined; and we need not say that we cordially accept it as the word of God, and as the faith which all must accept _ex animo_, and without which it is impossible to please God. What the council has defined is the law of God, and binds us as if spoken to us directly by God himself in a voice from heaven. He speaks to us by his church, his organ, and her voice is in fact his voice, and what we take on her authority we take on his authority, for he assists her, vouches for her, and commands us to believe and obey her.

There are, indeed, enemies of the faith who pretend that Catholics believe solely on the authority of the church as an organic body; but this is a misapprehension. We believe what is revealed on the veracity of God alone, because it is his word, and it is impossible for his word to be false; and we believe that it is his word on the authority or testimony of the church, with whom the word is deposited, and who is its divinely commissioned keeper, guardian, witness, and interpreter. The word of God is and must be true, and there is and can be no higher ground of faith or even of knowledge than the fact that God says it. Nothing can be more consonant to reason than to believe God on his word. Certainly, it is answered, if we have his word; but how do I know that what is proposed to me as his word is his word? We take the fact that it is his word on the authority of the Catholic Church; we believe it is his word because she declares it to be his word. It is permitted no one to doubt the word of God is conceded; but whence from that fact does it follow that I am not permitted to doubt the word of the church? Or why should I believe her testimony or her declaration rather than that of any one else?

To this question the general answer is, that she has been divinely instituted, and is protected and assisted to bear true witness to the revelation which it has pleased God to make, to proclaim it, declare its sense, and condemn whatever impugns or tends to obscure it. Supposing she has been instituted and commissioned by our Lord himself, for this very purpose, her authority is sufficient for believing whatever she teaches and declares or defines to be the word of God is his word or the truth he has revealed; for the divine commission is the divine word pledged for her veracity and infallibility. This is plain enough and indubitable; but how am I to know or to be assured that she has been so instituted or commissioned, and is so assisted?

There are several answers to this question; but we would remark, before proceeding to give any answer, that the church is in possession, has from the moment of the descent of the Holy Ghost upon the apostles on the day of Pentecost claimed to be in possession of the authority in question, and has had her claim acknowledged by the whole body of the faithful, and denied by none except those who deny or impugn authority itself. Being in possession, it is for those who question her right to show that she is wrongfully in possession. They are, to use a legal term, the plaintiffs in action, and must make out their case. Every one is presumed in law to be innocent till proven guilty. The church must be presumed to be rightfully in possession till the contrary is shown. They who question her possession must, then, adduce at least _prima facie_ evidence for ousting her before she can be called upon to produce her title-deeds. This has never been done, and never can be done; for, if it could be done, some of our able and learned Protestant divines would, in the course of the last three hundred years and over, have done it. There is, then, in reality no need, in order to justify the faith of Catholics, to prove by extrinsic testimony the divine institution and commission of the church to teach all men and nations all things whatsoever God has revealed and commanded to be believed.

But we have no disposition to avail ourselves just now of what some may regard as a mere legal technicality. We answer the question by saying the church is herself the witness in the case, and accredits herself, or her existence itself proves her divine institution, commission, and assistance or guidance.

The church was founded by our Lord on the prophets and apostles, being himself the chief corner-stone. This is asserted here as a simple historical fact. Historically, the church has existed, without any break or defect of continuity, from the apostles down to our times. Its unbroken existence from that time to this cannot be questioned. It has been a fact during all that period in the world's history, and too momentous a fact to escape observation. Indeed, it has been the one great fact of history for over eighteen hundred years; the central fact around which all the facts of history have revolved, and without which they would be inexplicable and meaningless. This assumed or granted, it must be conceded that she unites as one continuous fact, in one body, the apostles and the believers of to-day. She is a continuous fact; a present fact during all the period of time that has elapsed between the apostles and us, and therefore is alike present to them and to us. Her existence being unbroken, she has never fallen into the past; never been a past fact; but has always been and is a present fact; and therefore as present with the apostles to-day as she was on the day of Pentecost, when they received the Holy Ghost; and therefore presents us not simply what they taught, but what they teach her now and here. She bridges over the abyss of time between our Lord himself and us, and makes us and the apostles, so to speak, contemporaries; so that, as it is our Lord himself we hear in the apostles, so it is the apostles themselves that we hear in her.

This continuity or unity of the church in time is a simple historical fact, and as certain as any other historical fact, and even more so, for it is a fact that has never fallen into the past, and to be established only by trustworthy witnesses or documents. By it the church to-day is and must be as apostolic and as authoritative as in the days of the apostles Peter, James, and John. Individuals die, but the church dies not; individuals are changed, as are the particles of our bodies, but the church changes not. As in the human race individuals pass off, but the race remains always the same; so in the church individuals pass away, but the church remains unchanged in all its integrity; for the individuals die not all at once, and the new individuals born in their places are born into the one identical body, that does not die, but remains ever the same. No matter, then, how many generations succeed one another in their birth and death, the body of the church is subject to no law of succession, and remains not only one and the same church, but always the one and the same present church. The church of to-day is identically the church of yesterday, the church of yesterday is identically the church of the day before, and thus step by step back to the apostles; on the other hand, the church in the time of the apostles is identically the church of their successors down through all succeeding generations of individuals to us. There has never been an interval of time when it was not, or when it lost its identity as one and the same body. The church is precisely as apostolic now as it was in the beginning, or as were the apostles themselves.

Now, if we suppose our Lord communicated the whole revelation to the apostles either by his personal teaching or by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, then he communicated it to her, and she is an eye and ear witness to the fact of revelation in the same sense that the apostles were, and her historical identity with the apostles makes her a perpetual and contemporary witness to the fact of revelation and to what is revealed. What misleads not a few on this point is that they regard the church as a mere aggregation of individuals, born and dying with them, or succeeding to herself with the succession of each new generation of individuals. But this is no more the case with the church than with the human race itself, or with any particular nation that has an historical existence through several generations. In all historical bodies the generations overlap one another, and no generation of individuals is either aggregated to the body or segregated from it all at once. The body does not die with the receding nor is it born anew with the acceding generation. The church, indeed, is an organism, not a mere aggregation of individuals, but even if it were the conclusion would not follow; for though the individuals are successively aggregated or affiliated, they are aggregated or affiliated to her as a persistent body, and though they pass off successively, they leave the body standing, one and identical. This is the simple historical fact. The church, as an ever-present body, remains one and the same identical body amid all the successive changes of individuals, and is just as much the depositary of the revelation and an eye-witness of the facts recorded in the Gospels, as were the apostles themselves.

We say, then, the church is herself the witness, and a competent and credible witness, to her own divine commission to teach and declare the word of God which he has revealed, and no better, no more competent or credible witness is needed or, in fact, conceivable. She is competent because she is the identical apostolical body, the contemporary and the eye-witness through the successive ages of the facts to which she testifies. She is a credible witness, because even as a human body it would be hardly possible for her either to mistake or to misrepresent the facts to which she testifies, since they are always present before her eyes, since, however her individual members may change, she herself knows no change with lapse of time, and no succession. She could not forget the faith, change it, or corrupt it, because there is at all times in her communion an innumerable body of living witnesses to its unity, purity, and integrity, who would detect the change or alteration and expose it. It is not with her as it would be with a book having a limited circulation. Copies of the book could easily be altered or interpolated without detection; but the living testimony of the church, spread over the whole world and teaching all nations, cannot be interpolated or corrupted. It is on the fidelity of the church, her vigilant guardianship, and uniform testimony that we depend for our confidence in the genuineness and authenticity of our copies of the sacred writings, and it is worthy of note that in proportion as men throw off the authority of the church, and reject her traditions, they lose that confidence, and fail to agree among themselves what books, if any, are inspired; so that without the testimony of the church the Holy Scriptures themselves cease to be an authority in matters of faith.

In human tribunals the supreme court is presumed to know the law which constitutes it, and it defines its own jurisdiction and powers. It declares the law of which it is the depositary and guardian, and though the judges have only their human wisdom, learning, and sagacity, it is remarkable how few mistakes through a long series of ages they commit as to what is or is not the law they are appointed to administer, and nearly all the mistakes they do commit are due to the changes the legislature makes in the law or in the constitution of the court. Why should the church be less competent to judge of the law under which she is constituted, and to define her jurisdiction and powers? And since her constitution, as well as the law she administers, changes not, why should she be less exempt, even as a human court, from mistakes in interpreting and declaring the law, than the supreme court of England or the United States? What higher authority can there be to judge of her own constitution and the law given her to administer than the church herself?

The church received her constitution in the commission given to the apostolic body with whom she is one and identical, and the law or revealed word in the reception of it by the apostles. Being one and identical body with them, she has received what they received, and knows what they knew, is taught what they were taught, understands it in the same sense that they did, and has the same authority to interpret and declare it that they had. If they were commissioned to teach all nations to observe all things whatsoever our Lord commanded them, she is commissioned in their commission to do the same. If he promised them his efficacious presence and assistance to the consummation of the world, he made the promise to her; if he made Peter the prince of the apostles, the father and teacher of all Christians, and gave him plenary authority to feed, rule, and govern the universal church, he made the successor of Peter the visible head of the church, and gave him the same authority. The church, being the apostolic body persisting through all times, knows what the apostles received, knows therefore both her own constitution and the law deposited with her, and is as competent to judge of them as the apostles were, and has full authority to interpret and declare both, and it is to her, as to the supreme court of a nation, to judge what they are, and to define her constitution, jurisdiction, and powers.

The objection which many make to this conclusion arises from their confounding the authority of the church to interpret and define the law--and, as a part of the law, her own constitution, jurisdiction, and powers or functions--with the authority to make the law: a mistake like that of confounding the supreme court of the United States with Congress. The church, like the court or the supreme executive, may make her own rules and orders--what are called the orders and rules of court, for the purpose of carrying out the intent of the law--but she no more makes the law than does the civil court make the law under which it is constituted, and which it administers. God alone is the lawgiver or lawmaker, and his revealed word is the law--the law for the human reason and will, and which binds all men in thought, word, and deed. We want no church, as the supreme judge of the law, to tell us this, for it is a dictamen of reason itself. It is the revealed word of God, which again is only his will, the will of the supreme Lawgiver--that is the law under which the church is constituted, and which she guards, interprets, and declares, whenever a question of law arises. She does not make the law; she keeps, interprets, declares, and defends or vindicates it. Even with only human wisdom, she can no more make the law, or declare that to be law which is not, than the supreme civil court can declare that to be civil law which is not civil law. The objection, therefore, is not well taken.

The law, it is agreed on all hands--that is, the revelation, whether written or unwritten--was deposited with the apostles, then it was deposited, as we have seen, with the church identical with the apostolic body. Now, she knows, as the apostles knew, what she received, the law committed to her charge, and, as she is constituted by the law she has received, she knows, and cannot but know, her own constitution and powers, also what promises, if any, she has received from her divine Lawgiver and Founder. The promises of God cannot fail; and if he has promised her his assistance as an immunity from error she knows it, and knows that her judgments of law, or in matters of faith, are through that assistance infallible. Of all these questions she is the divinely constituted judge. She is the judge of the law constituting her, of her own appointment and commission, and of her rights, powers, and jurisdiction, no less than of the law or revelation committed to her charge, for all this is included in the law. If she defines that in her commission is included the promise of the divine assistance to protect her from error in interpreting and declaring the law--that is, the faith, the revealed word of God--then of all this she judges infallibly, and she is the infallible authority, not for believing what God has revealed--for that is believed on the veracity of God alone--but for believing that what she teaches as his revealed word is his revealed word, and therefore the law we are to obey in thought, word, deed, as the supreme court is the authority for defining its own constitution and powers, and what is or is not the law of the state. Say we not, then, truly that the church is her own witness and accredits herself? Say we not truly, also, that she is the faithful and infallible witness to the fact of revelation, and teacher and judge of what God has or has not revealed? The fact, then, that the church defines that she is the divinely appointed guardian and infallible teacher and judge of revelation, is all we need to know in order to know that it is God we believe in believing her.

None of the sects can apply this argument to themselves; for no one of them can pretend to be the identical apostolical body, or to span the distance of time from the apostles to us, so as to be at once their contemporary and ours. They all have either originated too late or have died too soon for that. Not one of them can pretend to have originated in the apostolic communion, and to have existed as one continuous body down to us. There were sectaries in the lifetime of the apostles, but they were not in the apostolic communion, but separated from it; and there is, as far as we know, no sect in existence that originated in apostolic times. Some of the Gnostic sects sprang up at a very early day, but they have all disappeared, though many of their errors are revived in our day. The Nestorian and Jacobite sects still subsist in the East, but they were born too late to be of apostolic origin, and our modern Unitarians are not the old Arians continued in one unbroken body. The Lutheran and Calvinistic sects are of yesterday, and they and their numerous offshoots are out of the question. The poor Anglicans talk of apostolic succession indeed, but they separated or were cut off from the apostolic body in the sixteenth century, and, with all the pretensions of a few of them, are only a Protestant sect, born of the Reformation, as the greater part of them strenuously contend. There is something in people's instincts; and it is worthy of note that no people who have cast off the authority of the Holy See have ever ventured to assume as their official name the title of APOSTOLIC. Even the schismatic Greeks, while they claim to be orthodox, do not officially call their church apostolic; and the American Anglicans assume only the name of Protestant Episcopal. _Protestant apostolic_ would strike the whole world as incongruous, and very much as a contradiction in terms.

Let the argument be worth little or much, the only body claiming to be the church of Christ that has or has had an uninterrupted historical existence from the apostles to us, is the body that is in communion with the See of Rome, and recognizes the successor of Peter in that see as the Vicar of Christ, the teacher of the nations, supreme pastor of the faithful, with plenary authority from our Lord himself to feed, rule, and govern the universal church. The fact is too plain on the very face of history for any one who knows history at all to deny it. Nor, in fact, does any one deny it. All in reality concede it; and the pretence is that to be in communion with that see is not necessary in order to be in communion with Christ, or with the universal church.

But this is a question of law or of its interpretation, and can itself be determined only by the supreme court instituted to keep, interpret, and declare the law. The court of last resort has already decided the question. It is _res adjudicata_, and no longer an open question. The court has decided that _extra ecclesiam, nulla salus_, or, that out of communion with the church there is no communion with Christ; and that out of communion with the Holy See there is no communion with the universal church, for there is no such church. Do you appeal from the decision of the court? To what tribunal? To a higher tribunal? But there is no higher tribunal than the court of last resort. None of the sects are higher than the church, or competent to set aside or overrule her decisions. Do you appeal to the Bible? But this were only appealing from the law as expounded by the church or the supreme court to the law as expounded by yourself or your sect. Such an appeal cannot be entertained, for it is an appeal, not from an inferior court to a superior, but from the highest court to the lowest. The law expounded by the individual or the sect is below, not above, the law expounded and declared by the church. The sect has confessedly no authority, and the law expounded and applied by the sect is no more than the law expounded and applied by the private individual; and no private individual is allowed to expound and apply the law for himself, but must take it as expounded and applied by the court, and the judgment as to what the law is of the court of last resort is final, and from it, as every lawyer knows, there lies no appeal. To be able to set aside or overrule the judgment of the church, it is necessary, then, to have a court of superior jurisdiction, competent to revise her judgments and to confirm or to overrule them. But, unhappily for those who are dissatisfied with her judgments, there is and can be no such court to which they can appeal.

There might be some plausibility in the pretended appeal from the church to the Bible, if the church had not the Bible, or if she avowedly rejected its divine authority; but as the case stands, such an appeal is irregular, illegal, and absurd. The church has and always has had the Bible ever since it was written. It was, as we have seen, originally deposited with her, and it is only from her that those outside of her communion have obtained it or their knowledge of it. She has always held and taught it to be the divinely inspired and authoritative written word of God, which none of her children are allowed to deny or question. There is no opposition possible between her teaching and the Bible, for the Bible is included in her teaching, and consequently no appeal from her teaching to the Bible. It would be only an appeal from herself to herself. The only appeal conceivable in the case is from her understanding of the sacred Scriptures or the revealed word of God to--your own; but as you at best have confessedly no authority to expound, interpret, or declare the law, your understanding of the written word can in no case override or set aside hers.

The Reformers, when they pretended to appeal from the church to the Bible, mistook the question and proceeded on a false assumption. There never was any question between the church and the Bible; the only question there was or could be was between her understanding of the Bible and theirs, or, as we have said, between the Bible as expounded by the church and the Bible as expounded by private individuals. This the Reformers did not or would not see, and this their followers do not or will not see to this day. Now, count the authority of the church for as little as possible, her understanding cannot be below that of private individuals, and the understanding of private individuals can never override it, or be a sufficient reason for setting it aside. The Reformers had recognized the church as the supreme authority in matters of faith, and the question was not on admitting her authority as something hitherto unrecognized, but on rejecting an authority they had hitherto acknowledged as divine. They could not legally reject it except on a higher authority, or by the judgment of a superior court. But there was no superior court, no higher authority, and they could oppose to her not the authority of the Bible, as they pretended, but at best only their private opinion or views of what it teaches, which in no case could count for more than her judgment, and therefore could not overrule it or authorize its rejection.

It is all very well to deny the divine commission and authority of the church to expound the word and declare the law of God; but a denial, to serve any purpose, or to be worth anything, must have a reason, and a higher reason than has the affirmation denied. One can deny only by an authority sufficient to warrant an affirmation. It needs as much reason to deny as to affirm. The authority of the church can really be denied only by opposing to her a truth that disproves it. A simple negation is nothing, and proves or disproves nothing. Yet the Reformers opposed to the church only a simple negation. They opposed to her no authority, no affirmative truth, and consequently gave no reason for denying or unchurching her. Indeed, no individual or sect ever opposes either to the church or to her teaching anything but simple negation, and no one ever makes an affirmation or affirms any truth or positive doctrine which she does not herself affirm or hold and teach. Every known heresy, from that of the Docetæ down to the latest development of Protestantism, simply denies what the church teaches, and affirms nothing which she does not herself affirm, as Catholics have shown over and over again. These denials, based as they are on no principle or affirmative truth, are gratuitous, and count for nothing against the church or her teaching. Who would count the denial by a madman that the sun shines in a clear sky at noonday?

The simple fact is that whoever denies the church or her judgments does it without any authority or reason but his own private opinion or caprice, and that is simply no authority or reason at all. It is not possible to allege any authority against her or her teaching. Men may cavil at the truth, may by their sophistries and subtleties obscure the truth or involve themselves in a dense mental fog, so that they are unable to see anything distinctly, or to tell where they are or in what direction they are moving. They may thus imagine that they have some reason for their denials, and even persuade others that such is the fact; but whenever the fog is cleared away, and they have _easted_ themselves, they cannot, if they have ordinary intelligence, fail to discover that the truth which in their own minds they opposed to her or her teaching is a truth which she herself holds and teaches as an integral part of her doctrine, or as included in the depositum of faith she has received. Do you say there is truth outside of the church; truth in all religions; in all superstitions, even? Be it so; but there is no truth outside of her in any religion or superstition that she denies or does not recognize and hold, and hold in its unity and catholicity. There may be facts in natural history, in physics, chemistry, in all the special sciences, as in the several handicrafts, that she does not teach; but there is no principle of science of any sort that she does not hold and apply whenever an occasion for its application occurs. None of the special sciences have their principles in themselves, or do or can demonstrate the principles on which they depend, and from which they derive their scientific character. They all depend for their scientific character on a higher science, the science of sciences, which the church and the church alone teaches. The principles of ethics, and therefore of politics as a branch of ethics, all lie in the theological order, and without theology there is and can be no science of ethics or politics; and hence we see that both, with those who reject theology, are purely empirical, without any scientific basis. An atheist may be moral in his conduct, but if there were no God there could be no morality; so may an atheist be a geometrician, but if there were no God there could be no geometry. Deny God, and what becomes of lines that may be infinitely projected, or of space shading off into immensity, on which so much in the science of geometry depends? Nay, deny God, and what would become even of finite space? Yet without the conception of space, which is in truth only the power of God to externize his acts, geometry would be impossible. All the special sciences are secondary, and are really science only when carried up to their first principles and explained by them. What more absurd, then, than the attempt of scientists to prove by science there is no God, or to oppose science to the theology of the church, without which no science is possible?

We need but look at the present state of men's minds to see how the world gets on without the church. Never were men more active or indefatigable in their researches: they send their piercing glances into all subjects, sacred and profane; they investigate the heavens and the earth, the present and the past, and leave no nook or corner of nature unexplored, and yet there is not a principle of ethics, politics, or science that is not denied or called in question. In the moral and political world nothing is fixed or settled, and moral and intellectual science, as well as statesmanship, disappears. Doubt and uncertainty hang over all questions, and the distinctions between right and wrong, just and unjust, as well as between good and evil, are obscured and well-nigh obliterated. The utmost confusion reigns in the whole world of thought, and "men," as a distinguished prelate said to us the other day, "are trying the experiment of governing the world without conscience." All this proves what we maintain, that they who deny the church, or reject her teaching, have no truth to oppose to her, no reason for their denial, and no principle on which they base their rejection of her authority. Their rejection of the church and her teaching is purely gratuitous, and therefore, if not sinful, is at least baseless.

This much is certain, that it is either the church or nothing. There is no other alternative. Nothing is more absurd than for those who reject the church and her teaching to pretend to be Christian teachers or believers. They cannot believe the revelation God has made on the veracity of God alone, for they have no witness, not even an unassisted human witness, of the fact of revelation, of what God has revealed, or that he has or has not revealed anything, since they have no witness who was the contemporary of our Lord and his apostles--they were none of them born then--and they have no institution that dates from apostolic times, and that has continued without break down to the present. In fact, what they profess to believe, in so far as they believe it at all, they believe on the authority of the church, or of that very tradition which they reject and deny to be authority. They agree among themselves in their doctrinal belief only when and where they agree with the church; whenever and wherever they break from Catholic tradition, preserved and handed down by her, they disagree and fight with one another, are all at sea, and have neither chart nor compass. Do they tell us that they agree in the essentials of the Christian faith? Yet it is only so far as they follow Catholic tradition that they know or can agree among themselves as to what are or are not essentials. There is a wide difference between what Dr. Pusey holds to be essential and what is held to be essential by Dr. Bellows. Nearly the only point in which the two agree is in rejecting the infallible authority of the successor of Peter; and, in rejecting that authority, neither has any authority for believing what he believes, or for denying what he denies. Deny the church, and you have no authority for asserting divine revelation at all, as your rationalists and radicals conclusively prove.

But, happily, the other alternative saves us from all these logical inconsistencies. The church meets every demand, removes every embarrassment, and affords us the precise authority we need for faith, for she is in every age and every land a living witness to the fact of revelation, and an ever-present judge competent to declare what God reveals, and to teach us what we have, and what we have not, the veracity of God for believing. She can assure us of the divine inspiration and authority of the Holy Scriptures, which without her tradition is not provable; for she has received them through the apostles from our Lord himself. She can enable us to read them aright, and can unfold to us by her teaching their real sense; for the Holy Ghost has deposited with her the whole revelation of God, whether written or unwritten. Outside of her, men, if they have the book called the Bible, can make little or nothing of it, can come to no agreement as to its sense, except so far as they inconsistently and surreptitiously avail themselves of her interpretation of it. They have no key to its sense. But she has the key to its meaning in her possession and knowledge of all that God reveals, or in the divine instruction she has received in the beginning. The whole word of God, and the word of God as a whole, is included in the depositum she has received, and therefore she is able at all times and in all places to give the true sense of the whole, and of the relation to the whole of each and every part. In her tradition the Bible is a book of divine instruction, of living truth, of inestimable value, and entitled to the profoundest reverence, which we know it is not in the hands of those who wrest it from her tradition, and have no clue to its meaning but grammar and lexicon.

The notion that a man who knows nothing of the Christian faith, and is a stranger to the whole order of Christian thought and life, can take up the Bible, even when correctly translated into his mother-tongue, and from reading and studying it arrive at an adequate knowledge, or any real knowledge at all, of Christian truth or the revelation which God has made to man, is preposterous, and contradicted by every day's experience. Just in proportion as men depart from the tradition of faith preserved by the church, the Bible becomes an unintelligible book, ceases to be of any use to the mind, and, if reverenced at all, becomes, except in a few plain moral precepts, a source of error much more frequently than of truth. One of the most precious gifts of God to man becomes instead of a benefit a real injury to the individual and to society. Our school-boards may, then, easily understand why we Catholics object to the reading of the Bible in schools where the church cannot be present to enlighten the pupil's mind as to its real and true sense. It is the court that keeps the statute-books, and interprets and applies the law, whether the _lex scripta_ or the _lex non scripta_.

The church, existing in all ages and in all nations as one identical body, is a living witness in all times and places, as we have said, of the fact that God has revealed what she believes and teaches, and is through his assistance a competent and sufficient authority for that fact, and to interpret and declare the revealed law, as much so, to say the least, as the supreme court of a nation is to declare what is the law of the state. The objection made by rationalists and others to believing on the authority of the church, or to recognizing her authority to declare the faith, is founded on the false assumption that the church makes the faith, and can make anything of faith she pleases, whether God has revealed it or not. We have already answered this objection. The church bears witness to the fact of revelation, and declares what is or is not the faith God has revealed, as the supreme court declares what is or is not the law of the state; but she can declare nothing to be of faith that is not of faith, or that God has not revealed and commanded all men to believe, for through the divine assistance she is infallible, and therefore cannot err in matters of faith, or in any matters pertaining in any respect to faith and morals. Since she cannot err in declaring what God has revealed and commanded, we are assured that what she declares to be revealed is revealed, or to be commanded is commanded, and therefore we know that whatever we are required to believe as of faith, or to do as commanded of God, we have the authority of God himself for believing and doing, the highest possible reason for faith, since God is truth itself, and can neither deceive nor be deceived; and the highest possible law, for God is the Supreme Lawgiver. It is they who reject the church or deny her authority that have only an arbitrary and capricious human authority, and who abdicate their reason and their freedom, and make themselves slaves, and slaves of human passion, arrogance, and ignorance. The Catholic is the only man who has true mental freedom, or a reason for his faith. His faith makes him free. It is the truth that liberates; and therefore our Lord says, "If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." Who can be freer than he who is held to believe and obey only God? They whom the truth does not make free may fancy they are free, but they are not; they are in bondage, and abject slaves.

The church in affirming herself is not making herself the judge in her own cause, is not one of the litigants, as some pretend, for the cause in which she judges is not hers, but that of God himself. She is the court instituted by the Supreme Lawgiver to keep, interpret, and declare his law, and therefore to judge between him and the subjects his law binds. She, in determining a case of faith or morals, no more judges in her own cause than the supreme court of a nation does in defining its own jurisdiction, and in determining a case arising under the law of which it is constituted by the national authority the judge. She has, of course, the right, as has every civil court, to punish contempt, whether of her orders or her jurisdiction, for he who contemns her contemns him who has instituted her; but the questions to be decided are questions of law, which she does not make, and is therefore no more a party to the cause litigated, and no more interested or less impartial, than is a civil court in a civil action. Indeed, we see not, if it pleases Almighty God to make a revelation, and to set up his kingdom on earth with that revelation for its law, how he can provide for its due administration without such a body as the church affirms herself to be, nor how it would be possible to institute a higher or more satisfactory method of determining what the law of his kingdom is, than by the decision of a court instituted and assisted by him for that very purpose. In our judgment, no better way is practicable, and no other way of attaining the end desired is possible. We repeat, therefore, that the church meets every demand of the case, and removes every real difficulty in ascertaining what is the faith God has revealed, as well as what is opposed to it, or tends to obscure or impair it.

It is agreed on all hands, by all who hold that our heavenly Father has made us a revelation and instituted a church, that the Church of Rome, founded by Saints Peter and Paul, was in the beginning catholic and apostolic. If she was so in the beginning, she is so now; for she has not changed, and claims no authority which she has not claimed and exercised, as the occasion arose, from the first. She is the same identical body as she has been from the beginning. All the sectarian and schismatical bodies that oppose or refuse to submit to her authority acknowledged her authority prior to rejecting it, and were in communion with her. The change is not hers, but theirs. They have changed and gone out from her, because they were not of her, but she has remained ever the same. Take the schismatic Greeks. They originally were one body with her, and held the successor of Peter in the Roman See as primate or head of the whole visible church. They got angry or were perverted, and rejected the authority of the Roman Pontiff, and have never even to this day ventured to call themselves officially the Catholic or the Apostolic church. The men who founded the Reformed Churches so-called--Anglican among the rest--were brought up in the communion of the Catholic Church, and acknowledged the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff, and the Church of Rome as the mother and mistress of all the churches. The separation was caused by their change, not by hers. She held and taught at the time of the separation what she had always held and taught, and claimed no authority which she had not claimed from the first. Evidently, then, it was they and not she that changed and denied what they had previously believed. She lost individuals and nations from her communion, but she lost not her identity, or any portion of her rights and authority, as the one and only church of Christ, for she holds from God, not from the faithful. She has continued to be what she was at first, while they have gone from one change to another, have fallen into a confusion of tongues, as their prototypes did at Babel; and Luther and Calvin could hardly recognize their followers in those who go by their name to-day.

In the very existence of the church through so many changes in the world around her, the rise and fall of states and empires, assailed as she has been on every hand, and by all sorts of enemies, is a standing miracle, and a sufficient proof of her divinity. She was assailed by the Jews, who crucified her Lord and stirred up, wherever they went, the hostility of the people against his holy apostles and missionaries; she was assailed by the relentless persecution of the Roman Empire, the strongest organization the world has ever seen, and the greatest political power of which history gives any hint--an empire which wielded the whole power of organized paganism; she was driven to the catacombs, and obliged to offer up the holy sacrifice under the earth, for there was no place for her altars on its surface. Yet she survived the empire; emerged from the catacombs and planted the cross on the Capitol of the pagan world. She had then to encounter a hardly less formidable enemy in the Arian heresy, sustained by the civil power; then came her struggle with the barbarian invaders and conquerors from the fifth to the tenth century--the revolt of the East, or the Greek schism; the great schism of the West; the Northern revolt, or the so-called Reformation of the sixteenth century; and the hostility since of the greatest and most powerful states of the modern world; yet she stands erect where she did nearly twenty centuries ago, maintaining herself against all opposition; against the power, wealth, learning, and refinement of this world; against Jew, pagan, barbarian, heretic, and schismatic, and preserving her identity and her faith unchanged through all the vicissitudes of the world in the midst of which she is placed. She never could have done it if she had been sustained only by human virtue, human wisdom, and human sagacity; she could not have survived unchanged if she had not been under the divine protection, and upheld by the arm of Almighty God. The fact that she has lived on and preserved her identity, especially if we add to the opposition from without the scandals that have occurred within, is conclusive proof that under her human form she lives a divine and supernatural life; therefore that she is the church of God, and is what she affirms herself to be.

Believing the church to be what she affirms herself to be; believing the Roman Pontiff to be the successor of Peter, the Vicar of Christ on earth, the father and teacher of all Christians, we have no fear that she will not survive the persecution which now rages against her, and that the Pope will not see his enemies prostrate at his feet. Through all history, we have seen that the successes of her enemies have been short-lived, and the terrible losses they have occasioned have been theirs, not hers. It will always be so. Kings, emperors, potentates, states, and empires may destroy themselves by opposing her, but her they cannot harm. See we not how the wrongs done to the Holy Father by Italian robbers, obeying the dictates of the secret societies, some of which, like the _Madre Natura_, date almost from apostolic times, are quickening the faith and fervor of Catholics throughout the world? Not for centuries has the Holy Father been so strong in the love and devotion of his faithful children as to-day. Never is the church stronger or nearer a victory than when abandoned by all the powers of this world, and thrown back on the support of her divine Spouse alone.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by REV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

[22] _The Vatican Council and its Definitions._ A Pastoral Letter to the Clergy. By Henry Edward, Archbishop of Westminster. New York: D. & J. Sadlier. 1871. 12mo, pp. 252.

BORDEAUX.

One of the first objects that strikes the mariner ascending the Garonne towards Bordeaux is the ancient tower of St. Michel. I visited it the very morning after my arrival in that city. It is the belfry of a church of the same name, but is separated from it, being about forty yards distant. It was built in 1472, and is two hundred and fifty feet high. Formerly, it was over three hundred feet in height, but the steeple was blown down by a hurricane on the 8th of September, 1768. The view from the top is superb. Before you, like a map, lies the whole city--a noted commercial centre from the time of the Cæsars--encircling a great bend of the river. The eye is at first confused by the mass of roofs, spires, and streets, but in a moment singles out the great cruciform churches of St. André, Ste. Croix, and St. Michel. They lie beneath like immense crosses with arms stretched out--a perpetual appeal to heaven. Such remembrances of Calvary must ever stand between a sinful world and the justice of Almighty God. How can he look down upon all the iniquity of a great city, and not feel the silent _Parce nobis_ of these sacred arms extended over it, repeating silently, as it were, the divine prayer, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" Oh! what a love for the Passion dwelt in the heart of the middle ages which built these churches. Absorbed in the thought, I lost sight of the city. Its activity, its historical associations, the fine buildings and extensive view, all disappear before the cross. Bordeaux is generally thought of only as a wine-mart, but it also has holier associations. "Every foot-path on this planet may lead to the door of a hero," it is said, and very few paths there are in this Old World that do not bring us upon the traces of the saints--the most heroic of men, who have triumphed over themselves, which is better than the taking of a strong city. They it was that made these great signs of the cross on the breast of this fair city, hallowing it for ever.

Beneath the tower of St. Michel is a _caveau_, around which are ranged ninety mummies in a state of preservation said to be owing to the nature of the soil. Why is it that every one is enticed down to witness so horrid a spectacle? Dust to dust and ashes to ashes is far preferable to these withered bodies, and a quiet resting-place, deep, deep in the bosom of mother earth till the resurrection. Edmond About says the twelfth century would have embroidered many a charming legend to throw around these bodies, but the moderns have less imagination, and the guardian of the tower, who displays them by the light of his poor candle, is totally deficient in poesy. Had this writer been at Bordeaux on the eve of All Souls' day, he would have been invited at the midnight hour, "when spirits have power," to listen to the lugubrious cries and chants that come up from the _caveau_, where, as the popular voice declares, these ninety forms are having their yearly dance--the dance of death! I wonder if the mummy next the door, as you gladly pass out into the upper air, has his hand still extended like an _au revoir_.... Yes, there is one place where we shall meet, but not in this repulsive form. May we all be found there with glorified bodies!

The church of St. Michel is older than the tower, having been built in the twelfth century. It is of the Gothic style, and one of those antique churches that speak so loudly to the heart of the traveller from the New World--one in which we are penetrated with

"An inward stillness, That perfect silence when the lips and heart Are still, and we no longer entertain Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions, But God alone speaks in us, and we wait In singleness of heart that we may know His will, and in the silence of our spirits That he may do his will, and do that only."

The ancients had a deep meaning when they represented the veiled Isis with her finger on her hushed lips. The soul profoundly impressed by the Divine Presence is speechless.

In one of the side chapels is the tomb of an old bishop of the middle ages, in a niche of the wall. On it he lies carven in stone, with the mitre on his head, and clad in his pontifical vestments, and his hands folded in prayer.

"Still praying in thy sleep With lifted hands and face supine, Meet attitude of calm and reverence deep, Keeping thy marble watch in hallowed shrine."

The cathedral of St. André is another of these venerable monuments of the past. Founded in the fourth century, destroyed by the barbarians, restored by Charlemagne, and again ruined by the Normans, it was rebuilt in the eleventh century, and consecrated by Pope Urban II., in 1096. I went there at an early hour to offer up my thanksgiving for the happy end of this stage of my journey. The canons were just chanting the hours, which reverberated among the light arches with fine effect. Masses were being offered in various chapels, and there were worshippers everywhere. I was particularly struck with the devout appearance of a venerable old man in one of the dimmest and most remote chapels, enveloped in a hooded cloak, with the capuche drawn over his head. He looked as if his soul, as well as his body, was almost done with time.

Through all these aisles and oratories, which whispering lips filled with the perfume of prayer streaming through the old windows came the morning sun,

"Whose beams, thus hallowed by the scenes they pass, Tell round the floor each parable of glass."

I can still see the purple light filling the chapel of the Sacred Heart and ensanguining the uplifted Host.

"A sweet religious sadness, like a dove, Broods o'er this place. The clustered pillars high Are roséd o'er by the morning sky: And from the heaven-hued windows far above, Intense as adoration, warm as love, A purple glory deep is seen to lie. Turn, poet, Christian, now the serious eye, Where, in white vests, a meek and holy band, Chanting God's praise in solemn order, stand. O hear that music swell far up and die! Old temple, thy vast centuries seem but years, Where wise and holy men lie glorified! Our hearts are full, our souls are occupied, And piety has birth in quiet tears!"

And all the worshippers in this church were turned toward the holy East, whence cometh the Son of Man. The glory of the Lord came into the house by the way of the gate whose prospect is toward the East. I like this orientation of churches now too much neglected. The old symbolic usages of the church should be perpetuated. This turning to the East in prayer was at one age the mark of a true believer, distinguishing him from those who had separated from the church. True, some of the old basilicas at Rome and elsewhere have their altars at the west, but, according to the ritual of such churches, the priest turns toward the people, thus looking to the East. Cassiodorus and others say that our Lord on the cross had his face toward the west. So, in directing our thoughts and hearts to Calvary, it is almost instinctive to look to the East.

"With hands outstretched, bleeding and bare, He doth in death his innocent head recline, Turning to the west. Descending from his height, The sun beheld, and veiled him from the sight. Thither, while from the serpent's wound we pine, To thee, remembering that baptismal sign, We turn and drink anew thy healing might."

Let us, then, place, as Wordsworth says,

"Like men of elder days, Our Christian altar faithful to the east, Whence the tall window drinks the morning rays."

While I was lingering with peculiar interest before a monument to the memory of Cardinal de Cheverus, the first Bishop of Boston, and afterward Archbishop of Bordeaux, whose memory is revered in the Old World and the New, I heard a chanting afar off, and, looking around, saw through the open door a funeral procession coming hastily along the street toward the church, and singing the _Miserere_--coming, not with mournful step and slow, as with us, but like the followers of Islam, who believe the soul is in torment between death and burial, and so lay aside their usual dignified deportment and hurry the body to the grave. But in France the funeral _cortége_ does not necessarily include the relatives, and I felt this very haste might be typical of their eagerness to commence the Office of the Dead. Anyhow, I forgave them when, in the chapel draped in black, I saw them devoutly betake themselves to prayer during the Holy Sacrifice. I, too, dropped my little bead of prayer for the eternal rest of one whose name I know not, but which is known to God.

"Help, Lord, the souls which thou hast made, The souls to thee so dear; In prison for the debt unpaid, Of sins committed here."

The confessionals seemed to be greatly frequented the day I was at St. André's--those sepulchres into which rolls the great burden of our sins. There

"The great Absolver with relief Stands by the door, and bears the key, O'er penitence on bended knee."

What non-Catholic has not felt, at least once in his life, as if he would give worlds for the moral courage to lay down the burden of memory at the feet of some holy man endowed with the power of absolving from sin! Almighty God has made his church the interpreter between himself and his creatures; hence the peculiar grace a holy confessor has to meet the wants of the human heart laid bare before him. Zoroaster told his disciples that the wings of the soul, lost by sin, might be regained by bedewing them with the waters of life found in the garden of God. It is only the consecrated priest who has the power of unsealing this fountain to each one of us. These confessionals are distributed in the various chapels, everywhere meeting the eye of the parched and sin-worn traveller who would

"Kneel down, and take the word divine, ABSOLVO TE."

Of course there is a Ladye Chapel in this church, as in all others. Jesus and Mary, whose names are ever mingled on Catholic lips, the first they learn and the last they murmur, are never separated in our churches. Devotion to the Virgin has grown up through the church, beautifying and perfuming it like the famous rose-bush in the Cathedral of Hildesheim in Germany--the oldest of all known rose-bushes. It takes root under the choir in the crypt. Its age is unknown, but a document proves that nearly a thousand years ago Bishop Hezilo had it protected by a stone roof still to be seen. So with devotion to our Mystical Rose--_quasi plantatio rosæ in Jericho_--its roots go down deep among the foundations of the church; saints have protected and nourished it, and all nations come to sit under its vine and inhale its perfume.

"Blossom for ever, blossoming rod! Thou didst not blossom once to die: That life which, issuing forth from God, Thy life enkindled, runs not dry.

"Without a root in sin-stained earth, 'Twas thine to bud salvation's flower, No single soul the church brings forth But blooms from thee, and is thy dower."

What a safeguard to man is devotion to Mary Most Pure! It is like the Pridwin--the shield of King Arthur--on which was emblazoned the Holy Virgin, warding off the strokes of the great enemy of souls.

There are some poetical associations connected with Bordeaux: among others, the memory of the troubadours who enriched and perfected the Romance tongue, but whose songs at last died away in the sad discord of the Albigensian wars. Here the gay and beautiful Eleanor of Aquitaine held her court of love, gathering around her all the famous troubadours of her time, and deciding upon the merits of their songs. Among these was her favorite, Bernard de Ventadour, chiefly known to fame by being mentioned by Petrarch. Eleanor herself was a musician and a lover of poetry--tastes she inherited from her grandfather, William, Duke of Aquitaine, generally called the Count de Poitiers, one of the earliest of the troubadours whose songs have come down to us. Around this charming queen of love and song gathered the admiring votaries of _la gaia sciencia_, like nightingales singing around the rose, all vowing, as in duty bound, that their hearts were bleeding on the horns!

Poor maligned Eleanor was too gay a butterfly for the gloomy court of Louis VII. She wanted the bright sun of her own province in which to float, and the incense of admiring voices to waft her along. She herself was a composer of _chansons_, and is reckoned among the authors of France. She dearly loved Bordeaux, her capital, and was adored by its people. Here she was married with great pomp to Louis, after which the Duke of Aquitaine laid aside his insignia of power, and, assuming the garb of a hermit, went on a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella, and devoted the remainder of his life to prayer and penance in hermitage on Montserrat, by way of preparation for death. It is well to pause awhile before plunging into the great ocean of eternity.

These pilgrimages to Compostella were exceedingly popular in that age, and hospices for the pilgrims to that shrine were to be found in all the large cities and towns. There was one at Auch, and another at Paris in the Rue du Temple, which was particularly celebrated and served by Augustinian nuns. And here at Bordeaux was the Hospice of St. André for the reception of the weary votary of St. Jago.

"Here comes a pilgrim," says one of Shakespeare's characters. "God save you, pilgrim. Where are you bound?"

"To St. Jacques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I beseech you?"

"Eftsoones unto an holy hospitall That was forby the way, she did him bring, In which seven bead-men that had vowed all Their life to service of high heaven's King, Did spend their daies in doing godly thing; Their gates to all were open evermore, That by the wearie way were travelling, And one sate wayting ever them before To call in comers-by, that needy were and pore."

Digby says the hospitality and charity of these hospices had their origin in the bishops' houses. Fortunatus thus speaks of Leontius II., Archbishop of Bordeaux, who, in accordance with the apostle's injunction, was given to hospitality:

"Susceptor peregrum distribuendo cibum. Longius extremo si quis properasset ab orbe, Advena mox vidit, hunc ait esse patrem."

That the devotion of the middle ages is yet alive in the church is proved by the influx of pilgrims at the shrine of St. Germaine of Pibrac, at Notre Dame de Lourdes, and a thousand other places of popular devotion. So great is the number of pilgrims to Lourdes, drawn by the brightness of Mary's radiant form, that the railway between Tarbes and Pau was turned from its intended direct line in order to pass through Lourdes. In one day the train from Bayonne brought nine hundred, and at another time over a thousand pilgrims. And as for the continued charity and hospitality of the church, witness the monks of St. Bernard and of Palestine, known to all the world. How disinterested is genuine Catholic charity, done unto the Lord and not unto man! Some suppose the good works practised among us is by way of barter for heaven, but they little know the spirit of the church. Charity is one expression of its piety, which, in its highest manifestations, is devoid of self-interest. Listen to John of Bordeaux, a holy Franciscan friar, who, after quoting a saying of Epictetus, that we generally find piety where there is utility, says: "He does not come up to the standard of pure Christianity: he pretends that piety takes its birth in utility, so that it is interest that gives rise to devotion. Yes, among the profane, but not among Christians, who, acquainted with the maxims of our holy religion, have no other end but to serve God for his love and for his glory; forgetting all considerations of their own advantage, they aspire to attain to that devotion which is agreeable to him without any view to their own interest."

And in these practical times another holy writer, Dr. Newman, says in the same spirit: "They who seek religion for culture's sake, are æsthetic, not religious, and will never gain that grace which religion adds to culture, because they can never have the religion. To seek religion for the present elevation, or even the social improvement it brings, is really to fall from faith which rests in God, and the knowledge of him as the ultimate good, and has no by-ends to serve."

But to return to the romantic associations of this land of the vine, we recall the celebrated old romance of Huon of Bordeaux, which contains some delightful pictures of the age of chivalry. Here is one which I have abridged, showing how the religious spirit was inwoven with the impulses of the knightly heart. The Emperor Thierry, furious because his nephews and followers had been slain by Huon, seized upon Esclarmonde (Huon's wife) and her attendants, and threw them into a dungeon, there to await death. Huon, greatly afflicted at this, disguised himself as a pilgrim from the Holy Land, and set out for Mayence, where the emperor lived. He arrived on Maunday-Thursday, and learned that it was the custom of the emperor to grant the petitions of him who first presented himself after the office of Good Friday morning. Huon was so overjoyed at this information that he could not sleep all that night, but betook himself to his orisons, imploring God to inspire and aid him so he might again behold his wife. When morning came, he took his pilgrim staff and repaired to the chapel. As soon as the office was ended, he contrived to be the first to attract attention. He told the emperor he was there to avail himself of the custom of the day in order to obtain a grace. The emperor replied that, should he even demand fourteen of his finest cities, they would be given him, for he would rather have one of his fists cut off than recede from his oath; therefore to make known his petition, which would not be refused. Then Huon requested pardon for himself and for all of his who might have committed some offence. The emperor replied: "Pilgrim, doubt not that what I have just promised, I will fulfil, but I beg you right humbly to tell me what manner of man you are, and to what country and race you belong, that you request such grace from me." Huon then made himself known. The emperor's face blanched while listening to him, and for a long time he was unable to speak. At last he said: "Are you, then, Huon of Bordeaux, from whom I have received such ills--the slayer of my nephews and followers? I cannot cease wondering at your boldness in presenting yourself before me. I would rather have lost four of my best cities, have had my whole dominions laid waste and burned, and I and my people banished for three years, than find you thus before me. But since you have thus taken me by surprise, know in truth that what I have promised and vowed I will hold good, and, in honor of the Passion of Jesus Christ, and the blessed day which now is, on which he was crucified and dead, I pardon you all hatred and evil-doing, and God forbid that I should hold your wife, or lands, or men, which I will restore to your hands." Then Huon threw himself on his knees, beseeching the emperor to forgive the injury he had done him. "God pardon you," said the emperor. "As for me, I forgive you with right good will," and taking Huon by the hand, he gave him the kiss of peace. Huon then said: "May it please our Lord Jesus Christ that this guerdon be returned to you twofold." Then the prisoners were released, and, after a sumptuous entertainment, the emperor accompanied Huon and his noble lady on their way back to Bordeaux.

Bordeaux is interesting to the English race, because, among other reasons, it was for about three hundred years a dependency of the English crown, being the dowry of Eleanor of Aquitaine, who married Henry II. after her divorce from Louis le Jeune. We associate the city, too, with Froissart and the Black Prince, who held his court here. Richard II. was born hard by at the Château de Lormont. And Henry III. came here to receive his son's bride, Eleanor of Castile, and gave her so extravagant a marriage feast as to excite the remonstrances of his nobles. The country prospered under the English government. The merchants had especial privileges granted them by Eleanor, and their wines then, as now, found a ready market in London. Bordeaux in particular increased wonderfully, and outgrew its defensive walls. The church of St. Michel dates from the time of English domination, and in that quarter of the city may be seen old houses, one story projecting beyond the other, and the whole surmounted by a pyramidal roof, said to be of English origin, and such as are to be seen in some of the oldest streets of London.

Eleanor always used her influence for the benefit of her people. The most ancient charter of privileges granted the Gascon merchants was given by her on the first of July, 1189.

The English seem to have taken their war-cry from the old dukes of Aquitaine who charged to the sound of "St. George for the puissant duke." A devotion to St. George was brought from the East by the Crusaders. Richard I. placed himself and his army under the special protection of this saint, who, the redoubted slayer of the dragon and the redresser of woman's wrongs, appealed to the tenderest instincts of the chivalric heart. St. George's remains were brought from Asia by the Crusaders, and a large part is enshrined at Toulouse, in the great basilica of St. Sernin. The crest of the dukes of Aquitaine was a leopard, which the kings of England bore for a long time on their shields. Edward III. is called a valiant pard in his epitaph.

These old dukes of Aquitaine seem always to have gone to extremes either as sinners or saints. Eleanor's grandfather, as I have said, was one of the earliest of the troubadours. He was distinguished for his bravery, his musical voice, and his manly beauty. His early life was such as to incur the censure of the bishop, but he ended his career in penitence, and the last of his poems is a farewell _á la chevalerie qu'il a tant aimée_ for the sake of the cross. He was one of the first to join the crusades at the head of sixty thousand warriors, but he lost his troops and gained neither glory nor renown.

The term Aquitaine was given this country by Julius Cæsar on account of its numerous rivers and ports. The ancient province of this name extended from the Loire to the Pyrenees. In the time of the Roman dominion, Bordeaux was its capital under the name of Burdigala. The origin of the city is uncertain. Strabo, who lived in the first century, mentions it as a celebrated emporium. Some suppose its first inhabitants to have been of Iberian origin. The real history of the city commences about the middle of the third century, when Tetricus, governor of Aquitaine, assumed the purple and was proclaimed emperor. About the same time St. Martial preached in this region. But the pagan divinities were still invoked in the time of Ausonius. In the annals of the Council of Arles, in 314, Orientalis, Bishop of Bordeaux, is mentioned.

The intellectual superiority of the Romans was always even more potent than the force of their arms. Barbarism disappeared before the splendor of their civilization. Burdigala under their dominion felt the influence of this superiority, and rose to such a degree of magnificence and luxury as to be a theme for Ausonius, St. Jerome, and Sidonius Apollinaris. The remains of buildings at Bordeaux belonging to this epoch give an idea of its prosperity and importance. There is still an arena in ruins, commonly called the Palais-Gallien, but the most remarkable Roman monument of the city was a temple called _Piliers de Tutelle_, which, partly ruined, was demolished in 1677, by the order of Louis XIV., for the construction of a quay. Schools were established at Bordeaux at an early day. We learn from St. Jerome that in his time the liberal arts were in the most flourishing condition here. In the time of the Roman dominion, there were universities at Bordeaux, Auch, Toulouse, Marseilles, Trèves, etc. The edicts issued for their benefit showed the importance attached to their prosperity by the government. The college of Bordeaux furnished professors for Rome and Constantinople. Valentinian I. chose Ausonius, a native of Bordeaux, to superintend the education of his son Gratian. When the latter became emperor, he made his old tutor a Roman consul (A.D. 379). The poems of Ausonius are still admired, but there is much in them that is reprehensible. They were translated into French by M. Jaubert, a priest at Bordeaux, who lived in the last century.

That the wines of Aquitaine were already celebrated in the fourth century is shown by the writings of Ausonius

"Ostrea Non laudata minus, nostri quam gloria vini."

St. Paulinus, bishop of Nola, lived at this time. He was born at Bordeaux in the year 353, and was descended from a long line of illustrious senators. One of the several estates he owned near the city still bears the name of _Le Puy Paulin_, puy being a word from the _langue Romaine_, perhaps synonymous with the Latin word podium. One of the public squares of Bordeaux also bears the same name. Paulinus possessed great elevation of mind and a poetical genius, which he cultivated under Ausonius, for whose care he expresses his gratitude in verse. But Ausonius was magnanimous enough to acknowledge that Paulinus excelled him as a poet and that no modern Roman could vie with him.

In his early life Paulinus held dignified offices under government, but his intercourse with St. Delphinus, bishop of Bordeaux, inspired him with a love for retirement, in which his wife, a Spanish lady of wealth, participated. They passed over into Spain, and spent four years there in the retirement of the country, but not as anchorites. He seemed to have given up all of life but its sweetness when he composed the following prayer: "O Supreme Master of all things, grant my wishes, if they are righteous. Let none of my days be sad, and no anxiety trouble the repose of my nights. Let the good things of another never tempt me, and may my own suffice to those who ask my aid. Let joy dwell in my house. Let the slave born on my hearth enjoy the abundance of my stores. May I live surrounded by faithful servants, a cherished wife, and the children she will bring me."

While in Spain they lost their only son, whom they buried at Alcala, near the bodies of the holy martyrs Justus and Pastor. This loss weaned them completely from the world. Their Spanish solitude had been a garden of roses, but now they chose the lily as their emblem, and resolved to lead a monastic life. Paulinus received holy orders, and they both sold all they possessed and gave the money to the poor. This drew upon Paulinus the contempt of the world. Even his own relatives and former slaves rose up against him, but to all their invectives he only replied: "O beata injuria displicere cum Christo." "O blessed scorn that is shared with Christ." Ausonius, in particular, was grieved to see the extensive patrimony of Paulinus cut up among a hundred possessors, and reproached him in bitter terms for his madness. But if the world rejected him, he was received with open arms by such men as St. Ambrose, St. Jerome, and St. Augustine. His devotion to St. Felix, whose tomb he had visited in his childhood, induced him to fix his residence near Nola in Campania. Here he lived close by the church where his favorite saint was enshrined. He had put on the livery of Christ's poor ones, and contented himself with his cell and garden-plot. And his meekness and sanctity, joined to his talents as a writer, drew upon him the admiration of the world. Persons of the highest rank from all parts went to see him in his retreat, as St. Jerome and St. Augustine testify. In his seclusion he writes poems that have all the delicacy and grace of Petrarch. He describes the church of his loved saint, whose life and miracles he is never weary of dwelling on, as hung with white draperies and gleaming with aromatic lamps and tapers; the porch is wreathed with fresh flowers, and the cloisters strewn with blossoms; and pilgrims come down from the mountains, marching even at night by the light of their torches, bringing their children in sacks, and their sick on litters, to be healed at the tomb; for all the world, a picture of an Italian shrine of these days.

He loved the humblest duties of the sanctuary. "Suffer me to remain at thy gates," he says. "Let me cleanse thy courts every morning, and watch every night for their protection. Suffer me to end my days amid the employments I love. We take refuge within your hallowed pale and make our nest in your bosom. It is herein that we are cherished, and expand into a better life. Casting off the earthly burden, we feel something divine springing up within us, and the unfolding of the wings which are to make us equal to the angels." These words sound as if coming from the cloistered votary of the middle ages, or even of the nineteenth century; the same is the spirit of the church in all ages.

The writings of St. Paulinus show his devotion to the saints and their relics, a belief in the efficacy of prayers for the dead, and in the doctrine of the Real Presence. What can be more explicit, for instance, than these lines on the Holy Eucharist?

"In cruce fixa caro est, quâ pascor; de cruce sanguis Ille fluit, vitam quo bibo, corda lavo."

He adorned the walls of his church with paintings and composed inscriptions for the altar, under which were deposited the relics of St. Andrew, St. Luke, St. Nazarius, and others, and sings thus:

"In regal shrines with purple marble graced, Their bones are 'neath illumined altars placed. This pious band's contained in one small chest That holds such mighty names within its tiny breast."

After fifteen years of retirement, St. Paulinus was made bishop of Nola. Shortly before he died, as the lamps were being lighted for the Vesper service, he murmured,

"I have trimmed my lamp for Christ."

The prosperity of Bordeaux under the Romans was interrupted by the invasion of the barbarians that swept down from the north, bringing ruin and desolation to the land. For nearly a century the city remained in the power of the Visigoths, who, being Arians, persecuted the Catholic inhabitants. Sidonius Apollinaris deplores the injury done to learning by their invasion, but perhaps the decline of learning was partly owing to a growing distaste for pagan literature among Christians. The barbarians were finally routed by Clovis in 507, and he took possession of Bordeaux. Charlemagne made Aquitaine a kingdom for his son Louis le Débonnaire. Louis, son of Charles le Chauve, was the last king of Aquitaine. When he ascended the throne of France, it resumed its former rank as a duchy.

The college of Guienne was founded here in the middle ages. In the sixteenth century, it had, at one time, twenty-five hundred pupils. The famous George Buchanan, whom everybody knows, because his head adorns the cover of _Blackwood's Magazine_, but who is more spoken of than read, taught in this college three years. He came here in 1539. Among his pupils was the great Montaigne, who passed most of his life at Bordeaux and is buried in the church of the Feuillants. As Buchanan was somewhat given to hilarity and loved the flavor of Gascon wines, this city probably had its attractions for him. In his _Maiæ Calendæ_, full of gaiety and merry-making, he speaks of the grapes of the sandy soil of Gascony:

"Nec tenebris claudat generosum cella Lyæum, Quem dat arenoso Vasconis uva solo."

One vintage season, Buchanan went to Agen to enjoy it at the residence of his friend, the celebrated Julius Scaliger, who had been a professor at the college of Guienne, but was now settled as a physician at Agen.

Among the other literary celebrities of Bordeaux is Arnaud Berquin, whose charming writings are still popular. His _Ami des Enfants_ was crowned by the French Academy in 1784. And Montesquieu was born at the château of La Brède near Bordeaux, whence he took his title of Baron de la Brède.

Bordeaux is now the finest city in France after Paris, and it ranks next to Lyons in importance. Perhaps I cannot do better than quote what a popular French author of the day says of it:

"Bordeaux is five miles long and has one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants: plenty of room for few people. But the entire population does not breathe at its ease. If the grass be growing in the streets and squares of the new town, there is some stifling felt in the old districts. The Jews, chapmen, brokers, and marine store men live in a dirty and unhealthy hive, and their shops form no straight line along the narrow and unpaved streets. You may still see a quantity of those paunchy, hunchbacked, and decrepit houses, which form the delight of romantic archæology, and you need only go to Bordeaux to form an accurate idea of old Paris. In the new town all is vast, rectilinear, and monumental: the streets, squares, avenues, esplanades and buildings rival the splendor of what we are taught to admire in Paris. The Grand Thèâtre, containing only twelve hundred persons, has the imposing aspect of a Colosseum and a staircase which might be transferred with advantage to our Opera. The cafés are truly monuments, and I saw a bathing establishment which bore a strong resemblance to a necropolis. All this grandeur dates from Louis XV. and Louis XVI. The population of Bordeaux is one of the prettiest specimens of the French nation. The women possess more expression than freshness, but with good hair, good eyes, and white teeth, a woman cannot but look well. The men have a sharp look, a lively mind, and brilliancy of language."

One of the glories of Bordeaux is the bridge across the Garonne built by order of Napoleon the Great. It has seventeen arches, and there is an interior gallery communicating from one arch to another which is accessible.

There are some fine pictures in the Musée des Tableaux--a Perugino, and others by Titian, Vandyke, Rubens, etc. Some excellent artists have been formed in the School of Design, among whom is Rosa Bonheur. But the people in general are more fond of music and the drama than the other fine arts.

The commerce of Bordeaux is extensive, but is surpassed by that of Havre, perhaps because there is too much of the _laisser-aller_ in a more southern temperament. Nevertheless, the city is progressing. The port, says the author already quoted, is a third edition of the Thames at London and the Golden Horn at Constantinople.

THE "AMEN" OF THE STONES.

FROM THE GERMAN.

Blind with old age, went Beda forth to preach The blessed Gospel to the world, and teach The listening crowd of village and of town. A peasant school-boy led him up and down, Proclaiming aye God's word with youthful fire.

Rather in childish folly than in scorn, The lad the trusting graybeard led, one morn, Down to a vale where massive stones around Were strewed. "A congregation fills the ground," He said, "and, lo, they wait to hear thee, sire."

Up rose the aged pilgrim, took the text, Turned it, explained it, and applied it next, Implored, exhorted, prayed, and, ending, bowed his head, And to the listening crowd the Pater Noster said.

When he had ended, from the circling stones The cry went forth, as if in human tones, "Amen, most reverend father!" and again The circling stones in concert cried, "Amen!"

The boy shrank back, remorseful, on his knees, Confessed his fault, and sought to make his peace. "Mock not God's word," the old man to him said. "Know that, though men were mute to it, and dead. The very stones will witness. 'Tis a living word, And cutteth sharply, like a two-edged sword. And if all human hearts to stones should turn, A human heart within these stones would burn."

THE HOUSE OF YORKE.